#that are just brown enough to be brown but are black enough to look black???

[earthchica]

Funny How Time Flies

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: you are a shy, introverted person who wants to break out of your shell and experience fun at least once in your life. During a mutual friend's group trip, you meet Terry and have the best sex with him. Once the fun is over, will you and Terry stay in touch?

warnings: explicit smut (18+), light use of daddy, foul language, dirty talking, dom/sub, oral (f), pussy slaps, fingering, unprotected sex, nicknames (beautiful, baby, baby girl), words: (3k)

note: hey, I'm working on another mini-series, but this one is sweet, wholesome, and freaky! let me know your thoughts and if you want to be tagged in future parts. please enjoy!

-

You’ve been shy and introverted your entire life, often feeling tired of this loneliness. Your daily routine typically consists of working, exercising, and returning home, which leaves little opportunity for social interaction or adventure.

While you go out when you want to, most of your time is spent at home with your loving dog. Despite that, you know something is missing—particularly, a boyfriend and a more vibrant social life.

The anxiety stemming from your shyness made it difficult for you to step outside your comfort zone. You want to seek more experiences beyond the walls of your home and be more outgoing.

When your friends Sasha and Maya invited you on a group trip, you accepted. They were surprised but happy and reassured you that you wouldn’t feel left out or awkward during the trip.

Sasha, in particular, couldn’t contain her excitement, as explained by her boyfriend, Bryce. He was bringing his old marine friend, Terry Richmond.

You met the girls at the airport and greeted them with hugs. Sasha explained that Bryce and Cameron needed to find Terry, which made you feel nervous. She told you a little about him, but ultimately, you would have to form your own opinion about him.

"Oh, here they come! Finally,” Sasha replied, gesturing towards three tall, fit men in the distance.

Bryce was a tall, dark-skinned man, while Cam was kind of brown-skinned since he was lighter than Bryce. Then your eyes led to him. Who must be Terry?

At that moment, you felt an undeniable spark of love at first sight. Terry was slightly taller than Bryce and Cam and had a lighter skin tone.

He was so handsome, with good hands, good lips, and, good god, a nice body!!! He was fine, and you wanna intertwine him.

"Good, made it back on time and found big dawg," Bryce nudged Terry on the arm, laughed, and then moved over to Sasha.

"Yeah, bro was at the wrong damn gate/terminal," Cam said, walking over to Maya and greeted her with a kiss on the forehead.

"My fault; it's been a minute since I've been at the damn airport; y'all know I don't travel a lot," Terry chuckled lightly as he caught you staring, prompting you to look away.

"Well, we're glad you found him. Now...um, Terry, I want you to meet someone," Maya said with a smile.

He raised his eyebrows curiously and she motioned towards you and introduced you to Terry by using your name.

“Hey, there!” He said, giving a polite wave, and you just stared at him. Everyone looked at you, awaiting your response, but nothing came out until Sasha nudged you.

“Hi,” you said, waving back with a small mile. You held his gaze for a moment, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach, before shyly turning your eyes away.

The flight to Cancun, Mexico, is currently boarding for its scheduled departure at 1 PM. Passengers are advised to have their boarding passes and identification ready and to proceed to the gate promptly.

"Okay, that's us. Who's ready to get Lit?" Maya clapped her hands, easing the awkwardness and creating a more hype vibe.

Sasha wrapped her arm around your shoulders playfully, giving you a knowing look through her sunglasses.

"Look at you, drooling all over Terry already; I told you he would be your type," She teased, and you playfully hit her arm.

Soon enough, you were all on the plane, and of course, you were sitting next to Terry. He was talking to you, but you felt so nervous that your responses were short.

You both had a lot in common: you were single, didn’t get out much, and were on this trip to have fun. You couldn’t believe that a handsome man like Terry wanted to talk to you despite your shyness.

Terry was eager to talk to you from the moment he first saw you. He felt a strong connection and wanted to get to know you better. He was really glad he decided to go on this trip because your sweet and shy nature made him want to break you out of your shell.

“You're kind of the shy and quiet type, huh?! I like that; some people say I'm reserved, so I guess I can relate,"

"You don't seem like it; you seem like an outgoing person." You look at him for a second. His captivating hazel-green eyes burn into yours, causing a flutter in your chest.

"Well, I sometimes can be both; I'm a little reserved when I don't know the person, but if I know you, I'm more open, I guess," Terry explained, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"What makes me so different?" You asked in a playful tone, building some confidence.

Terry laughs and smirks, "I guess you're that special!"

You felt like your heart exploded the way he looked at you, obviously attracted to you. You just nodded, looking away, trying to hide your smile.

“Hey....come on, I was just getting used to hearing that pretty voice of yours,” Terry said, leaning in, and your breath hitched.

You and Terry chatted throughout the entire plane ride. Although you were still a bit shy, you found yourself being more talkative than before, which felt positive.

Perhaps Terry was just what you needed for this trip. Once your group arrived at the stunning villa, you marveled at its beautiful interior.

“Alright,” Maya announced, her enthusiasm infectious as she gathered everyone to discuss the week's activities. She carefully ensured everyone felt included and excited about them.

Maya suggested you all chill and settle into our bedrooms for the afternoon. You began rolling your heavy suitcase down the hall, its wheels clicking softly against the floor.

“Do you need a hand?” Terry asked, approaching with a friendly smile and ready to help you with your suitcase.

"Yeah, thanks." You said with a small smile, walking to your bedroom door and walking in.

"You can put it right there, " You said, pointing at the chair before you and indicating that he should place it there. Terry glanced at you curiously as if he were too nervous to ask a question.

A moment of silent communication passes between you. Terry stepped forward, closing the distance, and you felt your heart race.

You instinctively wanted to shy away, but you fought against the urge, reminding yourself to be brave.

“I hope this doesn’t sound too forward, but I would love to take you on a date tonight. I am drawn to you and want to crack your shy shell and see what’s inside. Of course, only if you want me to," He expressed with a hopeful smile.

“I would love that, Terry,” You said with a smile. Terry smiled back, gave you his number, and set the date plans.

He walked out, winking at you as he left the bedroom. You bit your lip and excitedly squealed, jumping dramatically onto the comfortable bed.

-

You told the girls about the date, and they were so excited that they went upstairs to your bedroom to help you out.

“I don’t think I can do this; it's been so long since i've been on a date, and all together, I'm shy as fuck” You said, getting your nerves up.

“Babe, it’s fine. You need this, and Terry is an amazing guy. We wouldn't have brought him on this trip if we didn't know he would be perfect for you.” Sasha says, ease your anxiety a lot more.

“Sasha is right; just have fun and let go, but not too much; you might get dicknotized,” Maya smiles playfully as she hands you a sexy yellow dress that catches the light beautifully.

"This will look amazing on you," She added, her eyes sparkling excitedly. As you slipped into the dress, your nerves faded, replaced by a sense of pride.

Maya's perfume filled the room as she sprayed on you; it had a familiar and comforting aroma.

Sasha, the fashionista, was styling your box braids and applying your makeup while you looked in the mirror.

"Remember," She said, glancing over her shoulder, "confidence is key. Just be yourself."

After saying bye to Sasha and Maya, you closed the door behind you and took a deep breath. You were walking downstairs and Terry stood there at the bottom, clearly waiting for you.

His eyes widened, taking in every detail. You couldn't help but giggle at his look of awe. He seemed captivated by your radiant beauty, his gaze lingering on your elegant curves.

“Wow, you look beautiful,” Terry said. You smiled and looked him over, noticing he was wearing a black button-up shirt and shorts.

"Thank you. Um..you look beautif-I mean handsome!" You cursed at yourself in your mind, feeling totally embarrassed, and Terry found it cute.

"Thanks! Are you ready?" Terry asked, holding his arm out with a smile and you happily accepted.

Both of you walk leisurely down the path, arm in arm while listening to the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore accompanies you as you make your way to the charming ocean-view restaurant that overlooks the sparkling waters.

You and Terry walk inside, and the warm glow of the intimate setting welcomes you. You find a cozy table for two awaiting your arrival. Moments later, a friendly waiter approaches, ready to take your drink orders.

While waiting, Terry struck up a conversation that flowed effortlessly. His warm smile and engaging demeanor made it easy to share about yourself. With every exchanged joke and smile, you found yourself becoming more comfortable, as if he had a talent for bringing out the best in people.

His smooth charm was evident; he made you feel special and understood, gently encouraging you to step out of your shy little shell and embrace the moment because the air between you crackled with sexual tension, growing palpable by the minute.

The waiter approached your table, balancing a tray of drinks that shimmered in the dim light. He set them down before you with a polite smile. After taking your food orders, he left you both.

Terry, his eyes sparkling, leaned in closer, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“While we wait, how about we play a game of ‘Would you rather?’” Terry proposed, the excitement in his voice making the suggestion feel inviting.

"Okay," You replied, intrigued and ready to dive into the game.

“Okay, would you rather…” Terry started, propping his chin on his hand as he contemplated the question.

“Would you rather live deep in the ocean or explore the vastness of space?”

You paused for a moment, considering the options carefully. “Hmm, that’s a tough choice. But I think I would choose space,” You finally replied.

