#hope your Monday is lovely 💖💖

[themissingmango]

[magistralucis]

@absolut--kurant!

Spangle-cheeked Tanager

javier.chaves.photography

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 26

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Monday's are for pain.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"More wine," Queen Jazlene demands. 

You stand at her shoulder, awaiting her every command. The familiarity of your duty feels safe though you cannot deny the peril all around. You move forward cautiously, sending a glance to king. 

King Geralt has not said or done much. He's hardly even touched his plate. For the first time that night, to your surprise as much as your relief, he looks at you. You pause, hand hovering before the ewer. 

"Another cup won't fare you well on the morrow," he girds. 

Jazlene huffs, "what else am I to do in this dull place but drink?" 

His lashes lower and he sits back. He props his elbow on the straight arm of the chair and gazes out at the boards full of bawdy voices and steps. He tilts his head as his pale sight skewers the chamber. 

"It is a banquet," he utters flatly. You remain close to Jazlene but retract your hand. 

"It is, husband, what do you propose?" She's breathy, almost hopeful. She peers out across the plucking of strings, "a dance?" 

"I know some steps," he extends his fingers, "suppose... there won't be much dancing on the road and Lord Vesemir did go to all this effort." 

"Truly? A dance?" She squals and grabs his forearm, "husband, is this not some cruel jape?" 

His jaw squares and he looks at her without humour, "only a suggestion. We are... married. The people should like to see king and queen together." 

You step back, as surprised as the daughter of Debray. The king himself hardly seems eager but he is ever aloof. You wonder if it is genuine. His refusal to look at you has you uncertain. Does he regret his missteps or are you once assuming too kindly of him? He has taught you those last few days to be skeptical. You are less than grateful for the lesson.  

"I would very much love to dance," Jazlene seizes his large hand and he winces, "thank you, thank you, thank you." She chants in excitement as she rises and the king steels himself as he does the same.  You're not so sure her glee is specific to her partner, but rather the act.

You can’t help but pity the queen. It’s clear she’s desperate for excitement. It would explain her flirtations and her tantrums and all her behaviour. Still, the isn’t the little girl flitting around her father’s castle anymore; she is the queen and her misdeeds will have consequences should she carry on. 

Your eyes drift out as a lull ripples over the chamber followed quickly by a tide of murmurs. The king and queen emerge from behind the royal table as curiosity thrums all around. The troupe continues to strum as Jazlene can hardly contain her elation despite the king’s stoic propriety. They begin the steps; hers jouncy, his flat and formal. She hardly notices her partner’s nonchalance. 

The other partners give breadth to the royal couple as others pause to watch. Whispers and cheers, some whistles encourage the king and queen. It is the first that any have seen the royal couple as one. 

You watch but hardly take in the scene. Your mind wanders to the chamber in the tower, then to the queen’s rooms; you hear only Geralt’s gritting frustration and the queen’s shrill defiance. They play their parts but you are not convinced. 

You peer around and your eyes catch on a shock of rusty orange. Gilles stands by the doors, amid as cluster of other guards. Where his fellow soldiers drink ale and grumble, he stares at the royal pair, bound by the sight of the queen on the king’s arm.  

You follow his gaze and meet King Geralt’s golden irises. His brow twitches and he quickly draws his attention back to his queen. You are confounded by him. You cannot figure if he truly has reconsidered his intent or he is merely hiding. He’s shown you before that he can feign whatever role suits his means; gallant king, pensive man, troubled soul. In the end, his only concern is his own will. 

Your chest rents deeper amidst your doom-laden thoughts. When did you grow so cynical? It’s these Hinterlands; their chill invades even the soul. Your lips tug down and you put your eyes to the stone wall. You need only see the night through. The road will keep all too busy for recklessness. 

As you stand there, you sense a shift, and turn to look over your shoulder. Lord Vesemir waves in your direction, bidding you to him with a pointed finger. You squint and peer back at the queen and king. You cannot disobey the host even if you are bound to a higher title. 

You sidle along behind the tables and stop behind the white-haired lord. He pushes his chair out, leaning into the straight wooden back. He looks up at you, cheeks ruddy with drink. 

“Little dove,” he grits, “how amusing, isn’t it, to see the king afoot on the boards.” 

“My lord,” you agree evenly. 

“I must say he never took so happily to the dance lessons as he did the sword,” Vesemir chuckles, “though he is graceful in both. My own feet do not listen to each other.” 

You bow your head, signaling your attention. You tilt your ear to him and stare at the table. 

“If any knew to watch for it, they would see he does prefer another partner,” the lord sighs, “alas, it would not be wise, as I’ve told him. A king cannot so quickly descend into folly. How many times did I say the same to his own father?” 

You lower your lashes.  

“I believe he has heeded my foreboding,” Vesemir reaches for his goblet and grunts as he finds it empty, tilting it to show his disappointment. You move forward to grab the jug of ale and pour him a new cup. He thanks you as he watches you. “And you. You had a restful night? You were provided the promised chamber? A bed?” 

“Yes, my lord, thank you,” you say, “it is rather much for a maid.” 

“We both know you are not any maid,” he pauses to gulp, “tell me, dove, do you find my halls too cold?” 

You set the jug down and step back on your heels. You fold your hands and consider his question as a riddle. You know not how to untangle the words of nobles so you will not try. 

“Cold, yes, but not intolerable, my lord,” you answer. 

“Hm, yes, but you may line your wool a bit thicker,” he reaches to pinch the cuff of your sleeve, “you would not shiver so much.” He rescinds his touch and looks into his cup, swirling the ale, “and your former castle, what was that like? Suppose the Duke of Debray is a rather busy lord, the way he scurries around like rat.” 

You hesitate. You cannot tell if he refers to Lord Dustan’s betrayal. 

“There’s always work for servants in a castle,” you say, “summer or winter. We were kept busy though not many ventured to Debray. It was always the lord that traveled.” 

“Mm, yes, you would not guess it but this vulture’s nest is rarely so lively as this. You’ve only seen it invaded by the king and his horde. When the winter is falling, it is so quiet. The snows drown out the noise below and the ice sparkles as diamonds...” he describes dreamily, “it is calm, peaceful. Not as life is at court. I prefer it. I was never one for that farce.” 

You look at him, listening intently. You think of the cave, of the moths, the desolation nestled within those icy walls. This place is beautiful despite its frosted bite. You might’ve seen clearer sooner were it not for the shroud cast on it by crowded halls. 

“It is safer here,” he continues, “and even as peace is declared, times will grow no less turbulent. Wars do not end so cleanly.” 

You furrow your brow and watch the lord, trying to unfold his words into their true meaning. He chuckles and empties his goblet once more. He sets it down and stands. 

“Perhaps this old man does ramble in his cups,” he shakes his head, “I thank you, dove, for your ear. Loyal as you are, gentle too. You could not know what spell you cast.” 

You retreat as Lord Vesemir angles his broad figure around his chair. He beckons as he turns and for a moment, you think he gestures at you. Instead, the maid, Ezme, appears from the shadows and meets him at the end of the table. He speaks to her as you back up against the wall. He walks with her from the hall as you stare after them. 

His words echo in your head.

What did he mean to say all he did? Another warning of what you already dread? A suggestion that you simply could never heed? Does he suggest escape even as he denotes your futility? Or does he simple speak for nothing more than his own voice? 

You look back to the king and queen. A new pitch picks up as the music swells with the stomping feet on the boards and the japes and jeers. Amid the revelry, the king remains as staunch as always, and once more, your eyes meet. 

Lord Vesemir is not mistaken. There is only turmoil ahead. 

⚔️

The night ends in a march along the corridors. You keep a distance from the king and queen as they walk ahead. Jazlene leans on her husband as she drunkenly babbles. Despite his discouragement, she kept to her wine. Ahead, Gilles walks with his hand on his sword. 

The guard opens the queen’s doors and the king escorts his wife through. You tarry in the archway as the ginger-headed man takes his post but cannot restrain from peeking within. Jazlene falls onto her mattress and sighs, giggling into a chattering shiver. 

“Oh, it is so cold,” she hugs herself, rubbing her arms. 

“You should not wear satin,” the king remands. 

“Rats to that!” She sneers and pushes herself up on her elbows, “I was plenty warm on the boards...” she looks at him coyly and grins, “with you, husband.” 

“And the wine in your belly does convince you of warmth,” he tuts. “I’ve known many men who drank themselves to death thinking it could cure the cold.” 

“Ugh, you are so dour,” she chides shrilly and sits up, reaching for him, “husband, we have a long road ahead. Will you not make use of our last night in the castle?” 

He huffs, “you are drunk and I must see Lord Vesemir about our travel-” 

“It is late. You might see to it in the morn,” she whines. 

He exhales again. He looks down at his boots and tilts his head to his side, but does not raises his eyes. He flicks his fingers in your direction, “close the door. I will see my wife abed.” 

Jazlene falls back and purrs. You can tell by the loll in her head that the wine will see her unconscious shortly. The king puts his hands to his hips and watches her as you back out and Gilles pulls shut the doors, not without undue force. 

“Go then, maid,” he snarls as he steps back against the wall. 

You obey. You are not certain whether to return to the chamber you shared with Ezme or to search out the servants’ quarters. You make no determination before you’re stopped the same slender shadow as the night previous. 

It is Ezme, as if she was summoned by the very thought of her. She is silent as she nods and turns to lead you onward. You follow without bidding. Your stomach churns as you already know she is not taking you to sleep. Something is amiss. 

You stop before a set of doors marked by iron vultures’ heads. She knocks and enters, letting you in after her. Within, Lord Vesemir sits before a fire, the glow flickering over him as he watches the flame. His shirt is untucked, his jacket disposed, and his hair hangs around his bullish face. 

“Dove, your wings cannot weather these winter winds,” he declares sonorously. 

You’re silent. Ezme closes the doors as you remain close to them. You peer around warily. She goes to the lord of the castle and he reaches to squeeze her hand. He brings it to his lips and kisses it. You blink as you stare at them. They are... 

“Please, sit down,” Vesemir insists, “I suppose we will be waiting some time for our king.” 

You don’t understand. Lord Vesemir and Ezme? A noble and a servant. Yet he warns King Geralt against the same with you. It is their manner, you suppose, to do what they would tell others not to. 

You don’t move. You crane to look at the doors then back to the maid and her master. It seems both Geralt and Vesemir agreed upon his attendance there that night but what place do you have there? You are not so brazen as to ask. 

You relent and come further into the chamber. You sit upon the wooden stool close to the wall as Ezme lights another lamp and sets it on the table. You wring your hands in your lap as you wait in silence. The lord lowers his head, patient as he closes his eyes. Or perhaps, fatigued as you are. 

Time sifts through the air like sand through a sieve. Slow and grinding. You stare at your skirts as the other maid drifts like a wraith and the lord sits as a statue. The longer you wait, the deeper the pit grows in your gut. You are owed no explanation but you long for one. 

Finally, there is a tap at the doors. Just the one. Hard but not violent. Ezme moves to open the door. You stand out of habit and a large shadow enters. It is the king. His golden eyes catch the lantern light as he sees the Lord sat before his hearth. 

“Vesemir, I have much to do before the sun.” 

“Aye, don’t I know,” the lord says calmly, “so you best listen and not waste time or breath.” 

The king angles his head, both curious and skeptical. You shift on your feet and the movement draws his attention. He winces as he sees you and his shoulders tense. He peers back at the lord in the light of the fire. He clears his throat. 

“Vesemir, what is your meaning here?” The king demands. 

[maxlarens]

⭐️ - Max - prompt: I will ease your mind (from bridge over troubled water) please thank you 🫶🏻 ily darling

You’re fine. It’s Friday. You’re fine.

You’ve got an afternoon and two whole days of being able to pretend your job doesn’t exist. To bury your work phone at the bottom of your handbag and only fish it out Monday morning. To get the tube home, go straight to bed and fall asleep without dinner—

fuck. Shit.

You’re meant to be getting dinner with Max.

That’s why you wore the cute (but still work appropriate) outfit today. The slightly nicer shoes. Your hair is even done. But you’re already on public transport going the opposite way to where dinner is supposed to be. You’re exhausted, you’re sinking into the seat like it’ll swallow you whole. Like if you try hard enough you could teleport straight to your bed.

You sigh, you fish your (non-work) phone out of your bag.

It only rings once before Max has already picked up.

“Schat,” he breathes, worried, like something might have happened to you, “What is it?”

You’re shaking your head, “Nothing. Nothing. Except I got on the tube home, instead of to dinner. It’s— hmm— it’s been a long day. To say the least.”

You hear a noise from him, a contemplative hum, the scrape of a chair, “Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“I—”, you frown glancing at a map of the stops, trying to puzzle through your memory, “Like halfway to my apartment… I dunno though, Maxie. I’m wiped. I won’t be any fun at dinner.”

You hear footsteps echoing, “You don’t have to be fun for me”, then, “Get off the train, schat. I’ll take you home.”

You hum, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’m already in my car.”

Max picks you up on the side of the road by the train station ten minutes later. You slide into the passenger seat of his car, lean over the dash and kiss him. He mumbles a sweet hello against your mouth, his hand hovering at your jaw, drifting into your hair. After the kiss is finished you press your forehead into his cheek and sigh. A prolonged tired thing.

“Work bad?”, he asks, hand gently cradling the back of your neck now.

“Awful,” you breathe, “So bad.”

“Mm,” he strokes the skin on your neck, “Let me take you home, liefje. We’ll order your favourite.”

“Please,” you murmur, “Can we watch Tangled too?”

Max snickers a little into your hair, “Whatever you want.”

You pull yourself from his grip, kissing his cheek before settling into the passenger seat. It’s not a long drive home, but as it goes on you feel the exhaustion sinking deep into your bones. The work day wearing on you even more now that it’s over. Max can see it on you, the way your thoughts are still fumbling through the issues of the day, the things you’ll have to deal with come Monday.

You’re distracted on the elevator ride to your floor, while you fish your keys from your bag, even as you flick the lights on by the door and set your bag on the kitchen counter. Max trails behind you, crowding you in the kitchen. He puts his arms around you, puts his nose into your shoulder. Kisses the junction of your neck.

“You should quit,” he says, quiet, low— you feel something skitter down into your gut as you lean back into him, “Move in with me and the cats. They love you.”

“Yeah,” you say, fishing for something else, “Do they?”

“Of course, schat,” his breath fans against your ear, “and so do I.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

ohhhhh to have someone tell u to quit your job so they can take care of u. anyway i hope this is kinda what u had in mind🥰 also tangled like is the ultimate comfort movie for me

send me a prompt/request + a driver and i’ll write a drabble. pls check my requests are open first💖

[poemcal]

helloo, I would like to make a request for Todd. where the reader is cheeky and flirts with him during breaks, but also leaves him small poems where she confesses her love. He feels the same way but she doesn't know it, and he confesses it to her one day when he hears her crying under a tree because she felt that he would never like her, and that she felt stupid trying to make him like her.

by the way, i love how you write and I fell in love the first time I saw Ethan Hawke in the movie😭😭💖

warning: none, too fluffy maybe!!

summary: how bad can it be having a crush on your classmate? Leaving poems in his desk, just as secretly as he is in love with you.

a/n: a long one, that's it, please clap for me A WHOLE THREE HOURS WRITING THIS 😭😭😭 hope you liked it!!! AND TY FOR YOU WORDS AND SAME I FELL FOR ETHAN IN THIS MOVIE TOO 😭😭🤍

✿ I LIKE YOU, YOU LIKE ME? : TODD ANDERSON

Every day you wait for Todd and his group of friends during breaks, since you didn’t share any classes with him. At first, you were friends with Pitts, and then you became close with all of them, except Todd. One day after classes, you saw him sitting alone. He always seemed like a bundle of nerves, but you liked that about him. You snuck up on him until you were right by his side.

“Writing for English?” Your voice made him jump in his seat, and he looked at you, startled.

“Y-yeah. I mean, no,” he stammered at first, closing his notebook and glancing around as if searching for help.

“I heard the classes are very... strange?”

Todd looked at you, almost offended, and shook his head. “It’s more than that. It’s like a lifestyle.”

“Wow. I’d like to be there, then,” you said with a smile, sitting beside him and glancing at how his hands were clinging to his pants, holding onto his comfort zone.

“You should. Why aren’t you? Aren’t we in the same year?” he asked with an honest curiosity that made you smile. It seemed like he was interested in you, in a way.

You nodded. “We are, but I got assigned a different teacher. Old-fashioned and boring, but he reads us beautiful poems,” you admitted, and for the first time, Todd smiled—just at you.

“You read poetry?”

“Of course! Although we read a bit of everything, it’s always Shakespeare.”

“Mr. Keating prefers Whitman, I guess.”

Since that conversation, you would find yourself approaching Todd during every break, taking the opportunity to give him small hints about your feelings toward him, which only grew stronger. The others could notice what you were doing, but Todd? Todd always seemed to be too caught up in his thoughts, never really in the moment, but still, you liked him more.

"Todd!" You shouted from across the campus and ran in his direction. Todd blushed at feeling so many eyes on him, but still, he stopped and waited for you. "Thanks for coming over," you said, laughing, and stopped by his side, letting your lungs take in a bit of air.

"‘I-I’m sorry!’ He would say, embarrassed to feel so clumsy just watching you run.

"It’s okay" you said with a smile, stepping closer. "On Monday, I’ll have a presentation" you started shyly, and Todd looked at you, confused. ‘I’ll have to recite a poem.’

