#no no; it’s okay just admit you’re homophobic it’s fine

[banglatown]

IF ANYTHING … the fucking minho sub plot came out of fucking nowhere … like everyone talking abt catglass … HELLO !? are you lot feeling ok?! he’s literally the reason kitty had to shack up w tht creepy girl tht streamed her sleeping and YOU LOT THINK-

#my god … i can’t #like i’m seeing kitty and minho edits and no one fucking says anything abt how random it is #like he spends most of the series literally hating her #and then he all of a sudden has a crush on her ??? #but catglass .. catglass is the one you lot call random #no no; it’s okay just admit you’re homophobic it’s fine #beebs.txt #xo kitty

[mc-i-r]

Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four AO3 link

A/N: okay this chapter took way longer than expected but it's done! It's here! The final chapter is Heroes is out! Thank you all so much for your incredible support through the months of writing this story. Although this is the last chapter, I do plan on doing two additional parts to this story that dive deeper into the characters. However, as of right now it's up in the air for when these will be out as college is getting busy with the end of the semester and holidays rapidly approaching. That being said, I do plan on doing them! In the meantime, enjoy this final chapter!

Tw: graphic descriptions of violence (canon typical), homophobic language (self-directed), dissociation

———

He’s been on the couch for an indiscriminate amount of time, staring at the pristine marble fireplace he desperately wants to take his nail bat to. He doesn’t remember much of how he got here, only that he was at work at some point and must have driven himself home without really thinking. Now that he puts it that way in his mind, it doesn’t sound all that safe, but he’s fine and alive and sitting on the couch.

Steve blinks back into full consciousness when he hears a knock on the front door. He blinks one, twice, three times to get rid of the fuzziness that’s taken residence on the outskirts of his vision before hauling himself off the leather sofa. He’s honestly surprised he managed to space out so long on such an uncomfortable piece of furniture, the cushions stiff from disuse over the years. It’s just begun to gain that looseness from all the kids lounging on it, but it’s still rather uncomfortable in his opinion.

Wrapping a thick blanket around his shoulders, he moves sloppily towards the door. Whoever is on the other side has grown to knocking continuously, so much so it’s beginning to give Steve a headache. No one he knows would be coming by today. It’s Sunday, meaning most of the kids are off doing their own thing with their parents or hanging out in the ever eloquent armpit that is Mike Wheeler’s basement. Whoever is on the other side isn’t someone he knows, so he begins to turn and head upstairs to sleep the rest of the fuzzy off before a voice makes him freeze in his tracks.

“Steve?” A deep, raspy voice tinged with panic filters through the mahogany doors. “Steve, I know you’re in there.”

He watches the door as he continues the path to his room, ready to avoid whatever it is Eddie wants from him.

Maybe Eddie figured out Steve’s feelings and is here to reject him. Or maybe he’ll call Steve a fag and punch him just like Steve has done to countless people back in high school. Really, he wouldn’t blame him if he did, he deserves it. Maybe Eddie’s found someone else, and is here to tell Steve it will never work out, that he’s not into guys. He thinks that one would hurt the most.

“Steve, your car is in the driveway and the lights are on,” Eddie points out, and Steve can tell he’s raising his eyebrow and giving him a look just by the tone of his voice. “We need to talk.”

Steve doesn’t want to talk. Not right now. His head is mushy and he’s not thinking straight—which he isn’t, but still—and he feels like he’s barely standing on his feet. Part of him, a bigger part than he’d like to admit, wonders if he somehow fell asleep on the couch without noticing. That’s the only way he can justify Eddie’s presence on the other side of the door and the way he was frantically knocking beforehand while worriedly yelling his name. That’s the only way any of this makes sense.

Slowly—so very slowly—he walks up to the door. He red-hued wood stares back at him mockingly, separating him from the one person he wants most. Eddie is here, just on the other side, but he can’t bring himself to reach out and turn the knob.

What if Eddie is mad at him? What if he’s here to yell and hit and hurt him beyond repair? He’s already so, so weak for him, and he knows it wouldn’t take much for him to break completely. Eddie is… he means so much more to Steve than he can properly express, and he doesn’t want to open this door and have it ripped away from him completely.

Because that’s what it boils down to, doesn’t it? If Eddie is gone, he has nothing. Sure, there’s Robin, but something about Eddie is different in a good way. A way that makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside even in the dead of winter. A way that makes him blush and swoon and pine from afar because that’s all he knows how to do. A way that makes him want with his whole being. A way that he knows could tear him apart because it’s just too good to be true.

He knows he should open the door. He can reach out and grasp the knob in his hand and turn it, can swing it open and reveal the man his heart is in pieces for. He can invite him in, sit down and talk about whatever he wants to. He can have Eddie back in his life if he just. Opens. The. Door.

But Steve is a coward, and all the bravery Dustin swears he has flies right out the window as soon as no one’s life is in danger, as soon as it’s only his life in question. He takes a step back, then another, until he’s safely away from the door and next to the steps. He swallows, the sound loud in the stilted silence of his empty house, and waits.

There’s a sigh on the other side of the door before muffled shuffling and murmured curses. Steve first thinks Eddie is leaving, that he finally realized Steve wasn’t going to open the door for him and had enough, but then he hears a tiny ‘aha!’. Seconds later, the sound of a key entering the lock echo through the foyer and Steve instinctively tugs the blanket closer around him.

The door swings open to reveal Eddie in a rumpled t-shirt, sweatpants, and messy hair that looks almost as wild as his eyes. His breathing is fast and he’s disheveled to the point that Steve has the fleeting thought he just woke up and panic-ran there—which, judging by the haphazard way his van is parked in the driveway, his assumption isn’t too far of a stretch.

Even now, with his hair a wild mess and presence like a whirlwind, he's beautiful. He’s missing his signature rings, making his fingers seem longer and more delicate. The faded Black Sabbath shirt hangs from his frame, the thin fabric allowing his collarbones to show through as well as the healing scars on his chest. His hair is in a messy bun with thick strands hanging around his face he must have missed when putting it up, and Steve desperately wants to twist them around his fingers and pull.

If he lets himself think about it for too long, Steve would imagine this is what he looks like when he wakes up. Eddie would crawl out of bed no earlier than ten o’clock, drag himself to the coffee machine and sip it black and grimace—he knows he doesn’t like it black, but he still tries it every morning anyway—before adding ungodly amounts of cream and sugar before leaning against the counter as he wakes up. Steve would be making breakfast, probably something boring like eggs and bacon, and smile when Eddie wraps his arms around his waist from behind and kisses his shoulder. He’d have a low morning voice, something husky and rough from years of smoking, and Eddie would perch his head on Steve’s shoulder to watch him cook. They’d sneak kisses the whole time, and Eddie would try to steal bacon off the plate even though it’s still hot and he would burn his tongue and complain about it for the rest of the day. Steve would suggest he kiss it to make it better, and they would end up making out in the kitchen while their food grows cold.

He’s pulled out of his daydream by the sound of metal scraping against metal. Eddie is focused on getting the key back out of the lock, and Steve knows he should tell him that the spare has a habit of sticking since it’s rarely used but no words escape him. He shuffles on his feet instead, willing his heavy limbs to move forwards. The movement catches Eddie’s attention, and he immediately stops fiddling with the lock to look at him. His eyes are wide, and a little glassy, and he instantly takes his hands off the knob to drop them at his sides.

Now that those doe eyes are looking right at him, Steve finds a whole avalanche of words threatening to tumble out; ‘You’re pretty’, ‘hey, Eds', and ‘I really like you’ being the top contenders. Instead, he lets out a meek “hi”.

Eddie grins, just a little nervous thing, and Steve wonders what he was even worried about.

“Hiya, Stevie,” he greets. He looks over at the door and winces. “I used the spare key, hope you don’t mind.”

Steve shakes his head. “That’s what it’s for. Sorry I didn’t let you in.”

“Don’t worry about it, Stevie,” Eddie assures. He finally pulls the key out of the lock and shuts the door behind him, leaning against it as he looks at Steve. “As nice as it is in your fancy foyer, I think we’d both rather talk somewhere a little more comfortable, don'tcha think?”

His words kick Steve back into gear and he gestures with his head to the living room. Eddie brushes against him as he goes to sit on the couch and Steve tries desperately not to flinch at the sudden contact and rush of heat he feels at the slight touch. Eddie sits on the couch with a huff and Steve stands to the side awkwardly, looking down at his feet and the ornate carpet instead of those big doe eyes he constantly gets lost in.

“Do you want something to eat or drink?” Steve offers, still not looking up. “I made some cookies yesterday if you want some— at least, I think it was yesterday—“

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, cutting him off and sealing his lips closed. He wordlessly pats the empty seat beside him on the sofa, raising an eyebrow in silent command. Steve looks at Eddie, then at the seat, and back again. It’s hard to tell the expression on his face and what exactly the other man is feeling, caught somewhere between concern and this gentleness he’s rarely seen.

Steve sits next to him with a quiet huff, subconsciously tugging the blanket around his shoulders until it’s just under his chin. He stares at the pristine brick underneath the fireplace, eggshell white and void of ash smudges or scratches. Steve has never seen an actual fire in that fireplace, only the styrofoam logs his mother had shipped to the house to look realistic without making a mess. He counts the rows, then each brick within the rows and the frame around them until he concludes that there's fifty-six bricks in the fireplace. It’s an odd number to end on but surprisingly even. He briefly wonders if his parents intentionally ended the brick count on an even number or if it just happened that way.

Eddie clears his throat next to him and Steve startles a little, breaking out of his brick-focused revere to glance at the man beside him. He looks nervous, hands twisting together and fingers tracing the empty space where his rings usually sit. Steve thinks that if Eddie had remembered them, he’d be twisting the heavy rings in their silence.

“We need to talk, Steve,” Eddie repeats. “This… this thing has gone on for way too long and we need to set the record straight.”

Steve holds back a snort at the word ‘straight’, feeling at this moment anything but. He can feel Eddie’s body heat even from the other side of the couch and part of him is screaming at his hands to reach out and touch. But, Eddie is here to talk, not touch, so he keeps his hands to himself and stiffly nods.

At least he has the decency not to say what Steve did wrong to his face. That small bit of mercy warms something within him even though he knows the following conversation will rip it apart. Eddie is going to tell him that it’s not worth it, that Steve isn’t worth it, and that he should stop trying to make amends because it’s never going to work. Eddie will never like him, that's a given fact proven time and time again by the cut-off comments and sideways glances and aborted touches.

He tears his eyes away from where they’ve focused back on the fireplace, choosing instead to look down at his lap. It’s better to rip the band-aid off early, just get straight to the point instead of beating around the proverbial bush. Steve takes a breath then releases it slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment while gathering his words.

“You don’t have to say it, Eds,” he murmurs and fuck, he didn’t mean for ‘Eds’ to sound so soft. He can’t help it though, not when the boy he wants is leaving him before they’ve even had a chance to be together. “I already know.”

He feels more than sees Eddie freeze beside him, stiffening up as if he was suddenly turned to stone. Wide brown eyes are turned his way and Steve can’t help but glance at them once more while he’s still allowed. They’re more shiny than usual, bouncing over Steve’s face like two rocket-powered pinballs.

As the silence stretches on, he can tell Eddie won’t be the one to fill it. That’s okay, really, because he needs to explain himself. Might as well get it out in the open before all the yelling starts and he shuts down completely.

“I know you don’t like me,” Steve starts and Eddie immediately makes a noise of protest. He glances at the other with pleading eyes and a small, sad smile. “Can I get it all out before you say anything? I just… I need to say this without any interruptions.”

Eddie immediately nods, miming zipping his lips closed, locking them, and throwing away the key. Steve can’t fight the smile that forms on his face at the action, finding the little show of childishness endearing. It’s nice to see Eddie act more like himself after everything, even though the circumstances are less than ideal.

“Thanks,” he says. Steve takes a breath, closing to look down at his hands rather than at Eddie. He squeezes them together, watching as his knuckles and the tips of his fingers turn white with pressure.

“I know I’ve been too clingy with the group lately and was pushing people to hang out with me. I…” he trails off, huffs. “It sounds bad but I usually don’t notice how I’m acting until someone points it out, and… and I realize now how I’ve been and I promise to leave them alone.”

Eddie shifts beside him, scooting closer to his hunched form on the couch. A hand enters his periphery, but Steve keeps his own firmly planted in his lap. He begins picking at the skin beside his nails, a nervous habit he can’t quite get rid of, to take his mind off the man next to him.

“I have one condition though,” Steve requests. He starts, pauses, and when the words get caught in the back of his throat he resorts to nervously rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. He needs to say them, needs Eddie to know, but the words just… won’t come out.

A slender hand moves over his and settles softly over his twitching fingers. Steve stops picking at the contact, the touch freezing him and filling him with unbearable warmth at the same time. He doesn’t look up, afraid to find the annoyance that’s most likely there at his repetitive movements, and instead lets the touch wash over him. It travels up his hands, through his arms, and bee-lines for his fragile heart. It travels up his neck, unsticking the words there and giving them new life.

“Promise me you’ll take care of the kids, Eds,” he croaks out, voice suddenly raw and fragile. “Take care of them and of yourself too, okay?”

There’s silence after his request but Steve doesn’t dare move. His eyes never travel up to look at Eddie, and he doesn’t think he has the right to. He doesn’t want to see the discontent on his face, or the satisfaction or acceptance or happiness or whatever it is at the thought of never having to see Steve and all of his bullshit anymore.

Instead, he focuses on the hand over his, his eyes tracing the divots of the knuckles and the faint freckles found there. He counts the visible veins and follows their path upwards. He watches the tendons flex as Eddie taps his hand twice, the motion so deliberate it causes Steve to look up at him on instinct.

The expression he finds there is not what he was expecting. His eyes are wide and glossy, the deep brown shining a little in the midday sunlight. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are a thin line. It’s an expression Steve’s never seen before, one that doesn’t feel right on Eddie’s face. He looks… in a word, Eddie looks scared.

That quickly changes, however, when Eddie roughly shakes his head from side to side—fluffing up his hair in the process—and looks at Steve with concern. He points at his mouth and Steve only quirks an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what that means—“

He’s cut off by Eddie shooting off the couch, looking left and right before falling to the ground on his knees with his back to Steve.

“… Eddie?”

Steve is ignored as Eddie stretches his arms out and pats the rug as if looking for something. Steve’s two seconds away from joining him on the floor when Eddie makes a triumphant noise and stands up, turning back to Steve and holding up his hand with his fingers clenched around… nothing.

There’s nothing in his hand but Eddie still brings it up to his face and just then, Steve realizes he was looking for the invisible key he threw away earlier. Eddie mimes unlocking and unzipping his lips, and Steve finds the whole action so ridiculously Eddie that he can’t help but shed a ghost of a smile.

“Stevie…” Eddie murmurs, a hand coming up to rest on Steve’s cheek so gently it makes his chest hurt. Eddie flicks his eyes between Steve’s, the deep brown reflecting some of the light from the open window. This close, Steve can see small swirls of yellow within the brown, like golden leaves passing by warm bark as they fall in autumn.

Eddie wipes under his eyes with his free hand, and Steve can feel wetness drying on his cheeks. He didn’t realize he was crying, but Eddie’s gentleness makes more sense now. He smiles at him, a sad little thing that has no right being this beautiful on his face, as he pushes some of Steve’s admittedly flat and greasy hair out of his eyes.

His hair is getting long now, falling just at his shoulders, but he has no desire to cut it. Sure, it gets in his face all the time and he has to use the little claw clips he stole from Robin to keep the shorter pieces back when he gets hot but cutting it… it just doesn’t feel right anymore.

Maybe it’s because his parents aren’t here to tell him he looks bad with long hair, and that he should cut it before people start “talking”. Maybe it’s because it’s new and Steve liked how long his hair had gotten when he worked at Scoops but had cut it when Robin did so they would match. Maybe it’s because he feels more himself when it’s long, like he’s letting go of the pretty boy jock of the past and finally being himself. Or maybe—and more likely—it’s because he stopped caring about what he looked like since no one was around to see him anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

Steve freezes. Blinks. Opens his mouth once, closes it, repeats the process.

Because in what world would Eddie Munson need to apologize to him?

Steve is the one who fucked up. Steve is the one who pushed everyone away, who was too much. Steve was the harbinger of his own self-destruction. It was always Steve, Steve, Steve—

“No, Stevie—“ Eddie begins, then cuts himself off. His hands grip Steve’s face tighter, small in pressure and forcing him to look into his eyes. “Don’t do that. I know what your head is telling you, sweetheart, but let me explain before you come to any conclusions, yeah?”

And Steve… he doesn’t know what to say. No one has ever noticed him like this before. Has never shown it even if they had.

“It’s—It’s okay, Eds, you don’t—“

“No, I do, Steve. I need to explain, okay? Will you let me?”

Eddie is asking Steve for permission. Is asking for time, for a chance, and Steve has no other choice but to grant him his wish. He nods in Eddie’s hold, shallow but meaningful all the same. Eddie smiles that sad smile, the one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and shifts so his whole body is facing Steve. Full attention is drawn to him, consuming him, and Steve only sits. Watches. Waits.

“Just… When I tell you, will you promise not to be mad?” Eddie scrunches his face like he’s waiting for a verbal assault, like he’s waiting for Steve to say ‘no’. He doesn’t know if he could ever be truly mad at Eddie, doesn’t think a bone in his body could hate the man before him.

“Eds, I could never hate you,” he murmurs. “I promise, I won’t be mad.”

Eddie huffs, something akin to a laugh and a sigh, and looks down at his lap. His face is colored with sour sadness, something that has died long ago and turned rotten.

“I don’t know if you can keep that promise, Steve. Not for this.”

“Eddie, look at me,” Steve asks, and Eddie does as he’s told. He looks right in his eyes, holding eye contact, and says, “I promise I will never, ever hate you.”

Eddie nods, takes a breath and Steve can feel the slight tremble of his hands.

“As much as I regret the truth, your soulmate is the main reason I’m here right now,” he begins, smiles to deflect and rolls his eyes. “Robin practically burst into my trailer to tell me to get my shit together and she was right because Steve… Steve, I was a mess.

“I could barely function. I’d spend all day in my room, playing songs over and over and over again until I heard them in my sleep because I couldn’t let myself give in to what I wanted most.”

He doesn’t say it, not explicitly, but Steve knows. He knows, because he feels the same thing. That unbearable need to be with someone, the near possession that sinks down to his core and forges iron bars in his bones. The weight that settles in his stomach when he’s without, when he’s alone. He knows, because he’s felt that way about the man in front of him everyday since March. Since senior year. Since goddamn high school—

“There’s this person,” Eddie confesses. “I’ve found someone that makes me really happy.”

The world stops. Time slows. Steve feels his heart pause in his chest, feels it skip a beat. His body grows cold and washes from head to toe, the iciness reverberating in his bones. Eddie’s found someone. He’s found someone that isn’t Steve.

