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cthulhuliet · 4 years ago

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my high hopes (are getting low)

3.9k words [total 13k words] (part one) (part two) (part three) | AO3 Link | warnings: homophobia, use of slurs, dubious morality, completely unnecessary religious references, implied/referenced self-harm

'Cause my High hopes are getting low because these people are so old The way they think about it all If I tried I would never know

Light Yagami's world view is shifted after a conversation with his father concerning L's sexuality. Anger in his veins and unconfessed feelings bubbling to the surface, Light and L enact a plan of revenge against the homophobic views of the task force.

Out of the task force headquarters for the first time in months brought him a certain amount of joy, an extreme weight of his chest- or rather weight off his wrist. With his memories back, himself and Misa cleared of any suspicions thanks to the fake rules he constructed in the Death Note, Light had won.

Of course, there was still much work that needed to be done. This roadblock had lasted longer than Light wanted or anticipated, but no matter. To achieve everything the world needed was going to take time and effort- time and effort that he alone could commit to. He needed to be rid of L as well. Foolish, stupid Misa forgot his name, so that was simply another obstacle he would need to pass. But no matter, tonight was for celebration.

The celebration at a bar only miles away from task force headquarters is not exactly where he would have chosen, but Ryuzaki insisted that if the task force were going out into the public to to celebrate they were to not stray far from headquarters. Light idly looked around the lowlights of the bar, shaking his head into his beer. He wouldn’t be surprised if L had every shop within a 5 mile radius littered with cameras and bugs.

“Attention everyone,” Soichiro stood up, hold his glass out to the detectives, “I would like to make a toast: this is to all your hard work, the long hours, the uncertainty of tomorrow, the progress we made, and-” He pointedly looked at Light , “To the clearing of names.” He raised his glass, “To Light!”

“To Light!” The detective’s echoed, Matsuda softly clapping, and Aizawa giving him a sock to the arm.

“How’s it feel to be a free man?” His father asked, eyes shining behind his glasses.

Light chuckled, “Father, this is the best I have felt in a long time,”

“Here, here!” Mogi agreed.

“Fresh air, sun on your face,” Matsuda mused, “Boy, that Ryuzaki really doesn’t get out much, does he?”

“Can you imagine him coming out to a bar like this, or even a restaurant or gym?”

“No wonder he is so skinny,”

“And pale,”

Light shook his head, “Hey now, no need for any of that,” He took a quick sip of his beer, “You guys may know him, but I was chained to Ryuzaki, ok? Talk to me when you get kicked in the face by him,” The table roared with laughter, Light smirked to himself. “Might just get a kick of PTSD when I eventually do get to cuff Kira,”

Soichiro shook his head, smiling, “We are closer than ever, I can feel it. The real Kira is in our grasp, now that we are all cleared,”

Light huffed dryly, “Well, some of us aren’t fully in the clear,”

Soichiro sighed, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. Light looked into his father’s eyes: determination but exhaustion were swimming behind his pupils- Light hates L for causing his father so much stress. Even the hardest working, most respectable men need time stress free. God himself created a day of rest for a reason.

“Ryuzaki will come around, I am sure of it,” He idly scratched the stubble on his cheek, eyes on Light but mind elsewhere, “I am not exactly sure what more proof he needs… The young man’s pride is getting in the way of his deductive skills,”

“He did say at one point he did want Light to be Kira…” Matsuda chimed it.

“Precisely,” Soichiro took a long drink, “He will come around, I am sure of it. I mean, look at us now. Even a few weeks ago, and outing such as this was completely out of the realm of possibilities,”

“I am more surprised Ryuzaki himself didn’t come with us just to keep tabs on what we are talking about,”

“Matsuda, you are insane if you believe that he wouldn’t find out some way or another,”

“Ahh, yeah. A small part of me wishes Ryuzaki would come out with us, though. I do have to admit that I am mildly curious as to what he would drink,” Matsuda shrugged.

Soichiro grunted, shaking his head, “I am sure each of us wishes that we knew Ryuzaki just a little bit more. We simply have to make our own interpretations based upon the small bits of information and hints he drops us,”

Light nodded, a small smile on his face, “That man would probably be an even longer investigation than the Kira one,”

The table nodded, but Aizawa drummed his finger on the table, “You guys say that, but I already know everything that I need to know about that little freak,”

Aizawa took a long sip of his whiskey, the detective’s eyes narrow and angry. It had been obvious to most of the task force that he never liked Ryuzaki: Aizawa’s short temper and L’s aloofness often clashed, but there also seemed to be something else bubbling under the surface- and itch that needed some sort of external validation to be scratched.

“What do you mean, Aizawa?” Light probed the detective. If he for some reason and somehow got more information about L…

Aizawa looked around, now holding the full attention of the table in the palm of his hand. He rubbed behind his earlobe, his voice sharp and intense, “I was talking with Wedy and Aiber after the arrest of Higuchi. Just idly chatting. I was curious about their history with Ryuzaki. What kind of criminal would endear themselves to the most prolific detective? When did they even get close enough to be on call for him?” Aizawa idly cracked his knuckles, looking down at the stain wood of the table, recounting the events from that night, “It seems as though those two know Ryuzaki better than we do,”

Light’s skin felt as though it was on fire. He had never had much interest in the detective, but his attention was solely focused on Aizawa. Whatever it was, whatever Aizawa found out from the two con-artists, he simply had to know, his need and curiosity were going to burn him alive if the normally straight-forward cop didn’t speak faster.

“What did you find out,” Soichiro frowned, “Like, his history or name or something,”

Light wanted to scream.

Aizawa shook his head, sipping the brown liquid, “No. Nothing like that, just some taboo information that our good friend Ryuzaki opted not to tell us,”

Matsuda frowned, “Taboo?”

“Yeah,” He scoffed, tapping the glass with the palm of his finger- eyes hard and jaw set. His eyes quickly darted from one side of the nearly empty bar to the other, now staring down his whiskey. “Let’s just say,” He spoke in a low voice, “I am certainly glad Ryuzaki doesn’t go to the gym. I would pity any man who had to share a locker room alone with him.” Aizawa threw the rest of his drink down his throat and loudly set the empty glass on the table, the silence thick and palpable.

No one said anything for a long time. No one moved their drinks or spoke. Light looked down at the table, eyes hard, waiting for someone to break the silence; someone had to release him from this torture, and he couldn’t be the one to speak up.

When Soichiro scoffed, picking up his glass, all eyes turned to him, “Well. I can’t say I am surprised,” He grumbled. The rest of the squad nodded in agreement, all going back to their idle actions.

“I mean, I always had my suspicions,” Matsuda said, “He is a pretty weird guy and something always seemed a bit off when we were alone together. I just chalked it up to Ryuzaki being Ryuzaki but now that I know- like I know ...” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, “Uck… I need to go home and have a shower,”

Soichiro then locked eyes with Light, “Light, if that Ryuzaki ever made a pass at you or made you feel-”

“Father, I promise you everything was fine,” Light muttered, responding to his father but his head was elsewhere, “I never even knew, or considered it a possibility, actually,”

Aizawa frowned, tapping the table harshly with his index finger, “With the chain, when you had to shower, or use the restroom, what did you even-”

“There was a hook in the bathroom, so there was at least some semblance of privacy,” Light opted to keep the fact that there were cameras covering every inch of the bathroom to himself.

Soichiro seemed unsatisfied with that answer, “I was never a fan of that chain situation, none of us were, but we all trusted Ryuzaki. Now- now that I know my son was chained for months on end to some pervert…” He steady his rising voice but Soichiro was gripping his glass so hard, Light was worried it would shatter under his hold.

“It is just wrong,” Aizawa chimed in, Mogi nodding along, unenthusiastically, “Morally, completely wrong.”

“Here, here,” Matsuda echoed, cheerlessly. “Those are the kinds of people Kira should take care of,”

Light’s eyes widened, shaking his head, “Matsuda, don’t talk like that,”

Aizawa shook his head, a short emotionless laugh was followed with an omission from the other detective. “This may just be the whiskey talking, but instead of FBI agents and business men, maybe Kira could work on keeping those kinds of people out of society. I don’t need queers around, I have 2 kids,”

Soichiro nodded, “It is a pity. Can’t imagine how Ryuzaki’s parent’s must feel. Maybe they know and that’s why he is the way he is,”

“Pity the pair of them,”

“Yeah,”

Light said nothing. Soichiro continued, “Glad I don’t have to worry about that. Sayu talks about that Hideki Ryuga on too many occasions to count, and that Ms. Amane is more than treating Light here well,”

Eyes hard set on his Father, Light asked his dad a question that had been on the tip of his tongue since Aizawa’s information had been revealed. “Father, what would you do if-”

Cutting him off, Soichiro looked at Light seriously, “If that happened, I wouldn’t need some magical notebook. I’d take my marksman training and deal with it myself,”

Light smiled, chuckling, “Of course, Father,”

Light’s fingernails were gripping the inside of his palm, the force at which was nearing the point of drawing blood. He was doing his best to remain cool and collected, but the more the men talked the more his anger was becoming all consuming: a threat that was rearing its ugly head and threatening to crawl out of his throat with an ear splitting cry of rage.

“I think I need the restroom,” Light stood up stiffly, 4 pairs of concerned eyes on him. He gave them a curt nod, “Gentlemen,” And walked quickly to the other side of the bar.

The restroom was a unisex single stall that Light opened with more forced then neccesarry and locked the door. He stumbled over to the sink, switching it on the coldest setting. Balling up his fists, he slammed them down onto the dirty ceramic, a frustrated cry erupting from him.

“Son of a bitch!” Light choked out. Neat fingernails gripped the sides of the sink, chilling water splashing and threatening to soak the edges of Light’s expensive button up, but he barely noticed that fact, as he was mentally steeling himself to not allow the hot tears he felt bubbling to spill. Crying in any capacity was wasted energy, and even more so, he didn’t want to have to explain the tear tracks on his cheeks to any of his much older colleagues.

“Geez, you look like a mess,” A gravelly voice phased. Light looked in the mirror in front of him and saw Ryuk’s wide eyes staring back at his reflection.

Light scoffed, looking away from the mirror, “Welcome back, where have you been, Ryuk?”

Ryuk floated closer to the sink, casually wiggling his fingers, “I was nagging some cherries from the bartender. Not as good as apples but I’ll take what I can get,”

“Does fruit even taste different to Shinigamis?”

“Oi oi, what is that supposed to mean,” Ryuk frowned. Light shrugged his shoulders, sighing. Ryuk put a thumb to his chin, “It is clear I missed something. You going to fill me in, Light?”

For the first time since entering the bathroom, Light felt about 7% calmer. He took a deep breath, studying the brown eyes of his reflection. Still rimmed with red, but not nearly as dam breaking as before. He turned around to face the Shinigami, casually leaning against the sink, arms crossed.

“Aizawa just told me some information,”

“Eh?”

“Information about L,”

Ryuk laughed wildly. Flipping himself upside-down, he continued to cackle, “Isn’t that just interesting. What did he say? Is your plan going to be a little easier?”

Light crossed his arms, refusing to look at Ryuk’s animated movements, and instead inspected a cracked tile in the otherwise pristine floor, “No. Aizawa told me that L is gay,”

“Eh?” Ryuk flipped himself upright and stood on the floor normally, curiously looking at the human, “Well, I suppose that is fine… Though I guess that means it isn’t with you. I didn’t realise that you were uh, what’s the human word for it...” Ryuk scratched his hair, and Light quirked up an eyebrow, “Oh. Didn’t know you were homophonic,”

Light frowned, “What?”

“Homophonic. You don’t like gay people,”

Running a hand through his hair Light sighed, “It is homophobic, not homophonic. Homophonic has to do with music,” Light turned back to the water that was still running and rolled up his sleeves, idly washing his hands, “I didn’t think you would get this much stupider after being away from me for so long,”

Ryuk defensively put his hands up, talking to Light’s reflection, “Hey, don’t look at me. You humans are the weird ones, making up gender and sex and all these words we don’t have in the Shinigami realm. It’s confusing sometimes, ok?” Light didn’t respond as he pulled some paper towels from the holder and dried his hands, “Either way, I didn’t know you were homophobic. Hyuk, probably makes you want to kill L more, doesn’t it,”

Light’s eyes flashed red, and in an instant, he kicked the plastic bin across the room in a blind rage of fury, “Of course it doesn’t!” Dried towels littered the ground, Ryuk slapping one away from himself as it floated onto his shoulder, “But apparently if you don’t fit into the perfect straight mold that we have been told, all morals go out the window!” His back hit the wall, and Light sunk down onto the floor, Ryuk still standing in shock, “All of the detectives out there said that they would want to rid the world of anyone who was different. No matter how hard working, or what they do, or how much they are worth to society, if you don’t fit that mold, you are better off dead. They said they L would be better off dead, that-” He paused, picking at a loose string on his pants, tugging on it and idly throwing it away, “My own father said he would kill me,”

Ryuk stood next to Light in stunned silence, only a couple times before had he seen the man lose his temper and each time he was unsure of how to respond to it. He began picking up the towels littered on the ground, “So, Light, are you saying that you’re…”

Chuckling dryly, Light shook his head, “I thought this kind of thing didn’t matter to Shinigamis?”

“No, but it matters to you humans. Besides, this is very interesting,”

Light rested his head against his knees, staring at the crack in the tile again, “I don’t want to label myself, not really. Like you said, it is a dumb human thing.” Biting his thumbnail, Light thought for a moment about what he wanted to say, “I was about 13 when I realised I couldn’t relate to my friends. I thought I was smarter than them for not caring about kissing girls and spin the bottle. I pretty much wrote off relationships altogether. It wasn’t until Misa that I realised what was wrong,”

“Eh? Misa?”

“Yeah, I know,” A rare smile formed on Light’s face. Rare because he was talking about Misa, someone who he regarded as one of the banes of his existence, “She was rambling on one day, and told me that she also likes girls in the way she likes me. Granted, she immediately went on to say she would never leave me, and we were soulmates, but those words kept me up because I never even realised it was an option.

“I did some research and some of the greatest minds on Earth were also queer in some capacity. Alan Turing, Julius Caesar, Ihara Saikaku- all great people who made waves in history. And yet,” Light made fists with his hands, “Some people, some idiots would believe they were better off dead just because of who they choose to lay with.

“I may have a personal bias, but if the Gods never cared about gender and sex, then why would I when passing judgement? You said it yourself, Ryuk: it is merely a human constructed concept. I am far above viewing people as just that. It is simply an aspect of yourself, not who you are. Your actions are far more important. Be a useful, moral member of society and why does it matter who you sleep with?”

Ryuk finished cleaning up the towels and sat on the floor across from Light, “Heh, and the detectives don’t share that same sentiment?”

“Yeah,” Light’s voice dripped with venom, “They told all of us multiple times to not pass judgement off of one action, and yet my father said he would put a gun to my head and if I kissed a boy he would shoot me dead,”

Ryuk tilted his head to the side, “Guess we finally found the greyness in your morality,” He cackled wildly, but Light was not amused.

Light sat up straight, looking Ryuk straight into his eyes, “I don’t need those kinds of people in my world,” He spoke with finality, and tapped open the secret compartment of his watch, the small corner piece of the Death Note blank and ready for him.

“Light, wait,” Ryuk’s eyes widened and he took a couple steps towards him, towering over Light. He frowned, red anger brewing in his pupils, “I am not supposed to help, not really, but please think, ok? For one, this is your father we are talking about, you can’t-”

“Ryuk, he said he would kill me!” Light stood up and shouted, all care for staying calm left him, “He said I would be better off dead, how am I supposed to take that?”

“Alright,” He responded, the almost 7 foot Shinigami felt very small all the sudden, “What about this? You and the task force leave headquarters for the first time in months. You disappear to the bathroom and all the task force is dead except for you. What conclusion is L going to draw from that, hm?”

Light threw his pen across the room, hitting and marking the wall it connected with, “So what should I do, then, huh? Just let them all walk around, making judgements about those who didn’t do anything?” He made fists with his hands, not paying any attention to pain, fury and rage was all Light felt now. Drops of blood trickled down his palm and under his nails- he finally broke the skin. “They don’t deserve any of that, so why did my father say that? Why do they get to decide what is moral? Where is the justice for them!” His breath got more and more ragged, to the point of hyperventilation. Light suddenly felt very, very dizzy.

When he was a young child, after he just learned how to swim, Light would go off the diving board and teeter at the edge of it, testing gravity. Challenging it. He wanted to fly. He thought he could cheat it somehow. If he ran quick enough, if he closed his eyes, if he acted casual as he stepped off the board, but everytime the wind on his face and the unforgiving coldness of the pool water let him know that Light had failed. Getting the Death Note was the closest he felt to defying gravity. Light could step off the board now and simply float; floating high above the gravity that pulled him down, and high above the water that wanted to engulf him.

However, for the first time since he got the Note, Light was no longer floating: Light was drowning. Gravity was forcing him underwater, suffocating him. It was filling up his lungs and choking him. Is this the grim misfortune that Ryuk said to him? Is this how it feels like to be held underwater- thrashing and crying and begging for the element to relent? To release it’s hold and breathe? Light can’t imagine the real thing feeling any other way.

A knock on the door brought Light back to land. He stayed silent as he listened to the voice outside the door, “Light? You doing ok in here? Your dad is worried about you and…”

Matsuda trailed off. Light paused for a moment, and walked himself to the other side of the bathroom, raising his voice, “Yeah, I am ok. Just, uh, the drink I had before the beer was pretty strong, and I didn’t eat beforehand so, uh, y’know,”

“Oh, are you ok?”

“Yeah,” Light struggled to keep his voice even.

“Something always seemed a bit off when we were alone together…”

“I am all good, Matsuda,”

“Uck… I need to go home and have a shower…”

“I appreciate your concern,”

Matsuda stayed silent for a minute before responding, “We are about to head out. Do you want us to wait or-”

“Go on ahead,” Light responded immediately, “I’ll get Watari to call me a car or something,”

Matsuda sighed, “As long as you are sure, but just let someone know when you get back. I’ll tell Soichiro you aren’t feeling well,”

Light listened to the detective’s retreating footsteps. He closed the lid on the toilet and put his head in his hands, “I want to kill them,” Ryuk cackled wildly, causing Light to look up, “What? Unless you have something helpful to contribute I-”

Ryuk floated, spinning himself above Light, “You could kill them, that is easy. Killing is like breathing to you, Kira,” He laughed again, “But trust me when I say that there are much more creative, much more fun forms of punishment,”

Light’s interest was piqued, he looked at the Shinigami with curiosity, “What exactly are you thinking?”

Shrugging, he began to phase through the wall, “I am not going to tell you what to do, that is all up to you, Light. However-” Ryuk’s head was all that was remaining in the room, a smile even more wicked than his usual one plastered on his face, “-maybe you should talk to your pal, L, about what you learned today,”

Cackling, Ryuk left the room, but Light alone with his thoughts. It didn’t even take 3 minutes for Light to come up with a plan.

#death note #light yagami #l lawilet #lawlight #my writing #dn #death note fanfiction #I am actually really excited about it!!#kind of proud of myself ngl #I hope you guys enjoy!!! pls let me know!!!#there is more to come

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catcatb0y · 3 years ago

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How are you gonna tell me my race? I bet you’re white. Stay in your place and shut up. I never said anyone was desperate, that was the other anon, how dumb can you be? And I never said he was straight. I said he wasn’t gay. Because he’s not. What is not comprehending for you stupid fucks? You guys are STILL talking about and are STILL CRYING about the situation when it was over HOURS ago. Shut up about it already. If you’re mad he’s not gay, just say so. Anyways, I don’t wanna argue with a person who dyes their whole head rainbow and stereotypes peoples costumes and the way they stand/act. So fuck off. And get over the situation, it’s getting tired.

