#and i am sitting here on my ass in my room watching these thousands of people speak and protest and scream and remain completely fucking

[even-if-in-another-time]

.

[taintedcigs]

✦ POLAROIDS | perv!eddie x reader ✦

part II is HERE!

wc: 2k+

pairing: perv!eddie munson x (kinda perv)!reader

warnings: 18+ !!smut, smut smut!!, MINORS DNI!! absolutely no minors!! male m*sturbation, or*l (male receiving), PERV!EDDIE, praising!! panty-stealing perv!eddie. slight dubcon, this is kinda dark so if this kind of stuff bothers u DO NOT READ!! i am not responsible for the media you decide to consume!!! JUST OVERALL FILTH MINORS DNI!!!

summary: eddie knows it's wrong to go through your drawers and steal your panties, but he can't help it, especially when he has a great idea on what exactly to do with them.

authors note: okay I CAVED IM SORRY BUT i cannot stop thinking about perv!eddie, and more specifically i cannot stop thinking about perv!eddie who's obsessed with stealing your panties... this is proofread but i only read it once so pls ignore any mistakes !! enjoy this filth that im ashamed to post for being down this bad for EDDIE!! ALSO YES THOSE ARE TAYLOR SWIFT'S 1989 POLAROIDS I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF WHENEVER I THINK ABOUT POLAROIDS 1989 COMES INTO MY MIND YES I HAVE ISSUES AND IM OBSESSED W TAYLOR SWIFT YES I EXIST!!!

eddie is a pervert.

or at least he feels like a pervert.

he's not proud of it, but he literally can't help himself when you're always around him.

it started out innocent, he would catch a glimpse of you in the hallways, enjoying the way your pretty giggles were infectious, making him smile immediately.

but then it turned into something else, almost like an infatuation, he was so addicted to being around you that he couldn't help it.

from little things to seeing your skirt flip up, to watching your tits bounce up and down with every curb eddie hit "accidentally", to the way he enjoyed you sitting on his lap while the two of you watched a movie, your ass shifting against his cock that made him hard immediately, to the way you made his mind fuzzy when you licked your ice cream, giggling as you swiped your finger, extending your finger so that eddie could also taste it.

it was as if you were teasing him, and it was driving him crazy, everything you did, eddie was obsessed with.

it was fine up until the point he started coming over to your house. it was as if something had taken over him, the first time he saw your room is when he lost it. it was filled with all of the posters of the bands he liked, you had shown it off to him like it was nothing, telling him that you liked listening to whatever he liked.

eddie knew then and there that he needed you in his life. forever.

when you left the room he couldn't help but go through your things, a huge smile plastered on his face as he saw the picture of the two of you, tucked to the side of your mirror.

then he started going through your drawers, he knew it was wrong, and he knew you could catch him at any minute, but it gave him this rush that he couldn't help but be excited about.

his eyes almost rolled into the back of his head when he saw your lingerie, the pink lacy set you had was enough to give him a heart attack.

and he couldn't help but take one, just one he promised himself, he knew it was a lie, he knew he would come back for more, but he stuffed it into the back of his jean pockets, knowing that he would be jerking off to them while thinking of you.

and when stealing your panties became a regular thing eddie knew he was fucked. he would sneak into your room when you were not around, stealing those cute little pink lacy panties you had a thousand of that you always wore with your tight little skirts.

he would jerk off with them, imagining your tight cunt as he fucked the material, finishing off inside as he released his warm load in the soft material. imagining how good it would be to see you wearing them, your cunt covered in his jizz, the thought of that alone would make him go feral.

and soon he would get so comfortable stealing them, cleaning them, and returning them that he would notice how careless you were with them.

he had stolen from you countless times before, and not once had you noticed, you kept going lingerie shopping with him because of how you always lost your panties, it was a win-win situation for him.

this caused him get a bit more comfortable, and soon enough, he was now in your room when you told him you'd be taking a quick shower, he was hurrying to go through your drawers, and he smirked at the sight of the cute little heart-shaped panties, remembering these panties from the day you wore that tight little black dress, showing off your curves and ass every time you bent over to pick up something eddie 'accidentally' dropped.

as he gets on your bed to engulf himself in your scent fully, polaroids on your bedside catch his eye, he slowly reaches for them, and his eyes bulge at the countless pictures of you in a bikini, they were all taken by nancy when you, nancy and robin went to that girl's spring break, leaving him behind.

his sadness at the time of you leaving is washed all away when he sees those pictures. each picture sends more blood rushing to his already aching cock, he curses and groans as he quickly unbuckles his belt, his cock stirs and hardens in his boxers.

and he's quick to release this tension as his angry hard cock springs free out of his boxers, plopping against his stomach.

he stretches the panties against the girth of his cock, and then wraps the panties around his pink tip, pre-cum beading out of his slit, while his other hand is holding the polaroids, examining every part of it.

the polaroid is enough to put a clear image in his mind, the first picture is you smiling, your tits are bursting out of your bikini and the only thing he can picture is how good they would look when you were stuffed with his cock, begging and crying for more beneath him, the way your breasts would bounce with every thrust is enough to cause a low groan out of him.

he's slow to stroke himself with the soft material, a part of him wants you to catch him doing this, a part of him wants you to see how crazy he is for you, he wants to see your shocked face as he fucks your precious panties, and a part of him wants you to help him out, he doesn't want this to be over so soon.

he goes over to the next picture, this time you're laying down on your stomach, your whole frame is in the picture and your ass is sticking out from your thong-like bikini, you face the camera as your gaze is dark, so filled with lust that he groans again, tugging at his cock harder with your panties as he imagines spanking your ass, leaving handprints all over your cheeks.

his fantasies intensify now as he imagines your soft hands over his rough calloused ones, giggling as you stroke him and kiss his angry pink tip. 'mmm, you're s'big, eds.' he imagines you giggling.

he gets to the next polaroid, and the sight alone is enough to make him spill his load all over the picture.

you are looking up innocently as you stick your tongue out, he has no idea why nancy would have this sexy photoshoot with you but he's not complaining as he forcefully tugs your panties along with his cock, his pumps getting intense.

'what d'you want me to do, eds?' he imagines you batting your eyelashes at him as you are standing between his shaking thighs,

'd'you need me to suck you off?' he imagines you asking with your doe eyes.

'yes, doll, need your pretty little lips wrapped around my cock.' he pictures your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock, taking all of him.

'f-f-fuck, just like that, pretty girl.' he groans, praising the imaginary you.

'y'like that eds, y'like me sucking you off?' he winces at your words, his hand began to fist his cock harder, beads of sweat dripping on his forehead from the way he imagined you, he needed to cum.

's'big eds, it's s'fuckin' big, hmmm' you purr, even in his fantasy, eddie is needy.

'need you so bad, princess.' his voice is strained from his groans, he's fucking himself so hard against your panties that the material is straining him, giving him a mix of pleasure and pain.

he imagines holding your hair in a tight grip, pushing your head further as you gag around his cock, all teary-eyed as you look up at him, the image of your saliva mixing with your salty tears causing a strained moan out of him.

'y'gonna cum for me eds? paint my throat with your cum?' the way he imagines you with your doe-eyes and your filthy words is too much for him, his knuckles are white as they abuse his poor aching cock.

'yes baby, need to fill your throat with my cum.' he whimpers now, he feels pathetic, so pathetic, fucking your panties as he's ready to cum all over your polaroid pictures, just so he could show them to you, tell you how fucking pretty you look covered in his jizz.

he imagines you hollowing out your cheeks, as you take all of him with your pretty little lips, his huge cock hitting the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him, and your hands stroking whatever's left of him, massaging his balls, and eddie's eyes roll in the back of his head.

just then, he hears the shower noise turn off, and he knows he doesn't have much time left.

'need your cum, eds. need to taste you.' the imagination is more than enough to get him closer, his grip on your panties is so tight that he can feel his cock ache, he needs to release himself, and he needs to do it now.

'gonna cum, baby, s'good, princess, doing s'good.' his thighs tremble, as eddie's hand sped up now, he bucked his hips forward in a rough movement as the image of you beneath his thighs taking him all was etched into his mind.

'f-f-fuck, gonna fill that sweet mouth of yours.' he groans, and he tugs on his cock faster and faster, his thumb swiping over the tip messily as he releases his warm load into the hem of your panties, animalistic groans leaving his lips.

'take it all, baby, shit.' he murmurs as his cock twitches in your panties, his sticky load covering all the soft material.

the sound of the bathroom door opening causes panic out of him before he can even ride out his climax he places the polaroids on the bedside and then he places the panties next to your clean clothes, getting dressed as he attempts to look nonchalant, sitting on your bed.

'sorry i took so long.' you giggle as you enter, and eddie just hums, his mind still hazy from what happened and the blood is rushing to his cock again as you stand in front of him with a tiny towel wrapped around your body.

your legs are shining and the towel is so tight that he can see the curve of your ass, and your breasts are so pushed together that eddie wants to curse himself for being this perverted about you.

he straightens himself, trying to appear as normal as you walk over to him.

'can you turn around, i'm gonna change.' you murmur, heat rising to your cheeks.

he awkwardly nods as he places himself in front of the mirror, a smirk appearing on his face as he watches you putting on the panties that was covered with his warm cum.

he expects you to have a shocked face, turn around and accuse him, or he expects you to believe that you got so aroused that you immediately soaked your panties, and he thinks he could help you with that.

but what he doesn't expect is to hear you whimper, and his head shots up at the sound, 'mhmm' you almost groan and the blood is quick to rush to eddie's cock again, he's hard as a rock.

'it's not warm enough.' you hum, as eddie turns to face you, his brows knit together in confusion.

'w-what?' he stutters almost, you shrug.

'next time i'd prefer if you actually came in me.' you say nonchalantly, and eddie's jaw almost opens at your words.

his mind is about to explode, he's stuttering, he wants to apologize, but at the same time he wants to know how you knew, he's speechless.

'i- i'm sorry.' he stutters as he attempts to get closer to you, a smirk forming on your face.

'how did you know?' he asks in a timid voice, he can't help but admit how much this excites him.

'oh, eds, who do you think put those polaroids in there?'

final author's note: OKAY IM SORRY ITS A BIT CHEESY BUT PLSPLPLS PLEASEE LMK IF YOU WANT A PT.2, my asks are open! request away <3 ily all hope yall enjoyed this filth omg mwah xo, em <3

[spidernuggets]

reader showing jason her plushie collection?

Jason Todd x Reader

"So, you don't think any of this is dumb?"

"Without a shadow of a doubt, sweetheart"

You didn't hear your front door open, though. You'd given your boyfriend, Jason, a spare key to your apartment for emergencies.

You were in your apartment, stuffing your face with chips, watching a movie on your laptop. You had your favourite stuffed animal wedged in between your arm and your cheek, laughing at the comedic one-liners that a character said.

In this case, you had your bedroom door locked because never in a million years would you show your boyfriend your plushie collection.

Most were animals, consisting of cows, bats, sharks, cats, dogs, and more. You had probably 2 or 3 Jellycat plushies, too.

Your most favourite plushie besides the animals was the small bodied, big headed Red Hood plush you found a while ago. You've seen so many Batman, Nightwing, and Robin merchandise, and you always sulked when you came to the conclusion there were no Red Hood merch.

So you took matters into your own hands.

Sure, the stitching and stuffing was a little messy, but you managed to create your own little Red Hood plushie that is currently sitting comfortably beside your laptop so it's easy to see.

Embarrassingly, you'd give it kisses here and there for nights that you worry that Jason might not come back for patrol. But luckily, he always does.

But once again, you'd never show Jason any of this. You're a grown ass adult, living your own life, you have your own place, a full-time job. Plus, your boyfriend is a 6 ft something, 200 pound something vigilante who busts crime and kicks ass.

Why the fuck would he want to date someone who owns thousands of plushies, plus their own homemade one. He'd probably be too embarrassed to be seen with someone like that.

You flinched when you heard a twist on your doorknob.

"Babe? You there?" Jason called out. You heard the slight panic in his voice. You didn't question it since the conversation both of you had about Jason always being paranoid that his occupation would lead you into danger while you're in a relationship with him.

You slammed your laptop shut, frantically looking at the plushies scattered all over your room. Shit.

"Uh- Yeah! Just a sec!" You yelled back, your voice cracking in the process.

You and Jason have been together long enough for him to know when you're panicking. He knocked again. "You okay in there, mama?"

You tripped over yourself, luckily not making much noise, as you shoved all your teddies and plushies and toys into your cramped, small closet, not having time to organise it neatly like usual.

"Yeah, yeah! Just kind of messy in here!" You say as you try to shut your closet.

You rushed to your door, unlocking it and smiling up to your boyfriend in front of you.

"Hi!" You quickly say, awkwardly leaning against your door frame.

"Hi to you too, sweetheart," he replies, looking sloghtly confused. "Why are you out of breath?"

"Oh- I.." You cleared your throat. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"Am I not allowed to?..." He asks, tilting his head to the side.

"You are! You are.. I just thought you'd be busy today."

Jason shrugged. "Hmm. So what were you doing before?"

Your shoulders relaxed as you steadied your breath. "Just watching a movie. Wanna continue with me?"

Jason smiled, kissing your forhead. "Of course, sweetheart."

As you steooed aside from the door to let Jason into your room, from the corner of your eye, you see your closet door slightly open, an ear of your bunny teddy sticking out a little bit.

As Jason went to go open your laptop, he follows your swift movements to shut your closet door.

"What was that?" He asked.

You turned to him as your eyebrows raised high in panic. "What was what?" You ask back quickly. "I was just... y'know.. closing my door. It's nothing, " you say with uncertainty.

"Babe..."

"Yeah?"

"You always have your eyebrows raised when you lie," Jason says, his voice turning monotone and serious.

Your eyebrows immediately go back down. "I- I'm not lying," you stuttered.

Jason walked towards you, stopping right in front of your closet. "Sweetheart? Can you open it up for me?" He asks, only hoping that he's being overdramatic and she has nothing to hide from him.

"Why?" You asked in a small, quiet voice.

"Well, why wouldn't you?"

"Well, there's nothing interesting in there so..."

"I thought we agreed, no secrets," Jason said, getting upset, his emotions starting to escalate. "What? Is there a guy in there?" He says, his insecurities getting the better of him. "You cheating on me? 's that why your door was locked? Why you were running around in here?" He quickly asks all at once.

Your eyes widen. "Jason!" You exclaimed. "I would never cheat on you! You know that!"

Jason takes a breath, calming down. "I... I know. 'm sorry- I'm sorry, baby, I know you wouldn't, I was just being stupid. Had a long day. Let's just watch your movie, hm?" He says, dragging himself across the room once more, sottomg on your bed, getting your movie ready.

You sighed. "No. Jason, you're right. We don't keep secrets," you say as Jason's head shoots up.

"No, no, no! I didn't mean 'it's true, I'm cheating on you', I meant..." You hesitated. You sighed once more before opening your closet, revealing the pile of plushies tumbling down to the ground.

Jason's eyebrows furrowed as he got up, inspecting the toys spread out in front of him. "What? What am I looking at? These things have drugs in them?" He asks.

You give him a confused look. "What? No. It's just my plushie collection," you claimed.

"And...?"

Both you and Jason were utterly confused.

Was he not shocked? Embarrassed at your collection?

Was this your big secret? A bunch of teddies?

"Is... Is it not stupid? Having a shit ton of plushies? Like... I'm a grown ass adult owning children's toys. You really wanna be dating someone that could bring down your... I don't know. Tough guy persona?" You ask.

