#I love being bisexual <- my only thoughts while drawing

[seagiri]

ahaha

[mytheoristavenue]

LF Creature x Reader - Mutal Comfort

Summary: You owed Lisa a favor, but you never expected she'd make you pay it back in the form of babysitting her undead boytoy while she goes to a party.

Warnings: rushed/not proofread, bisexual!reader, reader has an unreciprocated crush on Lisa, angst, fem!reader

"Lisa, I never agreed to this!" You shouted at your best friend as she hurried over to crawl back out of your window.

"I promise I'll make it up," she waved you off, sliding the glass panel up. "It's just for the night, I swear. I'll be back before school."

With that she was gone, hearing no other protests. You stood with your back flattened against the wall, frightened gaze never leaving the thing on the other side of your bedroom.

You were the only person who knew of Creature's presence, being Lisa's very best friend for life or whatever. You'd do anything for her but babysitting her undead little pet was definitely stretching boundaries.

You felt some guilt for your terror, after all, he did look incredibly somber, shrinking into the opposite corner. Maybe he felt bad for scaring you?

"S-Soo...uh," you started, pushing off the wall but only by mere centimeters. "Y-You...Lisa's new boyfriend?" The thing seemed rigid at the thought and reluctantly shook his head. "Let me guess, you wanna be?" You prodded, inching closer still. Another timid nod. The two of you had that in common, apparently.

"You and me both," you sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed. Creature eyed you skeptically, still in the corner but not as glued to the wall as before. "Don't look at me like that, I don't mean I want to be her boyfriend." You paused, wondering if his expression was caused by the thought of you being gay or wanting to be a male, or maybe he was jealous at the thought of competition. "But, I don't know, being girlfriends might be nice..."

By this time, he'd inched close enough to sit on the other side of the bed, still as far away on it as possible, though. You took this as a sign to continue. "It's just that, me and Lis have been besties since like- kindergarten. I even convinced my parents to move her with her after her mom died and it feels like all she does is blow me off now," you ranted. "Like, before the incident, we'd have these long talks about the future, and we were always in each other's but now...I don't know anymore..."

An anguished moan was his only response as he drew his discolored hand to his chest. "Sorry," you said dropping your head. "I know you've gotta be hurting too listening to her ramble on about-" You brought your hands to your cheeks and batted your lashes, making your voice an octave higher to imitate your crush. "Micheal Trent!" He nodded, rolling his eyes slightly. "Y'know, I really don't know what she sees in him? Dude's a class A poser. He pretends to be into all that dark music and poetry but it's literally just to look cool and mysterious so all the preppy girls will fall in love with him."

While you ranted, Creature studied your room, noting how different it was from Lisa's. She had string lights, drawings, and moody posters all over her walls, while yours were tidy and well-organized with framed photos and prints of paintings that matched the color scheme of the walls. Eventually, you caught onto his staring and fell quiet prompting him to glance back to you.

"Didn't mean to fly off the handle, my bad." you muttered, standing up with a sigh. "Anyways, what do you like to do? Got any hobbies?" He stood up with you, wandering over to a keyboard that had collected dust in the corner. Curiously, he stuck a key and cringed at the sound it made. You joined him, explaining it. "That's just my old keyboard. I used to play piano as a kid but when we moved here we couldn't take my piano with us, so my dad got me this. It's kinda like an electric piano, only it's portable. Don't really like it though, too synthy for my taste."

Creature sat down in front of it, fumbling with the buttons on the control board while trying out the keys after each adjustment. Finally, he seemed to have found a setting he liked. "I'm guessing you play?" you cocked a brow. You couldn't have predicted how the cocky smirk then tossed you would make you feel. Following that, he threaded his finders together before pushing them out, cracking his knuckles before dramatically slamming down on the keys.

"Holy shit," you breathed, listening to the classical tune that filled your room. Needless to say, he played beautifully and was incredibly talented. At one point, he even glanced up at you with another shit-eating grin, showcasing the fact that he knew the positions by memory and didn't even need to look.

"You're amazing!" you explained when the song was finished, placing your hands on either shoulder and rocking him gently. "I've never seen that much musical skill from one person! What, were you like a professional pianist in your first life or something?"

To your surprise, he actually nodded. "Jesus christ man, I've never even heard that song before, did you write that?" He nodded again, and again, you were flabbergasted. "I bet you had an extraordinarily hard life." You muttered without thinking. "Art like that only comes out of suffering." As he nodded yet again, this time more bashfully, the two of you shared a moment of silence.

"I'm sorry, that was rude," you realized, glancing away. This time, Creature shook his head, an uncharacteristically peachy hand guiding your face back toward his as he stepped closer. For a moment, you waited to see what wisdom he had to offer, before remembering that no words would come as he stared at you, only able to offer a comforting gaze. "I wish you could talk," you whispered as he pulled you into his chest without you even realizing it. "But then again, maybe it's better you can't." you retorted to yourself bitterly. "I've had enough people tell me to cheer up because life gets better."

Creature stiffened, pushing you to hold you at arm's length, shaking his head again. "You think you got something better?" you asked, rhetorically.

Sensing your irritation, he resigned himself to giving up on communication for now. Taking matters into his own hands, he pressed a palm to his heart, a sign for you to trust him. Gently, he guided you back to your bed, pushing you down onto it. Awkwardly, Creature untucked the quilt from the bed a threw it over you, signalling for you to lay down, before tucking you in. You reluctantly followed his instruction, laying down on your side, tears welling in your eyes from all the overwhelming emotion bubbling inside you. You then watched as he made his way over to your desk, seeming to write something on a sheet of notebook paper Following this, he laid the note at your feet as he took a seat in front of the keyboard again.

You couldn't deny that you were beginning to feel drowsy after the soft music he played filled the room. This song was nothing like the first one. It was sweet and serene, unlike the dark and dramatic one he'd first played- with that cocky grin that made you feel so conflicted.

On the cusp of needing to rest your eyes, you remembered the note he'd left for you, briefly sitting up to reach it before laying back down, holding it up in the air to read what it said as he played your consciousness out.

"The sun does not ever reappear if the rain never stops. To live happily is to find solace in any weather. With the right balance, the flowers will begin to bloom. I hope to one day see a lush garden in you, darling."

[aritany]

On Identity: The Truth

Content warnings: homophobia, transphobia, references to self harm and suicide.

I’ve been keeping secrets my whole life.

I’m 10 and I’m listening to my dad at the dinner table, who I know to be the most trustworthy person in the world. He talks about the legalization of marriage between two people of the same sex and asks us to consider the implications. Where do we draw the line in the sand? Legalizing gay marriage paves the way for legalizing pedophilia, after all. If a union between two men or two women isn’t disrespecting the sanctity of marriage, what’s next? Marriage between men and animals?

I’m 11 the first time I hear it: “It doesn’t matter how low I set the bar for you, you still can’t reach it.”

I’m confused and afraid—I’m trying so hard—but I hear it then, and again, and again, spoken low in disappointment, shouted with a vein popping in her forehead, cold like a fact, and it sinks in, bone deep.

I’m 12 with my first crush on a girl. I’m not confused, I know that’s what it is—I want to kiss my friend, and I already know not to talk about it. Never to talk about it. It isn’t safe.

I’m 13 and doubting. I throw myself into fitting in. I pick the right boys to like and I go overboard, and I do like them, I do, I do, I want them to like me, I want to be their friend. I want to be their equal, but that’s not quite how the story goes, so I settle for trying to hold hands with somebody I desperately crave respect from, but that’s wrong too, I learn. 

I’m 14 and convicted. How could this be wrong? I brush hands with a girl in choir and we meet eyes and I know. I watch a gay kiss on TV and I sob into my hands and I tell no one, no one, no one.

I’m 15 and I come out to my mom, haltingly, with the terminology that I have, because the thought of hiding forever—keeping quiet through one more dinner—kills me.

She tells me no. She tells me I’m wrong.

I look in her eyes and I understand: it’s not an option, and it never will be.

I’m 15 and I do my best to stop there.

It doesn’t work.

I’m 16 when I first hear my mom say that you can love someone and not approve of their lifestyle. I wonder what kind of love that is. I wonder how that kind of diluted, half-hearted, patronizing love can be enough for anyone. I wonder if she’s thought about how that feels, to be told that who you are—not by choice—is fundamentally wrong.

I’m 16 and a boyfriend is a shield. The right choice, so I make it, and it’s even almost fun. I love being his friend. I’m afraid of anything more.

I’m 17 and my youngest sibling whispers, “So am I.”

My heart breaks for the pain they’ll experience, as they too are taught, painstakingly, how to hate themself. Which parts of themself have to be kept hidden, which parts are shameful. They sit at that dinner table and hear the rhetoric that pushed me to the brink and over it, and I hope they’re stronger than I am.

They aren’t.

I’m 18 and my mom works at a college for the performing arts. I sit and curdle quietly while she talks about her genderqueer students. Misgenders them behind their backs. Deadnames used flippantly. She knows better, after all. She can be the expert on somebody else’s identity. They’re mentally ill, all of them. None of them are happy. They’re searching for something only God can provide.

I’m 19 and I come out as bisexual to the man I’m certain I’m going to marry, tearing the secret out like a bandage fused to skin. He tells me of course it’s fine, that he supports who I am. Of course people like me should have rights, of course. I laugh, relieved. Later, I find out this moment was almost a dealbreaker for him, and I wonder how much was ever real.

I’m 20 and I’m out. I’m 20 and I’m free. I’m 20 and I believe, because I’ve been told, that I am loved for who I am. All of who I am. I still flinch when I hear a car door slam.

I’m 21 and I’m searching for the connection to my womanhood. I’m searching for what makes a woman a woman. I’m reading gender theory and talking to friends around the world and wondering exactly what it is that I’m missing.

What does the rest of the world know that I don’t?

I’m 22 when my marriage ends because my body might not be attractive to my husband one day, and my parents email him in support and solidarity, expressing sympathy, and I’m not surprised.

