#Star you cheeky lad

[doctor-who-war-doctor]

Happily Ever After

Wish (2023)

#disney #wish disney #wish movie #star #star wish #HIDDEN MICKEY #Star you cheeky lad #lol anyways #yall ive been really enjoying putting these together i am no longer in the burnout pbase of this project! #gif #gifs #wish spoilers #disney wish spoilers #spoilers #wish

[slytherinslut0]

lorenzo berkshire • run.

summary: how do you define the man who embodies contradiction? a loaded gun wrapped in sunshine, a bloodhound cloaked in golden fur, a cheeky wink masking a deadly glare?

after some pushing, you realize you’ve always known exactly what kind of man Lorenzo Berkshire is. and perhaps, you also realize, he’s the most dangerous kind of all.

word count: 5.9k

warnings: forced proximity trope, SMUT, multiple orgasm, teasing, PIV, fingering, a chase through the forest, jealousy (slight weaponizing of mattheo), established boundaries entirely consensual, dark!enzoberkshire (meh), left the door open for a part two considering i never elaborate on where they’re going.

Lorenzo Berkshire. He is what he is, until he isn't.

Growing up, you always held your perceptions of Berkshire close. A sweet boy with a puppy dog stare, eyes like liquid amber holding the gentle warmth of a summer's dawn. Innocent lad with a cheeky smile that radiated like sunlight on a dew-kissed meadow--simply too damn nice for his own good. A walking ray of sunshine, wouldn't harm a fly with a feather.

He was what he was, until he wasn't.

You're not entirely certain when the switch flipped, when he chose to reveal his true self to the school and no longer cared to conceal it. You suspect it was around fifth year, perhaps during one of the winter months. You recall hearing it before seeing it, albeit faintly—the rush of footsteps, the sound of flesh meeting stone, the sickening thud of fist against face.

And when your eyes finally caught up to your ears, you recall yourself silently thanking the stars for the gracious gift of karma, and you'll never forget the silent exchange you shared with Berkshire as he was finally pulled, nay dragged, up and away from your cheating, scumbag ex.

He is what he is, until he isn't.

From this, the question still stood to linger: what precisely is Lorenzo Berkshire? These days, if anyone is to know, it should be you. You've spent ample time in close quarters with him, enough to dare attempt an answer. Moments etched in memory, his breath warm against your neck, his fingers tracing the contours of your skin, his lips mapping the crease of your thighs; among others. You suspect that, more than anyone else, you could provide a solid insight into the truth of this enigmatic man.

And yet, the answer eludes description.

How does one configure the blueprint of a man who embodies contradiction—a loaded gun wrapped in sunshine, a bloodhound cloaked in golden fur, a cheeky wink masking a deadly glare? He defies categorization, existing at the intersection of light and shadow, warmth and danger, innocence and intensity.

Understanding Lorenzo Berkshire, in his entirety, would mean subjecting yourself to the dualities of his nature—standing in both the path of his aggression and the shelter of his protection. It necessitates penetrating beneath his skin to fathom the intricacies of his design and ascending above to attain a panoramic view.

It entails becoming his adversary before earning the privilege of his friendship, which is precisely where you falter—because how do you become an enemy to a man who's already been silently protecting you for years? Who not only touches but worships you with reverence? Who smiles like sin as he kneels before your altar? Who, despite any provocation that may test his patience, has never and would never suggest severing ties?

Perhaps, you decide, the closest you can get is by first figuring out how to get under his skin.

——

"Enz," the word's a hiss, slipping through breathless cords. "You're moving too fast."

Enzo's response is terse, a nod accompanied by a faint smirk that dances across his lips before he continues on, unabated.

"Noted." The word carries zero sincerity.

You fight a groan, frustration simmering beneath your skin. Yes, you anticipated his lacklustre response, yet it did little to quell the mounting annoyance within you, creeping toward heights of Everest.

"Enz--where are we even going?"

It's pathetic really, your vocal inflection. A half-assed plea for a response you know you won't receive. He must detect it too, for all he offers in acknowledgment is a dry chuckle, effortlessly shoving a branch aside as he ducks beneath it. You groan, audibly this time, the chill wind cutting through you like a knife.

"Enzo," you beseech him, again, your voice a breeze lost in the vastness of the night, "please just slow your pace...talk to m-"

With clear reluctance Enzo pauses, abruptly, as though someone poured cement into his shoes. He casts a glance over his shoulder at you, his gaze piercing through the darkness like a beacon--brief and pulsing. You hardly have time to meet his eyes before he's moving again.

"We can't afford to slow down," is all he offers as he resumes his long strides. "Not now."

The urge to strangle him swells within you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf your sanity whole. How you curse the moment you offered to accompany him on this perilous journey. How you yearn to be back in the safety of your bed, cocooned in the warmth of the castle walls, far from the chaos that ensues when you entangle yourself with Slytherin boys and their penchant for trouble. Yet here you are, a prisoner of your own folly. By this point you're certain you'll never learn.

You huff your frustration. "Gods, Enzo."

Without giving him time to deflect, you quicken your steps and reach out, grasping his wrist, instantly acknowledging the tension in his skin beneath your touch. Then, in an instant, two eyes the colour of burnt honey pivot to lock onto yours, and you see it--that ferocity. Bees buzzing with anger at the sight of their spoil. It's there. It's always there.

He is what he is--

"We've been walking for fucking ever." As you exhale, the air swallows your breath. "I'm not going to help you if you won't reason with me. If you don't tell me where the hell we're going."

"Your word was given, angel," it's short, cautiously curt, but it's enough. His tone a velvet glove masking the steel beneath. "Wasn't it?"

"My word was given, but it was also contingent on trust." You survey your surroundings. Trees, bush, and Merlin knows what else. Your shoulders slouch. "And right now, that's in short supply."

He blinks, eyes floating up and over your head, a glimpse as fleeting as twilight, before returning to meet your own. You see it again, swirling in his irises, though it's softened slightly by something you perceive as guilt. The winds howl, sucking air thin as the tension thickens, congealing in your throat.

"You know I'd never endanger you."

--until he isn't.

There's a waver in your gaze, torn between the desire to hold his sight and the temptation to descend on his lips. You don't miss the purity in his tone, a sweetness that saturates the honey in his eyes and leaves nothing but pure sugar lingering on your tongue. So saccharine it makes your teeth ache, yet you find yourself craving more.

At any other moment, you'd believe him. Now, far within the depths of the forbidden forest, the circumstances allude it.

"You doubt me," his voice cuts through the silence like a blade through silk. He couldn't miss your hesitation in a dream. You feel his skin turn to ice beneath your touch. "Since when?"

Doubting Enzo feels foreign, a betrayal of self. It's no secret that the man is troublesome, usually up to no good--but you've always known, even as his teeth graze your pulse and his hands encircle your throat, that the last thing he'd ever do is hurt you. This isn't your character. Tonight's different, and you know he senses it.

"Since you started coming out here in the middle of the night," your voice is a whisper, releasing his wrist before you could feel the inevitable leap of his pulse. "Since I had to bribe Mattheo with damn near half my worth to get him to tell me why."

One thing for certain about Lorenzo Berkshire, it's that he should come with a warning. A word of advice not to be deceived by his soft appearance. All puppy cuddles with sharply fangs oozing venom. A caution to approach with the wariness reserved for handling hazardous materials. An infomercial on how his embrace is as deceiving as it is lethal, a trap set with a smile and an eager wag of the tail.

Except, now, there was no smile. No wag. Just the trap.

"You bribed Mattheo." He repeated, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder, entirely disregarding the beginning portion of your statement. "And just what exactly did you have to offer to loosen his tongue?"

A lightbulb burst to life in your brain. A waking sun. A brazen flame. The answer, so glaringly obvious in retrospect, had been within reach all along. What rouses a dormant dragon from slumber? What pokes a sleeping bear to wake? It is the threat to their belongings—the primal instinct to protect what is theirs at all costs. To perceive any potential threat and squash it at it source.

This was your moment.

You could insinuate that you tempted Mattheo with your own tongue in exchange, perhaps alongside the opportunity to mark your knees with bruises. You could say you offered your body, your dignity, anything that might garner a reaction. Of course, the truth was far more mundane; it only took a meagre 30 galleons and a pinky promise to loosen Mattheo's lips. And he didn't even tell you anything worth knowing.

But if you aimed to stoke the fires of Lorenzo Berkshire's wrath and draw his fury upon yourself, this appeared to be the sole route remaining. For throughout all the years of knowing him, the one consistent trigger that never failed to ignite his fury was any hint of a threat...against you.

But before you could comprehend the lapse in your response, Enzo stepped closer, your name hissed through clenched teeth. "What'd you give him?"

Your heart thrashed like a caged animal. The wind billowing through the depleted space between your bodies, tousling his hair in the night. Did the forest always sound like this? Didn't he just say you couldn't afford to slow down?

Your gaze meets the air over his shoulder. "You're deflecting my question."

"And you, mine," another step forward, and you take one back. You can't help but notice his fingers twitch at his sides. "Why?"

Have you added astuteness to your Enzo observation list? If not, it must be at the top. He's always been a master at unmasking your bluffs with a single, cutting retort, dripping from the teeth with condescension.

Your eye twitches. "You're just full of questions tonight, aren't you?"

He doesn't find your deflection half as amusing as you do. "Only because I'm being met with evasive answers.”

"Huh." You cock an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. "Nosey and entitled."

"Hm," he cracks a grin at that. Purely to spite you, you're sure. Purely to make your pulse skyrocket. "I prefer curious and expectant."

"Quite a pair of traits." Tension thickens in your throat. You force yourself to swallow it. "You know what they say about curiosity, don't you?"

His grin widens. "I'm certain you'll enlighten me."

You peer at him, your eyes searching for warmth in the dim of the forest but finding none, like bees seeking nectar in barren fields. You square your shoulders, trying your damnedest to ignore the distant howling sounds coming from the forests depths.

"It's a tale as old as time, Enz, I'm sure you've heard it." A branch snaps underfoot, the sound jolting you back to reality, but you swallow the instinctual yelp that threatens to escape your lips. "Curiosity killed the cat."

Before you can even process it, Enzo moves with lightning speed, seizing your wrist just as you reel from the inevitable impact of your back colliding with an ancient oak behind you. Pulling you into him, his face moves dangerously close to yours, your eyes converging, honey pouring over your skin, sucking you in like quicksand.

"You know there's another part to it, don't you?" his voice cuts through the air like a dagger, sharp and precise. He waits for you to settle before he continues. "Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back."

That bastard.

"It doesn't matter what I gave him," you force yourself out of hesitation, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart, the tingling sting on your spine. "I'm still here with you, aren't I?"

His silence is telling. Bottomless pits pin you down, an anvil in influence alone.

And then he breaks it. "It matters to me."

"Why?" you press, your curiosity piqued by his insistence. You're trying to drag this on for as long as you can but his intensity has you stumbling. Words flow like water. "Who cares, really? I mean-"

"Because," he slices your sentence in two. The latter dying from lack of purpose.

Your lips thin to a pursed line. You blink up at him through lidded eyes, mouth opening to speak but nothing comes out as he leans in closer, so close you can practically taste his breath. He'd never been possessive before, not like this. But perhaps you never gave him a reason to be. You've always been his, unquestioned, unsanctioned. Despite the lack of title. You know he’s only acting this way because you’re deflecting. Your heart barrels into your throat, desperate to claw its way out.

"Because I said so," he continues, his grip on your wrist tightening with each passing moment, his nails leaving indentations in the bark beside your head. "Because, whatever dept you owe him, I'll help you absolve it. Professionally."

A sickening grin creeps across your lips, and his eyes are glued to it. You're skinned raw under his gaze, his pupils so piercing you feel them in the marrow of your bones. You observe the subtle flicker of his tongue, moistening his lips as he gleams down at you--your saviour from above, your dormant dragon, your slumbering bear.

He is what he is.

"I don't need your saving, Enzo," your voice is a breath, as soft as a phoenix feather. As flaming as one too. "I need your honesty."

"My honesty." He repeats as he leans in closer, his hand shifting to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You shudder under his possession, his lips grazing against your jaw like fire and ice, simultaneously scorching and soothing. "I'll give you my honesty, angel."

You sigh as you hear the unctuous in that tone. You know he isn't going to give you what you're asking for, but he'll give you enough to quench your thirst. Classic fucking Berkshire. He releases his grip on your wrist, replacing it with a firm hold on your hip, anchoring you to reality.

"My honesty is I knew you'd try to come tonight, and I only let you because at least here, at my side, I can protect you." Warm lips brush feather-light against your lobe. "My honesty, is if Riddle puts a fucking hand on you, we're going to have a problem."

As the last few words spill from his lips, you feel as though you've got a sugar high, his words oozing with saccharine sweetness, like indulging in a bowl of chocolates or sipping from a concentrated cauldron of peach juice. They have a cloying effect, threatening to rot your teeth and stain your tongue. Just like his eyes.

And it's right then, that you come to a startling realization. You've always known exactly what kind of man Lorenzo Berkshire is. He's not one to overwhelm with his presence, but rather a relentless force, a perpetual energy that never fades. A silent protector, yet also a silent aggressor. He's a master of masking his anger, of controlling it with a precision that borders on chilling, only bringing it out to protect what's his.

Perhaps, you realize, he's the most dangerous kind of man of all.

"Always acting as my shield," you can barely get the words out, your voice soft and reverent, as though speaking in prayer. "My silent knight."

"Mm." Enzo's lips curve into a sardonic smile against your temple. "Only fitting for an angel."

His hands roam up your hips with a possessive urgency, pulling you closer to him until there's barely an inch of space between your bodies. His face buries into your hair, his breath stirring the strands as he holds you close, fingers digging into your waist.

"I know you didn't offer him what's mine," it's not a question, but a statement of absolute conviction, spoken with the confidence of a seer who reads the future unraveling before them. "I know I fuck you too good for that."

"You're right, Enz," you concede, lids fluttering shut, folding faster than a lawn chair in tornado season. How could you not, when he's exerting this kind of influence over you? "I didn't."

You still had no idea why the two of you were out here. And at this point, it was hardly an afterthought.

"Then what's your play here, angel," he growls through a groan, a ferocious intensity ignited in the way he's squeezing you, pressing your hips back against the tree. "What the fuck are you trying to do to me."

Your lips part, poised to release the words swirling within your mind, when a sound pricks your ears. Not a sound of your own making. Something distant, yet distinct.

In an instant, your eyes snap open, but the darkness shrouds any clear view, offering only faint glimpses of looming branches and rustling leaves. Enzo remains oblivious, seemingly consumed by the frustrated desire you've so eagerly drawn from him.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, a futile attempt to push him back. "Enzo—"

"Are you trying to test me, angel?" Deep as the forest depths. As dark as them, too. His hands leave your hips and find your wrists, pinning them back against the bark above your head. "Make me jealous, yeah?"

There's another sound, now, drawing closer. You blink up at the complicated man before you, fluttering eyelashes fanning the crease of your lid. Bark burns into your skin as his intensity increases, body sweating under the heat of his eyes as they drip down at you, fever rising by the second— fear and arousal mingling as one.

"Enz-" you hardly have time to breathe before his lips are on your neck, and he's sucking. Hard. "Fuck."

Adrenaline surges you, rushing your lungs with rapid breath, sparks of lust snapping over your skin. Enzo has vanished, replaced by a storm cloud brewing with ominous intent, his once collected demeanour now a loaded gun with a cocked trigger. He was primed to annihilate, eager to erupt. You cursed yourself for pushing him to this brink, at this precise moment, as an impending threat loomed closer with unmistakable certainty.

A gasp escaped your lips as Enzo's teeth sank into your neck, branding you with purple pleasured marks of his possession.

"Enzo, damn it-" your voice is ragged, his lips trailing to the other side of your throat, the hold on your wrist growing tighter. You had to warn him. You didn't want him to stop. Your thoughts jumbled, your brain grappling with what to articulate first, settling on the throbbing pain in your wrists. "Gentle—"

Enzo groans against your neck, rolling his hips into you, fucking fire over every available expanse of flesh.

"Gentle." His breath tickles your neck, your thighs trembling, seeking friction as your hips move in rhythm with his. "I'll fuck you right here against this tree and the last fucking thing I'll be is gentle." A plea balloons in you, knocking teeth, choking. He senses it--a grin crawling across his lips in response. "That's what you wanted after all, isn't it angel?"

Nothing could stop the moan from fleeing your lips as he smirks against your pulse. Not even Merlin himself. Gripping the back of your head, Enzo crashes his lips to yours--hurried and unrelenting, the plush entirety soft and sweet and insatiable against your own. As quick as a lightening strike, you're drowning in his sugar, another realization settling on you like an encroaching dawn just how much of a taste you've developed for it. For him.