"Do you want help?’" he asked, with a voice as delicate as always.

"No! I mean, I would loved that, but I already have one, I just... I don’t know, I thought maybe you could come watch me.’

Todd paused for a few seconds, then snapped back to reality and nodded. "Of course. I don’t think I have anything to do. J-just tell me the time, and I’ll be there." He never looked you in the eyes for long. For a few seconds, his eyes would meet yours, then he would find something less invasive to focus on. But you liked it.

"At four. Library. If you go, you should bring me some roses."

"I-i should?" Todd nervously looked around. "I'll have to grab some from here, then."

You laughed. "Bring some pretty ones."

"Aren't all flowers pretty?"

You nodded. "You're right. I should be more specific. Bring ones that won't make me sneeze all day."

"You're allergic? Then why would you ask me to bring flowers?"

You shrugged. "Because they're pretty. The gesture will be sweet, too," you said, winking at him, making Todd blush slightly.

After that conversation, you began leaving little notes with poems written for Todd under his desk every day without fail. You would hide behind the door, watching his reaction from the hallway. His pink cheeks, sparkling eyes, a shy smile he failed to hide, and his hands hurriedly stuffing the notes into his pockets made you completely happy. You wondered if he kept them for himself and hid them somewhere special.

Weeks went by, and your moment to recite in the library finally came.

When it was your turn to step up, you held the paper in your trembling hands, and your eyes instinctively searched for that blonde hair, but failed. Todd hadn’t shown up. You sighed in disappointment and recited your poem. The room filled with applause and cheers, and people praised you all the way back to your seat. As you walked back to your dorm, you saw him. Todd Anderson was sitting on the grass with the other poets laughing, and suddenly, it all made sense. He didn’t like you.

Todd looked at you, his eyes wide open, but you simply turned away and headed toward the solace of your dorm.

The next days, the notes on his desk stopped appearing, taking with them Todd’s excitement to arrive early to class just to read them. From then on, you also avoided Todd at all costs, not wanting to see his face, wishing to forget him. But he remained etched in your mind and heart, as important as a commandment and as necessary as the air in your lungs.

But you never cried, instead, you were angry at yourself for your foolish efforts to win his affection, which ultimately amounted to nothing. That changed one afternoon when you were sitting under a tree, far from Welton. The wind played with your hair, and the orange sunlight on your face heightened your emotions, and you ended up crying.

Footsteps startled you, and as you looked up, there he was. Todd. His face, worried and exhausted as always, but this time, his eyes held an unusual brightness.

He knelt in front of you, his face full of concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his hesitant hands hovering in the air, unsure whether to touch you.

You nodded. "Yeah, go away, Todd."

"No, you're not," he murmured, watching as you swallowed your tears and avoided his gaze.

"I am. It's nothing, okay?"

"Come on, you can tell me," he whispered, something inside him knowing it was his fault, yet still gathering the courage when he saw you crying under that old tree.

"Todd, just—"

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, interrupting you. "I didn’t mean to miss your presentation. It’s just that—"

"You don’t have to make excuses, Todd. Really. You could’ve just said no," you murmured, letting out a tired sigh.

"No! I wanted to go. It's just... I wanted to find flowers for you, but I couldn’t. I asked the guys for help. At three! But time passed, and we failed. I’m sorry," he stammered, his hands fidgeting in a silent war with each other.

"Todd. It was sweet of you to try. But it's okay, I forgive you. That’s not why I’m like this, so don’t feel bad," you said, your voice as strained as Todd’s, which wasn’t usual for you.

"Then what is it? Y-you can trust me, I promise," he said, sitting in front of you, moving a few inches closer.

"It's silly," you said, playing with the long grass beneath your feet. "I'm... scared?" you confessed.

"Scared?"

"Yes, you know. That feeling you get when you think about the future or the past or the dark or—"

"I know! I mean, scared of what? I’m scared of many things... too many," he murmured, looking at you expectantly

"Of love," you admitted, embarrassed. "Not love itself, but the absence of love, you know?" Todd nodded eagerly. "I mean, I don’t know if I’ll ever be loved or if I’ll have something with someone! And it's scary."

You felt so small next to Todd, filled with fear, shame, and shyness. Todd, on the other hand, felt with so much power, more power than what he liked. He knew he needed to encourage you, but the words wouldn’t leave his mouth, making the moment worse.

"Don’t say that. You will be loved, you already are."

"By my mom, maybe," you said with a chuckle.

"No, I mean, yes! But I mean romantically."

"Do you believe in that idea that the love of my life is destined and wandering out there?" you whispered as if sharing a secret.

Todd nodded. "Y-yes. They could be very close to you. Closer than you think. Right in front of you... trying so hard to be noticed. Failing. Always," he finished with a whisper, his hands ceasing their internal fight and gripping each other for comfort.

"Todd, what are you talking about?" you asked breathlessly.

"I like you! I like you..." For the first time in your life, you heard him speak so loudly and clearly that it startled you, leaving you unable to form any words. "You don’t have to say anything... Your eyes. They say more. Always," he murmured, looking into your eyes for so long that you feared feeling exposed.

But then you understood. You already were. Todd already knew you were the girl behind the poetry and that you felt as deeply for him as he did for you. His hands released their grip and gently touched your face, wiping away the silent tears streaming down your cheeks and caressing the flushed areas. Your crying stopped, and your heart raced. You felt his heavy breathing over you, and he felt yours. After a few seconds, Todd kissed you. It was short, rushed, and anxious. But it was the best kiss you’d ever had in your life.

"I like you too. A lot, Todd," you whispered without opening your eyes, afraid your eyes would say more than your lips.

"I knew it the second week the notes stopped," he said, and you opened your eyes. "That’s when I realized I wasn’t the only one in love."

"Todd..." He silenced you with another kiss, this one slow, delicate, and patient, filled with unwritten poetry between the lines. Much better than the first, leaving you wanting more.

After that, the two of you began dating. You showed your love through physical acts, like kissing, hugging, or holding hands all the time. Meanwhile, Todd preferred to be more reserved. He now left you notes and preferred to kiss you in secret, feeling the intimacy of his love. And then, everything made sense.

[magistralucis]

@absolut--kurant!

(source)

[elliesangell]

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ You and me together forever P.1⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Warnings: mention of self-harm,cuts,blood,fight wc: 2.7k notes: This is my first fanfic, and I’m still learning English, so I translated this text myself. I apologize for any possible mistakes, and I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

->->-> Part 2 (Final Part)

Description:

You are a shy, quiet, and aggressive student. Lately, you’ve been struggling with deep depression, and you're dealing with it in less-than-healthy ways. Every argument with other students almost always ends in a fight. But even someone like you has a weakness — Ellie💖

Waking up, you hear your alarm beeping. Reluctantly, you open your eyes and grab your phone. After turning off the alarm, you glance at the lock screen: 7:10 AM, Monday.

“Damn, I hate Mondays” — you mutter to yourself, not wanting to get out of bed. You place your phone on the dresser, and next to you on the bed is the book «She Drives Me Crazy». You put the book aside and get up

Grudgingly, you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth. The bright bathroom light blinds you, but squinting, you approach the mirror. Your face looks sleepy, and your hair is messy. Another morning, another routine, boring day. You walk over to the sink and turn on the cold water. The icy stream runs through your palms, sending shivers down your spine. Closing your eyes, you splash cold water onto your face several times, feeling the droplets run down your neck. After a quick, refreshing wash, you reach for a towel to dry your face.

But your gaze catches on your hands. Fresh cuts on your wrists remind you of recent events.

“Shit... I deserved it… I’ll make it worse next time” — you whisper, gritting your teeth and gently tracing the cuts that have already begun to heal.

Resigned to the feeling, you pick up your toothbrush and start brushing your teeth, thinking about the day ahead. After finishing your morning routine, you return to your room and pull on your usual black hoodie with long sleeves and a pair of jeans. Almost ready. At that moment, your phone vibrates with a message from Ellie.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. Dress warm, it’s cold outside. I’ll be there soon"

Reading her message, you can’t help but smile, feeling warmth spread across your face. Every word from her feels like it heats you up from the inside. In the hallway, you slip on your sneakers, but something makes you stop in front of the mirror. Your hair is a mess.

“Alright, I need to tidy up a little” you say, smoothing down your hair with your hands and tucking it behind your ears. Your eyes linger on the mirror for a moment, and, unable to resist, you dab a little of your favorite perfume on your neck.

“She won’t notice anyway” you exhale sadly, grabbing your black leather jacket and keys before heading out the door.

As soon as you step outside, the cold wind hits your face. Ellie was right, as always—it’s freezing. Lost in thought, you suddenly hear the familiar roar of a motorbike. And there she is, pulling up on her black motorbike. Ellie, in her light green jacket and grey jeans, takes off her helmet, her green eyes instantly locking onto yours. You feel your face flush.

Approaching her, your heart beats faster. You hug each other in greeting, and you’ve always loved feeling her close. In her arms, you feel safe. You could stay like this forever.

Without thinking, you breathe in the scent of her brown hair, and something in your stomach tightens sweetly, like butterflies fluttering inside you.

“Hey” you say softly into her ear.

“Hey there” Ellie replies cheerfully. You break the hug and take a step back, meeting her eyes.

“How’d you sleep?” she asks.

“Not bad, but I could’ve used more” you answer, yawning.

Ellie smiles that warm, reassuring smile.

“Stayed up late at your laptop again?”

“Yeah”

“Playing something?”

“No, just listening to music and reading stuff”

“What kind of stuff, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Just a book” you answer evasively, not wanting to discuss it further.

To avoid more questions, you quickly change the subject.

“What did you do last night?”

“I watched «Spider-Man No Way Home» I loved it. Have you seen it?”

“No, but if I have time, I’ll definitely check it out”

You feel your confidence fading as her green eyes sparkle in the morning light. Your cheeks flush, and you drop your gaze to the motorbike, gently touching it.

“What time did you go to bed?” you ask, looking back at her and noticing her warm, sincere smile. Your heart races, and a pleasant thrill fills your chest.

“Oh, I don’t remember… around midnight. You?”

“I think around 2 AM”

“Now I know why you didn’t sleep well. You need to go to bed earlier” she says in a caring tone, her voice soft with concern.

You smile wider, unable to help it, especially when you see Ellie blush and lower her gaze. She fidgets with her hands, not knowing where to put them, and your heart skips a beat again.

"Okay... I guess it's time to go" she says with a slight reluctance, trying to regain her seriousness, though she still sounds a little embarrassed.

"Yeah, I guess so" you sigh, but you try to hide your disappointment.

"Here you go" Ellie says, holding out the helmet. Her hand touches yours for a moment, and you freeze, savoring the brief contact.

You take the black and red helmet, feeling a twinge of sadness. You don’t want to go to university because time always seems to fly too quickly when you're with Ellie. As you put the helmet on, you glance at her a few times, and each time your eyes meet. Her gaze is warm, and you notice the tenderness in the way she looks at you.

"You look good" her voice is soft, but there's a note of genuine admiration in it.

You can’t hold back a smile. Your cheeks start to heat up, and you're glad the helmet is already hiding your embarrassment.

"Thanks... you look great too" you reply, your voice trembling slightly with excitement. Ellie smiles back, and the warmth in her smile feels like it’s spreading inside you.

"Thank you!" she responds cheerfully, and you realize you could stare at her smile for hours. But she’s already putting her helmet on.

"Come on, get on, or we'll be late" Ellie says, swinging her leg over the motorbike.

You sigh, feeling a little sad that the moment is ending, but you climb on behind her, wrapping your arms tightly around her waist. The gesture feels so natural to you. You've always loved how soft her skin feels, her slim waist fitting perfectly in your embrace. A familiar thrill builds inside you, and your heart beats faster.

But your thoughts are interrupted by her raspy voice:

"You ready?" she asks, turning her head slightly towards you.

"Just don't go too fast, okay? I'm still not used to it..." you reply, your voice tinged with slight anxiety, remembering how you didn’t feel great last time when Ellie picked up speed.

She laughs softly at your reaction and places her hand over yours on her waist, gently stroking your knuckles.

"Okay, okay, I won’t. I promise. Just hold on tight, alright? And if you feel uncomfortable, let me know right away" her voice is soft, caring, and she looks at you with a slight smile.

Her fingers are so warm against your cold hands that you flinch slightly, but as she continues to stroke your hands, you start to melt under her touch. Your cheeks heat up even more, and you’re thankful the helmet is hiding your blush.

"Thank you... I’ll definitely tell you if something’s wrong."

To your disappointment, Ellie removes her hand and starts the motorbike. You begin to move slowly, and you instinctively clutch her waist tighter, feeling the cold wind against your face. You press yourself closer to her back, soaking in the warmth of her body, feeling safe.

When you arrive at the university, your grip relaxes.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Did you get cold on the way?" Ellie asks.

"A bit, but I’m fine, thanks."

You hop off the motorbike, take off your helmet, and hand it to Ellie. She smiles at you, her gaze warm and caring.

"Will you come with me to my locker? I need to grab my notebooks" Ellie asks.

"Yeah, sure."

Ellie parks the motorbike and takes the keys. You walk with her to the university doors, and as you run ahead, you hold the door open, letting Ellie and a few other students pass through. Ellie throws you a warm smile, her gaze lingering a little longer than usual.

"Thanks" she says, her voice soft and sincere.

You notice the faint pink tinge on her cheeks, and it makes your heart swell with warmth. Lately, all you've wanted is to see her happy her smile means everything to you. She’s the reason you get up in the morning.

The crowd of students fills the corridor, and you feel a bit awkward in the hustle and bustle. Ellie, as always, notices. You walk in silence until she breaks it.

"You know, we could watch a movie" she suddenly suggests.

You don’t immediately register what you’ve just heard. Your eyes widen, and your lips stretch into a wide smile.

"A movie? I wouldn’t mind... When?" Your voice trembles slightly with surprise and joy.

Ellie seems a little embarrassed, her cheeks turning a soft pink. She starts rubbing her fingers together, as if nervous.

"Well... whenever it’s convenient for you."

You can’t take your eyes off her face, and the longer you stare, the more you feel your own cheeks starting to burn.

"Even tonight... if that’s okay with you, of course" you try to sound calm, but inside, a whirlwind of emotions rages.

Ellie nods, her green eyes sparkling in the dim light of the corridor.

"Yeah, I’m free tonight.. So, tonight?"

"Yeah,tonight" you whisper, lost in daydreams about how the evening might unfold.

You already imagine sitting next to her, watching the movie, feeling her warmth. But your fantasy is suddenly interrupted by a rough shove. Some guy squeezes past, pushing you both.

"Get away from my way" he barks, not bothering to look back.

You blink, not fully understanding what just happened. Then you turn to Ellie, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" you ask, your voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, I’m fine" she assures you, frowning slightly. "What about you?"

But your gaze is already fixed on the guy, who’s now rummaging through his locker like nothing happened. Thoughts of Ellie being hurt flood your mind.

"I’m... fine"

Your fists clench on their own as a wave of anger washes over you. You throw your backpack to the ground and march toward him, your rage barely contained.

Ellie notices and quickly follows you. The guy is taller than both of you, with a broad build, wearing a blue shirt and black trousers. Your heart pounds harder and harder, but your thirst for justice takes over.

"Hey, jerk, why’d you push us?" Your voice comes out harsh.

The guy doesn’t even turn to look at you, continuing to dig through his locker. That just makes you angrier.

Ellie, smirking, steps closer and slams his locker door shut, forcing him to acknowledge you both. He turns around, ignoring you and focusing on Ellie.

"Why did you push us?" she asks coldly, her tone unwavering.

"Back off" he snaps, grinning maliciously.

Ellie’s about to respond, but you’re faster. Grabbing him by the collar, you slam him against the locker and lean in close.

"You need to apologize" your voice is low and dangerous. "Or I’ll beat the crap out of you."

The guy looks shocked, clearly not expecting such a reaction. But his expression quickly changes to a sneer.

"Really?" he hisses. "Think you’re tough? Let me go, or you’ll both regret it"

His words sting. He’s threatening not only you but Ellie, too. That’s enough to push you over the edge. You tighten your fists and punch him square in the face, venting all your rage. He tries to grab at you, but Ellie steps in, delivering her own punch and pushing him away from you.

"Get off her, you bastard!" she shouts, her voice almost a growl.

A crowd of students starts to gather, some running up to pull you apart. In the scuffle, your sleeves ride up, exposing your wrists. The students gasp when they see the scars.

Ellie stands protectively behind you, but even she freezes when she catches sight of the marks on your skin. Her eyes dart from your wrists to your face, worry etched into her expression.

You don’t immediately understand why everyone’s staring at you like that. But then you see where Ellie’s gaze is fixed. You glance down at your wrists, realizing that the cuts you’ve worked so hard to hide are now visible to everyone.

Panic surges through you, and you quickly try to pull your sleeves back down, but it’s too late. Heat rushes to your face, your heart pounding so loud it echoes in your ears. Your hands begin to tremble, your back slick with adrenaline and fear. You notice a few students nearby whispering to each other, exchanging confused glances.

Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion. Every look, every whisper feels like a blow, and the world around you blurs. Tears well up in your eyes, and despite your best efforts, they spill over, rolling down your cheeks. You quickly wipe them away with your sleeve, but more follow, a torrent of emotions—shame, pain, vulnerability—crashing over you.

