#it's so gross and it's struggling bc it needs a new filter and to be cleanex | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yoditorian · 3 years

Text

a law divine - 1

soulmate au!ezra/reader

this is solely the fault of one single anon who called out something i put in the tags and now it’s a whole universe but you know what?? it’s the love of my life. anon i hope u see this 💛 i also just want to say i know there isn’t A Lot of soulmate talk in this one but it’s important for the narrative okay bear with me

playlist // series masterlist // main masterlist

word count: 7.2k (a Big Boy)

warnings: swearing, my usual allusions to smut bc we keep things neutral in this house, brief food/alcohol mentions, 18+ please no babies

It might be the ugliest ship you’ve ever seen.

Not that you’re really one to judge, the one you charter out when you’re running point on a job is a mismatched patchwork of rusty panels held together with electrical tape and hope. If there’s the slightest possibility you might be a teeny tiny bit disappointed in it, it’s only because agency jobs are usually a little cushier. A little safer for once. You could do with a bit safer.

Your family might prefer a lot safer, but you’d sooner take your chances in open space without a suit than take a job working scrapyards. At least risking your life on digs gets a decent payout.

“You the danger mouse?”

It’s not an accent you hear often on the Pug, the majority of the station’s population is human, but you turn with a smile to meet the bright purple eyes of the Thanne. Armour-strong scales and sharp teeth, but he seems kind and mild mannered despite his clear predatory biology. You nod as you readjust the pack on your shoulders.

“I’m Iras.” He holds his hand out to you. A distinctly human gesture made a little awkward by the sharp edged scales and extra fingers, but you shake it nonetheless. He’s your captain for this job after all. You wonder where a Thanne became so well versed in human custom, the species as a whole tend to keep to themselves instead of branching out into the universe like so many others, until his crew members appear on the boarding ramp.

Iras gestures to each of them in turn. Summer, a blonde woman with dark skin and a kind smile, and Milo, an older man with a swirling tattoo above his left eyebrow that matches the navy blue of his eyes.

“Is it just us?” You ask. You could have sworn there was a fifth name on the manifest you’d been forwarded, but teams are always subject to change. You just hope you’ll have your own room.

“Ezra always leaves things down to the wire, he’ll show up right before we’re due to push out.” Summer laughs fondly, throwing an arm around your shoulders like she’s known you her whole life. You’re usually a little wary with brand new teams but the way she’s already chatting away makes you feel at home. The last agency job you were sent on got dicey, fast, somehow you’re sure the same won’t happen with this lot.

“There he is.” Milo leans out of the ship to point out into the docks.

You turn to see a man sauntering through the throngs of harvesters towards the ship, and it’s odd. The rest of the crowd seems to melt away as he closes the distance, even the weight of Summer’s arm on your shoulders feels not quite there. You take the moment to study him. He looks all business with his dark hair and his charcoal grey shirt and the neat pack slung over his shoulder, but his pants and boots have seen better days and the streak of blonde at his temple makes you smile. It’s nice to finally be with a crew without a single stuffy addition.

“It’s not often I get to congregate with like-minded souls.” He grins when he’s in earshot, a flash of something feline in his eyes. You don’t want to admit that you like it.

“Like-minded?” You tilt your head at him as you follow Summer up the ramp and into the ship. Ezra slips in behind you just as it starts to raise. Just like the others said.

“We’ve all got the same death wish, Sunspot.”

The launch, at least, is smooth despite the beaten up ship and it’s only about twenty minutes before you’re far enough from the Pug to punch a lane to the next system over. At least it isn’t far, there’s only a day between now and making planetfall. Somehow, you’re not surprised to find that it’s more of a barracks and bunk beds situation rather than each having a private quarters. Last time you were hired by the agency, you definitely got your own room. But it gives you a chance to chat with the others as you unpack.

Milo explains the air isn’t breathable, so he’ll need to double check to make sure everyone’s filters are running at capacity. But he reassures you that it’s a comfortable temperature, so it’s good to know you won’t be sweltering in your suits or freezing your asses off.

You pick the bed on the wall beside the door, taking out a few essentials from your pack and tucking the rest safely away in the storage compartment. Just as he did back at the docks, Ezra is the last to find his way to the room. He settles his things on the bunk opposite yours because the universe has it out for you, apparently.

“Did I hear one of them call you the danger mouse?”

You struggle not to roll your eyes at the nickname awarded to anyone stupid enough to do your job, although admittedly he doesn’t sound like he knows why. You offer him your name instead and pretend the way he rolls it around in his mouth doesn’t send a shock right down to your bones. You’re not in the habit of sleeping with colleagues, not until the job’s over at least. But you’d be lying if you said you’re not tempted.

“They call me in when a site’s unstable but too profitable to close.” You answer, tugging your sleeves up as the climate control settles to a comfortable temperature.

Ezra raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue, and you pull off your gloves. They land on your thin mattress as you hold your hands out between you. Not even the slightest twitch.

“Steadiest hands on the Pug.”

“So they are.” There’s a challenge in his voice that threatens to send a shiver up your spine. It’s clear he doesn’t doubt your skill in the field, but the return of that glint in his eye from the docks has you wondering exactly what else he’s thinking about as he studies your hands. It’s not hard to work out.

It’s been so long since you had to travel out of the system, you forgot how much inter-system lanes can fuck with the human brain. You’re half asleep for the thirty minutes you spend sorting your things for the morning, barely enough energy to change into the sweatpants and ratty t-shirt you call pyjamas, before you crawl into bed and settle down almost immediately.

Only you don’t get to sleep for as long as you’d like. The rest of the crew seem to have filtered in after you, the shift of sheets and snores float through the dimmed room. Except, it’s not just that. There’s shuffling and bed creaking from further down the line of bunks. A hushed giggle sounds in the silence and-

Oh god. Oh no.

They’re not. They can’t be, they- they are.

You’re very awake all of a sudden, eyes wide as you keep them firmly on the ceiling and wishing as hard as you can for an alarm to start beeping or something. Anything to get whoever’s banging Summer to stop. A deep voice hushes her when she laughs again. Iras. Knowing is somehow worse. The mechanics- you don’t even want to think about it.

You turn onto your side slowly, but loud enough to hint that maybe they should find somewhere else for their escapades, and fold your pillow around your head as a kind of makeshift set of earmuffs. Whether they’ve quieted down or it muffles the noise, you’re not sure, but it seems to have worked enough. You catch Ezra’s eye in the almost-darkness, much in the same position as he holds his pillow over his own ears.

It’s embarrassing for the both of you, even as you share a conspiratorial look. But somehow, it’s less awkward to have to hear Iras and Summer going at it when you know he’s awake. He winces when a particularly loud squeak echoes through the room, and it takes everything in you not to bust out laughing. You fall asleep again eventually, making faces at Ezra in the dark until neither of you can keep your eyes open anymore.

