#ahhh the loveliness of rain

[happyheidi]

(via)

#cottagecore #ahhh the loveliness of rain #nature #naturecore #Rain #beautiful #flowers #photography #flowercore #forestcore

[sneezefiction]

dance with me

Bokuto x Reader - Scenario

event request: “Can you do prompt 2. Dance with me for Bokuto?? Congrats btw!”

a/n: i’m always down to write anything for Bokuto, bb. enjoy some fluffy, slow-dancing moments with your fiancé, Bo, for me please, love!!

warnings: mentions of marriage & engagements

wc: 1350

---

“Y/n, can you set that down for a minute?” Bokuto’s grin peeks over the top of your paperback book as he pushes it down with his hands.

“But Bo, I’m at the best part!” You whine, pulling it towards your chest, away from his grasp.

He’s leaning over you now, a signature pout adorning his expression. You try not to look up, but you can’t help it.

No.

Not those eyes.

His puppy-dog expression tugs at your heartstrings in the worst way. His eyebrows are knitted together with such sorrow, imploring you to give him your undivided attention.

“For me? Please.” He’s begging. Again, a puppy-dog. 

“I just want to be with you…” His head is tilted, eyes pleading.

You sigh helplessly. So needy.

But you give him a soft smile, gently marking the chapter and setting aside your beloved book for the boy you love even more.

His eyes light up immediately, Bokuto’s smile is beaming at full-force once again. Just as it should be.

“Fine-” 

As soon as he gets verbal confirmation, he’s grabbing you firmly by the underneath of your thighs and lifting you up off the couch causing you to gasp. Your balance is thrown completely off. He laughs as you frantically tuck your legs behind his back and throw your arms around his neck to keep yourself from falling backward.

With that, you give him a frustrated frown, but the moment his eyes crinkle with mischief, you know you’re in trouble. He squeezes your thighs, tickling you, which forces you to abandon your forced frown and sends you into a bout of bubbling laughter.

A peachy blush forms across his grinning face at the sound of your voice, even though he’s the one who’s supposed to be getting you flustered. Bokuto buries his face into the crook of your neck, drawing your body even closer to his. You tighten your hold around his neck, loving the way his soft, grey hair brushes against your face.

Bokuto is always trying to find new ways to incite that divine sound. 

It’s like music to his ears… 

Music...

“AH MUSIC.” He blurts out, jolting his head back to face you, a flash of excitement glimmering in his golden-yellow eyes.

His sudden movement shouldn’t have startled you since he’s almost never calm for more than a few seconds, but you still haven’t fully adapted to his chaotic tendencies.

“Babe, what?” You question, cocking an eyebrow at his goofy expression. 

“Ahhh, just come with me!” He expresses impatiently.

“Bo, you’re literally carrying me.” You state, but not without a laugh.

So he sets you down gently, allowing your feet to meet the floor before immediately dashing to the next room over, leaving you confused and wondering what your boisterous sweetheart was getting you into this time.

But in all truth, you’ve never loved someone more.

Before Bokuto, you’d always fallen for short-term lovers. “Bad boys,” as Bokuto now cheesily refers to them as.

It was easy to fall for their mysterious, eye-catching personalities and attractive faces. 

They promised you pretty things. Long, steamy nights in dim-lit hotel rooms. Flirty, messy kisses in darkened theaters. Yes, your past boyfriend’s showered you in dirty, devoted promises about what they would do to you.

But it was never about what they would do for you.

You would always end up wishing for more. For something beautiful to happen in the slower, cloudier moments of life. For someone to last longer than the sunny, sensual seconds…

Yet they never stuck around to share the little things. You were always racing against time. Any ounce of conflict or trouble would crumble the already shaky foundation of your relationship.

It was never like that with Bokuto.

It didn’t bother him if you were sick, blowing your nose for 4 days straight or leaning over a toilet seat. He was there. Never leaving you alone except to get groceries or medicine. Holding your hair back and buying you boxes of tissues and cough drops. He would gladly catch a cold for you.

It didn’t matter that you were trapped inside your apartment on your 2 year anniversary, sheets of pouring rain coasting across the window panes, the weather laughing at your attempts to go out. Bokuto was impossible to faze in moments like these. He lit candles across the kitchen counter-tops when the power gave out and wrapped his arms around your shoulders as you concocted a dessert of some sort. You two consumed ungodly amounts of cookie dough that night and shared in celebratory chocolate kisses.

