#from dancing and kissing in front of a homophobic crowd on a night where so much would be written abt aside from the gay couple

[hawkfuller]

modern day loustat will get to live their love in the open now wtf they'll have seen two complete opposite eras of acceptance for queer couples together

[honeymooneyy]

perfect

Marlene always assumed she’d end up dating a quidditch player. 

She had loved the sport for as long as she remembered, and the thought of being able to share a love for something like that seemed perfect. Marlene thought a lot about perfect; she had quite a few ideas of what her perfect life could be. And amongst those ideas was the perfect quidditch playing boyfriend. 

When she joined the team, she knew it would be ridiculously easy to fulfill this perfect dream. Being the only girl on the team, it was no surprise most of the other boys were enamored by her. She could have just about anyone she would like, but none of them seemed perfect. 

So Marlene forgot about her perfect relationship where she would be dating a quidditch player. 

That was until her friend Mary suggested the other houses’ quidditch players, and Marlene felt sheepish for being so close minded. So she decided to keep an eye out for attractive players on the other teams, though she was a bit busy beating them when coming in contact with them. The only other time was during practice when the other teams left the field as Gryffindor got ready for their slot to practice on the field. 

James Potter was crazy, despite how good of a captain he was. He didn’t seem to care it was downpouring as he forced the others outside for practice. Marlene agreed that it could be raining for a game and that they should be prepared, but she would much rather be inside where it was dry and warm. It didn’t help that they had signed up for a slot in the morning, when Marlene should be sleeping. 

It may have been nine in the morning but Marlene usually slept in, and hadn’t been considerate enough to go to sleep early the night before. She felt much like a zombie as she followed a talkative Sirius out of the school and toward the field. She was practically walking with her eyes closed so it was no surprise she ran into someone. 

Her eyes shot open as hands steadied her, grabbing her shoulders gently. In front of her stood a tall girl who looked soaked to the bone. Her dark hair, pulled into thick braids, hung around her wet face. Her clothes were plastered against her lean figure, and Marlene noticed she was a Ravenclaw. 

“Shit, sorry,” the girl apologized, her hands leaving Marlene’s skin, taking their warmth with it. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.” 

“My bad, too, I wasn’t paying attention. Too early to think,” Marlene laughed nervously and the girl joined in, her eyes crinkling. Marlene rather liked her laugh. 

“Don’t worry about it, Marlene.” The girl gave her a bright grin before jogging after her team who had continued walking back up to the school. 

Marlene just stared after her, dumbfounded. She knew her name, yet Marlene had no idea who this girl was. She continued to mull it over during practice and when it was over, she decided to make a couple inquiries. 

Turns out her name was Dorcas Meadowes and she was also in sixth year. 

Marlene was intrigued. Why did she know Marlene’s name already? Had they ever had a class together? Or did she know Marlene for other reasons? Had she always been on Ravenclaw’s quidditch team, and had Marlene just never noticed? 

It wasn’t long before they ran into each other, quite literally. 

It had been a match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, and the win was close. The seekers had been going head to head, attempting to break the tie and Gryffindor won it by a split second. The crowd was cheering and Marlene was too focused on Lily and Mary’s waves that when she dismounted her broom with a stumble, she ran into Dorcas, yet again. 

This time, she was caught around the waist, very nearly face planted. As she righted herself, she met Dorcas’ dark eyes and returned her smile. 

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” Marlene laughed, pushing her hair out of her face. 

“I think you’ve got to stop running into me,” Dorcas replied cheekily, pulling her hands from Marlene’s waist. “I was completely innocent this time.” 

“Oh hush. Thank you, though, for catching me.” Marlene gripped her broom tightly when Dorcas grinned, her stomach twisting pleasantly. 

“I couldn’t let a pretty girl like you end up in a mud puddle.” 

With that Dorcas gave her a small nod and turned on her heel to join her team. Marlene’s heart was pounding as she blinked, just staring at Dorcas’ retreating figure. It wasn’t the first time someone had called her pretty, but the way Dorcas said it so casually made her cheeks heat up in a way she’s never experienced. 

Marlene spent the rest of the night questioning herself. She had never really paid her sexuality much thought, but Dorcas certainly made her question it. She wasn’t stupid, it was clear she felt something for Dorcas, but where did that leave her? In the end she decided it didn’t really matter, she just knew that she liked Dorcas. 

The next time they met no one ran into anyone. It was Halloween and a party had been thrown in the Gryffindor common room and James had somehow convinced some of the other house’s to join them. Marlene had been refilling her drink when Dorcas appeared next to her, a cup in her hand. 

“Hey, Marlene,” Dorcas exclaimed over the loud music, and gave Marlene a wide grin. And then her eyes trailed down her figure, her gaze so intense Marlene’s knees felt weak. When their eyes met again, Dorcas’ smile seemed different. “I love the dress!” 

Marlene did her best to return the smile, hoping Dorcas couldn’t see the bright blush crawling her up pale cheeks. “Thank you, I love your outfit, too!” 

In contrast to Marlene’s dress that left little to the imagination, Dorcas had bell bottom jeans and button down that was tied together in a makeshift crop top. The white of the shirt was stark against her dark skin and Marlene had to force herself from staring, instead focusing on her face. Instead of braids like earlier, her hair was left natural in an afro that Marlene felt suited Dorcas best. 

“James wasn’t lying when he said you guys threw good parties,” Dorcas spoke up once she had refilled her drink. Instead of shouting over the music, she had resorted to leaning in to speak in Marlene’s ear and it was doing things to her poor heart. 

“Much more fun when you’re dancing!” Marlene plucked the glass from Dorcas’ hand and replaced it with her hand and pulled her into the crowd of writhing bodies. 

Dorcas seemed enthusiastic and looped her arms around Marlene’s waist as she slung hers around Dorcas’ neck. The music was fast and the girls jumped around along with it, laughter disappearing into the loud atmosphere. They alternated between grabbing drinks and running onto the dance floor when a certain song came on and by the end of the night Marlene was exhausted. 

As people began to leave the music had slowed down and couples were just swaying on the once packed dance floor. Marlene had assumed Dorcas would’ve left by now but she was still here, rocking back and forth with Marlene on the dance floor. She had been making jokes about James’ obvious crush on Lily and Marlene wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol but it seemed to be the funniest thing she had ever heard. 

Her head had fallen onto Dorcas’ shoulder as she shook with laughter, and Dorcas’ own shoulders mirrored her own. When she raised her head to meet Dorcas’ eyes, her chest warmed at the happiness on her face. Dorcas had opened her mouth to say something when Sirius barreled into the two of them. 

“Sorry to interrupt! Marlene! Big emergency!” Sirius exclaimed, pulling Marlene from Dorcas. “You’re homophobic if you don’t help.” 

Dorcas laughed at his words and didn’t seem put off in the slightest. “I should get going, anyway. I had tons of fun, Marlene! Seeya around!” 

With a final smile she left and Marlene turned her attention back to Sirius. He was rambling about something stupid he had said to Remus and she repressed the urge to snort. Those two were so hopeless. 

It felt like forever before Marlene saw Dorcas again, but the wait was worth it. She had taken a trip up to the astronomy tower, having nothing to do on the friday night, and was surprised to see Dorcas there. 

She had a telescope set up and must have been using it at some point, but now was sitting with her back to the wall, head tipped back to stare at the stars. When she heard the door slip shut, her eyes flickered over before lighting up. 

“Marlene! What brings you here?” 

“Nothing to do,” Marlene admits, and takes a seat next to her on the floor. “Watching the stars?” 

Dorcas hums in reply, turning her gaze back up to the night sky. Marlene doesn’t do the same, instead taking a moment to appreciate her side profile. Her jaw was defined, similar to her cheekbones, and her nose had the perfect slope with the perfect bump in it. Her lashes were pleasantly long, pressing against her cheeks when she blinked. And then those eyes were on her, head tilting in a silent question. 

Marlene just flushed, looking away and at the stars Dorcas was once staring at. Now it was Dorcas who was watching her but she ignored it, too nervous to say anything about what just happened. 

“Marlene?” Dorcas’ voice was soft, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. 

“Yeah?” Marlene turned to face her and was surprised to see that Dorcas was already doing the same. Their noses just barely brushed and she sucked in a breath at how close they were. 

Dorcas’ eyes flickered down to her lips before catching her eye again. “Marls, can I?” 

The nickname rolled off her tongue perfectly and Marlene decided it sounded best when it was Dorcas who was saying it. But these thoughts were pushed away as she searched Dorcas’ face and then gave a small nod. 

There was a small moment of hesitation but then Dorcas was leaning forward to press her lips against the blonde’s. It was a short kiss, perfectly chaste and cautionary. But Marlene had waited long enough and reached out to pull Dorcas closer by her shoulder. She didn’t drop her hand, instead moving it to cup Dorcas’ face, the tips of her fingers sliding into her thick hair. 

Dorcas overwhelmed Marlene’s senses; her fruity perfume surrounding Marlene in a blanket of sweetness, rivaling the taste of her mouth, slotted against Marlene’s perfectly, and her hands were sliding up her arm’s and into her hair. She was tipping her head back to deepen the kiss. Marlene had no complaints, her hands just gripping Dorcas’ shirt tighter to attempt to anchor herself. 

It was Dorcas who pulled away, Marlene’s lips chasing after hers, wishing the moment could never end. Both the girls looked at each other with giddy smiles, hands still on one another, still sitting inches apart. Marlene’s chest felt like it was going to burst and her face was seconds from cracking with how big her smile was. 

Marlene wasn’t wrong when she assumed she’d end up dating a quidditch player. Somehow, she had reinvented her idea of perfect, and now, she couldn’t imagine anything other than the life she had carved out for herself. 

[thatringboy]

Pride Month at NRC

I’m out of ideas for funny posts, so let’s go back to headcannons. Specifically, lgbt headcannons.

Heartslabyul

They decorate the gardens with rainbow roses

But other than that they don’t really do anything as a whole dorm

Riddle has everyone remain in their uniforms for the parade

But the residents are allowed to decorate themselves however they want

Cater helped people with face paint while his face was colored the pansexual flag

Trey and Deuce handed out flags for people

It’s a huge party to decorate everyone

Even Riddle paints a little enby flag on his face

Ace over here wearing a straight ally flag like a cape but was seen kissing Deuce in a corner raised some eyebrows ngl

Savanaclaw

No face paint for Leona, but damn it if he won’t go shirtless with a Bi flag painted on his chest

Ruggie also over here with Bi face paint and waving a huge ass trans flag

The biggest he could find actually

Jack tried to blend into the crowd, but got dragged into the parade somehow

The entire dorm is either shirtless and covered in paint or in pride shirts

It’s very colorful

Pomfiore is jealous

Octavinelle

The Mostro Lounge is serving a specialty drink that’s rainbow colored

The twins sharing an Intersex flag is adorable

Floyd and Jade with their respective sexuality flags (Gay and Pan) tied to their wrists while Azul waved a tiny Aromantic flag is a picture for the memory books

Someone put rainbow duct tape on Azul’s cane and he’s not that mad about it?

No paint for the fish boys, but the Lounge has flags everywhere

Everyone gathers there after the parade

Scarabia

Dancing dancing dancing dancing

Dancing people everywhere

Kalim out here living his best life while Jamil is trying to stay away from cameras

Kalim and all of his richness bought enough pride decorations for the entire school

He got glitter everywhere and Jamil had to clean up poor boy

Jamil let his guard down for a second and ended up with rainbow lipstick smears on his cheeks

But he wasn’t mad about it

Pomfiore

Oh dear god someone take away Vil’s make up license

He’s gone overboard as the president of NRC’s GSA

Planned everything for the parade

Rook dressed in drag and was absolutely stunning

Vil did everyone’s makeup based on their sexuality

Epel wanted to paint his chest like the Savanaclaw boys, but settled for a Bi flag on his cheek

Epel ran off once the parade started and dragged Jack into the mess

Vil gave up looking for him after twenty minutes

Ignihyde

Idia didn’t go to the parade, but he did change his pfps online to rainbow flags

Ortho led the parade

Idia made a small appearance at the Mostro Lounge after everything calmed down

Everyone was like “Idia where’s your rainbow stuff?”

He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a small rainbow tattoo on his wrist

Is it real? Who knows

Ortho changed the color of his fire hair to a rainbow flame

The other dormheads thought the tiny rainbow was too cute and they were rendered speechless for a second until Floyd started to laugh

Meanwhile the entire Ignihyde dorm isn’t recognizable bc of how much pride stuff was put up

There’s a price to pay for being the dorm based off of a gay god

Diasomnia

Lilia sewed the asexual flag into his coat and showed everyone

Silver got a bi flag as a gift from Malleus

Meanwhile someone put bi colored tape on Sebek’s sword and he is pissed

Poor guy

Malleus found a Polysexual flag in his room and he doesn’t know who gave it to him

it was MC

The dorm didn’t really participate in the parade, but they could all be seen around the school

Somehow Sebek got to the front of the parade and ended up leading it with Ortho?

Silver got a t-shirt that said “Two dads, twice the puns”

ohmygoshmalleusandlilialovedthatshirt

Ramshackle

The gargoyles outside got painted rainbow by someone

Prefect suspects a certain Fae

Grim got a rainbow bow and loves it

The ghosts got dressed up a bit too!

There’s no residents, which means that Grim threw a party after the Mostro Lounge closed for the night

The Light Music Club sung Lady Gaga

Oh lord the noise was on for hours

But it was a fun party

NRC Staff

Ashton Vargas and Divus Crewel aren’t together but damn it if they didn’t strut in the parade together

Mozus Trein just sat in his office all day with his cat

He’s not homophobic, he just doesn’t like large crowds and screaming high schoolers

Crowley and Sam over did it and were super extra, that’s all I’ll say.

Conclusion?

Ya’ll NRC is gay as fuck

[angstyaches]

first of all, hi! found you today and i’m obsessed! for a christmas or general drabble, what about a character just absolutely overwhelmed by the holiday snafu? i’m imagining charlie, but whoever you think it most fits - on top of an already anxious tummy & mind, the lights are too bright, the chatter too loud, it’s too crowded, it’s too hot and too much. cue overstimulation, a sick belly, and lots of sweet, grounding comfort (of ofc getting whisked out of there). tysm for your stories! 💖

I would have LOVED to write this for Charlie, but Shayne is so much more likely to react like this. And I pushed it to New Year’s, since I ran out of time for the Christmas drabbles. Thank you so much for the adorable prompt 🖤

CW: anxiety, alcohol mention, self-deprecating thoughts, mention of homophobia, overwhelmed character, emeto

_

“Shayne?”

My relatives are noisy, but they’re sweet, for the most part, Charlie had said.

“Hey, Shayne?”

I haven’t even come out to them, so they’re probably not gonna ask if you’re my – well, they’re not gonna ask anything like that, Charlie had said, before getting embarrassed and looking away.

A gentle hand touched Shayne’s arm, making him jump on the spot. Shayne blinked at it, and then at Charlie. His blue eyes were shiny with concern.

The look made Shayne’s stomach feel funny; it was like a hundred weights had just been released from under his ribs, and they were all dropping through his belly at the same time. The more he thought about it, the more he realised this feeling had been lingering for a while, waiting for the right moment to make him feel like the ground was swaying beneath him.

Charlie nodded towards Trevor, who was standing just in front of them. “What do you want to drink?”

Gathering the will with some effort, Shayne looked up at Trevor, who was waiting patiently with a hand over his wallet. Shit. How long had he been spaced out for?

“Sorry, um – can I just get some water, please?”

“’Course,” Trevor nodded. “And a Fanta and rum, Charlie?”

“Yep! Thanks, Dad. We’ll grab a table.”

Shayne pressed a hand to his stomach as he followed Charlie across the room, despairing quietly at the fact that the sinking feeling wasn’t going away. His legs felt a little shaky too, and he couldn’t wait to sit down and try to calm himself.

They passed so many tables – all complete with piles of paper coasters and little “no smoking” plaques – that Shayne couldn’t figure out what Charlie’s criteria could possibly include. The place was empty for now, but soon it would fill up with the members of Charlie’s family – from Trevor’s side, Ingrid’s side, and Trevor’s ex-wife’s side. Shayne couldn’t picture how many people would be there, but there was seating for at least sixty.

Finally, Charlie located a suitable table, and they both sat close to the wall, on the cushioned bench.

Charlie shrugged off his coat, which was light denim on the outside and white fake fur on the inside. There was an artificial heat in the hired function room, but Shayne didn’t want to relinquish the layer of protection that was his own jacket; it was just synthetic leather, but he knew he’d feel even more anxious if he took it off.

What he wanted was to put his head down on the table and wait for the awful feeling in his stomach to pass, but the thought of drawing attention to himself, or making Charlie worry about him, kept him from doing so.

He also resisted the urge to try and work the tension out of his body by cracking his jaw, and settled for slinking a little lower in his seat and putting his hands in his pockets. Charlie’s silence was freaking him out a bit; Shayne wondered if he was dwelling on their earlier conversation as much as he was. Maybe it was just him, but it felt like everything they’d never discussed was hanging around them like a heavy cloud.

His stomach did a little flip as he worked himself up to ask; “You okay?”

Charlie’s gaze diverted across the room, and a sick-looking grimace crossed his face. “I was better about ten seconds ago. My great-aunt Ursula just got rolled in.”

Shayne hesitantly turned his head. At the entrance to the function room, an old lady in a wheelchair was, indeed, being pushed through the pub, surrounded by a group of people ranging from early twenties to mid-fifties.

“Wildly homophobic,” Charlie sighed. There was a hint of resigned humour in his voice, but the statement still made Shayne’s stomach turn over again.

Several groups seemed to have arrived at the same time and were still greeting each other; some were kissing one another on the cheek and hugging, and every one of them was emitting a noise of some kind. A few had small children pulling at their legs, while the older children were glued to phones.

“You wanna meet everyone in one go? Get it over and done with?” Charlie asked. “Baptism of fire?”

Shayne’s stomach dropped so hard that he felt a slight retch pull at the back of his throat. He couldn’t, in that moment, think of anything he wanted to do less, but he couldn’t exactly voice that to Charlie. In the same way, he couldn’t have turned down the invitation to the party, not while he was the Waters’ guest. It seemed he couldn’t do anything without coming across as cold and rude and grumpy and...;

“Or you can stay and guard our table,” Charlie half-laughed.

“Would that be okay?” Shayne knew it was the wrong answer, and he gave it anyway.

“Sure, don’t worry about it.” Charlie slid off the bench and circled around to the front of the table. “I’ll be back in a few. Dad should be over with the drinks soon, too.”

Shayne sank a little lower on the bench as he watched Charlie go. He wanted Charlie to glance back at him on the way, but he didn’t, and anyway, he was being such an asshole he didn’t deserve it. Didn’t even deserve a glance. Probably didn’t deserve the water he’d asked for, or the warm food Ingrid had served up before they’d all left for the party.

Looking like the moodiest, most out-of-place person in a room that suddenly held about forty, Shayne wished he could be in any mindset but the one he was currently in.

Unfortunately, mindsets didn’t quite work like that, and this one kept him on edge for the duration of the party. Although for Shayne, it was less of a party and more like a prolonged, torturous countdown to the new year. He hung out with Charlie when he could, but as the night wore on, he saw less and less of him. Between brief introductions to people whose names went right over his head, and short encounters with energetic little kids who had clearly been given too many fizzy drinks, Shayne was positive that he’d met more people in those few hours than he had in the past entire year of his life.

He was grateful that Charlie didn’t seem to expect him to hang around anyone for too long, but he was also disappointed in himself for taking every escape that was offered to him. Charlie was so bright and happy and social, and his family all seemed to adore him so much; meanwhile, Shayne was his weird friend wearing all black and slinking off to the corner at every opportunity.

He also let Charlie drag him out to dance a couple of times, but it was nothing like the little dancing sessions Felix sometimes held at the townhouse; Shayne could barely bring himself to dance in private, let alone here, in front of so many strangers. In front of Charlie.

Feeling out of place was bad enough, but even worse than that was that his belly had stopped dropping, and had started to hurt quite a lot. The very last thing he wanted was to end up locked in the bathroom throwing up, but between meeting so many people and navigating the now darkened, disco-light-laden function room, it was getting hard to control the nausea. A DJ had set up in the room a few hours ahead of the midnight countdown, and the music was so, so loud. Shayne couldn’t understand why it needed to be so fucking loud –

“Got you a Sprite!”

He looked up from the table to see a blue light cast over Ingrid’s face as she sat in a chair opposite him.

“I’ll get you something stronger, if you want it!” she yelled over the music, leaning over the table a little. “I’m the designated driver, but I’m happy to drink vicariously through you.”

Shayne tried for an amused hum and shook his head as he took the glass of sparkling clear liquid from her. “I’m good, thank you.”

“It’s shit, isn’t it? The party.” Ingrid rolled her eyes at herself as soon as the words were out. “I can’t wait to get out of here, once the countdown is done. If we can both hang in there until then, we’ll grab Charlie and make our escape. How’s that sound?”

Shayne nodded, sipping gratefully on the drink she’d brought him. Leaving right after midnight sounded wonderful. The cold bubbles settling in his stomach felt good, too, and so did knowing that he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wait to leave.

As Ingrid flashed him a smile over her own glass, he wondered if this was the point where Charlie would tell his mother he was feeling sick, and sad, and overwhelmed. He wanted to tell her. He wanted her to take him home, and let him stay there forever instead of sending him back to the Aldridges.

He was broken out of his thoughts when the woman at the next table, who was holding a baby, reached over and tapped Ingrid on the shoulder. Ingrid turned in her chair and exclaimed the woman’s name – which Shayne immediately forgot – and the two of them started chatting close to each other’s ears.

