#I wish I could explain this process without having to hope the person knows from experience or knows someone LIKE that

[katyspersonal]

dfjfsdgfds @ anon NOOOOO don't worry about this!! Trust me you are not the first person who saw my icon like Messmer until squinting at it really hard xD Let's be real, not only Drake Warrior Set does have similar aesthetic, but also before SOTE actually launched we all thought Messmer was straight up connected with Dragon Communion!!

Though to be honest, even I myself keep thinking about Messmer on reflex looking at my icon dfhfdhfd The "vibe" morphed into some strange mental image that is like a "blend" of aesthetics and vibes (and genders) of Eleonora and Messmer and I could not shake it off! It even had a strong passive effect on my self-image and perception of my gender. 🙄 And it felt extremely cathartic picturing myself as this spontaneous "character" until they detached and literally became a new OC xD (if you are prone to fiction kinning, sprout minor alters like Malenia sprouts the sisterdaughters or both you just KNOW what I am talking about lol!!)

[thefanficmonster]

Heavy Metal Lover

PART 2

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Smoking, Brief Choking, Mentioned Past Suicides (at the location they're exploring), Suggestive Content, Arguments, Swearing

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Romance, Very Slight Smut, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Sam's best friend and Kat's best friend have been tangling antlers since the moment they met. So much for the couple's hopes of setting the two up.

NOTE: Sam and Kat are still together in this fic. This detail is not meant to be disrespectful to Sam's current girlfriend in any way.

"Why do we keep trying?"

Sam's question comes out as an exasperated sigh as he slouches further into the leather couch him and Kat have settled onto. Their rooms aren't ready yet, seeing as how their flight arrived way earlier than their calculations had suggested.

The hotel lobby is busy. The noise on any other day would be too much for the two to ignore and tune out but right now it's much more alike white noise. Jet-lag has really done them in this time. They'd been running away from it for long enough - hopping from plane to plane filming Hell Week is the same every year. But alas, by the fourth location they'd always shut down as has been the case since they stepped foot out of the plane and into the Las Vegas airport.

The only reason they're staying awake is so they don't get robbed blind. Well, that and to make sure the other two people on this trip don't murder one another.

"Because I still believe there's something there."

Y/N and Colby had successfully made it through the whole boarding process and flight without a single fight. Hell, Sam can't even recall them exchanging a single word until they arrived at the hotel. Maybe that's why it took them less than thirty seconds to break out in their usual bitter back-and-forth in the middle of the lobby. The only reason voices remained leveled was because they are indeed in public and they have appearances to upkeep.

The couple managed to subdue the perpetual assholes, convincing them to 'take five' which they thankfully went to take in opposite directions - Y/N headed for the parking lot to grab something she allegedly forgot in their rental car while Colby immediately clocked the patio across the lobby and quickly disappeared out of sight.

Kat watched them both, as if on cue, pluck their packs of cigarettes from their pockets on the way out.

That's what she means when she's trying to convince Sam of that something she sees. She can't explain it without the reasoning sounding like wishful thinking but she knows there is something. Something in the explosiveness in their interactions, the 'hatred' in their glares whenever they are tangling antlers over the smallest inconvenience, the way they look at each other when the other isn't looking.

Y/N and Colby are to Kat what the paranormal is to Sam. She wants to prove it to everyone, but mostly herself. Prove she didn't spend years poking holes in their apprehension for one another and pushing them together when the holy force clearly didn't want her to.

Or maybe that's what has been driving her.

Either way, she's truly grateful Sam is going along with her antics. Whether he believes what she's preaching or sees what she's seeing is up for debate, but at he's still supportive.

He'd never tell her this, but he isn't exactly trusting of the process. He more than anyone would want to see his best friend in a happy and healthy relationship. Does he believe that him and Y/N could have that? No. Not at all. Does he have faith Kat will succeed in her endeavors? Nope. Not even a tad. Even though she's stubborn and dedicated to this cause, he's never met a person more hard-headed than his best friend. Or at least he hadn't until he met Y/N.

You know the whole 'opposites attract' notion? The reason Sam and Kat's experiment subjects won't give the results they're hoping for is because they're too alike. In sync even - as the cigarettes instance that happened less than ten minutes ago would confirm. They're on the same wavelength headed in opposite directions. They're permanently heading for a collision - a fight equal to a ticking time bomb. Sam and Kat have to put out the fire the explosion of said bomb causes but that is a small price to pay to keep the two in each other's proximity.

"I don't know, babe...." Sam's shoulders slump downward, his arm automatically wrapping around Kat when she leans into his side. Hesitant as he may be, he's willing to go along with it. How is it any different from all the times Kat agreed to visit abandoned and haunted places with him. Hell, that's why she's here. She had no problem hopping on a plane to Vegas on such short notice just because she knew how much it'd mean to him. So...what's a little matchmaking in return? "But I believe your romance instincts." Looking down at her, he can't help but smile when he sees her absolutely beaming at him.

"I will not let you down."

She may try her best, but their subjects are two particularly unruly chess pieces.

Y/N, for example, is still out in the parking lot, getting antsier by the second. Anger refuses to let her stand still. Her jaw is still set, hot blood pumping through her veins. So many words she didn't get to spit out due to the public constraint are still stuck in her throat. Colby's words are replaying in her head, their edge causing her to dig her nails into her palms.

She needs to get some air, she just doesn't know where to find it. Maybe at the top of a mountain where she could scream her lungs out in peace. That's not really an option now, though, she she just settles for walking around the hotel, giving herself a couple more minutes before she rejoins Sam and Kat inside.

Eventually, she's made her way around to the side of the hotel that spreads out as an open patio, basking in the all-too-warm sun rays of this fine September day. Last year, the high temperatures were not such a problem while putting up with the fast paced dynamic of Hell Week because they actually filmed it in late October. This year, however, they chose to get it out of the wat sooner because their schedule would be packed all October. Kat's been working on a new album, Y/N has a deal with Crypt TV to make a horror movie and Sam and Colby will be doing Sam and Colby stuff. I don't think there is any other way to sum up what those two are doing.

Not that Y/N really cares what they do. The only reason she's versed into their schedules is because she lives with them. Yes, that is correct - much to her dismay, she found herself forced to live with the guys and Kat after an unexpected and unwarranted eviction from her apartment.

She exhausted all possible options long before caving and accepting Kat's offer to move in with the three. She was welcomed into the house with three different reactions: her best friend squealing with excitement; Sam offering her a warm welcome and helping hand in moving her stuff to her room; and last, and certainly least, was Colby who gave her nothing more than a 'hello' in passing.

None of them can really recall when this endless butting of heads started or how or why. Sam and Kat would equate their attempts at getting the two to get along to pushing same charges toward one another - the harder you push, the harder they push apart.

It's truly baffling where Kat found even an ounce of romance between the two.

Y/N wipes a few droplets of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand as she climbs the few stairs to reach the bar out on the patio, hoping to gulp down a glass of water after the cigarette she tossed a few minutes ago coupled with the intense heat.

"Hello there." The bartender greets her with a smile, his gaze trailing over her with zero subtlety. "What can I get ya?"

She chooses to ignore it, "Hi. Just a glass of water, please."

The man chuckles, reaching for a tall glass "You know, it's Happy Hour somewhere."

Despite his attempts at flirting - which Y/N is aware is part of his job - she finds herself letting out a small laugh, "Yeah well, not here. And not for me." She gratefully accepts the glass of ice cold water with a nod.

Before the guy can reply, a third voice butts into the conversation, "Yeah, definitely not for her. She's a raging alcoholic."

Stunned, Y/N turns to see a pair of electric blue eyes piercing her with a blank look that contradicts his extremely fake smile he's pinned on his face out of nothing more than politeness.

For a moment, due to their glaring match, they completely forget about the man they've roped into their mess. Thankfully, he speaks up, reminding them of his presence before he could witness any potential brawl, "Oh, um, I'm sorry to hear that."

Momentarily, Y/N drops the torch, tearing her gaze from Colby to acknowledge the bartender directly, "Yeah, no big deal."

Her teeth grit together in absolute rage when she hears the asshole beside her snort something alike a laugh, "Tragic, really. Can I get a vodka cran?"

Y/N busies her hand with holding the glass so she doesn't give into the idea of punching him, "Someone clearly follows that Happy Hour rule."

"I'll have you know..." Colby turns his whole body to face her now, as if challenging her, "...it's not for me." The tilt of his head directs her gaze to an attractive brunette sitting alone at a table, scrolling through her phone.

"Lovely." She spits the word like poison on her tongue, "I'll go tell her to blink twice if she needs help."

"You need help." The lack of bite to his statement stuns her more than if he were to yell it at her. It's an effective throw-off considering she doesn't immediately jump back or smack his hand away when he reaches for the pocket of her shorts, swiping her lighter, "Mine's out of juice." He explains, sticking it in his back pocket before turning to the bartender once more, handing him a ten dollar bill, "And lemon iced tea for my friend here, she's looking a little parched."

With that and a brisk nod in Y/N's direction, Colby excuses himself from the interaction and heads back to the model of a woman who's quick to flash him a bright smile when she notices him approaching.

A sickening feeling settles in her gut. She can't believe any woman gets wound around his finger so easily. She might be biased but she just simply doesn't see it. She can't understand what gets girls within a five mile radius of him swooning.

That smile so many deem charming she finds cynical and fake. His eyes, although a pretty color, are hollow apart from the twinge of evil she sees every time they glare at her. His flirty, charismatic words could make her puke if exposed to them for an extended period of time. In short, she finds him repulsive.

Had they gotten off on a better foot maybe she would've even ended up in his bed on a few occasions by now. As they stand now, she'd rather sleep with Satan himself.

Still, she takes the iced tea, mostly out of curtesy but also because she is indeed dehydrated. She spares the table Colby has now taken a seat at a brisk glance just to find her eyes met with a pair of piercing blue ones once more.

She could strangle him, theoretically, but she won't. Not with this many witnesses around. Instead, she heads inside, looking for Sam and Kat in hopes of getting the last fifteen minutes out of her head.

* * * *

"What's up guys, it's Sam and Colby! And today we'll be investigating the Oasis Motel in Las Vegas. Known for its dark and unexplainable past and the reputation that precedes it today." Sam explains as they begin filming the intro to their video.

The group is currently standing outside the aforementioned motel. The exterior they were met with upon arrival was enough for Kat and Y/N to exchange a particular look. It's in an area off the strip, the surroundings accentuating the atmosphere and amplifying the creep factor.

"Unfortunately, we won't be able to stay at the hotel. They haven't been renting rooms for close to a decade to avoid any potential casualties. And by that I mean - suicides." Colby says, reciting the notes he both wrote and memorized on the car ride here.

"Yeah, this motel is known for two specific suicides that happened here. Specifically in room 20." Sam adds, listing the sightings that have been allegedly witnessed by staff and guests alike before the motel was shut down for business.

The place now just stands ominously as a haunted attraction of sorts. It's meant to honor the memory of the two people who took their own life there but it's clear they have purposefully added to the fear factor to attract more people like Sam and Colby.

That still doesn't take away from the fact that just looking at the building settles an uneasy feeling in Y/N's gut.

She's always been curious about the paranormal but never went out of her way to seek answers. The only reason she's been joining the gang for paranormal investigations is because Kat often begs her to. And she's always had a hard time turning down her best friend, about anything.

So, here she is, sighing as she follows Sam and Kat inside the barely lit lobby of the motel where the staff member who's gonna be giving them a tour is waiting for them.

Before she can fully cross over the doorstep, she feels a finger trail over her arm, running over the very prominent goosebumps that have appeared on her skin.

"Aww, is someone scared?" The mockery in Colby's voice drains any sort of fear or uncertainty she was feeling before.

She whirls around to face him, nostrils flaring when she sees his coy smirk, "Get your fucking hands off me before I knock you the fuck out." She snarls between clenched teeth.

His smile only widens, becoming a tad more genuine now, "That's more like it. Don't be a pussy."

She's about to retaliate with a string of insults that's make a sailor blush when Sam, thankfully, interrupts her, "Guys! Come on!"

The fucker was saved by divine intervention this once, but Sam won't always be there to shield him from Y/N's wrath - he's very aware of that. Time and time again they've screamed their lungs out at one another just to storm off to fill them with nicotine for a potential round two.

In a way, that is a love language too, right? Well, if you ask Kat, that is. Though she isn't completely wrong. The opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference. And these two are most definitely not indifferent to one another.

Speaking of Kat, she doesn't fail to sneak a peek at the hostile interaction between the two. She nudged Sam's ribs to point it out and smacked his arm when he put a stop to it. Although that was the best course of action to prevent Colby losing any teeth tonight, curtesy of Y/N's fist.

Ok, that's a bit of an exaggeration.

She may have spit a million threats his way over the many year they've known each other, but never once did she go through with them.

"Hi, guys. I'm Scott, and it's an honor to be welcoming y'all to the Oasis." The man, who they now know as Scott, introduces himself as he turns on an old tall lamp by what used to be the front desk of the motel. "I hope you're ready to capture some great footage tonight. We're giving you a time frame till 2 AM which is an exception we rarely make, but this one over here is a smooth talker." He says, smiling slyly over at Colby who was the one that placed the call to the motel before they added the place to their itenirary.

Colby, in turn, shrugs, a grin plastering itself on his face, "I mean..." He chuckles, causing Y/N to roll her eyes, "No, jokes aside, I can't thank you enough for bending the rules for us."

It baffles her how charming he can be. She can't help but wonder at times why she wasn't deemed worthy of this pleasant side of him. Not that she hasn't grown somewhat fond of their dysfunctional dynamic - not that she'd ever admit it - but she still wishes she knew.

And she hates it.

Instead of dwelling on it, she busies herself with the fear that's still lingering on the backburner. She'd much rather be scared of whatever's waiting for them in this motel than what she might find if she keeps digging in her mind.

* * * *

"What is your fucking problem?!"

The tension has been building all night, both between Y/N and Colby and from the paranormal aspect of it all.

Glares thrown in from across the room. Light, supposedly accidental touches, some even meant to startle her. Lingering behind her or always looming close to her, reminiscent of her literal shadow.

He's rarely so bold with his proximity to her. He respects her personal space and tends to keep himself at an arm's length regardless of the place they're in. But for some reason, not quite clear to him yet, he's been keeping himself close to her the whole night. Either it's from a certain need to protect her or an inherent need to annoy her into continuously acknowledging his presence, he can't tell.

But by now it's reached a boiling point.

What pushed the situation past Y/N's tolerance threshold was getting scared out of her skin by Colby who, by design of the challenge, wasn't supposed to be anywhere near her. They were less than five minutes into their solo investigations - Sam, ever the challenger, took room 20; Kat is in the restaurant, Y/N is in room 33 and Colby was supposed to take on the attic.

However, he didn't quite last long.

At the first sound of mild panic coming from room 33, which is directly underneath the attic, Colby immediately took off down the stairs, nearly taking the door off its hinges and scaring the ever-loving daylight out of Y/N.

That is what provoked this reaction from her. And now that we're up to speed...

"I thought you were in danger." He explains, quietly shutting the door behind him as he approaches the bed where she's sat.

"Jesus, Colby, you gave me a heart attack!" She groans, squeezing the bridge of her nose in frustration, suddenly antsy in her seat, "I'm not new to this shit! I've been doing this for years with you guys! I get that you may not see me but that doesn't mean I'm not there!" Her heart is still racing, her breathing shallow. Her chest is heaving despite the hand she's placed overtop it in an inefficient attempt at calming herself down.

A few steps closer on his part make her even more uneasy. She gets up to her feet to level the ground between them somewhat. There is something so vulnerable in sitting down with him standing over her. Dare I say, intimate.

"I see you." He says almost bitterly, "Oh, I fucking see you, Y/N. You're always there, always in my viewpoint. Always just a step out of arm's reach. And I hate it. Or try to. You piss me off so bad I can't even put it into words without sounding fucking insane!"

He's close, too fucking close. The chain hanging from his jeans brushes against the exposed skin of her thigh, sending chills all over her body. It makes her wish her shorts were longer. Makes her wish she could push him away, keep her guard up, keep up her mean front.

But when fingers tangle in her hair, his hand cupping the back of her head, she knows it's too late for any of that.

Their lips are barely an inch apart, the two practically sharing the same breath. Still, her pettiness dies screaming with one last whispered, "Fuck you."

With that, all barriers, both physical and metaphorical, come crashing down as their lips collide with the force of seven years worth of tension. Seven years of denial masked as aggression and annoyance. Every word spat out in anger, every glare, every passing touch, every 'flirty' moment. It's all condensed into a hostile collision of lips, biting teeth and battling tongues.

Y/N's hands intertwine at the back of his neck while his travel down to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. Their connection is airtight, the heat between their bodies increasing the need to pull back to breathe, though that's the last thing they wanna do. It's been far too long for it to end this soon.

Her legs threaten to give out. It's all too much too fast and too unbelievable. Thankfully, Colby seems to feel the same.

He softly pushes her down on the bed, smiling in the kiss at the zero complaints he receives in response.

"You're so sweet when you wanna be." He pulls back for just a second, his hand cupping her chin.

She's quick to smack it away. He expected nothing else. "Shut the fuck up."

He chuckles almost darkly as his hand now settles around her throat, "Adorable." He's aware he's pushing his luck, but then again it's always a gamble with her. This time, he might just luck out.

Their lips have no time to reconnect though, much to their dismay.

"Colby! Y/N! Where are you guys?!"

Sam's voice reaches them from the lobby downstairs, forcing them apart instantly. A deer in headlights look flashes across both their faces as they hurry to create as much distance between them as possible.

Colby swears he sees any hope he had sink right before his eyes. He watches the realization of what just happened dawn on Y/N. Now that the heat of the moment has evaporated, it becomes all too real and all too clear to her what a mistake that was.

"Guys?!" This time it's Kat's voice bouncing off the walls, coupled with the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

He's panicking, not really sure as to exactly why. Whether it's because he'll have to explain this predicament to his friends or because he can see Y/N starting to regret said predicament in real time, he's not sure. Either way, he needs to come up with something, fast. If his brain can kick back into gear after his whole world was briefly thrown off its axis.

"Go." It comes out as a whisper but it bounces around in his head like an earthquake.

"What?" His tone mimics hers, afraid that a single note higher would ruin what little tranquility they've managed to maintain while there's full-on storms raging in their minds.

Her eyes are trained on the floor, hollow with a thousand yard stare. She can't look at him, unsure as to why. She just knows she can't. "Go. Get out. This never happened." When she finally wills herself to meet his eyes she can feel the burning of tears at the back of her throat, "Forget this ever happened."

Footsteps grow closer but they still have leeway to get away with it with just a white lie.

"Go. Now!" She repeats, a bit more fervor in her words now. She gives him no room to reply as she ushers him away but he isn't capable of stringing words together right now anyway.

So, he obliges, going against all his instincts telling him the opposite. And he does so on time as well, shutting the door behind him just as a tear rolls down Y/N's cheek.

What a fucking mistake, they once again sync up, sharing the same exact thought. Though they silently agreed to forget everything that just happened, they're both well aware it won't leave their brain for the foreseeable future.

If ever.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: the hawthorne with the green eyes part 2

pairing: jameson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: a night full of fun and games with jameson hawthorne isn’t what you’d intended after going for a little midnight wander but you didn’t regret it

parts: part 1

warnings: none :)

a/n: thanks for the req 🤍🤍 hope you enjoy

tag list: @bewitchingkisses @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket

Strip bowling was exactly what the name said. A game of bowling where you remove an item of clothing if you failed to knock down any pins. It wasn’t difficult to get the hang of, it was difficult for me however to hang on to my clothes. I’d only bowled a few times in my life and on the occasions I had, I was pathetic at the game, but it was for fun then. Now it felt like it was for my dignity.

“Earrings one hundred percent count!” I exclaimed, shoeless, sockless and jumperless. I didn’t know I could be so bad at rolling a semi-weighted ball down an alley.

“No they don’t!” Jameson quipped, wagging his finger at me.

“I’m wearing earrings, like I’m wearing clothes, they count,” I replied stubbornly, unprepared to lose my top or trousers.

“No they don’t,” he shook his head sharply with a dangerous grin on his face.

“You just want me to take my top off,” I snapped, attempting to throw him off.

Colour touched his cheeks, “I want no such thing!”

“Liar,” I smiled mischievously.

“Maybe I am,” he shrugged, our roles reversing. Colour in my cheeks and a smile on his lips. My heart raced as I processed what he said. “But don’t lie,” he continued, “you’ve been trying to throw my game off the whole time so I take mine off.”

“I did no such thing!” I mirrored him, with a face of synthetic shock.

“Liar,” he smirked, his voice so dark I wanted to melt.

I laughed lightly.

“Do that again,” he murmured, gazing into my eyes.

“What?” I blurted out, confusion written all over my face.

“That thing, where you laugh and smile and your eyes light up,” he explained smoothly.

I felt a rising warmth in my face and it wasn’t a fever spiking, “why?”

“Because I like it,” he said, his voice so light, so airy there was almost no sound at all.

I took a step towards him and tilted my head up, our eyes glued together and I was unable to pull away. I could sense his hand nearing my waist and I didn’t tell him to stop. It was only then that I realised how badly I wanted this.

“Jameson I-“

“Hey guys!” Xander’s cheery voice is quick to snap me out of my lovelorn trance, “ooo it’s the new girl.”

“It is,” I coughed, wiping my hand awkwardly on my trousers as I stepped away from Jameson, “nice to see you again,”

“Are you playing strip bowling?” he continued, analysing his surroundings, before turning to Jameson with a rueful expression on his face, “without me? Again! Why am I even here anymore?”

“Sorry Xander,” he shrugged, composed as of two moments before nothing had happened at all between us, “I’ll catch you next time.”

“That’s what you said last time and now look,” he protested, “I mean would it kill you to ask me to play?”

“I said sorry,” Jameson defended arms in the air, as if he’s being arrested.

“It’s like that one scene in Frozen,” Xander sighed, “when baby Elsa shuts baby Anna out, you know the whole ‘do you wanna build a snowman’ sequence.”’

“Jameson how could you!” I gasped.

“Right!” Xander said, looking at me, “I knew I liked you.”

“I’m quite likeable I suppose,” I grinned.

“Tomorrow, three am strip bowling,” Jameson said to Xander, “my treat?”

“Throw in snacks and drink and you’re on,” he grinned, nodding.

“Done,” Jameson nodded, “hey Xand, on the topic of strip bowling, I do have a question for you.”

“Shoot,” he said, with

“Do earrings count in strip bowling?” he asked, shooting a sly smile my way.

I scrunched my nose up at him which only widened his pathetic smile.

“Yes,” Xander responded. My eyes widened and my face lit up. I was unable to form any competent words.

“Ha!” I exclaimed, pointing at Jameson.

“What?” Jameson protested loudly, his face flattened, his smile no more, “since when?”

“Don’t you remember when you pierced your left ear when you were thirteen because you thought it would make you look edgy?” Xander replied, “you wore an earring for 6 months and always insisted it counted in strip bowling!”

“You did what?” I gaped, trying so hard to suppress my giggles.

“Oh shut up,” he snapped at me and rolled his eyes, “thanks Xand.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled.

“Embarrassing me through childhood stories is Nash’s thing though,” he replied.

“He let me trade for an hour,” Xander shrugged.

“So what’s he doing,” I asked.

“Creating a machine with odd qualities whilst simultaneously consuming several blueberry scones,” he said, “…obviously.”