I didn't know pussy/asshole/dipshit/etc. were races but thank you for informing me!

And maybe it WAS the other anon, okay, but the thing is: you all look and sound the same! You're all preaching the SAME bland points!

You, and several people like you, all wearing the same little "anonymous" face have been tormenting this little group of people for the past three fucking days.

This is not, and has never been about: race, sexuality, stereotypes, or any of that shit. It's about treatment of REAL PEOPLE over FICTIONAL CHARACTERS.

Glad you came off anon to say "I'm not like the other guys!" too bad none of us could tell yall apart!

For your information, I love being able to color my hair. Yeah, it's rainbow, because I got it done for Pride month. Want to know why I got it done? Because I have had my identity pushed aside and ignored. If I had a dime for every time I've heard someone close to me say "I'm not homophobic, but" or tell me that they "don't mind gay people, they just don't like it being shoved down their throat." I've been called 'just quirky' and 'eccentric' and 'a free spirit' by people trying to avoid the fact that I'm QUEER. I am not cis or het!

Also? There are SO many minorities that can't just "blend in." So many people face ableism, racism, sexism, and shit because of the way they look. There are people that are AFRAID of loving who they love or being who they are.

I am loud because they cannot be. I keep my Queerness displayed, so that I may face the same disdain that they do. I keep my Queerness on display so that no one ever tells me "but you don't look gay."

And I do it because it's fun.

Which, yes, I joke about Bakugou "standing gay" or "dressing gay," and, if he were a REAL person, I wouldn't do that.

But he's a CHARACTER. Characters get CODED, characters get HINTED, characters ACT.

Like, buddy, no offense, but WRITERS write characters based on stereotypes at least a little. Bakugou acts like a vaguely effeminate gay man sometimes. Is it a stereotype? Yeah, absolutely, and an annoying one at that; but gay people like that do exist. And, as he is not a real person, we can't ask him about his sexuality.

We, as most of us are and do, just look at him and go haha same bestie, work it.

And the way he dresses, you realize toxic masculinity is a thing, right? That a lot of straight guys are scared to act or to dress eccentric and/or effeminate because of stereotypes?

A lot of gay people are typically more eccentric and/or open with the way they dress and act, and most of us who look at Bakugou (and others) just say: haha same gay to gay communication.

Do you want to like?? Go back and post all of your asks while off anon?? So we can have a talk?? Or do you want to dig through my blog where I make queer jokes to my queer friends about telepathic gay communication?

None of us have entered ANY of your spaces, and ALL of us have our blogs perfectly out on display. Sorry you were confused with the anon who couldn't comprehend bisexuality? Sorry you were confused with the multiple asks that used the word "desperate"? Sorry you were confused with that one anon that used their skin color as a "defense" because "they couldn't be racist, they are black" (when internalized racism exists, for one, and literally none of us have brought race into the discussion).

I'm sorry that ME standing up for MY FRIENDS who are getting BASELESSLY HARRASSED by SEVERAL people is somehow offensive to you, who could have just minded your own business. Maybe could have not hid behind an anon. Maybe you could have not sent an ask to a blog that very clearly talks about Bakugou and Midoriya being gay.

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eyeballjazz · 4 years ago

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A friend recommend your content and first of all: you're an amazing artist and writer. I've been binge-reading all your fics on AO3 and it's the most fun/wholesome content I had in months ♡

Second: since you're one of the few people I found that still actively creates content for SSDD I have to ask: how do you think they dealt with their feelings for each other? Slick is a dense mf and Droog is a homophobic gay so I cannot imagine how they found out their feelings were reciprocated.

Anyway, thank you for your amazing content. Big fan!!

#1: Thank you so much, you’re so sweet! It’s a pleasure writing this stuff and I’m so glad to share it. After everything the past year has put us through I’m very glad to make things that make people laugh so hearing that it’s working is wonderful!

The second part runs long so I’m tucking it but if you’re into SSDD I recommend it highly:

#B: I think of their partnership as a love between two men who are the same type of extremely emotionally unavailable and inarticulate, to the point that the only son of a bitch on Earth who can speak their awful language is one another. They’re on the same wavelength in so many regards, between predilections for violence, anti-social behavior, pure stupidity and pride, that they make perfect partners whether it’s platonic or romantic. And, hell, if it’s romantic it’s gay so that’s just bonus points on top, right? For me the funnier thing is for them to be extremely in tune with one another and communicative in their own terrible ways. They have a steady, supportive relationship and volatile, argumentative, emotionally and sexually charged rows with one another every other week.

I’ve already talked about my ideas for their wedding, and a bit about proposals, but as confessions go I like to think it was the work of many years. They knew each other through wartime (most 20′s gangsters were Doughboys and saw battle in trench warfare so they got real jacked up, I particularly like this angle for these two meeting as soldiers in an awful war cut off from their lives back home) and developed a very strong connection the way soldiers do. Then it turned into mutual benefit when they came home and went into business as crimesters. All the while they stay tight as co-conspirators, social descendants, DEEP misanthropes, and their partnership leads to them being the most important person in one another’s life.

Then a wormhole opens up in front of them and shoots a couple babies into their arms and, la, they start claiming dependents on their taxes and Droog sees an opening to finally ask Slick to marry him for a totally legal non-gay reason.

#ss/dd #spades slick/diamonds droog #slick/droog #the intermission #anon you're so fucking sweet i screenshotted your ask first and then sat here a while thinking up all this #they're not even my boys but they are very good in their own licoricey way #Anonymous #ssdd #ddss

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glitterslag · 5 years ago

Text

First Time for Everything - Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: In which Roger inadvertently becomes co-parent to a four year old before he’s even finished university. Oh, and he loses his virginity in the process.

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: single mum, broken family, bad relationships with parents, difficult sexual themes, period typical attitudes, homophobic language, poverty, some angst. Smut (virgin!roger, oral - male and female receiving -whipped cream), some language

A/N: First of all I wanna say thank u to the absolute lejond who requested this: you really unearthed a kink I didn’t know I had.

This, as usual, has turned into a bit of a Whole Other Thing. I’ve wanted to do a single mum oneshot for a while, and thought it would go really well with virgin Rog. Plus Roger with a toddler = automatic cuteness.

As y’all know I struggle with writing smut, and so I tend to quit while I’m ahead. Because of that, I’ve only included oral, and not the whole shebang. Plus, I felt like it was in keeping with the tone when Roger finds himself a bit overwhelmed with all the new sensations. I think we’d all agree that that still counts as losing virginity, though.

I’ve got to say I’m really proud of this. I think it might be one of my favourite things I’ve written since “Funny How Love Is”. It would be great if you could give it the same kind of feedback 🥰🥰

Enjoy xo

★★★★★

You had Robbie at sixteen.

Your parents sent you away to a Catholic institution for the duration of your pregnancy, as people often did back then, such was the scandal of being found out pregnant and not married. They had wanted you to give him up for adoption when he was born but you refused, and after meeting her grandson, your mother had relented.

They’d given you a little money to set yourself up, but insisted that you couldn’t stay with them. Too much shame on the family. You sometimes speak to them on the phone but it’s always strained, especially between you and your mother, and you always end the phone call feeling just a little sad, and empty.

Now twenty, your little boy is nearly four, and you’re living in a box flat in a tower-block in the middle of London. Roger’s just moved in next door.

He’s a student, just moved out of halls, making him the same age as you. It’s a strange realisation, to look at him. Realising that your life could have turned out a lot differently, had Robbie never been born.

You’re expecting him not to be very nice. People usually aren’t, not to a young single mother. Not one whose dye-job comes out of a packet, and who lets her four-year-old tricycle up and down the wooden hallway at all hours of the day. But he’s positively lovely.

That’s what Robbie’s doing, when Roger moves in.

“S’cuse me, little man.” He says, holding a cardboard box aloft as he waits patiently for your son to get out of his road. “That looks fun.”

And then:

“Hello,” he’s saying to you.

You feel him check you out, eyes travelling from your face down and then back up, and then back down again, all the way this time. The routine you know too well. You get it from nearly every man you meet. He doesn’t leer at you like most men, though, and you think to yourself that that’s something.

“Get out of the man’s way, Robbie.”

“Is your big sister bossy?” Roger asks him knowingly.

You swallow and start to say something.

“She’s not my sister, she’s my mummyyy!” Robbie declares before you can, throwing his hands up in the air.

You laugh and scoop him up. There would come a time when he might not be as proud to say that about you anymore, but for now, he would remain blissfully unaware that his unmarried twenty year old mummy wasn’t supposed to have a three year old baby.

Roger looks at you hard for a second, and you cuddle Robbie to your chest as you wait for his response, almost using him as a shield in in between the two of you, nervous. But there’s no need to be.

“Oh. Sorry.” He says easily, quickly disguising any judgement with a sunny smile. He sticks his hand out. “I’m Roger. How do you do?”

★★★★★

Over the months, you two develop a close neighbourly relationship. He comes over to fix your leaky taps, change lightbulbs, rewire the smoke alarm. As you get to know and trust him more, you eventually entrust him with Robbie some afternoons when you have appointments – doctors and dentists, things you can’t avoid.

One day, Roger’s complaining about his hair becoming too long and his roots showing and so on, and so you offer to do it for him, free of charge, as a favour. He says yes.

If he’s feeling dubious, he never shows it.

You come over that afternoon armed with all your gear, and when he opens the door Robbie charges past him shouting “Rogerrrrrrr!”, disappearing into the flat before Roger can even say hello.

“Have you got an old t shirt you don’t mind getting ruined?” You ask, eyeing the silky button up Roger’s wearing halfway undone to his belly button.

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll go and get changed.”

The door to his room is open a fraction, and you peep through the crack as you watch him pull his shirt over his head and search for another one. He’s standing with his back to the door, and you admire his wiry physique, lean muscle rippling as he shrugs on a faded old Breakaways t shirt. You snap out of it before he can notice, and busy yourself corralling an excitable Robbie, setting him up at the kitchen table with his crayons and his juice.

You pull on washing up gloves and bleach Roger’s dark roots first, making sure not to get it on the ends and frazzle them.

“How’d you get so good at this, anyway?” He wonders as he watches you loading the product onto the brush in his bedroom mirror.

“My housing benefits don’t exactly cover trips to the hairdressers.” You say, gesturing towards your own bottle blonde head. “How light do you want to go?”

You show him the colour chart on the back of the packet, and he calls you “very professional”, about which you’re pleased.

You notice the crack in his bathroom window as you take him through to wash his hair, covered over with an old Woolies bag but still leaking freezing air into the flat. You don’t say anything.

You make him sit on the floor with his back to the tub, leaning his head back as you support it in one cupped hand, using the other to angle the shower head over his hair.

“Just like a real salon.” He quips, and you grin.

You massage the shampoo into his hair and he groans in relaxation.

“I love having people play with my hair.”

Maybe it’s because you’ve not had any action for such a long time, but the noise does something to you.

You dry him off and then it’s time to cut. You trim his fringe last, squatting down in front of him and frowning with the concentration of trying to cut straight, and you’re a bit nervous being this close to him. He keeps making silly faces to put you off, though, and soon he’s got you giggling like no one else can.

You gently blow all the hair off the back of his neck and he lets out another little strangled moan.

”Sorry” he says quickly, embarrassed. “Jus’ tickled is all.” You bite your lip.

“Right, of course.”

★★★★★

The next day you see him in the foyer when you’re both down checking the post. You compliment him on his new hair, and he tells you he’s been thinking.

“You should cut people’s hair in the tower block.”

“What?”

That boy has had a few crazy ideas since you’ve known him, but this has to take first prize.

“It’d be cheaper than going to the hairdressers.” He points out. “Plus you’re really good at it, you could make good money.”

“What would I do with Robbie?”

“Well you’d be doing it at home, wouldn’t you? He’d be there.” He says, matter-of-factly.

“Or..”

He trails off.

“What?”

“Or I could take him. While you’ve got appointments.”

You gape at him.

“I- I could make you some posters to put up if you like?” He continues when you don’t say anything. “There’s a photocopier at uni I could use. Use it to make stuff for the band all the time. ”

Perhaps against your better judgement, you reach over and hug him. He feels warm and solid, smells clean and good and you realise you’re welling up.

“Thanks, Rog.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He says, using his Robbie voice on you.

“No need to get upset.”

“I love you.” You mumble.

Maybe you hadn’t realised it before, but it’s true. The boy’s gold.

He puts his hand on the back of your head, stroking your hair.

“Love you too, darling.”

★★★★★

He comes over one night to borrow flour.

He’s started letting himself in at this point, using the spare key you’d given him “for emergencies only”. He always knocks to announce himself first, but you can guarantee he’ll be strolling in like he owns the place whether he gets an answer or not.

“Where’s the tyke?” He wonders when there’s a distinct lack of “ROGERR!” the second he walks through the door.

“Started at nursery this week.” You announce proudly.

“Christ.”

“Yeah.”

“Nursery.” He repeats.

“Yeah.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

“Christ.”

You can only grin back, chest puffed out with pride.

Anyway, he needs plain flour.

“Since when do you cook?” You ask sceptically, raising an eyebrow at him from the sofa.

“Got a date tonight.” He grins.

“Ooo.” You say, setting your cup of tea down on the coffee table so you can turn yourself properly to face him. “Is it that girl?”

“Tracy, yeah. She’s coming to my place for dinner.”

“Big step.”

Roger hadn’t had a girlfriend for the time you’d known him, and at first you’d suspected him of being more of a one-and-done kind of guy. But even though he was often coming in late from the pub or the club or wherever, there had been surprisingly little activity of the female kind coming from within the walls of his flat at night.

“Yeah, well. We’ve been on a few dates so far and it’s gone well, so I thought I’d invite her over to mine, y’know. Take things to the next level.”

You try to hide your disappointment.

“So do you think tonight might be the night..?” you trail off, but Roger knows what you’re insinuating.

He grimaces.

“Maybe…”

“Maybe?” You repeat. “What do you mean?”

He looks hesitant.

“Look, if I tell you something, do you promise it won’t leave this room?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

“Do you swear?”

“Roger,” you begin. “I’m a single mother. I’m stuck inside all day and my only friends are my son, the woman at the post office who I go to collect get my benefits from, and you. Who am I going to tell?”

“Right, of course.” He nods, eyes closed. One of his hands is out on the kitchen table to steady himself, the other on his hip. He hasn’t been able to stand still since he walked through the door.

“What is it? Just tell me.”

He takes a deep breath, and then he lets out a big puff of air.

“I’ve never slept with anyone before.”

★★★★★

You fight to keep your expression neutral as you process what the hell he’s just said.

A virgin?

Him?

How was it possible?

Roger was the best looking man you knew, and the kindest. And it was obvious he was popular, especially with women. It just didn’t add up.

“You’re not saying anything.” Roger says nervously, and you blink up at him.

“I guess I’m just..” You search for the right word. “Surprised.”

He closes his eyes and nods in agreement.

“Roger, how?!”

It’s the only thing you can say at this point.

He huffs a laugh.

“Well, if I’m honest, I was never very popular in school.”

“You weren’t?”

“They, um,” he lowers his voice, as if someone might be listening. “They called me a poofter. And, erm… other things.”

“Oh.”

To be honest, it didn’t come as much of a surprise to you, that people had called him that. It was horrible, all the same, but not surprising.

In fact, there had been a while when you’d even wondered the same. It might explain his gentle nature, you’d thought, if he was gay, and the lack of dating, and the fact that he’d never tried anything on you, even though you’d been close now for such a long while.

Not that you were cocky - not anything of the sort, but still. Most men would try it on with you, and even though you mostly wished they wouldn’t, you couldn’t say it hadn’t hurt when Roger didn’t try to go there at all.

“Was never really into rugby or anything like that.” He explains. “I played tennis, and I was alright at football, but I was never on the team, or anything. They all - the other boys – they- they’d laugh at me. In the showers?”

The ends of his sentences are going up like questions, and he looks like he’s having a hard time swallowing. You wonder whether this speech is something he plays over in his head often.

Whether it helps him justify it to himself.

“For being skinny. Y’know? And I was always a head shorter than everyone else ‘til I was about 17.”

“I’m sorry, Rog.”

“And then by the time I got to uni, I’d lost my confidence, I suppose.” He says it with a sad laugh that makes your heart sink.

“And it wasn’t the flirting that was the problem. I’m good at that-”

“I don’t doubt it.” You cut in without thinking.

He looks at you for a moment and your cheeks heat up, and then he’s looking at the floor again.

“And, well, I just never actually got around to any of… that.”

He makes an airy gesture with his hand.

“Why don’t you just get drunk and do it?” You offer. “No one would know any different.”

“Nearly did a few times.” He admits. “But when it came to the crux of it, I just couldn’t go through with it. Too nervous about stuffing it up.”

He gives a watery laugh.

“Oh, Roger. Why didn’t you tell anyone how you felt? Girls would be understanding.”

“You might be,” he reminds you. “But not everybody. I just felt like they’d all laugh at me. It’s completely acceptable for a girl to still be a virgin at 18, 19 20. But a guy? It’s just embarrassing!”

“Well that’s just a double standard-“ You cut in.

“Do you not think I know that?!” He says in frustration, and you butt in again, before things can get too heated.

“Anyway.”

He looks up at you expectantly.

“What are you going to do?”

You mean about Tracy, but he takes it more generally.

“I don’t know.” He says miserably. “I guess I’ll just have to stay one forever, now. I mean it’s just too mortifying at this point-”

“Oh it’s not that bad Roger for goodness sake, don’t wallow in it.” You scold him. “At least you aren’t me.”

He’s taken aback somewhat by that.

“What on earth d’you mean?”

“Well it’s not as if I get any action, is it?”

Bless him, he’s really looking at you as if he has no idea. And you’d be flattered, maybe, if the whole thing wasn’t so exasperating. You try to explain.

“At least you didn’t do it once or twice when you were sixteen, be unlucky enough to fall pregnant and then get saddled with a kid.”

You say it through your teeth, glancing around as if Robbie might hear you all the way from nursery school.

“And now that’s gonna be me for the next eighteen years, isn’t it?” You say it with a laugh that all of a sudden feels too close to a sob. “Until he grows up. Moves out. And then I’ll be what? Nearly forty? All before my life can even start.”

“Hey, come on-” Roger’s saying, sounding like he’s regretting starting this whole conversation, but you’re on a roll now.

“And it’s not like I’ll ever get married now, is it?”

You smile sadly, looking out of the window instead of at Roger, because you’re afraid that if you look at him directly, you might cry. For some reason he seems to be have that effect on you.

“Shot that horse in the face when I split up with his father. And no one’s gonna want me with him are they?”

You jerk your head towards Robbie’s empty bedroom.

“Oh, love..”

“Jus’ baggage, isn’t it?” You mumble, head down, staring into the dregs at the bottom of your cup. “No-one wants used goods.”

You can see Roger’s face out of the corner of your eye. He looks so pained. You’re too afraid to look up.

“Or at least, they don’t want me for the right reasons.” You sniff and continue, face set hard. Determined not to crack and cry. “Some of ‘em just think single mums are these slags they can do anything they want to.”