Shayne finished his drink and sat back in his seat. With nothing else to focus on, the music seemed to blare even harder from the speakers, drumming through his head like something was physically beating against either side of his skull. The heaving sounds seemed to rattle his insides too, and the lyrics he couldn’t quite make out hurtled dizzyingly through his head.

Suddenly, the DJ was speaking too, his voice booming through the microphone; as impossible as it seemed, his words were louder than the music itself.

“Alright, folks, we’ve got ninety seconds until midnight.”

Shayne looked up, instantly needing to close his eyes for a few seconds as coloured lights swung over the table – purple, then red, and then a sickly-bright yellow – before scattering across the small dancefloor area.

The handful of Charlie’s relatives who were dancing ranged from pre-teen cousins attempting to perform a routine in-sync, and aunts and uncles swaying over glasses of alcohol. Everyone else was standing by the bar or lingering near tables, leaning in and tucking hair behind their ears as they tried to have conversations over the music. They all started to gather a little more tightly now that the countdown was imminent, and the excitement in the room was almost electric.

Shayne didn’t feel excited. He felt like he wanted to cry.

Ingrid raised her eyebrows as he got to his feet and got out from behind the table. He paused and leaned back over to tell her;

“I’m going to find Charlie.”

“Alright, hon!” Ingrid winked and gave a little wave. “See you in the new year, eh?”

_

He found Charlie in the lobby, where some of the younger party guests were pulling at his legs and trying to tackle him to the ground. He had a girl of about six years old in his arms, balanced against his hip. Shayne wasn’t sure how Charlie’s relatives had so many children, or how Charlie seemed to have become a babysitter for the duration of the party.

“Hey,” Charlie grinned as he lowered the little girl to the ground, letting her tear away after her brother. Or cousin. Shayne didn’t have a good grasp on how all of these people were related. “Go find your mammy for the countdown, okay?”

The kids pushed at each other and laughed as they ran back towards the function room, shoes slapping hollowly on the carpeted floor. They didn’t even glance at Shayne as they rounded him, as though he was just a statue.

“Sorry, I was going to come and find you, but I completely lost track of the time,” Charlie laughed. He gave a deep sigh and his smile faltered. “You been doing okay?”

The hollow, sick feeling in his stomach made Shayne hesitate. Even here, where the air was a little cooler and everything was a little quieter, nothing was calming down in his head or in his belly.

Charlie’s face was falling, and he was coming closer. Shayne had to decide if he was going to lean in or pull back, and all of the possibilities of how each of these options would play out went hurtling through his head.

“I…”

Voices began chanting from the function room.

Ten, nine –

A sharp pull of some dark, twisting emotion in his tummy made him wince, and in a last-bid attempt to escape everything, to just disappear, to cease existing, he lifted his hands to his face and just covered his eyes.

Eight –

He didn’t disappear.

Instead, he felt Charlie embrace him gently, without wrapping his arms all the way around. He held him through seven, six, five –

“Charlie?” Shayne whispered, nausea and tearfulness causing his voice to come out sounding deep and slightly hoarse.

Four –

“I - I can’t.”

Three –

Charlie nodded. “Let’s go outside.”

Shayne was pretty sure he had never gripped Charlie’s hand as hard as he did now. He was definitely sure that he’d never wished harder that he could be someone else. Someone who wouldn’t get completely overwhelmed by a roomful of people who were literally just yelling out numbers.

Two –

Someone who wouldn’t have burst into tears by the time they got to the front entrance of the hotel, where glass doors opened out into a streetlight-hazed carpark. Where the chaos from inside seemed to fade away into nothingness, as though the party – as though New Year’s Eve itself – had suddenly been cancelled.

Charlie let out a small noise of confusion as Shayne’s hand slipped free of his. He let out a slightly louder noise as Shayne turned towards one of the prickly, waxy-leaved bushes and doubled over, coughing up water and Sprite and whatever he’d eaten of Ingrid’s casserole before they’d left home.

He cried harder the more he retched, and he began to choke on the sobs as the heaving stopped and the crying continued.

He was shivering and hugging himself by the time Charlie took him by the arm and guided him to the edge of the curb by the taxi pick-up point. Even after being sick, he still had that dreadful feeling, like he was falling from a hundred stories high. He buried his head under his arms as they sat down, pulling his knees up to his chin.

“Shayne.” Charlie moved a little closer, so that their shoulders brushed slightly against one another. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

The sound of Charlie’s voice should have been soothing, but it only seemed to add guilt on top of everything bad he was already feeling.

“I promise, everything is fine,” Charlie whispered. His fingertips began to work their way through Shayne’s hair, searching for the warmth of the nape of his neck.

The touch was light, but made it a little easier to focus. Shayne managed to close his eyes without frowning.

“Everything’s fine,” Charlie said again, tracing tiny circles just above the collar of Shayne’s jacket. “Did - did you just start feeling sick all of a sudden?”

“Mmm, no.” Shayne shivered as Charlie stroked his neck, hating himself for enjoying something he didn’t deserve. “My stomach’s been feeling weird since we got here. Nervous.”

Charlie gave a light sigh. “It’s okay. A lot of people don’t do well with crowds and noise.”

“It’s not just that, though. I’m not –” The swirling emptiness was creeping up into Shayne’s chest now, and his arms and legs felt impossibly heavy. “I’m not… I’m not enough for you, Charlie.”

“For me?” Charlie chuckled softly, resting his forehead against Shayne’s shoulder. “Lovely, I – I think about this all the time. I always think that I’m never going to be strong enough, or brave enough, to be worthy of you.”

Shayne gulped back a sob and picked up his head, even though Charlie’s face was still hidden against his shoulder.

“That’s –” Shayne sniffed and blinked tears from his eyelashes. The sobs in his throat melted into something that felt like low, wobbly laughter. “That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

Charlie was grinning when he lifted his face, tiny creases outlining the corners of his eyes. A light blush coloured his cheeks. “See what I mean?”

Shayne shrugged as he brushed tears away with his sleeves. His brain was firing all the wrong things in all the wrong directions. The epiphany wasn’t happening, and he felt that somehow, he was letting Charlie down yet again.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I even made us miss the fucking countdown.”

“That’s okay. It’s not important.” Charlie shrugged, fingertips tracing down Shayne’s forearm before gliding into the palm of his hand. “We can have our own countdown, if you want.”

Shayne glanced away, at nothing in particular. “What, now?”

Charlie nodded. “From three, okay? Three.”

He looked at Charlie again, noticing how intensely he was watching him. He tightened his fingers around Charlie’s, brushing his thumb back and forth across a knuckle. “Two?”

Charlie’s eyes darted downwards before his lips parted. “One.”

“Happy New Year, Charlie.” Shayne was just thinking how he wished he hadn’t just thrown up; otherwise he might have maybe considered thinking about –

Charlie’s lips closed over Shayne’s, the movement careful and slow. Each of their breaths pulled sharply, and then Shayne jerked back, covering his mouth with the back of his hand that wasn’t tangled up with Charlie’s. He looked at Charlie’s shy smile and realised the new feeling rising up in him wasn’t quite nausea or anxiety, but something a lot softer. Fluttery. Happy.

“Happy New Year, lovely,” Charlie whispered.

[neon-junkie]

Love Will Tear Us Apart

Summary: Ted comes out of the restrooms to see his best friend making out with a random guy. Why does Ted feel so upset over this? His best friend just managed to pull, he should be happy for him. But he's not.

Pairing: Ted “Theodore” Logan/Bill S. Preston Esq.

Word Count: 3580

Rating: SFW

Tags: Drinking, Alcohol, Nightclubs, Angst, Hurt, Crying, Friends to lovers, Slushies, Circle K, Drunken confessions, First kiss. 

Notes: Love how this was gonna be just a short drabble and became a 3.5k fic!! Figured I’d upload to tumblr :^) Read on AO3

A good night out was something that Bill and Ted always did, whether it was going to a concert, going to the fair, going bowling, etc. However, the pair had recently turned 21 and began diving into the vast and sticky ocean of alcohol. They had drunk before, but something about drinking legally in public totally hits different.

On tonight's agenda was a few beers and drinking games in their apartment, before going into town to try this new club Bill had heard a lot about. They had recently started trying to dress a bit 'nicer' when heading out, which just meant changing from t-shirts to button-up shirts. They continued to wear jeans or shorts and sneakers but would wear some kind of funky patterned shirt, whether it be something simple like a neutral colour or stripes, to bolder things like Hawaiian shirts. They were most definitely dressed to impress, and even if others didn't enjoy their style, they did, so they didn't really care.

Bill and Ted were currently stood in the entrance queue, a good few beers and shots deep. They were at a comfortable level, a bit wavey, but not too waved else they'd be turned away at the door. Bill had explained to Ted that he'd heard a few classmates go on about this club and how it's good to 'pick up a partner' there. The two of them were lacking in the babes department, so figured 'why not?' and even if they didn't pull, at least they had another good night out. The two got in with ease, showing their ID's and paying the cheap entrance fee.

The club was very cramped, packed with a wide variety of young men dressed in outfits that they were clearly comfortable and confident in. The air was musky, slightly damp and hot. The duo had already begun sweating out, and in sync, they undid a button on their shirts and rolled up their sleeves.

"Drinks?" Bill asked. Ted nodded, looking a bit parched as his tongue licked over his lips.

Bill led the way as the two wove their way between people, using their manners to slowly reach the bar.

"Bill?" Ted asked.

"Yeah, dude?" Bill replied, looking over his shoulder every now and again.

"These dudes are.." Ted said, his thoughts and eyes trailing around the room.

"...are?" Bill questioned.

"Well... I don't think they're into babes, dude," Ted replied under his breath, barely loud enough for Bill to hear.

"Yeah, I don't think so." Bill paused for a long moment. "Do you.. like.. feel uncomfortable?" Bill asked as they lent up against the bar.

"What? No! No. Dude, I'm fine," Ted panicked, wavings his hands in front of him to try and show Bill that he was most definitely comfortable being here. "I am most supportive of humans being into whatever they wanna be into," Ted took a pause. "I guess I just never thought I'd find myself in this situation." Ted shrugged.

Bill ordered the first round before turning back to Ted.

"Dude, I promise, I had no idea this place was.. you know... that kinda place." Ted wasn't sure if Bills cheeks were red from the heat, or him blushing.

"Whatever," Ted shrugged again. "We're here now, we might as well make the most of it," he grinned, his hair brushing over his eyes, giving his head a gentle shake to move the hair away.

"Excellent," Bill grinned. The two of them cheers'd before having a shot and washing it down with their drinks.

Our most excellent duo found their ways to the crowded dancefloor and began doing some funky moves. They weren't as full-on as usual, the two had agreed to 'tone it down' when out and about. This was a public place, not their rooms where they'd jump on the bed seeing who can do the highest air guitar. The club was playing a mix of songs. It felt like the DJ was just going through the list of what was currently in the charts, but Bill and Ted didn't mind as every now and again a metal song would come on. Plus, they could dance to anything, tho obviously metal was their favourite.

Both Bill and Ted had felt someone's presence watching over them from the minute they walked into the club. Bill hadn't noticed, but Ted noticed a guy checking out Bill as he ordered at the bar. The same guy had now found himself a few meters away from them with his own friends, though kept glancing over to check Bill out.

"Dude, that guy is totally checking you out," Ted said, discreetly pointing to a group of dancers nearby.

Bill looked over his shoulder and accidentally made eye contact with said guy. Bill looked away very quickly, eyes wide and facing the ground for a moment.

Ted only pointed it out because he thought the two could laugh it off, but Bill's reaction made him regret his decision. Bill looked.. off. He was definitely flustered, and for some reason this made Ted feel sick. He suddenly felt protective over his best friend. Well, he was always protective cause that's what best friends do, but he felt disgusted that someone was looking at his best friend in such that way.

His confused anger was put to one side as the call for the restroom came over his body.

"Dude, I gotta use the restroom. Where shall I meet you?" Ted asked.

"Uhh, I'll wait over by the bar," Bill replied.

"Excellent, I'll be quick," Ted said, and the two departed.

Ted was not quick. There was a hefty queue but Ted made it in time. He walked out, wiping his hands on his shirt as the noise the hand dryer made always scared him. His eyes searched the club as he began looking around for Bill, enjoying the Joy Division track that blared throughout the room.

Bill was at the end of the bar, his back facing Ted. Ted could always spot him in a crowd from that soft curly hair of his. He began making his way through the crowd of people, looking down to make sure he didn't stand on anybody's toes. Ted looked up and stood in his tracks, he had felt his heart drop. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.. well, he could believe it, he just never thought he'd see Bill doing it.

Bill's hand was cupping that other guy's cheek as their faces were pulled together. Ted couldn't help but watch the way Bills' head tilted as they deepened their kiss. The guy's hands were tightly around Bill's waist, one hand rubbing the small of Bills back, fingertips going underneath the hem of his shirt. Ted's eyes saddened as he saw Bills' other hand hold firmly onto the stranger's hip, and he could have sworn he saw Bill pull the guy against him more.

Ted felt sick. Ted felt angry.

Ted quickly turned around and rushed out of the club, he wanted to get away from that sight as quickly as possible. He walked. Ted didn't care where he was going, he just wanted to get away. But no matter where he went, or how fast he went, he just couldn't get away from what he'd just seen.

Why was he feeling like this? His best friend had gotten lucky but for some reason that infuriated him. He'd seen Bill get with people before. No, not people.. girls. He'd seen Bill get with girls before, short relationships in high school, managing to get a number when they'd been out, he'd even seen Bill kiss a girl before. But for some reason, the fact that it was a guy made Ted sick to his stomach.

He questioned if he was homophobic but quickly shook that off. He never had been. Sure, his dad was a total homophobe and had tried to raise him to be one, but Ted just couldn't see what was so wrong with it. People can love whoever they want, right? But if that was the case, then surely Bill can too?

Ted turned and stopped down a quiet street. He sat on the curb for a while, one hand on his knee, his head leaning on it as the other rested on his lap. He probably just looked drunk to the odd person that passed by, but for the first time, Ted was feeling a range of sickly negative emotions that he'd never felt before, and didn't know how to handle them.

They shared an apartment, they shared a room! What if Ted got home to find Bill already there with that guy? Or what if Ted got home and was woken up to see Bill bringing that guy home? He was sure Bill would never do such a thing, at least not without asking him first. But what if he did? What if he started dating this guy and Ted had to see him every single day? He didn't want to feel like this forever. He didn't want to feel like this at all.

Ted brushed the hair off his face to stop it from sticking to his skin as tears began rolling over his cheeks. He wiped his eyes before looking forward, staring off into the darkness as his thoughts continued to be fueled by rage. Ted just couldn't figure out why this made him so angry.

His mind went blank for a moment, all he could feel was raw emotion, no thoughts.

When he snapped back into reality, the first thing he thought of was 'what if I was that guy?' Ted seemed taken aback at his own thought, but realized this wasn't the first time he'd questioned how he viewed Bill and their friendship.

Well, what if that guy was him? Ted had sometimes caught himself thinking about Bill, but not in that usual best friend's way. He'd caught himself thinking about things like the way Bill's eyes lit up every time he looked at Ted. Or how he felt the first time he saw Bill in a crop top. Or how any time they'd made accidental skin contact, the feeling would linger on Ted's skin for hours.

Ted thought about that one time where Bill had fallen asleep during a film and accidentally rested his head on Ted's shoulder. He thought about how Bill's hair felt so soft against his neck, and how softly Bill snored. He thought about how calm he felt at the time, how warm his stomach went. He had felt that warm stomach feeling a few times before, but only ever around Bill. He'd read in many books that that's what love felt like, a warm fluttery mess in your stomach, sometimes so strong it can make you feel sick.

Ted could feel that now.

The more he thought about all the times he'd felt that around Bill, the more he could feel it as he sat on the curb staring off into the distance.

And then his mind just couldn't help but picture it. He couldn't help but swap out his memory of that guy with himself. Ted could see it so clearly; himself holding Bill by the waist, trailing his hand on his lower back, slowly moving his fingers underneath Bills shirt and feeling the warmth of his skin. Bill's hand would fit perfectly around the curve of his jawline, his fingertips brushing through the ends of his hair as he'd be pulled deeper into that kiss.

Ted could see it as clear as daylight, not just the image of them kissing, but the feelings he truly felt towards his best friend in the whole Universe.

Bill clearly had an interest in guys, but would he have an interest in Ted? If Ted were to make a move, would he be accepted? Or would that be it? Friendship over.

The millions of thoughts and questions in Ted's head were abruptly cut off as he heard footsteps of someone running towards him.

"Dude, there you are!"

Ted quickly wipes his eyes before looking over his shoulder, knowing the sound of his best friends voice from a mile away. Bills lightly jogging over to him, his crop top bouncing as he runs, though he doesn't seem to mind.

"Dude!" Bill says again as he comes to a halt, resting his hands on his hips and taking a deep breath. "Why'd you leave?" he asks Ted.

"Oh," Teds unsure of if he should tell the truth, but he can't lie to his best friend, can he? "I saw you with that guy," Ted tells him, noticing how Bills eyes go wide.

"Oh, yeah..." Bill rubs the back of his neck, avoiding Teds gaze as he stares at the floor.

"I don't mind, dude. I just didn't wanna get in the way," Ted tells him which is partially true. As much as Ted wishes it was him that Bill was kissing, he also doesn't want to prevent his best friend from enjoying some romance.

"Really?" Bill asks, his eyes coming to meet Teds.

"Really," Ted nods.

"I thought you... I dunno, might have been mad or something, cause.. you know," Bill waves his hand.

"Not at all, my dude. Love is love," Ted shrugs.

"Excellent," Bill grins. As much as the two of them would love to share an air guitar right now, the mood just isn't right. "So, you wanna come get a slushie with me or somethin'? Sit outside the Circle K for a while?" Bill offers.

"Yeah. Sure, dude," Ted agrees as he stands up.

The pair walk mostly in silence, the Circle K only being a few blocks away. It's their favourite comfort spot, they're not sure why, but the vibes there just always seem right. There's thick tension in the air, words and feelings left unspoken, nerves and guilt present on both of their faces.

Ted questions confessing everything to Bill - how he felt when he saw what he saw, how he ran away, how he wishes that stranger was him. Bill questions apologizing - he shouldn't have ditched Ted for a stranger, he should have told Bill about his feelings before jumping straight into it.

Ted pours their slushies whilst Bill pays, quickly giving the clerk his ID as Bill purchases a small bottle of vodka to pour into their drinks. They'd made this cocktail in their late teens but now they were both legal, they could enjoy it in the car park of the Circle K.

And that's where they're sat now, staring out into the emptiness of the road, the only light coming from the streetlamps and the shop behind them. Ted's about to speak, questioning Bill about how he knew he liked guys, wondering if he still likes babes, pondering on how he can figure out his own feelings towards men with the help of Bill and his advice. But Bill speaks first.

"Ted," Bill says as he turns to him, catching Ted's attention. "My dude, I must apologize to you on behalf of my behaviour. Ditching you in that club for a stranger was most bogus of me. It was wrong, and I'm sorry I did it," Bill sincerely apologizes.

"Bill, my most excellent friend, I accept your apology," Ted smiles at him, though that feeling in his stomach still eats at him, eager to find out more. Ted's known Bill for so long, so many years; he can talk to him about anything, so he might as well ask. He's sure it won't ruin their friendship, especially after tonight's turn of events.

"Bill, I have to ask... how did you know that you... you know?" Ted asks, watching Bills eyes drift from his, back out to the empty car park.

"Well..." Bill begins though his thoughts haven't caught up to his mouth yet. "I guess I always knew, I just didn't, if that makes any sense?"

"Kind of."

"Like, I always knew about my love for the babes, but for some reason, I also had that when I looked at dude. Not all of them!" Bill quickly adds, "just some," he shrugs.

"Oh," was all Ted could reply, taking a sip of his alcoholic slushie. "Have you kissed dudes before?"

"Once, yeah, a long time ago."

"Do I know them?" Ted asks, feeling sickly at the thought of someone he knows placing their lips on his precious friend.

"Nah, dude. This was years ago at that shitty summer camp that Dad and Missy sent me to," Bill laughs.

"Oh, I remember that! I'd never seen you look so happy to be back in San Dimas," Ted laughs along.

There's silence for a short while, the two of them sipping away as the liquor and chilliness of the slushie go to their brains. Bill breaks the silence again, but Ted wishes he hadn't.

"Why do you ask, Ted?" Bill questions, making Ted almost choke on his mouthful of the frozen treat.

"Huh?!"

"C'mon, dude, you know what I'm talking about," Bill laughs. "You can tell me... if you want."

"Errr..." Ted ponders. Despite Bill being open about his interest in men, Ted seems to struggle with his. But this is his best friend, his best friend in the whole wide world, and despite the fact that he's fine with telling Bill about his interest in men, he's worried the conversation will lead on to other confessions. Other confessions that Ted's certain Bill isn't going to like.

"I mean, yeah, I've thought about dudes in that way... but I've never done anything," Ted shrugs, his eyes focused on his slushie, fully aware of Bills gaze on him.

"Oh."

"Yeah..."

The pair go back to silence. Bill picks up on how high Teds barriers are, not wanting to even attempt at knocking them down. He's ready to let his best friend talk to him about this stuff whenever he's comfortable, if he even wants to! Bill understands that Ted might just want to keep this stuff to himself, he gets it, he used to feel like that too. And if Ted never even acts on this stuff then that's cool! Bill will be by his side no matter what, and Ted knows that.

"How's your slushie?" Ted asks as his head flicks over to Bill, catching him mid-drink.