Then, he pulls away, breathing a command against your lips. "Run."

Your gut bottoms out--fear instantly drawn to the forefront of your ignorantly blissed brain--and before you can catch your breath or summon your stamina or attempt to direct some blood flow from your cunt back up to your head he's already propelling you forward, dragging you through the forest with a grip that could crush steel. Roots and branches blur past, the forest a chaotic whirlwind of greens and browns below your feet.

And it feels like hours, perhaps even years of running and dodging before Enzo finally slows his pace. You're both panting, gasping, chests heaving, but his urgency perseveres, gaze scanning the clearing as if in search of something, and then you see it, too—an old greenhouse tucked behind a few large trees, clearly abandoned.

Before you can process it, he's already on the move again, dragging you toward it.

He whips open the door and practically hurls you inside—the aged wood creaking on rusty hinges as it swings wide. His eyes, sharp as flint, dart back to survey the clearing you just fled from, and whatever he sees there seems to set his nerves on edge because before you can even blink he's striding toward you, his grip resuming its vice around your wrist as he pulls you toward a small supply closet.

You feel like a ragdoll. It's starting to get real fucking old. "Enzo-"

The words dissolve on your tongue when in an instant you find yourself inside the minuscule expanse of the closet, shelves stacked with gardening supplies, Enzo's breath pouring over the back of your neck, his body so fucking close to yours you can't take a breath without touching him. Reaching over you, he shuts the door and locks the two of you inside, engulfing you in a darkness so thick you can almost feel it clinging to your skin.

Then, there's silence, and suddenly you're aware of every inch of your existence, from the breath leaving your lungs to the sweat crawling behind your knees. Enzo shifts, as if uncomfortable, his crotch pressed firm against your ass and you can almost taste the intensity radiating from his eyes as his hands grip your waist, pulling you back against him with a force that makes breathing normally a distant dream.

"Poachers." He mutters against your neck.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you process his words, the gravity of the situation settling over you like a suffocating blanket. Poachers. You try to steady your breathing, but it's like trying to contain a storm within a teacup.

Your throats arid. "What do we do?"

You shift to adjust your stance, the sensation of Enzo's erratic exhales against your neck making your entire body tingle--and at your movements, he huffs, his grip on your waist tightening, his fingers pressing into your skin with an urgency that matches the pounding of your heart.

"We wait." He murmurs, his voice rough, like gravel underfoot. "Stop moving."

You need to shut up, but you can't. "And if they come in here? If they find u-"

Enzo's hand clamps over your mouth, silencing your words with a firm yet gentle grip, embodying the duality of his character. Strong yet soft. Cold yet warm. Your pulse quickens, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. Only Lorenzo Berkshire could evoke such contradictory sensations, stirring arousal in the face of danger.

"Shh," he cooes against your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Trust me."

Lungs hitching, you nod, though the gesture is barely perceptible beneath his palm. He doesn't free your mouth, however, instead choosing to tease your earlobe with his teeth, his free hand on your abdomen, holding you tight against him.

"You can do that, right, angel?" his tone as soft as feathers, a gentle coaxing that wraps around you like a warm blanket. "You trust me."

There's that inflection again. As right as rain. You know he's fully fucking aware that the way he's speaking to you is calming you down, just as he knows you trust him implicitly. You wouldn't have been out here in the first place if you didn't.

And just as you go to nod, to give him the best answer you can provide to his non-question, his lips descend, claiming your pulse, his grip over your mouth intensifying as he attacks it--slow and silent and determined, your back arching and your lids fluttering in response.

"Mhm, you know I've got you," his free hand trails up your stomach, slowing just as his thumb reaches the underwire of your bra. "Always have."

In defiance of your good judgment, you clench, a shiver of longing fluttering over you. You groan against his hand, his growing desire pushing against your ass as evident and desperate as his movements. Darkness cloaks the closet, stealing your sense of sight yet all the others are overwhelmed by him. He's all-consuming, everywhere, everything—

"But this," five poised fingers start to glide down your stomach, his lips shifting back to your ear. "Is what you get for testing me."

Your skin jumps at the caress of his fingers tracing deceptively timid over your hips, thighs, like he hasn't done this before, like it's care and not punishment. His favourite oxymoron: the gentlest torture, the cruelest succour. You shudder, arching into him, searching for friction, and he tsks you, shaking his head.

"You wanted gentle, didn't you, angel?" The tease in his tone makes you want to choke him. Sort of makes you want him to choke you, too. "Consider this my version of it. Be good."

His fingers slither under the band of your leggings, a slow, torturous crawl toward the epicenter of your longing. Your hands grasp for purchase in the darkness, but there's nothing substantial to hold onto, just like the ephemeral sensation of his touch. He's both intimidating and unnervingly gentle, leading you to the brink of ruin with calculated precision.

You whimper under his palm, hips jerking toward his touch, desperate for more, but it only causes him to go slower. He coos another command to be quiet, a teasing taunt dripping with wicked delight, and you can practically feel the satisfaction pouring from his lips. He's laser-focused on unraveling you, on making you utterly undone before giving you what you crave most.

When his index finger grazes over your clit, you audibly groan, head falling back against his shoulder.

"You can't rush penance, angel," his mouth opens in a smile against your ear, though it feels more like barred teeth. That smile is as much deadly as it is pretty. "Let it simmer."

Every nerve in your body is on high alert, trembling with the intensity of his touch. You're swallowing air with a moan stuck in your throat; too dry, you realize, and feel like you're choking when he starts to move lower, two fingers shifting your panties to the side and slicking through your folds.

"So wet." He's barely audible now, even as he's breathing the words into your eardrums. "Mm, so fucking wet."

Before you can prepare for it, those same two fingers inch inside you, and curl. Your eyes roll, his palm pulling your head back tight against his shoulder as he slowly finger fucks deep into you--in and out in perfect rhythm, the sloppy sounds emanating from your cunt filling the dark, steaming space and making your skin prickle with hot shame—you're fucking dripping for him.

He growls, low in his chest, and instinctively your legs spread wider, inviting him deeper, inviting him to inebriate you further. You're caught in the perfect balance of his contradiction, teetering on the edge between disciple and devil. He worships you in one breath and ruins you in the next. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Mine." Is all he mutters, before there's a sound outside the door, and you both freeze.

Footsteps.

Almost immediately, you're ripped from the derogatory haze you'd just found yourself in—your body stiffens, tension coiling through your limbs like icy tendrils, turning your blood to frost. Enzo's fingers slow, though they remain inside you, adjusting ever-so-slightly to avoid the slick sounds your cunt makes every time he moves. You feel his teeth tease your ear, his silent way of telling you to calm down. That he's got you.

The footsteps draw closer, and there's no mistaking it—someone, most definitely multiple someone's, are lurking just outside the door—in search, of you.

But before you can even entertain the thought, before it has a chance to sink in and settle in the recesses of your mind, Enzo crooks his fingers against a spot that sends sparks flying behind your eyelids, his thumb applying just enough pressure to your clit to send you hurtling into a realm of sensation he introduces you to regularly, but not one you were prepared to face in this moment, under these circumstances.

You grit your teeth, the urge to scream clawing at the back of your throat like a caged animal desperate for freedom. Enzo is ruthless, merciless, driving you to the very edge and daring you to jump--driving you to the edge of sanity and forcing you to suppress the tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume you whole.

The footsteps grow louder, veer closer, before they slow. Before they stop.

It's cataclysmic, catastrophic—a blaze raging in an open battlefield, a hellfire during open warfare. You hardly have a second to comprehend the sheer insanity of what you're engaged in before Enzo's pace intensifies and he yanks your head back against his shoulder with even more force, to the point you're certain the back of your skull will leave an indent on his skin.

His lips brush against your ear, practically daring you to cum— daring you to keep resisting.

"It's clear," a voice rings out, neither yours nor Enzo's. Footsteps pick back up and draw further away. "Let's move out."

And then, it's over. A weight lifts off your shoulders, a tidal wave crashing over you. Your body erupts, convulses, squeezing around Enzo's fingers and trembling against him as your climax charges through you like a raging bull, unstoppable and overwhelming.

You scream behind his palm, knees threatening to give out from under you, the gates of heaven themselves coming into clear fucking view.

"Good girl." He husks in your ear, working you through your high, his chest rising and falling against your back, the hunger evident in his words. "My little angel was so fucking good...I think she deserves a reward, doesn't she?"

You nod, the fervent desire for more evident in the desperate plea that crawls past your lips, only to be muffled by his palm. Enzo's groan reverberates against your ear, his erection painfully hard against your ass. With a swift motion, he withdraws his hand from your lips, unlocking the door and shoving it open, propelling you forward with a commanding grip on your hips.

He wastes no time in pushing you up against an old wooden table, the rough surface biting into your skin as he yanks your leggings down your thighs. His hand finds its way into your hair, gripping a fistful and pulling your head back toward his mouth, his lips hungry and insistent against your own. Meanwhile, his free hand works quickly to undo his belt, his urgency evident as he prepares to take what he desires.

"Did you like that, angel?" He breathes against your panting mouth, his eyes barely open, his belt hitting the ground at his feet. "You like what I fucking did to you?"

"Yes—" you're choked by a gasp as he slicks his length between your thighs. "Gods-fuck, yes!"

"Yeah, you did. Fuck, I should have edged you, I shouldn't have let you cum," his voice is wanton, despite himself. You're not even sure if he knows what he's saying. "But I can't fucking help myself. I fucking love ruining you."

He positions himself at your entrance, the tension in the air thick as molasses. With a single swift motion, he plunges into you, a symphony of pleasure and pain ripping through you as he fills you completely in one long, deep thrust. You gasp, your nails digging into the wooden surface beneath you as his grip in your hair tightens, the other latched onto your hip to hold you steady.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, breath hot on your jawline. His hand shifts to grasp your jaw, pulling your lips back to his. "Always so fucking tight for me."

You can only whimper in response, his pace ruthless, and unhinged and unpredictable as always. His fervour is all the reminder of how you got here in the first place; the teeth, the force, the grip on your waist. There's a rough sound he makes in your mouth that you taste more than you hear.

He is what he is, until he isn't. Until he's someone else completely.

You're clutching at the desk and screaming into his mouth as his fingers find your clit again and amidst the onslaught you're hit by the realization that this man is everything—simultaneously overwhelming and subtle, too much yet not enough. He's a feeling that engulfs you, swallowing you whole until it fills your lungs, leaving you choking on the intensity of it all. Your lips move against his in perfect synchrony, your eyelashes fluttering with each powerful smack of his hips as he drives himself deep inside you, over and over and over again.

"Enz—" you sob through the kiss but he doesn't give you enough air to do it.

He pushes harder, a rasp at the back of his throat, some carnal thing. When he withdraws his lips from yours, his brows are furrowed in concentration. There's a fine lustre of sweat on his forehead, stray strands pulled across gleaming honeyed eyes.

"Cum," you swear it's a plea. You hear the desperation as much as you feel it. "Cum for me."

Your head lulls back as shocks of pleasure course through your body, the coil snapped, addled through the ecstasy, barely conscious of the way his panted breaths hitch at the sight of you in his hands, soft-eyed and puddled for him, broken by his touch, stripped of all structure just to be held up by his own. The sight and feel of you erupting sends him over the edge, his groan rumbling against your temple.

"Fucking hell—" his hips stutter, his breath does too, his lashes fanning as he pours his cum deep inside you. "Fuck."

You sink against him as he finally comes to a slow, thighs numb and wet, one hand slipping dumbly from the desk and running up through your hair, pushing sticky strands back from your forehead. The second orgasm is an aftershock of the first, it takes forever to recover from it, and before you can even register the movements Enzo has already pulled out, done up his pants and is helping you pull yours back up your still-trembling thighs.

As you turn to face him, he pulls you in. You kiss lazily and softly. The room feels sheeted in static. The electricity lingers on both of you.

When he pulls back, you let the first thing in your mind slip past your teeth. "You're unbelievable, Enzo."

He smirks, wetting his lips before leaning down and planting a small peck on the top of your head. "I'm yours, angel."

Lorenzo Berkshire is what he is, and what he is, is yours.

#lorenzo berkshire #lorenzoberkshire #lorenzoberk #lorenzo berkshire smut #lorenzoberkshiresmut #lorenzo x reader #lorenzo #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire x you #enzoberkshiresmut #enzoberkshire #enzo berkshire smut #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo smut #enzo berkshire #enzo berk #slytherin boys #slytherinboys #harry potter #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #enzo x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheoriddle #slytherin #enzo berkshire imagine #louis patridge #tom riddle #theodore nott

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Reader loves Ghost, but so shy to tell her feelings, at the same time he also has feelings for the reader but hesitates to talk. They just stare each other, all day long.

At that point Soap to Ghost: Just say that you like her!

Also to reader: Just say that you like him!

Matchmaker Soap, approved 👌🏻

Ayeee! Yes, I love this. Hope you enjoy this one🩷🙈

Soap, The Matchmaker

Simon Riley x Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of nervousness, fluff

"Lass, just tell him how you feel!” Soap pleaded with you. "You stare at the lad enough, surely you've got the confidence to tell him."

"Hell no. Johnny, he barely talks to me as is. I'd just end up embarrassing myself." You smiled sadly, waiving away your friends' attempts to have you confess.

"He doesn't talk to you, because he's nervous! Trust me, he likes you too." Soap was growing desperate.

"It's okay, Johnny. I'll settle with admiring him from afar." You gave the Scot a pat on his shoulder before making your way to the bar for another beer.

Johnny groaned audibly and let his eyes drift over to where his Lieutenant was standing. Ghost always had his eyes on you whenever you were around him. Johnny couldn't possibly understand how you couldn't tell he was interested in you. The man was your literal shadow.

He stood up abruptly, and made his way over to Simon, a cheeky grin forming on his lips. "Hey, L.T."

Simon regarded him carefully as he moved his gaze from you. "Soap."

"Don't think I don't catch you staring at her." He nudged Ghost playfully. "You should try talking to her, tell her how you feel."

"No clue what you're talking about Sargeant."

"Away and bile yer heid. You and I both know you're fond of the lass." Soap chided, narrowing his eyes at his masked friend. "She might be fond of you too, you know, just probably hasn't got the courage to tell ye because you're scary as shite."

Ghost only grunted in response but felt his cheeks heating from under his mask. It was true. He was fond of you and had been for a long time. The issue was that he wasn't used to these feelings and frankly didn't know how to act.

Truth was that you made him nervous. Anytime he was around you, he'd get butterflies in his belly, and his tongue became molasses, unable to get any words out. He felt like a damn school boy with a crush for the first time.

He looked over to Johnny, to find the mohawked man already smiling at him. "Fuck off, Johnny."

"Love you too. L.T." Soap chuckled.

By the end of the night, Soap realized his efforts were in vain. The two of you clearly showed no inclination to tell each other how you felt, and the Scot felt he'd be doomed to watch you two skirt around your feelings forever.

Little did he know, Simon was mustering up the courage to ask you if he could walk you back to base.

~

"Y/N." You heard your voice being called from behind you at the bar, and you turned your head.

"Lieutenant." Your cheeks turned a light pink, flustered under the masked man's heavy stare. "What can I do for you?"

"I was.. going to head back to base. Was wondering if you'd care to join me." Ghost's heart was beating rapidly, his palms sweating. He was so goddamned nervous.

Your smile from his words could've lit up the entire room, and Ghost could've sworn he felt his heart stop. "I'd love to, sir."

He gave a small nod, before offering his arm to you. You wrapped your hand around his bicep, and let him lead the way back to base.

The walk back to base was long, and was filled with a comfortable silence for the better part of it.

When you were about halfway to base, Simon had cleared his throat. "Nice night out here."

You giggled at his attempt for small talk, and nodded your head. "It is. I love when I can see the stars. Makes you feel so small."

He turned his head to you, a smile forming on his lips, unbeknownst to you. "My mum used to say that when I was younger. Said we are all like specks of dust when it comes to the size of the universe."

"Smart woman." You smiled.

"That she was." Simon nodded, coming to a stop, and turning to you. "Hey."

You stopped alongside him, turning to him with a bemused expression. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just.." Simon felt like he was going to pass out. He could feel a bead of sweat dripping from his head, and his hands started to shake. "Had something I wanted to tell you."

You gave him a soft smile, and nodded your head to encourage him to continue. "Okay."

"Y/N. I can't.. bloody hell.." He fumbled for words, his tongue becoming thick in his mouth. "I cannot get you out of my head. You're always there. And hell, it frustrates the shit out of me."

Your eyes widened, and took a step back from him. "Oh…I'm sorry." You didn't know what else to say.

