#sweet reserved guys with the little girls who melt their hearts

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

The Guardian, Chapter 4

In which we finally get a look inside Mildrithe’s head and what she’s thinking/feeling about her new elf friend. As a reminder, Haldir and Mildrithe have just arrived at the closest warden post, where he intends to deliver her to the capable hands of someone else who can get her the rest of the way to Caras Galadhon for help while he goes back to his post to resume his duties. Except he’s not feeling great about that plan anymore. Parts one, two and three are available if you want to catch up. And, because I will use it until the end of time, here is the beloved official artwork of this story, courtesy of the many talents of @brigwife

*****

Mildrithe followed Haldir up a thin rope ladder and into yet another tree. Before the last few days, she would have found this odd, but he seemed to consider trees a perfectly natural place to spend time. And she didn’t mind. Nothing had ever hurt her while in a tree, and she couldn’t say the same for being on the ground.

Like the tall beech where the two of them had spent the previous night, this tree also had a shelter built into its boughs, but the two structures couldn’t have been more different. While last night’s dwelling place was a stark, bare platform, this one had multiple levels spaced throughout the branches, and each contained stores of food and weapons, bedrolls, blankets, water cisterns and other accessories of daily living. And most significantly, this platform had other people on it–people who looked much like Haldir, tall and strong with golden or white-blonde hair and pointed ears. Ellath, he had called them.

Her arrival on the platform drew a lot of interest, and she shrank a little from all the eyes suddenly on her. Haldir spoke rapidly to these ellath, and she guessed from the sound of her own name that he was explaining to them who she was and how she came to be there, though there was much that he still didn’t know, that she kept locked away in the back corners of her own mind. But his words took the attention off of her, and she used the moment to surreptitiously observe his companions.

Rúmil she had met, and he seemed to be closest to Haldir both in appearance and in manner, but there were six others who crowded around as he spoke. She had the distinct sense that Haldir was in charge–the others showed clear deference to him–and she wondered for a moment if he was the king of his people. But, then, he didn’t act like any king she had heard of, not when he spent his time wandering alone in a forest, climbing in and out of trees and eating only whatever small scraps of food he carried on him.

Her eyes swept back over the new faces. She found them all fascinating to look at, both so similar to the men she knew and yet also undefinably different, and she was staring intently when the words of her mother suddenly rang in her ears. “No one likes to be gawked at, Mildrithe.” The memory of that admonishment sent both a hot blush to her cheeks and a wrenching pain to her chest. She worked so hard not to have those memories, but still they came, unbidden, to remind her of her old life. She sniffled a little in an attempt to keep control of herself, and though he didn’t look down or break from the conversation he was having, Haldir heard the sniffle and his hand found hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

After a lengthy discussion, the group dispersed, each member going on to some specific task. Rúmil brought her water and food–fresh fruit, honeycomb and nuts–which she accepted eagerly, having gone days with no food at all and then being confined only to what Haldir had available in his small pack. She dug in with enthusiasm, making a bit of a mess with the sticky honey, and for a time she thought of nothing but sating her own hunger. Halfway through her rations, however, the words of her mother once again sprang unexpectedly to her mind –“what’s ours is ours to share”—and the sting of remembrance did not stop her from turning obediently to look for Haldir, to ensure he had food of his own. He sat alone a short distance away, looking sorrowfully at a small white flower that he turned between his fingers. She recognized it right away as the niphredil flower she had given him the day before, and the unhappiness of his expression sent a warning chill through her. Something was wrong, but she had no idea what it could be.

As she picked at the remains of her food and tried not to brood on the meaning behind his sadness, the other wardens around him were busy stocking several packs in preparation for some kind of departure. Eventually a pack was handed to her, and she looked inside to find her own water canteen, some wrapped food, and a blanket. Any notion that they were going to stay here at this strange little tree camp faded quickly from her mind, and she was not surprised when Haldir and Rúmil gestured for her to follow them back to the ground just a few minutes later.

Rúmil and two others hoisted packs to their shoulders, and Haldir helped to secure hers to her back with several straps. She accepted the help but watched with rising concern as he made no move to lift his own pack or join the little group of travelers. The food she had just eaten suddenly felt like lead in her stomach, and she stared into the deep blue of his eyes, trying to force some kind of sign or acknowledgment that would quiet her fears and assure her that she was drawing the wrong conclusions from the activity around her. Instead, he looked away, and her concern edged toward panic.

When the others seemed ready to leave at last, a few final words were exchanged between Haldir and Rúmil, and then Haldir knelt down in front of her. He opened his mouth as though to speak but thought better of it and took her hand instead, holding it between both of his. When he released his grip, the niphredil blossom sat in her palm. He turned away quickly, rubbing a hand roughly across his chin, and went to stand by the ladder, looking down at the ground as Rúmil lightly gripped her elbow and tugged her into motion.

She staggered forward in unthinking compliance, but each time a foot struck the ground a voice in her head screamed at her to stop. Not to move even a single step further away from the one person she trusted. Tears welled up in her eyes and started to slide down her cheeks, and by the tenth step the voice in her head was so loud that she clutched at her own ears. It made no sense, even in her own mind, to be so attached to him already, but the feeling was undeniably there. He had shown her true kindness, the first person in her life for many months who didn’t want to scare her or hurt her or use her. He was awkward, but he was gentle. Her heart told her that he was safe. That he was good. And she absolutely didn’t want to be parted from him now in order to go on with total strangers.

She looked back over her shoulder in desperation, and when her eyes met Haldir's, a sob ripped through her. Her view of him blurred through her tears and she whimpered his name, but always she felt Rúmil’s hand on her arm, pulling her onward.

“Daro!”

The word exploded from Haldir’s lips and echoed in the trees. Rúmil dropped her elbow and came to a halt, and she used the freed arm to wipe a sleeve across her eyes. With some tears cleared away, she could see Haldir rushing forward, his pack in his hand. He spoke urgently to Rúmil, pointing both back in the direction they had come and forward in the direction they were headed. Rúmil interjected a few times, but before long he raised his hands in a gesture of concession and turned to head back to the tree camp. The other two wardens in the traveling group, Esgalorn and Mirdanion, exchanged looks with one another, brows raised. But neither said anything, and Haldir ignored them. He used the corner of his cloak to wipe the remaining tears from her face, took her hand, and started walking.

The immensity of her relief brought a whole new energy to her spirit. She felt that she could have easily sprinted the entire distance to wherever they were going, though, in fact, she had no idea where that was or how long it would take. But she hustled along at his side anyway, and whenever he glanced down at her, she beamed at him, eager to show just how glad she was to be with him. He always smiled back, but once his eyes were looking forward again the smile would fade. Something still seemed to weigh on his mind, and she reasoned that he was probably worrying about what would happen next, once they arrived wherever they were headed. She had been that way once, too—thinking about the future, making plans, trying to anticipate later problems or griefs—but not anymore. If the last year had taught her anything, it was that the future couldn’t be counted on. All she had was the present and how she felt in the here and now. And right now, at his side, was good. She wished she could tell him that.

The four of them traveled on for the rest of the day, Haldir and Mildrithe together in front and Mirdanion and Esgalorn following behind, keeping up a steady patter of conversation between them. The sound of their words faded into background noise to Mildrithe, and she focused only on what was immediately in front of her. She hopped in and out of the dappled shadows cast on the ground by the swaying, leafy branches above and tracked the sun as it worked its way across the sky. Eventually twilight settled on the forest, the first bright stars appearing in the purplish-blue overhead, and Mildrithe had just begun to wonder whether they were going to spend the night at another makeshift camp when Haldir pointed to faint, twinkling lights on the horizon. Some large city or settlement lay ahead, just across a narrow moat and behind a large, circular wall of green earth. They soon picked up a path that skirted along the wall and at last reached a set of great silver gates. Inside was a city unlike anything Mildrithe had ever imagined.

Caras Galadhon was filled with immense golden-leaved trees, each with a silvery smooth trunk, and the entire city was built into their canopy. White ladders led into many of the trees while others had wooden staircases that wound around the trunks and up into the highest boughs. Lanterns bobbed in the branches, throwing out little golden halos of light, and in this glow could be seen people moving to and fro—tall, graceful people, more of the ellath that Mildrithe was now growing used to seeing. But even as elves were becoming a normal presence in her life, their city took her breath away, and she stopped in her tracks to gape about her. Her mind rushed to catalog beautiful details, to automatically store them away so that she could later describe even a fraction of the magic of this place to her unbelieving family back home, and only the painfully sharp self-correction that she would never have that chance was enough to break the spell of her awe and amazement. She dug her fingernails into her palm, pushing until the stinging in her hand drew her mind away from the feelings and memories that had begun to seep back into her thoughts, and then she hurried after Haldir toward a hill where the largest tree she had ever seen sat like a crown atop the slope.

Someone dressed all in white came down a set of stairs from the tree, moving so smoothly and calmly he almost appeared to float. Esgalorn and Mirdanion bowed, and she noted that even Haldir gave this new figure deep respect. He was clearly someone of importance in the city, perhaps their leader, and so when Haldir gestured for her to come forward, she also bowed. This seemed to amuse the leader, and she hoped that was a good sign, an indication that she would be viewed with favor. He bent down and took a long, slow look at her, and though the scrutiny made her uncomfortable, she didn’t feel that his eyes had any hostility in them. He seemed rather to be gathering information, able to discern far more about her from just his penetrating gaze than she could ever determine from merely looking back at him. She shifted nervously on her feet until he stood at last and turned back to Haldir. A short, low conversation between them followed, and when some point of agreement seemed to be reached, he nodded to Haldir and to her before reascending the stairs, gliding off out of sight.

Hadir dismissed Esgalorn and Mirdanion, who turned off in another direction, and then led Mildrithe down a series of curved paths away from the center of the city. It had by now grown dark, but the pathways and trees were well lit and Haldir seemed certain of his route. She assumed they were headed to a place where they could rest for the night, and their surroundings did get quieter and less crowded as they went. At last, he stopped at the foot of a curved staircase that led up into yet another tree dwelling. He patted a hand against his chest and pointed up the stairs, repeating the gesture several times until he seemed confident that she understood. “Mine,” was her interpretation, and as she followed him up the stairs, she felt a wave of excited curiosity at the idea of seeing his home, the private space where he would be most himself.

The sound of her little boots clomping on the stair treads reverberated in the trees, and soon a curious face appeared at a railing above, drawn by the unexpected noise. A woman peered down at them, and when she saw Haldir on the landing she gave a small gasp and began to run toward him, holding up the hem of her dress so that she could race down the stairs at maximum speed. She had the same elegant beauty and pointed ears as everyone else in the city, though her hair and eyes were both a rich dark brown, and her face was lit up by a wide, brilliant smile. Haldir dropped his pack in just enough time to catch her as she threw herself into his arms, and he spun her around, laughing and smiling with a joyful ease that Mildrithe had never seen from him. She watched their affectionate reunion with unabashed fascination, and her questions about who this woman could be were soon answered when they shared a deep, loving kiss. An inadvertent giggle popped out of Mildrithe’s mouth at the sight of that kiss, and the couple quickly separated, blushing but still smiling at one another.

Haldir rushed through a bunch of words, gesturing repeatedly at Mildrithe, who stood up extra straight and smoothed a hand quickly over her hair and down the front of her dress. If this woman was important to Haldir, then she was important to Mildrithe, and she wanted to make the best possible first impression. At last, he spoke Mildrithe’s name and then pointed to the woman. “Idhrien,” he said slowly and clearly, a hand on his wife’s arm. Mildrithe smiled at her and proudly repeated the words of greeting she had heard at the forest post. “Mae govannen, Idhrien.”

Idhrien stooped down in front of her until she was at Mildrithe’s eye level, and returned the smile. “Westu Mildrithe hal,” she said, and Mildrithe’s heart cracked open in her chest.