"Excellent," Bill grins.

"Has my tongue gone blue yet, dude?" Ted asks, sticking his tongue out for Bill to see.

"Course it has! Has mine gone red?" Bill jokes, sticking his out in return.

"No, dude... it's green," Ted tells him as his face turns white.

"Wait, what?!" Bill yelps, trying to look down at his own tongue.

"I'm only kidding!" Ted giggles, playfully smacking Bills arm. "It's most definitely red," he reassures him.

"Ted!" Bill shakes his head. "You almost had me for a second," Bill says before taking another sip of his drink. "So, my tongue is most definitely red?" Bill asks as he sticks his tongue out again.

"Yeah, why?" Ted questions, tilting his head in confusion to the side, his floppy hair brushing over his eyes.

Bill's not sure if it's the alcohol in his system that has given him the confidence to do this, and he curses himself for using such a cheesy pickup line, but it's all he's god. The words spill out of his mouth.

"Do you wanna make purple?" Bill asks.

Ted looks at him blankly for a moment, the cogs turning in his head as he figures out exactly what his best friend just asked him. His eyes go wide and his mouth parts slightly, but he slowly replies "...sure."

Bill shuffles closer to him, bridging the tiny gap between their bodies as they always sat so close to each other. Their heads turn in unison, and although there's a slightly nervous pause, their lips finally meet each other.

It's a little weird at first, but Bill is the first one to deepen the kiss, Ted following the lead as he'd never done this with a guy before. For some reason, Ted thought it was different with dudes, but it seems the same, only it feels better.

The flavours of strawberry and blueberry finally mix, along with that tint of vodka. Their slushies were strong with alcohol, probably helping both of them gain the confidence to finally do this.

The two of them eventually break the kiss, looking at each other with hazy yet scared eyes, unsure of how the other felt.

"Well? How was it?" Bill asks him.

"That was excellent, Bill," Ted replies, his tone soft.

"You'd tell me if it wasn't though? Promise?" Bill asks.

"Of course, Bill. You're my best friend. I tell you everything," Ted replies with a smile.

Bill pauses. The sound of 'best friend' just doesn't feel right anymore. "I don't think we can be best friends anymore, Ted," Bill ponders.

"What?!" Ted almost screams. "Did I do something wrong, dude?"

"No, no! I mean, it just doesn't sound right... maybe..." Bill pauses, trying to find the words to say it.

"Boyfriends?" Ted nervously questions. The two stare at each other, checking for any signs of discomfort, but there are none.

"Yeah," Bill nods. "Boyfriends," he repeats.

Ted smiles the most adorable smile, and the two share a small air guitar, laughing along with each other. Their lips meet again, only this time there's a lot more certainty in the kiss, like they've finally found where they're both meant to be.

[malethirsty]

Hack: Offset

Summary: You’ve all heard about the infamous Offset ‘Hack’, now find out what caused this scandalous moment!

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap)

Working as a lucrative dancer in Atlanta, in the first ever inter gender stripping troop was no easy task. Many think that it would be easy to get up on stage & shake your ass for a living, but no, not only is rhythm a big part but you also had to contend with sleazes wanting to grab you all over, slut shamers decrying the work you were doing to earn your keep & homophobes blasting you for turning other straight men, when they didn’t recognize they were on the DL in the first place, so NO being a sex worker is not easy, it has a lot of pressure.

So when the club where you worked was booked out for Migos’s Culture Album release party, people were scrambling on all sides. Entertaining a celebrity party meant everything had to be perfect, including routines so your choreographer was working you to the bone. “What do you think they are gonna think?” Your friend Alkira asked you “Hopefully they enjoy the show, cause we’re all sweating fucking buckets trying to get it together.” “Yeah, you think Offset will bring Cardi?” You shrugged “He might, but for the sake of anyone going near her man, I hope not, we don’t need a mess her bodyguards could make.” Alkira snorted laughing “Maybe she’ll put this place on the map, maybe I’ll get a break at last!” “If she knew what’s good for her dancer team, she should. You’re one of the most dedicated here” Alkira beamed at this & walked off to get lunch. You overlooked the club, whilst it was swank, it was also tucked away in the Atlanta scene, with a fair netting of profit. Something as big as Migos having their party meant clout chasers wanting to be where Migos had traded, which would lead to a sizable profit increase. No one including yourself could afford to fuck it up.

At long last, album release party day arrived. The club full of activity as people mingled together, whereas you & the other dancers continued to rehearse your material. You heard the crowd yell from the other end & you shared a knowing look with the others: Migos had arrived. “Everyone: 5 minute warning for the stage!” Your floor manager stated, your group began to fill out & take their places on stage “Ladies & Gentleman, here to perform a Migos styled routine GENERATION THIRSTY!”

The number went so smoothly to the delight of the crowd as you all began with Motorsport which got the crowd into the set as expected, as you all squatted to twerk & turned your head to the adoring crowd, you caught a glimpse of Migos & their VIPs (Cardi among them), they were having a wade of a time watching you all perform, which only increased the performance adrenaline. As Offset’s verse began, you took front stage showing your arsenal, which really got the crowd excited, with wolf whistles sounding from nearly every part of the bar. As you began Hoop Rolling, you moved sensually to the beat, as per usual, sparing a glance out into the crowd as you went round & round. Eventually you caught sight of something that would shake the entire night up: Offset’s eyes were locked on you & he was palming his cock, the famous rapper whom was hitched to Cardi, was getting hard because of you. Like with most things that could distract a dancer, you had to pull it together and finish your part. As your verse finished & Alkira strutted up to perform her part to Cardi’s verse, you heard the crowd pop for her, which made you smile, despite what you had seen.

As the mashup turned to Quavo’s WORKIN ME & Takeoff’s Last Memory, it gave you time to regroup as you controlled yourself properly for another solo. As the last beats of Takeoff’s part began, you strutted back up to general applause to begin a brief routine to Offset’s verse on Taste. As the verse progressed you began to gyrate as the line ‘Make her get on top of me and ride me like a Harley’ sounded through the bar, you spared a quick glance to Offset, locking eyes with him. He nodded right at you as if to say ‘Yeah you’re gonna ride this dick’. You knew you weren’t supposed to be openly flirting with him in front of his wife, but something about him was so damn sexy that you couldn’t help it, eventually the verse transitioned to Bad & Boujee’ which got everyone up on their feet. As you performed to even more raunchier Offset lyrics, you glanced up again, him locking eyes with you again as he licked his lips, he was outright flirting with you, though why, you didn’t know. You didn’t realize you had been sweating until your verse ended & you thankfully moved to the back of the group.

After what seemed like an eternity, the number concluded to roarcus applause & many tips being thrown at you & the others. It was accustomed that the strippers would wait the tables as well, so when Alkira had been pulled to the side by a very enthusiastic Cardi, Migos lost their server & you finally took your chance. You crossed over expecting to see the full band but only Offset was sat down. “Anything I can get your sir?” He looked up “Food was being brought to the table when the other girl took our orders, but I’d like you to sit your ass up here, so we can talk.” He didn’t seem like the type of asshole you tried to pull a ‘Babe let’s go to the bathroom so I can get my dick sucked’ kind of man, so you rather nervously sat down.

“So how come you’re on your own?” You started, breaking the ice. “Quavo’s off dancing with his girl, Takeoff’s answering questions about the music from patrons & Cardi pulled the other girl away. It’s just us.” You listened to Offset fixed on him “Man, you still here?” He asked, waving his hand in your face “Oh, got carried away, sorry Mr. Offset” he laughed, grinning at you “My names Kiari” “Like the wrestler right?” “No that’s Kairi but close though!” Now you both were laughing.

Over the course of half an hour, the two of you delved into conversation about your lives, with you divulging a lot about your arrival on the Atlanta scene. “So Y/N” Kiari said “When did it become your interest to make married men question their marriages?” You faulted, your first interactions with Offset that evening were the topic of conversation “Um” you started but Kiari raised his finger to your lips “Shhh baby, I don’t need much of an explanation. You moved to my verses like that cause you want my dick, you saw during Motorsport that I was hard, how I gripped myself to show you daddy’s packing, I was vibing wit you babe. And then when I licked my lips at you, I was thinking how you’d taste better than my wife” Kiari leaned in, before you knew it & kissed you. His tongue slipped in and you lost all composure, his tongue swept around, you lost in it as you gave a quick moan. Kiari pulled away grinning “You taste great, I want more, I want you to fall apart on my dick, to be my private slut. Let’s get out of here, go to my private room.” It didn’t occur to you to disobey, you followed him to his limo.

As you arrived at his hotel room & went up to it, the tension between the two of you was white hot. One floor had been booked out, with a sign on one of the doors saying ‘Offset’ he keyed in & pulled you into the room. Slamming against the door, you kissed again, his big lips soft & beautiful on yours “Fuck baby! You’re gonna make me cum from a kiss!” You smirked “Then I should make you cum in my mouth first.” You sank down as he unshackled his pants & groaned as you sucked his cock “Oh yeah, that’s it, God damn! Deep throat my big black dick. Collect all that precum, taste it.” You swiped your tongue up his head, causing him to outwardly moan “Fuck, you’re head game’s incredible. I should pay you weekly to worship me!” You slid off to his confusion which turned to groans as you began to suck his balls “HOLY SHIT! Cardi never do this shit for me. It’s fucking amazing, keep going Y/N, Imma be so hard when I fuck you.”

As you continued you ran your hands over his nipples. “Oh fuck man, you wanna worship my whole body! Fuck.” All thought of his wife were out the window, this beautiful man was offering himself to you, and you were intending to take it all. “Keep sucking my dick baby boy! Oh fuck, I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” He shot his load down your throat, shot after shot you gulped down, the taste salty and sweet like chocolate. As you pulled yourself free, you looked up at him “Kiari, is it offensive to say you taste like chocolate?” He laughed, picking you up & kissing you again “Nah, not when you sucked the soul outta my dick! You’re a fucking star!” You grinned as he lead you to his bedroom.

He threw you onto the bed, soft as any bed you’d ever slept on, him falling on top of you, entrapping you in another kiss “Fuck, you made me hard again. You gon kill me man!” Kiari moaned as you looked down & saw once again, his cock was hard. “Fuck me Kiari, make me yours” you groaned out, Kiari taking the chance to tease you with his cock “Beg for it, you’re a fucking slut, tell me how much you love this supreme nigga dick!” You lent up “I don’t love it Kiari, I. WORSHIP. IT. I worship how good it was in my mouth, I worship how heavy it is, I worship all the precum it gave me & I worship the loads it shoots. So make me worship it again Kiari, give me your big black nigga dick!” This pushed Kiari over the edge, he lined up & thrust his cock into your ass causing you to arch up to him “OH FUCK YES KIARI, FUCK ME!” Kiari did so, you holding onto his braids as he fucked you hard, harder than any ho he’d had before “Oh fuck Y/N, your hole tight! Make my dick feel good.” You threw your head back meeting Kiari as he continued his hard rough pace.

You were in utter heaven being taken apart by Kiari’s dick. “Fuck, do dem stripper moves from earlier babe, when you threw your ass back like you riding my cock.” You grinned & began your routine, this time the backing track was replaced with groans from the both of you as his dick continued to fuck you. “You a bad bitch, bad bitches love daddy’s cock” “Yes they do daddy” Kiari groaned “Call me daddy again.” “Yes daddy, I love your big fat cock sir. How amazing it is, how it’s gonna make me bust soon! Fuck Daddy! Keep fucking me!” Kiari lost all composure slamming you to the bed & wrapping his hand round your neck he pounded harder than ever before.

“Yeah, you daddy’s bitch now. And daddy’s good bitch will take daddy’s cock like their life depends on it” he squeezes making you clench around his cock “Fuck yeah!” You reached your hand up to his neck, sliding your hands over his neck tattoo “Fuck, I’m close to cumming, but your your ass, my pull out games out the window! I’m clean, you?” You removed his hand from your neck as you leant up “Clean, on PREP, all of it Kiari.” He grinned “Good, cause daddy’s gonna bust all up in there!” Kiari continued for a few more moments before “Oh fuck! I’m gonna cum! OH FUCK YEAH!” His eyes & head rolled back as he came deep. You also moaned, shooting all over Kiari. Him falling onto you, hitting the bed.

“Fuck Kiari, you’re fucking amazing!” You got out, he grinned, mopping up your shot load from his chest, tasting it himself “Y/N, you taste so good. Imma have to tweet about this.” You barely paid much worry as he got his phone out & began to tweet “What if she sees?” You asked “Let her, I’ll say I was hacked or something & she’ll buy it, she feeble like that.” You laughed “Well now I need a shower to get rid of all that sweat.” Kiari pulled you up “I’ll show you it, it’s probably different than yours, I’ll show you all my colognes as well, make you fancy. Also I’ll show you how good it is to fuck ass in the shower.” You looked shocked at him “You are insatiable!” Kiari shoved you to the wall & kissed you again “Fuck yeah I am.”

Sure enough, as you awoke the next morning, the news of Offset’s ‘Hacking’ was indeed worldwide, Cardi buying right into it. As Kiari left Cardi’s room, he returned into his apartment with you. “I’m gonna have to sneak you out so she doesn’t see.” You had already spruced yourself up so you looked nice so you began to leave before Kiari called you back “I don’t want to live without your tight pussy. I want you to tour with us, be my personal dancer on stage & then after the show, I dick you down like you deserve Y/N. Here” he took your phone & gave you his number “This my private phone, text me if you interested, but after last night, I think you’re more than that.” You grinned leaning up for a last kiss for now “Show me out like a gentleman Kiari.” “Yes Y/N sir” he grinned as you both made your exit.

[queerchoicesblog]

The Thiasus

So, folks, let's start the wlw miniseries writing project!

As announced, the first series to be posted is the Ancient Greece one suggested by @jackievarma , others will soon follow. I decided to name the first bit The Thiasus as it takes place on Lesbos at the famous Sappho's thiasus where rich girls were sent to be educated before their wedding.

Since this is the first fic of this miniseries project, I will just share one thing, so that you can choose whether my approach suits you or not. After much consideration, I decided not to omit from the stories potentially uncomfortable issues. I will add a trigger alert if need be but especially writing about women through the centuries, I'd consider a distortion of truth cutting off for instance homophobia, transphobia, forced marriages, and other unpleasantries like these. They won't be the main topic of my works but sadly they are part of what women had - and still as in a way- to go through so, no matter how tough adding it to the romances is for me, banishing them from these stories would have sounded like spreading a lovely lie, which in the end is simply a lie. Not sure they will recur systematically but if you find it in any of my stories, you know why.

Also, I absolutely hate when writers make poor wlw suffer or die, depriving them of the happy ending we all dreamed of. However, I am the worst at writing happy endings but I'll try. Don't be mad at me if sometimes you won't find one: happy endings aren't and weren't always feasible. But a sad ending is not necessarily mean or homophobic or so I think.

Apologies for the long talk, hope you enjoy it! The next part will be out on Saturday

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

When I joined the thiasus, I was young, a pretty little flower yet to blossom. The first born of a merchant hoping to score a good match and wedding for her daughter. I didn't know what to expect: Sappho's community was well renewed and respected all over Greece, but I knew little about it. All I knew was that it was a school where young girls like me could learn all they needed to learn to be the good wives of powerful men one day. I didn't mind being around girls -if they weren't as annoying as my sisters- but it didn't sound too exciting: we were expected to learn how to properly behave and please, how to sing, play instruments and dance to appeal the Gods and our betrothed. It wasn't entirely correct. Yes, of course, we learned all those things there and refined our grace: from raw childish material we blossomed into gracious young women thanks to Sappho's teachings. But we also learned something more invaluable...eternal, I'd say.

One of the first classes I had there was a few days after my arrival. We were sitting in a circle near an altar in the green, the murmur of the waves crushing against the rocky cliffs echoing in the distance. Our teacher kept quiet for a while, her eyes wandering, taking in each one of us. Then, out of the blue, she asked us what the best thing in the world is. What do you value most in this world?, she inquired. What would you say? Silence fell in our group before someone said "the favour of the Gods" and another "power". A girl sitting next to me exclaimed "a fair husband" while I humbly suggested "happiness". What should we all seek in this life if not happiness? Sappho pondered our words then smiled. When she spoke again, she recited lines that went straight to my heart like an arrow: Some celebrate the beautyof knights, or infantry, or billowing flotillasat battle on the sea.Warfare has its glory, but I place far abovethese military splendorsthe one thing that you love.For proof of this contentionexamine history: we all remember Helen, who left her family, her child, and royal husband, to take a stranger's hand: her beauty had no equal, but bowed to love's command.As love then is the powerthat none can disobey, so too my thoughts must followmy darling far away: the sparkle of her laughterwould give me greater joythan all the bronze-clad heroes I spent the rest of the day repeating those words in my head and wondering who was "her darling far away" whose laughter was a memory so dear to win over glorious heroes. I also wondered if I would ever feel anything close to that: a tender smile still lingered on my teacher's lips at the thought of her. It must be nice, I thought. I've always been a good singer: when I was still at my parents's house I would shock my poor mother and nana saying that I wanted to be a singer, to sing for the passerby in the streets. Nana would comment harshly that it wasn't an honourable occupation for a girl. "Not a respected girl, at least" she chastised me, giving me an assessing look. Mother would agree and suggest that I could always sing for my husband and our guests one day, if my betrothed agreed. Funny enough, it's what happened: I'm an honorouble woman who delights my husband's guest with the finest melodies and hymns. I gave up my dream of singing and dancing free in the streets. But I wasn't surprised to excel in singing at the thiasus. It was not out of hubris, I was just aware of my skills and I basked in my teacher's appraisal. I was so excited when she offered me to perform a duet with another student for the upcoming celebrations. Generally, only older students were allowed to perform on such occasions but she believed I had a special gift and I would have done just fine. What better way to thank the Gods for the talent I received from them? I studied my part eagerly and when I was ready I came back to her and she introduced me to my partner. A girl slightly older than me was sitting with her, her raven curls dancing in the salty breeze from the sea. She graciously stood as Sappho explained the reason of my presence there and told my name, singing my praises. The girl smiled at me and I blushed a little in the sunlight. She noticed and looked back at our teacher, smiling to herself. Or refraining herself from giggling in front of Sappho. "And this, my sweet Athenian, is Kleanthis" our teacher announced with pride. Kleanthis. I repeated her name in my head and it filled me like the perfume of a sweet flower. Kleanthis came from a nearby island, Samos, and was one of the most brilliant student. By the way Sappho talked of her, I got the impression she was destined to follow our teacher's path one day. I was right but I couldn't possibly know it back then. When the pleasantries were over and we were left alone to rehearse before the celebrations, Kleanthis collected her lyre and guided me towards a beach nearby. Once there, she gently strummed her instrument and looked at me over her shoulder. "Let me hear what you've got, Athenian" The first lines were hers: her voice was like a siren's song but not as harmful. She swayed with the music and I had to concentrate not to miss my part just after hers. I had never seen someone like her: as she performed, she transformed herself, her whole body, not just her voice was participating and praising the goddess. She looked nothing short than a terrestrial manifestation of the Graces. Maybe she was one of them, I remember thinking: after all, the Gods visit our world under disguise. We repeated our parts over and over and stopped only when the sun was about to go down into the sea. She wiped away the sweat from her forehead and smirked, handing me her lyre. "Not bad, Athenian. How long you said you've been here?" Then she walked towards the sea and washes her hands into the sea, her face. When she moved back and asked me to follow her, I was mesmerised by the way the last rays of sun sparkled on her wet skin. That night we performed by the altar and it was...magical. Our voices fused together as if they had always meant to be, as if we were the two souls separated by the Gods and destined to meet again. Our hymn to Hera reached the sky and the hearts of our audience. I was ecstatic: the thrill of the performance still running in my veins, the lights of the torches and the moonlight dancing around me, the admiration of the people surrounding me. I felt as if my heart could burst for too much happiness all at once. I went looking for Kleanthis after the celebrations. I wanted to congratulate her and share with her the whirl of feelings inside me. I found her near the woods, away from the crowd. The first thing I noticed was that...she wasn't alone. A few girls were around her, chatting and whispering words I couldn't hear into each other ears. Kleanthis was laughing: one of the girls wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek making her laugh. A melodious sweet laughter. A knot formed in my stomach and I ran away before they could spotted me. I ran to my bed: my cheeks were crimson when I stopped. I laid down and hugged my knees as I used to do when I was a kid and needed reassurance. Kleanthis's laughter rang in my head again and I started crying. I had no idea why but tears ran copiously down my cheeks.