And Jason laughs. "Sweetheart, what? It's not stupid. I have at least one teddy I kept since I was a kid back in the manor. And I'm sure Dick has more than you," he steps closer to you, cradling your face in his large hands, placing a kiss on your forhead. "And they seem that much to you too. Wanna introduce me to some of them?"

And that question got you eyes twinkling. You're sure you saw heaven. And Jason couldn't help but smile at your excited reaction.

So you started picking up some of your plushies, introducing them to Jason.

You were both sitting on your bed as you described how you fell in love with an octopus plushie at a charity shop until something caught the corner of Jason's eye.

"Oh my god..." he lowly says.

"What?" You ask, suddenly curious.

Jason gets up and heads to you pile of plushies, picking up the clumsily stitched Red Hood toy of him. Your face flushed in embarrassment.

"Do not!... say anything. Don't let it get to your ego, okay? No stores had any Red Hood merchandise..." You pathetically say.

Jason chuckles as he goes over to you, planting a gentle peck on your cheek. "It's cute. You're cute," he says, his index finger under your chin, moving your face towards his as he kisses your lips.

"So you don't think any of this is dumb?" You ask as you break the kiss.

UGHHh thank you for this request, Anon 🙏 This request made me haooy seeing as i have a small plushie collection of my own!!

Jason smiles. "Without a shadow of a doubt, sweetheart," he says as he pulls you in for anotber tender kiss.

[spenceragnewfics]

Could u do a fic where the reader is playing fnaf for a smosh games video and gets scared and Spencer comforts them? Ty!!

I loved this idea! It's so cute and I hope you love it as much as I do!!

FNAF ISN’T FUN! | Spencer Agnew x F!Reader

Warnings: FNAF, jumpscare mentioned, crying

Summary: The resident scream fanatic, Y/N, is ready to conquer the FNAF franchise...until she realizes how scary it really is.

Word Count: 678

“What’s up every pony! It’s your favorite scream fanatic, Y/N, here! Today, I was basically forced by my mean boyfriend to play Five Nights at Freddy’s today.” She says, starting the livestream. Alex Tran’s laugh can be heard as Spencer looks at her shocked, “I did not force you to play this! You were practically whining because you didn’t get to play them with Shayne and Amanda.” She rolls her eyes at his words before sending him a charming smile.

“Whatever, anyway, the plan is for me to try to complete as many of the games as I can. I’m only going to night five because I don’t think we’d have time for me to do night six on all the games.” She explains as she starts to read the chat. Y/N is a natural entertainer, she’s not in many videos as everyone agreed she does her best stuff when she’s able to interact with the audience. So, she has a weekly livestream show she does on the gaming channel. She usually has some of the other cast on but a good amount of the livestreams are just her in front of the camera and her riffing off with Spencer and Alex behind the camera.

“As most of you know, I am called the scream fanatic, because everytime I play a horror game for y’all, I scream like a baby and do it many many times. So, I don’t think that will change today, but maybe I can get upgraded to scream princess. What do y’all think?” She asks, a teasing smile on her face. The chat agrees that she might just get the upgrade based on how she has been in the past.

Taking a deep breath, she sends a nervous smile to the people watching then to Alex and Spencer. “Let’s get this party started, ponies.” She says before putting on her headphones then opening up the game. Her heart starts to beat faster immediately when the first game opens up.

“So, we are playing the games in release order. Not timeline order, we’re not doing a Marvel thing here.” She jokes before starting the first night. The first couple of nights go smoothly, nothing too crazy and she can sense most of the jumpscares so no screaming.

That is until she gets to night four. “Okay, chat, we are on night four! So far, I have been doing amazing.” She says, checking the cameras and waiting. Everything is going smoothly until she hears foxy running. “Shit, shit, shit.” She mutters as her brain pauses for a second before moving to close the doors but, it’s too late.

Foxy screams as he pops himself into the room and Y/N screams bloody murder as she throws the headphones off. She curles herself into a ball as some tears start to fall out of her eyes, “That was way worse than I thought it would be.” She says, her voice shaky.

Soon she feels familiar warm arms wrapping around her as Spencer moves his chair to be by her. “It’s okay, love. You’re okay.” He assures her, gently caressing her hair as he holds her. “I feel like such a baby.” She whines, forgetting they aren’t at home and are broadcasting to thousands of people.

“You’re not a baby. You just got scared is all. It’s natural.” He assures her, resting his chin on the top of her head as she leans into him.

Alex is smiling to himself as he watches the chat go crazy with seeing the two being so sweet together.

“Hey, guys. Hate to break up the love fest but we are still streaming.” He says, looking at the couple in front of him. “Do you wanna keep going?” Spencer asks as Y/N moves to sit up straight. “Yeah, just stay here?” She asks, grabbing his hand. “Of course.” He kisses the back of her hand before they both turn their attention back to the game.

“Okay, Foxy, you’re ass is mine!”

[sorrowsofsilence]

memento mori • n.s

pairing: noah sebastian x gn!reader

words: 1.6k

warnings: ANGST, grief, loss, death, mourning (this is kinda heavy, please do not feel like you need to read im getting out feelings)

summary: "if you're watching this, im dead."

note: i think i was feeling some kinda way because i don't really know where this came from lol, but here's a quick little blurb if you enjoy angst <3

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING A REAL PERSON IN A FICTIONAL SCENARIO! I AM NOT IMPLYING THEY WOULD ACT THIS WAY OR DO THE THINGS IN MY FANFICTION- IT IS FOR FUN, AND IT IS SIMPLY FICTION! <3

I sat in front of my computer screen, shell-shocked as the haunting words of his last video echoed in my ears.

"If you're watching this, I'm dead."

My heart clenched at his words, chest tightening as my breath caught in my throat. My room around me felt cold, too large and too empty, even with the myriad of knick-knacks and photos that adorned every available surface.

With trembling hand I reached out a to replay the video, but hesitated before I could do it. His face was frozen on the screen, eyes full of sorrow and resignation. A face I had fallen in love with; a stranger’s face that had brought so much unanticipated joy into my life.

His voice echoed through the silence again, the words heavy with grief and regret.

For what? For whom?

Refreshing the page, I watched his face light up the screen- his brown eyes warm and laughing, a stark contrast to the somber look from the end of the video. I watched as he talked about his day, his love for music, his appreciation of movies and games. It was all so normal, so Noah. It was easy to forget, just for a moment, what the end of the video would bring.

Then came the shift, where his bright demeanour began to fall away, replaced by a solemnity that felt unnatural on his usually vibrant face.

"I have some news," he began, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his words. Even though I’d already heard him say it, part of me still hoped the next words out of his mouth would be different.

"But before I tell you," he said with a long pause, staring directly into the camera as if he knew I was watching, “I want you to remember the fun we had. I want you to remember the laughter, the joy...how I always kicked ass at super smash," His voice wavered with a stiff laugh, vulnerable and raw.

"I want you to remember me as I was, not as I will be."

My vision blurred with tears as his gaze bore into mine through the screen. Pulling my knees to my chest in an attempt at comfort while sitting at my desk, I choked back the tears that threatened to spill.

His words, even though for thousands, felt painfully intimate; like we were alone in an empty world, sharing a private moment of heart-wrenched farewell.

The long-haired brunette continued, "If you're watching this, I'm dead."

The harsh reality of his words hit me again like a physical blow, the tears falling as saliva grew in my mouth, lips quickening.

I watched his face crumple with sorrow before he collected himself, taking a deep breath. An inked hand came up to rub his face, as though he was struggling with words.

"There's no easy way to say it," he said, voice trembling with held-back tears, "I've been sick for a while... I didn't want anyone to worry. So, I kept it to myself."

Taking my sleeve, I rubbed my eyes as he continued.

"But now..." His voice wavered, "Now, I'm gone."

I watched in helpless agony as he tried to smile through his tears, a raw attempt to offer comfort, that he may have needed more.

The image of Noah, smiling despite everything, was a painful reminder of just how much I had lost; what the people in his life had lost.

“And I’m sorry.”

And here he was, apologizing to us for dying.

His brave facade crumbled then, and he broke down, weeping openly on screen. Noah’s sobs echoed through the quiet room, filling the spaces between my cries. I wanted to reach out to comfort him, but he was no longer there…only his digital ghost remained, memorialized within the code.

"I don't want you to mourn me," he said, his voice merely a whisper. "I want you to celebrate me for the life I've lived, and not the life I've lost."

His words knotted in my chest, a cruel irony in the face of the anguish that strung me. How was I to celebrate him? When every fibre of my being felt shredded by grief?

"You’ve been my friends," he continued softly, “and in a weird way, my family. You’ve joined streams with me through my best and worst times. I read every comment, every message; you didn’t know it but you gave me strength and laughter when I needed it most.”

Tears welled anew in my eyes. The impact of his sincere words left my heart racing, and limbs warming in misery.

"I need you to promise me something," he choked out after a moment, his gaze unwavering from the camera.

I sniffed, wiping my eyes again, his plea holding an intensity that made it impossible for me to look away

"Promise me you won't let my story end with my death," he said, sharing a small smile.

His voice tremored, yet it was filled with a surprising steeliness. "Promise me that you'll remember the joy, the laughter... the love."

His eyes held a fervour that pierced my heart; a vow exchanged under the silent witness of testimonial sorrow.

"I want you to take whatever you’ve found in my videos. Every smile, every piece of advice- every Mortal Kombat combo,” He paused, swallowing harshly with a dismissed laugh. "I want you... I want you to live."

The weight of his words hung in the air like a solemn promise. Live. He wanted me to live, us - fully and completely

"Love generously," he whispered, "Don’t take being here for granted.”

Noah smiled, nodding towards me, “You are worthy, and you are cherished. You make an impact on this earth, whether you believe so or not. You have a purpose.”

I continued to sob as his words flowed out of the speakers, dancing through the room in a mournful ballad.

His brown eyes bore into mine from the screen as he tucked a strand of brunette hair behind his ears.

"But most of all," he added, his voice barely more than a whisper now, "I want you to know that even though I'm not physically here anymore, I'll always be with you."

His words wrapped around my body in a comforting hug, and I squeezed my knees closer to my chest. As I rested my chin upon them, letting the tears stain my jeans I shared a bitter smile with the man I appreciated more than life itself.

The finality of Noah’s message was there – stark and painful – yet beneath it was an underlying message of hope and resilience.

"Thank you," he smiled after a pause, wiping away his cheeks with the sleeve of his black hoodie, "Thank you for being a part of my journey."

The screen blanked as the video ended, leaving me alone in the silence.

A sense of loss washed over me, raw and broken, desolate and despondent.

I sat there for a while longer, holding my body as his words echoed in my mind.

'Love generously. You are worthy. You have a purpose.’

The sentiment clung to the edges of my consciousness, like a mantra slowly seeping into my being.

My steps felt heavy and slow when I found the strength to leave my room, each one an effort to move forward.

Grief was insidious like that, invading every thought and action with its hollow grasp, embellishing its roots deep beneath the skin of heartache.

Yet, was I allowed to mourn someone who was ultimately in the end, a stranger?

But when I crawled back up the stairs, into the safety of my room, I crawled into bed and let myself open his channel once again.

Unwanted tears welled up again as I glanced at the screen, scrolling through the various streams and uploads. For so long, it had been my window to Noah - his thoughts, his creations, his heart-warming smiles.

Now, it was merely a screen- the end of the illusion that I had been a part of his life, even though we were strangers separated by thousands of miles.

The digital veil was a beautiful thing; allowing us to feel a brief sense of connection- until it’s pulled away.

And although we were strangers, he reached out to us in his most vulnerable moment.

He had shared his pain, his fear, and ultimately his hope for those of us left behind.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I hovered my thumb over another video title - 'Noah's Adventures: Ocean with the Boys’.

When I hit play, there he was. Alive. Vibrant.

His infectious smile tugged at my heartstrings as he pointed excitedly at the stunning sunset around him, knocking into his best friends. The brunette’s laughter filled my room, dispelling the stifling silence that had taken hold of my heart.

With every passing second of the video, I cried, my chest aching as my throat tightened with grief and pain- yet nostalgia and laughter as I smiled with him.

"Ya boy Noah here," he said with that familiar twinkle in his eyes, "Me and the gang thought a picnic would be a good idea,”

He then held up a container of sacramental bread, his bizarre favourite snack.

“I got jesus bones, Nick’s got the vodka.”

The chorus of laughter that erupted as Noah smiled cheekily into the camera left my heart aching at the sight of his friends- his family.

I mourned for them, too.

This was the Noah he wanted us to remember: full of life.

As the video drew to an end, the screen filled the brilliant hues of orange and purple splashed across the sky, as if painted by an ardent artist.

Noah looked at the camera with a serene smile.

"Life is a masterpiece," he said, out of breath as he stood upon the hill, capturing the water behind him, "Each day is a new brush stroke adding to its beauty.”

The video ended with a shot of the sky, Noah's laughter dancing into the twilight.

His last phrase lingered into the silence:

"Remember to appreciate it."

memento mori.

tags:

@thefallennightmare @xxkittenkissesxx @deathblacksmoke @nyxisnotok @anameunmusical

@sitkowski @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86

@whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13

@somewhere-diamond @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak

@darkmxgician @sprokat @thatchickwiththecamera @reyadawn @xserenax-13

@philomenie @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @blend-in-with-the-madness @rumoured-whispers

@anything-more-than-human @blacksoul-27 @sweetwombatpizza

[azzifuddworlddomination]

casual pt.4

paige x azzi

where my perkins tolerators at???

they'll be a part 5, maybe a part 6

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Here girls let me open up the trunk for you,” Paige’s mom says as they approach the car. Azzi had already been subjected to a somewhat awkward reunion between mother and daughter, and now she has to sit through a forty-minute car ride with not only Paige and her mother but her siblings as well.

Paige truly does love her mother, and her mother loves her. When Paige’s mother, Amy, found out she was having a girl she was over the moon. So excited for the princesses, the pink, the dresses, and the unicorns that would fill her life once her little girl was born. It didn’t take long for Amy to catch on that her baby girl was a copy and paste of her father, Amy’s estranged husband. Between Paige being a constant reminder of her failed marriage and several states between them, Paige didn’t see her mom too often. Amy thought inviting Paige’s best friend would sweeten the deal and encourage her to come. She was right, but as the girls giggle as they load their stuff into the car. Amy silently rejoices as she sees her daughter happy to be in Montana for once.

As they pull out of the airport parking lot Paige’s younger siblings, Ryan and Lauren, begin to fire off every question and fun fact that hits their mind. Paige and Azzi indulge them by giving the kids the silliest answers that she can to keep them entertained as Amy navigates the snowy mountain roads. Finally, they reach Amy’s home. As they bring in their bags Paige nudges Azzi, “y’know you’re staying in my room right? My mom said she set up the guest bedroom, but I told her you’re fine with me.” Conflicted, Azzi responds, “P, if your mom went to all that trouble I should at least humor her.” 

Amy leads them into the house, stopping at Paige’s room so she could drop off her bags before taking Azzi further down the hall. “Here you go Azzi, let me know if you need anything, okay sweetie?” Azzi nodded her head as Amy shut the door behind her. She held my hand the whole flight… who does that?? Casual my ass, Azzi thinks to herself. She stares up at the ceiling, am I stupid??? What am I doing here?” Azzi’s thoughts are interrupted as she hears knocks on the door. Azzi sits up at the sudden noise and looks over at the door. It’s Paige, she lets herself in as Azzi gives a nod of approval. Paige makes her way over to the bed and sits down next to Azzi. Silence fills the room before Paige breaks it. “Don’t sleep in here,” Paige looks at Azzi. She has a earnest look in her eyes, “Please, I need you with me…” “Okay,” Azzi replies “I will.” 