I’m 22, and standing up for who I am has cost me everything. A spouse, two sets of parents, financial security, a city’s worth of community, more childhood friends than I can count. My parents tell me to go back in the closet so my ex-husband will love me. To them, his frustration is understandable, of course—by presenting androgynously, I’m betraying my marriage vows, after all.

I wonder, stunned into silence, where I promised to look like a woman.

I’m 23 when I come out to my parents for the third time; not as bisexual, not as trans, but as hurt. 

I lay out the pain of the last decade as succinctly as I can, hoping they’ll hear. When I assert that yes, to be in relationship with me, use of my name and pronouns is a requirement, my mother jokes, “Well, we don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

It’s not a joke.

I see the flash in her eyes, the instant regret as she laughs it off like it’s funny, but it isn’t.

The kid sitting at the dinner table knows it’s not a joke. The kid who listened to countless lectures on the morality of queerness knows it’s not a joke. The kid who stood with shaking hands and tried to bleed out the bad knows it’s not a joke. Years of casual bigotry taught me how to hate myself, which parts of myself I should cross out and ignore, which parts of myself I should be ashamed of.

I’m 23, and I have finally unlearned shame, and when I ask my parents to see me, the joke is that I’m a terrorist. I’m unreasonable.

The shock of it becomes a balm, later on.

Some jokes aren’t funny.

Some jokes aren’t jokes at all.

I’m 24 and I’m learning that it’s scary to be alone. Bigotry made me an orphan and made us strangers, and knowing that it’s the right choice to stand up for myself doesn’t make it any easier. I’m learning the only way out is through, if you’re not squeamish:

Cut off the part of yourself that’s 7 years old standing outside of their bedroom because the nightmare had teeth and claws and they are the heroes that will hold you close and make it warm again.

Amputate.

Cauterize.

Don’t let them see you bleed.

I’m learning that the wound takes a long, long time to close.

I’m 25 as I write this, and I am proud of who I am, even if I’m still bleeding. All of who I am. It’s taken a long time for me to let that person see the sun, but here we are, basking in the glow. Those wounds are healing. I am visible for everyone else who whispers, “So am I.”

Your sunshine will come. Your sunshine will come. 

Your sunshine will come.

[s3rrrpentine]

these are my main bitches!!! (very affectionate)

tw: child abuse

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Cheii is my very first oc (2016), then comes his bestfriends (2018), Xavier and Akari (xavier's gf). but for now, i will be yapping about the boys!

these drawings are from 2020-2022??? i don't remember :'-) it's been a while.

i hope you can see by their outfits... guess who is the wild child lmao (it's xavier)

xavier is like. the love child of ghost and soap (at least to me!!!) his body is decorated with scars because of childhood trauma but he is also energetic and loud (coping mechanism). a little ghostsoap coded don't you think? 💀🧼

also his undercut reminds me of soap... i thought of giving him a mohawk too before. purposely wear ugly colours just to spite people when actually he felt pity for the colours.

loves to fight, it gave him an adrenaline rush and dopamine because my guy's insane and depressed. yes he got daddy and mommy issues :O touch-starved and will cry for being praised.

the mom left them with no goodbye first. then, his glasgow smile was caused by his hot-temper-alcoholic dad with a kitchen knife. he was only 12 years old :-/

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

"Little fucker, since you like smiling and shit, I'll give you one," His dad grinned widely, breathing raggedly as he carved his son's face with the knife. Xavier's bloodcurdling scream made the house door to be kicked open by their neighbours and Cheii.

Cheii rushed towards Xavier who was helplessly sobbing on the floor, begging for his mom. His heart bleeds for Xavier. All he could do was hold his hands and cry with him. Saying his sorry for being too late as the guilt ate him from the inside.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

my dear cheii is probably closed to my headcanon ghost's personality. quiet, observant, tolerates with his circle ONLY. no smile kind of guy but secretly the sweetest, kindest little bean <333 he is no words, ALL action.

he is like the good student turn bad??? because he saw how free xavier is living his teenage life without the pressure of good expectations. not a delinquent but definitely can fight, prefer not to but had to (because of xavier) oh yeah, he surely developed savior complex because of that certain someone lol

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

xavier is bisexual while cheii is asexual/demisexual (wow literally my hc for soap and ghost and i think that's cool)

their relationship is definitely platonic. but soulmate. brothers for life. i-would-die-for-you kind of relationship. nothing sexual but they definitely kissed each other before (they felt nothing!)

uh i gave xavier the most trauma for "character development" so he is the most special and precious to me. you can say that cheii is like the "second male lead"... loved by all (it's just me) but kinda mediocre???? he is too... indifferent... hmmm

that's all i wanted to show hehe sorry if it was all over the place :^}

[abibliophobiaa]

firstly I love your new blog layout it’s so fucking cute, secondly I love you 💕 thirdly, for your baby prompts, I’m thinking……… butterfly

happiness is a butterfly

got a little carried away with this one. 3k words of modern day!best friend!eddie munson x afab!reader. contains: fluff, alcohol, confessions of feelings, bisexual reader, two friends in a room who might kiss (they do), suggestive innuendo (eddie’s a sweetheart), and argyle’s matchmaking ways. thank you @breddiemunson and @ghost-proofbaby for always calming my wild thoughts, and katie’s line where eddie asks reader not to make him say what she already knows. genius, that one.

-

“happiness is a butterfly

try to catch it like every night

it escapes from my hands into moonlight…”

happiness is a butterfly - lana del rey.

-

Photo after photo. Swipe after swipe. Endless hopefuls that aren’t really hopefuls, because there aren’t many of those in Hawkins these days.

No—there are merely boys, wearing the skin of men, playing with hearts with a carelessness that leaves damage in their wake. Leaves your heart ripped to shreds; battered and bruised. Wounded, but not broken, with jagged lines where smooth surfaces had once been.

Tonight is no different. Tonight you mourn your relationship with Travis. Travis, who played hockey and apparently a different girl or guy in every state. You’d only found out through social media.

One of the girls he brought back to his hotel room had posted an image on her story while he slept, which then surfaced on another person’s social media account, and then eventually became a social media article on some gossip website you couldn’t, for the life of you, be bothered to remember.

You suppose the “Travis debacle,” as Eddie has been calling it, is your fault. A guy from out of town. The allure of some famous player with a broken down car in front of the Hideout, where you worked as a bartender, that you’d had your friend Eddie fix up as a favor.

You’d tossed him his keys as the sun set, burnt orange and red across the summer sky, and he’d asked, “How much?”

And suddenly you’d spent the week welcoming him around Hawkins, as well as the intricacies of your susceptible heart. Had preened and praised him while he perused his options in the next town over on his problematic apps.

The same apps you’re now frowning at, watching the population around you continue to dwindle with every pass of your thumb.

“You know, they say insanity is—”

“Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

You shoot a glare Eddie’s way, watching his dexterous fingers pull his hair back into a makeshift bun at the back of his head. Those same fingers reach down to grab your glass, chipped black nail polish capturing your attention as he draws your drink up to his lips and takes a long sip.

“Tequila. Travis really fucked up.” He chuckles. The movement has his cropped shirt billowing around his hips, tattoos on his sides visible where the holes his arms extend through as he settles down beside you. “You know, I think you need to ditch the apps. I did, and I’m much better for it.”

“You got a puppy a few weeks ago,” you point out, finger jabbing him in the ribs. He hisses, cupping his pec. “Getting a puppy is code for throwing in the towel.”

“Ozz is the cutest puppy, I’ll have you know. Look—” He waves to Gareth as he passes by, drumsticks twirling in his hands. “Delete the apps. Take a break. Isn’t there some quote about happiness? That Nathaniel Hawthorne one. You know, the ‘happiness is a butterfly’ one you used in a paper back in school.”

“One, I can’t believe you remember that.”

Your nose wrinkles at the thought of your teenage years. Of you with braces and he himself being the first person to welcome you to sit with him on your first day of school, snapping at Jason Carver when he’d brushed by you and thumped your shoulder a little too hard for his liking.

“And two, the quote is actually ‘happiness is like a butterfly, which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp. But, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.’”

“So stop chasing it. Just let it happen. C'est la vie. Carpe diem. Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?”

You don’t even bother letting him know none of those things mean what he thinks they do.

“Eddie.”

He loops his arm around your neck. Presses a kiss against your temple. You lean into his embrace, comfortable warmth that seeps into your bones and floods you with familiarity.

He’s hard lines against your softer edges. Inky tapestries of collected memories that tell a tale of his adventurous life on the forearm tangled in your hair. His ring-clad fingers delight in toying with the tips, hair shifting between digits like water.

Calming and soothing Eddie. A constant in your life since you were teenagers, now going on ten years of friendship later. Someone you’ve always been able to turn to at the end of the day; someone who never once questions your motives, even if he might suggest you try different methods to your lifestyle habits.

And now, your dating habits.

“I’m just saying it’s worth a try.”

-

Maybe you don’t stop right away. Maybe it takes a date with Joe, Jim and Jessica to realize the truth of Eddie’s words. Maybe there’s some weight to pushing it all aside, stepping out of the way of your own preconceived timeline, and allowing someone to walk in at the right place and time.

And on a night such as this, where Corroded Coffin are getting set up on stage and citizens are packing out the bar to see the increasingly popular band play, it’s easy to remember why swiping on your phone has brought you here. To asshole Andy Lerman standing before you while you work. Basketball coach at Hawkins High and douchebag royalty from what you remember of him back in your years of teenage angst and adolescence.

He’s had a few drinks now. You know because you’ve served him. But all they’ve done is instill courage in him to step over to the girl who people teased in school for being a “freak fucker” by merely being associated with Eddie, claiming time ‘really did wonders for you.’

He’s staring at your tits when he says it, and it takes everything in you to not toss his next drink in his face. But in a town where money is hard to come by, and there’s not much to do by way of work, bartending pays the bills, and you’re not about to mess up one of the few good gigs left.

“Andy, it’s really not going to work,” you tell him, “but here. Your last one of the night…on me.”

With a quick pat to his shoulder, you send him on his merry way with a fuller pocket and a story to warp when regaling his friends with the time he pity-invited the “freak fucker” on a date.

