#hope your Monday is lovely 💖💖

[themissingmango]

[magistralucis]

@absolut--kurant!

Spangle-cheeked Tanager

javier.chaves.photography

[mcrololo]

im dying to know all the songs on numbers ending in 3 please

wondering what your obsession is with the number 3 on this fine evening. also i will exclude instrumentals and songs i already answered because 3-93 would otherwise be very long shfhs sorry

23. People Are People by Depeche Mode

I'm relying on your common decency So far it hasn't surfaced, but I'm sure it exists It just takes a while to travel from your head to your fists

33. Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode (HOW???? SHFJSJ)

this song has many banger lines, but I think my favorite is this one

Feeling unknown and you're all alone

63. 99 Red Balloons by NENA

honestly i prefer the original, the only reason this one is in here is for character reasons. but these lines scratch a particular rhyming itch:

With orders to identify To clarify and classify

83. Toi + Moi by Grégoire

i love this whole song. i can't choose. please give it a listen and/or look up a translation, it's a song about coming together.

93. Een Teken by Froukje

A fucking masterpiece. leaves me shattered on the floor every time. the whole song 10000/1. but there is one lyric that ALWAYS strikes me down and leaves me as a puddle & a mess at the same time.

Ik wil kapotgaan en niet helen (I want to shatter and not heal)

I'm surprised Een Teken has ranked so low, but that's probably because I can't write to Dutch music.

[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💖

[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. 

[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.

[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!

[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…”

[f1-giuki]

i'm here again. lestappen chussy smut with touch tank by quinnie <3

Caro have I ever asked your hand in marriage? 🥺❤️ FINALLY HERE WITH THE CHUSSY!!! it's been 84 years but I managed to write some chussy action😭 Hope you like this, even if it's long af😭💖 The song choice was amazing and I hope I did it justice!!!!!!!💖💖💖

touch tank - prompt post

-

“Where has Charles gone? This is supposed to be her championship pool party!” George complains, holding his Martini glass tightly in his hands.

Lando rolls his eyes.

“It's her championship party, if she wants to sneak out with someone, it's her right to do so…” Oscar argues.

“That's why we can't see Max!” Carlos snickers, making the others laugh.

“Max? Did she invite Max, of all people? I thought they were mates on track only!” George asks, confused.

“Have you been living under a rock, George?” Oscar asks with a small smile.

“I beg your pardon?” George asks after taking a sip of his drink. Alex, on his side, has to keep a loud laugh from escaping his mouth.

“Mate, they've been dating for the past season, what is wrong with you?” Lando asks, disgusted that he finished his concoction of rum and Capri sun.

“Actually, they're together now, since the competition between them got tighter,” Carlos explains, proudly showcasing his knowledge.

“Since the Tuesday of Brazil, I think, Max asked her before the Sprint,” Oscar points out.

“How the fuck do you know this?” George keeps on asking.

“We have eyes, George…” Alex laughs.

Max and Charles are not far away from the party going on in the garden and adjacent beach of the Dubai villa Charles rented. They're on the roof of the building, where the sunspots are, giggling and sneaking away to have five minutes where they don't have to shake hands, accept congratulations for the championship! and sorry for the championship! or withstand some teasing. Five minutes where they can be freaks in love.

The 2025 season was one for the books, with Charles becoming the first-ever woman to win a Formula 1 world championship and Ferrari winning the title again after 18 years. Italy turned completely red, with people and celebrations filling the streets during the day and fireworks illuminating the night. The dream came true for Charles. Win with Ferrari. Against Max. Her boyfriend. She ticked off every point from her list, except having a moment for herself.

The party on Sunday was crazy and the sex with Max in the bathroom of the club was crazier.

Monday felt like a fever dream littered with soft kisses, with realisation slowly sinking in, as all the journalists left in the Emirates asked her all types of questions. The president of the Italian Republic and the Prince of Monaco also asked her for official events where she could be honoured as a champion by the local institutions.