[irlmothmanboy]

📻 !! ♡

idk how to put ‘read more under the cut’ on an ask but i’m going to talk about betty by taylor swift!  source: it 2017-2019 character/ship: richie tozier, though to a lesser extent it is a reddie song first, we have to start out with the headcanons that make this possible! since neither of the characters have canon middle names, i headcanon that richie’s is elizabeth (i heard this once somewhere and cannot for the life of me find it anymore)! this could make eddie’s james, to make the story fit in a bit more, but i’m also going to name my s/i jamison or make his middle name james! now, moving on to lyrics: Betty, I won't make assumptions / About why you switched your homeroom / But I think it's 'cause of me / Betty, one time I was riding on my skateboard / When I passed your house / It's like I couldn't breathe / You heard the rumors from Inez / You can't believe a word she says / Most times, but this time it was true / The worst thing that I ever did / Was what I did to you So of course during the timeline of this, the two characters are in school (junior year, to be exact); either my s/i told richie that he was gay, or had a bad reaction to richie being gay (not homophobic, just surprise). Also, the character ‘inez’ likely refers to beverly Betty, I know where it all went wrong / Your favorite song was playing / From the far side of the gym / I was nowhere to be found / I hate the crowds, you know that / Plus, I saw you dance with him my s/i, still referring to richie as ‘betty’, missed out on a school dance. maybe the earlier mistake was james refusing to go to the dance with rich, and richie danced with somoeone else to make james jealous I was walking home on broken cobblestones / Just thinking of you when she pulled up / Like a figment of my worst intentions / She said "James, get in, let's drive" / Those days turned into nights / Slept next to her but / I dreamt of you all summer long this is where the name james comes from! james spent the summer with a girl, either someone he’s related to or someone who has a crush on him? anyway, all he wanted was to spend the summer with rich but he destroyed that Betty, I'm here on your doorstep / And I planned it out for weeks now but / It's finally sinking in / Betty, right now is the last time / I can dream about what happens when you see my face again / The only thing I wanna do / Is make it up to you finally, the summer is over, and james is getting ready to confront richie about what happened but he’s nervous about richie rejecting him Will you have me? / Will you love me? / Will you kiss me on the porch / In front of all your stupid friends? / If you kiss me / Will it be just like I dreamed it? / Will it patch your broken wings? my s/i wants nothing more right now than for richie to kiss him, despite the homophobia that is present at the time. he hopes that it will make richie ‘clean up’ (’patch your broken wings’) I'm only seventeen / I don't know anything / But I know I miss you / Standing in your cardigan / Kissing in my car again /Stopped at a streetlight, you know I miss you The very last lyrics of the song either show that the two made up after all, or are a reflection of the time before jamie’s mistake

[artificialqueens]

Signs and Elevators (Branjie) - Blackhighheels

(M-Rating for adult topics and language) 

(Read on AO3)

Two

 2

It’s the first time since he’s arrived in Los Angeles that Brock goes out at night and he goes out alone.

It’s not that unusual for him to go out alone to a gay club or bar on Saturday night and look to meet someone, but until a couple of weeks ago he knew everyone from the bouncer to the bartenders to the usual crowd. He’d been part of the gay scene for so long that people looked familiar at least, and even if he went out alone, he knew he would run into someone he knew. Then he moved.

Here in Los Angeles everything is different and unfamiliar. Brock sits at the bar alone and so far has dodged two very open requests for a quick fuck in the bathroom. It’s not what he’s here for, not anymore. It might not be the best place, but he hopes that in a room full of gay men, there will be someone he likes, who is looking for something of more substance and longevity.

Each time Brock thinks about dating and a possible relationship, the face of the elevator hottie, as Steve has named him, shows up in his mind. He has such a cute smile and there’s always some kind of spark in his eyes that makes Brock’s heart beat faster. Brock doesn’t know if it’s mischief or cheekiness, but it’s always there in his expression and it fascinates Brock.

He still hasn’t found out his name, workplace or if he’s even gay, but that doesn’t stop Brock from thinking about the elevator hottie throughout the day, or during the night – or while being in a gay club, nursing his drink alone at the bar.

After a while the barkeeper strikes up a conversation with him and keeps the drinks coming. Brock debates dancing, but he is positive that as soon as he’d step out onto the dance floor alone, someone would rub against him, push his junk up against his ass or grind  down on him.  He doesn’t judge and has done it himself before, but it’s not what he wants at the moment.

When the bar gets really busy and his only source of conversation has to actually work, Brock turns around on his stool and watches the crowd, but is careful not to look at anyone for too long.

It’s funny how even here in L.A. you can make out the different types of people in a club, that never seem  to differ. The dressed up gays that walk the dance floor alone and try to find a fuck for the night. The ones who look around with a slight panic in their eyes and hold on to their drinks too tightly, either because it’s their first time at a gay club like this or because they are officially straight and most likely married. The ones who are very comfortable, chat a bit here and there and seem to know everyone because they are here a couple of times a week are the regulars. And then there are the groups, who just come to have fun, either with their boyfriends or with other gay friends. They are loud and usually drunk.

One group on the other side of the dance floor catches his attention. There’s a man there who is the same height, has the same skin tone, the same built, same hair color… it can’t be… can it? Brock’s heart does that thing again where it speeds up and his stomach feels all fluttery at the mere possibility of the elevator hottie being here.

Brock watches as they move onto the dance floor, their drinks spilling over the rims of their cups, not that they seem to care as they start to move. Moves they certainly have, the one in question in particular. The way he twerks and shakes his ass should be illegal, no matter who he is. Brock gets half hard just watching this guy dance. Does it matter if it’s the elevator guy? Maybe he should try and hook up with him even if he’s not?

When the man turns around and crouches down, just to come back up a second later, Brock gasps; it really is the elevator hottie. If Brock ever needed any confirmation that he’s gay, he has it now. He’s as beautiful as always and Brock just knows that he will smell just as amazing as he does every morning in the elevator.

This is his chance, Brock knows. He has to know if he stands a chance with the guy. He leaves his drink at the bar, knowing he won’t come back to it no matter what and then dances out into the crowd. Brock quickly wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and tries to push his nervousness down. Brock keeps it very mild and sways a bit to the music as he moves in the right direction, so he can accidentally bump into his crush. He giggles, when he realizes how juvenile this move is, but he doesn’t have any other idea at the moment. Just walking over and introducing himself would be awkward after all those weeks in silence every morning. And Brock’s not willing to gamble and wait for the off-chance that he will glance his way and come to him. He’s done with that.

When Brock has finally reached the group, he dances with his back towards them, not sure which one of them is standing behind him at the moment.

The beat gets louder, the crowd goes crazy for the song and Brock finally turns around. There’s a small, cute, black guy with curly hair dancing in front of him but when he looks straight ahead, Brock meets two twinkling brown eyes, who widen in surprise, before they start smiling at him, like they do each morning.

Brock smiles as well and tries to look surprised. His crush doesn’t seem to believe him though, seems to snort and starts laughing.  Then he walks towards him, sassy expression on his face , wraps his arms around Brock’s waist and starts dancing with him, much slower and more closely than the song really calls for. They keep the eye contact as they dance and grind and do all the things Brock didn’t want to do earlier. He really wants to do them now.

It’s only natural that some time into the next song when their eyes meet again, their lips meet. Brock tries to keep his eyes open when their tongues touch and he pulls the smaller man even closer.

They make out right there on the dance floor in the middle of sweaty bodies surrounding them and slamming into them or they slam into the others as they stumble blindly through the dim room. Their way ends up with Brock being pressed against the wall as elevator hottie kisses him senseless, his hands on his ass and in his hair, angling his head. Brock wonders if he should stop this for a second, just to make it clear that he’s not a bottom, an info that seems needed the way his ass gets kneaded and fondled through his jeans. The idea flies from his head when their crotches touch again. They’re basically fucking each other against the wall with their clothes still on, yet Brock doesn’t want to stop it – not that he could. He’s completely overwhelmed by the smaller man and the way he kisses, tastes, feels and smells. It’s even better than he imagined.

Brock’s very close to coming in his pants, hopes that this is just the start of the night for them, when Brock suddenly remembers that he doesn’t even know the name of the other man. He can’t call him elevator hottie while they are fucking, can he? And asking him the next morning, in a ‘by the way’ kind of way would be very awkward.

So Brock places a hand on his chest and slowly pushes him backwards, following him with a his head for a moment, so their lips and tongues won’t have to separate just yet. Brock would keep kissing him all night, if this wasn’t so important to him.

”What’s your name?” Brock yells over the loud music of the club, panting hard. Cutie wrinkles his forehead and cocks his head to the side, then gestures up in the air and points to his ears, Brock curses quietly and tries to dig his cellphone out of his pocket, which is difficult, because the hottie’s arms are still wrapped around him, his mouth back to sucking on his neck and Brock’s still painfully hard and straining against his jeans, which doesn’t exactly create space to work with.

‘What’s your name?’ Brock types and shows it to the smaller man.

‘Jose. You?’ Comes the typed reply.

‘I’m Brock’

Jose smiles and types again for a moment longer. ‘Nice 2 meet ya. Gimme a call sometime. Number saved under Jose elevator’ Brock reads the message as soon as his phone is handed back to him. When he looks up, Jose smirks, smooches him one more time, the kiss messy and wet, then purses his lips and walks off into the crowd with a long glance back and that sassy expression on his face, that makes Brock even harder in his pants.

”You fucking tease.” Brock laughs and watches him go. It’s also the first thing he texts him later, when he’s back at home in bed.

***

One

1

Brock is happy when after only three weeks at his new job, he’s managed to implement a steady work routine; one that gives him time for not getting up too early, not working too late and therefore makes it possible to have a life outside of work. He’s able to workout again, meet friends or just relax in front of the tv. Brock could even date again, if he found someone worth his time.

He’s pretty sure all of his new colleagues are straight, even though none of them seem to have problem with him being gay.

Maybe it’s the start up character of the business or just the field they’re in. But as a company producing calendars, office devices and books that help create awareness and self-care, there seems to be no space for homophobic assholes. Instead Brock’s surrounded by vegans, yoga practitioners, happy go lucky personalities, social justice fighters and the occasional soft-hearted grump, who usually either works in accounting or IT.

Every morning, Brock gets up at seven and heads to the yoga class just around the corner of his apartment. Afterwards, he comes back and showers, then leaves and walks to the office building, buying breakfast on the way.

It’s usually the same people in the elevator: The small woman with the curly hair from the pet supply company. A man in his fifties, who looks like the director of something and always gets out first on the second floor. He could easily walk, but doesn’t. And ‘sexy guy’. Brock secretly named him after he seeing him the first time.

He’s cute, smaller than Brock – which is not unusual because he’s quite tall – has warm brown eyes, tan smooth skin and always accurately styled, dark hair. His whole outfit is always so on point and everything matches down to the necklaces, rings and earrings. Sometimes his tattoos show and sometimes they don’t. There’s a women’s name tattooed on his arm and Brock wonders if that’s his wife or girlfriend. Or, if he’s really unlucky, his ex? Then again, Brock’s gaydar goes off when he sees the guy and maybe the name belongs to someone else?

Brock always tries to stand close to him in the elevator, because he loves the cologne he uses. After two days of enjoying it, Brock makes a point of putting on cologne or aftershave as well.

The first day Brock sees him in the elevator, he catches glimpses of him out of the corner of his eyes. He wonders where he works, but Brock has to get out before him. So wherever he works, it’s higher up in the building.

After about a week of riding on the elevator together they sometimes nod at each other in recognition. To make it less obvious, Brock does the same with the other people in the elevator, but none of them make him as giddy as the sexy guy. Whenever he nods back at Brock, Brock can’t keep the dopey smile off his face and his colleagues quickly catch on that there’s something going on some mornings. Brock’s in a very good mood then, while he’s down whenever the sexy man isn’t there or is blocked by someone else standing in front of him.

Another two weeks later they nod and smile. What a smile it is! Brock marvels at the cute dimple on his left cheek.

And Brock tries to find out which company he could work for. There’s a couple of lawyers in the building, but that doesn’t sound right. A company who produces software for special needs children, which he also can’t picture him working for. There’s also a fashion outlet with offices and a make-up company somewhere up there. These two sound more likely, the way he’s dressed.

”Why don’t you just ask him?” his friend Steve asks him when he discusses the possibilities with him for the fourth day on a row. Debating if he’s working in make-up or fashion and which job he could have. Something creative? Certainly not accounting…

”I can’t just ask a complete stranger I only see once each day in the elevator ‘Oh, by the way, where’re you working?’”

”Why not? If he’s really gay it could be a good way to get talking. And if he’s not it’s innocent enough.”

”I don’t know,” Brock replies.

”Since when are you so shy? You were the biggest slut in town.”

”Yeah, exactly: were. I told you, I’m done with hookups and no strings attached. I want to take this new start here and find something that lasts.”

”Yeah, yeah, I know. You left New York and a job where you made a shitload of money for some small start up in L.A so you can find love.”

”Mock me all you want, I don’t care. I’m gonna find a man and settle down and I won’t be alone anymore.”

”Who knew you ho were such a romantic,” Steve laughs. ”But good for you. So the elevator hottie, he could be the one?”

”I don’t even know his name yet.” Brock chuckles and rolls his eyes at his best friend. Being the one is a lot of pressure and maybe Brock should try and find out his name and ask him out on a date first.

”Then find it out!”

”I will.” He promises Steve and himself as well, because he really knows that.

The next day waiting for the elevator Brock rehearses the words he’s come up with in his head. However, when he steps onto the elevator with the usual crowd, the person he looks for isn’t there.

For two weeks he’s gone and then he’s suddenly back again, looking better than ever and stuns Brock into silence. They nod at each other again; it takes another week until they’re back at smiling and nodding once more.

And then, one day when Brock reaches his floor and it’s just the two of them, he turns around when he’s already out of the elevator and gives him a small wave and another smile. And the hot guy looks surprised at first, but then his eyes crinkle at the corner, he smiles and waves back much more enthusiastically than Brock did. Brock knows it’s his chance and opens his mouth, but then the doors close and once more the chance is gone.

***

Four

4

Brock is fifteen minutes early to their first real date, but he just couldn’t wait at home any longer. He tried, not to be that dork again, but ultimately failed.

Brock changed his outfit five times, cuddled the cats for a bit, texted his best friend and finally walked part of the way before he called an uber; all of it in an attempt not to be ridiculously early.

When Brock got to the restaurant he smoked a cigarette in hopes of calming down, paced a bit in front of it and finally, five minutes after their agreed-upon the, he want inside and asked if his date was already inside. He wasn’t.

So Brock was back to waiting outside, pacing a bit and smoking. Each cigarette followed by some gum, because he didn’t want to smell and taste like ash, for the slim chance that he would to get to kiss Jose again. Eight came and went and Brock checked his phone.

Until when, ten past eight, Jose’s finally here and Brock can’t even be angry or annoyed, because he’s juts so glad that they are both here, finally, on this date he’s waited for weeks and months.

”Hey, it’s good to see you,” Brock greets Jose, who smiles widely in return, but blushes a bit. They quickly hug, share a quick peck on the lips, what  feels a bit awkward. The pressure of them all dressed up outside of this fancy restaurant seems to get to the both of them. ”Let’s go inside.”

Inside the posh Italian restaurant, they are guided to the table Brock has reserved. It’s outside on then patio, overlooking a large garden. It’s really romantic with the sun set in the background and the candle on the table.

”They even have fairy lights up. This is so cheesy,” Brock laughs and hides his face in his hands for a second. He wanted this to be a really romantic first date, because he likes Jose so much. But he’s afraid it’s a bit too much, if Jose isn’t into cheesy romance.

”The menus,” the waitress makes him look up again. As he takes one menu his eyes meet Jose’s who twinkle with amusement from across the table. ”Do you already know what you want to drink?” the waitress goes on, looking at the both of them.

”Some wine?” Brock asks Jose, who simply nods. ”Can you bring us a bottle of red wine, please? Maybe this one?” Brock asks her and points to the menu. He knows the wine, he just isn’t sure he wouldn’t bitch up the Italian name if he tried to pronounce it.

”Yes, of course.” She is gone again and they both open the large menus to see what they want to eat.

They waitress comes back once more with a basket with bread, some olives, ham and oil, before she returns and brings the ordered wine. She expertly uncorks the bottle and ours them each a glas of the dark red liquid.

”So, what would you like to eat?”

”I’ll take bruschetta as a side and the spaghetti vongole as the main course please.” Brock ells her and closes his menu. They both look expectantly at Jose. He seems unsure, but then seems to have made up his mind as he shows the waitress what he wants. Brock laughs and it makes him feel a bit better about the wine order and Jose returns his smile.

Once they are alone again, Brock raises his glass. ”To us finally being here on a date,” he toast and Jose softly clinks his glass against his. They sip their wine and for a moment Brock looks out into the garden, that’s illuminated in the near dark now.

”It’s so weird that the sun sets so fast here. Before, when I lived on the East coast it took much longer. Or at least it feels like it.” He muses. Jose watches him with a soft look, but doesn’t really react. Silence settles between them as they look at each other and for a while it’s comfortable. Until it isn’t anymore.

Jose’s smile is gone and he starts fiddling with the silverware.

”This is stupid.” Brock sighs and points between the two of them. Jose’s mouth drops open and his eyes go wide, before he seems to catch himself, bites his lip and looks down to the white table cloth.

Brock gets up, walks around the table and takes his chair with him. The table is wide enough and he doesn’t care if it looks stupid. It’s their first date and everyone else just has to suck it. He places his chair next to Jose’s, then picks up his napkin, silverware and glas and places it in front of him under Jose’s watchful eyes.

”There, better,” he decides and takes his cellphone out of his pocket. ”There’s something I wanted to show you anyway.” Jose places his hand on top of Brock’s arm as he leans closer to the screen. Again, he smells incredible and Brock really has to ask him what cologne he uses, once it won’t make him sound like a creep anymore.

Brock shows him the new coffee place around the corner of their office building and tells him about the special blend of coffee they have. Jose agrees that they absolutely have to check it out next time they meet for lunch or coffee. The waitress is a bit surprised by the new seating arrangements when she comes back with their food, but it’s not like they care.

***

Six

6

Watching Jose talk and joke with his friends is like watching a good play. He is so incredibly expressive and animated. Brock loves watching him. It makes his heart flutter and his cheeks hurt and eyes crinkle, because he smiles so much.

He’s sitting outside on the balcony, smokes and watches the lively discussion inside. He has no idea what they are talking about, but he can see Jose’s hands flying through the air, the way his face expresses every emotion and how his whole body shakes when he throws his head back and laughs.

Jose’s easily the most beautiful man he’s ever seen and the most beautiful person he’s ever met. Jose has such a big heart, is incredibly funny and never boring. Every time they spend time together it feels like an adventure and Brock can never tell the outcome.

Also, Brock learns so much by seeing the world through Jose’s eyes. They come from completely different backgrounds, different cultures, still live in different worlds with different types of friends, different hobbies and work places, but Brock isn’t scared. He can’t wait to get to know Jose’s world more and more and hopefully become a part of it for a very long time.

They have been dating for a bit over five months, but already Brock doesn’t want to imagine a life without Jose. Brock came to L.A. looking for love and he’s found Jose. And Jose’s everything Brock dreamed of.

Brock blows the smoke out into the night and sees Jose coming his way.

‘You’re ok?’ he asks him and runs his hands through Brock’s hair a moment later. Brock knows Jose likes doing that, pulling at his curls, messing his hair up completely. Brock enjoys the familiar touch, even though Jose never lets him reciprocate in public. Not that it’s possible anyway with all the product Jose has in his hair to keep it styled perfectly, after blow-trying it each morning.

”Yes, of course. Just sneaked away to smoke.” He looks up at him and Jose kisses him, his teeth teasing Brock’s lower lip.

‘You’re not bored out here on your own?’ Jose wants to know once he’s pulled back.

”I’m good.” He assures him, but wraps his arms around Jose’s waist and pulls him closer. When he’s close enough, Brock rests his head against Jose’s chest for a second. When he pulls back he stubs out his cigarette. ”You wanna stay for much longer?”

‘An hour or two? Is that ok?’

”Yes, sure. You’re staying at my place tonight?”

Jose smirks and nods, then leans down and kisses him again. Brock knows he must taste like cigarettes, but Jose doesn’t seem to mind as they start making out on the small balcony, Jose ending up in his lap.

After a while a paper ball hits the side of Brock’s face.

”Hey!” he complains and turns around, where he finds A’keria staring at him with both eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face.

‘You’re coming or what?’ A’keria asks Jose, who rolls his eyes, pecks Brock’s lips again and walks back into the room. Halfway in, he stops and turns around again.

‘Half an hour’ he let’s Brock know, winks and then joins his friends again.

Brock watches once more, sees the laughter and the wild gestures of the man he knows he loves. But he hasn’t told him yet. He needs a bit more time to be able to tell him that.

***

Three

3

After their meeting and make-out session at the club, they text back and forth over the weekend and because Brock has a meeting in the morning and will be in much earlier than usual but skip lunch, they agree to meet for a coffee break in the afternoon.

Brock thinks it’s unbelievable how much they have in common, judging by the text messages they’ve exchanged. They both like the same movies and tv shows. They both like dancing and hanging out at the beach here in Los Angeles. They even favor the same coffee shop and live in the same area. It’s a wonder they haven’t run into each other much earlier outside of work.

The work meeting that seems endless takes Brock’s mind off the date for most of the morning, but when two o'clock comes around, he feels himself getting nervous again.

How should he greet Jose? They haven’t really spoken yet, only texted, but they have already made out and kissed A LOT. Hell, he nearly fucked him right beside the dance-floor.

He hurries out as soon as he dodges that one colleague, who has to ask a question that just cannot wait, when he’s halfway out the door.

Brock’s two minutes late when he gets to the coffee shop. Jose is already sitting at a table, his iced-coffee in front of him. Jose smiles and waves when he sees him and Brock is relieved when the awkwardness he felt before dissolves.

”I’m just getting my coffee,” he tells Jose loudly and points to the counter. Jose nods and smiles again.

They keep sneaking glances at each other as Brock orders and then waits for his drink. When he finally holds it in hands and makes his way over to Jose, he smiles even wider, warmth spreading through his chest. He’s waited months for this first date and the chance to finally get to know Jose.