All you wanted to do was disappear, to get away from those prying eyes and discussions. Without thinking, you turned and ran. Leaving the backpack behind, leaving Ellie behind, leaving this agonizing moment behind.

Ellie watched you with her fists clenched. She saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, and felt her heart break with pain for you. She knew how important it was to be there for you right now, but you were already out of her sight. Anger rose up in her in a wave - not at you, but at the one who had caused all of this. Gritting her teeth, Ellie turned back to the guy who was standing in front of the locker, not yet fully aware of what had just happened. She took a step toward him, not giving him time to respond, and slammed her fist right into his face. Blood streamed from his nose, but she didn't stop. Grabbing him by the collar, she pulled him closer, pinning him against the metal locker doors.

“This is all because of you, you motherfucker!" Ellie gritted through her teeth, her voice low but full of anger.

She clenched her jaw so hard that the veins in her face were showing. The boy gasped in fear, his eyes widening, blood continuing to drip onto Ellie's hands. -

"I...I didn't know..." he wheezed, looking at her with horror.

"If I ever see you around again, I'm going to make it a lot worse" Ellie said, every word she said sounding with cold determination.

She finally let go of him and pushed him back to his locker, and turned to the crowd of students who were still standing in a daze, watching the scene.

"What are you looking at? Get the fuck out of here!" - she shouted, her voice sounding rough, almost growling.

The students began to slowly disperse, though some continued to furtively watch from afar. Ellie walked over to your abandoned backpack, picked it up and dusted it off. Her whole body was still shaking with adrenaline, but her thoughts were on you. She looked back in the direction you had run, and her face slowly faded from anger to worry and pain.

Where did you run to, my dear..." she murmured softly, clutching your backpack to her. She needed to find you, when you needed support the most.

Thank you for reading my first fanfic I hope you enjoyed it!🌟🏹🌿

->->-> Part 2 (Final Part)

[harrysfolklore]

hiii, could you do a part 2 to taylor giaviasis blurb??? she just had a baby girl and it would be top tier dadrry content 🥹

here it is ! some dad!harry for the soul 🥹 i hope you like it

CHECK OUT PART ONE | MY PATREON

ask me anything | masterlist | likes and reblogs are appreciated !

liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 605,736 others

yourinstagram Our family is getting bigger 😭🎉Baby #2 is on the way ! Can’t believe bubs is going to be a big brother 🥺

view all 43,973 comments

harryfan1 OMG HARRY WILL BE A DAD AGAIN

jefezoff I love this family so much ♥️

gemmastyles I can’t believe I’m going to be an auntie again I’m losing my mind

harrystyles Thank you for making me a daddy again, there’s no one else in this world I would want this with x

harryfan2 OMFGG I HOPE THEY HAVE A BABY GIRL

harryfan3 harry is going to have his second child i feel so old right now

liked by selenagomez, yourinstagram and 9,836,625 others

harrystyles Three become four x

view all 278,726 comments

harryfan1 CONGRATULATIONS HARRY

taylorswift Congratulations 💖 Much love to your beautiful family, I can’t wait to start knitting blankets for the little squish on the way 🥲

↳ harryfan2 TAYLOR ????

↳ taylorfan1 “cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart, now i send their babies presents” 🥹

adele ♥️

harryfan3 OKAY BUT HARRY STYLES FATHER OF TWO ???? HELL YES

billieeilish Where do i sign up to be part of this family??😩

liked by jefezoff, yourinstagram and 135,866 others

zanelowe A very special conversation with @harrystyles on paternity, music and balancing personal life and the spotlight. Coming this Monday at 10am pt. @applemusic

[LINK TO THE BLURB ABOUT THE INTERVIEW]

view all 12,037 comments

harryfan1 OHHH

harryfan2 i can’t wait to listen to this

harryfan3 i know zane wouldn’t fail us

harryfan4 YEEES

YN’S INSTAGRAM STORIES

//

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2 and 2,836 others

dilfrrystyles WE MET HARRY TODAY !! we asked him how was yn doing and his reply was "she's amazing, getting more gorgeous by the second" and he also said that they might know what they're having soon and he's excited MY HEART I CANT BELIEVE THIS HAPPENED

view all 968 comments

harryfan1 OMFG CONGRATS

harryfan2 AHH I LOVE FATHER HARRY

harryfan3 knowing him, he won't tell us what they're having

harryfan4 i still can't belive he's going to have another child

liked by harrystyles, lizzobeeating and 607,836 others

yourinstagram Put your favorite baby girl names down below 🌸

view all 43,983 comments

harryfan1 OH MY GOOOOD

annetwist I love my little girl already ❤️

harryfan2 HARRY STYLES GIRL DAD OMFG

harrystyles She’s not allowed to have boyfriends already

↳ harryfan3 he’s going to be one of those annoying dads lol

jefezoff Jeffrina

↳ harryfan1 WHAT THE HELL 😭😭😭

↳ yourinstagram GTFO

liked by niallhoran, yourinstagram and 8,736,903 others

harrystyles It’s coming to an end, and it’s almost time to meet our baby girl. As you reach the final stage of your pregnancy, I can’t help but be in awe of you. You’re the best mom to our bubba and you’ll be the best mom to our little girl. Thank you for putting up with the changes in your body, the hormones and pain. I love you, and I admire you.

view all 248,635 comments

harryfan1 HAAAARRRYYYY

lukehemmings 🥺🥺🥺💓

gemmastyles I love you both so much

harryfan2 if my husband doesn’t love me like this i’m divorcing

yourinstagram I’m a very, very pregnant woman about to pop and this doesn’t help with the hormones at all, i love you 🥲

harryfan3 THE BABY MUST BE COMING REALLY SOOOON

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2 and 28,937 others

celebrityleaks Harry Styles photographed outside a hospital today in London. It’s most likely that his daughter was born this weekend

view all 9,736 comments

harryfan1 FUCK PAPS

harryfan2 come on be respectful give them some privacy

harryfan3 harry is officially a father of two ???

harryfan4 this is not the way news should’ve come out ://

liked by harrystyles, pillowpersonpp and 897,637 others

yourinstagram Two weeks ago after five hours of labor my baby girl entered the world. Birth is a wild yet magical thing. Thank you to my doctors, midwife, family and friends for all that you did for me. And most importantly, thank you to my life partner for making this child with me, for physically holding me up while i brought her to the world and for being the best father to grace this earth.

view all 51,826 comments

harryfan1 OHHHH MY GOD

pillowpersonpp 🥺🥺🥺💓

harryfan2 HARRY IS A FATHER OF TWO

harrystyles There’s no one I would rather have as a life partner. Thank you for being the mother of my children. You’re the love of my life

↳ harryfan3 HARRYYYYY STOP

gemmastyles Bubba is going to be the best big brother ever 🥺🥺 my babies ❤️

liked by arianagrande, yourinstagram and 8,903,826 others

harrystyles My daughter has been part of our world for two weeks. Bubba is in love with his little sister and he’s willing to do anything for her and that’s such a sight to see. I feel like the luckiest man on the planet because this is my family. Thank you to everyone who has sent out love and joyous wishes, my family feels your love every day.

view all 203,836 comments

harryfan1 HARRY ILYSM

selenagomez Much love to your beautiful family ✨

harryfan2 i can’t believe he has two kids now

yourinstagram Thank you for giving me the family of my dreams, hubby

↳ harryfan3 STOP IT RIGHT NOW

lukehemmings 💖💖💖

taglist: @cucciolafaerie @eleanordaisy @sunflowersndpeaches @golden-hoax @alienorknight @daydreamingofmatilda @ivyproblems @ayeshathestyles s @stylesmygucci @gimsaysay @rosaliedepp @dontworrysunflower @milfrrynation @manifestrry @iceebabies @harrystylesrecs @pleasingrryyy y @harianaswhore @noitsmebecky @abeanontoast t @grapejuice-rry @vrittivsanghavi @msolbesg @tati813 @sad1esgf @itsgabbysblog @theekyliepage @watermelonsugacry @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @musicforcinemas @harrybabyyyyyyy @tinydeskwriter @noooovaaaaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mxltifxnd0m @rach2602 @balletdancerry @b-reads-things @juiceboxrry @lomlolivia @itsgigikay @goldensstateofgrace @missmielyhoran @fdl305 @lightsoutstyles

[anangelwhodidntfall]

Spooky Basket: Lewis Hamilton

Formula One Masterlist

word count: 800

description: You and your boyfriend surprise each other with spooky baskets for halloween

A/N: this was supposed to be posted halloween but work and school got in the way! So Happy Late Halloween 💖

Lewis was checking his notifications while he waited for you to get off of work when he saw your tweet that said "it's fine I didn't want a spooky basket anyway 😭." He closed out twitter and went to google to see what a boo basket was and began getting some ideas on what to do for you and decided to make you one for Halloween. He saw you walking out of your building and quickly locked his phone before climbing out of his car to come greet you. 

"Hey sweetheart, I missed you. How was work today?" He asked wrapping his arms around you and placing a kiss on your lips. 

"Hey baby, I missed you too and it was alright, my feet are killing me and I'm hungry." You said. 

"Well why don't we get you off your feet and go grab some takeout before we head home? And then after we eat, I'll give you a nice foot massage." He offered.

"That sounds nice. Hey do you think Saturday you could come with me while I grab the stuff I need for um Angelica's boo basket?" You asked him as he helped you into the car. 

"Of course, you know I love spending time with you while you run errands." He said placing a kiss on your lips. 

You guys headed to y'all's favorite takeout spot before heading home where you ate and were given the foot massage you were promised. 

While you were at work the next few days Lewis worked on your spooky basket that way he wouldn't risk you finding out about it because he truly wanted to surprise you on Halloween with it and the special halloween flowers he was having made for you. After he finished it up he went your best friends house to leave it there until Halloween which was in two days so you didn't accidentally find it. 

"She's gonna love this? And the flowers you are having made." Your best friend said as she looked at the basket. 

"You think so? I've never done anything like this before but I saw her tweet and wanted to surprise her with it and the flowers." He said nervously.

"She's gonna love it Lewis just for the fact that you took the time to make it for her." She said squeezing his hand. 

"Thank you again, I'll probably come get it Monday night if that's alright with you." He asked. 

"That's perfect with me, and if I'm not here Kyle knows where it is and can give it to you." She said as Lewis nodded his head before heading out.

Your friend smiled after Lewis left, because little did Lewis know is that you had made him a spooky basket weeks ago and had been hiding it with her so he wouldn't find it.

It was the day before Halloween well more so a few hours before it and you and Lewis were on the couch watching a horror movie together when the doorbell rang. You looked at him confused as he got up to answer it before coming back inside with a huge bouquet of flowers. 

"You got me flowers?" You asked him. 

"Not just any flowers but special Halloween ones, I hope you like them." He said handing you the bouquet. 

You took them and were shocked to see he had you custom flowers made that were decorated with ghostface and the wrapping paper said "let me murdered that pussy" which made you laugh. 

"Thank you so much baby, I love them and as for that quote you will be never be denied doing that." You said as you kissed him. 

"I'm glad you like them and good to know but this is part of your Halloween gift, do you want the other half now or do you want to wait until tomorrow?" He  asked you. 

"Would it be wrong to say I want it now because I'm curious to see what the other half is." You asked him. 

"Not at all. I'll be right back sweets." He said placing a kiss on your forehead before disappearing down the hall. 

A few minutes later he returns with a Halloween bucket in your hands and you look at him in shock because he didn't actually make you a spooky basket for you? Did he?? He handed you the basket and you wordless sat there looking through it which was making Lewis nervous. 

"I'm sorry if this isn't the best but I tried because I know how much you wanted one. I hope you like it, i worked really..."he started to say before you threw your arms around him. 

"Thank you...so much baby. You don't know how this means to me that you made this for me. I love it, the flowers and you so much." You said to him. 

"Your welcome sweetheart. You know I do anything for you especially to see you smiling like you are right now. I love you so much sweetheart." He said placing a kiss on your lips. 

"I love you Bubs. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go get your gift." You said leaving him confused as you disappeared down the hall. 

Lewis sat there confused until you returned with your own spooky basket in hand that you walked over and handed to him. 

"For you." You said as you took a seat next to him. 

"Awh sweetheart you shouldn't have." He said as he looked through his basket. 

"Of course I did. Your my man and you deserve a spooky basket as well." You said making him smile. 

"Well thank you sweetheart, I love it and you so much. Happy Halloween my love." He said placing a kiss on your lips. 

"Happy Halloween Bubs." You said smiling at him. 

*BONUS* 

Y/N added to their story!

Y/N added to their story!

Lewis Hamilton added to their story!

[magistralucis]

@absolut--kurant!

I think we should all take an example from the collared dove that my mums photographed outside our house twice now just smiling . Look at that lil guy.

[harrywavycurly]

Sarah my dear dear sweet Sarah I am on my knees begging for a look into the future with One Night Eddie and Reader when Dotty is older! I’ll take anything! I just love them🥰😇

Hiiii babes!!! You’re so sweet, I will give you some conversations with Eddie and Reader where Dotty is older like toddler-ish and in kindergarten! I hope you enjoy!💖

-find all things It Was Just One Night here ✨

“Why is she wearing that?” “Because we are going to the pool…” “Eddie…you can’t be serious.” “Uh yeah? I’m off for the day and she said she wanted to go do swimmies so…that’s what we are going to do.” “The pool is closed today….it’s Monday.” “What? No it’s not it’s closed on Tuesday’s.” “Are you calling me a liar?” “Why are you like this? No I’m not calling you a liar I’m just saying the pool is normally closed on Tuesday’s.” “Okay then walk down there and see if it’s open…we will be here putting on sunscreen.” “And if it’s closed? Then what?” “Then you’re going to be dad of the year and go get a blow up pool and put it in the backyard….duh.” “Right! Yeah that’s a good idea….love you I’ll be back either in a few minutes or like an hour depending on…what happens when I get to the pool.” “Sounds good.” “Uh..you..wanna say anything to me before I leave?” “Oh sorry..love you too…now hurry up we wanna do swimmies.”

“You have to make her eat something other than chicken nuggets and Mac and cheese.” “Why? She likes what she likes and besides she had broccoli with her Mac n cheese.” “Babe she can’t have your eating habits okay? She needs to like…try new stuff.” “What exactly is wrong with my eating habits Eddie? Hmm?” “I’m not doing this with you…just please maybe tomorrow we can try something new? She’s like four now so she isn’t as picky as she was when she was a baby.” “Next thing you know you’ll be buying her a water bottle from hell to keep track of how much she’s drinking.” “That’s not a bad-” “just let her eat what she likes Eddie…it’s hard enough to even get her to eat her nuggets…that’s why they have to be in fun shapes or she gets bored and won’t eat anything.” “Gee wonder where she gets that from…” “i can’t help that I am more likely to eat something in a fun shape than something that looks boring…now go see if she wants more chicken.”

“It’s her first week of kindergarten and we are already getting a call from her school?” “Don’t look at me…all I did was drop her off at her classroom and went to work.” “Baby…you’re a horrible fucking liar..what did you do?” “I didn’t do shit Edward…” “just tell me.” “I just want to say you would’ve done the exact same thing if you were the one who dropped her off.” “Stop stalling and tell me what happened.” “This bitchy ass mom was walking behind us and I heard her say something about Dotty’s shirt and-” “her shirt? The one she wore today?…it’s just a Metallica shirt…” “exactly and she was saying how she felt sorry for some kids and how their parents dress them.” “Oh god…did you hit her?” “What? No I didn’t fucking hit her you asshole….I dropped Dotty off to her room and then I saw the mom in the parking lot and I…just told her how I felt about what she said.” “Right…and what exactly did you tell her?” “That she doesn’t need to feel sorry for my daughter…but..I might’ve said that I feel sorry for hers because she has a boring ass bitch for a mom.” “Jesus….how are we going to explain ourselves out of this? The principal is the one who wants to meet with us.” “Just toss them some Eddie charm and offer a free oil change or something.” “You’re going to have to apolo-” “it’s bad to lie so..I won’t be apologizing to her.” “You’re so annoying…fine I’ll go in there alone and…see what I can do.” “That’s my man! Go knock ‘em dead.”

“Look at her…doing the monkey-bars all by herself…remember when she needed us to help her up the steps so she could go down the slide?” “Yes…she’s growing up too fast…next thing you know she’ll be asking us to drive her places and never wanna be seen with us.” “Speak for yourself…I’m a fucking cool dad she’ll wanna be seen with me.” “Really? You’re wearing a Fanny pack right now…nothing about that says cool dad.” “It’s easier than carrying the backpack around…it has all the things she needs in it.” “I will say…we are way cooler than those parents over there…total helicopter parents.” “Oh yeah they look like newbies…won’t even let their little boy go down the slide alone.” “He’s so cute though.” “I bet we’d make a cute little boy…” “who’s we? I told you this baby factory only does limited editions and Dotty is a one of one.” “I guess Dotty is all we really need…she is kinda perfect.” “She really is isn’t she? We got lucky with her.” “I love you.” “I love you too..even when you wear your lame ass Fanny pack.

[padfootagain]

Bookshelves

Hi everyone ! Here is a cute little something to answer this anonymous request for my 6k event : “I am in love with your writing style 💖😍 Can you make ben Barnes one with trope 16?”

Thank you for your request, anon! Hope you like the cute drabble I wrote for it!

