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casspurrjoybell-27 · 1 year

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Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 6b

*Warning Adult Content*

Desire and Fear - Part 2

- Knox -

He follows Everett's cries to the basement, which is apparently his bedroom.

It looks like something straight off Pinterest.

"You don't know shit," Everett sniffles from his bed.

"I've been extremely careful since I've been back here."

"I know. I'm sorry for assuming otherwise."

Knox kicks off his shoes and slips off his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair before joining Everett on the bed.

"I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you when it's Finn that I'm mad at."

"Right."

"Thing is, it's his job to be your protector when I'm not here. Slacking off, even for a minute, could be fatal for you both. Mistakes were made today, so I really need you to remember that, alright?"

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know."

Everett sits up and Knox leans over to wipe his tears away before he can do it himself.

"I hate crying. It can be so fucking exhausting sometimes."

"Sorry I made you cry."

Knox sinks a hand into Everett's fluffy hair, playfully ruffling his curls before being swatted away.

They share a laugh, then Knox waves a hand around the room.

"This is all you?"

"For now."

Everett's eyes follow Knox when he stands to walk around the room, touching and exploring things he shouldn't touch or explore.

When he stops in front of an old family photo hanging on the wall, Everett slides off the bed to join him.

"That's my biological mom. She was gorgeous, wasn't she?"

"Yeah. You're almost the spitting image of her," Knox says.

The framed photograph is of Everett with his parents at a park.

Little Everett is going down a slide, his mother is waiting for him at the end and his father is standing off to the side frozen mid-clap, admiring his beautiful family.

The priceless moment got captured while they were all smiling.

"You used past tense just now. What happened to her?"

"A few years after this, she got killed during a mugging gone wrong," Everett whispers, still staring at the picture.

He doesn't budge when Knox grabs his hand to hold.

"My dad had to raise me all on his own. Shit was tough for a long while. That type of pain never really fades away but he's done right by me. Didn't freak out or anything when I mustered up the courage in middle school to tell him I was gay."

"That must've been nice," Knox says. "I never got the opportunity to tell my folks. Cancer took my mother away from me before I could get the chance and my father... well, I never liked that bastard. Didn't shed a single tear when he died."

"I'm, uh, going to go out on a limb and assume he wasn't a kind man."

"No, he wasn't. I wish my mother had never met him. To hell if I had never been born."

"Stop. You can't really mean that."

"I do," Knox says.

"Whatever my folks had, it wasn't love. My father was a goddamn monster, evil incarnate and my mother deserved a better man. Unfortunately, he was a master of manipulation, and she was too weak to leave him. She depended on him in every way possible, especially financially, because she wasn't well enough to raise a child on her own. She was stuck in a bad situation that I couldn't get her out of until it was too late. Simple as that."

Everett squeezes Knox's large hand, glancing up at him with a sympathetic smile and big doe eyes that make Knox's stiff heart flutter embarrassingly fast.

"You don't have to tell me but whatever horrible things your father said and did back then, I'm sure the devil is kicking his ass in hell for it all right now."

"I fucking hope so."

Knox couldn't bring himself to speak about his father's sins out loud but he wasn't wrong to call the man a monster.

His father used to beat the shit out of his wife and Knox until, finally, Knox hit puberty and grew to be twice his father's size.

The day his father died from alcohol poisoning was both the happiest and scariest day of Knox's life.

Happy because he didn't have to deal with his father's bullshit anymore, scary because now it was up to Knox to cover all the bills.

Those added up quickly when his mother's health took a rapid decline.

Left with no other choice, no other option but to make fast money to help take care of his mother and keep a roof over their heads, Knox joined The Fallen Angels.

They were well-known in the community and with them, Knox found his true home.

A family that would not only accept him but also embrace his flaws.

His mother wouldn't understand but hopefully, she's proud of him, anyway.

"How long do you plan on staying over?" Everett asks. "Because my dad has met Finn and I'm running out of lies to use, so when he comes back from his date to see a different motorcycle sitting in the driveway... we're screwed."

"When are you expecting him back?"

"Can't say. He's with my stepmother right now. Took me forever to convince him to get out of the house..."

Everett suddenly looks down at their conjoined hands and blushes.

He tries to pull away but Knox's grip is firm.

"This is bordering on inappropriate."

"Inappropriate?"

Knox tugs hard, pulling Everett flush against him.

"I dare you to look me in the eyes and tell me this doesn't feel the opposite."

Everett's breath shudders, his expression jumping back and forth between desire and fear.

He wants Knox.

That much is evident but he's also scared, too damn frightened to admit it to himself.

Too afraid to let down his guard and go after what his body is craving.

Knox isn't afraid.

Far from it.

"Admit it, kitten. This feels right and you know it."

Everett shakes his head despite his hips pushing forward.

"Speak," Knox commands, his voice deep and painfully arousing.

Everett's eyes go half-lidded, his mouth falling open when he's walked back against the wall.

"I'm starting to miss your smart mouth."

"Knox..."

Everett swallows hard.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing right now?"

"Something we both want," Knox smirks, lowering his voice while bunching up Everett's sweater at the sides.

He leans farther down to whisper near his ear.

"I bet you sound just like an angel when you cum."

Everett closes his eyes, clutches Knox's shirt with both hands and then actually moans at the idea of being fucked by the biker.

"Please, stop this..."

"Is that what you really want?" Knox brushes his lips across Everett's warm skin, every atom in his body buzzing as his hands travel up Everett's bare back.

"Let me hear it, kitten. You want me to stop or do you want me to keep going?"

When Knox pulls back to look Everett in the eyes, everything shifts.

He can feel it.

Everett can feel it.

That's why his small hands drop to grip the waistband of Knox's jeans.

Why he licks his tempting lips before whispering sweetly...

"Keep going."

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writethelifeyouwant · 4 years

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Dive Bar Ch. 7/ ?

Pairing: Dean x Sam (eventually, he he he)

Rating: 18+

Prompt/Summary: After a one night stand with a random college chick turns into a threesome that also featured his little brother, Dean- well, frankly, he panics. What’s even worse than gay panicking? Gay incest panicking. Luckily, Sam winds up being a little more cool about the whole thing than Dean ever would have imagined.

WC: 2,276

Tags: gay panic, allusions to brother/brother incest, angst, Dean having graphic naughty thoughts

Beta: @daydream3r-xo - thank you for reading lovely 😘

A/N: To keep things realistic, as this chapter takes place one month on from the previous one, I figured I better make you guys wait that long too! JK, 🙃 I just suck spectacularly. So sorry for the unplanned hiatus, but I’m getting back into the swing of things, and promise the next chapter is already in progress and will be out next week 😊

Chapter 6

One month later

They’re out west working a vengeful spirit case and pretending, pretty effectively Dean thinks, that the events of nearly two months ago now have been forgotten. Sam doesn’t bring it up, he doesn’t bring it up, that should be the end of that. Except it’s not. Inside, Dean’s head is a mass of tangled emotions and twisted thoughts and dark crevices broadcasting a siren’s song - like the allure of hearing a snippet of “Cherry Pie” seeping out into the dusty blackness of a desert parking lot illuminated by the warm neon outlines of poles and women - except the images hidden in those crevices aren’t mostly-naked women with too much makeup and not enough self respect. Hidden in the recesses of Dean’s mind are the images of Sam’s cock thrusting into a tight throat, and an echo of the words, “hey, if you ever need help figuring it out…”

Those words have haunted Dean more thoroughly than any ghost they’ve hunted, than any spectre they’ve burned. And Dean couldn’t manage to burn those words out of his memory.

A knock on his shoulder draws Dean out of himself and back to the present, where the object of his fantasies sits blissfully unaware on the sticky black leather next to him. The desert is hot.

“Are you listening to me man? Thought you said we were gonna pull over for the night, find some A/C?”

“Yeah, of -” Dean cleared his throat, dropping from the embarrassingly high octave his voice had come out in. “Of course, just uh, point me to the next exit I guess. There’s gotta be something coming up.”

“Yeah, it looks like there’s a little resort town coming up just a coupl’a miles from here. If it’s a tourist spot they should at least have functioning air conditioning, maybe even a shower that isn’t broken,” Sam huffed.

“Yeah, sounds good Sammy.”

To Sam’s relief they had a cool room and a clean shower about half an hour later, and he relished in the chance to stretch his legs and rinse off the dust that clung to him from driving with the windows down most of their way there. Towelling off his hair with a rough shake he lobbed the towel onto the bed and grabbed for a fresh t-shirt.

“I’m going to grab some grub. You want to come or you gonna stay and read that nerd book you picked up in the last town?”

“You mean Mythology of the Spirit in the American West?” Sam corrected Dean exasperatedly.

“Yeah, like I said, nerd book. You coming with or not?”

Sam huffed and considered his options. He was looking forward to sitting down with that book, but he’d also been cooped up in the impala for innumerable hours not too long ago, and it would feel good to walk around for a bit, even if his brother was being an ass.

“Yeah, sure. I’m coming.”

Dean picked out the first joint they walked by with bright lights and loud music. This was definitely a tourist town, because even on a weekday this place was packed, but Dean liked the noise and the buzz. It made a welcome change from the monotony of his thoughts broadcasting over a tinny radio all day.

The place didn’t have much in the way of decor beyond the theme of ‘bar’. It was crowded with mostly guys - dressed a little more loudly than Dean would have expected but, hey, they were probably on vacation, cutting a little loose - and the occasional group of girlfriends had tables dotted around as well. It looked like your typical food and drink establishment.

Sam slapped him on the arm and gestured to a free table on the other side of the room. Dean gave him a thumbs up and pointed to the bar, to indicate he’d grab the first round of drinks and hopefully find a menu while he was at it, he was starving.

The bartender gave him a friendly smile when he asked for two draughts and pointed out the menus when Dean asked. Dean grabbed the first beer that was passed over to him and hung around at the bar while he looked through the menu and waited for Sam’s drink. That turned out to be a poor tactical decision, because standing alone at a bar and being as attractive as Dean is a combination that invited attention.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

Dean looked up, startled, into the face of the tanned, polo-shirt-wearing guy that had just spoken to him. He was giving Dean what was supposed to be an open, disarming smile, but which really just looked weirdly nervous.

“Uh, hey,” Dean responded, leaving it open for the newcomer to pick up the conversation, but not really knowing what to say to him.

“Nice night, huh?”

“Um, yeah, sure-”

“Here’s your other drink, man,” the bartender cut across the exchange and dropped the second glass next to Dean’s first.

“Thanks,” Dean grabbed quickly for the second drink and tucked the menu under his arm before grabbing his own. “Uh, nice to meet ‘ya,” he nodded awkwardly to polo-guy and hurried past to get back to Sam, who was playing on his phone at the table, leaving any thought of how weird that was back at the bar with the now deflated looking tourist.

An hour later, suitably fed and two beers down, Sam suggested a game of pool.

“You know I’m always up for beating your ass, Sammy.”

Dean grinned and racked up the strangely coloured billiard balls in a bright pink frame. He’d never seen rainbow-coloured pool before but, whatever, people were weird. He gave Sam the break, and tried very hard to look anywhere but his baby brother’s ass as he bent stoically over the felt top and crashed the cue into the white ball, grinning smugly when he straightened up and rounded the table to pound a brightly striped ball into a corner pocket. Dean breathed a sigh of relief that he no longer had to avoid looking at Sam with his perv-o-vision on, but realised too late that the front-on view of Sam wasn’t any less enticing.

The way his chestnut bangs curled over his brow and caught on his insanely long eyelashes - seriously was he wearing mascara or something? Dean yanked himself from his thoughts, only to be confronted with Sam’s eyes glancing up at him from behind those lashes and curls, like he wanted to check Dean was watching him while he took his shot. He holed another ball, and the clack and thunk of ball against porcelain and then wood shuddered through Dean and settled in his bones. The cocky smirk on Sam’s face took it one step further, and sent a shock of arousal through his chest and down.

“I’m gonna go get us some refills,” Dean grunted and motioned to their mostly empty glasses. Sam shrugged and eyed his next shot, smirking to himself, under the assumption that Dean was bailing because he didn’t want to watch Sam slaughter him right out of the gate. He was partially right. At the rate he was going, Dean was going to be on the floor soon; and it had nothing to do with the pool or the alcohol, and everything to do with the thoughts Sam was stirring inside him.

Up at the bar, Dean called for two more beers, and a double shot of something strong. The amber liquid was dropped in front of him quickly while the bartender waited for the taps to clear. Dean took a healthy gulp and let the burn in his throat ground him, reminding him of what he could control in this world. And maybe he couldn’t control his thoughts about Sammy, but he could control how mind-numbingly drunk he got to forget them. Taking the second and last gulp of the liquor, he nearly choked when he felt a tap on his shoulder. And he knew it wasn’t Sam, because he was watching Sam still bent over the pool table from across the room.

“You drank that pretty damn quick,” the stranger chuckled deeply. “Good stuff?”

“Strong stuff,” Dean grunted, and flagged the bartender for another, which was quickly poured out for him.

“I know something else pretty strong that would feel good sliding down your throat.” This time Dean did choke on his liquor, prompting the stranger to thump him on the back, which Dean flinched away from violently. “Sorry hombre, didn’t mean to scare you like that,” the stranger had the decency to look slightly abashed, “it’s just… you got the best damn blowjob lips I’ve ever seen.” Dean almost swallowed wrong again.

