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#and gay fanfiction lol
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Shout out to all the fanfic authors out there. You’re the reason I even vaguely resemble a functional human being
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rainbowbutterfly26 · 5 months
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Friend: I saw this 20-somthing year-old guy kissing this 50 year old woman! It was so gross! Like ew!
Me: ... uh...
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... ya...
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... that would be...
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... just awful
😍😅😅
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vanillafantasy01 · 7 months
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Lunch Break | Steve Harrington | Male Reader | Lemon
"Your pullout game is weak." - R
"Then you must like being filled if you're still with me >:)" - S
TW: Bottom Male Reader, Gay Smut, Fingering, Hand job, Sub Domination, Reader Gets Turned Into an absolute Fuck Doll [I think...] 🙈 - MDNI
I had a little too much fun with this one y'all, how did I even get to 4k!? 💀🖐🏾 I wanted to make this a little extra kinky by making Steve into a college professor. I hope none of my classmates find out about this. Like I seriously don't know what possessed me to write this LOL
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It was mid-break when it happened. Steve had come out of nowhere and latched onto your wrist with such suddenness and force that it had momentarily petrified you, refusing to answer any questions of concern you threw at him. He was actively ignoring you while dragging you to who knows where, and it didn't help that his expression throughout the course was fixed into something severe. It was as if he was mad…annoyed, even.
You're jolted to a stop when Steve abruptly halts ahead of you, seemingly forgetting that you were trailing directly behind him and stopping squarely in front of a… the Janitor's closet? The thickness of his back collides painfully with the tip of your nose as a result, and you grunt in response. Steve doesn't apologize, though. Instead, he opens the door with one swift motion and hastily ushers you into the room before following closely behind himself.
It was dark and musky, the limited source of light penetrating the room's gloom, barely allowing you the necessary rays to make out the general build of it. It was small, and very much so; you and Steve squashed against each other to secure a spot in the room. And as expected, it's filled with brooms and mops of varying sizes and colors.
You're broken out of your thoughts when Steve harshly pins you up against the wall, the unforgiving weight of his body not allowing you any leeway to squirm. A frown still sits upon the frail lips of his face, the ends of his eyes slightly downcast to give off a disapproving look. The room was small, so Steve was practically on top of you to fit in. It made you acutely aware of his overall presence.
He moves his head to rest his chin gently on your shoulder, still frowning as he cradles his jaw into the vulnerable crook of your neck. He stays there for a good minute or two, breathing in and out on your collarbone, and only dares to stop when he gathers the will to speak.
"Sending me nudes during class is too much of a tease, don't you think?"
He licks at the brittle base of your neck while saying this, fondly kissing at and nibbling on your external jugular vein. "Someone could have seen…"
Steve was very possessive when it came to you. A secret he failed dramatically at keeping subtle, despite his best efforts. Leaving countless hickeys on you was his way of laying claim and always being present. The location of his marks would vary on how jealous he was feeling at the moment, more often than not done in random and manageable areas, something you could make do with by simply wearing clothes leaning more towards the baggy and conventional side. Albeit on days he exceptionally felt jealous, they were done in harder-to-cover-up regions, meant to ward off the lingering men that would shamelessly eye fuck you. You would often have to wear turtlenecks when going out because of how frequently he would leave bruises on you, mainly when it came to school. To plainly say he liked marking you would be an understatement with the undivided way he would indulge in it. It was a necessity for him, vamping you. It gave him a sense of undeniable ownership over you.
And truthfully, in a way, he did. The fact that you were cramped into a tight locker on the school ground making out with him and gave little to no fuck was proof. But it wasn't because you were unbothered by the current location and situation you and Steve were in, but rather because it was a losing battle. Steve's pampering was slowly swaying the best out of you, and your desire for submission was beginning to tip the scales, slowly but surely overpowering your morals and standards. Your body was craving him — needed him, and it was starting to fog your reasoning.