”Hey, it’s so good to see you!” Brock greets him and gives him a quick hug. ”I nearly had to cancel when the meeting I was in, just wouldn’t stop,” Brock continues as he sits down at the small table and places his drink on it. ”You know these meetings that could be done in like an hour, but just go on and on without there really being a point?” When Brock looks at Jose, Jose has a strange look on his face. ”Or maybe you don’t, because maybe you don’t have meetings or something, like, I don’t even know what you do for work and I probably should’ve asked before, like…I wanted to but…” Brock rambles and only stops when Jose taps the back of his hand with his fingers and makes him look up. ”Mmh?” Brock looks at him when Jose remains silent and then takes a deep breath. Jose seems nervous all of a sudden.

Jose points to himself then to his ear, but that doesn’t matter at the moment, because Brock can read it from Jose’s lips, when he speaks the words without sound. ‘I’m deaf.’

Jose goes on, signing something, but Brock doesn’t get it. He’s never learned ASL and honestly, his mind is blown at the moment. Jose is deaf. But he was at the club, he danced, he works in the same building and… how are they gonna communicate?

Jose seems discouraged by Brock’s silence or maybe angry, Brock can’t tell, but either way Jose looks upset and wants to get up. Brock stops him by placing a hand on his arm.

”Wait,” Brock tells him, ”Please.” Then he quickly gets up and hurries to the counter and asks the barista for a pen and some paper. With a smile he shows it to Jose and sits back down.

‘I didn’t know. I’m sorry I don’t know sign language’ Brock writes on the paper and shows it to Jose, who starts laughing.

‘You got the worst fucking handwriting and I have no idea what that says’ his reply reads and Brock has to laugh, too. Then Jose hands him his phone with the notepad app open and Brock types in the same sentence, he just wrote down on the paper. ‘And I know my handwriting sucks’ Brock adds.

‘You don’t mind?’ Jose writes back, his face showing the same surprise as his words.

‘I don’t mind if you don’t mind. You could teach me some sign language.’ Brock’s answer makes Jose smile widely.

‘If you speak slowly I can also read your lips.’

This makes Brock laugh. ‘Bet that comes in handy sometimes when you want to know what people are saying who don’t want to be overheard.’

‘Yup! But now these hos on tv and sports always cover their mouths, robbing us poor deaf people of our fun.’ Brock laughs again and moves closer to Jose.

‘You’ve always been deaf?’ he asks him, now really curious.

‘Yup, born this way, mama. I’m a capital D’

Brock does a double take, but that’s really what the text says. ‘A big dick?’ he can’t help but ask.

Jose nearly spits out his coffee when he reads it, then laughs loudly and squeezes Brock’s wrist tightly.

‘Capital D means that I’m deaf, always have been and live in that culture, ya know? Most of my friends are deaf, I went to a school for deaf kids, I work for a company with deaf colleagues creating software for deaf kids…’ Jose explains. ‘If you nice, maybe you’ll find out about the other D.’ Jose smirks as he hands Brock the phone, who starts laughing again.

They giggle together over their coffees and the messages on Jose’s phone.  It feels like passing notes in class as teens and the messages get more flirty. Brock also asks how Jose can dance at the club and Jose explains to him, that he can feel the music, even though he doesn’t hear it.

”I really like you and I’d love to see you again,” Brock says slowly and looks Jose directly in the eyes, hoping he can read his lips, when their time is nearly up and they have to go back to work.

Jose smiles widely and rests his hand on top of Brock’s while he types with the other.

‘Like a date?’ Brock reads and nods his head. Jose’s smile gets even wider. A moment later Jose kisses Brock softly.

”That a yes?”

Jose nods his head, beams at him and raises his eyebrows.

‘I have to go now, because I have another meeting in ten minutes. I’ll text you later about that date?’ Brock types into Jose’s phone.

’Sounds great.’ Jose agrees and Brock steals another quick kiss.

‘How do you say ‘Bye’ in ASL?’ Brock asks Jose before he leaves.

Jose rolls his eyes, then simply waves and makes Brock chuckle again.

”That’s easy. See I’m already learning ASL and doing good,” he smirks and waves back. Jose laughs and follows him outside, signs something else.

“What does that mean?” Brock asks.

Jose types again and shows him the screen 'Dumbass’ Brock reads and guffaws.

“So I’ll know all the insults before you teach me something else?” they reach their office building and wait for the elevator.

'That’s how you learn languages’. They step into the elevator. As soon as the doors close neither is interested in talking anymore and instead they get reacquainted with their lips until Brock has to leave. This whole coffee date was nothing like what he expected, but he loved every second of it. Now he just has to come up with an idea for a first real date.

***

Seven

7

The flashing lights of the alarm clock wake Brock up and he groans, not ready to get up yet. He rolls over and wraps his arm around Jose’s waist and presses his lips to his neck as the front of his naked body presses against Jose’s naked back. No matter how early it is when they have to get up, having his boyfriend there always makes it better.

Jose raises one arm without opening his eyes. ‘What time is it?’ he asks.

‘Seven. You wanted to join my at yoga today, remember?’  Brock signs and laughs when Jose groans loudly and pulls the comforter over his head. Brock quickly pulls it off, laughing about the way Jose’s hair stick up in every direction and his overall rumpled look.

‘I want to sleep’ Jose grumbles. Brock can tell the ‘tone of voice’ now by the way his man signs. He’s learned a lot over the last seven months. He’s by no means fluent in ASL, but he’s fluent in Jose and that’s even more important. Brock always understands what Jose’s saying, even when Brock might not always understand Jose’s friends.

”Come on, get up! Just last night you said you wanted to come so you’d be more flexible. You’re coming to yoga class with me.” Brock tells him when Jose is finally looking at him.

‘Fine, but you owe me!’ Jose finally gets up.

”What do I owe you?” Brock chuckles as he pulls Jose into the bathroom. He turns on the water and turns back around so he can see Jose’s answer. Jose already has his mouth full of toothpaste, but signs even with the toothbrush in hand.

‘A shower and sexy times after yoga, lunch, coffee in the afternoon so I won’t falls asleep at my desk. And you have to take me out to dinner tonight.’

”So you’re making me your slave for the day?” Brock laughs and picks up his own toothbrush.

‘Yes’ Jose smirks when he signs it.

”Asshole,” Brock rolls his eyes, pinches Jose’s nipple and starts brushing his own teeth.

Yoga class is a lot more fun with Jose there. The fact that they can talk while not disturbing the others because they are signing is amazing. Brock only hopes no one knows ASL as Jose’s comments get more and more dirty as the lesson continues. His boyfriend is already thinking of ways to include the poses into their sex life, which has Brock snorting with laughter more than once.

At the end of the class, he’s glad that they didn’t get thrown out because of his last laughing fit. They quickly get ready for work at home and take the second shower of the day. Usually Brock doesn’t shower before the class, but since they just fell asleep last night after sex, they still had to clean themselves up.

Jose gets his requested blowjob in the shower and they actually make it to work in time.

When they step into the elevator it’s empty and they make use of it by making out.

‘Don’t forget to bring me lunch’ Jose, still in a bratty mood, requests as they near Brock’s story.

”Knowing you, you’re gonna send me twenty messages reminding me,” he snarks back.

‘So?’ Jose smirks.

The elevator doors open and Brock has to get out. ‘I love you. See you later’ Brock signs and kisses his man one more time, blocking the doors with his body.

”Love you, too, babe,” Jose replies with a soft look, followed by another soft kiss. Then Brock leaves, a happy smile on his face. He can’t wait for lunch time to come around, so he gets to see Jose again. It’s part of their new routine together.

***

Five

5

It doesn’t happen the first time they have sex, or even the second or third. These first times are exciting as much as they are awkward, which is always true when you have sex for the first time with someone new.

You just don’t know yet what they like and they don’t know your body yet. You discover each other, explore and go by trial and error. With Jose that’s even more true, because Brock still doesn’t know ASL beyond the very basics and so Jose can’t tell Brock what he likes or doesn’t like. He has to pull and push him, guide his hand or shake his head. Still, they are good together right from there start; They have chemistry that’s off the charts and can laugh about themselves and their clumsy attempts at communication and sex.

Brock is surprised at first how bossy Jose can be in bed. Brock’s never been with anyone who took charge as much and has to laugh that he had fallen for the whole submissive bottom tale. Yet, during his hook-ups before the stereotype hadn’t been challenged.

They are in Jose’s bedroom, Jose riding Brock with his eyes closed and Brock’s hand wrapped around his dick. Brock knows how he likes to be stroked and touched at this point. Brock watches him, sees the pleasure on his face as Jose gets closer to climax, which brings Brock closer to the brink as well.

Suddenly Jose moans loudly once, then a second time. Brock comes immediately, the sound too exciting. Jose follows a couple of thrusts later and comes over Brock’s hand and stomach. Then he climbs off him and lies down next to Brock after wiping himself and Brock clean with a towel.

”You moaned.” Brock tells him after they shared another deep kiss. ”That’s the first time I heard your voice.”

‘Sorry’ Jose signs and hides his face in Brock’s shoulder.

Brock cups his cheek and makes him look at him, so he can see what he’s saying. ”Why are you apologising? I loved hearing your voice.”

Jose quickly grabs his phone off the nightstand and starts typing, so Brock knows the explanation will be longer and too complex to sign in a way that Brock would understand. Sometimes, he understands when Jose adds more gestures and facial expressions or points at things. But there are things that can’t be acted out.

‘As a kid I learned to speak at school, by mimicking sounds and shit. I can’t hear it but I must sound stupid ‘cause everyone was always laughing and mocking me at home. My cousin said I sound like a retard and my voice’s fucked up. And they never got what I was saying anyway, so I stopped trying to talk.’

”So you can speak?” Brock asks, weirdly proud of Jose, because it must be hard to learn words and form sounds you can’t hear.

‘Yeah, but I don’t want to. I’m sorry. I feel stupid doing it.’

”Don’t apologise, papi. I just really liked hearing your voice and I don’t want you to feel ashamed. You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to, ok? I didn’t even know that you were able to speak, so…you know, I’m learning ASL and I’ll get there and we can really talk, ok? Even fighting will be easier when we don’t have to text all the time.” Brock chuckles and so does Jose.

‘It’s fucking cute you learning ASL for me. No one’s ever tried.’ Jose smiles and kisses him, after Brock’s read the message.

”I’m trying, but it’s hard,” Brock chuckles about himself and his first few lessons. Who knew that sign language has grammar rules? And Brock’s always sucked at learning new languages. ”But I can sign my name now!” Brock reports proudly and sits up, so he can show his boyfriend. He hasn’t really shown Jose anything that he’s learned so far, scared he would fuck up and have Jose think he’s an idiot. However, he’d be a hypocrite for wanting Jose to use his voice sometimes, yearns to hear it actually, when he himself is too embarrassed to sign for Jose.

Jose watches him closely as he signs his own name, beams at him and kisses him.

‘Good job’ he lets him know.

”I know one more.” Brock goes on and signs ‘Jose’ slowly, then adds ‘my boyfriend’. He’s rewarded with enthusiastic kisses once again. He lies back down with Jose on top of him, holding Jose close as he runs his hands over his still naked body.

Jose breaks the kiss and smiles, before the look in his eyes becomes shy.

”Brock,” he says slowly, but clearly. Brock can’t believe that Jose’s just said his name out loud. He loves his voice and he loves that he’s using it just for him. So much so, that it brings tears to his eyes.

”You saying my name is perfect. Thank you,” he explains his tears and pulls him into another kiss, that quickly leads to round two. Jose doesn’t even try to stifle his moans anymore, his rough voice echoing through the room as he says Brock’s name.

The end

AN: This was inspired by the short movie 'Sign’. If you haven’t seen it yet, go watch it. Also, I need to point out that while I’ve done some research, I have no experience with ASL or Deaf/deaf people. So feel free to point out if there’s something depicted majorly wrong in this story.

[echo-bleu]

New Year

Title: New Year

Fandom: Roswell New Mexico

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 1436

Characters: Alex Manes, Maria DeLuca, Rosa Ortecho

Summary: New Year's Eve at the Wild Pony is hard on Alex.

A/N: This is a little snippet of a fic that wanted to be written today. I had the first sentence, then it went wildly different from what I expected, but I like it like it is.

[PTSD flashback/panic attack, implied alcoholism]

Read on AO3

Coming to the Wild Pony's New Year's Eve party was a terrible idea, Alex decides as he squirms in his seat, nervously checking his watch. He's starting to wonder if the hand is frozen at twenty minutes to midnight. He doesn't even know why he caved in to his friends' relentless nagging. So they would leave him alone, probably. That plan failed spectacularly, since he's now stuck in a corner of the packed bar, watching Maria, Liz and Rosa dance and trying not to flinch every time someone comes within three feet of him.

He knows that Maria hoped tonight would be an opportunity to start repairing their damaged friendship. They've barely seen each other since she ended things with Michael, only days after they first hooked up, when the revelation that not only Michael was an alien but also that he helped cover up her best friend's murder proved to be too much for her.

Alex wants to forgive her. He wants to go back to their easy camaraderie, to support each other over drinks and talk about boy problems and Maria's mom's health and what Alex will do after his discharge. He doesn't want the pang in his chest every time he thinks of her and Michael, the tears he can only stop by snapping at her with a biting comment. They did nothing wrong, he tells himself. He and Michael were not together. Alex didn't tell Maria the full story. She didn't know.

“Alex,” a voice shakes him out of his thoughts, and he looks up. Maria just slid into the seat across from him, her cheeks red from dancing and drinking. Alex's hand tightens around his glass.

“Tired of dancing?” he asks with his best fake smile.

Maria clearly sees through his facade, but she plays along. “I want to dance with you,” she says.

“I don't dance anymore,” Alex says.

Not that he's danced a lot in his life. He went to prom without a date, since the whole school knew he was gay anyway. No boy offered to parade around with him. Then the military didn't offer many opportunities for dancing.

Maria's eyes flicker down to his legs. His left leg is moving quietly in rhythm with the music, but his right stays still, missing a working ankle to bounce.

“Come on. I'll go easy on you.”

Alex looks away, not letting their eyes meet. He hates himself for not being able to do something as simple as faking it. Why is it so hard tonight? He's a master at pretending he's fine. He smiled his way through his hospital stay and his rehab. He smiled his way through his abused childhood. He can do this.

“Okay,” he decides suddenly. He stands up so brutally that his chair screeches on the floor, but it's drowned out by the music. It's loud, too loud in here. Alex can't hear people approaching him. Sounds fade into each other and make his head pound. His leg aches.

Maria's small hand slips into his. Alex is briefly grateful for her not going over the top, or being too tentative. She's trying, and so is he. It's awkward and painful but they're doing their best.

She's apologized, several times, for not understanding, for breaking her promise. Alex doesn't know why it doesn't feel like enough.

Liz lightly bumps into him, as Alex starts moving his hips in rhythm with the music. His leg doesn't love it, but it's not too bad. It's a song he likes, even though the noise is hard to bear. Maria smiles, and Rosa high fives her.

They're happy together. Now Max has been resurrected, and Rosa has a new identity, the dust has settled and they have a moment of peace. Alex swallows.

They've all cheerfully abandoned the Caulfield files to him, leaving him to spend his nights watching footage of aliens being tortured−Alex can handle it, can't he? He's a soldier. He's seen worse. Hell, he's done worse.

He hasn't slept two hours in a row in months. When it's not nightmares, it's the pain. He keeps things close to heart, though. It's his own fault, he knows, for not telling anyone.

In a moment of clarity, Alex identifies the feeling that's been nagging him since that night he found Maria and Michael kissing. It's loneliness. Maria's betrayal hurt so much because she was the first person he ever told about Michael, and she treated his confession of love like a joke. Michael keeps throwing his father in his face like he's the only one who's ever been hurt by him. Kyle knows bribes, about the abuse, about Michael, but he doesn't ever ask more. No one knows about the homophobic jokes Alex smiles through at work, where he has to pretend to be someone he isn't. They don't know about the scars on his body that aren't from the war, and the ones that are. They don't know about the pain or the flashbacks or the fear that grips him sometimes. They don't know about the men who died under his command and the people who died by his hand, and how much they haunt him, every single day.

No one asks.

Feeling like he might choke, Alex steps away and escapes through the front door. Less than ten minutes to midnight, his watch tells him. He glimpses a cowboy hat, but it's not Michael. The alien siblings are here somewhere tonight, he knows, but he hasn't seen them.

He toys with the idea getting into his car and just driving home, but he resists the impulse and goes the opposite direction instead. Maria's red truck is parked at the end of the lot, closest to the bar's back door, so he lays down the back and sits on the edge, crossing his arms over his chest. He's cold.

In a minute, everyone else will be heading out to see the fireworks, starting at midnight. Alex has been dreading this moment most. He braces himself, trying to take deeper breaths. The music still resounds loudly, even with the doors of the bar closed against the cold.

“What's wrong?”

Alex looks up in time to see Rosa approach. He's missed her leaving the bar. She sits down beside him, one leg tucked under her.

“Nothing,” Alex says. They haven't talked a lot since she was resurrected. Alex still isn't used to that thought, that he now has ten years on her. They used to be good friends.

“Don't give me that. I may be dead, but I'm not ignorant. I can see you're struggling.”

Alex sighs, but he doesn't answer.

“I am too, you know. It's hard to watch so many people drinking. Liz and Maria have good intentions, but they don't think sometimes.”

Neither does Alex, apparently, because he's hadn't even noticed. “It's gotta be hard,” he says.

“You know what? I'm really glad you didn't just ask me if I was thinking of having a drink. I'm not, by the way. It doesn't mean it's not hard.”

“I know,” Alex murmurs. “It's hard to be around so many people. And so much noise.”

Rosa nods. “Yeah. Let's stick together, okay?”

“Um,” Alex agrees. On an impulse, he adds, “It's five to. Fireworks soon. Can you−”

Rosa shifts and grabs his hand. “I'll be here,” she says.

“Thank you,” Alex gives her a small smile. “I've missed you.”

“Oh, mijo,” Rosa murmurs. “It wasn't long ago for me, but I thought...when I first saw you in uniform, I thought you'd changed too much. I thought you weren't you anymore. You've all...everything's so different.”

For a moment, Alex sees his own loneliness reflected in Rosa's eyes. “I'm still me,” he murmurs. “Just more...jagged. Burnt.”

“Old,” Rosa laughs quietly.

“Yeah, old. And you're a baby.”

They keep holding hands as the countdown starts, and the parking lot fills with people shouting along. At zero, Rosa leans in to press a kiss to Alex's forehead, then she wraps her arms around him as he flinches hard at the first cracks of the fireworks. He loses himself for a moment, gunshots and cries echoing in his head, but he never stops feeling her embrace.

It gets easier, progressively. He opens his eyes again, and he only sees the parking lot, and Liz and Maria looking for them among the crowd.

“You with me?” Rosa asks.

Alex nods and swallows. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, mijo. Anytime.”

Alex lays his head on Rosa's shoulder. “Happy New Year,” he murmurs.

“2020,” Rosa whispers. “What a concept.”

Alex laughs.

-

I couldn't resist the Russian Doll reference! :D I hope you liked it, I would love to hear your thoughts.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

More Time - Chpt.6

Summary:  The guys finally make time for a date night after their first week back to work. Master list can be found HERE.

Warnings/ Content: More fluff! And a truly adorable tiny tipsy Steve. 

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Oh boy, lovelies... it’s time we get our first peek at Emma! I’m so excited for what’s to come now that she’s arrived in their lives. Terribly sorry this is going up two hours later than usual. I got lost for the past few hours working on a reader x non-binary Bucky fic. I’ll probably never post it but omg I’m having so much fun writing it. Hope everyone is having a good weekend so far! XOXO  - Ash

Chapter Six

Friday was their first day off after working three days in a row. It felt luxurious to sleep in together and take their time planning a grocery trip over morning coffee and omelets. 

“Let’s go out and celebrate tonight.” Bucky suggested on their way back from the store. They had passed by the local bar countless times but had never bothered stopping in. Neither of them had ever really been drinkers and Steve had absolutely no tolerance for it anymore. Bucky found it endearing how after decades of not being able to get drunk Steve would flush from head to toe and giggle over everything after a single glass of wine. 

“We always say we’re gonna go. Might as well try it out.” Steve agreed with a shrug. 

After a long day of doing absolutely nothing, Bucky reminded Steve of their date night and took over the bathroom for what felt like an eon to get ready. 

“Come on!” Steve called as he flopped down on the bed. He had been ready to go for twenty minutes and couldn’t understand what on earth Bucky could still be doing in there. He’d gotten ready when he heard the shower turn off and he hadn’t been quick about it. Steve had paired his standard khakis with his nicest blue cashmere sweater. The one that Bucky said made his eyes glow impossibly blue. It had been a Christmas gift from Pepper and he loved how soft it was. 

Bucky emerged a few minutes later and the sight of him had Steve’s mouth going dry. Bucky had picked out a charcoal button up shirt and black skinny jeans that did unspeakable things for his thick thighs. His hair fell in soft waves to his shoulders, the top half pulled up in a small bun at the back of his head, and he had trimmed his beard so it was little more than dark scruff again. Steve couldn’t wait to feel it scraping across his skin and wondered how much of him would be covered in beard burn the following day. “You okay there, Rogers?” Bucky asked with a wicked smile. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Steve swallowed and nodded. “Just peachy.” He said through a tight throat.

“You still want to go out or would you rather stay in?” Buck sauntered over to where Steve had sat up on the edge of the bed. 

Steve looked up at Bucky, fighting for control over his raging hormones. “You look too good to be at home on a Friday night.” He told him honestly. “I wanna take you out and show you off a little.” 

Bucky preened at Steve’s words, “I don’t know, I think you’ll be the one getting shown off. I love that sweater on you. You look like every good dream I’ve ever had come to life.” 

“Mm. Smooth talker.” Steve all but purred as Bucky leaned down to kiss him. 