“I, uh…” Dean cleared his throat, grasping at straws for words that made any sense, and tried again. “That’s, um, that’s very flattering of you but I’m not… uh, ‘on your team’ amigo, sorry.” In a bid to hide his awkwardness, Dean went to down the rest of his drink. It stung on the way down, where the flesh of his throat was raw from choking.

“Oh, sorry man, I thought uh- with your friend over there you two must be… well, among friends here.” He gestured vaguely around the room and Dean followed his motion, paying closer attention now than he had all night. And that’s when he noticed that a lot of the guys were sitting just a little closer than friends do, the groups of girlfriends dotted around all had pairs amongst them… His eyes darted back to Sam and the rainbow coloured billiard balls he hadn’t thought too hard about before.

Dean’s stare hardened when he noticed that Sam, who had pocketed all his balls, effectively finishing the game while Dean was at the bar (and Dean did not let his heart strings tug proudly at that), was leaning casually against the side of the table, arms resting on his pool cue in a way that made him look carelessly sexy, eyes raking over a guy slightly shorter than him with spiky hair and a tight henley. His brain echoed with the sounds of shattering glass as he turned, wide-eyed, back to the incredibly forward man who had been hitting on him.

“This is a gay bar?” Dean hoped he didn’t sound offensive, he was just confused.

“Wow,” the stranger laughed, tucking a hand into his pocket, “you really are straight aren’t you?”

He shook his head bemusedly and slapped a bill on the counter, gesturing for two of what Dean had just been downing. When they arrived, he clicked his drink against the glass he pushed in front of Dean. “Hope you forget whoever it is you’re drinking to forget about, and if you want some help with that, I don’t mind working with beginners.” The stranger left with a wink and made his way back to his group of buddies across the room, laughing off their sympathies at his strike out.

Dean was left at the bar, puzzled, embarrassed, but vaguely flattered. Except then he remembered Sam was talking to someone, some jag-off who didn’t know how to buy clothes that fit him properly, and a feeling he wasn’t sure how to name writhed and burned in his chest. Eyeing his little brother over the drink he’d just been bought, Dean tried to do a little introspection for once. If he didn’t have a name for what he was feeling, then it was probably something new, right? It wasn’t his protective instincts kicking in, Sam could take this guy easily; could probably split him in half, Dean thought to himself ruefully. But then that thought conjured up an image Dean wasn’t mentally prepared for.

Like he was watching it through the flickering of a candle, shadows jumping across the figures he was trying to focus on, Dean saw Sam grab the man’s hair and slam him over the pool table with his arm twisted behind his back, saw Sam pull down his too-skinny jeans and bury his face between the guy’s ass cheeks, saw Sam naked, slamming into him, splitting him in half, the muscles in his back flexing and glistening with sweat in the weird half light Dean was watching through.

In a blink, Sam and his boy-toy had disappeared. Not just from Dean’s lecherous imaginings but also from Dean’s actual view. Panicked, he searched for Sam in the crowd, breath easing when he saw him further down the bar ordering drinks, but every muscle in his body clenched when he saw Sam’s hand land on his companion’s shoulder and squeeze.

What the hell did Sam think he was doing? Picking some random guy up in a bar? That wasn’t like him at all, that was Dean’s thing. Except, when was the last time he’d gone home with someone? A few weeks? A month? With a gut-wrenching feeling, Dean realised that he hadn’t taken anyone home with him since Dani and Sam. So maybe picking people up in bars wasn’t his thing, if he hadn’t done it in so long. Maybe now it was Sam’s thing.

But then what’s my thing?

Dean scrambled in his head for a new identity, a new label. Something like ‘big brother’ that he could use to define himself, ground himself in the haze of confusion he felt himself slipping away in. Hunter? High-school dropout? Badass? Border-line alcoholic? He looked up from his empty glass and cast around his surroundings, frustrated and dazed and searching for an answer - and he locked eyes with Sam.

You’re the guy who’s hopelessly in love with his little brother.

Fuck.

***

Tags: @hawkerz12 @negans-lucille-tblr @dylansbabygirl24 @mineshinamary @popsensationnicole23 @spn-problems @donthateme454 @doyouknowsamw @peridottea91 @delightfulbakeryaliendeputy @fictionallemons @petitgateau911 @natastic @marvelfansworld @delightfullykrispypeach @half-closeted-bi-girl @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @crashlyrose @kiss-my-peachy-arse @tftumblin @j-ai-adore-dean @deandreamernp @miufel @alice101macwil @caitlinvd @disneysloot @itsthedoctah10 @devilsbby @leftlokiofpuppy @jackandthesoulmates

#dive bar #wincest #spnkinkbingo #gay panic #bi!sam #dean has gay thoughts #sexy times

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tswiftisgay · 4 years

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hello! so there a lot of haylor shippers that are going around saying that exile, cardigan, the 1, illicit affairs, and a bunch of other songs on folklore are about harry styles. they're also saying that songs on fine line are about taylor. what do you think?

hello! 🤗

1) There is not one ounce of me that believes that Taylor and Harry really dated. To be clear, I do believe Harry has dated women he has been out and about with. I even think Taylor has probably dated some of the men she has been publicly paired with! So this isn’t based on a broad assumption of sexuality. This is based entirely in the facts and circumstances of that fateful time. They overplayed the whole thing with pap shots literally every single day for nearly two months. Harry never looked happy to be around her, and he never confirmed they were dating properly! Plus, the timing with the release of the Taylor and 1D albums was just too perfect. They helped each other solidify audiences across the oceans and dispel (what I obviously believe to be incredibly true) gay rumors. My haylor timeline spells a lot of that out.

2) I do not believe either of them wrote songs about each other for their most recent albums. Even if they did date, they dated so damn long ago and for such a short time! Their schedules have been incredibly incompatible in the time since then so any wild haylor conspiracies just don’t make sense logistically. (One of my friends actually mapped their schedules out so I really mean that.)) Plus they have been tied to a lot of other people with a lot better evidence.

The last nail in the coffin is that Taylor really hurt Harry’s reputation for a while with her accusations of being a womanizer, unfaithful, etc. and Harry upset her reputation when he started making his incredibly unsubtle gay comments. I do *not* see why they would have willingly done this to each other if they were secretly together.

In case you forgot, Taylor changed her entire promotional approach to 1989 which had been shaped around Harry with pointed jokes about the inspiration for Style and a huge Rolling Stone article with “insider” and “spokesperson” *cough* TREE *cough* information about their relationship. On October 30 2014, Harry and Liam were asked to describe their perfect person to date. Liam jokingly said “female,” to which Harry said, “not that important.” He also said “don’t knock it till you try it” about having sex with a man and made a variety of other gay/dick comments. To this day I can’t understand why people still think that man is straight! Regardless, Taylor stopped pushing the Harry narrative so hard and began using more generic descriptions about her inspiration for Style after that--even as soon as the next day in an interview with Ryan Seacrest! Check out this fun little analysis from @all-my-possessions here for more.** Read the prior Rolling Stones cover article here for comparison.

3) Taylor and Harry have previously written about each other, but not in the lovesick way the media would have you think. The song Perfect by 1D--written by Harry and Louis--has references to Taylor. Out of the Woods is about bearding with Harry in my opinion, which I elaborate on here. I’ve also answered an ask in the past where I shared my opinion that Taylor may take inspiration from Harry’s life since they share a lot of the same burdens, having grown up in the industry and closeted.

4) This is more controversial, but I think that Harry Styles may be William Bowery. This would account for some of the connections or coincidences found on folklore in a way that is much more believable to me. I believe Taylor and Harry have mended bridges a bit over the years and connected over their shared stories of navigating secret relationships while under the magnifying glass of fame. Writing together and speaking at some length may have been part of the inspiration for the songs. In the same way that a movie with similar themes to a story in your own life can be extremely evocative, Harry’s stories may have been a big source of inspiration.

When asked about Taylor, Harry has repeatedly said she is a great songwriter which is a good response because it’s true and because it sidesteps any drama. To my knowledge, no one has ever been bold enough to ask Taylor the same question. If they did, she might say the same thing. Keeping his name out of the credits makes sense because their long media history would have brought the wrong kind of attention to the artistic masterpiece of folklore. I expand on this a bit more here.

5) I need to acknowledge-- and ask that you also acknowledge--that there are only small coincidences linking Harry to Taylor’s album at all. Even the imagery of the cardigan music video being linked to the Falling music video is a bit tenuous. Music as a lifeline or way of communicating is a common image, as is water as a way of depicting overwhelming emotions. Yes, “thin line” in Exile mirrors Harry’s “fine line,” but those are incredibly common phrases. Our intuition as fans can be amazingly accurate or embarrassingly off. So let’s keep that in mind with any theories. For our sanity’s sake!

**Read more about the changing narratives of the songs on 1989 as told by Taylor herself in this lengthy but amazing analysis also from @all-my-possessions 😍 here.

Your message has been sitting in my inbox for a bit. I’m sorry I didn’t reply sooner. The world is on fire and so is my will to live. JK I’m okay. Not great. But okay. Hope you are okay, too <3

#ts8 #haylor #style #william bowery #harry styles #mine

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bisluthq · 4 years

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Can I ask a genuine questions? (I'm kinda dumb and this lives rent free in my mind) how did ttb get to doxx people? Like how did she find their information? She doesn't sound like a hacker and I have seen people get doxxed many times and yet I still do not understand how that works. Sorry if this isn't the place to ask this.

So I have my name on my Discord because I’ve used it for work before as a voice chat thing and I talked to one of her minions once. Like I tried to genuinely engage lol. (It was about Josh being gay and being with Mikey 💀) so they had my name and then they found my Twitter and a mention of TTB being antisemitic there lol because it’s just my name and then they found my work email because that’s also publicly available if you have the above info.

It’s like... this was publicly available but what did she hope to achieve? Get me fired? Because I’m mean? Like that’s not very nice at all.

With other people it was things like their Tumblrs and Instas being linked or reverse image searching personal pics they’d posted.

They do have hackers on the ~team tho because a few years back they hacked the Alwyn family Gmails and like @debunkingtaytaysbeard did get hacked but not doxxed because she didn’t have personal info in messages I don’t think.

Anyway it was mostly sleuthing with a touch of hacking and it was VERY DERANGED of her. Again, it’s not like that nb for me tho obvi it has been a bit embarrassing to have to tell everyone but she legit put other people in awkward situations at best and placed them in danger at worst.

And for what? Because people were mean about her on the internet? Like not even TO her genuinely just about her (and with good reason but that’s a sidebar). That’s such embarrassingly small dick energy. Like Caro Calloway has more BDE than TTB. Carp lacks self-awareness for sure and she’s delusional af but she... somehow manages to have more BDE than TTB.

If TTB responded to me with like a Caro style 10K word rant on her POV that would’ve been psycho but like... kinda boss?

Doxxing people and - this is the worst part - self-dragging while you do it so I have to like APOLOGIZE FOR MY DOXXING TO MY BOSS BECAUSE IT IS SO EMBARRASSING FOR BOTH TTB AND ME is like the least boss move I can think of.

Micropenis energy tbh.

#nat talks voldemort

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pawprintsmoon · 4 years

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Henry Knew; the cake-tastrophy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28968006/chapters/71273694

Part II

Prince Henry of Wales was experienced with skillfully navigating the world of international cooperation. Alex, however, kept refusing to cooperate. His eyes continued to burn whenever he looked at the prince and though he pretended they burned with loathing, Henry knew better. Yes, the first son was closeted, but Henry’s gaydar was well honed after years of being in the closet himself.

So when Alex mocked his accent, Henry saw through it. He wondered if Alex had a thing for all English accents, or just his posh one. He didn’t take the bait though, because he couldn’t risk Alex knowing that the attraction was returned.

When Alex threatened to push him into the Thames, Henry saw through that too. He reckoned the First Son just wanted to see him soaking wet, clothing clinging to skin. He remained determinately polite, careful not to give Alex any encouragement.

Again and again they would meet and Alex would approach him and pretend to hate him while Henry would act civil and disengaged. Alex was never as forward as he had been at the Olympics, but Henry knew that the American still wanted him. He just knew. He was sure that Alex’s interest was purely sexual and not at all romantic, but it still took everything not to succumb and just let Alex seduce him. But, as Henry was practiced in the arts of suppressing emotions, he could hold strong. Well, just so long as Alex pretended to hate him.

But when Alex approached him at the Royal Wedding, Henry’s resolve faltered. The prince had been sulking about how someday soon he would be forced to have a wedding just like this one. When Alex interrupted his thoughts by talking about champagne fountains, it was a welcome distraction. As usual, the first son was horribly rude and hopelessly obvious. The way he leant his elbow on Henry’s shoulder; clearly an excuse to be near to him. Over the years Henry noticed that Alex had a habit of invading his personal space.

“Do you ever get tired of pretending,” Alex said. Henry almost nodded before Alex finished his sentence. “you’re above all this?”

Henry hated the assumptions that Alex was making, but he let him continue, if only because he liked the way his voice sounded like worn leather and citrus. He imagined that Alex’s lips might taste like desert sunsets and champagne. When Alex removed his elbow from the prince’s shoulder, he yearned for Alex’s scent to linger in the air around him. He didn’t often get a chance to drink up the beauty of this boy in person, and as long as Alex was talking, Henry had a perfectly valid excuse for looking at him. Also, Alex seemed to think that Henry hated him, which was achingly incorrect.

“...doesn’t that get exhausting?”

“I’m…” Henry stopped. He had been about to say ‘I’m exhausted’ before remembering that he couldn’t be vulnerable to the ticking time bomb that was Alex Claremont-Diaz. “... a bit more complicated than that.”

