but the part of my mind that screams for gay love

100 Dialogue Prompts: Part 4

It’s amazing to see how much we can create together, my amigos. Here’s part 4.

  1. “Look, I might be evil but even I have standards.”
  2. “Do your parents know you’re dating Death?” “No, I promised we wouldn’t get back together after he broke up with me the first time.”
  3. “Wait why am I naked and covered in cheese?”
  4. “Good god, that cake is fuckin stale and dry mate!!” “Just like how you are recently? Gee, thanks.”
  5. "There is always time for a high-five.”
  6. “Karen, what would ever posses you to find me here.”
  7. “Oh my god, put that man down! Come on, let’s go get you some REAL food.”
  8. “A demonic sugar glider?”
  9. “People always say they never thought they would be here but I absolutely did.”
  10. “And I thought I was a bit weird. But you! You are insane!”
  11. “So your hair knows kung-fu? Ha, that’s nothing! MY hair knows HAIR-ATE!” (You know, as in karate) (This used to be an insider between me and a friend…)
  12. “One day, darling, you and I are going to conquer the Universe not just our world.”
  13. “Did you seriously think they wouldn’t notice when their humans went missing?!”
  14. “Well, maybe next time you should consider that not everyone wants to be woken up at four in the morning by a- what IS that, anyway?!”
  15. “Now, how exactly did your foot get stuck in the barrel?”
  16. “I hope you realize what you’re doing. This forest never ends, you know that, right?”
  17. “You can’t just kill someone and then make it all better by saying sorry!”
  18. “Why the fuck is my cat levitating?!” “He said he wanted to feel what flying was”
  19. “You’re trying to tell me you killed three men…with a microphone?”
  20. “Hang on, are you a John Wick fan?”
  21. “IT’S TWO IN THE MORNING!” “And?” “ I have a strict no murder rule until eight. Call me then.”
  22. “I did realize you were going to be naked the whole time”
  23. “Ok, I understand you like animals, but you can’t just bring a tiger into the apparent without asking!”
  24. “I…I didn’t want you to find out like this. I’m so sorry.”
  25. “OH MY GOD CATHERINE! I JUST SAW A NARWHAL! I’M TELLING YOU, I SAW A FREAKIN’ WHALE UNICORN!”
  26. “I gotta go, I left my toaster in the oven!
  27. "Why is there a gaggle of fancy buisness men on my front lawn?”
  28. “Can you please stop referring to me as ____! That’s not my name!” “Then what is?” “I don’t know!”
  29. *Sarcastic* “Yeah, sure. I won’t at all mind being your footslave.” “Oh, goody! I knew you’d agree!” “Wait, what?”
  30. “When are you going to give up on this whole ‘evil’ thing?” “When it stops being so much fun!”
  31. “You didnt say to KILL the man!” “WELL I DIDNT SAY NOT TOO”
  32. “Mum, Dad… I’m gay.” “That’s nice, honey, but now is not the right time!”
  33. “Take a look at your soul and consider your life choices! Oh wait, that’s right! You don’t fucking have a soul!” “Oh, god, just go drown in a bathtub of syrup why don’t ya?”
  34. “I kindly ask you to please quit making your heart stop. It’s creeping me out!” “So… Y-You were sleeping in a coffin” “Yeah I’m used to it” “Are you a vampire or what?! How can someone get used to sleep in a coffin?” “No I’m used to sleep I never said that I’m used to sleep in a freaking coffin!”
  35. “Darling I love you, more than I can ever express in words…. But please stop teaching chickens necromancy.”
  36. “I wanted to know why you stole souls, not your melodramatic backstory…”
  37. “I really wish that old white man would stop rubbing his nipples at me”
  38. “You know it is written: Do not summon Satan, right ?”
  39. “Look around, what is this?” “My room?” “No, this is pathetic.”
  40. “I’ve been a professor for 20 years, and yet still my greatest secret hasn’t been revealed–I can’t read.”
  41. “Our souls don’t belong in these 'human’ bodies, every one of us is implanted here from another galaxy, and this has been the case for a thousand years. No one knows what 'actual humans’ are like without us inhabiting them.”
  42. “Did you just create a portal in time and space to pull another version of yourself into this world so I have to deal with another annoying idiot?” “No but thanks for the idea.”
  43. “You’re bleeding?!” “Nah, I’m frolicing in a field of flowers - yes I’m bleeding!”
  44. “Let me get this straight. I tell you that I make a decent omelette and you somehow equate that to qualification for piloting a spaceship?”
  45. “It’s the weekend! Let’s hit the town! See a concert, redo our wardrobes, get high, start a crime ring, I don’t know.”
  46. “Keep running, you’ve only got 4HP!”
  47. “This is clearly your first time. Stop screaming already, you’ll wake the neighbors!”
  48. “Has anyone seen the outdoors?” “What the fuck is an outdoors?”
  49. “Why do I feel like this again, I thought we were done with this?”
  50. “Look, as much as I like to hang out with you, I’ve gotta go and save the earth. Toodles!”
  51. “Have you seen?… oh shit”
  52. “Two questions: one, how many matches do you have, and two, where do you keep your socks?”
  53. “Because fuck surveys, that’s why!”
  54. “Stop yelling out the window or the koalas will rip your face off!”
  55. “I guess when I heard 'Night of Debauchery’… I didn’t picture muffins on your pajamas.”
  56. “Honey, you can’t keep throwing people to the pit of pain and despair just because they don’t like choc mint ice cream.”
  57. “Oh, no honey, put that back…”
  58. “It’s going to be too late, you know. It’s always too late.”
  59. “Hey, so, uh… I’m in trouble…” “What did you do this time?” “I got stranded in Wales….. again…”
  60. “OK, but… how do we get the dog out of a hole in space in time exactly?”
  61. “Aren’t people supposed to grow instead of shrink ?”
  62. “Wait. You’re aroused?” “Why would that surprise you?” “It does on account of you being covered in blood. Wipe that smile off your face. You look like a cat in heat.”
  63. "I pay your taxes”
  64. “No, ____. We did not raise our hamster like this.”
  65. “You can’t run from your own shadow(s), what makes you think you can run from theirs?”
  66. “You adopted… a dog?” “Mate, that’s not a dog.”
  67. “And at this moment, he decided to punch himself in the face.” “Narrator, listen, I know you’ve been with me my whole life, but you’re a huge jerk.”
  68. “Why didn’t you tell me it was a portal BEFORE we ended up here?”
  69. “Is that…the Mona Lisa.” “…Yes…” “What did I say to you about stealing priceless artifacts!?” “…That I had to take you with me next time.” “Exactly!”
  70. “Yes, I agree, magic is pretty cool. But did you really have to use it for THIS?”
  71. “Despite the fact that was epic, you’re still suspended”
  72. “Chill, dad it’s not what you think it is!” “Well it looks like you’re making out with the demon your grandma banished to cellar…WHY IS HE IN YOUR ROOM?”
  73. “If you truly love me you’ll let me-OH FUCKING HELL DID YOU JUST STAB ME!?”
  74. “Spoon”
  75. “What began as a conflict over the transfer of consciousness from flesh to machines escalated into a war which has decimated a Million worlds.The ___ and the ___ have all but exhausted the the resources of a galaxy in their struggle for domination. Both sides, now crippled beyond repair, the remnants of their armies continue to battle on ravaged planets, their hatred fueled by over four thousand years of total war. This is a fight to the death. For each side, the only acceptable outcome is…“
  76. ”… I’m going back to bed. You brought it here, you can deal with the mammoth yourself.“
  77. "Is the food supposed to be moving?”
  78. “You mean to tell me that in the two minutes I was gone,  you bombed a minor country,  got married to a stripper,  and assassinated a world leader?!”
  79. “Is that a unicorn???? EATING MY BEEF JERKY?!”
  80. “Do I get to dream about you again tonight?”
  81. “Well now I have to change clothes AGAIN!”
  82. “All of this was because of a… OF A PLUSHIE?!” “Well…Yeah?” “Great, how are we going to get out of jail now?!”
  83. “So…you gonna tell me why my brother is upside down and why you’re wearing my purple thong?”
  84. “Did you really have to burn down another Cracker Barrel?”
  85. “Sir, that’s impossible, you can’t do that.” “IS THAT A FUCKING CHALLENGE?!?!”
  86. “We need to invade Portugal.” “…Sure, why not?”
  87. “Did you divide by zero?! YOU’RE GOING TO KILL US ALL”
  88. “Stand down, Milady, this is a matter between gentlemen with mustaches.”
  89. “Next time you get arrested I am NOT paying your bail” “That’s a lie and you know it.” “….”
  90. “I thought you were dead.” “So did I”
  91. “John dont flush the dog down the toilet”
  92. “What did I say again about resurrecting dictators??”
  93. “Cucumbers are NOT pets… what do you mean, you ate him??”
  94. “Are you and God seriously fighting right now? And what happened to Satan?”
  95. “Are ferrets supposed to be blue??”
  96. “I’m the protagonist? Well I guess that explains why I look like about a thousand other people.”
  97. “Why do I do this to myself?”
  98. “Stop eating your tortilla chips with ketchup. It’s unattractive.”
  99. “How do you eat an entire cheese wheel in one sitting?”
  100. “Why are God and Satan moving in with us?”

Let’s make one more ‘100 Dialogue Prompts’ list together. Leave a comment with your prompt below. Don’t forget the double quotes “”. And as always, only one prompt per amigo! Also, here is your random Dutch word of the day: pindakaas

the best parts of the raven boys (featuring me crying)

- adam and ronan literally dragging each other on moving dollys behind the bmw like what nerds

- “if it had a social security number, ronan had fought with it”

- noah told them like 400 times that he was dead why was this news

- ronan being so extra about picking fights with declan. school? sure. monmouth? hell yea. nino’s parking lot? let’s fuckin go!!!

- the first thing blue ever sees ronan do is run into the light hanging above the booth at nino’s #clumsygay™

- ronan’s number on the nino’s bathroom stall door (honestly what the fuck)

- president cell phone

- gansey describing his friends as “the sulky one” and “the smudgy one”

- take a shot every time blue or adam call gansey condescending 

Keep reading

✰ * º ❛ even more popular text posts ask meme. ❜

‘  my kink is getting some fuckin sleep.  ’
‘  omg here goes your lil crybaby ass.  ’
‘  the beatles wouldn’t even fucking exist if big time rush hadn’t paved the path for them so shut the fuck up.  ’
‘  don’t start buddy. don’t you dare.  ’
‘  gay rights? true, as a gay, i am always right.  ’
‘  not to vent, but: fuck.  ’
‘  the worst pain is to make small talk with someone you once told everything to.  ’
‘  i think i accidentally break my own heart a lot.  ’
‘  sometimes ‘brb’ stands for ‘be ready bitch’ so you have to be careful.  ’
‘  i want to kiss you in a way that makes you not want to kiss anyone else ever again.  ’
‘  shout out to the people who are still friends with me even though i’m a fucking idiot.  ’
‘  it’s safe to assume that at any given moment i want to go back to bed.  ’
‘  i’m a big fan of anything that will help me chill the fuck out.  ’
‘  i don’t go through people’s pictures on their phone cause i wasn’t raised in the jungle.  ’
‘  i think we, as a people, just need to have a glass of water.  ’
‘  i don’t have enough black clothes.  ’
‘  sweetie, i could sleep for ten years and i’d still be tired.  ’
‘  i would sleep so much better with your arms wrapped around me.  ’
‘  me??? tired??? sleepy??? yes, constantly.  ’
‘  i’m pb&j – petty, bitter, and jealous.  ’
‘  the fact that sloths aren’t extinct somehow proves that if you go at your own pace and mind your own fucking business you too can succeed.  ’
‘  i wish i could be the person i want to be, but i’m too tired.  ’
‘  i always look sleep deprived. is that hot?  ’
‘  just because there’s always room for improvement doesn’t mean you’ll never be good enough.  ’
‘  my heart is a soft and sensitive mess.  ’
‘  all i want is a big garden and no responsibilities.  ’
‘  honestly someone not liking beyonce is a deal breaker and not for any political reasons, but just like you’re probably, definitely really boring.  ’
‘  hey guys, i’m a huge fan of genuine love and affection.  ’
‘  now i’m falling asleep and she’s calling a crab and he’s having a smoke and she’s kissing the crab.  ’
‘  i’ve been ever since i heard ‘lonely’ by akon at 9 years-old.  ’
‘  my new years resolution is to stop.  ’
‘  i’m irritated cause i’m not lovable in a romantic soulmate way.  ’
‘  i hate knowing that people that ruined parts of me still live and function like nothing ever happened.  ’
‘  i know i’m cute, but you can remind me.  ’
‘  hey, just wondering, but are you fucking kidding me????  ’
‘  i can’t wait to be in love with someone who is also deepfuck in love with me and we love each other forever n’ ever.  ’
‘  me? clingy? yes. please don’t leave me.  ’
‘  girlfriend application compatibility question: do you keep your depression pile on the bed or on the floor?  ’
‘  anything heart shaped is automatically 200% better. this is a fact.  ’
‘  today’s agenda: screaming into the abyss.  ’
‘  going from ‘today is a good day’ to ‘i hate my life’ takes me approximately 2.6 seconds.  ’
‘  everyone needs to wash their face and go to bed.  ’
‘  i’m worth so much more than the ways i’ve been treated.  ’
‘  hey, can i claim you guys as dependents on my taxes?  ’
‘  i really just ignore phone calls. like leave a message. i don’t check those either but like  ’
‘  i honestly just want to pack my bags and go travel the world and see and explore everything possible.  ’
‘  remember being little and thinking dandelions were fun or a pretty color or something and every adult in an 80 mile radius wouldn’t let you say that without screaming IT’S A WEED.  ’
‘  why did we just accept catdog?  ’
‘  my ‘stay in bed all day’ game’s too strong.  ’
‘  you deserve to be loved without having to hide the parts of yourself that you think are unlovable.  ’
‘  i always forget that i literally don’t owe anyone anything!  ’
‘  i wonder what it feels like to know what the fuck is going on.  ’
‘  honestly… us girls? us women? we always out here, knowin.  ’
‘  would an alien think i’m pretty?  ’
‘  i love boys, but only as a concept.  ’
‘  why do parents get mad when you sleep in all day? like i’m staying out of trouble and i’m not spending your money like what’s the issue here????  ’
‘  i identify as an inconvenience to the world.  ’
‘  i seriously regret telling anyone, anything, ever lmao  ’
‘  dating me is like dating a five year-old. i need all of your attention and i’m cranky if i haven’t had a nap.  ’
‘  i’m literally tired of myself.  ’
‘  don’t introduce me to ur parents unless you plan on marrying me because they’re going to love me and ask about me for the rest of your life lol  ’
‘  what the hell is a straight person? only straight thing i know about is the edge of my beloved sword.  ’
‘  i highly recommend never having feelings.  ’
‘  self care is going into a cornfield at night to get abducted by aliens.  ’
‘  staying up late with another human is such a weird thing like you get this special bond and a what-is-this feeling  ’
‘  do u ever feel like ur not even friends with ur friends?  ’
‘  um no offense but whom’st’ve going to loveth me?  ’
‘  date a girl who fucks everything up.  ’
‘  not all who mcfreakin wander are mcfreakin lost.  ’
‘  i may legally be an adult but don’t be fooled. i have no idea what i’m doing.  ’
‘  a fun and interesting fact about me is that i’m a fucking idiot.  ’
‘  you can start again anytime!  ’
‘  all you can do is learn your lesson. there’s no point in wishing you had did differently. the past is the past.  ’
‘  i can’t believe an angel like me has to suffer so much.  ’
‘  you’re all so obsessed with love and being loved. what about just going to sleep?  ’
‘  i’m smart, but i do dumb shit anyway.  ’
‘  tbh i never deal with my emotions. i just let them ravage my body and then go to bed and then i wake up and do it all over again.  ’
‘  first of all: i don’t know shit, so jot that down.  ’
‘  i’ll just ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯ my way through life.  ’
‘  i’m tired of things costing money.  ’
‘  don’t you hate it when you’re dead inside and run out of apps to refresh?  ’
‘  who cares? do better, move on.  ’
‘  i don’t need a significant other. just a significant income.  ’
‘  appreciation for everyone who’s ever talked to me bc i’m annoying and dumb.  ’
‘  thnks fr th mntl llnss.  ’
‘  what  hasn’t killed me has just made me overly sensitive and defensive.  ’
‘  i don’t know shit ya’ll!!!!! i’m just out here.  ’
‘  binge-watching is great until you run out of the show and have to start watching it weekly like some sort of medieval peasant.  ’
‘  i’m in the wrong realm and i think everyone can tell.  ’
‘  this might come as a shock but I’m Not Feelin too good my dudes.  ’
‘  i’m alive, but only ironically.  ’
‘  there she goes again being over dramatic and by she, i mean me.  ’
‘  do you ever feel like have tried Too Hard to a friend and now you have become That Obnoxious Weirdo?  ’
‘  lgbt: lasagna! garfield’s beloved treat.  ’
‘  my favorite phrase in the english language is ‘i shit you not.’  ’
‘  i’m a real boring bitch! a snoozer!  ’
‘  i honestly look so good lounging in an oversized t-shirt and no pants. when will someone experience the blessing of domestic living w/ me?  ’
‘  you don’t understand how hard it is to take a selfie when you’re ugly.  ’
‘  you son of a mumford!  ’
‘  hi, i’m here to ruin everything.  ’
‘  you can tell a lot about a person by looking at their hands. for example, if it’s a skeleton hand then they’re dead.  ’
‘  the year is 2020 and i am found guilty of treason against the united states for vague blogging that i hate someone and donald trump thought it was about him.  ’
‘  everybody calm down, we’re going to be fine! :))) we’ve weathered worse than this! :) :) :) :) really all this panic just seems like a huge overreaction imho   ’
‘  no beta readers. we publish our crap writing like men.  ’
‘  i need $$$$$ not feelings.  ’
‘  ‘idk imma see’ = i ain’t coming, never was coming, never considered it, never gave it a single thought, only remembered cause you asked again.  ’
‘  oops, i don’t care lol  ’
‘  why girls always crop the halo out of their selfies? stop being so modest. we know the truth.  ’
‘  maurice, you’re not gonna fucking believe this,  ’
‘  i always get told i look like a bitch bc i’m always glaring while i walk, but i’m not glaring, i’m squinting. i have sensitive eyes. they’re watering.  ’
‘  concept: it’s 3 am. candle lit room. a record is spinning. you’re kissing me. we have no worries in the world. we’re warm and content.  ’
‘  i need to go into the forest and scream for an hour and a half.  ’
‘  pls kill all men who yell at girls from cars.  ’
‘  life really isn’t what i expected it to be. less quicksand. almost no quicksand to be honest. lots of metaphorical quicksand tho.  ’
‘  i have a question for u: like are u done… like is it over?  ’
‘  we all have that one person who ruins your day by being alive.  ’
‘  we all have that one person who ruins your day by being alive. for me, it’s myself.  ’
‘  whenever i see police i always try not to act suspicious and fail internally even though i never did anything wrong.  ’
‘  new years resolution: less bitter, more glitter.  ’

10 Tips for Writing (Good) Smut

so. let’s do this.