Simon, seeing the alarm in your eyes, immediately continued. "Fuck, no no not like that. That came out wrong. God I'm not good at this." He rubbed the back of his head nervously.

And then it hit you. He was trying to confess that he liked you. Johnny was right all along.

Your lips upturned slightly, and you moved closer to him, placing a hand softly on his arm. "I.. I can't get you out of my head either, Simon. You seem to have a permanent spot up here." You pointed to your head with a smile.

Simon felt all the weight on his shoulders fall at your words, his eyes lighting up. He didn't know what to say next. This was beyond his area of expertise… God he wished Johnny were here to tell him-

His thoughts cut short, as he felt your fingers dance at the bottom of his balaclava. You looked up to him questioning if it was okay to continue.

He gave a short nod, and you started to slowly lift up the edge of his mask, stopping it just below his nose. You didn't want to overstep anymore than you felt you already had. You saw his lips curve upward before he slowly leaned down toward you.

You met him halfway, and pressed your lips to his. His lips were rough, and chapped, but the kiss was incredibly gentle. He sighed deeply against your lips, and his hands ghosted on your hips.

Pulling away, he gave you a cheeky smile, before pulling off the rest of his mask. You let out a small gasp, as your eyes trailed over his features.

He was prettier than you ever could have imagined. Even with the scars and marks, he was the most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on. "You're so handsome, Simon."

You reached a hand out and placed it on his cheek. He nestled his head into your palm slightly, placing a kiss to your wrist.

He leaned down once more to capture your lips in his, this time fully resting his hands on your hips. "Think I owe Johnny a drink for this one. Mate helped me out." He chuckled as he pulled away breathless. He grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

"Think we both do. Who would've thought. Soap, the matchmaker."

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

A/N: Why do I want to write a smutty part two for everything😭😭😭😭😭

#cod imagine #simon riley imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader

[kittenintheden]

Right Side of My Neck

so yeah I did that. it's a 420 weed sex fic. let's go.

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Ori (female OC) Word Count: 1.8k Content: 18+, post-canon, established relationship, AU or possible future for NYS we don't know?, oral sex, PIV sex, mirror sex, stoned sex, recreational drug use, safe sane consensual.

AO3 Link

Ori reclines on a chaise in their shared flat and gazes out the window as dusk approaches, the last strips of orange-red glow fading on the horizon beyond the city’s rooftops. Her knees are folded up to her chest and she smiles, eyes half-lidded as she raises a hand-rolled cigarette to her mouth and takes another drag, holding it in her lungs for a few seconds before she parts her lips and lets the smoke flow out over them, spilling like a waterfall.

Stars begin to blink into the stretching black sky like someone’s poking holes through the dark to let the pinlight past.

From the other room, Astarion approaches in his loose casualwear, holding a silver goblet in each hand. He dangles one beside Ori’s shoulder and she reaches up with her free hand, taking it and smelling the contents. A rich, dry red. Her favorite.

“You always know the exact thing,” she says, raising her face to pay him an adoring smile.

He stands above her and strokes his fingers through her hair, tilting his head. “I know you. And I am glad for it.”

Ori hums, taking a sip of her wine before she sets it on the nightcast windowsill. She takes his hand and pulls him downward until he chuckles and sinks to his knees beside her, leaning in close to brush their noses together before he sits back and drinks from his own goblet.

“You,” he teases at a lilt. “Smell like devilweed.”

“Do I?” she teases back with a smirk, bringing the cigarette in for another light drag. She releases the smoke out of the side of her mouth. “Pity. That shit makes me so silly in the head.”

“Tragic,” he agrees sadly. “I do prefer you oh-so-serious.”

“I know, but it’s been such a long day,” she says. “Hasn’t it?”

He takes another drink. “Wouldn’t know. I just woke up.”

“Lazy little house lad,” Ori says. “Come here.”

Astarion lets her lift his chin and tilt his mouth toward hers. She sucks in a draw, embers glowing red in the dark, and holds it on her tongue. When she puts her thumb on his bottom lip, he lets her prise it open and blow the smoke into his mouth, punctuating it with a light lick followed by a kiss.

He could hold it for an eternity, really, but he doesn’t. When he breathes out, the smoke curls between them and fills the room with its resinous, sticky scent.

“Mmmm,” he says. “What was that for?”

“You’ve some catching up to do,” she says, placing the cigarette in his mouth. He takes a drag of his own and then removes it with two fingers, tapping it against a nearby tray and setting it aside, still burning.

“Budge up,” he says, crawling up on the chaise next to her. “The stars won’t watch themselves.”

She chuckles and turns back to the window, scooting in closer so he can lay behind her. Within ten minutes, he’s pressing soft kisses to her bare shoulder and stroking down the length of her arm with his fingertips, tracing the twining lines of her tattoos to her wrists and back up again. He wriggles in tighter, murmuring lightly as he buries his face in her curls.

“Why do you always smell so good?” he groans beside her ear.

Ori shakes with giggles, her nose wrinkled up in delight. “That was quick.”

“You know what that shit does to me,” he purrs, nipping her gently on the ear before he reaches a hand around to tilt her face toward him so he can kiss her, licking languidly into her mouth to taste the weed and wine on her tongue.

She leans her head to the side to suck lightly along his neck. “I might have counted on it, admittedly.”

“Cheeky,” he breathes as he hooks his fingers into her loose trousers and pulls them down over her hips. “I like it.”

“I…” Ori cups his jaw in her hand and guides him in for a rolling wave of a kiss. “... like your mouth.”

He grins and lays his weight across her, shifting to one side so he can reach out over her head to pick up the smoldering roach, and takes a hit out of the side of his mouth before replacing it. He holds Ori’s eye as he moves down her body and stops where her split shirt lies open, exposing her from the ribcage down. Astarion tilts his head barely to one side, curls his tongue, and purses his lips, shaping the smoke as it flows along the dip between Ori’s ribs and folds back on itself.

Ori watches him briefly disappear behind the cloud as he laps at the skin below her navel in an open-mouthed kiss, moaning softly while he moves his mouth down to the crux of her thighs. He doesn’t even bother with pretense, his skilled tongue finding all her favorite places like he has her mapped from memory. She arches and whines, her thighs clamping around his ears as she reaches her hands down to tangle into his curls.

The devilweed twines through their blood, making everything go dilated and stretched taut. Every touch a caress, every stroke a spark. Astarion lights her up with lips and tongue, unable to stop grinning against her as he loses himself in touch and taste, scent and sound. His fingers reach along the outer edge of her thigh and he scratches over the skin there, eliciting a cry from Ori above him.

He furrows his brow and dips his other hand between his legs, running a palm over his hardened length, and oh, that’s nice, but that’s not…

Astarion loosens his bindings for some relief and returns his attentions fully. Ori’s wrapped one leg entirely around the back of his neck and her head’s thrown back as she cries out her pleasure. She’s been riding the swell for such a long, lingering moment, and he does something phenomenal, something like a firm stroke and soft flick, and she comes beautifully.

He doesn’t stop, even when she’s shaking around him. The fingers in his hair tighten, but she doesn’t pull him away. Time slows and all he knows is the smell of her and the taste of her and her thighs embracing him.

He makes her come again, then once more for good measure.

“Gods, enough,” Ori gasps, struggling to sit up and pulling him up by the shirt and using her hands and her bare feet and whatever else she can to help him disrobe above her.

Astarion feels her palms run up his torso from waist to chest and he shuts his eyes and lolls his head forward, her touch leaving a lasting stripe of pleasure wherever it goes. He barely registers it while she maneuvers him back onto one of the large cushions and slides off the side for a better angle.

Then he feels her mouth on his cock and all is right. Astarion arches himself back onto the cushions and sighs, spreading his legs and looking down the length of his body to see Ori flick her eyes up at him while she takes him, her lips so soft and sweet over his hardened length.

She was always beautiful in sunlight, and she’s beautiful still in starlight.

“Salen arael,” he says, swallowing around the dryness in his mouth.

Ori shutters her eyes and hums around him and it’s like feeling music set to the tune of lust. Astarion rolls his eyes back and smiles lazily, focusing on the indescribable pleasure of her mouth and the giddy joyous rush it is to love her. Both sides move together inside him, a coin spinning and spinning on its edge. 

She gazes up at him as her tongue glides along his skin and she sees everything he never wanted her to, so long ago.

A man completely undone, his carefully managed hair askew and hanging loose in his eyes from sleep and sex, shirt come loose and hanging about his shoulders, eyes lidded and adoring, limbs heavy with the assurance of safety.

Ori takes him deep and takes her time pulling back and away. Without even needing to communicate it, Astarion is pulling her up by the wrists and turning her around, hands scrabbling at her hips as he guides her down onto his lap. She reaches between their legs to hold him steady while she sinks down onto him and they both moan out their want as she takes it all and their hips press flush.

Astarion would like it very much if he had the mental fortitude for a clever line or two, but at present, the best he’s got is “fuck with you very good,” which he doesn’t feel is up to his usual standard. Instead, he reaches around to cup her breast as he lets his body take over, rolling up into her and melting, melting.

When she reaches around behind her so she can wrap her hand about the nape of Astarion’s neck, Ori cracks her eyes open as she pants from the sensations washing over her and spots herself in the mirror across the way. Her shirt laid fully open, one breast bouncing a little more than the other as her hips rock upward, compelled by an invisible force.

“Ah fuck, that’s hot,” she gasps.

“Huhn?” Astarion grunts in question from where his face is buried in the crook of her neck as he fucks her.

“Don’t stop,” she responds.

He doesn’t. They fall into a slow, rhythmic rock, moving in tandem and enjoying one another, their minds and bodies in a relaxed sort of flow.

The impending promise of orgasm begins to prove too tempting to resist soon enough. Astarion wraps his arms about her torso and kisses at her neck, trailing one hand down between her legs.

Ori laughs, the sound achingly familiar. “Hells, four? You’re asking four?”

“Four is an excellent number,” he gasps. “Humor me. Soon.”

She lolls back against him and lets his careful fingers work one final reward from her.

Ori’s groan is long and low as she shudders from core outward, the heat of her warming him where he’s buried inside her. Astarion sighs out his rapidly approaching peak.

With effort, Ori turns her head to press her mouth against his ear and says, “Come inside.”

He presses hard up into her and holds her in place with his hands on her hips as he goes rigid and then shudders with a groan that’s one part incredible relief and one part disdain at a horrible pun.

Their rocking slows and he stays wrapped around her for a minute or two while they tease one another with aftershocks now and again.

“That joke is so bloody stupid,” Astarion croaks at her without moving, his head resting against her shoulder.

“Works every time, though, doesn’t it?” she teases.

He grumps noncommittally as he rolls them both back onto the chaise.

#astarion smut #bg3 smut #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion x female oc #astarion x original female character #astarion x f!tav #kitten writes #not your sweetheart

[etherealising]

happy happy 1k yay!! idk if you still write for jaime tartt BUT i love the thought of him being obsessed with someone who works in the building… maybe the team’s pt and he’s always in their office with a “sore” knee or something like that but only so he can hang out and flirt with them 😫

bestie…the scream i scrumpt when i saw you in my inbox requesting my writing i damn near cried!!! but also the jamie tartt brainrot you awoke in me is insane, i went through a whole series rewatch and now i have jamie tartt edits saved 🫣. i struggled a bit to capture jamie’s essence/personality but otherwise i hope you enjoy my love 🫶🏽

this whole time i thought your pfp was bagels only to realize its a bunny 🥲

wanna be yours

pairing(s): jamie tartt x gn!reader

summary: jamie’s “bum” knee is the perfect excuse to spend whatever free time he can with you. it also doesn’t hurt that you’re his favorite person to flirt with.

warning(s): none

wc: 2.9k

Quiet hums filled the treatment room as you maneuvered around the space organizing and restocking low supplies. Your ears perked up at footsteps moving closer to the room. A knock on the open door followed shortly after, “Give me a minute.” 

“Surely I can give you more than a minute.” The sound of a familiar heavy Manchurian accent caused the corner of your lips to tick up, eyes glancing down at your watch to see that your daily visitor was right on time. 

Turning, you looked up to find Jamie leaning in the doorway, arms crossed against his chest, a cheesy smile on his face as he looked at you. “What can I do for you, Jamie?” 

In recent weeks Jamie made it his mission to stop by your office and if he wasn’t spending his free time in your office picking your brain, then he was complaining to you in the treatment room about a mysterious knee issue that magically disappeared after every visit to you but somehow always returned the next day. In the beginning, you thought there was something seriously wrong with him, and you were sure you would lose your job if Richmond lost their star player because you couldn’t figure out what was wrong but as time passed you began to enjoy his little visits.

“It's me knee,” Jamie’s lips turned down into a pout as he walked fully into the room. “It's feelin’ all funny again.” 

You nodded your head trying to tamp down your smile as you gestured for him to take a seat on the treatment table before grabbing a bottle of BioFreeze and rolling the stool over with you to sit. “Have you been doing the stretches I gave you?” 

Jamie reached for your free hand pulling you towards him. Small laughs left you at the rolling sensation before he stopped you in front of him, easily settling his foot between your legs on the stool. “Of course I do love, they make me think of ya.” His finger reached out to boop the tip of your nose, a smug smile washing over his face as your nose scrunched up from the touch.

It felt childish the way the butterflies in your stomach fluttered at Jamie’s silly little antics, but you ignored it knowing just how cheeky the man could be. The room was quiet for a minute as you began massaging the cooling gel into Jamie’s knee, “You know I saw you at practice today-,”

“Trainin’.” Jamie clicked his tongue smiling as you rolled your eyes.

“Anyway, your knee seemed to be fine out on the pitch.” You emphasized the final word smiling at the over-dramatic wink Jamie sent your way.

He gave a slight wince as you added more pressure to his knee, you weren’t sure if he was actually sore or if he was just trying to sell whatever this bit was. “Well yeah babe, I can’t let the lads see me sufferin’.” He moved to lean back resting on his elbows.

You nodded pretending to understand what went on in Jamie’s head. “Maybe but I think it might be time to let Roy and Beard in on this injury,” you paused, glancing up to see the humor drain from Jamie’s face. “Might have to sit out a few games until we get this under control you know? Maybe the whole season if we can’t figure out the underlying cause.” 

The silence caused you to look up your hands continuing their massage as you watched Jamie’s face pale, whatever thoughts going on behind those pretty brown eyes didn’t seem too happy. You felt a bit bad about your joke, but before you could clear the air, the sound of your name being shouted followed by the click of heels moving closer stole your attention.

“Oi sorry, didn’t realize you were busy, wow Jamie you look a bit ill everthin’ alright?” Keeley’s voice rang through the treatment room as she made her entrance, her petite frame eagerly hopping onto empty counter space.

You smiled at her as you finished up the ministrations on Jamie’s knee, “Oh you know he’s just coming to terms that this injury might be career-ending.” You looked up at Jamie waiting to see if he’d break. It took a couple of visits for you to finally clock that there wasn’t anything wrong with Jamie’s knee aside from his muscles needing their usual massage but other than that his visits were just periodic at this point. 

“It breaks my heart to know ya don’t believe me?” Jamie’s voice was incredulous as he spoke, his foot lightly tapped your thigh where it still sat a small smirk playing on his lips.

Keeley was quiet as she watched the exchange between the two of you. A cheeky smile of her own decorated her face. For all the years she’d known Jamie she hadn’t seen him quite as smitten as he was with you. When you first expressed concern about Jamie’s constant visits and the stress you were under trying to diagnose his injury she was worried for the both of you, you for how overwhelmed you seemed, and Jamie for his mysterious knee injury. But then there were the few times she’d been with you when Jamie would pop into your office, at first she thought the two of you were just good friends but as she paid attention to Jamie’s flirtatious words and most times unnecessary touches she realized it was something more on Jamie’s end and slowly began piecing it all together, and what kind of friend would she be to the both of you if she didn’t move this train along.

“Oh! Well sorry to hear about your career Jamie, but I was just poppin’ in to steal our favorite doctor, we’ve got a shopping date!” Keeley bounced on the countertop excitement racing through her. 

Jamie sat up at Keeley’s words, obviously interested in the turn of the conversation, “Awe Granddad takin’ you on a date?” He was the only one to laugh at his joke, your stern look caused his chuckles to quiet down.

Keeley rolled her eyes before finding Jamie’s, “No, it's for the gala. I talked Richmond’s favorite PT into making an appearance this year!” Her smile brightened as she stared directly into Jamie’s eyes though her question was directed at you, “Have you found a plus one yet?” 

You tried not to cringe at Keeley’s words, as excited as you were about finally attending one of Richmond’s annual charity galas Keeley wouldn’t take no for an answer when you explained you were fine attending the event solo. You stood from the stool moving to return the gel back to its place and wash your hands. 