You’re surprisingly well rested come the morning, when the whole ship jolts as it punches into the system and you’re almost thrown out of bed. So much so that it’s easy to forget that you woke up at all until you shuffle into the main living compartment of the ship. One of the crates by the wall has been cracked open, Milo hands out granola bars for breakfast.

Summer and Iras are sitting in the same chair, feeding each other, and it might be cute if you’d been awake longer and hadn’t been woken up by their activities in the middle of the night. You slump into a free chair, face twisted in disgust for a moment. You’re pretty sure nobody else sees until Ezra laughs and drops into the seat beside you. They’re nice people, from how they took you as a friend immediately, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s just a bit much for your perpetually single heart to take.

“It’s a week-long job, they can’t take a break?” You watch as they finally pry themselves apart to start, you know, actually working. But not without a genuinely gross kiss that definitely toes the line of public decency. Suddenly the half-eaten bar in your hand isn’t all that appealing anymore.

“Soulmates take no breaks, Sunspot. I’m sure yours would be hard pressed to be anywhere but in bed with you whenever they get the chance.” Ezra winks and it takes you a moment to remember where you are. A glance at the pair makes your new knowledge obvious, the way they seem to be touching, even now, on opposite sides of the room.

“I’m not sure I believe in all that red string stuff.”

Once the ship is safely landed a short walk from the site, the days you spend digging pass with ease. The deposit is a decent size, it takes all five of you to cover it completely, and the payout should be enough to keep you all comfortable for a little while even with the agency’s cut. The crew around you fill the time enough that you barely notice the week coming to a close.

Summer sings in the mornings as she cleans her equipment and readies her pack for the day. Miles talks gently to the cells as though they can hear him, shushing them any time he worries a gem might corrupt. Iras seems to have a secret superpower when it comes to the ration packs, they always taste better when he’s the one on lunch duty. And Ezra spends the afternoons regaling you all with tales of ancient beasts, laying eggs that fossilise into the very gems you’re harvesting. Although you’re not sure how true they are.

You almost get through the whole dig without a hitch. Almost. But aurelac is a tricky thing, even a change in the wind can turn a site for the worst. You’re all sitting around at lunch when it happens. The telltale smoke wafts up into the air for no visible reason at all and although you’ve collected enough to cover the quota, you’d still rather not lose viable gems.

“Get to what you came here for.” Iras gestures in your direction and you dive into the pit head first.

You’re not even sure you stop to think as you follow the harvesting steps at lightning speed, salvaging half the corrupted cells before someone tugs you out by the collar of your suit. The rest of the site starts to smoke the moment you’re out of range, spitting and hissing and rendering the rest of the gems worthless.

“Danger mouse indeed.” Ezra chuckles over the comm system, hand still fisted in the fabric of your suit. For once, the nickname makes you smile.

While you all go your separate ways after the ship has docked back on the Pug, Summer makes you all promise to meet later at a club you’ve only heard of in your friends’ messy night out stories. Still, you pinky swear when she holds her hand out to you and try to remember if you have a single item in your wardrobe that’ll pass as club attire. Or at least something that isn’t so worn there are holes in it.

Even if it’s a song he knows, there’s no chance that Ezra could recognise it with the volume cranked so high through the cheap speaker that everything but the beat is distorted. Still, it doesn’t stop people from dancing.

He’s a little late, as usual, but he doesn’t need to worry as Iras appears behind him and claps a hand on his shoulder, pointing to a booth across the room where Milo is looking increasingly uncomfortable.

It doesn’t take long for Ezra to spot you and Summer in the middle of the dance floor, as he follows Iras around the edge of the space to the booth Milo’s claimed. You’re both more jumping than dancing, yelling the unintelligible lyrics of the song into each other's faces. He can’t hear your breathless laughter as Summer spins you in a circle, smile wide and bright, but he can feel it in his ribs. The drums of the song kick in at the same time the swirling lights of the club light you up like some kind of celestial being, just as you catch his eye through the crowd. And everyone else disappears. The rest of the world, rest of the universe, fades into the background. Just like they did the first time he saw you, glaring suspiciously at the ship on the docks.

Summer’s dragging you back to the table when the song comes to a close, the both of you out of breath and laughing, and Ezra has to try desperately to remember how to speak when he watches a little bead of sweat slide down the side of your neck. And stop himself from just licking a line straight up it. His silent suffering only increases when Milo holds out a shot of the most potent alcohol the Pug has to offer and you down it without so much as a flinch, winking at him when you return the glass to the table for good measure.

Milo calls it a night only an hour later, clearly only having braved the crowds of the club to celebrate the job. Summer and Iras are tangled in each other on the dancefloor, or the booth, as they keep the shots coming. You, at least, decide to keep your wits about you, declining every drink after the one Milo had handed you. Nobody’s going to fuck with a Thanne, even in as seedy a club as this, so you don’t worry about Summer as she gets sloppier and sloppier. But there’s no spiky non-human boyfriend looking out for you down here, it’s just you and the knife you keep at your hip.

You pull yourself from the dance floor, eyes tracking the room for the missing member of your party, until you feel a set of eyes on you from above. Ezra’s leaning on the bannister of the stairs, his unflinching gaze set solely on you. And you can’t help but smile. You follow him up to the mezzanine without hesitation when he glances upwards and back to you. The buzz of the shot has mostly faded from your veins, replaced by something much more dangerous by the way he’s looking at you. The way he’s looked at you since you met him.

It’s not hard to spot your friends from up here, leaning over the barrier with Ezra to people watch. He crafts stories about every stranger who catches his eye. The man hunched over the bar in a beaten up jacket, the waitress who fiddles with her necklace any time her hands aren’t occupied, the pair of lovers tucked away in the dark corner on the other side of the mezzanine. You find yourself sliding closer to him the more he talks, wrapped up in the warmth of his voice even in the rundown club. Your shoulder knocks into his as you mindlessly bop to the music and listen to his made up stories. Utterly enchanted. It’s hard to remember a time when you felt this way with anybody, if you ever did at all. To tell the truth, it’s hard to remember anyone before Ezra. And neither of you have even made a move yet.

He's got his arms braced on the barrier, and you find yourself lifting the one closest to you so you can slip in between them. Surrounded on all sides and you couldn’t feel more comfortable. To his credit, he doesn’t falter in his vivid storytelling about the group now settled in the booth your crew had claimed earlier, not even a stutter as you turn in his arms to face him. He’s decided they’re here to celebrate the beginning of a new job, rather than a successful harvest. His eyes flick to you for the barest moment, enough to notice yours are firmly focused on the way his lips move around his words, before searching the club below for another story. Another way to keep his mind and mouth occupied so he doesn’t accidentally admit all the sinful things he wants to do to you when you press your ass up against him like that.

“Ezra.”

