#we were so close to their table that we were all practically sharing a booth together so we could hear all the details 👀

[petalsandpurity]

I went near Cambridge at the weekend and I realised I was in a completely different class bracket when my dad and I ended up on a table next to two guys my age at a restaurant talking about gentrification and how they had dinner with their friend who teaches law at Oxford uni

[jj-5656]

Mine First  With; James Potter (ATJ)

  A/N: Hello again! This took forever, I know. Writing has been taking me so much longer lately. What used to be single sit downs has become a three week mf process. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. This one was based of a request so feel free to keep flooding the inbox.

Summary: The one where you finally meet James’ best friends

TW: some suggestive humor, drinking

        It’s a brisk walk from where the cab’s dropped you off to the pub. The summer air is inviting, and you can smell some bonfire miles away as the streetlights illuminate your path from the lot. The harrowing work week has come and gone, and James has finally convinced you to meet his long-loved group of friends for a drink. 

It’s not like you believed you wouldn't like them. From the loads of stories of your boyfriends retold fondly from his school years, they’re an amazing bunch. But that’s just the thing, James’ friends seem absolutely amazing. A beautiful blend of complimenting personalities to form one unbreakable bond. 

Its undoubtedly intimidating. You’d never want to nose your way in on such a close-knit group. They’ve shared so much together, you’d hate to intrude. Besides, what if they didn’t enjoy your company? Whether you were too closed-off, too eccentric, too in-between. The thought has you stopping in your tracks, just short of the quaint pubs’ entrance. James halts too, having been pulled back your interlocked hands. The elation falls from his face as his eyes meet yours, lips pulling into a frown at your anxious demeanor. 

“What is it, love?” His hands go to hold your face, side-stepping drunken patrons as they shuffle out of the door. 

“What if they don’t like me?” If James’ eyes weren’t trained on your every movement, every breath, he’d probably miss the words slip past your lips. There’s not an ounce of self pity to them. It’s so soft, so gentle he practically feels his heart tear in two. 

“Sweetheart,” it escapes as a chuckle, astonished at the notion. “I promise you, those chances are terribly slim. Impossible even.” He presses a kiss to your lips because he can’t help it, another to your jaw. Willing away the oncoming anxiety in a way only he can manage. “They’re going to love you.” 

“You can’t know that.” You tug at sleeves of his leather jacket you’ve borrowed, feeling simultaneously under and over dressed with the white long-sleeved top underneath. 

“I can, because I love you.” His hands fall to your hips to send a reassuring squeeze, readjusting your necklace so the clasp is to the back of your neck. “Stop fiddling with your outfit, you look great.” His hazel eyes narrow, “a little too good, I think. Avoid Sirius, he’ll start flirting.” You only roll your eyes, letting him pull you into an embrace with a slow, deep breath. Pushing at his broad shoulders and fighting a fit of giggles when he blows a raspberry into your neck.

“Okay, okay. Enough, James.”

“Im sorry, love. Can’t help it.” He mutters the confession into the shell of your ear, ignoring your squirms of protest. With a reluctant pull away, he raises his brows in expectation, satisfied smirk adorning his features now that he’s effectively warmed you up. “We ready?” 

“Ready.” You take his outstretched hand with ease, letting him lead you in.

Light and laughter swarms your senses as soon as the door opens. The quiet of the night escapes you as it shuts behind your form. James greets a few familiar faces as he leads you through the crowded pub. It’s a town favorite, one he frequents with his friends. So much so that the owner saves a booth in the back for the lot of them. 

They’re rowdy as you approach, in the midst of some drinking game you recognize from high school. A pile of spoons are lined up on the table whilst they all reach for playing cards to add to their pile. The pretty red head’s eyes widen when she collects her most recent card, diving across to reach for a utensil. The rest of them are instantaneous in their follow-up, all reaching for a spoon of their own with a chorus of shouts and profanities. A tall, sandy haired gentleman huffs a sigh, regrettably chugging what’s left in his cup, seeing as he’s the only one without a utensil in hand. Faded scars adorn his handsome features, and it’s then you recognize him as Remus. The kind soul with some chronic illness, though it does little to stiffen his sass. 

James clears his throat, grabbing the group’s attention. “Having all the fun without us, are you?” They erupt in cheers, delighted with his presence. Immediately, their eyes avert to you, all kind and curious smiles. “Everyone, this is y/n. Love, this is...Everyone.” You offer a shy wave, immediately feeling silly with the action. 

“But…She’s so pretty?” A long, raven-haired boy chimes in, and another fit of laughter elicits from the group. The red head stands, ushering you into the booth with a gentle manicured hand on your shoulder. 

“Sit down, sit down. You’re as lovely as James described.” A blush adorns your cheeks, a glance to James for reassurance as you sit. “I’m Lilly, we’re so happy to finally meet you!” 

“Considering Prongs has hid you from us for so long.” A beautiful girl with curly hair and caramel-colored skin teases beside Remus, squeezing your hand with hers. With another quick look to your boyfriend, he mouths ‘Mary’ without needing you to ask. 

“Can you blame me? We’re here all of two seconds and you’re on her like hounds.” James’ hand squeezes your knee as he leans down, grabbing your attention. “What d’you want to drink?” It's a bit noisy, you have to focus your hearing on him amongst all the excitement. 

“Surprise me.” Is all you can manage, nodding to Remus when he holds up cards in a silent ask if you’ll join the game. 

“Anyone else?” A chorus of orders follows your boyfriend’s polite gesture, and he frowns. “Pitchers for the table it is, then. Be back in a sec.” With a kiss to your temple, your boyfriend backs away to leave you to the (albeit friendly) wolves. Sirius scrambles out of the booth, eager to unload all his questions on his best friend.

“Hold up, Prongs. I’ll help!” Immediately, the connection between the two is palpable. The lanky boy practically tackles your boyfriend into a hug. Patting his back in an obvious ‘job well done.’ You ignore their shared gaze as they await their orders. James is more than happy to blabber on about you to anyone that will let him, so he allows the array of questions from his best friend. 

“They’re quite a pair.” You note fondly, watching as Black ruffles a blushing James’ hair at the bar. 

“I’ll say.” Remus smiles too, expertly shuffling the stack of cards as he glances over at the two. “Biggest troublemakers in our year.” The girls nod along, setting up the game front them between sips of their drinks. 

“You’re kidding?” This catches all their attention, pausing their movements as you cock your head in question. 

“You mean James hasn’t mentioned his pranking phase?” You shake your head,  feeling as though you’re about to gain some great blackmail. 

“Not even the time he accidentally died his own hair pink for a week?” 

“Shut up.” The three nod eagerly, and you decide you love them already. 

“We’ll get into that later,” Mary frowns at the cards in hand, uncaring for a poker face. Brown eyes glistening with mischief as she surveys you. “Give us all details on James.”

You can only laugh. “Like what?” The four of you are quick as you converse, picking up cards and putting them down just as swiftly. Eager to collect four of a kind. 

“Is he romantic?” Lilly starts, muttering a profanity at a card before disposing it.

“Does he plan all of the dates?” Mary adds, eyes averting to the pair still at the bar to ensure your privacy.

“Does he still lose his glasses six times a day?” His old roommate grumbles, no real irritation to it. Sirius approaches the table before James with enough time to hear the interviewing, sliding in the booth beside you after setting the pitcher of beer down with a smug grin. 

“Is he as good in bed as he lets on?” You cough on your own saliva at his  teasing, trying to gain composure as James approaches. Brows taught in concern as he surveys the lot of his friends trying to conceal their laughter. Sirius goes to pat your back soothingly, making contact only once before he’s hoisted from his seat by the collar and sent to the booth on the other side. James takes his place, shooting an incredulous glare to his best mate when you offer a meek smile after having calmed down. 

“Alright, dove? You’re flushed.” He cups your jaw in his hand, thumb rubbing over your brow. You pull at his wrist to cease his doting, eyes shooting toward Remus when he snatches a spoon. You try, but your distraction has gotten the best of you. You stick a tongue out to the lot of them as they cheer, tilting you head back to chug your drink. James beams as they applaud on, astonished at your speed. An overwhelming sense of pride filling him at their impress. 

When you’re finished, grimacing at the taste and laughing along, Potter can’t help but stare. You’re fitting right in, just as he’d suspected. Completely enamored with the notion, he presses a kiss to your shoulder, shifting closer so he can get in on the game.

Your pitchers are on their third refill when James pulls you into his lap, insisting it’ll grant more room to the pair of you and the two girls beside you. Usually, you’d refuse his public displays of affection, but it’s honestly more comfortable for the lot of you. Admittedly, his friends are even better than he’s described, and despite having just met them you feel completely at ease in their company. When you’ve changed card games and you’ve still lost, Potter wraps his arms around you so that you can see his own. “You can be on my team, then.” He has to lean close for you to hear, and you bite back a smile in lieu of a poker face. Eyeing the raven-haired boy from across the table with a smug grin. 

“Thank you, Jamie. Always so generous.” This time, Sirius chokes. Trying not to spit out the contents of his pint all over the table at your suggestive tone. The rest of the booth besides your poor, clueless boyfriend crumples into fits of laughter. Unbeknownst to your previous conversation and your obvious innuendo. 

“I love her, Prongs. She’s officially one of us.” Mary kisses the crown of your head whilst wiping tears from her eyes. 

Potter is still utterly bewildered at your odd behaviors, but the elation of your acceptance is still distracting. Of course, he knew this would happen. He knows better than anyone how impossible it’d be not to love you. 

“Agreed, let’s keep her.” Remus jests, tilting his glass to you with an amused smile. 

“Here,” Lilly leans over her curly-haired friend with her phone outstretched to you. “Let’s exchange numbers. This way I won’t have to go through Prongs.” 

Mary nods, narrowing her eyes at your boyfriend above you. “We should add her to the girls group chat too, if he’s being a prick she can let us know and we’ll tell him off.” 

“I’m sitting right here, you know.” James shields his cards from Remus, who’s attempting to take the distraction as an opportunity to cheat. 

When you’re finished typing your digits into the redheads phone, you lean forward to look at both girls with raised brows. “Bathroom?” They nod, motioning for your boyfriend to slide you both out of the booth so they can file out. You hesitate before following them, turning on your heel to face the boys again. 

“Sirius is completely bluffing. And Remus has a good hand, but it’s not as good as yours. Don’t fold.” You press a kiss to his temple before taking Lilly’s hand to maneuver through the rowdy crowd, leaving the trio with jaws dropped. Sirius chucks his pile onto the table face up, arms crossed with childish pout. Remus folds too, too impressed to be angry. 

“Mate, how on Earth did you manage that one?” James can’t face them, too focused on watching your frame disappear into the crowd. 

“Absolutely no clue, honestly.” 

********

You huff a sigh as you press send on the seventh email of the night, overwhelmed with the current workload as a company presentation approaches. James is in the living room watching tv, decompressing from his own work day. He gets a call, and there’s some back and forth before he’s knocking at the office door. Approaching with the phone to his ear and a sympathetic smile at your hunched form. 

“Dove, lads want to know if you’ll make it out tonight.” 

“I don't know.” You purse your lips, considering your options as you make a correction to your project. 

“She's not sure, finishing up work,” a pause as he awaits response.  “What do you mean I might as well not come?” You laugh at that, rubbing your temples to ease your stress. James comes up behind you to massage your shoulder with his free hand. Pressing a kiss to the crown of your head with furrowed brows.  “That won't convince her, and especially not me. I buy all her drinks, Black.” There's more conversation on the other line, one you still can't make out despite your boyfriends proximity. “Oh. Well that might.” James presses the phone to his chest and spins your chair so you’re facing him. Crouching down to level with you. “Pads says he’ll sign up for karaoke if you come out.” More talking on the phone has him pressing it to his ear again, grimacing. “Says they won't tolerate my moping if you aren't there.”

“Is he serious?” James rolls his eyes, though it’s not directed at you. This time you can make out the ‘that's my name’ cheekily shouted on the other line. Potter tilts your chin to meet his eyes, full of heartwarming sincerity.

“Up to you, lovely. No pressure.” 

You hate how well he reads you. Practically visualizing the balance scale in your head, anxiously weighing your options. To be fair, you’ve been at it for hours, and have the rest of the weekend to make any last minute changes to the work. 

“Give me an hour to get ready.” There’s muffled cheers through the phone, and your boyfriend doesn’t even try to conceal his pleased expression as he presses chaste kiss to your lips. 

***********

You’re busy in the kitchen next time round. Adding freshly chopped vegetables to the sizzling pan whilst James stirs. It’s awfully domestic, a fondness your heart still hasn’t grown accustomed to. 

You’re planning for a movie night. It’s been a long day and an even longer week,  so a night in seems fitting. Music sounds softly from the record player across the room, Potter admires the way you hum along to the tune without thinking. He catches your frame with his free arm amidst your path to the fridge in search of more ingredients, nipping at the juncture of skin between your neck and shoulder despite your squirms. You pretend to resent his constant longing for affection, half-heartedly pushing against his bicep with muffled laughter into the fabric of his shirt. 

“You’re unbearable, Potter.”

“Hardly.” You shut him up by feeding him a cherry tomato, knowing full well he’ll only eat them unless they're incorporated into a meal. He practically gags, lunging toward you in search of revenge. Heavy arms wrap around your waist to hoist you onto the counter, his hazel eyes narrowed with feigned betrayal. Your phone goes off just then, Lilly’s contact photo beams brightly beside you. 

“Saved by the bell. You’re lucky.” You wave off his empty threats, bringing the phone to your ear with a delighted, albeit confused, smile. 

“Hello?”

“Have you even bothered glancing at the group chat? You’re coming, aren’t you?” 

Your doting boyfriend, nosey as he is, nudges himself between your knees once more. Lowering the heat on the stove to slow it’s cooking. 

“Marlene’s hosting a girls night! Sort of last minute, I know. But we’re all in dire need of a shit talk and a drink, yeah?”

James rears his head back from where it’s situated against yours to hear better, beaming bright with a succinct nod. 

“That does sound nice-”

“Lovely! James won’t mind driving you I’m sure.” Your mouth opens to speak before he’s leaning in close again.

“Not at all, anyone else need a ride?” 

“Prongs, you shouldn’t be eavesdropping. But no, thank you. We should be alright. See you around 8, y/n. Dress code is strictly pajamas, by the way.” 

“Great, thanks Lill’s.” The call ends just in time for the red head to miss James clashing his lips into yours. Grin never leaving his face as his hands take your head in their hold. You pout despite him.

“What about our movie night? You’re not upset?”

“Not at all, lovely. I love that they love you, and I’m even happier that I was right.” 

“And our raincheck?”

“Tomorrow. When you’re hungover and grumpy and I can smother you to my hearts content.” You adjust his glasses and his hair, feeling unworthy of his selfless nature. “I’m just wondering when my mates decided they fancy your company over mine.” 

************

James is enthralled in the rom-com you’d begged him to watch during your marathon. The same one he guaranteed he wouldn’t watch unless you forced him, and promised he’d save for tomorrow. He’s nearing the end and still debating whether he should fess up or pretend to be watching it for the first time when you accompany him. His phone buzzes beside him, a click as he answers before even glancing at the contact.

“Yes?” 

“Hey, Jamie.” Your smile is evident in your voice, light and airy. Potter’s brows shoot upward at the nickname, one rarely used unless you’re-

“I’m a little drunk.” It’s a whisper, some sacred secret he’s elated in receiving. Cheeks burning with the knowing grin adorning his features as he stands. Patting pockets and tossing round pillows in search for his keys. 

“Things are wrapping up there, sweetheart?”

“I think so. Most of the girls are staying over. They're really nice, Jamie. I think they like me.” His grin grows impossibly bigger, heart thrumming with pure love as you hiccup between words. 

“I’m sure they do, lovely. Very hard not to. Did you want to stay?” There's a pause, a shuffle on the other end. As if you’ve switched ears.

“I thought about it...” He cocks his head, awaiting your conclusion. “But I think..” Another pause.

“What is it, sweetheart?” 

“I miss you.” The three words elicit more emotion than winning the Quidditch cup. Without a doubt.

“Yeah?” 

“Only a bit.” You’re shy, then. Distracted by an eruption of laughter and a shout of your name in the background.

“Only a bit? I’ll leave you girls to it, then.” 

“James-”

“Only joking, Dove. Give me twenty minutes, yeah?” 

“Drive safe, please.”

“Always. I’ll text you when I’m there.” 

**********

“Potter!” Dorcas points a wobbly finger toward the man leaning against his car at the curb, eyes narrowed. “You’re stealing her from us?” You’re too busy giving a second round of farewell hugs to notice him just then. 

“She was mine first, you know.” 

“Nonsense.” Mary crosses her arms in mock defense. “We’ve turned her to the dark side.” It’s then you face his direction, unable to conceal how quickly your face lights up. Swiftly enclosing the space between you and nearly knocking him over with the force of your hug. He presses an array of kisses to the top of your head, and extra couple to your lips before he pulls you in again. Sticking his tongue out victoriously to the girls ahead. 

“They’re so in love, it’s nauseating.” Dorcas is all smiles as she speaks her mind. Her and Marlene approaching Potter as he opens the door for you. Unnecessarily reaching over to clasp your seatbelt himself. 

“You better take care of this one, Prongs.” Mary nudges the much taller brunette with complete sincerity. Doing her best to seem intimidating. 

“Right.” Dorcas nods along, eyes trailing his form as he rounds toward the drivers side. “If you fuck it up and its between you and her, we’re choosing her.” James can’t help but laugh, arms raised in surrender as his eyes instinctively fall onto you. 

“I wouldn’t blame you, honestly. I’d choose her too.” Its a chorus of gags at this, though Potter’s too enveloped in your abashed demeanor to care. 

“Off my property, the two of you. You’re sickening.”  

<3masterlist<3

[of-many-aus]

Wrong First Impressions

Summary: jake isn’t acting like you thought he would

Warning: suggestive comments, slight cursing

A/N: i tried to write more but it just didn’t work 🫠

Take Me Out to the Ball Game Masterlist

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“So,” Nat smirked, leaning backwards into the booth, “Tell me how it’s going.”

You shrugged, absentmindedly swirling your straw around in the half melted strawberry milkshake, “It’s fine.”

Your best friend sighed dramatically, tilting her head to face the heavens and closed her eyes in mock annoyance, “Details. We’ve discussed this. I need details.”

A small scowl formed on your lips, “We hardly ever see each other.” You told her honestly about the four days you’ve been living together, despite the slight aggravation in your tone, “He sleeps till god knows when, only coming out of his room when I’m in class. Then I don’t see him most nights unless I stay up late because he’s always at practice.”

The only reminders you had that Jake even lived there was the overly loud snoring at night, and the discarded light blue jerseys and dirt riddled baseball gear he always left lying around.

Honestly, you were kind of happy you almost never saw him. That way you didn’t have to really deal with him.

“Have you seen him naked?” The brunette asked bluntly, popping a fry into her mouth and allowing her smirk to grow even wider.

You gaped at her, “Why would I- have I- what?” You sputtered out.

“Naked.” She repeated slowly, amusement evident on her features, “N-A-K-”

“I know what you said.” You snapped, cutting her off, unsure of why your face was growing red, “But why the hell would I have seen him naked?”

She shrugged and began rattling off a list, “It’s a small apartment. You share a bathroom. He could have forgotten to close his door while changing-“

“Of course I haven’t.” Your glare was back, “Why would you even ask?”

“Just wondering if you wanted to?” Her voice gave away what she was implying.

“Natasha Trace!”

Next thing she knew, a handful of fry’s were thrown at her laughing face.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Someone’s gotta invest in fixing that elevator.” Jake opened the door with a huff, kicking it shut gently behind him.

You looked up from your computer, where you were typing an essay, “It’s been broken since before I moved here.” You informed him.

He groaned, dropping into the chair opposite of you on your small kitchen table, “Maybe I’ll chip in so I don’t have to trek up six flights of stairs anymore.”

“I thought you were supposed to be an athlete,” You murmured, “Isn’t exercise kind of your thing?”

He shook his blond head back and forth, “I’m a baseball player, not a stairs master- there’s a difference.”

All you did was hum, turning your attention back to your screen and pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered on you.

“What are you doing, anyway?”

He was trying to make conversation.

“An english paper.” You told him absentmindedly.

“We have an english paper?” He asked in alarm, eyes widening.

Your own eyes widened as your head snapped up, “Oh, well-“

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t even know that Jake knew you two were in the same class. How could he? He hadn’t even been since the two of you became roommates, so how could he have recognized that you were there.

His eyebrows furrowed, “What is it?”

“Y-you know we’re in the same class?” Your voice was strained as the question slipped past your lips.

