#sarah-tea-studies

[finelinevogue]

love her stupid

summary - you are jealous of harry’s new bandmate, when you really don’t need to be

word count - ~1k

pairing - nonfamous!harry x reader

You didn’t think you really ever got jealous.

Not like this.

Sitting in your boyfriend’s room, alone whilst your boyfriend and his bandmates practiced downstairs, you never thought you’d be jealous of their new lead vocalist.

Your boyfriends band - Last Day on Earth - were in need of a female voice to better their music, and after many interviews for someone they came across Shana. She was a brilliant singer with just the right love for this kind of music - indie rock.

She was also out, most definitely, for your boyfriend.

You had come straight from the library to Harry’s house, hoping to spend the evening with your boyfriend.

When you arrived you heard them before you saw them. Harry and the band often practiced in his mum’s basement, as long as they were finished up by 10PM.

“Hello, love!” Anne had coddled you on the way in, taking your jacket from you and hanging it up in her under-stairs cupboard like you were part of the family.

“How are you, Anne?” You asked.

“Doing alright, love, yeah. You?” She pointed towards the kettle. “Cuppa?”

“Oh, no thanks. Just gonna see H if that’s okay?”

“Of course. He’s downstairs with Mitch, Tyler, Pauli and Shana.”

“S-Shana?” You questioned, pulling the sleeves of Harry’s sweatshirt over your hands and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yes. She’s the bands new lead singer. Bit pitchy if you ask me, but it’s not my band.” Anne shrugged her shoulder and continued making herself a tea.

“Is Sarah here?”

“Yes, she is actually. Mitch is giving her a ride home I think.” Anne said, because apparently she was more clued up on your friends than you were.

“Okay.” You nodded, smiling. “Think I’m just gonna go to Harry’s room for a bit. If that’s okay?”

“Do what you want, Y/N. This house is as much yours as it is ours.”

You thanked Anne and walked up to Harry’s room.

Harry’s room was very stereotypical for a guy going through college. He had his bed with blur bedsheets and duvet. His posters on his walls from famous movies and concerts he liked. His bookshelf filled with Tolkein and Pratchett. His drum set in the corner of the room and his desk in another.

You threw your tote bag to the floor by the door and jumped onto his bed, before laying down.

His whole room smelt of him, obviously, and you absolutely loved it. He smelt so warm and musky. He smelt homely and comforting.

And after a long day studying, that was just what you needed.

You took out your phone and pulled up your text messages.

To Harry: in your room xx

To Harry: just going to lay here for a bit, then i’ll come say hi to you and the band xx

It took you a while to build up the energy to speak to people, especially after a long day studying. Your social battery took a long time to charge up and then drained almost instantly after one use, much like your old(ish) iphone.

You pulled out Harry’s Nintendo Switch and loaded up a new Mario Kart game.

Even though it was Harry’s Switch, you used it much more than he did. Harry much rather prefers his PC for gaming. A lot of the time he’ll game whilst you read, both of your sitting in comfortable silence as you enjoy being in each others presence.

Your phone pinged when you finished scrolling through Instagram.

From Harry: I’ll be up in 5 x

You didn’t expect Harry to stop practicing with his band, especially not for you, but it made your heart swell knowing he cared about you so much as to stop band practice for a little bit so he could see you.

A day apart from each other was too long. You had even packed your toothbrush today with the hope Harry would be okay with you staying over.

You pulled out Harry’s plaid pyjama bottoms from underneath his pillow, stepped out of your uncomfortable jeans and put on his pyjamas. It was a sigh of relief and comfort when you put them on.

You won your game on the Switch with a whispered cheer just as Harry walked into his room.

“Hey, you.” He smiled.

“Harry!” You cheered, dropping the Switch to greet him.

You sat up on his bed, coming to kneel at the edge of his bed with your arms out. He walked over to you and into your awaiting arms, linking his own around your neck and giving the top of your head a couple of kisses.

You hummed in comfort as you took in his homely smell.

You squeezed him a little tighter before letting him go. You moved back just a bit rested your chin on his chest, looking up at him from an unflattering angle.

“You okay?” He smiled down at you, double chins only making him look prettier.

“Mhm.” You tiredly smiled.

“How was the library?”

“Boring. Missed my study buddy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry baby.”

“Kiss? To make it up to me?”

Harry laughed, “Of course.”

He leant down slowly and you tilted your head to the side to let him have room. You captured his lips with yours, softly. It was a slow and soft kiss. Intimate and loving.

You pulled away, only for Harry to chase your lips back to his kissing you again. You smiled into the kiss, before giving him what he was clearly craving; You.

You reached up a hand from around him to bring up to his cheeks and squish them, so his lips could break away from yours.

“Oi, piss off.” Harry sounded silly at he spoke with your fingers squishing his cheeks.

You giggled, letting him go completely, before sitting back on your heels and smiling up at him.

Harry ended up resting his palms on the bed either side of you, bending down to your head height to speak to you.

“Come watch us play?” He asked politely, kissing your cheek.

“But Shana’s there.” You looked down, suddenly finding your fingers far more interesting. You messed with the ring on your finger that was actually Harry’s. The one he’d given to you one random night together, to show you how much he loved you.

“She is.”

“Yeah.” You said, not knowing how to articulate what you meant.

“She’s nice.” Harry added.

“I bet she is.” You huffed, when you had no reason to.

“She’s a good vocalist too, which is the only reason she’s here.”

“How good?” You looked up at him.

“Good enough that her girlfriend recommended her to us.” Harry smirked, knowing he got you there.

“Oh. Cool.”

Harry quickly kissed your forehead before standing up to normal height. “C’mon Little Miss Jealous.”

He held out a hand for you. You took it and he helped to pull you off the bed. He pulled you close to him so you chest hit his with a soft collision.

“Hey.” He spoke to get your attention. You tilted your head up to look at him through starry eyes.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

You smiled, “Love you too.”

“Who loves me?” He asked for you to be clearer.

“I do.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to be anyone else.”

Harry always knew what to say, even when you were being unnecessarily mardy. There was no reason for you to be jealous for Shana, but sometimes you got in your own head too much.

Harry was always there to coax you out of your head though, working through your jealousy until you knew there was no reason.

He always validated you, but he also always reassured you.

“Okay. We can go now.” You nodded more confidently.

“Ready to watch me with heart eyes, baby?” Harry smirked.

“Always do, baby. Can you play ‘Love Her Stupid’?” You gave him puppy eyes.

“Think that’s a great idea, love.”

••••

(bonus)

You made it downstairs with Harry.

You found yourself walking in behind Harry, who went straight to the cookie cupboard.

His mum hit his hand before he could grab the whole packet.

“You can have one, mister. Dinner will be ready soon.” Anne said.

You laughed as Harry groaned and tilted his head back in frustration. His craving for biscuits was a serious one. One that you joked about with him all the time.

“Y/N, tell him he needs to cut down on the biscuits.” Anne tapped Harry’s stomach.

Harry was toned, don’t get anyone wrong, but he also had a little bit of chub there when he wanted. You loved how he didn’t take his body too seriously, but also didn’t neglect himself.

“I do tell him. He just doesn’t listen.”

“Listen to your girlfriend H, otherwise you’ll bloody lose her.” Anne lectured him.

“Lose her?” Harry scoffed. “Y/N’s obsessed with me.”

“In your dreams.” You rolled your eyes, but realistically what he said was the truth. You were obsessed and you were okay with that.

[pedropascalito]

The Last of Us Joel Miller Character Study S1E1: Coffee, Tea, or me?

Joel drinks coffee, as we know, and btw, this is the most number of fingers I’ve ever seen Pedro put on a cup. But…

…who drinks the tea? Sarah? Lady friends who spend the afternoon chatting with Joel when he’s between contractor gigs?

I love the idea of Joel being the neighbor everyone’s trying to get with and Sarah put the tea accoutrements there to help Joel be at least marginally hospitable during their efforts. And she counts the tea bags that get used while she’s in school.

I’d drink his tea.

[missmielyhoran]

Breakup sex

Breakup sex but not what you think...

[Warning- Car smut, fingering, choking, exhibitionism?, p in v, dirty talking (slut, whore), unprotected sex (wear condom kids!), teasing, slight bit jealousy, breeding kink, Olivia Wilde]

A/N- Since Harry is out there buying Ferrari which is like hot asf here is smut😙. I don't know if the relationship was pr or not (it was) but in this it was.

Masterlist

*****

Harry has never been more ecstatic about break up, he was probably jumping on his feet. He was free from this exhausting PR.

Since start Harry didn't want to get into this mess but Jeff is known to be persuasive. Jeff made Harry see how much he could benefit from this blinding him from the demirts. He agreed on it and boy oh boy was it a ride.

Like any other PR he wanted to keep it professional. Keep his personal life out of it but she was so fucking clingy, going to hang out with his sister and mother at shows. Although yeah it made the "relationship" look real but it pissed him off. He liked playing with her kids though cause well they were kids and Harry loves kids if it wasn't obvious enough.

That was in past now he was a free man. No parading around with her hands in his showing off a fake relationship.

He didn't know what to do to celebrate so, he went to buy a car, Ferrari to be exact. He has a wide vast collection of cars, since One Direction days he was fond of cars. So, when 1D grew and they started earning good money he brought himself his first car. Then the collection grew and grew along with him.

He was walking around looking at cars with the store owner and manager on their toes telling him about the various features of models when the red Ferrari 812 superfast caught his eye.

So, he bought it.

Now he was on his way to yours.

Harry met you when he was in "relationship" with Olivia. You were Sarah's friend coming at the first few shows of the tour and then the LA ones to support her. When he first saw you he couldn't help but garner a little crush on you but couldn't make a move since he had a made-up front to keep up.

For few months he forgot about you the but then you came to see them on UK shows and his crush was back again stronger this time cause you stayed as Sarah's kid's temporary nanny.

Both of you started to become really good friends and Harry's crush grew more. He got to know you more like how you liked a little extra honey in your tea, you hated spicy food and had a sweet tooth, how you were studying to be a pediatrician and loved to play with Jake (Sarah's baby).

He had texted you when he got out of the store telling you to wear something cute. He tried to ask you out many times after he told you that his relationship was not real. It was after you two slept together for first time. You were both very drunk but Harry tried to grasp on every touch and curve of yours thinking he might not get a chance again.

You woke up panicking thinking you have slept with a take man and have ruined a relationship and how your mom was probably cursing you from heaven so, he had no choice but to tell you the truth to make you stay.

You slept together multiple times after that but you never agreed to go on a date with him.

But today he was a man on mission.

*****

You were sitting on your couch facing the door shaking your leg anxiously. You have seen the articles about the breakup this morning. You squealed happily so loud it scared your cat off the bed and then you got his text an hour ago telling you to be ready and it became the best day of your life before it even ended.

He told you to wear something cute. You were wearing a pale yellow skirt you have just brought with a heart detailing in front and a denim corset strapless top with heart shape neckline with a black leather jacket over it reaching the end of your skirt, with some chunky knee high boots.

Was it a date? were you dressed too busy? if it was a date you probably weren't dressed for anything fancy and if he had any intention to take you to hiking you just have to suck it up and break your ankles.

A knock gets you out of your racing thoughts. Your hands smooth down your outfit, taking a deep breath you open door and see Harry standing there with his signature smile.

All breath gets knocked out of him when he sees you, shamelessly checking you out from head to toe. You were gorgeous he always knew that but, "Fucking hell babe" he groans pushing you back inside and closing the door behing him so, no one can see them.

His hand immediately finds spot on your waist and his lips on yours. Your fingers get tangled in the hair on the back of his head. You thought of how many times you had to share these lips woth someone else and now they were all yours, the thought made you smile against his lips.

"What?" He asked breaking the kiss but not going far. You shake your head and look down between you two.

"Come on tell me" he pushed further, you looked up at him your chin resting on his collarbone.

"It's just- Only I get to kiss you now" You said with a shy smile. He laughes at how cute you are, his hand drawing circles on your back. He kisses your forehead, nose all over your face making you laugh.

"My jealous baby" He cooed.

"Come on lets go" You said pulling away from him knowing if you stayed like this long you will never leave house.

You locked the door behind you as he took your hand in his threading his fingers into yours tightly. You squealed excitedly inside.

"Is that a new car?" You pointed out as you came closer to the car parked.

"Yup just brought it this morning" He said opening the passenger side of the door for you then jogging towards his side and sliding in.

"When you said you were going shopping I thought you meant groceries not a Ferrari!" you exclaimed but also let out a chuckle. He just shrugs and starts driving.

His one hand stays on the wheel while the other on your thigh rubbing back and forth.

"Did I tell you, you look absolutely gorgeous?" He asked looking at you sideways. Your face heats up at the compliment as you let out a small 'no' making him smirk.

"Mhm. You looking soo beautiful baby, irresistible." Harry turns to look at you fully when there is a red light.

"You just want to get into my pants" you shook you head laughing. He smirks joining you in laughter. He leans down pecking your lips three times.

"I don't know about pants my love but this skirt is making me feral" He whispers against your lips. His hand on your thigh sliding up towards your heat.

"Harry" You breathe out looking at him through lashes and seeing his emerald eyes darken. Your whole body shivers with goosebumps his faint touch making you lose all control over yourself.

"You want me to make you feel good baby?" He asks still looking at you through the same gaze. Your eyes flick towards the traffic lights now turned yellow.