She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she had heard her own language, since she had even that most basic comfort of being able to understand what was being said around her and about her. Over time, her awareness of the loss had dulled, but just to hear those few short words now brought back a feeling of warmth and familiarity that she had desperately missed. She would have wept with gratitude if she wasn’t also so eager to speak and to listen now that she finally could.

“How…how do you know those words?”

“My brother was a great lover of languages,” said Idhrien, “and he spent a fair amount of time traveling in your land and learning what he could. He then taught it to me so that he would have someone to practice with when he was home in Lórien.”

“Lórien?”

“That’s where you are. Haldir found you on our borders and brought you here to our chief city. He tells me that you’ve made a very long journey and that you’ve been a very brave girl. He’s proud of you.”

Mildrithe blushed with pleasure at the compliment and looked up at him, watching attentively from his wife’s side. “I want to thank him, but I don’t know how.”

Idhrien smiled again. “Don’t worry. He already knows.”

She stood and gestured for Mildrithe to follow, and they went the rest of the way up the stairs. Once inside their home, they gave her more food and water and a comfortable place to sit with soft cushions and a warm blanket. Idhrien offered her the chance to rest or to take a bath, but there was nothing Mildrithe wanted to do more than to talk—or, more precisely, to ask questions. She had a steady stream of them, about Lórien and elves, about living in a tree, about Haldir and what a marchwarden does, and Idhrien patiently answered them all, taking time to translate for Haldir as she went.

These were all things Mildrithe wanted to know, but they were also safe questions, about other things and other people. She studiously avoided any question about what might be planned for her—where she would go, who she would be with—because she wasn’t at all sure she would like the answer. But eventually, Idhrien seemed to notice the evasion, and she gently curtailed Mildrithe’s questions with one of her own.

“Would you like to know what’s going to happen now that you’re here?”

Mildrithe hugged a pillow to her chest, torn about how to answer. She didn’t want to say yes, but neither did she think she could say no. She settled instead on a vague, non-committal hummed noise.

“Right now, you’ll stay here with us until the Lord and Lady decide what’s to be done. You have nothing to fear from them; they’re good and kind people. Haldir has told Lord Celeborn what he knows, but they will surely have more questions about where you’re from and where you belong. Can you tell us about your home? Your family?”

Mildrithe’s initial joy at being allowed to stay with Haldir and Idhrien was replaced immediately by a heavy anxiety that flooded into her chest. To even think about her home and family was to break her own cardinal rule, and to talk about them with others—to say the words out loud and thereby make those words real—was unthinkable. Her little face grew hot, and she bunched up her skirt in her fists.

“Mildrithe? Are you alright?”

Idhrien was looking at her with real concern, but that only intensified Mildrithe’s distress. The last thing she wanted to do was to disappoint or upset them, but she had never told this story to anyone else. And she was terrified to do it now.

Haldir reached across to take Mildrithe’s hand, and he spoke to her directly for several moments. When he was done, he nodded at Idhrien.

“He says that he understands that you’re afraid, but he promises to keep you safe. He was honored to have your trust when you were together in the forest, and he hopes that you will honor him again by continuing to trust him now.”

Mildrithe looked from his hand up to his steady, calm eyes. The same eyes that had found her when she was lost. Watched over her while she slept. Noticed when she was hungry or thirsty or in pain. He had protected her at every turn, and he had offered her comfort and affection when even she could recognize that it wasn’t always easy for him to show his feelings. A realization slowly dawned on her–if she couldn’t share this pain with someone like him, someone who had shown her so much care, then she might never be able to share it with anyone. And the prospect of carrying it alone, perhaps for all the days of her life, suddenly felt much more terrifying than facing it together with him now.

She stood and inched hesitantly toward him, and he understood her intention right away, lifting her up to sit on his lap. She leaned her cheek against his chest, and for a time all three of them sat in silence, with only their quiet breathing and the soft beating of Haldir’s heart in her ear. And just when he began to wonder whether she had perhaps drifted off to sleep, she opened her mouth and began her story.

*****

Notes: “Daro” means “stop”/“halt”.

Idhrien (which means “thoughtful”) started life as a reader character in my Haldir story Three Weeks on the Nimrodel. She’s the same person here, just with a name. She’s a city warden in Caras Galadhon, though she and Haldir met and fell in love when she was posted temporarily to the border and found a way past his natural reserve and introversion by respecting it and making him feel at ease as himself. Even in that story, she had a brother that traveled in Rohan and taught her Rohirric, so that worked out well here, too!

I don’t have a super clear idea of where the next chapter is going, so it may take me a while. Just FYI.

#lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien #haldir #mildrithe #sweet reserved guys with the little girls who melt their hearts

[kairiscorner]

Hello! Do you mind writing a hobie x reader where they’re both babysitting mayday for Peter and hobie seeing the reader play with mayday gives him major baby fever? Sorry if you already wrote something like this 😭😭

HIII ANON !! i don't mind, i've actually been meaning to make content like this but just now got the oomph to do it :DD here ya go, hope ya like it <33

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

big brother hobie's here — hobie brown x reader

hobie came into the room looking for you, when he happened upon you in the small playroom reserved for mayday, he didn't dare approach you; he was entranced by how sweet you were while playing with mayday. he sat back on a chair without you realizing as he smiled to himself at how gentle your voice was as you played along with her a little game of peek-a-boo, and how bright your smile was as you pretended to disappear before the redheaded young girl's eyes and reappear by showing her your face the was filled with love and adoration for the infant.

hobie took out the small camcorder he made and chuckled lightly and sighed in adoration as he watched you two play. hobie absolutely loved mayday, and he loved you of course, it was a given–but seeing you both play and giggle together happily... it made hobie's heart melt. "hey, loves, what are you two up to?" he asked as he reached his hand out for mayday as he kept recording. you smiled and jokingly placed your hand in front of the camera. "just playing peek-a-boo." you said as mayday pat hobie's palm with her own tiny hands. "ooh, well, how 'bout we play a round of patty cake for a change?" he offered as mayday smiled up at hobie. you were onboard with it, and soon, you three were playing patty cake, with hobie only playing with one hand expertly.

"hobie, you gotta play with both hands, that's the rule." you said as hobie chuckled loudly as mayday followed him with her own peals of giggles. "screw the rules." hobie uttered, with mayday trying to repeat what he said. "scoo da woos!" "a little anarchist in the making, i'm damn proud!" hobie exclaimed as you shushed both of them for their language. hobie soon stopped playing patty cake mid-game to tickle mayday, with her erupting in small giggles. you then joined hobie to tickle mayday, with him putting the camcorder down and now tickling you. you tickled him back as all of you laughed and giggled throughout the tickle fight. mayday soon fell sleepy, and hobie scooped her up to take her to her crib. you noticed the camcorder was still filming, though you didn't want to end the recording right here and now when such a sweet moment was unfolding. you carried the camera with you and filmed you and hobie taking mayday to the crib and with him crooning her to sleep.

"sweet dreams, little rebel." he whispered to her as the infant smiled in her sleep. you closed the camcorder as you accompanied hobie who was sitting right next to the crib, watching over mayday as she slept. "no wonder you're peter's number one babysitter." you teased as you looked through the photos and videos hobie took of you guys taking care of mayday. he chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close to him. "she's a darling, and she's got so much potential in the future. i want nothing but the best for her. and give yourself a little credit, too, okay? i don't babysit her alone, i've got you, love." he said as you smiled at him, with him reciprocating it with a smirk of his own.

as mayday babbled in her sleep, hobie found himself smiling wider as he hoped she was having good dreams. he held you close as he listened and watched the young girl take a nap and getting ready to play with and entertain her the moment she woke up again. hobie couldn't deny it any longer, he was an absolute sucker for the little anarchist, and he was just so damn happy to take care of her with you.

tags !! @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @fiannee @arachnoia

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #spider punk #atsv #atsv imagines #atsv fluff #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

[jjongslutz]

https://x.com/g_md_ri/status/1732039176810598622?s=46&t=2pfgV1Et_rAi2rt9FOuB4g

I’m sorry but he’s so seems cold and reserved cool guy on campus who secretly has a heart of gold. always melts when he sees his princess (you) and loves spending time with you and in between your thighs 🥹❣️

HE DOES ☹️

the rich heir, son of the CEO of the top company in the country; everyone either wants to be him or be with him, but he pays them no mind always burying himself in his studies - he only has a few friends, too, all with connections through their parents which really reinforces his stuck-up image

your friends hate him. "he's so annoying, right? he clearly doesn't even care about anyone, yet all these people are practically throwing themselves in front of him so he doesn't need to step in a puddle or something..." one snickers. the other jumps in, "god forbid he ruins his new shoes!"

little do either of them know, jay'll pull you into an empty lecture room later on when you're alone - so desperate to see you because the two of you have been so busy lately :(

grabbing ahold of your hand, he guides you to the top of the stairs, finding seats at the back in case someone walks in.

"i've missed you so much, princess," he says as he watches you settle yourself in the chair, already knowing what's to come

"i missed you too," you giggle at his wide eyes. you open your legs while your hand plays with the ends of his hair, serving as guidance to your core.

you conveniently chose to wear a skirt, which gives him such open access to what the two of you want most right now. his fingers trace small circles on your clothed cunt, a smirk forming on his face as he watches the wet patch growing underneath his touch

he pushes the material to the side before you start squirming, equally as impatient as you are. he dips two fingers into your sopping hole, rubbing his thumb over your clit to ease the stretch. he looks up at you with doe eyes, "you look so beautiful today, princess."

you blush at his kind words mixed with his sensual touch. "jay..."

"what?" he chuckles. "i can't compliment my girlfriend?"

his fingers push and pull in and out of you gently as his eyes travel over your body in its entirety with an expression as if he's seen all seven wonders of the world. he might as well have.

when you're comfortably stretched, letting out soft moans, jay leans down to your core, lapping his tongue over your clit, his fingers rolling into your pussy at a slow pace.

your hand finds its way to his hair, not pulling, but slipping through his strands.

"fuck, jay."

he pulls away for one agonizing moment. "feels good?"

you throw your head back in faux-frustration. "yes, it feels good. dumbass, don't stop."

the vibrations of his laughter against your cunt bring you closer to where you want to be. naturally, your hips roll into his movements as they quicken to match your needs.

within minutes, you're coming undone under his touch, jay humming at the sweet taste of your juices.

if this was the first time you've done this, you'd ask him if he wanted you to jerk him off - not as if you don't want to either. but he'd deny it as always, saying that all he wants is to make his girl feel good.

the two of you sit together in the empty lecture room for some time after that. talking and chatting about whatever, just enjoying each other's company.

then, the appalling sound of your alarm rings. "i should head to my next class," you announce unenthusiastically.

jay pouts. "see you tomorrow?"

"you have that company dinner, remember?"

"oh, right," his frown sours. "i'll skip it, i rather spend my evening with you than greedy old men."

you laugh at his intentions and agree unseriously, getting up and taking your bag with you.

he walks you to the door, but stays back for a while after you leave the room.

it doesn't matter to you that your relationship is kept very lowkey, adds to the excitement - sneaking around, keeping secrets.

#⛓️ ⌗ asks! #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen imagines #enhypen hard thoughts #jay smut #enhypen jay #enhypen scenarios #enhypen jay smut #jay x y/n #jay x you #jay x reader #jay au #jay #jay fic #jay fanfic #enha hard thoughts #enha hard hours #enha smut #enha x reader #enha scenarios #enha imagines #enha #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #jay_fic

[youwillbeokayamemoir]

He saw me.

When I had decided that romantic love wasn't my lowest priority, he walked into my life. He saw me. And he didn't try to change me. But that's the middle of the story. Let's go back to the beginning.

When I was in high school, I dated someone in college. We started talking because I told him to stop asking my older but more innocent friend weird personal questions. Then he started grooming me instead.

