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#bone's collar said gay rights
ghostwaffleheimer · 11 months ago
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It’s battle cat time
I added the mark I used to draw on Dovewing’s head a long time ago because I liked it and wanted it back
I have never actually drawn Bone before so uh this is my design for him I guess
I also put these on my RedBubble so here’s the links
Dovewing design
Bone design
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honeypirate · 12 days ago
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Dude Idfk lol I just like him. I have half a fic written about him and his jutsu’s too lmao.
Aoba Yamashiro x fem!reader drabble
Extra info; Just got to the land of lightning and traveling with them was exciting and reader and Aoba flirt all the time. Aoba thinks it’s just a game even though he has a lot of feelings for reader.
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“How’s he doing?” You ask Aoba after he leaves Gai’s room
“Still seasick” he says and you nod “that was my guess”
He smiles softly down at you as you make as much eye contact possible with his glasses. You bite your lip and his cheeks flush, making you smile wider.
“I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk with me” you said softly and he nods “shall we?” He asks and holds out his hand.
You lace your fingers through his with a smile, your heart racing. You’ve held hands before but never in a sweet way, it was making your cheeks warm as you walked out of the building
You watch Yamato go with Naruto go off to train so you walk in the other direction until you find a tree with white flowers. He reaches up and picks one of the flowers to put above your ear.
“You have to know by now” you whisper, eyes sparkling as you look into his dark shades, you can see how lovestruck you look reflected back to you, magnified by the sweet flower in your hair.
he chuckles “know what?” He says, fingers still in your hair
“How bad I’m dying to kiss you” you admit with shy smile, biting your bottom lip a little and your cheeks warm.
And that’s all it took, before you knew it you were pressed up against the side of the large tree trunk, your hands in his hair and your legs around his waist as his tongue wraps around yours as you kiss.
“I didn’t think..” he says and kisses you again “I thought that you didn’t..” he kisses you again and you giggle
he pulls back to speak again “I thought you didn’t want..” he starts but then his words fade away as he looks at you, hair messy, the flower stem clinging to a tangle it made below your ear now. Your lips were swollen as you smiled up at him, your sparkling e/c eyes and all the feelings in them.
He groans and delves back into your lips, your sweet kisses and soft plush lips were intoxicating, every time he tried to pull away to speak he had to go back for more. You giggle against his lips and kiss him back, hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, your tongue massaging his before you bite his bottom lip and then move, kissing down his neck
“What are you trying to tell me Aoba?” You whsiper into his left ear and your hands run softly down his hair and then around his neck to his collar bone as you continue kissing his jaw.
“Fuck” he whispers and tries to concentrate. He never thought he’d be so love drunk just off your kisses.
“I thought the flirting was just something for fun. I didn’t think you’d ever really like me” he confesses through heavy breathing and you pull back and cup his cheeks, looking into his sunglasses for a moment before you gently touch the edges
“May I?” You ask softly and he nods slowly
You pull them off gently and place them in one of his empty flax jacket pockets on his chest before cupping his cheeks again, staring into his eyes and gasping softly at what you see in them
He was beautiful, you never truly knew because his glasses made him always seem mysterious. The glasses hiding his every emotion that was shown in his eyes and on his face. Raw emotion that made your heart melt for him.
“Aoba” you whisper and he leans into your right palm
“This is so much more than just fun flirting” you whisper “you have my heart” you confess, your cheeks flushing under his sweet gaze.
He leans forward and captures your lips in a soft peck then whispers against your lips
“And you have mine”
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ancomaaron · 3 months ago
Can you share some of your Garron headcanons? I love them.
hell yeah. i'm not a headcanons guy so i don't know if these even count as headcanons in like a hc purism sense as much as they’re just various jumbled thoughts but Whatever:
- OK FIRST OF ALL something a lot of people look over about mystreet that is so integral to me. they’re all the worst. garron is terrible4terrible like obviously aaron is a serial killer but garroth is like a gay misogynist and probably worse to be around. aaron seems normal but is secretly terrible whereas garroth seems terrible but is secretly kind of normal TBH. but they are both terrible (said affectionately) basically this image
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- on the topic of serial killing garroth is an aaron apologist (me too bitch!!!) like when the woman he’s allegedly been in love with his entire life stabs her boyfriend under strange and shady circumstances he’s that’s so fucked up aaron i’m here to support you<3 but i KNOW he’s not going to give a fuck over aaron serial killing even though he was there to witness it.
- garroth thinks criticizing aaron’s actions would be unethical because aaron is mentally ill. he didn;t even tell garroth that he just clocked him. garroth is also mentally ill but has no capacity for self-reflection. they are both unmedicated #loveloses
- garroth and aaron don’t have nice dates at fancy restaurants garroth and aaron would go to olive garden so garroth can “”get in touch with his italian heritage”” and they get kicked out after aaron almost strangles the waiter also aphmau’s there, platonically, for some reason. she’s just always there. even outside of an aarothmau context she’s just like an obligatory third wheel but she’s not left out like she’s central to the dynamic but non-romantically. it’s like a tricycle
- they do family dinners at the ro’meaves sometimes and it’s the worst fucking thing of all time. imagine being garte’s son’s boyfriend and talking to him. he’s not even homophobic he’s just garte. once again aphmau is also there
- aaron is constantly impressed and extremely touched by inane stupid thing garroth says. like “i’m ambidexterous” “that’s what’s up man love who you love” and aaron gets genuinely choked up at the support. this is not healthy but garroth is too stupid to realize aaron is this starved for validation so it’s kind of a liminal space in their relationship
- garroth obviously pays for everything but aaron only buys bare bones shit he’s like wow i finally have five pairs of pants! :) aphmau also gets everything paid for by garroth but she buys fake fur huge sunglasses gold collar for celestia just absolute decadent bullshit. this is not me doing a misogyny at aphmau - she is the one in the right here, aaron SHOULD be scamming him. she tells him this. he still does not
- their relationship is actually pretty low-key like yes they are both cursed with protagonist disorder but a big appeal of their dynamic for me is them getting to just be Guys together. two dudes hanging out. obviously they get into shenanigans but i think most of the time they just like sit in the living room next to each other on their phones/reading and chillin. love language of proximity 
- i’m still a nonbinary aaron truther but i don’t think he would ever have the capacity to exist in a comfortable enough space to be able to think about it long enough to realize in canon. however if he did when he came out garroth would be like like Just found out about gender dysphoria :( damn that shit sucks. yes i am a cis garroth truther i don’t know why other transmascs claim him the ONLY context in which him being trans would be legit would be like that post where it’s like i want to be the world’s first transmasc absent father. i digress
- on a more biographical level i hc them as both 6′2″ (garroth’s hair makes him seem a bit taller). i see garroth as bisexual, white italian, and whatever the mystreet equivalent of irene-catholic is. i see aaron as gay, filipino, and whatever the mystreet equivalent of jewish is (he converted after university)
i have a playlist of them that covers a lot of the dynamicisms pretty well. also here are some edits i made of images that remind me of them
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larry-hiatus · 3 months ago
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True Directions - Chapter Fifteen
Here it is! I’ve had the second half of this chapter written for a while, so it’s nice to finally post it haha. Let me know what you think!
Read all parts here.       Read it on ao3.
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“You know what I miss?” Louis prompted from where he sat at the desk in the boys’ cabin. It was just him and Harry in the room, with Niall having gone off to shower and Liam and Zayn not yet back from the therapist’s office. “Me mum’s cooking.”
“Oh, me too!” Harry agreed! He was sprawled out on his bed with a book, deciding to read a bit until lights out. As much as he’d rather have been taking advantage of their time alone, he knew that a counselor would be around for cabin check soon. He guessed their kisses would have to wait until later when they were snuggled together in his bed. 
“You don’t even know my mum,” Louis teased, turning to grin at Harry. “When did you try her cooking?” Harry gave him a look like he was pretending to be annoyed. 
“I meant my own mum, you arse.” Louis snickered before turning back to the desk. He had his workbook and various papers spread out in front of him, trying to review his notes and all of the work he had done so far while at the camp. “What I wouldn’t do for a bowl of spaghetti right about now.”
“Mm, I was thinking more along the lines of a nice roast,” Louis said, thumbing through some pages. “But I’d settle for anything besides the junk they’ve been feeding us.” Harry nodded, though Louis’ back was to him. 
“They rarely give us anything good. They didn’t even let us toast marshmallows over the fire the other night!”
“Oh, I would die for a marshmallow right now,” Louis said dramatically. It was a few hours past dinner, but the boy felt like he was starving again. One thing he certainly was not getting used to at camp was the lack of snacks. The staff had them on a strict three meal schedule with very little wiggle room, and Louis was used to having constant access to the fridge when he was home. 
Harry giggled before shifting to reach into the suitcase under his bed. “Would you settle for a Twinkie?” Louis spun around in his chair to meet Harry’s eyes, which were sparkling mischievously as he held up the wrapped snack cake. 
“Where did that come from?!” the older boy demanded, shocked to find that Harry had just materialized it out of nowhere. “I haven’t had a Twinkie since they served them to us the first day here!” He got up from the desk and scurried over to Harry, plopping down next to him as his friend began opening the treat. 
“I know,” Harry said with a laugh, breaking the cake in half to share with Louis. “I kept mine and snuck it back here.” He took a bite of the piece he kept for himself. 
“And you’ve been holding out on me all this time?!” Louis mumbled cheekily around the food in his mouth. Harry chuckled with a shrug as they continued to eat their snack. 
“You know,” Louis said a few moments later as he popped the last of the sweet in his mouth. “Twinkies are a pretty ironic thing for them to give us here.” Harry cocked his head. 
“Why’s that?” he asked, crushing up the wrapper and hiding it back in his suitcase. 
“Because twinks are what they call young boyish gay guys, and that’s what this camp is full of!” Louis shrieked, grabbing his stomach as he laughed. 
Harry laughed too before adding to the metaphor. “Plus, Twinkies look like dicks, and they’re full of cream!”
Louis snorted. “Not sure what dicks you’ve been looking at, but mine definitely does not look like a Twinkie.”
”Prove it,” Harry said flirtatiously, a reckless glint in his eye. Louis stopped laughing as he began blushing in the awkward silence that filled the room. Harry reached forward to playfully tickle Louis’ side, but Louis stood quickly and headed back to the desk. 
Harry sighed to himself as he was met with Louis’ back. The two had only fooled around together once, and for some reason, it seemed to Harry that Louis didn’t want to repeat it. Whenever Harry made a cheeky joke, Louis got weirdly quiet, and if Harry tried anything while they were kissing, Louis stopped him. 
Harry was never one to force someone to go further than they wanted to, but he couldn’t help but worry why Louis always shut him down when it seemed to have gone so well the first time. The curly-haired boy wondered if he was bad at it or if he had done something wrong. He decided that maybe now was the time to ask. 
“Have you seen this?” Louis spoke before Harry could open his mouth. He turned back to Harry with a piece of paper that he had just retrieved from the folder they were given their first day. “There’s a mixer next week.” 
Harry furrowed his brow. “A mixer? With whom?”
“Apparently there’s a camp like this for girls down the road,” Louis read. It hadn’t occurred to either boy that there were girls like them trying to become straight, but Louis supposed that it made sense. Girls could be gay too, and there must be parents who weren’t happy about it or girls who chose to try and change. “Apparently we’re each getting paired with someone to take part in camp activities together.”
“Ew,” Harry exclaimed. “Like a weird arranged marriage.” He didn’t like the idea of this mixer at all. He could only imagine the types of activities they would have to do. Would they be forced to hold hands? Would they have to kiss? He made a mental note to ask Zayn about it later. His roommate was always good at giving some insight as to what to expect since he had been through it all so many times before. 
A moment later, Liam burst into the cabin. 
“Hey, Liam,” Louis said, tucking his papers back into his folder. “Where’s Zayn?” 
Liam stormed over to his dresser, angrily opening the top drawer and tearing clothes out of it. “Who cares?” The other two boys exchanged a confused glance and then watched in awkward silence as Liam threw his clothing into his suitcase. 
“What are you doing, mate?” Harry dared to question. The scene somewhat reminded him of when he had packed his own bag after a therapy session. It wasn’t quite as packed anymore; he had pulled a clean outfit out of it every day in the morning, so his bag was looking a bit empty these days. Harry would fill it again though. Eventually. He still wanted to leave. He wondered if Liam was packing for the same reason. 
“I’m switching cabins,” Liam stated matter-of-factly. “It’s been real, lads, but I have to move on.” Louis frowned, rather confused by Liam’s words. Was cabin switching even allowed? He knew there was another cabin of sixteen-year-olds that Liam could maybe swap with. Did that mean they would get a new roommate? Louis quite liked the dynamic that the five of them had built together, and he didn’t know how someone new would fit in. 
“Now?” Louis questioned. “It’s late. The other cabins are probably settled in already.” Liam paused, considering this. He honestly didn’t want to spend one more minute in the same space as Zayn, and he knew that the darker boy would be back at any minute. His friend did have a point though. 
“Stay the night, at least,” Harry said, trying to sound convincing. “You can talk to the head counselors tomorrow about switching.”
Liam huffed a sigh, kicking off his shoes. “Fine.” He walked to the light switch and flipped it off, leaving his friends in the dark, before he climbed into his bed. If he had to share a bunk with Zayn one more time, he would make sure he was asleep before he got back and out of there before Zayn woke up in the morning. 
~
“What do you mean you kissed him?”
Zayn ignored the voice in his ear that was coming from the boy he was currently wrapped around, a lad named Grayson from the cabin next to his. They stood by the wall inside one of the bathrooms, involved in what Zayn was hoping would turn into something more than just necking. He was in desperate need of a shag, a blow, a distraction, and while Grayson wasn’t necessarily his first choice, Zayn figured this was better than nothing. The two had hooked up the year prior, and it was nice to have a familiar body to fondle. 
Zayn didn’t answer the lad’s question, instead choosing to continue sucking against Grayson’s neck, careful not to leave a visible mark that would get him in trouble. He hadn’t meant to tell Grayson about his kiss with Liam, and he certainly hadn’t meant to tell him at this exact moment, but Grayson was always chattering away, and he’d asked why Zayn seemed so off. 
“I kissed Liam,” Zayn had said, not thinking clearly, instantly regretting it the second the words left his mouth. It wasn’t that he was worried that Grayson would tell or even that he’d get jealous. It was just not something Zayn was planning on telling anyone, and it definitely wasn’t the kind of thing he’d meant to season their foreplay with. 
“Liam Liam?” Grayson asked, as if to clarify who Zayn was talking about. “The nervous lad from your cabin?” His hands were lazily dragging through the hair at the back of Zayn’s head as he spoke. 
“Yeah,” Zayn replied quickly, his own hands clawing up the back of Grayson’s shirt as his lips moved to mouth at his mate’s collar bone. 
“When?” 
Zayn huffed with annoyance, his hot breath bouncing off of Grayson’s skin and hitting his own face. “Earlier,” he said, wishing the kid would shut up already. “Now would you hush?” He reached down to fiddle with Grayson’s trousers in attempts to pull them open. 
“But,” Grayson protested as Zayn kissed back up his neck. “Why?” 
“Because I can’t concentrate while you’re talking,” he growled in Grayson’s ear. He was starting to remember why the two had only fooled around once the previous summer. 
“No,” Grayson corrected, shaking his head slightly. “I mean... Why’d you kiss Liam?”
Zayn halted his lips and hands with a deep exhale, resting his forehead against the boy’s shoulder. It was a damn good question, one that Zayn didn’t have an answer to. He hadn’t meant to kiss his bunk mate; he really hadn’t. But there was something about the way Liam’s hands clung to Zayn like he was the only thing keeping him together and the way Liam’s eyes twinkled in the moonlight (or maybe it was just his tears playing tricks)... Zayn had just been drawn to him as if he had jumped off a platform and was zip lining down a cable towards the other boy at rapid speed, unable to change directions before his lips met Liam’s. 
“I don’t know,” Zayn finally replied. “Because I’m a prat, probably.” He couldn’t deny that kissing Liam was incredibly stupid. It could ruin their friendship, the trust that Liam had built in Zayn, the progress that the quieter boy had made in coming out of his shell... From the slap that had landed across Zayn’s face, it was clear that the kiss had very quickly steered things south, and not in the way Zayn’s kisses normally did with other blokes. 
“Yeah, you are,” Grayson laughed,  agreeing that Zayn had been dumb. “Idiot.”
Zayn pulled his body away while shoving Grayson’s against the wall by his shoulders. “Are we doing this or not?” he asked, searching Grayson’s face to see if he was even the slightest bit interested in messing around. 
Grayson bit his lip as a grin spread across his face, his expression teasing Zayn in a way that made him want to scream with frustration. “Alright,” the boy said flirtatiously as he tugged at Zayn’s belt loops, pulling their hips together. He breathed against Zayn’s lips daringly. “If you insist.” 
Zayn hummed lowly with satisfaction but covered it up by clearing his throat. “Good,” he hissed, biting his friend’s jaw as he jammed his hand down Grayson’s pants.
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omniscientoranges · 3 months ago
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You Look the Type
Dean and Cas experience a microagresssion (sorta) at the local one star hotel
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[ao3]
"Just the one bed, then?"
"Excuse me?"
Dean and Cas are on a case. Alone. Well, not technically alone, since there's two of them, but it feels alone since Sam isn't there. He'd stayed behind at the bunker mumbling something about atrocious filing systems and easy salt and burn and you guys go I'm busy here.
Which is how Dean and Cas find themselves standing in a seedy motel lobby where the guy checking them in just had the balls to ask:
"One bed? For you and your-" the clerk gestures over to Cas. The implication is clear, you and your boyfriend, you and your partner, you and your husband.
Dean stutters, "My, oh. Oh, I- um, I- no. No. We're not uh- we're not," Dean rapidly flaps one hand between the two of them, "we're just, just-"
"Dean's straight." Cas cuts in, pointedly, but with an edge to it that makes Dean's brow furrow and his head turn in Cas' direction. "Now can we get our keys or not?"
"Yes, sir. Sorry for assuming," front desk guy says, looking wide-eyed and embarrassed.
Cas just waves his hand and walks off and out of the lobby.
Dean stands, mouth open and staring at the spot where Cas just was. If this were a few years ago it would almost be reminiscent of the times Cas would fly away mid-conversation. But if this were a few years ago, Dean wouldn't have been flustered enough about it to even be having this conversation (not that he wouldn't have been flustered, but there are certain feelings about a specific someone he'd developed since then that made this hit way too close to something he didn't want to think about). Dean blinks and looks over at the clerk, then immediately does a heel turn and marches off towards Cas, burying his red face in the collar of his jacket.
Cas had already grabbed their bags from the trunk of the Impala and pushed into their room in the time it took Dean's brain to reboot enough to engage in higher functions such as "walking" and "breathing normally" and "not having a face comparable to an over-ripe tomato".
Dean slots his key into the door and turns it, willing his heartbeat to slow the fuck down, please. He opens the door and is met with Cas standing next to one of the beds hastily taking his shirts out of his duffle bag and throwing them down with a rustle and a soft thud, one on top of the other. They'd finally gotten Cas to start switching up his outfit every now and again, so at least he's stress unpacking his own clothes and not Dean's (which really isn't so far out of the realm of possibility for him).
Cas moves with an urgency and an energy that tells Dean he definitely should not, under any circumstances, open his mouth and say a single word for at least the next hour. Maybe even for the rest of the night.
Dean, never being one to take a hint, opens his mouth anyway.
"Cas, hey," Dean rubs his hand over the back of his neck jesus, man, when'd I become such a wimp around him? I'm acting like a schoolgirl with a crush, get it together. "Uh, about that, it happens sometimes. Not a big deal. People are just, I dunno, they like to act like they know something about you when they really have no idea. Don't let it bother you."
Cas throws another shirt on the bed, "I'm not bothered by it."
"Really? 'Cause I think your clothes would disagree," Dean gestures to the pile of now wrinkled shirts on Cas' bed. Cas arches an eyebrow at them, like he's only just realized what he'd been doing. He tosses the pair of pants already in his hands onto the shirts and walks in a huff in Dean's direction. Dean's heart jumps into his throat before he realizes Cas isn't moving toward him, but toward the door behind him.
"Cas, wait," Dean grabs Cas' elbow when he tries to brush past him. Cas' hand stills outstretched on the doorknob in front of him, stopping at the touch even though he could easily shrug Dean off. That's become a staple of their relationship - Cas letting Dean do things to him he'd refuse outright on principle from anyone else. He angles his head at Dean but, uncharacteristically, doesn't meet his eye.
Dean stows his crap, takes a chance, and asks, "Just now, why'd you say- you said Dean's straight." He winces slightly at the awkwardness of referring to himself in 3rd person, but that hardly cracks the top 10 most awkward moments of the whole last 15 minutes.
"Because you are." Cas answers simply, even though he knows it doesn't exactly get at Dean's point.
"Right." Dean swallows down the urge to correct him with an actually, funny thing is, I don't really think I am. "But you could've just said, you know, we're straight. But you said I am - specifically. Why is that?"
"Dean," Cas says, in a tone that should be accompanied by an eyeroll, but one look at his actual expression betrays a bone deep worry that he isn't able to mask. "Do I really need to answer that question? Can't you figure that out for yourself?"
"I'd like for you to tell me instead of me assuming and getting it wrong."
Cas sighs and drops his hand from the doorknob.
"What would you like me to say, Dean?" Cas says as he walks over to sit on the edge of his bed, nudging the clothes pile over. "That I'm gay? I would say that, but I'm an angel. We're different from humans. I'm different from you." Cas says that last sentence in a way that suggests there's more wrapped up in it beyond angel vs. human perspectives on sexuality. But they don't really have time to get into all that at the moment.
Dean plops down next to Cas on the bed, and the old springs creak under the added weight. "Yeah, I know angels are different or whatever, but it's just- you've never shown any um, interest in dudes. Not that I've seen at least. I mean, Cas, if I would've known I wouldn't have been trying to set you up with chicks all these years. No wonder you didn't ever really seem into them," Dean lets out a small laugh, "thought you were just shy."
"Yeah, well, that too," Cas adds, with less worry creased into the lines on his face and a bit more levity. He's finally looking over at Dean now, but he's got a vulnerable look in his eyes that almost makes Dean wish he was still looking away.
"But Dean, I- that's not exactly accurate."
Dean's heart rate picks up again, traitor, "What do you mean?"
Still vulnerable, and back to looking worried too, Cas says, "I have shown interest in "dudes", as you put it, though you are right to say you haven't noticed it."
Dean's heart is full on slamming against his ribcage now, and in his hysterics his mind briefly flashes to the case they worked where a guy's heart literally beat out of his chest. He hopes there aren't any psychic Looney Tunes fans in a 15 miles radius, or this will be an embarrassing death experience to explain to Sam later.
Dean puts on some of his battle worn false confidence, "Yeah? Who's the lucky guy?"
Cas tilts his head and smirks, "Would you like me to tell you, or would you like to assume?"
"Tell me?"
Cas opens his mouth but stops short and looks down, weaving his fingers together and focusing on his stretched palms in his lap.
"Cas?"
"Promise you won't be angry with me?"
The way Cas says that makes Dean's heart ache. Like he's expecting Dean to be angry with him, even if he promises not to be.
"I'd never be angry with you."