“Mmm, interesting! What makes you lean toward space?” Terry inquired, leaning forward with curiosity.

“I have always been interested in space and astronomy. If I could, I would be an astronaut, and the experience would be exciting,” You said, taking a sip of your wine.

"Wow, I would love to learn more about that, but it's your turn," Terry said, his eyes lighting up with curiosity and a warm smile spreading across his face. The "Would You Rather" game had been going for a while and had taken a slightly naughty turn.

Before long, the waiter arrives with both of your meals, setting them down on the table with a flourish. As the delightful aromas fill the air, you take a moment to appreciate the dishes before returning to Terry.

Intrigued by the connection you two are building, you changed the subject wanting to know about Terry's interests and experiences, eager to learn more about his passions.

Terry paused mid-sentence, his gaze falling on your necklace, which had come unhooked. With a gentle smile, he leaned in close and secured the clasp.

You found yourself momentarily lost in the warmth of his touch, savoring the soft caress against your dark brown skin, a delightful contrast that sent a shiver of warmth through you.

Terry pulled away, a smirk playing on his lips, and effortlessly transitioned back into talking as if nothing had happened. You couldn't help but notice his subtle game; it was working on you like a charm.

Your desire was intense, and your craving seemed to deepen with every word he spoke. You were utterly captivated, wanting him more than ever before.

After dinner, you both walk silently side by side on the beach. Your hands nearly touch until Terry grabs yours and holds it, making you smile.

You slowly look up at him, and you find that his eyes are already fixed on you.

"What?" You asked.

"Just admiring how gorgeous you are," Terry stopped you from walking by wrapping his arms around your plump waist.

You touched his chest, thinking you both would finally kiss. But Terry was teasing you again. He lifted you slightly, catching you off guard and causing you to drop your purse and heels.

“Oh my goodness, what are you doing, Terry?” You gasped, struggling to escape his firm hold on you.

“Let’s get in the water; I bet it’s cold,” He said, trying to pull you closer.

“No, Terry!” You squealed, quickly breaking free from his grasp and running away from him with your tongue sticking out.

“Hey!” he yelled, chasing after you. When he finally caught you, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and started tickling you.

You bounced up and down with laughter, trying to escape his grip. Just as Terry was about to say something, he accidentally tripped over something in the sand. Both of you fell together. You looked at him, and he looked at you.

You both laughed as Terry rolled off of you, pulling you onto his chest and kissing the top of your head, making your heart flutter. He eventually helped you out of the sand and retrieved your purse and heels.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, surprising him with the suddenness of your action. As you pulled back, a shy smile crept onto your face, and you turned your gaze to the side, feeling excitement and nervousness.

In an instant, Terry reached out, his fingers gently cupping your cheek, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes searched yours, a blend of sweetness and warmth reflected in them.

Then, without breaking his gaze, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing softly against yours as he kissed you, igniting a flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

You let out a muffled moan, feeling his hands gliding over your ass with a gentle yet teasing touch. Your breath caught in your throat, pulling away while feeling him firmly grasping it.

"Do you wanna continue this back at the villa?" Terry asked, his eyes darkened with desire as he looked down at you.

"Yes," you said, nodding firmly as you still held the gaze. Your voice remained steady, even as a whirlwind of emotions surged within you—excitement, desire, and a hint of nervousness mingled together.

-

Once stepped into the bedroom, Terry pressed you against the solid door. His lips met yours in a passionate, rough kiss, feeling an electric spark hit and made your heart race.

"I've been waiting to take this dress off you since I saw you in it," He murmured in your ear, running his hands down the bodice of your yellow dress.

"And it's just driving me wild," He whispered, which made you shiver.

"Well, take it off if you're brave enough," You spoke boldly, which made him smirk.

You gasped as he lifted you in his arms and carried you to the bed. You still couldn't get over the fact that he was so strong to pick you up, which was a turn-on for you.

He picked you down as both of you stood at the edge of the bed; he was kissing your neck, and his lips peppered on your dark-brown skin, pausing here and there to suck on the sensitive flesh.

His hand reached behind your back to find the zipper of your dress, pushing it down to your feet. You step out of it, and his hands touch your exposed breasts.

As you stood there, a wave of insecurity washed over you, causing you to shy away slightly. Just when you thought about retreating and hiding yourself, Terry stopped you. His gaze was steady and inviting, searching your eyes.

"You're beautiful, baby. Don't hide from me!" He whispers genuinely, making you feel warm inside. You kiss him as his hands grip your breasts.

You let out a soft moan, pulling away and popping his black button-up shirt open. You admired his abs and slid your fingers down his chest.

Terry shivered slightly at your touch; you had the same effect on him as he had on you. Both of you practically ripped each other's clothes. You gently laid yourself down as Terry hovered above you.

You pulled him down for another kiss as he cupped your right breast in his hand while his lips moved away from yours. His tongue dragged across the dark area of your areola.

"Such nice big tits, so good to suck," Terry growls and grabs both of your breasts with his hand, squeezing and sucking them, causing you to whimper.

"How does that feel, baby?" He asked, pulling away from sucking your nipples as his right hand traveled down to your wet folds, and circled them.

A loud moan escaped your lips, felt him push two fingers inside of you, prompting you to cover your mouth to avoid being heard by the others.

"Nah, baby girl, none of that. You have no idea how desperate I want to hear you moan for me. If you don’t let yourself make any sounds, I’ll have to find a way to draw them out."

"Yes-yes....ohhhh....It-it feels good....ahh......so good," You moaned, feeling him moved below and rested between your plump legs, glancing up at you. He spread them wide, getting a good look at your pussy.

"Mmmm, a pretty girl with a pretty pussy" He said before placing his hands on your legs and dragging his tongue between your wet folds.

"Yes....fuck....ahh fuck" You moaned, arching your back and grabbing your breasts as he repeated the action with more pressure, his tongue sliding against your bundle of nerves.

"Mmm, tastes so damn good, girl" His hands were holding your wide hips as he continued to suck and lick you dry, drawing desperate soft moans from your mouth. 

Terry buried deeper between your plump legs, which was driving you crazy. The pleasure you were feeling going through your body was so overwhelming.

"Ahh fuck, Terry fucking eat this pussy, mutherfucka" You moaned, and your fingers gently caressed his head, relishing the closeness of him.

Terry chuckles. "Mmm, there you go, keep talking nasty to me, baby. I see I'm bringing the best out of you, the freak in you," He said before resuming devouring your pussy.

Another loud moan escaped your lips as the pleasure built within you, clenching around his fingers while you felt yourself getting close.

"Are you gonna cum, beautiful?" He asked, moving up to look into your eyes and began to finger fuck you fast.

"Yes, Terry, oh shit.....fuck-fuck don't stop fuck." You cried, suddenly cumming hard, eyes rolling in the back of your head.

"Yeah, that's it, baby girl. Fucking cum for Daddy," Terry said, still fingering you and then smacking your pussy as wet gushing came out of you, causing you to cry.

"Shit, look at that, baby. And I did all that with my tongue and fingers; I can't wait to see how your pussy takes my dick" He said with a chuckle, licking his fingers, and you watched him coming down from your intense high.

You kissed him, slightly tasting yourself as he cupped your breast in his hand while your hand slid down his chest to his throbbing dick; you got a good look at it and gasped at it.

"Like what you see?" Terry whispered in your ear.

"Yes, it's so big," You moaned, moving your hand up and down his length as you kissed him again but deeply. A very deep moan came from his mouth when you got a little faster.

"Fuck, girl, I need you…" Terry said with a slight moan, which made you smile. He moved on top of you and slowly entered your folds, causing you to go bananas.

You were loving the fullness of his thickness inside of you as he began thrusting, drawing soft moans from you. Terry asked, looking down at you to see if it was good, but you nodded.

"Come on, baby. Don't get shy on me again; tell me how it feels?" He asked, his hands on your waist sliding down to grasp your wide hips, pulling you closer so he could bury himself deeper.

"Yes, Terry fuck me, fuck it feels good!" You moaned, wrapping your plump legs around his waist tighter, allowing a new, delicious angle that you both liked.

Your moans became louder and more frequent as his thrusts came faster but still as gently and passionately as ever.

"That's it, girl....let everyone know i'm fucking this pussy good, You like it, you like how I am fucking you" Terry moaned while his rhythm never stopped looking down at you with so much desire and lust;

"Oh yes, Daddy fuck me, it feels so good," You cried, looking up at him as he lifted your legs to his shoulders and pounding into you faster and harder but much more profound.

"Take that fucking dick like a good girl;" Terry growled, tightening his grip on your legs.

"....fuck are you about to cum, baby?" Terry moaned, feeling the warmth of your walls, clenched around him.

"Oh....yes, fuckfuckfuck..I'm-I'm cumming-" You moaned, digging your nails deep into his arms and scratching down.

"Fucking let it go, baby."

"AHHH!!" You screamed, coming hard again and Terry wasn't too far behind, cursing, pulling out; your legs immediately fell to his waist as his hot cum spurted all over your belly, making you slightly giggle.

