#finally not her being the love interest for yet another white twink

[mmoosen]

Spooktober 2023 - Day 15

Spooktober Prompts by @wolfboy88

It's Spooktober!!!☠️🎃🔮🪄🩻🍬

The prompt for today is Halloween Party, which I edited into Halloween Costume Party. Below the cut is the prompt and a couple pics as my inspo

Brett and Nolan have been dating for a couple months when Mason and Corey announce they are hosting a Halloween costume party because Mason’s parents are leaving for a fancy Halloween themed charity gala in LA. All of the lacrosse seniors and juniors, and anyone who Mason vaguely trusts to not get too drunk, is invited with the caveat: costume required.

So as Brett and Nolan are walking down the halls to their next class of the day, Brett asks,

“Lori already ordered all my stuff to be her matching angel for Mason’s party. Any idea what you’re wearing next week?”

Nolan had not thought much about it, so he responds, “I don’t know. I might just wear my Jack Frost costume from last year. It’s kinda plain though.”

“No slutty maid costume?”

Nolan nearly trips over his own feet, fumbling with the notebooks held in his right hand as Brett tightens his grip on Nolan’s left hand to prevent him from fully tripping on his face. With a bit more control over his balance, Nolan tries to get an explanation for that comment. “W-what?”

“You know? It’s Halloween and every twink is in some sexy maid costume. Just like how every straight dude who hates costumes is just gonna wear a jersey. And all the girls who think they are better than you dress in…"

Nolan lets Brett lead the conversation away from the maid costume comment into the other stereotypical Halloween costumes before they stop at his classroom. Brett gives his hand a quick squeeze before leaving him to head to chemistry, but Nolan cannot focus during his history class, always coming back to the comment. He hides his phone behind some of his books to make a quick Google search for what Brett was talking about.

-

The next Friday night, Brett and Lori rush out the door in their matching costumes, already ten minutes late to Mason’s party. Brett may have taken too long getting the halo in his hair to sit right and Lori’s devil makeup took her forever. The drive to Mason’s is a bit frantic but as Brett pulls around the front, he lets Lori jump out at the door so Brett can drive back to the spot Mason designated for Brett and Theo to park. By the time Brett makes his way into the living room, Lori has disappeared from sight and Brett cannot see any of his friends past the packed living room of drunk dancing teens. He had heard the loud music from down the block; being in the same room as the speaker, Brett had to turn on his werewolf senses to hear Lori talking in another room. Brett quickly makes his way through the crowd, waving to a couple acquaintances until he finds Lori in the kitchen, already with Alec.

Alec has his head almost buried in the snack table, but Brett can recognize the attempts of Alec’s karate fighter costume. Alec barely looks up to tell Brett, “Hey, nice costume.”

Brett simply nods to Alec’s back and turns back to Lori, who is sporting a much bigger smile than he was prepared for. She is reeking of mischief as she asks,

“You found Nolan yet?”

“No, why?”

“I just love his costume; how much did you pay him to dress that slutty?”

Brett immediately turns his head to frantically scan the crowd again; He didn’t hear Nolan the first time, but his interest was piqued now. A second after searching for Nolan’s voice, he hears the quiet whisper of his boyfriend asking someone to ‘stay still’ upstairs. Without giving Lori a second look back, Brett heads for the stairs with his attention focused on the area around Mason’s bedroom. He catches the whispers of Theo and Liam’s voice around Nolan as he quickly pushes through to get to the open doorway.

Finally, Brett glances into Mason’s bedroom, and he immediately stops in his tracks when his eyes catch a glimpse of skin as Nolan is slightly bent over. A pair of tall white socks go up his calves leaving a long stretch of Nolan’s pale thighs exposed before the frilly white edge of a maid’s dress stops him from being able to look any further up. The shorter skirt connects to a partially laced up corset and Brett finally sees what has Nolan bent forward. Theo is sitting on Mason’s bed as Nolan is giving him an eyeliner cat nose and whiskers. But Brett isn’t giving Theo a second look with all there is to see of his boyfriend’s ass peeking out of a maid costume.

Even hearing Liam hype Theo’s costume up and Theo laughing does not stop Brett from using all the precious time he gets to check his boyfriend out -without Nolan trying to slap his arms at least. His eyes only leave from the vast chunk of unblemished skin on Nolan’s thighs as he watches Nolan turn towards him. Brett finally sees the full costume complete with little bows and lace as Nolan brightly greets him.

“Hi, you finally made it.”

“Hey.” Brett can’t hide his awe in his voice as he finds it hard to rip his eyes away from Nolan’s costume to see everyone in the room. Nolan had presumably just finished Theo’s cat makeup to go with his fake ears, Liam is some kind of gladiator, and Mason and Corey are dressed as the popular couple from Adventure Time.

“I… I love the outfit.” Words are barely forming in Brett’s mind but he’s genuine in his compliment.

“Well, you said it’s what everyone wears.”

