#oh yeah. that boy is gay. and i really believe that. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tartarusknight · 1 year ago

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I want more platonic stobin and bisexualy disaster Steve and gay disaster Eddie in my life. So I wrote some :)

Steve wanted to scream as he tried the handle again. "Steve. Steve!" Robin pulled him away from the door. "They aren't opening the door, and you're just gonna break the handle. Keith already hates your guts. Don't make it worse." She pointed out, weirdly calm about all of this. "Plus, it's not like we don't share space normally." She says and sinks down to the floor, tugging him down with her.

Steve looked at the door, "Why can't they accept that we're only ever going to be platonic?" He asks and runs a ran through his hair. He was sick of this. Of the comments and the teasing. It stresses him out.

They kept pushing the two of them together, and Steve was worried that it could mess up what friendship he had with Robin. Because Steve's used to messing up and hurting someone, and he really doesn't want to hurt Robin. He has nightmares of outing her by accident and ruining her life. It terrifies him.

"Steve, come on, it's okay. It's just a stupid bathroom. We've shared a bathroom stall. This is bigger than that." She jokes, and he pulls his knees up to his chest.

"I can't do this, Rob." He admits and watches her freeze. Her walls climbed up like he said something really stupid. "I'm sorry, but I'm just-"

She cuts him off, "I get it. You don't want to deal with the backlash of being a lesbian's friend." She says, and he blinks.

"What? No! I don't want to say the wrong thing. I get bitchy when I'm annoyed and I'm easily annoyed when I'm stressed. And I'm stressed! So I don't - I can't be the one to out you. I can't mess that up for you." He says, and it's nice to finally admit his fears.

Robin blinks at him, "That's what- Steve, that's what bothers you about all this?"

Steve nods, "I mess up everything I touch. I can't do that to you, I won't do that to you. Honestly, you should probably find better friends. One who thinks with his brai-"

"Shut up." Robin snaps, and he stops speaking. Looking at her with wide eyes. "You can't talk about my best friend that way. I won't let you," She states.

"You're best friend?"

Her eyes soften, "yeah dingus. Who else would be my best friend? We're soulmates," She decides, and he's confused because she sounds like she means it. "Platonic, with a capital p, soulmates."

He swallows back a ball of emotion, "even if all the kids I babysit-"

"Mother."

"Babysit," he stresses, and she smiles. "Try to get us together at every opportunity and won't believe that we aren't in love. Or that I'm in love with you at the least. I think you're better off because you call me dingus more than my name," he mused.

Robin sighed, "I won't say that it's not annoying. But I'm used to dodging questions about boys, and this way... with you, I have someone to be myself with. That's more important to me than some stupid preteens who think locking us in a bathroom would get us together."

Steve smiles, "last time we shared a bathroom did go pretty well, honestly." She knocked her knee into his. He glanced over at the door. "Do you think they'll give up?"

Robin snorts, "Dustin's more invested in your love life than you are. I don't think he'll give up unless you're dating someone else or the truth comes out."

Steve sighed, chewing his lower lip until something clicked in his head. "What If I come out?"

Robin blinked, "you- what?"

Steve nodded, "I mean I like both but I could just say I favor guys." He shrugs, "it's not like they could disprove it since it's mostly true."

Robin stared at him, "Steve... since when did you- what? Steve oh my god," She shifted onto her knees and slammed into him. "Since fucking when! Why didn't you ever tell me!"

Steve raised an eyebrow, "what do you mean since when? I literally point out hot guys all the time! When we watched watched Rocky Horror, I said Tim Curry was sexy!"

She shook his shoulders, "you did no such thing! You ask if I also think a guy is hot and you said- oh." It clicks for her and she falls back on her ass. She covers her face, "holy shit."

Steve smirks, "holy shit."

A giggle escapes her lips, "you so have a type."

"Shut up," he groans.

But before they can really dig into it, there's a loud knock on the door. "We're gonna open the door in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!" The door swings in a Dustin's hand is over his eyes like he's gonna be scarred at the sight of them.

"We're literally just sitting on the floor Henderson. Not having freaky bathroom sex," Steve rolls his eyes and stands, Robin following suit.

Dustin looks upset like he expect his plan to work. "I don't get it." Steve ruffles his hair as he passes the kid. Robin lets out a small laugh as she stretches her limbs like she had been stuck in there for more than just 15 minutes. Steve turns, and she locks eyes with him, a silent question.

"Kid, I've said this a million times, but I'll say it one more time." He glances at the other kids that had either always been there or gotten here at some point since he'd been locked into the bathroom. "Robin and I will never date. She and I have no romantic feelings for each other. And if you pull this shit when we're at work again, I'll kill you."

"It's not like it was hard to figure out how to check someone out," Max shrugged and Steve huffed at her nonchalant grin from behind the counter.

Steve ushers the kids out from behind the counter before taking his normal spot, looking around at the empty store. Robin moves and bumps shoulders with him. "Platonic feelings only." She gestures between them.

Dustin groan, "I just don't get why!"

Steve glances at Robin, "because I'm too gay for her." He states and everyone goes quiet. "Honestly boobies are so high school." He winks at Robin who looks at him like he's bravely stupid.

"Wait but you dated Nancy?" Mike questioned arms over his chest.

Steve rolled his eyes, "so? I am more picky on who I date. Doesn't matter the gender. Robin doesn't tick my boxes."

"But she should!" Dustin complains and Robin groans.

But then Steve sees someone in the windows, heading towards the doors to Family video. "My type is more," and he just gestures just as the door dings to call their attention to the newcomer.

Eddie Munson glances at the kids and then at Steve. "Sheepies," he says. Eyebrows raised in confusion at the eyes on him. Eddie glanced at Steve, "Harrington, you break the kids?" He asks as all the kids continue to stare at him as he moves to the horror section.

Steve waves his hand, like he can brush off the confusion. "Nah, they're just shocked that I'm not completely in love with Birdie over here."

Everyone's jaw is on the floor as Steve leans his arms on the counter, not even bothering to hide the way he checks Eddie out when the man looks away. "Right," Eddie sighs and grabs a movie. "Well, not everyone's type is jocks." Eddie teases slightly, having warmed up to Steve little by little when Steve picks the kids up from Hellfire.

Steve takes the movie from Eddie, giving him his one free movie he gets for the week and hands it back to Eddie without charging him. "I'll win ya over." He winks, and Eddie's eyes go a little wide.

Eyes glanced around like he could ask if anyone else saw that. "Um, well, yeah, how-how much for the-"

"Consider it on me." Steve waved his hand and then leaned more into Eddie's space, "I haven't seen this one yet."

Eddie swallows, "You should check it out. It's, uh, pretty good."

Steve smiles, "I'm shit with horror, maybe if I had someone to hold my hand through it." He sighs overdramatically, then snaps, "Oh, I know! If you're not busy we could watch it together. I mean, it seems like a scary metalhead like yourself would be capable of holding my hand through the jump scares."

Eddie's eyes are blinking rapidly, "it's for the boys." He says, looking lost. Steve frowns, and Eddie jumps into action, "But I could-" He stops himself and groans. "I've got to- plans- fuck-" He stumbles and practically smacks into the door in his rush to leave family video.

Steve sighs and leans his head down on the counter. Robin pats his back, "I miss my whiteboard." She sighs and he looks up to glare at her.

#eddie screams in his pillow when he gets home #gareth calls him pathetic #jeff just tells him how much he fucked up not ditching them to hang out with steve #because have you seen steve?#dustin begins to start to plot how to get steve and eddie together not long after this #platonic stobin #steddie #stranger things #knightly talks #pre steddie

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user211201 · 3 months ago

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Modulated

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

“I ain’t no motherfuckin’ redneck, you assholes! Don’t you fucking get it? I’ll never be ok with you being here and disrespecting our gay spaces!” I had shrieked and screamed, and I was being sassy as fuck. But they had darted me, so it was too late for me already. I had been one of the hottest little twinks in Colombia back then. I had such a tight little body, I was non-binary, and I was supportive of my local drag scene. I was absolutely into resisting these fucking fascists and their goddamn bullshit lifestyles, which I couldn’t stand.

That’s how I thought of it all back then, anyhow.

Man, that dart though, it had done its dirty work. I was writhing on the floor of the club, so I didn’t even get to witness the way it transformed me as I went into spasms. It was almost like having a seizure, but I could feel the muscle growing on me, and I could hear my shrieks and wails shift in pitch as I grew on into this whole new, far more masculine body.

I was getting to be built like a brick shithouse really fucking fast, and was taking on more of a mature look. Everywhere I was getting more muscle. I was splitting the seams of my jeans, and my underwear, and felt my back pressing up and splitting my tight pink t-shirt.

When I finally was able to sit up, I was in a daze. I had rendered my clothes asunder. I had bristles of hair all over my face, and the har on my head had grown longer, too, sort of flopping in my eyes. I was a mess.

And then the headache came. I was clutching the sides of my head and moaning, almost screaming in pain out loud, as my twinkish mind collapsed and got replaced by a growing part of me I didn’t even know existed. That part, my friends, is the motherfucking, take-charge redneck stud I am today.

My friends helped me get out of there, and I was still in transition. It takes a good seventy-two hours at least until you can fully collapse one of those weak-ass brains like the one I had before and until a more dominant, superior personality takes over like the one I was starting to get.

So yeah, like I said, I was a mess, and when my friends got me back to one of their apartments, I was still sporadically ranting about how dare those fascists do this to me, they’d never win, this was fucking awful. But as I heard myself talk, there was a growing part of me that was observing myself and thinking “so what? You sound like a raving lunatic. Look at this body! Damn, boy, just look at that muscle!”

Sleeping on it, man, that twink brain of mine must have collapsed even further. I woke up and I just wanted coffee with a splash of alcohol in it, so that’s what I got. Then I added two splashed. I had already stripped out of my shredded pink t-shirt, and my friends had some loose boxers that fit me, but I was just this naked, muscular stud in awe of his own body and trying to come to terms with who I was now.

I was seeing my friends with new eyes, too. They seemed anxious to me, weak, full of nervous, overly feminine motions, jittery, immature, skittish and mostly just kind of fucking annoying. “Those are your friends,” I’d remind myself. “This isn’t you who’s thinking this.”

But that growing part of me was thinking “This is you. This is all you, stud. You’re so much better than them. They don’t even know you’re thinking this, and if they only knew, they’d probably be terrified.” That thought made me want to laugh out loud, so I did.

“What are you laughing at?” one of them asked.

“Oh, nothing man, nothing,” I said, looking away and scratching my head. “These are your friends,” I told myself again, but I didn’t really seem to believe what I was trying to tell myself that morning. “So what if they’re your fucking friends,” my new mind was saying. “They’re fucking losers, man. Don’t let them drag you down. You ought to just get out of here.”