Cas huffs out a weary laugh, "Well, we both know that's not true."
Dean's heart aches again, practically just shatters into pieces. Because Cas is right. Dean can't promise he won't ever be mad at Cas ever again (even though he wishes he could), but he can promise this. He can promise he won't be mad about this.
Dean leans down slightly until he's able to catch Cas' eye so he'll look at him again, "I promise not to be angry." Hold on, that's way too earnest. He quickly adds, "Even if it's Sam. Though, I'd probably question your taste in men. I know he's tall, Cas, but there's better fish in the sea, okay? Trust me."
Cas smiles faintly and shakes his head, "It's not Sam."
"Good choice."
Cas takes a nervous breath out, "You. It's you."
You.
"Me?"
Me.
"Yes."
Oh shit.
"Dean, it's alright, I know you don't-"
Dean, on adrenaline fueled oh my god he likes me he likes me wait- does he love me? Holy shit what if he loves me autopilot, crashes him lips into Cas'. Once his brain catches up with his body, Dean pulls back.
"I- Dean-"
"Sorry, sorry, that was-"
"I thought you didn't-"
"I shouldn't have- I should've asked-"
"But I thought you were-"
"Now who's assuming?"
They stop and look at each other rather than continue their litany of unnecessary apologies. One breath, two, three, four.
Then they both burst out laughing.
Dean reaches forward and puts a hand on Cas' knee to stabilize himself, and Cas lifts his right hand up to fit against Dean's shoulder. They both fold hard into each other until the laughter dies down, and when it does Cas moves his free hand to cup the line of Dean's jaw. Dean closes his eyes and leans into it.
"So," Cas hums, "not straight, then?"
Dean smiles, "No, no definitely not." And, just for fun (and just to make absolutely sure), "You?"
Cas drops forward until his forehead rests against Dean's, "No, definitely not."
After the case, they stop at a different motel on the way back. Only this time they don't correct the clerk when they ask if they'll be sharing just the one bed.
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smashmouth-hargrove · 3 months ago
That idea though is ✨
Okay but what if Steve, being in the midst of his own bisexual crisis, has a few of the same porn mags at home. Like he has them hidden in his dresser. Pretends to read them “for the articles” because it’s a manly thing to do.
So when Billy walks in and sees Steve, the gay porn mags and Steve holding said gay porn mags, his first response is fight because that’s what he does; he fights everytime. He yanks Steve up by the collar and shoved him against the wall and is like “If you tell ANYONE, harrington, I swear to Jesus, Mary and Joseph you will be in the ground somewhere and nobody will ever find you, got us shit for brains?”
And Steve, still holding the porn mag in his hand still, looks at him, sees the fear in his eyes and for once, is able to connect the very obvious dots together. Just swallows and wiggles the pages in his hand at Billy, says softly, “The center spread really is great in this edition.. have—have it at home.”
And Billy’s eyes narrow, trying to get what the fuck Steve is getting at. But then Steve gives him a small serious smile and Billy let’s go. It has to be some fucking joke. The guy who Billy has had very very gay thoughts about for months is sitting here, telling him that the centerfold spread of a handsome blonde surfer is great.
Like, this can’t be happening. Billy is never lucky.
But he lets Steve go, very quietly watches him as he takes the magazine from Steve like he’s a mouse trap about to snap on him if he moves to quickly. And Steve let’s him, keeps his distance for a moment.
“If you tell anybody—“
“I won’t.” Steve says, “Promise.”
And then Billy let’s Steve sit back down and they awkwardly work on their assignment. The next day, Billy is happy to find that nobody at school has heard about how much of a queer he is. Steve seems to have kept his promise.
It gets better when he finds a note with familiar slanted handwriting in his locker.
/Under the Bleachers, 2nd hour, meet me. — S./
UH, Y E S
But now you’re also making me think about what happens when they meet under the bleachers sooo....
(Just a fair warning for smut since idk how to put a cut on an ask on mobile lmao)
------
Billy thinks it must be a mistake.
‘Under the bleachers, 2nd period, don’t be late~ S.H.’
Surely this was meant for somebody else, some girl. His locker was right next to Jody Wilson’s if he remembered right, and he was pretty sure Rebecca Holmes was the next one over. It must be for one of them he though.
Then, he remembered what had happened last night, something he had tried to hard to forget. The gay porn magazines. He cringed just thinking about it, the way he had walked in on Steve holding one from the stack he kept hidden for his eyes only. But Steve had mentioned something, something about owning the exact same one and loving the spread on page eleven.
But it couldn’t be. Steve didn’t- Steve wasn’t- This had to be some kind of crazy dream that he would wake up from. either that or it was a ploy or get him under the bleachers so him and Tommy H. could beat the shit out of him. Probably that one.
Though, he couldn’t help but think that maybe it was worth the risk, that maybe the reward, if it meant what he wanted it to mean, would be better than the punishment. Plus he could totally take Steve and Tommy if they did decide to pull anything.
That’s how he found himself walking to the football field instead of his second period pre calculus class. He had his hands in the pockets of his jean jacket, fidgeting with the notebook paper the note was written on as he got closer and closer.
He thought about turning back many, many times, but never found the strength in him to actually do it.
When he got close enough he tried to lay as low as possible, not wanting to be caught by the coach on his way under the bleachers. He was sure that if he was caught nothing would happen because he and the coach both knew if he got caught he would likely get some sort of punishment resulting in suspension from the team and neither of them wanted that. But, still, better safe than sorry.
Under the bleachers was rather snug, not so much that he had to fully bend over, but he was definitely a little hunched dodging beams and such.
Part of him though that when he arrived and Steve was no where in sight that it was a prank, that he wasn’t going to come and instead laugh about how red Billy’s cheeks and ears were form the cold next period and never let him live down his shame.
But, suddenly, while e was zoned out, a pair of hands were pushing against his chest and he was falling to the ground with a hefty ‘Thud!’
“Hey, what the-” he tried to question, only to be cut off by Steve’s lips pressed against his, tongue hungrily trying to wedge it’s way past his lips.
Billy hummed in protest, but only for a second before he found himself melting right into the warmth of the kiss. As much as he wanted to pretend that he didn’t want what Steve was doing, it’s what he’d been wanting for months. Steve’s chilled hands pressing up under the thin fabric of his button-up, their lips moving in sync like they were always made to be put together.
It wasn’t until he felt Steve humping the thigh of his jeans was it that he stopped for a moment.
“Fuck, Steve, we can’t,” he mumbled, pressing against Steve’s shoulder until they were both sitting up. Steve’s face was flushed red, lips plump and slick with spit, eyes wide with wonder. He honestly didn’t think he would ever forget that face.
“What? Why not?” Steve asked, the slightest bit of anger in his tone from not getting just what he wanted. Billy narrowed his eyes before speaking again.
“I don’t wanna bone just because I’m the only other damn gay guy that you know,” he said, knowing for a fact that what he was saying made sense, even if it didn’t come out right.
That’s when an unexpected grin spread across Steve’s face.
“Who says your my only option?” he asked, knowing that Billy wouldn't be able to resist questioning further.
“Who else?” Billy asked almost possessively, even though him and Steve had barely even messed around he still felt almost entitled in a way.
“Let’s just say, I didn’t get the title of King Steve without taking a few loads in my day,” Steve said with a shrug and Billy pounced, couldn’t hold back anymore.
He locked his lips with Steve to shut him up, didn’t wan to hear anymore. One hand pressed firmly against Steve’s shoulder and the other traveled down to unbutton his own jeans. He could feel his dick throbbing already, pulsing against the tight fabric of his jeans like a caged animal ready to be released. From the feel of Steve against his thigh he seemed to be the same.
Before he could even think about what he wanted to do he had the shaft of Steve’s cock in the palm of his hand, the head of his own pressed just under Steve’s.
He pulled away from Steve’s lips just in time to hear him release the most pornographic, unashamed moan he’d ever heard in his life, dick kicking in his hand, pre forming into a little pearly white bead at the tip. Billy groaned himself, rubbing the head of his cock against Steve’s shaft, teasing them both.
Steve made a lot of noises he didn’t even know he could possibly make. A lot of whines and high pitched moans, but that didn’t mean they weren’t beautiful, weren’t music to his ears.
He quickly changed his grip, grasping the sides of both of their dicks, wrapping his hand around as much as possible and pumping. He wished he hand a hand to cover Steve’s mouth because he was loud, hopefully not loud enough to get them caught.
“You like that princess?” he coos, giving them both a particularly harsh tug. Steve keened, arching his back into it, “Better than any of those other dogs, could give you, I guarantee it.”
Steve was just a stuttering, stumbling mess of cut off words he couldn’t quite make out, but didn’t need to hear them anyways.
Billy leaned back down to attack Steve’s neck, licking and sucking plum colored hickeys onto the sensitive skin. He was half sure that Steve would kill him for that later, but he wasn’t focused on later, he was focused on here and now.
What was happening shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, much to dry and rough but also perfect. Billy came in record time, but Steve still shot off first with a scrunched up face and decrescendoing groan of release.
Once it was all said and done Billy rolled off of Steve with a soft ‘oof’ hands resting on his clothed chest, not even paying attention to the mess they’d both made on their shirts. More Steve’s than his own, but still.
“Jesus,” Billy panted not really knowing where the surge of possessive dominance came from, but also not complaining about the result.
When he looked over at Steve he was already zipping up and buttoning his pants.
“Wha-?” Billy started, propping himself up on his elbows.
“Meet me at your car in five minutes,” he said hurriedly as he walked backwards away from him, “Need to try what the guys were doing on page seventeen of issue four.” He finished off his sentence with a wink, and Billy assumed it was more of a command than an offer, but he wasn’t going to deny it either way.
(Sorry this took so long and is short and sloppy I’ve been hella busy lately, but thank you so much for sending this in!! 💗)
Send me hc’s!! 💛💛
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ilikeyoshi · 4 months ago
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i officially completed stormblood and confirmed y'shtola is fit for travel and whatnot pre-shadowbringers so NOW...... ppl get to deal w this self indulgent thing i wrote weeks ago but didnt want to post until i knew what was up w her
anyway y'shtola and l'aia are gay and bad at just becoming official girlfriends (also cw for naked ladies but its not like That)
————
"Okay, so I need you to just hold my hand and..."
"My, isn't that forward?"
"I—I swear it is important! Just trust me, Shtola."
Y'shtola smiled wryly at the rapidly flustering miqo'te beside her. At last, she deigned to lower her hand into L'aia's.
"Very well," Y'shtola teased. "But are you going to tell me where you intend to take me? And why you must hold my hand?"
She couldn't help poking fun at L'aia's shyness. The woman was pink in the face, her ears turned all the way backwards and pinned flat to her head. It was endearing to Y'shtola! The venerated Warrior of Light, fretting about an old friend's teasing.
"I am taking us through an aether current," L'aia said, fighting back a pout. "One you have not been across. Probably."
"I did cross many streams after our grand escape from Ul'dah."
"Not this far, I promise."
Y'shtola raised an eyebrow, her curiosity officially piqued. L'aia sighed, soothing herself, and then smiled brightly.
"Ready?"
"I certainly hope so."
Yet knowing the task ahead of them, Y'shtola made sure to hold tightly onto L'aia's aetheric presence with her own. Taking someone through an unfamiliar aetheryte wasn't easy, but Y'shtola trusted L'aia's calculations like no other. If she believed she could do it, then she could. That was ever the secret of the Warrior of Light.
Limsa Lominsa began to disappear around them. Y'shtola felt the familiar weightlessness of traversing the aetheric seas, and focused with all her mind on the ribbon that was L'aia. Soon enough, the world materialized again, but their destination was definitely not one Y'shtola recognized.
"Aia, what is...?"
A tiered, seaside city, with the most gorgeous architecture and fashion at every turn. Y'shtola put all of her power into seeing through her aetheric vision, taxing as it was, for she was determined to drink in every detail.
"Do you like it?" L'aia asked, her arms folded behind her back and her tail swishing eagerly.
"Where are we?"
"The city of Kugane," L'aia said. "Far, far across the sea."
Y'shtola finally understood. "Othard...?"
"That's it. I spent a lot of time here during the effort to liberate Lady Yugiri's homeland. I..."
L'aia's voice faltered. When Y'shtola turned back to her, she was looking away, shy again—no. Sad.
"I had caught myself wishing so many times you were with us," L'aia said. She braved a smile, looking back at Y'shtola again. "So I resolved that one day, when you were recovered, I would show it to you."
Y'shtola blinked. Rare was it that she could be stunned to silence, yet L'aia had that effect on her since the day they met. Y'shtola mustered a soft laugh, looking back at the beautiful city around them.
"It is... amazing," she said. She breathed in, and hummed with the exhale. "What is that smell?"
"Oh! Let's get lunch!" L'aia said. "I know a delicious restaurant!"
"Yes, please!"
L'aia took her hand, and together they sat in a serene restaurant. Y'shtola felt like she was inside of a painting. They ordered lots of sample plates, allowing Y'shtola to try a range of the cuisine Kugane had to offer. So many unique flavors and dishes. Y'shtola could feel her ears twitching in pure delight, and since she saw with her aether and not her eyes, it was easy to catch L'aia staring at and admiring her.
But their excitement didn't stop there. After lunch, L'aia led the way on a slightly scatterbrained, but very fun tour of the city. They stopped at a clothing store and bought outfits, window shopped through the markets, and cracked crude jokes about the abandoned, decrepit offices of the Garlean Empire.
Before she knew it, Y'shtola's aether was spent. A wave of dizziness overcame her; she stumbled, and was immediately caught and balanced by L'aia.
"Shtola! Are you all right?"
"Yes, I..." Y'shtola tried to bring the woman's face into focus, but it was no use. She was at the mercy of her blindness now. She sighed. "I may have overdone it a bit on the sightseeing."
L'aia quickly understood. She stayed right beside Y'shtola, always holding onto her and showing her where she could hang on if she needed support.
"I'm so sorry," L'aia said. "I should have—here, I know a place that will help."
Y'shtola hummed, and let L'aia pull her close to guide her through the streets. Y'shtola barely had room to mourn the loss of the gorgeous sights, when everything still smelled and sounded so wonderful.
More and more she leaned on L'aia. Her presence was soothing, and so very welcoming. Y'shtola couldn't help but long to be enveloped by it.
Her ears flicked to the sound of a paper door sliding open, and she felt the change of temperature as they entered a building. Despite her fatigue, Y'shtola tried to listen as L'aia spoke with a man behind a desk, only to realize the language was not one Y'shtola knew.
Soon though, L'aia was leading her deeper into the building. Y'shtola laughed tiredly. "Curse the Echo. What I would not give to comprehend every language in existence."
L'aia laughed too. "It's pretty useful, I'll admit. Okay, we're here..."
As she said it, Y'shtola again felt the temperature change. A wave of hot, humid air washed over her, startlingly pleasant on her senses.
"A sauna?" she guessed.
"They're something else here," L'aia said. "There was hardly a bruise these waters couldn't soothe."
She helped Y'shtola find the edge of the water and sit down. Placing her feet in the water, Y'shtola groaned contently.
"Oh, it's divine."
"I told you." L'aia's grin was audible in her voice.
As Y'shtola relished the water at her ankles, she felt L'aia stand back up beside her. "You're leaving?"
L'aia's steps froze. "Um! Well, I thought you would want to—get in, you know, and I wanted to give you your privacy—"
Y'shtola hummed along, understanding. She patted the pool's edge next to her. "You deserve the respite too. Bathe with me. I do not mind you seeing me, and if you are concerned, I cannot see you right now."
It was true, even if Y'shtola could still feel the heat of L'aia's blushing face from her seat. She patted the stone ledge again.
"Please?"
Slowly, L'aia returned to her side. Y'shtola smiled, and began to disrobe. Whether L'aia was looking or not, she couldn't tell, but she felt her heart thrumming anyway, as her newly purchased kimono fell away. Her body bare, Y'shtola gently slipped fully into the water.
It was warm, so warm, but not at all uncomfortable. It felt so good on her skin, as she waded through it, running her hands along the surface. It was the softest, silkiest water she'd ever touched. She could feel a magical quality in it too, mending her over-exerted aether.
She heard a soft splash of water, and smirked at the sound of L'aia's happy sigh. "I told you you needed it," she teased over her shoulder.
"You had a point," L'aia allowed.
She too walked further into the pools, but Y'shtola could hear the shy tension in every step. After enough listening, she could tell L'aia's arms were wrapped across her chest; they were not touching or moving the water. It was, frankly, adorable.
Y'shtola didn't speak of it though, instead continuing to explore the water's surface with her hands. She breathed deep, relishing the comfortable air that filled her lungs.
"I could spend forever here," she sighed.
L'aia was beginning to relax. Her voice was looser, softer. "I'm so glad you finally get to experience it."
"You truly thought about me so much?" Y'shtola asked. It was a genuine question. "Even with so much on your mind, and so many obstacles ahead of you?"
"I did," L'aia said, the admission coming with surprising ease. "I... I was so worried about you, Shtola. About if, after so many months, I might come back to find out you were..."
Y'shtola genuinely hadn't expected the depths of L'aia's concern, and only now realized she should have. L'aia's heart bled like no other, and Y'shtola would be obtuse to not have noticed her heart bled a little extra for her.
"Aia..." When had they started calling each other such names? Their bond had grown so much, right under Y'shtola's nose.
"I'm sorry," L'aia said. "I don't mean to depress you. I..."
She trailed off, no doubt because Y'shtola had fully faced her. With the water at their waists and her chest bare, she could only imagine the kind of sight she was through L'aia's eyes. Her aether was healing rapidly, but she did not call on it to see, instead keeping her promise.
"Aia, I would... very much like to touch you."
"Touch—?"
Y'shtola spared a wry smile, only to immediately giggle at the audibly flustered squeak L'aia produced.
"If you would allow it," she added. "I... I want to know you. To know the heart that would think of me, even a world away."
She felt the nerves fading again. L'aia took in a breath, and Y'shtola heard the water shift with her approach well before she felt their hands touch.
Her fingertips lit up. L'aia's hands were calloused and scarred, but softened deeply by the healing waters around them. Y'shtola closed her fingers around those hands, brushing and caressing her skin, memorizing every detail. She explored higher, finding L'aia's wrists and trailing along them, up her arms, across her shoulders...
L'aia shuddered when Y'shtola's fingers touched her collar bone though, so Y'shtola stopped there. "If I am overstepping..."
"No," L'aia bit out; not mean, but very sweetly shy. "No, it's... I want you to."
There it was. A tiny confession, of nothing and yet everything. Y'shtola smiled, this time without a hint of teasing, and gently caressed L'aia's shoulders and collar. She was strong, yet so delicate.
But her fingers brushed something rugged in L'aia's sternum. Y'shtola stopped again, worry bubbling up in her, before memory crashed into place.
"Nidhogg," she whispered, mournful; sorry. "Hraesvelgr's eye..."
"It is not like Estinien's scars," L'aia gently reassured her. "Similar, but I—did not fight its influence the way he did."
Y'shtola carefully explored the scar in L'aia's chest. A long, gnarled thing, beginning right below her collarbone and descending just shy of where her breasts rose from her chest. Even with the dragon's eye returned to him long ago, the scar radiated faintly with his power. A permanent effect; another gift and burden on her dearest Warrior of Light.
"Does it hurt you?" Y'shtola asked.
"Sometimes," L'aia admitted. "Not as much as it used to. It was... I do not think I could have stopped Nidhogg any other way."
A worthy price to pay. Still, Y'shtola felt an ache in her heart, so unlike anything she'd experienced before.
"Aia," she breathed. "Would you touch me?"
L'aia tensed, but said nothing. As she relaxed again, Y'shtola heard her hands move through the water. They rested high on her chest, above the softest point. Y'shtola sighed, the feeling as wonderful as the water. L'aia too explored her scars, the nearly mortal gash of Zenos's blade through her body.
They had endured so much in so little time. Yet here, now, Y'shtola couldn't comprehend knowing L'aia any less than decades. A strange feeling, like deja vu. Could they have met before? Even before the Limsa kidnappings? Y'shtola could not reason how, yet the idea felt more like a revelation; a truth uncovered.
"Shtola," L'aia murmured. "What... do we call this?"
Y'shtola smiled, gentle and just a bit mischievous.
"How about... a beginning?"
She could hear L'aia smiling again.
"A beginning. I... I like that."
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napsor4 · 4 months ago
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What am I feeling? Am I in love with my best friend?