“Don’t look now, my lady, but Eddie Munson is staring at you,” Argyle says, working on mixing a margarita beside you for a patron.

“He’s not staring at me,” you retort, sliding a vodka soda across the bar, thanking your customer for the hefty tip they toss your way. At Argyle’s raised brow, you reiterate, “he’s not.”

“He’s always staring. That’s the look Eden gives me. You know, the look of someone in l—”

Argyle’s words are cut short as Eddie appears on the other side of the bar, bare elbows pressing against the counter, hair falling out of his ponytail, bangs long overdue for a cut shifting every time he blinks.

“Are you okay?” He asks, thanking Argyle as he passes him the beer he knows he prefers. At your arching brow, he continues, “I saw Andy Lerman flirting with you. You looked uncomfortable.”

You snort, getting to work on a moscow mule. “That’s because I was uncomfortable. But I took care of it. I appreciate you always looking out, though.”

He reaches over and grabs your chin. Gives your head a little wiggle until you’re grinning against his palm. Then reaches his fingers over toward you, rests them so gently against your curled palm resting on the bar and pauses. He waits a moment and closes his ringed fingers into a fist, knocking his knuckles against yours.

Then he’s off toward the stage to get ready, leaving you with a knot in your throat and warmth prickling against your skin.

Argyle passes you a knowing smile and before you can yell at him to get back to work, embarrassment roiling in your chest, he announces he’s going to take a quick break and call his wife.

His words spin in your head once more. Comparing Eddie’s gazes to Eden’s. To the nature of the depth in which he cares for you. But you shake your head free of it.

You’ve been unlucky in love.

It couldn’t be so simple.

-

Argyle’s words don’t change much in regards to your Eddie conundrum.

They’re a phantom in the back of your mind. Wispy tendrils of a memory that feels distant now.

Weeks pass, and the warm heat of summer in Hawkins turns to a sweltering hell on earth.

The Hideout becomes quieter most evenings. Those with air conditioning prefer to stay home, remain by their pools, to host gatherings where alcohol and coolers are plentiful.

And you don’t blame them, letting out a long huff as you wipe down the counter, while Argyle counts your tips.

“Oh, how was that date with…Paul, was it?” He muses thoughtfully, beginning to split the money.

“Not great.”

“You said that about the last three. What was wrong with this one?”

And that’s the thing. You sit across from these people, trying to force a square into a circle, trying to sparse out the qualities that they’re lacking.

Not funny enough. Not the right hair color. They lack that unruly smile. That glimmer of brightness in their amber eyes. There’s no dimple in Paul’s cheek. No banter on your date with Jeremiah. Caleb doesn’t like metal, and Kayla thinks D&D is a breeding ground for satanism (you’d thought that one was left in the 80s, but it appears not).

“He said Dio was overrated.”

“Interesting,” Argyle laughs, shaking his head.

You whirl around, damp bar towel flicking water his way. “What’s so interesting?”

“Just funny when two people are so obviously similar and don’t even see it,” he says, humming to himself, conversation over.

And that was that.

-

It’s funny, you think, that it only hits you then.

Like the flutter of butterfly wings on your flowerbeds you’d managed to stumble upon earlier that morning, the flicker of wings on a bird in the sky. The soft beating of both, like the constant thump of a heart in a chest.

A constant.

It’s the word everything hitches on as you sit on that work table in your garage, watching the man who stopped everything he was doing when you’d called earlier at the drop of a hat. All just to make sure you were okay.

That same person who is now up to his elbows in grease, fingers stained an oily black. With his hair pulled away from his face, you catch the determined line of his mouth, the jut of his tongue pushing lightly against pink lips. The corded lines of his arms move as he works, barest hint of stomach on display when he reaches up to slam the hood of your car down once it’s finished.

You toss him a towel, grinning at the shadowy form of him blocking the sun from your eyes. “Sorry you’re doing this instead of the movies.”

“Stop that. You know I’m happy to spend any time with you, sweetheart,” he laughs, wiping the planes of his face that are streaked like the fingers pressing against terry cloth to keep it in place. “Fixed the alternator and did an oil change. Seeing as you always forget anyway.”

He walks over slowly, grunting when your sandaled foot kicks him playfully in the kneecap. “That was why my car made that awful sound and shut off?”

“Exactly.” He curls the towel around his neck. “Day is still young. How about we—”

“Why’d you delete all your dating apps?”

The words fall from you in a rush. A swift exhale that has Eddie’s back drawn ramrod straight. Rigid, but not with anger. Instead, you watch that full mouth part just slightly. Like the words he had been about to say were lost to the wind, left to titter away into nothingness.

He swallows audibly, palm sliding over the towel across his neck. “I…just didn’t see the point in them.”

Determination hardens your resolve. Brings to attention Argyle’s teasing these weeks. The wondering, questioning, burgeoning curiosities brimming. So you utter a simple, “Why?” and try your damndest to ignore the nerves welling up in your chest at the fear of what comes next.

“Just kind of felt like I was using them to get over someone else,” he admits, taking a step closer.

Your bare knees brush the tops of his thighs. Warmth seeps into your skin, bristles at his touch.

Dark eyes drag along your form. Along the dress you wore that evening, covered in flowers, a thin thing that would have fluttered in the wind if you and Eddie had been able to do what you’d planned for the day. Simple drive to the lake to eat some lunch, share a joint and fish (a new hobby he'd picked up from his uncle), then movies at the theater when the sun had set.

You meet his stare. Remind yourself of those eyes that had been on you the whole time Andy had leaned over the bar just weeks ago. Ready at any moment to come to your aid, should you have needed it. He’s never pushed you, never crossed the boundaries of your friendship, trusted you knew best.

But he’d always been there if you ever needed a hand.

You only ever needed to reach out.

Always.

You swallow thickly. “Who?”

“Don’t make me tell you what you already know.”

It’s quiet. A plea for pity that has your heart clenching within your chest.

But it’s not scary.

It’s not frightening at all.

Dozens of memories flash behind your eyes.

Of teenage years, laughing in the cafeteria, trading snacks, sneaking off to the woods between classes to smoke. Of you in community college, and his van screeching through the parking lot to take you to lunch between classes. Of nights at his place, your place, the movies, around town. Of ice cream at Lover’s Lake with his van doors swung wide, trying to make out the shapes of the clouds in the sky.

Birthday parties, milestones, weddings, grieved losses.

To highs and lows and everything in between. To all those shitty dates, to his own failed dating escapades. To that time you had to ice his lip in the back of the Hideout when Jeff had accidentally elbowed him in the face, or when you’d fallen off Max’s skateboard and ripped open your shin and he’d had to hold your hand while he disinfected it.

To this very moment, where he’s just finished fixing your car. To him with his dirty palm tapping lightly against your kneecap, feet shifting awkwardly beneath him.

Your head tips up and you catch the downturn of his lips, frozen in time by your prolonged silence.

Argyle was right.

“What?”

You hadn’t realized you spoke out loud, but confusion swirls behind Eddie’s gaze all the same, mollified only when your hand snakes up around the back of his neck and drags him downward to your level. Only when you pour your affection into him where you’re finally, lovingly, connected at last.

The fullness of his mouth against the softness of yours is hesitant at first, like his brain needs a moment to catch up to his current reality, before he’s tipping your head up with his hand. Until his fingers slide across your cheek, cupping you gently, easing you closer to him.

Before long he’s gripping you closer. Deft fingers in the dough of your thighs, tugging you flush against him, skirt indecently high up on your hips. But you don’t care. Not as your ankles lock around his waist, nor as he hums into your throat while he leaves a sloven path along your skin, learning the sounds you make when he’s tender, sweet—when he scores his teeth against your pulse point and you melt like putty beneath his devotion filled fingertips.

Ten years. Ten years of watching that silly butterfly float away into the sky, only for it to have been there all along.

Only for it to have been the man with his forehead against yours, noses flush together, your fingers beneath his shirt and his around the bend of your kneecaps.

You’re not sure where you start and he ends, but even that incites a new thrill, a new world to explore further. A desire to know the depths of him beyond the limit of friendship.

“Argyle got to you too, huh?” At your nod, Eddie barks out a laugh. Kisses you softly. “Fuckin’ guy thinks he’s Cupid or something.”

“I don’t want to talk about Argyle right now.”

Eddie’s lips curl into a grin. The whites of his teeth flash in your gaze, your fingers trailing along his stubble-lined jaw.

“I don’t either.” His thumb comes to swipe at your cheek, dimple in his cheek twitching slightly. “Got you a little greasy. Just…ten years, you know? Got a little carried away.”

You nod, reaching out to lace your fingers with his. He watches as you hop down from the work table, brow arching curiously as you tug him toward the door leading into your home. “Well, like you said, we’ve got ten years to catch up on. So before I kiss you more, Edward Munson, we’re going to shower.”

“We?” He swallows, voice hoarse. “Like a two people conserving water shower?”

You enter the small laundry room, humming as his chest brushes your own, his weight just enough against yours to press you into the lip of your drying machine. Cool metal chills your skin at the open back of your dress, balanced by the heat of the knee that slides between your thighs to pin you in place. Your body both buzzes with life and oozes honey into your system as you melt into him, pliant under that smoldering dark gaze of your best friend in front of you.

“We,” you nod, grinning into his kiss. “After that we’re cuddling on the couch and ordering a pizza.”

“And tomorrow…I’m taking you on a date.”

-

🦋

[ofliterarynature]

TBR TAKEDOWN: Week 16 (September 15)

TLDR: I have too many unread books, and I’m asking tumblr to help me downsize. Pick one or none - it doesn't have to be something you've read, just the one you think sounds the worst! Comments and reblogs welcome, book descriptions below the cut. See my pinned post for more info.

AND - we've hit the "my library has this on audiobook" section of the tbr shelf, so you'll need to try extra hard to convince me on things now!

Axiom's End by Lindsay Ellis

Truth is a human right.