"There are people around, you need to dri-"

"It's a simple yes no question Y/N" He says with his authoritative voice. You were sure your panties were drenched with arousal. You simply got wet when Harry was around you but like this god you could die.

"Y-Yes" You mumble out making him smile again with dimples.

"Good girl" He pecks your cheeks and goes back to normal. His hand slid back up where it was before leaving you flustered.

What the fuck.

*****

Harry was having fun seeing you squirm in your seat. Your eyes flicking all over him like a hungry animal then staying on his hands. He knew you loved his hands, the veins and rings turned you on.

He kept his face forward while yours was facing the window. His hands started sliding up already feeling the wamth of your pussy.

"Har" You sighed as his middle finger slide up and down your covered folds. You were unbelievably wet making him almost groan out but he kept his face straight.

"Yes darling" He smiled innocently like he didn't knew what he was doing. He tried not to keep his eyes on you longer as to not distract himself and get into trouble.

"Please" you whined and fuck him. He felt his dick twitch at your tiny whiny voice.

"What you want darling? tell me?" He asked trying to focus on both you and the road.

"Your fingers please" You whined again, your face scrunched up in pleasure and distaste. You were soo turned on it started to hurt, you clit swollen and throbbing.

"Poor baby" He pouted. With two of his fingers he slid your panties aside. His thick fingers moving up and down collecting your arousal. "Fuck baby, all this for me?" He groaned.

"Yes fuck yes" You sighed falling back on seat your hand gripping his and other holding the dashboard.

His fingers slide up towards your clit and you let out a loud moan. The frustration leaving your body as he starts running tight but slow circles on it.

"You're so pathetic Y/N I haven't even done anything yet and you look like you're about to cum" He chuckles shaking his head. His cock was straining against his pants begging for release but he needed to please you first.

"Want me to fuck you with my fingers baby? Want to come all over my fingers and drench it?" He asked leaning in close and nipping on your jaw.

He had parked seeing an empty parking lot. The windows were tinted so, unless someone comes really close no one can see them.

He pushes off your jacket seeing your bare shoulders and neck, your tits almost spilling out of your tight top.

He brings his middle and index finger near your entrance and replaces his thumb on your clit. In one motion he pushes them inside you making you choke out a loud moan. Your body topples over gripping his hand tight enough to leave the mark of nails on them.

He's pushing his fingers in and out at a relentless pace. Your hips move up to grind against his hands to chase your high. After sometime he starts pushing his fingers up in a come here motion hitting the spot inside you. All while his lips move along your neck and chest leaving trail of wet kisses.

"Fuck fuck Harry I'm-" You get cut off by a moan. "I know baby" He coos, "Feels good doesn't it?" He says moving his fingers faster you didn't thought he could and all you could do was nod.

You came with a loud moan not caring if there was someone in the lot hearing you two no, it only made your high last longer.

"Fuck my whole hand is wet baby" he says pulling his fingers out. His fingers and rings glistening in your arousal, he takes his time sucking off every single one with his darkened eyes on your tired ones.

"You okay?" He asks pushing hair stick to your forehead out of your face. Instead of answering you take off your seatbealt and move to the drivers seat, in his lap. Your lips on his moving in frantic motion.

His hands slide down to your ass pulling you closer to him, his clothed dick feeling hard against your clothed pussy. You started dry humping on his lap, desperate like a bitch in heat making him groan.

"Fuck baby need you" He breaks the kiss to take a breathe. You keep your hips moving as his lips trail down to your neck making sure to leave his mark.

"Me too" You consent making him hum against your chest. He swats your behind asking you to move, you stand up uncomfortably on your knees as he quickly pushes down his pants and boxers in one go. His cock now laying heavy against his black shirt, red oozing with precum.

You sit back down on his lap grinding against his thigh to get some friction while yiu jerk him off, you give his dick giving it a firm squeeze and slide your thumb on the slit collecting the wetness making Harry moan loudly.

Your panties were uncomfortably sticking to your pussy but you didn't care. Not when he was in front of you red face, parted swollen lips with head thrown back letting out pretty noises.

It was like the switch went off inside his brain when your hand touched his neck. He swatted your hand off his cock and pulled you closer again. "Want this?" He asks again and once you confirm he brings his lips to yours.

His hands slide back under your skirt getting hold of your panties and tearing them in one go. You gasp at the burn but he didn't let you break the kiss. He took the ruined panties and put them in the cup holder.

He finally pulled apart and lined his dick to your entrance pushing it in one go. He gave you some time to adjust his finger moving in soft circle on your clit.

You started swaying your hips back and forth once the pain diminished fucking yourself on him. He groaned and leaned back ajusting his seat all the way back.

"Go on darling take whatever you want. Use me" He said. He brought his hand to your top pulling it down making your tits spill out of them. Harry laid back his hands folded behind his head as you bounced on his dick with your tits moving up and down. He was surprised he didn't already come at the sight.

He bought his hand up to your neck squeezing it enough to make you feel light headed. You threw you head back in ecstasy feeling the euphoria fill your body. Harry bought his hand up from your neck to your jaw holding it tightly, bringing your eyes back at him.

He pushed his thumb against your lips which you invited in sucking on it swirling your tongue while keeping your eyes on him.

"Fuck look at you riding my cock while sucking on my fingers like a filthy whore" He degraded his voice getting deeper and restrained. His words only made you more wet. "Who's slut sre you baby?" He asked.

"Yours" You whined your thighs starting to cramp up from all the movement.

"Aww, my pretty pillow princess getting tired? Want to be a slut but can't work for it?" He pouted taunting. Harry sat up separating his legs wider as he could in the cramped space of car. His hand holding your waist tightly stopping any movement.

"Now I'm going to fuck you like the slut you are and you're going to take it and scream so loud the whole parking should know my name" he whispered in your ears.

You didn't have anytime to comprehend what he said cause he was thrusting up into you at hauntingly pace. Your head fell down to his shoulder muffling the noises leaving you. Harry pulled you back with the hold on your hair making you cry out.

"Look at me when I'm fucking you" His deeper authoritative voice made you clench around him. "Fuck" He cursed out.

Harry bought his lips down to your chest sucking on your nipple hard almost breaking the skin while his fingers rolled the other one. You were a moaning, panting mess, there were tears streaming down your cheeks and you were sure your makeup was all ruined.

But you didn't care.

Harry gave both your breasts equal attention while you slide you hand down to touch your clit. You needed your release asap you couldn't hold it anymore. Seeing you touch yourself while his cock fucking in you had his eyes rolled back.

He was close, his thighs quivering and his balls felt tight ready for release. "Fuck baby I'm about to come" he groaned out, panting against your neck.

"Me too- oh god" you moaned loudly. You were clenching around him so tight you almost pushed him out.

"Where?" he asked. Usually he would pull out coming on your tits, mouth or ass wherever you wanted.

"In me please" You whined out. Harry's eyes bulging out, his pace faltering at the thought of his cum dripping out of you. He knew you were on pill but he never did that not knowing if you would be comfortable or not.

"Are you sure baby?" He asked again to confirm, "Yes I'm on pill but can't care less if you knocked me up" You moaned, you were on the brink of your fall into euphoria. Harry was sure you were angel and the thought him knocking you up was what made him lose it.

"Fuck cum them" He screamed. His order was all you needed, your whole body tingled as your vision went white. You felt Harry shoot his warm load inside you filling you up. Both of you were moaning, whimpering mess coming down from your high.

The car was hot and sticky from all the heat, the window were fogged up and it smelled like sex. You felt harry go soft inside you, his head between your tits while yours in his mess of curls.

"That was fucking incredible" He was the first one to speak. You laughed along with him agreeing.

Harry pulled out of you hissing from slight pain you felt. He shot you an apologetic look and took out some napkins from the dashboard and cleaned you up as much as he could.

He pulled his pants up and you pulled your top up much to Harry's dismay. His childish pout when you started buttoning up your top made you chuckle.

Both of you stayed silently there holding each other in the empty parking lot basking in each other's presence.

"So you will finally go on date with me?" He asks you sheepishly.

"Yes" You laughed fondly.

*****

I'm not trying to make anyone look bad...do I not like her? yes. Do I also not care? yes. I didn't know who she was before this and I'm going to keep it that way<3

Let me know what you think about this or talk to me here♡

Please Like, Comment and Reblog<33

[honeychamomile1]

She Lives In Daydreams

JJ Maybank x girly!fem!reader

Summary: He met her, and she’s oh too sweet for him not to like her.

Warnings: Buying/consuming alcoholic beverages underage, calling someone a jerk? Don’t know if that’s considered a warning but whatever.

Note: For the lovely @tess-08! I really hope this is what you were looking for, and I hope you enjoy! Happy reading and thanks so much for requesting!

Also the title may or not be a Harry Styles lyric

If he turned the bottle just right, the alcohol being beheld inside shined in the sun, making the beer look more like an innocent sweet tea, despite the damage the actual beverage could do to you if mishandled.

JJ, of course, wouldn’t ever do that in his nature, for he just liked the beverage’s taste upon his tongue, how it burned down his throat, sizzling in his stomach as it dumbed his senses temporarily.

But he eventually reached the bottom of the bottle and was left staring down at it, the sight of his dirty surf board blurred in his sight since he was focusing on only one thing.

He grumbled to himself, getting up off the stool he was sitting on and stumbled to the fridge in his friend’s house, grabbing another bottle.

He popped it open, the liquid inside awaiting his lips until he heard bounding on the door, and whoever was on the other side was clearly eager to enter.

“JJ!”

The voice of John B rang through the house, and the boy who was called went to the door, his opened beer on the counter long forgotten.

“John B Routledge!” He sang, opening the door for the boy and letting him in.

John B chuckled, making his way into his own house and blooping on the couch, the piece of furniture creaking in protest.

“Hey, is it okay if Sarah brings her friend when we go out on the boat today? She really insisted, but I wanted to make sure-”

“Yeah, whatever.” JJ said, shrugging his shoulders before his eyes widened, forgetting he had a beer calling his name on the counter. He grabbed it quickly before going back to his friend so they could continue their conversation.

John B acted like JJ didn’t even leave, his eyes opening wide in surprise. “You don’t care? She’s a Kook by the way.” He pointed out, raising a singular eyebrow as if he was waiting for JJ’s reaction.

“Okay? And?” Maybank replied, taking a sip of his beer as if his lips were dying for the sting. “If we trust Sarah we can trust her; they’re friends after all, you said right?”

John B nodded, still looking off guard on how his friend quickly adapted to adding another Kook to their hang out.

“Okay, fine with me I guess. I’ll text Sarah and let her know and we can meet at the dock. Get the beers?”

Maybank agreed reluctantly since he in deed wanted the beverage to with them on the boat, catching the keys John B threw at him and headed outside to the Twinkie.

The windows were opened, wind blowing through his hair as he drove along the road on the way to a gas station nearby.

A bell above the door rang as he entered, boots shuffling across the floor as he entered the beer isle, blue eyes scanning the shelves as he looked for his favorite.

He spotted it, mind not only a little hazy from the one beer he drunk, but also that he was eager to get on the water so that caused him to not pay much attention as he darted for it.

He wished he was paying attention because that was when he bumped into a smaller body, a tiny squeal coming out of the person’s lips.

JJ stumbled, arm going out to study himself on the market shelf, a grunt coming out of mouth when his foot hit the bottom of it.

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” A smooth honey-like voice flowed through his ears, an anxious hint on the edge of her tone.

When JJ was finally able to steady himself-he felt a gentle hand brushing his shirt’s material on the back of his shoulder as a guide- he turned to meet the person he stumbled into.

Though he didn’t to see her clearly right away, he observed it was a girl, yet the first thing he actually got to notice was how enchanting her eyes seemed to be. She made eye contact with him right away, black lashes coated with mascara fluttering when she blinked. She had sparkling eyeshadow covering her eyelids, adding an imaginary twinkle in her eyes that he couldn’t tell if he was being tricked into seeing it, or if it was real.

Her lips were wetted with lip gloss and they were stretched into an apocalyptic smile. She seemed to be wincing, still thinking about their accidental encounter, but his mind was foggy with the thoughts on how pretty she was.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, moving her hair out of her face briefly. “I didn’t see you.”

He nodded. He stupidly nodded. But she just chuckled at the awkward one-sided conversation they were having.

“Are you okay?” She asked instead. JJ thought of nodding again, but he thought it was stupid to do so, so he spoke.

“Of course, peaches.”

A moment of silence. JJ squeezed his eyes shut, hands going to his hair to adjust the strands that had to be messy today. They just had to in the day he would once in a lifetime meet a beautiful girl.

He didn’t see her red cheeks that were redder than the blush she had on and the natural flush she possessed. He didn’t see her swallow nervously and adjust her hair once again.

She cleared her throat to break the silence. “Well I’m glad you’re okay; it sounded like it hurt.”

She added a nervous chuckle to the end, trying to break the ice and she seemed like she was relieved when he opened his eyes and joined in on the laughter.

“Yeah it did, but it’s okay. Just trying to get beer.”

She smiled at him, white teeth and glossy lips. Her eyes seemed to glow when he mentioned the beverage. “Me too! I offered to get some for me and my friends so we can drink it when we hang out later.”