It was silent for a moment, before you watched the corners of his eyes crinkle up as he laughed, “Of course I know. Why else would I have become your roommate? I wouldn’t have just seen some random poster online and accepted to live with that person without actually knowing them. I recognized your name and remembered who you were.”

You were dumbfounded.

Here you were, thinking that he had just accepted because he had been as desperate as you were to find a roommate, only to find out that he knew who you were all along. He wouldn’t have lived with some random person, not like you had been stupid enough to try and do.

You swallowed after a moment, clearing your throat, unable to find anything else to say, and glued your eyes back to your screen as if that would stop him from seeing the red that was beginning to spread across your face.

“Hey, listen,” He spoke up after a few moments of a suffocating silence, “Me and a couple of the boys from my team are going out to a fancy restaurant tonight for dinner. Do you wanna join?”

Your head snapped up.

First he knew who you were, and then he wanted to invite you out with his friends? It was too much, too fast.

Jake Seresin was starting to be like someone you never would have pictured. He wasn’t as cocky and ego driven as you thought it was.

It would have been easier if he was. Because then you would have an excuse to keep as much distance between the two of you as you could. Then you wouldn’t accidentally realize that you could be friends with him, or… whatever Natasha was insinuating earlier.

“I-uh- I can’t.” You stuttered out when you realized he was still waiting for an answer, “I have a lot of homework to catch up on.”

Instead of looking hurt or upset that you declined his offer, he simply nodded in understanding, “That’s okay. Next time then.” He gave you a smile before rising from his seat and making his way to his room, shutting the door softly behind him.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You were still awake by the time he got back, curled up under a large blanket, watching some old rerun on the television.

Though you couldn’t see him, you could hear the insertion and turning on the key before he entered and quietly closed the door behind him. You turned in your seat slightly to face him.

He was trying to creep silently through the apartment, only to stop short when he saw you, illuminated in the light of the screen.

“Oh, hi, I thought you would be asleep. I was trying not to wake you.” He greeted.

After a quick glance at the clock and seeing that it read 12:37, you nodded once and pulled yourself from the cushions and shedded the blanket from your body.

“Yeah, I should probably head to bed.”

You came to the realization suddenly, that you had no idea why you were even awake. Normally, you would have been asleep at least two hours earlier than this, so why had you stayed up? And why did you feel like as soon as Jake got back, you could finally fall asleep?

Surely you weren’t waiting to see if he got home okay.

You went to move past him, his feet firmly planted as he stood like a muscular wall in the middle of the small hallway, only to be stopped by his voice.

“Hey, sleep well.”

The two of you were chest to chest in the cramped space, having nowhere to look except into one another’s eyes.

For a moment, the temperature in the room dropped down even more than it had when you rid yourself of the blanket seconds ago. And you felt as if the breath was sucked out of you at the soft smile and kind eyes he was facing you with.

You were close. Oh so close. Almost as if you could lean forward and-

“You too,” You whispered, lowering your head and pathetically scurrying away and into the safety of your room.

Taglist: @djs8891 @pono-pura-vida @shanimallina87 @melllinaa @callsignbirdy @fogle97 @randomfandomgirl97 @averyhotchner @blueoorchid @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misconceptionmistress @ravenclawaddict5285 @j-brielmalfoy @waywardhunter95 @classyunknownlover @whoreforfictionalmen18 @clancycucumber230 @celestialeviereads @h-ngm-ns

[jayvolans]

𝐥𝗼𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝗼𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 | 𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝗺 𝐬𝗺𝐚𝐮

𝐗𝐕𝐈. 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓...?

Although you had become more than accustomed to being around Alhaitham and even going as far as kissing him, you couldn't help but feel nervous to see him.

Of course, you were excited about your date, but... what would you say? Did he actually want to talk about the kiss?

Despite your nervousness, you made your way into Uyuu Restaurant, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. And to your surprise, you could see his grey hair peeking out from the top of a booth.

You were already early as it was, but there he was settled in like he’d been there for some time. Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you made your way over.

“You’re early,” Alhaitham greeted, his usually flat tone softened into something almost akin to fondness. You offered him a small smile before as you slid into the booth across from him.

“Ah, well, I figured you could use some amazing company,” You replied playfully. Alhaitham raised an eyebrow before marking his page and closing his book. “Amazing might be pushing it, but I’ll guess you do.”

You just waved a hand and smirked. “Don’t play coy after basically begging me to grace you with my presence,” You grinned. Before he could send back a smart remark, the waiter was approaching your table.

“Hi, guys! Can I started with something to drink?”

By the time everything was ordered, your nerves had once again gotten the best of you. As the waiter walked away, you could feel Alhaitham's gaze on you.

"You're nervous," He spoke, a hint of amusement in his words. You cleared your throat and faced him, trying to calm your racing heart. Before you could counter his words, however, he was speaking again.

"It's alright... I am too," He smiled, leaning back in his chair. And that was not what you had expected him to say. You had been expecting a little teasing, but never that.

"Why are you nervous?" You asked. You knew why you were anxious, but you sort of doubted that Alhaitham shared the same worries. "I'm on a date with the person I really like, and they look like they're about to run away from the table," He chuckled, but you didn't miss the intent behind his words.

As flustered as you were, the last thing you wanted was for Alhaitham to think that you didn't want to be here. So, squaring your shoulders, you ignored how hot your face felt and grabbed his hand before he could scarecly react.

He startled, but you had already begun to speak. "I really like you, more than I ever imagined I could... we got off on a really bad start, but doing this project with you, well... I saw you in a totally different light," You started, looking at your interlaced hands rather than his eyes.

"I had a lot of fun debating Stellar Lunar with you because I like hearing the way you think and there's something so beautiful about how passionate you get about literature. And not to be corny, but hours go by when we talk and it feels like minutes, and I want that even after we finish Stellar Lunar," You finished, almost in disbelief that you had said so much.

When you finally looked up at Alhaitham, you were stunned. His eyes were blown wide and a lovely pink tinted his cheeks. You couldn't bite back your giggle at that, but you were cut short when palms cupped your cheek.

And just like before, Alhaitham's lips covered yours and you felt everything he had to say to you. He pulled away all too soon, but only just far enough to speak against your lips. "Gods, you're perfect," He breathed, voice practically reverent.

For all the disgreements you'd had about love in regards to Stellar Lunar, you sure seemed to agree at this moment.

@ruisann @imma-too-many-fandoms @coffeecasket @kokxm1 @lunastarjay @dksfl920 @chiisananingen @itonashi @pidgey-ontheloose @ceylestia @jinxnotpowder @natsum-s @adorablezhui @sunsethw4 @deartoru @baelloraa @nambii @simplyxsinned @aixaingela @whipped-for-fictionals @keithsaccount @blayxe @nekogakuro @richxelle @rifran @flutterawayx @nolvngerhvman @celestair @apinu @http-mewchuu @phoenix-eclipses @court-jester-stuff @dustofthedailylife @albedos-world @taoluv @salamiwrites @imkaaayy @turtl3-warr1or @zombieb1t3 @nachotrash @xiaossocksniffer @spilloverlove @thenightsflower @feverish-dove @evilenchantresss @sharkiestory @ayanokomu @deathkat657 @deffenferofjustice @theblueblub @wonderland-fan

ok you guys hate me and i totally get it ;-; uni really took all of my inspiration for writing but im finishing this smau if it kills me LMAO

one last chapter!

[theendofevangelionnn]

just thinking of being extremely clingy to vi and her accidentally yelling at you, kinda like how she did with powder in episode two or three i think

her doing anything and everything to try and fix everything that went down :(

making up with vi after an argument ♡

☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆☆♡☆

I think that Vi isn’t one to immediately apologize after but this was a different story ๑

You became more clingy after she got out of prison which was expected because of the time you two faced apart and not as much of a problem at first- but then she had to get a job ๑

You two ended up fighting about something stupid which then led to the clinginess being brought into the fight ๑

Vi had ended up saying something really mean about how she didn’t need you and that you needed to lay off which obviously took you by surprise because she had never been this mean before ๑

You slept in the guest bedroom that night, eventually passing out from crying, but Vi wasn’t able to sleep- she spent all night trying to figure out what to do ๑

The next day she had left your shared bedroom around noon and noticed that you hadn’t left the guest room yet- it felt like someone had punched her in the chest ๑

She grabbed a piece of paper and wrote a note saying ‘i’m so sorry baby, i’ll make it up to you i promise. i love you so much.’ before leaving the house to collect everything she needed for her apology ๑

She grabbed your favorite flowers and some stuffed animals that reminded her of you in Piltover- deciding that you deserved so much better than whatever sketchy booth the undercity had to provide ๑

When she got home you were on the couch with some random show on for background noise while you read ๑

Taking a deep breath she approached you gently, noting that you had her note in between your pointer and thumb, probably using it as a bookmark ๑

”Hey baby,” Vi started sitting down next to you- keeping a reasonable distance and setting down the goodies she got you on the coffee table- ๑

Before she could stutter out whatever apology she had planned in her head you turned to her, your facial expression letting her know it was your turn to talk ๑

”Why were you so mean?”๑

Who knew a simple could make her so sad? ๑

She wanted to scream at herself- how could she be so stupid? ๑

”I’m sorry y/n, i’m so so so fucking sorry.” She puts her head in her hands and takes a deep breath- ๑

“I don’t know why I said those things, I got mad and just started yelling and I didn’t even know what the fuck i was saying i’m so sorry y/n.” ๑

Moving her head to look at you- she found you playing with the petals of the bouquet she had gifted you-๑

“I just want us to be okay Vi, I was just worried about you”- fuck. ๑

“I know baby I know you were, i’m sorry.” She muttered that word for what seemed like the thousandth time. ๑

”I know you are Vi, I know,” you took a pause- “can we just hug?” ๑

“Of course baby come here-“ ๑

The space she had previously put between you two was closed off in a second- you practically jumped onto he, moving to wrap your arms around her neck. ๑

She gripped the back of your shirt as she started to rock you back and forth in her arms, stuffing her face into the crook of your neck, happy that your argument has come to a close. ๑⁎⁺˳✧༚

☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆☆♡☆

A/n: sorry this story got a bit lazy towards the end- i was on a group call while writing it and some shit happened 💀

[kaluaah]

super sweethearts

no warnings ,, bakudeku , togachako

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆..⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆..⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆..⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡

It was late evening when Ochako, Toga, Bakugo, and Izuku slipped into a booth at a quiet restaurant. The city outside buzzed with the usual late-night energy, but inside, it was all low lights and hushed conversations, a perfect escape from their busy lives as pro-heroes.

Toga sat beside Ochako, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger, her gaze flicking between the others with a gleam of curiosity. Across from them, Bakugo and Izuku sat in an easy silence, though Bakugo had his arms crossed, looking as stoic as ever. It was only their second double date since graduation, but the familiarity between them was undeniable.

“I didn’t expect you two to settle into hero work so fast,” Ochako remarked, looking at Izuku and Bakugo. “It’s like you were born for it.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, his voice casual but sharp. “Tch, like you thought anything else would happen? We were the top students at UA for a reason.”

Izuku smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Bakugo’s right. I guess we just… adjusted quickly. There’s still a lot to learn, though.”

Toga chuckled, glancing at Ochako. “Look at them. Already acting like seasoned pros.”

“Hey, they were always like this,” Ochako teased, giving Toga a playful nudge. “Izuku’s been chasing after Bakugo since we were kids. It’s not a surprise he’s keeping up now.”

Izuku’s face flushed at the mention, his eyes widening slightly. “I-It’s not like that!”

Bakugo snorted. “It’s exactly like that, Deku. You never quit.”

Ochako grinned. “Yeah, and who kept pushing him down every chance you got?”

Bakugo’s expression darkened, though there wasn’t real anger behind it. “That’s ancient history. I don’t push him around anymore.”

“You just shout at him instead,” Toga quipped, resting her chin in her hand. “Real improvement, Katsuki.”

Bakugo gave her a look, but before he could say anything, Izuku quickly interjected. “It’s fine. Bakugo’s... mellowed out.”

Ochako couldn’t help but laugh. “If this is ‘mellowed,’ I’m scared to think what he was like before.”

“He’s always been the same,” Izuku added, his voice softening. “Just… more focused now.”

Bakugo shrugged, not arguing. He seemed content with the quiet moment, though his eyes kept flicking toward Izuku every so often, like he was making sure everything was still in place, still familiar. Their relationship had changed, sure, but that intensity between them was still there.

Toga, watching closely, leaned in toward Ochako. “You ever think how weird it is that we’re all sitting here like this? After everything?”

Ochako thought about it for a second, her fingers playing with the edge of her drink. “Yeah. It’s pretty wild, when you think about it. We used to be on completely opposite sides, and now… we’re here.”

Toga smirked. “Guess I wasn’t so bad after all, huh?”

Ochako gave her a soft smile. “No, you were always... more complicated than that.”

The two shared a quiet moment, a kind of understanding that ran deep. Toga had been a villain, someone who Ochako had fought more than once. But now? They were here, together, and it felt right in a way that didn’t need explaining.

Across the table, Bakugo sighed, leaning back in his seat. “You’re all acting like this is some big deal. We grew up. End of story.”

Ochako rolled her eyes. “Leave it to Bakugo to downplay everything.”

Toga snickered. “That’s his thing. You’d think he’d be a little more romantic, huh, Izuku?”

Izuku’s face turned pink as he glanced at Bakugo nervously. “W-Well, I mean, he has his moments…”

Bakugo shot a glare at Toga. “Don’t drag me into this.”

Ochako leaned forward, clearly enjoying herself. “Come on, Kacchan, you’re dating the guy you used to call ‘Deku’ like it was an insult. You’re practically a different person.”

“Shut up,” Bakugo grumbled, though there was a slight flush on his face as he glanced toward Izuku, who was doing his best to stay out of the line of fire.

Toga grinned at Ochako. “I’d say they’ve changed more than us, don’t you think?”

Ochako smiled, leaning back into her seat. “Maybe. But it’s nice, isn’t it? Things are… better now.”

Izuku nodded, his voice soft but certain. “Yeah. They really are.”

Bakugo didn’t say anything, but there was a brief flicker in his expression—something softer, something unspoken that only Izuku seemed to notice.

The night went on, the conversation shifting between old memories, the challenges of being new pro heroes, and the casual teasing that always seemed to surface when they were together. By the end, it was clear that despite everything—the battles, the rivalry, and the twisted paths that brought them here—they had found their own rhythm.

Toga stood up, stretching her arms over her head. “Well, this was fun. But next time, let’s do something more exciting.”

Ochako laughed, standing beside her. “Like what? You gonna take us on a villain chase?”

Toga winked. “I’m full of surprises.”

Bakugo grunted, pushing his chair back. “As long as it doesn’t involve Deku running into another damn disaster, I’m in.”

Izuku scratched the back of his head, sheepishly smiling. “I’ll try to avoid those, Kacchan.”

Ochako and Toga shared one last glance before following the boys out. The night had been quiet, but the connections between them were undeniable—stronger, deeper, and forged by everything they’d been through.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Ochako slid her hand into Toga’s, squeezing it gently. “Next time, maybe you can surprise me, too.”

Toga’s smile softened, just a bit. “I think I already have.”

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆..⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆..⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆..⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚

/) /) ~ ┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓ ( •-• ) ~ ♡ requests are highly recommended! /づづ ~ ┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

made for lovely @hawksdoll

[heyidkyay]

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Eleven

A/n: Didnt get much sleep, kept thinking about this fic and so I spent most of last night writing and decided to finish it up once I got home this eveninggg, hope it's up to standard x

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, food, touch of angst but when is there not with these two?

Masterlist

--

I was guilt ridden.

I couldn’t help it. The sight of George leaving practically had me wanting to jump out of my seat simply to chase after him. I felt like such a bitch for even entertaining the idea of Sam, with him being sat right there beside me. Especially with us only just having reconnected.

I felt my heart shrivel up more and more the longer he was gone.

Matty’s giant huff retrieved me from my pool of culpability after a while, his eyes drifting between us. 

“Guess, I’ll go talk to him then.” He murmured as he pushed up out of the booth. He was gone before anyone else could even think to make an offer. Leaving only Ross and I to remain.

I chewed on the inside of my mouth, unable to do much else as a pair of claws dug their way into my mind. Ross took the moment to slide into George’s empty seat across from me, falling into my direct line of sight.

“You ever been broken up with?” I found myself asking him just as a few more people entered the restaurant. They created a little more noise which drowned out our conversation to anyone sat close by.

Ross pressed his lips together, clasped hands coming to rest on the tabletop between us. “Yeah? Think you’ve even been witness to a few.”

He quirked a smile over at me, probably in hopes to ebb some of the lingering tension, and I really tried to mimic it. If only to placate him.

I let go of the breath I'd been holding on to, looking at him properly now. “Alright, have you ever had a relationship like G and I's?”

Ross seemed to come up short at that and I watched him tilt his head ever so slightly to the left whilst he thought the unexpected question over.

After a moment he shook it, jutting his lip out as he shrugged at me. “Can’t say that I have. Seen it though, like with my mum and dad, Hann and Carls.”

I dipped my chin, gaze falling down to where my fingers were playing with a groove indented in the stained wood table. 

“I remember when I first met him, you know. G. He really didn’t like Matty.” I chuckled under my breath, recalling it all so vividly. “And Matt he’d been my best friend for ages, we’d always been proper close. And with something like that, there always comes this unspoken sort of code. Like there's a written rule that you automatically have to hate someone if they didn’t like your best mate. That sort of thing.”

Ross was nodding away at me, listening quietly.

“But George.” I sighed, “I couldn’t help but admire him you know? Matty’s always been this trapped ball of energy, and back then he’d always been looking for some sort of argument to start. It eased those nerves that were always there, I think. But G, he was gentle but so unafraid. He didn’t care that Matty was ‘Matty’, popular and well liked by everyone. He reckoned he was a proper twat and called him on it.”

Both Ross and I laughed then, probably both thinking back on the past. On the early days, before the band had properly formed.

“And when Matty roped him in as a drummer, I let myself become more aware of his presence. And we got close. Especially when Matty realised that girls had tits and would probably let him touch them if he was funny or charmin' enough. George was much less interested in all that. He was quiet, stoic. Mysterious. But I’d been quick in deducing him. I reckon he liked that, someone who didn’t comment on his silence, or call him out for being shy. ‘Cause he wasn’t.

“And looking back, I can see now that G was always more aware of things than what he made it seem. Like with my life at home- how he’d only ever be allowed over when mum was out, or how I always made you lot wait for me at the bottom of the road before school instead of knocking. He was smart like that, perceptive, I ‘spose. And so he spent more and more time hanging around me, a bit like an annoying fly at first. I used to get proper miffed over it. Complain to Matty constantly, but he’d always just laugh me off and claim that George was just an admirer. Harmless. And so I stopped talking to him about it and just let G tag along when and where he pleased.

“Don’t know when, but a little while after that I started to lean on him a bit. More than I should've. Reckon I wasn’t even aware of it though 'til it was too late. 'Til I realised how I felt. I depended on him always being there. And in the time we’d been together- and yes, I'm definitely counting the days when we used to run circles around each other, too scared to say anything- he’d just become my person, you know? He was my truth in a world full of lies.”

I exhaled slowly, the sound as heavy as it felt. Ross was watching me again, I don’t think he’d actually looked away in the time I’d spent talking, and so when he took my hands in his I sent a teary smile his way. Sniffing and unable to help myself.

“When he ended things.” I had to shake my head, still finding it hard to talk about even months later. “I questioned everything. Just kept on asking myself what'd happened, agonising over what I’d done wrong. Why he’d just leave out of nowhere. ‘Cause that’s honestly how it felt. One day we were fine, laughing, kissing,  just happy. And then the next… he was telling me he couldn’t do it anymore, that he was headed out to LA to work on the next album and wanted to explore his options.”

I had to pause then, breath hitching. Ross’s grip tightened, as though he could sense all the hurt I was holding back at having to utter the next words I was about to say. 

“He claimed he loved me, just that- he wasn’t in love with me. Not anymore.”

The choked sob that slipped from my lips was followed by a self depreciating chuckle and I had to pull away from Ross’s hold to wipe at my eyes.

“God, I’m sorry.” I sniffed to him, trying to smile even though my heart was well and truly broken.

Ross shook his head, leaning in closer to reassure me. “No need to be sorry. Just wish I’d’ve known how much it messed you up.”

His voice was small, soothing. I focused on it, on him. Just breathing. In and out. 

“Honestly?" He continued on, "I’d always figured that it’d been mutual. That you’d both sort of wanted to take a bit of a break, see what you’d missed out on having been together so long. But, this… if I’d known, I swear would’ve-”

Ross clenched his teeth, his hands fisted, and I had to laugh, because if I didn't I'd cry. I reached out to lay a hand over his.

