#Oak hammock

[goatsby]

The topless Jeep

The Jeep Wrangler is a beloved icon with a cult following. Who doesn’t think of riding by the beach top down, doors off, sun shining in your face and a salty breeze to awaken the soul? I think the person who bought this Jeep Grand Cherokee must have had buyer’s remorse and instead of admitting a poor life choice, instead decided to hack off the top and doors of this SUV. Not sure what happens…

[brenna]

the vibe for june 27th is maybe fresh air and sunshine will fix everything

[rachelsrandomsphotos]

Resurrection Ferns (Pleopeltis polypodioides)

Taken at Maritime Hammock Sanctuary in Melbourne Beach, FL

[marshmallowfairbanks]

A Moment of Peace

Artist: Mighty Oak

[freshlove-sturn]

house on the cape.

pt 1 pt2

based on last friday’s video bc im obsessed with it. (events that happened in the vlog may not be in order just so the story flows how i want, also might add or get rid of some things for that same reason ofc). definitely gonna be multiple parts if yall like it so please let me know!!

summary: when the triplets come back home from la, they reunite with their favorite summer tradition, staying in the house on the cape. amidst all of the familiar laughter, and reminiscing on old memories, y/n can’t ignore the feeling stirring in her heart. something that went deeper than friendship. as she grapples with the fact that her feelings for her lifelong best friend, matt, are more than what’s just at the surface, she must learn to navigate and balance the unspoken feelings, and the gut wrenching fear of risking it all.

a/n: sorry guys but i think im scrapping all my old fics. i just have lost interest in them and i dont want to give yall something that i just half assed yk. i just need something new 😖🙏 don’t hate me pls. also i didn’t proof read and i never do so hopefully this all makes sense LMAO

……………………..

“BOYS TRIP!” chris shouts through the house.

the triplets are back in boston from being in la. i’d be lying if i said that i didn’t wish that these visits would last forever. being across the country from my best friends sucked.

“oh yeah , and you’ll be there too. you’re one of the boys.” chris points at me, smiling before loading the car with our bags.

“chris please never say that again.” i cringe, but fail to keep in my laughter.

“i agree. that was disgusting.” nick chimes in.

“just wanted to make sure you know you’re included.” chris throws his hands up in defense.

“thanks.” i smile and shake my head before getting in the car.

we were staying at their house in cape cod, something all of us looked forward to each summer growing up.

we arrive at nate’s house to pick him up. after the group effort of showering him in compliments for his new hair cut, we get back in the car.

sandwiched between nick and nathan, i check the time on my phone. nick grabs my wrist and moves it out of the way to give himself a better view of my lock screen.

“that is such a cute picture.” he says admiringly. it was a picture of matt and i. the picture was taken from behind while matt gave a piggy back ride back to the car because my feet hurt from wearing heels to madison’s concert.

“you took it.” i laugh.

“i know. i really out did myself huh.” he hypes himself up. i smile and roll my eyes.

once we get to the cape house, we unload the car. all of our bags scattered haphazardly throughout our respective rooms. the same rooms each of us have stayed in for years. nate with chris, nick with matt, and me, having been the only girl, with my own room.

“let’s go to the beach!” nate walks out into the kitchen, clapping his hands together.

…

the beach was just within walking distance. matt and i fell behind the rest of the group.

“i’m so glad you’re back.” i tell him.

“me too. i missed you.” he replies.

“i missed you too.” i admit. “a lot.” i look up and meet his eyes. we just stare at each other for a second. we didn’t really need to say anything. it was almost just a mutual understanding that each other were our favorite person.

if only he knew the extent.

the only person i’ve confided in about my feelings for matt was nate. which was precisely why he kept shooting me knowing glances anytime matt and interacted. nate swore that he knew i was in love with matt for years, before i even knew myself.

i can’t exactly pinpoint when i fell in love with my best friend, but i do remember when i realized.

flashback

matt and i sit together in the hammock string between two large oak trees in the backyard of the cape house. the gentle breeze swaying us back and forth softly. the sun was going down just to the right of us. beautiful pink and orange hues paint the sky.

“i could stay right here forever.” matt breaks the silence that had fallen between us.

“me too.” i reply softly.

“oh hey i have something for you” he digs his hand around in his pocket and pulls out a baby pink seashell. he hands it it me.

“i’ve never seen a pink one like that before.” he tells me as i admire the gift.

“me either. i love it. thanks matt.” i smile sweetly at him.

“of course.” he returns the smile.

i feel the heartbeat in my chest racing and my cheeks heating up. the feeling i had been carrying around with me for quite some time became abundantly clear.

i was in love with my best friend.

when i got home that night, i tied a string around the shell, and wore it as a necklace. and i haven’t taken it off since.

end of flashback

that was back when we were 16. 4 whole years i’ve gone hiding my biggest secret from the one person i told everything to.

our gaze was interrupted by chris. “jesus, yall are some slow pokes” he hollers back at us.

we both laugh and pick up out pace.

soon we arrive at the beach. i’ve always loved the beach. it truly is my happy place.

especially when i’m with matt.

nick snaps pictures here and there.

“oh my gosh matt look! this is just like your tattoo!” i hold out a shell to him.

“oh shit you’re right.” he holds out his arm, revealing his tattoo.

“that’s sick.” chris admires the similarity while nick takes a picture.

…

later that night, we all sit in the living room debating on what movie to watch.

“chris im not watching planet of the apes again. we’ve watched it like 9 times already.” nick argues, shutting down chris’s pleads.

“how about grown ups?” matt suggests.

“yes i love that movie.” nate agrees.

“that’s fine with me.” nick shrugs and starts typing it in.

“is that good with you?” matt leans down to where i was sitting in front of him, his voice soft and genuine.

“yeah that’s good with me.” i tell him.

he smiles and pats the spot on the couch next to him, gesturing me to come sit up there with him. i stand up from my spot on the floor and sit down next to him. he drapes a blanket over the both of us.

about an hour or so into the movie, my eyes get heavy. i lean my head on matt’s shoulder, to which he responds with wrapping his arm around me. this was nothing out of the ordinary. there’s pictures going back to when we were in preschool of the two of us practically fused together passed out on the living room floor.

suddenly, a gentle shake of my shoulders woke me up from a sleep i hadn’t even known i fell into. my eyes flutter, slowly regaining focus. when they do, i’m met with matt’s gentle blue eyes.

“hey, you wanna go lay down in your bed? i don’t want your neck to be sore.” he asks, genuinely concerned for my comfort.

i look around, everyone else appeared to have gone into their rooms.

“yeah i probably should.” i say through a yawn.

matt grabs my hand and helps me stand up from the couch. we walk down the hallway. my room came before his and nicks.

“goodnight matt.” i say, slowly turning the doorknob.

“goodnight y/n. see ya in the morning.”

i toss and turn in bed, unable to fall asleep. i stand up from bed, and leave my room. slowly making my way to the kitchen to get a drink, careful to not wake anyone up.

i open the fridge and grab a water. before i can take a sip, i hear a familiar voice behind me.

“can’t sleep?” the sudden breach of silence made me jump a little. i turn around and see matt. he was leaned up against the door frame. his sweatpants falling dangerously low on his figure, his arm under his shirt itching his shoulder, exposing his midriff.

“nope. you?” i set my water down on the counter.

“hm mm” he replies.

we stand in silence for a few moments before matt breaks the silence again.

“wanna go to the beach?”

….

a/n: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LMK IF YALL LIKE THIS. SUGGESTIONS ALWAYS WELCOME AND MY INBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN 🙏 i’m using my old taglist, so lmk if you want taken off or added to it!

taglist: @honestlybabymiracle @pepsiimaxx @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattestrella @luvmxtt @rac00ns-are-c00l4

[reyla-the-black-wolf]

My heart speaks for you (Part 2)

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: angsty fluff?, angst, hints of anxiety, anxiety attack, nightmare

Summary: Y/n is the youngest child of the High Lord of the Night Court and lives a slightly different life than the rest of her family. But what happens, when an unexpected visitor enters the stage and decides to completely change her life?

A/N: Hey guys! It took me a bit longer to write this chapter than I had planned to (accidentally deleted a part of the story ups) but finally did it! And I recommend you listen to "Remember that night" by Sara Kays and "The night we met" by Lord Huron.

Anyway, enjoy reading! 😙

Part 1 ⎮Part 2 ⎮Part 3⎮Part 4⎮

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Six days. Six days had passed since the incident in the conference room. Six tough days and not a single glimpse of him. No word, no letter, no message of any kind.

The water of the Sidra washed up on the shore in mesmerising waves, each time stealing a bit more of the glittering sand. Sunlight reflected off the mirrored surface, magically illuminating the facade of the River House. 

The hammock I sat in swayed gently in the afternoon breeze and, thanks to Elain, the sun didn´t bother me too much. My aunt had planted two Illyrian oaks in our garden the year I was born, providing shade now that they had grown from tiny sprouts into strong, sturdy trees. As I became older, I found my favourite reading spot underneath them. They stood a few feet from the River House and were the perfect place to relax and simply be. 

A piece of bark crumbled onto the pages of the book I was holding right now. `Feathers and Fire´ was written in large, ornate letters on the leather-bound cover. Nesta had borrowed me one of her novels to keep me company, as I had spent the last few days mostly by myself. 