It’s the worst case scenario. Eddie has found someone and is here to let him down easy. His visit makes more sense now. Eddie has figured out his feelings and is here to reject him. Reject him because Eddie’s with someone else—

“Oh,” he breathes out. He can feel his head start to float, can feel his mind slipping away because it doesn’t want to think anymore, doesn’t want to accept that Eddie doesn’t want him. The fuzziness returns, clouding the edges of his vision.

“Can I tell you about them?” Eddie asks, like they’re friends. Like they regularly tell each other about their crushes. Like this is just.. like it’s fun. Steve only has the strength to nod.

“They’re beautiful,” Eddie starts. “They have silky brown hair and tan skin, marked with cute little moles and an array of scars. They wear these tight little Levi’s that drive me crazy, I mean it’s downright sinful.

“More importantly, they’re sweet. They always put others before themself, always asking how everyone else is despite no one ever asking how they are. They give out rides and take people wherever they want, no matter what. They’re a little bit of a pushover, but it’s only because they love people so fully and wholly that they can’t help it.

“This person… I think they’re it for me, Stevie,” Eddie finishes. “I think I’ve found the one.”

The words hit him like an out of body experience, like he’s watching himself have this conversation without having any conscious input. It doesn’t feel real. Steve can’t feel the couch underneath him or the blanket around his shoulders, just as he can’t hear the words from Eddie’s mouth or the meaning behind them. His brain stopped working when Eddie confessed and now he’s running on autopilot alone.

“I’m happy for you, Eddie,” he pushes out with a smile, a fake plastic-like thing that feels heavy on his face. “I hope it works out for you two.”

“Me too. This person means a lot to me, you know.”

He doesn’t, and he really doesn’t want to. Honestly, Steve just wants this conversation to be over so he can crawl in his bed and decompose for the next month.

“I’m glad.” He’s not.

“The kids love them and so does Robin. They make us feel complete, and without them we’re a mess.”

Those words wake him up a little. They’ve already met the kids and Robin. They fit just as Steve didn’t. They complete the puzzle of the full family picture, one without Steve in it. They’ve replaced him. They don’t need him. They’ll never need him, he’s just—

“It’s good that they’ve found someone. They need someone like that.”

“Yeah, Stevie, they do,” Eddie says quietly. “But I did something that made them go away, and I’m trying to get them back.

“See, I thought that if I kept myself away, that my feelings would go away too. But uh…” Eddie looks down at his lap and huffs. “My feelings are still here and all I did was push away the person I wanted most.”

“I’m sure they’ll forgive you,” he assures, even though the words feel like ash on his tongue. “If they’re any good, they’ll understand.”

Eddie looks at him then, his dark brown eyes boring into his. Steve looks back, flicking his eyes across his face as if it holds the secrets to the universe. As if Eddie’s face will tell him what he’s supposed to do next.

“Well, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Understand,” Eddie supplies. There’s a small, sad smile on his face as he tilts his head. Steve furrows his brows.

“Why would I need to—“

He pauses. Rethinks Eddie’s words.

“…Brown hair and tan skin… moles… scars… rides… pushover”

No. It can’t be him, it can’t. Steve can’t listen to Eddie’s loud music for more than a few minutes before getting a migraine. He’s got no experience being with a guy and has only just recently accepted that he’d like to be with one. There’s no way Eddie could be talking about him because he isn’t special, isn’t someone Eddie would like. At least, not like that. Steve is just Steve, and Eddie is so… so Eddie.

But Eddie’s looking at him with that look, the one he gives when he’s trying to tell him something without actually saying it. His doe eyes are staring at him full force, working overtime to tell Steve something he can’t quite understand.

Eddie quirks an eyebrow and something clicks. Puzzle pieces start to fall into place.

But… It can’t be—

“Me,” Steve whispers. It’s a small, broken thing, like a butterfly with a busted wing. Beautiful but tarnished, alive but not whole. Eddie only smiles, this one less sad and more soft.

“Yeah, Stevie, you,” he whispers back, just as quiet. “Staying away from you was the hardest thing I ever did, and I will spend the rest of my goddamn life regretting it.”

It doesn’t make any sense why Eddie would stay away when they’ve both been pulled together like two dying stars in a collapsing universe. Steve thought he was alone in his wanting, in his pining, but Eddie had been right there with him and that… that is terrifying.

He wants to scream at him, to yell and ask him a million times ‘why?’. He wants to punch a fucking wall. He wants to beg and plead for an explanation. He wants to cry, and maybe throw up a little. He wants to collapse in Eddie’s arms and be held, be kept safe, and he doesn’t ever, ever, want to leave.

Pressure on his face makes his eyes drift back up, unaware they had wandered elsewhere until Eddie coaxed them back to him. He thinks that every part of him will always drift back to Eddie somehow, like he’s the beacon Steve will forever be drawn to. A hand slips off his cheek, fits right over one of Steve’s like a missing puzzle piece. Steve turns his hand and slots his fingers between Eddie’s.

“I never hated you, Steve. Never,” Eddie confesses, cheeks catching a rosy glow as he looks down at their hands, fingers entwined. “It was uh… the opposite, actually.”

There’s an implication there, a little snippet of what Eddie’s really saying. ‘I like you, Steve, I’ve always liked you. I lo—‘

Steve squeezes his hand, rubbing his thumb along his knuckles and causing a smile to form on the others’ face. It’s small, shy like Eddie doesn’t know it’s there. He looks up then, eyes deep brown and yellow, and he’s beautiful but Steve feels like he’s dying all the same. Like Eddie has the power to keep him alive or kill him in one breath. The truth is, he does.

“I’m a coward, Stevie. Always have been,” Eddie huff a humorless laugh, more of a rush of air through his nose than anything. “I did what I always do. I ran. I ran from you.

“Not because of anything you did, mind you, but because I didn’t want to admit to whatever was—is—all up in my head. I didn’t wanna show too much and make you uncomfortable because I know how you are with touch sometimes and I didn’t trust myself to keep my hands to myself.

“I mean, god, do you know how many times I had to literally sit on my hands to keep from running them through your hair or holding your hand or doing the cheesy fucking yawn-and-stretch move?” He confesses, and the absurdity of it makes a loud laugh burst out of Steve’s throat. Eddie’s got a real smile on his face this time, one that’s happy, and maybe a little teasing. “I’m serious! I’m surprised no one caught me looking at you. I mean, I was always looking, Stevie, but I knew I could never touch—“

“You could’ve,” Steve interrupts, feels it’s important. He needs Eddie to know. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“You would have minded, Steve,” he insists. “I didn’t want to give you a friendly pat on the back or clap your shoulder. I wanted—I still want—something you don’t want to give me.”

“How do you know? How do you know I don’t want you to give it, Eddie?”

“‘Cause you don’t like me like that, Steve,” he says with a sad sort of confidence, like he knows it for a fact. Like Steve doesn’t feel the same and he—

Oh.

Eddie doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know what Steve’s feeling or what he’s been going through because he doesn’t believe Steve could ever want him back. This isn’t a mutual confession, this is Eddie bearing his throat at Steve in an attempt to bring him back. This is self-sacrifice, martyrdom at its finest.

This is Eddie planning a second suicide.

“By ‘that’ I mean gay, Steve. I’m… I’m gay,” Eddie confesses, but Steve is so wrapped up in his own mind that he can’t say what he wants to. He wants to smile, thank him for sharing, assure him that nothing will change between them—unless they want it to—and hug him because telling people is hard.

But no words come out, and he’s stuck in Eddie’s gentle hand on his face and big brown eyes locked onto his.

“And I really hope you’re okay with it because I can live with not having you like that, I have before and I can do it again, but not having you at all is something I can’t survive. Something I won’t survive. Hell—I barely made it through staying away for as long as I did.

“Steve, I sat in my van multiple times over the past few weeks contemplating if I should come over to your house or not just because I missed you,” he exposes, mouth forming that beautifully sad smile. “But I went back inside every time because it was pathetic, I was pathetic.”

Eddie looks down, then immediately shoots his head up with wide eyes bouncing between Steve’s.

“Shit, now that I say that out loud it sounds incredibly creepy. Fuck… I didn’t mean it like that, I swear, I mean it wasn’t that often anyway and I never—“

“Eddie.”

His mouth shuts with an audible ‘click’, and Steve winces in sympathy. His wince turns into a hesitant smile, however, as he raises a shaky hand to cover Eddie’s on his cheek. He leans into the touch—probably more than he should—and watches the way Eddie’s eyes widen a little.

“You don’t hate me?” Steve mutters, those four words loud in the silence of his empty house.

Eddie shakes his head rapidly, reminding Steve a little bit of a puppy. “Like I said, Stevie, I could never hate you.”

He can’t help but scoff and roll his eyes, remembering the various lunchtime speeches the other announced to the cafeteria in high school about social hierarchies and sticking it to The Man.

“I’m sure you hated me in high school, Eds,” he counters.

Instead of agreement, Steve is—to his surprise—met with a very flustered and red Eddie. He’s ducked his face so it’s partially hidden behind loose ringlets of hair but Steve can still see the redness high on his cheeks. He won’t look at him, won’t lift his head, but something tells him it’s not because he doesn’t want to.

“Holy—“ Steve huffs a shocked laugh. “Edward Munson, did you have a crush on me?”

“Oh god,” Eddie groans, covering his face with both hands and shaking his head. “You’re going to be so annoying about this, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies innocently, a smirk firmly lodged on his face.

“Is it really that surprising?” Eddie asks rhetorically. “I mean, how’s a queer kid in small town America not gonna have a crush on the incredibly hot co-captain of the swim team with his tight little speedos and smarmy wink that makes everyone wanna drop their panties for him?”

Steve rolls his eyes but leans in a little and drops his voice just to tease him. “Did you want to drop your panties too, Eds?”

Eddie goes scarlet as he shoves Steve’s face away half heartedly. Steve cackles, unable to help it when Eddie flops back dramatically with an arm thrown over his face like a distressed damsel.

“But seriously,” Steve asks when his laughter has died down. “Why did you have a crush on me? I was a total douchebag.”

Eddie looks up at him from his slumped position on the couch and shakes his head as he sits up. “You were different.

“I could tell you didn’t enjoy what you did in school. You didn’t like being mean to people, didn’t like being cruel, and you always had this… this sympathy for people. People like Tommy and Carol and fucking Billy Hargrove had this hunger in their eyes but you… you never did.

“You were different from them. You were better, good. Even back then,” he insists. Eddie scoots closer and rests his hands on either side of Steve’s face, cupping it gently like he did earlier. He locks their eyes.

“You’re still good, Stevie,” he whispers and tilts his head with a smile. “Think you’ll always be good.”

There’s that word again. ‘Good’. Something he strives to be but can never quite reach. It’s like waking up from a dream and forgetting the details. They’re right there, just out of reach, but no matter how hard you try they always slip away.

His eyes begin to sting and water, salty droplets resting on his lower lashes and falling down his face as he blinks. His chest feels tight, like all the air was pushed out of his lungs and he can’t quite fill them up again. No one has ever told him that before. No one has ever looked past the shell forged of bitchy attitude and sarcastic comments to see what’s underneath and liked what they’d seen.

Eddie has looked now. He’d taken a chisel and hammer and patiently chipped away until Steve cracked, until his shell opened up and Eddie was allowed to look inside.

He can feel the way his mind floats away, how he recesses back into his head but not because he wants to. His emotions are a lot on their own, but coming out all at once like this is too much for him to handle.

He vaguely registers the way Eddie’s eyes blow wide and how carefully he wipes away his fresh tears. His mouth is moving, saying words Steve can’t hear as he falls apart. He can’t help the broken sob that climbs its way out his throat, nor the way he tries to duck his head to hide his face. Eddie won’t let him, however, and instead tugs him closer. An arm drops down around his waist and pulls, moving Steve in Eddie’s lap in one fluid motion. Eddie’s other hand gently coaxes his head to land in the crook of his neck, leaving Steve feeling safe and held in a way he’s never experienced before.

Heaving sobs wrack his body, forcing shudders that go down to his bones to ripple across his skin. Weeks, months—hell, years—of pent up emotions are flooding out now, soaking Eddie’s shirt and skin. He’s being loud, hiccuping and sniffling right next to Eddie’s ear but the other just holds him. He holds him in a way that’s protective, like Eddie’s trying to shield him from all the pain and hurt in his past. Like holding him could make it all go away. Steve desperately wishes that were the case, that he could leave all of it behind like he wants to. But he also knows it’s not that simple, that his pain won’t go away with one hug or a single kiss no matter how much he hopes.

He can feel the vibration of words underneath him but his brain can’t quite comprehend them. A hand is carding through his hair, gingerly detangling it and pulling ever so slightly. The pressure on his scalp helps him focus a little, brings him back into his body where crying had taken him out. Eddie is rocking back and forth and doesn’t stop when Steve calms down.

Steve goes to pull away, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. “Sorry, I don’t… I don’t know what that was—“

“Shhh,” Eddie cuts him off, both arms around his waist now and holding him in place. “It’s okay, Stevie, you clearly needed a good cry. Just didn’t know I’d be the one to instigate it.”

A laugh escapes him, Steve rolling his eyes as he shoves at the man beneath him playfully. He doesn’t get up, however, feeling safe in the arms that hold him in place. Eddie wipes away the rest of the tears drying on his face, giving Steve that small, private smile he’s only seen a handful of times. One he knows is just for him.

Eddie’s hand doesn’t leave his face and instead settles for brushing oily strands of hair back in place. Fingers linger on his cheekbones, tracing under his eyes and across the bridge of his nose. There’s a scar there on the bridge from where Jonathan had busted it, and later Billy added on by breaking it. His nose sits a little crooked now from not being properly healed, but Steve really couldn’t care less. Doesn’t think it matters much anymore, as it doesn’t seem to matter to Eddie either. Eddie’s eyes are soft, the corners of his mouth turned up just a little.

“What’s on your mind, Eds?” He whispers, voice strained from crying. The hand tracing his face pauses.

“Just thinking about you…” Eddie confesses, smile widening. “Even with your face blotchy red and puffy from crying, you’re still beautiful.”

It’s Steve’s turn to blush, face turning red as Eddie laughs.

“It’s true!”

“Is not—“

“No, I’m totally right.”

“Uh-huh.” Steve rolls his eyes before closing them for a moment, letting himself smile. The tightness in his chest has dissipated now, his lungs free to breathe. He leans back slightly, just enough to find and play with the hem of Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie’s hands squeeze his waist, making him look up. “What’s on your mind, Stevie?”

Steve huffs a laugh at the repeated phrase. “Where to start…”

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Eddie assures. Steve takes a breath.

“I can’t believe this is real, Eds. That you’re… you’re here and holding me like I’m special,” he begins, focusing on his hands playing with Eddie’s shirt hem instead of the man himself. “I didn’t think anyone would hold me like this—would even want to—much less you.”

“Why not, Steve?” His voice is gentle, coaxing. Steve hesitates to tell him, to give him the truth of what he’s been feeling the whole time. But Eddie was brave, he told Steve and now it’s time to return the favor.

“‘Cause I’ve had a crush on you for months, Eds, ever since that stupid fucking boathouse. I should’ve said something but I… I was too scared to say anything. Didn’t want to get my heart broken again.

“Then you stopped coming around and hanging out and wouldn’t talk to me or tell me what I did wrong and it… it fucking hurt, Eddie,” he confesses. He sniffles, trying to calm down before he starts crying again. He’s had enough humiliation for the day, thank you.

“It hurt because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, not even Nancy. Hell, she’s practically no one compared to what I feel about you. There’s this… this feeling of wholeness when I’m with you, like I finally feel complete somehow despite not even knowing part of me was missing. Having a taste of that and then losing it, losing you, made me break.

“I didn’t know if you felt the same, and I still can’t really believe that you do,” Steve admits. He clenches his eyes closed, begging the tears pricking his eyes to go away. “I’ve accepted that I’m not cut out for love. Everyone I try to get close to never seems to stick around long afterwards, so I’ve just… stopped trying.

“I told myself I’d keep my distance. I mean… I know I’m too much for people sometimes, got too much going on up in my head, and I thought that was why you pulled away,” he finishes. Eddie squeezes his waist again, causing Steve to look up and find a pained expression on his face he’s sure he’s not supposed to see.

“How… how could you think that?” Eddie questions, voice quiet like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s saying. Eddie cups his cheek with a soft hand, brushing his thumb across his cheekbone as he looks in his eyes. “How could you think that no one could love Steve Harrington?”

It’s a question he has a million answers to, a million different reasons for why. They replay in his head constantly, ever present and never fading. Letting it all out and telling Eddie what he can barely admit to himself isn’t something he thinks he can do.

But Eddie’s looking at him now with those big brown eyes and soft lips curved slightly downwards into a subtle frown, eyebrows scrunched earnestly. It makes all of his inhibitions melt away, makes his tongue unfreeze and words bubble up his throat.

“People have always loved the idea of me, Eds,” he begins. He smiles a bitter smile that feels like acid on his lips. “King Steve with daddy’s money to keep the liquor cabinet well-stocked and absent parents gone for weeks at a time meant an empty mansion perfect for parties. People would show up before I even knew what was going on, but I learned to go with it because saying no didn’t seem like an option. I’d just grab a bottle and hope for the best, figuring I might as well have a good time–or at least pretend like it.

“A few people looked under that facade and saw who I really was beyond all that. Tommy knew I hated parties and loud noises but nine times out of ten he was the one to invite everyone over. Nancy… I don’t think she ever really understood. Nance always had this preconceived notion about how people were and how they’re supposed to be and she couldn’t accept that I was different than that, that I diverged from her point of view.

“Looking back at it now, I think that’s a major reason why we didn’t work out. When people look at me, the real me, they never tend to stick around long afterwards. Hagan quit talking to me when I admitted I didn’t want to harass people anymore and Nancy—well, you pretty much know what happened but she didn’t stay long after I changed either,” Steve admits. He closes his eyes and leans into Eddie’s hand. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

Movement makes his eyes open to see Eddie shaking his head. “That’s not who I’m talking about,” Eddie corrects as he cups Steve’s face with both hands, the empty space on his waist feeling cold in the absence of warm arms.

“The Steve I’m talking about makes soup for sick Party members and parents. He gives out little gifts he picks up just ‘cause for the kids, Robin, or me. He hates who he was in the past, and has done more than enough to make up for it—not that he needed to in the first place. The Steve I’m talking about cares so much for other people that it consumes him to the point where he forgets about himself sometimes,” Eddie pauses, and Steve takes it as an opportunity to interrupt.

“But I haven’t done any of that in weeks, Eds,” he protests. “Besides, I’ve got tons of free time to look after myself now that the kids aren’t talking to me and—“

He cuts himself off at Eddie’s wince, a harsh thing that scrunches up his eyes and makes him flinch back like he was hit. It’s enough to make him wonder if he said something wrong, something that upset Eddie that he didn’t know about. God, can he do anything right? Jesus fucking Christ he’s hopeless.

