#he still was as a teen but had internalized homophobia

[redcoralpot]

Eleganti - Poly!Stuilly x FTM!Reader

If you saw this before it was reposted, no you didn't.

Warnings: Implied internalized homophobia.

Summary: The heat has managed to affect all of you, and the only solution? A date at Stu's house with a dash of nail polish. You're sure they were both thrilled.

-

The summer heat truly had gotten to the three of you, with not even a cool breeze to give you relief. Rich boy Stu Macher’s parents were away for the weekend, again, which left his house the ideal place to take shelter in. If you had to be honest, you did not mind the temperature– kind of. The bottles of nail polish in your bag clinked together as you walked up the stairs; you knew Billy would be able to sit still long enough for it to dry. Stu, on the other hand, you weren’t so sure of. Not without heat and plenty of air flow.

Speaking of the devil, Billy glanced up from his book as you creaked the door open, leisurely spread on Stu’s bed. He raised an eyebrow at your appearance, before going back to reading, shifting a little to the side so you had more room to sit down. A smug grin slowly spread over your lips as you set your backpack down on the bed and unzipped it, making a show of the little, colorful bottles you displayed inside. You scooched beside it, and after setting down a towel in front of you, cracked open the first container.

Seeming to catch the smell, Billy spoke up, “Nail polish?”

“Yeah, want some?” He watched as you meticulously picked the colors you wanted, his mouth pursing.

“Not right now.”

You shrugged, applying a lavender base to your fingernails, “Suit yourself!”

Your hand flinched as the door was shoved open, smearing the liquid down your skin, only to be greeted by the eccentric figure of Stu. Upon seeing the predicament he caused, he bounced his shoulders and held up his hands beside his head, with an exaggerated frown. 

“Uh… whoops!”

He sauntered over, pressing his face into your shoulder. In response, you slapped the towel onto his face after wiping the spilled polish on the material. Stu grumbled something; it was ineligible. 

It eventually slid off on its own, with a little help from the teen shaking his head, “Suffocate me, why don’t you?”

Chuckling, you said, “You were the one who made me mess up, tough guy.”

“I totally meant for that to happen.” He slipped his arm over you, hanging like a sloth.

“If you meant it, then you have to be my test subject!”

Stu made a noise, contemplating. You wouldn’t force him to wear it, of course, but it was funny threatening something so harmless anyway. After just a few seconds, you felt the weight on your back release; Stu had moved in favor of shoving your bag into Billy to make space for himself. Then, the noodle of a guy flopped across from you, sitting criss-crossed with the most shit eating grin you have ever seen. Billy scowled at the rough treatment, but the expression was covered by the other’s knee.

He leaned forward, “Gimme orange.”

“Good choice!”

To prevent smearing, you blew on your covered nails as best you could, before bright orange coated the tiny brush in your hand. Stu seemed giddy as you took his hand, peering down, applying the cool liquid with precision. It was such a contrast to what his hand felt like; rough and as warm as a furnace. In the corner of your eye, you could see Billy’s eyes watching over Stu’s jeans, his book long forgotten. Finally, you finished, and allowed the fidgety boy to hold up his palms. His eyes were wide as he admired your handiwork, flexing his fingers with pride.

Stu tapped the top of Billy’s head with his elbow, “Hey, dude, want some of this?”

“Hm.”

“C’mon—”

“Black.”

You snickered, “I knew you’d crack.”

Billy rolled his eyes and leaned on Stu, holding out a hand. He shivered when you made a slight mistake, and gave you an unimpressed look as you fixed it with the edge of your towel. You could only complete one hand before he stopped you.

“Look who’s gonna be Cruella this Halloween!” Stu sneered, poking the other’s nose.

“Hey, hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You shut the bottle, carefully sealing them all back in your bag, “Fuddy duddy William could be making a new trend.”

“Never call me that again. Is this enough for you two?”

Stu cocked his head, “Lemme think… nope.”

You stretched your body out, setting your belongings on the ground. Opening Stu’s own closet, you ran your fingers over the variety of shirts and robes the guy had. In the very back, there was a band shirt, obviously too small for Stu; he grew out of it by the time he was sixteen. You held it out, studying it, before shrugging and taking it off the hanger. Your shirt flew over your head and smacked Stu in the face, but the air soothed the sweat that was gathering under your double sport bras, at least for a moment. Then, the newer shirt covered everything back up, and the dark material banned anyone from clocking the extra layers underneath.

“Why don’t we go out for ice cream?” you suggested.

Stu pumped his fist, even though your shirt was still clinging to his body. Billy shook his head, a little smile playing on his lips when Stu ran out the door, presumably to get his car keys. You, on the other hand, hesitated when you saw a shadow underneath the shirt, where your chest lay. The only other boy left in the room must have caught on, because you felt a passing hand on your shoulder and a whisper in your ear.

“You look fine, it’s normal.”

He met your gaze. However, someone was getting impatient, as a muffled shout rang through the closed window, “Coming? I’m totally getting pistachio this time, and you gotta be here to see me try it!”

-

[glorified-red]

I'm seeing all the hate The Sun & The Star is getting on this hellsite and its so obvious that people aren't reading this book for what it is.

It's literally a children's novel written for children. The book is supposed to be easily digestible and stupid and explicitly written because kids books are supposed to be completely laid out.

Rick has always written dorky things in his books but he has also prioritized writing about real world issues and struggles. He's written about trauma, abuse, PTSD, depression, anxiety, etc. For years.

So here he is writing about deep rooted insecurities and self-doubt and learning to accept all those dark parts of yourself as well as others, AND tackling internalized homophobia and queer struggles, and we're upset the book is too focused on the relationship?

The entire point of this book is to teach the audience how to navigate a rocky relationship with compassion and understanding. It's showing that relationships aren't perfect, you can be upset with your partner and your partner can be upset with you but the point is that you talk about it and you try to do better.

Is it such a bad thing for young teens to be learning this?

Is it such a bad thing for them to see that love is effort? And can and will be flawed and that's okay??

This is the first time we've seen this topic discussed by Rick and I've never seen a book tackle this topic because we always see the Hollywood depiction of love---yet that's unrealistic.

This is showing that love can be flawed but still be oh so beautiful. That you can be traumatized and still worthy of love.

And I am so proud of Rick and Mark for not only showing a healthy attempt at a relationship but also showing countless times that those lessons apply to any relationship. They put significant stress on platonic and familial relationships and how that love is also effort, compassion, and understanding.

Yes, it focused on Solangelo a lot.

Yes, it had soooo many flaws that even I cringed and got disappointed at times.

But the fact that we got a book that finally lets two characters talk about their feelings is incredible, and the fact that this new generation gets this book??

If I had a book like this when I was young, showing me how to navigate conflict and that relationships CAN be hard?? My god, the healing that lesson could have done.

Perspective is everything for this book. Hell, perspective was everything in HoO. It showed that how characters are perceived is very different from how they perceive themselves.

Leo was literally always shown as comedic relief and nothing more until we saw how incredibly lonely and sad that kid was from his point of view.

Percy was always said to be intimidating and powerful, but in his perspective, he's a kid who has no clue what he's doing.

So yea, in this book, it may seem like these characters have shifted, but once again, Rick is relying so heavily on perspective.

Nico was edgy and depressed for as long as we knew him, even in BoO when we first got his POV. But now that he's accepted, loved, and healing, why are we getting mad that he's a dork again---how he was before all the trauma? Why are we mad that Nico is growing and healing and becoming himself again because he feels safe enough to do so.

Ofc he's gonna feel different than how he was written a canon year ago.

And this is the first time we've had Wills perspective. He's always been seen as this sunshine happy character but we FINALLY get some acknowledgement that he's deeply terrified. He's shown as a leader and camp counselor but he's got anxiety written in his bones.

He felt like a burden this book because he's a healer. He's absolutely terrified to be a fighter and yet we got to see him become one in his own way. He was out of his element but he was trying.

Because he's so goddamn afraid of losing someone else.

Call Will an asshole all you want, but Nico had been to Tartarus and the Underworld more times than he could count.

Will is literally walking into a place he's never been to before and is the complete opposite of anything he's ever known---for Nico. The comments he makes about plants and lack of sunshine? It wasn't him being a dick, he was him being genuinely confused because hes only ever known earth logic.

If I saw flowers blooming in a pitch black room I'd be a little confused too. He says the Underworld is depressing because it's literally draining his energy.

You yell at Will for not being open-minded yet won't comment on the fact that Nico hardly made an attempt either. Nico could have been more understanding about the fact that Will, a guy who's exploring this place that's slowly killing him, might not like the place at first because he doesn't understand it.

Because Will wanted to understand.

And the second Will finally began to understand the beauty of the Underworld, he was nothing but supportive.

You get mad at Will for making mistakes yet refuse to acknowledge that he learned from them.

The Sun & The Star tackled a hard topic that doesn't get talked about often. It portrayed a queer relationship and it emphasized characters who learned and grew. It's different from other Rick books because that was the point. (And it wasn't just Rick writing it)

This book was about accepting change within yourself and "daring to be different."

And the fact that you can't even accept a book that does the same just shows that the lessons this book taught went straight over your head.

I've never been more disappointed in this fandom. We begged for this book. We begged for queer representation. Yet here we are criticizing every little thing about it as if we aren't lucky to be getting this book in the first place---a book about two side characters.

This book had soooo many flaws but it wasn't a bad book.

Isn't that the point of it all? To love something even though it's flawed? That flaws dont necessarily mean it's broken and bad forever?

It's okay to hate a book.

That doesn't mean it's a bad book.

It just wasn't for you.

There are dozens of other books in this fandom to love and cherish, but don't hate this book just because it's different from what we're used to.

[bimbobaggins69]

wanna try something?

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: you and Eddie have been dating for a few months on top of a year long fwb situation, and an even longer friendship. You’ve tried almost everything together, that is until you stumble upon the x rated section in family video and are instantly drawn to a tape of something you never thought you’d be into.

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, queer!eddie, mentions of steddie, small mention of internalized homophobia, no use of y/n, use of pet names: baby, princess, sweet girl etc.), oral (m receiving), anal play (m receiving).

notes: I have been wanting to write a fic about Eddie’s bussy forever so… when I got the urge I had to do it. Also, the pictures have almost nothing to do with this fic, aside from the vhs’s, believe it or not finding an aesthetic for eating ass is very difficult. Also also, thank you to my love @take-everything-you-can for beta reading <333

wc: 3.2k

The sound of lips smacking is all that can be heard in the empty air of Eddie’s trailer, the shitty horror movie playing in the background quickly forgotten and the booming sound coming from the speakers are quickly becoming white noise as you moan and pant into each other's mouths.

This was usually how it went; you’d both agree to have a “movie night” just to totally forget about said movie and go straight to attacking each other's lips while hands and mouths explore different body parts.

You’d both been together for 3 months now after a year of being friends with benefits and before that just childhood best friends.

It felt nice to have sex with someone you knew would never judge you or make you do things you didn’t want to, Eddie was so selfless not only in the bedroom but all the time, it’s one of the many things you adored about him.

The sex was mind blowing between you two, like you were made for each other. The first night you lost your virginity to Eddie he had looked over at you while trying to catch his breath to say “why haven’t we always been doing this?”

The truth is, you had more than friendly feelings for Eddie for years, but for most of his teens he was grappling with his sexuality, you were the only one he opened up to about it. He wasn’t sure if he was straight at all or even liked girls. He kept this a secret but the only crush Eddie had seemed to have on any girl was you, and since he felt like he couldn’t have you, he didn’t want any other. So, he decided to explore that other side of him.

But once you started to show interest in him. The longing stares, the way your eyes would flicker to his lips and the way you’d say his name, was all he needed to know you felt the same way.

So after a long night filled with sexual tension, Eddie made his move and kissed you, he took your virginity that night and it was the most mind blowing sex he’d ever had. He decided at that moment that sex is better with someone you love.

You’d both played stubborn for a year, never wanting to fully let your feelings be known, so you decided a friends with benefits situation would be best.

That was until Eddie couldn’t hold back his feelings any longer, he needed you to know he was madly in love with you and didn’t want anyone else, ever.

So now after a year of the dirtiest, raunchiest, roughest sex, there was pretty much nothing you both hadn’t done together, you were open minded to anything Eddie wanted to try with you: choking, hair pulling, some face smacking and him cuffing you to his bed, are just a few.

There really wasn’t anything Eddie could come to you with that you’d shoot down, giving him another reason to be head over heels about you.

But, you still felt like there were things you could improve on or maybe new things to be learned, so after one of your many solo trips to family video, you decided to check out the X rated section.

You looked both ways before quickly swinging the red velvet curtain open and quickly shutting it behind you, as if you were on some top secret mission.

Your fingertips glided along the numerous dirty videos, looking for anything that caught your eye.

You stopped abruptly, your fingertip halting on a tape that made your eyes widen and your thighs clench.

The title of the video made you scoff, ‘along comes likki’ with a very dirty picture of a man bent over and a girl's face shoved in his ass.

You and Eddie had never done ass stuff before and the thought of having him under your complete control, if even for a minute was making your panties dampen.

You wanted to give Eddie the same blissed out face the man on the cover had.

So you discreetly put your goonies tape over it and shoved them both under your arm.

You walk up to the register and it’s just your luck that Robin had taken her break and Steve was the one that would be ringing you up. You had known all about his and Eddie’s relationship, if you could even call it that. They had fucked and then after Steve had pushed Eddie away and told him that it would never happen again and that he wasn’t gay, even though Eddie had opened up to him and explained that he knew he liked men and women, told Steve it was called bisexuality and Steve seemed very interested in the prospect only to after push Eddie away and basically call him gay, totally negating everything they had opened up to each other about. It had definitely hurt him and you were there to pick up the pieces.

But you couldn’t be mad at Steve, you knew he was in a battle with his inner self, that he would hopefully one day come to terms with.

“You ready to check out?” The honey eyed boy says from behind the counter, totally knocking you out of your inner thoughts. Those same thoughts that made you forget what tape you had underneath your arm.

“Mhmm” is all you say as you grab the two tapes and slowly place them on the counter.

Your face grows hot with realization and now you wish the ground would swallow you up whole.

“You find everything good?” Steve says, trying to make conversation as he rings up the goonies, he sets it aside and before he goes to pick up the next video, he freezes and looks back up at you.

“Yeah, I did.” The words come out fast and jumbled as your eyes plead with him to just hurry up.

But of course to your dismay, Steve’s lips curl into a knowing smirk. He grabs the video and rings it up, “yeah, looks like it.” He says while holding the video up and shaking it as his eyebrows shoot up under his perfectly coiffed hair.

Nothing would or could ever embarrass you as much as this interaction.

Steve licks his lips and leans against the counter, “don’t worry honey, your secret is safe with me.” He says with a wink. You wanted to tell him “so is yours.” But you could never do that.

Especially not with the way you were nervously chewing at your lip.

Finally after paying, Steve handed you your bag but not before letting his fingers linger over yours for far too long.

“You have a great day, beautiful.” He says with the most lust filled eyes.

You weren’t sure if you were aroused or annoyed, maybe both? But he knew you and Eddie were together, so it was pretty uncool of him to flirt with you.

Then again, it’s Steve, doesn’t he flirt with everyone? It’s like his second language.

Once you make it into your bedroom, you lock your door and pop the video into your vhs player, grab the remote on your night stand and sit on the end of your bed, no one is home but you turn the volume down almost all the way, just in case.

The video starts out with some shitty plot and bad acting, so you fast forward until you find what you're looking for. Finally, you click the play button when you see a man sitting on the couch and a woman on her knees between his spread legs, he has his cock out and he’s hitting it against the woman’s tongue before she takes it in her mouth, she proceeds to choke, lick and suck on it. Eddie had always seemed to enjoy your blowjobs, but Jesus they were nothing like this.

She was using her hand to twist and suck, and spit was constantly falling from her mouth from deepthroating, it was too hot for you not to slip your fingers into your shorts and make yourself cum.

The woman lowered herself while the man spread his legs even wider, she sucked on his balls before licking lower and finally lapping up at his puckered hole, it immediately sent you over the edge.

The whole thing was so dirty and hot, you knew you had to try it on Eddie.

So that leads you to your forgotten movie, playing in the background while you straddle your boyfriend's lap. His hands grip at your waist and you can’t help but to rub your clothed core over the stiffness of his hard on, under the material of his rough jeans.

“Fuck, baby.” Eddie breathes out into the expanse of your neck as he sucks and kisses the tender area, after a particularly hard roll of your hips.

“I want you to strip for me, and then I wanna taste you.” He whispers into the shell of your ear, before taking your earlobe into his mouth and sucking.

“Actually Ed’s, wanna try something?” You boldly say as you bat your lashes down at the metalhead.

“Oh yeah? Well lay it on me princess.” He replies, sinking further into the cushions as he playfully taps his chest.

“Um, well…” you trail off, all the confidence seemingly evaporating from your body.

“C’mon sweet girl, you know you can tell me anything.” He softly says as he runs his ringed fingers over your cheek bone.

You decide it would be easier to show him what you want, so you mirror the position from the porno, getting on your knees and in between his spread legs.

“Mmm, you wanna suck my cock, is that it?” He smirks, while looking down at your glossy, lust filled eyes.

You don’t answer, instead you bring your shaky hands to undo his handcuff belt, but he instantly notices and takes your hands in his, he brings his chin down to his chest, trying to catch your eye.

“Baby, talk to me.” He says with concern as he pulls you from your knees to sit in his lap, his arms wrap around your waist as he kisses the top of your head.

“I um,” you start, not knowing how to put what you want into words but deciding to be truthful about it.

“Well okay, here’s the truth..” you take a deep breath before continuing “I stopped by family video the other day, and I was curious so I went to the adult section and I found a tape, I decided to rent it and well… it was really hot and I wanna try it on you.” You say while hiding your face in his chest.

His eyebrows shoot up under his bangs in intrigue.

“Well now you gotta tell me, baby.” He says before gently grabbing your chin with his fingers and finally looking into your eyes.

You swallow hard before you finally come out with it, “I wanna eat your ass.” You hate the way it sounds coming out of your mouth, which is exactly why you took so long to finally say it.

Eddie’s eyes widen, he’s in shock that you would even suggest it, he’s no stranger to it, but it just doesn’t seem like something chicks would be into.

All of his sexual encounters before you had been with men, but he’s always been a top, in other words he’s eaten plenty of ass but never had it given in return. Never had his ass played with at all.

But he would let you do whatever you wanted to him, without a doubt and hearing that something like that turns you on is making his cock painfully hard in his tight jeans.

“Fuck, you wanna give me a rim job, princess?” He breathily says, as if all the wind had been knocked out of him.

“Mmhm.” You say through your bitten lip.

“Get back on your knees for me, angel.” He says while patting the exposed flesh of your thigh.

You do as you’re told, shifting around to find a comfortable enough position.

“Good girl.” Eddie smiles down at you with his lust blown eyes, his dimples on full display as his smile causes light creases in his skin.

Eddie helps you remove his belt and jeans, pulling his jeans and checkered boxers down in one swoop and playfully kicking them off his feet, making you giggle before grabbing and pulling them off the rest of the way.

You move in closer, your hands rub up and down Eddie’s thighs as your eyes rake over his body, he looks so good, his bangs slightly sticking to his forehead from the growing heat in the trailer.

He’s looking down at you with so much love and lust, it makes your head spin.

You try your best to remember everything the woman was doing on the tape.

So you wrap your hand around Eddie’s hard, throbbing cock and stick your tongue out, giving it a few slaps against the pink wet muscle.

“Oh, fuck.” Whimpers Eddie before he’s tearing his shirt off over his head, and tossing it somewhere behind you.

You take his tip in your mouth and begin sucking, taking him in deeper until he reaches the back of your throat, you close your eyes and breath through your nose willing yourself not to choke on it. You bob your head fucking your own mouth on his cock, allowing for that build up of spit to pool in your mouth.

You pull off of him with a pop before spitting on his tip, you curl your fingers back around him and begin spreading your saliva around the reddened head, all the way down to where the shaft meets his balls, the quick movements create a slick sound that squelches out into the muggy room.

“Jesus Christ baby, you weren’t fucking around were you?” He chuckles as he lightly squirms in his seat, it feels too fucking good and he’s trying his hardest not already blow his load.

You giggle and smile up at him from your place on your knees, that picture alone of you with your cute fucking giggle and beautiful smile along with your spit soaked lips and chin were so close to doing him in.

You wink at him before you move down to his balls and begin light licks and sucks at the tender skin.

“Oh my god, fuck yes.” He’s a babbling, whimpering mess and you have never felt so fucking powerful.

Finally after you worship his balls with a few more gentle sucks, you take his thighs and spread them out more, almost lifting them up into the air, making Eddie fall back further into the couch as his eyes widen at your manhandling.

He scoots down, his ass almost halfway off the couch as he brings his knees in towards his stomach, giving you the perfect view of his tight pink hole.

You continue to stroke him, his cock still slippery from all of your spit.

