#and for rejoicing with me in the summer heat | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sst0rmm · 1 month

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𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ in the mornings ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ft: isagi.

notes: more morning fluff to feed your soul (and the smallest bit of angst, too) ₊˚⊹⋆

warnings: slight sexual content, slight swearing too (no explicit mentions)

part/series: 1.0 2.0 3.0

wc: 2643

guys morning isagi has a chokehold on me

ok maybe all of isagi has a chokehold on me.

like you can't tell me the man is NOT a warm cuddle sleep love perfection isofjsdf

mans so genuine and sweet god im laufey lovesick

listening to rach 2 [start at 20:40, it's gorgeous] while writing makes me feel even more (yes i linked it it's amazing)

sunlight is just a daily morning occurrence when isagi yoichi's around.

"you sleep well, baby?" his arms come around the small of your back and across your body, centering you firmly on the warm, hard planes of his chest. it was a very long night, after all, you grin to yourself.

isagi smiles down at you, blue eyes bright and all. way too bright for eight in the morning. and still, you're filled with fondness, because this man, talent and cuteness personified, is yours.

you murmur up at him. "who's got you smiling like that?"

he swoops down tantalizingly close until your lips are just a hairsbreadth away from touching. you can feel a warm ghost of air flutter across your face. leaning in closer, you-

isagi pulls away with a smirk and you groan. "definitely not you," he hums and leaves the bed. sighing to yourself in half exasperation and half amusement at your boyfriend's antics, you spare a glance over at his retreating form.

"don't tell me your ears are blushing again," you call out, but he ignores you, despite the fact that the tips of his ears, are, in fact, slightly red.

cute.

and just seeing this action fills you with joy because isagi yoichi loves you, and damn everything else, because when it's just the two of you, you're light as air and rejoicing in a summer sun. the two of you, on the beach in italy, relaxing on warm, silky sand.

you're still a little sore from last night (isagi normally is a little different from isagi in bed) so you fall down into cozy, white sheets, and dream of nothing but happiness.

is this man even real

well he's in an anime so he's not but like that's not my point

where can we get these blue lock guys irl

breakfast is a... marathon.... you'll see...

a burning scent invades your senses as you walk drowsily into the kitchen. briefly, you're distracted by the pull of isagi's back muscles, and you can see the marks of where your hands were wrapped around those muscles last night.

you blush to yourself, before you hear isagi's sheepish voice. pan in one hand, apron stained with grease, and an adorably perplexed expression on his face, he looks at you more than a little embarrassedly.

"i'm telling you, i followed the recipe! i cooked the eggs just like epicurious said but-"

huffing at him in exasperation, you snatch the pan from his hands and scowl down at the offending iPad housing the recipe that caused this mini-disaster.

isagi's by your side in a flash, looking everywhere but your eyes and very much like a kicked puppy.

"you're not mad, y/n, are you?" you're not, of course, just amused and a little sorry for isagi (because this lowkey happens every other weekend), but you decide to try a little... experiment.

letting the sun warm your face gives you ammunition for what you're about to do next. you raise your eyebrows at him, give him an unimpressed stare, and sigh.

you start off a little slow. "it's fine, isagi, just-" you push him away mock-tiredly and plop yourself down on the coach.

it's around two and three quarters mississippis before he comes right by your side. blue eyes startingly clear and misty with emotion, looking at you like that's enough to make tides move, end the world, and stop your heart.

like you're the one glimmering light in a world of darkness. like you're the only thing that matters.

that look sends a pleasant burst of heat through your veins, and you almost want to give up the ruse. not yet, you chide yourself. just a little bit longer.

his voice's soft, low, and melting your insides. "i'm so sorry, y/n, you have to forgive me. baby- i was only trying to make breakfast for you, and it just-"

you sigh despite yourself. in spite of being one of the world's best strikers, isagi yoichi's pretty lacking on some other basic human survival skills. common sense is a little uncommon these days.

"i mean, how did you manage to burn an egg and ruin my pan? and spill milk on the floor without even cleaning it up?"

"i spilled milk-?"

you're starting to get a little frustrated, even though this all started off as a harmless act. "it's right there, dripping on the floor, isagi."

and he looks so distraught that you just want to wrap him up in your arms, mold yourself to his warm frame, hold him tight and never let him go. you know what isagi's about to do (it's what he does best, although you'll never admit it).

he goes in for a hug. a special hug, á la yoichi. it's one more comforting than warm coffee on a hot day, one more loving than words can even describe. it takes your breath away every time, even more than the gorgeous view of the city of stars mapped onto a blanket of inky, purple sky you see every month.

hikes on mount jiju are worth it.

and in that hug, isagi says all he needs to say and volumes more. a delightful rush of heat courses through your veins, magnetizing and all-consuming. like that, your lips press his like a moth to a flame, splendidly, effervescently, totally consuming you whole.

you feel all of him. toned arms clinging to you like it's the last time he'll ever hug you, lips gently coaxing yours apart with a soft sigh on your end as you melt into the utter beauty of the kiss. the way your arms slot perfectly just underneath his neck, like you were made for each other.

he presses his lips even firmer on yours, passionate and all-consuming. you think you can feel your heart melting into a little, happy puddle of warmth and everything isagi yoichi. your mind's consumed whole with the blazing inferno of heat warming your heart completely, and the sheer mindnumbingness of your boyfriend's kisses.

then, you two break apart. cheeks flushed, breathing heavy. his eyes meet yours, and you think you might cry with the pure love and passion practically shining out of them. suddenly, you feel utterly whole and human in a way.

you can even feel the press of his coc-

"do you forgive me, y/n?" isagi distracts you from your... thoughts.

"i wasn't ever mad," you smile up at him. spills of milk and broken pans are temporary, they're easily mendable. but love and emotions and memories, now that's forever.

he picks you up gently as a porcelain doll and suddenly you're on your bed, the white sheets warmed by the sun. featherlight kisses make their way down your neck, and he traces absentminded patterns on your chest with warm, gentle fingers.

indelible marks on your skin showing your love.

"may i?" he smirks, moving further south.

"i thought you'd never- ahh- ask-" you breath out a soft sigh as you feel his lips press soft kisses on the inside of your thighs.

"fuck being a gentleman," he says, and it's your last coherent thought before you really feel all of isagi. you fall underneath the spell of the sun and the sheets, completely and utterly blissful.

it's always the two of you, broken down to sand, it's the two of you. you and isagi yoichi, together.

and that's enough.

GAWDAMNN WHATTT

i did NOT think that was how it was gonna play out LMAOOO

lowkey i never have any set plans, like i just write and write and yeahhhh

that would be an amazing ending, but now i want to reverse the roles a little bit!!!

a fresh coffee spill glares at you from on your computer, a silent, undeniable sign that maybe mornings aren't the best time for working.

especially not mornings like these. (your mind heats up at thoughts of just hours before, skin on skin and lips on lips and you two just-) shaking your head to clear it, you try to focus on your work again.

you can hear isagi puttering around the house. he's a real house husband, truly, doting and all. even if the tasks he does aren't exactly the best results, they're certainly intented with the best result in mind. effort is what matters most in your eyes.

"hey, baby," he comes in with bangs tied up with a red bandana, sweat slightly beading on his brow, and looking totally and utterly adorable.

"it's giving housewife from the 80s," you tease him and he makes a mock-affronted noise.

then, he seems to change his mind. "actually, being a housewife's tough work," he nods sagely, "and i think good housewives deserve rewards, don't they?" he says this with such a straight face that you can't help but crack a smile, despite your macbook's bright screen shining up at you a reminder to get back to work.

you lean in to peck him on the cheek.

"i think a kiss should be sweeter, don't you?" he smirks,

he smirks, and leans in, but you back away. despite the warm tinge of heat you can feel emanating from his body, soft and sure and everything you want. despite that fire courses through your veins, threatening to set you and everything around you ablaze.

somehow, you manage to affect a tone sweet and soft and languid as honey. "if you kiss me, i don't think i'll be able to finish my work."

isagi lets out a soft, low laugh. "when'd you start becoming so hardworking?" he leans in closer, and closer, and like the bewitched lover you are, you're powerless to back away.

then, you feel the absence of warm heat, and only the soft scent of isagi's shampoo.

"get your work done, y/n," he whispers with a smile, and then he's gone. you're left alone with only thoughts, a half-spilled cup of coffee, and a undeniably empty word document.

time passes, yet your productivity remains frustratingly low.

11:39 A.M., your computer blinks up at you and you resist the urge to slam it shut. time's moving slow, but not sweet. slow as a snail slowly inching past your door, and your head's muddled with thoughts of precisely nothing.

you're walk down and your eyes are met with the sight of a cheerful isagi, covered in a form-fitting plaid shirt that's faded and a size too small, hair tied up in bandanas and all, talking with a delivery girl up ahead.

said girl is very clearly starstruck, and it sends a ray of sunshine through your otherwise very grey, very tired brain.

sometimes, you forget that your boyfriend's a striker celebrity. you smile fondly, going up to receive the forlorn pizza in her waiting hands, when you freeze. it's like ice freezes in your veins, slowly threatening to swallow you whole.

she's giggling at something he said, twirling her hair behind her ears, and, oh- it fills you with a hollow pit of jealousy and a frightening feeling of rage.

she's flirting with your boyfriend.

and you see her grab onto his arm- oh- it's like a bucket of cold water's dumped onto your head and now the rose-colored reality of earlier this morning is no more. you aim to walk forward, to give that girl a piece of your mind, and you notice her lean into him.

oh- and the second you don't see him back away, it's like something's stabbed your heart, piercing it into pieces and shattering it whole. suddenly, you don't have the fight, the energy. looking on helpless for a moment that feels like forever, you're oceans apart.

heart thudding fast, you feel the emotions threaten to spill over your cheeks. soft tears cascading down in a never-ending waterfall and forcing you into an melancholy abyss.

isagi looks back then, and you see a confused quirk of his lips before his eyes widen.

"thanks for the pizza," he looks down at her nametag, "val," before he runs towards you. you see her shocked, indignant face, and you can't help but feel a gleam of fury.

"get the hell away from my boyfriend," is all you say before she huffs and shuts the door and you collapse into isagi's waiting arms.

"baby, don't cry," you hear his voice crack and his hands rub soothing circles onto your back.

you scoff. "oh, please, isagi. i saw the way you two were flirting. good for you, she's a great catch-"

he cups your face in his hands so gently you can almost feel your heart begin to mend itself. it's a mindbending stare that sets all your nerves alight. long fingers wipe your tears away gently, and you can see his eyelashes and watery eyes too.

"it's not what it looks like."

you sigh, "well, what it looked like to me, was her arm was on yours and she-"

isagi looks at you firmly, eyes entrenching you in that sea of love you want to fall back into. but insecurity nips at you, pulling you back into that dark abyss.

"it's true, but-"

"and i'm just terrified, you know," you whisper so soft the silence's almost serene but not at all, "that you'll leave me-" your voice cracks, "for a better, younger, prettier-"

he presses his lips to yours. it's nothing like the kiss from earlier today, that was pure, raw passion. this one's tender, like you're falling into the arms of a waiting angel.

soft, sweet, and slow.

your arms find their comforting space around his neck, and your world's tumbling on your axis. but his lips on yours, arms a constant warmth on your skin, ground you, and center you. rebuild you, because he's there.

"listen to me, y/n," he whispers so fiercely you can feel the gravity of his emotions and everything else blocked out for a moment but the two of you.

"i will never, ever leave you. never. because there is nobody, more gorgeous, more intelligent, more caring, more kind than you."

"even a gorgeous pizza worker who should be a korean idol?"

isagi's hands come to grasp yours, lovingly, reverently. "definitely not. and you know why?"

"why?" you breathe out softly.

he looks at you with that gaze that could stop tides and set the world aflame. again, like you're the only object of his affection and his whole world's you. it's enough to make any girl cry. "because she's not my y/n. in my eyes, you're the most perfect ever. there's nobody else who's comforted me, helped me, and just loved me as much as you."

each word's punctuated by a wordless deeper meaning that you find yourself remarkably understanding. he loves you.

"i love you to the ends of the earth, y/n. till we grow old, and forevermore, i'll always be with you."

"i-" your breath shutters to a close with the soft press of his lips on yours.

isagi grins at you, smile so gleamingly wide with all the force of a thousand suns you can't look away from it's brilliance.

"i love you too," your lips curve up and are captured immediately with his. fireworks set off in your brain, glorious in their radiance and defeaning all your inside thoughts.

because you're isagi yoichi's, he's yours, and nothing will ever take him away from you. for a moment, just being together's enough.

kisses speak unspoken volumes. of memories, of desires, of pure love.

of being infinitely together, forever.

WOWOWOW i did not have any plan for it would end

isagi's really the sweetest, isn't he? that's how i imagine him, at least, soft cuddles and small smiles. he's not the loudest about his affection, but he shows it in actions that warm you to your core, fundamental things that can rent you asunder, tear your world apart, because of his love.

and when it comes to, we love poet isagi.

ignore the fact that this one's 2x longer than the first i had a lot of ideas okay

a humongous thank you to @benkeibear and @cute-sushi-roll for dividers, idk what i would do w/o u 🫶

man makes me powerless, you see his normal cute adorable side on the left, and let's just say the one on the left's when he gets really passionate, and i don't just mean on the field ;)

THANK U SM for reading, you all keep me motivated! any reqs you have for the future, don't hesitate to comment! 💖

#blue lock #bllk #isagi yoichi #isagi yoichi x y/n #bllk imagines #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x reader #blue lock fluff #i love blue lock and i love isagi yoichi

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 17 days

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Blessed Are the Forgiven

A Maskil of David.

1 Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. 2 Blessed is the man against whom the Lord counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit.

3 For when I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. 4 For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer. Selah

5 I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not cover my iniquity; I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord,” and you forgave the iniquity of my sin. Selah

6 Therefore let everyone who is godly offer prayer to you at a time when you may be found; surely in the rush of great waters, they shall not reach him. 7 You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with shouts of deliverance. Selah

8 I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you. 9 Be not like a horse or a mule, without understanding, which must be curbed with bit and bridle, or it will not stay near you.