I’m turning to Reddit because I have no one else to speak to about this. I changed the names in this posting as I don’t want to give real names. My best friend is Erik. I met Erik at university 5 years ago - we took the same politics class and I sat beside him during the first class for someone to talk to. We seemed to instantly hit it off. He was listening to music and I asked what was in his playlist. He said U2, Coldplay, Greenday and Smashing Pumpkins. I said to him “dood we are going to be best friends” (this is my genre I enjoy). For the most part we were acquaintances initially - but later on in that semester I’d see him hanging out at the university commons by himself listening to music. We started to hang out more and more. Turns out he we both like basketball so we’d go to the gymnasium that was empty most times and just shoot one on one hoops. During one session he said I should join him for a beer that night at an Irish pub he frequents and I said sure. We met around 7:00 PM and found a table in the corner. I’m not even sure when the band started playing music as we talked and talked for hours. Before we knew it, it was 2:00 AM and the place was closing down. From that day we started texting and hanging out together. On weekends we’d take day trips out to the country to check out falls, forests, out of the way towns. At that point I didn’t care where we were going as I thoroughly enjoyed just the talks we had about everything under the sun. We had 2 passions we shared, the love of travel and human rights. We were both “worldly” and had silly plans to travel the world spreading the message of peace on our way. About 8 months into our friendship, my dad fell ill suddenly. He was in and out of hospital and Erik was always there for me and my family. He would make meals and bring them over and even stay with my mom hour upon hour at the hospital, even when I was unable to be there. My dad‘s prognosis wasn’t good and he was in the hospital for 4 days. I remember talking to Erik at the nursing station and my sister came out of my dad’s room white as a ghost and I knew what was happening by the look on her face. She said “it’s time”. Erik wrapped his arm around my back and we walked into the hospital room. We just stood there holding my dad’s hand, my sister saying “it’s ok dad, it’s ok to go, we are all here.” The time between my dad’s breath drew longer, until he took his last breath. It was so surreal, everybody sobbing. I looked around the room, I could see my mom, brothers and sisters - and Erik. A guy I met 8 months earlier is part of my family’s most intimate and trying moment. I looked at him tears running down his face comforting my sister. I knew then he was a special life long friend. From there our friendship grew, he was like a brother to me. Over the next several years we took 6 trips to Europe - travelling to Spain, Portugal, Italy, Switzerland, Greece, Czech Republic, Germany and France. Two years ago I met my girlfriend Becca. She is gorgeous, happy go lucky, kind, amazing sex - everything I want in a GF. I think we are the perfect match. She gets along great with Erik and even accompanied us on a couple trips to Europe. Last year she broached the subject of marriage. I was over at some buddies house for the game and I told them I could potentially see myself getting married. He laughed and said “what is you male wife going to think of that?” I asked what he meant by that. He responded saying “nothing” and laughed. I asked what’s so funny. He said “you realize Erik is gay right?” My response was like “no he’s not, why do you say that?” My buddy said “are you shittin’ me right now, you seriously don’t know this?” My buddy started texting our other mutual friend, and he got a text with a pic. It was a torso on Grindr and he showed me. I immediately noticed a distinct birthmark under the collar bone Erik has. I was in shock and stunned, not that he’s gay, but that this is not something he shared with me before seeing how we became so close. We talked about females before, but I really couldn’t remember any details of our conversation. He’s never had a GF but for some reason I thought he had female friends he’d hook up with as he had a lot of female friends. Over the next few weeks I purposely asked some pointed questions about his female friends or sex and his answers amounted to non-answers. I felt disappointed he couldn’t tell me when he had an opportunity to do so. I started to wonder if my other buddy did the Grindr pic as a joke and maybe he really didn’t have a profile. Then I thought if he was gay why didn’t he “come on to me” after all these years. When I thought back about our friendship, there were some moments I’d call “intimate” where I feel maybe I conflated brotherly love with actual gay love. We were in southern Spain in a rented villa in the hills overlooking the sea west of Barcelona. I could feel a little raised bump on my scalp on the top of my head but I was unable to see it. He was sitting on the couch watching sports on TV and I asked him to look at it. He was fingering through my hair looking for it. I commented this reminds me of being a kid you’d lay your head on your school desk and the teacher would come around with toothpicks to look for lice. He laughed and put a pillow on his lap and said to put my head down. As he watched the game he rubbed my head gently as I laid on the coach. Normally I’d be freaked out about this kind of intimacy with a guy, but I had overwhelming feelings of being safe and “at home”. It reminded me of my dad - he would rub my head too while he watched his TV. I remember distinctly a song that was streaming on the iPad low level - it was a German radio station for some reason that played soft pop - the song was so mellow and I thought I don’t want this moment to end. (I researched name of song and it was “Open” by Rhye). This lasted a good 45 minutes before he popped up and said he needs to start lunch. That’s another thing, he always prepared beautiful suppers for us as he loved cooking. Another time we stayed in a remote cottage on the lake. We had just watched the horror movie with Jason and I was freaked out afterwards because the area we stayed in had a serial killer 20 years prior. And with perfect timing we heard the gas generator go out and the lights went out. He went outside of the cottage and I could hear him trying to restart it but without success. I went to the back bedroom window to look out to see whats going on. Just at that moment he jumped in front of window slamming his hands on it yelling to scare me. I’ve never felt fright in my life before that time, but I definitely felt it in that moment. He came back into the cottage with a flash light and came right over to me. My upper torso was rocking back and forth uncontrollably. He gave me a big hug (you could feel his strong arms) and he rubbed my back and said “I’m so sorry cutie, you’ll be fine.” It wasn’t until we were driving home the next afternoon I thought geez he called me cutie, but dismissed it. That night I was so scared I insisted on sleeping in the same bed up against the wall. We slept in the same bed before many times traveling, but there was never any physical touching. In the morning I remember waking up to the sound of a loon on the lake at dawn. Another time we were camping in a remote area - when we arrived in his truck we discovered I forgot the mattress pump and some of the snacks for hiking. Then the worst part was I accidentally locked his keys in the truck. A park ranger had to be called to enter the truck. That weekend I didn’t do anything right and basically ruined the trip. When we left it was a long drive down a dirt road and I knew he could tell I was upset about the weekend. On the drive he took his hand and put it on mine, lifted it up and placed it on the gear shift and gave it a big squeeze and continued to hold it for a couple of minutes. There was only one time I felt something sexual from him. We were in Lake Como, Italy at an Airbnb with a beautiful view. He was messaging a lot on his phone, more than usual. He put the phone down on the coffee table and left the room. I grabbed the phone to hide it. When he came back in the room he asked where his phone was and I said I hid it because he’s spending too much time on it. He went from zero to angry instantly and demanded it back. I’ve never seen him angry since we met. His default it’s affable, laughing, expressive eyes and kind. I’ve never seen him act like that before. I tried to joke and said you’ll have to come get it. He thought I put it in my clothing but I really stuffed in under the couch cushion. As I lay there he poking and jostling with me and at one point is basically laying on top of me. For literally 2 seconds he looked me right in the eye and I could feel his body tense up and his hips pushed down on my pelvis area. I gave him the phone and said “here you go you big baby” and he stormed off. I felt in the moment like what just happened?? I dismissed it because overall I never felt anything about him was gay. Fast forward to his Grindr profile, about 6 months later we took a trip Barcelona, Prague and Berlin. After supper we went down to the beach. It was almost a full moon and the water was completely lit up white. For a long time I planned for this moment - I was going to ask him. We sat there drinking a beer staring at the water for a good 1/2 hour saying nothing. The time had come. I felt every breath I took I couldn’t get any oxygen and my heart was racing. I finally got the nerve and my voice shakingly asked “are you gay?” There was no response, just dead silence for 20 minutes. I thought he was taking the time to think what to say. Then Erik said he’s heading back to the Airbnb, completely ignoring my question. It’s at that moment it was confirmed for me. About 3:00 in the morning my bedroom door of the Airbnb opened and there was a faint knock. He asked in a soft voice if I was awake. I said yes. Erik said “the answer is yes.” There was a pause then he quietly shut the door. I felt relief, but wondered if I should go talk to him. I didn’t. I purposely acted as nothing happened as we toured around, leaving it to him to talk to me when he felt comfortable. A few days later we were on the train between Prague and Berlin. I asked him why he didn’t tell me about being gay after all these years. He said “I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.” I asked why he thought that would happen and once again just silence, no answer. I confided in Becca about Erik’s sexuality and her response was “oh, you didn’t know? - as if everyone else but me knew. In Berlin we got kinda trashed at a bar and I was asking about his sexual preferences in men and what “role” he liked to play with other men. He was surprisingly open about it and I was rather shocked at some of his admissions. He’s very masculine and I just could’t picture him doing the things he mentioned. As sexual as the conversation was, I felt even more close to him the way he spoke honestly about this life I never knew he had. Back home he was more confiding in me when he had “hook ups”. We laughed and joked that we should have a double wedding. But here is the purpose of this posting. And the reason everything is so detailed is I’m reflecting on things I may have missed in the past. Erik was hooking up with a guy we’ll call Greg. Greg is a good looking guy and successful in his career. The relationship has become serious. I literally have endless texts from Erik over the years as we are basically checking in with each other constantly. However since he met Greg, texts are down 95%. And when we do text, it’s Greg this Greg that. Every single thing we talk about he works Greg into the conversation. We had a trip planned in June to Europe that got canceled due to COVID, so this was adding to my angst. I asked him if he’d want to hang out - go out to eat. His response was Greg planned a special evening and added Greg “isn’t really into that restaurant anyhow” as if I was inviting Greg too. I feel like in the last 4 months our friendship has evaporated. I’ve been feeling really lonely - crying about my dad and thinking about the loss of this friendship. Becca doesn’t know any of this but she knows something is off. I just tell her I miss my dad and Christmas time is hard for me. I tried to elicit an emotional response from Erik. I texted him a photo of us at a lake in Germany near Linderhof palace. Everybody who looks at photo says how we are 2 hot looking guys in our plaid shirts, the blue water matching our eyes. Two full days went by with no response to text - then a text comes in that simply says “good times”. I sent another text saying I’m looking forward to our next trip and he sends a thumbs up emoji. Then the ultimate bomb for me, I found out that Erik and Greg are looking for an apartment together. I’m having trouble concentrating (or even being at work), eating and sleeping. I’ve lost interest in sex too. I want things to be back to before. I know I made one big mistake that might of been a turning point. In November last year Erik was in a local community theatre - not in a main role but a pretty important supporting role. They had rehearsed for months. I had tickets for the final show and Erik was excited for me to be there. After work that day I went to axe throwing with my co-workers and before I new it, it was showtime. I was kind of tanked and thought he wouldn‘t care if I missed the show, or even notice. Well I was wrong, the next day I went to his place and he was quiet. He said “you missed the show, I didn’t see you in the audience.” I told him I did indeed miss it. In that moment he became so vulnerable. He put his head in his hands and started to sob. It was a unique unforgettable sounding sob I never heard before from him, almost like a little boy. I felt devastated. I asked him please don’t be mad with me I’d make it up. He struggled to get out the words that he wasn’t mad, rather the most disappointed he’s ever been in a person. I felt like the worse person on earth. This guy was there for me when my dad passed, and I couldn’t be there for a play to support him. In that moment I absolutely hated myself. I literally couldn’t look myself in the mirror. He asked me to leave as he didn‘t feel like having people. I sat in the car outside for a long time not knowing what to do. In hindsight I wasn’t sure what I brought to the friendship. Aside from conversation and companionship, I mostly took from the friendship whereas he constantly gave. I love Becca, but it’s not the same way I feel about Erik. I can’t even contemplate marriage at this point. I just want to be with Erik and travel the world. If someone asked me my ideal situation, it would be to have a house and dog in Europe with Erik, and have female friends on the side to have sex with. Erik is a very handsome attractive guy, but I’m not physically attracted to guys. I’m not sure if it’s fair to both of us for me to be physical with Erik in order to have that emotional bond I crave and “feel at home with”. And he probably deserves someone who‘s into him physically. I envisioned having sex with him, but I feel it would be more forced than natural. I’m so confused - all I know is I want him back from Greg and want to tell him I love him. I’m so confused in this moment - I think I fell in love with another guy, thinking of him constantly. But I’m not clear why he never expressed interest in me physically in our 5 year friendship - I think I’m a lot more attractive than Brandon. Everything is changing too fast and I feel like I’m left with nothing but memories and the world has moved on from me. Should I tell Erik this? And what does it look like? I leave Becca and start a life with Erik if somehow he wants to? I’m lacking so much sleep I’m questioning whether this is just normal emotions of life changes and all this talk is me becoming disconnected from reality. After losing my dad I don't want to lose Erik too.
submitted by /u/Travelanddoglover [link] [comments] source https://www.reddit.com/r/sexuality/comments/ki3hiv/what_am_i_feeling_am_i_in_love_with_my_best_friend/
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realmeganamram · 5 months ago
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UPDATED TRUMP DOCTOR LETTER
To Whom It May Concern: A lot of people have expressed a desire for an update on President Donald J. Trump’s health since his inauguration. I have been the personal physician of President Donald J. Trump since 1980 and I am here to say that Mr. Trump’s health is absolutely better than ever. Since being sworn in, Donald Trump has lost 50 pounds and gained 17 inches of height. He’s the longest president who has ever lived. His livers are both functioning flawlessly. His blood sets an all-time record for the state of New York for “most” and his blood pressure was rated “excellent” by seven different Fox News Twitter polls. He doesn’t even have one cholesterol. I can say this unequivocally: Donald Trump has the most bones. Scientists estimate that he now has around 900 bones in his body and more are being discovered every day. Some of those bones have never been seen before. They allow him to be really good at presidential things like signing executive orders and making love nightly to his wife who wants him to. Mr. Trump’s test results have been astonishingly excellent. He actually has a blood type we’ve never seen before: “All.” It’s both the universal donor and universal recipient, and sprinkling it on your penis makes your penis bigger. Mr. Trump’s blood is gorgeous. It has a rich color that’s hard to describe, but if I had to put it into words, I might call it “red.” President Donald Trump has no family history of cancer, diabetes, or death. The president’s family members are immortal beings that walk the earth without end, craving the sweet release of death that will never come unless they make a deal with a cool witch. Donald Trump will never die, he will just keep growing vertically forever until he lives in space. It’s really astonishing. His physical strength is extraordinary. He can lift as much as a mother whose child is trapped under a car, but he’s more attractive than that mother and he hasn’t let himself go like she has. Have you seen the way she dresses lately? The hypothetical mother in this simile is a total chunk. 4 at best. As the famous doctor Hippocrates once said, “Would not hit.” Since the Inauguration, Mr. Trump has kept an extremely active lifestyle. He starts every morning by walking straight up into the sky and then walking down again. He also visits me regularly for checkups. Mr. Trump doesn’t let me touch him because of gay, so I just eyeball it and give him a once over. I can usually tell just by looking how much blood is in him that day or which liver has taken the lead, so it’s not a super intensive process. Mr. Trump is not only the healthiest president that has ever served, but also the most handsome. I usually want to kiss President Trump when I see him, but I would never break the doctor-patient trust, so instead I kiss the portrait of him I drew on my little note pad. There have been no presidents that even come close to President Trump in terms of overall health and hotness. Franklin Pierce was pretty hot, but his body wasn’t great. James Garfield was more cute than hot. President Trump is the total package. I know this because of my stethoscope. Just to give a little more background on me, I’ve been a doctor for years. I got into medicine the same way a lot of doctors do: I once took an unmarked pill that I found under a toilet in a public restroom, and the next thing I knew, I was blacked out doing surgery on a man on a Benihana table with the big knives they got over there. I flipped this guy’s appendix right into my hat. And that’s when I caught the bug, for surgery and for tetanus! Now, I want to address some of the slanderous things that have been said about me. It’s just like these coastal elites to say I’m not qualified as a physician. They think you need fancy things, like a diploma from Harvard Med School or a diploma from a med school or a GED or a car or medicine or clean hands. You don’t need those to be a doctor! All you need is the right attitude and a good sense of humor and to be Jewish and a blank death certificate just in case! This is America. We’re not “fancy” here. You’re supposed to be able to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and put a bunch of clamps in a guy and see what tubes you can clamp up without making him sleep forever. My grandfather was a blue-collar worker, and so was my father. I am a red-collar worker because my collar is always covered in spurting blood. I may not know art or science or what a “lung” is, but I do know that I love America and am a lung-doctor! Because of my love of America and Donald Trump, it is an honor to be his physician. Donald Trump could teach us all a thing or two about health. Not only is he the healthiest human ever, but also the healthiest dog, house and Faberge Egg. I wish him luck as he continues on his endless journey. Love, “Doctor” Harold N. Bornstein, M.D. (Mostly Doctor)
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cherrymaybank · 5 months ago
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Wired So Tight (4) - Artist!Reader X Alive!Luke Patterson 1990′s AU (18+)
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Part 1, Part 2, & Part 3
Warnings: SMUT, this is a literal sex scene very nsfw, swearing. 
Words: 3172 (like, double all the previous parts)
Summary: There’s no time like the present to hook up with Luke Patterson! The only issue is this janitor’s closet is way too small for you to fit in.
A/N: I just realized that in part 1 I omitted Bobby from the friend group despite this being a 1990’s AU… Oops. Also, for those of you observant enough to clock that I gave the reader a flip phone in the 1990’s, you’re in the right place. And final disclaimer, as an LGBT, I am allowed to say the gays cannot drive (it’ll make sense eventually, just read the fic).
“Are-are you serious?” Luke pulls away from the spot under my ear where he’d been placing a sensual kiss.
“What?”
“What do you mean ‘what’?” I ask both humorously and incredulously. Luke stares at me for a second before lifting his eyebrows and microscopically shaking his head in pointed confusion.
“There’s like no room in this closet with us just standing here, how do you expect to- you know-” I trail off in a modesty that was solely elicited by embarrassment.
“Expect to what?” He teases before leaning back in and placing a lingering kiss on my lips. When he breaks the kiss, he barely pulls back and I can feel his playful smile ghosting over my cupid’s bow.
“Do that, you dickhead.”
“Well what do you suggest we do?” Luke’s lustful haze is clearing up as we both brainstorm what to do. I tried to focus on coming up with a solution, I really did! But he’s just so pretty. Even in the dim lighting of a janitor’s closet, the post-performance sweat glimmers like the night sky. His eyes always emit a wondrous glow, even when I can’t stand to look at his stupid face. And the contour of his lips! The way they relax from bliss, or lift from laughter, or the way they press together in concentration. Like right now.
“Y/n!”
“What?” I zone back in with a start.
“I know I’m hot, but the drooling is a little unnecessary.”
“Shut up,” I playfully shove his chest with my right hand, but before I can pull away Luke catches my hand in his left. My eyes drop to my shoes flusteredly. He then intertwines our fingers and caresses my hand with his thumb.
“Did you hear what I said?” he asks, leaning down to connect my eyes with his.
“No.”
“I said, I think I have an idea that might work. Just stay here. I'll be two minutes, tops.”
“Hopefully that’s not the universe’s cruel way of foreshadowing.” “Ha ha,” he says without a smile.
“Go, before my rational thoughts catch up with me!”
“Okay!” He zooms to leave, whips back around, kisses me quickly, and then bolts out the door. Ridiculous.
Now that Luke’s gone, I’m starting to come to my senses. He really pulled us into a janitor’s closet. And a gross one at that.
How romantic.
If you’d gone back in time and told Freshman me that I’d be hooking up with my nemesis, Luke Patterson, in a janitor’s closet, in a bar, on a school night… I might have dropped dead from shock.
Speaking of dropping dead from shock, what the hell am I going to tell Mia tomorrow? Will she notice the rumored ‘post-deed glow’ that people get after sex? Will I notice the rumored ‘post-deed glow’ that people get after sex? What does that glow look like? What if we don’t even do anything but kiss? Am I getting ahead of myself?
“Ready?” Luke interrupts my spiraling by abruptly opening the door to the closet.
“Where exactly are you taking me?”
“Come on, we don’t have a lot of time.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Before I can ask any further questions, Luke simply grabs my hand and drags me down the hallway. The farther we go, the faster the pace, and soon enough, we’re running through the tech crew’s tear down of the Lazy Crow.
Once Luke and I emerge from the dark hall into the backstage area, we slow our pace so as to avoid drawing suspicion. Glowing in the near distance, like a fiery red mirage, is the exit sign that hovers above the stage door. Luke pulls me through it and we emerge in a vacant alleyway. I don’t recognize any of my surroundings, and subconsciously squeeze Luke’s hand the slightest bit tighter.
“This way,” he tells me as we head for the back of the building, away from the marquee lights that illuminate the main street of downtown. Rounding the corner of the old cinder block bar,
I see a black Ford that can’t be any newer than 1975. It isn’t until after we approach the car, and Luke uses a key to unlock the trunk that I realize it’s his.
“This is your car?” I ask in disbelief.
“It’s Reggie’s. He’s our designated driver since I don’t have a car, Willie skates, and Alex is gay. Here,” he hands me a bunched up blanket, as I aim to connect the dots of Alex’s driving. Then, overcome with curiosity, I locate the corners of the blanket and lift my arms over my head to expand the image. Now fully spread out, I see the blanket is a picture of a giant wolf face.
“A wolf. How sexy-”
“Oh, shut up.”
“I mean, really, what a turn on.”
“You’re such a little shit sometimes. You know that?” Luke asks through gritted teeth and an unconcealable smile. After he relocks the trunk he lunges to grab me by the waist, and pulls me into a bear hug, smothering me in the teenage boy B.O. and whatever lingering notes are left of his cheap cologne.
“The later I’m out, the harder my parents are gonna kill me,” I whine at him through a tiny fit of laughter.
“Eager are we, Princess?”
“Just unlock the damn car!”
“As you wish, your highness,” Luke then opens the door to the back seat and bows, “Ladies first.”
“You’re so annoying,” I say climbing into the car.
“If I’m so annoying, why are you so desperate to get in my pa-”
Twisting the collar of Luke’s shirt into my dominant hand, I pull him in abruptly for a longing kiss.
“Reggie must be a really good friend if he’s willing to let you fuck in his car.” “As long as we don’t mess up the seats, he’s down to help a buddy out.” I laugh, “Hence the wolf blanket.”
We work together to lay it over the surface of the car seat. Once settled, Luke takes my face in his hands once more to hungrily kiss my lips. The kiss turns vulgar, much more explicit than any previous one in the janitor’s closet. And the added layer of frenching ignites a flame much lower in my body.
I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. I am actually going to hook up with Luke Patterson.
Luke places his hands on my hips, and slowly toys with the hem of my shirt. His fingertips feel like ice against my flushed skin, due to anticipation. He then lifts the fabric off of my waist, and pulls the shirt off of my body.
Not that I was expecting the night to go like this, but intuition told me to wear my favorite bra and panties before leaving the house. Glad I listened.
After my shirt hits the floor, I swiftly take off my bra before looking back up to see Luke motionless, and staring at me.
“Can I help you?”
“Fuck,” he sighs which makes me laugh.
“Yes, I know, I’m an absolute goddess. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
“Maybe, another time.” Removing his own shirt, Luke tosses it onto the floor, and then his lips are back on my neck. Instead of the chaste kisses from before, I feel him biting at the skin, sucking it against his teeth harsh enough to leave a mark. I’ll have to figure out an explanation for that, later.
His kissing and nipping travels downward to mark my collar bones, and the softer tissue of my chest. At this moment, I can’t help but think about all the cheerleaders who bullied me, and then sided with Luke whenever the two of us would publicly tussle. They’ve been sucking up to him ever since the band started getting big, but only one of us is in the backseat of his friend’s car, with our tits in his mouth!
“Fuck me,” I lace my hands into his tangled hair, and groan at the blissful sensation.
“I’m trying.” Luke continues leaving kisses down my torso until he reaches the waistline of my pants. As he lowers the waistline past the bulk of my hips, he stops to place sensual kisses on either hip bone.
“Luke, please. I just need you inside me,” I plead at the expense of his sensuality.
“Okay, I hear you. I put condoms in the glove box,” he says more to himself than me. While he retrieves the box, I can’t stop myself from eyeing his shirt that’s laying on top of mine.
“Uhm… I know sex is usually done without any clothes, but I want nothing more right now than for you to fuck me while I’m wearing your shirt.” My bold confession catches him off guard just as much as it caught me. He pauses briefly to register my words.
“It’s your world, I’m just living in it,” he shrugs while opening the box and tearing off a single square of foil. I grin widely at his response, then reach down to retrieve the discarded shirt. It’s slightly abrasive against the sensitive skin of my nipples, which Luke’s just spent the last minute marking up.
I’m pulled from my own dazed little dream world of wearing Luke’s shirt when I hear him sigh. He’s stroked himself a few times before rolling on the condom. Then, he looks back up to see me in his skull t-shirt. I lay back, propping myself up on my elbows.
“Have you done this before?”
“No, but I assume I’m in good hands,” I answer too truthfully. Luke laughs at my candid response before moving forward to hover over my eager frame.
“You’re sure you want to do this?”
“Yes! Don’t make me beg.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he smirks before glancing down, and guiding his shaft to my entrance.
With one last nod, Luke pushes into me, fully bottoming out, and groaning in relief. The sound medleys with my shallow gasp of ecstasy, and my back arches slightly off of the seat. The burning between my thighs is just dull enough to be overshadowed by the sensational pleasure. My eyes flutter shut as I try and adjust to the new feeling. It doesn’t necessarily hurt, but it does sting a bit, and it’s much different than anything I’ve been able to do on my own. My concentration on the pain dissolves as I feel him twitch inside me ever so slightly. The feeling turns me on beyond understanding, and each moment I take to adjust, I can almost feel myself grow wetter.
Luke’s breathing is ragged. I can tell it must be agony for him to wait. The slight quiver of his hips resting against mine is indication enough for how needy he must be. I barely lift my head off the seat, and press my lips to his gently before laying back down and staring into his bewildered eyes.
“Fuck, please move.”
That was all the convincing he needed to pull his hips back, and thrust into mine. Now that feeling is much different than anything I’ve done on my own. The dull burning is back, but after a few more measured thrusts, the pleasure is amplified and I feel my clit involuntarily throb.