“You ready?” You quietly ask, Eddie nods his head as he bites down on his lip.

You wanted to tease him like he does you and give him the “use your words” bullshit, but you’re just as eager as he is, so you take that as his final answer.

Your tongue lightly brushes against his hole, making him slightly jump in surprise. You put more pressure on your tongue, getting more into it as you go. You imagine this is what eating a girl's pussy would be like, which is something you’d always wanted to try.

“Holy fuck!” Eddie gasps from above you, “oh fuck, th-that feels so good, baby.” He’s been reduced to a complete puddle, his cock is leaking so much precum, you wanted to just lick it all up. You get an idea and bring your tongue to his tip, licking his mess but you don’t swallow, instead you let it sit in your mouth before bringing the precum to his asshole, using it as lubrication to gently slip your tongue into his tight muscle.

Eddie looks down at you in utter shock, he’s never been so turned on and ready to burst in his life.

“Baby, baby, holy- you gotta stop or I’m gonna cum.” He whines, as his head falls back at the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

You slip your tongue out, a mischievous glint in your eyes has Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Can I finger you while I suck your cock, Ed?” You implore with a pout of your vibrant colored lips.

“Oh my god.” Eddie rubs at his face in astonishment, were you trying to kill him?

“Is that a yes?” You timidly ask, not sure if his reaction was good or bad.

Eddie lifts his head up again, meeting your eyes with a smile.

“You’re a little fucking minx, you know that?” He sighs before finally answering your question—

“Yes, you can do whatever you want to me, sweet girl.” He slams his head back into the cushions, bracing himself for the intrusion.

You spit on your finger tips and rub it into his hole, before doing it again, making sure to get it nice and wet. You had a friend who told you she tried to do anal dry, and it hurt like hell. So you know you have to get it nice and prepped with your spit before you finally proceed.

You rub more of your spit around before taking your middle finger and ever so slowly entering Eddie’s asshole.

His hands instantly grab for the fabric of the cushions, hanging on for dear life because the way you were making him feel, was beyond his comprehension.

He thought for sure if he’d let go, he’d float away.

You slip your finger in to the knuckle, while Eddie continues his incoherent babbling.

You begin slowly moving in and out while simultaneously taking Eddie’s cock in your mouth, his whole body stiffens as he lets out a guttural groan.

You let him hit the back of your throat over and over while speeding up your finger. The noises from his wet asshole to the sounds of you sucking him off and his beautiful, pleasure filled moans has your clit throbbing and begging for friction.

“Mmm, baby, Im- holy fuck I’m gonna cum, gonna cum in your fucking mouth!” He shouts as his eyes roll back in his head.

He looks down at you one last time, before he begins shooting rope after rope of warm cum into your mouth. You make a show of swallowing and licking the rest of his cock clean, you slowly remove your finger from his hole and bring it up to your lips, sucking it, just like he does when he fingers you.

Eddie’s sat up on the palms of his hands as he watches the display, he instantly growls in satisfaction and pulls you by the loops of your jeans shorts onto his lap, he grabs your face and smashes his lips to yours, a sloppy spit filled kiss.

Eddie moans at the taste of himself on you.

He was in heaven and you were a fucking angel.

[buddierecs]

angst buddie fics

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

a leaf falls on loneliness (highly recommend this fic!!) by: iimpossible_things "buck doesn’t think that if he were to say, “i’m in a bad place”, that anyone would turn him away. really, he doesn’t. the 118 has too many good, kind people for that. but every time he wants to open his mouth, to say something, to reach out to eddie or bobby or hen or chim, he hears eddie yelling, “you’re exhausting.” —you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting— so each day he does his job and he laughs and he jokes and he pretends he’s the care-free goofball he’s always been. And each day he packs away his bruises and his worries, takes them home to his empty loft with its quiet rooms, and licks his wounds in silence." word count: 11k important tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, happy ending, original male character catharsis by: rogerzsteven "it only takes one minor inconvenience for buck to have his long overdue breakdown" word count: 5.3k important tags: emotional hurt/comfort, mental/emotional breakdown, bobby nash as evan buckley parent, multiple pov still by: brewsrosemilk "for the first time, buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. dirt to dig at. a door to break through. something. there’s nothing. “your guess was correct, diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “you’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. don’t shift. when you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it." word count: 9.3k important tags: near death experience, love confessions, happy ending, first kiss august by: daisies_and_briar "buck, eddie, natalia, and marisol go on a beach vacation in august of 2023. It gets angsty and gay." word count: 40k important tags: vacation, eddie/mariol, buck/natalia, mariol/natalia, coming out, feelings confession, sexuality, everyone is queer listen to you breathing (is where i wanna be) by: yavilee "the one where buck is presumed dead after a building collapse and eddie has to live through the reminder that tomorrow isn't promised to anyone" word count: 41k important tags: presumed dead, major character injury, mutual pining, grief, panic attacks, friends to lovers all that we intend is scrawled in sand (and slips right through our hands) by: withmeornotatall "buck and eddie get trapped together, time is running out, and eddie doesn't want to die alone" word count: 6.9k important tags: near death experiences, major character injury, whump, love confessions, getting together, first kiss

actually, truly by: milenadaniels "helena (and ramon) tries to find a way back into eddie's life and doesn't know what to make of finding buck around every corner she turns." word count: 14k important tags: multiple pov, season 4/shooting, homophobia, internalized homophobia, recovering from injury, pre-relationship, getting together, team as family, supportive!isabel diaz, coming out i know you're hurting (but so am i) by: justhockey "eddie understands better than maybe anyone else ever could, how it feels to have everything unravel in the palm of your hands. he knows frustration - he knows fury. he’s painfully familiar with that burning rage that crackles in the tips of your fingers, that makes your skin hot and chest tight, and makes you want to punch anyone that dares to even look at you. but that doesn’t give chim the right to lay a damn hand on buck" word count: 3.7k important tags: hurt/comfort, ptsd, feelings realisation, protective!eddie diaz, communication, 5x04 coda i want to reach out by: orphan_account "buck was a very emotional and physically clingy person, he knew this, once he had someone, he held on tight, scared they'd one day leave them. a drunk ana points out that maybe everyone is tired of it, and buck realises: maybe they are." word count: 5.7k important tags: insecure!evan buckley, ana flores bashing, hurt/comfort, touch starved, abandonment issues, love confessions

the aftermath of liberation and love confessions by: elvensorceress "in which eddie comes out, sexuality is complicated but coffee is not, buck makes an excessive salad and is also roasted, everyone has a love confession, and December is the most dramatic time of year." word count: 17k important tags: pining!eddie diaz, idiots to lovers, coming out, love confessions, demisexual!eddie diaz, post 5.09 and this is his life by: shyaudacity "in late june of nineteen ninety-one, mere hours after losing her son to cancer, margaret buckley takes a baby out of the hospital nursery and decides to bring him home" word count: 26k important tags: established relationship, kidnapping, emotional hurt, panic attacks, flashblacks, comforting!eddie diaz mirror, lie to me, tell me you can see by: anonymous "buck struggles with food and his body. it's not new." word count: 20k important tags: TW: eating disorder, established relationship, hurt/comfort, protective!maddie buckley, marriage proposal, sibling love, caring!eddie diaz without you, i'll never be home by: the_forgotten_nobody "after the tsunami, eddie invites buck to stay with him and christopher." word count: 45k important tags: hurt/comfort, post-tsunami/season 3, anxiety, separation anxiety, pining, sharing a bed

[chronically-ghosted]

bloody kisses — part three: cinnamon girl boy

pairing: shane morrissey/tim rockford rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 10K content: vaguely takes place in the 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, self-doubt, shame, worries about aging, heavy petting, oral (male receiving), first time giving head, gag reflex training, assplay, doggy style, protected p in a, discussions of dom/sub and top/bottom, bad family dynamics, hints of poverty, discussions around divorce, tim's internal battles, dominant!tim, bratty!shane, nasty dirty talk (anyone who identifies my favorite line gets a gold star), lmk if anything has been missed! dividers: @saradika-graphics a/n: i wanna cry @perotovar let me play with their beautiful blorbos and i had so much fun. i've never written m/m before so they took a HUGE risk on me - thank you so much for trusting me to treat them well!

series summary: shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

series masterlist

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(from @chronically-ghosted: if you liked my humble take on this, you can find my masterlist here!) ♥♥

Russet streaks of late afternoon light filter in through the vinyl slats over the grungy carpet when Shane opens the apartment door. He shuts it with a sigh, locking it behind his back, before tipping his head against the frame, closing his eyes, and taking a long inhale. On the exhale verging on a sigh, he tosses his keys onto the ripped and faded black couch to his right before trudging into the linoleum kitchen. 

There’s a note on the counter:

Gone to visit Barry’s kids in New Jersey. Be back on the 10th. Money for food is on the fridge.

Shane’s dark eyes flit to the M magnet that Samantha left here the last time she visited from Maine. Even their father came that time. 

He snorts resentfully when he sees it: twenty bucks to last him two weeks – thanks Mom. 

Chances that she left him anything in the freezer are lower than the chance he’ll be able to stretch this twenty till Friday. 

Shane slips off his leather duster and tosses it over one of the precarious bar stools. He snatches up the half empty packet of cigarettes from the scuffed living room table, takes one out, and lights it. He flops into the cracked leather, stuffing fluttering out of the cushions on impact, one of the metal springs stabbing him in his flat ass. Head against the ridge of the couch, Shane lazily puffs out smoke rings, his lips pursed, up to the ceiling. 

There’s about a dozen – maybe even twice as many – feelings in his chest right now, all bubbling and curling and spitting and scratching at his insides. Some of them are good – most of them are great, actually (god he can’t remember when he last felt this fucking ecstatic about anything) but some of them . . . some of them scare him so much he can barely breathe. 

Call, Tim had said, in his soft, low voice, the smell of sweet syrup still in the air, the plates with pancake crumbs sitting in the sink behind him. Call, if you need anything. 

The detective’s card sits in the left pocket of his duster. 

Shane shakes his head, a grim smile on his face. Can I call if I’m just fucking lonely without you?

He sips at the cigarette a bit, following the hazy trail of smoke as it wafts around the room. His eyes fall on the cracks of his life, this apartment he shares with his mother and her boyfriend. Stacks of newspapers by the bookcase that’s missing a few shelves. A cereal bowl he left by the window two days ago when a few friends invited him out to go check out Maxxx’s new stereo system. Takeout boxes and beer cans. Unfolded laundry in a plastic bin, the edges cracked and torn off. A few pictures when he was a wiry kid, then a wiry teen. He has a few good memories with Samantha, when he was fourteen and she was seven. That was the only time in his life when anything ever made any sense.

When she’d ask if he’d play her a s–

Shane’s eyes narrow at his bedroom door. Without looking, he snuffs the cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and stands up. Barry knows what would happen if he went into Shane’s room without Shane’s express permission – mother’s boyfriend or not – but Shane locks up every time. He keys open his bedroom door and finds everything as he left it. But that’s not what has him moving down onto his hands and knees, laying flat on his stomach to get a long arm under his bed. With a bit of searching, Shane’s face breaks open wide in surprise as he fingers curl around the long wooden neck. Slowly, Shane crawls back and with him comes his old acoustic guitar. 

By the line of dust on it, it really had been several years since he played this thing, but turning it over, the rightness of it settles into his hands, his hips, his bones. This is where it was always meant to be. 

Seems like I’m finding all kinds of rightness out of nowhere. 

He strums once. The strings are horrifically out of tune, but the thoughts swirling around in his brain make him smile. Fist under his chin, he props his head up on the guitar’s body, contemplating. 

He can still smell the sugar from breakfast and Tim’s aftershave from after breakfast. His heart squeezes without his control . . . and his ass twinges. Heat roars up his entire chest and he has to curl in on himself, rolling onto his back, to keep from exploding, a big stupid grin all over his face. The last twelve hours flit across his memory, each moment better than the next. 

Call, if you need anything, Tim had said.

I need you to tell me what to do now. Am I the same person? Do I want to be? If I left all of this and everyone behind, who would I be tomorrow? Would you keep me around then?

Do you even really like me now? 

He takes his hands down from his eyes, sighing and staring up at his popcorn ceiling, not unlike Tim’s. 

Beneath his right hand, his metal bracelets clatter with the wood of the guitar. 

Samantha. 

Samantha likes him, or at least used to. She loved some version of him. Little sisters are always supposed to love you, but maybe he could find that version again. If it’s still there.

Shane sits up and begins to clean his room.

Night comes and the light from the Morrissey apartment stays on a young man gathering trash and throwing it away. 

Tim hasn’t been this on edge since the four or five times he’s tried to quit smoking. He sits in his car, rain pouring down, heating set on low for an early November evening, and he thinks about all the ways this can go wrong. He stares up at the second floor of the tenement apartment, his fingers flexing around the steering wheel. 

Like file folders, he sorts his worries from least to most earth-shattering.

Shane is vulnerable right now. There is no one else in his life he can turn to with questions, and he had been left to fend for himself on and off since he was fifteen (Tim has pulled up his file only half a dozen times for follow up work on the shooting and Shane’s rap sheet often catches his eye). Of course, he wants nothing more than to be the person who Shane comes to with questions or concerns, or fuck, even just an ear to listen to. But, at his age, Tim is all too aware of what a situation like that could do to him. 

He’s already in too deep and he fucking knows it. 

Earth-shattering worry number two: he is a cop and he has booked this kid more times than he can count. Just for petty stuff and he was never the one to press charges – always the DA looking for an easy numbers game to boost his image before the elections. Tim fucking agonized over that and not just in Shane’s case – these kids weren’t in need of help, the attorney’s office said, they were problems that needed to be put down. So how fast would the DA’s head spin around and explode if he showed up to the policeman’s ball with the “Satanic Temple” on his arm, nevermind just another man? While that would be a sight Tim would cherish until he died, he can’t ask anyone – especially someone as new to all of this as Shane – to handle something like that. 

Which brings him to his final worry, the big concern that has him nearly start up his car and drive off, to call Shane on a payphone and apologize for not being able to ever see him again. Tim’s old. He’s fucking old and Shane shouldn’t have to carry decades worth of baggage when the kid’s got a fucking trunk of it himself. He’s old and a has-been and Shane has the rest of his life ahead of him. 

Of course, this is all assuming Shane would ever want something more with him and this isn’t just sex for him. But maybe that’s all it should be. Both of them dirty little secrets to each other that can fuel Tim’s fantasies until his cock finally stops working (which is probably pretty fucking imminent), and something that Shane can laugh about with his partner some day. 

With a sigh, Tim watches a figure move around behind dirty windows on the second floor. 

The only way Tim would walk away now is if Shane told him to take a fucking hike. And that’s a really big problem.

He turns off the car, grabs his tan raincoat, and heads towards the apartment building.

When Shane opens the door, Tim wonders if he had a stroke and is seeing things that aren’t really there. Shane still has all his earrings, his rings with his unusually jet-black hair, but the duster is gone. Shane has answered the door in a black sleeveless shirt, with faded but roughly-intact jeans, and bare feet. He looks –

“Laundry day.” Tim’s eyes snap up and Shane frowns petulantly. “‘S laundry day . . . n’ this is all I had.” His fingers around the doorframe tighten. “You gonna come in or just stand there and make me look like a fuckin’ rat?” 

Tim is very much aware of how much he looks like a cop even in plain clothes, and the tie with slacks isn’t helping. But he can understand why it might make things difficult for Shane to be seen with him.

But, fuck, if he only knew . . .

“Sorry.” 

He steps across the threshold and Shane shuts the door behind him, sticking very close to the wood to give as much space between the two of them as possible. The rain patters in the silence as Tim tries not to stare too much, but that pattern-picking part of his brain can’t help but lurch into overdrive. 

The apartment is empty. That’s the first thing he clocks. The second are several black garbage bags by the front door and the distinct smell of Pinesol in the air, sitting only faintly above the stench of cigarettes. Tim’s eyes fall to the cracked patio door, then the ashtray that has three very freshly stamped-out cigarettes in the bowl. Either two of Shane’s friends just left or –

“You want, um, something to drink?”

Shane moves swiftly from behind him to the kitchen and Tim’s gaze latches to his back. His ears are by his shoulders and Tim gets a brief flash of the borderline fear in those dark eyes before he disappears behind the wall.

“No, uh –,” Tim clears his throat and takes off his coat, then his holster, laying both flat on the counter that separates the living room from the kitchen. “I’m good. Mind if I smoke though?”

Shane returns, a beer can in his hand and slides into the plastic chair on the left side of the chipped table beneath a sickly, hanging fluorescent light. He cracks it and takes two long pulls before putting it on the table with a thud. He picks up his own packet and Tim thinks he might see a tremble in his hand.

He’s not sure if he feels vindicated, even elated, that Shane might be as nervous as he is, or just terribly awkward. 

“Make yourself at home.” Shane indicates the chair across from him with a jerk of his head before he lights up. The chair squeaks on the linoleum as Tim pulls it back and gingerly sits down. He stabilizes his elbows on the table to keep his hands steady as he takes out a cigarette from his own packet and lights it against his mouth. 

The heady rush of smoke combined with the fresh scent of rain soothes something and he forcibly tugs at his own courage.

“So, um, how’ve you been?” Fantastic start, Rockford.

Shane lifts those thin shoulders, eyes skirting the edge of the table. “Good. Went, uh, to see X the other day. He’s getting better. Says the hospital should let him out soon.” 

“Good. That’s good.” 

The room is so quiet, he can hear the paper burn and curl from the smoldering end of the cigarette between his fingers.

“And you? You've been – um?”

“Yeah, I’ve been good. Xavier – sorry – X’s testimony was really useful for identifying the shooter and establishing a timeline. Should be a pretty open and shut case.” 

At that, a wry smirk curls across Shane’s face. He looks at Tim with something that might be described as a teasing grin as he knocks loose a line of ash. “Probably the last and only time X is gonna be helpful to the police.” 

Tim responds with his own grin. “Wouldn’t expect anything different. Where’s the fun in easy cases?” 

They both chuckle, eyes on anywhere but each other. And yet the tension has cracked, just a bit. Enough to let Tim lean back in his chair and breathe out a long, relaxed plume of smoke. 

“But, uh, you called because you wanted to ask me something?” 

Shane’s ink-wet eyes glance up at him and Tim feels the knot beneath his chest bone throb. 

“Oh – yeah, right. Um, I was thinking about something you said over breakfast the other day . . .” Tim’s heart swells; he thinks about that morning all the fucking time too. Soft golden light and harsh black hair, spread across his chest. “And I was wondering if you still talk to your old friend in the NYU music department.”

That is not the question Tim had been expecting.

“John? Who works at the guitar shop on 7th?” 

“I’m not thinking of going to school,” Shane adds quickly, the tips of his ears going red and Tim has to make an effort to keep his eyes on Shane’s face. “I still think school is a fuckin’ racket made for rich people to make themselves richer and maintain authority over –,”

“Yes, I still talk to John from time to time. Why?” 

At this, Shane shifts in his seat, eyes low, shoulders rigid with tension. He taps his thumb on his knee uncomfortably. 

“Iwanajob . . .”

“Sorry?”

Shane scrunches his nose (the band around Tim’s chest tightens – god, he’s so fucking cute) and huffs.

“I want . . . a job. At the guitar shop . . . and I was hoping . . . you could introduce me to your friend. John, or whatever.” He adds sullenly as if Tim hadn’t just said his name twice. 

The buzzing awareness that is always present at the back of Tim’s mind suddenly clicks on. Like a camera taking film, he looks around the room. The trash bags. The tidy apartment. Fucking laundry day.

“Oh,” he says flatly. “Why, uh – why that place?”

Shane stiffens imperceptibly again. He’s got that “caught-in-a-trap” look about him – the kind his suspects get when they’re about to confess something, willingly or otherwise. Shane’s wide eyes glance over Tim’s shoulder as if he had pointed a finger. Tim turns and is rail-roaded again for the second time since coming here.

“Is that yours?” Tim stands, leaving the cigarette in the ash tray, and crosses the room, careful not to touch the shining guitar on its holder but getting as close as possible to examine it. It is a beautiful guitar, the body waxed and the silver of the tuning pegs bright in the low light. It takes Shane a second to answer.

“Yeah.” The admission is breathy, a release from a too-long-held inhale. Tim thinks his voice wobbles a bit but he dare not turn around to see what’s on Shane’s face. “I used to play a lot. I loved music as a kid, thought I was pretty good. Samantha loved it when I wrote songs for her. When we got older, she’d sing along with me.”

Tim clocked a white note stuck on the counter when he walked in, but he was too far away to read it. The way Shane said her name, Tim gathers that she’s not an ex, but someone closer. However, his file never mentioned any Samantha, so she must not live nearby or be someone he sees frequently. 

When we got older . . .

Tim straightens up and looks at Shane. “Is Samantha your sister?” 

Shane stares at him wide-eyed for a minute before shaking his head, smiling faintly. 