Steve parts from your neck to focus on playing with your right helix instead. The sly sensation of his callous left hand snaking beneath your shirt in a slow, tantalizing descent sends sparks running down your spine. He breaches the back of your pants with one swift movement and catches you off guard by cupping the fullness of your ass with such force that it makes your breath hitch. However, he doesn't just stop there, quickly following up on his advance by longingly dry-humping against you. His pants were still on, but even then, you could feel the eager way his dick pulsed against your erection as he continued to grind into you, the receiving pleasure muted from the thin layers of fabric tightly keeping his cock from being out and exposed. But Steve doesn't bat an eye at that. He just wanted to feel you on him—to feel you squirming against his cock. And luckily for him, that is just what you do.
A minute or two passes by with him just desperately rutting against your pelvis and you lewdly pushing back against him to help him attain that euphoric friction he was no doubt chasing. Your bodies were moving on their own, taken over by lust. Everything you did was done subconsciously, and you wanted to tell him to stop. To disclose that someone could walk past and hear what the both of you were doing at any given minute, that you could get into serious trouble for what you were doing, and who you were doing it with— but the tightness of his pants as he forced his bulge against you had you involuntarily rocking your hips back instead, your mouths sealed shut… A losing battle.
"St-steve." You can't help but moan.
Your hands reach to entangle your fingers into his hair, and you pull it hard enough to spur him into action, groaning. Steve temporarily breaks from you and leaves you high to quickly fight with his zipper, the aching throb of his sleuth encouraging his hands to go faster.
And sure enough, this time around, when he presses into you, something objectively bigger, pointier, and warmer pokes into the right side of your abdomen, crushed sorely between the sweaty heat of your pressed bodies when Steve retakes his position against you to capture your lips. He moans and humps the soft cup of your palm when you deftly maneuver your hand in between you to take hold of his dick, proudly smirking when you feel Steve shiver against you at your touch.
"…Please…" His voice breaks. "…I need you."
The raw adrenalin and rage of hormones coursing through you only make it possible for you to manage a meager nod in response, your mind stunted and overwhelmed. You couldn't think — at least, you didn't want to. You only wanted Steve, and you wanted him deep inside of you.
Your prayers are answered when Steve pins you harder against the wall by fully pressing the rest of his weight onto you, using the fact that his left hand was already in your pants to gently prod at your hole with the slender tip of his finger — circling, tapping, and rubbing at it through the thin fabric of your brief. You close your eyes. He was being a tease.
You can't say that to your surprise. Steve has always been hellbent on breaking you to the right amount of desperation, knowing that it would be far easier to make you give in to his whims if your needs were taunted, just one "please" away from being met. He would also bask in the way your face would crumble with utter bliss every time you were finally given what your body yearned for… Him.
The motion of Steve's hand snaking up to grasp at your chin forces your eyes back open, and nothing but the image of a devious smirk and a dangerous pair of promiscuously starved eyes invades your line of sight. He stands there, frozen, unfazed by the desperate way your body uncomfortably twined against him at the sudden lack of action. If it weren't for the eager way his dick throbbed against your stomach, you would have thought him frozen.
But no.
That wasn't it.
Steve was actively refusing to give you any more pleasure. "Steve-" 
"No."
"But-"
"Wait."
His voice is stern and quick, coming off as raunchy, and it doesn't take long for your brain to register the sinister way he looks at you. It was as if you were prey — something small and vulnerable caught readily in the sharpened claws of an apex predator… Him.
You knew that look, that bubbling rise of primalness in his eyes. The instinct to dominate whatever was in front of him lurking closely underneath. A look he gave you specifically when something especially vindictive came to mind.
Your thoughts are confirmed when Steve releases his body pressure off you with one sudden movement and takes a step back to lean on the door, his middle finger stuck out and leveled perfectly with his hip, aligned suggestively beside his dick. It mimics the latter in the defiant way it points directly at you, and Steve is quick to stop any confusion. He smirks.
"You want me in you… right?" He taunts, his eyes gleaming with mischief when you nod back at him. "…Then work for it."
It takes you a moment to fully register his demand, your eyes blown semi-wide and fixated on the crooked smirk drawing the bruised red of his lips. You don't move or say anything, and Steve only arches a brow in response. Your brain was telling you that this was all just a game, that Steve would blow his facade and burst out chuckling any minute now, saying sike and that he was only messing with you. Steve doesn't move, not even in the slightest…He was dead serious.