Nolan’s attention moves back to the small pile of makeup on the bed, so Brett whispers to himself “Thank god for that.”

Nolan finishes capping the eyeliner and quickly puts the makeup into the little bag as he asks, “I like your angel outfit, where���s your other half?”

“Lori’s downstairs with Alec.”

“I’m done with Theo’s makeup now. Wanna get me a drink?”

Brett hears the rest of boys talk about finding Hayden and Gwen before they all start heading out through the doorway, so Brett simply nods and motions for Nolan to follow out behind them; but as Nolan walks past Brett, he immediately steps right behind Nolan and stays right in his space as they head back to the kitchen.

Brett tries to casually stand in Nolan’s space without getting too handsy for a public setting, so he simply starts to play with the strings of Nolan’s corset as they wait for their turn at the drink table. Nolan seems to enjoy the silence as he leans back into Brett until the table opens. As Nolan moves towards the table, Brett is right behind him. And as Nolan shifts to the right to grab a cup, Brett shuffles with him.

He must have confused Nolan since he quickly asks over his shoulder,

“Why are you stuck to my back?”

“I can practically see your ass in this,” Brett lets his fingers graze the empty skin he’s been drawn to, emphasizing his point, “I’ll be behind you all night if it means no one else is getting my view.”

Brett watches Nolan’s hands shake and slightly spill the alcohol onto the table as Nolan turns and shouts as quietly as he can with the loud music,

“Jesus Brett!” but as with most of their flirting Nolan hits back with a sassy response. “Possessive much? What am I, your chew toy?”

Brett moves his hand to rest on Nolan’s waist as he starts to laugh through his answer,

“Only my favorite one, doll.”

Brett finds himself leaning back to not get elbowed in the gut.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #spooktober #spooktober prompt #halloween party prompt #nett #brolan #nolan x brett #nolan holloway #brett talbot #lori rohr #theo raeken #mason hewitt #I am twinkifying Nolan and I will not apologize #Nolan in a maid costume as my inspo #also Lori and Brett would 100% do sibling costumes #my posts #my writing

[ultimatespider]

zendaya: Malcolm & Marie

#zendaya #john david washington #malcolm & marie #no one posted this on my dash had to do everything myself!!!! #finally not her being the love interest for yet another white twink #also the fact that this was secretly filmed during the pandemic??? iconic

[laurasfox-originals]

Taming A Jerk - Ch. 1 excerpt (Box Shaped Heart Side Story, Patreon Exclusive)

Author's note: This is the story of Alex's second chance at love and being a decent person :)

Ch. 1 - excerpt

Chapter One - The In-Between

Were dreams supposed to be this vivid? Alex struggled against his heavy eyelids. And why on earth was he dreaming about his mother above all else he could dream of? It wasn’t particularly entertaining. Oh, he was in it, as well. And he had to be around five years old, or six.

“Mom,” dream Alex moaned while dragging his blankie after him.

It was a bad dream if he had to remember such an ugly blanket. The pattern was horrendous. What could have his mother been thinking at that time? Otherwise, the woman had always had perfect taste in everything, down to napkins and toothpicks. Oh, his mother hadn’t picked that. It had been his nana, a woman of uncertain age, called Rose.

“Mo-ther. How many times do I have to tell you, Alex? Address me correctly. We are not some poor people living on welfare. So, repeat after me. Mo-ther,” the woman insisted while making the last retouches to her flawless makeup.

Five or six-year-old Alex could not appreciate his mother’s choice of war paint at the time, but he knew instinctively his mom, no, mo-ther, was displeased with him. So he stopped in the door, unsure if it was safe to take another step into his parents’ bedroom.

“Where is dad?” he asked.

His mother finally stopped from fixing her face to look at him.

“Come to me, Alex,” she opened her arms, making the nightgown she was wearing float like colorful wings around her.

His mother was beautiful. Like an actress. But she wasn’t one. She was a housewife. That was what Rose was saying. A desperate housewife. Why desperate? Alex hadn’t gotten the allusion at the time.

“Your father has decided to go live someplace else, with another family, Alex,” his mother explained. “So it will be just the two of us from now on. Won’t it be fun?”

She distracted him by starting to show him her makeup kit. There were so many colors there, and his mother knew everything about colors, matching them, and using them to make herself even more beautiful than she was.

It hadn’t been just the two of them after that. His mother had remarried twice and had had plenty of affairs. And, in the meantime, they had never been just the two of them.

“Alex? Alex Miller?” someone called for him.

All right. Time to dream was over. His eyes snapped open. A woman between ages, who definitely looked like a dead ringer for Yolanda, his boss at Beauty Ex, was touching his shoulder.

“Alex Ruskin, actually,” he replied while straightening himself up.

“People go by their real names in here, dear,” the woman corrected him, using a maternal, sugary voice.

Alex looked around. It looked like he was in a waiting lobby of sorts. The furniture was minimal, and everything was white. It was a tad too simplistic for his taste. Maybe they hadn’t had the money for a real interior decorator.