I give up! After reading the same paragraph for the third time in a row, I finally slammed the book shut. I had really tried to concentrate on the story in the last hour, but my mind had drifted off more than once. And always back to the same place. 

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I was in shock. Or so I thought, as I couldn´t think clearly. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding so loudly that all of Velaris must´ve heard it.

Mate. Eris Vanserra was my mate. 

I couldn´t believe it. I mean, he doesn´t even know me?

The beige sofa under my legs felt too soft, as if it wanted to pull me into a hug and never let go. And the ticking clock on the opposite wall made my ears twitch in annoyance, so I decided to get up and pace around the living room, trying to quiet my mind. I was massaging my temples to ground myself a little when a soft touch stopped me in my tracks. Small, gentle fingers starting to trail along my shoulder in a soothing rhythm. 

„Sweetheart, look at me, please.“ My mother´s calm voice made me turn to her. „Everything´s going to be all right.“ She radiated pure love. „Whatever happens next, I want you to know you´re not alone. I´m here for you, okay, honey?“ It helped slow down my racing heart a little, but not enough. I sincerely hoped my father and his brothers hadn´t beaten Eris to death just out of anger. 

Just as I thought of them, three men winnowed into the living room. With long strides, my father rushed towards me, some of his darkness still clinging onto him, and cupped my face with both hands. „Darling, are you all right? Are you hurt? Do you need anything?“ He asked worriedly as he inspected me for any injuries, whatever he was looking for. 

I withdrew from his grasp, spun around once to show him I was fine, and put on my most reassuring smile to calm his worries, making his tensed muscles relax. „I´m so sorry. I never wanted you to see this.“ Regret seeped into his voice. „But…“ He paused, visibly struggling to find his next words. „Did the bond snap for you too?“ The question caught me entirely off guard, as I thought he was angry with me, trying to argue. I could almost feel my family holding their breath, dreading my answer. Silky hair fell around my face, casting tender shadows on my features as I shook my head. A quick glance at my parents and I knew they were having a silent conversation. Sweat formed on my palms as I unconsciously clenched my hand into a fist. With each passing second, an unpleasant feeling returned to my stomach, making me want to throw up.

It spread even further when my father turned his attention back to me, and my heart sank as I noticed the sudden change in his expression. A completely blank canvas. The mask of a High Lord. Others probably wouldn´t see through his masquerade of deceit. But I could. I did. I had studied his features over the years, every time he put it on. How his jaw tightened just an inch, noticeable only to the trained eye. How his eyes shimmered in a more vibrant shade of violet. I´d seen him in his role so many times that I´d learned to watch out for him. The real him. Not the High Lord, but my father. He kept his face sealed, but I could see what he hid behind that mask. Fury over Eris. His worry. But the strongest emotion was his love for me. 

„I want you to stay away from him. Or even talk to him.“ Someone had just knocked all the air out of my lungs and punched me in the guts. I hadn´t been braced for what was to come. My pulse skipped a beat and the blood in my veins began to boil. He can´t do this! Voices shouted in my head and a lump formed in the back of my throat. But why? I didn´t even know Eris, even though he was my mate. I shouldn´t be so disappointed. He is practically a stranger. 

At a loss for words, I stared at my parents. „We don´t want to make decisions about your life, but Eris is a... complicated man.“ my mother interjected. You mean dangerous. 

„Wait, Eris is your mate?“ I flinched and turned around, only to spot my brother hidden in the darkness with a shit-eating grin on his face. „Finally something interesting is happening.“ he chuckled, earning him a slap on the neck from Cass. „Hey!“ he cried out as my father shot him a warning glare before continuing his lecture. „Darling, listen. We only want to protect you and make sure you don´t get hurt. And Eris is not good company. He has proven that several times in the past. So please believe us when we tell you to stay away from him. We have our reasons.“ And what are they? A knot tightened in my stomach when I heard Azriel whispering from behind: „Especially after what he did to Mor.“

But he is my mate! Even if we don´t know each other well, don´t I have the right to figure out what´s happening between us? My mind screamed at me. Say something! Anything! You know you can! I forced my thoughts to shut down. We would not have this conversation now. Fight back! But I didn´t. I understood that my parents were trying to protect me. They were angry, no doubt, but with the love in their eyes, I couldn´t argue against them. 

So I only looked up and nodded, giving them a coy smile, even though it felt wrong. So terribly wrong. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

This moment had been stuck in my head for the past few days. Although I´d agreed not to approach Eris, somehow I still hoped he would talk to me. Maybe to explain when and how the bond had snapped for him. 

Starlight? Az is waiting for you in the training ring.

Oh, right. I looked at the sun, which was already sinking deeper into the sky. Uncle Az had asked me yesterday if I wanted to train with him. We usually met at the same time every week to train, but over the last few days he had become more careful around me, giving me more space.

I quickly stowed the book away, not wanting Nesta to get upset if something happened to her beloved book. Changing into my fighting gear, I winnowed to meet Azriel. 

„Faster!“ Azriel shouted, lunging forward, but not fast enough. I sidestepped his punch to the right, and in the brief moment his defence was down, I landed three swift blows to his ribs. He groaned in pain and tried to sweep me off my feet in one smooth motion. Just as I was about to dive again, my back hit the sandy ground, Truthteller at my throat. A sweaty Azriel lay on top of me. 

He pulled me up, brushing the sand from my clothes. „That wasn´t too bad, but you´re less focused today.“ A questioning look crossed his face for a second as he looked down at me, then it returned to his usual straight expression.

I opened my mouth slightly as if to reply, but shrugged instead and walked towards the edge of the training ground, breathing heavily. Az only threw a knowing look in my direction. He knows. He knows how I feel. 

We had been training for about two hours and I didn´t know how my muscles were still able to keep me standing, but anyway, I was grateful for them when I winnowed us back to the River House for dinner. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

After a quick shower, I now sat opposite to my brother at the wooden table eating dinner and it was truly a symphony for the senses. Wine glasses clinking. Knives scraping against plates. The aromatic scent of grilled steak and vegetables wafting through the room as my family engaged in a huge debate about who had the biggest wingspan. All I could do was smile at the silliness of it all and feel it seep into my soul. 

My father stroked my back lazily beside me, probably to keep calm, as Nyx started throwing peas across the table at Cassian, who dodged them. It really was ridiculous. „Seriously! A little decency, please!“ Amren hissed at this `display of strength´. Mor chuckled, „They´re Illyrians. Do you really think their egos would just ignore it if someone with bigger wings came along?“ My mother nearly choked on her wine at this comment, earning an amused look from her husband. „Can we all just calm down a little before the whole dining room is decorated with pieces of food?“ A quick, stern glance around the table from the High Lord and everyone resumed eating, interrupted now and then by a few giggles.

Ten minutes had passed, and the others had just finished chatting about upcoming events in Velaris, when Amren apparently decided to break the comfortable silence. „So y/n. Has anything been happening with the Autumn Heir lately?“ The wicked smirk on her face made her look like a cat that had caught a mouse to play with. All of a sudden, the room fell silent and everyone stopped eating. I felt my father stiffen beside me, his muscles tense. „Amren.“ Azriel warned, a low growl escaping his throat. „What? Just a sincere question.“ Not impressed by his threatening face. Not in the slightest.

Of course, the incident with Eris had spread around the River House throughout the last few days, fuelling rumours, but the others hadn´t said anything to me yet. I should have guessed that it was only a matter of time until the tension would blow up.

I think I might throw up. I certainly wasn´t in the mood to talk about it with my family. Not today. My blood froze as I gathered the strength to look into Amren´s cold, steely eyes, which were fixed directly on me. She didn´t even flinch when my father shot her a terrifying glare that would send shivers down your spine. 

Words began to flow into my mind, begging to be heard and a familiar feeling crept through my entire body, making my nerves go blank. It felt like I couldn´t breathe. 

„Are you all right, dear? You look a bit pale.“ she said, making me feel even more nauseous. „Amren, don´t.“ Everyone had stopped breathing by now. „You don´t have to answer her question, darling.“ My father´s hand darted out to graze my fingers, but I pulled back at the sensation. „You are his mate y/n, aren´t you? Must be desperate to know why.“ „Enough!“ Pure darkness collected in the corners of the dining room, ready to consume everything. I´d never seen my father so pissed off. „Why would you say such a thing?“ Mor uttered. „Exactly! She´s my sister, I´m the only one allowed to make fun of her!“, Nyx joined in. „I´m in the mood for some trouble.“ she responded honestly, taking a sip from her wine glass, completely untroubled. 

Everyone began to talk over each other, making it difficult to distinguish the individual voices. Tears welled up in my eyes as I covered my ears. The noise was becoming too much to bear. I sniffled, holding back a cry as I stood up and took a few steps away from the table. My chair scraped along the floor, causing everyone to turn around to me and all the shouting stopped. The tears began to trickle down my cheeks as my mother noticed them first, „Sweetheart, we´re so sorry.“ She stood up too. „We didn't mean to make you cry.“ Mor tried to reassure me, guilt clouding her voice. Everything felt too overwhelming. Leave. Walk away. Get out of this situation. 

„Starlight, come here. It´ll be fine.“ He took a few steps in my direction, but I quickly held my hand up in front of him to keep a distance between me and my father. 

„Y/n. Darling, we´re…“ But he stopped when I shook my head and scowled at him. Stared at all of them, anger written on my face, before I winnowed to my room. Leaving them all guilty and silent. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

With my back against the door, I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face. It´s my life! I get to decide how I deal with Eris! Why do they keep talking about it like it isn´t my decision? Like it´s not my life? 