After a little bit, Luke’s found a rhythm that feels amazing for the both of us. I can’t help the lewd sound that resonates through my chest, into the car. My-something between a moan and a whine-really gets Luke going as he lets a string of curses fall from his pretty lips.
“You’re squeezing me so fucking good, that doesn’t hurt you does it?”
“The squeezing?” I ask between pants, “No.”
“Good. Don’t fucking stop.” His praise feels genuine, like no other girl has made him feel this way. And that makes everything feel a million times better. It feels better than any shower head or hair brush that’s had to suffice in the past.
“Luke!” I cry out when he pushes deeper inside of me. I can feel the smirk Luke is sporting even with my eyes closed. My curses of delight encourage him to move faster and he does not disappoint. Each thrust reaches deeper, hits harder, until I can’t produce any more sound. Just shallow breaths passing through my parted lips.
Luke then sucks the tip of his middle finger into his mouth, before dropping it down to rub short, calculated strokes over my clit. It’s an obscene contrast to the languid thrusts of his hips.
“God, you feel so good,” he nearly whispers as he drops his head to place another hungry kiss on my neck. My left arm desperately reaches up to hug his bare torso closer to mine, and my right hand reaches up to tangle into the back of his mousy brown hair. I can’t help the way I subconsciously pull his body closer to mine. I never want this moment to end. Right now, it’s only me and him. Me and him only.
“Not such a smartass when you’re getting dicked down real good, huh?”
“It’s ‘really well’, not ‘real good’” I sigh and I can feel him mischievously smile into the love bites he’s leaving on the side of my neck. Then, he slightly adjusts the angle of his hips, and when he presses back into me with force, I can’t stop the small screech that tears through my vocal cords.
I feel him grin against the skin below my jaw bone.
“Found it.”
I’m seeing stars from the new sensation of pleasure.
“You okay?” He checks in as he continues to move. A broken sob racks through my body in response,
“So good. I’m so close, Luke.” His face then resurfaces from my side and he captures my mouth in a greedy kiss. The rhythm of his hips coming to meet mine speeds up. And I feel his fingers against my clit again, which amplifies the internal pleasure by 100. My nerves are on fire as the quick, synchronized movement of his hips and his fingers together is enough to push me over the edge. For a few seconds I fall completely silent. My eyes squeeze shut and my lips part in ecstasy. The feeling of floating on cloud nine is briskly broken as my abdominal muscles begin convulsing, and I know Luke can feel my walls fluttering around him.
Luke’s movements become sloppy, fatigued.
After one…
two…
three more measured thrusts, Luke’s movements come to a stop. When he stills, he’s pressed as deep as he can go inside of me. With his hips flush against mine, and his head buried into my neck, Luke’s frozen position is disrupted by a shiver, and his body begins to rhythmically convulse over top of mine.
“Oh fuck!” he groans in the raspiest voice I’ve ever heard him speak.
Within a few seconds, his high is replaced by exhaustion, and I feel him relax into a deadweight on top of me.
“Shit,” I say on an exhale which morphs into a blissed-out laugh. The rush of post-orgasm endorphins sends us both into a small laughing fit.
Heat radiates off of Luke’s tired frame, and I hug him into my body once more. When I let go, Luke pushes up off of my body, and once he’s basically upright, he moves to pull out of me. The movement causes both of us to hiss from heightened sensitivity down there.
I remove Luke’s shirt from my naked chest, and locate my clothes on the floor. We take comfort in the silence that’s occasionally broken from our heavy breathing as we get dressed. What a night.
“I should get going, the last bus is probably gonna be here any minute, if I haven’t already missed it.” Luke’s head snaps up and he looks at me with a frown.
“Don’t take the bus, we can drop you off at home,” he offers, reaching out to hand me my shirt.  
“I don’t know. I don’t wanna put you or your friends in that position,” I go to take it from him, but instead of handing it over, Luke tucks my shirt behind his back.
“We’re taking you home, okay?”
“Is me saying yes the only way you’ll give me my shirt back?” I sigh after tying on my other shoe. Luke nods in apprehension.
“Okay. You can drive me home.” Luke then grins in victory and hands me my shirt.
“I’m gonna grab the boys and then we can head out.” Before he gets out of the car, Luke places one more lengthy kiss on my lips, and scrambles out of the car. I’m surprised by the kiss, I thought this was gonna be just another one of his hook ups. Is he even looking for a relationship? I’m not gonna ask. That’ll be a conversation for a different day. As I wrap up that train of thought, Luke’s resurfaced outside the car with his three bandmates behind him.
He climbs in the back seat with me, but leans over the center console to put the key in the ignition. We just finished having sex, and I still can’t keep myself from staring at his ass.
Reggie notices as he hops in the front seat.
“Hey Y/n!” He smiles sweetly as if he has no idea what we just did.
“Not the wolf blanket!” Bobby cries as he opens the door to sit in the back row with me and Luke.
“Right? That’s what I said!” My comment makes everyone laugh but Luke, who is instead, blushing like a madman.
“It’s not that bad,” he defends quietly as he sits back down and buckles into the middle seat.
“It’s pretty bad,” I say with an uncontainable smile. Luke scrunches his eyebrows together and sticks his tongue out at me. I fake pout back at him before buckling into my seat.
“Really?!” Alex whines from outside the car. Luke and I share a confused glance before turning back toward the blonde boy. As he climbs into the passenger seat, he tosses the opened box of condoms at Luke in dismay. I bite my bottom lip out of embarrassment, and stare out the window to avoid any unwanted glances from the boys.
“I’d offer you shotgun so you could help me navigate the way to your house, but Alex refused to sit in the back,” Reggie laughs a little bit as he places his hand behind Alex’s headrest, and backs out of the parking spot.
“It’s fine. I can see pretty well from back here.”
“I’ll minimize any and all distraction from lover boy here,” Bobby only half-teases, nudging Luke’s shoulder.
“Thanks. I’ll need all the help I can get with this one,” I say, reaching up to try and tame Luke’s post-sex hair. Alex begins to crank down his window when he speaks, which prompts Luke and I to share an embarrassed look as we stifle our laughter,
“It smells so bad in here, oh my god.”
***
A/n: be gentle bc this is kinda the first full on smut I've ever written?? It was hard (no pun intended) and I had to walk away like three times while writing bc I got so flustered. Lol, hope y’all enjoyed reading this mini series as much as I enjoyed writing it. On to the next!!
Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress​ @bumbleberry-pie​ @losers-club6​
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Drive By ~ Reggie (part 2)
A/n: This part’s Discord link! I want to clarify this time that the discord server is actually run by @httpnxtt ! So bless her for giving us a place to SCREAM (as we so often do!) Also I wrote this listening to “Lover Man” by Ricky Montgomery and this HEAVILY follows that song so feel free to listen to it to enhanse the experience!
Word Count: 7400+
Warnings: OKay so listen this part could potentially be super triggering so READ THIS PLEASE!!!! Grief (blaming yourself, anger, depression, etc), trauma reaction to arguing/yelling, trauma reaction to assumed physical abuse, implied minors having past sexual experiences, internalized homophobia, people discriminate against soulmates in this au, implied domestic disputes, rejection. I... think that’s it I’m so sorry if I’ve forgotten something.
MASTERLIST
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Reggie really hated soulmates.
He liked seeing other people and their soulmates, and he loved talking about soulmates with other people. It's just, if he'd had the choice, he wished more than anything that he could have just... not had one himself. He'd rather just be one of those odd people who never manifested a soulmate connection; that would be so, so much better if this is what having a soulmate meant for him.
Now, Reggie didn't always feel this way. When he was younger he used to listen to people talk about their soulmates all the time and dream of a future when he got his. His parents had been one of those people who strongly believed that soulmates were a bad thing, and had been open and proud that they weren't soulmates. Maybe seeing them argue all the time had been the basis of his love for soulmates, and his drive to find his.
If only he could tell his young self that life isn't that simple. There's no magical cure to loneliness, and soulmates aren't all they're cracked up to be. Not for him. Nothing ever was, for him.
"Reg?"
The bassist looked over, eyes wide as his name was called. "Yeah?"
Alex was the one looking at him, concern creasing his features. "You seem really distracted today. You alright?"
In all honesty, he absolutely wasn't. Ever since they'd been forcefully brought back into the land of the living as ghosts, and now they were trying to make a band again and Alex had found his soulmate and the world was so crazy different and Luke was acting weird like he ALWAYS did when soulmates were involved and Reggie was really overwhelmed.
"Yeah," he answered anyway. Thinking about soulmates makes him finally make a decision he's been trying to avoid for a few days now. "I'm a little restless. I think I'm going to go on a walk. Take a page out of your book." He smiles and stands up, and Alex nods.
Luke looked over. Reggie should have known Luke would have known that Reggie didn't like walks like Alex did. "Do you want company?"
"No," Reggie answered immediately. It came off less as desperate and more insistent though, so he didn't stress about how fast he'd said it. Usually he'd love to have Luke around, but he couldn't for what he wanted to do. Especially because he knew the only reason Luke wanted to go along is because the last time one of them went on a walk they came back with a soulmate mark, and he didn't want Luke to be all over him and protective. He couldn't deal with that right now. Luke's face fell though and Reggie added, "I just need some space you know?" His voice was soft this time, and Luke nodded after a second, a small smile on his face.
With that, Reggie poofed out of the garage and was outside, turning away to begin walking down the road.
The sun was going down before he found what he'd been looking for. He'd had to sneak around and peak where he probably shouldn't of, but he had to know. Fine, it was creepy. He wasn't proud. But he... he HAD to know.
It was his snooping that had brought him to the graveyard.
Walking through the yard looking at every single head stone searching for the one name he was most afraid to see but knew he eventually would, Reggie realized that in all of the things that he had imagined when he'd thought about tracking down a certain someone from his past every single outcome possible made him just as sick as this did.
Finally he came across the grave he was looking for. At the top was a name. Y/n's name. Reggie sat on the dirt, legs crossed, hands in his lap. As he looked at the grave, he felt the top right corner of his chest itch. The spot just below his collar bone. His hand itched to touch it, but he wasn't like Luke. He didn't give into urges. He was too afraid if he touched it enough times people would realized the real reason he never wanted to change in front of anyone else.
His eyes closed and he sighed. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the gravestone. "I remember the night you left. The hours Luke spent crying when his soulmate mark turned grey. I remember Alex holding him so tightly and calming him down. How I had to..." He swallowed. "I had to be quiet about how much it hurt me too." He sat back, his eyes opening again as he looked at the year on the tombstone. He reached out, his fingers grazing over the year Y/n had died. "You died the same year we did. I wonder how it happened. How many months were you around that we weren't? What-" His voice choked with emotion. "Did you hear about us? What happened? Did you even care?" His voice was soft and it faded, his hands raising to rub at his face. Finally, Reggie shook his head and moved to his feet. He bent down to touch the top of the stone. "I'm sorry for how things happened all those years ago." And then he turned away and he left, and he didn't look back.
-
"You should ask him out."
Reggie jumped and his eyes whipped around. When had Y/n gotten to the studio?  "Oh hey." He tried to smile and laugh the comment off, but his fear at being caught red handed made his stomach twist and both the sound and the expression he made were contorted with awkwardness.
Y/n rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall next to Reggie. "Listen I might be gay, but I'm not stupid." He grinned. "Luke. Talk to him."
Without meaning to, Reggie looked back at Luke. He was talking to Alex and Bobby about the newest song he'd written and how he wanted it to sound. Alex had asked about what the song was about and it had set Luke off for half an hour. Reggie hadn't taken his eyes off of the lead singer since the conversation had started. When talking about music and things he was passionate about in general, Luke was so... beautiful? That really was the word for it. He wouldn't have done it if he hadn't been sure no one was looking... he'd forgotten Y/n was coming over today. Even then, how did the dude just walk in without alerting a single other person in the room?
Reggie cleared his throat and looked away from Luke. At least it was Y/n. He didn't have to hide from Y/n. In the small time he'd been going out with Luke, Y/n had been the most amazing person Reggie had ever met. He was so warm and welcoming. He made Reggie feel safe, like every time he was around Reggie was coming home. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced since his parents had ruined the feeling of safety and belonging in his house, and since his feelings for Luke had made everything so weird for him in the studio. Both places had lots of good feelings and memories and got so very close, but it was Y/n that really drove it home, if you will. Because of this, when Reggie spoke, it was with defeat and not denial. "I can't."
"Why not?" Y/n asked.
Looking over at Y/n with an odd expression, Reggie felt himself  get really confused. Was this one of those times he had missed something that was obvious to most people, or was that as weird as it felt? "You just learned I have feelings for your boyfriend and you want me to act on them?"
A soft, low laugh rumbled and Reggie felt himself smile despite himself. "He's not my boyfriend." Something between a grimace and a bittersweet smile rested on Y/n's lips, and slowly the sweet part of it was fading away. "He made that very clear." Reggie went to defend Luke but Y/n just held up a hand. "I know. I understand, I really do. Soulmates are like a huge taboo, and it doesn't help that we're both dudes. Trust me, I know how bad it can ruin your life when people find out you're not straight."
Reggie thought about Alex. "Most of us do," he said without thinking.
Y/n just nodded, not pressing Reggie for more information. Y/n was really good about reading people like that. Knowing what to say and when to say it. It was as if he could feel the spike of panic that Reggie had felt a second after saying what he had. "And I understand that too. I don't BLAME him. I'm not MAD at him. It just sucks. I mean, your parents don't know we're friends. None of your fans know I even exist. I mean Bobby and Alex are IN the band and they only found out about us like a week ago. We've been seeing each other for a month and a half." He scoffed. "I hate feeling like a secret. Like... he's ashamed of me. Like I'm sort of dirty pleasure. The way people look at porn." He rolled his eyes. "Honestly he's lucky he's worth it." This was said with more humor, and Reggie was relieved to feel the dark mood begin to slip away. "I have plenty of people who'd be very public about being in love with me." Then he winked at Reggie.
Without knowing why, Reggie's face went warm and his heartbeat picked up. It was the exact same thing that had happened when Luke made eye contact with him while they were singing, or when they got too close while sharing the mic and their shoulders or legs brushed. That moment of intense adrenaline when it was suffocatingly hot and Reggie's blood was rushing and then the guy he'd been crushing on for years looked at him and made him feel like he was the only person in the room. Reggie had always been so relieved that Luke could only do that during performances, when Reggie had something else to focus on immediately. When he had to be professional, and not when they were alone and he couldn't hold himself back from kissing Luke if given the chance.
How could Y/n make him feel like that now? They were just sitting here!
"If you're sad he won't publically be with you, then-"
"Because you two can have a relationship in public. People have seen you perform and no one blinks at it. Not at the way you look at each other, or how fine you are with invading each others' space. It's just written off as bandmates stuff. You probably share a room, or have known each other very long. Unless you kissed on stage no one would even care. Only the other gays would know and what are they gonna do, judge you?" He snickered and Reggie had to admit it made him smile. "You both have good reputations. It's as fair for me to be hidden as it is for him to hide me. He hates it - I can tell. He wants to go on actual dates or just been seen in public together. He wants to tell the girls that flirt with him to back off because he's taken. But he can't." Y/n sighed.
"And you think I can give him that?" Reggie asked. Y/n looked over, obviously surprised by the tint of humor in Reggie's voice. The bassist found it hilarious that all these things seemed to be a continuation of why Y/n wanted Reggie to give asking Luke out a shot... but then something clicked in his head and his smile dropped dead in exchange for wide eyes that matched Y/n's. "You think he likes me back." It was deadpan, opposite to the torrent of emotion inside of him.
Y/n scoffed. "Well YES, but... Reggie between us, you're the closest he's ever gonna get to a real relationship. The kind he wants, at least."
Reggie wasn't having that though. "Y/n he's head over heels for you. I didn't even think there was any room in that head of his FOR romance until he and Alex went out, and even then... I mean they broke up for a reason. Sometimes I feel like the only reason he-" Reggie snapped his mouth shut, eyes darting away as he realized what he was about to say.
By the look on Y/n's face, he got the feeling eh didn't actually have to say it. Y/n just nodded. "He only wants to be with me because we're soulmates." Reggie shrunk. "It's fine, I think so too. That's why I don't think I would mind if he did date someone else, along with whatever we have. As long as the person he decides to be with is okay with it. I don't know, I really like Luke and I really like us. I just feel like he deserves better sometimes, you know?"
The thing was, Reggie didn't know. He had never seen Luke as happy as he was with Y/n. He had meant that he only thought they had started dating because of the whole soulmates thing - Luke wouldn't still be with Y/n if the boy wasn't important to him. Luke looked at Y/n the same way he looked when he talked about music. But Reggie didn't know how to say that, so what he said instead was, "You matter a lot to him." It was quiet for a second before he added, "I don't think there are many people who make him as happy as you do. Even if you're just... here."
Y/n looked at his hands. "He told me about when he was a kid, and he'd check his body for any mark or name or phrase or anything. He told me about his parents had been missing s color before they met, and how they'd only told him when he was older and could keep a secret, but how they didn't want Luke to run away from potential great love because he turned away from his soulmate like so many do. They filled his head with so many hopes and dreams and... the way he looked at me that night. Without knowing anything about me, he looked at me like I was the reason the stars were in the sky. Sometimes I think that's all it is. That we share this mark, and the universe looked at me and whispered to him, 'that one'. He wouldn't have chosen me otherwise."
"He wouldn't have," Reggie agreed honestly. "But he has now, and I think it would kill him to lose you." Y/n went to argue, but this time it was Reggie who shook his head, cutting off whatever was about to be said. "I'm serious. You two are special. Don't diminish that."
After a second, Y/n's body relaxed and he smiled, nodding. "Thanks Reg." Reggie nodded and then they both looked at Luke, who was wrapping up whatever he was talking about, as Bobby wanted to get back to practicing. "I still think you should ask him out."
Reggie shoved Y/n off the couch at that, and both of their laughter finally brought the attention of Luke, who immediately ended the conversation by coming over and being within ear shot. Which meant Y/n had the last word.
This time.
-
"You're touching it again." Alex's eyes shot up to see Reggie's amused smile. He had gotten into the same habit Luke did; whenever he was nervous, his thumb would reach out to brush over the inked on words on his wrist. "What's bugging you?"
Alex sighed. "I'm just ALWAYS thinking about him, you know? Like I-" His face suddenly went very red. "I don't know, this feel so different to any relationship I've ever had. And maybe that's because the only other person I really dated was Luke, but-" He shrugged.
Understanding completely, Reggie nodded. "I get it. It must be nice, to have that. Do you think he feels the same?"
The blush got worse. "I... yeah." He cleared his throat and Reggie tried not to laugh. "We've been hanging out a lot and he's been answering a lot of questions. It's still not like anything serious - we're still getting to know each other, and we're both letting this take us where we want to go. Like, it's slower than it was with Luke, but faster than Flynn and Julie explained the pace of their relationship."
That made Reggie snort. "To be fair, it took YEARS for those two to do anything about their soulmate stuff."
"Yeah but they met super young," Alex reminded. Reggie nodded - that was a fair point. "Once they talked about what the soulmate thing between them meant, they took like a few months to figure it out. It's been like a week for us and I already feel like I've known him for years." He rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes kept flickering around the studio, and Reggie felt his stomach twist painfully as he realized what Alex was doing.
He was looking for Luke.
The last time they'd discussed soulmates, Julie had asked Luke about Y/n and it had gotten... awkward.
Reggie interlaced his fingers together to stop himself from suddenly scratching the intense itch he felt over that stupid, stupid mark on his chest. He couldn't stop thinking about it, but he refused to give himself away. He'd managed to hide it from his closest friends for an entire year - he wasn't going to trip up now. "Man, I'm happy for you. You deserve this. Not just the soulmate thing, but the way you talk about Willie makes me so happy for you." Reggie grinned despite himself. "I wish I could see you two together more."
Alex loosened up, his own smile growing. "Don't you listen to me talk about him enough without having to see me be an idiot in person?"
Reggie laughed. "You know I would love to see you be HAPPY," he stressed, raising his eyebrows. He always corrected his friends when they dished on themselves. "What you guys have is special."
Alex tilted his head. "You know, I always wondered what it would be like for you to get a soulmate. I bet you'd be even more a disaster than me."
Reggie had to remind himself that he was dead and didn't have a heartbeat, because he was sure he'd had a heart attack when Alex had said that. Once again, the urge to touch that damn mark was strong and he clenched his hands into fists so tightly his knuckles went white. "Yeah I've always wondered too." He cleared his throat. "That won't get you out of talking to me about Willie though. Come on, I have questions!"
The distraction worked... For now. He hoped it would keep working just a little longer.
-
Luke had fallen asleep hours ago, curled up with Y/n on the couch in the studio. His breathing was even and low and soft and it was almost enough to help Reggie go to sleep too. Only almost though, because Reggie was REALLY distracted by the way he looked with his hair falling in his face and his cheeks squished as he lay his head on Y/n's chest. He was even more distracted by the thought of being like that with Luke and feeling guilty because the more he thought about it, the smugger Y/n got and the smugger Y/n got, the more Reggie thought about it. It was a cycle and he was slowly going absolutely insane - the entire time, Y/n wore a knowing smile and barely held back from busting up laughing at him.
It was no different now.
"You're ridiculous," Y/n sighed softly.
"Shut up," Reggie complained, his eyes closing. It wasn't so much an order as it was a whine, and Y/n had to force himself not to giggle. Laughing would move his chest and wake up Luke, and the boy desperately needed sleep.
Y/n sighed. "I don't know why you don't just ask him out." This time Reggie groaned, but still kept it soft as not to disturb Luke. Bobby and Alex had gone home hours ago, and the three of them had stayed to talk, but Luke had fallen asleep so that Y/n was pinned. The problem was he couldn't get comfortable  as he sat in the middle of the couch, leaving him nothing to lean against and fall asleep on. Y/n had invited Reggie to sit next to him and be Y/n's pillow, but the bassist didn't think he could handle that AND Luke without combusting.
Pulling his thoughts away from thinking about Y/n sleeping on him - because for some reason, that was so much harder to deal with than imagining Luke doing it, in the sense that it made his heart want to explode and his head feel fuzzy and his skin tingle and that terrified him in a way he could not explain - Reggie moved his gaze toward the roof before saying, "It wouldn't work out."
There was some shuffling and Reggie looked back to see Y/n very slowly, skillfully maneuvering Luke in a way that didn't wake the brunette as Y/n slipped out from underneath him. Luke complained in the form of sleepy, incoherent mumbles and scrunching up his face for a few seconds, but was otherwise undisturbed. Reggie was astounded. Luke was a light sleeper, so the feat alone was amazing... but also, if Y/n could do that the whole time why hadn't he done it much earlier instead of asking Reggie to join the sleep train?
While he was busy being surprised, Y/n settled in a new spot, next to Reggie. He reached out, his hand cupping Reggie's cheek to gently bring the boys' eyes to a meeting point. Reggie felt his throat clog up and swallowed to force down the lump attempting to choke him. "Reggie," Y/n asked in a soft voice, eyes earnest and wide. "Why don't you think you deserve love?"