“Why bring a guest when I could potentially arrive solo and leave with a lovely companion.” You turned to face both of them, a small smirk lining your lips as you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively.

Jamie’s disgusted scoff was drowned out by Keeley’s excited squeal; the woman catapulted off the countertop excitement radiating off of her as she jumped up and down and clapped excitedly. “You cheeky little shit I love it! Oh, ohh are we thinking a sleazy footballer or emotionally unavailable millionaire donating for a tax write-off?”

You laughed, Jamie’s disgusted scoff turned into a disgusted look as his eyes bounced between the two of you. “I dunno Dani is kinda top of my list, if that doesn’t work out I guess we’ll go from there.” It was subtle but you watched the way Keeley’s eyes flashed to Jamie before landing back on you giving a thumbs up.

“Rojas?” Jamie’s voice was incredulous as he looked at you, “He’s not even monogamous!” The disbelief on his face was palpable, eyes wide. 

Keeley watched as you made your way over to Jamie patting his thigh before settling back on the stool, his hands fell to the sides of the stool spinning you around before pulling the wheeled chair as close to the table as possible his body bowing forward as his chin came to settle atop your head. Keeley felt physically ill as she tamped down the excitement trying to claw its way out of her body; the urge to squeal grew tenfold as she watched you move your head to rest against his shoulder, eyes staring up at Jamie as the man smiled down at you.

“Who said I was monogamous? It's good to try things at least once.” The movement of you shrugging moved Jamie’s arms that were settled around your shoulders, his smile transforming into a frown.

A scoff let him as one of his hands moved up to flick the tip of your nose “M’ just sayin’ I’d never need another if I had you.” You gave Jamie an exasperated look at his words if the man kept up this flirtatious banter you’d never know how to deal with mediocre men again. 

Keeley covered her excited squeal with a false cough, “Shoot, I’ve uh gotta talk with Rebecca about some marketing things, you’ll be fine if we go shopping later right?” Keeley smiled eager to leave the two of you alone.

It took you a minute to look away from Jamie and find Keeley’s eyes sending her a warm understanding smile, “Of course, oh invite Rebecca yeah?” 

Keeley nodded her head sending you a bright smile before looking at Jamie raising her eyebrows slightly silently trying to tell him to make his move. She refrained from rolling her eyes as the man wiggled his eyebrows back to her, any hope of him doing this on his own slowly dwindling. 

You waved the woman off as she left before turning in Jamie’s arms and giving him a serious look, “So, you wanna tell me what’s going on with you?” Your fingers began unconsciously playing with the hem of his shorts eyes peering into his with concern. “I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me Jamie.”

“Ahh don’t worry your pretty little head.” His hand moved to gently tap two fingers against your forehead, “A little knee pain can’t keep me down, I’m Jamie fuckin’ Tartt.” A smug smile took over his face, a quiet laugh escaped him at the way you rolled your eyes.

You stared at him for a moment longer eyes tracing his face before landing on his smile, the urge to give him a smile of your own crept up on you. “Well, Jamie Tartt is there anything else I can help you with?” 

“Mmm dunno love, kinda just like buggin’ ya.” You laughed as his hand reached for yours, admiring the few rings that decorated your fingers. “Feel like I make ya all nervous, it's a bit adorable.” He smiled widely up at you shamelessly lacing his fingers with yours. 

It felt as though your brain short-circuited for a moment, you weren’t sure when the two of you became all touchy-feely and you hardly minded it, but this felt a bit too intimate as he smiled up at you, the palm of his hand fitted perfectly to yours. 

“If we’re done here I have to go add this little visit to your medical file and maybe stop by the coach's office.” You stood up with a slight huff removing your hand from Jamie’s grip, foot gently pushing the rolling stool into the corner, “Make sure to close the door when you leave please, and try not to let a little knee pain ruin the rest of the great Jamie fuckin’ Tartt’s day.” There was a slight teasing undertone in your words as you gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder before taking your leave, needing a bit of space to figure out the thoughts running through your head. 

Jamie sat still atop the treatment table, a small smile lining his lips as he watched you walk away. The tingling sensation your soft hand left behind in his made him feel like a giddy teenager all over again as he stood to take his leave.

You quickly finished updating the last medical file for the evening, checking the time on the phone to make sure you could stop at home for a shower before meeting Keeley and Rebecca for your shopping date. Moving around your office you gathered your few belongings before turning to head home, surprise jolted through you as you looked up to see Jamie standing in the doorway hand poised to knock. 

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, just wanted to see if you wanted to walk to the car park together?” Jamie raised his hands in innocence, he was changed out of his practice gear just as ready to retire for the day as you were.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You gave him a small smile trying to get your slightly erratic breathing under control as you grabbed your keys off the desk. 

It was silent between the two of you as you exited your office, Jamie moving out of your way opting to lean against the wall as he watched you lock everything up. Thinking back to his words it wasn’t that Jamie made you nervous, he made you confused he was a flirtatious man by nature and while you didn’t mind the banter between the two of you and willfully fed into it, you were a bit wary of catching feelings for a man who was so secure in himself. Pair that with his profession and the lifestyle he lived you weren’t sure if this was just all fun and games between friends or something more.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Jamie bumped his shoulder against yours as the two of you began your journey, not finding any reason to move out of your personal space as you nodded in assent. “Is Rojas really top of your list?” 

You let out a surprised laugh expecting the question to be anything but that, giving yourself a moment to think on the answer as you bid goodbye to the few people the two of you walked past. “I don’t actually have a list Jamie,” you paused, giving him a quiet thank you as he opened the door for you to exit. “But I don’t know, Dani seems like the easiest person to have a fun night with and then continue being my colleague like nothing happened.” 

Jamie hummed at your words, the two of you stopping beside your car and leaning against it. “This may be a bit forward, but I for one think it’d be a true shame to only spend one night with you.” His eyes locked on yours, there was no sign of his signature smirk making an appearance as it usually did after one of his flirty remarks, his eyes were intense almost like he was staring through you, an underlying message hidden in their soft brown depths. The feel of his fingers reaching out to yours tickled in the cool evening air. 

Being speechless sure wasn’t something you were used to, but as you stood in the carpark Jamie directly across from you his words lingering in the air, you weren’t sure there was anything you could say. His words held a heavy insinuation and you didn’t think you were brave enough at the moment to find out their actual meaning. 

Your mouth opened and closed unsure of what to say, your brain not even close to doing its job properly. Jamie smiled as he watched you, fingers dancing across your palm as he took a step forward his free hand raised the forefinger of his knuckle tapped gently against your chin, “Like I said, a bit adorable.” He moved quicker than you could react, his fingers pinching your chin and turning your head slightly before his soft lips caressed the apple of your cheek.

“G’night Doc, I’ll do my stretches tonight and think of ya.” Jamie gave you a cheeky smile and wink before turning and making his way to his car. 

The urge to scream was immediate as you watched him enter his car before getting into your own head falling against the steering wheel as you tried to balance the butterflies in your stomach with the confusion racing through your head. 

Jamie sat in his car waiting for you to safely drive away. The large grin on his face wouldn’t be leaving him anytime soon, his days were always made better by making you smile with just his words. He watched as your car drove off, for a man with all the confidence in the world he wasn’t sure when he’d ever be ready enough to admit his feelings to you without making his words seem as though they were just flirty banter. 

Jamie’s mind thought back to his first meeting with you all those years ago, you were one of the only people who wouldn’t put up with his arrogant attitude and now here he was all these years later hoping one day his cutesy words wouldn’t just be something you’d laugh off but instead believed in the same way you believed he was capable of being a better man.

a/n: y’all i love this man, down horrendous for this himbo.

#jamie tart x reader #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fanfiction

[monzamash]

ooh boy, no36 w/Daniel?? 😳

36. “you sent me pictures of you naked while i was in a work meeting!” rating – mature (sexual references, mentions of nudity, coarse language) word count – 1.1k a/n – i went smut free on this one and made it a little less shouty because i can't imagine a world where danny ric would be angry about a cheeky nude. js xo masterlist

You were bored. Dying behind the eyes kind of bored. And it was raining in London, torrential so everything you would normally do to cure the boredom, like take your pups out for a walk or pop down to the café on the corner for a coffee were a no-go. To make matters worse, Daniel had sworn he’d be home by 2pm, promising to pick up food and your favourite flavour of ice cream too.

It was nearly 6 now and pitch dark outside, street lights bellowing into your lounge room. You hadn’t so much as heard a peep from him since he left you in bed this morning, begging for him to stay curled up under the warm sheets with you. The same frown on your face that you had when he kissed you goodbye, unintentionally leaving you high and dry because he was running late had reappeared. He was ghosting you.

Ignoring your wife is rude. You typed, fingertips hovering over the send button before a mischievous though intrusively broke through.

You were up like a shot, tossing the orange texas state t-shirt that you’d stolen from Daniel on the floor and posing in front of your bathroom mirror. The photos weren’t too scandalous, just a tasteful mix of come hither and this is what you’re missing out on with the beauty lighting smoothing out all the shadows. And if Daniel were so miserably caught up at work then maybe this would be a nice distraction, you thought as you pressed send, nervously awaiting a response.

Being needy wasn’t really you. In fact, the reason your marriage worked so well was because both of you were independent, happily travelling through life waiting for the other patiently. That was the type of love you had and cherished with every part of your being. But when Daniel was home, so close you could reach out and grab him, you wanted him with you every second of every day. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to waste a second of the time you had together, or if you let go for too long he’d disappear again. You weren’t sure what possessed you when you sent that message and those photos and Daniel definitely didn’t expect it when he opened your message and saw you, perky, needy and fully naked.

Fuck. He coughed and quickly closed his phone, hoping Michael hadn’t glanced over but knowing his audible gasp probably caught the attention of everyone in the room.

“Yo, was that…?”

“Was what?” Daniel snapped wide-eyed, shoving his phone into his pocket and staring his best mate down. The deer in headlights expression on Michael’s face confirmed to Daniel that he definitely knew better than to comment on whatever he just saw.

Michael shook his head and averted his eyes to the laptop in front of him, “Nothing, mate.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Daniel grumbled, maddened but internally thanking his lucky stars that it was Michael who saw the pictures and not one of the other ten dudes in the room. At least he knew that he wouldn’t mention it again, respecting you too much to pay it any mind and knowing if he did, Daniel would throttle him. A young lad from the engineering team probably wouldn't have been so generous with his discretion, especially when you looked like that.

The meeting finished up not long after your lewd text came through, Daniel’s mind officially turned to mush as he packed up and bided everyone goodbye. As furious as he was about you interrupting such an important meeting and getting caught, he couldn’t stop thinking about you sitting in your shared home, lounging around wearing nothing but a smile on your angelic face, desperate to be appreciated the way you deserved.

The front door clicking open caused you to sit up and immediately start nervously chewing on your thumb, anticipating. You were feeling uneasy because Daniel hadn’t messaged you back, giving you nothing to analyse while you waited for him to get home and deep down, you knew it was precarious sending a photo like that. But you were willing to risk it all for whatever his reaction was going to be. And boy, were you in for it.

“Where are you!?” Daniel yelled out, searching the kitchen first before appearing in the living room archway, tired eyes and an unreadable expression present his handsome face, “You.”

Hey. You blinked, small grin threatening to give you away but you managed to suppress it, waiting for any semblance of a reaction from the man standing in front of you. Anything more than the silence you were drowning in.

“You’re in trouble.”

“Why?” You asked, feigning innocence and causing Daniel to scoff loudly as he threw down his backpack – stern faced but soft spoken.

“Don’t fuck with me. You know exactly what I’m talkin' about.”

He was weirdly calm as he stepped forward, towering over you gazing up at him from the couch, “You sent me naked pictures while I was in a work meeting – a very important one, in fact. And on face value, loved ‘em. Love you. You’re hot – I know it, you know it but…”

You were smirking now at the compliment and Daniel couldn’t wait to wipe the smug look off your face, “Michael accidentally saw them…”

“What!” You shouted, gasping and covering your mouth with your hand. Mortified.

“Tits and all, honey. That’s what you get for trying to distract me from my work.”

"Nooooooo! No, no no!" You wailed.

You shrivelled up into a fetal position on the couch, wishing the ground would just swallow you whole and take you away from the humiliation, “What did he say?”

“Well, he was shocked to see my wife, his friend, naked on my phone. Like I said, you’re so unbelievably hot but you’ve gotta give a guy some warning before dropping nudes on him. Just a little like, ‘warning may contain titties’ or something – anything”

Daniel’s voice was slightly strained, and faintly humoured as he started to peel you out of your shame, little by little. You chuckled into his chest as he pulled you up into in his strong embrace, kissing your neck and brushing his hands under the hem of your his shirt.

“I was so turned on that I forgot to pick up food and your ice cream.”

His confession was quiet and you hummed before snaking your arms over his slumped shoulders and carefully dragged yourself into his lap, “S’okay. I knew would be so I got sushi delivered after I sent you the message.”

Daniel tilted his head back against the couch and cocked an eyebrow, “You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t ya?”

And of course you nodded, baiting him and hoping to be put in your place. Even he couldn't deny that you had him figured out, down to a tee – every whim had been accounted for as you made him groan with pleasure, pressing down on him, teasing.

“You started all of this so you’re gonna be the one who finishes it, yeah? So fuckin' cheeky.”

“You’re going to wish you left that meeting hours ago, baby.” “We’ll see about that,” Daniel winked. Eyes wide, desperate to see it all.

+ + + let me know what you think!

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #smut prompts #requested #monzamashmasterlist #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 blurbs #monzamashprompts

[the-royal-teacup]

Ya know what Harry’s problem is? I know, there are many, but he severely over-estimated his popularity…

Harry was used to being ‘Jack the lad’ ‘the good time guy’ ‘the third wheel’ ‘the eternal bachelor’ you get it, he had many labels and was portrayed as the cheeky chappy that everyone loved and because of that he got away with a lot, too much really. Add in the trauma of losing Diana at such a young age and everyone felt sorry for him and just wanted him to be happy.

So, then, he brings Markle into the equation and he expects that everyone will love her and see that he’s happy and that finally the ‘eternal bachelor’ has found love and everyone will accept her and everything will be fine and dandy.

He thought his popularity within the UK especially was enough to win people over and that together they would become the ‘it’ couple that everyone would love her, she’d be adored like his mother because everyone would see how like Diana she was 🙄

And here’s the thing, if Harry hadn’t shoved her down everyone’s throats, if he hadn’t tried to make everyone like her and she hadn’t come in all sugary sweet and fake, maybe, just maybe, people would have warmed to her. If she hadn’t stomped all over protocol, disrespected the monarchy and the UK and actually tried to fit in and I mean actually fit in, paid her dues, kept her head down and actually put in the work, maybe people would have seen the ‘real’ Meg!

Ha! No. Who am I kidding? This is the real Meg. The one who thought she could come in, and her and Harry would be the ‘it’ couple and one up Catherine and William and be the new faces of the monarchy. When that didn’t happen they left, and yet you still aren’t the stars of the monarchy in or out of it.

Instead, you’re those bitter relatives that go around trying to win everyone over to your side, trying to poison everyone against your family and when that doesn’t work, you try to get back in with your family because you know without them you have nothing and certainly not the ‘star’ power you insist you have!

In conclusion Harry, well, you’re a twat and you completely over estimated your popularity and your wife’s ‘star’ power!

[giggly-squiggily]

Hiii!! First of all wanted to say how happy I am to always see you in my dash! You’re a big inspiration to me for writing and I have a fic I need to finish and you’ve helped with getting me motivated to do so. 💖 For the hcs to drabbles, I love the idea of Nick being able to say tickle and ticklish to Charlie when he’s being all teasey, but when it’s used against him- he blushes and can’t look at Charlie. A big and tough rugby lad until Charlie turns the tables.

Friend! *hugs* Oh my goodness, you are beyond sweet! Thank you so, so much! I'm glad I can be a part of your inspiration and motivation- that means a ton, truly!

This headcanon is so freaking cute AHH! I've gotcha covered! :D

“Nick, I swear if you keep tapping that pen, I will tickle you!”

The threat was fairly weak- Charlie didn’t even know if Nick was ticklish. He figured the rugby lad would grin at him all cheeky before tackling him into the carpet.

What he didn’t expect was Nick to freeze, eyes widening and cheeks flushing a noticeable shade of red. Charlie stared.

Then he smiled.

“Nick-”

“Don’t.” Nick held up his hands, already giggling. “Doohohn’t you dare!”

“Don’t what? I just said your name.” Charlie turned around so he was facing him properly, slowly crawling up until he was inches from his boyfriend. “I didn’t say I was gonna tickle you, did I? I could tickle you though, if you’re ticklish.”