"Shit," Terry cursed, lowered himself, and propped up on his left arm as his head buried in your neck.

He entirely collapsed on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him. You slid your hand up and down his sweaty back while he gave you small, lazy kisses on your face and neck.

Terry rolls off you, and both of you calm down from your high. You bite your lip and turn to prop yourself up to look at him.

"That was—" You couldn't decide what word to use. It was beyond amazing, it was...

"Mind-blowing, yeah," He agreed, looking at you and lifting himself up to kiss you.

"Up for another round in the shower?"He asked, pulling away and caressing your hip.

"Yes!" Both of you smirked at each other and got out of bed to walk to the bathroom; Terry made you cum two more times that night.

[silent-stories]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒

(aka noah is looking too cute in his hoodie and you can't resist)

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting soft golden beams across the room. The air smelled faintly of coffee, and the low hum of the TV provided a gentle background noise. You sat on the couch beside Noah, legs folded under you, your body turned slightly towards him. He sat close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, his familiar scent filling the space between you.

Noah had been talking for what felt like hours about this new video game he’d been playing, a glimmer of excitement lighting up his brown eyes.

His hands moved animatedly as he described a particularly intense boss fight, the sleeves of his oversized black hoodie hanging loosely over his knuckles.

You loved the way he looked in that hoodie. It was one of his favorites —worn and soft, slightly too big on his frame, making him look even more comfortable, if that was even possible. The way the hood flopped lazily over his head made him look effortlessly cozy. Effortlessly boyfriend.

You weren't really listening to what he was saying anymore, though. Your mind was elsewhere, lost in the easy cadence of his voice, the way his lips curved around his words, the way he’d glance at you every so often, as if checking to see if you were still following his story.

You’d known Noah for years, ever since you’d met through mutual friends. Over time, the two of you had grown close—late-night hangouts, inside jokes, and endless text threads about music, games, and everything in between.

It was the kind of friendship you cherished, but it also held a secret you weren’t sure you could keep to yourself any longer.

You liked him. More than liked him. In fact, you might be in love with him.

It wasn’t a sudden realization, though. The feeling had been there for months, slowly building every time he sent you a good morning text, or when he smiled at you in that soft, shy way of his. The crush had bloomed quietly, and you thought you could manage it, thought you could just push it aside and stay content with being friends.

But sitting here, so close to him, watching him light up over something as mundane as a video game, your heart ached with the weight of it. He looked so perfect in this moment, so comfortable and happy, and all you could think was that you wanted to kiss him so badly.

Your eyes drifted down to the hoodie he was wearing, the fabric bunching slightly as he pulled his arms back, resting them behind his head. The loose fit made him seem even softer, more like the guy you’d always imagined being with, not some distant, impossible dream, but someone real, right in front of you.

His hair was messy, falling into his face as he absentmindedly pushed it back, too focused on recounting his latest gaming adventure to notice the way your gaze lingered on him.

“—and then, after all that, the boss pulls this insane move, like totally unpredictable,” Noah was saying, his voice full of excitement. He leaned forward slightly, as if the memory alone was making his heart race all over again. “I thought for sure I was done for, but I got this idea, you know? Like everything just clicked.”

You nodded, but your thoughts were far from the battle he was describing. Instead, you were focused on how his hoodie seemed to swallow him up, the sleeves long, the fabric worn and soft, practically begging to be touched. He looked so… cozy. So sweet. You could imagine him lounging around in that hoodie all day, maybe curled up on the couch with you, his arm wrapped around you as you watched movies together, maybe even falling asleep on your shoulder. The image was so vivid, it made your heart swell.

“You should try it,” Noah said, his voice breaking through your thoughts. You blinked, realizing you hadn’t caught a word of what he’d just said. He was staring at you now, his eyes soft with concern. “Are you okay? You’ve been kinda quiet.”

Your heart jumped at the sudden attention. “Yeah, sorry. I was just... thinking.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he turned his body a little more towards you, giving you his full attention. “Thinking about what?”

You swallowed hard, not sure how to answer. What could you say? Thinking about how ridiculously cute you look in that hoodie? Or maybe, Thinking about how much I want to kiss you right now? No, those wouldn’t do. You were already feeling vulnerable, your emotions bubbling too close to the surface, threatening to spill over if you said the wrong thing.

“Nothing important,” you said, trying to brush it off. “Just… lost in my thoughts, I guess.”

Noah didn’t seem convinced. His eyes softened, his lips quirking into a small, knowing smile. “Come on, I know you better than that. What’s going on?”

You bit your lip, your gaze flicking down to his hoodie again. It was such a small thing, but it felt like the embodiment of everything you’d been feeling lately—how close you were to him, how comfortable, how easy it was to be in his presence, and yet how painfully aware you were of the unspoken feelings between you.

He looked so casual, so effortlessly himself, and for some reason, that made it harder to keep pretending that your feelings were purely platonic.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing. Before you could second-guess yourself, before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned forward, closing the distance between you. Your hand found his chest, lightly resting against his chest as you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was soft, tentative. You hadn’t planned it, hadn’t thought it through—you just felt it. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. The world around you disappeared, and all that was left was the warmth of Noah’s lips against yours, the way his body froze in surprise for just a second before he responded.

His hand reached up, almost instinctively, cupping your cheek as he kissed you back, his touch gentle but sure.

When you finally pulled away, your heart was pounding in your chest, your breath coming out in uneven puffs.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him right away, suddenly unsure of what you’d just done. Had you ruined everything? Was he going to pull back, tell you it was a mistake?

But when you finally forced yourself to meet his gaze, Noah was looking at you with an expression you hadn’t seen before. His lips were slightly parted, still processing what had just happened, but there was no confusion, no rejection. Instead, there was something softer.

“So… that’s what you’ve been thinking about?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laughed nervously. “Yeah… something like that.”

For a moment, there was only silence between you. You were waiting for him to say something—anything—but instead, he just stared at you, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to figure out what this all meant.

“I—” you started, but before you could say another word, Noah leaned in and kissed you again.

This kiss was different. It wasn’t tentative or unsure. It was full of something deeper, something that had been simmering between you for so long, waiting for the right moment to spill over.

His hand found its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate, as if he’d been holding back for too long and was finally allowing himself to feel.

When he pulled back this time, a little smile was on his lips.

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Yeah?”

Noah nodded, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he finally pulled back enough to look at you. “Yeah�� for a while now. I just didn’t know if you felt the same.”

You blinked, trying to process his words. “What?”

He chuckled, his fingers still gently brushing the side of your face. “Why do you think I’ve been coming over here so much? It wasn’t just to talk about video games for sure.”

You laughed, the sound coming out a little shaky. “I thought you were just being a good friend.”

“I mean, I am,” he teased, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “But I guess I wanted to be a little more than your friend."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest, the tension you hadn’t realized you’d been holding finally starting to ease. All this time, you’d been worried that your feelings would ruin things, that you’d be the one to overstep, but now… now everything felt right. Like maybe this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

Noah smiled softly, his hand slipping from your cheek to your waist as he pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around you in a way that felt so natural, so easy. You rested your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing your nerves.

For the first time, you allowed yourself to relax, to sink into the warmth of him, of this moment, of the quiet realization that you didn’t have to hide your feelings anymore.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

[dicipher]

SPOILERS for homicipher lore

the hand is not Chopped's hands. He specifies MEETING it. Therefor it's a seperate entity. Ypu'l also notice that it moves independently from Chopped, touching the hand does not stimulate Chopped, he doesn't feel it, confirming this.

Silvair was the one to chop of Chopped's body. This is said. If we also go off the fact he chops Adami if we attack him too easily, we can safely assume Chopped was a human that was transformed into a resident as well. Which would be a confirmed 'ex human' character

On that note, Adami notes her hair graying after staying in the world too long. Other characters with gray hair includes the hairdresser and Silvair. Does that relate to anything? Maybe not. But if hair becoming lighter is a result of humans exposure to the other world, that could include us, silvair, hairdresser, hugeface, chopped (even if his hair is not gray, black could lighten into grey, and brown could lighten into pale orange in his case), while characters with dark hair (gap, crawling, scarlet) could be native to the other world..... it's very possible this is just unique to us though considering everything else that's special about Adami.

Gap lacks a body, heart, etc, but he does have hands. Gap also is able to 'teleport' trough these places, like wormholes, since he's able to drag us trough places that should never connect. He's also able to fit in any space so long as it is: dark enough.

Silvair purely 'likes' us as a science experiment. Yes he is polite, yes he is kind, but that should not be mistaken with empathy. He specifies, if you ask him if he likes you, that he does not. He finds you entertaining. And he specifies he does not understand 'like' (in japanese like and love are pretty much the same word, so this essentially translates to saying "i don't understand love"). (Though because we just asked, it could be him saying "i don't understand why you're thinking i love you") either way, Silvair does not think of us romantically.

Our ability to regenerate our body entirely seems special. Silvair points out he finds it interesting, and Silvair is able to do it too (saying he will regenerate after we kill him) whereas any other creature we are able to kill doesn't display that ability.