Reggie was speechless. How could Y/n have POSSIBLY known that? "I didn't say-"
Y/n shook his head. "You didn't have to. But that's not important. Don't start lying to me now." Y/n was very close and Reggie could not summon a single helpful thought in all of the possible workings of his human mind. He HAD many thoughts, but not a SINGLE one of them included him thinking straight and it was immediately an intense struggle. "Reggie, you are so amazing," Y/n whispered, and the raspy touch in his voice made Reggie die a little bit inside. "You're so kind and warm and soft, like as a person. You feel so much and have so much compassion and care so much about people. I don't know what you think it is that has you so convinced you don't deserve EVERYTHING the world has to offer and more, but I promise you that everyone who matters? Alex, me and Bobby, and YES, even Luke - we all see how incredible you are. Please tell me you can see it too, even just a little bit.
A good swallow finally dislodged the lump in his throat, and Reggie found his voice. "Y/n..." He shook his head, and Y/n's hands fell to his shoulders. "I just feel... different than everyone else. I'm..." He couldn't find words. "It's not that I don't think I deserve happiness. I just feel like I'm not ever going to find it. Not like you and Luke. I don't think that's part of what's going to be in my future. I feel like I'm missing something important sometimes. Something other people just have, and are born with. Like a really key part of a puzzle?" He shrugged, turning his head away.
"Oh Reggie," Y/n whispered in that same soft tone that spoke volumes of softness and fondness. "How could you think you need anything other than what you already have, when what you have is so amazing and special?" Reggie looked over as Y/n's left hand shifted Reggie's collar to touch his skin at the top right of Reggie's chest with his palm. Y/n's fingertips grazed Reggie's neck. "Do you feel that, Reg? Your heart..." Reggie realized why Y/n had moved his shirt - to feel his heartbeat. "You bleed kindness. You have always, I think. From what I've seen, and what I've heard, you're surrounded by hardship and hate and struggle, and somehow you came out of all of it with a heart gushing with love. I don't care what you think you're missing. You have THIS, and that is ALL you need. YOU are enough, Reginald. You are all anyone ever needs."
Reggie felt an... odd sensation. A warmth that spread through his body, from where Y/n touched him. At first he thought it was just that the words had touched him so much, but as the warmth faded, there was something left behind. A tingly buzzing sensation, right where Y/n's palm touched Reggie's chest.
Eyes widening, Y/n moved his hand away. It was only then they both realized it was the same hand he had touched Luke with for the first time. The same hand that had the Rose tattoo. The one that matched the one on Luke's shoulder. The shape that  marked the two boys soulmates. The mark which before had been only one outline of a rose... but was now two roses, crossed over each other. Identical, but facing opposite directions. Their stems curled the same way, the tilt was the same, but they faced opposite directions, ending up crossing each other.
"Oh my god," Y/n whispered. His eyes moved to Reggie's chest, which was still slightly exposed. His eyes went wide, his face draining of color.
A sort of panic suddenly flooding him, Reggie shot to his feet and flew to the bathroom. He tugged down the color of his shirt, looking in the mirror. To his horror, where Y/n's hand had touched his skin was the detailed drawing of a rose without any color. The same mark that had been on Y/n's palm and Luke's shoulder since they had met. Their soulmate mark.
His eyes caught motion and he looked over to see a suddenly shy Y/n in the doorway. "So," the teen edged, tension in his shoulders and hesitation in his eyes. "I guess this means we're soulmates too. How fun is that?"
-
"I guess I failed on that whole not coming back thing." Reggie was sat on the dirt plot in front of Y/n's gravestone again, shaking his head at himself. "I promised last time was my last time. Did the same thing the time before that." Reggie could feel his heart ache and his stomach tie into knots so tight that they gave him a stomach ache. His eyes watered as he looked at the name on the stone, blurring the words as he felt his heart scream in his chest. He put his face in his hands, slowly moving his fingers so they wound into his hair. "I miss you so much." He was crying, his body shaking violently as he tried to hold it in and failed. "God I'm so sorry Y/n. I'm so sorry I ran from you back then. That I pushed you away and ignored you. You were the only person that knew. The only person I could talk to about this."
For a second he cut off, and he really cried. He cried and cried until his throat was sore and his body felt painful from how tight it was wound. He knew the pain wouldn't last. Physical pain never did now that he was a ghost. It didn't change the fact that his very soul ACHED. He felt like he was missing something important. Something irreplaceable. Something precious. And it was all his own fault.
When his voice returned, it was watery and weak. His words were torn and broken with hiccups and stuttering. He was absolutely miserable. "Y-you said- I tried to- and you just-" He pulled on his hair, suddenly ripping his hands away from the strands to angrily wipe at the stupid tears that wouldn't let him talk. He NEEDED to talk. He had to get out what he was feeling and make sense of all of the thoughts in his head.
He had gone through denial the first time he'd come here. He'd thought it was some sort of conclusion. A letting go of the past, to know that Y/n was gone. It was supposed to be an answer to a question. He was supposed to be relieved to know what happened. He was supposed to just find out where Y/n had ended up and then be fine with it. He had even visited the second time only to give a proper goodbye, and that was when it had hit him.
Y/n was gone. He hadn't grown up. He hadn't found happiness. He hadn't experienced a world accepting of him. He hadn't found someone else and been happy and safe like he deserved. The pain that thought brought him was more overwhelming than the realization that Reggie himself had suffered the same fate. More sharp than even Alex or Luke suffering the same fate, because at least the three of them had each other. They had Julie and the band, and they had skipped right to the good parts and missed all the bad parts where people fought tooth and nail for the world they had now. But Y/n had only ever had Sunset Curve. He didn't have anyone else that cared about him. He had died, probably alone and miserable, feeling rejected by the two people he felt for the most, and probably forgotten by the two friends he had. The only four people that had been kind to Y/n in a very long had all shut him out and in his last moments, he had no one to turn to.
The third time Reggie came to visit, the pain had been replaced by guilt. He had spent nights awake thinking about all the times Y/n had begged Reggie to tell Luke about the rose. About Reggie being their soulmate too. Y/n had spent weeks and weeks trying to get them all on the same level. Trying to work it out. But Reggie had rejected him. Had run from him, the same way Reggie had been run from. He hadn't helped when Y/n had needed it as things turned south with Luke. He hadn't helped when Luke had come to him looking for advice after the fight with Y/n. He had told Luke to forget about it, and now Luke hated soulmates and Y/n had died alone and it was all Reggie's fault. If he had just been braver. A better friend. A better soulmate...
His fourth time at the grave, all he felt was anger. Anger at himself. Anger at Luke and Y/n for fighting. Anger at these stupid soulmate marks. Anger at the world that had raised him for seventeen years to hate the best parts of himself. To fear the way he loved, and the people he loved. He was angry at the nightmares and the pain and the worry and the stress that had been so needless. Why couldn't men be in love with each other? Because it wasn't how people had loved each other in public? Because it was new? Because it was different? Why were soulmates so terrible? Well that one he knew. Soulmates had been such taboo then because it was one less thing people could control. One less part of peoples' lives that could be locked down and forced around. A power stronger than any law. An energy that fueled hope. Hope, an emotion stronger than even fear if grown and bolstered. And that's what soulmates did, right? Encouraged people to think differently. See more. Try something new. Soulmates could be two men, or two girls, or a man and a woman. It could be anyone. Soulmates didn't gender code like society wanted them too, so obviously they were evil. Julie had gone off about it one day and you know what she was right! It was bullshit!
It was the fifth time Reggie had come with pleading eyes and begging and pleading. He had sat in front of that stupid gravestone and tried not to cry as he prayed to whoever might be listening. As he talked to thin air. As he picked up fistfuls of dirt and chucked them at the gravestone and demanded a second chance. He had screamed and kicked it and almost fallen on his face when he went through the stone. The fifth time Reggie had lost his mind, and he had spent hours trying to just get the chance to say sorry. To tell Y/n all the things he'd been wanting to tell him for so long. All he wanted was five minutes. Didn't he at least deserve that?!
Now Reggie had no other emotions left. He didn't have denial to lean on, or anger or desperation or anything else. He had used up every emotion he could think of - even jealousy for a while, as he listened to stories about Julie and Flynn or Willie and Alex. He had used one after the other until he was left stripped bare and emptied out. And now as he sat there, he cried and cried until the sadness was gone too and the tears all ran out. And then he just sat there and stared at the grey stone that was always cold and always had Y/n's name on it and offered no help or love or reprieve or condolences or even a little mercy. He looked at the grey stone and he felt a sort of kinship with it. He felt his insides pulse with a dull ache, as if they were sore. It sat there, reminding him consistently that he just felt... hollow. Empty.
Numb.
His fingertips grazed over the words carved to make Y/n's name, and he thought of the time that Y/n had tried to touch Reggie's soulmate mark; something Y/n did to Luke to remind both of them that they were soulmates. He remembered the day Y/n had begged Reggie to realize what they were. To really know it and really FEEL it and Reggie... he had pushed Y/n's hand away and said something he'd regret the rest of his life, and even after that.
How could one hotdog take so much from him in one go?
It wasn't fair.
-
"Reggie..."
Immediately, Reggie felt his body tense. "Where's Luke?" was his reply.
With a careful tone, Y/n answered, "That's what I came to talk to you about." Reggie's body only grew more rigid, but that didn't stop him moving away with ease and much speed when he felt Y/n's fingers graze his shoulder. He had been doing that every single time Y/n touched him since... since... His hand twitched and he almost touched the mark he had been ignoring for weeks, but managed yet again not to. "Reg," Y/n whispered. His voice sounded so frail and weak. So desperate. It was enough to break Reggie down enough that he slowly turned around.
And then immediately regret it.
Y/n looked like he'd been wrung out and hung to dry up in the sun. His skin was a different color than usual, like he felt queasy or was sick. There were bags under his eyes, and a expression on his face that made Reggie's heart burn with a pain he wasn't prepared for. He looked like he had been crying instead of sleeping. "Y/n... what happened to you."
Immediately, Y/n's shoulders sagged. he looked so small and defeated that Reggie drew back even more. The very air around Y/n simmered with pain and ache. "I'm... trying to make this work. This thing with Luke and- and with you-"
"Don't include me in that," Reggie snapped. He hadn't meant it to come out so harsh, but his panic had gotten the better of him and he had sounded angry. Like he was accusing Y/n of something.
Y/n's vulnerability was crushed to dust, and his face hardened and his body began to shake every so slightly. Reggie felt the yelling coming before he could hear it, and immediately his head was full of night spent curled in bed, trying to sleep as he crushed his ears with pillows and blankets and even his own hands to try and make himself stop hearing the shouts down the hall.
Y/n never yelled. He hadn't yelled once.
Hearing him yell now was so terrible that Reggie was stunned into silence for a solid minute.
"GODDAMNIT REGGIE!" He shoot his hate, his face twisted and his hands curled into fists and for a terrible second he thought Y/n was going to hit him. And then he immediately didn't understand why, because Y/n forced his hands opened and the earnest desperation was back and despite his anger he was pleading, and in that moment Reggie realized what he should have known by now: Y/n would never hurt him. Y/n would never hurt ANYBODY. Reggie was the one causing pain, and it was to the softest, kindest person he had ever met. The person who felt more pain than anyone else Reggie knew, and who still refused to let it destroy him. When Y/n spoke again, Reggie felt terrible to hear how raw the words sounded. "I'm trying to make you understand. I- I-" His eyes watered and Reggie felt a part of him shatter. "I lo-"
"Don't you dare say it." It came out as a plead, soft and wet and corrupted by a primal fear that made Reggie feel sick to his stomach to hear.
Whatever Y/n had heard in those words, it had taken something vital from him. His face went slack and tears fell down his face. Slowly, one at a time. He just looked at Reggie like he'd been slapped, and Reggie wanted to run away but he was frozen in place. "Do you just not like me back? Is it just about Luke? Do you only-?"
"I don't like Luke," Reggie demanded, finding strength in his voice again.
"Yes you do!" Y/n insisted. "I KNOW you do Reggie! I know you do because I see the way your hands twitch when Luke is near you, like you're dying to touch him. I see the way you look at him when you think no one is paying attention. I know he keeps you awake on the nights you can't sleep, and I know he's been as close to home as you could get for years because you go to him every single time you're upset or lonely or unsure. You seek comfort in him when you're hurting and you look to him for direction when you're lost."
"Stop it," Reggie whispered, his fingers curling into claws, nails digging at his skin even through his jeans.
Y/n just kept going. "And I know he feels the same about you because he says your name like it's the most beautiful word he's ever said, and he touches you like it brings him peace, and he talks about you like your his favorite song, and he's driven so intensely to be close to you like you're a fire and he's freezing. I see the way he looks at you and if I had a penny for every time he mentioned your name when the two of us were hanging out alone, I wouldn't be-"
"STOP IT!" His hands flew up to cover his ears... but for some reason Y/n cringed away from him. It felt like a punch to the gut to realize that Y/n had the same reaction as Reggie's had earlier. Y/n had, for some reason, thought Reggie was going to hit him. A look of guilt crossed Y/n's face and Reggie knew exactly what he was thinking. Reggie would never do something like that.
Whatever Reggie had, Y/n had it too, and that somehow made it so much worse.
For a second, they just sat there in silence. But then Reggie lowered his hands, very slowly, and Y/n spoke. "Is it because of me? What I was before you guys met me? What I did?"
Reggie didn't have to ask what Y/n meant. He knew full well how Luke and Y/n had met, and what it had meant. He knew that Y/n was touchy about this topic. He knew that  it was something that Y/n had stressed about for a long time until he'd learned that Luke didn't really care or think about that stuff. How much it had been a relief for Y/n to get away from a life full of people and relationships that only wanted one thing from him. How nice it had been for him to get a break from meaningless interactions and one night stands and phone numbers he never bothered to keep.
Reggie also knew this had NOTHING to do with that. Reggie didn't care about Y/n's past, or how other people saw him. He knew better. He knew Y/n had a person. However, upon being given any other reason than the truth, Reggie's instinct was to take it and run. However, he knew this was worth than the truth. And for a split second he had to switch gears from accepting the excuse to dismissing it. He had to take just a fraction of a second to shut that down in his head, despite what his first thought had been.
It created a moment of hesitation.
A moment Y/n took as an answer.
Even when Reggie finally stuttered out an, "Of course not!" Reggie knew it was too late. Y/n stepped away from him, his face crumbling. The air had been knocked out of Reggie's body as he scrambled for something to say. "It's not Y/n I swear."
Y/n looked him dead in the eye. "Then what is it?" Reggie's mouth snapped shut. "Please Reggie, give me one other reason that makes sense. Tell me that it's not that you see me the same way everyone else does. That you're not just a little bit disgusted with me, and that's why you HATE the idea that we're soulmates. Tell me why it makes you so angry to think of being with Luke, when you're so obviously into him, if it's not because not even a little part of you think he's tainted because he's been with me even if it's not... like THAT."
Reggie did the worst thing he could have ever done.
He stayed silent.
He was too petrified to give Y/n the answer that could fix all of this. The answer that could clear the air. Maybe Y/n could help. Maybe they could make everything better. Maybe...
Whatever he'd been thinking it didn't matter, because the words didn't come out of his mouth and then the door to the studio opened and Luke was standing there, looking between them with eyes full of concern and confusion as the poor boy watched the two most important people in his life argue. Y/n went to leave, grabbing his bag as he made his way out of the studio, and Reggie let him walk away thinking something so damaging and wrong. Something that would ruin everything - all because Reggie was a coward.
-
"Mommy! Mommy! The angel helped me!" Reggie didn't even process it properly. It wasn't important. It didn't pertain to him. Why would he make note of it?
How wrong he was thinking that.
His mind was so focused on Bobby who was now Trevor, who had stolen their music. Who had stolen everything closest to Luke and hurt the man Reggie would anything for. Reggie was on a war path. He couldn't think about anything else until he heard Luke distinctly whisper in the softest, shakiest voice, "Y/n?"
Reggie's head whipped around to look at Luke, only for the action to repeat again as he quickly followed Luke's gaze to see....
Unable to help himself, Reggie gasped.
There was Y/n, in the exact same condition he'd been in the night he'd stormed out after arguing for Luke. That night was branded in Reggie's mind - he was sure Y/n was even wearing the same outfit. No... Y/n had never worn white while he was alive. Why was he decked head to toe in white?
The angel helped me! That was what the little girl had said. Had she been talking about Y/n? He saw the little girl, being pulled along by her mother, and that was when Reggie realized the child could SEE Y/n. In surprise, Reggie looked back at Y/n, and as if feeling his eyes, Y/n looked back at the same time. His eyes shot a mile wide, filling with even more hurt than had already been there just looking at Luke, who Reggie realized had been the target of his sad gaze before it had landed on him. The second their eyes met, Y/n was gone, disappearing in the same flash that he had seen Alex and Luke disappear in when they disappeared.
Luke fell to the knees, and Reggie felt the world crumble down with him.
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fereldenturnip · 5 months ago
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But Don’t You Ever Let Me Go (3)
Primo Nizzuto/Majid Zamari Sugar Daddy Fic
Part 3/ ?
(Parts 1, 2)
Plus @ournextdoorneighbor has done several arts for #TrustTheWolf! Go check that AMAZING stuff out! :D
Majid wakes up at 10:58 am, completely well-rested. The evidence of his stale pleasure is glued to his body hair. The odd prickling promptly jump-starts his brain straight into freak-out mode. 
The car ride. Primo’s dulcet tones. The smell of him on his skin. The pleasure of release after so long without.
Majid leaps out of bed. 
Last night was a mistake. A weakness. One Majid is embarrassed to have committed in the first place. 
What’s shocked him most is the ferocity of his swift libido. Majid’s had fantasies before, lurid wet dreams inspired by exaggerated magazine spreads. Hot chicks in nothing but lingerie and ‘come hither’ stares. He used to go through bottles of lotion and boxes of tissues like crazy before he finally started having sex for real. 
Sex with women. 
Because Majid likes women. He isn’t gay! 
…Or, is he?
Fuck! Majid squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t know anymore! That tame, midnight fantasy was nothing at all compared to all his previous raunchy escapades, but it was also the most intense orgasm of his life. Primo’s very masculine body, his very manly voice, his very alpha-male presence awakens a dark need inside Majid. Hell, it knocked him unconscious for hours after emptying his balls all over himself. 
Still, Majid is confused. 
It’s the weekend. He’s off from work and that means no surprise visits from certain Mafia Dons. Hopefully. Just thinking about Primo overwhelms Majid and sends him into a wild frenzy around his flat. He spends most of his afternoon laundering his bed sheets and clothes, cleaning himself thoroughly in the shower…and then scrubbing down the tiles when he strokes out another Primo-induced orgasm. 
It’s absurd, but Majid suspects one look at him and Primo will know his shame. His cock gives a valiant twitch at that. 
Is this real life? Is Majid going to spend the rest of the weekend wanking off to Primo? He groans, flopping down on his springy mattress and hanging his head. 
What exactly is it about Primo that awakens Majid’s sexual urges when nothing else has? Objectively speaking, Primo is a handsome-looking older man. Any fool with eyes, gay or straight, can see that plain as day. After the first few encounters with the man, Majid scoured old newspaper clippings from decades past. Desperate to understand the gravitas behind the notorious Primo Nizzuto.
Gone is the ridiculous pornstache and bell-bottoms of his youth, exchanged for modern (albeit still flamboyant) facial hair and fashion. The floppy hair and thick thighs remain, plus the addition of one pierced ear that came about during the 80’s. In fact, Majid once spent an entire lunch captivated by a single teardrop-shaped pearl earring that swayed in time with Primo’s conversation.
He appears to have aged like a fine wine, hale and healthy, time only adding to his magnetic elegance. All that country air and good food is a testament to the wonders of Italian longevity. 
Add to that his influential power--and Majid isn’t that dumb not to notice the excited thrill he feels whenever Primo exercises said power on Majid’s behalf. Small, insignificant Majid, a real nobody that Primo pulls out all the stops for. Majid likes people watching? With a wave of his hand, Primo gets them a table with a stunning view for lunch. The gallery too crowded for Majid? One word and suddenly it’s just the two of them gazing at dusty old paintings. Primo could have literally anyone in the world, but instead he chooses to fill his days with Majid. 
It’s hot. 
It wasn’t like this with Hakan, who pranced around pretending to be his mentor so long as Majid continued making him money. Who coddled him while simultaneously collaring him. 
Yeah, but Hakan didn’t want to fuck your brains out, either. 
Oh, he knows exactly what Primo wants. Who he wants. Question is, is Majid willing to give it to him? 
Primo is sexually charged and aimed at Majid, ready to fire whenever he’s given permission. That the ball is even in existence and firmly in Majid’s court is pleasantly reassuring. Despite all his carnal hunger, Primo will wait patiently for his enthusiastic consent. In some small measure, Majid can exert his own special power over the man. That in and of itself is attractive.
It’s exhilarating and dramatic, daunting and intimidating. Has Majid been playing it straight this whole time because it was expected of him? 
Living in Italy only makes it easier to remove himself from the trappings of his old life and examine the bigger picture. For the first time, he’s outside of the rigid confines of tradition that mandated he be hard-boiled and repressed. Finally, Majid can breathe easy and freely explore what makes his cock throb without shame. Try as he might to abhor this “perverted” behavior, Majid not-so-secretly delights from the adventures, the conversations…the pampering. Maybe it’s alright to admit kneeling, crawling, and kissing Primo’s signet ring is exactly what he desires. 
However, if Majid capitulates to Primo’s wants and needs, what’s in store for him when he inevitably fucks up? What security is there that he won’t end up beaten into another bloody pulp, or worse--dead? Honestly, it’s the punishment that scares Majid more than the sex. He’s racked with crippling anxiety--pins and needles in his fingers and toes, air freezing inside his lungs, the memory of bone splintering while someone he trusted sits indifferent to his suffering. 
Surviving Hakan? Pure dumb luck. Surviving Primo? Not likely. Every moment spent with Primo is like lighting a matchstick around a puddle of gasoline. One wrong move and everything goes up in flames. Every nerve in his body is telling him to run, far away from Primo Nizzuto’s reach. 
Everytime he gets the itch to move, those damn captivating green eyes lure him right back again. 
You’re an idiot, Zamari.
++++
“Boss wants you to have this,” the man in the dark suit says.
It’s sunny as shit outside, enough that Majid squints an eye trying to adjust after spending so long in the auto shop. There’s a backdrop of power tools and air compressors whirring away behind him. In front, the Suit wears a thick pair of nondescript sunglasses over a neutral expression. He wiggles the package again.
Majid scrunches his face at the square box. It’s expertly wrapped in crimson paper that looks quite supple and expensive. It’s…a gift. A bloody gift, given the colour. Gulping, Majid wipes his hands off on a rag and clumsily accepts it. Suit goes absolutely nowhere, merely crosses his hands and waits patiently. Primo must have ordered him to witness Majid’s reaction and report back to him. Shit, Majid’s face burns hot and it isn’t from the sun.
The wrapping is just as buttery-soft as expected. It calms his initial, childlike instinct to rip and tear it open. Inside is a black box embossed with pale gold letters.
BVLGARI. 
Majid’s eyes widen comically. He stares at the box, then at Suit. 