It didn’t change when you were grief-stricken. When you’d locked yourself behind a closet door, sobbing and mourning your most recent loss. He would sit on the opposite side of the door. Waiting for you. Crying with you. That small space under the door? Bokuto used it to feel around for your fingers, linking them together with his digits when he found them. That day, and many times after, he coaxed you out of real and metaphorical closets with loving, gentle words. 

It’s why you chose to set that precious book down today. 

It’s why you let him hold you whenever he’s feeling needy or lonely, a knowing smile etched onto your face.

It’s why you decided to put on that gold-laced engagement ring. Why you accepted his teary-eyed marriage proposal months ago.

Because for so long, you couldn’t see yourself with anyone for more than a couple months at most. It always seemed to end no matter how much effort you put into your side of the relationship.

Yet Bo gave you every reason to believe that he would stick around, making you feel like you always had a place by his side. That you were always wanted. Worthy of a lifelong commitment. 

And whether you liked it or not, he would’ve bugged you until you agreed to marry him, so it’s probably a good thing you accepted the first time around.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts because just as soon as he had raced out of the room, he’s back with a newfound energy, hands full with a massive Bluetooth speaker and a fully-charged phone.

The moment it’s set up, he’s choosing a song. His eyes dash through all of his beloved playlists labeled with strangely specific names. You peer over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the one he’s scrolling through.

The playlist is titled “Dance With Me.”

You burst into another soft fit of giggles over the lovey-dovey name, causing him to turn his head, much like a curious owl.

He had the makings to be a charmer. And a cheeseball.

Both, for sure.

“Y/nnnn, don’t make fun of me! I need to practice for the wedding, don’t I?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you like a schoolboy with a crush.

A smile silently adorns your features.

With the click of a song, your ears are blessed with the melodic flow of R&B, thick with bluesy guitars and lyrical loveliness. A true slow jam, perfect for rocking on heels and leaning into broad shoulders.

You roll your eyes, throwing your arms around his neck for the 2nd time today.

“We’ve still got 8 months til we’re married, baby.” You remind him, your heart jumping at your own words. 

8 short months.

8 months until forever.

Forever with your favorite person.

And it doesn’t scare you. No, the flutters in your stomach are reassuring and brimming with excitement. 

You couldn’t wait.

So you rest your forehead against his, staring deeply into his contemplative orbs.

As you two sway to the beat, you can tell he’s thinking. Pondering that sentence. Cultivating a response. You can feel it in the way his thumbs stroke the sides of your hips in deliberation.

He’s searching your gaze and his own mind. Drawing a conclusion.

You just wait. Swaying to the beat, drinking in his almond, vanilla scent, patiently watching his thought process unfold before you.

“I just wish it were sooner.” He whispers, eyes locked on yours.

Oh.

Oh Bokuto.

You release your hold around his neck, slowly drawing your face away from his and moving your hands toward his features. The slow dancing pauses, his feet subconsciously planting themselves on the floor in curious anticipation of what’s to come.

Your knuckles stroke his cheekbones, causing him to flush slightly. Fingers brush against his jawline, your eyes now concentrated on his lips.

How dare he speak such beautiful things with that mouth. Always so smooth when you least expect it.

You lean in, giving him a soft peck, lingering on his lips for just for a moment. Enough to tease him. Because it’s so unfair of him to say things like that... 

When he knows full well that you would marry him right here, on the spot.

Under the broken chandelier in your dingy apartment’s living room, you would dedicate your whole life to him, vows and all, while twirling to a playlist called “Dance With Me.”

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @kaidasen, @miss-rin

(comment or send an ask to be added to my general tag list)

#haikyuu #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro #bokuto #bokuto fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #hq #hq scenarios #hq imagines #bokuto fanfiction #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #600 follower event #sneezefiction

[inevitably-johnlocked]

To celebrate mermay, any merman fic recs? Thanks ever so much, Steph!

Hi Nonny!! Ahhh, I sadly only know of a few for sure, but Alexx does have a list of some here! 