About a year ago, I had to read a book for my school’s summer reading assignment called How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas Foster. It’s not a bad book, pretty decent actually, but there was this one chapter about sex scenes in literature. And one of the first sentences was along the lines of “writing sex is boring.”

and I did a double-take. Bc in my experience, that is absolutely not the case, and if you do find yourself bored while writing smut, then you’re not doing it right. See, Thomas’s main argument was that there’s only so many ways you can write sex scenes, because there’s only so many sex acts you can choose from. (My boy Thomas is clearly a vanilla dude, but let’s not hold that against him.) 

But one of the most important things to keep in mind while writing smut is that it’s not necessarily just about the act itself. So while Thomas is right that there are limits as to how many ways ppl can have sex, he failed to realize that writing sex is about a LOT more than that. And I’m gonna prove it to you.

Keep reading

Boku no Hero Academia Fiction Recommendation Master Post

I have decided my new favorite anime and its fandom deserves some appreciation. Every work I recommend are - in my personal opinion - beautiful and I want everyone to read them. If you see your work up here that’s cause I loved it to the moon and back! I welcome suggestions too!  

♥ - ultimate fav

★ - they do the do

(★) - implied sexual activities

ロ - unfinished

■ - finished

✿ - multi chapters


TodoDeku (Todoroki x Midoriya)

Sumary:  Midoriya Izuku has never been asked out, confessed to, or flirted with, except as a joke.

Summary:  [02:13 AM] todoroki: Are you awake?

Summary:  U.A.’s Heroics Division’s Class A was graduating. Moving on. Never coming back. And Izuku is going to be left behind, solidly trapped in a prison of his own making. There might be a few things that could make it more bearable, though.

Summary:  Todoroki is bad at presents, and worse at confessions.

Summary:  I wrote some silly fluff for Izuku’s birthday. Happy bday, little hero egg!

Summary: Todoroki felt his own breath drop in temperature as the nerves settled in, steam rising with each steady exhale. He continued to stare, as if expecting the same to happen to Midoriya when he caught a whiff of cool mint as the boy spoke, face inches from his. In which Midoriya has a better grasp on the changes happening in Todoroki than Todoroki himself.

Summary: There was no magical moment that played a part in Midoriya’s realization that he liked Todoroki. The thin red string that greeted him every time he looked down at his hand was an obvious factor, yes, but it wasn’t love at first sight either. It sorta just… happened over time.

Summary:  In which Todoroki Shouto is trying to ask Midoriya out and the whole class is in on it.

Summary: The law is clear: whoever correctly answers three riddles will marry the prince, while all who fail are to be executed. The people live in fear as more challengers try and fail, and the throne grows bloodier with every passing year. But a young prince, nameless and in exile from his home, believes there may be more to this brutal challenge than meets the eye. Of course, there’s only one way to find out: ring the gong, and take the trial.

Summary:  It’s been judged safe to send the students of UA home to their families for the first three weeks of summer, much to the relief of everyone whose name isn’t Todoroki Shouto. Luckily, Midoriya has a solution for him, and Midoriya Inko has a lot of love to give.

Note: Part 6 of Send Endeavor to the Shadow Realm series. First part: Spring Cleaning

Summary: Izuku has never been one to curse but the only way to describe himself as his mother hugs him goodbye that morning, is royally fucked.He’s really, truly glad no one in their class has a mind-reading quirk because from the minute his feet touched warm sand, his mind has been screaming in tune to the same famous classical overtures Tenya listens to when they study together. Occasionally, the music pauses just long enough for his brain to point out observations about Shouto that make Izuku want to stick his head under the waves and just breathe in.

Summary:  Note to self: don’t accidentally fall in love with a prince who’s in an arranged marriage keeping your kingdoms from declaring war against each other. Especially when you’re spying on him as his manservant.

Note: Part 1 of the kings & queens of promise series.

Summary: It starts —like all ideas that inevitably lead to one’s downfall do— with something akin to this: Midoriya Izuku. Midoriya Izuku and a five-story house by the beach, completely devoid of any entry-fee –save for the one where Todoroki has to pretend to be Deku’s boyfriend. All-in-all though, not an awful price to pay for the vacation of their dreams, right? Right?

Summary:  It’s Wednesday morning when Izuku’s mother texts him to remind him about his cousin’s wedding coming up the following weekend, and it’s Wednesday evening, when Izuku’s back in his room after classes and has time to call her, that she tells him she can’t go to the wedding with him.

Summary: Todoroki and Midoriya are pro heroes. They’re also dating.These two aspects clash when they’re outed to the entire world as Japan’s first officially gay heroes.

Summary: In his third year at UA, Todoroki Shouto works in a burger place, catches on fire and falls in love. Only two of those things are on purpose. Or…Todoroki Shouto’s exciting adventures in customer service.

Note: First part of the extra-salty/twitter-verse series! The next TodoDeku part of the series: get in loser, we’re going heroing

Summary:  Shouto Todoroki is a cold Pro Hero who never uses his fire side. He refuses to be like his father, Endeavor, but every day it seems like he’s becoming more like him. Shouto meets up with Izuku Midoriya, a quirkless Pro Hero counselor and discovers that his power is his own. Also… he might be falling in love with his counselor. // AU where Deku never received One for All and became a quirk counselor instead!

Summary: Shouto has his first sleepover.

Summary:  In the wake of All Might’s death, Izuku grieves. (Post-Graduation/Future Fic)

Summary: It was a mistake, Shouto thinks, to fall in love with a hero. (Or the one where Todoroki is a Quirkless school nurse and Hero Deku’s longsuffering boyfriend.)

Note: Part 1 of the demolition lovers series.



KiriBaku (Kirishima x Bakugou) 

Summary: … It wasn’t that he was annoyed. Okay, maybe he was a little annoyed, but that was just the lack of sleep talking. Because a certain explosive punk thought it was a good idea to test the flammability of his sheets at 2 in the morning. Every single morning. (In which Bakugou’s quirk wakes Kirishima up, and Kirishima gets way too invested in his bro’s well-being.)

Summary:  The summer training camp of Bakugou’s second year at UA descends upon him with all the untamed fury of- well, himself, honestly.

Summary: "Hey! Wake up you piece of shit! Are you alive?!“ The man winces and scrunches his face in pain but Bakugou continued to hold him in place. Good, he’s alive- Piercing red eyes flutter open and gaze lazily straight at Bakugou’s face and Bakugou feels his heart skip a beat. Oh, Fuck- AKA merman! Kirishima au

Summary: Bakugou sleeping in the common areas like it’s no big deal seems to give everyone else permission to be just as bizarre, and little by little Kirishima starts learning things about his classmates he never knew.  

Summary:  Bakugou Katsuki and Kirishima Eijirou are paired together for a winter survival assignment! It’s inevitable that the two clash, but neither of them could have predicted an accident at the height of their tension. Trapped in the wilderness at the mercy of the environment, how will the two cope with finding help and mending what was broken?

Summary:  Before going into battle, it’s only proper to make an offering to the god of war. But Kirishima’s run out of things to give. AKA God of War! Bakugou au

Summary: “You’re a popsicle biter, you fucking animal,” Bakugou says. “You’re not?” Kirishima says around a mouthful of ice cream. “No,” Bakugou says. “I prefer my teeth unfrozen, thanks.” He wraps his mouth around the popsicle and Kirishima realizes his mistake very, very quickly.

Summary:  Kirishima has always made things easy for Bakugou. But that doesn’t mean that Bakugou’s gotten any better at these things, even after all of these years.

Summary: Bakugou works at a convenience store, flirts like a loser, blows up nineteen aprons, gets a hashtag trending for all the wrong reasons and maybe manages to make a friend. Or…being Bakugou Katsuki is suffering.

Note: Part two of the extra-salty/twitter-verse series

Summary: With phone, money, and keys in his pocket, Kirishima wandered around the city for an age. With his legs on auto-pilot his mind wandered too. To the new movie that peppered the streets in posters and trailers, a new move he wanted to practise for another basketball play, wondering about how the current arcs for his favourite manga would turn out in the next issue of Jump. And, of course, he thought about how many of those things he could see and do with Bakugou.

Summary: Once upon a time a lonely beast lived in a manor deep in the forest. He dreamed of the day his true love appeared to break his curse… When a beauty finally appears in his life, it is not quite as he imagined. For who could have thought a beauty would be more of a beast. Or the beauty and the beast AU nobody asked for but here it is.

Kat’s Fic Recs: Sterek (under 10k)

*Yes, yes the first three are over 10k but they’re worth it!

For @prettyinsoulpunk, hope this makes your week better! 💖💖💖

On The Bus by bibliosexxual (13,299)

“Yeah,” Erica says with exaggerated slowness, “I did like Kira, and now I like Boyd. I’m bi.”

“Bi?”

“Bisexual?” Erica prompts. “As in, not gay or straight?”

Stiles is pretty sure his entire mind explodes. “You can like guys and girls? That’s a thing?”

Erica looks at him like, What planet are you from? “Uh, yeah. As long as they’re hot, I don’t care what gender they are.” She pokes him in the side, and he jumps. He’s always been ticklish, and unfortunately Erica knows it. “What about you? You ever like guys, Stilinski?”

*
In which Stiles and Derek ride the bus to school together, and there are bisexual awakenings.

You’ll Grow Into Your Skin by crossroadswrite (11,847)

“So funny story,” Stiles winces, “Remember when I joked you couldn’t get me pregnant?”

Derek nods his head. He remembers pretty much everything from that day.

“Right,” Stiles bobs his head, stops himself and does a little ta-da gesture towards Jacy, “Surprise?”

This is honestly so so cute and heartwarming. I don’t read much mpreg but this was so good and I recommend it 100%.

Word By Word by Cobrilee (11,843)

The first time Derek sees the words, he’s had a really shitty day. Laura was on his case again, all in the name of sisterly love, of course, and Cora was wielding her usual acerbic wit like a rapier. He’d gotten to the scene of a shooting too late and the victim had died before Derek could call for an ambulance. His Camaro had gotten a flat and while he was attempting to change the tire on the side of the road, someone drove by and sent a wave of muddy water arcing, drenching him, and he was cold, muddy, and miserable.

Then, as he was sliding into the front seat after toweling off as best as he could, he felt something prickling on his arm and glanced down. Shaky, thin lines began appearing, little by little, and he could do no more than stare as the infamous phrase formed on his arm.

Are you 18?

‘Til It Hurts or Bleeds or Fades by WeAreTheCyclones (10,731)

“For the peace and happiness of our friends, and that of Beacon Hills at large, can you please give us a warning if you two are ever headed for a nuclear fallout?”

Stiles scoffs. “What are you talking about?”

“The tension between you two rises with each passing year. For awhile there, it seemed to be turning into the sexy kind, but now it feels more like the murder kind.”

No Day But Today by fauvistfly (9,527)

“If you don’t change it successfully, you’ll be doomed to repeat it,” Deaton says, his face impassive despite the seriousness of his words.

“Repeat the day?” Stiles parrots, trying to wrap his head around what they’re attempting to do, the ridiculousness of his life and how it now involves time travel.

in which things in Beacon Hills are so bad that Deaton sends Stiles back in time to stop Kate from manipulating Derek and causing the death of the Hale family. The catch: Stiles only has 24 hours to change the course of the future, or he’ll be stuck repeating that same day until he gets it right. What will be enough to keep Derek away from Kate?

Where Others Fade Away by pr1nc3ssp34ch (9,054)

When the name Grzegorz tattoos itself across Derek’s wrist in neat, thin strokes, his mother pats him on the head in sympathy and Laura laughs so hard she has to go to her room, the sound echoing down the hall as she goes. When it stays there for six years and no such Grzegorz appears, Derek seriously considers moving to Poland.

Meanwhile, on Stiles’ eighteenth birthday when Derek crawls onto his skin, untidy and volatile, Lydia shrieks in sudden realization, and Jackson looks so entirely offended that even Danny can’t kiss him back to normal.

just the touch of a hand by scepticallyopenminded (8,591)

Things – as things often do in Stiles’ life – get a little crazy (a lot crazy) when, a couple of weeks before his seventeenth birthday, he wakes up to – not a wolf, but an amount of naked flesh, cuddled up to him where Dude fell asleep the night before. Stiles screams, a bit, flopping around and falling out of his bed, getting to his knees to see a naked – Derek Hale, sitting up on his bed, eyes wide. He seems to realize something a second later, because he glances down at himself and squeaks, pulling sheets up around him just as Stiles’ dad opens the door.

36 Questions by Leslie_Knope (8,071)

“So I’m doing my senior psych thesis on friendships,” Erica says, not-so-accidentally elbowing Derek in the ribs as she turns to face Stiles. “How they develop, how intimacy is fostered, stuff like that.”

“That’s cool,” Stiles says agreeably. “What’s our part?”

“Well, I can’t really tell you the point because that would influence the results. But it’s a set of 36 questions that you have to ask each other.”

“Just the two of us?” Derek chimes in, finally, and Stiles sighs.

“Okay, dude,” he says, making a face, “could you try not to look quite so offended? Like, my ego’s pretty strong, but come on, man.”

Of Glasses And Lacrosse Sticks by charlesdk (6,810)

“Okay, how 'bout this? One date, just one date, and if you still don’t believe I’m genuinely interested in you, then I’ll leave you alone for good. How does that sound?”

Derek hesitated for another moment, before he sighed and said, “Fine. One date.”

It’s Always Been You by charlesdk (6,085)

Stiles’ love life was practically non-existing, always had been. He was always terrible at picking up clues when people hit on him (it had happened, Erica had been witness to it and had been the one to let him know it was happening in the first place) because he never expected anyone to do so.

He wasn’t the most desirable guy around, he knew that. He was loud, extremely nerdy, never knew when to stop talking, not exactly much of a looker if you asked him, the list was endless.

Point was, he never did know when someone was flirting with him. Which was probably how he ended up in the fight that would change his life for the better.

One Year Down by haleofStilesheart (5,854)

Derek had never celebrated an anniversary before. At least, not an anniversary for a romantic relationship. But now that’s he’s been dating Stiles for a year, that’s about to change.

It’s Too Early For This by thepsychicclam (4,966)

Derek loves his job at the coffee shop, especially because Stiles comes in for coffee before early Saturday morning lacrosse practices. The problem is that Derek is too shy to do anything about his crush, and the situation is not helped by the rivalry between the basketball and lacrosse teams.

I Didn’t Know That I Was Starving (til I tasted you) by LadySlytherin (4,481)

Derek - who lives in New York with his older sister, Laura - is back in Beacon Hills, visiting his parents and younger sister for Christmas, when everything changes. Cora invites friends over while their parents are visiting other family, Derek drinks something he didn’t know he shouldn’t have, and things get a little out of control.

Misunderstandings abound, secrets are spilled, and in the end all it takes to find happiness is being brave enough to reach out with both hands and never let go.

Hello My Old Heart by eversall (3,944)

It begins like this – Stiles is hopelessly lost in the Beacon Hills Library, which has definitely undergone renovations in the last two years, and he’s wandering around trying his best to look like a helpless puppy or something and sure enough, a librarian in a navy blue cashmere sweater and thick-rimmed black glasses shows up, and that librarian happens to be Derek Hale.
Stiles’ heart skips a beat and he suddenly feels like he’s drowning in something unfamiliar, an ache beginning to build in his chest.
.
The pack drifts back together, and Derek in sweaters kind of breaks Stiles a little. In a good way.