****

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Warnings: so much fluff you will get cavities

Summary: Nothing’s better than reorganizing your bookshelves with the love of your life on a crispy autumnal afternoon…

Word count: 1258 (short but sweet!)

Ben Barnes’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

The air is crisp and cold and you love it. It’s greyer than the leaves outside, they still wear their orange and red colours. The sky matches the global atmosphere of that afternoon: heavy with upcoming rain, gradients between black and white, smelling of the earth after a storm. You have a warm mug waiting for your lips right by your side, there, on the floor. A warm blanket wrapped around your frame and a fire cracking over cold stones. It’s warm, it’s autumn in all its splendour.

It's a simple afternoon, basked in Eta James’s voice, and it’s easy to forget that tomorrow is just another Monday, that you will have to go to work and get up before dawn and fight the cutting edges of the cold wind against your cheeks. It’s easy to forget that this day will have to end. Especially when Ben’s voice rises from somewhere behind you, a low hum that spreads warmth and reassurance across your heart, makes it skip a few beats in its excitement. He’s humming along the melody, matching the warmth of the saxophone and the quietness of his padding feet against the tiles. When he sits down by your side again, a refill of warm tea in his favourite mug, his hair is dishevelled, wearing an old black hoodie and some sweatpants, along with colourful fuzzy socks.

And you love it. You’ve never found him as stunning as he is now, looking cozy and warm and infinitely intimate in the simplicity of his appearance. Nothing fancy. Nothing done to impress you. You’ve passed this uneasy stage of your relationship a long time ago. You love each other too much now to accept anything from the other but their true self. You admire the curve of his jaw darkened with stubble, and the grace of his eyelashes brushing his pale cheeks, and the enticing beauty spot under his right eye. You’re not even thinking as you reach up to brush his messy dark strands of hair back, out of his face, so you can see him better. He’s smiling, turning towards you as you move your fingers through his hair, just the way he likes it.

“Alright, so… how do we proceed with this?” he asks, something mischievous glinting in his dark eyes, and you can’t supress a smile.

The task at hand is huge: rearranging the bookshelves of two people who adore reading is going to be a mission that will keep you both busy for the whole day. You’re going to love every second of it, no doubt.

“Do you want to reorganize everything by author? Genre? Colour?”

“Author is more practical.”

“Colour is prettier.”

He chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“I will do whatever makes you happy, my darling.”

“Do you want to separate our collections?”

He raises an eyebrow at that.

“We share a last name by now, we’re done compartmentalizing stuff and labelling them as ‘yours’ or ‘mine’. Whenever you’re sick, even your bloody virus becomes mine…”

You laugh at that, playfully pinching his thigh.

“Hey! It’s not my fault if you caught my cold last month! I told you to stop cuddling me, and you didn’t!”

“You looked too miserable. I was feeling too bad for you…”

The admittance is a mix of fondness, shyness and something extra-sweet that your heart can’t handle. It quickens its pace as it overloads.

“Right, so… we’re putting them all together, but how? Because for now, our books are a mess.”

“I vote authors. Because I’m an organised person,” Ben argues, but you pull your tongue at him at the playful teasing in his tone.

“I vote colours, cause it’s more aesthetically pleasing.”

“I vote for whatever makes you happy, cause I’m a clever lad, and I know I need to pick my battles in this relationship…”

“Clever lad, indeed!”

You exchange a laugh and a tender kiss, before starting to empty the shelves, Ben standing up to take the books out and passing them to you so you could organize them in piles.

It takes what looks like forever to empty all the shelves fully. You have mountains of books around you by the time you’re done, and Ben has changed the music to some Louis Armstrong and his trumpet. It has started to rain, and you have to turn on the lights as the sky turns a darker shade of grey. The rhythmic pattern of the rain against the windowpane and the rooftop warms your heart, and draws white clouds over the windows.

Ben is becoming increasingly distracted though. By the time the shelves are empty, he’s restless and keeps on playfully pushing your legs with his feet.

“Stop it!” you smack his foot away when he attacks again, making him giggle in the most adorable way.

“Let’s take a break,” he argues with such an adorable pout, you are this close from yielding, but you don’t, shaking your head.

“Come on, we can cuddle after we’re done with this,” you offer, and you notice the grin he fails to hide.

“In bed?”

“In bed.”

“Can I be little spoon?”

“If you want to, sure.”

This time he gives you a proper grin, bright and full of mischief.

“Oh, that’s a deal! Hurry up!”

You laugh at him as he starts picking piles of books, but he quickly slows down to organize the shelves correctly.

And you love it, it’s so satisfying to reorganize your bookshelves. You add some figurines, some cute pictures of the two of you as decoration to fill up the empty spaces on the shelves. And then it’s finally done, complete.

“I have to admit that the rainbow thingy looks stunning. Highly impractical, but stunning.”

“I think so myself!”

Ben drinks up the cold remnants of his tea, wincing at the nasty taste.

“We did such a good job! All our books finally put together in a pretty way!”

Ben hums in agreement, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to hold you closer, dropping a sweet kiss to your head.

“We did an excellent job!”

That’s when he realizes that his favourite figurine is missing. He looks around frantically, but you merely chuckle as you point towards the coffee table.

“Marty’s over there,” you joke, and he heaves a relieved sigh, walking over to get his Back to the Future figurine, and he places it on a shelf.

“Now, it’s perfect!” he chimes, turning towards you. “And I think we deserve to rest now.”

“You mean… cuddle?”

“Of course, I mean cuddle! You promised I would get cuddles out of this, do not break your word!”

You laugh at him but follow him anyway, teasing him some more while you make your way to your bedroom.

A few minutes later, you are buried under blankets, watching the rain fall on your windows, the touches of red from the trees in the distance, Ben tugged into your side, his head buried in the warmth of your neck as you stroke gently his back.

He heaves a content sigh.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers into your skin. “God… I’m so happy right now. This is the best, isn’t it? Just… doing the simplest of things together. Just… doing nothing. Just… being here, together.”

You hum, kissing his forehead, and you notice then that he has closed his eyes. He’ll soon fall asleep, he often does when you hold him like this. He can’t help it. He feels so peaceful in your arms, safe, untroubled.

“Yeah… yeah, I think that’s the best, indeed…”

[littlelioncub43]

Ok for murderer Monday 😶‍🌫️

Imagine being softdark!Lee's little housewife and getting your period and he gets soooooo protective of you esp. in public and when you're both alone and you're in pain and he's heard that pleasure can fix that sooooo....

AaaaAAAAAAH YES. It's been so long since I wrote for Lee. I need more Lee thots hehe

Home Remedies

Summary: When your period comes with a vengeance, Lee is quick to dote on you. But when the regular methods of pain relief seem to be failing you, Lee suggests another way to make you feel better.

Pairing: soft dark!Lee Bodecker x fem!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), fluff, fingering (f receiving), pet names (princess, baby doll, baby, nothing crazy), period sex, bleeding (obvi), Lee being Lee which is naturally darker but still very loving, brief mentions of force feeding, dry humping, Lee coming in his pants, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Word count: idk, I wrote this on my phone.

A/N: Holy crap, I accidentally wrote a fic! Look at me go! This was supposed to be short but it turned out to be a full length fic! I'm honestly so surprised and proud of myself. I hope you enjoy it! Hehe let me know how you feel! Comments and reblogs are always welcome! 💖

Kisses 💋

—K

Lee made it a point to track your cycle, it made life easier for the both of you. He knew when your attitude was less than agreeable that your monthly was just round the corner, which helped him keep a level head most of the time. He knew when you'd burst into tears because you were out of lemons and he forgot to pick them up from the store, that your monthly was approaching. As much as it drove him up the walls to have you all over the place, he knew there was no avoiding it. Just as there was no avoiding the itch deep inside him to watch over you.

On a good day, Lee had a hard time leaving you at home by yourself. The worry that someone might break in, or something might happen while he's gone lived permanently in the back of his head. No matter how many times that you tell him that you're more than capable of taking care of yourself, Lee had a hard time buying it. He just wants to make sure you're safe, that's all.

So when you're curled up in bed way past the time you normally get up, that need to hover around you comes back full swing. You were certain there was a knife in your abdomen, and it was slowly but surely cutting its way through your insides. You were flushed hot, but felt annoyingly chilly at the same time. After 20 minutes of wrestling with the blankets you found a position that didn't hurt.

"Babydoll?" You hear Lee's groggy voice laced with concern from behind you. "You feelin' ok?"

"Cramps," is all you could say through the discomfort. Lee clocked the pained whine in your voice and the waves of tension that radiated off of you immediately.

"Period come early, or your tummy?" He sat up and rubbed his eyes, ready to get whatever you needed.

"Period," you grumble softly. He grunts in acknowledgement and makes his way towards the medicine cabinet, grabbing the painkillers and a cool washcloth for your forehead, he could feel the heat emanating from you.

"Here you go, honey," he whispers as he hands you the two pills and the glass of water you keep by your bedside. You swallow them down with some effort, the water settling in your stomach makes you nauseated.

"Thanks," you sigh as he sets the half empty cup down and eases the damp washcloth across your heated skin.

"Y'welcome," he whispers and mozies his way downstairs, ready to call Ida at the station to tell her that he won't be in today. He comes back to bed less than 10 minutes later, lightly buttered toast and a small plate of fruit in hand. You sigh when you see the food, knowing that it's a lot easier to just eat the food rather than argue with him about it. Last time you did, he sat there and basically forced the slices if oranges down your throat. Lesson learned.

Once Lee was satisfied with the amount of food you'd eaten, he tucked you back into bed, this time setting a red towel beneath you to catch any excess blood.

"There you go," he presses a kiss to your face and straightens up, "if y'need anythin', you tell me, alright?"

"I will, honey, thank you," you smile up at him softly. While he still was the rough and burly sheriff of Knockemstiff, you couldn't deny the fact that he loved you to pieces. He gave you that boyish smile that he knows you love so much, and went about his way.

Your little nap lasted for about an hour before the cramps came back with a vengeance. The dull ache was now replaced with piercing pains that shot through you. Deep groans pulled their way from your throat as you writhe in your spot, unwanting to move too much.

"What's the matter?" a concerned Lee ask from the door, your pained groans having alerted him. Unable to answer him, he crosses the room to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, still in his pajama pants and undershirt. "Is it bad? Want more pills?"

"N-Nooo," you whimper with a shake of your head, you knew they'd do nothing to quell the pain in your abdomen.

"What do you need, honey? Tell me," he sighs softly, his face pinched in pain, mirroring your own grimace. Seeing you like this definitely did a number on him. "Hm?"

"Don't know," you mumble, frustrated that you have no clue what could possibly make this better.

"Wanna try something? I heard it's supposed t'help make everything better," he says, a playful yet caring glint in his eye. He can tell he has your attention now, that you're just desperate enough to want relief no matter how you got it. "They say that gettin' off helps relax the muscles that are crampin', helps you relax. Don't that sound nice?"

Lee tucks a strand of your hair behind your head, smiling when you nuzzle into his palm on instinct. He read about it months ago and was just waiting for the opportunity to put it to the test. Now all he has to do is get you to agree, which he knows is going to be a piece of cake. He watches as you chew over his proposition.

"Gettin' off?" You ask softly, looking up at your husband.

"Yes, babydoll," he leans in closer with a soft nod, slowly but surely moving to hover over you, "gettin' you off... makin' you finish."

It's second nature to spread your thighs for Lee, your body welcoming his own as he cages you in underneath him. You could see the predatory gleam in his eye as he watched you, waiting patiently for your answer. You knew that this was partly for his own pleasure, but the saccharine promise of relief from the pain was enough for you.

"Ok," you nod, your arms moving to lazily sling around his broad shoulders. Lee gives you that pleased smirk that sends butterflies fluttering through your tummy, a welcomed contrast to the shooting jabs and dull aches.

"Alright," he purrs, clearly pleased with your answer, and lowers his body down to yours carefully. You whine softly at the pressure, but he's quick to shush you gently. "It's ok, babydoll, it's alright. Jus' let me take care of everythin', and you be a good girl and relax, hm? All you gotta do is feel good."

He whispers his loving promises into your skin as he peppers tender kisses along your jaw, making his way to your lips. You both let out a shared moan of relief when your lips finally slot together. The slow movements of Lee's unfairly large hands pull your mind away from the discomfort you feel, the further south they travel the heavier you breathe.

"L-Lee," you moan into his mouth when he gently cups your sex, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he holds you in his palm, the heat from your core drove him fucking crazy. He groans softly as he begins to pet you, stroking your mound in slow motions, careful not to push too hard. Your eyes stay shut as small little whimpers of pleasure fall from your lips. The feeling of his hand rubbing your sensitive parts has a mixture of arousal and blood gushing out of you, just for Lee to feel.

"That's it, babygirl," he groans, letting his own eyes shut for a moment to just feel the growing wetness of your cunt through your panties. The small sparks of pleasure are soon not enough anymore, and you try to tell him with a gentle nudge of your hips. "Wan' more already?"

"Uh-huh," you nod, ignoring the teasing lilt to his voice. He gives your lips another peck before he's peeling off your panties and discarding them to the floor.

"So wet for me, aren't ya, Sweetheart? Always so wet," he coos as his thick fingers glide easily through your petals. Lee bites his lip when he smells the metalic scent of your blood mixing with the tang of your arousal— he could get used to this.

"Oh my god," you sigh and grip his white undershirt in your fists, your head lolling to the side as he circles your clit in slow, precise movements. You were so fucking sensitive, it was nearly overwhelming. The gentle touches left you burning for more and breathless, then you had Lee above you, watching your every expression with his own hungry gaze, and speaking in that thick drawl— it was dizzying.

"Oh, fuck!" You whimper as a thick finger fills you slowly, your back arches off the bed on instinct. The deep grunt that leaves Lee has you clamping down around his forefinger, his thumb replacing his finger on your clit. Lee was certain he's never been this hard in his life than he is right now, watching you lose yourself to the pleasure he's providing. His cock flexes against your inner thigh as he pumps his finger in and out of you at a sluggish pace.

"There you go, baby, there you go," he rasps under his breath, his eyes drinking in every little expression you make. The way your nose scrunches, how your eyebrows furrow together when he touches that special spot inside you, the way your gorgeous lips stay parted to let those beautiful moans flow freely. "So fucking beautiful, y'know that? Make me so crazy for ya, Princess, can't get enough a'you, never get enough."

The stretch of another finger joining his first has your hips trying to rut, chasing the pleasure, but Lee's heavy frame keeps you in your spot. He speeds up ever so slightly, the sound of his fingers sinking into your sopping cunt over and over fill the room.

"Oh fuck, y'hear that? Hear how wet you are?" Lee growls, the slick sounds being his undoing. His fingers speed up, keeping their pressure light as he stretches you out. You gasp and moan as the pleasure builds, the tension growing in your lower tummy draws tighter and tighter with each swipe of his thumb against your clit.

"Lee, m'gonna cum!" You gasp and toss your head back, your legs squirming as he works you closer and closer to your high.

"Yeah? Y'gonna cum on my fingers, baby? Gonna make a fucking mess?" His voice is rough, his own hips beginning to rut, humping himself against your thigh for some relief. The act alone sends you shooting higher ans higher towards your crest. "C'mon, honey, I want you t'come for me."

You didn't stand a chance.

"Lee!" You cry out as you finish, your body thrashing as waves of bliss crash down over you again and again. You can hear Lee's pleased grunts in your ear as you clench down around his fingers, his thumb working you through your high. A rush of wetness seeps from your core, coating Lee's hand and dripping down your skin to the towel. It's not long until you feel his covered cock throbbing wildly against you.

"F-Fuck!" He curses harshly as his own end catches up to him, soaking his boxers and pajama pants. Throaty groans resonate through his chest as he rocks against you to milk his high as long as possible. Heavy breaths replace the moans that filled the shared bedroom. Peeling your eyes open, you gaze up at the ceiling as you try to catch your breath.

Lee sighs and pulls himself from the comfort of your shoulder to look down at you with a soft smile. His face flushed pink and sweat beads his forehead from your activities and shared body heat and you can't help but beam up at him with that same lovesick smile you give him.

"How're y'feelin', Princess, any better?" He asks in a breathless voice. You giggle softly and relax your grip on his shirt to smooth out the wrinkles you left.

"I forgot that's what this was for," you admit bashfully, making him chuckle with you.

"Well, good, then I did my job right."

"You always do, Sheriff Bodecker," you coo and give him a kiss, already feeling more like yourself. Lee groans into the kiss at the title.

"You're a little minx," he whispers in between another kiss before propping himself up on his forearm, giving his attention to his fingers still buried in your cunt. "Fuuuuck me," he groans when he sees the mess you made. A thin layer of blood coats your inner thighs and part of his hand, the glisten of your cum recognizable on your lips and his wrist. Slowly, he withdraws from your pussy, watching intensely as his fingers emerge coated in your essence and blood.

The little whimper you give when he leaves you completely empty has his dick stirring in his trousers. Lee sucks in a deep breath as he brings his fingers from between your legs to get a better look.

"Would y'look at that?" He marvels, mostly to himself, as his fingers gleam in the late morning sunshine. Your face heats up at his actions, embarrassment taking hold as he shows you his bloody, cum covered fingers. Lee's eyes are fixed on his digits as he plays with the strings of wetness for a moment before bringing them to his lips. A loud moan vibrates in his chest at your taste, his eyes sliding shut in bliss as he cleans you from his hand. He finally releases them with a pop.