“I hate it when you fucking do that.”

Tim’s stomach knots. “Do what?”

“Figure me out as soon as you look at me. Yeah, dude, Samantha is my sister. Half-sister anyway. Mom and Dad tried to do the whole divorced parents who get along thing for a while, but it didn’t last. Now I don’t see her unless she can get the car for the weekend. But she says she won’t come if she’s not invited and I . . . it’s been a while since I’ve seen her.” 

Tim nods, the sick knot in his stomach melting into butterflies.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. Just . . . curious, I guess.”

Shane watches him silently as he rejoins the table. The chair squeaks again. Tim lights another cigarette when he knows he shouldn’t but Shane’s smile has him trembling. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” 

Tim swallows. “Can’t help myself do what?”

“Be curious,” Shane says softly, something unreadable and expansive in his gaze. For a second, he looks a decade older and a millennia wiser. He lifts his voice, louder, deeper when he continues. “Guess that’s part of being a cop.”

“You know, technically, I’m a detective, right? Not on patrol, only handling specialized cases.” 

Shane sucks the last bit of his cigarette, his eyes bright with mischief. “A-Cab, Rockford. I don’t make exceptions.” 

Tim wants to kiss that smirk right off him. He squeezes his own knee briefly before leaning into Shane’s space, the corner of the table separating them, to tap out his ash. He relishes in the way Shane’s eyes skitter up his forearm to his shoulder. He’s not the first to be intimidated by Tim’s size, but he is the first that Tim would gladly overwhelm with it. 

“Seems like you did the other night,” he replies, his voice throaty and scratched. It’s not entirely intentional – Tim’s mouth has gone shockingly dry. 

 This time, Shane’s entire face flushes pink and Tim grins. Old dog still got some tricks, don’t he?

“I’m just fucking with you, kid.” He chuckles. “Relax. Your secret is safe with me.”

He hears how that last part sounds and bites his tongue in regret. Of all the things Tim wants Shane to know, assuming he thought their time together was a mistake is definitely not one of them. He does not want Shane to think he is something that Tim wants to keep a secret. 

But by Shane’s unabashed intake of Tim’s forearms, chest, and curls on his hairline, he probably didn’t need to worry too much. 

It’s been years since he was so shamelessly checked out and it makes his heart pound. He wouldn’t dare return the ogling but, fuck he wants to. Last time, it had been all about Shane and making Shane feel good, which he would do without question again and again and again. But he is desperate for an exploration of Shane’s body as much as he knows it needs to be an exploration for the both of them.  

Or it would be, if he could get a goddamn grip. Last time - probably only fucking time, you sleeze. 

“I k-know–,” Shane’s voice cracks and the blush flares again, only briefly this time. He clears his throat and sits up a bit in the chair. “I know that. I know. It’s just . . .” Shane sucks on his cigarette nervously, his cheeks hollowing, like he’s warming up to something. Something sour rolls down the back of Tim’s throat, his stomach clenched, but years of training keeps his face as smooth as stone. Those dark brown eyes, as gentle and fluid as mercury, stare up at him and Tim knows he’s such a fucking goner.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Tim nods. Rolling his bottom lip into his mouth, Shane leans forward, drumming out another line of ash into the glass tray. He straightens against the back of the chair as he tugs one knee to his chest, expression wary, and wraps a skinny arm around his shin. 

At the last second, Shane drops his gaze and instead decides to interrogate a dirty spot on the table.

“When I first met you,” he began slowly, “you wore a wedding ring. But now . . .” 

His eyes flicker to Tim’s left hand, third finger, absent of any jewelry, sitting on his thigh. 

Tim thinks of the first time he saw that irate seventeen year old punk in the station. He had a ripe black eye and an annoyingly smug smirk on when the officer on duty chucked him roughly into a holding cell. 

“That’s perceptive of you.” He flexed his hand into a fist, once, then twice, then met Shane’s stare ahead on. Tim has to hastily swallow a deep lungful of smoke to smother the sudden uptick of his heartbeat. “You’re right,” he says, stiff, on a throaty inhale. “I was married until about five years ago.” 

A large knot visibly slips down Shane’s throat, his cigarette tilting dangerously between his fingers, ash hovering over the carpet. 

“Hm, and to a . . .”

The way his eyes go wide, Tim wants to bury a kiss into that agitated pulse on Shane’s throat, but instead, he just nods slowly, avoiding sudden movement that might startle the wild animal ready to bolt across from him.

“Yeah, Shane, to a woman.” 

Shane continues to tear into his own lip. He retreats before Tim’s eyes – crosses his arms on top of his knees and leans his head back. He stares into the rain outside, the beer at his elbow long forgotten. This isn’t the answer he was hoping for. 

“Oh,” he says. 

Tim leans forward onto his elbows, entering into his space again, but this time more hesitantly. Shane’s bare foot is inches from Tim’s fingers. 

“Shane.” 

“Hm?”

“Look at me.” 

With a steady hand, Shane flicks the end of his cigarette with his black thumbnail, ash falling, and with a very level gaze, he returns Tim’s watchful eye. His face is so blank he barely has any features.

“What?” 

“I’ve fallen in love with women and men.”

The impenetrable ice in his eyes melts and Shane frowns. “You can do that?”

Again, Tim nods, this time a faint smile on his face. How easily he forget how fucking clueless this kid is and how fucking cute his obliviousness makes him.

“But I’ve only slept with women before, am I–,”

“It’s not about who you’ve slept with, to a certain degree. It’s who you are attracted to.” 

“So there’s more than just being gay?”

He wants so badly to reach across the edge of the table and take Shane’s hand. Soothe him. Feel those rough calluses against his skin again. He can feel the heat of his own cigarette coming painfully close to the backs of his fingers so he tamps out the cigarette in the glass bowl, Shane’s eyes watching him the whole time.

“There’s a lot of things, sweetheart,” Tim says softly, the nickname slipping out as it had before, in his own apartment with Shane in his lap. He hopes that sweetheart sounded casual, a nickname more than a reflection of the hot knot tightening in his groin. “But at the end of the day, it comes down to what feels right to you. How you see yourself. You might have to spend some time figuring it out, asking yourself some hard questions, but you’ll get there.”

Shane nods, again swallowing the words that are so clearly caught in his throat. He switches the cigarette to his other hand and stares out the window at the rain. Tim’s mouth dries up at the sight of his long, exposed throat. 

“Is that why it didn’t work out between you and your . . . wife?” Shane asks quietly.

Tim runs his gaze over the piercings in Shane’s earlobe, the delicate bones within the cartilage, then to his set jaw and, finally, over his plush, pouty lips.

“No.” He can hear how hoarse he sounds, how wrecked, but having Shane in front of him again, all those feelings, all those basic urges he denied for the past few weeks come roaring to the front again. He of all people should have known suppression and repression never, ever work. “We were just different people. It had nothing to do with the fact that I also fuck men.”

He watches Shane tremble, the skin on his bare arms suddenly electrified. Slowly, with a shaking breath, Shane twists out his own cigarette, pushing it down roughly with two fingers. 

The thing that has been circling Tim’s mind – like a rabid dog tearing out chunks of his ability to think straight – slides out of his mouth before he can stop it.

“What have your other partners told you?”

Call it twenty years on the force.

Call it a finely tuned bullshit detector. 

Call it whatever you want, but in that moment before Shane opens his mouth, Tim knows he just considered lying to him and Tim’s heart plunges into his gut. He loathes the idea that Shane might lie to him, lie to him about being queer or an aspect of himself he still has questions about. Having someone older and more experienced than him in life alone at Shane’s age would have made all the difference to him as a young man and more than anything, more than his stupid cock, that’s all he really wants. He wants to be there for Shane because no one, not even his own family, has ever told him he means a damn. 

And you mean so much to me already.

Then Shane lets out a shaky breath, the crease in his brown carved deep, but one glance at Tim and it melts away. Without warning, he stands up right and for a split, wonderful second Tim thinks he’s going to crawl into his lap again.

But Tim realizes he’s waiting for something.

With a voice that comes from a very small place, Shane mutters, “there hasn’t been anyone since you.” 

He blinks up at Shane for one second, and then two, and his words register, click in, and everything else fades away. Tim’s on his feet with his finger snagged through one of Shane’s belt loops before common sense or patience can catch up with him.

“Is that right?” Tim purrs as he takes the curve of Shane’s neck in his massive palm, the other going to waist, and Shane instantly gasps at the touch. But that initial elation hardens and he glares at him. Tim is distinctly reminded of an annoyed puppy. 

“Don’t sound so fucking pleased,” Shane snarls through bared teeth. His black nails dig into Tim’s forearm, a warning and a plea. “It’s not like I think about you all the time or anything.”

His eyelids droop when Tim squeezes the back of his neck and Shane lets out a low moan. Tim drops his head against the other man’s forehead. The boy smells like cloves and cinnamon and definitely pot and it’s going to haunt Tim’s memories forever. He closes his eyes and resists the urge to nuzzle that bare cheek. 

“You’re all I think about. Every minute, every day,” Tim hums, “I can’t stop thinking about you and all those little sounds you made when I fucked your ass.”

Another sound, a better one, squeaks out of him – one of protest and desperation and carnal need – and Tim’s control snaps in his hands. 

The hand on Shane slides to the back of his head and Tim all but shoves those pouty lips into his mouth. 

It’s just as fucking fantastic as he remembered. 

Frantic. Needy. Tim kisses him like it’s his job to lick clean the cigarette smoke embedded on Shane’s tongue, on the inside of his mouth, the split cracks in his dry lips. His fingers tangle into that starkly black hair, the strands faintly damp, and his other hand slips to his low back. At that, the boy pulls back enough to let a whine escape from his open mouth before Tim yanks him against his chest. He feels Shane grow hard against his thigh and all the blood rushes out of his brain. 

Briefly dizzy, Tim stumbles forward, his hands catching the table behind Shane’s hips, pinning the younger man between him. He nips at Shane’s neck, trying to get the world to stop spinning.

“Fuck me, baby. You’re going to give this old man a heart attack.” 

Shane guides him into his mouth, his fingers clawing gently at the scruff of his beard, a slower, softer repeat of how Tim had initiated. Warm air puffs across Tim’s beard when Shane retreats, eyes searching for something he needs to find on Tim’s face. 

“Actually,” he breathes softly, “I really do think about you all the time too.”

Tim has never been more grateful for the rough grip on his cheeks because that’s all that’s keeping him from sinking to the ground on wobbly knees. Shane takes another kiss before his hand slips into Tim’s meaty paw and tugs him into the living room. He guides him back to the couch and, with a not-too-gentle push, shoves Tim down against the cushions. The detective goes without resistance.

The pale light from the rain beyond the window and the fluorescent glow behind him etches Shane in a soft halo. Brightness in Shane’s eyes tells him that the man is running on instinct alone – and that’s perfectly fucking fine. Whatever – anything – Shane wants, Tim will gladly offer it up. 

But when his hands drop to Tim’s belt buckle, the rush of heat up his body leaves him almost catatonic. 

“Mhmm, f-fuck, sweetheart, wait a second – d-don’t wanna rush things if you’re not –,”

The sound of his zipper tearing open is like a gunshot and there’s no denying the raw hunger that smears the edges of Shane’s eyes to a dangerous black.

“You have to walk me through it.” He sounds awe-struck.

He sinks to his knees and Tim considers he might actually die on this fucking couch. The heat radiating from those black-tipped hands that run up his thighs has Tim moaning in the back of his throat. He wants to curl that beautiful hair around Shane’s elegant ear – what would he say if Tim told him he has an elegant ear – but he’s using all of his energy to not immediately come when Shane tugs his pants down his hips, just enough to palm him through his boxers. 

As if the sensation of a half-hard cock surprises him, Shane’s lips split apart, eyes locked onto the wet spot beneath his hand. Tim swipes his bottom lip with his tongue, knuckles white as he grips the cushions, watching with aborted breath Shane stroke him gently. He grits his teeth.

“Tell me you want this.” Tell me I’m not forcing you into anything too fast because I’m fucking obsessed with you.

“I want this.” Shane shuffles closer, his hand dipping down to cup his balls, the scent of his cloves hitting Tim again, and Shane quietly gasps as the cock beneath his hand hardens more and more. “I wanna s-suck your cock.”

Tim grunts, his legs opening wider, sliding low into the cushions and now Shane hovers over him. Here is where with other partners in recent years, Tim would lock up. There’s gray in the curls at the base of his cock and his tummy hangs out a bit more, no matter how much he runs. But Shane doesn’t seem to register any of that. His mouth is still open in raw fascination, as if showing off how fucking deep he’s going to take the cock inches from his face. The sight splits heat between his groin and his heart. Tim is not going to fucking rush this. He’ll let Shane touch whatever he wants for as long as he wants even if it makes him come like an overeager teenager. 

Suppressing that peak of heat at Shane’s touch, Tim digs his fingers into Shane’s mop of hair like he’d been wanting to since the kid first offered that drink. At his immediate touch, Shane’s eyes roll back in his head and Tim takes that as an opportunity to scratch at his scalp, with a slight tug at the end. 

“Oh, fuck, please lemme me suck your cock.” 

Shane’s breathing hitches when Tim loosens the grip on his hair, runs his thumb down his temple, scuffs his cheek, and then drags that puffy bottom lip down. He looks absolutely ruined, eyes misty and shoulders slumped forward, and Tim has barely touched him. 

“Take me out, baby,” Tim murmurs, “and I’ll tell you what to do.”

Wide eyes never losing their nervous light, Shane dips his hand below the elastic waistband (why didn’t he put on better underwear?) and cups him, slowly dragging his shorts lower as he pulls Tim’s cock into the light. 

Tim has to remember to breathe. Fuck, it’s so hot in this fucking room. With trembling fingers, he tugs the knot of his tie away from his throat and unbuttons his shirt down to his ribs, as Shane runs an experimental grip up and down the length of his cock. Tim hisses as heat flares brightly and a little too fast. 

Shane’s eyes flick up to his face. “Sorry, too dry?”

Without waiting for a response, Shane cups his hand beneath his mouth and spits, a giant, slick glob. It might be the hottest thing Tim has ever witnessed with his two eyes. Shane’s hand returns and Tim’s eyes flutter shut as he groans. 

“S-s-shit, baby, that’s really good.” 

Tim wants to open his eyes, to see Shane’s face, to get a glimpse of what is going on in that beautiful head, but he can’t drag himself out of the lusty haze long enough. 

And then, after several slow, long pumps that have him harder than he can ever remember being, Tim feels Shane’s palm twist just as his thumb swirls the head and swipes the leaking tip. Pleasure roars up his spine and his hips jerk off the couch. His eyes snap open and find Shane not proud, but surprised. His mouth opens again in glee.

“I fucking love that too,” he murmurs, his hand moving a bit faster now. “Love it when they play with the tip.”

“Mhmm, hmm.” 

As Shane finds a slightly hurried rhythm with his strokes, Tim is greedily storing away images and sensations in lockbox after lockbox in his memory. Has Shane’s hands always looked so thick?

“You can try whatever you want.” Tim murmurs, his gaze jumping between the hand around his cock, Shane’s mouth, and that hand with the black nails against his thigh. “If you like something, I’ll probably like it too.” 

Shane wets his lip, his eyes darting to Tim’s face as if looking for permission. Tim nods, his heart pounding in a completely different way than from exertion, and has to breathe into his stomach as Shane parts his lips and lowers his mouth to his cock. Inch by inch, he takes him deeper and deeper, his hand falling away to Tim’s other thigh, as he sinks closer to those gray-streaked curls.

Tim is genuinely caught on the knife-edge of pleasure and pain. Exquisite pleasure saps his entire body of energy, every grunt and sigh bursts of tiny releases, but with every inch into Shane’s warm, wet mouth, his tongue a rough glide on the underside of his cock, it becomes harder and harder to not buck his hips and god, does he fucking want to. He wants to grab Shane by the back of the head, hold him steady, and fuck that mouth like it’s the last fuck of his life. But he won’t, he can’t – Shane isn’t ready for that and quite honestly, neither is he, despite how the arousal of that mental image floods him with hot satisfaction. He’s going to tear apart this couch with his bare hands, though.

Shane gets about halfway and then chokes and Tim is yanked out of the dream in a panic.

“B-baby, are you okay?” 

Shane splutters and nods, the back of his hand coming to his lips, as if trying to hide his smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he croaks. “My gag reflex is shit though.” 

Tim sighs with relief and a strangled orgasm. He’s so hard it hurts but he doesn’t give a fuck. “You’re doing fine, sweetheart. Better than fine, actually.”

Tim meets his eyes as they go dark and hungry with a flash of that spitfire that Tim only ever saw on the other side of a metal interview table before. 

“Guess you’ll have to train up my reflex, then.”

“Yeah?” This kid has no idea what he’s playing with. Shane kneels between his spread legs, hands gently rubbing the meat of his thighs, those dark eyes swirling almost maliciously. Tim pinches Shane’s chin between his thumb and curled forefinger, thrusting that belligerent mouth up. “You gonna listen to an authority figure for once in your goddamn life?” 

“I’ll try my best,” he pouts, his neck arched back. 

“Blow on it.” Tim commands. “Start from the bottom and go to the top.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tim’s cock visibly throbs and Shane hasn’t even opened his mouth. But then he does, leaning forward when Tim releases his chin. He blows a quick burst of air around Tim’s curls, before opening his mouth wide and breathing heavily, wetly, warmly around the base of the cock in front of him. Then, as he was told, he lifts up and to the very top of that leaking head. 

“Take the tip – just the tip – and suck on it, gently at first.”

Shane does as he is instructed, his eyes never leaving Tim’s face or losing that maniacal glint, and he sucks, making a similar face (Tim assumes) as when he’s slurping up ice cream. Shane sucks harder and a loud, lewd moan rips out of Tim’s throat. 

“Now take it all in, as much as you can. Then swallow.”

Shane dips his head, mouth gliding down his veiny shaft, spit slipping out of the corner of his mouth, going down and down and down until he breathes sharply through his nose. Tim, clutching at sanity as it sprinkles through his fingers, watches the sharp planes of Shane’s shoulders and back churn and roll as he lifts his head up and down. He wants to loop his fingers through those black curls so badly.

“I’m gonna touch you now, okay?” Shane grunts his approval, the blush of air against his groin sending a bolt of pleasure up Tim’s spine, and he soothes his own tattered nerves by digging into Shane’s hair, scratching a bit like he had before. But then he loosens and just lets his hand rest contentedly on the back of his head. 

The drumming beat of rain and Shane’s wet mouth is a narcotic. The sight and sounds and smells of it all makes his brain melt, deep desires usually chained down by his restraint snapping and popping free like fireworks.

What’s he going to feel like when Shane can take all of him?

How long and how often does he have to do this to train him up?

Could he come home after working a twelve hour shift to Shane crawling onto his knees and sucking him off, just like this? Like this, in perfect domestic bliss –

Out of nowhere, Shane swallows and Tim has to claw into his own thigh to keep from coming right then and there. 

“Oh, fucking Christ –,” he yelps. As if encouraged, Shane tries to go a little deeper, swallow a little harder, but he gags again. When he lifts his head, his eyes are wet and Tim wonders if it's possible to black out from being so aroused. 

“Sorry,” Shane mutters, wiping his mouth again. “Your cock is so fucking big. It felt big in my ass but this –,”

Tim’s eyes slip closed. “Shut the fuck up. You can’t – can’t say those things.” 

He breathes heavily, the pounding in his heart only slightly stronger than the blood pounding in his cock. But Shane is suspiciously quiet.

Tim opens his eyes and finds a curious expression on Shane’s face as he stares at Tim’s cock. No, not his cock, a bit below –

Shane turns and tugs the low, tattered table behind him closer. He puts Tim’s foot against the edge, and then does the same with the other. The haze in Tim’s brain won’t let him piece it together until Shane dips his head, tongue already out.

“Whoa, whoa, baby–,” he grasps Shane’s shoulder and he stops. “I can’t ask you to do that. I don’t want to push you too far tonight.”

Shane rolls his eyes, flatly annoyed. “I’ve eaten ass before, Tim. I’m not a blushing fucking virgin.” 

Tim can actually feel the second that sweat breaks out across his hairline. “A-are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I actually know what I’m doing there. I mean, an asshole is an asshole, right?”

He isn’t sure if he likes how fast Shane has grown in confidence, or if it’s the sexist thing he’s ever seen. Maybe he’s the one not entirely ready.

“Y-yeah. Alright. Fire away, then.”

And with that first kitten lick, Tim finally comprehends just how fucked he is. He knew he was, but it’s not until Shane masterfully rims the edge of that ringed muscle does he know, with clear certainty, this kid is going to ruin him.

Shane’s hand curls around Tim’s shaft, his tongue prodding his asshole, and Tim makes a loud, open-mouthed moan that hits the quiet air of the apartment and shatters.