10 Many are the sorrows of the wicked, but steadfast love surrounds the one who trusts in the Lord. 11 Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, O righteous, and shout for joy, all you upright in heart! — Psalm 32 | English Standard Version (ESV) The Holy Bible, English Standard Version. ESV® Text Edition: 2016. Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Cross References: Genesis 19:16; Genesis 24:48; Exodus 15:1; Leviticus 26:40; Judges 5:1; Ruth 1:13; Job 30:11; Psalm 7:10; Psalm 18:16; Psalm 22:1; Psalm 25:8; Psalm 31:10; Psalm 46:1; Psalm 64:10; Matthew 6:12; John 1:47; Acts 13:11; Romans 2:9; Romans 4:7-8; 2 Corinthians 5:19; James 3:3; 1 John 1:9

#sin #blessing #confession #forgiveness #penitence #Psalm 32 #Book of Psalms #Old Testament #ESV #English Standard Version Bible #Crossway Bibles #Good News Publishers

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thescarletfang · 1 year

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The Sweetest Kind of Trouble

Well, here it is! My fluffier-than-fluff Tommy Miller fic. Seriously, this is so soft, y’all. I just didn’t have the mental capacity to go dark for this one. Sometimes it be like that! I just really wanted to write a very tender Tommy Miller fic without the looming threat of the end of the world.

Word count: ~8.3k (my longest fic lol who am I what is happening)

Summary: You meet Tommy when he comes in looking for flowers for a first date. He’s trouble from the start.

Tommy Miller x f!reader, AU, no outbreak.

Warnings: Some spice at the end! I think that’s it?? Let me know if I missed anything but I mean...this is SO FLUFFY.

I hope you enjoy. I just want to give Tommy Miller all of the love he deserves!!

He came in looking for flowers.

You noticed him immediately - his tall, broad frame adorned in faded Levi’s, his gray, collared shirt open and unbuttoned with a white tank top underneath, a cowboy hat on his head and dark shades hiding his eyes. You could tell he was beautiful immediately, even with his sunglasses on. The way his black locks curled under the hat made your fingers itch, the desire to run your hands through them a little shocking since you’d only laid eyes on him thirty seconds ago. His boots were as study as his large hands that ran along the cracked, wooden gate that led into where you stood behind the register.

You liked working at Daisywood Farms, especially in the springtime. The Texas sky was usually a vibrant shade of blue, the steady buzz and hum of insects the perfect background melody. You liked the way the heat made you sweat. You were a summer baby after all, coming alive in the warmer weather, so it never bothered you none when Austin got real warm. You felt yourself bloom under the sun.

You really liked working in the marketplace at Daisywood Farms. It was open and bustling and there was everything from blackberry jam to mason jars of moonshine to apple and rhubarb pie - and flowers. So many flowers, black-and-yellow bees dancing through the outdoor marketplace, floating from daisies to sunflowers to carnations and sprigs of baby’s breath. You reveled in the different scents; rejoiced in the way your sundress moved with the humid breeze and your hair frizzed around the crown of your head.

You’d decided at thirty to go back to school and earn your master’s degree in English Literature, and working at Daisywood Farms from the springtime through autumn was a nice respite amidst your studies. You worked part-time, it paid for your apartment and books, and it allowed you to get out of your head. You found yourself content for the first time in a long time - you had a routine. You had friends - good ones, too. You had your own place, a little two bedroom with hardwood floors and natural light and a windowsill for your flowers and space for all of your books. You were - for all intents and purposes - happy.

You did not expect Tommy Miller.

After you initially noticed him, you went back to work, ringing up an older woman for an entire case of moonshine, having to bite your lip from laughing when she told you it was because her husband was getting on her last nerve. You packed away her jars and sent her on her way, and your eyes crinkled from smiling as you watched her leave.

A few minutes later, you looked up from wiping down the counter when you heard a throat clear. It was the guy with the hat and the boots and the hair and the–

“Um, miss, I don’t wanna be a bother, but I could sure use your help.”

You immediately thought that his voice didn’t have to be that deep and that raspy. Did this man walk out of one of those trashy romance novels you’d read on the beach last summer? You felt flustered as he took off his sunglasses and you were met with puppy-dog brown eyes. At the distance he stood from you now, you could see a smattering of freckles along his cheeks, and he was grinning. You’d never been smitten with a stranger this quickly before, but this man was simply beautiful. You couldn’t stop yourself from admiring him. Your eyes flickered over his face despite your best attempts to remain unafflicted.

He looked at you expectantly, and you came back to your senses. You cleared your throat. Your face was hot.

You found your voice. “What can I help you with?”

His grin was very distracting, you noted. He tapped his fingertips on the counter and you felt your lips quirking up in the corner, despite yourself. Whoever this man was, he made you want to smile, and that was alright by you.

“Got me a first date tonight,” he said. “And my niece says bums like me should bring flowers to a first date.”

You laughed, despite the twinge of disappointment at the fact that this man had a date lined up. That’s what you get for being flustered with a stranger.

“Your niece sounds very smart.”

His eyes glittered as he nodded, hanging his sunglasses on the collar of his white undershirt. He rapped his knuckles twice on the counter.

“Smartest person I know, that’s for damn sure,” he said. You nodded, pulling up the wooden barrier on the side of the cash register counter, coming out from around the corner to stand in this man’s space. You thought for a second his eyes flicked over your body, taking you in, but you were sure you’d imagined it.

“Well, we have lots of options for a first date,” you told him, the two of you walking toward the rows and rows of flowers that Daisywood Farms was known for. “What’s this girl like?”

The man chuckled lowly, reaching up and taking the cowboy hat off his head, holding it close to his chest. You tried not to stare at the disheveled curls, tried to not to marvel at how beautiful his head of hair was.

Dear god, woman. Get it together!

“I don’t really know,” the man admitted. “I asked for her number at the bar the other night and well, now here we are.”

You paused in front of a sprig of lavender and pulled it out of its place, holding it up to your nose. You breathed in deeply, the familiar scent warming you down to your toes. You looked up to find the man staring at you.

“Hmm.” Your fingers traced against the sprigs in your hand. “You honestly can’t go wrong with lavender, maybe mixed with a few wildflowers in there.”

He kept looking at you and you felt rooted to the spot. “That your favorite? Lavender?”

You nodded. “I’d say so. I like to always have some on my breakfast table. Brightens up my morning while I have my coffee and do some reading.” Am I talking too much? It felt like you were talking too much.

He watched you for a moment, not saying anything. It almost felt as if he was studying you. And then he reached over, picking up a bunch of daffodils.

“I think these’ll do.” His eyes flickered back to you. “She don’t seem like a lavender girl.”

You pursed your lips, putting back your lavender bunch, trying to decide if that stung or not. She must be really different than me.

“I don’t think you needed much of my help.” You led him away from the flowers and he put his hat back on. As you lifted the wooden barrier to situate yourself behind the register, you heard him chuckle. When you turned around to face him, hand outstretched for the daffodils, he was grinning.

“Sure I did. How else I’d know that lavender brighten up a morning while you do some reading?”

You bit your lip, trying to put a clamp on your smile but it felt a little futile. You thought maybe he picked up on it because as you rang up his total, his eyes sparkled with something like mischief.

“I’m Tommy Miller.” Your eyes shot up to meet his, momentarily pausing in punching in the price in the ancient register. You liked the way he said his full, government name to you. It made you want to laugh. He’s so damn cute.

“Are you, now?” You couldn’t help but tease him a little and he breathed out a chuckle, the sound low and rich, like a dark roast coffee. You smirked as he looked away for a minute, his smile crooked. When his eyes flicked back to you, you couldn’t help but suck in a breath.

Ugh. What is wrong with me? He’s just a guy, getting some flowers for his girl.

Maybe you were lonelier than you thought you were. Maybe it was time to take up Vanessa - your best friend - on her offer to set you up with one of her coworkers. She had mentioned a guy named Jake had thought you were cute when you’d joined them for happy hour drinks a few weeks back. You can barely remember what he looked like, but a vague picture of a dude floated in your head. You remember thinking he was nice.

“Can I ask your name?” You were brought back to the present and to the man - Tommy - in front of you. He sounded hopeful and friendly and not at all like some of the more aggressive men you’d encountered out in Texas nightlife. This Tommy Miller - he felt open. He felt safe.

Maybe you were an idiot for thinking that after a few minutes of interaction, but you prided yourself on your instincts.

Which was why you told him your name. He repeated it back to you, the grin permanent on his face. You had to look down or else you were worried you’d completely melt. You wrapped his flowers up as you told him the total. As he fished his wallet out of his back pocket, you cut a piece of twine, wrapping it around the bundle of daffodils.

You gave him the flowers as he handed you cash. He held them up to his nose, smelling for a moment, before looking at you. He was looking at you through his dark, too-long-to-be-good-for-him lashes, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You gestured with your hand toward the bouquet.“She’s gonna love them. Daffodils are a perfect first-date flower.”

“Alright then.” He nodded. “Now if this date goes badly and she hates them, I may have you to blame, yeah?”

You laughed. “Well I did suggest lavendar, so…”

Tommy stood there and you thought for a moment maybe he wanted to say something. But he didn’t and you filled the silence for him.

“Well…enjoy your date, Tommy.”

“You work here often?” The words tumbled out of his mouth quickly, as if he couldn’t contain them much longer. Your eyebrows rose almost to your hairline.

“I do. Part-time.” He looked at you and his expression was so open that you felt yourself offering more. “I’m back in school, getting my master’s degree, so I work here through autumn when I don’t have class.”

Tommy let out a low whistle, his eyes widening. He looked impressed and you tried not to preen.

“So you one a’ those smart ones?”

You titled your head at him, pursing your lips playfully. “You one a’ those dumb ones?”

Tommy’s eyes lit up and you felt little butterflies in your belly. His eyes glittered in the afternoon sun, and you felt like everyone else milling about the Daisywood marketplace faded into the background, blurred and frayed around the edges. As if there was a glow on just the two of you, the warmth radiating into your pulse, down into your very bones.

“You’re trouble,” he told you, motioning with the bouquet in your direction. You felt like you’d just won something, but you weren’t sure what it was.

“It was nice to meet you, Tommy Miller,” you told him and he grinned again, one of those wide ones that crinkled the edges of his eyes.

“You too.”

* * *

Tommy had wanted to ask for your number, but he had enough sense in his head that he realized asking a woman for her number while buying flowers for another woman was not the right move. He was an idiot about most things, but he knew that much.

But damn, you’d been a fiery thing. And as he stood in the parking lot of the restaurant, his hands in his pockets, watching his date walk back to her car, he cursed himself. Because the girl he’d taken out tonight - she’d been sweet, but clearly the sparks had peaked under the dim light of a bar and the fuel of alcohol. When she said tonight had been fun but maybe that’s where it stopped - a friendly, platonic smile on her face - he couldn’t have agreed faster. He only realized as she walked away that she’d left her flowers in the restaurant.

He kicked a rock in the parking lot, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He lit one as he walked to his truck, the nicotine immediately calming him. He exhaled through his nose as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

Tommy knew his history with women. He knew he’d never been the serious type, much more interested in hook-ups and and flirtations than actual relationships. But he’d be lying if he said that now - in the latter half of his thirties - the uncertainty felt a little tired. It’s not like he was ready to settle down, get married and pop out some kids - hell no. Sarah was enough for him and he loved being her uncle more than almost anything in the world.

Naw, he wasn’t trying to skip all the steps and get tied down right away. But…it would be kind of nice to come home to someone after a long day of working in the sun, blistered hands and aching bones. Would be nice to not have to try with anyone, to just have someone who knew him. Someone he could wrap up in his arms, that he could feel like himself with. Someone to bring over to Joel and Sarah’s for Sunday night dinner. ‘Cuz that drive home is starting to feel a little lonely. And so is my house.

He took another puff from his cigarette as he passed the local grocery store. He realized he was out of coffee and tomorrow was a big job with Joel - he knew he’d need the fuel in the morning. Pulling into the nearly-empty parking lot at this hour, Tommy flicked his cigarette out of the driver’s window as he pulled into an empty spot.

As he walked into the grocery store, he stuck his hands in his faded jean jacket and headed straight for the coffee aisle. He could feel the long day settle into his bones and he was looking forward to flopping face-first down into his bed the second he got home.

He found the dark roast he liked and snatched it from the shelf before he turned toward the end of the aisle, where he promptly found himself rooted to the spot.

Because there you were. Pretty little thing from the farm, your name floating into his brain as he looked at you for a moment as you held a basket in your arm, examining a bag of sugar. Your hair was pulled out of your face, different than how you’d worn it this afternoon, and you looked a little tired.

But still as cute as ever.

“Hey, Trouble.”

You looked up at his voice and it took a moment, but when you recognized him your face broke into the brightest smile he’d seen all day. It made his stomach swoop a little and he walked toward you, returning your grin.

“Tommy Miller.” You put the bag of sugar in your already-full basket, shifting your weight to accommodate the bulkiness. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He said your name then and you laughed. And then he stupidly asked, “What are you doin’ here?”

He felt himself flush as you got a teasing look in your eye, seemingly delighted that he would ask such an obvious question. Your eyes flicked down to your basket, then back up to his gaze.

“Why, believe it or not, I’m grocery shopping.”

He chuckled, a little embarrassed, the hand not holding his coffee coming up to rub at the back of his neck. You seemed to take pity on him because you looked up at him with a friendly wink, letting him know you were just messing with him.

Tommy nodded. “Ain’t that somethin’.”

Suddenly, your eyes went wide, as if you’d only just remembered something. “How’d your date go?!”

You seemed genuinely excited for him, like you really cared about his answer to the question.

“It was fine.” He watched as your eyebrows rose. You looked - well - if Tommy didn’t know any better, he’d say you looked a little relieved at his lackluster response but maybe that was just him being hopeful.