Alex was drunk, but he was cute. He was obnoxious too, but that had never quelled Henry’s crush in the past.

“Sorry I’m not obsessed with you like everyone else,” said Alex. “I know that must be confusing for you.”

“Do you know what?” Henry replied. “I think you are.”

He hadn’t meant to say that, but he smirked as Alex’s jaw fell open, his eyes widening with surprise. It was an uncharacteristically rash thing to say, but Alex’s blatant denial of his obvious attraction was begging for a contradiction. Despite Henry’s resolution to never confront Alex about his feigned disinterest, in this moment he was tired and it just came out. He was exhausted from dancing with girls, hiding the truth from the media, and parading around a ridiculously ostentatious wedding, all in order to maintain his royal image. In this moment he craved honesty.

“Only a thought,” Henry continued. “Have you ever noticed that I have never once approached you and have been exhaustively civil every time we’ve spoken? Yet here you are, seeking me out again.”

As Alex began to stammer denial, the prince felt exposed. Though he kept his emotions carefully concealed, his heart was racing. He never should have said that. What if Alex openly admitted that he was attracted to him? He wouldn’t be able to resist. Or, much worse, what if Alex disproved his theory and he had been wrong about their mutual attraction all along?

But Alex didn’t confirm or deny anything. Henry’s brain was speeding at a million questions per second. At the beginning of their conversation, Alex had revealed that he didn’t understand why Henry had danced with June. How could Alex not empathize with the need to convince the public of his heterosexuality? This was a shared experience, was it not?

But… perhaps Alex hadn’t noticed that the prince was gay? Henry knew from embarrassingly extensive research that the first son was smart, but yet Alex hadn’t guessed that the dance with June had been a ruse. Sure, Henry tried to hide his sexuality, but the obviously queer boy that had been hitting on him for years had to have guessed the prince’s orientation. Right?

Because, if Alex didn’t know that Henry was gay, why would Alex hold onto any interest in him? Although, come to think of it, why was Alex so antagonistic all the time anyways? It was almost as if he was in denial, as if he couldn’t admit their chemistry to himself.

Overwhelmed and highly aware of the crowd around them, Henry turned to leave.

“Have a lovely evening, Alex.”

Next thing, Alex was grabbing his shoulder, stumbling backwards, and knocking a $75,000 cake onto the floor. As the cake smashed to sludge, Henry’s quick mind drew three correct conclusions:

One: Alex had no idea that Henry was gay. Two: Alex had no idea that he himself was attracted to men. Three: Alex was completely and utterly oblivious about his infatuation with the Prince Henry of Wales.

#the dialogue is casey's #alex claremont diaz #henry prince of wales #first prince #fanftiction #red white and royal blue #Henry Knew #the royal wedding #casey mcquiston #pawprints.on.the.moon #ao3

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jengajives · 4 years

Text

give me money

Sparky knew he wasn’t incredibly smart. He didn’t really pretend to be. When he dropped out of high school junior year, it had been a disappointment but not a great surprise to his parents, who’d conjured up reason after reason to get him out after that. That’s why Sparky was all alone and trying to make his own way at seventeen with no skills and no diploma. But, dumb as Sparky was, he did know one thing. Knew it as well as the workings of his own body. Engines. Sparky knew the language of engines. Now, when it came to driving, he was a complete joke, with laughably slow reflexes and a frame far too tall to fit into a T-180 without folding up all funny. But he knew a track and he knew what makes cars tick and that’s all that really mattered in that often confused head of his. When the Racer family took in this scruffy, ridiculous kid off the streets and pretty much accepted him as their own, Sparky learned another thing he was good at- and that thing being the unbreakable, stubborn attraction to guys that were way, way out of his league. Rex Racer became the principal embodiment of that funny little skill. He was twenty-one, two years Sparky’s senior by the time he came to work for the Racers, and the kind of man who made stunning good looks seem simultaneously effortless and impossibly difficult to achieve. With those casually curated muscles and the chiseled, yet somehow boyish features that constantly looked somewhat pissed, it was impossible to deny he was absolutely gorgeous. When Rex spoke, it was always with the calmest surety- as it every word that escaped him had been thoroughly and completely vetted beforehand. And his driving. He was so young and already getting records and Sparky had never seen anything like it. The added clientele boost from Rex’s electrifying driving was the only reason Racer Motors had been able to hire Sparky in the first place and he wasn’t likely to forget it. Mr. Racer was a man whose trust came at a high price, but who’d never break that bond once it formed. It had taken him a while to completely let his guard down around Sparky- and that was thanks mostly to Mrs. Racer, whose stubborn compassion never seemed to run out. Personally, Sparky thought Rex was more like his father, just a little bit more obvious in his trust or lack thereof. Speed, on the other hand, was his Mom’s spitting image. Sparky liked Speed. The kid reminded him of himself- they were both oddballs with a one track mind and a passion for racing. Someday Speed was going to be a driver and he was going to be great, that much Sparky knew. Rex was a bit of an oddball, too, just... in a different way. He’d had friends in high school- been quite popular, to Sparky’s understanding- but he’d always been... quiet. Not entirely present. Sparky saw it now too- Rex, constantly, had big plans brewing in his mind. He didn’t just want to float through life having fun. He wanted to change things. Having friends must have been easy when you looked like Rex and not an overly lanky, stubbled kid who wore bright orange and had a weird accent and was clearly gay, though. Sparky didn’t think Rex was gay. Not that he had anything to judge it off of, it just seemed like... Rex was too far out of his league to be into guys. That was most of the reason for it. Anyway, at the Racers’, Sparky could fix things. He could rewire transmissions and weld auto bodies and pluck at gear ratios for hours until he was covered with grease and completely unaware of what time it was, and then he could go in and Mrs. Racer would have left a sandwich out for him when he finished up. For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel incompetent. It was a really jarring environment, even if he did love it. Sparky was fixing up the Mach Four that night- just fixing some cosmetic issues and replacing some wiring. Rex had won another big race at Thunderhead- track record- and the family had been up late celebrating. But Sparky snuck out of the party at some point because he still didn’t quite mesh in with the family, and because he was feeling fidgety and he needed to do something with his hands. But only when Rex came walking slowly into the garage did Sparky realize he was a) covered in oil and, b) up embarrassingly late doing work no one had asked him to do. Rex paused in the doorway once he noticed Sparky leaning over the engine, and he quickly cleared his throat. “Hey... What are you doing up? Thought you went to bed hours ago.” “Guess I couldn’t sleep,” Sparky replied, and the lameness of it hurt his brain so he went back to fishing around in the car’s guts. “Thought I’d get her tuned up a little- you wore her out today.” He paused, thought over how weird that sounded, then added, “Beautiful race.” Rex chuckled. He had a really nice laugh and it was bothersome. “You told me that earlier, Sparky, but thanks.” Sparky noticed he was wearing his grey tank top, the one all covered with grease stains and used for working in the garage and not much else, and he had to try not to stare or blush when he really really wanted to. “Looks like we’re a pair of insomniacs. Mind if I join you?” “No problem!” Sparky said, put at ease somewhat by the thought of just working side by side and nothing more demanding than that. He motioned to the open engine. “Here. The converter needs to be adjusted a bit-“ He paused, looking over at Rex. He was standing by the car now, close by, but he looked unfocused and he still had his hands in his pockets. So... preoccupied. That busy mind of his somewhere else completely. “Something wrong?” Sparky asked. His voice seemed to snap Rex out of his reverie, at least for a moment. His hazel eyes focused again, but they looked alarmingly sad. It wasn’t something Sparky was really ready for. “Sparky,” Rex said slowly. “If you had to choose between a hard thing that might make a difference or an easy thing that lets you stay with the people you love, what would you pick?” Sparky took a long pause. “Well... Why do you ask? Are you thinking about signing with someone, cuz I’m sure Pops would understand-“ “No,” Rex said, quickly shaking his head. “Sorry. Forget it. You said the converter needs work?” Without looking up, he reaching down into the engine and started realigning gear and wires- all a clear sign for Sparky not to talk any more, so he didn’t. There were probably fifteen minutes of silence as the two of them worked before Rex finally spoke again, softer this time. “You’re going to do great things for this family, Sparky, you know that?” Sparky paused and took a swallow. “Rex... Is everything okay?” “Someday people might say things about me. They might try to hurt my mom, and my dad. My brother.” Rex looked up, at last, and Sparky was shocked to see emotion in his eyes. “I need you to look out for them, Sparky. I... trust you to do that for me.” He met Sparky’s bewildered gaze and an almost pale-looking blush settled on his handsome cheeks. “I’m going to miss you. I wish you could... No. Just take care of them, okay?” He put a hand on Sparky’s shoulder and the world did a pirouette when Rex leaned over and placed a nervous kiss on the very corner of his mouth. And Sparky stood there in shock as Rex walked away, and he was left standing there for far too long because Rex didn’t come back. He never would come back.

#speed racer #speed #rex racer #sparky #spex #has anyone else even seen this movie #im only posting these on a dare pay me #dumbies #jenga makes junk #awful movie but i love it #fic #writers

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bmlycr-blog · 5 years

Text

Superman & Superboy

I noticed it just a second too late. It must have been a microscopic speck. But I could feel it. Kryptonite.

I was having breakfast with my brand new sidekick, Gad. He sought me out after a battle one day and begged to join me. I refused and flew away. I don’t take sidekicks anymore. But battle after battle, he kept showing up and asking. He was insistent, and I liked that. But one look tells you he is not fighting material. He bleached and dyed his hair in chunks of red, blue, and gold, and he’s got a few nose and eyebrow piercings that tell me he doesn’t take things seriously. He’s got some lean muscle— maybe he swims or runs— but he lacks strength. I ask him what his specialty is— karate, wrestling, MMA? “Mechanical engineering!” he proudly replies. I stare at this college punk in disbelief. How will he ever fight crime with equations? “...and also Tai Chi!” What!? You mean the slow walking thing for old people? I roll my eyes and start to fly away when I realize his engineering skills could be useful at home. “Can you fix complex machinery?” His eyes beamed as reassured me of his excellent skills and years of experience with advanced machines, modern robots, “anything on the cutting edge of modern technology.” “Well, that sounds great! I think you would be the perfect person to take a look at my broken coffee machine.” He made a feeble attempt at suppressing an eyeroll, graciously thanked me, and came over the next day.

Over the weeks he actually proved useful, not just fixing, but also improving my equipment. Not that I needed any of it for battle, but I have to spy on my enemies somehow. One day, after a battle, I returned home and looked for Gad. I searched around and was startled by a voice behind me: “Hey Superman...” I turned around and saw... me... or was it me? I recognized the tight blue lycra suit, which clings tightly around my body, snuggling every muscle. Even today, I can still feel how with even subtle movements of my body, or while fighting, the lycra rubs and groans against my skin. Or how the lycra compresses my body to be tight and firm in Earth’s pathetically weak gravity. But I saw something else... something I hadn’t seen in a long time... those bright red briefs.

I used to wear them long ago. They looked great with my red boots and cape. Those briefs were the focal point of the image of masculinity and strength I projected. They sculpted my meaty manhood into a smooth, plump bulge, on display for all to see. They showed the world that yes, I am a SuperMAN. And unlike Earth men, my balls were not a point of weakness. Many villains tried to bust me. But I am the Man of Steel, they are too weak to hurt me. I am clearly more of a man than they are. But over the years, Earth’s conservative culture began to chip away. I could tell my humble parents quietly didn’t approve. Others would often bring up my red briefs in conversation, making things awkward. And I noticed that other superheroes worked to hide their bulges. Eventually I caved and decided to drop the red briefs. That was years ago. I had almost forgotten about them. But now, here they were... in front of me. Oh, they looked so great, even better than my memory. How they restrain my package by squeezing my balls just right. I remember the intense feeling of running my fingers over my briefs, how the texture of the tight and shiny fabric transmitted my fingertips to my scrotum. Yes, I remember these feelings, as I am looking at this bright red, plump bulge in front of me, and just as I—

“Superman! Um... Helloooo...?” Huh? It’s... it’s Gad? “I see you like my outfit”, he said with a cheeky smirk. “S-sorry, Gad, I—“ “No. My name is not Gad anymore. I am now Superboy, your sidekick.” Wait— What!? My sidekick!? He’s weak! He doesn’t have superpowers. How can I take him to battle? He would be destroyed. I’d have to rescue him every time. No way I could ever rely on this scrappy punk. He still hasn’t even gotten around to fixing the coffee machine! “Better you stay at home and do what you do best.” He looked at me with utter heartbreak.

So the following weeks were pretty much the same, except that Superboy went about his tasks in his super suit with bright red briefs. Fine by me. Every time I saw him come around, I found myself glancing at his jewels. And, embarrassingly, I only later realized I got semi hard when looking at Superboy’s package. Now I need to be clear. I am not gay. Many men have thrust themselves upon me, and I have never felt attraction for them. But Superboy is different, perhaps because he somehow is a version of me. A scrawny, nerdy, rainbow-headed hipster version of me, but it is me nonetheless. But I must admit, he is well endowed! His cock is about average length, but has proper girth. His balls are that of a champion. His manhood fills the briefs to the brim, leaving a somewhat floppy basket that tastefully balances smoothness and detail. Meanwhile for me, I always felt Earth tailors had difficulty with my generous manhood. My bulges always felt a little bit too restrained in comparison. That makes for a tight and super smooth bulge, and this has its appeal, especially in movies for prude Earthlings. But I can see that Superboy enjoys more freedom in his fabric, which shows off more details of his manhood. I admire the audacity he has to showcase his finely clad bulge.