We fought all the time. His family hated me. His friends hated me. I can't blame them for finding me obnoxious. I was a CHILD after all. And I guess it was easier to focus on what they didn't like about me than to focus on what the fact that he groomed a 14 year old into a relationship just before heading off to college.

It was only when I went off to college and found out that many people actually find me quite charming and funny that I realized that he didn't even like me. All of our fights were basically about how I had embarrassed him in some way or how insecure I was. So I finally broke off a 4 year long, emotionally abusive relationship.

Less than a year later, I was in a new, emotionally abusive relationship. I said he we shouldn't date because he wasn't over his ex. He aggressively pursued me. I gave in and entered a relationship only to successfully make his ex jealous enough to "want to talk about dating again." He broke up with me but continued to fool around with me while "talking" to his ex. When she decided she was done after all, he said he wanted to be with me again.

Two years and two expensive college transfers later, I was finally free of any emotional attachment to him.

Then, I jumped into a new, emotionally abusive relationship. This time, though, I was the older woman. He was an 18 year old virgin who had never had a real relationship. I was his manic pixie dream girl. I told him he didn't want to be involved with me. I told him that love makes me crazy. (I thought that was the pattern.) And he pursued me anyway. I gave in.

Oh boy, was that an absolute clusterfuck of a shitshow.

Nine months later... I drunkenly yelled what is, hands down, the most comically cruel thing I have ever said out loud in mixed company, "Have a great night! He fucked me on Tuesday!"

Even if it wasn't the kindest way to tell someone that their "boyfriend" had been cheating on her, at least it was honest.

I spent the better part of the next 10 months trying to understand how unbelievably sad and lonely I was. I couldn't fathom why I would miss him so much.

So, I wallowed. I searched my soul. I started writing about my ache and heartbreak on Tumblr. I made out with guys but never did anything. I couldn't be trusted. Something was wrong me. Love made fucking crazy. I was always my worst self in love.

So, I decided to actively avoid romantic entanglements.

And then I met him. I met a guy who made my heart skip a beat. We would only be in the same place for 8 weeks. I tried to ignore it. When he started flirting more overtly, I decided to skip the plesantries. I made myself completely vulnerable, risking proving how crazy I actually am, and I told him everything. I told him about how I liked him. I told him about my past and my reservations.

And he didn't call me crazy. He validated every feeling. He shared his own reservations. He didn't try to persuade me either way. And he let me be me. He saw me.

Which, of course, made me melt.

We had 7 really weird but sweet and lovely weeks together. We saw each other a couple more times. Each time letting go of each other a little bit more.

But not enough. He kept my heart for years. I learned what it meant to fall in love with someone new while still deeply, deeply loving someone from your past. And, it was only recently, when I finally decided that I needed to let him be the one to decide if he wants to remain close friends m, that I realized he accepted me fully, but he never saw me fully.

If he saw me fully, he wouldn't have let me go. And it made my heart ache, still does, to fully acknowledge the fact that he didn't choose me. I never mattered to him as much as he mattered to me. And even almost a decade later, that fucking hurts.

But, actually, I think he was exactly what I needed. He prepared me for him.

He prepared for the man I met at a totally screwed up time. The man who fell in love with me while I was practically juggling romantic entanglements. The man who told me how he felt and got a firm "No, I'm fairly confident falling in love with you will make me crazy" and said "Okay." That man saw me completely and accepted me as I am. And, when I was ready to choose him, he chose me too.

He chose me, too.

#love #memoir #abuse mention #tw gaslighting #heartbreak #healing #romantic relationships

[heyagoatlover]

Tell me about the DExTK fankids owo

That I will! I will put their personalities here and possible future jobs for them! (some personalities I got from a generator)

Red Velvet Cheesecake - A hyper, crazy one! She probably bothers TK a l o t for the smallest things and stares at DE with a smile similar to TK's. When she is older I feel like she would work in the TBD along side her mom and her aunt Croissant!

Churro - He is a bit of a hot head, always having a reason to be pissed off, though it's a wall he puts up since he feels he would be a bit vulnerable if he shows his true feelings. Honestly I feel like he would be a therapist since it would help him understand that he is not the only one going through his anger barriers, but also to help others

Baguette - A calm and stone-faced child, he probably is thinking a lot about you... not in a good way. He is quick to judge others (especially his moms) but willing to give advice. He would be a legendary, taking over TK's place when she decides to retire

Purple Velvet - Open-minded and happy-go-lucky! She always tries to put a smile on someone's face, and can even melt the coldest of hearts. She is so sweet that it's very surprising when others find out her mothers are a crazy steampunk director and a ex villianess who is war criminal. No evil bone in her body! She would own a bakery when she is a adult

Flan - A silly little guy! Purple Velvet in him are apart of a sibling trio that are really sweet and loving. He loves animals (mostly frogs!). Flan will also help run the bakery with Purple Velvet!

Bulgogi - Confident and caring, he is good at leading the other siblings to doing small pranks and being good little children! He is a stickler to the rules and makes sure everyone follows them, even DE's group (who live in the palace). He would be a teacher

Sweet Roll - The third and final member of the 'Sweet Baking Trio', she is also sweet but sassy at times. TK often laughs and says her sass came from DE while Sweet Roll just has a snappy remark. She would help run the bakery with Purple Velvet and Flan!

Gatekeeper - Very imaginative and has a bit of a ego. She often thinks she is 'better' than her siblings and will become the worlds 'most powerful cookie everyone lays their eyes on'. Later on she will become a fashion designer

Apple Pie - A dependent and shy little guy, he is a bit of a mama's boy (mostly to DE). DE would have to guide him on the right path (sometimes literally since he gets a bit too scared to move due to his future seeing). He would be a scientist, trying to find ways on how to disable cookie powers

Tart - A very bitter and untrusting cookie, she will not trust anybody other than close family be with her siblings. She is very good at close combat, especially with swords. Tart would be a fencer in the Hollyberry Kingdom

Chocolate Cream Cheese - Easily scared and very anxious. He does not like being snuck up on and horror movies. He is very close to TK, which is why when he is older he would also work in the TBD!

Tamale - a aloof, cocky, self centered boy. He doesn't feel like he has the need to prove anything to anyone. He will also somehow make conversations about himself. When he is older he will be a lawyer

Banana Split - She is often seen as weird, especially because half of her face matches up with TK's and DE's. She joked around often and very curious of things around her! She is very much gifted in light magic and would become a professor one day!

Butter Cake - Very hyper and loud. She can literally pop out of no where and scare the living hell out of everyone, including Wind Archer! I feel like she might be a daycare attendant and be able to keep up with the kids without getting tired

Lavender Custard (my personal fav) - a very quiet, calm and reserved girl. Due to her missing leg she often gets picked on, but her siblings defend her (and her parents). She loves herbs and gardening, which will be useful when she becomes a adult. She will be skilled in medicine and making them from wild herbs!

#cookie run #cookie run ocs #cookie run rebaked #dark enchantress cookie #timekeeper cookie #timeenchantress #timekeeper x dark enchantress #too many ship kids to put tags for oh lord

[emmythespacecowgirl]

Hi! I'm the anon who was 5'0 and didn't say much about herself 🙈

Gender: female

How I am: I'd say I appear to be super shy till you get to know me, then I'll be cracking jokes all day, dancing and showing you music and movies I like.

I definitely have an issue with boundaries and it's something I'm currently working on so I can have healthier connections to people, I struggle a lot with putting myself first.

I don't like arguing, or loud screaming. I like to take life slow, see the sunrise and the sunset everyday. I fear describing myself a little because I don't want to seem like I'm throwing roses at myself for some reason

I get hurt easily but I hide it and only those who know me well, know when something has hurt me. I tend to deal with pain alone and with time I've become central to help my family deal with the hard stuff.

I'm stubborn especially when I'm behind a goal I want to accomplish, I always have to keep in mind I can be more flexible.

Hobbies: I'm not sure if going to the beach everyday is a hobbie, but it brings me tons of peace so I'll say that and watching movies is one of my hobbies. I'm also into astrology so I spend a good amount of time doing charts and reading about zodiac and mystical stuff

Personality: well..I'm a leo sun, Libra moon and Capricorn rising. I like things to be done well when it comes to work but outside of that I'm happy just sitting down and winding down tbh. I am a hopeless romantic who hides behind and says romance isn't such a big thing, but my heart will melt if someone gives me roses.

I don't know if this will help but I have a super hard time talking about myself 😭♥️

hey fam!! thanks for your patience! it took me a while to ship you tbh bc i see you as compatible with so many of them!

I ship you with:

George Luz from Band of Brothers!

ship theme song: This Will Be Our Year by The Zombies

ok hear me out

y'all are seriously so cute together!!

this boy is the crazy chaotic yin to your yang

nobody can draw people out of their shells like George can!

he literally saw you one day when he was with Perco and Lieb

and he made that "AAA-OOO-GAH!!!" sound

and Perco and Lieb were like "omg please don't do that again or we can't be seen in public together"

and George initially shrugged it off as a joke

but secretly

he was completely sold on you!

the initial meeting was maybe a lil awkward

but George is a sweet guy

your shyness never phases him

he actually decided it would be his challenge >:)

he eventually does woo you over

and nothing warms his heart like seeing your crazy kooky side

he wishes that more people got to see it

but George really compliments your personality imho

he's gregarious while you're more reserved

George loves seeing you passionate about something

whether that's movies or music

he can't help but laugh when you literally drag him over to the couch and "force" him to watch your new favorite movie

he will voraciously consume any type of media with you

nerds <3

George honestly just really likes sitting on the couch, watching you intently staring at the movie screen

he also loves your hair and how dimensional it is in the lighting with it's red and brown streaks

I'd wager that George can help you break down some of those boundaries

but encourage you to take more time for yourself

you can't be everything to everyone!

he just wants the whole world to know how truly amazing you are!

but George gets it

he struggles a lot with feeling like an object in peoples' lives

like he's only worth having around for a laugh

but with you, he realizes that he's worth a lot more than that

you help him to analyze the things that bother him

and offer advice when needed

George can't wait to bring you home to Rhode Island!

he wants his whole family to see what a gorgeous girl you are!

also Rhode Island has some of the most perfect shorelines

sooo if you can get George up before 10am

i bet that he would love to go watch the sunrise with you

George is pretty perceptive as to when you've been hurt

but he definitely knows how to cheer you up!

100 goofy impressions and you'll be rolling on the floor laughing

but also George hugs are underrated tbh

something tells me that this boy gives really good hugs

he's super proud of how dedicated you can be to accomplishing your goals

he wishes that he had half of your ambition!

fyi: he will want his whole astrological chart done ;)

idk bro shy girls and george are just canon for me <3

#my work #enjoy :) #ships #bob ships #the pacific ships #george luz #what would i dooo without george luz

[hyogonokitsune]

hi love!!! I would please like to request something so jdneoe please I'm all blushy while thinking but imagine iwaizumi fucking you in front of the mirror in the locker room after hearing the Japan team talking about you, his precious girlfriend, how they would use you as some fucktoy, he knows you deserve way more than that

hajime knows all the players were watching by the door how you were almost breaking from the pleasure he was giving you, too lost in it you didn't even know they were there

pls this is basically mirror sex and unknown voyeurism for the reader 😭😭😭😭

ofc if you don feel comfortable you don't have to do it!! thanks a lot

this is my first-ever request, so as a prize you win a kissaroo from me to u 😘 this was a very fun idea anon, so thank you for sending it in! I was also blushing while writing it ksjdksdduhjd          

actual locker room talk, (semi-nonconsensual) voyeurism, mirror sex, overstimulation, creampie

2200 words

watching -- iwaizumi hajime x reader

He knew it wasn’t your fault; after all, you couldn’t help how cute you were. You couldn’t help the way the fabric of your skirt clung to your hips, the way the neckline of your blouse dipped down when you bent forward, revealing just a little too much skin. You certainly couldn’t help yourself from gazing at your boyfriend with those cute little bedroom eyes each time you visited him at work; it was a look that he learned early on was unintentional, it was simply your natural reaction to seeing him, and it was one of the little things he loved about you. That gaze was reserved for him and him alone, and it only appeared on your face when you thought no one else was watching.