My nails scraped the floor, attempting to hold on to something, anything, as I spiralled down a path I didn´t want to go. A guttural sound escaped my lips as my hand clenched into a fist and slammed into the expensive wood panels beneath me. Pain shot through my knuckles, making me want to scream. Anger. Fear. Emptiness. These emotions ran through my mind as my body shook with sobs. Why can´t I just talk? I want to, but I can´t... I don´t know... the words just won´t come out when I try. It made me even angrier when I thought about it. Do I not feel safe enough around my own family to talk to them? Or is there something wrong with me? 

A knot formed in my stomach. I had never had a big problem with myself before. Not with my body, nor with my inability to speak to others. But now I wished, longed to talk to someone. Just someone who understood me. Someone who...

A certain scent wafted through the room making me pay attention. Was that smoke? I sat up straighter to observe my own bedroom. Books were scattered across the floor and the door to the neighbouring bathroom was open. My bed was made, covered in indigo silk sheets that shimmered slightly in the moonlight streaming in through the closed windows. A few plants hung from the frescoed ceiling. Nothing more.

My eyes were no longer watery and my heartbeat had stabilised. But I could still smell that there was... something. Parchment.

I looked over at my desk, which was littered with various rolls of parchment, papers and pencils of all kinds. But right in the middle. Something had changed. 

Slowly, on shaky legs, I got up and walked over to my desk. A crimson envelope lay there, and next to it a shiny golden feather with light brown spots. I couldn´t remember putting anything like that here. It smelled of an open fire, fresh rain and a hint of vanilla. 

Deep down I knew who must have sent it. I opened the letter with trembling hands.

 ・✧✵✧・✧✵✧・

Hello Princess,

Do you remember the night we met? To be honest, I can´t forget you. Standing on the balcony in your stunning gown, watching the stars fall upon you, even though they couldn´t diminish your appearance. At first I wasn´t sure how to approach you, but I did it anyway.

And it turned out to be one of the most wonderful nights I have ever had, and I wanted to thank you for it.

I could almost hear him chuckling to himself as a warmth filled my heart.

As you probably know by now, I'm your mate, but I don´t want you to feel obligated to anything that concerns me. It is your decision whether or not you wish to meet with me. ( Though I wouldn´t mind, of course) 

A blush spread across my tear-stained cheeks and I instinctively smiled. He had thought of me. He really had. My heart melted like snow in early spring. Something about him made me feel complete and understood. 

But if that´s the case, winnow to the border of Autumn in two days. I´ll be waiting for you under a birch tree when the sun sets. You can´t miss it. Sleep well, Princess! 

His letter also contained a small note. 

(Oh, the feather and the paper you write on will appear on my desk as soon as you write back).

・✧✵✧・✧✵✧・

I was speechless. Not just because he had thought of me or wanted to meet me. No. But because he would let me decide for myself. He wouldn´t force me to accept the bond, even if it hadn´t snapped for me yet. 

Not wanting to think clearly at the moment, I did the only thing that seemed right. I broke the agreement with my parents. 

I pulled out the chair, sat down, picked up the quill and wrote back. 

Half an hour later, I was lying in my bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows and a gentle night breeze caressing my form. A few candles were lit to provide some sort of night light. 

Just as I was falling asleep, footsteps came from the hallway and my bedroom door creaked as it slowly opened. I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, not wanting to talk to whoever it was. „Darling, are you still awake?“ My father´s voice echoed through the room as he peeked out from behind the door. 

Just breathe. He won´t recognise it.

And he didn´t. He only walked over to my bed and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ear, while the last thing I heard was him whispering: „I´m deeply sorry, Starlight.“ before he silently walked out of my room, leaving me alone. 

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Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not the slightest flicker of light. Total darkness consumed everything around me. No light, nor sun, nor any kind of something... soft. Something to keep me warm as the cold crept up my body, like a hidden shadow from the depths of darkness. 

I gasped for some air to reach my lungs, but all I could inhale was dust. Air! I need air! My lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen and a tingling sensation shot through my entire being.

I felt like a flame being smothered as a deep, dark wave crashed over me, trying to drown me, as if I were nothing. As if I didn´t matter. 

The darkness drew closer with each passing second. Minute? Hour? Time didn´t matter in this place of emptiness. A place without walls or windows or even solid ground. The only things that trapped me were my own thoughts and the giant beast I couldn´t see, but felt. It swallowed everything around it as its claws raked along my skin, my soul, leaving scratches all over me.

I screamed, but all that came out of my mouth was... nothing. Every sound, no matter how small, was absorbed by the emptiness of this place. 

My body was drenched in sweat and my voice must have been hoarse by now from screaming my heart out for I don´t know how long. Slowly my body was losing consciousness and I was drifting further and further into the devouring void as I frantically tried to breathe. Please! I need to breathe! My heart stuttered for a moment. Help... help me! Somebody! Please, I... Hot tears streamed down my face and my eyes slowly closed as I was suffocated and drowned by the beast that guarded this place. My body went limp, tired from fighting. 

A gentle brush of soft fur against my back was the last thing I felt as I drifted into nothingness. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

I jolted out of my sleep, my heart racing and the sheets beneath me damp with sweat. You´re awake! Everything is fine! I placed my hand over my chest, feeling my pulse slowly steady as I realised it was all just a nightmare. The silver curtains swayed slightly at the open windows and the moon shone so brightly I had to blink my eyes. `Shh, it´s all right, Little one. I´m here´ it yearned to say. My breathing had normalised and I ran a hand through my sticky hair. It was just a dream. I lay back and tried to sleep again, but I knew it was going to be a long night. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

@tele86 @circe143 @impossibelle @st4r-girl-official @cherry-cin

[ltwilliammowett]

Sea Shanties and Shipboard Music aboard Warships

Traditionally, sea shanties were sung on board both warships and merchant ships to help light the work involved in sailing the ship. They are usually divided into two main groups - capstan shanties, designed to accompany the hard effort involved in heaving on the bars of the ship's capstan, and halyard shanties, where either the rhythm or the words were designed to help the men pull together, for instance when raising a sail pr raising up a new spar to the masthead.

Most shanties follow the same pattern, with short versesand boisterous but repetitive choruses. Sometimes the lyrics were either made up aas the seamen went along, or else improvised or repeated, especially if the task proved longer than the shanty. The words were often less important than the rhythm of the song, although some shanties such Shenandoah or Blow the Man Down have become famous as songs in their own right. Oh and by the way the first known shanties date from the mid-16th century, recorded in the Complaynt of Scotland (1549), but their origins probably lie much further back than that.

It has been argued that sea shanties were much more commonplace on merchant vessels than on warships, as the later were comparatively well manned, so the labour involved in sailing the ship was less arduous. This theory isn't borne out by what we know about life in the sailing navies of the world. While shanties might have been less commonly used as working songs, they were widdely sung as a means of recreation. Music was important on board a sailing man o'war, and instruments such as fiddles, fifes and flutes were often played when sailors were off-duty. And the sailors loved singing on board until ordered to their hammocks at pipe down, these shanties are known as fo'c's'le songs or forebitters. Dancing was also popular, and many captains encouraged it, as a way of keeping spirits high and of providing exercise.

Popular songs in the Royal Navy during the Napoleonic Wars were Nancy Dawson, Spanish Ladies and Drops of Brandy and some ships carried an official band, and during the approach of the British Fleet to the enemy at the Battle of Trafalgar, many ships played Rule Britannia, Hearts of Oak or Britons Strike Home.

Shanties during work on board depended on the captain, because not everyone wanted music. It was more like silence aboard a warship so that the men could hear the orders better and not get lost in the singing. But it also happened that there was singing or a flute was played when the anchor was being aweight but that mostly depending on the situation on the ship.

Well the truth was, music such as sea shanties made the work appear easier, whether on board a merchant vessel or a warship. But the shanties went out of favour with the coming of steam. With no sails to raise, and with steam powered capstans there was little need to sing during work. By the later 19th century they had lost their original workmanlike purpose, and shanties became something that were sung for fun and get mixed with the so called sailors songs, rather than as a song of work.

[the-soggy-sunflower-ship]

KOBYLU Week: Day 1, Cannon Roles

so overjoyed now that i can post this.. its been in my drafts since June 24.. this is RLLY short, so be wary

very silly queers heehee

Koby felt sweat drip down his forehead as he ushered 'the new cadet' into his personal quarters, giving soldiers nearby a tightlipped smile.

"Luffy, WHY are you dressed up in a Marine uniform asking around the base for me?!" He whispered frantically, locking the door behind him.

"We were nearby, and I wanted to see Koby! Its been two years! " The pirate laughed like he wasnt one of the most wanted men alive in the middle of hostile territory.

"Oh. " Koby had to admit, the thought of Luffy getting into trouble for him did make him just a **little** happier as he turned away from him. "I missed you too."

"Soo... wanna go eat breakfast?"

"Luffy, its midnight."

"Oh. Pre-breakfast, then?"

"Pre.. what? No, im sorry. This is Navy territory. You shouldn't be seen."

Luffy went on a rant about how CRAZY it was that he hadnt gotten to eat pre-breakfast, and after a few minutes, he dragged Koby over to sit on the bed with him.