 Amy turned on a movie for the kids to watch as she worked on Thanksgiving dinner for the next day. Ryan and Paige played Fortnite on his switch as Azzi let Lauren tell her all about the fourth-grade drama ensuing at her school. Azzi even pinky swore to not tell anyone that Lauren had a boyfriend, a boy in her class named Brady, who played basketball but wasn’t super good. Azzi also promised to beat him in a game of HORSE if he broke her heart. As the night continued, one more movie and three more bowls of popcorn later, Lauren and Ryan were asleep. Paige carried Ryan as Azzi carried Lauren to their rooms. Meeting back out in the hall after they had laid their respective kid down, they went into Paige’s room. Azzi briefly imagined what that would be like someday, laying their own kids down to go to sleep. But reality hit as Paige left Ryan’s room and ushered Azzi into hers.

Paige closed the door as she pressed Azzi up against it, kissing her neck. “I’ve waited all day to do this, Az,” Paige muttered as she kissed a trail down her neck. Azzi could give you a list of a thousand reasons why she shouldn’t give in right now, but she ignores all of them as she slips her shirt over her head and lets Paige lead her to the bed.

Hours later when Amy walks by, after finishing a night-long cooking session, she peeks into Paige’s room. The two girls lay in bed, burrowed into the blankets. Too tired to really process anything she figures they must’ve fallen asleep talking. As snow falls over the peaceful Montana mountains that night. Paige pulls Azzi closer as the cold winds seep through the window crack.

“Wake up!!! Wake up!!! You’re gonna miss the parade!!!” Lauren and Ryan run into Paige’s room as the two girls frantically attempt to untangle their limbs. “We’re up! We’re up! Geez get out of here!” Paige yells as her younger siblings retreat out of the room. Paige gets up and throws a sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants toward Azzi, “it’s cold as shit,” she mutters as puts warmer layers on. The two join Lauren and Ryan in the living room watching the parade. They decide to join the kids’ protest of breakfast to save room for their Thanksgiving dinner.  

After the parade is over Paige retreats to her room to change as Azzi wanders into the kitchen. She finds a distraught Amy at the kitchen table. “The wind must’ve knocked the power out last night! The fridge never turned back on. All of it is spoiled! God I can’t do anything right,” Azzi envelopes Amy in a hug. “You couldn’t have known that that was going to happen… It’ll be okay,” she reassured her, “we can go out to eat! It’ll be fine it’ll be okay!” Paige walks in and sees Azzi hugging and soothing her mom. Concerned at what happened Paige approaches them, but Azzi brushes her away and mouths to “not worry about it.” 

Azzi helps Amy find a restaurant open on Thanksgiving day. They settle on a Perkins that’s about thirty minutes away. While it wasn’t the Thanksgiving dinner she had worked so hard to give her kids, it was still something. Amy loaded the kids into the car as they waited on Paige and Azzi. “When you were with my mom… That was really sweet, Az,” Paige held Azzi’s cheek and turned her towards her. “It was really no problem,” Azzi replied sheepishly. “I love you, Az, I mean it,” Paige looks Azzi in the eyes before finally bringing her lips to hers. Paige pulls back, as Azzi looks up at her, “I… I… think your mom’s ready to go.” 

As Amy pulls into the Perkins parking lot, its deserted. They walk into the resteraunt, and are seated immediately. Amy can’t help, but wonder if they’re judging her. Once their orders are taken, Paige excuses herself to go to the bathroom. Looking around the table, Azzi decides that going to the bathroom now would be less awkward than sitting with Amy, Ryan, Lauren, and their father. She follows Paige to the bathroom, and opens the door to see Paige splashing her face with water. “You okay, P?” Azzi asks. “Yeah, fine,” Paige responds. “No, you’re not P…” Azzi looks at her. “I said I loved you, Az, and you didn’t say anything back,” Paige replies. “I do… I really do love you Paige, its just I’ve been so confused about what we are lately I just couldn’t say it,” Azzi responds, moving towards Paige, “What are we?” “We’re what we’ve always been, Az,” Paige says grabbing her hand. Azzi should’ve been pissed off by this non-answer-answer, but as Paige grabbed her hand and pulled her closer, she couldn’t find it in herself to be mad. “Yeah?” Azzi responds, playing with Paige’s fingers in her hand. “So… do you love me?” Paige asks, “I love you, P” Azzi responds bringing her hand up to kiss it. “Then show me,” Paige says as she drags Azzi into a bathroom stall. “This isn’t a good idea,” Azzi says as she pulls at Paige’s flannel to expose her shoulders. “Your mom’s out there… she could walk in…” Azzi tries to justify between kisses. “So let her,” Paige breaks out as she grabs Azzi’s hair. 

Azzi presses Paige against the door as she kisses down her neck. Shedding her flannel, Paige throws it on the floor as Azzi helps lift her shirt above her head granting her access to more skin. Azzi kisses down Paige’s neck and stomach before arriving at her jeans. She looks up at Paige for permission as she unbuttons her jeans. Azzi pulls her jeans down and kisses the clothed area before moving to her inner thigh. Azzi rises back up to Paige’s height as she plunges two fingers deep into her folds. 

When the girls arrive back at the table, their meal is already out. They tried their best to smooth each other’s hair, and rid each other of a freshly fucked look. Amy sarcastically welcomes them back to the table, and for a split second, she wonders if her mom is catching onto them. 

[ashs-cardboard-box]

Longing

~ Van Der Linde gang/Male!Reader

~ Platonic

~ 2.1k words

Request :3

....................................................................................................

....................................................................................................

Two thousand, three hundred fifty-seven days. Six whole years since you’ve started working with the Braithwaites. Six years since your friends– your family, left you behind. You were nothing more than a grifter now. Picking up odd job after odd job for money; working at every beck and call at the hand of Catherine Braithwaite.

In a sense, you owed her. All those years ago, you had gone on a heist with the Van Der Linde gang. You were in charge of planning everything out. From the positions of everyone in the gang, to the escapes, to the successes, and the probable failures. Unfortunately, somehow, there was an outcome you never even considered.

They knew you were coming. To try and help your family make it out alive, you had to play the hero. Take the downfall and let them all escape with the promise of following them immediately after. 

Unfortunately, you were caught. You hadn’t the slightest clue on how long had passed of nothing but hell. Beaten, stabbed, cut, shot, kicked, bitten, starved… all until the Braithwaites found you after you barely managed to escape– your life hanging on by a thread.

They took you in for a price. They would watch over you until you were stable again as well as provide you a stable income if you worked for them. They were the equivalent to Satan’s hemorrhoid covered in burning moonshine embodied, but you didn’t have much of a choice. Adapt or die.

Day after day. Night after night; you were the property of the Braithwaite family. You had fallen from bad to worse. You knew some of the names of the family you had loved so dearly, but their faces escaped you. That was devastating to you. You weren’t even sure where to consider searching for them. You weren’t sure if your sacrifice had meant nothing and they all died anyway. Often spending your days drinking to be able to focus on the task at hand.

To your dismay, one of the devils that had crawled out of Catherine’s rotten womb had come to find you again. You had never cared to remember their names. They were the scum of the Earth and not worth remembering– though, they thought the same of you.

Dragging you back into that wretched manor by the scruff of your neck and, thankfully, you didn’t have to head inside too far. Catherine was sitting on her wrinkled ass in the front room as she watched her sons pace and ramble at one another. Her gaze is drawn to you as soon as you’re shoved inside by her third son.

“Ah, you’re back… good.” She mutters, though her tone is hardly friendly. “Yeah, yeah.. What’d you want?” you grumble in response. Glaring at her son briefly as you adjust the collar of your shirt before folding your arms over your chest, looking back towards Catherine.

“I thought I told you to watch that tone of yours, boy. Bartholomew here would have no problem sending you right back the way you came all that time ago.” You roll your eyes with a frustrated sigh, but you don’t argue nor call her bluff.

“Now then. Couple ‘a vermin took some of my shine. I want you to go hunt ‘em down and get it back.” Catherine all but demands before waving you off like some mutt, but you don’t leave quite yet. “How the hell am I s’posed to find ‘em?”

She stares at you like you’re the stupidest man she’s ever met before she sighs in annoyance. “Saw ‘em heading out of town.” one of her sons chime in, once again poking into a conversation where they aren’t wanted. You glance over towards him, considering your options for a moment, before looking back towards Catherine, staring down the bridge of her nose at you.

You grumble an acceptance to the task under your breath and turn on your heel to leave the room. Pulling your sidearm out of its holster and checking how many bullets you have in the chamber, not bothering to look up as you head outside. The Braithwaites’ doormen doing their jobs and holding things open for you.

Stuffing your gun back into its holster, you walk down the steps and over towards one of Catherine’s horses. She hates you borrowing them, but you don’t have much of a choice. Your own horse is still remaining near the parlour house you were dragged from.

Gently extending your hand open palm towards the horse so as to not scare it and allowing it to smell your hand. Your other hand working to untie the reins from the hitch rail. You weren’t the most knowledgeable on horses, but you knew enough to get around and manage them properly.

Guiding your hand over the horse’s mane as you stick your boot into one of the stirrups. Bringing your body weight over the saddle and tucking your other boot into the stirrup on the other side. With a pat to the horse’s neck in praise for not bucking you off, you command the horse into a trot and controlling where it heads with both hands on the reins. Your body rocking with the steady gait of the horse.

Assuming this was just another case with the Lemoyne Raiders, you had your guard up more than usual. You’ve had to deal with them more times than you can count. Mostly on the behalf of the Braithwaites, but dealt with nonetheless.

As you ride through town, you’re sure to take your sweet ass time. While the Braithwaites pay you, it’s not nearly enough to ensure a quality job gets done. She’ll be lucky if it gets done in the next few days.

Just as you’re about to head into a clearing just outside of Rhodes, you’re stopped by a rugged looking man pointing his gun at you. Taking quick notice of his attire, your eyes fall onto the deputy badge he’s wearing before looking him in the eye again. “What can I help you with, friend?”

“The hell’re you doin’ out here, friend? You ain’t got no business here” The man responds gruffly, though he seems slightly confused by your appearance. You glance away from him briefly towards the clearing before making eye contact with him. His voice seems familiar, but you can’t quite pinpoint it.

“Out looking for a couple gentlemen who robbed the Braithwaites. Don’t imagine you’ve seen ‘em, sheriff?” You respond calmly, to which he grunts. His eyes seem to be picking you apart like a vulture on a carcass as if he could see to your very soul. His stare unwavering as he slowly puts his gun back in its holster.

“What’s your name?” The man asks warily, though it’s not quite a question. More so a demand before he kills you where you stand and steals your horse from underneath you. “L/N. Y/N L/N.” you answer without a fuss, but the man seems put off by your name.

“Y/N..” he echoes, as if testing your name on his tongue. A look of recognition crosses his face as he looks up towards you. Beckoning you down from your horse with a wave of his hand, to which you follow his instruction. Slinging your body weight to one side of your horse before stepping down onto the ground. Keeping one hand clasped around the reins at all times.

As the man steps closer, you step back cautiously, yet there’s only so much space you’re given before you run into the horse, peacefully grazing on the grass. He seems completely dumbfounded by you. Staring at you doe-eyed as a grin slowly spreads across his lips.

“You don’t recognize me, do ya?” He asks. You make a point to look the man up and down as your eyebrows knit together in confusion. You can’t shake the feeling of familiarity he radiates. So similar yet far different than your memories. “Am I supposed to?”

He chuckles and reaches up to push the brim of his black hat up, exposing a bit more of his face. The dopey grin on his face is contagious, causing you to smile slightly, despite your confusion. “Morgan ring a bell?” you practically feel your heart drop into your stomach at the realization. He made it out alive. Thank the Gods.

Without even thinking, you step closer to him and pull Arthur into a tight hug, causing him to laugh and hug you back just as tightly. “I thought we lost you, kid. The hell happened to you all these years?” his voice is slightly muffled by your shoulder, but you understand him perfectly.

It takes you a bit longer to answer. You never thought you’d see your old gang again. Seeing Arthur feels like a damn miracle. “Long story..” you mutter simply. He looks more weathered than you remember, though you’re sure he barely recognized you too. Your face littered in scars from being held captive for so long. “The hell are you doing working with the law?”

Arthur gives a hearty laugh and pats your back before letting go of you, causing you to do the same. You’re not at all concerned on where the horse ran off to. To hell with Catherine. Someone gets a free horse today. 

“Dutch ‘n Micah got a plan to steal from the Braithwaites and the Grays for a bit of gold.. It’s a whole deal.” He waves dismissively before resting his hands on his gun belt. “Well now I know who I’m s’posed to be lookin’ for” you joke with a chuckle. Scratching the back of your neck as you look down the road in the direction of the cursed manor you’ve just come from.

“Is.. y’know- everyone else fine?” you asks hesitantly as you look back towards Arthur. You’re not sure if you want to know the answer. Arthur sighs heavily, his expression turning slightly solemn.

“Yeah. A couple of us made it out here. It’s been hell without you, I’ll say that much.” He chuckles bitterly as he glances over your shoulder before suddenly getting an idea. “I’m sure they’ll be glad to see ya again.” he invites.

Feeling your heart begin to race, you nod a bit quicker than you meant. Arthur nods towards a direction behind you as he steps past you, silently telling you to follow. You feel like a lost child as you follow after Arthur. Awkwardly stuffing your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. Your eyes darting across the clearing you intended to go into in the first place. 

You can just barely hear chatter among several people. Upon seeing the camp set up, you can feel all sorts of forgotten memories coming back to you. Remembering the drunken nights you’ve shared with your family. The petty arguments. The excitement of inviting new members into the gang. Since you parted, there’s a lot of new faces you don’t quite remember.

Arthur leads you right up to Dutch’s tent, clearing his throat to draw his attention, causing Dutch to look up from the book– of which you can only imagine is Evelyn Miller. “You remember Y/N, don’t’cha?” Arthur asks quietly as he puts a hand on your shoulder, nudging you further into Dutch’s tent.

The man himself is almost silent. Slowly closing his book and setting it down on his cot before getting up and approaching you as if you’re a dangerous animal. For a moment, you swear you see a hint of a tear in Dutch’s eye.

Before you even register what he’s doing, he pulls you into a tight hug. Surprisingly tighter than Arthur’s own. Catching both of you off guard by the sudden action. “It’s good to see you again, son.” Dutch says quietly

“It- It’s good to see you too, Dutch” you respond as you slowly wrap your arms around Dutch’s back and giving him a short pat. It takes him a moment, but he finally pats you back and lets go, putting his hands on your shoulders and looking you in the eye. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile..if ever.

A long moment of silence is shared between the three of you before Dutch pulls his hands back down to his sides, gently tugging on the ends of his vest as he awkwardly clears his throat, looking away from you.

“I s’pose I should show you ‘round camp. Introduce ya to everyone you missed.” Arthur mutters behind you, causing you to turn around with a small nod. There’s an undeniable fear and excitement that comes with seeing everyone again. You can’t wait to meet the rest of your family after all these years.

....................................................................................................

its finally done </3 I hope you like it !!