Check out what I have on my MFL list :)

Riptide Lover Remix: Firsthand Research by jinglebell (E, 1,779 w., 1 Ch. || Merfolk AU || Merman John, Interspecies Porn, Subtle Masochism, Huge Cock, Size Kink, Anal, Domination, Rough Sex, Prostate Massage, Forced Orgasm, Prostate Milking, PWP) – A Riptide Lover spinoff in which John is the undine. Sherlock is arse-fucked by a merman on an abandoned dock. He loves it. A companion piece to Riptide Lover.

Out in the Water by MojoFlower (E, 3,329 w., 1 Ch. || Merfolk / Pirate AU || Pirate Sherlock, Merman John, Anal, Rimming, Blowjobs, Interspecies Porn, First Time) – Shameless merman/pirate porn, y'all.

C. sapiens by patternofdefiance (E, 8,813 w. || Tentacles Porn, Magical Realism, Bottomlock, Anal / Tentacle Sex, Pheremones) – “A few weeks ago I would have thought you were impossible,” Sherlock begins, walking into the kitchen in his blue robe, and John – not quite catching on – wants to scoff and argue, No, actually, you are impossible, but then Sherlock continues: “But now I’d say you are improbable.” John thinks this might be flattering, if he could wrap his head around it, but he can’t – Sherlock is standing near, steaming his sun-baked-clean-sand smell, like the beach after rain, an alive smell, an other smell. It’s intoxicating, and John has been studiously avoiding it, but he can’t shift away now it’s so near. Now Sherlock’s so near. And then Sherlock ruins the probable-loveliness of his words and the definite-beauty of his presence by saying: “And by ‘improbable’ I mean ‘not yet scientifically acknowledged.’” Part 1 of Gifts from the Sea (BOOKMARKED, GREAT KINKY FIC)

Riptide Lover by jinglebell (E, 114,090 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Merfolk & Victorian AU || Mermaid Sherlock, Human John, BAMF John/Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Mild Gore, Dubious Interspecies Consent, Stockholm Syndrome, Dark Romance, Dubcon and Morality, Rough Sex, Abstract Mentions of Rape, Size Queen, Switchlock, Foot Fetish) – The year is 1866. When John becomes swept overboard, he never expects to encounter a living creature of myth. When the merman absconds with John, the lost sailor must use every tool at his disposal to convince Sherlock not to kill him. But it seems that killing John Watson is not what the deadly, beautiful creature has in mind at all...

Feel free to add your fave fics here, gang! <3

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #mermaid au #mermay #johnlock fic reqs #help steph find fics #Anonymous

[ladystarks]

I was tagged by the amazing @sansapotter to share my favorite jon x sansa fic moments. This was so difficult, because we have some quality fic out there, but here goes:

The first is from Duty and Love by @justadram, one of the most beautiful fics I have ever read. Not only is it so well written, it completely transports me into the period it’s taking place in.

She has always been lovely with Tully red hair with golden strands that catch the light, impossibly blue eyes, and skin as pale as milk. She’s even lovelier now. Her hair is styled in a somewhat simple, old fashioned manner, curled about the face and twisted and pinned up at the back. She goes without powder, which is surprising, but given that powdering is a practice which reduces many men and women’s hair in Jamaica to a gummy paste thanks to the humidity, he prefers the natural red of her hair unadorned. Indeed, it is not just her person that is unaltered by the artifices she once thought grand, her dress is also quite subdued. Her gown is a simple printed calico, a fabric most suited for these climes, cut low to expose her white petticoat, unremarkable except for the fact that she is in it, and he can’t avoid noticing her fine neck and the swell of her bosom and the nip of her waist. She was still a girl, when Robb married her, only just sixteen, but she’s a woman now. He can see that plain.

Jon finds himself standing before her, the very sort of lady that he was never meant to have, and he can’t speak or move towards her. Her eyes lift to him and he expects to see the little wrinkle form on the bridge of her nose that appears whenever she is displeased, but instead, she rises to her feet, her dress swinging like a bell, and hurries to him, arms outstretched.

“Mrs. Stark, I am…” he says, attempting to warn her how dusty he is from the road, but her arms are already about his shoulders, pulling him into her.

