#windows northern beaches

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[grasscore]

this song won't leave my head

[milla-frenchy]

Morning waves

3k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader x Frankie Morales | ao3

Summary: you meet two men who are on a road trip. You like the same things: the ocean, surfing, dancing and having fun

Warnings: 18+ mdni. threesome MFM, praise kink, fingering, public sex, oral (m/f), piv, dp, anal play, rimming, anal, spit as lube, creampies

No age specified

a/n: this is a contribution to Jamie’s ocean challenge @mermaidgirl30 thank you for this great idea 👌🙏

I've wanted to write Frankie for a while, and even more so after reading “Down the hall” @frannyzooey 😍😍 and this challenge was perfect to introduce him as my new Pedro boy. 

Dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

@aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing, for the ideas, and for holding my hand with this one, as always 💕 🫶

Masterlist

*********

The first rays of sunshine were already warming you through the windows of your car. You were driving towards the ocean, ready to enjoy its waves. Every morning, very early, you were going to your favorite surf spot. This morning like the others, a few other surfers were also present. Between each set, you were all waiting on your boards, straddling them, letting yourself be carried away by their calm movement.

“You’re impressive”, you heard behind you.

You turned around, and met the most beautiful, sweetest brown eyes you had ever seen.

“Frankie, another set is coming.” You didn't look at the man who had spoken, immediately turning your gaze towards the horizon and new waves that were forming. You surfed that set and a few more. 

When you were returning to the beach, you saw the man called Frankie taking off his wetsuit. The man next to him was doing the same. They smiled at you, when you approached them.

“Hi! I’m Joel, and this is Frankie.”

“Hi, guys!”

“Nice waves!” Frankie’s smile was really sweet. And cute.

“Yeah! Where are you from? I’ve never seen you before. And with that drawl…Texas, I guess?”

Joel laughed and replied “yeah, Austin. We’re on a road trip. Coming from northern California, heading to the south. Are you from here?”

“Yeah, I live here. I’m on holidays, enjoying the ocean.”

“That’s great! Seems like heaven here. Do you know any cool bars? We’ve just arrived, and we’re gonna stay for some time in this place,” Frankie asked. 

“Yeah, there’s ‘The lagoon’. I'm gonna be there around 6 p.m., if you wanna join me?

“Sure! We’ll see you there.”

You spent the evening with them at the bar. Frankie and Joel had been friends for a long time, they told you about their trip, their lives in Texas. Joel worked as a contractor and Frankie was an ex-military, doing jobs with Joel from time to time. They were nice, cool, and made you laugh a lot. They were not flirty nor pushy, and you felt good and safe in their company.

Joel had a certain self-confidence, and was more direct than Frankie. His brown hair was shorter. His smile was devastating. Every evening, when the three of you met again, he wore jeans and a blue or black T-shirt which accentuated his torso and biceps.

Frankie was a little shyer. His slightly longer hair called for your fingers with its brown curls. His eyes and smile were incredibly soft. He often wore lighter pants, gray or brown t-shirts. A cap that he only took off to surf. Both men were beautiful.

You spent the next evenings with them, dancing and drinking shots at The lagoon. Every day you looked forward to seeing them at the beach, then at the bar. They were doing pretty well at surfing, asking for some advice from time to time, and making great progress. 

One night, the three of you were on the beach, hoping to catch some Northern Lights. And you weren't disappointed. The sky was colored with pink, purple and blue lights, while you were lying next to each other on the sand, a little closer than usual. And when Frankie kissed your forehead and Joel your cheek as you were lying on the blanket between them, you felt heat in your core. You saw them differently for the first time.

The Lagoon was crowded. You sat on a stool at the counter, sipping your cocktail until you saw Joel enter the bar. He smiled at you and you wondered how many hearts he had broken. He was so hot. He joined you, hugged you and said “hey, sweetheart” with his Texan drawl.

“Isn’t Frankie here?” you asked him.

“He should be soon. He went to get a tattoo.”

“What, now?”

“Yeah”, he laughed.

You two danced, his hands settled on your hips. Slightly more intimate than usual. He smelled good. He smelled like the sun and the beach. He ran his hand over your back, which your summer dress barely covered. And when your eyes met, something was different.

You walked back to the counter, and he was smiling as he was drinking his beer. His eyes were fixed on you.

“What?” You asked him, smiling too.

“You’re damn pretty, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened slightly, hearing him. It was the first time he told you something like that. So directly. Even though last night, on the beach, the atmosphere was different between the three of you. Even though two minutes ago, when you were dancing, you felt the warmth of his fingers on your skin, and your hair stood up from the desire for him.

He waited for a few seconds, checking on your reaction. Took another sip. When he saw you smile at him again, he leaned towards you, his nose brushing against your cheek, his hand resting on your waist. You felt goosebumps again. Some electricity between you. And you saw in his eyes that he was feeling the same thing.

“Wanna have some fun tonight?”

You felt heat reach your cheeks but you nodded and murmured, “yeah.”

“Yeah?”

He got up, stood between your knees while you were still sitting on the stool, and leaned forward to kiss you. You felt your heart rate speed up. He placed his hands on your bare thighs and caressed them, slightly pushing the fabric up, as you ran your fingers over his biceps. Then he slipped one hand between your legs. Slowly. Stroking your inner thigh. You whimpered when his fingers brushed against your pussy through your panties.

“You want more, darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel...”

“You gonna let me finger you in here?” he asked, his cheek against yours. His soft beard against your skin.

“Yeah…”

He slid your panties to the side, and his fingers brushed against your folds, making you moan into his neck. He looked up and said, “hey, Frankie.”

You felt shy and tightened your thighs against his legs. He kissed your cheek then said in your ear, on the side where Frankie was standing to make sure he would hear “I’m sure he’d love to touch you too,” before looking back at you. His fingers were still brushing against your delicate skin, and you really wanted to feel him more. To calm the fire, burning you from the inside.

You looked at him, then turned your head towards Frankie. His stare was still soft, but not only. You saw the desire for you in his eyes. 

“Do it Frankie”, you told him. At that moment you didn't care about anything else anymore. The crowded bar. The people who could see you, and wonder what the three of you were doing. Or knowing too well what you were doing.

“Are you wet, baby?” Frankie asked.

You nodded and whined, the second Joel pushed a finger in your core.

“She’s soaked”, Joel said, nuzzling your neck, and you bit your lip. 

“Damn, baby,” Frankie moved closer, the two men now standing in front of you. When one of Frankie's fingers joined Joel's in your pussy, your fists clenched their shirts. One of them stroked your clit with his thumb, but you didn’t know who. It turned you on even more. Their fingers slid into your wetness, pumping your pussy at the same rhythm, and you tried to hold back your moans even if it was getting more and more difficult.

“You're gonna come for us?” You shook your head “I��I can’t. Not here. Too many people.”

“Forget about them. Soak our fingers, baby. And then we’ll have some time together in our van if you want.”

“Yeah…Yes. Fuck.” You felt their eyes fixed on you. They were close to you, so close, protecting you from the eyes of others. Your pussy tightened around their fingers and you were trembling more and more. You felt another thumb near your clit that soon replaced the other one, and whimpered. Your pussy was trickling, and they could have pushed more fingers in easily.

“Come for us, sweetheart. Right here, in this bar. God, you’re fucking hot.”

You bit your lip as you came on their fingers, your pussy clenching desperately on them. They kept fingering you through it, until one of them put your panties back in place, then your dress. You watched Joel lick his finger with a look full of desire, and your arousal increased even more. 

“Take me to your van, please. I need…I need more”, you breathed.

Frankie kissed your cheek, and Joel placed his hand on the small of your back as you got off the stool. Your legs were shaky and he held your elbow until you reached the parking lot then the van. Frankie offered to come to the back with him, on the mattress that they had already set up for the night, without knowing how it would end. You both lay there as Joel started driving. You didn't know where and right now you didn't care. Frankie was already leaning towards you, kissing your cheek then your neck. Your fingers ran through his soft curls. His hand rested against your face at first, then he brought it to his mouth. Licking the finger you had come on, just as Joel had done a few minutes before.

“Damn baby, you taste so good. Can I go down on you?”

“What, now?”

“Yeah. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

“Fuck…Ok.”

The van was swaying on a bumpy road when Frankie knelt between your thighs, and took off your dress, then your panties. He brought them to his nose and breathed them slowly, keeping his eyes on you, and the vision was intoxicating. The way they wanted you was driving you crazy. He turned the front of his cap backwards, and lay down between your thighs. He growled as he licked a long stripe between your folds.

“Jesus Christ, Frankie…you lucky bastard”, Joel said.

Frankie was already lapping at your pussy, and he was good at it. So good that you already felt a new orgasm building, while he was drinking all your wetness, his thumb twirling on your clit.

“Frankie…oh my god”, you whimpered. 

You heard Joel unzip his jeans and pull out his cock. “You’re so hot that Joel can’t help fisting his cock while driving, baby” he said, before licking your folds again.

“Fuck, of course I do. All these moans are killing me. How does she taste? Tell me.”

“The sweetest taste, man...” He grabbed your thighs to pull you closer to him. As if he wanted more, always more, and you couldn’t stop moaning.

“Jesus...” Joel growled, as you heard the sound of his wrist fucking his cock.

Your fingers were lost in Frankie’s brown curls, while his nose rubbed perfectly against your clit and his tongue roamed your pussy.

“Frankie…”

“Yeah baby, tell me.”

“Your fingers, please, need your fingers.”

“Like this, mmm?” he asked, pushing two fingers in you.

“Yeah…your tongue too, please.”

His lips surrounded your clit, sucking gently, before giving way to his tongue. His wrist gently pumped your pussy and you felt your wetness running down your folds to the sheets.

“Fuck, baby…I can hear the pretty little noises of your pussy from here, you’re so fucking wet.”

“I know, I know, oh my god, Frankie!” You squeezed his head between your thighs when you came, letting him lick your folds until you stopped shaking. The van's engine was off, but you didn't realize you had stopped. You heard the sound of the waves as Joel opened his door to join you in the back.

“Fuck sweetheart, look at that… he ate you good, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah…fuck”, you breathed out.

Frankie shifted aside slightly and Joel lay down, his shoulders between your knees. He caressed your folded thighs, and delicately licked your wetness, being careful not to stimulate your overly sensitive clit.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’. Lemme eat ya just a little, ok? “ he said, moving his hand up your sweaty stomach, to a breast that he grabbed. Frankie kissed your thigh, while he caressed your other breast. You moaned again, your stomach rising rapidly with your heavy breathing. Joel’s beard rubbed against your inner thighs. He ran his tongue flat through your folds, sometimes down to your tight ring. Before going back up again, tirelessly. You imagined their hard cocks and you couldn’t wait to feel them in you. 

“You want us to fuck you, baby?”

You nodded, “yeah, need your cocks.”

“Damn, could do this for hours. How do you want us?”

“I huh… I don’t know, I’ve never done that…with two men.”

They looked at each other then Frankie said “we’re gonna undress and we’ll see how it goes, ok?”

“Yeah, seems good.”

“If you’re not comfortable with something, you tell us right away, ok? We’re all here to have fun. Ok, darlin’?”

You nodded and smiled. They were so considerate and careful with you. You helped Frankie unzip his pants and take them off, then his boxers, and held your breath when you saw his cock. “We’ll go slow,  baby”. “We?” You widened your eyes and turned to Joel, already in his underwear, taking off his t-shirt. “Oh fuck”, you said when you saw his bulge. You brushed his crotch and he spread his thighs wider. He was so hard, and so big too. You whispered “fuck...” again, before getting on all fours, facing him. You took his cock out of his boxers, the precum glistening on his red tip. You spread it with your thumb and jerked his cock, while Frankie was caressing the roundness of your buttocks, kneeling behind you. You licked the tip, letting Joel’s taste run down your mouth and then your throat.

“You’re ready for me, baby?”

“Yes, Frankie.”

He nestled his cock at your entrance, pushing in. You whined when he thrust deeper, gripping your hips as leverage. And for a minute you didn’t move, Joel’s cock in your hand, catching your breath. Frankie kept thrusting until he bottomed out. Pushing on your walls.  And you started to suck Joel’s cock, his hands on your head, but letting you lead the pace.

You moved your hips back and forth, fucking yourself on Frankie’s cock. He wasn’t moving, letting you lead too. Your mouth on Joel’s shaft followed the movement of your hips at the same pace as you impaled yourself on the cock, piercing you.

“Fuck, fuck. Sucking me so good.”

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight. So good for my cock.” You loved how they were praising you. Frankie’s hands roamed your body. Your back, your waist, your hips, as your thumbs caressed Joel’s balls, your head still bobbing on his shaft, your lips gradually getting used to his size.

You pulled him out of your mouth and licked his tip, looking at him you asked, “Frankie, will you let Joel fuck me?”

“Of course, anything you want.”

