#but the guitar sits on his crotch as he performs and he gets aroused again

[fobnsfwdoodles]

Wake up babe new Patrick jerking off doodle just dropped

[santiagogarcia]

cold hands, warm heart

Pairing: Llewyn Davis x fem!Reader

Summary: Llewyn's cold and wet and he doesn't have a place to stay for the night, so you bring him inside. As one does.

Rating: E/M (18+)

Content warnings: explicit sexual content (unprotected p in v sex), recreational drug use (pot), strong language, reader has a broken foot, modern setting

Word count: 2.2K

A/N: This was my contribution for @sergeantkane’s Oscar Fandom (Valentine’s) Fic Exchange back in February. But since I was on a health-related hiatus, it got published on AO3. I’m finally posting it here. Obligatory: I’m more gifmaker than writer, English isn’t my first language, and my spelling is a wildly inconsistent combination of British and American.

For @wasicskosgirl​

A flurry of pain-induced curses rises from two floors below and you peer down through the fire escape grille. A man, poorly dressed for the weather, with a headful of drizzle-softened Roman curls and a guitar case, nurses the stinging fingers of his right hand. They’ve narrowly escaped being amputated by the Allen’s heavy, faulty sash window. Yeah, Marty’s been meaning to ask the super to fix that.

“Hey,” you call down, your breath misting the frigid mid-February air, “you okay?”

He blinks up through snowflakes floating down like cherry blossom petals. “I guess?” He kneads his wounded fingers into the palm of his left hand. “Just so you know, I’m not breaking and entering. You don’t need to call the cops or anything.”

You know. You recognised him immediately. “It’s Llewyn, right?”

A frown knits his brows. Warily, he asks, “Do I know you?”

“Not really. I see you come and go every other week, though. Marty and Sue must really like you.”

“Like is a strong word," he says, with a snort. "I think they just have a high tolerance for my bullshit.”

Your baked laugh—too loud and girlish—echoes in the narrow alley. “Can you get in?”

He shakes his head. “Latch’s caught. Looks like I’m locked out.”

“They leave you a key?”

“They’re not that tolerant.”

It's not like you're shouting, but your voices carry in the close air and neighbours are already yelling at you to shut up. You laugh it off and wave Llewyn up to your floor.

He gives the window to the Allen’s apartment a forlorn, longing look—as if he just blew through Plans A through Z for the evening—and trundles up the rattling steel steps. His nose twitches when he gets to your platform and sees you wrapped up in an old comforter like a human burrito, nursing a hand-rolled joint. “That what I think it is?”

“It’s medicinal,” you say, innocently, nodding at the orthopaedic boot encasing your fractured foot and offer him the spliff.

He hesitates, like it’s some kind of trap, then shrugs out a ‘why not’ and sits beside you. “Llewyn Davis.” He offers you his hand, fingers poking out of frayed gloves.

You give them a cursory examination. “I don’t think there’s any permanent damage. Always hurts more when it's cold.” But, just in case, you don’t let go of his hand, incubating it between your gloves.

“That your professional medical opinion, Doctor…?”

He’s fishing for a name, which disappoints you, because you thought he'd remember. Most men remember the girl they get punched in the face over. “Dancer, not doctor," you correct, hoping it will jog his memory.

He glances at the boot. “Someone tell you to break a leg and you took them literally?”

“Funny. When you’re the wrong side of twenty-five old injuries start to add up.” You don’t want to embarrass yourself with the truth: that you tripped over your own feet.

Llewyn dips his chin into his scarf and wraps his free arm around his legs, prompting you to share your comforter. He huddles gratefully beneath it and you can feel the damp through your parka. “What happened to your coat?”

“I’m between coats right now. It’s—” He passes you the joint and tries a name on you that almost offends you. “Right?”

“Not even close. You really don’t remember me at all, do you?” Were you really that forgettable?

“Nonono—you're the pretty girl at the Allen’s New Year’s Eve party.”

You roll your eyes. That was almost smooth, except there were a lot of pretty girls at that party.

“Waitwaitwait, it’s—” His second guess is so close you decide to finally tell him who you are. A smile of recognition and realisation dawns on his face. “Yeah, that's it. I remember your boyfriend, too. Kind of a jerk, as I recall.”