That morning, I was feeling just hornier and altogether more fucked up than I’d ever been. I was thinking, nah, this can’t be the new me. I’m no motherfucking redneck. I don’t think like them. But already I was feeling excited, having this body, having these different feelings, realising that I didn’t feel like such an evil guy like this, not like I thought I would, anyhow. All I wanted to do at that point in time, I felt like, was get the hell away from these people. I didn’t know to where. I borrowed some shoes and a t-shirt that was so tight it hurt, pleading that I had to get back to my apartment. It felt like the shoes would split, and the shirt was riding up on my belly, as I trotted back to my place.

I didn’t know what I was doing or what I was gonna do. When I got home, I felt thirsty, just wanting to drink a little, feeling like that would make this feel better, even though I told myself no, you have to compose yourself, you have to call people, you have to report this. Just one drink, I thought. It turned into shot after shot, and before I knew it, I was drunk, hard in my boxers, having kicked off the shoes and thrown that tight-ass shirt on the ground as soon.

Then I was beating off, and cumming, and the build-up to that orgasm, man, it flooded my brain with some real redneck juice. I wasn’t thinking of the type of guys I usually did. I was thinking about redneck studs, studs like myself, feeling the drool run down my chin as I beat off. As I came, shooting way up on my pecs, rubbing it in with my hand, I was whispering to myself, almost like a confession that I had yet to voice to anyone, “You hot fucking redneck. Holy fuck, you love this, don’t you. You’re a redneck now. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.”

The desire to live for working out and fucking was already growing in me.

Thoughts were just racing through my head then. I knew I didn’t want to be some lame-ass yuppie or some weak-ass queer, man. I felt this powerful attraction to the redneck scene, the working class scene, the country scene, the military scene, the jock scene, you name it, any scene were men were men instead of the glitter fairy I had been before. I couldn’t quite pin it all down at that point yet, but my thoughts were sure racing.

Can you picture me, getting drunk in my apartment, turned on at my own body and swirling thoughts? And then I started to really know, man. I started to know. There was no going back now. The guy I used to be was a loser. I didn’t want to be him anymore. I was pissed off that I ever even was him.

I walked barefoot into the bedroom, checking out his stuff in the drawers and on the walls. Almost none of it would even fit me anymore. His feminine attire and the way his shithole apartment was decorated disgusted me. It made me want to punch the wall, even, so I did that and it felt good. I saw the paint crack and the drywall cave in. This new body had power.

I screamed then, a roar of pure rage and exhilaration. I punched the wall again, and it felt so fucking good that soon I was ripping all his shit off the walls and throwing it in a corner, ripping that flouncy shit off the mattress and I didn’t stop, screaming the whole while, until the bedroom at least look bare bones enough to resemble something a man would want to sleep in. I’d be damned if I ever let that loser back into this mind.

There were a few flashes, sure, and man was he a crybaby as he went out, as well as one hell of an angry little prick. Lots of hatred in his heart. I’d just laugh and say, “Fuck you!” sometimes out loud as I felt that twink brain collapse forever.

And now, as far as I’m concerned, he’s gone man. No longer a part of me, thank God.

I was nervous at first, when I started trying to hang out with guys I thought I’d have a lot more in common with that my old friends. Would they accept me? I was pretty desperate for acceptance at that point. I starting hanging out at a diner that I knew a lot of them liked to frequent, classic diner that pre-dated even the 1950s, a real antique. But these sexy ass guys would show up there, and soon we got to talking over waffles and hash browns.

Soon I was telling them I was darted, and they were saying that was hot as fuck, wanting to hear the story. Soon I was telling it to them, my legs in the air, sweat dripping down my bearded chin, as I was getting fucked.

Months after that, I was almost fully integrated into the lifestyle, man, and soon I was the one doing more of the fucking, especially after I got these sweet-ass tattoos all over my right arm. Getting fully into it, the desire to be that all I could be as man, hell, it ran in my veins now. I was going to let those commies know that I was better than them in every single way imaginable, and I wanted to show it off. I still get hard just at the thought of that, demonstrating my own superiority in the most tangible – well, to them, intangible, because I don’t want them even fucking touching me – methods available to me.

Yeah boys, it meant war for me, just like it had when I was a stupid twink, only this time I was playing for the other side, and it was chess instead of checkers.

Of course, there’s a lot more to life than just that for me, namely having hot-ass sex with all sorts of country studs and military men, hell, being part of that whole network of strong and powerful men who worship and respect other guys who’ve worked for it. I feel like I’m serving my country and being a paragon of virtue for it even when my legs are slung over some guy’s bull neck and thick, rounded deltoids as he plows the fuck out of me with his long-ass rod.

I had never gotten fucked this good when I was a twink.

I do real work with myself now, a man’s work. I dress like a man, I eat like a man, and I live my life like a man. I’m fucking proud of it, too. I love who I am now, and relocated to the other side of town, too, where the action’s hotter and I have way more in common with most folks.

I am sure glad I’m a buff stud with a thick-ass chest these days, and I don’t ever go clean-shaven. Been really into guy’s pits lately, and getting them to flex for me so I can lick those. Yeah, shit, I’ve gotta stop, because here I’ve got a raging boner just telling you all about that right now. I swear I’m way more horny than I used to be. At least seventy-five percent of the time now, I’d bet, I’m a top these days.

I don’t really like bottom boys, either. Their mere existence tends to piss me off, to be honest, so when I do fuck them I tend to be an aggressive power top. A lot of the time I don’t even think of it that way, though. I just think of them as so weak that the same rules don’t even apply to them. Different rules, in a way, because they’re a different kind of guy than me. Much more like women, unable to control themselves, you know how they are. I used to be one of them, and I’m so glad I’m not anymore, that’s for fucking sure.

A lot of the time I prefer to just fool around with guys such as myself. I love topping another top, having to wrestle somebody for hours in a strength and dominance competition. Gets the blood flowing. I like somebody who puts up a fight. C’mon, son, do you have any idea how fucking fun that is for me now? To meet up and hook up with another guy who’s just as manly as I am? That’s the stuff I live for now. I’m ready to just fuck my life away with hot ass guys at this point.

So, yeah, I’m a top who loves to wrestle with other tops and see who can dominate. I must be pretty good at it if I swear I’m scoring a seventy-five percent these days, but that’s just because occasionally I throw in some twink losers. Yeah bud, even some of these leftists get thrown a bone by me every now and again. They need us, and I like them to know they need us. They wouldn’t know what to do without us.

One of these days, I might even check with one of my army friends and see if I can come along on a mission so that I can dart one of them myself. I think I’d laugh my ass off when my dart goes in his neck or his shoulder, wherever it his him. Just to see the look on his face, shit boy. That could turn a guy on just by imagining it, so one of these days I’ll have to make it legit.

Fuck if I care about the loser I once used to be or what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. My life is better now and that’s all that matters to me.

Hot-ass guys, man. That’s what I live for.

#redneck tf #jock tf #nerd to jock #masculinization #mental change #personality change

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gaywineauntsstuff · 1 month ago

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Because I am gay (see name above) all of my favs are gay but because dc are cowards and refuse to admit that yeah having a character damn near exclusively date redheaded friends and then making both his male close friends redheads is a lil suspicious

I have simply decided that Dick is openly bi and no one has realized it in the universe.(Titans -core 9- and Clark Kent excluded)

So here picture this.

They’re all at a diner/batburger/ wherever they chill as civilians. Are they doing important stuff, working on cases, shooting the shit, your choice- I’m lazy.

And it’s practically empty bc none of them have normal schedules and so yeah you can have lunch at 4:45am that’s a normal time to eat.

And some dude walks in and Dick just straight up freezes for a sec before hiding under the table. The dude orders to go and fucks off.

Dick gets back up and does a cartoonish ‘phew’ bc he’s extra

Jason: yo what the fuck was that

Dick: what the fuck was what?

Tim: that- you hiding under the table of our booth??

Dick: oh that

Steph: no shit worlds third greatest detective

Jason: yeah you saw that dude and freaked, I once saw you laugh in banes face and use his forearm as a jungle gym? What gives?

Dick: oh come on! You’ve never wanted to avoid an ex??

*cue spit take from character of your choice*

Steph: AN EX?!?

Dick:??? Yes

Tim looks like he’s seeing god himself parting the clouds, giving him a view of the sun

Jason is just giving Dick the how did I not know this what the fuck dude how could you not tell me stare

Dick looks at each of them: what did you think I only dated babs and Kori?? I have a life outside of our night job?? Right? Like I’ve dated many people who still don’t know what I do at night?

Steph: no do how could you not tell us about H.I.M

Dick: I mean he wasn’t really all that…nice by the time we hit the three month mark and we didn’t have much in common outside of a shared hobby

Tim who was a closeted bisexual for 5 years realizing his first ever idol the first ever Robin also liked boys: .... you dated him for three months?? when?

Dick: I don't know we broke up like 2 months ago

Steph: How was I not aware of this information??

Dick: im sorry would you like detailed information about my sex life??

Jason, traumatised:.... so when I was Robin, you and roy weren't wrestling in the bathrooms..

Dick:.....

Tim:.....

Steph:.....

Dick: yeah Jay no shit?!?

Tim: so you and Wally... were not playing Jenga when I visited

Dick:... you are adults yes? you realise that I as an adult was not going to tell twelve year olds that I was getting laid?

Steph: Dickie DIckie baby.... we knew you were fucking

Tim: true

Jason: unfortunately

Steph: we just didn't know you were also fucking men

Dick:....

Dick massaging his temples: okay so.... you know I have a thing for redheads and I notoriously befriend my exes.

Tim: yep

Jason: mhm

Dick: and none of you thought for a second that my two redheaded best friends who both have a type aka Dark haired and can do a backflip... and just decided we were totally Hetero besties

Steph: yeahhh I mean...

Tim weakly: you guys just seem

Jay: like friends

Dick deadpan: Lian still calls me dad sometimes and Wally and Linda keep asking me to swing or join a throuple.

steph: fully believed they were joking high key tho

Dick: okay, okay... so the way that I talk about Joey Wilson... just didn't tell you anything?

Jay: okay that one... was my bad actually y'all were hella gay

Tim: hey! that's no fairrr we werent there

Dick: you broke into my house Tim, you literally stalked me

Tim: that's not the same and you know it.

#jason todd #batfam #batman #nightwing #dick grayson #comics #batfamily #tim drake #stephanie brown #incorrect batfamily quotes #bisexual Dick Grayson agenda #imagine being Tim and finding out that your idol was queer #id kill myself #personally #Tim realising that he accidentally found koris strap when he broke in the first time #Tim gags a little #he also thanks god he was too hyper fixated on flips and hero's to figure out this info #Jason has to try and kill roy now

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steviewashere · 4 months ago

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What's A Boy in Love Supposed To Do?