Within seconds, he’s hurling towards a release so violent, his thighs shake. Shane pumps him slowly, his mouth making everything wet and drippy, his eyes eagerly catching every twitch and moan Tim makes. 

When Tim feels his balls draw up, dangling over the precipice, he snatches Shane by the hair and yanks him back. Again, Shane makes a sound like an irritated cat.

“C’mon,” he huffs, his face red as if he had mitigated his breathing. “Lemme do this.” 

Tim swallows everything – his tongue, his orgasm, the desire to lick the brat right out of Shane’s pouty mouth – and shoves it all down as far as it will go. He’s left sweaty and panting, holding Shane by the flat of his hair at arm’s length. He swallows again and sits up, that airless high settling. Shane scowls petulantly

“You still want me to fuck that ass, right?”

His glare cracks in half. Those swollen lips part and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Then you fucking listen to me when I tell you to stop sucking cock. Got it?”

Shane nods more insistently, tongue swiping fast against his bottom lip. “Y-yeah.” 

Tim lets go and resists the urge to correct him to how he addressed him before, but fucking Christ, one thing at time.

“Which one is yours?” Tim nods towards the two closed doors across from him. Wordlessly, Shane points to the one farthest from the living room. “Show me.” 

Tim barely grunts as he stands up, his knees dangerously unsteady, his back twinging from the low position on the couch and the fact that there’s more padding on a highway road than inside of those cushions. 

Again, just as he thinks he might tip over, Shane takes his hand, intertwining their fingers, and leads him through the door. 

The sun had set on an already dark day, so in the burgeoning twilight, Shane’s room is a collection of shadows and blue outlines. Beyond the vinyl window slats, the rain pours harder than ever, muffling the sounds of cars on the street and the blunders of other people in the building. With the door closed, the air is warm, but not uncomfortably so, more like a soothing hand against his sweaty neck. The pleasant scent of incense is unmistakable, a far cry from any other smell in the apartment. 

The effect of it all, standing in Shane’s room, alone, is . . . isolating.

“It’s not much,” Shane murmurs, as if he worried Tim would find something about his space distasteful. “But I did clean up.” His eyes grow wide as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Not that I thought, or even expected that this – that you’d –”

Tim brings their locked hands to Shane’s cheek and gently, sweetly kisses him on the mouth. For a man so confident in his ability to drive his partner insane with his tongue up their ass, the boy quivers beneath a soft touch. Tim pulls back and finds blurry, unfocused eyes. 

“What do you want to do tonight?” Tim hums and strokes an errant curl back from Shane’s cheek. 

“This.” Shane says immediately. “This feels so fucking good.”

“Where do you sleep?” Tim asks, quietly, letting the words slow to a rumble, his free hand gently cupping the boy’s neck. The bed is unmissable, but he wants to give Shane as much control as he needs. Beneath his hands, Shane’s breathing stutters for a moment, before biting down on his bottom lip and leading Tim to the haphazardly made-up bed. He sits, big eyes staring up at him, at their bound hands, before releasing his grip and lying back on the bed. He scoots up, nestling that all black hair against his gray pillow.

“Here.” His voice is strangled, choked, his fingers twisting together as he picks at his nails. “Right h-here.” 

“Is that why you look so good right here, baby?” Tim slides the tail end of his tie out of the knot and off his neck. Shane licks his lips, transfixed, as Tim continues to unbutton his wrinkled shirt. The bit of clothing falls to the floor and Tim nearly matches Shane in a white sleeveless shirt. Black and white, punk and cop. There’s poetry in there somewhere.

Tim continues to undress; shoes first, then socks, and finally his slacks. Shane gets a little jumpy as he crawls up the bed. 

“Are you comfortable?” 

“Yes.” Tim raises an eyebrow at the jeans confining his hard cock. “No, sorry, n-no – I’ll take them off.” 

Tim gives him enough space to unbutton his pants, then sloppily jerk them off. He flings them over by Tim’s and Tim grins. He settles back down with Shane nearly underneath him and gently strokes his cheek. Everywhere he touches on the boy, it’s warm. Women aren’t like that, usually, and in turn, it satisfies something deep inside of him. Tim thinks of the tender warmth of the heated skin of a deer after it’s run a long distance. 

“You still want it, baby?” This he asks honestly and without the grungy purr to his voice. 

Again, without hesitation, Shane nods, but then stops. His chest swells like the words he wants to say are caught on the back of his throat, his nails gently biting into Tim’s chest, so Tim presses thoughtfully into the arch of Shane’s jaw, encouraging him. His doe eyes darting across Tim’s face, tension coiling up in his thighs, Shane says,

“I want it from the back this time.”

Oh, fuck. 

With half of a groan and half of a laugh, Tim dips forward and loosely bites Shane on his ear. “You really are trying to kill me, aren’t you?” 

Shane giggles as Tim’s nips slowly turn to open-mouthed kisses. He sucks sharply on the thrumming pulse of his neck, and Shane groans, his whole body writhing to be closer to Tim’s mouth, his skinny arms going around Tim’s broad shoulders. 

“Do you mind?” Shane asks, breaking apart for a moment, his lips brushing Tim’s mustache. “I know you did it last time and if you wanna, um, I mean I can try but –”

Tim grins through the smile pressed onto a corner of that sweet mouth as he sits up on his knees. He smooths a hand up through the faint trail of hair just above Shane’s waistband, then up his ribs, stopping to thumb a hard, pink nipple, before kissing both of his cheeks. 

“No, I don’t mind. I will never, ever mind when you ask so nicely.” 

“But one day – you w-want me too, right?” 

Ribbons of meaning hang over that question, their soft tassels hard to grab before slipping through Tim’s grasp. His brow furrows, his hand resting on Shane’s hip. The boy stares up at him like he hangs the moon in the sky.

Those ribbons drag forward new questions of their own, questions he can’t ask himself, much less out loud. They all clatter and fall into one big heap in his mouth and he can’t untangle them right now, not while he has Shane looking like that, but one slips through before he can stop it.

“You wanna do this again, with me?” The question lingers in the air like smoke, as gentle and insistent as the rain outside.

Shane’s fingers curl around Tim’s wrists. He smiles. “Yeah, of course. I . . . like you.” Blush trickles up his neck and into his ears, but he keeps his grip. “If you wanna keep me around, I mean.”

His voice goes small, from somewhere he never lets anyone see. Just as Shane’s eyes jerk off him, shame hot in his gaze, his body going rigid, Tim leans down and kisses him, the softest kiss they’d ever shared. The scent of cloves comes again as Shane offers his tongue and Tim takes it. 

They kiss in the cover of the rain, in the shelter of the space that is entirely theirs, for one eternity and a half. When Tim opens his eyes, he is someone new, someone changed. Someone he doesn’t recognize and that’s a wonderful thing.

“I’ll take you like you want,” he says softly. Beneath his chest, skin to skin, he can feel Shane’s heart pounding. He hopes Shane can feel his. “But I wanna see your face for a bit. Is that okay?” 

Shane nods and kisses him as he tries to pull away. Tim smirks and rubs Shane’s hip bone with his thumb.

“Remember what I said about preparing? Have you been doing that?”

Shane bites his lip as if caught doing something particularly filthy. “Yeah, I’m up to three fingers now.”

Fucking hell. Be cool about this. 

“Good, baby. Do you have lube?”

Shane rolls his eyes, that blush now blotchy on his throat. “Duuuh. I don’t know why you think I’m some bl–”

“– ushing fucking virgin. I heard you the first time.” Shane narrows his eyes playfully and Tim cannot wait to spank that smirk right off him. “Then go get it.”

Shane wiggles out from between Tim’s legs and crawls over to the bedside table. He digs around a bit before pulling out a box of condoms and a blue bottle. He tosses them at Tim like he’s throwing laundry detergent, before hovering for a moment. Lips between his teeth, he stiffly slips his underwear off and down the floor. His bracelets clink as he moves and Tim can tell it sounds like an air raid siren to him. Naked, he crawls back to bed and settles beneath Tim flat on his back.

“For someone who is so bothered by authority,” Tim begins and just as Shane frowns, wrenching his mouth open to argue, Tim sits back between his thighs and folds his knees up, spreading him wide. Whatever retort Shane had dies on his throat and the only thing left is a soft whine. “You are such a good boy. I didn’t even have to ask you to get naked for me.”

Shane’s cock, exposed for the first time all night, twitches on his stomach. He squirms as Tim picks up the bottle and clicks up the lid with his thumb, his other hand resting briefly on the arch of Shane’s foot. 

“I’m gonna start with one again, but move faster into two this time, okay? Then we’ll see if you’re lying to me or not.” Resistance flashes in Shane’s eyes at Tim’s smirk, but the boy stays silent. 

But that defiant look melts away to aching bliss when Tim drizzles the lube between his cheeks, and then Tim’s own fingers. His other hand curls around Shane’s knee and squeezes, grounding them both. 

“Probably should have gotten a towel,” Tim mutters and the sound Shane was going to use to reply fractures and crumbles, oozing into a throaty moan when his asshole spreads apart around a single finger. 

Maybe it’s his age, or maybe he’s never had his asshole played with in a way he likes, but Shane is so fucking sensitive. He’s twitching and gasping after a few strokes, black nails curling into the bedsheets. His eyes are squeezed shut, not from pain or discomfort, but from trying desperately not to come. Tim recognizes that look; he wore it himself fifteen minutes ago. 

Shane’s cock is trickling all over his stomach by the time Tim adds a second finger. And true to his word, it goes in without much resistance, much to Tim’s delight. This means there can be a bit more fun than just aimlessly prodding. Shane lets out a high moan when Tim’s fingers change angles. 

“What the fuck are you doing down there?” Shane pants, sweat peaking at his hairline. He moans again before Tim can answer, his back arching off the bed. 

“Searching.”

“For fucking what? I–,” Shane’s eyes snap open, horror and heat etched in the dark rims. “You can’t touch that, it’s not fair. You’ll make me come.”

Tim kisses his knee as he adds a third finger, grinning when Shane’s head thumps back against the pillow. “I think that’s the whole point of this, sweetheart.” 

Shane whines his answer; Tim speeds up his thrusting, giving up for now. 

“You’re doing so well, darling, so well. You did so good to prepare for my cock.”

Shane fists the bedsheets, his thigh muscles tightening. Tim thinks he can’t actually comprehend his words, until he wrenches his jaw apart. “Just your cock. I did it for your cock, Rockford, no one else’s. Don’t - don’t want anyone’s cock but yours in me.” 

This is just cock-drunk babble, tongue loose with whatever nonsense fills his mouth, his brain no longer in control.

Right?

Either way, Tim slips his fingers out with practiced precision, easing on the condom, then squirting his cock and Shane’s exposed hole with lube in one go. If Shane has noticed anything, his blissed out expression doesn’t change . . . until he feels the tip of Tim’s thick head expand his asshole.

His stare locked onto Shane’s blissed out face, Tim pushes forward, using Shane’s knees as leverage. 

The boy honest to god chokes. His cock spits up his chest. 

“Ohmy god . . .” 

Tim goes slow enough he knows it won’t hurt, his fingers opened him enough that the lube only adds to the pleasure, but he’s not entirely worried about that right now. He wants him stupid and babbling again.

“This cock, sweetheart? This is the cock you’ve been making room for?”

Shane whines, lips white between his teeth, nodding vigorously. Tim rubs his hip soothingly and Shane’s face breaks open with a loud gasp. His eyes snap down to where he swallows Tim inch after inch.

“You’re so much bigger than my fingers. Holy fucking shit. I forgot how big you are.” 

“But you like that, right?” There’s a collective sigh of relief as Tim finally is flushed against him. Huffing like a wounded animal, Tim pushes the mop of hair back from Shane’s sweaty forehead. “You like how I fuck you, don’t you?”

Shane nods again, as Tim grips his waist and he wraps his fingers around Shane’s forearms, his bracelets tinkling softly, as he settles in for what he can’t even possibly imagine.

“You’re damn fucking right I like how you fuck me.” Shane rasps out. “Wouldn’t let you do it if it didn’t rock my fucking world.” 

“I’m gonna go a bit faster than I did last time. You say stop if it gets to be too much.”

“I know what a safeword is, Rockford, I’m not –,”

Tim rolls his hips forward, knocking a surprised breath from Shane. He stabilizes a bit better with his knees and then picks up a rhythm, slow but deep.

“If you say blushing fucking virgin one more time, I’m putting you over my knee and spanking you.” 

But words fail him.

They fail Tim too, eventually, when rings of heat stack, one upon the other, up his spine. Every time Shane’s asshole clenches around him, those rings drop lower, closer to his groin. 

It feels too fucking good. 

The rhythmic chime of Shane’s metal bracelets clinking together can barely be heard over the rain outside, and the peaks and valleys of the heavy moans piling up in the room.

Shane’s flattened hand against his head board, he grinds his hips down, forcing even more resistance than just his tight hole. 

“Fuck,” he whines high and loud, Tim tightening his grip on his waist as he all but bounces Shane on his cock. “Oh god, I can’t – I can’t –,” 

Tim’s skin is so hot he wonders if he’s giving off steam. He’s sweating from his forehead, his neck, the backs of his knees, a slick wetness spreading across his groin every time he slams that cute little ass back against him. Not another single word of derision has passed Shane’s lips in what feels like forever, his mouth switching rapidly between grinding his teeth and dropping open when Tim brushes up against something nuclear. 

If Tim is steaming, Shane is melting. Every muscle in his body is weak, knees around Tim’s hips to give him better access. Cum rolls in white streaks off his stomach and onto the rapidly shifting sheets. 

Tim knows if he just breaths on the that pink cock, it’s all fucking over – so he slows, and pulls back out of him. 

A Shane with a functioning brain would have demanded an explanation but the gooey mess of a boy in the bed only lifts his gaze. 

“Turn around,” Tim pants. 

“What?” 

“You wanted me too . . .” Tim spins his finger, squeezing the base of his cock with his other hand. “Turn over.” 

“Oh, right.” Despite that almost sleepy murmur, Tim can hear the disappointment. At the head of the bed, a shaking hand swipes away one pillow then the other and Shane buries his face in the mattress.

His ass is already pink as Tim spreads his thighs, his knee nudging his right leg to bend, and lines up. But Shane is murmuring something into the sheets. 

“… stop.” 

Tim freezes, one hand around his cock the other flat against the bed by Shane’s hips. 

“You want me to stop?” 

Shane lifts his head enough to look back and whine. “Don’t — don’t stop.” Crackling with unspent energy, Shane rubs his face against the sheets like a cat. “Please.”

Tim grins as he lines himself up again, his free hand coming to Shane’s thigh when the cockhead spreads his cheeks. 

“Don’t worry, darling, I’m not gonna –,”

Tim stops moving. It’s long enough and unusually fraught enough for Shane to lift his head in confusion, Tim’s cock barely in.

“What happened?” 

Tim is staring, struck dumb and mindless at the sight of Shane’s lower back.

“You’ve got two dimples here,” he murmurs, the growl in his voice thick and rough.

“Yeah? So?”

Without warning, Tim yanks Shane onto his hands and knees by his waist. The sudden movement is rough for his loose muscles and he yelps. 

“Fuck – what’s got you all fucking twisted up now?”

Tim is no longer entirely himself. His shoulders seem broader, nose sharper, mouth firmer. His eyes have been eclipsed by black as one by one, he puts his hands on Shane’s hips, and then twists his thumbs to fit into the divots of his dimples as he, achingly slow, pushes back into Shane’s abused hole.

“You’ve got fucking handles built in, baby.” Tim murmurs and heat radiates from where they are connected, Shane’s skin flushed with red and goosebumps. The sensation jams the signal to Shane’s brain. 

Behind him, Tim kisses his back almost lovingly.

“I’m definitely gonna wreck your shit now.” 

On the first tug, the one that snugs Tim’s groin right up against his ass, Tim knows he only has seconds left in him. 

These strokes are brutal, fast, and short. Whatever sounds tears itself from Shane’s throat is the prettiest thing Tim has ever heard. His mouth goes wet as he watches Shane’s shoulders and back go loose again and on another day, he’s going to clench his fist around that mop of hair and pull until Shane begs him to stop.

Another day. But not today. 

Tim focuses on the things he can control to elongate that enormous orgasm that rattles his teeth. His thumbs in the perfect little divots of Shane’s back; he pushes down, increasing the pressure higher up, and actually hears the cum squirt out onto the bed, followed by a groan that shakes Shane from head to toe. He focuses on his breathing, the short huffs out his nose, mouth closed shut but tiny mhm mhm mhm’s escape anyway. He tries to focus on the glint around his pelvis but that makes things worse. 

He focuses on – fuck, what can he focus on? – Shane hasn’t made a noise in –

“Shane, baby, are you okay?”

He gasps out as though electrified. “I’m trying so hard not to come, I don’t want it to fucking stop, but you hit my g-spot three thrusts ago and I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Tim can’t help but chuckle. He rubs a warm palm up Shane’s spine, then gives his neck a reassuring squeeze, before leaning forward and draping himself over Shane’s trembling frame, never slowing those fast, rough thrusts. He noses his ear as his hand slips around the cock leaking profusely onto the sheets. 

“You can come, but it has to be loud and messy.” 

Just half a stroke down and Shane comes with a cry that paints the inside of Tim’s brain permanently. And he keeps coming, gasping, wet and whining. Over his shoulder, Tim feels a dribble against his knee and that, combined with all of Shane’s delicious fucking sounds, knocks free Tim’s own release, the swell and burst far away from his control. Shane’s elbows are trembling by the time he slumps to the side, trying and mostly failing to avoid his own cumstain. Tim drops behind him in a haze. 

He’s already sore, every muscle tightened then released over and over and over again. He can’t inhale properly and he’s got a stitch in his side. There’s a pulsing all over his body and he isn’t sure if that’s from coming so hard he nearly shot off the condom, or his heart pounding like it’s about to explode. His skin is wet and sticky and he’s hungry but exhausted and he would hate all of this if he was alone, but . . .

Weary down to his bones, the breath settling in his chest and the fog lifting slightly, Tim puts a hand on the narrow waist in front of him. Fingers join his, wrapping together, as the frenetic energy of the room slows to a crawl, each moment plodding along in front of the next like fat water droplets. 

“. . . good, that was good,” Tim slurs to no one in particular, his eyelids flickering open and shut. “You’re . . . s’good.” He knows they should talk, but he’s past speech, or rather anything coherent, his consciousness slipping beneath the churning dark waves of sleep.

The smooth back in front of him, shiny with drying sweat, shakes in a dizzy, silent chuckle.

“Go to sleep, old man.”

Tim knows he should be offended, or he thinks he should, if he could comprehend language right now, so instead he settles into the warmth and the darkness. Soon the only sound he can hear is the rain pattering against the window and Shane softly snoring before reality winks out.

+

[cryptidghostgirl]

Hello hi- back to my shenanigans again (the one with the fake dating + lobby portal + frozen half the pentagram surely not an OC ahahah anonymous asker) - anyway- heres some MORE angst.

Reader's past lover- died waaay before reader back in their teens because readers mother found out about their not so heterosexual relationship and decided to shoot them both but only killed one- reader escaping and killing her mom in return (let’s name her Charlotte- with mane wolf features- so wolf+fox+deer features a combination! ) and barely moved on after meeting Alastor like years later, yet still haunted by Charlottes dead eyes reader saw when she woke up from some sleepy poison. Now Charlotte is in heaven and reader in hell alongside their radio-lover lover!

Yet somehow- maybe though a very uncanonical accurate meeting where angels go down to see the new hotel after hearing sinners can get redeemed Charlotte (not to be confused with Charlie) is one of said angels and suddenly all those waves of emotions come rushing back and reader can do nothing but stare.

but oh wait! Angels/Winner dont remember their past life so reader goes to her- and shes just “Oh hello! Whats your name? :3” (shes an angel and loves the stars and plants and everything nice can do no wrong) “I-… I guess you dont know me in this lifetime” (AND DOESNT TELL HER THEYVE MET BEFORE because what good would that bring?)

But alastor is also there lurking in the back. watching them- he knew someone was in readers life before him but reader never said more than that. Will readers feelings for Charlotte come back? Will reader stay to the infatuation of murderous acts that Alastor bought them? Will reader choose the pure love that might not spring again?

The infamous blizzard demon overlord! that never dropped their mask around others that always seemed to have the upper hand in any situation, the cold- charismatic- brutal and ruthless overlord- suddenly speechless at the reappearance of someone they used to know. How will everyone react?! “Sweet as a pea, but sharp as a knife- now shocked like the stars have fallen”

GAAAH MY BRAIN IS TOO BIG ANF FULL OF ANGST!!!!! Heres some kisses too: maybe next fic its me x you pookie 😘😘🥰🥰😘😘😘😘

A/N What a wild way to close off a request, I honestly got so much respect for that. I don't do OCs but for the sign off comment, I'll make an exception. Also I am assuming you want this as a part two to Frostbite because she's still a blizzard demon?? Apologies in advance if I got that wrong. Also,, not you quoting something else I've written in your request. That's crazy, thank you so much for the love.