A Treatise On The Importance Of Not Ignoring Your Date by LadySlytherin (3,490)

A tumblr-post-based fic, wherein Stiles and Derek have a meet-cute at a baseball game. Involves a kiss-cam, Stiles’ date being an ass, and a hot stranger.

Basically, Peter doesn’t survive the fire so Laura and Derek never go back to Beacon Hills, Scott’s never bitten, Stiles doesn’t know about the supernatural, and he goes to NY for college. Go, Mets!

Thank God Your Heart Is Too Close by hoars (3,469)

There’s a boy, (“Fuck you, dude. I’m seventeen. Not fifteen.” Stiles laughs in his memory) waiting for him back home.

Soulmates tbh by bleep0bleep (1,423)

“It’s been five months,” Derek says darkly. “Why am I still getting these proposals? You know these are probably all fake marks.”

Five months since the paparazzi had snapped that photo of him with the overzealous fan tugging at his shirt, five months since millions of people on the Internet realized that the birthmark revealed was in fact, the mark, five months Derek was inundated by claims from people who desperately wanted him to believe that they were his soul-mate.

All Yours (Connor Murphy X Reader)

WC: 2116

Warnings: Gets pretty steamy (I’ll seperate it in case y'all are uncomfortable with it), sad Connor, language, fluff

Summary: Connor has a (bad) habit of sneaking into his girlfriend’s bedroom when he’s feeling down. Y/N doesn’t mind at all.

A/N: This is a combination of two requests. One from an anon who wanted Connor sneaking into the reader’s room when he’s feeling upset, and eventually breaking down, and one from @lildipstick who wanted fluff or smut with Connor Murphy. Hope you guys enjoy!

I scrolled mindlessly through tumblr, the bright screen and The Book of Mormon cast recording the only things keeping me from falling asleep. I looked at the time on my laptop screen and exhaled when I read it. 12:30 AM.

I suddenly heard a noise that sounded slightly sinister and I pressed pause on the music, taking my headphones out. I said there in the semi dark, my laptop screen illuminating my face.

My window suddenly opened and I jumped, letting out a curse. “Connor Murphy, you bastard. Give me some warning next time.” I said, as Connor’s lanky frame clambered into my bedroom.

“I don’t know exactly when I’m going to need a break from my family, so I can’t give you warning when it happens.” Connor said smugly, shutting my window behind him.

“Whatever you nerd. You interrupted my nightly Book of Mormon session, so I hope you feel bad.” I retorted as Connor sat down on my bed, glancing at my laptop screen.

“You and your goddamn Broadway shows.” Connor mused, laying down on my bed. “Excuse you, Broadway is wonderful. It’s not gay if you listen to it, Connor. Jared likes it.” I said and Connor snorted, sitting up.

“Jared is gay.” Connor retorted and I felt my cheeks go red. “Bad example, but you get my point. Correlation, not causation.” I said, hoping I didn’t sound like too much of an idiot.

“I didn’t think it was possible for someone to get so worked up about musical theatre.” Connor said, his dark hair half up in a bun. I snorted and Connor looked at me strangely.

“If you think that’s me getting worked up about theatre, you should see me when someone tries to convince me that all musicals are pretty much the same. That’s getting worked up about theatre.” I said, huffing slightly. Connor just chuckled, reaching across and tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed. Your face kinda screws up, and it’s adorable.” Connor said casually, and my cheeks went an even brighter red.

“We’ve been dating for 3 months and you still blush when I compliment you.” Connor said, moving my laptop out of the way and pulling me close to him. “I’m not used to people saying nice things about me.” I muttered and Connor let out a sigh.

“Neither am I, Y/N. I guess we’ll have to be each other’s firsts.” Connor said and my eyes widened, suddenly aware of how this might look to my parents. Connor chuckled at my expression, kissing my cheek gently.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Y/N, but if you want to.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows. I scoffed and shoved his side playfully, burying my burning face in the crook of his neck.

I inhaled his scent and noticed that there was a smell missing. A smell that usually coated him. “You haven’t been smoking.” I said, but my tone made it sound more like a question. Connor nodded, and I looked up at him.

“I stopped smoking when we started dating. Weed used to be my therapy, sure, but I’ve got a new form of therapy right here. That’s why I always come here when I need a break from everything that’s going on. Nothing helps me get my mind off things better than you.” Connor said, playing with my hair as he spoke.


KINDA SMUTTY PART KIDS

I pressed feather light kisses up Connor’s neck, knowing exactly the spot to put a little more pressure. Connor took in a deep breath and shuddered slightly, and I could feel his heartbeat speed up.

“Y/N.” He breathed out shakily, and I looked up at him with mock innocence in my eyes. “Yes?” I said innocently, although the smirk on my face betrayed any innocence in my voice.

“God, you don’t know what you do to me.” Connor growled, his voice low and husky. “So then why don’t you let me know.” I replied, capturing Connor’s lips in a heated kiss. I slipped one arm around his waist, and tangled my other hand through his hair.

Connor eagerly kissed back, and I leaned forward, pushing him down onto his back. “Y/N.” Connor said, panting slightly as he slipped his hands under my shirt, his slightly calloused fingers running over my skin.

He quickly slipped my shirt off, and his hands moved further up my chest. My breathing quickly became laboured, and I could tell Connor noticed. He simply smirked, and I retracted my hand from his hair and moved it to the front of his jeans, noticing his expression change to a look of shock and bliss. 

“Shit.” Connor muttered, disposing of his shirt as my hands were… preoccupied. “You sure… you wanna do this?” Connor breathed out, his eyes half closed.

“Does this answer your question?” I said, undoing the zipper on his jeans and tugging them down, the bulge in his underwear significantly more noticeable now. Connor’s response was a low moan, and I smirked to myself, in awe of the effect I had on him. “I’m all yours, baby.”

KINDA SMUTTY PART OVER


Connor and I laid on my bed together, the both of us sweaty yet immensely satisfied. “Holy shit.” Connor muttered, nuzzling his head in the crook of my neck.

“I know.” I said, shivering as his breath tickled the sensitive skin on my neck. “I don’t not think this was how the night would go.” Connor said, snaking his arms around my waist.

“Neither did I, but I’m glad that’s how it ended up.” I said, glancing at the numbers on my alarm clock. 1:00 AM. “So.. what prompted tonight’s visit?” I asked after a stretch of silence. Connor took in a deep breath, and I immediately felt like I’d hit a nerve.

“It was mom and dad. They were… they’ve fought before, sure, but nothing on this level. They were screaming, and I’m fairly certain I heard something get thrown.” Connor said softly, and I let out a sad sigh.

“I… I can normally cope with it, because I always come to you, but for some reason, this is more than I reckon I can deal with.” He said, and I felt hot tears hit my skin. I turned around so I was facing Connor, his eyes red.

“Hey, hey, babe, I’m here.” I said, circling my arms around his waist and pulling him close to me. He started gently sniffling and I simply held him tighter, our bare chests pressed flush together.

“When it all feels like it’s too much. Like you can’t bear another day. You know exactly where to find me. Just sneak in through my bedroom window, and if I’m asleep you can just slip into my bed. I honestly won’t mind.” I said, rubbing Connor’s back soothingly, kissing his forehead.

Connor looked up at me with a look of astounding love and gratitude in his eyes. “I love you, Y/N.” Connor said, my breath hitching as he uttered those three words that neither of us had spoken to the other before. 

“And I love you. I love you so much, Connor. I don’t know what life would be like if I didn’t have you sneaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night.” I said, gently placing my lips on his.

This kiss was softer, gentler than the first kiss we shared this morning. This kiss conveyed love, and it left me feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush. My stomach was full of butterflies, and my skin heated up when Connor cupped the side of my face with his hand.

“How do you manage to still look so beautiful, even though you’re covered in sweat and have major sex hair?” Connor said and I blushed darkly, thanking the lord that it was pitch black.

“Maybe it’s because you can’t see me.” I said and Connor chuckled, tucking a strand of my majorly messy hair behind my ear. “That was funny, but it was also bullshit. I know that you look beautiful no matter if you’re wearing makeup or not, or if you’ve spent a whole heap of time working on your hair. It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing, although I will say that my favourite outfit is the one you’re wearing now.” Connor said and I punched his shoulder playfully.

“I could say the same thing for you, Murphy.” I said, smirking at him and scanning his body. “You know, you’re the first girl who’s actually seen me naked.” Connor said and I moved my mouth towards his ear.

“And let me tell you, it’s quite a sight.” I whispered, noticing how he shivered slightly at my words. “If you wanted round 2, you could’ve just asked.” Connor said cheekily, tracing his finger down my spine.

“Maybe later, big boy. Tomorrow is, after all, a school day.” I said and Connor pouted, sitting his hands on my waist. “We could just skip.” He suggested, and I frowned.

“I’d normally say yes, but I’ve got some exams tomorrow that I can’t afford to miss.” I replied, taking ahold of his free hand. “That sucks. Now that you mention it, it’s like 1:30. I should probably head back home so mom and dad don’t give me hell for running away or some shit like that.” Connor said, untangling himself from me and sitting up.

I immediately felt cold, and I shivered as a breeze passed through the room. “You can keep my hoodie. I know how much you love it.” Connor said, handing me the bundle of fabric. 

I held it close to my face and sniffed it, Connor’s scent filling my nose. “Thank you.” I whispered, slipping on the hoodie. “You’re welcome. I have, like, 5 more at home. I can spare one for you.” He said, pressing a kiss to my cheek as he pulled on his jeans.

“I love you Connor.” I said once he was dressed, the moonlight highlighting his sharp cheekbones. His usually cold face softened, allowing me access to a side of him very, very few have seen.

“I love you Y/N. I’ll see you at school, ok?” Connor said, and I nodded as he opened my bedroom window. “I’ll see you at school.” I replied, touching my fingers to my lips. They felt like Connor’s lips were still moulded with them, and I didn’t want the feeling to go away.

“I love you Y/N.” Connor whispered, blowing me a kiss before leaving my bedroom, shutting the window behind him. I laid down in my bed, Connor’s hoodie pulled tightly around me like a security blanket of some sorts.

I felt myself finally drifting off to sleep after the events of the past hour or so. “I love you.” I muttered once more before drifting off to sleep. Little did I know that Connor was muttering those same words as he walked home, that adorable, dorky smile resting on his face as he said them.


“Good morning Y/L/N.” Jared said, awkwardly pushing past people as he approached me. “Good morning Jared.” I chuckled, adjusting the straps of my backpack as I spoke.

“Hey, is that a new hoodie?” Jared asked, gesturing to Connor’s hoodie with his thumb. My cheeks flushed slightly and I nodded. “You could say that.” I responded, fiddling with the white strings of the jacket.

Jared’s brow furrowed, as he stared intently at the hoodie. Suddenly his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped so far it practically hit the floor. “That… that’s Connor Murphy’s, isn’t it?” Jared said, his eyes now trained on me.

I felt my blush darken as I nodded, and Jared smirked his trademark smirk. “So, you and Murphy, eh? I wouldn’t have imagined it, but now I can picture it.” He said, punching my shoulder lightly. “Whatever Jared.” I muttered, my cheeks ablaze as I opened my locker.

“Hey, it’s no big deal. I’m happy for the two of you, of course. I just, it’s unexpected, that’s all.” Jared said, and I looked at him quizzically. He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ve always thought of you as my little sister, Y/N, and I want to look out for you. I’ve heard horror stories about Connor and his… temper, so I just wanted you to be happy. And safe.” Jared said, concern clear in his eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Jared.” I said and Jared looked like a considerable weight had been taken off his shoulders. “I love Connor, and I am both safe and happy. In fact, I reckon I’ve never been happier.”

disappoint me daddy
  • dan and phil play dream daddy!! i messaged people abt this like a week and a half ago and immediately thought oh no what hell have i wished upon us but it is HERE
  • to be fair i am on my second watch so this isn’t. reacting
  • 0:47 and dan is already talking about barebacking i want to delete all of this

Keep reading

How Yosuke Hanamura broke my heart

It’s incomplete, but I had to get this out of my system:

How Yosuke Hanamura broke my heart

Persona 4 is a funny game. It is also a long game, and that allows the social simulation aspect of it to really work, allows you to feel at home with the characters, through charm and repetition - grumpy Dojima, overly energetic Chie, confused heart of gold Kanji. Through little bits of interaction, day by in-game day, you at some point start to realise that when this is over, you might actually miss them. All of them. 


And then there is Yosuke. 


You play Persona 4 as Souji, a quite detached guy moving in from the city, hand on his hip, jacket slung over his shoulder, and while you, the player, grow fond of the game’s characters, Souji always feels like he doesn’t quite belong. He is the leader, the one who pulls the strings, the one grown up far beyond their age, with the world’s weight on their shoulders. 


You juggle realtionships, help people out, they call you senpai, sensei - and then there is Yosuke. 


Yosuke, who somehow, magically, manages to transcent Persona 4’s charming but game-y relationship system and becomes something else. Yosuke, who calls you Partner, and rings you up at night asking about your dreams or which girl you like. Yosuke, who does and says so many silly things that you never quite know what to expect - Yosuke, who ultimately breaks the boundaries of Persona 4 and makes Souji/Yosuke the most unexpectedly real-feeling relationship within a video game that I’ve ever encountered. 


I don’t know what I thought when I first laid eyes on him, it’s likely that it was something along the lines of “Hey, this is quite cool-looking for an anime video game guy. Nice headphones.”


Then, in quick succession, things happened that made it clear that Yosuke was many things - heartbroken, repressed, funny, lazy, loyal, competitive, insecure, reckless - and that there was something building between him and Souji that seemed like a stunningly natural depiction of friendship. Somehow, this is rare - a video game showing two guys becoming friends, a process that just like falling in love requires making first moves, and opening up, and getting comfortable with each other. It seemed like Yosuke was the person in the cast that always wanted to know a little more, the one to push Souji a little bit, willing to ask stupid questions just to get a reaction, and unlike the other characters, he seemed to always act out of a desire to be level with Souji, to break through the calm, collected, leader-shell of his and address the human being inside. 


Now, that alone would be a remarkable thing for a video game to depict, and worthy of high praise. What complicates things is that Yosuke, no matter how much he might deny it, seems like the most obvious case of a closeted gay person the world has ever seen. 


When I started playing Persona 4, I had a pretty good idea of what I was getting myself into, through reading about it and actually having played a bit in the past. I also knew about the game’s realtionship system, and was aware, or thought I was, that you could only get romantically involved with girls. Thus, when the game started to tease the possibility of a gay option, I raised an eyebrow, then another one, and then I lost my marbles. 


When it started, the closeness between Souji and Yosuke had already been established, and since I’m a sucker for guys not actually hating each other, I started to favour Yosuke a little bit - choosing him to eat lunch with on the roof, studying together, spending afternoons at the Junes food court, talking in the soft glow of the sun on the Samegawa river bank. When Yosuke asked which girl I liked, I chose “neither”, cheekily, thinking I was playing the metagame, when the next midnight channel story twist came up, I bet each time that Yosuke would be the one to call Souji, outraged, worried, flustered, and each time when the phone rang and it was indeed him, I smiled to myself. But surely it was all in my head - I was starting to ship it, but it was just a fun little thing to do, to spare a thought here and there and layer it on top of these two characters whose interactions I enjoyed way more than expected. 


Then, these little moments started happening - the group sitting together at Junes’ and Yosuke remarking how good Partner is with his hands, a comment that might not even have stuck out so much if weren’t for the fact that immediately after saying it, Yosuke became a hot mess of backpedalling embarrassment. His insistence to know whether Souji had a crush on somebody, and who it was, despite the awkwardness. His remarks about inviting a third person to their activities, “or else people might think we’re gay.” And ultimately, the sheer time the game devoted to the Souji/Yosuke relationship - way more than any of the other characters got.


Persona 4’s social link system is fairly rigid. You choose to spend time with people, and if things go well, and even sometimes if they don’t, it raises your relationship level with said person, allowing you to climb the social link ranks, which has gameplay and combat benefits and also allows you, in some cases, to pursue a romance. What is remarkable about Yosuke is that the game spends a significant amount of time showing interactions between Yosuke and Souji outside of this system, building their relationship beyond the confines of you walking up to a person after school and answering “yes” to their proposal of hanging out. This not only serves to create a markedly more natural and complex relationship, it also sets Yosuke apart from the other characters - he is the one to choose to interact with Souji while the other characters can only wait to be chosen. 


And then Kanji entered the picture, Yosuke freaked out completely and I looked on, amazed at the fact that this game would dare to introduce a gay character, who, despite being closeted, met up with dates after school and whose dungeon was, of all things, a gay bathhouse, with sexual content that wasn’t even the slightest bit concealed. Of all the characters, Yosuke reacted most strongly to this, outright refusing to enter and making a big fuss about being afraid of Kanji taking advantage of him. 


It culminated in the camping trip - Kanji, Yosuke, Souji sharing a tent - a scenario that could have been used very easily for a gay romance movie of questionable quality, full of the usual tropes of late night talks, denial, confrontation and very real confusion on my part of where exactly this was going - the game laid on the armored gay homophobia on Yosuke so thick that it seemed almost impossible to read what was going on in any other way. Combined with the unusual qualities that had been established in the realtionship before Kanji joined the group, it started to feel like an entire plot was going on behind the scenes, inexplicit yet persistent and increasingly impossible to ignore. 