“Oh no.” You once again shifted the heavy basket and Tommy had an itch to reach out and take it for you. Would that be too forward? I don’t wanna come on too strong. “‘Fine’ is not how you want to describe a first date.” A pause, and then, “It was the daffodils, wasn’t it?”

Tommy barked out a laugh and you grinned playfully at him. “I think it was more to do with our personalities not bein’ compatible, but I will tell you - she left the daffodils in the restaurant.”

You clutched a dramatic hand to your heart, scrunching your eyes up in mock pain. “Noooooo!”

“It’s true. Right there on the table between our empty plates.”

You groaned, the sound turning into a laugh when your eyes landed back on his. “That’s so brutal, I’m sorry. For the record - those were really nice flowers! Her loss.”

Tommy stuck his free hand into his pocket to keep from just taking that damn heavy basket out of your arms. “They were nice flowers. As pretty and as nice as the gal who sold them to me.”

You squinted your eyes at him, pursing your lips - it looked like you were trying to hide a smile.

“You using a line on me after your failed date?” Damn, you liked calling him out, didn’t you?

“It ain’t a line!” He watched as you turned on your heel, scoffing. He thought for a moment he’d blown it, that you really did think he was a dog, but when you realized he wasn’t next to you, you looked over your shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him.

“You just gonna stand there or you gonna walk with me?”

She–oh…damn.

“Yes ma’am.” Tommy’s long legs got him to where you stood in just a few strides, and the two of you meandered down the aisle, toward the front of the store.

“I really am sorry your date didn’t go as well as you’d hoped.” He looked to his left, down at you. Your gaze was focused ahead of you, your arms gripping the basket.

Fuck it.

“Here, gimme that.” He motioned to your basket and you looked up at him, your face full of surprise.

“Oh, you don’t have to, Tommy–”

“I know that, but I want to.”

You hesitated for another moment before you let him take the basket out of your arms. He held it in his right hand, his left hand clutching his coffee. He glanced at your ingredients, noticed a few common threads. Made him think of the time he took Sarah to get things to surprise Joel on a Christmas morning a few years ago. They’d made cinnamon buns together, Sarah bossing him around while Joel slept in. That was a good day.

“You into baking?” You looked up at his question.

“It’s my best friend’s birthday next weekend. Gonna make her a cake. Icing and all.”

He let you walk in front of him as you both reached the checkout line and he resisted the urge to put his hand on your lower back. You turned to him and he held out your basket as you started to put your items onto the conveyor built.

He caught your eye as you set down a container of sprinkles. “Lucky best friend.”

The two of you didn’t talk much as you both checked out, but you did reward him with another bright smile as he effortlessly took hold of your bagged groceries, insisting he help carry them to your car.

You led him over to where you were parked and opened the passenger door for him to set your bag down. When you nudged the door closed with your hip, you turned to face him. He held his single bag of coffee in his hand, looking at you.

“Thanks for the totally unnecessary chivalry.” You played with the strap of your purse, one foot kicked behind you, resting on your car door. “I really do appreciate it, Tommy.”

“I was raised right.” Tommy didn’t want to stop talking to you, but it was getting late and he had to be up early - and he could see the tiredness in your shoulders, the way sleep was probably beckoning you too.

He rubbed the back of his neck again. If Joel had been there, he’d tease him for it, Tommy’s consistent tell that he was nervous. He’d done it since he was a little kid - before he was up to bat at a baseball game, before a doctor’s appointment, the day Joel told him he was going to be an uncle.

“It was real nice runnin’ into you, Trouble, and I’d very much like to do it again.” He heard your small intake of breath, the surprised little gasp as your eyes widened just a bit.

“You would?” There was no teasing in your question and Tommy was taken aback by the earnestness of it. Like you actually couldn’t believe he’d want to see you again, like you weren’t lovely and kind. He’d be an idiot to not at least try.

“Yes ma’am. You got a number you’d feel okay giving me?”

Your initial reaction was to smile, and he marveled at how it took up your whole face. Then a second later you sighed, biting your lip, your eyes flitting away from him and he started to feel a little nervous. Maybe he was being too forward. He’d only just met you this morning. You might have a boyfriend or a husband or a girlfriend for all he knew–

“I’ll be honest, Tommy.” You were back to playing with the strap of your purse, and Tommy clocked it as a nervous tick. “I’m not much in the habit of giving strangers - especially men - my number.”

He studied you for a moment, your hesitation. Did some idiot burn you before? Some creep abuse the privilege of having your number in his possession? He wanted to say he wouldn’t be like that, that he was different - but currently the odds were stacked against him. He’d just been at dinner with a different woman an hour ago. Maybe you thought he was a creep.

“How ‘bout this? I give you my number, so if you never wanna see me again, you don’t have to.” Your eyes lit up at his suggestion, your shoulders relaxing. “And I ain’t askin’ for anything. Just would like to talk to you some more.”

You studied him for a long beat, debating something in that pretty head of yours. “How about as friends? You’d..be okay with that?”

The Tommy Miller from a few years ago - hell, even last year - would’ve honestly deflated at that, said sure and then put you out of his mind, moving on to someone who’d likely sleep with him. He wasn’t always proud of his history with women, and while he never meant to mistreat anyone, he had certainly ghosted a girl or two. Or three or four.

But you’d been kind to him this morning and you were being kind to him now. He felt comfortable in your presence. And truthfully? He’d be lying if he said he had a lot of friends. Besides Joel and a few veteran buddies, he didn’t have time for a lot of friends. And if he was being brutally, terribly honest with himself?

Fuck, Tommy Miller was a little lonely.

Which is why he nodded, giving you a genuine grin. “Friends sounds pretty damn great to me.”

* * *

You waited two days to reach out to Tommy.

You had been a little surprised at your reaction to him asking for your number. You’d mooned over him that morning, your stomach had swooped when you’d ran into him again later that night at the grocery store, and yet when he actually asked for your number, you’d balked.

Because you’d seen it clearly then. A man as gorgeous as Tommy could not possibly be looking for something more than just physical. And certainly not with you. It just…it didn’t track, based on your history with men like him. And you didn’t think that way to talk down on yourself - in fact, you were very happy with yourself. You knew your worth, knew that you would be a good partner to whoever would want to give that a go with you.

But Tommy was absurdly handsome. Flirtatious. Easy to joke with and talk to and you saw, in that second when he’d asked for your number, exactly how this would all play out. He’d take you out, you’d get swept up in that smile, you’d find yourself in bed with him because duh, and then you’d never hear from him again.

It was a tale as old as time. It’d happened to you plenty.

And maybe that was a little unfair of you, judging him before really knowing him. Your therapist did say you had a habit of self-sabotage when it came to dating. But you couldn’t help it; you were not up to getting hurt at this point in your life. And you knew yourself: you knew if you slept with this man, you’d get attached. You just knew it, a few minutes into conversation with him.

So you’d been taken aback when he’d agreed to a friendship. You were sure he’d blow you off at your suggestion, or a least pretend to entertain it and then never hear from him again. And you certainly didn’t expect him to answer the text you sent him.

You sent a pretty standard message - telling him just who was texting him and asking how his day was going. Then you’d thrown your phone on the other end of your couch, snuggling under the throw blanket around your shoulders, trying to put Tommy out of your mind and calm your racing heart because it’s not like he was going to text back anyway.

Your phone started buzzing and you glanced over, mouth dropping open because Tommy was calling you. Your stomach immediately tied together in nerves and you leaned over, grabbing for your phone and just staring at his name as it continued to ring.

Fuck it.

“Hello?”

“Hi you.” His voice on the other end sounded deeper than in person and you snuggled further into your couch, trying not to physically squeal like you were fifteen-years-old, sneaking on the landline late at night to talk to the boy from school you had a crush on.

“Hope it’s alright m’calling you.” He sounded soft on the other end. “I’ll admit I’m not much of a texting guy.”

Your smile stretched ear-to-ear because that made perfect sense. He didn’t seem like a texting guy, and hearing his voice over the phone was better than reading a few sentences over a message.

“It’s very alright,” you replied. “I hope it’s alright I texted. I didn’t know if you were working or something–”

“Got home a little bit ago.” Talking with Tommy felt light. You immediately relaxed, imagining him on the other end, wherever he was in his home.

He cleared his throat, asked, “What you up to?” and you fell into an easy conversation. He told you about his day - he worked construction jobs with his older brother named Joel, his only sibling and the father of his niece. You could hear the affection in Tommy’s voice that the man had for his older brother, and it delighted you. He told you about a funny thing his niece - Sarah - had said that morning as Tommy had picked up his brother from his house, on the way to the job. You laughed until your cheeks hurt and realized Tommy had a gift for storytelling.

He asked you about your class that day and seemed genuinely interested in your thesis. He asked what your favorite books were, admitted he hadn’t read one in god knows how long, and asked about your family. You talked and talked and talked, and it wasn’t until you yawned that you glanced over at your end table, eyes widening when you realized it was after midnight.

You bid each other goodnight and he asked if he could call you tomorrow. You were grateful he couldn’t see your dorky, giant grin on your face when you replied yes.

That night you dreamt of black curls and freckles and a grin as warm as the Texas sun.

* * *

Within several weeks, Tommy Miller became your friend.

You talked to him on the phone whenever you could at night, when your work and research was completed or he wasn’t too passed-out exhausted from work. You even got to see his house - a modest, two-bedroom rancher, with typical Ikea furniture and Texas sports team paraphernalia. The natural light was lovely and his hardwood floors looked beautiful. When you commented on them, he had beamed - and told you that he and Joel had installed the floor themselves. You were sufficiently impressed.

It was lovely and painfully obvious a man lived there alone, especially when you realized the most expensive thing in the entire place was his grill on the back deck. You’d teased him, but the steak he’d made you on it was so good that it’d effectively shut you up.

And that was how you started to spend time with Tommy Miller. Movie nights at his house, phone calls in the evening, showing him your book collection and grabbing a late night burger after he got off a job. Vanessa even met him once, the man meeting you for a happy hour drink. She didn’t stop teasing you about him for a week after that, calling him your “non-boyfriend boyfriend” and telling you you were an idiot. You brushed her off, told her that right now, you were just friends and that was good enough.

“So let me give my coworker Jake your number,” she’d said, her eyes bright, teasing you. You’d pursed your lips, shrugging.

“Fine.” Your voice sounded unconvincing even to your own ears and Vanessa had scoffed at you. She’d shook her head, taking a sip of her wine.

“You’re unbelievable,” she’d said and you’d rolled your eyes at her.

Your newfound friendship with Tommy was nice. He was nice. You didn’t need to complicate it and get your hopes up, thinking that the man wanted more than he was giving. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d made a new friend - you’d been so settled into your life and your routine, you hadn’t had much of change in a little bit.

Tommy was something new. Something special and sweet and you didn’t really want to complicate it very much. He was probably dating anyway - it wasn’t like you knew every single thing the man did. He owed you nothing, so if he was going out with women on the days you didn’t see him, that was fine by you.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

And you were in complete and utter denial the more time you spent with him.

* * *

“What’s so funny?”

Tommy looked up from his phone to find Joel staring at him with narrowed eyes, his beer bottle paused before his lips. Sarah snorted as she took a bite of her burger, a knowing look in her eye.

Tommy set his phone down on Joel’s kitchen table, leaning back in his seat. “Huh?”

Joel took a swig of beer and looked at Tommy suspiciously. “You got the biggest dumbass grin on your face as you looked at your phone. What is it?”

Tommy tried to not give himself away and took a drink from his own beer. Because the truth was he’d been laughing at a meme you’d sent him, something stupid in response to a debate about the greatest action movie franchise. You were arguing that Aliens was better than Terminator 2, and Tommy had pointed out it was the same director, then you’d teased him for “mansplaining” and it’d gone back and forth until you’d sent some ridiculous reaction picture.

“Dad, he’s obviously texting a girl.”

Tommy flicked a homemade french fry at Sarah’s face and she batted it away, snickering.

“You mind your business,” he told his niece, trying to play it cool. But Joel - the son of a bitch - looked way too interested to let it slide.

“Who is it? Do I know her? You datin’ her or just textin’?” Joel’s rapid fire questions made Tommy roll his eyes at his big brother.

“She’s my friend, dipshit.”

Joel snorted and then it was Sarah’s turn to flick a fry, but this time she aimed it at her dad’s head. The fry hit him directly in the center of the forehead, and Tommy and Sarah burst into laughter.

“Hey!” Joel swiped his napkin over his forehead, glaring at Sarah playfully.

“Uncle Tommy can have friends that are girls.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Oh, can he now?” He leveled a look at his little brother. “You just friends with this girl?”

“Don’t be a dick.” Tommy shoved the last bit of his burger into his mouth. “And yeah, I am, and I really dig her, man. She’s cool. And smart. And funny.”

Joel grinned genuinely at his little brother and Tommy felt the tops of his ears get hot. He knew that look that Joel was giving him. He knew he sounded like a complete dork but he didn’t care. He was grateful for you. For your ridiculous memes and your conversations and for letting him into your life, even if it never got further than what it was.

Which he was absolutely fine with. Really.

Sarah’s eyes lit up. “Bring her to my soccer game on Saturday! I wanna meet her!”

“Yeah, Tommy!” Joel’s such a little shit. “Bring her, we wanna meet her.”

Tommy shook his head, looking between his older brother and his niece. They looked at him with expectant expressions, and Tommy finally relented. He knew he wouldn’t win this argument and a part of him didn’t want to. The thought of you joining them for one of Sarah’s games - the thought of introducing you to his people - made his stomach swoop in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

Tommy’s phone buzzed and your name came up with a text that said, Anyway, hope you’re having a nice night. :)

He didn’t try to hide the smile that time.

“Yeah, maybe I will bring ‘er.”

* * *

The sun beat down on the back of your neck and you were grateful for your choice to wear your hair pulled up and out of your face. The Texas almost-summer-but-still-technically-spring weather was brutal, and it was hot on the soccer field today as you sat beside Tommy and his brother, watching tweens run around and play like their life depended on it.