"Fuckin' divine is what you are, Princess. Fuckin' heavenly," he growls, his dick fully hard in his pajama pants as he begins to rut into your thigh again, his eyes dark with hunger again as he quickly unties the drawstring of his pants. "M'gonna fuck ya all fuckin' week, make sure ya don't feel nothin' but pleasure— fuck, m'gonna take care of ya, Princess, I promise."

And he did.

Comments and reblogs are always welcome! Hehe

I no longer have a taglist! If you wish to stay up-to-date on when I post, follow @littlelioncub-library 💖

[romanestuffsposts]

Hi....

I have a surgery on Monday an I soooo scared 😢 it not bad or anthing just so my sore throat will go 'way.... can you write somefing bout tha? You don't have too

Anway, loveee youuu allll 🫶🏻🫶🏻💛❤️🩷💜💖💕

Hi there love! 💜

Oh sweetie i'm sure it's gonna be okay. Surgeries can be scary but remember that you're in good hands, they know what they have to do and they know how to do it. You'll feel better afterwards I promise you baby

Anyway, if the surgery hadn't happened yet i give you all of my strenght and if it already happened then first of all i'm sorry it didn't came out before to reassure you but I hope it can help you relaxing right after. I pray so that everything will be going well!

If you have the chance or if you want, I would love to have an uptade on you sweetie <3 (no rush andyou don't have to if you don't want to ;)

Have all the rest you can! And take avantage of it, you can be the little princess for as long as you you need it after the surgery ❤️

PS : it's a short one but I really wanted to get it done for the day of your surgery &lt;3

****

Warnings : surgery comfort, fear, reassurance, kisses, pet names, love

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : they gave you all of their attention for your stressful day

*****

"i scaed, daddy" you say with a trembling voice. Your body is covered by the white sheets of the hospital room and your eyes hurt from the vif color.

The fact that you have to wait is adding to your anxiety and your fear. You learned yesterday that you had to be operate and since then your anxiety couldn't stop growing.

"I know baby, i know. but you remember what we talked about yesterday night ?"

It was almost midnight and you couldn't sleep at all. You got up from bed and went to your Daddies, you were too scared for the next day and needed comfort from them more than ever.

You sneak into their bed and noticed that they were awake too "what are you doing here little one ?" your Daddy asks while sitting down.

Your Papa light up his nighstand lamp and sit down beside your Papa "why aren't you sleeping ? It's really late"

"i scaed"

"oh sweetie"

"baby look at me" your Daddy asks, caressing your knee to calm you down. You look at him with tears in your eyes "you need to do the surgery, i know it's very scary and i understand it but you need it."

"You'll be less in pain afterward and we'll be there for you through it all. You'll never feel alone, not even once. We won't leave your side and you'll feel us beside you at each seconds. I promise you"

You sniff and look at your Papa "do you trust us ?" you nod. "do you believe in us ?" You nod again. "Then for as long as we're standing beside you, nothing bad will happen"

A few tears fall down your cheeks and you crawl toward their open arms. They held you close to them until you fall asleep.

"do you still trust us ?" Your Papa asks. You nod, a scared look on your face "then trust us when we say that it's gonna be alright. We will be right here when you wake up"

"pomise ?"

"we promise princess" he kisses your little hand.

~

"hi babydoll" Your Daddy's hand caresses your forehead as your tired eyes finally opened. It's been ten minutes that you're waking up and then falling back asleep because of anesthesia.

"keep it easy, princess" your Papa rushes toward you "you have all the time you need to come back on earth" He kisses your forehead to reassure you.

"everything went well, your surgery is done and nothing bad happened. You're fine now" just like they promised you

[unpredictable-probabilities]

A Star's Respite

Part 1 of The Home That Waits Outside the Spotlight

Summary:

After not being able to see his dear sister for a long time, actor Morpheus Evermoore decides to defy his superiors' stifling schedule and leave to attend her birthday.

Meanwhile, times have fallen hard on The White Horse pub due to competition from new businesses. Owner Hob Gadling contemplates on closing it down, thinking it unlikely that a solution would present itself anytime soon.

Word Count: 11,799

Notes (more at the end):

For Dreamling Week Day 6: Monochromatic

[Read on AO3]

---

Morpheus made his way to his trailer as the film crew began packing up the equipment. They had just wrapped up the last day of filming for his latest movie, and he was sincerely hoping he would get at least a few minutes of peace. And possibly lunch. It was almost noon, but they’d been so busy that he hadn’t had a chance to eat breakfast apart from the singular chocolate chip cookie that his assistant Matthew managed to shove into his hand a few minutes before filming.

He went into his trailer and closed the door behind him, taking his phone from the dresser and sitting on the small couch. He unbuttoned the front of his tuxedo and tried to settle down as best he could.

Usually he changed out of his film clothes immediately, in order to not risk damage on any properties of the costume department, but he owned this particular ensemble, and he had more pressing matters to attend to.

He unlocked his phone and viewed the notifications.

As he had expected, there was a message from his little sister. They had been having a conversation earlier before it was interrupted by his work schedule.

He opened the message.

Blysse: It’s okay if you really can’t come to my birthday. I understand. We’ll just see each other next time you’re not busy 💖

Morpheus sighed and ran a hand down his face. Ever since his career picked up a few years ago, he had missed so many important events in her life; school plays, ballet recitals, and most recently, birthdays.

Blysse never complained, which made it worse, somehow. Morpheus hated seeing how sad her eyes looked whenever he had to tell her on video call that he wouldn’t be able to make it home on time. He would rather her get angry with him if it meant she would not be so upset after.

Morpheus checked his schedule on his phone for what felt like the hundredth time this week. Blysse’s 18th birthday party would be on Sunday, three days from now. With the filming finished today and nothing else lined up for this week, he should have some time to himself. He already brought it up to his manager, but Mr. Fry didn’t want him leaving the city, insisting that he should start preparing for the press tour that would start in three weeks. There was a photoshoot on Monday too, and Mr. Fry didn’t want him to leave on Sunday and risk being unable to attend it.

Erasmus Fry had always been his manager, and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful by arguing about the schedules. Yet there was an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he would remember that he hadn’t seen Blysse in nearly a year now.

His phone lit up with a notification. He opened it to see a message from Blysse.

Blysse: I made this for your birthday last year, it was supposed to be a surprise but you weren’t able to come home. Be here on your birthday this year so I can give it to you! ^_^

The attached photo was a painting of him, a rendition of his movie poster from his very first film, but Blysse had done it in her unique style using vibrant colours that seemed to leap off the canvas.

Morpheus bit the inside of his cheek to quell the emotions rising within him. Truly, Blysse deserved all the love and care in the world. He only wished he could give her even a fraction of it.

He looked at his schedule again and at Blysse’s messages. A determined frown creased his forehead and his mouth set into a hard line.

He slightly opened his trailer door and looked around outside. The film crew was halfway done with packing up, and Mr. Fry was nowhere to be seen.

He quickly grabbed his wallet and keys on the dresser, securing them in his pockets. He sent a quick text to Blysse:

Morpheus: I shall be there for your birthday.

He turned off his phone, slipped out of his trailer, and closed the door behind him.

He casually walked to the far side of the trailer to hide him from view of the film crew, and sprinted towards the direction of the main road.

***

Hob set down the mug on the rack after he finished polishing it. He picked up a second mug and started the process all over again. The White Horse wouldn’t be open for another two hours, and none of his staff are here yet, but he needed something to do. The pub hadn’t been doing so well recently, with new competition popping up all over the place and that mall that just opened down the next block. He was still able to pay the electric bill and rent for the building, but he wasn’t so confident about next month. He had enough saved up that he’d be able to move to some other, smaller place, and he could always go back to teaching, but he was worried about the staff. As the owner of the pub, he felt that he should be able to do more for the people who relied on him.

That was why he had gone here, behind the bar, cleaning dishware that didn’t need cleaning. He had to think of a way to promote the pub somehow. They still had loyal customers, so he knew that the quality of their food or service hadn’t gone down. The problem was visibility; it was difficult to gain new customers when most people don’t even know about the pub.

He didn’t want his staff to be suddenly out of jobs, and he had to come up with something soon. It wasn’t like the solution to all his problems would just barge through the front door.

A sudden sound startled Hob out of his thoughts.

He looked over and saw that someone was prying open the sliding window on the far wall. He tensed at the possibility of a burglary, but who would rob a place at high noon?

The slender figure slipped in through the window and slammed it shut, crouching low on the floor and peeking out the window.

By this point Hob noticed that it was a man, too finely dressed to be a burglar of any sort. His tuxedo alone probably cost more than Hob’s rent.

A group of men in black uniforms ran past, and the tuxedoed man ducked quickly out of sight. He heaved a sigh of relief and sat back against the wall.

He met Hob’s gaze, and his eyes widened.

Hob probably didn’t look any different; he almost dropped the mug when he recognized the man sitting on his floor.

Oh my god.

“I apologise.” The man quickly stood up and walked over to the bar. “I did not mean to break into your establishment. I was just…” he cast a worried glance over his shoulder towards the window before looking at Hob again. “May I stay for a few minutes? I promise not to get in the way.”

Hob had just been staring wide-eyed the entire time, his brain still catching up to the fact that a movie star had just climbed in through his window. There was no mistaking that deep voice; Hob had seen a few films of Dream Evermoore and this was definitely him. And okay, maybe he had seen a bit more than a few films. Maybe he had seen all of them. But who’s counting?

“Um…” Hob finally found his voice. His wits were slowly returning to him, and he realised how worried Dream looked. The man’s eyes looked strained, and his fingers were tapping nervously on the bar. “Are you alright? Are you in danger?” Hob glanced at the window, but fortunately no one else was approaching. Was Dream being mugged?

Dream blinked at him, blue eyes bright with surprise. “I… I am alright, yes. Thank you. No danger. Apart from possibly being caught and reprimanded by my employers for sneaking out,” he gave a small smile. “May I sit?” he pointed to a barstool.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Hob said quickly, putting the mug away and clearing the counter of coasters and menus. He had so many questions, but he held himself back. Seeing Dream so distressed felt wrong, somehow, and he didn’t want to cause such a worried look on his face again. “Can I… get you anything? Coffee? Some bread?” He wasn't sure what the proper etiquette was for hosting an impromptu visit from a celebrity. A gorgeous celebrity he had admired for years. Sitting two feet away from him. God have mercy.

“Thank you, but you do not need to prepare anything. I would not like to impose any more than I already have.”

A rumble that suspiciously sounded like it came from Dream’s stomach interrupted before Hob could say anything.

Dream closed his eyes momentarily, his cheekbones going pink, and Hob had to bite back a smile that would have looked impossibly fond.

“Well, I haven’t had lunch yet, and I was just about to make something, anyway. Care to join me?” Hob asked, trying to keep his tone casual. He had no idea what celebrities like Dream liked to eat for lunch, but he had a feeling that Dream didn’t want to be treated like a celebrity right now.

Dream pursed his lips before nodding slowly. “You are kind. I will pay for the meal.”

“Nah, it's fine. I'm the one who offered it. Just wait here, it'll be ready in about 15 minutes. And the pub doesn't open until 2 PM, so no one will see you,” Hob reassured him. He turned to go to the kitchen.

“May I help?”

Hob turned back to see that Dream was standing again.

“I do not feel comfortable doing nothing while you prepare something for me, especially since you would not allow me to pay for it. I wish to help in the kitchen, if that's all right.”

“Oh, um…” Hob suddenly wondered if the kitchen looked neat enough for visitors. They always kept it clean, of course, but the idea of having Dream in it was making him feel a tad self-conscious. “Are you sure?”

Dream nodded. “I know how to cook, and I will not get in the way.”

There it was again. Why did Dream always assume that he would be seen as getting in the way? Hob might have expected the opposite for someone of his status. He pushed down his curiosity and smiled.

“Sure, come on,” Hob waved Dream over to join him in the kitchen.

Dream was quiet and just stood patiently by the counter as Hob prepared the steaks and got the potatoes from the pantry, but he was looking around the kitchen with such curiosity and wonder in his eyes that made Hob smile.

Hob had been working in this kitchen for three years, and he realised he might be taking it for granted. But seeing Dream react to it now—subtle though it was—made Hob see the place again like he did the first time, with pride and appreciation of the fact that he was able to make his dream business a reality.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Hob asked to make conversation as he laid out the ingredients. “Did you come from set?” he nodded to Dream’ tuxedo. Now that he was calmer, he recognized it from the trailer of Dream’s latest movie.

Dream nodded. “There is catering provided for lunch, but I left right after we filmed the last scene.”

“Wait, did you run all the way here?” Hob frowned. “On an empty stomach?”

“It is only four blocks away.”

Hob had no idea they were filming so near his place. But more importantly, “You had breakfast, right?”

Dream blinked. “There was a chocolate chip cookie.”

Hob raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Oh my god. Start chopping these, we gotta get some food in you quick.” He passed the bowl of potatoes over to Dream.

“I assure you, I’m all right,” Dream took the bowl with an amused smile. “It is hardly the first time I had worked for hours without eating.” He began to peel the potatoes.

Hob raised an eyebrow. “You realise that’s worse, right? Is that why you’re so thin?” He put the steaks on the pan and began basting them with butter and seasonings.

Dream’s smile turned fond. “It never seemed to be a problem. My employers actually seem to prefer that I am this slender; they said it is more appealing to the audience.”

Hob suddenly remembered his students at the high school he worked at before, how there was bullying about weight, and how fights and mental breakdowns occurred because of it.

Hob had to bite back a few choice words he wanted to say about those employers. Sure, he had always thought Dream looked beautiful, but he would never choose him being thin over him actually eating properly. And who decided anyway that being thin was the only way to be beautiful?

He let out a breath to calm himself and flipped the steaks in the pan. “Well, you don’t have to worry about any of that here. You’re appealing to me either way,” he winked, trying to lighten the mood.

Dream chuckled and glanced down for a second, and Hob immediately wanted to hear that sound from him again.

“You are kind,” Dream said as he set the potatoes to boil. “Do you always treat your trespassers this way?”

“You’re the only trespasser I’ve encountered so far,” Hob turned off the stove and transferred the steaks onto a plate. “And it’s really no problem, I do run a food business.”

“And yet you will not let me pay for the meal,” Dream arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“You’re helping cook it,” Hob pointed out. “That’s the payment.”

Dream smiled in fond amusement again and didn’t say anything more. He removed his jacket and hung it on a hook before rolling up his sleeves. “I gather that the cheese and seasonings you brought out are for the potatoes? I saw the baked potato option on your menu earlier. I would like to start the process, if you would permit me to use your oven.”

“Um…” Hob was too busy trying not to stare at Dream’s toned forearms to process the words immediately. “Yeah, go ahead.”

So Dream attended to the potatoes while Hob chopped the vegetables to go with it. They worked well together, and Hob was glad to see that Dream visibly became more comfortable around him as they cooked. His shoulders relaxed and his smiles came a bit more easily.

Soon enough, they had placed all their food on one of the tables in the pub. Hob set up the plates and prepared a glass of lemon soda for each of them. He had briefly considered serving wine but he didn’t want to risk Dream getting the wrong idea.

“What time do you need to start preparing to open?” Dream asked as he cut a piece of steak. “I would not want to overstay.”

“We got more than an hour left, don’t worry. And we can cook more food if you’re still hungry after that,” Hob said sincerely.

Dream took a bite of the steak and his face lit up. “You are a good cook. This is perhaps one of the best steaks I have ever tasted.”

Hob chuckled and glanced down, his face warming. “Thanks, but you’re probably just really hungry.”

Dream smiled, then he seemed to realise something. “I don't even know your name yet. I apologise. At first I did not think it would be polite to ask for it after I had trespassed into your property, and afterwards it had slipped my mind.”

“Oh! Yeah, that’s fine, it slipped my mind, too.” Hob smiled and reached out a hand. “Robert Gadling. But my friends call me Hob.”

Dream shook his hand firmly. “A pleasure to meet you, Robert. I’m guessing you already know who I am, based on our conversations earlier,” he said playfully before retracting his hand.

“I do, yeah. And I said my friends call me Hob,” Hob raised an eyebrow.

Dream blinked. “Yes, I understood you.”

Hob just kept staring at him, barely able to suppress a fond smile.

Dream’s eyes widened a fraction. “You… see me as your friend?”

“Yeah? If that’s okay…?” Hob smiled sheepishly.

A soft smile slowly appeared on Dream’s face, and the room became brighter. “It is. In that case, you may call me Morpheus, if you wish. Dream is merely my screenname.”

Hob froze for a second, his fork halfway to his mouth. Did Dream—Morpheus—really just give him his real name? He was a private person, and as far as Hob knew, no one referred to Morpheus by that name, not even hardcore fans on the internet.

Hob snapped his mouth shut and nodded, setting his fork back down. “I’m glad to have you here. Morpheus.” He smiled.

Morpheus opened his mouth to reply, but his eyes grew wide as he looked at something behind Hob.

Hob turned and saw three of his staff coming in through the door. They were having a conversation and laughing, and hadn’t seen either of them yet.

“I must go,” Morpheus said suddenly, standing up.

Hob stood up and grabbed Morpheus’ arm without thinking, then pulled him along behind the bar and back into the kitchen.