Tuesday was calmer, in a way. Charles wanted another celebration, with just her friends, so she rented a villa in the morning for the afternoon. Her wish was everybody's command. She's a Ferrari world champion. But the party felt stuffy after a while, and Charles, in her bright red bikini, wanted nothing more than to feel Max's cold lips on her skin, looking at his messy hair and sunburned face, so they disappeared on the rooftop of the villa, where a few sunbeds were waiting for them.

Max doesn't bother closing the door to the rooftop, he's too preoccupied kissing Charles, with her legs wrapped around his waist, and trying not to fall as she keeps rubbing herself on his dick.

Max gently lowers her on the soft towel covering the sunbed and kneels between her legs. Charles Leclerc is a sight to behold, splayed out underneath him, her short and curly hair creating a delicious brown halo around her head. She thinks about all the religious imagery created with her face. If she's the Virgin Mary, then he shall be God. Maybe she shouldn't think about him putting a baby in her. Maybe later.

“No reward for the champion?” She asks, with a sly grin on her lips. The red lipstick she wore has moved all over her lips and on Max's.

Max laughs and rolls his eyes. They can hear laughter coming from two floors down, where the party is still going on. Max blushes a little.

“What? Are you afraid they will find out how good you can eat me out?” Charles asks, slowly undoing the strings of her bikini bottoms on her hips, baring her pussy to him. Shameless. Max loves her too much.

She knows he's salivating at the sight in front of him. He's thirsty, no matter how many times he quenches his thirst at such a source.

She watches him kneel on the ground and pulls her closer to him from her knees. Max feels such a deep hunger inside of him.

Charles moans in anticipation and Max licks a fat stripe over her cunt, making her laugh. The Max show is about to begin.

He leaves kisses all over her pussy, keeping eye contact with Charles. When she throws her head back Max sucks her clit lightly, enjoying how she writhes under him. He starts licking at her folds, savouring and claiming, sucking, as his hands keep her thighs spread. Charles moans and Max laughs, reverberating on her pussy. She fists his short hair, pushing his face closer to her core.

Max moves one hand to her labia, toying with the wetness he finds there as he goes back to her clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. Charles is always so sensitive, so easy for him to take apart. He gently bites her folds and enjoys when she clenches over nothing. He teases her again with kitten licks at her entrance and when she tugs his hair meanly he grins and starts fucking her with his tongue.

Charles moans and the thought of all the people downstairs comes blaring in her brain, making her impossibly wetter. Max, slurping and sucking, is the only one who doesn't make her feel like a maniac. He gets it.

He coats his middle finger in her arousal and starts teasing Charles’ entrance, looking up at her, covered in spit, searching for consent, breaking his rhythm and driving her crazy. She groans and nods and Max slowly replaces his tongue with his finger, moving up to kiss her mons Venus.

As he pumps his finger in and out he places his other hand over her lower belly, claiming the soft skin there. Charles sobs and undoes her bikini bra, playing with her breasts, pinching her nipples and pulling them, moaning louder as Max inserts another finger in her and fucks her.

He looks so good, gentle and devoted, with his baby blue linen shirt open, matching his ice eyes. Charles could come on the spot, thinking just about her lover. So big and safe and brave. She feels like just a girl when she's with him, in the most positive sense. She's just Charles, whether on an F1 track around the world, in an ice cream shop in Italy, or with her tits out in the Emirates afternoon sun. She's not some kind of circus animal with him.

Charles comes, squirting on his face, as he curls his fingers inside her, licking at her cunt and stimulating her clit with his nose.

He licks her clean and she sobs happily. Before it gets to be too much, Max lets her go, sitting next to her. She hugs him from the side and Max holds her with a big and dumb smile, as she inhales his scent, mixed with the salt in the air.

“I love you,” he says, stupidly in love, and she grins, with her forehead against his bicep.

“I love you too,” she says, laughing as Max drags her on his lap, making her sit there gently, lending her back to the sun.