JJ couldn’t help but scan her with his eyes. She was wearing converse that looked like she just got them, ripped denim shorts, and a t-shirt that said ‘here comes the sun’. Her hair was in soft curls that weren’t too harsh nor tight, and it highlighted her cheek bones perfectly. He was enchanted by her.

“You don’t look much like a drinker.” He couldn’t help but note, and was surprised when she started laughing, glossed lips parted in the sound of happiness.

She waved him off with her hand, and that was when he noticed her neatly pained nails, a dark red coating them wonderfully. “No no, I don’t drink, but the friends I’m gonna meet do so I’m getting some for them.”

He nodded, grabbing the beer package of the shelf he was gonna get, and he was surprised that he remembered to get it in the first place, eyes still glancing at the gloss that coated her lips.

“Oh, I was gonna get that one too!” She said almost too cheerfully. She seemed very pleased that they were getting the same beer. JJ couldn’t help but think it was something so little to be happy about, showing him she was happy with the little things.

She grabbed it with her painted nails, grabbing the cardboard handle and grunting ever so softly as she lifted it off the shelf.

“I’ll see you around?”

JJ was lost in his head that he didn’t notice she was already leaving, eyes practically sparkling as she looked at him over her shoulder, as she was ready to check out.

“Mm?” He said half-heartedly as he glanced at the girl he hoped to see every day for the rest of his life. “Yeah, see you.”

At his tight lipped smile she smiled back, white teeth flashing before she turned around, walking towards the register in her spotless converse.

JJ ignored the pounding of his heart as he headed to another register, the pounding getting louder when they made brief eye contact and she smiled wider than before, his cheeks becoming redder than usual.

The boat tipped as Sarah stepped in, her fingers laced tightly in John B’s as he helped her in. She let out a soft squeal, excitement running along her features as she waited for what was coming.

JJ didn’t think much of it at first, briefly acknowledging his friend before turning his attention back towards the water, watching as it flowed to and fro from someone getting on it.

It was until another person entered the boat, and he was confused at first since everyone was already on board, but it clicked when he remembered Sarah was bringing her friend.

So the confusion left his brain, and he didn’t like meeting her that instant so he kept his eyes on the waves.

“Oh, I didn’t know the friends I was talking about were the same people!”

The voice was oh so familiar, oh so smooth and honey-like through his ears that he had to look up, making eye contact once again with those sparkling eyes.

She had the same outfit on, of course, but he spotted soft pink bikini straps on her tanned shoulders. Her smile was as bright as ever, a bottle of sunscreen on her hand and a bag hung on her shoulder. She opened it as she waited for him to respond, choosing to sit next to him.

He smiled, a little wider than planned, yet he didn’t do anything to falter it, eyes once again focused on her sparkling eyes and glossed lips.

“Yeah, but at least we have extra beer.”

She laughed, glancing at him briefly before going back to the sunscreen, squirting a little on her fingers and spreading it on her arms, the white cream slowly blending in with her skin, leaving a soft glow in its path.

“Yeah I guess we do; and I told you I’d see you around!” She said cheerfully, and he chuckled.

Sarah then squealed, walking over to the girl. “Oh I love your nails! Where’d you get them done?”

The girl beside him eagerly answered, leaning over to show her friend, her hands spread out so they could both see the coated nails. “Well actually I painted them myself! The market downtown has the cutest colors and I had to get at least two. I got this one and another one, I can’t remember what it was but I know it was cute.”

Sarah laughed at the last part, nose scrunched and eyes wide with happiness.

JJ of course only made that brief observation, since he was too busy watching the girl he oh so admired laughing too, her eyes practically covered with glee.

He of course couldn’t see why they were getting so hyped up about nail polish, but it seemed to make her lips stretch and it was something he wanted to see for days on end, so in reality he didn’t really care.

He didn’t care what he had to do, as long as it would be for seeing those lips open wide in a grin, eyes sparking as she looked at him. He would do anything to make her smile, to put it simply. Absolutely anything.

“JJ surfs, right Maybank?”

He turned his head quickly form the girl to Sarah, and he found both of them looking at him. “What?”

Sarah chuckled. “I said you surf, right?”

JJ must of been looking at the girl with painted nails longer than he thought, so long the topic of conversation changed. He ended up nodding in response. “Y-yeah, I surf sometimes.”

Okay, ‘sometimes’ would be an understatement, but he didn’t want to let the girl know that his whole personality was made up of being the clumsiest person to exist and having surfing on his mind twenty four seven.

But she just laughed, and the noise brought him out of the thoughts that we’d running in his mind. His heart squeezed, heart seeming to pump louder the normal in his ears and he questioned if she could hear it.

“Don’t be embarrassed about it, I think it’s cool!” She assured, her hand coming and touching his arm comfortingly. His cheeks burned but he managed to not show it.

“Thanks.” He managed to say, smiling at her and it felt awkward until Kie suggested to swim.

Everyone raced for the water, the girls taking off their shirts and bottoms to show their bikini as they jumped in the waves. JJ couldn’t resist the cool water either, taking his shirt off and throwing it in his once was sitting place.

The girl that was once beside him stayed put, smearing sunscreen on her legs that seemed to be getting browner by the day from the sun.

He chuckled, picking up his shirt again and this time chucking it at her, her lips spilling out a surprised squeal.

“What? Scared of water of somethin’, sweet cheeks?”

Her cheeks may have been already red from the sun, but it was at that moment JJ noticed the flushed color of her skin. She shook her head, a soft smile on her lips. “No, I just don’t feel like swimming.”

JJ shrugged, a smirk playing on the corners of his mouth and luckily she didn’t notice, her eyes once again on the cream in her hands.

“Suit yourself.” He said, pretending he was okay with her not joining them. He didn’t want to admit it but he felt like he wouldn’t have proper fun without her in the water, so he decided to change that.

His arms went around her waist suddenly, a surprise gasp escaping her still glossy lips as he picked her up effortlessly, carrying her to the edge of the boat.

Another gasp pushed itself out of her, polished hands coming to his shoulders as a way to stop him. “JJ! Stop, I said I didn’t want to swim!”

He chuckled in response, pretending to drop her with a fake ‘oops’ sound as she squealed in fear that he could tell wasn’t fully real.

“I said stop, I’m not kidding!” She said throughout the never ending giggles, his fingertips now digging into her sides.

He held her lower, the tickling long forgotten as he urged to give into the want to drop her in the water.

“Want me to put you down?” He teased, and laughed at her eager immediate nod in response. “You said so.”

With that, he went backward toward her seat, pretending he was gonna sit her down, safeness about to settle into her chest once again before it was quickly replaced by surprise and fear, a loud scream escaping her lips as he turned around, feet racing right off the boat, their bodies soon being enrolled in water, a loud large splash covering everyone.

They emerged from the water’s surface, her hands immediately going to her hair to move it from her face. Her wet lashes still beheld water droplets, and every time blinked one would cascade down her cheek. She had an annoyed angry curl to her lips, a mischievous glint in her eyes a her hands went to him, grabbing his head and forcing it under water once again.

He fought back quickly, a splash fight forming between the two.

“JJ! I said to put me down! Now I’m all wet!” She scolded once the splashes settled down, her hands squeezing the water in her hair out.

He chuckled and shoved her shoulder. “That’s the whole point of being in water.”

She pursed her wet lips at the remark. “And I didn’t want to get wet, and you ruined that, jerk.”

He fake gasped, placing a hand on his chest, now noticing hers was now see-through, her bathing shirt beneath the shirt was now oh so visible. He tried not to stare, but he failed.

She crossed her arms over her chest after she snapped her fingers to break him out of his trance. “Eyes up here, Maybank.”

Like, reblog, and comment to make me happy!

[sentientcave]

Wildflowers and Honey

IT'S WIP WEDNESDAY BAYBEEE and you know what that means! It means I've ignored the projects I planned on working on and started working on a semi-historical omegaverse fic instead. Because I haven't written one before I obviously had to make it extra difficult on myself by making it a low-key Western. No blockers for scents or heats we are just out here rawdogging life.

We can blame this on @dragonnarrative-writes tbh, making me want to write omegaverse. But we're HERE now and we're having FUN with it. As per usual the "reader" is an OC.

You hum noncommittally, tugging your sleeves to make sure you’re as covered as possible. “Are you, um, enjoying living here so far?” you ask, hunting for conversation.

“We sure are,” John says. “It gets better all the time. You ladies want to come in for tea? Ain’t got nothing fancy, no one’s made a habit of callin’ on us yet. We’ll be better prepared next time.”

“We’d love to,” Sarah says cheerfully. “Let me just take Nosy to the pond for a drink.” She unhooks the horse quickly, and leads her away, leaving you standing beside the cart, the four alphas all studying you openly.

“Come on in, then.” John steps in beside you, and gently steers you toward the house, his hand pressed against your lower back. Up close, there’s a warm touch of whiskey in his scent. You clamp down on the instinct to lean in closer. You just have to be polite until Sarah’s satisfied that you’ve met your neighbours. They seem nice enough, but you can’t help but feel like a plump little rabbit surrounded by dogs.

The feeling only intensifies when you step inside. You would expect a building that houses four alphas would be overwhelming, maybe even unpleasant, but you’re hit but a combination of heady scents that make your knees weak. Sourdough bread and sweet fruit and spices, honeysuckle, citrus, that warm tobacco and whiskey that clings to John’s skin, faint traces of leather and wood smoke and spruce and sun-dried cotton. It smells homey.

It’s also surprisingly tidy inside, the floors swept clean, the counters and table scrubbed clean. Kyle pulls a chair out for you, and lifts it right off the ground when he slides it back in. “Sorry,” he says when you squeak, but there’s a laugh in his voice, and you suspect he’s not all that sorry. He’s the one that smells like spices, cloves and cardamom, and sweet peach. Something subtle and slightly bitter underneath, like toasted walnut. He makes a low rumbling sound of approval, like he’s just tasted your scent and thinks it’s just as nice.

Soap tosses the package onto the table and moves a chair closer, spinning it around so he can lean on the back of it, propping his chin on his folded arms. His blue eyes are sharper than John’s, a brighter, more intense blue. “So, Kitty—”

“I’d prefer Miss Haydon,” you say weakly.

“Not very neighbourly of you.” Simon sits across from you, his foot tapping yours. You slide your feet under your chair and out of the way. “Figure we ought to be friendly, eh?”

“Oh stoppit, ye wee big bastart, yer scarin’ the poor lass. Put yer eyes away.” Soap reaches over and tilts the brim of Simon’s hat down over his eyes, then looks at you with all the bearing of a large, silly dog that wants praise for doing a good job. “So, Kitty,” he continues, like he hadn’t been corrected before. “D’ye need any help around yer farm? We’re almos’ done our big work for the season, except the big drive down to Helena for market. Happy to help oot where we can.”

“Oh, I don’t think my daddy’s gonna want your help,” you say quickly. “It’s a very kind offer, but he won’t abide other alphas in his territory.”

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 3

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Words: 4,990, Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Sexism, Arguing, Man trying to get with reader.

A/N: AAAHHHH PART 3?!!? Guys this is so much fun for me and I'm so glad you guys are having fun too. Is it weird that I feel like we are doing this together? Also guys just to warn you... we are getting a little angsty,,, a little violent... So if you are not into it, comment and I will give you the general plot of this chapter if it become too much! Anyway please enjoy, love you guys so much! And if I forgot to add you to the taglist I am so sorry! Just lemme know and I'll amend it! And if you need to see the other parts, click the tag with the title of the series, and it should have all the parts together! Ok I’m done!

The home of Alfie Solomons was the quintessential diorama of an old man's bachelor pad. Despite the anxious and angsty attempts by his elderly maid Sarah, the home still carried the air of a man who not only preferred to be left alone, but also had no plans of adding anyone into his inner sanctum. There was paper and documents strewn about, half read books piled by his favorite chair, a hosting bar cart that was looking more ancient than him, and a massive dog making his home on the floor in front of the roaring fire. Alfie silently thanked Sarah for her efforts. Sarah was the best housekeeper he could have ever asked for, she was essentially silent, and did not scold him for the ever present animal pen he kept. Then only things she asked for was to be paid on time, for her Sabbath to be uninterrupted, and to be warned ahead of time if there was to be company. Luckily, he never had to concern her with the last item.

With a grunt he landed on his favorite chair, studying the unused love seat and the matching chair to his that sat across from him. It was a set that was meant to host, that was meant to have visitors and entertain. He had no idea why he bought them, they looked exactly as they did when he bought them three years ago. Untouched. And yet he couldn't help but imagine you sitting so prettily on the chair beside him. With every inhale he could smell the lingering scent of you on his jacket lapel. Clean, like plain soap and fresh air. A kiss of lavender oil that washed over him as you flipped your hair out of your face. He could see so clearly you laughing at his jokes, pouring out tea for you and him, rubbing Cyrils face and giggling at Alfie's gruffness. He could see you darning a small sock...

With a groan Alfie rubbed the visions out of his eyes like a dream. Because that's what it was isn't it? A stupid stupid dream. You were so... fresh and sweet and... frustrating and loud and obnoxious and such a know it all and... beautiful and kind and smart and...