When Tommy had invited you to his niece’s soccer game, you had been floored. You’d heard a lot about Joel and Sarah, and you didn’t admit it to him, but you’d been wanting to meet them for awhile. Once you immediately said absolutely to attending the game, your nerves set in. Would Joel grill you about your relationship to his brother? Would he question why you weren’t dating? Would you have to deflect questions in order to stay away from the true reason why you were afraid to admit to your feelings: you didn’t want to get hurt.

But the second Tommy picked you up in his truck with a big smile on his face, the second you both walked across the parking lot and to the field, the second you met Joel Miller and his sweet, bright-eyed daughter, all of those nerves and that fear melted away. You were shocked at how right it all felt. You wished Sarah good luck before she jogged onto the field, and the smile she gave you immediately made you feel welcome.

You scrunched your nose, too-big sunglasses sliding down your face. Tommy’d given you his to wear, noticing you squinting in the harsh sun. He looked over at you now, smirking.

“Don’t you dare make fun of me,” you said to him, pushing the sunglasses up your nose. He barked out a laugh and put his hands up in mock defense.

“I ain’t sayin’ a word.”

Joel - who was sitting on the other side of Tommy - held his water bottle up to his lips. “If my little brother makes fun of you, he’s walking home.”

“I drove her here!” Tommy’s indignant pout made him sound like he was twelve. Your smile was embarrassingly big.

“Doesn’t mean she can’t drive your truck without you in it.” Joel threw you a smirk, conspiratory in nature, like the both of you were in on a joke together. It made you feel included and you were grateful for it, lodging the feeling away beneath your ribcage.

“You know, that’s a good idea, Joel.” You turned to to angle your body toward Tommy, your hands resting on the arms of the fold-out chair he’d brought for you. You reached up, lowering the sunglasses and peered at him dramatically, over the lenses. “I always wanted a truck of my own. Yours will do nicely.”

Tommy’s eyes fixed on you, his gaze warmer than the sunshine.

“I wasn’t gonna make fun’a you.” He cleared his throat, his eyes traveling over your face. His voice was low, so only you could hear. “Was just gonna say you look good in my stuff.”

Your mouth dropped open and you found no words came to you. Tommy had a self-satisfied smirk on his face, before he stood up, declaring he needed another water bottle and sauntered away toward the snack bar, a hand in his jeans pocket. The very way he carried himself told you he knew exactly how hard you heart was beating.

You were flustered, but you managed to get it together when Joel said your name. Your attention flicked over to him.

“It’s nice to finally meet the girl that’s been the reason for my brother’s good mood for the last few months.”

Your face heated and you smiled. “I don’t know about all that. Tommy’s always in a good mood.”

Joel studied you for a moment, an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Yeah, but it’s been different. He likes you. A lot.”

Your fingers played with the hem of your sundress, falling to the middle of your thigh. “Well now you’re just getting my hopes up, Joel. He likes me as good as he likes any of his friends.”

Joel deadpanned a knowing look at you and then took a breath. His eyes traveled back to the field, watching as Sarah joined her team for a time-out huddle. When he spoke, his eyes remained on the field, but you felt like his entire attention was on you.

“My brother’s spent his entire life tryin’ to prove he’s good enough. Good enough for our parents, good enough for me, good enough for the fuckin’ United States army.” Joel took a breath, and you got the sense that what he was saying to you was really important. “I would put money on the fact that he sure as hell don’t feel good enough for you.”

You swallowed, your stomach full of butterflies. “I–I don’t–”

Finally, Joel looked at you, and his gaze was as warm as Tommy’s. You could see the similarity in their faces, their brown puppy-dog eyes and their uncanny ability to make you feel like you were the only person in the entire place.

“I’m tellin’ you this because I can see how y’all are around each other and I’ve spent - what - an hour around you two?” He shook his head. “And I would fuckin’ hate for you to walk away from this because my brother is too up his own damn ass to realize he does deserve the best. And I think I’m right in assuming he makes you happy.”

You couldn’t deny it even if you wanted to. “He makes me so happy.”

Joel gave you a genuine smile. He nodded. “He’s the best man I know.”

Your heart beat a tender rhythm, the love radiating off of Joel. You were amazed by it, nearly consumed by it. These Miller brothers are good men. I know that. I can feel it.

Your conversation didn’t continue because Tommy was back, plopping down in his seat between you and Joel. He handed you a water.

“Figured you could use one too,” he told you. Over his shoulder, your saw Joel’s knowing look, his eyebrows raised, and you tried not to blush.

You took the water bottle from his hand, your smile stretching across your face. “Thanks, Tommy.” He grinned at you, his bronzed skin glistening in the sunshine, his freckles scattered across his nose like tiny constellations. I’m down bad for this man.

The rest of the game passed in a pleasant hour. You made easy conversation with Joel and Tommy, and when Sarah’s team brought home the victory, you were on your feet with the rest of the parents and families, cheering and yelling through cupped hands.

Joel explained it was tradition to get ice cream after the games - win or lose. Sarah - with her big, Miller eyes - told you matter-of-factly you simply had to join for this post-game tradition. You told her you’ve never turned down an opportunity for ice cream once in your life.

As you sat at an outdoor table at the ice-cream parlor, licking the strawberry cone Tommy insisted on buying for you, you realized you were happier than you ever remembered being. The sun was starting to settle low in the sky, and the soundtrack of Joel and Tommy’s laughter, of Sarah’s snarky comments - it all created a calmness in you.

I could get used to this. Tommy caught your eye, mid-conversation with Joel. He grinned at you without ever breaking conversation, a silent communication to you saying I’m glad you’re here.

You smiled down into your ice cream.

I’m glad I am too, Tommy. I’m right where I’m meant to be.

* * *

It happened on a random Tuesday in late May.

Tommy knew you’d been having a shitty day. You’d overslept for your meeting with your advisor, a citation source for your thesis hadn’t worked out, and you’d gotten a flat tire on your way home. When you had texted Tommy a picture of the flat with an angry face, he immediately asked if he needed to pick you up. You told him Triple A was on their way, then made a joke about how you’d run over the nail just a few minutes from his house. He said it was fate then, since he was planning on asking you to come over and have dinner with him.

You’d agreed to head to his house after Triple A replaced your wheel. After double checking that you were safe, off the road, and okay to wait for them, Tommy had started on dinner.

It was golden hour when you arrived to his house, bursting through his front door like a shot of espresso.

“Honey, I’m hooooooome!” You bellowed the cheesy line, throwing your bag on the couch. Tommy laughed and paused in his work - chopping a red bell pepper for the skewers he was going to toss on the grill. He looked over his shoulder at you, a giant smile on his face, and his heart thudded as it always did when you were around.

You just looked so perfect with your messy hair from a long day, your sparkling eyes, standing in his doorway, lighting up like a Texas firefly.

I want this. I want this with you. Forever.

You started to make your way into the kitchen, but your eyes flickered over to his dining table. He followed your eye-line and where it came to rest: on the vase of lavender in the center. Your eyes widened slightly as you took in the flowers. You got a soft look in your eye as you walked toward the table, and when you reached it, your fingers reached out to graze the petals.

“Lavendar?”

Tommy cleared his throat, turning around so he could lean against the counter. He took the dish towel from where it rested on his shoulder and wiped his hands. He felt nervous, suddenly. Like you’d opened up his heart, looked right in and saw it all.

“I hear they’re good for when you’re havin’ your mornin’ coffee. Brightens things up.”

You met his gaze, a smile taking over your face as you took him in. “When’d you get these?”

Tommy put the towel down on the counter, resting his hands behind him on either side, the cool surface grounding him.

“The other day.” Fuck it. “I saw them and I wanted them. They always remind me of you.”

He could hear the audible gasp you made, the sharp intake of breath. Your eyes were wet but you didn’t look sad - you looked amazed. Tommy felt himself teetering on the edge and he made a decision then. A decision that was months in the making, a decision that honestly had been in motion since the first time he’d laid eyes on you.

He pushed off the counter, standing to his full height. Because when a man bared his soul, he did it with dignity.

“I love you.” The words fell out of his mouth effortlessly, danced between the two of you. “I’m in love with you, and – and if all you want with me is friendship, I respect that but I just–I had to tell you, ‘cuz–”

“Tommy.”

“Cuz I can’t keep it in anymore–”

“Tommy.”

He stopped his rambling and he realized his chest was rising and falling faster than it was a minute ago. You were smiling at him, a tear traveling lazily down your cheek.

You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.

You took a breath, your hands skating down the front of your dress.

“I need you to come over here, put your hands on my hips, and kiss me.”

He felt a flame lick up his spine. Your stare was heavy, and the way you licked your lips made him want to groan.

And then when you suddenly got bashful, tacking on a, “If you want” — he broke.

His legs carried him over to you in a few strides. His left hand landed on your hip, his right hand went into your hair, and right before his lips met yours, he rasped, “I want.”

Tommy bent down as you lifted up and when your lips finally connected, he felt like it’d taken forever and no time at all to get here. His hand flexed against your hip and you made a little whimpering noise as you parted your lips. He didn’t waste any second - his tongue tracing your bottom lip before he licked into your mouth. Your hands made their way to his curls and you pulled, causing Tommy to moan deep in his throat.

You pulled away and he chased your lips and you were panting, gasping for air.

“I love you, Tommy Miller,” you breathed in the space between your mouths. “I love you so much.”

Tommy couldn’t stop himself from grinning - it spread wide across his face, his hand in your hair moving to cup your jaw. His thumb grazed against your cheek.

“That makes me a very lucky man,” he told you. You pressed yourself against him, your hands sliding down around his neck. You pulled him by his flannel, connecting your mouths again and if Tommy thought the first kiss with you was good, this was something else.

You kissed with your entire body. He could feel your curves against him, and his hand on your hip moved to your ass. He grabbed a handful and you moaned, spreading your pretty legs. You broke apart, both breathing hard, and Tommy looked down between you, his forehead resting against yours. He moved his knee in between your legs, pressing it against your core and you gasped.

“Oh,” you breathed, grinding against his denim-covered knee. The sounds you were making were enough to make him come, make him pant, make him beg. He’d allowed his mind to go here before, imagine what it’d be like to make you come apart with his fingers and his tongue, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to experience the real thing. It was worth the wait.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he rasped as you leaned your head back, breath coming quickly from your mouth. His lips found the pulse point at your neck and your breathless yes, like that made him strain against his jeans.

I want you I want you I want you.

He moved his hands under your ass, lifting and placing you on the edge of the table. You wasted no time wrapping your legs around his hips, drawing him even closer. He leaned his right palm flat on the table behind you, crowding you, his left hand coming up cradle your jaw. You opened your eyes and the love and tenderness in them almost made him buckle.

“I’m so glad you came in to get flowers that day,” you told him, your eyes wet again. Tommy lost his breath for a moment and then leaned down, pressing his lips against yours before pulling back.

“Does that mean you’ll be my girl?”

Your legs squeezed around him and Tommy grunted, his hands landing on your thighs, pushing your dress up around your waist.

You’re everything. How’d I fuckin’ get so lucky?

You looked up at him through your lashes, your hands coming up to hold his face in your hands.

“I already am.”

* * *

#tommy miller #tommy miller x f!reader #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #gabriel luna #tommy miller fluff

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p-perkeys · 2 months

Note

The door swung shut with a nudge from Akihiro’s heel. He dropped the grocery bags onto the counter with a sigh as he took in the intruding odour, the one thing about this island, he thought sourly, it simply wasn’t big enough if people could stroll into another’s house uninvited, though Akihiro doubted any distance would suffice when it came to Logan.

“What do you want, old man?” He didn’t bother turning to face his father, simply went about his business putting away the food and other nicknack’s he’d picked up in New York. If the old man wanted his attention he’d damn well have to go about it the right way and breaking into someone’s home was anything but right.

“To talk to ya son.”

Akihiro hated that. He hated even more that it still triggered him, his irritation only heightened at the soft tone Logan was using, the one he used for those simpering creatures Logan always had time for, time he never had for me, he thought savagely.

“How did you get in?” He asked, finally facing him.

Logan elbowed himself off the wall where he’d been looking out of the window. It was Laura’s favourite spot though she usually used a chair. “Laura let me in, said you wouldn’t be long.”

That annoyed him as well, perhaps a little irrationally but he didn’t like the idea of Logan talking to his sister when he wasn’t around, last time that happened she’s been dragged through hell and Akihiro almost lost her, again.

“Well here I am. Get on with it.” He flopped down into the armchair kicking his feet up on the table, Logan seemed to take this as an invite to get comfortable. He’d be sure to change that soon enough.

“It’s about Gabby-“

“What about her?” Akihiro sat up with a start, half rising from his chair. A slither of dread coiling itself around his heart. Logan flapped a had at him, dismissive.

“She’s fine, sit down. ‘am talkin’ about me son. Me and Gabby.”

This surprised him enough that he sat without complaint. “What?” He asked, baffled more than ever. “Since when has there been a ‘you and Gabby’, when did this start?” Akihiro could feel the heat rising in his face now that panic had subsided. Of all of them, Gabby had the least interaction with their father and Akihiro intended to keep it that way. Life was fucked up enough without him adding to it.

“That’s what ‘am here to talk about. I wanted-“

Akihiro laughed. Logan huffed in annoyance. Oh how perfect, all this time, all these years and suddenly daddykins has found a conscience. “I see where this is going-“

“If you’d let me finish-“

“You honestly think I’d let you come in here, fuck up the little bit of normalcy we’ve got because what? You’re guilt is creeping up on you, is it? Or is living with the Summers making you look bad?” He laughed again, a grin plastered on his face full of malicious humour.