You lay on your back, inviting Joel to come between your thighs. He lay there, his cock in his hand, and pushed in. Frankie lay against you, and turned your face towards him. Kissing you as Joel thrust in.

“Damn, sweetheart…Frankie was right, you’re so tight. Squeezing me so hard, fuck…”

You whined in Frankie’s mouth while Joel was kissing your neck. He thrust in slowly before pulling back. Repeating the movement endlessly, while your legs spread wide gave him full access. Frankie leaned down and took one of your breasts in his hand, sucking on the nipple, his lips wrapped around it. Joel gave you a forehead kiss, his thick cock buried in you. Sometimes Frankie would slide his hand up to your clit, rubbing it lightly, and your pussy would contract on Joel's cock, making him groan. Their mouths and hands were brushing your skin constantly. 

They took turns between your legs, drawing two new orgasms out of you. Seeing them, feeling them fucking you, one then the other, was turning you on desperately and your pussy was weeping. When one of them was kissing you, searching for your tongue with his, the other was kissing your neck, your cheek, sucking a nipple. You loved feeling their mouths on you at the same time.

They fucked you, one then the other, and they never seemed to get tired, filling your pussy perfectly each in their own way. Until you wanted more, and needed more.

“More? Tell us what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want you both…at the same time.”

“Oh, baby. You want our two cocks filling your two holes?” said Frankie, his cock buried in your cunt.

“Yeah, I’d like to try…”

“It’s ok, baby. We’ll go slow.”

“Yeah. Frankie?”

Frankie nodded, pulling out of you. 

“Get on me, sweetheart.”

Joel lay on his back and you straddled him, grabbing his cock and sinking on it. You brushed his cheek and kissed him, before pressing your chest against his, giving free access to Frankie.

He spread your buttocks, your ring was glistening by the wetness that had been flowing there continuously. He passed his thumb slowly, lingering very lightly over it, as you rolled your pelvis slowly towards Joel. Then Frankie leaned down and started to lick it, pointing his tongue against your tight muscle. His hands now gripping your ass, he softened it under the tip of his tongue. Sometimes dropping his saliva on it, and lightly pushing his thumb in. Then a little deeper. He did it patiently, taking his time to prepare you. He was feeling his cock twitching. Your head resting on Joel's shoulder, you were moaning continuously, overwhelmed by the cock in your pussy, and the tongue opening you little by little. They were so hot, they took care of you so well since the start of the evening at the Lagoon. Attentive to your desires, to your reactions. Slightly changing the pace or position depending on your respiration, the pressure of your hands.

Eventually, Frankie pulled away. “You still want it, baby?”

“Yes, yes. Just…go slow, please, Frankie.”

“Of course. Lemme wet my cock in her pussy a little, Joel”, he asked. You pulled away from Joel slightly and he pulled out, his cock rubbing against your clit. Frankie pushed his cock easily in your dripping pussy, fucking it with one hand on your hip, and his thumb on your ass. Joel placed his hand on your neck, his forehead against yours, and murmured “you gonna take us both, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, yeah…Yeah, I’m gonna take you both, oh my god I can’t believe it’s happening…”

Franck grabbed his cock in his hand, and positioned it against your ring.

“Kiss me, sweetheart”, Joel muttured, stroking your hair. You looked up at him, his hands cupping your cheeks before coming to press his lips to yours. Quickly, his tongue sought yours, just as Frankie pushed in. You felt the muscle resisting at first, then gradually giving up. You whined in Joel’s mouth, his tongue never stopping brushing yours. You knew he wanted to make you forget the pain. Then he nibbled one of your lips, before licking it. Kissing you again. Until Frankie bottomed out, his balls against Joel's cock. He didn't stay buried and pulled back as slowly, before thrusting in again.

“Oh, fuck. Baby…it’s so good, fuck…”

“I can feel your cock Frankie, damn…are you ok, sweetheart?”

You nodded, unable to speak. Overwhelmed by all these emotions you were feeling. Your body was in the middle of theirs, and you felt fulfilled. Their hands were all over your upper body. Frankie’s mouth placed a thousand kisses on your shoulder blades and the back of your neck. Joel's hands caressed your breasts, your ass, your thighs. You heard them grunt and moan, in turn or together. You felt a new orgasm building, from rubbing your clit against Joel's lower abdomen.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come”, you whined.

“Come on baby, come again. Fuck, your ass is so good, baby.”

“Come on our cocks, sweetheart. Then we’ll fill you up. We’ll fill that pussy and that ass.”

“Oh fuck”, you whimpered, coming on their cocks, clenching them. You wondered if you hadn’t fainted, for a moment. 

You heard Frankie growling, and Joel calling you a “good girl”, just before he pulsed as deep as possible in you, followed by Frankie. 

You all froze, panting. Catching your breath. Then Frankie pulled back, placing one last kiss on your back. You pulled away from Joel after kissing him, and you lay against him. Frankie lay against you on the other side, spooning you, his hand on your hip. Their cum flowing from both of your sore holes.

You slept there, sometimes waking up during the night, feeling their bodies against yours or their arms around you. Snuggling against one of them then the other. 

When the rays of the sun woke the three of you and Frankie opened the van door, you had a direct view of the ocean. Its color was perfect. The most beautiful blue. And also these pastel, pink colors of the sky, at dawn. 

You spent the day with them. You surfed, took photos. Frankie’s freshly tattooed forearm with the word “adventure.” You looked at them so many times during that day. And every time your eyes met, you all blushed and giggled, thinking about the night you had spent.

You returned to the Lagoon, and didn't leave them until they finally gave up on the idea of going all the way to Southern California. They called you “our girl”. Their hands, tongues and cocks roaming every inch of your body, just as yours on theirs. They stayed with you until they had to return to Texas.

The day before, Frankie went to get another tattoo. Joel told you Frankie always got one at every place they visit, a tattoo of the best thing there. He showed it to you when he came back: a surfboard with your name on it. You hugged him so tight that he could barely breathe and couldn’t stop laughing, squeezed by your arms.

At the airport, they held you until the last minute. And your heart sank when they left.

A few months later, you were sitting at the same airport. Ready to board for Austin. So that they, in turn, could introduce you to their lives.

You looked at the sun through the large windows of the airport, and smiled. Life offers good surprises sometimes. Yours was Joel and Frankie.

Thank you for reading 🙏

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

another Joel/reader/Frankie fic (different AU): Morning waves

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[tagsecretsanta]

From @cookidoughlilac

From @cookidoughlilac to @fishladishere

Ikea shark –

"There's fish on the wrapping paper, so this must be yours, Gordie! Looks like Santa got you a big gift this year!”

Gordon's eyes twinkled as Jeff manoeuvred himself under the tree, delicate wrapping paper crinkling under his hand as he pulled a large, squishy present from the pile.

True to his father's words, deep blue paper with little colourful fish appeared from under the tree skirt, complete with a snow-tipped name tag and Gordon's name in swirly red lettering. He reached out to take the present from Jeff, giggling at its size as he hugged it against himself. Despite its wrapped nature, Gordon could tell that it was soft. And big. Gordon had always thought himself to be quite tall for his age, but the mysterious gift was easily longer than him! 

Santa must have really liked his effort at being good this year. A present this grand would have been reserved for children on the nice list, after all, just like his brothers. They were always good, and Gordon wanted to be just like them.

"Would you look at that? The present's as tall as you, kiddo - what do you think it is?" 

Gordon turned to his grandmother, giving her the biggest grin as she took a picture of him. As keen as he was to open his gift, he couldn’t resist posing for a photo or two.

But what could it be? Gordon felt as though he was at a loss. He racked his little brain as best as he could, but his thinking on what was big and soft came up blank. He shook his head and shrugged, hugging the wrapped gift tighter to his chest.

"Why don’t you open it? Jeff asked, chuckling at his second youngest’s actions, “that way, you can hug it properly, no?”

Well, he didn’t need telling twice.

Gordon eagerly tore open the fish themed wrapping paper, practically squealing in delight as plush blue and white fabric peeked from underneath. Further unwrapping revealed the mysterious gift: a soft, and oh so big, shark, sporting the words ‘blåhaj’ on a label by the tail.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look!” Gordon exclaimed, spinning himself around from Sally so he could face Jeff, holding the shark high above his head, “Santa got me a shark! A real life shark!”

Gordon heard his brothers, Grandma and parents chuckle in amusement, but in that moment, all he felt was sheer excitement for his new favourite item in the whole, wide world. He bounced in excitement, grinning wildly as he hugged the shark against himself.

Best Christmas ever!

Beach Christmas –

Gordon regarded the endless expanse of ocean before him. Even though the sun was barely peeking up over the horizon, it was warm. Uncharacteristically so for December… or rather, by his standards. Decembers were usually cold, perfect for curling up by the fireplace with a thick blanket and a cup of hot chocolate. He was used to seeing snow gently pile up outside frosted windows, blanketing the world in a brilliant white that glistened in the moonlight. He was used to shoving freezing hands into warm pockets, face half obscured by a chunky scarf, mist visible with every breath.

He was used to the wintery Decembers of the northern hemisphere. The place he’d called home for his entire life.

This, though? The whole ‘standing on a beach at 6am in 25ºC heat with swimming trunks on and a towel draped over the shoulders’ thing? This was different.

There was a gentle breeze in the air, warm and inviting, gently swaying palm trees and colourful flowers in an almost hypnotic rhythm. The sound of water lapping at the shore seemed to lull the world – the island – into a peaceful sense of tranquillity. As though nothing bad could reach the shores of the oasis he found himself living in.

He wriggled his toes in the sand beneath him. It was soft, warmed by the sun, though not yet to the extent of burning skin. The heat was enough to spread warmth throughout his body in ways that melted stress and tension from tired muscles. If he hadn’t already been set on going for a morning swim, Gordon would have felt overcome with the need to curl up for a nap under the palm trees.

It was different, yes. But magical.

He knew his brothers, father and Grandmother wouldn't be awake for another few hours, which was perfect. It gave him plenty of time to go for a swim and dry off on the beach before the festivities of the day began.

He removed his towel from his shoulders and placed it over a palm trunk that had grown sideways over time, giving the wood a light push for good measure to watch it sway. Once satisfied with its swingability, Gordon turned back to face the ocean, pausing only momentarily to take in a deep breath. The smell of the sea was undoubtedly alluring – perhaps he’d suggest for the Christmas barbeque to move from the patio to the beach…

Gordon was quick to wade and submerge himself into the ocean, the feeling of water lapping over his skin immediately comforting. This was where he felt most alive – in a body of water with not a care in the world. The sun, still steadily climbing in the sky, cast mesmerising patterns across the water and ocean bed below, each colour more vibrant than the last.

He moved to float on his back, letting the sun warm his face as he closed his eyes. He let the water ebb and flow around him, gently drifting in peace.

Perhaps he could get used to hot Christmases. Naturally, the move to Tracy Island and the start of a new venture masterfully envisioned by his father meant that Christmas was unlikely to ever be normal again, but so long as he had his family and the ocean… perhaps it would all be alright.

[unsoundedcomic]

Whumptober 2024 - 06 - "Not Realising They're Injured"

The Sonorie winter palace was in Alauri Beach, a dreamy subtropical district hugging Cresce's southernmost border. Northern districts feared Alderode and ill-intentioned Sharteshanian encroachment; locals said Alauri Beach's only enemy was the sea. Here the country harvested salt and seafood, chocolate and jewel-hued alien fruit that, after nearly a decade sequestered there, Roger still couldn't identify by name. He'd adjusted to the food, the mosquitos, the heat, the downpours, but loneliness remained a constant bedfellow. Even when his hosts provided alternatives.

Roger didn't spare a glance to the unclothed boy dozing in the fine satin bed behind him. Instead, from a high window of pebbled cerulean glass, he watched the waves lick the white sand shore far below, and thought of Mallory's mouth; of Mallory's dark lips parting to reveal Mallory's shell white incisors; of his bottom teeth rising to lightly close upon Mallory's tongue and stop him grunting as he came in Roger's throat.

Roger liked that thought, smiled, and added it to the letter unwinding from his quill.

He hadn't tasted that mouth in so many years. Sometimes he wondered if he hadn't dreamed their fiery affair. He'd certainly taken to romanticizing it in these ridiculous letters they shared, filling perfumed pages with whole bouquets of florid prose. Prick like a pine trunk. Creamy emissions sprayed across tendinous thighs and round, rosy ass. Ember eyes red and snapping. Roger thought he'd become quite the poet. But poetry by necessity was perhaps not as sweet as the lazy verses he'd written when he was younger, when life was easier, and Mallory was at hand to inspire his pen.

Roger slapped at a mosquito. Black legs and his own blood smeared his palm. His neck stung.