I asked him over breakfast about his choice to bring back the red briefs. His face lit up as he told me how, years ago, he saw me in an old movie wearing those red briefs. He wondered why I chose them, so he searched around online for men’s fashion on Krypton. That was not easy. After exhaustively looking through increasingly distant planets, he found a long-lost archive of images of men’s fashion from Krypton. He pulled out his phone and showed me images of all kinds of Kryptonian men. They all wore spandex suits. And they all showed off their bulges! “There was a sophisticated culture around showing off that you were a man. Look, here was the prime minister!” This was a man much stronger than me. And his enormous sky blue bulge prominently protruded from an elegant outfit of lycra and other fabrics. Just as I start to think about how I’ve been suppressing my Kryptonian, bulge-displaying heritage all these years, I realized that with the spoonful of cereal I just ate I swallowed a speck of Kryptonite.

Ok. Panic. Wait. Breathe. Ok. First, it’s not enough to kill me. All right. But how much is it? I could barely sense it at first, but now it’s inside me. This isn’t good. I feel dizzy. “We are in trouble.” I murmur. As a I start to slip away, henchmen break through the windows and kidnap us.

I awake to find myself in an arena. Again. I see my sidekick tied to a frame with his arms and legs spread out, exposing his vulnerable bulge. Again. And surprise, who else is standing next to him, again, but Lex Luther. This time he is wearing an all-white spandex body suit that has no chance of concealing his hard-on. Lex has been the reason why I don’t have sidekicks. The moment he finds out, he has us abducted, and devises some sadistic game of torture that ends up destroying my sidekick’s balls. I remember my first sidekick, Blue Lightning, who got his balls zapped and smashed with Thor’s hammer. Or The Crusher— he was a very strong human, I had high hopes for him— but Lex used a mortar and pestle to pound and grind his balls to a pathetic pulp. Or poor Sky Sailor, who could actually fly (sorta), but was no match for Lex’s steel boots. I remember kicks #47 and #51, which were each punctuated by a distinct popping sound and the extraordinarily agonized wail of a man who was losing his manhood. I never met any of my former sidekicks after they suffered their emasculating hazing ritual with Lex. I imagine they are ruined. Human men are so weak.

I look at Superboy futilely struggling to escape his restraints. This time is different. Lex doesn’t have some random sidekick wannabe up there. That’s me up there! He is going to attack me! He is going to hurt my long-lost red bulge. I can’t let him get away with this. I rush at him and find myself knocked back by a shield. “Oh ho ho, Superman.” You know attacking me is against the rules of our game. Penalty: ten hits.” A tennis ball cannon emerges from the ground underneath Superboy. Its barrel is pointed straight at Superboy’s package. “BOOM—GAAAAAAAHHH!... BOOM—RRRGGGHHHHHHH!... BOOM—AAAAAOOOOOUUUGGGGHHHHH!...” Every muscle in his face and body are working hard against his restraints. But despite all his struggling, his bright red target remains in the crossfire. Watching Superboy suffer like this makes me feel sympathy for the first time for an Earth man’s suffering. I wonder what the pain must feel like... pain in the very part of a man’s body that is supposed to define strength.

“Ok Superman. Be prepared to fight my army of robots.” I roll my eyes. Villains try robots from time to time. They might work against other superheroes, but I always crush them like a soda can. “And remember, for every robot you destroy, I will launch 20 tennis balls at your pathetic doppelgänger.” As the robots emerge, I realize there is no way Superboy is going to withstand hundreds of tennis balls. I take one last look at him. At his tense body and and flinching face. At his beautiful bright red bulge. This is goodbye, Superboy. I face the robots and start walking toward them, surveying the different ones. And then it hits me.

I remember Krypton. I remember it now clearly even though I was a baby. The planet was going unstable and about to explode. Before my parents placed me in the rocket, all around us men were screaming, holding their balls. My father— oh, my own father!— wearing a black bodysuit with a bright red stripe running down the center and accentuating his bulge. The look on his face... agony and strength... Why were his balls and everyone else‘s balls in pain? Did it have to do with the planet? Were Krypton’s men connected to the health of their planet? That connection. That pain. I am starting to feel it. Wait, I am? My balls? They are hurting? How?

I snap out of it. Yes, it hit me. An impact. A comet strike? My balls? Ohgod no no my balls they hurt. Wait is that really pain? ow... owowOWOWOWOWOW I’m not supposed to feel that much pain down there! That’s my manhood! They can’t! They—OOOOOOWWWWWWWW!! My balls squish, squirm, and squeeze around my suit, while wobbling, vibrating, and aching. The crushing pain of the impact gives way to waves of aches that wash across my body and focus on my strained abdomen. My ears are ringing, the outside world is tuned out, all I know is this pain. I observe myself slowly collapsing on the ground. I clutch my tender crotch and massage it with a whimper. I now understand the warm relief a hand can lend. I now understand the weakness that comes with the strength of men. I now understand ballpain.

“....aaahahahahaahaaa.... Oh this is even better. I finally got you, Superballs! After... decades? These robots are powered by neopyrrhium, an element that existed on Krypton and is extremely hard to find. That robot used neopyrrhium to crash a steel ball into the Man of Steel faster than the speed of light. You could have never noticed! Oh yes, my robots are stronger and faster than you. And finally I will crush you and your pathetic balls.”

With a burning ache in my groin, and my sore abs, I grit my teeth and jump into the air. I’m Superman. I’m not going to let Lex get away with this. But in an instant I get lassoed by a cowboy robot and he yanks me back to the ground. My arms are tied up, and I thrash my legs about. The robot, wearing steel toed cowboy boots, grabs my ankles and gaspedals me. I squirm and groan. I can’t grab my balls for relief. He stops, and then produces a jackhammer, which he mashes into my crotch and turns on full blast. Each pound of the jackhammer digs into my tender orbs, causing a sharp, stabbing pain that makes me afraid that my balls will be split in half.

But I eventually use my heat vision to break my arms free and yank the robot’s legs out causing it to fall. I quickly zoom away, but I find myself tangled yet again. This time it‘s some octopus robot. My arms and legs are completely ensnared. Then another tentacle slurps onto my bulge, and begins sucking and vibrating! Ohhhhh I have never felt anything like this before, it actually feels good, especially after the busts I suffered. More at ease, I think of Superboy, and his bright red bulge. Superboy. Oh right, Superboy! I can’t stay here like this, I need to save him! I try to struggle to break free. I work hard to pull my bulge out of the tentacle. Every time I pull away, my balls groan at the extra suction caused. The harder I try the more they ache. Eventually I free my balls with a “plop!” and slip my limbs out of the tentacles. I zoom away as fast possible.

I check my package. Huh, my balls are easily 2-3x the size. And a quick flick test told me they are a lot more than just 2-3x more sensitive. And my cock was swollen and pointing straight up, exposing my balls further. This is bad. Have I met my match? I can’t think about this, because a group of five karate robots rushes toward me. I surprise them by zooming to the one that is straying further away from the pack. I use all my strength to take it out, and it cracks and hisses as it flails uselessly about before collapsing. “Good job, Superman. Finally, one robot down.” And then “BOOM—AAUUUGGGHHHHHHH!” I turn briefly to see Superboy screaming and squirming, but I can’t lose focus. One hit from these robots and I am down. I start attacking the rest, but I can only really keep up with them. It takes a lot of awareness to keep track of these four robots surrounding and attacking me. But I constantly lose focus due to the throbbing pain in my tender balls, and to the series of screams coming from Superboy. On hit #18, Superboy lets out a whimper after a scream. Oh no, is he really hurt? Should I— oh wait no, don’t lose focus— and with that, one robot lands a solid uppercut to my balls. Yeeeooowwwww! I feel that fist connect with my potato-sized balls, which are then firmly clamped to my pelvis and transmit the impact which launches me in the air and toward another robot. Before I get the chance to react, this robot nut-punts me back into the air toward another one. They take turns playing hacky sack with my balls this way. After an agonizing eternity, they stop and I curl up on the ground. Three robots then pin me down, and the fourth one uses my sack as a punching bag. Punch after lunch, I start to fade out, overcome by the pain. I see Lex has won. I should surre—

“Enough!” Lex stops the robots. “Seems like you’re too weak to destroy your sidekick. Here why don’t I give him back to you. That way you can both be crushed side-by-side.” He said this while stroking his raging salmon. I was mortified. If these robots introduced me to pain, I can’t imagine how an Earth man would respond. Superboy is going to be completely pulverized. He is doomed. Lex unties Superboy and tosses him into the arena. He collapses on the ground as a heap of flesh and lycra and pain. I can see his hands massaging his battered bulge and can hear his soft groans. Lex starts the robots again, and my robot resumes pounding on me. My eyes are on Superboy. He gets up. One of the robots approaches him. Looks like a boxing robot. This robot is probably almost as strong as me. Just one low blow to Superboy’s bright red briefs will spell the end.

The robot wastes no time in launching the first strike. And the robot... misses? And misses again? Um, was this robot defective? I focus to slow down my perception of time. I see Superboy calmly slipping past the robot’s attacks. It’s very subtle, it looks like he isn’t doing anything at all. After letting the robot try to attack a few times, he leaps into the air with a front flip over the robot. This is a marvelous sight, seeing him launch himself in the air in slo-mo, his scissor legs showing off his bright red bulge as it arcs over. While in mid-air, he quickly thrusts his arm into an opening in the back of the robot’s neck and pulls out some wires. The robot sizzles and seizes, toppling to the ground. I had no idea Superboy was capable of this. It was beautiful spectacle. My robot starts punching more frequently, and I lose my slo-mo focus. Through clenched teeth and screaming testes, I see how the cowboy robot sneaks up behind Superboy. He tosses his lasso, and again it looks like he misses while Superboy just stands there. It takes a few tries before I observe the cowboy robot getting tossed over Superboy onto the ground. Did he grab the lasso and yank on it at just the right time? Superboy jumps on the fallen robot, and again seems to find the right spot to pull out wires and cause fireworks. He continues to make light work of many of the other robots. As the pile of scrap metal grows, I can see the increasingly confused and panicked look on Lex’s face. Eventually my karate robots let go of me and head toward Superboy, apparently in a desperate change of command.

I am relieved at the break I get from all this pummeling. I stay quiet and nurse my throbbing balls while watching in slo-mo Superboy battle all these robots. He is like fluid, ever aware of the motion around him and finding the minimal amount of effort needed to slip by. He also clearly understands robots, and knows after a few seconds of observation where the weak spot is. “So is that your Tai Chi?”, I ask in awe. “You tell me, I thought Tai Chi was for old people”, he retorts with his trademark smirk. His particularly crowning moment was somersaulting off the head of the final karate robot after pulling out wires from its navel. I have never seen anything so graceful, him sailing in the air with elegance and determination and again his bulge in full display. I spied him starting to look at me. I could see the corners of his mouth turn up to form a grin. And then I felt something familiar. With a wave of panic I turned on super-slo-mo. This time I could see it.

Superboy frozen in the air. A flash of light. A steel ball appears, races fast, crashes into Superboy’s danglers. When the cannon robot nailed me, I remember feeling the dull kthunk of a direct impact. But this ball seems to have aimed too low because after crashing into Superboy’s balls, the steel ball sails straight through his legs. Good thing Superboy wears such a loose bulge. A direct hit would have spelled doom. I could see Superboy’s bits flailing about in response to the grazing impact. The wave of tension spreads from between his legs. His muscles seize. His grin starts to slowly transform to a grimace. I need to rescue him.

I zip into the air, scoop him up, and fly him to the opposite side of the arena to buy us time. He wails and shrivels up on the floor, clutching his manhood. “They’re coming. Get back on your feet or we are both toast. You have five seconds.” I turn around to shield him and face the oncoming robots. I see the cannon robot approaching me and brace myself. KTHLUNK—GGGYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH Oh dear god it hurts way more than the first time owowowowowo—KTHLUNK—YYYYYOOOOWWWWWWWWWGGGHHHHHRRRRR I clench my teeth and tense every muscle in my body. KTHLUNK-URRRRRRRRGGH I clench my fists by my chest to fight the urge to cradle my aching nuts and collapse on the floor. KTHLUNK-GGGGGGHHHHHHH I have to keep this robot distracted can’t hit Superboy. KTHLUNK-GGYYRRRGGHHH Superboy yeah he’s up great he’s disabling the—KTHLUNK—AAAHH!—DDDRRRGGHHHGGGHHH disabling the other robots?? gotta stand it endure keep distracting the—KTHLUNK—GYAAAUUGGGGHHHHHHHHRRRRRGGHHHH no way I can do this yes I— KTHLUNK—YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH gotta protect gotta protect gotta—KTHLUNKTHLUNKTHLUNK—YYYEEEOOOWWWWUUGGHHHAAAAAUUUUGGHHHHHHH—what three times in a row I can’t even—KTHLUNKTHLUNKTHLUNK—EEEYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH—this is too much this pain it’s—KTHLUNKTHLUNKTHLUNKTHLUNKTHLUNK...