A few in-game days after that camping trip, Yosuke broke another boundary the game had set up to this point - he visited Souji’s home. More importantly, his room, a place that up until then you, the player, had always been alone in. The conversation that followed, in that intimate space, can’t adequately be described as subtext anymore, it’s text, and very gay text at that. I was streaming the game at the time, and I bet if that session’s video was still up, you’d hear my breath hitch when Yosuke, no homo Yosuke, asked about Souji’s porn stash and teasingly, suggestively stated he’d find it while Souji was out of the room. That was only the top of the iceberg, the whole scene and its context hit me like a 10 ton truck - could it be real? Was there really, explicitly something going on? The fact that I, after learning through research that there was no gay option, felt the need to double check after that scene, to make sure there wasn’t one, should speak volumes. 


That’s when I learned of the fact that Yosuke very likely was a gay option, that there were unused text and voice lines left over on the game’s disk that turned the inexplicit explicit, both in english and japanese, suggesting the developer changed their mind after the localization was done, i.e. very late in the game’s development. Only, they had ripped out very little, leaving in tons of sublte and not so subtle parts of the relationship, and that was when I realised that Persona 4, beyond being one of the best games I have ever played, would also have the potential to make me very sad, and very angry.


It wasn’t just that gay rights had been dear to my heart for as long as I could remember. It wasn’t just that the progression of Souji and Yosuke’s relationship eclipsed any other possible pairing in the lineup by miles in terms of complexity and depth and just feeling right. It was the loss of an incredible story being told, a story that would have been unique in the history of video games - the story of two fully realised, multi-faceted male characters that you, as a player, like, falling in love, and dealing with the fact that they both happen to be guys, with all the issues that might bring in a society where homophobia and hate are still so prevalent. 


While this has been done in movies to great success in recent times, mainstream video games haven’t dared to show male homosexual relationships in positive light and up front and center. Persona 4 does dare to spend significant time on very progressive subjects, including homosexuality and transgender issues, but it falters and pulls back just on the brink of being truly groundbreaking, which, to anybody playing the game with an open mind, can only scream injustice both in a worldly and in an in-game sense. 


The level 9 rank of Yosuke’s social link progression has the two of you standing on a hill overlooking the town of Inaba. Yosuke’d probably call it a village, and the two of you talk about coming to terms with your place in the world, literally and figuratively. It’s autumn, and the evening sun plays with the coloured leaves on the trees - it’s a beautiful spot, a wistful song is playing, and despite the Playstation 2’s aged graphics you can’t help but marvel a little. You’ve never been to this spot before, you think Yosuke probably brought you here, and you wonder if there are any other locations in the town you know so well by now that you haven’t seen.


“There is still nothing here,” Yosuke says, meaning Inaba, a place he resented for the longest time, “but I have family, and friends…and you.”


I sat in front of the TV for a long time, the soft piano notes of the song playing making me ache, and then I realised that while Yosuke Hanamura was denied the chance to become part of video games’ first positively framed gay male relationship, he had acomplished one thing:


Yosuke Hanamura broke my heart.

PUNK!STAN + NERD!BILL AU

i’m working on shit i swear, this is just for the wait. 

HERE WE GO

  • Stan, Richie, Mike, and Bev are the punks.
  • Eddie, Stan, and Ben are the “nerds”
  • Stan is very intimidating with his leather jacket and his boots, but he’s a fucking softie.
  • Bill knows this.
  • They got paired for an assignment in history freshman year. Stan was pissed he didn’t get Mike (because my son is a genius!) but when he saw how cute Bill was he dropped it.
  • Bill was expecting to do the whole thing himself, but Stan was very helpful and did his part.
  • Bill was lowkey embarrassed about his stutter because HE was used to it and so were his friends, but he was scared Stan was gonna make fun of him for it
  • He didn’t (much to Bill’s surprise)
  • Richie kept teasing Stan because of how much he talked about Bill.
  • But Stan could do the same thing with him and Eddie
  • Bev is a lesbian!
  • Mike has a little crush on Ben
  • After the project was over, Stan still sat next to Bill.
  • And talked to him
  • And hung out with him.
  • They’re like real friends
  • That occasionally flirt
  • and are constantly touching each other
  • but whatever, moving on
  • BECAUSE they hung out so much that meant that their crews hung out too
  • No one was complaining, everyone had a crush on everyone (except for Bev, of course. she was crushing on the head cheerleader)
  • This goes on until the summer before junior year (YOU ARE SIXTEEN GOING ON SEVENTEEN, BABY ITS TIME TO THINK -Bill, to which Stan replies: You’re a Fucking Dork, Denbrough)
  • They’re hanging out at the Denbrough household, watching a movie n stuff
  • There are no parents because they have jobs  (Not everyone can have a summer break, Billiam -Stan)
  • Now, contrary to popular belief, Bill kisses Stan first.
  • stan is shook
  • But we all know Derry is a piece of shit town, so as much as they want to be open about their relationship (as much as Stan wants to show Bill off) they can’t
  • Bill’s parents are convinced Stan replaced Eddie as Bill’s best friend
  • “What do they think we’re doing in your room all the time?”
  • “Studying.”
  • “Seriously?”
  • Makeout sessions start two (2) weeks after they first kiss
  • It’s intense
  • School starts back up again and they barely have any classes together (What the Fuck -Stan)
  • They see each other in between classes though
  • THEY MAKE EYE CONTACT AND STAN SMIRKS WHICH MAKES BILL BLUSH AND ITS THE CUTEST THING EVER, OK.
  • Bill starts getting antsy during class and even Eddie is like “Bro, chill tf out”
  • Bill doesn’t fucking know why until he sees Stan and immediately calms down
  • “I’m h-having Stan withdrawls???”
  • “That’s fucking adorable”
  • “Sh-Shut up, b-bird boy”
  • “Hush, Denbrough”
  • lots of hand holding
  • and kissing when no one is around
  • BILL SKIPPED CLASS JUST TO BE AROUND STAN AND MR. STANLEY LOST IT
  • “Bill, seriously. You don’t have to skip class, we could’ve just waited it’s fine.”
  • “N-No, it’s b-basically a free p-period anyways. I w-w-wanna be here”
  • Stan’s whipped™
  • Bev won’t let him live it down! Stan is whipped!
  • Mike doesn’t give a shit, he never has, really. As long as stan’s happy.
  • Richie’s a prick at first, but Stan really is his best friend and he knows he’s really in deep with Bill so he doesn’t say much.
  • BUT WHEN HE DOES.. BOY.
  • Ok but there was one day, Bill’s stutter was super bad for some reason. He thought it was getting better but that day was not good.
  • He doesn’t talk much that day and Stan gets really worried.
  • When Bill finally tells him what’s going on (in the middle of their makeout session because Stan won’t stop asking if he’s ok) Stan tells him that his stutter is adorable, and that he was sure it was just Bill’s nerves.
  • BILL GIVES HIM THE SOFTEST HEART EYES EVER before they start making out again.
  • But then they go and have lunch with everyone and Bill is stuttering so bad over his words. Stan is squeezing his hand underneath the table, but it’s not helping much.
  • And then Richie goes “Just spit it out, b-b-bill.”
  • Bev smacks the shit out Richie’s arm
  • Eddie does the same with his head.
  • Mike and Ben are fr glaring at him.
  • Stan’s ready to murder him with the spork he got in the lunchline
  • Bill stops talking for the day.
  • Stan doesn’t speak to richie for the rest of the week.
  • “That was fucked up, Richie.” -Eddie
  • “What do you want me to do, Eds? Apologize? Bill probably hates me—“
  • “Don’t call me Eds, and yes! that’s what I’ve been telling you to do for days now!”
  • Stan crawls through Bill’s window at night so he can hold his boyfriend
  • Stan won’t tell him that his dad usually screams at him for being a disgrace to the family.
  • DW, Bill will find out soon enough.
  • Bill hasn’t spoken much, not even with Stan and he is BEYOND PISSED at Richie.
  • “I’m really sorry about Richie, Bill.”
  • “I-It’s not your f-fault, and h-he didn’t mean a-anything by it.”
  • STAN JUST WANTS TO HEAR HIS BOYFRIEND’S VOICE OK
  • also, they haven’t actually called each other boyfriends and they’ve been dating for eight months so
  • “N-No, I know. I just– I just know how he can be.”
  • “I’m fine, Stan.”
  • Bill really was fine about that, he was just stressed because of school.
  • Stan is a few inches taller than Bill (6’0”, while Bill is chilling at 5’10”)
  • which means Bill is the little spoon :)
  • Stan absolutely loves having Bill so close to him. It helps him and Bill sleep because it’s so warm and comfortable, and with his arm around him he feels like he can protect Bill from everyone and everything.
  • And that’s all he wants to do
  • Richie does apologize to Bill, to which Bill says he really didn’t mind (it was mostly Stan)
  • Onto The Next
  • Stan slowly starts wearing brighter colors (i.e the pastels + white)
  • “You’ve gone soft, Stanny Boy” -Bev
  • “Shut the fuck up, Beverly”
  • “I think you look great.” -Mike
  • “That’s gay!” -Richie
  • “Beep Beep, Richie!” -Bev, Stan, and Mike.
  • “I was growing fond of the leather jackets.” -Bill.
  • “It’s too hot for that, Denbrough.”
  • Now, it’s pretty clear how overprotective Stan is of Bill, but Mr. Denbrough is just as bad as he is.
  • Girls flirting with Stan? Issa no from Bill.
  • BUT HE CAN’T DO ANYTHING IN PUBLIC IT SUCKS
  • So it just leads to a very heated makeout later.
  • BOYS flirt with Stan? (yeah, it’s happened) Count Billiam is alive and well.
  • Seriously! the love bites that boy leaves, whew.
  • And stan didn’t give a shit whether or not his dad saw them.
  • “Bill, they’re everywhere. You can stop.”
  • “I’ll st-stop a-as soon as I-I can say h-he’s my f-fucking boyfriend ou-outloud.”
  • “Then do it.”
  • “Stan..”
  • “Do you care anymore?”
  • HE DOESNT. HE REALLY DOESNT GIVE A SHIT BECAUSE HE’S SO FUCKING HAPPY WITH STAN.
  • “N-No”
  • The biggest smile breaks out on the curly haired jewish boys face oh my GOD
  • “Great, I don’t either”
OH, TO BE ALONE WITH YOU (PT. 1)

Pairing: Stenbrough with minor Reddie on the side

Word Count: 3,986

Prompt: Stan Uris moves to Derry, Maine following the death of his father and gets a job babysitting a little boy named Georgie who just so happens to have a very attractive older brother. (Modern High School AU)

Warnings: Mention of death, depression (not a major theme), anti-Semitism, struggles with faith

Link to part two: https://jamespottev.tumblr.com/post/166443144647/how-would-you-feel-if-i-told-you-i-love-you

__________

Sometimes, Stanley Uris didn’t know what was up and what was down. Sometimes, it felt like the world was moving but he was stuck in the same position, day after day. And it sucked. His mother thought that a new start would be good for them, that it would help them move on.

Stan wanted to scream. He wanted to call bullshit on her logic. It wasn’t that he didn’t mind moving. He wasn’t exactly popular back at his old high school in Bangor ( once upon a time, his father had asked him if it was because of them being Jewish – but it wasn’t an anti-Semitic thing, aside from the occasional, always unfunny, holocaust joke, it was more so the depression thing and the OCD thing and the gay thing that drove people away) so it wasn’t like he was going to be all that missed. Even his Jewish friends didn’t seem like they were gonna miss him that much. And it bothered Stan how little he cared about it.

But after his dad died, everything just seemed so… pointless. His father, a man who had never smoked a day in his life, ended up dying of lung cancer. It made Stan furious. At the world. At God. At everything. After watching his father shrivel up into a shell of what he had once been, Stan’s already complicated relationship with religion had turned sour. It infuriated him that his father could be dying and still praising that almighty presence above. Stan wasn’t even sure if he believed anymore.

“Stanley,” his mother’s voice called. “Come on, you’re going to be late!”

Gulping, Stan gave himself a once over and straightened the collar of his shirt before grabbing his backpack. As he left his room and shut the door, he found himself cringing. So, he went back, turned the bedroom light on and then off before shutting his door. Stan repeated that three more times before he was satisfied. It made him feel sick, wrong.

“I think you should start going back to therapy,” his mother told him on the ride to school.

“Mom—”

“No arguments, Stanley,” she said, her voice sharp like the cracking of a whip. “I know you, I know my son. You’re not okay, sweetheart. All I want is for you to be happy. I don’t want to send you off to college in two years with you…”

She trailed off and sighed. Stan could tell that if she hadn’t been driving she would’ve pressed a small kiss to the top of his forehead and hugged him tightly. Stan licked his lips and closed his eyes. He hated how unhappy his mother was. He despised that part of it was caused by him.

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” Andrea Uris said, looking at her pale, skinny son.

“Yeah,” Stan agreed, nodding.

“We can talk about you getting that job. How’s that sound?”

Stan smiled at that. Since his freshman year of high school, he had been begging for a job. He liked the idea of working – the responsibility, the experience, the money that he could save up to buy all the books he’d ever want to read. Stan just really wanted a job. He wanted something to do with his life.

And he also needed to start saving up for college. His father had been a Rabbi and his mother was a kindergarten teacher, so it wasn’t like there was a lot of money in either of those professions. If he didn’t want to leave college with an obscene amount of debt, Stan would have to save money while working his ass off for good grade.

“Hi, I’m Stan Uris,” Stan said in a quiet voice to the lady sitting at the receptionist desk.

“Oh, the new boy!” the receptionist said in a too-loud, too-cheerful voice.

Stan winced a little and smiled.

“Here’s your schedule, and your student guide will be down any minute to take you around!”

The receptionist had an odd accent that Stan wasn’t very fond of, and when she snapped her gum he thought his head might explode.

A minute later, a very clean cut looking black boy with broad shoulders, short hair, and a wide smile walked into the office.

“Hey, you must be Stan,” he said, walking straight over to Stan and offering his hand to shake. “I’m Mike.”

“Hi,” Stan said, shaking Mike’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

As it turned out, Stan and Mike had all the same classes which was why Mike was chosen to give Stan the school tour. Within five minutes, Stan had decided that he liked Mike a lot. Mike was soft spoken, intelligent, and kind. He might have looked like all the football players at Stan’s old school that gave him hell for being gay, but Mike was nothing like that.

So, maybe Derry wouldn’t be that bad.

At lunch, Mike led Stan past the table filled with boys wearing the same kind of jacket as Mike and towards a different table in the corner of the room. At that table sat a very pretty girl with freckles spattered across every bit of visible skin and short cropped red hair. Beside her was a broad boy with dark blonde hair and a shy smile. Another boy sat across from them, lanky and thinly muscled with thick glasses and rather gorgeous dark hair. His arm was slung around the shoulders of a shorter boy with neatly combed chocolate curls. It was a ragtag bunch, but as they greeted Mike with wide smiles Stan could tell that they all loved each other a lot.

“Hey guys,” Mike said, sitting down and gesturing at the empty chair for Stan. “This is Stan, he’s new. Stan, this is Bev, Ben, Eddie, and Richie— where’s Bill?”

“Out sick,” Richie, the boy with glasses, snorted, ducking his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

Richie’s body convulsed with laughter Stan didn’t really understand. He stayed silent and began unpacking his lunch.

“What did you do to him?” Mike sighed, looking towards Bev.

“Hey, he agreed to drink with us,” Bev said defensively.

“They’re ridiculous,” Mike murmured to Stan, drawing a small smile from the new boy. “Don’t hold them against me?”

__

“So, I found a job for you,” Andrea told Stan that night after setting out dinner.

“Yeah?” Stan asked.

He held his breath for a moment, unsure if he was willing to trust his mother’s judgement on this.

“Yes. A woman named Sharon at my work was saying how she needs a babysitter for her son Georgie on Thursdays and Fridays,” Andrea said, stabbing her fork into her salad.

“Babysitting?” Stan asked, trying his best to hide his annoyance. “Mom. I don’t want to babysit.”

“It’s fifteen dollars an hour, Stanley,” Andrea said. “Sharon said it would be for at least five hours each night, so that’s at least a hundred and fifty dollars every week.”

Stan quickly did the math. If he kept fifty dollars every week for himself ( though, he didn’t have friends or much of a social life so why would he really need fifty dollars a week to do things? Well, Mike and his friends had been welcoming enough… maybe he’d finally have some friends… ) he could put away a hundred bucks each week. If he kept that consistent for two years ( and who knew what this kid’s parents would need over school breaks and the summer ) Stan could have a significant amount of money saved when he needed to get to college.

Suddenly, babysitting didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

“So, when do I start?” Stan asked.

Andrea beamed at her son.

“I have her number written down. You can call her after dinner and ask.”

__

As it turned out, Sharon Denbrough needed Stan to start ASAP. And tomorrow was Friday, meaning that Stan would be babysitting ten-year-old Georgie from 5:00 to 11:00.

When Stan shuffled into school, head down, he went straight to his locker. The girl to his left and her friends shot him a weird look, though Stan wasn’t all that sure why. He wasn’t that weird looking.