The palace was gorgeous. His personal quarters well suited the Queen's third husband. Its high stucco walls were covered in the softest gauzy drapes, and those drapes were slashed by golden cords pymarically aglow with shifting sun shafts and dancing firefly particles. Even the fine Foi-Hellick estate had not been this lavish, this luxurious with pymaric accoutrements. Fountains of emerald water burbled in each corner. Fragile blue fawns passed between them, sipped, would bow their heads respectfully if Roger met their eye. They were only glamours of course but he'd never seen finer. The peacocks too, and the songbirds. They peeled themselves off the walls every half hour, strutted about, clucked, sang, then replaced themselves in their murals. They smelled like sandalwood and one of the exotic fruits he couldn't name. It was the most beautiful room he'd ever seen, much less lived in.

Yet Roger thought of Mallory's strutting, Mallory's singing, Mallory's smell.

"It's a spear in my heart," he wrote, "That these glamours are more real to me than you may ever be again. If we don't meet soon, I hope the next assassin finds me alone and unguarded. Every day without you is a curse."

Gods, his neck hurt. Roger touched the bite but it wasn't bleeding. Perhaps the mosquito'd had that poxy fever that his servants warned him of sometimes, and now he was infected. Well, he shouldn't write so carelessly of dying, he supposed. The gods loved to ironically strike men down. But that would be poetry too, wouldn't it? He'd die long before Sonorie's people found the efheby.

Wait.

Efheby?

Was Mallory already-

From his bed, the boy muzzily called: "Lord Foi-Hellick?" Roger's thoughts scattered. "Why don't you tell me what I can do for you?"

Roger dropped his pen, gave his head a little shake to further scatter the blood-sucking swarm. "There is… there is naught to be done for me," he answered, "Not here. Not in this country."

"Pretend we are not in this country then. We will be in whatever country my Lord commands."

Roger stood. He turned from the pretty cerulean window, from his view of the southern sea. "Can you speak Tainish?"

Like marketplace produce, the boy in his sheets was beautifully arrayed, one leg bent beneath him, his soft cock sleeping on the cushion of his thigh. He nodded, and when he flashed his teeth in a smile, maybe there were too many teeth. Maybe they were the wrong shape.

"Ssa, maenhilo alata," he answered in the language of Roger's fathers, in the same ancient cadence Mallory used, "It is fine. I will speak any tongue my Lord desires."

[princesssszzzz]

Northern Heat

Word count: 6.4K

Warnings: Fire/Ice Smuttiness

Pairing: Baegan ~ Baela x Cregan

Summary:

A flirty Baela spends a night with her tennis coach Cregan Stark after an unexpected encounter at a bar. Modern!AU

Read on AO3

Baela leaned back in her chair, letting out a sigh as she sipped her iced latte. The sun streamed through the large windows of the campus coffee shop, warming her, the wooden tables, and the scattered groups of students enjoying their break. The place was lively but not too crowded, with the hum of conversation mixing with the sound of the espresso machine hissing in the background.

Aly took a bite of her toast, smirking at Baela. “So, you’re telling me you’re spending extra hours at tennis practice just to stare at his muscles?”

Baela laughed, trying to hide her grin. “I mean, have you seen them? The guy’s sculpted. And the way his shirt clings to him when he serves. It’s hard to focus on my backhand when I’ve got that in front of me.”

Netty sipped her cold brew, raising an eyebrow. “You know, you could just ask him out. It’s not like he’s your professor.”

Baela rolled her eyes, shaking her head, letting her growing curls fan her face. “It’s not that simple. Cregan is different. He’s not like the boys around here. He’s all about honor and doing the right thing. I think if I even hinted at something, he’d probably run the other way.”

“Or maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment,” Aly said, winking. “You’re the best player he’s coached. Maybe he’s more interested in improving your game than anything else.”

“Yeah, right,” Baela scoffed. “I’m there every other day pretending I need more practice just to spend time with him. He’s so serious about it too, like ‘Baela, you need to work on your footwork’ or ‘Baela, you’re getting too aggressive on your returns.’ Meanwhile, I’m just trying not to drool.”

Netty giggled at her ridiculous deep-voiced impressions of their coach. “You could always just stop pretending, and show him how good you actually are. Then maybe he’ll take you seriously as more than just a student.”

“Maybe,” Baela mused, stirring her drink. “But I don’t want to scare him off. He’s kind of old-fashioned, you know? And I like the way things are right now, even if he’s all ‘Coach Stark’ and nothing else.”

They let their conversation drift to other topics. The class assignments and weekend plans but Baela’s thoughts kept circling back to Cregan. She pictured him at the tennis courts, his focus entirely on her form and technique, those deep blue eyes watching her every move. He was always so composed, so controlled, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more beneath the surface, something he wasn’t letting show.

As they finished up their lunch, Baela’s phone buzzed with a message from her sister, Rhaena, who was off on some exotic beach vacation with Garmund in her gap year. *Wish you were here, B! Sun, sand, and no worries.* Baela smiled at the thought, but she was content with where she was for now. She was right in the middle of her own little game, where every day with Cregan was another serve in a match that had only just begun.

“Ready to head out?” Aly asked, gathering her things.

“Yeah,” Baela said, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?”

“You’re not seriously going back to the courts again, are you?” Netty teased her, speaking loudly so Aly wouldn't miss her calling out Baela.

Baela just grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

As they left the coffee shop, Baela’s thoughts were already on tomorrow’s practice, wondering if maybe Cregan would notice that she wasn’t struggling with her backhand after all.

Baela’s silver curls bounced as she sent the tennis ball flying over the net, her lilac eyes focused on the game. The afternoon sun just barely lit up the courts, contrasting her Targaryen features and the rest of the world even more pronounced. She was used to standing out. No one else on this campus had her ethereal look, and she always noticed how it drew attention. But today, her mind was less on her appearance and more on the man standing on the other side of the net.

Cregan Stark watched her with his usual calm focus, brown eyes steady and unreadable as he returned her shot. His brown hair was slightly tousled from their practice, and Baela found herself studying him in a way she never used to with others. His features were common enough. The typical brown hair and brown eyes. On Coach Stark though, it looked different, more intriguing. She’d never paid attention to those details in anyone else until she met him.

As they rallied back and forth, Baela decided to break the silence between the loud ball smacking. “You know, I’ve always liked your accent,” she said casually, before sending another ball his way.

Cregan paused mid-swing, nearly missing the ball as it flew past him. A faint blush crept up his neck, and he shook his head with a half-smile. “I don’t have an accent,” he protested, even though his deep voice tinged with that unmistakable northern lilt.

“Oh, but you do,” Baela teased, stepping closer to the net. “It’s that northern charm. Makes everything you say sound so rugged.”

Cregan chuckled at her, trying to mask his embarrassment as he retrieved the ball. “I never noticed.”

Baela twirled her racket in her hand, enjoying the way she could get under his skin. “I’m sure the girls back home notice. You must’ve broken a few hearts with that voice.”

Cregan leaned, shaking his head again but this time with a playful glint in his eye. “You’ve been watching too many romantic dramas. I’m just a guy who talks about tennis too much.” He respectfully lowered his head while wiping his sweat, thinking Baela would move on to talk about something else.

“Well, speaking of,” Baela said, trying to keep the conversation going, “how much do you lift at the gym? You’ve got some serious muscles, Coach.”

Cregan raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by the question. “Uh, I don’t keep track. Just enough to stay fit, I guess.” She grinned at his obvious lie and attempts to remain humble.

“Come on,” Baela pressed, moving closer to him as if she could coax the information out of him with her proximity. “And what about outside of tennis and working out? Do you live alone, or do you have someone waiting for you after practice?”

Cregan’s expression softened, and he let out a small sigh, recognizing the direction she was steering the conversation. “I live alone,” he said simply, his tone still guarded. “And most of my time outside of coaching is pretty quiet. Not much to tell.”

Baela tilted her head, studying him with those lilac eyes that always seemed to see more than people wanted to reveal. “Quiet’s not so bad,” she said softly, letting the moment linger between them.

Cregan cleared his throat, sensing the need to bring the conversation back to safer ground. “So, about your backhand,” he began, but Baela just laughed, cutting him off.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” her smile making it clear she wasn’t offended.

“It’s my job to make sure you’re ready for your next match,” Cregan replied, a hint of his smile forming. “And you’ve been slacking on your right footwork.” Baela rolled her eyes, but there was warmth in her voice as she said, “Alright, Coach. But one of these days, you’re going to have to stop hiding behind the tennis court.”

Cregan’s gaze met hers before she moved, and for a brief moment, the professionalism he clung to wavered, revealing a flicker of something more. But just as quickly, he composed himself, nodding toward the baseline. “Let’s see that backhand, Targaryen.”

Baela smiled, turning to take her position. “Whatever you say, Stark,” she called over her shoulder already planning her next move, both on and off the court. -

The drive out to the small, off-the-beaten-path bar had been filled with laughter and loud music as Baela, Aly, and Netty left their school and annoying classmates far behind. They were in the middle of nowhere now, hours away surrounded by fields and old farmhouses that looked nothing like the sleek buildings they were used to in the city.

“This place is so different,” Netty said, leaning forward from the back seat. “It’s like we’ve stepped back in time or something.”

Baela grinned, her lilac eyes scanning the quaint, almost hick-town vibe of the area. “Yeah, it’s kind of nice not having to deal with any of those idiots from school, though.”

“True,” Aly added as she navigated the narrow road slowly, trying not to crash. “I swear, if I have to hear another guy try to impress me by talking about his car, I’m going to scream.”

They all laughed, the kind of carefree giggle that only comes when you’re far enough from your usual world that it feels like nothing can touch you.

When they finally pulled into the gravel parking lot of the bar, the place looked like something out of an old movie. Wooden beams, dim lighting, and a jukebox playing some country song in the corner. It was perfect for a night of just being themselves.

As they grabbed a booth and ordered drinks, the conversation turned to family. A topic that was always full of drama for Baela.

“So, what’s the latest with your mom?” Aly asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Baela shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. “She’s good. She spent so long raising me and Rhaena, so we’ve been telling her to ignore my dad and go be a model, do whatever makes her happy. I even told her to cheat on him if she bumps into hot actor or something.”

Netty snorted into her coke. “Goddamn, Baela. That’s cold.”

“Why not?” Baela said with a laugh. “It’s not like he’s ever around. He’s too busy doing whatever dirty work my uncle has him wrapped up in. Pretty sure he’s a criminal, honestly.”

“At least you’ve got money,” Netty said, half-joking. “I mean, I grew up broke. Had to hustle for a scholarship just to get into our school. Now I steal food for fun, even though you keep offering to pay for everything with your dad’s credit card.”

She giggled at her kleptomaniac tendencies, almost getting her and Aly arrested once at a mall.

Baela rolled her eyes but smiled. “You know I don’t care about the money.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Netty waved her off with a grin. “But where’s the fun in swiping a card?”

They all laughed again. It was nice to let loose, especially with the chaos of their lives. As they settled into the vibe of the bar, they listened to Aly rant about bailing her cousin out of jail before Baela spoke again. She decided to share something that had been gnawing at her.

“Speaking of cousin drama,” she began, lowering her voice a little, “Aegon’s been following me around again, trying to.” She widened her eyes. “Well, you know.”

Aly and Netty exchanged looks of disgust. “That’s messed up,” Aly said, shaking her head. “He’s so disgusting.”

“Yeah, tell him to back off,” Netty added. “Or better yet, just smack him.”

Baela sighed. “I know, it’s just yuck.”

Before they could dive further into that conversation, Baela’s attention was suddenly caught by a loud burst of deep laughter from the bar. Her eyes widened when she realized it was Cregan, clearly drunk and surrounded by a group of guys. He was louder than she’d ever heard him, his usual stoic demeanor replaced by something much rowdier.

“What?” Baela started, blinking in surprise.

Aly followed her gaze and grinned. “Well, well, if it isn’t Coach Stark letting loose.”

Netty peered, trying not to look too hard. “He’s hot even when he’s a mess. Bless him.”

Baela felt her heart skip a beat. She had a crush on Cregan, sure, but seeing him like this was a shock. She’d never imagined him as anything other than the serious, honorable guy he was on the tennis court. This side of him, drunk and loud, was completely new.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” Baela muttered, still trying to wrap her head around it.

Aly nudged her with a smirk. “Maybe now’s your chance to see what he’s really like.”

Baela hesitated, watching as Cregan laughed with his friends, his brown hair looking disheveled and his usually sharp eyes completely relaxed. It was weird seeing him so unguarded, but part of her was curious, maybe even excited, to see this side of him.

“Go on,” Netty urged, "Go say hi.”

Baela took a deep breath, then nodded. “Okay, but if this is a disaster, I’m blaming you two.”

With that, she slid out of the booth and made her way over to the bar, her heart racing. As she got closer, Cregan looked up and noticed her, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer.

“Baela?” he said, his voice a little slurred but still familiar. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, trying to sound casual as she leaned against the bar.

Cregan chuckled, though it was rougher than usual. “Just, having a night out, I guess.”