Each use of that dreaded word make Nick scrunch more, shoulders to his ears as he hid his face in his hands. “Chahahr, stahhahap!” He whimpered, earning a fit of giggles from Charlie.

“I haven’t even touched you yet!” He laughed, waiting. When Nick peeked between his fingers, he smiled, wiggling his own. “Nick, I’m gonna….TICKLE YOU!” He yelled in glee, fingers finding all the soft parts of his belly. “Tickle tickle tickle!”

“AHH! AHehhahahahahahhaha! Chahahhhar, plehahahahhahase!” Nick cried, head thrown back in mirth as he wiggled like a fish. “Dohohoohohohohn’t aheahhahahhahahaha!”

“Don’t what? Don’t tickle you? Can’t say the word now, Nick? What happened?” Charlie was in heaven. After many, many, MANY flustering attacks from his boyfriend, it was nice to get him back. “Is my big strong rugby star boyfriend too ticklish for his own good?”

“Ahehahahhahaha, yehahahhahahhahahhahase!” Nick wheezed, grabbing his boyfriend around the waist and twisting. Seconds later, they were lying side by side on the carpet, giggling like kids. “Stahahahp it, you dohoohrk!”

“Nehehehver! You’re so cute!” Charlie smiled, scooting forward as he pressed a small kiss against Nick’s smiling mouth.

“No way- you’re the cute one. I’m the strong one.” Nick pulled him on top of him once more, making Charlie giggle like a child. “But I suppose it’s not so bad being cute every once and awhile.”

Send me a headcanon and I'll write a dabble for it!

#headcanons to dabbles #tickle #tickle dabble #heartstopper #nick nelson #charlie spring #nick and charlie #fluff #dorks in love ahhhh

[dreamcorechild]

Sonny: "...."

Sekido: "....."

Karaku: "......"

Aizetsu: "......"

Urogi: "......"

Zohakuten: "So anyways I started shoving the meat to a meat grinder-"

Sekido: "NO ONE ASKED ZOHA!!!"

Zohakuten: "WELL THEN!!! AT LEAST GIVE ME YOUR APPROVAL FOR EXPRESSING MY OPINIONS!!!"

Sekido: "YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN GO NEAR A MEAT GRINDER!"

Zohakuten: "I'M AS OLD ENOUGH TO MANAGE THINGS ON MY OWN!"

Aizetsu: "We dont need this ridiculous argument..."

Karaku: "Agree. I guess Muzan lend this child for us to Babysit.. For once, he has the most empty minded brain out of all of us.. And he's our leader for crying out loud.."

Urogi: "Who cares about that! At least we got company here!"

Zohakuten: "Mhm."

Sekido: "Great.... Just when today has been getting worse for me because of you earr&ping lunatics!!"

Aizetsu: "Well. Should we start with today by planning on which room would be suitable for the young star.. Our rooms wouldn't be safe for him.. Nor any others by the high risks of him getting hurt."

Karaku: "Precisely."

Sekido: "Fine. But he ain't having my room!"

Urogi: "We weren't even thinking of that Bro."

Sekido: "WELL GOOD RIDDENCE!!"

[The brothers would have difficulty trying to find a safe room for them and the Child as each rooms contains deadly things. One room contains a large pond of crocodiles. The other, a room full of spikes on the walls and floors. Like a larger indoor iron Maiden. Sekido didn't bother to help. He sat on the counter, Watching his brother struggle with finding the perfect room. One room contains a lot of Arachnophobic abomination... Sonny scurried away a bit. His fear and adrenaline fitting into his veins.]

[Thankfully. One room is perfect.. The Living room. Sonny wondered around a bit. All of the clones watched him as he scanned around his new surroundings. He walked towards the emotion of pleasure. Jumping on his arm and swinging around, He was satisfied by the strong muscular that he holds.. Karaku on the other hand cackled a bit. Keeping his arm out while observing the child to not get hurt.]

Karaku: "D'awwwhh look at this young lad climbing on my arm like a monkey! Ain't he a cheeky ol fella?"

Sekido: "No... He's human.. Don't you understand.. Humans and demons... Don't mix very well."

Urogi: "Come on big bro.. Don't be such a sore ass! It will be fine. No one will notice him with us anyway..."

Sekido: "Still. You won't know that if these walls have eyes that are looking at us right now!"

Karaku: "How silly of you Sekido! Walls don't have eyes.. Your just a bit... Delusional."

Sekido: "I AM NOT. AND I CAN PROVE IT!"

Urogi: "Okay then.... Impress us big bro!"

Sekido: "......"

[There was no evidence for Sekido to shout at... His brothers all had the concern face when they saw him sweating up with anguish.]

Urogi: "What's the matter Sekido... Can't find anyone to back up your story, Hmm?"

Sekido: *Angry snarling*

[Sonny let go. Tumbling to the ground. The taunting and fillings of hot-blooded, frantic pulse was effecting him. Aizetsu saw the cowardness being shown.]

Aizetsu: "Uhh guys.. I think your making the Child a bit... Frightened."

Karaku: "That was Sekido's fault for being to noisy!"

Sekido: "AIN'T NOT!!! IT'S JUST WHAT I AM, WHEN ALL I EVER FEEL IS ANGER AND EXASPERATION! YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT KARAKU!"

Karaku: "Yeah yeah.. Keep talking... Are you getting cranky again. Shall we drag you to anger management class so they can fix that damage voice box of yours that you keep breaking??~"

Sekido: "FUCK NO. IF I WOULD. THEN YOU ALL WOULD BE SORRY!!"

Aizetsu: "Guys... The child!!!"

Zohakuten: "Ah shoot." *Rips his own ears out.*

Urogi: "Awhhhhh! Is big brother Sekido having his temper tantrum again.. Isn't he my overreacting big brother that does nothing but stands and cast out lightning... Awhhhhh such squishy cheeks to pinch and squeeze and jiggle around-"

Sekido: "Get. Your. Claws. Of. My. Face."

Karaku: "Looks like someone needs some ice to cool down his hot steaming kettle head... What do you say?"

Urogi: "I second that!"

Sekido: "..... I'm going to kill you two... And make sure you don't fucking regenerate..."

[Once he said that. His Khakkhara staff formed on the palm of his hands. Hitting both Karaku and Urogi with it. Aizetsu saw the tears forming under Sonny's eyes.. This was another big problem that they all must get through..]

Aizetsu: "GUYS!! AREN'T YOU LISTENING... YOUR MAKING THE CHILD CRY!!!!"

Sekido, Karaku and Urogi: "... Uh oh."

Sonny: *Sobbing*

Zohakuten: "Tut. Tut. Tut... Shame of you three for being annoying!"

Sekido: "HEY! I'm not as infuritating as these two!"

Karaku: "I think now's not the time to point fingers Sekido..."

Sekido: "FOR LORD MUZANS SAKE.. WHAT CAUSE YOU ALL TO TURN ON ME... I'M THE ONE WHO CAN DECIDE. I AM THE OLDEST ONE HERE AFTER ALL."

Urogi: "Heheheheheheh-"

Sekido: "Quiet you peasants, and you! Find a way to shut that child up!!"

Aizetsu: "I'm already on it..."

Zohakuten: "Is he hungry or tired??!?"

Karaku: "Maybe both.."

Aizetsu: "It's none of that.. He's just a bit scared... Hey Karaku, come here for a second I might have an idea that involves your sashes."

Karaku: "My sashes... What do you mean?"

[Aizetsu didnt hesitate to rip out one of his white pom poms from his Yuigesa. He squeezed it, feeling the soft and the fluff. He lend it to the child to distract him. His tears stopped flowing.. Now using the white cotton ball as his comfort toy. Karaku, at first didn't like the fact that his finest cotton ball would be ripped from his sashes. But in mind.. He felt pleasant to see the boy with the emotion of divine.]

Karaku: "You did the right thing Aizetsu..."

Aizetsu: "Thanks...."

Zohakuten: "Is it over. Has he stopped crying?"

Sekido: "Yes. You can now re-attach your stupid ears so you can hear us again.. Ughhh.."

Urogi: "Guess someone has woken up on the wrong side of the bed again-"

Sekido: "QUIET YOU!!!"

#demon slayer #aizetsu #sekido #karaku #urogi #kimestu no yaiba #hantengu clones #demon slayer urogi #demon slayer aizetsu #demon slayer karaku #zohakuten #upper moons

[pacifymebby]

t r o u b l e/ chapter twenty six

Sonya

"She made a me a flask?" I smirked through my surprise, wondering if perhaps she was trying harder than I'd expected to bring us back into the fold. To mother us again.

I took the little flask from him and unscrewed the lid. When I held it up to my lips I felt the steam warm my nose, a soft gingery sweetness gracing my senses.

"Aye," he said, "told me to make sure ye drink up... It's ginger or somethin, good for..."

"My health, I know," I said with a small smirk, an eye roll that didn't stop me raising the flask to my lips and taking a sip. Didn't stop me smiling softly when I breathed in the sweet honey scent on the steam, when I swallowed and felt it warm me through. Soften me up.

"See," he said then, a cheekier smile when he spoke and caught my arm with his, "you're not so different from us after all..."

"Because I'm drinking milk?" I screwed my face up, my nose wrinkling, brow knitting when I asked him cynically, not really expecting the answer he gave me.

"Still trust your aunt Pol..."

"Well it's not like I can trust the rest of them is it?" I shrugged taking another sip of my drink. Trying not to let my mind circle around the point he'd just made. That I trusted Polly. That I didn't trust the rest of them. That I didn't want to trust Polly. That if I did then I had to believe what she'd told me that morning, that I'd have to believe in those cards which had frightened me since I was only a little girl.

"You don't trust your sister?"

"She doesn't trust me..." I bit my lip, looked down into the dark flask at the milk and the steam, watched it slosh around when I shook the flask in a small circle to stir it up a little.

"You think?"

"She didn't tell me where she was going."

I sat up a little stiffer then, watching the lake, starring out at the still water determined not to let Bonnie read the uncertainty in my eyes. His knack for reading people hadn't passed me by and I wasn't the kind of girl who was used to, nor wanted to be understood as carefully as he threatened to try and know me. So I didn't want to tell him anymore than he already knew. I just didn't realise that in saying what I had I'd already told him so much more about myself than I realised.

"Don't you have to train?" I asked after swallowing another sip of milk, changing the subject with a brighter tone, "for your fight?"

"Nahh..." He leant back in the grass, hands behind his head, eyes closed, a smirk tugging on his lips, "could go into that ring with a broken arm and still knock the sorry bastard out in the first round..."

I bit back a laugh at that, enjoying the bright mischievous light dancing in his eyes when he opened them and shot me a wink.

"You've got a lot of confidence..." I smirked, glancing back at him over my shoulder, watching him as he lay still and calm, like there wasn't a worry in the world that could get him down. It couldn't have been true, there must have been doubts in his mind somewhere but he played it off so well. Like he was the most carefree lad in the world.

"Never lost a fight I didn't mean to," he shrugged, "as long as I weigh in just under the limit I'll be sound... Maybe if you've got doubts Miss Gray, you should come cheer me on eh?" He asked with a cheeky smile.

"Don't sound like you need much cheerin on peaky boy..." I bit back my smile, trying to ignore the strange shy feeling he'd sparked in me. "Unless your fights happening in my living room though I doubt my brother will let me..."

"Sure he will," he shrugged, "not like your bodyguard won't be there is it?"

"I guess," I smiled wanting to laugh at him and his relentless optimism, he had an answer for everything and though usually it was infuriating that morning it was good to be met with so many positive contradictions. Good to have someone shoot down every one of my doubts.

"Y'know lass," he said then, pushing himself up, "you could come and train with me if you like..."

"Why?" I frowned, "don't think I'm heavyweight champion material somehow Mr Gold..." I said, watching as his face lit up with a laugh, his curls falling a little messy across his forehead when he shook off his amusement.

"I meant for your dancin little miss raincloud," he grinned, "your brother's gym is class an you know he says he built it for his fighters but we all know he really built it for you an Sylvia..."

I really screwed my face up when he said that, looked at him all cynical and disbelieving. My frown and the words which followed leaving his smirk to linger, like he understood something I didn't.

"Why would Tommy build a gym for us when were never home..." I said blankly. Perhaps a little part of me hoped I already knew the answer but I wasn't going to let myself believe it, even when Bonnie shrugged his shoulders and all but confirmed something Id always secretly hoped.

"Maybe he was hoping you'd come visit..."

"Never invited us..."

"Don't need an invitation to come home love..." He matched my sullen shrug with a soft smile, those eyes that told me to warm up to him just a little more.

I chewed my cheek, sucked in on it and shook my head.

"Doesn't feel like home," I said quietly, thinking back to the place that was home. The long ornate hallways of my school, the hidden rooms backstage at the opera house, the flat I'd shared with Sylvie, the bed I'd shared with Freddie in his apartment in Little Italy. Where I'd felt at home for a brief moment before he'd turned the TV on and I'd seen the news.

"Give it time," he said quietly, his fingers startling mine when they skimmed over them in the grass, "you've been away so long, perhaps you've just forgotten what it feels like..."

I bit my bottom lip, ran my tongue along the ridges of my dry skin. Saw another flickering image of Freddie lying on his back in his bed, the sheets a mess and barely covering him, the little black heart tattooed over his, the wink he'd shot me as he lay there letting his finger trace an S on the spot.

And as I thought about him my hand wandered to my belly and lingered there. There was a lump in my throat and it was hard to swallow. There was a low lying panic struggling inside me and I couldn't think for all the fuzz it left in my head.

"Who knows," I shrugged hugging my knees up to my chest and resting my chin on them glumly.

I heard Bonnie move beside me, heard him push himself up and shuffle closer.

Felt his hand on my back rub slowly up and down.

"You're dead tense you," he said letting his fingertips trace over the knots in my muscles, "you always like this?" He asked shuffling back to sit behind me, his hands running smoothly up my back, resting on my shoulders. I couldn't see the frown knitting his brows together. I could however feel the warm chill which his actions had sent radiating through me. The blush he was leaving on my cheeks as I stared stubbornly out at the lake. I couldn't turn to look at him now, I felt too shy, too self conscious.

And then his hand pressed down on a bruise which has been troubling me all week. Another from a tumble I'd taken during class.

I tried to swallow and breath through the sudden flash of pain, the heat building around the ache, but I couldn't hide my flinch. Not when his hands were on me to feel my every intake of breath.

"Shit sorry lass," he said his hands falling away from me.

"S'okay Bonnie it's nothing." I said quickly hoping he'd drop it, quietly hoping he'd put his hands back where they had been because the gentle pressure he'd been applying as he felt for knots had been more soothing than I'd expected.

"Nah I hurt you Sonya," he said, the look of concern in his eyes only darkening when I shook my head again.

"Honest Bonnie it's just a bruise... Someone uh..."

"Someone hurt you?" He asked, his voice quiet but quick and teetering on angry until I cut him off. Until my hand reached for his, my fingers skimming over his in the grass until I realised what I'd done, grew shy and drew them away. Back to my side.

"Not on purpose stupid," I smirked forcing myself to smile through the embarrassing memory. It had been humiliating in class but somehow it was more humiliating to admit it not. "My partner dropped me in class... We were leading on some steps and he uh, yeah... Dropped me..."

"Fuck," he smirked, "an I thought my job was dangerous..." I wondered which he was referring to then, being a fighter or being a blinder. "Here ain't they sposed to be talented at your school? What's he goin droppin you for?" His smile was cheeky, like he was trying to do just as I was and laugh it off but I knew what he must really have been thinking, the same as my partner had when they'd dropped me, the same as everyone in the class who had seen it. The same as I'd thought when I'd hit the floor with a thud and felt it echo through my bones, my muscles cramping with the shock as I lay there trying to breath through the pain so that I could get up and start the routine again.

"Reckoned its cause I'm too heavy..." I shrugged trying to pretend that it didn't bother me.

"Kind of excuse is that?" Sniggered Bonnie. It didn't escape my notice the way his eyes kept flickering back to my lower back where his hands had pressed a little too hard. "Sounds to me like someones been skippin arm day." He said with a small smile. "Can I see the bruise lass? Don't reckon it should be hurtin that much after a week like, even my worst never hurt that much for that long..."

"Maybe I'm more of a baby than you..." I tried to deter him, smirking, trying not to pout or show him how nervous it made me to let someone assess the damage.

At school you learnt to swallow down the pain, keep the injuries to a minimum and secret when you did wind up sore. Injuries meant falling behind and falling behind wasn't something girls like me could afford.

"I doubt that somehow sweetheart," said Bonnie, his voice quieter then, murmured as he pushed the back of my brothers pyjama top up and concentrated on the spread of ugly purple turning green at the base of my spine. I heard him breath out a hushed "shit," as his fingers grazed ever so lightly over it. Felt the burn of his eyes on my skin.