“Oh God, Oscar, mate, you were right! They were fucking on the roof!” George shrieks in the garden, making her and Max laugh.

[tunaababee]

we will be everything we say - a feysand friends-to-lovers AU 💖

masterlist // fic playlist // read on AO3 // overall rating: e // wc this chapter: 2.3k // updates Mondays (aest)

Feyre Archeron has been best friends with Rhysand Sterling ever since she moved onto the same street when they were kids - the two became absolutely joined at the hip, with nothing able to come between them.

As they get older, life gets more complicated and things get harder. Not everything comes as naturally as it once did. People change, things happen, friends... drift.

But after drifting apart, maybe life can push them back together again, in time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

welcome to my very first feysand longfic! this fic is planned to be eight chapters long. while the fic is rated e overall as smut will eventually happen (spoilers i guess lol), this chapter is as clean as it gets haha.

i hope you all like it! as always, big props to my beta reader @climbthemountain2020 who is forever and always my favourite cheerleader!!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Chapter 1: five and six

The sunlight beat down warmly against the soft, plasticky material that covered the entire expanse of the playground. Kids yelling and chatting, scraping knees, throwing balls and playing with toys. Parents murmuring and chuckling amongst themselves, reading books or watching intently. It was a beautiful day for a Sunday in the town of Prythian and it seemed that nobody was going to let it go to waste. The flowers and shrubs that surrounded the edges of the playground were on full display, spring in full bloom around them.

Little Feyre Archeron had mixed feelings about these days. She did love them sometimes, sure - the sun was very nice against her skin, and the flowers around them were very beautiful. The bright and sunny day did make the colours of the playground look bright and enticing... But at the same time, she very much preferred to fill in her colouring book to her heart’s content inside. Feyre didn’t have to worry about losing her favourite crayon colours or pencils in there, nor did she have to share them with anybody but her sisters if they were at home. Nesta and Elain didn’t even really use them that much - it worked out great! However, Feyre did love any excuse for her father to take her and her sisters out for the day, especially when it meant ice cream afterwards. So she sat at a picnic table, a fierce intensity in her little frown, as she tried to make the prettiest Princess Ariel anybody in this playground had ever seen. Elain was busy playing shop with Nesta underneath one of the play structures, Nesta making sure that nobody was trying to cut her younger sister an unfair deal or push her around while their dad kept Nesta in check about being too mean to any of the other kids.

Feyre barely paid attention to her sisters, let alone any of the other kids on the playground. She was going to create a masterpiece.

That is, until, a slight shadow was cast along the bottom of her colouring page, shading Ariel’s feet and preventing Feyre from seeing it properly.

“Hey!” She grumbled, turning around before meeting the gaze of a little boy with a mess of black, slightly curly hair atop his head and deep blue eyes. He was slightly taller, slightly older, but not by much. “Your shadow is getting in the way of my Ariel picture.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He stared down at his feet a little, shuffling to the side and out of the way of Feyre’s colouring book. “Um. Can I sit here too?”

“If you want. But you can’t colour in on this page, this one’s mine! My sister Nesta already coloured another page of mine and it was very rude.” Feyre huffed slightly at the memory before returning attention to her page.

“That’s okay.” He shuffled onto the bench, sitting right up next to her and watching intently with a little amazement in his eyes. “Wow, you’re really good at colouring. It’s all in the lines and everything!”

Feyre couldn’t help but feel a large sense of pride swell in her chest at that - nobody ever paid attention to how much care she put into her colouring in. It was her favourite thing to do, and she wanted to draw pictures just as pretty as the ones she would colour in when she got older. She gave the boy a big, toothy grin.

“Thank you! I’m almost done, I just need to finish her shoes. You can colour the next one with me if you want. You just need to be careful with the crayons, they’re my special ones.” She looked back down at her page with the same intensity as before, but with a little more excitement about her as she scrambled to finish the picture so she could partake in the next with her new buddy.