“Stan!” Mike’s voice boomed cheerfully.

Stan looked up and smiled at the approaching boy. Mike was walking with Ben and a boy Stan didn’t meet yesterday. But, boy, did he wish he had. The stranger was tall ( probably a little over six-feet, which definitely didn’t make Stan a little weak in the knees — no siree! ) and had light brown hair combed and styled very neatly. And his eyes—they were the bluest blue Stan had ever seen.

“Hi Mike, Ben,” Stan said in his typical quiet fashion, quickly glancing at the other boy before shifting his eyes down to the textbook in his arms.

“Stan, this is Bill. He was sick yesterday,” Ben said. “Richie mentioned you and Bill was anxious to meet the new kid on the block.”

Both Bill and Mike snorted quietly as Ben’s mouth lifted into a small smirk. Stan didn’t get the joke.

“It’s nice to meet you, Stan,” Bill said.

His words were slow and deliberate, and Stan really liked that.

“You too, Bill,” Stan replied, hoping that he wasn’t blushing.

If he was, no one said anything.

At lunch time, Richie clapped Stan on the shoulder and loudly proclaimed that his algebra teacher was a homophobic piece of shit.

“Why is he homophobic, Rich?” Bev asked, smirking at the boy.

“He told me I would never accomplish anything in life and is making me serve detention on Monday! This is gay oppression!” Richie exclaimed, flabbergasted.

Stan chuckled quietly.

“So, Stan, do you want to see Kingsman with us tonight?”

Stan’s heart bloomed within his chest, filling him with a warmness he had never felt before. He sighed, silently cursing his need for a job.

“I can’t,” Stan said, scratching behind his ear. “I have to babysit tonight.”

The rest of the group shut up about the movies after that. Stan realized that they were doing it for him—so he wouldn’t feel bad about missing out. The thought made him smile.

As a matter of fact, he was still smiling about it as he walked to Georgie Denbrough’s house.

“You must be Stan,” a tall, handsome man said with a warm smile as he opened the door. “It’s nice to meet you, son. I’m Zack Denbrough, Georgie’s dad.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well, sir,” Stan said politely, shaking his hand.

“Georgie!” Zack yelled up the stairs. “Come down, please!”

Seconds later, a small boy was sprinting down the stairs with a manic smile on his face, laughing as a tall, slightly muscled, shirtless boy ( Georgie’s brother, Stan assumed ) chased after him. Stan froze when he saw that the boy was Bill from school.

“Georgie, g-give me my sh-shirt!” Bill yelled.

Georgie was laughing still, loudly. The laughter was echoing around the house. Georgie and Bill sprinted past Stan without sparing him a second glance. A moment later, there was a loud scream followed by laughter as Bill, while laughing, called Georgie a twerp.

“My sons are rather… hyperactive,” Zack told Stan with an apologetic glance. “Once Bill leaves, Georgie will calm down, though. The two rile each other up.”

Stan swallowed thickly and nodded. His throat felt very dry, and his hands were beginning to itch. Slowly and deliberately, he dragged his blunt nails up and down the material of jeans that covered the outside of his thighs.

“Georgie, come meet your babysitter,” Zack said, walking out of the entrance hall and into the kitchen. “And, Bill, for God’s sake, put on a shirt.”

After a second’s deliberation when Stan seriously considered booking it out of the Denbrough house, he made his way into the kitchen. He caught Bill’s eyes and gulped.

“Stan! Hey!” Bill exclaimed happily, pulling a black t-shirt over his head. “When you said you had to babysit, I didn’t realize you’d be babysitting Georgie. I thought you had a younger brother or sister.”

“No,” Stan said, shaking his head and trying to remember not to stare at Bill. “I’m an only child.”

“Ooh, I wish,” Bill chuckled, sticking his tongue out at Georgie who reciprocated the motion.

Stan laughed dryly.

It wasn’t long before Zack and Sharon left for their date night, letting Stan know that they left forty dollars on the counter for him to order food and that he was welcome to keep the change. Bill was still there when his parents left.

While Georgie was showering, Stan took his opportunity to talk to Bill.

“So, uh, why aren’t you babysitting your brother?” Stan asked.

Really, Stan?’ he thought to himself. ‘What a stupid fucking question.’

Bill’s face went a little pink and he began to rub the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I’m not really allowed to do that anymore,” Bill said, his words paired with an awkward laugh. “Last time I babysat Georgie, it was pouring r-ruh-rain and I let him go outside, and he ended up getting wicked sick. My p—parents were really angry with me.”

Stan hadn’t noticed Bill’s stutter earlier. He didn’t say anything about it, though. Instead, he merely smiled a little.

“Well, if I’m ever babysitting Georgie and it rains, I’ll make sure not to let him go out.”

Bill threw his head back and laughed loudly. As his laughter died down, he bumped his shoulder softly against Stan’s and bit down on his lip. Yet again, Stan was gulping because of Bill Denbrough.

“I should get going,” Bill said, a look of regret crossing over his face. He stood up and patted Stan on the shoulder, but his hand lingered for a moment. “I’ll catch you later, Stan. I’ll probably be home before my parents.”

Georgie was a cute kid, and very sweet. He made a lot of meme jokes, which he told Stan he had learned from Richie. One time this past summer, Georgie told Stan, he ran into Bill’s room and dabbed with two fidget spinners in his hands. When Bill found out that Richie had been the one to tell Georgie to do it, Bill didn’t speak to Richie for a day and blocked him on all forms of social media.

At 9:00, Stan had to put Georgie to bed. After that, he had two hours to spare before he got to leave. And considering he was in someone else’s home, he had no idea what to do. So, he just grabbed a book from his bag and sat down in their living room to read.

Bill came home at 9:30, and when he saw Stan curled up on his couch reading a book on birds ( of all things ), he couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“What?” Stan asked, a little defensively.

“Nothing,” Bill assured him, sitting down next to him on the couch. “It’s just— well, a book on birds?”

“I happen to like birds,” Stan said, eyes narrowed. “They’re interesting.”

“Yeah? How so?” Bill asked, genuinely curious.

And so, for the next hour and a half, Stan talked to Bill about all different kinds of birds and the best places in Maine to go bird watching. And Bill seemed really interested too, he was asking questions and just looked completely earnest. By the time Sharon and Zack came back home, Stan hadn’t even realized that it was 11:00.

“I noticed you didn’t drive here,” Bill said, sneaking up on Stan as he put his coat and shoes on. “D-do you want me to drive you h-h-home?”

Stan almost protested, but he was feeling selfish. He wanted to spend more time with Bill, even if it was only for a ten-minute car ride.

“Thanks, Bill,” Stan murmured once Bill pulled into his driveway. “I’ll see you Monday.”

“Wait,” Bill exclaimed, grabbing Stan’s wrist. “Give me your number.”

Bill wiggled his phone in front of Stan’s face, blue eyes wide. Stan thought his face was going to split in two from how big his smile was. Eagerly ( maybe a little too eagerly, but Stan didn’t know much about this kind of thing ), Stan punched his number into Bill’s phone. If he was a more confident kid, he might have put some kind of witty, suggestive emoji next to his contact name… but Stan wasn’t like that.

“So, who’s the boy?” Andrea asked with a coy smirk on her face, watching as her blushing son stumbled his way backwards into the house, waving goodbye to the boy who was sitting in his car.

“There— there’s no boy. What are you talking about?” Stan blustered.

Andrea rolled her eyes.

“Stan, I’m your mother. You’re supposed to tell me these things.”

Stan sighed and relented, rolling his eyes.

“His name’s Bill,” Stan said.

“Do you like him?”

“I met him this morning, Mom!”

“Okay. So, what?”

Stan groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“He’s Georgie’s older brother and offered to drive me home because I don’t have a car. That’s all.”

Andrea hummed suspiciously, but didn’t press Stan further.

__

“My brother thinks you’re hot.”

Georgie’s statement was so bluntly presented that Stan choked on the slice of pizza he was eating.

“I heard him talking with Bev and Mike about it the other day,” Georgie added, grinning at Stan.

“Oh,” Stan said in a high, uneven voice. “That’s nice.”

“Do you think he’s hot?”

Stan’s face was burning.

“Georgie—”

“What?” Georgie asked, putting on his best angel face.

“I’m not talking about your brother with you,” Stan snorted. “And you’re ten, which is just— no.”

“I’m gonna be eleven next month,” Georgie whined.

Stan wasn’t amused.

“Eat your pizza, Georgie.”

__

“Do you think he’s hot yet?”

“Georgie, you need to go to bed!” Stan exclaimed, trying his best not to laugh at Georgie’s persistence.

All night, he had been pestering Stan about his thoughts on Bill. Like, yeah, Stan thought Bill was hot. But he wasn’t about to tell Georgie that. If he said anything, Georgie would definitely repeat it back to Bill ( Stan wasn’t ignorant to Georgie’s hero-worship of his brother ) and then Bill would think Stan was weird. Though, Georgie did say that Bill thought he was hot.

“Did he really say— agh! Never mind! Go to bed!”

Stan seriously considered throwing himself in front of a bus then and there. Was he seriously just about to ask a ten-year old about that? UGH!

Georgie laughed.

Bill arrived home not long after that, grinning. Georgie shut his mouth about Stan finding Bill hot.

__

Three weeks after Georgie asked Stan if he thought Bill was hot, Stan had the weekend off. Bill’s parents were going away for a few nights for their anniversary and Georgie was going to stay with Sharon’s sister in the next town over. That meant Bill had the house to himself.

If Bill was a different kid, he would’ve been instantly sending out invites to a party. But Bill was Bill, and he wasn’t like that. Instead, he invited Stan over for a movie night.

Andrea drove Stan over to Bill’s house and quickly lectured Stan on practicing safe sex. Stan wanted to die.

“Mom! Holy, crap!” Stan exclaimed, his face beet red. “It’s not— we’re not— no! Anyways, the rest of our friends are gonna be there!”

The rest of their friends ( ‘The Losers Club’ they were often referred to by a senior named Henry Bowers and his gang of asshole friends, but Stan didn’t pay them much attention ) were, in fact, not there.

“I didn’t realize it would be just us,” Stan muttered, glancing around Bill’s dark house.

“Oh,” Bill said, rubbing his neck. “I didn’t— are you upset?”

“No,” Stan said, smiling. “I just thought— you know what? It’s not important.”

Bill smiled that breathtaking smile of his and Stan found himself wishing for a puff of Eddie’s inhaler.

“Richie was saying I should throw a party this weekend,” Bill snorted. “And Bev was saying we should utilize my empty house and my father’s never ending liquor supply and get drunk.”

Stan didn’t think that sounded too awful. Well, the getting drunk part at least… so long it was only their group of seven. He wouldn’t want other people around. Just the seven of them… ‘the lucky seven’ had Mike called them a couple weeks ago. The thought made Stan smile a bit.

“Would getting drunk be that bad?” Stan asked Bill, a smile on his face.

“Not if it was just the two of us,” Bill replied easily in his slow deliberate voice.

The voice that made Stan’s knees go weak and stomach tie in knots.

Not if it was just the two of us… Stan flushed a deep red.

“So, I ordered us pizza,” Bill said, gesturing to a box on the table. “Normally I go with pepperoni or barbeque chicken, but I know it’s not kosher for Jewish people to eat pig or meat and cheese — that’s the right word, right? Kosher?”

Stan had barely thought about his faith in months. It had seemed so insignificant, so unreal for him after his dad died. And when it came to eating kosher— well, that had been the way he lived his life for the past sixteen years so he never even really thought about it. But Bill had thought about it.

Stan suddenly felt the urge to kiss Bill, but he had enough will power to stop himself.

“Is regular cheese fine?”

Bill was being so casual, acting as if nothing was wrong. Well, not that anything was wrong… but he had just made a significant impact on Stan and was acting as if nothing had happened.

“Cheese is perfect,” Stan said softly.

Bill beamed and Stan felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest.

Stan really wanted to kiss Bill. But he didn’t.

After they ate their pizza, Bill suggested they watch something. And by something, Stan knew that Bill meant Game of Thrones. Bill was a die-hard Thrones fan and nearly had an aneurism when he found out that Stan didn’t watch it. Last week, he finally convinced Stan to start watching it. Stan was already on season three.

Bill sat down next to Stan, but in an unnecessarily close way. Stan sat curled against the arm of the couch and Bill sat right down beside him. There was only a small inch or so of space between them. Stan said nothing because he didn’t want Bill to move away.

“You know, I feel bad for Theon,” Stan confessed.

Bill didn’t say anything.

“I mean, I understand why he did what he did. He just wanted his father’s approval. I don’t agree with his actions, but I understand the motive. You know? And, wow, he really does not deserve… that.”

“You’re cute.”

Stan’s eyes went wide, and so did Bill’s. From how red Bill’s face was, Stan could tell he most definitely did not mean to say that out loud.

“Thanks,” Stan found himself saying. “You too.”

And then he kissed Bill. Holy shit. He was kissing Bill. And Bill was kissing him back.

WOW! WOW! WOW!

Even for a first kiss, it was pretty awesome. Stan had no idea what he was doing with his mouth, but Bill seemed to have some experience so he took charge. His right hand went around the back of Stan’s neck, while the other propped himself up against the arm of the couch that Stan’s back was pressed against.

Stan was in paradise, his hands wrapped around Bill and digging into Bill’s soft hair.

When Bill pulled away, they were both panting, gasping for air. Bill’s eyes were peering into Stan’s, and both boys smiled before Stan pulled Bill’s face down, crushing his lips to Bill’s once more.

____________________

Come On Eileen

Wow!! We out here!! Thanks to @spookyflashlight for going through this with me to make sure is was *worthy* please make requests!! I would love to do them! anyways, here is this short Reddie thing that I wrote because this is one of my fave songs. Also there’s stenbrough if you squint and benverly. 

Based off of the song Come On Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners

Warnings: Cursing (as usual lol), kissing, slight homophobia (internalized and external), and also my kids dancing to this great song


It starts like this: Richie is sitting on Eddie’s bed after a long, shitty day, when the song comes on. It had been raining all day, and there was no sign of it stopping. To make matters worse they had to walk back to Eddie’s house in the downpour, and had a run in with Bowers and the rest of his pack on the way. They had luckily gotten away with nothing more than a few bruises that had yet to form, but it made Eddie’s mood match the weather outside.

Eddie can already feel his heart thrumming with love for the music, desperately wanting to dance to it, but not wanting to embarrass himself in front of Richie. Lord knows he would say something. He’s already had the worst day, his mood seemingly unable to lift. Richie does indeed say something, but it’s not at all what Eddie thought he would.

“Dance with me, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie stands, his tone dreamy, grabbing Eddie’s hands and they begin to twirl.  

Eddie wasn’t dancing full force by any means. This wasn’t a twirling song, this was a jump up and down throw your limbs in every which way song. Eddie knew that, Richie knew that, and still they swayed the first time it played. That was fine; that was perfect. For the first time in a while Eddie didn’t feel like he had to be anything other than who he was.  

Richie was spinning the smaller boy around the room, his worries effectively slipping away like wicks of water. The slow part of the song came on, and Richie had slowed down his moves, snapping and speeding up as the song had, and clutching onto Eddie and jumping towards the climax of the song. Smiles seemed like they would never leave their faces, and the song ended, leaving the two boys to collapse onto Eddie’s bed, and hearing Mrs. Kaspbrak to yell up the stairs;

“Eddie! Don’t play your music so loud, you know it hurts your ears!”

They boys have stitches in their stomachs after that.


The second time it played, it’s years later at a school dance. He and Richie hadn’t gone together, but they were together. Sipping on spiked fruit punch (courtesy of Richie) and listening to too many romantic songs. Eddie felt a burning in his chest, his anxiety was rising, and instinctively he reached for the inhaler he knew wouldn’t be there anymore. Richie seemed to notice, like Richie notices everything about Eddie, and struts over to the DJ, muttering a few sentences and not so discretely sliding him some bills, before the song comes loudly on the speakers and Richie walks back over to his crush.

“May I have this dance, Mr. Kaspbrak?” He hums, extending his hand for Eddie to grasp. Eddie’s cheeks heat up, glancing around at the eyes glued to their interaction.

“Richie, you don’t have to…the people here…” He trails off, making his hands stay limp at his sides. Richie takes Eddie’s hand, leading him towards the dance floor, ignoring Eddie’s nervous complaints about what are people going to say?

“You really think I give a damn about what people say about me? They don’t know a thing about me, or about us. Don’t give them the satisfaction, Eds.” Richie murmurs, close to Eddie’s ear so nobody else can hear what he has to say. “Please, dance with me.”

With those words, Eddie’s hands grip Richie’s, and they begin a seamless dance. It seems like they’ve both been practicing the moves for forever, but they haven’t danced to this song since that day in Eddie’s bedroom.

Richie lets Eddie lead for about half the song, jumping and shaking their curly hair as they go crazy with the intense music. Richie can see Eddie mouthing the words with passion, and when the slow part comes, he does the same thing he did years ago, approaching Eddie with snaps speeding up as the music does, but this time instead of Richie throwing his arm around the boy, Eddie beats him to it. Even though Eddie is smaller than Richie, Richie is surprised at how strong the grip around his arms is, and they begin to jump together once again.