“So were you,” you point out and Llewyn doesn’t disagree with you.

“I was kind of a sorry mess that night. I wouldn’t’ve hit on you if I’d known you were with someone. Your boyfriend gonna come out here and punch me for talking to you again?”

“I’m between boyfriends right now. And if it’s any consolation you were right about him: he was kind of a jerk.” But you don’t want to ruin your high by discussing your ex. You nod at the guitar case at Llewyn’s feet. “I’ve seen you perform a couple of times.”

“Yeah?”

“At Arliss and that place on West Twenty-Sixth—”

“The Owl Bar?”

“What a weird place.”

“I know, right? It’s almost creepy.” He steals a glance at you, looks away so you don't accuse him of staring. “Would I have seen you on, I dunno, like Broadway or something?”

“I was never that good of a dancer. I teach four-to-seven-year-olds the basics of ballet over at the Academy.” The snow’s coming down fast and heavy now and you brush the flakes crowning Llewyn’s curls. “Think we’d better get inside. You know if you don’t have a Plan B, you can stay here tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll figure something out.”

“Now?” It’s after midnight. “Llewyn,” you reason with him as he helps you to your feet, “unless you’re planning to murder me, my roommate and her cousin, it’s fine. Really.”

“You got a couch I can sleep on?”

“Couch is taken." You explain your roommate’s cousin has an audition at Julliard in the morning. Llewyn starts to say something about the floor being fine, but you cut him off. “You can sleep with me.” Shit, that came out wrong. “In my room I mean.”

◻️

It feels like you’re back in high school even though you’re a grown-ass woman and neither your roommate nor her snoring cousin would have any objections to you bringing someone home. You usher Llewyn into your cosy lamp-lit room and tell him to remove his clothes.

He blinks at you with lashes so stupidly long and thick you’re sure they brush his cheeks. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t mean all of them. Jesus. I’m gonna lay them over by the radiator, dry them out.” You grip a fistful of his sleeve. “I don’t know how many blocks you walked in the rain, but you’ll be lucky if you don’t catch a cold, or worse.”

Timidly, Llewyn shrugs the corduroy jacket off his shoulders. You won't understand until much later that it’s not being stripped down to his underwear that embarrasses him—he's not shy in that way. It’s your kindness. It’s unfamiliar to him; something he’s unaccustomed to navigating. While you hobble out to the living room as quietly as possible, he sits tentatively on the edge of the bed, figuring you’ll throw him a spare pillow and a blanket for the floor. So when you return and tell him he’s welcome to share your bed, he’s even more awkward and out of his depth. The floor is an option—whatever he’s more comfortable with (you make sure he knows that)—but you seem so comfortable and unbothered by his presence that he decides to take you up on your offer.

And it's not like either of you plan to have sex or that it even crossed your minds (well, maybe a little). It sort of just happens; born of an unspoken need that you both share, and it starts when Llewyn shifts restlessly and his hand brushes the skin at the small of your back where your tank top has ridden up.

“Jesus!” You stiffen beneath the duvet.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I wasn’t tryna cop a feel, all right?”

“It’s not that—Are your hands always that cold?” It feels like someone backed you against an icicle.

“I can put the gloves back on…”

But he doesn't need to do that. You reach behind you for his arm and wrap it around you, lacing your fingers through his and your body heat slowly does the trick.

“Better?” His breath warms the back of your neck and he shifts to close the space between the two of you.

“A little.” You squirm and clamp your thighs together to stem the first prickle of the heat that’s begun to throb between your legs—involuntarily pressing the curve of your ass into Llewyn’s crotch. He responds receptively, even before an apology has formulated in your brain.

“Can I touch you?” His voice is husky, filled with the gentle promise of sex and you’re immediately intoxicated by it. If you’re really honest with yourself, your attraction to Llewyn was instantaneous; you’ve wanted him since that New Year’s Eve party. You think you might have left with him if your dickhead of a boyfriend hadn’t made a scene and Llewyn hadn’t escalated things.