But someone was always watching you; they just couldn’t help themselves, not when somebody as cute as you was wandering around the gym, trailing after Iwaizumi like a lost puppy, your sweet laughter echoing around the room. The looks they caught you giving to your boyfriend, a small indicator of what you were like behind closed doors, made it difficult for them to not fantasize about you.

Iwaizumi knew this, and to some extent he didn’t mind. Having a gorgeous girlfriend inevitably meant that other guys were going to think about her a little too much, but it didn’t matter what they thought to themselves, because at the end of the day it was him that you went home to.

What he did mind, however, was the way they talked about you. Crowded into the locker room after practice, unaware that he was just outside the open door, the team didn’t hold anything back.

“Did ya see what Y/n was wearing today?” Atsumu asked no one in particular. “That dress didn’t leave much to the imagination, huh?”

“Pretty sure she wasn’t wearing anything underneath,” Hinata said.

“Yeah, I saw the way you were starin’ at her,” Atsumu laughed.

“Can you blame me? When she bent over to pick up that ball….”

Someone whistled then, a low, long note. Several other voices murmured their agreement.

“If she’s looking for some balls to hold, I wouldn’t mind helping her out.” More laughter sounded out; Iwaizumi’s jaw clenched. He was frozen on the spot, unable to tear himself away from the disgusting conversation.

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell her that next time she comes around.”

“Bet she gives crazy good head.”

“Girls like that always do.”

“Fuck, I wouldn’t mind hitting that.”

“She’d probably just lie there and take it, too.”

“Not like I’d want anything else outta her, though.”

Their laughter rang out. Iwaizumi had finally had enough, forcing himself to turn and walk away; it probably wouldn’t have been a good look if the team’s athletic trainer wound up putting them in the hospital.

He definitely knew it wasn’t your fault; not you, his lovely girlfriend who had never asked for any of that attention. The fact that you just existing could elicit such disrespectful comments made him feel more frustration than he knew what to do with. More than the knowledge that other guys were thinking about fucking his girlfriend, he was more bothered by the way they had spoken about you, as if you were just a piece of meat, something interesting for them to play with. He knew better, knew that you were someone to cherish and take care of, someone he had gone out of his way to make feel good countless times.

But he also knew that their comments were, in the end, harmless. He certainly was never going to relay them to you, and as long as you could stay happy, blissfully unaware of what was being said about you, Iwaizumi could shoulder the burden of knowing the team’s true thoughts. He had managed to calm himself down by the next time he saw them, and was successfully managing to ignore what he had overheard.

Up until the next time you stopped by the gym.

When he spotted you across the court, chatting innocently to Ushijima and Atsumu, something in him snapped. He was hyperaware of the lustful way Atsumu was looking down at you, the way the muscles in Ushijima’s arm tensed when you playfully shoved him on the shoulder, laughing at something he had said. It was one thing to listen to the team talk about wanting to fuck you; actually seeing it so plainly on their faces was something else entirely.

Before he was aware of his own intentions, Iwaizumi was making his way over to you, putting a protective arm around your shoulders and tugging you away from the others.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice sounding oddly clipped. “Can you come with me for a second?” He was already leading you away before you could respond.

“Hajime? Is something wrong?” you asked, looking up at him. You could see the muscles in his cheek tensing as he clenched his jaw.

“No, baby,” he said, but you weren’t entirely convinced.

“Okay, because it seems like something’s bothering you,” you pressed as he led you into the team’s locker room.

“Nothing’s bothering me.” He pushed your back up against the row of sinks, large hands firmly gripping your waist. “Just wanted to touch you,” he said, head bending down to press hot kisses into your neck.

“Hajime, not here!” you said, but you made no effort to push him away. You sighed, melting into his touch, hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt as his mouth moved up to your ear, teeth nipping at the soft skin.

“Why not, princess?” he asked, voice low and husky. “Don’t you wanna see how cute you are?”

Turning you around, he pressed his chest up against your spine, hand weaving into your hair to tilt your head back so that he could kiss down your throat. You stared at your reflection in the mirror with wide eyes, gasping as his teeth sank into your skin.

“Don’t you wanna see what you look like when I’m fucking you?”

Your heart was pounding, legs trembling as his hands roamed over your body, lifting up your shirt and tugging down your bra to reveal your breasts. Your nipples hardened when the cold air hit them; Iwaizumi’s fingers brushed over them, pinching and rolling, making you moan softly.

“P-please, Hajime,” you said breathlessly, feeling his cock pressing into your ass. You grinded back against him, desperate for more contact. The wetness was growing between your thighs, soaking through your panties.

“Hmm?” he hummed in your ear. One of his hands moved under your skirt, tugging your panties down and letting them fall to your knees. “What do you want, princess?” he asked, sliding a finger along your pussy, making you squirm.

“Want your cock, please, baby, need it so badly,” you begged. In the mirror, you saw him grin over your shoulder. He tugged down his shorts and boxers just enough to free his cock, before flipping your skirt up over your hips to get a better view of you. He dragged the head of his cock between the folds of your pussy, his touch teasing.

“This what you want?” he asked, the tone of his voice making you shiver. You nodded, biting your bottom lip in anticipation. He pressed into you, groaning at the sight of your eyes fluttering shut as his thick cock stretched you out. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he bottomed out; you clenched around him, drawing another low groan from his lips. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight.”

Iwaizumi loved the look on your face in the mirror, with your head thrown back and eyes squeezed tight, breath coming out in shallow pants as he started thrusting into you. It was clear that you had no thoughts other than how good he felt inside you, desperately wanting him to make you cum; but a part of his mind was thinking of something else. He was thinking about the fact that practice was almost over, and any minute now the team would be heading back to the locker room to find you there, shamelessly moaning from the way that he was fucking you.

“Open your eyes, princess,” he told you. “I want you to look at yourself while I fuck you.” You immediately obeyed, staring, mesmerized, at your boyfriend’s face in the mirror, his dark green eyes boring into you.

His cock was hitting that spot deep inside your cunt, making your whole body tremble. He dug his fingers into your hips, gripping you harshly as he fucked into you. Your pussy was tightening around him, letting him know how close you were getting.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, mouth sucking on the skin of your neck again. “Who’re you so wet for, baby?”

“Y-you, Hajime—oh, fuck—only you,” you gasped out, surprised by how much you were loving being able to watch yourself getting fucked. Your cheeks were flushed, hot breath fogging up the mirror as you came closer and closer to your release. “F-fuck, please don’t stop, baby, I’m g-gonna cum—god!” You had barely gotten the last word out before your orgasm washed over you, eyes closing again at the intense pleasure.

You were too wrapped up in your own world to notice the sound of footsteps getting closer, but Iwaizumi was all too aware of them. He was looking at the door in the mirror when the team appeared there, grinning to himself at the stunned expressions on their faces. He put a hand on your back, pressing you down until your chest was lying flat on the counter.

“You want more, baby?” he asked you, just loud enough for the others to hear.

“Yes,” you moaned, head nodding against the cool surface of the counter. “Feels so good…”

Iwaizumi started thrusting into you harder, the sound of his balls slapping against your cunt echoing throughout the room. You were quickly coming undone, breathing shallow and fast as your nails grasped at the surface beneath you. His name left your lips over and over, begging him to go harder, faster, to give you more.

He loved the way you felt around him, loved how easy it was for him to completely wreck you. Your cunt was clenching so hard around his cock, drawing him back in each time his hips pulled away from you.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured into your ear as one of his hands reached around to play with your clit, the added sensation making your spine arch. “You wanna cum again, princess?”

“Mm hmm,” you whimpered, unable to say much else. You could hardly catch your breath with the relentless pace he set, the feeling of his cock so deep in your pussy making your mind go blank. He was rubbing tight circles over your clit, the friction sending you over the edge again.

With one cheek pressed into the counter, Iwaizumi could see half your face as you were cumming. He smiled at the way your mouth fell open, no sound coming out as he continued to rock his hips into you, not giving you a break for a second. He glanced up at the mirror again to find the whole team still standing in the doorway, watching intently as he fucked you better than they ever could. Several of them were palming themselves through their shorts, desire plain on their faces.

He increased his pace even more, fingers still playing with your clit, making you cry out. Your whole body was shaking underneath him; the sight of it drove him mad.

“T-too much, Hajime!” you wailed, but the look in your eyes as you gazed up at his face pleaded for him to keep going. The overstimulation was electrifying every part of your body, a tingling sensation running up and down your limbs as his cock slammed into you relentlessly.

“One more, princess,” he said, never stopping his movements. “You’re gonna cum for me one more time.” It wasn’t a question or a request, but a clear order. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, even as they watered from the intense pleasure, your vision blurring, body shaking uncontrollably.

“Fuck, fuck! Hajime!” you screamed out as your pussy clenched around him again, eyes rolling back. A string of curses and moans flew past your lips, dissolving into unintelligible babbling. If he hadn’t been gripping your hip so tightly, you would have collapsed from the intensity of your orgasm, knees trembling wildly.

Iwaizumi couldn’t hold back anymore. He leaned down over you, chest pressing into your back and lips latching onto your throat as he came, spilling his load inside of you. “You’re so amazing, baby,” he whispered, his words intended only for your ears.

Panting hard, he pulled out of you, fixing your clothes into place before tucking himself back into his shorts. Pressing one last kiss into the back of your neck, he looked up at the mirror. The hard look he gave the guys still standing in the open doorway was more than clear; without needing a word from him, they all turned to leave before you could sit up and notice them.

Iwaizumi wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in close to plant a kiss on your temple. He led you out of the locker room, grinning at the way the team stared at you in the hallway, their eyes moving to look at his cum slowly dripping down your inner thigh.

--

➣ masterlist

#iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime smut #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #requests #niakasi writing

[foli-vora]

more than words, pt.2

A/N: Really wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction to pt.1 so thank you all so much for your likes, reblogs, kind words and support! I had a few requests to make a taglist so I’ve done it at the bottom - let me know if you’d like to be added! (and I hope I haven’t forgotten anyone) so - on with the show!

Summary: The one person who you thought would be happy for you finally getting with someone decent was your best friend. After all, he had set you both up. Who would’ve thought he’d be the reason it all falls apart?

Pairing: best friend!Benny Miller/f!reader, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/f!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: swearing

pt.1 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

+++

You startle when your phone vibrates on the coffee table, the sudden and abrupt noise of it quick to drag your attention away from the true crime documentary playing across your TV screen. You eye it from your spot on the couch, so far, yet only a mere reach away if you could be bothered to stretch the distance. Your eyes fall back to the TV, happy to just ignore it and address it when you eventually have to move from the cocoon of blankets and pillows you’ve surrounded yourself with, but when the reminder alert sounds two minutes after receiving it, a small voice in the back of your head pipes up, saying it could be something important and you sigh tiredly.

The effort to move pulls a low groan from you and you stretch out, snatching the device from the table and back into the warmth before you could tumble onto the floor and really have something to grumble about.

Hey Benny’s mystery girl, how’s your night going?

The text sends flutters through your stomach, your hands immediately clamming up with a brief wave of nerves. This was the guy that Benny was setting you up with – an apparent very close friend and someone who clearly meant a lot to him. Why did you feel so much pressure to make a good impression?

Blankets, cushions and crime show now forgotten, you straighten up and let your fingers hover over the keypad in contemplation.

Do you play it cool? Act like you have a brimming social life, full of fun and endless options, and are not currently sat at home on a Friday night in your pyjamas watching Netflix, eating an excessive amount of snacks? No. No, you shouldn’t put a false image out there. Honesty is the best policy.

