#for every gay they tried to bury another two come out

[the-rainbow-meme]

supernatural has always been meta but the post-show experience keeps getting more and more intense and I'm not even sure it's all haha funny anymore.

started in 2005 as a manly american man show and ended as the gay and homophobic show and ever since its been getting gayer and gayer.

the show ended 4 years ago. i really don't know what could potentially happen next

[froznwater]

post WT Alenaoh drabble

Alejandro wins World Tour and now not only does his family treat him poorly, but so does the rest of the world. Even Heather gets her bit of redemption after being "used by the evil Alejandro." But none of the shows fans like him. They can admit he was smart, yes, but ultimately someone able to play with that many peoples hearts is not a good person. Twitter trends with phrases like 'rigged', 'not my tdw', and 'slippery eel' for weeks after his victory. His phone number gets leaked, bombarded with hateful messages, and his car gets keyed during the ten minutes he takes to run into his local mall to pick up a gift for his mother on her birthday. Tiktok makes 'plot twist' edits of him. Where it begins with him, but ultimately switches to another of his precious peers after they "shut him down" and the entire concept is just one big fuck Alejandro party in the comments. Hundreds- thousands of greasy idiots belittling him for their enjoyment. He doesn't even post on Instagram anymore. Too pussy to entirely turn off the comments and let the world think they've won, he just buries the app deep in a folder and leaves it untouched. Eel. Fake. Bop. I'm doing it, are you? How many letters in Alejandro? Is that oil I see? Noah = 8.

Some people even show up at his house. His father hires bodyguards and demands the police to patrol the area, but blames Alejandro for all of it. This is all your fault. You were too careless. You should have done this. You shouldn't have done this. Look, this person figured you out. Why did you say this? That was dumb. Jose would have done better. He WON, didn't he? ...Didn't he? But college starts in two months, so he rides it out as much as he can. College sucks. Everyone stares, but no one approaches unless it's some dickhead-sexist loser clapping him on the back with enough gusto that really re-whacks the reality into him every time. He's met with "Aren't you that asshole that won Total Drama World Tour a couple months ago?" any time he tries to make some friends. None of the cast reach out. It stings, but Alejandro gets it. He's not wanted. Within three weeks, he's moves to the middle of fucking no where with his cat and enrolls in as many online classes that his new mediocre college will allow. - Noah, praised for his intelligence and funny one-liners over his course of 15 minutes of screen-time, is the fan-favourite. Officially. Voted through the after-season special reunion. Even though he never made it far. In the beginning it's vaguely funny, karmatic. Him. Noah. The unlike-able "schemer." Is the one that fans edit on tiktok and quote on Twitter. After a (short)while it's annoying. He can't get his coffee before class without posing(or declining to do so) for at least two instagram photos. He can't scroll Twitter without seeing someone referencing him in the replies. "Giving slippery eel." "It's all down here from here, honey."

Even his nickname for Owen is used to fatshame people everywhere. "Lunchbox." Is commented under anyone over 100 pounds. It puts a foul taste in Noah's mouth that makes him lock his phone and touch fucking grass every time. Tiktok clips of him go viral. So not only does a lot of America know him, most of it does, as well as other parts of the big wide world. It sucks. The studio won't let it die either. They sell merch of his face. Of his sweater vest with the inbuilt button-up. Of his face on a gay flag(which the fans use as confirmation in his sexuality after demanding so from him for months and getting no answer.(He isn't even gay.)) Of his last insult to Alejandro. And, really, who actually won that fight? Noah, bisexual gay icon, who signed away all his rights to merch pay-cut? Or the man and his million dollars that hasn't been seen or heard from in three months? With love and admiration comes hate. It's piling up more and more. And the more people blindly defend him the more people that come out with their "I'm going to be honest. I didn't care for Noah from Total Drama." And Noah can deal with hate. Honestly, he can deal with it better than he can with love and people genuinely liking him. But he's seen the pattern. He knows where this is going. He goes on a few interviews he never accepted before, gets a new phone number, deletes all his social media, applies to a new college with a student count of 2,000, and retires his red sweaters.

Fuck the internet.

- You'll never guess who he sees.

[meepmoopdraws2]

These are my rushed thoughts for the people who are anti-gay Eddie as someone who wholeheartedly believes that he is.

The main argument I see against supporting Eddie Diaz as a queer-coded character, and or that his arc isn’t right to evolve in the direction of making him canonically gay comes in several different shades of “we need to see more healthy platonic relationships between men represented in media.”

That sentiment holds value, and it holds weight because it’s accurate. There is no way to negate the need to see that kind of representation or to seek it out within the characters, or stories we love the most.

The root that leads the search for that kind of representation stems from the real societal pressure that in order for men to be man-enough they should throw their hands up in surrender to society’s void and walk its narrow path. The rusty warnings along the way deem that a fall is deadly, that in a blazing fire it is safest to breathe smoke; that should another man intervene and hold an extinguisher to those flames it works best at a distance. Walk alone, walk far, hold on but not too tight.

Stand at attention. A strong man does not weep. A strong man will provide. A strong man knows God’s name. A strong man shouldn’t feel too deeply. Won’t feel too deeply. Can’t feel too deeply. A strong man will do what’s right, and what needs to be done.

Eddie’s characterization is vast. The show explores the layers that make up each individual piece of his identity, and with each passing year it uncovers more of what he’s tried hardest to bury.

Eddie is a man who grew up navigating that path, walking it over and over until its direction was nothing but wishful thinking-hoping it’ll carry him far enough and muscle memory-that it will regardless. Such a rigid path would let him continue onward should he find his eyes shut. A walk might not find itself a tedious task until its direction is challenged, and Eddie is a man who walks forward. This is a man who’d crawl for miles before stopping to acknowledge his hands and knees were scraped raw.

It’s a ‘manmade’ path. A path carved through repetition. At any cost he was always going to walk forward in complete darkness.

Eddie wouldn’t stop until he finally had visual of the curves in his path-curves someone had created trailing by his side. What could slow his stride other than that which holds Eddie’s heart sane?

His son is perfect-his son will always be perfect. He’ll grow up to be a strong man. Shouldn’t feel too deeply. Can’t feel too deeply. Won’t feel too deeply.

What is it that holds Eddie’s heart sane?

What is it that makes a man strong?

The hardest moments on the show come when Eddie questions how he could ever call himself a man if he were let his son trail that narrow path behind him, and when he realizes how long he may have been.

This is a man who spent his entire life conforming to fit the wrong definition of strength and man whilst equating the two. Every step he takes to fit a certain narrative weighs him down and sends cracks up the walls he has relied on so heavily to stand tall. Though with every shockwave those walls are bound to cave in.

When Eddie moved away from home he finally found footing in a few different directions. Choosing love slowed his pace. Watching his chosen family in colour could stop him dead in his tracks.

There is beauty in vulnerability. To share love, light, and laughter; to cry, scream and hurt. To have someone, illuminate the best parts of life, and dim the worst. To watch the people he cares the most about exist freely and proudly. To change and regress and grow and change again. To find truth through the broken and mended shards of love that others hold still for him when he can’t find his grip.

Bobby and Michael; Chimney and Bobby; Bobby and Eddie; Eddie and Chimney, Buck and Chimney; Buck and Bobby; Albert and Buck; Chimney and Ravi; Eddie and Buck.

“We need to see more healthy platonic relationships between men represented in media.” Its found in a blended family, its found in chosen family, its found in brotherhood, and its found in partnership, its found in friendship.

To open and close and open again. To bury and uncover and bury, bury deep. To see clearly, find hope and take on change. To know love as unconditional. To realize what you know is no longer what you see. To know that the path you’re expected to walk is not what makes you who you are. That rather, the life you choose, the people you choose, the hearts you hold closest are inherently what carve out what makes up your own.

To see “healthy platonic relationships between men,” and know that it doesn’t change who they are. That the best relationships will only uncover deeper parts of yourself including the ones you didn’t know you were allowed to show. Because, what if being vulnerable doesn’t make you a certain way… what if it just shows you how to be true?

Using that kind of representation against the widely held head-canon that Eddie Diaz is queer-coded becomes homophonic rhetoric when it is found through dozens of men who love, and respect one another without any romantic undertone. To turn around, and actively put the continued search for that representation on the narrow path you fight against is where MY issue lies.

Eddie Diaz is a man who is still walking forward continuing to carve out a path that is bound to crumble.

To uncover the beauty in truth and error. To find connection with other men, and find closeness with another man. To watch the exploration and normalcy of love. To uncover that there is no set path. To know he gets to be who he is as he is, that trying to fit a certain narrative will only ever break his heart over and over and over again. Eddie can find his truth, but he’ll find it when he realizes it’s always been present.

What if uncovering the truest parts of himself doesn’t make him gay? What if he has a close vulnerable relationship with his best friend and it doesn’t make him gay? But what if after everything he’s shoved down and repressed and unmasked-what if he so happens to be gay? I would think that doesn’t mean he’s not man enough anymore? If Eddie were to realize he had fallen in love with his best friend does that mean that their vulnerability shared platonically in the past didn’t count? Does Eddie being gay mean his journey to find what it is to be a man is void? Does Eddie’s potential queerness eliminate the past elements of platonic vulnerability on the show? Did Buck’s?

There is beauty in vulnerability but the best man knows there is power in acceptance.

Accepting others. Accepting yourself. Accepting the truth as it comes.

If that truth is queer-coded to such a large demographic why is it so unsettling?

A man’s journey to find what it means to be strong despite the void of society’s narrow path is not devalued by his potential queerness.

[futturmanspookie]

"You Belong With Me"

Summary – You and Clapton are best friends, and you are totally in love with him, but he dates Ione. Pairings – Clapton DavisX Male!Reader Tags – fluff, cheesy end, oneshot, mlm, a bit of cheating(not on you tho), friends to lovers. Words – 2,9K

Inspired by Taylor Swift's song

You're lied on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. Creep by Radiohead playing loudly on your headphones, you wonder if Ione even knows what Radiohead is...

It pisses you off... How Clapton liked her and not you, what's so interesting about Ione anyway? She's just another blonde, pretty cheerleader... It's not like she was any special!

But Clapton still seemed to like her, of course, a guy like Clapton Davis would never be gay... And would never go out with a guy like you.

But Clapton still seemed to like her, of course, a guy like Clapton Davis would never be gay... And would never go out with a guy like you.

You look over your window, seeing Clapton. Besides childhood best friends, you two were also window neighbors.

You see him by the desk, looking down at his notebook as tried to learn something. He told you last week that Principal Verge scolded him about his terrible grades.

He looks so cute when he's distracted... You can't help but staring.

Clapton notice you're staring and looks up, a sly smirk appearing on his lips, what made you blush and look away. Your phone buzzed, it was him.

Staring, huh?

You feel your stomach flipping and your cheeks tingling... He certainly knew the effect he had on you.

Maybe

You answered smiling at the screen and taking a glare at the window, just to see Clapton sitting on his chair with a wide grin on his face as looked at his phone.

Ur gay as fuck

Shut up

Never

You chuckle a bit, biting your lower lip as rolled on the bed, lying on your stomach and kicking your feet.

I can see u all happy through ur window

Stalker

He chuckled at that and looked up at the window, just to see you smiling and looking at him too.

You look cute like this

That made your cheeks flush more and you shook your head.

Fuck you

I love ya too babe :3

I'll ignore you.

Nooooo!!!!

Shhhh!

You turned of your phone, burying your face on the pillow and giggling, kicking your feet hysterically.

You were sure Clapton was seeing but you didn't cared, he surely already knew how much effect his words have over you.

Your phone buzzes a few times and you grabs it, seeing a ton of messages from Clapton.

Hey Heyyyy Y/nnn Buddyyyyy Bud Budddd

As soon as they were read, Clapton started texting again.

Can u come over? Need help with English Please?

You absolutely can't resist him, you smile at the messages and soon answer.

Sure, i'll be here in less than a minute

You texted and turned off your phone, shoving it in your pocket and looking around your room for your snickers.

...

Thirty minutes of trying to teach something to Clapton, nothing. Everything you said just got into his hollow head by one ear and slipped out by the other.

Every time you tried to explain something he just talked about how pretty you looked while explaining and how soft your hair looked today... He always wanted to get a reaction out of you.

"Clapton, i'm serious." You mumbled, rolling your eyes and smirking a bit.

"I know, and you look beautiful when you're serious." He answered, chuckling and holding your chin.

You chuckled and bit your lower lip, drumming the pen against the desk anxiously...

Clapton's phone started ringing.

"Oh, it's Ione." He said, grabbing it and looking at the call identifier.

He quickly answer the call and you can hear Ione yelling through the line.

"What the fuck, Clapton? You were hanging out with Y/n yesterday? I thought you would go out with me!" She snapped angrily, she didn't supported the fact Clapton had friends besides her.

"Calm down, babe-" He said, rolling his eyes and huffing. You hated hearing him calling her that, you were the one supposed to be his "babe", not Ione.

"Calm down? You're a terrible boyfriend!" Ione yelled, hanging up on Clapton.

"Shit." He mumbled, closing his eyes and leaving the phone over the desk as pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"Why does it even matter? She's always like this..." You said, crossing your arms and sighing.

"She's still my girlfriend, Y/n." Clapton said, huffing and supporting his elbows on the desk. "I still get frustrated when she's upset at me."

Girlfriend, ouch... It's not like you didn't knew the truth, that they dated, but it still hurts hearing him calling Ione that.

You just sigh and tries to focus back on the lesson, but you both noticed how uncomfortable the silence felt now.

"You don't like Ione, do you?" He asked, leaning back against his chair and covering his face with his hands.

"Not even a bit." You mumbled as noted something down on Clapton's notebook.

"Yeah i know." He answered, sighing.

You wished Ione never had called, so Clapton would keep jokingly flirting with you, and you could have at least a bit of hope on you two.

...

After an hour, you go back to your house. You both managed to make things less strange between each other, but still wasn't the same as the start of the night.

As soon as you flop down on your bed, you receive a text from Clapton.

Sorry :(

You smiled a bit at the screen, quickly texting him back.

It's okay :,)

No it's not

Dw Clapton

Yes, i will

Go sleep you jerk

Not if you keep mad at me

I'm not mad at you

Yes you are! I know you, Y/n, goddammit!

Stop being paranoid and go to sleep

>:^

You smile at the message, turning your phone off and looking at the window. Clapton was sitting on the bed, his expressing looking exactly like the emoticon he just sent.

He texts you again.

Y/n I don't want things strange between us

Things aren't strange, Clappy :)

You saw a smile appearing his face as you used the nickname.

U promise?