She is tall as well. Taller than when she stood at Robb’s side in the village church before the altar, where Robb’s parents once were married and countless other Starks before them.

“I’m sorry,” she says, as she draws back and clasps her hands before herself, regaining her composure. But her cheeks are rosy and he realizes that in his shock, he had stood with his arms hanging limply at his side, as if he was not glad of her. “It is just so good to see family.”

She never would have called him family before. Not even when her marriage to Robb united them in practice.

And the second fic I’ve chosen is Break Me Like a Promise by @misshoneywheeler. This fic is all Angst and smut and everything nice and made me cry the first (and probably second) time I read it. 

“Let me,” he says now when she moves to dismount, catching her waist with both hands before her foot can touch the mounting block. Heat flares through her instantly, every bit of longing and need she’s felt blazing to life at his touch until she thinks her body only a shell, encasing nothing but flame. He feels it as well, she knows he does, no matter how he tries to keep it from her. There are no secrets between them, not any longer, no matter that it’s been more than a moon since she last knew his touch.

As if orchestrated perfectly, the hem of her gown snags on the rough-hewn edge of the mounting block. Immediately, Jon kneels, freeing the cloth with careful hands, hands that once touched her just as carefully, that coaxed out her tangles and freed her from something she could not name. The storm has come to meet them, rain pattering onto the roof and outside the half open door. It cocoons them somehow, makes it seem as if nothing exists but this room, smelling sweetly of hay and full of the sounds of rain and horses and their own breathing. Her hands move of their own volition, reaching to spear through the soft mass of his hair. The ink-black curls make her hands look pale and fragile, but she feels only strong touching him. Why should she give him up? a rebellious part of her wonders. He leans into her touch, his eyes closed. She touches the line of his brows, runs a fingertip over the rich sweep of his lashes, down the long-ago-broken ridge of his nose, over scars and lines and skin.

“I have missed you so very much, Jon,” she whispers, and her hands echo the words, reacquainting themselves with the face she loves so well.

The change in him is immediate. It is as if he is a great beast that’s been chained and suddenly freed. With a broken groan, he pulls her to him, pressing his face into the soft swell of her abdomen before his hands find her hems and drag them up her legs, legs that are suddenly trembling and watery with anticipation. Impatience is in his every movement and it makes him rough and insistent, his mouth opening hot and wet over her through her smallclothes, sucking at her through the cloth until he lets her skirts drop about him so he can wrench her smallclothes down her legs and put his mouth on her bare flesh. She cries out his name, her voice breaking on the word. The heavy brocade of her gown hinders her, frustrates her; she wants to touch him, wants to feel him as his mouth disassembles her and creates her anew, but she can only grasp at him through the cloth, pulling him closer, wanting his tongue, his lips, wanting all of him on her and inside her.

So those are some of my favorite moments. AHHH there are so many. To continue, I’m tagging @nearly-headless-baron, @ariannemvrtells, @manbunjon, @butyouwillfly, @thefairfleming and @youre-my-immortal

#game of thrones #jon snow #Sansa Stark #actuallyjonsa #jonsa #fic #please go read these #They're amazing #And this level of writing is all I want to attain in life atm #These fics are so beautiful #I have to reread them now #help

[emerysmerkin]

The Holiday: Chapter 11

A Debt Repaid

Tortillilya has gone from a bustling port to complete and utter madness in the space of a day. It's like the whole city has turned into one giant erection party, but with extras. The streets are lined with stalls, and people dressed up in all sorts of different garb. From the instant Amy and Ash left their house she was accosted with new sights, sounds and smells. Music fills the air from seemingly every part of the island. The scent of food battles within her senses until she can't distinguish one smell from another. Her eyes aren't given a break either, everywhere she looks there are things she's never witnessed before and every colour she can dream of. Ash has managed to keep her close until she sees a shop selling second-hand masques tended to by olive skinned human with a ridiculous comb over. She darts off to look at it, hoping Ash's behind her. "Good afternoon beautiful young lady." The vendor’s accent is so thick, the only way she can place it is 'from the north somewhere'. He speaks with all the flourish of an Orisian, but the accent isn’t quite right. "Can I interest you in one of my magnificent masques? Perhaps this one in particular." He presents a pale purple beaked masque with huge dark purple plumes and gold inlays. It looks smaller than most others, maybe made specifically for halflings. Amy gawps at it for a second, "It's beautiful" "But not as much as you, in fact it would be an utter shame to cover such a face. But it is The Frenzy and sometimes there is a thrill in anonymity. This can be yours for a mere twenty gold." Ash has appears next to her just as the vendor finishes speaking. If he’s annoyed at her disappearing, it doesn't’ show it on his face. She grins at him, "I knew you'd find me." She turns back to the vendor, fully enraptured with the piece he’s holding. This man knows what his clients want before even they do. "May I try it on?" "It would be my honour." He says with a great flourish of his arms that almost gives her a face full of his sky blue doublet.