“That’s uh…” Eddie trails off, pointedly avoiding eye contact as he sucks a breath through his teeth. “That’s my fault too.”

What?

“What?” Steve asks. “Wait, how?”

“The kids,” Eddie pauses to shake his head and mumble. “Stupid ones at that, came to the very misguided conclusion that I didn’t like you and started avoiding you on my behalf. Which I know is very unfair since you’ve known them way longer than I have and have literally saved their lives countless times. Like I said, stupid kids.”

Steve blinks. Thinks, blinks again. This wasn’t his fault. He did nothing to warrant being ignored for weeks, for being talked down to or excluded from conversations or gatherings. He did nothing to the kids, to Joyce or Hop or Robin or Eddie or anyone. He. Did. Nothing.

All of his paranoia, all the sleepless nights he spent roaming the streets with a bat covered in nails and dried blood was for nothing. All the worry, all the nightmares and panic attacks over the Party dying was for nothing. All the fear that turned his veins to ice and caused his words to stop was for nothing.

“Oh.”

It was all a misunderstanding. A silly little misunderstanding that made him lose his goddamn mind for weeks and obsess over every little interaction he’d had with the Party to try and parse out what went wrong. It was all because of some stupid crush and some stupid kids who like to stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the long ends before meeting Eddie’s gaze. He looks apologetic, like he knows what Steve went through and is feeling it all second hand. There’s anguish in his eyes, like Steve’s pain is now his. In a way, it is.

“Steve, I’m sorry I caused all of this,” Eddie apologizes. “I’ve already talked to the kids and told them the truth—well, some of the truth, anyways—and they know what they did was wrong. I told them to give you some space though, so you’ve got a day or two before a bunch of teens bombard your house and start throwing apologies at you. Also, Robin was totally mean to me today but she knows—wait, why are you laughing?”

Steve can’t help the laugh that escapes his throat, or the way his eyes water as his eyes scrunch. This is all so ridiculously funny, like a sitcom episode in real life. The pining idiots have a misunderstanding and there’s despair on both sides until the truth is revealed and they confess. The ‘what if’s play through his head, but instead of worst-case scenarios it’s what he and Eddie could have been this whole time if they had gotten their heads out of their asses sooner.

“Sorry, sorry, I just—“ he cuts himself off to wipe his eyes. “I was just thinking that I should’ve kissed you when I had the chance. It would’ve prevented all of this from happening.”

It’s a delight to watch Eddie’s eyes widen and face grow red at his explanation, and Steve feels like he discovered the eighth wonder of the world when the other man lets out an honest to god squeak that has no right being as cute as it is.

“What—“ Eddie begins with a strained voice before clearing it and starting over. “What do you mean by that?”

His laughing dislodged Eddie’s hands from his face, so Steve takes the opportunity to mirror the gesture on the metalhead before him. His hands cup squishy and faintly freckled cheeks, thumbs framing his cheekbones and fingers cradling the back of his head. Warmth radiates throughout his palms and up his arms, forming a gooey smile he’s sure looks as lovesick as he feels.

Huh. Lovesick. That’s new. Wait—

Holy shit he’s in love with Eddie Munson.

The realization is not as profound as he’d thought it would be. It’s a gentle understanding, one that washes over him like warm bath water. He knew deep down that he was in love, but the label was never placed upon his feelings. But they were there, and had been for far longer than he realized.

They were there when he stumbled down the steps of the Creel house in the Upside Down, world tilting on its axis as the ground shook. There was screeching all around him, sounds of otherworldly monsters calling out in anger or fear, he didn’t know. Didn’t really care. All he cared about was getting out of that hell, getting topside with everyone still intact.

Then he heard the screaming. The crying. The call for help.

He didn’t wait for Robin or Nancy to follow him, taking off as fast as he could to where Eddie and Dustin were. He didn’t know what to expect, didn’t want to think about the endless things he could find once he entered the trailer park. Didn’t want to think about Dustin or Eddie hurt, about them bleeding out or dy—

No. No, they were fine. They were fine. They had to be.

…Right?

He stumbled up to Eddie’s trailer but there was no sign of them. He looked around, confused and panicked, to find two bodies amongst a mass of withering wings. Time felt like it slowed, like the world had been put on pause. He doesn’t remember the walk over to them, only that he was repeating the mantra of ‘don’t let it be Dustin’ over and over again. But it wasn’t Dustin. It was Eddie.

It was Eddie with the same bites he himself had, except deeper and torn. It was Eddie covered in blood and the ripped remnants of his shirt with tears rolling down his cheeks. It was Eddie lying there motionless, entirely still save for the faint jostling as Dustin sobbed over him. It was Eddie dead. It was—

Eddie’s dead. He’s dead. He—

No. No, no, no, he can’t be dead. He can’t.

There’s too many things he wants—no, needs—to say. He needs to tell him that his crooked smile makes his knees weak. He needs to tell him that he wants to run his fingers through his wild, unruly hair. He needs to tell him that he wants to kiss those soft lips. He needs to tell him he’s felt this way for far too long already. He needs, he needs, he needs.

Afterwards was a blur of desperation, like his body knew it had to do anything it could to save the man before him. He remembers doing CPR, remembers the sickening crunch of bone as ribs snapped that made him want to puke. He remembers leaning over Eddie, watching as his figure distorted with unshed tears, and praying to a god he doesn’t believe in. He remembers watching his tears fall on Eddie’s face and roll down his cheek, leaving clean streaks through the blood splattered there. He remembers leaning down and pressing an ear to his chest.

He remembers the overwhelming amount of pure relief he felt when Eddie started breathing again. He remembers the pained groan Eddie let out as Steve picked him up and carried him out. He remembers that Eddie’s alive.

His feelings were there as he sat in the hospital waiting room bouncing his knee and staring at the doors Eddie disappeared behind. Dustin had been taken back a few minutes earlier to get his leg looked at but all Steve could think about was Eddie.

Was he still alive? Had they managed to stop the bleeding? Were his wounds infected? Did they have to intubate or was he strong enough to breath on his own? Was he awake? Was he in pain? Will he—

“Mr. Harrington, will you come with me please?” A short nurse called from the double doors that led into the hallway. His head snapped up to her, eyes wide like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He looked over at Robin, taking in the way she was chewing on her fingernails and nervously glancing around. He patted her knee before he stood up, wincing when the movement pulled at his wounds. He hadn’t had them looked at yet, deciding to let everyone else go first. His wounds weren’t that bad anyway, he got lucky.

He doesn’t feel like he did, really.

As he walked up to her, he could feel her eyes on him. Could feel her scanning him. Assessing him. It made him nervous. But then she smiled that polite nurse smile and it eased just a little bit.

“Mr. Harrington, are you here for Mr. Munson?”

“Uh, yes, ma’am,” he answered, even though he’s sure she knew who he was here for. When he busted through the emergency room doors with Eddie’s body in his arms, they refused to see him. Said they didn’t want to treat a murderer. Admittedly, what Steve did wasn’t inherently right but having the Harrington name pays off sometimes. Especially when your family is one of the main funders for the hospital.

“I can’t tell you much since you’re not legally related, but I will say that he is currently stable. Unfortunately, that’s the extent of the information I’m allowed to give you,” she informed, a sad look in her eyes. “Is there anyone we can contact who is related to Mr. Munson?”

“His uh… his uncle, Wayne Munson,” Steve supplied. “He works at the local plant if that’s any help.”

He really wished it would.

“Thank you, we’ll start trying to locate him,” she responded. “Meanwhile, I think you should have that looked at.”

Steve followed her gaze to where his wounds were, noticing that they had started bleeding again. The makeshift bandage Nancy had fastened was loose from hauling Eddie, and he’s surprised no one told him to see to it sooner.

He grimaces as he looks at her, the pain flooding back to the surface once he realized it had yet to be taken care of, and nods. “Yeah, I think uh… I think you’re right.”

As soon as he walked back out to the waiting room after he was patched up, the emergency doors burst open to reveal a middle-aged man. He was gray-headed and slightly balding, wearing an old flannel and dirty jeans as he bee-lined for the reception desk. There was no doubt that this was Wayne Munson; he had Eddie’s eyes.

The nurse at the desk was talking to him, and every word seemed to suck more of the life from Wayne’s eyes. She pointed to Steve, and he felt frozen as Wayne looked over at him. He managed a smile and a small wave, but then Wayne was walking over to him and his stomach dropped.

“The lady said you brought my boy in?” Wayne asked, but his question was more of a statement than anything. It made Steve nervous to have the man look at him expectantly, like he had answers. Like he had something to do with Eddie being where he is now. In a way, he does.

“Yes, sir, I did. We were together when the… when the earthquake hit,” he supplies, forgetting what the cover story was halfway through. He gestured to the rest of the Party sitting in the room, half of them asleep and slumped over while the rest were wound tight and pacing. “The doctors didn’t wanna see him when we got here.”

“She said you were a Harrington,” Wayne stated. His eyes were cold and hard, face giving away nothing. It made Steve’s blood freeze. His name carries a lot of weight, yes, but it’s not the good kind. People hear his name and sneer. They think of all the rich, posh assholes he’s still neighbors with. They think of his parents with their vacations and mansions and money they throw at problems to make them go away, including Steve. No one thinks the Harringtons are good people, and Wayne seems to feel the same.

“By birth, yes, but respectfully, the Harringtons can go fuck themselves.”

It brings a surprised huff out of the older man, some warmth flooding back into his eyes at Steve’s blunt remark. He puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly in a way that makes Steve think Wayne almost wants to hug him.

“Thank you for saving my boy…?” Wayne trailed off, raising an eyebrow and waiting. It took an embarrassingly long moment for him to realize what he wanted.

“Uh, Steve, sir. It’s Steve.”

“Steve,” Wayne finished. He gave what Steve thinks was an approximation of a smile, squeezing his shoulder once more before removing his hand. “You’re a good kid, Steve. Think you could do my boy some good if ya stick around.”

The sentiment made Steve smile a little. “If he’ll let me, I’ll stay as long as he’d like.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any problem with that, Steve,” Wayne answered mysteriously before he disappeared behind the double doors leading to the hallway, presumedly to find Eddie. Steve watched him go, watched the doors close behind his retreating back. He sighed before sitting down beside Robin, leaning his head on her shoulder and waited.

Now, he’s tired of waiting.

“It means, Eds, that I should’ve kissed you sooner,” Steve confesses, relishing in the second squeak Eddie lets out. “I should’ve kissed you in the woods in the Upside Down after you helped fight off the demobats, and again in the RV after you called me ‘big boy’—which I did like, by the way.

“I should’ve kissed you when you said to make Vecna pay, and again when you were bleeding out in my arms, and again when you woke up in the hospital because, Eds, I was so goddamn happy you were alive.

“I should’ve kissed you when I picked up the kids from their first Hellfire meeting after spring break from Hell, after they all bounded out of the trailer like puppies high on adrenaline and talking a mile a minute. You had come out with a huge smile on your face as you watched them from the front porch, arms crossed and leaning against the railing. I remember they wanted to tell me about the new villain you had come up with and you had told them to ‘give your mother some space, she’s had a long day’. Ever since then I’ve been ‘mom’, thanks to you,” Steve recalls, smiling at the memory rolling his eyes at both Eddie’s and the kid’s antics.

“I should’ve kissed you all those times you came into Family Video. Should’ve dragged you in the break room and kissed you senseless until Robin banged on the door,” Steve finishes. During his rant, a grin steadily grew on Eddie’s face, fully displaying his dimples. Steve finally gives into temptation and traces them with his thumb, easily finding the subtle divot and grazing over it gently.

“Sounds like we have a lot of time to make up for,” Eddie all but whispers, voice raspy and petal-soft. His eyes are fixated on Steve’s lips, and he can’t help but dart his tongue out to wet them to watch the way Eddie tracks the movement. Steve smiles and leans in a little.

“We do,” he agrees before using his grip to pull Eddie into a kiss. Their mouths slot together like they were always meant to, lips meeting in the middle and eyes softly closing.

Kissing Eddie Munson is like nothing he’d ever imagined. Eddie is a whirlwind, loud and brash with an attitude and sass for days. Steve thought he would kiss like he acts, thought it would be rough and all-consuming but this… this kiss is sweet. Just like how Eddie really is underneath everything else.

It’s slow and deliberate, like Eddie is trying to savor it as much as he can. Steve can’t deny that he is too, that he’s committing every second of this to memory and filing it away in the open box with Eddie’s name on it in his mind.

There’s a thrum under his skin, a growing electricity that bubbles and pops beneath his lips. It’s been years since he felt it, that intensity of a good kiss with the right person. He wants to chase it, wants it to consume him wholly until all he can feel is the zing of Eddie’s skin touching his.

Steve pulls him closer with the grip on his hair, opening his mouth slightly wider and delighting in the way Eddie’s tongue sneaks in to trace the line of his teeth. He smiles into the kiss, and Eddie does too, until they’re less than kissing and more like breathing each other in. Eddie giggles against his lips and Steve soon follows, their laughter growing until tears spring in their eyes.

Steve is the first to compose himself, dropping his arms to rest around the others shoulders and taking a breath before resting his forehead against Eddie’s. He can’t wipe the smile off his face and could never find reason enough to want to. He’s finally here, sitting in Eddie’s lap and being held like he matters.

“We’re idiots,” he murmurs, going cross-eyed as he tries to look in Eddie’s eyes. He smiles when Eddie tries to look back, going cross-eyed as well. He feels Eddie nod against him in agreement. “Total morons.”

Steve giggles at the blunt statement, closing his eyes and relishing in the fact that he has this now. This beautiful person who he can kiss and laugh and cry with and feel safe in a way he hasn’t felt in years. Robin is a saint, yes, but she—

He cuts his thoughts off with a groan as a realization washes over him, dropping his head to Eddie’s shoulder. He feels more than hears Eddie chuckle underneath him and smiles when he feels arms come up to wrap around his waist.

“What’s wrong, Stevie?” Eddie asks softly. Steve groans again for good measure, making sure to up the dramatics as much as possible.

“Robin’s gonna be so pissed at me,” he supplies.

Eddie hums underneath him. “Why’s that?”

Steve lifts his head to look at him, a cheeky smile on his face. “‘Cause I got a boyfriend first.”

It’s a half-truth, Steve deciding to play it safe in case Eddie doesn’t know. No relationship is worth outing a platonic soulmate, that much he does know.

Whether he knows or not, Eddie doesn’t show. Instead, a grin overtakes his face as a blush settles high on his cheeks. Eddie pulls back a little to get a good look at his face, eyes searching for something. “Do you mean it?”

“I’d want it more than anything in the world, Eds,” he murmurs, fingers lacing behind his neck and thumb brushing the tiny curly hairs found there.

Eddie takes a breath under him, shoulders rising with the action. Before Steve knows it, he’s being thrown off his very warm and very comfortable lap to flop against the stiff couch cushions. He’s about to protest, to ask what the hell that was for, but the sight before him makes the words die in his throat.

Eddie’s honest to god dancing around his living room, wagging his tight little ass around while fist-pumping the air. His hair bounces around and falls in his face, but nothing can obscure the blinding smile there. His dimples are on full display once again, and Steve finds that he could get used to seeing them everyday.

Steve laughs at his antics, which now include miming an incredibly complicated air guitar solo and head banging to imaginary music. This. This is the total dork of a man he managed to fall for. The thought makes him smile and watch his boy.

His boy. He likes the sound of that.

Next thing he knows, Eddie’s tackling him into the couch. Knees land on either side of his thighs and hands push his shoulders into the cushions before resting just above them. His hair tie has fallen out, causing a curtain of hair to block off anything other than Eddie’s face and making it seem like it’s only the two of them in the whole world.

Kisses are pressed to his face; both of his cheeks, the middle of his forehead, the tip of his nose, and all too briefly, his mouth. Eddie pulls back just so, the tips of their noses brushing.

“I would love to be your boyfriend,” he says through a smile.

Steve huffs a laugh, smiling at the man above him. “I kinda got that from the whole dance routine, Eds. Been practicing much?”

“Shut up,” Eddie groans while blushing, dropping his head so the curtain of hair hides him.

Steve tucks a chunk of hair behind Eddie’s ear. “Make me.”

Eddie looks up at him through his lashes, giving him a wolfish grin that briefly makes his stomach drop and tingles spread out over his skin. The other man leans down, flickering his eyes between Steve’s and his lips before kissing him.

This one is filled with warmth, so much so it reminds him of Joyce’s kitchen at the barbecue yet far more intense. It fills him with something akin to a warm summer morning, where dewdrops still grace the blades of grass and the sun makes them twinkle in the growing light.

It takes a second for him to realize that the feeling is happiness, that kissing Eddie makes him happy. It’s enough to make him almost start tearing up again, as he had resigned himself to never feeling this way again. He only hopes Eddie doesn’t—

Eddie notices. Of course he does, he notices almost everything—almost being a big word here. He pulls away, leaning on one elbow in order to prop himself up while the other hand finds its way to Steve’s cheek. His brows are furrowed, forming that little worry line between them as he looks down at him.

“Stevie, what’s wrong?” Eddie questions but Steve just shakes his head.

“Nothing’s wrong, Eds, promise.”

Those words grant him a look, one that says the other doesn’t believe him, and Steve rolls his eyes because really, he’s fine. The affronted look on Eddie’s face causes him to laugh wetly, making him realize he must be closer to crying than he initially thought.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just…” he pauses to sniffle. “I just realized something.”

“What is it?” Eddie asks before wiping a tear away from the corner of Steve’s eye with his thumb. The action makes him smile, a juxtaposition to his crying.

“I’m happy,” he confesses. “I’m genuinely fucking happy for the first time in ages and this,” he pauses and grabs Eddie’s face gently, barely cradling his jaw in his hands. “You make me happy.”

He watches Eddie go soft, his tense posture from worrying going slack. His big brown eyes fill with pure love as he leans in again, kissing Steve. That’s what the third kiss feels like; love.

It feels like coming home after a long day and cuddling on the couch, sharing lazy kisses while watching trashy TV and eating shitty fast food. It feels like dancing in the kitchen to a song on the radio, singing the lyrics to one another without a care in the world if it sounds bad. It feels like holding each other in the night, soothing away nightmares with gentle touches and soft kisses and kind words.

Steve sighs into the kiss, opening up and deepening it just a little before dragging Eddie down on top of him. Eddie squawks and flops on him, his body weight grounding Steve and making him feel present, real. He huffs, the air tickling Steve’s throat where his head landed, causing Steve to roll his eyes at his antics while pulling the blanket on the back of the couch over the both of them.

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just said so,” Eddie mumbles, voice muffled from both the blanket and his position over Steve. Steve only smiles, a hand finding Eddie’s hair to idly play with it.

“What’s the fun in that?” He counters. He feels Eddie shrug before shuffling around to get more comfortable, ending up curled on his chest with an arm wrapped tight around his waist.

Steve kisses the top of Eddie’s head before settling down himself, closing his eyes and listening to the steady breathing of the other man paired with the thu-thump of his heart. As he does so, he thinks that maybe he’s not as alone as he’d thought. That maybe, just maybe, he really is cut out for love.