Pinky promise.

Okay, i may trust you now.

You chuckled and rolled on the bed, lying on your side.

Goodnight

Goodnight pookie bear >:3

You cheeks tingled with a sly blush, you looked at his window again, just to watch him closing the curtains and turning off the lights.

After some minutes, you got up and did the same.

...

Next morning, you met Clapton at the bus stop and hugged him like every day.

"How did you slept?" You asked, your arms wrapped around his torso and your head lied on his shoulder.

"Great..." He said in a soft tone, rubbing your back with one hand and caressing your hair with another.

You smiled sweetly and hugged him for a few more minutes, mumbling some rhetorical questions to each other before pulling away.

"Is this the shirt i gave you last Christmas?" You asked, staring at Clapton's Oasis shirt.

"Yeah, you liked my fit?" He asked in a cocky tone as pulled the hem of his shirt down and tilted his head to the side.

"You look stunningly-" You said, chuckling and looking down at Clapton's clothes. He always looked stunningly, you thought.

The bus arrived after a few more minutes, and you two sat beside each other as always. Clapton always lets you sit by the window, he knew how much you liked to watch the streets during the way.

You loved watching the suburban landscape, yeah, but you loved watching Clapton even more. The way he always looked calm, and that little smile he always had stamped on his lips, the lips you wished kissing so much times...

He noticed when you stole glances at him, but he never said nothing, he thought it was better to let you think you were good at hiding it. And to be honest, he liked the way your eyes shined when you looked at him.

The day went by normally, during Arts class, Clapton started texting you.

Hey

What?

I wanna see you :(

I'm on arts now

I know, im on math

It sucks

Yeah... Can we hang out on the skate park after school?

I thought you would go to the arcade with Sander

Im not going anymore

Ur terrible

I know >:3

Meet ya in front of school at 3

Sup!

You turn off your phone an goes back to your painting, it ends up looking a bit too much like Clapton... You knew it wasn't a good idea memorizing his features.

At three you go out the school like all the other students. You Clapton leaned against Ione's car, talking to her.

You walks behind him and wraps your arms around his neck, messing his hair and kissing his cheek.

"Hey Clappy!" You said, smirking. Clapton chuckles and holds your arm.

"Hey..." He said, smiling.

Ione, by the other side, was frowning and giving you a death glare.

"Want a ride, Babe?" She asked, looking at Clapton.

He gets a bit uncomfortable and shifts in his place.

"I can't, i'm going to hang out with Y/n." He said, shrugging and scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh." Ione answered, frowning her nose. "Alright." She said, shrugging and looking away in anger.

Ione was nice, it's just... She was jealous, and she wasn't the type of girl for Clapton... Innit?

You two walk the half of the way in silence, and then Clapton smiles a bit and looks at you.

"Want a skateboard ride?" He asked, raising the skateboard that was under his shoulder.

"How you plan on giving me a "skateboard" ride?" You asked, chuckling.

He smirked and dropped the skateboard on the floor, lifting you up and positioning you over the skateboard.

"Like this-" He said, holding on your waist and putting his right foot over the board, using the other one to impulse the skateboard to move.

You blush a bit and chuckles, enjoying the feeling of Clapton close to you.

"Why do you always want to hang out, by the way?" You ask, looking forward as you both skateboard towards the park.

"I don't know." He mumbled, shrugging and supporting his chin on your shoulder. "I enjoy your company." He said, smiling a bit.

You smile sweetly, looking to the ground and then up again, thinking about you and Clapton. There was clearly more than just friendship there... There was something, a feeling that Clapton clearly didn't seemed to have with any girl.

You two had a bound... A thing. It was hard to understand, what you two were was complicated to identify.

Mates? Best Friends? Neighbors? Lovers?

All that you know, is that you liked it... You liked how Clapton made you feel, you liked how he touched and talked to you. You knew you were special to him, and you were special to him too...

Clapton nuzzled against your neck, sniffing on your scent. God, he loved how you smelled...

"Stop sniffing on me like a damn dog-" You mumbled, blushing and smiling.

"You smell so good..." He mumbled, rubbing his hands on your sides.

"Thanks." You mumbled, chuckling a bit and running one of your hands through your hair.

You two keep skateboarding for some time, until you arrived the park and Clapton wanted to show you some "radical" tricks.

He fell some times, what made you laugh of him – But also run to help him every time.

"Damn..." He gritted through his teeth as you cleaned the fresh scrape he made as tried to realize an Heelflip.

"You're unbelievable, Clapton." You said, blowing on the scrape softly.

He hissed in pain, holding on your wrist and squeezing it. "Ouch!" He said, sighing.

You chuckled a bit and leaned in, leaving a soft kiss on the wound. "It'll get better." You mumble, smiling at him.

He blushes a bit and chuckles, letting go of your wrist. Some drops of water falling from the sky.

"Let's go, It's pouring." You said getting up quickly and pulling Clapton up with you.

As you two run to find a cover, the rain gets worse and you two end up soaked. After some time you finally found a cover on the facade of an shop.

You lean against the wall, sighing as tried to recover from the run.

"Damn... Im soaked." You mumbled, and then looked at Clapton.

You blushes and looks away as he leans on the wall next to you, dropping the skateboard on the floor and looking at you.

"I guess we'll have to wait..." He mumbled, his arm softly touching yours as your thoughts slowly started to get back to normal.

You look down at your hands, the pinkies touching. You slowly interlace your hands, and Clapton doesn't fight it, quite the opposite, he squeezes your hand back.

"Clapton..." You called, looking down at your feet.

"Hm?" He asked.

"Why do you date Ione?" You ask, looking up at him.

"Well, because hm... Because i like her..." Clapton answered, shrugging and looking away.

"If you liked her you wouldn't had hesitated." You said, kicking the ground as your gaze moved back to the floor.

The silence fell between you two, not an uncomfortable or nice silence, just silence...

"You belong with me, Clapton." You mumbled, looking up at him again.

His eyes met yours, and as an kind of spell, he moves in and kisses your lips.

You kiss him back, without thinking twice. His hands slide down your waist, gripping it tightly as his tongue brushed against your lower lip, asking for entrance.

You part your lips, allowing your tongues to met. They move together in a desperate way, you two have been wanting this for so long.

Your hands grip on his shoulders as the kiss keeps getting deeper, suddenly, he breaks the kiss and pulls away.

"I can't- I- I can't like boys, i have a girlfriend." Clapton said as took a few steps back.

"Clapton, i-" You started, being cut by him running away.

You felt your heart clenching in your chest as you watch him disappearing on the streets... What the fuck did you just did.

...

Y/n? Please, answer me Please Are we still friends? Please stop ignoring me

You read between the sea of messages Clapton sent you. It's been two weeks since you two don't talk, he stoped texting you in the 5th day, but you re-read all his messages. You miss like you never felt someone before, it's kinda crazy.

Your mom knocks on your door. "Can i get in?" She asks, holding on the handle.

"Yeah..." You mumbled, lying back on the mattress.

She gets in, a concerned look on her face. She slowly sits down besides you on bed.

"What's the matter, dear?" She asks, fixing your hair to the side. "You're not going to the spring prom?" Your mother asks again, worriedly.

"I don't want to go..." You answered nonchalantly, your tone was low and defeated. Of course, you have been crying after school for the whole last week.

She holds your hands, looking in your eyes worriedly.

"What happen?" Mom insists.

"I... I really like this person..." You starts, gulping and taking a deep breath. "And, you know, they date... And we kissed, but they kissed me first!" You continues, licking your licks as tried to put your thoughts into words. "We are not talking since the day they kissed me, and... I really want to talk to them, but i am scared... And i'm sure i'll met them on the prom. What should i do?" You asked, seeming confused and desperate.

Your mother caresses your cheek, looking at you with a sympathetic look in her eyes...

"Oh baby... I think you should go..." She mumbles, pulling you into a hug.

You desperately hug her back and took some deep breathes. You couldn't live like this, you needed your best friend back.

...

Clapton was dancing a slow dance with Ione, what bothered him for two motives;

First: Clapton don't dance.

Second: It wasn't you the one dancing with him.

He tried to keep his focus on his girlfriend, on the fact they would probably be crowned king and queen of the prom in some moments, but...

The only thing he could think was you.

Your cute lopsided smile every time he playfully complimented you, the way your eyes shined when found his, the way your voice sounded when you were yapping about your day to you...

It was so hard to admit he liked another guy, but it was so hard to not fall in love with you.

"I need to get some air." Clapton said, pulling away from Ione and wiping the sweat from his face.

As he walked out of the auditory, he found you.

You were standing on the end of the stairs, wearing your dark blue suit, holding a lapel flower and looking at Clapton.

You opened your mouth and closed it again, you couldn't put your feelings into words right now.

Clapton ran downstairs and hugged you tightly, holding your cheek and looking at you.

"Can you put it on my suit for me?" You asked, raising the flower.

He smiled and chuckled, hugging you and lying his head in your shoulder for some seconds before pulling away and grabbing the lapel flower from your hands. He cautiously hooked it to your lapel.

"You look incredible... As always." He mumbled, holding on your sides and kissing your cheek.

"Will you conceive me a dance?" You mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He smirked and moved closer, kissing your lips softly. "Sure." He whispered, his breath tickling your skin.

You smiled, and you two started to move in the rhythm of the slow music that could be heard from the auditorium.

"You know..." He whispered, his hands squeezing on your waist softly. "I knew you would come."

[milflewis]

22 + chalex for the prompt thing! 🫶🏻

22. hug

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 1: So. I am fucked. Surprise though! So you can stop all the tears — talking about you, Commander, the softy that you are - I am alive.]

—

Two weeks after NASA has declared Alex Albon dead and left on Mars, Charles writes to George. He sends it to Sebastian and makes him swear to get it to Lewis in the crew’s next info dump, who will give it to George.

He tells him about how Alex’s plants are doing, and about his shifts at the hospital, how he’s on night work now, with the shifts rotating over. He tells him about going to the beach and just standing there for hours, staring out at the water, until he could no longer feel his face from the cold. He tells that he’s more or less sleeping, that he’s going to work, that he’s eating. He tells him that he hopes they’re keeping safe and that he loves him.

He doesn’t talk about Alex. He doesn’t tell George he doesn’t blame him. He knows he’ll know. That he won’t need Charles to write the words.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 2: I think I've got this actually. Ignore yesterday. Getting stranded on Mars kinda messes with your head. I've got a plan and I'm feeling good about it! ]

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 2: Update. I do not got this. If I die, Charles, I demand a mourning period of at least eighty-three years. Please bury me under some nice flowers. Blue if you can.]

—

“Come back to me,” Charles says, arms tight around Alex’s neck, mouth pressed under his ear. He smells of shampoo and asphalt. His bony elbows are digging into Charles’s back.

“I’m going to make Mars my bitch,” Alex says, grinning, and Charles shoves him away with a laugh.

Alex catches his wrist with a warm hand. His palm is dry and calloused. “Charlie,” he starts, low and careful. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Charles’s voice cracks. He tries again. “Yes, I know, of course, of course. Me too.”

Alex smiles, and it’s wonderful. Charles memorises the shape of it.

Down the line, with his back to the hoard of cameras, Commander Lewis Hamilton is pressing his mouth against his husband’s knuckles. Both of their eyes are closed.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 54]: Did you know that if you grow something somewhere that you've then colonised it? So, like, now that I've got my potatoes going does that mean I now own Mars? A win for the gays and the losers, motherfuckers!]

—

Toto swivels in his chair and looks out of the window to the sky beyond. Night is slipping in.

"What is it like?" he wonders. “Stuck up there. Alone. He does not know we know. What does that do?"

He looks at Niki. "I wonder what he is thinking right now."

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 61: How come Aquaman can control whales. They're mammals! Makes no sense.]

—

Some days, when he hasn’t had much sleep and the air warps and curls over on itself with heat, he sees Charles.

He’ll only ever be far off in the distance — too far for Alex to even see the details of his face, let alone touch him. He’d know the shape of those shoulders anywhere.

Alex waves to him sometimes. This dark blur on the horizon that just stands there and watches. He never waves back. The sun on Mars is unforgiving.

Alex wonders if he’s moisturising his hands. The latex exam gloves he has to wear for work always dry out his skin.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 76: I'm going to have to science the shit out of this. George, please don't use this as porn. I know how hot and bothered you get about me being all smart and sexy.]

—

George has, like, every sitcom ever downloaded in his personal storage. Alex works his way through them all. If he never hears another laugh track in his life he’d die happy.

Lewis’s music list is jam packed full of different genres. There is a surprising amount of The Beatles in there. Alex wouldn’t have guessed he was a fan of them.

Alex decides the music Lewis had made himself, all chords and notes and little words, is some of his favourites. It can be hard hearing other people speak at you and not being able to talk back.

Every book Valtteri had downloaded is in Finnish. Alex thinks he probably should’ve guessed that would be the case.

It turns out Finnish is very hard to learn, especially when the only words you’ve picked up are swears that you’ve heard Valtteri muttering under his breath before media duties.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 206: Finally got into contact with NASA because I am that bitch and I will be damned if I die here, and that is a promise. They won’t stop telling me what to do now though, so, like, it’s a give and take, I guess.]

—

The first thing Charles notices about Alex is that he has freckles all over his face but especially across his nose and cheeks. This feels very important.

The second thing he notices is that he is tall and his wrists are bony. Charles eyes the strip of skin where his MATHS IS SEXY top rides up. There is an equally tall man sitting in the booth beside him with a shirt that reads: NO ITS NOT.

The third thing he notices is that he is extremely drunk. His cheeks are flushed and he’s half falling over the table as he tries to explain something while laughing.

Charles probably falls in love right there if he’s being honest, even if he never gets the courage to go up and talk to him. Alex is the one who says hi, weeks later, asking him if he wants to play pool.

Charles doesn’t know how to play pool. He says yes anyway because he thinks it might make Alex smile. It does.

He keeps saying yes and Alex keeps smiling. They move together after college graduation.

Charles is coming off a double shift and he can’t feel his feet when Sebastian shows up to give him a ride home. He makes him tea when they get in. It’s a blend of something herbal and sweet like honey.

Sebastian tells him Alex is still alive as Charles breathes in the steam. He tells him that they left him behind on Mars. That it was an accident. That they’re figuring out how to get him home.

Alex is alive, Charles thinks. I’ll get to see Alex smile again, Charles thinks, and promptly bursts into tears.

—

[08:47] BUTTON: Good, keep us posted on any mechanical or electrical problems. By the way, the name of the probe we're sending you is Iris. You know, the one who rode the waves of heaven using the wind. I think she's also the chick with the rainbows.