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Biphobia, Eddie Being Kind of an Asshole at First, Use of the Word Queer (But not as a Slur) Tags: Post-Canon, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Aware of Own Bisexuality Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Angry Steve Harrington, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Temporary Unrequited Love/Feeligns, Rejection, (But not completely because Eddie doesn't know how he feels yet), Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Confident Steve Harrington, Bitchy Steve Harrington, (And he deserves to be here), Eddie Munson Being an Idiot, Eddie Munson Figuring Things Out, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, (But He's Not in Love Yet), Mild Resolve, Dialogue Heavy, Author is Bisexual For @steddieangstyaugust Day 24 Prompt: "Go, see if I care." Title from "Oh l'amour" by Erasure

🏳️‍🌈—————🏳️‍🌈 “As flattered as I am, Steve, I don’t want to be somebody’s experiment.”

He blinks at Eddie. Rigid to the cushion he sits on. It’s an instantaneous reaction: the flush of his cheeks, the pull to his lips, the narrowing of his eyes. A rage, he doesn’t think he’s felt since Jonathan Byers and his camera, begins to fill him. Can feel it low in the pit of his stomach and pulsing in the center of his forehead.

The gall of this asshole, Steve thinks, I can’t believe this shit.

Steve clicks his tongue on the back of his teeth. “Excuse me?” he asks thinly, “what the hell are you talking about?” His hands lay on his knees and squeeze harshly, fingernails digging through the denim of his jeans.

Eddie’s mouth twists. A sharp breath shoots through his nose. He looks away from Steve’s face, shrugging. “I mean,” he says slowly, “I mean…you like girls, Steve. This could just be a fluke. Like a…like maybe you should put more thought into this.”

Can’t help himself, Steve scoffs loudly. “Genuinely, Eddie, what the fuck are you talking about? I come out to you, I tell you that I like you, and you—what—turn this around as if I’m stupid about my feelings?”

“I guess?” Eddie answers, honest in a way Steve thinks he shouldn’t be. “You’re just…you’re confused. You’ve got some wires crossed or something. Maybe it’s just because I share some features with Nancy. But you don’t like me, Steve. Not really.”

He’s honestly not sure how to respond to that. Part of him is wilted. Part of him is alive with fury and flames, with tension, and unease. This feeling through him is the thing he doesn’t know. Steve falls back into his seat on the sofa, arms crossed over his chest, and avoiding all of Eddie he’d be able to see.

“Can’t believe this,” Steve mutters, “can’t believe you’re treating me like this, too. Why does everybody think that.”

“What do you”—

“I’ve been to queer bars, y’know,” he explains bitterly, “been in there searching for people who catch my eye. Because, get this if you can, I’m not a picky person.” Steve glares daggers at Eddie. “Because, and if you can believe me on this, I know what I want. Surprising, I know. But you wouldn’t know that because you treat me like everybody does—like I’m some brainless fucking low-life who only knows how to use his dick and bat his eyes.

“I go out and tell these people at the bars that I’m bisexual. That I’m into guys, that I’m into girls. Tell ‘em that, yeah, I only have experience getting in bed with a girl. But it’s not like I’m not interested in that aspect with guys, too—I just haven’t had the chance, you understand me on that, I’m sure.” And that maybe hits a little too hard; knowing that Eddie’s gay and that his experience with sex is very limited. He continues, though, “Yet, as soon as I try and explain myself, I get pushed away. I get looked at all weird. One time, a guy told me I wasn’t queer enough to be with him. Like…what the fuck does that even mean?”

“Steve, I”—

He points a finger in Eddie’s face, hand shaking and palm sweating. “Don’t interrupt me. You came out to me and I listened all the way through; you get to hear me out, too.” Steve huffs. Draws his hand back towards his lap, immediately going to his habit of picking at his fingers. Trying to allocate the nerves he has, the ones that were so intense a few moments ago. “How queer do I have to be to want to kiss a guy?” he speaks rhetorically and quietly, “how queer do I have to be to appreciate the way they smile at me? Or…or how queer do I have to be to want to hold your hand, Eddie? Seriously. What’s it gonna take? Is it ‘experimenting’ if I know that I want it? Is it ‘experimenting’ if I know how much I already love you?

“Because I do, if you can believe that. I fell in love with you before I really had the words. And I fell in love with you before I came to the realization that I like guys, too. But I know my own feelings. I’ve been in love before, I think I can understand that part of me.” He looks down at his hands in his lap, eyes burning, throat stinging, and face flushing hot. “I wish I didn’t have to explain something I already know. But I guess I will for however long people question the authenticity of my sexuality. Including you, I guess.”

The room fills with tense silence after that. Air so hot and so thick, he can feel it heavy on his shoulders, weighing him further and further, and making him sink deep into the cushion underneath him.

Sure, this isn’t the first time he’s been rejected. Nancy did. Robin did. Now Eddie is. He’s been rejected by guys at the bars and clubs. Maybe he doesn’t have the whole knowledge or ‘etiquette’ to this yet, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to learn. He wants to call a guy his baby, hook his finger into their belt loop, drag them into a dark corner and kiss them soundly and breathlessly. Wants to take a guy home at the end of the night and hold his hand as they figure out each other’s bodies. Kiss him in the morning, if the guy sticks around. Wants to relish in the scratch of facial hair on his sensitive skin.

He could see himself with men, that’s the thing. He knows that in his fantasies—whether it be imagining himself with the men in the centerfolds of gay magazines, or the daydreams of being in love with Freddie Mercury—that he’s completely comfortable with the thought of being with a man. Loves the thought of it so much, that he finally realized he wanted that with Eddie especially. Because a night-in with Eddie, watching a movie, arm around his back, cushioning his cheek on Eddie’s shoulder, kissing each other slow and soft—all of that sounds like heaven, a dream that could animate and he could make real.

On the couch, distance between them, Steve’s never felt so far away from a dream of his. Even that initial daydream with Nancy sounds more probable than falling in love with Eddie slowly and surely. He sort of, really, hates that.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes. “I don’t know what to say.”

An apology might be nice, Steve sourly thinks. He just shrugs, though. “I don’t know what I want you to say, so,” he states quietly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Eddie give one sharp nod. “This is…a lot to take in. I should just leave.”

Of course. Run away, Eds. Run away like you always do. “Go. See if I care,” Steve murmurs. Face at his lap still, tears ready to spill down his cheeks. A part of him thinks that he’ll never see Eddie again. He doesn’t want that. But maybe…maybe it’s for the best? It’s the one thing he doesn’t know.

Eddie stands up, walks towards the door, but stops in the doorway to the living room. He raps his knuckles on the doorframe. Steve can’t help but look up. “I accept you,” Eddie says quietly, “even if it’s too easy to say or too easy to hear, but I do. Just let me have a little bit of time to think about your confession, Steve. I think I feel the same, but I want to be confident like you. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

He inhales slowly and lets out a soft breath through his mouth. Steve wants a better apology, but one thing at a time, he supposes. It was hard when he figured things out for himself; it’s harder to hold a grudge against somebody doing the exact same thing. “If you find out you feel the same,” Steve says hopefully, “can we hold hands?”

“Stevie, when I’m confident about how I feel, we can do whatever you want. I’ll be back, I promise. I’ll have better words and a better apology, too.” He lets go of the doorframe, where he rested his hand after knocking on it. But before he can leave, he looks Steve directly in the eyes. Says, “And there’s no such thing as ‘queer enough’. You’re perfect as-is, Steve. I’m just stupid. And those other guys are complete assholes for not even attempting to get their heads out of their asses and go out with you.

“You deserve the world. And I want to give that to you.”

“Let’s cool off first.”

Eddie nods again, smiles small, and Steve returns it. “Yeah, we should do that,” he whispers. Lets out a deep sigh. Softly, “Take care of yourself tonight, okay? I’m sorry for…I’m sorry for being an ignorant pile of shit. I’m gonna do better, no matter how long it takes to prove myself to you.”

After that, Eddie lets himself out. And Steve lets him leave, doesn’t chase after him, even when every part of him panics about letting Eddie get away. But this is for the better, he thinks. Knows that not everything works itself better overnight. It’s a start, though. Not a satisfying one, but it’s the beginning of something.

🏳️‍🌈—————🏳️‍🌈

#steddieangstyaugust #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #gay eddie munson #biphobia #hopeful ending

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libraford · 22 days ago

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This is somewhat on the hush, but I'm researching gay conversion therapy for a very important activism THING happening in my city and boy has it been... revealing?

So like... I was never in one of the programs, but I am definitely seeing that its more common and covert than the extreme cases portrayed in films and I'm starting to wonder if one of my childhood friends was in one. Because I was outed pretty young and they were sent off somewhere and prevented from talking to me for awhile. And when they came back it was... umm... it was different? Like it was just... it was strange. I could be mistaken, though.

I'm also seeing some parallels between the abuses of conversion therapy and the abuses of toxic workplaces and I find it really interesting how easy it is for me to relate to the cycle of hypervigilance ("Oh yeah this place is great, wouldn't change it for the world"), questioning your own experiences ("Wait, did that really happen the way I remember it or am I overreacting or making it up?"), and then the sobering period ("holy shit, I was abused for three years and I just sat there and took it.") Because fairly consistently in the case studies, there's a honeymoon period when they 'graduate' the program and have only fond memories, which takes some time to properly integrate into the actual reality. That and the undermining of the sense of self, brainwashing, etc.

But that's a parallel to discuss some other time.

I am looking for some more material to make my case for a conversion therapy ban, but I have to focus on two things:

I have to focus on minors because when we get into adults in conversion therapy it gets a little hairy on the concept of informed consent.

I need to prove that it is relevant to our city because I think that the majority of the board think that it can't or doesn't happen here. So I think it might be good to know some of the more covert ways that these programs operate.

I have quite a bit for a good, solid case- but I have to have enough for at least three meetings. I'm looking for testimonials, academic papers on what it looks like in practice (I think the abuse aspects of it are well known enough- like they understand that its BAD, but I don't think they understand that its COMMON), and some insight into how someone FINDS a program like this (I've noticed they typically don't advertise themselves as conversion therapy programs, so what kinds of dogwhistles and code words might they be using.)

This is my first foray into proper politics and I want to make sure I go in strong. I believe we can do this!

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mulletmitsuya · 1 year ago

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Toman Groupchat

Warnings: swearing, the topic of sex is brought up a lot, mentions of the r word (i don't actually say it i just say "r word"), gayness, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, teenage boys. also snuck in a lot of personal headcanons so that might not be your thing

Desc: Mikey lost his V-card

Mikey: just had the sex

Mikey: it's not all that, tbh

Mikey: i didn't like it

Mikey: i was quite indifferent to the situation actually

Mitsuya: that's great 👍

Smiley: you're the last one to lose your v-card and you come back with a report like this?😒

Smiley: we want details

Draken: whose we?

Mitsuya: no we don't

Chifuyu: it must have been difficult tackling the whole issue with you being 5'3 and all

Mikey: you're an inch taller than me😐

Chifuyu: "taller" being the key word

Baji: what didn't you like about the sex?