Hey yourself mystery fish. It’s a nice and relaxed night on my end, how about yours?

You leave it at that, briefly wondering if you should quickly chuck your phone on airplane mode, delete the message before it could go through and start again.

Did it sound boring? Is that the kind of image you were throwing out there? Maybe you should’ve acted like you were at least doing something productive. But then… what if Benny was there to call you out on your bullshit, knowing you literally have nothing better to do? He’d gladly do it, too.

You roll your eyes at yourself, wondering why you even cared what this mystery man thought about you and your weekend rituals when you had literally never even met. You were who you were, and that was that. If he didn’t like it, then he could take his handsome face and pretty brown eyes elsewhere.

I’m jealous. Stuck out with the guys and all I can think about is sleeping.

Scratch that. Maybe he was a man after your own heart, after all. A picture of a tray of tequila shots and lemons wedges comes through, another text quickly following which had you giggling quietly to yourself –

I’m too old for this shit.

You grin at your screen, opening your camera and snapping a quick picture of your blanket covered legs, snack covered coffee table and bright TV screen before sending it with a little smirking emoji. You’re not disappointed when he replies almost immediately.

Now I’m really jealous – are those Doritos?

Nacho cheese!

The one and only acceptable flavour. Is that Forensic Files? I binged the shit out of that the other day!

OMG it’s so good!

-

Surprisingly, your eyes didn’t feel as heavy as you thought they would when your alarm drags you from sleep the next morning. You could even say you were looking forward to waking up, which was not how your Saturday mornings usually played out.

Immediately you reach over for your phone and unlock it, smiling like an idiot at the Home safe :) text waiting for you. You chew your lip as you scroll through the many bubbles of conversation, stomach twisting in delight as you re-read through the topics you managed to bounce through in the few hours of texting before you had to call it quits at 2:14am and send a final – Goodnight Frankie x

You had paced your apartment after that, ringing your hands together anxiously and eyeing the clock as the seconds ticked past, scowling at your reflection in the mirror as you took your worries out on your teeth, scrubbing them much harder than necessary. Was a kiss too much? Is it too early for that kind of thing? You had only literally just started talking. Should you quickly text and say it was an accident? It’s not like you can say you sent it to the wrong person – the message had his fucking name in it.

The sound you made when you got a – Sweet dreams mystery girl x – in return wasn’t even remotely human and the words swirled around your head long after you fell asleep.

The reservations you had originally developed on being set up, yet again, quickly dissipated the longer you and Frankie exchanged messages. There had been no awkward block of nothing between texts, no dragging up mediocre subjects to keep the conversation rolling… it had just flowed so effortlessly, so naturally – something which had never happened before with Benny’s previous candidates. The only other candidate that you had managed to have a comfortable conversation with was Will, and that was only after you had both agreed that there was no attraction between the two of you.

Over text, Frankie seemed funny – quick witted and sarcastic – and often had you snorting into your drink over a comment or joke made at his own or his friends’ expenses. No, you weren’t even remotely hesitant about this anymore. If anything, your evening of conversation just made you that much more eager to meet him.

It’s much later in the day when you finally message him, having kept the temptation to message him at bay while you tidied up, keeping it short and sweet with a, How’s the head? You chew your lip, eyes flicking over the message with thoughtful eyes before quickly tagging a little kiss on the end and pressing send. Not even two minutes later, your phone goes off on the coffee table and the clammy hands return tenfold when you read over the message a good fifteen times.

Can I call?

Shit. Shit. He wants to call? And like… talk? With voices? What if you stutter? Choke? Oh god, your throat’s dry. It’s dry – how can you talk with a dry throat? You can’t. Fuck. Fuck. Drink – you need a drink –

You quickly run to the kitchen, filling a glass of water and swallowing it down as quickly as you could, not at all caring that it half spills down your chin and onto your jumper. You gasp for air when you finish, slamming the glass down and catching the drips of water from your chin with the back of your hand. You slide across your floor as you run back out to your couch and grab your phone, typing a quick reply.

Yeah sure.

Too casual. Was that too casual? Should you have added a kiss? Shit – it’s already sent. It’s fine. It’s fine. He asked a short question, and he got a short answer. It makes sense. It’s fine. You yelp when your phone starts to vibrate in your hand, his contact name flashing across the screen.

Oh God.

Oh God.

He’s calling. He’s somewhere out there, phone to his ear, waiting for you to answer and you’re what – standing in your lounge and looking at your phone, watching it ring, like an idiot? What are you doing?

You inhale deeply, clearing your throat a little before swiping the green icon.

“Hi,”

Oh God, what was that? What was that tone?

“Hey. Sorry – looking at my phone screen and trying to reply was making my eyes feel like they’re exploding.”

His voice is deep, hoarse from his night of drinking, and overwhelmingly pleasant to listen to. It brings a flush of warmth across your cheeks, an electric tingle across your skin.

You laugh softly, “It’s alright. Tequila wasn’t a good idea, then?”

He grunts quietly and your stomach tightens, throat suddenly dry again at the suggestive sound.

“It never is.” He groans, melting into a long yawn and you start to feel a little guilty. Did your text wake him up?

“I’m sorry, I should let you sleep –”

“No! No, it’s fine. I uh – I really want to talk to you… if you’re not busy.” He adds onto the end, almost nervously. 

“I’m not busy,” you reassure quietly, smiling shyly down at your lap. “I’m all yours.”

He chuckles lowly, and the sound settles deep in your belly, “Good.”

You don’t understand how conversation could just be so... easy with someone you’ve never met. For a brief moment, you worry you might be talking too much, maybe boring him, but when he keeps asking questions, encourages you to continue, you think that maybe he doesn’t mind, maybe he actually is just interested in what you’re saying.

When dinner comes around, you’re in a fit of giggles as you prepare your food, listening to pots and pans bang and clash on the other end as Frankie prepares his own meal. You cook together, eat together, and then settle in front of Netflix together, debating back and forth on what to watch. The evening melts into night, one movie turns into two, and eventually conversation dies down.

Sometime in the night, you roll over, briefly waking to fix and fluff the pillow under your head when a sound makes you pause. Your head jerks up and you look around, finding yourself sprawled across the couch, and a blanket twisted around your legs.

Glancing over to your phone to check the time, you touch the screen and blink in surprise when you see your phone call is still connected with Frankie, who’s quiet on the other end. You move to press the red button but freeze when a soft snore sounds from the device, and a warm flood of affection grows in your heart and spreads throughout your chest.

He’s asleep.

You listen a moment longer, smiling tenderly when more quiet snores reach your ears. Instead of hanging up, you bring the phone closer, tucking it just beside your pillow before laying your head back down and closing your eyes, letting the quiet breathing soothe you back to sleep.

If the strong butterflies turning your stomach were anything to go by, you were in serious trouble.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh​ @peterhollandkait​ @sara-alonso​ @starlightsearches​ @bookishofalder​ @empress-palpat1ne​ @shadowolf993​ @rosiefridayrogersunday​ @canyonmirrors​ @eoz-stuff​ @blackonemasie​ @layniapetrovnaaa​

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco morales x f!reader #frankie morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #no benny in this chap #but he's coming

[orionwhispers]

Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals. 

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”

#tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby oneshot

[manmankai]

The Scents of the Mankai Company Troupes - Part 3

Autumn Troupe (Act 1 Only)

Banri Settsu Floriental by Comme Des Garcons

Banri would say it himself: he's practically perfect. He can do no wrong. He's good at everything. So what does a dude who's good at everything smell like, besides the obvious description of "really good"? That's a tough one and I won't lie - the pressure to nail Banri's scent like he nails absolutely everything is high. I chose Floriental by Comme Des Garcons for a few reasons: 1) it's unisex and I think Banri enjoys queering gender. He wears traditionally feminine and masculine clothes together. He'll get in a fist fight wearing pink leopard print. A scent that says, "Gender means nothing to me" just... makes sense. 2) it's expensive, and we all know that Banri has some pricey taste. His prime shopping partner is resident richboy Tenma, after all. and 3) it smells damn good. A little woody, a little smoky, a little fruity - and lets be real, Banri is a little fruity. Comme Des Garcons describes the scent as "enigmatic, contrasted, intense." Absolutely. Sold. I'm convinced.

Juza Hyodo Motor Oil + a Faint Hint of Chocolate

Juza is many things, but first and foremost, he is a sugar junkie. He loves candy, cakes, chocolate - you name it. The guy's got two modes: about to eat sweets or has just eaten sweets. I think that getting close to Juza would mean getting a whiff of chocolatey goodness. There would be something else, though, too. Being the motorcyclist he is, I'm of the opinion that he would also often smell like motor oil. He's out there fine tuning his ride and getting his hands dirty. He's gonna smell like his trusty steel horse. That might sound bad, but I think it actually would suit him quite nicely. Very rugged, much like Juza's appearance. You'd meet him and get that biker vibe, but then when you got closer, the sweet, gooey chocolate center would reveal itself.

Taichi Nanao BOD: Most Wanted

Oh, Taichi. Baby boy. You want girls so bad, and all the BOD commercials say that this is the key to make them want you back. But taking that spray bottle (yes, it literally comes in a spray bottle) to your body will not do what you think it will! BOD: Most Wanted is described as having "hints of fresh citrus and herbs" mixed with "smoldering woods and bold marine scents to create a full, aromatic fragrance." That sounds lovely, actually. The issue is the sheer excess with which we know our resident ADHD king applies it. No impulse control, we die like we live. Y'all thought Kazunari would be an Axe-Over-Applier? He ain't got nothin' on Taichi and his BOD. We love him anyway.

Omi Fushimi Whatever Delicious Meal He Just Cooked Up + Soap

Omi is the mother hen of the house and, by far, the best chef. You can hardly read an A3! story without a character remarking on Omi's food. I believe wholeheartedly that this means Omi smells delicious and edible all the time. Savory or sweet? That depends on what he's been cooking. Maybe tonight after dinner he smells like the umami aroma of the incredible ramen he made. Maybe in the morning he's gonna smell like those melt-in-your-mouth cinnamon rolls he made for breakfast because they're your favorite. The man lives and breathes cooking. When he's not giving Dinner Time Seduction, he probably smells fresh and clean like the dish soap he just used to wash all the dishes right after your meal together. (He is the picture of domesticity and an icon. Martha Stewart, eat your heart out.)

Sakyo Furuichi Like a fuckin' man

Sakyo is a reserved kind of guy. He cares about his appearance, but he isn't one to preen. He's tough. He holds back his feelings. He yearns. He's very sexy. I digress. I can't picture him waking up in the morning and dabbing on cologne. That'd be too much. His deodorant would be understated and practical, but masculine. Subtle, woodsy scents, clean cotton. You ever hug that guy and he's probably gonna smell like freshly laundered pine wood somehow. He may also smell faintly of leather, despite not wearing any. And is that... gunpowder you smell? Huh... Guess that's just what it's like when you smell like a badass. ;) (please note that "man" and what that smells like is entirely subjective and I'm approaching this from the stereotypical lens of how we gender scents. if sakyo smells like a man, then he smells like whatever that means to you <3)

Want more Mankai smells? Check these out!

#a3! #a3! headcanons #a3! act! addict! actors! #a3! actor training game #a3! autumn troupe #banri settsu #juza hyodo #taichi nanao #omi fushimi #sakyo furuichi #banri #juza #taichi #omi #sakyo #my hcs #hc smells

[amjustagirl]

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!)

feat. Tsukkishima Kei 

requested for by @animestheticz (hope you enjoy it bb!) 

Previously:

Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. Kita Shinsuke. Kuroo Tetsuro.

Masterlist link here

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

Wordcount: 2k

Genre / Pairings: Fluff, Hogwarts AU, Tsukkishima / Reader

A/N: Any other characters you’d like to see? Send me an ask! 