“It’s fine, Ross.” I told him sincerely, “Well, it isn’t. But things happen, don’t they? And soon enough, I’ll be fine too.”

—MATTY’S POV—

Stepping out into the evening chill, Matty’s eyes were immediately drawn to the hunched figure that sat on the curb. He drew his cigarette pack from his coat pocket as he made his way on over, noting how George seemed to be toggling with his lighter.

“Thought you came out here for a fag?” Matty commented, making an ‘ah’ sort of sound when he perched down beside the drummer, both legs pulled in towards his chest. He plucked a cigarette from his own carton, tucking it behind his ear, and then took another between his fingers, letting it dangle there from the hand he’d rested on the jut of his knee. Just on the seams of George’s peripheral. 

George didn’t say much. Merely flicked his lighter closed. It was an old metal one he’d had since forever, one Matty often saw him fiddling with, whether it was on the bus, before a set, or alone in his bunk. In recent months it’d made more of an appearance.

Matty made a small movement of his wrist and that was all it took before George was taking the offered cigarette from him. The drummer raised it to his lips and lit it with an expert sort of ease. Matty followed and the two of them allowed the driving cars to pass them by.

On an inhale, Matty had finally had enough of the silence. But he supposed that with George he’d sort of just gotten used to it, to them communicating with the odd smile or pained expression. This wasn’t one of those times.

“You gonna say summat then? Or you just gonna keep being miserable?” He pushed, rolling his head over towards his mate. He wasn't about to let the whole thing go. Not without a reason. “‘Cause, if I remember rightly, you’re the one who wanted to tag along. I told you she’d be here, didn’t I? Said it'd be hard, awkward. But you still came-”

He was cut off then.

“Yeah, I know.” George interrupted, though he seemed to be doing an awful lot of that tonight. “Thanks for the reminder, yeah? But if you’re just gonna bitch, can you do it elsewhere?”

Matty made a face. He’d almost forgotten how much of a moody git the bastard could be. “Nah, fine here, thanks. Wanna know what that was all about though, in there.”

George went for another drag, continuing the staring competition he’d started with the off-licence opposite.

“G, come on, man. Why you acting like such an arse? Nothing even happened.”

George scoffed. “Hm, didn’t seem that way.”

Matty fought the urge to clap the twat on the back of his head. “Mate, you ended things with her. Not the other way round. You ain’t got the right to act all pissy about some lad flirting with her.”

“You think I don’t know that?” George spat back, smoke clouding him, hazing in the frigid air around them. “Still fucking hurts though.”

There was a long pause then as Matty took his words in. Confused, he stubbed out his butt on the curb's edge and pivoted towards him.

“What’s that meant to mean?”

George’s eyes closed and he released a drawn out breath. Matty observed him, seeing the tension that lined his jaw and hunched his shoulders, the slight hollow of his face that gave way to the fact that he was chewing on the insides of his cheeks, the way his fingers twitched and a frail ember fluttered towards the ground, dying on the roadside.

Matty realised how much of a prat he'd been. Wondered how he hadn't seen it sooner.

“You still love her.” Matty breathed out into the unanswered silence, his surprise evident.

George turned his face away.

“You still love her, don’t you?” He pressed further, forearms now on his knees to brace himself as he leant in closer. “G. Answer me.”

George’s free hand shot up to rub at his eyes, then at the bridge of his nose. He flicked the remnants of his cigarette away and hastily made his way to his feet. Matty was quick to follow, frowning as the two of them got caught in a standstill. He grabbed hold of George’s arm just before the drummer could turn away from him. Shut him out again, like he’d been doing so effortlessly for the past few months.

“Don’t swan away like nothing’s happened. Answer me, man. Do you or do you not still love her?”

George’s eyes were shining under the streetlamp, his emotions only further illuminated by the oncoming headlights of a string of cars. His face said it all, but Matty had to know, to hear him say it.

“Of course I fucking do.” George laughed pitifully, shaking his head before he glanced up towards the sky. “How could I not?”

—

Matty returned a short while later, alone. I peered over his approaching shoulder for any signs of the moody drummer but was left unfulfilled.

Thankfully Ross was the one to ask the burning question I was dying to know.

“Where’s G?”

An explosive sigh fell from Matty’s lips as he resettled himself in the booth. “Went home. Wanted an early night.”

My heart plummeted. Shattering on the floor by my feet once more, after having been held by the one and only George Daniel again.

“Oh yeah?” Ross hummed conspiratorially, but Matty was saved from his probing the minute dessert arrived, alongside Sam.

“A sundae and tiramisu for the bearded fella. Then for the artsy bloke, one hot chocolate.” Sam charmed as he handed out our order. His eyes fell on me next, his grin warm as he passed me my plate. “And a sweet brownie for the sweetheart in black.”

I smiled and thanked him softly. Blushing lightly at the comment, which was new for me.

After I’d plopped the plate down, I caught sight of Matty’s slight scowl when his flicking of the sugar sachets drew my attention. Ross thanked Sam profusely for the sweet treats and the man merely chuckled at him in amusement.

“Cheers. Can we get the bill now?” Matty said offhandedly, not even sparing Sam the courtesy of a glance and only further drowning the mood by acting all pissy.

“Um," Sam mumbled out, hesitant, but then he carried on like nothing was a bother. "No worries, mate. I’ll send it on over now.” He looked at me once more before he backed away.

“What’s with you?” I asked Matty quietly, Ross lost to his tray of desserts.

“Just tired.” Was all he said, shrugging the question off, “You alright?”

Matty seemed to perk up a little then, swivelling in his chair to better see me.

I didn’t really know how to answer him so instead I toyed with one of the serviettes.

“Is there any real way to answer that?” I laughed defeatedly, “I mean, I don’t know, Matty. Why'd you even bring him with you in the first place?”

“He’s our mate.” Matty quipped in a strange defensive tone, one I reeled back from slightly, and he must’ve noticed because he slumped away too, opting to swirl the marshmallow’s floating in his drink around. “Just, he’s having a hard time of it too.”

I scoffed, turning away.

“No really.” Matty was quick to iterate to me, I shrugged off the hand that came to rest on my shoulder. 

“What’s he got to feel crap about? I bet he’s been living it up large out in LA, fucking models, dating other musicians. Free from the likes of me.”

Matty frowned but it was Ross who jerked a long spoon over at me. I raised a brow.

“You keep mentioning LA, but… G’s not been to LA once since the split. Tour’s been in Europe and before that, he’d been kipping on my sofa.”

I blinked. Suddenly baffled.

“What?”

Ross just nodded though, seemingly unaware of my frail state. “Yeah, was gonna ask earlier but well, you know. Then you said it again and I had to ask.”

“Hang on, wait a sec. What has he been doing the last six months then if he's not been in LA?” 

I pitted the question towards the both of them. They were his bandmates, they were all extremely close with one another in the very weirdest but best sort of way. If anyone knew what George had been up to, it’d be them.

“Well?”

Matty and Ross appeared to share a look between them but before I could intercept it, Matty answered me.

“I think this is a conversation best left for him, love.”

My mouth worked to say a word or two, to argue, but I could only stare at him.

My entire world had been thrown off balance. Six months had been and gone, and the entire time George had been living just around the corner. LA had been a lie, moving on had been a lie, I couldn’t fathom it. He’d actually lied to me. The only person I’d ever counted on to tell me the truth without fail. And he’d lied, right to my face. 

I sat back in the booth. Head reeling.

I had to ask myself, what else had he been lying about?

—

I don’t know how or why. But for some reason or other, I’d ended up outside a house I didn’t recognise.

It was just on the outskirts of Hampstead, a two-storey town house with a small gated front garden and a white stoop. I blinked up at it, unsure on whether the directions Ross had given me were even right. But no, here I was stood outside number 12. And I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this.

Before I could lose my nerve I quickly slipped past the iron wrought gate and up the steps. Berating myself all the while, but unable to stop my feet. 

One of the upstairs lights were on, so I could only assume that someone had to be home, which only fuelled my nerves. But I swallowed thickly and let my fingertips reach out to grasp the knocker, letting it ring out twice.

I had to take a step back. Actually, I’d almost jumped back in my haste to do so, and was quick to save myself from falling down the flight I’d just climbed, breathing heavily at the sudden scare.

I knew my anxiety was palpable, so much so I was actually starting to feel hot even in the cold, but I chose to wrap my arms further around myself anyway to keep the wind from nipping at my skin and to hopefully ground myself some more.

Nervous was the farthest thing from how I felt, as a matter of fact I don’t think anyone had yet to come up with an adjective to describe the torment I was internally facing. And as I waited, it only seemed to grow. Festering beneath the surface.

I startled slightly at the sound of the door’s hinges and my eyes snapped up to meet his in the dim light. Thankfully, George only looked surprised to see me, but I wasn’t too sure how long that would last. 

He stepped a tad out to cast a glance down at the rest of the street before his gaze zeroed in on me again. “How're you even here?”

“Ross.” I shrugged, toeing the tiles outside his front door in my highly strung state.

George huffed out a small, very subtle chuckle. I watched him for a moment, seeing how he’d propped himself up in the doorway, eyes moving as he thought things over for a second.

I swallowed again and cleared my throat, bringing him back to the present. Seeing as I was still stuck outside and it was still freezing. “Um, can I come in then?”

He seemed to remember himself, blinking before he hurried to wave me inside. “Yeah, yeah ‘course.”

I dipped my head at him and gave him a tiny brief smile as I stepped over the threshold. Somewhat grateful for the warmth the hallway gave me when he shut the door behind us.

I felt rather out of place in that next moment. As though I was overstepping, trespassing into the life he’d built without me. Still, I let my eyes wander, taking in the narrow hallway.

A tall coat cupboard was kept opposite, and he had a pretty trinket bowl on top of the radiator cover he seemed to be using as an entrance side-table. A couple pairs of shoes littered the wooden floors just before the staircase and I could just make out the beginnings of a kitchen table at the end of the walkway even in the dark.

George spoke first, “You can hang your coat up if you want.”

Apparently, he was just as bad at hiding how he felt about all this too. Nervous and unsure as he nodded over towards the cupboard. I followed his suggestion and slipped my jacket off, leaving me in the thin long-sleeved tee I’d thrown on that morning. I silently prayed that it had no noticeable stains or anything, unable to remember on whether or not I’d picked it up out of the clean pile of washing. I tugged at my sleeve.

“Um, you just caught me rolling.” George then mentioned, gesturing upwards. “You wanna follow me up?”

I hurried to nod at the question and kicked off my boots, then up we went, the stairs creaking beneath our shared weight.

The house was mostly empty. I noticed that only a sparse number of pictures littered the place, all of them simply standing instead of mounted to the walls. I saw myself in one or two, but those were just of the five of us, or other group photos. None of just him and I. There were also no posters in sight. Though George had a few ornaments to offer his guests, most of which I recognised, but even then they were placed wherever; a giraffe wearing sunglasses waited at the top of the stairs and a couple of awards took up space on the landing’s shelf as we made our way past.

There were four doors up here, two of which were closed, one that revealed a spacious bathroom, and the last that George led me into. I supposed to most it would’ve been used as another bedroom or an office of sorts, but George had turned it into a studio. 

The walls had been padded with soundproof squares and it housed a large table that had been crammed with a deck as well as other essentials such as a mixing board and a dozen other things I couldn’t begin to name.

A sofa took up the far wall, softened by a bundle of blankets and pillows that reminded me of mornings when I’d wake up to find George fast asleep on the settee after he’d been up producing all night. 

His trusty laptop was on the end of it, alongside a pair of headphones, newer than the last one’s I’d seen him with. He had a fridge up here too and I didn’t even need to open it to know what it was stocked with. 

In the centre of the room though, there was a square coffee table. It appeared sort of antique, mid-century maybe what with the tiled top and dark wood. It was pretty, very George. It was also very much like George to be using it to roll his joints. I withheld a snort.

“Um, you can just sit anywhere.” The man who plagued my thoughts said then, picking up an empty cider can and tossing it into the bin before he moved to fix the sofa up for me. 

So that’s where I ended up, on the end just by the window whilst George shuffled his things around so that he could roll and talk to me at the same time. He ended up tossing a cushion onto the rug covered floor beside the coffee table a foot away from my socked feet. I pulled them up under me to give him more space.

“You left.” I said to fill the quiet which had enveloped us, but my words sounded loaded even to my own ears. So I hurried to explain, “I just, I mean- you left without saying goodbye is all.”

George’s eyes were on his papers and the small bag he held but I knew that his attention was on me. He licked at his lower lip, then nodded once. “Was tired, long day and that.”

I hummed, fiddling with the cushion I’d since pulled into my lap. “Matty mentioned that you wanted an early night. Wasn’t sure if I’d be waking you to be honest.”

I was laying out a trap and we both knew it.

“You know how I get. Got in and sleep felt like the last thing on my mind.” George shrugged, crumbling away now as he lined the paper.

I narrowed my eyes at him, not that he was aware of it. “So it wasn’t ‘cause of the bad mood you were in?”

He pursed his lips, he didn’t like being called out so blatantly. Even so he still wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Didn’t think you’d even notice to be honest.” 

I knew then that he was talking about the waiter and had to bite back the sarky response that poisoned the tip of my tongue.

“Pretty hard no to.” I murmured instead, glancing down towards the cushion to avoid seeing him look so unbothered by me.

I took the second to calm myself, lessening the hurricane my mind often span itself into before I took a deep breath and chanced a look back up at him. His joint had since been rolled and I berated myself for having missed it, it was one of my favourite pastimes, watching him roll.

George though, he held it in his lap now, waiting to be lit whilst he set his eyes on me.

My heart started to pound and I was honestly left feeling a tad worried for it, seeing as it’d really been through the wringer these last few days. But his eyes were on me and how could it not react to that?

“What about that other lad?”

I raised my eyebrows over at him, “What, Sam?”

He turned away, nose wrinkling somewhat as he reached across the table for his lighter. It was the metal one I’d gifted him more than a decade ago now. One that had formally belonged to my dad. A massive part of me wanted to reach out for it, to touch and make sure it was the very same. But I didn’t dare. I was just surprised to note that he’d kept it this long, let alone after the split. 

I hadn’t thought about it in forever.

I swallowed past the many feelings the sight of the lighter had roused, and formed another reply for him. One that might get him to answer me.

“He was just that, George. Another lad.” I looked down at him, watched as he sparked the lighter to start a flame and brought it to his lips.

“Seemed pretty keen.”

I wanted to groan at his indifferent responses. Had he always been this difficult? This dense?

“Yeah well, you seem pretty jealous for someone who supposedly doesn't care.” I sniped back, unable to help that one.

George’s jaw tightened but he inhaled and it loosened a fraction as a breath of smoke pooled from his mouth. He didn’t offer me a reply.

I huffed. Then moved from my seated position, reaching out across the room to steal the joint from between his lips. It was his next movement that stopped me short, he took hold of my wrist and dragged me closer. My eyes widened and I wondered if he was even aware of the proximity he’d created. 

“What’s this?” His brow had fallen into a deep furrow now as he looked my injured finger over, resting the lit joint in a nearby ashtray just as I slowly brought myself down to my knees.

I was a little startled by the change in pace, to be truthful. And so I didn’t have many words to give him. I seemed to snap out of it though when his dark eyes darted up to meet mine. He raised a brow. 

“Work.” I told him quietly, “Pair of scissors, it was an accident.”

“Deep?” George questioned me, I shrugged. “You take care of it?” I nodded at him. “Properly?”

I forced out a depleted chuckle, “Yes. Delia did. Cleaned it up nice and proper for me. Reckoned it didn’t even need stitches.”

He was already picking at the plaster before he even asked, “Can I take a look?”

I attempted to pull my hand away, but he just held on tighter and deadened his expression, not entirely pleased. How had we gone from walking on eggshells around each other to this?

“Why? I told you it’s fine!” I reasoned with him, but he merely blinked back at me. I sighed. “Alright, but only if you have something to cover it back up with. Blood makes me-”

“Squirmy.” George finished for me and I shivered at the thought. He shook his head but I was sure I’d seen the tiniest of smirks. “And I do. A box of plasters from where I sliced up my hand the other week.”

He released my hand just as my face fell into a pensive frown and went to stand.

“How’d you slice your hand?” I asked him, raising my voice so that he could hear me better as he puttered out of the room and towards the bathroom I’d seen.

“Cooking!” George called back and my frown only deepened.

“Cooking?” I murmured to myself, baffled or bewildered I wasn’t sure. In all the time I’d known George not once had I been witness to him in the kitchen. He could hardly even brew a semi-decent tea!

I listened to him moving things around in his search for the plasters, but he was back before I knew it. Only, he seemed to pause for a split second at the sight of me sat near the coffee table, as though he’d forgotten where he’d left me.

“Found ‘em?”

My question set him back in motion and he gave a jerky nod, though he was more warier of his movements when he retook his previous position on the cushion. He motioned for me to hold out my hand and I did so, lips pursing as he peeled away the previous tape.

“Ooh, that’s a pretty sight.” George hissed quietly through his teeth, looking the wound over.

I only stretched to glance at it briefly when he said that, having been rather content with turning the other cheek whilst he got a proper look at it. It was grim to say the least. The middle still clotted with dry blood, its edges white and pale.

“Oh! Fuck.” I grimaced at the sight, darting my eyes away quick as I could. “Is it really that bad?”

George’s light titter danced around the room, I felt his thumb brush against the skin near the cut and had to withhold another shiver. “It’s a bit deep but you were right about not needing any stitches. Though, if you’d’ve gone to A&E they’d’ve probably glued it shut.”

“So it'll scar?” I found myself asking and George’s hesitant pause gave me my answer. “It’s fine," I said, "not as though I’ve not got any others.”

The sound of the box drew my attention back over to him, though I was mindful to keep my eyes from looking at my finger again. He was fiddling with the box now, trying to release a plaster with his free hand instead of just making things easier for himself and simply letting go of my hand to grab at it. I didn’t comment on it though, letting him do as he pleased whilst I angled myself closer to reach for his smouldering joint.

His gaze found mine just as I brought it to my lips, inhaling slowly. I gave him an impish grin when I caught him, “Waste not want not, right? Besides it’ll help keep my mind off of the pain.”

George snorted, still watching me thought he’d gotten a plaster free. “What pain? You big baby.”

I narrowed my eyes and took another drag, holding it out towards him once he’d ripped the plaster from its seal by using his teeth. He appeared grateful for it.

“What’s sanitary about that?” I asked.

He merely chuckled in retort, eyes honed in on my cut now. His hold on my hand was firm but careful, and he was so very gentle with me, especially when he dragged his thumb across the back of the plaster to adhere it.

I put the joint back in the ashtray then, scared I’d do something stupid like drop it on George’s nice rug or choke on my next inhale. Even more so when my breathing stuttered the moment he brought his lips to my hand to kiss its palm.

“Alright, you're good to go.” George told me quietly, glancing up at me then through dark lashes. I struggled to regulate my heartbeat. Christ, the poor thing.

I swallowed instead, pulling my hand away when he dropped his stare and started to round up the plaster’s scraps. 

Coughing faintly into the back of my wrist, I went to move back to where I’d been sat previously, the sofa looking much larger now that I knew I’d be sitting on it alone again.

“Erm, forgot to ask if you wanted anything. A drink maybe?” George mentioned, breaking the silence.

I looked about the space, not sure why but perhaps simply for something to do. “Yeah, uh sure. What’ve you got?”

George’s mouth quirked to one side and I watched as he moved over towards the fridge to pull a can out of its bottom drawer. I shook my head at the familiar sight of a Diet Coke in his hand.

“Ta.” I chuckled, taking it from him when he extended an arm out towards me.

“Always have ‘em in there. Not sure why, no one really drinks them. Force of habit maybe.”

He shrugged it off like it was nothing but I couldn’t do the same, for some reason he still bought my favourite drink to fill his fridge with.

It made me wonder what else he might still pick up whilst shopping, if he ever thought of us arguing over the types of milk when he walked through the dairy aisle. Or if he stopped by the strawberries on the way in, debating over whether or not to pick them up seeing as I was the only one who ever seemed to eat them. Though, he claimed they were his favourite.

I realised that I’d been looking at the can for far too long, the chill from the fridge causing it to perspire and produce water droplets which clung to my hand.

“You still with me, Birdie?” George mocked, stubbing out whatever remained of his joint, though I did note the faint waft of smoke that now lingered around him.

“Yeah.” I answered, shaking away my thoughts and went to return to the sofa. Only, I couldn’t bring myself to.

George’s face changed when I dropped back to the floor, though it was only for a moment, and then he was padding over to join me, tossing another cushion my way. It was a silent gesture but one that had me smiling.

“So, why’re you here really?”