[chicgeekgirl89]

Chapter 7: Getting Naut-i

Thanks to @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut and @carlos-in-glasses for the Seven Sentence Sunday tags. I'm going to raise you the penultimate chapter of Come Sail Away instead! Tagging @lemonlyman-dotcom, @bonheur-cafe, and @ladytessa74 if you'd like to share some sentences with us! Also thanks to @lemonlyman-dotcom for the title inspiration on this one!

Read on AO3

“Ma’am, I promise you. No one on this boat would steal your diamond earrings,” Nancy says calmly. “I’m sure they’ve just been misplaced.”

Everything about her seems serene and unflappable, but T.K. knows that under the surface she is calling this woman a thousand terrible things, and rightfully so. This group of guests was supposed to be off the boat thirty minutes ago, but they’re still here. And now they’re accusing the crew of theft. A parting blow to what has been an absolutely exhausting charter.

From the second Frank King and the rest of his party stepped onboard they’d demanded. Drinks. Food. Water toys. More drinks. Food. Drinks again. Their late night partying went on into the wee hours of the morning every night and the boat was always a disaster by the time they finally retired. 

Frank sent his food back at least once a meal, claiming the beef was overcooked, the sauce too salty, the soup not hot enough, one thing after another after another. At least two of the women made repeated aggressive passes at Paul, to the point that Judd had switched the whole schedule to move him onto night watch and keep him as far away from their guests’ grabby hands as possible.

Frank’s niece, a woman fresh off her twenty-first birthday had gotten so drunk one night that she’d tried to jump off the boat and then been so ill they’d had to call a doctor onboard.

So needless to say, the Firebug crew is done. They want these people gone. But Frank’s wife is missing her diamond earrings and apparently nobody’s leaving until they’re found.

“I SAW HIM!” Delilah King is screaming at Nancy, a finger pointed straight at T.K. “He was in my room every day of this trip!”

“Yes ma’am, because that’s his job,” Nancy says, her tone finally taking on a bit of a biting edge. “If you’d just move out of the way we’d be happy to help you find your earrings and finish packing.”

“I don’t want a single one of you touching my things!” Delilah tells her, her voice shrill. “I want him to confess and tell me where they are right now or I will sue all of your asses!”

“Ma’am, I promise you, I did not touch your earrings,” T.K. says for the fifth time since this debacle began twenty minutes ago. “I never even saw them.”

“I put them on the nightstand every single night and they are not there!” Delilah says. “If it wasn’t you, then it was someone else! You’ve got Mexi—“

“Ooh, I recommend you don’t finish that sentence.” Tommy strides down the hallway, her voice steel, eyes hard. “I will not have you harassing my crew and making racist comments. Not on my boat. I am going to give you two options. Option one: you go sit upstairs in the salon while we do a thorough search of your room and belongings to find the earrings. Option two: I call the harbor police and have you escorted off immediately. Which would you like it to be?”

Delilah’s mouth snaps shut and she glares at all of them. “I want you to find my damn earrings,” she finally says.

“Excellent. Nancy, T.K., and Iris will start searching immediately. We’ll give them fifteen minutes. If they still haven’t found them, then we will discuss our options after that. Now go on upstairs and hopefully we’ll have good news for you soon.”

Delilah turns and stomps away down the hall. Tommy waits until she’s out of earshot then drops her voice low. “I hope to god you can find those earrings because I need this woman off my boat as fast as humanly possible.”

“Copy that Cap,” Nancy says, exhaustion on her face as the three of them head into the primary cabin to try and find the stupid diamonds. 

“I don’t understand why people get so obsessed with diamonds anyway,” Iris says as she starts shaking out pillowcases. “They’re just shiny rocks. And most of them are obtained by people with horrendous working conditions.”

“Yeah well, Delilah doesn’t really seem to care about anybody’s working conditions, does she?” Nancy says as she yanks open drawer after drawer, running her hands along the sides and bottoms.

T.K. is only semi-listening as he sorts through Delilah’s make-up bag, which takes up an entire half of one of her three suitcases. Her skincare routine must take hours.

This charter was brutal and he wants it over now. Being accused of theft is the rotten cherry on top, even if no one onboard would ever actually believe him capable of stealing. All he wants is to get back into his bunk, preferably with Carlos on top of him, and forget this charter ever happened. 

Aside from this charter, their last three weeks together have been perfect. Carlos is sweet and kind and so freaking good in bed it blows T.K.’s mind, among other things. He has no regrets about hearing Carlos out and offering him forgiveness. In fact, he can barely remember how he made it through life before Carlos Reyes swept into the Firebug’s galley and stole his heart.

There’s a flash of sparkles as T.K. opens yet another pocket. “Is this them?” He holds up two glittering studs.

Nancy holds out her hand and he drops them into her palm for inspection. “Has to be, right? Unless this lady’s got more than one pair of diamonds?”

T.K. shrugs. He wouldn’t be surprised. The Franks seem to have more money than God. 

Nancy closes her fingers around them securely. “I’ll take them up to her. Unless you’d like to do the honors?”

“No thanks. If I never see Delilah again it will be too soon,” he tells her.

“Great. Then you two can stay here and repack all of her belongings. I give you full permission to do it as shittily as humanly possible without causing any permanent damage.”

One of the things that makes Nancy a great chief stew is that she’s not above a minor amount of pettiness when called for. Iris and T.K. both grin at her and then delight in shoving all of Delilah’s possessions back into her three suitcases in the most chaotic manner possible.

“So,” Iris says as T.K. tosses her one Louboutin to put in the large suitcase while he shoves the other into a side pocket of the small. “What the hell kind of kinky shit were you and Carlos doing this morning that required ice?”

Carlos had told T.K. that Iris was aware of their burgeoning relationship, and she’d been nothing but supportive, helping them keep it quiet from the rest of the crew as they explored their feelings for each other. 

“There was a slight accident,” T.K. tells her, biting back a laugh. 

Things had gotten rather enthusiastic before breakfast service and resulted in Carlos smacking his head into the underside of the top bunk so hard that he’d seen stars, putting a swift end to their sexual escapades. T.K. had immediately pulled on a pair of boxers so he could run and grab some ice for the giant goose egg forming on Carlos’ head. He hadn’t realized Iris had seen him rushing into the galley. 

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” she asks skeptically.

“I’m serious,” T.K. says with a laugh.

“Okay. Whatever. I’m glad you guys are happy. He deserves to be with someone good. So do you.” She stops packing and looks him dead in the eye. “But if you hurt him, I will chop you into pieces and feed you to a shark.”

The thing about Iris is that you can never quite tell if she’s serious or joking. T.K. decides to err on the side of caution. “I won’t,” he says. It’s barely been a month, but somehow it feels like he’s been waiting for Carlos his entire life. He doesn’t want to do anything that would push him away.

They finish the packing and then call Marjan and Mateo to help them drag the bags out to the dock. They join the line-up with the rest of the crew to bid the guests farewell. Delilah doesn’t thank them at all, instead choosing to head straight off the boat without a word. Her husband laughs and throws out a joke of an apology before handing Tommy a very thin looking tip envelope and then heading down the passarelle.

“And good riddance,” Paul mutters under his breath, the rest of the crew murmuring in agreement like they’re responding to a pastor during a Sunday sermon.

“Let’s all say a little prayer that our next charter is a bit more relaxed,” Tommy tells them. “First round of drinks is on me tonight, all right?”

That gets a more enthusiastic response and then the group breaks up to go change and start the never-ending process of turning the boat over. T.K. follows Carlos to their cabin, and the second the door is shut Carlos reaches for him, concerned eyes searching his face. “Are you okay?” he asks. “I heard what happened with Delilah. It sounded like it was rough.”

T.K. sighs and lets himself sink into the safety of Carlos’ arms. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just exhausted. It sucks, you know? To put in so much work and then be accused of theft. Like all the hours we gave them meant absolutely nothing.”

“I know,” Carlos says, rubbing a hand slowly up and down T.K.’s arm. “Tommy knows too, right? She doesn’t think—“

T.K. shakes his head. “She knows. It’s not an issue of trust on the boat. It just sucked. That charter sucked and those people suck and I hope I never have to see them again.”

He lets his head drop into Carlos’ chest, breathing in his scent and letting himself be comforted by the weight and warmth of Carlos’ body against his own. Carlos' arms wrap around him and he presses a kiss against the crown of T.K.’s head. It’s so wonderful and soft and…

“I don’t want to go out tonight with the crew,” he says his voice muffled in Carlos’ shirt. “I want to stay here. Alone with you.”

“We can do that,” Carlos says. “I don’t need to go out.”

“Then everybody’s going to know we’re together,” T.K. says, still buried in his shirt.

There’s a brief silence and then, “I think…I think I’m okay if they know,” Carlos says carefully. 

T.K. lifts his head. “It’s okay. I wasn’t trying to push you into something you’re not ready for.”

“I know,” Carlos says. “But this crew is so different from my last boat. You were right. It feels like a family. And if they’re your family, they’re going to be okay with us. Right?”

“They’re your family too,” T.K. says softly, eyes searching Carlos for any sign that he’s freaking out. “I promise they’ll be supportive.”

Carlos nods, determination on his face. “Then let’s stay here.”

It melts T.K., the softness, the joy of his needs and desires being met. He’s told Carlos a lot over the past few weeks about New York, about his addiction, the relapses, the break up with Alex, and the subsequent overdose. It’s come out in the moments between the kissing and the sex, the quiet parts where they’re just breathing, sharing the same space. He’s not sure why he feels so safe with Carlos, comfortable enough to share those dark moments with him, but the way Carlos listens and cares for him has proven that he’s worthy of T.K.’s trust and adoration. 

So hours later, when the work of the day is done and everyone is showered and dressed in their best, T.K. takes Carlos’ hand and leads him out into the crew mess. Everyone else is already there, the weight of the past charter melting off as they laugh and joke and drink together. 

“Is that what you’re wearing out?” Iris asks, eyeing T.K.’s joggers and t-shirt critically.

“Actually,” T.K. links his fingers with Carlos’, “we’re going to stay here tonight.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Marjan snaps her fingers. “Pay up Mateo, you owe me fifty bucks.”

“No, I said they would get together before the end of the charter,” Mateo shoots back. “It’s after thecharter. And they haven’t even officially said they’re together!”

“They don’t need to say it, look at ‘em!” Judd says. “They’re holding hands. Ain’t nothin’ in this life ever made me want to hold somebody else’s hand other than being romantic.”

“They’ve been together for three weeks,” Iris says, smiling smugly that she has information the rest of the crew hasn’t been privy to.

“See? Hand it over,” Marjan says, wiggling her fingers expectantly.

Mateo grumbles under his breath as he fishes for his wallet.

“You had a bet going?” T.K. asks, a little surprised. He’d thought they were doing a pretty good job of keeping their PDA to their cabin.

“You two have been making googly eyes at each other ever since Carlos got here,” Paul says with a roll of his own. “It was only a matter of time.”

“We’re just glad the two of you are bunking together,” Judd says. “You can keep whatever you got going on in there away from the rest of us.”

T.K. laughs and watches as Carlos blushes in embarrassment. “Yeah and FYI, T.K. is your responsibility now Carlos,” Nancy says. “I’m not sure if you know yet how much nonsense this dude can get up to, but it’s a lot. Iris and I are out. He’s all yours.”

“I’ll…do my best?” Carlos says, looking slightly confused.

“All right, that’s enough,” Tommy says with a smile. “We’re going to be late. Let’s get a move on.”

The groups rises and starts to head up the stairs, all of them with shit eating grins on their faces, a few making whistles and snide little remarks as they go by. T.K. actually shoves Paul when he walks past because he looks so annoyingly pleased that T.K. and Carlos have been found out. Tommy is the last to go. “Congratulations boys” she says. “I trust this won’t interfere with our daily operations?”

“No ma’am,” Carlos says immediately and T.K. nods his head in agreement.

“I didn’t think so. Enjoy your evening.” She takes a step up and then pauses. “And just a reminder that Dave is staying behind to watch the bridge. So keep any um, activities,” she looks right at them, eyes twinkling, “behind closed doors unless you want an audience.”

Carlos turns red instantly and T.K. has to hold his breath to keep from laughing as he stammers out a reassurance to Tommy that they will be the picture of decorum.

“Oh my god,” Carlos says as soon as they’re gone, collapsing into a seat at the crew mess table and burying his face in his hands. “I take it back, I care that they know.”

T.K. laughs again and steps toward him, putting his hands on Carlos’s shoulders. “They’re brutal, but it’s all out of love.”

Carlos looks up at him. “You didn’t prepare me well enough for that.”

“I didn’t realize that was my job,” T.K. says, eyes shining with mirth.

“What exactly do they mean that you’re my responsibility now?” Carlos asks curiously. “What ‘nonsense’ are they talking about?”

“No idea,” T.K. says innocently. He’ll mention the multiple comas, the near drowning, and the sinking of the tender boat another day. “Should we order a pizza?”

“Or…”

“Or…what?” T.K. asks.

“Or we could make pizza.”

“Or,” T.K. counters, “you could make pizza and I’ll watch.”

“Nope.” Carlos stands and grabs his hand, tugging him along toward the galley. “If we’re making pizza, you’re helping.”

They put on music and dance around the galley, singing along badly as Carlos pulls together ingredients for crust and sauce. It takes way longer than ordering a pizza would, but it’s ten times better. It’s silly and fun and there’s so much kissing and touching that by the time the oven timer buzzes T.K. is thinking a lot less about food and a whole lot more about just getting Carlos into bed as fast as he can.

The pizza is delicious. Carlos apologizes that it’s not better and says that with a pizza oven and different ingredients he can really make it incredible, but T.K. tells him to shut up, that it’s perfect, and they end up eating the entire thing.

They clean up after and then T.K. persuades Carlos to take a dip in the hot tub. They do a fast change into swim trunks (Dave is watching after all, there will be no skinny dipping tonight) and then climb the stairs to the top deck where the hot tub sits open and inviting beneath the streaky pink hues of the setting sun.

T.K. climbs in first and then watches as Carlos sits down across from him. “This is really nice,” Carlos says, sinking up to his shoulders in the warm water. “A hot tub with a view.”

The way his eyes lock on T.K.’s make it clear he’s not just talking about the sunset and T.K. feels a jolt of pleasure at being the focus of Carlos’ attention. “It’s pretty amazing on this side of things too,” he says as Carlos sits up a little, water glistening on the toned muscles of his chest and abdomen.

They sit in the quiet for a few minutes, listening to the early evening sounds of the marina, the sky slowly darkening around them, the stars and the moon appearing out of nowhere, dotting the night with their brightness.

“Do you still feel good?” T.K. finally asks, the question that’s been sitting in his chest for the last few hours. “That the crew knows we’re…”

He’s not sure how to label them, not sure what they actually are other than romantic roommates. “That we’re what?” Carlos asks. 

“I don’t know,” T.K. says, mulling it over. “More than roommates?”

“Definitely more than roommates,” Carlos says. “What do you want us to be?”

“Carlos I—“ The words he wants to say stick in his throat. He’s not sure how to express what’s going on inside him. “I think you’re amazing,” he finally says.

Carlos’ face breaks into a beautiful smile. “I think you’re amazing too.” He takes a beat and says, “We don’t have to put a label on it. I know things with Alex ended badly. I don’t need us to be put into some kind of box. I just want there to be an us.”