“I should’ve seen that one coming,” Jameson sighed.

“You should’ve, do you even know your own brothers?” he replied in mock offence.

“Sometimes I don’t know,” he shrugged, “honestly you surprise when even when I think you can’t anymore.”

“Well I’ll see you two lobsters later, my eyebrows growing back to much, I need to singe it off again with something explosive!”

He rushed off before I could even respond. This house was mental, but in the best way possible.

I turned to Jameson confused, “Lobsters?”

“That’s what you’re asking about?” he almost laughed.

“Why lobsters?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, hands crammed into his pockets, green eyes making me hallucinate being in his arms even more.

I waited. I waited for him to pick up where we left off, for his hand to actually grip my waist, for our lips to tingle with each others taste but there was nothing. He did nothing. The silence is the loudest force in the room and it made my heartache.

“You used to wear an earring,” I grinned, changing to subject to heal my sinking heart.

“Let’s revisit the lobster debate,” he replied, turning rosy. It was cute.

“Oh no no no, you are not getting out of this one,” I said with a giggle.

“Where there’s a will there’s a way,” he countered, with a nonchalant shrug.

“So what kind of earring was it, diamond?” I continued, with a smile I knew would probably be annoying him.

“I’m not answering you,” he replied bluntly.

“That’s okay, I’ll just ask Xander, or Nash when they’ve switched back,” I mused.

“They won’t give up that kind of information to a practical stranger,” he scoffed.

“Don’t be so sure, I thought they surprised you every day,” I countered, quoting him.

“You’re annoying,” he scrunched up his nose.

“One of my many many talents,” I shrugged softly.

“Don’t get too cocky,” he warned, with the kind of Hawthorne smirk that was to die for.

I raised my eyebrows, “says the king of cockiness.”

“You’ve known me less than a day,” he deadpanned.

“My inference skills are also incredible,” I winked.

He laughed a little, “what should we do now then?”

“I don’t know, find something else to do?” I said.

“You don’t want to carry on with strip bowling?” he replied

“There won’t be much to strip in a minute,” I scoffed, gesturing to my limited clothing.

“That’s part of the game,” he replied, shooting me a lopsided grin.

“You’ve known me for less than a day,” I mocked.

Jameson glared at me playfully, “don’t quote me.”

“But it’s fun,” I whined, pouting slightly.

“You’re annoying,” he replied, messing up my hair.

“Another one of my many perks!” I responded, ducking under his arm whilst slapping him away.

“How about a game of poker?” he asked, the subject changing so fast I nearly got whiplash.

I’d never been that good at poker. I’d been taught when I was younger, I knew the basic rules but I hadn’t played in years. I was rusty. I remembered the last time I’d played, in a bar at fourteen. I’d snagged myself one hundred dollars. I was praying for the miracle to reensue.

“Are you a betting man Hawthorne?” I raised a challenging eyebrow, one he couldn’t ignore. Avery mentioned that he couldn’t turn down a challenge.

“All Hawthornes are betting men,” he said coolly.

“That sounds risky,” I grinned.

“Not if you don’t mind taking the risk,” he cocked his head to the side.

“Where are your playing cards?” I asked.

He picked up his jacket and shook the sleeve gently, a packet of cards falling into his open hand. I suppressed my shock.

“They’re up your sleeve,” I said dryly, “how original.”

“I think you mean impressive,” he replied.

“If it helps you sleep at night, then sure impressive,” I responded.

“You wound me,” he faked a wince, holding onto his heart.

“Blood goes well with your eyes,” I shrugged.

“Better make a deeper wound then,” he murmured, our faces dangerously close.

“Okay,” I bit my bottom lip, “…I beat you at chess a few hours ago.”

“Too deep princess,” he replied.

“Princess?” I questioned, my eyebrows knotting together.

“What’s wrong with it?” he shrugged.

“It’s not my name,” I said bluntly.

“My apologies Princess y/n,” he grinned, taking a step back to bow before me.

I smacked the back of his head, “you’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“I think you’ve already used that line,” he countered, standing up, tentatively touching the back of his head.

“Thought I’d reinforce it,” I said.

“Remind me to teach you how to slap,” he replied, trying to get under my skin, “that was pathetic.”

“I know it hurt you,” I smiled, “don’t be stubborn.”

“Poker,” he sing-songed waving the cards at me as we sat on the floor.

I crossed my legs and watched as he shuffled the cards. He’d probably done it thousands of times, seen as the motions were so fluid, so captivating. Like an illusion. He cracked one of his signature grins my way and then he dealt.

“This isn’t hawthorne poker is it?” I asked, as he finished up.

“No it’s just regular poker,” he replied, “for now.”

His smirk made my insides tingle and my head go a little fuzzy. We picked up our card and he analysed his set sharply. He was on it, he was ready. Unlike when he was playing chess, he was tense. His focus was harder, his intensity was stronger. He was like a raging fire containing in a bottle coated in kerosine.

It was time to play.

***

There was a flash. My head whipped around to look at the window and I dropped all my cards. Thumped rumbled in the distance and I approached the window to see if it was raining. A second flash.

“Lightning,” Jameson mused from behind me, making me jump.

“There’s a storm coming,” I whispered.

“That’s ominous,” he chuckles, his breath is so hot on the back of my neck that it makes me shiver.

“Let’s hope it isn’t our author’s use of pathetic fallacy,” I turned my head so our faces are close.

“Our author?” he furrowed his brows.

“Whoever writes the stories we’re living,” I replied.

“So that’s how you think of things?” he asked, sounding somewhere between amused and curious.

“The things we do, the people we meet, the places we see, it’s all meant to be, someone wrote it for us,” I smiled, “it’s prettier to think that it was in the stars but even if it’s not, it’s all written somewhere.”

“That must be on hell of a book,” he grinned, then said, “you dropped your cards.”

I turned to face him, “I know.”

“You had a straight flush,” he replied. It was true. I had done better than I’d ever done at poker, apparently the miracle workers were on my side today.

“I know,” I nodded.

“And I couldn’t tell,” he said slowly.

“I know,” I repeat, eyebrows raised.

“You were going to beat me,” he stated, “…again.”

First at chess, now at poker, he was getting sensitive.

“I-“

“Don’t say I know again,” he said quickly.

“Okay,” I replied.

“No one has ever beaten me at poker before,” he said.

“I must be extra special then,” I joked.

“I think you’re more than that,” he smiled.

My lips parted, “what?l

“I think you’re beautiful,” he murmured, the green of his eyes too addicting to turn away from.

I was caught off guard. Was this some sort of fantasy? Beautiful. He had just called me beautiful. My heart raced all of a sudden and fireworks went off in my brain. I was too tongue tied in shock and joy to reply.

“Thank you?” I managed to say after a few beats.

No. No. No. No. I cursed myself. I didn’t mean to say that, like that. That wasn’t how it was meant to sound. If there had been a table near by I would’ve whacked my head on it a good few times.

“Tell me you feel it to,” Jameson pleaded, his void a low hum, “whatever the hell this is between us.”

“Oh I can feel it,” I replied, my voice quiet, seductive.

“That makes this difficult,” he exhaled slowly.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t trust myself with you,” he admitted, looking into my eyes, his expression so pained it made me ache.

“Then trust me,” I insisted, taking his hands into mine.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he chuckled lightly, “in the best possible way. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Funny you seem to be doing the same with me,” I giggled.

His face suddenly grew solemn, a look I hadn’t seen a lot of his face, “you don’t want this with me, I promise you I’m dangerous.”

“I like dangerous,” I shrugged.

“Target on my back, run into fire for fun, love too hard kind of dangerous,” he clarified, studying my face for any sign of me changing my mind.

“I’ll reevaluate that statement then,” I said, pausing.

He waited, so still, so quiet that I questioned whether he was breathing.

“I love dangerous,” I whispered, my eyes lighting up.

He only smiled at me then leaned down, cupping my face in his palms. His scent washed over me, delicate and alluring. His lips neared mine and I closed my eyes. The first kiss was gentle and sweet, it was the soft kind of kiss that every girl dreams her first kiss would be. But after that first few sweetened kisses, I got hungrier, I wanted not just to taste him but to indulge in him.

I kissed him harder with a new added passion and he realised I wasn’t messing around, that I wasn’t afraid. He delivered back, not worried to be rougher with his kisses. We moved with the emotion and the intensity of the moment. A fiery feeling ignited my heart. Love. My back hit the wall and his hands found their way to my waist. Pinned by a frenzy of kisses, I suddenly remembered I needed to breathe. It seemed Jameson did to. We pulled away, chests both heaving, hearts both racing.

“Lobsters,” I murmured breathlessly.

“What?” he asked, the most adorable confusion plastered across his soft features.

“Lobsters,” I smiled like an idiot, “they mate for life.”

a/n: people who actually know how to play poker, don’t come at me, I know I need to learn!!

warning you guys now there will be no part 3 😊😊 sorry

thank you for reading 🤍🤍

THE JAMESON CARD BETTER BE HERE SOON 👹👹 IM MANIFESTING IT WITH THIS FIC

TIG masterlist

[collapsedglasshouses]

HEAVEN KNOWS I AIN'T GETTING OVER YOU || Joakim Karlsson x fem!Reader

picture found on pinterest

PAIRING: ex-husband!Jolly x fem!reader

SUMMARY: When Jolly visits you unannounced on a Tuesday night, you have no idea what it leads to.

WARNINGS: SMUT [oral sex, female receiving; unprotected p in v], possessive!jolly, ANGST, jolly and reader have a daughter together (y/d/n), MDNI, 18+

TAGLIST: @measuredingold @cncohshit @circle-with-me @jilliemiw86 @justeli6 (If you wanna be added to my taglist in general, leave a comment or message me privately!)

A/N: i wrote this in one sitting and i'm so proud of it that i can't hide it for one second longer. i hope you like it! also this isn't proofread, im very sorry ._.

MASTERLIST

[y/d/n = your daughter’s name]

You thought the hardest thing you had ever done in your entire life was the process of deciding to file for divorce from your ex-husband Jolly, but he had proven you wrong. It was that he had signed the papers without an argument or fight. He had just done it.

It had stung, how he came back from a long tour, saw the papers laying on the kitchen counter and just signed them. It hurt but you also knew it was for the best. That he didn’t fight with you was hard, but it also made it in some ironic way easier.

Since you had a daughter together, he came over only on the weekends when he was home from touring and normally, he’d only pick up your daughter and leave again; not really much conversation going on between you except the necessary small talk. He was a good father and human after all, and you were glad for that.

After some time, routine came back and somewhat everything began to feel normal again. You began to date again, and Jolly seemed to live his life to the fullest. You were happy for him.

That changed when your doorbell rang on a Tuesday evening. You were sitting on the couch watching TV when you heard the sound and for the first couple of seconds you thought about not opening the door. After all, it was almost 8 PM and you were kind of scared there would be someone trying to break in or hurt you, but when it rang again you became curious.

“Joakim?” You asked surprised when you saw him standing there.

“Is it true?” He just asked and looked you dead in the eye.

“What?” You answered him confused. He looked like he hadn’t slept properly since he brought back your daughter two days ago.

“On the weekend, y/d/n said you were seeing someone.” He asked, his tone careful, yet you could sense some sort of hurt in his voice.

“Do you maybe wanna come in before you confront me about stuff that hasn’t got anything to do with you?” You grumbled at him in a sarcastic tone, which he ignored while stepping into the place you once called home together.

He walked into the living room, followed by you. There he crossed his arms in front of your chest and looked at you, disappointed.

“What do you want to here, Joakim? I don’t remember that we agreed to be abstinent for the rest of our lives.” You snarled at him and mirrored is gesture.

“Don’t you think it still hurts that I hear that from our daughter instead of you?” He responded in the same tone.

“I don’t know why you suddenly seemed to care.” You grumbled. “Since you didn’t show any interest in me for… how long is it now? One and a half years?”

“You didn’t even let me explain myself and threw the divorce papers at me. How do you think I feel?” He angrily expressed.

“I don’t even need to tell you this, but there is no other guy. I went on two dates. TWO dates, Jolly.” You answered him while ignoring how his statement stung. You knew it had been egoistic of you, but the months before the divorce, he either wasn’t at home or when he was, he didn’t even look at you. You felt unimportant, unloved, neglected. And now he was throwing around these statements. You wished he had done it earlier. You wished he would have opened up to you. The fact that he only did it because he saw the potential danger of another person in your life, hurt you so much.

Jolly took a deep breath. “I feel like we never even talked about this whole separation.”

“You were the one who didn’t ask when I handed you the papers, Joakim.” You said, your tone a lot calmer than it had been before but you still were angry. You were glad that your daughter was having a sleepover at a friend's house that night, otherwise she would have already been downstairs.

When Jolly didn’t say anything for another solid minute, you sighed.

“Don’t you think it is a bit too late to talk now?” You mumbled defeated and ran a hand through your hair. “I hope you know that I didn’t do that to hurt you. We both know it would have ended way uglier if we dragged it out longer than it already had been.”

You saw how Jolly swallowed hard.

“You know I still love you?” He almost whispered and let his hands fall to his sides. When you looked at him like that, he almost looked broken… defeated. For the first time since what felt like ages, you felt like he let his guard down. Like he wasn’t trying to hide his feelings away.

“I know, Jolly.” You answered him. “And I also know that a part of me still loves you and always will, but we both know that this isn’t going to work. At least not like this.”

He slowly took a step towards you, carefully watching your reaction. When you didn’t look reluctant or took a step back, he reached for your hand and grabbed it.

“I am so sorry that all of this happened. I thought about everything that had happened. Long before the divorce. I know how cruel I was to leave you in the dark. To not talk to you when I needed nothing but your comfort. I thought that I would get through everything by myself.” He told you with honesty in his voice.

“You didn’t have to go through everything alone. That is what a marriage is for, Jolly. I would have been more than happy to help you. I still am if you need me.” You whispered out and looked into the eyes of the man you had and still loved so dearly, and you felt how your heart hurt.

“I always need you, y/n. I need you so bad.” Jolly responded and you saw how his eyes became glossy. Without even thinking you wrapped your arms around his torso and hugged him tightly. You felt how tears started to form in your eyes and it broke your heart when you heard him sniffle for a second.

When you leaned back to look at him, there was this foolish hope in your heart. The hope that you would be able to find back to each other. But your brain knew, even if you did eventually manage to do that, now was not the right time for it.

“Can I kiss you?” Jolly asked and you felt warmth form in your stomach. You knew you should have said no. You knew you should have been strong, but you still nodded.

Your lips met with a ferocity born from years of unspoken words and yearning. The taste of his mouth a bittersweet reminder of everything you had lost.

It felt like you kissed for an eternity and still, when you pulled away, it felt like it wasn’t long enough. You missed him. You missed everything about him, from his small jokes to the way it felt when you fell asleep next to him. He was what made this house a home.

“We shouldn’t.” You whispered against his lips, and he nodded. Before he could even think about letting you go, you pressed your lips against his for a second kiss. This one being much more eager than the previous one.

Slowly but surely, you stumbled towards the couch and soon you were laying under him, lips still connected as if life depended on it. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and you couldn’t help but sigh into the kiss.

It didn’t take long until his fingers curled into the waistband of your shorts and panties. For a second, he leaned back to look for consent in your eyes. When you eagerly nodded, he tugged them down your legs.

He kissed you deeply before lowering himself down your body. You shivered when you felt his breath against your core and not even a second later you felt his warm tongue sliding through your folds. He drew skillful circles around your clit. A wave of warmth washed over you as you moaned out his name and it felt so wrong and so right at the same time. You had missed him so much.

Your hand reached for his and he was quick to intertwine your fingers. Your nails pressed into the skin on his hand as your back arched in pleasure.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He pleaded as he raised his head for a second to look at you through his lashed and you felt like you could come on the spot.

“I’m yours, Joakim. I always will be.” You whimpered out and it was all he needed to hear as his head lowered again.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the waves of your orgasm washing over you, as you screamed out his name. Your vision blurred for a second as you came on his tongue. He kissed the inside of your thighs until you slowly came down from your high, before he came up to look at you again.

You grabbed his face and kissed him with such force, he feared to collapsed right on the spot. You could taste yourself on his tongue and the feeling of the fabric of his jeans against your naked cunt made you shiver in overstimulation.

In a swift motion, he turned you on your stomach and you heard how he unzipped his pants. The next thing you felt was hot kisses pressed to the back of your neck and you sighed in need. You needed to feel him, even if it was the last time.

“Do you have a condom?” He groaned into your ear.

“You don’t need one, Joakim. I’m clean and on the pill.” – “Got it.”

You clenched your fists into the fabric of the couch as you felt him enter you. A delicate burn formed inside of you as he stretched your walls. He was gentle but still you let out a small yelp as he bottomed out in one stroke. The small groan that escaped from Jolly’s lips, let you clench around him for a moment.

“God.” He moaned. “I wish I could stay inside of you forever.”

You moaned as a response.

“I’ll make you mine, even if it’s the last time.” He groaned as he slung an arm around your torso, making you slightly sit on him as he thrusted into you.

“I’ll be yours.” You whimpered and reached behind you to grab onto his hair. You moved in a rhythm as you felt the knot tighten in your stomach for a second time. One of Jolly’s hands travelled between your thighs and began to rub small circles on your wet clit.

“God, Jolly. I’m gonna come.” You almost screamed out.

“I’ve got you.” He breathed out as you felt the intense sensation of your second orgasm rolling over you. You felt how your body slowly lost strength, but you held yourself together for him.

You fell forward, leaning on your elbows as his hands grabbed your hips. Shortly after that you felt how he was twitching inside of you and he let out a loud groan as he finished inside of you, his cum filling you up until it began to drip. He grabbed the armrest of the couch in front of you to not let his weight drop on you as he mumbled out small love confessions.

For a couple of moments, neither of you dared to move. He peppered your shoulder with small kisses while you both tried to tame your breaths. Even though, you both didn’t want to, he eventually pulled out of you and got up, as you slowly laid down on your back.

After a minute or so he reappeared with a washcloth and gently cleaned you up, before helping you up from the couch and to the bathroom to go to the toilet.

After you finished and came back to the living room, he handed you your clothes and you both got fully dressed again, before looking at each other in awkward silence.

You knew what he was going to say, before he could even finish.

“Maybe, I should-…” – “Stay.”

He blinked a couple of times as his eyes lit up.

“Y/d/n isn’t coming back until tomorrow after school. You can stay.” You almost whispered and hoped he wouldn’t leave you in that state. “I want you to stay.”

“Okay.” He muttered and nodded slightly. “I will.”

As the two of you sat down on the couch, a wave of guilt washed over you. This was a forbidden taste of the past that only solidified the painful truth. You were bound by a love that could never be, at least not now…

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[little-tainted-angel]

๑ Realizing love is there...

Xiao x male!reader, Venti x male!reader and Kaeya x male!reader (separated)

Category: [Fluff/sfw]

Warnings: Mention of Zhongli (Xiao's part). Zhongli calls Xiao "child". Mention of Kaeya (Venti's part), mention of Diluc (Venti's part), Venti is drunk for half his part. Mention of alcohol. Mention of Rosalia, Klee, Jean, Diluc and Lisa in Kaeya's part. Reader is mentioned but doesn't actively participates in it.

Request: Yes / No | From: 🕸️ anon.

«Hello, you can call me 🕸 anon! Can you write Xiao, Venti and Kaeya realizing they have a crush on the reader? Ty !»

Waaa! My first emoji anon! 🥰 I'm so happy- welcome!

「 ✦ XIAO ✦ 」

Xiao had been an adeptus for longer than he could properly remember, and the feeling of «love», in romantic contexts, wasn't something he was familiar with.

He's seen countless couples in his years of existence, but he never quite grasped the concept of what it meant to love someone outside of family.

That human desire to kiss someone? That need of multiple actions he could not wrap his head on? He was clueless.

Perhaps that was why he didn't know what that heat on his chest meant. That feeling of something tugging at his heart and filling him with that sort of anxiety that left him on guard.

What confused him the most was that you were the cause of it. Had you cursed him some way without him realizing?

He even managed to believe you were a threat.

Of course, confused as to why the ever so calm adeptus was acting on edge with you, Zhongli decided to ask Xiao what was happening.

The god found himself amused when Xiao explained the situation to him.

"Ah, my dear child. I believe I know what id that you're feeling." Zhongli hummed, muffling a small chuckle that dared escape his lips. "Fear not, as it is not dangerous."

"Huh? If it's not dangerous, what is it?" Xiao asked, frowning slightly at the consistent incognita of what was that feeling you caused.

"Mm, I believe the simplest term of it would be «love», Xiao."

Safe to say, if his entire life didn't already gave him existencial crisis on a daily basis, trying to come to terms with the idea of falling in love was surely passing with five stars its debut.

From that day, he started to study you. Trying to figure out if what Morax explained to him was accurate, and if so, how.

And soon enough, he found himself admiring little things you did. How you acted around others, how your personality was like.

So this was what love felt? To wish to admire you, close or from afar, as long as you kept being true to yourself?

If that was it... Love might not be that bad after all.

He wouldn't confess though, not until he manages to understand better how to process his feelings. Just because he understood what love felt like, didn't meant he understood how to act with it.

It would probably take a while, but he was patient. He just hoped you could wait for him too.

「 ✦ VENTI ✦ 」

The God of Freedom had been a free soul his entire life. And while he had experienced the cons and pros of it, the lost and happiness of friends and people he could even consider family, he never had fallen in love with someone.

And oh dear archons if he had fallen hard for you.

The wind was free, yet somehow he had never felt as free as when he was with you.

As a Mondstadt citizen, he would usually see you as one of his children. But he couldn't help but see you, not as his child, but as a companion to his free life.

"Isn't he divine?" The god murmured softly as he watched you from afar.

Kaeya hummed with humor as she watched the Anemo Archon look so helplessly in love while he was drunk in the Angel's share.

"I suppose he is," Kaeya replied, amused.

The god knew what love meant. What it implied.

He also knew what it implied for him to fall in love with a mortal that wouldn't be able to live more than a few decades.

But as he watched you from afar; the man that managed to get his full attention like the best wine, he decided that the consequences were worth it.

"If you like them so much, why don't you go ahead and confess?" Diluc replied as he cleaned one of the glasses.

"Eh? But what if he rejects me Master Diluc?" Venti pouted as he rested his head on top of the counter.

"Then it wasn't meant to be." Diluc's replied calmly, a small frown on his face as he watched the drunk bard. "Now stop drinking before you embarrass yourself more than average."

"Master Diluc is cruel."

"So I've been told."

Needless to say, to confess to you he had to be:

Drunk.

He had to count with someone's (Diluc's) help.

It's a miracle he managed to get you to date him.

「 ✦ KAEYA ✦ 」

He was quick to realize he liked you. The Calvary Captain of the Knights of Favonius could be slightly flirty if he wanted, and therefore knew how exactly certain feelings felt like.

But realizing he was in love for you, that had been a rollercoaster for him.

You were an incredible man. And the times he caught a glimpse of your smile he couldn't help but feel like he was just falling harder for your presence.

He smiled at the slight mention of your name. And would try to take care of you when you needed it the most.

Of course, this also meant he got free teasing from Lisa, Jean and Rosalia.

Also Klee's questions about if you were his boyfriend, or husband, or if you were already dating.

He might have heard Lisa laugh more times in his crushing-for-you time than in the whole time he had met Lisa.

"If you know you like them, why don't you confess already then?" Rosalia asked him while they were getting drinks at Angel's share

"I want it to be a more perfect moment."