"Did you know adult stag beetles drink tree-sap? They like oak best, and they eat rotting wood as larva! Isnt it awesome!? I like the Hercules beetle best cause its horns can grow up to 7 inches long!" Luffy was beaming, joy visible on his face as he leaned slightly on Koby.

"You really love beetles, huh?" He smiled at the pirate, relaxing against the netting of the soft hammock.

"Who doesn't!? Anyway, Hercules beetles are a type of rhinos.." Time passed by, and with his exhaustion from the days mission, the hammock swaying gently, Luffy's voice peacefully mixing with ocean waves, and the warmth of his body pressed against the other mans took affect on the marine. Koby fell asleep promptly, head resting on Luffy's shoulder and arms and legs eventually wrapping around Luffy unconciously. It was wildly improper and taboo for a future Marine admiral to snuggle up with the future Pirate King,

But for the night, they were just people. Just Luffy and Koby, Koby and Luffy.

[thefallennightmare]

can i get a head cannon for jolly pls? like the day after he comes home from tour and you guys cuddle in bed all day or sit outside in a hammock and read together? you could totally give this a smutty twist too if you want👀

@thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @concreteemo @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @thatchickwiththecamera @itsafullmoon @shilohrosechicken @klutzy-kay24 @shadowseve @burning-outx @lookwhatitcost @exitwoundsx @thisbicc @pathion @cookiesupplier @sammyjoeee @whenthesummerdies @toospooktocute @collective-heartbreak @anthemheatwave @exitwoundsx @joe9cool

SMUT BELOW THE BELT!

The soft breeze blew through the hammock, making both you and Jolly sway slightly.

It was a big enough hammock that both of you were able to lay in it together.

It was set up between two large oak trees in Jolly's backyard and you had a book perched on your lap while he was staring down at you, completely ignoring his book.

"What?" You asked, not taking your eyes off the words on the page.

Jolly didn't say anything.

Instead he began leaving feather like kisses along the exposed skin of your neck and you let out a long breath of a moan.

"Jolly, we cant fuck on the hammock. It's not strong enough for that," you giggled when his beard tickled your neck.

"We don't have to have sex, karaste. Just let me fill you up with my cock and we can take a nap."

The idea of cock warming made your stomach flip.

Glancing up at him, you marveled at how beautiful he looked with his long hair pulled back out of his face, those dark eyes watching you with adoration.

Peering over his shoulder, you noticed none of his roommates were outside and really couldn't see what was going on.

You also did have a blanket thrown over the two of you.

"Okay," you agreed with a wicked smirk.

He slipped your sweats and panties down just below your ass, giving it a quick smack, before tugging his cock out.

"Turn around," he patted your thigh with a gentle voice.

It took some maneuvering but you made it so you were laying in front of him and you let out a guttural moan when his cock slipped past your slick folds, filling you up completly.

"Sweet dreams, karaste," Jolly kissed the side of your head.

[hannahssimblr]

I wander through the food stalls in the late afternoon once I’ve inevitably lost the others, and join a long queue for food. Chips. This seems to be ninety percent of my diet these days. Chips and the kinds of sweets from the corner shop that burn the coating off my tongue. I pay for them and some sad, limp looking hotdog and wolf them down before hopping into the queue for the bar. I get three beers, all with the lids confiscated. Necking them all is the only way to avoid the inconvenience of carrying them upright for several hours, and while I do it, I wander through the festival in a relatively aimless search of a familiar face. 

The festival is in a field, or several, somewhere. I really have no sense of where I am according to a map. By the edge of the campsite, a path meanders into a small wood decorated with ribbons and hanging lamps in the foliage overhead. Acoustic melodies drift down the winding path as I pass couples in hammocks and groups of friends seated in the shade among the wildflowers. 

There is a smaller stage here, wooden, with a tarp hung overhead, housing musicians who play a lazy tune to a crowd on the picnic blankets and cushions scattered across the grass. A group of people in weird clothing dance in a circle, doing the type of moves people only seem to do when they’re familiar with the bong. Swaying, arms loose and hair, (because they all have long hair,) swishing across their backs. I seat myself on the grass in the dappled shade of an oak tree to finish my last beer, watching them as I let the alcohol slowly take over my body with that familiar, hazy weight. 

Eventually, one dancer sees me. Our eyes meet across the clearing and I feel embarrassed for looking at all. She smiles this slow, tranquil smile and begins a slow dance in my direction. 

“Fuck sake.” I think. “Why was I looking? Now I’m going to have to speak to this weird hippie-”

“Are you joining us, or are you just having a look?” She has a country accent I don’t recognise, but since I’m ignorant of all that exists outside of Dublin city, this much is not surprising. 

“I’m just, uh, I’m just looking, I suppose.”

“You seem a wee bit glum.”

“Right well, I’m fine, so.”

“I assumed you were looking over at us because you felt like a dance, but were feeling shy.”

I hack out a laugh. “What? No. No, I don’t dance like that.”

“‘Like that’? Like what?”

I peer over to the others behind her, one of which appears to believe he’s floating through time and space. “I’m not even nearly stoned enough, to be honest.”

“Ah, well, easy fix there. You could be stoned.” She sticks her hand into the pocket of her big patchwork skirt and offers me a rolled joint, but I shake my head and push it away. “Look, thanks, but I don’t smoke.”

“Do you do anything else?” she rummages through another pocket. 

“Not right now.”

“What’s wrong with now?”

“It’s about four in the afternoon.”

“It’s a festival. We don’t currently exist under the constraints of society. You don’t have to wait until it’s dark to do pills here, or whatever it is you think. You can be a free man, anybody you want to be.”

I shake my head. “You’d only be wasting them on a stranger. Don’t.”

She plonks next to me in the grass. The smell from her clothes is like the health food shop in town, where Jen buys those enormous bags of sesame sticks to munch with deliberate obnoxiousness in the middle of religion class.

She says, “You seem forlorn. I have this sense that you ought to be happier.”

I regard her for a moment, her red curls wild, the sun catching a halo of frizz around a circular face. “Look, if you’re coming over here for some other reason, like, you know… if this is about you wanting to-”

“I don’t fancy you, or anything like that.” She says, then, after I pause, she adds, “sorry to shock you, but I’m not interested.”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you offended?”

I hesitate. “No.” 

“You’re hardly making an assumption because I’m a girl doing something nice for you, are you? This doesn’t mean I want something more from you. You get that, right?”

I shrug. 

“Because that’s what boys do. They’re only nice to girls they think are hot.”

“Speaking from experience?”

She sighs, a great, long sigh of something like satisfaction with herself for having figured me out. “See, you would have been quite mean to me in school, wouldn’t you?”

I survey her for a few moments, then decide on cautious honesty. “Probably.”

“I’m healing at the moment. I’m seeking empathy for the kinds of people who I feel resentment towards. I thought I’d come over and offer you, and by extension every sporty, slightly ignorant boy from my secondary school…” She pulls a small baggie out of that skirt pocket and her face lights up with surprised delight, “ketamine! See it as a peace offering.” 

I ignore it until she puts it away. 

“You actually remind me of my friend.” I tell her.

“Interesting.” 

“She’s got the same hair, whenever she doesn’t straighten it, and stuff, it’s kind of curly like yours.”

“Ah, and is she also a massive babe?”

I pause.

“God. I was joking. You can say that she’s pretty without slipping up and complimenting me, too. Don’t worry, I won't get the wrong idea.”

“Yeah, Alison’s pretty. She doesn’t really, um, wear the clothes you wear, or anything, there’s just something about your hair, I suppose, and parts of your face that remind me of her.”

“Is Alison here today?”

“No, she’s in Dublin. I… yeah.”

The girl grins and bites her lip impishly. “So this friend, is she just a friend, or do you love her or something?”

I’m rendered momentarily speechless by the strangeness of this conversation. Who is this person, this Alison imposter? I shake my head. “No, it wasn’t like that with us. She’s a friend.”

“But you want more.” She prompts, and I furrow my brow. “You’re fairly nosy. Did you know that?”

“You’ve just started telling me this. I’m only listening to you.”

“Fair enough. I don’t know, anyway, maybe I wanted more at a certain time, but I’m just kind of like that with a lot of girls, like, I just get, like, feelings about them. It’s the main thing that’s wrong with me at the moment.”

“Explain that to me some more. Do they not feel it back, or?”

“Well, that’s not the issue, usually.”

“Ah,” she says, “You’ve got other, deep dark, brooding things going on, then.”

I lay my empty beer bottle on the grass. It tips over and rolls down the little incline where we sit, out of reach. I leave it there. “I suppose.”

Someone in the band has whipped out a sitar, sending psychedelic sounds over the crowd, and I sort of feel like my body is ascending to another realm, transported right back to that time Jen and I did mushrooms in a carpark and all the vehicles started looking like big weird bugs. It's dreamlike, transcendent, like I’m not real, and nothing I say holds any weight. I’m just a soul in the woods with a ginger girl in fairy clothes offering me bags of pills. 

“So, are you sad about Alison?” She says. 

“That’s part of it.”

“And the other parts, are they related to women, too?”

“Everything’s related to women a bit, isn’t it?”

“I’m very curious about what’s wrong with you.”

I let out a short, self-conscious laugh and pluck a blade of grass from the ground. 

“You don’t have to tell me. I just wonder what has you sad and alone in absolutely glorious weather, on the first day of a festival.”

“That’s why you came over, is it?”