In answer you guide his hand down beneath the waistband of your pyjama bottoms and inside your underwear. Llewyn pushes into the V between your thighs to palm your cunt and you roll onto your back, hoisting your hips and ass to get your PJs and underwear down over your thighs. He thumbs your clit with skill and attentiveness, as if he were strumming at the strings on his guitar. The appreciative moan that escapes you is muffled as his mouth meets yours. Tonguing at the seem of your lips, he plunges a probing middle finger inside you. Blindly, you feel for Llewyn's boxers and tug them down over the swell of his ass until his arousal bobs free and you’re both half-naked.

“Fuck,” you hiss as he slides a second finger, knuckle-deep, inside your pussy. With one hand threading through his thick dark still-damp curls, the other takes his length and begins to stroke him.

“You want me inside you, dove?”

“Yes.” Fuck yes. You know he’s just as eager for you when he begins thrusting into your palm.

Llewyn withdraws his fingers to help both of you out of your remaining clothing and then grips the base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance. Your petulant whine at his aching, teasing slowness is swallowed by a gasp when he finally pushes inside your heat. With a curse of tortured ecstacy, he fills you, his breath hot and damp against your skin. For an agonising moment that stretches unbearably, he stills—to let you adjust to him, to appreciate the delicious fullness—until you half plead, half order him to move. Llewyn doesn’t need to be told twice, rocking into you with shallow, measured thrusts that build to a feral crescendo; rough, hurried, balls-deep and cervix-bruising. He tells you how good you feel, how warm and wet and soft you are and your pussy clenches around him as if to draw him deeper, wanting him to hollow you out.

“Can I cum in you?” He’s close to his climax, breathing heavily.

You tilt your head to nod against his shoulder and moments later Llewyn loses himself inside you with a cascading, half-choked moan of release. The pulsing knot at your core unravels, the walls of your cunt spasming to send warmth and eye-fluttering shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. He fucks you through your orgasm, his pace slow and languid and sensual until you come down and he softens, his cum-smeared and pussy-slicked cock slipping out of you.

Llewyn shifts to your side, pillowing his head in the crook of your neck, arm slung across your breasts. Your bodies are sheened with cooling sweat and you pull the covers up over you before fisting your hand into his locks. A trembling sigh escapes him and his grip tightens around you, holding onto you like a drowning man hanging onto a buoy. Your bladder feels uncomfortably full and your cast-encased foot itches like a motherfucker but you don’t move. You don't let go of Llewyn Davis, either.

◻️

“You know I’m playing at The Small Blues Club tonight,” he tells you at the door, whispering because the Julliard cousin is still fast asleep on the couch.

“I did not know that,” you say.

“It’s over on Bleecker. You could come…if you wanted—that is, if you’re not doing anything. I don’t know what your plans are…if you have plans.” He rambles uncertainly. In the snowed-in, washed-out watercolour dawn there’s something diffident and a little standoffish about him; as if he knows the light exposes him for what he really is: a struggling musician trapped in a Kafkaesque existence, the future bleak as the New York skyline in winter. Probably not something a pretty ballet teacher with an apartment and a good credit score would be interested in. “Maybe I could buy you a drink afterwards? I know I’m kind of doing things ass-backwards but I'd really like to see you again. Last night wasn't just—”

“On Bleecker?” You rescue him from himself. He’s so wrong about you: you are interested. “What time should I be there?”

Llewyn scratches his forehead like you've surprised him with a complex math problem. “Any time after seven?” Like it's no big deal; trying to conceal his excitement the way people who are used to being disappointed often do. “That mean you’ll be there?”

“It’s not a date,” you warn, in your most serious teacher-voice.

“Oh, no,” he agrees, nodding along earnestly, “definitely not that.” It's his eyes that give that give him away: big and brown and puppyish, and smiling.

You both know it definitely is.

[joontier]

Buzzkill

김태형

Kim Taehyung

Fandom: BTS

Pairing: taehyung x reader

Genre: SMUT, humor, fluff, tae as a husband and dad! au

Words: 2.1k

Summary: The title says it all...

Note: AGHHH THIS IS THE FIRST TIME IM POSTING SMUT AASDFJS please tell me if it’s okay or not!!

MASTERLIST

You’ve invited other kids from the block to come over for your son’s sixth birthday party, and everything was going as planned, until you’d suggested the lot that you bake the cake together and now the first floor of your house looked like a hurricane swept through it. Hyunjae’s toys were strewn across the living room, flour-covered stools in complete disarray, and your son and his friends were running around the house like their lives depended on it.