It's not ENTIRELY clear what kind of power names hold to their kind. Scarletella getting our name is obviously: not good™️, but us giving him a name seems to make him our servant in some way. If you say Silvair's name in his route, he looks confused, and is quiet for a bit. Perhaps because in a way, you named him in that moment. Names deeply correlate to a person's identity, and it seems residents either do not have names (are not born with them) or lose them following their transformation in some way. Unclear on that. But NAMES. NAMES RELEVANT.

Considering Human's presence (in the original, he speaks english, while everyone else (other human characters) speaks japanese), either the world has different ways of entering (stuff 'falling' into the world seems to confirm that the elevator is not the only way in/out, it's just the ghost apartments way in/out), or he's a foreigner who happened to go by....

Residents exclusively feed on flesh and blood. Interestingly, though. When first meeting Stitch, he seems surprised to see a human (pointing and exclaiming "human!", asks crawling a bunch of questions, and finally asks crawling permission to eat us, specifying "they could be tasty!", which could indicate that either humans are rare in some way, or that stitch has never personally seen one, or he could see them plenty and just be curious about all of them like he was for us. Considering some don't seem to even recognize us as human (Chopped introduces us as a resident to Silvair even though Silvair recognizes us as human right away. This is early story too, so we aren't residents yet.), i think i'm leaning towards the fact most resident don't know what a human even really looks like. Thus, what are they eating? Probably each other. The food on the painting's plate, the meat on Silvair's table, and the mush Silvair turns into if you kill him all look very simmilar. This is also 100% confirmed, since Crawling specifies the ears he found are a resident's, before eating them at the end of the interaction. So residents most definitely engage in cannibalism, and eating humans is probably not necessarily their primary diet. (Except for Scarletella who we were unknowingly giving tons of human meat to by bringing the bodies to the ghost apartments for disposal. That's like some stranger delivering tons of rare expensive food to your porch. I'd fall in love too buddy.

[fratttymatty]

You've Been Chosen

Nate and Elijah had been inseparable for years. From the day they'd met at the local library, both young, quiet, and awkward in their own ways, to the years that followed when they’d discovered not only a shared love for literature but an even deeper connection — one they hadn't realized they were capable of forming. Their friendship blossomed into something more: quiet kisses in the park, whispered confessions late at night. It was a bond they knew was unbreakable.

They were happy, in love, and understood each other in ways no one else did. Their world was peaceful, and they thought they could weather anything life threw at them — until one summer day when everything changed.

The change began innocuously enough. It started with a strange email, sent from an address they didn't recognize. The subject line simply read: "You’ve been chosen." It was vague, with cryptic language and strange, almost otherworldly promises of a new life — a better one, it said, filled with strength, confidence, and success. Curious, Elijah opened it up.

But there was something… off about it. The email didn’t feel like a scam, not like the usual spam messages they received. It felt personal.

He glanced at Nate, a playful smirk crossing his lips. "Hey, Nate. I think we won the lottery. Want to see what they’re offering us?"

Nate didn’t respond at first, but when Elijah read it aloud, he raised an eyebrow. "That’s… weird. I don’t know. What if it’s some sort of cult or, like, a scam?"

"Nah, man," Elijah laughed. "It’s probably just some marketing gimmick. Let’s see what happens."

Neither of them realized how wrong they were until they found themselves standing together, one week later, in a sleek, modern room at the address provided in the email.

It was a small, almost sterile room with dark metal walls and a single chair in the center. They had entered together, but as soon as the door shut behind them, it locked with a loud click, and the lights began to flicker. Panic surged in both their chests.

Before they could process what was happening, a smooth voice, deep and calm, echoed from the walls.

"You two have been selected for a transformation. Prepare yourselves. The process begins now."

The words were final, and though they both tried to resist, to run, their bodies refused to move as something… shifted.

Nate felt a strange sensation spread through his body. At first, it was subtle—his hands began to tingle, then his arms, his chest, his legs. A rush of heat followed, making him feel like he was burning from the inside out. He looked at Elijah, but the sight of his boyfriend seemed distant, blurry, as though they were being separated by an impenetrable glass wall.

Elijah's breath hitched, his heart racing. He reached for Nate but felt his body contorting against his will. His muscles grew tight, harder, firmer. His once-thin frame began to bulk up with unnatural speed. His face started to change too: his jawline squared, his nose became more pronounced, his lips thinner. His eyes, once full of quiet warmth, now had a piercing, competitive gleam.

Nate could feel his body doing the same. His slender build was replaced by thick, muscular arms and broad shoulders. His skin darkened slightly, and his eyes shifted from a soft brown to a sharper blue, the deep love and empathy in them turning into something more detached, more predatory. His facial features became more angular, harder, like a statue chiselled to perfection.

As the transformation progressed, a strange sensation tugged at the roots of Nate’s hair. He reached up instinctively to touch it, his fingers trembling as a sharp, tingling pressure ran through his scalp. It was as if something deep inside his hair follicles was being pulled and restructured.

At first, his hair darkened, shifting from its natural brown to a deep, rich shade of dark brown, almost black under the bright, artificial lights of the room. The soft waves that had once framed his face, so familiar and comforting, were now growing thick and dense, the texture becoming more coarse. His scalp tingled as the strands grew shorter—cutting down to a cropped, tousled style that gave off a carefree, athletic edge. The waves that had once been loose and soft were now effortlessly styled, falling into place as though the perfect amount of tousled mess was intentionally crafted.

The hair wasn’t just shorter—it was sharper. His bangs, which had once softly brushed against his forehead, now lifted in an effortlessly messy yet purposeful way, as if styled by someone who knew exactly what they were doing. The way it framed his face accentuated the new, strong lines of his jaw, his angular cheekbones, and his newly defined, masculine features.

Nate—no, Jason—ran a hand through it, feeling the textured strands shift beneath his fingers, and he couldn't help but admire the way it looked. His hair now had volume, thick and strong, and he could tell that it would always look perfect—effortlessly sexy and rugged, the kind of hair that turned heads without even trying.

Beside him, Elijah’s transformation was no less intense. Elijah had always worn his hair curly, an unruly mass of dark tendrils that framed his face in a way that spoke of gentle chaos. But now, as the change took over him, his curls unraveled, twisting and straightening until they, too, darkened to a similar shade of deep brown. The once-wild curls became more controlled, shorter, but the same tousled, perfectly disheveled look that Jason’s hair now sported fell into place on Elijah’s head.

His hair was thick, but now it had that same rugged charm—messy, but in a way that suggested it had been styled by the hands of someone who knew how to pull off that effortless, “I woke up like this” look. The hair still had volume, but it was shorter and more structured, the kind of style that fit perfectly with his broad new shoulders and athletic frame. His hair seemed to have been designed to match his new, muscular persona: bold, attractive, and undeniably masculine.

As Jason and Tyler—formerly Nate and Elijah—stood together, they both reached up to feel their hair, marveling at the way it framed their faces now. It was so different from before—so right. The tousled texture suited them in ways they hadn’t even known they needed.

Jason ran his fingers through his dark, tousled locks, feeling the confidence surge within him again, that new, sharp, athletic swagger filling him as the weight of the transformation settled deeper within. He met Tyler’s gaze, his eyes full of an intense, competitive fire.

“Dude,” Jason said, grinning, “we look good.”

Tyler smiled back, his own tousled dark hair falling effortlessly into place as he shook his head. “We look unstoppable,” he said.

And with that, the two of them—no longer Nate and Elijah—stepped out into their new lives, their hair styled to perfection, their bodies transformed into something strong, athletic, and undeniably right for their new roles. The world felt like it was theirs for the taking.

The transformation wasn’t just physical. Their minds began to change too. Memories of books and poetry — the things that had once meant so much to them — began to fade away, replaced by thoughts of weights, gym routines, and the thrill of competition. They felt a strange sense of pride surge within them as their new identities took root.

For the first time in their lives, both Elijah and Nate felt strong, undeniably powerful. But it was an overwhelming, alien feeling. It felt right in ways they couldn’t explain, and the weight of it nearly crushed them as their old selves—soft, introspective, sensitive—began to feel like a distant dream.

The voice spoke again, like a final verdict.

"You are no longer who you were. You are now Jason and Tyler — young, athletic, confident men. Your previous lives no longer matter. You are made for greatness. You will no longer seek love in the way you once did. The bonds you had are severed."

Jason—Nate, now no longer holding onto his past—felt a surge of pride. He looked at Tyler—Elijah—and for the first time in what felt like forever, the attraction was... different. His mind registered his boyfriend, but there was something else. Something about the new version of Tyler made him feel... competitive. Desirable in a different way. He wasn’t sure how to reconcile it. He just knew it felt right. The confusion was buried beneath layers of muscle, of physicality, of instinct.

Tyler—Elijah—didn’t resist either. He looked at Jason, his new, broad chest puffing out as a rush of dopamine flooded his mind. He smiled, feeling the weight of his new body and the confidence that came with it. This new life, as a jock, a bro, was exhilarating.

The door opened, and they were led out, no longer the quiet, tender souls they had been, but two young men with a new sense of purpose. Their old relationship—soft, tender, intellectual—was gone. Their bond now, their connection, was forged in shared strength, in the thrill of physical dominance, in the unspoken power that surged through their veins.