"When it includes you? I doubt that's possible," Diluc commented as he served another client.

"That's a bit cruel even for you, Master Diluc."

So he does try to plan for it to be perfect. He slowly manages to get stuff you like, wanting to be a good time between both of you.

He almost messes all of it up (Diluc has premonition powers now???), but was able to not mess it up at last minute.

Perhaps Barbaros was on his side that day.

[blommp717]

I try to follow what you are saying, but I find your content confusing, and based on some of your repeat asks, I’m not the only one. The way you explain ND could use improvement, in my opinion. Maybe it’s because English isn’t your first language or because your understanding of ND is more theoretical than experiential—it seems like both. This is fine, but have you considered improving your English (or teaching in your mother tongue and paying a professional translation service?) and actually living in the ND state of being (not just reading or watching videos about it) before attempting to teach in a language you seem to struggle with? You could be more successful and less misleading.

There’s a lot of misunderstanding and inaccuracies in your writings, and your pinned post gives the impression that you aren’t the type of person to humbly take advice and cultivate self-awareness. Which in and of itself doesn't really reflect what one would expect from a guru or someone who has reached a profoundly deep nondualistic understanding and wishes to guide others. You seem bothered by critique or questions that you haven't already read the answer to. Maybe you could sincerely cultivate Self-awareness of how you are appearing to people who have genuinely experienced the ND state of being, not just an intellectual understanding, and those who have not. Maybe I’m wrong (I very well could be), but it seems like you read about it but haven’t actually had experiences beyond reading and thinking about it. It feels shallow and without real rooting in experience, not just theoretical knowledge. This is just a humble observation from another seeker on the path, so take it with many grains of salt. May you find equanimity and authentic awakening and be of genuine assistance to others. Peace.

I most definitely think you’re coming from a space of aggression instead of actually trying to inquire firstly, moving forward. I don’t really get how people asking questions is an indicator of me not knowing what I’m really talking about as opposed to people learning to accept how easy it is. Allot of these people come from LOA so they think there’s a process, they think there’s work to do, so having such a drastic shift will obviously not feel easy at first 🤭and secondly I’m baffled about the language comment, I have zero clue what makes you think that kind of stuff is okay to say to anyone, regardless of if it’s true or not, please seek some humanity and get it together. You don’t want to be saying all of that b.s to the wrong person. I reallllyy hope you don’t act like this in person with anyone.

Alright so, to what the actual focus of your text should have been.

If you notice, my pinned post was allot more recent than when I started posting, it was more of a response to someone claiming I’m giving false hope and that explaining the idea of “manifestation” alongside non-duality is wrong. Which I’m literally not, im not sure if your truly following up on what I’ve posted because I make it very very clear since the beginning and almost in every post with a long ask that I. Am. Not. Teaching. You. How. To. Manifest. There’s absolutely no such thing, it might look like it and feel like it but it’s not. I even have a post where the entire thing is me talking about why there’s no such thing as manifestation. And I have zero clue where you got any of that information about who I am as a person from that post alone when all I’m stating is how I’m not going to stop helping people? 😭😭

I think another confusion people who “enter” NonDualism have is they think awakening is real. You told me to reach a state of ND being or the State of ND which I’m not really sure what you mean by that because it doesn’t exist. It’s sadly time to burst the bubble. There is no awakening, if you truly understand nonduality, there is no journey, there’s no goal, there nothing that you can do to achieve enlightenment because it doesn’t exist, these are concepts and ideas self realized to give the “self” and “I” a reason to exist. I perfectly well understand what nonduality at its core is and have hundreds of what I’m sure people would call “succes stories” with it. My old posts have plenty of explaining as to what, just, no duality states regardless of getting what you want. How can there be a journey? There is no self thst has a journey, just ideas and thoughts spinning together in a flurry and naming it “self”. You don’t exist.

And for you, you want to understand no duality? I’m going to try not to be cryptic but here we go. You can’t and neither can I , no one can understand and seek, you’re not a seeker and there is no path, this is the truth. And no one can have a journey because there is no identity in any of this, there is no self as a person, there is no “me” on a “path”, there is no “one” here who understands anything. It’s all self actualizing thoughts making it seem like there is a journey, the “I” or what people call ego, needs purpose to exist. It feels like a threat when everything is dissolved. The idea that there is more to do, will be true for as long as you pretend it is. And without the false idea of a journey this “self”or “me” loses its purpose. It can be “hard” to accept but truly it doesn’t matter because the nature of existence will not change. Think about it why does the idea of something higher, a bigger step, some grand moment seem so enticing? And for who does it seem so enticing for? The false identity, the “me” the “self”. It’s just another story. You might sit and be, it may lead you deeper into sensations in the body and most likely a “profound” sense of understanding, but quite honestly if your looking for a tiny spark of magic to keep you going on and thinking there’s even more and even more to experience, it would be absolutely useless.

You are already all, whats there to find

Understanding nonduslity is realizing, how can any of this be more grand if there is only one, how can more be achieve if there is a constant state of nonduality? How can the illusion reach a higher state… the higher state is also just illusory, the self, body and world is just illusory. You as everything are pretending to be a person pretending a self and pretending that this person is also self and needs to understand and reach more profound states of being.

This is how “manifestation” is possible. There is no one and nothing “happening” all there appears to be is what you appear as, it’s hollow, almost like a projection. This can’t be turned off, you appear as all there is and as long as the body is here thoughts will appear, ideas will appear, visualizations will appear, you take it as just thinking or talking to yourself or daydreaming or predicting what might happen next, but that’s all what “manifesting” is. In every timeless moment (instant is not fast enough so I say timeless) stories are realized, you take it effortlessly as how your life is. Simple things like how you expect your parents to respond to you not picking up their phone, or what kind of day at your gonna have at school to literally everything, it’s constant, it’s everything, it’s always “on”. Your luck, the compliments you receive, how things work or don’t work out for you, all of it. This is not just life as it is but the entire “manifestation” it’s an experience of what “it” (you) appears as. And if all is what you are and the appearance relies on the perception of the appearance, then perceiving any type of story like, having brown eyes but you want blue. Okay, “I have blue eyes” this is not an affirmation, this is a truth, this is what “ “ (you) now appear as, timelessly, and needing proof or evidence is useless as it puts the attention back at “has it changed it”. If you understand its all you, you also know needing evidence or proof is truly completely useless. “But I checked the mirror and my eyes are still brown” with what understanding did you move to the mirror with. An expectancy of brown eyes? Hmm.

Well I think this is getting long winded, I’m not gonna make this even longer than it is, hopefully you find some clarity in this and I strongly urge you, before making random comments or being just rude, ask yourself with what state of mind am I moving forward. Do I really need to say it this way? Because truly, I’ll remain here doing what I do, I’m incredibly grateful that I can be able to help so many people so it brings me a sense of joy (though unreal 🤭). But I hope you understand there is a proper way to question and criticize, and well, your claims feel like they were based off reading 2 posts and calling it a day 😭😭. Anyways I actually will thank you regardless, I’m sure many people can learn from what you’ve initiated me to explain, have a great life, I hope to see you come again in future posts 🫶🫀🪷🪷☀️

[alovesreading]

Nice Kind Of Messy

Summary: Your friends set you up on a blind date, one that you aren't really looking forward to at all but when you find George Daniel there waiting outside the restaurant, there is no doubt it'll be a date to remember.

Word Count: 16.7k 

Warnings: smut.

A/N: So I wrote this as part of my Alex series but I figured I should turn it into a one shot so my George girlies could read it without having to commit to a long Alex Turner fic lol It took me a while to get it ready on one shot form but I hope you enjoy now that it's here hehehe xx

Masterlist

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You wake up that morning quite nervous. Your excitement makes you shiver in anticipation but the feeling brushes the line of anxiety and it’s rather overwhelming.

You’ve not been really looking to date lately, there hasn’t been any type of enthusiasm when hinted about putting yourself out there again since you got cheated on by your ex boyfriend. You couldn’t be arsed about it—the whole process of actively trying to look for a person that you felt was right and suited what you at least felt was the bare minimum was exhausting just to think about.

Going out with your friends was almost always a failed mission. They tried to get you out on the pull with them but you ended up straying back to the table and waving them goodbye when they came back with someone hanging from their arm, winking at them as if to wish them a good night.

They had only been lucky to send you off with someone a handful of times, but despite their best efforts to push you to pursue those who you had spent a night with, you had left them as that: a one night stand.

So they had used a new method this time, which entailed the fact that they had apparently been scheming about behind your back for a few weeks. You had only found out when you were having a wine night with them over at your flat, your jaw dropping and brows furrowing when they let you know they had made a reservation at a certain restaurant in Covent Garden so that you could meet up with someone they swore was the perfect match for you.

“It’s a blind date, we can’t tell you,” said one of your friends with a wicked grin on her face, sipping on her wine as you took the time to glare at your other two friends sitting on your settee.

They only offered you gallic shrugs and giggles, bubbly and high pitched which unfortunately managed to tug at the corners of your lips until they formed a smile.

A happy, “You’re excited then?” made you realize what you were doing, so you took a gulp of your wine and shook your head in disagreement as you swallowed.

“No, I’m just confused.” You really were, it was worse you didn’t have a clue who it could be because there wasn’t really anyone you think had shown interest towards you that you all knew. “Am I allowed to back out?”

You hoped you could, even if a meal at a restaurant you had been dying to go to for ages paid by one of them was on the cards here, but you were truly wary about throwing yourself into a situation where you actually had to put yourself in the dating mindset.

As you cursed your stupid cheating scum of an ex for ruining the prospect of dating for you, your friends shook their heads and said, “No.” in unison.

And they unfortunately went on to explain how your date knew about it already and had cleared their schedule for it to happen, and since you were an awful people pleaser, you sighed in defeat and agreed to go.

So there you are, slowly making your way to your kitchen to make yourself breakfast, despite the nerves making your stomach flip constantly and making you nauseous. Slowly you eat, slowly you wash your dishes and put them away.

You do everything slowly that day, taking a long shower and lounging in bed, still in your robe and letting your hair air dry. The date wasn’t until four so you still had time, and you figured if you went about it at a steady pace, then by the time you were fully ready you would have to leave and there wouldn’t really be a long space of time for you to bail out at the last minute.

By the time it hits noon, you’re doing your hair. Straightening it and curling the ends leisurely, humming along the music you’re playing on your speakers which is interrupted by a call.

“Good afternoon Miss Y/L/N, are you ready for today?” One of your friends greets you with a chipper tone in her voice, you could practically see the beaming smile on her face just from her voice.

Biting on your bottom lip, you let the phone rest on your lap as you continue with the next section of hair and shyly admit, “I’m actually nervous…”

The way she coos at you makes you roll your eyes but there’s a wave of consolation that comes over you when she says, “Good but also don’t be. He’s an absolute dream.”

The tiny piece of information actually makes you more curious about who he is, so you try your chances again as you ask, “Are you finally gonna tell me who it is?”

You had been trying all week to get anything out of your friends but they had been surprisingly good at keeping this one secret under a lock. And this time wouldn’t be different since you only get a vague, “All you have to know is that he’s fit and I know you’ll get on with him perfectly well.”

At least the reassurance that you and him would get on well eases your nerves a little. Not as much as you would like though, but that’s because you know yourself and when you first meet anyone, you get shy and a bit awkward, so you’re praying that you'll be able to get a bit of courage not to make a fool out of yourself.

Thankfully your friend stays on the phone with you as you finish doing your hair and you actually facetime her when you’re doing your makeup. She keeps making you laugh throughout it all and somehow makes you forget about how tense you had been for a bit.

Her boyfriend, Matty, comes back to her flat from a meeting right as you’re showing your friend the dress you’re wearing for the date and, to her dismay, he almost slips and tells you who it is that you’re seeing in merely an hour from now.

“Matthew!” She exclaims loudly before the name can fall from his lips and he quickly throws his hand over his mouth with wide eyes.

His honest, “I’m so sorry.” sounds muffled behind his hand and it only gets an eye roll from your friend which makes you laugh.

But you are gutted that your only chance to find out is gone that way. You whine as you complain, “Why do you react so quickly?”

Your friend takes her boyfriend’s close mishap as a sign to let you go though, completely ignoring your complaint to remind you, “You’re gonna have to get faster Miss, it’s quarter past three and it’s a twenty five minute walk over there.”

“Shit, right.” You curse under your breath, realizing you need to get dressed already and leave as soon as you can so you aren't late.

“You look fucking stunning, babe.” She states with confidence, reassuring you since you seem to start growing panicky, “I’m gonna leave you now so you can change but you have the best time Y/N/N, alright?”

You purse your lips at the camera and clutch your chest, “Thanks hun, love you.”

She grins sweetly at you and reciprocates, “Love you too. And let me know how it goes, alright?”

“Will do, but I don’t promise anything too interesting.” You make sure to make that point clear, you don’t have much expectations for the date just so you don’t end up feeling defeated for it not meeting whatever you could imagine it to be if you allowed yourself to.

But your friend is in heavy doubt of it not being interesting considering she knows who you are meeting with. So she shrugs as she smirks, “Yeah, well… We shall see about that.”

It’s the way that she looks like she’s trying not to laugh that has you narrowing your eyes at her, “What?”

Question that isn’t answered because she plays dumb and simply says, “Okay byeee! Love you!” loudly, blowing you a kiss before hanging up the phone.

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You walk the best you can in your high heeled boots which were not a great pick when mixed with how nervous you are and how far you had to walk. You had debated getting a taxi when you were locking up your flat but decided against it when you realized that if you did, you’d get there quicker and you wanted to stall as much as you could.

You aren’t even late yet, ten minutes left for the clocks to strike four in the afternoon and you are merely five minutes away. The whole walk, you had been practicing in your head whatever you could say to the guy you were meeting with, just to prevent embarrassing yourself. If anything went wrong though, you had brought your camera with you and a few rolls were stuffed in your pocket so that you could at least take the opportunity to take pictures.

In your head, you had gone from any topics you could come up with about yourself, deciding against being the one to mention your tragic love life and picking a few questions that could be interesting to ask your date.

But all the inquiries and words you had been rehearsing die in your throat when you round the corner at the end of the restaurant’s street and you see the tall dirty blonde smoking a cigarette, leaning on a lamppost right by the entrance of the establishment.

You think of making a run back to your building, hesitating which way would be easiest to go and how it would work with your long dress but his eyes fall on you before you can make up your mind and when he smiles sweetly at you, cigarette perched between his lips, you know it’s too late.

On your face a shy smile breaks and you give him a little wave before approaching him, faking confidence as you get closer until he’s only a few feet away so you say, “Oh hi, I wasn’t expecting you.”

Your face is burning up and you know he can see your flustered demeanor because he smirks down at you, and cheekily asks, “Were you hoping for someone else?”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you smile harder at his playfulness and in a rush of bravery you choose to play along, “Do you really want to know the answer?”

He takes a drag of his cigarette and lets the smoke out steadily as he shakes his head, “I’m just hoping you remember my name.”

And how could you forget, “Of course I remember you, George.”

George hums, taking one last drag of his smoke as he takes in your appearance and he’s grinning mischievously when seeing the dark satin and lace of your dress contrasting on your skin, your leather jacket making you look even more stunning and coincidentally matching the one he’s wearing.

“Glad you haven’t, Y/N.” The drummer replies with a wink, dropping the bud on the ground and stepping on it before taking something out of the pocket of his dark jeans, “Y/F/N sent this for you.”

An involuntary “Oh.” falls from your lips, entirely intrigued by what it can be that your friend had wanted to tell you that couldn’t be said on the phone because George hands you a folded piece of paper that only says Y/N/N x on the front.

You carefully open it, trying your best to avoid George seeing it—which is a bit of an issue since he’s so tall he can easily read if he looks down—and you instantly blush harder when you read Get the nice kind of messy ;) x

A flashback of the moment at Glastonbury when you had been gawking at George and you had let slip how fit you found him comes to the forefront of your mind and you can’t help yourself getting a little flustered at the mere thought of it.

“He’s fit as fuck.” Your eyes are unable to move from his figure, the way his muscles contract and define with every hit of the drums and the facial expressions he makes as he plays.

Your friend snorts in laughter and leans in to ask further, “Oh, so you fancy George then?”

You stutter as you try to come up with a response, “I mean… Look at him!” You’re entirely entranced by it all and it doesn’t help that he’s covered in a thin coat of sweat already, only three songs into their set, so his white top is slowly becoming translucent and sticking to his body.

It’s like your brain is shutting down and all that it can register is the look of the drummer because it takes you a few long seconds to realize your friend has teasingly said, “I’ll make sure to relay that message.”

“Oh, no, don’t.” The panic of that happening is the one thing that helps you snap out of your trance.

You watch as your friend’s face contorts in confusion and she fights your answer, “Why?! You need to get back out there and who better than George?”

But you shake your head, “No, that’d be so messy!” You can’t think of anything worse than trying to get with your friend’s boyfriend’s best friend—you cringe just imagining how that going wrong would cause a horrendous change in the group’s dynamic.

All of your worries come to a halt and you choke on your own spit when your friend smirks as her eyes fall on George, “That’d be messy, alright. The nice kind of messy.”

In an attempt to try and play it cool, you fold the note and shove it in one of the pockets of your leather jacket, clearing your throat, adjusting the strap of your camera on your shoulder and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear like it’s all fine and normal.

But George can see the way you’re pursing your lips and how you hid the note so hastily so your behavior completely betrays your attempts to be secretive about it. “What did you say?” He kept his promise that he wouldn’t open the note when Matty gave it to him earlier that day, even though he’s been really tempted too, especially when he realized Matty knew what it said because he was giggling when his girlfriend handed it to him.

You don’t give him an answer though, only a little cough that acts as a coverup of you avoiding his gaze and a subtle shrug, “Just a little joke.”

“Can you share?” He tries further, his hand coming to nudge you softly in the arm.

Not even that helps your answer change. You shake your head and say a shy, “Not really.”

“I see how it is.” George narrows his eyes at you and adds, “S’alright, I’ll remember that.” which is a promise that has you biting your tongue.

“Shall we go inside?” The drummer says then, watching you struggling to come up with a response to his previous statement.

The new question is much easier to reply to, a soft “Yes.” falling from your lips, breathlessly.

And he takes your breath even more when he lets you walk ahead, only to rest his hand on your lower back delicately and casually comment, “You look beautiful by the way. Really like that we’re matching with the leather jackets.”

The opportunity to not acknowledge the compliment is perfect because you feel like you’re going to explode under George’s attention. You giggle and nod, “What a great coincidence huh?”

His answer being, “Hot coincidence.” accompanied by a wink doesn’t make it easy for you though and you find out then that being on a date with George Daniel means blushing every five minutes even if the chat is about mundane topics.

You talk about your hometowns and the differences between your upbringings, how different it was that you’d stayed in the same city for your entire life while he lived moving around for a good part of his childhood until his family settled in Manchester. You tell each other how you had ended up doing what you were doing currently and you end up cooing constantly when George tells you how the guys became friends and how the band had come together. You exchange stories about your jobs, finally having the opportunity to ask all that came to your mind about producing music which you had always found fascinating ever since you’d gotten closer to the band. George being fascinated about your knowledge on films and everything to do with photography and cinematography, which really comes with your job as a photographer and videographer.

Then he asks about your hand tattoo—the ‘Pure Desire’ written on the back of your hand is rather enticing—smirking when he rubs his thumb over it and asks if you have any more which ends up in you both sharing the amount of ink you have on your bodies which George beat you to by an incredible amount. You end up taking your jackets off and showing each other each piece you have on your skin.

Eventually, the chat comes back to the band and you ask him whereabouts The 1975 has toured so far. Your jaw drops the more his list continues and you genuinely have a hard time wrapping your head around them being relatively new to the mainstream scene when they are already going to all those places.

“I don’t even remember the last time I went on holiday, fucking hell.” You chuckle out in awe at the information he’s just given you.

And George turns your innocent amusement into a mess of heated cheeks, pressed lips and eye rolls when he suggests how that could be easily fixed, “We just have to take you on tour with us next time, don’t we?”

“Think it’ll be crowded enough now that Matty is taking Y/F/N with him.” Your eyebrows are raised to accentuate how serious you are trying to be about it, it’s so hard to conceal how flustered you are at his insinuation.

But he makes it difficult for you to play it cool when he shrugs, “We can share a bunk then.”

“You’re such a flirt. Bet you say that to all the girls.” It almost sounds like you’re scolding him and he likes seeing the reactions he can get out of you, but there’s one thing that has been constant in the back of his mind and he decides to bring it up.

Taking his glass up to his lips, he takes a sip and gulps softly to start saying, “Surprised me when Y/F/N called me and asked if I wanted to go on a date with you.”

“God, that’s embarrassing.” You wince at the information, hating the way it looks for your friends to be asking people around if they want to go out with you. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin and die in a ditch.

George smirks playfully, “Going on a date with me?”

You laugh in response to that, shaking your head before clearing up, “Y/F/N asking if you wanted to go out with me. You know you could’ve said no.”

He frowns at you, like you’ve just said the most outrageous thing and he wholeheartedly asks, “But why would I?”

“Oh George, stop it.” You warn him, pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes at him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” George reaches his hand out to touch yours and you almost shiver under it.

You let your fork down beside your plate and fan yourself with your hand as you admit, “You’re making me blush.”

But that’s not something that will keep him quiet, because he confesses, “Yeah and I quite enjoy doing it.”

The rest of the date is spent between good food, good wine, laughter, a picture you take of George when he asks about your camera, and chatter that has been really entertaining and entirely not awkward like you’d been expecting. Getting to know George in a deeper way is like a breath of fresh air and that’s why, when you leave the restaurant and the drummer offers to walk you back home, you don’t even hesitate to accept.

He takes a few detours on the way, taking you around places where he had hilarious and very wholesome stories of his childhood and teenage years when he would come around to London with the lads and other friends just to mess about. You’re so grateful for the anecdotes because you’re making sure to capture each place in its unique beauty and you know now that behind each shot you’d have the memory of what George had shared with you.

George watches you closely every time you take a picture, taking in every little thing you do before and after you press the shutter. You’re so adorable to him, the way your face lights up when you press the shutter and look at him excitedly when you roll the film.

You guide the both of you back to the way to your flat and as you walk, you’re smoking cigarettes and chatting. It’s so easy to carry a conversation with George, he exudes such an energy that just makes you feel free talking about whatever comes to your mind without having to think for a split second about what you should say or shouldn’t.

And just as easy comes laughter, because not only is his laugh hilariously contagious, he is funny himself and he has you struggling to catch your breath multiple times at his quips and comments.

There is something about this evening that you just feel the need to remember as best as you can so he catches you sneakily trying to take candids of him, every time he’s called you out on it and you shamelessly lie about the frame being focused on just what was behind him—every time something mundane and boring—but by the fifth time, instead of calling you out and have you grumpily change the focus of your lenses, he allows you to take a picture of him and even smiles for you; he doesn’t miss how your eyes twinkle after you’ve pressed the shutter.

The way you smile to yourself and proudly state, “I’m really gonna like that one.” makes George’s chest swell and in a lack of any more self control, he stops dead in his tracks and turns to you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you into him, your chest hitting his chest eliciting a gasp to fall from your lips.

“Oh hi.” You giggle at the sudden action, your hands subconsciously resting on his chest after that, but any other words die in your throat when he dips his head and traps your lips with his.