I tried to focus on my breathing, tried to concentrate on breathing slow and steady, concentrate on not shaking or shivering or letting the goosebumps show on my arms when he touched me. That was more difficult than I'd expected it to be.

"You didn't believe him did you lass?" He asked then pressing the back of his hand to the bruise, the cool of his touch soothing the ache a little.

"I don't know... He doesn't usually drop me... We've done those steps hundreds of times together so it's not like he didn't know the routine... Cas is the best dancer in our school, he's a really talented athlete..."

"Second to you of course," smirked Bonnie, his smirk only faltering when I didn't return it, "you don't believe me eh lass?" He asked pulling my top back down, rubbing a gentle circle over my back, "how many lassies have you dropped eh? Trust me love, the lad fucked up and blamed you cause he was embarrassed about it, pretty low if you ask me sweetpea..."

"You seem to know him pretty well considering you've never met him..."

"Don't need to lass," he said pushing himself up off the ground, offering his hand to me, "sounds like I've met ten of him in the ring before," he said tugging me closer into his side as we began walking back to the house, "an between me an you I'd gladly make sure he never made the mistake of droppin you again eh?" He said with a cheeky smile, a wink which warmed my cheeks and left me speechless. A small smile tugging at my lips. "I'd mind that bruise though sweetpea, no trainin for you this afternoon eh you need to rest that..."

"I've been resting for days now... I don't know if you've noticed but..."

"None of what you've done these last few days counts as rest Sonya," he said stopping just in front of me, holding my hand down by our hips, looking at me more seriously than I'd thought he was capable of, "What you need is good, proper rest... No staying up scared in a panic room or sobbin your wee heart out and shoutin at your brother yeah, proper rest... You need to relax lass... Hot bath, use that spa your Aunt Pol's always in an out of... Proper rest or it won't get better... Trust me sweetheart I've tried to train through less and it never works..."

"Boxings clearly a more forgiving profession," I mumbled not expecting him to catch my words, not expecting him to smile and shrug me off when I did.

"Probably..."

🌸🦢🌸

"Well," murmured Bonnie as we returned to the house, entering through the kitchen door to the smell of ginger and cinnamon, Ada and Esme with their hands burried in a bowl of flour sugar and butter. "I would invite you to watch me batter your big brother but..." Said bonnie nodding to Kitty who was hovering impatiently on the kitchen table, dressed like a prima ballerina, "I think someones been missin you."

That's how he had left me several hours ago, teasing Kitty on his way out, telling her she looked stunning in her little pink tutu. Told her she looked just as pretty as her aunty. Then he'd shot me another of those stupid winks from across the kitchen and left me at the hands of the little girl who'd been hopping from one foot to the other hardly able to contain her excitement.

She'd grabbed my hands and practically dragged me through to the sun room where I saw the focus of her delight. Four little rabbits idling on the carpet, one hopping slowly about sniffing at the pieces of carrot which had been dropped for them.

"Remember what I told you princess," yawned John from where he lay reclined on his back on the sofa basking in the sunlight which shone through the roof.

There was a door open and a big window letting in the cool from outside and with the television showing the moomins on for the youngens the room had a lazy, dreamy kind of atmosphere.

"Be gentle... Smaller than me..." Grinned Kitty, her fingers locking and unlocking, this mischievous little grin on her lips as she skipped to follow the most sprightly of the bunnies around the room.

"This one's named Buttons," she said picking him up as gently as she could, presenting him to me a little over zealously so that I had no choice but to rescue the little fluffball from her grasp.

"Careful sweetheart," I smiled cradling the little bunny in my hands, "you should listen to daddy Kitty, Buttons is shy see, look at him he's all shakey... You have to be super careful with him..." I said sitting down on the floor leaning against the sofa and holding him to my chest carefully, "here we are see, c'mere KitKat," I said whispering, taking her hand and placing it on the little rabbits soft fur.

She snuggled in close to me and rested her cheek against my arm so that she was nose to nose with Buttons. Her little smile still so mischievous I couldn't help but mirror it.

"See," I breathed looking down at the angelic little creature with tenderness, stroking between his ears and smiling at the way his nose twitched.

"What're the others called Kitty?"

"Yeah go on princess tell aunty fen what you named em..." Chuckled John his lazy smile contagious. He was half asleep, one hand reaching down to ruffle Katie's hair. It was the most peaceful I'd seen anyone all week and I was beginning to wonder how they did it.

Bonnie and John alike. Lying back with their eyes closed, lazy smiles, letting peace wash over them even in the midst of tension and chaos. I couldn't help but envy them for that ability. Couldn't help but think it must be nice to quiet the mind and all its anxieties even if only for a minute or two.

"What did you name the other two Kitty?" I smirked curious now because John was still chuckling to himself behind me.

"This one's Sylvie!" She grinned pointing to a brown, lop-eared bunny stretched out and dozing in the sun. My eyes going wide as I struggled to hold back a giggle, knowing what was coming next, not exactly horrified but also not impressed.

"Oh no," I giggled, "what's this one called Kitty?" I asked a giggle escaping both of us when she crawled to pick the black and white one up and set it down in her lap. It immediately nuzzled into her and began trying to climb up onto her shoulder, eyes set on the sofa and John's head.

"S... Sunny! Like Sonya!" She grinned looking ever so proud of herself, her grin dissolving into laughter when John laughed chuckling away to himself half asleep.

"Atta girl," he grinned sleepily,his hand ruffling her hair once more, "howd ya like that Fen, she looks just like you don't she?"

"Was this your idea? Some twisted way of laughin at us whilst we were away..."

"Who me?" He laughed feigning innocence all hand on heart and false offence, "nah lass, just missed you that much..."

"No no no it's cause they're pretty n you're pretty too!" Cried Katie suddenly animated again, stretching up to her our attention, bouncing up and down where she sat, wriggling and repeating herself until she was greeted with John pushing himself up and scooping her up into his lap.

"Right y'little terror," he grinned threatening her with a tickling hand, wriggling his fingers over her tummy so that she squealed.

"No daddy won't!" She cried defiantly.

"Oh won't he?" He chuckled hanging her upsidedown over his knees so that her hair fell down and brushed the carpet. "What makes you think that eh miss?" He grinned unable to hold in his sniggering as he threatened her with the same game he used to play with me and Sylvie. I gasped jumping to the little girls defense when he threatened her with tickles again.

"John no!" I cried, "you wouldn't!"

"Daddy won't!" Giggled Katie trying to wriggle and squirm her way free but she wasn't going to escape unless John let her and right now his eyes were lit up with mischief and I knew he wouldn't back down.

"Why not Kitty Kat?" He grinned tickling her belly so that she couldn't speak for giggling too much. "Fishes in the water fishes in the sea..." He started teasing her...

"Daddy love me most!" She giggled still wriggling, her laughter so contagious it was impossible not to laugh along as I promised I'd get her free.

"That wasn't the question princess... Sorry!" Laughed John tormenting the poor girl with an onslaught of tickles.

In the end however it was her brother Liam who came to her rescue, clambering on his dads shoulders from round the back of the sofa, hitting him with a light saber until he promised to free his hostage. Kitty scrambling to safety in the arm chair, breathless and rosy cheeked from all her laughter.

"What the bloody 'ells goin on ere eh?" Smiled Ada, her eyes lit up when they rested on John who was still being tormented by Liam and his other eldest boy. "My god John I never thought I'd see the day karma came back to bite you..."

"Yeah..yeah Ada ain't like you didn't put up a fair fight is it!" He managed to spit out between laughs and wheezes of breath doing his best to fend of the two little boys.

But in the Shelby house no amount of peace can be allowed to last for long and when Arthur and Bonnie appeared in the doorway a few hours later the laughter stopped and a shadow crossed over the eyes of my brothers. They shared a silent conversation, eyes dark with understanding and I shivered noticing how in the hours we'd spent lying on the carpet playing with the littlens, the weather had changed and the day had darkened.

Outside the mist had crept in and surrounded the house, the sky was grey and threatening rain. Something heavy and looming hung over us all and I felt a fearful twist in my gut.

When I looked up at Arthur however it was Bonnie who caught my attention, the wink he shot me, the small smile. As if he could tell how my worries had all returned in that moment. As if it were me he wanted to settle and reassure.

"Right," coughed Arthur, "I'll be off then aye..."

"Where's uncle Arthur goin?" Asked Liam, his brother chipping in too.

"Can I come?"

"Nah lad," said Arthur shaking his head, his voice low and gravelly, a little doomed sounding, "not this time eh mate, maybe next time..."

"Aye mate maybe next time yeah, come on I'll teach you how to use that weapon proper eh?" Asked John picking the abandoned lightsaber back up leading them both away to play somewhere else.

I watched Arthur turn away too, watched Ada jump up to stop him, to ask him what was going on.

I saw the look in his eyes which told Ada to back down. Saw the look in hers when she forced a smile and came to sit on the floor with Katie, when she picked up bunny Sylvie and placed her in Katie's lap.

I watched Arthur murmur to Bonnie quietly before he left and when Bonnie turned back to us he had that knit of concentration on his brow tugging a small frown into the center of his expression. It didn't last however because the second he felt my gaze on him he broke into a grin and threw himself down beside me on the settee, his arm stretched out across the back so that I was conscious of the weight of it behind me. So that I felt a tinge of guilt when I found myself wondering what it would feel like to have his arm around me properly. To feel his fingers curling my hair around them subtly.

I tried to ignore the thought but the longer he remained still beside me watching the room with those quiet eyes the worse the feeling got. The desire to let myself sink further back into the cushions, into his side. To find myself tucked under his arm.

I told myself it was because I was missing Freddie, because my head was all cottony and full of anxiety. Because I'd been so scared all week, so upset... And because Bonnie had been there with me throughout it all, always offering me a kind smile. Always listening and nodding along in that calm thoughtful way. The way he just took everything in, the way he almost always seemed to say the right thing...

"So you've met your double I see?" He said leaning in to talk to me, "cute ain't she..."

"Yeah," I smirked, blushing at the fact that everyone seemed to be in on this joke except me.

"Reckon she does a mean pirouette too," he chuckled, "how's the restin going?" He asked his eyes flickering over my body, lingering on my lower back as if he thought looking hard enough would allow him to see through the t-shirt I was wearing to examine the damage.

"I feel like I'm wasting time..." I said chewing my cheek, smiling when he shrugged his shoulders.

"Lookin after yourself ain't wasting time lass," he said his hand skimming over my shoulder, unnoticed by the rest of the family though the sensation it left tingling on my skin and up my neck was impossible to ignore. "Anyway," he said, "you're like me... You don't need anymore practice eh, I reckon you're already perfect..." He said with a cheeky wink, not deterred when I giggled and tried to deny the fact.

"You've never seen me dance!"

"Seen you on YouTube," he smirked, "your brother showed me earlier... After I'd won our fight eh..."

"You didn't beat Arthur," I shook my head with a smile, "no way," I giggled laughing harder when he shook his head.

"Nah lass," he grinned, his cheeks flushed a sweet shade of scarlet, "but a lad can dream..."

Taglist

@inalovesrabbits-blog

@zablife

@jomarch-wannabe

@itsghostgirlyo

@marwwfairy

@toddlerbodybag

@everysage

@tommyshelbywhore

@kas3ylovesyou

@mollybegger-blog

@impossibleheartflower

@liliac-dreamer

@call-sign-shark

#peaky blinder fanfic #pealy blinders x oc #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders modern au #bonnie gold x oc

[lfc21]

Christmas wedding - Day 7

TW : Fluff, wedding

Summary : your dream was to have a winter wedding, with the help of Andy and yourself you made the most perfect Christmas wedding.

Love isn't always perfect. It isn't a fairytale or a storybook. And it doesn't always come easy. Love is overcoming obstacles, facing challenges, fighting to be together, holding on & never letting go. It is a short word, easy to spell, difficult to define, and impossible to live without. Love is work, but most of all, Love is realising that every hour, every minute, and every second was worth it because you both did it together. Your love was Andy. Andy was the one you fell completely head over heels for. The moment your eyes met, a certain light fell through your life. Like stars in the night time.

Since a little girl the vision of a fairytale Christmas wedding was something so unbelievably perfect. The idea of snow on the day you wished your vowes was something you could only think to dream off. But how you where wrong. Everything was possible with the power of love, this is why Andy gave you the world. He wanted you to have your fairytale.

"And you may now kiss the bride" you heard in your right ear as the vicar now presented you husband and wife. Andy's delicate hands took hold of your pristine white Vale and carefully took it over your head. Words where not applicable in this moment. You stayed in the bliss, photographing the moment within your mind. His lips came closer to yours as his hand slid softly around your neck.

"I love you" he softly said, just as a whisper. In that moment you could of swarn the world stopped turning and nothing else seemed to make sense. Your lips fell into there home comfort. It was as if you had fell into heaven. As the cheers and whistles filled the small white church you pulled away from one another with the biggest grins and most excited eyes. You looked down with blushed red cheeks as your hands gripped Andy's and you both made your way down the small wooden steps down to the aisle. The church was decorated in the white and silver decorations you came to love. There where slight touches of Christmas and mostly signals of a winter wonderland. Perfect.

"Come on lad!" Virgil cheered as he patted the back of Andy as you both walked past the herds and herds of people.

"You look stunning y/n" Julia, Thiagos wife said as you made your way past them both as she admired the way your long sleeve snow inspired dress fit perfectly around your body. As the large wooden doors opened you where met with the cold outside air of the final month of the year. You knew outside fresh photos was something you urged to have, and straight after your ceremony was the only right time. Just you and Andy.

"Oh my god" Andy mutered under his breathe as he rubbed his hands together in aim of warmth.

"I know, I can't believe where married" you said whilst agreeing with the words he spoke.

"No I ment the cold weather" Andy deadpanned to you with a cheeky smile. You quickly rolled your eyes at his words as he pulled you into his cold body. "You look beautiful by the way" He added as he pushed away the fly away piece of hair that made home on your forehead.

"Thank you" you softly said back with a gentle smile. As your hand fell back into place with his the photographer came out to you both. The cold air had a frost decorating everything with a thin and glossy sheet of glitter. Your flowers held silver and blue touches which shown the winter wonderland just perfectly.

"I have an early Christmas present for you" you whispered in Andy's ear as you started to take the many pictures outside. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to maintain his steady pose.

"What?" He asked abruptly as the man went off to check some pictures. "Its not Christmas for another 3 days" he explained with a laugh as you saw his nose collect red from the cold.

"Here" you said as you passed him a red box you had been given by your photographer. You had known about this present for two weeks and you knew the only person that could know was the man who could capture the moment in this very present daylight.

"I'm confused" he said to you with a laugh as he pulled off the Christmas ribbon and opened the small box. A breathe quickly ran back into his mouth as his eyes locked at what held itself in the small cardboard. "Are you really?" He quickly asked with a raised voice and a huge smile. You covered your mouth and gave a slight nod as the tears started to well in your eyes. "Oh my god" Andy finally shouted as he picked you up and spun you around the church grounds. As the moment you bad been waiting for finally felt present the snow started to fall from the sky.

"Andy look" you pointed out as he placed you back down but kept you close by.

"Snow" he replied back softly as he looked at the small pieces of white fall onto the city. "Its a Christmas miracle! Where going to have a baby!" He shouted with a laugh as he kissed your lips for one last time. Your faces on each others felt like ice cubes sat in the cold Arctic, but you didn't mind. This was your winter wonderland wedding, this was perfection, nothing was going to come in your way.

Hey guys! This is day 7 of the advent calendar 📅 I really hope you enjoyed this 😄 please leave feedback and requests as they are greatly appreciated 🥰 thank you for the recent support 😇 I hope you have a good day 🙏 merry Christmas 🎄 masterlist ❤️

@prettylittletrent @cornertakenquicklyyyy @trentalexanderarnold @robbo-trent-fanfiction26 @robbothegoat @kostasstsimikass @chelseamount @chloereddy @tsimikasfamily @avenirdelight @blueathens @jordanhendersunshine @mrs-henderson @thatonesexycancerian @hendersons1truelover @nyctophilic0vitnir @peekapeaches @tsimikxs @tsimikostas @trentalexarnofan @leddows @moneymasnn @superkittywonderland @virgilvansike @virgilvandickmedown @hopefulromantic1 @robbo38

#lfc imagines #lfc masterlist #liverpool imagines #lfc imagine #england fc imagines #england x reader #scotland fc imagines #scotland nt imagines #andy robertson x y/n #andy robertson x reader #andy robertson imagines #andy robertson imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagines #football fanfic #imagines #y/n

[springofstarlight]

Créachta Solas na Gealaí

[Wounds of Moonlight] A look into Fionntán's history and upbringing. Following the Selûnite tradition of sending a child into the forest to find their way home, Aodhán and Demetria stand watch while their only son makes his way home.