For a moment Logan looked ashamed, for a moment Akihiro rejoiced in it. He’d grown in a lot of ways, thanks to Laura. He was better now, a better person, better brother maybe even a friend though he didn’t think he could be better at something he’d never even tried before but he was trying… for Laura. It was Laura who wanted him here, Laura who’s silent disapproval made him bite his tongue when he felt like giving someone hell and for Laura that he even tolerated Logan being in the same room as them but Laura wasn’t here now and she might never have been had Logan been left in charge. He hardened his heart to the piece of him that mourned what he never had, what Logan gave to everyone else but them, everyone but him. He smiled bitterly across at Logan. Bitter and broken because that’s what Logan made him and he’d have to kill Akihiro a hundred times over if he thought he was getting his claws into Gabby, sweet little thing that she was. If Akihiro fucked her up that was on him but he couldn’t live with himself if he stood by and let Logan do to her that he’d done to himself and Laura. Think of Laura. He urgent himself to play nice. Sat back, loose and relaxed in his chair. They’d only bought this one a month ago, be a shame if he let his wastrel of a father make him ruin it.

“I’m asking for a chance son, let the kid decide even. Let her tell me where to stick it if that’s what she wants.” It was a surreal feeling, having Logan look at him like that. Wounded and pleaded as if it was Akihiro’s fault he’d never put in the time or effort with his own kid. A kid Akihiro was raising with Laura, Logan’s biggest disappointments.

“Alright.” He said quietly. He felt calmer than he thought he’d be, calmer than he should be. “Alright, I’ll ask her. No, you ask her. Come back at dinner time and you ask her. Look her in the eyes and tell her what you want and if you ruin it, if you so much as turn up a minute late I’ll rip your guts out.” He didn’t give Logan a chance to reply. He strode out of the living room and down the hall to the bathroom, he shut the door with more force than necessary and turned the taps on full blast. He felt, more than heard Logan leaving. The door clicked softly behind him and when the quite settled over the house Akihiro let out the breath he’d been holding. Air rushed out of his lungs at the same volume the water was gushing from the faucet, he turned them off with a shaking hand as his senses became overwhelmed. Laura found him sat between the toilet and the sink with his head between his knees a little later. Akihiro couldn’t remember when he sat down, he didn’t hear her come in or even walking down the hall until she was crouched in front of him with a gentle hand on his knee.

“Logan.” It wasn’t a question. He huffed a self-deprecating laugh feeling embarrassed. The last time he’d found himself huddled in a corner was in his teens, when he’d been Romulus’ pet. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the cold tiled wall, breathed in four out seven. Laura patted his knee and stood up, he cracked an eye open to look at her. She was wearing his jacket and Gabby’s worn out boots, the ones with the yellow laces. He could smell her now, the sweet floral scent of soap and the crisp leather of his jacket. She jangled when she moved, she was wearing the bracelet Jubilee had bought her last Christmas. A tacky little thing with loads of mismatched charms, she said it was whimsical and he had laughed and teased her for it.

The faucet turned off with a squeak that made his teeth sting. He stepped out of the shower in a puff of steam dripping onto the rubber mat. He could hear Gabby chatting away in the kitchen more at Laura than to her, he knew Laura didn’t mind. He wrapped a towel around his waist and started to comb the wet out of his hair when the knock came. Akihiro felt his breath clog up in his throat.

The pizza was cooked by the time he’d dressed himself. Gabby was laying out plates, four he noticed instead of three. He bit his tongue. Laura was cutting up garlic bread and chatting idly with Logan. He ignored him as he stepped into the room.

“Logan’s taking me for ice cream after dinner.” Gabby chirped to him the moment her eyes found him. “Wanna come?”

He scooped the bread basket out of Laura’s hands and plopped it down in the middle of the table. He ruffled Gabby’s hair, she had a clip missing. She was smiling up at him, he felt his heart slowing to a gentle beat and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Sounds great.” He said softly smiling back.

“So you wanna come?” She seemed unsure.

“Nah… you have fun though. Spend all his money.” She laughed. She had a bark of a laugh, it always made him chuckle. How opposite she was from Laura, bold where Laura was mild and soft and quiet.

“It’s only ice cream Aki, not the Crown Jewels.”

“He couldn’t afford them even if he want to.” Akihiro said with a sly smile, he heard Laura snort.”

“Food.” She said bringing two trays of pizza all sliced into even half’s. Her bare feet padded across the floor with a gentle pit pat that he’d so grown accustomed to. Logan sat opposite him between the girls, he still hadn’t looked at him.

“What ‘bout you Laura.” Gabby said through a mouthful of food. Akihiro wrinkled his nose at her.

“What?” She said amused, eyes flickering between himself and the washing machine that was their little sister.

“Are you-“ swallow. “Are you coming?” She took another bite. Grease glistening on her lips and fingers.

“To ice cream? No. I am going to watch Fargo.” Akihiro snorted, Laura threw her crust at him.

“Ew.” He said accusingly but she only rolled her eyes. He noticed Gabby’s expression.

“Oh ok.” She’s nervous, he thought as he watched her push another piece of pepperoni to the side for Johnathon. He felt guilt tugging at his heart and by the time dinner was over and her shoes were on he’d found himself agreeing to ice cream with daddy.

They’d made him soft, he found himself thinking as they strode down the sidewalk, he was only half begrudged by it though. The air was chilly with the promise of rain but Akihiro didn’t mind, it made the stench of New York a little easier to bare. They trudged through the streets lit by buzzing lights and the glare of neon signs and headlights from cars and trucks that whizzed by, the noise was deafening. That was another inconvenience of living in paradise, coming through the gate to New York was like stumbling into another dimension when you’ve been surrounded by nothing but birds and grass for months on end. Akihiro used to thrive in the stickiest and filthiest places in New York, used to come alive at the sights and sounds of people and music yet here and now he found his teeth grinding together at the insult to his senses with all the chatting and beeping.

The ice cream shop was a back alley hovel at best. There was one angular counter filled with tubs of all kinds of flavoured ice cream, the back wall was stacked with cones of different shapes and styles and in the corner a slush puppy machine was whirling round and round, sloshing blue and red mulch through metal arms in its glass cage. A few tables and chairs were squeezed into one corner, Akihiro immediately regretted sitting down when his palm came away sticky from the menu laid flat on the table. He grimaced as he wiped his hand on his jeans.

“-And chocolate sauce with sprinkles.” Gabby was saying to the man behind the counter. “A double cone.” She added as an after thought. “And a mixed slushy please.” She danced along the counter on her tippy toes following the guy along his station. Her shoes were odd. One pink, one yellow. He noticed she had Laura’s yellow raincoat on.

“You want something son?” Logan half turned to him, an amused look on his face.

“No.” He said shortly.

“We should get Laura a Slushy.” Gabby thought out loud.

“Sure kid. You want one Akihiro?” Logan asked. And he did. He did want one but his pride stuck the words to his tongue. He felt his face get hot as Logan turned to him, fully now, that stupid look still on his face. His smile grew as he felt Akihiro’s emotions swimming around in the confined space between them.

“Red or blue?” His tone had a suspicious edge, almost like pity. It left a sour taste in Akihiro’s mouth.

“Blue.” He went outside. The bell chimed as the door closed behind him, he kept his back to the window. The air was crisp here as it was funnelled down the alley out onto the road, there was a burger bar somewhere to his left, he could smell the meat sizzling in its pan. The bell chimed again as Gabby came skipping out hands full and cold from the weight of her prize. “Don’t go too far.” He called after her as she danced her way towards the mouth of the alley. Logan handed him his drink without a word but Akihiro could feel the presence of them anyway. He marched off down the alley towards Gabby who was leaning against the wall waiting for them.

When he’s finally settled in bed, eyes closed and drifting into fitful bouts of sleep he heard his door creak open. He lay still and took in her scent. He smiled softly. She crept along the edge of the wall and climbed in on top of him from the end of the bed, up until she was resting her head on his chest.

“Thank you.” She whispered into the covers. Akihiro hummed in question. “For coming with me.” He wormed his arm out from under the quilt and stroked her hair. I’ll always be with you, he thought as her breathing shallowed. I’ll never leave you alone.

This was absolutely BEAUTIFUL!!!!!! I just love it so much!! Everything! I love the tension between him and Logan, I love the gentle relationship he has with the girls, I love them all staying together! This was so perfect in every single way!! It’s so sweet that Gabby needed him there to feel comfortable being around Logan and I think it’s even sweeter that Akihito set aside his own differences with Logan to be there for her! The details of Gabby and Laura mixing and matching clothes and shoes and Laura wearing Akihiro’s jacket was such a nice touch 🥰 and I so appreciate your acknowledgment of Logan’s lack of care when it comes to Gabby! Wonderful, wonderful work!! Absolutely perfect!

#marvel #laura kinney #wolverine #daken akihiro #fang #gabby kinney #fanfic #OBSESSED

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lethal-amigos · 1 year

Text

Summer Heat- Conversation

Story by @my-gunpowder Art by me

On this day, the sun was especially cruel, attacking people with its burning rays and burning their bodies. By lunchtime, all the villagers were hiding in their homes: eating, playing with children, doing household chores or just sleeping. Only two men were sitting on the farm and quietly discussing something. "This seed should be buried like this and to a depth of 5 centimeters" "Okay, I get it!" "It's not necessary to do this now, you can start in the evening or tomorrow" "It's okay, I can start right now" "Jose, it's dangerous to be under the sun now" "I'm not scared, I have a hat!", the guy smiled and patted the hat behind his back. Senor Velasco grinned, looking at the guy with great tenderness. He loved the hard work in this boy, he got it from his late father. When Julio invited Jose to work at their farm, he did not expect that the boy would come here so often. He and Chepe became friends again, it could not but rejoice. But the farmer was surprised by their friendship and warm relations. Two completely different people, with a different outlook on life, different interests. And, nevertheless, they are friends and constantly go somewhere together. Even too often, which is why Jose often postpones his work for later. The senor hoped that Jose would have a good influence on his son, and not submit to his devilish nature. "Yes, you and Chepe are completely different," the man laughed, looking down at the ground. "If only I had a son like you, Jose.." "Don't say that" Guzman's serious tone was too unexpected, and the farmer looked up in surprise. The guy looked at him sternly, slightly furrowing his eyebrows."Chepe is no worse than me"

"Oh, no, there's not even anything to talk about. It is impossible to compare you," the senor continued to smile. He ran his hand over the ground and buried the seed. "Chepe is a slacker, and always has been. He treats work irresponsibly, often throws it or does it crookedly. Just to get away for another walk as soon as possible"

"Again, you're wrong," Jose continued. "He's a very smart guy. Every day I learn something new from him. It's true! He helps me in many ways and knows much more about the farming than I do. And the fact that he often runs away..." Jose felt his head light up. It is not clear whether it was because he was angry at the Senor, or because the sun mercilessly beat his rays. Anyway, he decided to pull his straw hat over his head to avoid unnecessary headache problems. The guy felt like he was starting to boil. There was no toothpick in his mouth to squeeze it and calm down, so he had to distract himself in other ways. He did not want to quarrel with his friend's father, such a respected man. But he knew how senor was unjustifiably cruel to Chepe and he was hurt for him. Yes, his friend is not the kindest and nicest guy, but he has many other good traits for which Jose fell in love with him. "Yes, we are really different. He knows what he wants from life. He wants to feel all sides of it, wants to explore the world. You can't even imagine how much his soul is asking for freedom. And the fact that I work all day is just an inability to live. I'm just trying to distract myself, forget some things, that's why I'm working. It's not good or bad, it's just... different. You can't scold a person just because he wants to live differently." Digging a small hole with his finger, the guy threw a seed there and began to bury it with both hands.

"Be more lenient to Chepe. He doesn't need Senor Velasco, he needs his father." On the last sentence, the guy squeezed some earth in his fists. He felt his voice tremble and he began to lose control. He was afraid to look up and meet Julio's eyes. So he could only hope that the man understood what he was talking about. Suddenly, the guy felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You are a good friend, Jose," the senor replied. "Chepe is very lucky with you"

#lethal amigos fic #my gunpowder fic #encanto oc #lethal amigos #encanto #jose oc #chepe oc #julio oc #fanfic #fic #illustration #art #lazy draws

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 1 year

Text

Cards & Conversations (Werewolf!Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama

Pairing: Werewolf!Alfie Solomons x Shelby!Reader

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: Mild swearing, difficult father-daughter relationship, emotional abuse, melancholy thoughts, allusion to past violence and death, scars

Summary: We lose things over the years. Family members, innocence, the perfect world you held for a single summer.

Your heart.

But sometimes the gods are gracious and re-entwine your fate with the person you thought you lost forever, vanished after a heated conversation you were shut out of. Carefully shut away in a gilded cage again with only a blank page and his old typewriter for company. However, the tarot cards your brother gave you know what happened ten years ago.

They know why the King has returned to Camden.

Author’s note: This wee piece has turned out heavier in plot than I thought, enough so for me to want to work this out into a proper multi-part story in the future because there is a lot to dissect here and it feels kinda rushed. To me, that is, maybe not to you. Ah dinnae ken.

Anyways, I kept the tarot reading a bit shallow if only because I am still a beginner/someone who does it as a hobby.

TH Masterlist

Tag list: @potter-solomons @vir-tual @zablife @buttercup32sstuff @ilovemanypeople @hecatemoon87 @dreamlandcreations @elijahssuit @liliac-dreamer @alikaheroes

Support can come from the most unexpected corner, yet exceed your expectations in tenderness.

A condolence card.

Flowers for your mother’s grave.

An arm around your shoulders throughout the funeral.

A hand to hold yours while navigating the chaotic and dangerous streets of London when finally having a chance to escape the mansion on the hill.

Fingers to keep yours, comically small compared to his, warm outside.

In bookshops, only let go of during a cup of coffee or tea should it have a café.

An unnaturally warm body to snuggle up to whenever you feel cold.

Shoulders to be carried on during the odd trip down to Margate.

But those holidays during which my brother, Charlie, and I were kept out of business and separated from the rest of our family came to an end. About ten years ago, a long-standing peace pact was broken.

I can still recall the argument resounding from the drawing room. It’s funny how I thought shielding my ears would not have it touch me. Naive, really, innit?

“You crossed the line, Alfie.”

“You fuckin’ what?”

“You crossed the line.”

“The line?”

“She’s my daughter!”

But that wasn’t the real issue. No, there were two actual problems.

One, I’m Thomas Shelby’s and Grace Burgess’s daughter.