Baji: i think sex is great

Kazutora: i think it's super nice until you get in over your head and freak out about your performance so you end up having a panic attack and she just leaves

Smiley: LMAOOOOOO

Draken: that's actually kinda sad, you good?

Kazutora: no? i'll never emotionally recover. never again

Baji: maybe it should be with someone you trust and have been friends with for a number of years. maybe even your best friend who would do anything for you. that's just my opinion tho

Draken: just tell him ffs. anything but this

Kazutora: i have no girl friends?? the only women i know who're affiliated with this friendgroup are hina (taken), emma (mikey's sister and also taken), and yuzuha (gay)

Baji: why does it have to be a girl

Mikey: bro

Hakkai: 💀

Smiley: mention homosexuality once and here Hakkai comes

Hakkai: 😐

Kazutora: Baji i know you're gay and i support your lgbtq+ lifestyle but i'm not into dicks like you are man

Baji: what about assholes

Mitsuya: what's the point of this, like just ask him out atp

Mikey: you'd let KAZUTORA top???? insane

Kazutora: what's wrong with me topping? also who am i topping??

Smiley: well you're a twink so you're obviously a bottom

Chifuyu: Kazutora are you actually just gonna ignore what everyone else is saying

Kazutora: aren't you guys talking to Baji?

Draken: are you stupid or what

Kazutora: i'm really confused rn can we just to back to talking about Mikey

Mikey: yes actually. i've decided that i don't like sex and won't be doing it again

Chifuyu: bad day for Takemitchy

Takemitchy: what?

Chifuyu: well since you ride his dick so much

Takemitchy: HUH

Takemitchy: i've never done that with Mikey-kun tho??? i'm with Hina? also I'm straight so I don't understand what you mean by that 😥

Chifuyu: i don't actually mean-

Chifuyu: nvm

Baji: are we allowed to call people the r word anymore

Angry: no it's a slur

Baji: you're probably mad because people said it to you huh? lmao

Angry: yes

Baji: oh

Smiley: i didn't even mean it Angry it was just that one time

Angry: several, one times. but okay

Angry: i still love you

Smiley: can you not say that in front of our friends like idk what to do rn cause i can't say it back so it looks embarssing for you

Angry: 😕

Smiley: ...

Angry: ☹️

Smiley: i love you too

Angry: thank you

Chifuyu: very rare Smiley human decency moment

Draken: you guys are such weird siblings but that was great to watch. character development in a matter of seconds

Smiley: you should all kill yourselves

Mikey: man i really want to

Mikey: that was a literal joke before you guys get weird

Draken: you've actively tried to kill yourself tho

Mikey: yeah but like i won't do it anymore

Baji: we must just, believe you?

Mikey: i know that's hard to do because i lie all the time but yes

Draken: not a convincing argument but nice try

Mitsuya: terrible try actually. Mikey should we be worried?

Mikey: miss me with that gay shit, i'm fine

Mitsuya: i hate you guys so much

Draken: not me tho cause i'm your og

Mitsuya: 😐

Mitsuya: yeah i guess

Draken: 🤞

Draken: i'm gonna go out with my girlfriend now

Draken: also Mikey you're probably asexual. or you haven't found the right one to do it with yet idk

Mikey: what's asexual

Draken: google it

Mikey: Ken-chin c'mon i'm having a crisis rn

Draken: basically low or very little sexual attraction to others

Draken: there's a whole spectrum to it tho so you should probably do some research because that was an extremely watered down explanation

Draken: i'm ace too if that helps

Baji: Emma's a whole ass slut so how does she deal with that

Smiley: imagine bagging Ryuguji Ken with his sexy ass and he doesn't wanna smash. tragic

Draken: first of all, Baji i'll fucking kill you, never say that about Emma again

Draken: and fuck you Smiley

Angry: are you traumatized because of living in a sex orientated/obsessed environment so you eventually began to detest any affiliation with the act?

Draken: yes actually

Angry: i see

Mikey: i just don't like it. i'm not traumatized like Ken-chin :(

Draken: it's whatever

Baji: calm down i didn't call Emma a slut as an insult i just mean it as a describing word because she likes fucking

Baji: i've known her longer than you and she's been fucking since she knew what the thing was

Mikey: i probably should have addressed that as an older brother or something

Mikey: yk, cause i take care of my family

Baji: now she takes care of you with your chronically depressed ass

Mikey: 😒

Kazutora: is Emma also traumatized? like the opposite of Draken?

Mikey: wait should i ask?? her mom did abandon her and she did grow up without a father figure so like maybe i should talk to her

Smiley: you didn't have to dish out her problems like that 💀

Baji: she's got the Sano slut genes because wasn't Shinichiro falling in love with different people everyday? then your dad was impregnating people all the time. skipped Mikey tho

Draken: not everything is trauma related. also Emma just likes sex. it's not a huge deal breaker and if it was she would tell me and we'd talk about it

Mikey: what about having kids?

Draken: stop asking me this shit we'll do that when we're ready

Smiley: it's crazy how Draken is one of the healthiest people here. always reacting sensibly to situations and dealing with his trauma normally. he's such a good guy. hate him

Draken: love you too

Mikey: did he deal with it all that healthily if he beats people to a pulp most of the time

Draken: i stopped doing that

Baji: why though, you were an actual unit

Baji: wasted talent. i still beat people up

Draken: Emma said to

Mikey: fair

Smiley: Mitsuya could be on Draken's level too but something went wrong along the way cause he's a boy liker

Mitsuya: 🖕

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sunshine-zenith · 2 months ago

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Okay but like. AU where Mary doesn’t actually learn Cas is an Angel until waaaaay later

Her first introduction to Cas involves Dean frantically getting her to lower her gun, Cas tearfully throwing himself at Dean like a widower reunited with their believed-dead spouse, Dean hugging Cas back just as tightly, and her giving them that Oh They Gay side eye. When Dean says Cas is an Angel, let’s be real given the context she has it probably sounds Super Married. Cas agreeing that he’s an Angel, not a hunter, could come off as “yeah I put up with so much shit for this guy,” especially when paired with his exasperated “no I don’t have a harp” — it just screams “we’ve been married so long that this isn’t even an inside joke it’s a double act and I’m a reluctant but committed participant.”

Also seriously, I know she was literally just resurrected by god’s sister, but “he’s an Angel —wings, harp, you know” sounds like spousely teasing, not a proper or coherent introduction to an entire species that until that moment you didn’t know where actually real or something you could tangibly interact with

When Sam and Dean are missing and Cas attempts to locate them and takes up hunting, Mary would chalk up his lack of success to the fact that he’s not a hunter — he’s a hunter’s husband. Mary herself has personal experience with this exact thing, given that John wasn’t raised a hunter either. As such, she’s either a little softer on her assumed son-in-law, or she projects hard onto him

Cas preferring to fight with a magic blade and not firearms? Not wise in their life, but again, he’s not actually a hunter. She tentatively brings up her concerns with Dean and he says he’s working on getting Cas to use a gun, but Cas is a stubborn asshole (he says with fondness), plus he’s damn good with that blade, so he’s fine in the meantime. She raises her eyebrow but leaves it for the time being

That time Cas kills Death for her and her sons? That’s just devoted husband/in-law behavior, especially given how emotional he gets after — look closely, Cas absolutely had very human tears in his eyes as he monologues about how important and special they are to him

That time Cas almost dies horribly and is saved by a demon? Everyone just doesn’t say “it’s specifically because he’s an Angel” here, at least not when she’s in ear shot, and if Crowley still calls him “choir boy” and such, well he’s a sarcastic demon, why should she worry about his weird quips, there are more important things to deal with. For all she knows, this is just a horrible curse that any of them could’ve gotten if they were stabbed with that blade

One time she tentatively asks Sam about Cas and Dean, specifically asking how long they’ve been together. Sam just laughs in Long Suffering Little Brother

Otherwise, Mary doesn’t really ask, not really wanting to push and frankly not doing so great with the whole My Babies Are Now Older Than Me And Everyone Else I Know Is Dead thing. If Cas is weird about technology or uses strange syntax or usually lets Dean finish his meals for him, she has very little to compare it to and very little brain space to spend on it anyway. She’s still processing that her son is old enough to be married in the first place, who cares if the guy he’s grossly in love with is a little strange. He seems nice enough, and she’s content leave it at that

As a result of her keeping her distance, with a pinch of contrived convenience here, she just straight up misses all the times Cas uses his Grace or references heaven or anything like that

Yes she still knows about the whole Lucifer-Kelly-Nephilim thing, but she could just mentally categorize Lucifer with Powerful Demon — given that she was killed by a powerful demon, she doesn’t really need a theology lesson to know that Satan having a baby is probably bad. Yes she still works with the MOL, but they’ve got her on such an information diet that no one pulls her aside to say “btw you know that non-human celestial being that hangs around with your barbarian sons is a non-human celestial being, right?”

She’s a hunter from a long line of hunters, and even if she makes questionable choices she’s smart and experienced. She just has a massive blind spot where Cas is because she assumes that he’s just her sweet if strange son-in-law that her son is obviously and painfully in love with, and nobody corrects her because they assume she already knows

She finds out by complete accident in the most mundane way possible — Cas lifting the Impala so Dean can do mechanic stuff underneath it, Cas using his Grace to heal someone’s papercut, Cas accidentally cutting himself with a kitchen knife and not reaching to the injury which disappears in 2.8 seconds anyway

She shoots him on the spot. He’s fine, of course, but everyone else collectively loses their shit

At no point is it actually clarified that Dean and Cas aren’t actually together. Instead Mary walks away mildly embarrassed that she had no idea her son-in-law wasn’t human

#mary winchester #supernatural #shitpost #destiel #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #long post #don’t think too hard about this. this is meant to be silly

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ellieslittlewh0re · 1 year ago

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Temptations part 2 - stepsister! ellie x fem reader

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

*pictures used are not meant to represent reader

wk- 2.5k

additional tags: reader is Joel’s bio daughter (no race is described), sarah doesn’t exists in this bc I said so, ellie is adopted, rocker! ellie, band! ellie, loser! ellie, perv! ellie, weed! mention, ellie is kinda awful in this, like typical f*ck boy beat, reader and ellie are polar opposites so they kinda don’t get along, reader is a overachiever, ellie is a deadbeat, nothing too crazy happens in this part (yet), clothes are described (both what reader and e! are wearing)LOTS of s*xual tension, mutual pinning and gay longing etc…

*sorry for the pov change I wanted this to read like a typical x reader

It was the next day, and Ellie had no idea that you heard everything... down to the breathy moans and whimpers that exited her mouth while she fucked herself raw.

It was almost 2 in the afternoon, and Ellie hadn't come downstairs yet, and you weren't complaining because how the fuck are you supposed to face her after that?