He shouldn’t be able to hear you over the music, but you’re nose to nose and he’d be hard pressed to ignore the way you practically purr his name. He’s expecting you to make another flirty comment in that voice that sends his mind reeling into all manner of indecent places the same way you have been all night.

“Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t expect you to just outright ask him.

“Yeah.” Yeah. Hell of a time for his eloquence to fail, not that it matters anyway. You’re on him the moment he stops speaking.

It’s like the sun explodes inside him, the way his stomach bottoms out the second your lips touch his. There’s nothing soft about it, not the way he might have imagined there would be. If he’d been so bold as to let himself imagine what kissing you might be like. You’re all warmth and heat and you still taste a little bit like the shot you’d thrown back earlier, and he finds himself falling. Not that Ezra minds, he hopes his parachute never opens if it means you’ll keep kissing him like this.

You let your fingers roam under his jacket, twist themselves in the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and you sigh into his mouth. God, you knew he’d be good at this. His hands leave a trail of starlight as they trace over your body, never quite choosing a place to rest. They start to settle on your shoulders, only to skim down your arms and squeeze harshly on your waist, to play along the strip of skin he finds just underneath the hem of your shirt, to grip harder than he might mean to onto the meat of your ass through your pants. You gasp, break the kiss for barely a moment, and stop his apology in its tracks.

He doesn’t protest when you walk him backwards, still groping at each other like it’s just the two of you in the whole club. Ezra only groans when his back hits the wall and you push even closer into him, as if there was even any space left for air between your bodies already. He’s not about to complain. He could kiss you for a thousand years and it still wouldn’t be enough. It’’ll never be enough, not for a soul as hungry as his. You pull back too soon, far too soon, and it takes a solid minute for his brain to kick in and break the vice grip he still has a little too low for the public eye.

Oh, that look on your face. He’s in trouble.

“Where are you off to?” Ezra asks, flushed and breathless, a hand stretched halfway out to where you’re backing toward the stairs.

“Home,” You say with a sly smile, “You coming?”

He can’t push off the wall fast enough.

You don’t live far from the club, a ten minute walk at the most, but Ezra manages to make it a solid twenty with the way he keeps pulling you to him. Not that you’re about to complain. You’ve been waiting a week to let him get his hands on you. At the press of his lips on your neck, the shudder it sends down your spine, you wonder if part of you has been waiting even longer than that.

You’re trying, desperately, to type in the keycode to your apartment. If Ezra could calm down with the grabby hands, you might have gotten it right straight away.

“No roommates?” He asks, kissing along your shoulder, and you take the temporary reprieve to kick your brain into gear and remember the fucking numbers.

“Hugo won’t be too upset if I make him sleep on the couch.”

The door slides back into the wall to reveal a dark apartment, a strip of light from the hall falling on a very orange cat. He stares at you for a second, clearly not particularly pleased that he’s been so rudely roused from a nap, before he settles back to sleep stretched out on the couch cushions. Hugo. Ezra is silently relieved that the roommate is just a cat, he’s not sure he’s got the self control to stay quiet tonight. Or to make sure you do.

You waste no time once you gesture for Ezra to walk in ahead of you, flicking the switch on the wall to slide the door shut and pulling him back to your lips. He doesn’t hesitate to crowd you up against the cold metal.

Although you could devour each other until the closest sun explodes and swallows the station whole, Ezra has to break away. To think, to breathe, to tease you a little about the moan he just swallowed from you. But you beat him to it.

“Gotta catch your breath?” The smile on your face threatens to make his knees buckle, and with you pressed up against the closed door the way you are? He might just let them.

“What do you want, Sunspot?”

You left a lamp on in your bedroom, the door cracked just enough to let a little filter through to the main living space. Still, he’s almost completely silhouetted against the warm yellow glow. As if he’s some kind of ethereal being, maybe he is.

“Make me see the stars.” You pull him in as close as you can and let your lips brush over his as you whisper. His next words make you shudder almost as much as the way he drags the zipper of your jacket down, slowly, tooth by tooth.

“As you wish.”

And boy, does he deliver.

You’re expecting things to feel more unfamiliar than they do, as you explore each other for the first time, but it’s like you’ve been here before. Once, twice, a hundred times before. Every move feels oddly choreographed. Ezra knows exactly how to take you apart and put you back together again, the way he pulls every twitch and moan out of you so expertly. You’re no different, as your fingers map the plains of his chest like it’s muscle memory.

You shake it off, put the thoughts to the back of your mind. You’ve been around the block a little in your time on the Pug, it only makes sense that he has the same kind of experience. But shared experience or not, you can’t deny how much having him so close feels like a homecoming of sorts.

It’s the best sleep of your whole fucking life and, honestly, you’re not that surprised. Ezra makes a damn good pillow. Even if you both wake hours later into the day cycle than either of you normally would. Even if he’s more of a morning person than you are. It’s kind of nice, to sit still snuggled in your pile of blankets and watch him potter around your apartment as Hugo winds around his ankles like he’s been there for years.

Your fridge, however, is heartbreakingly empty and renders his offer of making breakfast pointless. Instead, he pulls his shirt on and offers to take you to the best little diner he knows, tucked away in the heart of the marketplace. It’s a hard offer to turn down.

“What kind of gentleman would I be to have so much income at my disposal and not treat such a beauty as yourself to a good meal?” He winks as he flashes his credit chit at you as if you didn’t scan in for your paychecks at the same time. You laugh as you empty a food pouch into Hugo’s bowl, and tell him he better show you all the good breakfast spots. You shrug off his raised eyebrow and mutters of a ‘next time’. As if he didn’t already know.

Still, Ezra takes you by the hand the moment your apartment door secures itself shut behind you, leading you through the hall and out into the street, and you’ve never felt more wanted.

It’s like everything’s brighter, walking leisurely through the bustling market stalls with Ezra. The smells are stronger as spices in the air cling to your nose, the cacophony of vendors calling out almost sounds like music, and you start to laugh. Hand in his, in the middle of the maze of stalls full of food and tools and trinkets. As if it’s just the two of you in the whole universe.

At least Ezra doesn’t look back at you like you’re crazy. He smiles too, just as big, and you feel bathed in warmth the same as when the sun comes out planetside.

You’re both still grinning when he leads you deeper through the market, down an alley and up a flight of stairs to an unassuming door.

“Is this where you murder me?” You joke just as the door opens to reveal a short older woman with an eyepatch, who pulls Ezra down into a tight hug as soon as he’s in arms reach. He introduces her as Merse, the woman who’s run the best diner no one’s ever heard of on the whole station. She slaps his arm for his cheek, but her grin grows twice as wide when she spots your intertwined hands.

Ezra pulls you through the doorway after him as he follows Merse, chatting about how she always keeps the best table open just in case he brings a friend and you try not to smile too wide when she wiggles her eyebrows at you. He says something to you, but you’re too distracted by the view from the big windows.