Day Lilies (Alastor x Blizzard demon!Reader x Angel!OC)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Part One: Frostbite (Alastor x Reader)

Warnings: Homophobia (from other people and internalized) and murder. Smoking/cigarettes and angst. Always angst. I think that is it, please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 2,969

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

The best thing about the Hazbin Hotel, according to some, was the fact that not one but two overlords who had found a home there. The Radio Demon and the Frost. Feared, revered, respected, and making an appearance for the first time in seven long years.

Without Alastor and Y/n's help, Charlie would not have been able to achieve all she had and she was eternally grateful to the pair, even if they were a tad confrontational and violent at times. Deeply in love, indebted to one another in a billion and five different ways, Alastor and Y/n had worked hard for their life in the underworld. As the angel stepped gently out of the portal, following her superior, Y/n felt the pressure of that life as it began to crash down around her.

When Charlie had struck the deal with Heaven to have an angel come down to the hotel to track its progress and assess if any of its inhabitants were worthy of redemption, Y/n had thought nothing of it. Sure, it was a bit irritating but if anything, the deal seemed ripe for entertainment and thats really all she and Alastor were after at the end of the day. She had figured the angel would be some low ranking nobody. She had thought it would be amusing, that they would torture the poor creature, that things would stay roughly the same. Never in her wildest dreams had the notion ever crossed Y/n's mind that the angel might be Charlotte.

Of course, Y/n had known Charlotte must be in Heaven. The girl had always been so kind, so good to her very core. It had just all seemed so far away and now, somehow, there she was, peeking timidly out from behind the seraphim's back.

Charlotte looked different, having taken on some animalistic, wolfish features since her death. Sharp ears sprouted from the untamed mess of her hair, fangs peeked their way out from the corners of her lips but Y/n was sure. It was Charlotte. It was all in the eyes.

"Welcome, Sera." Charlie politely began, taking a step forward.

Normally, such a show of self restraint from the young demon princess would have caused curiosity to spark a fire in Y/n's chest. Now, she just stood beside Angel as Charlie had requested, eyes wide and mind reeling.

"Is this who we will be working with?"

Sera looked at the shy wolf of a girl behind her and nodded her head, gesturing for the girl to step forward.

"Yes." she replied, her voice cold and haughty, "This is Charlotte, she has been with us for a while and we trust her judgment on matters such as this."

"Oh how funny!" Charlie brightly exclaimed, "My full name is Charlotte too but, I go by Charlie. Do you have a nickname you'd prefer?"

"Just Charlotte is fine." the angel softly replied and Y/n's breath caught in her throat.

The girls voice was honeysuckle, it was sticky sweet teen love.

"Why her?" Husk asked and Charlie shot him a glare, "She just seems a little..."

Sera laughed lightly, a caring smile sneaking on to her face.

"She's a little shy, but she is smart. Even when she was alive, she had an ability to read people, to see right through to the essence of their beings."

Charlotte blushed slightly at the compliment, turning away.

The southern sun beat down over head, long grass whipping at their legs as Charlotte, running, dragged Y/n to the center of the field.

"Lottie!" Y/n exclaimed, half laughing, "Where on earth are you taking me?"

Charlotte glanced back at her companion, a mischievous smirk painting her lips that sent bolts of red hot fire through to Y/n's fingertips.

"You'll see."

After a few more paces, they came to a panting halt. Charlotte turned to Y/n, placing a hand gently over the other girl's eyes. With a guiding hand, she lead the blinded girl to a spot a little ways off where she had snuck off to earlier and set up a picnic. There was fresh fruit, Georgia peaches from her family's own orchard, and home made lemonade. Slowly, Charlotte gifted Y/n with sight.

Y/n's mouth fell slightly open as she surveyed the scene before her. Sixteen and in love, she turned to Charlotte, taking both the girl's hands in her own.

"When... how..."

"I know things have been rough at home lately. I wanted to do something to make you smile."

"How did you know? I never..." Y/n cleared her throat, "I never said anything... I nev-"

"You didn't have to. I know you, love. You never have to say a word."

Alastor watched his lover silently from the other side of the group. Charlie had insisted they flank the guests, dragging Y/n away from his side just as the portal had opened. She didn't show it, not obviously, but he knew something was wrong. From the second the portal had opened and the angels had stepped through, she had gone tense, her eyes fixed on the one called Charlotte, the tips of her frostbite blackened fingers tapped against one another in wild thought.

"Well," Sera sighed, looking around at the ragtag group of sinners and demons, "I had best be on my way. I will be back in a few days to pick Charlotte up, please be kind to her over the course of her stay."

With those parting words and a reassuring pat on the angel's shoulder, Sera stepped back through the portal which closed behind her.

"Well," Charlie began brightly, clapping her hands together, "let's do introductions! I am Charlie Morningstar and I run the Hazbin Hotel with my girlfriend, Vaggie."

Vaggie sent Charlotte a wave which she timidly returned. With a deep breath, Charlotte stepped towards the line of sinners before her.

"Alastor." Alastor hummed, grabbing Charlottes hand and shaking it harshly, "A pleasure to be meeting you my dear, quite the pleasure."

It struck Charlie as a bit odd he said and did nothing else but, she made no mention of it. In her mind, Alastor was simply on his best behavior as requested. In reality, he was far too focused on the way a slight flurry of snow had begun to settle on Y/n's sharp shoulders.

"Nice to meet you too." Charlotte replied, extracting her hand from his grip and moving down the line.

Y/n's heart pounded wildly against her chest as Charlotte grew closer. Her tail twitched behind her, flicking back and forth gently, and her breaths grew slightly heavy. Although he noticed the odd behavior, it was impossible not to from his place beside her, Angel said nothing. At long last, Charlotte came to a stop before her.

"Disgusting!" Y/n's mother's voice rang out through the yard, "You are both complete and utter disgraces!"

They hadn't meant to be found out. As far as Y/n's mother had known, Y/n and Charlotte were best friends. Charlotte had come over to help Y/n with her chores, they had been doing laundry out in the yard when Charlotte had playfully flicked water towards her beloved. One thing had lead to another and before long, they had been wrapped up in one another, planting a singular, soft kiss on each other's lips. Y/n felt Charlotte's hand tighten around her own, she took a step forward.

"Don't you dare speak to her that way!" Y/n yelled back, anger burning brightly in her eyes and adrenaline shaking her limbs with wild courage, "Don't you dare!"

Her mother scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"She is a bad influence on you! The devil sent to curse me!"

Y/n's mother stepped forward, grabbing Y/n and wrenching her from Charlotte's grip. Charlotte tugged at Y/n's mother's dress as she dragged her girlfriend harshly into the small house.

"Let her go!" Charlotte cried, "Stop it! We weren't doing anything wrong!"

With a harsh slap to her face, Charlotte was sent to the ground. Her mother threw Y/n through the door, the unfinished wood of the floor sending splinters deep into Y/n's knees as she struggled to get to her feet. Her head had hit the corner of the table in her fall, the world was spinning. Y/n's mother grabbed the shot gun from where it lay beside the door. Just as Y/n managed to stumble to her feet, holding her swaying body up with a hand on the table she had hit, her mother stepped outside and slammed the door behind her, locking it.

Y/n rushed over, trying desperately to wrench it open to no avail. The anger had turned to panic as she heard her mother cock the gun.

"What are you doing!" she heard Charlotte yell and Y/n rushed to the window.

From her vantage point, Y/n watched her mother train the gun on Charlotte who had her hands raised and was stumbling backwards.

"Run!" she yelled, banging her fists on the glass, "Lottie, run!"

"Please." Charlotte was pleading, tears wetting her cheeks, "I promise I wont ever come here again, I wont ever come near her again. Please!"

"Lottie!" Y/n yelled again.

With no regard for her own safety, Y/n punched the glass of the window. The pane shattered around her hand, puncturing her soft skin. Blood, hot and wet, ran down her arm as she pulled her hand back to her side.

"Yeah, you sure as hell wont!" Y/n's mother yelled, her voice thick and low with rage, "You'll be dead!"

Y/n flung her leg over the window sill, shards of glass digging into her as she pulled herself through the hole she had created.

"Lottie!" she yelled again, "Run!"

Her screams were drowned out by the sound of a gunshot. Charlotte held her hands to her stomach, blood pouring from between her fingers. Their eyes met.

"Lottie!"

"And you are?" Charlotte asked expectently.

Y/n shook her head slightly, pulling herself from the depths of her memories. Everyone was staring at her, she had no idea how long the angel had been standing before her. She cleared her throat.

Alastor didn't know what was going on but, whatever it was, he knew he didn't like it. Using his shadows, he appeared behind Y/n and placed a protective hand on the top of her head between her horns. Her hair was damp from freshly fallen snow and Charlotte gasped slightly in surprise at his appearance.

"My dear," he grinned, leaning down to Y/n's ear, "you're snowing."

"I..."

Y/n looked up, her cheeks flushing pink and the heart on the tip of her tail puffing up as she realized what he said.

"O-oh." she stuttered, brushing his hand from her head and the snow from her shoulders as she regained control of her powers again, "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."

The other members of the hotel watched in a mixture of shock and confusion. They had always known Y/n to be cold, to be harsh. They had always seen her devotion to the man behind her as infallible. No one had any idea what was going on but, the presence of the angel stopped them all in their tracks.

"It's quite all right, what's your name?" Charlotte asked again, her voice honey sweet.

Y/n took a deep breath, morphing her features into the closest thing to a kind smile she could muster.

"Y/n." she firmly replied, "I'm Y/n."

Her eyes scanned Charlotte's face intently as their hands made contact. She waited for the shock of recognition, for the tears her Lottie had always been so prone to. There was nothing.

"That's a very pretty name." Charlotte replied, "It sounds like it is from the same era as mine."

That raised some small hope in Y/n's chest. She took a step forward, bringing herself closer to the angel.

"Which is?"

"Oh, I don't know." Charlotte replied, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment, "Angels don't get to remember their lives on earth unless they are pretty high in the ranks. I've been told I was from Georgia though, that I died in the early 1900s."

Y/n froze, her breath trapped in her chest, a knife buried deep within her heart.

"Oh." she mumbled out in a broken whisper, "I guess you... you don't know me in this lifetime."

"What was that?" Charlotte asked, leaning in a bit.

Y/n shook her head, letting go of Charlotte's hand.

"Nothing. I... I need some fresh air, I think. If you would all excuse me."

It didn't take Alastor long to find Y/n once Charlie had let him return to his duties in favor of showing Charlotte around the hotel. She stood out in back of the hotel, her back pressed firmly against the wall and a cigarette crushed between her fingers. Shakily, she took a drag.

"What was that about?" Alastor asked, leaning up against the wall beside her and folding his arms across his chest.

"What was what about." Y/n cooly replied.

"Y/n, don't play dumb."

"I knew her back when we were alive, thats all."

"Is that all?" Alastor asked after a moment, "You seemed..."

He trailed off. Alastor was angry. He had always been the jealous type, protective to a fault. He could see how shaken up Y/n was however and so, running a finger over the ring he wore, Alastor took a deep breath.

"That angel, Charlotte..." her name lingered poisonously on his tongue, "it seemed there was something a lot more than just you knowing her."

"I picked these for you." Y/n bashfully stated, shoving a bouquet tied with a rough bit of twine towards the pretty girl beside her, "Here."

Tentatively, Charlotte took the bouquet from Y/n's hand. She held it gently, watching the way the breeze played with the petals.

"Georgia asters?" Charlotte hummed thoughtfully, "And yarrow?"

"My momma didn't used to be poor. She grew up in a rich family, gave it up when she married my dad. Her momma taught her floriography." Y/n's words came out in a big rush, they chased after one another in a breathless flurry of nerves, "It was big in the victorian era for fancy people, all about talking through flowers. She taught me asters symbolized wisdom, faith, and valor and that yarrow was for healing and... and love... besides, I know you like them. You're always staring at them when were out."

Charlotte looked over at Y/n who's cheeks were bright red. She smiled, her eyes shining.

"I love you too." she said, nudging Y/n gently with her elbow.

"Yeah, but..." Y/n sighed, running a hand through her messy hair, "I... god, Lottie! I don't just love you like a sister. Its... I understand if you don't wanna talk to me anymore I just couldn't... I couldn't keep it in anymore."

Y/n looked away, tears pressing hotly at the backs of her eyes. Charlotte's eyes went wide.

"I understand... I won't be mad... I just... I'll leave."

Charlotte's hand shot out, grabbing Y/n's wrist as she pushed herself from the fence they were leaning against. Slowly, Y/n turned to face her. Charlotte was blushing now too and looked away, still holding Y/n tightly.

"I don't..." she took a deep breath, "I don't love you like a sister either."

"It's wrong... it's so wrong... what would my mother say... what would your mother say, I-"

Charlotte cut Y/n off, standing on her toes to press a soft kiss to the slightly taller girl's lips. It was clumsy and foreign. Y/n trembled, her eyes fluttered shut.

"I don't care." Charlotte said, "I don't care."

"Yeah." Y/n sighed, taking a final drag from her cigarette before stamping it out beneath her heel, "Yeah."

"Do I have anything to worry about?" Alastor asked and Y/n's eyes met his.

He had known her long enough, he could see the conflict.

"She was my first love, Al." Y/n admitted, "We were girls together."

"You're my wife."

"It's different."

"Do I have anything to worry about?" Alastor asked again and Y/n looked back out at the sky.

"She doesn't remember me."

"But you remember her."

"But I remember her." Y/n confirmed, her voice cracking, "I couldn't forget if I tried. She haunts me, Al. She has always haunted me, since long before I even met you. Lottie died in my arms, Al. My mother killed her, shot her right in the stomach. I...."

Y/n trailed off into silence. It was more about her life before she had met him than she had ever revealed before. Alastor took a deep breath, conflicting emotions battling behind his eyes.

"What are you thinking about?"

He was trying to keep his cool, to save face. He was failing, anger and a secret fear ate away at the edges of his words.

"Day lilies."

"Day lilies?" Alastor repeated and Y/n nodded, meeting his eyes once again.

"A floriography thing again?"

Alastor knew of Y/n's interest in the symbolic properties of plants. It was one of the only things she ever spoke about concerning her mother and her shadowed past before that night in Mimzy's bar.

"Yes."

"What do they mean?" Alastor sighed, resigning himself to his fate because god, if Alastor knew anything he knew his fate was Y/n. She held his heart in the palms of her hands.

"Love for lovers. Love for mothers..."

"And?"

His heart pounded against his chest.

"And loss of memory."

----

TAGS:

the ones in red are ones I am not sure worked/having trouble linking.

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0@kahlan170@wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007

[walrus150915]

Happy pride, Nimona fandom :3

I gotcha some sketches! Gotta place them in different parts of the post so that you read everything

It's not just drawings I got HEADCANONS for you too!

Off topic but I love Nimona's design SO MUCH it's so AMAZING TO DRAW AGHHH

So

⚧Nimona LGBTQ+ specific headcanons of mine🏳‍🌈

• I've made a conclusion that if queer flags exist in Nimona universe, as well as gay drag bars (so was confirmed in the artbook), then labels DO exist. As well as good old homophobia??? I suppose????

• Nimona doesn't have a specific label because she thinks they are sorta restrictive. Also she just doesn't need one lol, if somebody asked her about her gender she'd say "Nimona"

• She'd wear the heck out of a "protect trans kids" shirt she bought no she ain't feeding into the capitalist machine she stole it

• There was something between Nimona and Gloreth but Nimona can't exactly say what for sure. Not exactly romantic but not strictly platonic. Homegirl had that toxic doomed kindergarten yuri going on😭

• Nimona doesn't look for romantic relationships. She explains it as "romance is for sappy dumb-dumbs" but in reality she just doesn't want to date and romantically love somebody who'll. Eventually die and leave her all by herself again yk (oh this got angsty real fast)

• Maybe one day Ballister tried to help her find her label (because he still tries to put things in boxes) and she just waved it off

Speaking of Ballister

• My man is transgender. Do I even have to explain. Read one of those posts that explain his transness better LMAO

• He started his medical transition as a teenager and had to fit right in not to disrupt the Institute's function. If he's a man then he has to transition QUICKLY so that others don't notice

• Because of that he's a transmedicalist and probably an enbyphobe at the start of the movie, thinking only one type of valid transness exists, and it's the one that is very binary and restrictive

• At the end he realizes the wrong of his ways and works on the internalized transphobia

• He came to terms with his homosexuality a bit easier. "It's always been boys" yk the drill

A couple of words about his boy lol

• Ambrosius is a painfully cisgender gay man. I genuinely apologize to all Transbrosius believers but he gives off STRONG cis vibes can't have a character with this surname dickless

• He's a trans ally but his opinions on trans issues were like. Very closed-minded. He supported but didn't entirely understand. Of course it changed as he went through ✨character development✨

• He was fully supportive of Ballister on his trans journey. Reassured him when Ballister felt like he wasn't enough, tried to make his boyfriend as secure as possible, loving every part of him

There should be a bunch of rather suggestive headcanons but this isn't that type of post LOL

No but think about Ambrosius kissing down Ballister's body and across his chest scars. This is my ultimate dream as a trans man

• Ambrosius also rocks a "protect trans kids" shirt that's for SURE

• He came to terms with his queerness as a teenager and had a whole crisis about it. As a Goldenloin he had the expectations of ✨continuing Gloreth's bloodline✨ thrown at him back in childhood so he sorta internalized that. Then boom, my boy is g a y and oh how gay he is!

• Click here to read about my headcanons on goldenheart when they had only started falling in love :D

• Ambrosius made inoffensive jokes about Ballister's transness. Like yk those goofy puns like "baby you put men in MENstruation", "omg does this make your parents transparent". Ballister smiled at them and rolled his eyes but also silently appreciated his bf's support, although expressed so stupidly

• He also made sure Ballister took proper care of his body because you know Ballister would not bind safely, being a dumb teen

Anyway yeah gay people

Unpopular opinion but we as a fandom should start drawing Bal with a disability queer pride flag

Side characters headcanons, anyone? XD

• Diego came out as nonbinary after the events of the movie. He got that he/they swag going on

• Also Ballister was his queer awakening FIGHT ME ABOUT IT. He had the stupidest, most childish celebrity crush on Bal. Maybe Bal formed Diego's type in men fjfhhx I like to think Diego got a boyfriend whose attitude is similar to Bal's

• Remember those news anchors? (they are so underrated omg) Well Nate Knight has a husband and Alanzapam Davis is a bi queen🙏

• Speaking of queens. Valerin is a straight ally💪💪 I imagine her being quite iconic on the Kingdom's queer side of the internet. They call her "mother" and stuff aajjaj

• the Director is homophobic, need I say more? So is Todd but I actually imagine him being a type of guy to reject his queerness

Haha mailman *winks at yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt*

• Todd had NO idea Ballister was trans. NONE

• The Kingdom has pride events!! Ambrosius and Ballister were very happy and excited to attend those as an official couple once they were out :}

• Nimona attended them every year, ofc she had to hide her true nature but it was fun for her to march along! And it was even more fun when everyone accepted her!!

Anyway yeah this was very fun to make!! Happy pride y'all, lmk what you think ;D

[frxstguardian]

Analyzing the Jeep Metaphor TM dialogue in Teen Wolf: The Movie:

“After my son left it behind” (after Stiles left Derek)

“Derek towed it in, thinking it was probably beyond repair.” (he still held onto his feelings, despite knowing their relationship couldn’t be salvaged)

“But then he opened up the hood and pulled off all the duct tape Stiles had stuck on it, and he managed to fix it.” (Derek unpacked the internalized homophobia that Stiles failed to confront)

“That Jeep, no matter what’s been done to it, it just keeps running.” (their love will always endure)

“Your dad had complicated feelings about that Jeep” (about Stiles)

“But it doesn’t mean it needs to be complicated for you.” (ally Sheriff Stilinski encouraging Derek’s son to be out and proud)

[echo-s-land]

French queer playlist because why not

Comme ils disent by Charles Aznavour (1972) | about a gay man, he cross-dresses too. Don't really know how to explain that one. It's great, it aged really well (Aznavour was a straight man but he had several queer friends)

Sans Contrefaçon by Mylène Farmer (1987) | wasn't actually written with trans masculinity in mind, but it's a trans masc anthem at this point

Ziggy (un garçon pas comme les autres) by Céline Dion (1991; the original cover/song was in 1978 tho) | girl falls in love with her friend, a gay teen - is sad for herself but doesn't insult him or anything

College boy by Indochine (2013) | a song I found not so long after figuring out my own queerness so it has a special place in my heart. lots of cw for the visual clip (homophobia, bullying, conservatism, police violence, religious hypocrisy, physical assault, crucifixion)

J'ai le droit aussi by Calogero (2014) | gay teenager wants to live like he wants, is scared of other's view/judgement on him (including his parents)

Mohammed je t'aime by Gargäntua (2015) | being gay in the hood is like everywhere else - it may not be a good idea to be public about it. lots of cw for the visual clip (physical assault, homophobia, internalized homophobia, suicide). I hope one day Gargäntua will make a song about Mohammed finding happiness because he clearly deserves it if not for the trauma in this song

comme les autres by keen'v (2015) | gay man (teen?) coming out to his father, father is homophobic

C'est toi qu'elle préfère by Alice et Moi (2017) | sapphic anthem at this point; unrequited love

Normal by Eddy de Pretto (2018) | gay man responding to an homophobe (honestly i find it very satisfying)

Grave by Eddy de Pretto (2018) | the singer is an openly gay man, he talks to a wide range of different gay boys/teens/men and are telling them to not worry when they discover their homosexuality; that it's okay

Séduction by Joanna (2018) | bi woman falls in love with another woman

Ta reine by Angèle (2018) | wlw.