You’ve found the sight endearing at the least, since it’s been a while since Hyunjae was running around wildly like this. The last time he was this energetic was when you and Taehyung brought him to an indoor playground place and the kid was literally bouncing on his feet the entire time.

Hearing a pattern of knocks coming from your front door signaling your husband’s arrival, you wipe off the rest of the flour stuck on your cheek as you walked towards the door. Revealing your husband who was struggling with unbuttoning his cufflinks, Taehyung looked up from his wrists and a boxy smile suddenly appears on his face at the sight of you.

He gave you a chaste kiss on the lips as you both stepped inside, and Taehyung takes off his coat and hangs it on the coat hanger. “How was work today?” You asked, assisting him with the cufflinks. “Stressful as usual,” he breathed out, hands going up to rub at his face.

Hyunjae suddenly appears from the living room followed by the rest of his friends, “Daddy’s home!” he shouted, forgetting about his peers and running towards the man in front of you. “There’s my boy!”

“Daddy do you know what day it is today?” your son questioned, enthusiastically wriggling his eyebrows at the birthday decorations you set up around the house earlier this morning.

“Um…no? Is it a special day today?” Taehyung squinted his eyes, brows furrowing in feign innocence. God, Hyunjae took after his father so much.

Tears started bringing in the corner of Hyunjae’s eyes, and before any of them threatened to fall, Taehyung carried him and spun him around, Hyunjae giggling in surprise, “I’m kidding son, happy birthday Hyunjae,” Taehyung put him down and your husband crouched down to his level, “How about you grab your gift from the porch all right?”

The excited kid squealed in excitement and sprinted towards the door, two other friends on his tail. As you went back to the kitchen to continue cleaning, Taehyung headed right to your daughter, who was standing on her crib, holding onto the wooden columns for support, clapping at the sight of her father.

Grateful was an understatement every time you looked at your small family of four, as you were blessed with such a loving and supporting husband and two beautiful kids. Life was bound to get harder as the kids would grow up and you’d encounter plenty of challenges along the way, but now you just wanted to bask in such a beautiful moment.

You watched your husband interact gleefully with the children surrounding him. Leaning against the door frame, your eyes followed Taehyung who reached for the guitar sitting near the fireplace and he twisted the knobs to tune the strings and when he was ready to give the performance of their lives, he adjusted himself on the stool he was seated on and coughed to get everyone’s attention, including yours.

Fingers strumming effortlessly a familiar tune, Taehyung smiles up at you as memories of him singing to you on date nights flood into your brain and he looks back to the children, serenading them with his deep voice. He sang his own rendition of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love, one that had bits of your husband’s silly character and musical talent.

Taehyung sent a wink in your direction as he finished the chorus and as much as you’d like to stay until the end of the song, your brain decides to send a vivid image of the kitchen mess you have yet to clean before the other parents start arriving to pick up their children. You head back to the kitchen with a sigh and resumed arranging the chairs and table.

Finally halfway with cleaning the kitchen counter, you placed the dishes on the sink when you felt a pair of hands settle on your waist, sending a good wave of warmth throughout your body, until Taehyung starts to push his hips towards yours, his erection pressing against your ass.

Gasping at the feeling, you sense a grin spread across Taehyung’s face, and he grinds himself against you one more time and you found yourself pushing your ass backwards, desperate for more friction. Unfortunately, you both hear footsteps running towards the kitchen and Taehyung instantly moves to the side, acknowledging the presence of the children in the area.

The man successfully convinces the children to leave the kitchen and nears you again, “This isn’t over yet babe,” Taehyung whispers and bites the shell of your ear while doing so, giving your ass a squeeze before leaving you in such a frustrated state.

The rest of the day went in such a blur, soon enough your neighbors started picking up their kids, thankful for the temporary break you gave them from the responsibilities of parenthood.  

You’d gone to the bathroom and started a well-deserved bath. After checking the temperature, you went back to the dresser to take off the diamond earrings Taehyung gave you for your fifth anniversary. Taking out your razor and a new bar of soap from one of the drawers, you went to the bathroom again, turned off the faucet and stepped in gingerly.