It’s at this moment that two boys look away from each other and realize that nobody is staring at them, instead, they’re all dancing with their respective friends or dates, giving no mind to the two gay boys. It’s at this moment that Eddie realizes that he wouldn’t give a damn even if they were staring, because goddamn it, he loved Richie Tozier. He loved Richie Tozier and he was going to kiss him if it was the last thing he did.

He did.

(It wasn’t the last time.)


The third time Eddie is so free, because they’ve moved from Derry, and it definitely adds to their life span. He and Richie live in a small studio apartment in L.A, and the song comes on over their radio. They’re both doing work on their bed, but almost immediately, Richie jumps up, pulling on Eddie’s hands for him to follow. Eddie groans, but he’s not really unhappy, he’s so happy.

Dancing ensues, Richie’s hands on Eddie’s hips as they execute wild moves and jumps. Eddie and Richie alternate in twirling the other. They yell and laugh and scream the lyrics, along with impersonating the instruments (Richie is much better at it than Eddie). There is little to no room to be doing this, and they know that they’re going to get a noise complaint when Richie turns to volume dial almost to max.

Eddie is swaying while Richie twirls the pen he put in his mouth with his tongue. They grasp each other’s hands and just start hopping in place, and by the end of it, their downstairs neighbors are banging on the ceiling for them to stop jumping, and both of their cheeks hurt because their smiling and laughing so hard. They collapse collectively on the bed, papers crinkling and pens flying. Eddie turns to his boyfriend of four years, just as Richie does the same. As if they were connected,

(They were)

They asked the

(same)

Question at the

(same)

Time;

“Marry me?”

They say yes at the

(same)

Time.


The fourth time the song plays, Eddie’s heart is in his stomach. His mother didn’t go to the wedding. She called him sick. Homosexuality is a sickness. He’s still sick. He’s always been sick, hasn’t he? He’s always been very fragile, right? The only problem was that when he looked at Richie, his husband, he didn’t feel sick. He didn’t feel sick when Richie made his heart race, he didn’t feel sick when he would kiss him. He felt the best he’s ever felt when he’s with him. How could he be sick when Richie was his cure?

It’s a small wedding. Close friends and family. Bill and Stan, and their daughter; Georgia. Ben and Bev, Mike and his mother, and a few work friends. The reception is held at Bill and Stan’s new house, and Richie made Eddie promise to let him choose their first dance song. He’s waiting anxiously as Richie uses Stan’s iPod to find the song and hook it up to their loud speakers. Stan put Georgia on his shoulders to act as an announcer.

“Now intwoducing Uncle Eddie and Uncle Wichie!” She yells, not able to pronounce her ‘r’s very well.

Richie is standing in the middle of their living room, his tie loosened and his jacket unbuttoned. With one hand in his pocket and the other extended to his husband, Richie beckons Eddie to him, and Eddie hears the beginning notes.

“You didn’t.” Eddie laughs, quickly latching his hand onto Richie’s.

“What else would I pick?” Richie smiles, pulling Eddie towards him, and immediately starts a quick-paced box dance.

Soon enough the rest of the Losers and the other guests join in, Georgia insisting on dancing with the newlyweds, grasping each one of their hands in her own and simply spinning in a circle and dancing. Near the end, Stan steals her away, and Eddie and Richie are left back to slowly dancing, barely keeping up with the beat. It didn’t matter.

“Jesus fuck, Eds. Twelve years. Twelve years I’ve loved you.” Richie smiles, and Eddie blushes.

“Stop. You’re making me blush.” Eddie giggles and Richie places his lips on his husband’s.

“That’s exactly why I’m doing it. Plus the whole I-married-my-first-love thing I got going on.” Richie speaks and Eddie blushes even harder rolling his eyes.

“I’ve loved you for thirteen, so; beat that Kaspbrak.” Eddie smirks, using Richie’s new last name.

“Oh, you’re so on, Kaspbrak.”

The song fades out, and they kiss once more, letting it last until Georgia yells in glee;

“Again!”

( &; WANTED PLOTS )
  •  sex hotline au where muse a is a phone sex operator and muse b is an awkward freshman in college who wants a taste before stepping out into the real world. what’s meant to be a five minute phone call turns into an hour long fest, featuring several mind-blowing orgasms and learning more about each other than professionally appropriate. muse b gets a part time job just to pay for their possibly harmful sex addiction (or just addiction to muse a’s voice) and the two converse regularly for months. one day, muse b hears an oh-so-familiar voice ordering coffee in the line in front of them.
  • cliché best friend’s older brother plot where muse a is infatuated with their best friend’s older brother muse b, who they see occasionally when they’re over to study or for a sleepover. when muse a is a freshman and at their first high school party, they have their first kiss who’s later discovered to be muse b. muse b rejects muse a as soon as they’re confronted, which leaves muse a heartbroken until muse b goes off to college. three years later muse a gets accepted to the same college as muse b, and they see each other once again.
  • classical musician au? like muse a is a highly acclaimed classical musician (piano/violin/etc) who’s lost sight of their love for music, where their entire life revolves around their profession and being technically flawless but bland. muse b is a busker barely making rent every month, and when muse a hears muse b playing outside a coffee shop one day they’re completely captivated by muse b’s music. it’s a love for music they haven’t felt in ages, which is why muse a makes a quick move to get to know this struggling street musician.
  • private school au where it’s the holidays and muse a and muse b are the only two students staying at school during the break. it’s quite awkward as they’ve never so much as talked before, but their secret admiring glances at each other haven’t gone unnoticed by other students. their first conversation results in a snowball fight and they spend the entire break glued at the hip.
  • celebrity plot where muse a and muse b are both successful musicians with humongous fan-bases. muse a tweets an insult about muse b’s favorite movie and muse b decides to take a jab at muse a’s music. what starts as a fun feud gets blown up by the fans, to the point where there’s blogs and accounts dedicated to the two of them getting together.
  • radio host au where muse a is the familiar voice of reason on the university’s popular radio station. muse b admires from afar, from the ace music choices to the heartfelt advice that muse a always seems to have for their listeners. muse b is harshly dumped by their girlfriend/boyfriend one night, and decides to call in to their favorite radio station to whine. the conversation lasts longer than the allotted time for a single caller. on air flirting is a legitimate thing, right?
  • hospital au where muse a is a volunteer at the local hospital because they like to help out, reading children stories and helping them color. muse b is spoiled and bratty with a set of famous parents, and after getting arrested for their reckless behavior muse b’s parents order them to help out with the hospital in order to improve their reputation. at first muse b walks around like they own the place because of their parent’s significant donations to the hospital, but muse a refuses to give in to muse b’s absurd demands. muse b learns sympathy and muse a learns that people really can change.
Coming Home to Me

On the day they met, Dean Winchester is four years old.  Emblazoned on the front of his light blue teddy T-shirt are the words I Wuv Hugz, and everyone who’s ever met Dean can verify the accuracy of this statement.

Everyone who’s ever met his new neighbor, Castiel Novak, knows the opposite is true.  It’s 1983, and though terms like Asperger’s Syndrome and touch aversion have yet to seep into public consciousness, Cas had been sure to convey his displeasure to anyone who’s ever tried to hug him without his explicit consent.

As such, both the boys’ parents watch with considerable apprehension as Dean toddles up to the newcomer, ready to bestow upon him the signature Winchester greeting. 

He throws his pudgy arms around Castiel’s slight shoulders, squeezing him as tightly as his little body will allow. 

Castiel’s haggard single mother, Naomi, squeezes her eyes shut and braces herself for the ear-splitting wail that is sure to follow.  To her surprise, there is none.  

Instead, when she dares to look again, Cas is, for the first time in his short life, expressing physical affection, his thin arms wrapped delicately around Dean’s shoulders.  

In a voice so soft no one but Dean can hear it, Castiel murmurs, “Hello, Dean.” 

It’s now 1988.

Dean Winchester is nine years old, down a parent, and up a…well, he’s hesitant to refer to Cas as like a brother, though adults in his life have described it as such.  It just feels wrong to him, for reasons he has yet to put his finger on. 

Regardless, Cas has become remarkably close, mostly because his mother – a single parent, struggling to make ends meet – is almost never home.  As his closest neighbors and closest friends, Cas ends up spending more time at the Winchesters’ house than he does at his own.  

Dean still wuvs hugz, though he’s now less willing to admit to such, and Cas, miracle of all miracles, still never fails to return them.  Indeed, Dean is one of the few people Cas will willingly touch.

At present, the boys are cuddled up on Dean’s lower bunk while young Sammy snoozes above them, a rerun of the Three Stooges buzzing on Dean’s fuzzy, black-and-white TV set.  

99% of the time, Cas doesn’t understand the humor, fails to see the amusement in watching three people brutalize one another.  But he enjoys hearing Dean laugh, the feel of his warm breath against the back of his neck.  It makes him feel comforted.  

It makes him feel home. 

Contentedly, Cas closes his eyes.  He’s just drifting off when he hears Dean say, “Oh.  Hi, Daddy.” 

For some reason, he sounds nervous.  

When Cas blinks open his eyes, he sees why:  John is standing in the doorway, glowering at them, a strange sort of contempt darkening his glassy eyes.  He’s yards away from them, leaning in the doorless entryway to the boys’ room, but Cas can smell the pungent stench of alcohol wafting off of him.

“You boys’re too old to be doin’ that,” is all he mutters, before staggering away and leaving the confused duo with the vague but pervasive sense that they’ve done something wrong.  

Cas glances over at Dean, who’s now worrying his lower lip and won’t meet his eyes.  

Cas pats his hand.  “My mommy smells that way when she gets sad,” he offers. 

For some reason, it seems to help.

It’s now 1996, and in that very same room, the boys are having a slumber party.  Of course, they’re not allowed to call it a slumber party, because they’re boys over the age of twelve, and rules of social conduct dictate that it be called hanging out.

But, essentially, it was a slumber party.

Cas skipped a grade, while Dean was held back one, and as such, they haven’t seen as much of one another as either party would have liked.  

Still, Dean is popular, and surprisingly, so is Cas:  yes, he’s undeniably nerdy and not a little weird, but there’s an inherent niceness to him that makes him a pleasant person to be around.

Dean has had the pleasure of witnessing this all evening, as Cas interacts with Charlie, with Gabe, with Kevin and Garth and Benny, and even the little gray mixed breed that recently followed Sam home.  Regardless of what is being said, Cas listens to each of them with his undivided attention, head nodding, blue eyes wide with interest. 

Dean is content, for once, to quietly observe, witnessing his friend for the first time through the others’ eyes.

Later that night, however, when they line the floor like sleeping caterpillars in their multicolored sleeping bags, Dean once again has Cas all to himself, facing one another in the bunk they’d shared all those years ago.  

There’s a flutter in their chests that wasn’t there before, a not-entirely-unpleasant sensation that neither one can place. 

Years later, Dean won’t remember what it was Cas was saying.  He’ll only remember the soft, gravelly rasp of his voice, his crystalline blue eyes as they stared so intently into his own.  

He’ll remember how soft his chapped, full lips felt as he found himself kissing them, the tickle of his faint stubble.

He’ll remember the instant he pulled away, and the long moment in which they just silently stared, a million wordless protests racing through their minds:  it’s the mid-nineties, and the heat of the AIDs epidemic is still fresh in the public’s memory.  It’s by no means a good time to be gay, or anything close it.

More than anything, he’ll remember the exact moment he decided he didn’t care, that nothing in the world mattered more than having Castiel’s lips against his own.

He’ll remember the instant Cas silently agreed with him when he kissed back. 

It’s 2002. 

Cas is going to medical school.  Sam is going to college. 

Dean is going overseas.  

In the end, he really doesn’t have a choice in the matter:  he never had gotten his high school diploma, weighed down by the burden of being his family’s full-time emotional (and ultimately, financial) provider. 

He’d tried so hard to juggle the two, coming home straight after school everyday to clean up and make dinner, to fill the role his mother had vacated when she’d died of cancer years before, and helping Sammy with his homework every evening before he even got started on his own.

He eventually had to give up and drop out of school entirely when John left them, and he had to get a full time job at his Uncle Bobby’s garage just to make ends meet.

But never once had Dean given up on the hope of making his life meaningful, of helping others and saving lives. 

When he was younger, he’d wanted to go to nursing or medical school, perhaps become a paramedic, but as a high school flunky with five bucks to his name, this option is out for the time being. 

So really, his only option is overseas.

Cas knew this, and he knows he should have prepared himself better.  Yet this does little to stop the tears from falling as he holds his fiance’s hands, freshly gifted engagement rings glinting in the evening sun.

Dean smiles that goofy, crooked smile, puts on a brave face as he wipes the tears away.  

“Hey, now,” he says, chuckling painfully.  “Ain’t we talked about this, angel?  You know I don’t do chick-flick moments.”

Cas smiles faintly, nearly argues that Dean loves chick-flicks and they both know it, but he finds he doesn’t have it in him for their usual, lighthearted banter.  

“Promise me you’ll come home,”  he says instead.  

For a moment, Dean’s facade falters, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.  Still, his smile remains fixedly – painfully – in place.  

“I promise, angel,” he whispers.

Eighteen months later, Dean comes home.  Or rather, most of him does.  

They’ll both realize, with time, that Dean lost a part of himself overseas, and it wasn’t just the tip of his now-stubby left pinky finger that he’ll forever use to give Sam wet willies for maximum gross-out factor.  It wasn’t just the majority of the flesh of his left arm and ribcage, that took the brunt of the damage when the bomb went off, the drum-tight, pinkish scar tissue there to remind him whenever he examines himself shirtless in the bathroom mirror.

It’s something intangible, that will make itself evident the first time he ushers Cas away from their bedroom window, mind already anticipating the crackle of bullets and the shattering of class.  The first time he wakes up, heart pounding, to the crashing of a garbage truck or early summer fireworks, every instinct screaming for him to find shelter.  

Dean knows he lost something overseas, a part of himself he’ll never fully be able to recover.

But he’ll be okay.  They both will.  

In time, he’ll finally get his GED.  He’ll go to community college, and then, to nursing school, finally able to fulfill his dream of saving lives, helping others in his own way.  

He and Cas will get married in the fall, and though it will take years of convincing on Cas’s end, convincing that Dean will not become a replica of his father, they’ll have kids:  Claire and Ben, adopted two years apart.  Dean will be startled by how completely they feel like his own.  

They’ll be okay.  In spite of it all, they’ll be okay.  Life will go on, and it will be a good one.

But for now, all that matters is here at the airport, searching the crowd for that messy head of raven hair he knows is waiting for him.  

His heart skips a beat when he finally spots it.  

The years have been good to Castiel.  His shoulders visibly broader beneath his usual beige trench, a veritable sea of stubble framing the familiar, chapped lips.  Eyes, somehow bluer than Dean remembered them, widened when they met his own.  

Dean swallowed.  Make no mistake, Cas had always been gorgeous, but now…damn.

For a moment, the two just stare at each other, neither sure what to say.  

Finally, Dean chuckles wetly.  “Angel,” he huffs, with his best attempt at a cocky smile.  “You’re…you’re all grown up.”

Castiel says nothing.  Wordlessly, he moves forward, strong arms enveloping Dean’s shoulders.  Dean rests his head in the crook of his neck, breathing in a shaky, relieved breath as he feels the familiar prickle of stubble, taking in the clean, soapy scent he hadn’t known how much he’d missed.  It makes him feel comforted.  

It feels like home. 

A soft, gravelly voice rasps gently in his ear,  “Hello, Dean.”                  

spicy-molotov  asked:

writing/dialogue prompt (for whatever paring/group you want): "we have an emergency, this is not a drill"

Thank you my love! I hope you don’t mind that I picked pre-wolfstar angst <3


- “We have an emergency, this is not a drill!” James barged into the dorm room, the door bouncing off of the wall with a loud bang.

- The other two marauders, Sirius and Peter, who were sat on Sirius’ bed playing chess, both jumped at the loud noise.

- “Whats up, Prongs?” Peter asked, taking the opportunity to move his queen. “Ha, checkmate!” 

- “Aw what?” Sirius whined. “Damn it, Prongs! You and your melodramatic-ness made me loose!” 

- “Never mind that tat, we have an emergency! Did you not hear me?!” James waved his arms frantically. 

- “Yes James, we heard you. As did the rest of bloody Hogwarts.” Sirius huffed. “Are you going to tell us what the emergency is or what?”

- “It’s Remus!” 

- At that, Sirius jumped off the bed, Peter right behind him, and ran over to James.

- “Remus? What about Remus? Is he okay?! Where is he?!” He demanded.

- Since ‘the prank’ three months ago, Remus hardly spent any time with the marauders choosing to instead spend his time alone in the library or tutoring numerous of students. 

- Sirius couldn’t even remember the last time that Remus even spoke to him - not that he deserved it but it still hurt.

- It hurt even more that once Remus stopped talking to him, he realised how head of heels in love with Remus he actually was. 

- “Pads … I think he’s on a date!” James grabbed ahold of Sirius’ wrist and pulled him out the door. “With Lily!”

- “WHAT?!” Sirius screamed, grabbing ahold of Peter’s wrist too and yanking him along with them.

- The three boy’s ran to the balcony that over looked the common room to see Remus sat in the arm chair by the fire with Lily Evans sat on the arm leaning heavily onto him, laughing loudly and smiling brightly at each other.