The far wall is completely glass, overlooking the main docks, lined with booths. A small family sits in one of them, their two children standing up on the seats to watch the ships come and go. You’ve never seen it from this angle before, always down in the masses and scanning the boards for new jobs. It’s kind of beautiful. In a rusty, patchwork sort of way.

Merse points you towards one of the booths with a promise that she’ll bring you the best breakfast you’ll ever have, something tells you she’s not lying.

It’s not long after you slide into the booth that she comes marching out of the kitchen with two plates, wafting steam that makes your mouth water and your stomach rumble. Rice and vegetables and eggs and all sorts of things you’ve never even seen pile high, and you’d worry you wouldn’t be able to finish it all if you weren’t so hungry.

“You know I won’t break, right?” You push your fork around in the remaining rice on your plate as you watch Ezra absorb your words. He thinks about it for a long moment, dark eyes over you before settling on your own.

“What’s this about?” He knows, you know he knows. More importantly, you know he’s going to make you say it. In the middle of the day cycle, in this family friendly diner.

“Just,” You exhale sharply, “Making sure you’re aware.” Your body floods with a shyness that’s alien compared to the confidence you had last night and suddenly, your breakfast is the most interesting thing on the Pug. You can practically feel him smiling at you, but you don’t dare look up to meet it.

He was right though, the food really is some of the best you’ve ever had.

It’s not until you’ve wandered back through the market, still hand in hand, and found your way back to your apartment that Ezra decides to bring it up. He may have been more than a little distracted last night, but he’s sure he spotted a set of old books sitting on a shelf above your couch. You freeze, ready to go on the defensive about how ink and paper will never be obsolete, until you realise he’s genuinely interested. He’s not judging you by any means. Something about the curiosity shining in his eyes makes your heart flutter more than you care to admit.

He could watch you talk about your books all day, every day, for the rest of his life. How your eyes lit up when you recognised his interest, a paperback lover himself. You can’t seem to stop yourself as you dive into the intricate details of your favourite classics, two or three hundred year old texts that make you feel like you’ve lived a thousand different lives at once. He wants so badly for you to keep talking but the more impassioned you become, the more he wants to kiss you.

You trail off at some point, he loses track when you climb into his lap to point out notes you’ve made in margins and the books lie scattered on the couch beside you as you kiss him until neither of you can breathe. You’re still a little achy from last night, deep in your bones, and you hiss when his teeth scrape across your shoulder.

“Won’t break, is that right?” Ezra chuckles darkly and nips at your jaw, “Can I try?”

“Please.”

You wake at the creak of your bedroom door, sometime in the early hours. Hugo noses his way through the narrow gap and hops up onto the bed, curling up on the unclaimed pillow by your head. Ezra sleeps deeply, face buried in your neck, and you let the warmth of him wash over you. It ebbs and flows like a tide, that familiarity. The undeniable fact that something about this just feels right. You’ve known this man a week and yet you’re here wondering, as he rests in your arms, if he might want more than just this with you.

Oh, but you are so afraid. Afraid to put a name to anything about him because what then? Will he tell you that you’re simply a placeholder in his life for something better, or that his heart might bleed through his skin when you’re apart? You’re not sure which is worse. Not that it matters, there is no word in any language that would be able to explain exactly how you feel about the man asleep in your arms. It’s enough, you think, to have him with you at all. In any capacity. Whatever pieces of his soul he bares as your breathing evens and his mind wanders. That is enough, and you will protect it with your life.

You have to part ways at some point, of course. Another week of rolling around in your bed sheets together, on the couch, on your pitiful kitchen counter, up against the wall, and Ezra gets a call from the agency. It’s a last minute job, the crew only need an extra set of hands to fit the safety standards, but it’s several systems out from the Pug. It’ll take him away for at least a month. You trail after him at the docks, with promises of messages in his absence and all manner of unsavoury activities on his return. It’s with a deep kiss and a wolf whistle from a couple of dock workers on their break, that you wish him luck. And ask him to hurry back.

Summer’s message surprises you when it dings through on your tablet. Some gajillionaire on Dallore T53 has found an aurelac deposit on the grounds of his new estate and wants it gone. She’s preoccupied, already out on another dig with Iras and a new crew. But it’s the kindness of her even thinking to offer it to you that makes your heart swell. It’s been a while since you’ve had real, honest to god, friends.

You’d go in alone, normally, for something like this. But now? Now, you’re punching in Ezra’s comm pin before you can even really register what it is that you’re doing. He only got back a week ago, and you made him settle in back home before he could settle in yours. It’s not like the two of you would be doing any resting on his return to your apartment, exactly. The job was a pain, he’d told you, it ran months longer than anyone expected and you’re sure he’s still exhausted. He won’t agree, but you find you have to ask. Just in case.

“Sunspot?” He sounds happy, rested. And you breathe a sigh of relief, at least he can follow your orders when he wants to.

Hugo snakes around your ankles at the familiar voice, the same way he does any time the man himself walks through the door. If you didn’t know that the little orange devil’s alliances lie in who feeds him, you might think he loves him more than you.

You explain about the job, make sure to stress that he doesn’t have to come. That you don’t even really need to take it if he’d rather you stay close by. Okay, you don’t say that out loud, but the smile you hear in his words through the speaker makes it known that he’s heard you. Loud and clear.

It doesn’t matter in the end, not when he accepts before you even have a chance to give him any details. You don’t know why you were so worried he might say no.

“Any excuse to be warmed by your light, Sunspot.” Hugo brushes up against your leg at the same time Ezra’s voice practically drips through the speaker, smooth as honey.

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Do you want it to be?”

You choke on your breath and he laughs like you’ve told the funniest joke in the universe. He’ll kill you one of these days, you’re sure of it.

You charter the ship you usually take on private jobs, the space a little smaller than you remember with another person on board, but it’s not like either of you aren’t used to being in close quarters with each other by now. At least Ezra has the decency not to be mean about the beaten up exterior, she still flies true. He’d grinned at that, told you how a rough outside often means the opposite of the interior mechanics. The glint in his eye is enough to know he’s not just talking about the ship.

At least the planet is in the same system as the Pug, so there’s no need to punch through to a lane. You fly in silence for a few hours, the familiar feel of the controls under your fingers as you guide it through the sky. Ezra’s eyes remain firmly on you although you pretend as though you don’t notice, and it takes him a moment to come back to the present when you ask him to flick a few switches and prepare to enter the atmosphere.

The coordinates the client gave you to land are only a short walk from the house itself, a great stone castle-looking thing. It’s kind of ugly, the way the limestone juts out above the treeline. A big white block among the rich reds and oranges of the leaves. They grow that colour all year round, perpetually stuck in spring and summer. It must be nice to have the kind of money to find somewhere like that and decide you’ll build a house there. The air is breathable, and a quick look at the planet file proves it’s never too hot or too cold. A perfect place to build a house really. Although, if it were you making that kind of decision, you’d maybe go for a design that’s a little less cubist.