Baela smiled, but she could feel the awkwardness in the air. He was shocked to see her there. This wasn’t the Cregan she was used to, and it threw her off. “Well, it’s good to see you, Coach. Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking into his drink. “Didn’t think you’d see me like this, either.”

There was a beat of silence before Cregan looked back up at her, his usual guarded expression slipping away for just a moment. “You having a good time with your friends?” He peered over at the two girls failing to hide that they’d been watching him.

Baela nodded, sensing a vulnerability in him that she hadn’t noticed before. “Yeah, we needed to get away from school for a bit and get a drink.”

Cregan smiled faintly, then gestured to his drink. “Want a round? My treat.”

Baela was about to say no to be polite, but then she saw the way his eyes held a glint of something. Curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself nodding. “Sure, why not?”

As they stood at the bar, drinks in hand, Baela couldn’t help but feel like she was seeing a new side of Cregan.

-

Baela twirled on the dance floor, her silver curls catching the light as she moved to the beat of the tenth unfamiliar country song. She didn’t care that she didn’t know the words. All she cared about was the feeling of freedom that came from being miles away from campus, far from the prying eyes of their annoying classmates.

Aly and Netty danced alongside her, laughing as they tried to keep up with the rhythm. The bar was small and a bit rundown, but it had a certain charm that made it perfect for a night like this. It was just the three of them, letting loose and enjoying the night without a care in the world. No cousins. No school.

As Baela spun around again, she caught a glimpse of Cregan at the bar. He was alone now and was watching her, his brown eyes fixed on her every move. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, making her heart race. It was a look she wasn’t used to from him, one that was far from the usual stern and professional expression he wore during practice.

He was still sitting at the bar, his drink in hand, but he hadn’t taken a sip in a while. Instead, his attention was entirely on her, as if she was the only other person in the room. Baela’s stomach fluttered at the thought. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this, and it was throwing her off balance in the best way possible.

When the song ended, Aly and Netty finally decided to take a break, leaving the dance floor and giving Baela a knowing look as they headed toward a booth in the corner. “Go talk to him,” Netty whispered with a grin before she and Aly retreated to the bathroom to give Baela and Cregan some privacy.

Baela hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. Then, summoning her courage, she made her way back over and slid onto the stool next to Cregan. His eyes followed her every move, and the heat of his gaze was almost palpable.

“You guys sure know how to make a statement.”

She blushed at his comment, feeling a little more emboldened by the alcohol coursing through her veins. “Well, it’s not every day we end up in a place like this. We figured we’d go big or go home.”

He gave her a lazy smile that sent another shiver down her spine. “You certainly did that.”

Baela bit her lip, noticing the way his gaze lingered on her mouth before he finally took a sip of his drink. “You're different tonight,” she observed, her tone curious. “Looser, I guess.”

Cregan’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Maybe that’s because I’m not on the clock. No reason to be uptight when I’m off-duty.”

Baela raised an eyebrow, still not entirely convinced. “Or maybe you’re just drunk.”

He shook his head, the smirk never leaving his face. “I’m of sound mind, I promise. This is just what we do in the North. We drink, we let loose, we have a good time. That doesn’t mean I’m not in control.”

Baela felt her pulse quicken at his words, the flirtatious edge in his voice catching her off guard. “You’re not worried about getting too carried away?”

Cregan’s eyes darkened slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Depends on what you mean by ‘carried away.’”

Baela swallowed hard, her mind racing to keep up with the sudden shift in their conversation. This wasn’t the careful, measured Cregan she was used to.

“So,” she began, trying to keep her voice steady, “what would you do if I told you I wanted to get carried away?”

Cregan’s smirk faded into something more serious, more intense. “I’d ask you if you were sure that’s what you really wanted.”

Baela’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol talking or if she was really feeling this way, but suddenly, the idea of getting carried away with Cregan didn’t seem so crazy.

Before she could respond, though, he leaned back slightly, giving her a moment to think. “No one knows you’re my student here,” he said, his tone softer now. “It’s just you and me.”

The realization hit Baela like a ton of bricks. No one in this bar had any idea who they were or what their relationship was supposed to be. They were just two people in a bar, sharing a moment that could go anywhere.

“I’m not used to seeing you like this,” Baela admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cregan reached out, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Maybe it’s time you got used to it.”

Baela’s heart skipped a beat at his touch, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his words. She’d never seen this side of him before, but now that she had, she wasn’t sure she could go back to pretending he was just her coach. Not when he was looking at her like this.

Around them, the bar continued to buzz with activity, but for Baela, the only thing that mattered was the man sitting beside her. The man who, in this moment, wasn’t just her coach but something much more.

As the night wore on, the bar began to empty out, leaving only a few stragglers nursing their last drinks. Netty and Aly finished their dancing, cheeks flushed and smiles wide, before grabbing their things and heading toward the exit. They waved at Baela on their way out, giving her one last teasing grin before disappearing into the night.

Baela watched them leave, then turned back to Cregan, who was still sitting beside her. He signaled the bartender for another round of drinks, a mischievous grin on his face. “You might be a tough girl, Baela, but you’re still a city girl through and through,” he teased.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Baela shot back, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You said you wanted a cocktail or martini earlier. But this place? It’s all about the beer.”

Baela rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine, but only because you’re buying.”

Cregan grinned as the bartender set down two new frosty mugs of beer in front of them. “See? You’re getting the hang of it.”

They clinked their heavy mugs together, the cool beer a stark contrast to the warmth of the bar. The conversation flowed easily between them, and before they knew it, hours had passed, and they were the last ones left inside.

Eventually, Cregan tossed some cash on the counter, and they made their way outside into the cool night air. Baela couldn’t help but notice the old, beat-up truck parked in the lot, its paint chipped and rusted in places. She smirked, pointing at it. “That yours?”

Cregan glanced at the truck, then back at her, a wry smile on his face. “Yeah, what’s wrong with it?”

Baela laughed, shaking her head. “Nothing, just… it’s a little different from my new BMW, that’s all.”

Cregan smirked, leaning against the truck. “Your family’s got more money than mine for sure, but we’ve been around here longer. This old boy’s been through a lot.” He patted the creaky frame.

Baela grinned, appreciating his honesty. “Well, let’s see if it still runs.”

Cregan opened the passenger door for her, and she slid in, the worn leather seats creaking beneath her. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, she couldn’t resist making one last jab. “You sure this thing’s gonna make it out of the parking lot?”

Cregan shot her a sideways glance, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “It’s got a few more miles in it, just like me.”

He started the engine, the truck rumbling to life with a low growl. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Baela turned to him, her expression softening.

“Hey you don’t have to drive me home, you know,” she said, her voice teasing, trying to sound seductive.

Cregan glanced at her, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Oh? Where am I taking you, then?”

Baela leaned back in her creaky seat, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked him in the eye. “Your place.”

Cregan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened ever so slightly, and the flirtatious banter between them suddenly charged with yet another tension. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just kept his eyes on the gravel road as they drove through the dark streets.

Finally, he nodded, his voice low and steady. “Alright, Baela. My place it is.”

Cregan’s truck rumbled down a winding, tree-lined road, the headlights cutting through the darkness as they made their way to his place. Baela stared out the cracked window, the cool night air streaming in slowly. Her thoughts raced as she tried to make sense of everything that had happened that night. The sudden shift from playful banter to something far more intense and intimate was throwing her off but in the best way possible. She was finally getting what she wanted.

When they finally pulled up in front of a large but modest weather-worn house, Baela couldn’t help but smirk. The place had a certain rustic charm, but it was clear it had seen better days. The paint was peeling in places, and the porch looked like it could use some work. “Wow, Coach,” Baela teased, stepping out of the truck. “Ever think about renovating? You know, joining us in the 21st century?”

"It’s a little rough around the edges, but it’s home,” he replied, his tone still playful. “It’s got character.”

Baela followed him up the loudly creaking steps, her eyes flicking to the worn wood beneath her feet. “Yeah, it’s got...something. Might want to start with replacing these steps before they collapse.”

He unlocked the door, shaking his head with a grin at her comments. “I’ll get right on that, Princess.”

Inside, the house was just as she’d imagined. Cozy and dated, with an old-fashioned feel that spoke to the house’s long history. The furniture was sturdy but clearly well-worn, and the decor was simple, with no frills or unnecessary luxuries. Her parents would hate to live in a place like this. It was a far cry from the sleek, modern interiors she was used to, but there was something undeniably charming about it.

Baela took it all in, walking around the small living room as she shrugged out of her jacket. “This place is definitely you, Cregan. Rugged, a little rough around the edges, but solid.”

Cregan appreciated the flattery, leaning against the doorframe as he watched her. “You’re full of compliments tonight, aren’t you?”

Baela turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just calling it like I see it.”

He shook his head, grinning while staring at her. “Make yourself at home, then.”

She walked over to the old couch, running her hand along the worn fabric before turning back to him with a teasing smile. “May I?”

Cregan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s sturdier than it looks.”

Baela didn’t miss the way his eyes followed her every move, the tension between them thickening with each passing moment. She bit her lip, feeling a thrill at the way he looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. With a playful glint in her eye, she slowly reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in one smooth motion.

Cregan’s breath hitched as she tossed the shirt aside, leaving her in just her bra and low-rise jeans. “Baela.”

She smiled, reclining on the old couch as if it were the most comfortable thing in the world. “You said to make myself at home.”

His eyes darkened, the air between them sparking up as he pushed off the doorframe and took a step toward her. “Baela.” He repeated her name.

She leaned back, resting her head against the arm of the couch as she looked up at him, her voice soft and teasing. “Yes?”

Cregan’s jaw tightened as he closed the distance between them, the space shrinking until he was standing right in front of her, looking down at her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her body.

Baela’s heart pounded in her chest as she met his gaze, the banter between them fading into something far more serious, far more sensual.

Baela watched as Cregan stood over her, his usually guarded expression replaced with something raw and intense. The tension that had been simmering between them finally reached a boiling point, and she could feel the electricity crackling in the air.

She tilted her head back, her silver curls spilling over the arm of the couch as she gazed up at him, a soft, teasing smile playing on her lips. “Are you just going to stand there, Coach? Or are you going to join me?”

Cregan’s eyes darkened, the usual restraint he showed around her nowhere to be found. He slowly knelt beside the couch, his hands resting on her knees as he gently pushed them apart. His touch was careful, almost reverent, but there was a hunger in his eyes that made Baela’s heart race.

“You’re something else, Baela,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You know that?”

She laughed softly, the sound light and breathless. “I’ve been told that once or twice.”

Without another word, Cregan leaned down, his lips brushing against her skin as he kissed a slow path along her inner thigh. Baela’s breath caught in her throat, her teasing demeanor slipping as a shiver of anticipation ran through her.

The scruff of his beard grazed her skin, the sensation both ticklish and incredibly intimate. She let out a surprised giggle, the unexpected feeling breaking through the seriousness of the moment. “Your beard,” she whispered, her voice full of laughter. “It tickles.”

Cregan paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked up at her. “You like it?”

She nodded, biting her lip to stifle another giggle. “It’s different. Good different.”

With a low chuckle, he returned to his slow exploration, his hands firm and sure as they guided her hips closer to him. Baela’s laughter faded into soft gasps as the sensation of his mouth on her skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through her. The playful banter between them melted away, replaced by something deeper, more intimate.

Time seemed to blur as they lost themselves in the moment, the connection between them intensifying with each passing second. When Cregan finally moved to kiss her, his lips claiming hers with a fierce passion, Baela responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

She moaned into his mouth, tasting him. He tasted like mint and the faint traces of cinnamon, a mix that uniquely seemed like him. It made her crave more and when his hands trailed down her back to remove their clothes, she let out a small sigh of satisfaction, arching into him unconsciously. She felt him smirk against her mouth before he deepened the kiss.

Cregan lifted her effortlessly, guiding her onto his lap as he settled back against the worn couch. Baela straddled him, her hands bracing against his shoulders as she gazed down at him, her silver curls framing her face. She could feel the heat of his body beneath her palms, his breath warm against her lips as he looked up at her with so much desire.

His dark gaze traveled down her body, making her blush slightly, but he quickly caught her eye again. He smirked as if he knew exactly what was going through her mind. “You’re beautiful, Baela,” he breathed. “Everything about you is gorgeous.”

Baela flushed even darker as she bit her lip, moving in to kiss him again. She kissed him long and deep, feeling him respond hungrily as one hand came up to cup her breast, her hips grinding lightly into him. Her breathing quickened as he began to caress her, rubbing against her intimately. His erection pressed firmly against her stomach, which elicited a soft whimper from her. He smiled against her lips. “What do you want?"

He whispered huskily again when she didn't answer, too preoccupied with nipping him with kisses. "Tell me, baby."