Alfie huffed and got up to beg for sleep in his room, but his head on the pillow only ran through these reveries even more. You were much to young. 10 years his junior at least. You were pure and kind, and he was a bad man. It was an unequal yoke to carry. He had killed people in the war and at home. He had manipulated and schemed to get this. And you deserved more. You deserved a good man, a softer man. Someone who lived a quiet life and could give you a life above board, where you never had to look over your shoulder. Someone who was gentle and wouldn't argue with you, would just treat you like the Queen of Sheba. That is what you deserved. Not some old gangster with a bad back and dozens of men plotting his demise. With a sigh he resolved his promise. He would take care of you as long as you let him. Protect you from all the mess and nonsense of this job, and let you be the girl you are. And when it was time to let you go... he'd let you go. He could protect you and honor you ask long as you'd let him, but when the right man came along, he’d let you leave, knowing that you were safe. And with a sigh he rolled over, letting himself sleep for a few hours, his mind slipping off into a world where you maybe chose him, and made that other chair your favorite.

Across Camden you had just finished explaining to your mother that your very kind boss had just brought you home after a late night in the office. You had to assure her that you were safe and that he was very respectable, that no danger was present. Though the constant worrying and fussing irritated you sometimes, she was a good woman, a good mother, who just wanted the best for her oldest child.

Your mother and father got married incredibly young, and were forced to become acquainted with the world and it’s imbalances even earlier. Where you still got to be young and childless and educated, your mother at your age had already had you, and was working in the family tailors shop full time. The day you realized your mother could scarcely write her name, you heard your mother sobbing to your father late in the evening. It was then that you resolved to do your best in everything, making sure your mothers sacrifices weren’t in vain. And if it took a little white lie to keep her from having a heart attack? Well… it would be worth it.

“Ah I just don’t know darling, that seems awfully forward don’t you think? I don’t even remember your father being alone with me ever until our wedding night? Are we sure he is a good man? Do you have anything with you in your purse darling?”

“Mama I promise you everything is fine. I think his insistence in NOT letting me walk home is evidence enough yes?”

Your mother fiddled with the end of her long braid, a habit indicating her anxiety, a motion you know well, “Mmm I suppose… but darling I just worry. Young women now… very very independent and it is good but… oh I just don’t want you to be taken advantage of darling. Will you take a weapon or something with you?”

You laughed, and maybe you shouldn’t laugh at your own mother. But… oh it is your mother!!! The sweet woman that she was! Who refused to go to sleep without a candle, and forbid your father from cleaning his gun around her, and dropped many a plate due to loud noises… what does she know about a weapon!! “Mama what weapon?! Shall I bring a hand gun to work? Mama none of us know how to use a gun, except Papa and Eli! I’m ok I promise! My boss is not a dangerous man!”

From her place in the kitchen cabinet you heard her speak, “Oh hush! Of course not a gun!! You are absolutely ridiculous. No just take this pocket knife ok? Oh please don’t look so disturbed! It is in good condition and your father got it for me when he would have to work late at the tailors! Will just put it in your work bag please? For your poor mother? If you love me you’ll do it!”

With a laugh and a kiss on her soft cheek you affirmed her, “Of course mama, I could never refuse your gifts. Now now mama don’t be cross i am not teasing! Just promise me you don’t worry about me anymore! I am a grown woman and I am very capable of taking care of things. I learned from the best yeah?”

You mother nodded and kissed your cheek back, patting your head, “Yes yes. Well thank you my love. Now I’m off to bed, and you should too. Sleep well my darling.”

As you prepared for bed you felt a heaviness in the pit of your stomach. What would your mother say when she found out you had been lying to her? What if she did find out? What if she sees you with Alfie in the street? No no it wasn’t possible. Your mother hadn’t left this side of Camden in a decade, and she hates going farther than two blocks. No no it’s fine. You’re fine. And technically, it wasn’t a complete lie! No Alfie was honorable! And he was sweet! And he was handsome… and kind…. and smart… and rugged… if he weren’t a gangster you would’ve probably been matched with him… to be his wife.. No no! No what a childish fantasy. Those are the thoughts of a love struck child. He was your boss and that was it! So what if he was handsome? You were his secretary and that was it! And if he somehow decided to… promote you… you allowed a giggle to leave your chest as you blew out the lamp next to you. Tomorrow is another day.

Soon you developed a routine with Alfie, and the next few months seemed to fly like a wonderful dream. During the week you woke up, making yourself and Alfie lunch for day. The walk to the bakery was typically a lovely and brisk one, with the rising sun being your partner.

Upon arriving at the office, you make quick work of saying hello to the regular faces, and sneaking a sweet treat to Ollie. You set the kettle on, making sure a nice hot cup is ready for you and Alfie upon his arrival. A healthy amount of milk and sugar for you. Almost no milk for Alfie, but extra sugar. Then the daily schedule needs to be attended to. After working with Alfie for a few months you’ve developed a system of who gets what treatment. Some names get tea and a pleasant seat. Some get very bitter tea and must stand the entire time while they wait. Some get absolutely nothing, and are made to stand with their back to Alfie’s door, wondering how they will be summoned. Shot or call. During the meetings you take copious notes. Partially to make sure you don’t miss anything that Alfie will need to call upon later, partially to make visitors nervous about what is being recorded. You had become quite the necessary tool for Alfie. You added a certain glamour and class to the office. A sort of authority in the way you walked that continued to make weak men sweat in the office. Alfie’s favorite part of these meetings was having you re-read what was said, noticing that you added a certain something to keep the pressure on the other party. You were proving yourself an absolute natural.

It was during a day like this when Alfie came back from a ‘social visit’ with a big smile on his face, “Shalom treacle!! Get your coat darling we’re going out!”

You looked up from the calendar you were organizing, “Shalom Alfie, what do you mean we are going out? You have an appointment at 2, and you need to look at the numbers from last week and-“

“Hush woman, fuck the meeting I said we are going out.”

He grabbed your long coat from the hook, and held it open for you to put it on, “Now my love we have very special things today. You remember the gaming club Tommy mentioned? Well he found a place right? And today we are going to look at it and get a price for it.”

As you put your arms through the sleeves, and grabbed your scarf from Alfie you can’t help but question, “But what does this have to do with me? Why do you want me there?”

Alfie then finished his dressing of you by handing you your bag and offering you his arm, “What does this have to do with you? What does this have to do with you? Have I heard that right? Well my dear you put the fear of the devil himself into men like no other. Make them piss themselves. No no don’t laugh treacle it’s true! I need you to strike fear in the hearts of these sinners and help me find the holes. Think you can do it darling?”

The way he smiled at you… it made you want to do anything and everything for him. You smiled and nodded, “Let’s get on with it then.”

Alfie smiled even greater at the small smirk that played on your beautiful lips. He loved it when you worked with him like this. You walked arm and arm, laughing and carrying on like mischievous children ready to prank their teacher. You arrive at the possible location still laughing when you meet Thomas Shelby, and two other men, who you can only assume are the other Shelby brothers that you’ve heard so much about. Your eyes meet with Tommy’s, and you feel your stomach drop at the wink he gives you before walking toward you and Alfie. “Alfie, glad you could make it, “ he stoops down to grab your hand and kiss it, “Good to see you again darling. Let me introduce you to my brothers.”

You’re introduced to both Arthur and John. Your eyes soften at both their faces. John’s eyes show a soft mirth, a sweetness of a young man who still has so much to learn, much like Eli. Arthur… just looking at him your heart is heavy. You don’t know anything about him but his eyes look sad, and there is a weight to his shoulders that make you already feel quite sorry for him.

It takes about three flights of stairs to reach the top floor of the building. It's musty, clearly has not been used for some time, there are cobwebs and piles of dust over every counter, and the once white cloths covering the tables are now a dingy gray. Your wide eyes look up and around the space, clutching your notepad and pen to your chest, "What did this place used to be?"

Tommy answered, "It was once a bar, a little club run by some young idiot who thought he knew his way around this business. Couldn't make it past a year. Now.... it's been sitting vacant. Waiting for us."

You stray from Alfie's side, making notes of everything that would need to be done, "What all is included in the sale?"

"Everything. Tables, counters, fixtures, chairs. All for a reasonable price if you ask me."

"Mmmm Alfie will be the judge of that I think. Alfie, the wall paper will need to be redone yes? I think a richer color on the walls."

Alfie looked at Tommy and smiled, "Yes you're quite right treacle. A wine red yeah? Something indicative of the debauchery of such a hell hole."

"Mmm yes. Tommy, John, Arthur... how stable is this bar counter? How much would it cost to replace it?"

And so went the rest of the afternoon. You milling around the space making notes and sketches, and supplementing with the comments of the men in the room, who may or may not have been following you like ducklings. John and Arthur pulled curtains to let light in, and frankly John was more than willing to do what it took to gain a pleased smile from you. Once adequate notes had been taken, everyone sat around a table, waiting for the agent to come by and agree to a price.

During this part of the meeting, you tended to hold your tongue, only responding to when Alfie asked you to ‘refresh’ his memory on a particular point. It was these parts of the meetings that you could really see Alfie work his magic. Tommy Shelby and Alfie Solomons couldn’t be more different. Where Tommy was smooth and steady in tone, Alfie was a hurricane. A bear of a man who ripped things to shreds. Though on the surface it looked as though Alfie was merely destroying and rebuilding on a whim, there was a method. Study his opponent, memorize the motions and responses to his moves, and utilize it against them. Use previous information to flip and return on his enemy. It was a studied craft. Something you knew that had worked on for a long time. It was an art piece, and with every wink he threw your way, it was clear it was not just an act, but a piece of him. He was a gangster, through and through.

Soon enough, a deal was reached, and a plan was set in place for renovations to start the very next day. And in accordance with their 50/50 split, equal men of Shelby’s and Solomons’ men would be taking part in the work. All the men shook hands, you nodded and smiled at the Shelbys, quick to rebuff Tommy’s offer to take your hand again. Alfie seemed to be in a particularly good mood, and as you walked out of the building, he looked at you and said, “Oi... you hungry?"

You stopped and peered up in his eyes that were partially obscured by the wide brim of his hat, "Mr. Solomons are you asking me to dinner?"

He rolled his eyes, "Oh goodness... see this is why you can never be nice right? Because there you go... being cheeky with me... can never be a yes or no with you yeah? It's always got to be something with you innit? I mean - "

"Alfie Alfie! Yes I am hungry! Now take me to dinner and buy me a drink yeah?" You laughed at his blustering and grabbed his arm, making him meet your eyes, he huffed in response but couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"Buy you a drink yeah buy you a drink! Buy you a hobby so you stop harassing old men. I mean don't you have anything better to do than just be mean to your old boss?"

You laughed as you both walked away down the street, "What do you mean a hobby? My whole life now is just doing your bidding isn't it? And someone must keep you humble, all that business makes your head explode."

You let Alfie lead you to a clandestine pub a few blocks away, shrouded by family businesses and laughing people. As soon as Alfie walked in, the wait staff scurried around, clearing a table in the corner for both you and Alfie. Soon enough you had been given food and drink, and you felt increasingly more relaxed in your seat, facing away from the door opposite of Alfie. You allowed yourself to day dream in the comfortable silence you occupied. It didn't feel like dinner with your boss. It felt like dinner with a friend. Dinner with more than a friend. You imagined about what it would be like with Alfie all the time. To spend the afternoon with him walking through town, enjoying the sun and the conversation. To be taken to dinner with him, meet with friends and repeating faces. To be taken back home with him... sit in front of his fire... to fall asleep with him...

"Hello... treacle??" You're knocked out of your reverie with Alfie's bejeweled fingers waving in front of your face.

"Oh my gosh Alfie I'm so sorry! Yes whats wrong?"

Alfie laughed heartily head thrown back, "Goodness darling your mind must've been in fucking Timbuktu! I was asking if you wanted another drink?"

You felt the heat flush to your ears and cheeks and chuckled in your embarassment, "Oh my goodness I'm so embarrassed. No no I'm fine Alfie thank you. You go, I'll keep our table."

Alfie nodded and went to the bar to grab another glass of Rum. You proceeded to look around the cozy pub when a man slid into Alfie's seat. "Well hello beautiful. Mind if I sit here?"

Your eyes rushed to him. Young. Could be handsome if he cared to bathe and wash the stink of liquor off of him and change his shirt. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was sweaty. Stupid. Clearly so. "I'm sorry but you must be mistaking me for someone else. I'm here with my boss and you are sitting in his seat."

He sneered and winked at you, "Oh I saw the old man alright. Solomons yeah, I know him. I'm not too worried about the old man darling. Why don't you come sit with me yeah? I promise I am much more pleasant company."

The irritation was brewing in your stomach, but in truth you didn't want to cause a scene, "If you know Mr. Solomons then you either have a death wish or you are stupid. Please leave and get away from me. Mr. Solomons will not be happy to see you in his seat."

"You calling me stupid?"

"I am. You are clearly an imbecile, and a drunk one at that, now if you excuse me."

You proceeded to get up to find Alfie, when the man stood up and grabbed your arm, "You dumb bitch, how dare you get up. I'm trying to be nice to you!"

The table fell over with a clatter, and you began to scream, "Get off of me!!"

Before you could say another word Alfie came through wretching the man's hand off your arm, squeezing the man's neck."Now you listen to me right? You apologize to the young lady right now."

The young man's face began to slowly turn red, but he managed to splutter out, "Or what? You're gonna hit me with your cane?"