———

Permanent tag list: @small-teacup @estrellami-1 @merricatty @bookworm0690

Fic tag list: @madcapromantic @hannahhook7744 @h3rmitsunited @willim-billiam-byerson @stuftzombie @acowardinmordor @zerokrox-blog @my-chemical-sexuality-crisis @grimmfitzz @ladygrimheart @bestwifehaver @blanketlicker @fishinforfiish @vi-an-te @orionchildofhades @7shrewsinatrenchcoat @whackyrach @stevie-crow @missmagillicuddy @1cookieburn1 @mightbeasleep @jettestar @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @imyelenasexual @yikes-a-bee @that-agender-from-pluto @sufjuringstevens @gregre369 @sofadofax @lolawonsstuff @rajumat @ksierra674 @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window @justforthedead89 @vanillatwist @actually-races-erster @background-noise-headache @warlordless @largechaos @noctxrn-e @hope-can-be-your-sword @foundintheshallows @burningoffaroad @obliosworld @lemon-astra @midnightskeeper @venteraltus @lovelyscot @juleswashere3 @child-of-cthulhu @phantomcat94 @davekat-has-consumed-me @weirdandabsurd42 @dreamlandforever @madamonsieur-silvrene @pottenloved247 @froggistain @mycatsstolemybiscuit @greatsportsprofessorathlete @m-owo-n @pickledcarrots0

#steddie #stranger things #disposable heroes #eddie munson #steve harrington #disposable heroes mcir #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #we finally get steve and eddie talking to each other yall #everything gets resolved! #happy endings!!

[anonymous-dentist]

Anything about

Forever and Roier being werewolf buddies? 🤔 Or something along those lines

This scene takes place somewhere between chapters 10 and 11 of Breaking Dawn. ;)

-

Roier is in line at the OXXO when an abnormally tall man sidles up next to him holding a bag of Doritos the size of a small child.

Upon first glance, he’s a stranger. Upon second glance, he’s Cellbit’s rude blond friend, the one that tried stabbing him with that stick that one time. The other werewolf. Forever, slash neg.

Roier does not like him.

And so Roier decides to ignore the shit out of him. He’s tired of confrontation, it keeps messing with his vibes.

But Forever looks down at him with a scowl and he says in English, “I know what you are.”

Roier, confused and mildly offended, replies, “No entiendo inglés.”

Forever kind of looks like the homophobic dog meme, actually, now that Roier thinks about it. Big eyes, endlessly judgmental, yellow. Honestly, Cellbit deserves better friends, ones that aren’t homophobia-coded or, like, stabby. (Roier knows firsthand how shitty it is to have a stabby best friend, and Cellbit deserves better. Much better.)

Unfortunately, Cellbit’s bigoted bestie decides it’s smart to clarify with, “You’re flirting with Cellbit.”

Which is a ridiculous assumption, actually, even if it is a true one. What’s a werewolf hunt and some pizza and shitty pornography got to do with romance?

“And you’re a werewolf,” Forever adds, this time in messy Spanish so as not to alert the entire OXXO to this most private of secrets.

Unfortunately for Forever, almost everybody there is Mexican, so he gets some stares for that one.

“I’m allowed to flirt with Cellbit,” Roier says. It’s easier to admit it in Spanish, partially because he’s pretty sure that Cellbit wouldn’t be able to understand him if he was somehow eavesdropping on their conversation. “It’s kinda my thing, man. I flirt with everyone.”

“Yeah, but you’re flirting with Cellbit,” Forever emphasizes, and Roier has to wonder why Cellbit’s bestie is this much better at Spanish than he is. “I don’t know if Richarlyson told you about this, but Cellbit is super weak to flirting. He’s gonna think you’re serious.”

Roier rolls his eyes and steps forward in line as the person in front of him steps up to the counter to check out.

“So what if he does?” he asks. He finds himself blushing, just a little, and that’s probably fine. He’s an emotional guy! There’s nothing wrong with that! It’s just that the mental image of Cellbit and him getting married had suddenly popped into his mind, and it’s a little embarrassing. That’s all.

“So, what, you’re gonna string him along just so you can do… whatever it is you’re using him to do?” Forever asks.

Okay, blush gone, now Roier is annoyed again.

He glares up at Forever. “I’m not using him. We have similar goals, that’s all.”

“You literally sound so suspicious right now.”

“You’re the one that tried stabbing him. That’s suspicious.”

Forever doesn’t seem to have a response to that. He shrugs as if saying ‘fair enough’, which is at least a little respectable.

“But,” Forever then says, “he also thinks you’re suspicious.”

“Good,” Roier says. He shrugs, uncaring, and he steps up to the counter to pay as the guy in front of him leaves. “I am suspicious. He’s just being smart.”

Forever doesn’t seem to have a response to that, either.

Roier finishes paying and turns to leave, but he pauses in the doorway when he hears Forever murmur, “God, they’re meant for each other.”

It’s true, but he didn’t have to say it like that.

“Homophobe!” Roier calls over his shoulder, leaving Forever sputtering behind him.

Hmph. Werewolves, they suck. Assholes, all of them.

#monster au fic

[blitheringmcgonagall]

You know what's absurd? I've seen people, a lot of them!, criticize Lily for breaking up that friendship. I try to be neutral about Snape and his fandom but it's hard.

I honestly don’t try to be neutral as you’ll know if you’ve read my fics 😬🤣! I’ve seen people criticise Lily for ending her friendship with Sneep too and I’m utterly baffled…

Like… what even… (lost for words)

I don’t even know where to start without offending anyone unintentionally but it’s like a person, a girl, from an oppressed minority being friends with a guy - this guy’s mum is also from this oppressed minority but his dad isn’t. And he can pass as not being from this group at all. He’s “best friends” with this girl.

But bro starts hanging out with dudes who are well known for being blatantly (insert racist/antisemitic/homophobic/transphobic/whatever bigoted/fascist group you want). These mates - everyone, literally the entire school - knows these guys are bad news/dangerous/vicious and everyone is aware they are planning on joining a right wing violent group bent on targeting the girl’s oppressed minority- by targeting I mean there’s a war on (which I forgot to mention) and this group is involved in terrorising/torturing and killing the girl’s minority.

At this stage you’re wondering why TF this girl is still friends with the guy, right? Yeah… well, he doesn’t act like that in front of her, girl refuses to believe the gossip (correct) about him - due to misplaced loyalty Bla Bla etc…

AnYwAy… girl sees posh knobs being cruel to bigoted fascist friend. Feeling (weirdly) sorry for him, she gives out hell to the two stupid pathetic arses who are bullying him. The posh knob who fancies her but isn’t a fascist wannabe killer guy rolls his eyes at her (girl, what?) and agrees to stop because he likes her.

This upsets fascist dude greatly because it, eh… upsets his masculinity/ fragile ego, so he reacts by lashing out against the reportedly (unrequited) love of his life. As you do, apparently…

So he calls her a nasty slur. Which tbh he’s been calling other members of her minority all the time, outside of her earshot, which is why it so easily “slips out” when emotions are high. Yeah. I know. She reacts as well as anyone could, and is a bit mean back to him. Shocker.

AnYwAy…

Fascist dude tries to apologise afterwards. “It’s okay, I know I say that about everyone else but not you, gurl, you’re different- I’m not bigoted, I’m friends with you, right?”

“No can do, bro,” she says. “ you’ve just revealed your true feelings for me. I’m an exception to the rule, you feel you own me and I’m yours and as long as I don’t step out of line that’s fine but you think I should consider myself lucky that you’re my friend despite my lesser background.”

And she’s finally faced with the real Sneep, the side he tries to hide from her, and decides “bro, I’ve made countless excuses for you over the years, but enough is enough, I can’t remain friends with you. It’s over.”

Now, apparently, according to some people, calling her a slur like that isn’t that bad, because people who are upset and humiliated sometimes say mean and hurtful stuff they don’t mean.

Eh, bollocks. If I am angry with my lesbian family member, the idea of calling her a homophobic slur has never entered my head. Not even remotely. I’ve been very upset with my friend who is from Sudan, has the idea of calling them a racist slur ever entered my head? Nope. Are you joking?

But you see, Sneep did have these thoughts about muggleborns, all the time. He not only thinks this but says it to people all the time.

Not only that, but one of his lovely friends attacked one of Lily’s classmates Mary McDonald with dark magic (Mulciber) and he thinks that’s fine, tries to minimise it saying it was a laugh. Hilarious.

So - as he admits himself - it just sort of slipped out, when his emotions were heightened and he wasn’t thinking straight and being careful hiding that side of himself from her. And the fact he says it as a reaction to feeling humiliated is a bad sign, a sign that he is misogynistic - even if JKR didn’t intend to write him that way, (makes sense if you’ve read my post on incels).

James Potter: "You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus -"Severus Snape: "I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"

Severus Snape: "I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just -"

Lily Evans: "Slipped out? It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends... you've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."

Lily Evans: “You call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?”

THE FACT IS THAT PEOPLE HATING ON LILY FOR ENDING HER FRIENDSHIP WITH SNAPE IS ALL BASED ON MISOGYNY.

For a really good article on this:

#I went off #Lily Evans #why she was right to end her friendship with Sneep #misogyny in the fandom #Lily Evans is my queen #loved that ask #thank you #people who criticise Lily for ending her friendship with Sneep don’t realise they are being misogynistic but they are #send more of these meta asks!

[lovewithasideoffries]

will's older sister coming out as gay

summary: it's basically in the title i guess?

pairings: will byers x sibling!fem!reader

warnings: one swear word, i think thats it

word count: 1070

y/n Notes: It is hinted that she's not attracted to males once, but could be read by anyone who's attracted to girlies (because same)

A/N: hope you enjoy!

Inspired by this ask!

“Will?” you knock lightly at his door, “can I come in?” You want to talk about what happened yesterday. 

When Will told you and Jonathan that he was spending his birthday with El and that Mike was flying in, the two of you were ecstatic. But then Mike showed up with flowers for El and nothing for Will, not to mention that both kids absolutely forgot about his birthday entirely, you’d decided to do something about it. 

“Sure,” he gives you permission, and you swing the door open. You see him sitting on his bed, looking out the window and fidgeting with the painting he’d worked so hard on for Mike, only to be too scared to show it to him. 

You take a seat next to him and place your hand over one of his. He looked at you. Here goes, it’s time to tell him. You knew it’d go fine, he was in love with Mike after all. But still, a part of you was scared he wouldn’t accept you. 

With Jonathan it had been different; the man had been far too high off his ass to even register what you were saying. But here, in the vulnerability of his room, you’re more both nervous and prepared at the same time. 

“I, uh, I wanted to talk to you,” you say, and when he gives you a hesitant, albeit confused, nod, you continue. “I’m not entirely sure how to say this in a not-awkward way, but… I know about you and Mike.” 

He freezes up. It’s not like he doesn’t want you to know, per se, it’s more that he’s scared that you know. What if you’re mad? What if you’re homophobic and you hate him now and you’re ready to ignore him for the rest of his life? Can you even do that? Would mom let you? You are an adult, after all. 

“Know… what, about me and Mike?” he asks, unconvincingly. He knows exactly what you’re talking about and you damn well know it. 

“Look, Will. I know you might be kind of… hesitant, to admit it out loud - and that’s perfectly fine. I just wanted you to know that,” you pause, are you really ready to do this? A deep breath: in, out. “I wanted you to know that you’re not alone.” 

A beat. “What?” his head whips toward you, shock apparent on his face. 

“I like girls,” you say, smiling sheepishly. Well, no going back now. 

All Will does is continue to stare at you in shock. You start to regret telling him. Maybe you were projecting onto him and Mike? Seeing what you wanted to see and not what was actually there. 

“Y’know, I expected more of a reaction. You’re acting kind of like Jonathan did, and he was high,” your lame attempt at a joke seems to do the trick. He snaps out of his comical reaction.

“Sorry, I’m just,” he searches for the right word, “processing. Does that mean all that time you told us that you didn’t want a boyfriend because you wanted to focus on school, was it really just because you don’t like boys?” 

“Partially,” you laugh lightly, “I did want to focus on academics. But also, yeah, ‘cause I don’t like boys.” 

“Does Mom know?”

“I never directly told her, but I’m pretty sure she does.”

“That means she probably knows about me too, huh,” he groans.

“Probably, but that’s not surprising. I’m pretty sure that Jonathan knows too,” 

He groans, holding his face in his hands. “Really?”

“Really. But don’t worry! He’s totally cool with it. And he won’t tell anyone - I also won’t tell, by the way,” you reassure him.

“Thanks,” his reply is muffled, his head still pressed into his palms.

“Okay c’mon, cheer up! I know yesterday was bad, but that doesn’t mean today will be!” In all honesty, yesterday was a lot more than bad for him; it was a shitty day from hell, but you refuse to swear in front of his little brother.

“Yeah whatever.”

You feel bad for him. Obviously he isn’t in the mood to talk about it. 

“I would've told you about it sooner, but I wasn’t sure if the girl I’m dating wanted anyone to know.” You can see him visibly perk up at the mention of a girl. Seems you changing subjects was a good idea after all.

“Who?” he asks excitedly, “Who’re you dating? Do I know her?”

“Maybeee,” you drag it out teasingly, “you ever met Robin Buckley?”

“Robin Buckley?” he repeats, “as in Steve’s friend, Robin? She’s gay?”

“Full on lesbian,” you smirk.

“Makes sense that she never got with Steve then, huh?”

“Steve’s not that attractive, Will, c’mon.”

“Not that attractive? Really? Just because you don’t like guys does not mean you can’t accept that some are attractive,” he rolls his eyes at you, a grin on his face.

“Tell that to Nancy,” you shoot back, referencing their previous relationship.

“Tell what to Nancy?” Jonathan peeks his head into the room.

“Nothing!” you and Will both chime. 

“Okay, well Mom’s about to go, so come down and say your goodbyes before she leaves.” Usually he’d probably care a bit more than you were talking about Nancy, but he and Argyle had definitely smoked some of their treasured Purple Palm Tree Delight before dinner.

“Alright we’ll be down in a sec,” you usher him out the room. When the door closes, you wrap an arm around Will’s shoulders. 

“You really okay? After everything that happened yesterday, I mean.” You just want to be sure, let him know he has a shoulder to cry on. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “it’s not what I expected, but it wasn’t terrible.”

“I’m really sorry that they forgot. I know that your birthday usually doesn’t mean too much to you, but it still would’ve been nice of them to remember.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter now. Besides, I like the stuff you guys got me.” You can tell he’s just trying not ro make you feel bad. You know just what will cheer him up.

“That reminds me, I have something for you!”

“But you already got me a gift,” Will points out.

“I know, but I have something else.”

“GUYS HURRY UP, I HAVE TO GET GOING!” Joyce calls from downstairs. 

“Right, let’s go!” you grab Will’s hand and the two of you rush downstairs.

#will byers #will byers x platonic!reader #will byers x sibling!reader #gay!reader #female!reader #lesbian!reaer #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things characters x reader #asks answered <3

[crimsun-n-clover]

dalia chronicles

i need her so bad dude

like. i don’t. i’m just being weird because i’m bored and she’s my type.

BUT—

i’ve hit rock fucking bottom. i took all the screenshots of her stuff and all the songs off of them and put them in a playlist. because if i was posting “me <3” to thee most obscure song ever?? i’d want people to go check that shit out. and like. understand me or whatever. but that’s what i would want. i’m being fucking weird about this. i think she’d like the attention but i’d actually rather die than give it to her in this dumbass unstable institutionalized way

i just need her to dm me first ONE TIME. not replying to me posting her stuff on my story. like. replying to literally anything else. to justify my behavior.

BECAUSE

HERES THE FUCKING T H I N G MAN

i took mickey to a concert a few days back. twas rad. we saw idkhow. i posted about it a little. when i get home and check my instagram?? i see that i posted us at the concert waiting for it to start 5 hours ago. and dalia posted a question submission box to an idkhow song. 5 hours ago.

WHAT ARE THE ODDS. she’s fucking with me. she’s SO fucking with me. just dm me for the love of GOD and stop baiting me with things. even though it’s kinda why im into you in the first place. fuckin whatever man.

this is literal torture but i’m kinda having a good time ngl

today she posted two stories to the song casual by chappell roan and holy. fuck. dude. that song is SO real.

i’ve felt used so much for my looks and reputation and i was fucking fine with it at the time because if that was all i was gonna get then i should just shut up and be grateful. i was so stupid but i was almost happy. it made everything hurt so much more when it was over because honestly? i was fucking bitter. i wanted nothing more than revenge and numbness. i wanted to hurt her back and keep her down before she can try that shit again. teach her a thing or two about what loss means. it’s horrible to be like that, i know. but it was horrible of her to be showing me apartment listings for us while talking to a guy who was actively homophobic toward me. i’m not proud of what i did or who i am, but fuck being the bigger person. i’m three fuckin inches tall and gonna get in your stupid double standard holding brain until you pry me out yourself and admit what you did.

anyway

dalia posted herself to that song twice in a thirst trappy way. i want to pick her brain so bad. what happened? are you okay?? you deserve better. you’re interesting and talented and deserve every ounce of attention you crave. i’d be happy to give you some if you’d give me permission. i don’t want to be the problem here. the bits of your personality that i’ve seen have been so intriguing to me. i’m enraptured and i want to know more. it’s not purely physical, but it could be if you want it to.

also. why are you so hot it’s not FAIR and how have the last two girls i’ve been dangerously into posted themselves with a star drawn on their collarbone and made my poor gay brain short circuit?? i’m actually in shock about that one ngl. while the lyric “knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out, is it casual now?” plays in the background. i hope i die

moving on. ish.

i want to save it but they’re videos and i can’t just paste videos into a notes file like i would with a photo i didn’t want laying around. i didn’t even like the more thirst trappy one because i’m RESPECTFUL. she’s so pretty and i want to drool over her a little. i’m obviously fucking ashamed but if a straight guy did it it would be normal so. whatever. i feel like saving it would be hitting some kind of barrier. dunno what it is but there’s gotta be a limit around here somewhere. or maybe it’s admitting something to myself. that this is a genuine interest but it’s not if i don’t save the video. GOD i hate it here

i feel like i’m objectifying her? like. i’d love for her to objectify me honestly. lick my fucking tongue and get it over with so i can think about it for the rest of my life. she seems to be looking for attention in any way she can get it and that makes me think she would be cool with it. but i don’t want to be that you know? i know how that feels. but i also wouldn’t mind something unserious with her. but i would want more if she wanted more. that’s a fucking LIE i’d want more regardless but i’d take more if i got permission.

i’m kinda sorta maybe the type of person with an avoidant attachment style. something good happens? cool! sounds like bullshit. cash out while i’m high and tuck tail n fucking bolt. i’ll feel like shit about it but if i stick around something bad always happens.

i’m getting. a vibe. that maybe she’s similar. i’m probably just projecting. i don’t know how to describe it, but it feels like everything she does is a wild fucking shot in the dark and then she runs off for a bit until she builds up the courage to do it again. she’ll drop a hint or say something important and then post art and her outfit for a week and do it all over again.

it feels like we’re both testing the water at different times. just “wouldn’t it be cool if. girlfriend? GOODBYE GUYS NICE KNOWING YOU” eventually there’s gonna be an intersection and shit is gonna go DOWN bro. like. added to my lore kind of down. but i think i’m gonna be the one to have to actually make the first move that isn’t liking her stories and i’m gonna blow my fucking brains out. and like five other people will die because of all the suicide pacts i’m a part of.

and then immediately after i get even a DROP of reciprocation i’ll go “damn that’s crazy. fuckin ditto or whatever. i’m leaving the country don’t wait up” OR immediately propose. no in between. i hate it here

[dragonmuse]

I have a homophobic flat tire and I’m mad about it, so I’m sending in this prompt: Izzy and Pete rescue Lucius from car trouble in the Iz/Pete/Luc timeline.