You sat on the couch, scrolling through Tiktok but not really watching them, your mind too busy thinking about how your name sounded coming from Ellie's lips.

At first, you didn't want to believe it- you wanted to be appalled, but you weren't- in fact, you felt quite the opposite. It was alluring, inviting almost.

While listening to her curses of your name, your hand slipped down to your panties, teasing your clothed cunt as your forehead rested on the wall that separated the two of you, but you stopped yourself, snapping out of it like it was an evil curse.

"This is wrongThis is wrongThis is wrong" You repeated to yourself over and over as you crawled under the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut and pretending it was a weird dream.

"You're not watching that show without me, are you?"

Ellie said as she reached the bottom of the stairs, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a glass from the cupboard.

"Hu-? No, of course not." Your head flicks from your phone as you jump, too busy in your thoughts to notice the squeak of the stairs as Ellie came down them.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Ellie sits next to you, bringing the glass to her lips as she chugs the water until it was almost empty.

"What? No-?" You scoff, getting defensive because you know your lying.

Ellie sat the glass down on the coffee table, leaning her back into the cushion, throwing her hands up that suggests she comes in peace and doesn't want a fight.

"Where are you going? You got plans today or-?" Ellie asks, motioning her hand at my outfit.

Truthfully, you didn't have plans, but you woke up early, and nerves on high alert didn't allow you to sleep much last night. You were anxious and couldn't sit still hence why you did your makeup and put on real clothes this morning.

"Oh, no. Jus' felt like getting ready." You shrug.

Ellie's eyes go wide with a dramatic expression of shock on her face.

"Done up all pretty with nowhere to go?"

She asked rhetorically, teasing you, but she meant every word.

Pretty. She called you pretty... but she only met it in a friendly way, nothing weird, right? That didn't stop the way your clit began to throb in your panties- or how your thighs instinctively squeeze together.

"It's criminal, right?" You laugh, dipping your head down to avoid eye contact.

You wondered how Ellie could face you after last night and how confidently she spoke to you- is she not ashamed of it? Or maybe you heard it wrong, and it wasn't your name she cried out in pleasure.

"If you want- my band is playing at Owls tonight if you wanna come."

"Owls the bar? Didn't someone get killed there last summer?"

A chuckle reverberated in her throat as she nods.

"Yeah- that's the one."

She leans back, manspreading as she interlocks her fingers, twisting her knuckles between them.

She was still wearing her black wifebeater and sweats, and you can't help notice she's not wearing a bra. The vague shape of her breasts through the thin fabric made your head spin.

You quickly look away, not wanting to get caught.

"Look- I know it's not really your scene or whatever, but you should come..,might help you loosen up a bit." Ellie said, the corner of her lips tugging into a grin.

You tilt your head at her, squinting your eyes before widening them.

"What? Do you think I need loosening up?"

You ask offendedly, but not in a serious way.

Ellie's tongue glides over her top of row of teeth, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of crimson.

"I dunno, do you?"

Ellie tilts her head to the side as she spoke, a cockiness to her tone that contrasted her freckled flushed cheeks.

You held your breath as your stomach erupted into butterflies. Even with her hair all messy, bags under her eyes and chapped lips- she was dangerously attractive.

Ellie thought the same thing about you. You were dangerous. "Eye candy" is how she would often describe you to her friends, conveniently leaving out the part where she was talking about her innocent little step sister.

Ellie's eyes fixated on your lips, trailing down to the top of your breasts that spilled over your low-cut lacy tank, eyes continuing to your short skirt that bunched higher from your crossed-legged position, leaving the tops of your thighs visible.

Ellie had to tear her eyes away, a shaky breath- more like a growl- passing her lips as she did so.

"You don't have to come if you don't-"

"I'll go." You cut her off, a sense of excitement taking over your tone as you lean closer.

Ellie's eyes go wide with shock, not expecting you to be so eager.

"Are you sure?"

"I mean.. I'm kinda curious. I've never seen you play for real before." You shrug, sounding enthusiastic about the idea.

Ellie clears her throat, biting the tissue on her inner cheek to stop herself from erupting into a toothy smile.

"Okay- cool..cool... uh- it's in downtown so we have to leave around 10."

"Els! What should I wear? I didn't bring anything for this kind of occasion." You yell from your room, sounding frantic as you rummaged through your options.

It was 20 till you knew the rest of Ellie's band would be showing up. You thought you gave yourself plenty of time to get ready, but time slipped you both, too preoccupied with Ellie insisting on teaching you how to play video games.

It was a pitiful attempt really. Your aim sucked, and you could never remember the controls- but Ellie enjoyed watching you struggle anyways, cracking jokes like "pretty sure Helen Keller would be better at this than you, doll." and "good thing you're pretty."

You ignored the nicknames in that moment, but now you felt a pressure to look your best for tonight.

Ellie opened the door to your bedroom, lifting her head to look at you, but she froze.

You were only wearing a bra and a skirt you couldn't decide if you wanted to wear it or switch it out for something else.

Ellie swallowed hard, knowing she should look away, but she couldn't. A soft pink, lacy bra that was definitely see through, framing your soft skin with its ruffled pattern.

"Uh- that seems pretty good." Ellie teased, pointing a finger at your half-dressed body.

You roll your eyes, a frustrated huff leaving your mouth as you turn back towards the closet.

"M' serious, El. I dunno what to wear. Can you help?"

Ellie clicked her tongue behind her teeth, pretending to think when really she was just buying time- enjoying herself as you stood half naked, whining and pouting for her help.

"Here-"

Ellie finally musters the common sense to peel her eyes away, looking to your bed that had miscellaneous pieces of your wardrobe scattered on top.

"Wear this."

She holds up a simple, y2k style slip dress, candy apple green that had little pink bows at the base of the thin straps.

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion, taking the dress from her before holding it to your front, looking down at it before looking back up to her.

Ellie observes, her eyes taking their time as they scan your body. Her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

"I dunno, Els... you don't think it's too short?" You ask innocently, turning to get a better look in your floor length mirror.

Definitely. That's why she picked it.

"No. Plus we don't have time, everyone is on their way over." Ellie said, adding a tinge of annoyance in her voice to make it more believable.

"Y/n! We have to go." Ellie yells from the bottom of the stairs, checking the time on her phone.

"Coming!" You ring back, stumbling down the stairs in a pair of kitten heels, throwing a small purse over your shoulder.

You used your few spare minutes to top off your makeup, adding small silver hoop earrings and a dainty heart pendant necklace to finish off the look.

"Sorry! I'm ready." You say out of breath as you meet her at the bottom of the stairs, smiling wide at her.

Standing there in front of Ellie- she immediately forgets- no... she doesn't care about the time or if she's late or not because holy shit, you look like something out of a xxx magazine in Ellie's mind.

The dress stops just below your ass, but if you bend down, that would be a different story. The fabric cinched below your breasts, making them full and spill over the top. Your hair is perfectly messy, stray baby hairs framing your face.

"Is something wrong?"

Your question snaps Ellie out of the trance that you put her in, her head lifting to your face.

"No- nothings wrong- you just look..."

She hums, looking over your body one last time.

Your head tilts in confusion, worried what she might say next.

"You clean up nice, is all." Ellie said more quietly, like saying it too loud would be like admitting all her sinful desires.

You smile are her warmly, eyeing her over and poking a finger in her chest.

"I can say the same for you."

She chucked, looking down so that you wouldn't see how bright her cheeks burned from your compliment.

Ellie wore a loose muscle tee- black and hand torn by Ellie herself, the logo of a band you didn't recognize in faded letters across the front, cropped just enough to where her lower stomach poked through along with the waistband of her branded boxers.

"Are they here?"

You ask, pointing a finger over your shoulder to the front door.

"Oh- uh.. not yet- got pulled over for speeding or something, but they should be here soon."

Ellie scratches the back of her neck- a nervous tick of hers.

You hum in acknowledgment, walking past her to sit on the couch, crossing your ankles with your hands tucked between your thighs.

Your hands were clammy, and your stomach started to twist- your nerves were starting to get the better of you. It was all very out of your comfort zone- the crowd, the music, hell.. even hanging out and getting along with Ellie felt alien.

"You want a shot?" Ellie asked, noticing the way you were starting to get cold feet and wanted to do everything in her power to keep you in her grasp.

Your face lights up, visibly delighted at the suggestion.

"Oh my god- yes please." You exhaust dramatically.

You move to the kitchen, taking a seat on a barstool.

You watch Ellie open a cupboard, reaching for a couple of shot glasses. Your lips part as you watch her shirt rise up, leaving her toned stomach on display. Her slim waist contracting, making the muscles even more visible.

Your stomach tightens, biting your lip as she walks over to you, blissfully unaware of how you were staring her down like she was a meal, and you were starved.

"Titos or fireball?"

Ellie holds up the two bottles for you, looking up and based on her reaction (a scoff and a grin tugging the corner of her lips) your stupid stare did not go unnoticed.

"Keep it in your pants, would ya?" Ellie asked rhetorically, teasing you where she knows it would make you burn the hottest.

Your jaw drops- shocked and embarrassed, your face grows warm.

"Oh my god- YOU'RE unbelievable." You exasperated, yanking the clear liquor from her hands and started to pour it yourself into one of the glasses.

She watches as you toss your head back while simultaneously filling a glass for herself, the cocky grin on her face never faltering.

The vodka burned as it went down, leaving your throat tingly as you tried your best to not make a face.

"Wow- didn't know my baby sis was a pro."

Ellie teased before doing the same, tilting her head back and downing it in one go, not flinching like she'd done it hundreds of times.

"What do you mean by that?" You questioned the sarcasm in her words, furrowing your brows as you leaned in, your breasts plunging out further as they rested on the countertop.

"Nothin' angel. Jus' can't imagine you partying it up at that shiny college of yours."

Your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek, wanting to prove her wrong- your grab the handle of liquor and pour another shot, swallowing it with more determination this time.

Ellie closes in, resting her elbows on the other side of the countertop dangerously close to you.

You felt warm, not just because of the alcohol, but because of how close proximity she was. All her features- scars and freckles, were crystal clear. Her lips were chapped and full, her eyes a darker shade of green than you remember them being.

You lean closer, leaving only a few inches between your lips and hers- enough to feel her breath mix with yours.

"You don't know me as much as you think you do."

It came out like a whisper, soft and dripping with need. Your back straightened as you widened your knees- allowing the surface of the seat to be pressed against your thinly clothed cunt, chasing friction that you desperately needed.

Ellie's eyes widened in surprise before they narrowed in, growing frustrated and hungry. It's like you were toying with her- punishing her, using her own fucked up fantasies to your advantage. You simply wanted to gave her a taste and see if she'd bite.

She bit her lip before wetting it with her tongue, leaning in to ghost over your lips.

"Guess I have a lot to learn."