They’re the words T.K. needed to hear, even though he didn’t realize it. He moves forward through the water so he can sit next to Carlos. “I want us too,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “I want it so much.”

“Good,” Carlos says. “Then that’s what we’ll be. Just us.”

He can’t take it anymore. He reaches out, cupping Carlos’ face in his hands, thumb gently playing with his earlobe before he draws Carlos to him, lips meeting in a kiss that has become blissfully familiar in the last few weeks.

It takes about three seconds for Carlos to open up to him, lips and tongue and teeth and all, his own hands finding T.K.’s thighs under the water, scooping him up as if he weighs nothing and then hauling him sideways into his lap for better access. Everything is wet and warm and T.K. delights in how easily his hands slip and slide over the muscles of Carlos’ back.

He shivers when Carlos’ teeth sink into the shell of his ear and then glide down his neck, his tongue rough and slick against T.K.’s skin, tasting him again and again until T.K. can barely remember his own name. 

Things are happening below the water line, bathing suits hiding very little at this point and T.K. makes a pathetic sound when Carlos pulls back, everything in his body screaming for more. “We need to go below deck,” Carlos says, his eyes dark and full of lust in a way that makes T.K. uncertain they’ll make it all the way there. “There are things I want to do with you that Dave shouldn’t see.”

They towel off quickly, neither of them fully dry as they stumble their way across the deck leaving wet footprints on the teak in their wake. They only make it as far as the privacy of the stairs before Carlos pins him against the wall, his body clearly ready for anything T.K. wants, kissing him and rutting their hips together until T.K. is whimpering into his mouth.

Neither of them is aware of the water pooling around their feet from their dripping bathing suits until they almost slip down the stairs and die. One of Carlos’ arms slams into the wall with bruising force, the other wraps solidly around T.K.’s waist, saving them both. “Why is sex with you always so dangerous?” he asks, breathless, half laughing, half still terrified from their near disaster.

“Do you want to stop?” T.K. asks.

“Not even a little.”

T.K. grabs his hand and pulls him down the stairs, stopping on the second floor where the guests usually stay. “Where are we going?” Carlos asks.

“Do you trust me?” T.K. asks.

“Absolutely.” His response is quick and certain.

T.K. tugs on his hand, and reaches for the doorknob of the master suite. “Didn’t you already clean in here?” Carlos asks as they step inside.

The room is opulent, starched white sheets and comforter on the king size bed, polished wood gleaming on the walls, marble countertops and that gaudy lion tap staring at them through the open doorway of the en suite. T.K. spent two hours in here today getting it ready for the next charter, but right now he couldn’t care less about whatever rich ass people will be in here tomorrow afternoon. Even if he has to clean it all again, it’s worth it.

“I thought this might be a little safer than the bunks,” he says, locking the door behind them.

Carlos’ hand goes to his head self-consciously, clearly remembering the near concussion he received this morning. “Great idea. Do we need to get—“

“I put everything in here earlier,” T.K. tells him. 

Carlos smiles, his eyes flashing with something dark. “You thought ahead.”

“Yes. I did.” T.K. pushes his swim trunks to the floor with a wet splat and looks deeply into Carlos’ eyes. “Take me to bed Carlos Reyes.”

[harryforvogue]

Part One | Chapter Five: From Eden

Hyde Park, London, England

March 1916

"Hey."

The distant voice reaches my ears along with the crunch of the leaves under heavy approaching footsteps. The end of the chapter is near and I won't allow myself to be distracted until I finish it. Not bothering to pick up my pace, I continue calmly reading, waiting for the person calling me to come closer. In the back of my head, I am aware of who it is, because only one person addresses me as just "hey", and that person is not a matter of importance to me up against my book, so I deliberately do not look up.

The voice rings out again, a thick accent. My shoulders drop in resignation as it dawns on me that he's not going to leave me alone as he's never been one to drop a subject in the past. The young man comes closer until he's blocking the sunlight I rely on. I look up at the shadow looming over my sitting figure, shielding the sun with his body. I hold a hand over my forehead, eyes squinted as I look at his darkened face in the shade.

Harry stands over me in his usual business attire that he wears when helping his stepfather at his shop in the city, his hands in his pockets. "If I may have a word with you."

Returning my attention to the book, I flip the page nonchalantly. "Speak."

"Your return to the house is requested. It's almost lunch time."

"And they've sent you to get me?"

"Well, the park is on my way back. Why can't you just sit on the bench instead of getting your dress dirty?"

I check the benches, the wood ruined by the sun. "I'm not too fond of getting sunburnt."

"I see." Harry adjusts his pants and crouches in front of me. He watches me for a second before lunging and taking the book from my hands and holding it in the air out of my reach. I scowl and try to grab it, but he moves to sit beside me, his back against the willow tree I'm under. "It's not even in English."

"English is not my first language," I protest sarcastically, reaching for the book, but he twists his body away. "Give it back!"

"How can you sit here?" he asks mildly, still flipping through the pages. "My ass would hurt after a while. You're sitting on tree roots anyways."

"Give my book back!"

He closes it and tucks it into his jacket pocket. Curse the stupid book for being so small. "It's lunchtime."

"I told your sister I would be out for a while. She's not expecting me back for lunch."

Harry frowns, green eyes transparent under the harsh glare of sunlight. "My mother will have my head if you're not fed."

"That's not my problem."

The corner of his mouth lifts up. "Oh, is it not? I've been thinking about this for a while, how you probably enjoy it when I'm scolded because of you."

"Is this your final hypothesis?"

He nods proudly. "It is. Tell me, do you enjoy hearing me get yelled at because it's happened more times than I can count since you've started living with us again. I can always tell my mother that you prefer to sleep under this tree and then maybe you'll finally leave us alone." Harry rests his head back on the tree truck, waiting for an answer. Now that the sun is out of his eyes, it streams over his pale, smoothly shaved skin, highlighting the summer freckles that weren't there in the winter.

After the final semester, I moved back in with Thea as the girls' dormitories became unavailable for the summer. As I wait for a job to become available in the fall, I have taken Harry's room once more. Returning to France does not seem like an option as I've become familiar with England and prefer it over my homeland. The busy city of London and exciting people has persuaded me to stay. France, to me, reminds me of the dull memories in my life in which I'd be subjected to living in a cold house with the lack of interaction from my family. Thousands of miles from them now, I am more in communication with them now than I was before arriving in England for school. Thea has kindly allowed me to stay in her house for the summer as we both wait for jobs to open and earn enough money to find a place of our own.

Harry is finished with his education, having graduated a semester before me, and repeatedly likes to remind me how I have taken control of his room.

I'm unsure how to approach Harry's friendship, if I can even call it that. Vastly different from his sister, conversations with him always seem anything but real and I often find myself staring at him, wondering if he's even comprehending my words. I haven't seen him in the months I was at school, but returning has reminded me of his fickle personality. One moment, he's complaining about something unimportant and the next moment, he's making fun of me for things such as reading under a tree in the park on a summer's day.

Most of the time, his words aren't scathing as they are playful, and that's why I respond to him. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't give them the time of day.

Harry's eyes crinkle as he smiles at me, nudging his shoulder with mine. "I'm kidding."

"I know," I reply. "You don't really want me to leave because I'm your only friend."

My response causes his eyebrows to rise even more. He laughs. "My only friend? That's rich coming from you considering my sister is your only friend."

"It's the language barrier. I don't know how to speak to anyone else," I say dismissively.

"Sure it is."

"I'm also from a different country, in case you've forgotten. You have no excuse. Make some friends and leave me alone, will you?"

Harry's grinning now. "You get riled up so easily. With that little scowl on your face. Really fills me with pleasure."

"You," I say with annoyance, "are incredibly irritating."

"Aren't I?" he beams, standing up. "Come on. I know you're hungry. Let's go."

Harry holds his hand out, waiting for me to take it, but I bat it away, standing up by myself, wiping my hands on my dress. We walk side by side in silence, though I know from a mere glance at his face that he's trying to come up with something witty to say. I wait for it patiently, taking the time to come up with a good comeback as well.

Harry's company is better than no company, though I'd prefer it even if it weren't my last option. On most days, I don't see him as he spends almost all day at his stepfather's printing shop, but he's always there at dinner, kicking me under the table or stepping on my foot, passing it off as an accident, making remarks that would make an average person want to commit a crime. Harry, though he's annoying, makes me smile and makes me want to converse passionately with him. I find that arguing with him is a fun pastime and I look forward to our banter whenever I catch a fleeting glimpse of him in the kitchen right before he leaves, or when I arrive home from the cafe at the same time as him and he lets me enter with an open, gentleman-like gesture though he's anything but a gentleman.

Our shoulders briefly brush against each other again. We're almost back at his home when he speaks again. "I wanted to ask you something."

I gave him a look. "No, you can't have your room back. Look, I've bargained with your mother so many times. She just thinks I'm more deserving of the larger bed. It's not my fault you're so big."

A dimple indents his cheek and his curls fly as he shakes his head. "No, that's not it. Though I must say thank you for trying to help me out."

I shrug. "What is it then?"

Suddenly aware of how close we are to his house, he slows down and waits for my steps to lessen as well. I curiously peer at him, his eyes darker and pink mouth pursed. He smooths his hair back with a quick hand. I'm always jealous of how his curls hold and how mine refuse to despite the hours I put into maintaining them.

I violently remember the kiss he laid on my mouth on New Years.

Harry begins to fidget, suddenly terribly uncomfortable. The matter seems to be quite serious so I match my pace with his and wait for him to begin speaking. I stop walking when he reaches out and grabs my elbow. "It's bad," he tells me gravely.

My stomach drops. "What? Is it serious?"

"It's an issue of the heart," he says.

Perplexed, I urge, "Are you sick?

"Yes."

"Why do you sound like you're dying?"

"I might be."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It's my health. It's declining. I need to know something or I may drop dead."

My heart thunders in my chest, suddenly alarmed by his quiet, somber tone.

"Oh God," I whisper. "Tell me."

He's never been this serious, not a trace of a smile on his face or a flicker of humor in his transparent otherwise mischievous green eyes. Whatever is bothering him must be extremely anxiety-inducing. Perhaps he's actually dying and needs me to speak at his funeral, or be the one to break the news to Thea who is unable to handle any kind of disastrous news. What could it be? A recent flu has been taking people out every single day, but Harry boasts about his good lungs and sinus on the daily when he sees me sneezing due to my pollen allergies. Could he be wounded? If it's a matter of a vital organ, like his heart as he said, there's no cure outside of surgery. I imagine Harry laying on the operating table, doctors looming over him with determination on their face. I shudder and shake my head to remove the image from my thoughts.

"Ready?"

I nod firmly. "I'm ready. Tell me."

He blinks and lets his shoulders drop. "I want to take you out. When I have time of course, but I wanted to know your answer so I can make plans."

I glance down at his hand holding my elbow tightly and then back at his stern face. Anger runs through my veins as I tear my arm away and smack his shoulder, hard. "Putain de merde. You said you were dying!"

"Well, I may as well be if you reject me," he argues, crossing his arms. To my horror, I realize he's still being serious.

"I hope you have never asked a woman out because this counts as guilt tripping!"

"It's only guilt tripping if it works."

"God!" I growl. I step forward and open the flap of his jacket, snatching my book away. Then, I turn around and begin walking away from him. "I can't believe you."

Harry's heavy footsteps follow me. "You didn't even give me an answer!" he demands. "Annaliese!"

I whirl around and thrust the edge of my book into his chest. "If you asked like a normal person, you would have had an answer by now!"

This seems to break Harry out of his trance, eyes lighting up.  "You haven't said no. Is that a yes then?"

"Did you hear me say yes?"

"Damn, you're annoying." He runs a hand through his thick hair.

My face is red. A couple on the street turns to curiously watch the scene unfold. "I'm annoying? You just convinced me you're dying to get a date out of me!"

Harry purses his lips and considers this. "Well," he finally says, grinning, "did it work?"

"No!"

Before I can walk away, he grabs my elbow and tugs me back. "Alright, you feisty woman. I'm sorry. How can I ask you out without embarrassing myself? I thought it was clever, but I'll ask in plain terms. Go out with me."

"You're not asking, you're demanding! God, why can't you just be a gentleman for once in your life?"

"You ask for so much, don't you? Will you go out with me or not?"

I watch his expression carefully, searching for a hint of sarcasm. "Fine," I growl, breaking my arm from his grasp. "But no more pulling on me like a child or else."

Harry smiles. "Or else what?"

I look at him up and down. "Or I'll tell your mother."

He begins walking again and I follow him. "Wow that really frightens me," he says plainly.

"It should."

***

Harry ends up taking me to dinner the following weekend, dressed very nicely in his suit, his white shirt matching my flowing white dress. I'd be lying if I didn't find it immensely odd to be holding the hand of something I'd grown close to after such a rocky start, his fingers slotted between mine, his hand frequently against my back, protectively weaving me in and out of the crowds on this particular warm spring night.

Though my hair is tied back with a ribbon, the wind keeps whipping it into my face, causing me to have to release his hand and redo the braid, and after the third time, Harry tightens his hand around mine so I can't fix my hair, giving me a pointed look that says "leave it."

We're at a restaurant called "La Plage." One look at it makes me crouch over and laugh while Harry tucks a hand into his pocket and watches me confusedly.

"A French restaurant?" I laugh, wiping the corners of my eyes. "You're taking me here?"

"Well, I thought you'd be most familiar with it," Harry says, ears pink. "Do you wish to go somewhere else?" He looks around at the empty street.

"No no!" I insist, reaching for his hand, dragging him to the front. "Let's stay."

Not only am I out to ridicule Harry for his decision, but the universe is too, as the restaurant is locked with a sign that says "CLOSED" in big letters on the front. I see the familiar tic in Harry's jaw and fire in his eyes when he reads the sign. He turns away and sighs.

"Nothing is going right tonight."

I lace my fingers with his and laugh, pulling him away from the restaurant. "Let's go somewhere else. We'll walk for a bit though."

"I'm sorry," he says, beginning to walk down the dimly lit street. Small lanterns hang around the street lamps, doing little to properly illuminate the place. The cobblestone of this street, however, is nicely made, perhaps even fresh. I imagine riding my bike here at a time like this where there's nobody but us. "I should have suspected when there was no crowd. It's a pretty popular place."

"It's okay," I tell him sincerely. "I really don't mind where we go. Maybe this is God's punishment for trying to guilt trip me into going on a date with you."

Harry bites away his smile. "Are you religious, Annaliese?"

"Oh, not at all."

"Why not?"

"Well, I've never felt much importance on the matter. My parents are religious, but I don't see why. I mean, there are a lot of things that happen that I believe God would have prevented from happening. Are you religious? Am I offending you?"

Harry shakes his head, his neatly combed curls coming loose with every step. "I'm the farthest thing from religious, don't worry. I just like hearing thoughts about it. Religion itself is very interesting. Practicing, to me, is not." He slants me a look through his curls. "Most people I know are very religious. And they're different religions too. I can't see myself ever being like that."

"Me neither," I nod in agreement. "But, I don't blame people for finding that safe space. If they want to put their trust in something they believe in, then as long as they don't bother me for not doing the same, I don't think there should be much emphasis put on our differences."

I look down at our shadows, Harry's taller than mine by a few inches. His steps are larger than mine, but I'm doing well to keep up. We're strolling, hands clasped together, swinging them occasionally.

Harry is the next one to speak, a few moments later. "How long will you be staying in London?"

"Until August. I haven't seen my parents in a while and they'd like to see me for my birthday."