I’m there again. I can feel their collective pain. Since ancient Kryptonian history, men have been busting each other. Though eras and trends varied, some norms were inviolable. It was considered gentlemanly to dress in a way that accentuates your bulge and leaves it vulnerable, in order to be considerate of other gentlemen who would bust you. Mutual busting was a ritual that allowed even mildly acquainted gentlemen to bond. Different social situations called for different busting protocols. Non-consensual, or non-mutual busting was inconsiderate and taboo. However, in the generations leading up to Krypton’s demise, some villains wore cups and started attacking men without reciprocity. Eventually an army of men formed, which also wore “protection” and eventually stopped the villains. However, feeling the thrill of liberal busting freed from conservative norms proved addictive, and they eventually became the next wave of ballbusting villains. The world was soon engulfed in a panicked busting frenzy. Norms slowly broke down, and gentlemen started to bust indiscriminately. Hysterical busting mobs roamed about. That’s when the first global kryptonquake hit. Mysteriously, all men felt an aching rumble in their balls. The quakes returned, getting stronger, and causing more and more damage. I can feel it in my balls, too, now, the agony of billions of men consumed by the fire of an exploding planet, and the fire of their own tortured orbs.

...spark pop flash hiss... what is ugghhh is that? Superboy! Standing triumphantly on the malfunctioning wreck that was the cannon robot. Oh what a relief! I look around at the robot corpses littered about, at the heap of around one hundred metal balls all dented with the imprint of my own balls, at Lex who clearly blew a massive load. “You may have won this round, but my new army of robots are going to destroy your balls!” And with an evil cackle he hops into an escape pod and vanishes. Superboy hops off and walks to me. “Aren‘t you glad I saved you?”, he says with that smirk again. “You? I was the one who saved you. Besides—“ and I say this with a smirk of my own and a backhand to his balls “I wish you had taken out the cannon robot first.” He screams and laughs as he doubles over a bit. “But you were having such a good time, I didn’t want to interrupt.” His cheeky comment causes my blood to boil and just as I think about slapping that grin off his face, I notice he is looking at the massive erection that is straining my tight lycra suit. I’ve honestly never seen it so thick and meaty.

“Shall we go home, sidekick?” He nods, wraps his arms around my back and his legs around mine. Our balls are rubbing against each other, and our hard cocks are throbbing through our lycra side by-side. We fly off into the sky. Once in the air he suddenly grabs our balls and starts rolling all four of them around. I let out a groan and wobble in the air a bit. And there is his goddamn smirk, his smug, know-it-all, condescending... and charming smirk. He continues to massage us both, applying gentle pressure which combines the relief of a gentle hand with the bittersweet ache of our battered gonads. All it took for him was to hold my throbbing cock for just a moment before I came all over my supersuit. I returned the favor. We embrace and float for a moment, staring off into the sky around us.

We arrive home and sprawl on the couch, each gently holding his balls in hand. “You know, your balls are still too weak. That cannon robot would have made purée out of your plums. I need to toughen them up if you want to fight alongside me. I can’t always come to your rescue when a villain finds your bright red bulge an easy target. First thing tomorrow, we are going to spar, and your balls are going to suffer.” I realize Superboy is looking at my rising boner as I say this. “Well I need to toughen your balls too, Mr. Super.” “Hah! Right. That’s impossible. You’re human, you can’t make a dent in the Man of Steel.” He stifles a laugh and looks me straight in the eye with a peculiarly devilish smirk. And I notice it’s his turn to show off some blue steel. He takes off one of his glossy red boots, and pours out shiny red orbs into his hand. “Guess what these are.” “Your childhood marble collection?” “You wish. No, this is neopyrrhium. When I was taking down those robots, I also nabbed their neopyrrhium cores. I can use these to build far better robots than Lex’s pathetic jerk-offs. If his robots brought you down, mine are going to make you cry like a Superbaby.” My jaw drops, the blood drains from my face, and all I can say is a stuttering mess because I keep recalling today’s painful events. The prospect of even worse pain terrifies me. I tremble a little. My balls cringe. I hold them for comfort and reassurance. Is this what men are supposed to go through? This feeling of being so vulnerable? Being exposed to constant, world-ending pain? How can you be strong when your masculinity makes you weak? And why am I more aroused by all this pain than anything else? Am I gay? I look Superboy in the eyes; at his bright red, bulging briefs; at his throbbing cock, which he started to stroke; at his devilish, punk-ass smirk. I lean into him and say “Look, you can build all the robots you want, but before you do, you need to finally fix that goddamn coffee machine” while backhanding him hard in the nuts. He bursts out laughing, groaning, crying, and coughing all at once. Our eyes find each others’, our hands find each others’ stiffies, and we get to work all over again.

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wonderlustlucas · 6 years

Text

for science - na jaemin

⇢ prompt Standing beside him not as his best friend but as his girlfriend is a whole extra level in Hell. ⇢ pairing jaemin x female reader ⇢ word count 2k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings as requested, mega fluff overload. you may get a cavity. you’ve been warned ⇢ summary “request for another jaemin fic!! Fluff overload”—request ; fake dating ; friends to lovers ⇢ a/n i rlly only wrote this cuz i wanted to call this level 100 thot gay. happy belated birthday my love, i adore you endlessly❥

“You told them I’m your what?”

Sensing your sudden terror from the moment he parked and refused to unlock the doors, Jaemin winces at your alarmed tone, fiddling with the cuffs of his dress shirt as a sort of recalibration.

“Na Jaemin—”

“I know, I know! I’m sorry—it wasn’t my plan, I swear,” Jaemin sputters, reluctantly raising his gaze to finally meet your own distressed grimace. “Then why did you tell your whole family I’m your girlfriend, Jaemin? How am I supposed to go about this night pretending?”

Ignoring the pain in his heart that results from your piercing words, ignoring the utter disbelief that hardens your features, ignoring the urge to reach out to smooth over the stressed crease on your forehead, Jaemin gulps, “Before I came to get you, my cousins were giving me shit about not dating anyone and—and then I thought of you, and it was fine at first. But my Aunt overheard me and then it got back to my Mom and I had to make up a bunch of shit.”

Sighing at last, you decide it’s better to accept it as it is—one night pretending to be dating the boy you’ve been madly in love with for years was better than nothing, right? “I’m sorry,” Jaemin adds breathlessly, you would have missed it if the vehicle’s engine was still running, a heartbeat later you reach over, cupping his hand between your own and stroking his knuckles with your thumb.

“Don’t be sorry, Nana. I was just… surprised.”

“You’re not mad?”

Heart positively melting from the fretful façade he bears, sparkling eyes now dull and petal lips scarlet from biting, you smile tenderly before, “No, I’m not mad, silly goose. So, how about you tell me how we started dating?”

With a shaky laugh, he explains, “Back in July, when we went to Donghyuck’s graduation party. I said we accidentally kissed and then I asked you out.”

Focusing more on the way his fingers gradually began to intertwine with your own rather than listening to his pathetic excuse of a story, you too let out a mesmerized sigh, shaking your head to clear your brain of all the daydreams you have spent conjuring up moments like these, “O-Okay. Yeah, that sounds good. Didn’t your parents ask why you didn’t tell them?”

Jaemin shrugs, “I said I didn’t want to deal with all their questions and was waiting for tonight.”

“Well, I guess that works. Should we go in? Aren’t they waiting for us?” Nodding towards the restaurant, resembling a mansion more than anything else, tan stucco walls illuminated primrose with gold encrusted barn lights spaced between the floor-to-ceiling windows, you wonder, momentarily, why Jaemin’s parents would ever choose to have his birthday dinner at such an upscale place knowing he would be so much more content with something simpler. “Unfortunately,” Jaemin sighs, when his hand finally slips out from your own you have to take a moment to regulate your heartbeat before following him out.

Scampering to catch up with him and grumbling at the added difficulty walking in heels creates, you are simply trying to adjust the hem of your dress to an appropriate length when Jaemin grunts, curling his arm around your waist, “What are you huffing and puffing about? You look perfect.”

Unless an angel from heaven fluttered down, swept up your jaw, and placed it back onto its hinges, you truly have no idea how you manage to shut your mouth after having it hang open for such an embarrassingly long eternity, nearly choking on your suddenly desert dry vocal cords because oh God his arm is around your waist and oh God he smells good and did he just say you look perfect?

You clear your throat, “Wow, you’re gay. Just making sure, was that boyfriend Jaemin or my normal Jaemin?”

“Boyfriend Jaemin could always be your normal Jaemin, you know,” he winks—the sucker winks—but withdraws from you to swing open one side of the majestically tall oak door and nodding for you to enter first, leaving you to wallow in your pool of self-pity and near-death reality alone. Luckily, he follows after you not a second later, hand instead targeting your own instead of your waist and oh is his heart beating just as erratically as yours.

Leaning in, petal soft lips brushing the shell of your ear, Jaemin whispers, “We should probably hold hands. For science.”

Swallowing the saliva that ceases to exist, you look to the strawberry blonde to catch his prize-winning smile. Is he glowing or is it just the lights in this place?

With your brain displaying a system failure, you only grant him a timid nod and follow his lead to the front desk, where he greets the hostess with a softer smile and after giving her his name, you continue to walk further into the dining room. With walls varying between amber paint and warm red brick, you conclude this will most certainly be the only time you’ll be dining at such a restaurant, judging by the long, gold and oak tables adorned with cream lace table runners, colossal vases stocked with red roses, and rinky-dink dishes served on what looks like the finest of china.

“This is… extravagant,” you mutter, turning to the boy beside you. He seems to mirror your own expression, eyes full of wonder and irises reflecting gold, you subconsciously lean into him because that’s just how it is with Jaemin.

“Yeah, they really went all out for me.”

Debating on whether to reply with something along the lines of him ‘being worth it,’ you bite your tongue at the missed opportunity when, after what felt like a lifetime walking with Jaemin’s hand in yours, the hostess stops before the designated table. “Jaemin, ___!” Exclaims his mother, a spitting image of him when she beams the same starring smile and suddenly all eyes are on you, soaking in the image of standing beside Jaemin not as his best friend but as his girlfriend.

“Hello,” he greets, nodding to his family with a gentle smile as he tugs you to the remaining two seats—of course you would be late with Jaemin to his own birthday dinner—and, heart fluttering like bird’s wings when he pulls out the cushioned beige chair, you smile gratefully to him and settle into the seat.

Lucky for your awkward ass, the elongated table is the shape of an oval, and you find yourself at the curved corner, Jaemin next to you at the head, and his Aunt beside you. You’re not even finished familiarizing yourself with the members of Jaemin’s family when your seat is being tugged—oh, you jolt in surprise, turning to him with wide eyes as he fixes your chair until it is hardly half an arm's length away from his.

“Did you just—”

“Yes,” he purrs, smirking smugly and reaching for your napkin, you watch with a mind devoid of any rational thought as he flattens it over your thighs. “What’s up with you?” You hiss, startlingly aware of his family staring at the two of your like a cheetah waiting greedily to chase its prey. “Nothing,” he smiles, the corner of his mouth twitching into a threatening smirk but he hides it by bringing a prefilled glass of water to his lips, you watch, anticipating, as he takes a sip for him to add, “sorry, babe, am I boyfriending wrong?”

“Stop,” you whine, wrinkling your nose to play off your humiliation as repulsion. Did he just call you babe?

“You’re cute when you’re blushing.”

“I’m not even blushing.”

“Yes, you are. You’re smiling at the table,” he giggles—what a child—and pokes your warm cheek with his index finger, “don’t lie.”

“Na Jaemin, if you don’t stop harassing me, I will have no choice but to shove this fork up your ass,” you warn, gripping said weapon and waving it in his face. He pouts, reaching for the utensil and placing it back with your other silverware, “That’s not nice. I’m just being sweet to the love of my life.”

Heart hammering against a glass ribcage, your brain once again glitches for the umpteenth time tonight, “You don’t have to fake this when no one is listening, you know.” Jaemin huffs and rolls his eyes in order to buy some time, his confession, everything he has always wanted to say, is right there, lingering on the tip of his tongue but, as usual, something always seems to get in the way of his thought process.

“Sir, what will you have to drink?”

You watch, stifling a laugh as Jaemin jumps in surprise, sputtering for words and you almost take pity on him if it were not for the unhealthy beating of your heart as a result of his words. “Uh, c-chocolate milk, please.”

“And for you, miss?”

“Chocolate milk, too.”

“You did that on purpose,” Jaemin snorts once the waiter moves along, flipping over his menu and you gape, ready to smack the sly grin off his face no matter how unacceptably gorgeous the warm glow of the lamps make him.

“What? What’d I do?”

“Order the same thing as me on my birthday,” he smirks, scanning over the laminated paper and ignoring your annoyance like nobody’s business. “Excuse me, sir. Am I not allowed to have the same drink as you?” Snorting, you finally look to your own menu, picking at the hem of your dress because why does he have to be so infuriating?

“Yo,” he bugs you not a heartbeat later, digging his elbow into your side, “my Mom wants to take a picture.”

“Oh! Sure,” sitting up, you first reach up to fix a stray strand of his hair before leaning impossibly closer, shoulder against his chest and presenting your best smile as she taps her phone screen. “Ma, make sure you get this one,” Jaemin pipes up, pushing you off from his chest only to twist you to face him, you giggle at his mindless manhandling, allowing him to lay your hair however he likes.

“What are we doing? Goofy pic?” You ask, reeling him back after his meticulous fixing. When he does not answer, you tilt your head curiously, unable to read his expression but then he’s leaning closer and oh.

His lips taste and feel just as chapped as they look, although you cannot think of any feeling better than them pressed to your own, breathing him into your lungs like a starved man, and wow this is so much better than all the hours you have spent imagining this. The warmth of his tongue just barely brushes your own when you pull back, no matter how much it pains you to do so but now is not the time to shove your tongue down his throat, nerves burning a fire under your skin.