You practically whimper into her, restraining yourself from closing in fully to feel her lips on yours, when a knock at the door interrupted.

taglist:@unstablefemme @97cityy @eddiemunsonsgroupie @girlfr1endism @perrzs 6. @kenz-ee @imahallucination11 @ellieseattle69

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ladykailitha · 2 years ago

Text

Do You Know What Shovels Dig? Graves Part 1

Just dipping my toe into the shovel talks trend.

“Hey, Steve?”

Steve turned around and Jonathan frowned. Steve’s eyes were puffy and his nose was red. “Oh, hey, man. What’s up?”

Jonathan could tell he was trying not to wipe the obvious tears from his face. As if that wouldn’t draw attention to them.

“I wanted to talk to you about you and Eddie’s relationship--”

Steve crumpled. That was the only way to describe it. The man was barely holding it together as it was, but it seemed that that was straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Look, I get it,” Steve snapped. “Don’t break Eddie’s heart. It sooo soft and I’m suuuuch a bitch. I don’t need the shovel talk from you.” The last word was said with such venom, Jonathan was forced to take a step back.

“Who’s been giving you shovel talks?” he asked.

Steve threw his arms in the air. “It would be easier to list off who hasn’t. The Byers family and El, only I can’t say that because you’re here. So just Will, your mom, and El.”

Jonathan frowned. “Even Robin?” Because that didn’t sound right. He had seen the two of them together and they were like freakishly close.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve snarled bitterly. “That’s the latest one. The one that makes me just want to throw myself into the god damn pool.”

Well, shit.

“Apparently this is Eddie first real relationship and since being gay is so hard right now, breaking his heart would be a disservice to humankind,” Steve mocked. “I asked her about my heart and my first relationship with a guy. But apparently that is as important as Eddie’s experience.”

Now that? Jonathan didn’t believe. But Steve was clearly hurt and was being dramatic about it. Which he was going to allow because holy shit.

But apparently Steve was just getting started. “At least Eddie’s friends all showed up together to give one shovel talk so that was nice. Hop and Wayne each did it while cleaning their hunting rifles, like they weren’t terrifying enough. I mean Mike’s an ass, so his I could brush off, but Dustin and Erica? Why does Eddie get more loyalty from them when I literally saved their lives? But Lucas and Max also double teamed me, so that was all sorts of fun. Nancy casually brought up that she has three guns now. So yeah, just get it over with so I can go back to being the worst boyfriend in Hawkins!”

Jonathan forced him to sit down. “That was a lot to unpack, I’m not going to lie. But take a deep breath for me, can you do that?”

Steve nodded and took a deep breath.

“Now let it out slow,“ Jonathan continued. Steve followed his instruction. “Great now keep doing that until your heart no longer feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest.”

Steve started breathing more normally and Jonathan sat next to him. “I’m not actually here for a shovel talk. I was wondering if you or Eddie would be willing to talk to Will about liking boys.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment. “What?”

“Yeah, he’s going through a really hard time with it right now,” Jonathan explained. “And I’m not really getting through to him because I’m straight and it’s pretty much meaningless coming from me.”

“Oh.”

“But no, I get your reaction, dude,” he said. “I really do. Has anyone given Eddie the shovel talk?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s not like I can ask, is it? ‘Oh hey, Eddie, anyone threaten your life over our relationship lately. No, no, not homophobes, I mean our friends? No? Well that’s just peachy!’“

Jonathan barked out a laugh. “Yeah, no matter how you phrase that it’s going to come off as bitchy. Especially if no one has.”

Steve nodded.

“Look, if you talk to Will for me,” Jonathan said, “I’ll talk to Eddie. Deal?”

Steve looked at the hand for a moment before he shook it. “Deal.”

Jonathan knocked on the Munson’s door. Eddie opened it with a look of surprise.

“Look, man,” Eddie said with a sigh. “I don’t sell anymore. And besides your friend from Cali has better stuff.”

Jonathan held up his prized. “Oh, I’m aware, I’m offering to share.”

Eddie looked at him for a moment and then closed the door behind him. “Yeah, okay.”

Jonathan lit two blunts and passed one to Eddie.

Eddie took a drag and sighed. “Shit this stuff is good.”

Jonathan just smiled.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the share, man,” Eddie said after a few minutes, “but why are you here?”

“I went over to Steve’s to ask him if he would be willing to talk to Will for me,” he said after taking a drag.

“Because your brother is gayer then the May pole?” Eddie supplied.

“Yup,” he replied. “Only our Stevie wasn’t doing so good.”

Eddie leapt to his feet. “What?!”

Jonathan tugged on his pant leg. “Sit down, dude. Let me explain before you go off half cocked and make things worse.”

Eddie sat down with a grumble. “You better start talking and you better do it fast.”

“In my experience shovel talks are for people you don’t trust not for people you care about,” Jonathan said slowly. “Only it seems our friends didn’t get the memo.”

“People have been giving Steve the shovel talk?” Eddie asked, eyes wide, jutting his chin forward in shock. “But no one’s said shit to me!”

Jonathan winced. “That’s kinda what me and Steve were afraid of.”

Eddie felt his heart sink to his stomach. “Do you--did he say how long it’s been going on?”

Jonathan shook his head. “But the fact that only my house and El haven’t given him the shovel talk I would probably bet since you two announced your relationship.”

“Shit,” Eddie whispered. “I bet the first two were funny, endearing even. Steve likes that kind of stuff. And then as it kept happening...”

“Yeah,” Jonathan agreed. “Has he been distant lately?”

Eddie closed his eyes and nodded. “Now I know why.” He thought for a moment. “Is there a way to call everyone together without alerting Steve, too?”

Jonathan shrugged. “If his boyfriend were to ‘accidentally’ turn off the walkie for an hour for some hot makeup sex...”

Eddie laughed. “I can absolutely do that.”

“I’ll set it up,” Jonathan said. He flicked the remainder of his blunt to the ground and stood up to grind it out under his boot.

Dang it, this was getting longer than I planned, but I’ll put out a part two later.

Edit: and it’s later! And part three! Part four and Part FIVE! Part Six!!!

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #jonathan and steve are friends

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featherandferns · 5 months ago

Text

daylight - ten

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 10 of the daylight series | read part 9 here

content warnings: mentions of abuse and bereavement

word count: 1.5k.

blurb: fulfilling your promise to Barry, what starts as a photoshoot for his website turns into some well-meaning advice.

“What’s biting your bark?”

You lower your camera down from your line of sight so you can meet Barry’s eyes. You hope that way you can decipher what he just said, but no. “What?”

“What’s the matter?” he translates with an eye roll. You shrug.

“Nothing. Why’d you ask?”

A small smirk starts to show as he nods to your camera. “Because you’ve just taken about five pictures with the lens protector still on.”

Frowning, you look down to your camera to find that he’s telling the truth. “Oh.”

You take it off and pocket it. How did you not notice?

“Something on your mind?”

“It’s not important,” you politely dodge, flashing him a smile. Barry raises his brows and you get the feeling that he’s not easily discouraged.

“This might come as a shock to you, but I was young once too,” Barry says. “So what is it? Boy trouble? Girl trouble?”

The apparent gay-rights ally Barry stands stoic, brow quirked and hands stuffed in his overall pockets, as he waits for your reply. You’re a little alarmed how easy he had your number down.

“Boy trouble, I guess,” you sigh. Shaking your head, you renew your smile. “It’s really not a big deal though. Let’s get these shots done before we lose the light, huh?”

To distract your busy mind from thoughts of JJ, you had gone to Barry’s to fulfil your offer of completing promo shots for his website. He was more than happy to indulge. He even went to the effort of putting on a fresh pair of overalls.

“Is this that Maybank kid?”

Okay, can this guy read your mind or something? The bewildered look on your face must be answer enough as Barry lets out a raspy laugh. His voice sounds like he’s been gurgling gas and inhaling smog for most of his years on earth. It’s weirdly comforting, like the smell of warm, fresh sawdust.

“Come on, kid,” he says, wandering over to one of the plastic lawn chairs that sits outside his garage. “Indulge me.”

For some reason, you do. You take the seat next to him, your camera turned off and placed in your lap.

“We, uh, got in this dumb fight the other day,” you find yourself saying. “You see, we’ve been spending more and more time together and just getting closer, I guess you could say.”

“Close enough to leave space for Jesus?” Barry wonders. Your face burns hot red.

“Me and you aren't good enough friends yet for you to get that kind of info, Barry,” you jokingly return, hoping your fluster doesn’t show. Barry bobs his head, your joshing response seemingly answer enough.

“Like I said, I was young once too,” comes his coded reply.

“Anyway,” you say, redirecting the conversation, “I started to get all twitchy about it ‘cause I didn’t know where we stood. And I’ve never been good at complicated. You see, I sorta dated this guy back when I lived in Canada and I guess you could say he did a number on me.”

“He mess ya around?”

“To put it nicely, yeah,” you say, smiling smally. “So I’m not very good at opening up to new possibilities and stuff. It doesn’t help that JJ’s so hard to read, either. He’s the kinda guy who says one thing but does another. And I know people tend to see what they want to see, but I swear to God, sometimes I catch him looking at me in a way that makes me think that maybe there’s something more there.”

“Would that be so bad if there was?” Barry wonders, slouching back in his chair.

Frowning, you look at him. His question passes in and out of your mind as realisation dawns upon you. “I can’t believe I just told you all of that.”

“I’m easy to talk to, kid," Barry shrugs. "My wife always said I was given God’s gifted ears: always good to listen but never much to talk."

You laugh softly.

“Yeah, she always came through with the good-enough advice for the both of us.”

Pursing your lips, you ponder his earlier question. You can’t seem to settle on an answer. “I’m not sure if it would be a bad thing. I guess I’m just scared that whatever the answer is, things might change. I don’t know if I want them to. I like how we are now.”

“And yet, you don’t,” Barry observes.

Chuckling, you nod. “Yeah. Guess I can’t win, eh?”

Looking down, you fiddle with the buttons and dials on your camera. Barry’s quiet for a while and you can practically hear his rusty cogs turning in his mind.

“You met that kid’s dad yet?” he asks, out of the blue.

“Who? JJ’s? No, I haven’t met him yet,” you say. “I’ve heard a bit about him though.”

“He’s a troubled guy,” Barry sighs. Shaking his head, he says, “I was friends with him a while back but some people just wanna drown, and sometimes you gotta swim away before you get taken down with ‘em. But that poor kid: he got stuck with two shabby parents. His mama up and left, and before that she was a lying, cheatin’ son of a bitch - not to speak too out of turn. His papa probably has a closer relationship with a bottle than with the kid.”

You think back to the other night, sat in JJ’s house, surrounded by trash and tumult. JJ’s own drinking and smoking habits were easy to catch onto. It worried you plenty but it felt wrong to lecture. He omitted his parents from most stories and anecdotes but you suppose you didn't notice all that much as you had a habit of doing the same.