It's fall 2007. A well-timed leak has revealed that the US government might have engaged in first contact. Cora Sabino is doing everything she can to avoid the whole mess, since the force driving the controversy is her whistleblower father. Even though Cora hasn't spoken to him in years, his celebrity has caught the attention of the press, the Internet, the paparazzi, and the government--and with him in hiding, that attention is on her. She neither knows nor cares whether her father's leaks are a hoax, and wants nothing to do with him--until she learns just how deeply entrenched her family is in the cover-up, and that an extraterrestrial presence has been on Earth for decades.

Realizing the extent to which both she and the public have been lied to, she sets out to gather as much information as she can, and finds that the best way for her to uncover the truth is not as a whistleblower, but as an intermediary. The alien presence has been completely uncommunicative until she convinces one of them that she can act as their interpreter, becoming the first and only human vessel of communication. Their otherworldly connection will change everything she thought she knew about being human--and could unleash a force more sinister than she ever imagined.

Leah on the Offbeat by Becky Albertalli

When it comes to drumming, Leah Burke is usually on beat--but real life isn't always so rhythmic.

She's an anomaly in her friend group: the only child of a young, single mom, and her life is decidedly less privileged. She loves to draw but is too self-conscious to show it. And even though her mom knows she's bisexual, she hasn't mustered the courage to tell her friends--not even her openly gay BFF, Simon.

So Leah really doesn't know what to do when her rock-solid friend group starts to fracture in unexpected ways. With prom and college on the horizon, tensions are running high.

It's hard for Leah to strike the right note while the people she loves are fighting--especially when she realizes she might love one of them more than she ever intended.

Needlework by Julia Watts

In rural Kentucky, a sixteen-year-old boy with a love of quilting, cooking and Dolly Parton helps his grandma care for his opioid-addicted mother, until the discovery of a family secret upends everything he has ever believed.

While other sixteen-year-old boys in Morgan, Kentucky, love hunting and football, Kody prefers to spend his time quilting with his grandmother (“Nanny”), watching Golden Girls reruns, and listening to old Dolly Parton albums. Nanny is Kody’s main caregiver, but it takes both Nanny and Kody to take care of Kody’s mother, whose drug problem is spinning out of control. Between looking after Mommy and trying to survive in a place that doesn’t look kindly on feminine boys, Kody already has a hard time making sense of his life. But then he uncovers a family secret that will change everything in his life.

[ash-and-starlight]

Books of 2023

the list nobody asked for <3

My reading habits had gone a bit stagnant in the past couple of years so this year i made the effort to engage in reading again and wow books really are good!! who would have thought! Sharing this year's book log with the small reviews i did while reading yeah i am That kind of list lover if u feel like being nosy, (and maybe even help mi crowdsource reading recs based on my likes 👀🤲?)

The left Hand of Darkness - Ursula K. Le Guin Ursula i Need to know your thoughts on omegaver- [gunshot] THAT ASIDE yeah. mrs Le Guin you've done it again. I can see why everyone got their brain chemistry altered by this book.

The Membranes - Chi Ta-Wei another brain chemistry altering book. would love to discuss it with a gender studies major lmao

Satanic Verses - Salman Rushdie its a v atmospheric and poignant story, I know I would have loved it more if I was familiar with the rich religious/cultural background it draws from

The Masquerade Series - Seth Dickinson Crazy insane in the membrane about this series. one of the most compelling worldbuildings I've ever seen, and most importantly it features one of the most crazy wet pathetic scrunkly meow meow protagonists i've ever had the pleasure of reading about.

Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides i liked the writing style of this book a lot! idk how well it holds up re: intersexuality topic, but its a very engaging read.

Dead Blondes and Bad Mothers: Monstrosity, Patriarchy, and the Fear of Female Power - Jude Ellison, Sady Doyle The title says it all honestly, its a beautiful, thought provoking and engaging essay, spanning eras, pop culture phenomenons, and real life events on the topic of women and horror.

The cat who saved books - Sōsuke Natsukawa this was so cute and heartfelt, it will really make you go Ah Yes, this is Why we Love Books <333

The Locked Tomb Series - Tamsyn Muir now when people say there is a girl who is the cursed sacrifice of 2000 infants who falls in love with the sleeping embodiment of the soul of the Earth (barbie) and also another girl who is the only survivor of the aforementioned sacrifice and is. a Jesus metaphor? and also the two girls become one at some point. and every book is a different genre. and god is bisexual. and memes survived the nuclear apocalypse. I can just nod and say so true.

The Area X Trilogy - Jeff VanderMeer Rotating this series in the microwave of my mind at the speed of light it's soSO GOOD!! the movie doesn't even come close honestly u NEED to read the books. and then go touch grass and be aware of every strand in a completely new way.

The Dawn of Yangchen - F. C. Yee nice read! I was more invested in the worldbuilding crumbs than in the actual story lmao, I will forever think about the HEATED airball rivalry between the air temples and about the swt greetings / bethrotal armbands.

Inuit Stories of Being and Rebirth: Gender, Shamanism, and the Third Sex - Bernard Saladin d'Anglure starting w a disclaimer bc I feel like the topic of native colonization was ignored when it should have been way more prominent when talking about the context of where and when these testimonies were collected?? That aside it was very interesting and well put together, with first account testimonies of Inuit elders about their myths, lifestyles and beliefs.

Pachinko - Min Jin Lee i read the book after having seen the tv series (which i also rlly recommend). Very moving story about a family and its generations, from Korea under Japanese colonization to modern day America.

Her body and other parties - Carmen Maria Marchado sometimes I go about my day then I remember this book exists and stare at the wall for 30 minutes.

Dictionnaire de l'impossible - Didier Van Cauwelaert big miss. this collection of articles about "strange impossible phenomenons" sounded so quirky and interesting but i sure would have loved if the author hadnt so clearly picked a side. and also way too much church for my tastes.

He who Drowned the World - Shelley Parker Chan Im not even gonna speak about this one if you've followed me since july you know what pits of insanity and despair i'm in

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow - Gabrielle Zevin Sometimes!! the book with pretty covers put in the "famous on socials" bookstore section!! are good!! It's about being othered it's about connection it's about diaspora it's about love and friendship and most of all it's about viddy games.

Station Eleven - Emily St. John Mandel reading this post-covid and learning it was written in 2017 was A TRIP. Psychic damage at every page. still feeling very normla.

The Mask of Apollo - Mary Renault Ugh i desperately wanted to like this book because the setup is so interesting and full of potential, but the end result was just. flat. flat story flat characters the plot focusing on the wrong things at the wrong times i was so DONE when i reached the end otz.

Babel - R. F. Kuang LOVED the worldbuilding in this, the "lost in translation" system of magic is one of the most interesting things ive ever read. I think theres something about the writing in general that didn't win me over completely?? but all in all a very good

Red Ocean - Han Song This sure is a Book. That i've Read. its so profundly strange and unlike anything ive come across that i dont even know what to feel about it. i think 90% of my confusion comes from Not Getting Cultural References so if someone has a "red ocean explained" essay plz send it my way bc i couldnt find one.

[berenwrites]

Revelation - Stranger Things - Steddie - G

Rating: G | cw: none | tags: pre-steddie, bisexual steve harrington

Prompt: Love is being terrified but not letting that stop you from taking a leap (@unclewaynemunson)

A/N: Written for @steddielovemonth day 3. Missed day 2 because I was too busy, so I didn’t get it finished, but here it goes for day 3.

Also on AO3 | All my other Stranger Things Fic

Revelation :A Heart-stopping Reality

It was not a day for revelations. It was a day for relaxing in the sun with friends and letting the world go by. Steve was not prepared for anything else.

He had been sitting on a sun lounger watching Nancy dunking Jonathan in the pool while Eddie and Argyle sat on the side talking about something when it had hit him. All he’d been doing was comparing Eddie’s scars to his own in his head, thinking about how they matched in a couple of places. A perfectly innocent thought.

At least it had started that way.

He’d started wondering if Eddie’s scars were as sensitive as his own, what they would feel like under his fingers. What it would feel like to have Eddie touch his.

And now here he was sitting on his bathroom floor trying not to freak out.

“Steve, what’s wrong?”

Robin had to be standing in his bedroom. He’d managed to make it into the house without drawing much attention to himself, but she had been in the kitchen and, of course, she’d clocked him straight away. He’d made a dash for the stairs, but she’d clearly followed him.

“Steve, I don’t like it when you go quiet.”

She really did sound worried.

“You can come in,” he said, even as he mentally flailed.

Robin stepped into the bathroom, took one look at him, and immediately closed the door behind her again. Without a word she crossed the distance between them and sat down right next to him.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked.

It wasn’t demanding, just a question, and he felt something tight release a little in his chest. This was Robin, the person he told everything to. The person who told him everything too. The person he could embarrass by saying the word ‘boobies’, but who asked him to help her pick out her outfit, including underwear, for her first date with Vickie. The only reason Vickie wasn’t at his house today was because she had been dragged on vacation by her parents.

He took a deep breath. It was supposed to be calming, but it didn’t help that much.

“I think,” he started to say and stopped for a few moments. “I think,” he began again, “I might have a thing for Eddie.”

His heart hammered as he said it out loud and for the first time, he really appreciated how brave Robin had been in that bathroom in Starcourt mall. He knew Robin, she was his platonic soulmate, and admitting what he was thinking out loud was terrifying. They had only been work colleagues who had become begrudging friends when she came out to him. How she had had the courage, he couldn’t comprehend.

“Our Eddie?” Robin checked as if she didn’t quite believe what she had heard. “Hyperactive metal head, pariah turned hero of this town. That Eddie?”

He nodded.

“I wondered how his scars feel and what it would feel like if he touched mine and then it hit me that I’ve been thinking things like that a lot lately,” he admitted quietly, “and maybe I want to kiss him too.”

“And how does that make you feel?” Robin asked, reaching out and taking his hand.

“Terrified,” he said as his stomach flip-flopped yet again. “Have I been lying to myself my whole life?”

She squeezed his fingers gently.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said, leaning in close. “You know it’s okay to have a thing for girls and boys, right?”

Little rivulets of cold shock lanced through his chest.

“What?” was the best he could do.

“Remember I told you about Bowie, how he identified as bisexual?” Robin said.

“That time I had the really bad nightmare and you biked over?” he asked, because he vaguely remembered the conversation.