Baela shook her head against his lips. She couldn't breathe properly, her chest heaving with the need for air as he continued kissing her senselessly. She ran one hand up his chiseled arm as he held her against him, his fingers digging into her hip bone.

He pulled away just enough to say, “Come on, you're always so brave. Don’t be shy now, tell me what you want.” His voice sounded hoarse and it took everything in her not to squirm in pleasure, her arousal flaring even more. “Please tell me what you want.” His tone was pleading and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“You know what I want Stark.” The words were barely audible as she fought to stay sane.

“I want to hear you say it, Baela. Please.”

Her breath hitched as his fingers slipped in between them, finding the opening between her legs. The cool air made her shudder as his fingers brushed against her sensitive skin. “Oh, god.”

She sighed before speaking again. "Fuck me."

“Yes,” he said immediately, pressing his lips hard against hers to emphasize his agreement as he licked his way around her breasts, kissing every inch of her exposed skin until his mouth found her nipple and lined himself up to her opening.

Baela cried out, arching upwards into him as she arched against him. His fingers teased her, teasing her until she begged him to thrust inside her. He complied instantly, sliding deep inside her. They both gasped and then moaned together, panting with the intensity of their pleasure. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck as they moved together.

Cregan’s grip tightened, his eyes never leaving hers as he moved with her, their bodies perfectly in sync. Baela’s breath hitched as the intensity of the moment threatened to overwhelm her, but she refused to look away, wanting to capture every detail of this moment between them.

They rocked slowly, building up the speed as they rode the waves of their passion. His hands gripped her bottom as he pulled her in tighter, driving into her relentlessly, his cock stretching her further as they continued their erotic dance. She groaned softly, the pleasure unbearable as her climax peaked. She buried her face in his shoulder as she trembled and convulsed, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes from the force of her release. She only wanted this, to make sure this wasn't fleeting.

He groaned as well, his entire body trembling as his climax crashed over him. After a few minutes, he leaned back, resting his weight against her as he struggled for breath. His face glistened with sweat, his chest rising rapidly as he tried to calm himself. Baela smiled fondly as she smoothed the damp strands of his dark brown hair off his forehead.

The tension that had built up between them over the past weeks finally found its release, their connection had deepened with every touch, every kiss, every shared breath. The playful banter, the unspoken longing, the undeniable chemistry. All of it came together in a perfect storm of emotions that left them both breathless.

Baela let out a soft, contented sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder, her silver curls brushing against his cheek. Cregan wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they sat there in the quiet aftermath, the tension between them finally giving way to a comfortable, shared silence.

After a long moment, Baela lifted her head, her lilac eyes meeting his with a playful smile. “I guess your old couch isn’t so bad after all.”

Cregan chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Told you it was sturdier than it looks.”

Baela laughed, the sound light and carefree as she nestled against him, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

The soft morning light filtered through the thin curtains of Cregan’s bedroom, casting a waking Baela up. She stirred, a lazy smile stretching across her face as the events of the previous night came flooding back. She felt the warmth of the blankets against her skin and the comfort of the old, worn-in bed beneath her. It was surprisingly cozy for such a rugged place, though she had a feeling that might have had more to do with the man than the bed itself.

The sound of footsteps drew her attention, and she turned her head just in time to see Cregan walk in, still naked, carrying a tray with breakfast. Baela couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the sight of him so casual and at ease making the moment feel both surreal and ridiculously charming.

“Well, good morning to you too,” she teased, her lilac eyes sparkling with amusement. “You always serve breakfast like this, Coach?”

Cregan grinned, setting the tray down on the bed before leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. “Only for special guests.”

Baela rolled her eyes playfully, sitting up and taking in the spread before her. Eggs, toast, and a few slices of bacon. Simple, but it smelled delicious. She grabbed a piece of toast, nibbling on it as she looked up at him, curiosity getting the better of her.

“So,” she started her voice light and teasing. “How does a guy like you end up being a tennis coach? I mean, you don’t exactly fit the stereotype.”

Cregan chuckled, sliding back into the bed beside her and leaning against the headboard. “Honestly? I don’t know. It just happened. I played a lot of sports growing up, and was pretty good at it. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I was coaching.”

Baela raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with his vague answer. “That’s it? No secret passion for tennis? No dramatic backstory?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Nope. Just a guy who’s good at sports and wanted a job.”

Baela was about to press him further when something suddenly dawned on her. Her eyes widened, and she dropped the toast onto the tray, sitting up straight. “Oh my gods, I left my phone at the bar! Netty and Aly have probably been calling this entire time.”

Cregan smirked, clearly not as concerned as she was. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean, ‘don’t worry about it’? I need my phone! What if someone took it?”

He leaned in, his grin widening as he brushed a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “Baela, it’s fine. I own the bar.”

She blinked, her mind trying to process what he’d just said. “What?”

Cregan nodded, clearly enjoying her confusion. “And most of the northern part of town, too. It’s a family thing.”

Baela stared at him, utterly shocked. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, still grinning as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers. “Afraid not, Princess.”

Baela’s mind reeled as she tried to wrap her head around this new revelation. Cregan wasn’t just a coach. He was practically the king of this small town. And here she was, sitting naked in his bed, having spent the night in his arms.

Before she could ask any more questions, the older man kissed her, his lips warm and insistent against hers. The shock of his revelation melted away, replaced by the familiar heat of their connection. Baela kissed him back, her hands finding their way to his chest as she pulled him closer.

As their lips parted, Baela couldn’t help but smile, the surprise still lingering in her eyes. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Cregan chuckled, his forehead resting against hers as he looked into her lilac eyes. “Stick around, Baela. You might find there’s a lot more to discover.”

Baela smiled softly, shaking her head in disbelief as she pulled him in for another kiss, the rest of the world fading away as she lost herself in the moment.

[hoe4sports]

“The world stops turning”

Caroline Graham Hansen x reader

AN: No trigger warning. This has been re written as of 31st of May.

You were fresh out of University, and for sure done with anything related to lectures, studying and assignments. You grew up in this silly little Norwegian town, Tromsø. You know, a place where you can see the northern lights, reindeers and polar bears! Well, the latter is not entirely true. It is just a dead polar bear stuffed for tourists to see and take pictures of. Regardless, you grew up here with your grandparents. Your father left when you were a baby, and your mother? You went no contact a few years ago as she put you through a lifetime of trauma. That is exactly why you decided that when you was finished with your bachelors degree in sports leadership, you needed to get out of this sad little town. It is always cold, and the town has winter for 9 months a year. Three of them are in complete darkness, no sun or no daylight. It’s just as bad as it sounds. That’s why you decided to apply for jobs pretty much anywhere but here. Places like Oslo, London, Greece, Australia (hello Sam Kerr) and even the us. You however ended up getting a job offer from the women’s department in the club known as Barcelona. It was just what you needed; Sun, beaches and Spanish women.

You decided to go to Barcelona a week early, you figured you had to take advantage of checking out the city and the nightlife! Barcelona had arranged this beautiful apartment for you downtown. It was a decent sized apartment in a new building with spectacular views from your bedroom window in the 23rd floor. You had never seen anything like this as you grew up very poor, and only lived in an apartment with your grandparents. You spent the first week checking out bars, restaurants and beaches. You also found a huge mall with all of your favourite stores! Naturally, you had to purchase new clothes as I was told that there would be an athletic dress code. Lululemon for the win!

You didn’t really meet a lot of hot Spanish women during your first week, but yoy made a few friends in the building. One of your closest neighbours, Ingrid Engen lived two doors away from you. She recognised me from a talent camp for 13 year olds in Norway. You had spent the first week getting to know each other, and when she found out you were going to be working for Barcelona; she was beyond excited. You two clicked naturally, and you went out to all her favourite bars, restaurants and shops. She really gave you the full experience! 

Fast forward to today, Monday morning. The first of August. At 5.30. Let’s just say that you regretted the last bottle of wine from last night. But today was the day! The day were you finally start your first “big girl job” and you bet you were feeling excited. You got your tired body out of bed and opened up the blinds in your apartment. The views were simply breathtaking. It was stunning! A beautiful sunrise with the most beautiful colors that you could possibly imagine. You made myself an iced coffee, and wrapped your fuzzy around yourself so you could sit outside on your private balcony. It felt relaxing. The air was crisp, the sound of the ocean was lingering in your ears and you could smell the salty beach. It was like a dream come true.

Your daydreaming soon became interrupted as you knocked myself intro reality. First day of your first job, right. You quickly made it to the bathroom and had a steaming shower. The smells of the floral soap felt like a full on aroma therapy session. You quickly got out of the shower and patted your body dry. Your blonde long hair dried and put in a half up half down bun and you did light makeup as your skin was tanned from the week in the sun. You always used some mascara, it really made your icy blue eyes pop. You got dressed up in what you had been requested to wear; Black athletic shorts, a black athletic top, your trusty black hokas and a hot pink lululemon jacket. It felt wrong, but your new boss had insured you that any athletic wear was good.  You grabbed my bag and you took a deep breath. One look in the mirror, some lip balm and you were out the door. This was going to be the first day of the rest of your life. 

*fast forward to being with your boss*

“Ah, and this office is where you will be working from! Feel free to decorate however you like.” The Spanish woman said. You nodded and listened as active as you could. “Here is your work phone, your laptop and your camera. If there is anything you need, you let me know.” she said as she handed over what looked like a tower of apple and canon products. You felt stunned. “Wow, this is amazing, thank you so much! I’m so excited to get to know the team, and I’m eager to get to work.” You replied as you sat down your new gear and followed the tall woman as she talked enthusiastically about Barcelona and their work culture. 

*Caroline POV*

Jonathan was going on, and on and on and on about what this season was gonna look like. I was tying up my white Nike cleats, they were brand new as the team wanted us to start fresh. I however, hated fresh and new and change. I liked stability, routine and same old. Why change something that isn’t broken?

The door to the hallway suddenly swung open. There was the head of staff, Maria. She was always so bright and shiny and talkative. Not really my way of life. “Ah, Maria, just in time!” Jonathan called out. “Come, come!” He urged and a blonde petite woman popped up from behind Maria. “This, ladies, this is Y/F/N. She is one of the new assistant coaches, and she will be primarily working with the wingers. With her, we will be unstoppable!” Jonathan said enthusiastically. The girl blushed, and smiled. “Hi squad, Im looking forward to kicking your asses on a daily basis”  she said with a cheeky grin. I was staring at her as I couldn’t remember why she seemed so familiar. “Caro, stop staring!” Mapi hissed at me. I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t staring” I hushed, but with no luck as the team was already making their way onto the pitch.

[alienssstufff]

idk if u talked abt it b4 but i would LOVE to know why u see autumn as 3L (and i assume LL as winter - DL as spring - LimL as summer) tho i 100% see already purely from aesthetic why thatd be the case itd be so so cool to see a more in depth opinion?? it does fit so well in with the 2 arcs being 3L into LL & DL into LimL as autumn into winter then starting as a new arc of spring into summer?? literally perfect i feel??

[ context ] nooo I never have! I'd love to!

The Life Series thematically happens cycles upon cycles within itself. Each season is like a different part of a year like seasons ending on the very climatic Limited Life as its Summer.

[AUTUMN 3RD LIFE] While there aren't many interesting biomes in 3L that give it away, it's more about the progression of the Beginning as players are taken out of the comfort of their previous lives and all social constructs are thrown out the window and into the deep end. People make pretty bases, feel hesitant to steal, and build monopolies in a world that virtually does not have a currency - all because these are things the Hermits and Empires alike have been doing prior to the Life Series. It's Autumn because it's a learning experience, a transition period as the players grow more accustomed to these new customs in preparation for the extreme.

[WINTER LAST LIFE] HONESTLY the one I'm glad we all agree on, that server is SO #wintercore with so many horror elements. Deeeep alpine forests, winding rivers, tall snowy mountains it got all of them! The perfect winter sequel to 3rd Life and the one where the players (after being a part of 3L) are put the most on edge with the levels of betrayal and distrust the season had going on with the Bogeyman mechanic. People straight up start HUNTING each other for sport it's an example of the most dire of situations and I LOVE IT!

(putting the other 2 under the cut before it gets too long)

[SPRING DOUBLE LIFE] Much kinder than Last Life congratulations you have made it through the winter. Double Life is a season centred on relationships, about all the different types of love between players - if you live in the Northern Hemisphere spring happens during valentines. New bonds like in Spring are made here and old ones resurface and/or are broken in history of the previous seasons. Double Life is kind of like 3rd Life in the sense that people's relationships, and how they go about them are in influence to things that have happened in the past (previous seasons).

[SUMMER LIMITED LIFE] The final season of the First Cycle. The server has a WARM OCEAN biome. I really do wish mojang developed their beaches or the tropics better Limited Life would have been perfect with palm trees. I built a bit on the Limited Life world HERE and HERE It's about teamwork, fun and games - the tone Limited Life has in comparison to Last Life is its polar opposite in the way people trust in each other so much. Even the whole meaning of what it means to be Bogeyman here is flipped on its head it's treated as a gift. It comes perfectly after Double Life as the soulmates made in there (eg Boatboys, Ranchers, etc) continue from here. If anything it reminds me of the summer break before everyone gets back to work (Secret Life).