The lack of artistic vision in the room layout was not answering his question, nonetheless.

“Could you please tell me where am I?” he asked, looking back at the woman. “Ah, and my real name is Alex Ruskin. I am married,” he added.

He could overlook the mishap, but now he was wondering who had made the appointment in his name. If it was his assistant who had done it, the man was going to find a new place to work soon. Ah, wait, he had just fired the guy.

“That you may think you are, dear,” the woman stopped his train of thought. “But you know you don’t exactly feel married,” she said while shaking her head and pursing her lips in disapproval.

What was that supposed to mean? Setting his chin high, and making sure his voice was as icy as it could possibly be, he hurried to contradict her.

“I am definitely married. See?” he put up his left hand.

And stared in disbelief at his naked ring finger.

“What is this place?” he put his hand down, and this time, he didn’t hide his displeasure when looking at his presumptive host. “My wedding ring has obviously been stolen!”

“Now-now dear,” the woman took him by one arm, bent on making him follow her. “Nothing’s been stolen. Actually, we are surprised to find you here. But, thinking about the circumstances ...” the woman shook her head, and her voice dropped low as if she was talking to herself, “it all makes sense in a way.”

Alex could feel a cold chill down his back.

“Am I in a mental institution?”

Everything white, people bent on contradicting guests ... That could be.

“No, dear,” the woman shook her head and gestured for him to enter an office that seemed just as white as the waiting lobby. “I will try to explain things to you since your overseer is not available at the moment.”

“Overseer?” Alex mumbled. “Is this some prank? Who uses such a word? Is this some reality show? I don’t remember giving my consent. I strongly advise that you don’t keep me here against my will, or I will sue,” he said in a heartbeat.

He seriously didn’t have time for this. There was at least one photo shoot to attend today, and later he had plans with Simon.

“See? How can you say you’re married while thinking of another man?” the woman scolded him.

Alex could feel his jaw dropping. Also, the chill on his back was getting worse.

“What kind of a TV show is this? How ... Can you read minds?!” he almost yelled.

His voice, when high-pitched, was getting weird. He was usually avoiding doing that. Yet, right now, he couldn’t stop.

“Please, have a seat, Alex,” his host gestured for a white leather chair.

He sat, feeling his blood draining from his upper body.

“Have I ...” he licked his lips, now dry like paper. “Have I lost my mind?”

“Dear, this is not a mental institution. We call it, for the sake of our guests,” the woman said while linking her hands and placing them under her chin, “the In-Between.”

“Interesting name,” Alex frowned. “But,” he raised one finger, “I am signed with Beauty Ex for at least two more years. And I have no intentions to change that. Well, except for the right incentive, of course.”

“Not even for a household name?” the woman smiled at him, and that made his frown grow deeper.

“I feel like I am at the receiving end of some bad joke,” he said sternly.

The woman sighed now.

“We wish it was a joke. The truth is, Alex, you shouldn’t be here. You should be already on the other side of the river.”

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. No, he wasn’t the one insane. But the woman in front of him was speaking gibberish.

“I believe I took enough of your time,” he stood up. “Don’t worry; I will see myself out.”

There was no point in making a scene. The woman seemed harmless, and the fact that she looked like Yolanda made Alex feel a bit strange to start yelling at her. So he could be civil and walk out.

The waiting lobby seemed to have one door, and he went for it.

“What on earth?” he murmured.

It was locked.

All right, he was getting upset enough to start yelling at his un-obliging host. The theory of a reality show sounded more accurate than ever. So, they wanted to see him lose his cool. Taking off his wedding ring, having him stuck in a white office with some lunatic who somehow knew about Simon.

Wait. Simon. No. No, the guy could not have sold him out like this. Simon was as gullible as a three-year-old. He had not one ounce of evil in his slim body. And what a body he had, Alex mused. Had he not been so keen on never encouraging competition, he would have told the guy to apply for a modeling position. Maybe they could have even shot some ads together.

But no. Simon was way too good-looking, and Alex knew he wasn’t going to be an attractive twink forever. Simon was younger. Well off, so he didn’t need the money. Not the way Alex needed money. Also, if Simon was starting to model, he was bound to steal the show. And that, for no reason at all. It would have just pissed him off.

“Sorry, Simon, only enough room for one name up in lights,” he spoke out loud.

Hmm, he didn’t mean to say that. He pushed away the thought as he noticed a key in a beautiful bowl placed on a small coffee table. Oh, so it was like an escape room sort of situation? They really wanted to see him losing his cool.

Well, he had no intention to give them the satisfaction. Calmly, he picked up the key, held it with two fingers, and looked around. Where could they have hidden the cameras? Maybe they had used some paint to conceal them? It wasn’t impossible.

With a shrug, he decided to try the door with the key he had just found. Straightening up some invisible wrinkles on his t-shirt, he walked toward the door.