Amour censure by Hoshi (2019) | Hoshi is an openly lesbian singer; the song denounces homophobia

Immoral & Illégal by Gargäntua (2022) | 'Everything I love is immoral and illegal' - if that's not a queer feeling. More seriously, it's more me deciding to interpret the song this way then the song being about queerness. Still, whether you listen to this song and think about addiction, queerness, or any marginalized community, well.. well you can't change my mind about it having (intended or not) queer subtext

La mort avec toi by Gargäntua (2022) | literally 'partners in crimes', I decided it was queer for various reasons but you may not think like me

[mamawasatesttube]

Hi hello,

Random question, but what do you headcannon cassie to look like and dress through-out her teens into adulthood? Both as wondergirl and as cassie? On that same vein, what adult superhero name do you like for her?

Anywhoosies, wishing u a great day!

late teenage into early 20s cassie is grappling with comp het pretty hard and tries to grow her hair out and dress more femme. she hates it but she doesn't know she hates it for a hot minute. this is both as wonder girl and as cassie because she barely exists as a civilian at all for a long time. "cassie sandsmark" publicly was wonder girl for a while, and she tried coming up with a fake name and identity to be a civilian again in tt03, but it was rough on her and she ultimately gave up on it.

so i think that really just weighs on her - she's a hero 24/7, she's leading the titans, she's basically letting the vigilante life consume her and she's gonna crash and burn out hard any day now. i think donna sees this and goes hey... you know you don't have to be exactly like me, right? in fact i think you need a vacation. let's go to themyscira for a bit. and its big sis lil sis bonding time but also for the first time cassie catches herself thinking um... women 😳 women? 😳 oh god. women 😳 and she has a whole crisis about it.

when she comes back from her vacation she does feel a lot more in touch with herself. the problem is that what she sees there (dissatisfied with her work-life balance, worn out, starting to confront her internalized homophobia) freaks her out. so she kind of has a crisis and hacks her hair off with a pair of scissors in the middle of the night and then looks in the mirror like. oh GOD. what did i DO??? oh god oh fuck who do i know who can fix this and won't ask me questions if i say i don't wanna talk about it hhghnggrhgnn...

so she shows up in kansas wearing a beanie at like 1am like kon Please. help. 😭 and she feels So guilty bc he's her ex and he's still kind and loving enough that he does get out of bed despite having an early morning with farm chores, and then he's all sleepily shuffling to the bathroom with her like here. sit. i'll fix your bangs. jeez. and the vibes are so... you know. bathroom light late at night spilling into the hallway. he's cutting her hair. krypto is peering at them from the doorway like why the fuck are you awake. cassie's on the verge of tears bc she wants to tell him why she did this but she's terrified it'd hurt him if she was like i think i was never actually in love with you

but when she finally says it he just stares at her. and then stares at her some more. and then he starts? laughing?? and at first she's kind of hurt like uh. that was serious and also pretty hard to say, what's so funny. and hes just almost in tears holding her hands in the bathroom by the sink like. cassie. ive been so scared of telling you i think im gay. for like. 3 months now. cassie i hooked up with an alien several weeks ago and i had a whole crisis i just refused to tell anyone about. um. yeah. and she's like. YOU WHAT? ALIEN HOOKUP? CONNER KENT? and hes like NOOOO WE ARENT TALKING ABOUT IT. YOURE A LESBIAN LETS TALK ABOUT THAT. but its like. oh! and they click back into place as best friends instead so much more easily than they ever dated. it's about the late night catharsis of it all.

this is a lot of words to say that after this i think she embraces the short hair and starts leaning into masc presentation again. i am a butch cassie truther for LIFE. get that girl some cargo shorts and a carabiner for her lasso STAT. i'm talking those truly heinous cargo pants that unzip at the knees to become shorts. formal cassie rocks the blazer with a bra underneath look. cassie lingerie is a tank top with no bra. she's butch to the bone baybee

as for her adult hero name, i still kinda waffle about it but i've Tentatively settled on "xenia"!! it's taken from one of zeus's epithets and has to do with hospitality, kindness, and the protection of strangers (yknow those rules about breaking bread with strangers etc, those are also called xenia). the og meaning had to do with the idea that a stranger could be a god in disguise so you should always honor strangers, but i think cassie would do a sort of converse of that with it, like i've got the power and i'm gonna use it to protect people i don't know, not for the idea of a boon but because it's who i am. still potentially workshopping this, though.

[rustedpipe]

things that happened on degrassi but i make them about riverdale

they had cheryl say cuckoo bananas one time, zig novak was heraldo, and also vanessa morgan was mike dallas's baby mama so like clearly there's existing connections here. and just like riverdale and degrassi writers-- i love putting characters into situations. so. without further ado..... things that happen on degrassi (tng & next class) that should've happened on riverdale.

betty pelts dodgeballs at jughead during gym class after he is vague about going on a date or not

dolly zoom on archie's face as fred says "your mom is gay"

betty and gay kevin have a fight while filming a fake commercial for unisex cologne for class

^ this with gay kevin

reggie does elaborate business deals with locker trading so that veronica can have the best one

archie sending veronica flowers with a card that says ”you rock! xoxo archie”

jughead choking and needing the heimlich but refusing to let gay kevin give him the heimlich because it would mean gay kevin has to touch him.

betty getting into an actual violent physical fight with blood with a random girl at school

^ okay go watch this video right now you only need to watch like the first minute exactly. the rest is completely optional. i have several scenarios in mind here:

- idea one is gay kevin having issues with fangs for the billionth time and so when in doubt kiss archie? - idea two is something jarchie related either betty or veronica is the dylan here . - IDEA THREE IS DYLAN=JUGHEAD GAY MARCO=ARCHIE. SO WHEN IN DOUBT KISS REGGIE?! - but also. the very first episode of riverdale is veronica so when in doubt you kiss betty. okay like realistically the scene is not like that but i think they shouldve let betty say "so when in doubt you kiss betty." for me personally. she would not fucking say that but i want her to

veronica and jughead go to the college admissions fair while extremely high.

RAS plays a similar role to kevin smith and gives advice to cheryl about being gay

kangs toxic poker game. what more can i say

veronica: as you and jughead’s closest friends- jughead: oh actually i don’t really like you. veronica: SHH!

natasha bedingfield performs at prom. archie gets to dance his heart out and cry a little to unwritten. and pocket full of sunshine woah oh

toni gets so much into vampire books that she makes out with cheryl and thinks about vampires too hard and bites her on the neck (this would be a great reference to vanessa morgan's time on another canadian teen show my babysitter's a vampire and also i think we should let toni be a little crazy for fun)

lgbt mixer at la bonne nuit. nothing crazy happens on the degrassi episode but i just wish it had happened on riverdale. like maybe veronica and kevin sing same love or born this way. (again that did not happen on degrassi just using the fact they did an lgbt mixer at the teen speakeasy as a jumping off point.)

when jughead gets hired by tabitha at pops, he immediately burns down the restaurant. they then go to a casino in niagra falls and get vegas-style married

cheryl adopts a pig (that later destroys her house) instead of coping with being alone

reggie attends a meeting about homophobia brought on by locker room bullying and someone explains the definition of internalized homophobia and he says out loud "im a homophobe" and starts crying

jughead poisons bret with stuff that makes you throw up. this involves cups being switched and a reference to roman history (but in the riverdale version betty supports and enables it)

jughead writes a story about a girl getting stalked who has a protective boyfriend trying to stop it but he makes the ending be that the boyfriend realizes he can never protect her from the stalker so he kills her. and betty is like dude um what that is insane. and hes genuinely like what it's just a story. later jughead ends up still not being able to figure out an ending and burns the script on stage while having a breakdown

they have to build rube goldberg machines for class. it doesnt matter who i just want this to be something

fp and alice wedding where bughead break up and get back together like five times about it

core four smokes weed during 2x14 The Hills Have Eyes (degrassi had an episode where teens were unsupervised in a cabin. Just Like.)

gay kevin does a gay musical production of romeo and juliet.

some film guy that jughead adores comes and does a guest lecture and so in order to impress the guy he smokes weed with chic and makes a terrible insane short film to show said film guy

timeskip jughead does mdma at an artsy party where people are very high and painting with their bodies on the walls and floors. in order to avoid his problems.

gay kevin wears a beret at least once

^ bughead texts

veronica sings triangle tra la le la by patsy cline while in the midst of one of her 'reggie or archie' moments

betty gets really into axe throwing with lesbians (the pretty poisons) in the woods

unfortunately i cannot find a video uploaded of gay tristan performing it but. gay kevin voice riverdale you make drama look! so! good!

veronica trying to tank her father's mayoral campaign by being gay with betty and outing hiram as a homophobe

reggie: for the last time i'm not gay. or homophobic. just missing my best bro....

jughead won't shut up in class so cheryl cuts off some of her hair and then asks jughead to hold the scissors for a sec. and then she raises her hand and tells the teacher jughead cut her hair

beronica has a heartfelt moment about admitting feelings for each other and in the middle of it reggie walks up to them with saddest look on his face and says "am i hotter than archie? be honest. actually don't." and then walks away

veronica comes out to avoid political backlash and the word gets around to hermione who tries to comfort her by saying "no one's gonna believe you're gay. it happens to all powerful women. even hillary"

cheryl and veronica have a fake trial in class over twitter beef

cheryl auditions for a boy part in a play directed by gay kevin. gay kevin initially says no, but cheryl points out that it should be about relating to the pain of the character, not gender. gay kevin agrees and says that he is going to play the part himself because no one understands what he's going through better than him, right?

i'm constructing a reality where fangs is dating gay kevin when he is in the infamous bus crash but instead of dying he goes into a coma. and gay kevin is loyally by his bedside until he snaps like three months in and hooks up with moose. the night he does that, fangs wakes up from said coma.

veronica, speaking to reggie: even though we're a toxic couple, i really miss you and i want our break to be over.

betty has a terrible reaction to weed and someone finds her sadly eating slices of bread from a bag saying “i thought the bread would make me less high but it isnt working”

and finally, and crucially, they should've done a shark in the water style promo for at least one of the seasons. thanks for tuning in.

[bullsandthebones]

"Car Lights"

Billy Hargrove x Male Reader

Fem Aligned DNI

Content Warning: Homophobia, Implied Internalized Homophobia, Foul Language, Hurt/No Comfort, Angst, Alcohol Use, Mention of Slurs

you wanted angst right? that's what you wanted? YOU WANTED ANGST WITH NO RESOLUTION??? YOU WANTED PAIN RIGHT? good because that's what you're getting. not proof read btw.

You knew what you were doing was wrong, it had to be. So why does it feel so right?

Billy was a player, everyone knew that, you knew that. But you still snuck out at night, sitting in his car parked god knows where, to be with him.

Constant thoughts of 'can they see us?' and 'no one will find us here, right?' would spew out of your mouth when it would get quiet. Billy would reassure you everytime, soft words and kisses on your interlocked hands, but it never calmed the intense fear that crushed down on your shoulders, that gripped your heart tight.

Billy didn't like the silence either, he'd fill it with endless conversations, never wanting to stop talking with you. You'd spill your deepest secrets and he'd listen, never spilling his own.

He never let you in.

Every night was an escape for both of you, and during the day you watched him flirt with every girl he could see. He would never touch you the way he touched them, not in public, not with everyone watching. Why did it hurt to watch it?

That night was different from the rest. Billy had invited you to a party earlier that week, promising a fun time. You never believed him, but you indulged him just this time.

When you arrived, the party was in full swing. There were drunk kids on the lawn and loud music coming from inside the house. You walked inside and maneuvered around the dancing teens, spotting the familiar curly blonde hair you had grown to love. A grin appeared on your face as you approached, and it was quickly wiped away.

Billy was making out with some girl you remember seeing in your english class. You sighed heavily before turning and making your way over to the kitchen. It was always like this. He'd never do that with you in front of everyone. You were scared of the repercussions as well, but that would never stop the pain you felt when you saw him like that.

You had decided a drink would help calm you. One drink turned to two, two turned to three, on and on until you downed about six cups. You were swaying, eyes unfocused and brain turned to sludge. As you went to grab another cup, a hand stopped you and grabbed your arm.

In your inebriated state, you slurred out a loud "Fuck you!" and tried to break the person's grip. The person wasn't deterred, dragging you outside despite your complaints. You approached a car, and although you were trashed, you knew who's Camaro it was.

You began to relax in the person's grip, looking up to see that it was in fact Billy. He opened the passenger side door for you and helped you inside before going around to his side.

You looked at him as he sighed angrily and started the car. He opened his mouth to speak but before any words came out, you leaned over and kissed him. A soft, gentle kiss, one that you two had shared many times.

This time it was different. This time people were staring through the car lights.

The lights that were illuminating both of your faces.

The lights that told everyone what you were.

Billy reciprocated the kiss until he realized, until he noticed the lights. He pushed you off shortly after, calling you every slur he could think of. His eyes were wide and he was stuttering, desperately trying to recover his dignity, his pride.

You stared at him in horror, before you looked out and saw the sea of eyes.

All. On. You.

You quickly exited the vehicle, attempting to tune out the jeering and shouts as you stumbled home. A few people threw glass bottles at you. A few of those bottles struck you. You didn't feel it at the time. You didn't feel anything.

Stupid fucking car lights.

[nerdyvocals]

On Fear and Motorbikes

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/F

Fandom: Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies (TV)

Relationship: Lydia/Cynthia Zdunowski

Characters: Lydia (Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies), Cynthia Zdunowski, Nancy Nakagawa, The Pink Ladies (mentioned), Richie Valdovinos, Edward "Shy Guy" (Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies), Gil Rizzo, Lydia's Parents

Additional Tags: Kissing, Lesbians, Period-Typical Homophobia, mostly internalized, Internalized Homophobia, but it's not explicit, more of a feeling looming over them, Wholesome Romance, teenagers in love, Nancy is a good ally, Shy Guy is a good friend, NB Cynthia if you squint, Motorcycles, Overcoming fears, This was supposed to just be about the motorcycle, but then it got a little deeper, Minor Angst, Cynthia is a gentleman, Singin' in the rain references

Language: English 

Series: ← Previous Work Part 3 of On Romance

Published: 2023-06-09, Words:8,783, Chapters:1/1

Summary:

Lydia would take shadows and she would happily turn them into a sanctuary, as long as it meant Cynthia would never stop looking at her like that.

Notes:

This was supposed to be like 2.5k words tops, and it turned into an 8,783 word, 23 page behemoth. It was also supposed to be just a silly little thing about Lydia being afraid of Cynthia's motorcycle, and then it got a little deeper than that. I blame the finale, it made me feel things about lesbians in the 50s.

Anyway, enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

There were quite a few perks to being the director’s favorite student. Especially if your director was Mr. Vaughn. You were almost always guaranteed a lead role, for one, though there were certain exceptions to that rule (one that Lydia was decidedly less bitter about now, considering the outcome). You’d typically get first wind of summer stock jobs directly from his resources. A good recommendation, too. And, if he really liked you, you’d be allowed access to the theatre outside of school hours and be given a key. You could stay as late as you wanted or come in as early as you wished for extra rehearsal practice, provided that you locked up when you were done.

These days, however, Lydia had been using the space to make out with her girlfriend before school.

She peeked around the curtain from her place tucked in the wings, peering across the stage and through the rest of the theatre, to make sure no one else was there. She started slightly when she heard a door click open behind her but relaxed at the familiar footsteps that followed. She heard a bag hit the ground seconds before two hands settled on her hips and warm breath ghosted over her collarbone.

“Morning, sunshine.” Cynthia’s voice was groggy (she was decidedly not a morning person), but the kisses she pressed to the side of her neck were anything but. Lydia sighed contentedly, leaning her head to the side to allow the girl better access, trusting her to not leave a mark. A moment later, she turned in Cynthia’s arms, catching her by the jaw and mumbling her own greeting against her lips.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” Lydia asked when they pulled apart, “My parents will be out late.” She threaded her fingers through the shorter girl's hair and tried to pull her in for another deep kiss.

“Speaking of that,” Cynthia said, giving her a quick peck instead and stepping back a bit, “I have a surprise for you,”

“Oh?”

Continue reading on AO3!

[karmautistic]

souyo will never not be good. like the whole town in visibly pining for u and u go for yosuke hanamura the one guy who is trying to hide it and doing the worst possible job

they r so loser4loser

also literally any getting together souyo drabble mayhaps?

LIKE LITERALLY imagine being the guy who basically saved Inaba and the world , you're a team leader because you make smart and level headed decisions.

And then you see Yosuke, this bumbling idiot who doesn't even know how to thunk before he speaks and you're like. Yeah yes. This one.

In terms of getting together... I think it's so so important that Yosuke confess first. His internalized homophobia is such a large hurdle he needs to get over bc he's like basically almost confessing the entire game ("Like you. You're really special to me." ??????) And then backing out immediately.

And Yu is both... patient but slightly intimidated by the way Yosuke approaches the idea of being gay,, he wants to give Yosuke the time to overcome his own feelings because he's not stupid. He can yell that Yosuke likes him or at the very least is struggling with accepting the fact that he's queer.

But I mean. There's also that part of him that is scared of rejection. He's still just a teen and he can't bare the sting of having Yosuke say no to his face, especially if it's going to be coupled with some statement about how he's "not gay" in a slightly upset? Disgusted? Offended? Tone. Yosuke is his partner who he trusts and cares for deeply and the idea of him being Disgusted or uncomfortable around him feels like the end of the world.

Basically Yu is anxious and emotionally constipated and Yosuke *needs* to overcome his struggles before this can work so I think a huge part of really overcoming it is him confessing first

NOW HOW THE CONFESSION GOES... You KNOW it's started by Yosuke doing something a little bit gayer than usual, followed by silence, and him yelling "BYE" and running away while he processes for a bit. Bonus points if its a build up of things over one week and it really makes him think.

For example: asks Yu to practice kissing for a future gf, says "love you!' When hanging up the phone one night, instinctively reaching for his hand to not get lost in a crowd, etc. It has Yosuke constantly on edge,, all those emotions he tried to stuff down are coming back full force, and now he can't even look at Yu without feeling warm in his chest.

And one night, on a whim of adrenaline an impulse, he runs all the way to the Dojima residence (bc he's dramatic. Too dramatic for over the phone.) And the moment he sees Yu opens the door he just blurts out "I THINK IM IN LOVE WITH YOU."

There's. A deafening moment of silence that's quickly followed by embarrassment as he realized he just yelled this over the Dojima's having dinner. Oops.

Anyways, Yu would ask him to come in and they'd talk upstairs about. Well about everything,, they talk about Yosuke, how scared he was to admit to this part of himself... why he felt that way but realizing he needs to stop caring ehst others think because it hurts him to hide it... and because he loves Yu and knows Yu would never judge him. Yu talking about his internal worries as well, worried that Yosuke would avoid hum like the plague or be annoyed with him for liking him.

And then... they just kinda lay down together and slowly recount all the moments they've had together. The first time they entered the TV world, riding scooters together, Yosuke pulling him out of the Mitsuo hallucination, how angry and protective Yosuke had gotten not just over him, but especially Dojima and Nanako at the hospital, saving the world... everything.

And reiterates "You're really special to me, partner..."

LETS GO GAY PEOPLE

[bakeryblood]

“Seriously, get some help..”

Billy Hargrove x Male Reader

Pt. 2

cw: Homophobic Language/Slurs, Mentions of Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Angst

Nancy stood in front of the mirror twisting and turning to get a full view of herself in the dress she’d planned on wearing to dinner with the Hollands’ as Steve tried to pick between a red and black plaid button up or a blue and white one. “Is this too much? I feel like it’s too much..”

Y/N sighed and flopped back on Steve’s bed as Nancy came and sat next to him, bringing her hand to her mouth and beginning to bite her nails. “I think you’re stressing out too much Nance. But if you really want to go change you probably have enough time while he fixes his hair for the eighth time.”

“I heard that! The hair is perfect, no fixing needed.” Steve hollered from the bathroom connected to the bedroom. As y/N laid there with his eyes closed he’d felt something tugging at his jacket pocket, opening one eye to peek at Nancy holding the orange flier for the Halloween party set for tomorrow in her hand.