Slipping lower into the tub, you smiled to yourself as you felt your tense muscles relax after such a hectic day, and only a bath like this would’ve given you this unworldly sense of relief. Reaching for the soap, your lathered up and shaved your legs afterwards. You hear Hyunjae’s and Taehyung’s laughter from the down the corridor, and you decided that Taehyung might stay for a few more minutes in his son’s bedroom before he comes back to yours.

So you decided to stay in the tub for a little longer, until you felt your fingers starting to prune, and you stood up and toweled off, walking back to the dresser. You decided on a short and sultry night dress, top cut low and slightly revealing the mounds of your breasts. You weren’t sure if there was still going to be sex, but you know for sure that Taehyung was just as aroused as you were a couple of hours ago – and knowing your husband, he doesn’t stop until he gets what he wants.

Settling on a comfortable position on the bed, you blindly grabbed a book from the lower drawer of your bedside table. Not wanting to wake up your daughter who was sleeping in her crib beside your bed, you laughed inwardly as you looked at the book of your hand’s choice, 50 Shades of Grey. You were pushing your luck here, and subtlety was never in the vocabulary of an aroused human being, like you now.

Smiling as you slowly thumbed through the pages, looking for the bookmark you’d left in one of the pages, a square pack of foil falls from the farther end of the book and by time you bend over to pick the condom from the floor, you’d put a hand to cover your mouth from producing laughter that might eventually wake Jaeun up.

Keeping the foil packet under layers of clothes in your dresser, you went back to the bed, thanking the universe for sending signals towards you getting some tonight. Taehyung suddenly bursts through door and you have to shush him before he makes any more noise.

Nodding in reply, Taehyung begins to undress himself hastily and soon enough he was only in his boxers and walking towards you with such intensity and desperation that your previous giggly state was gone in seconds.

The bed creaked as Taehyung crawled into the bed and settled himself between your legs, kissing you with such fervor. Peppering you with kisses all over your face, your neck, your chest, his hands roamed all over your body, enjoying the way your body was flush against his.

His grip on your waist tightened and you let out a small whimper as he kissed down on your collarbone and towards the top of your silk-covered breasts. You’d learn this particular preference of Taehyung when you were first started fooling around, and Taehyung had shyly suggested that he enjoyed it more when you still had clothes on during sex (especially in nighties), not that sex with you was unenjoyable, but he found it more…thrilling.

He let go of your waist to bring his hands up to your breast, squeezing them gently through the smooth fabric. Looking up at you from under his eyelashes, he trailed his fingers all the way to your thighs, sending goosebumps throughout your entire body.

Reaching down to reciprocate the immensity of his actions, you ran your palm against the outline of his cock straining against his boxers. You’ve decided that this wasn’t enough for either of you so you wrapped your legs around him and brought him closer to you, grinding your crotch against his shamelessly.

Taking his lips off your neck to let out a low growl, Taehyung lowered himself so he was facing your aching core, gently trailing a finger along your drenched underwear, a wet patch staining the cottony fabric. Your insides were already burning with anticipation, your back arching off the bed in desperation.

You knew Taehyung wouldn’t be able to take this foreplay any longer, and before you got a word in, he roughly pulls down your panties down to your ankles and positioned himself at your entrance, sliding his cock along your wetness.

He entered you slowly, grunting at your tightness, a feeling that just seemed to keep on getting better and better. He pushed his dick in to the hilt, your warm walls wrapped around his cock, a snug fit. “Move please,” you whimpered and Taehyung grabs the headboard for support as he thrusts into you, hips gradually bucking faster against yours.

The feeling was unworldly, with every last drag of his hips you felt the lust, passion, love. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you neared your climax and you knew Taehyung was nearing orgasm too, judging by his heavy breathing and guttural groans.

The door knob twists, and Taehyung pulled out of you in a millisecond, leaving you even more desperate than you were a couple of minutes ago. Here came the only good thing while keeping your clothes on during sex – no need for covers. Your son comes in the room, hair disheveled and all, one hand hugging a pillow to his chest and the other tiredly rubbing his eyes.  

“What’s wrong buddy?” Taehyung asked sitting up on the bed.