[08:49] ALBON: Gay probe coming to save me. Got it.

—

I’m so glad it’s not me stuck up there, the navigational assistant tells him. He was the one who discovered Alex was still alive in the first place. He tells him he noticed the MAV moving. His name is Yuki.

Alex thinks he’s going to say he’d miss people or fresh fruit or Netflix or sex or something. Alex hasn’t had a mango in so long. He hasn’t had a blowjob in even longer. Some days he isn’t sure which is worse.

Yuki is very very funny.

Can you imagine only eating potatoes, he tells Alex. I would rather die dead and alone. And then: though I guess you would not have to imagine.

And then: the eating potatoes bit. sorry. you haven’t done the other one yet.

Alex laughs so much he rebreaks a only barely healed rib and NASA yells at them both. His calcium levels are very low.

—

[21:27] BUTTON: How are the crops affecting that number? As to your question: We haven't told the crew you're alive yet. We wanted them to concentrate on their own mission.

[21:30] ALBON: The crops are potatoes. I got them from the ones we were supposed to eat for Christmas. They're doing great but the available farmland isn't sustainable. I'll run out of food around SOL 900. Also. Fucking tell the crew I'm alive???? What the fuck is wrong with you????

[21:31] BUTTON: SOL 900 is great news. That'll give us time to get a supply mission to you. And I’ve been told to tell you to watch your language. Everything you type is being broadcasted around the world.

[21:32] ALBON: Look! A pair of boobs - > ( . Y . )

—

Dear Alex: Apparently, NASA is letting us talk to you now. And I drew the short straw. Sorry we left you behind on Mars.

But we just don't like you. You're sort of annoying. And you shed hair everywhere.

Also, it's a lot roomier on the Hermes without you. We have to take turns doing your tasks. But, I mean, it's only botany. It's not a real science.

How's Mars?

— George.

—

Alex stares up at the plain white ceiling of the HAB. The wind roars and rages outside and the Level Threw sandstorm shakes the walls. It holds. It always holds.

When he makes the journey to find the HAB of the HERMES TWO, he’ll be technically crossing international waters without any explicit permission from a governmental body. That makes him a pirate.

I’m going home, Alex thinks. And then: I can’t wait to tell Charlie that he’s married to a bad boy.

Alex runs a hand over his face. He’s even gotten the beard to go with it.

—

Dear George: Mars is fine. When I get lonely I think of that steamy night I spent with your mum.

How are things on Hermes? Cramped and claustrophobic? Yesterday I went outside and looked at the horizons. They really do go on forever.

— Alex.

—

"Thing is," Alex scrambles to say, mouth dry and sore. "I'm selfish. I want all the memorials back home to be just about me. I don't want the rest of you losers in any of them. I can't let you guys blow the VAL. Also, I'm the only one who is allowed to make Charlie cry. Them's the rules."

"Oh," Lewis says. "Well, I mean, if you won't let us — wait. Wait a minute, I think I see something on my shoulder patch here. Oh, right, yeah, it says I'm the Commander. So, you know, what I say goes. Shut the fuck up and sit tight. We're coming to get you."

Alex swallows — or tries to at least. His whole body aches. He thinks he broke a rib, or two. Or three. He wants to cry.

"Copy that, sir."

"We've got you, man." Lewis's voice is warm. Alex doesn't have to imagine his smile anymore. He's going to get to see it very soon.

—

Alex is all bone and mouth when Charles gets to see him again. He has lost so many of his freckles. He hugs him close, pressing his thumbs into the hinge of Alex's jaw. Alex bows and curls over him and Charles doesn't let either of them fall.

He tastes vaguely of salt and snot when Charles kisses him. Charles is crying.

Alex is smiling when he pulls away, arms tight around Charles' back. "Look at your face," he says softly. He's talking to himself.

"I'm here," Charles replies, louder than necessary. Alex blinks at him and his smile, impossibly, gets even bigger. Charles's stomach squirms.

"You're a mess," Alex teases him, running a hand through Charles' hair. Charles doesn't say anything about how his hands shake.

“You should stay here and take care of me then,” Charles says, and Alex closes his eyes, smushing his nose hard into the skull of Charles’s forehead. Charles digs his nails in.

Fuck you, Mars, Charles. Fuck you.

[1000punks]

bonding. ⁰⁸//reversing

bonding. //masterlist

pairing: spawn!Astarion x named!Tav (non-binary OC)

warnings: 18+. nsft. mdni. hurt/comfort, angst, canon-typical descriptions of gaslighting/manipulation.

word count: 5,061

summary: two gays remodel a house domestic fluff and some character background building, set in post-game baldur's gate. two people who are weird and traumatized work on their relationship and reclaim their sexuality through a shared kink. lots of gooey romantic smut while these two slowly figure out their future together.

named!Tav is my non-binary tiefling ranger, Festé. i was seeing far too few fics with tiefling!Tav and i thought it was crucial, nay, critical to include them in the headcanons. i hope you all enjoy! ♡

header credit: MANTIS. // @astarionposting

It was hard to slip into a trance, even with his face buried in his imp's chest, and their arm draped over his back. Festé had fallen asleep while petting over his scars and through his hair, and he had enjoyed every moment of it. Astarion tried again, screwing his eyes shut and counting their heartbeats in his mind. He let their rhythmic breathing lull him back to relaxation, their chest rising and falling slowly. The elf turned his head, opting to rest his cheek on their shoulder, and to brush his lips against their neck. They shifted slightly, and splayed their hand against his back before relaxing it. Astarion continued to count, letting his mind wander. As if it weren't enough to be next to them twenty-four hours a day, Festé often made starring appearances in his thoughts and memories. Greedy, he thought, to have them all to himself, and to still desire more from them.

Regardless, tonight he remembered the very first time he opened up to them, to anyone, about his vampirism. Astarion heaved a sigh and recalled how they had looked when he had been caught bending over their bedroll. Almost demure, definitely curious, but not the least bit fazed. He relaxed and slipped into the memory fully, echoes of the conversation they had had that night coming into focus.

He was studying their face as he hastily explained how he had come to be kneeling over them in the dead of night, the sudden anxiety of the situation forcing the truth out. Shit, he cursed himself, as he took in their furrowed brow and tense posture. Why did he have to pick the ranger? They may be small, but from the looks of them… Gods, he was desperate; and he needed this to work. He needed to have just a taste of power, so he whipped up a half-truth.

They softened their posture at his words, he could easily see it, but something in their eyes bore deep into his chest. He felt… exposed under their unwavering gaze. That feeling in his chest, was it shame? The imp probably saw right through him, but they were playing along anyway? Astarion felt a twinge at the very back of his skull, jerking him out of character for an instant. The damned tadpole.

Festé didn't pry, though. It was genuinely disarming, but his lips were already shaping themselves around another half-truth: "…You can trust me." The memory blurred a bit around the edges as he continued, "I only need a taste, I swear." The imp's eyes were piercing, burning; and yet they had still agreed. What were they playing at?

From there, he had shoved the confusion away, the practiced seductive notes slipping into his voice as he invited the tiefling to lay back. Astarion went for their neck, and immediately, fireworks were going off somewhere within his ribcage. The smokiness of their blood was altogether new, but it was jarring how familiar it felt at the same time. His breathing quickened, despite his best efforts to remain calm as the first swallow coursed down his throat. The elf dug his nails into the dirt involuntarily, feeling the imp struggle underneath him with the pain. They raised their hand out of his line of sight, and he only noticed when he felt their fingers tug at the front of his shirt, softly as you please.

"That's… enough," their uncharacteristically deep voice had broken the spell their blood had cast on him, and they gently pushed Astarion away.

He spoke the first genuine truth he had that night, "That… was amazing," and the tiefling's gaze was piercing once more, though they were smiling widely at him. So stupid, he thought, smiling so warmly at the beast who was sure to be one's demise. Eventually, the elf had walked away, a new spark stirring within his chest.

Unfortunately, when he found himself alone just beyond the treeline, he realized he had felt something else stirring, as well. He panted, whirling around to glance back toward the camp before letting one shoulder come to rest against a tree. Astarion felt the sharp twist of lust coupled with the instinctual revulsion, and the act of relieving himself of both only served to instill a deep confusion within him. A confusion he repressed swiftly as he hunted for something he could kill.

The memory swam before his eyes, and he was standing in the clearing outside of camp. Most of his weight was being supported by the trunk of a large tree, and he was panting and clutching his chest. He supposed that if he had possessed a beating heart, it would be arresting right now.

"Just say… your lines, you stupid elf…" he muttered harshly under his breath. Suddenly, rage flared in his chest along with the panic, and he was tearing off his shirt, throwing it aside carelessly. This was just another thing that had been tainted for him, even if he wanted to enjoy it. He pressed his back against the tree, covering his face with his hands, while a litany of whispers fell from his lips. "It's just, one more mark. You can do this. You can do this." He kneaded at his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Just do it," he snarled.

Footsteps were approaching, and his ears twitched, judging the distance: out of earshot, but not for long. Three, two, one… He stepped out from the shadows of the trees; his features composed, but the disgust barely contained.

"There you are. I've been waiting." The bile was rising in his throat, but he smirked anyway. "Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you." A harmless lie; the imp was good-looking, to be sure, but he never imagined he would be doing this again. "Waiting to have you." He looked them over, his vision going double for a moment while he fought the familiar nausea, the pit in his stomach opening up wide as he stepped towards them. He wished that he could vomit, if only just to make the feeling go away. Then he glanced up, focusing on the tiefling's eyes, and fought to keep his features blank and composed. That disarming expression again, as if the damned imp was examining his very soul. They had such a genuinely warm countenance about them, it showed in their smile. Perhaps they knew, he thought, and yet they were playing his little game.

Festé smirked, mirroring him, but their eyes burned and narrowed. "You don't have me yet," they countered in their rich, low voice. He was off-book now, taken aback, but the moves were more or less the same.

The memory blurred and faded slightly. He hadn't wanted to remember the details, but he did recall his surprise at how warm their body had been. It was useless to compare it to the many other bodies he had touched, or that had touched him. Theirs was…different. To boot, they had offered their neck to him once again, which he only imagined was part of some larger fetish.

Astarion withdrew from that one for the time being, and all of the memories collapsed in on themselves for an instant, and then began cycling rapidly. Every night, they had allowed him in, to feed; and he took, and took. He began to look forward to their visits to his tent every morning, bouncing over to check on him, to ask if he had fed enough, to offer him the same that night. Over time, he had speculated more and more that it wasn't simply a fetish of theirs, not with the way they had lingered near him in camp, nor the way they were by his side before and after every meeting, every battle. Over and over, different locations, different lighting, and different situations: every time he had seen their beautiful smile moved, rapid-fire, across his mind. How he had grown to love that smile, and how he had begun to crave it, to covet it.

There he was, the night after they had faced that detestable drow at Moonrise. He caught Festé's arm by his fingertips, and motioned his head to a spot at the edge of camp. It was a tense moment, and he didn't want anyone else to hear him lay it bare. He studied their features as he began to confess, leaving his feelings and sins out in the open for them to judge, but they didn't. When the tiefling had instead wrapped their arms around him so tenderly, he fought the urge to sink to his knees, to weep and beg for them to stop; but also to never stop. He didn't deserve this care, and certainly not in the wake of confessing to sleeping with them to get ahead. But he craved it so desperately at the same time. It was only then, with his face buried in their shoulder, that he had pieced it together. Festé wanted to help sustain him, they didn't want him to feed to fulfill some sick fetish of theirs. The imp truly wanted him to live. They were forcing him to live, to contend with being alive, whether they had intended to or not. They were nurturing him, and to this day, he was still contending with that truth.

Astarion began to ruminate on the past two days, turning it over and comparing it to how he had felt the very first time they had slept together; and something tightened in his chest, distracting him. What if they were able to live on forever with him? What if it was their choice, and what if Gale's plan to get the ring ended up working? On the other hand, what if it was all a trap? He had an inkling that a vampire lord wouldn't stray too near to the city, unless they had plans to claim the now-open territory for themself. It would be a shame if he and Festé had come this far in their relationship for everything to be ruined.

He focused on their argument the previous day, watching their good eye burn dangerously as they looked up at him, their fingers pressing to his lips. "That's right, I don't," Festé spat.

Oh. They wouldn't even consider the idea? He must be more of a burden than he thought.

"But you wouldn't have known that, because neither of you bothered to ask me. You assumed, both of you. I wasn't angry then, but I am now." Their deep voice shot up half an octave in exasperation. He watched them pinch the bridge of their nose, crestfallen. Of course, it was as he thought, he was too much, wasn't he? Why else would they be so upset?

"You d… What?" he tilted his head, sitting back on the imp's thighs, deciding in that instant to push his luck. "You don't… want that? Isn't that what every mortal wants?" he hissed, his thoughts turning back to that drow at Moonrise once again, and to all of the thousands of faceless people he had bedded. They were all entranced by him, and most of them against their will. What was different here?

He blinked softly as Festé heaved a great sigh underneath him. It sounded happy, and he felt their fingers trace over his back, once, while they shifted under his weight, turning their head the other way. He pursed his lips, inhaling against the hollow of their neck, and he concentrated once more, feeling back into his memories of the previous day.

"You didn't, Star. You said you had no choice in the matter." They met his eyes, and he took in their grim expression. His chest felt like it was caving in on itself. "I do, and while I would give my life to spend forever with you, I don't think the risk is worth the potential reward." He knew that if his heart could beat, it would have stopped, right there and then. They wouldn't risk it? Not even for eternity with him?

"You… You don't?" His voice sounded faint, even to himself, and he dropped his gaze from theirs. The weight he now felt in his chest refused to dissipate. He wished…

"You're right, what if someone got hurt in the process? What if one of our friends got hurt? What if, gods forbid, you got hurt, or killed? It's selfish, but the rest of my short life with you, like this," he warmed a bit when their fingers skated over his cheek, "Where I can give you… all of me? I'd rather that than potentially spending eternity with regrets, or deaths weighing on my conscience." The imp smiled, though it didn't reach their eyes. He studied them, and frowned. How dare they call themself selfish, when what they had just said was so entirely selfless? Festé had always put everyone else's needs and desires above their own, even when it was at their own expense or detriment. He wanted to shout at them, to ask what they truly wanted, because he could plainly see something hidden in their eyes. The memory dispersed for a second as he recalled another, after his unfortunate 'siblings' had stormed their camp on the outskirts of Baldur's Gate.

"You're the only one. Other people don't have a heart like you. You're you. No one is like that." He said it with such conviction, and he truly meant it from the bottom of his heart, though he had felt something inside him twist violently as he spoke the words. The context had changed, but not the content.