“Hey, enough.” Roger says stiltedly, voice strained. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.” You insist. “That’s all they ever want me for. And all the ones who are any good are just put off by it. ”

You shrug and look out the window again, eyes fixed on the tower block opposite. There’s a woman in one of the windows, rocking her baby to sleep.

There’s nowhere else to look, so you just close your eyes.

“It doesn’t put me off.” Roger says in a small voice.

You hear him slowly coming over, feel the dip in the sofa cushion as he sits down next to you. He puts his hand on your knee.

“What d’you mean.” You say, forcing yourself to open your eyes and look up at him. His blue eyes blink earnestly back at you.

He takes a deep breath.

“All of that- it would never put me off from wanting to date you.”

Your mouth drops open.

“What?” You whisper. “Really?”

He nods, moving his face close to yours.

You can feel your heart in your mouth.

His hand is still resting on your knee. It’s burning a hole through your jeans.

“I would date you too, you know.”

He swallows.

“I guess we could both help each other out, then.” He says hoarsely.

His lips are inches from your own. You drag your eyes away from his to look down at them, pink and wet. Ready. You can feel his breath on your cheek.

All you would have to do is lean in, and his mouth would be on yours.

Just then, you hear a sudden knock at Roger’s front door out in the hallway, and you spring apart guiltily.

“That must be her.” You mutter, turning away from him.

Roger’s rubbing the back of his head.

“She’s early.”

You stand, taking your empty cup over to the sink. He stays where he is.

“You better go and answer her.”

“Wait-”

You shake your head, bending down to search through the cupboards as he slowly stands and comes up behind you.

You push the bag of flour into his chest. He stares down at it dumbly, barely remembering it was what he came in for.

Tracy knocks again.

“Good luck.” You swallow.

He nods faintly, looking so lost you have to turn back around again, pretending to be busy at the sink.

“Let me know how it goes.” You say over your shoulder as he leaves.

But you don’t want to know. Not even a little bit.

★★★★★

You manage to stop yourself from going round until after you’ve dropped Robbie off at nursery.

You’ve been dying to see Roger all morning, but you were worried that things might have gone well the night before, and Tracy might still be there. The prospect of walking in on something you didn’t want to see was enough to deter you until the afternoon. A stab of jealously twists at your gut just thinking about it.

“So,” you say apprehensively as you walk in. Roger looks around from where he’s standing at the stove. “Did you?”

He shakes his head.

You make a noise of dismay.

“What happened?”

“Bottled it.”

“Oh no!”

He nods, grinning bashfully.

“Well you’ll just have to do it next time.” You say, taking a seat at the kitchen table. You’re trying not to look too relieved.

“Not sure there��ll be one.” He says casually.

“Why?”

He scratches at the back of his head with the spatula. Something he only does when he’s nervous. His t shirt has ridden up at the bottom, exposing his soft tummy. You look away.

“What happened?” You press.

“Think she was starting to get the vibe I wasn’t interested.” He says quietly. “Just saw her as a friend.”

“Because you weren’t pestering her for sex on the third date?” You frown. “God what is she, a bloke?”

Roger laughs.

“Not… just because of that.” He says leadingly. Nervously?

What was up with him?

“Then what?”

He dumps his eggs onto a plate, scraping out the pan before he spins around to answer you. He takes a deep breath.

“Because I couldn’t stop talking about you.”

He says it quite earnestly, matter-of-factly, even, and you stare at him, studying his face for any sign of a joke. You find none.

You feel your entire body go warm.

“Let’s go on a date, then.” You whisper.

“Ok.”

He says it steadily. You’re fighting to stop your voice from shaking.

“When?”

“This Saturday.” He throws out, coming to sit down opposite you with his plate.

Scrambled eggs on toast, HP sauce splattered messily all over them. Just how he likes it.

“What would I do with Robbie?”

“Could you get your mum to look after him?”

You snort before he’s finished saying it.

“Unlikely, Rog.”

“Well could you get a babysitter?” He suggests, voice thick through a mouthful of eggs.

“That costs money, Roger.” You say patiently.

It’s hard for people who don’t have children to put themselves into your shoes. Thinking like that doesn’t come naturally to them. They aren’t used to having to automatically come up with the Reasons Why Not.

“We could just..” He waves his fork around. “Have one at home. Y’know, with him here.”

You scoff.

“Yeah. And what a great date that would be.”

“Well it would be.” Roger says. “Robbie’s my little mate.”

You smile at that.

“ ‘sides, it would be quiet without him around.”

“Yeah.” You say suddenly. “Yeah, it would, wouldn’t it?”

The smile’s growing on your face. He grins back.

“It’s settled, then.”

★★★★★

“Mummy’s going on a date, Robbie.” You say to him, playing with his toys at your feet as you get ready in front of the mirror.

“Date.” Robbie repeats back to you, smiling uncertainly. He doesn’t know what it means.

“Roger?” He says, looking up at you hopefully. You smile.

“Yes, that’s right. A date with Roger.” You say, and he gives you a toothy grin, placated. “What a clever boy you are.”

You’ve no idea what he’s cooking. He did pop round this morning to borrow an onion, but apart from that, you’ve no clue.

You’re nervous.

“ROGERRR!”

Robbie runs inside before you can say anything as usual, and it takes you a minute to notice Roger’s wearing a tie. Top three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned as always, but a tie all the same. And he’s combed his hair.

You’re touched by the effort he’s gone to.

“You look nice.” He comments, as he pulls the door back all the way to let you inside.

“Thanks. So do you.”

He’s got wine, and apple juice for Robbie. He’s made him fish fingers and potato smileys, and spaghetti Bolognese for the two of you. At your encouragement, he gives Robbie a little bit of spaghetti on his plastic plate (you’ve come with a bag full of his things so he doesn’t fuss about the disruption of his routine).

“I’m trying to get him on to Grown Up Food.” You explain in a whisper.

It doesn’t feel quite like a date. More like old friends having dinner after not seeing each other in a while. You saw Roger this morning, but it’s been a long time since you’d had time to sit down and eat something together.

Honestly, you don’t mind it. You were worried there was going to be this weird tension there, now that you’d put a label on the occasion. But it just feels natural. Like catching up.

At one point, Roger reaches across and takes your hand over the table, threading his fingers through yours, and even though it takes you by surprise, you don’t let go. It feels nice. You eat the rest of your meals with one hand.

Robbie gets tomato sauce all over himself, naturally, and you realise it’s probably almost time for his bath anyway.

“Roger bath me?” Robbie pleads after dinner, tugging at Roger’s sleeve and you hesitate, looking up at him.

“I don’t know..” You start

“Want me to give you a bath, bud?”

“Yeeahhhh!” Robbie yells.

Roger looks at you triumphantly.

“Can you do it?” You ask, doubtful.

“Course.” Roger says. “We’ll be fine, won’t we mate?”

“Yeah yeah yeah!”

You sigh and relent.

“Alright, I’ll do the dishes.”

“Mummy’s only next door in the kitchen, Robbie.” You’re saying to your excited toddler moments later, after having unpacked all his bath stuff and giving Roger the walk-through. He’s pulling at Roger’s hand, impatient to get on with the fun.

“Don’t get the water too hot.” You tell Roger soberly. “And don’t fill it up any deeper than his tummy. Oh, and don’t let the water out until after he gets out.”

He shoots you a quizzical look.

You lower your voice.

“He’s thinks he’ll get sucked down the plug hole.”

“Gotcha.” He says solemnly, and then gives you a little wink and a grin. Your stomach flutters.

“Come on then, little man. Bath time.”

You leave them to it and clean up the kitchen. For a bolognese, Roger’s managed to get through pots and pans in Biblical proportions. And he’s got sauce splattered all the way up the tiled walls. You sigh.

You can hear Robbie squealing and splashing, both of their laughter floating down the hallway, and you realise you might have drawn the short straw.

You’re sweating by the time you finally finish up, and walk through to the bathroom to check on them.

They're in such a bubble of their own that they don’t notice you at first, don’t hear you coming to stand in the open doorway, leaning against it with one hip. You fold your arms. You’re trying to keep a hold on the grin that’s threatening to spread all over your face.

Roger’s got Robbie sitting up on top of the sink, wrapped up in a fluffy towel, and he’s brushing his teeth for him.

“Open wide, Robbie, that’s it- no, don’t bite my finger - good boy. Nice and clean, hey?”

In that moment, you’re struck with the realisation that Roger’s become a man while you weren’t looking. That somewhere along the line, he’s changed from that haphazard, clueless uni student you’d known when he moved in, and turned into this mature, capable man. You’d like to believe that Robbie has something to do with it.

You think that maybe he’s more of a man than any guy you’ve gone out with before. Maybe even more of one that anyone you’ve ever known.

You want to make him feel like a man. Tonight.

You know it’s time.

You clear your throat a little and he turns, grinning brightly. You smile, throat suddenly thick with an emotion you can’t place. You walk over and lay a hand on his shoulder.

“My boys.” You murmur.

Slowly, deliberately, you lean up and press a kiss against his still-smiling lips. It’s quick and chaste - Robbie is there, after all - but it’s romantic as hell.

You pull back and look at him. His eyes are shining.

“Mummy kissed you!” Robbie shrieks before bursting into a fit of giggles, doubling over on the sink, and instead of ruining the moment it just makes it better. You’re laughing too, and so is Roger, picking him up and lifting up high.

“Yes she did!”

He kicks his little legs in the air as Roger spins him around the bathroom, positively squealing with childish laughter.

“And now I’m gonna kiss you TOO!” You shout, lunging for your son and pressing kisses all over his chubby face, screaming his head off all the while.

“Mummy no!”

“Yesyesyesyesyes!”

★★★★★

You all have to do the bedtime routine together.

Getting Robbie into his pajamas, watching his night time cartoons for an hour and then reading him his bed time story. You put him down to sleep in the spare room and watch a film in the meantime, hoping that by the time it’s finished he’ll be in the floppy stage, so you can just carry him back through to yours and put him down for the night and he won’t stir.

“It’s a sleepover.” You’d told him as you were through changing him into his pajamas, while Roger set up the telly ready for Magic Roundabout.

“Sleepover.” He’d repeated, bouncing excitedly.

He’d fallen asleep barely a page into his bedtime story.

You and Roger cuddle throughout the film, your face set on fire the entire time. It’s the first time you’ve been this close to him.

When it finishes, you carry Robbie next door, tucking his warm, sleeping body into bed and kissing him on the forehead. He doesn’t stir. You quickly check your hair in the hall mirror before creeping back out, letting yourself back in to Roger’s flat.

He grins lazily at you when you come in. He’s lying sprawled across the sofa with his feet hanging over the arm, still watching TV with a glass of wine in his hand. He looks loose and happy.

“Hi.”

He leans over to put his glass on the coffee table as you walk towards him, opening his arms for you to fall into him. His body is so warm.

“Is he fast asleep?” Roger mumbles into your hair.

“Out like a light.” You confirm.

He hums.

Finally alone together.

“What d’you wanna do now?” He asks.

It’s casual, but you know better. You can feel the excitement thrumming under his skin. It’s like a live current. It’s contagious.

“What do you wanna do?” You counter, playing his game.

“You know.” He murmurs, lips skimming the outer shell of your ear.

The electricity jolts through every part of your body, sending his words right down to your toes. You feel every single hair on your body stand on end.

You shiver.

“Hey, we haven’t had pudding!” He shouts suddenly, and you jump a little, pulling back to look at him in surprise.

He looks genuinely annoyed with himself for forgetting.

“Pudding?”

“Yeah!”

“You made pudding?”

“Yeah! Well, no. Not made. Bought.” He says, quickly rolling off you to cross the kitchen.

“It’s alright, Roger, you don’t have to-”

He’s yanking open the fridge door before you can stop him, hunting for the forgotten dessert and you roll your eyes and smile.

Once Roger had an idea, there was no slowing him down. He always did like everything just perfect.

“I got strawberries!” He shouts over his shoulder, waving the packet around.

Not your favourite.

You weren’t about to tell him that, though.

You stick him a weak thumbs up from the sofa as he ratches around for bowls and spoons.

“Thought it might be romantic.” He explains with a smug grin as he tips them into two bowls at the kitchen table.

“Tonight’s already been romantic.” You assure him. “Have you got chocolate?”

“No, sorry. Did you want some?”

“That’s ok.” You say, trying to hide your disappointment. You walk over to sit with him at the table.

“I might have pouring cream?” He offers.

“That’s ok, Rog-”

“No really, I’ll go and have a look.”

You let him go, staring down at your strawberries gloomily. If you could’ve had chocolate sauce, it might not have been so bad.

You ate strawberries all the time while you were pregnant with Robbie, always craving for them at the most bizarre times of night. Ever since he was born, however, you’d just never fancied them in the same way again.

“I’ve got squirty cream?” He half-yells from inside the fridge, and your eyes light up.

“Aw yeah, wicked!”

He laughs.

“Great.”

“D’you want some strawberries to go with that cream?” Roger teases when you spray half the bottle into your bowl.

"Shut up, I like it.”

You end up getting a lot of it all over your face, and Roger takes great pleasure in watching you trying to wipe it off.

“Oh for god’s sake, get here.” He says, after you wipe at your cheek in vain for the fifth time. “You’re not even getting anywhere near it.”

He licks his thumb and wipes at your cheek, scooping up all the whipped cream from your chops. Without thinking, your hand shoots out to grab his own, and you lick all of it off his thumb, relishing the taste. You fucking love whipped cream.

Your eyes snap open when Roger makes a strangled noise of pleasure, and you realise you’ve inadvertently turned him on.

You smirk, swirling your tongue around the tip of his thumb, making sure you get every last drop. He throws his head back and groans.

“Oh, come on.”

You laugh and pop your mouth off him, looking at him in faux-innocence.

“What? I was just making sure I got it all.”

He digs his palms into his eye sockets, his answering grin was tortured.

“How much longer are we gonna drag this out for?”

You look at him in disbelief.

“You were the one that suggested dessert!” You argue.

“Yes, and I’m now very much regretting that decision.”

His hands are still over his eyes, so he doesn’t see the lightbulb go on in your head, and the wicked grin that follows it onto your face.

“I’ve got an idea.” You say, voice low. He looks up at you.

“What now?”

“How about we bring dessert into the bedroom?”

★★★★★

“Sorry I haven’t tidied up in here.” He mumbles as he trails in after you, surveying the mess before you. “Didn’t exactly think it would get to this.”

“This is lovely, Rog.” You say as you sit down on the bed, thumbing at the blanket with a wistful smile playing on your face. It’s a patchwork quilt, warm and worn, thrown haphazardly over the bed. The grey sheets are all peeled back and rumpled, and there are pillows strewn about all over the place.

“My mum made it for me.” He mumbles again, looking embarrassed. You smile, rubbing your finger along all of the different textures.

You realise what he’s said too late.

“Roger..” You say, whipping around to face him, standing above you beside the bed with the cream bottle still in his hands. “You do want to do this, don’t you?”

His eyes fly open wide.

“Yes!” He almost shouts, and you have to stifle a giggle. “Shit, sorry. Yes. I just, I only meant - I didn’t expect you to let me- y’know - on the first.. date.”

You shift slightly on the sinky mattress.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Oh, no no!” He backtracks, putting the food down on the bedside table and plopping down next to you. “No, god. I don’t mean it like that. ”

He stares earnestly into your eyes.

“Are you nervous?” You whisper, glancing sideways up at him.

“No.” He says steadily. “Not with you.”

“Good.”

“Are you?”

“A little.” You admit.

But it’s a good kind of nervous. The kind you haven’t had in a very long time.

You love him.

Maybe not in that way, not quite yet, at least, but as a friend.

And maybe soon as more.

You love him.

And so you close your eyes, lean in, and kiss him.

★★★★★

“That’s cold!”

Roger squawks as you squirt a squiggle of cream down the middle of his bare chest. You cackle, running a finger through your mess before bringing it to your lips to taste.

“Mmmm.” You exaggerate, closing your eyes in mock-rapture as you suck the cheap foam from your fingertip.

“Where else are you gonna put it?” Roger asks eagerly and you grin.

“Patience.”

You have to hold his hips down to the bed to stop him wriggling as you suck and lick the sweet cream from his nipples, his chest, his belly-button. He’s moaning and giggling with every swipe of your tongue, and there’s a dark patch growing in size on the front of his stripey underwear. He’s rock hard, straining at the waist-band, and you can see his bright pink tip poking out of the top.

You decide the fun’s not over yet.

“My turn!” You declare, pushing him so that he rolls off to the side, flopping down on your belly in his place. “Now you’ve gotta do it to me.”

You flip onto your back and close your eyes, grinning while you wait for him to plan his attack.

“Don’t get it in my pubes.” You remind him. “And don’t put it anywhere near my vagina.”

Roger’s the first person you’ve been totally naked with, lights on and all, since Robbie was born.

You love your marks and scars - they remind you of Robbie - but it had been hard to accept that your body was changed permanently, and at such a young age, too. For the first year or so, you could hardly even be naked around yourself.

With Roger, everything was different. His face when you’d first taken your top off, so full of this quiet awe - it was enough to make everything you’d been worried about fade into background noise.

You jump when he spurts the cream onto your lips.

You resist the urge to poke your tongue out and clean it off, because the next thing you know he’s climbing over you and kissing you deeply, the sweet taste filling both of your mouths.

Neither of you can stop giggling, smiling against each other’s lips, teeth clashing together and breath merging into one.

After he’s licked you clean (and sucked a strawberry out of your belly button), he decides he wants to pay you lip service in another way.

So far, he’s taken all the foreplay in his stride with a quiet self-assurance, but now you’re getting towards the real thing, he’s suddenly nervous.

He stops between your legs and looks up at you, a little unsure of what to do next.

He’s lying on his belly, legs bent and crossed behind him at the ankle, in nothing but his y-fronts and a pair of purple socks.

You feel him mumbling your name into the inside of your bare thigh, following it up with a sweet kiss against your skin.

“You okay?” You wonder, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him.

“I’m not sure what to do.” He admits, burying his face into your leg and blowing out a big huff of air. It tickles.

You try not to giggle at him, arms folded under himself and his face planted into your thigh.

“Just do what feels natural.” You tell him, stroking his blonde head and he groans, frustrated. “You’ve been doing good so far.”

“What if I do rubbish?” He argues. You laugh at that.

“Half of you are rubbish at it anyway.”

“That’s not very encouraging-”

“Look, all I’m saying is that practise doesn’t always make perfect.” You remind him gently. “You’re a good kisser, you’ll be good at this as well.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Just do what feels right, you’ll pick it up in no time.”

He looks up at you then, one cheek still resting on your leg. His breathe tickles against your skin.

You get an idea.

“Come up here.” You say. He looks at you confused, but you haul him up by the arm nevertheless, until your faces are level.

“Give me your hand.”

He hands it over, mystified.

You take the palm of his hand and bring it to your lips, kissing him there once first, gently, to make him smile.

“Do it like this.”

You say, and then you move your lips and tongue against the palm of his hand, simulating oral sex, in just the rhythm and pattern that you like it.

“Sthee?” You muffle into his hand. “Juth’st like tha’ ”

You look up at him to check if he’s taking it in. His cheeks are turning a dark shade of red.

He nods stiffly and starts moving down your body.

“Got it.”

“The clit is-”

“I know where it is.” He snaps, and you nod, leaning back against the pillow to let him get on with it.

He does it just like you showed him.

You knew he’d be a fast learner, but you didn’t expect him to pick it up quite so quickly, and quite so well.