Two, according to my father, despite the similarities in hair and eye colour between us, I am the living embodiment of the only woman he’s ever loved. Don’t get me wrong, Lizzie is great and we get along well. Ruby, bless her spirited little heart, is as much of a sibling to me as Charlie is.

But she isn’t Mum.

And Thomas wouldn’t let her memory be tainted by a connection to his greatest rival and ally, Alfie Solomons.

The King of Camden.

The alpha of the Camden Town Pack.

The man who stole my heart ten years ago.

That brings me to problem number three, hidden in the shadows and all too gladly forgotten.

I was sixteen. He was thirty-six.

At the time I didn’t know he had imprinted on me. Neither could I have guessed that there were such a thing as werewolves. The supernatural, in general. It was only when I started working in an odd little bakery run by an elderly woman I discovered how thin the veil between the realms are and what it means to have a certain heritage.

Aunt Polly is right.

We shake hands with devils and we walk past them.

It’s a blessing to be a witch. But also to be a woman locked in a gilded cage, albeit, paradoxically, with a chance to have a life outside the family business. To have a talent for writing and being able to make a living out of it. To have fans curious about my stories, eager to read them and rejoice whenever they see me at signings and book events.

While I’m glad for what the gods have gifted me, to be a modern filid and possess a sixth sense, I might owe them for the rest of my life.

Because only last month they gave me back my heart.

Drunk, his hair and beard out of control, an ugly deep scar over his left eye leaving it blind, and soaked by the rain, he was there.

Alfie.

On my doorstep.

“So you’re the new witch in town, eh? Set up shop in me borough. Me kingdom,” he drawled. However, the way he leant in the doorway with haunted blue eyes ruined the mock indignation at once. A careful though gentle smile spread on his lips as he took me in. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, you’re even prettier than I remember.”

He leaned in, almost toppling over with unsteady feet. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t save us.” I am still uncertain whether he was heavily sniffling or it was a sob he tried to conceal. ‘‘This godforsaken soul couldn’t save you.’’

Thomas walked in at that moment, acknowledging our surprise guest in a cool voice. “Alfie.”

The prodigal alpha of Camden clumsily righted himself, glaring at the tyrant of the Westminster townhouse. “Tommy, good to see you. ‘Ow’s business?”

“Never been better.” Thomas shifted his attention to me. “Y/N, go upstairs. Mister Solomons and I have to talk.”

“I’m not-’’ I began, looking over my shoulder.

“Go upstairs!”

“Don’t yell at her!” Alfie roared before turning to me with a softer voice. “Go upstairs, right? It’s okay. We’ll talk tomorrow… if me head can remember.”

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my breathing even. As per usual, I managed. Still, I could feel myself hanging on by a thread, ragged around my throat.

Always pushed into the corner one way or the other.

Always me.

Why does it always have to be me?

Locked away in loneliness.

Shut away in a prison more cruel than The Tower. Left to my own devices and thoughts dedicated to the shadows, the dark corners of my mind.

Upstairs, Charlie walked out of his room, pale and concern etched on his face. He’s only too aware of how Thomas regards me and to this day makes sure I get treated as fairly as possible. “What’s happening? Why was he yelling at you?”

“The King has returned,” I mumbled, quickly brushing past him since I my pride refused me to let him see the tears brimming on my lashes. Footsteps as loud as a ghost’s, I slipped into my room and closed the door as softly as I could behind me.

The war inside was no one’s business, only for me to fight.

Another night of spilling the blood of its casualties on the page, somewhere between the lines a remembrance for the girl who hoped to rise like a phoenix. Another silent funeral for my soul.

An author is, essentially, all the characters she has created and is yet to create. My stories are told by people that carry little bits of myself, carefully concealed behind a fictional mask. But that’s what gets us through the day, innit, the stories we tell ourselves.

I was already broken up into so many fragments that night that I don’t even know who it is staring back at me in the mirror. Who is the woman people cheer for at signings in bookshops? Who is the lonely girl wandering in every Waterstones in Birmingham and London, a family member always nearby? Who was the young heart that was shredded to pieces and only recently glued together by rum rather than whiskey?

It’s a question I ask myself again now, looking down with a wistful smile.

A blank page. Empty. Adjustable. Without personality. Whatever you want it to be and can give life to from your inner world.

Outside, the sound of shuffling feet goes accompanied by groaning, curses, low grumbles, and the creaking of wood. Somewhere in the distance a fight breaks out between two men, their voices too dim to make out the topic nor arguments of their heated debate.

Although it isn’t my writing room with a desk by the window, this London hideout has become my personal bubble too. Alfie offered me to use his office whenever I want to, regardless of him being at work or not. Nonetheless, as during those holidays in Margate, he still prefers me to work on my books in his company on his rare day off. After all, despite the fact I’m, in his words, “off the fucking menu”, he trusts no one in his pack to not try their luck with me.

What a story that would be. A werewolf lower in rank trying to shack a Shelby witch, breaking the alpha’s rule. The alpha would go ballistic and a fight would break out.

Blood would flow.

The end is someone's death.

Fortunately, the rozzers in this part of town are in Alfie’s pocket because I don’t know how I’d save him from a charge for murder without my family’s help. Even then it’s highly unlikely he’d get away with it since no one wants him to live as desperately as I do.

“That ain’t writin’.” Alfie steps into the office, closing the door behind him. It falls into the lock with a soft click.

“No, indeed it isn’t.” I thumb the deck of cards in my hands. “Dad goes ballistic every time he catches me. If I don’t remind him of Mum, it’s this. Charlie’s different, though. He gave me these for my birthday and covers me as much as he can. He knows they’re important to me.”

“Funny, Tom going fucking angry at gyppo stuff.” He scoffs, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “His anger is un-fucking-justified. Yes, you look like your mum, but that ain’t your fault. Besides, you’re… never mind. You don’t need to hear that.”

Maybe not right now, but still… one day I want you to say it again.

If only to hear I’m a beautiful person to someone.

To him.

I cock an eyebrow and scrunch my nose. For both our sakes, I ignore the unfinished remark. “Westminster changed him. We’re no longer gipsies. Looks like we’re fucking above that.”

“Not you, though,” Alfie says, a silent hint for me to continue in his soft-spoken voice.

I sigh. “Not me. I’d rather be a witch and honour my roots than become a toff settled in a mansion.”

“Got the itch to travel, eh?”

“Always. I remember what you promised me.” Throat constricted with solemn nostalgia, I swallow and fail to muster even a sliver of a smile. “But then again, I was just a girl back then. Stupid I believed you.”

Alfie opens and closes his mouth, but settles for a groan. He leans in and places a big warm palm over my fumbling fingers. A crown to protect the queen’s hand. “The road is open. I couldn’t take you then, right, I’m very well aware of that, but we can still go.”

“Despite who I am?”

“You’re not a fucking Shelby. Freedom is a ‘uman right, but not every ‘uman gets to enjoy it. I wanna open the cage, see where the little bird goes.”

And will the wolf follow? Or will he get someone else to free him from the Tower?

I bite my lip, gaze averted to our hands.

Alfie clears his throat and leans back. The rings on his fingers shimmer in the artificial light when he lets his entwined fingers rest on his stomach. “Self-taught?”

“Polly taught me. Well, the basics. I developed my skills further myself.” I tilt my head, our eyes locked while an idea pops into my head. “I’m no expert, but… can I do a reading on you?”

He silently gestures at his desk, giving permission.

“I’ll do a simple spread. Three cards. Past. Present. Future.”

Hopefully, the cards will reveal what you and Thomas swept under the carpet.

I shuffle the deck, focusing on the question of what happened a decade ago. If there’s anything I want and need to know about the pack leader’s history, it’s this small piece we have in common.

The crossroads between our stories.

I draw the first card, presenting the past.

Ten of Swords.

The second card, the present.

Six of Cups.

The third and final card, the future.

The Chariot.

My stomach drops at the sight of the wolf pierced by swords. “Something failed, a defeat that led to some sort of collapse. But it wasn’t a part of your business that failed, was it?”

I furrow my brow, pondering what could have happened. However, not a second has passed before I flinch and a vision flashes behind my eyes.

Growling. Blood. Organs. Alfie clenching his fists and holding his head while his skin ripples. Empty and broken bottles of rum. The nauseating noise of bones cracking resonates in my ears while skin replaces fur and vice versa in quick succession.

“It was a collapse of self. You took to the bottle, more and more, to drawn out the feeling of having failed. Changed more often until…” my breath hitches and I snap my head up to meet his gaze, still panting lightly. His expression is stoic, his sentiments concealed. “You went feral.”

So that’s why Camden was quiet, but Ollie was always tense. Poor sod, being left in command without warning.

I compose myself as best as possible and continue. “The present, Six of Cups. This world is still strange to you, but slowly you’re getting familiar with it again. How… how much do you remember?”

“Only you. Me fuckin’ noggin’ is a mess, one black hole.’’ Tenderness illuminates his eyes, warming the blue sea and icy lake in them. ‘‘But I, I swear, right, I’ve never forgotten you. You were there, even in the midst of the worst frenzy.”

I shake my head, desperate to stop him before we go down a familiar road. Before I start hoping for an ideal. “Don’t tell me you came back because of me.”

“You, yeah, you told me you wondered whether or not I’d come back. So,’’ he spreads his hands for a moment and then puts them down again, ‘‘ere I am.”

I mean, you’re not wrong. I did say that, but that was last month.

When I slipped out of my room just to get a glimpse of him before going to bed, feeling like a little kid again, rebellious enough to defy the rules. I ended up sitting at his bed for longer than I intended. To be honest, I had to kick myself out of the guestroom lest I ended up sleeping next to him, which would have worsened the already precarious situation with Thomas.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Drunk, yes. But not asleep. I forced myself to stay awake, to enjoy every second of your company.” He bites his lip, failing to sound any less direct. “Not a moment went by I didn’t want to go ‘ome. But I ‘ad no one to guide me there.”

“Your guide didn’t know where to look. Lost herself in a terrible dark forest,” I murmur. “Must be strange, though, being back after so many years. Camden has changed.”

“It ‘as, but I still remember the way around me kingdom. Seems even the new faces know who sits on the throne.” He looks down at his hands and rest of his body. “Odd, innit, clothes and what we use them for? Feels unnatural, not like what Yahweh had planned for us to be wearin’ when ‘e made us. Didn’t want to give you a fright, though. Lots of new scars that ‘aven’t ‘ealed yet or barely. Yeah… would only stress you out. I do apologise for me manners, though, the way I ate that sandwich. One eats differently... out there. Besides, being blind on one side ‘as its complications.”

“You were a messy eater even before you left.” I can’t suppress a smile at a particular memory. “I always had to help you wipe crumbs from your beard whenever we went out to lunch. D’you remember that?”

“Can’t say it sounds strange to me ears.” His brow furrows and he flinches, fingertips pressed to his temple. Between shallow breaths sounds a note of delighted relief. “I think such a memory just returned.”

“You’ll get there.”

It’s better to remember something rather than nothing at all.

“Doc told me the best way to sort out the fuckin’ mess up there is to visit the places I’ve been. Said it could form a trigger.”

I shift in my seat. Regardless of being an adult, Thomas still likes to keep a close eye on me. And if it isn’t him, he’ll send another watchdog. Knowing him, it’s highly likely he’ll send for Michael, who has pretty much figured me out over the years. That’s what you get when you spend too many Christmases at Polly’s. “I’ll have to find a way out of the cage to meet you.”

“I 'ave a key.”

“You do?”

Ignoring my question, Alfie nods at the three cards on the desk. “Last card. What does it mean?”

Blinking in surprise at the swift change in topic, I clear my throat and return my focus to the reading. “The Chariot. You’ll gain discipline and self control. You found a way to quell the rage inside or, rather, subdue the Wolf.”

“Guess the Brazilian Jiu Jitsu is paying off,” he chuckles.

“I thought you did boxing?”

“I did that before, you know, the whole leaving and feral thin’. Currently doin’ that.”

“It sounds less violent.”

“It is.”

“No cage fights?”

He shakes his head, a few strands of grey highlighted by the light. “No, love, no more cage fights. I can’t right remember, but I stopped participatin’ in those a long time ago. ‘Ell, I don’t even know anymore what they were like.”

“You were fearsome,” I say, hoping to spark a sliver of a memory which won’t contain the events that ended with fatal accidents. “Nothing could stop you in the ring.”

“What calmed me down?”

“A bath and a cup of tea.”

“Right after the fight, I mean.”

“They’d sent for me lest…”

“Lest what?” I avoid his gaze, which is clearly not appreciated. “Lest what, love?” he repeats, tone harsher and sharper.

I press my lips together, breathing in deeply. “Lest the wolf took completely over. The day it happened for the, fuck, I don’t even know how many times it had been. Four? Five? It might have been ten when I finally got through to you. And on that night, I made you promise to stop fighting.”

“Did I? Stop fightin’, I mean?”

I glance around the room, lost for how to answer. “I don’t know. You were proud of being a wolf, hell, the fucking alpha of Camden Town. It was the one thing you didn’t want to give up. Fighting was in your nature and I fear that it’s a part you wouldn’t give up. Not even for me.”

“I ‘ave now, yeah, I ‘ave now. No more fightin’, Y/N. I swear so on everything between this world and the next, every bloody grave I can think of.”

“Perhaps that abstinence from violence is where your success lies.”

Maybe temperance forms the key to self-control when it comes to us. Maybe we were poison to each other before, but what if we keep an eye on the dosage?

What if we can find our way back?

The door opens. Ollie remains in the doorway, expression pale. “Boss, Randy and Pete are nigh on having a shiv dance.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Alfie grumbles as he rises to his feet. “I’ll be there in a minute. Go on, off you fuck.”

“Yes, boss.” The second-in-command curtly nods at me, smiling politely. “Y/N, sorry for the intrusion.”

“It’s alright, Ollie. Thank you.”

“‘Ow about you stay ‘ere, hm?” Alfie proposes after his subordinate has closed the door.