He withdrew, and thought it over; how unfortunate he was then, not knowing just how true those words would become, Festé's face and the backdrop of their bedroom swam into view once more, and the elf parted his lips.

"You want the same thing as I do." Damnable imp, he loved them so. He closed his eyes slowly, and loathe as he was to accept it in the moment, he knew that the tiefling's big heart would prevent them from taking risks with anyone's safety besides their own. If they faced down a vampire lord, it would have only been in the situation with… him. Astarion couldn't bear to think the name right now. It was only because he, the prodigal spawn, was in clear and present danger. They truly didn't covet this life, that much was apparent. "You want to protect me, and I want to protect you," he sighed. You want to protect everyone except yourself, he added silently.

The thought of having them, though? Forever? It was a tempting prospect. He retreated from the argument, focusing on the point where he had the imp back in his arms; and he contrasted it with the first time he had slept with them. He was sickened that first time by the ghosts of his past, and the mere notion of his own arousal when he gazed over the tiefling's body. How warm they had been, though; and no less warm last night when they had taken to bed together again. His disgust with sex was gradually being replaced with a hunger that he couldn't quite put into words. Astarion, if he had his way, would have his hands on his imp at all times, whether it be a single fingertip or being buried deeply within their body. He decided, as he pinned both of Festé's wrists above their head, that if it were possible, he would crawl inside their chest and make a home for himself next to their heart. "I want to take all of the pleasures of your body, pet. Be good for me." Come now, show your devotion to me one more time. I'm begging you, he thought, feeling them squirm as he bared his fangs and opened a fresh wound on their neck.

They began to shake as he swallowed deeply, and he considered what would happen if he went too far, resting his body on theirs. It was torturous, loving someone so much that your first instinct was to devour them. He ground his hips against theirs, a snarling thought tearing its way through his mind when he felt their blood lose some pressure, their whimpers growing weaker. I'll drain you; I'll make you stay the only way I know how. He blinked in surprise, mentally shaking himself and pulling away with a harsh sigh. He all but tore the lacing from the front of his trousers, pushing the animalistic, bloodthirsty thought back behind a mental wall while he shoved his pants off. The elf patted his thigh and caught them in his arms, glad that they couldn't perceive his fingers trembling as he held them. So warm… It was a bit blurry, he was preoccupied with the feral desire to be inside of them once again. Even being this close was sweet agony. Their skin burned against his own, and he found himself wondering if it was from their hellish blood, or from some other secret. No human had felt this way against his skin. He pressed them closer. "Now that you're weakened and pliant for me, darling," he couldn't help purring in appreciation, his voice coming out rough and foreign, "I think it's only fair that you're further reminded who you belong to." And who belongs to you, you damned imp. Gods, they looked so precious. He raised a hand and pushed it into their hair, framing their face and smiling. He intended the gesture to be tender, but he probably looked terrifying. "Hasn't it been so long? By now, you've probably forgotten how I feel inside you, hmm?" He knew that he had, and he stifled his gasp when they moved in his lap, gripping them and pulling them closer. Anywhere he could reach, please, just…

He slid into them, and moaned against their ear like it had been his first time. It was mortifying, but Festé didn't seem to mind, locking their arms around his neck and rocking against him. Yes. Please, he wanted to cry out. Please hold me. Hold on to me as tightly as I hold on to you. Let me hear you. Let me feel you. Let me love you. He felt powerless as he experienced the scene unfold once again. Drowning, that's what he would call it; he was drowning himself in them. But if this was drowning, was it really all that bad? Was it so bad if he got to hold them, to feel genuine pleasure, to enjoy himself for the first time in two centuries?

Their snarling moan snapped him out of his own thoughts for a moment. What if he was simply hurting them with how - or what - he was? Oh… oh, that feeling, their fingers on his back that had almost driven him mad the first time, but he slowed his thrusts regardless. "H…hurts, Star…" He was sure it did, they looked positively wrecked; then he realized just how deeply he had pushed inside, he was met with resistance. Shit.

"Do you want me to stop, my pet?" He studied their face intensely, his fingers curling tightly around their jaw. They shook their head. "Or would you have me continue to ruin you?" His tone betrayed the lust that he felt radiating from his chest. They nodded and pressed their cheek firmly to the elf's hand. "You like how much it hurts?" He didn't let his surprise show through, and watched the imp nod again, moaning out. All for him. He stroked his thumb over their cheek, alabaster on rose. "Good, darling. I'm not nearly finished with you." I'll never be finished with you, he promised silently. I'm so utterly lost in you.

For the last time, he pushed away from the memory. The elf pressed his lips gingerly to Festé's neck, eyes still squeezed shut, as he slowly drifted back to full consciousness. As delicious as they were, his memories had only served to make him more sickened with himself. Much as he was loathe to do so, he moved his limbs slowly, inhaling their scent for one last time and pressing his fingers between theirs on top of the bedsheets. Astarion peeled himself away with an exasperated sigh, careful not to jar his sleeping imp, and padded into the dingy bathroom. The sunlight was only just starting to fade; and thankfully, this was the only room in the house with no windows.

He reached for the taps of the bathtub, twisting them and sitting on the edge as the basin filled, studying the reflection of the ceiling in the water where he knew his head should have been. With another sigh, he reached down, cutting through the surface of the water with his fingertips.

Astarion didn't want to lose them, not when they had permeated every pore of his skin and every fibre of his being. However, considering condemning them to death? Well, technically life, he rolled his eyes silently. How could he choose between them belonging to someone else, or having them leave him? It was impossible. He turned the taps off and slipped into the steaming water, settling in and watching the light slowly drain around him. Eventually, he wet a washcloth and set it on his head, slinking down further in the water with a relaxed sigh. The droplets of water tickled his shoulders and his chest when they landed, and he closed his eyes, listening. Festé's breath shuddered, and they turned over, their heart rate still slow and calm; and Astarion's ears twitched as he heard them sigh softly, mumbling his name under their breath. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he kept silent; but they didn't say anything else. Once it was dark, the elf heard his imp stir, and the gentle rustle of fabric when they pulled back the bedsheets. They paused, and he heard them exhale slowly and toss their shirt to the floor, followed by the quiet creak of the floorboards when they got up.

"Star?" they whispered, a hint of concern in their voice.

"In here, darling," he called. His throat felt like it was coated with sand, and he inhaled as he heard their heartbeat grow louder.

"Gods, my love. I know we both have excellent nightvision, but we could stand to light a candle, couldn't we?" Astarion heard them pick up the candlestick from the kitchen table and snap their fingers. "There, now it looks a little less like a cave…" The floorboards creaked as the tiefling padded into the bathroom, and he rested his head back against the edge of the tub, looking up at them upside down. They were beaming at him, and he felt his stomach flip over as he lay eyes on what they were wearing, frowning a bit. Confusion crossed their features, and they whispered, "What is it, my love?"

He looked away, covering his mouth with one hand and swallowing. "You look very handsome in that, is all." Not to mention, they would be getting their scent all over it. They laughed softly, looking down at themself.

"Well, my shirt was covered in blood, Star. You can't blame me for picking up the first thing that I saw." Astarion glanced at them and smiled. Their voice was always so rich and husky when they first woke up, and it gave him shivers. Not that he would ever admit it. He turned in the water, crossing his arms over the edge of the tub and resting his chin on top of them, humming. They sat on the small stool, setting the candle on the floor, and arching their eyebrows. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing, darling. I'm just surprised you can still walk." The bravado slipped in, he couldn't help it. He chuckled when they rolled their eyes, pulling the washcloth off of his head and leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"You know…" they whispered softly, leaning in further, and Astarion's ear twitched, he could feel the heat of their breath all too well.

"Hmm?"

"I haven't washed your hair for you in a while, my love. Would you like that?" They sat back, a warm smile playing over their lips. "Maybe a scalp massage?" The tiefling stood when Astarion nodded, moving to let them sit on the edge of the tub, and turning away once more. Festé cupped their hands and scooped water over the back of his head, and he shivered as it ran down his back. He bowed his head as the tiefling leaned forward to scoop more, and flinched slightly when they pushed their fingers through his curls. The elf settled between their thighs as they took up the soap and lathered it in their palms. "Just relax, love," they murmured, and he let his shoulders slump with a long sigh. "Did you have a bad rest?" They spoke in a low voice as they pushed their fingers back into his hair, working them in slow, firm circles over his scalp.

How did they always know? "You could say that. Just a lot on my mind, darling. That's all," he tried to keep his tone airy, and winced as he finished. They would see right through it.

"If you don't want to talk about it right now, we can talk about it later, my love. Just let me know." They pulled his hair back gently, leaning his head back and moving their fingers over his temples. It felt divine, and the elf drew his legs up a bit under the water's surface.

"Mn… you caught me, darling," he chuckled sheepishly. "I will, though, I promise." Even if it would be difficult to grit out. He swallowed again, deciding to change the subject. "You don't want to get in? You're… not to be rude, darling, but you're quite ripe."

"Is it distracting?" They paused with their hands in his hair, looking down at him with a smirk. "I just didn't want to assume…" they slipped their tail into the tub, curling it against his stomach. Astarion shifted in the water, and the imp's smirk grew wider as they ran their fingers along the length of his pointy ears. His eyes fluttered closed instinctively, and he shuddered. Festé leaned down and kissed his cheek before tilting his head back up and scooping more water to rinse his hair.

"That, mnh…" he started, calming himself with a slow sigh, "That felt really nice, darling," he finished in a husky whisper, his shoulders twitching as the water ran down his back once more. He moved one of his arms between his thighs, leaning forward slightly; the imp's tail was flicking against his stomach.

"Good, I'm glad," they murmured, kneading gently over the back of his neck with their thumbs. They were more roughly textured than he expected, and he arched his back with a pleasured hiss. "Sorry, too much?" He shook his head, sending water droplets everywhere, and Festé chuckled. "Alright, my love." They continued kneading slowly down to his shoulders, working on the tight muscles. It was painful, to be sure, but he couldn't recall a single time before the imp had come into his life where the pain was balanced out with such care taken with his body. Festé came upon a particularly hard knot, and he couldn't help but let out a low moan, tilting his head to the side. "Does this feel okay?" Their hands had paused again, gentle on his skin.

"Please… don't stop," he hissed, reaching up to grip the side of the tub, his other arm still between his legs. How humiliating, he mused, getting aroused by a simple massage, not to mention trying to hide it. They were just being nice, after all. He took another slow, steady breath, letting them loosen the knot. "It feels… excellent, darling. A…Ah!" Their thumbs all but pried his shoulder apart where it met the base of his neck, and his entire body tensed. It sent a tendril of heat directly to his groin.

"Lay back," they spoke softly, splaying one palm over his chest. Gods damn it. "It'll feel sore, but the knot is gone n- Oh." They had been looking at his face when they had pushed at his chest, but had glanced down while they spoke. Their eyes grew wide before they averted their gaze from his groin. "I'm sorry, love. I didn't realize it felt that good. Do you need a moment?" Astarion frowned, catching their wrist as they meant to sit up. His voice came out in a pathetic whimper, and he cursed himself silently.

"N…no. Please, darling," he pulled their hand back to his chest, and they huffed softly, grazing their fingernails over his nipple. "Please, don't stop." Suddenly, he was ashamed, he knew exactly what he was craving at this moment, and prayed that his imp wouldn't read it in his eyes. He looked away quickly, his grip loosening on their wrist. To his surprise, they circled his nipple with their thumb and pinched it, eliciting a gasp to rush down his throat, and moved to peck at the side of his neck.

"You want to do things a different way today?" their voice came out as a deep purr, "All you had to do was ask, my love. All you ever have to do is ask." They sat up, ghosting their hand over his throat and making him shiver once more. Damn them for being so intuitive; he had never felt so bare before anyone else in his life. With a soft grunt, he sat up and turned to face them, sitting on his knees and feeling conflicted.

"You don't think I'm asking too mu-" they placed their finger gently against his lips as he met their eyes. They were smiling, and he couldn't find a trace of haughtiness in the gesture. He tilted his head when their free hand rested against his cheek, their thumb stroking his skin gently.

"Not at all," they chuckled. "But I'll have to warn you," they narrowed their eyes at him, "I'm a lot nicer than you are, Star. I'll give you absolutely anything you want, as many times as you want." Their tone was playful, and they bent down to kiss him slowly, tangling their hands in his hair.

a/n: wowzers, first of all thank you for reading! the people who support this fic are actually cooler than everyone else, sorry not sorry this was so weird for me to write, astarion is a completely different beast from festé is. i like exploring his selfishness and conflicted thoughts, and i really hope the way that i wrote his little trip down memory lane isn't too confusing for the folks reading. love you all! stay squeaky! (you get sub!astarion, as a treat!)

[riversofmars]

So I've finally finished listening to Echoes (yes I had this boxset preordered since it was announced, and yes I was incredibly slow to listen to it) and how do Liv/Helen shippers keep winning even when we've already lost (coz Liv returning to Tania at the end of Stranded)??

From episode 2: "Helen - she's my...she's everything I have left"???? I screamed??

Episode 3 where Helen went and got Liv's stuff from the TARDIS but also got her a book in case she can't sleep and a bottle of water and an apple???

Every boxset since Stranded has had Liv be ferally gay over Helen (and has obviously confirmed our favourite lesbian is in fact a lesbian ofc)

And I'm so confused by what Big Finish is doing playing with our hearts like this - but I will also gleefully, and gayfully accept whatever Liv/Helen we can get. Thoughts?

Honestly, I have no idea what Big Finish are thinking other than

Who knows, maybe they have realised that Liv/Helen sells??? And that they made a mistake with the Stranded ending??

But seriously... I hope there is a point to it all. It really does feel like they're doing it on purpose, it's SO SHIPPY! Albie's Angels was just... HELEN CHENKA?! Come on. And you're so right. How easy would it have been to have Liv say "Helen is my best friend!". Having her break off mid-sentence is a conscious choice and you can't tell me otherwise. And that scene where Helen brings Liv all that stuff and then offers to go back? ADORABLE. They're everything.

Now the way I see it... For the ending of Stranded to make sense, it can only be one of two things really. Either Liv and Helen get together and Helen dies... and Liv returns to Tania cause she can't face being with the Doctor without Helen and she tries to bury her grief that way. It would be horrible and unfair, but it would make at least a little bit of sense, because why else would Liv Chenka, brilliant med-tech from the 30th century, want to be in 21st century London where she will be bored out of her mind and never see her sister again?? It just doesn't make sense for her character unless something fundamentally changed her like the death of the woman she loved. BUT LET'S NOT THINK LIKE THAT OR I'LL CRY.