“Yeah, in part. I’m saving you the same way I’d save a baby bird chucked out of its nest.”

“You look like you’d do that,” I say derisively, “and you'd disrupt the entire hangout so you could call the SPCA.”

She doesn’t flinch. “Yeah, ‘cause I would.”

“Okay, well, you could be working on me for a while. I think there’s everything wrong with me currently, so.”

“Well, I’m high as fuck, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Right.” I concentrate intently on the grass in my hand, folding it, knotting it, then breaking it apart, centimetre by centimetre. The girl, Not Alison. Weed Alison, sits there patiently as I repeat this process, plucking grass, fiddling with it, breaking it, flicking the bits away.

There’s a chance, I realise, I am becoming a weird man. A man who does things like this, who sits with a person he has never met before, and begins telling her private things about himself. Next thing I know, I’ll be fifty-eight years old and doing this to college girls on the bus as they try their best to ignore me and look out the window as I miss their every signal. The outlook isn't great.

This girl is asking questions because she is overly interested in other people’s lives and sees me as something amusing to be played with. Intellectually, I know this, yet there is a part of me that believes she has genuine concern for me and my wellbeing, like I really am some rejected baby bird. I experience a wave of momentary anger at her for confusing me until it becomes suddenly clear that I am angry at myself for the things that I feel. 

Still, the truth, having been given permission to emerge, rises in my stomach like bile.

I’m horrified to feel emotion swelling behind my face, and wait a long time to speak, in case my voice cracks and humiliates me. “I think I’m in love with someone.” 

“Oh, right,” she says, like this piece of information is not as astounding as I assumed it would be. “Someone other than your Alison friend.”

“Yeah, someone else.”

“Another she? Or a he, this time?”

I huff out a laugh. “A she.”

“Have you mentioned it to her?”

“God, no.”

“Do you plan to?”

“It’s pretty obvious to me that she’s better off not knowing.”

Her face lights up. “Ah, because she’s together with somebody else. Your friend, right? Your best friend.”

“Why are you making this into a soap opera? She’s not with anyone else... I don't think. It’s just, logistically. It’s not right.”

“So you’re kind of… not following your heart.”

“Fucked if I know what I’m doing, to be honest.” 

“Well,” she says, leaning thoughtfully onto her elbows, “What would happen if you told her about what you’re feeling?”

I glare at her in outrage.

She blinks. “Well, don’t you think she might like to know?”

“No, it’d be the worst thing possible. I’ll ruin her.”

“Maybe it’d be worse if you didn’t tell her.”

I have to stare at her for several seconds while I formulate a response. “It’s best for us both that I say nothing.”

“You have to tell her. What if she feels the same? What if she’s just waiting for you to say something? What if you’re both afraid for the same reason? What if you miss your chance and never get another?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Have you ever kissed her?”

“No.”

She gasps, eyes dancing. “You must. What if it’s fab?”

“That’d be worse than not doing it at all.”

She cocks her head, “I don’t understand you. What about this love you supposedly feel?”

“It’s just a summer thing. I’ll get over it.” 

A sigh. “Okay”

“I always do.”

“Until you don’t.”

I narrow my eyes. “What’s that mean?”

“It means you do until you don’t. I thought that too, once, and then-”

“Eimear!” One of the dancing hippies calls out to her as the melody changes again, to something lively and upbeat. “Are you bringing your little chavvy friend to dance or not?”

She looks at me, and I shake my head firmly. 

“No,” she calls back, “He's decided against it.”

The group boos me heartily as she climbs to her feet, making such a scene with their disapproval that others turn to have a look, and to smile at me in that sympathetic way that you do to a child that is failing to fit in with his peers. I am a spectacle in football shorts among the harem-pantsed congregation. 

“Let yourself experience love.” Eimear says in parting, as serenely, she drifts towards her friends, twirling in a meadow of dog daisies. 

“Right, yeah.” I say, and get up to wander back the way I came, wobbly on my feet as the full force of the beers I necked in one go hits me all at once. And as I leave the strange, hazy dreamland behind and reenter the grungy reality of the main arena, I reach into my pocket and discover something that wasn’t there before. 

It’s a baggie with three pink, pressed ketamine pills. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[jjasen]

this is how to disappear

summary: keeping jj from slipping away from you, inspired by how to disappear by lana del rey

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, angst

word count: 1.5k

john met me down on the boulevard

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You glance over your shoulder at John B.

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. “So,” he greets you noncommittally, “can I sit here?” You nod and bite your lip, turning back to watch the waves crash onto the shore, the remnants of the sunset casting a soft orange glow onto the water.

cried on his shoulder ‘cause life is hard

He sits down beside you. A few moments pass in quiet contemplation. “He doesn’t mean to hurt you, you know,” he says, squinting at the horizon. 

“I know.” You run your hands down your thighs. It’s starting to get chilly as the last beams of sunlight dip below the skyline. “It still does, though. Hurt, I mean.” 

He looks at you, his cinnamon-brown eyes sorrowful, then sighs, ducking his head. “Yeah. I know.” He pauses, gathering his words. “He just- he’s so scared that you’ll leave him. I think it gives him a sense of control if he’s the one to withdraw first.”

You smile mournfully, thinking back to your argument. 

You were - all of you, even Sarah - hanging out in John B’s yard, lounging around in camp chairs and hammocks under the shade of the oak trees, hoping to escape the oppressive summer heat. The Chateau’s air conditioning system was broken, and there was nothing to drink except for tap water and few lukewarm beers, which hadn’t deterred JJ from snagging a can and popping it open in his hammock. Pope had dug out a box of sticky cherry ice pops from the freezer for the rest of you. 

“So, JJ,” Kie had leaned forward, elbows on her knees as she cupped her chin with her palms, “Are you, like, gonna return the hot tub? It’s been less than a month, so theoretically you could get the restitution money back.”

the waves came in over my head

“What?” Your outburst was half-laughter, half incredulous. You turned to look at him, sitting up in your hammock, a dull ache beginning to throb in your chest. “You didn’t tell me you used all of the restitution money to buy the hot tub.” 

what you been up to, my baby?

A quick glance at all the others confirmed that they had all been aware of your boyfriend’s expenditure. Pope looked down at his lap, his melting popsicle slowly dripping onto the grass, John B muttered a low, “Shit, man,” and Sarah stared at you worriedly, biting on her lower lip. 

all of the guys tell me lies but you don’t 

JJ clenched his jaw, the muscles in the column of his neck ticking, and refused to meet your gaze. “It’s nothing, dude,” he mumbled, getting up to crush his empty beer can with his boot and walking inside the Chateau. An uncomfortable silence settled over the group and you could feel the pogues watching you carefully, sending a prickle down your spine. 

you just crack another beer

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have- It’s my fault for mentioning it,” Kie said, fidgeting with her bracelets. 

“It’s fine,” you sighed, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I should- I should probably go talk to him.” The sweet taste of cherry ice on your tongue had quickly turned sour, and you tossed your wooden popsicle stick, stained a bright red, somewhere into the yard before following JJ into the house. You found him in the kitchen, braced over the sink, and you could tell he saw you in his periphery by the way his knuckles whitened, biceps flexing in his threadbare black muscle tank, the way he pressed his lips together. 

 and pretend that you’re still here

“Were you going to tell me?” You crossed your arms casually, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Because this feels like something a person would generally tell their partner about. Maybe before they tell literally everybody else.”

 “Just- just fucking stop, okay? Just stop,” he bit out, holding a hand out towards you, his voice ragged. He turned to face you, running his hand through his blond hair, and stared at you for a moment. His chest heaved and he shook his head. “This is- I don’t wanna fucking talk about this shit. Not with you,” he said stiffly, before stalking out of the house. You made to follow him, briefly, but as if he knew what you were doing, he held up his hand from the yard, signaling you to stop.

“Don’t!” he called, not bothering to look back at you.

this is how to disappear

You watched him helplessly from John B’s sun-bleached porch, JJ’s figure shrinking into the distance. Dust flew up in the scorching summer heat, clouding his retreating silhouette. You pretended that the pogues weren’t watching you with their pity-filled eyes, and they pretended that they hadn’t witnessed your fight. You appreciated it, awkward as it may be; it was easier this way. And you knew that for JJ, it was easier to just up and leave. 

this is how to disappear

“I should talk to him.” It’s not a question, but you still look over at John B. He’s gazing into the horizon, watching the sea swirl inky indigo blue as the sky darkens, fiddling unconsciously with that tattered old bandana he wears around his neck. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you should,” he says. He’s still sitting there when you get up from the pier.

I know he’s in over his head

You know JJ well enough by now that you know where he goes when he’s in his moods, or needs to think. And sure enough, you find him at Rixon’s cove, sitting in a low-hanging branch of the oak tree that overlooks the ocean. You’re certain that he clocks your presence in the subtle ways his body shifts - an almost imperceptible head tilt towards you, his hand threading through his messy blond hair, a quiet intake of breath. 