“When did you get this?”

Y/N chuckled lightly thinking back at the short conversation he’d had with Jonathan concerning the party. “Byers earlier today, he gave it to me.” Nancy looked away from the flier, thinking over the audacity the teen had to so quickly discard the invite she’d given him. As he quickly turned to you making the bed bounce slightly you looked over at her, recognizing that look on her face all to well. Nancy was intent on getting her way.

“You’re coming to this party.”

“Sorry Wheeler, not happening.”

“What’s not happening?” Steve came out popping the last button on the first into place as he looked at the pair on his bed.

“The costume party. Y/N is coming with us.”

Y/N rolled his eyes and heaved himself up off the bed and looked at each of the briefly. “No. I’m not.”

Steve shrugged, fine with whatever Y/N decided to do or not do whilst Nancy also stood and followed after the teen as they tried to make a quick exit from the room and house. Hoping that would end the conversation.

“Every year Y/N, you just stay hold up in your house. Even I’ve gone and taken mike and his friends trick or treating before, this is our first year we’re free to actually go to a house party!”

Y/N was quickly getting fed up after all the dramatics earlier in the day. He wanted to snap at her to drop it, to remind her that she still had a sibling to take trick or treating and that if you could, you’d jump at the opportunity much quicker than you would agree to go to a party at some rich jock assholes’ house. You stopped at the bottom of the stares and took a deep inhale, placing his hand against the wall to keep himself steady as he calmed down.

“I’m going for the free beer. And if anything happens,” You turned and pointed up the stares at Steve standing behind her innocently. “I’m kicking his ass.” You turned back around and quickly fled the house, the sun setting urged you to hurry home as Nancy held a small proud smile on her face and Steve the exact opposite.

“Me? Kick my ass? I didn’t do anything!”

As per your usual routine you groggily opened your eyes and let them shift to the window beside your bed to confirm that it was still before sun up. Four in the morning give or take. You tossed the sheets off and stood up, stretching before grabbing your jeans from the previous day off the floor and putting them on. You made your way out of the room and as quietly as possible walked down the hall and down the stairs to the restroom on the ground floor of your parents old two story farmhouse that had been around longer than either of them had been alive.

Getting into the small room with a sink and toilet you flipped on the light to look yourself over in the mirror. Slight split in your lip, not that noticeable, it only hurt if you let your tongue run across it a few to many times. The back of your head was still a tad sore but the big kicker was the bruise speckling your back up at your shoulder blade from hitting Steve’s car.

Out of all the markings littering your body that one irritated you the most, every time you raised your arm or bent down and the muscles on your back shifted. Not to mention Harringtons face when it happened, more worried about the dent on his car when you were more scuffed in your opinion.

You stopped looking yourself over and turned on the sink, splashing handfuls of water in your face and spreading some to the back of your next before quietly heading to the front door to put on your shoes and head out to start your chores for the day.

Stables done. Horses fed. Water given. Coffee made. You didn’t want there to be any reason for you to still be home by the time your parents arose and began to wonder the house so you snuck back to your room and after using a rag to wipe the sweat off yourself enough to feel okay about putting a shirt on you did so and then your jacket. Hearing the slight crinkle in the pocket as you slipped it on of a mistreated pack of cigarettes, you then quickly made your way down the stares and out the door.

‘Hold up in the house my ass…Since when do you keep tabs on me like that anyway..’ Y/N thought about what Nancy said the day before and seethed. An entire year since Barb was gone and she just, continued playing along with Steve like they were couple of the year. Truly they were cute. But you just couldn’t do that no matter how hard you tried to mask your emotions around them. Around everyone.

Once she got in good with Steve and his old friends it was like, Barbara and you just weren’t on their wavelength. She tried, putting in more effort than you to stick by her side and attempt to involve herself with Steve’s friend. And look where that got her. You headed for the one place you knew you could just zone out and no one would be around to bother you on a day like today. The school.

Heading for the opening in the fence that led to the football field and the track surrounding it you made your way up the bleachers to the very top and sat down, looking out at the skyline as the sun slowly but surely made its way up to mingle with the clouds. You felt bad. You felt like absolute dog shit. Maybe you hadn’t said those things to her face but thinking them was just as bad. How dare you sit and feel so superior even for a moment when in your eyes you really did everything in your power to let everyone down. Jonathan?

You didn’t even know how he was anymore now that Will was home. During the time he was missing the two of you drifted so far apart you couldn’t bring yourself to make an effort to fix it. It was like you used them, Steve and Nancy, to feel some form of normalcy. And all she wanted was to help you feel that way more. Come to the party, drink, have fun.

You sighed and hung your head down, eyes closed as you allowed your mind to continue to reprimand itself. You didn’t know how long it at had been when you started to hear and feel the vibrations of foot steps on metal. Someone else coming up the bleachers. You didn’t move, sometimes people, usually middle aged men attempting to ‘keep themselves in shape’ came to do laps up and down the stairs. But your assumption was proven wrong when they sat directly beside you on the bench, your sides touching.

You slowly turned your head to the side and when you saw who it was you straightened up. It was the Hargrove boy. He wouldn’t look at you but you could tell he had something to say because the muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched and unclenched his teeth.

“Why..Why did you say those things to me?”

You didn’t respond right away, taken aback by the tone of his voice. It was restrained and soft, a stark contrast to his troubled expression. You tried to place a finger on what exactly he meant, thinking to the day before.

“What? That I wasn’t scared of you?” Maybe it was your feelings still simmering down from earlier but as you readied a cigarette for this conversation you cracked a half smile. “Because I’m not?“

Billy tried his best to keep looking forward occasionally letting his eyes flicker over to you and then back out to the football field. You didn’t need to explain yourself to this guy but you were tired— So fucking tired of holding things in and you knew that if it wouldn’t cause you more problems that you would totally act just like him.

“I mean look, you could probably take me out right now. Toss me down these steps and I’d probably break my neck. But I’m not scared of dying Billy.” As you finished your comment you looked over at him through the smoke and he was staring back at you mouth slightly agape.

“I’m scared of living the rest of my life being scared. Get good grades, have friends but don’t spend too much time with them. Don’t slack off at home, always give 110% in everything..” You sighed and looked away with a soft expression.

“Or they hit you..”

You didn’t have to pretend to be shocked, because you knew. You could tell from the minute he stepped out of the car and felt the need to lash out at Steve that this man had been hurt. Conditioned by that hurt just like you had been. He felt like his life was out of control and he needed to channel his anger to keep anything he could under control.

You tried to feel nothing. You weren’t disappointed, you weren’t angry, you weren’t excited. Every time an emotion bubbles up inside you is the moment you lost control.

Maybe if you couldn’t relate to Billy, you could bring yourself to be mad. Mad that because of the tiniest mark on your face; your split lip, your dad lost it. Angry with you for letting someone other than him beat up on you, no matter how much you wanted to argue that he was wrong. That that hadn’t been the case. You gave up so long ago. And you had made yourself even more miserable by doing the same thing in your personal life.

“I’m sorry—“ you were cut off from apologizing for the basketball game.

“Don’t be sorry, for anything. There’s no reason for it.” He was bouncing his leg, body agitated. He wanted to run. He didn’t want to talk to you or anyone else about these things. But deep down he knew if that was the case he wouldn’t have bothered approaching you. He would’ve just gone on and ran out his frustrations as he’d originally planned when he drove here this morning.

“If you don’t want me to talk anymore we don’t have to. If you want me to leave, I can do that too..” You stood up, having no qualms with letting him have this space but he grabbed your hand to stop you.

“No! I want to talk! I so fucking angry all of the time because of him, and I take it out on people like you..I get so sick with myself…That I can’t just man up and give him a lick or two back and make him leave me alone.” His grip on your hand tightened almost to the point of it being painful and as you watched on you noticed his bouncing was now shaking, he was shaking in anger.

“I’m..so fucking scared he’s going to start hitting Maxine..and her mom..she’s a nice enough woman but nice isn’t enough for him.” He licked his lips before he continued and you watched on as his eyes began to shine, the first signs of tears building up. “My mother was a saint. Cooked, cleaned and worked part time and it wasn’t enough to keep either of us safe from him. She’s seen what he can do and if she didn’t run then, like mine did, she won’t run once he starts in on Max..”

His grip on your hand weakened as a tear slid down his cheek, as depressing and emotional of a topic as it was it felt like a weight had been lifted off of him. He didn’t plan to do this. His plan was originally to just ask you why you said what you had. But he wasn’t stupid, he knew subconsciously that there were similarities to you two just as much as there were differences.

“I know it’s a stupid question but..” Although he wasn’t keeping your hand in a death grip anymore you continued to hold his. “Do you wanna put a hit out on him? I know a guy..”

At one time not too long ago you were considered pretty funny. You often found yourself being the comic relief for your friends if it helped with whatever negatives were haunting them at the moment. And as you watched Billy’s shoulder move as he laughed you knew you still had it in you. “It’s me, I’m the hit man, but still. The offer stands.”

“So what, you kill my dad and I kill yours? Then what, we send each other letters for the next 50 years to life?” Y/N grinned and pointed at him. “You would actually send me letters?”

The lighthearted banter continued for a few moments, you both having a pretty good handle on dark humor but eventually you looked down at his hand resting in your palm and released it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

“I told you, don’t say sorry. For anything. I’m serious.” His baby blue eyes peered up at you and his face confirmed it that he was in fact, dead serious.

“You..” ‘Have really beautiful eyes.’ “You’re from Cali’ yeah?”

The two of you carried on and talked about California, his friends that he missed, surfing that he missed even more. Just the ocean in general. You kept to asking questions and listening, it was so incredibly amazing how he readily opened up when given the chance. If he was happy to tell you then you were happy to hear about it. But eventually you remembered Nancy, and Steve, and how they were likely going to be arguing over costumes for the party all day leading up to it. Along with that you’d felt as if you’d also had a weight lifted off of you. Perhaps the one that had been keeping you from being there for your friends, particularly Jonathan.

“Ah, this was..really nice. But there’s something I really have to go do.” You watched as the breeze tousled his curls as it softly blew past and he kissed his teeth, nodding his head. He would never say it, that he was disappointed that they two of you couldn’t keep talking. It was like he’d spilled his guts to a complete stranger and now he had to work backwards and get to know you. Which he hadn’t succeeded in doing at all.

“Well, let me give you a lift then.” You backed away nonchalantly waving off his offer. “I couldn’t ask you to do that, really it’s fine.”

“You didn’t ask me.”

Jesus his tone could really switch on a dime. As you looked passed the bleachers you stood on at the line of parking spaces behind the fence you could see that amazing blue Camaro begging you to come get in. You weren’t a car nut by any means but you also had never even been close to something that nice.

“Okay. But just this once, unless you want that thing to start smelling like a barn..” you mumbled the last part but hearing him start laughing again as he rose up to follow you down the stairs you knew he heard. “This whole town smells like a barn so that’s pretty unavoidable.” You couldn’t argue with that.

________________________________________

“So what did you need to do all the way out here?” Billy had kept the music at a minimum which was so out of place for him, but he had repeatedly made attempts at conversation during the drive in between you giving him directions.

Y/N tried to think of a good way to word it, he didn’t know why he felt like he might need to lie to them, but in reality it made sense. They had just met and spilling their woes to each other was one thing but involving someone else like Jonathan..it just wasn’t his place to do that.

“My friend, he’s in the..well he does photography, and his mom asked me to help him take photographs of his little brother and his friends in their costumes..” You didn’t feel right lying and you didn’t feel like it was all that convincing either. Any other time you found yourself to be a master liar, you had to be.

“That’s nice I guess, Maxine said she wasn’t dressing up so I think I’ll be off the hook. Taking her around and all.” He commented as the car idled loudly out in front of the old quaint Byers family home. Y/N nodded and opened the door, getting out and leaning down.

“I appreciate the lift, thank you.”

Billy had a small cheeky grin on his face and nodded, “Anytime, really.” As soon as the passenger side door was shut he reached for the radio and flipped it on, music playing loudly as he peeled out of the yard and then down the road he went in the direction they’d come.

Y/N looked back towards the house and saw the Joyce’s familiar face looking out the window, disappearing as you approached the door. “Y/N! Gosh it has been a while hasn’t it, Jonathan is in his room. Come on, come on in!” She excitedly ushered you through the front door and you sighed contently at the home you used to spend so much time at.

“Jonathan! If you would turn that music down you might know we have company!” She hollers as she made her way back into the kitchen, preparing a dinner for her and you assumed the kids whenever they returned. It looked like a decent amount of prep work but you knew Joyce always went above and beyond for Will and his friends, and you.

You heard the loud music slowly lessened as you approached his bedroom and when you opened the door the lanky teen almost hopped out of the bed where he had been making a wholehearted attempt at doing absolutely nothing. “Y/N? You scared me..”

You sighed with a smile and entered the room, looking around and quickly noticing there had only been very slight, minimal changes. “I’ll try to be less scary, but it is Halloween.”

Jonathan watched them walk around the room as he stood there awkwardly. Despite that he did feel a difference when they came in, the way they spoke to him, it was different from their interaction at school. “Did something..happen?”

Y/N sighed and nodded before coming to sit on the bed. “I’ve been told a lot today to stop saying sorry Jonathan, but I kept thinking to myself, I really need to apologize to you.” Jonathan gave a breathy laugh and shook his head as he stared at your back.

“Why would you need to apologize to me?”

“Because I haven’t been there for you like I should have been..”

He slowly walked over to look at the despondent expression on your face and tried to chime in again. “Y/N everything has been crazy this last year, you don’t need to—“

“No Jonathan I do!” Joyce’s head perked up as she heard the muffled but still loud voice from her eldest sons room.

“There isn’t an excuse good enough to just let our friendship smother itself out like that. I managed before, I’m ready to fix things. I’m ready. I can manage now.” Y/N kept his eyes shut tightly as he let how he felt spill out. He knew it had to be the healthy thing to do but it didn’t stop the sad fog that hovered the two of them.

“Y/N..” Jonathan sat on the bed beside him and threw an arm around him. He didn’t feel worthy of the emotional apology. It takes two, and he was guilty of letting the stress of his brothers accident and his feelings for Nancy get the better of him. He was the one who had felt like a piece of shit for letting his friend drift away.

He knew he was the only one Y/N had confided in about his situation at home years ago. When he’d see him walking the hallway at school with that empty look on their face it just hurt so bad, because he was torn between feeling like he needed to be there 100% for his brother and mother which was true but also that he couldn’t save Y/N. It felt like he was taking on too much and the moment it seemed his family had readjusted he was emotionally and mentally spent.

“I’m sorry too okay..We’re all good now, we’ll make it better again.” He mumbled, holding them as they took deep breaths through their nose. Trying so desperately hard not to cry when they’d both just managed to get the best possible outcome from the situation.

“You know, that party tonight?” Y/N said. Their voice still slightly shaking. Jonathan let them go and threw his head back, groaning in pretend agony. “I’m begging you, please don’t make me go with them alone. Nancy will quite literally hold me at gun point if it means she gets me there.”

Jonathan thought it over for a moment before realizing that they weren’t wrong, she did still have his fathers gun from last year. “My mom wants me to go with Will..but I know he doesn’t want me chaperoning him for the rest of his life..” He whispered the second half of the statement just in case his mother had come to listen in as he knew she likely would, curiosity getting the better of her.

“I will try, okay? I will really try.” Y/N gave a content sigh, comforted that he wouldn’t be thrown to the wolves that were loud, drunk teenagers by himself.

“But first sign of puke or fighting and we’re out of there. Got it?”

“Got it.” Y/N smiled at him and the two spent a few hours chatting and reconnecting until Y/N decided he should probably go to Nancy’s to see if they had agreed on a couples costume or if she had strangled the indecisive Steve. Jonathan offered to give him a ride to her home until both of them thought about it and decided against it.

“I’ll be fine!”Y/N promised a worried faced Joyce as he made his way out the door. Waving to her as he quickly headed through the yard and down the street.

________________________________________

Steve held his arm out in front of Nancy causing both of you to stop as he watched on in disgust from behind his sunglasses as a large man in a football player uniform threw up into the bushes beside the path leading up to the front door. “Oh god, gross..”

“It’s a house party Nance, there’s going to be a couple ‘party fouls’.” He lead the way inside the packed house full of people in costume and as they attempted to weave through without spilling and drinks Y/N’s eyes scanned the crowd in search of Jonathan.

Cheers and chanting echoed through the house over the music, sounding like it was coming from the backyard and as Steve greeted a couple acquaintances explained his get up, looking like he was dressed like a snazzy yet casual Tom Cruise. Nancy looked around uncomfortable and slightly annoyed which was the feeling you’d gotten from here the moment you arrived at the Wheeler home hours ago. The moment you’d allowed yourself to be okay with the concept of coming here the person who was the reason you felt obligated didn’t seem to want to be there.

“You want to uh…get us drinks?” You offered and she slid her eyes to you as if to say ‘obviously’ and off you went. As you made your way to the kitchen it really set in how incredibly hot it felt in the house, all the bodies breathing up all the air. Surprisingly there weren’t as many people congregating around the table that held partially empty bottles of liquor and a large punch bowl with frothy red liquid resembling blood perhaps. You looked it over nervously before grabbing two of the disposable plastic cups and dipping one in and taking a sip off the top. Foul.

You set it on the table and looked over one of the bottles, picking up and deciding if you were going to drink something in the hopes of being intoxicated by the end of the night you might as well start off with something you actually knew what it was. Pouring a double shots worth in the plastic cup and downing it before wiping your mouth and taking the full cup of mystery juice to Nancy who was standing off away from Steve as he talked to Tommy and another boy from the swim team if you were right.

“We’ve got a new keg king Harrington, whatcha think about that?”

“Yeah, eat it Harrington!” The man whose name you couldn’t be bothered to think of slapped Steve on the chest and he quickly pulled his sunglasses off, bluffing as if he might actually do something.

“Give me that..” Nancy pulled the cup out of your hand as you tried to prevent her from spilling it, watching her quickly down it in one go.

“Nancy..”

“What? Where’s yours? You heard Steve didn’t you? We’re supposed to be being ‘stupid teens having fun’ tonight…get with the program..” You stood there shocked at her blunt attitude towards you and she quickly brushed past you on her way to the kitchen where you’d just came from. Steve watching from a distance before making his way after her, going around to the kitchen the opposite way.

You were alone now. At a party you didn’t want to be at. Coming because you thought it was the right thing to do for your friends..You rubbed a hand up through your hair and quickly departed through the teens towards the back door. If there’s a ‘keg king’ there’s a keg.

And there was in fact both out on the patio.

Standing beside the keg with a lit cigarette was the young man you’d spent the early morning with, shirtless. A glossy leather jacket on but doing little to cover his moist, tan built torso. Was it sweat? It couldn’t have been with how cold it was outside in contrast to the high temperatures inside the house. Although he had to admit it might’ve also been his apprehension from being surrounded by people that were nothing more than strangers to him.

“Hey Billy, isn’t that—“

“Yeah that’s the faggot that coach yelled at you for putting on the ground yesterday!” Tommy laughed and clasped a hand on Billy’s shoulder as he took a long drag off his cigarette, eyeing you. You tried to ignore the comment, you were too used to hearing that insult thrown your way. But all the pairs of eyes on you didn’t help the heat that you felt creeping up your neck as you made your way to the keg. You looked at the stack of cups identical to those inside that sat on the glass patio table next to the trio and as you reached for the nameless teen with a red bandana tied around his forehead to snatch them up by the plastic bag they sat inside.

“I’m sorry, I don’t recall inviting the freaks to my party. Did you invite him Tommy?”

“Nope, sure didn’t.”

Y/N looked between the two of them and then at billy for a moment. His demeanor was nothing like this morning but everything like the basketball game. You knew it was a front, hoped it was as you turned on your heel and as you reached the open sliding door you raised your hand up flipping the three of them off. If he wanted to play along with them then you could play too.

“Ooh that queer is so dead!” Tommy huffed and rushed forward to give chase after you but Billy blocked him, giving a quick shake of his head before tossing his spent cigarette. “I’ll handle them.”

The two men looked at each other and smirked, giving him the ‘ok’ sign before going back to chatting up a couple of girls who came to fill their cups from the keg.

Y/N pushed his way through the people that stood between him and the kitchen, seeing Nancy downing another cup of the disgusting liquor concoction as Steve stood around annoyed. “Nancy, that’s enough!”

“Oh, I’m sorry? I forgot the part of your plan for tonight where you became my dad..” She mumbled as she went in for another dunk just as Y/N came by and swiped two of the half full bottles and slipped on past.

“Y-Y/N! Help me out here!” You held up the bottles in the air as you kept walking to substitute for a shrug. “Stupid teens having fun Steve! Get with the program!”