He’s so eager to taste you, pushing your legs open wider, pulling you onto his mouth so you’re flush up against his nose and lips. He groans against your clit when you push and grind against him, and the vibrations send shockwaves straight through you.

“That’s so good, Rog.” You’re telling him, stroking his hair as he groans into you. “Just like that.”

“Yeah?” He breathes, taking a break to turn his head to the side and suck a dark bruise onto your thigh. “Am I doin’ good?”

“So good.” You repeat, eyes squeezed shut and your nails digging into his shoulders like you’re trying to kill him.

You let him carry on until he makes you come, shaking and grinding against his face, pulling him closer by the back of his head. He moans as you tug at his locks, cleaning you up enthusiastically.

His tongue soon becomes too much against your sensitive heat. You push him away with your foot, and he props himself up on his elbow, grinning.

“How was that?” He asks, turning his head to wipe his wet chin off on his shoulder.

“Come ‘ere.” You murmur in answer, hauling him up towards you and pulling him down for a deep kiss.

“That good, ey?” He mumbles against your lips, and you shut him up by kissing him harder.

“Your turn.” You’re saying next, anxious to move onto the next thing as you push him off and move to get on top of him.

His breathe hitches as you push him down against the pillows, and you stop just before you move to slip off his boxers.

“Has someone done this to you before?” You wonder.

His eyes don’t move from your face. His chest is rising and falling rapidly under you as you trace a finger along the waist-band of his underwear. You feel his cock twitch.

“No.” He says breathily.

“Get ready, then.” You say, moving to finally pull his underwear off but then his hand shoots out and stops you.

He’s gripping your wrist tight, face anxious.

“Are you okay?”

“I won’t-” He starts, glancing up to the ceiling as if he’s having to will himself to say it, “I won’t.. last long, if you do that. At all.”

You breathe a laugh.

“That’s the point, Rog.” You say. “If you finish now, you’ll be able to last longer when we fuck.”

“Oh.” Is all he says, laughing at himself self-consciously.

You lean up and kiss him again, trying to reassure him. He’s still grabbing onto your hand tight.

“Ready?” You ask, thumbs hooked inside his waist-band.

His skin is fever-hot.

“Yeah.”

He’s right. He doesn’t last long.

Not that you were expecting him to, but still. It’s quite satisfying how quickly he’s coming uncontrollably into your mouth, hips stuttering and unable to stop himself from thrusting all the way down your throat.

“Oh god, oh god, oh fuck.” He’s whispering like a prayer, body twisting on the mattress below you as you take all of him, nose pressing into his belly. He’s got a fistful of your hair, and in the last moments, it’s like he doesn’t know whether to push you off or pull you closer.

It tastes hot, and slightly sweet, and when you crawl back up to let him taste himself on your tongue he can’t help but moan all over again.

He’s a bit like a zombie after that.

You decide to just leave him to recover for a while, realising it’s about time someone went to check on Robbie. You pull Roger’s dressing gown off the back of the door and slip it on, turning around in the doorway to tell him you’ll be back in a minute.

He’s lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, a goofy grin plastered all over his face.

“Won’t be long.” You whisper.

You wonder whether the words even register at all.

“Is he..?” Roger wonders when you come back in. He looks like he’s come back to life a little, now sat up on his elbows.

“Flat out.” You grin, coming to sit back down on the bed.

You don’t bother taking the robe off, suddenly a little chilly after all of the sweat has cooled.

“So do you want to fuck then, or..?” You wonder, trailing a finger around one of his nipples in a circle.

He sits up fully and looks at you at bit sheepishly, scratching his head.

“Er, actually...” He trails off, and you look at him encouragingly, waiting for him to finish. “Would it be ok if we, er, left it? For tonight?”

You blink at him.

“Of course!”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be silly!” You say, reaching over to pull him into a one armed hug. He leans his head on your shoulder.

“It was really awesome, though.” He mumbles into your collar bone, pressing a wet kiss where his dark blue robe had slipped down. “Loved it.”

“Me too.” You say appreciatively, resting your cheek - sore from all the smiling - against the top of his head. His hair smells like coconut shampoo.

“M’really glad it was with you.”

He yawns, suddenly knackered, and you begin to feel the same.

He moves off you and to the edge of the bed, and starts pulling his underwear back on.

“And plus,” he adds, looking at you over his shoulder. “There’s always tomorrow.”

You grin back at him.

“You’d do it again?”

“Are you joking?” He snorts, as if you’ve asked him the most stupid question he’s ever heard. “Any time you like, darling.”

★★★★★

Robbie can’t be left on his own overnight, so you have to collect up all of your things and traipse back through into your flat, bare feet cold on the wooden hallway floor.

Roger comes with you, not wanting to send you off to sleep alone after all of that. You do a final check on Robbie, before slipping into bed next to him, huddling into him immediately for warmth. It get’s cold in your little flat at night time, and the heating was something both of you could only afford to put on in the very depths of winter. Roger wraps his arms around you.

“So was this more of a one time thing, then?” He whispers into the dark just before he falls asleep. “Or were you looking to fill a more... permanent position?”

His voice is light and silly, but the moment’s a somber one. You can tell he’s feeling nervous.

“I’d wake up to you every day if I could.” You say seriously.

He kisses you then, gentle and deep - no lust in it but full of passion, and it makes your toes curl.

“Tomorrow’s a start, then.”

You stare up at the ceiling, listening to his rhythmic breathing and thinking about the forgotten strawberries, left out to go over-ripe on the bedside table. You can’t help but lament all the lost nights you could’ve been spending curled up in bed at Roger’s side.

You wonder whether all of this shouldn’t have happened a long time ago.

Or maybe it had happened at exactly the right time.

★★★★★

@ixchel-9275 @oogachuggaoogaoogachugga

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #borhap #borhap imagines #queen band #Queen #queen imagines #roger taylor headcanons #young roger taylor #bohemian rhapsody #borhap boys #ben hardy!roger x reader #ben hardy! roger taylor #my writing #1k celebration #requests #ask #blurbs

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delta-roseblr · 5 years ago

Note

Cheeky prompt?- Hazel Levesque meets Delix accidentally while waiting for that homophobic was from before as she's been quietly getting revenge for his attitude to her brother and future brother in law to the point when delix sees her getting his car towed Bella from supernatural style without solangelo knowing about it leaving them feeling terrified over knowing how scary yet polite she is.

Hello!

I know this took a while so I hope you enjoy this!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Felix could not be happier that Dean wasback from college for close to a month between semesters. Leonard was stillbeing a douche bag about the whole thing but clearly actively trying to keepFelix and Dean apart had become too much of a fucking hassle, so he had easedup on the rules a little bit. That didn’t stop him from getting a disgustedlook at the mention of Dean, but Felix couldn’t care less about that.

Yeah, he was happy that Dean was back formore than five seconds, but he wasn’t sure how he ended up driving Dean’s pieceof shit Honda instead of his new Jeep. It had apparently needed an oil changeor something so Dean had dropped it off before work, and Felix had picked it upfor him.

The fact that Dean was working at all wasobnoxious. Dean said that the bookstore got busy around the holidays, so theyreally needed the help. Felix found that hard to believe considering they livedin a world where online shopping existed. Dean working just seemed likeinterference from them getting to see each other but he felt like an assholepointing that out.

Maybe that was why he had volunteered topick up Dean's car, it was an opportunity for them to spend even more timetogether. He would enjoy that as soon as he could give Dean the keys becausethe Honda was just so old there were all these tricks to getting it to operateas a car. Felix felt like he was going to do the wrong thing and break thepiece of shit. Dean loved his car, and Felix couldn’t be the nail in the thing’scoffin.

He didn’t dare attempt to parallel parkeven though there was a parking spot right out front. Instead, he drove to aparking lot down the street. He was pretty sure the lot was for Town Hall, butno one ever seemed to be parked there.

Felix parked and didn’t even bother tolock the car. If anyone looked at Dean’s Honda and thought it containedanything worth stealing then they deserved whatever they found. He started downMain Street, heading back toward the bookstore.

He heard the cursing before he saw thesource. About halfway between where Felix had parked and where he was headingone of those oversized pick-up trucks that were just so fucking popular inTennessee was parked in what was clearly marked as a handicapped space with anobvious flat tire. A guy was circling it like he couldn’t actually believe hehad a flat.

Felix recognized the guy. They went toschool together and the school wasn’t that big so that alone was probablyenough, but in this case, it wasn’t the only reason. Eric thought of himself ashot shit because he was captain of the football team, but really, he was justthe school’s biggest fucking asshole. That didn’t make him likable, but it didmake him memorable.

“What the actual fuck!” Eric shouted athis flat tire as Felix passed. He looked like he was ready to literally pullhis hair out.

Felix had been spending too much time atBobby’s shop because he was tempted to point out that Eric really needed totake care of that before the weight of the truck would bend the rims Eric hadobviously spent some money on. He didn’t because he didn’t really give a fuckand if anyone deserved some misfortune it was Eric.

He wasn’t an idiot. He had watched howpeople had reached to Will coming out the year before, so he knew that therewould be fall out when he accidentally outed himself and his relationship withDean. A lot of it was pretty much what Felix had expected: sideways glances andwhispers. He guessed he and Will didn’t hold the same social status becausethere were some people, mainly Eric, that seemed to feel far more comfortablesaying things to Felix’s face than they had to Will. Felix was more thancapable of dealing with it and the year was practically half over, but it wasstill annoying as fuck. So, he might have gotten some joy out of seeing Ericbothered.

Felix walked past Eric without comment andwent unnoticed. A minute later he was strolling in the front door of thebookstore, the little bell ringing as he entered. He saw a few costumers millingaround which was a lot for the tiny store.

Dean was at the register with an older manthat Felix recognized as the owner, Mr. Campbell. Felix had never met the manpersonally, but Dean always talked about him fondly which was enough for Felixto like him at least a little. Felix also suspected that the guy liked Deanbecause the place really didn’t seem to need any employees besides Mr. Campbelland his wife, but the guy hired Dean every summer since he was fifteen.

He had just stepped in the door when Deannoticed him. He got the biggest grin at the sight of him and Felix knew it wasstupid because they had been dating close to a year but he felt himself blush alittle from Dean just looking at him that way.

“There he is!” Dean exclaimed excitedlybefore waving him over.

It was a few days later and Felix wastaking the long way to Dean’s place so he could pick up a couple of pizzas onthe way. He parked his Jeep in the pizza shop’s parking lot and climbed out andimmediately heard someone cursing up a storm.

Sort of impressed, Felix looked around andeventually found Eric. He was once again walking circles around his stupid pick-uptruck like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Yet again, one of his tireswas obviously extremely flat.

This time when Felix walked past he wasn’tso silent. “Two flat tires in one week,” he commented, and he didn’t even tryto hide how he was gloating, “That fucking sucks.”

Eric stopped in his primitive pacing athis words and looked to find their source. The moment he saw Felix the panicover his car left his face, and he snared at Felix. “Fuck you, fag.”

It wasn’t the first time Felix had beencalled that word. It wasn’t even the first time he had been called that byEric. He wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t bother him a little but he sure ashell wasn’t going to let that show. He just gave an amused laugh. “Right backat you, asshole,” he exclaimed with the mockery of a friendly wave.

It was a week later when Felix had yetanother run-in with Eric, or at least his car, although this one was a fair bitmore interesting. He was being dragged to the store with his dad to help pickup food for Christmas even though Felix wasn’t sure who his father thoughtwould be cooking. His dad wasn’t much of a cook and Felix had no skills in thekitchen.

The whole trip was really just an excusefor his dad to talk to him about college when Felix had no choice but to sitand listen. Leonard had been pushing the University of Vermont since the startof the year because it would be “close to family”. Felix had prettysuccessfully pacified him on the topic by agreeing to apply even though he hadno intention of going there. Why did he care about applying anyways? He wasn’tthe one paying the application fees.

It was all good until his guidancecounselor had to tell his dad that he could have a real shot of getting intoMIT if he would only apply. Leonard hadn’t been able to shut up about it since,and he played like it was because of the opportunity and the pride of his songoing to such a prestigious school. That wasn’t the real reason at all. Thereal reason was Boston was about as far from California and Dean as he couldget. Felix wasn’t going to MIT and he wasn’t going to apply to pacify hisfather, so he was doomed to endless conversations about it.

It felt like it took hours to get to thestore even though the store was only ten minutes from their house. As soon ashis dad parked, Felix jumped out of the car and started for the front entrance.As he turned the corner, he heard the sound of glass shattering. It was enoughto catch his attention and the source was easy enough to find.

Eric’s stupid pick-up truck was parked ina handicapped spot out in front of the store. This time Eric was nowhere insight, and instead, there were two girls standing next to it surrounded by theglitter of broken glass from one of Eric’s windows.

One of the girls was tall with her hairpulled into a braid that rested over one shoulder while the other was a bitshorter with mocha skin and a halo of dark curls. Both girls were wearingpurple t-shirts and jeans. They were bickering amongst themselves, so Felix wassure they hadn’t noticed them, and they really didn’t need to. He recognizedthem immediately: Nico’s sister and the Roman girl.

That was an interesting development. Heknew the two were known to be protective of Nico and he assumed that extendedto Will. Eric certainly had been an asshole to him as well. He guessed theywere getting a little revenge.

That was definitely a cause he couldsupport.

“Ladies,” Felix greeted casually as hewalked past, “Keep up the good work.”

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aokayinspace · 4 years ago

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Do you ever just sit and think about Kyle Valenti, high school homophobic dick who somewhere along the way realized how awful he was as a teenager and decided to make a change for himself and then set out to become a doctor and help people.

Sometimes I imagine he went to college in a more liberal environment than he grew up in Roswell. Maybe he was still dickish in college because it seems like his dad getting sick was kind of his catalyst, but he was still learning and growing. Then he gets to med school. First year is brutal. Kyle spends more time in the library than his apartment. But at least he’s not alone. Nope, he’s got his study buddy that he met on the first day of orientation and just bonded with instantly. And because of the craziness that is being a first year med student and trying to do well in his classes and not flunk out or burn out like they warn so many students do before they get to become doctors, he doesn’t realize at first that maybe his feelings toward said study buddy are edging past the point of platonic. He doesn’t have time to unpack that because he has anatomy and pharmacology and biochem and biology and more to worry about so he just pushes those feelings down. He keeps pushing those feelings down until finals are over. He’s survived his first year of medical school. His whole class has taken over one of the local bars to celebrate being done for the summer. He’s had a few drinks. He always gets more touchy-feely when he’s been drinking. He finds his study buddy in the bar and gives him a big hug, and thanks him for being his rock through this first year because Kyle really didn’t think he would have survived without him. And then there is a moment, as Kyle pulls out of the hug, and his eyes flick down toward the other guy’s lips. It’s just for a split second, but long enough for some of those feelings he pushed deep down to start to surface. He’s a little thrown, because he’s not gay. Maybe he hasn’t dated in a while because he’s been too busy with school, but he still knows he likes women. He pushes those feelings back down and locks them away for another time and goes back to celebrating with his classmates that they survived first year. Maybe Kyle doesn’t go home to Roswell that summer. No, instead he got a fancy internship at a cancer research center. Sure the job was just doing data collection and he didn’t see much outside of an excel sheet for days at a time, but this was the kind of thing that would look good on his resume when he would be applying for residencies and he wanted to make sure he was the best candidate he could be to get whatever placement he decided he wanted to pursue. Without the stress of classes and the banal work he was doing, his mind started having more freedom to unpack some of those things he pushed down. He still wasn’t sure if those feelings for his study buddy were real or if he was just conflating attraction with a combination of alcohol, elation, stress, a year of sleep depravation, and whatever else surviving first year med school can do to one’s brain. He didn’t really have anyone to talk to about this. Briefly his mind drifted to Alex and he felt that gut punch for how awful he treated him in high school. But he and Alex weren’t friends, and as far as Kyle knew, Alex was in Iran or Afghanistan or some other war zone. So he turns to the internet. He does some research. He learns some new terms. But he’s still no closer to giving himself any answers. In his searches he comes across a gay bar not too far from the apartment he’s subletting for the summer. No one really knows him here. He’s only here for a couple months anyway. So what’s the harm in checking it out? He sits at the bar nursing a beer, watching but not interacting. He’s out of his element. He doesn’t know why he came. He decided he was just going to finish his drink and leave until someone sat down in the stool next to him and started talking to him. “First time?” the man asked. Kyle didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t used to anyone approaching him while he was sitting alone at a bar with a drink. Well at least not men anyway. His face must have reacted before his words could because next the man was saying “Relax. Didn’t mean to freak you out. You just looked like maybe you could use someone to talk to.” And yeah that was exactly what Kyle needed. When Kyle finished the beer, the man bought him something strong and fruity with one of those paper umbrellas in it, and Kyle started talking. The man told him it was okay to be questioning and not have the answers right away but also that straight men didn’t usually seek answers from gay bars and walk away finding the answer is heterosexuality. Kyle wasn’t any less confused by the end of the night, but he was feeling better about it all. A few weeks later, he kissed a boy for the first time, and he liked it! It was almost like there was a weight he didn’t even realize was there was lifted from his chest, and he was feeling free. When the local Pride festival happened, he let his new friends paint pink, purple, and blue stripes on his cheek. And that is the story of how Kyle Valenti figured out he is bisexual.

#kyle valenti #rnm #i've just been having a lot of thoughts and feelings lately about kyle realizing he isn't straight during his time away from roswell #but maybe then once he came back he reverted back into parts of his old self #obviously he's not a dick anymore but roswell isn't exactly an open welcoming place for those who are different #and maybe this is why he hangs out at planet 7 sometimes #even if he came out to himself and maybe he was out oustide of roswell he's still learning how to be that person in roswell #and lowkey but i imagine forrest being someone who can help him merge those two worlds #but my forrestkyle thoughts are thoughts for a different post

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dailysassfromshego · 6 years ago

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Controversial topics about my country!!!

As some of you might now, I live in a pretty damn Balkan Eastern European country that is pretty misogynistic, homophobic etc etc….

-ABORTION We all are shocked now about USA anti-“pro-life” propaganda these recent days…Thank God in Albania abortions are legal for some several reasons that the poorest states of America (like Alabama) are failing to actually understand! 1) POOR EDUCATION!!! Poor education means high illiteracy rates followed by low average income (Albanian’s average monthly wage is around 200-300 euros). Poor education also means incest, rape and unprotected sex! Yes, our rates on these are pretty high! I got friends whose moms and/or themselves work at maternity centers/hospitals and they say the average of teenage pregnancies are too damn high and a good part of them end up in abortion, specifically or if possible in other cities so nobody specially their parents won’t see them to “publicly shame on them somehow”, simply because falling pregnant at a very young age is also humiliating to their parents and if they found out those girls better commit suicide rather than being actually killed by their fathers or bigger brothers!!! Rarely these girls get the support of their own family tbh and specifically if these girls are from the rural parts of the country. This happens mainly because a girl should be married first and give birth later, and in most scenarios this is because of unprotected sex due to their partners being total assholes for refusing to use protection and most of the cases later dumping them! 2) Health risks for mother or kid! These were the cases that were tolerated even back during communism (also rape and incest were part of the exclusion at that time), but even then there would be a lot where women would fake illnesses to want a pregnancy terminated for sorely their personal reasons. (At least they’d better fake documents at a very trusted person or they could easily face Spaç, the Albanian Gulag, cause spies were fucking everywhere!) And “yes” there could be complications that show up after the 5th month. 3) THE GENDER OF THE KID! Being a very misogynistic country aborting simply because the upcoming child is a girl will push wives by their husbands to commit an UNWANTED ABORTION! This is by far the most controversial and this is the only reason that should be banned by law if you ask me! Thankfully abortions cost less than 200 euros. And to all those “pro-lifers”: You really are pro-life but if the kid dies within the next 3 years by the poor life conditions don’t @ me cause ya all the real anti-lifers! Or lets say that those kids end up in an orphanage where in most cases the conditions are equally as bad as if their biological mothers would keep ‘em, specially in poor countries most kids in orphanages are malnourished, psychologically and physically abused by the people who work in those orphanages or by their older fellows! (I can not even count the amount of the cases we had here and most are within the last 3 years!) “If are a pro-lifer then you better want a life with quality not with the guaranteed fear of abuse and death!!!”