“I care, JJ. I care so much it hurts sometimes.” You skip past any semblance of greeting him and resume the conversation you’d had, hours earlier. You liked that about JJ, and he liked that about you: that the two of you could switch and weave through different discussions seamlessly, without a blink of an eye. 

 but I love that man like nobody can

“I know.” JJ turns to face you and it’s now that you register his reddened eyes, a smear of dirt and a few scrapes on his cheekbone. You move closer to clamber up onto the branch he’s sitting on, the tree’s bark rough under your palms. He looks down at his trembling hands. “It’s just- I do these stupid, shitty things all the time. And I don’t know how to stop, and I just want to do the right thing, and I- I fucking can’t.” He’s getting himself worked up again, frustration seeping into his voice, his jaw tensing.

he moves mountains and pounds them to ground again

“The gun, the hot tub - JJ, look at me,” you say softly. JJ gives people only enough of him to form a relationship; never enough so they could hurt him. For why would he trust anybody to love him when he has been taught that all people know how to do is hurt him? “I don’t care about that. It’s stupid. Of course it’s stupid. But there’s nothing you could do to make me stop loving you,” you say gently, reaching out to take his hand, to brush your thumb over his calloused palms. His fingers shake with how desperately he wants to be loved. The weight of his hand in yours is warm and familiar and comfortingly heavy.

I watched the guys getting high as they fight for the things that they hold dear 

JJ closes his eyes. “Do you promise?” It’s no more than a whisper, a murmur through the cool night air. The last dregs of sun tint his face with a golden glow, his blue eyes now a clear silver in the evening light. His gaze is wide, searching, as if he will find the key to the universe scattered across your cheekbones. 

to forget the things they fear

“I promise.” There is nothing you have ever been more sure of, and the fact that JJ sits back, relieved, as though he hadn’t been sure, makes something akin to sadness bubble up in your chest. 

this is how to disappear

“Come here.” You wrap your arms around him, careful not to fall out of the tree. JJ buries his face into the nape of your neck; his hair smells like the earth, like weed and cedarwood. Like home. He holds you tight, as if at any moment you could slip away from his grasp, his hands warm and pressed against your back, your waist. 

I watch the skies getting light as I write, as I think about those years

You lean down slightly so that your lips brush the shell of his ear. 

as I whisper in your ear 

“I'm always going to be right here. No one's going anywhere.”

[aloysiavirgata]

Twelve opening sentences to twelve different fics

Thanks to @slippinmickeys for the tag! This was really fun and I wholeheartedly encourage everyone to give it a go!

***

1. Dana Scully rejects tasseography, astrology, tarot cards, chiromancy, augury, crystallography, spirit boards, runecasting, scrying, and all other methods of prognosticative divination.

- The Parting Glass (FTF)

2. He sits on the porch next to a little propane heater, gazing out at the Winter Hexagon as it slowly rolls above the horizon.

- Albedo (Cozy at the Unremarkable House)

3. She recites The Raven to herself on the drive in, lists all the state capitals in alphabetical order, and goes through the periodic table.

- In The Gale (IWTB)

4. “I got each flavor of the high-protein kind,” Scully says, gesturing at the cans stacked on her coffee table.

The Ineluctable Tendencies Of Tumbling Toast (Queequeg)

5. Their cars are conspicuous in the nearly empty parking lot, which magnifies the free-floating uncertainty.

Dichotomous (s11e09)

6. Lauren Atwater sits on the edge of the front stoop, drinking coffee out of a worn plastic travel mug she bought a year ago from a Dunkin' Donuts in Abilene

A Dim Capacity For Wings (On the run)

7. That Phoebe Green brought this to her attention is somehow the most rankling thing about it, Scully thinks.

Anthemoessa (Scully - Bedelia - Stella - Clone Club)

8. Sunday morning is pancake morning, and William charges into his parents’ room just shy of 7 am.

Dryad (AU casefile)

9. They’ve been going through the storage room for hours, marveling at the sheer volume of items her mother had held onto.

Madeleine (s10e04)

10. The bodies are small, the heaviest weighing in at forty-seven pounds.

Hic Jacet (Emily)

11. There are ghosts afoot in London, stirred by the excesses of humanity in the face of their own dull eternity.

White Winter Hymnal (post Bad Blood)

12. She finds Mulder behind the house, drowsing in one of the hammocks they’d strung between the ancient oaks that tower above their patch of the planet.

Rags of Light (IWTB)

[marshmallowfairbanks]

A Moment of Peace

Artist: Mighty Oak

[nuwanders]

WIP whenever

no longer paying heed to which day of the week it is. im posting a new chapter this sunday (!!) for the first time in months so i'll be damned if i miss the one wip wednesday i have something to share !

tagged by @dirty-bosmer, thank you! <3

tagging @wispstalk @lucien-lachance @ervona @ghoulsbeard @stormbeyondreality @connortheconceded @falmerbrook @zomboidatomic @gilgamish

The Sea of Ghosts, 4th Morning Star 4E 202 Against the swelling of the sea, the Seglhrafn contracted and groaned, its ribs of oak bending as if to expand around a deep breath. Clench-bolts trembled, hammocks brayed, and magelight danced about the dark hollow of their cabin, for fire was too great a risk with all the rocking of the boat.  “I want to go home,” Onmund moaned, slouching forward to retch once more into his bucket.  “It’ll pass,” said Cassathra soothingly, rubbing circles into his back. She was faring better, though only a little; the smell of bile drifting up from Onmund’s bucket was threatening to tip her own nausea from manageable into overpowering. “It’ll pass.” Their nausea abated, but the storm did not pass; some long hours later they found themselves pulling into the harbour of Dawnstar—or Danstrar, as it was known by the haggard-looking patrons of their inn—where the lashings of rain had frozen into spates of sharp, razor-like snow. Inside, the stench of whale oil clung thick to the walls, to the beards and leathers of old whalers. Dark, slippery gazes followed them from the door all the way to the bar; Cassathra and J’zargo bowed their heads and kept very quiet, whilst Onmund, speaking in Nordic, asked the barkeep for a room.

[myhouseidea]

[tameodesza]

Second Chance

Summary: Shawn needed to see Bret one last time, to see if they could salvage whatever scraps were left of what they once had. AO3 link

a/n: Part 2 of this fic because our boys deserve to be happy! 

Shawn’s cab rolled to a stop, its tires crunching softly against the snowy ground. Freezing winds roared in the night, the force pushing slightly against the cab doors. It was foolish to be out in such conditions. Roads were slippery. Temperatures were at an all-time low. Sidewalks were blanketed by thick sheets of blinding white snow. Trees once full of autumn leaves were bare with branches sprinkled in white.  

With another night of heavy snowfall to be expected, a winter weather advisory was issued, cautioning all residents to remain indoors. But the weather became an afterthought to the blond as more pressing matters clouded his judgment. 

Shawn stepped out into the frigid air, goosebumps rising as soon as the wind bit through his thick jacket. With a trembling hand. he double-checked the familiar string of numbers and words written on a crumpled piece of paper. He’d basically begged Owen for the address, thinking Bret had moved since the breakup. With how things had ended, Shawn wouldn't have blamed the man for wanting a fresh start. But as his eyes traveled to the house before him, there was no doubt that it was the very same house he’d once called home.  

A frosty cloud left Shawn’s mouth as a shiver, brought on by nerves more than the weather conditions, racketed through his frame. He thought he’d never get a chance to see the house again. He hadn't even returned to pack his things after the breakup. Bret denied him the privilege, choosing to send everything to Shawn's parents’ house in a few large boxes.  

The boxes sat for days. Shawn was unwilling to unpack and admit that the relationship was over. But any hope of fixing things died the day he opened those boxes to see that everything was intact. No bleached clothing. No broken jewelry. No scathing letter written in the heat of the moment. Nothing. Bret didn't even have the energy for petty revenge. And that’s when Shawn knew the older man was truly done.  

His brow furrowed as he wondered what Bret’s reaction would be to him showing up uninvited. It’d been about six months since they last spoke. For six long rough months, Shawn struggled to move on, drowning himself in work until it wasn't enough. Forcing himself not to stop by the liquor stores he drove past. Hopping from bed to bed, body to body, until the only hands he could fathom being touched by belonged to the man he was trying so hard to forget.  

But forgetting was hard to do when everything reminded him of Bret.  

When Shawn burnt a piece of toast, he thought back to the times Bret would cook him breakfast, joking that Shawn would burn the house down. When Shawn was late for work, he remembered the times Bret became his personal alarm clock, kissing him awake to make sure he left on time. When he was sick, he thought about the times Bret would team up with his mom to nurse him back to health. 

As unstable as their relationship had been, they shared a lot of great moments that Shawn wished to experience again. He needed to see Bret one last time, to see if they could salvage whatever scraps were left of what they once had. It was selfish. Bret didn't owe him a second chance. Shawn knew that. But he also knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try. 

Shawn was glued to the end of the driveway, not feeling as bold as he had on the cab ride there. Memories, both good and bad, flashed before his eyes, preventing him from crossing that threshold.  For a moment, he stood there gripping his jacket tighter as he took in the state of the house.  

A flower bed once full of thriving lilies and tulips was now a pile of dead stems and dirt. Two oak trees stood tall in the front yard, now missing the hammock that was once tied between them, holding Bret and Shawn on their stargazing nights. Down the driveway was an open garage – Shawn no longer there to remind Bret to close it – revealing Bret’s Jeep that took them on so many fun road trips.  

Shawn took a quick look at the homes around him, his neighbors at one point in time. Then he looked back to Bret's home, noting the lack of Christmas lights. It didn't come as a surprise. Shawn had always been the more festive one of the two when it came to the holidays. 

Christmas Eve was a bit too late to still be decorating, but Shawn had finally found the perfect star to place atop their abnormally tall Christmas tree. He sat on Bret’s shoulders, hoisted up by the man for better reach as he stretched his arms towards the top of the tree.  