Alfie only seemed to squeeze tighter, and you saw something in Alfie's eyes that you've never seen before. It scared you. "No... no no... this is what's going to happen. If you don't apologize to the sweet young lady here. I will kill you. If you do apologize, I will not kill you. Now I think... I think that is a pretty generous offer yeah? And little man... I think you know who I am. And I think you know that killing little vermin like you doesn't bother me the least bit yeah? So what will it be? Quickly now!"

Without Alfie letting go, the slowly purpling face gasped out, "I'm sorry. I'm so... sorry ma'am."

You nodded back, feeling bile rise in your throat. Alfie dropped the man unceremoniously on the floor with a crack of the table. Without looking away from the gasping man he yelled to seemingly no one and everyone, "OUT!"

Every patron but you and the owner scrambled out with out a second thought. The bar owner locked the door and went to the back, and you felt your pulse quicken ringing in your ears. The sick in your stomach swirling. Alfie circled the still gasping man, who had bruises blooming on his throat, "Now... who taught you to grab women like that eh? Who said that was ok?"

The man didn't respond, and in anger Alfie kicked him right in the ribs. You screamed behind your hands as you heard the sickening thud and crack. Alfie grabbed the man by the collar and shoved him against the wall, 'WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? YOU THINK YOU CAN GRAB MY SECRETARY! YOU CAN GRAB MY GUEST?"

The young man began to sob, begging, and saying he was sorry. Alfie only continued, "Oh you crying now yeah? I thought you said you knew about me and weren't scared. That's why you thought you could harass my sweet secretary yeah? Well let me get you better acquainted."

With that, you saw the Mad Baker of Camden for the first time. Beating and beating and beating the man in front of you. Blood coating the knuckles of Alfie, as the young man's face proceeded to take the most brutal beating of it's life. You tried to stay quiet but it became too much, "ALFIE ENOUGH! It's enough Alfie!"

He paused, fist mid air as the man quivered underneath him. Alfie turned to you, "Enough? It's enough?? This man touched you without your permission and this is enough?!"

"You're going to kill him Alfie! Please enough!"

"I determine when it's enough!"

And he went back to punching him, growing more and more wrathful. And it became too much when the groans stopped, but the punches didn't. All you could do was scream at Alfie and weep. When Alfie finally finished and was heaving, you shoved a napkin in Alfie's hand and left without a word.

You began walking down the street, the tears streaming down your face. You didn't want anyone to see you crying, and the slowly setting sun aided. It was going to be an hour walk home. Your feet will hurt by the end of the night. But you didn't care. You needed the walk. You needed the air. You needed the scent of blood out of your nose and the sight of Alfie out of your mind. You had walked for who knows how long when you heard Alfie's voice yelling over the sound of a car, "Get in the car NOW!"

You looked over your shoulder, Alfie was yelling your name out the window of the car, with Ollie driving. You turned your head back and kept walking forward. You kept hearing Alfie curse, yelling your name, "Stop being a child and get in. DO AS I SAY NOW!"

"OR WHAT? YOU'LL BEAT ME WITHIN AN INCH OF MY LIFE??"

You tried to keep walking, but in a dangerous move the car sped and swerved in front of you, blocking your walk. You gasped as Alfie got out of the car, with a red stained, jeweled finger in your face, "Listen to me... you stop this act. You get in the car right now. You can be angry at me all you want but listen to me... you do not walk home alone. You work for me, you don't walk alone at night. Now. Get. In. The. Fucking. Car."

Tears were still streaming down your face, and you were so so angry with him, but you didn't have a choice. And your feet were hurting. With a huff you walk in the car, not letting him hold the door open for you. You sat in your seat, nodding at a very embarrassed looking Ollie. As soon as Alfie sat next to you, you stared out the window, looking at all the apartments whose occupants were definitely not listening in to your argument. You sat in silence for a few moments, but you couldn't hold it in any longer, "That was too far Alfie."

"I decide what is too far."

"You could have killed him."

"And the world would be better for it."

"You cannot treat people like that Alfie. He was just a child."

"A child who definitely would have hurt another woman in the future, he needed to learn a lesson."

You turned to him then, "Oh and that's how people are taught then yeah? Beating them to a bloody pulp any time they make you upset?"

He leaned in to your face, getting dangerously quiet, "This is my life darling. This is what you signed up for."

You scoffed, "I did not sign up to be a witness to you being a beast! This is not a way to live! This is heinous! You don't have a right to treat people this way!"

You didn't realize your volume, or the way your heart was racing. You were heaving, tears streaming down your face. His eyes... fixated on you. There was rage but you knew it wasn't at you, "I have every right darling. This is the life that has been given to me. Everything that I have, everything that I can give to you, Ollie, and the rest of the men in that distillery, is because of what I do. This world that we live in darling? You think that's fair? Nah... that ain't fair. If you want anything in this life... you need to take it. Grab it with both hands and never let go and never let anyone else take it. This is the way this world works beloved. This. This is what you signed up for. Now either grow up... or don't come back to the office."

You breath stopped. You didn't even consider that option. You felt more tears fall as you turn to face the window again. The rest of the car ride was in agonizing silence. You hated every minute. Alfie made no noise except a huff. After an infinity, you finally reached your home before you could move Alfie put his hand out, "Don't get up yet."

He grumbled as he got out of the car, looked around at both ends of the street, and then went to your door, opening it and helping you out. You refused to meet his eyes but you took his hand. You also let him walk you to the door, and as you reached for the door, you hear him cough and say, "I want you back at the office treacle alright? Course I do. But you really need to decide whether you can handle this. I hate seeing you upset I do darling. But this is who I am. This is the business. Now you need to decide if you can do it. Alright?"

You nodded your head limply. He just patted your head, feeling sick in his stomach, "Alright then. I'll know your answer if I don't see you tomorrow. Good night sweet heart."

"Goodnight Alfie." You whispered, turning your back quickly to run upstairs. Alfie would drive home in complete silence that night, agonizing about what would happen.

You ran past your whole family gathered around mending the laundry in the sitting room. You refused to tell you mother what happened, and didn't let Eli in your room. When your younger sister asked you what was wrong, you just cried in her chubby baby arms, while she patted your head with her child palms. You cried in your pillow, reliving the vision you saw, wondering what to do. You didn't want to see that kind of violence, you had never seen anything like that. But you loved this job. You loved your freedom. You loved spending time in the office, laughing with Alfie and meeting new people. You tossed and turned all night, but sleep would not take you. It was well past midnight when you finally felt the exhaustion of the day creep its' fingers over your eyes.

And then you smelled the smoke.

Tag List: @jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia

[azurestar]

Just for fun, some DC Christmas fic recs.

only you will have stars that can laugh by silverwhittlingknife (@silverwhittlingknife)

You coming over is possibly the only thing that’s gonna stop me from wanting to punch your dad in the face, Dick doesn’t say. My current Christmas Day plans are 1) pace around at home, and 2) try not to obsess about what Bruce is up to, so trust me, you’ll be an improvement, Dick doesn’t say. Tim's alone on Christmas Eve. Dick finds out, and fixes it.

A beautifully crafted portrait of Dick and Tim’s relationship; perfectly captures their dynamic and the love between them.

Christmas in Kansas by Unpretty (@unpretty)

Clark Kent invites Bruce Wayne and Diana of Themyscira to his parents' house for Christmas. It goes, in general, pretty okay.

A heartfelt exploration of the Trinity’s relationships with each other and with the Kents.

Season of Grace by shobogan (@shobogan)

Barbara decides to have a little Christmas gathering of her own.

Barbara invites Stephanie, Helena, Cassandra, and Jason over for Christmas. A well-characterized piece that highlights the similarities between five of the more isolated members of the Batfamily.

Good Tidings by Thistlerose (@thistlerosie)

AKA "How I Spent My Winter Vacation" by the Justice League

A lovely piece on the Justice League and the relationships within it. Sweet and heartwarming.

It's a Wonderful Earth-218 by BeatriceEagle (@beatriceeagle)

As Blüdhaven burns, Dick makes a wish that he'd never been born. He wakes up in a world where that's true, being followed around by a supervillain who just really wants to get back to taking over the world.

Inspired by It’s A Wonderful Life; an excellent character study of Dick Grayson, his relationships, and his impact on the universe as a whole.

Patches by ryoukootonashi (@junkoandthediamonds)

It’s Christmas eve, and presents are exchanged.

Tim and Kon exchange gifts. Cute and heartwarming, a testament to how much they mean to each other— even as Kon wishes for something more.

The Fundamental Things Apply by Thistlerose (@thistlerosie)

Well, thought Shayera, it's not Christmas if I'm not getting thrown out of some dive.

A bittersweet moment between Shayera Hol and John Stewart, as they start to bridge the distance still between them.

Jason's First Christmas, by lurkinglurkerwholurks (@lurkinglurkerwholurks)

It's Jason's first Christmas. All of them.

Jason Todd throughout the years, as his life changes over and over— and as he loses his family and regains it.

Desolation Row, by Havendance (@havendance)

“I won't stop you,“ Batman says. Jim shoots. [At the end of No Man's Land, Jim Gordon kills the Joker.]

A haunting portrayal of the aftermath of Sarah Essen’s death, and the weight of Jim’s decision.

I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus by pupeez4eva ( pupeez4eva)

It’s Christmas time, and Damian is on a mission - to stop this ‘Santa Claus’ fellow from molesting his older brother.

One of the first Batman fics I read; still makes me laugh to this day.

Tea for Two by Zahri (@zahri-melitor)

Barbara Gordon and Sarah Essen are still learning what it means to be a stepfamily. Three Mother's Days and other family holiday events.

Barbara Gordon and Sarah Essen through the holidays, as No Man's Land approaches and arrives.

Tradition by shobogan (@shobogan)

Cass spends Christmas Eve with family.

Cassandra and the Gordons share Christmas dinner.

Don’t You Forget About Me by sohotthateveryonedied (@sohotthateveryonedied)

A mysterious stranger visits the Batfamily during the holidays. He remembers all of them, but they don't remember him.

A sweet-yet-heartbreaking piece that highlights how deeply important Dick’s relationships with his family are, even when they don’t remember him.

[pollyna]

What makes Sarah cry harder than she would have thought she would during Tom's funeral is the absence of the Annapolis ring. She knew she lost Tom way before the cancer and way before the divorce, but still, that piece of jewellery was with him since the day she met him and he never took it out of his hand.

It's a lost ring until she doesn't start seeing a glimpses of it one day, when Maverick starts coming around to fix this and that - from the door of the garden house to that stupid window Tom sweared he called the handyman to repair it. Sometimes Bradley is there with him, but most of the time, he's around alone, and she is flattered, how could she not be when Pete Mitchell looks like that on the verge of his sixties?

But then, she sees the shape of it when Pete is moving a particularly heavy pot, and then it's the particular colour of the gem that stands against his white t-shirt but all she can think is that it's all a big enough coincidence.

Until she doesn't find him, sitting behind Tom's desk and playing with his ring and she wants to be furious with him because that's her late husband's ring and what right has he to wear it? What right he has to be in her life and flirt with her while he's wearing something like that?!

She feels like she is going to scream and kick him out and demand the ring back because what the actual- Pete's voice is soft and even if Sarah can only see his hands and the ring she knows he's crying.

"It- it's good to be around here. Not the same, never the same, but you're less far away. It doesn't make sense, but most of the times even your face didn't make sense, and yet, here we are. You said it would have helped but you know what I see, everytime I remember I'm wearing it? The day on the beach, with Bradley running around and Carole's yellow dress and how you used a paper to cover our faces while we kissed. If I close my eyes I can still feel your hands around my face and how your ring was cold even when everything was hot and sweaty."

She takes a step back, and then another. When he comes out of Tom's study, eyes still a little red she offers him a cup of tea and smiles. The ring resting on Pete's chest.

[cobalt-knave]

Supernatural Fiction Podcast Recs

Happy halloween! I wanted to put together another rec list to get out today.

Supernatural fiction includes some fantasy, some horror, and something all on its own. Here is a rec list of some audio dramas I enjoy in this genre.

The Antique Shop

The audio journal of Maya, a university student who takes a job at an antique shop. The shop contains strange and magical and cursed items. It also contains Madam Norna, who can help people with supernatural problems but there is always a cost, and the Madam must work with fate and not against it-- something Maya doesn’t agree with. There is also a great enemies (or acquaintances with animosity between them) to friends relationship that makes me happy.  

What follows is the strange stories of those that come to the shop and the slow corruption arc esque change as Maya becomes closer and closer to Fate and the role of the Madam.

The Bridge

Watchtower 10 sits in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, keeping lonely watch over the Transcontinental Bridge. Our main character Etta broadcasts stories, often strange, that happened on the Bridge. Meanwhile, some of her backstory begins to be revealed, and the sea creature in lower level 3 has people coming after him.

Etta and the other people who work at Watchtower 10 are all delightful characters.

McGillicuddy And Murder’s Pawn Shop

The podcast is set in 1921 taking the format of the diary belonging to Melinda Maudie Merkle. Maude has a terribly boring life as a typist, and one of her only sources of joy is going every so often to a pawn shop, McGillicuddy & Murder’s. One day, she comes across a broken piece of china with a blue eye on it. After coming home with the eye, strange things begin to happen, and she finds herself immersed in a world of wonder and horror and magic. An adventure, at last. Though perhaps not quite how she imagined it.