The other option, and I'll hold on to this, is that maybe they all get a happy ending and there are two Livs somehow. We already know from the end of The Robots that there is a Liv duplicate out there. While that duplicate would only have the memories of up to Escape From Kaldor, that doesn't mean that something like that couldn't happen again. This is Doctor Who after all! Think of Rose getting her personal Doctor. Maybe they send a duplicate back to Tania so she gets to be happy too (and the Stranded ending that BF may have realised was silly will still work) and Liv and Helen stay together.

Honestly, who knows! But I will also hang on every scrap BF throw us. The Liv/Helen ship is sailing strong as ever and I think BF may have noticed and decided to cater to it.

I imagine it will be a while for another set for them (though I am curious as to Hattie's role in the Time War one, that will be interesting!) and I don't know if we will ever get a resolution for them, but in the meantime, I say let's be vocal about the ship on socials, hoping BF continue to take notice and give us everything we want. It seems to be working at the moment :D

[seramilla]

As Velvette tries to break Kiki and Clara up, she unintentionally caught feelings for Kiki. Velvette was already aware of her feelings for Clara, so it totally blew up in Velvette’s face when she caught feelings for Kiki. It makes Velvette slow down and have a dilemma because this is the first time she actually cares about what another person thinks of her.

Velvette can hardly stand being in Clara and Kiki’s presence without being a stuttering mess, and Velvette can hardly look them in the eye without a flushed face. And oh satan, velvet just noticed how soft Kiki’s hair looks and how Kiki’s dimples come out whenever she smiles.

(I’ve been coming around to the idea of a polycule between Kiki, Clara and Velvette. I also just need gay panic and lovesick Velvette)

Velvette just wants to know what this Kiki person has that she doesn't have! Of course, she's a succubus, so Clara is bound to fall in love with her. She has to have the Carmine girl under some kind of spell -- that's the only rational way to explain it! She's gorgeous, sure, but she's no Velvette! Everyone wants Velvette! She tries to compare herself to Kiki, to see what Clara could possibly see in her over an actual overlord like herself.

The two of them together are just sickening! It makes her throw up in her mouth a little, every time she sees the two of them in photos together. They are so love-struck, and happy. Clara is practically hanging off the succubus in every Heaven-forsaken picture. It's maddening. It's disgusting. Not only that, but it's...kind of diabetes-inducing adorable.

The way Kiki's hair looks. And the way her eyes sparkle, and the way Clara's face flushes even more crimson than normal, when they stare into each other's eyes...it's a spark Velvette has never allowed herself to show in any of their photos together. She catches herself blushing, as she's scrolling shamelessly through Clara's Sinstagram feed. She realizes what she's doing, and cries out, throwing her phone against the side of the couch. She scrunches up her knees against her chest, and shoves her face between them, flushing profusely.

The boys are celebrating Alastor's disappearance. They'll be pre-occupied with themselves for a while longer yet, which gives herself time to think. Think about these two women, and why they cause such a visceral, fumbling reaction out of her based on just a few photos. Velvette throws herself into the couch, burying her already mussed hair under a mountain of pillows, and groans audibly. What the fuck is going on with her?

[medusapelagia]

06 AU-gust: Domestic

Rating: Teen and up Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WT: homophobic language WC: 897

Eddie insisted that their house should have been the freedom house, where everyone was welcome and no one was judged.

That’s why, when they finally find a little two-bedroom apartment, they give the key to their apartment to everyone.

In their living room, either Steve or Eddie has had some very deep conversation.

Max has asked Steve if it’s normal to like both boys and girls and after a very long conversation about how normal it’s an adjective that shouldn’t even exist, they conclude that it is ok. 

Steve never asks if Max is thinking of someone in particular and she never tells him, but he is pretty sure that there is a very special girl that Max could be attracted to. 

On the other side, Eddie talks to Will a lot, either about D&D, music, or… sex.

He isn’t shy about his sexuality and Steve and he are always touching somehow, so Will feels comfortable enough to confess to him that he thinks he is gay and he is deeply in love with Mike.

It’s nice to see the kids act like kids and ask them the questions they are not comfortable asking their parents, but sometimes their house feel too small.

Steve has had a very horrible day at work: one of the customers has seen him kiss Eddie before getting to work and he kept insulting him while choosing his movies and when Steve refused to let him rent the movies he chose, Keith threatened him to fire him.

He has left the store without even knowing if he will have to go back to work tomorrow. He needs some place to vent, but when he gets home the kids are watching a movie with Eddie. 

“You are home soon.” Eddie tells him surprised “Did something happen?”

Steve shakes his head, he is a big boy. He can deal with his own shit.

“Keith gave me some free time. No one was renting movies at ten o’clock in the morning and I have done a lot of extra shifts this month.”

The last part, at least, is true.

Eddie hums, studying him like he could coax the truth out of him only with his stare, but Steve doesn’t falter. He has a long story of dealing with people who tried to break him harder than Eddie.

He takes a beer from the fridge and goes to his room.

Well. Their room.

Somehow they have decided that Steve’s room is the room where they sleep, and Eddie’s room is for everyone who needs a place for the night, usually Max or Robin.

He sits on the bed, gulping his beer as fast as he can. 

He needs to find another job. And fast. The rent is due in a couple of days and Eddie is still recovering from his injuries and he can’t ask him to start working to pay the rent.

He sighs, he could sell the car and buy a cheaper one.

A gentle knock on the door drags him out of his thoughts.

“Can I come in?”

“You don’t have to ask. You know that.”

Eddie smiles and sits next to Steve.

“You ok?”

“I’m good. Where are the kids?”

“I sent them home.”

“Why?”

“Because something happened and you need some time to vent.”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“And you were lying then and you are lying now.” He replies still smiling, then he lies on the bed and gestures to Steve to lie with him and he does, lying with his head on Eddie’s chest, feeling the gentle up and down of his chest and the constant beat of his heart.

There was a time when he really thought he would not be able to hear the stable thrum of his heart anymore.

Eddie’s long fingers are caressing his scalp when he finally breaks.

“I think Keith is going to fire me.”

“He always threatens you, but he never does.”

“I refused to serve a customer.”

Eddie’s fingers stay still for a moment, then they keep their motion.

“Why?”

“He was rude.”

“Ruder than me?”

“He… he called me names.” He finally admits.

“Which names, baby?” 

“Just… names.”

“Like sweetheart? Or pumpkin? Or sweet pie?” Eddie asks, kissing his head every time until Steve starts to giggle.

“Not that kind of name.”

“So which ones?”

Steve Sighs, burying his head in the crook of Eddie’s neck “Fag. And fairy. And he told me that my father is ashamed of me and that he never thought that the town’s golden boy would have ended up with…”

“With some trailer trash?” Eddie asks sweetly, his fingers still deep in Steve’s hair.

He nods, not wanting to move.

“Are you ashamed of yourself, baby?”

“No but…”

“I know it hurt, baby, and I’m really sorry it happened to you.” He kisses the crown of his head “I don’t think that Keith will fire you, but if you want to find a new job we will find a new one.”

“But I'm good at nothing!” Steve complaints.

“You are good at so many things, and what you are not good at you can learn.” He kisses him again “Now rest a little, uh? I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

Steve nods but doesn’t move.

“Baby?”

“Can you stay a little bit?”

Eddie smiles, holding him tighter “As long as you like, baby.”

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Guesses as to what’s going to happen in Daniel Kitson’s current radio show (sorry that this is of interest to no one, sometimes these are just for me to keep myself entertained):

- The final episode will be another one that’s an hour and 55 minutes of songs followed by five minutes of back announcing. Every track will be something he composed and played himself on his synthesizer. The back announcing will claim each song was by a different person. These people will mainly be current DJs of commercial radio stations, people who DJed on commercial radio stations twenty years ago, comedy comperes who’ve annoyed him at any point in the last twenty years, YouTubers who talk about coffee, and for reasons no one can figure out, members of the royal family.

In the middle of the 110 minutes of electronica, there will be exactly one song with lyrics. These lyrics will be spoken by Gavin Osborn, but with his voice edited to sound exactly like Tim Key’s, just because Daniel Kitson wants to prove he’s able to do that (though of course, it won’t prove anything since he won’t tell anyone it’s not really Tim Key). They will be the time, date, and location of a show he’s doing next month and will not announce anywhere else, because he doesn’t want anyone to come to it unless they were willing to sit through a whole episode of synthesizer music.

- The above, but the lyrics are actually a time, date, and location said backwards, so you can only understand it if you play the track backwards. When people get to that location at the specified time, there’s no gig, Daniel Kitson isn’t there. There’s just a sign that says if you could play his radio show backwards that means you downloaded it, even though you’re not supposed to do that, and he hates you.

- The thing he said about “What if I witness a murder across the street?” is actually where he’s going with this. Halfway through the month the guy across the street is going to murder his boyfriend, and Daniel Kitson will witness it. The last two weeks will be spent on him trying to untangle what happened. It’s a very compelling murder mystery, but unfortunately it leads to Daniel Kitson getting canceled for writing a radio drama that employs the Bury Your Gays trope.

- He was never “going” anywhere with a story, the gay couple across the street is real and he really has just been telling us what his neighbours are doing. Halfway through January, he witnesses one of them murdering the other, and he tries to tell people but no one believes him because they think he’s doing a bit for his radio show. He still gets canceled, because people think he wrote a Bury Your Gays murder.

- At the end, it’ll turn out he actually recorded the whole thing from his camper van that’s parked on a street in Edinburgh, and was using artificial sound effects to make it seem like he was in his house.

- At the end, he announces he’s quitting comedy to become an electronica musician. He never achieves the success in music that he had in comedy (because, you know, it’s terrible), but he really enjoys it and that’s what matters.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Fics Written In 2017 Masterlist

All That You Are (All That I'll Ever Need) (ao3) - orphan_account michael/luke, calum/ashton, niall/harry N/R, 4k

Summary: Calum and Ashton are planning a wedding which is causing a lot of stress and Luke is struggling with the fact that he is 32 and very very single.

A New Beginning (ao3) - sugarysnaps michael/calum M, 10k

Summary: He could see the rapid waves overtaking the burning bridge he stood his ground on, could see the flames of their past be washed away and deserted; abandonment leading their lives to one of forgotten moments and buried pasts. They were intertwined at the deepest of levels, every step Michael took was in an attempt to catch up to him, every breath he inhaled followed shortly after his, the lifelines on their hands were etches of each other- stories that had been lived, were being lived, and would be lived. They always came back to each other in the end, every ending merely another beginning, the cycle of themselves starting over once more. It never changed. They never changed.

A Soulmate AU

Blue Masquerade (ao3) - CalumSmiles (dreamforlife) michael/luke E, 85k

Summary: Michael is in love with Luke. That much is clear. Well, to Calum, Ashton and the rest of the world anyway. Luke is blissfully oblivious to the blatant signs. He gets a girlfriend. Michael tries to move on.

Spoiler: he fails.

Complication In Your Heart (ao3) - DracosPubicHair michael/luke E, 29k

Summary: Michael has killed over 10 people and has never been caught, and maybe Luke is just as crazy.

Cursed With A Blessing (ao3) - orphan_account michael/luke M, 156k

Summary: “Well, this probably sounds crazy and not many people know about this,” Dr London started, looking at both of us before finally revealing the results of the ultrasound: “Mr. Hemmings, you are about 12 weeks pregnant with what I believe is Mr. Clifford’s child.”

And while I still tried to process what I had just learnt, Luke burst into tears beside me. Just as if he’d already known.

_____________

When Luke asked Arzaylea to pretend to be his girlfriend, he did it because he wanted to protect his relationship with Michael. For a while everyone is happy with the agreement - the fans are being fooled, their managers are oblivious.

But suddenly there are too many positive tests, too many worries, too many fake friends and the tree find themselves drowning in a whole sea of lies they told…

Gay For Pay (ao3) - Bibsibi luke/ashton M, 10k

Summary: Luke and Ashton are roomates and broke.

I'm not sick (ao3) - orphan_account michael/luke N/R, 4k

Summary: 5SOS have worldwide tour. One day Luke got sick and doesn't wanna admit it. And Michael is the one who have to deal with Luke.

Jet Black Shoe (ao3) - Emmybazy luke/calum T, 12k

Summary: Calum is sick and tired of it. He cooks, cleans, and runs errands for his 12 fraternity brothers with little thanks. Their fraternity is ruled by an evil President who keeps Calum busy and out of the spotlight. Calum is forbidden from competing for a chance to tour with Luke Hemmings, but what will happen with help from a little theater magic and some good music?

Or, Luke is a pop prince and Calum is his bad-ass bassist Cinderella.

Lessons With Ashton (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance michael/ashton E, 35k

Summary: Michael’s boyfriend, Calum, was coming back after two years at uni and Calum had told him he was looking forward to spend some special time with him. That was when Michael’s best friend, Luke, who thought he was a desperate case, decided Michael needed help and according to him, there was no one better than Ashton for that job. Michael had to learn some exciting things to please his boyfriend and Ashton had to loosen Michael up before his boyfriend’s arrival. That was how Michael found himself in front of the door of a stranger, in order to spice up his sex life, as Luke had put it.

Let's Play Pretend (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance michael/luke, calum/ashton M, 20k

Summary: Luke was happy with his boyfriend Alex; their lives were simple and easy, with lots of happy-filled moments. Then came Michael, who decided to play pretend for a while and be his twin; being the playful one, it was all in good fun and no harm was intended. But somehow, Luke was liking the new Alex, who was wild on a whole other level, and it was like he was falling in love all over again. When he realised the person he had been spending so much time with, was not Alex but Michael, he did not put an end to things; he wanted more of what Michael had to offer.

like we always will (ao3) - orphan_account luke/calum T, 6k

Summary: Under any other circumstance, Luke would go back to bed, blowing off whoever it is he’s supposed to be meeting up with that day in exchange of a few extra hours of sleep—but he can’t. Not today. He’s writing with Calum today.

Number One (ao3) - iCheeseYou (EHkook) michael/luke T, 3k

Summary: Michael hasn't seen his musician of a best friend in a year since he left for a world tour.

Pseudoephedrine (ao3) - thecoloursinthegravel luke/ashton N/R, 14k

Summary: Pseudoephedrine: A nasal decongestant drug that, when abused, causes an unpleasant high. Symptoms include increased heart rate and blood pressure, nausea, restlessness, dysphoria, feelings of disconnection to reality, severe anxiety, and paranoia.