Where was the door? He frowned and shook his head. He was pretty confident it was on that wall. Whatever technologies they were using for this prank had to cost a fortune. All for the better. That meant they had enough money to stop him from suing them.

He looked down. A small door was there, but it was apparently impossible for a human being to go through it. Not even a little person could. Nonetheless, he had a key, and he had to try it. Maybe it was going to reveal a piece of the puzzle.

He knelt and began fiddling with the lock. It worked. Great. They were going to say about him that he was not only good looking but smart, too. He could picture the titles.

“We tried to prank Alex Ruskin, but he out-pranked us! Who would have thought the guy has the brains, not just the looks?” he mumbled to himself.

He pushed open the little door.

What ...?! The door was even smaller?! How could that be? And how were they doing it before his very eyes?

Now he was going to have to lie flat on his stomach if he hoped to see something through that door and get the next piece of the puzzle.

Just as he was trying to figure out a way to do that without showing some lousy angle for the cameras that he still didn’t know where they were, the door seemed to shrink a few more inches.

“No, no, no,” he said through his teeth as he almost threw himself to the floor.

The door disappeared, engulfed by the wall, before his eyes. Ah, damn it! He almost wanted to manifest his frustration by punching the floor or a wall. But no, he was who he was because he knew exactly when to smile.

And this was the sort of situation to show the idiots who were trying to prank him that he never ever lost his cool.

What was supposed to be the next step? It looked like he needed to go back to the office, and talk again to the lady host.

He knocked shortly and stepped inside. The desk behind which the woman sat was now covered with files, and the lady was busy searching for something in a drawer.

“Ahem,” he coughed discreetly, to draw her attention.

“Where could that be?” the woman was talking to herself.

“Could you please show me the way out?” Alex spoke out loud.

The woman stopped and looked at him.

“Alex, please, sit down. I should have the protocol for such situations somewhere, but I don’t seem to find it. This place, I swear, is always a mess.”

“What protocol?” Alex could feel getting irritated by the second. “I don’t like throwing empty threats, but I feel like I have to say it. Let me out, or there will be consequences. I have a photo shoot coming up. I am certain my boss is pulling out her hair right now, wondering where I am and ...”

“Yes?” the woman stopped her frantic search to look at him. “What else, Alex? What are you forgetting?”

It was there, on the tip of his tongue. Of course, there was his plan of meeting Simon later, but that was not it.

“Aron asked you to think about going to see his parents this weekend,” the woman said and kept her round, witty eyes trained on him. “But you don’t intend to go,” she continued. “You haven’t seen your in-laws in almost half a year, and, if you were never to visit, that wouldn’t be an issue with you.”

Alex sat on the chair, without protesting anymore.

“How do you know all this?” he murmured, the fear of cameras catching him unawares gone from his mind.

“It is our job,” the woman said. “Now, if only I could find the protocol ... All right, we will have to do without it. Shall we begin?”

“By all means,” Alex sat back in his chair.

The woman sat her hands primly on the desk, took one look down, as if to prepare herself, and then looked Alex straight in the eye.

“You should be dead.”

A cold chill ran down his spine in an instant.

“All right,” he murmured, trying to get a hold of himself. “This is no longer a joke. Please let me out of here. I won’t sue. Just … let me out.”

~ end of excerpt

Author's note: You can read the entire thing - 7-chapters long - on my Patreon.

#box shaped heart #my original fiction #laurasfox #taming a jerk

[general-idiot]

Preconception

Chapter 1: Conjuction

Title: Preconception

Pairing: Hank/Connor

Summary: Connor is a hacker and a very good one at that. So when he needs something from Hank in order to reach his goals, he doesn’t hesitate to take it. It’s just that the outcome is not really what he is prepared for and now he has to cooperate with the Lieutenant in order to keep his secrets hidden.

Warnings: NSFW (rated M), violance

Connor waits in the bar. There is nothing new in waiting in places like this and he is patient enough not to start fidgeting with his coin while glancing at the entrance door every few minutes. He is used to this. He is quite used to every bit of nerve-wracking detail of this monotonous side-effect of his plan.

To the mop rhythmically hitting the floor again and again. To the muzzy hours of listening to the ticking of the old worn-out clock on the top of the shelf between the bottles that Jimmy loves so much. If Connor would form an opinion about it, he would say that it is truly hideous. He's seen it enough times to believe that this word describes it the best and he is quite fond of sticking little labels on things in order to make them seem to be less complicated. So he tags them, categorize them in his mind and most of the times share it with the world. But now, it is not time for his foolish little games, because opinions lead to questions and questions lead to lies. Quiet is the logical option.

He knows the schedule well enough. He comes in, orders a drink - for the sake of looking like he is there for the same thing as everybody else. He stays for a few hours watching, soaking up some new information dropped by the people sitting around him, then he leaves. It is a neat little procedure and he hates to break it - as people tend to hate to change their habits -, but it's just what he needs right now.