A lot of healing into a new person, leaving behind bad relationships, and surrounding one’s self with trusted friends and community. And, of course, adventure.

The McIlwraith Statements

15 years after the fact, Sarah McIlwraith is making her statements regarding the infamous IPP study. The IPP study was a psychology-focused scientific study into mediums, hauntings, and the paranormal. It lasted three years before it was revealed to be a hoax, ruining the careers of those involved. Sarah was a phd student working on the study. But here is the thing: the study never found anything, but Sarah has always been able to see ghosts. And many of those haunted locations were indeed haunted.

Sarah is a great character, and the stories she tells are all very interesting as you hear about how the study worked, the ghosts she met and helped, the mediums that always seemed to be faked. Meanwhile, Sarah is looking into the mysterious funding the projects got, which keeps a good meta plot going.

Kane and Feels

Lucifer Kane and Brutus Feels, paranormal investigators. These two are chaotic, absolutely insane, and fantastic. Great use of narration with both characters alternating narrating. They are buddies, your honor. Horror! Weird things! Dream logic! If it’s a demon, Feels will probably punch it. The little one helps, and the big one makes tea.

The Hidden People

More on the urban fantasy side than the horror side, this podcast follows Mackenna Thorne. It’s very self-aware and has a lot of fun bringing in other genre bits (the hacker, the funny guy, a fair amount of Buffy references I enjoy immensely). Mack’s parents are murdered, apparently by none other than Mackenna Thorne. As this mystery unfolds, a world to the hidden people (the unseelie court) is opened.

Mack has such an incredible character arc.

There is a demonic narrator who is constantly amused by everything the characters do wrong.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality

Let the AI Audio Tour Guide take you on a tour of the museum. Hear the stories - some horror, some soft, some strange, and some tragic - of the various exhibits. If your Audio Tour Guide is behaving... strangely, you should deposit your audio device in the nearest incinerator.

The Audio Tour Guide gets so much character development, and it is an utter delight.

Beware the man with a voice like honey and chocolate and coffee all at once.

Jar Of Rebuke

Dr. Jared Hel works at the Enclosure, which studies cryptids (for lack of a better word). Jared works there after having amnesia, and he only remembers the past two years. And always wears a key on a necklace. They have one skill that makes him very useful for studying cryptids: he can die and revive.

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part Ten)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Brief Mention of Stillbirth

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

With your head over the toilet bowl, you violently threw up everything that had settled in your stomach earlier. After a few minutes, you stood up weakly, leaning against the wall and sighed.

You really did not want Cillian to see you like this but, since you were staying at his and Danielle's house, hiding from him was not really an option.

Eventually, you retreated from the bathroom and your cheeks flushed crimson as you caught sight of him watching you intently, concern etched on his face.

Suddenly aware of your appearance, you quickly glanced downward, hoping to find some sort of cover—only to discover that you hadn’t changed since last night. 

"Are you okay?" Cillian persisted gently, stepping closer despite your attempts to remain distant. His voice held genuine worry, making it impossible for you to resist.

"Yes. I think I may have eaten something wrong last night," you responded, avoiding eye contact. Cillian studied your pale complexion with concern. Involuntarily, his hand reached out towards yours, brushing his fingers delicately over your arm.

"Do you want me to make you a tea?"

asked Cillian, offering a slight smile. His offer brought relief as you immediately realized the need for hydration. Despite feeling embarrassed, you hesitatingly nodded, grateful for his support.

Cillian swiftly prepared a hot cup of chamomile tea and handed it to you while Frank and your mother were in the guestroom, getting dressed for the day.

As you clutched the teacup, you gave him a small thankful smile. He returned the gesture with understanding, his eyes conveying sympathy.

Unable to contain his curiosity though as to whether there could be other reasons for your nausea though, he cautiously probed further.

"This might sound a bit weird, but you couldn't possibly be pregnant, right?" he whispered nervously your eyes shot wide in shock, almost knocking over the now empty cup in your hands.

"Pregnant?" you laughed scornfully, dismissing the idea. 

"Well, we had sex on numerous occasions, so I was just wondering whether, you know, it could be a possibility?" Cillian confessed sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"I am on the pill, Cillian," you chuckled faintly, but inside you felt uneasy. Your heart raced faster than usual. Could it be possible? Nah, it can't be true. You reminded yourself sternly. You forced a brave smile, determined not to let this change your mood today.

After hearing you confirm that you used birth control regularly, he appeared visibly relieved and quickly moved on to another topic.

Meanwhile, Danielle finally emerged from the bedroom, yawning widely as she stretched her arms above her head. Her tousled blonde hair fell over one shoulder and, just as she approached you both, Cillian instinctively turned his attention elsewhere, unable to meet her gaze directly.

Her face bore traces of fatigue but beneath those tired features lay simmering resentment, barely concealed by polite conversation. It was clear that she sensed the growing distance between herself and Cillian lately, and she desperately wanted answers. 

Unbeknownst to you and Cillian, the answers she sought were soon to be found - but they weren't going to be pleasant ones.

Later that day…

Hours later, Cillian and Danielle arrived back at their house in Dublin following their weekend trip to Cork with you, Sarah and Frank.

While Cillian spent some time playing with Max, Danielle unpacked their suitcase and hung-up their clothes in the bedroom. Upon hanging up Cillian's suit however, she noticed something unusual. There was something in his suit pocket.

Reaching inside to retrieve whatever it was, Danielle froze. Her heart skipped a beat, recognizing what she held in her trembling fingers—a small, delicate item. A black pair of lace underwear which clearly did not belong to her. 

Confused and deeply troubled, Danielle struggled to reconcile the discovery with her knowledge of her husband's whereabouts during their getaway. He had worn this suit at his aunt's funeral and Danielle began to wonder whether he had slipped out without telling her, engaging in an illicit encounter elsewhere. 

But with whom? Who could he possibly have slept with in Cork, and why would he leave such evidence lying around, virtually ensuring its discovery? Had he simply forgotten to remove them after his last dalliance?

These questions swam rapidly through Danielle's panicked mind, leaving her increasingly anxious and distraught. Involuntary tears filled her eyes, brimming with rage and hurt.

She felt betrayed beyond measure, and her husband's infidelity hit her hard this time after he had promised her so many times that he would stop cheating on her.

Suddenly, the walls surrounding their fragile connection appeared thin and vulnerable and everything fell apart in front of her very eyes.

Their marriage was built upon lies and deceits and she knew that a lot of this was her fault as she had pushed him away for so long. He had become like this because of her.

With that in mind, she clutched the lacy garment tightly in her hands, refusing to let go despite the pain throbbing through her knuckles.

She needed to know who he had been with while they were away and decided to confront her husband about it. 

Danielle stormed down the hallway, intent on seeking answers from Cillian. Unbeknownst to her, he had seen the change in her demeanor from afar and feared the worst.

She called him inside, gesturing him closer with sharp motions of her hand. Trepidation welled up in him, gnawing at his insides as he approached her. Standing before her, he steeled himself against the impending confrontation.

Her voice quivered with anger and hurt as she demanded, "Whose are these?"

She flung the lace undergarments at him, watching as they fluttered elegantly through the air before landing crumpled on the floor.

Fear constricting his chest, Cillian found himself speechless, unsure of how to respond.

Finally, he managed to squeak out, "That's none of your business."

"Don't lie to me, Cillian. Whose are those?" Danielle growled, pointing accusingly at the scattered undergarments on the ground. Frustration boiled beneath her skin, threatening to spill forth into violence.

Cillian hesitated momentarily, weighing his options carefully. He could either come clean about his affair or continue denying, further damaging his relationship with Danielle. With regret, he chose honesty.

"They belong to someone I slept with," he confessed solemnly, his gaze cast low.

"So you keep them as a fucking trophy?" Danielle spat venomously, her usually gentle features contorted in anger. 

Cillian winced at her harsh tone, shrinking under her fiery glare. He felt trapped, unable to find a suitable response. His mind raced wildly, desperately searching for a way to justify his actions – or perhaps escape them altogether.

"Who is she Cillian? Tell me!" Danielle yelled, frustrated by his evasiveness. 

"No one you know," he lied

weakly, stumbling over his words. His voice wavered uncertainly, failing to meet her seething gaze. "Please believe me, it means nothing..."

Danielle laughed incredulously, the sound sharp and mocking. "Oh please, spare me the bullshit," she snapped, regaining control of herself. "You think I'm stupid enough to fall for that? You slept with someone else while we were in Cork and I know everyone who came to the funeral, so fucking tell me already who she is!" Danielle demanded. Anger mixed with jealousy coursing through her veins, igniting her temper more than ever as, suddenly, she became aggressive and threatening, grabbing hold of his arm roughly.

"Stop, Danielle! You aren't well right now, and getting angry isn't going to solve our problems," Cillian attempted to reason with her, trying to calm her down before they escalated matters further as, it would not have been the first time that she became abusive. Her anger occasionally caused her to become violent and aggressive, which was yet another reason Cillian knew to stay, for Max's sake. 

Cillian's comment, however, only made her angrier and she turned towards him menacingly.

"Tell me who the fuck she is! Now!" Danielle shouted, her voice growing hoarse with fury and Cillian winced, his eyes widening fearfully.

She continued, raising her voice higher, "If you won't tell me, then I will make sure every person who knows us finds out about your indiscretions and the lies of our fucking marriage. Do you want that?" Her breath came faster and deeper, indicating she might be capable of carrying out her threat. 

"I can't remember her name. She was a waitress at the restaurant we went to following the funeral," he lied again, attempting to cover his tracks.

Despite his attempts at misdirection, Danielle refused to give up. "Then describe her," she ordered curtly, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. 

Caught off guard, Cillian hesitated, mentally scrambling for details. "She had dark brown hair, maybe shoulder length, and hazel eyes. She wore a uniform – a white blouse and a black skirt." He tried to recollect as much as possible, hoping it would satisfy her demands and, luckily for him, she nodded slowly, seemingly accepting his answer, though there was doubt lingering within her eyes and she decided to hang onto the lace underwear, just in case with a view to bring it to Sarah’s attention.

In recent days, Sarah had become close to Danielle and since Sarah was in Cork as well, with Cillian’s brother Frank and you, Danielle believed that, maybe, she came to notice something.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

[makethatelevenrings]

Angel By the Wing - Seventeen

Chapter Warnings: discussion of abortion (if ur not pro choice idc lmao fuck off!!), pregnancy

Series Masterlist

To your credit, you waited until the sun came up before you pulled yourself out of the catatonic state you found yourself in after the revelation of your predicament. You had never actually taken a shower the night before so you took the time now to stand under the hot water and let the stench of the bar wash off your skin.

Robotically, you dried yourself off with a towel that smelled of Jake and fucking hell, were you crying? Grabbing Bradley’s old UVA shirt, you tugged it over your head and threw on some clean underwear and soft athletic shorts. Turning in the mirror, you lifted the hem of the shirt and studied your stomach. Were you really pregnant? Or was this just some bloating? There wasn’t a bump, but you certainly noticed a small change.

As you shoveled Cheerios into your mouth, you pointedly ignored the waffle maker seated on the counter. This was pathetic. You needed to get a level head and compartmentalize. Make a to-do list. Figure out what the hell you needed to do. Didn’t you need to get your implant removed? Oh god, what if you were already fucking up your baby and you didn’t even know how old they were. You thought back on the numerous times you had slept with Jake and Bradley over the past month. Fuck, you didn’t even know the father.

You needed help. For once, you were going to concede defeat and admit that you didn’t know what the fuck to do. Sofia was out. She had less of an idea about babies than you did. Sarah…you couldn’t bother her right now. Not when she was dealing with grief.

But you did know a kick ass mother who would already be awake thanks to growing up in a military household.

Grabbing your phone, you dashed off a quick text to Penny and then put your bowl in the sink with the intention of cleaning it later. Your phone buzzed with an incoming text and you sighed in relief at her invite to come over.

Which found you fifteen minutes later, standing on her front porch, and blubbering like a baby the second she pushed open her screen door.

“Did you get a call?” she asked, panic tinging her voice.

“No, no.” You knew who she was referencing. “No news from them. I…”

Her eyes darted down, spying the way your hand unconsciously rested on your lower stomach, and she gasped. Penny stepped back, hands grasping your shoulders, and she took you in.

“Oh, honey,” Penny cooed. “Come on, you need to sit down.”

She led you to the back porch that faced the waves and you appreciated the opportunity to take in the morning sun and fresh air. Penny reappeared with a mug of coffee for her and peppermint tea for you and you gratefully accepted the ceramic mug that was shaped like a cat.

“Amelia’s still asleep. Teenagers. She’ll be dead to the world until ten,” Penny chuckled. “How do you feel?”

That wasn’t the question you were expecting, honestly. You were waiting for a “what were you thinking” or “how can you be so stupid” or maybe even a “let’s talk about your severance”. Not this. Not genuine concern.

“Physically or mentally?” you croaked out. The peppermint tea helped soothe the roiling ball of nerves and nausea that was consuming your stomach and you clasped the mug in your hands, embracing the warmth through your skin.

“Let’s start with physically.”

You blew out a heavy breath and then chuckled humorlessly. “Like I’m going to yak any second.”

Penny nodded, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she smiled at your words. “Yeah, morning sickness is a bitch.”

“And I’m tired all of the time. I thought I was just bloated, but I guess not. Holy shit, Pen, I’m so scared.”