-LGBTQ RIGHTS Not the most welcomed country for the LGBTQ community, I see actors and politicians being openly homophobic and swearing to kill their own sons if they found out they were gay, live on TV programs! However the more educated and informed the common society gets the better for the community! Here you got a source for more info into this topic if interested! Thankfully we are progressing into this topic and we got 17th of May on 2014 as the 1st LGBTQ pride and since then held every year! (Currently speaking we have some exchange students from Spain that are gay and one of them has cried for having a very good time here and being accepted from his fellow students and my father, who is his teacher and if not actually the only one of the teachers to truly accept him for whom he is rather than in his home where he is very badly treated by his teachers simply because he is gay and drags!) However we also got a kind of “transgender” culture that is more of an old tradition in rural parts of Northern Albania, practiced under the “Kanun of Lek Dukagjini/Rules of Lek Dukagjini” (check on internet about this one, is a very interesting topic to even study on it if you are a non-Albanian + it will get you to understand the whole old mentality of this country better) the women called “Burrnesha” or else called the “Sworn Virgin” who are the women that take a vow of chastity and wear male clothing in order to live as men in patriarchal northern Albanian society, cause due to the family not having any sons therefore they’d become “the sons their family never had” keep their childhood surnames and inherit the family properties. There is also a whole National Geographic Taboo series episode dedicated on this topic + a lot of documentaries for you to check out! In this patriarchal country is basically more acceptable if a woman condones with the life of a man than a boy with a woman’s. Notable is one of the best live-on-air TV programs “wrecks” was when a transgender got asked by the dumb ass hostess what kind of community she represents and her respond was “I represent the community of women!” and the host went by in a very pushing way “but you are a different kind of a woman it should be something more or else…” and the other ones interrupts “…let me take is this way honey, just because you are blonde you represent the community of blondes?” and the host says in a thinking way “…mmm yes, actually, yes!” This scene became one of the best memes against the illiteracy of that particular TV hostess whom is known to make stupid questions and totally out of place comments + a boom against most of those so called journalists that have and are filling our media courses full of unprofessionalism, lies and trash content! “Your genitalia preferences are none of my business and shouldn’t be anybody’s! What matters is your character!”

-WOMEN RIGHTS Believe it on not Albania allowed women to vote before Italy, starting in 1920 and gaining full rights of voting in 1945! The very 1st feminist movement was started leaded by Urani Rumbo (who happens to be from the same city as me, Gjirokastra) who promoted woman’s emancipation by publishing the newspaper “Drita” (light in Albanian) and protesting in 1923 so girls could get high-school education! It is known though that actually the Tosk part (Southern part of Albania) was always more matriarchal compared to the patriarchal Geg part (Northern part), and women where seen with far more equal rights towards men while in the other part women were seen as objects. However in 1945 Albania became the 1st communist country that actually applied the ideal of gender equality compared to others that were more symbolic rather than actually applied! That system also put a whole ban on pre-arranged marriages, gave them their rights to get a full education, vote and work equally as men did! You finally had female doctors, drivers etc. even mine diggers!!! (When my grandmother had my father she was just 19 and my grandfather, 26 at the time, was begging to her to continue her university studies on economics where she had won a scholarship, but she kept on declining saying she had to raise the kids while he was saying that her mother could do that as she was living with them! Now she regrets not listening to him!) Anyways by the fall of communism in 90′, things got a bit out of control and the “Kanun” (friendly reminder the “Kanun” is basically medieval rules made somewhere in the 1400′ for the rural parts of the north) got back in tracks and a lot women lost their rights not “legally” but “morally” and this being applied till recent days where the law and authorities would actually do nothing on cases of domestic abuse, rape and incest. And as if this is not enough most of these cases are not even reported due to fear from their husbands, relatives or even family for putting a shame on them! Not to even mention some sexist laws that were put the recent years… Though thankfully there are people fighting about that but yet again is a lot to do due to poor education specially mainly in the rural parts which consists around 70% of the country! “There is still a lot to be done!”

-RELIGION Now this one is my fave! Here nobody gives a flying fuck about your faith! Once again the 1st communist country to truly apply the ideology’s terms making us the 1st Atheist country in the world, in the 60′! Sure a lot mosques and churches were demolished, yet the most important ones were preserved (compared to now that only a few are being founded by Turkey, Greece or Vatican regarding on where they apply their interests on, which is totally unacceptable, and most of them aren’t legit ones with real historical values) and a lot of priest and believers where imprisoned (this one wasn’t a fair move tbh), yet it was the best option to finally unify the nation based on nationality rather than on religion that most nations actually do and/or have! If that wasn’t done on the right time Albania would have ended up in a Bosnia of 90′ scenario where people slaughtered each-other for identifying with another religion=nationality! That, cause if religions weren’t banned people would not accept each-other only because of having another faith, not to add the slurs each of them had and still do somehow! This opened up to marriages regardless of religion which is truly an amazing thing and impossible in most of the world! (My mum is Christian Orthodox from her family, my dad Bektashi Muslim from his and it was his choice to baptize me Christian Orthodox... Funny part? None of us is actually a believer!!!) Why still does? After 90′ a lot people, mainly non-Albanians, found free space to mess up with people’s minds and pushing them to become believers of a certain religion for a considerate amount of money in exchange! Believe it or not this still is a very high risk these days using all sorts of forms to brainwash the illiterate part of the society and condone with a lifestyle that is borderline morally and physically illegal or at least should be illegal! Simply because religion is a very personal topic and nobody should push that on anybody in any way possible! However the best part of being a secular state is that you get to celebrate extra vocations! “In the end of the day Albanians’ real faith is “money and food”... as for the rest we don’t really care as long as we got to celebrate!” XD

#religion #women rights #lgbtq #abortion #pro-choice #controversial topics #albania #sorry for long post #facts #get to know a country you got no idea of

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reysccp · 6 years ago

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Taylor is almost out. But I want Kaylor out too.

I can't believe I just watched the KKK 118 video (I was boycotting her since she "married" into that family)

I just want to say that once again we can clearly see that there was no marriage at all. That was a joke. And he's very very gay in every frame he shows up in the video.

That's it. Back to my regular boycotting KKK.

But seriously, how is Karlie going to get out of this mess? I can't see a Kaylor coming out any soon the way things are going in KK front.

I watched the Netflix reputation yesterday and Taylor seems steady in her "slowly increasing gayness" plan. I'm confident Toe is over after all his movies promo and awards season and Taylor is openly out in 6 months max, but Karlie... oh man, what a mess.

Still, there's hope. For a long time I believe Taylor's plan for the narrative is: Kaylor was very real during 2014, so we have songs in rep that are obviously Kaylor: Dress, Don't Blame me, So it Goes, Delicate etc.

BUT KISSGATE HAPPENED AND KAYLOR WAS OVER BECAUSE OF FEAR AND WE GOT DWOHT, SO SAD. (I also think Getaway Car is about kissgate, but I know it's interpretation is polemic so I won't bother)

We know it's not true, kaylor never broke up, but this is a good narrative because it is good for swifties that refuse to believe in bearding (taylor would never lie to us!!!111) and it's good to preserve all former beards (although I don't think any of them care anymore, the most iconic, HS, seems very out of the closet himself, and JA is so gay and bored in his stunts that I also think he should get out of the closet too).

So a Kaylor coming out could happen after a Toe break up. Kaylor can reunite and we can get a beautiful song in ts7 of how true love conquer fear (and political songs thrashing the entertainment industry and many gay pride songs and please all the female pronouns that exists). Of course there are so many holes in this narrative but who cares. All her straight narrative is full of holes and people buy it, no one cares.

But this can only happen if JK is out of the picture and this joke marriage is over. Also in this narrative KK was cheating him with Taylor during 2014. So here goes my suggestion for the PR teams: GET JK A NEW GIRLFRIEND. Get another young beautiful model for him to parade in his business in homophobic countries. Make him cheat. So the marriage is over, both cheated, nobody is the bad gay, he's such a macho conquering all those models 🙄 and Kaylor can reunite.

I won't charge for the advice, just make it happen.

#gaylor swift #kaylor

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beepbeeprichiellc · 7 years ago

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Pink Lemonade

Summary: Richie Tozier finds himself in a sticky situation and is forced to hide in a closet for safety. He wasn't expecting to find the space already occupied, and he defiantly wasn't expecting to enjoy the company so much.

A/N: *Warnings: Homophobic Comments, Sexual Situations/Themes.* The boys are in their senior year of high school, so 18+. I love Richie's mouth in this one, he is so sassy!! Might consider part two if people like it, if not no biggie.

Word Count: 2009

Masterlist

Part: 1 (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)

The boy’s loud, lustful moan echoed against the concrete walls. Richie felt his hair being pulled as his pace quickened, knowing his already busy mouth would soon be overwhelmed. He snuck a glance at his partner, his half lidded eyes casted upwards in complete bliss and it took everything in Richie’s power not to smirk or crack a joke. The climax came quickly, forcing a sour taste down the trashmouths throat. He cringed, pulling away.

“Fuck that was good.” The large football player moaned, doing up his jeans and pushing himself away from the bathroom wall.

Richie nodded, giving a thumbs up as he walked to the sink and spit. Running the water he washed out his mouth, feeling the salty flavor cling to the inside of his cheeks. “Glad I could be of service.” He muttered, smirking over to the bulky boy. “Next time we should switch.” He joked, chuckling to himself lightly, knowing that the likelihood of him getting off was just as about as good as this losers chances of an academic scholarship.

“I’m no faggot.” The football player hissed, glaring at the lanky boy before him.

Richie turned off the faucet, raising his eyebrow, “You kind of are, I mean I literally just got you off.”

“You sucked my dick, you’re the faggot not me.” He retorted harshly, his rationality adding up poorly.

“Hmm.” Richie looked over to the jock and smiled, amused by his homophobia despite what he had practically begged him to do yet again. “The way I see it,” He mused, confidence brimming in his eyes. “If you orgasm from the stimulation of another man then you my good sir, are gay.”

“You better watch what you say Tozier.”

The warning merely slipped right passed Richie as he continued, “I mean does your cheerleader girlfriend know what you’re doing afterschool in these here bathrooms?”

“You better shut the fuck up, or I’ll-“

“I’ll have to ask her if having your dicked sucked by another male makes you homosexual or not. I’m curious about her opinion on the subject.” Richie saw the jock move and instantly threw himself to the side, allowing the oversized senior to crash into the sink. The buffoon let out a loud protest before rebounding and bolting towards the other boy.

“I’m going to fucking kill you trashmouth.” The football player bellowed, following Richie as he bolted through the bathroom door and out into the hallway.

Their footsteps screeched against the tile floor, becoming the only sound in the empty school. Richie knew he was faster than the tank behind him, who had at least seventy pounds on his lanky ass, but he also know there weren’t too many places to run to in such a small high school which meant he needed to hide.

He cut down the hall leading into the lunchroom and heard the jocks steps fall behind. Taking the opportunity he rushed into the nearest janitor’s closet, closing the door behind him tightly. His heart ponded against his chest and he let out a slow, desperate sigh of relief.

“This room is taken.”

Richie nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the small voice, he quickly turned around and met the chocolate eyes of a petite boy, his face swollen and bruised. The boy tried to continue but Richie quickly covered his mouth to silence him. Moving his finger to his lips he motioned for the kid to stay silent, the sound of the jocks footsteps becoming louder and louder.

There was a slew of curse words following the noise of the jocks heavy breathing. Richie smirked as he passed the closet, continuing down the hallway before turning the next corner. He chuckled lightly, feeling a weight lift itself off of his chest. “Damn, I thought he was going to kill me.” He muttered, still holding on to the small boy.

The other kid pulled his face away from Richie’s hand, narrowing his eyes at him. “Your hands smell disgusting.” He hissed, “Don’t you ever wash them?”

Richie turned to him then, taking him in fully. “Hey I know you.” He commented, smirking slightly at the memory. “You’re that neat freak who hangs with the bird boy and the stuttering kid.”

“I have a name.”

“Right, right.” The trashmouth mused, twirling his hands in the air, motioning for the name to come back. “Edmund or something.”

“Eddie.” He corrected, nearly growling in annoyance. “My name is Eddie Kaspbrak.”

“Yeah Eddie, that’s it.” The lanky boy smirked, snapping his fingers. “Hey, it’s nice to meet you Eds my dear. Names Richard Tozier, but my friends call me Richie.”

“I know who you are.” Eddie replied harshly, causing Richie to smile.

Richie faked gasped, clutching his chest. “Have we met?”

“You’re the joker of Derry High, kind of hard to miss.” He answered, sneering in his direction. “And I was here first so you need to-“

“Who’s got you on the run?” Richie asked, ignoring Eddie’s obvious annoyance. “Same kid that gave you that shiner?”

Eddie cringed, grazing his hand along his already bruised skin. He frowned, before sneering. “Henry Bowers caught me right after last period.” He explained, his eyes becoming heavy with an emotion that Richie could not pinpoint.

“Yeah, I hear that kid is an asshole.” Richie replied, trying to push down the bubbling emotion in this throat. “Real big too, got held back a few grades.”

“And you? What are you doing here?” Eddie asked, his eyes clearing of the storm within him. “I thought you could talk yourself out of anything.”

“Normally I can but I got the captain of the football team pretty heated up.” He replied, amused by truth his own statement. “He’s such a homophobe.”

“Yeah I’m aware.” Eddie added, shrugging his shoulders. “He’s got me a few times in the locker room.”

Richie felt his face flush, looking at the boy he raised an eyebrow, “You’re a queer Eddie boy?” The small boy flinched, although Richie wasn’t sure if it was from the harsh terminology or the nick name. Eddie’s gaze dropped and he merely shrugged not answering the question fully. Richie chuckled, “Well let me tell you, the caption of Derry High’s football team is defiantly gay himself so don’t take his abuse to heart.”

“How would you even know that?” Eddie hissed, leaning against the furthest wall, putting what little space he could between the two. “What are you physic or something?”

“No but I just sucked his dick and that’s about as gay as it comes.”

“What the fuck?” Eddie stammered, “Are you serious?”

“As serious as that shirt you’re wearing.” He replied, motioning to Eddie’s bright blue polo. “Been doing it for the past month and he comes quicker than the fucking road runner.”

“That’s-“Eddie muttered, shuttering. “That’s disgusting.”

Richie shrugged, tasting the lingering saltiness in the back of his throat. “What, you’ve never been with anyone? That’s just how it goes Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Will you stop it with the fucking nick-names?” Eddie hissed, shifting his weight under him awkwardly.

“So I take that as a no.” Richie snickered, amused by the boys uncomfortableness. “How do you even know you’re gay if you’ve never been with anyone?”

Eddie recoiled, looking at his feet. He played with his hands before responding softly to his shoes, “You’re supposed to love the person you have sex with and I’ve never been in love.”

Richie couldn’t help the laugh that erupted in his chest. He used his hands to quiet himself but it failed as his voice filled the air. “What you think that I loved that lug-nut?” He mused, clutching his sides. “Sex has nothing to do with love Eds, it’s all about getting your rocks off not filling your head with all that emotional shit.”

“Wow, you’re just the pride and joy of Derry aren’t you?” Eddie bit, standing from the wall. “You’re sick.”

“I’m truthful.” Richie corrected, his laughter dying down into a chuckle. “Just wait till your first time, it’s defiantly not like it’s made out to be in the movies.”

Eddie’s face was red with embarrassment. He brushed past the taller boy, opening the door and exiting. Richie rolled his eyes, following him for the simple fact he was sure the jock had given up his chase by now. “Don’t need to get mad Eds, I was just telling it like it was.” He spoke, taking long stride to catch up with him.

“Don’t call me Eds.” He hissed, walking through the hallway quickly. “And leave me alone, go blow some guy in the bathroom.”

Richie staggered for a moment, stunned by the harsh statement. He recovered quickly, hurrying through the high school doors with the other boy. “Hey, I think you owe me an apology.” He joked, taking the steps two at a time and abruptly stopping in front of Eddie, forcing him to a halt. “That hurt.” He mocked, pouting his lip and tilting his head.

Eddie scoffed and moved past his obstacle, grumbling something under his breath. Richie smiled, skipping up next tom him as they walked through the parking lot, which now only consisted of two cars, Richie’s beat up truck and what he could only assume was Eddie’s blue something or rather.

Richie found he was actually enjoying himself, completely comfortable with the small boys company. The only person who had ever made him feel so at ease was Beverly, and that had actually taken some time. No one had ever calmed him so quickly and Richie was afraid to let it end. “Is that your car?” he mused as they neared the blue painted vehicle. “It’s kind of gay you know. I mean couldn’t pick another c-“

He was instantly cut off by the boy who zombie rose from the driver’s seat. A surprised squeak dropped from Richie’s lips and he jumped back instantly. Eddie laughed, and Richie drank in the sweet sound. “Awe, what did Bill scare you?” He sneered, opening the car door.

“No.”

“W-who is this?” The boy at the wheel asked, looking over the trashmouth before scrunching up his face.

“Hey, it’s the stuttering dude!” Richie mused, pointing to Bill enthusiastically. “I’m Richie, Eddie Spaghetti and I hid out in a closet this afternoon. We had a very heartfelt conversation about the difference between love and sex.”

“W-what the f-fuck? “ Bill muttered, looking at Eddie with wide eyes.

“Ignore him.” Eddie mumbled, sliding into the passenger seat. “He’s just the schools trashmouth.”

Richie gasped dramatically, again gripping his chest. “I thought we were becoming friends! We had such a fun time in the closet.” He joked, holding Eddie’s door open with one hand smiling down at his annoyed face. “I mean we could have a bright future together Eds.”

“D-did I miss s-something?” Bill asked, turning the ignition and awaking the car. “W-what-“

“He’s just fucking with me.” Eddie bit, smacking at Richie’s hand until he dropped his grip. “He’s apparently an asshole like that.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow then Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie jeered, clicking his tongue and shooting his fingers at the very aggravated boy. “We’ll do lunch.”

“No-“

“Okay then! Bye-bye new friends!” He cheered, closing the car door and cutting off Eddie’s protest. He watched the boy pout in the driver’s seat, glaring daggers at the school fool. The car moved, pulling from the parking space and driving out of the lot. Richie waved at them until they were out of sight, consumed by the now fading sun.

The lanky boy whistled a light tune as he strolled towards his truck, smiling uncontrollably. He thought of the small boy with the wrong assumptions of love, admiring the purity of the entire thing. Although he would never admit it, Richie found himself liking the boy. He but his mind at ease, even if he hated all of his stupid jokes or his ideas of sex.