Harry nods. "Your birthday is in August? How old will you be turning?"

"22."

"Wow you're young."

I pull back and glance at him. "Aren't you 22 also?"

"Yes," he laughs. "We're both very young, aren't we?"

"We're adults," I point out.

"Yes, we are. But mentally, I don't think we're anything but kids still. Sometimes," he says, leaning in to whisper in my ear, "I'm still afraid of the dark."

"You must be in hell walking down this street then," I reply teasingly, squeezing his hand. I feel the ring he wears on his middle finger cuts into my skin, but don't say anything.

"I would be," he answers, pursing his lips, "if you weren't here with me."

I have been on dates before, but they've never quite felt like this one. The sound of his deep voice makes my heart race, and when he says things like that, even in passing, my heart threatens to stop altogether. I'm thankful it's dark so he can't see the scarlet flush on my face, and I put a curtain of hair between us, demanding the blush to go away.

"Sorry," Harry chuckles quietly, standing back straight. "I don't mean to make things awkward."

I pick my head up and shake it. "No! No, you don't make it awkward." His eyes twinkle in the barely there light. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Well, it's not really a question. More like a statement, if you will."

"Tell me, Annaliese."

When I'm with Harry, I don't feel weak. I feel like I have the advantage in these conversations even if I'm battling with him and losing the fight. When he says hurtful things to me as a joke, I don't want to cower and wait for him to stop talking so I can stop hurting. No, I want to say things back to him, plant my foot down and raise my voice. The best thing is that Harry reciprocates and argues back. And I do love it very much when he argues with me.

"I haven't stopped thinking about the way you kissed me on New Years. When you took me to my room. I've never been kissed like that," I admit, looking down the endless road in front of us. "It was really nice, Harry."

Instead of replying, Harry stops walking in front of a street lamp and when I glance back at him, ready to make amends if I've made anything awkward, he pulls me to him quickly and presses me to the pole.

There's nobody on the street, but I wouldn't even care if there were. Harry's mouth is warm on mine, his hands on my waist, pulling me tight against his firm chest, hips angled perfectly with my hips. And then, suddenly, his hands are in my hair, and his mouth is off mine, now pressed to my cheek, holding my head in place as he plants audible kisses to my face.

"I haven't," he whispers in the midst of kissing my cheek, "stop thinking of it either. I didn't know how you felt about it since we never really talked about it. I didn't... I didn't want you to think I was kissing you because I was drunk."

I realize my arms are on his shoulders and I push myself off the pole to take his mouth again, kissing him repeatedly to give him my answer.

"To be fair," I whisper, "I did consider for some time that you were just drunk."

"I wasn't," he answers honestly, softly kissing my throat. "God, I haven't stopped thinking about that night."

I breathe out a laugh, burying my own fingers in his hair when he kisses me again.

"Do you think this will make Thea upset?" I ask him, gazing up at his startling green eyes. His hair is ruined now thanks to my wandering hands.

Harry smiles. "I don't care," he tells me, leaning down to kiss me again with his now swollen lips. "And you shouldn't either."

At that moment, I don't care at all. I'm in Harry's arms after months of dreaming about it. I don't know anyone named Thea when he kisses me. I barely have any memories except for these kisses we share. I kiss him and kiss him and hold him tight.

That's when I decide I'm going to stay with him.

[gunsatthaphan]

Hi Hi!

I wondered if you could recommend me some shows to watch for my long ass traintravel. I love GMMTV shows but havent watched many of them. Id be so thankful!

My faves are Not Me, Moonlight Chicken and Eclipse 💗

Thank you so much and have a nice day while I am sitting here for the next 10 hours. 😪😂

hiii nonny! 💗

here are some some recommend-worthy gmmtv bls besides the ones you mentioned (in no particular order):

Theory of Love

He's Coming to Me

Tonhon Chonlatee

Vice Versa

Star and Sky: Star in My Mind

Dark Blue Kiss

My Gear and Your Gown

A Tale of Thousand Stars

Bad Buddy

and if you're open to non-bls as well here are some from gmmtv that I enjoyed:

The Warp Effect (with bl side story)

Baker Boys

Friend Zone (with bl side story)

Friend Zone 2: Dangerous Area (with bl side story)

55:15 Never Too Late (with bl side story)

P.S. I Hate You (with bl side story)

Mama Gogo

3 Will Be Free (with bl side story)

Mint to Be

Love Beyond Frontier

Wolf

One Night Steal

Happy Birthday

The Gifted

Angel Beside Me

Girl Next Room: Motorbike Baby

Girl Next Room: Midnight Fantasy

UMG

Additionally I'm gonna link you to my recommendations tag where you can browse through some suggestions based on requests 😉

have a safe train journey!! 💜

xxx

[mrscoulter5ever]

Double Dog Dare You Chapter 3

Eric's POV

Eric stood next to the net, a bored expression permanently plastered onto his face. When he was promised a leadership job right out of initiation, he had grand hopes of sitting in some gilded office, holding secret meetings and making high level decisions. Guess that was the Erudite in him. He sure as hell wasn't expecting to have to babysit a bunch of snot-nosed kids (sure, they were only a year younger than him, but who's counting?) and writing a bunch of cringe ass names on a chalkboard. Seriously, these soon-to-be-Dauntless kids were so uncreative. Wow, another Inferno. Great, not like we don't have five thousand of those running around this faction.

Eric watched with the same boredom as a girl in a Candor outfit fell into the net with her eyes shut. Here comes our second jumper. God, somebody put a .38 to his head already. "What's your name, initiate," Eric asked, fighting the urge to yawn.

The fact that she took a minute to think meant she was going to be picking yet another stupid ass "courageous" Dauntless name. Great. Yet another beacon of originality for this faction.

"Ariel. My name is Ariel." Seriously? Like the little fucking mermaid? That's not even badass. Also she wasn't even a redhead. "That's a stupid name," he scoffed, partly for the release of letting his increasingly more intrusive thoughts win, and partly because Eric was a massive sadist (and owned it!) who took great pleasure in putting others down.

"Really? What's your name? I bet it's so much better." Damn, bitter much? Eric must have really struck a nerve with that one. Nice. "Eric," he replied, leaning in. "You'd better remember that name because I am personally going to ensure that your new life here is a living hell."

"Eric?" she asked curiously.

"Hm?" he replied, pleased by the more subservient change in her demeanor.

"You'd better remember to use some Tic-Tacs next time," she smirked. Excuse her? What the fuck did she just say to him? Oh no. Hell no. No no no. He could verbally beat people up but he was a Dauntless leader and this little bitch was not about to disrespect him. Uh uh.

"You're going to regret ever opening your mouth, initiate" he threatened, getting as close to her as he could while the members behind him restrained him from actually touching her. He made a mental note to fire them later.

As soon as he had finished that sentence, she brought up a can of something and sprayed it into his open mouth. Minty. Wintermint, perhaps? Well, she'd be begging for winter when he sent her down to the fiery depths of hell where she belonged.

After showing the rowdy bunch of ragtag miscreants to their dorm rooms, Eric couldn't give less of a shit about being the next Dauntless HGTV rep and giving them some grand damn tour of the place, so he led them straight to the training room.

He needed to blow off some steam, so he grabbed his favorite Rock Island 1911 and began to show them some basic shooting stances. He fired off a few rounds, all of which hit the center of the bullseye, of course. Eric was practically the Annie Oakley of Dauntless and he took great pride in that fact.

He walked around the room observing the initiates as they pitifully attempted to handle a loaded gun for the first time, thankful yet also somewhat disappointed that no one had managed to blow off a body part just yet.

Then he got over to that mermaid bitch, observing the holes in the outer rings of her target. "Figures you wouldn't be able to get anything right on your first day," Eric sneered, towering over her to intimidate her. "Here," he said, roughly shoving her limbs into position, grateful for the opportunity, however slim, to pull that smart-mouthed bitch apart without some tight-ass security guard holding him back.

"A thank you seems to be in order, initiate," Eric toyed with her. She took a deep breath as he smirked. Finally this bitch was learning. "Eric, go to hell."

Ha. Ha. Ha fucking ha. Oh wow she should be doing stand up at the Apollo. God, she was just the next fucking Robin Williams wasn't she?

He grabbed her arm and yanked her over to the ring. Let's see how funny she was when he was pummeling a fist into her mouth.

He announced the fight to the rest of the audience, taking great joy at their fearful expressions. Ah, if only he had riled the same anxiety out of her. But no matter. All in due time. He just needed to show her that he could beat the living shit out of her in 10 seconds flat. Then the fear would come.

He sent some very powerful punches her way, but her lithe body enabled her to have quick reflexes such that she managed to dodge all of them. Eric was growing increasingly frustrated, until he had a nice little haymaker in line to make a perfect beeline to her temple. Bingo.

He felt her hand grab his wrist and in the next instance he was lying flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling trying not to groan at the throbbing pain in his head. Well she wasn't the only one with some tricks up her sleeve.

Eric kicked up at her and jumped up to his feet again. He tackled her to the ground and jabbed her in the ribs. He was absolutely going to win this fight, but he had to admit, no one in Dauntless, male or female, initiate or member, had ever lasted that long in a round against him. Had Eric been a stronger man, he would have tamped down the erection that thought gave him, but as this fight seemed to be demonstrating, Eric was a very, very weak man.

"This fight isn't nearly over," he whispered, trying to reclaim his fragile masculinity. She gave him a smile that make his southern friend expand while she leaned in as if she were going to kiss him. Eric couldn't help but hold his breath in anticipation. A woman who could almost (almost being the key word) kick his ass and also wanted to fuck him? Hell yes. He needed a good lay, and Eric never told anyone, but he loved fighting as a form of foreplay.

"Eric," she whispered in a breathy voice that gave him a quick vision of what their night would be like, "go to hell."

Eric lie flat on his back. Unbelievable. Well, it certainly took long enough. Finally, he had a real challenge.

[beerecordings]

Wolf Bite - Part 23

Chase stares at the black eye of his camera, and his camera stares back.

He didn't know why he was coming into his recording room as he felt his feet bring him this way, and he doesn't know why he's sitting here now. His computers and monitors are all shut down, asleep in the darkness of the room, since he hasn't booted up any of the nice lighting he had arranged around his space. The floor is littered with snack wrappers and a couple shirts, tearing off one to change to another just to record a new video and pretend he hadn't cranked them all out in the same overwhelming day.

It's a familiar space, and the feelings of dread and shame it brings are familiar too. He remembers Stacy so exasperated every time she would find him hiding in here, and he remembers hours of scrolling through dizzying feedback. The sensation of tens of thousands of eyes all watching him doesn't fade, even with everything shut down.

And now the eye of the camera reminds him of Iris, too.

"What the fuck am I doing in here?" he whispers to himself.

But he doesn't leave.

It takes him several minutes to realize he's here because he wants to film a video.

That's not familiar. It's been a long, long time since he had any want to film anything, even back when he was still creating on a daily basis.

He boots up his computer uncertainly. He doesn't think he'll actually do anything, but he can at least push the button, adjust the camera, examine his own reflection. He thinks this one scrape down the side of his cheek will scar, but it looks kind of bad-ass, so he doesn't mind.

The camera hums a little as it wakes up. He stares at the image it's sending.

"Hi, everybody," he says, just practicing. "I know I've been gone a while. I just wanted to film a video to say - because I have - I have an announcement. An update? Because things have changed with me."

A lot of things.

"What the fuck, Chase," he sighs to himself, embarrassed even with no one watching. He turns the camera off quickly and the computer follows. Everything goes quiet again.

"I'm just making a video because I wanted you all to know something about me," he whispers to himself. "A lot of things have changed in my life. The biggest thing recently is that I was... bit. Yeah, that kind of 'bit.' I'm a werewolf."

He can imagine the responses already. They kind of scare him, but... he just wonders if he would have felt better with everything that happened if he knew he wasn't alone in it. If he had some friendly face on the internet telling him that this is going to be okay, and that there are good things to all this, really. But maybe he's just making a martyr of himself. Maybe nobody cares, and talking about it will just make more people horrified of werewolves, and what little enjoyment he had in his career will finally be snuffed out for good.

It's been a year and two months since he uploaded a video, anyway, and the rumors of his wife leaving him and his drinking getting out of hand had all burst up like geysers he was trying to hold down with his bare hands, flooding his reputation. Nobody's listening anymore.

A knock on the door interrupts his brooding and he gets up, finding Marvin at the door. Just the smell of him is a relief.

"Oh, what's that smile for?" asks Marvin, reaching out to tug petulantly at one of Chase's stray hairs. "I haven't even told you the good news yet."

"Happy to see you, I guess," Chase admits. "It's too lonely in that room. What's the good news?"

"Someone who wants to see you," he says. Marvin's arm wraps around Chase's shoulders. "Come on. Let's go see our pack."

.

Henrik expects Chase to come through the door first.

Chase feels safe, in his memory. Chase feels familiar. This whole house feels familiar, but it's no longer just their safe space. It's the place that they were taken from.

Does Chase feel the same way? Is it cruel that he wants to know he's nervous too?

The door clicks and Henrik sits up. But instead of Chase coming through the door, it's Jackie.

Oh.

He smells like an Alpha in a way he didn't before. Powerful. Enticing. Dangerous.

Henrik pushes himself away til his back's against the headboard of the bed. Jackie tilts his head at him, resting easily against the frame of the open door.

"I'm just here to talk," says Jackie. His voice is as loud as ever and Henrik jumps. Jackie grins half-heartedly. "Schneep... I'm not going to hurt you."

Henrik seems to have lost his voice. He swallows and shakes his head, pulling a blanket up over his lap. He can still smell a little of his own blood in the carpet from where JJ had bit him and dragged him back to another Alpha. Then again, he can smell chemicals and soap too: someone has tried to scrub the blood out of the carpet, preparing the room for him to come back.

"Can I come closer to you?" asks Jackie.

"Whatever," manages Henrik, though his voice comes out in a croak. "Sure."

Jackie comes to sit on the side of the bed, still looking at Henrik intently. Henrik can't hold his gaze long. He breaks away, turning to look out the window instead, breath skipping in his chest.

"So this is it, then?" Henrik says. "You just - you're just my Alpha now?"

Jackie pauses. "Do I smell like your Alpha to you?"

"Yes. I think. I don't know. I'm not hers."

"I know."

"I'm not," Henrik repeats. "I'm not hers."

"You're not."

"But I don't know if I want to be yours, either," Henrik whispers.

He waits for Jackie to lunge at him, but he just hums and kicks his feet, nodding at him. "We're kind of in a pickle, in that sense."

Henrik laughs weakly despite himself. "Because... because you saved me. And now you feel like my Alpha to me."

"And you feel like pack to me," Jackie replies.

"Really?" asks Henrik in a whisper.

Jackie nods. "Uh-huh. We're bonded. Schneep... I'd never make you stay, not in a million years. I'd let you go the moment you asked. But I want you to hear me out before you go tearing something inside you in half just because she made you scared to be anybody's pack."

"Because it will hurt to leave," Henrik says. "That's what you're going to tell me."

"The choice to leave is yours completely. I won't say a word about it if you go. It'll hurt, but the pain will be your choice, and I'll wish you the best in finding a pack in Germany."

"What, then?"

Jackie straightens, squaring his shoulders. "Just this," he begins. "I don't want any control over you; I need some deference but never submission. I will never put my teeth in you unless we're playing, I will never use force to get what I want from you, and you are free to go at any time. Henrik, all I want is to look after my pack, and you're part of that. You're free to go. You're always free to go. But if you stay -- "

Now it's Jackie's breath that hitches. Henrik watches as Jackie steadies himself, readjusting on the bed, turning towards him.