You hum into the kiss, which is a dizzying combination between sweet and determined. His left arm stays wrapped around your waist, pulling your flush into his chest but the other one comes up to cup your jaw and he keeps you at the perfect angle for him to kiss you just how he wants.

Your arms slowly move up until they are wrapped around the back of his neck and you let your fingers tangle in his hair. It’s soft and long on the top of his head which you really like. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, his fingers clutching your tighter and you let your mouth open so you can taste each other.

You completely forget where you are until someone walks past you and whistles at the two of you, startling you out of the kiss. You really enjoyed that kiss, and it shows in the way you look up at George with burning cheeks and something written on your face.

“I liked that.” George cheekily states, getting ahold of your hand and resuming your walk.

You hum, trying not to giggle when he intertwines your fingers and a feeling you can easily recognize starts bubbling inside you. “Yeah, I liked that too.”

You felt like a teenager. Blushing to yourself while you walked hand in hand with the person you had a crush on, and it’s so ridiculous but so relieving at the same time to feel this kind of pathetic elation instead of despair and heartache for once.

Your conversation resumed from whichever point you last remember it being left at but after that kiss it only gets more and more flirty, and you like where it is going but soon enough you reach your building and you have to slowly come to a stop with a pout.

“This is me.” You mumble, squeezing his hand in yours but he doesn’t let go.

He hums as if hesitant of believing what you’ve just said and instead he suggests, “Don’t you wanna take another walk around the block?”

“George, my feet hurt.” They had been hurting for a while but you hadn’t said anything just to not ruin things, and because you were enjoying his company so much that you were willing to endure the pain for a while longer.

The drummer comes to a quick solution, “I’ll carry you.”

Which makes you chuckle, “Sure you would.” You genuinely don’t want the date to end so in a bit of a rushed decision, you bargain, “Don’t you… Do you wanna come upstairs?”

He gets a kick of excitement inside him but he wants to play it cool, so he jokes, “What, are you gonna take my picture?”

You hold back a snort of laughter, and shrug as if it was fine by you that he only wanted that. “If that’s what you want.” There’s a little voice in your head that tells you not to but there is another one that purely encourages you to have fun.

“Yeah, that works.” George casually says, like he isn’t praying that he gets lucky to even get another kiss out of you.

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“Where’d you want me?” George turns to look at you as you drop your camera on your bedside tables and take your jacket off to perch on the back of a loveseat you have in the corner of your room.

You take one of the new rolls out of your pocket and change it for the one you’d almost fully used earlier that day. “Wherever you’re comfortable.” you tell him, focusing on perfectly lining the roll before you can turn to him.

“Bed’s quite comfy.'' You hear George say from behind you and when you look up to see him, you find him lying on his side, head perched on his hand and a smirk on his face. “Paint me like one of your french girls.” He teases, resting his other hand dramatically on his forehead.

All you do is giggle at his antics, “You’re such an idiot.” Shaking your head, you come up to the bed and try looking at the scene through your lenses but you aren't quite convinced by the shot.

George watches you struggle, stepping backwards and forwards, to the sides before sighing. He reminds you with a soft smile, “I’m not used to being the one to pose for the camera. You’re gonna have to guide me.”

“Okay.” Silently, you think about it as you bite on your thumb and once a vision comes to your mind, you start instructing him, “Lean into your forearms, sideways so you fit in the bed.” But you find what’s bothering you and it’s that his legs are half hanging off the bed.

“Why are you so tall? Oh my god.” You go over to the drummer and prompt him to go further into the bed, perching one of his sock-clad feet up on the bed and the other leg staying stretched on the bed. “There, now look at me.”

George looks at you with a blank face first to which you complain about but when he actually shows you a smile he starts giggling, and if there had been something you had learned about George quite early into your date was that his laugh was incredibly contagious, so you find yourself shaking with laughter as you try to take his pictures and you end up having to call him out for it.

“Don’t laugh! You’re making me laugh!” You scorn him, struggling to sound serious between your giggles.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes halfheartedly, swallowing his laughter until he goes back to a stoic face and he gives you the perfect soft smolder.

You hum in satisfaction at the result of that frame and then you move onto instructing him to do the next pose, “Throw your head back a bit and close your eyes.” He silently listens and does as you say which earns him a sweet, “Just like that.” from you.

Of course, your words make George give you a look, one that had you lightly blushing and since you know he can recognize the way you get flustered, you hide behind your camera.

“What?” You say behind the device, inquiry thrown out into the air, and warn him, “Don’t look at me like that.”

George chuckles to himself, wondering if you are this naive or if you are playing dumb. So when you take another picture of him, he purposely complains, “My leg’s cramping.” to then throw himself back on the bed, ending up completely splayed over the duvet and breaking the pose.

“George!” You scold him yet again, a bit of amusement sneaking through your words.

He groans in response and without moving, tells you to “Just take a picture like this.”

You kiss your teeth to exaggerate your disapproval and shake your head, “I can’t even see your face.”

“Come here so you can see it.” He resolves easily for you, waving you over to come close to the side of the bed instead of taking pictures by the end of it. You roll your eyes at him in amusement, not moving at first but since he actually doesn’t plan on moving, you have to do as he says.

But attempting to get a picture from above while standing beside the bed is an actual failure, “That’s an awkward angle, look at me.” You try to get him to turn to his side again but he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Need you on your side.” You say explicitly this time but he doesn’t let up either.

Instead he suggests, “Why don’t you just get up here?” He pats the bed, right next to his hip and you blush just thinking about it. At your silence, he opens his eyes and turns his head to the side to encourage you with a “C’mon.”

He offers his hand so you can use it as leverage to kneel on the bed on each side of his hips and hover above him. You struggle as you do so because you’re growing nervous and therefore clumsy.

“Fucking hell, George.” You curse under your breath, seeing him from above is an angle that you don’t really know if you can handle.

“What?” George bites his bottom lip to not let a smirk break on his face.

Yet, not even that keeps you from knowing that he knows just what he was doing but you won’t say anything, because you’re enjoying this a lot more than you are supposed to. So you stick to just replying, “Nothing.” as you take yet another picture of him.

Remembering his tattoos, you bit your bottom lip for a few seconds before hesitatingly asking, “Why don’t you take your jacket off?”

George lets his hands rest right above your knees and squeezes your legs as he teases, “Is that code for something?”

You hoped your flustered state wasn’t obvious so you can play off your nonchalant, “For ‘I want to see your tattoos’, yes.”

It goes right over his head though, because he keeps smirking as he sarcastically replies, “Right, right.”

You move so he can take the piece of clothing off without you hovering over him but when he’s done and laying on the bed again, he pats his right side so you can move your left leg there and have you hover over him properly again.

“How’s that look?” He asks cheekily as his hands go to touch your legs again, the skin up to your mid thighs showing because your dress slit allows it to open and rise up in the position you’re in.

“Amazing.” You breathlessly compliment, making him raise an eyebrow at you.

The shutter goes off again and, as you roll the film, he tests the waters, “Do you want to see them all?”

“Sure.” The word comes out so soft it could’ve gone with the wind, his hands leave your thighs for a second to grab the bottom of his shirt.

“Top’s coming off next then, is that alright?” He asks for confirmation first and you nod eagerly, your pupils dilating in anticipation.

He sheds himself off his shirt in the constricted space he had, you’re so spaced out that you don’t move but it isn’t a problem for George. If anything, his smirk grows at your inability to act and it gets bigger when he throws his shirt somewhere across the room and you’re left shamelessly gawking at his naked top half.

After a minute of your eyes wandering everywhere, George brings your back to reality by letting his hands come over your thighs again. You tremble at the same time as the drummer says, “Y/N/N?”

“Yeah?” You ask, slowly coming back to reality. Your brain has been completely taken over by the view of the taut muscles of his arms littered by colorful ink, a pair of symmetric ‘broken’ tattoos on both sides of his collarbones and his torso beautifully chiseled with a defined six pack.

“When are you taking the picture?” He reminds you, trying not to smirk too hard as to not put you off.

“Shit, sorry.” You say under your breath and, after quickly focusing the shot, finally take a picture of him like that.

There was a heavy silence that hung over you two, the trail of his fingers making your skin grow hot and your throat going dry at the growing need for anything at all. So you find yourself surprised when he breaks the silence to ask you, “Can I take your picture?”

“Mine?” You repeated like you’d heard wrong.

George nods and lets you know, “You look really pretty from here.”

In a feeble attempt not to have him do that, you remind him, “You don’t know how to.”

“Matty had a film camera a few years ago, I know how to.” George surprises you even further when he explains and just to try a bit harder, he pouts at you and says, almost begging, “Please?”

“Okay.” You let yourself accept, your mind too distracted by the view beneath you to even fight.

Once you hand him the camera, he lifts it up to his eyes and lets out a chipper, “Smile.” as an instruction, which you follow only just a bit shyly.

You’re about to get the device back from him when he pulls it away from your grasp and pleads, “Another one please?”

You sigh at the drummer’s exaggerated pout until it turns into a giggle and that’s when the shutter goes off. Your cheeks burn again when he compliments as he rolls the film, “Stunning.”

Letting the camera rest beside him, George tries his luck and lets his hands rub on the skin of your thighs a bit further up. You don’t refuse it, he can clearly see the growing hunger in your eyes as you look down at him so he continues, letting his gaze trail down your body to drink in all of your but when he reaches down to your legs is when he catches a slight glimpse of red ink on your left thigh that makes him ask, “Do you have more tattoos?”

He doesn’t remember your mentioning any other tattoos than the ones you’d shown him at the restaurant. So when you nod, he can’t help but ask, “Where?”

“One, right here.” You grab his right hand so he can touch over the fabric of your dress where the one on your rib is. Your eyes looking right into his and his lips opening further when you continue, “And this one here.” lifting the fabric up to show the ‘Divine Feminine’ tattoo on your thigh.

George lets his right hand fall until it reaches the one on your thigh, you’re still clutching the satin in your first so he can fully see it. He rubs on the red ink on your skin as he stares at it, eliciting goosebumps to break on your entire body.

He looks up and asks with a low voice about the only one he hasn’t seen yet but you had just let him touch over your dress, “What’s the other one?”

“A word.” You vaguely say, as if encouraging him to continue asking about it.

“Which word?” His fingers trail further up, making your knees go completely weak. They had been hurting from hovering over him for so long but his touch is the thing to finally have you finally sit on his lap.

And that’s when you feel him growing hard in his jeans.

His fingers had already been making your every thought go straight down to your core so you’re entirely driven by lust when you fully lift the satin up and shed the dress off your body, leaving you only in your underwear and in full show for George.

It’s involuntary, his hips jerking forward and pressing on your center, his mouth agape at the sight and he grows even more breathless when you roll your center against his hardening cock.

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath, taking one quick look at the strange word on your rib before perching himself up on his left forearm to wrap his right hand around your neck and pull you in for a hungry kiss.

You lean further into him, one arm wrapping around his shoulders and digging into his hair to pull on it as your lips move with each other. Your fingers tugging on his hair made him groan into your mouth and, as payback, he tightens his fingers around your neck, earning a loud moan out of you.

George pushes himself up with his left hand until he’s sitting on the bed, his right arm wrapping around your waist to keep you flush against him. Your tongues taste each other and your breaths grow heavy when you start rolling your hips in sync, meeting in the middle and creating a delicious friction that soon enough forces you to break the kiss only to gasp in pleasure into each other's mouths.

His fingers come to graze the ink on your left rib, your desperate side having you sink your hips down to roll against him and turn his, “What does it mean?” into a gorgeous moan.

Your lips brush as he moans and you respond to his sound with a mewl of your own and when that reaches his ears, George forgets ever asking anything for he can’t wait any longer to feel your lips on his again.

The kiss grows needy then. His hand goes from your ribs down to knead the flesh of your ass, fingers harshly digging into your skin and encouraging you to move against him. Your clit was getting so stimulated from only being covered by the thin material of your lace thong against his jeans which means you can’t kiss him any longer.

A string of moans falls from you as you quicken your pace, getting louder as you go but your actions are interrupted when George clutches you tightly by your middle and swiftly flips the two of you around so it you’re resting on your back on the bed with him hovering right over you.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden change of positions, your hand flying to cup his face and bring his lips back on yours and wrapping your legs around his waist to pull his hips into your core in a desperate attempt to have the friction back.

The feeling of his hard on coming down to rub harshly against you every time he bucks his hips forward makes your head spin. He starts off by teasing you with the friction and leaving you hanging for a few seconds before going back in but when you start gasping into his mouth, he keeps himself close to you and relentlessly rolls his hips on yours, hard cock pressing deliciously against your throbbing clit.

The pace grows faster, making it impossible for you to continue moving your lips with his so he takes it as a sign to continue on with what he wants to do first. Unfortunately, that means his hips stop moving and leave you throbbing and clenching around nothing but he makes it up to you with his lips all over your skin.

Wet kisses trail down your neck, his lips taking their time to give every bit of your skin attention on the way down. Kissing, sucking, licking. His fingers run down your sides until they clutch tightly on your hips, fingers pressing hard on the skin there and making your cry out in pleasure even louder.

Your breath is heavy by the time he stops sucking bruises all over your chest and abdomen, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging on it so he can come back up but instead his tongue runs flat from just above your belly button agonizingly slowly up until his nose bumps against the hem of your bra.

George looks up at you through his lashes, teeth coming to bite on the fabric and tugging them the slightest bit down so you know what he wants to do and you desperately nod.

Without much of a proper attempt to take the piece of clothing off, he just tugs down the lace cups on it and lets your tits spill out freely for him. He groans from the pits of his chest at the sight, hips bucking forwards into the mattress harshly in search of some relief for himself.

But not letting any more seconds go by, George dives to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. Groaning around it, the vibrations of the noise causing white heat to run straight down to your throbbing wet cunt.

He switches the sucking for flicking it with his tongue, blowing cold air and smirking as your nipple hardens at his actions, ending with a soft bite and tug that have you loudly saying his name in call for mercy.

You needed something, anything. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing and it’s almost torturous. But your cries fall on deaf ears for he moves onto your other nipple and repeats his process. You’re only ruining your underwear further, so wet you feel uncomfortably sticky with your thong still on.

“George, baby, please–” You plead in anguish when he starts sucking bruises on your tits, biting them until you whimper loudly under him.

“What do you need Y/N/N?” He asks sweetly, a stark contrast to his vicious attack on your chest.

“Anything. Just–” You try to say, your words catching up in your throat as your desperation for release clouds your logic and makes you sound stupid.

So you rely on grabbing one of his hands from your hips and guiding it down to where you’re aching. The simple graze of one of his fingertips on your swollen clit eliciting a pathetic mewl out of you.

“Oh sweetheart,” George tuts “Made quite a mess, haven’t you?” His pointer finger runs up and down your clothed core slowly and so faintly you don’t even know if you are imagining it.

Applying a bit more pressure assures him to hear every one of your needy sounds and feeling like you had waited enough, he leaves a light feather kiss over your center.

“Need help cleaning up this mess, yeah?” His words are sweet, like he’s finally taking pity on you. The thought of him doing absolutely anything at that moment sounds so fucking good your hum in agreement sounds more like a whine, barely able to make eye contact with him in your hazy mind.

His long tongue runs flat over your underwear, wetting even more than it already is and he moans at the taste of your slick soaking through it. His fingers tug the fabric down your legs and throw it somewhere behind him in record time. He finds himself almost drooling at the sight of you completely exposed to him.

If you had any hint of inhibitions left in you, you would’ve tried to close your legs under his attentive gaze but he’s entranced and you’d had it with waiting any longer so you prop your legs wide open and squirm in your place.

“George, please.”

Your pleading is so sweet, so desperate, he can’t deny you any longer. So he dips his head in between your legs and starts lapping at you like a starved man. At the first proper taste he has of you, he moans loudly, tongue running up and down your slit to gather as much of you as he can and enjoying every drop of your arousal on his tongue.

“Are you not gonna continue taking my picture?” George interrupts his task to tauntingly ask, going back to using his tongue on you, this time flicking it up and down quickly on your clit and making you shiver.

Your words are caught in your throat when he doesn’t relent his actions but still looks at you expectantly through his lashes, “Right– F-fuck! Right now?”

He only allows himself to stop for the amount of seconds it takes him to nod and say, “Yes baby, be a good girl and take my picture.”

That ‘good girl’ makes you roll your eyes in utter pleasure, and all you can think of is doing as he’s telling you to earn his praise; because you want more, you need more.

Your head turns quickly to see where he’s left the camera, and you bring it to your eyes to take a picture as fast as you can. Your thoughts are already becoming clouded by the tightening coil in your lower belly.

His disheveled dirty blonde hair in between your legs, his arms underneath your legs and hands clutching your thighs in place is all that you captured in that frame. The shutter goes off letting George know you have done as he’d said and he congratulates you by praising you with a proud, “Such a good fucking girl.” and a few kisses to your clit which make you jolt.

He goes back down, trying to clean up the mess of slick and saliva that’s dripping down your inner thighs and onto the duvet, but you’re so desperate so you start rocking your hips against his face, trying to steer him back to where you wanted him to be and, to your satisfaction, he follows the silent instruction by going back to your center and this time pointing his tongue and dipping it inside your sopping hole.

Your legs instinctively close around his head, eliciting a breathy laugh from him that hits your core as he continues tongue fucking you. His hands come to spread your legs open again, holding your limbs down on the bed strongly, not allowing you to move any longer.

The feeling of his wet tongue dipping in and out of you has you growing increasingly louder, begging and pleading with him not to stop, your orgasm so close you can feel it.

But despite your words, he stops.

At that very moment, you swear you can cry, knowing you had just been about to come undone on his tongue. But just before you can pathetically let your frustrated tears roll down your cheeks, his lips wrap around your throbbing clit and he sucks on it. The perfect amount of pressure for you to thrash around beneath him as your pleasure resumes and hits you with an incredible force, making you let out a string of moans of his name and then a bunch of “Yes! Fuck yes!”, hands flying down to tangle your fingers in his hair and keep him in his place.

“I’m gonna cum!” You yell out loud, eyes shutting tightly since the pleasure impedes you from keeping them open, and when George starts humming as he sucks your clit, you are done for.

Your legs tremble under his hold, toes curling and your fingers tugging his hair tighter than you had been before. You black out as your orgasm hits you hard, the oxygen in your lungs leaving you entirely as your back arches off the bed and you only come back from your high when his incessant sucking becomes too much for your oversensitive self so you pull him away from you.

He giggles, completely entranced by your fucked out state. Watching you cum had been an experience but god don’t you look beautiful with your chest heaving, bruises looming on your skin, a flush to your face and chest, a thin coat of sweat making your body and face shine.

But before he can give you any more attention, his gaze falls back to your cunt and it’s glistening with arousal. You taste so fucking good to him that he wastes no more time to lick you clean. Your legs tremble at the resumed contact of his tongue on your sensitive core, whimpers stubbornly leaving you as he goes.

Your fingers leave his hair alone but your left hand cradles his head as he laps up at everything you have given him, and after a whole minute of him meticulously licking clean every inch of skin that had been wet with your arousal, he starts a trail of kisses from your mound until he reaches your belly button.

Flashing a smile up at you, George rests his chin on your lower stomach and you can’t hold yourself back from brushing his messy hair back almost adoringly, post orgasm haze making you extra appreciative of him and his skilled tongue work.

His fingers rub circles on the top of your thighs, “Feel good?” He asks before leaving more soft kisses on your lower stomach.

“Very.” You answered with a smile, fingers brushing through his hair.

He hums at the feeling of your touch, “Good to know, gorgeous.”

Turning to see where you’d left it, you reach out to grab your discarded camera. Melting into the duvet under George’s gentle touch and his lips pressing on your skin leisurely, you really make an effort as you lean on your forearms so that you can get a better look at him to take a picture. He looks up at you with a dizzying smirk that you manage to capture, and you know that you’ll adore that picture no matter the outcome of this day.

His lips tickle the skin of your lower stomach when he points out, “Didn’t even have to tell you this time.”

Putting the device back down on the bed, you shrug with a grin sneaking onto your lips, “You look good.”

“Do I, now?” He teases, dropping his hands from your thighs and pressing them on the mattress so he can slowly push himself up and crawl his way up to hover over you again.

“You always do.” Your words come laced with lust, his eyes darkening as he gets closer and you just can’t wait any longer to have him in more ways. “Come here.” You instruct by wrapping a hand around his neck, fingers pressing on the sides of it until he groans loudly in pleasure and when he lets the sound leave his lips, you smirk and warn, “My turn.”

Pulling him in by his neck means that your tongues meet instantly when you start the kiss, and when you taste yourself on his tongue, you moan so loudly George growls just as loud in response.

The kiss is all teeth clashing, spit dribbling down to your chins, noses bumping, deep exhales sounding loudly and trying to overpower the sounds of your swollen lips moving together.

It’s George the one to grow louder when your hand drops from his neck, down his naked torso to the button of his jeans, which you undo with quick fingers and pull the zip down before you can palm him over the fabric of his boxers.

“F-fuck…” He lets out when your nimble fingers squeeze him and stroke him up and down. He’s so hard that your touch makes him shiver.

You can feel him so swollen and heavy under your hand, your mind already spinning about how big he is but you want to have him unravel under you so badly, you push any worries about his size to the back of your head.

His hips move slowly, helping with your movements, clearly wanting to reach his high but you want to taste him and you want it now. So you leave his cock alone to instruct him, “Lay down, baby.”

You switch positions, George laying on his back and you’re kneeling between his legs. He pants as he watches you shamelessly gawk at him, your mouth going dry at the clear outline of his cock.

“Fucking hell, George.” You curse as you tug on the top of his jeans so he can lift his hips up for you to take them off him.

He does as instructed and you’re just too impatient to wait any more, you want to feel him heavy on your tongue already. His boxers come off quickly after his jeans, his hard cock springing up to touch right by his navel.

You gulp. He’s thick, angry red tip already leaking from how aroused he is. Intimidating but so inviting.

Dipping your head down, you start kissing his hips. Leaving kisses that go from sweet to wet and messy the more he squirmed under you.

“You…” George pleads, hand coming down to cradle your head. Not to push it towards where he wanted you but to have you look up at him and see just how fucking desperate he is for you.

You feel that look go down straight to your core, clenching your legs together at the feeling. “I know baby, I know.” You say in a coo.

Your fingers wrap around him, the pressure of them making George huff in pleasure with his lips pressed together. He feels so heavy in your hand, veins popping for you to see how pained he is.

“You’re so big.” You trail off, a bit of wander in your voice. You have no idea how he’s going to fit in your mouth, he’s by far the biggest cock you have ever come across but you like a challenge.

Your tongue licks a bold strip from base to tip, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you taste the salty arousal that has already been leaking from him. He curses under his breath at the feeling of your wet tongue on his cock, but the breathy words turn into a loud moan when you wrap your lips around him and sink your mouth down onto him.

Barely able to fit half of him in your mouth until he hits the back of your throat, you pull back to catch a breath, your hand taking over for a few seconds as you inhale deeply and go back in. You gag around him when you manage to get him deeper, George moans loudly as you do so, trying his hardest not to buck his hips upwards into your tight throat.

His hand goes back to hold your head but this time, his fingers tangle in your hair, only to pull you up so you can breathe. But you don’t want to have it easy, you want to see how much of him you can take and hear every one of his pretty moans.

So you go against his hold, sinking your mouth further down and gagging around him again. Your hand stays at the base of his cock, stroking the rest you can’t get to, as you continue bobbing your head up and down on him.