I hadn’t expected him to be so blunt about it, but he’d reclaimed his seat, arms wrapped around the knee he’d since pulled into his chest, and was surveying my reaction.

I shrugged. “Truth?”

The look on his face was well worth the sting of the icy knife that pierced its way through my chest from using that word.

Liar. My heart wanted to scream. My mouth struggling not to accuse him of all the things I’d learnt tonight.

“Truth.” George whispered back to me.

“I want to know what really happened.”

George’s brow pinched, he inclined his head. “What do you mean? When what happened?”

My eyes met his straight on. There was no worming our way out of this.

“The night you finished with me. I want to know what really happened.”

Part twelve>

[beelsnack]

The Seaweed Is Always Greener - Azul Ashengrotto x MC (Commission for Mariahmaru)

My first commission in a while!! Thank you for commissioning me @mariahmaru!! Mai was a pleasure to write.

Interested in commissioning me?? All my info is here!!

There's smut beneath the cut, beware!

Azul Ashengrotto prided himself on being a gentleman. 

One catches more flies with honey than vinegar, and his strength lied in his ability to get people to see his way. So he made it a point to be charming, complimentary, and overall an agreeable person to be around.

But he was also a very, very jealous man.

Nothing could force his pleasant mask to slip quicker than someone laying their dirty fins on something that he considered his, and Floyd was a few seconds away from having Azul’s hands around his throat.

“Hey, hey, Angelfishie~” Floyd placed his palms flat on the table to practically lean over it, nearly elbowing Jade in the face in the process. “You like sushi, right?”

Azul was sitting close enough to Mai in the booth that the four of them were sat at that he could feel her lean back ever-so-slightly at Floyd’s sudden closeness. “Um, yes, I do. Why?”

“The sushi here is the best,” Floyd said with a wide grin. “I’ll share mine with you.”

This whole thing had been Floyd’s idea. Since he, quote, “was sick of only seeing Jade’s face,” he had suggested that the four of them meet up and grab dinner to catch up. Both Azul and Mai had a tendency to get wrapped up in their own work, so going out for a night would probably do the two of them some good. But now, Azul was starting to regret agreeing to the outing.

“Isn’t it a little strange for mermen to eat sushi?” Mai tapped her knuckle to her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I mean, it seems awfully close to cannibalism.”

“No different than you eating pork, though~” Floyd giggled. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get sushi just because you were afraid of offending the merfolk!”

“Well…” Mai shrugged sheepishly. “Kind of?”

“Aw, come on!” Floyd picked up a piece of sushi between his thumb and forefinger - he gave up on the chopsticks about five minutes into the meal. “Don’t deprive yourself on our account! Right, Azul?”

Azul blinked, caught off guard at suddenly being included in the conversation. “Um,” he cleared his throat. “Go on, Mai, no need to make a deal out of it.”

“Well, now,” Jade chuckled. “I never thought I would hear those words come out of your mouth, Azul. You do love your deals.”

“Shut up, you know that isn’t what I meant.”

“Angelfishie~” Floyd whined, jabbing the sushi in Mai’s direction. “Do you want it or not?”

“Oh, sure, thank you, Floyd,” Mai smiled, reaching down for her plate so Floyd could place the piece of sushi on it. Floyd, however, seemed to have other plans.

“Say ah~”

“Huh?”

“No, ‘ah!’” Floyd brought the sushi closer to Mai’s mouth, giggling. Mai’s eyebrows shot up until they disappeared into her auburn bangs, and she leaned back even further into the booth. 

“Um, just on my plate is fine, Floyd, thank you.”

“Hmph,” Floyd plopped back down into his seat with a pout, plopping the piece of sushi down onto the corner of Mai’s plate. “You’re no fun at all, Angelfishie.”

“Floyd, behave yourself,” Jade chided, although he looked distinctly entertained as well. Azul knew he was red enough to rival one of Riddle’s beloved roses, and, judging by how Jade was looking at him with an expression of amusement mixed with concern, it was obvious. Which, honestly, was pretty on track for any interaction involving Floyd.

Seeing that he wasn’t going to get a reaction from Mai, Floyd seemed to settle down and the rest of the meal passed in relative peace. Azul tried to keep his temper in check, but Floyd’s little stunt had him riled up, and as soon as the conversation began to lull, he called the server over for the check.

“I have to get up early tomorrow, businesses don’t run themselves,” he replied when Jade regarded him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Aw, and here I was going to suggest we go get drinks!” Floyd turned to Mai. “Do you want to come with us while the old man takes his nap, Angelfishie?”

Azul found himself gripping the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Floyd, what do you think -”

“I’ll have to pass tonight,” Mai reached for her bag sitting next to her. “I start early too. It was so good seeing the two of you, though, we’ll have to do this again sometime.”

The formal, slightly cool tone to Mai’s voice was reassuring, but Azul still found himself having to clear his throat before he could speak. “Yes, boys, it’s been a pleasure.”

“Aw, okay, fine,” Floyd grinned. “Bye-bye!”

“Get home safe, you two,” Jade smiled warmly at Azul and Mai as he stood. Floyd followed suit, waving to Mai as the two of them left the restaurant. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic, but Azul made it a point to keep a hand at Mai’s elbow as they left, as well as holding the door open.

Mai huffed slightly as she plopped down into the passenger seat of their car. “Well, that was…something.”

“Hm, indeed,” Azul grumbled. “Floyd always did know how to push buttons.”

The ride home was thankfully short, only about ten minutes, but it was quite the quiet journey. Azul didn’t seem keen on talking, and Mai had never been one to force conversation. He wasn’t doing a very good job at keeping his irritation hidden, though. He kept drumming his fingers along the steering wheel, and Mai knew that if he wasn’t currently driving he would be bouncing his leg up and down. When she glanced over to him when they were stopped at the red light right before turning onto their street, she could tell that he was worrying at the inside of his cheek. 

“Azul?” Mai spoke gently as she locked the front door behind them. “Are you upset about Floyd?”

For a moment, Azul was silent, plucking imaginary lint off of the purple silk button down he was wearing. Then, he sighed. “His behavior was entirely inappropriate. You would have been well within your rights to tell him off.”

“I’m pretty sure he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. Or me.” Mai walked over to him, smoothing out the wrinkle he made in his shirt with his fussing. “He could have been trying to get a rise out of Jade for all we know. There’s no way he was being serious.”

“That doesn’t make it any less annoying,” Azul countered. “Or insulting.”

“There’s no point in giving Floyd what he wants when he isn’t even here,” Mai laughed, bringing her other arm up to wrap loosely around Azul’s shoulders. “What do you want?”

“What I want?” Azul hummed, placing his hands on Mai’s hips and giving them a loving squeeze. “Well, I believe all I want is right here.”

“Smooth,” Mai giggled, leaning forward and placing her lips against Azul’s. She only meant for it to be a quick peck, but when she tried to back away, Azul’s grip in her hips tightened and he pulled her closer.

She made a small noise in the back of her throat as Azul walked the two of them backwards. Her back hit the wall with a soft thump, and Azul was crowding her against it. The kiss had quickly gone from chaste to passionate, and Mai found herself melting into it. Her hands wove themselves into Azul’s silver hair, twisting strands around her fingers as Azul worked his lips against hers.

They parted only when they physically needed air, and Azul found himself staring at himself reflected in Mai’s wide light-brown eyes. He found himself overwhelmed by just how fortunate he was to have ended up with her, and it felt like an ocean’s worth of love had welled up in his chest, threatening to spill over.

“Azul?” she murmured, lips barely a centimeter away from his. “What are you thinking?”

“I…” he stammered for a second before his shoulders relaxed. No need to keep up appearances here, when it was just the two of them. “I’m so lucky that I’m part of your world.”

The corner of Mai’s lips tilted upward and she leaned her head forward so that their foreheads were touching. “You’re so sappy sometimes.”

“Sorry,” Azul hummed, tapping his fingers idly where they still rested on her hips. “I can’t help it.”

They both surged forward at the same time, lips meeting in a rather uncoordinated fashion. It was suddenly like they needed each other like a fish needs water. Azul pressed impossibly closer, and Mai could feel the stirrings of something in his trousers.

“Oh,” she gasped. “Want to move to the bedroom?”

“Well, it would be more comfortable than the entry hall, that’s for certain.”

As soon as the door to their bedroom shut behind them, Mai was unbuttoning Azul’s shirt. Or, well, trying to. Her fingers were fumbling over one of the middle buttons, and she was very quickly getting frustrated. With a soft chuckle, Azul placed his hands over hers. “Let me help you, my pearl.”

“I wanted to be sexy,” Mai huffed as Azul quickly undid the buttons and tossed the shirt to the side.

“I can think of a few other ways for you to be sexy,” he purred, fingers dancing along the hem of her blouse. Color bloomed high along her cheeks, but she let him lift her shirt over her head to expose her bra. Even after years together, she still got self-conscious about her boyfriend seeing her naked.

As if he could read her thoughts - or maybe just her face, she never had been good at hiding her feelings - Azul leaned down to press their foreheads together again. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, leaning in to peck her lips affectionately. “Never doubt that.”

Something akin to embarrassment squirmed in her belly, but she managed to tamp it down and returned the kiss as her hands wandered to the button on his slacks. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered back before quickly shedding himself of his clothes. Mai followed suit and soon the two of them were sprawled across their unmade bed. It was a few moments of chaos, with limbs tangled together and Mai getting her foot caught in her panties before finally managing to fling them off into the void, but none of that mattered. Mai splayed her fingers across the width of Azul’s shoulder blades, relishing how his skin felt just a few degrees cooler against her own.

She sighed softly when she felt Azul’s fingers wander across her nipples. After all the times the two had been intimate together, he could play Mai’s body like a harp, and the sensations went straight to her core. Her sighs quickly turned into little moans, and she writhed her hips against Azul’s in an attempt to get some friction.

A surprised groan left her as Azul let one of his hands slide towards her opening. Short, thick fingers danced around her lower lips until dipping in. Experience led him right towards her clit, and the noises coming from Mai sped up as Azul began fingering her in earnest.

“Wet for me already, my pearl?” he hummed, a satisfied grin spreading across his face when Mai nodded frantically. “Are you ready for more?”

“Yes,” Mai breathed, hips bucking back and forth like she couldn’t decide if she needed for or less of the friction. “Please, ‘Zul, please…”

Azul had to bite his lip to keep from making unseemly noises as he took himself in hand, guiding his throbbing dick towards Mai’s entrance. “Mmf, fuck…” he muttered under his breath, gray eyes slipping closed as he inched his way in.

Hearing Azul curse was such a delightfully rare experience, and hearing it in response to how she made him feel did something to Mai. Something that he could feel, obviously, because he couldn’t fight back the moan that tore out of his throat as she clenched around him.

“Can…can I move?” he panted, hips twitching as he waiting for her to respond. Mai nodded, and that was all the signal he needed.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with their soft exclamations of pleasure as both of them chased their own high. Mai’s slightly uneven fingernails dug into the flesh of Azul’s back, and Azul was gripping the sheets beside her head so hard that she thought they were going to come off of the bed. 

“I’m close…!” Azul breathed. “My precious pearl, I’m so close…touch yourself for me, please…”

Mai brought her hand from where it had been gouging Azul’s shoulder down to her clit, rubbing furiously in an attempt to line up their climaxes. Honestly, it was difficult to tell if they were aligned or if one finished before the other, but it hardly mattered in the end. Mai arched off the bed with a shout, and Azul moaned long and low in his throat as the two of them reached their orgasms.

The two laid like that for a few moments before Azul slowly pulled out, landed unceremoniously beside her and resting his head on her still heaving chest.

“Mm,” Mai hummed, combing her clean hand through Azul’s mussed-up silver locks. “That was intense. Should I thank Floyd?”

“Don’t you dare.”

[so-much-for-stardust6]

First Date- 50s Cillian Murphy x Reader

kinda rushed it so i can post again but i got 0 energy

lowercase intended

might be spelling mistakes, didn’t re-read it

warning: smut

summary: it’s your first date with cillian but it doesn’t go as plan. what happens for the rest of the date?

i spritzed the perfume onto my body, inhaling the sweet scent. i was ready for my date. i was incredibly nervous as it was with the most gorgeous man i know, cillian murphy. i didn’t believe the rumors of him liking me until he asked me out. i was slipping on my shoes when i heard the doorbell ring, he’s here. i panic and quickly shove my feet inside my mary janes as i hear my mother answer the door.

“oh hello cillian!” her cheery voice rang out.

i finished and ran to my door and swung it open, catching their attentions. cillian’s mouth slightly drops open but he quickly composed himself.

“y/n…you look so beautiful.” his accent sending shivers down my spine.

“thank you, cillian…you look handsome.” i compliment back.

“well, go enjoy yourself kids. don’t stay out too late.” my mother smiles at us.

“thank you, ma. love you.” i go and give her cheek a kiss.

“love you too, sweetie. have fun!” she told us as we began walking out.

“i’ll make sure of it.” cillian smiles, a type of smile that gives me goosebumps.

he opens my door for me, a small thank you leaving my lips. he waits until i was fully situated to close the door and get in himself. i watch his fingers start up the car, practically drooling over them.

“do you like mike’s diner?” he snaps me out of my trance.

“huh? oh yeah, i love that place.” the thought of a milkshake making me thirsty.

“perfect cause that’s where we’re going.” he begins driving to our date destination.

like always, it was crowded inside and out with other couples having date nights. i go to open my car door once he parked but he stopped my arm. i furrowed my eyebrows at his action, watching as he ran out the car and to my side. i chuckle to myself as he opened the door for me, such a gentleman.

“you’re so cute.” i blurted out.

now it’s his turn to chuckle to himself, a blush on his cheeks and probably on mine too.

“you’re cuter.” he flirts back.

he holds out his hand and i happily take it, his warmth making me shiver. this man does things to me. we walk hand in hand inside the crowded diner and to an empty booth.

“what are you gonna get?” he asks, eyeing the menu.

“hmmm, maybe a burger and fries. what about you?” i look up at him, meeting his eyes that were already on me.

i blush a little, hoping he doesn’t see. but his smirk makes me know he does.

“i’ll get a burger too. can i share fries with you? i know i won’t finish my own.”

“of course, i don’t mind.” he smiles at my response.

“you’re the best.”

a waitress then walks up to us, pen and notepad ready.

“what can i get you two lovebirds?” she chews on her bubblegum.

“i’ll get a burger with some fries.” i order.

“okay…and for you?” she turns to look at cillian.

“oh um, i’ll get a burger as well but no fries please.”

“simple order…anything to drink?”

“hey cil, do you like strawberry milkshakes?”

he looked a little surprised at my nickname for him but he nodded yes.

“great, one strawberry shake.”

“alrighty, i’ll go put your guys’ order in.” the waitress clicks her pen before walking away.

“wait, only one shake?” he questions.

“yeah, we’ll share.”

a bright smile quickly formed on his face at my words, his hands reaching over the table to hold mine. we talked and talked about life while waiting for our food. in the midst of our talking, a loud bang caused everyone’s heads to turn towards the door. we all watched as the football team bursted inside the calm diner, laughter and shouting ruining the mood.

“great…” cillian mumbled to himself.

i watch as the waitress began walking to our table, two plates and a milkshake in hand. the quarterback cat called her and watched her as well until his eyes landed on me. he winked at me and gave me a unsettling smirk. i gave him a face of disgust before i focus back on cillian, who’s already munching down on his food.

“is it good?” i joke.

“hm?” he hums, mouthful as he looks up at me.

i laugh at the sight, already feeling myself falling for him.

“delicious. try your burger.” he talked, mouthful.

i didn’t find it disrespectful but actually cute. i take my burger and bite into it, the flavor hitting the right spot.

“how are the fries.” i ask, mouthful as well.

i pick up a fry and put it up to his mouth. he accepted the item and began chewing away. he gave me a thumbs up before stealing more. we played around with our food, feeding fries to one another and sharing the strawberry shake. just as he was gonna feed me a fry, a figure interrupted us. i turn my head to look at the quarterback who’s staring deep into my eyes.

“may we help you?” cillian questioned.

“hey there sweet cheeks, my names thomas, what’s yours?” he smirks, looking me up and down.

i slowly cover myself up, uncomfortable by his eyes.

“none of your business, thomas. now leave us alone.” his name spat out of my mouth like venom.

“excuse me? you have no manners, missy. you can’t talk to me that way.” he leaned closer to me, my reaction being to scoot farther.

“hey man, leave her alone.” cillian butted in, standing up.

he was soon to be back in his seat as another player shoved him.

“hey!” i shout at the guy, unfortunately leaving an opportunity open for thomas.

he went to grab me but i scrambled away and kicked his leg. cillian shot back up, pushing off the other players to go and shove thomas away.

“i said leave her alone!” he kept shoving thomas, something he didn’t like.

that’s when thomas’ fist collided with cillian’s face, forcing him to the ground.

“cillian!” i scream out.

by now we obviously have everyone’s attention, the chefs making their way out the kitchen to help. i get out the booth and kneel down to cillian, his bloody face contorted with pain. i was forced up by my arm and became face to face with thomas. i mimicked the man’s action from earlier and collided my fist with his face. i heard gasping from all around the diner, surprised i punched him.

“what the fuck is wrong with you.” he tried to lunge at me but luckily the chefs held him back.

they began shouting at the team to leave but i wasn’t listening, i was too focused on cillian below me.

“come on, cil. let’s go.” i help him up, groaning coming from his busted lips.

i dug into my sock, pulling out some cash handing it to the waitress. i told her to keep the change. i led cillian to the passenger seat, snatching his keys from the jean pocket while i was at it. i hop into the driver’s seat, turning it on and driving back to my house. i noticed my mom’s car missing, she was probably at her book club.

“where are we?” i heard the beautiful man beside me.

“my house, cil. i’m gonna clean you up.”

i get out the car and went to his side, opening the door and helping him out. i shut it with my foot before leading the two of us inside. i opened the door with a hidden key on the porch, locking it again once we’re inside. getting upstairs was the hardest part but i managed to do it. i sat him down on my bed, his body falling backwards. i watched as he laid there, groaning out in pain. one punch did this to him, telling me he never got into fights. i knew he didn’t, he’s a good guy. i grabbed my first aid kit from my bathroom before returning back to him.

“i need you to sit up for me, okay?” he hummed a “uh-uh” in response.

i sighed, frustrated at his refusal for help. i then moved to sit in his lap, his eyes shooting open at the contact. my brain didn’t think, i just did it.

“wha-“

“i need to fix you. sit up.” he finally listened.

i didn’t hesitate to clean up the blood, the sounds of him wincing in pain filled the silence. he leaned back, hands holding him up as i perfectly sat in his lap. i thought nothing of it, the clueless part of me taking over. i also thought nothing of it when i’d adjust myself to get a better grip or view of his face when placing the bandaids on. but i finally did think once i felt something poking my inner thigh, something hard. he had his eyes shut closed so he didn’t see me look down, his apparent boner catching my gaze. my breathing hitched at the sight of him like this. i knew he couldn’t help it, i mean i was moving around on his lap. a small smirk appeared on my lips when an evil plan popped in my head. i slowly began rolling my hips, his eyes once again shooting open at the movement.

“what are you d-doing?” the poor man stuttered.

“i said i’m going to fix you. i’m doing just that.” my voice dripping like sweet candy.

his hands gripped my bedsheet tightly, like he was holding back.

“i-i-we can’t…”

“why not?”

“because i really like you. and-and i don’t wanna do this on our first date.” he admits.

i stop my movements and smile at him.

“i like you too, cillian. but this won’t ruin things, it’ll make them better. i promise. we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” i start to get off, worried i’m crossing a boundary but his clammy hands held onto my hips.

he slowly guided me back to his lap, placing me perfectly on top his erection. my dress exposing my most aching area, aching even more with desire for him.

“i want to.” his voice low.

i then kiss him, a shock of electricity going through my veins. my mind went fuzzy and blank as his kisses contaminated me. i felt like i was getting drunk off of him, off of his taste. my hands travelled to his head, one on his cheek while the other tugged at his hair. he moaned at the feeling of my fingers pulling his dark locks, igniting a feeling deep down inside of me. his fingers snaked their way to the back of my dress, tugging at the zipper.

“can i?” he mumbled against my lips.

“yes.” i breathed out.

he then swiftly pulled the metal down, the sound making my stomach turn more. my dress slowly fell off my shoulders, his hands feeling around for a bra but stopping when he realized i didn’t have one on. he slowly pulled away from me, watching as my boobs slowly came into view. he felt like a teenager again, going absolutely crazy at the sight. his eyes, now dark blue, looked up at me. he was asking for permission. i took one of my hands and grabbed his, leading it up to my boob. he moaned out as i placed his warm hand, his reflex being to squeeze. he continued to do just that, eventually his other hand going to do the same to the other. my head was thrown back, moans escaping my puffy lips.