//

Luke falls asleep easily that night, wrapped around Ashton like how silk dresses cling to skin in the wind. Luke is stuck to Ashton in a way he hopes is delicate. A ringing in his ears suggests the wind has turned into a storm. He does not mind.

spread your wings for me (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton NR, 32k

Summary: He likes watching Luke cough on smoke from a joint, or cry when he gets his lip pierced, or whine when he rides Ashton filthily. He likes the bruises he leaves on Luke’s thighs, and he likes that Luke has to wear turtlenecks to hide his hickeys covering his neck.

He likes destroying Luke’s innocence one little piece at a time.

And this is just another piece that he’s taking for himself.

Or the one where Ashton likes to watch Luke pray, and Luke is more than happy to serve the bad boy of the school.

take the pieces, build them skywards (ao3) - orphan_account luke/calum E, 24k

Summary: All the anger and injustice bubbles up inside of him again at the thought, rising like bile in the back of his throat as he shoves his forehead into the back of Luke’s neck, squinting his eyes shut against his hair. He pulls Luke closer to his chest, thinking he’ll be safe there, but it might already be too late.

“Cal,” Luke says quietly. “Calum.”

A warmth spreads through Calum at the sound of his name, soft and steady from Luke’s mouth. He shifts his arm, tightening the hold he’s now got on the front of Luke’s t-shirt as he feels Luke’s fingers stroke down the back of his hand.

(or, during the recording process of their new album, Luke grows his hair out and Calum realises a couple of things.)

Tempest (ao3) - merlypops michael/calum, luke/ashton E, 314k

Summary: Calum’s best friends are falling apart, Mali is gone, and Calum just wants to be perfect.

The Sun Will Rise (ao3) - JetBlackSunshine T, 131k

Summary: ‘It’s hard to see the enemy, When you’re looking at yourself. Maybe your reflection shows you screaming out for help.’ Luke doesn’t expect much from his new school; however it soon becomes apparent that his time spent there isn’t going to be like the rest of them. Entangled in a web of family secrets and those of his new classmates working out who to trust and how to survive become more important than ever.

Touchy Feely (ao3) - sammyswagstar ot4 E, 9k

Summary: The fic with demisexual Michael and ot4 that no one asked for. Michael gets handsy in the shower with his best friends and they take advantage of him, before they all get their happy ending. Pun intended?

Trapped Under Your Spell (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance michael/luke, calum/ashton M, 21k

Summary: Luke was happy with his girlfriend Bella; their lives were simple and easy, with lots of happy-filled moments. Then came Michaela, who decided to play pretend for a while and be her twin while her sister was away; being the playful one, it was all in good fun and no harm was intended. But somehow, Luke was liking the new ‘Bella’, who was wild on a whole other level and she was damn hot, and it was like he was falling in love all over again. When Luke realised the person he had been spending so much time with, was not Bella but Michaela, instead of ending everything, he allowed things to keep going. But to what extent?

This is basically the story of a straight guy, his girlfriend's lesbian sister, their two gay best friends and how they fell in love.

Yeah, I Want You Baby (ao3) - flowercrownmikey michael/luke M, 4k

Summary: "That what you wanna do, princess? Fuck the delinquent right outta me?"

OR// Officer! Luke and Bad Boy! Michael.

[gabenvrhappened]

MusicOr... Honey and One Of Your Girls by Troye Sivan

Favorite Lyrics (Honey): Give me the courage to say all the shit I mean ⬩ Give me a song to rock your body, a lucid dream ⬩ I don't know how I'm gonna tell you what you really mean ⬩ Give me that honey, honey, love you've got the recipe ⬩⬩ You know I see love in every space ⬩ I see sex in every city, every town ⬩ I wonder what us two could make;

Favorite Lyrics (One Of Your Girls): Everybody loves you, baby ⬩ You should trademark your face ⬩⬩ Give me a call if you ever get desperate ⬩ I'll be like one of your girls;

Later in December last year, I decided that I wanted to give a chance to some records, Troye's Something To Give Each Other included. However, even though I tried, only Rush had sparked my attention (with its fervidly wild music video that encapsulates the intensity of being queer), and when I played the album again, nothing stood out. Troye is a kind of a mystery to me. I love a few songs of his, but there's something on his timbre that doesn't fit my ears. So, my only choice was to let it set aside for a diferent moment.

Fast forward to me watching Anyone But You — a good movie, but not worthy a whole post on my Tumblr, as of now at least (the movie had such insane moments, an attempt, I reckon, to try to be different from all the rom-cons out there, that I'm still trying to understand if I liked it) — and Got Me Started started playing on the boat scene and somehow it got stuck on me. Then I decided to play the album and was feeling like it was interesting. Then Honey came on and, well, you know how it is.

The song had me right from the beginning with the "give me the courage to say all the shit I mean" line, because that's just what I feel all the time. Being me is a non-stop work of finding the courage to be who I am and say what I feel and want to. Sometimes, it's easy so I don't even notice I'm complimenting a tattoo on a random guy at the gym. Other times, I'm too in my head to even function, so I block everything and let my anxiety speak louder than anyone else in the room.

Another line comes on, "you know I see love in every space" and, again, that's just too me. A few seconds in and I was completely sold. Maybe it's more poetic in Troye's life, but in mine seeing love in every space is just too tragic, so it's something I'm trying to learn not to do (not all the time at least). When the chorus comes in again, the beat just makes me want to get up and dance my feelings out. I actually did that and it was incredible.

For me, this song stands on the opposite spectrum of One Of Your Girls, which feels so accurate in portraying a very usual (and hopeless) feeling in the LGBTQIA+ world. It's a song that has this seductive alluring atmosphere that can easily fool an unadvised soul, with its haunting distoreted chorus, and sensual music video, but the meaning behind it's honestly a lot sad and tragic, and it's a shame that it's a concept that's been buried deep down in every gay kid's mind — mine included — that comes back unconsciously in every daily decision we made. I mean, in the video we have a female model version of Troye seducing a straight men, Ross Lynch, as a clear example that we are always hoping to get the tough stud guy.

Honey, on the other hand, comes to the other side of the rainbow as a positive reminder that, apart from the sentimental problems we all grew up with and that we always have to face just for being who we are, there's a treasure chest full of hope at the end of every rough journey. And if a song shows me hope, in such a sweet name and form, then I embrace it. Hope is never enough, after all, and I can use some right now.

[crackspinewornpages]

War and Peace 60/198 -Leo Tolstoy

51 

In March, a relay of horses were sent to meet a doctor from Moscow, Maria watched her old nurse Nyanya Savichna as she told a story of how Maria’s mother delivered her with just a midwife, doctors are never needed. (well doctors were brought up and a woman is pregnant so Chekov’s gun goes off) The wind blows open a window and the nurse sees someone coming up the drive, Maria runs down believing it is the doctor but it is her brother Andrei, thin and pale, wearing an old coat, he collapsed in Maria’s arms. Andrei sees his wife, she doesn’t understand the significance of his appearance and he kisses her and calls her endearing things he never said before. The obstetrician takes his place and Andrei and Maria hear screams from the room and Andrei is confused why there would be a baby in there, then cries when he realizes it’s his, 

The doctor comes out and wouldn’t say a word to him and Andrei stopped at the threshold, Lisa was dead but her eyes spoke. “I love you all, and I have done no one any harm, and what have you done to me?”p.191 Two hours later Andrei went to his father who already knew but held his son and cried. Three days later she was buried., Andrei felt he had done wrong that can never be forgotten, five days later his son was christened Prince Nikolai Andreyitch. (and his hair didn’t sink but floated in the water so it’s seen as good luck) 

52 

The part Rostof played in the duel was ignored with the old Count’s efforts and instead was appointed an aide to a Governor General in Moscow. So instead of going to the country with his family he had to stay in Moscow, after Dolokhof recovered the two became friends. In autumn the Rostof family returned and in winter Denisof came back it was a (very gay time) happier winter for Rostof and his family, he brought home many young men. (I swear this book is so gay) Every young man noticed the women, Vera, Natasha and Sonya but everyone except Natasha was pleased with Dolokhof. She almost fought her brother about it insisting Pierre had a right to duel him, he was insincere, Denisof is a spendthrift, but she likes him and warns everything (not unfounded) Dolokhof does has an ulterior motive, he’s even in love with Sonya but Rostof calls it nonsense. 

On the third day of the Christmas holidays Rostof and Denisof dined at a farewell dinner, they were going to start their regiments after Epiphany. Never before had there been such love and passion at Christmas time at the Rostof house. Rostof felt it when arriving and noticed the embarrassment among a few, Natasha said she told him but he didn't listen, Dolokhof proposed to Sonya. Rostof felt a pang, but it wasn’t like the orphan Sonya had a more brilliant match, but he still felt indignation against her. Natasha then says she refused him saying she loves another, but Natasha knows Rostof will never marry her. Rostof says she knows nothing, and he must go talk to her. Rostof kisses Sonya’s hand and tries to talk to her, she tells him not to think of their love before, she loves him like a brother and that is enough. 

53 

Rostof didn’t see Dolokhof for two days, the third day he sent a note saying he knows why he won’t return but join him at the English hotel for a farewell supper. At the dinner table Dolokhof’s eyes were cold as he played cards, Rostof felt ill at ease. Dolokhof had the frame of mind of being bored of life’s monotony and felt to escape it by an outrageous action. Rostof joined the game and kept losing, but with no money Dolokhof promised him to settle their accounts afterwards as Rostof’s losses grew to eight hundred rubles. Dolokhof asks if he’s afraid of him, Rostof watched the pack of cards in his hands, Rostof’s two thousand rubles has to last until May. Rostof demands the card and then will never pick up another in his life, by losing he could lose his whole happy life. (so put them down now) Dolokhof again asks if he’s afraid to play against him and warns them all to be on guard against him. (he’s even warning you like a cartoon villain Rostof) He deals the cards and Rostof lost more than he can play. (dammit Rostof) 

54 

The sums racked up to over twenty thousand and Dolokhof no longer listened to stories but watched Rostof’s mounting debt and decided to play until he lost forty-three thousand rubles since it was the sum of he and Sonya’s ages. Rostof wondered why he was treating him this way, he knows what this loss means, he was his friend, he loved him but he can't help it if luck favors him. He’s done nothing wrong, then why this horrible misfortune, when did it begin, a short time ago he was happy to make a little winnings. When did this happiness end, what does it signify, it can't end this way. 

When the losses reached forty-three thousand rubles (that’s about 300k today Rostof fucked up) Dolokhof declared it time for supper, Rostof insists one more game and Dolokhof relents for twenty-one rubles and Rostof lost. Dolokhof asks when he plans to pay him and reveals he knew his cousin was in love with him. Rostof knew what a blow this debt to his family would be and released Dolokhof knew this too and kept playing him and told Dolokhof he’ll pay him tomorrow.  

55 

At home his family was still up, he avoided their eyes, Sonya asked what was wrong. Natasha also perceived his troubles but told herself she is wrong. He left to his room without saying anything, fifteen minutes later he met his father and confessed to him he needed forty three thousand, that this kind of thing can happened to anyone, (losing 300k in a card game when your family is already having financial troubles) and his father left the room. Meanwhile, downstairs, Natasha told her mother that Denisof proposed and she doesn’t believe it, Denisof is a fool then. Natasha says for her mother not to tell him she doesn't love him for her, but she can listen at the door. She refuses him and the Countess tells him he should have addressed her first to not have forced her into an unavoidable refusal. Denisof says he adores the family and Nastasha and leaves and refuses Rostof’s calls to return to Moscow. Rostof spent two weeks waiting for the money his father struggled to find at short notice after paying Dolokhof he left for his regiment in Poland. 

PART FIFTH 

56 

1807, the Battle of Eylau the Russians were deemed victors but the French advanced in June, the forces drew up at Friedland into east Prussia, another victory for Napoleon. Peace is forced unitarily on Russia but Tsar Alexander is ready for it the two meet at Tilst Napoleon is deemed the master of the continent, only Britain fights on. 

After the settlement Pierre went to Petersburg, he had to wait for horses at Torzhak, not responding he was too deep in thought to pay attention around him. He pondered rights and wrongs and power that directs it all, only an illogical answer, but the thought of death was terrible to him. “Thou shalt die–all will come to an end! Thou shalt die and know all, or else cease to question.”p.205 He sees a ragged peddler, everything is equally unimportant to eternity of death. “Would this money of mine add the value of a single hair to her happiness, to her peace of mind? Can anything on earth make her or me in the least degree less susceptible to evil and death?”p.205 (pretty sure a few pennies would make that poor woman happy really what is this rich person money doesn’t bring happiness logic) 

Another traveler arrives, an old man with a skull ring, (I actually thought this was death or something) and he knows who Pierre is and what's happened and is sorry for him and wants to help him. He belongs to the Brotherhood of Freemasons and Pierre is afraid they won't understand each other but he knows how Pierre thinks. “and this system you mention, and which seems to you the product of your brain, is that common to most men; it is uniformly the hurt of pride, idleness and arogance.”p.206 

Pierre confesses he doesn’t believe in God and the old man says that’s why he’s unhappy but he’s here and in him, in his words, if he didn’t exist they wouldn't be talking about him. Pierre listened to his arguments impressed by him and he designed to believe and as he did experienced a restoration of life. Pierre doesn’t know how to attain that knowledge, is he content with his life no he detests it, then change to undergo self-purification and he will learn. He’s been living a life of debauchery and giving nothing, what has he done with his wealth, his wife, that duel, there's no wisdom in it. Pierre doesn’t wish to continue his depraved life but won't say it to the Mason and asks for help, he can only get that from God, but he can give a measure and gives him a letter for Count Villarski and advises not to fall back to his former life and wishes him success. Pierre later found out he was Ossip Alekseyevitch Bazdeyef and thought of his way of living. 

57 

Arriving in Petersburg, Pierre informed no one and just read Thomas a Kempis and understood the delight of faith. After a week Count Villaski came to his room for a proposition, a high member had proposed him to be his sponsor to join the Brotherhood of Freemasons, he’ll join. And does he believe in God, yes. They toured in Valliski’s carriage, who said all he had to do was speak the truth in the anteroom of a large mansion. They put on cloaks and went into another room and Pierre was blindfolded the rest of the way and left alone. 