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “That’s what bisexual means, liking boy and girls. Did I not explain it properly. God I am such a bad queer.”

“You probably did,” he interrupted her, before she could berate herself too much, “but I was running on about two hours sleep in three days. I probably missed it.”

He’d had a bit of a rough patch around Halloween the previous year. Too many memories and too many changes going on around him. It had brought all the nightmares back.

“And I just rambled at you,” Robin said, looking down.

“I love it when you ramble,” he assured her. “Helps get me out of my head. So, bisexual?”

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’.

“But I’ve never…” he started to say. “At least I don’t think I have. Eddie is the first.”

“Bisexuals don’t have to like girls and boys equally,” Robin explained. “Maybe Eddie just pushes your buttons. I mean I’m not saying you have a type, but dark curly hair, big expressive eyes definitely do it for you. There’s Nancy for one, and you’ve only been even vaguely serious about one person since last summer and that was Melanie, who also had dark curls and big brown eyes. Or maybe it’s the whole you carried him out of hell thing that’s woken up that side of you. Just believe me when I say, there’s nothing wrong with what you are feeling.”

Steve took a shuddering breath. He had really needed to hear that.

“So, how do you feel now?” Robin asked after a few moments.

“Still terrified,” he admitted, but managed to give her a small smile, “but maybe a little better.”

“And what do you want to do now?” she asked. “Do you want to freak out a bit more up here? Do you want to go back down? I can kick them all out if you need space.”

He drew in another deep, stuttering breath as he considered her words.

“I think,” he said eventually, “I want to go down there and kiss him senseless until he doesn’t know what hit him.”

Robin blinked at him.

“Actually,” she said after a moment, “that is a very you reaction. Just maybe, ask first, yeah?”

“You think he’ll say yes?” he asked, stomach twisting yet again.

“Given the way he watches your ass, I think you might have a chance,” Robin replied. “I mean on an aesthetic level you do have a great ass, so there’s a small possibility it’s just hypnotising, but I’m more on the he wants a piece of that side of the fence.”

“You’re not joking?” Steve checked.

“About something this important, I would never,” Robin assured him in her most serious tone.

“Do you think he’s bisexual too?” Steve asked.

“Could be gay,” Robin pointed out.

“No, we’ve talked about girls,” he said, “and I don’t think he’d be that great an actor when he’s high.”

“Then could be,” Robin agreed, “but you do remember you have three other people down there, right?”

He did, so he nodded. That actually helped in a bizarre sort of way. Now he needed a plan to get Eddie alone, which gave him something else to think about. There was the gut-wrenching possibility that Eddie would reject him, after all he didn’t have the best track record with relationships even if Eddie did swing that way, but now he had a glimmer of hope. It was enough to cut a small path through the almost overwhelming fear.

It would hurt if Eddie did turn him down because he was all too aware his heart was already in this. It’s what made it quite so frightening. He hadn’t even realised he was falling, but he was self-aware enough to know he was way past a simple crush.

Maybe someone else would have taken the time to think it all through, but Steve wasn’t really a thinker, he was a doer. He knew only too well, if he wasn’t careful, he could think himself into a hole that was very difficult to climb out of, so he tended to act first, over-think later. He’d been terrified for a good percentage of his life since 1983. This was a different kind of fear, but he hadn’t let the first one stop him, so this one wasn’t going to either.

“Thanks, Robs,” he said, doing his best to give her the patented Harrington smile.

He could tell she saw straight through it, but she smiled back anyway.

“Go get ‘im, Tiger,” were her words of wisdom.

All my other Stranger Things Fic

[thebeautysurrounds]

I’ve been thinking a lot about how people’s reactions to certain queer shows and something I think we need to examine how we treat more ‘dark’ and ‘emotional’ shows versus more ‘happy’ shows in this case I’m gonna be talking about the “debate” between Young Royals and Heartstopper.

Firstly these shows exist in two different lanes, and draw in two different audiences and potential age ranges, in my opinion, Young Royals is for older teenagers (think juniors or seniors or someone who is about to graduate high school and is going into college) while Heartstopper is geared towards those who are just starting high school or in the middle of it and is in that transitional period of their lives. Obviously, if you are not in these age ranges you can still consume and enjoy these shows, But I want to discuss how people act like they both can’t exist and you can’t like both or both shows existing for a reason. I’ve never really been a fan of punching down or belittling queer media (unless it’s harmful) Queer media in all forms is still lacking (especially those mediums centering WLW relationships). That being said the debate of which show is better is honestly so tired.

For people who say Young Royals is so much better (don’t get me wrong it is an amazing show and by all means like whatever you want) but liking it more because it’s “darker and more realistic” compared to Heartstopper which is "much happier" and "unrealistic," To me is so disingenuous because firstly so what? campy shows that feature queer characters deserve to be unrealistic, What's wrong with being unrealistic? Queer media has been subject to the Burry Your Gays narrative for decades or extremely unhealthy tropes and storylines so what's so wrong with having storylines and shows that are unrealistic or extremely happy? (even though the themes in Heartstopper are realistic).

Have you thought about how that may be an intentional choice? Now bare with me here this may be my over-analytic brain at work but Heartstopper has more or less some of the same themes as Young Royals just shot in a very vibrant and colorful manner to showcase how happy and colorful young love is BUT if you actually have watched the show or read the graphic novels you would know the show and graphic novels cover some heavy themes.

SPOILERS AFTER THIS POINT……

I want you to keep the song Pumped up Kicks by Foster the People in mind throughout this...I have a point I promise. Heartstopper is shot in a very poppy colorful way and in my opinion, symbolizes how when you’re young and in love everything feels warm, colorful, and vibrant. While Young Royals doesn't utilize this cinematic style they do use some form of vibrancy to convey tone and emotion. In Young Royals many of the scenes featuring Simon and Willhem's 'good moments' feature the sun especially shining on Simon when Willie is looking at him or whenever they are just in each other's company, this is especially prominent in the last scenes of the last two episodes of season 3.

So while people's criticisms of Heartstopper can be warranted (not saying you can't dislike the show) the comments that it's just so bubbly and bright just aren't true. The last season of Heartstopper saw multiple characters go through traumatic situations and it has been building up that way from the very first scenes in the first season of the show (but for the sake of time I'm only going to discuss both main characters in the two shows) Charlie not only is still struggling with being outed but is also battling with an eating disorder, this is foreshadowed throughout the first two seasons leading up to its inevitable blatant reveal when he is at dinner with Nick and his family where Nick starts to piece together why he is never hungry, passed out on the Paris trip and never finishes his food, which leads his to eventually research the signs of an ED. Nick is also still figuring himself out when it comes to his Bisexuality, while also dealing with the feelings of, feeling abandoned by his father, and having to reckon with the fact his brother is not supportive and dismissive of his sexuality and relationship.

Now before I said keep Pumped Up Kicks in mind that's because while this song has an upbeat, catchy tempo the song actually has a really dark undertone and meaning. So while Heartstopper is shot in a very vibrant colorway most of its characters and content of the show deal with dark themes and it's not all just a happy love story, and if the script for the next season follows the graphic novel closely, then we will see the characters go through even more challenges which also falls inline with the "darker" more emotionally message of the show. So to end this so it doesn't become a dissertation, both shows more or less have the same themes they just exist in two different lanes, I don't know why exactly people are fighting for one to be more valid than the other. When both can exist and be impactful to both or each audience, more queer shows need to exist where the characters are just happy and in love and I need y'all to unpack why you view more doom and gloom (for a lack of a better word) queer shows or movies are more valid than ones where the characters are just happy and have relatively in some aspects great experience when it comes to young love and figuring out one's identity. Sepreatlty why do you want these characters to suffer to find love? Why do characters have to go through something traumatic for their identity to be more valid and for you to relate and want to root for it more versus the latter?

Anyway, this was longer than I intended it to be but I just had to get my thoughts out there. TL;DR: Heartstopper and Young Royals are two great shows and if you think one is better than the other cause it has darker themes you are missing the point or probably objectively missed the dark undertones of the show, and one isn't more valuable than the other.

[fairytail-whathesays]

Hello! I don't know if xreaders are still open but, I'm so curious what your take on a Sting x ftm!reader would be! Mainly sfw but nsfw is fine, too.

I love your headcanons so much, you really manage to portrait everyone's character so well! So thank you <3

So guess what finally reached 100 notes?

You probably thought I forgot about this ask, or didn't receive it, right? Wrong! Time to keep my promise!

Sting is like the anti-dysphoria fairy. I think out of every possible boyfriend option in the series, he'd be the best at this sort of thing. You think he wears that fur-lined crop top and those elbow-length gloves because he likes gender conformity? Lmao. Sting not only is a hype man by nature, he loves your masculinity, your male-ness, and encourages it and your expression of it however you choose. You want tips on serving pure "dude" or just affirmation? He's the one you go to.

See, if Rogue were your boyfriend, he'd be the type to respond to you being addressed with the wrong pronoun by just talking about you casually and using the correct pronoun without drawing attention to it. Not Sting--he loudly and pointedly corrects people the second they make that mistake, just because he knows people don't be paying no fuccin attention half the time. It's embarrassing at first because of how gung-ho he is about it but it's something you end up liking about him.

Sting is the type of bisexual dude to call himself gay at literally every opportunity and endorse anything that allows him to feel more gay. At first you think he's constantly referring to you as his boyfriend in public to make you feel good--then you realize he just really really likes letting people know he got himself a man.

If you don't know your best angles, Sting will find them for you. He's very much an Instagram bf, always taking pictures, even when you're just doing nothing sitting there drinking coffee. His phone is chock full of you and yes, you're his lock screen.

Do you have a name you like yet? Don't get it twisted, if you've already got all your manly gameplans in order, it's all good, but if you start dating him while transitioning, he will have endless recommendations as to your new name. You're dating a guy named Sting Eucliffe, after all.

Sting does not dim his light to keep pace with anyone, he emphasizes his partner's qualities as best he can. Even if you're the shy type by nature, like Rogue, you'll find that Sting never overpowers your presence in a room. Remember what I said about automatically being the hot person x hot person couple? Even if you start out known to peers as "Sting Eucliffe's boyfriend", it doesn't stay that way for long.