“god, you’re so beautiful…” he whispered to himself before placing kisses to my chest.

“cil…please….” i gripped his shoulders.

he pulled away to take off his shirt, exposing his beautiful freckled skin. my fingers traced the marks, loving every single one of them.

“stunning…” i whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

he smiled brightly at me, heart beating fast at my reaction. he stood up, holding my legs around his waist as he flipped us around. my back now laid softly against my warm bedsheet, cillian towering over me.

“can i?” he grabbed a handful of my dress, desperate for more.

“yes….please.”

he began to push the fabric up, exposing my bare legs and eventually my soaked underwear. if it was possible, his eyes got darker at the sight of the wet spot. his fingers went to touch it but he stopped himself, looking back at me for permission. i got frustrated at his constant stopping.

“yes cillian! fuck, do anything to me. just-please touch me…” i cry out.

he didn’t waste any time at my words, putting pressure on my clit. i bit my lip, trying so hard not to loudly moan at this simple contact. my foggy mind didn’t notice my underwear sliding down my legs until i felt him actually touch me. i arched my back, lifting myself off the bed and he rubbed circles. he watched my every move, my every reaction, going faster when i’d moan out. the small room echoed with my moans as i felt a harsh pit bubbling in my lower stomach. i was aching for him so it was no surprise that i’m already near an orgasm. just as i was about to release he pulled his fingers away, leaving me frustrated at the denial.

“what the fuck?!” i groaned out.

“i want you to cum with me.” he explained while he took off his pants.

a patch in the front of his boxers wet with precum. i watched his fingers pull the hem of the boxers down, slowly revealing his boner. he was aching for me as much as i did for him. his tip was red, begging for some kind of release. he was quick to me towards me, his leaky tip pressing against my wet pussy.

“you ready?” he looks straight into my eyes.

“yes.” i breathed out.

he barely gave me time to prepare since he immediately pushed himself in. he went slow, making sure he wasn’t hurting me but seeing how my face wasn’t full of pain and instead of pleasure, he quickly filled me up. he set a medium pace, my stomach doing flip when he pumps deep instead. the veins in his arms and popping, like he was holding back. his gritted teeth confirming.

“faster…please cil…” i moan, needing more.

he looked surprised at my words, like i wasn’t the type to like rough.

he gradually went faster and harder, crescendoing every second. he kept a harsh grip on my hips, definitely leaving bruises. i reached up, grabbing his arms to pull him down to me. i connected our lips hungrily, wanting to taste him more. his hips stuttered as i bit onto his bottom lip. i hands snaked their way into his hair, tugging it once again. he let out a breathless moan, absolutely going crazy over the action. i kept pulling just to hear those moans again. his sounds inch me closer and closer to my orgasm again. he pulled away from my lips, going down to kiss all over my chest. biting, sucking, kissing, doing anything he can to me. the bed kept creaking, hitting the wall with his thrusts. my hands began roaming his body, scratching and pressing harshly down at his soft skin. all my senses were heightened, i felt on cloud 9. feeling cillian’s lips on me felt…right. it felt perfect. i never want this to end, but a certain feeling indicated that it was going to.

“fuck cil…i’m gonna cum..” i dug my fingernails into his shoulder.

he hissed at the pain but the sound was followed by a quiet moan.

“me too…me too baby.” his words had an effect on me.

i moaned out and clenched around him at his sentence.

“you like what i said?”

“yes..” i breathlessly admit.

“god, you’re doing so good for me. you’re so beautiful, so pretty, so everything. can you cum for me, darlin?” i shivered insanely.

i was at the edge about to tip over. the one thing that tipped me over the edge and into an orgasm was his whimpering my name. i barely heard it but at the same time it was incredibly loud to me. i arched my back, squeezing my eyes shut, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him closer. an uncontrollable amount of moans escaped my parted lips as i came all over him. he watched my every move, my every facial expression, my everything as i came. now THAT sent him over the edge. he impulsively switch positions, not even thinking straight. he sat on his knees, pulling me to sit on his lap as he thrusted upwards. my body ran cold, overstimulation eating away at me. he held my ass, holding me up as he inches closer and closer. then he came. his hips came to a harsh halt, slamming into me abruptly before cumming. he held me close, our chests pressed together. his fingertips pressed into my hips, his head thrown back. his cum spurted into me, making my body relax from the feeling. i looked up to kiss his neck, it vibrating from his moans. his arms snaked around me, hugging me even closer. i knew he was done when i heard him release a loud breath. we stayed like this for a while, so close together. my cheek pressed against his freckled chest as he rested his chin on top my head. our breathing slowly went back to normal, our sweaty bodies becoming sticky. i felt him kiss the top of my head, muttering something i didn’t pick up.

“what was that?” i look up at him.

“nothin hon. let’s get cleaned up.” he smiled at me.

he held onto me as he got off the bed, walking us over to my connected bathroom. he sat me down on my counter, slowly pulling out of me. i hissed at the soreness but secretly got sad at the loss of contact. he ran the water, making sure it’s a perfect temperature. the shower was relaxing. cillian and i washing each others hair and bodies. he helped me get dressed and everything, this man will be the death of me. we ended the night off cuddling, talking about nothing.

[autumnalwalker]

Empty Names - 11 - Afterparty

Author's Note: Sullivan makes largely-accurate-but-crucially-flawed assessments of his teammates, round two. And some more glimpses of what he's capable of doing besides standing off to the side making snide comments. Sullivan may be terrible and kind of creepy, but he's surprisingly fun to write. Word Count: 3,959 Content Warning: Mild body horror.

<-Previous Chapter Masterpost Next Chapter->

There are at least seventeen dining rooms in Bridgewood Manor.  From the chandelier-lit and gleaming grand banquet hall whose long table with a throne-like chair at one end that seats dozens to a dim, cozy café with intimately curtained booths for two.  The whimsy of tea tables on lilypads drifting across a pond while whole flowers grow suspended in the air contrasted with the stark modernist experiment in black and white and chrome.  All are served by kitchens with staff constructed from the purchased memories of expert chefs, bargained as collateral in their youth and collected upon their retirement.  Only the finest ingredients stock the stasis-locked pantries, indefinitely preserving the foodstuffs that only a centuries-old sorceress from still-older money could have purchased without blanching at the price that comes from the combination of quality, rarity, and need to transport across worlds.

Sullivan and his friend are sharing their dinner of water, a loaf of bread, a small wedge of cheese, and an apple apiece, sitting on the floor of a never-used guest bedroom.

“My friend, I dare say we struck gold with these recruits of yours.”

“You know that’s practically a pun coming from you?”

“I prefer to think of it as ‘being on brand.’”

“Honestly, I’m more surprised to hear you speak highly of them.”

“I only said ‘struck gold.’  It still needs extracted, refined, smelt, worked, and shaped into something worthwhile.”

“I think you might be overworking that metaphor.”

“No, what was overworked was your inspirational speech there at the end,” Sullivan says, shaking a still-unbitten apple at his friend for emphasis.  “Then again, I suppose it’s comforting to hear that you’re still just as corny and over-rehearsed as ever in that department.”

“That was one hundred percent off-the-cuff, thank you very much.”

“That just makes it worse.  You understand why that’s worse, right?”

“No,” they say around a bite of bread.

Sullivan slowly shakes his head.  Void Without, they’re going to be the death of him one day.

“My advice, drop the speeches.  You’ve always done better with the more de facto leadership of being the one to step up and take responsibility for getting things moving than as a formal role.”

“I’ll take your word on that.  Heh.  It’s not like I’ve been able to learn from experience.”

Sullivan nearly drops the apple.  Did they just make a self-deprecating joke about that?  Oh, no no no no, changing the topic right now.

“But as I was saying,” he resumes without a trace of fear, “the kids have potential.”

“I’d hardly call Eris and Lacuna ‘kids,’ and barely Ashan.”

“Oh please, you and I are both older than the three of them put together and I married a woman with anecdotes older than the country we do most of our work in these days.  They’re kids.”

His friend freezes for half a second, awful recognition flickering across their face.  They open their mouth to speak but the moment passes, their expression returns to an easy casual smile, and whatever they were about to say is replaced by “Do go on then.  You almost never speak well of anyone, so this should be good.”

That was a close one.  Sullivan curses himself for bringing up their age.  Is he really that out of practice from so short a time apart?  He continues on as if he noticed nothing.

“Well, obviously there’s wizard boy being a proper anchor world mage twisting thermodynamics to fuel spells from a magic system where that shouldn’t work just because it makes sense to him.”  He starts rhythmically tossing the apple in the air and catching it again.  “It’s not every day you find a mage who actually thinks to make tactical use of his power source’s side effects instead of tunnel visioning on actual spells.  Not to mention his capacity for power draw and output exceeds even my expectations.  If he can figure out a way to internalize a more efficient channeling schema and diversify his repertoire we’ll have a true rarity on our hands.”

“So that’s it?  Just another rare and valuable artifact for the collection?”

“If one wants to set a strong foundation for the sort of organization you’re looking to build then one must needs start with the best of the best to inspire the next generation.  He has the potential to be that.  And besides,” he rolls the apple down his arm, behind his shoulder and into the other hand, “he’s demonstrated a truly classic willingness to throw himself into the fire to save his comrades.  He’s a good fit for you.”

Not that Sullivan or his friend needed the help back there, but the kid couldn’t have known that.

“That is the sort of thing I would have done in his place, isn’t it?”

“More like ‘have done repeatedly.’  Maybe you’ll get to ease off and take turns now.  He’ll make a good right hand for you.  With me ever as the left, of course.”  He begins contact juggling the apple, noting with satisfaction how his friend’s eyes follow it.  “The techie meanwhile: adorably spineless.  She’ll probably just do paperwork for us all day if you let her, but - credit where it’s due - I underestimated her usefulness when you said you were bringing her on as our fifth.”

“You’re referring to the remote glyphs.  She was reluctant to talk about that when I brought it up.”

“Oh she’s definitely not supposed to have those,” he chuckles.  “The records of what she was working on before she got sacked were thoroughly scrubbed, but having seen it, there’s not much else it could be.  It’s hilarious how skittish she is about anything she’s actually good for, but I’m sure that with the right push she’ll make good clay for you to shape into whatever you want her to be.”

“I’m not interested in ‘shaping’ anyone.  These are our teammates we’re talking about, our friends, not a bunch of shiny new toys to play with.”

“Call it ‘inspiring’ her then if it makes you feel better.  She’d probably like the clay analogy though.  Given today’s revelations and her circumstances I’d be willing to bet she’s got at least a decent theoretical grasp of any transmutation related topic you care to name.  It’s an obvious case of someone who doesn’t know who they want to be but knows it’s not who they are now.  Show her like you showed me.  It should be easy enough; it’s obvious every time she looks at you that she thinks the world of you.”

“Just like it’s obvious she’s terrified of you?  Seriously, what did you say to her when I wasn’t around?”

Sullivan clasps his apple-less hand over where his heart should be and gasps in mock indignation.  “Why, I was nothing other than my usual charming self.”

“That’s what worries me.  You were being antagonistic enough while I was around; I’m not completely blind to how you are when I’m not.”

The apple’s returned to its original hand when Sullivan pulls it away from his chest into an exaggerated shrug.  He cheated that particular sleight-of-hand, but that’s one of the perks of being him.

“I was just stress testing them.  If they can’t take a bit of light provocation now, how can we expect them to hold up a year from now in a real high-stakes situation with tensions running high?  Besides, if I’d really been trying to antagonize anyone there would have been bloodshed.”

His friend sighs.  “I know, I know.  But for once, could you at least pretend to get along?  I really want this to work out.”

Sullivan stops playing with the apple.  “I know, and so do I.  That’s why I did it.  But since you asked, I’ll… show some restraint.”

“Thank you.  Building up team trust and understanding is going farther than just learning to tolerate each other.”

Sullivan peels a bit of skin off the apple with his teeth instead of answering.  The taste is so-so.  Better as a prop than food, especially for one who doesn’t need to eat.

“I notice you didn’t mention Eris,” his friend says after a few bites of their own meal.

“Muscles?  What’s there to say?  Every team needs its resident brute and she fits the role.  Big, simple, strong, durable, and resorts to physical force at every opportunity without thinking the consequences through.  But, as they say, ‘when all you have is a hammer…’” He traces a ring around the apple’s stem with a finger and then rips out the core with one tug.  “It’s cute though how protective she gets of the techie,” he continues as he tosses the de-cored ring of fruit to his friend.  “Pound of gold says the two of them are sleeping together by the end of the year if they’re not already.  Muscles will probably be obsolete once the other two come into their own, but she’s a good shield until then and - as we’ve seen - putting her in danger’s a good way to motivate the techie.  Not that you would ever do that intentionally of course.”

His friend pauses, apple halfway to their mouth, and gives him a flat look.

“And not that I would either, don’t worry,” he assures them while lazily swinging the apple core by its stem.  “Besides, it’s not like I’ll be going into the field with them again anytime soon.”

“You have a lead then?”

“That remains to be seen, but as you pointed out yourself when you got the call for this job, a bizarre accident on a known smuggling route just weeks after a cross-world smuggling ring got wiped out and robbed is enough of a coincidence to be suspicious.  I’ll be checking on our lighthouse-dwelling acquaintance to ask him if he knows anything about this ‘pulse’ our sole survivor mentioned.  After that I still need to have an interview with said survivor to make sure there aren’t any other details he’s forgetting, sort through the salvaged luggage and cargo for anything incriminating, and grease whatever appendages on whatever politicians in Crossherd I need to in order to get all those pod people out of my garden and back to Culescu.

“Suffice to say, that all should keep me occupied for some time, and even if it turns out to be unrelated to your initial case there should be some positively delicious secrets to be dug up in the course of looking into why this happened.  Assuming you want me to find out, of course.”

“Go for it.  If there’s a chance something or someone intentionally caused this disaster then we need to know.  I’m guessing that ward monitor you had me plant at the lighthouse still hasn’t picked up anything?”

Sullivan shakes his head.  “No one’s been in or out of there except us and Cabetha’s crew, and at this point I don’t think anyone’s going to be.  Either that or whatever it is they’ve been doing to keep from leaving a trace is even more paranoid in its thoroughness than I thought.  I’ll retrieve it when I’m back out there tomorrow morning.”

His friend nods.  “In the meantime, I was planning on seeing if I can track down Jero and talk xem into helping wake up the passengers.”

“Xe’s still on-world, last I checked.  Let me know when you’re bringing xem by so I can get xem through security.  You bringing wizard boy along with you?”

“No, I figure we can let him and the others rest for a few days while you and I wrap things up on this quest.”  They smirk a little as they say that last word and Sullivan lets them have this indulgence without comment.  “I take it you’re fine with him staying here that long?”

“Whatever faults I may hypothetically have, I have always been an excellent host.  I’ll not remove a guest who hasn’t done anything to deserve it.  I’ll see to it that the staff keeps him and our other guest from getting lost without me.”

“Thanks.  Speaking of Ashan though, any idea what’s with the tattoo on the back of his neck?”

“Tattoo?” Sullivan asks, his surprise nearly causing him to miss the falling apple core he’d just tossed into the air.  Barely catching it with his teeth, he pulls it the rest of the way into his mouth and swallows it whole.

“I just caught a glimpse of it when he was pulling his hair back.  You were busy with the radio and I think Eris was distracted by seasickness, so I suppose it makes sense if neither of you saw it.  It looked like a glyph of some kind.  Thought you might have recognized it if you saw it, having lived with Carnette and all.”

Sullivan smiles wide.  “Now that is some interesting gossip.”

“Please don’t sneak into his room while he’s sleeping to examine it”

“Fine,” he concedes with a huff and a roll of his eyes.

*******

It’s approaching midnight and - to his own surprise - Sullivan’s been true to his word and not spied on any guests in their sleep.  Not for the first time lately, the thought crosses his mind that he might be going soft.

He pinches the ivory candle floating in front of him to snuff out its black flame, dropping the interior of the spherical mirror chamber into darkness and releasing the ghost he’d spent the past half hour cross-examining from the infinite reflection of its corpse.  He claps twice and soon he feels the subtle shift in the air from the chamber opening.  He gathers up the cadaver and candle in his usual fashion, takes a hold of the silk rope that’s been lowered to exactly where protocol dictates, and allows himself to be lifted out.  The pull of gravity returns, a trapdoor slides shut with a soft wooden swish-thunk, a carpet unrolls with a whump, and old wooden furniture creaks as it returns to its proper alignment.

As he lets go to drop into the plushly upholstered chair now beneath him a buzzing electric chandelier flickers to life, revealing the recreation of a nineteenth century occultist’s séance parlor around him.  Dark red velvet curtains (expensive) lining the walls, crystal ball (mundane) nestled in a pillow on the table (mahogany) in front of him, ouija board (fake) on one side, tarot deck (fake but good for introspection) on the other, human skull (real) on a nearby pedestal, cabinet of curiosities (fraudulent) behind him, and eldritch communion incense (distressingly real) resting cold and unburnt in a tentacle-shaped holder.

It had been another one of Carnette’s little jokes, setting up this hackneyed facade on top of the actual necromantic summoning chamber of her own design.  There was always one of those to go through anytime Sullivan wanted to get into the tools and mechanisms she’d left behind.  Daily reminders of her just as constant as the blue metal wedding band on his finger.

Sullivan’s no mage himself - and never could be in this world cluster - but he could still manage his fair share of rituals, especially with the help of his dearly departed wife’s implements, reagents, and grimoires.  Using one of the bodies of the Culescun crew members he’d discreetly gathered up while his video feed was off to summon the associated ghost to verify Dis!ma*s’s story had practically been child’s play with the mirror chamber doing most of the work for him.  Truth be told he’s feeling disappointed, both at how little a challenge it was and at how little new he learned.  Just because the ghost had corroborated the story Dis!ma*s had told them that didn’t mean there wasn’t more going on that neither of them knew about, nor did it mean there wasn’t still something the live one had left out.  Never trust a sole survivor.  Sullivan’s been one enough times to know.

As he removes the ivory candle from his person and places it in a candlestick he contemplates repeating the process on the ship’s resident flesh-shaper.  On the one hand, the other two were just grunts and someone of higher station might know more.  On the other hand, it’s not every day he gets his hands on a body with a skill this rare and it had been dead long enough before he got it into stasis that there’s not enough essence left lingering for both summoning and… personal indulgence.

A series of rapid beeps emits from his breast pocket.  What to do about that morsel is a decision that will have to be tabled for another time.  It was hard to tell with how they blended together, but at a rough guess Sullivan would say about twenty.  Roughly twenty people have just crossed the bounds of the perception ward around Lachlan’s lighthouse.  More than he’d anticipated - even before he gave up on anyone showing - but not, he thinks, more than he can handle.

This morning it had taken the carriage roughly forty minutes to make the trip from the front door of the Manor to the base of the cliff below the lighthouse.

Alone, Sullivan figures he can make it in five.

He stands and his skin ripples and writhes from that which is beneath it.

Space warps and compresses to a single point in his vision.

He takes a step and is out in the hallway.

Another step and he’s at the far end.

A turn, a step, another hallway.

Cross rooms and repeat.

The internal labyrinth of Bridgewood Manor is not conducive to this mode of travel.

He doesn’t bother waking his friend or Ashan.

Outnumbered as he expects to be, he may do some things they wouldn’t approve of.

He’s faster alone anyway.

And he hates to disturb his friend’s rare sound sleep.

One minute.

He steps out the door into the night air.

One step to the edge of the forest.

Three steps to the correct tree.

He lets himself settle for a moment so as not to confuse the security.

A brief transit north through the dark of the bridge.

Still faster for the master of the house alone than it would be with others.

Rise from the weathered wooden floorboards to stand in an arctic wind.

No longer a storm but still enough to rattle the remains of the old collapsed cabin.

Two minutes.

The twisting beneath his skin resumes.

One step down to the shore.

Practically a leisurely stroll down the winding coast.

Faster than the wind whose bite is but a tickling nibble to him.

Three minutes.

The boom echoes across the water and off the cliffs from kilometers away.

The pillar of fire erupts high enough to pierce the perception ward.

The lighthouse’s last light.

He picks up his pace.

Four minutes.

The receiver in his breast pocket beeps twenty three times.

The beeps are more spread out this time.

He swears and rounds the bend in the coast.

The dragon and the bone ship are long gone.

A single, strained step takes him across the bay and to the top of the cliff.

The receiver beeps once with his passage.

He stands at the base of the lighthouse.

It looks like the door’s been kicked in and then lit on fire.

Five minutes.

He steps to what’s left of the top of the lighthouse.  The glowing red metal grating of the widow’s walk bends beneath his weight and begins blackening and cracking the leather soles of his shoes as he perches at the edge of the hollowed out tube.  There’s light to be seen down there from the molten stone walls; not much, but enough to show that naught remains inside but swirling smoke and ash.