(Note: this particular flat tire is homophobic because I’m gay and my wife a and I got it last night on the way home from the Lil NAS X concert.)

(so the only issue with this is that Lucius doesn’t drive, so instead, here he is at the mercy of the public transit system instead, but there is a metaphorical homophobic flat tire at the root of things) 

Lucius: I’m going to be late. Like really late. May never make it home, actually. Remember me fondly.

Pete: what’s wrong? 

Lucius: the entire Blue line is seized up, something on the tracks and it’s cascading over to every other line. waited in the tunnel for an hour to get off.

Izzy: where are you? 

Lucius:  It’s fine. I’m emerging from the pit of despair. I’ll just walk it. 

Izzy: where are you? 

Lucius: seriously, no big. 

Pete: babe, he’s just going to keep asking 

Izzy: it’s pouring and freezing 

Lucius: I have an umbrella. 

Pete: the blue and white one? 

Lucius: yes

Pete: no you don’t. I’m looking at it in the coat closet right now. 

Lucius: I have two? 

Izzy:  Shuster or 11th? 

Lucius: 11th. 

Pete: go wait in that weird cafe, we’ll be there in fifteen. 

Lucius: I don’t need rescuing. 

Izzy: good, cause I'm fresh out of white horses. just get me a coffee then. Pay for your way. 

Lucius: fine. 

Izzy: fine. 

Pete: how is this an argument?  

Izzy didn’t bother finding parking, just pulled up in front of hydrant and got out his phone. 

“Don’t,” Pete sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I’ll get him. The two of you are fucking ridiculous.” 

“He won’t accept help,” Izzy gritted out. 

“Oh., because you’re so good at it,” Pete rolled his eyes, then leaned over to kiss Izzy on the cheek. “He’s used to being on his own. Be nice.” 

“No,” Izzy said sullenly, but his lips twitched when Pete laughed at him. 

He got out of the car and ran for the cafe door. Even with the blue and white umbrella, it was punishingly wet and cold. A few people were crowded under the awning, so he didn’t feel bad taking up his own sliver of space to close the umbrella, gather his thoughts for a second then head in. Lucius wasn’t hard to find, sitting at a small table, his hair still visibly damp and his sweater spattered darkly along the shoulders. 

He was clutching a cup of coffee, shoulders hunched, and had a drink holder in front of him with two more paper cups in him. His eyes were on the street, but he would’ve missed Izzy’s car, tucked as it was a few doors down. As Pete watched, he sniffed miserably, reached for his phone then dropped it again. 

Pete’s heart clenched and he stopped stalling. 

“Hey, babe,” he said cheerfully. Lucius’ shoulders came down fast, and he plastered on a smile. 

“Heya.” 

Pete put a hand on his back, “You didn’t actually have to get him coffee. He was joking, I think.” 

“No, I know,” Lucius smiled fractionally. “It’s fine. I figured we could all use something hot to drink. I got you decaf.” 

“Thanks,” he kissed his cheek. “C’mon, you look like you’re freezing.”

“It’s...not pleasant,” Lucius conceded. “I think my socks are mostly water now.”

“The worst,” he said sympathetically. “Izzy parked like an asshole, so we should probably go.” 

“He’s going to get ticketed one day and we’re going to hear about it for weeks.” 

“Are you kidding? He wouldn’t admit to it under the pain of death.” 

They got back to the car and Pete opened the back door for himself immediately, forcing Lucius to jog around and get into the passenger seat. Lucius handed Izzy his coffee with a tart, 

“Your majesty.” 

“Thanks,” Izzy took it and slipped it into the cup holder. “You okay?” 

“...no,” Lucius mumbled.  

“Okay,” Izzy sighed. “Let’s get you home.” 

Izzy’s place had slowly become home over the last few months though it was probably the first time any of them had put a word to it. It sank into the tension simmering in the car and skimmed the worst of it right off the top. 

“Please,” Lucius slumped.  

They didn’t talk, so Pete didn’t either. He watched the rain come down. Things were certainly less complicated when it had just been him and Izzy. But it also hadn’t been called ‘home’. He figured it was a good trade. 

When they got in the front door, Luicus started shedding damp clothes in the doorway, his socks making a sad ‘twump’ sound as they hit the floor. Izzy watched the puddle form underneath his feet and before Pete could cut off whatever comment about preserving the floorboards was coming, Izzy said, 

“How about you get in the shower and warm up?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Lucius frowned like he’d also been waiting for it and drifted off towards the bathroom. 

“Where was he this afternoon?” Izzy asked. 

“Uh...dunno, actually.” Pete frowned. “He doesn’t usually take the Blue line, does he?” 

“Don’t think so. And he usually wouldn’t give a shit if we came to get him. Hell, once he saw it was raining, he probably would’ve just called.” 

“He gets weird about us taking care of him,” Pete pointed out, sweeping up the undershirt Izzy had missed. “Figured it was just that.” 

“Sometimes,” Izzy agreed, but it was clearly still bothering him as he took everything over to the washer and put it in on a delay so it wouldn’t rob hot water from the now running shower. 

Pete concentrated on getting dinner started. It was leftovers, but he got rice on the go to pair with the stirfry while Izzy made a salad. They moved easily around each other in the small space and some of Pete’s worry dissipated under the tide of it. Lucius came out of the bathroom, went into the bedroom and shut the door. 

“Don’t love that,” Pete said quietly. 

“Me either,” Izzy sliced a tomato thin. “Could go in.” 

“Let’s give him a few.” 

Sure enough after ten or so minutes, Lucius re-emerged in pajama pants and an old worn t-shirt. He sat down heavily at the counter. Izzy slid him a glass of water and Lucius made a protesting noise, but did pick it up and sip.  

“You want to tell us what’s up?” Pete ventured.

Lucius scrubbed a hand over his face. “I forgot the umbrella was here. I thought I had it in my bag. I wasn’t lying.” 

“No one thought you were,” Pete said.  

“No?” 

“Would’ve gotten you even if you did have it,” Izzy put in. “So why would you lie about it?” 

"To prevent you coming to get me, obviously."

"Why?" Izzy set down the knife. "Seriously, why do you give a shit? One of us would've had the time and we don't actually like you being miserable."

"I had it. Fuck. What is the inquisition over?"

"What's this about?" Izzy pressed. "You're being...prickly."

"I am NOT."

They all let that sink in.

"Kind of are," Pete said gently. "Like just a wee bit."

Lucius dropped his gaze to the counter. “I maybe had a not great day.” 

“Tell us about it."

“I went to go see my mother,” he muttered. 

Ah. Izzy and Pete did not look at each other, but understanding vibrated between them anyway.  

“You didn’t mention it,” Pete leaned on the counter to face him. 

“It was last minute. She had some- it doesn’t matter,” Lucius laughed mirthlessly. “I know better. I have to plan the visits so I can get in and get out. I let her trap me and it was three hours of bullshit with her jackal friends. I left early, so she couldn’t drive me to the station and it started raining on the way there.”  

“That sucks,” Pete came around to pull him into a hug. Lucius slumped into it. “You know, one of us could go with you next time.” 

“You know that I-” 

“Pretty sure between Izzy’s spy experience and my acting skills one of us could just be your friend,” Pete cut him off. 

“I wasn’t a spy,” Izzy said. “But yeah, I think I could manage not to jump you in front of your mother.” 

“You could not manage to be quiet the whole time,” Lucius challenged.  

“I could,” Pete offered. “Really.” 

“Really?” Lucius raised his eyebrows. “If she said some deeply passive-aggressively shitty things to me, you’d just sit there and let me handle it?” 

“If that’s what you wanted,” Pete said staunchly. 

“He would,” Izzy nodded. “I’d eat her for lunch, but I bet Pete could do it. He’s better at internal screaming.” 

“Really?” Pete smiled at him. 

“Don’t let it go to your head.” 

“I’ll think about it,” Lucius conceded. 

Dinner was a happier affair after that. They talked about movies and finally put one on when the plates were cleared out. Pete fussed over the popcorn, mostly so he could watch as Izzy settled at Lucius’ feet, resting his head onto Lucius’ knee. They were talking quietly, the words lost over the distance. Whatever they said seemed to thaw out the last of the ice and Lucius’ hand went into Izzy’s hair.  

Pete sat down on the couch beside Lucius. They were pressed warmly to each other. Within a few minutes, Izzy reached across Luicus’ legs to circle his fingers around Pete’s ankle and gave a single squeeze before retreating again.

Maybe Lucius would let Pete come next time and maybe not, but he thought next time might be easier anyway, if he knew he’d come home to this.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #feels just like i'm falling for the first time

[thebumblecee]

I’m doing one word micro-fic prompts:

1. Aggressive:

The bar fight gets out of hand and Carlos will be the first to admit he could have reacted better to the situation. The second things turned he should have called for back up and tried to de-escalate but the homophobic jerk just riled him the wrong way.

So, Carlos pushed himself into the guy’s face shouting him down, letting his anger have this one for once, and it ended up making things worse. He got himself hit in the carnage, with the side of a bottle to his face, before he could dodge. Too distracted by his own ego.

Luckily, no one else was hurt. He got out of it with only a small cut from the bottle above his left eye. Not enough to scar but enough to cause a fair amount of blood to drip down the side of his face.

There’s going to be so much paperwork.

Back up did come and four or five patrons were hauled off in the back of patrol cars. Cursing and swearing. Leaving the staff to pick up strewn tables and chairs and broken glass.

He gets the nod to wait for medical even though he would rather go back to the station with them. He has statements to take from the others that are left behind. It makes sense for him to wait it out and do them.

The barman introduces himself as Jake, he was the one that called 911 in the first place, he takes him around the back of the bar.

He hands him a wad of triangle bandage from his shitty first aid kit and fusses with it looking for sterilising rub.

“That was really brave of you, to go up against that guy. I know you’re a cop but he must have been at least 6 foot 5. The dude was massive.” Jake says to him shyly. He looks at him through his lashes. “It’s good to know you’re brave and handsome.”

Carlos is no stranger to people fawning over the uniform. He’s a little taken aback at how openly Jake is flirting with him when he’s covered in blood and beer. Jake subtly shifts his body language so he’s standing with his hip cocked out and Carlos recognises the are you interested stance from his single days at bars like this.

He smiles politely at Jake. It’s the most ‘I’m not interested’ gesture he can muster and still be professional. “You don’t have to do this.” He says motioning to the first aid kit. He has a statement to take from him otherwise he would have left by now. “I can wait for medical, it’s not serious.”

Jake smiles at him again. “It’s okay, I know first-aid.” He reaches out to touch him but before it lands another, more pissed voice, adds to the scene.

“Well, his husband’s a paramedic. I think we have it.”

Carlos almost laughs at the role-reversal and TK’s bitchy tone. Jake throws TK a sour look and withdraws with his hands in the air. He mutters worth a shot under his breath.

“Well, that was aggressive.” Carlos teases as Jake retreats defeated.

“Yeah, well as a wise man once said: I like people knowing you’re mine.” TK replies without skipping a beat. He tilts Carlos’ face towards him.

“It’s fine really.” He says softly at the concern in TK’s eyes. “It’s not even bleeding anymore.”

TK makes a face at his nonchalant act. “I’ll be the judge of that, hero.”

He’s going to be in so much shit for this when he’s home. He can see it all over his husband’s face.

Like every night he can’t wait to come home to his husband.

—— —— ——

You can submit a prompt in my ask ❤️ t&c applies, I may not get around to it.

#Tarlos #microfic prompts #tk strand #Carlos Reyes #Lonestar fic #911 Lonestar fic #this is cliche I know

[piqued-curiosity]

#misogyny isn’t okay just because you don’t like somebody

but you have shielded the people that was about repeatedly.

Just soon back you were reblogging black pills and telling us, oh stupid bi women, stop getting "hung up on" being called dick worshipers, say you're identical to tims, and having your abuses discredited. Ohh fine you say, maybe she should use nicer words to say same things, but she is very right, listen to the things of real importance not your stupid little rape statistics or whatever. Of course she is not a misogynist no no, she is insightful and it is based that everyone reblogs those things. So you get annoyed at bis because they wont ignore misogyny and biphobia, you don't get annoyed at misogyny or your friends reblogging it. wau!

Then just now you get so angry bisexuals dare say we should not feel shame for any aspect of bisexuality. You pretend that post said "het relationships are oppressed by gay people" so you can move the straw man into the goal posts, but what it actually said was that bisexual people are degraded and internalize shame about OSA, even in het relationships. You ignore how first post was bisexuals telling other bisexuals, and literal example in next post was bi woman saying about herself. Yet you pretend its bisexuals forcing gay people to worship us. Reach.

Could not be that its about how people call us dick worshipers, degenerates, sex beasts without love, kink freaks without boundaries, that is bi womens fault if they get raped for being sluts, and even worse things? all that affects us, gets in our heads? But no of course saying those things is fine against a dick worshiper. Well for us is not fine, we feel pain that our fellow bisexuals internalize those things deep in their hearts and it makes them alone and afraid, only you can think that is evil and homophobic somehow. Hetero relationships are celebrated but that does not mean bisexuals or bisexuality are celebrated by heteros, the statistics on the abuse and everything prove that very much. But no of course you ignore any of that to tell us to go "touch grass" as if hetero world is peace for us. Then when the reality reveals itself and the heteros are - the gasping here! - homophobic, you are first in line to coddle the people that tell us we are playing victim and our rape and other abuse is not real compared to what homosexuals feel.

I do not think you are against misogyny, misogyny is fine against bisexuals you by how treat it. You are not getting angry at misogyny you are getting more angry at bisexuals for not putting up with it. What you are against is seeming of misogyny and only just barely.

Oh my fucking god here we go again.

I apologised. I admitted I was wrong. I meant it. And yet you still come at me like this. Honestly you’re just making it clear that I’ll never be good enough for you. If you have such an issue with me and with accepting that I’m both a human and a learning feminist meaning I will make mistakes, just block me.

This whole time I’ve disagreed with language like “dick worshippers”. I’ve made that clear and I don’t know how many times I have to do so for you to stop pretending I haven’t. And even if I was once out there yelling misogynistic language at bi women (which I was not), me reblogging the post speaking against it should make you think “good, she’s changed”, not “ooo let me tell her off for reblogging a post about the issue I want her to address”???? Talk about not leaving room for growth.

The post you’re referring to…I EXPLICITLY STATED I DISAGREED WITH WHAT YOU ARE MENTIONING. Because I am able to read a text critically, I took the good bits which were the criticism of lesbophobia from bi women (and tbh I think you probably take issue with this too, because how dare we talk about anything other than uwu wlw solidarity), and acknowledged it wasn’t perfect. One of the first things I pointed out in my reblog was that I disagreed with saying bi women and TIMs were the same, so you acting like I agree with that is either you ignoring what I said, or being intentionally obtuse.

I agree bisexuals shouldn’t feel any shame for being bisexual. I also agree that a lot of bisexuals get hilariously pissy when gay people don’t give a shit about their OSA and opposite sex relationships. Tbh I’m actually not sure what specific post you’re talking about here because just tonight I’ve seen so many posts where OSA people cry about their het relationships not being seen as “queer” or “gay enough” or some shit. But look, I don’t believe anyone can truly feel shame regarding OSA, because the whole fucking world celebrates and encourages OSA. And I don’t think any homosexual needs to give even an ounce of compassion to OSA people crying to us about how much they don’t like being OSA, because we’re too busy focusing on the victims of homophobia (before you get angrier with me, I’m talking about both gay and bi victims of homophobia).

If you want to talk about the negative stereotypes about bisexuals, or the degrading language used to discuss specifically bisexual women, then talk about that! I’ll support you! But you can do that without making it about how it’s so so hard to be OSA. Idk maybe you’re talking about some post I’ve forgotten about that I misinterpreted and it really is talking about everything you’re saying and isn’t pulling the “gay people make it so hard to be OSA” card, because I’ve seen a bunch of those posts on my dash recently so they’re fresh in my mind and are what I’m thinking of while responding to this. So just know if that’s the case idk what post you’re talking about, and I’m strictly talking about the kweers who cry about people thinking their m/f relationships are straight, and being upset that gay people don’t want to hear about their OSA.

I know in my heart that I’m against misogyny, you can think what you want of me. But in my humble opinion, I think you have a very black and white perception of me that doesn’t allow for realising mistakes and growing from them.

#you caught me on my period :) #imagine being upset that I reblogged something you agree with lmaooo #go take the issue up with the people actually being misogynistic already #stop coming to me and expecting me to grovel #asks #anon

[flosbelova]

I’ll Always Protect You

florence pugh x fem!reader

warnings: mention of death threats.

word count: 1.7k

summary: you and florence had been dating for a while. when she posts you on her Instagram, you receive a bunch of hate comments and florence defends you and your relationship.

request from @the-loving-quotes​

Dating Florence Pugh has been one of the greatest decisions you have ever made in your life. You both have managed to keep your relationship lowkey until she randomly posts you on her Instagram. It was a photo of you looking at this mountain view at sunset from the balcony. She captioned it “My happy place.” 

Your heart started to race as soon as you saw a photo of yourself on her Instagram-- and the fact that she tagged you almost made you pass out.

You looked through her comments and let’s just say most of it wasn't what you would have expected. Some were positive-- for example, there were comments that read:

“OH MY GOSH IT CONFIRMED! I'M SO HAPPY”

“I’m so proud of you <3”

“You guys are the absolute cutest!”

Then, there were comments that weren’t so positive. It was a mixture of homophobic comments and comments that said “Florence deserves better.”

Of course, they hurt, but you didn’t mind at first and chose to focus on the more positive comments. 

-

A couple days pass and you also decide to post Florence on your Instagram. As you hit “post,” your phone instantly started buzzing with notifications. Again, the comments were all a mixture of the positives and the negatives. However, you wanted to focus on the positive side and ignored the comments.