So Connor patiently waits in a booth hardly looking up to the entrance, only when he feels like it is unbearable to sit still. When he finally hears the creacking of the door, he jumps a little but the man stepping inside just stares right trough him and sits down next to the counter.

Connor knows that he can't approach him, not yet. Simple details like a few minutes make it easier to the other to believe that he has no ulterior motives. A smartly dressed young man hitting on a burn out cop is fishy on its own, but stepping right next to him without a second though is downright alarming. He doesn't actually understand these unspoken social rules but he doesn't question it either because he only gets anwers that are even more complicated than the question itself. So he waits a few minutes to go by then gets up from his booth and walks next to the man.

The man doesn't even glance at him, just drowns his face in a glass of whiskey and Connor is too determined to take it a sign to fuck off.

"Your finest whiskey on the rock", he says to the bartender. "Same to my company. It's on me."

The man doesn't look at him, he continues to ignore him as he stares right at Jimmy with his half-empty glass in his hand and then slowly forming the words he finally speaks.

"I didn't know it is a twink-friendly area nowadays", he mutters.

Jimmy just shoots an entertained expression as he places the two new glasses in front of them. Connor lifts it to his mouth as he starts analyzing the Lieutenant. He already found out from public document the most he needed to know. Hank Anderson, a 52 yeal old police lieutenant, divorced and drunk his ass off in the past 2 years in this very bar. Several disciplinary warning and penalites on his account. A dog named Sumo and a great chance of being the Connor's goose with the golden egg.

"Don't worry. My mother previously gave me her permission to visit this bar."

Connor is usually not great with jokes but this one seems to achieve its objective because it raises a tiny smile from the lieutenant. He lets out a shaky breath - just enough to cool his mind down a little, but not so much that the other man can hear it. His plan depends on his self-confidence, the portayal of a cocky and ambitious young kid who has to many daddy issues to control himself. He needs to be that even though he really has no previous experience being flirtatious and all. He knew he had to be prepared so he memorized at least a thousand different pick up lines and even more method of non-verbal representation of interest.

Still, he goes with sarcasm. Somehow that's more natural.

The lieutenant finally glares at him and probably tries to dissect every little detail of his appearance. Connor wears a white shirt with its sleeves rolled to his elbow and dark jeans. He looks neat, but comfortable. He also doesn't look like someone who belongs to a bar like this and the Hank is likely to be aware of it. But he doesn't question it. He probably has already seen stranger things.

"Alright, kid. I don't know what you want but you should look for it somewhere else."

Rejection seemed to be almost inevitable when he planned all this little play so Connor is not suprised by the tone of the sentence. He just puts his most innocent smile on his face and try not to sound desperate.

"All I intent to find is a good company to spend my time with", he says.

"You have a pretty fucked up standard if you think I am good company", the lieutenant grumbles  as he downs the remaining whiskey. "Choosing a grumpy old man who is stiff enough to bite your dick off is not an idea normal people have.

Connor just shrugs his shoulders and turns a little bit towards the lieutenant. His knee bumps to the other man's. He gets a curious look in return.

"I am not fond of normal things", he says.

And then he finally gets the attention he has been fighting for because the lieutenant orders another turn and neglects grabbing his coat and jumping to the entrance door at the earliest opportunity. Somehow Connor feels a little warm inside his chest and he tries not to concentrate on the fact that this is the first time he may actually be getting some honest interest from another person for his witty personality and not only for his looks. This is new and truly thrilling.

"So", the lieutenant starts."What does a fragile boy like you do in a filthy place like this?

"I was waiting for someone. Not anymore, it seems."

Hank rolls his eyes.

"Jesus, that was cheesy ", he barks, and Connor find the sound oddly endearing. "Business or enjoyment?

Connor decides to make a bold move and puts his hand on the other man's knee.

This is really not what he planned but he starts to enjoy the situation even though it may not lead to the way he needs it. Still the temptation is unusual and as he leans closer he can smell the cheap cologne of the lieutenant and see the wrinkles on his massive hands. He probably could break his think neck in one gritty movement and the clear plausibility of this fact starts to send electric jolts trough Connor's spine.

"Can't it be both?" he breathes and watches as the other man tries to make out the words.

He doesn't pull away but his features stills for a moment before he starts to speak again.

"If you talk like you have a stick up in your ass, it probably can't."

That's the point when Connor's confidence falters and as the wounded animal he tends to act like, he makes the mistake of biting instead of compromising. Old habits die hard, even though he should know better now.

"You seem to be confident in reading my intentions."

"I'm a detective", he bites. "That's what detectives do."

Naturally, Connor stand up to feel like he can be at least little bit intimidating as the other man watches him move. His mouth falls into a tiny smile as he takes the man's whiskey and downs it in one swift move. The Lieutenant stays silent trough it. It is oddly reassuring.