Side note: Secret Life Bit of a weird one honestly. It to me is the strangest out of the 5 like yeah it COULD be spring aesthetically because of the cherry trees, but it could also be autumn (thus the new cycle), the way it is handled so far is reminiscent of how things were in 3rd Life with everyone being so careful of their lives. Waiting for more sessions to come out to build more on this :]

HWWHWH anyway hope that makes sense ty for letting me talk about the Life Seasons >w<

[mybelovednick]

Crimson and Clover, Honey (Chapter 1)

Main Page

Nick Sturniolo x Male!character

Summary Nick Sturniolo is a Bookstore owner in a small town in Northern Italy. Vayu Arora is an elementary school teacher who is a frequent customer at Nick's Store. Both of them meet and they are suppose to fall in love like faith intended. But what happens when one of them is unable to let go of their past selves?

Nick x male!character Angst Fluff/comfort Hurt/comfort

TW: Too corny ig

******

1

The people we meet in our lives are just stories. Some are more haunting than others. It is one of life's gifts, I suppose. I am a story, so are you and so was the man with the bluest eyes I had ever seen.

The words we exchange, the touch we share, the emotions we experience, the way we live and love, the way we hate - it all comes together to form our stories. The man with the beautiful blue eyes and a magnificent smile had a story intertwined with mine, it was not all the bad parts, and there were parts that I am grateful for. These stories make us who we are, shape our thoughts and in turn, merge with the universe itself when we are gone.

I remember when I first saw him. He was sitting all alone in his beautiful bookstore. He seemed unreal at first. The honeycomb rays of sunlight split through the cracks of the clouds and flowed like a yellow stream of jellyfish into the room, through that slightly cracked window just past him. The dark room was dimly lit and you could barely make out that he was there sitting in silence.

    The room was filled with posters of vintage films, and 80’s rock bands, along with pictures of Saints, and wooden artefacts that looked like they were carved by the Gods, even. In the backdrop, he was immersed in his small, emerald-gold book, in his own little world.

    He was so still, it was uncanny. If it wasn’t for the sun, the dark room would have gobbled him up. It would seem like he was one of the wooden statues himself. Carved by the angels. But his blue eyes gave away the fact that he was not a part of that inanimate silence, rather something living and breathing within the same intimate space. His eyes were as blue as the ocean that Italy herself shared her beautiful beaches with.

“Do you mind?”  The boy’s voice echoed in the dimly-lit room. The tone was unwelcoming, his voice wasn’t ‘smooth as honey’ like the poets usually describe of beautiful men in their lovely poems; it was husky and sharp like a knife- similar to a thunder rolling down the dark clouds. “Hello? Back to earth pretty boy. Aren’t you going to buy something?”.

That made me fluster. I hastily grabbed the nearest book that my hand could reach. In the process, I knocked down a few books and winced as they fell on the ground with a loud ‘thud’ that made one of the window panes rattle. I was about pick them up.

“Leave it be.” The young man said. “I’ll pick ‘em up later.”

“Uh- okay.” I stupidly mumbled and practically sprinted towards the counter. “These books please.” I winced for a second time as I unintentionally placed the books too loudly on the table top for him to check.

I wanted to crawl into a cave and die.

But then I heard a soft chuckle. It was then when I first saw him smile. I caught myself smiling back at him. I loved his nose ring, I loved his freckled cheek, I loved how the sun seemed to give him a faint touch of blush, I loved how red his lips were, I lov-

“Should I give you a carry bag?” His voice once again forced me to snap back into reality.

I simply nodded and handed him a few Euros. “Uhm, I am Vayu… by the way.”

As I extended my right hand for a handshake, He picked up my bag and placed it on my hand, “Nice to meet you. Have a good day.” Why had I expected him to return the favour by providing his name as well?  I knew his smile was forced but I would never admit that to myself. Embarrassed with the entire chain of events, I nodded awkwardly and walked away from the store.