Then his hand reaches out gently. Henrik flinches. Jackie just scoots closer, and then -

He sets his hand on Henrik's throat, gently. He doesn't squeeze. He doesn't grip. Henrik is frozen stock-still, trembling for a moment, waiting for the pain and the panic to come - but Jackie just holds still.

Slowly, Henrik relaxes.

He remembers the moment when Jackie touched his neck after moving his stuff out of his apartment. It was like this: something that should have been scary and alarming and unusual, but instead, it just feels like protection. Natural and secure.

"I'm going to squeeze a little," says Jackie.

When Henrik doesn't move, he presses his fingers around his throat. Still gentle. Henrik can breathe. The same way that nudity has stopped feeling sexual, this doesn't feel sexual either. They're in human forms, but they're speaking to each other's wolves, making promises he can feel rather than hear: I'm never going to hurt you. You're safe even with my claws around your throat. Even at your most vulnerable, you're safe with me.

Jackie's hand falls away.

"I'll look after you for the rest of your life if you'll allow me," Jackie says. "That's all I want you to know."

Henrik nods, more firmly than before. He thinks that's true. It feels true. It's unbelievable, that Jackie wants him at all - doesn't he know anything about him? About how neurotic he is, how reclusive, how unreachable? - but at the same time, it's true.

It's only then that Henrik senses the other scent in the room, and he looks up sharply. His nose points him to the doorway, and although there's no one in view, he knows he's there.

"Chase," he says, exasperated and fond at the same time. "Are you spying?"

A blue eye and a mess of brown hair appears beside the door. Chase clears his throat awkwardly. "Didn't want to interrupt."

"Come here," says Jackie. "Dork."

Chase's scent flares with relief and he hurries forward, standing beside the bed. Henrik only has to shift in his direction for Chase to read it as an invitation: he lets out a low rumble like a contented Labrador and throws himself over him, wrapping his arms around him and rubbing their heads firmly together. Henrik laughs, louder than he expects, and wraps his arms around him too. Chase's nose presses closer to his neck and Henrik tenses for a second - but again, no bite comes, and Chase's smell is untainted by either fury or despair, the scents that accompany a bite to the throat.

Henrik decides to test his own waters. He sits up and Chase comes with him, expression open and hopeful. Henrik raises his hand and touches Chase's neck, settling his palm around the front of it, almost cupping his chin.

Chase just closes his eyes and lets him. It feels secure to him too, Henrik realizes. It's not just him and Jackie. They all feel like pack.

Jackie rises from the side of the bed, moving to follow the scent of Marvin in the hallway. "Think about what I said," he tells Henrik softly. "Let me know when you've decided."

"What are you two deciding?" asks Chase, the moment Jackie's gone. "Are you okay? It's so good to see you, you don't know how... how scared I was. Truly. Fuck, I'm glad you're here."

Henrik looks at him, pushing a strand of his hair from his eyes. "We were talking about whether I'll stay or go."

"Don't," says Chase.

From the way his scent twists, Henrik can tell they're both surprised by the loudness of his voice, firm as pumice. There's a moment where Chase looks like he might back down, apologize and change the subject, but he doesn't.

"Don't go," says Chase. "You have to stay, Schneep, you have to. We're pack now. Don't go. Stay here with me. With all of us. I'll look after you too. I know you have healing to do, but so do I. It won't always be easy, but it'll be easier together. We'll all take care of each other. You don't have to be so alone anymore. You don't have to leave. Stay."

And when Chase reaches out to touch him - when his hand settles on his cheek and he looks at him with his face full of freckles and a scent like chocolate and pack - that feels true too.

"Okay," whispers Henrik, in the place where their scents meet and everything smells like home. "Okay. I'll stay."

.

It's not the harness that JJ minds.

Sean is good to him, after all, and if JJ didn't want to wear a harness like a pet, he could shift back to human anytime. Sean would be able to certify that he isn't feral, and he could walk out of the apartment as a man, and no one would try to put this thing on him: a neon orange harness and leash with the words 'UNDER REHABILITATION - DO NOT ENGAGE - UNCERTIFIED LYCAN' repeating across its length.

"Sorry, pal, sorry," whispers Sean, looping it carefully around him. "I can't have you out of the apartment without this on. I know, I know."

Sean soothes at him, but JJ's just sitting still, letting him hook it on. Sean won't use it to humiliate him, and if it feels tight, it's nothing compared to real confinement.

He does mind, however, the reactions from the humans around them.

They always take quiet pathways when they go to the park, but today, Sean takes him somewhere new. As they're forced down a street with people bustling around, the throng parts around them in a disgusted wave of movement. Sean keeps his eyes straight forward, leading JJ close at his side, but Jameson knows he can hear it too: the angry rumbles of the people around them.

"Back up, do not let that thing near you."

"... no reason for him to be in the city..."

"Why do we have parks if they're still going to be out in the open like this?"

One werewolf calls encouragement as he passes, but for the most part, JJ can only hear discontent.

"We're only a few minutes away from Chase's," Sean leans down to tell him.

JJ can't tell if Sean actually believes he can understand him, or if it's just his habit to talk to wolves, feral or not, like they're human, but one way or another, he appreciates it. He doesn't feel human in the middle of all this, that's for damn sure.

A mother stops them, cradling her child away from them, and yells at Sean about how it's inappropriate for him to be out here with a feral animal. JJ sits at his side as Sean listens quietly, something twisting in his stomach. No, he doesn't mind the harness, but this...

Don't they know he didn't ask to be like this?

"Ma'am, I'm a rehabilitator, I'm just moving him from one place to another. I wouldn't bring him out in public if he weren't safe to be around. Look, he's perfectly friendly."

Sean reaches to the side and touches JJ's mouth. He parts his jaws and Sean sets his fingers down between his teeth for a moment, tapping at his canines. JJ looks up at him and the mother with big eyes, tongue swiping once at his rehabilitator's hand.

She just keeps arguing with Sean. When someone else comes to her aid, a man much larger than Sean, they turn away and keep walking. JJ's ears are down flat. Jack reaches out to pat them, giving him a fragile smile.

That's when a rock collides fully with the side of his head. Sean gasps, faltering for a second, and JJ leaps up, whirling to find the person who threw it, but he can't pick them out from the crowd. On instinct, he tries to howl - nothing comes out and he feels stupid, useless, inhuman.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," chokes Sean, pulling him hurriedly away. "Come on, let's get out of here."

They push out of the busy part of the city together, JJ pulling him along now, claws scrabbling against the pavement, so hot it's starting to hurt his paws. They come to a residential neighborhood with nice houses and Sean leans against a tree for a second, catching his breath, putting his hand up to his face.

There's a small brown bruise beside his eye. He gets out an inhaler and takes his medicine, rubbing at his head wearily. It's not a bad injury by any means. For throwing rocks, it could be a lot worse.

JJ doesn't feel any better. Someone did that to him just for walking around with a wolf in an orange harness at his side?

He has always had trouble communicating with everyone else around him. Being talked over, being yelled at, being ignored. Weren't things hard enough before this already? Now he's not even human. Is this how he's going to be treated for the rest of his life? They all think he's a monster, and no one's listening to anyone trying to tell them otherwise.

"Hey, I'm okay, I'm okay," Sean is trying to tell him, kneeling down in the grass beside him to grab his face. JJ pulls away from him, tail between his legs and ears flat. He didn't ask for this, for any of it.

"JJ, calm down."

He'll stay like this forever, he's decided. All he ever gets is rejection. What's the point of shifting back into a human? The only person who ever really listened to him betrayed and imprisoned him. He may as well look like an outsider. Like a monster.

Sean's arms pull at him again, wrapping around him and petting down his side, shushing him. JJ whines out a breath of air and hides his head against his chest, licking his paws. Sean pulls his paw away from himself.

"Don't do that to yourself," he murmurs. "You're grooming your fur out. I'm totally okay, JJ. I'm right here."

He hugs him again, squeezing him close.

Yeah. He'll just stay with Sean for the rest of forever. Who needs to be human anyway?

"Poor thing," whispers Sean, stroking his fur. His face presses into JJ's pelt, and for a moment, he thinks he feels wetness there, dripping onto his side. "It's going to be okay, JJ. It's going to turn out somehow. I don't know how, but it will. It has to."

JJ knows he must smell like despair.

[samuelsimauthour]

I WROTE THIS FOR MY BOYFRIEND. he's a whore. (love you Nic)

I haven't writen anything that wasn't for my WIP or for school in so long that i almost forgot how fun it is to write one shots. So, heres the one i just wrote for my boyfriend.

Starchaser. Fluff/Mild Smut.

I'm storming off the quidditch pitch covered in mud, sweat, and blood when I hear an all too familiar voice holler from behind the bleachers.

"Io, Potter! You look like like shit!" The dark haired boy is gleaming in excitement and wonder. Regulus Arcturus Black, my bestfriends brother, and the boy i have had a crush on for so fucking long. I offer him a polite smile and a wave.

"I just got my ass handed to me, but thank you so much for your concern." I shout back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I continue making my way to the castle and Reggie follows behind not saying a word but I can sense his eyes piercing the back of my skull. I whip around and glare at the beautiful porcelain skinned boy, only to be met with a smile. Who even knew that Regulus could produce anything more than the permanent scowl.

"Are you just going to follow me all the way to the castle?"

"Perhaps. Your arse is nice to look at."

"Bloody hell, are you trying to flirt with me?"

"Nope, just stating facts."

I roll my eyes and continue through the quad to the entrance then up the stairs and past Dumbledore's office to the entrance to the Gryffindor common room all the while Reg is still stalking behind me at a safe distance. As I am about to enter the stairwell I check around to make sure no one else is there and turn to face Reggie.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You most definitely can't come in here?" Is half yell half whisper. The sun from the window shining on this magnificent boy's high cheekbones and emerald eyes almost made me swoon.

"Oh sod off. I'm just going to see my brother."

Of course. Sirius. How had I not thought of that? Still holding his gaze I say the password that grants entrance to the common room and allow him to follow closely behind until we reach the bottom of the stairs and I head straight for the dormitories to take a shower and get dressed.

I return to the dormitory from having a shower to find Regulus laying on my bed reading. Puzzled and exhausted, I walk over to the bed and take the book out of his hands. He frowns up at me and I remember that I only have a towel wrapped around my waist. I quickly close the canopy around my bed and throw on the closest article of clothes I can find, gold and red flannel pj bottoms. Surely there could be something better around here but I have a really attractive boy in my bed and I just want to go to sleep. I open the canopy and crawl into the bed shoving Reggie off the other side in the process.

"Hey! what was that for?" He grunts out after sitting up. I look down and shrug.

"You were in my spot."

"Don't act like you don't like seeing me in your bed. I've noticed you staring at me and watching for me in the halls between classes." Reg sounds so sure of himself so I push my anxiety away for the moment and retort in the best way I know: sarcasm.

"I have no clue what youre talking about. You must have me mistaken for someone else." I look away then back at him quickly to study his face. Hes so fuckin' hot.

"Really? You are quite literally staring at me right now." He brushed off his pants and sat on the bed with me, his legs crossed and his back straight. I blush a thousand shades of red and scootch closer to the head board and pick up the book I had pulled from his hands earlier. Regulus takes that as his cue to move closer to me and my breath hitches in my throat and I have to remind myself how to breathe momentarily. Our thighs are touching and I am fighting the urge to reach out and grab his handsome face and kiss him, but I know that Sirius and Remus could be back from the library any minute and i dont have the energy to deal with the wrath of Sirius right now.

I look at the younger black brother only to be met face to face, our mouths inches apart and i think for a moment that i have died and gone to heaven. Before i can even say anything Regulus places a gentle finger under my chin and tilts my head up so our eyes meet and i get lost in the sea of green for a few seconds and then his lips are on mine. Not on a deep kiss but a slow, torturous one where it feels like it could never last long enough. Startled, I went to pull back but Reg put a hand on my neck to steady me and before I knew it he's on top of me, straddling my lap.

"Reg, we can't, well get caught."

"I put up silencing and cloaking charms while you were in the shower. We're fine. Please just let me kiss you." Impressed and confused, I just stare, nod, then place my hands on either side of his face, one snaking around to the back to play with his hair, the other brushing my thumb over his lips. I smile.

"Merlin. I've wanted you for so long. I've wanted to know what you taste like..." I’m cut off by Reg kissing me, his lips crashing down this time, heated and full of fervor. Almost like he needs to kiss me to survive. I don't hesitate this time, I'm kissing him back with just as much passion and groping at every inch of his body that I can reach. I pull at his sweater and he takes if off tossing it to the side somewhere. I then slowly begin to trace shapes on his back and kiss his neck leaving soft hickies and bite marks along his collar bones, easily eliciting soft moans and whimpers from the boy in my hands. I shift us so that he's lying on his back and I'm now straddling him, one of my thighs between his legs. I shift my body weight teasingly and the taller boy lets out a groan of contentment mixed with a twinge of frustration. I begin tracing his scars and his stomach with gentle finger tips. I leave a trail of bite marks and bruises all the way down his chest and by the time I get to his belt I have him panting like a dog. I smirk to myself. 

“Good Puppy.” Reg tries to buck his hips at my words but the weight of my chest pinning him down makes it hard to do so. 

“Yes, daddy.” he breathes out, blushing and trying to cover his face with his arm. I gently pry it away and smile up at him kissing just above the waist of his pants. I slowly start to un-do them when I’m startled back to earth by Sirius yelling. 

“James BrotherFucking Potter! How dare you defile my brother in our dormitory!?” Sirius is standing at the foot of my bed and he looks a cross between pissed right off and trying not to piss himself laughing. 

I slowly get off of Reg and we both just stare at Sirius. I start to speak but before I can even say anything, Sirius is already leaving the room, stomping about muttering about how he knew this was going to happen and how he isn’t surprised. I turn back to Reg who looks absolutely mortified and pull him into my chest. 

“I think that was enough excitement for one day. Do you want to sleep here tonight?” I yawn and take off my glasses, placing them neatly on the bed side table. 

“Yes.” All Reg says before he requests some pajamas and I pull out some green ones I had stolen from him last year. We sleep half naked and curled into each other. My mind is so full of bliss and terrified of what Sirius and the others will say in the morning when I try to sneak out Regulus from our dorm before breakfast.