- Sirius felt his heart sink.

- “But … but that can’t be possible.” He whispered.

- “I doubt that Remus would do that to you, James,” Peter chirped in, “I know he doesn’t really talk much to us anymore, but he’s still your friend.”

- “But what if he always liked Lily, Pete, and just never said cause we were best friends? And what if now he doesn’t speak to us he thought ‘well, might as well now I have a chance’?” James worried his hands together. “She always did like him better than me.”

- “Nah, I don’t believe it for one sec…” Peter began, but was cut off when he saw Lily kiss Remus on the cheek and jump from his lap with a wave and a giggle and stalk out of the portrait hole.

- Remus blushed a little and covered his cheek with his hand.

- “Oh.” Peter cringed.

- “That’s it. I’m confronting him.” James shouted and stomped down the stairs and over to Remus. 


- Remus had returned to the book he was reading before Lily came over to gossip about what she caught Marlene and Dorcas doing in the 6th floor broom cupboard minutes before Filch rounded the corner on her rounds the night before.

- He was just getting to the part where The Man In Black was about to reveal the fact that he was Westley, Buttercup’s true love, when he felt a large shadow casting over him. 

- He looked up to see James Potter looming over him with his hand’s on his hips looking very stern.

- “Hello James.” Remus said with uncertainty.

- “Are you and Lily going out?” He rushed. 

- Remus couldn’t help that laugh that bubbled out with him.

- “What?!” He chuckled, “god, no!” 

- “What, she isn’t good enough for you?!” James furrowed his brows even more, crossing his hand’s over his chest.

- “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all, James. Merlin, what’s gotten into you?” Remus smirked.

- “Well then, what the hell was all that about? You two all curled up and laughing, and … and … and she kissed you!” 

- “James, you guys kiss me all the time,” he sighed, “well, you used to when we were friends.”

- “Remus …” 

- He closed his book and got up from his seat.

- “Remus, we are still frie-”

- “No, it’s okay. Let’s not get into this. I have to go tutor some third year anyway, but James. Lily and I aren’t dating. She’s not my type.” 

- Just as he began to walk around James and to the portrait hole, his eyes found Sirius’ who was stood near the couch as if he followed James but didn’t want to approach Remus himself.

- They both stared at each other with longing and regret.

- “And what is your type?” James asked, oblivious to the looks the two were sharing.

- Remus paused for a moment before turning back to James.

- “Someone who doesn’t care if I live or die, I guess.”

- With one last pointed look at Sirius, he pushed them off and exited the common room.

- Sirius could feel a tear drop roll down his cheek. 


I was feeling a little angsty … sorry D:

Here’s a silly one. Rank Katie’s roles in terms of hawtness (@rtracker).

Alrighty. This killed me, because personally, I would just choose them all. Can’t I just have them all??? It was almost as difficult as having to decide which character I would date (a high point in my life), so thanks for that! But first I had to consider my criteria for Maximum Hawtness™. It was necessary. I mean we all know Katie is gorgeous and hot af no matter what. So instead I had to consider things beyond Katie’s perfect face.

Sooo personal style, attitude, the way she carries herself, innocence vs. …naughtiness? Sauciness? Can that be a thing? Sure! Oh, and chemistry and interactions with other characters. That’s a big one. Leaving out the usual characters. So here is my list.

1. Kate Foster (But of course!)

Pretty sure a lot of you have seen me freak out about Kate. When it comes to judging hawtness, I am all for the sharp and pointy. When did the question of wanting fries cause anyone to become uncomfortably aroused?? When Kate Foster asked the question, that’s when! Kate is smooth, seductive and she spends pretty much her entire date with Erica looking like she is ready to rip her clothes of with her teeth. …Yeah that’s pretty hot. Bonus points for the lingering touches and the sex hair the morning after. #shooketh

2. Lena Luthor

Originally posted by luthorial

The perfect combination of sharp and pointy and soft and squishy. There is definitely something about her that has drawn so many in. The heart-eyes, the perfect buns, the eyebrows, the lip-bite, the red lipstick… Then there is the fact that she dresses like she’s on her way to view the next big line during fashion week (That Magenta Coat™ tho). Speaking of the lip biting, heart-eyes, and eyebrows, is it me or is Lena more flirty than pretty much all of Katie’s characters combined? Throw all of that on top of the fact that she is an angel and classy af and you can just consider me deceased.

Pssst. If you are for any reason interested in more of Katie being hot and/or my somewhat warranted opinion/endless thirst, keep reading! Ok let’s move on.

Keep reading

Title: The Haunting of Thomas Sanders
Warnings: Death talk, spirit talk, one cuss word
A/N: I had the revelation yesterday that if you abbreviated this story’s title, it’d be called THOTS and I’ve been laughing ever since

Pt 3

Beep, beep, beep!  

“Ughhhhh,” Thomas groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heal of one hand while the other flailed for his alarm clock’s off button.  “What a dream last night…” he grumbled to himself through his fingers, still rubbing the sleep off his face.  He then tried to sit up, fearing that he’d fall back asleep and revisit his “ghosts.”

……

He couldn’t get up…oh no.

“Morning, Sleepy Head.”

“Agh, Virgil!”  Thomas propelled himself into a sitting position, yanking his feet out from under Virgil, who’d been looming over top of him.  With a look at his clock, Thomas was fussing again.  “It’s 7 am, dude!  Did you change my alarm?!”

Keep reading

Jerome Valeska x Reader: Our Love

Originally posted by hellomadzstuff

a big thank you to my lovely friend @im-not-dead-but-i-should-be who made writing this story possible by helping me so much!

also idk  but it really took me long to write this and it’s so short….. omg kill me


‘Perfect. Fucking perfect.’

[Y/N] was going to be late. Thanks to her alarm. She knew that shit is going to broke sooner or later and she didn’t do anything about it.

She would’t even care but today was Monday and her first class on Monday was English.

She despised her English teacher. He was an asshole. Always making rude comments about her and the other girls.

‘[Y/L/N] why do you look so sad? Smile, kid! You look so pretty with that smile!’

‘[Y/LN] what’s with that stupid smile? You’re supposed to read something!’

He was so annoying.


[Y/N] realized she’s already late anyway, so why should she bother? She wanted to have a proper breakfast.

After doing her morning routine she grabbed a backpack, keys and left the apartment.

Ugh. It was snowing.  

As she peacefully walked on the iced streets of Gotham, she checked the time and she couldn’t believe herself. This is what you get when you “shouldn’t bother”.

[Y/N] was going to be late. Again. To her second class.

So she did the only think she could think of.

She ran.


When [Y/N]’s feet met the slippery bridge, she didn’t slow down. She knew it was very risky but she could’t be that late, she would be in trouble!

She thought she’s going to be just fine because she was already in the middle of the construction but oh boy, how naive she was.

Then she was running and now she wasn’t.

Her face was in the snow..

Yes, she slipped.

[Y/N] groaned and was about to start getting up but she heard a laugh.

Quite maniacal one.

It was a male, he sounded young. She didn’t want to see him, she was to ashamed to show him his face.

It was obvious that her fall looked hilarious but seriously, she could have hurt herself!

Now she was mad at this guy.

Still too embarrassed to get up though.

So poor [Y/N] laid there until she heard the person walking away still giggling a little.

‘Wow. What an asshole.’ She thought and finally stood up.


She arrived to school after her English class. She made it right on time.

At least she didn’t have to confront her teacher.


Classes passed by very quickly, thanks to [Y/N]’s five friends.

They were supposed to grab something to eat and go to the movies. [Y/N] loved cinema.

As the laughing pack left the building they heard an explosion and people screaming. Just around the corner.

“What was that?!”

“I don’t know, let’s check it out!”

‘Very fucking smart..’ Thought [Y/N] but didn’t say anything.

Now while walking in the direction of even louder screams she seriously wanted to say something. It really wasn’t a good idea to go there, now with everything happening with Jerome Valeska being alive and his cult–




–And the penny drops.

‘That laugh. It was him!’

When running people started to pass them by she stopped in her tracks.

“Okay guys, this is very stupid of us. We really shouldn–”

“My, my, what do we have here?” Somebody cut her off.

The group slowly turned around to meet Jerome Valeska, in the flesh, standing there and smiling madly at them.

‘Oh no…now we’re screwed’

As they stared at him, too afraid to run, a school bus pulled up.

Those lunatics. Those lunatics from his cult were in this bus. 

[Y/N] could’t take a good look from her position but it seemed like all of them were ugly men with clown make up on their faces, holding weapons. 

Jerome started to laugh darkly as he saw the fear in their eyes.

“Come on children, the bus is hereee! Now, get in or..” He targeted his gun at them.

“..die.”

Scared pack could only nod, expect [Y/N].

“Alrighty then…” She spoke, wanting to play it cool. She didn’t want to give him satisfaction of her shaking in fear.

All of her friends were already in the bus, probably sobbing and not knowing what to do.

[Y/N] really wanted to save her ass, so she started to think about the plan.

The moment she was about to step into the bus, passing Jerome, [Y/N] flirtatiously smiled at him, kinda praying he’s not gay. Her plan was to use her looks to save herself. She didn’t expect anything just yet, she didn’t even have a full plan, it was all so spontaneous.

When their eye contact broke she heard him say “C'mere, Angel.”

A little shocked [Y/N] skipped to him and gave him a small smile.

She felt him put an arm around her waist.

“We can’t let you fall and hurt yourself again, can we?”

Now she was sure it was him laughing at her earlier. Douchebag.

[Y/N] only nodded as she let him hold her waist and sensing him entering the bus right after her.

Then she felt somebody hitting her head with something hard and she fell straight on the bus floor knocked out.


“Rise and shine, Beautiful..” A hot breath on her ear was present as she started to wake up.

Her vision more clear now, so she could see she’s been lying on the hard floor, and noticed the Ginger hovering over her.

She whined because her head hurt like hell.

Jerome’s face softened as he caressed her cheek.

“I’m so sorry about it, Doll. That idiot who did that to you is already dead.”

He helped her to stand up and took her to another room of wherever they were.  

What [Y/N] saw before her was absolutely terrible. Her friends tied to the chairs, crying in pain. Three psychos torturing them.

When they saw Jerome coming in, they left the room one by one, still laughing.

“Alrighty!” He shouted smiling widely at her almost lifeless friends and then turned to [Y/N].

“Listen [Y/N]..” She wasn’t even surprised he knew her name.

“When I saw you for the first time.. I knew you were just like me. Different. What I’m saying is, join me. You can be my queen of hearts. Well, more like of my heart. I know you feel the same about me, Doll Face.”

Okay, this is crazy. [Y/N] wanted to play with his mind and make him think that she likes him because she wants to be alive. Nothing wrong with that.. but she wasn’t prepared for something like this, for God’s sake. It’s not her fault nobody ever loved Jerome this way. Or at all.

What is he gonna do to her friends?!

“What about my friends?”

“Thought you’re not gonna ask! That’s the funny part, Darling!”

“..What?”

“You’re going to kill ‘em! Bang! You don’t need ‘em do you?! I’m everything you need!”

[Y/N] forgot how to speak English. She started to pray this is all a cruel joke or better - a nightmare.

“Are you crazy?! I’m not doing this!”

“Yes. You. Are.” She could tell he was angry.

He pushed a gun into her hands.

“You’re doing this, Lovely. Now.”

She targeted the gun at them, shaking like mad. She didn’t want to do this.

“Pull the trigger.” He hissed.

Too many emotions. [Y/N] was so nervous she started to sob, look on her friend’s faces not helping at all. Hopeless like they were expecting her to do it..

Now Jerome was seriously annoyed and bored.

“Guess I have to kill all of you now…”

He shot her friends in the head and dropped the gun. He took out his knife and just as he was about to hop in her way–


–There was a shot “GCPD! You’re surrounded!

And then she realized. She didn’t even flinch. She still had a gun pointed at their direction. She was too shocked to do anything.

This is so stupid.

So stupid.

“Amazing job, Honey!”

Oh no.

No.

Stupid.

He did it on purpose.


One month later, Arkham Asylum

‘’[Y/N]! How is my favourite inmate doing?” said Jerome, squeezing her hard.

She pushed him off and didn’t say anything.

“Awww, c’mon Baby, you can’t possibly be still mad at me? I did it for our love!”

Great. Now she was stuck with him in this crazy place.

At least they had their love.. Right?

Stranger Sex || Taehyung

Request - 1. hey i would like to request a taehyung x reader smut, a detailed smut..hihi where both of them are kind of stranger, may be in a police station or hospital but not  a club plz ☺️ and a rough smut with fluffy ending? thanks.. 

                2. 5,8 and 10 with taehyung, a fluffy rough smut ?? thanks            

Pairing - Kim Taehyung x Reader

Drabbles - 5. “Shut up and marry me.”
                  8. “More kisses please.”
                10. “Let me taste you.”

Genre - Smut

Summary - Just take the title literally.


You groaned as you felt the blanket getting pried off you and get thrown somewhere into the air, Jimin yelling at the top of his voice, ‘Y/N, get up!’ You tossed and turned, trying to get even a second of warmth but to no avail.

‘Jimin~’ You whined, your face dug deep into the pillow, muffling your voice, your one eye opened to glare at him. He smirked at you, as he stood at the foot of your bed, his hands propped up at each side of his waist.

'You’re really lonely, Y/N. And today, we end that.’ He announced and you felt your heart drop. He was probably going to set you up on a blind date, again. The last time he had tried that, the night ended in you emptying the contents of your wine glass onto your date as he was a kind of pervert you never knew could exist.

'But why? I’m happy being alone. Besides, I have you.’ You gave him a cheeky smile, which soon faltered as his gaze turned sharp, giving you a very disappointed look.

'I have a girlfriend whose needs I already tend to. I don’t want another one.’ He crossed his arms over his chest, and you huffed, knowing it was the end of the discussion.

You pushed yourself up, your hair haphazardly resting on your head, and your shoulders already slumping forward at the loss of balance.

Jimin held you up, him sighing in exasperation, 'C'mon now. I know you will enjoy today if you just come with me.’ He picked you up, and took you into the bathroom before placing your feet down and leaving to let you freshen up. Once you did, you came out, only to see your outfit already placed for you on the bed. You examined it, and then you noticed the combination of the pants and tank top; you were going to dance.


Jimin pulled you in to a room filled with people sweating, so much that you could feel the humidity in the air, you inwardly belching at the smell. You looked at the back of his head as he led you to a corner  'Why?’ You whispered, giving a betrayed look to him.

He stopped, only to have you bump lightly against his back, making you rub your nose. You looked down, as you played with your feet, before you heard Jimin saying out your name making you look back up. At the same time, he moved away, as he turned to look at you, to reveal the person he was talking to.

'Y/N, this is Kim Taehyung. He is the dance instructor here…’ and after that, you heard nothing as your surroundings completely melted away, only the man, or to mention, the dangerously charming man stood in front of you. That’s it, you decided, Kim Taehyung in a white sweatshirt with a slit near the collar and baggy pants was your new aesthetic.

'Y/N?’ You felt a hand shake your shoulder, making you come into your senses, your face flushing as you noticed you had been staring at the dance instructor the entire time Jimin was talking.

'Yeah, um- sorry..’ You looked away, flustered, the boys chuckling at you.

'It’s alright, it happens.’ Taehyung smiled adorably at you and you widened your eyes: Oh my god, you internally screamed, his voice!

You laughed your embarrassment away as you tucked a stray strand of hair behind you ear. You couldn’t lie, he got you good.
You watched him stretch his hand and motion for somebody to come over. In seconds, a boy, not many years younger than you, ran over. Taehyung wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulder, his shoulder just millimeters below Taehyung’s. But instead of greeting him, you began chanting a mantra in your head: Please don’t be gay, please don’t be gay, please-

'Y/N, meet my younger brother, Jungkook.’ Jungkook smiled at you cutely, his nose wrinkling as he stretched a hand towards you, 'Hi, Y/N!’

You let out a long breath, 'Hello,’ You replied, shaking his hand. Internally rejoicing, you loved how both the brothers had killer looks.

As the ice breaking session slowly turned to secret messages sent by eye contact between you and Taehyung, Jimin decided to let you two talk, making sure to send a wink to your direction before leaving.

'So, have you danced before?’ Taehyung’s voice immediately sounded the moment Jimin had left. You giggled, 'No. Well, I learn what Jimin choreographs every now and then, but I wouldn’t call myself a dancer.’ You said genuinely. His lips stay curled into a sweet smile but you couldn’t help but take notice of the mischievous glint he held in his brown orbs.

'Would you care to join…personal sessions- if you are interested, that is.’ Your eyes widened slightly as he mentioned 'personal sessions’, your mind wandering to all kinds of personal things.

'And how specifically ‘personal’ are we talking here?’ You challenged him, your posture changing. He took notice and took a step forward, extending a hand in front of you which you gladly accepted and the other around your waist, as he looked around, 'We can decide that right now if you want. And begin today maybe?’ He looked down at you with a playful smile, as he glided along with you around the room, catching everybody’s eye.

The room soon erupted in cheers as you danced with him to the song that blared through the speakers. You barely had to move, as Taehyung was doing that for you, his hands either pushing your waist gently to the gradually changing bass of the music, or pulling you close, your bodies sensually inter wined in a lovely Kizomba dance.