(happy to do any characters other than Kenma / Hinata / Tendo - I don’t trust myself to do them justice!)

Oh and this is just shameless advertisement for my other fic - but I’m also writing a multi chapter fic based off Your Name / Kimi No Nawa featuring Akaashi Keiji (i.e. a bodyswap AU featuring our favourite Tokyo pretty boy). Check it out here!

——————————————————————

“P-please? Just this once?’ Yachi begs, fingers gripping your sleeve like a vice. 

You’re sorely tempted to refuse her ridiculous request, but you can’t bring yourself to. This is Yachi Hitoka, your best friend, though currently she’s a nervous wreck fretting over her first date with Yamaguchi Tadashi. The sweet, freckled Hufflepuff chaser has finally worked up the courage to act on his painfully obvious crush on Yachi - both veritable balls of sunshine, so sweet and anxious and caring that you can’t imagine a better match. 

So you don’t understand why on earth you’re being asked to tag along on a double date with one Tsukkishima Kei. 

It’s not that you dislike the guy – far from it. You’ve had a crush on him yourself ever since Yachi started hanging around Yamaguchi in your third year, sucking you and Tsukkishima have been sucked into their orbit, reluctant moons revolving around twin suns. But you’ve tucked it away since Tsukkishima doesn’t seem to have an interest in anyone at all – in fact, half the time his snarky replies and cold silences make you think he barely tolerates Yamaguchi as a friend, let alone yourself. 

Still, refusing Yachi is tantamount to kicking an injured puppy, so you swallow your reservations and agree. 

‘Thank you!’ Yachi cheers. ‘We’ll have fun, I promise!’ 

-----------------------------------------

It’s summer, and your blouse is sticking to your back as you dash through Diagon Alley. Tsukkishima and Yamaguchi are already waiting in front of Flourish & Botts, the former barely even granting you a nod, though he does give you the courtesy of removing his headphones, while Yamaguchi bounces on the balls of his feet to greet you cheerfully. 

‘Woah there Yamaguchi – keep your enthusiasm for your date’, you joke, and he grins back at you.  And he does – stuttering and blushing as Yachi arrives. Yachi herself is no better – you swear you can hear her teeth chatter as she greets all of you, though she beams when Yamaguchi presents her with a small posy of flowers with clammy hands. 

‘They’re cute’, you remark to Tsukkishima as you walk beside him on the way to the first stop -  Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. 

‘Mm’, he responds, his face blank. 

You know he doesn’t suffer fools – worse still, talkative ones, so you fall silent until you reach the ice cream store. To your surprise, he pulls the chair out for you, and accepts your offer to share a cup of ice cream with you, a tilt to his lips when you automatically order a strawberry shortcake sundae – it’s his favourite after all. 

Yachi and Yamaguchi seem to have gotten over their initial shyness, chatting up a storm in their own little world. You’re excluded, as you expected, but you’re glad for their sakes. 

‘Excited about the last year of school?’ 

You glance up from your melting sundae, surprised that Tsukkishima is the first to break and initiate a conversation. From your interactions with him, he’s deliberate and methodical in his thoughts and words, so you take a few beats to formulate a response. 

‘Yes and no, really’, you answer honestly. 

He raises a thin blonde eyebrow, wordlessly beckoning you to elaborate. 

‘I’m excited for our classes, the syllabus seems really interesting this year’, you say, wincing at how desperately nerdy you sound – but you’re a hopeless Ravenclaw, and advanced Arithmancy and Astronomy excites you. ‘But it’s scary isn’t it – knowing that it’s our last year, and having to make all those important decisions that are going to affect us, years down the road?’ 

He hums thoughtfully. ‘I get that’, he responds, hands steepled under his chin. ‘I’m deciding between doing further studies in magical history and going pro – just for a few more years. But I know no matter what decision I end up making, I’ll probably end up second guessing myself’. 

‘Why can’t you do both?’ you find yourself saying before you can stop yourself. His brow furrows a notch. ‘You’re great at both, and I can’t see why you can’t as long as you put your mind to it’. 

You cringe at your cheesiness, expecting him to snark at you for your Hufflepuff-like optimism the way he does with Yamaguchi, but you’re surprised once again when he mutters a quiet ‘thanks’, a flush high in his cheeks, and then asks -  ‘And what about you?’ 

You wonder if he’s merely being polite, but his tone is serious, and his eyes are intently focused on you, so you tell him about your plans of taking on further studies in Arithmancy, perhaps even enroll in a Muggle university to study Mathematics for a semester or two, before working in Gringotts. The goblins may be archaic in their beliefs about the magical world, but their application of mathematics is extremely advanced. 

‘It suits you’, he comments. You want to ask him what he means by that, but Yachi pipes up from across the table.  

‘If you’re done with your ice cream, do you guys want to check out the magical menagerie? Yamaguchi’s going to get a cat!’ 

Before you can agree, Tsukkishima tells Yachi and Yamaguchi to go on ahead, drolly reminding them that they’re on a date, and they should go spend some quality time together. So they head off with wide smiles, shoulders bumping. They’re so sweet together it almost makes your teeth ache. Well, at least you’ve been dismissed as their reluctant chaperone, and you’re about to wish Tsukkishima a polite farewell when he taps your shoulder. 

‘Let’s go check out Flourish & Botts. I’m sure you have books you want to check out’. 

You blink – because you do, but you don’t expect Tsukkishima to accompany you, let alone be the one seeking out your company. He doesn’t even wait for your assent before he sets off, and you have to jog to keep up with the pace his long legs set. Thankfully, he notices you’re still lagging behind and slows down, though he teases dryly – ‘you know, at the rate you’re walking, I’m not sure we’ll get there before sundown’. 

You pointedly look up at the sun, still high in the sky, before levelling an unimpressed glare at him. He only smirks in response – and you’re so flustered by how attractive his expression is that you nearly trip over the threshold to Flourish & Botts. He catches you with a steady hand to your elbow – and now your heart is fluttering – is this how Yachi is like all the time? If so, you should really cut her some slack – the thoughts crowding your mind so distracting that you hardly hear Tsukkishima call your name in concern until he shakes your shoulder gently. 

‘Are you alright?’ Tsukkishima repeats, with a frown. 

‘Y-yes’, you reply, cursing your traitorous heart again. He doesn’t look like he believes you, insistently pushing you towards an empty couch. 

He clicks his tongue. ‘Don’t move’ he orders, before he disappears, probably to get the books he has his eyes on.  

You sink into the cushions, resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands in embarrassment. An hour spent in his presence and you’ve already turned back into a lovesick fool. You’ve told yourself countless times to just get over your silly crush on him already because it’s not going to do you any good. 

Yamaguchi’s complained to you and Yachi countless times about girls asking him if Tsukkishima is single, but you don’t see him taking an interest in anyone at all – spending all his time instead in the library and on the Quidditch pitch. 

He’s the stone faced beater from Ravenclaw. People wonder sometimes if ice flows in his veins – but they don’t see the determined set of his jaw when he’s ploughing through homework and assignments because he knows he’s going to have to spend the whole day in training the next day, the glint of satisfaction in his eyes whenever he wins a match or scores a good grade, the patience he expends tutoring Yamaguchi (along with Hinata and Kageyama) in Ancient Runes – 

Oh Merlin. You’re a hopeless case. 

 You jump when he returns and drops into a seat beside you. 

‘Oi, what’s wrong with you’, he mutters a tad scornfully, though he drops the book you were eyeing onto your lap. 

‘N-nothing. T-thanks!’ you answer, internally cursing yourself for even picking up Yachi’s speech patterns. 

Get it together. You’re not a fool. 

He hums, browsing his own book. 

It’s pleasant spending an afternoon in a nook reading books. It’s not so pleasant when your heart palpitates every single time his knee grazes yours - and if you shift just a tiny bit to the left you’re pressing against his side and - oh 

‘Are you sure you’re ok?’ he asks, frowning again, when he notices you’ve been reading the same page for the past fifteen minutes. 

‘F-fine’, you stammer, warmth flooding your cheeks when he leans his face dangerously close to yours, bringing his palm to brush against your forehead. 

‘Your temperature’s fine’, he mutters, but he doesn’t pull away – and oh gosh, you’re so close you can count every single lash on his eyes, your traitorous heart causing you to drown in the quiet concern in his eyes – and oh - 

You’re not quite sure who makes the first move because your eyes flutter close, your nose bumps against his and you feel his chapped lips against yours for a split second before he pulls away. 

You open your eyes. 

Did that truly happen? 

Judging from the blank expression on his face, the past few seconds were probably just a fever dream. But there are signs that cool, quiet Tsukkishima isn’t his usual self - a flush creeping up the back of his neck, his fingers gripping the pages of the book so tightly it starts to crinkle.  

‘What was that?’ you blurt out, confused. 

‘What was what?’ Though his voice remains calm and collected, his flush has traveled all the way to the very tips of his ears. 

‘Nothing’, you answer, dropping your eyes back to the open book on your lap, your mind in a whirl. Surely you didn’t imagine that, right? Did you just - did he just - wait, you’re confused again, what’s going on? 

Your thoughts are interrupted by elegant, long fingers slotting between your own. ‘Silly’ he mutters, but there’s a fond twist to his lips and a softness in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. 

‘I’m pretty sure I’m not the only silly one here’, you respond, in a sudden swell of confidence, though your pulse is sending tremors down your spine, your breath catching in your throat. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re the silly one too’. You curl your fingers over his and lean into his side. 

He hums diffidently. ‘I guess it might seem that way’. 

You both share a shy smile. 

-----------------------------------------

Yachi is smug when you confess to her later that Tsukkishima - no - Kei asked you out as he walked you home that evening. 

‘I told you that we’d have fun!’, she says, grinning cheek to cheek. Then she starts rambling on and on about future double dates with her and Yamaguchi in Madame Puddifoots, where you can share couple sundaes and steaming mugs of hot chocolate - wouldn’t that be wonderful? 

You resist the urge to tell her that Kei has sworn off any future double dates - let alone at the white and pink lace bedazzled monstrosity of a cafe, and his suggestion of a quiet afternoon spent at his favourite bookshop cafe sounds far more inviting to you. 

You’ll let Yamaguchi break the news to her later, on a more appropriate date.  

Instead you just smile to yourself, thinking of the quiet affection in his voice as he wished you farewell, and the suppressed delight in his eyes when you called his name just as he was about to turn away and surprised him by pulling him down to you and pressing your lips to his cheek. 

Yachi’s right. You did have fun after all. 

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu romance #hq #hqradiostation #haikyuu angst #haikyuu writing #hq writing #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #tsukkishima kei #tsukkishima x reader #tsukkishima kei x reader #tsukkishima x y/n #tsukkishima x you #tsukki x reader #tsukki x you #karasuno #hogwarts au #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuucreations

[omgrachwrites]

Home With You - Joaquin Torres

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader

Summary: When your boyfriend comes back from a long mission, you decide to spoil him and help him with his insecurities.

Warnings: fluff, tooth rotting fluff, so much fluff!!

Words: 1459

A/N: Basically this is me simping for Torres, I just love him so much and I really enjoy writing for him! Hope you guys enjoy this one and please let me know what you think, I love you all! xxx

The smell of your lemon scented disinfectant filled your small kitchen and you wrinkled your nose at the strong smell. Your boyfriend, Joaquin was coming home from a month long mission today and you did what you normally did when he was due to arrive back home. You gave the whole apartment a deep clean so you wouldn’t spend the whole day watching the clock, waiting for his arrival. Excitement and longing fizzed through your body as you stood back and admired your handiwork, smiling to yourself. Your cell phone started ringing, making you jump and you grinned when you saw the caller ID.

“Hey, handsome,” you smiled and your heart soared when you heard his deep chuckle, you had missed the sound of his laugh so much. His laugh was your favourite soundtrack.