-

You posted Florence on your Instagram story, and you received a lot of DM’s. Although you don’t open your DM’s, you decided to check just for the hell of it. As soon as you swiped to your message requests, you instantly regretted swiping. 

“Kill yourself. You don’t deserve Florence.”

Tears started to well up in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away when you heard Florence come into the living room.

“Dinner’s ready, darling,” she says, holding a wooden spoon.

“Hm? Oh, right. I’ll be there in a sec,” you respond.

“Is everything alright, love?” she walks towards you with a concerned look on her face.

You take a deep breath. “Yes, everything’s fine.” You clench your jaw hoping Florence would drop the subject.

She pouts and looks at you with worry. Florence knows every little detail about you. She knows that nothing is ever “fine,” when it follows with you clenching your jaw. However, Florence doesn’t like to overstep on your boundaries, so she drops the subject and figures she’ll ask you later. 

“Alright, love. C’mon, let's eat. I’ve made your favorite,” she says, giving you a soft smile.

-

You loved Florence’s cooking and you always made sure to compliment her dishes whenever she cooked. However, tonight was quiet. The two of you sat in silence, quietly eating your dinner. 

You were grateful that Florence knew to get off your back whenever you were in a mood. That’s one of the things that you appreciated most about her, her ability to understand your emotions and how you cope with them. 

You knew that she would eventually ask you what happened as you have both communicated that suffering in silence wasn’t healthy.

You finished dinner early and asked yourself to be excused. You headed to bed as soon as you finished your meal. Florence stayed in the kitchen to tidy up and to give you some more space.

-

Laying on your side, you couldn’t help but to grab your phone and scroll through your notifications. As hurt as you were already, you were too stubborn to gain some self-control. As terrible as that message was, your comment section got even worse. Not only was it filled with homophobic comments, but you were also getting sent death threats. You had checked Florence’s account and pressed on your photo. You noticed that she turned off the comments.

You felt the bed behind you dip as an arm wrapped around your torso.

“Hi,” Florence whispers, and she rests her chin on your shoulder.

“Hi,” you weakly respond. You sigh as you turn your phone off and place it on the bedside table. You turn around in Florence’s arm and face her.

Florence gave you a worried smile and she wiped the tears on your face. You were so busy scrolling through the hate comments that you hadn’t noticed that tears were falling from your eyes.

“Oh, my love.” Florence places a gentle kiss on your forehead. She then looks at you with worry in her eyes. Florence couldn’t imagine what was going through your mind.

“I know you saw the comments,” she begins, “I saw them too. As soon as I saw the hate comments, I immediately turned them off.”

You sniffled and took a deep breath. “I got death threats,” you say, your voice breaking.

“What?” Florence says, appalled. Florence could feel her heart race and feel herself be filled with rage.

“That’s it, I’m making a post, this is unbelievable,” Florence says getting up to get her phone.

“No, please, you don’t have to,” you plead, “it’ll only make things worse.”

“No it won’t, Y/n, I promise you,” Florence says, already typing in her notes.

“You can’t promise me something that you have no control over,” you say coldly.

Florence pauses. She looks over at you, takes a deep breath and pouts. She stares at you for a while, studying your face. Florence is the type of person to defend the people she loves and doesn’t care if it will give her a bad rep. You just so happen to be one of the people that Florence loves, and she will do whatever it takes to defend you and her love for you.

“It doesn’t matter, what matters is that someone I love is being sent death threats, so please, let me say something,” she says, reaching for your hand.

“I really don’t deserve you,” you sigh.

“You do Y/n, you deserve every bit of me as much as I deserve every bit of you,” Florence says, caressing your cheek. 

-

A few days passed and Florence posted a video on her Instagram regarding the hate you had been receiving. 

“To my “fans,” who have sent a tremendous amount of hate to my girlfriend, Y/n, kindly unfollow me. I do not need your negativity towards my relationship with her. The hate you throw at her is hate you throw at me. The death threats you throw at her, are also death threats you throw at me. It is not your place to tell me who I should and should not love, nor is it any of your business. I do not appreciate the comments you have thrown at her. She does not deserve it, and nor do I. I am happy with Y/n. She makes me a better person. So please, leave my relationship alone and stop sending my girlfriend death threats. I will not ask again.”

After watching the video, you were in shock. Even if you had talked about it a couple days prior, you still didn’t expect that she would actually post it. Florence kept the comments on and fortunately, it was filled with massive support from other celebrities. You were grateful.

-

Florence had an interview with Jimmy Kimmel this week to discuss her recent and future projects. Of course, her video regarding your relationship was a topic of discussion. You stayed backstage and watched Florence’s interview from her dressing room.

“Okay, I think everyone here has seen the video that you had recently posted regarding your relationship,” Jimmy says.

“Yeah, I hope so,” Florence chuckles nervously.

“So tell me, if you’re comfortable, why you had said what you needed to say?” he asks.

“Did you watch the video?” Florence says sarcastically, earning a couple laughs from the crowd. “Um, I figured that I needed to. I mean my girlfriend was getting sent death threats for no apparent reason and it needed to stop.” This earned Florence a clap from the audience.

“That’s fair. God, the internet is so toxic, isn’t it?” Jimmy complains.

“Yeah,” Florence agreed. “Y/n and I had been dating for a while now and we’d managed to keep it lowkey. I just thought that when I’d finally posted her that I wouldn’t receive such horrid comments. Which is why I felt the need to address this because I hate seeing the people I love get hurt.”

A couple people from the crowd “Awwed”

“So, tell me what it is about Y/n that just makes you so in love with her?” Jimmy asked curiously.

Florence smiled as she thought about the things that she loved most about you. “Her smile was something that caught my eyes right off the bat. She has such a kind smile and I would do everything just to keep her smiling.”

The crowd “Awwed” again.

“Also, Y/n is so loving. She won’t admit it because she likes to be that “tough” person on the outside, but inside she’s a big softie. She gives the best cuddles. I also love how she makes me tea every time I come home from filming.”

“Aww, that must be nice. I think we all need a Y/n in our life, right?” Jimmy says.

The camera pans to the crowd who was cheering and nodding their heads.

“Well, too bad, Y/n is only one person and I’m the lucky girl who has her,” Florence says wittily. 

The crowd laughed and clapped.

“Alright, well it was lovely having you, Florence,” Jimmy says, shaking Florence’s hand. “And that’s all for tonight, we’ll see you tomorrow!”

-

On the ride home, you rested your head on Florence’s shoulders.

“You really had to call me out, didn’t you?” you ask.

“Yeah, maybe just a little,” Florence says, making a gesture.

You chuckle and look at her. “Did I ever tell you that you are the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid my eyes on?”

“Yes, Y/n, you tell me everyday,” she says, grabbing your cheek.

You smile and close the gap between you. Florence melts into the kiss and moves her hand to the back of your head, running her hands through your hair. You pull away to catch some air and Florence rests her forehead against yours.

“I love you, Flo. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you too Y/n. and don’t thank me, you know I’ll always protect you.”

The End

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh imagine #florence pugh fanfic #yelena belova #fan fiction #wlw

[fruitcoops]

hi eve! what do you think about a video where couples do the chapstick challenge? like jily vs coops and they compete to see what couple guesses more right! idk i think i would be fun

It's been too long since I wrote one of these--I missed them! Coops, Cubs, and SW Jily belong to @lumosinlove <3

“Welcome back, everyone!” Dorcas said with a smile to the camera. “It’s been over a month since our last big video like this due to scheduling, but we hope you’ve been enjoying our more active social media presence in the meantime. I’m here today with James and Lily Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and our lovely Cubs. How were your summers, everyone?”

“Hear that, Cap?” Logan’s grin was smug as the cat that got the canary. “I’m lovely.”

“Our summers were great,” Sirius said, ignoring him. “Lots of vacation time.”

“At our house,” Lily teased.

“Yeah, while you were on vacation. It’s called being a good godfather.”

“I’m glad you all had fun,” Dorcas interjected smoothly as she pulled three bags from under her chair. “Because we’ve got a very special game today. Inside these bags are ten blank chapstick tubes, each with a different flavor. One person from each team will apply the chapstick to their lips, and their partner will first have to kiss them, then guess the flavor. Finn, Leo, and Logan, your team will have two guessers.”

“They get two guesses?” Remus protested. “That’s so unfair!”

Dorcas shrugged. “They have to guess at the same time, and they only get one point per correct answer.”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “Y’know, Loops, you’re starting to sound pretty homophobic over there…”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Remus sighed.

The camera cut; when it returned, Lily, Sirius, and Finn were seated in folding chairs with the bags of chapstick in their laps and a small sticky note in their hands. Across from them, their significant others were sitting with large headphones over their ears.

“Can you hear me?” Dorcas called.

Remus didn’t react at all as he messed with the trailing wire; Logan squinted at her. “Quoi?”

“I can’t hear anything,” James said loudly. “This is super weird. It’s just, like, humming. Honey, it sounds like Harry’s white noise machine!”

Lily smiled reassuringly and patted his hand. “A little quieter, lover.”

“What?”

“A little—nevermind.”

Dorcas’ mouth twitched with a suppressed smile. “Non-guessers, you can find all the flavors written on stickers at the bottom of each tube. Please start with number one on your flavor lists when you’re ready.”

Sirius bit his lip as he riffled through the bag, and Remus leaned forward to give him a light peck at the corner of his mouth. “I haven’t put any on yet!” he laughed.

Remus paused. “What?”

“I haven’t put any chapstick on.”

“Slower, I’m not good at lipreading.”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered with a shake of his head.

Next to him, Finn had already applied his first flavor and was sitting with a happy smile as Leo and Logan thought for a moment. “Is it lime?’ Leo guessed.

“I think it’s lime,” Logan said half a second later. Finn gave them a thumbs-up and the three of them high-fived. “Called it!”

“That’s…lemon? Really sour lemon?” James guessed. Lily shook her head and showed him the tube. “Lime. Shit.”

Remus licked his lips. “Lime?”

Sirius nodded. “Oui!”

“Really? Hell yeah!”

“We’re at a bit of an advantage,” Sirius said as he put the lime in his lap and checked his list. “I wear chapstick all the time.”

“Why?” Dorcas asked, sounding rather amused.

“My lips get dry from being at the rink all day.” Sirius shrugged and put the next one on. A mischievous smile flickered over his mouth and he tilted his chin toward Remus. “He won’t leave me alone, either.”

Remus’ eyebrows pitched and he leaned forward. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You have to go slower, I really can’t—”

“Green apple!” Logan exclaimed, slapping Finn’s knee in excitement as Dorcas covered her mouth to hide her laughter. “I remembered what it’s called!”

“Correct!” Finn announced.

“I think it’s green apple,” Leo said.

James pulled away and rested his chin on his hand. “Kind of a caramel apple, but without the caramel.” Lily turned to face the camera with a look of disbelief. “So just a normal apple, I guess.”

“Yes!” Lily turned his face toward her with a smile. “You got it!”

“I got it? Woohoo!”

“That’s green apple.” Remus wrinkled his nose. “Tastes like those shitty candy apple lollipops, though. Did I get it?”

Sirius nodded and wiped his lips off. “Number three is pomegranate,” Dorcas announced.

Finn frowned as he dug through his bag. “I don’t—there it is. Wow, this smells really nice.”

Leo paused and smiled before kissing him. “That smells really nice!”

“Does it?” Finn laughed before moving to give Logan a kiss.

“Oh, I like that,” Remus said, kissing Sirius a second time. “No idea what the flavor is, but I like it. Hmm. I have to think about that.”

“Is that frosting?” James asked excitedly as he grabbed Lily’s hands. “Do you have frosting flavored chapstick?”

“No,” she laughed, shaking her head. “What the hell? It’s pomegranate.”

“It’s what?”

“Pomegranate.”

“Persimmon?” She rolled her eyes and showed him the sticker. “Wow, I never would have guessed that.”

“Is it cherry?” Remus guessed. Sirius shook his head and his face fell. “Aw.”

Leo and Logan shared a look as Finn kept his poker face. “I have no idea what that is,” Logan finally said. “It’s sweet, though.”

“Is candy-flavored chapstick a thing?” Leo wondered. Finn held the tube up. “Pomegranates are tart. That wasn’t tart.”

“What the hell is that?” Logan looked to someone off-screen and held one of his headphones away from his ear.

“Une grenade!” someone called.

“Oh! That didn’t taste like it at all.”

All four guessers kissed their partners within a few seconds for the fourth—almost immediately, they pulled away, faces twisting. “Oh my god,” Remus coughed, wiping his lips. “That’s grape. Oh my god.”

James’ nose scrunched. “It’s grape. I don’t like it.”

In a moment of direct action, Leo took the wet wipe Finn had been using and ran it over his mouth while Logan stuck his tongue out. “It’s grape, and it’s gross. No more cough syrup kisses, please.”

“You’re halfway there!” Dorcas called, chalking up their correct guesses on a whiteboard as Lily, Sirius, and Finn applied the fifth flavor.

Sirius held his hand up as Remus started moving in and sneezed. “Desolee. Okay, you can go now.”

Remus kissed him and recoiled in half a second. “More cough syrup? Are you kidding me? It’s not any better when it’s cherry.”

“Dorcas,” Leo whined when he pulled away. “The first ones were such nice flavors!”

“My head hurts just tasting that,” James said miserably. “It’s that awful fake cherry stuff.”

“That’s cherry.” Logan smacked his lips with a grimace. “Eugh.”

Dorcas held up five fingers for them to see as she spoke. “Just five more, and you’re all done. Those are the only bad ones.”

Lily lit up as she applied the sixth and James hurried to kiss her. “Oh, that one is nice! You always wear strawberry. It’s my favorite.”

Remus shrugged. “Kiss was great, flavor’s fine. It’s just fake strawberry, yeah?”

“Whew.” Leo’s eyebrows rose after the kiss. “Very st—”

“Oh, strawberry!” Logan interrupted. “Katie makes me wear something like that when we have tea parties.”

Dorcas added more tallies to her board. “Tremzy, you can’t hear me, but that’s the cutest thing you’ve ever said. We need pictures.”

“I’ll find some,” Finn promised.

Sirius rubbed his lips together and made a face; Remus laughed, running the pad of his thumb along his mouth. “Stop, I can’t kiss you like that! It can’t be that bad.”

“That would give me a headache,” James said, clearly disappointed. “It’s some sort of pineapple monstrosity. Pina colada? I liked the strawberry a lot better.”

“It’s pineapple. Does that count?” Lily asked. Dorcas nodded, and she gave James a high-five.

“That’s not bad,” Leo admitted with a shrug. “Tastes like the dried mango we get at the store, the kind with all the sugar on it.”

“I don’t have the first idea what that is,” Logan said. “Knutty, I’m letting you take the reins here.”

“You’re both wrong,” Finn said, enunciating every word so they could read his lips.

“Baby—” Remus faltered with a laugh and held the wet wipes out of reach as Sirius tried to take them back. “Baby, we don’t get a point if you wipe it off. Just one kiss, okay?”

“Fine,” Sirius grumbled. Remus pressed a sweet kiss to his upper lip and handed him a fresh wet wipe. “Happy now?”

“Oh, I like that,” Remus said. “It’s definitely pineapple. I can see why you hated it so much.”

“Cap, do you not like pineapple?” Dorcas asked. His intense wiping of his lips was the only answer necessary. “We’re in the final three. Sirius, your team is in the lead by one.”

“Come on, hubs,” Lily said as she put the next one on. “This is easy-peasy. We have to beat Cap or we’ll never hear the—”

“Mint!” Leo exclaimed, looking quite proud of himself. “Ooo, it’s like Christmas.”

“I can smell it all the way over here,” Remus laughed, though he didn’t pass up the kiss. “That’s peppermint.”

“It’s like a candy cane,” James said dreamily.

“He’s not going to like this one,” Sirius said as he capped the next chapstick. “I like it, though, and that’s all that matters. Pucker up, Loops.”

“Oh, hell no.” Remus leaned back as Sirius leaned in, keeping his lips out of range. “Nope, not a chance. That’s some plastic vanilla bullshit and I’ll be tasting it all day.”

Dorcas tapped him on the shoulder and he lifted one headphone. “If you don’t taste it, you don’t get a point this round.”

“We can take the hit.”

“What? No!” Sirius protested. “I had to taste the pineapple, remember?”

“I love you and I totally want to win this, but I really, really don’t want that taste in my mouth.”

“Fine,” Sirius sighed, wiping his lips off as Remus readjusted his headphones.

James’ face split into a beaming smile after his kiss. “Birthday cake!”

“No.”

“Shit.”

“Vanilla,” Leo and Logan said in unison.

Finn pumped both fists in the air. “Yes! We’re tied for first!”

Leo gave him a high-five. “I don’t know what you’re saying, but you seem excited about it!”

“Last one,” Dorcas warned. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“You should wear chapstick more often,” James said as Lily lined her lips. “It makes you so soft.”

“He has no idea how greasy my mouth feels right now,” she said fondly with a glance to the camera.

“Tell me about it,” Sirius agreed. “Alright, Loops, don’t pussy out this time.”

Remus narrowed his eyes. “You just told me not to pussy out, didn’t you?”

Sirius blinked at him. “I thought you couldn’t read lips.”

“C’mere.” Remus cupped his jaw in one hand and kissed him, then smiled. “Orange. Did we win?”

“Mmm, that’s what the oranges back home taste like,” Leo said, going in for a second kiss.

Logan licked his lips a couple of times. “Tastes like fancy orange juice. I like it.”

“In a cruel twist of irony, my lips are getting dry,” James said when they parted. Lily raised her eyebrows as he thought. “That’s orange. We won, right?”

“Take off your headphones,” Dorcas said, miming the motion until everyone could hear her before holding her scoreboard up. “Unfortunately, James and Lily are in last place with a score of seven out of ten. Cap and Harzy, your teams are tied for first place with eight out of ten.”

“We could have won if you didn’t have a personal grudge against vanilla,” Sirius said under his breath. Remus threw one of the chapsticks at him and Sirius dropped another down the neck of his shirt.

“Boys.” They both gave Dorcas a sheepish look and she shook her head. “Thankfully, we prepared for this situation with a tiebreaker. Nobody but me knows the flavor, and it is not written on a sticker. Remus, Leo, and Logan, you will not have to put your headphones on again, but you will have to correctly identify both flavors to get their point. You will write your answers on these whiteboards. You only get one kiss to determine your guess. On your marks, get set, go!”

Sirius swiped a decent amount over his lower lip and pulled Remus in with his hands on his cheeks; Finn practically used half the stick covering his mouth before collecting his kisses. “That’s interesting,” Leo murmured, tapping his dry-erase pen on his thigh. “That’s very interesting.”

Remus jotted down an answer and leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied smile. “You know it?” Sirius asked with a grin.

“I do.”

“Is that your final guess?’ Dorcas checked. He nodded, and she took his pen. “Leo, Logan, do you have a guess as well?”

“I think I know one of the flavors,” Leo said cautiously, bending over to whisper it in Logan’s ear. He hummed in agreement, then whispered back.