Sullivan stills that which is beneath his skin before opening is mouth wide (but only humanly so), sticking out his tongue, and breathing in the char on the air.  Plenty dead here, but nothing remotely recent.  Annoying, but curious.  He stands up straight and looks around, taking full use of the high vantage point as he blinks his eyes to cycle through spectrums and filters.

A quarter of a kilometer inland, well outside the bounds of the perception ward, he spots the last fading wisps of a spatial distortion marking a mass teleport.  Even from here he can tell there’s not enough left to trace the destination.  He gives a whistle of appreciation for whoever was skilled enough to break space that cleanly.  Turning his reconfigured gaze back to the burning hole that was once an alchemist’s workshop he notices a previously unseen current toward the bottom.  May as well check that out.

Casually, he rolls up the hems of his tailored pants, breaks apart the brittle and crumbling ruins of his shoes, peels off his flaming socks and steps over the ledge.  He falls twice the height of the lighthouse tower into the hollowed-out depths of the cliff before the shock of his upright landing sends a boneless ripple through his body.  The cavern he’s landed in is low and wide.  As above, so below remains nothing but cooling molten rock, ashes, and smoke.  Oh, and an entrancingly toxic mix of fumes from whatever alchemical concoctions the fire was meant to dispose of.  A shame the fire vaporized the equipment as well.  If he could condense this into a cologne the scent would simply be to die for.  Not that he’d have many places he could get away with wearing it, but he’s sure it would be a hit in the few that he could.  

Alas, he has a job to be doing, so he’ll have to satisfy himself with the short-term sensation of the gases that burn his face and nose just as surely as the floor is burning his bare feet.  He follows the invisible current of warping space to the gasping remnants of a collapsed bridge near the wall.  Had he arrived any later it would have been gone completely.  It’s visible now, up close, refracting the orange veins of light emanating from the wall more than what mere heat distortion could accomplish and gathering the ubiquitous fumes into a slowly swirling vortex.

Sullivan sticks a hand into that vortex, hardly feeling it as his palm is shredded and his nails are plucked.  Not passable - no surprise there - and routed through multiple proxy destinations.  Clever and thorough, as befits an alchemist worthy of the name, but not so clever that one worthy of the name of Bridgewood can’t get a feel for the general area of the final destination.  More importantly, he can feel the last traces of the alchemist’s “footprint.”  The man escaped before he set his home to blow up in the faces of unwanted guests.  Lachlan always had been the sort of man who’d rather destroy his own secrets than share them.  Not quite Sullivan’s style, but close enough that he can respect it.

He withdraws his arm with a smile and massages his wrist while his hand returns to a pristine and manicured state.  Now this was a lead.  And even better, his friend wouldn’t need to be sad and blame themself for the man dying under their watch.  He’d been worried about that when the the two of them first found the bodies aboard the Culescun ship, but fortunately Dis!ma*s’s timeline of the crew having died before his friend even got the call to investigate seemed to be enough for them to compartmentalize and rationalize it all as a success.

But best of all, it had been ages since Sullivan had a proper manhunt, much less one promising to end in a conflict with a large force backed by significant magical firepower.  He’ll need to expedite his other plans for the next few days because this is going to be delicious.

<-Previous Chapter Masterpost Next Chapter->

[winters-dream]

(it was not my intention, but the human in your prompt changed into a witch)

A small giggle left your mouth as your date tried yet another stupid line to woo you. You two sat in a booth of a local restaurant, the same setting as most of your dates. With the person sitting across from you being a demon, your options were limited to activities after dark.

Of course you knew that they were just trying to seduce you to their side, your powers desired and necessary for their plans to corrupt the rest of humanity. You were the most powerful witch of your time, you had great knowledge of all forms of magic. Especially dark magic.

Which is what drew this demon to you in the first place. They knew that if they got you on their side, nothing could stop the both of you from destroying the world as you knew it and rebuilding it as a kingdom for all demonic creatures. But you were no fool. The end of this world would mean the end of everything you knew and loved, including your own humanity. The demon's efforts were horribly in vain.

And gods was it amusing to watch.

"I must say," said the demon. "You look particularly scenic this evening.” 

They flashed a dazzling smile in your direction while you tried to hold back another line of giggles. “Scenic?”

The demon nodded, fully confident in their statement. 

“You mean like a landscape?”

The demon blinked. “What?”

“‘Scenic’ is a word used to describe a beautiful landscape,” you said, smiling at the confusion that danced in his eyes. “You’re calling me a piece of geography?”

“Well, um—” You sent them a knowing smile as they tried to come up with a response. 

“Yes,” they said. “You’re a landscape of . . . beauty and knowledge. I could stare at you all day and never get tired.”

You nodded your head once. “That’s creepy.”

“What? I didn’t mean that—I meant like—” Their face practically had a glow to it as they stumbled over a response. It was the first time you’ve seen a demon get flustered. It was amusing.

Your flitting giggles interrupted them as they sat across from you, clearly disappointed in themself for not coming up with a clever line to flatter you.

You tapped their hand that lay on the table. “Don’t beat yourself up. Your efforts are quite cute.”

Their face lit up at your words and you found yourself smiling at them with a fondness. You had to admit, although they were quite bad at this, they were charming in their own way. Their pure determination to win your heart was admirable, even if the goal was for their own evil agenda. 

The rest of the date went relatively well, the demon stopped trying to flirt for the night and you were able to see that they really were quite cute. But it still wasn’t enough for you to let them use your powers.

“I guess this is it,” you said. You now stood in front of the door to your apartment, your date coming to a close. Your demon leaned closer to you, almost expectantly, waiting for you to say something.

“Does the night really have to end so soon?” said the demon. “I was having such a lovely time with you.”

“I’m afraid so,” you said. “I had a lovely time tonight, thank you.”

The demon smiled. They took a step closer to you, their hands hovering around your waist. “Can I kiss you goodnight?”

You nodded, and in seconds their lips were on yours, a sweet kiss shared between you two. The demon’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to their body. There was a sense of urgency in their movements that didn’t match the gentle press of their lips  against yours. 

Your hands came up to cup their face, which seemed to egg them on. They kissed you again. And again and again. Finally stopping with their nose still brushing against yours.

“Join me,” they said. “I beg of you. With our magic abilities combined, we will be unstoppable. We could rule this world for eternity as their Royalties. A new kingdom of Hell.”

Their hands moved from around your waist to rest on your shoulders, a hopeful glint in their eyes. 

“What do you say?”

You smiled, worsening that budding gaze they held. 

“I say you’re cute if you think I’m crazy enough to join you in the destruction of this world. But better luck next time.”

You patted their cheek and stepped inside your home, turning back to find a smile of shy affection form on the demon’s face as you shut your door.

A demon trying to seduce a human for their nefarious plans is very bad at social interaction and flirting. The human on the other hand finds them oddly charming and cute.

[dfroza]

new wine into new wineskins

wine, likened unto blood (where the life is) represents the heart & spirit of a person and (the inner room) of the thought-life

the Lord is the only One born of pure and sacred Blood, uncontaminated by the first Adam’s sin and the curse of death (born of a virgin but not of fallen man’s seed)

although His life was laid down (willingly) by dying in our place and going into hell for us instead, which is a place of separation from God’s Light and eternal Love (a place of spiritual death)

And only through faith in His rebirth are we reborn (by a sacred act of grace)

we “believe…” in the heart and confess our faith vocally that “Yeshua (Jesus) is Lord”

He is both Lord and King

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 2nd chapter of the book of Mark:

Some days later when Jesus came back to Capernaum, people heard that Jesus was back in town and many gathered at the house where He was staying. Soon the crowd overflowed from the house into the streets, and still more people pressed forward to hear Jesus teaching the message of God’s kingdom. Four men tried to bring a crippled friend to Him; but since the crowd prevented their carrying him close enough to get Jesus’ attention, they climbed up onto the roof, opened a hole in it, and lowered the paralyzed man on his mat down to Jesus.

Jesus recognized the faith of these men.

Jesus (to the paralyzed man): Son, your sins are forgiven.

Some scribes were sitting in the crowd, and they didn’t like what they were hearing.

Scribes (reasoning to themselves): What does this Jesus think He is doing? This kind of talk is blasphemy, an offense against the Most High! Only God can forgive sins.

At once Jesus realized what they were thinking. He turned to them.

Jesus: Why do My words trouble you so? Think about this: is it easier to tell this paralyzed man, “Your sins are forgiven,” or to tell him, “Get up, pick up your mat, and walk”? Still, I want to show you that the Son of Man has been given the authority on earth to forgive sins. (to the paralytic) Get up, pick up your mat, and go home.

The man rose to his feet, immediately rolled up his mat, and walked out into the streets. Everyone in the crowd was amazed. All they could do was shake their heads, thank God for this miracle, and say to each other, “We’ve never seen anything like that!”

Another time Jesus was out walking alongside the Sea of Galilee teaching the gathering crowd as He went. He saw Levi, the son of Alphaeus, sitting at the booth where he collected taxes.

Jesus (calling out to him): Follow Me.

Levi left the booth and went along with Him.

At Levi’s house, many tax collectors and other sinners—Jews who did not keep the strict purity laws of the Jewish holy texts—were dining with Jesus and His disciples. Jesus had attracted such a large following that all kinds of people surrounded Him. When the Pharisees’ scribes saw who shared the table with Jesus, they were quick to criticize:

Scribes (to His disciples): If your master is such a righteous person, then why does He eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners, the worst among us?

Jesus heard them.

Jesus (to the scribes): People who have their health don’t need to see a doctor. Only those who are sick do. I’m not here to call those already in good standing with God; I’m here to call sinners to turn back to Him.

The disciples of John the Baptist and the Pharisees made a practice of fasting.

Some People (to Jesus): Why is it that John’s followers and the Pharisees’ followers fast, but Your disciples are eating and drinking like it was any other day?

Jesus: Guests at the wedding can’t fast when the bridegroom is with them. It would be wrong to do anything but feast. When the bridegroom is snatched away from them, then the time will come to fast and mourn.

These are new things I’m teaching, and they can’t be reconciled with old habits. Nobody would ever use a piece of new cloth to patch an old garment because when the patch shrinks, it pulls away and makes the tear even worse. And nobody puts new, unfermented wine into old wineskins because if he does, the wine will burst the skins; they would lose both the wineskins and the wine. No, the only appropriate thing is to put new wine into new wineskins.

One Sabbath Jesus and His disciples were walking through a field of grain; as they walked, His disciples grew hungry. They began to pull from the stalks and eat.

The Pharisees confronted Him.

Pharisees: Did You see that? Why are Your disciples doing what our law forbids on the Sabbath?

Jesus (turning toward the Pharisees): Do you remember the story about what King David and his followers did when they were hungry and had nothing to eat?

They said nothing, so He continued.

Jesus: David went into the house of God, when Abiathar was the high priest, and ate the bread that was consecrated to God. Now our laws say no one but the priests can eat that holy bread; but when David was hungry, he ate and also shared the bread with those who followed him.

The Sabbath was made for the needs of human beings, and not the other way around. So the Son of Man is Lord even over the Sabbath.

The Book of Mark, Chapter 2 (The Voice)

A set of notes from The Voice translation:

To some who believe wholeheartedly in God’s laws, Jesus is a troublemaker, a mere man who has a bad habit of making statements that take away from the honor due to the one true God. The “scribes” who make these kinds of accusations against Jesus are usually connected to the Pharisees (a Jewish sect popular with the people, mostly middle class, and religiously strict when it comes to following God’s laws) or the Sadducees (a smaller Jewish sect made up of priests and aristocrats from Jerusalem). While the two groups often clash with each other politically and theologically, they do find common ground—and sometimes even work together—in opposing Jesus.

•

Jesus’ invitation to follow Him, like His invitations to all the disciples, involves a lot more than joining the caravan; Jesus’ invitation is for sinners to change their ways of life. Jesus makes it clear, despite the criticisms of some observers, that this invitation is indeed open to all—especially to the sinners who need it most. Jesus grants to those who choose Him not just companionship and forgiveness but the ability to truly receive a new identity and live a new life.

Today’s paired reading from the First Testament is the 3rd and closing chapter of the book of Nahum:

Hopelessness and despair,

that’s the destiny of the city that shed so much blood,

That perfected its use of lies,

that overflows with stolen treasures,

Leaving behind endless victims.

The sharp cracking of the whip in the air;

clattering of wheels on the streets;

Galloping horse hooves;

clanging, banging chariots;

Charging cavalry troops;

flashing swords and gleaming spears;

Armies of casualties, piles of dead bodies—too many to count—

so many you can’t walk without stumbling over them!

This is all because you tempted and lured the nations like a harlot,

dangling the allure of immorality.

You were a sorceress promising control of the spiritual world,

enslaving nations to lives of immorality and families to sorcery.

Nineveh is laid waste as God watches.

Eternal One: Look at Me and My armies.

I stand against you, Nineveh!

I will treat you like the harlot you are, lifting your dress over your face—

peeling back your outward façade

And exposing your true condition, your nakedness underneath.

You will be humiliated and ashamed in front of the world.

I’ll throw all your own filth on you.

I’ll treat you with contempt and make a humiliating public display of you.

Then the whole world will turn its back on you and flee, saying,

“Poor, pitiful Nineveh—you are totally ruined.”

Is there anyone who will sympathize with you?

Where will I find anyone to comfort you?

Are you any stronger than the city of Thebes in its glory days?

Sitting at the edge of the Nile, its waters created a moat of protection on one side of her.

The Red Sea was a perfect defense against her eastern enemies,

As good as the protection of a wall.

The bounty of the regions of Cush and Egypt supported her, and

the areas of Put and Libya were her strong allies.

Yet she was taken captive and exiled.

Her babies were broken to pieces at the crossroads of every street.

They tossed lots into a bag and drew out names to establish control of her honored men;

all her best and brightest were put in chains.

And just like them, you will go into hiding, getting drunk to escape your terror,

searching for some place to hide from your enemies.

But those strongholds, Nineveh, are easy pickings,

like figs on a tree when they first become ripe.

Just shake the tree,

and figs fall into your open mouth.

Look at your fierce troops surrounding you now.

They cower like untrained women, not battle-hardened warriors.

The gates that should have protected your land

instead are standing wide open.

Fire burns through the bars; your enemies stroll right in.

Draw up plenty of water to put out the fires,

and prepare, for your enemy will begin a siege.

Get busy working the clay and mud to make extra bricks;

you’ll need them to repair holes punched in your walls.

The attackers’ fire will consume you.

Their swords will cut you down,

And like grasshoppers attacking a field of grain,

they will totally consume you.

Like grasshoppers, multiply yourselves;

like locusts, make your numbers countless.

You brought so many merchants

till they are more numerous than the stars in the skies.

Like grasshoppers, they strip sustenance from the land,

only to fly away before justice can be sought.

Your courtiers are like locusts;

your city officials like swarms of locusts

Who become chilled against the wall on a cold day.

When the sun comes up and they are warmed,

They fly away, abandoning you.

Searching, no one can find them.

O king of Assyria, your shepherds felt safe enough to sleep in the fields.

Your leaders slept soundly in the city.

When judgment comes, your people are scattered like lost sheep,

far and wide among the mountains.

There is no leader left to rally them together.

Nothing and no one can heal your wound.

Your city’s wounds are fatal; you cannot survive.

Everyone who hears the news of your destruction

claps his hands in celebration,

Because who among them has not felt

your legendary and endless cruelty?

The Book of Nahum, Chapter 3 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

Nahum expresses God’s sentiment against Nineveh, and it is not attractive! The prophet uses graphic images to show how angry God truly is. If showing the nakedness of the Assyrian people to the nations is not demoralizing enough, then the shame of God throwing excrement at His enemies is unmistakable. The indignity of being stripped naked and covered in filth is the fullest expression of God’s rejection. While these images are disturbing, they are also typical of how powerful enemies, such as the armies of Nineveh, have treated their victims. Now the table is turned; the victor is now the victim. There is no one to comfort the Assyrian people: they are without a prophet; they are without a poet; they are without hope.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for monday, february 5 of 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New) of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about listening, about “hearing”:

We sometimes “hear” others without really listening to them, usually because our attention is consumed with our own thoughts and feelings, or we tend to filter out what we don’t want to hear. The spiritual life, however, is decidedly one of attentive listening. "Shema Yisrael" is a summons of the heart to turn away from the profane to heed the sacred call of God. The invitation of the Shema is to passionately love God with all our heart, soul, and strength, and to heed the truth of love in all your ways (Deut. 6:4-5).

A verse from the Torah (parashat Yitro) relates God's appeal to Israel to become a people who listen with their heart: "Now therefore, if you will indeed obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession" (Exod. 19:5). The Hebrew grammar here is intense. The phrase often translated as "if you will indeed obey" uses an emphatic construction, "if hearing you will hear" (אִם־שָׁמוֹעַ תִּשְׁמְעוּ), which suggests a sincere willingness to listen for the voice of the LORD. That is why the LORD speaks kol demamah dakkah (בְּקוֹל דְּמָמָה דַקָּה), that is, in a quiet whisper, because a quiet and listening heart is required to hear what the Spirit is saying. Actively listening to the whisper of God enables you to walk as his beloved child, segulah (סְגֻלָּה), a treasured person.

The great commandment of Torah (i.e., divine wisdom) is always shema, “listen,” because sincere listening requires that we surrender our self-centered perspective and immerse ourselves within the meaning and needs of another. Listening opens us to God’s heart in all things, and therefore is essential for the “conversation” between our soul and the LORD. The act of listening is a sign of love, and that’s why we feel so lonely when we have no one willing to hear our words. Many people are quick to speak but precious few sacrifice themselves through selfless listening. The spiritual life, however, ultimately is shared life: We can do together what we cannot do individually. Yeshua prayed that we would know how much we need one another (John 17:21-23). The first step is to listen to God.

Genuine listening creates a sense of trust and connection between people. When real listening is going on, there is no need to “talk over” the other person, because the listener “speaks” through his or her respectful silence...Spiritual listening is “set apart,” holy, and hears the words spoken from the heart in a place of refuge.

God never asks of us what He does not do... If He urges us to listen to Him, to heed the voice of His love, then we can trust that He likewise listens to us and will answer the call of our hearts for Him. Regarding the Shema, “holy listening” involves more than just hearing with the physical ear, of course, but hearing with heart: “You shall love... you shall talk of God’s love at all times, in all places, and know Him in all you do (Deut. 6:5-9).

We are able to listen to God by the agency of God’s Spirit. God’s words are breathed out and made alive to us in a mysterious way (John 3:8; 6:33). And just as God breathed into us the “breath of life” to become a living soul, so Yeshua breathes into us the Holy Spirit to quicken eternal life within us (John 20:22). Communing with God and others means breathing out the words of life that were first breathed into us.

“O LORD, please speak to my heart today... What do you want me to hear?”

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Deuteronomy 6:4 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/deut6-4-j.mp3

Deuteronomy 6:4 with commentary:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/deut6-4-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/deut6-4-lesson.pdf

H4C page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/training/opening-verse-of-the-shema/

2.4.24 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel365:

The rebuilt city of Jerusalem is the greatest testimony to the truth of God’s Biblical promises. We must step back from our own narrow view of the world and contemplate the full scope of history. From this broad perspective, we see more clearly that Jerusalem has become, once again, the city of truth.

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

February 5, 2024

The Mind of Christ

“For who hath known the mind of the Lord, that he may instruct him? but we have the mind of Christ.” (1 Corinthians 2:16)

The mind of the natural man is “a reprobate mind” (Romans 1:28), a “carnal mind” (Romans 8:7), and a “defiled” mind (Titus 1:15), characterized by a daily walk “in the vanity of their mind, Having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart” (Ephesians 4:17-18).

When a person is born again through faith in Christ, however, he should be “transformed by the renewing of [his] mind” (Romans 12:2) and should henceforth seek to conform to the mind of Christ in every attitude and every decision.

But what is the mind of Christ? As our text says, “Who hath known the mind of the Lord?” Paul echoed the same question to the Romans: “For who hath known the mind of the Lord? or who hath been his counselor?” (Romans 11:34).

There are many aspects to His infinite mind, of course, but the key is undoubtedly the great attribute of sacrificial love. “Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: Who...became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross” (Philippians 2:5-6, 8).

Thus, following His example, we should “in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves” (Philippians 2:3). We should constantly “consider him that endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, lest [we] be wearied and faint in [our] minds” (Hebrews 12:3). We should receive “the word with all readiness of mind” and serve “the Lord with all humility of mind” (Acts 17:11; 20:19). Herein is the mind of Christ. HMM

[thepinkwriterr]

Capricorn Season Chapter Twenty-Three

Enjoy this new chapter! 