Jason, with his broad, muscular shoulders and chiseled abs, nudged Tyler with a grin. “Yo, let’s hit the gym. We’ve got work to do.”

Tyler, now as tall and athletic as Jason, returned the smile. “Hell yeah. Let’s do this.”

They were no longer Nate and Elijah. They were Jason and Tyler, and they didn’t want to go back. In this new life, they were strong. They were perfect. And for the first time, they felt like they had found where they truly belonged.

As they walked into the bright sunlight, muscles flexing beneath their tight gym shirts, they couldn’t help but laugh. It felt so good. So right.

The past was forgotten.

And their future—together—was unstoppable.

As Jason and Tyler left the strange, metallic room, the world outside seemed brighter, louder, and somehow better. Their bodies felt different—stronger, more confident. And something deep within their minds had shifted too. The connection they once shared, tender and intimate, now felt distant. The quiet bond of their past lives seemed like a distant memory. They weren’t the same people anymore.

It was hard to explain, but as the minutes passed, it became clearer: they weren’t just different in appearance. They were changed, in the deepest parts of them. The world around them—once a place full of quiet contemplation and hidden desires—was now something else. Something simple. Something new. They felt a surge of straight masculinity rushing through them, their minds rewiring to focus on new things: sports, strength, competition. And, of course, women.

Jason turned to Tyler, his voice suddenly rough and confident. "Dude, we gotta hit the gym. Get those gains. We can totally crush it at the football tryouts next week."

Tyler, standing tall beside him with that signature, broad-chested swagger, grinned. "Totes, man. I’m ready to dominate. The ladies are gonna be all over us."

For the first time, Jason felt the thrill of wanting women in the way Tyler spoke of. He wasn’t looking at Tyler the same way anymore. He was looking at him as a bro, someone to team up with. That old, deep feeling of love for each other had been buried beneath this new, primal sense of camaraderie.

And sure enough, not long after, their transformation was complete in every way. The world they walked into was different, and it embraced them. They both began to notice the women around them, their new bodies and newfound swagger immediately attracting attention. In their minds, they were no longer Nate and Elijah. They were Jason and Tyler, and they were ready to conquer everything—starting with the opposite sex.

It didn't take long before they met the two girls who would change their lives: Hailey and Kelsey.

They were everything Jason and Tyler had never noticed before. Blonde, bubbly, and a little bit ditzy, they wore skintight leggings and crop tops that barely covered their chests, their eyes bright with naive excitement. Hailey, with her long, bleached blonde hair and impossibly tan skin, smiled at Jason and Tyler like they were her ticket to something new and exciting.

"Oh my God, you guys are, like, so cute," Hailey said, flipping her hair dramatically as she approached them, her voice thick with that slightly high-pitched, breathy tone that spoke of a lack of concern for anything outside her immediate world. She blinked a few times, taking in their chiseled, athletic builds, and giggled. "Totes, like, you guys look like such jocks. Are you into, like, football or something? My ex totally played football."

Jason, now fully embracing his new identity, grinned at her, his mind instantly shifting into alpha male mode. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and gave her a once-over, appreciating the way her curves filled out the tight, pink tank top she wore. "Yeah, babe. Football’s our thing. We're on the varsity team," he said with a cocky smirk, leaning back slightly to show off his chest.

Kelsey, standing next to Hailey, took one look at Tyler and squealed, practically bouncing up and down. "Oh my God, you’re like, so hot!" she gushed, her wide blue eyes scanning him with clear admiration. "I just love a guy with abs, y'know?" She laughed, looking a little too excited for Jason’s taste but in a way that was undeniably flattering. "Like, you're, like, totally the type of guy I could, like, see myself with! Do you, like, work out a lot or whatever?"

Tyler couldn’t help but smirk, flexing his arm slightly, his muscles popping in his tight gym shirt. He hadn’t worked out this much in his life, but he could see that it was paying off. "Oh, you know," he said with an air of casual arrogance, his deep voice now a clear reflection of his transformation. "I’m at the gym, like, every day. Gotta keep the body tight for the ladies."

Hailey giggled at that, nodding enthusiastically. "Omg, yes, totes! I love when guys are, like, super fit and stuff. It’s, like, so hot." She tilted her head and pouted, giving Jason a flirty smile. "Do you, like, want to go out sometime? You know, like, maybe grab a smoothie or whatever?"

Jason felt the surge of masculinity flow through him, the confidence making him feel unstoppable. A smirk tugged at his lips. "Yeah, sounds good," he said casually, already picturing the kind of date they would have—a simple, straight-forward affair with Hailey, where his new identity would be put to the test.

As the four of them stood there, chatting about workouts and the latest school gossip, the feeling of the old Nate and Elijah—their quiet, intellectual selves—seemed more and more like a distant, meaningless memory. They couldn’t even remember the last time they'd shared a moment of vulnerability or tenderness. In fact, the more they spoke to Hailey and Kelsey, the more they realized how little they missed that past life.

Their conversations now revolved around flexing muscles, sharing workout tips, and planning group outings. Hailey would giggle and run her fingers through her hair, occasionally tossing out phrases like, "Oh my God, like, totes!" while Kelsey would swoon over Tyler's abs, telling him how she "just loved a guy who could throw a football."

Jason, now fully in sync with his new identity, couldn’t help but laugh at how different everything felt. It wasn’t that he missed who he was before—it was that he didn’t even want to be Nate anymore. He wasn’t looking for poetry or deep conversation anymore. He was looking for the next adrenaline rush, the next win on the field, the next perfect girl to date.

And with Hailey, and with Kelsey, the world felt right. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders confidently, pulling her closer, feeling the perfect balance of masculinity and attraction.

Tyler did the same with Kelsey, his grin wide, his posture a perfect reflection of a new life.

"We’re gonna crush it this season, bro," Jason said to Tyler, his voice now heavy with the satisfaction of their transformation.

"Yeah, man," Tyler agreed, his voice thick with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what he wanted. "With these girls by our side, nothing can stop us."

In this new life, as Jason and Tyler walked away with Hailey and Kelsey, the past seemed like nothing more than a fading dream. The transformation was complete. There was no room for doubts, no room for second thoughts. They were jocks now, strong, straight, and fully entrenched in the world they had been designed for.

And as they left behind the old versions of themselves, they couldn’t help but think, with a satisfied smile: This is it. This is who we’re meant to be.

[frogs-crackcorner]

An Angel All My Own P-1

Simon Riley x reader

Cw: fluff, out of character moments, my ADHD really shines through, reader likes older men

Captain John Price has been a family friend for as long as you can remember. He was always a kind man. Ready to chase you around the garden when you were little or throw you into the pool as you got a bit older. He was practically your uncle and fun one at that. He was always coming over to your parents house for weekend dinners and birthday parties. So it only seemed fair to invite him to your house warming party.

You had finally saved up enough money for a modest home in the country. It was on a rather large piece of land, mostly forested with a big clearing around the house. It was a little unnerving at night so you were glad that you weren't too far away from town, only about 15 minutes or so. The house only has three bedrooms but that was plenty for you since you were living alone. It was a cute little house with a spacious kitchen and a wrap around porch. You had started renovations the day you got the keys. You painted the walls, polished the floors, and swept out the fireplace. You took down the old lights and added some rugs. You planned on turning into the perfect cottage.

With your house nearly done, you wanted to invite some friends and family over for a house warming party. You ran into Price as he was leaving your parents and invited him to come too.

"That's fantastic, lass. I don't suppose you mind if I bring my team along? We're shipping out that evening and will be together anyways," he grins.

"Of course not, the more the merrier. It was nice seeing you, John," you chirp back.

"You too, lass. And hey? I'm proud of you." He tips head to you before strolling off to his car.

------------------------------<>------------------------------

The day of the party soon arrived and you were a bit of a mess. You had spent the morning baking cookies and getting things set up. You had set up chairs outside near the fire pit. Fairy lights were strung around the porch. A table with toppings, chips, and drinks was set up near the grill and you had all the burgers prepped. Now all the was missing was the guests.

To your surprise, Price was the first to arrive. You were just setting the cookies on the table when you saw his truck coming down the long driveway. You walked over to greet them as he was parking the truck. John stepped out and gave you a quick hug. "Good to see you, lass. The house looks lovely," he greets. A young man comes around the truck, his skin gold in the light of the sunset. "This is Sargent Garrick," Price says, clapping him on the back, "we just call him Gaz tho."

You hear more car doors slamming and two more men step out of the truck. "And these two muppets are Sargent Mactavish and Ghost," Price introduced. You look over to see a smiling Scotsman and what you can only assume is a mountain in tactical gear. "Mactavish, ma'am. Pleased to meet you. Just call me Soap," the Scot drawled through his thick accent.

"What was that?" Gaz exclaimed.

"Price said I 'ad to 'ave good behavior with the little lass," Soap shouted back. Gaz started to laugh. "And that's your best?," he chuckled, "Sorry bout him. He's used to being a flirt so he's off his game. Nice to meet you, I'm Gaz." He gave you a dazzling smile, shaking your hand. You could feel your cheeks start to heat up.