He heard knocks and took off the blindfold and saw a small man who asked what does he desire, wisdom, virtue, enlightenment, he wants help towards regeneration. The small man is satisfied with his reply. If he joins their fraternity their aims are handing down an important mystery and prepare fellow members to correct their hearts and gives Pierre a half hour to think it over and gives him their seven virtues apply himself to, the seventh the love of death. Pierre thought it ought to be so, but he just started loving life. Since he’s agreed to join for generosity, give him everything he owns and Pierre strips himself of his valuables. Then he’s told to strip and tell his chief predilection, women. The Mason blindfolded him again and is told to examine himself to seek his happiness and Pierre already began to feel it. (yes Pierre just striped naked to join a cult) 

58 

The next day Pierre was reading at home trying to understand the spiritual world, the Emperor heard of his duel and believed it would be wise to leave Petersburg for a while. He thought to visit his southern estates and check on the peasantry when Vasili came to his room protesting Helene’s innocence. Several times Pierre tried to speak but Vasili kept interrupting, it’s the hardest task to say something unpleasant to his farther in law. He was used to giving into Vasili’s easy self confidence but what he had to say would decide his life, Pierre told Vasili to leave his house. (at least Pierre is starting to grow a spine) After a week Pierre gave the Masons a large sum of his wealth and departed to his estates, they gave him letters to the Masons of Kiev and Odesca to guide him. 

59 

Pierre and Dolokhof ‘s duel was hushed up despite the Emperor’s status of it neither were punished but gossip of it spread. Pierre fell out of favor in society and is said he has his father's temper while Helene was gladly returned to society and her disfigured expression when he is mentioned was taken to mean she made up her mind to endure her unhappiness. 1806 was when news spread of Napoleon's defeat of Jena and Auerstadt, a second command was beginning. Anna Pavlovna had another party with Boris as the guest of honor. 

Thanks to his mother Boris obtained a very advantageous position and with self-control mastered subordination, but now his mode of life and his future have changed. Rather than appear shabby he would spend every one of his few pennies to look immaculate and better dressed than everyone. He took to only high society because they would be an advantage to him, his previous life of Moscow of the Rostof’s and Natasha’s were distasteful. (oh what now that you’re at the popular table you ditch your friends) On receiving Anna Pavlovna’s invitation he knew what part he had to play to get an advantage from each guest. Helene gave him undivided attention when he spoke of Glogau and agreed to come to visit her and Anna Pavlovna warned him not to bring up her husband. When Boris went to see her on Tuesday, he didn’t know why he was invited, no one else was there, and when he left she invited him to dinner. (has she already started scoping out new potential husbands) 

60 

The war was growing fiercer and closing in, people cursed Napoleon and rumors spread the lives of Prince Bolkonsky, Andrei and Maria changed significantly since 1805. The old Prince was appointed one of eight commanders in chief of the Russian militia, he spent his time traveling about the three provinces entrusted to him straight to the smallest detail. Soon after Andrei’s return the two fought and he was sent to the estate of Bogucharovo in Lisiya Gori and Andrei went unable to stand his father's idiosyncrasies and wanting solitude. After Austerlitz Andrei made up his mind to give up the military life and accepted a position under his father to recruit for the militia. 

March 1807, Little Nikolai had been sick for several days when the old Prince sent him a letter that Benigsen was victorious over Napoleon at Eylauand, he’s retreating. He read Bilibin’s letter, he was now a diplomatic official of the army headquarters and described the whole campaign to the disinterested Andrei. The principal officer of Glogau asked the king of Prussia what would he do if told to surrender since the Prussians lay down their arms at the first summons. (thought it was the French and Italians they were stereotyped as being surrendering cowards) Everything is ready, but they lack a general in chief. He is summoned to help sort letters and packages and the Marshal is impatient for his, in rage he read what the Emperor wrote to others. He wrote to the Emperor he transferred command to Count Buxhouden and he himself will remain at the hospital at Ostrolenka since he’s so infirmed and warns if the army remains in bivouac there won’t be any soldiers left and he wants retirement. ”The marshal is vexed with the emperor. And punishes all of us for it. Isn’t that logical?”p.221 

After the Marshal left they were in sight of the enemy and had to fight, General Benigsen disagreed with the order of Buxhovden’s position since he’s anxious to fight on his own account and did and won the Battle of Pultusk but Bilibin disagrees. “We civilians have, as you are well aware, a very wretched habit of making up our own minds in regard to the gain on loss of a battle. The one who retires after the battle is the loser, so we say, and in this respect we lost the battle of Pultusk.”p.221 They sent news of victory the general refused to surrender to Buxhovden during this was a scheme of maneuvers to avoid General Buxhovden. When Buxhovden caught up to them the two generals fought and Benigsen had a seizure. (the armie’s disciplined finest as you can see) As news of victory of Pultusk is returned enemy one is done, now enemy two Napoleon, but a third enemy rises. The orthodox troops are marauding over lack of food and supplies twice the headquarters were attacked. The Emperor gave permission to shoot the looters but Bilibin feared it would have one half of the army shoot the other half.  

NEXT

[lydia--pereira]

general:

Name: Lydia Pereira Age: 30 years old Birthdate: Sept. 20th, 1992                                       ☼ Virgo                                       ☾ Scorpio                                       ↗ Sagittarius  Born: Lockwood Springs, CO Occupation: Staff @ Mile High Aesthetics: PINTEREST. Likes: Anything women do, good tips, nice customers, two days off in a row, running marathons, rock climbing, to-do lists, unplanned parties Dislikes: Anything men do, rude customers, spencer jones’ face, her parents, bigotry, being called sweetheart or honey Good Qualities: Athletic, Forthright, Gallant Bad Qualities: Prankster, Reckless, Callous Orientation: Lesbian

diving deeper:

Lydia was born and raised in Southside, Lockwood Springs and she had fairly strict parents while she was growing up. Many of her school friends will remember Lydia arriving in school in one set of clothes and quickly running to the bathrooms to change into something more stylish. Her mother and father were religious and usually dragged her to church every Sunday against her will.

Lydia excelled more in sports than her academics, but she was a bright student too. She wasn't often a troublemaker but she was known to play a few pranks on teachers which got out of hand on a few occasions.

She always knew that she was different while she was growing up, when all her friends had crushes on boys in their school, she couldn't see the appeal. She figured it was just because they were stupid, but she later fell into a secret relationship with one of her close friends. Lydia knew she'd never be able to come out to her parents, and eventually broke the relationship off completely.

Lydia tried to bury this side of herself and ignore that it was there, figuring it was just a phase or she was being rebellious for the sake of it. She never dated another woman again, mostly out of fear of admitting to herself that she was gay.

After graduating, Lydia floated around from job to job. She's waited on tables, worked at the motel and the bed and breakfest. She's been behind Flanagan's bar and showed her face at laundromats and the like. Nothing has ever been the right fit as she grows bored easily.

In an attempt to cover up her sexuality, Lydia dated Spencer Jones. She was convinced that she'd be able to prove to herself and the world that she was straight but the relationship was a disaster. Not only was Spencer hung up on Cricket, Lydia was trying to build the perfect relationship just for the sake of her parents.

Eventually the two split which wasn't a surprise and the complete clash of their personalities means they weren't even able to remain friends. Lydia to this day doesn't much care for any of the Joneses either.

Lydia still isn't out of the closet but she knows she won't be able to keep the facade up for long. She's accepted herself but still has the fear of her family's reaction. She now works at Mile High and picks up bartend work during the off season. She's affiliated to the keepers simply because of the places she's worked and how close she was to a lot of the bikers growing up.

[prettysweetprettysweet]

if you want to get a real scary look into my psyche even as a kid in middle school and high school i looooooooved the feeling of being the only person that a very mean person was kind to. i was 100 percent the perfect target for bullies- visibly poor, visibly gay, something weird going on with my gender. I did get bullied a lot but i always tried to be relentlessly kind and thoughtful, and I had won over some of my bullies this way. there was a girl named Rhonda who was an absolute terror to anyone who crossed her path, but whenever she saw me she would immediately drop the act and want to talk to me in a natural way. It was an incredible feeling. maybe it was a self-satisfied 'damn i really did beat you at this game didn't i' type of feeling, or maybe it fed into that need to feel different like 'i'm the only person who could have done this.'

anyway, that's probably one of the reasons I'm so obsessed with VegasxPete. The thought of one solitary person in all of Vegas' life being such a perfect combination of empathetic, wholesome, optimistic, funny, insightful, and thoughtful that they are able to pull out a Vegas who is unencumbered by his pain and trauma, freeing him to be all the things that he never thought he could be: loving, affectionate, playful, spirited...that thought is exquisite.

i'm so delighted by the blood type conversation because it illustrates this perfectly - for a minute Vegas was not just the eldest son of an abusive mafia boss in a family that is floundering on the verge of collapse, he was also a boy who was absolutely tickled by the cuteness of another boy in front of him, delivering playfully antagonistic barbs in hopes of eliciting further conversation with the boy he has a crush on whose silliness leaves him feeling delighted.

it is almost guaranteed that Vegas hasn't felt anything like that since his mother died. and there is absolutely no one else on earth that he could have had such an authentically joyful moment with - not even Macau, because he hides his pain and suffering from Macau. so much of the power of that moment with Pete comes from the fact that he is able to experience these positive emotions with a person who has also seen the ugliest and saddest parts of him - and so, the act of expressing positivity and happiness doesn't feel deceitful or encumbered by the weight of every single one of Vegas' unspoken troubles. it is an entirely candid moment between two people who are nothing but candid with each other, and Vegas' face shines and he lets his voice reflect the lightness and absurdity of their fun conversation.

Pete is special, only Pete could do that. Pete was the only one who contained the delicacy and skill to unearth the treasures that Vegas had buried away, and so he is the one who gets to bask in their glory.

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Scherzo (Chapter Six; Part One)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Dreams turn into reality on smokey breaths. Inner turmoil melts away with the touch from warm skin. Promises make the evening decisions go from complicated to deliciously easy.

Content | Fluff, slight smut warning, tw soft drugs (marijuana)

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 4421

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy  @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic​ @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys​ @luvbadass​ @buttercup-beeee​ @navs-bhat​ @etaerealboyv​ @tryymebitch​ @mell-bell​ @fenhakwe​ @solacestyles​ @softforlukescurls​ @vicsangel​ @theimpossiblehologramtree​ @alina-exe​ @cherricola66​

***

Soft skin against his fingers. A hand running down his chest to his pants. Heavy breathing filling the room. The flesh underneath him felt warm and welcoming, hot to the touch and begging for more. Her perfume filled his senses as she pulled him close. Nails running down his back. Whispers of "amore mio, just like that", "keep going,” “cara mia, vita mia, please".

A “Dami, fuck” leaving her lips as his hand started gripping her thighs. Running between them, as she threw her head back, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on it. Biting her neck. Coaxing more moans out of him, on a mission to make him lose his mind. She was heaven on earth. Supple breasts moving with every breath as he let his mouth descend on them, one at a time, desperate to consume all of her. Kissing every inch of her, exploring her until he knew about every curve, every ridge, every little spot of her body. He wanted to know all the secrets she ever had. Drawing noises out of her that he wanted to keep hearing for the rest of his life. Her hands on his shoulders, on his back, on his arse. Pulling him further into her. Letting his mouth wander lower, getting wrapped up between her legs. She looked at him with dark eyes, nodding, and he was ready to suffocate in between her thighs.

Wait, was he actually suffocating on her thighs?

Damiano woke up with a start, face pressed deeply into the pillow, restricting his breathing in a way that was much less sexy than the one in his dream. A circle of drool had escaped his mouth and dropped onto the pillow. Well, that's embarrassing, he thought to himself.

He was in the middle of pushing himself up and out of bed, highly aware of the situation in his boxers - only to be interrupted when a knock on the door startled him. Trying to wrap the sheet around him, suddenly overly self-conscious of his state, he hastened to the door, almost tripping several times on the way. When he finally unlocked and opened it, he just about let his head appear in the opening, awkwardly hiding between the door still. Y/n’s face was painted in confusion. He forgot how stunning she really was, his brain not even coming close to painting her image in his dreams.

“Yes, hi, good morning, I’m up! I’ll be down in an hour!” He was rushing to finish his sentence, not giving her a chance to reply before he let the door fall back into its lock. A deep breath out. Her face instilled in his mind like a photograph, unable to be separated from the extremely vivid dream he’d just had. He felt bad. He had essentially slammed the door in her face while wrapped up in a bedsheet. Not a very good impression considering he liked the woman behind the door. This was going to be such a long day.

***

“Why are you so awkward?” Victoria nudged Damiano as they had settled on a couch on the bus. He had been looking off since she had first seen him that morning, which was odd. Especially considering he was usually more of an early bird than the rest of them. “Sleep badly? Bad dreams? Good dreams? Or did you scare Y/n away again with another morning wood incident.”

Damiano’s face burned up as if suddenly ignited, making Victoria gasp.

“Oh my god, did you?!” She smacked his chest with her hand as she let out a gasp.

“I wasn’t even aware you knew about the first time,” Damiano mumbled, slumping down deeper into the seat. Crawling into the shirt he was wearing. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“Word travels fast on tour, you should know that by now,” she giggled, repositioning so she had her legs spread across his thighs. “So what happened?”

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” he scoffed. Victoria’s grin only spread further, though. She was loving this side of Damiano more than she would like to admit - shy, awkward, unsure of himself. He was one of the best people she knew, an amazing frontman, a talented musician, a loyal friend. Yet with one little addition to the team he had turned into a quivering mess.

“You know I’m just going to ask Y/n what happened, right?”

“Yeah good luck with that, she didn’t even notice. At least I hope not.”

“Wait - so you hid your boner from her? I mean, at least you didn’t traumatise her again. What happened though, did you have some good times before the wake-up call?” She once again nudged him obnoxiously, loving how uncomfortable she was making him. “Did you have a wet dream? Did- Oh my god, you’re blushing, you did have a wet dream! Tell me everything! Was it hot? Did she go down on you or something? Did you see her tits?”

“Fuck off Victoria, I’m not telling you anything, now stop! It’s no like-”

“Hi! Attention, everyone! I know it's early and everyone is probably still asleep. But - announcements! That includes you Thomas,” Y/n said pulling the curtain of the guitarist’s bunk back so he could listen too.

Victoria noticed how their assistant didn’t seem spooked by Damiano’s presence at all - it seemed like he had been right after all. She hadn’t noticed a thing. If only those two would stop playing cat and mouse and finally do something, anything, she thought.

"Now, I know we're all excited about going to Amsterdam today, and I'm not looking at anyone in particular here," she explained as she shot a pointed look at Damiano that no one missed. "But I have one ground rule: no weed before the show. You got tomorrow off, so whatever you do after the performance tonight is none of my business. But god help you if I find you with a joint in hand any time before that."