George is a mess of groans and moans, whimpering whenever you gag and moan around him, your throat tightening around him driving him insane.

He lifts his head up slightly to look down at you, pulling on your hair so you come off him and meet his eyes. George is met with you panting, pink wet swollen lips, saliva dripping down your chin and neck, tears falling out of the corner of your eyes, hair disheveled but pupils dilated and a satisfied smirk at it all.

Your hand keep stroking him up and down, fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure and he moans at the combination of your touch and the glorious view of you like this, “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect.”

The praise only encourages you more, so you lean back down and lick a strip up his cock again, this time looking up at him through your lashes. An innocent look in your eyes as you lap at the tip of his cock eagerly.

He exhales in awe, “Look at you– Shit!” He curses loudly when you sink slowly back down until again he reaches your throat, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily and making you gag loudly.

You gasp out for air for a mere second before you do it again, until you manage to control your gagging a bit better and encourage George to fuck your mouth with a simple squeeze to his hip.

“Oh fuck– Such a pretty filthy girl.” He praises as he obeys the silent instructions and rocks his hips forwards slowly and ever so slightly. “You like it when I fuck your throat?” His question is thrown out into the air in between groans.

You answer with a hum that vibrates around him and that’s when George starts feeling like he’s losing control. His hips grow erratic and you notice so you hum and moan around him even more, causing him to get closer to his high.

“Y/N/N m’gonna cum!” He warns you loudly, the wet squelching sounds of him going in and out of your mouth and your moans bouncing off the walls in a pornographic symphony that makes the scene even better.

And when your hand drops from around the base of his cock to play with his balls, he’s sent over the edge. He pushes his hips forwards and stills then as he comes, cock twitching in your mouth and his cum coating the walls of your throat with a warmth you appreciated with another low moan.

His hips fall back on the bed but you don’t relent just yet, sucking him off for a little longer to take everything you can. But he has to pull you off him by your hair when he can't take it anymore, cursing and calling out your name like he was scolding you.

“Fucking hell.” He mumbles, still dizzy from his orgasm but completely entranced by the way you come off him with a whimper and a satisfied smirk.

You wipe the drool off your chin with the back of your hand and slowly crawl up until you are laying on your side right beside him, staring right into his eyes with hunger still darkening yours.

“Feel good?” You ask, just what he’d asked you after he made you cum but in a mocking manner.

It gets you a chuckle in response before one of his big hands comes to cup your jaw and crashes your lips together.

Kissing George has you dazed. His lips are soft but firm when moving along with yours, they’re wet and swollen, warm exhales leaving his parted lips for your to swallow, tongue peeking through them to meet yours. He whimpers so loud when he tastes himself on your tongue, fingers digging into your cheek and making you mewl in response.

Your skin grows hot the more you kiss. He doesn’t even let you get a proper breath whenever he pulls back for a brief second, because he’s back on your mouth with desperation—lips smacking and tongues licking at each other.

Your hands go on a path from his face to his head, the back of his neck, his shoulders, and eventually to his back, nails digging into it when he starts nipping at your bottom lip, at the same time as his right hand drops from your jaw down to pinch your nipples, eliciting gasps out of you.

“George…” You let out in a gasp when he has your nipple pinched and twisted between his thumb and index finger.

He’s smirking right over your parted lips, amused at the way you shiver every time he goes from one nipple to the other. Your nails claw at his back when you feel the electric shocks that his touch gives you travel all the way down to your center, feeling yourself growing wetter and that familiar knot in your lower stomach forming.

His lips slot between yours again, distracting you from his touch going from your tits down to tease your cunt.

With his thumb, George starts rubbing circles on your clit, making you pull back from the kiss with a loud gasp that turns into a cry of pleasure. You could feel yourself throbbing already, and it gets worse when he picks up his pace.

He isn’t going too fast but not slow either, the speed in which his thumb rubs at your clit has you writhing your hips in response, subconsciously trying your best to get closer and closer to your high.

“George! Fuck!” You yell when he slides a finger inside you. It’s thick and long, curling inside you and making you see stars already, half lidded eyes catching him smirking at you and his breaths growing shallow when taking in your reactions.

“You like that?” He asks you teasingly, pecking your lips as your face scrunches up in pleasure.

You manage to hum in response, but he finds that not good enough, so he adds another finger, stretching you out easily and making your back arch as you moan loudly. “Yes! Yes!” You encourage, and when he curls his fingers again, knuckle deep inside your cunt, you felt yourself be completely overcome by pleasure and your words slip past your lips without even thinking of them first, “Oh my– Fuck! George, your fingers feel so fucking good.”

His fingers are slipping in and out of you with ease from how wet you are, your hips erratically moving as he thrusts them inside you to meet him in the middle. “That’s it, cum on them baby.”

The dirty talk has you completely fucked over, “George, I’m so– Fuckkkk!” You can’t help but scream out when he pushes a third finger inside you, feeling completely stuffed with him.

It feels so good how much he’s opening you up, and he’s loving the way whenever he pulls his fingers back your walls push him off so he has to slowly sink his fingers deep inside your cunt again. “I know, I can feel you clenching hard around them.” You’re squeezing his fingers so tight, his throat goes dry just thinking about how good you’re gonna feel milking his cock, “Can’t wait to fill you up and feel how tight you’re around my cock baby.”

You agree, so drunk in pleasure you just want to feel even more of him, “I need you. George, I need–”

But he tuts before you can complete your mumbled sentence, “You’re cumming on my fingers first.” You’re about to cry out like a brat, about to beg for him to stuff you up with his big cock but his words beat yours, “Come on baby, give it to me like the good girl you are.”

His voice is low in your ear, so sultry and inviting you feel it deep in your core and you just can’t say no. Not when you’re gonna earn his praise, those words he says that have you wrapped around his little finger.

So you let go. Your toes curl as his fingers keep pumping in and out of you, hitting that spot perfectly for your to see stars as you come, white heat enveloping you and taking ahold of your entire body as you cum, “Fuck, fuck! Oh– George!”

“That’s it, baby. So fucking stunning.” He encourages, watching his fingers continue to disappear inside your tightening cunt, your legs shaking and your hips moving clumsily to meet his hand. He gets impossibly hard at the sight of it all, biting his bottom lip as he moans.

You gush all over him, slick drenching his hand and dripping down your cunt onto the duvet. He can’t let it go to waste, so he pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean, moaning around them when he tastes you again.

So fucking sweet. He needed more.

You feel his fingers gathering your mess and you manage to peel your eyes open to watch as he sucks it all off his fingers again.

Shamelessly, you just watch as he dips down time and time again until he deems his work of cleaning you up done, the last one being offered out to you and you obey enthusiastically, wrapping your lips around his fingers and sinking your mouth on them to suck them clean the best you can. Your eyes stay on his as you do so, moaning loudly around them while you batted your lashes at him, just fully putting a show on for him.

The view makes George’s cock twitch, a bead of precum leaking from his head. He reaches out behind you for the forgotten camera and when you’re trying to catch your breath, eyes closed in bliss, he takes a picture of you.

Your eyes snap open at the sound of the shutter going off and you look at him all startled like you need an explanation.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” He quickly justifies, lifting the device back up to his eyes and adjusting the focus to take another one as he adds, “All fucked out. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Stop.” You whine when the shutter goes off again, hand coming up to grab at the lenses and forcing him to put it down, “I must look a mess.”

His head shakes in disagreement, tongue swiping at his bottom lip with his eyes drinking you in all over again, “You don’t. You look hot.” Skin glowing due to the thin layer of sweat your activities have caused, lips swollen and wet, your chest heaving and flushed, the gorgeous pattern of every bruise he’s sucked on your skin which are darkening more and more, hair disheveled and splayed over the pillows.

“I’m confiscating this.” It’s the brief ultimatum you give him, grabbing the camera and turning the action on him instead.

You take just one picture of him and he allows it, only to then complain by saying, “You have enough of me.” and taking the camera back.

Rolling your eyes, you fake being annoyed and kiss him quickly before pushing yourself up and off the bed, telling him, “Gonna go to the bathroom.” making a beeline for your wardrobe and getting yourself a new pair of underwear first, adjusting the cups of your bra so they hold your breasts again.

It isn’t longer than five minutes that you take, coming back to him wearing his boxers again and laying over the bedsheets—he’s discarded the duvet and left it a big crumpled knot on the floor by the foot of the bed—, a hand behind his head whilst the other is scrolling on his phone.

His position looks inviting, so you crawl on the bed and sit on his lap with a mischievous smile on your face. You reach out to get the camera he has placed on the bedside table at the same time as he drops his phone there and his hands go up to hold your hips.

“Put your hands behind your head again.” You instruct him softly, almost a mutter that sounds so shy, the corner of his lips tug into a smirk.

You take a picture of him like that and another when he runs a hand through his hair but you stop when his hands come back to grab at your skin, going from your waist until they softly come down to rest at your hips.

With a soft squeeze on your sides, he tilts his head to ask, “Am I allowed to smoke?” to which you nod and get off him to open the windows and get him a cigarette and a lighter.

Getting back on top of him, you place the cigarette between his lips but before you can give him the lighter, you grab the camera again just so you can capture the moment he ignites it alive.

George looks so fucking hot lighting it up: cheeks hollowing ever so slightly, brows furrowing, long fingers that make the lighter look minuscule in his hand, lips pursed around the stick.

You snap away and capture the moment he blows out the smoke upwards, before taking another drag and then blowing it in your direction.

The familiar scent of the tobacco and just how arousing you’re finding it all, impulses you to start moving your hips slowly on him. The sudden movement makes his breath hitch in his throat, causing him to erupt in coughs when the smoke goes up the wrong hole. He had been half hard beneath you when you sat on his lap, so you can’t really hold back from wanting to have him in a new way now.

That’s when you guide his hand to your mouth so he can place the cigarette in between your lips for you to take a drag. His mouth opens agape as you do so, the rolling of your hips only growing more intent and he starts twitching and getting harder in his boxers.

He can feel your heat, the way you’re wetting your underwear and starting to wet his own, the pulsing of your swollen clit. He can see how your nipples grow hard through the lace of your bra, and the way goosebumps rise in your skin as you go. Soft gasps that turn into hush whimpers that he wants so badly to turn into those loud moans of yours that he’s quite enjoying getting drunk on.

“Have you brought a condom?” You ask breathlessly, camera being once again forgotten somewhere on the bed for you to be able to rest your hands on his chest as leverage.

A flip switches inside George, the simple hint of him finally being able to sink himself deep inside you making his blood rush down to his cock.

“Yeah.” He nods eagerly and it’s a relief when you quickly get off him so he can rush to get it, not without going up to your dresser so he can put out the cigarette on the ashtray that’s laid there by your jewelry.

He had thought it was foolish of him to pocket a couple condoms before he left his flat earlier today, fully scorning himself for being so ridiculous as to assume you would want to shag after your date but oh was he glad he had still done it right then.

Condom in hand, George goes back to the bed but not without shedding himself off his boxers first. You bite your bottom lip as you get your bra off to throw it on the floor behind you, seeing him wrap his hand around his length and pump it slowly as he watches you almost naked figure. Your hands go down to your hips so you can quickly tug down your underwear, eagerly taking it off and throwing it on the same spot on the floor you had dropped your bra.

Crawling up to the edge of the bed, you hum as you watch him stroke himself up and down, your mouth watering for another taste of him. So when you get right in front of him, you dip your head down until your mouth is right before his hardening cock and sticking your tongue out, you lick at his head slowly.

He grows heavier on your tongue as you go, twitching in your mouth when you wrap your lips around him again, his head thrown back at the feeling of your wet mouth enclosed around him and sucking him off patiently.

But he has to use an incredible amount of self restraint to pull you off him, a hand delicately coming around your neck to have you let go off his cock with a pop and pull you up to face him.

“I’m fucking you now.”

George isn’t asking, he’s simply informing you and that makes you squirm under his gaze in anticipation. Thighs pressing together and eyes drinking in the way lust makes his behavior change. But you want a bit of control, even if it’s just for him to ruin you.

“Can I ride you?” You ask innocently, puppy eyes that you pray will get your a yes.

You take the way he pulls you in for a messy kiss as one.

In no time he’s laying on his back with his head resting on the pillows, teeth ripping the condom wrapper open while your hand wraps around him, waiting for him to put the latex on. The anticipation grows and hangs in the air like a heavy cloud as George rolls it down his length, sighing at the feeling of it around him.

You catch a glimpse of your camera through the corner of your eye and you can’t help but think there won’t be a better thing than capturing his pure ecstasy in a picture so you grab it before you straddle him again.

You lift the camera up to your eyes with one hand while the other gets ahold of his cock to line him up, rubbing his head on your clit and making yourself gasp at the feeling. You clench around nothing as you do so, and you can already feel yourself drenched.

Even after he’s stretched you out with his fingers, it’s slightly challenging for you to take him when you start sinking onto him.

Your jaw drops in a silent gasp when every inch of him starts stretching you out, eyes watering at the initial sting. Your eyes want to flutter closed at the feeling but you do your best to not let them close entirely so you can capture the way he groans loudly with his head thrown back as you let your cunt swallow him whole.

Breath hitching in your throat, you sink down completely until you can feel him so deep a pathetic cry of pleasure slips past your lips.

You draw your hips up and back down on him slowly, testing the waters on his size and what angle is good for you to feel the best. You’re both a mess of loud moans at the feeling. He’s so big, he’s filling you up in a way you’ve never felt before so your walls are clenching hard around him which has his head spinning.

“You–” George breathes out, hands flying to your hips and clutching them so tightly just to show how bad he’s holding himself back from just thrusting up into you, or better yet just flipping you around and fucking you into the mattress.

“Fuck–, I know. I know.” You say in a high pitch tone. One of your hands falls to rest flat on his chest and use as support, “I– oh, fuck…” You curse as you roll your hips forwards and then backwards this time, making you completely still at the insane sensory overdrive you’re getting from it.

George knows you need a second or two but you stay frozen for longer than he can hold so he pleads, “Baby– Fuck, baby, I need you to move, you’re so tight.”

“Just–” You try to say, rolling your hips again and mewling loudly. George moans back in response, his hands sliding down to your thighs as your head hangs in pleasure.

You establish a slow place, George’s fingers digging into the flesh of your upper thighs grounding you into the moment and allowing you to take another picture. A picture that captures your legs on each sides of his toned chest, his fingers digging into your skin, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps back a moan, the box tattoo on his thumb right next to the red ink of your ‘Divine Feminine’ tattoo on your thigh.

But after you press the shutter on that one, barely being able to clumsily roll the film, you just toss the camera to the side mindlessly and use your new free hand to rest on his chest as well, and the second hand of support helps you start moving your hips faster.

It’s fucking delicious the way he keeps hitting your g-spot from that angle, and when he starts bucking his hips upwards, meeting your in the middle, you can’t hold back the noises you let out. “George, fuck baby! Oh fuckkkk.” You cry out, clit feeling a bit of pressure every time you roll down and hit your pelvis, so you’re fully drunk on pleasure.

His hands run up from your thighs to mercilessly grab your ass, fingers harshly digging into your skin and stinging just in the best way. “Just like that baby. You feel so fucking good.” He praises you with a groan, helping you actually lift your hips up and down on him.

“You’re so– Oh fuck–” You’re so cock drunk, your thoughts are all stupid and leaving you without even being able to finish a sentence.

“Tight little cunt, can barely fit inside you.” George can feel himself meeting the hilt inside you every time, your cries growing in volume the faster the pace gets. “You love it huh, being filled to the brim?”

“Yes, fuck! Yes, I love it, love your cock!” You’re dripping all over him, the noise of the wetness and your skin slapping every time you meet bouncing off the walls and, combined with your moans, makes for a pornographic scene you wish you were recording.

“I know you can go faster. Can you do that for me, baby?” George genuinely can feel himself not lasting any longer with how tight you’re squeezing him.

“I can, I can.” You promise desperately, wanting to be good for him. So you pick up your pace, your hands moving ever so slightly so you can straighten up a bit and when you do so you curse out loud at the new angle, “Ah fuck!”

Your hips grow erratic, your knees helping now when you bounce up and down his cock ever so more intently, enough for you to incessantly gasp in a high pitch every time he hits that spot.

“Such a good girl for me.” His hands stop groping your ass to spank you, making you jolt forward with a loud gasp that turns into a mewl and a whine that tries to pass as a ‘yes’. His cock twitches inside you at that reaction so he does it again and again, feeling your walls flutter around him with every hit, “You're squeezing me so fucking tight, baby. Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Yeah, yes…” You gasp, and if you hadn’t been so adamant on chasing your high, you would’ve noticed George quickly getting the camera and snapping a picture of you riding him. Hair a mess covering up your face but your mouth wide open in a moan, tits bouncing as you ride him, hands on his chest as support.

He’s just about managed to put the camera back down when he feels you squeezing him the tightest and that’s when you finally cum. “George! George! Ge–” You cry out his name like a prayer until it breaks down into a loud moan that tips him over the edge along with your cunt milking him dry into the condom as you sloppily continue to ride him.

“Fuck! Y/N!” George moans loudly, his hands going to your ass again to help you continue as he cums, his cock twitching the more he spurts into the condom, sweet relief making him see stars.

Unable to uphold yourself any longer, you collapse over him, chests heaving in sync as you both come down from your highs. It’s hard catching your breaths when your skin burns from the heat and sticks from the sweat. And George knows you’re rather uncomfortable from the way you groan into him, your fingers lazily trying to brush the hair out of your face but huffing as it sticks to your sweaty forehead.

He brushes your hair back, fingers delicately grazing your face and earning a soft smile and a sigh from you. But then his hold goes down to your hips so he can lift you up and off himself to set you beside him. You whine and pout at the loss of him, feeling so empty after he’s stuffed you to the brim.

You don’t even try to open your eyes, completely spent from your activities and snuggling into the pillows to find some comfort in your post orgasm haze.

George sits up on the edge of your bed and sheds himself off the condom, tying it so he can throw it away, and groaning as he pushes himself off the bed to make his way to the bathroom.

He takes about five minutes there and when he comes back into the room, he smiles, finding a sleepy you struggling to keep your eyes open and smirking at him. He giggles as he walks up to bed and after taking your camera and placing it on one of the bedside tables, he carries your bridal style to take you to the bathroom.

Yes you’re still on cloud nine after that orgasm but you still have a bit of sense in you then so, after thanking him with a kiss, you tell George you’re alright from there and he can wait for you in bed.

You only realize what you’d said as you wash your hands after peeing and you’re cringing just thinking about him being gone once you go back into the room. But you find that he hasn’t left and instead, he’s gone under the bedsheets and is waiting for you to cuddle up to him so you can get some rest.

You giggle like a fool when you get under the sheets and he hooks his arm around your waist to push you flush against him, your back pressed to his chest and he nuzzles into your neck from behind. Your legs tangle together and your breaths sync and slow down as the minutes go by until you succumb to their slumber.

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It’s bright outside when you wake up with the horrendous need to go to the bathroom, one that you’d been sleepily ignoring for a while but that had become too unbearable to endure anymore.

George has his hand around your waist and his leg thrown over yours, effectively keeping you trapped in his hold in bed, so you try to very slowly peel yourself away from him to escape to the toilet.

You’re careful so that you don’t wake him up just yet, but when you manage to get your legs untangled from his, he stirs and grumbles, “Where are you trying to go?” throwing his leg over yours again, his arm wrapping tighter around your waist making you chuckle.

“Bathroom.” You mumble as you try to get away again but he’s stubbornly holding you even tighter to him.

You feel him shake his head as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, a soft “No.” falling in your ears that makes you sigh.

“George.” You say softly to not disrupt the silence in the room, but he doesn’t reply so you try again a little louder this time, “George.” Once again, no response, so you end up whining, “Babyyyy.”

To the nickname he does listen, but his response is just a muttered, “Mhm?”

You turn around in his arms with a bit of struggle, cupping his face and pecking his lips a handful of times so he takes it as enough bribery to listen to you, “Please let me go. I’ll just be a minute.”

George steals one last long peck from you before smiling loopily and nodding, “Okay.”

He lazily retracts his limbs to let you get up freely from the bed, and though he’s fighting his sleep, he manages to peel his eyes open for long enough to watch your naked figure walk away from the bed and into your ensuite.

Keeping track of time is impossible to him when his eyes close again after you leave his line of sight, and he only opens his eyes again when he hears you giggle softly at the sight of him in your bed as you walk back to bed.

“You took longer than a minute.” He points out with his eyes still closed.

You snort and half heartedly apologize, “Sorry, I’m sore.”

His hand comes up to rub at his eyes, and when he does so, he sees the state in which you’ve come back so he frowns and tells you to, “Stop right there.” He sounds so serious, an amused smirk shows on your face because you have no idea what he’s about to say. An accusing finger waves in the air in your direction and he calls you out, “Why are you wearing a robe?”

“Shut up.” You say instantly when hearing that’s what is making him frown, your eyes rolling playfully at him.

“Get that off now.” He instructs but you take another step towards the bed with no intention of taking it off and he grumbles, “Y/N/N…” with a more stern tone that makes you too flustered for this time of day.

“You’re annoying.” You complain with a roll of your eyes, still listening to him and slowly undoing the knot that kept your robe closed, making it a little show as you open it up and let it fall off your body and pool at your feet on the floor.

Of course, George smirks at the sight and he has no shame in looking you up and down with hunger now shining on his sleepy eyes, his cock twitches just by seeing you naked in front of him again. Fuck, you’re stunning.

“Come here gorgeous.” The drummer invites you back into his arms and you don't have to be told twice for you to go back to bed and be the little spoon for him. You’d had such good sleep being completely enveloped in him, heavy limbs acting like a weighted blanket on you and it was utter bliss.

But after seeing you naked again, skin littered with love bites he had left all over your, hair messy and tits perky and bouncing as you walked, George feels the need to show you a bit more of the appreciation he had shown you the day before.

His hand brushes your hair to the side so he can have access to the skin on the back of your neck. Goosebumps breaking on the skin there when he starts pressing open mouthed kisses on it, fingers ghostly running down your back and stopping right on your lower back that had your back arching into him. Your ass grazed his cock every time, making it twitch and start to harden.

In search of friction, he pushes his hips forward and you reciprocate by pressing your ass against him. He keeps his actions going and sets a pace that the two of you keep up, mewling out loud when his hardening cock comes in contact with your cunt, “Hmm, George.”

“Yes, baby?” His lips brush against your skin, a shiver running down your spine and making you shudder, “You’re so fucking beautiful, please let me make you feel good.”

“Yeah…” You nod quickly, it’s a no-brainer. Your breath gets caught in your throat when he pushes his hips forwards again at the same time as you do and the tip of his cock presses on your clit.

“Yes?” He moans in your ear, hand coming around your front to play with your tits, “Can I make you cum again, sweetheart?”

You eagerly nod, swallowing a moan as he pinches your nipple and when he cup your whole tit with one hand, kneading it harshly, your “Please.” came out in the form of a whine.

“Good girl. M’gonna make you feel so good baby, I promise.” His hand continues playing with your tits as you keep grinding on each other. When his cock is hard enough, you feel it come up to rest heavily between his lower stomach and your lower back, and it’s then that he lets his fingers trail down until they hover over your mound and he breathlessly asks, “D’you trust me?”

“Yeah, George…” You’re basically pleading with him to continue, hand coming to clutch his and guide his fingers down to your soaked cunt and when he feels just how wet you are, he groans and pulls away.