It was with great difficulty they pulled themselves apart to head down the block for dinner but they managed after several whispered promises of ‘later’. 

Matty’s Bar was sweltering inside despite the frigid February weather. They shucked their coats and gloves off as soon as they found two open seats on the far side of the bar where it was quieter. Bucky couldn’t help his smile watching Steve clear the fog from his glasses and struggle up onto the tall barstool. It was so much like their dance hall nights in the ‘30s that his heart ached with fondness. The bar wasn’t overly crowded, most people staying home because of the cold, but it was still a Friday night in the city. They looked around admiring the old school dive bar ambiance with framed pictures on every wall, the obligatory mirrored wall behind the bar, and the dark wood surfaces everywhere. It was inviting in its simplicity; the kind of place you could come to alone and still feel like you were a part of something. Steve wished they had ventured in sooner and Bucky had to agree. The menu was basic but they didn’t need anything fancy. Hell, everything was fancy in the twenty first century compared to what they’d had back in The Great Depression. 

The bartender was busy but made time to smile down at them and hold up a finger signaling she’d be another minute. Bucky’s gaze lingered on her and Steve took a second glance to see what had caught Bucky’s eye. He watched as the bartender hurried down to their end of the bar, a bright smile on her face as she greeted them and set out napkins for drinks. It was obvious what had caught Bucky’s attention because she had captured Steve’s too. The woman looked like she was in her mid to late twenties and was a good inch or two shorter than Steve with hair so long it swayed in a thick auburn column all the way down to the small of her back despite being pulled up in a ponytail. Her full lips were pulled into a wide smile and her hazel eyes shone honey brown and moss green in the bar’s lowlight. It was difficult to see because of the bar but Steve appreciated the rounded curves of what he could see of her body. He wished he could draw her, so perfectly feminine and beautiful. He would make her a goddess reclining in the sea, nymphs floating above her, a modern day Birth of Venus. 

Thankfully Bucky was paying attention while Steve daydreamed. He ordered them each a Makers Mark on the rocks which the bartender had in front of them in a blink. “You ready to pick your jaw up off the floor?” Bucky whispered quietly into Steve’s good ear. 

“Shut up, jerk. I saw you making eyes at her too.” Steve replied just as quietly.

Bucky made a scoffing noise, “You’d have to blind not to make eyes at her.” 

“I’ll drink to that.” Steve clinked his glass against Bucky’s and the two men chuckled at their foolishness. It had been a lifetime since they had admired a pretty dame together and even longer still since they had taken one home together. 

They ordered a few plates to share when their drinks were finished and Steve was regretting drinking before eating. Bucky ordered another whiskey while Steve sensibly stuck to water for a bit until he could get some food in him. Bucky’s version of the serum didn’t make him completely immune to the effects of alcohol but it would take significantly more than the average person and even then he only got a pleasant buzz. 

The bartender, who’s name they learned was Emma, gave Steve a sympathetic look when she handed him his water and promised their food was coming up soon. Bucky watched her as she moved back down to the opposite end of the bar to help other patrons and Steve kicked him lightly. “You know, it’s not nice to be so smitten with someone other than your date.” He joked lightly. 

Bucky gave him a long, exasperated look, “You know I love you, punk. ‘Til the end of the line.”

Steve smirked and leaned over so he could rest his head against Bucky’s shoulder. He was blissfully happy to be able to take Bucky out on a real date without the fear of being beaten or jailed. It had taken some time after waking up from the ice to fully understand how much easier queer folk had it in the twenty first century and years later it still made him overjoyed. Being himself wasn’t a death sentence anymore. The world wasn’t perfect and there would always be homophobic people but it was nothing compared to the widespread hatred and fear they’d hidden from in the ‘30s and ‘40s. Back then, any time they had wanted to go out on a date they had to find a pair of girls to take along to be their “real” dates. It was always awkward and disappointing for all parties involved.

“What’cha thinkin’ about, Stevie? You’re awfully quiet.” Bucky asked pressing a kiss into Steve’s hair. 

“We have it so good, Buck.” Steve told him, still buzzed from the bourbon, “I never dreamed we’d have it this good.” 

“You and me both. But here we are.” Bucky tried not to dwell on the time he was with HYDRA and after he’d escaped when he truly believed he was nothing more than a weapon. The idea that he would be not just alive but thriving and in love would have been beyond anything he could have dreamed up back then. 

Emma swung down with their plates interrupting their suddenly maudlin moment. They tucked into the food and people watched as the crowd thinned out while a storm picked up outside. It was down to them and two other bar-flies by the time they finished their meal and were nursing another round of drinks. Steve felt like someone had loosened his bones as the bourbon hit his system again. His metabolism was shit and while he normally hated that, it was kind of nice to feel the warm buzz of alcohol again after so many years of not. 

“It’s getting bad out there.” Emma commented when she stopped by to check on them. “You guys live close by?” 

Bucky nodded, “Right down the block. We’re not afraid of a little snow though.” 

“Oh good. The city takes forever doing the sidewalks and it can be rough going.” 

“It’s sweet of you to worry, doll.” Bucky flashed her the grin Steve had seen melt even the hardest hearted old nuns at St. Agnes back in the day. Steve swooned a little just being in proximity to it. 

“Doll?” Emma snorted in amusement, seemingly immune to his charm. 

“Shit, sorry, I know that’s not polite anymore. I meant no disrespect.”

“What are you, eighty years old?” 

“Try a hundred and seven.” Steve giggled before he could stop himself. 

Bucky looked over, wide eyed at Steve who had not only outed their identities but honest to god giggled. Emma chuckled but was assessing them, wondering what the joke was. Bucky pulled the sleeve up a little on his left arm, exposing more of the shining dark metal, the gold accents catching in the light. 

“Oh.” Emma murmured. There was no mistaking that arm. “Wow.” She failed for words again. “But you’re…” she looked at Steve, recognizing him from the history books but not understanding how he was at least a foot shorter than when she’d seen him on TV a year ago. 

Steve watched her confusion with amusement. He hadn’t been recognized since the incident and he was too tipsy to care. “Shhh.” He held a finger up to his lips conspiratorially. “Bruce made a whoops and I went weeee” Steve made a shrinking motion with his forefinger and thumb causing Bucky to lay his head down on the bar in embarrassment.

“Wow.” Emma repeated, unsure of what to say to that. 

Bucky lifted his head, ready to get his inebriated partner home and tucked into bed. “Sorry, someone doesn’t know how to hold his liquor anymore.”

“It’s okay,” Emma assured him, “I’m a total lightweight too. I can cash you guys out if you want.” 

“Yeah, that would be great. And if you could just not, ya know…” Bucky hated having to ask for her silence but the last thing they needed was the world knowing what had happened to Steve.

“Oh!” Emma exclaimed, knowing exactly where he was going. “No, of course not. You guys deserve your privacy just like anyone else.” 

Bucky was relieved, sensing the honesty in her voice. “Thank you. Not everyone feels that way.” 

Emma nodded sympathetically and handed him their check. Bucky made sure he left a more than generous tip before helping Steve into his coat. “Come on, big guy. We gotta get you home to bed.” He told him placatingly. 

“Mmm. I like our bed.” Steve mused. 

Bucky slung an arm around Steve’s narrow shoulders and steered him towards the door. “Come on pal, keep it moving or I’ll pick you up and carry you, like it or not.” 

Steve giggled and waved over-enthusiastically at Emma who bit back a laugh and waved goodbye to him. 

Back in the safety of their apartment Bucky helped Steve undress and practically poured him into bed.

“Hey Buck.” Steve said in a too loud whisper, “It’s later. Remember? Later…”  He wasn’t any closer to sober but Steve Rogers had always been a feisty little shit and some things never changed. 

Bucky was tempted, he always was by Steve, but he wasn’t about to start something up when Steve would most likely be asleep within minutes. Bucky grasped the hand that was busy exploring and held it close to his chest. “I know, but it’ll be later later too and right now you need sleep.” 

“Aww Buck no.” Steve whined. 

“Come ’ere and I’ll even let you be the little spoon.” 

Steve rolled over in a whirlwind of blankets and blonde hair, scooting back so Bucky could wrap himself around him. “I love the little spoon.” He said sleepily. 

“I know, pal. Get some rest.” Bucky buried his nose in Steve’s hair and listened to the sound of Steve’s breathing evening out as he drifted off to sleep.

Tag list lovelies: @godofplumsandthunder​ @remilupin22​ @supraveng​ @hiddles-rose​

If anyone wants added or removed please lmk!

[bkdk-n-tasty]

The hardest enemy to defeat is your own self-doubt

Look at that you guys, I made it all week with a finished piece! I’m so proud lol

Day 5: This day has no prompts, therefore you are free to do whatever you like!

With Pride month being last month and I meant to make this then, I figured I could do it for this prompt ♥ 

Please note that there is homophobic langue in this story, some internalized homophobia as well. If you’re triggered by that I suggest skipping this one. 

Katsuki let out a huff as he watched the people in his living room move about as if they owned the place, he had half a mind to tell him to get out but he'd let them in, to begin with. His mood calmed a bit as Izuku shot him a grin, he looked fucking cute as hell. But that fucking dweeb always looked cute as hell in Katsuki's opinion. Izuku wore an actually kinda funny shirt for once instead of one of his stupid shirts, though it was mostly due to the fact he only had a small say in his outfit, though he did agree to wear it. Izuku wore a light gray shirt that read "It Ain't No Lie Baby I'm Bi Bi Bi", the letters a gradient of the bi pride colors and to top it off with some sweet talking from Katsuki he got Izuku to wear a pair of cute short shorts that showed off Izuku's fantastic legs.

Katsuki sighed quieter to himself as he closed the distance between him and Izuku. He felt kinda shy which was a fucking weird-ass emotion to feel when he was never shy. But this was the first time he was actually going out in public flaunting the fact he was gay, it wasn't a secret he was dating Izuku. The bombshell blond wore a dark gray V-neck that read "I can't even think straight", though he kept his normal back baggy jeans.

"You look good," Katsuki muttered as he got to Izuku. Izuku beamed up at Katsuki with that fucking cute smile that made Katsuki want to do just about anything for the younger boy.

"You do too, Kacchan," Izuku chirped as he held up the markers everyone was sharing to color their pride flags on their cheeks. "You ready for your face painting?" Katsuki tsk-ed but he nodded, tilting his head to the side to let the smaller boy streak the colors on his cheeks. In return, he did the same for Izuku. The two glanced back at their friends, it was a beautiful chaos.

Denki and Eijiro were helping each other, Denki was decked out with a bright blue tank top that if it wasn't catchy Katsuki wouldn't have paid much attention but he even snorted as he read "I'm Bisexual so I'm nervous around everyone" with a shy carebear graphic under it. Denki's cheeks wore the same colors as Izuku's. Eiji was just as eye-catching as his boyfriend as he wore a black chest binder with a pan pride unicorn with bright red skinny jeans, that Katsuki swore he'd seen in Izuku's closet at one point in time.

Then there was Momo and Jiro with Todoroki, helping him with his cheeks. Momo wore less flashy colors but had her cute bi and poly pins on her shirt, while Jiro wore an outfit almost identical to her normal outfit but instead of her normal black jeans she wore a skirt that bore the trans colors. Katsuki had honestly been caught off guard by that, he never imagined that she was trans but like the rest of their friends supported her nonetheless.

Iida was sitting patiently with his girlfriend and her girlfriend marking his cheeks with the demi-sexual flag. But Uraraka and Tsuyu both looked pretty proud with their handy work. Uraraka wore a relatively cute pale pink tanktop that said 'multitasking' with two female and one male stick figure above it. Tsuyu had chosen to wear a similar outfit that she normally wears, though it was a matching pale pink shirt that read in a dark violet 'I love my girlfriend'.

The only pair that was missing was Sero and Mina and the two planned to just meet them there. Which honestly Katsuki was grateful as his home felt like it was crowded as is. It took a while longer for the rest to finish up in the meanwhile Izuku had managed to pull Katsuki away so he could steal some kisses before they headed out.

"We're going to have so much fun," Izuku beamed excitedly, glancing between Katsuki and the rest of their friends. Katsuki tried to ignore his nerves as he listened to the others chat, his gaze stuck low and didn't meet people they passed. It was strange to Katsuki to be so open about his sexuality, it wasn't like he should feel ashamed or anything, he'd had supportive parents who both loved Izuku to bits and pieces. It was just something he tried to ignore.

"You okay?" Izuku asked quietly, jerking Katsuki's attention from his thoughts. He glanced down at the worried expression on his normally outgoing boyfriend.

"I'm fine," Katsuki huffed out but after a moment he said quieter for only Izuku to hear, "I guess I'm a little fucking worried…I don't know, it's stupid."

Izuku shook his head and carefully pulled Katsuki over so their friends could keep walking. "If you're nervous it's not stupid. What are you nervous about?" Izuku had managed to grasp Katsuki's other hand and with those damn eyes, Katsuki couldn't just lie and say it was nothing, that there wasn't anything he was worried about.

"I…I don't know," Katsuki finally admitted, his gaze flickering towards their friends who all were so damn supportive and loving. He really didn't have it bad so why was he so worried? The harsh words he remembered in junior high…They were the ones that rung out in the back of his mind, it wasn't anything he had said but other bullies had…and those words had been pointed at Izuku a lot. He finally looked back at Izuku, "I just want you to know I'm sorry. For the things in middle school. That I couldn't even leave you alone, or at the very least keep the others from picking on you…"

Izuku's smile faltered for a moment but he squeezed Katsuki's hands. "You've been forgiven Kacchan, you know that. Things were different then, we've come so far since then," Izuku smiled gently up at him. "You denied yourself to a lot of things at that point, but you don't have to worry about today. I'm with you. The real you, the one that makes me happy and feels loved, the one that protects me when I do dumb things to try and help others. The one that drags me to bed when I'm trying to run myself into the ground." Izuku was breathless after his word vomit but he meant every word of it and Katsuki knew that. "I love you Katsuki."

The angst-filled blonde finally nodded after a moment, a small smile broke across his lips. "You really do love me, huh?" That made Izuku snort but he kept that loving smile on his lips.

"Of course I love you." It was so obvious in everything Izuku did when it came to Katsuki, everyone could see that. With that Katsuki's smile grew and his body seemed to relax.

"I love you too, you nerd," Katsuki murmured, his cheeks heating up. He could handle holding hands in public but saying 'I love you' apparently got him flustered, and it was cute in Izuku's opinion. With that, they joined their friends and headed towards where Mina and Sero had gotten them a good spot to watch the parade. Katsuki really did relax with his friends once the parade started, watching all those people proudly strut their stuff made him feel really good. He even was able to build up the courage to kiss Izuku in public, in front of their friends and strangers. No one even thought twice about it or cared and that felt so good.

"I love you," Katsuki murmured against Izuku's lips before stealing a second kiss. Izuku had melted into the kiss and only after a few moments was able to pull himself away, but he didn't try and move away from Katsuki's embrace. No instead Izuku relaxed and leaned into Katsuki's chest as he watched the parade.

"We need to check out the seller's booth," Mina announced brightly when the parade had wrapped up. Izuku pulled Katsuki along as they headed towards the area that had been set up for people to sell homemade merchandise. The group was able to find a bunch of things they liked and bought, glad to help local artists. Izuku ended up with the most buttons rivaling Denki's, the two looked like kids with all the buttons.

Denki and Jirou lead the group towards the block that had been closed off so they could set up a dance area and pump out music that left even Katsuki wanting to dance. It was obvious in moments who the DJ was, Mic wouldn't pass up an event like this. And anyway, he was the best so of course, he wanted his community to have the most fun they could get.

Izuku and Katsuki were both laughing and clinging to one another. They honestly had the most fun they had in a long time on a date. Katsuki even admitting that Izuku was right, that he would have fun, that there really wasn't anything to worry about.

That was until they were leaving. The group was going to head back to Bakugou's to unwind and watch a few movies before dispersing for the night…Katsuki gritted his teeth as he saw the group at the edge of the fenced area.

Izuku stopped, throwing his arm out in front of his friends. "We are not going that way," Katsuki growled as he caught the red letterings on the signs, the ones that left him wanting to fight them all.

"What's up?" Eijiro asked, squinting ahead. As the redhead caught sight of the words on those ugly signs his smile dropped. "Are they…Are they serious?"

Iida squared his shoulders as he moved forward as if he would lead them past the hateful group of people. "They might be allowed to spew their ugly words but they are not allowed to touch us. We just need to pass them and ignore them," Iida said, looking over the group.

"It's easier said than done," Jirou frowned, leaning against Momo. It was strange to Katsuki to see Jirou who rarely showed fear to look as nervous as Katsuki felt.

"We have the numbers on our side," Izuku said, squeezing Katsuki's hand protectively. "And we all got strong quirks if they even do try something. We can defend ourselves."

After some debate going back and forth they eventually headed towards the exit. They wanted to go back and rest, the hate group couldn't physically touch them and that was what they kept telling each other. But it was hard to ignore their shouting and protesting.

Katsuki could feel his rage boiling in his blood as they got closer and closer to the loudest member, he had to be the leader. "You all are doomed to hell if you don't repent!" The blonde shot the man a glare that normally was reserved for villains and that seemed to only add fuel to the man's words. "You are going to hell!" He even pointed right at Katsuki with his free hand. That made Katsuki almost lose his shit but instead, he smirked at the man, pulling Izuku to him before dipping him and giving him a kiss in front of the group.

"You're only a jealous old man," Katsuki yelled back at the leader, "You're fuckin' jealous my boyfriend loves me and you're in a loveless marriage!" Katsuki's friends were quick to start to drag him away. They all knew once he was really angry that there would be some really ugly words passed back and forth.

"It's fine Kacchan," Izuku murmured softly up to Katsuki once they were far enough that they were less worried that Katsuki might start setting off explosions. "We'll go home and just cuddle and watch those dumb cheesy movies," Izuku continued softly, trying to calm the older man. Instead of the group hanging around their friends went home so they could just spend time together.

Once Izuku and Katsuki were home, the two managed to drag every single blanket they owned to the living room where they could build a nest of sorts on their couch. They were comfy under their blankets when Katsuki finally broke down, his face buried in Izuku's shoulder.

It was a rare moment when Katsuki broke down when he cried. Though it was only ever just Izuku that witnessed it, who Katsuki trusted not to make fun of him. To support him and help him feel better. Izuku rubbed at Katsuki's back, murmuring soft and loving words. It wasn't long before the blond exhausted himself, laying his head on Izuku's chest with the blanket pulled up over his head, just enough was uncovered that Izuku could see the red puffiness around his eyes.

"We had fun overall, right?" Izuku softly asked, rubbing the older boy's back gently.

Katsuki nodded as he yawned. "Up till we had to pass those fuckers," Katsuki grumbled.

"You did really good though," Izuku said, "I thought for sure you were going to end up punching that guy's face."

"I thought about it," Katsuki admitted, "But I thought the kiss would do more damage to his kind."

Izuku chuckled softly, "Probably. That was a really good kiss by the way. I wouldn't mind you kissing me like that more while we're on dates."

Katsuki looked up at Izuku with that smirk of his. "I bet you would, you gotta earn those kinds," Katsuki teased. Izuku seemed to relax then, seeing Katsuki return to his normal snarky attitude.

"I might have to do more than," Izuku giggled, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's forehead. "I love you so much Katsuki," He murmured softly, "I love you more than anyone else in this world."

"I love you too," Katsuki mumbled.

"What?"

"You're a nerd!" Katsuki said louder as his cheeks flushed a dark red. That left Izuku giggling and pressing all the kisses he could over his lover's face.

[thefangirlingdead]

Prompt!! Dave (in modern time) not being used to affection in public bc obvs with his original time period. He eventually adjusts, but somebody makes a homophobic remark towards him and Klaus that sends him into a panic. Cue protective Klaus.

OH SHIT. I AM ALL ABOUT THIS. 

Here’s something that I intended to be a little Drabble but ended up being much longer. Let’s just say for the sake of this lil’ ficlet that the apocalypse never happened and Klaus has a little bit more control over his powers after his time in Vietnam. (also I wrote this while kind of day drunk on a Friday afternoon SO DON’T CRITIQUE IT TOO HARD)

“It’s a little different than the disco, huh?” Klaus asks, glancing back in Dave’s direction with a sly, wicked little grin. He’s pulling him by the hand through the vibrant, loud club, his voice barely audible over the thumping of the bass-heavy music, but the glint in his eyes accented in the neon lights.

Dave had been the one to suggest going out a few weeks ago, but Klaus knew that he didn’t anticipate this when he asked to see the types of clubs that Klaus frequented. And to think, this one is a little more tame than some of his other regular stomping grounds. This club in particular is actually rather small, the majority of the room taken up by a spacious dance floor and long bar that stretches from one end to the other. There’s a small balcony that overlooks the crowd, but Klaus rarely hangs up there. No, he’d rather be on the dance floor, letting loose, losing himself in the music, dancing with someone special. Someone like -

Dave. Dave, who pauses as Klaus drags him through the club, hesitating long enough that is catches Klaus’ attention and causes him to turn, shooting him a concerned gaze, head cocked just slightly to the side.

“You good?” he asks, just to make sure. Sometimes, the loud noises are rough. Sometimes, crowds can be too much. Even a few months past Vietnam, even a few months since Klaus brought Dave back to 2019, there are still some scars that run too deep, some battle wounds that still need healing. He gets it, because he feels them too.

So when Dave pauses, pulling Klaus’ arm taut, Klaus is quick to check in with him, to make sure he’s okay.