"Nice to meet you too. All of you," you said shyly. Price shot Gaz a pointed look and Gaz let go of your hand. It appears they had been given strict orders not to flirt with you. It was a little disappointing. They were gorgeous men and didn't seem much older than you. Well, two of them were gorgeous. You weren't entirely sure about the third. He had on a baseball cap and a black surgical mask. Deep brown eyes stared back at you, a little sunken in with dark circles around them. They seemed to pierce your very soul. You drop your gaze and turn back to the other men.

"Well you guys are the first ones here. Feel free to make yourselves at home. I've got everything set up on the side of the house. There are snacks and drinks if you'd like. I just need to grab a few more things from the kitchen," you say, leading them up to the house.

"Let us help," Price offers, "then you can give us a tour of the place."

"Do you guys want a tour?"

"Of course, bonnie. Want to see all the work you've done," Soap chimes in.

You open the front door and let them all inside. "Okay, well, this is the living room. I restored the wood floors, upstairs and downstairs. I took out the overhead lights and added wall lamps instead. Most of the decorations I found at a vintage market and I made the rest."

"Here in the kitchen, I redid the tile. The old tile was chipping for some reason. I took out the old white sink and installed this copper one. Oh, I completely redid the porch. A lot of the old wood was rotting. You can see the string lights I added," you say, pointing out the kitchen window. As you do, you notice two more cars coming down the driveway.

"The guest and master bedroom are upstairs. The office and bathroom are just down the hall to the right. I would show you the rest but more guests are arriving and I still have a few things to get done," you finish, picking up a bowl of salad from the counter.

"What can I do? Have you started up the grill?" Price asks.

"Not yet. Would you mind doing it?," you reply.

"Not at all. Gaz! Mactavish! Help the little lady take the rest of the food out," he calls, his voice commanding.

Soap and Gaz turn from their spot in the conjoining dining room.

"Right Captain. What would you like me to take?," Gaz asks.

"If you wouldn't mind taking the burgers and ribs out. And Soap if you could grab the napkins right there," you directed. "Oh I forgot about the ice." You begin shifting the items in your hands around to be able to grab the ice. Suddenly, wordlessly, Ghost is taking the bowl of salad from you and following the others out the kitchen door. His giant frame seemed out of place in your quaint home. His large black silhouette a stark contrast to the usual green and gold of the kitchen.

Although he was mountainous and rather intimidating, there seemed to be something else in his eyes. He almost looked lost. Sort of sad. He was calculating but not callous. He seemed to be on edge, not because he was inherently violent but because he was forced to be. You supposed it was all too common in their line of work. No one has ever told you details of what John Price and his team did for work but you knew they were military. You weren't a child anymore, you knew the horrors of this world. You couldnt even imagine the things these men must have seen.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and went to greet the rest of the guests. Price has fired up the grill and was putting burgers on. The smell of smoke and summer grass hung heavy in the air. Guests milled around and chatted, several of them congratulating you on your new home. Your mother gave you a hug and told you how proud she was.

The night moved on without a hitch and soon most of the guests had gone home. You began throwing away the used cups and paper plates. "I got the grill all cleaned up for you lass," Price says, dusting off his hands.

"Thank you, you really didn't have to," you remarked.

"I know but it was the least I could do. We've got to get going, we have a plane to catch. Come on boys! Let's pack it out," he shouts.

"That's right! You're leaving. Hold on. Stay here," you urge, rushing into the house. You return with a brown box tied with twine. "Here. Thought you guys might want some treats for the trip," you offer. He takes the box from you.

"Thank you, lass. Though I don't expect these to last long, those muppets will have them eaten in the blink of an eye," Price smiles. Just then, Soap came running up.

"What's in the box then?," he asks.

"Nothing you can have right now. Get in the truck," Price chides. He's such a dad, you think to yourself. Soap slumps dramatically before giving you a cheeky grin.

"Lovely to meet you, bonnie. Hope to see you again soon," he smiles, kissing the top of your hand before jogging off to the truck. Price scowls at him as he disappears. Gaz and Ghost join you and price on the front lawn.

"Goodbye, love. It was wonderful to meet you," Gaz purred.

"You as well, Garrick," you tease. He gives you a quick wink before heading to the truck as well. Ghost goes to follow him before stopping and turning back to you. "Thank you," he mutters, his voice a deep rumble.

"Of course. You're welcome here anytime," you stutter.

As you watched them pile in and drive away, you had no idea how literally Ghost would take that offer.

(Let me know how you feel about the first part and any ideas you have, I'd love to hear your feedback)

[maracujatangerine]

Hi I'm thinking a normal amount about Absalom today! Snooty Good PetTM who still (at least in Brutus' nightmares) moves to shield the others. Could we maybe hear a little about him and Brutus interacting (do they get to interact??) or how they first met or their first impressions of each other or. Anything like that? I love they and your writing is always tasty. -@secretwhumplair

86. Introducing Pets

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

”Do you really want to put them together, love? I mean, Brutus can be a bit high-spirited, and he is quite a lot stronger than your pet.” Wayland Jones shook his head. “I don’t want anything to happen.”

“Ah, don’t worry so much, dear. That nice WRU consultant did recommend for them to get some alone time together to suss each other out. And…” Cecilia twirled around gracefully, making her red skirt swirl out around her. Playfully, she put her hands on his shoulders, reaching up to give him a light peck on the cheek. “… since we are going to live together now…” She beamed, and turned to continue onwards down the corridor. “…we can’t really keep them apart for ever. Besides, we’ll just give them a few minutes, how bad can it get?”

“Let’s try it. I left Brutus in the hallway.”

“And Absalom is in the bedroom. I’ll go and get him.” She went eagerly, heels clacking against the floor.

Brutus and Wayland arrived first. The black-haired guard dog obediently went to kneel on the floor next to the unlit fireplace. His casual attire of dark grey sweatpants and t-shirt matched in colour, but clashed in tone, with Wayland’s dark grey suit and white shirt.

“I really want this to work, so make sure that you don’t mess it up for me.” Wayland’s hash tone made Brutus flinch. “She likes her pet, so be sure that you are nice to it. Understood?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. In fact, I count on you to keep an eye on Absalom. Romantics are smart enough to get in all sorts of trouble, but stupid enough to not get out of it again.”

“Yes, Master.”

Soon, the door swung open and Cecilia entered, Absalom half a step behind. At his mistress order, the pet knelt on the other side of the fireplace. He was elegantly dressed in a light blue vest over a white shirt, matching blue trousers, and his wavy, brown hair tied at the nape of his neck with a brighter blue ribbon. His collar was soft, grey leather, in sharp contrast to the black, synthetic material around the guard dog’s neck.

“Absalom, this is Brutus.” Cecilia said, grinning at the formality of introducing the pets to one another. “Brutus, this is Absalom. We want you to get to know each other better, so we’ll give you a few moments to talk.”

Both Cecilia and Wayland went towards the door.

“Have fun, pets.” She smiled. Wayland caught Brutus’ eye and mouthed; ‘Behave’.

As the door fell shut behind them, both pets stared awkwardly at each other for a moment.

Then, Absalom rose gracefully to his feet. The small scar on his upper lip emphasised by his sneer.

“Well, well… look what the cat dragged in….” In an undertone he added. “Though of course it would have to have been a fairly large and weight-bearing cat.”

He danced quickly backwards when Brutus also came to his feet. “That was a bit of a joke.” The pet said quickly, blue eyes wide. Finding himself, he tilted his head and tried a winsome smile. “I’m not usually meeting guard dogs. You are very imposing close by, darling.”

Standing face to face, they were almost the same height, but Brutus’ muscular heft compared with Absalom’s lithe build made the guard dog probably twice as heavy. They watched each other warily. Then, Brutus broke the silence with a shrug and a smile.

“I’m not used to your sort either.” He admitted, and scratched his head. “Actually, Tte last time I saw a romantic was when we got an old one as bait. He was just running around like a headless chicken and Jazz almost crushed his head when he knocked him out.” He chuckled. “It was actually quite funny… he…” Brutus looked up and finally seemed to register that Absalom’s somewhat condescending smile had frozen and turned into something more resembling a rictus grin. “Eh… He was all right, though… or at least he survived.” He swallowed, and tried again. “I wouldn’t do that to you, though. My Master has told me to be nice with you.”

“Okay then.” Absalom went for a forced, chipper tone. “We’re going to live together, we need to get along.”

Brutus nodded and held out his hand. “Truce?” Absalom studied his face for a moment, hesitating. Intensely blue eyes searching dark brown.

Then, carefully, he reached out his thin, carefully manicured hand, and clasped the the guard dogs darker, larger hand in his own.

“Truce.”

*

Everything feels a bit dark and scary in the world at the moment. Especially when things feels like they are going the wrong way, I think it is really important to involve yourself with actually trying to improve things, preferably together with other people in the world out there.