Her hand landed on your knee and she offered you a gentle squeeze as a physical display that you weren’t alone. You gazed out at the pink sky and inhaled deeply before continuing to speak.

“I never thought about having kids. Or, at least, I thought about what I would do. There’s a Planned Parenthood within an hours drive from here. It would be quick, right? And then it would all be over. I don’t have the money to support a kid and I couldn’t possibly work at the bar and breastfeed. I would be a terrible mother and just fuck the kid up. I can’t…”

“Listen, I’m not telling you that you can’t get an abortion. Hell, I would be the one driving you there and back. You always have the choice to make that decision for you and your body. But I want you to know that you would be a damn good mom, honey. I’ve seen the way you interact with Amelia and Sarah has mentioned how much the grandkids love you.” Penny reached out and poked your shoulder. “You are not your mother, kid. Don’t let her scare you from giving a life to some kid who would be so fucking lucky to have you as a mom.”

You sniffled and blinked back more tears. “I don’t even know who the father is or if they’re even coming home.”

Penny reached up to wipe some of your tears away and she smiled sadly. “Hangman or Rooster, right? The two of them can barely take their eyes off you. You have them wrapped around your finger.”

“I didn’t plan on it!” The outcry sounded hilarious coming from your thick, tear-filled voice. “They’re just so…ugh!”

“Naval aviators,” Penny hummed. “I told you they’re trouble.”

You groaned and placed your mug down so you could cover your face with your hands. Penny chuckled and raised her own cup to her lips. Once you lowered your hands and stared back at the ocean did you continue to speak.

“I just want them home.” You hated how small your voice was. “I don’t understand why I feel this way. It’s all too much, too fast.”

“Is it? Or are you just scared of feeling safe?”

You blinked in surprise and stared at her. She merely sipped her coffee and leaned back in her chair. You considered her words for the moment. Jake was supposed to be just a way to get some energy out, but now you found yourself craving his presence as more than just a sex buddy. Bradley had been a one time thing and then his charming smile and laughter kept you wanting to be near him more. But that wasn’t love. Or at least, you figured it wasn’t love in comparison to the cheesy romance films and books you’ve consumed.

But thinking about them and the possibility of them not coming home and then thinking about the possibility that you might be holding a piece of one of them inside of you made you come to a tentative decision for now.

“I should call my doctor and ask if I can make an appointment to get my implant removed,” you finally said. “And then I’m going to wait until they get back. Not because I want them to choose because that’s my choice, but because I want them to know.”

“Okay. Call them and stay for the day. We can go to the beach or go shopping. Whatever you choose, hon, Amelia and I are here for you no matter what.”

The doctor had an opening at one so you spent the morning watching reality shows with Penny until Amelia woke up and then the three of you headed over to the area where your OBGYN was located. Penny and Amelia would stick around and shop at a few local boutiques while you got your implant removed and also did a blood test and urine sample to confirm.

When you walked out of the office an hour later with a stack of papers and pamphlets in hand and a compression bandage wrapped around your bicep, there was no denying it. You were four weeks pregnant.

“Holy shit!” Amelia exclaimed when you held up the paper to her and Penny. Her mom didn’t even bother to correct her and instead took the results from you and studied them. She nodded and jerked her head in the direction of the car.

“Well, time to get you some vitamins and a few other things that will help.”

The Benjamin women offered to let you sleep over that night, but you missed the soft pillows and smell of Jake in his apartment. For a moment, you regretted wearing Bradley’s shirt out today but it also felt a bit like a protective barrier between you and the world. Even without a noticeable bump, you still felt as if everyone in the world could tell just by one look at you.

So you curled up on the couch at Jake’s with all the pamphlets about your options now and plans for the future. The TV played in a low drone as you thumbed through the various piles of information like prenatal vitamins, what you can and can’t eat, and the changes your body would go through. As you read more, you became more and more uncertain. Could you do this? Should you do this?

You glanced up at the TV and a small smile fluttered across your lips at the sight of what was playing on screen. Titanic. You remembered the night on the couch, sandwiched between your boys as this movie played. The love story turned heartbreak stung at your chest and you found yourself reaching for the remote when your phone rang. Diverting your grasp, you saw it was an unknown number but decided to answer, figuring it might be a telemarketer you could fuck with.

“Angel?” the voice on the other line asked. Your breath caught in your lungs and you nearly burst into a sob right then and there.

“Tex?” What if this was just some cruel prank?

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s me. I’m just calling to let you know that we’re okay.”

You bit your lip and released a shaky breath. “All of you?”

Jake laughed over the line. “Here, let me prove it.” Shuffling came over the line and then a new voice spoke.

“Hey, angel,” Bradley exhaled your nickname as if he was evoking a prayer. A brilliant smile spread across your face and you relaxed against the cushions.

“Hi, bear. You sound tired.”

“Yeah, well, Hangman snores.” An indignant cry sounded from behind Bradley and you laughed. They were fine. They were safe.

“You’re all okay?”

“Every last one of us. We’re coming home, angel. I can’t tell you exactly when but we’ll be back soon.”

You glanced at the scattered pages of information spread around you and then settled your hand on your stomach. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Of course, Angel. We’ll see you soon.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Tag List: @mizzzpink​ @xoxabs88xox​ @dreaminglandsworld​ @khaylin27​ @loveforaugust​ @phoenixssugarbaby​ @atarmychick007​ @mak-32​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @krismdavis​ @emma8895eb​ @startrekfangirl​

[gazsluckyhat]

Phantom Pains

Intro - Sun Bleached

You can thank Hozier for the inspiration for this one. That and everyone talking about cowboy Ghost. This is gonna be a lighter story apposed to Sarah's House. Some sad elements and smut. I hope you enjoy!

-bunny

Simon knew he'd messed up. The fire he'd started burning down everything and he didn't stay to pick up the pieces. Now, years later he's back. The place he'd called home for so long the only safe place he could think of, the family inside broken and burned. He think's it might be too late to fix.

or

You can always come back home

The house looked exactly how it did when he was eighteen. The paint had faded and the once red shutters had been sun bleached. But the red door looked the same. The fence around the property had been updated and the mailbox replaced. But it felt the same. He felt the same. The nervousness and fear sitting heavy in his broad chest. She might not even let him in. Might not even be home.

"Are 'ya gonna even knock, LT?" Johnny pipes up behind him and knocks him out of his funk, hands unclenching. He nods and raps at the door, the sound echoing in his ears. He can hear barking and wonders if it's Apple, even though she'd be ancient by now. It's only a few minutes before he hears her. Her voice matured now, telling the animal to hush. The southern drawl still evident in her voice. He can hear her unlocking the door and then pulling it open.

"Yeah?" She freezes when she sees him. Confusion in her blue eyes. Ghost can't breath, eyes stuck on her face. Fifteen years and she looks the same. Wide and bright blue eyes he used to get lost in, chubby cheeks he loved to pinch, and the same mouth he used to kiss. He can tell when she realzes who he is. Her eyes studying him for a second before she straightens up and speaks.

"Simon?" God he missed how she'd say his name. He nods, finally gaining the ability to speak.

"Peach." Her cheeks flame and that’s when she sees the men behind him.

"What're ya' doin' here Simon?" Her eyes are hard, something unreadable on her face.

"Need yor' help Peach." She shakes her head.

"Ya' know my names Cecilia." He feels that pang in his chest again. "And how can I help ya'll?" She's eyeing Johnny, the mischievous air about him. Ghost clears his throat.

"We're in some trouble, need a safe place." Her eyes narrow.

"Safe place? And you think this is some boarding house, do ya'? I'm s'posed to just welcome you back in like nothing ever happened?" This time it's his cheeks that flame under his baklava. The shame creeping up his bones.

"Pea-" She cuts him off.

"Cecilia, Simon. You've lost the right." She glowering at him.

"Please Cece, I know I've fucked up. Just let us in and we'll explain." Her eyes go to Price, clocking him as the leader.

"You, care to explain?" Her hand on her hip, she crooks her finger at him. "Inside, just you." Price shuffles past him and she slams the door shut in Ghost's face. Johnny slaps his shoulder and laughs.

"D'know what ya' did, Lt, but she seems pissed." Ghost pushes him and sit on the stairs, same ones he built all those years ago.

 He doesn't know how long they sat out there just waiting, but he was up the second the door cracked open. It was Price who stood before them, a small smile on his face.

"You got a smart girl Simon." The hes nodding into the open house. "C'mon."

The entry way was the same as well, the mat was new but the same table, key bowl, and pictures lined it. They found her in the kitchen, mixing a pitcher of sweet tea. It too was the same, the whole house was. At her feet was Apple, grey taking over most of the brown fur now. Another, slightly bigger dog was rushing over, tail wagging. Cecilia turned, clicking her tongue.

"Kiwi, off." The dog ran back to her feet, Apple getting up and making her way to Ghost. Knelling he petted her.

"Hey old girl." She nudged her head into his stomach. "Still so sweet huh?"

"Last year, she got into it with a cotote." Cecilia set the mixing spoon in the sink and put the pitcher in the fridge. "Came out on top, but lost a whole lotta blood. Didn't think she was gonna make it."

"Looks the same now, still a fighter." He placed a clothed kiss to the dogs head and stood up. She walked towards them, opening the backdoor so Kiwi could run out, Apple following behind.

"Got Kiwi to heard since Apple's getting' older. Damn dog is a pain." She leans agaisnt the counter and crosses her arms. "Ya'll can stay but I got rules, Simon you already know 'em." Ghost nods, her father's voice clear in his head even after so long.

"One, don't gotta pay rent but you will work for you board. Everyone pulls their weight 'round here. Two, clean up after yourself. I ain't your mama and I'm not cleaning up after ya'. Three, no funny business. Don't be bring girls or guy in here and fooling 'round. My mama will have a fit." At the mention of her mama Ghost perks up.

"Liz is here?" He ask cautiously. His heart warming up at the older lady. Cece nods.

"Still in her and daddy's room. She's sleeping now, today's been a rough one." Ghost nods, planning to ask her what happened later. "We get up at five. Gotta feed the animals, I make breakfast every mornin'. With ya'll here I'll have it ready by seven. Lunch at twelve. Dinner is every night at six, but Fridays. Those are rodeo nights. 'Member those Simon?" She has that twinkle in her eye. Ghost chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.

"Mmhm. Course. Still gotta couple scars." She chuckles.

"Ya'll lookin' at one of the best bull riders this town's seen in years." They at gawk at him, Johnny perking up and opening his big mouth.

"Like ridin' Lt?" Kyle laughs, cheeks darkening. "Fall a lot?"

"Should've seen him. Could get a bull calm in seconds, held on longer than half the boys raised here."

"'Nough bout me." He can't stand the attention. Cece laughs and nods towards the back half of the farmhouse.

"Room's still the same. Simon, we fixed up the out building after you left. Daddy swearing you'd come back. There's enough room for all four of ya'll." She opened the door to the sun room, finer pointing to the building he'd made his home. "Added heat and all. Even fixed up the bathroom. Bed's might not be the best but we can fix it later on."

"Same key?" She nods, fisting the same old key into his open palm.

"Still gotta jiggle it. And I've got some of daddy's things ya'll can have. Captain said this was all last minute so we'll work on getting the other stuff."

"When'd he pass?" Ghost notices the way she looks away.

"Two winters after ya' left. Got sick and couldn't shake it. Mama ain't been the same since. He swore that'd you'd be back. Said you'd realize this was you're home. Just had to sort yourself out first." She holds his stare, the pain clear in her eyes.

"Peach, I'm.."

"Soap? Mowhawk right?" Price nods. "Come help me get the boxes outta the attic. Simon go show 'em the place." Then she's walking off, Soap following behind her. Leaving Ghost to think about what he'd done.

[sleepyheadgallavich]

Weekly Tag Wednesday!

tagged by @heymacy @iansw0rld and @transsexual-dandelions thank you lovies! 🫶🏼🖤

Name: Sarah

Eye color: hazel

Time zone: PST

Favorite food: Ooooh bitch right now, crab. I'm a slut for some crab

Do you have curly, wavy, or straight hair?: curly/wavy and thick as fuck.

Coffee or tea?: both, depends on my mood. recently i have been on a black tea with milk and sugar kick for a few months lmao

you can only listen to one album for the rest of your life. which album is it?

oh fuck off with this question. but Take Me Back To Eden by Sleep Token

how many countries have you visited? have yet to leave my country. sadge

favorite social media platform (other than tumblr): currently TikTok yikes

if you had to be reincarnated as an animal, what animal would you want to be?: an otter, i love them so much and my husband calls me otter. ew! (sappy)

Relationship status: married to my dumb high school sweetheart, gross. lol

did you go to college if so, what did you study?: no my dumb ass got married at 20 and popped out a kid and another less than two years after that, rip (i swear i love my husband and kids lmfao)

you’ve just made a letterboxd account. what are your top 4 films?

Steel Magnolias, The Green Mile, Matilda, The Lost Boys.