She turns around so he can put it on for her, with Ash watching she doesn't need to worry about him swiping her coin. His many rings clink together as he ties the silk behind her. It's heavy. Not so much the masque but the feathers, they are high enough to tickle Ash's nose. Amy wonders what manner of bird makes such large plumage, dire peacocks maybe. She laughs internally at the thought of a giant feral peacock. It's truly a beast to be feared.  The vendor ushers her towards a large mirror. Unfortunately, the pale purple of the masque makes her skin look washed out. Her lips however, naturally stand out and so does the darker purple plumes framing her face. It's a shame, if the shades were opposite, it'd look amazing. As it is, she feels like she looks sickly and that just won’t do. Her mother always said that it’s important to be comfortable and confident in your beauty, no matter the event, and a light coloured masque wouldn’t do that. "I dare say it is not an improvement on one so lovely as yourself but you do look magnificent." Amy smiles at the vendor, "You may take it off now. Thank you"

He delicately unties the back. "Do you like what you see?" "It's a little bit pale for my tastes" She looks at Ash, he seems to be waiting patiently. She suddenly has an idea. "Do you have any that are around midrange green? Not dark nor light, I'm sorry I'm not sure what the word is" "My lady green is such a pedestrian word, I have emeralds, turquoises, mints, saps…" The vendor drones on while Amy takes a sweeping look at all the masques in the store. There’s hundreds all facing her, all different types and pattern. Every one is unique in it’s beauty.

Halfway through him speaking Amy finds what she’s looking for, "There. Could I look at that one on the top shelf?" His eyes follow her gaze to a vibrant green masque, not dark or light, framed with an assortment of metal butterflies all of which produce a rainbow of colours but never once clashing. She grins while looking at it, "It just might be perfect." "But my lady this will be too big for your petite stature, I can find you something similar designed to fit the more dainty races." Amy raises her eyebrow at him, she's a lot of things but she doesn't think dainty is one of them. Ash's deep voice comes from over her shoulder. "The vendor is right, you are too dainty for that masque." "Dainty? Seriously? Dainty?” She huffs, she’ll show him how dainty she isn’t when she gets him back to the house. “Anyway, it's not for me"

He's lowering it down, gingerly. "A gift you say, well a magnificent gift it will make. Is it for your companion?" "My what? Oh. No." She turns to Ash, "Do you think Emery would like it?" "I do not know.” Ash looks at the store with dull, uninterested eyes. "Well what do you THINK?" He can be so obtuse sometimes, it’s infuriating. He turns to her, annoyance plain on his face. "I think I do not know." Luckily the vendor steps in before it can escalate, sensing blood in the water. "I believe if your friend has as good taste as yourself he would love it. If you are taking it over the water I can sell you the box I brought it over in for an additional five silvers? It is how much they cost me." "And the masque itself?" She looks over the masque closer. There's not a single flaw she can see. It's beautiful. Emery will love it. "This one is only thirty gold." The vendor gives her a little sideways smile. Amy laughs, it’s the ‘we both know it is worth more but I am giving you a bargain’ smile. This man is almost running off a script. Bloody merchants, Amy thinks, they’re worse than thieves.