It is, however, also important to keep your own spirits up, so I took this advice, and decided to make something today. I have been twisting and turning this wonderful ask by @secretwhumplair in my mind for a while, and it finally clicked together in a way I’m happy with. I was also inspired by this ask. Thank you so much for the ask, @secretwhumplair, I hope you’ll enjoy Brutus and Absalom’s first meeting! ❤️

*

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[effortlesslytired]

I have no other explanation other than I can't stop thinking about them and am mentally unwell. This was supposed to be quick and short, if you count 3k+ words to be quick and short then sure... Summary is the original prompt, couldn't find something that fit so I wrote it myself. Did this all in one 12 hour night shift and just did one look over for editing, so if there are mistakes uhhh keep that to yourselves, enjoy!!

Crowley's Fall and Aziraphale's Awakening

Aziraphale stood in the middle of the room, the projection playing loudly and clear and his heart shattering at the truth he’s finally witnessing.

Crowley has never talked about his Fall, his descent from Heaven to Hell and being forced to become a Demon, but Aziraphale always had the feeling that what he’s heard through rumors wasn’t the truth. 

He remembers the days of Crowley with striking brown eyes, radiating warmth and glimmering gold when a ray of sun would hit them just right. His passion for building the creation of stars and nebulae, the utter joy on his face was enough to distract Aziraphale while he worked. The amount of times the Angel would be with him as Crowley worked, and the feeling of admiration that coursed through him seeing his friend so happy. 

Aziraphale watches as Crowley is stripped from his job, forced to undergo a permanent transformation and the agony as his brown eyes morph into what he knows them to be to this day. The yellow pulsing from his pupils, covering the brown and bleeding into the white while he scratches at the skin when the pupil begins to mold into the snake-like slits. His screams are echoing against the porcelain white walls of the room, stars shining above and Aziraphale weeps as Crowley begs Gabriel for him to see the stars – his stars one last time. 

Gabriel laughs at the Angel, forcing the stars to shine brighter and mocking the Angel stripped from his position while all Crowley can do is cry out. 

“I can't see them.”

The Archangel’s chest squeezes in sorrow, his friend, his love, on his knees in a desperate last attempt to not have his pride and joy taken from him. Even if he got to see them one last time, it’s all he wants. 

“You questioned the will of God, you’re defiant and untrustworthy to the cause of us Angels. Enjoy your time in Hell.”

Gabriel’s voice is booming, a wave of his hand and Crowley is flat on the floor, his wings pinned to the ground as the white feathers are ripped from his body and new growth replacing them with the stark black. 

The screams are excruciating, forcing Aziraphale to look away as the audio continues to play on. The vulnerability of the Demon hidden and a reason Aziraphale never knew, never understood why Crowley was how he is. 

“I didn’t question God, I just wanted to create.”

Gabriel’s laugh is bitter at the sounds of Crowley’s pleas. Mocking the Angel with black wings and yellow eyes. 

“You just asked the wrong ones.”

The Archangel snapped his fingers and others poured into the room, yanking the now Demon on the floor to his feet and not paying any mind to the bloody mess pooled around him from his wings. Crowley screams in pain, but no one seems to care as they drag him to the elevator doors, barely on his feet and stumbling trying to get his footing. The Angel’s holding him up throw him into the open doors, looks of disapproval and disappointment not hidden at all as their eyes settle on him. 

“Maybe Satan would rather listen to your pathetic ideas because they have no place for you here.”

Crowley’s crumbled body fights to stand up, to try and get himself back out from the elevator but the doors are already closing and the projection abruptly cuts out. 

Aziraphale stands in the silent room, staring at the wall now bare and his mouth wide open. His Heaven would never do such a thing, never cast someone out for ideas and questions for making beautiful things. He wants to believe there was another reason, another bad thing Crowley committed to cause him to Fall. There has to be another reason. 

But the projection doesn’t lie, and wouldn't lie when the proof is right there. 

Aziraphale turns in his spot, storming out of the room and finding the Metatron at his desk. His face lights up as he sees Aziraphale approaching, however, his expression quickly falters at the look on the new Archangel and the anger radiating from him. 

“He Fell because he wanted the world to see the stars? He Fell because he had questions to make the Universe radiate with light and beauty?” His voice is panicked, the gentleness he meant to convey gone as the desperation for answers over powers. 

“Ah, you saw the Fall.” It’s not a question and it only makes Aziraphale more upset. 

“You Angels stripped him from his holiness and cast him out for something so trivial.” Aziraphale stops at the other side of the desk. “How can I help run Heaven when all we do is punish those who want to make our domain more?”

The Metatron sighs, sitting back in his chair and looking up at Aziraphale. “He was deviating from our plan, he did it to himself.”

The audacity of the Metatron has Aziraphale reeling, taking a step back and looking appalled at the Angel. 

“I can’t be who you want me to be knowing you did this to my friend.” He bites, shaking his head and looking towards the windows lining the walls. Bright and sunny, clouds beyond, a gorgeous place, a place Aziraphale thought he could trust. 

“Do you realize what you’re saying Aziraphale? If you think that you can just step down and go back to what you were before, you’re wrong.” The Metetrom stands to his feet, rounding the desk and looking at the Archangel with the same disgust in his eyes that those other Angels did to Crowley. 

“I do.”

“This was what we were afraid of, your so-called friend has corrupted you. We were all afraid he was more than that.”

Aziraphale scoffs. “So what if he is, when I call he comes. When I need him he’s there, even if he helps and does something nice despite his demonic blood. He’s still the same person he was before when he was an Angel.”

“Do you realize what you are saying Aziraphale? If you don’t see why we did what we did, those who don’t believe in God's plan will be stripped from their titles. You’ll become a Fallen.”

“I don’t care.” Aziraphale stands on his ground, a slight feeling of fear drops in his stomach but he holds on strong. 

“Very well.” The Metatron waves his hand and Aziraphale can feel the angelic energy stripping from his very skin, a layer peeling off like dead skin and nothing like what he saw from Crowley’s Fall. 

“Why is this different? What you all did to Crowley was horrifying.”

“Would you rather I did the same to you?”. The Metatron’s eyes narrow in on Aziraphale and the Angel quickly shakes his head. 

“Do you wish to grab things from your desk?” 

He thinks back to his office, a few belongings on his desk with little importance. “I don’t need to, everything I have and want is on Earth.” 

“Fine, once you step through the elevator doors you won’t be allowed back.” The Metatron gestures for him to leave, turning back to his desk and sitting down in the chair. He doesn’t even look at Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale only nods and turns on his heels, walking fast as if he could find a part of himself changing his mind on the way to the elevator doors. He breaks into a run, wanting to get away from the truth that was revealed as fast as possible, a bead of sweat pearling on his forehead, a breath of relief escaping him as he turns in the elevator and presses the button down.

It feels like an eternity as the elevator makes its way towards Earth, and Aziraphale sends out his power, scanning for Crowley. He’s shocked to find his presence still at the bookstore. 

After he left to take on the role as an Archangel, Aziraphale assumed his Demon companion would have fled to his home, roam the Earth and cause havoc without even thinking of Aziraphale again. The presence at the bookstore is a hopeful wish, a breath of relief and his heart squeezed tightly. 

London is the same as it was when Aziraphale left, gloomy and rainy, the streets bustling with life even with the chill morning air settling a heavy fog on the streets below. The coffee shop is open and flooded with customers, Aziraphale can make out the faint silhouette of Nina behind the counter. 

His gaze turns to the bookstore on the corner, an open sign hanging on the door but quiet. From his view he can still make out the stacks of books lining the shelves and walls and he’s grateful that nothing has seemed to be sold. 

There’s a moment of slight panic in the Angel now Fallen, a moment of resentment at what he’s become and what he just did. He doesn’t feel any different than when he was an Angel, and he can still feel the crackle of holy — unholy power pulsing through his veins. It doesn’t seem to be all that bad in his opinion, this newfound power he possesses. It’s a thought he pushes to the back of his mind, the sort of regret he knows he’ll feel eventually for abandoning his position and his faith for a sliver of hope that may not even be reciprocated. He convinces himself he did the right thing, at least for now, and that Crowley being at the bookstore still is the only kind of motivation he needs. 

Aziraphale opens the door to the store, the familiar chime of the bell rings from above and the smell of old paper floods his nose, and it’s Muriel he sees first. The Angel beams at him, admiration still in their eyes. 

“Aziraphale, welcome back!” They’re ecstatic, barreling towards the man at the door. “I haven’t sold anything just like Crowley told me!”

Aziraphale scans the interior of the store and his eyes fall to the Angel in front of him. “I’m glad to hear it, say where is he?”

Muriel’s smile only grows more, the praise from Aziraphale coursing through them. “Oh he’s around here somewhere, I was just talking to him a moment ago.”

Aziraphale nods and looks back towards the store and takes a few more steps in, his movements coming to a complete halt when Crowley’s lanky body trapezes down the spiral staircase and freezes as their eyes connect. 

“Muriel, would you give us a moment? Maybe go across the street and enjoy a nice cup of coffee.” Aziraphale says, never once looking at the new owner of his bookstore. 

“Oh, Crowley has told me about Nina and her coffee, can’t say I’ve ever—”

“Muriel, please.” Aziraphale cuts in, finally breaking eye contact with the Demon and looking down to the Angel. 

Muriel salutes him. “Yes, of course.”