“Yeah,” Dave assures with a nod, but Klaus doesn’t miss that it seems like he’s trying to convince himself. “Yeah I’m good, I just - I’m not used to… this.” Dave motions between himself and Klaus, then, at the junction of their hands, and Klaus quickly understands. In return, he offers Dave a gentle smile, taking a few steps toward him to close the gap between their bodies and get close enough to speak over the thumping music.

“Hey…” he murmurs gently, and for a split second, they’re the only two people in the club. Dave is the only person who matters, and Klaus is determined to make him feel comfortable. Sure, Klaus wants to share this part of his life with Dave, but he also wants to make sure Dave has fun. If he isn’t enjoying this, they can leave. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he assures, “If you’d rather go somewhere else, do something a little more low-key, that’s cool too.”

“No,” Dave insists with a shake of his head, offering Klaus a tight, reassuring smile, even as Klaus laces their fingers together, one hand reaching up to brush a stray curl from his forehead. “No, I want to - I mean, you wanted to come here and -”

“And it doesn’t matter what I want,” Klaus insists, “We’re not staying here if you’re not comfortable.”

Dave swallows, but he doesn’t balk away from Klaus’ intimate touch, nor his searching eyes. “No I’m - it’s just… an adjustment, is all,” he says at last, “I know you keep saying things are different now, but it’s just hard to believe sometimes, you know?”

“I know,” Klaus agrees. His hand drifts, thumb brushing Dave’s cheek, fingers tickling the short hairs at the back of his neck. “And I know I seem to have a pretty blasé attitude about everything, but I promise, we’re safe here.”

Then, with a smirk, Klaus adds, “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen people practically fucking on this dance floor before. We’ll be okay. I promise.”

And finally, Dave cracks a smile, rolling his eyes at Klaus’ words. “Well, I’m not trying to -”

“Hey, how about we just see where the night takes us…” Klaus teases with a wink. “Do you want to get a drink?”

And that’s how Klaus and Dave end up about three drinks deep, dancing close together among a swirling mass of bodies on the dance floor to some song that Klaus loves and Dave has certainly never heard before. It takes a little bit for him to fully come out of his shell, but once he does, he seems like he’s in his element, hands on Klaus’ hips, lips just brushing his on the dance floor. That’s how Klaus ends up winding his arms around Dave’s shoulders, leaning forward to press a passionate kiss to his lips and that’s how, ten minutes later, Klaus ends up pressed against the wall in the hallway near the bathrooms, arms pinned above his head, Dave hard against him, uncaring of whoever might see.

“Now that’s more like it,” Klaus murmurs in between kisses, a smirk spread across his face before their lips crash together again and god, when he first met Dave, the sweet little momma’s boy, the same man who actually asked before kissing him for the first time, he never thought he’d find himself here, pinned up against the wall of a club, getting the life kissed out of him.  But here they are, Dave easily pressing both of his wrists together against the wall with one hand, the other sturdy on his chest, Klaus struggling to keep his composure, struggling not to drag Dave into the bathroom and have his way with him.

They’ve come a long way since they first met, since they first realized that the feeling was mutual, and Klaus wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s already a miracle that Dave agreed to take the leap and come here with him, that they managed to survive this long, so Klaus can’t help the way he kisses Dave back as if he’ll disappear any second, as if he’s surprised that he’s still holding onto him, forgetting the world around them for a few moments and just focusing on Dave.

So it’s no surprise that Klaus doesn’t notice the group of men approaching them, that he doesn’t register their jeers and hateful slurs until they’re a little too close for comfort. And then, just as fast as he’s there, Dave is gone. With his attention focused on Dave - his lips, his hands, his body - Klaus doesn’t notice when some stranger purposefully shoulder-checks him as they come out of the bathroom. He doesn’t notice until they’re shoving Dave backwards and Klaus hears the end of some insult hurled at him -

“…fucking faggot.”

“Sorry -” Dave starts to mutter, but not before Klaus is moving, acting on instinct, his emotions taking over.

Klaus takes a step in front of Dave, putting his arm out as if to stop him from moving. “No, don’t be sorry,” he bites, loud enough for the stranger to hear him over the loud thumping of the club’s music, “This asshole should be sorry!”

And the stranger, the guy who Klaus didn’t even see because he’d been too busy kissing Dave, turns on his heel, eyes narrowed in Klaus’ direction, a smirk spread across his ugly fucking face.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

The man (and his two friends) steps forward, but just as he does, Klaus moves on instinct, acting before he thinks. He reaches a hand out, clenching it into a fist and the stranger freezes in place.

“I said,” Klaus growls, “That you should be sorry.”

The man’s expression quickly changes from anger to horror, his features transforming in the blink of an eye. And while Klaus despises using his powers like this - he only did it once or twice in Vietnam and it was awful - he doesn’t even hesitate when it comes to Dave.

“What are you doing to me, you freak?” The stranger cries, his voice terrified, strained. He tries to move, but Klaus keep him in place.

“You might want to watch what you’re saying,” Klaus mutters, voice barely audible over the sound of the music, but he knows that the man hears him. He knows, and with a slight flick of his wrist, the stranger is falling to his knees, unable to control his own body.

And god, Klaus hates his powers sometimes, but right now, it feels right. It feels just. Because shit, it’s 2019, and this idiot shouldn’t be talking to him and Dave like that, because this asshole deserves to learn a lesson.

But then, Dave’s voice is cutting through the noise in Klaus’ head, and the moment is broken.

“Klaus…” Dave sounds worried, he sounds upset, and the sound of his name on his lover’s lips breaks his concentration, it has his concentration breaking and the stranger scrambling to his feet and scurrying away without another word.

It isn’t until he’s gone that Klaus registers the gentle hand on his arm, the soft voice in his ear. “Klaus, I’m right here, come back to me -”

And Klaus shakes himself out of it, coming back down into his body, back to earth.

“Fuck,” Klaus mutters, shaking his head before he turns back to Dave, “Sorry, I just got carried away and -”

He stops speaking, however, when he spies the wide-eyed look on Dave’s face, just on the verge of panic, and -

“Oh shit,” Klaus gasps, reaching forward to touch Dave gently, pulling him close. He knows that look, because he’s seen it on himself before, has seen it in the mirror, just on the verge of a breakdown, and god, he hates seeing it on Dave, but he’s not surprised.

Without thinking, Klaus grabs Dave by the arm and pulls, dragging him into the nearby bathroom, away from the gaze of onlookers and away from the loud music pulsing throughout the club. And shit, Klaus doesn’t have any excperience in dealing with something like this - hell, he’s not even quite sure how to deal with it on his own - but he assumes that Dave needs a quiet space, that he doesn’t need to chaos of the club or the audience of strangers. If it were Klaus, he’d want quiet, so he tries to find that for Dave, secluded in the bathroom, alone, even if just for a few moments.

Whenever Klaus has dealt with the panic that he currently sees in Dave’s eyes himself, he’s only ever seen it in the mirror, staring right back at him. He’s never seen it on someone else, and honestly, it’s kind of terrifying. He doesn’t know what to do, but he tries to stay level headed for Dave.

He doesn’t know quite how to comfort someone, so Klaus lets them both slump to the ground, his hands hovering just over Dave’s arms, unsure of what to do. When he reaches out to touch, though, Dave jerks back, as if Klaus’ touch burns, and Klaus suddenly understands. Or, well, he thinks he does.

“Shit. Shit, shit,” Klaus mutters, backing up slightly where he’s crouched on the ground, hands raised in a placating gesture, as if to say he means no harm, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, back there. I just - they can’t just talk to you like that and -”

“No,” Dave croaks out at last, shaking his head. His voice is breathless, barely there, just on the verge of a panic attack, but it sounds like a scream to Klaus’ ears. He reaches forward, gripping Klaus’ wrist before he can pull away fully, stopping him in place, “No, Klaus. That’s not it. I just - it reminded me of back… before we met, I was out with a guy once and - I - we -”

Oh. Oh.

“Ooooh. Shit,” Klaus mutters, sitting back on his heels at the realization of what Dave’s words imply.

He’s been through this before. He thought he was safe, and the same fucking thing happened.

Klaus isn’t dense. He knows what Dave means, and it’s insane, seeing someone like Dave, such a strong person, such an adept fighter, a fucking soldier reduced to this because of some shitty, homophobic comments from some stranger, because of something that happened to him in the past. Because of that fucking world, and close-minded assholes and the 60’s… and shit, Klaus had been the one to convince him that he was safe here, and look what happened.

“Fuck,” Klaus mutters again, “I’m sorry, Dave. I shouldn’t have pushed you into this, I -”

But Dave is quick to interrupt Klaus before he can finish his thought. “No,” he repeats, “It’s not you. Shit, Klaus, it’s not you. It’s just… a lot, is all. I know things are different now, but it’s still hard, hearing that and -”

And Klaus doesn’t let Dave finish before he’s pulling him close, embracing Dave on the floor in some shitty club bathroom, and fuck anyone who can see them like this, open and vulnerable and helplessly in love.

[lingenthusiast]

Our Bubble

Sabato - 23 Marzo 2019 - ore 04:36

It was 4am or probably way past that but it didn’t really matter. The night had been good, great even. It was a night full of drinking and dancing, two of their most favourite things. As the night came to an end the music got worse though, almost boring even and they were getting tired so they decided it was time to go home.

If you ever went out with a big group though, you know how much time it takes to say goodbye to everyone and to gather the people together who wanted to leave with you.

The third time Nico disappeared to say goodbye to yet another person, Filippo and Elia simply left the club and went to wait outside where they could smoke. Giovanni had gone with them but they lost him again somewhere in the crowd. Holy shit, this was exhausting. Now, they were standing outside of the club, just the two of them, waiting for the others.

— We should just leave — Filippo said, patting down his pockets for his cigarettes. Elia lit one of his, handed it to Filippo and lit another one for himself.

— No, we shouldn't. We are good friends, so we'll wait for them. — He stepped closer to Filippo, so close that their whole bodies were touching, seeking his warmth in the cold of the night.  

— You're too good for this world, Filippo commented teasingly but didn't complain any further about having to wait.

all the love to @loving-nicotino! thank you for all your help with this <3

— Oh shit it's cold! — They suddenly hear Luca's voice from a few metres away, a voice that Elia could make out in hundreds of voices.

— Geez, Luchino, where's your jacket?

— I don't know, bro. I've been looking for it but I can't find it. — Luca said, approaching them visibly shivering. Elia laughed and hid his face against Filippo's chest.

— Damn, Fili, I can't help him. I tried everything but this kid is just a lost cause — Filippo chuckled quietly, took a drag from his cigarette and placed his free hand on Elia's back.

— You can't help all of them, you know? — He whispered in Elia's ear, causing Elia to laugh out loud.

Luca looked at them, upset, clearly about to say something in his defence but Elia didn't get to hear it.

— This is so disgusting — a hushed voice next to them suddenly said.

Elia flinched, his head snapping in the direction where the voice came from. He wasn’t entirely sure whether the statement was actually about Filippo and him.

— Come on, Daniele, leave it — a girl said to a guy who was looking disdainfully directly at Elia. She tried to turn him away from them.

So it had been about them. Elia freezes.

Filippo obviously hadn’t heard anything as he was still laughing at Luchino but Elia’s reaction made him look up. Elia didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t able to look away from this guy, he wasn’t able to say or do anything other than letting go of Filippo. He took a step back.

— You okay? — Filippo frowned and gripped Elia’s forearms that had been wrapped around his waist only seconds ago.

— I just don’t want to see it — The other guy said to his friends — They can be all gay and shit at home, in their bedroom, I don’t care, but nobody wants to see it.

This time, Filippo heard it as well. He face darkened and he turned, never letting go of Elia though.

— Then don’t look at them, look at me — the girl said and got onto her tiptoes to kiss him, obviously trying to distract her boyfriend. Their other friends were silent, some of them embarrassed, others just unfazed, but all of them were blatantly staring in any direction other than at Elia and Filippo, not saying anything.

— I can’t look anywhere else when they are just shoving it in my face — the guy went on. He was probably drunk - not that it was an excuse but it certainly didn’t do the situation any good either.

We didn’t even kiss. Elia thought, absolutely distressed.

— So what, you’re allowed to kiss your girlfriend in public but we’re not? — Filippo asked loudly. As soon as he spoke up, the group of friends started moving, walking away from them.

Luca only now understood what was happening, looking alarmed from one person to the other. — What did he say to you? — he asked Elia quietly but his question didn’t reach him, all eyes and ears on this one guy.

— Just leave it — One of the friends advised Filippo in a rather threatening tone, dragging Daniele along.

Elia just stood their, shaking. This time, it wasn’t because he was cold.

What had just happened?

— What did he say to you? — Luca asked again, watching the strangers go inside the bar.

— Nothing — Elia mumbled. Filippo turned to him.

— Fucking bastards! — He spit out, angrier than Elia has ever seen him before.

It was the first time that something like this happened to them. They had gotten weird stares, even disgusted stares before, but until now Elia had always laughed it off. He wasn’t even sure why but normally he just didn’t take it seriously. Filippo had once told him to concentrate on positivity, on his friends, on the people who accepted him and to think about how sad a life must be if you choose to hate love.

It was different now, though. Maybe because they were people of his age, maybe because it wasn’t in town, in the street, on the bus or on the metro - maybe it was different now because it was in front of a club where people were supposed to be celebrating happily, where people were supposed to have fun. Whatever it was, now he was genuinely bothered.

You knew this would happen eventually, he told himself, It’s shit, yes, but you knew homophobia is a thing. The problem was that no matter how sickening they were, it was still much easier to listen to the stories Filippo had told him than to experience it first hand. Nothing happened, Elia, calm down. They just said some fucked up stuff. Not even all of them, only one. You’re fine. Filippo is fine. Chill.

— Are you okay? — Filippo’s voice brought him out of his head, back into presence. Filippo had let go of Elia at some point but now, he reached out slowly as if he wanted to wait for Elia’s reaction first. When Elia didn’t move, he brushed some loose strands out of Elia’s face. They looked at each other and suddenly Filippo stepped forward and pulled Elia in a tight hug.

— Guys, I’m sorry, I would have said something if I had noticed earlier — Luca said guiltily.

— Don’t worry, Luchino — Elia responded in a small voice, so small that he wasn’t really sure if Luca has heard him.

For another moment, Elia didn’t really know what was happening. It was as if he was in shock, partly talking himself down and partly being angry at himself for not saying anything. For not sticking up for his relationship.

— I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier — Filippo whispered into his ear. Elia smiled sadly.

— It’s okay, Fili, nothing really happened. I just didn’t expect it.

When he drew back to look at Filippo again, suddenly something shifted. Filippo’s face was so angry that Elia’s eyes widened.

— That’s the fucking problem, isn’t it? — Filippo spit out, upset. Elia flinched back, not sure anymore whether Filippo’s anger was still directed at the overall situation or at him, all of a sudden. — You shouldn’t have to be expecting it. You shouldn’t have to be prepared for this shit — Okay, at least it actually wasn’t Elia, Filippo was mad about. — We were just standing here, laughing and everything was fucking fine until this bastard came along and said some stupid comment. Hiding behind his fucking friends. Fucking coward. He wasn’t even brave enough to speak to us. I hate this so much. He gets to just walk past and talk some shit about how he should not have to see us kiss in public. And we didn’t even kiss, did we? No we didn’t! We were just standing here. Doing nothing. Nothing! He was so angry, his eyes were filled with tears now.

— Fili — Elia tried to calm him — It sucks, I know. But we’re fine. Nothing happened. It was a stupid guy, absolutely hammered probably. His own girlfriend wasn’t okay with what he said.

— That’s what pisses me off the most. None of them were really okay with what their own fucking friend said, Eli, but none of them was able to open their fucking mouth and speak up against their friend. Filippo looked at Elia, upset, angry but most of all sad. Sad and tired. Elia cupped his face and forced him to properly look at him. Suddenly, there was silence. Silence all around them. Elia searched his face, not really sure what he was looking for.

— Sorry, I just had to talk to Sofi real quick — Giovanni hurriedly approached them — I’m… Are you okay? Being the mother hen he was, no matter how much alcohol was flowing through his veins, he picked up that something was wrong within mere seconds.

Elia looked at Filippo first, then at Luca and then back at Giovanni. — Yeah, Gio, it’s fine, don’t worry. — He placed his hand on Filippo’s lower back, who was still fuming on the inside but apparently chose to stay quiet. — We’re taking off now, okay? We’ve been waiting for ages and I think we better get going.

Gio looked at them, worrying. — What was going on out here? — he asked, all joy and happiness, that had shown on his face not even a minute ago, gone now.

— Some homophobic bastards — Elia said, not really in the mood to talk about it. He wanted to calm Filippo down even though he had know idea how. This was all new but it  was his number one priority right now, so Gio would have to wait for an explanation. — It’s fine though, nothing happened. I’ll talk to you later, okay?

Giovanni looked at him silently and then nodded. He had always known when to step back.

— Do you want us to go with you? —  He offered. Elia smiled but shook his head no.

They walked next to each other in silence. Elia felt the urge to take Filippo’s hand but he didn’t know whether he was allowed to. He only wanted to go home, he didn’t care to which one, his or Filippo’s, he just wanted to be somewhere he knew they were safe.

When they were walking along a little alley, having wordlessly agreed to avoid the main streets, Elia couldn’t resist any longer. He stepped into Filippo’s way, put his hands on his cheeks and kissed him. It was all sweet, reassuring, tender kisses at first but as soon as Filippo kissed back, dragging Elia closer by the hip, the kisses got firmer, more demanding, more longing, more desperate. Filippo drew back after a while, kissing Elia on the temple and hugged him so tight that it would hurt wouldn’t it be so comforting at the same time.

— Why are you not upset? — Filippo asked quietly.

— I am. I was, at least. They are just not worth it. That’s what you always told me. — Elia answered, his hand stroking up and down his boyfriend’s back.

— I know

Filippo knew that, he knew all of it, but that didn’t change anything about how he felt tonight. They stood there for a while in a tight embrace. Elia has lost track of time by now, but it didn’t matter anyway. What did matter was the nagging thought in his mind that has never been there before tonight: please, please don’t let anyone see us.

He tried to silence it by thinking about their friends, by thinking about the LGBTQ+ centre where Filippo was volunteering, a place that he loved so much because it basically radiated acceptance and calmness. He tried thinking about how happy the two of them normally were, how much fun they had and how positive they were about basically everything. He tried thinking about their relationship, their love, about sparkling eyes and easy smiles. It wasn’t easy now but the thought was helping at least a little.

They spent the rest of the way in silence, never letting go of each other’s hand. They walked closely next to each other, they sat closely next to each other on the bus and Elia was basically plastered to Filippo’s back when they climbed up the stairs to Filippo’s apartment. Physical proximity was just so comforting.

Elia noticed that Filippo calmed down eventually. He lost more and more of his tense, angry expression.

By the time they stood next to one another in front of the sink, Elia leaning against Filippo, both brushing their teeth, he felt as though all the fury was gone. What was left was frustration and a deep, deep sadness.

— I wanna live on an island. — Filippo suddenly broke their silence after cleaning out his mouth, still bent over the sink. On an island where everyone is lgbt. No, that’s not right. You don’t have to be lgbt. Just nice. On an island where everyone is nice. Imagine that. Only nice people. Only tolerance and love, no hate.

Elia only nodded, lost in thought.

A few minutes later, when they laid down in bed, it was like they were finally able to breathe again. They immediately moved as close together as somehow possible, their whole bodies touching, their legs intertwined until they themselves couldn’t tell anymore where one began and where the other one ended.

— You know we basically have that island, right? — Now Elia was the one to break the silence. — Look at our friends. Your friends, my friends… Everyone is nice.

— It's a bubble, Eli. It's a fucking bubble. — Filippo hid his face between Elia’s neck and shoulder and Elia couldn’t tell if there were tears in his eyes again, which drove him mad.

— Let's appreciate that we have this bubble then. Our bubble. You know best that not everyone has that.

— But I want everyone to have it! — Filippo said so forcefully that Elia had to smile. He kissed Filippo’s hair, the only part of the body he was able to reach with his mouth.

— I know, love, and I’m sorry but global peace is not something the two of us can achieve in one night.

Filippo let out a little chuckle. — That sucks, man.

They were silent again.

Eventually Elia felt Filippo’s breath even out, the fatigue weighing them both down.

— I know I should ignore them — Filippo then whispered — that’s what I’m telling everyone. Sometimes it’s just harder than others. It’s so fucking frustrating.

— I hated to see you so angry and so… yeah… so frustrated. I’ve never seen you like this before — Elia whispered back, drawing soothing patterns on Filippo’s back.

— That’s what upset me the most — Filippo sighed and turned his head so he could squint at Elia. — I should have been the one to calm you down, not the other way around.

— But you did! — Elia insisted. — And anyway, who says that? Why would that be? Because you’re older? More experienced at homophobia? Is that it? That’s bullshit, Fili

Filippo pulled him impossibly closer.

— I guess, I’m fine when I’m dealing with it by myself but I hated that they offended you as well.

Elia smiled a sad smile and stroked Filippo’s neck. — You don’t have to protect me.

— I know, but I want you safe. Safe and happy and laughing and telling horrible jokes

Elia’s smile changed from sad to fond fairly quickly.

— You make me happy, Fili. And no bigot can ever change that.

When Elia woke up the next morning, the sun was already shining into their window. It was nice, though, not too hot but warm enough to lie there without a blanket, which was good for Elia, because Filippo had stolen it somewhen throughout the night. Elia fully turned towards him and watch him for a few seconds. He looked peaceful in his sleep, almost childlike if it wasn’t for the piercing in his lip. The piercing… Elia grinned dreamily. He would love to kiss it now but he didn’t want to wake Filippo up. Not after what happened last night. Filippo deserved to sleep as long as he could.