What’s one of your pet peeves?: one? hearing people chew. i have issues with some noises they just grate the fuck out of me. but also like hello??? please shut your cake hole

What’s one of your guilty pleasures?: im literally blanking on this one oops

and finally, if you could learn any skill, what skill would you want to learn?: how not to be so godamn nervous all the fuckin time

tags below the cut

@mickittotheman @mickeym4ndy @whatthebodygraspsnot @callivich @especially-fuk-u

@heymrspatel @krysmiss @onthepyre @gardenerian @crossmydna

@astaraels @thirstyvampyr @st4rrymick3y

if you want to otherwise here is a flower. 🌻 love you byeeeeeee!🫶🏼🖤

[languagelvlup]

A lot of people who start learning a language will say "oh, I understand more than I speak." I also fell into this trap, but now I'm not so sure about it. Shouldn't our speaking and listening abilities both draw from the same body of language knowledge in our brains?

Sure there might be a word that you can recognize but wouldn't be able to come up with on your own…but for me it was more like

"I finally managed to score a new job! I couldn't have done it without the help of my supervisor Sarah. It's gonna be challenging, but fun. I'm looking forward to it!"

I understood the key words and thought "Wow I never could have said all of that, but I understood the conversation!"

But actually, maybe I COULD have said "New job! Sarah helped me. It's challenging but fun!"

All this to say…if you think "my listening is better than my speaking, I need to practice speaking", then consider that maybe what you actually need to do is build your vocabulary and gain a better understanding of more grammar. This is 100% the case for me.

If you do not have the tools to speak at the level you want, you will not gain these tools by speaking more. Words you don't know are not going to suddenly appear in your head. You've gotta learn them in movies or dramas or anime or books or comics or social media posts (or flashcards if that's your cup of tea). And THEN you will be better the next time you try speaking.

TL;DR In most cases, input (listening/reading/studying) in your target language will help your speaking more than "speaking practice" will.

[loudsnapdragon]

-- okay, so i've never posted a wip before, but i've been staring at this word doc for three hours and really want to send some of it out into the world without much explanation, so have a wip wednesday without warning. from a robin buckley character study, it's some angsty stobin post-starcourt --

Later, ash and dust settled on the burnt-out shell of the mall, cover-ups plastered all over the newspapers selling slower than the ultra-fast gossip that spreads in the smallest of smalltown suburbia, and her wrist still sore from signing like, a million NDAs, somehow the worst injury she sustained, she returns to her favorite debilitating coping mechanism. She hides.

Her parents are blissfully unaware of the truth, spending the summer digging out the lawn and working on a too-late vegetable patch, picking out weedy carrots and raising them up high so she can admire them from her bedroom window, waiting until she responds with a shaky thumbs up before they chuck them into a wicker basket. She shuffles back under her sheets without showering or brushing her hair. She stays there for seven days.

Her mom drops off mugs of tea, organic chamomile and lavender, kissing her forehead, checking in. Tells her Sarah from band called. Robin won’t remember to call her back. Her parents haven’t given her time limit on the freak out, but they’re expecting it to end soon. Her mom tells her a bedtime story of some folk festival in Nebraska going alight with her dotty friend’s forgotten cigarette. The patchwork tents in flames just another funny anecdote from their previous childless nomad lives. I get it sweetie, it’s scary, mom says, fussing with her hair, dragging the longest strand down her back, clearly reminiscing to the time when Robin was uneducated on The Runaways, before she gained an affinity for cutting her hair short with her dad’s razorblades.

I’m so glad you’re okay. Take all the time you need.

And Robin nods, because she is okay, in the grand scheme of universe shattering things. Her mom hugs her, and like always, she forgets to hug back at first, the motion only kicking in after smelling the arnica medicine rubbed onto her mom’s elbows. The sensory trigger doing the trick. But arnica doesn’t scent her dreams, it’s just sickly-sweet ice cream and tepid water from the nasty mall fountain and the strawberry cleaning chemicals they used to pour down the cinema toilets and oh, Steve’s blood. The dark red drip scabbing at the edge of his mouth, the rancid iron she could smell from even three feet away.

The next day, she finally leaves the house. Takes her bike and cycles adrift through Loch Nora. Like, it has to be one of these rich bitch houses, it has to be. But she doesn’t see a Beamer, even if she did, she probably wouldn’t recognise it, and she doesn’t find a handy mailbox with orange neon light details blaring: STEVE IS HERE.

She does find Carol Perkins, popping gum as she lazily waters her family’s front lawn, the sprinklers broke with the last big power outage, and she says her mom is going to be pissed if the grass is anything less than lime green. She wouldn’t normally talk to Robin this much, but eh, privileges of being a victim of the supposed Starcourt electrical fire must win her some short-lived perks, cos when she asks which direction is it to Steve’s (cos even if they’re not friends since the dingus’s dramatic high school dethroning, Carol always knows what's up) Carol doesn’t even try to be mean, she just pushes her gum to the inside of her cheek, and says that Steve doesn’t live in this neighbourhood. His place is on Elm Street, largest house there, you can’t miss it.

She cycles faster than before, hunting down a desperate unidentifiable need. Knocks on his door as soon as she sees it, sudden dread filling her with the thought that it could be the asshole dad to open, but no, she exhales, it’s just Steve. He smiles, scratches his nose. He didn’t expect her visit, he tells her, needless information considering his current outfit, a pit-stained basketball tee, plaid pyjama pants, and a single greying sock. 

We should do something.

Cool. Sure. Um. Let me get my keys.

He gets changed into jeans and a clean polo first, thankfully, but it’s only a few minutes later that they’re sitting in the Beamer with her bike stashed in the back. He asks her where she wants to go, and her brain empties of all articulate thoughts. In the quiet that follows, peppered with the tinkling of his keys as he fidgets with them in his left hand, she’s flooded with everything she’s tried so hard to not think about.

There’s blood, loads of it. The elevator floor falling beneath her feet. Vomit landing in the water of the toilet bowl. Monsters, real life monsters, squelching with human guts dragging over the mall’s star-patterned tiles. But that’s just the background noise, the slow bass line to the screaming chorus. He knows, not everything, but he knows. She looked it up in her copy of that dumb D.A.R.E. pamphlet, Ketamine can take up to fourteen days to leave the body. It can make you inexplicably happy and numb to external disturbers. It can warp your reactions. Make bad things appear good. And Steve, someone real, knows.

Slowly, so slowly she doesn’t realise it until his big man thumb is digging into her palm. And oh, look at that, they’re holding hands again.

It’s going to be okay. It’ll get easier, I freaked out so bad the first time, but like, you get used to it.

It’s not just that. She admits, but, um, thanks. Thank you.

What’s up?

You really don’t care? She waits, sees his slanted not-so dumb eyes blink as he tries to understand. About me?

Oh. Yeah. No. No. I don’t care. Like, bummed I got rejected by another pretty girl, sure, but also, well… we’re alive? Aren’t we?

He squeezes her hand, and once again, she gets it. Why all the other pretty girls used to fall for him. Fuck. If only she could be normal. But it’s enough. She looks down at her scuffed sneakers, Sharpie-ed Patti Smith lyrics on the rubber dropping into the footwell as the soles peel around her toes. She knows where they need to go.

Cool. Let’s go shopping.

Nice. He snorts like a boy. Releases her hand to turn the ignition. Fuck yeah, let’s go shopping.

Shopping for designer-clad Steve usually involves a short road trip to Muncie, so she takes a little thrill by squashing that plan, suggesting the thrift with a cheapskate smirk instead. And ah, of course naïve ex-rich boy Steve didn’t even know Hawkins had a Salvation Army, so she has to direct him as he drives. Ah, to be an oblivious member of the upper middle class, ignorant of all the grimy places she considers local landmarks.

Do your parents know? Steve asks from the driver’s seat.

They’re not talking about Russians under Starcourt. But also, they are. The ambiguity frees up a little breath caught in her throat. She's not scared to tell her parents, but she's not ready. Maybe never will be.

No way. Yours?

Nah.

He opens the store’s door for her when they get there, waving her in, like they’re on a date, which makes her laugh, which makes him grin. She can tell he’s putting it on a bit, his general snooty disdain for everything inside, comically put-upon disgust when picking up a pair of grubby cowboy boots from the shelves, which do, to be fair, smell like horseshit, but come on Steve, they’re real cowboy boots, they’re going to have stepped on some horseshit in their previous life.

Eddie Munson is in the corner of the store, picking through the jewellery display before diving headfirst into a box of cassettes. Not an uncommon sight in these parts, but she steers Steve away from that section, not yet sure if she can trust him yet to resist acting cold around the super-senior freak, like he used to when Eddie stumbled into Scoops to buy a butterscotch waffle cone.

Mrs Mulgrew by the cash register never smiles, but she seems quietly tickled by the smartly dressed boy Robin’s dragged in, and she waves them over, showing off a recent donation of genuine silver teaspoons. Robin tries a joke about stealing them to sell on the illicit teaspoon black market, which makes Steve roll his eyes, gently bumping Mrs Mulgrew shoulders, like: God, I can’t take her anywhere. And Mrs Mulgrew’s icy composure cracks, her crinkly wrinkled lips itching at the sides into an almost-smile.

She buys some old black work boots and two oversized man’s shirts, and Steve clearly, really, really doesn’t understand why out of all things, those are her purchases, but he doesn’t say anything. Both of them still figuring out how much they can push the line. The snide remarks stilling on their tongues when the obvious need for something kind is binding them together.

She kicks off her old Converse in the car before they drive home. Shoves on the new boots and wiggles her toes under the steel caps. Counts out the last few dimes left remaining in her wallet and curses under her breath.

We need new jobs.

Yeah, duh. Steve says, and Robin smiles, because they’re finding their line. She grabs at his hand.

We are going to find gainful employment. She swings their hands into the air, like it’s a joke, and he laughs too, but they are a we, now, and she might never let go of this hand ever again.

[loneberry]

After I finished making a midterm exam, Molly and I went to a secret Japanese tea house. It appears on no map, has no hours, no sign. It is as though it exists, somehow, outside this world. When you enter, you give your phone to the owner to lock in a box for the duration of your visit.

We stayed for nearly 6 hours—sat reading poems, chatting with the eccentric owner about Sufism and the ocean and his peculiar flower arrangements consisting of a mix of living and dead plant matter.

How can I describe it, the strange sensation of being alive, late at night in those dim lights, surrounded by beauty. I got up to look at the wares, inhaled the hinoki essential oil—Max Richter was playing as I stared at blank notecards and imagined writing someone a heartfelt note, writing bravely, from that bewitched and emotionally authentic space I was in. I felt a sudden pang. It was the moment opening, with all its counterfactuals, what could have been, what will never be—how deeply I could feel, in that instant, the texture of my grief.

When I’m in the hustle and bustle of my busy and now quite ordinary life, I think, if only I could really hear the voice that says,

“Jackie, it was not for this that you were created.”

Then I would give away all my things and spend my days in prayer.

Susan Howe writes that for Sarah Edwards, “all works of God are a kind of language or voice to instruct us in things pertaining to calling and confusion.”

“...each soul comes upon the call of God in his word. I read words but don’t hear God in them.”

Did I pray, how long in supplication, with my inner eye fixed on that phantom, the phantom with her eyes stitched shut, limbs covered in oak moss. A dream of the opening of the eyes, the inert limbs now lithe and moving toward you. Ordinary objects and sounds are suddenly strange. That’s when the phantom slips through, when I hear the birds singing in a tree...

The blooming moment. Retrospectively, I am convinced that its condition of possibility was the confiscation of my phone, that it is only when we are unplugged that we can sense these holy emanations.

How calm we were, leafing through the book of Japanese death poems (jisei) in the tea house. What will be the last words I write before dying? For all I know, it could be this, or this. I remembered the dying words of George Mackay Brown: “I see hundreds and hundreds of ships sailing out of the harbour.” I remember the fragments Kafka wrote while dying, “lemonade everything was infinite,” his concern for the peony, the improvised performance—the incantation—I did at the Zinc Bar in 2015 using Kafka’s dying words, how J wept in the audience, then wrote me about the snow:

I am the guy, by the way, who said hi on the street, in the snow, after your reading. … I did indeed cry after your Kafka-Cixous incantation, partly because that phrase has been magic to me my whole life. I read Cixous' novel by that name when I studied with her and Derrida in my twenties... Her seminars were amazing. One day, funnily enough, she gave a seminar on snow in Proust, simply because snow was on the ground in Paris. For all sorts of reasons your whole reading shook and tenderised me deeply. I suppose, with the snow through the tinted glass outside, it will forever be, my imagination of what you read will forever be blanche niege texte.

(standing on the corner in manhattan with that powdery snow i was looking at the flowers when you walked past actually, turned, swivelled, i had needed to get out of the bar because the reading had touched me so much . . . i then went and wandered in the snow for an hour, till i happened on a subway, and back to my friend's in brooklyn . . . i have been thinking more today about how effective your reading was to me. it sort of made me feel i could only read poetry from now on if i was embodied, since what convinced in your reading beyond the obvious was the adjustments to us, the audience, the interruptions, the ability to break off, and then the actual concentration because of the embodiments . . . at most poetry readings i am constantly thinking 'i am at a poetry reading' and can't really get beyond the poem-as-poem-at-reading. when you read i was suddenly completely focused. the bodily resonation was right, a recuperation of grace, so i could listen. like before the internet or something. it returned me all the way to early cixous and feminine writing and what that could still mean, a writing beyond master-works and over-sociality of tact, agua viva, what korine might call 'mistakist' heaven. it was my first time in new york. my last night. stop. for now. cut the flowers.)