Aziraphale doesn’t watch as Muriel leaves, only knowing they’re gone once the bell chimes above the door again. There’s a sickly silence that settles in the store, neither one of them daring to speak or move as they size each other up. It’s Aziraphale who breaks first. 

“Why did you never tell me?”

Crowley raises an eyebrow, his eyes hidden behind the glasses but Aziraphale knows they’re burning a hole in his face. “Tell you what Angel?”

Aziraphale winces, looking down at the floor and back up again. “About that…”

“What did you do?” Crowley is in front of him then, Aziraphale feeling bare and naked as Crowley examines the once before Archangel. He knows Crowley can read him like a book, knows that even without needing to speak a single word Crowley can predict his thoughts, his movements, lays him out on the table and strips him of his secrets. 

“Aziraphale… what happened?”

“Your Fall, the pain and torment they forced you to endure.” Aziraphale wanted to be strong for this, supportive and caring, but the second he saw Crowley it all came crashing down. 

“You stupid Angel, why did you go looking for it?” Crowley saunters across the shop, sitting himself down in the chair he always seemed to occupy when it was just the two of them. 

“I’m not the Archangel anymore, Crowley. I don’t… I don’t know what I am anymore.”

Crowley looks at him, really looks at him this time and he pulls the glasses from his face. “You Fell.”

Aziraphale only stands in the middle of the room having taken a tentative step forwards. He knows he doesn’t have to say anything to confirm it, knows Crowley knows. He reeks of sin now, the glow of his angelic presence gone. 

“You stupid idiot, what did you do?” Crowley pleads again. 

Aziraphale takes a deep breath, ready to face it. “I saw how you Fell, why you Fell. You wanted to create, to give the humans the gift of the stars and make the universe beautiful. You had dreams, and yet you were cast aside and forced to never see them again. What do you think happened, Crowley?” He challenges, a spurt of annoyance oozing from his skin. 

He continues. “I saw Gabriel, the way he stood there and smiled while you bled out and the other Angels who dragged you to your descent. You were forced through torture and torment in Hell all because you asked questions about God’s plans.” He takes a deep breath, not realizing he had taken a few more steps towards the Demon. 

“I watched it all and confronted the Metatron and he told me if I had sympathy for you, he questioned our relationship and told me if I couldn’t forgive the Angels and God for what they did that I no longer belonged in Heaven.”

Crowley sighed, sitting forward in the chair and ran his hands down his face. Aziraphale couldn’t read what the expression was, a look of surprise, relief? Resentment?

“So what, you’re a Demon now and you expect me to just stand here with open arms, excited about the fact that you are here to do what? Run off into the sunset and go live somewhere else because the last time we saw each other you decided to go with Heaven over me.” His words are meant to be biting, Aziraphale can tell, though the words lack that anger. 

Aziraphale winces, he knows Crowley is telling the truth, and he honestly doesn’t know what he wants, but right now he just wants to see his friend, the one person he knew he could always count on. 

A million stars in the sky created by Crowley, a Demon forced to see nothing of them and Aziraphale doesn’t know what he wants. Doesn’t know how he can ever deserve the sort of forgiveness he thinks he’s asking for from him. The sight of Crowley laying in blood, begging for Gabriel to change his mind and let him stay, but cast aside anyways flashes across his mind. 

Aziraphale readjusts his posture, his shoulders back and he looks down at Crowley. “I made a mistake.”

“Understatement of the century.” Crowley rolls his eyes, sighing as he leans into the chair. 

“I’ll do the dance, you were right.” He suggests, his hands on his hips and ready. 

Crowley waves a hand at the not-Angel, resting his head on a hand. “I don’t need you to do the dance Angel, you took your path and left me here.”

“Crowley please, I need you. I saw what you saw, I see now what you wanted, what we could have.” Aziraphale throws caution to the wind, bordering on the sounds of begging to his friend. 

Crowley stands to his feet then, towering over Aziraphale and forcing him to cower a little at the intimidating aura the Demon eludes. “Oh please, you think I’ve been pining after you since you left? That I stayed here in this godforsaken bookstore because of you?”

Aziraphale’s eyes snap to Crowley, his eyebrows knitting together at the last statement. “Why did you stay?”

“I—” Crowley steps back, his mouth snapping shut with a lack of response. 

“For a Demon you don’t act with evilness Crowley, you stayed because you’re nice, because you know how much these books mean to me.” He waves his arms around him, gesturing to the packed spaces filled with books – his books. 

“Angel we’ve been over this, I am not nice—” Crowley attempts to take another step back as Aziraphale walks towards him, but is stopped at the feeling of the chair hitting his calves.

Aziraphale stands in front of him, looking up with sorrow and longing and Crowley’s eyes filling with vulnerability. 

“Maybe not, but you’re in love…” Aziraphale is standing in front of his Demon, his hands reaching up and cradling the face of the man he didn’t realize until now, but he’s “and I’m in love too.”

There’s tears in Aziraphale’s eyes, a look of desperation as the pair of them stand so close Aziraphale can feel the warmth of Crowley’s breath across his lips. They stand there and stare and the once before Angel can see the stars in the yellow of the Demon’s eyes. The universe is thriving within them, the sun shining bright and radiating light, and there’s a slight flicker of hope, of a lifetime dying to be released. 

“That’s a bold claim, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale chuckles, his chest tight and his cheeks warm. “It’s a bold claim for someone who knows they’re right.”

“You didn’t want to be us before…” The Demon fights with a lack of malice behind his words. 

“And yet I realized what a stupid mistake that was because us is all there ever was, all that I ever needed, all we have ever needed.”

Crowley’s breath hitches and for a moment Aziraphale watches the bob of his throat and thinks “fuck it”. His other hand is up on Crowley’s cheek, cradling the sunken face of the Demon and pulling him towards him. 

Their lips meet with hesitancy, different from the desperate kiss Crowley gave him months ago. This one full of love and confusion and fear at what’s next. Azirpahale’s hands are moving back on Crowley’s face, tangling in the hair that’s grown ever so slightly and holding onto the man. He can feel Crowley’s own hands wrap around his body, pulling them flush together and the heat is scorching. 

They kiss with a passion of 6000 wasted years, of stolen glances, time lost and spent together. It’s a kiss that is long overdue and a contract signed for what’s to come. They have centuries to figure out where they will go, what more than can explore and how to navigate Aziraphale’s new life, but this single moment with both of them wrapped in one another and neither one wanting to let go. 

Crowley pulls away first but doesn’t move away. “Do you hear that Angel?” 

Aziraphale looks around, straining his ears and listening. The faint sound of chirps and melodic singing floods his ears. 

There’s a beaming smile on the Demon’s face when Aziraphale looks back at him. “It’s the sound of Nightingales.” And Crowley pulls him back in for another kiss.

If anyone has a fic where Aziraphale finds out how/why Crowley fell and it’s soul crushing with a happy ending, I will give you my first born child

[astralmarionette]

dear God i will PAY edgar to get better clothes

[araguaneys]

The worst is when another latino dehumanizes us as if they aren't the same or similarly mix of ethnicities as if they aren't also fucked, as if literally MOST if not all of us have a history of dictatorships from different political alinements and YES being fucked by western imperialism but also our greedy "leaders" and shitty politics, as if the left and right or center actually did all they could or helped anyone, as if it couldn't happen to them next...you are the most depressing of them all if you're not with us and you are the ones that sound like gringos.

It's time you all get educated and you see beyond the decisions of our governments and the past problems we've had because of them, or BEYOND THE XENOPHOBIA and migration crisis, all of latinamerica is filled with people of all races like you and me that deserve empathy and not to get abandoned by you all.

Lo quieren en español? dale pues.

Lo peor es cuando otro latino nos deshumaniza, como si no fueran la misma o similar mezcla de etnias, como si sus países no estuvieran jodidos támbien, como si literalmente la mayoría de nosotros no tuviéramos una larga historia de dictaduras de distintas alineaciones políticas, o SÍ no estuvieramos jodidos por el imperialismo estadounidense/occidental pero támbien nuestros "líderes" avaros y políticos de mierda, como si nuestras izquierdas o derechas o centros de verdad estuvieran haciendo todo lo que podrían o ayudaran de verdad, como si no les pudiera pasar a ustedes después... la falta de apoyo de uds son de lad que más me deprime, y son uds los que suenan como gringos.

Es momento de que se eduquen y vean más allá de las decisiones pasadas de los gobiernos o la historia de problemas que hemos tenido por ellos, O LA XENOFOBIA y crisis migratoria, toda latinoamérica está llena de gente como tú y yo de todas las razas que merecen empatía y que no se les abandone.

[creaturefeaster]

WOW!!! WIRE YOUR PROFILE CHANGED!!!!

new era new me

[atopvisenyashill]

they did not dress him well enough in got look at this work he’s got this shit ON now compare it to got

[duck-noises]

crocheted Brok & Brok

i love my mother so much for making my favourite guy of all time. she is amazing, i love you mom :)

[dawnthread]

five gil for a flower? :3

[mrs-jake-blues]

Maybe I’m being too negative but bruh what

[aleki-lives-here]

[lizclipse]

Sword - (3d, Blender)