“Hello, beautiful. God, I missed your voice,” you blushed at his words, you just wanted to see him and kiss him, “I’ve just got back to base, though traffic at rush hour is going to be a nightmare, so I’ll probably be home with you in an hour. Sam is going to give me a ride,” his voice was distorted by a long yawn and you coughed to cover up a giggle, “I love you, angel.”

Joaquin sounded exhausted, usually when he got home after a mission he would insist on taking you out for a drink, he’d always say, ‘why can’t I treat my baby girl? Are you gonna hold that against me?” he’d give you those great big puppy dog eyes and you’d know that you were done for. However, he sounded so tired and he’d just been away on a mission with Sam and Bucky, a mission that he’d been worried about. So tonight, you were going to spoil your Prince.

“I love you too, sweetheart, see you in an hour.”

When you’d both hung up, you got a bottle of champagne that you had reserved for his homecoming and you left it in a bucket of ice to make sure it was even more crisp and refreshing. You dug your special lavender candles out of the bathroom cabinet and you lit them in the bathroom when he messaged you to say that he was on his way up to the apartment.

As soon as Joaquin walked through the door, kitted out in full army gear with that lazy smile on his face, your heart fluttered. You couldn’t stop yourself from running into his arms, flinging your arms around his neck. Joaquin didn’t seem to mind as he chuckled and lifted you off the floor. In his arms, you felt like you were home again.

“I missed you so much!” you pulled back to look at his handsome face.

He smiled and cupped your cheek, pulling you in for a deep kiss that made your head spin, “I missed you more, you look beautiful by the way,” his eyes were so warm and soft and he made you feel like a million dollars, when in fact, you were merely in your sweats, “where would you like to go tonight?”

“We’re staying in, Torres,” you teased, tapping his nose.

“But I always take you out when I get back home,” he tilted his head, looking confused.

“Yes, but you’re exhausted, let me spoil you like you always spoil me.”

It was then that he let out a lopsided grin, that took your breath away, “have I told you that I love you today?”

You beamed, your eyes drinking in the beautiful sight before you as you dragged gentle fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes in contentment as he leaned into your touch, “you literally told me about an hour ago but I always love hearing it.”

He laughed as he pulled you in for a deep kiss, “I love you, Y/N,” he muttered against your lips before he set you down on the floor.

“I love you too,” you smiled, resting your hands on his chest, “let’s work on getting these clothes off you,” you grabbed the bottle of champagne.

Joaquin scoffed playfully, “God, I’ve barely been here ten minutes and you’re already trying to get me naked.”

“You know me too well baby,” you smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.

As you ran the bath – putting in some of your fancy bubble bath – Joaquin’s arms wouldn’t stray from your waist, “will you get in with me?” he asked in a shy voice.

You smiled as you turned in his arms and found him blushing, “of course darling,” you giggled.

As the bath filled up, Joaquin let you remove his uniform, shivering when you ran your hands over his skin. When he stood before you in his boxers, you poured him a glass of champagne, “how was the mission, Joaquin?” you asked, massaging his forearms.

Almost at once, his face fell, “I um don’t really want to talk about it right now, is that okay?” he asked biting his lip.

“Of course handsome,” you kissed his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

When the bath was full and Joaquin pushed his boxers off, you flushed and couldn’t look him in the eye, even though you had been together for a couple of years and you had seen him naked so many times. He chuckled and tucked a finger beneath your chin and he leaned down to kiss you. Joaquin helped you out of your clothes slowly, kissing the back of your neck.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he beamed when you flushed and he helped you into the hot bath, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest. You smiled as you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and curled your arms over his.

The both of you sat in the bath until it went cold, whispering sweet nothings to each other. When you got out, you wrapped the both of you in a fluffy towel. You and Joaquin were both grinning like lovesick fools.

Later on, after you had ordered the greasiest take-out food ever, you were snuggled up on the couch, watching shit TV. Joaquin’s head was leaning against your chest with his arms wrapped around your waist. You stroked his hair off his forehead and delved your fingers into his thick hair, massaging his scalp.

“Mm,” Joaquin moaned in bliss, “that feels so good angel,” you smiled at his words and kissed his forehead. He turned to jelly in your arms, he was completely relaxed, “I think that Sam thinks I’m an idiot,” he breathed against your skin in a small voice.

You raised your eyebrows as you pulled him closer, “why do you think that, baby?”

“The mission went wrong and I think Sam thinks it was my fault. Bucky certainly thinks that I’m an idiot.”

“Bucky thinks that everyone is an idiot,” you giggled, trying to lighten the mood but Joaquin didn’t seem to think that it was funny. You sighed as you cupped his cheeks and those endless brown eyes were sad as he looked at you, “if Sam thought you were an idiot he wouldn’t have asked you to go on the mission with him. Whatever happened wasn’t your fault, I promise you that.”

Joaquin smiled a little uncertainly as he kissed your cheek, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

The both of you decided to go to bed earlier than usual and your gorgeous boyfriend cheekily grinned at you from beneath the covers as he watched you get ready for bed, “thank you so much for tonight, beautiful, I really needed it.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him and grinned, “you’re welcome baby, you deserved to be spoilt.”

Joaquin smiled a little shyly as he fiddled with his fingers, “will you sleep naked with me tonight? No funny business, I just want to feel your skin against mine.”

Your heart melted at his request, who were you to deny him? Without a word you slipped off your sleepwear and his eyes raked over you with a loving look on his face. He held out his hand to you and you kissed his knuckles as you slipped beneath the covers with him. Joaquin’s skin was warm against yours as he pulled you into his arms, lightly trailing his fingers down your back. You kissed his chest, resting your hand on his stomach.

“I love you so much,” you grinned smiling up at your beautiful boyfriend; you have never been so in love before.

Joaquin smiled down at you as he kissed your forehead, “I love you too, Y/N and I always will,” you were so happy that he was safe and he was back home with you again. In his arms you were home again.

------------------------------

@smiithys​ @elayneblack​ @amelie-black​

#joaquin torres #torres #joaquin torres one shot #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres fluff #joaquin torres fic #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x reader insert #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres x y/n #you x joaquin torres #torres x reader #torres x reader insert #torres x you #torres x y/n #you x torres #tfatws #The falcon and the winter soldier #marvel

[folkloreguk]

Still The Louvre (m)

A/N: Someone requested this and I hope you like it! This happens when you have Lorde’s Melodrama on repeat whilst writing…thanks for inspiring me queen (although I’m not sure why breakup songs made me write this lol) Also Merry early Christmas to those who celebrate!! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fluff, smut, car sex, childhood friends to lovers, a tiny bit of angst but only for 0.5 minutes maybe, I hope this heals someone who’s given up on finding love, you all deserve someone who sees the best in you!!!

words: ~ 3.9 k

.

“We’re just friends. Guys and girls can be friends! We’ve always been best friends, ever since we were seven. Nothing more.” That’s what you used to say. Now look who was the clown in those conversations all along. You guessed correctly - it was you. Because on your sixteenth birthday, he showed up in his black tee and baseball jacket, with your favorite candy and a heart-shaped necklace. Little did he know, if you could, you would have carved his initials into it, right there and then. Because it was that day, you understood one thing. You were head over heels in love with your best friend.

You would have been the perfect high school sweethearts – had it not been for the three different girls he had dated instead of you. He always had all their hearts, the only thing he needed to do was pick. And who could blame the other girls? He was all you could ever ask for, so there was no point in being bitter about their adoration for him.

Multiple times, you had tried to convince yourself you were over him. Like when you went out with one of the popular guys, only to realize three dates in that he was the possibly most boring person you had ever encountered. Or like that one time you agreed to go to prom with the class clown. He almost made you spit out your drink of laughter all night long, but when he tried to stick his tongue down your throat at the end of it all, you changed your mind. Your most successful boyfriend stayed for a full six months, before leaving you. He had been jealous of your relationship with your best friend. And you couldn’t even resent it. Your then-boyfriend had been in second place all along, and you should have never even dated him.

Long story short, whenever you looked at boys, you compared them to your best friend. And your best friend was an invincible competitor. It was safe to say, your teenage years weren’t what the films made them out to be. Except if there was a movie about a girl who cried so much about her best friend who she loved, she almost thought there was something seriously wrong with her. Some days the pain was so heavy, you’d get mad at him for no reason. Then you’d have to tell him lies that wouldn’t worry him and move on. Who could you tell? Your best friend was the one supposed to help you through boy trouble, wasn’t he? Yeah, that wasn’t going to work for you.

But that was the past. Lately, life was better. You couldn’t pinpoint when you first noticed the way he looked at you. Was it when he told you he felt like no boy in the world would be good enough for you, so maybe he should date you instead? It sounded like a joke, but his eyes said differently. Or was it when he asked you to sleep in his bed instead on his spare mattress at one of your sleepovers you’d had since you were eleven? He held you without words being shared, and neither of you addressed it in the morning. Maybe you both knew what it meant, either way. The mere thought of him liking you back was almost unbelievable for you. But after last night, you had no doubt. You had been in the elevator in the cinema with him. It was only ten seconds, and before you could have kissed his face that was inches from yours, the doors had opened. But he had chuckled and grinned at you for thrice the time afterwards. As if you had a new inside joke now.

It seemed you both knew what you wanted. But were you willing to take your friendship to that level?

Today, you were sure you were willing. Your heart almost ached in desire for him when you saw him standing with your shared friends. There, on the beach in the dark of night, with a bonfire drawing the warmest orange glow on his skin, you thought he had never looked more handsome. It was a small get-together between old school friends you both hadn’t seen in a while. And you should have been all over them, asking them about their lives and how they’ve been. Instead you only had eyes for the person you saw every day of your life. You swore you’d never get enough of his sweet smile and eyes so trustworthy you wanted to put all your deepest secrets right into his hands. His chest was heaving from laughter as he pat his friend’s shoulder in agreement. Oh, how dearly you wanted that hand to slip into your very own.

It was a warm night, you had been eating marshmallows, sharing genuine laughter and looking up at the stars and the full moon. Only one thing could have made your experience better, or one person, rather. You silently cursed yourself, because the night was coming to an end – some people had already left – and you still hadn’t made your move on him like you had planned it. But then your song played from the speaker. The very song you two always played in your car whenever you drove somewhere together. Every small beat reminded you of him and the lyrics were carved into your heart, it seemed.

When he noticed, his eyes shot up and met yours. They crinkled up into a smile that you returned. Finally, he made his way over to you and automatically your arms opened for him. Like coming home, he melted into your figure, arms mellow around your body. Quietly, he sang along into your ear, like every little word was meant just for you. You only pulled away slightly, so you could look at each other’s faces. You could’ve cried, realizing the time you had waited for him had been worth it after all. He was giving you a look you had thought would be forever reserved for other girls – but never for you. The starry sky above you wouldn’t stand a chance compared to his dreamy eyes and the fresh ocean air could easily be forgotten, if it meant to be in his arms and breathe in his familiar scent. If you leaned forward only a little, you could kiss him.

“Guys, we’re headed off,” a voice interrupted you.

“We should get going too, don’t you think?” he said. Almost mechanically, you nodded. You reminded yourself that you would still be in the car with him for twenty minutes until you’d arrive at home. And he’d stay at your place. You had him all night long. As you walked to your car, his hand brushed against yours softly, and you weren’t sure if it was just an accident, at first. But he was smiling as if he knew everything when you looked over at him and there you had your answer. The moment he had sat down in the passenger seat of your car, he was digging around for a CD to play. He settled for a playlist he had made for you in spring.

There was so much to be said and simultaneously silence had never felt more comfortable while you drove. You were going south along the high cliffs to your right. It was truly the most beautiful part of your hometown.

“I hate driving here,” you said.

“You don’t like driving along the cliffs? Too dangerous?” he asked.