Bret tightened his arms around Shawn’s thighs when the blond leaned forward, throwing him out of balance. He huffed, “Remind me again why we had to get the tallest tree in the lot?” 

“Because you love me. Now stand still.” 

“I’m trying. You’re heavy,” Bret said with a strained voice. 

Shawn gasped in fake offense, playing smacking Bret on the top of the head. “Am not. You’re just weak.” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

Bret purposely stumbled and lifted his hands from Shawn’s legs, pretending to drop the blond. Shawn let out a shriek and the star fell from his hands. He wrapped his arms around Bret’s head and gripped his thighs tighter around Bret’s neck. “Babe, stop!” 

Bret snickered and rubbed a soothing hand along one of Shawn’s legs. He turned his head to peck a thigh as he chuckled, “I’m just playing. You know I’d never let you fall.” 

Bret did end up dropping Shawn after slipping on an extension cord, and the better part of Christmas Eve was spent in the ER treating Shawn’s broken finger and sprained wrist.  

A small, sad smile tugged at Shawn’s lips. He remembered how horrible Bret felt about the accident thinking he’d ruined Christmas. He’d been so sweet to make up for it – doting on Shawn, baking him his favorite Christmas cookies, making eggnog, watching Christmas movies on the couch as they forgot about the gifts that sat under the starless tree.  

It was the best Christmas Shawn ever had. But just a year later, the holiday would forever be sullied with what happened with Hunter. 

Another icy breeze picked up, pushing against Shawn’s back as if ushering him down the driveway. Each step he took etched a footprint into the thick snow-covered ground, leaving behind a trail that announced his arrival. 

Bret sat on his couch, arms crossed as he stared absentmindedly into the small flames in the fireplace. He checked the time on the wall – 11:03PM. An annoyed grunt escaped him, knowing it was going to be another late night. 

Since the breakup, sleep never came easy. Bret would toss and turn in his sheets, searching for a comfortable position. But he’d never find it. Shawn wasn't there anymore to be his pillow, to talk to him until he fell asleep, to hold him throughout the night with promises of being there in the morning. It was a tough pill for Bret to swallow realizing he’d never have that again. 

The sound of a light knock carried down the entryway into the living room. It was almost too light as if the person on the other side of the door were afraid of being heard. But when Bret looked into the peephole to find a mop of blond hair and blue eyes, he understood why. 

Bret nearly threw the door open, revealing a shivering, pink-nosed Shawn, wet lashes clumped together from the cold air. His hair was shorter now, shoulder-length, curling slightly at the ends. His eyes looked clearer, hesitant yet determined. His face was fuller, clean-shaven, a stark contrast from the man Bret saw six months ago. 

Bret felt as if the wind had been knocked out of his chest, a wave of shock making him fail to find his words. “Shawn? I-, what-” 

“Please don't shut the door,” Shawn begged. 

Bret was frozen, his hand never wavering from the door handle. He bit back the urge to chide Shawn for being out in this weather. Instead, he asked the question that was burning on his mind. “What are you doing here?” 

Shawn’s heart pounded, heat rushing to his face even in the harsh winter breeze. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn't be here, but...I need to talk to you. Can I come in? Please?”  

The question felt odd for Shawn to ask. He’d never needed permission to enter the home, even before they started dating. But Shawn no longer had the right to waltz into the place like it was his own. Now, he was no different from any other stranger showing up on Bret’s doorstep. 

Bret was at a crossroads. The closure he sought out months ago should've made it easy to shut the door, to turn Shawn around and send him on his way. That had been the main reason for their talk. To tie up loose ends and give each other the gift of letting go. 

But how could he let go when the door to their relationship failed to stay closed? 

For months, their talk lingered on Bret's mind, stirring up old emotions that latched onto him like a leech. He'd sometimes find himself thinking of Shawn. When he had a bad day and just needed a laugh. When he was starving and could use a good southern-cooked meal. When his racing thoughts kept him up at night and he needed someone to whisper loving words to chase the thoughts away.  

He thought the closure would help him find that in someone else, but the only person that even came close to filling that void was Shawn. 

There came a point where Bret had to stop lying to himself. No matter how many times he told himself he was better off without him, there was a larger part of him that wanted to reach out and check up on Shawn. To ask him how life’s going. To ask him if he’d eaten, since Shawn had the tendency to forget. To congratulate him on his sobriety, something he’d learned about from Owen. 

And that was part of the issue – Owen telling Bret little things here and there he’d learned from Shawn after seeing him out in town. Bret would try to look disinterested, but he couldn't hide the curiosity in his eyes when Owen would relay that Shawn had asked but him.  

But then he’d remember the bad times. How much they fought. How much they hurt each other. How Shawn cheated. Their relationship had been too dysfunctional for him to allow it to happen again. 

There was another biting wind, and Shawn’s teeth chattered as he tightened his arms around himself. Bret's concern for the blond was natural, especially knowing how much Shawn hated the cold. 

Against his better judgment, Bret stepped aside and widened the door, the warmth of the home beckoning Shawn closer. “Yeah, sure. Come in. You must be freezing.” 

Shawn all but ran inside, the heat wrapping around him like a warm hug. He was greeted by the familiar smell of the fresh pine blending with the smell of firewood wafting from the living room. But the nostalgia faded as he looked around, noting that the place did not look like what he remembered.  

By the front door was a shoe rack, once a cluttered heap of Bret’s and Shawn’s shoes – mostly Shawn’s - now holding only a single pair of Bret’s snow boots. Walls once covered with random quirky artwork were now bare, stripped of any personality. The living room, once full of vibrant colors and cheeky furniture, was dressed in depressing shades of gray and black. Picture frames that once housed candid photos of happier times in their relationship were now encased with photos of Bret’s family. 

The place felt cold. Lifeless. Empty. It was a casualty left behind in the war their relationship had been. 

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, the short distance feeling miles apart. For a while, the crackle of the flames was all that could be heard. Given the weight of their last conversation, the moment of peace was too delicate to interrupt.  

When the silence became too loud, Bret was first to speak. “You said you came here to talk. Let’s talk.”  

Shawn closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at Bret’s neutral expression. “Right, um. I’ve... had some things on my mind. Things I needed to tell you in person.” 

Shawn searched Bret’s eyes, looking for any notes of anger. Yet, Bret’s face remained neutral, voice even-toned as he said, “Ok. Go ahead.” 

“I-” Shawn blanked, the speech he’d prepared on the way there long forgotten under Bret’s tense gaze. He spoke from the heart. “I hate how things ended, Bret. The relationship, the breakup...it was tough on the both of us. We needed the time apart to work on ourselves. To heal on our own without the other person hindering it. It took some time for me to realize that. But Bret.” Shawn sighed, deciding to lay it all out. “I’ve got to be honest. Seeing you at the cafe, it gave me hope. It made me wonder how things could be if we tried again.” 

Bret’s brow lifted as he watched Shawn think over his next words. “Shawn.” His tone was full of warning, a silent plea that went ignored. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is...I want to give us another shot. And I know I have some nerve asking for a second chance, but-” 

Shawn was cut off when Bret abruptly stood from the couch. He furthered his distance from the blond, pacing in front of the fireplace with one hand on his hip and the other covering his mouth in thought. 

Shawn stood with a worried frown, rounding the coffee table to get closer. “Bret-” 

“Stop.” Bret’s outstretched hand made Shawn halt in place. Bret ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “We can’t keep doing this to ourselves.” 

“Doing what?” 

“This. Not letting go. Crawling back to each other because it’s what’s most comfortable. It never fucking works, Shawn. Don’t you see that? Why would now be any different?” 

“But...I mean, if we try-” 

“We’ve tried already. Countless times. And every single time we came out worse than the last. It’s a lost cause.”   

The lump in Shawn’s throat grew thick, but he willed himself to swallow with a nod. “Ok. Ok, fine. But I need to hear it from you plain and clear. If you tell me to leave, if you tell me to walk out that door, that you never want to see my face again, I’ll go.” 

A silence fell over them, their eyes as intense as the flames dancing beside them. Shawn knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he needed to hear it from Bret, a blatant rejection, if he wanted him out of his life.  

Bret forced himself to look away from Shawn’s glassy eyes. It was unfair. It was so unfair. He’d tried so many times to shut Shawn out of his life, but the blond always found a way back in. Telling Shawn to fuck off should’ve came easy. But the battle between Bret’s mind and heart prevented him from doing so.  

“Bret. Look at me.” Shawn was determined to stand his ground, to demand an answer. The least they owed each other was honesty. But then he saw the pain and conflict in Bret’s eyes, and the last thing Shawn ever wanted to do was hurt him again.  

Shawn took a step back. “I’m sorry. I- I'll leave. You’ll never hear from me again. I promise.” 

He continued to back away, his heart dropping with each step. He was slow to turn around as he looked at Bret one final time, never wanting to forget the man that became the love of his life. It hurt letting go of someone he loved so much, but if letting go would make Bret happy, then that’s what Shawn would do.  

When Shawn turned away, Bret gave a defeated sigh, his shoulders sinking like a bullied child. Desperation was loud in his voice. “Shawn. Stay. Please.”  

Shawn turned around with hopeful eyes. He followed Bret back to the couch, a sensitive conversation now hanging in the air. But the conversation was slow to come as both men sat quietly, neither knowing where to start. 