Silence. Not even a shrug or head-tilt to acknowledge Majid’s turmoil. Nothing. Perfect, civil obedience. With his heart thumping loudly in his ears, Majid is almost envious of his observer’s detachment. His thumb edges the corners of the box and he immediately likens his situation to Pandora. What fresh hell is he inviting into this world by opening Primo’s gift? Just sign here on the bottom line...
Nestled on a cushion of creamy velvet is an all-black watch. The straps are a liquidy-soft metal of intertwining onyx teeth. The wide crystal face is ringed in matte black lettering (and fuck, it’s an actual Bvlgari) and tiny yellow-gold dials. Three perfect subdials catch a sunbeam and flare molten and golden, like miniature full moons in the midnight sky. 
Woof!
His brown eyes light up and dance at the superb craftsmanship. It’s edgy but sleek, confident and dangerous--whoever wears it will surely strike an intimidating figure.
Oh, who is he kidding? Majid is totally going to wear this. Already his wrist is heavy and itching with anticipation. It’s absolutely perfect and exactly to Majid’s tastes. It’s as if Primo saw inside his soul and plucked out all his wants and desires just to hand them back on a silver platter. A plume of heat rushes down his spine to settle in his extremities. 
Shivering, Majid reassembles the box and stares at the expectant Suit. He’s almost tempted to pass it back, refuse this precious (ludicrously expensive) gift, if only to gauge his reaction. The Suit wouldn’t mind, but he’d still have to deliver the news to the benevolent gifter. It’s already been well-established that Primo brushes off rejection like water off a duck. Or, in his case, a black swan. His first proffered gift was an entire damn vineyard. Dozens of meals and car rides later, a four-figure watch is innocent. 
His fingers trace the embossed logo. It’s such a thoughtful gift, too. 
“Please give Signor Nizzuto my sincerest,” apologies, “thanks.” Fuck. 
Suit nods stiffly, pivots on one polished heel, and returns to his nondescript car. 
Majid escapes the hot air outside and returns to the auto shop. The gift is tenderly tucked inside his personal locker, with the lock pulled twice just to verify it is indeed fastened. The rest of his work day is spent in a complete daze. Everything blends together--Majid can’t count how many car batteries and broken tail lights he replaces, his mind and eyes skittering back to bore holes into his locker. 
When he greets Primo outside his apartment for their usual Tuesday night dinner, Majid is clean of grease and clothed in his best black attire. There’s been an effort to tame his growing curls and trim his short beard. He looks handsome. 
The sallow streetlamp outside casts him all in shadow. Somewhere a dog barks.
This time, when the chauffeur opens the backseat door he lets Primo exit and meet Majid in the crisp night air. The two of them stand silently across from each other, only a scant few feet apart. Primo is dressed in a close-fitting red suit so dark it might as well be black. 
Beware, the devil wears red… 
Unabashed green eyes soak in his appearance, slow and sultry over all his edges and curves. Majid holds himself still, blazer tucked in the crook of his left arm. The purposeful posture highlights the gleaming watch adorning Majid’s wrist. It doesn’t go unnoticed.
Primo blinks once, tongue blatantly stroking along his bottom lip, “Do you like it, my boy?”
His husky words are a temptation, promising notes ringing in the air between them. Shuddering madly and unable to speak, all Majid does is nod. A smile carves its way onto Primo’s face, chiseling dimples in his cheeks. Those eyes of his are electric. He takes a step closer, bringing a cloud of that damn cologne with him--Majid inhales sharply--then promptly backing off to the side. A playful little dance that leaves Majid absolutely reeling. One gentlemanly sweep of his hand, Primo beckons him towards the belly of the rumbling car. 
…So tempt away, devil, Majid thinks carelessly and ducks inside. 
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talesofealdancynedom · 6 months ago
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Tale 12: Orpheus Hawkwing & Cerberus Moonflare 4/5
(chapter 4. Finding a Home 4/5) part 3. Stories of True Love
Orpheus woke up one day to Cerberus cuddled next to him, clinging to him and smelling his warm soft cotton t-shirt. Orpheus had spent so long alone working inter-realm, it made him eager to indulge in his affections. And their roommate situation had turned into more than roommates as a result. Cerberus was much shorter then Orpheus, and made an excellent soft, warm, cuddler. They both needed the therapeutic benefits of snuggling. It gave both of them great joy to wake up with someone they loved next to them. Orpheus, once a paladin of great status with many solitary travels, now felt comfortable and safe, pondering pursuing a small peaceful life and family. Cerberus gave him a kiss good morning.
“Would you like to go back to Ealdan Cynedom?” Orpheus asked. Cerberus nodded yes. They were positively homesick. On their next shore leave they bought a family sized home in the magic district of Pepperidge near Tiberius gate. In their months of dating they had found a Fountain nymph named Glandel, or Glen, who they had befriended. She was under cover as a medic like Cerberus, but like them, just wanted a home again. Glen was stubborn and managed to convince them to give her a room in the house. Pepperidge was a magic forest now, and as mages Cerberus and Orpheus had no qualms fostering rare naiads. If anything, Cerberus’s older brother Ursus would be happy they were caring for one of his step daughters.
A few days later Cerberus and Orpheus went to the capital of the Grand West for a weekend, to visit some of their holiday attractions. It was a lovely winter that year, and though the solstice had passed, the decorations and festivities always went on for a few more days. They could go by train together, and hold hands while they walked around. Though cars and magic existed, nothing was more popular than the public trains, it was an experience. From poor heating and cooling, to the paint stripping from the wood; booth or bench, everyone had nostalgia for trains, and everyone had a travel partner. Once at their destination, Orpheus wanted to do normal non-magic things like normal couples do. They walked down the snowing street; arms intertwined.
“It would be nice to get away from the apartment and actually live in the house.” Cerberus sighed. Orpheus didn’t respond, he just leant in closer. Currently, Cerberus’s mother and father were living in the house with Glen, in a sort of extended family situation. Melida would bend over backwards for her sons now that they were proven alive. She was even working on clearing Cerberus’s records, as Morgan presented the evidence and leads. If Cerberus’s name was cleared, he could return to Ealen Cynedom permanently, and practically begged Orpheus to come with him. Orpheus’s job was on the line due to his fading interest in being a paladin, but he still needed employment. It all seemed a little fast, but he was also in love.
The date lasted all day, they shared popcorn and played twenty questions. They shared stories of growing up in the Capital as they passed familiar buildings. They went about in normal clothes, even though Magic users are obligated to wear their fairy robes; Orpheus wore cashmere sweaters, knit scarves for Eros his familiar to nest in, and nuzzle behind his neck to stay warm. Cerberus wore a hoodie and parka, in which his familiar, the sugar glider Achilles, poked his head from the zipped collar. At the mall they walked around window shopping festive displays and lights while holding hands.
The next morning, they awoke in a pillow fort in their hotel room and then went to a nearby dinner to share waffles for brunch. They exchanged ugly sweaters they had bought at the mall as gifts. They had accidently bought the exact same monstrosity for the other.
“Excellent,” Eros said, “matching outfits are a couple must have. Now you have to wear them together the rest of the day. Not optional!” She chirped.  They found a skating rink and tried going skating, even though they were both terrible at it, followed by a leisurely walk down the street to find a nice café for some warm drinks and treats.
“This is great, and I don’t just mean the cake and coffee. It’s nice to be with you doing small things like this.” Cerberus said.  “When I lived in grand snow it was like an ancient village, and a magical winter forest. They practiced old traditions, and one was wedding ceremony special for mages. They had lots of old records and traditions; including a peaceful love of magic, and adoration of mages.”
“You don’t say…” Orpheus responded using his finger to brush the whip off Cerberus’s face. Cerberus needed a shave. Orpheus didn’t say anything because he kind of liked it.
“I don’t mean to rush or anything, I know it hasn’t been a year yet. Love magic and true love isn’t a joke here.” Cerberus advised.
“I love you. I totally say yes. Screw it. Don’t you feel the same? You just went on about wanting me to join you here and brought up love traditions. You wouldn’t have said that if you weren’t actually considering it. We can dig up some records about how mages used to get hitched to revive a tradition.” Orpheus suggested.
“Next you’re going to say your new found mystical musical passion makes you want to switch careers to giving children piano lessons.”
“Not a bad idea, but a poor way to avoid the subject. We are having this discussion. You opened this door.”
“I’ll think about it. But I don’t think the community will comply. Is gay marriage legal in the Grand West? Are mage traditions like this legal?” Cerberus panicked.
“Yes. Also, it’s technically not legally marriage. It would be a love or binding spell, I think. I had to take law in paladin academy. And seriously, do we really need tax benefits?” Orpheus finished. Orpheus gave up trying to convince his partner to thoroughly think over being his official soul mate for now. He would hold onto that thing about piano lessons though. The tailor Orpheus had played for to pay off his fairy robes, had sent the piano to their new home when he caught word about Orpheus being back in town. The tailor had gone into a retirement home and had nowhere to put a piano. Orpheus was thrilled by the prospect of playing again.
Finishing their tea time, Cerberus and Orpheus walked off bickering like a married couple about whether giving commoners wands to wield magic was good or not, because one of Cerberus’s ancestors did it. A paladin noticed their familiars and conversation about magery as they walked by them. All magic users must identify themselves by wearing their robes and magery is punishable by death. The paladin saw himself completely in the right when he attacked to apprehend them. The spell he used hit Orpheus with such a blast it threw him into a nearby pillar breaking his left pelvis and collar bone. The very reason the paladin attacked was the very reason they took so much damage. Had they been wearing their fairy robes instead of matching sweaters, the spell and impact would have done nothing.
Cerberus called for help and ran to Orpheus. This attack caught Orpheus, Cerberus, and the public off guard. Cerberus then went dark and guarded Orpheus like an angered dog. As the paladin went to fire another shot from his wand a tall woman in purple dragon robes with white hair and pink eyes tapped his shoulder
“Lead paladin, Melida Daigendun...these men must be arrested for-” the paladin began.
“Don’t point your wand at my son.” Melida scorned, pointing her lance at him.
NEXT--->
<---PREVIOUS
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eternalgoldfish · 6 months ago
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u got me so horny (part one) | (part two) | (part three) | (part four) | (part five) | (part six) | (part seven) | (part eight) | (part nine) | 
(now all on AO3) 
Somehow, Steve’s on his back again. Which would be fine, except, well. He’s pretty sure this wasn’t what they’d agreed on, when he was sweet talking Billy on the way back from the cafeteria, Billy shoving him along after a late dinner, both of them basically jeering one another.
He’s pretty sure that Billy had said, Yeah, fuck yeah, when Steve had grabbed his collar in the hall, crashed their lips together like, I wanna fuck you, baby. Can I fuck you?
They’ve always had slightly different love languages, (not that this is love,) but Steve thought he was being pretty assertive. You know, like, using his words and I  statements and all that. Clear consent. But Billy’s got Steve naked and pinned down, got Steve’s thighs spread wide and their dicks moving together like Billy might just shift his hips and take what he wants. And it’s hot -- the idea of Billy inside him -- but it’s not what he wants.
It has his dick twitching like it always does, makes him wonder why he spent so many fucking years pretending gay porn didn’t do it for him. Makes him fuck himself with his fingers sometimes when he gets off now, thinking about how he could get some on camera to send to Billy. Maybe thinks about how fucked Billy would be if he opened a text like that in class, how Steve would get fucked after.
Normally, that would be great, perfect, but.
He runs his hands up Billy’s chest, groans in his mouth, tugs his hair. Talks against his lips like, “Can’t wait to finger fuck you, baby,” just trying to get things back on track, “Wanna be on your knees for me?”
Billy seems to freeze, like maybe he forgot. Or like maybe Steve fucked up, didn’t get something. Billy lets out a slow breath. Steve’s stomach drops right through the bed and hits the floor with a wheezy squelch, thinks for sure that he’s killed this, even if he doesn’t know how--
Then Billy’s bending down for another kiss, slow, grinding their hips together. “Want you to blow me when you do it,” he says.
Oh. “I can do that.” Steve breathes.
Somehow, Billy’s the one on his back now, legs shoved up as Steve kisses him, and it’s. Well, this part isn’t new, but Steve feels over-hot as he kisses down to one of Billy’s nipples, knows Billy’ll let him suck it as long as he wants, knows Billy knows him. Feels like his skin might vibrate off in anticipation, sweat half nervousness as he scratches his nails over Billy’s thighs.
He doesn’t linger, although he wants to. Doesn’t want to miss one opportunity for another. He takes Billy in his hand and strokes him twice, mouths just the tip a moment. Billy moans like maybe he’s going to throttle him.
“Are you going to do it, or what?”
Well now, haven’t the tables fucking turned.
“Patience, patience,” Steve says, letting go to fight with the lube, so when he takes him in his mouth again, he can press into Billy with his other hand.
Billy stiffens, takes a sharp breath that maybe isn’t the kind Steve wants, that maybe has Steve worried, but it’s followed by, “Are you gonna fingerbang me, or are we practicing a prostate exam?”
Because apparently nothing shuts him up.
Around his fingers, Billy is tight, and Steve’s fucked himself open enough to tell the difference now. He takes his time to work Billy over, but that doesn’t mean he’s slow about it. Before long, Billy is cursing, fingers welting Steve’s shoulders and dick leaking in Steve’s mouth, breath catching like, “Think I’m good. Get off. I want it from the back.”
Steve doesn’t scramble, exactly, but the way he moves isn’t dignified. He almost drops the condom getting it on, which is just ridiculous. For a second, he kind of forgets what he’s even meant to be doing, brain too caught on how Billy looks on his hands and knees, back arched a bit as he pumps his dick, waiting. Blond curls stick to his neck and shoulders. This close, peering over the skin of Billy’s back in a way Steve’s never really seen before, Billy’s got tiny scars, tens of them, maybe a hundred.
“I’m not going to beg, pretty boy,” Billy says, canting his hips back, almost sounding a little mean. Fucking strung out. “You need me to show you where to put your cock? Maybe fuck it for you?”
“No,” Steve says quick, wiping the back of his wrist over his mouth. Brain lag, maybe. 
Billy reaches around to stick the tips of his fingers in himself, and it’s definitely brain lag. Billy’s like, “Or I can still fuck your pussy, if you’ve changed your mind.”
They don’t even say shit like that, really, but it gets Steve moving, mouth bone-dry as he knocks Billy’s hand away and lines up, pushes in.
It’s. Not to be dramatic, but Billy’s ass just taking him is maybe one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. Ever felt. Maybe has him a bit nervous that he’s going to come on the second thrust. 
Billy also wasn’t fucking lying. He’s not chill about the way they move, rocks his hips to meet Steve’s cock with the same fervor as when he’s got Steve bent over the edge of his bed, pants still around one leg and socks still on as Billy fucks into him. He coaxes Steve the same way.
“You really like this, sweetheart?”  Steve nearly-teases, breathless between moans and forehead pressed to Billy’s back. 
“Like making you my bitch,” Billy says back, half groan, half low-laugh. “Are you going to beg to come in me, princess?”
And unlike Billy, Steve’s never above begging.
---
They don’t talk about it, after. Steve thinks they probably should, thinks this probably means something bigger, that maybe they should do some of that sharing shit they’ve started doing, because maybe that’s healthy. But Billy’s grabbing shorts from the floor and stepping over to the window with a cigarette, and Steve is warm and sleepy, blankets sloppily tugged over him, and it’s just easier.
They’re going to have to talk about something, eventually. When Billy gets back in bed and wraps his arms around Steve from behind, they don’t. 
When Steve realizes he doesn’t need to ask to stay the night, he doesn’t.
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stuckwithasnakeboy · 6 months ago
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Wrong | Lociet
Description:  Logan comes prepared with blankets, chocolates, and movies. Warnings: Dysphoria, self harm Pairing: Lociet (Logan x Janus) A Little Reminder: If you like it, please, reblog it. It’d help me out a lot and I’d really appreciate it.
    Something people don't realize is that it isn't self hatred. It's not hating yourself because of your body. In fact, it's actually rather the opposite. It's hating your body because of yourself. It's not that you're not skinny enough or that you've got acne. No, it's simply that it's not right.
    Since he was eight— yes, eight— things hadn't been right. Janus was an early bloomer, some may say. His body started to change and he hated it with a passion. Until then he was able to blend in easily with the other boys, excluding his skin condition. Then they started realizing that Janus wasn't exactly who he had said he was, not physically at least. No, what was on his birth certificate wasn't even Janus at all, it was Bethany.
    People thought because he had chosen such a feminine name that he must be faking it but he had had a fascination with mythology since he was very young. He learned of the god Janus when he was six. The god with two faces, the gatekeeper. He had just felt a connection with the name so that's what he went with, no matter how many times people laughed at him.
    No one had ever said the name in front of his parents. It was for the best. His step father often made fun of people in the LGBTQ Community. He had tried to come out to his mother, who had said she supported the community, as asexual and demiromantic several years ago but she scoffed and told him he was too young to know. She forced him to stop talking about it. He saw no point in trying to tell her that he wasn't her darling baby girl.
    Instead he opted to stay hidden in his room. He allowed his body to become covered in scars and his emotions to switch off. Sometimes new scars were made because he couldn't get the switch to turn on and other times because he couldn't get it to switch off. He wore gloves to cover the scars on his hands. He didn't go swimming to cover the oldest ones on his stomach and collar bone. He wore pants long enough so that the ones on his legs didn't peak through. He wore nothing but long sleeved because he knew that it would be easier to see the ones that covered his arms. He allowed himself to be trapped inside his body. It was the only thing allowing him to cling to the earth.
    Are you okay?
    He remembered meeting Logan Foley and that was his first words to him. His voice had been monotoned but his eyes held concerned. That was the first time in years someone had asked him that question and he almost broke down in tears. In fact he did midway through their first conversation.
    He had always been one to step on the brakes before he even turned the key. Before he made the mistake and let them see the worst of him, just how vulnerable he was. He never let them see the worst of him.
    Then he started to feel again. It had almost been a decade, seven years actually, since he allowed himself to feel. It wasn't just the heavy weight that came with the gender on his birth certificate but it was also some kind of happiness. He wasn't used to it so he tried to push Logan away but the teenager remained in his life and he couldn't be more thankful.
    Logan understood that it wasn't all self hatred, the dysphoria. It had helped with his self hatred. Oh, how it had helped the self hatred so much. However, that wasn't exactly what the dysphoria felt like.
    It was the feeling of it all just being wrong. His hips were too wide. His features were too soft. His chest was too big. His voice was too high. He was too short. His hair was too long, even at the shorter length that it was. His feet were too small and so was his waist. It was little things that people often didn't think about yet, while Logan didn't feel it himself, he was willing to listen and learn and understand that it was made of those little things and the big things too.
    What really got Janus was the "time of the month." It made him so extremely dysphoric. It made him want to take out the sharp objects again, more often than not— even with Logan now around— it still happened.
    He sat, bundled up in his room. He was buried underneath a pile of covers. His body curled into the fetal position and sharp pain after sharp pain was felt in his lower stomach.
    There were many names for this time of the month that happened. Some people called it their full moon week. Others called it what many women called it, a period. The word itself made Janus grow more dysphoric. It just reminded him that most men didn't have this problem, this nuance, but Janus did and he hated it. Personally, he preferred the term shark week. It reminded him of sharks, sharks reminded him of scales, scales reminded him of snakes, and snakes were his favorite animal.
    Still, it didn't distract him from the fact that this stabbing sensation was there. Not only did it hurt him physically but mentally as well. It wasn't right. It wasn't him. He didn't need this, it wasn't right. It merely existed to haunt him, taunt him with the reminder of what he didn't possess.
    He heard the door open but paid no mind. If it was a murder or a robber so be it but it was more likely to be Logan. A large jolt of pain ran through his body causing him to audibly wince.
    Wrong.
    "The Imitation Game or Criminal Minds?" yes, it was Logan. His voice came from the kitchen. Janus thanked whatever mighty being existed for his parents' absence otherwise Logan would have never made it into the driveway.
    The choices. Logan knew him so well. Always one for more realistic things. The Imitation Game, a movie his step father forbid him from watching because Alan Turing happened to be a gay man. Criminal Minds, a show his mother banned him from watching because she blamed it for his depression. He wondered how upset she would be when she figured out her actions largely affected how he viewed himself.
    "The Imitation Game and then Criminal Minds," Janus declared and though he couldn't see it he knew Logan was smiling, even if it was barely there.
    "Your room or the living room?" he then asked.
    He pulled the blankets even tighter around him. "My—" he winced loudly. Wrong!—"My room, please."
    Logan appeared a moment later with pain medicine and water in one had, a chocolate shake in the other. He really didn't deserve Logan. He gave Janus the pills first and the water first and then the shake. He knew actual chocolate just worsened Janus's dysphoria but he also knew that he'd crave it.
    He disappeared for a moment before he came back with the movie and show DVDs. He turned on the tv and then turned on the movie.
    "Are you paying attention?" the voice of Benedict Cumberbatch said as Logan decided to do with his hands now that he was sitting on the bed with Janus. One wrong move and his dysphoria would worsen. He placed his hand on Janus's shoulder but quickly retracted it when he realized that Janus had visibly winced and not because of shark week.
    He grabbed hold of Logan's hand and forced it to his side. He looked their arms together and placed his head on Logan's shoulder. "Good. If you're not listening carefully you will miss things."
    So the movie continued and throughout it things just keep getting worse and worse. The effects of shark week becoming more and more prominent. He felt like his chest was larger, it was already too large. The blankets seemed to conspire against him as they seemed to tighten around his hips and waist. His hair keep falling into his face. It was becoming too much.
    Logan took note of the way that Janus's hands started to lightly bang against his thigh but there wasn't anything he could do. He knew if he went to grab Janus's hand he would simply pull its away.
    The bangs increased in speed and strength. Logan eyed him carefully. They stopped for a minute but Janus's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes closed. It was s minute, possibly two before his hands went up to his temples. They stayed there for a minute before the banging started again.
    "Wrong. Wrong. Wrong," he repeated the words, his tone gradually rising each time he said it, his bangs getting more and more aggressive.
    Logan grabbed hold of Janus's hands. He struggled against Logan's grip but eventually stopped when the tears started to flow. He started to get chocked up when Logan pulled him in for a hug and did his best to calm him. He sobbed into Logan's chest. This was part of the effects of being trans. It was the constant feeling that it was all just wrong.
    He didn't stop mumbling the word in between the sobs. It was all just wrong.
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romanoffswifey · 7 months ago
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Gay Paris
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Summary: Natasha takes you on a surprise date to Paris for the night. You both have a very good time.
Contents/Warnings: fluff, smut, and a bit of fluff within the smut
Words: 1,518
AN - I’m not sure if I went off on one with the context for the smut here, but it did give me an idea for a fic where Nat is wearing an entirely different kind of outfit under that trench coat 😏
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When Natasha had told you she was taking you to the city of love for the evening, you’d thought you had forgotten an important date for a second. Relaxing after she’d laughed and said that she just wanted to do something nice together, you happily agreed.
You always cherished the times when the redhead tried to do something romantic for you.
Though, once you had landed the jet and made your way up to the hotel room to get ready for dinner, you start to think she might have some ulterior motive going on. Having repeatedly caught her giving you these odd little looks.
Your suspicions only grow when she hands you the dress she’d bought for you and then goes into the bathroom to get changed by herself. Walking out wearing a knee length trench coat. Despite it being both early evening, and late summer.