The deposit isn’t huge, but it’ll be a good payout nonetheless providing the cells are all in good nick. You and Ezra wade through swathes of long grass and wildflowers until you find a spot to set up camp. At least you’re not stuck in bulky suits and having to lug around your equipment.

You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect dig if you’d tried. Each of the cells sit far enough away from each other that even if one were to fail, it wouldn’t corrupt a whole mess of the others. Although with both of your talents, it doesn’t surprise you when you collect every last crystal without a single misstep.

You’d told Ezra the profit would be split down the middle, equal pay for equal work. But it doesn’t stop him from sliding an extra gem into your pack to cover the ship charter. After all, you’re the one who was offered the job in the first place. He’s just following his heart, the one that walks around outside of his body and throws itself into deposits mid-corruption.

You hold one of the little gems aloft in the sunlight and watch as it sparkles.

“I used to think it was weird how rabid people go for these. But the more I dig the more I get it, isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

Ezra tilts his head like he’s studying the rock, but his dark eyes don’t leave yours.

“It’s a close second.”

Sap.

Night falls before either of you realise just how late it is, clearing out the last few cells of the deposit. It’s not worth going back to the Pug now, he reasons, and you find it hard to disagree. The ache of the few days you’ve spent digging has settled deep in your muscles, the thought of having to run through docking procedure when you’re so tired is enough to make you wince.

You let him take you for all you’re worth under the watchful eye of the heavens, and find there’s more stars behind your eyelids than you could ever hope to see in the skies. It’s all you can do to cry out the name of the only god to ever make you feel this holy. Ezra.

He wakes with the sun, the same way he always has on jobs, to find you curled so tightly against him that it bubbles up from his toes all the way to his throat and he finds his eyes threatening to spill over. Everything in the universe seems to slot so perfectly together when you’re like this. Ezra sighs, content to never let the moment end. You are so beautiful.

He shifts up onto his elbow a little, still cradling you against him, and lets his free hand trail softly over your face. Tracing the shell of your ear, the curve of your cheekbone, the bridge of your nose. The dawn’s sunlight breaks over the trees and filters through the fabric of the tent, bathing you in soft green light. He could stay here, holding you, until the universe implodes. Ezra doubts he’d notice such an insignificant thing with you beside him.

But end it must, and he rouses you gently with soft whispers and kisses against your temple. You stretch in his arms, not unlike Hugo, and sigh as your joints pop and settle. Packing up happens slowly, moving around each other so naturally it’s as though you’ve done it a thousand times before. Every time Ezra passes, you drop a kiss wherever you can reach. His shoulder, the arm of his jacket, that little patch on his jaw. He pretends not to blush when you catch his hand and carefully press your lips to the little tattoo between his thumb and index finger, you pretend not to notice when he does.

You’ll be the death of him, he’s sure of it. The way you keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, the way your smile is so bright when he catches you that he can barely stand to look at it. With the tent and equipment packed up, his fingers itch to thread through your own as you start the walk back to the ship, there’s not a word in the universe strong enough to describe just how much he hates that both his and your hands are too full.

It’s odd, thinking about it. How you met by pure chance, hired by the agency just because you were on the same station at the same time. Would he have ever met you if you’d chosen a different career path, if he had? Maybe somewhere, centuries before or after this moment, where you’re meeting again. Different lives, different times, spanning across all of existence. Maybe, right here and now, you’re starting to feel the way he does about you. Just a little. Maybe he’ll get up the courage to ask what you think, how far you want to take things. He’d give himself to you in a heartbeat, without question. In a way, he already has.

Ezra can’t stop himself.

“What do you make of the red string of fate?”

“All you’ve seen of the universe and you still believe in soulmates?”

“Maybe I’m more foolish that I made myself out to be.” He shrugs, trying not to let his eyes fall to the little finger of his right hand. Trying not to clench his fist to show you exactly how much your disbelief affects him down to his bones, as though his soul itself is frowning. You’re smiling. Uncharacteristically quiet, but you seem appropriately pleased by his answer and stray a little further out into the long grass.

Curiosity gets the better of you.

“Can you see yours?” You have to call out across the gap you’ve unintentionally created, yellow stalks swishing in the breeze between you, and for a moment you’re not sure he heard.

Ezra looks at his right hand, at the thin red string tied neatly at the knuckle of his little finger, and follows the line as it threads through the grass to where it’s knotted at your left.

“No.”

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@bee-dameron @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @gotta-have-faye @freeshavocadoooo @darnitdraco @greeneyedblondie44 @fire-is-catching-always

#oh god here it is i hope it lives up to what i've made it out to be #a law divine #prospect (2019)#ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra x you #liz does words #soulmate au #smut

119 notes · View notes

thoughtfullyyoungduck · 3 years

Text

Schooling

A/N: hi anon! From what you’re requesting it’s pretty obvious that you’re struggling a grave bit with schooling and as someone who has been there (literally, I changed my major five times), I want to assure you that everything always falls into place the way it should be. I believe in you!

Also, as i was posting this I remembered that I don’t know how schooling works in the USA so I just wrote it from a Belgian perspective.

Summary: could u do a richie x reader where reader wants to be a musician but their parents are forcing them into sum hard uni course, but the readers getting awful grades and then accidentally applies to a random easy program instead of the hard one and freaks out tht her future ruined, so richie convinces the reader she doesn’t need to worry bc she’ll be a famous musician instead

High school was not a thriving environment for you. You had your friends, the losers club, who you adored and couldn’t imagine your life without, but you were also bullied relentlessly, and you weren’t fond of the studying part of the school dynamic. No one is, supposedly, but compared to Stan and Ben – both possessing the motivation and drive to put it in the effort, and Richie and Mike who were effortlessly smart, you felt lost.

The idea of college was the only thing holding you up, the only motivation to get through your high school years. That musical course you planned on taking was a bright light at the end of the tunnel. In hindsight’s, you accumulated way too much pressure on yourself for imagining college to be this amazing place where you would get to thrive in life. The reality was a lot more grim.

The first problems arose in choosing your major. Your friends had all zoned in on one – or were getting close to at least-, but you were clueless about what the right thing to do was. There were worlds apart between what you thought would truly bring you joy in life, and what your parents were manipulating you into choosing.

Your parents, at least when you’re younger, have the biggest influence on your view on the world and the way you see yourself fit in it. When your parents pushed you towards a biology degree, and kept at it for months, you agreed.

From day one, you knew it had been a mistake. You shared a few classes with Stan, and those all went over fine -because you had a friend around that you needed to stay strong for-, but the moment you had your first class, a deep feeling of dread settled inside you. Despite not enjoying high school like some might, at that moment you hoped for a miracle to turn back time.