“You stopped,” Jaemin whispers, warm breath fanning over your cheeks when he leans his forehead against yours. “Believe me, buddy, I wanted that kiss to be more than a peck, too. But I don’t want your family to judge,” you chuckle breathlessly, itching to kiss him again but what was that?

“Buddy?”

You sigh, “Nana, I don’t know what to call you after that,” Jaemin sucks in a sharp breath at this, finally fluttering open his eyelids to gaze upon you with all the adoration in the world as you go on, “that was more than pretending, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he hums, scanning over your features for any sign of doubt before, “I don’t know how to ask out my best friend.”

“Do you just want to skip all that talking nonsense and just go right to the dating part?”

“Yeah, I like the sound of that. I think we’ve done a pretty good job so far,” Jaemin smiles softly, pressing an angel soft peck to the corner of your mouth before pulling away with yet another grin brighter than the sun itself and oh my you could get used to this.

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notsugarandspice · 6 years

Text

goodnight n go

Read it on AO3.

for @itfandomweek Cold prompt thingy :3

Rated T?? (idk), Reddie, Cold Weather, Sharing a Bed, First Kiss, based on a song, decade-long pining (what else is new), the heater is down, and everything is meant to be

“Rich, you barely have enough time to sprint from the cab.”

Richie’s smile was small which is a rarity on itself but what really surprised Eddie was the pressure of fingers around his jaw. His heart was just about to leap out into the hallway of the stuffy apartment building. Eddie had a hundred regrets about not drinking his wine faster - maybe he’d have enough courage to do what his brain kept replaying on a loop.

“Do you even know how hard it is to say goodbye to you, Eds?” It should’ve been funny, like any hilarious joke Richie always tells that Eddie pretends not to laugh at. But the tone is serious, filled with longing, so breathy at the nickname. Eddie’s chest was burning.

“Shut up. Just say goodnight and go.”

Richie brushed a thumb on Eddie’s cheekbone and let his fingers get tangled in overgrown blond waves. He pushed Eddie’s head to his lips and pressed them to the forehead, lingering there a bit. Richie quickly slipped through the door rapping his knuckles on the wall outside in a rhythm of yet another song stuck in his head.

Eddie barely had enough time to do the dishes and settle back on the couch when he got a text from Richie. He rolled his eyes, but a wide smile spread on his face vis a vis the tumbling feeling in his stomach that’s been growing more violent throughout the years.

RT: shitfuck missed my train. mind if I stay with u?

Eds: I fucking TOLD you

RT: -______-

Eds: Fine.

Eddie quickly got up from the couch to clean up the area, even though they just hung out there not thirty minutes earlier. He went to the closet in his room to pull out some spare bedding for the couch, his head swimming with wine and the influx of thoughts that screamed all the things he tried not to think about. Eddie just started making the daybed when he heard a similar rattle of knuckles on the front door. For whatever reason, Richie never used the doorbell.

Eddie opened the door and his cheeks instantly flushed because of the red on Richie’s - it’d been extremely cold all week, and the other barely wore enough clothing to prevent hypothermia. Eddie dragged him in by the hem of the jean jacket.

Richie snickered and caught Eddie’s hand to press a cold kiss to it, making the smaller man blush an even deeper red. “You know, if you wanted it rough, you could’ve just said so, Eddie-Spaghetti.”

“Rich, you- Why can’t you ever wear normal, weather appropriate clothes?” Eddie gave him a once-over, a little irritated with himself for enjoying an image of Richie in a tight black turtleneck.

Richie stepped a little closer, crowding the other’s space in a cramped hallway. “Weather appropriate clothes is no clothes, babey.” He dragged the tongue over the top row of uneven teeth accompanied by a wink and Eddie was starting to consider poking his eyes out, just so he doesn’t have to catch himself staring at his friend’s mouth every other second.

“Idiot, you know the heater barely works. No clothes will literally send you to the ER. Shoes.” Eddie pointed a finger down and quickly escaped the proximity that made his lungs temporarily close up. “You want a drink?”

“What?” asked Richie, stuck taking off his beat-up Converse.

“DO YOU WANT A DRINK?” screamed Eddie, poking out from the opening of the kitchen. He winced when he felt the chill of the tiles through two layers of socks.

“YEAH!”

Eddie poured them both some red wine (his stash was rather extensive since Ben’s failed attempt at opening a liquor store) and went straight to the living room, Richie already there, staring stupidly at the half-made bed in front of him. “Please tell me you’re not going to sleep on the couch because of me.”

Eddie snickered and reached out the glass, shivering from the warm brush of Richie’s finger. “Yeah, fat chance. You’re sleeping here.”

Richie groaned and fell down on the clean unmade sheets, dramatically covering his face with a bare pillow. “I can’t believe you’re making me sleep in your freezing living room. You literally have two small heaters in your bedroom.”

“Let me get this straight, your concern over my sleeping arrangements was just you making sure you’re not sleeping here?” Eddie cocked an eyebrow and placed his glass on the coffee table, intent on completing the pull-out.

“To-may-to, to-mah-to, Eds.” Richie put the pillow behind his head and started nonchalantly sipping on his wine, his eyes trained on the TV as if he could will it to turn on with the power of his gaze.

Eddie yanked the pillow from under the man’s head and smacked him with it. “Get the fuck up, Richie, I need to finish making the bed.”

“I can help you finish,” said Richie with a grin and Eddie got perfectly still for a second. Richie’s eyes got even larger behind his glasses as if he knew what’s coming and he just had enough time to lift the glass above him when Eddie lied down on his back and started kicking at his friend’s side, making him tumble over. Richie’s laughter filled the room, and his stupid grinning face was starting to really bug Eddie.

“Damn, you’re extra feisty today.”

Eddie rolled over and started putting on the pillowcase. “Bold of you to assume I’m not extra feisty every day.”

Richie made a mock-impressed face and leaned on the bed with his elbows, the glass abandoned on the floor. “Touché.” Eddie could feel Richie’s eyes on him, scanning and interested. “Need some help?”

Eddie looked at his friend, at the ocean blue in his eyes, a small stubble on his chin and the little wrinkles on the sides of his eyes because Richie always smiled with his whole face. He felt like he fell in love with him all over again. You’re thirty and nothing ever happened and not going to happen. Get your head out of your ass.

“Penny for your thoughts?” asked Richie, tugging on the strings of Eddie’s hoodie.

Eddie could feel his whole face go crimson and he coughed out embarrassingly, stuffing the pillow into the case with his fists. “S-sorry, I just- I’m tired, ’s all.”

“Right,” said Richie with an emotionless tone and got up to walk towards the bathroom, his frame visibly rigid. Eddie didn’t understand what he did wrong, but he continued the motion, chastising his own stupidity.

Eddie finished making the bed and sat back down with a wine glass in hand, unable to concentrate on his planned reading. He was trying to will his brain to stop creating scenarios where he crawls under these sheets with Richie to keep him warm. Because that would be totally normal for two gay best friends.

Eddie’s ears started to hurt from the cold of the living room, and he put the hood up, making himself smaller on the daybed. He wished he was already tired enough to go to sleep but in all honesty, the time he spent with Richie this afternoon wasn’t nearly enough. It was never enough. Every time his friend stepped out of his apartment he wanted to yank him right back, and do anything: talk, watch movies, listen to music, play board games. He wasn’t picky when it came to Richie.

Richie stepped out of the bathroom already armed with sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt, his hair in a messy black bun, cheeks red from the hot water. He looked so cozy and cuddly, Eddie’s stomach tumbled thirty times over from the image. Richie plopped down on the couch and gave Eddie one of those small, shy smiles.

“You tired yet? Want to watch a movie?” And that was more than enough incentive for Eddie to want to stay up.

They ended up talking through the whole movie, Eddie’s legs in Richie’s lap, their bodies so close together that the freezing cold was long forgotten. Richie was animatedly telling Eddie about the most talented client of his, a teenage girl who has the biggest heart and the best voice in the industry. Richie was sure she’s going to be a star in less than two years.

Eddie was blossoming under Richie’s excitement, observing the way the smile never left his face, the way he kept grabbing onto Eddie’s shoulder when he remembered something he forgot to mention, the way he frowned adorably when he couldn’t recall somebody’s name (Richie was horrible with names, great with nicknames). There was always so much energy surrounding Richie even when he was on the verge of passing out, his contagious enthusiasm making everyone around him giddy with excitement. But he was obviously exhausted, the screen had been rolling credits for the last minute or so and Richie had been repressing yawns by pinching his face. This time it made Eddie laugh so much, he doubled over.

“Alright, time to sleep,” said Eddie getting up from the couch, instantly shivering from the lack of physical contact. He took the empty glass from Richie’s hand, and the man finally let himself yawn, his mouth stretching so wide that Eddie was legitimately worried its corners were going to snap.

“Shit, Spaghetti, that wine made me so sleeeepy,” said Richie turning on his stomach, burying his face in the pillows.

Eddie simply snorted in response, unable to form any other coherent sentence to the adorable image in front of him. He placed the glasses in the sink and shut off all the lights besides the tiny night light by the couch. Richie was lying down on top of all the covers and Eddie had to drag them from underneath the guy, almost making him fall over again. He quickly threw the covers over Richie, took the glasses off and undid the bun, lightly spreading the hair. Richie sighed deep and quickly grabbed onto Eddie’s wrist as he started straightening out.

“Come snuggle, Eds. I promise I’m better than a heater.” He couldn’t see Richie’s face that well but his voice was soft and deep. All Eddie wanted was to be brave enough to cross the line he’d been afraid to cross since he was fourteen.

Eddie twisted his hand to play with Richie’s fingers silently, his chest constricting painfully. “Go to sleep, Rich.”

“‘Kay. Goodnight.”

Eddie sighed and missed the touch of Richie’s surprisingly warm hands. His were cold as ice. “Goodnight.”

He walked into his room, closing the door to keep the heat in. But as soon as he shut it, he noticed that the temperature wasn’t different from the hallway. He looked up at the ceiling speaking to no one in particular. “Fucking great.”

His nightlight was off, and he realized that electricity must’ve shut off in the goddamn ten seconds it took him to walk towards his room. Eddie fell on the bed face down, sheets icy and uninviting. He tried burying himself in the duvet and a million pillows, and his body wasn’t shaking anymore, but he felt like he was making the biggest mistake trying to get comfortable here. His mind kept going back to the image of Richie, covers under his chin, a dopey smile on his face. Eddie’s heart started speeding up before he even decided to move his legs off the bed, silently walking towards the living room as if a magnet drew him closer.

Richie was still in the same position, turned away towards the window, his back to the hallway. Eddie breathed out, his freezing hands sweating from the nervousness. He slowly lifted the covers and lied down sideways, already so much warmer than he was under his fluffy duvet. He breathed in for courage and moved closer, his thighs bumping into the back of Richie’s, making his heart bounce violently. He was steeling himself to move closer when he felt Richie’s hand on his, wrapping his own over the taller man’s waist. An insanely wide smile spread on Eddie’s face, and he hid it between Richie’s shoulder blades, breathless with their close proximity. He moved his hips closer, completely attaching himself to Richie and kissed his friend’s back, overcome with emotion. He was sure Richie was at least half-asleep and wouldn’t feel anything through the fabric anyway, but then his friend turned around, still pressed to Eddie.

Richie grabbed under Eddie’s knee, throwing the leg over his hips, now even closer, too close, too close. He saw the outline of Richie’s face in the dark but couldn’t see the eyes, couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Richie’s hand moved from the thigh to Eddie’s hip, the feeling so heavy and new, creating small tornadoes in the pit of Eddie’s abdomen.

“Did you come to keep me warm, Eds?”

Eddie swallowed, the scent of wine washing over him. “To keep me warm too.”

“We haven’t cuddled since 8th grade.” Richie tucked some of Eddie’s hair behind the ear, fingers brushing the jawline afterward.

“It was already too late.”

Richie chuckled, somehow pressing even closer now. “What, middle schoolers aren’t allowed no-homo snuggles?”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile, playing with the strings on his sweatshirt. “No, idiot. I mean- I mean it was already too late for me. We didn’t stop on time.”

Richie raised his chin a bit, and they had to find each other’s eyes in the dark. “Didn’t stop what?”

“I dunno…whatever I feel for you. It was already too late. Like a year or so.”

He couldn’t feel Richie’s breath on his cheeks for several seconds. “Whatever you feel for me? Is this your way of telling me you liked me since 8th grade?”

Eddie rolled his eyes in the dark, his cheeks burning as much as Richie’s hand was burning under his sweatshirt now. “This is my way of telling you I loved you since 7th grade.”

Richie brushed their noses together, their lips impossibly close. “Damn, Eds. Seventeen years? Way to leave the guy hanging.”

Eddie moved the inch that separated them and gave Richie the softest kiss, a kiss he reserved for him, and him only. Eddie’s fingers flew to the stubble on Richie’s jawline, rough but inviting. Richie’s arm instantly covered the entirety of Eddie’s back, pressing him closer, so close it almost hurt. Eddie’s leg did the same to Richie’s lower back, pushing more and more and more. Somehow Richie’s tongue touched his and Eddie released an embarrassing strangled noise, his body so hot it could probably warm up the whole building. He bit into his friend’s lower lip and was about to dive in for more when Richie drew back, breathing hard. They were so close Eddie could feel Richie’s rapid heartbeat against his own chest.