She just grins and winks in response to your questioning look. Coming over to grab your hand with a quick peck on the lips, and pulling you out the door.
After you arrive at your table on the restaurant balcony, you quickly find out exactly what game she’s trying to play. Nearly choking when she finally takes off her coat.
Her red dress had the lowest cut you’d ever seen. The neckline forming a deep ‘v’ that ended low enough for the tops of her abs to be peaking out, and it’s colour perfectly complimenting her hair and bringing out her eyes.
However, her plan ended up backfiring on her a little bit. Maybe she’d done too good of a job when picking out your dress for the evening.
The black material hugged you in all the right places, the tight fit of the sleeves and the sheer patterns running down the sides gave her a good view of some of your own muscles. Among other things.
The small smirk you had while reading the menu told her you had noticed her staring.
You and Natasha spend your meal lovingly gazing into each other’s eyes and playing with the other’s hands, as equally as you spend it teasing and wiggling your eyebrows at each other.
Although, when you’ve finished, the assassin is quick to pay the bill and practically drags you back through the parisian streets.
“If you wanted to get into my pants, you didn’t have to fly halfway around the world to do it,” you say between messy kisses as Natasha pushes you against the wall, “You know I always enjoy going for a roll around with you.” You flip your positions and attach your lips to her neck.
She lets out a throaty chuckle. “Oh, I know you do krasivaya, especially with all the noise you make,” she says, throwing her head back and trying to grind her hips into yours.
“I just want you to know how good you make me feel.” You playfully nip at her bottom lip as you trail your hands around to grab her backside, making her kiss you with a groan.
“Well, I do like to please my woman,” the redhead murmurs. Her lips brushing yours as she squeezes your hips and begins walking you backwards to the bed.
You hum in agreement. “And you do a very good job of it, dorogoy.” Rubbing your nose against hers and adding, “I had a lot of fun tonight.”
“So did I, moya lyubov.” She smiles and gives you a kiss that’s much softer, but more passionate.
You both sigh as she pulls you closer, and you run your fingers through her hair. Letting your tongues brush against one another as you lazily explore each other’s mouths. After a little while it gets heated again and you pull away, tugging at her lower lip.
“Maybe it’s time I treated you this evening,” you push her onto the bed and crawl on top of her. “Because as nice as dinner was, I have a feeling that desert is going to be orgasmic,” you husk, licking up the exposed valley of her chest and sucking a bruise into her throat when you reach the top.
Natasha tilts her head back with a moan and her fingers go to the zip of your dress. Dragging it down so she can roughly shove her hands beneath the fabric.
You force your hands under her so you can undo her’s as well. Laving over your latest love bite, before standing up so you can rip the dress and heels from her in one go.
Your breath catches at the sight before you.
“See something you like, babe?” your girlfriend teases, putting her hands behind her head and arching her back. She hadn’t been able to wear a bra with her dress, and you’re fairly sure the thong she had on couldn’t really be classed as underwear.
You let your own dress fall to the floor, kicking off your shoes and climbing back onto the bed.
“Let’s see if you taste as good as you look,” you husk. Giving her a bruising kiss before sliding down her body. You take off her last piece of clothing and lean forward, staring into her eyes as you slowly lick up the length of her dripping cunt.
You moan at her taste and the vibrations make her hips jerk and a small gasp leave her lips.
Natasha’s eyes fall shut, and one of her hands makes its way into your hair as you get to work. Fully intent on devouring her.
When you have to use a bit more force to keep her thighs open you know she’s close. Her grip on your hair hard as a string of curses and pleas stream from her mouth, slipping in and out of russian.
“O Bozhe,” she chokes, as you wrap your lips around her clit. The extra pressure making her tip over the edge with a scream of your name.
You lap up her juices as she lays there twitching and panting. Then pepper little kisses up her body when you move to lie beside her.
“That good huh?” you ask smugly, seeing the blissed out smile on the redhead’s face.
She pulls you down by the back of your neck. Giving you a deep kiss and moaning into your mouth when she tastes herself there.
“How about I show you how good it was,” she says, rolling you both over so she’s straddling your waist. She grinds down into you as her hands trail up your sides and around your back to unclasp your bra. Once she’s thrown it over her shoulder somewhere, she bends down, blowing cool air onto your hard nipple before taking it into her hot mouth.
Your back arches and you push her head closer to your chest. Releasing a small groan when she grazes her teeth across the sensitive nub and moves over to lavish the other.
When Natasha is satisfied with the amount of marks she’s left on your breasts and collar bones, she pulls you up so you’re sat in her lap with your legs wrapped round her hips. She growls when she realises your still wearing panties, and hooks her fingers around them, tearing them off without either of you having to move.
“Someone's feeling a bit extra tonight,” you chuckle as you start to rub yourself up and down her stomach.
“Extra, but hot,” she smirks. Roughly grabbing your arse to help pull you tighter against her.
Your reply ends up becoming a moan as the assassin attaches her lips to the spot just under your jaw. She forces her hand between your bodies so she can reach your wet heat, and you tip your head back with a shuddering breath as she easily slips two fingers into you.
“You’re soaked milaya,” she groans into your neck, and starts pumping into you. She can feel how worked up you already were by the way you fluttered around her fingers.
When her fingers brush against the spot inside you, you cry out, and she makes sure to hit it with every stroke after. Picking up her pace and circling your clit with her thumb.
You stiffen in her lap and make a strangled noise for a second. Then you scream and Natasha has to hold you up, whispering sweet words into your ear as you shudder with your orgasm. She can feel your release dripping down her front.
You pull her down onto the bed with you once you’ve come down enough. The pair of you tangled loosely together and slightly out of breath.
Your girlfriend turns to look at you, all molten eyes with a smile on her face, and you grin back as you push away the strands of hair that are stuck to her sweaty forehead. She shuffles closer and nudges your nose with her own.
“Ya lyublyu tebya Y/N,” she murmurs, giving you a gentle kiss.
“I love you too, Tasha.”
Her smile widens and she gives you a longer kiss. The both of you wrapping your arms round each other as you get lost in it.
“So, round two then?”
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colehasapen · 7 months ago
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(ONE SHOT) cabur STAR WARS
Jango doesn't know how long he’s been caged.
It could have been days, it could have been months - hells, it could have been years. Jango can’t tell with his mind fogged by spice and agony. His body aches, and Jango is pretty sure his hands have permanently curled into claws from the never ending physical labour, and his back has been flayed by the beatings. He’s spent his days since - since Galidraan - wallowing in a drug-filled haze of never-ending monotony interspersed with violent whippings, and any moment the drugs fade enough for Jango to think, to remember, he almost chokes on his own burning hatred when it claws its way back up to the surface.
It makes him want the haze of drugs. He welcomes it, because it drowns out the grief, the guilt, the memories, and his overwhelming hatred of everything and everyone - including himself.
He’s a failure, a coward - if he had been a better Mand’alor, his people wouldn’t have died, or he would have done them the honour of dying with them. He’s no longer Mando’ad. He has no armour, it had been stolen from him and was probably being used as some shiny trophy for that aruetyc shabuir of a Governor. He has no defense, it’s been taken from him by the collar around his neck and the brand burned into his chest - he’s a slave now, and slaves can’t defend themselves. His tribe is gone, slaughtered on Galidraan and dismembered by those skanah jetiise , their bodies probably left to rot with no one to complete their final rites and thus no way to join the manda. He has no reason to speak the language, because slaves aren’t permitted to speak, and he’d have no one to share it with anyways. And as for his leader?
Well, Jango had failed spectacularly as Mand’alor. He had gotten his people - Jaster’s people - killed, his failure had destroyed the Haat Mando’ade. He had destroyed Jaster’s legacy.
He had failed his people, he had failed himself, and he had failed his Buir. He should have died that day with his parents, he should have burned with their farmhouse. Maybe if he had, Jaster would have saved Arla as soon as he heard her screaming if he hadn’t been weighed down by Jango - he has no doubt Jaster could have pulled her out of the flames if he hadn’t been honour-bound to protect Jango.
None of this would have happened if Jango had died then. But he hadn’t, and now everything and had known and loved was gone - and it was his fault.
Jango doesn’t bother looking up from his huddle in the corner of his too-small cage when he hears the masters walking down the rows. He barely acknowledges their voices. Instead, he stays where he is, considering whether or not to let the fog drag him under again.
A yelp has him jerking.
It was the pained cry of a child - an ad - and it has Jango beating back the numbness of the spice and lifting his head.
The large Twi’lek overseer had stopped in front of Jango’s cage, his meaty hand curled solidly around a chain leading to the collar around the small, pale throat of a Human or Near-Human child with fluffy ginger hair and glazed blue eyes.
“You sure about that, Tol?” The Zeltron at the overseer’s side asks, red eyes lingering on Jango’s huddled form. “Y’know what they say about Mandos-”
The Twi’lek snorts, moving to unclasp the gate to Jango’s cage. “Good thing we ain’t got no Mandos here then. Only slaves . This one was good and broken before we got it.” The overseer sneers, and with a jerk of the Twi’lek’s hand, the scared ad stumbles toward him.
Jango twitches as those cruel fingers lock around the child’s delicate neck, and the adiik flinches. He must not be as far under the thrall of the spice if he could still react like that, and Jango twitches again against the desire to throw himself forward to defend the tiny adiik.
“Be good now, slave.” The overseer coos mockingly, unhooking the chain from the explosive rigged to the small child’s neck. “We paid some good creds for you - I’d hate to be the one telling Lord du Crion that we had to blow you up.”
The child stares back, fire sparking in those foggy eyes, then they make a pained noise when the overseer gives them a violent shake. The adiik’s head ducks submissively as the Twi’lek sneers at them.
“There’s a good lad.” The Zeltron says in a parody of motherly concern, voice sickly sweet as she toys with the ends of the ad ’s red hair. “That brother of yours wanted us to keep you in one piece until you learned your lesson.”
“He’s not my brother -” The adiik’s retort is cut off by a cry of pain that has Jango gritting his teeth in fury, carefully uncoiling himself from the tight ball he had been curled into before. The kid hits the floor of his cage with a bone-jarring thud, and Jango rolls stiffly to his knees as the slave masters laugh.
“That’s your final warning, slave.” The Twi’lek sneers, looking down his nose at the two slaves as he shuts the cage once more. “You talk back to me again and I’ll whip you ‘til you bleed.”
Jango glowers at the two slavers thunderously from under his shaggy hair as the march away, and the ad barely stirs from his sprawl. He grits his teeth, holding his tongue until the overseers are out of sight, before he’s shuffling forwards, towards the limp child that had unexpectedly become his companion.
“Me’vaar ti gar?” He calls softly to the adiik, who flinches, scrambling clumsily onto his hands and knees to stare up at Jango with a wide-eyed glare. He’s scared, Jango can tell immediately, but there’s still a fire burning inside of him that almost has Jango smiling.
He’s definitely Mandokarla , and just looking at him makes Jango ache for home. If they weren’t in this cage - if they were back on Manda’yaim - Jango has no doubt that someone would be snatching this adiik up and adopting him into their aliit . It makes him think of Myles, of the last thing his cyare had said to him before they had rushed into battle - about how he wanted to raise warriors with him - and Ka’ra does it hurt. He tries not to think about the way Myles’ body had been split in half. They would have said their vows after Galidraan had this been a kinder galaxy.
Carefully, Jango sits back on his heels, lifting his hands to show the kid that he means no harm. He probably looks frightening to the already scared adiik , with his unwashed hair and ungroomed beard - not to mention the thick layer of dirt, spice, and blood that covered his face. “Udesii, ad’ika.” He soothes, and the little Lothcat just bares his teeth at him, as threatening as a kitten - and the thought almost makes Jango snort.
Well, if there was any way to calm a feral kitten.
He glances around, then carefully choreography his movements as he pulls his half-eaten gruel towards them, then pushes it at the adiik. “Haili cetare, verd’ika.” He offers, and the kid eyes him suspiciously for a long moment before he reaches forward to tug the bowl closer. The kid hesitates, eyes darting from the bowl, to Jango, then skittering around the cage, and Jango raises his eyebrows in a silent question.
“Is -” The adiik’s voice is rough from spice-inhalation, but Jango can just pick up the refined High Core accent he spoke with - not surprising if was was apparently the brother of a Lord, and doesn’t that knowledge piss Jango off further.
What kind of dar’vod hut’uun sell their own vod’ika into slavery?
The ad flinches, ducking his head, and Jango curses himself, carefully schooling his face into the political mask Jaster had drilled into his thick head.
“Udesii.” Jango says again, and the child steadily relaxes again. “Copaani gaan?” He probes, a little teasingly and hoping to put the kid more at ease.
The adiik bites his lip, looking up at Jango from under dark lashes. “Are there utensils?” He asks in a rush, before he blushes and ducks his head shyly.
Utensils - Jango snorts. The kid really was some fancy Core lordling.
“Nayc, ad’ika.” He shakes his head, and the kid deflates, looking at the bowl in his dirty hands in dismay. The adiik hesitates a moment longer, before sighing quietly and beginning to use his fingers to scoop the unappetizing mush into his mouth. Jango only watches fondly for a moment, studying the kid; he had obviously been well-fed and well-cared for before his dar’vod had sold him. He’s lanky in the way kids get on the cusp of puberty, and his hair is a rare red-gold that actually makes Jango glad that the adiik had been sold to a spice rig instead of to someone with a taste for the exotic. He might even have some biological resistance to toxins, from the way the adiik grows sharper and more alert with every moment that passes.
He wonders if anyone would be missing this kid.
Well, they should have kept a better eye on him, obviously.
“Tion’ad hukaat’kama, adiik?” Jango asks, watching the kid lick the bowl clean, and big doe eyes blink back at him, confused. “Tion gar gai?”
The adiik blinks again, carefully rubbing his mouth with the filthy sleeve of his stained tunic as his brows furrow. “I’m sorry -” he says slowly, “- do you speak Basic? I don’t understand you.”
Jango blinks right back, a little taken aback - it had been so long since he had spoken to anyone . He hadn’t even realized that his mouth was forming the vowels of his mother tongue. “I -” Basic feels odd on his tongue, but the kid brightens, so Jango will put up with it until he can teach him Mando’a, “- yeah. I speak Basic.”
The kid beams at him and - haar’chak - he has dimples. He would have definitely been adopted in a heartbeat.
“Was wondering your name.” Jango grunts, and the verd’ika ’s smile turns shy.
“I’m Obi-Wan.” The kid introduces himself with a little bow that wouldn’t be out of place in a High Core court. “And yourself?” He asks, eyes curious.
“Jango.” He offers gruffly, “Jango Fett.”
Obi-Wan beams at him again, and - kriff, how could anyone sell this kid into slavery. He was too trusting, too innocent - this life would ruin him. “It’s nice to meet you, Master Fett!”
Jango jerks, scowls, and the kid flinches faintly, looking alarmed and confused, so Jango lets out an explosive sigh and forces himself to relax. “Not your master, Ob’ika.” Jango mutters, gesturing for the kid to come closer. Space gets cold, and the adiik would no doubt be feeling it soon. “Just Jango.”
“Okay.” Obi-Wan agrees quietly, shuffling over to the man’s side, and Jango slowly loops an arm around the ad ’s thin shoulders and pulling him even closer, tucking him against his ribs. “How long have you been here, Jango?” The kid asks, curling his fingers into Jango’s ruined kute, and Jango just shrugs awkwardly. There’s a small sniffle in response, as it fully begins to sink in that his dar’vod really had sold him into slavery no doubt.
Jango tightens his hold on the adiik, and in that moment he swears to himself, to the manda, that he’d get out. He’d get them both out.
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glitterbootsharry · 7 months ago
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chapter one.
taglist 
The wooden door with the famous stain glass mermaid window opens as Harry walks through the threshold, jostling the bell. He’s running late, which isn’t normally like him, due to the fact that he couldn’t decide which overcoat to wear, finally deciding on the tan one instead of the navy. He wanted everything to be perfect when meeting Daphne J. His stomach turns as sheds his jacket and carries the garment over his arm while raking his fingers through his brown messy hair.  
He takes off his black flat top baker hat before scanning the pub quickly, a worried look flashing across his face until he saw her sitting on a stool that has a leg a few centimetres short of the others. She’s jostling the chair as she waits for him. He pushes the through the group of friends that are currently yelling orders to the barmaid. She doesn’t look up until he reaches the table.
“Daphne?” he asks, sliding onto the stool. He reaches out for a handshake, but a wide-eyed look takes him aback. She looks up at him with her honey eyes, and smiles at him quizzically. He is nothing like Daphne imagined. She holds onto the small glass cup between her two fingers. The man thanks her for ordering the pint ahead of time. 
“I’ve been proper shacked.”
Not the best way to start the conversation, but Daphne Jones figured it was the best to talk about the invisible elephant in the room first before they got to the good stuff. Harry sits back in his chair as he watches the blonde with the full figure take back a shot of whatever brown liquor she requested. She had worn what she promised: olive green jumper with her hair in a low side bun.
She had seemed alright given the limited messaging they had fueled back and forth. She insisted they meet in a public place, which Harry understood. She even said that she had brought along a friend in case anything weird were to happen. She had stressed the word weird out like Harry had planned on kidnapping the birdie himself or something of that nature.
Sure, Daphne was easy on the eyes to him. She might have even been his type to chat up if they had been two strangers in a pub on a Thursday night, but they were potential flatmates and crossing the lines would bring disaster upon itself.
“But I want to let y’know that I’ve got first and last month’s rent plus possibly a deposit,” Daphne smiles as Harry mulls over the newly presented fact that Daphne now has no job. “Depending on if I get my furniture back from Stephen.”
“Don’t suppose I need any of that. Just want someone to help with bills and such. Mind if I ask why you were sacked?” Harry takes a long sip of beer as Daphne rolls her mouth in. She looks to Eliza, whose sitting at the bar waiting for the signal. If Daphne blinks twice, she’s ready for action.
“I, erm, told the CEO of the company to stuff her opinion of my presentation that could bring the company thousands where it does not shine,” Daphne pouts her lips out as she looks anywhere but Harry’s green eyes. For a stranger, he had a way of making Daphne feel inadequate.
“Mm.”
“She said it didn’t have enough research to help back my idea up. The trollop has no idea how long I’ve done research. I’ve about done my head in with numbers and shit,” Daphne waves for another drink. Her smile is genuine when she looks back at Harry.
“How long have you been without?” Harry rubs his scruffy chin with his thumb and forefinger. Not quite sure how to take Daphne, he still continues to conduct the interview.
“Just today,” Daphne grumbles. She puts her hands in mid air as if she surrenders. “But I would not have come if I didn’t really want to live somewhere besides my friend’s couch. Got an interview Monday.”
Harry is pleased with Daphne’s work ethic. She stands up for herself which would come in handy. when it came to Harry’s mates. 
“Whose Stephen?” Harry remembers the name Daphne mentioned earlier. “Why does he have your furniture?”
“Arsehole of a boyfriend, I’ll tell you that. Ruddy bloke broke it off with me last week via work email because ‘it wasn’t working out’. Well, it wasn’t working out when he started seeing Miss Slag from Accounting, but he kicked me out and I’m stuck with Liza. Fucking ball-bag.”
Harry remembers Katherine from accounting at his job started seeing a Stephen a few weeks back.
“Does this Stephen work for Smith and Weston?”
“Yeah, that’s him. He’s the assistant manager to God knows and he thinks his cock is Jesus Christ himself. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. Do you cook?” Harry asks, leaning his elbows on the table. The short woman brings out the brown liquor and fills Daphne’s small glass.
“Do I need to take offense to that?” Daphne cocks a brow up before throwing back the shot of burning liquid.
“Sorry, I just...” He didn’t know what he wanted to say. “My mum used to cook, and...”
“Used to?” Daphne holds the small cup, anxiety filling her body. She must have said something wrong. “Is she?”
“No, she isn’t dead,” Harry half laughs. “She’s still very much alive. Just haven’t seen her in a bit with me working in the city and all. She’s out in the countryside running a posh little pub like this one.” Daphne sighs, a burst of wind of relief.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Are you gay? Because it’s cool if you are. I just want to be prepared when you bring someone over.” Harry says, his lips forming a tight line. 
“I’m not gay.” Daphne heaves her brow up before letting it down. She looks over at Eliza again- still waiting. “Should I take offense to that?”
Daphne shakes her head. “No. Few more questions. Are you a serial killer?”
“Does it really matter at this point?” Harry takes a long look at the small black line on Daphne’s skin just above her collar bone that is sticking out from under her jumper.
“No I guess not. You’d kill me by now.” Daphne laughs as Harry’s smile widens. She was starting to feel more comfortable around him.
“What’s the view like?”
“Kensington Gardens. Sunset is quite beautiful.”
“I’m in.”
“Just like that?” Harry asks bewildered. “No background checks? No wondering if I own a sex slave? No deranged friend asking the like?”
“As long as you’re not tossing it in the main room, I do not care what you do. That’s your business. Plus, I’m desperate.”
“Well, alright then, I guess you’ll want to see the place. We can schedule-“
“None of that,” Daphne is beginning to get louder as the alcohol soaks into her system. “A round for newfound roomies.” She waves over the waitress and asks for two new shots. Harry smiles at her and watches Daphne become pissed.
☕︎︎
It was sometime before Daphne got up the courage to ask what was desperately eating at her. “Why don’t you have anyone? You’re quite handsome.” She is currently being walked to her new home after she insisted on seeing the view tonight. Daphne had warded Eliza home after much protest.
“Haven’t found the right one, I guess,” Harry hold Daphne’s arm over his shoulder as they wait for the lift to move. Her face is close to Harry’s neck and as she inhales, she smells the distant scent of expensive cologne.
“Forgot to ask you what you do...for a living,” Daphne burps and she tastes the alcohol again.
“I work at Smith and Weston.”
The lift opens up to a wide hallway as Daphne gasps. The cream walls reflect from the lighting hanging on them and the brown carpet runs along the length of the building. Harry stops at the fourth door on the level. “This is where I die, isn’t it?” Daphne giggles.
“Yes,” Harry laughs as he pushes the door open. The white walls illuminate the tile floor as a chandelier hangs down inside the main room. The view from the large windows is currently being blocked by the gray no-peak curtains blanketing the night sky. The brown leather couch sit perpendicular to the widows with the large flat screen television sitting on the wall that cuts into the hallway. Daphne turns and sees the open kitchen with the small island. The brown and grays suddenly stop where the main room begins. Two hallways on either side of the flat run down to the bedrooms and baths. 
“So,” Harry clears his throat after putting Daphne on the brown leather couch. “Your room will be there.” He points in front of him. “And mine is back here.” The hallway with the television leads to Harry’s paradise.
“Nice,” Daphne stretches out her word before smiling, “I’ll like it here. We’ll make a great team.” Daphne yawns before stretching her body on the incredibly soft leather. “Can I stay here seeing how I’m living with you now?”
“Sure, I can get you a blanket or-” Harry is cut off as Daphne speaks over him. “We can share your bed. I need the extra support.’
Harry thinks is over for a moment. “Okay.”
Harry leads Daphne to his bedroom. Everything has its place Daphne noticed. The large television is propped against the wall as it looks down on Harry’s rather large bed. The quilt looks hand made and is very rich in color. Small pictures are gathered on the funiture, but what takes Daphne’s notice is the small bottle of lotion and tissues next to Harry’s sunken side of the bed.