“There’s a fire exit through here but… will you be okay?” Hob asked. He didn’t know what Morpheus was running away from, and it didn’t feel like his business to ask.

Morpheus pursed his lips and looked reluctantly at the sign that said FIRE EXIT.

Hob remembered how worried he had seemed earlier, the tension in his shoulders as if he was scared that Hob was going to kick him out.

“You can hide in my flat upstairs,” Hob heard himself say.

“What?” Morpheus said in surprise.

“Just until you feel that it’s safe to leave,” Hob hurriedly added.

“Boss? Are you in here?” Lou’s voice came through the open kitchen door around the corner. “Should we clear your plates?”

Hob met Morpheus’ eyes, and Morpheus nodded quickly.

Hob pulled Morpheus silently out through the fire exit—belatedly realising he had never let go of his arm—and led him up the stairs to his flat.

He fished his keys out of his pocket and quickly opened the door.

“You can stay here for now,” he said as they went in and he closed the door behind them.

He turned around and was suddenly greeted by the state of his living room.

Books and magazines cluttered the coffee table among an empty teacup and sandwich wrappers, the potted plant near the window was turned over on its side, and enough clothes were strewn on the couch to dress a family of four.

“I am so sorry—” Hob hurried to the couch and began gathering items of clothing in his arms. “Took these out of the dryer this morning, been meaning to fold them tonight.”

He carried the bundle of clothes to his room and tossed them unceremoniously on the bed. Then he ran back to the living room and righted the potted plant; he had knocked it over on his way out of the door that morning, and he had been so worried about next month’s rent that he just vaguely made a mental note to straighten things up when he got home.

He went to tidy up the coffee table—

“Hob.”

He instinctively glanced up at the sound of that voice saying his name.

Morpheus had a small smile on his face. “It’s alright. Your home is lovely. You have your work to attend to, and your employees will be wondering why you disappeared halfway through a meal.”

“Right,” Hob nodded and ran a hand through his hair to calm down. “Have a seat, and help yourself to anything in my fridge. I’ll pack up the rest of our lunch and bring it up here.”

“You don’t need to go to such trouble. I’ll be okay just resting here for a while.”

“It’s no trouble, Morpheus. We cooked it so you could eat, right? I’ll be right back.” Hob went out the door before Morpheus could protest further.

***

True to his word, Hob had packed up their lunch and brought it to his home. They finished their meal together and Hob said he told his employees that he had a friend over, hence the dining set up for two people, so Morpheus didn’t have to worry about anyone knowing he was there.

Afterwards, Hob left to help at the pub, but not before quickly scrawling his phone number on the notepad on the counter. “In case you need anything,” he had said.

Morpheus still wasn’t entirely certain why the man was so kind to him, especially after he had broken into his establishment. Hob did not even ask why he was running away, and yet he trusted him enough to leave him alone here in his home.

No matter, he would find a way to repay Robert Gadling for all his help. For now, there were other matters that needed attending.

He sat on Hob’s couch and took his phone out of his pocket, turning it on and bracing himself for the barrage of texts and voicemails that were sure to flood his notifications.

There were several messages of varying politeness asking him where he was and when he was coming back, and a few threats from Mr. Fry saying that if he didn’t come back immediately he would lose his job. Morpheus read all of them with relative indifference, having expected the messages already. He didn’t reply to anyone apart from Matthew.

Morpheus: I am well. I will be coming back on Monday at the studio in time for the photoshoot.

Then he opened the text that he was truly looking forward to seeing.

Blysse: 😯 Really? What happened? They let you take days off?

Morpheus: I will tell you the details when we see each other.

Blysse: ‘Kay! Thank youuu! I’m so excited to see you again! 💞💞💞

Morpheus smiled, he could almost see the twinkle in his sister’s eyes.

Morpheus: I very much look forward to seeing you again as well 🖤🤍

A new notification popped up, and he opened it.

Matthew: You got it, sir. You’re out of the city now, right? Mr. Fry coordinated with the rest of the team and they’re basically combing the area looking for you.

Morpheus sighed. A few people were aware of his reasons for asking Mr. Fry to let him leave for the weekend, but only Matthew seemed to really understand why it was so important to him. Morpheus was glad to have at least one person he could wholeheartedly trust at his work.

Morpheus: Thank you for letting me know, Matthew.

Morpheus put his phone down and leaned his head back against the couch. He might need a bit more help from his new friend.

***

Hob removed his apron and hung it on the hook in the kitchen. Now that his shift was done, he wondered what he should make for dinner. He didn’t want to take any of the ingredients from the pub while there were still customers coming in, and lately he didn’t have the energy to cook for himself so he wasn’t sure what ingredients he still had at his flat. Maybe he would just order takeout again.

He leaned against the counter and checked his phone. Still no texts from Morpheus. Hob had been half-expecting to get a message saying that Morpheus was leaving already, but there was nothing. He couldn’t text Morpheus because he didn’t know his number, and earlier he wasn’t sure if he should ask.

“Boss, don’t forget your jacket,” Merv’s voice made him look up.

“That’s not mine,” Hob said without thinking, seeing Morpheus’ jacket on the hook.

Lou walked by bringing in a tray of dishes to the sink. “Maybe it belongs to his friend from earlier,” she said cheekily.

“Oh, is that friend coming back, then?” Merv asked, with the less-than-subtle implication of Can we meet him?

“I’ll see you all tomorrow,” Hob said good-naturedly and took the jacket before going out the fire exit.

Maybe Morpheus did leave already but just didn’t let him know, that was always possible. He had his jacket, though. Would Morpheus come back for it? Probably not, but Hob wanted to hope he would.

He reached the top of the stairs and tried the handle on his door. Locked. Morpheus really must have left and locked it behind him.

Hob sighed as he took his key out and unlocked it, trying not to be too disappointed.

He stepped into his flat and froze as the smell of something cooking reached him. Then he noticed that his coffee table had been cleared of clutter, the books and magazines neatly stacked beside each other. Even the bits of soil that had spilled from the overturned potted plant earlier were gone now.

In a daze, he closed the door behind him and walked towards the kitchen.

The unwashed dishes that he’d left in the sink this morning were now clean and placed in the drying rack, and he didn’t know what Morpheus was cooking at his stove but it smelled delicious.

Morpheus turned at the sound of his footsteps. “Hob. Good evening. You’re just in time for dinner.” He turned off the stove and transferred the contents of the skillet onto a plate. “I hope you don’t mind. You did say I could help myself to anything in your fridge,” he gave a small smile.

Hob saw that Morpheus had cooked buttered salmon with sautéed cauliflower and roasted peanuts, all lined up on the counter now.

“You cooked for me?” Hob immediately wanted to kick himself after saying the words. Obviously Morpheus had cooked for himself, and Hob just happened to arrive when it was done.

“Yes,” Morpheus nodded. “It’s the least I could do after all your help today. Though if you’ve eaten already it’s alright, I can eat by myself and refrigerate the leftovers.”

“No, I haven’t had dinner yet.” Hob’s mind was still recovering from the whiplash of thinking Morpheus had gone and then seeing him having cooked for the both of them. “Oh, you left your jacket in the pub,” he held it out.

“Ah, that’s right. Thank you.” Morpheus took the jacket from him, causing their fingers to brush, and Hob wondered if the rest of his hand was just as soft.

“Shall I take these plates to the table, then?” Hob asked, a little louder than what was probably necessary.

“Let me help. I shall just hang my jacket on your coat rack.”

They set the table for their dinner, in a manner that was so similar to how they set up lunch just a few hours earlier, and Hob couldn’t help but feel that it was so domestic. How had his day turned out like this?

“You didn’t have to clean up, you know,” Hob said as they ate. “I’d say you didn’t have to cook either, but I’m not complaining about these,” he gestured to the food. The salmon was so soft it nearly melted in his mouth, and the vegetables were crisp.

The corners of Morpheus’ mouth lifted. “It’s alright, I did not have much else to do, anyway. And… I have one more favour to ask of you.” He glanced down, then looked up in hesitation at Hob through his eyelashes.

Hob found himself looking back in anticipation. He didn’t know what he was expecting—or hoping for—but he seemed unable to look away from those blue eyes.

“My assistant had texted me that my employers are actively looking for me; it would be more difficult for me to leave the city now. Would you perhaps be able to help me find accommodations for the night? I am not very familiar with the area, and I would prefer someplace where they would not easily find me.”

“Oh, well…” Hob frowned thoughtfully. He knew several inns that were a short drive away, but he wasn’t sure whether any of them would be inconspicuous enough. “What if…” he tapped his fork nervously on his plate. “What if you stay here? There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom.”

“What?” Morpheus looked taken aback. “You don’t even know why I want to hide from my employers. How could you trust me to sleep under the same roof as you?”

Hob raised an eyebrow. “If you wanted to steal from me for whatever reason, you’ve had hours of opportunity already. If you wanted to harm me, you could have ambushed me when I came in or poisoned this dinner. I have no reason to think you’re dangerous.”

Morpheus blinked, then shook his head fondly. “How do you know I have not poisoned your food? Perhaps it is a slow-acting poison.”

“Just to keep me alive long enough to compliment your cooking?” Hob ate a mouthful of vegetables.

Morpheus chuckled. “I suppose, if I am to stay here, then I must tell you why I am hiding from them.”

Hob shook his head. “No, you don’t have to do that. It’s your personal business, really.” He didn’t want Morpheus to feel like he had to keep paying for his stay.

Morpheus looked thoughtful for a while. “I would like to talk about it. To a friend.” He met Hob’s eyes.

Hob felt a certain warmth in his chest at that look, and he smiled. “Then yeah, I’d love to listen.”

So Hob did. There was a gleam in Morpheus’ eyes while he talked about his two sisters who lived together, one older than him and the other one younger, though he was evidently upset that he wasn’t able to spend more time with them.

“I have no other obligations at work until Monday,” Morpheus added, somewhat defensively, after telling Hob how his bodyguards spotted him before he got too far from the set and chased him for four blocks before he decided to hide in The White Horse in a panic.

Hob leaned back in his chair as he took all that in. He had employees too, but he couldn’t imagine controlling their lives like that.

“Your manager,” Hob said carefully, not wanting to offend Morpheus. “Erasmus Fry? Has he always been like that?”

Morpheus nodded. “Yes. He was also the one who insisted that I have bodyguards. He had said it was for my sake, but as of late I have begun to wonder if he just wanted me to be watched at all times.” His voice had gone a little quieter, but he must have noticed Hob’s worried face because he put on a smile, though his eyes looked tired. “I will bring the plates to the sink.” He stood up and began stacking them.

“Hey, you cooked,” Hob reminded him, carefully taking the small stack of plates. “That means I clean. Feel free to use the shower in the meantime. I’ll lend you some clothes.” At Morpheus’ surprised look, he added. “You really wanna sleep in the same clothes you wore to work and your impromptu jogging?”

Morpheus pursed his lips. “I suppose not. Very well.”

Hob got some grey sweatpants and a brown sweater from his room and handed them to Morpheus, then went ahead and washed the dishes.

It had been quite a long day. When he woke up this morning and decided to spend some time in the pub by himself, he hadn’t been expecting for any of this to happen. It was strange; he knew Morpheus was a celebrity, had watched his movies for years, but when they were spending time together, it was almost like he forgot that Morpheus was an actor. They were just two friends having a meal, talking about their families.

“Where is your laundry area? I would like to wash my clothes.” Morpheus’ voice took him out of his musings.

“Oh, it’s just over…” Hob trailed off after he turned and saw Morpheus.

His damp ruffled hair was sticking up in places and falling across his forehead, giving his face a much softer look.

And then the sweater.

Hob had chosen that sweater to lend him because it was one of his most comfortable ones. He hadn’t considered the fact that because it had always been loose on him, it would be even more so on Morpheus.

Hob could see his collarbones, and the barest glimpse of his shoulders as the wide neckline hung loosely around him. The sleeves reached down to cover half of his hands.

Hob thought for a second that he had swallowed his own tongue. But he cleared his throat and forced himself to speak. “It’s just over there, through that door,” he gestured to the back of the kitchen.

Morpheus nodded. “Thank you.” Then he disappeared to the laundry area.

Hob took a shaky breath and leaned against the sink. He had invited Morpheus to stay the entire night. Wearing his clothes. Looking like that.

God give me strength.

***

“You sure you don’t want the bed?” Hob said as he placed a pillow and blankets on the couch. “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch. I’m the one who suggested you stay here instead of a fancy hotel, after all.”

Morpheus shook his head. “You have already been exceedingly hospitable, Hob. I will not take your bed from you. Thank you for these.”

“No problem, let me know if you need anything else. And um…” Hob shifted on his feet. “Say goodbye to me, before you leave? Just so I know you're alright and you didn't get kidnapped from my flat by your manager or something.”

Morpheus smiled. “Of course, and I will make certain that you will not get in trouble for harbouring a fugitive.”

Hob chuckled. “Alright, then. Good night, Morpheus. It was really nice meeting you.”

“And I thank you for today, Hob. I have enjoyed your company. Good night.”

Hob smiled and headed to his room.

***

Hob had no idea how long he had been staring at the ceiling, his mind too restless for sleep. He had never expected to meet Morpheus Evermoore, let alone befriend him. He was already lucky to have spent as much time with him as he had. And yet, he couldn't help but feel that it was too soon for Morpheus to leave tomorrow.

It wasn't just because Hob enjoyed his company—although he very much did—but also because Morpheus looked like he needed more rest. He seemed tired already after dinner, and given what Hob knew of his less-than-ideal eating habits because of work, Hob wouldn't be surprised if he didn't regularly get proper sleep either.

Hob sighed. He shouldn't get too invested in someone who he might never even see again, even though Morpheus had called him a friend. If Morpheus was so busy that he hardly found time for his little sister whom he clearly adored, then what more for someone he only knew for half a day?

Hob turned over to his side and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep.

It must have worked somehow, because the next thing he knew, sunlight was streaming in through his curtains.

He got up blearily and rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes. He was halfway to his door when he remembered he had a guest.

He immediately went to the living room to check on him, partly because he wasn’t entirely sure that yesterday wasn’t just a dream.

There he was, bundled up under the blanket, hair falling softly across on the pillow.

Hob felt himself smile. Morpheus looked so relaxed, no crease on his forehead as he slept soundly on the couch. Hob wished Morpheus could have more rest days like that.

He quietly went back to his room and got dressed for the day. He knew from checking the kitchen last night that he didn’t have much food anymore, and it was time to buy ingredients. He supposed he could order takeout for their breakfast, but he didn’t think Morpheus got to eat home-cooked meals often, and he could at least cook him some good food before he had to leave today.

The thought of him leaving made Hob’s heart sink, but he pushed down those emotions and just focused on making a mental shopping list.

He went back to the living room, making sure not to wake Morpheus. He got a notepad and pen from the counter and taped a note to the front door.

Went to buy food for breakfast. Be back in a tick.

Hob.

The shop was just around the corner, hopefully he would be back before Morpheus even woke up. He went out the door and locked it behind him, not wanting to leave a sleeping Morpheus to possibly be burgled.

He got to the shop early enough that he was able to buy what he needed without having to deal with crowds or long lines at the register. He checked his watch and was glad to see that he would have time to cook breakfast and eat with Morpheus before he had to go down to the pub.

“Sir! Excuse me!” A woman wearing a grey business jacket with her hair in a bun ran up to him. “Do you live around here? Do you work at The White Horse?”

Hob glanced at the ID hanging around her neck bearing the logo of a local news program. “Did something happen?”

“Some sources say that Dream Evermoore was spotted here early afternoon yesterday. Did you happen to see him? There are rumours that he ran away from set after their last day of filming.” The woman brought out a small notebook and pen.

Hob couldn’t contain the surprised look on his face, so he decided to go along with it. “Oh wow, Dream Evermoore was here? I did hear some people at the pub talking about how they saw someone who looked like him at the bus station. I thought they were just having a laugh, but maybe it was really him, huh?”

The woman nodded as she quickly scribbled down notes. “Bus station. Thank you, sir. Call us if you see him around,” she handed him a card. “We might film an interview in the future.”

Hob took the card and smiled politely.

As the woman walked away, Hob paid more attention to his surroundings. Other reporters and paparazzis were definitely all over the block in disguises of varying subtlety. There were even a few of the uniformed men that Hob saw through the window chasing Morpheus yesterday.

He made his way up the steps to his flat, resisting the urge to run. He unlocked his door and quickly stepped in, locking it again behind him.

“Hob?” Morpheus’ voice sounded concerned. “Are you alright?”

Hob turned to see him on the couch folding the blankets. “Yeah, I’m fine, just…” he opened the curtain a tiny bit and peeked out the window. “Yup, they’re still there. See for yourself.”

Morpheus frowned and went to look through the small gap in the curtain, his arm almost pressing against Hob’s. “I see. My assistant Matthew was correct. I saw his message when I woke up; apparently Mr. Fry believes I am still in the area, and has ordered my guards to look for me. I would not be surprised if he was the one who tipped off the media as well.”

Hob sighed and turned to look at Morpheus. “I’m sorry—” Morpheus’ face was inches away from his. Morpheus was still looking out the window, but Hob’s nose would touch his cheekbone if Hob only leaned a bit forward.

Hob looked down to avert his gaze but then his eyes landed on Morpheus’ bare shoulder, visible because of the sweater that had slipped down even lower. The slope of his neck was more noticeable too, fair and smooth skin all the way down to his collarbones.