“Can’t sleep…thunder…” Hyunjae, too tired to form coherent sentences, dragged his feet across the wooden floor and jumps on the bed to occupy the space beside you and closes his eyes to sleep. 

You don’t hear anything from Taehyung after your son jumped on your bed. Soon you see Taehyung pull the covers on top of you and you felt defeated and frustrated at the same time, not even getting to orgasm once. Seconds later, you feel his hands snake from your waist to the inside of your thighs, lifting it up.

Taehyung slides into you with ease once more, and the hand that your head previously rested on has gone to your mouth as you moaned onto his palm. He was going at such a smooth pace, and if he’d gone a little faster the bed would creak and move too much, which might wake your son up.

You tightened with every slide of his cock, feeling every single detail making your insides knot up and your mind fuzzy. He shifted a bit and lowered himself, and started to thrust deeper into you, panting and grunting breathlessly into your ear. His other hand went up to grope at your breasts, squeezing to help you reach both of your highs.

With one last sloppy jerk of his hips, he paints your walls white, sending waves of pleasure to your body. You rarely orgasm at the same time but when you do, the feeling is beyond heavenly.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, opening your eyes as the hand on your mouth lowers and moves back to grip at your waist. Taehyung just grunts in reply and continues to thrust into you, riding out his orgasm, yet you felt numb and scared at the same time.

“Taehyung,” you whispered again, harsher this time, and he realizes you were frozen in place, until he follows your line of sight and gulps.

“Tae, I don’t think Jaeun is ready to know how she was made yet.” You blinked as your daughter’s eyes does the same.  

[missmeikakuna]

So, Apparently, I Find Fairies Hot Chapter 6

Rated: T

Fandom: Original Fiction

Relationship type: Male/Male

Description: You know those movies and TV shows in which an effeminate gay character has a crush on the popular jock? Strike that, reverse it.

Daniel is technically popular at school but fades into the crowd. After an injury at footy (Australian football) practice, he is forced to focus on improving his grades, starting with English. Luckily, the new kid in school knows a lot about Shakespeare and is willing to tutor him. Now if only this new guy wasn’t so attractive.

CONTENT WARNING: Homophobic slurs are used. Also, there are some sexual references but nothing too graphic.

Chapter 6: Is it gay to go to a concert with a guy?

Daniel’s head was light but his heartbeats carried the weight of a stampeding wildebeest’s footsteps. He hobbled out the door using his crutches, his newly-fixed leg still numb even though a few hours had passed since the operation.

His nostrils widened as fresh air graced them with its presence. Several people were sitting in their wheelchairs and smelling the small selection of daffodils, roses and some strange native flower that Daniel couldn’t recognise. He made sure to keep some distance from the flowers to avoid triggering hay fever symptoms but they smelled lovely from where he was. He limped slowly so as not to arouse suspicion, looking for an exit. He saw a carpark in the corner of his eye and grinned.

‘You there, where are you going?’

Shit. Daniel turned and saw a nurse. He took a deep breath to give himself time to think. ‘I want to have a smoke with my friend. He’s in the carpark.’

‘Aren’t you a little young to be smoking?’

‘I’m of age.’

‘Do you have any proof?’

What was this man’s problem? ‘I don’t know if you realise this, but I’m in the hospital. It’s not like I have my ID on me. Would you like me to limp home and get it for you?’

The nurse pursed his lips. ‘Very well. Have fun with your friend.’

Daniel resumed his journey, holding in a sigh until he was sure the nurse was gone. It took him half an hour to limp home. He had to ignore the strange looks and refuse the offers to help take him back to the hospital. He had to say he wasn’t crazy so many times he started to wonder if he really was crazy.

He patted himself on the back when he managed to get up the stairs to his room within five minutes. The numbness started to fade but he still limped as he made his way to his wardrobe. No way was he going to go to the date wearing the white t-shirt and tracksuit pants his mother brought to him before the operation. She was supposed to take him home but received a call from work.

He gulped. Wait, date? What the hell am I talking about?

He pulled out a leather jacket and put it on over a grey shirt. He chucked some jeans on and shook his leg in the hopes that he could get rid of the remaining insensateness.