Elia’s mood fell instantly at the thought of the situation outside of the club but he fought against it. As hard as it seemed, but they had to get used to it. As long as nobody got threatened or even hurt, they couldn’t let it get to them. Not for the sake of these bigots and bullies, but for the sake of themselves. They couldn’t let their nights be ruined by homophobic assholes, Elia wouldn’t allow that.

He also wouldn’t allow that they ruined their mornings, which are so precious to Elia. They already took their night, he wouldn’t let them have their morning as well. Mornings with Filippo were always so sweet, so soft, so slow, no matter how little time they actually had. It was the best way to start a day, full of love. It warmed Elia’s heart just thinking about it.

Somewhere next to the bed, his phone vibrated shortly, signalling an incoming message. He  he rolled over, careful not to disturb Filippo, and grabbed his phone which still was in the pocket of the jeans he has been wearing.

He smiled to himself when he saw the many messages that had come in since he had last checked.

Martino: (11:12) Love is stronger than hate, always remember that

Elia’s heart stuttered when he read Marti’s message. He stared at it, wondering since when Marti made use of such big words but he couldn’t bring himself to make fun of it because it was so lovely and it said it all, in one short sentence.

That was when he realised something: No matter, how hateful people were, they could never take this from them, they would never manage to take away their love, the only thing they achieved was that their love got stronger. And it did get stronger, Elia was sure of that because he would never forget all these little touches seeking for comfort on the bus, he would never forget the comfort he felt, holding Filippo when they were in bed last night, he would never forget how Filippo just clung to him, how they clung to each other. These little memories made Elia’s heart so full of love that it spilled over, filling his whole body with warmth.

Love is stronger than hate. Only now, Elia fully grasped the meaning of that statement and he looked at Filippo’s sleeping face so fondly, that his cheeks actually hurt from smiling.

He turned to look Marti’s text again.

— Damn, you’re right, Rametta — Elia whispered to himself and texted back two emojis: a heart and the gay pride flag.

He looked at Filippo again, repeating Love is stronger than hate over and over in his head, like a mantra. He wanted to never ever forget it.

After a while he decided to check all the other messages. He started opening the chats from the bottom, a habit about what Filippo always laughed and called him meticulous. Maybe he was, he didn’t care.

Gio: (05:14) Lu told me what happened Gio: (05:14) fucking motherfuckers Gio: (05:14) let me know if you need anything Elia: (11:19) I will, thanks Gio: (11:19) Same goes for Filippo Elia: (11:20) Thanks Gio, you’re the best <3

Luca: (05:32) I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything Elia Luca: (05:34) I didn’t understand what was going on at first Luca: (05:34) And then I didn’t know what to say and then it was over already Luca: (05:35) I’m sorry Elia: (12:21) It’s okay Luca Elia: (12:21) Honestly Elia: (12:21) Don’t worry Elia: (12:21) It’s not your fault anyway Elia: (12:22) I know you would have said something if you had noticed earlier Elia: (12:22) <3 Luca: (12:22) Okay Luca: (12:23) Next time I’ll kick their asses

Elia grinned at that. He had never seen Luca do such thing as kick someone’s ass but well, he was always open to surprises.

Elia: (12:24) Haha, can’t wait to see that Elia: (12:24) Thanks buddy <3 love you Luca: (12:24) Always

Elia smiled when suddenly he felt movement next to him and there was an arm, wriggling out from under the blanket, finding its way around his waist and feebly pulling him closer.

— Morning, love — Filippo mumbled, his voice raspy from sleep, his eyes still partly closed.

Elia put his phone aside, shifted closer and found his way under the blanket. He snuggled up against his boyfriend, resting his head on Filippo’s chest.

— Good morning — He whispered back.

And it was exactly that: a good morning.

[notarelationship]

Clinging to This Hating Game: Epilogue + Masterpost

For the @prompt-a-klainefic blog’s 2017 Reverse Bang

Link to the art by @datshitrandom

the prompt:

Kurt and Blaine couldn’t stand each other in high school, maybe one was a jock/cheerleader and the other a nerd/glee clubber. Or they were bitter rivals for competition solos if they were both in glee club. Now they both live in NY and their friends set them up on a blind date, not knowing they went to the same high school.

High School AU, Cheerio!Kurt, Jock!Blaine (we’re a bit past high school now, though) Rating: Explicit Warnings (for the story overall):  some bullying and homophobic language, teenage sex.  Warnings (for the Epilogue): Schmoop. Word Count: ~1350 (this chapter)

AO3

AO3 link Chapter 9

On tumblr : Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7,Ch 8

Notes:

Thanks to @mshoneysucklepink for helping me drive this thing. She's really the best beta a gal could want.

This is the end :-). Thanks for the support!

--

Epilogue

“Kurt! We are going to be late!” Blaine stood near the door to Kurt’s apartment, jingling keys in his pocket. After two years Kurt’s ‘get ready’ time seemed to be getting longer rather than shorter.

“I’m almost ready!” Kurt’s voice sing-songed out of the bedroom.

Blaine zipped up their respective tuxedo bags, triple checking that they each had everything they needed. “That’s good because it would not look good for both the Best Man and the Man of Honor to be late for the wedding.”

“Whatever.” Kurt came sailing out of the bedroom, looking stunning in a pair of cloud patterned jeans and a plain white button down that somehow emphasized Kurt’s shoulders so well Blaine’s mouth actually watered. “Mercedes will just think we were fooling around and lost track of time.”

Blaine smirked. “And she would be right. Hey -” He pulled Kurt in for a quick kiss. “You look gorgeous.”

“Mmmm, so do you.” Blaine’s heart skipped a tiny beat when Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine’s shoulders, deepening the kiss. “But you always look gorgeous.”

-

Blaine loved weddings. The crazy relatives, the nervous grooms, the anxious brides. He loved the music and the dancing and the certain feeling, at the best of them anyway, that love could get you through the hardest times. And he loved them even more now that someday he might even be able to celebrate his own.

So hours later, after the pictures and the ceremony, after the many, many, many champagne toasts, after the couples dances and the Electric Slide and the quick trip to the supply closet Kurt had found unlocked on his way to the men’s room, when Blaine finally had Kurt to himself, in his arms on the dance floor, he let himself have the fantasy.

“I know I said this earlier, but you look amazing in that tuxedo,” Blaine murmured into Kurt’s ear as they barely swayed together in the dwindling crowd. He let out a squeak when Kurt’s hand slid purposefully down his backside, squeezing his ass.

“That was a thank you grope, in case you couldn’t tell,” Kurt explained.

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Is that what that was?”

“Yes,” Kurt said, adopting a fake lofty air. “That’s my story. And don’t bat your eyelashes at me, you know I can’t resist that.”

“I did not know that,” Blaine said, batting his eyelashes not-so-innocently before laying his head on Kurt’s shoulder.

They stayed on the floor, dancing together and with friends as the band began their wind up. Sam and Mercedes had left the party an hour ago. They could leave whenever they wanted.

“You look tired,” Kurt said, his arms around Blaine’s waist. “You ready to head upstairs?” They had booked a room in the hotel just for the night, so they could be around in case either Sam or Mercedes needed anything in the morning before they left on their honeymoon.

Blaine pulled Kurt tighter. “I love you.”

Kurt laughed sweetly. “I love you too.”

“No. I mean I really love you Kurt. And I am so happy, and grateful, that we found each other again. That you were willing to take a chance on us after, well - after everything.” He kissed Kurt softly on the mouth. “I hope you’re happy.”

“Of course I’m happy Blaine,” Kurt answered. “Wait, you’re not going to propose are you? Because I’m open to it, but I think Mercedes would kill me if I got engaged at her wedding.”

“No.” Blaine laughed as he spun Kurt around the dance floor one last time. “But it’s good to know that you’re open to it.”

Kurt went up to their room while Blaine settled some things with the band and the catering. Blaine had thought about it a lot recently, proposing. It was hardly surprising that he had weddings on the brain, since they’d both been so involved helping Mercedes and Sam plan theirs.

They’d only been together for two years, but it felt like forever to Blaine - in all the best ways. Most of the time Blaine was appreciative of the time they’d spent apart. He knew that everyone needed to grow into themselves, he certainly had, and he was (mostly) happy with how he was turning out, even though he knew he had a long way to go. Kurt, too, talked often about how much more comfortable he felt in his skin once he’d gotten out of Ohio.

Sometimes, though, he still let himself wonder what it would have been like to have had Kurt on his side when they were younger. Or to have been able to be there for Kurt. He still remembered when ‘Kurt from the party’ had walked into glee club on his first day at McKinley. Blaine had thought about Kurt often in the days following the party, and was embarrassed to find out Kurt hadn’t been a college student. Blaine hadn’t been that worldly back then, no matter how much he would pretend he was. But in the light of day Kurt had been so cute, and a cheerleader? Blaine had been so nervous he couldn’t work up the nerve to talk to him. Coming to the realization that Kurt wanted nothing to do with him had hurt a little. At least until he’d realized Kurt was such a diva. Blaine smiled to himself as he got on the elevator.

They both went through so much growing up. Blaine didn’t like to dwell on it, because what he and Kurt had now was fantastic, but still, sometimes he wondered about what might have been.

Maybe, he thought as he slid the room key into the door lock. Maybe someday soon.

They had splurged for a suite, but Blaine was surprised to find the entryway dark when he entered. Kurt had gone up at least half an hour earlier and Blaine expected to find him either showered and naked, or waiting for him in the suite’s hot tub.

“Hey Kurt? Don’t tell me you fell asleep already? I had plans for you.” Silence. “Sexy plans,” he sang. “Kurt?”

“I’m in here,” Kurt called. The large entryway lead to a walk-through bathroom. On the other side was a huge entertaining area that opened to an L-shaped bedroom with a king sized bed Blaine had been looking forward to getting Kurt into all day.

“Kurt are you okay?”

Blaine didn’t know what he was expecting to find when he stepped through the doorway. What he did find was Kurt, his beautiful face lit by a dozen candles. “What’s all this? Where did you pack all those candles?”

“Blaine, don’t say anything yet.” Kurt took a step closer, reaching for Blaine’s hand. “I know we took a long time to get here, but I need you to know that am also so very happy that we found each other again. It makes me endlessly happy that you love me. I have never felt as loved, or as safe, as I do when I’m with you. Your love and your support mean more to me than I ever seem to be able express in words.”

Kurt got on one knee, and Blaine felt lightheaded. He thought he might faint. “Kurt, what -”

“Wait let me finish.” Kurt dug into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a ring box. “Blaine, I know it took us a while from when we met to getting here, but I think a lot about how happy I am that I fell in love with the first boy I ever kissed. And, if you'll have me, I would love, with all my heart, to be the last boy you ever kiss, too. Blaine Anderson will you marry me?”

Blaine choked out a sob, falling to his knees in front of Kurt and pulling his face to him for a kiss. Kurt pulled away after a minute.

“Well? Are you going to leave me hanging?”

Blaine laughed again, smiling so big he felt his face would split in two.

“Oh my god, yes, yes I will marry you.” He kissed Kurt again. “Every day. Yes.”

[apuppyforpresident]

“write about a character after a New Years party”

Dan didn't like New Years parties all that much, but the fear of missing out compelled him to go nonetheless. There was just so much drinking involved in the holiday season, it was exhausting - from the idiotic twelve pubs tradition to the lame office parties, Dan had had just about enough. But clearly not enough that it would stop him from going and trying to have a good time - besides, he had a Tinder date lined up, but while she looked a 10 online, her personality said 4. But then who went on Tinder looking for personality? Dan, apparently.

Dan just wanted something real, someone to keep him going for more than one night, someone to talk to and someone to love. But, sure, what was he hoping for at a New Years party in a club? You didn't meet decent people at clubs, everyone knew that. New Years parties in themselves were boring as fuck - sure everyone was hyped and excited before twelve, but once midnight arrived, and the couples kissed and the shots were downed, the novelty wore off within about three minutes.

Dan realised pretty quickly that the previous few New Years parties had all followed the same format, and he was tired of it. His date was pretty wasted already, but she was a waste of space anyway, and Dan was a bit tipsy himself - he left her at the bar after giving some excuse about feeling sick.

And it was this way that Dan found himself kicking a stone down the busy street, crowded with revellers; a taxi here, waiting patiently for the late-night animals; a drunk girl there, holding her heels in her hands and being supported by her friends. He kicked the stone further. He was sick of all the noise, all the clutter, all the drama and buzz of nights out - the pre-drinking, the infuriating drunkards, the shenanigans of fearless men in their 20's with liquid courage. He kicked the stone further. Every night out felt like a broken record to Dan. He kicked the stone further.

"What's your problem?"

Dan stopped abruptly: it took a moment for him to register the colourful rainbow lights outside the city's only gay bar, the fluttering by his ear as the pride flag hanging by the door. It took even longer for him, in his inebriated state, to notice he'd just kicked the pebble into the leg of a patron vaping outside the club doors.

"Sorry," he hastily said, sobering up, "accident."

The stranger - another man in his 20's, with pink streaks in his floppy hair and a deep black leather jacket - kicked the pebble back at Dan.

"You'd want to be careful," he said, "sure that could be seen as homophobic."

Dan laughed awkwardly. "Just an accident, mate - I'm not homophobic, I swear."

"Ally?"

"Bisexual."

"Ah." The stranger took another puff from his e-cigarette, the smoke rising slowly in the cold air, mixing with his breath. "I'm gay through and through. About as straight as the Mississippi."

Dan cast his mind far back to geography class, his brows furrowed - the stranger drew a squiggly line in the air, a meandering imprint on Dan's eyes. He nodded slowly.

"I wouldn't have said bi from lookin' at you," the other man said. Dan cocked his head. "I'd have said... pan. Maybe."

"Well I definitely would've said gay from looking at you," Dan replied. "It's the pink hair. That's super gay."

The stranger laughed, a full, loud one like a bark. It made Dan chuckle.

"What do they call you?"

"Dan."

"Dan? Chris." Chris extended his hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I... bid you adieu," Dan replied, trying to sound formal, but then he realised what "bid adieu" meant. "I mean... not goodbye, I mean... hi."

Chris laughed again, a bit too hard for the lameness of the joke. "So how do you earn your daily bread, Dan?"

"I'm in training to be a Garda - yourself?"

"I own this place," Chris said, pointing his e-cig at the bar behind them. "A Garda, huh? What compelled you to pick that particular profession?"

"Oh, you know, the uniform," Dan joked, and Chris grinned. "For real - since I was young, I always wanted to be one. My dad was one. Hope that doesn't make me a sheep."

"Not at all." Chris cocked his head in the direction of his bar. "Sure wasn't my own father a landlord himself? - admittedly, he didn't own a gay bar."

Dan nodded slowly, feeling that the conversation was reaching its untimely death. He asked, "What kind of bar was it, so?"

"You're not really interested - it was a small-town pub and hotel."

"Well that's boring." Dan scrunched up his face in mock-disapproval, and Chris chuckled.

A pause, a beat. In the background a drunk couple were getting a bit too close. Both men saw it, and Chris pretended to gag.

"Straights - gross," he remarked, glancing at his watch. "It's nearly time-"

"What flavour is that?" Dan asked, pointing to the e-cig Christ held between delicate, long fingers.

"Oh - uh - mulled wine. Festive," Chris replied. He hesitated, eyes glancing from his watch to Dan. "Do you want to try it?"

Dan didn't smoke - someone had offered him a cigarette was a teenager and it had nearly made him sick, so he averted anything that involved inhaling fumes - but he didn't want to look a fool in front of Chris. He took the e-cig carefully, nodded absentmindedly as Chris told him how to use it, and then, slowly, took a careful puff.

He felt the vapour tickle the back of his throat, inhaled as deep as he could - it was just like smelling mulled wine, except for the crackling sound from the device. It was much, much better than tobacco.

He handed it back, nodding - "That's nice. Very... aromatic. Festive."

Chris took another puff and then pocketed the e-cig. He looked at his watch again and said, "Fifteen minutes to midnight - I have to go back in and prep for the countdown."

Dan's face fell - was it really time? Could he not just have another few minutes with this mysterious, fabulous stranger?

"Come on in - drinks are on the house," Chris added.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely! - sure, I need to round off 2018 with one good deed, at least."

Chris reached out, grabbing Dan's hand and pulling him into the doors of the bar. The next fifteen minutes were a blur - colour, alcohol, excitement, music thump-thump-thumping in his ears and through the floor and through his chest, like a knife. Chris poured Dan a beer and then left him at the bar, saying he'd be back for the countdown. Dan drank the beer quickly, not knowing what to do with his hands, his eyes - he watched the dancers, the couples, the gaggles of flamboyant friends, living for the moment. He wished he could join them, be spontaneous like them. He kept drinking.

Ten minutes later and the music quietened, the lights brightened, and all attention was drawn to one wall, where there was projected a 60-second countdown. And there stood Chris - changed from his dark shirt to a bright pink one with the name of the bar and "2019" printed in bright, red letters.

He whetted the audience's appetite, thanking them for spending the night with his bar, promising one free drink to everyone, and briefly alluding to previous New Years parties, earning laughter from the drunker patrons.

He added, in a more sombre note, "Unfortunately, as you all know, this is the last and final New Years party we'll have the pleasure of hosting here - but let that not take away from the memories we've made, the friendships and relationships that have been born within these walls-

"Get on with it!" a bartender hollered, and Chris laughed out loud.

"Now, let the countdown begin - ten... nine... eight..."

The patrons shouted out the numbers, getting louder and louder as they got closer to midnight - Dan shouted at the top of his voice - suddenly, the room erupted in pounding music, glasses clinking and clapping, another New Year done and dusted. The bartender poured him and Dan two shots; they clinked their glasses and toasted the celebration.

"Is this place shutting down?" Dan shouted into the bartender's ear, leaning over the bar.

"Another two months-" the bartender indicated with his fingers "-not making enough money."

Chris appeared next to the bartender, started immediately pouring drinks for patrons who wanted to claim a free one. So everyone was getting free drinks, not just Dan, apparently. He smiled at Dan, a slow smile that wasn't sincere, and quickly looked away.

Dan cast his eyes to the room, drinking in the atmosphere like he had that shot - unlike any other club after midnight, this one was still buzzing, and it looked like it would be until the early hours. He didn't know what to do with himself, since he only knew Chris and Chris was busy - so he ordered another beer and took a few films for his Snapchat story, killing time.

At around half twelve, a hand yanked his phone out of his hand and Chris stood in its place, very close to Dan. He replaced Dan's phone to his front pocket and took the empty glass too, placing it atop the bar.

"Can't have you all alone on New Years," Chris shouted in Dan's ear, his breath fanning Dan's skin and making his hair stand up. "Dance with me."

Chris was a finer dancer by far than Dan - he put his entire personality, all of his energy into the cleanest, slickest moves Dan had seen in a long time. His body flowed like a river, making Dan suddenly self-conscious about his own awkward stumbling and clapping. Chris didn't judge him, though - he encouraged Dan, even trying to teach him one or two easier moves, which Dan would be sure to forget in the morning. Their bodies were so close, their hands brushing once or twice, the air felt electric - Chris's eyes were not shying away from looking Dan up and down.

After a few songs, and even with the energy lent to him by alcohol, Dan felt his fatigue catch up with him, and he pulled Chris off the dance floor to the bar.

"I have to go," he shouted, "early start tomorrow!"

"Thanks for stopping by," Chris shouted back. "See you here again, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Alright, then." Chris's dark eyes lingered, as if waiting for something from Dan, waiting for a sign, a signal, a move. He put his hand on Dan's elbow, gently squeezed, and Dan felt it through his whole body, like the bass. "Good luck!"

And he turned, swiftly, not giving Dan time to respond, to ask for his number or even say goodbye.

Dan picked up a beer mat as a memento and left too, shivering violently as soon as the cold, cold New Years air hit him. It was a relief from the sweaty atmosphere inside, but enveloped him uncaringly, and he immediately wanted to go back inside.

He walked on, the freezing wind making his shirt flap behind him, hands buried deep in his pockets. His thumb traced the edge of the beer mat, his thoughts still firmly on Chris and that enigmatic smile, that hypnotic dance. Was it madness to think there was something there? Sure, Chris was attractive, and maybe that's all it was - but the way he'd touched his elbow, the pleading look in his eyes told Dan it wasn't one-sided. Chris even gave him free drinks - but everyone else got the same. Even so... Dan was sick of waiting for the other person to make a move, sick of not being spontaneous and depending on the wants and intents of others. He played a role in his life too, surely?

He stopped by a streetlamp, fumbled around his pockets for a pen, and hastily scribbled his name and number on the beer mat - then he dashed back to the club, flashed his ID at the bouncer, and scouted the dance floor for Chris. He'd recognise that dance from a mile off, so where was he? Panic arose in him - what if it was a misunderstanding, what if Chris was just a flirt by nature and that's how he was with everyone? - Dan had known his fair share of gay men like that.

It took him a minute to remember that Chris wouldn't be on the dance floor since he owned the place - so he pushed his way through the revellers to the bar, finding Chris elegantly making a cocktail for a waiting patron. Dan watched, admiring the care Chris put in to making drinks, the delicacy with which he handled the ingredients.

Chris slid the glass over the bar to the customer, put the cash in the till, and turned to the next customer - Dan. At first Chris looked surprised, jumped a bit, and then a wide smile broke out, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"Forget something, stranger?" he asked, straining to be heard over the music.

"To give you this," Dan shouted, and handed Chris the beer mat. Chris laughed, pocketing it quickly.

"Call me," Dan mouthed, putting his hand to his ear as if it was a phone.