[diagonal-queen]

dia entirely forgot it was thungo thursday until mayoi reminded her and she dropped everything to watch the ep. here are all her thoughts, live-documented, in chronological order (apologies for this):

NOT RANPO CHILLING LIKE SHIT'S SWEET WHEN THE CAR HE WAS IN JUST FUCKING CRASHED LMAOOOOO

ranpo is so small next to minoura. he's so tiny and cute i just wanna cuddle him sm (and yes i am a little taller than him- height means nothing to me. we all know where the rest of his inches went YKNOW WHAT IM SAYIN YA FEEL ME)

'the police of this nation are idiots' yes minoura you're absolutely correct but consider this: the police of every nation on god's green earth are idiots

isn't it amazing how it was written in this magical reality-bending book that nobody would believe in the agency's innocence and in a couple minutes worth of running his mouth, ranpo just...undid it?? for like hundreds of police officers??? the sheer power of this man

god i forgot just how fucking fantastic this intro is. tbh this is probably my favourite intro of all of them. the colours and imagery and the chaos of it all MWAH (also kishow voice mm)

bones. was this panel too hard to animate properly?? did you read the fucking manga bones?? do you HATE US BONES??????

i could listen to ranpo talk for HOURS. literally hours, in a language i don't even speak, about anything he wanted, for hours, and i wouldn't get bored. his voice just...*kicks feet and giggles*

i missed you tecchou <3 please keep cooking for fukuchi. you're doing great sweaty xx

some loser: 'when do you suppose a life ends?' even bigger loser: 'when it becomes unable to adapt to change' fukuchi on his celestia ludenberg arc ok

IT'S BEEN LIKE ONE FUCKING WEEK AND THE UN IS ALREADY MAKING AN ANTI-TERRORIST GROUP??? THEY'RE FULLY READY TO FIND AND EXECUTE THE AGENCY MEMBERS IN UNDER A WEEK?? THE ICC LEGALLY CAN'T EVEN DETAIN CRIMINALS ON THEIR OWN IRL

i wish people reacted to seeing my posts on their dash the same way that the united nations reacted when fukuchi appeared onstage

congressmen will excuse mass shootings of gay ppl and then have shirtless fukuchi posters hanging above their beds where they half-heartedly fuck their wives and go to sleep before the thought of helping her also cum even crosses their mind

wait. *pauses and zooms in*. WAIT. YOU'RE TEL

YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT

TH

THAT ABRAHAM STOKER WAS THICC?????? THAT HE HAD A DUMPY???? THAT HE HAD SOME JUNK IN THAT TRUNK???? ALL THAT ASS INSIDE THOSE JEANS???? CURSE YOU FUKUCHI OUCHI FOR RIDDING THE WORLD OF BRAM'S CAKES

thinking about it, doesn't the decay of angels sound like a really cool name for an operatic metal band??

fukuchi: *enters room* ranpo: YOOOOOO STEPDAD GUESS WHO'S AN ENEMY OF STATE :DDDDDDD

fukuchi really is like 'you havent changed at all, boy' ranpo is literally eight years older than me. if he's a boy i'm primordial soup

fukuchi also said that ranpo's title of 'excellent detective' is self claimed. the thousands of people whose lives ranpo's probably saved must all be like 'say sike rn'

ranpo trusting fukuchi solely because the president said he trusts him. crying screaming throwing up ranpo GIVE ME ONE CHANCE (that's right guys we're back to this again)

fukuchi thinks he's hot shit cus he can jump high?? well my ocs can also do that fukuchi. sucks to be basic huh

IT'S NOT RANPO'S FAULT HE WAS BORN LATER AND THUS MET FUKUZAWA LATER??????? FUCK OFF FUKUCHI (also i love the way they're sitting they're all so silly mwehehehe)

omg ranpo also commented on the 'boy' thing lmaooo he and i are so good for each other <3 if only he'd give me a chance... </3

i wonder what portion of atsushi's budget goes towards emergency ramune. also imagine someone caring enough about you that they always keep one of your favourite snacks on you in case you get hungry or something. that's so cute i can't <3333

imagine coming up with a complex plan, twelve or so years in the making, to end the world, all because u asked ur friend out like thirty years ago and he said no T-T

fukuchi: *tilts neck* *minecraft skelly noise*

oh atsushi. i know other people won't like me saying this but you're so hot and i want to do the sex with you <3333333

wow bones. you've outdone yourself. this has to be the best fisheye yet- maybe even beating lucy's fisheye for how terrifying it is. i'm genuinely speechless

AKUTAGAWA

omg atsushi's speech on how loneliness is his biggest fear and how much he cares about his loved ones (kinnie moment), and the one thing he needs, truly needs right now is someone to fight alongside him to save all that he has to lose and the world as he knows it, and then akutagawa appears? soulmates. i mean it's not even like this is a surprise to me as someone who read the manga but, like, it's different when i'm watching it. soulmates. soulmates soulmates soulmates

and that's a wrap for tonight's edition of dia's thungo thursdays!! be sure to tune in for next week and see them cry tears of hopelessness and despair!!

[aria-ashryver]

hey aria how u holding up ? 🙏🏼🩷

hiya love! ty ty for asking, im good! every single doctor i have seen has told me im handling things really well

(highkey taking this as permission to ramble about having cancer, so more under the jump haha)

im happy but ✨tired✨ though holy shit, look at this

between the blood tests, IV lines, and hormone injections for fertility treatments, ive had 28 injections so far this month.

twenty eight.

so. far. 😑

ngl my arms are a mess, even my bruises have bruises lmao

But! Someone took a scan of my entire skeleton last week so that was pretty metal.

I have a surgery tomorrow (for embryo freezing), and few more appointments still to go (MRIs and stuff), but im starting chemo suuuuper soon!! Can't fucking wait to be the weird egg sitting in the chemo ward for hours at a time writing vampire smut on their janky laptop 💪

Also, also!! my oncologist is the FUNKIEST LITTLE DUDE i adore him 🥹 he's really doing everything he can to make sure i am getting the best possible treatment.

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

So, I have a super aggressive cancer type, right? Caesar is growing rapidly like the little attention-seeking slut he is, but the cool thing about HER2 positive type cancers is they are also super responsive to treatment, and there have been a lot of recent drug trials to specifically target the HER2 receptor - so i have a really good chance of making a complete recovery.

One such drug has recently finished trials, and is available in NZ at the moment, but only privately. It isn't publicly funded yet - if i wanted it, i'd be paying several thousand $$ per chemo cycle (and given that i just graduated uni and im having almost 20 cycles of chemo, my answer to "are you interested?" was "HAHAHAHAHA no im broke but thanks.")

WELL. My fucking oncologist comes busting into the room like the silly little lad he is going "HA! I THOUGHT OF A LOOPHOLE!!!" and he goes on to tell me about a grey area in the wording. This drug isn't available for free *unless* the patient's tumor is inoperable. And Caesar, needy bitch that he is, is a fucking massive tumor already. At this point in time, *technically*, the surgeons couldn't safely operate on me and guarantee they'd removed all my cancer. (Like, chemo will shrink Caesars lame ass so i can have surgery eventually, but right now, major surgery is a no go)

So my doctor is going to try and pull a sneaky little manoeuver he likes to call "we gonna try bend the rules a little. Not break, just bend. Shh." 🙊😈

(his exact words lmao)

So, no promises, but he's gonna try get a fancy schmancy brand-new drug included in my chemo treatment.

I know chemo is gonna suck ass, but im looking forward to getting started. And my mama is flying up here soon 😊 and all my doctors are really nice. And my neighbours cat visited me today for cuddles. And I watched the sunrise this morning and it was pretty.

I have so much to live for, you know? And so much to be happy about. This ask ran the fuck away from me lmao, but its nice to sit back and think about things.

I'm tired. But I'm happy 🌻

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

Beboptober Day 13: Honesty Hour

Thanks to @thestarlightsymphony for the prompt list! Like my last fic, this was inspired by a previous Beboptober fic—specifically @aldreantreuperi‘s fic for last year’s Beboptober prompt Never Have I Ever. I don’t think it’s on their Tumblr, but you can read it on AO3 here! Unlike my last fic, I imagine this one taking place pretty early on in the series and the Spike-Jet-Faye partnership—and definitely before Session 15, “My Funny Valentine.” TW for alcohol, I guess?

No one was quite sure how many drinks they’d had, or exactly how much the worse for wear they were, as the three of them lazed, scruffy and half-dressed, in the dim light of the Bebop’s main living room late into the night. No one was quite sure who’d first proposed the idea of an “honesty hour”—each person would receive exactly one question from another and would have to answer it honestly. But once the idea was out in the air, it hung there for a while, not going away.

There’d been opposition at first.

“Honesty hour?” Spike had grunted. “What are we, second-graders? Playing Truth or Dare?”

“Like we’d ever let you play that,” said Jet, next to Spike on the couch, glaring at him. “You’d just choose ‘dare’ every time and get yourself killed.”

Faye, from the chair across from them, looked sidelong at Spike with curiosity and asked, “Did you ever even go to second grade?”

Spike sarcastically tapped his watch. “Does it look like it’s Honesty Hour?”

The opposition probably stemmed from the fact that, although no one was quite sure what the original person who’d suggested Honesty Hour was trying to get at, it was almost definitely less of an innocent trust-building exercise than a way to catch their crewmates off-guard and get them to reveal something incriminating and embarrassing. After all, they weren’t second-graders. Or at one of those cheesy corporate team-building retreats. (Not that any of them had ever been on one. But it sounded like hell.)

Things got more interesting when someone—Faye, perhaps, with a mischievous smile on her lips, probably plotting exactly how she’d be able to bend the rules and come out on top—declared an official Honesty Hour penalty for lying or not answering: a thorough cleaning of the asker’s ship. Before anyone really understood what was happening, the punishment had escalated to a ship-cleaning, doing the asker’s laundry for three weeks, and ten thousand Woolongs.

No one quite remembered the next morning how they’d decided they could even tell when someone was answering untruthfully. They were all a little drunk, and a little stupid, and in that perfect in-between zone between vulnerable and vindictive.

“Okay,” Jet said, looking around at his two comrades. “Okay. Honesty Hour.”

"Honesty Hour,” Spike repeated. “One question for each of us, one question from each of us. Who’s starting this?”

“I guess I am,” said Faye. She turned to Spike, cigarette dangling from her fingers. “Question one. Same as before. Did you ever go to second grade?”

He glanced at her. “You’re really wasting it on that?”

“I’m just curious,” she said innocently. And she was. There was a lot you could learn about a person from their childhood. A lot you could use against them.

And, Faye had to admit, she had trouble imagining Spike as a little kid; she wanted to know what he’d experienced, what he’d been like. Petulant, probably. A smartass, a pain in the ass, hard to put up with. She wondered idly if he’d had the same floofy hair.

“Well then, to answer your question…nope.” Spike closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

“Really?” Faye raised her eyebrows. She’d somehow figured Spike hadn’t had a normal, privileged upbringing, but it was interesting to hear it coming from his mouth.“Then what was tiny little seven-year-old Spike doing, if not sitting in a classroom learning his ABCs?”

“I think you’re past the ABCs by second grade,” said Jet.

“Okay, fine,” Faye said. “DEFs. Whatever.”

“Pretty sure I’ve fulfilled my Honesty Hour quota,” said Spike, glaring at her as he kicked an empty bottle away from him. It clattered as it hit the wall.

“Aw, come on,” said Faye, putting on her most beguiling smile. Not that it would ever work on Spike, but a girl could dream. “I wanna know.”

“You asked me a question,” he said. “I answered it. Those are the rules. Now it’s my turn.”

“It’s Honesty Hour,” she protested. “Not Honesty Five Seconds.”

(It wasn’t bound to last long anyway with each person being asked only one question, but no one said the rules had to make sense. Nothing really made sense to them in their inebriated states, and they quite liked it that way.)

“C’mon,” Faye continued, knowingly ingratiating. “Were you just so damn smart they skipped you all the way up from first grade to third?”

“Just imagine what a kid with no money, no family, and a hungry belly to feed does on the streets of Mars.” Spike glared viciously at both of the others in turn, the intensity of his state exaggerated by the number of drinks he’d had. “When he’s not in a cushy classroom learning his ABCs.”

“There weren’t any truant officers?” asked Jet.

“None who gave a shit.” He grabbed a slightly-less-empty bottle and took a swig. “From what I hear, I wasn’t missing much. Apparently the Martian public school system is crap.”

The three sat in silence for a while, Spike’s words hanging in the air between them.

“So…” Faye wrinkled her nose at him. “You don’t know how to read?”

“Of course I know how to read,” Spike spat. “Jesus Christ.”

“Well, how did you learn…” She gestured vaguely. “Stuff?”

His face softened just the tiniest bit. Memories of Mao, of his very earliest days as a young recruit in the Red Dragon Syndicate, returned to him in the briefest flash. “I learned everything I needed to know from other places.” He closed his eyes. “Eventually.”

Faye simply nodded, filing this information away for future use.

It was silent for a moment, the only noise the ambient humming of the engines, until Faye spoke. “So. Your hair.” She pointed vaguely to it. “Was it still floofy back then, or—”

“Enough.” Spike slammed down his bottle on the table. “I answered your question. Now it’s my turn.” He turned to Jet, his gaze steady, defiant. “How’d you lose your arm, Jet?”

If he could reveal something about his past, Jet could very well reveal something about his, couldn’t he?

Then again, Spike had asked his partner this question several times before, and he was usually brushed off with a “That’s a story for another time” or “Why do you want to know?” or, with a pointed look back at Spike, “When I was being too gung-ho and reckless.” He wasn’t really expecting a different answer tonight.

Jet sat in silence for several minutes, and Spike wondered if he was being thoughtful and brooding or if the drink had caused him to somehow fall asleep with his eyes still open. (Was that something they taught you in the ISSP?) He was just about to get Jet to pay up the ten thousand Woolongs—and could practically see the lovely gleam of his newly cleaned Swordfish II—when Jet spoke.

“It’s the price I paid for being naïve,” he said. “Trusting what I shouldn’t have.”

Spike was startled at the unexpected answer; across from him, he could see Faye raising her eyebrows too. But as soon as he opened his mouth to ask something more, Jet held up his hand. “I’ve played my part here. No more questions.”

He wasn’t going to get any more out of Jet, he knew. The man was a stubborn bastard—it was a miracle he’d gotten this much out of him. Instead, he grabbed the bottle in front of him on the table and took a swig, then said, “Okay. Who hasn’t gone?”

“I—I believe I have a question for Faye,” Jet said, his speech slightly unsteady and slurred but still as decisive as ever. He looked Faye, as best he could, straight in the eye. “How old are you? Really?”

“Twenty-three,” she answered.

“Really?”

Faye twisted a lock of hair around her finger, innocent as could be. “Says so on my mugshot, doesn’t it?”

She was obeying the letter of Honesty Hour, if not the spirit, which was honestly better than she’d hoped for herself. She really was twenty-three. Technically. Biologically. Jet didn’t have to know she wasn’t actually born twenty-three years ago, or that her birth certificate no longer existed. His carelessness faintly surprised her; for a police officer, he really needed to learn to be more careful with his questions.

“But all that stuff you’ve said…” Jet sputtered, grasping the air for fragments he couldn’t quite reach; he was sure he could make an excellent, sensible argument here if only he remembered what it was. “Y’know, about…women being older than they look and…”

“How old do you think I look?” asked Faye calmly.

Jet slumped down, defeated. “That sounds like a trick question.”

“Exactly.” She sat back in her seat, satisfied. “And now I hope you’ve learned your lesson about asking things like this.”

“I think we’ve learned our lesson about doing stupid shit like this,” said Spike, drinking deeply from the last dregs of his bottle.

As the three of them, by some unspoken mutual agreement, slowly rose from their seats and made their way to their respective quarters—not bothering to clean up; that was a job for their future, hungover selves to curse them out over—Faye felt oddly triumphant. No one was quite sure who’d begun this strange little game of Honesty Hour, least of all her—but she was pretty sure she’d won it. She’d already gathered a lot of interesting bits and crumbs of information about Spike and Jet to use in the future. As long as she didn’t wake up tomorrow morning with a pounding headache and all memories of the night forgotten.

Actually, she thought as she watched Spike and Jet stumble off to bed, with the mussed hair and rumpled underclothes and baggy eyes that she was sure she was sporting too—maybe that would be better for all of them.