“This is so intense,” James murmured, looking between the two teams as Lily perched herself on his lap. “I feel like I’m watching the Olympics.”

“If we get one of the flavors right and Loops gets both wrong, do we win?” Logan asked as Leo wrote their answer down.

Dorcas thought for a moment. “Yeah, sure. But only if Remus gets it completely wrong.”

“What’s the prize?”

“You already get to kiss your partners all afternoon instead of running drills. What more do you want?”

“Amen,” Remus agreed.

“Alright.” Leo handed over the whiteboard pen, though he looked nervous.

“Would you like to go first?” Dorcas offered.

“Coconut and lemon?”

“That is incorrect.”

“Ah, fuck me,” Logan muttered. “Loops, you’d better be wrong.”

Remus’ smile was even more pleased as Dorcas turned to him. “Remus, do you know what it is?”

“Well, Ms. Meadowes, I’m glad you asked. That’s Burt’s Bees honey and coconut.” He flipped the board with a flourish. “And it just so happens that my boyfriend bought that exact chapstick at the store last week and has worn it every single day since then.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Leo looked between them in shock as Logan’s jaw dropped. Finn buried his face in his hands. “Of every flavor on earth—”

“I promise it was not intentional,” Dorcas said, though she was laughing a little. “I literally rolled dice to pick it while I was looking at the website.”

Sirius looked to the ceiling as he pulled Remus’ chair closer. “Thank you, universe, for my terrible impulsive habits in the self-checkout line.”

Dorcas turned to the camera with a dimpled smile and spread her hands. “Thank you for joining us for the chapstick challenge, Lions! You can find all these flavors at the link in the description. Like and subscribe for more videos like this, have a great day!”

#remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #lily potter #leo knut #finn ohara #logan tremblay #coops #oknutzy #jily #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #lion pride #social media #chapstick challenge

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Pride

Dear nonnie who requested that I write something for Pride month, I'm so, so sorry! Somehow this got lost in my inbox and I didn't see it until I started working on 'Bargain' this afternoon. Please accept this humble ficlet and my deepest apologies. <3

I'm kind of nervous about this one. I know coming out is a deeply personal experience and I'm not sure I wrote it terribly well. Please know that you are loved, valued, cherished, and accepted just as you are. I know for many people the struggle is so much greater than what I wrote in this ficlet. You are all amazing. <3

cw: Internalized homophobia, homophobic parents (happy ending)

------------

June 12, 1999

"Hey!" Harry said, bursting into Draco's room like it was his own.

Draco looked up from the essay he was writing, the last one he needed to finish for his eighth year at Hogwarts. "Hi," he replied and he couldn't help but admire the dimple that stood out on Harry's cheek as he smiled at him.

"Some of us are heading down to Hogsmeade for the pride celebration they're having there tonight," Harry said. "Did you want to come?"

His brow furrowed, "Pride? Like house pride?"

Harry laughed but not unkindly like it would have been prior to this year, "No, like gay pride. It's to celebrate people who are lgbtq+, to affirm their dignity and worth as human beings, you know?"

Draco felt his cheeks flushing hot, "I'm not," he managed through the way it felt like someone had closed off his airway, shaking his head, "I'm not gay!"

"Err," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck, "Right, I wasn't trying to imply anything. Just," he shrugged, "I think I'm bi, and there's GInny and Luna," he continued, stumbling over his words.

"But I'm not!" he protested

"Right," Harry repeated, brow furrowing, "We just thought..." he trailed off, "Ron, who's like as straight as they come is coming too, to show his support."

"I can't," Draco said. "I've got all this work to do, I just-"

"It's okay," Harry said, shaking his head and holding out a hand, "Totally fine, sorry to have bothered you," he added as he quickly fled the room before Draco could say anything else.

(Continue reading below the cut)

He stared after him, still feeling panicked and full of regret at the same time.

Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

And in spite of the fact that he'd told Harry he needed to finish his essay, he spent the rest of the night trying to get his heart to slow down, his breathing to come easier, and his mind to stop spinning.

The essay remained untouched.

------------

June 9, 2000

Draco was having murderous thoughts.

They had a tradition on Fridays that everyone who lived in Grimmauld sat down together for dinner and if you were dating someone, you were allowed to bring them home with you for dinner. Draco never brought anyone home because the women he dated were so unattractive to him that he just couldn't bring himself to see them for more than a date or two.

Harry, on the other hand was always bringing someone home. He had men and women there with him every week. Usually, it was a different person every week and that didn't bother Draco all that much. But he'd been seeing Conor for six weeks now and the way the other man was always clinging to Harry, always laughing and batting his eyelashes at him; it made Draco feel ready to kill him.

"So I was thinking," Harry said when there was a lull in the conversation, "The Leaky is having a Pride Night celebration tomorrow. Maybe we should all go together?" he asked hopefully.

There were murmurs of approval all around the table and Draco dropped his gaze to his plate, his palms started to itch. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

"What about you, Draco?" Conor asked, all toothy smiles as he rested his arm around Harry's shoulders.

He couldn't help but look over at Harry who was suddenly watching him in that way that made him feel like he was being held under a magnifying glass. People thought that Harry was oblivious but Draco knew they were wrong. Harry knew everything about Draco just from watching him.

Draco swallowed, "Yeah," he managed. "Yeah. I can come for a bit."

Harry smiled at him then, soft and sweet, his dimples showing, "Yeah?" he asked.

And Draco was fairly certain there was nothing he could have said no to when Harry asked like that, so he nodded.

"Great!" Conor enthused and the moment dissipated like fog in the sun. "It'll be so fun to have all of your friends there, babe."

"Err," Harry said, looking over at Conor, "Yeah. Totally." Then he turned back to look at Draco once more, "Yeah," he said again.

-----------

June 10, 2000

Draco had made a mistake.

Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

"Hey!" Harry said, appearing out of nowhere and wrapping an arm around Draco, "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," he lied.

"Come on," Harry said, "Let me introduce you to some people."

Draco spent the next hour meeting all sorts of people, he listened to people telling their stories, people who were claiming their own lives and destinies, and all he could feel was loss.

Every person he listened to felt like another stone tied around his neck, their joy and freedom made him feel even more trapped. Harry went to fetch drinks as he listened to a trans woman named Jocelyn talking about how difficult it had been to come out to her family. And it was the final straw, he lost it. Tears slipped from his eyes and before he could do anything, she was hugging him, "We've all been where you are," she whispered.

He shook his head and pulled back, "I'm not-" he covered his mouth, he couldn't quite force out the lie.

She nodded knowingly, "We've all been there, too."

"I've got to go," he managed, rising on shaking legs and making his way out of the bar as quickly as he could.

When he got outside he bent over, resting his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

"Draco!" he heard as the door opened and he wasn't ready for this.

"Don't," he said, standing up and holding out his hands to stop Harry from coming any closer.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern and Draco hated it.

"Malfoys aren't gay!" he exploded.

"What?" Harry asked as though his words hadn't been perfectly clear.

"Malfoys aren't gay," he repeated.

Harry tilted his head at him, "Alright."

"So you can stop this," he said, gesturing at the door. "I don't need help coming out. I'm not gay," he spat.

"I'm not trying to help you come out," Harry said, his voice measured and calm in a way that told Draco just how hard he was working at not getting emotional. "I just wanted to introduce you to-"

"Bull shit," he hissed. "Every person you 'introduced me to' told me about coming out."

"It's Pride, Draco. They're," he stopped and corrected himself, "We're celebrating coming out. We're celebrating not hiding who we are anymore. If you think it's about you, well," he shrugged a shoulder, "You probably have more in common with us than you want to admit."

"I'm not gay!" he shouted, shoving Harry away from him.

There was a flash of hurt across Harry's face before he put his hands on his hips and that fire that Draco so remembered from Hogwarts filled his eyes. "No one said you were!" Harry shouted back. "And if you were so afraid of having people think you are, why did you even come in the first place?"

"I guess I shouldn't have."

Harry took a step back away from him, shaking his head, "I guess not." He turned on his heel and stalked back into the bar, leaving Draco standing on the sidewalk, shaking as the adrenaline flooded through him.

-------------

June 11, 2000

It wasn't quite morning when Draco heard a soft knock at his door.

With no small amount of effort, he reached for his wand and cast a spell to open it. Harry was standing in the doorway and Draco huffed, "I've already packed," he said. "I'll leave in the morning."

"What?" Harry asked, sounding panicked, "No!" he said, stepping across the threshold of Draco's room and moving to the chair across from Draco's bed. "No," he repeated. "Draco, please don't leave. I'm sorry. Alright?" Harry said. "I shouldn't-"

"You're sorry?" Draco asked, sitting up and staring at the other boy, "No, I'm sorry," he said, quickly. "I was awful and I didn't le-"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, "It's my fault. I shouldn't-"

"I'm gay," Draco blurted and then realized what he'd just admitted. He covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes filled with tears.

"Hey," Harry whispered, climbing onto the bed next to him and pulling Draco into his arms, "It's okay."

Draco shook his head but couldn't manage any words around the sob that was choking him.

"It's okay," Harry soothed, stroking his fingers through Draco's hair and rocking him. "I've got you," he breathed. "You're safe," he said, "You're safe," he repeated. "You're loved and you're accepted," he told him, "I've got you."

Draco sobbed, all of the fear, and the guilt, and the shame was built up high in his chest and he felt like he couldn't breathe around it.

"Okay," Harry soothed, "Slow breaths with me, yeah? Just try to match your breathing to mine," he said, his hand rubbing soothingly over Draco's back.

He sucked in a deep, gasping breath that burned all the way down into his lungs.

"That's it," Harry encouraged, "You're alright."

He continued breathing slowly and Draco tried to mirror it until his sobbing was just the occasional hiccup and the tears were just trickling out of his eyes.

"Okay," Harry breathed. "Better?"

Draco nodded and pulled back, "Sorry," he murmured, then he caught sight of Harry's shirt covered in tears and snot and wished that the earth would open up and swallow him, "Salazar, I'm sorry," he said, reaching for his wand and casting a hasty drying charm followed by a cleaning charm.

"It's fine," Harry said, reaching out to still Draco's motions. "It's fine," he repeated. "Look, I didn't mean to pressure you into coming out," he said. "I won't tell anyone," he added hastily.

He shook his head, "It's eating me up inside." Draco wiped the tears off his face, "I'm going to die alone."

"Don't say that," Harry said.

"Well it's true!" he said, "What am I supposed to tell my parents?"

Harry took his hand, "It's up to you," he said softly. "I won't pretend to understand the challenges you're facing. My parents are dead."

"Oh, thanks. Play the dead parent card."

Harry huffed a laugh, "Shut up. I'm trying to say that I can't imagine how difficult this is for you. It's not an easy decision and I want you to know that I am here for you, that I support you, no matter what."

His eyes filled with tears and he let out a groan, "Stop it."

The other boy wrapped his arms around him, "No."

"What is this?" he asked, from where his face was buried in Harry's neck.

"Affection."

"Disgusting," he murmured.

"Want me to stop?"

He shook his head because when Harry wasn't hugging him everything felt a little too big and a little too close.

And he had no idea what he was going to do but when Harry was holding him it didn't seem quite so scary.

-------------

A few weeks later, he and Harry had started dating in secret. Harry was very sweet, very patient as Draco struggled against years of deeply ingrained negative thoughts. Draco still felt like he was a bit of a burden but Harry always insisted he wasn't.

Just over a month after that, Hermione had figured it out on her own, Pansy had tricked him into confessing, and Ron had walked in on the two of them making out on Harry's bed.

And the world didn't end.

Slowly, over the course of the next seven months, they told all of their friends. Everyone was supportive. Everyone was happy for them, happy for him that he'd decided to walk in the truth.

Truth be told, he was happy too. His anxiety still got the worst of him some days and his fear was sometimes bigger than anything else but he got through those days and those days slowly became fewer and fewer.

He got comfortable with Harry; comfortable holding hands, comfortable with casual kisses, comfortable with bickering that turned into flirting, just comfortable in his skin.

One chilly March morning, he and Harry were out to breakfast and they were laughing and teasing each other, like they always did and Draco was happy all the way down to his toes.

He looked across the table at Harry, "You've got whipped cream on your mouth," he laughed.

Harry stuck his tongue out and missed completely.

"Here," he said with a laugh, "Let me," he added as he grabbed the front of Harry's jumper and pulled him close so he could kiss it off his grinning face.

He was pulling back to check that he'd gotten it all when he heard a gasp that he would have recognized anywhere. Draco would never be quite sure what his face and body language were saying at that moment but Harry was instantly on alert, scanning the room for danger. "Shit," he breathed.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," his mother hissed. "What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing."

"Don't make a scene, mother," he said and even he was surprised at how calm the words came out.

"I don't think that I am the one making a scene, Draco."

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said, "Why don't we go somewhere more private for this conversation."

"Oh no," she said, "I don't think there is any conversation to be had. Draco, we'll be leaving. Right this instant."

Draco looked at her, at the woman who had dried his tears, who had sacrificed for him, who had given him life and his heart yearned for her. He longed to reach out and hold her hand like he had when he was young, to let her reassure him that everything would be alright. And it could be. He knew if he walked away with her today, he'd go back to living the life that had been planned for him.

But then he looked at Harry and all he could see was freedom. His heart expanded as he remembered the late nights talking over a bottle of wine, the early mornings as the sun filtered in through Harry's window and painted him golden. He remembered the cuddles on the couch and the evenings spent cooking dinner together. And he knew that he could never go back. He could never live a life of duty and obligation knowing that this one was possible.

"I love you," he said softly as he stared at Harry.

The other man blinked before his mouth curved up in a grin, his dimples showing, "I love you, too."

He reached for Harry's hand to ground himself as he turned to his mother, "You know that I love you," he said to her, "but I can't live a lie. I can't be the boy that you wanted."

"Draco you are being ridiculous."

"Maybe," he replied. "But I never knew what it was like to be free before these past few months with Harry and I won't give them back."

She cast a belated muffliato. "There are plenty of Purebloods who are gay, Draco," she said, keeping her voice low, "You still have your obligation to have a pureblood heir. Marry a nice girl and take a lover if you must, but you will continue your bloodline."

He laughed, it sounded a bit hysterical even to his own ears. "Do you hear yourself?" he asked. "The Malfoy line can die with me. I'm not marrying some woman just to please you."

"Draco-"

"No," he said sharply. "No. I can't do this, mother. I can't be what you want me to be. I'm done." He shook his head, "You can accept this, accept me or not. Either way I am done."

She straightened her spine and smoothed the emotions from her features and Draco knew the decision she had made before she started speaking. He clasped Harry's hand tighter in his. "Very well, then," she said. "Good day," she murmured before she walked away without a backward glance.

They sat in silence for a moment before Harry asked, "Are you alright?"

"I don't know."

"What can I do?" he murmured, squeezing Draco's hand again.

"Can we go home?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, love. Of course."

He apparated them back and they spend the afternoon cocooned in Harry's room until their friends came to find them for dinner.

---------------

June 9, 2001

This year it's Draco who asked about going to the bar to celebrate Pride.

Harry smiled and pulled him in for a long kiss before nodding and getting dressed.

When they arrived, Draco slipped his fingers through Harry's holding his hand tightly; proud of Harry, proud of how far they've come, and proud of himself for how much he's grown and how brave he's become.

Several of the people he'd met the year before remembered him and are quick to congratulate him and welcome him again. The night was full of music and dancing, of listening to stories and starting to tell his own, it's everything Harry had made it sound like.

And he thought he might be happy, in spite of that little bit of his heart that always ached for his parents.

They're about to head up for another round of drinks when Harry tugged on his hand. "Look," he murmured, pointing to the door.

Draco followed his pointing and saw that there was a woman standing in the door who looked remarkably like his mother. "What?" he managed.

But Harry was already waving to her and nudging Draco forward.

"What?" he repeated when he was standing in front of her.

Without a word she wrapped her arms around him, enfolding him in the comforting feel and scent of his childhood.

"Mummy?" he whispered.

"Yes, darling," she replied, voice equally thick with tears.

Harry cleared his throat, "I'll fetch us some drinks. What can I get you Narcissa?" he asked.

"Whiskey neat," she replied without releasing her hold on Draco.

He pulled back after one more moment, "What are you doing here?"

"Where else could I be?" she asked. "When we didn't see you for your birthday last week," she shook her head. "Well, I knew that I was making a mistake."

Harry returned handing them their drinks and nodding toward a table nearby.

They headed over and she sat next to Draco, "You're my child, Draco," she said. "And I love you more than you can imagine."

He nodded once but didn't say anything. This sounded too much like the start to one of the 'I love you and if you love me, this is how you should act' talks.

"Fortunately, your Mr. Potter has sent quite regular correspondence."

"What?" Draco said, whipping his head around to look at Harry.

He nodded once but before Draco could question him his mother continued.

"He invited me to come tonight," she continued, "To support you. And I've missed so much already, how could I say no?"

"This isn't a phase," he said. "I'm not going to change my mind or be cured one day."

She nodded, "I know."

"Does father?"

She hummed, "We're getting there." She took his hand in her's, "For now, won't you introduce me to some of your new friends?"

--------

Two years later, when he and Harry got married, both of his parents were there, sitting right in the front row and cheering them on.

---------

Thanks for the prompt! I don't quite know what you were hoping for so I hope this is okay! <3

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #pride #drarry #drarry ficlet #drarry drabbles #love #learning to love yourself #cw:internalized homophobia #cw:homophobic parents #happy ending #but read with care if you have triggers related to internalized homophobia or homophobic parents #you are loved-valued-and accepted

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

can i request pre-serum steve x male reader in the 1940's where the reader is the one taking care of steve through all his illness and kinda using that as a reason to see steve so often with out anyone getting suspicious, until he is drafted in to the war and disappears. In 2023 when steve is taking back the stones he decides not to stay but to take the reader with him to the future and they continue to love each other in the future as well.

This was really fun to write! I hope you like it!! :)

Pairings: Steve x Male!Reader

Warnings: Implied homophobic neighbours, mentions of death, mentions of difficulty dealing with death and disappearance, slight insecurities, the reader feels lonely.

Word Count: 1027

Knocking on the door to the Rogers’ residence, you look behind you. You knew it was stupid to be so paranoid, but you didn’t want anyone to find out - you couldn’t have anyone to find out. No one could know that you and Steve were more than just friends. Sure, everyone knew that you were good friends and you helped him when he wasn’t well, but it wouldn’t be good for either you or Steve. But it wouldn't be good if they became aware of your other… activities. Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you turned back to the front door, just as it swung open. Steve huddled in a blanket was what greeted you, you gave him a small smile.

“How are you feeling?” You asked worriedly.

“I’m fine,” He said, sounding congested, it was followed by a weak cough. You held back a smirk, knowing that Steve actually felt okay. He would put on the voice - some of the time - when he was feeling okay so that you could come round without the neighbours suspecting anything. But you knew the difference between the ‘I’m actually ill’ and the ‘I’m pretending to be ill so that you can come round’ voices.