Tests passed by in a flurry, and as each one got progressively worse, your mental health followed suit. You were caught in a visions cycle of bad grades and bad emotions, and it drained you so bad that anything that could potentially have anything to do with school, like emails, send you into a frenzy.

The inevitable happens on a Wednesday after school. You wasted a lot of time thinking of what could be, and winded up at the school that organized the musical course. On the home page of the sight, there had been a test titled: ‘is our schooling up your lane?’, and you, snorting with irony, took it to be coy. They asked a bunch of personal questions, and you didn’t think anything of it, until you received and email to state that you had started your admission to the school. The month long building tension snapped, and you started crying hysterically. You weren’t sure what you had done and if it was even anything to worry about, but everything got to be too much, and you wanted your best friend with you.

Richie arrived a mere ten minutes after your phone call, and let himself in to your bedroom where you were still crying on the bed. Thank god your parents weren’t home.

‘What’s up with you?’ Richie asked incredibly, sinking down on his back next to you on the bed. You appreciated the lack of fake sympathy and pity.

‘Same old,’ was the only thing you could come up with to say. You didn’t know if you had the energy to rehash everything again.

‘Your schooling again?’

‘It’s my schooling everyday Richie. It’s important.’

‘Is it as important as hanging out with me?’ It coaxes a laugh out of you, but the lighthearted moment is quickly squashed. You can’t shut off your kind and live in the moment. With everything you do, the reality slams on you, never allowing you to have a break.

‘Yes Richie. I know that school doesn’t matter to you, but it does to me. My parents will kill me if they find out I applied to this course. Help me.’

Your leg begins to bounce, a sign that your anxiety is taking over completely. Richie can recognize the signs, as he himself displays them often.

‘Calm down y/n, you’ll just follow the music program and became a musician. I’ll pay you to be my support act, and all of the losers will come to watch us. It’ll be fine.’

‘For you maybe, but my parents will kill me when they find out.’ It’s true. Before you enrolled in biology, you had already hinted at maybe following a music path, and your mom had shut it down faster then you could even finish your sentence.

Richie snorts. ‘Your parents are mad at you all the time. Who cares, in a few years you’ll be out of there and you won’t have to listen to them ever.’

‘But-‘

‘Y/N/N, come on’, Richie interrupts cheerfully. He throws one of his legs atop your to stop your leg from moving. ‘You’re stressing over nothing. If you can tell Bowers to fuck if you can do anything.’

‘Well Bowers was nothing, he’s just pathetic. This’, you empathizes ,‘is my future Richie.’ You sigh, completely disheartened. Your pc screen is lit up, and you notice a new email pop up from your new school. You can’t take it, why can’t you have a few moments to collect your thoughts?

‘What if I’m not good enough?’ You ask him quietly, sagging against Richie for support. It’s now that your true stress comes out. Your parents views are a problem, but if you were truly convinced that you could do it, you would go against their wishes anyway. ‘What if I do this, and I have to hear about how disrespectful I am for years, and it doesn’t pay off?’

Cruelly, Richie laughs. That’s weird. Richie is never fully serious, he always has a way to alter a situation into something cheerful, but he’ll never be intentionally rude.

‘Please? Not being good enough? You’re the best musician I’ve ever seen and heard.’

‘We live in Derry, that’s not saying much.’

‘I mean it. My second favorite thing is listening to you with your instrument, my favorite is still fucking Eddie’s mom though.’ A mom joke while you were debating over your major was not something you were aiming for, but hey, it’s Richie. Are you really surprised?

‘What do I do if I fail?’

‘You won’t. But if you do, you can always do that one year school thing right? You have the rest of your life to do the adult thing, why not choose your happiness now?’

It’s profound in a way Richie isn’t often -and in a way that people don’t credit him enough-. He has a hard time being serious, but you know that once he is, he always tells the truth. Maybe this time, he is too.

‘You truly believe that?’

‘It’s as true as my wang is long.’

‘Gross’, you protest, but his words light a fire under u. It gives you a whole new wave of confidence, a way to see things from a different perspective. Why wouldn’t you go for it and take the chance? Why should you be stuck doing something you take no pride or joy in. Your parents will be a problem, but this is not the life they have to life. They have made their own decisions, and now it’s time for you to take yours. Are you willing to do something for the rest of your life simply for your parents approval?

Another email filters in, one to confirm your decision to enroll in the new major. Richie intertwines your hands, offering up more strength to do what you have to. With one last encouraging smile, you nod to yourself, and press accept.

#richie tozier #My writing #richie x reader #richie Tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #x reader #it imagines #the losers x reader #the losers club x reader #the losers club imagines

57 notes · View notes

dirtycreekwater · 5 years

Text

Three Hours Behind, Five Hours Ahead

description: Logan Roman and Virgil are in a long distance relationship and trying their best to deal with that. having separation anxiety, Virgil struggles the most.

genre: fluff & hurt/comfort. human au.

word count: 1,109

ship: romantic analogince

warnings: some implied nsfw stuff. not graphic at all. don’t think theres anything else but hey lemme know if you need something tagged

a/n: this isn’t really gonna be a chaptered series?? i don’t really know what it’s gonna be tbh but it’s something. also Remus might be a minor background character at some point so remrom/incest shippers please do not interact thank you

——

Sunlight was slowly starting to filter into the room; not that Virgil had even noticed. His eyes were glued to his phone screen, the blue light emanating from it putting a strain on his eyes. He was sure they were bloodshot, having stayed up all night staring at said screen in the total darkness. He could hear his boyfriends’ voices scolding him already.

As if on cue a quiet ping brought his attention to the top of his screen. It was Logan, his Logan, in the group chat he and his boyfriends had created when they first met online. He already knew exactly what that nerd had said. He didn’t even have to read the preview.

Logan 🐝🖤 6:04am

Why are you on tumblr at 6 in the morning, Virgil?

Surprised he took this long to message me, Virgil thought.

Virgil 6:05am

bc i love torturing myself apparently idk

Logan 🐝🖤 6:05am

Please stop doing this to yourself, love.

Virgil 6:07am

but babe i need the memes

Logan 🐝🖤 6:08am

What you need is sleep. Try to now, please?

Roman 👑❤️ 6:08am

Ugh Virge wtf go to sleep 🙄

Virgil couldn’t help but smile at that. Roman cared in his own way, he was quite different from Logan. And Virgil himself was pretty different as well. They were certainly a strange trio, but it worked so well.

Virgil 6:10am

i don’t wanna sleep

Virgil 6:10am

also shut up Ro you should be asleep rn too it’s 3am for you

Logan 🐝🖤 6:11am

Why don’t you want to sleep? And yes I agree. Go to sleep, Ro.

Roman ❤️👑 6:12am

Aw but guys I don’t wanna either :(

Virgil 6:13am

sleeping alone sucks

Virgil 6:13am

i miss you guys

Roman 👑❤️ 6:13am

Same 😭

Logan 🐝🖤 6:15am

Oh, loves. I miss you both too.