'Should I take you grinding against me, as a yes then?’ He whispered seductively into your ear, and it took you all your will power to not pull him out of the room and into somewhere secluded.

'Well, how do I know that once everybody’s gone, you’re not going to just rape me and leave me to die?’ You asked, as he pushed you away from his body to let you twirl, him laughing at your question, before he held you again, his lips next to your ear, 'You have a very…active imagination, Kitten.’

You let your body drop into his hand, as he dipped you to the floor and brought you back up with enough force that your lips almost touched, 'You are a stranger after all,’ You breathed onto his lips and he smirked.

'That’s what makes it, all the more fun.’ He moved his hand which was on your back, so that it rested right above your ass.

'Consider it done then.’ You told him, and he let you dip one last time, before bringing you back close to his body, both of your breathing in sync and labored as the room erupted in loud cheers and claps.


'That was very interesting to watch, Y/N.’ Jimin remarked as you stood next to him, packing your bag. You laughed, 'It’s going to get even more interesting later.’ You winked at him, and he raised an amused eyebrow.

'What are you talking about?’ He asked you, and you couldn’t help but let out a cheery laugh at his expression.

'I won’t be coming with you tonight. I have other…plans.’ You flashed an embarrassed smile and it took a few seconds before it clicked to Jimin. He laughed, his hand covering his mouth in an attempt to shush himself.

As you walked Jimin to the door, he leaned in to your ear, 'Make sure you use protection, alright?’ He joked, and ran out the door before you had the chance to smack his arm. The last one to leave was Jungkook, who (surprisingly) had a date to not be late to.

'Don’t break anything!’ Jungkook yelled loudly, making you blush and Taehyung chuckle, before leaving. You turned around to see Taehyung already staring at you, biting his lip as he kept watching you.

'Are you going to do something about that, or should I help you?’ You pointed at the tent that had already begun to form under his pants, him doing absolutely nothing to hide it.

'Why don’t you come over here, love.’ Just then, a song began playing, which you identified as Gangtsa by Kehlani. Smart choice.

As you took steps closer to him, he mirrored you, until you both had come to the center of the room, your bodies still inches away. He stared at your lips with hunger, as you stared back at his.

His hand snaked around your waist, tugging you closer, your hips attached to his as he leaned in, but did not close the gap between your lips.

Let me taste you,’ You brought your hand up to his face, tracing his hairline from his ear to his jawline, before trailing to his lips which parted beautifully, as his bulge pressed against your thigh, begging for attention.

You closed the distance between the two of you, your lips molding in a hot, sensual kiss as he let his hand dig into the skin under your tank top at your waist. Your hand which had reached the back of his head, tugged at the brown locks, making him groan into your mouth as you took his bottom lip in between your teeth.

You noticed the table behind him, and an idea lit in your head. You brought your hands to his chest, before pushing him backwards, you keeping an arm’s distance between both your bodies while he let you guide him towards the table.

The moment the back of his thighs touched the furniture, he spun you around, and picked you up, placing you on the table, the swift movement surprising you, a gasp leaving your lips. He put his palms against your ass, pulling you forward, letting you feel his bulge right at the spot, making you let out a soft moan at the friction he had caused.

He leaned in, but did not kiss you, instead, delved into the nape of your neck, attacking the skin with suction and open mouthed kisses, as his eyes went to the mirror, portraying your back. He pulled away, and immediately reached for the hem of your tank top, you getting rid of your sports bra with slight difficulty.

'Eager, are we?’ He teased, but he had to let his eyes roam the perfect view your bare chest gave him. He let out a hiss, as he felt your hand boldly palming him through the pants, making him almost rip it away. He stood in his boxers, as he smiled sheepishly at you, you giving it a glance before looking back at him with an amused look.

'You love Eevee a lot, huh?’ You chuckled, referring to the pokémon printed on his boxers.

'Everybody has a fetish, okay?’ He placed his hand at your neck, wrapping it gently before leaning and kissing your swollen lips. His hand went to the back of your neck, his head angling to deepen the kiss, his tongue ravaging in your mouth, you letting him take the win.

His hand roamed your body, his slender fingers taking possession of your pink bud, before giving it a light squeeze and pulling it, a moan erupting from your throat in response. He pulled you closer and you leaned backwards, giving him more access to your chest, his mouth placing wet kisses all around your breasts, and in between them before kneeling down to reach in between your thighs. He pulled your pants down with so much force you thought they had torn.

You rested on your elbows, although it pained you, the amount of pleasure he let course through your body was nothing compared to the pain as his teeth nipped at the skin inside your thighs. He placed a chaste kiss on your clit before running his tongue the whole length of your sex, one of your hands going to his hair.

Your moans become louder as his tongue increased the pace, it beginning to flick your clit as you felt the familiar knot forming in your stomach, his finger making its way inside you.

As he scissored you, and stimulated your clit at the same time, you felt your body shaking as your orgasm came close, 'Tae-’

'Come for me, baby girl.’ He let you know, and you clenched around his fingers before waves of pleasure crashed inside you, making you let out a long moan, his name coming along with it.

But he didn’t stop. He got up, and brought his finger up to his mouth, his lips wrapping around them, sucking your remnants: a sight to behold. He hummed in acknowledgment, 'You taste exotic, Y/N..’

His finger found your clit, making you jolt backwards at the sudden sensation, 'Tae- too- too much- ah!’ You groaned as he rubbed agonizingly slow circles against your clit, your legs already beginning to shake at the over stimulation. You heard him click his tongue, 'Ah, you can do much better than this, Kitten. Trust me~’ He sang, before pulling his boxers down, his erection springing free.

You closed your eyes instantly as you felt his tip kiss your entrance, your heart fluttering yet your core dripping with anticipation. He teased you, his fingers still moving in a slow pace, as he remained arrogant and oblivious to your need.

'Taehyung please-’ He leaned forward and placed a peck on your lips.

'Hmm?’ He let out a deep chuckle, finding your current situation very enlightening.

'Please what, baby?’ He asked and you didn’t care if you were begging or not, because at this point, you just wanted him inside you.

You opened your eyes briefly, but just enough to let you see him clearly and him you, 'Fuck me, Taehyung.’ You said as you made a mental note to thank Jimin later.

His eyes widened, and the way you had just asked him to fuck you, he was too turned on by it, to the point where he questioned himself if he was having a horny dream or not.

'Shit.’ He cursed, before slamming into you, both of you groaning at the sensation. He didn’t let you adjust to his size, before he began pounding into you mercilessly, the room echoing with the sound of his skin slapping yours.

You wrapped your legs tight around his waist, as his fingers began moving faster against your clit, his other hand holding your wrists above your head.
He closed the gap between you, taking your lips in an open mouthed kiss. He pulled away and gave you a smile, which had you melting into the table, ’More-fuck -kisses please.’ You grunted and he laughed before complying to your request.

He came back up, letting go of your wrists as he felt himself come close with you, 'Come here,’ He took your hand and helped you stand on the floor, turning you around so you were facing the mirror.

'Can you see?’ He whispered, bringing his member back to your entrance.

'Perfectly.’ You stared at him, as he let himself enter you, his eyes staring with more intensity at you.

He pounded into you again, the knot forming in your stomach, as your second orgasm approached. You leaned against the table more, your elbows almost touching the surface, as you felt him graze your sweet spot inside you, making you push your hips back into his.

'Ah, fuck, baby, you feel so good around me.’ He grunted as his hand came up before colliding flush against your cheek, a pang of pain making it’s way up your spine, turning into pleasure mid way, you responding with a whimper.

You felt his thrusts get untimely and irregular, as you clenched yourself around his member, his hands groping at your cheeks, exchanging gazes between watching you on the mirror and his member getting in and out of you.

He groaned, as he released inside you, you coming not long after. You clenched yourself around him again before your voice turned to hitched breaths. He pulled out of you, him catching your waist as your legs gave up under your weight. He helped you sit on the table again, as he brought your body closer to his in a sweaty embrace.

'I may not be a good dancer but-’ You started, and he pulled away before placing a peck on your lips, his eyes lighting up with mirth, ’Shut up and marry me already.’


Originally posted by jimin-bts-trashs

An Essay about LGBTQ+ representation and art, tied up with a bit of a tribute to Stephanie Rice.

I haven’t written something like this in quite a while. But I’ve been thinking a lot this past month about stories (even more than usual). So please be patient with all the caffeinated rambling I have to do here. 

Needing to tell stories is something I have always known. There’s not a point in my life that I can look back on and not find in my younger self the intense will to put words and worlds, experiences and characters on paper. I’m sure this is a thing many artists and storytellers would say about their own lives. It’s the heart hammering, hand shaking need to find an outlet for experiences, passion, compassion and emotion that answers every “how did you know you wanted to do this” question with a “because I had to.”

Being gay is something that I haven’t always known. And yes, I can look back on my life and point to moments and insecurities and road bumps that came from having always been gay. But I haven’t always known. Knowing came later. Knowing came with combined fear and confidence and the ability to eventually shatter the brick walls I’d built to hold my shoulders upright, in order to look at myself more clearly. And then I knew, and now it’s as though I always have.

I spend a lot of time thinking about my experience coming out and the experiences of other LGBT people around me, and young kids who have come out and are coming out every day, either in quiet moments to themselves, or in one big fight with their families, or again and again each day to that Uber driver or that woman next to you on the plane, or your hair dresser who always asks who you’re dating. I spend a lot of time thinking about how that experience can be made easier, how kids can be received with more love, how we can better learn who we are before the years of self doubt. And no matter how much I think about anything, I am almost always brought back to the same two ways to fix anything. 1. Through giving and compassion and 2. Through art and stories. 

With each generation in the LGBTQ community, the groundwork is laid for the ones that follow. From fighting for our right to live and be seen, to demonstrating that we’re just like everyone else, the generations before mine have laid a foundation that I am fortunate and humbled to stand on. In that light, I really and truly believe that it will be my generation that brings us alive, as a community, through art, that tells stories and writes songs so that generations after us can see themselves a little sooner, can look up to more than just a handful of queer artists, can grow up knowing and with families who know that there is no one normal, no cookie cutter sexuality, no right experience. 

I have few memories of experiencing media that was specifically gay, growing up. But one of the clearest I do have is watching Pretty Little Liars with my mom. I grew up in liberal Massachusetts, outside Boston with loving, accepting parents. Even still, I can vividly remember a time when Emily, a then high school student on the show kissed her girlfriend and my mother explained that she just “didn’t like to see it” that it was fine and she had “nothing against it” but “she’s just a little girl” and she didn’t want to think about it. I’m sure my mom’s response wasn’t different from many others. So often, the world is okay with kids being queer but not okay with showing them a world of experiences like theirs beforehand. My mom is one of the most loving people I know and I tell this story with a fondness. She’s always been accepting of who I am. I’ve always been safe and supported. There’s a chance she doesn’t even remember this moment because she loves me for who I am. But when all is said and done those moments happen all the time and they pile up and they mean something. They mean something because there are young kids, across the country, across the world, in less loving houses, with less accepting parents, who don’t have the word for what they feel for years and years, who are sheltered from seeing Emily Fields kiss girls on TV, who watch their parents turn off movies if two boys are in love. Those kids hear song after song on the radio where girls sing about boys and boys sing about girls. They’re raised on fairytales and animated films about Princesses who marry Princes or don’t marry at all. They flounder, they search, they look for themselves here and there and everywhere and they come up empty handed. They come up with one song by a niche band that no one else listens to, or one sad lifetime movie about a woman’s dead gay son, or one lesbian on a TV show who inevitably ends up dead. 

It’s my understanding that art is never meaningless. That culture and stories are what shape who we are, our worldview, our communities. It’s my understanding that when we diversify those stories we begin to change the world, stone by stone, kid by kid. 

Often, I hear other LGBTQ people talk about not wanting to be defined by being gay or bi or trans. But the more I grapple with it and the more I exist in this world, living in LA, working in television, fighting for my chance to tell stories, the more I want to scream it. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. Because maybe if I yell it loud enough some kid will hear it and say “hey me too.” Because maybe if I pour that pride and pain and passion into my art it will reach their television some day, their home, their couch, and even if it doesn’t change their dad’s mind, it might make them feel less alone or give them the right words for the pain and passion that they feel. 

I never watched The Voice before last year. I turned on season 11, at random, because I wanted to watch Alicia Keys be a coach. At some point, I stopped. It was fun but these aren’t the kind of shows that feel like they’re for me. They feel like they’re for corn fed, middle America, fighting over this pleasant looking man or that palatable country singer. And while I’m a creative who appreciates the rise and fall and hopes and dreams of other creatives as stories, these weren’t ones I was ever invested in. This year, I again turned the show on to watch season 12. Only to watch the auditions because those are fun and I get one more season with Alicia Keys. I remember the moment the show played Stephanie Rice’s backstory. I was watching it with one of my good friends. I remember we both perked up a little more when we saw her holding hands with her fiancée. I remember watching in an odd, baited breath silence as Stephanie began to tell her story and finding myself choking up just a little. For me, that emotional choked up feeling came from hearing things that I recognized, from watching her talk about the fear of disappointing her little sisters and knowing that exact same fear, to the same hands shaking, heart in your throat need to prove it’s alright, to make your way, to have your voice heard. Even as a person who has been out for years, an adult who is comfortable and confident in my sexuality, that feeling is still there. And as I watched it and watched her speak her truth and kiss another girl back stage I was reminded again that some kid, somewhere on a couch was going to see this, and feel that reliability, and feel seen and understood and not alone. I was driven again to keep fighting to tell my own stories.

There is something significant about pain and diversity and art that isn’t discussed enough. Art is universal and can be interpreted and understood and seen and heard and felt by anyone. But there is a rare and often overlooked feeling that comes when art feels like it understands you. When someone says words or shows an emotion that you can put your finger on and say you’ve felt. I stuck with the Voice after that. I watched specifically to follow Stephanie’s journey. For one, because she’s an incredibly talented artist, and for two, because I have a distinct understanding of how much harder that fight to make your way is.

Just a few nights ago I was driving, after my last day at my job in the Shannara Season 2 Writers Room, at about midnight down the freeway, and I was loudly singing along to Stevie Nicks with my windows down. On my reverse alphabetical order by artist itunes library, Stephanie Rice’s cover of White Flag comes right after Stevie Nicks’s Edge of Seventeen. So I’m driving and I’m singing and I know every damn word to Dido’s White Flag because I’ve heard it a hundred thousand times before and it was never even a song I cared about or liked. But I hadn’t heard this version that many times. Here I am, twenty-six years old, yelling at top volume in my car feeling my head get sort of swallowed and overcome and numbed by emotion as I do. Because when another gay woman sang that song, it changed. Because when another person fighting and dying to get their pain and emotion out of their chest sang that song, it changed. Because the emotion she sang with is emotion I know. Because suddenly yelling that I wouldn’t put my hands up and surrender became about something different. I can’t tell you what someone else meant by their song or their voice or their story. But I can tell you how it touched me personally. And I grinned like a damn idiot in my car because I felt a little stronger and a little prouder. 

I’m in the process of writing a feature/novel package with the brilliant Dawson Schachter. It’s a romance between two women. And as we work on it we keep having to remind ourselves of the reality that these stories don’t get told often, that the market for them is smaller, that they have to be palatable to the big wigs that will look at them. And that is infuriating and compromising and fucks with every better angel and creative demon you have, let me tell you. That’s the ugly part people don’t talk about. That’s the reality of being an LGBTQ creator. Being too gay or too different or not gay enough, not sensational enough, being martyred to your community when you would love just a little less pressure today, knowing the pressure is the only way, being brave because anything else has never even been an option you were given, feeling like failure means letting down that kid who needs this story, feeling like it means letting down the kid in you who needed this story and now just needs to get it out. But I also know how inspiring all those feelings can be and how it can feel like singing along at brain numbing volume to White Flag with your windows down going 90 on a freeway at midnight in Los Angeles far away from your home and your family. 

To Stephanie Rice, thank you. With as much weight as I can put in those two words, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for so bravely sharing your story and your art with America. Your vulnerability and light brought a story to televisions across this country that people need. And despite that particular journey wrapping up last night, I have no doubts that you will go on to keep sharing your soul through your music. As a fellow woman, as a fellow storyteller, you reminded me why I’m doing what I’m doing and I am so grateful to have gotten to hear your truth. You have a friend and supporter in Los Angeles if ever you need one. I look forward to hearing everything else you have to tell the world. 

To anyone else reading this, my friends, young LGBTQ followers, fellow writers, coworkers, strangers consider this very long ramble a plea for you to continue to back and support LGBTQ artists and youth. Continue to lend them platforms and elevate their voices. Continue to diversify the stories you tell, paint televisions and movies and the radio with kids that look like them, that sound like them, that feel like them. And please, also consider this very long ramble, another in a pile of promises I’ve already made to you, that I will never stop doing everything I can to illuminate your hearts and your souls and your stories. If I have to scream them or deliver them from the ground with bloody knuckles, I will make them heard. I hope that together, we can continue to build a foundation for generations after us, through art where exposure has opened hearts and minds, where stories have saved lives, and art has changed the world. We fight, as we always have, for a better, louder, prouder, safer, and more inclusive future.