Whatever the case, for the first time ever, Richie Motherfucking Tozier was looking forward to the next day of school.

#reddie #it #it 2017 #it fanfiction #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #bill denbrough

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fallenstarliite · 7 years ago

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we are here, we are queer

(pairing: taegi)

In the crowd, amongst people like him and people completely different, Taehyung feels a sense of belonging mingling with his deer-in-the-headlights, first-pride, wide-eyed churning in his stomach. Jimin is clinging to his arm and Jeongguk is behind them, filming everything with a practised expertise.

“See, Taehyung!” Jimin speaks suddenly, as the three of them navigate through the police barriers (both human and metal) to get to the centre of the gathering area. “I told you it’d be fun!”

Jimin looks stunning – shimmering eyeshadow accentuates his eyes and he’s wearing his favourite bondage harness over his shirt, rainbow stickers and bracelets littering his body. Taehyung simply has a small, discrete bi-pin on his black shirt and, looking around at the colourfully dressed people, he wishes that he could have the self-conviction to dress like them.

“I guess…” Taehyung murmurs, “It’s not exactly what I’m used to, though…”

“That’s exactly the point.” Jimin bounces on his toes as he looks for Seokjin in the crowd. “This is challenging what is normal in Korea anyway! Besides, you’re definitely extravagant enough for this lifestyle, you budding actor.”

“If it helps, hyung, the first Pride I went to was in London and I threw up.” Jeongguk pipes up, sending Taehyung an encouraging smile – rainbow painted cheeks puffing up.

“Ewww!” Taehyung exclaims with a wide laugh, starting to feel more comfortable in the push and pull of the colourfully adorned crowd.

Jimin finally spots Seokjin and pulls Taehyung through the throngs of people. “Keep up, Jeongguk!” He calls to his boyfriend hanging back to film them.

“Can you let me be artsy just once?” Jeongguk protests, camera still trained on Jimin and Taehyung. “I want Taehyung’s initiation to be fully documented, for fucks sake. You have no concept of art, Jiminie.”

“Fuck right off, Guk.” Jimin shoots back, neither of them putting any real fire behind their words, before smiling brightly at Seokjin.

“Minnie you look amazing, but not as amazing as me!” Seokjin chuckles with a teasing wink before pulling Jimin into a tight hug. Seokjin, the most self-confident in their group, has gone all out with his make up: blue eyeliner and yellow and pink eyeshadow dusting his eyelids and eyebrows. He was also spectacularly doused in purple glitter.

Jeongguk elbows Taehyung to the side so he can hug Seokjin, the suck up. Taehyung is aware he’s staring at Seokjin wide-eyed, the eldest being a far cry from his usual calm theatre student self.

“Taehyung,” Seokjin gasps, “you came, I can’t believe it!” and Taehyung finds himself pulled into a tight and warm hug.

“Well… yeah, Jiminie said it would be good for me, y’know, self-acceptance and all that.”

Seokjin smiles sympathetically, lifting a hand to rest on Taehyung’s cheek.

“It’s good you’re here, but you need to be more glamorous, honey!” Seokjin unzips his bag and goes rummaging through it.

“I don’t think I need to…” Taehyung points to his bi flag pin with an ounce of nervousness.

Seokjin laughs, not unkindly but with a slight mocking, amused tone. Taehyung flushes deeply, eyes burning and nose tingling.

“You’ve got so much to work with, Tae, I could make you gorgeous.”

Taehyung’s eyes shift to Jimin who is wrapped up in Jeongguk’s embrace and the two are so domestic that it hurts him. He faintly wishes that the ground would open up and swallow him and curses Jimin for persuading him into coming – he’d known that this wasn’t his crowd. God, he feels so stupid and humiliated for not being able to dress like the other queers.

“Jin, I see you’re still heckling people to be more glittery.” A drawly voice interrupts the tense silence that had sank in between Seokjin and Taehyung.

Taehyung turns, startled, to look at the newcomer. He is shorter than Taehyung with fluffy bleached hair, slanting cat-like eyes, and pouty lips and the most surprising is that he has no sign of anything gay on his person. His clothes are black and simple and he just has a single black ring on his right middle finger.

“Yoongi.” Seokjin nods in greeting, deflating a bit in his excitement. “How are you?”

“I’m good, you?” The boy, Yoongi, offers a tight smile and Taehyung – sensing the awkwardness starts to shift to turn to Jimin and Jeongguk. Before he can move, however, Seokjin grabs his wrist gently, preventing him from going quite yet.

“I’m well, and the boy I’m heckling is Taehyung.” Seokjin responds, gesturing to Taehyung.

Yoongi looks at Taehyung with an unreadable expression and Taehyung tries very hard not to be intimidated by him – to little avail. Yoongi, despite his height, commands attention and very easily fills up the space. Taehyung just about manages to offer a small half-smile in greeting.

“Is he your new boyfriend then?” Yoongi asks bluntly.

Taehyung chokes out a surprised laugh before blurting out forcefully, “God, no!”

Seokjin squawks indignantly and Yoongi smiles appreciatively. (Taehyung refuses to acknowledge his stomach swooping low and twisting itself up.)

“As offensive as that was,” Seokjin says, sending Taehyung a reproving glance, “he’s right, Taehyung’s just a friend I’ve known for a while.”

Yoongi tilts his head slightly, a calculating hint entering his eyes. “You never mentioned him to me last year, at all, only Jimin and Jeongguk.”

Taehyung feels a pang of hurt reverberate down his spine and he looks at Seokjin with the hurt eyes of a puppy.

“Don’t look at me like that TaeTae!” Seokjin protests, glaring at Yoongi. “I did mention him to you, just not by name.”

Yoongi looks pensive once more and doesn’t continue the conversation.

“So—um—how do you know each other?” Taehyung hesitates, an accent of insecurity flavouring his tone – not knowing whether he is overstepping a boundary.

“We used to date.” Yoongi doesn’t even look at Seokjin when answering, eyes intently focused on Taehyung. “It didn’t last long, only three or four months.”

“Yep.” Seokjin contributes.

“Cool.” Taehyung shifts his weight a bit before looking around at the large plaza they’re standing in. From where they are, they can only catch a glimpse of the yellow fluorescent jackets of the police guarding the Pride Festival. He continues looking around – at the women dancing freely on the stage, at the homophobes protesting in the surrounding buildings and streets, at Jimin and Jeongguk kissing gently, and finally down at the pin he’d proudly pinned on that morning only to find out that he wasn’t ‘fabulous’ enough for this celebration (according to Seokjin).

“I like your pin.” Yoongi offers, eyes crinkling as he sends Taehyung a reassuring smile. “I think it suits you.”

“Thank you.” Taehyung whispers, not quite believing the intimidatingly beautiful man.

“Don’t you think that Taehyung’s facial structure could be stunning if he would just let me put a tiny bit of glitter?” Seokjin presses and Taehyung is suddenly interested in the floor.

“Nah, sure it might make him more ethereal but look at the boy,” Yoongi says, meeting Taehyung’s confused gaze with a wink, “he doesn’t need makeup to look stunning.”

Warmth spreads down Taehyung’s neck and he mutters something incomprehensible before finally managing to go to Jimin and Jeongguk – Seokjin too busy spluttering to stop him from moving.

When Jimin pulls Taehyung into a tight hug, Taehyung can still feel Yoongi’s gaze on his back.

READ THE REST ON MY AO3

#bts #asexual min yoongi #grey ace kim taehyung #min yoongi #kim taehyung #pride fic #fanfic #MY WORK #asexual characters #first meeting #falling in love #pride parade #LGBT #Queer

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violetsystems · 4 years ago

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#personal

The weather is back to being amazing again. This is the horrible curse about Chicago. For maybe five or six months out of the year, the temperature is gorgeous if not sometimes extreme. Now that the AC is on, my cat sleeps like a human in bed often. A little human. I wake up a few times a night to find her in different spots. Mostly just waiting for me to feed her wet food in the morning. I still feed the cat outside my door. My immediate neighbors do as well. I think when you think about common ground between people in society you have a good starting point there. They share the porch here. Sometimes it’s a little claustrophobic. But it is never trans or homophobic. I think people like myself who openly identify as straight and cis could do a better job at empathizing. But people are already bothered enough by society to where I try to tread lightly as to how I do this. Nobody wants to be patronized. It’s tacky. So it’s always the little things in this neighborhood that communicate the most. Hanging a plant for your elderly neighbor. Shoveling the snow early in the morning in the dead of winter. In the summer, it’s a little easier to be patient with the ways people try to communicate. And then there’s the glaringly obvious clues that people don’t really give a shit. I went to do the laundry yesterday. It’s a small building so not a lot of traffic down there. The trash is usually filled with laundry supplies. I went down there and somebody had deposited a U Kotex tampon box in the trash. This act alone baffles me but it’s such a familiar thing. I would call it a microaggression. And here’s how I would explain it. Back when I was shoveling the snow, somebody had scrawled a message in my immediate neighbor’s doorstep. Part of it had been snowed over but the message I could read simply said “Gay people live here.” I couldn’t tell who wrote it. I worried that my neighbors didn’t. In short, I cared silently about how this would be perceived. So I erred on the side of being inclusive and shoveled it last. Either way, it was information I could choose to respect or neglect. Months later, finding a tampon box in the shared laundry room when you know some of your neighbor’s identify as nonbinary at the least is sus. I did the same as I did back in winter. I disposed of it before anyone got the wrong idea. Again I’m no detective. But it’s obvious to me people don’t care about how that might make somebody feel. I do. I don’t go knocking on somebody’s door and loudly exclaim “why are you throwing your tampon box in the trash?” It could have been them for all I know. So like I do often, I fix the situation before an incident arises. And nobody knows it was me. I know for a fact certain neighbors of mine are completely passive aggressive. The couple behind me definitely gets off on not locking the gate behind them. It just so happens my immediate neighbors and I are the ones who seem to get targeted for package theft. I’m used to being targeted and smeared. When I see other people getting fucked with it largely concerns me. I can’t always erase the fact that people often play elaborate pranks on me in public. Where I live and sleep is a different matter. The problem with microaggressions in society is pretty simple. Bullying never went away. It’s normalized as a badge of courage. A rite of passing in society. A hazing and a reprogramming of sorts. Some of us feel pressured by society to fight back. To act up. To tear down. And then some of us have fought that battle alone for years only to be ostracized and explained away. I spoke with a friend recently about being bored with Chicago and alienated. They replied flippantly “Well everybody knows you aren’t really a big fan of being social.” Everybody also knows I flew to Asia fourteen times by myself over a five year period. The attention to detail only goes so far before it has jumped the shark.

Any sort of a sacred communication, writing or otherwise will eventually degrade into noise. People in Chicago definitely don’t like you being you outside of a clearly, organized group. I was reading something about Pride recently how the organizers did not want police involved at all. It sounds like a no brainer to me. Pride started as a riot. A necessary response to oppression and repression. As an aging straight white man I don’t really see myself at pride. Neither do I see police belonging there as well. And yet. The police feel left out or something? When Black Lives Matter makes a valid point about police being the number one threat to the very definition of the movement this is a threat how? When you’ve had your civil rights shredded daily in broad daylight just being a regular person and I mouth the words ACAB all of the sudden I’m a threat to society? Somehow me opening my mouth and speaking up for other people makes me a target. And yet I do it pretty clearly and succinctly under my rights of freedom of speech. It gets abused. Toyed with. Tampered with. Just like any basic infiltration of any cool thing or movement here in America. No matter how many years I see these people try to throw a wrench in independent movements thinking for themselves, I’m struck at how amateur they become. America can’t have you thinking for yourself without supervision. It bullies people into being afraid. It infiltrates with a smile and a well meaning look only to poison the well and look back accusingly. “Why aren’t you thirsty?” It sticks it’s fucking nose into everything and acts like its the champion or savior when it has done nothing except play the villain. Good cop. Bad Cop. Still a fucking cop. And it doesn’t actually have a leg to stand on. It uses other people to do it’s dirty work. Pits movements against each other to neutralize dissent. It takes over the core history and rewrites itself into the story as the main character. It buried people’s authentic narratives in favor of lumping them into a moderated congregation. It talks but never lets you speak. When it does, it talks over you and mansplains everything you’ve been saying all along wrong. It’s baked into the culture. Traditional American doublespeak is an advancement of Orwellian lying. People think they can smile so sweetly and say absolutely nothing of substance. That these little pockets of resistance need to be ironed out and managed. That autonomy isn’t an actual survival reflex. Of all the people you know who have been fucked with and survived. It’s me. And I am just some normal dude on the internet. And yet I can’t speak loud enough in mainstream society to get people to understand I have a point. That people gaslight, gatekeep, and gestapo their way into putting you in your place. The shit I’ve seen here in America let alone Chicago would have Germany in 1940 blushing. And yet, I don’t really put up with any of it. It’s fucking clown show level cosplay. Rich people who think they can walk through walls of ethics, privacy and culture to throw around their weight. People don’t like me these days because I interfere with them directly making a profit. Imagine that. I’ve been targeted for everything. Made to look like I’m crazy, old and alone. And now I have to deal with billionaires afraid of where I’ve invested my meager retirement funds. And I deal with it everyday. Sharks swimming around me in Teslas and T-Shirts trying to intimidate me into throwing in the towel. After the towel was thrown at me repeatedly. I can’t explain how ridiculous this is. I can explain how insensitive it is to throw a fucking tampon in the laundry room when your neighbors are gender queer. And then as an ally, people think it’s my job to confront this. I do. I put all in the trash where it belongs. Where the racoons and my civil rights still dwell. You don’t need these people in your business. You don’t need to feel guilted by the oppressor into thinking there is something wrong with you not trusting authority. They openly lie, plot and spread deceit. So don’t let them into your scenes, movements or personal lives and move on.

This is easy to say when you live outside the blast radius of culture war. I happen to enjoy the freedom of living in a city just as much as everybody. It is something else to manage the personal and organizational politics therein. New York to me is a little less pretentious and stuck up about the status quo than the midwest. The midwest is clingy and clumsy about how it asserts it’s power in a vacuum. And Chicago right now is just one huge lawless fucking vacuum. I would love to write about it. Maybe even sit down for a chat with the Mayor about how she plans to fuck up the next two years of being half in control. But we all know I’ll never make it as a journalist. I’ll never have the opportunity here to be acknowledged as a writer. I’ll never be recognized for anything I’ve ever done because it would require an inconvenient truth to be brought out into the open. You only make it in this town if you are connected. You only get to be free if you let the powers that be have their say. It’s only ok to survive if you are transparent in everything you do. And when you are, your information is spread out to the point it’s a liability at best. People already know everything about you including where you fit in the hierarchy of capitalism. I belong on the outskirts with all the “freaks.” Being bullied like it’s 1990 all over again. These people never learned to be better. So they simply get off on judging everybody else by their lackluster fucking standards. You can stand up to them. You can learn how to tell if someone is being genuine or trying to subvert your power. You can say no. You can not let these fuckers into your most trusted places and spaces. And you can fuck with them back if they do. For me, it’s not a good look for me to take the bait. This entire process has been hopeless to me. I have learned nothing good about how real society operates at its bitter core. What I can tell you is this. People tell you whatever they think will make you feel good. And if you question their motives, they will make you feel guilty first before getting caught in a lie. If you catch them in a lie, they act like you are crazy. And this is the rhythm of how protest, resistance, and freedom is squelched in America. Nobody is fighting back. I would know. Because I am literally exhausted making this point as an ally for years on the internet. We need to organize and yet we’re too busy ripping each other apart. We know we have common ground. We know we connect in genuine ways still. And people are scared to. They’re just coming out of their shells. I think the whole point of things like Pride were to create autonomous zones where people could feel free. To feel like they weren’t judged or watched. I know what it is like to be surveilled on levels I’m embarrassed to share. I live that hell every day of my life for reasons unknown. I don’t know how it was brought on me. It hurts. Every fucking day of my life to be watched and misunderstood. I created a sacred space for myself to communicate this. A place where I can be proud of who I was and talk about it. A place where I could catch my breath and continue to resist and to think. And there’s no shortage of right wing nuts who argue their stupid clubhouses need to be protected by a flag most people wipe their ass with. Respect is a two way street. I’m just directing traffic. And I’m warning people around my neighborhood specifically. I’ve seen the passive aggressive judgmental bullshit go too far and I’m not going to let it go by unnoticed. I know just who is completely full of shit out here and why. And people trust that I know because it’s my job to pay attention to detail. I don’t get paid shit to be a good person. But you don’t get away with being racist, homophobic, transphobic or any other shit like that on my watch. I will let you know on site. One tampon at a time. <3 Tim

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rebelgirlmatrix1213 · 7 years ago

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6. for the pride month asks on your questioning process

I'd say I'm still around the questioning phase, mostly cause finding yourself out is pretty difficult and confusing. It all started out at a convention actually. My whole life since I learned what it meant I was brainwashed by my own family that being gay was wrong, and I belived them cause no one I really knew or trusted told me otherwise. I was shielded from anything reminiscent of Lgbt and as much as I hate to admit it, I was homophobic. I didn't know any better, and it still upsets me that my family did that to me. Throughout my childhood I never had crushes (that I could remember anyway, I've been told I had one when I was 5). I had crushes on fictional character, but never real boys like my friends, like I was supposed to according to everything is heard. I remember several times when I'd thought a girl really pretty but I'd mentally tell myself "But not it 'that' way". Heck I remember asking my mom if it'd be ok to kiss my best friend when I was 7 or 8 (at that time I didnt even know being gay or anything else existed) But one year I went to a con and had an experience, or more an epiphany that changed how I thought about lgbt. I realized that nothing anyone is doing in this community is "wrong", I guess unless you're just super religious. What makes other people happy, and who other people are is non of our business and they aren't harming any one. Then I started thinking about myself. I don't remember when exactly it happened, but I do remember a conversation with my best friend, telling her about this time I saw a girl and accidentally ended up staring cause I thought she was so pretty, and I remember telling her "I don't think I'd mind dating a girl" , and she suggested I might be bi-curious. And suddenly I started noticing my own though processes more. And somewhere along that line, I got my first crush. It was insane. I finally knew what it felt like. It was a friend who was going by non binary at the time but who is now genderfluid. It low key sucked though cause they're hella taken and probably gonna marry their gf. But at least I knew how I felt. I don't care what the person's gender or lack their of is, if I like someone, I'm goong to like them for them. And I started alternating from bi to pan. I use them both, even though I know most people don't do that. I guess I'm just more comfortable with bi cause it's the first term I used. Anyway I later found the term asexual and I was so so happy cause I had been feeling that way for so long without a word to put to it, and now I had a way to define it. I'm fairly sure I'm Ace but there is a small chance I could be demi-sexual, I won't completely rule it out. But that's the thing about this whole crazy sexuality thing, it takes time, and it can be confusing to label yourself. But it can help you so much. Being able to use labels makes me happy and gives me a sense of community and helps a me identify with other people. They aren't for everyone, but they're there for a reason. And if it takes you a little longer to find yours? That's perfectly fine. I guess this got a bit off track, but to repeat myself from earlier, I guess you could say I'm still questioning. For right now I'm going with bi/panromantic-ace if you'd like something to affiliate me with. And I've never been as happy as I was when I finally found all this out and embraced it. And I'm surrounded by friends who make all my parents phobic bs worth it, so I'd say I'm luckier then most. Sorry this got so long, but if anyone wants to talk to someone about figuring yourself out, my ask box and my dms are open! Thanks for the question!!