He watched on in disbelief as his words from earlier in the day were once again thrown in his face and Nancy spewed her drink, covering her mouth as she laughed at hearing what she’d told then teen earlier in the night be used against her boyfriend. The red liquid dribbled passed her fingers and down onto her white turtleneck blouse but after using the back side of her hand she went to finish the drink to which Steve attempted to snatch causing the flimsy plastic to crush in both of their hands.

“Damnit! That’s it!” He snapped as she looked at him hazily before rushing off.

Y/N had given the entry way one last look over before heading to the front porch where he then went to the brick wrap around wall and took a seat. Placing the bottles on either side of him as he dug his cigarettes out and lit one. This is was huge mistake. If anything coming here tonight ruined the rush of good feelings he’d been riding all day.

“Hey!” Heavy footsteps quickly approached him and looking up with an unimpressed expression that quickly changed to a big smile when Jonathan raised his hand to wave as he walked the length of the porch to get to him.

Y/N jumped up and hugged him tightly around the midsection causing them to tense and raise their arms up. “Whoa uh, y’all been drinking?”

“Everyone’s drinking..”

“Two bottles?” You pulled away from him and looked down at the bottles before back at him.

“Want one?”

The two of them sat while he finished his cigarette and occasionally took a sip from the bottle until Jonathan asked for it, easily folding and giving it up to the lanky man. “So Steve and Nancy are fighting, and there’s assholes here…color me surprised..”

“And I already saw someone throw up so we can leave now if you want..”

“Well shouldn’t we at least check on them?“

Someone cleared their throat towards the doorway and the two of you looked up to see billy glaring you both down. “Wow, how many guys in Hawkins are you fucking? I’ve heard a lot of things about this fag here but you..you’re new.”

Jonathan jumped up and they both advanced on each other, practically getting nose to nose. “That’s my friend.”

Billy licked his lips with a grin, “Ohh excuse me, just friends then. Well then, tell your friend that we’ve officially hit capacity. No entry.”

Now, maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was Jonathans readiness to jump to his defense. He didn’t know. But as he stood up and made his way over to the side of the two men he looked billy up and down one last time. “Stop me then.”

And with determination in his step he headed for the front door after being absolutely convinced he was ready to leave before he come to show off for his friends. That’s what you had thought until he had grabbed you and slammed you against the door frame, leaning in close to your face with his eyebrows furrowed. “Halloween Photography eh? I’d like to see those. Next time you lie to me I’m not going this easy on you, understand?” His cheek was pressed against yours as his hot breath hit your ear and the smell of beer wafted off his skin.

“Get the fuck off of him!” Jonathan shoved his arm in between your bodies and successfully separated you, billy taking his hands off your shoulders and you shook as you kept your eyes on each other.

“You’re a psycho..” Jonathan shook his head as if he was disappointed in the man and pulled you out of the doorway and down the porch as people had begun to pile up to watch the goings on. As Jonathan led a silent Y/N to his car Tommy and Tina’s boyfriend, who happened to be the partner in instigating the conflict ran up to Billy who was still breathing heavily on the porch as he watched them disappear.

“I don’t think you’ll be having anymore problems from him Hargrove.”

“Nope!”

He huffed and walked over to the two bottles of liquor where the two had been sitting and picked one up in each hand before walking back into the home and lifting one up before tilting his head back and pouring it into his mouth as the rest of the men cheered and chanted once again.

[thewritingisconsumingme]

please love me again

a/n: it's actually so important that you read the warnings this time. this was a culmination of stress, and so i implore you to not read if anything triggers you.

please call 988 if you're in the US and having suicidal thoughts or (212) 695-8650 to contact the Trevor Hotline for LGBTQ+ youth. if you've been sexually assaulted or raped, please call the hotline 1-800-656-4673. you do not have to struggle alone.

summary: kung jin wants his heart to stop feeling

warnings: internalized homophobia, homophobia, non-graphic descriptions of rape/noncon, suicide ideation, loss of self, destructive habits, PTSD

Kung Jin hadn’t always thieved for a living. He had a family who loved him and supported him when he was younger. He had been normal by all of their means: got straight A’s, attended every scientific related club, and got along with the rest of his family. He had an especially close bond with his uncle, Kung Lao, and his uncle was the one to encourage his love for archery despite his parents telling him to quit and focus on his studies. He was liked by everyone, and yeah, maybe he was a bit too cocky for his age, but what pre-teen wasn’t?

It wasn’t until middle school when he kissed a girl for the first time, behind the school in between classes, that he knew something was wrong with him. He had kissed the girl and felt none of the butterflies or the whirlwind of bursting emotions swelling in his heart. Rather, he felt dead inside, a little disgusted, and later he wiped his mouth of the taste of the girl’s cherry blossom lip balm. He was supposed to like this girl. The most well-liked girl in their classroom, and the most well-liked boy in the classroom was meant to be a perfect match. But, Jin instead found himself staring at a boy in his class, one that was lean and strong and not too academically gifted but could shoot a hoop like no other in the school.

When he came home that night, he couldn’t get the boy off his mind and felt a deep well of shame bubble in the pit of his stomach. He was a boy, he wasn’t supposed to like other boys, it was unnatural, wrong. And still his feelings persisted no matter how he tried to suppress them. He found himself imagining how soft the other boy’s lips were, how strong the other boy was and how he could easily pick up Jin.

Jin’s mind grew more in disarray as he started heading to the shooting range more often, shooting arrows until his fingers bled and his muscles screamed at him because he couldn't take his mind off his feelings any other way. He still kept up with his studies, but everyday his heart hurt as he watched his doomed romance wilt and die as he watched the boy in class start a blossoming romance with another girl in class.

And then everything changed when an exchange student came to the school, a tall American boy with strong eyes and a sharp jaw. Jin had fallen heads over heels for the boy, befriending the boy as quickly as possible and showing him all the spots in school to hide from teachers and bringing him to the shooting range. His heart pounded everytime he went to drag the boy along to someplace he found sacred in his heart, and whenever the boy got too close to Jin or placed a friendly hand on his shoulder or his chest, the archer’s heart pounded in his chest. He especially loved it when the American commented on Kung Jin’s eyes, admiring how pretty and dark they were.

Then, one fateful day, in the hidden corner of the school, the American boy had pulled Jin close and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, and Jin’s face became aflame and his heart pounded like a bull against its stalls. And that started their little love affair, hidden from the world and from Jin’s family. Every stolen kiss and lingering touch was a risk, a danger that everyone could see, but it made adrenaline rush through his veins and his mind spin every time they hid away to indulge in each other’s love. He didn’t have to think about how his love was wrong, how his feelings for a boy were forbidden. The deep well of shame in his stomach didn’t seem so deep with the American boy pulling him from it.

He spent less and less time with his family and spent more time with the boy, neglecting school and archery to hang out with his lover. He held onto that relationship like a lifeline, as if he was drowning in a sea of his misery and the boy was a lifeguard diving in to rescue him. He didn’t see the signs, eyes blurred with love, as the boy burned his bridges for him: isolating him from his former friends and his family. Even still, Jin still talked to Kung Lao, albeit excluding certain details of his affair with the American boy, but then Kung Lao died and he was alone.

When one day, one of Jin’s former friends went looking for the boy, sent by the teacher to tell him that the office had called for the American boy, the student had found Jin on top of his paramour, kissing him. The American boy had seen the student in the corner of his open eyes and immediately pushed Jin off him, and his demeanor changed right in front of Jin’s eyes. The American shrunk in on himself, pointing at Jin and trembling as he told the other student that Jin had forcefully come onto him and kissed him before he could react. Jin tried to refute, hands reaching out for his former friend, but the student had grabbed onto the American boy and retracted his body in retreat, calling him a disease and that he needed help before disappearing.

Kung Jin ran out of school and ran to the shooting range, notching arrows and shooting them in disarray, his arrows crooked and inaccurate at his lack of practice and tears blurring his vision. His dad stormed in hours later, angry and red in the face as he screamed at Kung Jin in front of everyone, calling him slurs and hateful words and throwing Kung Jin’s belongings in his face and telling him to never come back.

He thought the American boy was saving him from his shame and his fears, but he fell even deeper instead, drowning completely in the black sludge of hate and fear. He fled the town, hopping onto a train and riding far away from everyone he ever knew or loved.

And when he arrived in a new town, he found no one wanted to hire a teenager who had dropped out of high school, and he grew hungry, running out of the meager snacks he had on him. In front of a grocery that rejected his application to work there, he eyed the cheap ramen in the aisle and when the owner wasn’ looking, he snagged some packs and ran far until he was back into the little alcove he stored his belongings. He learned to survive, got used to the cold, used to the rain, used to the sneers that others would give him. He stole and stole, taking things he didn’t really want or need, bitter at the world and himself for loving a boy.

He traveled around China, never staying in one place for two long in fear of getting caught with his stolen trinkets. He spent his time in back alleys, shooting arrows at bags of trash and bottles strung up with dirty string. His fingers bled and his eyes were teary as he released arrow after arrow, but he learned to fight the pain and to suppress it. He would never love someone like that, and no one would ever love him again.

And then, he passed by the mountain where Kung Lao had done his training and decided to go and pay respects to his uncle. Kung Jin stole a coat and traveled up the slick mountain, rain clouds thundering in the distance. He traveled around in the dark of the night, remembering the monks that Kung Lao had introduced to him, old men insistent in their ways. Kung Jin entered Kung Lao’s grave shrine and paid his respects to his dead uncle, forcing his sadness to stay under and to kill his feelings once more. He scowled at the jade statue at the grave and swiped it, needing a bit more money and thinking that Raiden didn’t deserve to have this memento when the god had inadvertently caused Kung Lao’s death.

Raiden had confronted him, and Kung Jin fought him and won. And when Raiden offered Kung Jin a home, where he would be fed and warm and no one would judge him for whom he liked, the archer felt hesitant. If he was betrayed again by someone new he called family, he would never recover, but he decided to place what little trust he had in the god and went to the Shaolin Monastery. True to his words, they accepted Jin for who he was and trained him to be proficient with the bow and martial arts. But, he stayed on the outskirts of the temple, sleeping in the drafty rooms and eating less than everyone else in fear of growing too complacent. In fear of them finding out he was not worthy and that after he had grown used to this life that they would cast him out into the rain once more.

It had been a sunny day, Jin reading the scrolls of Outworld underneath a cherry blossom tree, when he felt a shadow overcome his figure. He looked up to find a boy only slightly younger than him, bright-eyed and curious as to what Jin was reading. And well, he was quite attractive as well, but Kung Jin grabbed the feeling swelling in his heart and shoved it deep back down.

His name was Takeda Takahashi as Jin learned, and against Jin’s will, the boy persisted in befriending the archer and followed him around, asking Jin to train with him, asking how Jin was so pretty, telling him that he had gorgeous eyes. And well, Jin couldn’t resist, and the barbed thorn around his heart grew more dull, more soft until his heart was vulnerable and exposed as a fawn in a flat open field. Jin hated how he opened like a flower for the boy, how Takeda managed to make him happy, how he felt so loved in Takeda’s presence.

The whole battle surrounding Shinnok passed, and Kung Jin watched with hard eyes as Takeda became more and more enamored with Jacqui, taking her out on sweet dates and leaving soft kisses on her lips. He took his heart in his hands once more and willed it to please just die, so he did not have to suffer anymore. He screamed and ripped and tore at his own feelings, begging it to just stop and perish, and yet it persisted, soft and warm as ever.

Kung Jin left, going off to find Kung Lao and bring him back to the living world. He needed to get away from Jacqui and Takeda and everyone. He couldn’t bear to see it. Not when Takeda went up to Kung Jin and asked him to be his best man. Not when he scrambled off, heart breaking at the crestfallen expression on Takeda’s face. But his efforts were fruitless in traveling to the Netherrealm, Kung Lao had only fought him, ripping through Kung Jin’s arrows with his hat and stabbing at the most vulnerable parts of Kung Jin’s self. His uncle that he had adored so much stabbed him with violent words, saying that he should’ve never trusted Raiden like a fool, that he would never live up to Kung Lao’s name, that he was worthless and unlovable.

After Kung Jin escaped back from the Netherrealm, battered and bruised and tired, he went back to the monastery, the last place he had, and Takeda found him. Takeda updated him on how he and Jacqui were doing and asked if his adventure was worth it. Kung Jin stayed silent, willing his tears to just dry up. He couldn’t, wouldn’t cry in front of Takeda.

He burned his own bridge with Takeda, brushing him off, and went to Outworld without a word to everyone else to act as an ambassador. Only Sonya knew he had gone off. and he kept her updated monthly with lengthy virtual transmissions. He drank his sorrows away with alcohol when he wasn’t working, finding women to sleep with every night and trying to convince himself that he liked them. But he only found himself drowning and drowning and drowning.

One night, too drunk to really care about what was going on, a man took him home for the night. Kung Jin couldn’t stop himself from sleeping with men after that, bedding anyone he could see and anyone that possibly liked him back to try and escape his past and his feelings, but it turned for the worse when he was too distracted batting his eyelashes at a patron that slipped something into his drink and stole him away.

It was a personal hell. Rough hands grabbed his body, slapped his face, tore his heart apart, and he stopped fighting after some time. His heart died as more and more time passed and no one came to rescue him. He forgot his past. His family. His friends. His own voice. His face. Himself. His body was starved of adequate food and water, and his mind was broken over and over again when a new customer would come in.

He would imagine that he was back on Earth, with his friends, talking about something trivial with Cassie and teasing Takeda and Jacqui about their relationship.

Time passed, and he imagined it was just him and Takeda together underneath that blossom tree in silence.

Time passed, and he imagined that he was with someone warm and comforting and soft.

Time passed, and he imagined that he was warm and happy.

Time passed, and he imagined that he was warm.

With every customer that wanted the exotic human, he lost himself and his heart sank to the bottom of an endless sea. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the beginning of this hell, perhaps years. His hair had grown long and unruly, curling down his back and reaching his legs. His body was covered in permanent marks of bruises and scrapes. His face was exceptionally well-kept, the only reason being his owner cleaning and making sure his pretty human looked nice for his customers. He was called ‘Pretty Eyes,’ the only thing he could remember of himself.

He heard loud bangs and shouts outside. Pretty Eyes cracked open his eyes, the man on top of him grabbing onto his limp body and pressing a knife against his throat as he watched a familiar face burst into the room. The knife pressed deeper into his throat as the patron shouted, and Pretty Eyes found that he didn’t care if he died right then and there. He was so tired. So so tired of keeping up appearances, of the cold, of the roughness, of everything. And so, he closed his eyes and waited.

When he woke up again, he was in some sort of medical wing and found someone sitting next to him with a somewhat familiar face. The man jumped up at the sight of Pretty Eyes and excitedly wrapped his arms around Pretty Eye’s body. He instinctively closed his eyes, mind drifting off to another place as he waited for the man to undress him and take what he wanted. But, it never came, and Pretty Eyes opened his eyes to see the man just staring at him in confusion, asking him things in a language he didn't understand anymore.

The man’s face paled as he kept on talking and at how Pretty Eyes didn’t respond and his voice grew more and more frantic, until he grabbed onto Pretty Eyes’s shoulders. So, it was one of those customers. He just let the man shake him, and when he finished speaking, Pretty Eyes started slipping off the uncomfortable gown he was dressed in. The man looked on in horror and stopped Pretty Eyes from undressing himself and left in a hurry. For some reason, Pretty Eye’s chest hurt as he watched the man leave.

Everyday, new faces came in, talking to him and asking him things in a language he didn’t understand. But, that strange man that he woke up to kept on coming, bringing a woman with him sometimes but most times he was alone. He brought food and gifts and talked and talked. When the man spoke slow sentences in a language that Pretty Eyes could understand, one of the languages that the customers spoke to him, he blinked at the innocent questions in surprise: how his day was, what he ate, how he was feeling.

Pretty Eyes tried to speak, but his words were rusty and hoarse. He hadn’t used his voice to speak in such a long time. He relearned how to speak, how to talk, and the man, Takeda he had introduced himself as, brought Pretty Eyes, or as he learned that his name was Kung Jin, on walks around the area. They were in some sort of monastery, open fields and other humans training against each other. Takeda often brought him to sit underneath a cherry blossom tree and soak in the sunlight or to the shooting range, and it felt familiar and instinctual in Pretty Eyes’s hands as he shot bullseye after bullseye.

One night as he was finally taken out of the medical wing and to a personal bedroom for the night, Takeda stayed with him, just laying in bed with Pretty Eyes and making sure nothing happened. Takeda would sleep in Pretty Eyes’s bed some nights and others he would be gone, but he was there more often than not. Sometimes, Pretty Eyes would dream of an American boy, of dry ramen, of Takeda and his familiar face. Other times, Pretty Eyes would open his eyes and feel paralyzed as he felt the ghostly touches of rough and dirty fingers touching his legs, his hips, his neck.

Takeda always woke up when Pretty Eyes did and talked him through those bouts, telling him about anything and everything, how he and Jacqui were doing, how Cassie was doing until Jin calmed down and could move again. And, one night when neither of them could sleep, they lay down facing each other while Takeda talked and talked while Pretty Eyes nodded along. Then, Takeda raised a hand to cup Pretty Eyes’s…Kung Jin’s face. But, it was warm and comforting, not rough despite the callous and the touch was gentle. Kung Jin let the soldier cup his face.

The nights continued like that, Takeda touching various areas of Kung Jin's face, arms, chest, and backing off when Kung Jin’s breath grew too quick or his eyes glazed over. On one night that felt eons away from his time in Outworld, Takeda was face to face with Kung Jin, noses touching whenever they shifted minutely in the bed. Takeda brought his hand up and asked in a quiet voice if he could kiss the archer. Kung Jin nodded slowly, and Takeda brought his face closer until their lips were just barely away from each other. If Kung Jin moved, he would be pressed right against Takeda. The man asked one more time if Kung Jin was sure and when Jin let out a soft yes, Takeda brought their lips together and kissed him soft and sweet.

Jin’s heart warmed just a bit, and when he pulled away, he realized he could feel tears falling down his face. He laid there and cried as Takeda held him in his arms and soothed him. The man listened to Jin cry all night, years of pain and anguish and suffering emptying out of Jin’s soul and heart. He cried out the pool he was drowning in, the shame he carried with him. When he was done sobbing, Jin just stayed silent besides the mild sniffling, and Takeda just whispered soothing words, just cradling Jin’s head close to his chest.

His heart felt warm that night, and he wanted this feeling forever. He needed this warm and soft feeling, and Takeda gave it freely, loving him and touching him with soft and gentle hands. He never pushed, never prodded, and let Jin work through his feelings until he could deal with the negative thoughts in a healthy way.

Jin would never be the same. He never could, but at least he knew he was loved. And that was nice.

a/n: please call 988 if you're in the US and having suicidal thoughts or (212) 695-8650 to contact the Trevor Hotline for LGBTQ+ youth. if you've been sexually assaulted or raped, please call 1-800-656-4673. you do not have to struggle alone.

i wasn't even sure if i wanted to post this on here because i haven't seen something like this on this site. this feels too mature for tumblr if i'm going to be honest. this was dark. as mentioned, this was a culmination of stress about everything happening in life right now. i'm completely fine, completely safe, do not worry about my well-being.

i've always really liked Jin, something about having to live up to a legacy while having to hide your true self hits a little close to home. thankfully and luckily, i have never been raped or sexually assaulted or even cat-called, and it's been a blessing that it has never happened to me. but, that doesn't negate the trauma of growing up with the fear that it can/will happen to you, especially as i've gotten older. it's a terrifying thought to think that someone you know or a stranger can slip something into your drink so that you're forced to do their bidding. it's also important not to victim blame. in regards to this fic, yes, Jin was using his sexual agency to sleep with men but that never ever excuses rape. the person to blame is the perpetrator. they made an active decision to traumatize someone for their own amusement or pleasure. do NOT blame the victim. i cannot stress this enough or enough times.

in regards to the writing of this fic, i wanted to play around with Jin's identity in regards to his name. i tried to use Kung Jin when he is putting on a farce: cocky and confident, the descendant of the great Kung Lao, bigger and better than everyone. i tried to use Jin when he is expressing his true feelings and let's his heart yearn and love. i used Pretty Eyes as a way to remove his personality because that is often what happens in cases of rape/sexual assault. they dehumanize you down to one trait to try and justify their reasons, which are never valid to reiterate. i wanted to try explore the theme of identity because it's something i've struggled with along with internalized homophobia, and i wanted to try and put it into words. i know that this author's note is lengthy and probably not very eloquently worded, but i want you to know that it is okay to not like this post. this is heavy content and not everybody signed up to read this. i posted fluff for a month and then come right into march with this fic? you do not have to like everything that i upload.

if you've made it this far, i applaud you for trooping along. drink some water, eat a snack you like, talk to your friends. don't bottle up your feeling because that's dangerous. you're allowed to cry and scream and be angry. try that new thing and live vivaciously even if others don't approve. you do not have to conform to society's values because this current society in America is built on racism, patriarchy, arbitrary rules, and hatred. it is okay to be different. it is okay to be cringe.