“I say all this ‘cause I think you gotta understand something. That poor son of a bitch didn’t have the best example of what love was growing up,” Barry says with a sad shrug. “Sometimes that means you don’t always know it when you see it. So, maybe he don’t know how to tell you ‘cause he don’t know what it is.”

You sigh and look out to the desolate road that sits outside his garage. “Y’know, JJ told me about your wife and daughter. I’m really sorry.”

Barry goes quiet but the air doesn’t feel tense. You take it as space to continue.

“Your daughter was really pretty. I saw her in that photo in your shop.”

“She were an angel. God just needed her back home,” Barry quietly returns.

Looking to him, you smile, small and sympathetic.

Grunting, Barry leans forward. “Look, I’ve known JJ since he was yea-high,” he says, gesturing with his hand to the height of a small child. “He’s got a good heart but a short fuse. He runs.”

“That maybe explains why I haven’t heard from him since our fight,” you mumble. Barry’s smile feels like confirmation.

“But I tell you one thing that I do know. Just like my little angel: that kid is loyal to the bone. If he cares for someone, he sinks his darn talons in and don’t let go - no matter what. Even his dear old pops he’ll defend to the end of the earth if someone dare say a bad word ‘bout him, despite all the beating and berating.”

Your brows knit with that and your heart lurches.

“So, if you come a’callin’ then he’ll come a’runnin’, I’ll tell you that now,” Barry assures you. “You just gotta know what you’re callin’ for.”

Nodding, you take in his advice. It helps ease the anxious insomnia that has been eating away at you these past few days. You start to feel as though a path is being carved out for you, fresh and foreign, different to the one you tread with Tyler.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you ask Barry.

His eyes hold the weight of the worlds within them as he smiles kindly at you. “Cause you remind me of my daughter. I like to think that if she had lived to be your age, she’d have been just like you.”

That mark of high praise etches itself into your brain. You wear it like a badge of honour the way a wartime soldier might with his medals, and sit in quiet disbelief that someone would say something so generous to you.

After Barry’s well-guided advice, you get back to the photoshoot. You feel as though you saw him different through the camera lens after that. Every wrinkle on his forehead formed a map of his life: of hours spent at gravesites; of restless nights, alone in his house; of hard work at the garage, fixing and pimping out cars and trucks. Whilst some might say Barry wasn’t book-smart, he didn’t need to be. He was smart in the things that mattered. People and problems. With that intelligence, you find that as you walk back into your house, things feel less cluttered in your mind. It’s like he gave you the boxes to help organise all the thoughts you’d accumulated about JJ.

As you approach your bedroom door, that content smile that had stitched itself to your skin the whole journey home fades as you find it closed. You distinctly remember leaving it open. Slowly cracking it open, your mouth drops with your bag when your eyes land on the person sat on your bed.

“Mimsy?”

read part eleven here!

taglist:

#jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #obx #outer banks #outerbanks #obx fic #outer banks fic #outerbanks fic #jj fic #jj maybank fic #jj x fem!reader #jj maybank x fem!reader

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floralscented · 27 days ago

Text

THE REAPERㅤㅤ—ㅤㅤEVENT OF THE FUCKIN' CENTURY.

THE REAPER disappeared off the face of the planet in the 20th century. SOLDIER BOY is the only one who holds the answers. A WAITING GAME ensues to see which, if either, makes it out of the depths of the unknown first.

includes, they're gay ㅤㅤㅤ u get to meet the side characters < 3 ㅤㅤㅤ idk i think that's it IT'S MILD. COMPARED TO WAHT COMES NEXT

word count : 3.6k

notes, my monthy fic update is done time to drop off the face of the planet again for 2384590438 years PERDFKLSLJ sry for edging aftercare for so long i'm just a girl whose interests change like the weather

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤprev part!ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterpost!ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤnext part!

04.

COLE WAS NOT wearing his fucking glasses and that was final. The Vought stylist brought them in underneath a silver platter like he was supposed to be excited for the reveal of glasses that would help his failing eyesight. As if that was something he would ever be excited for. The rest of his life, watching it fail despite the rest of his body healing fine, all because his powers just did that? Going blind because his powers just did that?

The only reason he did not tell Allie to get fucked was because she was the messenger. He didn’t shoot messengers. He just shot the sender twice.

“They’re really not so bad, Reaper,” she said in that soft voice of hers, tucking her hair behind one of her ears, fingers catching on the temples of the Vought Exclusive glasses she’d tried on. She was a sweetheart, really. Cole couldn’t believe he thought about shooting her.

Couldn’t believe a lot of the shit in his head, if he thought about it. So he didn’t.

“You try having your eyes failing on you, then tell me they’re ‘not so bad’,” he grumbles furiously, staring at his reflection in the large, golden framed mirror in one of Vought-American’s special dressing rooms on the upper floors. Cole meets Allie’s eyes in the reflection of the glass. “Oh. Fuck. Sorry.”

She plucks his glasses off of her face, and unfolds hers from being tucked into the neckline of her peplum dress, sliding them into her face. “Should switch you and Obsidian’s suits for that. Inconvenience the both of you.”

“Hey, he’s innocent in all of this, alright?” Cole laughs, a sound he doesn’t often do. Too locked up in his head, where it’s all dark and fucky. A pause. “Obsidian’s coming?”

“Rumor has it,” Allie singsongs in response, coming up behind Cole to smooth out the skin tight leather of his outfit. He’s beginning to think she has a thing for him. He’s beginning to think he needs a new damn stylist — or whatever she was. “They want to show unity, between the Six, now that Soldier Boy—”

Oh, fucking kill him.

“Yeah, yeah, no need to stroke his ego while he’s not here to get off on it,” he grumbled all over again, waving his hand in dismissive irritation. “God forbid he know they threw a fucking Gala for his safe return. As if he can die. As if I haven’t tried—”

Allie beams at him in the mirror, like he’s a spectacle. “Sorry,” she splutters when he catches her, head falling, “it’s just— I’m an intern, so I don’t get to see the likes of you all very often and— it’s real?”

Opportunities fall into his bored hands sometimes. Cole glances down at himself in his latex supersuit, then flicks his eyes back up to her. “Yeah. All real.”

Hates himself instantly. Has never, not once, felt so much like Ben in his life.

“No!” she splutters all over again, her fist punching out to hit him in the arm. “The rivalries. The drama. I thought it was just publicity.”

Cole knew that, by the way. He’s just falling victim, like the rest of America currently, based on the newspaper headlines, to the influence of Soldier Boy. Get him out of here.

Still, he puts on his media trained smile and nods once. “A lot of it’s just for show.” He talks himself out of trying to kill Soldier Boy twice an hour. “All in good fun.” He knows how he’d do it, too. “Gotta keep people watching, y’know?” Ben not included. Because Cole wanted to burn his eyes out and make his stupid head explode.

Cole claps his hands together, turning his head to the door. Still closed, no sign of Legend yet, coming to collect him and the others. “Well, Allie. Go check for me that The Legend hasn’t croaked yet, yeah? He’s late again.”

Allie, seemingly having been waiting for an order, jumps into action like a robot. Cole felt a wash of relief the moment that she was out of the room.

He didn’t hesitate to glance at the vanity counter that she’d left his glasses on, shooting the brightest beam of light at them to try and shatter them. No avail. Worth a shot, though.

His door cracks open, and he first hears it in the sounds that come before the actual movement. Heavy stomping footsteps, an even heavier sigh.

Cole expects Legend. Has an irritable teasing remark on the tip of his tongue.

It’s Ben.

“Just wanted to see if this was killin’ you yet, princess,” Ben hums, cigar hanging out of his mouth, hair styled flat and gelled against his scalp. “Having to celebrate me tonight.”

“I’m not celebrating shit,” Cole says through a scoff, running his fingers through his hair. He really should start putting an effort into his appearance, shouldn’t he? Can’t just bank on being the one of the Six everyone’s afraid to cross. “There’s free wine. I’m goin’ for free wine.”

“Don’t be like that,” Ben puffs an exhale of cigar smoke into the dressing room, making it smell like leather and tobacco at once. “You owe me a bit of fucking respect after the display yesterday.”

Cole’s eye starts twitching, like it always does when Ben opens his mouth and tries to reprimand him for not kissing his ass. “Yeah. Alright.”

He expects Ben to hound him a bit more, just to really solidify how much his feelings were hurt by specifically Cole’s unhappiness about his return. They’ve played this stupid game enough that Cole can predict every single one of Ben’s steps and still goes easy on him.

Instead, there’s the telltale scrape of heavy, solid metal on hardwood, and he only has time to blink before the whistle of something flying through the room overtakes any other sound. Ben’s shield.

Cole doesn’t have time to physically defend himself, or even react, before the edge of it slams into his abdomen and shoves him against the wall. Against the wall, into the wall — what was the difference? Drywall cracks behind his spine, and there’s a split second of blearing pain behind his eyes before his blood’s already sending its defenses to heal it.

“What the fuck?” Cole shouts, his boot kicking at the titanium steel and trying to shove it off of his leg where it’d fallen. Expectedly, he can’t move it.

Expectedly, he’s getting pissy. First they want him to make a grand debut next to Soldier Boy in fucking glasses — to prove that Soldier Boy is the strongest in his time of praise, he guessed, or maybe just so he could see. Either way made his blood turn to fire and ash. Then this—

“I have to go to a gala dedicated to me with a fucking hole in my chest,” Ben snarls, his booming voice echoing throughout the small dressing room. “Do you know how patronizing that is?”

“I didn’t know you knew what that word meant,” Cole says, mostly to himself, “been reading the Daily Tribune? Doing the crosswords?”

“I will fucking kill you one day, Reaper,” he responds through his gritted teeth, his own boots stomping on the ground as he goes to retrieve his shield, “and there won’t be a goddamn person to mourn you, and not a person to reap you either.”

Anger flares through him like a lit match. It’d been a minute, and it’s rusty at best, but he gives in to the dark. The shadows cast behind the vanity, the darker ones beneath the soft, maroon couch in the middle of the room.

He thinks it, and they finally, finally fall silent for a second, obeying the command in his head and curl into a wispy black hand around Ben’s throat.

“Nice trick,” Ben rasps through his strained throat, his twitching lips betraying the calm facade he wears like a mask, “gonna dim the light now?”

Finish it. He doesn’t. Finish him. He won’t. “Maybe the one in your eyes.”

“You wish.”

You wish, you wish, you wish. Fuck, he did wish.

It’s always like this when he gives in to the shadows. Their voices quiet when he reaches out to them, and then they’re loud, pounding in his skull.

He’s gotten used to pushing them away, though, Even when it makes his limbs feel too big for his skin, denying something so innate within him.

Cole holds the grip on Ben’s throat a second longer before he wills the shadows into bleary black smoke again. Ben’s hand comes up to rub at the reddened mark on his skin, his eyes ablaze with fire.