“How’d you mean? I don’t want to inconvenience-’’

“You’re not. And I don’t mean ‘ere as in this shithole of a basement with all these numpties. What I mean, right, is ‘ow about you stay ‘ere, at my side? Plus, I’ll be ‘onest, and you know I only am with you, it’s part of me plan to prove you’re not nor ‘ave ever been a Shelby.”

“Enlighten me,” I say to humour him yet harbouring no expectations for this to be anything more than a joke. ‘‘Tell me about this big plan of yours.’’

“A change of name.” Lost in thought, he strokes his beard. “Yeah… that oughta do it. Y/N Solomons has a nice ring to it, don’t it?”

Jaw clenched, I put the cards down to cross my arms. “Alfie, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not being funny, Mrs Solomons. C’mon, stand up.” He walks around the desk and pulls me to my feet, his calloused palms warm against my skin. A strong whiff of oud wood and vanilla hits my nose when he leans in to rest his forehead against mine. “This old selfish chap means it. Marry me, eh?”

I run my fingers through his bushy whiskers, an old habit I can’t seem to quit. Sooner or later, this will turn out to be him pulling my leg. The words leaving my mouth are sceptic too, slow and hesitant as they roll off my tongue. “Are you mental?”

“Perhaps, but I want to set you free. Show Tom he has a wonderful woman of a daughter who deserves the world, right, a world I want to try and give ‘er.” He removes one of his rings and the silver chain around his neck, making a necklace out of the pieces of jewellery. Then he reaches back to put it on me. The silver is lukewarm against my chest, having retained some of his natural heat. “I don’t need an answer right now. You don’t even need to love me in return. I simply wish to keep you safe, that which I couldn’t do the first time. But this time, yeah, this time I will. Swear so on every holy book in this whole damned world. ‘Sides, I had to pop the question at least once while I’m still ‘ere. While I still remember.”

My breath tapers, the butterflies violently trying to break out yet all congesting in my throat. Stuck in a net of fear. “I want to find our way back, I do. But marriage seems too big of a step to take.”

“You know me better than anyone else, love. Take your time to think about it, eh.’’ He lovingly strokes my cheek, softly purring. ‘‘I’ll wait. ‘Owever, if you reject my offer, at least use the name to be free. I’ll find you a place to stay either ‘ere in Camden or in Margate. A nice big apartment or an entire ‘ouse, whatever you fancy. Wherever you fancy, actually. So if you wanna go to, let’s say, France and mingle with fuckin’ baguettes, I’ll make it ‘appen.”

“Alfie…”

Before I can begin to protest, he shushes me by pressing his lips on mine. They’re still as soft and plush as I remember, tender yet full of restrained passion. Needing more of this, us, but sharing the hesitancy of chasing the ideal world we lived in for a single summer.

After a moment he breaks away and kisses the tip of my nose. “I need to get back to work. Make sure these floors stay clean and those runts get a reminder of the bloody rules. Stay for as long as you like.”

I watch him leave the office, grown a little colder.

And aside from the dim shouting, growls, and Alfie putting the other wolves in place, there’s nothing.

Nothing except a racing, conflicted heart and an all too familiar companion.

Silence.

#Peaky Blinders #Peaky Blinders Imagine #Alfie Solomons #Alfie Solomons imagine #Alfie Solomons x reader #Tom Hardy

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helloescapist · 7 months

Text

Senpai's Smile | Nejire Hado

Word Count: 1106

Setting: Nejire Hado x gn!reader

Content Warnings: SFW, fluff, autumn prompt, oneshot

Summary: classroom cleanup assignment has been moved outside due to the recent antics of the first years, offering you the rare opportunity to soak in the scenery.

[art work i not mine, full credit goes to the artist!]

Vivid vermilions caught your eyes, danced amongst the barren branches. Their delicate rattle shaking twigs, drifted amongst the delicate chill of the breeze that guided its path. The still brown bark shifted from summer, greeting the winter months to come. The leaves swayed beneath its influence; trembled in a dance with no song. Playful and rejoicing its reunion with the leaves that littered the gardens of U.A. Academy grounds.

The press of your lips that formed a smile, light as the air that mingled with the leaves, beckoned the play of their rustle. Allowed them to dance amongst its breath of life if only to enjoy its descent. Eyes of wander, snug against the scarf that nuzzled into your neck, met your school uniform beneath it, only faintly aware of the small chill that formed at the red of your nose. Far too enthralled to be spirited away by the tango of autumn leaves to notice how the cold had met the tips of your fingers, nor the rake that you clutched beneath the callous of your fingers.

The usual classroom cleanup had lent itself to repairing the gardens alongside the usual tasks such as cleaning up chalkboards, sweeping floors, and recycling trash. A recent spat between class, 1B’s Monoma Neito, and that of class 1A’s Bakugo Katsuki. The inner class turmoil had dragged from a class set match, one that had been outlined, and purposeful to increase the student’s combat skills, had concluded its lesson erupted from the wall of the building, plummeting two stories down into the garden. Robbing the remainder of the trees from their foliage, scattering rubble amongst the blades of grass, and withering the delicate autumn blooms that had fought back the chill. Absolutely no match to the explosive emitter, tarnished survival chances, and left the state of the otherwise beautiful retreat in ruins. Resulting in all classes to assist in the cleaning up, Principal Nezu having expressed it as an opportunity for classes to familiarize themselves with one another—sugar coated persuasion, but you had seized the opportunity to escape the mundaneness of the usual classroom tasks. you hated dusting the erasers.

Giggles that drifted amongst the breeze as harmonious and playful as the leaves. Delicate as a songbird, and warm as the sun that fought back winter’s chill. Periwinkle blue hair, curled to captivate her cheeks. Holding them dear only possible to you in daydreams. Long strands of hair that twirled in her motions, spun on her ankle with her own rake in the air. Oblivious to the way her skirt lingered in the air, far too immersed in enjoying the day. Perky despite the chores, and exuberant amongst the foliage. Her eyes mirrored of the sky, and the warmth of the day as beautiful as pools of apatite crystals. Luminescent in the light of day, the heat of her smile as her doll like eyelashes fluttered to meet your peeking. The linger of her gaze, forget-me-note blue eyes that held your heart and elicited an electric current that traveled from your chest to the heat of your cheeks. The blush that threatened to spread across your cheeks, traveled beneath the collar of your uniform. Horrified to be caught peeking at the senpai. once again. Allowed the panic to travel down your spine, jerking your chin from the cross-fires of her head tilt. Forcing your eyes to focus to the leaves that skittered across the ground, frantically scratching your rake against the fresh earth. Praying not to draw any more attention to yourself than your peeking had inspired.

“[FN!]” Her voice light and bouncy as her quirk allowed your body to take flight. Impish as a fairy in the sky, beautiful. To hear your name pass through her glossed lips. Chastised yourself for allowing something so simple to give your heart wings, and even more the way your shoulders jumped at her call. Y-You had nothing to be ashamed of! I-It wasn’t as if you had done s-something improper! You had just been looking that way when her skirt--- ah god above. You could feel the shudder of the blush reach your ears as you shyly peeked over your shoulder. You were not in the habit of spying; you just couldn’t help the way your attention tended to gravitate to the upperclassman.

Not that refuting any claims would save you from what was to happen next. The speed of her step faster than your own reflexes. The press of her chest against your own, the surprise of her close proximity having spread your arms. Disarmed you from your gardening tool, horrified at the undignified squeal that escaped from your lips as her weight bore down on your own. The slip of your feet beneath you, tumbled into the leaves. Hado-senpais’ form squished against you as her cheek met your own. The jostle of her giggles warm and inviting to your ears, the red of your cheeks pungently aware of the way she held her body to your own. A vision of a pixie lost in the autumn scenery, the odd leaves that stuck from her hair in variety of places. Her long strands rolled over her shoulder, tickled your nose as you laid beneath her. Shy eyes that traced the rounds of her cheeks, etched the flicker of her long eyelashes squeezed tight in her laughter. Joy that warmed your bones, heated your body thoroughly and shamed the tuck of your collar. Only stilled by the shuffle of the older girl as she flopped to her bottom, giggling at the crunch of leaves beneath her weight. Fistfuls of scavenged leaves caught between her nails as she tossed them your way. Her joy contagious, pulled you forward, and captivated your heart. Your thoughts focused on only one thing as you pressed your hands to one another, scooping up leaves with the bend of your back, and catching them through the air. Scattering your efforts amongst the breeze, disbursed by her joy.

To see senpai’s smile.

#nejire hado x reader #nejire x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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luvreyn · 2 years

Text

SELFISH

Pairing: God! Gojo x Reader

Satoru always does as he pleases.

Like his father, who took his mother against her wishes.

Like his mother, who abandoned him after giving birth.

In the end, there’s no man, no hero, no God who could go against him in strength, influence, and looks.

He takes after his father in that regard. After all, his father is the God of Gods, and his mother is the fairest of them all. He was born and raised by their selfishness.

He watches in boredom at the group of mortals who gather in front of the temple they made for his Father, pleading mercy for the drought season.

It does not please him to heed their wishes.

II.

Maybe it is because he has lived for a very long time, but he finds that he is bored. He has achieved feats that mortals and immortals alike can only dream of achieving. In his boredom, he has granted wishes and mercy to mortals.

In his boredom, he joins a cult of worshippers to pass the time.

If gods could die, he’d be dead by the way mortals bore him with their endless worship and sacrifices. He watches as another festival is made in honor of the Gods.

Oh, the mortals. They are destined to look for their other half for the rest of their miserable lives. It’s a punishment the Gods decided when their ancestors sought to destroy Olympus.

He stood when he heard howling and laughter on the night of a full moon. He sees a woman clothed in white beside the Chief. The cult leader wraps a rope around her wrist and secures both her arms on the pole and lashes.

The crowd rejoiced.

"Oh, you are awake." one of the elders said. "It’s your first time witnessing this, am I right?"

"Who is she?" He has never seen you before.

"She is a woman born of the Gods' mercy." they whisper. "The Chief hides her to keep her pure."

"He only lets her out once a month when she’s in heat." they added.

A man lashes at your back, and he watches as they collect it and put it in the golden cup. He sees that very cup being offered at the temple.

He watches as, one by one, the crowd takes turns lashing you. You sang praises to the Gods' mercy and generosity all the while.

When it's his turn to lash you, he finds it incredibly hard to hurt you. Maybe it was because he had been with mortals for far too long... or maybe it was because of the way your eyes shone in the moonlight.

He snaps his finger and he watches as the cult leader dismisses the crowd and lets you free from the ropes.

III

"You are new...?" You look haggard as you continue to write on the dirt.

He nods, watching. He sees the red string on your wrist.

"How long have you been here?" You raised your head, and little by little, you made your way to the gate of the cage where he was tasked with putting your food.

"A month."

"Oh, you were the beauti—the new one last night?"

"I am. You remember me?"

You munch on the bread, mumbling. "It was because you were the only one who did not harshly lash me."

He knows he did not lash you, but he planted that memory on everyone's head.

"I see." He edges the canteen closer to you. "How long have you been here?"

"19 summers."

"And how old are you?"

"Nineteen."

Oh.

He sees the 19 years' worth of wounds and scars on your arms, wrists, and legs.

He did not say anything, and he was blown away when you smiled at him after finishing your meal.

"I like you. You don't bleed me while I'm eating."

You have a beautiful smile.

IV.

From then on, he delivers your food and keeps you company. For some reason, he does not feel bored.

You tell him of the gods and how merciful they are. You tell him of the Chief, who has shown you nothing but kindness, even when he whips you. You tell him of your mother, who left you, and how you wish she'd be the one to teach you how to write and read.

You tell him about the Gods' selflessness, and he tells you how wrong you are.

If the gods are selfish, why do they give us the gift of life?

That is exactly why they are selfish. They let you live in misery for the rest of your lives, but he chose not to respond, instead telling you about his false life.

"My name is Satoru." he tells you one night when you ask him. You repeated his name, and he felt an odd sensation.

"Satoru, Satoru..." you say as you write on the dirt. He thinks you're writing his name. "You have a beautiful name, Satoru."

You keep on saying his name, but you do not say yours. "What is your name?"

"Name?" You stop writing on the dirt. "I don't know."

"You mean you forgot?"

"No," you said, shaking your head. "I do not know, no one ever named me."

Ahh. Why is he surprised? He never hears your name from their lips. Not even from the leader.

His father told him that naming someone is sacred. It is an honor, a responsibility, a promise. Hence why his mother never named him.

Hence, why he never bothered to name someone before. He has no need for trivial attachments and he does not care for honor and promises.

But...

"I do not have a name. Does everybody have one?"

".... should I give you a name?"

Your answering smile sealed his fate.

His father summoned him on the night of a full moon, of all nights, much to his anger. His father is quick to note his foul mood.

"What are you doing with the mortals?" His father asked, even though he's sure he knows.

"Passing time."

"With a mortal woman?"

He tenses, answering through gritted teeth. "With a cult of worshippers."

His father laughs. "Do not lie to me, boy."

He wisely did not answer.

"Just see to it that you do not bring any shame to me."

"I do not need to. You are plenty shameful yourself, Father."

When he arrives at the village, all his senses register is the smell of blood.

He was too late.

VI.

His eyes survey your bleeding form, the smile on his face tense and angry. "Why do they lash you?"

You blink, confused, as if you never thought of why your people bleed you. You drew something on the sand, thinking. They claimed that the Gods had shown me mercy by allowing me to survive after my mother had thrown me into the sea as a newborn. Hence, they bled me to seek the Gods' mercy again."

How pathetic. The gods must have shown you mercy on a whim. The cult leader knows that, if he is truly a follower of God,

He does not say anything. If the gods cared, you would not be bleeding after the first lashing. He does not say that the gods do not care about your faith, your blood, your life.

Because he is a God.

Instead, he watches as you fall asleep abruptly. He heals your wounds and scars, his eyes darkening when he sees the red string on your wrist.

Tomorrow, you would see flood ravishing your village.

Tomorrow, your blood will be paid tenfold with their blood and lives.