“Let me come in and get you comfortable,” You said, Steve nodded, sniffing as he moved aside so that you could walk through the door. When the door shut you turned to Steve with a smirk, “Liar,”

“You caught me,” Steve grinned cheekily at you, you rolled your eyes fondly.

“Your neighbours are going to think you’re always ill,” You said, folding your arms.

“And I am, most of the time, just not today,”

“Or yesterday,” You pointed out, Steve rolled his eyes slightly, stepping closer.

“Or yesterday,” He whispered before slowly connecting your lips with his.

You had to admit when Steve first got the serum, you were nervous. There was the possibility that it didn’t work and ended up hurting Steve - which you obviously didn’t want. But then there was the possibility that it did work. That Steve became a scientific marvel and with that the possibility that Steve got caught up in the fame that could come with that. The new life that would most likely present itself for him. What if he left you? What if he found someone better?

You found out, that whilst Steve’s physical appearance had changed, he was still the same man that you fell in love with at heart. The same caring, charming, ridiculously selfless man. Which only strengthened your love for him.

But then Steve joined the army and fought in the second world war. And then he disappeared. And then you were alone again. Forced to continue as though nothing had happened. It took you a little while to get back to anything that resembled a routine, four months in fact. Each day was the same, wake up, get ready, go to work, come home, have dinner, go to see Mrs Rogers, go to bed. Wake up, repeat. It was dull without your daily Steve Rogers fix you had become so dependant on. You couldn’t even see your best friend, Bucky, as he had died before Steve had disappeared. Then when just before the fifth month, when Mrs Rogers had passed away. And your life had become even more lonely. It was just you at this point. You and your memories.

Then one day, the darndest of things happened. You were walking home from an extremely long shift at the railway, upon approaching your front door, you noticed a tall man standing on your patio with his back to you. With a furrowed brow, you walked up to him, he was wearing an odd white, grey, and red suit, he had dirty blonde hair, reminding you of Steve. Feeling a twinge in your stomach at the thought of Steve, you took a breath before continuing the short walk to your door. Stopping a few steps behind the man in front of you, you cleared your throat.

“Can I help you, Sir?” You asked, folding your arms, trying not to let your anxiety slip through into your voice.

“(Y/N)?” You felt your jaw drop and your eyes widen.

“Steve?” You asked, before flinging yourself at him. You tried to blink back the tears, half-convinced you were dreaming. “What-? How-?”

“It’s a long story,” Steve said, hesitantly.

“I’ve got time,” You grinned, unlocking the door, motioning for him to walk through.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” Steve said sarcastically, staring at your bland walls, all that had taken residence in your living room was a small shelf that contained no more than fifteen books (all of them being comfort reading), as well as a couch and a small coffee table.

“Very funny,” You said sarcastically. “So, what’s exactly going on then?”

It took Steve a while to explain everything to you and you found yourself in immense shock at the news. You had to ask him to repeat a few things you weren’t clear on - an example being the whole Bucky situation, that one really did a number on you. “Wow,” You breathed out, “That’s a lot,” Steve huffed a laugh as he agreed with you.

“But, I came here to ask… Would you like to come with me?” He asked, “To the future, I mean,”

You grinned, “Definitely, what are we waiting for?” Steve’s face lit up. “Let me just grab my jacket, I have no clue what the weather will be like in the future,” You winked, Steve chuckled with a shake of his head. He had missed your antics.

Time travel felt strange, you found out. It wasn’t painful, or unpleasant, just strange. One minute you were in your

It was great, in the future with Steve. You had felt so alone and suddenly you had the love of your life and your best friend back. You always had a smile on your face, woke up ready for the day, and could be yourself. For once, you didn’t have to come up with an intense plan or excuse when someone saw you with Steve. And god it felt good.

#steve rogers #marvel #steve rogers x male reader #x male reader #avengers #reader insert #the avengers #reader #endgame au

[kiefbowl]

Okay i saw your post about secret terf readers and i am one. So i have a question. Is there any room for asexuals on the radfem community? I feel like from the actual theory we could talk about how marriage is oppressive, cultural constructions of what it means to be human, the shaming of single women, etc., but every radfem blog i find only ever wants to make fun of aces for being virgins or whatever. I really peaked after reading abt the cotton ceiling, being pressured to alter sexuality 4 men

This ask is pretty old. tw for discussion of sexual violence below.

yes, sure I think there is space for asexuals in radfem community. However…I do believe that true asexuality in humans is extremely rare. That being said, if what you’re experiencing (due to fear, preference, trauma, conditioning, whatever…) is what you’re willing to call asexuality, then it might as well be, right? If women are choosing a celibate life and believe it’s coming from an innate part of themselves, I have doubts but I don’t really want to argue about it with them. What good would that do for me or that woman? I think it’s normal, fine, perhaps even healthier in some circumstances to not have sex. No one needs to have sex, no one “should” have sex.

I do think the jokes about asexual people come from a place of concern for the entitlement a) apparently straight and b) self-admitting sex havers possess to be included in the lgbt, the “queer” community, under the “gay umbrella”, especially with how much homophobia is slung around in these conversations. Many people on tumblr/twitter will say they are “ace” but admit to have a heterosexual relationship where they are having frequent sex, and then claim either specifically or through implication that gay people oppress them by not “allowing” (how? in what way?) them to discuss their “queer experiences” of being…in danger somehow? The “danger” the ace community will discuss is often just copied pasted list of homophobic dangers gay and bi people experience, with no sources. It seems like straight fetishization of homophobic violence - ace people are not being denied homes and jobs and are not being beat up.

I will say the idea that women are “correctively raped” to “fix her” of her lack of interest in sex has some merit, I just wish they wouldn’t use that language. Especially since that idea of raping women to “unlock” her sexuality is just standard age old misogyny that all women are at risk of, not just women who want to be celibate. It’s important that standard terms and words we use to mean specific things don’t get muddied up by expanding the definition until the words are useless. Corrective rape is used to describe a specific homophobic violence, there’s no need to co-opt this very touchy and potentially triggering subject. Its also not, as I outlined above, an “ace” issue as much as a woman’s issue: a woman’s desire to be non-sexual will often not be respected due to the patriarchal idea that a woman doesn’t own her sexuality, men do. Women are not “allowed” to make this choice, they are receptacles for male sexual gratification.

in any case, to answer the question, yes all women should be welcomed to explore radical feminism, and other forms of feminism. BUT! All women should be expected to have their beliefs challenged in the processed, and have what they hold as objective truth questioned. I also could discuss more about what exactly is a “radfem community”, where do they exist and how do they exist, vs radfem tumblr. I don’t think I’ll expand on that here at this time, but I would argue the abbreviation “radfem” and how it’s used online has ostensively taken on a new meaning than just “radical feminist.” there IS a radfem community on tumblr, but is it radical feminist? is it feminist? is it well defined? how does it function? my main takeaway for this particular point is that feeling ostracized from “radfem tumblr” shouldn’t fully color your experiences as a woman exploring feminism. enjoy exploring! :)

[realcube]

haikyuu!! boys when you come out to them as bisexual  🏳️‍🌈

characters: yamaguchi, tsukishima & kenma

part two!!

tw// fem!reader, fluff, coming out, 

Tadashi Yamaguchi

ok so hot-take but i think yamaguchi is straight

(or maybe bi but with a heavy preference for females)

but rn he identifies as straight 

but like..he’s so supportive of the lgbtq+ community

like tsukishima gives off ‘gay but homophobic’ energy

but yamaguchi has ‘straight but a strong ally’ energy

and this is hugely bc while tsukishima fell down the alt-right pipeline, yamaguchi was going through that ‘women 😍🤩💕’  phase which i think every WLW has went through at one point

like while tsukishima was watching ‘sjw get rekt compliation #125′ , yamaguchi was watching those heart-wrenching lgbtq+ short films on youtube 

and on tiktok his fyp was probably originally cottagecore (bc it’s his ideal lifestyle ofc) and somehow he is now kinda on sapphic cottagecore tiktok 

like not to fetishize them or anything, just bc he’s awed by how in love they are and that’s kinda what he wants for himself

(also he uses them as date inspo for you and him DFBZVAYUL)

anyway this was just my lengthened explanation as to why - unbeknownst to you or anyone - he was an ally to the lgbtq+ community (if not apart of it)

you didn’t really expect him to be disgusted or unsupportive of it tbh - i mean, it’s tadashi ffs! 💞 you know he’d never break up with you or judge you for something like that, but that didn’t stop you from being slightly nervous

but he was ten times more nervous when you texted him, asking for him to meet you by the local park’s fountain bc you had something important to tell him

mans thought you were dying ngl

he almost burst out crying on the walk to the park bc he imagined a whole scenario where he was sitting next to your fkn death-bed 

but you seemed healthy enough so his next assumption was that you were going to break-up with him

so when he approached you by the water fountain and you noticed that his eyes were glossy and his hair was damp with sweat, you were quite worried for him now

‘tadashi! are you okay?! your eyes are all puffy and red! do you have hay fever?’

yamaguchi rapidly shook his head, hastily escorting you to a nearby park bench so you could sit down beside him, ‘it’s nothing; what is it that you want to tell me?’

‘oh’ you choked, quickly averting your gaze from his kind, damp eyes. ‘it’s- um, i don’t-’ you cut yourself off, mentally cursing at yourself as you had practised what you were going to say to him hundreds of times before he arrived yet you still couldn’t stammer it out

yamaguchi was hanging on each word you uttered, but once he noticed that you were struggling, he placed his hands upon yours and shot you a reassuring smile

you let out a sigh in hopes to relieve your nerves while rehearsing what you were gonna say one more time in your head before blurting it out,

‘babe, erm, i’ve been questioning for a while and i’ve concluded that i’m bi - as in bisexual; and i just thought i’d tell you bec--’

you genuinely thought that you might have to explain to yamaguchi what bisexual means so IMAGINE your surprise when he simply replies, ‘you’re bisexual? is that all you wanted to tell me?’ and once you hum in agreement, he lets out a heave of euphoric relief

‘(y/n), please don’t make fun of me but on the way here, i was almost gonna cry because i thought you were going to tell me something horrible.’ he clutched his chest, breathing heavily - usually he’d never admit to something like that but right now, he felt that it was appropriate

you snickered at his rather exaggerated actions, ‘awh, baby. i’m sorry.’ a pout formed on your lips as you soothingly rubbed his back.

yamaguchi rapidly shook his head before turning the tables and rubbing your back instead, ‘nonono, it’s fine! i’m fine!- and i’m glad you’re fine too.’ he stumbled, hastily placing a kiss on your cheek before whispering in your ear, ‘i’m so proud of you. congratulations!’

although you couldn’t see his face, you could tell from his light voice that he was beaming 

after that, he buried his nose into the crook of you neck and snaked his arms around your waist to pull you into a hug, which you both stayed in for a good 5 minutes

Kei Tsukishima

let’s be honest, tsukki’s definitely part of the lgbtq+ community but in deep denial

like if you ask him, he’s not even questioning his gender or sexuality, he’s just ✨straight ✨

so when you just randomly joked one day ‘oi, four-eyes, turn this shit off. she’s too much for my lil’ bi heart to handle.’ while y’all were watching a movie and you instinctively made an off-hand comment about how gorgeous the female lead was 

upon realising what you just said, you turned to him with the most awkward grin plastered on your face, ‘tsukki, i’m bisexual, by the way.’

‘no shit, sherlock.’ he hissed at your use of that little nickname 

you turned your head to look at him as you blinked rapidly, finally  mentally processing his response 

while he did the exact same thing simultaneously, dramatically turning his head to meet your gaze before muttering, ‘was that you coming out?’

your eyes widened as you realised, then nodded slowly

tsukishima smirked, shifting his attention back onto the movie, ‘congrats.’ he spoke in a mellow voice, a slight sense of amiability laced into his tone 

‘thanks-’

‘have you told your parents yet?’ he quirked a brow, his eyes remaining glued to the screen

you hesitated before shaking your head, ‘no.’ 

‘what about your friends?’

‘yeah, i came out to my friend group a few months ago - along with yamaguchi.’

tsukishima couldn’t help but frown at the fact you came out to yamaguchi before him but honestly, he couldn’t blame you - he was aware that his bitchy exterior probably discouraged you from telling him sooner, so he was just glad that you had the confidence to tell him eventually  

‘so how long have you known that you’re, like, y’know, bi?’  he inquired further

‘a while.’ you hummed, biting your bottom lip, internally so relieved that he wasn’t being too awkward or weird about it

‘good for you.’ he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, not a hint of sarcasm or irony detected in his voice for a change, ‘oh, and good luck with coming out to your parents’

‘thank you.’ you murmur, happily shifting your attention back onto the movie

 tsukishima honestly doesn’t mind/care tbh

like he’s supportive and will beat a bitch up if they don’t accept you - but in general, he thinks that it’s none of his business who you love

as long as it is him (ಥ _ ಥ) 

Kenma Kuzome

ok so fun story 

you were both chilling in his room on a saturday, he was playing on his nintendo switch as always and you were on your phone

you had been meaning to come out to him for a while now but every time you tried, it seemed as though something happened to prevent you from doing so 

for example, you tried to come out to him while y’all were chilling at the park but then a bunch of geese started terrorizing y’all and it completely ruined the mood

so you thought that now you were in his room - where there was less of an abundance of geese - it’d be a better time than any to just lift the burden that had been weighing on your chest

you were as nervous as any one would be but you kept on trying to reassure yourself that kenma would be supportive 

however, he had never discussed any lgbtq+ related issues with you so you had no idea where he stood with that sort of stuff but tbh, he doesn’t give off homophobic vibes 

after a while of staring at the wall and working up the courage, you finally spoke up, ‘hey, kenma. i think i might be bi.’

you mentally cursed at yourself as you didn’t ‘think’ that you are bi but rather you knew that you are bi, yet you felt the need to add that filler just in case things went sour

he perked up upon hearing this and turned to look at you, a small smile gracing his lips, ‘okay, that’s cool. congratulations.’ 

you couldn’t help but beam back at him, ‘thanks, babe.’ you almost whispered, gladly going back to whatever you were doing on your phone

honestly, you were happy to leave the interaction at that - i mean, his brief and calm response was satisfying beyond expected, as it was probably the least awkward way that could’ve possibly gone down

however, what happened next filled you with endless amounts of euphoria 

‘oh, and (y/n).’ kenma said to grab your attention, ‘i’m bisexual.’

you did a double-take 

your instincts told you to throw yourself into his arms and rave on about how proud you are that he had the courage to come out but after a moment of reflection, you had a better idea

‘okay, that’s cool. congratulations.’

kenma automatically pouted at how you used his own words against him when he was clearly expecting a hug, ‘(y/n)..’ he whined lowly, shifting his gaze back onto his game

but you were weak so ofc you pulled him into a hug as you both muttered sweet, reassuring things into each other’s ears

‘i love you so much, (y/n) no matter what.’

‘i know.’ you snickered.

‘bitch-’

‘i love you too. and i’m so proud of you for coming out - you’re so brave.’

‘aw, thanks. so are you, babe.’

‘i know’

kenma playfully nibbled at your neck for being such a clown during a sentimental moment

but anyway, you helped kenma come out so- yeah :))

#yamaguchi imagine #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi scenario #yamaguchi x you #yamaguchi x y/n #yamaguchi fluff #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima hcs #kenma x y/n #kenma fluff #kenma hcs #kenma x reader #kenma x you #yamaguchi headcanons #haikyuu!! #tsukishima headcanons #kenma headcanons #kenma haikyuu #tsukishima scenarios #haikyuu kenma #yamaguchi hcs #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima imagine #kenma kuzome #hq kenma

[bicultureblog]

okay this is probably not the right place to ask LMAO but i literally contemplate my sexuality every week. I feel like my attraction is a lot less strong for women that it’s almost invisible, and along with that, i only feel attracted to two women right now. I’m also only attracted to two guys rn, but i feel like I’m attracted to guys more often and more strongly. I know that could just mean that I have a preference with guys but idk. Also i grew up desiring relationships with guys plus i have to admit im sorta homophobic internally but to MYSELF. Like im fine with other people dating whoever they want but imagining myself with a woman just doesnt sit right with me for some reason. But at the same time im pretty sure im attracted to these two women.

In conclusion, im confused as heck and im sorry for taking up ur inbox space lmaooo

first i’d like to reassure you that internalized homophobia doesn’t make you evil, you don’t have to prove that you’re a good person, you don’t have to atone for the sin of growing up in a world that teaches you to hate yourself. you obviously don’t believe in homophobia, you’ve just internalized a heterosexist bias and it’s hurting you. you know to treat other queer folks with respect and you deserve equal respect and kindness and help unlearning that shame, not further shame for somehow disrespecting other gays by proxy, jesus christ. you are not an enemy to queers. you don’t sound like a homphobe, you sound like another queer person who has been hurt by homophobia. you are not a villain. please don’t feel ashamed, please don’t blame yourself for the harm done to you as if it’s really you hurting other people.

and on the topic of sexuality, it sounds like you like girls! you might like boys a lot more than girls, but you do like a couple girls, and that’s queer enough for me. i would guess your internalized homophobia influences that perception and could be causing you to repress and downplay your attraction to girls, but it could also just be that you like guys more, and that’s totally fine. even if it is the internalized homophobia, that takes time to unlearn, and you shouldn’t force yourself to rush it. i took a long time to accept that i like guys and it doesn’t make me evil or dangerous or weak. i needed a transitional period. i tried to go straight from “100% monosexual allergic-to-men lesbian” to “proud slutty bisexual” and it didn’t fucking work. shaming myself for having internalized biphobia didn’t undo it. i was scared, i felt like a traitor. what i needed was to relax. i needed a middle ground to teach me that it wasn’t all or nothing, that i didn’t need to stress myself out and punish myself for not being “better.” i needed the term “bisexual lesbian,” because the word “lesbian” was such a core part of my identity, i couldn’t just rip it out. now i feel whole and at home in my bisexuality, precisely because i know i can come back to lesbianism whenever i want to. it was like a kid who needs their mom to come with them on the first day of school before they feel safe going alone. another example: i’ve always hated the word “wife,” my whole life. i hated the idea of being called a wife. i dreaded getting married and having to put up with being called a wife. one day i realized i didn’t have to! i realized that even if i was a married woman one day, i didn’t have to call myself a wife if i didn’t want to. i could be a partner, or a spouse, or a female husband. since i realized that, i don’t hate the word wife anymore. i feel much better about it. i feel ok with the idea of being called a wife, because i know that it’s my choice. i don’t have to be forced into anything i don’t want. you will probably need some kind of transition like that. it’ll take a while to accept yourself and get comfortable in your own skin. the important thing is that it’s your choice. you don’t “have” to do anything. you don’t have a responsibility to be a model queer. do whatever makes you comfortable.

#juno speaks #ask #i'm sorry i took so long! #and that the answer is so rambly lmao #i hope i'm still in time to be of help #not gimmick