“I will, I promise! My name is Rhysand, but I like to be called Rhys. I’m six!” He held his little hand out with enthusiasm, his skin a warm golden brown and a face full of hope. “Maybe we can be friends!”

Feyre paused a moment, taking care to place her colouring implements delicately on the page before taking his hand and shaking it up and down furiously. Just like all the serious grown-ups do, right? “My name’s Feyre, I’m five so I’m nearly as big as you. I’d really like to be friends with you - I haven’t been here very long, so I don’t know anybody else yet. My mommy and daddy said we had to come here for daddy’s work.”

She let go of his hand to put the last touches on Ariel’s shoes, taking a triumphant look at it before turning the page. A stark black and white depiction of Aladdin and Princess Jasmine - him in his normal outfit and Jasmine in her princess outfit, of course. Rhys let out a little gasp of excitement, searching excitedly through Feyre’s crayons before pulling out a purple one. “Oh, Aladdin is my favourite! He looks just like me!”

“Aladdin is pretty cool. I think Jasmine’s clothes are sooooo pretty, and she even gets to have a pet tiger! She’s really brave.”

They both set to colouring in, Feyre taking her time and trying her best to impress her new friend even further with her awesome colouring skills. Rhys wasn’t as great at staying in the lines as her, but that was okay. They were having fun together, and Feyre felt a little less alone than she had when they had first arrived at the park. She loved Elain and Nesta, but they always stuck together and it could make her feel a little left out. But Rhys? Rhys was her friend. She hoped they could stick together just like her sisters did, too.

The two chattered away incessantly as they coloured, even moving to do their own little drawings all around Aladdin and Jasmine and trying to make a silly story out of the whole thing. Rhys said that he knew a lot of kids, but not many of them really talked to or played with him very much. His dad was really busy, but his mom always did her best to make him feel special. They went out together a lot, and it was always the favourite part of his day. Feyre told him how her sisters were 7 and 8 years old and they always thought she was a bit too little to play a lot of their games with her, which was SO unfair because she’s a big kid too! She talked of how her dad liked to treat them to ice cream after their park adventures, and how her mom never, ever really liked taking them and always seemed to be a bit cranky, but that was okay. We can’t be happy all the time - she knew that from when she couldn’t get her drawings to look just like how she wanted them to or when her and her sisters were playing Barbies and it wasn’t going how Feyre thought it should. Why can’t her Barbie have cool superpowers AND live in the dreamhouse?

It definitely made Feyre feel more than justified when Rhys wholeheartedly agreed with her.

Soon enough though, the peak sunlight of the day had started to wane a little, beginning to hide behind the few clouds that decided to rear their heads in the sky. Her dad began to walk over to her, Nesta and Elain holding each of his hands. Nesta, unsurprisingly, looked a bit cross while Elain was jumping for joy.

“Feyre, honey, it’s time for us to go so we can get some ice cream. Come on, pack up your book and your crayons so we can take them home.”

Feyre pouted furiously at her father, bottom lip getting slightly wobbly as she crossed her arms.

“But I don’t wanna go yet! I wanna stay with my friend!”

“Your friend might have to go home soon, too. We should let him get back to his parents.” Her father looked exhausted, already tired of this fight and wanting to simply take them back into their regular routine.

“I don’t wanna! He won’t have anyone else to play with!”

“Feyre, honey-”

“Rhys? Rhys, baby, where’d you go?” A woman with hair as pitch black as Rhysand’s came walking over with a smile across her face as her son waved at her from the other side of the park. There was no way this could be anybody but his mother, and she seemed so kind and warm in her demeanour right from the start.

“Mama! I made a new friend! This is Feyre!” He went bounding over to her without a second thought, babbling excitedly to her about everything they had talked about earlier. His mother had kneeled down to be eye level with him, before turning her gaze on Feyre with that same warm smile.

“Really? Well, it’s lovely to meet you Feyre.”

“...N-Nice to meet you.” She was a little shy around grown-ups she didn’t know, but if it was Rhys’ mother, Feyre could will herself to be brave. Feyre’s dad waved at Rhys’ mother, reaching a hand out to make introductions.