He laid his crutches on his bed and walked back down the stairs, a tiny bit of numbness still there. His light head got to him and he had to clutch the rail until his dizziness subsided. However, he continued moving forward, even if it was in incremental steps.

He caught the train to the city, trying his damndest not to vomit as the train swayed back and forth harsh enough for Daniel to feel like soup being stirred in a pot. He kept looking at the time on his phone.

Suddenly the train stopped. It wasn’t at a station. It just stopped. The announcer’s whoops-I-spilled-some-beer-at-the-barbie voice made Daniel’s hand curl up into a painfully tense fist.

‘Unfortunately, the train ahead of us is delayed. Sit tight and we should be ready to continue in a few minutes.’

‘A few minutes’ passed. Then another few. ‘It looks like we’ll be here for another half hour,’ the announcer said. ‘It might be a good idea to call your workplace if you’re heading to work. Sit tight and we should be ready to resume shortly.’

Groans and cries of, ‘Bloody public transport’ poisoned the air.  Daniel finally realised how sweaty and humid the air was with everyone packed together like chickens in a cage farm. Loud, perpetually groaning chickens that swore every five minutes.

Daniel stared at his phone again and took a few deep breaths to stop himself from hyperventilating. 6:30. It was going to take at least half an hour to get to the city, not to mention the time needed to catch a tram from the station to the venue.

He opened up his text messages and went to message Eddie when… his phone died. ‘Shit,’ he whispered. There was no way he was going to pay a fine for swearing on public transport, even if everyone else was doing it.

Finally, the train resumed and got to the city like nothing had happened. Daniel started running to the tram stop but felt dizzy again, so he had to stand with his hands on his thighs for a little while. He inhaled and continued running.

He took the tram and resorted to looking at his watch. A quarter to 8. ‘Fuck.’ Another whisper.

He showed his ticket to the woman at the door of the arena. As the door opened the sound trampled him.

Or rather, sounds. The high-pitched guitar solo. The discordant and yet perfectly fitting piano. The microphone-amplified voices that alternated between rapping and growling about war. The hundreds of voices trying to mimic the rapping and growling. Daniel had heard this exact song before, and yet this live performance managed to shake him to his core. He was so invested in the music that it took him a while to remind himself to find Eddie.

He stood in the dark, trying to read the seat number on his ticket. After a minute or so his eyes got used to the dark. He made his way to his seat, but Eddie wasn’t there.

He looked around and saw a group of people cheering at the front of the balcony. One boy was dancing, his long ponytail bouncing as he banged his head and his pale skin glowing in the little bits of light coming from the stage. Daniel drank in the sight, crossing his arms to prevent himself from hugging him.

He tapped his shoulder. Eddie turned around and grinned. ‘About time!’ he yelled.

‘You have no idea what it took for me to get here!’

‘What?’

‘You have no idea-’

‘What?’

‘Nevermind!’

The song changed and Eddie squealed. He headbanged for a while before looking at Daniel, tapping the other boy’s head to get him to copy him. Daniel shook his head. Eddie pouted.

Daniel watched Eddie for most of the concert, though he sometimes looked around him to make sure no one was glaring at the boy. He expected someone to scowl at his effeminate friend, but no one did. Not many people seemed to notice him despite his large arm movements as he danced. One person joined in and danced next to him.

Half-way through the concert, the lead rapper grabbed a trombone from the brass band behind him and mock-played it while holding it near his crotch. Daniel suddenly took note of the tight leather pants and the toned abs of the shirtless lead rapper. He looked at Eddie again and wondered what got him into metal.

Daniel’s ears felt full as the chugging guitars, warlike sound effects and booming voices stuffed themselves into his mind. The occasional changes in rhythm were a little distracting, though he guessed that was the jazz influence. He remembered Eddie going on and on in the hospital about syncopated rhythms. 

When the concert ended, Eddie gulped as much water as his wallet allowed him to buy in the lobby. 

 ‘How was it?’

Daniel smiled. ‘It’s really a different experience, hearing it live.’

‘I know, right? Thank you so much for coming! That was amaz-’

‘Is that you, Ed?’ A masculine voice called out. Eddie froze.

Another voice was added. ‘Of course, it is! He’s got the same face.’