“Wait.” George instructs you, leaving you alone on the bed to get a condom. You hear the wrapper rip and him moaning as he puts the condom on, stroking himself up and down a few times before he tugs the sheets off you and turns you from your side to your front so you’re face down and he can hover over you from behind.

His knees are on either side of your hips, forearms pressed on the mattress next to your shoulders and he kisses and sucks all over your back as he praises you for how gorgeous you are over and over.

He keeps bruising you up until you push your ass up and beg him to do something, the ache in your cunt too unbearable.

So George lets go of the patch of skin he’s bruising and does as you ask for, spreading your legs open as he kneels in between them and rubs his tip up and down your slit.

“Don’t tease, please.” You cry into the mattress, your cunt fluttering around nothing and it’s painful knowing just how good he felt inside you but he isn’t allowing you to feel it yet.

But then he just let himself slowly slip inside you and his jaw falls at your tightness in that angle, “Oh Y/N/N… Fuck me.” He feels like he can barely fit in, but you’re dripping with slick so it makes it a bit easier for him to slowly bottom out.

“George–” You choke out, head turning to the side to catch a glimpse of him. Your fingers clawing at the sheets beside your head for dear life.

“I know. You’re so tight.” He whimpers in pleasure, barely able to move an inch out of you because you’re so snug it feels like you’re pushing him out.

“Move baby, please.” You beg again and he starts going then, a slow pace at first that grows in speed rather quickly and has your cursing out loud, “Fuckkkkk!”

He gasps into your ear with every thrust, and it’s soon that the sound of your skin slapping drowns the room along with your moans. “Gonna miss this tight little cunt so much.” He says into your neck, sucking a bruise on the back of it before asking, “Gonna miss me too?”

“Ye– Yes! Oh shit baby!” You gasp when he hooks his left arm under your leg, pulling it upwards slowly and allowing you to stretch a bit more so you feel him even deeper, “Gonna miss you so much!”

He chuckles smugly, “I know you will.”

“Oh fuck!” You curse as he hits your g-spot perfectly from that angle, his hips hitting your ass and reminding you of how sore the skin there is from the spanking he gave you the night before. “Yes, yes! Don’t stop, please!”

“If you could only see yourself right now!” He curses under his breath when he looks down to see himself disappear into your cunt, over and over. If he keeps looking at how he keeps sliding in and out of you so easily, he will burst right then so he looks back up to your face and praises you once more, “Taking me so well, baby. You’re such a good girl.”

“Harder, please.” You ask in a whine, and he stills for just a second to get a better standing on his knees before giving it to you like you were begging to, making you instantly get even louder when he hits that sweet spot with more intensity, “Oh my– Fuck! Right there, yes!”

“Just like that, yeah?” His smirk grows on his face, feeling how it keeps getting easier to slide inside you which means you’re fucking drenched and dripping all over him, your walls fluttering around him already making him see stars.

“Yes! Yes!” You chant like a broken record, the coil in your lower stomach tightening by the second and threatening to snap at any moment, “I’m so close!”

His left arm lifts your leg even higher and then leaves it there to be able to bring his fingers down to rub at your clit and send you over the edge, “C’mon baby, cum for me sweetheart!” He encourages you as he rubs fast circles on your throbbing clit, which earns him choked out moans that turn into a throat ripping moan of, “F-fuckkkk! George!”

George feels you squeeze him so tightly as you cum, making it so much harder for him to continue thrusting in and out without losing the rhythm he’s set, he can’t hold it any longer, his hips stuttering as he cums and stilling as he spills his seed in the condom, “Ah shit! Y/N!”

His thrusts become sloppy and messy as he tries to ride out your highs while you spasm around him, whimpering as the aftershocks of your orgasm have your legs trembling under him and your white knuckle grip on the sheets falters.

Letting his weight fall over you almost entirely, George sighs in complete bliss and he kisses the back of your head and your cheek multiple times to say, “Did so good for me, sweetheart.” He drops a kiss on your lips and praises you once more, “My good pretty girl.”

The way he speaks to you makes your stomach flutter, and he feels it when you clench around him. “You like that huh?” He teases with a smirk, his nose brushing up your neck until he comes up to your ear and bites your earlobe to which you mewl in response.

He pulls out, hearing you whine when you feel upsettingly empty again but he rubs circles on your hips soothingly and asks, “Shall we go take a shower? Do you want me to help you up?”

You barely manage to reply with a quiet, “Mhm…” when a loud ringing snaps the two of you out of your wonderful post orgasm bubble.

You don’t really recognize the ringing so you figure it’s George’s phone. Yet, the drummer doesn’t make an attempt to go and get it, as he flops beside you in bed for a second before pushing himself off the bed and sheds himself off the condom you just used.

He gets up to discard it in the bathroom and just as he crosses the threshold of the ensuite, he hears his phone start ringing again. He fully ignores it again, taking his time in the bathroom until he hears you call out for him to pick up the unrelenting calls.

A grunt leaves his lips when he comes back to the room and picks up the phone only to read his sister’s name on the screen so he answers with a meek, “Y’alright?” to let her know he isn’t in the mood for the constant ringing.

You hear pure silence surrounding you for a good half minute before George sighs out an annoyed, “Fucks sake.” Opening your eyes to see him, you move onto your side to watch him as he speaks. “Right now? Really?” He asks, entirely unamused. “Yeah, really busy actually.” He says sternly, looking at you naked in front of him with wide eyes. That makes you purse your lips not to laugh but what gets the giggles out of you is when he sighs loudly and mutters, “I hate you.” to whoever it is on the phone.

It’s barely another half minute that he listens to whoever is on the other side, before he ends the call with an impatient, “Yeah, yeah. Sure. See ya’.”

“What’s wrong?” You ask curiously, your fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

George rolls his eyes at the situation, “My sister needs me for something. She says it’s urgent but I doubt it.” He shrugs then, ignoring the importance of whatever it was his sister needed him for, he had only been half listening really. “I can stay though, it wouldn’t be the first time I ignore her.”

That has you snorting in laughter, “Go, you idiot.”

“But–” He tries to argue as he comes to hover over you, head dipping to steal a kiss out of you which you break after a few seconds by pushing his shoulders softly so you can reassure him it’s fine. After all, you had really enjoyed yourself so you’re genuinely considering another date with him.

“It’s okay. I had the best time with you, and that’s all I wanted.” Your hands come to the back of his head, fingers digging into the hair at the nape of his neck and scratching his scalp softly.

George clicks his tongue and he pouts to joke, “Knew you only wanted me for my body.”

You cackle at his antics and tell him to “Shut up.” only to do it yourself by pulling him into you so you can share one last kiss. It’s sweet but it isn’t soft, your lips moving together with intent as if to prove you need to do it again because it’s just too good.

But you have to stop it before it can turn into something more. You pull on his hair so your lips separate with a smack and, with the sweetest smile and looking at him with doe eyes, you say, “Thank you, George.”

“I had the best time Y/N/N.” He replies wholeheartedly then, agreeing with your previous point.

“Me too.” You nod softly to reiterate, your hands coming back down to cup his jaw, thumbs rubbing circles on his skin.

One last short kiss is all you get in that bed before you both stand up and get dressed. Well, George does, in the same getup as the day before, while you put your robe back on and tie it around yourself slowly as he finishes getting his shoes on.

“I’ll see you soon for a second date, yeah?” He says when you walk him to the door, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“You definitely will.” You assure, knowing you’d be texting him very soon about a second date if he doesn’t text you first about it.

He winks right as he opens the door, stealing one last peck from your lips before walking away. Leaving you with a stupid smile on your face that only gets bigger when you close the door behind you and go back to your room, seeing the mess you had left the bed looking like.

Yes, you were definitely going on a second date with him.

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A/N: What did you think? Hope you lot enjoyed it! Thank you for reading, I'm so excited to see your reactions! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @kennedy-brooke @drinkurkombucha @vinylandcoffeecollection @butyou-callmewhenyourebored

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part thirty-nine

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: it's pretty angsty, this one...

el's thoughts: i hope yall love this as much as i dooo

masterlist

They’d been blessed with a strong wind. Y/N felt it ripple through her hair that Inej took out of its matted braid. The strength of the breeze was a telltale sign of a storm coming.

As soon as they were on deck, Inej turned to Kuwei.

“How long does she have?”

Kuwei had some Kerch, but Y/N had to translate in places. She did it distractedly, her glittering eyes roving over everyone and everything. Nina stepped in to help translate when the Inferni mentally zoned out every few words.

“The high will last one hour, maybe two. It depends how long it takes her body to process a dose of that size.”

“Why can’t she purge it from her body? Couldn’t Nina help her?” Wylan asked, turning to the Heartrender almost desperately.

“It doesn’t work,” said Kuwei. “Even if she could overcome the craving for long enough to start purging it from her body, she’ll lose the ability to push the parem from her system before it’s all gone. You’d need another Corporalnik using parem to accomplish it.”

“What will it do to her?” asked Jesper.

“You’ve seen for yourself,” Nina said bitterly. “We know what’s going to happen.”

Kaz crossed his arms and finally spoke from where he stood beside Y/N. “How will it start?”

“Body aches, chills, no worse than a mild illness,” Kuwei explained.

“Then a kind of hypersensitivity, followed by tremors, and the craving.”

“Do you have more parem?” Matthias asked.

“Yes.”

“Enough to get her back to Ketterdam?” Kaz followed up.

“I won’t take more,” Y/N protested, hooded eyes flickering up to look at Kaz in refusal.

“I have enough to keep you comfortable,” Kuwei said. “But if you take a second dose, there is no hope at all.” He looked to Kaz. “This is her one chance. It’s possible her body will purge enough of it naturally that the addiction won’t set in.”

“And if it does?”

Kuwei held out his hands, part shrug, part apology. “Without a ready supply of the drug, she’ll go mad. With it, her body will simply wear itself out. Do you know the word parem? It’s the name my father gave to the drug. It means ‘without pity’.”

When Nina finished translating, there was a long pause.

“I don’t want to hear any more please,” Y/N said breathlessly. “None of it will change what’s coming.”

She drifted away toward the prow. Kaz watched her go with an aching heart.

Inej sought out Rotty and got him to dig up the wool coats they left behind in favor of their cold weather gear when they’d landed on the northern shore. She found Y/N near the prow, gazing out at the sea.

“One hour, maybe two,” Y/N said without turning.

Inej halted in shock. “You heard me approach?”

“Don’t worry. It wasn’t those silent feet that gave you away. I can feel your body heat and the warmth from your breath.”

“And you knew it was me?”

“Everyone feels so different. I never realized that before… I was barely able to focus on one person’s heat directly.”

Inej joined her at the rail and handed over Y/N’s coat. The Grisha put it on, though the cold didn’t seem to be bothering her. Above them, the stars shone brightly between silver-seeded drifts of cloud.

Y/N was ready for dawn, ready for this long night to be over, and the journey, too. She was surprised to find she was eager to see Ketterdam again. She wanted a mug of too-sweet coffee while she sat in Kaz’s window seat as he worked at his desk. She wanted to hear the rain on the rooftops while she lay in her warm bed at the Slat. There were adventures to come, but they would have to wait until she’d had a hot bath and a clear mind once again.

Y/N buried her face in her coat’s woolen collar and said, “I wish you could feel what I feel. The warmth from everybody on the ship… was overwhelming at first but now it’s comforting. I can pinpoint where everyone is and just knowing that they’re all safe…”

“I can only imagine,” Inej hummed. “I only hope it brings you a sense of peace.”

“I don’t really deserve peace, don’t you think?” Y/N chuckled coarsely. “I nearly burned down a city, and killed more people, and all I did was complete my assignment as a Ravkan soldier. The Phoenix.”

“That’s a horrendous way to look at this. Don’t do that to yourself.” She scolded the Inferni softly. “You’re so much more than a soldier anyway. You’re a friend to all of us here. You’re a Crow from the Barrel. And I think Kaz sees you as more than another soldier or a friend.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm and desperately avoided eye contact with the girl beside her. She knew the Crows weren’t blind to what was going on between herself and Kaz, but no one has had time to address the growing bond. She hasn’t even had the time to mentally process what she was feeling. For the first time in her life, she just let her feelings bloom, but now she had to face the facts and think through it all. It was fun to live in a bubble where it was just the two of them in all these life threatening, world changing events where there feelings had no real effect on their lives.

‘What if their feelings were solely caused by the trauma they were forced to face together?’

“I feel the need to tell you that…” Inej let out a breath. “Kaz isn’t one to deal with feelings and things of the like. But with you- You changed him so much. For the better. I’ve seen it already. You communicate with each other between glances and he’s opened up to you in a way I’ve never seen from him. I would even go as far as to say he loves you.”

Y/N’s wide eyes snapped up to look at Inej.

“I wouldn’t lie to you. I’ve never seen him like this in all the years I’ve known him. Y/N you mean so much to him, more than you think you do. Nina even mentioned how his heart beats faster when you’re around but it’s also more sure of itself. You can’t fake that.”

“I…”

“Just think through it. If you need anything, come find us.” Inej gave her the sweetest smile before she turned on her heel and walked back to the others. But as she walked away, Y/N saw she had another reason to depart. Kaz was standing in the shadows near the mast. He had a heavy coat on and was leaning on his crow’s head cane—he looked almost like himself again.

Kaz murmured a few words to Inej causing her to lean back in surprise. Y/N couldn’t make out the rest of what they said, but she could tell the exchange was slightly tense before the Suli girl let her shoulder slouch for a split second as she made her descent below deck.

“What did you say to Inej?” Y/N asked when he joined her at the rail. She tried to ignore the beginnings of a pounding headache.

“I have a job I need Nina to preform.”

Y/N hummed tiredly as they stood together, gazing out at the waved, silence stretching between them.

“We’re alive,” he said at last.

“Some of us more than others but it seems you prayed to the right god.”

“Or traveled with the right people.”

Y/N shrugged. “Kaz Brekker, are you going soft?” He said nothing and she had to smile. “No sharp retort?”

He ran his gloved thumb over the rail. “No.”

“What’s your plan when we get back?”

“When we’re a few miles out, Rotty and I will row to the harbor in the longboat. We’ll find a runner to get word to Van Eck and make the exchange on Vellgeluk.”

Y/N scrunched her nose as she leaned forward to rest her chin in her palm. The island was popular with slavers and smugglers. “The Council’s choice of yours?”

“Van Eck suggested it.”

Y/N frowned, her eyebrows furrowed in thought as she tried to keep her mind active and awear as she spoke with him. She was proud that she remembered the right island when writing her letter to Nikolai before they made it to the Ice Court. ‘Why would the mercher make a call like this?’ “Why does a mercher know about Vellgeluk?”

“Trade is trade. Maybe Van Eck isn’t quite the upstanding merch he seems.”

They were silent for a while. Finally, she said, “I want to own horses again.”

Kaz’s brows furrowed, and he cast her a surprised glance. “Really? Why?”

“I used to ride with my father when I was young. And during my time at the Little Palace, there was always a horse for me to take out. It was my only way of feeling free, and I’ve grown to miss it. Ravkans breed the best riding horses.”

Kaz hummed and looked back out to the stars. Y/N smiled softly at the side of his face and leaned slightly closer to him, her limbs growing heavy. “But we’ll go home first.”

“We will go to Ravka?” He smiled down at her. A smile that she’s noticed was reserved for her and her alone.

A please flush warmed her cheeks. “No,” she chuckled, her speech slightly slurred now. “We will go to Ketterdam. Home first.”

“You should go rest. The drug will begin taking it’s toll on you.”

Y/N shook her head. “I would really rather not be alone right now.” She watched the gears in his head turn as he thought for a moment.

He held his hand out to her, “I’ll wait with you.”

“Don’t you have plans to prepare for and see through?”

“I can spare a few moments.”

She smiled and took his hand slowly, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted to but he didn’t move. Together, they walked below deck to the large room Kaz had taken ownership of. He brought her to the bed and let her lay down as he pulled the desk chair to the bedside.

Y/N let out a quiet moan as her muscles ached and her bones creaked as she tried to get comfortable under the rough sheets. Her body felt a sudden chill but she could still feel the different body heats through out the ship. Her nose scrunched in discomfort for a short moment before she looked up at Kaz who remained by her side.

No words were exchanged as they stayed in each other’s presence. Y/N silently stared up at Kaz with glossy eyes, admiring the way the light from the oil lamp flickered across his face. Her eyes began to burn and her chest grew heavy.

Kaz turned to her as the sound of her breathing grew labored. An unsettling pit formed in the depths of his stomach, bracing himself for the after-effects of the drug to kick in. “Should I go get Nina or Kuwei?”

He got no response only quiet groans so he decided to just stay at her side.

When the tremors began, she begged him to leave.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” she said, trying to roll on her side.

He brushed the damp hair from her brow with his gloved hand. He hissed quietly as her skin burned him through the leather fabric. “How bad is it.”

“Bad.” But she knew it would only get worse.

“Do you want to try the jurda?” Kuwei had suggested that small doses of regular jurda might help Y/N get through the day.

She shook her head. “I want… I want— Saints, why is it so hot in here?” Then, despite the pain, she tried to sit up as Kaz walked to push open the small circular window. “Don’t give me another dose. Whatever I say, Kaz, no matter how much I beg. I don’t want to be like them, like those Grisha back there.”

Kaz stayed silent for a long minute. “Y/N… Kuwei said the withdrawl could kill you. I won’t let you die.”

She flopped back down, and her whole body rebelled. Her clothes felt like crushed glass against her burning skin. “I would have killed every one of the druskelle.”

“We all carry our sins, Y/N. I need you to live so I can atone for mine.”

“You can do that without me, you know.”

He reached to her open palm and placed his atop of her’s. “I don’t want to.”

“Kaz,” she said, turning their hands over so she can trace the creases of the black fabric. It hurt. Touching his gloved hand burned her fingertips, but she still did it. She might not ever get to again. “I am not sorry.”

He took her hand and laced their fingers gently. She winced, but when he tried to pull away, she clutched him tighter.

“Stay,” she panted. Tears leaked from her eyes. “Stay till the end.”

“And after,” he said.

“I just want to feel safe again. I want to go home.”

“Then I’ll take you there. We’ll set fire to hay bails in the country side just for fun.”

Y/N looked into his eyes with longing. Longing fora normal life, longing for her pain to go away and longing for him. “Kaz…” Her throat was so raw it hurt to speak anymore. “My Crow.” She smiled tiredly anyway.

Kaz didn’t let his eyes stray from her face as her eyes began to close out of pure exhaustion.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Y/N could barely make out Kaz’s facial features through her hooded eyes. She watched his eyes squeeze shut and noticed his breathing become shallow as he placed her hand down on the bed beside her.

“My Saint, don’t go.”

taglist: @katherinereid @littlecat21 @jahayla-parker @maliciousbrekker @brekkershadowsinger @brekkers-desigirl @clunaes @wonderland2425 @bookloverfilmoholic @karensirkobabes @bookworm-center @el-de-phi @so-get-this-sammy @skittleabyss @crispy-croke @cometsghost @auttumnsayshi

[reysdriver]

Hi!

I just found your account and I love your fics <3

I was wondering if you could do a part two to Silence, one where they do talk and Eddie explains he didn't saying anything because he was in shock.

Is that okay? I understand if you don't want to <3 Thank you for your time and ILY <3 <3 <3

Part 2 of Silence; Eddie explains why he didn't say anything last night when you confessed your feelings — eddie x gn!reader angst/fluff

warnings: kinda cringe and rushed lowkey but does that count as a warning?

words: 0.6k

a/n: this is so rushed but it's because I wanted to get part 2 out for you cus you're so sweet omg

The next day at school, you couldn’t think of anything except what happened between you and Eddie the night before. All of your classes, every interaction you had, all the chatter in the hallways; it was all just noise. You could barely understand a word anyone said because you were just too stuck in your own head. 

In the cafeteria, you sat alone in a sea of all that noise. You just couldn’t sit with your friends today, so you just ditched them without saying anything. 

You were almost done eating your bland lunch when someone placed a hand on your shoulder, snapping you away from the noise. 

You turned around to see who it was and immediately wished you didn’t. 

“Can we talk?” Eddie asked. “I want to explain what happened yesterday.”

“We don’t need to talk about it.” You insisted, getting up to throw away the unappetizing rest of your lunch. 

He walked along, following you across the cafeteria. “Yes, we do. Can we just go somewhere private for a few minutes at least?”

You sighed, leaving your tray in the ‘dirty’ pile and starting to walk. “Okay, I just want to repeat that it’s totally okay if you just forget what I said yesterday and pretend that never happened; I encourage it, honestly.”

Eddie led you into the drama room where you meet for Hellfire club and closed the door behind the both of you. 

“But I don’t want to forget it. That’s my point. Would you just let me explain?”

You nodded, not wanting to ruin things more than you already had. 

He took a breath before speaking to compose himself, then started to explain what happened in his van last night. 

“When you said all that last night. I really did want to respond, but I just froze up.” Eddie started. “I was just so focused on keeping us alive and not crashing the car, plus I was in shock and processing how my best friend felt the exact same way about me as I did them.”

That caught you off guard, just as your confession last night did to him. Eddie felt the same way about you? Why did he let you go on thinking he was disgusted by your confession last night? You let him continue, hoping for an answer. 

“I just couldn’t form the words to tell you how I really felt, but once you started thinking that I felt otherwise, I thought it was too late. I imagined you thinking I was just trying to calm you down or something after you got out of the car, so I just kept my mouth shut.”

“But you feel the same way?” You asked hopefully. 

“Of course I do.” Eddie assured you. “How could I not? You’re the best person I know, and I’ve like liked you for a long time too. And that’s why I’ve been kicking myself since you got out of my van last night when I should have pulled over and done this instead.”

He didn’t do anything—other than confuse you—so you asked what he meant by what he just said. 

“Done what?”

“Oh shit.” He blinked. “See? I froze up again. I should have done this.” 

He leaned forward, cupped your face, and kissed you. He kissed you in a way that made you sure he like liked you the same way you like liked him, and you kissed him back.

[cruyuu]

Hi!

My thoughts about what I'm about to point out aren't coherent yet but you're the first person I thought of when it came to me

So Yuuji's still missing his left pinky finger after Sukuna changed vessel and RCT can't fix that because that's a piece of Yuuji's soul that was ripped off

And now I'm following the theory that the finger in the last panel is the one that was imbued in Yuuji from birth that he removed himself through his ring finger

And in my brain it's like 'there's some skit bs going on here' and idk if I'm making sense because I'm not sure of where this is going 😅 but with the left ring finger being associated with engagements and weddings getting rind of the last piece of the other's soul through that finger could be akin to throwing away your wedding ring (the divorce era is real) but maybe they've rotten my brain a bit too much

In any case I'm looking forward to any thoughts you have on this chapter (and thank you for reading my ramblings) <3

Hi there anon!

I love your thought process and the fact that you remembered that! It would be extremely fitting (even if far-fetched for those who are not as insane as we are) because they just big sigh. They just have to act like that and be that way lol. I wouldn't put it past our dear author who delivered a lot on sukuita week no less (that is still some crazy coincidence) to again make something about them both. If not the finger, then the soul connection, if not that then something else. Like Gege definitely didn't need to write Yuuji chasing after his inner demon and spending time with him (hell, saying he was frantic and wanting Sukuna to indulge him), especially not when that same demon is someone who continually kept ruining his life and took the very person Yuuji confessed he feels lonely without, but here we are.