Tonight, he stays with you.

VII.

He approaches the smiling man. The Fates told him that in the near future, this man would be the one to find you after narrowly escaping death from the cult. The cult is gone now, by his own hands no less, but one can never be careful when faced with the destiny the Fates foresee.

"Hello." in his silk voice. The man faced him, the red string on his wrist visible to him. Satoru wants to cut the string right then and there, but what he needs is patience. "Are you the chief’s son?"

"Yes, what can I do for you?" The man replies, his tone pleasant and carefree. You would have loved this man, as it is your destiny, but the Fates are wrong in that regard.

This man is not your destiny, Satoru is.

"Will you help me?"

He looks at your sleeping body, the red string on your wrist cut; your soulmate, gone and never to be seen again; your body, not a mortal but not quite an immortal yet.

You’d be wise to remember that gods are not generous and merciful; they’re selfish through and through.

You'd be wise to remember that he was born from selfishness and a God before he was what you expected him to be and wanted him to be.

Especially when you see how selfish he can be.

tagging: @ice-icebaby

#reynwrites #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #bcuz it is what it is #inspired by the idea of gojo's 'god complex'#and what if situation as a god #and his issues #and the gods are not always kind #in the middle of work again sksks #luv u forever gojo #reynwrites.jjk #gojo x reader

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ashxketchum · 11 months

Text

🍉 watermelon sugar high 🍉

AO3/FFN

Summary: Tyson thinks it's the summer heat playing tricks on him and making him see Hilary in a new light.

[banner by @/cafekitsune]

Cicadas chirped loudly, leaves rustled lazily as the clear blue sky bore down from above and the sound of summer carried itself into his home through the light breeze that blew across the courtyard. The air was hot and moist, the sunlight was almost glaring so it was no wonder that the streets outside were silent and empty, perhaps rejoicing in their own mundane way that everyone had decided to stay home on this typically hot summer afternoon. And though Tyson preferred not to go against nature, today he wasn’t so happy about letting it win.

He sat on a tatami mat facing the electric fan that was running at full speed, the cold air blasting all across his face and aggressively pushing his unkempt navy hair back. The sliding doors to the courtyard were open but Tyson had his back to it, he was worried that even getting a glimpse of the heat outside would take away the peace he felt by sitting inside and hogging the little fan. While he did not mind sitting so listlessly without a thought in his mind, what he did mind was that the option of going out was taken from him unwillingly by the hot weather. He wanted to be the one to decide whether he would spend the day lazing around or playing on the beach, but with the temperature rising to a new high and the weather lady on the news advising everyone to stay indoors, Tyson had had no choice but to grumpily spend the day at home doing nothing in particular.

The main door to the room slid open and Tyson pulled his face away from the fan for a minute as the scent of the watermelon reached him before Hilary entered the room balancing a plate with sliced watermelon in one hand and a book in the other.

“Took you long enough,” Tyson muttered as he shifted slightly so the brunette too could reap the benefits of the fan.

“Sorry,” Hilary said, smiling sheepishly. “The story reached its climax and I totally lost track of time.” She put down the plate in front of Tyson and was about to take a seat when her eyes turned towards the courtyard, “I would’ve liked to eat outside.”

“It’s too hot, Hils.”

“I know, and I’m sure I don’t have it in me to pull you away from that fan.” She laughed, meeting his eyes with a pleading look.

Tyson held her gaze for a minute before he let out a defeated sigh, moving slowly to unravel the cord of the electric fan to its full length. Hilary’s face held a triumphant smile as she picked up the plate again and carried it onto the wooden porch connecting the courtyard with the room. The house’s roof covered the porch so they wouldn't have to face the harsh sun but could still enjoy the occasional breeze passing through the trees that lined the courtyard’s boundary. Tyson tried his best to extend the fan’s reach as far as possible, positioning it so that both he and Hilary could enjoy the cool air it provided. The two settled down once again with the plate full of watermelon between them and Tyson was eager to start munching on the sweet fruit but as he reached his hand forward, his eyes unintentionally glanced at Hilary and the sight of her made his world come to a halt.

She had decided to tie up her loose hair before she dug into the watermelon, so her hands were raised high as she twisted her hair behind her head effortlessly. Since she was wearing a simple white sundress today, when her hair was lifted off her shoulders Tyson got a view of her bare neck and chest which made him forget just what he was supposed to be doing in the moment. He felt his mouth go dry as he noticed a single drop of sweat slowly rolling down from her chin across the length of her neck, his brown eyes followed its descent like a hawk zeroing in on its prey. The drop of sweat crossed her collarbone and Tyson inhaled sharply as it suddenly sped up, sliding down right in the middle of her chest until it disappeared behind the hem of her dress. Tyson licked his lips as his head leaned forward on its own, he was sure that if he just bent a little further he’d still be able to see just where that drop of sweat had vanished to-

“Tyson!”

“W-what?” He snapped his head back up as Hilary’s loud voice echoed all around the courtyard. He was a little afraid to meet her eyes but realising that to her it may have looked like he was openly gawking at her chest, Tyson managed to face forward and keep his line of vision straight.

If Hilary had noticed his little stunt, she was doing a good job of hiding how she felt about it. Though her ruby eyes shined as they reflected the sunlight, they didn’t betray her emotions as she studied his face calmly. Her hair was now all tied up into a bun with only a few shorter strands falling across her forehead and cheeks, hiding any pink tinges on her skin that may help Tyson figure out just how much of his behaviour she had witnessed. Her lips were pressed together tightly, but that wasn’t unusual as Hilary often fixed him with a look of disapproval for just about anything he did.

“Aren’t you going to eat the watermelon you begged me to prepare for you?” She asked, her voice was normal except for the usual nagging tone it took whenever she questioned him.

“O-of of course.” Tyson stuttered out a reply, which didn’t obviously make him look any less guilty. He hastily reached for a slice of the fruit and took a large bit out of it, glad to taste something juicy and sweet since the last few minutes had left him feeling very hot and dry.

Hilary nodded satisfactorily as she watched him dig in, picking up a slice for herself and biting into it carefully, the exact opposite of what he had done.

Tyson tried to focus on the fruit in his hand, he tried to avert his gaze towards the blue sky, and he tried his best to count the number of trees in his courtyard to keep himself busy. He shoved slice after slice in his mouth rapidly just to keep his eyes away from Hilary as much as possible but his head would end up turning in her direction almost mechanically. Out of the eight slices she’d cut for them, Tyson was sure that he’d wolfed down six of those at an unhealthy speed but in his mind it was a small price to pay for keeping himself from falling into a trance by just looking at Hilary.

He felt glad when the plate was cleared, it meant that they could go back inside where Hilary would sit in a corner and finish her novel while he lazed about and stared at the ceiling. There would be no chance of his mind getting distracted by how her ivory skin almost glittered under the sunlight, how the spaghetti strap of her dress often slid down her shoulder when she reached her hand forward, how when she crossed her feet sideways the hem of her dress slid up and showed him a glimpse of her bare thighs, how when a light breeze passed them by the loose strands of her hair would scatter across her face like silk threads unravelling. His hands itched with a burning sensation to reach forward and run his fingers across her neck, to loop a finger under the strap of her dress and pull it back into place, to trace his name across the soft skin of her thighs, to tuck her hair behind her ears so he could look her in the eyes and-

“Tyson, are you listening?”

“Wh-what, who, what?” Tyson squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, feeling his ears go red at how badly he’d managed to hide that he had once again lost himself in her presence.

“I asked, would you like to have some iced tea?” Hilary didn’t mind repeating her question for him, though this time she didn’t look quite as collected as she had before. Her cheeks were a light shade of red and she tried her best to not meet his eyes as she played with her loose hair.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

“Cool, I’ll go make some then.” Hilary picked up the empty plate between them and got to her feet, quickly making her way out of the room without glancing back in his direction.

Once Tyson heard her footsteps in the hallway fade away, he took a deep breath and then slapped himself hard across the face.

“Get it together, you idiot.” He muttered to himself as he covered his face with his hands and let out a muffled scream. Hilary had probably only used the iced tea as an excuse to get away from his prying eyes and he felt extremely guilty about making her feel uncomfortable in his presence.

Tyson once again slapped both of his cheeks with his hands strongly and nodded to the empty room in front of him. As soon as Hilary got back, he resolved to be on his best behaviour. He wouldn't stare at her at all, he would strictly keep his eyes fixed on the ceiling or the floor unless she talked to him. And even then, he would make sure to focus on a spot above her head and not look directly at her. It was the only way he could keep his thoughts from going haywire and even if it ended up annoying Hilary, he’d make sure to follow through his decision.

Besides, there was no way Tyson was actually smitten with his friend.

His friend who did nothing but nag him about his lazy habits and pick fights with him over the stupidest things. He’d labelled her as a nuisance from the minute he’d met her and he knew he wasn’t wrong about it. Even if sometimes she went out of her way to do things for him, like today, most of his friends had stayed home because of the heat but she’d still shown up at his door, wearing a straw hat despite of having an umbrella above her head. He’d whined about having nothing to do and she’d offered to cut up some watermelon for him, even now she was in the kitchen preparing iced tea for him despite his stupid antics.

No, no, he was just feeling confused because of the heat.

Sure she’d done some nice things for him today but this was still Hilary we’re talking about. Maybe the only reason she was being so nice was because she was secretly planning to get him to finish his summer homework later in the day or she’d made a mistake and he hadn’t yet figured it out so she was just being nice to him to soften the blow.

That’s right, that’s all there was to it.

Tyson smirked to himself, once she was back he’d make sure to be his usual self, completely aloof and unaffected by her presence. Now that he’d figured out her possible ulterior motives for being here today he wouldn't be fooled by anything.

Just then Hilary entered the room holding a tray with two tall glasses tightly in her hand. She made her way towards the porch and Tyson greeted her with a shrug and a deadpan expression. The brunette raised her eyebrows at his sudden indifference but didn’t make any comments on it which only made Tyson feel more confident about himself. He sat up straight as she reached him, if he hadn’t been so caught up in wanting to play it cool, he might’ve thought about getting up to help her by taking the tray from her hands, instead, he just stared confidently up at her.

Though, in that moment he couldn’t be sure whether what Hilary did next was intentional on her end but it did make his resolve crumble into nothing in a matter of seconds.

Before sitting, Hilary bent down to put the tray with the drinks on the floor, putting her chest directly in Tyson’s line of sight. His eyes almost bulged out as her dress dropped low and he glimpsed the lacy lining of her white bra for a second before she pulled back and sat across him with her legs folded sideways. But Tyson was still frozen in time, his mind only flashing him images of Hilary’s bra a million times.

“Don’t leave your mouth hanging open like that, Tyson. It’s very unpleasant.” Hilary smiled sweetly at him as she picked up one of the glasses and brought it to her lips, taking a slow sip of the drink without breaking eye contact with him.

Tyson quickly closed his mouth as he felt his whole face turn hot, this time unfortunately not from the weather. He couldn’t think of anything to say back to her, so he just reached for his own drink and took a few loud gulps from it. He could feel her watching him from the corner of her eye even as she picked up her book and turned its pages absentmindedly. He thought about his resolve from a few minutes ago, about how he was going to behave well in front of her, but when he noticed her lips curl upwards in a triumphant smirk, Tyson’s grip around the glass in his hand tightened and his jaw was set.

If this is how she wanted to play it, then who was he to turn down the challenge?

Tyson gulped down the remaining drink and kept the empty glass back on the tray, letting out a satisfied gasp which made Hilary focus her attention towards him.

“Thanks, Hils. That tasted really good but,” he locked eyes with her and sent her a grin before getting to his feet and stretching his arms above his head, “I still feel kinda hot.”

Hilary’s brows furrowed in confusion at his words but Tyson couldn’t keep the glee off his face as he grasped the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it above his head, pulling himself out of it in one swift movement. He threw the shirt onto the floor of the room and sat back down, leaning against the shoji door that led to the porch with his hands resting behind his head. He looked at Hilary and was satisfied to see her whole face turn bright red as her eyes took in the sight of his bare chest. She quickly lifted her book high and buried her face behind it which only made Tyson gloat harder because he could see the redness spread from her face to her neck, indicating that he’d won fair and square.

“This feels much better,” he said out loud and Hilary gave a meek nod, her face still hidden behind her book. “Maybe you should try it too.” He snickered quietly under his breath, not really intending for Hilary to hear him. Though he would welcome the opportunity to watch her strip off that dress any day, he sighed dreamily to himself as a vivid picture of her bra reappeared in his mind.

But her ears seemed to be working in top condition today because, in one sudden move, she slammed her book shut and glared at him, completely red-faced.

“You’re unbelievable, Tyson.”

Tyson opened his mouth to apologize quickly but Hilary was already on her feet, stalking out of the room. On her way out she bent down to pick up the t-shirt he had casually thrown away and if Tyson hadn’t been so distracted by the shape of her butt, he would’ve seen her throwing his shirt right at his face with all the force she could muster before she slammed the door of the room shut behind her.

He picked up the now crumpled t-shirt that had fallen into his lap and quietly put it back on. Sighing tiredly, he shook his head, Tyson knew that this time he’d crossed a line and a simple apology wasn’t going to cut it.

But even as he got to his feet and prepared to follow Hilary out, he couldn’t help but feel a little tinge of excitement in his chest. Hilary wasn’t completely innocent in all of this either, she had been teasing him too. He tried to wipe the grin off his face before he caught up to the brunette, she would be less forgiving if she saw him enjoying the whole thing instead of regretting his behaviour. He just had to play his cards right now, say all the right words and nod along to everything she said, because if he was able to win her approval, then maybe getting to see that white bra of hers in all its glory wouldn't be such a distant dream.

#beyblade #tyhil #beyblade fanficition #bakuten shoot beyblade #takao kinomiya #tyson granger #hiromi tachibana #hilary tachibana #tysonxhilary #takaoxhiromi #writealot #just filling up the tyhil tag for fun #also i loved writing this in under 2 hours like i was possessed #but tbh i'm always possessed by tyhil

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