The first voice raised in volume. ‘His hair’s grown longer, so how was I supposed to know for sure?’ The voice then softened, turning almost into a satire of a mother’s voice. ‘Where’s your girlfriend? Did she break up with you?’

Three boys stood with their hands in their pockets. One, the owner of the first voice, wore baggy jeans and a plain black t-shirt. The owner of the second voice had a cap on his head and a piercing in one ear. The third boy was silent, wearing black jeans and a grey hoodie.

The second boy wore a shit-eating grin. ‘Who’s this?’

Eddie smiled, but Daniel could hear the deep intake of air as he breathed in. ‘This is Daniel. He’s my friend from my new school.’

The second boy looked Daniel up and down. ‘I’m glad to hear you’re making new… friends… Especially since you look… different from when you were at our school.’

The first boy stared at Eddie’s hair. ‘I guess you got even more into metal since we last saw each other. Your hair’s giving me Amy Lee vibes.’ 

‘Evanescence isn’t real metal!’ A stranger in the crowd shouted. 

The first boy coughed an ‘ahem’. ‘That is why you’re wearing that hair, right? Or are you trying to go for a Behemoth type of look?’

Eddie bit his lip. ‘Uh, it was great seeing you all, but Daniel and I have to get home.’

‘You’re going home together? Okay, don’t let us get in the way,’ the second boy said. ‘We should hang out again just the four of us.’

‘Y-yeah, that’ll be great. I’ll, uh, find you on Facebook.’

Eddie grabbed Daniel not by the hand, as Daniel expected for some reason, but by the arm. He dragged him outside. The otherwise cool air carried the warm winds that, for whatever reason, only appeared at night. Despite the warmth, Eddie shivered, turning his back to Daniel.

Daniel shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket. ‘Did you guys have a fight before you moved or something?’

‘No, I just… I moved because of them.’ Daniel’s eyebrows leapt. ‘I wanted to get out of that school and start again. I wanted to be more… open with others. I never told those three that I’m gay. So when I saw them again just now, I felt chills run down my body. It was like I was shoved back in the closet again and thrown into a lake and expected to swim. Once you’re as out as I am, you kind of forget how to be in the closet again and it just… it brings you back down to reality, like ‘Oh yeah, I almost forgot how much life sucks’.’ Eddie turned towards Daniel and looked down at the ground. ‘I must sound incomprehensible to a... straight... guy.’

Daniel shrugged. ‘I just can’t imagine you being in the closet. Didn’t you say that you could never hide your true self or something like that?’

’When did I say that?’

Daniel felt his cheeks match the heat of the wind. ‘Some time ago. I don’t know.’

Eddie looked up at him, his eyes shiny with water and his lip bitten hard enough to chip bits of his black lipstick off.

‘Well, I can’t exactly be the perfect super gay all the time. I have to adapt to my surroundings. The hard bit is when you have a feeling someone suspects but you don’t know for sure so you’re always on edge. You’re half afraid of them finding out and half sick of pretending because they probably know anyway so there’s no point.’

Daniel felt those words sink deep into his soul. He forced on a smile.

‘Why don’t you come out to your friends? You came out to the entire year level.’

‘It’s a different scene. The metal scene’s different.’

‘Everyone seemed pretty welcoming.’

‘But I… I’ve heard horror stories about homophobia in the metal community. A lot of fans are all about masculinity and stuff. That’s kind of what drew me to the genre at first. But anyway, even if my friends know, we can’t really confront it. It’ll be too awkward and… like, what if they’re all like, ‘well, the charade’s over. We don’t need to humour you anymore’? I’m better off not knowing what they think.’

Daniel took a step towards Eddie. ‘Have any metal fans given you shit for being gay?’

Eddie’s eyes grew. ‘Not me, but-’

‘Then what’s the use in worrying? You’re kind of giving yourself trauma before a bad event even happens. Why don’t you just worry about all that when it comes?’

Eddie chuckled and ran his hand through his hair, causing a sharp inhale from Daniel. ‘I didn’t think of it that way. Thanks.’

Daniel‘s smile grew as he cocked his head to the side for a moment as if to tell him to follow him. Eddie drank in that smile and even felt something stir in his heart. He almost swore, but then he’d have to explain why he did that.