Roman 👑❤️ 6:15am

😭😭💔💔

Logan 🐝🖤 6:16am

But you can’t keep doing this to yourselves.

Virgil 6:17am

you cant stop me

Logan 🐝🖤 6:17am

Virgil, please.

Virgil bit his lip, maybe a bit too hard, and set his phone down. He hadn’t realized he started crying until his vision completely blurred. He felt silly really, crying just because he was alone. He wasn’t really. He had his boyfriends, he did. He had group chats, and facetime, and other video calls, and tumblr blogs. He had them. It just didn’t feel like enough. He recalled the first time they all met in person. They stayed in Roman’s house in Los Angeles, California. Logan flew in from London, England and he himself flew in from his small Pennsylvania town. It was truly the best week of his life. Roman had a huge bed, too big for just one person. It was perfect for all three of them, and god he felt so lucky. He remembered the way Logan’s Quasi-British accent sounded in person, and the way Roman’s boisterous voice seemed to fill an entire room. He especially remembered the way Roman’s sheets, and their skin felt against his own; the way their hands tangled in his hair, and lips moved over his. All he wanted was that week back.

Logan 🐝🖤 6:22am

Virgil? Roman?

Virgil took in a shaky breath, and picked his phone back up. He was just going to let himself be vulnerable, completely honest. He could do that.

Virgil 6:23am

i just hate being long distance so fucking much,, i can’t handle it,,, i just wanna be held again,,,

The next five minutes were the most nerve wracking minutes in Virgil’s whole life. Okay, maybe less nerve wracking than the time he waited for their responses to his crush confession. That was quite horrifying, but honestly this felt pretty similar. Like swallowing knives. The typing bubble had disappeared, and reappeared many times. He almost wanted to turn his phone off, and never turn it back on again.

Then finally a message appeared.

Logan 🐝🖤 6:28am

We’re not going to be long distance forever, my love. I promised you both that a while ago did I not? And I always keep promises, yes? Come on, it’s been two years. You should know that by now. Don’t lose sleep over this. Everything will be okay soon, very soon.

Virgil almost hated how good Logan was at comforting him, and Roman. He was always saying emotions were gross, and they just weren’t his thing, but yet somehow he always seemed to handle them perfectly.

Virgil 6:30am

damn it L how dare you make me cry more

Roman 👑❤️ 6:31am

How dare you make me cry as well!

Logan 🐝🖤 6:32am

My intention was only to reassure, and comfort. I apologize.

Virgil 6:33am

yeah well you did exactly that you stupid nerd

Virgil 6:34am

but um can we start facetiming more often? like at night? hearing your voices and seeing your faces really does help me sleep

Roman 👑❤️ 6:35am

Yes!!!

Logan 🐝🖤 6:36am

Well, being a few hours ahead of the both of you makes that quite difficult, sweetheart. I’m sure we can work something out though.

Virgil 6:37am

man fuck timezones

Virgil 6:38am

im gonna fight time

Logan 🐝🖤 6:38am

Maybe do that after you sleep.

Virgil 6:39am

no right now

Virgil 6:39am

im gonna do it

Roman 👑❤️ 6:40am

I’ll help 🗡🛡

Virgil 6:40am

sick 🔪💣

Logan 🐝🖤 6:41am

No fighting the abstract concept of time. Sleep now. Both of you.

Roman 👑❤️ 6:42am

But Looooooo

Virgil 6:42 am

Logan 🐝🖤 6:42am

No. Sleep.

“God, we’re dorks,” Virgil said aloud to himself. He then took a deep breath to calm himself before he typed out a new message. “Quit being a little bitch, Virgil.”

Virgil 6:43am

ok but can we facetime first? pls?

Roman 👑❤️ 6:44am

Yeah!!! You free rn Lo?

Logan 🐝🖤 6:44am

I’m always free for my loves.

Virgil 6:44am

thats gay

Logan 🐝🖤 6:45am

Excellent observation skills, Virgil. You never fail to impress me.

Virgil 6:45am

shut up

Logan 🐝🖤 6:45am

Why don’t you make me?

Virgil started to respond but the facetime screen, and obnoxious ringtone cut him off. Of course Roman would purposefully interrupt his and Logan’s bickering. Logan always did the same to them. Rolling his eyes he hesitantly accepted the call, and rolled over onto his side so he could hold his phone more comfortably. He broke out into a wide grin once he saw his beautiful boyfriends smirking back at him.

“Hey, guys.”

——

tag list: @royallyroman @crazyfangirls-stuff @easy-meta-knight @shyanonarchives

#sanders sides #analogince #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #long distance au #three hours behind five hours ahead #thbfha #olisfics

112 notes · View notes

nolimitsongrace · 4 years

Video

youtube

February 4: Flee Fornication!

Flee Fornication!February 4, 2020

Flee fornication…. — 1 Corinthians 6:18

In the early years of our marriage, my wife Denise and I pastored an adult singles ministry, and one of my responsibilities in this role was to regularly meet with people who needed counseling. During one session, a distraught young man began to pour out his heart to me about how he kept habitually falling into sexual sin. As he sat before me, I could see that he was disappointed in himself, spiritually broken, and feeling like a miserable failure. With tears streaming down his face, he told me, “Before I know what is happening, I find myself in the middle of a sexual sin. I just can’t seem to control myself.”

I asked him, “Where are you when this sin usually takes place?”

He told me, “It usually happens at my house or at my girlfriend’s house.”

*[If you started reading this from your email, begin reading here.]

I looked into his eyes and asked, “Don’t you think it would be wise for the two of you never to be alone together at your house or her house so you don’t put yourself in a position where it’s easy for you to fall into sin? If that’s the place where you keep falling into sin, I strongly recommend that you don’t spend time alone in her house or yours!”

He responded, “Are you suggesting that I run away from my problem and my weaknesses? No way! I am not going to run away from my weaknesses! I intend to prove that I can overcome these temptations. I don’t believe I need to change my environment. I just need to be stronger!”

As the years passed, I watched this man continue to struggle with sin. His plan wasn’t working! He was sincere, but the approach he was taking was not wise. Not only was he not conquering his temptations, but he was being conquered by them! It was time for him to use his brain to get up and get out of those places where he had habitually fallen into sin. He needed to heed the words of the apostle Paul to the Corinthian believers when Paul urged them to “flee fornication…” (1 Corinthians 6:18). If this man would have just obeyed the wise counsel of the Word, he could have escaped those years of misery, feeling like a spiritual failure.

“Fleeing fornication” would have been very hard to do in a city like Corinth! Corinth was known for its perversion and twisted sinful activities, as well as for its drunkenness. In short, it had a worldwide reputation for being a “party city” and a center for “sexual freedom,” where one could avail himself to the vilest of human instincts without any fear of others’ disapproval. The entire city was devoted to the sex industry; therefore, any kind of sex was considered acceptable and fair. Some have speculated that after Sodom and Gomorrah, Corinth may have been one of the most perverted cities in human history.