She looks over the masque again, keeping her face passive, "Ah, that's a bit out of my price range. I can get a cask of my friends favourite wine for only twenty gold.” She turns to her companion, knowing he’ll say exactly what he wants her to and the vendor already has him pegged as an honest fool. “Ash, do you think he'll prefer wine more?" "Yes" Ash says flatly, now looking at the finer details of a horrifying masque made to look like a squid. Of course he’d be interested in the sea creatures, he’s so predictable and she adores him for it. "Oh you are both beautiful and cunning, I would ask you to be my wife but I am but a simply merchant and beneath such loveliness. I can give this masque to you for” He counts on his hand. “twenty eight gold." "That's still over eight gold more than the wine with the box. I think we will go to him instead. Thank you for your time sir."Ash pulls away from his tentacle masque and goes to leave. She feels his hand grasp for hers and she’s happy to give it to him. The vendor stretches out his arm, stopping them. "Wait, wait, wait. You haggle hard, perhaps it is best we do not marry.” He quickly umms and ahhhs “Twenty five gold plus the box." "That's still a five more than I wanted to pay" Amy pretends to think for a second, staring at Ash and running her thumb across his knuckles. "Throw in the box for free and we'll call it a deal" "You will make a pauper,” The vendor sulks, Amy almost feels bad, but this is all apart of the dance. Stefan quickly taught her that a merchant will never part with his goods willingly without a profit. “We have a deal." She grins at him and he goes to put the masque in the box. She gives him an extra two coppers to deliver it to the house tomorrow morning.

Once the transaction is complete, she curtseys to him and takes Ash's hand again as they leave the store, "One problem solved. We have Emery's gift" Ash’s thumb is running over the back of her hand, sending shivers up her arm. "But the wine would be cheaper, you said that on a number of occasions." "I have no idea how much the wine is and I prefer the masque. And could you imagine the pain and suffering Ellen would rain down on me if I bought Emery a cask of wine?" She shudders at the thought. "Then why did you give him a price for wine? I do not understand." They have been through this before. "I was haggling.” She gestures with her free hand, almost hitting a gnome in the face. Thank the gods for her quick reflexes. The last thing she needs is to get into a fist fight with a gnome, they cheat. “He knew as much as I did that I was pulling that number out my arse."

There is a large knot of people in the street and the pair have to shove through, temporarily unlinking their fingers. Amy’s hand feels cold and lonely the instant they break apart.  "Why do they tell you one price but are willing to lower it? Shouldn't they say that price to begin with? It is all baffling. I will stick to taking things at sword point. It is simpler" Ash gives a drunk a hard shove out of the way. Amy uses less brute force to get through the crowd, instead dodging around the legs of the larger races, sliding through gaps and barely touching anyone to get back to Ash’s side. "They start at a higher price and lower it because people will pay different things. I paid twenty five  gold, someone else may pay the thirty. Someone else may pay twenty. He could set the price at twenty gold, but then he's lost…" Amy counts on her fingers, "ten gold from the other two sales? No, fifteen. Fifteen?" They finally make their way out of the crowd and their hands entwine again, Amy’s hand is happy again. "Then why doesn't everyone haggle to the lowest possible price?" He sounds so confused, this must be what she sounds like to Mannistone all the time. "Because you pay what you think it's worth combined with what you think you can get away with. And it's fun.” Amy has to admit, the swindling of merchants for coppers is highly amusing and their fake flattery reminds her of home. That part makes her haggle harder. “It's something I'm still fully learning to do. Noble daughters generally don't haggle for their wares. Shopping with Emery has been a boon for me, he can haggle like an Asterian merchant." Now the street is less full he pulls her close. "I will stick to paying the stated price or just taking what I want." He’s given in trying to understand, so she resigns herself to having this conversation again in a moon. Amy rolls her eyes and cuddles into his side, not missing a step "And that is why I do our food shopping. What do you want to do now? I'm a bit overwhelmed by everything"

"Actually.” He stops speaking and thinks for a moment. Amy stops walking, curious.  “There is a place I would like to visit since it is The Frenzy. It will take a long time to get to in this crowd, so you do not have to come if you do not want to." "Where you go, I go, unless you specifically say you want to be alone." She squeezes his side as hard as she can, snuggling into his chest. . "I am glad you want to.” She can hear the smile in his voice. “We should buy some silk on the way." "Oh gods, what am I getting myself into" "You will see."  Amy frowns up at him but holds her tongue. This better not be the chillies all over again.

#The Holiday #char: ash #char: amy #place: Tortillilya #festival: the frenzy #masques #shopping #hand holding