Hob quickly stepped away and began walking to the kitchen. “Any chance they won’t be there anymore after we eat breakfast?”

Morpheus followed him and shook his head. “It is unlikely. I would have to find a way to get past them, and then find accommodations where they would not think to look for me.” He leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed, a frown forming between his eyebrows.

Something ached in Hob’s chest at the sight. All the stress that had seeped out of Morpheus since yesterday seemed to be coming back.

“How about— And tell me if you’re uncomfortable with this in any way…” Hob kept his eyes on the slices of bread that he was preparing to toast. “How about you stay here until Sunday morning, and I’ll give you a lift to the next city so you can get to your sister’s birthday?” His hands felt suddenly cold, but he was glad that they were working well enough to spread butter on the bread.

“You would do that for me?” Morpheus said in surprise.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re already here, so…” Hob lets out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, I’m explaining it badly. I just meant…” he looked at Morpheus to hopefully force himself to find the right words, but Morpheus’ soft smile just disarms him further.

“I understand what you mean, Hob. Don’t worry. Admittedly I… I feel comfortable. With you.” He glanced down, his eyelashes catching the light. “Last night was the best sleep I’ve had in a long time, knowing that I didn’t have to worry about anything in the morning.”

Hob just stared and smiled for a few seconds before realising he should say something. “I’m glad to hear that, Morpheus. You’ll always have a safe space here. So, you agree with my plan…?”

Morpheus met his eyes and nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his own lips. “Indeed I do. Although, I might need to buy some clothes.”

“I can go down to the shop later. They’ve got slippers and underwear and soaps, but not really sets of clothes. You can keep borrowing mine, though, if that’s okay…?” Hob asked hesitantly as he put the slices of bread in the toaster.

Morpheus’ eyebrows lifted.

“Or— Or— I can go to the mall down the next block,” Hob stammered. “They’ve got a department store and—”

“Hob.” Morpheus was smiling in amusement, then his expression changed into a more somber one. “I do wish you would not be so nervous around me. Have I done anything to make you feel that way?”

“No, no,” Hob hurriedly said. “It’s just…” he sighed. “I’ve watched all of your movies. I’ve admired you for years. And now I just don’t wanna come across as creepy. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, Morpheus.”

“You have not caused me discomfort in our entire time together, Hob,” Morpheus said, and there seemed to be a hint of sadness in his eyes. “And I suppose I understand better now. Why you are helping me. I thank you for appreciating my work.”

“Woah, wait,” Hob stepped closer to him. “To clarify, I’m not just helping you because you’re a famous actor, okay? You walked into my pub looking scared, of course I wanted to help.”

“I broke into your pub.”

“Because your manager’s practically holding you hostage,” Hob pointed out. “Morpheus, you deserve better than how he’s treating you. And I really hope you get out of that situation when you return to work. There’s gotta be a long line of managers wanting to work for you, right?” Hob hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but as soon as he said out loud that Morpheus had looked scared, it all came rushing out. He didn’t want to think of Morpheus looking like that the entire time he was at work.

Morpheus nodded and gave a small smile. “I did not want to seem ungrateful by replacing him, but you are right. It is time he realises that he cannot control my life nearly as much as he wishes to. Thank you, Hob.” He chuckled. “I did not think I looked quite so frightened yesterday. That must have been unsettling to see from someone who just appeared in your pub.”

“Not really. You also looking devastatingly gorgeous sort of balanced it all out,” Hob said to lighten the mood.

Morpheus looked at him in surprise and didn’t say anything.

“What?” Hob raised an eyebrow. “You have no idea how handsome you look?”

Morpheus blinked. “It is quite flattering to hear from one such as you. I would imagine you have some rather high standards. Considering what you see in the mirror every day.”

Now it was Hob’s turn to gape at him in surprise. Morpheus was looking at him with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and eyes shining with something that dangerously looked like banked intent—

DING!

Hob startled and stepped away. “That’d be the toast,” he blurted out, turning around to carefully place the hot slices of bread on a plate, feeling his face warm. “I’ll just fry some eggs and bacon, and breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Shall I make us some orange juice, then? I saw a juicer in your pantry last night.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Hob said, still keeping his back turned. He wasn’t sure if Morpheus had been joking, but the look in Morpheus’ eyes seemed all too real, and the fire it lit in Hob’s gut was definitely real. And it was all a lot to deal with before coffee. He didn’t want to risk misreading things and doing something stupid.

Fortunately, breakfast went by pretty smoothly. They talked like usual, and Hob felt more relaxed now that Morpheus had said he never felt any discomfort around him. Hob did feel maybe very slightly disappointed that Morpheus hadn’t made any similar remarks or advances like he did earlier, but eventually he managed to brush it off and just decided to enjoy Morpheus’ company while he was still here.

Before he went down to the pub, Hob reminded Morpheus that he had free reign of the kitchen, as well as the telly and any of the books.

Hob ate his lunch at the pub like usual, and packed up some food to bring Morpheus, just in case he hadn’t cooked anything for himself yet.

“Oh, thank you,” Morpheus said when Hob brought him the barbecued lamb with chips on the side. He took the paper bag and frowned. “This is a lot. Have you eaten yet?” he glanced at Hob.

Hob opened his mouth to reply. “No,” he heard himself say. “No, uh, not yet.”

Morpheus smiled. “Then you can share this with me. Come on.” He led the way to the dining table and began setting up the food.

Hob followed, grateful that he didn’t eat a lot for lunch a few minutes ago.

“I’ll be going to the shop later to get your supplies,” Hob said as they ate. “Do you have any allergies to certain soaps?”

Morpheus shook his head. “Anything will do.”

“Any preferences for clothes, then? I can hand them to you before I head out so you can shower if you like.” Hob remembered something. “Oh, you usually wear black and white for your interviews and events. Was that your choice or is it more of a branding thing?”

Morpheus smiled. “It is my choice, yes. I’ve always leaned towards monochromatic colours ever since I was young, and fortunately I was allowed to continue that. They even decided to incorporate it in some of the roles I play, like the mainly blue colour scheme of that prince character two years ago, and the tuxedo in this latest film.”

Hob nodded. “I think I’ve got some black and white clothes you can borrow, yeah.”

Morpheus tilted his head slightly. “You would accommodate even that? You are very kind to me, Hob Gadling.”

“Or maybe you just look really good in those colours and I like seeing you in them,” Hob teased.

Morpheus chuckled. “Then I am fortunate that you look good in any colour, and I am allowed to enjoy the view frequently.”

Hob looked down at his chips to hopefully hide the flush on his cheeks. “Do you have to one-up me everytime?”

Morpheus laughed a bit louder this time, and Hob had to look up again in order to not miss it.

“Oh, speaking of the shop.” Morpheus stood up and got something from the counter before returning to his seat. “I will give you some cash for the supplies. I’d hand you my debit card but my name’s on it and I’d rather not drag you into this whole manhunt for me.” He took a few bills out of his wallet and held them out to Hob.

“No, that’s not necessary,” Hob said, not making a move to take them. “I offered to help, remember?”

Morpheus shook his head. “You are already feeding and housing me for free. Surely I can pay for a few socks?”

“You can, but you don’t have to.”

“Hob Gadling, take these or I will leave.”

Hob was taken aback for a moment, but he narrowed his eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

A smile of amusement appeared on Morpheus’ lips. “Yes, I am. Take the cash, anyway?” He tilted his head slightly to the side and batted his eyelashes.

Hob took the money with a playful huff. “That’s unfair. You’re using your looks to get what you want.”

“Did you not do the same when you asked me to stay here?”

“What? I thought you said it was my kindness that got you to stay!”

“It is several things.”

They both laughed, and their borderline flirty banter came up again a few times throughout the entire meal, and Hob was glad to see that they were both perfectly comfortable with it.

***

“I do not remember why I ever liked this game,” Morpheus said jokingly as Hob’s knight took his bishop.

After they had finished dinner and prepared for bed, he had spotted a small magnetic chessboard among the books on Hob’s shelf. He made a passing remark about how he used to play chess with his two sisters when they were children, but had not had the chance to do so again in recent years.

Hob asked if he wanted to play now, and that was how they ended up on the couch with the chessboard between them. Hob was in a light green shirt and blue sweatpants, while Morpheus was wearing a black shirt with a white-and-grey checkered pyjama bottoms.

“You don’t?” Hob said in an equally playful tone. “Well I’m having a lot of fun for some reason.”

“Could the reason be because you are eviscerating my team with yours?” Morpheus arched an eyebrow.

Hob grinned. “I would have thought you’d be amazing at chess, seeing as it’s monochromatic.”

Morpheus shook his head fondly. “Your mind’s logic continues to fascinate me.”

Hob chuckled and proceeded to be merciless in how he took over the board. Morpheus stared at him at every chance he could. Hob had a certain warmth to him that Morpheus had not seen in anyone else, and everytime he smiled it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

He knew that Hob recognized him when their eyes first met, and Morpheus had just been hoping that he wouldn’t call the police on him for breaking and entering.

When it didn’t seem like Hob was going to do any of the sort, Morpheus expected the usual reactions of people running into him: asking for autographs, selfies, or a blurted out, Oh my god, you’re Dream Evermoore!

But Hob’s first reaction was to ask if he was alright, which admittedly took him off-guard. He told himself it was an understandable reaction if Hob had seen him being chased, but then Hob offered to cook for him, and didn’t ask any questions about his new film even when Hob voiced out recognizing his tuxedo as coming from set.

Hob clarifying this morning about his reasons for helping Morpheus was honestly sweet of him, and Morpheus could not help the remark he had made about Hob being handsome. It was a sincere remark, one that he had worried might have been an overstep based on how Hob seemed to keep his back turned on him afterwards, and so he was relieved when Hob continued such banter during lunch.

Their chess game ended soon enough, with Hob as the unsurprising victor. They put away the board and decided to watch some cooking shows, at Hob’s recommendation. Morpheus had learned to cook for himself as soon as he was living alone for his work, but his skills were nowhere near what the contestants on the show were displaying, and he was fascinated to be learning a lot.

As the evening grew later, Morpheus’ eyelids grew heavier, and he found himself leaning against Hob’s shoulder.

He immediately sat up straight as soon as he realised it. “Sorry,” he rubbed his eyes. “I did not mean to use you as a pillow.”

“I didn’t really mind, you can keep doing that while we watch. Unless you want me to turn off the telly instead?” Hob reached for the remote on the armrest.

Morpheus considered it. “No, I would like to keep watching. You are certain I can lean on you?”

Hob gave a soft smile. “‘Course. Anytime.”

Morpheus lay back on his shoulder, shifting into a more comfortable position. He thought he heard Hob’s breath hitch, but his mind was too sleepy to be sure, and he trusted that Hob would voice out any discomfort if there were any.

The cooking show went on, and Morpheus vaguely remembered wanting to cook some of those dishes for Hob before sleep overtook him.

***

Hob woke up to what sounded like an ad for a vacuum cleaner. He blinked himself awake and squinted in confusion at the telly. He must have fallen asleep on the couch, his muscles stiff from sitting all night.

Then something shifted beside him, and he looked to see that Morpheus was sound asleep on his shoulder.

Hob was tempted to nuzzle into the soft hair tickling his cheek and inhale, but he wouldn’t know how to explain himself if it woke Morpheus.

Another, louder commercial blared from the telly, and Morpheus flinched awake. Hob reached for the remote and lowered the volume.

“Were we here all night?” Morpheus asked sleepily. “Did I keep you here? I’m sorry, you should have woken me,” he stifled a yawn with his hand.

“Nah, I didn’t even realise I’d fallen asleep,” Hob said, which was true. Morpheus snuggling against him kept his heart rate up for a while, but eventually he relaxed into it and apparently fell asleep. He stood up and stretched his stiff muscles a bit. “Breakfast?”

Morpheus nodded. “Please.” He lay back down on the couch and curled up, his eyes closed again.

Hob smiled at the sight before heading to the kitchen.

***

They were lounging on the couch again after their nightly routines, and Hob suggested another game of chess, which Morpheus wrinkled his nose at and politely declined.

Hob flipped through the channels, looking for something they could watch. He didn’t want to go to sleep yet, knowing this would be their last night together. He eventually landed on one that usually streamed reruns of films.

“Oh look, it’s you,” Hob said to Morpheus as the character of The Sandman appeared on the screen. “This was about three years ago, right?”

Morpheus nodded. “The fantasy genre was quite popular at the time, and the writing team suggested I play my namesake from the myths.”

“Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever watched this movie properly. I was just starting the pub when it came out, so I didn’t have time to go to the cinema. One of my buddies held a watch party when it was released for a limited time on streaming sites, but I was only able to stay around for the first half.”

“We could watch it now,” Morpheus offered.

“Really?” Hob said in mild surprise. “It wouldn’t be weird?” 

Morpheus smiled and shook his head. “Not at all, don’t worry. Besides, I rarely get the chance to see my own work for myself. I should like to know if I did any good.”

“I can guarantee that you did good in the first half.”

Morpheus chuckled. He looked so comfortable and at home, leaning back on the couch wearing a black hoodie and white sweatpants. Hob almost just stared at him instead of watching the movie.

Morpheus got up to make some popcorn, insisting that Hob stay on the couch instead of helping him in any way.

And so they watched the movie together with a bowl of fresh popcorn between them and some cans of soda.

“That was not half bad,” Morpheus said as the credits rolled.

“Are you kidding?” Hob turned to him. “It was incredible! I can’t believe I hadn’t seen this sooner.”

Morpheus smiled and glanced down for a moment. “I’m afraid you might be biased, my friend.”

“No way.” Hob put the empty popcorn bowl on the coffee table and brushed off any crumbs from the couch. “It’s one of your most popular films, right? So clearly I’m not the only one who thinks it’s great.”

Morpheus smiled at him. “Thank you. And it was indeed quite fun making it.”

“I bet. And how did you do the voice? Was that like, special effects or something?”

“The voice?” Morpheus tilted his head in confusion.

“The Sandman voice. How was it done?”

“Oh. That was just my voice, there were no special effects necessary.”

“Wow. Can you still do it?”

Morpheus fixed him with a gaze much like The Sandman’s, and Hob could almost imagine his eyes being all black and dotted with stars. “You are asking if I can still speak like The Sandman?”

It instantly dawned on Hob just what he had gotten himself into, and he couldn’t look away as Morpheus practically crawled across the small gap between them on the couch.

“Would you like to know if I can see your daydreams, Hob Gadling?”

Hob felt the armrest behind him and realised he had been leaning back, and now Morpheus was looming over him.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Perhaps we have already met. In your dreams. But men forget in waking hours.” Morpheus’ voice was quiet, his nose almost touching Hob’s.

“Morpheus…” Hob managed. He could feel that his face was flushed, and it was difficult to string together a sentence with Morpheus looking at him with flames behind his eyes, his breath warm on Hob’s face.

Some hesitance appeared on Morpheus’ features, and he pulled back slightly. “Am I causing you discomfort? Tell me and I shall stop.”

“No,” Hob gripped the front of the hoodie, so tightly his knuckles paled. “Don’t,” his voice came out a whisper, and he met Morpheus’ gaze, showing with his eyes what he couldn’t articulate with his words.

Morpheus’ breath hitched, and he descended on Hob, capturing his lips.

Hob’s hands went up to Morpheus’ hair, and he groaned at how impossibly soft it felt. Morpheus put more of his weight against him, and Hob arched into the touch. He angled their mouths to deepen the kiss, and Morpheus welcomed Hob’s tongue with his own.

Hob sighed at the sensation of the heat in Morpheus’ mouth, tasting of buttered popcorn and the comforts of home. Hob could have spent the entire night like that, being pressed into his couch by Morpheus with their tongues gliding against each other.

They parted only enough to catch their breaths, their foreheads pressed together.

“Do you…” Hob’s voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. “Wanna sleep in my bed tonight? We don’t have to do anything, we can literally just sleep. Before I drive you out of the city tomorrow…?”

Morpheus smiled down at him, and any embarrassment that Hob might have felt in that question dissipated in the face of that brightness. “That sounds lovely.”

So they did just that, though they continued to make out for a good long while before literally just sleeping in each other’s arms. Hob had no complaints.

***

“I have a press tour coming up, for the new film. And I will be busy for around two months. But afterwards… might I be able to visit your pub again?” Morpheus asked as they drove out of the mall parking lot.

The crowd of people looking for Morpheus had fortunately lessened enough that they were able to get into Hob’s car and have a quick shopping trip at the department store to buy Morpheus some clothes for his sister’s party.

“Of course,” Hob said, then he remembered something. “But, ah… The pub might not be there anymore at that time, and I might be living somewhere else. But we can definitely still see each other, I’ll text you my new address.”

They had cuddled for a while before breakfast, and shared a few soft kisses after, but neither of them had brought up any labels of sorts for what they might be now, and Hob was happy to know that Morpheus still wanted to see him in the future. Morpheus even gave his number to Hob without Hob having to ask.

“Hold on,” Morpheus frowned. “You’re shutting down The White Horse? Why?”

Hob’s fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel, it was something he avoided discussing even with his other friends, as it made him feel like too much of a failure. “It’s… well, it’s not making enough money. I might not be able to make next month’s rent for the building, and I’d have no choice but to close down the pub and move somewhere cheaper.”