Ben’s hands shoot out before Cole can blink, strong fingers grabbing Cole by the nylon of his supersuit, They drag him in until they’re nose to nose, hot angry breath splaying on his face in puffs.

A blink, and Cole thinks he might hit him. A blink, and he’s certain he will, already preparing to have to pop his nose into place again, crack his jaw on track again.

He kisses him.

It’s bruising. teeth clashing into teeth, hard enough to send them both back into the wall behind Cole. Cole is too shocked to do anything, at first, except for let him, even as it felt like ice water being poured directly over his head, turning everything to ice.

Finally, he returns to his senses, and he shoves Ben back with his hands on his chest. Ben’s hands only curl tighter into the nylon fabric. “What the fuck, Ben?”

Ben’s chest heaves, heavy breaths leaving his parted lips. He says nothing in his defense, not a single word, but his eyes falling to Cole’s mouth says a thousand of them. One second, they’re staring at each other. The next second, Cole isn’t sure who moves first; him, or Ben. Ben, whose hands drag him back in by his grip on his shirt. Cole, who lifted his hands to grasp at Ben’s face, holding him in place so he couldn’t break free again.

It wasn’t romantic by any means. It was entirely lust and anger driving their mouths together. Ben pushes him back against the wall and the cracked drywall behind them, using his grip on Cole’s suit to lift him easily.

The skin tight fabric of their supersuits leaves little to the imagination about how this was affecting them, which does nothing but make Cole groan into Ben’s open mouth.

Ben shoves him harder into the wall, his voice a low, warning omen on his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”

For once in his entire life, Cole listens to him. He’d deny it until he died, though.

Ben’s knee knocks roughly against Cole’s, forcing him to spread them wider, and once Cole obliges, he presses himself deeper between them. Ben’s tongue swipes across Cole’s bottom lip until it opens, invading his mouth with force, just as he invades everything.

That thought alone has Cole shoving him off of him until Ben’s spine collides with the vanity, stumbling after him to sink his fingers in the waistband of Ben’s pants, pulling his hips closer but still keeping him pinned to the vanity.

Ben’s pupils are blown, eyes glazing as he stares into Cole’s. He leans in, teeth clamping around Cole’s bottom lip and drags it backwards until it pops back against his teeth.

“Hey, Reap,” a voice — Obsidian’s, he realizes — calls from the other side of the door, and Ben jerks back so quickly that his teeth bite into Cole’s lip. Cole’s eyes flare at the blood that draws to the surface of the skin, his eyes already flaring— “They’re about to announce us downstairs in the Plaza.”

The gold in Cole’s eyes dies down, but his heart still rests firmly in his throat; can feel it when he swallows. Ben’s teeth are clenched tightly, his jaw flexing in the process.

“Alright,” Cole calls back through the door, his voice strained and thick. “I’ll be down.”

“Right. Tell Soldier Boy, too, if y’see him.” Yeah. Cole saw him, alright. Ben’s eyes dare him to say something about it. “His own party and he’s M.I.A.”

Cole’s lips twitch. Ben’s eyes darken.

Obsidian’s footsteps echo down the hallway outside before Cole can say anything, though, and weighted seconds pass where neither Cole or Ben move. One crowded against a desk, the other crowding him.

Ben shoves past him once Cole’s mouth opens, the altered reality they’d found themselves in shattering around them. His shoulder knocks hard into Cole’s on his way out.

The door slams behind him, rattling in the frame against the hinges, leaving Cole to bear the weight of it all on his shoulders.

—

Downstairs, the rich and the influential sit at circular tables in the ballroom of the Plaza, dressed to the nines and muttering amongst themselves. Golden lights hang over each table, illuminating the tablecloth and their glittering wine and champagne glasses. The stage at the very back of the ballroom is the brightest; stage lights drown it in glowing white, a podium in the center and three chairs to right of it, an open space on the left.

“Hope you plan on dimming that,” Obsidian says from somewhere in the shadows over Cole’s shoulders. Sebastian Orville looks surprisingly steady on his feet and comfortable in this crowded setting for someone who hasn’t left his house in three months, minimum. Cole supposed three months was enough time to get his gravity shit in control, if anything.

His eyes are as stormy as ever, though, when Cole glances over his shoulder to look at him. Constantly shifting swirls of black and gray, so at odds with the rest of him. Messy curtains of sandy brown hair falling in his face, tan skin, strong jaw. He’s the most boyish of the Six’s men, in a way, and somehow one of the least human in what he does.

“How are you here?” Cole asks incredulously, scanning his form for any indication of what is possibly keeping him from sending every glass, every table, every person, from slamming into the ceiling.

His lips twitch, but before he can answer, Klara, Liberty, says in a false whisper, “they’ve got him shackled.”

Sebastian’s smile is wide and genuine for someone who’s housebound, and more than likely one with furniture floating around it like bubbles. He raises his folded hands up, sleeves falling down his elbows and revealing solid black shackles. “I am being very polite today.”

“Go on, let ‘im see how you walk,” Steven, Stratostorm, nudges him forward by the elbow. “He was shufflin’ around all over the lobby. Y’Shoulda been there.”

Cole would have rather ended his life than be around these idiots for longer than he has to now. “Yeah. Should’ve.” It was the alternative, though, to making out with Ben Anderson in his dressing room. Every single option felt like a fever dream.

Joanne, the youngest of them all, is silent, though Cole doesn’t need his stupid glasses to know why. Bloody Mary is a terror to most, the goddamn poster child for Vought Guard Dog in the same way that Soldier Boy is Vought’s special snowflake.

Obsidian and Stratostorm are still chatting in loud whispers behind Cole, with the occasional chime-in from Liberty. Still, though, there’s no sign of the man of the hour, and Cole can’t help but wonder if he ditched — and if somehow, he’s gonna find a way to flip the blame onto him.

Legend walks onto the stage, and the room’s buzz of chatter dies into soft murmurs of intrigue and interest. Here’s the man who manages the Six’s shit — or really just covers their asses. To these people, though, he must seem like a god instead of just a glorified public relations manager and string puller.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he starts into the rectangular microphone braced on the podium, “it is with great honor to announce to you the safe return of our Soldier Boy, and along with him, the end of the war.”

The room erupts into applause. Cole’s already bored, having heard variations of this speech in mindless gossip around the city and straight from the war-ender himself. “It’s another great honor to announce the attendance of the Six with us tonight—” A bright white spotlight bursts above them, illuminating the five of them, drawing the attention of every pampered head in the room. “All here to celebrate the re-arrival of leader Soldier Boy.”

Cole wanted to tell him that Soldier Boy couldn’t lead a duck to water, but whatever. He didn’t care that much. He cared more about the notable absence of Soldier Boy, knowing that the man wouldn’t ever miss an opportunity to hear about his accomplishments. His skin is crawling with unease over the unknowns that keep building up.

“Dim that shit,” Obsidian says again under his breath, “I haven’t seen the light of day in months. I’m going to fucking burst.”

Cole’s eyes roll. Not that he was listening to Legend rattle on about the united front that was supposed to be the Six — checkmate to Allie for having guessed that part of this speech right — but he was a little preoccupied trying to find someone. Someone who he’d made out with in his dressing room. Fuck.

Still, he glances up into the light, used to the way bright things burn his retinas at this point, as he turns the brightness down a few notches. Murmurs erupt in an undercurrent of sound beneath Legend’s speech. Cole doesn’t bother listening in to hear what they might be saying.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Legend says suddenly to an equally silent ballroom, “Soldier Boy.”

The answer to Ben’s initial question when he’d walked into Cole’s dressing room was, yes, this was killing him. Celebrating someone that he hated and that hated him was a great feat. Still, he can’t deny the rush of relief that floods his veins at the fact that Soldier Boy was up there, even if it meant that the room was deafening with their equal relief.

Klara leads the five of them around the back wall while they’re all distracted by whatever the hell Ben is saying — war talk, Cole imagines, or whatever war stories Ben can conjure up to make him look like God’s greatest gift.

The open space on the right of the stage was for them. To stand and be gawked at like zoo animals. Cole was already counting the seconds to when he could leave and slam a dirty martini or twelve.

“Now would be a good time,” Joanne whispers without moving her mouth much, her words slurring through her razor sharp teeth, “to unshackle Obsidian.”

A rare joke — rare words — from her. Cole can’t help but quirk a smile. She’s too young to be reduced to silence like she’s been. It wasn’t her fault people were scared of her.

“Strato’s got the key.” Obsidian jerks his head slightly in Stratostorm’s direction.

Stratostorm is less subtle with his reactions, head swiveling back and forth between the two of them, before his eyes land on Cole. He thinks, at least. The visor over his eyes makes it hard to tell. “I do not have the key.”

“What?” Obsidian splutters out, clearing his throat to try and cover it when the sound echoes off of the walls of the stage. Cole can’t help the burst of laughter that breaks free from his throat. Obsidian’s chains rattle in his outrage, bound wrists flailing at his waist, out of sight. “You fucking promised you wouldn’t lose it, you said—”

Their argument falls to the backburner of Cole’s mind, though, because his eyes make their way over to Ben at the podium, only to find him already looking at him on his strut to join them. Legend’s taking the podium again.

Ben settles next to Cole, arms deliberately not touching. Cole’s eyes dance to the ceiling, asking gods that long abandoned them for some strength. Then at the spotlights, dimming them, too — the last thing he wants is more attention on him than necessary while his face is red hot.

“What happened in—”

“Didn’t fucking happen,” Cole cuts him off, eyes straight ahead still, jaw ticking. “Don't Need your orders. Already got it.”

“Good.”

The rest of their time onstage, Cole doesn’t remember. He’s sure he blacked out in his efforts to ignore Ben right next to him— the heat of his body rolling off in waves. At some point, they were dismissed, and Cole went straight to the first server he saw, taking two martinis off of his tray without a second thought.

What he really needed was a cigarette. He gave himself ten minutes, though, before he excused himself from whatever useless conversation the equally useless politician had dragged him into. He really fucking hated these things.

Ben catches up to him before he can push open the exit door behind the stage, hoping for some semblance of illusion of privacy. Cole bristles, his fists clenching at his sides. “Don’t,” Ben grits out, his face unreadable and brutish at once.

“Fuck you, Ben,” he spits out, his eyes rolling instantly as if it was just second nature, dismissing any and every word out of his mouth, “I’m actually, physically and mentally, sick of your shit tod—”

“Can you shut the fuck up and listen for a second?” Ben snaps, eyes locked onto Cole’s and haunted. The sight of it is the only thing that snaps his mouth shut. “I’m being fucking serious. Don’t go out there.”

Cole has no other choice than to bite. “Why?”

“Obsidian’s dead.”

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tags: @jasvtsc @depressionbarbie2023 @deanswidow @titsout4nicholas (idk who else to tag the day i'm BLANKING i make a taglist is the day i'll see heaven)

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