“Holy shit, Eds,” he huffed a laugh, “we really need to slow down.”

“You’re kidding, right? It’s only been more than a decade, why don’t we wait one more.”

Richie laughed loud, his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck. “Eddie, my love, I think decades worth of pinning probably require some sort of a talk.”

Eddie drew back to be face to face with Richie. “What, you think I was joking?”

“No,” Richie brushed his thumb on the other’s cheek, “I just want this to be real. I need to make sure this isn’t our secret in the dark, y’know?”

Eddie knew exactly what he meant. He instantly felt bad for even pressing. He waited so long, he could wait a couple of hours in Richie’s arms. “Deal. First in the morning,” said Eddie, punctuating the statement with his index finger.

“You got it, cutie.” Richie kissed Eddie’s finger and turned him to the side, sighing into the soft blond hair. Eddie forgot it was December. His whole life suddenly felt like summer.

Perma Tag: @d-nbroughs @j0ys @tinyarmedtrex @aizeninlefox @studpuffin @constantreaderfool @its-stranger-than-you-think (I’m removing some people who don’t interact - I’m not here to force my work on anyone, so no hard feelings. Let me know if you want to be removed/added to a perma list or a specific fic ♡)

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #my writing #fluffy things #it fandom week #prompts

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childishsoup · 7 years

Text

I was tagged by @therealtrashhole (My bro, I didn’t even realize you knew I existed so I’m stoked).

Side note, I have a side blog, @livingforpolylosersclub, for all your It (2017) needs. Rules: Tag 10 followers you want to get to know better. Rip you guys.

Name: Kali, some call me Kay but not really lol.

Gender: Just a giant question mark (leaning toward NB/Fem but idk).

Star Sign: I’m a bit of a brat with this one because I’m born on the cusp of Pisces and Aries but technically I’m an Aries.

Height: 5′7″ or 5′8″.

Age: I just turned 20 6 days ago so goodbye teenage me and hello depression.

Sexuality: I’m so bisexual its honestly painful to witness.

House: Slytherin (Aka the best house).

What image do you have as your wallpaper?: My phone lock screen is some bullshit live wallpaper that came with my phone but its just leaves but my laptop wallpaper is Richie’s face in Niebolt right before Pennywise jumps out of the coffin to scare him.

Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?: Absolutely not. My teachers were all old and gross/weird or people I looked up to.

Where do you see yourself in 10 years?: HAHAHAHAHA....no. Nope. Not opening this can of worms. My problems and insecurities don’t exist if I ignore them for long enough, right?

If you could be anywhere else right now, where?: Honestly? I’d like to say Hawaii or something but I’d really just like to be in a giant bathtub somewhere relaxing and pretending all my troubles can be washed away...get it?

What was your coolest Halloween costume?: Yikes...um Halloween has always been a HUGE FUCKING DEAL for me and my family sooooooooo either killer clown or, embarrassingly enough, when I cosplayed as Maka from Soul Eater in Freshman year. (My sister cosplayed with me as a VERY convincing Soul so we totally rocked it but GOD is that embarrassing to look back on).

What was your favorite 90’s show?: I am going to echo @therealtrashhole because I was also born in ‘98 and didn’t really grow up watching 90′s TV but I fucking loved watching Full House and Hey Arnold reruns as a kid.

Last Kiss?: It was like 5 seconds ago lol. I’ve been in a relationship with my boyfriend for 3 years. We live together. Just a goodnight kiss.

Have you ever been stood up: Nope.

Have you ever been to Las Vegas?: Several times but never for my own enjoyment lol. Once for a wedding, a few times because other people dragged me there so they could have fun while I was still a minor (my parents, my friend’s parents, etc).

Favorite pair of shoes?: I only have 2-3 pairs of shoes that I actually wear. So out of those I’d say my vans lol. Basic bitch over here.

Favorite fruit?: I love Bosc Pears and Cherries soooooo much.

The Stupidest thing you’ve ever done?: Yikes. Without getting too depressing? I’d say trying to join a sport. I don’t know why I ever thought I’d be good at that lol.

All-time favorite TV shows?: Oh, God. Criminal Minds, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Bones, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Stranger Things, Helix, Spongebob Squarepants, Suite Life of Zack and Cody, AND THAT’S JUST THE ONES I’M BORDERLINE OBSESSED WITH.

The Last movie you saw in theater: I saw Love, Simon just this past week and cried like a little gay baby.

Tagging (I’m sorry guys. Ye don’t have to if ye don’t wanna!): @baby-be-pransome, @losersclubarepoly, @pyxis-speaks, @lieberswhore, @richietoaster, @devilstrip, @sinningtozier, @thegreatwhiteferret, @sagansrecord, @stonedzier, ( and an extra just for my bro @merrickstorms )

#personal #pls #i need friends #someone pls talk to me yikes

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hitomishiga · 7 years

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rarepairs? how about yoharuby?

Gives nose/forehead kisses: god the mental image of ruby giving yoshiko nose kisses is just too powerful. im dying!

Gets jealous the most: yoshiko bc of who she is as a person. and its less jealousy and more like, a quiet ‘ur not gonna leave me alone right’, which is canon

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive: well outta the two of them yoshiko is the most likely to go that far, so... ruby. ruby getting that smashed tho is very funny and happens exactly once at her 21st probably, and its maris fault, and never again

Takes care of on sick days: hellooo ruby. yoshiko is always sick thats actually canon! sorry nick if it feels like im stealing but i swear

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day: look again its ruby. i cant even twist this one the other way. once yoshikos out in the water tho? yeah, she can drag ruby around as payback

Gives unprompted massages: i realised i totally misread this question before bc i cant read sorry. yoshiko needs them more, but... probably neither of them are very good at it. so its less massage and more like. u know when u sit there and brush her hair and rub her shoulders while watching a movie? more like that.

Drives/rides shotgun: PLEASE imagine yoshiko on the road. do this for me in your mind’s eye. now tell me, how could it be any other way. it has to be like this.

Brings the other lunch at work: rather than bringing in person, i can imagine like, ordering it for the other (yoshiko) when they realise theyve probably forgotten it (yoshiko) or lost it (yoshiko) or fsr got to work and it was expired somehow (yosh

Has the better parental relationship: oh again yoshiko even tho we know 0 abt her dad, if he exists.rubys got the doting parents thing goin on tho, even if shes closer to dia than to either of them.

Tries to start role-playing in bed: you literally know who it has to be. im so sorry!

Embarrassingly drunk dancer: its so so so tempting to just say yoshiko for everything and put her right on blast but. both. both. duet dancing? trying (with surprising success) to dance the old idol routines?

Still cries watching Titanic: both ruby and maru just share this in common, i feel. more bc if u watch titanic more than once ur the kind of person to cry every time out of obligation

Firmly believes in couples costumes: nobody resists ruby kurosawa.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas: for these guys, not every year, mostly bc there really is a definite divide as to what constitutes ‘expensive’ between them so rubys a lil more conscious abt like, not spending too much. they both probably prefer sentiment anyway (yoshiko wont admit it)

Makes the other eat breakfast: ruby!! are you joking me!!!

Remembers anniversaries: again ruby, but arguably yoshiko cares more about? well not cares more abt it but yknow. shes a dweeb! shes gay and a dweeb and shes valid!

Brings up having kids: i think its something they wouldnt think abt for a while, but ruby if either of them. yoshiko is content to live up to her image and be the crazy cat lady, but... maybe itd be nice to have a kid...at some point...

#no effort mochi bc nick already did this and i cant think of anything else other than that djfhgjf #yoharuby #love live sunshine #ask meme #i only did it bc....i love them so so much...#theyre my favs!!#sun and moon baby gays!

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tessatechaitea · 4 years

Text

Justice Society of America #1 (1992)

Hourman looks like he's trying to remember how long they've been battling this thing.

If your super power is that you take a pill that lets you have super powers for one hour, don't call yourself Hourman. Why would you tell every villain you're battling that if they just prolong the fight for a little over sixty minutes, they'll kick your ass? My theory is that Hourman's pills actually work for two hours and by purporting that his powers only last an hour, he eventually takes them by surprise when they find he didn't lose his powers. Also, by making them think he'll be powerless at the end of an hour, any stalling tactics they choose to use just gives more time for JSA backup to arrive. Maybe Hourman is smarter than I thought! I remember picking up this comic book because something in me wanted to like and appreciate the Justice Society. I believe I eventually killed that part of me with hallucinogenic mushrooms and alcohol. I also think I gave it a try because of the cartoony cover art and the logo that screams, "This is a cartoon!" It totally fooled me even though, at twenty, I should have realized comic books and cartoons were quite different mediums.

We interrupt this comic book review to say good morning to Gravy. Note the Lobo statue and the H.P. Lovecraft horror corner angle of my office.

The issue begins by reminding the readers that the Justice Society is composed of old geezers. But they don't look super old even though they fought Nazis because they were trapped in a bottle fighting Ragnarok or something. That's how I remember it and I won't be convinced of anything different. Erasing incorrect memories and replacing them with facts is probably like using an old VHS tape to constantly tape over old shows. Pretty soon the quality of the tape is fucked and you can't tell what the hell you're watching. And I don't want my brain to become an old VHS tape full of static and flip-flopping images! I'd rather it be full of crystal clear misinformation!

Popcorn for the kid and a large cup of bull semen for gramps!

These two nobodies have come to Gotham Stadium to see an exhibition put on by the Justice Society. They're all there: the ones with wings, the one with the bedpan on his head, the squat one that definitely gets paid to shit in people's mouths, the blind one, the one with a wood allergy, the one with the pill addiction, the gassy one, the possessed one, the furry, and Starman. You can tell they're an older generation group because only one of them is female and she's just a redundant copy of Hawkman. Clark and Lois are in attendance to sort of explain why the Justice Society aren't super old farts.

I guess I'll learn the details when I get around to reading Armageddon 2001 and its spin-offs. That was the crossover where Captain Atom becomes tyrant of the world in a dystopian future. Oh, sorry. It was actually Hawk and not Captain Atom because all the readers immediately guessed it was Captain Atom and the editors were all, "We need to surprise the audience! Make it a character nobody would have guessed or even cared about at all!"

Lois starts getting romantic and maudlin thinking about how she and Clark may get to spend as many years together as the Justice Society and she turns to him and says half of something romantic before she's interrupted by Clark saying, "Hey, there's the mayor!" What a scoop! Although why the fuck is Clark getting so excited about the mayor of Gotham? The mayor calls the Justice Society "America's greatest heroes" and Clark's boner doesn't subside because he's such a humble Kansas farm boy. Can't we agree that just because somebody was first doesn't mean we have to hold them up as being the best? I mean, George Washington was the first president of the United States but nobody considers him the greatest president. That was obviously Jimmy Carter. That wasn't a joke. Jimmy Carter was our greatest president. Change my mind. No wait. Don't change my mind. There's nothing I hate more than debating over the Internet. Just go have an ice cream cone and calm the fuck down. The mayor introduces all of the Justice Society for the young kids reading who are just thinking, "Who the fuck are these jerks?" The giant monster that crawls up from underground conveniently waits to attack until the entire team is introduced. Good thing or else I'd keep thinking, "Why is Jimmy Olsen on the Justice Society?" Now I know that's Johnny Thunder! Those of you paying close attention already know I knew that was Johnny Thunder when I referred to him as "the possessed one."

Don't you mean "What in Earth?", Hawkwoman?

Ha ha! I'm like the one asshole you time travel with who always responds to the person saying "Where are we?" with "Don't you mean 'When are we?'" Always such a good line that's been said five million times so it always seems weird when some script writer thinks it's okay to use it yet again. Fuck I hope nobody says it in the new Bill and Ted movie. Justin (the young man with the grandfather guzzling bull semen) gets so excited he leaps head first out of the upper deck. Hawkwoman saves him because the guys are too busy not being compassionate enough. Although did he want to be saved? I don't know. I might take the dive if I had to hang out with a guy who drinks large cups of bull semen. Medium or small, I could handle. I might even indulge in a small. But fucking large? And overflowing! So gross.

Oh the nights I've had that began with me thinking, "If I can only get a wirepoon through that Moby Dick!"

Superman swoops in to beat up the monster and steal all of the attention for himself. I guess he did bristle at the notion that the Justice Society were America's greatest heroes. He could have at least waited a few minutes to see if they could stop the monster without all dying of heart attacks. I suppose as soon as Sandman crumpled to his knees while clasping his chest and screaming, "I'm comin'!", Superman felt forced to intervene.

The pill popper is just saying what we're all thinking.

Superman mentions that this is the Justice Society's retirement party. That makes sense. I shouldn't have assumed that they were returning to reality to constantly battle the Ultra-Humanite. They just want their pension checks and some hard candies. Sandman is down and Johnny Thunder believes he's had another stroke.

Luckily Wildcat got to Sandman before the mouth shitter.

Later, Alan and Jay* go to a diner to indulge in some exposition (*Alan is Green Lantern and Jay is The Flash -- Nerd Editor Big Nerd Grunion!). They returned to Earth rejuvenated but now some of that is wearing off. I guess maybe in Armageddon Inferno, they returned much younger and now for this series, the writer wanted to get them back up to kind of old. But not super old like all of their wives and husbands! Not that any of them have husbands because they're all straight males (I think! This is before Alan became New 52 gay). They discuss how back in their day, they only had to fight "jewel thieves and bank robbers" while the new heroes now battle "mass murderers" too. Did they forget about all the Nazis they fought?! Maybe they just remember them as simple art thieves?