I'm waiting for the official chapter to drop so I can really get the whole picture since leaks are just a tiny piece. Shipping aside, I don't know what to make of that panel with Sukuna's finger. jjk is pretty close to ending now and hence, I am skeptical. I really wish for there to be another arc after Shinjuku because it feels very off to me to end everything in like two more chapters. I'm hoping for more because it still feels like there's more left. Maybe I'm just insane and will be missing this manga a lot which is why I'm sensing that, idk.

Divorce arc has never been realer now and it's lowkey slightly painful to me since Yuuji wanted a compromise. What's very fucking funny still is that Yuuji reached out to him, first and foremost, realized he can't affect him (that sad look in his eyes) and then switched back to his usual response. Meanwhile Sukuna's still pretending he doesn't care even though he indulged Yuuji and spent nearly an entire day with him before he finally snapped when he realized Yuuji was sad about him lol. Still, the vehement anger Sukuna feels is keeping me rather well fed because Sukuna has no business being so against Yuuji saving Megumi. Like why?? He had no trouble being patient and even explaining his viewpoint when Yuuji DE-ed them away and talked about himself, but then the second Yuuji mentioned saving Fushiguro, he's shaking with rage and promising to kill everyone Yuuji loves.

Chapter 265 is literally:

yuuji: spend some time with me

sukuna: ok

yuuji: so here's what i realized

sukuna: why are you telling this to me oh my god i don't care like i understand your point but i don't feel anyth—

yuuji: i want to save fushiguro

sukuna: 😡🤬😡🤬😠😠🤬😡🤬😡😠🤬 (that wasn't meant for me?!?!?!?!)

I am also brain rotting hard about everything. 266 fueled my brain and filled it with one-sided sukuita fic ideas which are just peak angst and I live for angst so yeah. I'll have to get to writing soon because I have a lot of ideas for these two (the writers block is keeping me away from that, as is my slightly limited english vocabulary and real life unfortunately).

Thank you for sending this ask, anon, and also thank you for listening to me ramble about these two as well! <3 I'm more than happy to discuss these two for eternity because they just make me insane.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Gilded Cage (Sternclay)

Tied winners of one of the whumpcember prompt polls were "collared" and "wiping tears away" . This fill is NSFW

The view from the consorts rooms in the castle are stunning. The Veridian Hills and the Stranglewood are visible, shocking emerald giving way to dusky pine. Beyond that, the kingdom of Sylvain, teeming with monsters.

Joseph is watching through one eye as he works on his chess problem. When it gets a little darker, he’ll use this telescope to scan the forest, hoping to glimpse some unknown creature stalking between or hovering above them. 

For the fiftieth time that day, he wishes he could just go down and investigate. 

“Joseph! Come quickly and look!” Elaine, one of the other four consorts, waves him over to where the rest of them are gathering on a balcony. He clusters in beside them as a parade of the king and his knights re-enter the citadel. 

Behind them, chains across his body, around his neck, and binding his arm is an-

“Apeman!” Claudia gasps, stepping back as if the monster might break his chains and bound up the walls to carry them away. 

“They’re just called Sylphs. Those names are the ones we come up with. We used to call that kind ‘Bigfoot’. Honestly I think that has a better ring to it.” Joseph keeps his gaze on the prisoner, “I wonder why they’ve brought him here. We’re not technically at war with Sylvain.”

“Maybe he did something horrible.” Claudia fidgets with her sleeves before scurrying inside.

“You just had to loan her those true crime books” Elaine gives him a pointed look

“His highness wants us to be as worldly as we can manage. From here.”

“I know” she pats his shoulder, “but there might be a thing as too worldly.”

Joseph nods, then turns his eyes back to the procession as he wonders if that’s true. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He has his talking points all prepared, but the king doesn’t need to hear them. He simply smiles

“I knew you would want to go down and see, so I’ve given orders that you be allowed to visit when you wish. Just be careful.”

“I will.”

The king sends him off with a kiss on the hand. He should want more. He does. Just not…

He shakes his head. There’s no point in dwelling on that. 

The dungeon has a few chambers that are stone towers without bars, the only windows high, high, high above. They put him in mind of oubliettes. 

The Sylph is held in one of these. A black collar connects to a chain in the wall, each link thicker than a beer stein. His feet are manacled as well, large hands left free but covered in dried blood, the same color as the marks by gouges in the chains.

There's a circle and glyphs carved in copper into the floor, marking the reach of the creature's chain. Even if he were to break free, the glyphs would activate a stun spell the instant he crossed it. 

The guards asked if he was certain he wanted to go down alone. He insisted, knowing the two small knives he keeps hidden on his person will be enough defense until back-up arrives. 

When the monster turns to regard him, eyes reflecting in the dim lamplight, he begins re-evaluating that belief. 

“What do you want?” The voice is a deep, wary growl, “or are they just gonna let anyone in here to stare at the freakshow?”

“I assure you they won’t.” 

“You sound pretty fucking confident, pretty boy.” He shifts almost  imperceptibly away, “you the prince or something?”

“The king's consort. Or, well, one of them. The point is, I have some influence. Particularly over any guards who might try to make a sideshow out of you.”

The Sylph shifts farther back, but also turns to face him, “Doesn’t explain why you’re down here.”

“I wanted to see you. To…to meet you.” His confidence falters a moment as the sylph snorts and then rises to his feet. 

He didn’t look this big in the courtyard. And not nearly this magnificent. 

His short fur, matted as it is, has a noticeable auburn tint to it. His eyes are deep brown, the whole of his face unfairly handsome and painfully human. 

“Enough of a look for you?” He grins, showing sharp teeth. His fingers twitch, offering a glimpse of short, black claws. 

Joseph keeps his head high, voice calm, “No. To be frank, I’m fascinated by Sylphs. And by your kind in particular. I’ve been reading everything I can on you for years. If you’re open to it I’d like the chance to interview you.”

The bigfoot takes two strides forward, stopping at the edge of the circle while still looming over Joseph, “Fuck. Off.”

He holds his ground, “I didn’t put you here. I’m not sure you should even be here. What I am sure of is that no one gets put in here forever without a trial. And that a consort can have quite an influence on that.”

The Sylph holds up a finger, “One visit.”

Joseph smiles, “Deal.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay is going to go crazy well before they do whatever it is they’re planning to do to him. There’s nothing to look at, nothing to read, he’s paced the perimeter of the cell so much his feet ache. Hidden in the little cordoned off bathroom area when anyone comes down. Given up on snapping his chains. 

That’s why he agreed to let that cute prince interview him. Look, he’s not going to deny the guy is hotter than a broiled pan. He can know that and still hate his guts. 

(That and the way he’d looked at Barclay. Like he was trying to understand him, not just see him).

He picks up the same scent as yesterday; faintly minty over the top of some shampoo whose oils cost more than a small country's treasury. Joseph appears, clothing more formal than before, a coat and suit rather than the soft clothing and robe he wore yesterday, though both had the symbol of the kingdom on the chest. 

(Had he been so excited he ran down to see Barclay in his pajamas?)

Best of all, he’s carrying a tray with a teapot and two mugs. 

“I’m a bit later than I meant to be, his majesty wanted my opinion on the notes of an advisory movie.”

“Not like I’m going anywhere.” Barclay sits up, watches as the human considers the single chair in the corner of the room only to set the tray down and remove his coat so he can sit across from Barclay. He pours the tea, then sets one cup on the end of the tray and pushes it across the edge of the circle. 

“Thanks.” Barclay grunts, determined to not cry in front of some fucking human noble. 

“You’re welcome.” The human tips cream into his cup. 

“Y’know, doing that ruins the subtler flavors.”

A slight, self-depreciating smile, “I know. I’m the same with coffee, I’m sure I’m missing out on some of the depth but I just like it better.”

“Buddy of mine once dumped half a jar of honey into his star poppy tea.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow, “Isn’t that expensive?”

“Yep, because you gotta enchant and also distill the hell outta it to keep it from being poisonous.”

“I read it’s for ceremonial purposes” Joseph sips his tea, blue eyes watching Barclay over the rim.

He chuckles, “Humans just think that because it makes you stoned outta your minds. Doesn’t do that to us.”

“Fascinating. I mean, it makes sense, there are lots of plants in Sylvain that never made it through the stranglewood. According to one of our knights, the climate is very different here, too…”

“You really dragged your cute ass down here just to ask me about gardening?”

Annoyingly, the human doesn’t react to the flirtation. Barclay had hoped he could at least wrong-foot him. Remind him his title doesn’t mean shit to a Sylph. 

“If that’s what you want to talk about. I do have a list of questions” he pulls a small, black notebook from his pants pocket, “but I more wanted to get to know you. Our books are full of many accounts of Sylvain and its residents, but almost none are from Sylphs. The few that are, well, they’re over a century old. Things change.”

“No kidding. Back home you can still see the trade route signs to help humans get around.”

Joseph opens his mouth to ask another question, then clears his throat, “I’m so sorry, I was so excited I forgot my manners. You know my name, but I never asked yours.”

“Barclay.” He could lie, but he wants to hear someone say it, to be called something other than “the beast” or “that thing.”

The human nods, polishing off his tea, “Can I ask about what your home is like?”

Barclay tells him. About the Lodge, the gardens in the back, the way his family elders planted fruit trees that now grow all around town. The human listens, taking notes now and then. At one point he returns up the spiral, stone stairs, to speak to one of the guards. Barclay tenses when he comes back down, wondering if this was some kind of trick.

When a very frightened looking servant appears ten minutes later, he realizes Joseph just sent for a lunch tray. 

“You’re not gonna get in trouble for giving fancy food to a prisoner?” He says it more teasingly than he really means. 

“No. Consorts tend to be…indulged. Odds are anyone who notices will just think I’m being strange and treating you like a pet.” He goes pale, “good lord, I hope that’s not why they captured you; I want to go to Sylvain sometime, not keep one of its citizens like a lapdog.”

“Can think of worse things. If it gets me out of here, I’ll sleep on a pillow by your bed any day. Even let you brush my hair. Already got the collar.”

A glance at the collar and finally Joseph blushes, “The point is, I wish I knew why they’d brought you here.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. One minute I was in the woods, the next I had two dozen crossbows pointed at me and was being told I was trespassing on the king's land.”

“Trespassing. Yes, that’s what they told me too.”

“Careful, blue eyes, don’t let them catch you mistrusting the kingdom.”

Joseph touches the insignia on his chest, “I’m loyal to my kingdom. But I also believe in verifying the truth. Forming my own theories.”

Barclay studies the human in the dying daylight high above them, and wonders if they made Joseph as a consort because he’d be too much trouble as something else. 

—-------------------------------------------------------------

“...mom was laughing too hard to be mad, thought ma was gonna pass out when she saw the jam on the ceiling. Anyway, I wasn’t allowed to try canning for ten more years after that.” Barclay chuckles from the single cushion floor-cot he’s been given, “y’know, blue eyes, you shoulda been a spy. You’re great at getting stories outta people that they wouldn’t normally tell.”

“I almost was.” Joseph is sitting in the chair as close as he can to the glyph circle, “I was just born in the wrong order.”

“Wait really? Humans actually do that?”

“It depends on what class you’re from, but yes. The first born is meant to lead the family name, whatever that means is up to them; be a knight, a priest, a famous scholar, in government, that kind of thing. Third born inherits the family trade if there is one. Second born is put into a political marriage.”

“Seems like you kinda hit it big with that one.”

“But it’s not really a marriage. I can’t take the throne if he dies, I can’t be an advisor, I can’t even travel outside the castle. And once he learned I was a man and, more importantly, did not want to have kids, my one other door into political power was shut.” He manages a charming smile, “maybe it’s for the best. If I’d been allowed more freedom, I might have ended up wandering around Sylvain, too focused on studying everything around me until I fell into a hot spring and drowned or something like that. Or got carried off to be ravished by a sasquatch.”

Were they closer, Barclay would whack him playfully on the arm, “I told you, humans made that up! Sylphs don’t need to carry random humans away to find mates. Most of us find one or more just fine among our own kind. Uh, unless you count back when mothpeople used to randomly carry off sasquatches, but I think that was a territorial thing. Plus it hasn’t happened in, like, fifty years ago.”

“A mothperson can really lift someone your size?” 

Joseph still looks a little dejected, and Barclay can’t have that. Joseph is his friend.

(He could be his mate. He’s seen how the human looks at him, at the quickly schooled but very obvious widening of his eyes when he noticed his cock through his wrap. Had they met in Sylvain, in happier times, Barclay would have asked him to dinner)

“Yeah, it’s wild. My friend Indrid did it to me once because we thought the old stories were bullshit. Startled us both so bad he almost dropped me…”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joseph can’t sleep. This morning, he tried for the fifth time to find out when Barclay would be released, or at least when his trial would be. The king is mildly charmed by his interest, but it’s clearly annoying the minister of defense and the minister of justice. 

Something isn’t right. If Barclay had done something straightforwardly wrong, they’d just tell him. 

He gives up trying to sleep around one in the morning and slips out of the rooms and down the various flights of stairs until he’s to Barclay’s cell. The guards don’t even blink when he passes by; the captain of the guard is a friend, and last week he finally just gave him his own key. 

Halfway down the stairs, he pauses. There’s an odd sound, strangled and raspy, and for a moment he fears Barclay is sick. Then the pieces click into place, and he feels even worse. 

Barclay is crying. 

Cautiously, he comes to the final step. The Sylph’s head whips up from where he’s huddled in the corner. 

“Joseph?”

“Right here.” He hurries to Barclay’s side, “I’m right here, big guy. It’s okay.”

“It’s not!” It’s almost a wail, “Don’t you get it? They’re never going to let me out. I’m going to be here for the rest of my fucking life, I’m never gonna see my friends again, never see the sky or the woods or anything, I just want to go home.”

Joseph kneels, hovering his hands over Barclay’s shoulders a moment, weighing the choices. Then he settles on petting them lightly down his arms, reassuring without trapping Barclay more. He thinks back on the times he’s come in the early morning, bringing breakfast for them both. How Barclay’s eyes red each time. 

“Every night?”

The sylph nods, then looks up slowly, “You…you came into the circle.”

“I know you’re not a fool, Barclay; you know as well as I do that if you hurt me it’ll be bad for both of us. But more than that” he sets his hands on Barclays face, “I trust you.”

Barclay makes a low, soft noise in his throat. It’s affectionate, so Joseph makes it back as best he can, brings his thumbs up to wipe away the remaining tears.

“I’m getting you out of here, come hell or high water. I promise.”

The same noise, and Barclay draws him into his arms, hugging him tight. Joseph holds him close in return, running his fingers through soft, short fur until the Sylph finally falls asleep. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You do realize that if the Sylphs find out we’re holding a civilian without cause, they’ll be within their rights to use force to come get him.”

“They have no rights in our borders.” Minister Hayes says flatly. 

“You must understand, Joseph” the king smiles at him, “we need a few as collateral for they inevitably take one of our own as a captive.”

Joseph opens his mouth to point out the multiple moral and strategic flaws with that plan, but the king stands and begins guiding him out of the room, “We must move on to other matters. I will see you at our dinner tonight.”

He decides it’s best to save his arguments for now, deploy them near more open-minded ministers. And so he bows, and shows himself out of the meeting hall. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The king never stays the night after their evenings together. Joseph doesn’t take it personally anymore. Just like he tries not to mind that he seldom gets off at all when they’re in bed. 

He’s too wound up to sleep, and so he dons his warmest, fur-lined blue robe over his nightshirt, slips on his shoes, and steals his way down into the dungeon. 

Barclay is asleep, so Joseph settles into the (now slightly more comfortable) chair he’s stationed just out of reach of the perimeter of the circle. He’s crossed the boundary plenty this last week, but he must maintain his cover as the curious but cautious consort. 

He shifts his thighs, trying to ignore the lingering ache in his cock for some kind of true attention. Maybe he should have dealt with that before coming down here-

“Hey, blue eyes.” Barclay turns his head to look at him, voice thick with sleep, “everything okay?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I decided I’d rather be down here than tossing and turning in bed.”

Barclay sniffs the air, sits up and peers more closely at him, “Seems like you got up to more than that in bed.”

A strange pang of guilt resonates up his spine, “All part of the job description.”

A deep, teasing laugh, “That bad, huh?”

“It’s not bad exactly. He’s perfectly nice and very complimentary but…well, I don’t think sleeping mainly with people who aren’t allowed to tell him when he’s doing something wrong has done him any favors.”

Barclay is watching him intently, “Y’know, if I had a husband, I’d make real fucking sure he came until he was exhausted” a sharper grin, “that way he couldn’t get away if I still wanted more.”

Joseph’s breath catches without permission.

Barclay growls, gently, “You like that, pretty boy?”

“Yes.” 

“Show me.” He’s sitting back on his heels now, more confident than Joseph’s ever seen him. 

He eases out of his sleep pants, lets his robe fall open as he begins rubbing his folds.

A hungry growl, “Oh, babe, look at you. All wet and hard with no one to pay attention to you.”

“From, ahn, from where I’m sitting I’d say I’m getting plenty.”

“Could give you more. Be so good for you” A slight whine on the end of his words this time, and Joseph suddenly understands the game. 

“Barclay, my lover is a king, I’m not sure anyone could compare.”

“Yeah? Tell me, pretty boy, he ever bend you over the fucking breakfast table because he can’t take not having you for another second?”

“No.” He presses a finger inside, opens his legs wider, and Barclay growls.

“Ever thrown you down on the bed and sucked your dick until you cried?”

“Holyshit” he speeds up his fingers, “no.”

“Spent a whole night figuring out how to make you scream?”

“No, fuck, Barclay-”

“That’s it babe, lemme see just how much you like the idea of being mine.” Barclay tugs his wrap free and a large hand slips between hairy thighs. His cock, intimidating just as an outline, is downright heartstopping now. 

“Could be all yours, you just gotta say the word.” Barclay rumbles, stroking himself lazily. 

He shouldn’t. It’s a violation of both his duties and general common sense. But Barclay is looking at him like he sees him. Barclay’s affection for him has never come with conditions, with gilded bars and unanswered questions. 

“Fuck it.” He stands, pulling his pants fully off and laying them on the chair before crossing into the circle. 

Barclays eyes widen as he does, and by the time he settles in the Sylphs lap they’re big enough for whole worlds to float in them.

“You really-”

“Yes” Joseph kisses him, delighting in the little moan it earns him, “badly.”

“Fuckyes” Strong hands grip his hips, claws digging into his skin, “C’mon, pretty boy, lemme show you what you really deserve.”

“Ohmygod, ohmyfuckinggod” Joseph clings to Barclay’s biceps to avoid falling out of his lap from the force of the thrusts, “Yes, fuckyes, good lord how is it even bigger than it looks.”

“Think it’s more you’re a dainty little human who can only take two thirds of it. In this hole anyway.” He grins when Joseph moans, “bet I can get it all the way into the other two. Could always just force it, think you’d–fuck, move your hips like that again–like that, but it’d be more fun to go slow, build you up to it until you’re begging for the whole fucking thing.”

“Muhuh” Joseph’s face is buried in Barclay’s shoulder in a desperate attempt to muffle himself. 

“Make you cum a few times, really get you relaxed” Barclay reaches one hand between them and Joseph gasps as he begins rubbing his dick, “that’s it babe, let go, wanna see you cum, wanna make you feel good.” He growls as Joseph tips his head back, kissing his neck as the most intense orgasm of his life rolls through him. 

When he comes back to himself, Barclay is panting and holding perfectly still. 

“Cum in me. Please.”

“You sure?” Barclay nuzzles his collarbone, “I know I talk a big game but if you’re sore or sensitive we don’t have to keep going.”

Joseph grabs the collar in shaking fingers and drags Barclay’s face up to his, “If you don’t do as I say, I will take off my contraceptive charm and go find the king.”

“Like hell you will.” Barclay kisses him hard and brings them to the floor, pinning Joseph on his back. He wraps his legs around the sylph and holds tightly to his arms as his body jolts with every thrust. 

“Let’s get one thing straight, babe. If anyone gets to breed you, it’s me. Kings kept me locked up here for months, least he can do is let me knock up his consort.”

“God” Joseph bites Barclay’s shoulder to keep from crying out as he fucks him harder and faster than he thought possible. 

“I won’t, though.” Barclay coos, snaking one arm beneath Joseph to trap his hips even more fully against him so that the thrusts become short and sharp, “you’re in charge, blue eyes. Do just about anything for you, be so good for you, oh, oh fuck, Joseph, Joseph, baby-” there’s a howlgrowlpurr as Barclay spills inside him. Joseph holds him close, kissing his face as he rocks his hips through the last of it. 

“You okay?” Barclay kisses his forehead.

“Better than I’ve ever been.” Joseph reluctantly untangles their legs, “you’re wonderful, Barclay.”

And I think I just had an idea about how to get you free. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Uh, hi, can I help you?”

“I think so. This is Amnesty Lodge, right?” 

“Yeeeah?” The dark-haired young woman looks at him like she’s expecting a trick.

“It is quite alright, Aubrey. This is the human I mentioned might come today. My, what an interesting timeline this is shaping up to be. And yes, Joseph Stern, we are very amenable to kidnapping you.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay is dumped unceremoniously at the edge of Sylvain. All they told him was that he was part of a prisoner exchange. Given that he hasn’t seen Joseph in five days, he has a bad feeling he knows who it was. 

He doesn’t know whether he should be grateful to the human for making himself into even more of a political pawn for Barclay’s sake, or pissed that his solution was one where they’ll never see each other again. 

A half days journey brings him to Amnesty, and after a flurry of hugs and tears, he excuses himself up to his room to collapse for a bit. 

Joseph is sitting on his bed, reading.

“How did-” Barclay doesn’t finish the question, too busy clambering onto the bed to kiss the human senseless. 

“I had a lot of time to read law books when I was consort. And if someone is taken prisoner during peacetime, they have the right to decide they wish to remain in the other country once freed. Very few people even know that option is there, let alone use it. But once the trade was secured, I was happy to.”

“Not bad, pretty boy.” Barclay kisses him again, “not bad at all.”

[spacelesbiandisasterii]

A small update on my WIP!

Aka "The war within me"

Ok, so for the people that happened to read "The War Within Me" first chapter two months ago (I can't fuckin believe it's been two months) I just wanted to say that I didn't abandoned the project.

Between staying with my grandpa in the hospital (he crashed his motorcycle on a car) and then having Dengue myself (bc I was in the hospital the house I lived was empty and the mosquitos procreate like crazy in the summer I ended up being exposed) I quickly learn that AO3 curse is real and didn't get much time to write.

On top of that Chapter two was already a bit difficult bc it was set to explore Barriss and Anakin relationship and I didn't get to see the two of them interacting on the Star Wars media I consumed. I know they do interact in the novels, but I didn't read any yet (Shame on me!) so it's being kinda tricky, y'know? Mostly of what I wrote I ended up deleting right after because it didn't feel right.

Luckily now I feel like I got the vibe I wanted to pass with them, and I also very proud of the situation that I put them into.

For those that don't remember, Luminara departed to arrest Nute Gunray with the mysterious new Padawan of Anakin Skywalker (I wonder who that could be) while Barriss it's tasked to meet Anakin on the Aargonar System/Planet so they can create a distraction to keep the Seps occupied while Master Unduly gets that sleemo safely to prison.

Great plan, right?

Still, Aargonar will be a little though for Barriss for obvious reasons, and Anakin... Well, he will be doing what he's thing while trying to learn how to be a teacher figure, since it's just been a couple of month since he got his Padawan and now he got to deal with Barriss too (at least for a day).