“You brought me food from your pub for three days,” Morpheus sounded horrified. “For free! Hob, why didn’t you say anything? I could have paid for all of those—”

“Hey, hey, now, none of that,” Hob chided him. “Like I said, I offered to help, remember? And calm down, love, it’s not like you’ve driven me to homelessness. I’ve made arrangements with my staff, I’ll be helping them find other jobs before I close down the pub. And I can get back to teaching again while I figure stuff out.”

Morpheus was silent for a while, and Hob’s eyes were on the road so he wasn’t sure what Morpheus looked like, but when he spoke again he was much calmer.

“You told me that it was your dream to own a pub. Am I remembering correctly?”

“Yeah, but, you know…” Hob shrugged, though he felt touched that Morpheus remembered him mentioning that in passing during dinner. “It’s just how it is, sometimes.”

“What seems to be the problem? Your food is excellent, and I like to believe the service is commendable as well.”

“Too much competition,” Hob said, unable to keep the tiredness from his voice. “I mean, I’ll still do what I can, but there’s lots of new restaurants in the area now, and then there’s the mall. It might be better if I just focus on finding new jobs for the staff.”

“So the main issue is visibility, yes? You need to be known by potentially new customers?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ll be working on when I get back home.”

“I see.” Morpheus pulled out his phone and began typing. “I don’t suppose you have any objections if I post on my social media pages that I’ve had a good dining experience at The White Horse and tag its location?”

“What?” Hob looked over in surprise at Morpheus before turning his eyes back on the road again. “Morpheus, you don’t have to do that. You don’t owe me anything, really.”

“I am aware. I simply want to help out a friend. We are… friends, yes?”

There was a hesitation in Morpheus’ voice, and Hob couldn’t tell if it was because he wanted Hob to say that they were more than that, or if he was hoping that Hob would take the hint that they were just friends from now on.

“If that’s what you want,” Hob said and gave him a smile, figuring it was a safe enough answer.

“What I want is to be an investor of The White Horse. Once I get a new manager, they will be in contact with you about the details while I am on the press tour.”

“What?” Hob said incredulously as they stopped at a traffic light. He turned to look at Morpheus. “That’s— Isn’t that too much? You don’t need to do all of that.”

“I have some very fond memories of the place, and I’m afraid I have grown quite attached to it,” Morpheus smiled. “You have my word that I will back out at any point once you feel that it can stand on its own again, and you will remain the sole owner.”

“That’s not even what I’m thinking about! Morpheus, are you sure you really wanna do that? Not just because you feel like you have to return the favour or…?”

Morpheus reached over and placed his hand on Hob’s. “You are dear to me, Hob. That is why I care about your happiness. And I meant what I said about the place holding fond memories for me. Will you allow me to help?” he held up his phone to show Hob what he had planned on posting.

There were a few pictures of The White Horse from the internet, Hob recognized them as the few they had uploaded as ads. And Morpheus had captioned them by saying that the food and service were excellent, and he would definitely come back from time to time.

“You haven’t posted it yet…?”

“I will not do so without your agreement,” Morpheus brushed his thumb across the back of Hob’s hand.

Hob was almost overwhelmed by the absolute care that Morpheus put towards his feelings, and he had to take a breath before he could speak again. He nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Go ahead.”

Morpheus smiled and let go of Hob’s hand as the traffic light changed and they had to move again.

They spent the rest of the short ride in comfortable silence, with Morpheus tapping away on his phone.

A few minutes later, they arrived at what looked like a fancy restaurant, complete with a garden and a fountain in the middle of it.

“Is this the place?” Hob said as they parked.

“Yes,” Morpheus nodded. “We used to go here often as children, and my sister wanted to celebrate her birthday here.”

They got out of the car, and Hob walked Morpheus to the entrance.

“I guess this is it, then?” Hob tried to sound casual, but even he could feel that his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Thank you for everything, Hob Gadling,” Morpheus held his gaze. “Truly, you have been a wonderful companion in our short time together.”

“I could say the same thing about you. I’m glad you chose my place to break into.”

They chuckled, and then there was nothing more to say. They stared at each other, neither one willing to be the first to leave.

Hob steeled his nerves and moved towards Morpheus’ lips—

“Morpheus! You’re really here!”

Hob flinched away and saw a young woman in a beautiful dress run out of the doors to embrace Morpheus.

“Blysse,” Morpheus returned the gesture. “You have grown so tall now. Any more and we would be of the same height.”

Blysse laughed and pulled away from the hug.

“This is my friend, Robert,” Morpheus smiled at him. “He has been very kind to me. I might not have been able to be here without his help.”

“Don’t say that,” Hob returned the smile, then looked at Morpheus’ sister. “Your brother really wanted to be here, I’m sure he would have found a way no matter what.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Robert!” Blysse beamed at him. “Would you like to stay for the party?”

“Oh, really? I’m not sure I’m following the dress code,” he chuckled, looking at the siblings’ formal outfits.

“I have some spare clothes in your car, you can borrow some,” Morpheus said.

“Great!” Blysse smiled. “I’ll see you both inside! I’ll tell Tia you’re here!” she said to Morpheus before running back inside.

“Morpheus,” Hob said uncertainly. “I know you borrowed my clothes, but I’m not sure it could go the other way around.” His shoulders alone are significantly broader.

Morpheus smiled playfully. “I think you’ll find that there is at least one suit in your car that is your exact size.”

Hob looked at him in surprise. “You set me up,” he said accusingly, but he was already smiling.

“Perhaps.” Morpheus’ eyes were twinkling. “And I believe we were interrupted earlier.” He stepped forward and pressed their lips together, his hands holding Hob’s face.

Hob held Morpheus’ waist, their kiss soft and lingering with the barest brush of their tongues.

“Hob,” Morpheus said quietly, still holding Hob’s face. “You have truly been a beautiful presence in my life, and I will not ask you to wait for me—”

“I will,” Hob said, meeting Morpheus’ gaze. “I’ll wait anyway.”

Morpheus looked at him with something like awe before kissing him again. “I think you better get dressed now before we get too distracted to attend the party.”

Hob chuckled. “Good point.”

They got the suit from the car and headed inside to the bathrooms.

“Since I will be an investor for your establishment, it only makes sense that we would be in constant communication with each other.”

“I thought you said your new manager will contact me?” Hob raised an eyebrow playfully.

“They will, but I like to be hands-on about my interests,” Morpheus said pointedly.

They reached the bathrooms and Morpheus stopped just outside.

“You’re not coming in with me?” Hob teased. “I wouldn’t mind you being ‘hands-on’ in there.”

“Believe me when I say that if I go in with you, I will not be helping you put on any clothes,” Morpheus said evenly, a smile playing on his lips.

Hob chuckled and went inside.

He took a good look at the suit for the first time, smiling as he saw the colours.

Monochromatic black and white. He would match with Morpheus. 

---

Notes:

This got away from me in so many places and grew to be about three times longer than I initially thought it would be, so I finished it a bit late 😅 I really like how it turned out, though 🖤

Thank you so much to @patchyegg87 for all the help in brainstorming and beta-reading, and for keeping me motivated throughout this whole thing especially when I was doubting whether I could still finish it~

And thank you all for reading! I hope you liked it! ^_^

Feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments!

---

Part 2 ->

(Dreamling Week Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Let's see if I make it through Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

At Corissa’s insistence, and against your own reticence, you have a taste of nearly every course. The fiery red head gabs animatedly in her work, to her assistants and the servers, and even to you. You feel something very peculiar; you feel included.

That pleasant sensation is as fleeting as the night. The servers bring in the dishes, many untouched, and you clean them attentively, keeping the counters clear of clutter. Corissa mutters about the waste and has the leftovers scraped into containers, promising them to her hardworking staff. She even offers you one but you refuse, you’ve indulged enough. You suspect Mr. Laufeyson would be less than pleased to see you walking out with a to-go box.

You are not requested again to tend to the diners. Voices carry from down the hall and the front door opens and shuts between farewells. Amid the hue, you do not hear Mr. Laufeyson though you try not to listen intently.

Corissa and her staff depart with their work done and you’re left to clean up. It’s near midnight. You’re surprised at how long the gathering lasted and yet, you wouldn’t know what to expect. You’d never attended anything like that. You didn’t even go to your own high school graduation.

There’s a scuff and a shadow darken’s the edge of your vision. You lift your head to find Mr. Laufeyson crossing the threshold, his polished shoes clicking on the tile. You dip your head in acknowledgement and return to stacking the dishes neatly inside the cupboards.

“Do not forget the dining room. My guests proved to be animals,” he scoffs, “though, what use would you be if they didn’t leave you some work?”

You nod again. You close the cupboard door and move to the stemmed crystal. You open the glass cabinet that holds the various liquor vessels. You set each in tidy lines, following the pattern.

You wait for him to leave but he remains. Is he watching you or are you just paranoid? You clasp the door shut and face him, though you’re not intent on him. The dining room. You hope you might finish it quickly. You glance at the clock again.

“Do you recall what I told you at the beginning of the night?” He asks brusquely.

You gulp and part your lips, your words trapped in your chest.

“Speak,” he demands with a flippant flick of his fingers.

“Yes, I do, Mr. Laufeyson–”

“Not a look, not a word,” he retorts.

“Mr. Laufeyson, I didn’t–”

“The blond man. I saw your eyes stray,” he insists, “the worst thing you can ever do is lie to me.”

“I… I apologise, it wasn’t– I didn’t mean to–”

“Ah, enough,” he dismisses your protests, “this isn’t an argument. I am merely reminding you of the rules. I do hate to repeat myself.”

You seal your lips and put your chin down in deference. You made a mistake. You’re wrong, he’s right.

“Now you know. I expect it not to happen again,” he rebukes.

His sole squeaks on the floor as he spins and struts out. You look around, time to move on to the dining room. You tiptoe out and find the hallway empty. You creep down to the dining room and find it similarly abandoned.

You enter and begin your work. You wipe down the table and tidy little bits of food and forgotten napkins. You push in the chairs and remove a broken stem from one of the vases at the centre line of the table.

The clock ticks and heightens your impatience. You have to hurry if you’re going to catch the bus. If you don’t… you don’t know if you can budget a cab.

“There is another thing,” Mr. Laufeyson gives you a start as he appears through the archway, “something forgotten…”

You look at him with confusion stitched into your forehead. He reaches into his jacket and slips out a pinkish slip of paper. It’s folded into quarters with a curl in one corner. You recognise it immediately.

“I assume you didn’t mean to leave it on the floor,” he sneers as he comes closer, holding it between his index and middle fingers, “I almost tossed it but I did peruse it in case… Well, I don’t mean to pry…”

You take it and nearly thank him aloud. You look at the folded invoice and a cringe pinches your cheeks. You didn’t even realise you’d dropped it. You would prefer to forget about it but that would hardly void the debt.

“You look well,” he muses. You flinch; what does he mean? “I did note it was for the same date you were absent however.”

You tuck the invoice into your pocket and fix another chair. He lurks close as you try not to falter. He puts his hand on the next chair to stop you.

“You may speak. Humour my intrigue. You don’t appear very sick.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. It feels as if he’s making some joke you don’t understand. Your lips strain and you stare at his tie.

“My father had an emergency, Mr. Laufeyson. That is all. He is better now.”

“Ah, a loyal daughter,” he remarks, “it is almost endearing.”

You stand in a stalemate. Your eyes drift over to the clock and back to his slender tie. You’re almost done and you’ll have just enough time to get to the stop.

“I suppose you are eager,” he steps in between you and the clock, “to get home to your sick father.”

You clutch the cloth tight and scrunch your lips. Your stomach does somersaults. You want to beg him to let you finish so you can go home. So you’re not stranded but you already made yourself pathetic enough.

“I am not a man without empathy, I would not keep you long. However, I do wish to have a proper conversation,” he declares.

You nod and wring the cloth. You dare to peek at his face and find his attention on your hands. You still them and drop your eyes again. Is he going to fire you? Rather, tell the agency of your misdeeds?

“I would assume you rely on transit. I am in a rather bright mood after my little soiree so I feel of a mind to offer a favour. One which would allow us to converse,” he rolls the button of his jacket between his thumb and index, “I would drive you home and you would listen, yes?”

You nod and he shows his palm.

“Say it.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson. That is very kind.”

“Isn’t it?” He preens and swirls away again, “ten minutes should be sufficient for you to wrap up. I will be at the door.”

“Yes. Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Wonderful,” he strolls out, his unusual glee putting you on guard.

🧹

As promised, Mr. Laufeyson is waiting at the front door. You only realise after checking the back door. You don’t feel good about accepting an unearned favour but the last bus is well and gone.

He opens the door as he sees you enter the foyer. To your surprise, he holds it for you to pass through first. You suppose it's a habit. He is fond of etiquette.

He follows and directs you to a sleek black car in the drive. You wait patiently at the passenger door as he unlocks it and lowers himself into the driver’s seat. It’s only then that you get in, gently closing the door. You put your kit between your feet and click your seat belt into place.

He turns the ignition and the engine hums quietly. It runs so smoothly, you barely feel it. He backs up before steering around the arch of driveway and towards the gate. He reaches to hit a button on the small fob dangling by the rear view and the wider gates split for him to pass through.

You wait for him to begin. He must be basking in your anticipation. Less than eager for what comes next, it's more a needling anxiety. 

“So, let us get down to it,” he begins, one hand on the wheel. The roads are near desolate in the late hour. “I’ve a proposition for you.”

You wait and listen. You assume that’s the deal still. He chuckles and carries on.

“An arrangement convenient for both of us. You see,” he pauses, exhaling as he measures his words, “I am not fond of the agency. I’ve not been for some time, neither have I had the time to search for an alternative. 

“Details are irrelevant. My ex-wife enlisted them for a maid. Just as she employed the gardener and the cook. She might be gone but her handiwork remains, though a very big void as well,” he turns down the next street as you twiddle your fingers, “that is too say, she managed the house and without her, I find myself lacking. I’ve not even the chance to acquire a house manager, but now…”

He lets his suggestion dangle but you’re not quite sure you understand. You hate to presume. Hate to think more of yourself than you should.

“What I’m proposing is that you step into her shoes. In the manner of taking on that management. The gardener, the cook, general maintenance and the like,” he explains, “but of course, you would also keep to your existing tasks, keep the house orderly in all ways.”

You still your hands and stare at your lap. You don’t really believe it. He thinks you capable of all that? Based on what? Some mopping?

“You are rather adept at following orders,” he says, “and you are in need of money, yes?”

You hunch down in shame.

“I will pay more than the agency for I would not take a cut as they do. You will be compensated appropriately for your efforts,” he assures, “as they would lessen mine.”

You look over the dash and at the road ahead. Your father will be home soon, he might need more help, and yet, you most certainly need money. You still have over a month left on probation and even after, you’re not guaranteed full-time hours.

“There would be a starting bonus,” he intones, filling the silence, “fifteen hundred. As an incentive.”

Your eyes burn. That’s what the invoice reads in red. He’s taunting you now. He knows that you need it badly. 

“This offer stands until you leave this car,” he says firmly, “so you may think about it.”

You blanch and keep your eyes forward. You can think all you want but that won’t change anything. There is no other answer. Even if it makes you nervous, even if you find that house stifling, and him terrifying. None of it matters. You need that money as much as your father needs you.

“I accept, Mr. Laufeyson,” you murmur. “I will do my best.”

He hums, a triumphant note, “I expect nothing less.”

🧹

You’re greeted by an empty house. It was too late to even think of going to the hospital. You wouldn’t want to wake your father during his recovery, and besides, his dejection sticks in your head. He told you not to come back.

You go to bed but don’t sleep very much. It’s hard in the lonely house. You want to tell your father that you got a new job. That you’re going to be able to pay for his hospital bills and that you’ll make things better. You will, when he gets home.

What has you just as wakeless is Mr. Laufeyson. He said you could start tomorrow. You’re nervous about that. Your only experience is the last month and a half of cleaning. He might expect more than you can do. Worse, you might not be able to meet those expectations.

You toss and turn, sleeping a few hours just before your alarm. You have your tea and get dressed. You bring your kit, just in case, and head out to catch the bus. You don’t like being in the house alone so you’re all too happy to get out.

You walk the block and a half from the bus stop. You realise as you come to the iron gate that you don’t have the new code. You stand cluelessly, locked out and listless. You notice the small button by the metal speakerbox. Does it work?

You tap the bell and wait. Nothing. You even lean in to listen to the speaker. It’s entirely dead. You try again. Still, nothing.

You lean in and peer through the bars, like a prisoner. The front door opens and Mr. Laufeyson appears, a harried pace with a hint of agitation. He comes to the other side and looks out at you. His eyes scan you from head to toe. He opens the gate from within.

“In, in,” he demands curtly, “are you not supposed to make my life easier?”

You step in and he swings the door shut harshly. He huffs and swiftly outpaces you back towards the door. You hesitate. You never go in that way.

“Do not waste my time,” he orders without looking back.

You jog to catch up with him. You hop up the steps behind his lithe gait and trail him inside. He stops and points to the mat. You leave your shoes on it even as he keeps his own on.

“I’ve a list made up. That is sufficient, yes?”

You nod and he sighs. He’s already moving as you slipping in an effort to keep up.

“Speak,” he drawls.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Very good,” he praises, a lilt of condescension dripping from his lips. “I trust you sent your resignation in. I would be happy to cut ties from that cursed agency at the soonest opportunity.”

You bite your lip. You didn’t even think of that. Your silence is telling.

“Add it to the list,” he says derisively.