Oh, okay. They remember Hitler and the Nazis. It's just a seeming smallish footnote in their story, I guess.

While having coffee, Jay and Alan get their super hero news alerts just like they always have: a television playing in the background with the sound way up. Apparently some "anti-nuke loonies" have laid siege to a nuclear reactor. And they're not as peaceful as you'd expect people who are anti-nuclear power would be; they're armed and, um, loony?

Oh, I guess they are loonies! They're just not anti-nuke like Alan assumed. He is old so everybody fucking up the status quo is probably just another Goddamned hippie to him.

Who is that guy and who are the mutant wild life and why have they been imprisoned? It would have been easier to understand if they actually were armed hippies protesting against nuclear war by exploding a power plant. Oh, duh. That's Cain, leader of The New Order! How could I forget Cain and the New Order after only 28 years! The other members of New Order are Scud, Ammo, Corona, and...Pooch? They're not too experienced or maybe Alan and Jay are super experienced because Alan and Jay beat them like a schoolyard bully beats the new kid's younger sister while making the new kid watch. That was my last simile from my stash of bulk similes I had Pickle Boy write me a few months ago. I guess it was good enough. But now I'm going to need more! Green Lantern and The Flash decide they're not ready to retire after playing hero. But they don't decide it with dignity and gravitas. The Flash just says, "Retirement?" And Green Lantern embarrassingly responds, "Not!" Ah ha ha! Oh, 1993, how I miss you! I mean I don't but I'm not going to say the word that implies I didn't really mean that which makes the entire statement super funny because I'm referencing a film based on a short sketch that was totally hilarious. Justice Society of America #1 Rating: C. It's probable that this series was green-lit simply because DC management were nostalgic for the Justice Society. I'm sure the pitch was simply, "Picture this: the Justice Society of America! But older! But not too much older! Just the right amount of older!" And everybody was all, "Okay. Sure. Whatever. We're busy planning the death of Superman over here. Just do what you want." I guess that was good enough. I mean, I bought it and I was not very discriminating at all! You picked up a lot of comic books you didn't really care about when they were only a buck twenty-five per issue.

#Justice Society of America #JSA #Len Strazewski #Mike Parobeck #Mike Machlan

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thaisduarteadv · 4 years

Text

Looking for us. Amid so many feelings, Lara discovers in herself and her friends that we all have secrets and personalities that propel us to good and bad ways. A conflict between morals, religion, challenges of the new century and desires. Five minutes Suddenly I found myself there, in the middle of loud music, trying hand to let Dyana smile and amidst a laugh says something I can't hear, I force my attention amid stumbling and difficulties to balance in high heels, it seems that talks about God understanding that it will be my only presentation.

Her voice is beautiful, a pity that she doesn't even want to dedicate herself to the dances, says Dyana, all flustered, stopping the rush when she enters a dressing room.

- Listen friend, breathe, she said. Everything will be ok, ok! Relax, just do what you always do in church, go up, pick up the microphone, close your eyes and sing, it's just a song, God won't care, oh and try to hide that scared face, smile... said Dyana already leaving and shouting in the corridor, where when opening the door the noise of electronic music again makes me want to cover my ears.

And here I am, heart pounding, that feeling of divine rejection, where I was with my head when I let Dyana choose this skirt so short, oh if my mother saw me now, she would fall on her knees and without a doubt would scream that I am condemned to hell and that red lipstick, I never use that color, I look like a girl in life ... while I drown in my feelings of disapproval, I hear a knock on the door and call my name.

- Lara, can I come in?

- Ah, thank God for a known voice.

- Where were you Will?

When opening the door:

- Sorry, I thought you were my friend Will, can I help you?

- I'm you crazy.

- Will? I said, so low that I almost drown in my prejudice, with no time to hide my bewilderment at what, or who was before my eyes!

- Larinha your beautiful, for go, this is making me embarrassed, let me help you look more beautiful, if that is possible, those blunt hair, oh how God gives wings to those who don't know how to fly, if it were me owner of that belt, and those beautiful eyes, come on, come on, sit down babe, today you will shine!

And there, still trembling, I closed the door and thank God the hellish noise subsided, smiling embarrassingly, trying to maintain the usual mood, but difficult to hide it, when I see this image in front of me.

While Will, playing and singing, shouting that I will rock, I look trying not to show disgust, after all he is a very beautiful transvestite, he looks just like he was born a woman, how beautiful his face was in the midst of those long reddish curls, and that giant mouth, to think that I already kissed him, my God!

God in heaven, how far is a man looking for happiness that can only be found in Christ, how can he be a great father, I remember Will helping Dyana in college, another crazy person, how he can torment an entire room by taking his children attending classes, Will exchanged frauds, good times, laughs.

- So answer, what color?

- How, I'm sorry I didn't understand, I said, returning from my thoughts.

- Cat, what color of eyeshadow can I put in your beautiful eyes?

- Anyone, I mean a very light pink ...

-Oh, here you come, not today, huh, you won't be playing today, said Will.

- Will, who knows. He said in a low, embarrassed voice, seeming unable to hide the whirlwind of thoughts.

Despite having already been warned by Dyana, I had not yet seen him dressed as a woman, and how can he change so much physically? Your face, how you can balance yourself on that platform, and your voice, the only thing I see from you Will, are your eyes hidden behind those huge lashes, my God, the most beautiful freak, I really feel like kissing you, it can't be, I'm going crazy, one abyss calls the other, I shouldn't be here.

- Hey girl, calm down, said Will, let me be okay, and stop calling me that, here I am Katerina uhhhh

And we all laughed, as if the biggest joke was being told.

- Look beautiful, when Dyana told me that she managed to convince you to come and sing a song, did I discredited it.

- Lara? our Larinha? not!

- I confess there was even a bet, laughs ... only if she jumps out the window, I said to Dyana ... laughs.

- You didn't jump out the window to escape your mother, did you? Kkkkk

- Yes, I mean, no, laughs

- I had to lie, I said I was going to sleep at a friend's house, and you know, right, my mom wouldn't understand.

Laughter and laughter.

Before I managed to organize my ideas, already suppressing my disapproval of being there, I was deafened by electronic music when Dyana opens the door to the dressing room and shouts:

- Five minutes...

- Today you will shine Lara Davis.

- Will, help me, I won't make it, he said, almost without a voice, looking for something to lean against.

- Stop it, Will shouted, you need that money remember? After all, that's what you came for, Dyana, she told me it's a thousand dollars for you to go up on that stage and sing just one song, which I think is a waste, after all your voice is beautiful and go, you sing every Sunday, there's no secret for you, Dyana told me that if she wanted to, she would make lots of money.

- If I could go up in your place, kkkk, but the grace was given to you cat, then for freshness. Sorry for the intrusion but why do you need that money? Why didn't you ask me? Said Will, no longer so enthusiastic.

- If you really want my opinion Lara, looked down and continued, this place is not for you!

Silence.

There, I thought screaming inside me, I knew I shouldn't be here.

- I need the money to enter the apartment where I live, Will.

- You know, you know!

- It's the usual, there is never any money left to invest in me, I don't even know where I've been in the last ten years, I'm studying, I know, but that's not what I mean, I need to take care of myself, you know?

- No. Will said.

- I don't undertand, but anyway, now there's no time, you need to go up there and sing. Come on, come on, there's no more time.

As we were going through the dark corridor, with arrows of light, just enough not to trip over our own legs, I said to myself, don't stop, breathe, it's just a song, after all God won't care, you've sung so many sometimes, it won't go crazy now, hold the crying, breathe, come on, it's a thousand dollars, five minutes, what can go wrong?

We stopped.

In front of us was a 3-step ladder, up there Dyana looking beautiful, making her mess with the crowd, I can't believe she referred to me as the little church that comes to give us a little of the evil that is inside me, this is not me, oh she pays me, I should go!

- Lara, Lara, Lara ... screams!

- Will help me.

- Go up, walk, uhuuu beautiful, cat, you will rock! Screamed Will or Katerina.

I don't feel it, my legs, I'm going to trip over these heels, that skirt will just tear, who made these steps so narrow and high, then God help me and I promise never to put my feet here again, don't kill me, please don't fulmine me.

- Hi guys, I said on impulse, amid so much despair.

- Well, yes, ah, you can turn off the sound please.

- uhhhhhh, laughs, people screamed.

In a second in which I could observe, I saw young people, gay couples, transvestites, some were so drunk that they didn't even stop dancing, although the music had a pause to start mine.

I don't know how I thought I could do that, what a shame, what my pastors would say, and if there is someone I know, good in that case I will be sinning like me, but I sing in the praise of the church, oh my God, help me! I thought while changing the hand microphone to wipe them from the sweat that ran between my fingers, but this short skirt does not help, if Jesus returns now I am lost for all eternity, there will be no forgiveness for me, for, for, calm is just a music...

Introduction of music playing ...

- "I see you making mistakes and this is not a sin

Except when it makes someone else bleed

I see you dreaming and it scares you

Lost in a world that cannot be entered

You're leaving my life

And it looks like it will take

If you don't know how to get back, at least send news

Do you think I'm crazy

But everything will fall into place

I'm enjoying every second

Before this becomes a tragedy

And there's no use even looking for me

In other timbres, other laughs

I was here all the time

Only you didn't see

And there's no use even looking for me

In other timbres, other laughs

I was here all the time

Only you didn't see

You're always coming and going, all right

This time I already wore my armor

And even if nothing works

I'll be standing, chin up

Then you see me red and think it's funny

But I wouldn't look good on your bookshelf

I'm enjoying every second

Before this becomes a tragedy

And there's no use even looking for me

In other timbres and other laughs

I was here all the time

Only you didn't see

And there's no use even looking for me

In other timbres, other laughs

I was here all the time

Only you didn't see

Just for today I don't want to see you anymore

Just for today I will not take my dose of you

I'm tired of crying wounds that won't close

Don't heal (no)

And that abstinence an hour will pass."

- Thank's guys. Smile tight between teeth.

Forgive me, God, forgive me, I thought as I pressed the microphone to my chest and let's face it, that letter, why did I choose this damn song?

- uhuuu, devastated friend. Dyana came to the stage shaking the crowd, trying to excite me to stay on stage, already disapproving with my look of refusal and steps back towards the stairs.

I went down the stairs and even before I reached the floor I already had one of my sandals in my hands, I bent down to take the other off, when I saw Will, Katerina, weeping towards me in an attempt to help me pull the other pair that looked more like have stuck to my feet.

I went barefoot down the hall towards the dressing room, but if I had known I wouldn't have taken off my sandals, since it was full of liquid, which by God, I hope to be drunk, it must be beer, after all they stick to my feet, oh how disgusting, if it is urine or vomit, ahhh that corridor looked more like a path of germs and microbes that in my thoughts had already entered my feet and were already part of my bloodstream!

We closed the door, whew, I survived, I could still feel my heart beat so hard that the walk back almost overcame the despair of having sung that song, like a song, oh I don't even remember what I sang anymore.

- You were beautiful cat, shouted Katerina, surprising me with a peck in the mouth and a hug.

- Katerina, Will, I'm sorry, but I need to go home.

- Calm friend, you are at home, here you have everything you need, it was a success, it made me cry ...

- Please, I shouted interrupting your enthusiasm, I want to get out of here. And without realizing it, I was already crying compulsively.

- I shouldn't have come to that place, look at me, that gift was God who gave it to me and I shouldn't have ...

Stopped.

- Can you, who was now going to play a repentant Saint Magdalene? You came because you wanted to, nobody forced you and look, you rocked girl, you were beautiful on that stage, if you were me you would still be there shining.

- If you were me, you would understand .... I lowered my head and looked at my feet, dirty and burning, as if I had stepped on mud with broken glass.

- Look at me, better drink this water, enjoy it tonight, you won't leave, we need to catch up on the gossip, tell me everything, everything that has happened in your life.

- So take off that shit, I said pointing to the wig that didn't look so perfect that face hidden behind so much makeup, ahh why did you do that to you Will? I screamed without thinking of an insane and unexpected outburst.

But it was unexpected to see Katerina who seemed so determined, to disarm herself before my eyes, she lowered her eyes as if she were ashamed, with a stroke of her hand she pulled the wig off making it even more bizarre, because all I saw was a man with a woman's face, a den holding her short black hair, a bright red dress, stood out on her thick legs with a thin black stocking and a huge red platform.

He was there, wig in hand and head down.

- Can I take your makeup off? he said without thinking, trying to catch his breath to stop crying.

"You can, Lara, but I do it for you, because you don't understand, it's so easy to see things," said Will, sitting in jail where he had put on my makeup before.

- You speak as if I were a child, I understand yes, I mean I do not understand that you have become a woman, respect, but I do not understand, I know you, I know that you are not a woman, that you would be, you will be a great father and husband, after all ...

- And can I still be, if I go to church and be like the believers want me to be? Will said holding my hand before I even reached him with the cotton sponge to remove his makeup.

- No, I mean yes, well, you know it complicated things a lot, right, why are you practicing something and not just wishing, after all, when you decided that, you were normal a short time ago!

- ahhhhhh loud laughs, "normal" cat? look at the prejudice huh, don't forget that the abnormal here is you with this mania of wanting to live what people say to you, without really living what you feel.

- And how do you know what I feel? I live what the bible says, not what people tell me.

- Ah for Lara, we will not discuss religion again, I do not want to fight with you.

- Look, good, never mind, I was silent while using a lot of cotton to remove so much makeup...

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