Anyways! Here's a sneak peek for chapter two, I hope I'll be posting the whole thing soon:

(ps: this is not edited and I'm bad at english)

The news that they would be serving under General Skywalker quickly brought the clones some questions about the man. Barriss was slightly surprised by how popular Anakin truly was among the troops, but the longer the clones talked the more it made sense to why they look up to him so much. "I heard the 501st destroyed a Seppie Super weapon." Klutz, one the skinnies that recently got into the 41st legion spoke up to his brothers. "A ship that destroyed entire fleets! Can you imagine that?" The Malevolence. Barriss heard some talks around the temple at the time. Not only Anakin had destroyed the ship that previously had killed Jedi and clones on multiple battles, but he also managed to save Master Plo Koon and a few clones on the process. People were impressed to say the least, and the 501st legion accumulated dozens of other impressive victories to further legitimize Anakin's leadership. "You know what people call him? The Hero with no fear!" Edger add causing a few gasps of surprise and admiration from his brothers. Barriss had to turn back so they couldn't see her scoff. Now that was just ridiculous. "Padawan Offee, you know him, right?" Klutz asked not bothering on hiding all his excitement. "Yes, I do." "Well, how's he like?" She took a deep breath. How to even begin explaining Anakin? He indeed was a very brave person, true to his values and loyal to his friends in a way that very few could be, but to call him "Hero with no fear", like it seems Republic Propaganda liked to do recently, was to ignore that fact that he was human, and a Jedi. There's no person without fear and, like Master Yoda like to say, there's no heros in war. She wished she could talk about her friend. The Anakin that used to visit her youngling clan with Master Kenobi to help instruct lightsabers lessions and always find excuses to make their classes end early. The one that always found something interesting for her and Aayla to do while their Masters engaged on heated conversation about their last mission. The one that was human before being a military hero. She wished Klutz and Edger knew that version of him, but they also needed to enter this mission trusting their General just as much they trusted Luminara. "He's one of the best Generals of the GAR." She said look at her soldiers. "It's not usual for a recently knighted Jedi get their own Legion to command right away, but Council found him worthy of it. I'm sure whatever we'll be facing on Aargonar Master Skywalker already have a plan so we can succeed in our mission." I hoped. Barriss knew Anakin could be quite unorthodox at times, but she didn't had a chance to serve by his side ever since he got knighted. Judging by the reports of his mission he probably had grown a lot as a Jedi on the time being, and she trusted that things would go smoothly under his command.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖

51 for ❄️:

---

I found your email on the Zoom invite. You can tell me to mind my own business and I won’t be offended. 

Session got heavy today and I just wanted to check on you. You remind me a lot of myself. And if that’s a hunch I’m correct about, my guess is that you’re stewing right now. Second guessing everything you said, maybe?

If that’s the case, I want to say, don’t. I resonated with most everything you said. For whatever that’s worth. 

Hope all is okay,

Charlie 

Eddie rereads the email three times. It’s strange. Whatever similarities Eddie was picking up on, Charlie found them too. He wonders what it is exactly. And then, there’s something else. Something that tightens Eddie’s throat just to think of it. A kindness. One Eddie’s not sure he’s earned, but appreciates nonetheless. 

So he emails Charlie back. 

Date: July 5th, 2024

To: charles.timothy@yahoo.com

From:  eddiaz92@gmail.com

Subject: Re:Checking In

Hey Charlie,

Thank you for reaching out. Not overstepping at all. I appreciate it, actually. 

This is all so new and I don’t really know how to talk about any of it. It’s good to know someone understands in some way, at least. So thanks. 

Thanks for being brave enough to share first, too. I wouldn’t have followed, otherwise. 

Eddie

That’s how it all starts. 

v.

By the time Eddie hangs out with Buck, two days later, he and Charlie have emailed back and forth over a dozen times. In those emails, Eddie has learned a lot about Charlie. He lives in Milwaukee. He has two dogs, Irish Setters. He has two daughters, Iris and Emily. Iris is more open to talking to him, Emily is pretty much no-contact. That’s his biggest regret in life, more than anything. 

Eddie has shared all about Chris with him, too. It flows sort of naturally. More easily than these issues ever have with anyone. It’s not that Eddie can’t talk about it with Frank or Buck or even Bobby. He always can. And they’re sympathetic and non-judgmental and great. It’s just that, Charlie knows exactly what this is like. Has made the same mistakes.

---

54 for 🪞:

---

Without them, what would he be? 

Dove needs that. Maybe Buck isn’t the perfect person for the job. He knows it’s not going to be easy. But he doesn’t give up on people. He knows that about himself beyond a shadow of a doubt. 

Buck starts a group chat with Maddie, Chim, Hen, and Karen and asks them for help connecting him to the right resources. He gets the process started. 

He’s all in. 

v.

Two things happen on the same day.

Buck gives his notice to his landlord and, sort of, to Tommy. 

It becomes apparent right away that he can’t stay in the loft. Maybe that would work with an actual baby, but not a child who is old enough to require privacy. He needs a two bedroom. Luckily, Eddie sends him a listing around the corner from him for a duplex to lease at not much more than he’s already paying for this fancy-ass loft. Buck jumps on it. 

And the day he signs the lease, and gives his notice, he meets Tommy for dinner. He obviously needs to explain this. It’s becoming real. The process is amping up with social services. Angie is thrilled that someone is interested in Dove. Deirdre, the social worker who has worked with Hen and Karen for years, has personally committed to overseeing the process and expediting it where possible. Hen says that’s likely out of guilt with the situation with Mara. Buck feels bad that that is in any way benefitting him. He wishes there was more that he could do for Hen and Karen, other than being the model character witness when the time comes. 

He hasn’t said anything to Tommy yet and he feels badly about that. He knows it’s not exactly lying. It’s not like Tommy has brought up the very specific question of whether Buck is moving and planning a foster-to-adopt situation for a child he has rescued twice now. But he’s still omitting something significant and that feels shitty. It’s just that, he suspects Tommy won’t be happy about it. He meant what he said to Eddie. It doesn’t matter whether or not Tommy is supportive. He isn’t going to make this decision based on what a short term partner has to say about it. That’s ill advised. But still, it sort of sucks, doesn’t it?

He doesn’t know for sure. He just gets the feeling Tommy isn’t a kid guy. And maybe Buck didn’t pay too much attention to that at first. He didn’ want to look too closely at it and find a reason to not pursue someone he really liked. Someone who opened him up to this new, important side of himself. Someone who he could build something with, as long as he doesn’t approach that pesky but crucial little question and get an answer he doesn’t like. One that is inherently incompatible with what he wants. Do you want kids? 

It’s not that Tommy is bad with kids. He isn’t. Chris obviously really liked him when he was here. He’s never unkind to children or annoyed by the ones they encounter in public. It’s just… A sense Buck gets. There was a night Buck had to babysit Jee and Mara last minute for Maddie when he’d had a date night planned with Tommy. Tommy had canceled instead of joining him. 

---

And then the library one has been posted :)

[cosmicjoke]

hi, I have two questions I would like to ask about the ending of AOT and I was hoping you explain them to me.

there is something I’m not clear about Eren. If Eren wanted to kill 100% of the world but he knew his friends would stop him, why couldn’t he take away their titan powers or left them in the paths until he could finish the rumbling. I know he wants to give them freedom but I’m not quite convinced. why couldn’t he stopped what he was doing and explained everything during the final battle instead of dragging the fight and potentially kill his friends if he wanted to save them?

why did Zeke’s death stopped the rumbling? I know he’s of royal blood, but since Ymir obeyed Eren and chose not to follow Zeke, doesn’t that make Zeke’s royal blood irrelevant? How could Eren transform into a giant colossal if he lost the founding titans power because of Zeke’s death?

I'll try to answer as best as I can.

For your first question, it really is as simple as Eren believing in freedom and not, supposedly, impeding on the right of anyone else to choose what they do. He could have taken away everyone's titan powers or tried to stop them in some other way, but he wanted to let them make the choice on their own of whether they would side with him or against him. Of course, there's an inherent contradiction in Eren's actions. As much as he values freedom and the ability to choose for oneself, ultimately, his selfishness superseded his ideology and often, without really realizing it, interfered with and took away other people's freedom to choose. He was so hellbent on getting to experience his own, personal idea of freedom, that is, a world devoid of humanity, that he forced his friends into situations and conflicts they never agreed or consented to. And really, Eren had been doing that since young childhood, when he would get into fights under the guise of protecting Armin, when all he really wanted to do was fight, and in the process, drag Mikasa into conflicts she didn't ask for or want in order to protect him. He placed his friends constantly into danger and into corners in which they had no choice but to comply with his demands and wishes. Eren is a hypocrite, and he knows it, too. It's why he calls himself a "half-hearted piece of shit", because he knows as much as he preaches about the importance of freedom and everyone's right to it, he's also willing, without hesitation, to take people's freedom away from them if it means securing his own, warped idea of it for himself.

As for why Eren didn't attempt to explain himself during the final battle, again, it's because of his selfishness. What one has to understand about Eren is that he's really just a big, idiot child in a man's body. He never matured past the age we first meet him at, which is like 9 or 10 years old. He never grew past that mindset and willfulness. Whatever he set his mind to, whatever he wanted, he was going to go after it, and nobody was going to talk him out of it or convince him otherwise. He knew, if he tried explaining himself to his friends, they would still try to stop him and convince him that he couldn't do what he was doing, and ultimately, he knew he wouldn't listen, and it would all end up the same either way. In the end, Eren placed his own desires over his friends and comrades well-being, which really puts the lie to his claim that he was doing it to protect them and the island. As he admits to Armin, his willful actions ended up getting Sasha and Hange killed, and put his friends into direct conflict with Floch, and he doesn't mention it, but they also nearly got Levi killed, and countless other people on the island died as a result, including the entirety of the higher-up military officers. The Rumbling was never about protecting his friends or the island. Anyone paying any attention to the story should understand that.

For your second question, Zeke's death stopped the Rumbling because, even though Ymir chose to follow Eren instead of Zeke, it was still Zeke's connection to Ymir that allowed Eren to make contact with her. With Zeke dead, that connection was severed, and thus, Eren's ability to control Ymir's power was cut. He no longer had a direct line to her power.

As for how he was able to turn into that giant titan at the end... I actually have no idea, lol. That might just be one of those things in the story that doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Maybe someone else can explain that one better. It's been a while since I read the manga, too, so maybe I could give you an actual answer here if I went back and read it, haha. Maybe it had something to do with Eren still holding the Founding Titan in him, despite his direct line to Ymir being cut. Maybe she transformed him into a Colossal Titan to battle Armin's, in order to buy time for the worm creature to get back in contact with him. That's the best I can come up with on that one, I'm afraid, haha.

Anyway, I hope I was able to answer your questions and thanks for asking!

[dustyratt]

Hey I hope you’re doing okay! Ive been stalking your page for a while! I’m in the same process of making a visual novel! I was wondering how you do the AI+Sims 4 without it looking you know jacked up! Would love to know your progress!

Hold your hats everyone, i'll be explaining in details...

I was quite sceptical about AI previously. It felt like I'm being replaced with something monstrous, artificial - the imitation of life that's superior me on every single parameter. The sudden sting of a guilt for years of seemingly vain trials and tribulations. Was it all just for nothing? I believe everyone of us came to that question sooner or later. But here I stand telling you how to make a machine fulfill your demands.

First thing. The machine loves precise. From my personal experience, a better formed human wish grants a better machinery result. A less formed wish gives it a choice. Think beforehand, seek the patterns (keywords) that may help you sustain the artstyle throughout the workflow.

Tell the AI what it needs to do. Give it a reference image and explain how you want it to be changed. For example, I want this alien dude becoming a:

"A visually ominous face of an eyeless humanoid creature. This divine image, resembling a digitally rendered painting, showcases the ancient Egyptian god of chaos in detail: sharp chin and cheekbones, dark gray and beige skin, shimmering with pulsating rainbow hues, blood is visibly circulating under his translucent, cadaverous skin. His mouth with tightened teeth grins menacingly. The overall composition is dynamic and captivating, evoking a sense of fear, malevolent power and impending chaos". That will be my prompt. If you're lacking skills then put your hands on other's results, copy their prompts and reshape according to your needs.

Oh. Not so eyeless. Let's give it less of a free will shall we?

Better now! Sadly the eyes are in place, as you can see it is not perfect even with precise input. Now let's make about 5-10 generations with same settings. It may take time to pass a cooldown after you'll run out of tokens, so be patient. If you have absolutely no spare money to buy a decent amount of generations (or if the transactions themselves are banned in your country 👍) and your enthusiasm is on pathetically vigorous level join me on free trial option almost any of the AI sites provide. That is fair exchange - money or your time.

You get what I mean? It could be anything shaped into another anything. Put here your sim, order a nice shot - here you go! Make something out of nothing with the power of words. Make a human being... some kind of.

Hooray! Not only we have the result we craved for but a whole bunch of reusable high-quality textures of various nature.

Our next step: we go in a deep dark lair of creator's mind. Hm-m, I'd correct here and there, erased that part and attached that one... Now we play "compile your Frankenstein out of everything that is not in its place". Of course a machine is not yet on the level where there wouldn't be a possibility to distinct its presence. So to hide these little (big, actually) inconsistencies we use a power of photo editing. Grab your software. With the power given to you by the sense of vision eliminate the overgrowing fingers and fight back mutilated teeth clumps.

Meet my favourite one hundred percent AI generated method. Generate a simple low quality image free and effortlessly (I use Craiyon, the perfect weapon)

Let another AI add the details for you. Catches the concept just great. Though it does not mean no handiwork after.

You can stylize it even further. Here you can see AI generated monster dudes crispy pixelated after a luxurious tour into pixelart AI. Good thing for a pixel indie gamestyle.

So, that's it. The secret is basically in your own hands. Acknowledge the style of your game, follow it while generating contents and patch up the AI mistakes.

+ zero investments

+ compensation for a lack of skills / hardware

+ easy to use

- even more work than if you would do all the same without AI

- straight dependence on sites / chat-bots, etc.

- time consuming

- many limitations (forget this if you're not on a free subscription... wait a second that abolish the first plus too!)

Hope it was helpful!

[oh-shtars]

Hi! I know you can’t draw right now, but if you wanted to do something to share your story without hurting your hand, I have an idea!

(Don’t, I mean DON’T take it if this distracts from your motivation to finish your outline. Take that high and ride it! After it’s tapered off a bit, then take a look at this 👍)

So! My idea— go to Pinterest and find a few, maybe three to five, pins that you think represent the character dynamics and relationships of your story. I know you had one like “ship dynamics I go rabid for” for Ashueño, so here’s your opportunity to find more! Maybe some for Grand Despair as well, maybe some for the seven teens, whatever you find that you think works for your story!

YAYYYY!!!

Thanks so MUCH Bo! I LOVED this idea and it was actually pretty fun AND helpful to be looking through the dynamics I could have with the RFTS!cast! Whether platonic or romantic, they’re starting to grow on me and I hope y’all do as well. ^^

Note: They might be subject to change in the future. We’ll see. But so far, I think this is what I have in my head for now.

I DON’T own the art below from here. I got all these from Pinterest soooo, credits to the owners. Please remember that I’m not referring to the canon movie when sharing these dynamics. The RFTS!AU is a whole seperate thing from it.

Now let’s get to it! (This is going to be a loooooooong read :)

RFTS!Character Dynamics!

1.) Flazino and Asha

Fun Fact: I know I may not mention Flazino much (Yes, he exists), I think this is the first post I’ve ever actually properly mentioned him. BUT did you know that his relationship with Asha is one of my favourites? ✨✨ Believe it or not, I honestly like the concept idea of Flazino x Asha buuuut I like them as I have them now currently.

For context, Flazino works as the kingdom’s royal announcer AND tour guide. He’s well known and friendly with people with a huge little secret. He’s a guy who’s silently disagreeing with the king’s wish-granting process and secretly learning more in his interest in magic-casting. (Something that’s forbidden other than the king and queen btw.)

Meeting Asha, Flazino found someone else he could confide in and sigh in relief that he’s not crazy with his doubts. Meanwhile, Asha is encouraged to at least take one step forward. To be a tad more confident in taking action. (Since she’s the king’s assistant and could possibly be the only one who’s close enough to suggest some changes because Mag wouldn’t even bat an eye at his direction. In Flazi’s eyes at least...)

I love them. I think of “The Other Side” scene in the Greatest Showman when thinking about them :))

Plus, another funny scenario in my head that when they first actually have a real conversation, Flazino is surprised she doesn’t know who he is. Most of the kingdom does as he is the public announcer or the ‘hard-to-miss’ outgoing tour guide. Asha, who’s often in her own little world in her head and an absolute wallflower, just maybe remembers him as some guy she must’ve passed a minute or two ago.

They got close mostly due to Flazino. (Asha never would have the initiative to really talk to new people otherwise.) In her view, she admires him. Flazino’s basically the person she only wished she could be. Confident. Keeps to their word. Proactive. Unfortunately, she doesn’t think that would happen any time soon. Totally…

Flazi, who’s a magic enthusiast, is a tiny jealous that Asha gets to be near and witness Magnifico’s sorcerer magic up-close. Sometimes, he brings it up and ask “Hey! How was your new job with the king?” and she’s like:

But hey! This is their lovely dynamic! They’re not just friends. Nor are they lovers. They’re the secret third option. Lmao. They don’t really have a label for what they are but plenty of people assume they’re a thing. (They’re not. The misunderstandings and their attempts at explaining are terribly awkward 😅) Their relationship is a little rocky since Flazino tends to be a little too pushy. With Asha’s initial shy and people-pleaser attitude at first, Flazi is unaware of how he unintentionally fails to listen to Asha’s side of the story and her worries. Just like everyone else but in a different way…

But he really does mean no harm in anything he does and ultimately, these two are really close! X3 (Let me know what you think of this introduction to RFTS!Flazino.)

…………

2.) Safi x Dario

Oh look! It’s me with a pretty unique ship! (Note again that this is all just an AU. The dynamics within Asha’s friend group in the movie we got is almost blank anyways so I don’t really care how people choose to interpret it. This is just me.)

Hehe, Safi was sort of pining way back then. Dari was one of the few people who don’t find his allergies annoying or leave whenever he gets into a sneezy fit. I meaaaaaaan, his other 5 friends don’t as well, but Safi can tell they still find his allergies a little bit of an inconvenience, especially when he clumsily tries to help. Often leading into a mess. But neither side ever holds it against the other.

Dario specifically doesn’t mind the messes at all. Or even…notice it in the first place.

Plus, they share an interest in bird-watching and just birds! in general. It’s especially chickens in Safi’s case while Dario tends to get distracted watching some birds fly past.

Another thing they bond about is how they could relate to people getting frustrated with them despite how they’re trying. With Safi’s allergies getting in the way often and Dari’s hard-of-hearing making it difficult to communicate sometimes. It’s a nice change of pace to have someone who wouldn’t bring it up in frustration or anything.

So hopefully you can see why they grew fond over time. ;)

………

3.) Asha x Star (Hopes and Dreams)

Yes. I called him Star at this point in the story. He hasn’t been given the name, Sueño, yet.

This is sort of their dynamic in their first few times getting to know each other. Asha wanting to help Rosas find an alternative way to reach and achieve their wishes without Mag’s intervention while Star is just: “Ffffffffine. I don’t see why they’d need more wishes but whatever.”

Of course, these two are going to develop and understand the other more over time. Into something a whole lot more and that neither ever expected~ 💖

………

4.) Magnifico x Amaya (Grand Despair)

Lol, I like to think that a lot of people underestimate Amaya even back when they were younger. “Oooh~ she’s actually kind of fcked up too.”

I already mentioned before that the tragic fate this couple is going is similar to Phineas and Charity’s relationship from the Greatest Showman. The pursuit for something else causing one of them to slowly drift away from the other buuuut…. let’s not talk about that for now.

Anyways usually, Magnifico does act all royal, grand and confident but let’s face it man. We all know you have a certain weakness you fckin simp. (Dammit, why don’t you let her know you still adore her anymore these days? Hmm?)

(Sueño watching this scary, short-tempered guy turn into a pathetic loser around his wife is just…wow. So that’s love? He almost hopes he doesn’t fall in- OH WAIT-)

………..

5.) Gabo and Dario

I really feel like there’s much wasted potential between interactions with these two. Come on! It’s Grumpy and Dopey!! Think of the comedic potential-

Anyways, I read somewhere that Gabo is just someone who’s been disappointed greatly and it’s why he’s so pessimistic. So I’m taking that one of his family members passed without having a chance to get a single dream granted and now he’s all pissy with people. It’s Gabo’s main thing that no one should’ve underwent injustice like having a promise they trusted to be broken just like that. Especially not his own.

Dario’s main trait is patience and that’s pretty much how he is around Gabo. Whether he’s amazingly tolerant of him OR whether he really couldn’t read the social cues, no one knows. But these two eventually become very good friends. The “He’s an idiot. But I guesss he’s my idiot.” kind of friendship.

Gabo would never really admit it directly or out loud but he truly does care for each one he considers a friend. Yes, Dario may forget which side is left or right but if you so as much talk sht about him, get ready to be taking some sht back.

……..

6.) Safi and Bazeema

These two are rarely ever seen apart to the point where people thought they were siblings. Bazeema is very compassionate and her favourite part about Safi is how he is always straight-up honest with himself even if it’s embarrassing. (She doesn’t like it when people put up a mask and leave her guessing in what they want from her.) Safi also tries to be selfless and help out whenever she’s struggling about speaking out louder or if she went non-verbal for a bit.

Safi also tends to be impulsive and may let out some stuff he’s not supposed to let anyone know but he can always count on her to not tell a soul. Meanwhile, Bazeema is really quick and agile so she can efficiently move to help Safi out in any of his clumsy accidents. They’re a working power-duo! :DD

……….. 7.) Bazeema and Hal

Romantic or platonic in whatever universe. I don’t care. They’re in a QPR in the RFTS!AU fellas and they balance each other out very nicely and are just adorable. Along with Safi, Hal helps in easing Bazeema out whenever she’s overthinking something. They’re like the two main people who best understand her.

But Hal specifically brings a little more zest into her life that Bazeema can’t help but develop a ‘squish’ on.

………… 8.) Valentino and Asha

Self-explanatory. This is Asha’s chaotic son who will head-butt people for her no matter how big or small the target is. She loves him very much regardless.

…………

9.) Simon x Dahlia

Awwww, these two are kind of like the parents of the group and are just concerned for everyone’s safety. They’re also both struggling internally with family-related issues of what’s expected for them.

Simon to make his father proud by finally proving that he earned it to be knighted while Dahlia is biting her tongue from any complaints about her royal baker role so she can preserve her family’s honour. (Despite getting her wish granted of being good at baking, Dahlia still feels empty inside and she thinks it’s because she’s being ungrateful. Which she feels guilty about.)

Both keep reassuring the other that what they’re doing is more than enough. But Simon keeps feeling like he isn’t exerting himself more while Dahlia can’t help but feel like a fraud in her predicament. (It’s not even any of their faults…It’s not their fault they didn’t know the consequences of giving away their wishes….😭😭)

They’re basically an unofficial couple that even THEY aren’t aware of because it just happened naturally. They’re each other’s backbone :))

……….

10.) Aaaaaand to top it all off, here’s my very favourite dynamic out of them all :)

Hehehehehehehehe…….