He does, perhaps, simp a bit. He's not wound around your finger, but you can get him to bend to your will a little more easily than other people around him.

NS/FW:

Regardless of what you're packing downstairs (or upstairs) you're good to go. If, however, you got some parts switched up, be prepared to spend a lot more time with Sting in Slut Mode--he loves to bottom. Even if you choose the strap-on route, he's happy either way.

Sting is so freaking good at oral, like, who the hell gave him permission??? It's ego, it's pride. You don't ask to have your eyes roll back in your head, he does it because he wants to.

Wear his clothes. Trust, you'll look good in them. And Sting looks good naked, win-win.

[coal15]

ALL OF THIS LONGASS POST IS JUST MY OPINION. I REPEAT, JUST MY OPINION:

Remember when 90% of the fandom shipped Buck with Eddie, or if not, at least hc bi Buck and/or gay Eddie? We were basically a united queer front. And now that Buck's bi narrative is being told through the lens of a romantic connection to another dude some viewers are gravitating toward that romance. Which I personally don't see as them gravitating away from the depth or importance of Buddie's relationship, it's just that another romantic queer option has been presented and it's drawing some fans. Why not? And it's simply not possible for Bucktommy shippers to be "betraying Buddie" because it's a freakin' ship, not a religion. They've just developed a new ship preference for their own reasons, and that's fine. (or enjoying things as they are for the moment which is also fine).

And I think the reason Tommy/Lou/Bucktommy has thrived and become popular when previous love interests didn't goes deeper than "those girls are getting in the way of our ship." At least not directly. It's that even bringing in those women in was always a sad attempt at "romances" when the network knew damn well the bulk of fandom wanted to see a queer narrative for them with or without Buddie (yes Buddie was the driving interest, but still, it was a bigger issue than that or at least I thought so) The audience preference was clear so the only reason for FOX to keep insisting on female love interests with not a breath of the words gay or bisexual beyond "wink-nudge jokes" was to aggressively tell us THEY'RE CLOSE BROS, YOUR SHIP IS JUST CLOSE BROS FOREVER AND EVER SO START SHIPPING THEM WITH THEIR GIRLFRIENDS RIGHT NOW! OH YOU DON'T LIKE THOSE GIRLFRIENDS? OKAY, HOW ABOUT THESE ONES?

That shit immediately put a sour taste in my mouth. And FOX would have kept the cycle going forever, sending in a revolving door of girlfriends whilst we continued to insist on seeing the clearly more meaningful and important queer narrative onscreen. So while I do ship Buck + Happiness at the end of the day, queer rep was important enough to me that the only girlfriend I would have accepted or welcomed would have needed to be bisexual (or pan, or demi, something) to wake him up to his queer identity beyond just being another shallow (comphet) love interest.

Tommy being the character to wake Buck to his queer identity automatically makes him more meaningful and important in the narrative than Buck's girlfriends. If I was placing bets I'd still put my money on Buddie as the probable endgame, that's just me, but there are good reasons why previous love interests were pushed off the show by fan rejection (some of which had to do with problematic actresses *cough*honorary latina*cough*) and why Tommy/Lou/Bucktommy is being embraced by so many.

****caveat: I don't mean to imply that there weren't some buddie fans coming from a place of misogyny when ripping apart past female love interests, I just think for the most part that criticism was a wild oversimplification, painting our whole fandom with the same ugly brush in order to invalidate our very valid pro-buddie (at least or pro-queer Buck and/or Eddie) arguments.

[dapandapod]

Good morning panda brain!

So!

Jaskier helps Geralt through his bisexual awakening.

Geralt knew people can like both. Triss and yen are know to take lovers from any gender and he has never thought twice about it.

Until he realizes Jaskier does too.

And Geralt tries to work through it by himself, mulling it over, trying to figure out if it is *just* the bard he is attracted to, or other men too?

But he finds he get confused and frustrated because it is hard to identify feelings, even more so if they are his own? So one day/eve/ something he asks Jask for help, because he is the safest one he knows to ask.

(There might also be a hint of self sabotaging afoot but he doesn’t realize that)

“How do you know?”

“Know what?”

“If you like both?”

And then Jaskier asks a series of questions (he makes sure Geralt is alright or if he doesn’t have an awnser/want to say it, that Geralt doesn’t have to say but he should think about it) about what makes Geralt notice a person, draws him in.

In the end they say something in the lines of;

“It is fine to experiment. Just try not to do that with the subject of your affection.” And then after a while “I could help you..”

And before Geralt thinks of what the fuck he is saying, he blurts out something like;

“I was told not to experiment with the subject of my affection” something something.

And Jaskier goes all 😳😳😳 because ofc he hoped and dreamed and he too helped out in some self sacrificing thing in hope to make Geralt happy, even if it was with someone else, and now he gets this??

And then begins the circling around each other, because it would hurt if Geralt tried these feelings with someone else (and with the risk of him falling for that person) while being *told* he is the reason for this bisexual crisis/awakening.

But also it would hurt even more if they tried, if Jaskier opens that door and allows himself some room to feel all those suppressed feelings - but as an experiment, one that Geralt might find that no, he doesn’t feel that way, thanks for helping out - and closing the door again.

Buuut all goes as it usually does with Geralt - maybe they part for winter, Geralt on the way there thinks about every man he ever found hot, and maybe it is not many, but enough to feel like yeah, there is something there.

And then he spends the entire winter fantasizing about his bard, how it would feel to woo him, and finds that he likes it.

Come spring, maybe they re unite but there is something tense now between them, the fine line of pretending Geralt didn’t say he might fancy the bard, just to be able to keep going without throwing themselves at each other.

The bard never said anything back after all.

An out, if Geralt decides he doesn’t feel that way.

But then Geralt starts to try it out. Reaching for Jask’s hand, touching him more, smiling, maybe even flirting.

And eventually Jask has to ask, has to check that this is not an experiment, because Jaskier’s heart won’t be able to take it.

And Geralt sits quietly for a while, starting at the flames. Maybe they are in a room or maybe they are in the forest, but he sits quietly to think, and it is so very hard to bear.

And maybe Geralt decides that

“I may be inexperienced with this, and even if I have found I find other men attractive, it is towards you I am drawn. So if you would let me, I would try to make you think of only me, too” or something.

And he hopes Jaskier doesn’t mind inexperienced lovers, well. Geralt has been with people before, but he haven’t… loved them.

And he tells Jaskier that, he will make mistakes yes, but he is trying to learn, and he hopes, but if Jask wants nothing of it, he will stop. Clarifying stop trying to woo jask, not stopping to feel that way, about him and about men.

And maybe Jaskier needs to think about it.

Eventually Jaskier says that, he knows what it is like to have his heart broken. Expressing love is easy for him yes, but loving? *Loving* is hard. And it hurts like hell.

So he begs Geralt, begs him to take care. Because if they try this, there might be no going back. No place to return to, should this fail. He can’t guarantee he can heal should Geralt break his heart.

And they go forward with glacial speed, working to change the foundation, gently building trust and affection. They are apart for big stretches of the year, but reunifying has them growing closer.

Very little changes, but Jaskier notice how Geralt is looking at him. Keeps looking at him. Keeps reaching for him.

And eventually, when Jaskier dares believe this is not a passing thing, he reaches back.

They find themselves sleeping closer on purpose. They start wintering together, properly, and find themselves always in each other’s orbit.

They are in every sense a couple, but the physical one. And even if Geralt is the inexperienced one, he lets Jaskier set the pace.

And the bard works himself up to it. Hand holding becomes kisses on the hand. Kisses on the hand becomes kisses in the cheek. And one day, just after lunch at Corvo Bianco, Jaskier kisses him on the cheek, but remains close.

Geralt lets him, waiting and watching, until Jaskier presses a peck to his lips too. And then another one. And then before dinner, the dams are broken, and the peck turns into a kiss, a proper, lingering, earth shattering kiss.

And Geralt, the absolute ass, is murmuring against Jaskier’s lips, even as he is pressing Jaskier against the table, even as they are smiling and kisses, he says

“Have you been experimenting with the subject of your affection?”

“It seems that I am.”

“Some would deem that unwise.” Geralt says, kissing jask again. “What is your conclusion?”

It is a question in jest, he knows, but Jaskier studies Geralt’s face, holds his face with both hands as they become serious.

“That I love you.”

Which … has been a terrifying thought. Up til now, it has been the most frightening thing to carry.

But now? Now they are in each other’s arms, now they are on equal footing. Now it means the same thing for them both.

[last-ofthe-realones]

I need a place to yap ab my demon slayer ocs and I've chosen tumblr as my victim so get ready

Say hello to Kei Igarashi (born Kei Imamura) and Jun Igarashi. I'm gonna give a brief over view of their backstories as well as a few fun facts.

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

Without spoiling too much, this story begins with Kei being adopted by her aunt when she was an infant. Unfortunately, Keis aunt was alone in raising her as her husband was murdered shortly beforehand. Her and Kei lived together on a rice farm in peace, where Kei displayed signs of having an unusually high Iq and agility. One evening Kei's mother (her aunt) left her to watch the farmhouse while she investigated claims of demons living on their farm in secret. Unfortunately for Kei this would be the last time she sees her mother.

Kei spent several days attempting to maintain the farm in vain as she's only 7 years old at this time. One night Kei was woken up to a demon standing over her, watching her sleep. After a short scuffle, Kei ended up burning her home to the ground but ultimately overpowered by the demon. Moments before she was consumed, she was saved by a mysterious man with a sword.

This man was Tarō Igarashi, a demon slayer. Out of pity Tarō took Kei to his home, the Igarashi mansion where she met his wife and child, Momoe and Jun. Little did the Igarashi family know, Kei was carrying a disease that cause Momoe to fall ill. Shortly after Kei's arrival, Momoe succumbed to her illness and passed.