“No. It’s too beautiful here to just look straight ahead at the road,” you said. He chuckled.

“We can stop at the tourist spot if you want to look at the sea,” he suggested. You smiled because he knew you so well. The ‘tourist spot’ really was a small parking spot right by the road, with space for about ten cars. You could already see it ahead of you. On sunny days lots of people driving down the coast liked to stop there for a rest and to take photos. Now, it was completely empty, of course. You parked at the spot closest to the cliff, so you could look down at the sea without having to get out of your car.

The slow playlist he had made for you was still playing when you switched off the engine. You knew right then and there, no matter where the night went, you’d remember this moment forever. The glow of the full moon was sparkling on the wild billows beneath you. Your eyes fixed on the horizon for a moment, as if you could have seen the closest island if only you paid enough attention. But it was only a wild vastness seemingly without end. Momentarily, you thought you spotted something in the water. Whales? But when you looked closer, there was nothing but the white and dark blue colors of the tempestuous waves.

“It’s gorgeous,” you spoke into the silence, your chin resting on your forearms on the steering wheel. You waited for his response. When it didn’t come, you turned to look his way. He was already looking at you. If cupid was real, he had just fired another arrow at your heart. Never could you have guessed how your best friend’s foolish grin could have made your heart skip a beat like this. Without another thought entering your head, you bent over to him. He knew what it meant when you mirrored his smile.

And then, you closed your eyes. You could admit it now - every time you had blown out your birthday candles, this was all you had ever wished for. His lips fit so perfectly onto yours. After the amount of times you had imagined it, really kissing him still was so much better than it had ever felt in your wildest dreams. His hands tangled in your hair and you almost couldn’t breathe. But then again, you didn’t need to. Right then, you didn’t need anything but him. For the first time, you touched the back of his neck in the way you had always wanted to – to pull his mouth closer to yours.

When you pulled away, everything in you screamed ‘Do it again! Now!’. It was as if your mind was worried that he would slip right through your fingertips if you didn’t hold him close to you for the rest of your life. Too many times you had thought that maybe you could have him, only to be let down because your hopes were too high.

“When did you first want to do this?” you asked, because you needed to know.

“About four months ago, probably. What about you?” he said. His hand was still on yours, as if to say “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere”.

“Ever since I was sixteen,” you said. You could have lied, but what was the use? You loved him too much to ever deceive him. His eyes widened. His hurt was yours, and so you understood the way your words must had pierced through his heart. Now he knew. You could practically read it in his eyes, how he realized the pain, the jealousy and disappointment he had caused, for years, without ever intending to do so. And although you should have wanted him to understand your hurt, the guilt and pain in his look was unbearable.

“It’s not your fau-“ you started.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N,” he interrupted you. “I’m so sorry – god I’m such an ignorant asshole.”

“No!” you said, taking his hand in both of yours. “You are my best friend, and you have caused me endless hours of happiness. I would have taken any sadness if it meant I could be your best friend forever.”

His eyes were watering and your heart felt like someone had gripped and twisted it in their bare hands.

“I was dating people and you had to sit and watch,” he said in disbelief.

“It meant to see you happy,” you said. “Hating you or those girls wouldn’t have changed your feelings for me. Because we don’t choose what we feel and for whom we feel things.”

“I love you,” he let out. “I’m so in love with you and I’ll make it up to you for the rest of my life, I swear.”

His words hit you like a torrent and you didn’t even care about the years of hurt anymore.

“There’s nothing you need to make up to me. I just need you to be here with me. Let me love you the way I’ve secretly loved you all this time,” you said. You touched foreheads until your breaths mixed.

“I’m yours – all yours,” he said. “I’m sorry. It took so long for me to realize and you were here all along, waiting for me. I never wanted to hurt you. How can I apologize properly?”

“Just kiss me again, please,” you said, almost begged. “Kiss me and it’ll all go away.”

And so he did. You had never known how much emotion could be in a kiss. But then again, you had never felt this strongly for anyone else but him. You deepened the kiss, bending almost all the way over to his side of the car. His hands were touching your cheeks so gently, but they were coaxing you closer and closer. When his tongue stroked over your bottom lip, you sighed against his mouth.

“I want you,” you admitted. You thought about driving home, but you needed to be honest to yourself. Driving in this state of mind was probably not safe.

“Backseat?” he asked, lips barely leaving yours alone. Hastily, you nodded. He climbed back there first, then you followed. It was only ten seconds that you couldn’t hold him for, but you yearned for him more than ever when you finally sat down in his lap, facing him. Without hesitation, your hungry mouths attacked each other again. You swore, you could have sat there all night long, kissing and touching him, if there hadn’t been something you wanted even more.

Swiftly, you slid his shirt over his head. Of course, you had seen him shirtless before, but never like this. Never with his chest practically heaving against yours, never with your hands being able, being allowed to touch him. Your fingertips were shaky against his smooth skin and you must had looked at him as if he was carved directly from marble. So he put his fingers under your chin and you looked into his eyes. If his body was marble, his eyes were diamonds. Ever so gently, he kissed you again. For a while you sipped on each other’s lips, only pulling away for a moment so you could remove your own shirt. You had opted to not wear a bra that day, out of comfort but also laziness. All along you used to think that saying someone’s eyes darkened in lust was an exaggeration, but when you looked into his, you understood. It was true. The way he eyed you was beyond all your most daring dreams you had ever dreamt about him.

Your lips meddled messily as his hands ran down your body starting from your neck, to your breasts, squeezing them and playing with your nipples. He was careful not to tickle you, knowing from hundreds of childhood play fights where your weak spots were. Your back arched against his chest, wanting more than his careful touches. On impulse, your hips ground against his crotch. As if on cue, you both let out strained noises. By now, your breaths were heavy when you pulled away shortly. Dreamy eyed, he touched the pendant of the necklace between your collar bones.  

“I gave you that…,” he started.

“For my sixteenth birthday,” you finished his sentence. You caught a flash of regret in his gaze, but you weren’t going to let him feel that way. Not now. Like you had wanted to so many times, you bent to his neck and began peppering kisses on his skin.

“Can I give you a hickey?” you whispered, almost afraid you were still in a dream.

“Just one?” he asked, and even without looking at him you could hear the grin in his voice. After sharing him with so many girls for so long, it almost felt selfish. But you reminded yourself that he wanted you now, after all. He groaned when your teeth grazed his skin and you sucked purple marks onto his neck and shoulder. His restless hands touched all over your boobs and hips, down to your ass where they slid into the back pockets of your pants for a moment. Again, you pressed your crotch against his hips, yearning for any kind of friction. At the same time, your hand wandered along his chest to the hem of his pants. Without looking, you opened his belt and the zipper of his bottoms.

He hissed when you grabbed his clothed dick through his underwear and his fingers dug into your sides. A few times you pumped his already hard shaft through the material. Then he moaned your name and you had never heard anything more perfect. The mere sound of his breathy, husky voice turned you on so much more than you had ever imagined.

“Fuck me, please,” you spoke, kissing him deeply. He hummed a needy yes against your lips and nodded. You climbed off him so you could lie down on the seats. He wriggled out of his pants and then helped you out of your own. When he lay down between your thighs and you felt his weight on top of you, it seemed like he had always belonged right there. It had been a hauntingly long journey, but now that you knew the end of it, you accepted all the sleepless nights you had experienced.

“Hold on,” you said, finding your bag on the floor to reach for the condom inside. He hummed a thank you as he ripped the pack and rolled the rubber over his stiff member. His fingertips teased the inside of your thighs, while he pressed open mouthed kisses onto your neck. A drawn out moan of agreement left your lips and momentarily, your eyes shut in the bliss of anticipation.

“You look so beautiful in the moonlight,” he said. His fingers run through your folds, collecting the wetness. You couldn’t help but whimper at the contact, and maybe also slightly because his words made your heart swell in the most marvelous way possible. Through flattering eyelids, you watched his stupidly handsome features as he curled his fingertips against your clit. All of you wanted more, but you only managed to moan his name in pleasure.

“You ready?” he asked, and you weren’t sure if you brain had even processed the amount of rapture he was causing you – but of course you were. You had been for years.

“Yes,” you said. Just for a moment, he run the tip of his cock through your wet folds. When he finally entered you, you realized you had been holding your breath – now it came out in a relieved sigh. He groaned at the mere sensation of filling you up, and when you opened your eyes to look at him it almost made you dizzy in admiration. Gradually, he thrusted into you, hips fitting against yours like two puzzle pieces finally united.

As he picked up the pace, you moaned in surprise but more in agreement. You felt his hand on yours and linked your fingers. Other men had made you feel good before – but only now you realized how true those statements from women were, when they said that nothing was like sleeping with the one you were in love with. The mixture of pleasure and the way you mooned over his whole being was a lot to take in. But it would never be too much. He was perfect for you. When you threw your head back you spotted the full moon and the brightest stars in the sky, trying to outshine each other.

He hit a spot inside of you that made you arch your back off the seats. Tightly, you shut your eyes and squeezed his hand.

“Oh my- You feel so good,” you moaned. When you felt the tip of his nose brush against yours, you opened your eyes. They met his galaxy eyes, and his mouth was parted slightly. You could barely breathe at the way he looked at you. When would anyone else ever see you in this way? It didn’t matter, you only wanted him either way.

He reached for the back of your thigh, lifting your leg slightly. The different angle felt even better, making you whimper and grab the hair at the nape of his neck, desperate for somewhere to hold on to. He groaned when you pulled his hair a little, and you smirked. You could barely wait to find out all the other things he liked and wanted to do to you in the future. But for now, you weren’t in a rush. It had been a long time since you had felt so at peace and full of happiness. Time was nonexistent right then. All you knew were his soft lips on your jaw and the way his perfect cock was making you see a blur of stars in front of your eyelids.

“I’m gonna- come,” you whimpered.

“Hmm…me too,” he groaned. “Let go for me, baby.”

His hand came in contact with your clit, feverishly rubbing the sensitive nub. The nickname he had called you would have made your cheeks heat up, had they not already been that way from the intensity of your emotions. Your stomach tightened and you only wanted to pull him closer to you.

He reached his high shortly before you did. A few curses fell off his lips as you felt him twitch inside of you, hips moving in sharp thrusts. Even if you had wanted to look at him, it was impossible for you to keep your eyes open, as his fingers still worked their magic on you. His last thrusts were hard and short, but they sent you over the edge too. Just as he pulled out, you met your climax. It was like falling but knowing there was a pair of gentle arms right there to catch you, so you didn’t have to be scared. You moaned his name, and this time he was actually here to hear it. Your chest pressed against his, foreheads touching, your legs tightened around his waist from sensitivity. After slowing down, he removed his fingers from your center completely.

Together, you lay in silence trying to catch your breaths and clear your heads. You scooted over a little, so he could balance his body on his side next to you. Light as a feather, his fingers brushed over your lips, before he bent down and kissed you again. This time it was a long kiss, with less need but even more passion. For what felt like the hundredth time, you questioned reality. Almost as if to check if it really was him, you stroked over his cheek and gazed up at him. But he was right there. Your best friend. Now more than your best friend. Through the opened crack of the car window you made out the crashing waves that caressed the cliffs underneath you two. Mingled with your song playing from the car’s speakers, the mysterious noise seemed to pick you up and tell you “Look at what you’ve been through, only one last time, then put it behind you. You’re where you’re supposed to be, now.”

#also yes the title doesn't have anything to do with it but it's from Lorde's song Louvre which i adore!! #and this is cheesy as hell BYE #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #bts smut #bts scenarios #got7 smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #oneus smut #onlyoneof smut #ikon smut #btob smut #day6 smut #pentagon smut #optional bias #optional bias smut #txt smut #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #astro smut #imfact smut #vixx smut #cravity smut #a.c.e smut #monsta x smut #monsta x scenarios #nct scenarios