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arplis · 4 years ago

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Arplis - News: 2021 LGBTQ Books by Black Authors to Preorder (And 10 That Are Already Out)

Black LGBTQ books got a bump in June of 2020. With the George Floyd protests at their peak and Pride month still happening, lists of queer Black books to buy or preorder built up steam on social media. You Should See Me in a Crown, a Black YA F/F novel, was sold out everywhere. Unfortunately, this follows a pattern that Black and LGBTQ books often see: a peak during Black History Month or Pride month, but forgotten in between. Or, a hateful act will make the news, whether it’s police brutality or violent transphobia or a worrying new law, book lists will go around Twitter, authors will be in the strange position of profiting during a horrible moment for their community, and then public attention will shift to something else. Obviously, these authors deserve support throughout the year. Black LGBTQ novels are still underrepresented — and besides, there are some incredible titles coming out this year even without considering how important the representation is. Not long ago, it would be easy to keep track of all the Black LGBTQ books coming out — or even traditionally published LGBTQ books in general — but luckily, we’re approaching a point where there are enough that you can accidentally overlook a title. Preordering is a great way to both support authors and give your future self a treat! By preordering now, you can help the author, make sure you won’t forget to buy the title, and get fun things in the mail throughout the year. It’s win-win-win! Of course, if you are impatient, there are some Black LGBTQ 2021 titles that are already out, which I will include at the end of the post. You have to read something while you’re waiting for these books to publish, after all! I’ve arranged these by publication date, noted the genre in the title spot, and have indicated the kind of LGBTQ representation included whenever possible. The descriptions are from the publishers. Some of these titles may not yet be set up for preorders: put those on your calendar to order as soon as it’s possible! 29 Black LGBTQ Books to Preorder in 2021 Black Boy Out of Time: A Memoir by Hari Ziyad (March 1, Memoir) One of nineteen children in a blended family, Hari Ziyad was raised by a Hindu Hare Kṛṣṇa mother and a Muslim father. Through reframing their own coming-of-age story, Ziyad takes readers on a powerful journey of growing up queer and Black in Cleveland, Ohio, and of navigating the equally complex path toward finding their true self in New York City. Exploring childhood, gender, race, and the trust that is built, broken, and repaired through generations, Ziyad investigates what it means to live beyond the limited narratives Black children are given and challenges the irreconcilable binaries that restrict them. Heartwarming and heart-wrenching, radical and reflective, Hari Ziyad’s vital memoir is for the outcast, the unheard, the unborn, and the dead. It offers us a new way to think about survival and the necessary disruption of social norms. It looks back in tenderness as well as justified rage, forces us to address where we are now, and, born out of hope, illuminates the possibilities for the future. Queer man How to Dispatch a Human by Stephanie Andrea Allen (March 2, Short Story Collection) In this daring collection of speculative fiction, Stephanie Andrea Allen attends to the lives of Black women, mostly lesbian or queer, all keenly aware of the forces seeking to consume them. A Black lesbian working the gig economy runs into a trio of motorized scooters and helps them escape from Earth. An enchanted sleep mask gives a woman the gift of slumber, but what will it cost her? A suburban housewife is framed for murder by her homophobic neighbor. And in the follow up to “Luna 6000,” a young woman investigates her mother’s untimely death, and learns the truth about her family. How to Dispatch a Human: Stories and Suggestions is an unapologetic, often humorous, foray into the quotidian magic that envelops Black women’s lives. The eleven stories in this collection are filled with characters who will entice and delight readers as they traverse the worlds around them. With a mix of fabulism, near future, and speculative fictions, Allen reminds us in exquisitely nuanced prose that the fantastical can be found amongst the ordinary. Lesbian and queer women characters Pleasure and Spice (How Sweet It Is #6) by Fiona Zedde (March 2, Erotica) Mayson and Renée are best friends. Two women who’ve known each other for a lifetime and are as different as they are close. Mayson is a free-spirited and out lesbian, and very much desired in her Southern California queer community. Renée, straight and sheltered, is just getting out of a difficult divorce and searching for an escape from her pain. While Mayson slips in and out of affairs, taking pleasure where it bites the sweetest, Renée steps into a dangerous game of anonymous sex-by-dark that transports her to places she’d never dreamed. But the worlds of these two friends are heading for a dramatic collision. At the end of it all, will they or their friendship, survive? **A version of this was previously published as Dangerous Pleasures** F/F relationship Learned Reactions (Higher Education #2) by Jayce Ellis (March 9, Romance) Carlton Monroe is finally getting his groove back. After a year playing dad to his nephew and sending him safely off to college, it’s back to his bachelor ways. But when his teenaged niece shows up on his doorstep looking for a permanent home, his plan comes to a screeching halt. Family is everything, and in the eyes of social services, a couple makes a better adoptive family than an overworked bachelor father. A fake relationship with his closest friend is the best way to keep his family together. If things between him and Deion are complicated, well, it only needs to last until the end of the semester. Living with Carlton is a heartbreak waiting to happen, and once the adoption goes through, Deion’s out. He’s waited two decades for Carlton to realize they’re meant for each other, and he’s done. It’s time to make a clean break. But it’s hard to think of moving away when keeping up the act includes some very real perks like kissing, cuddling and sharing a bed. Even the best charades must come to an end, though. As the holidays and Deion’s departure date loom, the two men must decide whether playing house is enough for them—or if there’s any chance they could be a family for real. M/M relationship Black Girl, Call Home by Jasmine Mans (March 9, Poetry) From spoken word poet Jasmine Mans comes an unforgettable poetry collection about race, feminism, and queer identity. With echoes of Gwendolyn Brooks and Sonia Sanchez, Mans writes to call herself—and us—home. Each poem explores what it means to be a daughter of Newark, and America—and the painful, joyous path to adulthood as a young, queer Black woman. Black Girl, Call Home is a love letter to the wandering Black girl and a vital companion to any woman on a journey to find truth, belonging, and healing. Queer woman Bruised by Tanya Boteju (March 23, YA Contemporary) Whip It meets We Are Okay in this vibrant coming-of-age story, about a teen girl navigates first love, identity, and grief when she immerses herself in the colorful, brutal, beautiful world of roller derby—from the acclaimed author of Kings, Queens, and In-Betweens. To Daya Wijesinghe, a bruise is a mixture of comfort and control. Since her parents died in an accident she survived, bruises have become a way to keep her pain on the surface of her skin so she doesn’t need to deal with the ache deep in her heart. So when chance and circumstances bring her to a roller derby bout, Daya is hooked. Yes, the rules are confusing and the sport seems to require the kind of teamwork and human interaction Daya generally avoids. But the opportunities to bruise are countless, and Daya realizes that if she’s going to keep her emotional pain at bay, she’ll need all the opportunities she can get. The deeper Daya immerses herself into the world of roller derby, though, the more she realizes it’s not the simple physical pain-fest she was hoping for. Her rough-and-tumble teammates and their fans push her limits in ways she never imagined, bringing Daya to big truths about love, loss, strength, and healing. F/F relationship The Unbroken (Magic of the Lost #1) by C.L. Clark (March 23, Fantasy) In an epic fantasy unlike any other, two women clash in a world full of rebellion, espionage, and military might on the far outreaches of a crumbling desert empire. Touraine is a soldier. Stolen as a child and raised to kill and die for the empire, her only loyalty is to her fellow conscripts. But now, her company has been sent back to her homeland to stop a rebellion, and the ties of blood may be stronger than she thought. Luca needs a turncoat. Someone desperate enough to tiptoe the bayonet’s edge between treason and orders. Someone who can sway the rebels toward peace, while Luca focuses on what really matters: getting her uncle off her throne. Through assassinations and massacres, in bedrooms and war rooms, Touraine and Luca will haggle over the price of a nation. But some things aren’t for sale. 2 queer women main characters Sweethand by N.G. Peltier (March 30, Romance) After a public meltdown over her breakup from her cheating musician boyfriend, Cherisse swore off guys in the music industry, and dating in general for a while, preferring to focus on growing her pastry chef business. When Cherisse’s younger sister reveals she’s getting married in a few months, Cherisse hopes that will distract her mother enough to quit harassing her about finding a guy, settling down and having kids. But her mother’s matchmaking keeps intensifying. Cherisse tries to humour her mother, hoping if she feigns interest in the eligible bachelors she keeps tossing her way, she’ll be off the hook, but things don’t quite go as planned. Turns out for the first time in ages, she and Keiran King, the most annoying man ever, are on the island at the same time. Avoiding him is impossible, especially when Keiran’s close friend is the one marrying her sister, and he’s the best man to her maid of honour. Keiran doesn’t know what to make of Cherisse now. They’ve always butted heads. To him she’s always been a stuck-up brat who seeks attention, even while he secretly harbored a crush on her. Now with Cherisse’s sister marrying one of his good friends he can’t escape her as the wedding activities keep throwing them together. When things turn heated after a rainy night of bedroom fun, they both have to figure out if they can survive the countdown to wedding day, without this turning into a recipe for disaster. Bisexual man (M/F relationship) I’m a Wild Seed by Sharon Lee De La Cruz (April 6, Graphic Memoir) A collection of lively autobiographical comics guiding the reader through an understanding of queerness and what it means to one woman of color. In this delightfully compelling full-color graphic memoir, the author shares her process of undoing the effects of a patriarchal, colonial society on her self-image, her sexuality, and her concept of freedom. Reflecting on the ways in which oppression was the cause for her late bloom into queerness, we are invited to discover people and things in the author’s life that helped shape and inform her LGBTQ identity. And we come to an understanding of her holistic definition of queerness. Queer woman The Essential June Jordan Edited Jan Heller Levi and Christoph Keller (May 4, Poetry) The Essential June Jordan honors the enduring legacy of a poet fiercely dedicated to building a better world. In this definitive volume, introduced by Pulitzer Prize winner Jericho Brown, June Jordan’s generous body of poetry is distilled and curated to represent the very best of her works. Written over the span of several decades―from Some Changes in 1971 to Last Poems in 2001―Jordan’s poems are at once of their era and tragically current, with subject matter including racist police brutality, violence against women, and the opportunity for global solidarity amongst people who are marginalized or outside of the norm. In these poems of great immediacy and radical kindness, humor and embodied candor, readers will (re)discover a voice that has inspired generations of contemporary poets to write their truths. June Jordan is a powerful voice of the time-honored movement for justice, a poet for the ages. Introduced by Jericho Brown, winner of the 2020 Pulitzer prize in poetry. Bisexual woman Renunciations by Donika Kelly (May 4, Poetry) An extraordinary collection of endurance and transformation by the award-winning author of Bestiary The Renunciations is a book of resilience, survival, and the journey to radically shift one’s sense of self in the face of trauma. Moving between a childhood marked by love and abuse and the breaking marriage of that adult child, Donika Kelly charts memory and the body as landscapes to be traversed and tended. These poems construct life rafts and sanctuaries even in their most devastating confrontations with what a person can bear, with how families harm themselves. With the companionship of “the oracle”―an observer of memory who knows how each close call with oblivion ends―the act of remembrance becomes curative, and personal mythologies give way to a future defined less by wounds than by possibility. In this gorgeous and heartrending second collection, we find the home one builds inside oneself after reckoning with a legacy of trauma―a home whose construction starts “with a razing.” Lesbian author Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee (May 4, YA Contemporary) Noah Ramirez thinks he’s an expert on romance. He has to be for his popular blog, the Meet Cute Diary, a collection of trans happily ever afters. There’s just one problem—all the stories are fake. What started as the fantasies of a trans boy afraid to step out of the closet has grown into a beacon of hope for trans readers across the globe. When a troll exposes the blog as fiction, Noah’s world unravels. The only way to save the Diary is to convince everyone that the stories are true, but he doesn’t have any proof. Then Drew walks into Noah’s life, and the pieces fall into place: Drew is willing to fake-date Noah to save the Diary. But when Noah’s feelings grow beyond their staged romance, he realizes that dating in real life isn’t quite the same as finding love on the page. In this charming novel by Emery Lee, Noah will have to choose between following his own rules for love or discovering that the most romantic endings are the ones that go off script. Trans man, M/M relationship Sorrowland by Rivers Solomon (May 4, Science Fiction) Vern―seven months pregnant and desperate to escape the strict religious compound where she was raised―flees for the shelter of the woods. There, she gives birth to twins, and plans to raise them far from the influence of the outside world. But even in the forest, Vern is a hunted woman. Forced to fight back against the community that refuses to let her go, she unleashes incredible brutality far beyond what a person should be capable of, her body wracked by inexplicable and uncanny changes. To understand her metamorphosis and to protect her small family, Vern has to face the past, and more troublingly, the future―outside the woods. Finding the truth will mean uncovering the secrets of the compound she fled but also the violent history in America that produced it. Rivers Solomon’s Sorrowland is a genre-bending work of Gothic fiction. Here, monsters aren’t just individuals, but entire nations. It is a searing, seminal book that marks the arrival of a bold, unignorable voice in American fiction. Queer, non-binary author (not sure of specific representation, likely F/F) A Master of Djinn by P. Djèlí Clark (May 11, Fantasy) Cairo, 1912: Though Fatma el-Sha’arawi is the youngest woman working for the Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments and Supernatural Entities, she’s certainly not a rookie, especially after preventing the destruction of the universe last summer. So when someone murders a secret brotherhood dedicated to one of the most famous men in history, al-Jahiz, Agent Fatma is called onto the case. Al-Jahiz transformed the world forty years ago when he opened up the veil between the magical and mundane realms, before vanishing into the unknown. This murderer claims to be al-Jahiz, returned to condemn the modern age for its social oppressions. His dangerous magical abilities instigate unrest in the streets of Cairo that threaten to spill over onto the global stage. Alongside her Ministry colleagues and a familiar person from her past, Agent Fatma must unravel the mystery behind this imposter to restore peace to the city―or face the possibility he could be exactly who he seems… F/F relationship Thanks a Lot, Universe by Chad Lucas (May 11, Middle Grade Contemporary) Brian has always been anxious, whether at home, or in class, or on the basketball court. His dad tries to get him to stand up for himself and his mom helps as much as she can, but after he and his brother are placed in foster care, Brian starts having panic attacks. And he doesn’t know if things will ever be normal again . . . Ezra’s always been popular. He’s friends with most of the kids on his basketball team, even Brian, who usually keeps to himself. But now, some of his friends have been acting differently, and Brian seems to be pulling away. Ezra wants to help, but he worries if he’s too nice to Brian, his friends will realize that he has a crush on him . . . But when Brian and his brother run away, Ezra has no choice but to take the leap and reach out. Both boys have to decide if they’re willing to risk sharing parts of themselves they’d rather hide. But if they can be brave, they might just find the best in themselves and each other. M/M crush Punch Me Up to the Gods: A Memoir by Brian Broome (May 28, Memoir) Punch Me Up to the Gods introduces a powerful new talent in Brian Broome, whose early years growing up in Ohio as a dark-skinned Black boy harboring crushes on other boys propel forward this gorgeous, aching, and unforgettable debut. Brian’s recounting of his experiences—in all their cringe-worthy, hilarious, and heartbreaking glory—reveal a perpetual outsider awkwardly squirming to find his way in. Indiscriminate sex and escalating drug use help to soothe his hurt, young psyche, usually to uproarious and devastating effect. A no-nonsense mother and broken father play crucial roles in our misfit’s origin story. But it is Brian’s voice in the retelling that shows the true depth of vulnerability for young Black boys that is often quietly near to bursting at the seams. Cleverly framed around Gwendolyn Brooks’s poem “We Real Cool,” the iconic and loving ode to Black boyhood, Punch Me Up to the Gods is at once playful, poignant, and wholly original. Broome’s writing brims with swagger and sensitivity, bringing an exquisite and fresh voice to ongoing cultural conversations about Blackness in America. Queer man Off the Record by Camryn Garrett (May 18, YA Contemporary) Ever since seventeen-year-old Josie Wright can remember, writing has been her identity, the thing that grounds her when everything else is a garbage fire. So when she wins a contest to write a celebrity profile for Deep Focus magazine, she’s equal parts excited and scared, but also ready. She’s got this. Soon Josie is jetting off on a multi-city tour, rubbing elbows with sparkly celebrities, frenetic handlers, stone-faced producers, and eccentric stylists. She even finds herself catching feelings for the subject of her profile, dazzling young newcomer Marius Canet. Josie’s world is expanding so rapidly, she doesn’t know whether she’s flying or falling. But when a young actress lets her in on a terrible secret, the answer is clear: she’s in over her head. One woman’s account leads to another and another. Josie wants to expose the man responsible, but she’s reluctant to speak up, unsure if this is her story to tell. What if she lets down the women who have entrusted her with their stories? What if this ends her writing career before it even begins? There are so many reasons not to go ahead, but if Josie doesn’t step up, who will? From the author of Full Disclosure, this is a moving testament to the #MeToo movement, and all the ways women stand up for each other. Bisexual woman How to Find a Princess (Runaway Royals #2) by Alyssa Cole (May 25, Romance) New York Times and USA Today bestseller Alyssa Cole’s second Runaway Royals novel is a queer Anastasia retelling, featuring a long-lost princess who finds love with the female investigator tasked with tracking her down. Makeda Hicks has lost her job and her girlfriend in one fell swoop. The last thing she’s in the mood for is to rehash the story of her grandmother’s infamous summer fling with a runaway prince from Ibarania, or the investigator from the World Federation of Monarchies tasked with searching for Ibarania’s missing heir. Yet when Beznaria Chetchevaliere crashes into her life, the sleek and sexy investigator exudes exactly the kind of chaos that organized and efficient Makeda finds irresistible, even if Bez is determined to drag her into a world of royal duty Makeda wants nothing to do with. When a threat to her grandmother’s livelihood pushes Makeda to agree to return to Ibarania, Bez takes her on a transatlantic adventure with a crew of lovable weirdos, a fake marriage, and one-bed hijinks on the high seas. When they finally make it to Ibarania, they realize there’s more at stake than just cash and crown, and Makeda must learn what it means to fight for what she desires and not what she feels bound to by duty. F/F relationship Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé (June 1, YA Thriller) All you need to know is . . . I’m here to divide and conquer. Like all great tyrants do. ―Aces When two Niveus Private Academy students, Devon Richards and Chiamaka Adebayo, are selected to be part of the elite school’s senior class prefects, it looks like their year is off to an amazing start. After all, not only does it look great on college applications, but it officially puts each of them in the running for valedictorian, too. Shortly after the announcement is made, though, someone who goes by Aces begins using anonymous text messages to reveal secrets about the two of them that turn their lives upside down and threaten every aspect of their carefully planned futures. As Aces shows no sign of stopping, what seemed like a sick prank quickly turns into a dangerous game, with all the cards stacked against them. Can Devon and Chiamaka stop Aces before things become incredibly deadly? Gay man and lesbian main characters Dead Dead Girls by Nekesa Afia (June 1, Mystery) Harlem, 1926. Young black women like Louise Lloyd are ending up dead. Following a harrowing kidnapping ordeal when she was in her teens, Louise is doing everything she can to maintain a normal life. She’s succeeding, too. She spends her days working at Maggie’s Café and her nights at the Zodiac, Harlem’s hottest speakeasy. Louise’s friends, especially her girlfriend, Rosa Maria