The city had a constant flow of sailors who came to town to party, and this fed the prostitution business — the largest source of revenue in the city of Corinth. Furthermore, the city abounded with idolatry, which frequently incorporated sexually immoral behavior into their rituals, and the Corinthian bathhouses brimmed with homosexual activity.

In addition to all these excesses, wine was integrally tied into nearly every aspect of the city’s culture. It was used in idol worship as a sacrament and a tool to commune with the spirit realm; it was commonly imbibed by prostitutes and their customers; and it was readily available in the city’s bathhouses to loosen people’s inhibitions so they would more readily participate in homosexual activities. Basically, all these factors combined meant the alcohol business in Corinth was booming! So not only was Corinth rife with idolatry and all manners of gross sexual perversion, but the city also struggled with serious alcohol abuse and addiction.

In fact, the city of Corinth became so synonymous with perversion and drunkenness that the term “to Corinthianize,” first coined by the Greek author Aristophanes (450-385 BC), became a common term used in other cities of the Roman Empire to describe drunken or immoral debauchery.1 Regardless of where you lived, if you knew a person who was given to excess and drunkenness, that person was referred to as “a Corinthianizer.” Corinth’s reputation was so stained that if an actor in any city of the Roman Empire was required to play the role of a drunkard on stage, he was always depicted as a drunk Corinthian.

This was the environment the Corinthian believers faced every day, and because they were so new in their faith, the lure of the world and the flesh still had a strong hold on them. Paul knew they needed to use their minds to think carefully about where they went and what situations they should avoid. Even today, we know it’s just common sense that if a person struggles with alcohol, he needs to stay out of bars! Likewise, Paul knew that these Corinthian believers needed to avoid environments where they might be tempted to fall back into sin. Fleeing from sinful environments was the smartest thing they could do if they really wanted to stay free from sin!

This meant the newly saved Corinthian believers had to avoid a lot of places in Corinth! It meant they had to reassess how to maneuver in the city in order to avoid all the places where sin tried to call out to them. Because there were so many sinful places in Corinth, it took concentration and serious planning for them to obey Paul’s exhortation to “flee fornication.” However, because Paul admonished them to stay away from these cesspools of sin and perversion, the committed believers in Corinth learned to move as quickly as possible to “flee” from these establishments.

The word “flee” that Paul used in First Corinthians 6:18 is the Greek word pheugo, which means to run, to flee, or even to take flight. Making this word even stronger is the fact that the tense used in this verse conveys the idea of a habitual fleeing or a continuous escaping. This plainly means Paul is telling believers that they need to make a habit of running from sin!

The Greek word pheugo is used throughout Scripture to depict the act of:

Fleeing from evil influences.

Fleeing from youthful lusts.

Fleeing from morally bad friends.

Fleeing from a corrupt stimulus.

Fleeing from wrongdoing and sin.

In short, the word pheugo means to run like crazy!

Sometimes the smartest thing you can do is get up and get out of a situation as fast as you can. Just as Joseph fled with haste to escape the seductive advances from Potiphar’s wife (see Genesis 39:11,12), if you’re in a setting where you’re being tempted or you feel yourself being lured to do something contrary to the Word of God — get out of there! Rather than stick around to prove you can resist, it’s time for you to get your feet moving and resist sin by saying goodbye as you walk out and let the door slam behind you! A weak person won’t have the strength to say no and walk away — but a person who is strong will say, “Enough is enough!” and walk away.

Paul’s order to the Corinthian congregation was to “flee fornication.” In order for them to obey Paul’s command, these believers had to make drastic changes in their routines. They had to change the places they frequented, the activities they participated in, and the people who surrounded them. If they were going to walk away from sin and stay free from it, they would have to deliberately avoid the situations that previously made it so easy for them to fall into sin.

How does Paul’s message apply to you?

For you to stay free, it may be necessary for you to choose new friends. You may need to make a break from the places where you used to spend your free time. You may need to quit watching the TV programs or movies that once were a big part of your life. It is possible that you may need to stop reading the material you once read. It may even mean that you need to discontinue your Internet service so you won’t gravitate to pornographic sites that keep luring you into their seductive, entangling web.

Is it possible that you’ve been praying for strength to resist sin, when actually all you simply need to do is to stay away from the things that encourage you to sin? If you’re tempted to overeat, stay out of the kitchen! If you’re lured to pornographic websites, then add filters to block those sites, or, if necessary, discontinue your Internet service. Permanently fix your situation by removing yourself from the things and the places that have a negative influence on you. Taking this commonsense approach may be the answer to the prayers you’ve been praying to be free!

If you are serious about your walk with God, you need to make every change necessary to stay both spiritually strong and free from guilt and condemnation. I admonish you to take Paul’s words deep into your heart and “flee” from those things that have an adverse effect on your soul and on your spiritual life. It’s what you would tell someone else to do if you were giving them counsel about how to stay free from alcohol or drugs, so don’t you think it would be wise for you to start applying the same advice to your own life?

1William Barclay, The Letters to the Corinthians (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1975), pp. 2-3.

MY PRAYER FOR TODAY

Lord, I thank You for speaking to my heart today about making a break with my past and with the places that tend to pull me down. I admit that I’ve allowed my flesh to lead me, and I have been wrong for not making better choices for my life. I’ve tried to blame the devil and others for my failure, but today I am taking personal responsibility for the control and direction of my life — and I am walking away from those places, people, and deeds that negatively affect me. Holy Spirit, I tap into Your mighty power already at work within me to strengthen me with might in my inward man as I make these right choices. With Your help and by Your grace, I can and I will walk free and stay free!

I pray this in Jesus’ name!

MY CONFESSION FOR TODAY

I confess that I do not linger in compromising situations where I am tempted to think wrong, speak wrong, and do wrong with my mind, mouth, or body. I am the temple of the Holy Spirit, and I honor the Holy Spirit’s presence in me. I never want to grieve the Spirit by slipping back into those sins from which I’ve been delivered. Therefore, I am making every effort to stay away from people, places, and deeds that have a negative impact on me!

I declare this by faith in Jesus’ name!

QUESTIONS FOR YOU TO CONSIDER

Can you think of people, places, or deeds that you need to make a break from in your life? Make note of them, and then determine a plan of action you can take to avoid them so you can remain free from sin.

Was there a time in your life when you felt seduced by sin, yet you stayed in that bad environment? Did you falsely think that you could overcome it, but instead succumbed to sin over and over again? When and where was that time in your life? What did you learn as a result of that experience?

If you were counseling individuals who were struggling with an addiction or some habitual sin, what would you say in counsel to them to help them stay free? Do you apply this same counsel to your own life?

0 notes