She smiled, but Victoria had no doubts she would be deadly serious if it came to it. Y/n passed out a map of the local area, highlighting the Leidseplein in the middle of town, and in red circles were the venue, the hotel they were staying at, restaurants, and several coffeeshops, all within easy walking distance.

“Do with that what you like,” she concluded. ”As long as you do it after the show.”

***

The band had gotten to the venue straight after lunch, excitedly discussing some new covers they were thinking about playing that night. Soundcheck consisted of a number of conversations all at once, trying to figure out how to change the setlist. Damiano found himself participating less, instead, staring down at Y/n sitting in the audience. She was busy writing in her notebook, the seats next to her taken up by her bag, folders, and laptop. He knew she needed a break. They all worked extremely hard all the time, so it wasn't difficult to spot the signs of a fellow overworked person. He made it his own personal mission to get her to go out with them that night. Spend some time outside of work, see the city, anything that made her put her phone down.

As day turned to night, the concert loomed on the horizon. As soon as they hit the stage, it was clear it was going to be a good night. Amsterdam was the best kind of crazy. Going from Zitti e Buoni into Billie Eilish's Bury a Friend, the crowd went wild. Damiano noticed with amusement that Y/n was absentmindedly dancing along from her spot on the side of the stage as well. His attention had only been diverted towards her for a second, he was sure, but it was enough to suddenly feel something hit his head. Soft, red fabric.

"Was wondering when the first of those would come around," Damiano chuckled into the microphone in between songs, swinging the bra around a few times, before draping it across his mic stand.

Yet as much as the energy of the audience rubbed off on the band, all of them felt like collapsing after the show, feeling like they'd given it more than their all. A perfect chance to unwind for the night, in a way only Amsterdam really knew how. It was legal, after all.

***

“I am absolutely not getting high with you lot.”

Everyone was gathered in Y/n’s hotel room more or less uninvited. It seemed like they were dying to drag her along on what was supposed to be one of the best nights out on that tour. After getting ready, they had simply stormed in as soon as she had opened her hotel door. Now they were perched on her bed, her desk, and her armchair, trying to convince her.

“I gave you all a map to see where you could go. I, for one, would like to stay in my room, just me and my bed, and sleep till my alarm in the morning. That sounds like a brilliant time in my book.”

“Boring!” Thomas shouted, hurling a pillow from the bed at her that she quickly caught and threw back with much less force.

“If you come out with us, we’ll be ready before your wake-up call for the rest of the week!” Victoria tried to bribe.

“If you come out with us, we’ll have breakfast ready for you every day!” Y/n shot a look at Thomas, knowing fully well this was not going to happen. The idea alone made her laugh.

“If you come out with us, you can keep me company while the other three go crazy?” Ethan finally offered. She knew she was close to giving in, no matter how wrong it seemed to blur the lines between working relationship and friendship. She barely even agreed to drinks when she was on the job, and technically, she considered herself to be on the job 24/7. Yet these four had grown close to her heart so much more than anticipated.

Out of nowhere Damiano appeared next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder. The way his fingertips brushed her neck as he did so left goosebumps. “Come on, darling, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

It turned out, that was all she had needed to hear.

***

The coffeeshop didn’t differ much from the usual pubs and bars; people stuffed in every corner, a low murmur of talk with the occasional loud laughter over the music playing in the background, tables full of glasses and bottles. Only the smoke lingering in the air, its distinct smell, and the relaxed atmosphere let on that it was a slightly different kind of place. Y/n made short work of weaseling through the crowd and securing a table at the far end of the place, just enough space to accommodate all of them, as the others went to order.

“Do you want one as well?” Damiano asked as soon as he had let himself fall onto the couch next to her, already preparing to roll a joint.

“I think I’m getting a second-hand high just sitting here. Maybe take a puff of one of yours, but I won't be able to finish one myself."

Damiano nodded, licking the inside of the blanks as he prepared his joint. Victoria came bouncing in like a tidal wave - her usual fashion - and crashing into the others already sitting down. As soon as Damiano was happy with his creation, she snatched it out of his hand, making short work of lighting it and taking a drag.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Make another one,” she grinned, obnoxiously blowing the smoke into his face. Rolling his eyes, Damiano quickly prepared another one for himself, everyone now happy and content with their smokes, until only Y/n was left holding at a glass of water.

She preferred to observe the scene from her little advantage point in the corner like she so often did. The mellow music in the background was loud enough to underline the atmosphere but quiet enough to easily talk to everyone around you without having to shout. She liked this much better than loud bars in the evening. Most people were minding their own business, in small groups or pairs, some on their own. Victoria was quick to start chatting to a pair of girls sitting at the table next to them. She wasn’t going to lie - while not her usual spot, she didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable.

A hand appeared in front of her face, seemingly out of nowhere, and it took her a second to realise it was Damiano, trying to pass her his joint. She hesitated - still not convinced whether she should be smoking at all, but one look into his eyes only proved to her that she was weak to his suggestions. Parting her lips ever so slightly, she let him push the blunt between them, his fingertips grazing her. She took a drag, careful not to breathe in too much too quickly, before releasing the joint. Damiano pulled it back towards himself immediately, putting it back between his own lips, and she felt hypnotised. The moment came to an abrupt end when a cough took hold of her.

“Easy, easy,” Ethan soothed from the other side, his hand on her upper back. “Breathe.”

Everyone around the table seemed to be looking at her now, but she quickly got her composure back, holding up her hands in a gesture that was meant to signal she was fine.

“Fuck,” Y/n choked, taking a drink from her glass to wet her throat. “This is why I don’t smoke.”

“Wrong,” Thomas threw in. “This is because you don’t smoke!”

Y/n shook her head, giggling at the guitarist and the know-it-all look in his eyes.

“Up to try again?” Damiano whispered in her ear as the attention had finally ceased to be on her. She found herself staring into his eyes once again, a fluttery feeling erupting in her stomach at having him watch her so intently, at being able to capture his attention so easily.

The look on his face was enough to get her to try again. And again. And again.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but for once, she genuinely didn’t care. The people around them had changed, old ones leaving, new ones arriving, but the music stayed the same. She wasn’t quite sure what the joke Thomas was telling them was about, but she found herself giggling along nonetheless. This was the best she had felt in forever.

Unaware of what she was doing, she leaned back, finding Damiano’s arms carefully wrapping around her, holding her softly. To her own surprise, she was sinking into him.

“Having fun?” He asked in a voice so low she barely heard it. A voice so soft it made her heart melt. She nodded, slightly twisting around in his embrace to look at him again. She couldn’t get enough of his face. She’d stay and study it for all of eternity if he let her.

"Have you ever seen brown zircon?” She suddenly asked out of nowhere. “It's a gemstone that looks like they made sparkly salted caramel bonbons from rock. They mine it in Tanzania, I think? Your eyes sparkle just like that." She grinned at the man beside her. "I can attest to that from this angle at least. It’s like the one scene in Aladdin! 'She's got these eyes, and this hair and…’ Ah oh god, what am I doing?" She couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she was being. She found her face resting on his shoulder, completely content. His eyes never wavered from her face, listening closely to what she had to say.

Then Y/n watched her hand brush Damiano’s hair to the front, attempting to style it in a slightly different way. “Did you mean to look like Eren Yeager or was that some sort of subconscious coincidence? Not that it doesn’t look good, of course.”

“You watch Attack on Titan?” Dami looked down at her with surprise.

“No I don’t, but my friends do. So you learn the names of the people they yell at through the TV screen very quickly,” she laughed, remembering the way her friends would huddle in the living room, shouting at whatever the characters were doing wrong in their opinion.

“The more I get to know you, the more I’m convinced you’re my kinda woman, you know?” he mumbled, a smile grazing his lips. The more she looked at him, the more she felt her brain shutting off and her heart taking over. Or was it the high? She wasn’t interested in trying to differentiate.

Once again, he pushed the joint between her lips, holding the eye contact and it felt so much more intimate than it should have. It felt like her nerves were on fire. When he pulled his hand back again, she wanted to grab onto it, keep him in place, keep the moment.

I could stay in this forever, Y/n thought to herself.

"Also, I'm not religious by any means, but whatever God was responsible for creating you sure took their sweet time doing it…" The words spilled from her mouth before she realized she was talking, eyes flicking back and forth between his. "You know?"

She caught herself looking at his lips. A small blush grew on her face as she looked away. Staring out into the room, out at the people sitting next to them at other tables. Something distracting to take the rising heat off.

***

Damiano could feel his defenses wearing away. All ideas of staying away completely vanished into the smoke that lulled them in as he was holding her in his arms, her back leaning against his chest. He could feel her breathing, giggling at nothing at all, or maybe something Victoria had said but he hadn’t heard.

“If anyone’s been made by the angels, it’s you, amore,” he mumbled more to himself than anything, but she had heard him. Another chuckle running through her body. The atmosphere was fogging up his brain. He watched in amusement as he let a finger run up her arms, from her wrist to her upper arm where the fabric of her shirt began, and goosebumps appeared as if standing tall in a row. He tried it again on the other arm, getting the same result.

“What are you doing?”

She was turning around in his arms, just enough to look at him without removing herself from his embrace. He wondered if it was the dim light or if she was always this radiant. His hands travelled to the elastic that was holding her hair together and carefully removed it, eyes on her. Her hair fell around her face, framing it beautifully in its typically wild manner.

“I…” Her eyes seemed to twinkle as the light of the bar reflected back at him through them. “I don’t know.”

He looked away, suddenly insecure. What was he doing? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep his hands off her, now less than ever. He wanted her. Wanted her all to himself. Wanted to keep holding her like this forever. There was no denying that.

“You’re sweet.”

Her voice took a second to get through to him, but as it did, he turned his head as if in slow motion. All he had wanted to do was look at her again, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her lips were on his.

***

All Y/n had done was lean forward to press a kiss against his cheek. Now their lips were meeting and she didn’t know how she had gotten there. She wanted to pull back - no, actually she didn’t. But she thought she should. Though the spirit was willin - to pull away, that was -, the flesh was weak. Delving deeper into his arms, she found herself kissing him like she meant it. Her hands found his chest, feeling the rising heat from his skin. Being closer to him than ever before was driving her crazy. His soft, warm lips against hers. Just the tiniest movements, as if he was afraid of breaking her. She let herself enjoy it. For a moment. That was all her brain allowed before switching back to the rational part. She pulled back in surprise.

She moved out of his embrace, stiffening at the contact. All of the twinkling lights of romance that had just appeared around them now popped as the kiss ended.

I just kissed my boss. I just fucking went and kissed Damiano! I am so, so fucked.

Yet, she couldn't deny that she wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again until they ran out of air to breathe. She looked back at him and the expression on his face said it all. His lids lowered, a small smile appearing on his face. Eyes twinkling in the soft light. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end either. Either that or the weed was affecting him more than she had thought.

But as cold air started to seep in between them he blinked a couple of times, only now noticing that she had pulled away.

"Sorry - about that. I was trying to- I wasn't trying to kiss you. Well, I was - but not on the mouth. That would have been very forward of me. I would never. That's not me. I don't know how that happened - sorry." Y/n rambled on, unable to stop talking.

Damiano smirked, pecking her cheek. "Y/n, it's fine, you're fine. I turned my head and we kissed. It happens." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. As if this was some sort of common occurrence. As if she was panicking for nothing. Was she?

***

Damiano desperately tried to hide the turmoil inside of him. It happens?! Damiano, what the hell are you thinking! Not the right thing to say in this situation! Now it just looks like you’d kiss anyone, great. He looked down at his hands, fumbling with his rings. Trying to get his breathing back under control. He needed to be cool.

"I mean - not that I didn't enjoy it. You kiss good!"

You kiss good? What the? That wasn’t even English. He was well and truly losing his mind.

***

Y/n took a deep breath, sitting back in her seat, making sure not to be as close to Damiano as she had been before. Victoria and Thomas had migrated to get more drinks and Ethan was deeply entrenched in some conversation with a man next to him. Luckily the rest of the band hadn't seen what just happened. Grabbing her glass once more, the cold wet condensation gave a stark contrast to her warm skin.

The kiss still left a tingly feeling on her lips. Quickly looking at Damiano, she met his eyes. He had not looked away yet, it seemed. She watched as he bit his lip in contemplation. Whatever was playing on his mind, Y/n didn't know. His words left her believing he wasn’t quite as put together as he tried to pretend. He certainly wasn’t making much sense. Although, she wouldn’t dismiss his compliment of her kissing abilities. She wondered if he would think similarly if they did it again, or did more than that…

Her wandering thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud crash. The culprit was quickly spotted. The middle of the coffeeshop, which had been empty of people until then, now had Thomas lying on his front, surrounded by liquid and broken glass.

Y/n didn’t hesitate, jumping up to offer her aid. The worry only lasted for a second though, until Thomas turned on his back, giggling maniacally. She barely managed to kick some shards out of the way before he could roll onto them.

She let out a deep sigh at the state of the guitarist, before quickly apologizing to the people at the bar.

“Everyone help me grab Thomas, I think this is our sign to call it a night.”

***

Y/n thought she’d have an easy time going to sleep. The effects of the joint were lingering, plus, the day had just been plain exhausting. Yet, as her head hit the pillow, she felt restless. Her mind kept circling around Damiano. The way he had looked at her. The way he had looked in general. She had seen him basically naked at this point, but she still thought about how it would be different up close and personal. She wished she had been able to read his eyes more. Had he been thinking about the same things she had? Had he wanted to kiss her again and again, get lost in that bubbling excitement of finally being close, finally let his hands wander to new places? She wanted to pull his hair. See what kind of sound would leave his mouth when doing so.

She wanted his hands and his lips, all of him really, badly. She wanted to know what he felt like when he really kissed her. What his fingers would be able to do to her. Biting and moaning. She desperately needed some release, wishing it would come from him, but knowing there was no chance, at least not tonight. Her hand wandered between her legs as she let her mind run wild. Imagining it was him instead, letting his fingers run along the inside of her thighs, exploring every inch of her. How he would treat her just right, hit all the right spots, do so much better than her own fingers ever could. The words he’d whisper in her ear, seducing her with his mother tongue, breath fanning her skin. How he would kiss her senseless. Feeling the rhythm of their bodies take over. Watch his tattoos start to glisten with a sheen of sweat from what they would be doing.

She found her release almost embarrassingly quickly, burying her face in her pillow. Her body felt more at ease, although her heart was still craving something more. She had almost calmed down, getting her breathing back under control. In a moment of clarity, she checked her phone to see when she had to wake up the next day, when the sound of a moan caught her attention. One that definitely wasn’t her own, but seemed to come from the room next door.

Damiano’s room.