𝐵𝒢𝟥𝒲𝐼𝒫𝓈 - 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝓈𝑒 Showing an act of loyalty to their God(dess), elder, or someone they look up to.

1.5k words

“Do you think he’s doing okay?” 

The question came as a sigh as copper eyes peered towards the break in the forest, the winter pines stretched tall to the inky sea above, their narrow leaves boldly holding onto blankets of white. The darkness above peppered with the break of stars, and the boasting of the full moon, radiant and guiding…. That was what the purpose of the night was, guiding. Aodhán couldn’t deny he had been a little shocked when his wife had told him about the custom of her religion, sending children into the forests of home to find their way home, but Demetria trusted her Goddess and he trusted her. 

And little Fionntán? He was ecstatic. 

When Gealán tried to strike fear into the heart of the family's baby and yet Fin only grinned and snarled his teeth back. Freckled cheeks bright and dimples clear, showing his younger uncle that the boy truly did not understand the meaning of fear; Fionntán was as bold as he was stubborn, a both powerful and dangerous combination. Fionntán knew the forest well, likely better than most in the family, but in the dark was a whole new question, and yet the young lad particularly marched towards the starting point… silver dagger in hand, just in case. Aodhán had offered his own, taken the boys hands and folded the sheathed blade into the palms that had once been so much smaller, his son was slowly becoming a man, and a great one at that, but it didn’t stop the ache whenever he looked at that bright and awfully cheeky smile before the boy ran off into the woodland, waving back to his parents as if he had merely been sent to spend a day in the library. 

Thoughts of earlier that night became quickly displaced as he felt the delicate skin of his wife's hand sliding against his own, toughened and callased from his previous life sweating over a forge. She shot him an amused look over her shoulder, causing him to snort in return at how silly the question was in all honesty. He watched her pale eyes drift to the sky, the colour of moonlit snow, the same that she had gifted their son. Fionntán held her eyes and fair complexion and yet his skin held the many freckles of his father; marks that Aodhán would always kiss and smoosh, calling little sun stars until the boy giggled and frailed… one day he would be too old for that, he would huff and say his parents were embarrassing him, but that was okay, that was part of pulling away from parents and stepping into adulthood. Fionntán wouldn’t have to make the same choices his father did, or go without a parent’s love like his mother had… the boy would be kept safe, yet allowed to spread his wings, possibly too wide and too early at times, but that was okay… they would be there to catch him if he needed them. Aodhán took a breath as he felt his wife’s eyes shift from the sky to the shadows of the forest, and how they seemingly jerked and twitched at her acknowledgement… no, it wasn’t a movement as rough as that, they danced. Lifting his own head, Aodhán scanned the treeline for what Demetria saw but he could not… but he heard the single pluck of a violin string cascading across the thicket. Ah, of course. His brother-in-law was a mysterious man, cloaked in the shadows that he weaved but there was no denying how much he loved his family, and if he was watching then even if something went awry Fionntán would be safe. 

He laced his fingers tighter against Demetria’s fitting so perfectly into his and rested against her side, leaning his temple against her own. Her silvery hair tumbling against her shoulders and the wisps of thin strands tickling his nose as the pair watched the break in the tree for movement. The evening was cold, but in the north that was a given… it was always cold, something the southern born man had to adapt to, his skin had lost its slight brush of sun but the chilled mornings and blankets of snow were nothing worth complaining about when he woke up next to his love each morning, soon followed by the weight of their son throwing himself upon the bed and demanding their attention. Aodhán would withstand all the snow within the north for those moments, even if he had the odd grumble here and there. Copper eyes looked to the sky, the night drawing close to the highpoint of the moon as a fogged sigh left his lungs; he had not been born into the light of the Goddess of Silver, it was not something he understood but seeing the moon in the sky, chaperoned by all the stars… he could understand the comfort it offered.

A comfort that was soon shattered by the shriek that cut through the leaves, both adults ridged up and parted from one another, muscles taut and tense ready to pounce as another scream bounced across the thicket of snow. 

“Máthair! Athair! “

Stubby steps ran across the snow, the squeak of compressed powder ringing out with each hot breath that burnt his lungs but as the figure of unbridled adrenaline broke through and came into view, there were no tears, no terror etched into starlit eyes but only the brilliant excitement of achievement and determination; the boy had made it through the forest with no trouble, no issue, and no fear…. Be that by reaching for the Moonmaiden’s guidance as the trail was said to test or just the boy's sheer mulish attitude was undetermined but either way, Fionntán had achieved what he had set out to do, as the boy always did.

The foreboding anxiety that held the pair’s muscles steel taut thawed in that moment as he drew closer, strands of dark hair that had been neatly braided by his mother’s hands that afternoon now spilling across his shoulders with a souvenir or two of a leaf that had decided it too wanted to break free from the forest. The same colour as his own, though allowed to grow much longer, the boy no doubt following the influence of his elder uncle who still remained hidden up within the trees, keeping a last guard to make sure the boy made it safely into his parent’s arms… Or well, as close as possible.

“I did i-!” The victory fanfare from the boy found itself cut short, muffled by the fluff of snow as he fell down with a sudden ‘pluth’ of body meeting the layers of snow below, the top giving away to softness from recently deposited clouds but the underlayers remaining built up of weeks old ice. 

“Fionntán!” Aodhán pushed himself forward, boots thumping themselves through the snow as best they could to meet the boy’s unfortunate landing spot between them and the forest. Almost toppling off the balls of his feet as he crouched down to inspect as Fionntán was pulling himself out the snow, the dampness sticking to his hair and causing the dark strands to cling to his cheeks but that could be easily remedied by the warm bath and blankets they had prepared back at the house… what caused the man to gasp was the droplets of crimson that dribbled down the pale skin, from his lip and rolling down his chin to the snow below so striking against the disturbed blanket that the shaken man was sure he could hear audible ‘plops’ with each new bead. “Fin…” Aodhán sighed softly as he brought his sleeve to the boy’s chin, attempting to wipe as much as he could but the blood showed no signs of slowing, the wound against his lower lip deep but the boy merely blinked and smiled, a little less bright, a little bit more quivering as he shook his head. 

“I’m alright Athair, promise.” He reassured as he peered up, smiling to his mother who stood at her husband’s side and offering him a kiss on the head as the cold and blooded child was brought up into his father’s arms, sleeve still pressed as best as it could against his lip despite Fin’s best efforts to pull away so he could carry on with his impressive ramblings about his adventure and how he had followed the guiding star and the moon kept his path lit, a path now stained with his blood. It sat in a puddle against the snow, seeping deeper until the flakes themselves soaked scarlet against the gleaming moonlight… but the family did not look back, even as the shadows rejoiced in the victory and the wind scattered through the narrow leaves. Only the faint chuckle from the woman who kept close to her husband and son, any tears that would have spilled at the sight of his injury pushed away by the boy’s attempt to chew on his father’s sleeve, to hold it to his wound, and then spit it out so he could start his chattering again, only to be silenced by his other pressing her finger to his nose and shuffling the fabric compress back into place.

“You can tell me more once Gealán has seen to your wound.” 

“Do you promise?”

“Promise.” 

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tav #tavqotd #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3fiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic

[niamflopped]

By Neil McCormick, Music Critic, The Daily Telegraph

9 November 2022

“Do you mind if I smoke?” asks Louis Tomlinson, tapping cigarette ash into an empty Coke bottle. “The modern man smokes a vape, apparently. But I still smoke ciggies. I’m a judgemental fucker, and I hate vapers.”

The former One Direction boyband star certainly does like a cigarette, getting through half a dozen during an hour-long encounter in a hotel boardroom that reeks of stale tobacco.  “Maybe I drink too much for a singer. Maybe I smoke too much for a singer. But it can be quite demanding, this life. So, for me to have those little vices, it’s important.”

Scruffily unshaven, in gym wear and trainers, the 30-year-old hops up to open a window, while chatting away in a friendly and engaged manner. “I never really chose this life,” he insists, with a strong Doncaster accent (though he lives in Hertfordshire now). “I auditioned for X Factor and crossed me fingers. And now, here I am.”

In 2010, at the age of 18, Tomlinson and four other young hopefuls (Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Liam Payne and Zayn Malik) were assembled into a boyband mentored by entertainment impresario Simon Cowell. Although they didn’t win the talent show, their impish appeal saw them rise to become the most successful manufactured group of the modern era, achieving levels of fan mania comparable to the early days of The Beatles.

Together for five frenzied years, 1D have scored four number one albums, sold more than 200 million records worldwide, notched up over 21 billion streams, won seven BRIT awards and their final tour in 2015 grossed over $200  million (£173 million) in revenue. For a time, Tomlinson’s floppy fringe adorned teenage bedrooms all over the planet. There was considerable hysteria when 1D said they were taking a “hiatus”, citing exhaustion.

Tomlinson was the oldest member (two years Styles’s senior) with the shakiest voice but adored by fans for his genuine smile, wacky fashions and undisguised pleasure at being part of the gang.

Styles had a cheeky swagger, Malik was the sensuous R&B singer, Horan the folkie-next-door, whilst Payne was a cocky Jack the lad (whose solo career has been a bit of a washout). As time went by, Tomlinson shed insecurities to get more involved in songwriting, helping push 1D’s pop rock side.

His second solo album, Faith in the Future (out on Friday) dials up the guitars, building on his chart-topping 2020 solo debut album Walls, inspired by Britpop and indie, the music of his pre-fame youth. It is not a sound you would particularly associate with 1D. “I don’t relate to right-down-the-middle pop,” he admits. “But I wouldn’t say that was dumbed down in One Direction. Maybe I dumbed it down myself. Maybe I assumed I couldn’t be exactly who I was.”

Tomlinson was the last of the five members to release an album, and reveals that he was a reluctant solo artist, upset by the band’s decision to separate at the height of their world-beating success in 2016. “It was a bit daunting. I’d just got to a stage where I really started to feel like I found my rhythm, I was enjoying songwriting, I felt like I finally worked out where I am in that band. And then it’s like: ‘Okay, well, now we’re going on a break.’ So there was a bit of petulance from my end, I was frustrated.”

He admits that he has felt competitive with his former bandmates and been jealous of Styles’s enormous solo success. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me at first. Only ’cos I didn’t know where to place myself, and really my only point of reference was other members of the band. But it’s not surprising to me that Harry's the most commercially successful because he really fits the mould of a modern star. He’s not just doing music, he’s got film as well, and the (stadium) tour he’s done is unbelievable. It took me a while to work out where I stand. But I look on Harry like a brother, man. I have a lot of pride for what he’s doing.”

He says band members are quietly supportive of each other. “I’m sure the lads will text me when the album comes out, we check in on each other, we’re good like that. I bumped into Niall (Horan) at Glastonbury, and even though we hadn’t spoken all year, it was like absolutely no time had passed. Because we've lived through such experiences together in One Direction, this bond that we have is for life.”

Tomlinson has had other issues to focus on. In 2016, his mother Johannah Deakin, a midwife, died from leukaemia, aged 43. His parents separated when he was a child, and Tomlinson is estranged from his father, a hotel manager.

He has seven younger half-siblings, one of whom, Félicité Tomlinson, died of an accidental drug overdose in 2019. “I’m coping good, man,” he says. “I’m a glass half-full person because what’s the alternative? I’m not saying that there have not been some dark days, because there have. But I had a really lovely upbringing, and my mum was as good as gold.

“Even though she’s not here anymore, I wouldn’t want her to feel guilty for what happened. She wouldn’t want that to define my life and my happiness.”

He also feels a sense of responsibility to his family. “I’m the oldest of all my siblings, and I knew that I had to put on a brave face.”

Nonetheless, Tomlinson, who is also father to a five-year-old son, whom he shares with his ex-girlfriend, confesses wariness when it comes to talking about it. “It carries its own weight emotionally and I’m wanting to escape that because I don’t want people f-----g feeling sorry for me.”

There have been some exceedingly odd aspects to being a boyband superstar. A strand of online fan fiction imagined a passionate affair between Tomlinson and Styles, which was subsequently depicted in a graphic, animated sequence on hit HBO series Euphoria.

Another piece of 1D fanfiction is being adapted for forthcoming movie The Idea of You, starring Anne Hathaway as an older woman having an affair with a boyband star. “It’s weird, all that s---,” tuts Tomlinson, disapprovingly. “But there’s not much you can do about it. I’d rather they didn’t, like, but it is what it is. I won’t be watching it.”

******

Same old, same old

Smokes heavily in interview ✅

Defends and dismisses his smoking and his alcohol consumption, and displays no awareness of their impact on his vocals or general health ✅

Demonstrates jealousy of Harry ✅

Makes sure Larries know he disapproves of them and thinks of Harry as a 'brother', not a boyfriend ✅

Shades Harry, this time by saying he's had 'the most commercial success' when Harry has also had far and away the most critical acclaim too. ✅

Swears heavily ✅

Looks scruffy, dressed in a tracksuit ✅

Asserts that he's Mr Optimism✅

States that he wants a 1d reunion ✅

Doesn't talk in depth about his writing & recording process because other people do that for him ✅

Says he was upset when 1d went on hiatus ✅

New for 9/11/22:

Describes Briana as his ex girlfriend!

#louis tomlinson telegraph #louis tomlinson #harry styles #niall horan #lt2 #zayn #silver tongues #1d reunion #faith in the future

[louisupdates]

Louis Tomlinson on his new album, struggling with fame and a One Direction reunion

The boyband star on his love of rock music, finding his own voice outside of One Direction, losing close family and fame's strangest moments

BY NEIL MCCORMICK (9.11.22)

“Do you mind if I smoke?” asks Louis Tomlinson, tapping cigarette ash into an empty Coke bottle. “The modern man smokes a vape, apparently. But I still smoke ciggies. I’m a judgemental f---er, and I hate vapers.”

He's kidding, but the former One Direction boyband star certainly does like a cigarette, getting through half a dozen during an hour-long encounter in a hotel boardroom that reeks of stale tobacco. “Maybe I drink too much for a singer. Maybe I smoke too much for a singer. But it can be quite demanding, this life. So, for me to have those little vices, it’s important.”

Tomlinson is getting ready for the release this week of his second solo album, Faith in The Future. He seems both nervous and excited. “The lows are lower in a solo career, but the highs are higher,” he suggests. “Because you are not one of 4 or 5 anymore, you have to take full responsibility for everything, so it hits you at both ends.”

Scruffily unshaven, in gym wear and trainers, the 30-year-old hops up to open a window, while chatting away in a friendly and engaged manner. “I never really chose this life,” he insists, with a strong Doncaster accent (though he lives in Hertfordshire now). “I auditioned for X Factor and crossed me fingers. And now, here I am.”

In 2010, at the age of 18, Tomlinson and four other young hopefuls (Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Liam Payne and Zayn Malik) were assembled into a boyband mentored by entertainment impresario Simon Cowell. Although they didn’t win the talent show, their impish appeal saw them rise to become the most successful manufactured group of the modern era, achieving levels of fan mania comparable to the early days of The Beatles.

Together for five frenzied years, 1D have scored four number one albums, sold more than 200 million records worldwide, notched up over 21 billion streams, won seven BRIT awards and their final tour in 2015 grossed over $200  million (£173 million) in revenue. For a time, Tomlinson’s floppy fringe adorned teenage bedrooms all over the planet. There was considerable hysteria when 1D said they were taking a “hiatus”, citing exhaustion.

Tomlinson was the oldest member (two years Styles’s senior) with the shakiest voice but adored by fans for his genuine smile, wacky fashions and undisguised pleasure at being part of the gang. Styles had a cheeky swagger, Malik was the sensuous R&B singer, Horan the folkie-next-door, whilst Payne was a cocky Jack the Lad (whose solo career has been a bit of a washout). As time went by, Tomlinson shed insecurities to get more involved in songwriting, helping push 1D’s pop rock side.

Faith in the Future (out on Friday) dials up the guitars, building on his chart-topping 2020 solo debut album Walls, inspired by Britpop and indie, the music of his pre-fame youth. “I used to spend all my Friday nights in this place called Priory, it was f---ing unbelievable: £10 all you can drink! That’s been banned now. It was in that bar where I fell in love with guitar music.” 

Although he retains a fondness for a big chorus, it is not a sound you would particularly associate with 1D. “I don’t relate to right-down-the-middle pop,” he admits. “But I wouldn’t say that was dumbed down in One Direction. Maybe I dumbed it down myself. Maybe I assumed I couldn’t be exactly who I was.”

Tomlinson was the last of the five members to release an album, and reveals that he was a reluctant solo artist, upset by the band’s decision to separate at the height of their world-beating success in 2016. 