That was three months ago.

~~~

“Damn dude! So you went to the bookstore, saw an average white guy with fake blonde hair which could be his wig. Threw all the books on the ground and practically destroyed his counter top. And he ghosted you right to your face?” Nathan burst out laughing.

“That was a stretch but yes, thank you for summarising my own tragedy to me, Nate.” I rolled my eyes and sat back with my arms tucked close to my chest.

Nathan, Tara and I taught at the same school, St. Maria Elementary. It was a small school in practically nowhere of Northern Italy. I moved into this town, about six months ago. I was born and brought up in Delhi, India. But things changed when I decided to come out to my family. My parents were not okay with the fact that their only son was doomed to not having a child of his own to continue the legacy of the Arora family just because he could never love a woman. I never blamed them, though. I did understand their perspective and respected their wishes. But it was suffocating for me to stay there. I needed to leave and so I did. I had my masters in Zoology and Bachelors degree in Education from some of the most prestigious universities in the country. I could go to the US or the UK or any other place with my own expenditure. But I decided to apply to somewhere safe and peaceful. And the faiths brought me here, in this town.

And I was happy then. I had bought myself a small two storied bungalow down the ‘Via del Canto’ street. The house was dirty and filthy when I bought it but I did do my best to make it feel like home. I knew it was the one from the moment I saw the beautiful backyard which I always dreamed of having. The street was not a very well-known one. It was a chore to ride uphill with a bicycle but I loved my own space. You could even see the ocean from the veranda of my bedroom.

I have always been a practical man. Once I reached here, I immediately had an established job and a place to stay. My aunt, Irani, who lived in Milan, helped me a lot throughout this process. “But you are over-qualified to be a biology teacher in a small school like this, Vayu.” She would say, “You are a talented young man and with a few more years of training, you could be a reputed professor in some of the most prestigious Universities in the world! Why waste your talent?”. And she was right. Why waste my years in a middle of fucking nowhere? I didn’t know the exact answer for this but for once I wanted to listen to my heart. Ever since my childhood I did whatever my parents asked me to do, whatever was expected of me from society. All these twenty-eight years of people-pleasing culminated to me getting abandoned by people I thought were my own. So what was the point?

Nevertheless here I was, all alone in a foreign country. That was until I met Nathan, the English teacher and Tara, the art teacher in the same school I worked in as a Biology teacher; and I felt like I found a place in this world. They were some of the best people I ever met and I will always be grateful to be a part of their lives.  

            As usual, the three of us sat down at our table in the teachers’ cafeteria during recess time. We shared all our stories of our past selves. I talked about almost everything with them and they knew about me liking other men. It was a secret between our trio because Tara was a ‘raging’ (her words) bisexual and Nate was apparently bi-curious and still not sure of any labels. I mean kudos to each of us.

The conversation continued.

“Stop laughing like a fucking hyena Nate.” Tara snapped. Nathan stifled his laughter while wiping off tears from his eyes after all that laughter. “So Vayu.” Tara turned towards me, leaning in closely to engage in the conversation, “You said he smiled too right?”

I nodded like a child about to be given some hope in the form of candy.

“Hey! That does mean he liked your goofy-ass.” Tara boasted proudly.

“I mean I think so.” I whispered, mostly to myself in hopes of self-consolidation.

“That’s great. By the way, what did you buy?” Nathan asked mid bite while chomping on his sandwich.

“Uhh…” I couldn’t say it and my ears were starting to turn red.

“What’s the matter? Say it” Tara was curious too.

“Okay fine I accidentally bought porno magazine along with Shakespeare’s Hamlet. I don’t even like Hamle-..”

Nathan was almost choking on his sandwich. And Tara looked at me like a disappointed mom about to beat his son’s ass.

“You guys, hear me out-..” I was begging for my dearest dignity, “I was in a hurry okay? And the guy was truly very pretty. I got distracted and..”

“And what?” Nathan cut me off while he was gasping for air, “Bought a fucking Playboy and showed him the horny-ass motherfucker that you really are? I can’t. I need air, Tara! Get me some fucking air right now.”

“Nate you are sweating and you look redder than the tomato in your sandwich. Get a grip, man.” Tara said.

“Vayu look,” Tara was serious now, “Don’t be so anxious about such trivial matters. It was just an infatuation. Right? Right?”

“Right.” I lowered my gaze.

“It is not like you have to see him every day.”

“I suppose you are not wrong.” I replied and Tara smiled.\

“And get a bottle of water for Nate. Dying from choking on a sandwich is not a sexy way to go.” Tara ordered.

I really did love my friends. And maybe Tara was right. Maybe it was a onetime thing. Although, I would love to see that smile once again, someday maybe.

**********

Next Chapter

A/N : This is my first ever fanfic series for the Sturniolo fandom. I used to write a lot during my 1D days. I know there is not much nick content right now. Because I want to introduce Vayu to the readers first. More to come, hopefully. Please do comment your honest opinion. <3

Tag: @ohmtoff @loud-sturniolos @matty-bear2 @maria4mari @solarsturniolo @freshloveforthefit @darl1ngdr1sta @tkhzs @thenickgirl @soursturniolo @certifiednatelover

(pls let me know if you feel uncomfortable if tagged)

[luxviewwindows]

Choosing the Right Windows for Your Home: A Lux View Windows Buying Guide

Here at Lux View Windows, where we make choosing the perfect windows for your Northern Beaches home a breeze! If you're navigating the world of replacement windows or considering an upgrade, this guide is tailored just for you. We'll walk you through everything from the basics to the advanced, ensuring you make an informed decision for your home.(…)

Read more: https://luxviewwindows.wordpress.com/2023/12/08/choosing-the-right-windows-for-your-home-a-lux-view-windows-buying-guide/

[northern-passage]

this was one of the first snippets i posted back on patreon in 2021, with Lea and Merry. i've edited it a bit (a lot) before reposting it since it was a few years old, and it was fun to see how much more confident i am now with writing intimate scenes than i was back then.

i imagine this would take place sometime while the gang is in Highfell, maybe the first few nights or right before they're setting out to leave again. enjoy~

Lea glances back as Merry quietly steps out onto the balcony, a sudden wave of heat washing over them from inside before the door closes and the cold night air chases it back out. They shiver a bit, eyeing the bottle in Merry's hand as she walks over to where they sit balanced on the railing, their back towards the inn, their feet dangling over the long drop down to the beach below. They take a deep inhale from their pipe, tasting it for a long moment before exhaling slowly.

Merry leans against the railing beside them, her arms crossed over the cold, damp wood, clutching the bottle still in her hand, tapping it lightly with her nails.

"You going to stay out here all night?" Merry asks, peering up at Lea, who just shrugs. "You're wasting that expensive bed in there," Merry scoffs, turning out towards the water and taking a quick drink before setting the bottle aside precariously atop the railing.

"I can't sleep," Lea says simply, staring out at the dark water, fidgeting with their pipe in their hand.

"There are plenty of other things you can do in a bed like that than just sleep," Merry smirks.

Lea huffs, rolling their eyes as they raise their pipe to their lips again.

The waves roll gently out across the beach, the black water shimmering as the full moon reflects its light across the choppy surface, with a soft green glow on the distant horizon from the northern lights. Merry and Lea sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and Lea finds themself glancing sideways, staring at the woman beside them, the soft light of the inn filtering through the balcony windows and igniting her auburn hair in a dreamy glow, clashing with the dark shadows and white, pale light coming off the water.

"What?" Merry says, giving Lea a coy look out of the corner of her eye.

Lea scowls, shaking their head and turning away, lifting their pipe only for Merry to pluck it from their hand, tilting her head and leaning in close as she takes a deep breath, holding the pipe between her lips. Lea doesn't move away, even as Merry exhales, the smoke curling in the small space between them.

"Smoking is bad for you, you know," she says.

"So is drinking," Lea shoots back, and Merry just smiles, holding the pipe in her mouth, her lips curling around the mouthpiece as her teeth flash white in the dark.

Merry slides closer along the railing, her eye roaming over Lea's face, flicking to their lips, and she can’t suppress the thrill she feels when Lea doesn't move away, a sudden nervous energy pulsing in the air. Slowly, Lea reaches out, gently taking the pipe from Merry's mouth, and she lets them, holding their dark eyes in her gaze as they do it, her lips parting just enough for the mouthpiece to slide free. Lea is the one that looks away first, a slight blush creeping over their face, glancing down and fumbling with the pipe in their lap.

Merry is feeling bold, either from the alcohol or the tobacco or both, and she closes the remaining space between them, her hand gently brushing over Lea's thigh - but they go rigid at the contact, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her hand away.

Merry quickly steps back, recoiling, and Lea releases her, their eyes widening.

"What are you doing?" Lea asks, their words coming out too fast, clumsily swinging their legs back over the railing and dropping down onto the balcony. They clutch their pipe to their chest, blinking slowly at the captain, their eyes still wide and wary.

"Sorry, I clearly misread the… situation," Merry says, raising her hands, giving Lea an apologetic look. "I thought you were interested."

Lea hesitates, glancing out at the water, before forcing themself to look back at Merry.

"I - I am," they say quickly, grimacing before dropping their hands and setting their pipe down beside Merry's bottle on the railing. They struggle for a moment, scowling at the pipe and wringing their hands, anxiously twisting a thumb ring that Merry has never noticed before.

"I'm sorry. I just… are you sure?" they finally say, and they can't look at her, their face burning, wishing the floor would just swallow them up. Lea just finds it hard to believe that a woman like the captain would be interested in them - after everything. Of course, there's been flirting and teasing between them, but Merry seems to be like that with just about everyone. And even Lea wasn't sure sometimes if they really meant it - but right now, just the two of them, it feels more real. More tangible.

"I'm sure, Lea."

Merry tilts her head at them, studying their face for a moment. Lea is handsome, and their features look even more severe than usual in the unforgiving moonlight, their eyes flashing as they return her stare. Lea takes a step forward then, but stops short, opening their hands, palms-up - waiting for her.

Merry approaches them as if they were a skittish animal - she doesn't want to spook them again. But Lea gives her a little nod, and soon enough they're so close that she can smell nothing but that tobacco on their breath.

Merry takes their hands, guides them to her waist.

"I'm sure," she says again. "I like you, Lea Chen," she whispers, and Lea bows their head, their jaw set. Merry raises a hand and gently presses her palm to Lea's cheek, and they let out a long sigh, melting into the touch, closing their eyes for a moment before turning their head - just enough to brush their lips against Merry's inner wrist, feel her warmth and taste her pulse.

The gesture seems to ignite them both simultaneously, Merry's other hand tangling in their thick hair, cradling the back of their neck and urging them forward while Lea roughly grabs at her hips pulls her close. Their bodies lock together as their lips meet, teeth clicking against each other and lips splitting painfully in their haste.

It's a messy first kiss, both of them hungry for it, enthusiastic, clumsy, and a little bloody - metallic with the sweet spice of tobacco and alcohol making Lea's head spin as they taste Merry's tongue in their mouth. Merry rolls her hips against their thigh, pulling at their hair and sucking on their bottom lip, ignoring the ache in her teeth as they kiss and kiss and kiss.

Eventually they have to break apart, both of them breathing hard, Merry still gripping a handful of Lea's hair, their bun hanging loose with long strands falling across their face and tickling Merry's lips as they pant together over the sound of the waves.

"The bed," Lea says, breathless, and Merry nods, pulling them back towards the door, and they reach around her for the doorknob, throwing it open hard enough that it slams into the wall and makes both of them wince. But Merry just laughs.

"Sorry," Lea says sheepishly, ducking their head as they gently push it close. It's scorching in the room, from the woodstove, or just from the two of them together, hot and heavy hands roaming and groping as the two kiss again, slowly backpedaling towards the bed.

Merry shrugs out of her jacket, letting it drop to the floor before reaching for Lea's belt buckle. She pulls at their shirt, untucking it from their trousers, and Lea watches as Merry pulls their belt free in one quick motion, tossing it over her shoulder with a smirk. Her hands are surprisingly cold now, slipping beneath their shirt, Lea grunting from the touch as she trails her fingers across their stomach.

"Okay?" Merry prompts, looking up to search Lea's face, and they nod quickly, leaning forward to pepper kisses along Merry's jaw, down her neck, all while her hands explore beneath their shirt, tracing the plane of muscle over their ribs before slowly drawing her nails down their back.

Merry tilts her head back, Lea's lips brushing against her pulse, sucking gently, teeth grazing over her flushed skin, their hands reaching around to slide down the curve of her ass, squeezing roughly until she gasps. Merry pushes their shirt up then, fumbling a bit as she tries to unbutton Lea's trousers, and they laugh, the sound reverberating through Merry's chest before they relent, pulling back so Merry can actually see what she's doing. The buttons are no match for her now, and she gives Lea a coy look through her lashes.

"Take off your shirt," Merry says, her fingers curling around the front of Lea's trousers, partly pulling them open, admiring the glimpse of their lower stomach as they raise their arms to tug at their shirt. They jerk it off over their head, tossing it aside with their belt, and Merry drinks in the sight of them, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks over their exposed torso, their chest and their scars, and all the beauty marks adorning their skin. She releases their trousers to run her hands over their chest, their shoulders, squeezing the swell of muscle in their arms before pulling them back in for more kisses, open-mouthed and still hungry. Lea makes a sound in the back of their throat that sends a spike of want lancing hot up Merry's spine, and she grinds herself against them, her hands tightening around their arms hard enough to bruise. She breaks their kiss then to desperately press her lips to the hollow of their throat, breathing them in and dragging her tongue across their collarbone before blowing cool air over their pulse and making them shiver.

Lea pushes Merry farther into the room, tangled together and nearly tripping over each other until the back of Merry's knees hit the bed.

She drops down, pulling Lea down with her, though they catch themself, a hand on either side of her, palms pressed to the bedspread. They lower themself slowly, sliding their thigh between her legs and flexing it a few times and dragging it up along the length of her until she’s squirming, her fingernails leaving little half-crescents indented in their shoulders.

Lea pushes her shirt up, exposing her stomach, caressing her with a gentle hand before sliding low to kiss her just above her navel. They follow the scattered trail of freckles, their tongue snaking out and leaving its own glistening trail as they slowly make their way down to the waistband of her trousers. Their hands follow close behind, teasing her breasts before sliding down her stomach to her thighs, pushing them apart and opening her legs wide as they take their place on their knees. They pause for a moment, kicking their own shoes off before pulling at Merry's, followed by her trousers, with Merry laughing and wiggling on the bed all the while.

The laughing stops, though, when Lea presses their mouth against her, her breath catching in her throat as they kiss slowly at her inner thighs, sucking on the soft skin and carefully testing her with their teeth. Merry reaches down, fingers twisting through Lea's hair, her body arching back against the bed as Lea drags their tongue over her cock, hot and wet and attentive.

But they stop, pulling back to kiss her some more, on her stomach, her hips, biting at her thighs, all while her hand tightens around their hair until she can't take it anymore. Her thighs clench around Lea's head, breathless and giddy, her long hair starting to stick to the sudden sweat along the back of her neck.

"Lea," she whines, and then she inhales sharply as they finally wrap a hand around her base and press a wet kiss to the tip of her cock, staring up at her as they do, their other hand gripping one of her thighs. They open their mouth, taking a little at a time, bobbing their head as Merry gasps and pulls at their hair. Lea eventually grabs her hips, pressing her back into the bed when she starts to buck reflexively, their movements slow and agonizing as they keep stopping and starting again, kissing her stomach and thighs, reaching up and teasing her nipples through her shirt.

When they wrap their lips around her again, they let her hit the back of their throat, Merry loudly moaning their name, both hands tangled desperately in their hair now as they move up and down a few times and then slowly draw back, their tongue flexing deliciously against her before they let her fall from their mouth with a gasp. Strands of spit and fluid drip from their open mouth, and Merry tugs impatiently at their hair, sitting up then to meet them with a kiss.

Lea holds her face in their hands, their thumb stroking her cheekbone, tentatively touching the fabric of her bandana, still wrapped around her head and hiding her eye from them.

Merry pulls back, Lea's hands still cradling her face, and she reaches up, touching their wrist before taking their hand in her own, guiding their fingers to slide beneath the cloth, giving them a nod when they hesitate, their brow furrowed with concern.

"Take it off," Merry says, though her voice is soft, not a command like earlier - but a request. She nods at Lea again, sliding her hand down their arm and giving it a squeeze. The first time with someone, Merry usually keeps the bandana on - she's protective of it. It's not like it's some big secret - anyone can see the scars beneath the bandana, the way she hides behind it. Maybe they can even tell that she's hiding more than just her damaged eye. But she wants Lea to see. She doesn't know why, but she wants them to see her tonight.

Lea carefully lifts the bandana off, untangling some of Merry's hair twisted through it, setting it atop the blankets. Merry casts her gaze sideways, avoiding Lea as they take in her fully exposed face, her drooping eyelid and her milky white eye. They don't say anything, instead just reaching up again and tracing the scars there, the ghost of a touch along her cheek.

Merry closes her eyes, bowing her head for a moment. When she opens them again, she can't quite meet Lea's stare, so she looks down at their chest, at their own scars, and she mirrors their touch, her thumb caressing the raised skin that runs horizontal just beneath the muscle. Lea takes her in their arms then, pulling her close, humming softly as she touches them there.

"Merry," they breathe, their lips against her neck, and for a moment she just lets them hold her, kissing her throat and cradling her face while she strokes their chest.