Table of Contents

Word Count: 5k

"Would you like to go to a show with Bonzo and I tonight?" Robert asked, a manic look in his eyes.

"Who is it?"

"A band we know from Birmingham. They just put out an album a couple months ago. They're good, real heavy stuff."

“What’s the name?” I asked. 

"Are you in or are you out? We're heading to the pub now, so make your choice!" Bonzo's voice was brash as usual, now having a lilting joy due to his elation.

"Sure, I'll go."

They cheered loudly, hooting and hollering. Their ruckus caused the people in the surrounding booths to look at us with judgement. 

I looked to Jimmy, who was wearing a face of surprise. His brows came together as Bonzo leaned in with a devious smile. "Don't worry, mate, we'll have her home safe!" Bonzo clapped me on the shoulder with the same grin. 

Jimmy still looked unsure.

"I'll be okay, I promise. I'll be back before you know it." I tried my best to reassure him, but I don't think it worked. There apparently wasn't time to worry about this. We had a show to catch and a pregame to start on. The guys pulled me from the booth and forced me out of the hotel, and away from Jimmy.

We found ourselves at the bar of the club in a matter of minutes. The radio played from the stage speakers, filling the small club with the top-40 at an alarming level. 

The multi-colored lights changed Robert’s velvet bell bottoms from red, to green, to blue in seconds, then back to their original deep purple. He turned to me with a tipsy grin, his teeth color-shifting with his trousers. 

Bonzo was behind me the whole time like a grizzly guard. His arm was heavy and hot but it made me feel better to have him there. No one had recognized them, which made me feel even better. I wanted to slip in and out of the club with ease. 

-

The crash of music was heard at last, loud and banging, after over an hour of waiting around. I had eaten twelve marichino cherries and slapped Bonzo’s arm twice. We’d already lost Robert once. He strayed to chase a tall brunette wearing a sparkly tube top. 

The drummer had a heavy foot and the guitarist was skilled. Every haunting note played was pure scripture to me, unlike anything I'd ever heard before. The lead singer was of average build and height but possessed a deep and terrifying voice. The lyrics he sang were mystical, almost scary, like a horror movie. I was entranced.

I looked to Robert, standing to my left when he snaked his arm around my shoulders. He was already sweating and hot. He directed my attention to Bonzo, who was wildly banging his head and whipping his hair in all directions like he did on stage. He was just as transfixed as I was. We shared a laugh and then went back to looking at the singer who was doing the same thing.

The show wasn't very long, just a few songs in a club, but they were amazing. The grumbling baselines and dread-inducing lyrics were a new taste in my mouth. They were the heaviest band I'd ever heard, heavier than Zeppelin or "Helter Skelter". This was the genesis of a genre.

I asked who the band was when the lights cut off.

Bonzo answered back "Black Sabbath" with a yell.

The name was fitting.

"Do you want to go backstage?" He leaned down, practically screaming in my ear. The club was still so loud, now playing music from the overhead speakers.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I asked.

"Jimmy might have a conniption fit. He pulled me aside before we left and begged me to watch you, like some toddler." Robert laughed; his arm still wrapped deftly around me. Perhaps Jimmy's insistence was his reasoning for staying so close.

"That's all the more reason to do it!" Bonzo was maniacal.

We moved to the green room, walking together and forming a wall for any trying to get past us. When we were firmly backstage, we saw the band at last. They were coated in a sheen of sweat, not too unlike the guys after a show. The men clapped each other's backs, shook hands, and shared greetings. The usual substances were also brought out and passed around. I was no stranger to this scene, having been on tour for a few weeks now, but hung back in shyness.

Robert caught ahold of this quickly and dragged me to the front of the group, showing me off as a prize pig at a fair. "This is Guinevere Young, our photographer, and Mr. Page's lady-in-waiting." My face burned in embarrassment. I knew that I had to correct my title and name, which was by Robert's design. He wanted to push my buttons and force me from my shell. Although he was a talented singer and natural front man, his foremost talent was stepping on toes. If he weren't so damn charming, it would be an issue.

"It's just Gwen. And I'm not his lady-in-waiting. If anything, that's you."

I made the group laugh, a cacophony of sounds I didn't think this serious band of dark wizards was capable of. They went around and introduced themselves, showing their perfect British manners. The front man, named Ozzy, was very intriguing. He had a tattoo on his forearm and a sheepish demeanor. This was unusual, as he was lively on stage. But he was unusual, so it didn't seem to matter.

"Are ye coming to the party tonight?" The drummer asked.

"Of course, we are," Bonzo spoke for us. He was four drinks in, already causing chaos and possibly getting me into trouble with the husband.

"I don't think that's a good idea. Won't Jimmy be upset that I'm gone so long?" I asked Robert in a small voice. I felt myself shrinking as the night went on, drowned out by the large personalities and the lack of vigor in my system due to my sober status.

"Darling, he knew we'd be out all night. That's why he wanted me to look after you. When you go out with Bonzo, you're not leaving until you're wetting yourself and can't walk."

"I'll have a quick shower and then we can head out." The tall guitarist turned and was gone in an instant. Now it was just the six of us, standing in silence. The sounds from the front of the club could still be heard. They were preparing for a new act to come on, welcoming them to the stage. I could see the next band shuffling around, waiting to go on. They looked nervous. I had seen that same look in Jimmy, right before every show. His face would grow pale, and his hands shook like a motorboat. Perhaps all guitarists were nervous.

We rode with the band to a hotel. The party occurring on the seventh floor was raging. I could hear the music and screaming from the pavement out front. I could also feel a lump in my throat already. I'd never been to one of these parties without Jimmy. He was always there to make sure I was comfortable, safe, and consuming the proper amount. When we drank, he made me take a drink of water with every shot. But I didn't have that now, left to my own devices with a group of crazed musicians. And believe you me, I'd never known a group of people to party harder than musicians. With their hordes of women, an endless supply of whatever drugs they wanted, and the power and money to do whatever they wanted, they were skeletons dancing in a decadent night of listless sin.

The party floor was smoky and sweaty when we arrived, the walls bouncing and waving with the dense sound of fun. This night was a fever dream, a string of new experiences. I'd never seen people so high. Their eyes were practically rolling from their head, crashing to the floor with a light thud. And if that did happen, they wouldn't have cared.

"Here, love, loosen up." Bonzo handed me a glass of dark liquid. He wasn't pushy, the brash look covering his face now gone. This was an extension of friendship, an offering of love. He wanted me to have a good time and let go. Tour was a time to let loose, a time to let your inhibitions fall to your feet and raise up into the heavens, only to be seen again on the plane ride home. But I wasn't the drummer of a famous band, I was a photographer without a real agency. There was no job security for me, and it weighed heavily on me. When I imbibed, I was left with nothing but my inhibitions, now losing the wit I usually possessed, so I shoved the glass back into his hand and shook my head.

"No, no, I remember what happened the last time you offered me something. My eyelids were plastered to the drywall of my hotel room for 12 hours. I didn't sleep for two days. I don't trust you."

"Oh c'mon... You know you want it!"

I shook my head in puerile defense, crossing my arms and looking away. "Gwen, stop being so childish. Just drink the damn thing and get loose!" A faint laugh fell from my lips, now aiding his ego and drunken state.

"I don't like alcohol."

"Bullshit! I've seen you and Jim have ragers, partying all night with a drink in your hand."

"I don't want the drink!"

"Fine, I'll be back with a J then." I wasn't opposed to this idea, but I still didn't want to lose my wits. This party was filled with lecherous men, their prying eyes desperately drinking any inch of me they could find. It didn't feel safe, especially without Jimmy.

Bonzo, much to my chagrin, was an honest man. He came back less than five minutes later with a smoking stick in one hand, a J in the other. He handed me the already lit joint and went to work on the cigarette.

"See, now you're havin' a good time!" His drunken stupor was back. He eventually meandered away; his attention stolen by a pretty woman in a short dress. I was left by myself, but not for long.

"Hey, Gwen, right?" The mustached man from Sabbath was standing in front of a large drink table. He was the bassist, named Geezer, which I thought was funny. They all had funny names. They were a group of odd people but seemed nice enough.

"Yeah. Geezer, right?" I mirrored his words, sticking my hand out. He shook it.

"Robert said you're the photographer. Are you looking to pick up any new clients?" Excitement. This was how I was going to build my portfolio!

"Actually I am. Are you guys looking for one?"

"Yes, indeed we are. I know you're on tour right now but-"

"Here, I'll give you my boss's contact information and get everything set up. I can work something out, I'm sure. I already have so many photos of Zeppelin that missing a few shows wouldn't hurt." I wrote down William's number on a napkin then handed it to the tall man.

"Thank you! This takes a lot of stress off our shoulders. We've been looking for a good photographer to get some press going, but they all are kind of terrible. The shots are always so blurry. Things are harder here in the states than we thought."

"Yeah, there are a lot of bad photographers out there. Good thing you're getting the best." I gave him a wink and a pat on the shoulder then went to find Robert. I think he'd be able to appreciate Bonzo's gift more than I.

When I finally spotted him from across the darkened lounge, he was sitting on a plush sofa with a young lady wrapped around him. She was like a silky snake, coiled around his arm and drooling over him. He was in his natural element, I suppose, being worshipped. I was surprised they weren't forming a circle around him, dancing naked and silver.

"Well, hello, Ms. Young. What can I do for you this fine evening?"

"Here." I handed him the wrapped grass and he took it immediately, puffing on it and passing it to the woman on his arm.

"This is Tiffany." She wore a simple smirk, as crooked and devilish as he. I was apprehensive. Wasn't he with Lorelei? As she put it; they were a serious tour item. Whatever that meant.

"Hi, I'm Gwen. The photographer."

The tawny woman sent me a smile and a wave. Her delicate hands were nimble and pretty, nails adorned with long acrylics painted a deep mauve. The color complimented her outfit and skin tone well. I looked to admire her frame and appearance. She was wearing a tube top and shorts, dressed appropriately for the sweaty hotel lounge.

"I take it you guys have been having a good time." I made chit-chat with my hands in my pockets, feeling awkward. Robert nodded with a smile as he took the smoke into his mouth once more. This was his ritual and I'd seen him do it many times.

"I just love this atmosphere," The woman started, speaking in a faint accent, "All of the people and dancing. It gets my energy up!" She was on her feet now, pulling Robert up with her. I felt really awkward now, standing to the side and watching them move. This lasted for only a moment. Whether it was a sixth sense or common sense, they shoved me into their tango.

We were a trio dance group now, moving together in horrible rhythm. I had two left feet and square hips, no doubt the most atrocious dancer you'd ever seen. This didn't matter, I found. I looked around to see no one paying us any mind. But even if they had, there was no room for judgment. Everyone else was moving just as cumbersome and unpleasant as me.

After a brief moment of dancing, we retired to the couch, now loose and jovial. The effects of the herb and the movement were over me. I felt spellbound as I listened to Tiffany speak. She was a poetic woman, small and busty. Her buxom skin was gorgeous under the restraints of her clothing. I could understand Robert's attraction to her, especially with her similarities to Maureen. Although his disloyalty to Lorelei rubbed me the wrong way. I guess it wasn't a shock, as he was already cheating on Maureen.

She spoke of a distant land, one from a book she'd read long ago. It sounded almost like Tolkien, with the rolling hills and abundant farmland. The enchanting lilt of her voice was feminine and alluring. I could feel myself leaning in, getting closer as her voice waned. If I wasn't careful, I'd be stealing Robert's woman. I don't think he would mind too much, as I knew he couldn't take her back to the room. Lorelei was already in his bed, tucked away for a night in.

I lost the pair as the night continued. I'd gone to use the bathroom and they disappeared in that time. Bonzo was easy to spot. All I had to do was look for a source of the noise. I found him playing tennis with Ozzy, except they weren't using the proper gear. Instead of rackets, they were using picture frames they'd taken off the walls. They were mismatched in subject and size, resulting in an uneven match that was being won by neither of them. Their game lasted almost 25 minutes before Bonzo dropped his frame. It landed at his feet with a crash. He gave a thunderous laugh and stepped over the broken glass. Ozzy sat his frame down carefully, resting it on a coffee table.

This seemed to be the largest chaos of the night. By the time the glass had broken, the crowd of partygoers thinned out. Most people found their date, straying into the rooms and devouring each other in secret sin. This was the debauchery of music. The pretty sounds of carefully produced albums had given way to this hedonistic lifestyle. I wasn't fond of it, the smell or the sights. But that's how I made my money. And whether it was a job with Zeppelin or Sabbath or someone else, I had to make peace with it.

-

We didn't return to our hotel until 3 A.M. Bonzo was kicking and screaming when we dragged him from the party but was out cold by the time we got back.

"Thanks for helping get him to bed," Robert laughed, "I don't think I could lift the ole' boy without you."

"I couldn't either." Tiffany matched his laugh. She was tucking Bonzo into his bed. She came back with us, under Bonzo's arm all this time. I nodded and we made our way out of the room and into the hall.

I made it three steps down the hall before the door to my room ripped open, Jimmy hurtling down the carpet at me. He crashed into me, sending the two of us to the ground. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He sat up, balancing his weight on his hands. My head was spinning, now wracked with pain. "Are you okay?" He prodded further.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just help me off the ground." He tried to heave me from my spot but ended up next to me once more. He was drunk.

"Come on, let me help you."

When we were settled into the hotel bed, this one being particularly uncomfortable, he confided in me. "You know, you're the most person I've ever loved. Ever." He was slurring his speech, a thick mass of saliva in his mouth. This was the tell-tale sign of his intoxication. That, and his boisterous laughter. He had a specific belting laugh that got louder with each drink. It was cute, really, to see him all flushed pink and stumbling over his words. He was always so put-together and austere, reduced to a toddler when drunk.

"I love you too, sweetums. How much did you have to drink tonight?"

"Nothing."

"Not a drop?"

"Nope!" He ended his lie with a pop, then smiled sweetly, his lips pressing into a thin line. The child-like facade was back. Before I could prod any further, he made a show of repositioning so he could be impossibly close. He was laying on his side, his face nestled in my neck and enveloped in my hair. I was stuck with Sweet Baby James for the night.

"Did you have a good time at the show?" He asked.

"Yeah, it was fun. I didn't know they were going to be so heavy."

"Who'd you see?"

"Black Sabbath. I'd never heard of them before."

"Ah, Black Sabbath," He mocked, "I hate them. Buncha' gothic weirdos." This caused a laugh to bubble in my chest and creep out of my mouth. He's not usually so brazen. They call it 'truth serum' for a reason.

"I liked them. They were nice guys."

"You met them?"

"Yeah, Bonzo dragged us backstage. They were a bit odd, but I think that's just cause they were British."

"Hey!"

I laughed at his offense. "I talked to the bassist; he asked if I'd shoot some stuff for them. He was really nice, I liked him a lot. I gave him William's number and we're gonna get something set up. I'm very excited." I rambled on.

"That sounds nice..." He was dozing off now, his words growing smaller as his mouth closed. He was practically snoring already.

-

The next morning, I slipped out of my room for breakfast to see Tiffany. She was making the same crawl as I, sans Bonzo. She was wearing the same outfit from last night, his shirt now thrown over her glittery tube top. Makeup was smudged across her delicate face. It was like seeing a fallen angel, the way she sauntered down the hall, barefoot. "Hey, girl." I smiled, walking next to her. I was barely awake but happy to see her alive and seemingly well. She gave me a simple wave and continued her descent.

When I was in the lobby, gathering food for the two of us, I saw Lorelei. A pang of guilt traveled through me. I knew Robert was with someone else. I didn't have to guess what they did in the hours that I hadn't seen them, as Tiffany told me. I felt even worse when her sweet voice entered my ears. She looked lovely, a lengthy amount of beauty sleep under her belt. I tried my best to get our food quickly.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go. Jimmy is hangry." I gave a fake laugh and left as quickly as I could.

He was asleep once more when I got to our room. He looked so peaceful, features mashed into the pillow, curls fanned over the case. I admired him for a moment before I shook his shoulder, waking him from his slumber. "Your breakfast is here. You should eat before it gets cold. We have a long day of travel ahead." He sat up at once and took the plate from my hands. I watched him eat, taking small bites and pausing between each one to drink from a bottle of water. So delicate and meticulous, he was, always needing routine.

When we boarded the bus, I was delighted to find Tiffany sitting behind me. Now she was on Bonzo's arm, wearing a thin smile and a pair of jeans. Her glittering night-life-look was gone, replaced by simple elegance. She really was a beautiful woman. She could even be a model if she tried. That's the funny thing about the patriarchy, the way women demean themselves.

In the light of day, she looked much better. The glitter was gone, and she was dressed much more modestly. Now that she secured her position with Bonzo she didn't need to wear the tube top or false eyelashes.

"You look great. I like those jeans." I complimented, looking at her from my seat. My neck was craned uncomfortably so I could look at her.

She gave me a smile and turned back to her man.

"What is that about?" I asked, turning to Jimmy. He turned to look at the scene I was alluding to. Her face was resting on his bicep, a look of serenity washing over them both. "She was with Robert last night," I whispered.

"They pass women around like it's square dancing." He was always making me laugh. His face lights up when I giggle, the corners of his rosebud lips raising and crinkling in absolute joy, like it's his life goal to make me happy. He almost looked relieved when he hears the sound of my laughter. I wondered if it was on account of his love or my propensity for gloom.

We spent the entirety of the flight in riveting conversation. Never once was there a lull in our talking. He was speaking about art, telling me more things he'd learned about the PRB when a name slipped from his mouth.

The name was "Jackie", one I'd never heard before. When I asked about her, he got quiet. I was afraid I'd stumbled upon a fling from before I'd arrived on tour. Thankfully, this was not the case.

He sighed heavily and went into a story about a girl he'd met before his days at art college. She had long blonde hair and pretty blue eyes, a woman with incredible skill. He said it was both in music and breaking hearts. She'd fallen in love with him, taken his hand and pulled him along with her. They spent a year together, breaking up before he left for college. He said this was another reason for the burning of his artwork from his time at college. I thought it was a shame, I'd like to see what he'd created. I didn't believe his excuse of "poor draftsmanship". As he went on, I didn't interrupt, instead letting him ramble on about his experiences of love and heartbreak.

"One day it just stopped. I didn't see her anymore. I didn't look for her car when I went somewhere, I didn't hear her voice in my head, I couldn't even remember the way she looked at me in total adoration. The clanking of my heart had finally died. Our love had burnt out and was left smoking. Then, finally, I was left holding a cold match. And I tossed it aside, now living my life without the need for them. And then when I met you... It was like I realized my pilot light was out. There was a light missing, and I didn't even know it. You turned on the burners once more, got my flames going. And that's when I knew I didn't love her anymore. I found you, and in you, I felt more at home than ever."

"I didn't even know you'd had another girlfriend. Or that it ended so poorly. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Jackie was... Jackie was nothing compared to you." When I didn't say anything, he spoke once more. "I haven't even so much as looked at anyone else since I've met you. That time I was on tour without you, without the knowledge that we were concrete, I was scared. That's why I snatched you up before we left England. It was driving me mad those weeks to be away from you. And when I couldn't stop thinking about you, that's when I knew I had to make you mine."

I wore a cheesy smile, smitten by his omission. And I believed him, I really did. Mostly because Jonesy had told me this a few days prior. He spoke to me about Jimmy's true feelings, his "lack of Jimmy-ness", as he put it. He told me that he abstained from groupies, not even speaking with the women he'd known for a long time.

"I'm afraid you've broken him. I don't know what you did, but he's not the same person I knew before you came along. And I like to see it. He looks happy, and so do you."  He said with a cheeky grin on his face.

When I told Jimmy of this conversation, changing the subject from his feelings, he rolled his eyes. "For such a quiet fellow, he sure knows how to spill someone's business." We laughed at this, covering our mouths at Peter's pointed gaze. We were whispering, trying our best to maintain the decorum of quietness, but to no avail. We giggled for the entire flight, speaking about the book I'd gotten in Texas, our feelings, and the material for the new album.

I felt lucky to hear of his new album, privileged to be in his inner circle. This was the same feeling looming over me when he talked about how much he loved me. I was a lucky girl, to have this man. I'd finally found who I was looking for, my quest for love was finally over. I spent so many years begging to be held, yearning for someone to meet me as deeply as I met them. And Jimmy was up for the task, surprisingly so. He didn't seem to be at a place to love so sonorously. But he did, and smoothly so. There wasn't a crack in our sidewalk or a lip in the road. I was endlessly happy, my cup replenished and giving. What a shock, I thought, to see a love this pure. We were meant to find each other, meant to frolic in the hot sun together. And I was happy to be with him, happy to be in his arms each night. I know he felt the same.