“It was a bit daunting. I’d just got to a stage where I really started to feel like I found my rhythm, I was enjoying songwriting, I felt like I finally worked out where I am in that band. And then it’s like: ‘Okay, well, now we’re going on a break.’ So there was a bit of petulance from my end, I was frustrated.”

He admits that he has felt competitive with his former bandmates and been jealous of Styles’s enormous solo success. 

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me at first. Only ’cos I didn’t know where to place myself, and really my only point of reference was other members of the band. But it’s not surprising to me that Harry's the most commercially successful because he really fits the mould of a modern star. 

"He’s not just doing music, he’s got film as well, and the (stadium) tour he’s done is unbelievable. It took me a while to work out where I stand. But I look on Harry like a brother, man. I have a lot of pride for what he’s doing.”

He says band members are quietly supportive of each other. “I’m sure the lads will text me when the album comes out, we check in on each other, we’re good like that. I bumped into Niall (Horan) at Glastonbury, and even though we hadn’t spoken all year, it was like absolutely no time had passed. Because we've lived through such experiences together in One Direction, this bond that we have is for life.”

Tomlinson has had other issues to focus on. In 2016, his mother Johannah Deakin, a midwife, died from leukaemia, aged 43. His parents separated when he was a child, and Tomlinson is estranged from his father, a hotel manager. He has seven younger half-siblings, one of whom, Félicité Tomlinson, died of an accidental drug overdose in 2019. 

“I’m coping good, man,” he says. “I’m a glass half-full person because what’s the alternative? I’m not saying that there have not been some dark days, because there have. But I had a really lovely upbringing, and my mum was as good as gold.

“Even though she’s not here anymore, I wouldn’t want her to feel guilty for what happened. She wouldn’t want that to define my life and my happiness.”

He also feels a sense of responsibility to his family. “I’m the oldest of all my siblings, and I knew that I had to put on a brave face.” Nonetheless, Tomlinson, who is also father to a five-year-old son, whom he shares with his ex-girlfriend, confesses wariness when it comes to talking about it. “It carries its own weight emotionally and I’m wanting to escape that because I don’t want people f-----g feeling sorry for me.”

He addressed grief on 2019 single Two of Us, but has consciously sought out more upbeat subject matter for Faith in the Future, on songs including The Greatest, Lucky Again, Out of My System and mercurial indie rocker Silver Tongues. 

“I have become a bit of a soundboard for people’s grief, so I’m kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place. Because if I can help other people just from a little conversation about my own individual experience, that’s great, I really want to be there to help. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a burden.”

Tomlinson has been thoroughly enjoying being back on the road. “Performing live was always my favourite thing. I’ve had to build it back up, because I’ve never toured on my own, I had to relearn my craft and what the show needed. So it’s not as if I went into small theatres and thought, I used to play Wembley stadium, I’ve f---ing failed! I was having too much fun.”

He jokes about not even noticing if there has been any change in the level of luxury as he has shifted from one of the biggest bands in the world to a solo artist determined to prove himself. 

“Hotel rooms can be kind of lonely when you’re moving all the time, so it doesn’t matter how luxurious it is. I sleep on the tourbus, cause that’s where my band are, so its really social. It’s a f---ing lovely tourbus!” Next year he will be back onboard, touring Britain’s arenas. “It’s all going the right way, and I’m thankful to be here, doing what I love. It doesn’t feel as manic as it did in One Direction, but I still get recognised everywhere I go, so not much has changed.”

Like many stars, he’s conflicted about fame. “It’s something I have struggled to deal with over the years. If I go to the pub with me mates and we’re having a drink and being social, it doesn’t matter if just one person stops and is like, ‘Oh it’s Louis, can we have a picture?’ It takes me outside of that normality. Just one photo can kind of bug me for the next half hour. But I’m still ambitious, and if that means raising the temperature (of fame) again, it’s a little bit daunting, but that’s the life.”

There have been some exceedingly odd aspects to being a boyband superstar. A strand of online fan fiction imagined a passionate affair between Tomlinson and Styles, which was subsequently depicted in a graphic, animated sequence on hit HBO series Euphoria. Another piece of 1D fanfiction is being adapted for forthcoming movie The Idea of You, starring Anne Hathaway as an older woman having an affair with a boyband star. 

“It’s weird, all that s---,” tuts Tomlinson, disapprovingly. “But there’s not much you can do about it. I’d rather they didn’t, like, but it is what it is. I won’t be watching it.”

Tomlinson is excited about his new music, raving “I can imagine some of these songs being on albums by bands I would have listened to as a kid. It took me a second to find my feet after One Direction, and realise I need to be brave enough to embrace what I love.” 

He says he thinks about success differently now. “Its all about musical fulfilment. When you’re one of four or five, it's hard to express yourself as an individual. This music is who I am.”

He still expects One Direction to eventually reunite. “When you look at it on paper, it’s like, ‘How the f---’s it all gonna fit back together?’ We’re all making very different music, doing our own thing, all busy all the time. So I don’t see anything happening for at least another 10 years, but you never know. It looks pretty jumbled. But I think there is a world where it all kind of fits together.”

Full article

#louis press #telegraph #neil mccormick #9 november 2022 #sorry just catching up

[28whitepeonies]

Louis Tomlinson on his new album, struggling with fame and a One Direction reunion

The boyband star on his love of rock music, finding his own voice outside of One Direction, losing close family and fame's strangest moments. (By Neil McCormick @ The Telegraph)

“Do you mind if I smoke?” asks Louis Tomlinson, tapping cigarette ash into an empty Coke bottle. “The modern man smokes a vape, apparently. But I still smoke ciggies. I’m a judgemental fucker, and I hate vapers.”

He'd kidding, but the former One Direction boyband star certainly does like a cigarette, getting through half a dozen during an hour-long encounter in a hotel boardroom that reeks of stale tobacco. “Maybe I drink too much for a singer. Maybe I smoke too much for a singer. But it can be quite demanding, this life. So, for me to have those little vices, it’s important.”

Tomlinson is getting ready for the release this week of his second solo album, Faith in The Future. He seems both nervous and excited. “The lows are lower in a solo career, but the highs are higher,” he suggests. “Because you are not one of 4 or 5 anymore, you have to take full responsibility for everything, so it hits you at both ends.”

Scruffily unshaven, in gym wear and trainers, the 30-year-old hops up to open a window, while chatting away in a friendly and engaged manner. “I never really chose this life,” he insists, with a strong Doncaster accent (though he lives in Hertfordshire now). “I auditioned for X Factor and crossed me fingers. And now, here I am.”

In 2010, at the age of 18, Tomlinson and four other young hopefuls (Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Liam Payne and Zayn Malik) were assembled into a boyband mentored by entertainment impresario Simon Cowell. Although they didn’t win the talent show, their impish appeal saw them rise to become the most successful manufactured group of the modern era, achieving levels of fan mania comparable to the early days of The Beatles.

Together for five frenzied years, 1D have scored four number one albums, sold more than 200 million records worldwide, notched up over 21 billion streams, won seven BRIT awards and their final tour in 2015 grossed over $200  million (£173 million) in revenue. For a time, Tomlinson’s floppy fringe adorned teenage bedrooms all over the planet. There was considerable hysteria when 1D said they were taking a “hiatus”, citing exhaustion.

A reluctant solo artist: Louis Tomlinson (centre) was upset with One Direction's decision to separate in 2016

Tomlinson was the oldest member (two years Styles’s senior) with the shakiest voice but adored by fans for his genuine smile, wacky fashions and undisguised pleasure at being part of the gang. Styles had a cheeky swagger, Malik was the sensuous R&B singer, Horan the folkie-next-door, whilst Payne was a cocky Jack the lad (whose solo career has been a bit of a washout). As time went by, Tomlinson shed insecurities to get more involved in songwriting, helping push 1D’s pop rock side.

Faith in the Future (out on Friday) dials up the guitars, building on his chart-topping 2020 solo debut album Walls, inspired by Britpop and indie, the music of his pre-fame youth. “I used to spend all my Friday nights in this place called Priory, it was fucking unbelievable: £10 all you can drink! That’s been banned now. It was in that bar where I fell in love with guitar music.”

Although he retains a fondness for a big chorus, it is not a sound you would particularly associate with 1D. “I don’t relate to right-down-the-middle pop,” he admits. “But I wouldn’t say that was dumbed down in One Direction. Maybe I dumbed it down myself. Maybe I assumed I couldn’t be exactly who I was.”

Tomlinson was the last of the five members to release an album, and reveals that he was a reluctant solo artist, upset by the band’s decision to separate at the height of their world-beating success in 2016.

“It was a bit daunting. I’d just got to a stage where I really started to feel like I found my rhythm, I was enjoying songwriting, I felt like I finally worked out where I am in that band. And then it’s like: ‘Okay, well, now we’re going on a break.’ So there was a bit of petulance from my end, I was frustrated.”

He admits that he has felt competitive with his former bandmates and been jealous of Styles’s enormous solo success.

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me at first. Only ’cos I didn’t know where to place myself, and really my only point of reference was other members of the band. But it’s not surprising to me that Harry's the most commercially successful because he really fits the mould of a modern star.

"He’s not just doing music, he’s got film as well, and the (stadium) tour he’s done is unbelievable. It took me a while to work out where I stand. But I look on Harry like a brother, man. I have a lot of pride for what he’s doing.”

He says band members are quietly supportive of each other. “I’m sure the lads will text me when the album comes out, we check in on each other, we’re good like that. I bumped into Niall (Horan) at Glastonbury, and even though we hadn’t spoken all year, it was like absolutely no time had passed. Because we've lived through such experiences together in One Direction, this bond that we have is for life.”

Louis Tomlinson with his mother Johannah Deakin who died of leukaemia in 2016

Tomlinson has had other issues to focus on. In 2016, his mother Johannah Deakin, a midwife, died from leukaemia, aged 43. His parents separated when he was a child, and Tomlinson is estranged from his father, a hotel manager. He has seven younger half-siblings, one of whom, Félicité Tomlinson, died of an accidental drug overdose in 2019.

“I’m coping good, man,” he says. “I’m a glass half-full person because what’s the alternative? I’m not saying that there have not been some dark days, because there have. But I had a really lovely upbringing, and my mum was as good as gold.

“Even though she’s not here anymore, I wouldn’t want her to feel guilty for what happened. She wouldn’t want that to define my life and my happiness.”

He also feels a sense of responsibility to his family. “I’m the oldest of all my siblings, and I knew that I had to put on a brave face.” Nonetheless, Tomlinson, who is also father to a five-year-old son, whom he shares with his ex-girlfriend, confesses wariness when it comes to talking about it. “It carries its own weight emotionally and I’m wanting to escape that because I don’t want people fucking feeling sorry for me.”

He addressed grief on 2019 single Two of Us, but has consciously sought out more upbeat subject matter for Faith in the Future, on songs including The Greatest, Lucky Again, Out of My System and mercurial indie rocker Silver Tongues.

“I have become a bit of a soundboard for people’s grief, so I’m kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place. Because if I can help other people just from a little conversation about my own individual experience, that’s great, I really want to be there to help. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a burden.”

Tomlinson has been thoroughly enjoying being back on the road. “Performing live was always my favourite thing. I’ve had to build it back up, because I’ve never toured on my own, I had to relearn my craft and what the show needed. So it’s not as if I went into small theatres and thought, I used to play Wembley stadium, I’ve fucking failed! I was having too much fun.”

He jokes about not even noticing if there has been any change in the level of luxury as he has shifted from one of the biggest bands in the world to a solo artist determined to prove himself.

“Hotel rooms can be kind of lonely when you’re moving all the time, so it doesn’t matter how luxurious it is. I sleep on the tourbus, cause that’s where my band are, so its really social. It’s a fucking lovely tourbus!” Next year he will be back onboard, touring Britain’s arenas. “It’s all going the right way, and I’m thankful to be here, doing what I love. It doesn’t feel as manic as it did in One Direction, but I still get recognised everywhere I go, so not much has changed.”

Like many stars, he’s conflicted about fame. “It’s something I have struggled to deal with over the years. If I go to the pub with me mates and we’re having a drink and being social, it doesn’t matter if just one person stops and is like, ‘Oh it’s Louis, can we have a picture?’ It takes me outside of that normality. Just one photo can kind of bug me for the next half hour. But I’m still ambitious, and if that means raising the temperature (of fame) again, it’s a little bit daunting, but that’s the life.”

There have been some exceedingly odd aspects to being a boyband superstar. A strand of online fan fiction imagined a passionate affair between Tomlinson and Styles, which was subsequently depicted in a graphic, animated sequence on hit HBO series Euphoria. Another piece of 1D fanfiction is being adapted for forthcoming movie The Idea of You, starring Anne Hathaway as an older woman having an affair with a boyband star.

“It’s weird, all that shit,” tuts Tomlinson, disapprovingly. “But there’s not much you can do about it. I’d rather they didn’t, like, but it is what it is. I won’t be watching it.”

Tomlinson is excited about his new music, raving “I can imagine some of these songs being on albums by bands I would have listened to as a kid. It took me a second to find my feet after One Direction, and realise I need to be brave enough to embrace what I love.”

He says he thinks about success differently now. “Its all about musical fulfilment. When you’re one of four or five, it's hard to express yourself as an individual. This music is who I am.”

He still expects One Direction to eventually reunite. “When you look at it on paper, it’s like, ‘How the fuck’s it all gonna fit back together?’ We’re all making very different music, doing our own thing, all busy all the time. So I don’t see anything happening for at least another 10 years, but you never know. It looks pretty jumbled. But I think there is a world where it all kind of fits together.”

#here it is #the full article #for obvious reasons I’m not providing a link #no edits obv #well that’s not true #I have now edited the swear words back in #because the censoring was driving me demented #Louis Tomlinson #I’m posting this mainly because it’s from #the telegraph #and I’d like to do as much as possible to stop people posting that paper #it’s quite long #faith in the future #09 November 2022 #Neil McCormick

[valsedelesruines]

All the young folks at work are swapping uni stories which has made me nostalgic. 

Some of the memories in no particular order: cheesy chips; 2 am sprinting; thousands of kisses; kissing boys; kissing girls; college songs in the pub; the swan and three cygnets; strongbow and taddy’s and carlsberg and stella; strip clubs and maccies in Newc; swapping shirts with girls; sleeping in girls beds; chunder charts; alcopop waterfalls; kicked out of club for breaking in; kicked out of club for naughtiness; kicked out of men’s bathroom; stealing ornaments from loveshack christmas tree; stomach bugs; laundry lines; rooftop break-ins; oranges in my nightclub purse; homecoming king; hundreds of trains; chants on the cobblestones; stilettoes on Geordie girls on icy cobblestones; henry hoover; drunk chats in the smoking area; formal gowns; formal spooning; chunder in the soup next to me; chunder on the wall in my home; chunder in the sink; hand-painted shirts for dancing; belly dancing; break dancing; street dancing; dancing in the street alone; sticking to the floors of klute; picking up pounds off the floor of klute; taking pret sandwiches off the street; taking glassware and sweaters off the street; using glassware and wearing sweaters found in the street; drawing on eyebrows; drinking and crying; crying and drinking; shitty decorations from poundland; bonfire night fireworks on the sands; running away from the fireworks; skipping class to audition for BBC game shows; dixie chicken; urban oven; subway; baked beans; shitty lentils and rice everyday; skepta and bugzy malone; stopping in the middle of the road at midnight to lie down and look at the stars; that being my last memory of you before you died; a lovely funeral and a ruined song; spicy curries; panic attacks; shwarma wraps; morning after pills; IUDs; 3 hours in A&E; vodka ice cream licked off my leg at a rounders game; campus tours through the cathedral cloisters; fattened up by dining hall meals; swapping last nights stories at saturday brunch; hash browns and fried eggs and tomatoes and baked beans; picassos in the hallways; lonely walks by the river; helping chickens cross the road; rewarded by courgettes from the allotments; pinching blackberries to make jam; the lads; cheeky nandos; tinder swipes; yik yaks; free apple sourz from the prison guard; long island ice tea pitchers at spoons; vegan sweet potato casserole; halloween pumpkins for pumpkin pie; monster mash in klute; lumiere; siberian winters; you knocking on in the middle of the night; the first time you said you loved me; valentines formal; observatory hill; the cheeky girls; the wicker man; mudlarking the Wear; fajita fridays; running under stopped lorries; back to backs; snowdrops and crocuses; “down it fresher”; “spillage is lickage”; spliffs in shitty apartments; traffic cones in the dormitory showers; poetry open mics; life drawing; toasties; yu-gi-oh games; big tescos; archaeology, I suppose; “what freedom!”

#mine #thoughts #uni #durham #cant share any of my best uni stories as they are not appropriate for work #ah well