Eventually, she slowly pulls back, slipping out of their arms and pressing her hands to their chest, pushing them back onto the mattress, her long hair falling over her shoulders and tickling their face. Sitting between their legs, she touches them with her hands first, caressing their face, the curve of their neck, then feeling the strong muscle of their shoulders, down to the swell of their chest and those long scars. The muscle over their ribs, the soft skin of their stomach, their hips, squeezing their thighs. She stands from the bed and takes off their trousers, dropping back down and starting again, her hands first, slow and deliberate, and then she follows with her mouth, kissing their jaw, the hollow of their throat, trailing along their collarbone before sucking on their chest, massaging and kissing along their scars, drawing a low moan from them before taking one of their nipples in her mouth and teasing them with her teeth. She sucks gently while Lea strokes her hair, pushing it back out of her face, gathering it in one hand and pulling it over her shoulder while their breath quickens with pleasure.

Merry kisses their scars a few more times before sitting back up, licking her lips and running her hands down their stomach and over their thighs again. She slowly draws her hand between their legs, and Lea's hips twitch, longing for her touch, pressing themself against her while they watch her through half-lidded eyes. She pulls back, getting an indignant huff from Lea, licking her fingers before she reaches down to touch them again. She drags her thumb over their growth, moving her hand in a slow circle, Lea's head rolling back against the pillows as she does.

"Fuck," they grunt, gritting their teeth and grabbing at the blankets. Merry stares down at them, pressing a palm to their lower stomach as she strokes their opening, playing with their growth until she's satisfied by their panting and moaning. Lea tries to stay quiet - it embarrasses them, it makes them feel too vulnerable, even more than someone touching them like this - but she doesn't let them. Lea bites their lip, swallowing loudly, sweating and twisting in the sheets until they can't resist it anymore. Her hand works faster and harder, until they finally moan her name, and then she slips a few fingers inside.

Merry pays attention to the spots that make them moan even louder, their body trembling from her touch, her fingers curling slowly inside with delightfully obscene sounds as she thrusts her hand faster and faster, hot and wet. By the time Merry moves her hand away and eases herself inside of them, they're both begging for it, Lea's legs shaking as they lift their hips to accommodate her.

They finish quickly together like that. Skin on skin, grunting together as Lea hooks their legs around her and touches her stomach, lifting her shirt up to grab at her breasts, holding her tight until she has to pull out to come on their stomach. It takes her a moment to recover, Lea pushing her hair back out of her face again, and then she returns her attention to them, working her hand against their growth just like before until they finally come undone completely beneath her. She strokes them gently a few more times before she untangles herself from their legs, standing from the bed and fetching a towel from the washbasin in the corner. She cleans them up, and then collapses on top of them, both of them hot and sweaty and clinging to each other. Lea takes a deep breath, wrapping their arms around her and holding her tightly against their chest.

"Hmm," Merry presses her lips to their flushed skin, giving them a few lazy kisses before tucking her head beneath their chin. "I told you I liked you, Lea Chen."

Lea smiles softly, reaching up to pet her hair, kissing the top of her head and feeling a sudden rush of affection that nearly makes their breath catch in their throat. They gently comb their fingers through her hair, neither of them quite knowing what else to say - until Merry is eventually lulled to sleep by Lea's gentle hands.

They take the chance to study the scars on her face, the slow rise and fall of her breathing, the way her body curls around them with her hands grasping at the blankets, grasping for them, even in her sleep. They notice a few grey hairs this close, and then they start to count her freckles when sleep alludes them.

Eventually they relax, leaning back into the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. They keep brushing their fingers through Merry's hair as they wonder how long it will be until they regret this. Only a few more days left here - only a few more days with her. It will be a clean break, at least.

They glance down at her again, clenching their jaw before turning their head to stare out the windows to the balcony, watching the distant northern lights dance across the water. At least right now, in this moment, they have this. Merry's steady heartbeat pressed against their own, the calming sound of the ocean outside, the heat of the woodstove making their eyes grow heavy - they feel warm and content as they finally pass into sleep, even when Merry slips out of their arms, and out the door.

[outtheoiseaux]

The Blue Room

(An excerpt from a story)

Celine’s grandfather- along with the help of a young, spry and altogether cooky intern he hired fresh out of her masters degree at the Oxford school of Anthropology- manages to uncover a previously unknown storage room buried beneath the ashy ruins of Pompeii in the summer of Celine’s first year of middle school. Nicknamed the “blue room” for its cerulean wall paintings which feature profoundly vibrant frescoes of scantily clad female figures, The Blue Room is a true gem of history in that it is not only believed to have once served as a sacrarium- an ancient Roman room in which sacred artifacts would be stored for future use in rituals- it was also filled with stacks of hulking amphorae -massive vases used by slaves and artisans for artifact transportation- and sloping piles of discarded oyster shells which Celine’s Grandpa and his yellow-bellied intern believe to have been discarded by onsite workers who happened to have been using them in local renovations when the eruption occurred.

Much of this information Celine can readily skim from the crust of her mind solely because of the sheer amount of times she has heard the words repeated when her older cousin- an awkward and altogether bumbling seventeen year old boy from Cambridge who had been living with her and her grandfather for the last three or so years since his grandmother suddenly and tragically perished- would turn to her grandfather with his great, big, buggy black eyes prewet with wonder and stutter out yet another line of inquiry into the stoic old man’s exploits as an adventuring archeologist.

Grandpa Haber’s miraculous discovery of The Blue Room was of course the most miraculous in that it bolstered his reputation so thoroughly and impressively in his field that not even two years after the initial find, Celine found herself, her cousin and of course, her grandfather’s oddball of an intern-turned-assistant soaring across the globe from the quaint and sunny beaches of Punta Gorda in southwestern coastal Florida to the mild-climated, kitsch and colorful college town of Ann Arbor for his brand spanking new position as a professor with the University of Michigan.

“You know, it really does remind me of when my gran first got her position at Cambridge.” Joey whispers to her from behind the navy blue canvas veneer of Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion. “It really is bloody wonderful for the ego to come from a family like this; I mean, if we’re both descended from professors in their respective fields, it’s probably safe to assume we might have inherited some of their hereditary IQ.” From her window seat, Celine watches fat, slimy clouds spin lazily below, growing larger and larger with perspective as the plane makes its descent. If her great aunt’s intelligence is hereditary, she thinks to herself privately, then she really does hope that the woman’s fatal heart issues aren’t.

Their new home, Celine learns as her grandfather moseys up the winding paths of a spacy suburban sprawl in the rental car, is located in a sleepy, lightly forested town in the residential garden hills of northern Ann Arbor. The house itself is a beautiful thing; a historic unit with delicately patterned Tiffany windows, a charming, oaken porch which cuts into the first floor and wraps around the front, thick, wooden beams, charmingly kitsch vintage furniture, art deco wallpaper, wrought iron window decorations, a series of increasingly aged light covers hanging from the center of the Victorian ceiling moldings and a tasteful exterior which has been (to Celine’s admitted delight) painted entirely in a warm, dusky purple. Celine decides to call it The Purple House.

“How in the world do you think Mister Haber managed to afford a beaut like this?” Joey, entirely bug-eyed, marvels at the rows of inlaid bookshelves that wrap the walls of what appears to have once been an office room but must have been transformed by the previous residents into their private library of collector’s editions. “I mean, he’s not hard-pressed for funds by any means but for heavens’ake, you don’t make this kind of money in his sort of research, and the man isn’t a socialite!”

“A socialite?” Celine wrinkles her nose. “Why would he need to be a socialite?”

“This is a socialite’s house.” Her cousin dutifully informs her. “The only thing you could think to do with a parlor this dreadfully impressive is to host equally impressive gatherings.”

She would never let the poor thing know it, but Celine sometimes thinks that her cousin enjoys needless frivolities with a suspiciously intense sort of vigor. So suspiciously intense, in fact, that she’s starting to suspect he would benefit more from finishing school than a university education. Out of the corner of her eye, the gold inlaid label of Antigone flashes from a handsome, red, hard-cover canvas binding.

“You wanna go check out the rooms?” She bites out through an oh-so-innocent grin. Best to distract him before he can get his hands on some old tome from the previous tenants' personal collection.

“That depends,” Joey throws his head back in a hearty guffaw and his unit of a fringe flops around in earnest, “on whether or not you’ve got the guts to race me for first dibs?”

The Purple House, Celine eventually learns, is actually called the Hallisbury House- or at least was upon its construction by a couple of Nouveau-Richie gilded age socialites years ago. All of this she gleans from a series of tastefully arranged picture frames hanging along the walls in such an order that, if one were to trail slowly down the halls and view each image in order, she would witness the building of the home, the renovations over the years and the process of the lives of the original owners. Morbidly, the last hanging image in the series- an exorbitantly decorated framed print hanging over the fireplace as a centerpiece to the already elaborate mantle- depicts an artistically framed black and white shot (clearly taken on a modern, digital camera) of the original owners’ gravestones. Whoever lived here last had, she thinks, a very strong sense of humor.

Beneath the photograph, on a gilded, silver plaque, an engraving reads:

A beautiful photograph from a beautiful Daughter.

Celine’s new room is on the second floor, directly above the kitchen, and is the only bedroom in the house with a window that faces out to the front yard and driveway. These three facts are perhaps the only ordinary thing about the place. Much like the house’s exterior, Celine’s new room is almost entirely made up of various tasteful shades of purple. There’s a lilac shag carpet and a stained-indigo oak closet and a painted-plum oak dresser and a violet bean bag and a mauve mattress and byzantium tasseled pillows and an eggplant duvet. Everything from the floor to the baseboards to the walls to the Victorian ceiling moldings is painted in the color, so much so that Celine begins to wonder if the visual fatigue will make her see yellow the second she steps out. Everything from the floor to the baseboards to the walls to the Victorian ceiling moldings is painted the color purple- everything, that is, except for the bright, blood red velvet curtains draped in theatrical arcs and ruffles over the ostentatiously gothy bedside window. The other rooms in the house are perfectly normal looking, if a little antique. She checked every last one of them, and this is the outlier.

“A beautiful room,” Celine giggles out to the empty room, “for a beautiful daughter.” She takes great care to adopt a disgustingly thick Oxford drawl when she says it, then she giggles even more because it makes her sound a little too much like her cousin who used to live there.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello!

Just requesting your favorite fun summer/pool themed fics (hopefully far enough ahead of time for northern hemishpere people). Rating doesn't matter (although I always enjoy a spicy fic).

Thank you for all that you do! This is always my go-to place for Good Omens fics. Keep up the good work. We love and appreciate you. 🥰

Hi! Here are some fun summer/pool fics for you...

Sunglasses and an Umbrella by AppleSeeds (T)

Aziraphale can't keep his eyes off the gorgeous man who visits the hotel swimming pool at the same time every afternoon, but will he ever summon the courage to actually talk to him?

On the Beach by ladyspock7 (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley are on a lovely outing in the countryside all by themselves, when Crowley decides to go for an unexpected dip.

Raspberry Ripple by FeralTuxedo (T)

Every afternoon, a man in a velvet waistcoat sits on the bench by the stone fountain and eats ice cream. Every afternoon, Crowley watches him from his office window. One day, he’ll pluck up the courage to talk to him.

bliss, poolside by Anonymous (E)

“Some snakes are ambi… amphe…. Both land and water,” Aziraphale added sagely. “Don’t worry, they won’t come into the pool, if that’s what you’re worried about.” “That is not what I’m worried about, thank you very much.” “So why don’t you come in then?” Crowley wiggled his eyebrows suggestively even though his tone was entirely serious. ---- Aziraphale, a writer who takes himself very seriously, goes to spend the summer at his sister's mansion as he tries to focus on completing a draft of his next book. Much to his surprise, he finds great distraction in the form of a handsome groundskeeper with remarkable skills in the water.

You're My Best Friend by ICanSingNoRequiem (T)

Set in the superstitious Soho district, comes a story about one young angel experiencing an unforgettable summer filled with sweets, tea, and endless car rides. Aziraphale shares these adventures with his newfound best friend, but all the fun is threatened by a deeply-held secret: they are supernatural beings from heaven and hell, hiding in plain sight.

Along the Changing Tide by NaroMoreau (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley meet at Anathema's beach house as guests for the summer. Neither of them think they're ready for a relationship but when they find themselves sharing a room, things will get complicated. A getting together, summer romance.

- Mod D

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 The Zionist occupation army commits yet another massacre of a Palestinian family after bombing a residential home on Al-Jalaa Street in Gaza City on Monday, even as the IOF continued its siege of Al-Shifa Hospital in the Al-Rimal neighborhood.]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🚀🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

ISRAELI VIOLENCE AGAINST PALESTINIANS IN THE GAZA STRIP RAMPS UP ON 164TH DAY OF ONGOING GENOCIDE

On the 164th day of Israel's ongoing war of genocide in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 8 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of at least 81 civilians, mostly women and children, and wounding another 116 others over the previous 24-hours.

According to Gaza's Ministry of Health, a number of bodies of the dead and wounded remain trapped under the debris and rubble, or remain scattered in the streets, as the Israeli occupation army continues to prevent ambulance and civil defense crews from reaching victims.

Meanwhile, IOF tanks, armored bulldozers and armored personnel carriers continue to besiege Al-Shifa Medical Complex, located in the Al-Rimal neighborhood, west of Gaza City, which remains the largest hospital operating in the Gaza Strip.

Local medical sources told the Palestinian news agency, Al-Quds News, that they were unable to save a number of wounded civilians due to the continued bombardment of the complex, while IOF soldiers fire on anyone who approaches the windows of the buildings.

Heavy shelling in the vicinity of the Hospital resulted in a fire near the surgical unit, by the hospital gates, suffocating civilians in the area and trapping them inside the hospital. The Zionist occupation army also cut off communications services to the hospital during the siege, and is currently ordering civilians to evacuate the hospital for the Al-Mawasi area.

At one point, occupation soldiers stormed Al-Shifa Hospital, arresting dozens of Palestinians, while local Resistance forces confront the invading Israeli army in the streets and neighborhoods surrounding the complex. At least one Al-Jazeera journalist, by the name of Ismail Al-Ghoul, was inside the hospital at the time of the Israeli raid, with reports that IOF soldiers beat and assaulted the reporter.

According to the Hebrew media, at least one Zionist soldier was killed during the siege amid intense exchanges of gunfire with Resistance forces operating in the Al-Rimal neighborhood.

Zionist authorities, who claim Hamas operatives were "using the hospital to plan and carry out terror activity," told the Hebrew media that the operation to encircle Al-Shifa Hospital was a joint one between troops with the 401st Armored Brigade, along with special forces units, in conjunction with Shin Bet security agents.

Gaza's Ministry of Health was scathing in its assessment, telling local reporters that “the Israeli occupation is still using its fabricated narratives to deceive the world and to justify the storming of the Shifa Medical Complex, and the Israeli military attack aims to continue destroying the health system in northern Gaza."

The Ministry also called on the International community to reject Israeli practices and asked that United Nations institutions intervene on behalf of the people of Palestine by going to the hospital to protect the civilians inside from the occupation army.

As the siege of Al-Shifa Hospital brought intense battles to the Al-Rimal neighborhood, Zionist air forces bombarded a residential building near the Legislative Council, while simultaneously, occupation gunboats and warships fired artillery shells near the Al-Mashal Foundation, southwest of the Beach Camp, west of Gaza City.

Similarly, the Israeli occupation forces bombed a civilian residence belonging to the Felfel family in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood, southwest of Gaza City.

In yet another atrocity, Zionist warplanes bombed the Abu Ahjir Family home, located in the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, killing at least 9 civilians.

Meanwhile, the corpses of those killed by the occupation's army continue to be recovered after the withdrawal of Zionist forces from the Khan Yunis governate, with at least five martyrs found and transported to Rafah city, in the south of the Gaza Strip.

Israeli occupation air forces also launched several air raids on agricultural lands close to the border with Egypt, in the city of Rafah, with a number of casualties reported as a result.

The Zionist massacres seemingly never end, with another new atrocity committed by Israeli occupation forces. This time, IOF soldiers fired live bullets towards civilians near Al-Rashid Street in Al-Zahraa City, in the central Gaza Strip, which resulted in the deaths of four Palestinians.

At the same time, the Israeli slaughter of civilians turned towards Palestinian children once again, with two local children killed in an Israeli airstrike that targeted a civilian residence in Khan Yunis, in the south of the Gaza Strip. The two children were recovered by local rescue crews and taken to Al-Najjar Hospital in Rafah.

As a result of Israel's ongoing war of genocide against the Palestinian population of the Gaza Strip, the endlessly rising death toll has now exceeded 31'726 Palestinians martyred, more than 25'000 of which being women and children according to the United States Pentagon, with another 73'792 civilians wounded since the beginning of the current round of Israeli aggression in Gaza beginning on October 7th, 2023.

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@WorkerSolidarityNews