Tarō was so overcome with grief and fury that he threw Kei out of the mansion die in the wild. Or at least that's how it should have gone if he hadn't found Kei in the courtyard the next day gripping onto a hairpin so hard her hands began dripping blood. Kei explained that she dropped the hairpin after Tarō kicked her out and she snuck back in to get it. Tarō was so impressed with Kei breaking into their impenetrable mansion that he decided not only to let her stay, but that he was going to train her to become a demon slayer along with Jun.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

So if you didn't guess already, Kei is going to be my main focus of the story. Dont worry though I will give my boy Jun some love I just need to flesh out his character more.

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅. .⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

SO! FACTS TIME(^.^)

Since Jun and Kei were taught by Tarō, they both use smoke breathing which derives from Flame breathing. However, both of them have very different fighting styles and utilize their breathing forms differently

Jun is transgender (ftm) and bisexual w a male preference. Kei is a lesbian (I'm projecting)

Both Jun and Kei fight w 2 weapons. Kei uses one normal sized sword and one that is almost sawed in half(its closer in size to a dagger). Jun fights w 2 swords but they can be combined to form one large one. No I cannot draw so I can't provide an example.

My story takes place during the events of the demon slayer anime but they won't have much interactions w Tanjiro (as of right now)

Jun is 27 years old during at this point in the story and Kei is 25

Jun and Kei will be able to speak on this page! Ik there's not a lot of ppl following me but if you ask a question directed to either of them, they will answer in character!

Kei will always write in Orange and sign off with a♡. Jun will write in blue and sign off with☆.

Dont be afraid we won't bite!

Speak for yourself.

Well I won't bite..

DAMN this post was longer than I thought it'd be sorry there's so much. Unfortunately this only scrapes the surface of what I have in store for them but luckily for everyone I'm inconsistent and will probably write their lore in lil drabbles.

[mastermindmp3]

Guilty as Sin? addresses the idea of emotional cheating, about longing for someone outside their current relationship. The speaker describes being in bored in her relationship, and fantasizing about a guy that she is texting* while her lover likely does the same**.

*In my romantic pirate heart, they're pen pals paramours as opposed to texting troublemakers. He "sent" her Downtown Lights, which could easily be read as being sent a streaming link, but I want to believe he sent her a burned tape. **As I've previously said, The Tortured Poets Department is an album in conversation with itself. The mutual emotional infidelity is only really implied by the speaker's questioning her right to be upset within Guilty as Sin? but is made clearer in other places throughout the album. Whether you allow other songs to affect your reading of the song is wholly up to you..

Diversion aside, I think the song touches on this theme very well, and I trust my fellow Department members will provide insights on the song's preferred reading in today's meeting.

In the reception theory of reader responses, a preferred reading is the audience understanding and agreeing with the author's (or producer, or lyricist, etc. ) intended vision for their media. Reception theory also says that readers can take oppositional and negotiated readings. Oppositional readings reject the author's stance entirely, while a negotiated reading may agree in part or whole, but still have their own "take" on the media.

Guilty as Sin? is intended to be about emotional infidelity. For the past few days, I have been analyzing the songs through their preferred reading. Today, I would like to destroy all of that, and present to you my Oppositional Reading of Guilty as Sin?

I know, very well, that the reading I am about to present is not Swift's intent, and indeed, I may be a koi swimming against the river's current. This post is not meant to be me saying that the song is my reading. I am within opposition to the text.

(I guess that technically makes this a negotiated reading? semantics—)

I am about to commit the cardinal sin of reading queer themes into a straight author's work. Crucify me if you please, but do so with the context that I acknowledged that this reading is not "canonical," to continue being biblical about it.

To reiterate, because this is the "how dare you say we piss on the poor" website. I do not believe that my reading is the intended reading of Guilty as Sin?

So:

When reading queer themes into straight work, I feel it is impossible to not draw from personal experience. This post is about Guilty as Sin? but it is also about me. It is about what growing up queer in the rural American southeast is like. It's hard to detangle those things.

I present to the department: A case for Guilty as Sin? as a song of queer longing. Half analysis, half personal essay.

On the surface, I feel this reading can be very simple. When the whole refrain is how can I be guilty as sin? and hegemonic Christian society deems queer love, queer living as sinful, the connection doesn't feel like that hard of a jump. The song travels through its religious theming, through the shame, through hushing yourself with the idea that thoughts don't count. The speaker works through those pains and repressions, so that she can come to the revelation:

What if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

What initially got me thinking about this song in a gay way was one of the opening lyrics. ( Well, no, what initially got me thinking this was listening to it as I was writing fiction, but hush. )

This cage was once just fine.

As a bisexual woman, there was once a time where I really, truly, thought to myself that I would never come out. It was fine, to be honest. I still like men, so I just had to pray that my one big love was a man. That way, I could protect myself from my family’s imagined negative reactions. I don't think this is a unique experience, either. Particularly in the south, we hold ourselves in for the comfort of others, and our own safety.

I cannot speak for everyone, but I feel like that fear of rejection is common amongst the people I know. It leads to caging our feelings; locking bits of ourselves away from those who once knew us so closely, in order to preserve their original vision of us. As perfect, straight sons and daughters, as kids who would grow into the molds set forth. And for a while, we can hold together like this, the cage is fine. 

But parrots pluck their feathers when kept under lock and key, and so too do we. 

I dream of cracking locks, throwing my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks.

Doesn't it feel like that? The first time you consider telling a parent, or any loved one, that you're not what they imagined. Like you could be dashing your chances at life. The image brings to mind that of suicide, of a “I can no longer live like this.” People thrown to the rocks do not survive impact, and often are disfigured, beyond recognition. It's such a visceral image for a song filled with longing. 

This song is textually about emotional infidelity, obviously, but I think it can also be about the longing we hold for the "unallowed." How we can both feel such beautiful love and hideous shame about the same thoughts. Repression is a funny thing, to smother the want can only make it come back harder, stronger.

What if I roll the stone away? They're gonna crucify me anyways.

I said that the Christian imagery is part of what made me think of the song as queer, and I stand by it. A lot of queer art deals with the trauma of religion; the idea of being guilty for the way you simply are, for the way you feel, naturally, drives one to consider the opposite. What if our way of being is holy. I'm particularly brought to mind Fipsi Seilern’s Portrait of Virgin Xtravaganzah (and the portraiture's subject - Virgin X - by extension.)

The connection is not hard to make; masturbation, the song’s main premise, is seen as sinful, as is infidelity. And so, too, is being gay. They are shamed the same way in conservative Christian society, as if they are of the same level.

In a way, it's very Christian of me to take a religiously charged song about emotional infidelity and make it about same gender attraction. On the level of infractions to the Christian hegemony, same gender attraction may be worse, truly, than infidelity. That to touch another man or another woman is worse of a crime, than to betray the trust of your opposite gendered partner.

Y'know, as a kid, I used to get nosebleeds every time I entered my family's church. It was high in the mountains of Tennessee, and I was prone to them anyways. It was my first experience with the hemming and hawing of Christian southern women, tsk'ing at me. I think we stopped going when I was like, ten, partially because of it.

And I look back now, and think about all these things I have learned since then. The pain that Christian dogmatism, that bigotry has caused, to me and the communities I love so dearly. Still causes, in the name of saving our souls, or more likely, extermination.

And think about bleeding every time I crossed the threshold into holy ground.

Does that make us all guilty as sin?

Nah. Any guilt we feel is only a consequence of the spoon fed hatred, and certainly no fault of our own.

( It is interesting, that this reading absolves the narrator of the song, where the original text is more ambiguous as to the level of infraction that the Speaker has committed. The answer to "How can I be guilty as sin?" here is more clear, especially to this specific audience. Swift's modern demographics trend towards young, leftist, and AFAB. Additionally, there's probably a whole essay in that idea itself, how queer people are treated with the same ostracism as adulterers. Going further, why are these "sins," a state of being and a social infraction, grouped with far greater transgressions in the Christian consciousness. Were I not a Biology student, that idea alone would be an excellent thesis topic. )

A defense of the idea of Queering Straight Songs:

When my family drove up the mountain to church, I listened to my Fearless disc on a pink Sony brand CD player in the back seat. How often are our first imaginings of queer love to straight media? Through characters or through idealized versions of us or through the music we're allowed, we find ways to feel queer love like sidewalk dandelions. Some call them weeds, but we all know they're flowers, beautiful and beloved, capable of coming back year after year.

We live in an age where queer stories and queer art are so visible, where we can look at Queering the Map and see all the places we are. And will continue to be. And have always been.

I think, in a way, claiming this song about straight infidelity as queer longing is almost a full circle moment, for me. In a time where queer liberties are at risk, we are still so loud and visible. It's nice, in a way, that I don't have to do this.

There are so many wonderful songs about this same longing, about locking your feelings up and bottling them away, by queer artists, even in this same genre. I don't have to stretch to see myself in these songs. They're radio play, they're opening Coachella.

( Also, protect small queer art. Protect bad queer art, too, while we're at it. We are so lucky that so much of queer lives are available at our fingertips, but without archival and protection, it can also be lost. )

I wouldn't say queer people are braver than we've ever been - that's a disservice to the people before us. We have ages of proof that this music, this art, has existed, and repressing it cannot stop it. We aren't any braver than our ancestors, just more widely seen, and more widely heard. Queer music, thanks to the internet, and thanks to wide, social pressure, is louder than ever.

But that doesn't mean we still can't queer the straight music we love too. This entire post (essay, can I call it an essay?) is about reception theory and seeing yourself in the other's work. It's a time honored tradition to make a song about yourself, to make it gay - I played Lover on violin at a lesbian couple's wedding, and my uncles danced at their wedding to Endless Love by Diana Ross.

I leave you with a final story, based on my favorite lyric.

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh, only in my mind?

This line, in particular, made me feel many things, a rush of nostalgia and warmth. I've claimed many celebrities to be my bi awakening, but the first time I remember being attracted to a girl was at the Speak Now tour. She was a bit older than me, maybe 14, and sat across the aisle. Mid-show, she helped me write my favorite lyrics on my arm in the pitch black of Bridgestone Arena. I had seen the lyrics on Taylor's arm and got so excited about the idea, but my mother didn't have a sharpie. She did. In sort of loopy handwriting, she put, "You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter" down my right arm.