"Interesting", he says as he puts the glass down. "I suppose you are also off duty considering the amount of alcohol you have already consumed. Otherwise I suppose it would be quiet irresponsible of you. Your superior would surely not favor it."

This is a clear-as-day teasing and Connor couldn't be more proud of himself for it. As for the lieutenant - well, he is less pleased. He stands up more quickly than he should be able to and grabs Connor's collar as he pulls him next to the nearest wall. He slams him to it and Connor tries to grab something not to lose balance but his options are limited so he just grasps the lieutenant's shirt in his hands, knuckles going white by the effort. He should be suprised, he should be panicking even. He just forgets it completely how to be that as his half-hard dick starts to demand more and more attention.

Not a lot of people stare at them, they must be be used to it already. Not even Jimmy bats an eye. Is it an ordinary behaviour of the man?

"Alright, Smartass", the lieutenant grumbles to his face and Connor's limbs start to give up. "Are you playing to get arrested or you just have a loose mouth?"

Connor would like to say something smart. Something witty and cheerful, something that will ease the hardened atmosphere around them but he would also like to get on his knees right now and suck the life out of the man in front of him. It is totally irrational and he doesn't actually understand where all this is coming from but the heat is there and it stays in his abdonmen as the lieutenant presses closer.

"So?"he asks and Connor, for the first time in his life decides to go with his instincts instead of calculating every single outcome of his feasible moves.

"Pull out your gun and find it out", he says without a beat. "Officer."

He doesn't actually know how he gets pressed to a bathroom stall - it happens very fast, clothes and limbs all around his vision -, but the next thing he realizes is that he is half bending, elbows on the stall's door as Hank buries his cock balls deep inside of him. He tries to keep it quiet, he really does, but the man behind him stubbornly keeps a steady rythim that forces little moans out in the stale, musky air.

"Jesus", Hank grunts, as he runs his fingers in Connor's disheveled hair.

Connor chokes on another moan and he really wishes that he was able to turn around for a kiss but that would be far too personal and it is something he doesn't want to get involved in right now. Instead Hank grabs a handful of hair and pulls him closer to kiss the soft skin under his ear, hand crawling to his mouth so Connor can suck on his finger. It is wet and messy and over far too soon.

Connor finishes on the door - Jimmy will not be happy, he thinks as he scratches the wood with one hand -, and Hank rides out the last waves of orgams as he tangles his and Connor's free hand together in front of his abdonmen. Hank tries to keep Connor on his legs, a gesture that his knees really appreciate, but his head hurts and there is a clinking noise coming from Hank's trousers pooling around his ankles. He slides down to the dirty tiles and reaches for the little badge feeling Hank's glare at his nape. Connor stares at the series of numbers at the back of the badge as he hold it in one hand, trying to memorize it. He almost forgot what he came for.

"I think it's yours, Detective", he says as he offers the little plate, voice a little bit harsh.

Hank takes it and really tries to keep his remaining dignity as he pulls the trousers up to his thights.

"Sure thing", he murmurs and Connor is oddly proud of himself as fixes his own jeans.

"I hope my behaviour won't entail any further investigation", he jokes and Hank's shoulders slump a little as the tension of the situation leaves his body.

"Don't worry, kid, you get away with a warning this time."

Connor would like to say something, but he got what he wanted and it's really not the best idea to further complicate this situation.

Hank stands in front of him like he's just ran a marathon - which is quite a good look on him, Connor decides - and maybe, after everything is settled he will come back to him. Ask for his phone number. Go on a real date, get to know each other. Maybe after everything is settled and Connor can finally fight back his demons, he will do just that. He likes to think he will be able to do that.

But right now, he steps outside the stall leaving a confused Lieutenant behind.

"I was really nice to meet you, Detective", he says and flashes a really rare smile of his for a goodybe.

"Wait!' Hank grabs after him, keeping him in place as he moves closer. "Tell me your name."

Connor swallows not really knowing if it's a safe thing to do, but then again, he is really illogical today so he just leans into Hank's space, giving him a tiny kiss on the cheek.

"Connor", he breathes.

Hank nods then fixes his shirt again and leaves.

A sudden loss perches on Connor's shoulders as he follows the man outside and passes him when he goes outside of the bar. The weather is particularly cold and it soothes his aching joints. He starts to head home. Tomorrow, he will have a lot of work to do.

He hopes til then he can calm his racing heart.

#dbh #dbh fanfic #hankcon #hannor #detroit become human #hank #connor #first fic #not my native language #first chapter #preconception

[everywon-woo]

SOMETIMES PLANES CRASH - chapter 3

A/N: SO this is the last chapter of this story, but i'm gonna make this a series with different POVs and ships so there will be a lot more crappy fanfiction! I'm currently writing a patater sequel to this and i have so many ideas for other sequels and sidefics, i'll probably have writing material for a long time! Anyway, thank you so much for reading this story, feedback and ideas are always welcome! 