“Hey there. I’m Gerald, Feyre’s dad.”

“Rebecca, I’m Rhysand’s mom. Nice to meet you.”

Feyre’s dad gave her a polite, if not slightly strained, smile before trying to urge Feyre to come with him despite his full hands and her open defiance.

“Come on Feyre, if you don’t use your listening ears, we won’t get any ice cream.”

“But can’t Rhys come? He’s my friend! He should get ice cream too!” Feyre pointed at her friend with a stubbornness that ran through the Archeron women that wouldn’t be diluted, even in childhood. Rebecca couldn’t help but look at Feyre with a softness in her eyes, glad that her son was finally starting to make friends.

“We don’t get to choose that for him, baby. Come on-”

“Oh, I think we might have some time to go for ice cream. What do you think, Rhys?” She grabbed Rhys’ hand as he pumped a little fist in the air, Feyre beaming at him before she took that free hand with gusto.

Feyre’s dad mouthed a ‘thank you’ at Rebecca, her giving a wave in a universal indication of ‘no problem’. The group of six took up the entirety of the pathway, the two parents hanging back a little bit to chat whilst the four rambunctious kids led the way. Rhys led the charge, knowing the way to the ice cream parlour like the back of his hand while he and Feyre swung their hands together between them. The two avoided cracks in the pavement, nearly falling over each other several times, but the air was filled with laughter and probably the most talking Feyre had ever done since they had moved to Prythian in the first place. After a few careful reminders not to cross the road without their adults, to look both ways and to not be silly as they crossed the few stretches of road that laid between them and the ice cream parlour, they arrived at their destination. The minute they were inside, Feyre practically pressed her face against the glass of the service counter to look at all the flavours they had.

“What flavour are you gonna get?” Rhys mumbled to her, staring with just as much want and hunger in his eyes at the gallons of ice cream before them.

“Choc mint. That one’s my favourite. What about you?”

“Choc mint is okay, but I like boysenberry the most. It even has all the cool swirlies in it!” He pointed excitedly through the glass, Feyre making a small face.

“Mm. That’s a good choice. It’s really pretty.” Feyre pulled away from the glass to lightly tap at her father’s arm, relaying her order as Rhys did the same with his mom before they all sat down at the biggest booth they had available.

“Since you two walked to the ice cream parlour with us, are you just parked here or do you live nearby?” Gerald asked Rebecca, the kids too busy waiting impatiently for their orders to be delivered to their table to pay attention to what they were talking about.

“We’re not too far from here, just a block or two over on Orion Avenue.”

“Ah, same street as us then.” Feyre’s ears perked up at that.

“Oh, you’re the ones who moved into number 31 then? We’re a few doors down at 25.” Rebecca mussed up Rhys’ hair with a grin, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as the two ever-excitable children looked at each other.

“You’re at number 31! That means we’re almost neighbours! We can play all the time!”

“I can show you all my cool toys!”

“I can show you all my toys too! This is so awesome! Mama, can I go play at Feyre’s one day?” Rhys’ little face was full of wonder as he looked up at his mother, practically pleading with her.

“One day, yeah! But her parents have to say yes, too. I think after we have our ice cream we’ve all had enough adventure for one day, though.”

As if she had spoken it into existence, the heaped cups of ice cream were placed in front of everyone and they didn’t hesitate to dig in.

After ice cream, the group proceeded to walk home together in the reddened rays of a setting sun on a beautiful afternoon, the two fast friends holding hands the whole way home. Before they had to go their separate ways though, Feyre and Rhys shared a tight hug.

“You’re my best friend now, so we have to play together all the time, okay?” Feyre whispered to him, like it was a secret just for the two of them.

“Okay! I’ll see you later, Feyre!”

Rhys and Feyre waved at each other before walking into their homes, not knowing that in that moment they’d found a soft place to land in one another for years to come.

[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

[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

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[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.