With purple glitter glinting off tanned, grinning cheeks, with her Speak Now glowstick hovering over my arm, I don't remember her name, or even if I asked for it. But she was so kind, crinkling eyes black as obsidian, twinkling the stage lights in their reflection, and made me realize exactly why that lyric resonated with me so deeply. How it was what I wanted to be in the future.

And I could see my future with her, or him, or them. And it is impossible to untangle Swift's music from that.

It's all empathy, all the way down. The kind of empathy that, I am not sorry to be corny and say it, Taylor Swift's music begs you to have. To take these songs that are very much written from her perspective, and see our own experiences mirrored through them, that's what her music asks. To see that we are not all that different, and to connect. How rare and mundane human connection, how we rip out our souls to achieve it. Swift's talked about it extensively, the catharsis of spilling ink, putting pen to paper and voice to recording all in effort to be seen.

I think that's the big motif: I feel seen by Guilty as Sin?, I felt seen back then listening to these CDs. That's the sorcery of storytelling. As an adult, who is so comfortable in her bisexuality that I flaunt it, I still like to do these oppositional readings, to see myself in songs not made about me.

And that's why Guilty as Sin? is, to me, a queer longing kind of song. Even if it isn't.

[skatingbi]

While taking a mandatory study break I give you all my One Piece headcanons that may change bc im still on the fishman island arc

Luffy is autistic (as a fellow autistic person i just feel it in my bones)

Sanji with heterochromia and freckles :)

I love and appreciate trans zoro and sanji. Transfem sanji has my heart but so does transmasc sanji. Zoro being transmasc is also great!

Nami is lesbian <3 (Her and vivi are so cute man i miss them together)

Bisexual Sanji also has my heart in a vice grip

all the strawhats should have had PTSD symptoms after literally everything but for the sake of simplicity I believe Luffy, Nami and Sanji have PTSD

I see a lot of images of zoro with grey, black, or silver eyes. I even saw a drawing oda made where he has like pinkish eyes but i like the thought of zoro with gold/yellow eyes :)

Zoro, Mihawk, and perona are like an adoptive family

Chopper and Zoro are also like siblings and chopper looks up to him

Usopp having a sketchbook full of plants he sees throughout their travels, with their names n everything :)

Robin and Zoro are friends and they sometimes hang out with robin reading while zoro takes a nap

Brook has made at least one song for each crew member to match their general vibes

Robin makes shadow puppets for chopper and luffy during calm nights out at sea and theyre both super into it and give out elaborate prompts and stories to act out

The strawhats being super chill with platonic affection in some form bc luffy is clingy but in an anxious kinda way

Sometimes I wonder if zoro and luffy learned how to read, maybe zoro did at his home town, but robin would teach luffy how to read if he didnt know how to very well

franky egging usopp on when hes telling his elaborate stories and making them even more ridiciulous but everyone is too entertained to really stop them

zoro's scarred eye is only partially blind but he prefers to keep it closed anyways

The scar nami gave herself is still visible under her tattoo, but it doesnt bother her since she thinks its now kinda badass

[soulofapatrick]

Love at Half Naked - Eddie Diaz (NSFW)

Y/N’s POV: 

Upon entering the Diaz home (after throwing my shoes aside) with one of the spare keys Eddie gave me and Buck I don’t expect to see Eddie in the living room dancing... in only his boxers... tight boxers. All I can do is stare as the small layer of sweat that shines against his olive skin and the curves of his toned body move so goddamn smoothly. 

The slamming of the front door makes us both jump as it slips from my grip. Eddie turning around and his eyes falling to my hips rather than meeting my gaze draws my own attention to the fact that just watching Eddie for the last few minutes has left me with a problem of my own.

“Oh- oh god!” I spin away from the practically naked firefighter, covering the rock hard bulge in my trackies with a face flushed so red I wouldn’t be surprised if my face just explodes there and then. I need to leave but I can’t, not like this, not in public —

“Y/N?” Eddie’s voice is soft but there’s something else there than hitches the breath in my throat, especially when he places a hand on my hip to turn me around instead of my shoulder, “Hey,”

“H-hi!” I can’t stop the stutter or the enthusiasm but it just makes Eddie smiles sweetly at me and I’m just gone. I am head over heels in love with this smoking hot and straight god before me. 

“I’ll take the compliments but I’m bisexual, not straight.” He tells me. I said that out loud?! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I can’t look at him but I can’t turn away either as his hand is still on my hip, hot and steady, so I just keep my head down. That plan fails because a finger hooks under my chin and suddenly I’m staring into hazel eyes that are usually on the side of warm honey and leaves in summer but now... Now they’re a darker colour, mostly filled brown and oh god. He’s speaking, saying words I never thought I’d hear but I can’t hear them over the shock: “I’m head over heels in love with you too.” 

“Kiss me?” I choke out and Eddie does not need to be told twice as I’m being backed up into the kitchen island with both of his hands now on my hips and his lips against mine. The first touch of his firm lips against mine was like all those cliche love stories but then again it wasn’t. No fireworks or people cheering, just the feeling of Eddie and his tongue brushing over my lips. It’s sloppy and messy but nonetheless hot and I never want it to end. Damn humans and needing oxygen.

Neither of us need to say a word, knowing what we want, and Eddie is lifting me up with ease as he makes his way to his bedroom. I don’t think, just act as his neck is on display and it’s too bare for my liking. He shivers beneath me, tilting his head to expose more of his neck as I nip and suck at the skin, tongue lapping over to soothe the now forming hickey. 

A shriek is torn from my lips as I’m unceremoniously thrown on the bed, the firefighter tugging impatiently at my trackies so I just raise my hips for him to do the honours. His cognac eyes meet mine, a question hidden behind the want and I nod because yes, yes I want all of him. I want all Eddie has to give, “I want you.” I choke out and that’s all he needs to have my trackies on the floor.

The moan that escapes his lips as he realised I went commando makes my dick twitch and I swear the usually innocent man is practically drooling right now. I’m ripping my shirt over my head as Eddie kicks off his boxers leaving us naked and exposed. All that heat of the moment confident begins to evaporate and I’m closing my legs as he’s watching me, want pouring from him. 

His eyes soften as he pulls me to the edge of the bed, kneeling and gently pulling my knees apart while looking up at me between his lashes. He surprises me when he begins pressing soft and loving kisses to the insides of my freckled thighs, making love his way up from my knees and towards the curls. 

The first feel of his tongue sends a bolt of electricity up my spine but I don’t have time to revel in how good it feels before Eddie is swallowing me down whole, gagging slightly when I hit the back of his throat. It sends my head flying back at the tightness of his throat before he sets a steady rhythm. It’s beautiful and I don’t know what to do with myself, I’m paralysed just laying there as one hand grips the bedsheets for dear life while the other tangles through Eddie hair, pulling. I accidentally pull on his curls and oh god, the way his moans vibrate up my dick to that very tight pleasure beginning to pool in the pit of my stomach. It takes everything in me to hold on just a bit longer because oh he’s beautiful. 

Eddie meets my gaze as I pull myself up onto one elbow, finally registering how tightly he’s gripping my hips and knowing there’s going to b bruising in the morning. But that’s nothing compared to the way his red and swollen lips swallow my dick with drag of his tongue which swirls around the sensitive tip every pull back. Just seeing all of this sends me over the edge, that tight knot in my stomach snapping and I’m tightening my grip on his hair, head falling back as I feel myself shooting down the back of his throat with a low whine of his name. He continues sucking me off until I’m pushing him away, slowly becoming sensitive. 

“Do you... do you want me to-“ I’m cut off when Eddie stands up, cum splattered across his chest and dick softening already, “Oh.” It knocks the rest of the air from my lungs but I don’t care because I’m yanking Eddie on top of my and kissing those red and swollen lips with urgency. He chuckles, kissing me back with a newfound gentleness.

“Let me get cleaned up then we can sleep, okay beautiful.” He whispers and I can’t stop the sound escaping my throat at how wrecked he sounds, his voice coming out scratchy. I just nod and follow his ass out the room as he heads for the bathroom down the hall. Once he’s out of sight I slip under the warm duvet, burrowing in it as it smells of Eddie. All I think of is Eddie as my eyes begin to get heavy. No I have to wait for him to get back. 

It’s a few minutes before the bed dips and arms wrap around me, pulling me against the safeness that I know is Eddie. A kiss falls against the back of my neck before I’m losing consciousness. 

———

“OH MY GOD!” I’m woken with a start, screaming, until I see Buck stood in the doorway, mouth dropped open in shock. Beside me Eddie groans at the commotion 

“Oh my god!” I shriek back, pulling the duvet over my exposed and naked chest when I realise I’m naked in Eddie’s bed with an also naked Eddie and Buck is standing in the doorway. 

“Buck?” Christopher’s voice calls with concern and the familiar click-clack of his crutches has Buck springing into action. He slams the bedroom door shut just as Christopher begins to appear and I don’t hear what he tells Eddie’s son but their muffled voices fade as I guess Buck takes him to the kitchen. 

“Baby?” Eddie’s sleep filled voice breaks through my panic and I smile down at him to be met with such a loving smile in return I think my heart stops for a second. However I can’t stop the choked laugh as Eddie’s voice sounds just as hoarse and wrecked as it did last night. It honestly turns me on a little but the thought of Buck and Christopher just down the hall in the kitchen stems any thoughts like that, “Was that Buck?” 

“He’s making breakfast with Christopher.” I nod and finally Eddie gets on board with my panic. 

He sits bolt upright, looking around before he stops as our gazes catch. He can see the pure terror in my own eyes because grabs my face in his hands gently and tells me softly, “We don’t have to anyone yet. Well, besides Buck. We don’t even have to tell Christopher yet,” He kisses me sweetly, “All I really know at the moment is I want you and I will do anything to have you.” 

“I-I want you too,” I whisper, not being able to help it when my cheeks flush bright red, “I’ve wanted you for a long time Eds.” 

He doesn’t reply, just gives me soft and heartfelt kiss before climbing out of bed. I can’t help the face my eyes gravitate to his v-line because this man is fine as hell.