Suddenly, Bret stood from the couch and left the room. Shawn’s mind was quick to spiral as he heard the man head upstairs. Maybe Bret was just being nice. Maybe he wanted Shawn to stay just so he wouldn't be out in that weather. There was nothing more to it.   

Then he heard Bret coming downstairs before entering the living room with a small black box in his hand. Bret sat on the couch, this time a bit closer to the blond, and placed the box on the center of the coffee table before sliding it over towards Shawn. 

“What’s that,” Shawn asked, confusion laced in his voice.  

“Open it.” 

Shawn slowly reached for the box. His hands felt along the smooth material before placing it into his lap. When he opened it, his jaw dropped. Resting inside was the hand-woven pink and black bracelet Shawn had made for Bret for their one-year anniversary. It looked the same as the last time he saw Bret wear it – pristine, not a thread out of place.  

Shawn’s wide blue eyes met Bret’s soft browns. “You kept it.” 

“Yeah, I...I couldn't get rid of it.” 

“Why?”  

Bret shook his head, eyes focused on the bracelet. “Because it was the only reminder I had that our love was real.” 

Shawn gaped, his memories running rampant as he remembered the day he gifted it to Bret – his shaky hands hiding the bracelet behind his back, his nerves when he whipped it out for Bret to see, Bret’s appreciative smile, Bret promising to always take care of it.  

It’d been a special day for them. It was a milestone in their relationship as their love grew stronger and their bond grew deeper. But Shawn had broken that bond, which was why he couldn't understand why Bret would want to hold onto it. 

“But, but I thought-” Shawn was at a loss for words. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.” 

“That’s what I kept telling myself. I thought being away from you would clear my head. I thought it would give me the strength to throw this away, to move on, but...” 

Shawn’s breath hitched when Bret shifted closer, their thighs nearly touching. Bret hesitated before reaching out to grab one of Shawn’s hands. They both felt it. The electricity that coursed through them, shining as bright as the love they once shared.  

Bret knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He should back out. He should be logical and think about how this was going to make it harder to let Shawn go. But being logical was no different from following his heart when they both led to heartbreak.  

Instead of denying himself of what he wanted, Bret indulged. He allowed himself to stroke his thumb on the back of Shawn’s hand, to soak in the smell of Shawn's sweet cologne, to allow himself to be honest with the blond, just as Shawn had been with him. 

“Shawn, I- I can’t let it go because I still think about you. And I...I still love you.” 

Shawn’s voice quivered. “You still love me?” Bret nodded and Shawn felt another lump form. “I love you too, Bret. I never stopped. I wanted to tell you that the last time we spoke, but I thought you wouldn't want to hear it.” 

Bret tested their boundaries, placing his other hand on Shawn’s cheek and pressing his forehead against the blond's. They both closed their eyes, savoring the moment. “You’re right. I wouldn't have. But only because it would've made it harder to leave.” Bret’s lips ghosted over Shawn’s as he whispered, “We shouldn't be doing this.” 

But Bret didn't pull away, and a small smile graced Shawn’s lips at the realization. Shawn stayed put, basking in the intimacy and following Bret’s lead, willing to go wherever the man took him. But a choked sob pulled him out of the moment. He opened his eyes, not expecting to see Bret looking at him with tears collecting in the corner of his eyes. 

“Bret?” Shawn's voice was soft with concern. But Bret broke upon hearing it, lowering his head onto Shawn’s shoulder as he silently cried. Shawn immediately pulled him into his arms. “Hey. Hey, shhh. It’s ok. What’s wrong? Bret, please talk to me.”  

Bret was slow to answer as he tried to calm himself down. He choked out, “I can't go through this again, Shawn. The hurt. The pain. I barely made it out last time.” 

Shawn teared up himself. In all their years of being friends and dating, Shawn had only seen Bret cry a handful of times. It hurt even more knowing that he was the cause of it. 

Shawn soothed Bret as best as he could, remembering all the things he used to do to get Bret to calm down. He rocked him gently, ran his hand along his back, massaged his scalp, buried Bret’s head into his neck as he whispered comforting words into his ear. 

It wasn't long before the tears stopped and Bret matched Shawn’s slowed breathing. “Sorry.” 

“No, don’t apologize. Tell me what's on your mind. I’m listening.” 

Bret gripped tighter onto the back of Shawn’s jacket. “I want you so bad, Shawn. I do. But...I just don’t want to make the same mistake. I don't want to rush into things like we always did.” 

Shawn hummed in acknowledgment. He dabbed his misty eyes with the back of his hand before pulling Bret out of his neck. He placed Bret’s face into his hands, thumbing away the streaks on his cheeks. “I’m sorry for what I did, Bret. I’m sorry for making you lose your trust in me. I know it’s going to take some time to build that trust up again, but please believe me when I say I promise to never put you through that again. I promise, Bret. You hear me?” 

Bret gave a single nod, eyes downcast. “I want to believe you, Shawn.” 

“I know. I won't force you to.” Shawn brought his hands down to Bret’s. “It’ll take a lot of work, but I’m willing to try if you are.” 

Bret looked into Shawn’s eyes, trying to catch the blond in a lie. They’d been through too much for him not to be cautious. But the sincerity in Shawn’s eyes, the love in that deep ocean of blue was too much for Bret to ignore. “We’ll need to take it slow. Starting over means starting fresh. Getting to know each other again. Lots of time has passed, and I’m not the same man as I once was.” 

“Neither am I. I’ve changed for the better, believe it or not,” Shawn said lightly. “I’m different now. Sober. I’m in a better head space. I...I’ve been going to therapy.” 

Bret couldn't hide his surprise. “You? In therapy?” 

“Well when you say it like that,” Shawn chuckled, happy to hear Bret let out a humored breath of his own. “But I get it. It wasn’t exactly my choice. Did it to make my parents happy.” 

Bret hesitated to ask, “Why were they concerned?” 

Shawn looked aside as unpleasant memories came to the forefront. “Let’s just say, I didn't cope well after everything ended.” 

The breakup had taken its toll on Shawn, enough to worry his parents about his behavior. It was the closest to rock bottom Shawn had gotten – kicked out from Bret’s place, living with his parents, drinking all day, getting high on whatever he could get his hands on, fired from his job because he was too depressed to show up to work. It was tough. 

Shawn hated thinking back on those days, remembering how much he stressed out his family. Therapy was the least he could do to thank them for getting him back on his feet. 

“I’m not perfect. But I’ve been getting better. I would love to show you the new Shawn if you’d let me.” 

Bret gave a soft smile, the lines near his mouth creasing in the way Shawn always adored. “I’d love to meet him. But can you promise me something?” 

“Anything.” 

“If things between us ever get as bad as it was before, we’ll go to couple’s therapy. For real this time. No walking out after one session.” 

Shawn answered bashfully, “Ok. For real this time.” 

“One more thing.” Bret reached for the bracelet that was now tucked between them. He placed it into Shawn’s hand then held out his arm. “Could you put this on for me?” 

Shawn beamed ear to ear as he brought Bret’s hand closer. He slipped the bracelet down Bret’s hand onto his wrist where it rightfully belonged. “I feel like I’m proposing,” he joked. 

Bret chuckled and placed his forehead back onto Shawn’s. “We’re not quite ready for rings, but I’ll get you a matching bracelet. How does that sound?” 

With his lips inches from Bret’s, Shawn said, “I’d like that.” 

And like magnets drawn to opposite poles, their lips met, moving in a slow rhythm just right for them. They fit perfectly together, their kiss putting together broken pieces like glue. It was a soft kiss, but it carried so much emotion behind it. It was a moment both men thought they’d never get to share again.  

They pulled away to look into each other’s eyes, both looking for reassurance. When Bret dived back in, Shawn accepted him with no hesitation, and they both knew this was where they were meant to be. In each other’s arms, and on each other’s lips, they were home. 

Their mouths moved in sync, melodic in their own harmony. Tongues wrestled, not for dominance, but eager to explore the other’s mouth with familiarity. Heads turned at the right moment for a better angle. Hands traveled curiously across each other’s body, desperately grabbing onto the other for stability. 

Shawn was breathless when Bret pulled away, peppering kisses along his neck. A sly smile spread onto Shawn’s lips. “I thought we were taking it slow.” 

Shawn could feel Bret’s smile against his skin. “Not that slow.” 

No other words needed to be said as their bodies expressed their feelings. Bret guided Shawn to lay flat on the couch. Clothes were removed layer by layer, goosebumps melting away, bodies warmed by each other’s skin. 

Shawn’s body welcomed Bret like he’d never left, allowing Bret to take him right there on the couch. It wasn’t the most romantic setting, but it didn't matter. They didn't need rose-covered satin sheets or candlelight to set the mood. They just needed each other.  

It was raw. It was real. It was them.  

The sex wasn't rushed. They took the time to remember every inch of each other. Bret rocked slowly into Shawn. Shawn arched his back, holding tightly onto Bret. Bret refused to let go, his arms cradling Shawn like a precious gem. Moans blended together, sounding like music to their ears. They exchanged whispers of ‘I love you’ as they came undone, the phrase no longer foreign on their lips. 

Shawn’s discarded jacket was lazily placed on top of them in their afterglow. They cuddled, sharing sweet kisses and hushed promises for a better future until they fell asleep, serenaded by the snapping flames in the fireplace.