Daphne giggles as Harry lays her down on the right side. He looks up, eyes wide, his cheeks instantly become hot. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Daphne yawns again as she lays down. Her head hits the fluffy pillow and before Harry could peel off his coat, he heard the soft snores escaping Daphne’s mouth.
☕︎︎
“Daph, you twitch in your sleep,” Harry’s voice thick from his slumber. His knuckles rub the blurriness away; his eyes open at the sound of Daphne sighing heavily. “And you moan.”
“Sorry,” Daphne grumbled. She turns her head to face her bedmate- wild blonde hair sticking out of her messy bun. Harry stops himself from taking his fingers through her tangled hair.
“You sound like a proper sex phone operator. Didn’t know if I should wake you or not. Didn’t want to disturb,” Harry chuckled to himself as he lingered on his last word. Dark circles had formed under his new roommate’s eyes.
“Sod off, Harold. Now isn’t the time for your jokes. I had enough of them back at the pub. My head is ringing and I’m looking at an ugly bloke. Not how I wanted to start my morning,” The last bit hurt Harry quite a bit and he didn’t know why.
“I’m not ugly,” Harry sat up on his elbow. He was pleased that Daphne had made through the night alive.
“Arrogance before coffee,” Daphne rolled out of bed- the clothes from last night sticking to her body. “Just how I like my men.” The tone of her voice was what threw Harry for a loop. This wasn’t the same girl from the pub last night. No, the girl last night threw banter around like a child digging in the dirt. The girl before him was unusually cruel.
Harry sighs as he closes his eyes again. He was in it from the get go. 
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artificialqueens · 7 months ago
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These Words are My Own (From My Heart) (Crygi) - Joley
ao3 link
July 22nd 2019
I don’t know what I expected from the first day of filming, but it was… a lot. The two group thing puts on that extra level of pressure, and I can already feel a little sliver of anxiety trying to wiggle its way in. Not that I’d ever let it show, of course. It’s way too early to worry.
As far as the other girls… I actually like them all, which, let’s be honest, is the biggest shock of them all. I almost kind of wanted an enemy. But I think I might have found the opposite. Crystal.
Crystal is weird. She’s so fucking weird, but she’s funny and kind and smells really nice and is super cute out of drag. I don’t know where I’m going with this. We just had an instant connection, and I think it’ll be a nice thing to have in a situation like this.
July 25th 2019
Holy shit. The first episode is done. I’m so fucking tired. And I fucking crushed it, oh my god. I didn’t expect anything less, of course. This is a sign for how the competition’s gonna be for me, I just know it.
But anyways.
Crystal told a joke during dinner that made me shoot water out of my nose. Nicky called me a sprinkler for the rest of the night, so fuck her. Besides, Crystal said it was cute. I know, I’m sounding like I have a crush on her, but I don’t. I just appreciate being around her, we get along well. So let me reiterate: I do not have a crush on Crystal.
July 26th 2019
I have a crush on Crystal.
They’re filming the other premiere today and we had some time to sneak away. I don’t know who she got weed from, but I owe them my life. We shared a joint and whenever she had it I just… stared at her. I don’t know how to explain it – she looked all glowy in the sunlight. Her hair – that fucking mullet – looked so soft and shiny, she looked like art.
I hate her. I want to hold her dumb hand and kiss her stupid face.
July 29th 2019
Crystal has a boyfriend. Of course she has a fucking boyfriend. Why wouldn’t she? There’s probably like, six other gay guys in Springfield and I bet they all want her. This is why I don’t do crushes. Crushes are bullshit. This is bullshit.
But… she held my hand in the van today. That was nice.
Fuck.
July 30th 2019
I kinda avoided Crystal on set today. I felt bad but it just made me sad and that’s not something I’m gonna deal with. I think Jackie suspects something’s up though. Her mama bear senses are tingling, I just know it. I thought it’d be annoying, but it’s nice having someone older and wiser keeping an eye on me.
Oh my god, Jackie’s my babysitter. Maybe I should talk to her about Crystal. I feel like she’d listen. She’ll probably try too hard to help, like it’s a puzzle that she needs to solve, but if I have to tell someone, it’d be her. And maybe it’ll make me miss Crystal a little less.
July 31st 2019
I was wrong, Jackie’s not my babysitter, she’s my mom. Not in a bad way, because obviously my mom’s the best, but in that she got very invested in the Crystal situation in the same way my mom always likes to hear about whatever guy I’m dating.
The good news is that Crystal’s relationship is open. I mean, that is good news, right? It feels like it should be, and my heart wants to latch onto the fact that I could have her in some capacity. Having her in any capacity almost feels like it’d be enough, at least for now.
She asked me if something was wrong, said I seemed ‘distant’. What was I supposed to do, tell her the truth? That’s ridiculous. I just apologized and said I was dealing with migraines. She offered to smoke me out next time she gets her hands on anything. And I know I’m not gonna be able to say no to her, there’s no point in even trying.
August 5th 2019
I think Crystal knows I like her. The energy between us has shifted and it… feels kinda good. She’s more touchy, more giggly. I think she even flirted with me today. I don’t know if she figured it out on her own, or if Jackie told her, but she’s onto me.
The thing is, I don’t know what to do about it. Yes, she’s in an open relationship, so it’s ‘technically’ okay, but it’s not the same. I don’t have anything against it, but… I don’t know, maybe I’m just selfish and want Crystal all to myself.
I feel guilty, then I feel stupid for feeling guilty, because I know I don’t need to be. Make it make sense.
August 6th 2019
If Jackie tells me one more time that I ‘need to talk to Crystal about my feelings’, I’m gonna blow up her spot about all those not-so-platonic gazes she keeps directing at a certain singing queen. She thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s not subtle either. I wouldn’t do it on camera, though. That’d get too messy.
Besides, I don’t even know where to begin when it comes to explaining how I feel anyway. I don’t like explaining myself and I don’t like all that ‘bare your soul’ type of emotional intimacy. All I know is that I want Crystal in every way you can want someone. But that doesn’t seem like enough to say. Like, if I’m gonna spill my guts, I’d have to go all out. And I don’t want to do that. So. I’m gonna stay quiet and wait for this to blow over, like a normal person.
August 9th 2019
Crystal kissed me.
We were in the back of the van. I was talking about… I don’t even remember what I was talking about, but out of nowhere, she just kisses me, like it was normal, like it was the easiest thing in the world. It was soft, gentle, but with this little hint of desire that still has me hot under the collar.
And I didn’t know what to say. What the fuck was I supposed to say? I asked, “what was that for?” And she just smiled and said “you look really pretty and I wanted to.”
I wish I could’ve said something smart and funny, or flirt and bat my lashes. But no, that’s Gigi’s confidence and attitude. This was all Sam, an idiot whose brain short-circuited after one kiss. “Oh, thanks,” was all I said and I’m gonna be kicking myself for it until I’m dead. And right now, I’m hoping that’s soon.
August 12th 2019
I kissed Crystal this time. I needed to gain some semblance of control here. She seemed surprised, but also kind of relieved. Had she been worried I was mad or freaked out? Funny enough, her being relieved made me feel relieved too. I think we’re on the same page now. I don’t know what this means for us now, but I feel like it means something.
August 13th 2019
The good news is I’ve got Jackie off my back for now. The bad news is it’s because her girlfriend is probably planning my murder. I mean, at the end of the day, a win is a win. But the bruise I had on my ass for a week is a poignant reminder that Jan was a jock who could snap me in half if she wanted to.
Which is also weirdly hot? I can see why Jackie’s ‘secretly’ pining for her and shit. Or maybe I’m getting too lonely and need to get Crystal’s mouth on me again. Not even in a dirty way, though that mental image sure is nice…
August 14th 2019
Maybe I thought about that mental image too much, because I had a sex dream about Crystal last night, like, a hot one.
We were in the werkroom, the only ones in there, and Crystal’s sitting up on one of the tables, I’m standing in between his legs and we’re making out. Then it’s kinda blurry, but next, we’re both naked and I have him bent over the table. And I can remember pulling his hair and listening to him moan while I fuck him. It felt real, and I haven’t had a wet dream since high school.
I just hope it doesn’t affect me when I get on set, I can’t afford to lose focus because I’m too busy thinking about jumping Crystal’s bones.
August 19th 2019
So… I guess in a way, I manifested more physical intimacy between Crystal and I. I was telling him how I was all stressed and wound up after not doing well in the last challenge, and that I don’t think I did well with this one, and he’s quiet for a moment, then goes “let me help you feel better.”
And I’m just like, okay? I didn’t know what to expect, but then he takes his jacket off and puts it over my lap and… I’m perplexed. I’m intrigued. I’m aroused. Even when he’s undoing my jeans, I’m thinking, ‘there’s no way he’s actually gonna do this, right?’ But the only person that keeps an eye on us in the van is Jackie, and he’s got his own problems to worry about.
Long story short, Crystal jerked me off in the back of the van. It was hotter than I thought it’d be – I guess having to stay quiet because four other queens and a PA could’ve caught us adds an extra thrill. Of course, I would’ve returned the favor if we’d had time. Next time, though. Next time.
August 21st 2019
‘Next time’ did happen, and it came back to bite me on the ass. I didn’t think people really had Freudian slips until the way I said “we’re fucking in the top six” in Untucked. It didn’t help that Crystal had this smirky grin. Ugh, I could’ve died.
I feel like everyone knows, honestly. That they’re just not saying anything to be polite. I’m sure once this is all over, I’ll never hear the end of it, though.
August 24th 2019
I think I’m in love with Crystal. I knew I loved her, admired her, but… it’s more than that. And I think I’ve known for a while, but I haven’t been able to articulate it. Because it feels so different from anything I’ve ever felt before. Crystal is so different from anyone I’ve ever met before.
I don’t know what this means for us when this is all over. It’s not like I expect her to leave her boyfriend and move in with me here in LA. But I wouldn’t say no to that either, you know? Right now I feel selfish, that I just want her all to myself. But maybe I’m just sad that come Monday, it’ll be the last chunk of time we’ll have together for a while.
It’s barely been over a month and I already can’t picture my world without her. And… yeah, I’m in love with her.
August 29th 2019
Crystal and I had one day together before he had to go back home, and we made the most of it. We did the cute shit like go out to eat and take a walk, but I also got to take him back to my apartment and fuck him like I wanted to since day one.
I don’t know what this means for us, now. He’s back in Missouri, getting ready for the next Get Dusted show. I’m here, still in full drag after a photoshoot. I guess this is ‘back to normal’, but I don’t know how anything is ever going to feel normal again.
October 18th 2019
Filming Drag Race feels worlds away now, it’s weird being too busy to write most of the time. But by the same hand, it’s nice to always be occupied, lord knows I need it.
I still talk to Crystal every day, either through text or calls or FaceTime. It’s nice to be reassured he thinks of me as much as I think of him. When I’m alone, I start to worry that maybe this was one-sided. But I don’t need to say that to him, he can tell when I feel weird and talks me down without even trying.
The thing is, I’ve always felt the most beautiful when I am Gigi, like it’s the best representation of who I am. But Crystal makes me feel beautiful even when I just woke up and he’s listening to me complain about greasy skin. I didn’t really think about something like that, about letting someone else make me feel the way I thought I could only do for myself.
Crystal is just that special.
November 2nd 2019
Crystal told me he’s in love with me for the first time. I knew, I think I knew, but I didn’t realize how much it would mean to finally hear it. I cried, and I couldn’t even be embarrassed about it.
What was funny to me was when Crystal apologized. He said he’d known for so long, and felt guilty that he kept waiting to say it. He told me he didn’t think he could give me what he wanted because he wants to stay in Missouri. I told him I don’t care how far apart we are, or who he was with.
We have something special. I don’t care what it is, we’ll make it work. And besides, the promo shoot is just two months away.
January 4th 2020
I can’t even begin to explain how good it feels to be back with the cast. Obviously I’m thrilled to see Crystal, but all of us together just makes me feel whole. Jackie asked me how things with Crystal are, I said they couldn’t be better. I asked how things with Jan are, she said there are ‘a lot of question marks’.
Compared to them, my relationship with Crystal really isn’t that complicated. We love each other, we don’t need to put a label on that. I don’t know what’s going to happen when the show airs, but I know I’ll have Crystal. Even when we’re sixteen hundred miles apart.
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missjanjie · 8 months ago
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These Words are My Own (From My Heart) | Crygi
Title: These Words are My Own (From My Heart) Summary:   Gigi brings a journal with her to the Drag Race set, intending to keep it as a way to express her thoughts during the competition and quell her anxiety. Instead, it becomes the narration of a love story that unfolded behind the scenes. Word Count: 2415 Relationship(s): Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode) Rating: M Notes: This is a diary/journal-style fic, so it’s written from Gigi’s POV throughout
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July 22nd 2019
I don’t know what I expected from the first day of filming, but it was… a lot. The two group thing puts on that extra level of pressure, and I can already feel a little sliver of anxiety trying to wiggle its way in. Not that I’d ever let it show, of course. It’s way too early to worry.
As far as the other girls… I actually like them all, which, let’s be honest, is the biggest shock of them all. I almost kind of wanted an enemy. But I think I might have found the opposite. Crystal.
Crystal is weird. She’s so fucking weird, but she’s funny and kind and smells really nice and is super cute out of drag. I don’t know where I’m going with this. We just had an instant connection, and I think it’ll be a nice thing to have in a situation like this.
July 25th 2019
Holy shit. The first episode is done. I’m so fucking tired. And I fucking crushed it, oh my god. I didn’t expect anything less, of course. This is a sign for how the competition’s gonna be for me, I just know it.
But anyways.
Crystal told a joke during dinner that made me shoot water out of my nose. Nicky called me a sprinkler for the rest of the night, so fuck her. Besides, Crystal said it was cute. I know, I’m sounding like I have a crush on her, but I don’t. I just appreciate being around her, we get along well. So let me reiterate: I do not have a crush on Crystal.
July 26th 2019
I have a crush on Crystal.
They’re filming the other premiere today and we had some time to sneak away. I don’t know who she got weed from, but I owe them my life. We shared a joint and whenever she had it I just… stared at her. I don’t know how to explain it – she looked all glowy in the sunlight. Her hair – that fucking mullet – looked so soft and shiny, she looked like art.
I hate her. I want to hold her dumb hand and kiss her stupid face.
July 29th 2019
Crystal has a boyfriend. Of course she has a fucking boyfriend. Why wouldn’t she? There’s probably like, six other gay guys in Springfield and I bet they all want her. This is why I don’t do crushes. Crushes are bullshit. This is bullshit.
But… she held my hand in the van today. That was nice.
Fuck.
July 30th 2019
I kinda avoided Crystal on set today. I felt bad but it just made me sad and that’s not something I’m gonna deal with. I think Jackie suspects something’s up though. Her mama bear senses are tingling, I just know it. I thought it’d be annoying, but it’s nice having someone older and wiser keeping an eye on me.
Oh my god, Jackie’s my babysitter. Maybe I should talk to her about Crystal. I feel like she’d listen. She’ll probably try too hard to help, like it’s a puzzle that she needs to solve, but if I have to tell someone, it’d be her. And maybe it’ll make me miss Crystal a little less.
July 31st 2019
I was wrong, Jackie’s not my babysitter, she’s my mom. Not in a bad way, because obviously my mom’s the best, but in that she got very invested in the Crystal situation in the same way my mom always likes to hear about whatever guy I’m dating.
The good news is that Crystal’s relationship is open. I mean, that is good news, right? It feels like it should be, and my heart wants to latch onto the fact that I could have her in some capacity. Having her in any capacity almost feels like it’d be enough, at least for now.
She asked me if something was wrong, said I seemed ‘distant’. What was I supposed to do, tell her the truth? That’s ridiculous. I just apologized and said I was dealing with migraines. She offered to smoke me out next time she gets her hands on anything. And I know I’m not gonna be able to say no to her, there’s no point in even trying.
August 5th 2019
I think Crystal knows I like her. The energy between us has shifted and it… feels kinda good. She’s more touchy, more giggly. I think she even flirted with me today. I don’t know if she figured it out on her own, or if Jackie told her, but she’s onto me.
The thing is, I don’t know what to do about it. Yes, she’s in an open relationship, so it’s ‘technically’ okay, but it’s not the same. I don’t have anything against it, but… I don’t know, maybe I’m just selfish and want Crystal all to myself.
I feel guilty, then I feel stupid for feeling guilty, because I know I don’t need to be. Make it make sense.
August 6th 2019
If Jackie tells me one more time that I ‘need to talk to Crystal about my feelings’, I’m gonna blow up her spot about all those not-so-platonic gazes she keeps directing at a certain singing queen. She thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s not subtle either. I wouldn’t do it on camera, though. That’d get too messy.
Besides, I don’t even know where to begin when it comes to explaining how I feel anyway. I don’t like explaining myself and I don’t like all that ‘bare your soul’ type of emotional intimacy. All I know is that I want Crystal in every way you can want someone. But that doesn’t seem like enough to say. Like, if I’m gonna spill my guts, I’d have to go all out. And I don’t want to do that. So. I’m gonna stay quiet and wait for this to blow over, like a normal person.
August 9th 2019
Crystal kissed me.
We were in the back of the van. I was talking about… I don’t even remember what I was talking about, but out of nowhere, she just kisses me, like it was normal, like it was the easiest thing in the world. It was soft, gentle, but with this little hint of desire that still has me hot under the collar.
And I didn’t know what to say. What the fuck was I supposed to say? I asked, “what was that for?” And she just smiled and said “you look really pretty and I wanted to.”
I wish I could’ve said something smart and funny, or flirt and bat my lashes. But no, that’s Gigi’s confidence and attitude. This was all Sam, an idiot whose brain short-circuited after one kiss. “Oh, thanks,” was all I said and I’m gonna be kicking myself for it until I’m dead. And right now, I’m hoping that’s soon.
August 12th 2019
I kissed Crystal this time. I needed to gain some semblance of control here. She seemed surprised, but also kind of relieved. Had she been worried I was mad or freaked out? Funny enough, her being relieved made me feel relieved too. I think we’re on the same page now. I don’t know what this means for us now, but I feel like it means something.
August 13th 2019
The good news is I’ve got Jackie off my back for now. The bad news is it’s because her girlfriend is probably planning my murder. I mean, at the end of the day, a win is a win. But the bruise I had on my ass for a week is a poignant reminder that Jan was a jock who could snap me in half if she wanted to.
Which is also weirdly hot? I can see why Jackie’s ‘secretly’ pining for her and shit. Or maybe I’m getting too lonely and need to get Crystal’s mouth on me again. Not even in a dirty way, though that mental image sure is nice…
August 14th 2019
Maybe I thought about that mental image too much, because I had a sex dream about Crystal last night, like, a hot one.
We were in the werkroom, the only ones in there, and Crystal’s sitting up on one of the tables, I’m standing in between his legs and we’re making out. Then it’s kinda blurry, but next, we’re both naked and I have him bent over the table. And I can remember pulling his hair and listening to him moan while I fuck him. It felt real, and I haven’t had a wet dream since high school.
I just hope it doesn’t affect me when I get on set, I can’t afford to lose focus because I’m too busy thinking about jumping Crystal’s bones.
August 19th 2019
So… I guess in a way, I manifested more physical intimacy between Crystal and I. I was telling him how I was all stressed and wound up after not doing well in the last challenge, and that I don’t think I did well with this one, and he’s quiet for a moment, then goes “let me help you feel better.”
And I’m just like, okay? I didn’t know what to expect, but then he takes his jacket off and puts it over my lap and… I’m perplexed. I’m intrigued. I’m aroused. Even when he’s undoing my jeans, I’m thinking, ‘there’s no way he’s actually gonna do this, right?’ But the only person that keeps an eye on us in the van is Jackie, and he’s got his own problems to worry about.
Long story short, Crystal jerked me off in the back of the van. It was hotter than I thought it’d be – I guess having to stay quiet because four other queens and a PA could’ve caught us adds an extra thrill. Of course, I would’ve returned the favor if we’d had time. Next time, though. Next time.
August 21st 2019
‘Next time’ did happen, and it came back to bite me on the ass. I didn’t think people really had Freudian slips until the way I said “we’re fucking in the top six” in Untucked. It didn’t help that Crystal had this smirky grin. Ugh, I could’ve died.
I feel like everyone knows, honestly. That they’re just not saying anything to be polite. I’m sure once this is all over, I’ll never hear the end of it, though.
August 24th 2019
I think I’m in love with Crystal. I knew I loved her, admired her, but… it’s more than that. And I think I’ve known for a while, but I haven’t been able to articulate it. Because it feels so different from anything I’ve ever felt before. Crystal is so different from anyone I’ve ever met before.
I don’t know what this means for us when this is all over. It’s not like I expect her to leave her boyfriend and move in with me here in LA. But I wouldn’t say no to that either, you know? Right now I feel selfish, that I just want her all to myself. But maybe I’m just sad that come Monday, it’ll be the last chunk of time we’ll have together for a while.
It’s barely been over a month and I already can’t picture my world without her. And… yeah, I’m in love with her.
August 29th 2019
Crystal and I had one day together before he had to go back home, and we made the most of it. We did the cute shit like go out to eat and take a walk, but I also got to take him back to my apartment and fuck him like I wanted to since day one.
I don’t know what this means for us, now. He’s back in Missouri, getting ready for the next Get Dusted show. I’m here, still in full drag after a photoshoot. I guess this is ‘back to normal’, but I don’t know how anything is ever going to feel normal again.
October 18th 2019
Filming Drag Race feels worlds away now, it’s weird being too busy to write most of the time. But by the same hand, it’s nice to always be occupied, lord knows I need it.
I still talk to Crystal every day, either through text or calls or FaceTime. It’s nice to be reassured he thinks of me as much as I think of him. When I’m alone, I start to worry that maybe this was one-sided. But I don’t need to say that to him, he can tell when I feel weird and talks me down without even trying.
The thing is, I’ve always felt the most beautiful when I am Gigi, like it’s the best representation of who I am. But Crystal makes me feel beautiful even when I just woke up and he’s listening to me complain about greasy skin. I didn’t really think about something like that, about letting someone else make me feel the way I thought I could only do for myself.
Crystal is just that special.
November 2nd 2019
Crystal told me he’s in love with me for the first time. I knew, I think I knew, but I didn’t realize how much it would mean to finally hear it. I cried, and I couldn’t even be embarrassed about it.
What was funny to me was when Crystal apologized. He said he’d known for so long, and felt guilty that he kept waiting to say it. He told me he didn’t think he could give me what he wanted because he wants to stay in Missouri. I told him I don’t care how far apart we are, or who he was with.
We have something special. I don’t care what it is, we’ll make it work. And besides, the promo shoot is just two months away.
January 4th 2020
I can’t even begin to explain how good it feels to be back with the cast. Obviously I’m thrilled to see Crystal, but all of us together just makes me feel whole. Jackie asked me how things with Crystal are, I said they couldn’t be better. I asked how things with Jan are, she said there are ‘a lot of question marks’.
Compared to them, my relationship with Crystal really isn’t that complicated. We love each other, we don’t need to put a label on that. I don’t know what’s going to happen when the show airs, but I know I’ll have Crystal. Even when we’re sixteen hundred miles apart.
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