Moreno, might say she’s running from her past and the notoriety that still stalks her, but don’t tell her that. When a girl turns up dead in front of the café, Louise is forced to confront something she’s been trying to ignore—two other local black girls have been murdered in the past few weeks. After an altercation with a police officer gets her arrested, Louise is given an ultimatum: She can either help solve the case or wind up in a jail cell. Louise has no choice but to investigate and soon finds herself toe-to-toe with a murderous mastermind hell-bent on taking more lives, maybe even her own…. Sapphic main character The Passing Playbook by Isaac Fitzsimons (June 1, YA Contemporary) Fifteen-year-old Spencer Harris is a proud nerd, an awesome big brother, and a David Beckham in training. He’s also transgender. After transitioning at his old school leads to a year of isolation and bullying, Spencer gets a fresh start at Oakley, the most liberal private school in Ohio. At Oakley, Spencer seems to have it all: more accepting classmates, a decent shot at a starting position on the boys’ soccer team, great new friends, and maybe even something more than friendship with one of his teammates. The problem is, no one at Oakley knows Spencer is trans—he’s passing. But when a discriminatory law forces Spencer’s coach to bench him, Spencer has to make a choice: cheer his team on from the sidelines or publicly fight for his right to play, even though it would mean coming out to everyone—including the guy he’s falling for. Trans man, M/M relationship Filthy Animals by Brandon Taylor (June 22, Short Story Collection) In the series of linked stories at the heart of Filthy Animals, set among young creatives in the American Midwest, a young man treads delicate emotional waters as he navigates a series of sexually fraught encounters with two dancers in an open relationship, forcing him to weigh his vulnerabilities against his loneliness. In other stories, a young woman battles with the cancers draining her body and her family; menacing undercurrents among a group of teenagers explode in violence on a winter night; a little girl tears through a house like a tornado, driving her babysitter to the brink; and couples feel out the jagged edges of connection, comfort, and cruelty. One of the breakout literary stars of 2020, Brandon Taylor has been hailed by Roxane Gay as “a writer who wields his craft in absolutely unforgettable ways.” With Filthy Animals he renews and expands on the promise made in Real Life, training his precise and unsentimental gaze on the tensions among friends and family, lovers and others. Psychologically taut and quietly devastating, Filthy Animals is a tender portrait of the fierce longing for intimacy, the lingering presence of pain, and the desire for love in a world that seems, more often than not, to withhold it. LGBTQ characters Darling by K. Ancrum (June 23, YA Fantasy) A teen girl finds herself lost on a dangerous adventure in this YA thriller by the acclaimed author of The Wicker King and The Weight of the Stars―reimagining Peter Pan for today’s world. On Wendy Darling’s first night in Chicago, a boy called Peter appears at her window. He’s dizzying, captivating, beautiful―so she agrees to join him for a night on the town. Wendy thinks they’re heading to a party, but instead they’re soon running in the city’s underground. She makes friends―a punk girl named Tinkerbelle and the lost boys Peter watches over. And she makes enemies―the terrifying Detective Hook, and maybe Peter himself, as his sinister secrets start coming to light. Can Wendy find the courage to survive this night―and make sure everyone else does, too? Multiple queer side characters, including asexual, lesbian, and bisexual characters This Poison Heart by Kalynn Bayron (June 29, YA Fantasy) Briseis has a gift: she can grow plants from tiny seeds to rich blooms with a single touch. When Briseis’s aunt dies and wills her a dilapidated estate in rural New York, Bri and her parents decide to leave Brooklyn behind for the summer. Hopefully there, surrounded by plants and flowers, Bri will finally learn to control her gift. But their new home is sinister in ways they could never have imagined–it comes with a specific set of instructions, an old-school apothecary, and a walled garden filled with the deadliest botanicals in the world that can only be entered by those who share Bri’s unique family lineage. When strangers begin to arrive on their doorstep, asking for tinctures and elixirs, Bri learns she has a surprising talent for creating them. One of the visitors is Marie, a mysterious young woman who Bri befriends, only to find that Marie is keeping dark secrets about the history of the estate and its surrounding community. There is more to Bri’s sudden inheritance than she could have imagined, and she is determined to uncover it . . . until a nefarious group comes after her in search of a rare and dangerous immortality elixir. Up against a centuries-old curse and the deadliest plant on earth, Bri must harness her gift to protect herself and her family. From the bestselling author of Cinderella Is Dead comes another inspiring and deeply compelling story about a young woman with the power to conquer the dark forces descending around her. Queer woman Rise to the Sun by Leah Johnson (July 6, YA) A stunning novel about being brave enough to be true to yourself, and learning to find joy even when times are unimaginably dark. Three days. Two girls. One life-changing music festival. Toni is grieving the loss of her roadie father and needing to figure out where her life will go from here — and she’s desperate to get back to loving music. Olivia is a hopeless romantic whose heart has just taken a beating (again) and is beginning to feel like she’ll always be a square peg in a round hole — but the Farmland Music and Arts Festival is a chance to find a place where she fits. The two collide and it feels like something like kismet when a bond begins to form. But when something goes wrong and the festival is sent into a panic, Olivia and Toni will find that they need each other (and music) more than they ever imagined. F/F relationship The Taking of Jake Livingston by Ryan Douglass (July 13, YA Horror) Get Out meets Danielle Vega in this YA social thriller where survival is not a guarantee. Sixteen-year-old Jake Livingston sees dead people everywhere. But he can’t decide what’s worse: being a medium forced to watch the dead play out their last moments on a loop or being at the mercy of racist teachers as one of the few Black students at St. Clair Prep. Both are a living nightmare he wishes he could wake up from. But things at St. Clair start looking up with the arrival of another Black student–the handsome Allister–and for the first time, romance is on the horizon for Jake. Unfortunately, life as a medium is getting worse. Though most ghosts are harmless and Jake is always happy to help them move on to the next place, Sawyer Doon wants much more from Jake. In life, Sawyer was a troubled teen who shot and killed six kids at a local high school before taking his own life. Now he’s a powerful, vengeful ghost and he has plans for Jake. Suddenly, everything Jake knows about dead world goes out the window as Sawyer begins to haunt him. High school soon becomes a different kind of survival game–one Jake is not sure he can win. Gay man main character Busy Ain’t the Half of It by Frederick Smith and Chaz Lamar (August 1, Romance) Elijah Golden and Justin Monroe are uncle and nephew with eclectic careers, friends, and family in LA, trying to center Black Joy in their lives.Then their worlds turn in ways nobody expects. Elijah, a dedicated thespian, auditions by day, does theater by night, and works two jobs on weekends. With enough life for three people, he keeps his recently divorced partner Zaire coasting on bliss…until secrets and real-life dramas test their love. Justin, Elijah’s uncle, is a single father with teenage twins, and a tv journalist who’s been replaced at the anchor desk when new management arrives. No longer in the public eye, living true to his sexuality is something Justin can finally do. Dating and romance—Justin’s ready for fun. Conflicts with fatherhood and career—he’ll have none. Elijah and Justin seek happily-ever-afters, but are they too busy to notice happy when it’s there? M/M relationship No Gods, No Monsters by Cadwell Turnbull (September 7, Science Fiction) One October morning, Laina gets the news that her brother was shot and killed by Boston cops. But what looks like a case of police brutality soon reveals something much stranger. Monsters are real. And they want everyone to know it. As creatures from myth and legend come out of the shadows, seeking safety through visibility, their emergence sets off a chain of seemingly unrelated events. Members of a local werewolf pack are threatened into silence. A professor follows a missing friend’s trail of bread crumbs to a mysterious secret society. And a young boy with unique abilities seeks refuge in a pro-monster organization with secrets of its own. Meanwhile, more people start disappearing, suicides and hate crimes increase, and protests erupt globally, both for and against the monsters. At the center is a mystery no one thinks to ask: Why now? What has frightened the monsters out of the dark? The world will soon find out. Trans and asexual main characters Things We Couldn’t Say by Jay Coles (September 21, YA Contemporary) There’s always been a hole in Gio’s life. Not because he’s into both guys and girls. Not because his father has some drinking issues. Not because his friends are always bringing him their drama. No, the hole in Gio’s life takes the shape of his birth mom, who left Gio, his brother, and his father when Gio was nine years old. For eight years, he never heard a word from her . . . and now, just as he’s started to get his life together, she’s back. It’s hard for Gio to know what to do. Can he forgive her like she wants to be forgiven? Or should he tell her she lost her chance to be in his life? Complicating things further, Gio’s started to hang out with David, a new guy on the basketball team. Are they friends? More than friends? At first, Gio’s not sure . . . especially because he’s not sure what he wants from anyone right now. There are no easy answers to love — whether it’s family love or friend love or romantic love. In Things We Couldn’t Say, Jay Coles, acclaimed author of Tyler Johnson Was Here, shows us a guy trying to navigate love in all its ambiguity — hoping at the other end he’ll be able to figure out who is and who he should be. Bisexual man Note: This is not a complete list! We will likely be hearing more about the Aug-Dec releases later in the year. 2021 Black LGBTQ Books Out Now If you’re too impatient to wait for upcoming releases, here are ten 2021 LGBTQ books by Black authors that are already out! They are ordered by genre. Honey Girl by Morgan Rogers (Fiction) When becoming an adult means learning to love yourself first. With her newly completed PhD in astronomy in hand, twenty-eight-year-old Grace Porter goes on a girls’ trip to Vegas to celebrate. She’s a straight A, work-through-the-summer certified high achiever. She is not the kind of person who goes to Vegas and gets drunkenly married to a woman whose name she doesn’t know…until she does exactly that. This one moment of departure from her stern ex-military father’s plans for her life has Grace wondering why she doesn’t feel more fulfilled from completing her degree. Staggering under the weight of her parent’s expectations, a struggling job market and feelings of burnout, Grace flees her home in Portland for a summer in New York with the wife she barely knows. In New York, she’s able to ignore all the constant questions about her future plans and falls hard for her creative and beautiful wife, Yuki Yamamoto. But when reality comes crashing in, Grace must face what she’s been running from all along—the fears that make us human, the family scars that need to heal and the longing for connection, especially when navigating the messiness of adulthood. F/F relationship 100 Boyfriends by Brontez Purnell (Short Story Collection) An irrerverent, sensitive, and inimitable look at gay dysfunction through the eyes of a cult hero Transgressive, foulmouthed, and brutally funny, Brontez Purnell’s 100 Boyfriends is a revelatory spiral into the imperfect lives of queer men desperately fighting the urge to self-sabotage. As they tiptoe through minefields of romantic, substance-fueled misadventure―from dirty warehouses and gentrified bars in Oakland to desolate farm towns in Alabama―Purnell’s characters strive for belonging in a world that dismisses them for being Black, broke, and queer. In spite of it―or perhaps because of it―they shine. Armed with a deadpan wit, Purnell finds humor in even the darkest of nadirs with the peerless zeal, insight, and horniness of a gay punk messiah. Together, the slice-of-life tales that writhe within 100 Boyfriends are an inimitable tour of an unexposed queer underbelly. Holding them together is the vision of an iconoclastic storyteller, as fearless as he is human. Queer men main characters The Prophets by Robert Jones Jr (Historical Fiction) A singular and stunning debut novel about the forbidden union between two enslaved young men on a Deep South plantation, the refuge they find in each other, and a betrayal that threatens their existence. Isaiah was Samuel’s and Samuel was Isaiah’s. That was the way it was since the beginning, and the way it was to be until the end. In the barn they tended to the animals, but also to each other, transforming the hollowed-out shed into a place of human refuge, a source of intimacy and hope in a world ruled by vicious masters. But when an older man—a fellow slave—seeks to gain favor by preaching the master’s gospel on the plantation, the enslaved begin to turn on their own. Isaiah and Samuel’s love, which was once so simple, is seen as sinful and a clear danger to the plantation’s harmony. With a lyricism reminiscent of Toni Morrison, Robert Jones, Jr., fiercely summons the voices of slaver and enslaved alike, from Isaiah and Samuel to the calculating slave master to the long line of women that surround them, women who have carried the soul of the plantation on their shoulders. As tensions build and the weight of centuries—of ancestors and future generations to come—culminates in a climactic reckoning, The Prophets masterfully reveals the pain and suffering of inheritance, but is also shot through with hope, beauty, and truth, portraying the enormous, heroic power of love. M/M relationship Love’s Divine by Ava Freeman (Romance) Go on vacation? Check. Sip cocktails and relax on the beach? Check. Fall in love? Definitely not on the list. On a whim, Genesis Malone decides to book a solo trip to the island of Barbados. A sunny beach vacation sounds like the perfect way to renew her spirit after a heartbreaking divorce. The trip takes an unexpected turn when she meets a woman who could be just what she needs to move on. That is if her heart, and the universe, will let her. Zuri Baker seems to have it all but what she really wants is someone to share her life with. When she meets Genesis, she is intrigued by her quiet nature and longs to get to know her better. Too bad her on-again off-again girlfriend isn’t willing to let her go quite so easily. When they return to their regular lives and find themselves in the midst of exes, not quite exes, and work drama, will they be able to hold onto what matters most; each other? F/F relationship Masquerade by Anne Shade (Historical Romance) Harlem, New York, 1925 is a mecca of cultural and creative freedom, where masquerade drag balls are all the rage and the music, dancing, and loose prohibition laws unite people from all walks of life. Dinah Hampton came to Harlem for better opportunities for her family but ends up working as a nightclub chorus girl to help make ends meet. Among the nightlife and danger, she finds love in the most unexpected way. When a scandal rocks Celine Montre’s family and sends them fleeing from New Orleans to Harlem, the gorgeous Dinah Hampton helps her to discover that there’s more to life, and love, than she ever thought possible. When a notorious gangster sets her sights on seducing Celine, Dinah and Celine are forced to risk their hearts, and lives, for love. F/F relationship Symbiosis (Escaping Exodus #2) by Nicky Drayden (Science Fiction) Nearly a thousand years removed from Earth, the remnants of humanity cling to existence inside giant, space faring creatures known as the Zenzee. Abused and exploited by humans for generations, these majestic animals nearly went extinct, but under the command of its newly minted ruler, Doka Kaleigh, life in the Parados I has flourished. Thanks to careful oversight and sacrifice by all of its crew, they are now on the brink of utopia, and yet Doka’s rivals feel threatened by that success. The Senate allowed Doka to lead their people believing he’d fail spectacularly—a disaster that would cement the legitimacy of their long-standing matriarchy. Despite vocal opposition and blatant attacks on his authority, Doka has continued to handle his position with grace and intelligence; he knows a single misstep means disaster. When a cataclysmic event on another Zenzee world forces Doka and his people to accept thousands of refugees, a culture clash erupts, revealing secrets from the past that could endanger their future. For Doka, the stakes are bigger and more personal than ever before—and could cost him his reign and his heart. He has fallen for the one woman he is forbidden to love: his wife, Seske. Doka and Seske must work closely together to sway the other Zenzee worlds to stop their cycles of destruction. But when they stumble upon a discovery that can transform their world, they know they must prepare to fight a battle where there can be no winners, only survivors. Sapphic main character Soulstar (The Kingston Cycle #3) by C.L. Polk (Fantasy) With Soulstar, C. L. Polk concludes her riveting Kingston Cycle, a whirlwind of magic, politics, romance, and intrigue that began with the World Fantasy Award-winning Witchmark. Assassinations, deadly storms, and long-lost love haunt the pages of this thrilling final volume. For years, Robin Thorpe has kept her head down, staying among her people in the Riverside neighborhood and hiding the magic that would have her imprisoned by the state. But when Grace Hensley comes knocking on Clan Thorpe’s door, Robin’s days of hiding are at an end. As freed witches flood the streets of Kingston, scrambling to reintegrate with a kingdom that destroyed their lives, Robin begins to plot a course that will ensure a freer, juster Aeland. At the same time, she has to face her long-bottled feelings for the childhood love that vanished into an asylum twenty years ago. Can Robin find happiness among the rising tides of revolution? Can Kingston survive the blizzards that threaten, the desperate monarchy, and the birth throes of democracy? Find out as the Kingston Cycle comes to an end. Nonbinary love interest One of the Good Ones by Maika Moulite and Maritza Moulite (YA Contemporary) When teen social activist and history buff Kezi Smith is killed under mysterious circumstances after attending a social justice rally, her devastated sister Happi and their family are left reeling in the aftermath. As Kezi becomes another immortalized victim in the fight against police brutality, Happi begins to question the idealized way her sister is remembered. Perfect. Angelic. One of the good ones. Even as the phrase rings wrong in her mind—why are only certain people deemed worthy to be missed?—Happi and her sister Genny embark on a journey to honor Kezi in their own way, using an heirloom copy of The Negro Motorist Green Book as their guide. But there’s a twist to Kezi’s story that no one could’ve ever expected—one that will change everything all over again. Lesbian main character Yesterday Is History by Kosoko Jackson (YA Time Travel) Weeks ago, Andre Cobb received a much-needed liver transplant. He’s ready for his life to finally begin, until one night, when he passes out and wakes up somewhere totally unexpected…in 1969, where he connects with a magnetic boy named Michael. And then, just as suddenly as he arrived, he slips back to present-day Boston, where the family of his donor is waiting to explain that his new liver came with a side effect―the ability to time travel. And they’ve tasked their youngest son, Blake, with teaching Andre how to use his unexpected new gift. Andre splits his time bouncing between the past and future. Between Michael and Blake. Michael is everything Andre wishes he could be, and Blake, still reeling from the death of his brother, Andre’s donor, keeps him at arm’s length despite their obvious attraction to each other. Torn between two boys, one in the past and one in the present, Andre has to figure out where he belongs―and more importantly who he wants to be―before the consequences of jumping in time catch up to him and change his future for good. Gay man main character Mouths of Rain : An Anthology of Black Lesbian Thought Edited by Briona Simone Jones (Nonfiction) African American lesbian writers and theorists have made extraordinary contributions to feminist theory, activism, and writing. Mouths of Rain, the companion anthology to Beverly Guy-Sheftall’s classic Words of Fire, traces the long history of intellectual thought produced by Black Lesbian writers, spanning the nineteenth century through the twenty-first century. Using “Black Lesbian” as a capacious signifier, Mouths of Rain includes writing by Black women who have shared intimate and loving relationships with other women, as well as Black women who see bonding as mutual, Black women who have self-identified as lesbian, Black women who have written about Black Lesbians, and Black women who theorize about and see the word lesbian as a political descriptor that disrupts and critiques capitalism, heterosexism, and heteropatriarchy. Taking its title from a poem by Audre Lorde, Mouths of Rain addresses pervasive issues such as misogynoir and anti-blackness while also attending to love, romance, “coming out,” and the erotic. Lesbian Looking for More Black LGBTQ Books? Of course, there are plenty of Black LGBTQ books from years past that are also worth reading! Here are some helpful resources to find more: Black Lesbian Literary Collective Sistahs on the Shelf YA Pride’s Queer YA Books by Black Authors Spreadsheet LGBTQ Reads’s Black History Month post I also discovered Jonathan’s To Be Black and Loved BookTube channel in the course of research for this post, and I sourced some titles from the video “Black & Queer Book Releases 2021 | YA & Adult Fiction.” Here on Book Riot, you might also want to check out: 20 Must-Read Black Authors of LGBTQ Books 6 of the Best Audiobooks by Queer Black Authors The videos Queer 2020 Releases by Black Authors�� and Black LGBTQ YA Titles Published in 2020 !doctype> #BlackAuthors #LGBTQ #RiotRundownSubjectLinePost #Featured #Lists

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/2021-lgbtq-books-by-black-authors-to-preorder-and-10-that-are-already-out

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