Chapter 2

Masterpost

Chapter 3

During the next few weeks, Jack did a few interviews – mainly because Georgia forced him to – in which he talked about being a queer athlete. They all went surprisingly well. He knew that George had only chosen news outlets that had reacted positively to him being outed, but he still hadn’t expected them to be nice. They all respected his wish to stay clear of the topic of relationships, most of them even acknowledged his sexuality, and one of the men seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say about Samwell.

“You know, my teammates didn’t know I was bisexual until very recently. Even my best friend didn’t know until very recently. But I have never felt more accepted for who I really was, despite the fact that my team didn’t actually know who I really was. Of course Samwell has a reputation of being a great school for LGBTQ+ youth – I’m not gonna pretend this wasn’t part of the reason why I chose to go there in the first place – but before I went there, I couldn’t have dreamed of how much they helped me to grow, as a hockey player and as a person. They showed me that I didn’t have to do everything alone. I didn’t have to win games on my own. I didn’t have to keep my sexuality to myself out of fear of losing their respect and friendship. They had my back on and off the ice, without ever asking me anything I wasn’t prepared to give.

Many people criticize my decision to go to college, but I can assure you that I wouldn’t be the player I am today if I hadn’t made that decision.”

This might have been the longest string of words to ever come out of Jack Zimmermann’s mouth. He had practiced what he wanted to say over and over again, and now it was over, he was pretty satisfied with it.

The interviewer smiled before following up with a question: “Excuse me if this question is intrusive or inappropriate, but you said you didn’t come out to your teammates, despite the fact that they were very supportive. Why was this, if I may ask?”

The man seemed genuinely scared that he had crossed a line, so Jack smiled to reassure him.

“Well, despite knowing that my team had my back, information leaking about me being anything but straight was still a horrifying thought. The NHL isn’t the most LGBTQ+ friendly place – which is a very important topic, but I think that’ll have to be for another time – and I assumed I would have to choose between my sexuality and my career. I trusted my team, but it was simply safer to not take the risk,” Jack explained.

The interviewer nodded. “I understand, and I’m truly sorry you felt like you had to choose between yourself and your career, but I’m sure your courage will make sure many young athletes in the future will not share this fear. And I think you don’t have to worry about your career anymore, after the hockey you played in the past few months!” He laughed.

“Yeah. I just hope this can make a difference.”

“I’m sure it will, Jack. Thank you, and good luck playing the Bruins tomorrow!”  

“Thank you,” Jack laughed, and he realized that he had actually quit enjoyed this interview.

  After the story died down a bit, life almost went back to normal. Jack went back to his normal training schedule, Bitty went back to his normal college life. Now, though, Jack could take Bitty on a date during the weekends. Bitty could sit in the WAG section, which the Falcs had renamed the partners section, when he came to see one of Jack’s games. The day after the first game Bitty saw since they came out, Jack went to practice with two baskets of baked goods for Thirdy’s wife, because “She was so nice, Jack. I need to bake her some pies to thank her.”

 Originally, Jack hadn’t wanted Bitty to come to his games. The whole ‘coming out’ thing had gone pretty well, but Jack wasn’t stupid enough to think the whole NHL would just suddenly cease to be homophobic. He didn’t want Bitty to be there if things got ugly.

However, Bitty argued that he would would watch the games anyway, whether it was from the stands or from his couch, and if things got ugly, he didn’t want to be helpless at home. Jack couldn’t deny that he was right.

Apparently Jack wasn’t the only one that expected things to escalate on the ice, because before the first game his coach told him: “Okay, kid. This might not be an easy game. Things might get nasty. We’ll all have your back, but don’t let it affect you. Don’t fight. Don’t take unnecessary penalties. Don’t even talk back. Don’t give them the satisfaction of getting to you.”

Jack nodded and stepped on the ice. The only thing he could do now was play hockey, something he happened to be good at.

After the first period it was clear that the Blackhawks were playing dirty. Jack had been hit more in the last twenty minutes than in the rest of his season altogether. As a result, though, the hawks had taken a few penalties, which lead to a goal and an assist on Marty’s goal for Jack. Overall Jack was pretty happy with his first period, despite clearly being targeted. Now all he had to do was trying to survive and sustaining their 2-0 lead.

The latter was surprisingly easy, as the hawks seemed more determined to prevent the former from happening than to score goals.

He had expected it. He truly had. That didn’t mean it was any easier to have all the air get knocked out of his lungs by being slammed into the boards and hearing Johansson, the hawks’ defenseman, say “that’s what you get, fag” while skating away.

Jack was about to drop his gloves when he remembered what his coach had told him before the game. Don’t fight. Don’t give him the satisfaction of drawing a penalty.

However, before Jack could skate away, Tater’s fist hit the d-man’s jaw.

“You dare to call Zimmboni that one more time, I make sure you don’t step foot on ice ever again, you rat,” Tater threatened. Jack’s mind didn’t have the time to process what was happening before all the Falcs who were on the ice were on Johansson.