Taglist:

@anothercanyonlady​ , @jonesyjonesyjonesy​   @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin​ , @jimmysdragonsuit13    

[alltoowelltom]

miss americana & the heartbreak prince [part four]

tom holland x actress!reader

series summary: when you're called in to fake date tom holland for two months to fix his public image, you never expect anything to blossom between the two of you...

+ series masterlist

☆°・ chapter four ・°☆

The next month and a half passes by in a whirlwind of dates and public appearances with Tom. Despite your best judgement, you can’t help but curl into his side whenever he wraps his arm around you in a big crowd or subtly lean into what he’s saying at a restaurant. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you’re definitely falling for Tom.

Tom honked the horn when he was outside your apartment and you checked over your outfit one last time before running out the door. You slip into the passenger seat, blinking when Tom leans over to kiss your cheek. 

“Tom? What-”

“Y/N, meet the twins,” he says quickly, reminding you that you’re not alone. “You don’t know what kind of sacrifices I had to make to get them to sit in the back so you could have shotgun.”

“Oh, hey guys!” you twist around in your seat to smile at them. “Wow. You definitely are twins.” you say before you can stop yourself. 

Sam snorts. 

“You got yourself a smart one here, Tom.”

Tom flips his brother off and rests his hand on your thigh, as if to apologise for his div brothers. If you’d felt a few stray butterflies when you and Tom met, there was an entire ecosystem of butterflies in there now. He does it so casually, but if you looked closer you’d see the tips of his ears flushed bright red under his hair as he gauged your reaction. 

“Right, you’re up now Y/N.” said Harry as he returned to the group after his turn. “You can’t put it off any longer.”

You sigh. 

“I’ve literally never played before,” you give a general disclaimer as you take the club Tom held out for you. 

You line yourself up near the ball and squint into the distance. You can’t even see where the hell this ball is meant to end up. 

“So I just kind of whack it in that general direction?” you ask. 

“Hold up,” Tom jogs over to you. “Let me give you a hand?”

You nod gratefully. 

Tom stands behind you, wrapping his strong arms around you to grip the club over your hands. He rests his head right over your right shoulder. 

“Right, bend your knees slightly love…yeah, that’s it.” 

He presses his knees into yours to show you how much to bend them and you breathe in sharply as you can feel all of him pressed up against you. 

“We’re going to do a practice swing, okay? So back like this…and then you’re gonna just bring it smoothly through,” he helps you practice. “Ready?”

You nod. 

“He definitely did not teach me this thoroughly,” Sam whispers to Harry. 

Tom tightens his grip on your hands and gently helps you swing your body back, then together you swing the club cleanly through the ball. He twists you slightly past your original position, pressing his right knee into the back of yours as the ball sails through the air. 

“Look at it go!” you giggle and Tom cheers, wrapping you in a tight hug. 

“You did so good, love!”

Tom takes the club from you gently, resting his hands on top of it behind your back. He smiles at you and leans in ever so slightly, his eyes fluttering closed-

Ahem. Sam and Harry clear their throats simultaneously, and you and Tom jump away from each other. 

“Uhm-” you stutter. “Did we say we were gonna go get some lunch?”

“Yeah!” Tom agrees. “We were gonna go get some lunch. Let’s go get some lunch.” 

He turns away from you and deposits the club back in its bag. 

“Coming, you lot?”

Despite your awkward almost-kiss with Tom, he’s back to normal during lunch. You and Sam sit on one side of the table in a booth, with Tom and Harry sitting across from you in chairs. You and Tom find your legs entangling under the table and sharing giggly, flirty glances as the twins do their best to mortify Tom, sharing embarrassing childhood stories. 

“Y/N, you’re definitely gonna have to come visit London so we can go golfing again when Tom comes home,” Harry laughs, wiping a stray tear of laughter away. 

You blink. 

“You’re going home?” you ask Tom. “When?”

Tom pales, mentally slapping Harry for spilling. Although to be fair, Harry had no way to know that Tom wouldn’t have told you, being his ‘girlfriend’ and all. 

“Uh, I mean, at the end of November, so, next week.” he admits. 

“Next week?!” you shriek, blushing as you realise how loud you’re being. “You’re leaving next week and you didn’t even tell me?” 

“Hold on,” says Sam. “You didn’t know that Tom was coming home with us next week?”

You feel as though the room is spinning as you get up from the table, ignoring the boys’ calls to come back. 

“I have to go,” you say helplessly. “I’ll get an Uber, I just don’t wanna be around you right now.”

The last thing you see is the stricken look on Tom’s face as you leave the restaurant, pulling out your phone to call an Uber through a wave of tears. 

liked by florencepugh, tuwaine, arianagrande and others

y/ninstagram☑️: hole in one ⛳️

hazosterfield☑️: i feel like this is sexual i just don't know how

ynswife22: ok yn i get it now 😩

tomholland2013☑️: 😏

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

tysm for reading! please consider reblogging, it really helps a writer out <3

series taglist: @scenesofobx @lnmp89 @mayal0pez @alisslahey @nahhcuhh @youcantseem3 @theekyliepage @racavalier @wh0reforbucknasty @moniffazictress11 @st3rgirl @liltimmyst @fangirling-galore @katknip @hackerholland

[chessyhoward]

A giggle slipped from between Chess' lips as Matty bumped her shoulder, her laughter mingling with his own in the dark of the bar. She wondered absently what they looked like to other people, their heads bowed together as they shared one side of the booth. Did the pretty waitress, bustling from table to table, who shot Chess a polite smile as she'd wiggled past her moments earlier, look at the two of them and see them for what they were? Just two co-workers sharing a drink after a long day, or to the untrained eye, did they look like something more?

"I don't think I really need to devise a scheme to get close to you, hon." she quipped, a blush high on her cheeks. Hearing herself back, a cocky, overconfident idiot, she shook her head, immediately searching for a way to take those words back. "I just mean, well, you're quite forward, aren't you?"

Not making things better, Chessy! she chided herself inwardly, practically feeling herself slump down in her chair.

When it came to Matthew Parker, Chess knew she was fooling nobody. Perhaps not even Matthew Parker himself. Despite all her denials, her voice pitching an octave or two higher when Joey and Poppy needled her about her "crush", she was certain she wore the truth of it plain on her face. The more time the two of them spent together, the harder she found it to hide. Her stomach fluttered against her will when they briefly locked eyes across the room, his smile no longer for the camera but for her, specifically. She was sure her voice sounded funny when it sounded out his name, so hard was she trying to stamp out any hint of endearment in it. Everything she knew about him, she liked. She liked his fierce, silly love for his friends, and how easy it was for him to bestow his affection upon them. She liked the loose linen shirts he wore, and the fact they were always unbuttoned a little too far down. She liked his penchant for hot pink, and she liked the way he took her seriously. She liked that very much.

It occurred to her, all at once, that she thought Hazel would like him very much, too. And then she banished that thought just as quickly. On what basis did she have the right to assume as such? Because she liked him? Hazel had taken so well to Henry and Diego and Micah. She adored them, in fact. But Chess had never introduced her daughter to someone like Matty. Someone she could see herself really, really caring for, if she would let herself.

"Hm, no?" Chess prompted, subconciously leaning into his side a little as he spoke. "Mess around with pliers and swatches of fabric, you mean?"

Her hands fluttering in mid air, she pressed on, "I find what you do interesting. I mean, your world, it's all I've ever wanted to be part of, really. And besides, you have your art. Which is... amazing, really. Incredible. We're not so different, I suppose. Not that I'm comparing what we do, I'm sure your art is-"

Trailing off midsentence, Chess lifted her eyes, her face growing hot as she realised just how close Matty was to her. The bright blue of his eyes trained on her like she was saying the most interesting thing in the world, instead of needlessly babbling.

"Beautiful." she breathed, a smile touching her lips. "I'm - I'm sure your paintings are really, really beautiful."

The Australian pulled in a shaky breath as Matty's fingertips grazed the apple of her cheek, brushing a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear. Her stomach fizzed, warm and content as she graced him with the full force of her smile.

"You really need to stop doing things like that." she teased, no malice in her voice as she gave his knee a soft nudge under the table. "Before I do something really reckless and silly, that makes us working together painfully awkward."

Flirty as Matty could be, he didn’t like to think of himself as a sleaze, and he desperately hoped that wasn’t how others perceived him. He saw no shame in admiring pretty people, nor in enjoying sex so long as it was between two happy, consenting adults and nobody was getting hurt in the process. And yet, there was still a part of him that felt ten shades of guilty for the feelings he appeared to be harbouring for both Chess and Jax. Though the two of them were his friends, and neither of them had uttered any sort of expectations from him with regards to their sweet little flirtationships, he often worried in case either of them might think he was leading them on. To be perfectly blunt, he thought they were both gorgeous, a strange thrill coursing through him any time he managed to coax a blush out of them.  

His situation with Jax was easy, simple, the two of them mutually consensual in their fleeting dalliances, and he had no doubt in his mind that, if either of them ever chose to take it that step further, he could easily fall for the other man someday. But with Chess, right from the get-go, there seemed to be something more. There was something about the girl that he couldn’t help but gravitate towards, a magnetism that he wouldn’t want to resist even if he knew how. The attraction had been instantaneous on Matty’s part, and everything about her seemed to endear him to her more and more each time they spoke. 

Matty was no stranger to flirting and teasing, to making it known to the other person that he was attracted to them, and that he’d be interested in taking things to the next level. Chess, however, seemed endlessly surprised by his high regard for her, always blushing and ducking her head, turning away from his compliments. A more fragile man might take offence at her behaviour, perhaps even assume she didn’t return his feelings, but Matty didn’t mind; He was merely content to be in her company in whatever capacity she’d allow him to be, and right now a walk through the city with her as she told him about her day felt like hitting the jackpot. 

As Chess looped her arm with his own, Matty glanced at her, offering her a smile. He couldn’t reciprocate her touch or pull her in, not with his hands full, but the gentle nature of it warmed his chest. It was nice to see a more relaxed version of Chess, someone who wasn’t so afraid to let her guard down and be affectionate. He pondered over that fact as they walked and he listened to her, nodding where appropriate as she told him all about her day. It was nice to hear that she was getting along well with the crew – it was rare that Matty worked on a shoot without his signature people by his side, but photographers and models always varied from job to job, and he’d found himself to be mostly lucky with the company he shared. He was glad that Chess was finding everybody as favourable as he did, and that she was finding an increase in hits on her pages too. 

As the two of them disentangled upon entering the bar, Matthew followed her lead, arching a brow when Chess showed a much bossier side of herself. He smirked in her direction as she wiggled her fingers in his direction, awaiting the bags that were currently weighing him down. It would be crass to admit as much, but the tone of her voice unlocked something within him that he hadn’t known existed, a pool of arousal stirring in the pit of his stomach. Clearing his throat, he handed her one bag at a time, doing as he was told and trying his best not to draw attention to the weight he now felt pressing between his legs. 

Instead, he simply slid into the booth beside her, being sure to tug his jacket down and tighter around his waist under the guise of being cold. 

“Well, isn’t this cosy?” Matty teased, leaning in to bump his shoulder against her own. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe this was all a reuse just to get close to me.” 

He laughed then, eager to enforce the fact that he was merely joking, a harmless jab. He didn’t want to make Chess uncomfortable, even if he did enjoy the delicate blush that so frequently graced her pretty face. 

“My day was uneventful, actually,” he shrugged as he thought back on his day.  

Nothing of real note had happened, and he found himself suddenly disappointed, wishing he could fabricate some sort of work-related drama just so that he could report it back to Chess. He paused momentarily, wondering if he could muster up something interesting to rattle off to the girl, falling flat as he recalled his below-average day. In truth, he’d simply stood there looking pretty for the vast majority of it, her own day sounding far more exciting. 

“Lots of standing, lots of pouting. A touch up here and there,” he sighed, waving a hand of dismissal. “What I do isn’t nearly as interesting as what you do, Francesca.” 

He meant it, too. He shifted in his seat, then, their close proximity suddenly startling as he turned to truly look at her. Reflexively, he lifted a hand as he noted a few rogue strands of hair tickling her cheek, his breath seeming to leave him as he regarded her perfectly windswept look. Carefully, he tucked the stray hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek in the process. 

“There we are,” he smiled, giving her a final once-over. “Perfect.” 

[charnelhouse]

Poly tf ask: Imagine them out in a bar, and the guys had an argument with her earlier, she had been mad at them all evening. A veryyyy handsome guy starts to flirt with her and she gets into it to make the guys jealous, which one would be the first the stop it ?

A/N: TF! Boys x F!Reader. Mystery Dude x Reader. Mentions of punishment vibey sex. Jealousy. Violence. Guess who the dude she has a past with is?? He's famous.

You tell them you’ll meet at the bar. It’s your Friday ritual - date night, in theory.

But they’d pissed you off - taken a mission without your knowledge and weren’t even going to bring you.

It’s quick, baby. Two days max.

We thought you wanted to take a break.

You’re still getting over that flu.

No. The reason was that the last time you all went on a mission, you got injured. A knife in your thigh and you’d lost a lot of blood - practically drained out into Benny’s hands. It hadn’t been a huge deal. But you knew the guys - you knew the way they thought and it had been close and everything was too fragile right now.

“We just got you,” Frankie murmurs - palming your cheek. “We - we just got all this and honestly we want to keep you safe. Just for this trip - just this time around. You’re still getting over that cold.”

So many reasons stuttered out and handed to you. They made Frankie say it because all of them knew, you were defenseless against arguing with him. He barely opened up as it was and when he held you and stared at you with those huge doe-brown eyes, you could only begrudgingly agree.

His confession like a pearl - like a truth that he was using all of his emotional energy to give you in the shell of his cupped hands.

It's so new. We're finally together. All of us. Let's - let's just try - you know I love you. We'll make it up to you - I swear - I promise - c'mere -

Still - you could be mad. You could be irritated and make them suffer for it. You weren’t a damsel and you weren’t going to be left behind. Having the flu a week ago was the only solid reason they had because you being wounded was definitely not good enough. They got hit or shot or stabbed just as often - maybe more.

The Patriarchy.

You shove yourself into the booth. The bar is an old hole in the wall. All the same patrons and most of them veterans. There were sports games on and 70’s rock thrumming through the walls. The table felt slightly sticky beneath your palms. The waft of grease from mediocre french fries and the yeasty smell of spilled beer.

You had an hour to kill before the boys got there. You’d come in early - wanting a buzz - wanting to clear your head before you saw them. You knew they’d be apologetic. You knew they’d be overly sweet and affectionate like butter wouldn’t melt in their mouth.

Fuckers.

A drink appears beneath your nose with a black-gloved hand wrapped around the glass. Your head shoots up to find pale blue eyes pinning you down. His dark hair is pulled back in a loose bun - stubble over a knife-sharp jaw. Sun-kissed golden skin and ruddy cheeks and too stunning for his own good and yours. He grins and there’s the shock of his teeth - white and movie star perfect.

“James?”

“Tequila right? Splash of grapefruit. Soda water,” He ticks off - pressing the glass into your hand. “I’m trying to remember.”

You laugh, cocking an eyebrow. “Don’t super-soldiers have photographic memories?”

He shrugs. “I’m past my first century. I think that shit wears off.”

He smiles at you again - warm and genuine and there’s that pause between you. That tremble of shared experiences - of time spent handling the grey-area missions for the lower factions of your government. A lot of weeks suffered in lonely countries and lonely rooms - taking orders from a voice over the phone.

Not exactly different from what you do now, but still...it had been different.

Before you can touch him, he wraps his arms around you - hauling you against his chest. The fresh smell of soap and aftershave and something expensive. So he’d been shopping - he’d been living -

“How the hell are you?” he asks.

You scoot towards the wall to let him in.

***

You’re drunk and it’s totally not fair because James can’t even get drunk. He can feel a slight buzz in his fingertips - the warm brush of the alcohol in his belly - but nothing serious.

“Here,” he says as he snatches your hand and shoves it over his chest. You can feel the steady pound of his heart and then the hot stretch of skin beneath his dark blue t-shirt. He tilts his chin down to watch you - his eyes curious. “See - that’s all liquor does - makes me obscenely warm.”

“That’s - that sucks.”

He chuckles and it vibrates throughout the shell of his body. You spread your fingers - suddenly aware of the muscles flexing over his breast. You pull your hand away - turning back to the table.

What the fuck are you doing?

You glance up at the entrance. They’d be here any second and here you were - practically in your old partner’s lap - drunk off your ass as you swapped war stories.

Remember Prague?

Uh yeah - I never got that oligarch's blood out of my jacket.

You still wear it?

Duh. It was expensive.

Yeah, but Paris?

Fuck. That was wild.

Probably the most fun I’ve had taking shelter like that.

We were in the catacombs.

Yeah. Exactly. It was cool.

Why? Because we were surrounded by your peers?

Damn. You’re in a mood tonight.

You bite your lip - shaking your head. “Fuck - I’m sorry. I-I had a really hard day and I haven’t entirely gotten over it.”

His expression grows serious - painted in those shades of somber that is just his flavor - that is like his second skin. He was still learning, after all. Learning how to be - just a guy.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His jean-clad thigh grazes yours - the heat of him slightly overwhelming. The smell, too. “Or we can just - drink more? You should probably order some food, though.”

“Wow - you’re like my dad.”

He winks at you, the dimple in his cheek like a bullet. “Just what all dudes want to hear from a gorgeous girl.”

You choke on your tequila - stuffing the back of your hand against your mouth. You feel tender - your blood rushing frantically beneath your skin. The flare of sensation and memory and chemistry because who wouldn’t have chemistry with James? He was beautiful in an almost untouchable way. He was also larger than life - a relic - a half-god.

He inches toward you - gently patting your back.

"I'm fine," you sputter. "Just - just something in my throat."

His face is so close to yours - his breath puffing across your lips and everything is foggy with the tangerine light of the bar and the liquor turning the background to a cycling blur. The loud beat of The Allman Brothers and then Queen and then The Rolling Stones and Heart.

“Maybe - you should eat something,” he murmurs and you’re just about to agree when you feel eyes on you. The heavy-weighted presence of a stare or stares and you peek across the bar and they’re looming like tall wraiths in the corner - like bodyguards or worse.

Santi. Frankie. Will. Benny.

All four of them lounging against the bar and ordering drinks and just fucking watching you and how long had they been there just observing? Benny and Frankie look like they could beat the shit out of something. Santi’s expression reads both stunned and agitated.

Will is the worst though. Will rarely gives you an inch - his feelings heavily masked unless he chooses to reveal them. But now - here - He looks like he can’t control himself - he can’t bottle up whatever is about to come bursting out of him. His nostrils flare - his blue eyes shadowed with genuine anger or jealousy or probably both.

You scowl. They’d asked for this. They’d tried to keep you home.

“Are you okay?” James asks as he squeezes your knee.

They’re not even going to walk over here. They’re just going to stand there like a bunch of idiots.

Well - fuck them.

You beam at him - fingers brushing over his leather clad hand - aware of the click and hiss of metal knuckles flexing. “I’m so good.”

He doesn’t seem to believe you, but he goes along with it. He was taught to read people and you have no doubt that he’s trying to assess the entire situation and why the air had changed. Something sparks inside you - something very mean and very stupid, but you’re too far gone at this point. You lean forward, combing his silky chestnut hair back - your lips at his ear. “Remember Dublin?”

His eyes widen - his mouth parting as his tongue darts across his generous lower lip. When he speaks his voice is slightly hoarse - careful and edged: “Yeah…I do.”

You sneak a glance over at the bar and it’s...well it’s not very good. Will’s jaw is clenched - his hands curled into fists. Benny looks like he’s this close to storming over here. Frankie and Santi are almost unreadable. Their expressions are shuttered and dark and you’re not going to get out of this very easily. You have no doubt that they’ll split you apart - punish you within an inch of your life and make you beg until you’re crying.

All of it in a pleasurable way of course. They'd never give you something you didn't want.

Your phone buzzes and something twists in your gut. The slight bite of nausea met with a sting of excitement. God, you’re fucked up. You know exactly what you’re doing.

You slide it open to the group chat - your vision zeroing in on the last few messages:

Benny: if that’s who i think it is...

Frankie: it’s time to go

Santi: you’re so fucked baby

“Hey,” A low voice sounds from the end of the table. Your head shoots up and Will is there - bold and ruggedly handsome. Golden as a spot of sun. His face is unreadable as he offers James his hand. “I don’t think we’ve met, but my girl here has told me a lot about you.”

He’s using his Captain tone - the one that is iron-made and impenetrable.

His gaze drifts over James’s shoulder to capture yours - his lips twitching. “Isn’t that right, babe?”

"Uh...yes?"

You were screwed.