  The first few games after that were just as rough, but after a few weeks, the news had spread that the fastest way to get Alexei Mashkov’s fist on your face was to insult Jack Zimmermann. After that, Jack only got some glares and the occasional hit. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

Until the second game against the Aces. Jack hadn’t been looking forward to it anyway, as playing against Kent still made him more nervous than a normal game would. He didn’t expect the Aces to be homophobic, though, as he assumed Kent wouldn’t allow such behaviour in his team, whether or not he was out to his team.

Jack was mostly right. Seeing Kent was still not easy, but everyone just played the game. Everyone but Tim White, Kent’s linemate. It started with the regular stuff, the glares and some hits that weren’t necessary. But when the Falcs went into the third period leading 4-1 – with a goal and two assists for Jack – things started to escalate. White’s hits started getting rougher and more frequent. The glares turned into whispered slurs where no one but Jack could hear them. Jack didn’t want to give White the satisfaction of drawing a penalty, though. He was not going to fight tonight.

Merely minutes before the final horn, all his good intentions went up in smoke when he got slammed into the boards and onto the ice by White, who managed to make something explode inside Jack by smirking and laughed condescendingly: “Even if I had known you were gay, I wouldn’t have expected ‘tiny blond trophy twinks’ to be the great Jack Zimmermann’s type.

Yet, before Jack could get to his feet to punch the smirk of White’s face, Kent Parson’s fist connected with his own linemate’s jaw. Even though Jack didn’t really know Kent anymore, he could see the white-hot anger in his eyes as White tumbled to the ice. Everyone seemed to be taken aback by Kent’s violent behaviour against his own teammate, so the officials were not quick enough to intervene before Kent, who was at least 5 inches smaller than White, took his linemate bye the front of the jersey and said, almost hissed: “One. Jack is bisexual, not gay.” White didn’t try to fight his way out, as he knew hitting Kent Parson might be the fastest way to lose his job. He just let himself undergo the wrath of his captain. “Two. I think you might want to keep up with what our scouts are doing, because if you did, you’d known that the Aces would love to replace your sorry ass with that ‘tiny blond trophy twink’ as soon as he gets out of college.” Jack’s mouth fell open. “And three.” The officials seemed completely lost as to what to do, and they didn’t even try to stop Kent when he punched White again, hard, before almost growling: “If I ever hear you talk that way about me again, I will personally make sure you never step foot on the ice again.”

Jack didn’t know how White still had the audacity to open his mouth, but he said almost nonchalantly: “Chill, Cap. I wasn’t even talking about you, I was just chirping Zimmermann about his ty-” Realization dawned on him. “Oh.”

Jack decided that White had a death wish, because he then proceeded to throw his head back and laugh. “Holy shit, Jack Zimmermann and Kent Parson are both fags, and they fuck-”

This time it was Tater who shut him up by putting a fist to his mouth, and soon, the officials had to drag the whole Falconers roster and even some Aces away from White before they actually killed him.

Meanwhile, Jack and Kent were just standing a few feet away from the fight, frozen, staring at each other. Then, Kent seemed to realize what he had done and Jack saw a flash of panic in his eyes before he visibly tried to suppress it because he didn’t want to let Jack see beneath his carefully constructed layer of arrogance and chill.

In that moment, Jack felt all the bad memories slip away. He didn’t forgive himself. He didn’t forgive Kent. He didn’t know if they could ever be friends again. But there and then, none of that mattered. Jack knew Kent needed him.

“Kenny.”

Kent’s control slowly slipped away, and tears filled his eyes.

“Jack,” he choked, and then Jack’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him against his chest.

They didn’t say anything. Communication had never been their forte anyway. They just stood there, on center ice, holding each other as if the past six years had never happened. They both knew they couldn’t just go back to the way they were, but for now, Jack could give Kent the support he so desperately needed.

They didn’t realize the fight had been broken up, and every single pair of eyes in the arena was watching them, Jack Zimmermann and Kent Parson, hockey legends, old friends, rivals, embracing each other on center ice. They didn’t know what had just happened between these teams. They didn’t realize yet that Kent Parson had just come out. The only thing they saw was a heart-warming reunion, and maybe Jack and Kent wanted to believe that for a few moments too.

“Thank you,” Jack sighed against Kent’s shoulder. This made Kent pull away to look Jack in the eyes and smile that Kent Parson-smile. Not the fake media smile, the real deal.

“You’re welcome.”

And that’s how Kent Parson found himself sitting on his couch, scrolling through his Tumblr feed, which consisted of an infinite amount of different gifs of The Hug™, while eating a Danish pastry out of the basket that had arrived that morning, accompanied by a card saying:

 This doesn’t mean I suddenly like you, but what you did out there on the ice was incredibly brave. Thank you.

-ERB

#so this was it #i'm excited about that patater fic tho #omgcheckplease #omgcp #zimbits #eric bittle #jack Zimmermann #sometimes planes crash #fanfic