You take the two steps necessary to close the distance between you, trying your best to divert your gaze from him to avoid staring him dead in the eye, not wanting to see the smug expression that was, no doubt, gracing his face at your show of submission. Steve had an ego—and one that helped him considerably when it came time to take the lead as the dominant role in bed; something he took to quite effortlessly, might you add, and has been confident and comfortable with ordering you around in and out of your sex life ever since.
Steve chuckles softly when you come to a stop and finally gather the will to look up at him, his eyes gleaming expectantly for the entire duration of you trying to awkwardly shift yourself around the room to fix yourself in front of his body. Your back was faced toward him with your butt licentiously perked out for access, and Steve bites his lip at the sight of it. He was struggling to keep himself from pouncing on you.
You slowly lower yourself onto him, and your legs quake with such density that they threaten to give out right beneath you. You could practically feel the arrogance rolling off of Steve in waves, his fiery gaze burning into the tender skin of your neck from behind, ablaze from the vulnerable way your body reacted to him. It intensifies more when you unintentionally let a moan slip.
"You're going to have to go faster than that if you don't want somebody to catch us." He taunts, moving from his resting spot on your shoulder to nibble on your right helix.
You remind yourself that you're in a literal closet to refrain from cursing him out of embarrassment, choosing to use the little rational thinking you have left to grit your teeth instead. "…Shut up, Steve…"
Steve grins almost devilishly at your demand, and goosebumps emerge on your skin.
"Should you really be talking like that to someone who has you at their mercy?" He questions, leaning into the curve of your back to rest his chin on your shoulder to whisper into your ear. "I could turn you into a bitch in heat with just the curl of my finger."
Steve carefully caresses your prostate to exaggerate his point, biting your collarbone at the crumble of your expression. You were depriving him of the heavenly satisfaction of hearing you moan by trying to stay quiet, and he was slowly starting to disapprove of that.
He liked it when you were vocal. It was an indirect say to how good he was when it came down to pleasuring you, something he took immense pride in. Steve wanted to hear you moan his name—to see you on your knees, begging him to take charge of you.
But you were too shy when it came to sex for that. At least when you still had your sanity. Steve knew all he had to do to bring out that lewd side of you was to tease your limited patience until you eventually grew frustrated enough to take matters into your own hands. You just needed a proper push. One strong enough to have your guard break and have you moaning his name with no care in the world. You were too occupied mentally with the fact that you were in school, making you tense and dramatically stunting your performance.
Steve pulls his middle finger out of you to clump it with his index and ring fingers before collectively spitting on all three of them, not wanting to risk chafing you. It goes without saying that when he retires to re-penetrate you, the doubling of size stops him from sliding in effortlessly, that blissful pressure on your sphincter increasing. Fuck. It was taking everything within him to stop himself from ravishing you. He wanted to take things slow by steadily easing you into it, not wanting to scare you. But you were making it hard with the uncontrollable way you continued to quiver all cute against him, and his body was starting to get impatient with the lack of attention on his part, his dick throbbing poorly for action.
He takes his frustration out on your neck instead, trailing the thick of it and going down to its base while leaving hickey after hickey on his heated expedition to your collarbone, gently nicking it with his teeth.
"You'll have to stretch yourself out more than that if you ever want to take me." Steve mocks.
And as much as you hated to admit it, he was right. You had barely gotten much down with just his middle finger, more focused on the pleasure it was providing you rather than using it to open yourself up to accommodate Steve.
You steadily ease your body onto the clump of his fingers while trying your best to suppress your moans and gradually allow all three of his digits to pierce the defensive tautness of your hole. Another groan rips its way out of your throat when you feel Steve's fingers buck against your prostate, making him smirk. It was getting more difficult for you to control your urges and moans, your body slowly releasing the tension that had you tense and stuck up in the first place, getting more reckless by the second. Steve enjoyed every second of it— of you.
It wouldn't be long before you would be on your knees begging for him to break you in. Something he thought well deserved of you. Especially after how shamelessly distracting you had been in class, sending him nude after nude and tauntingly smirking at him while sitting and doing suggestive things when his eyes would temporarily catch yours. He would have gotten in trouble for the bulge you provoked if it wasn't for the thick fabric of his jeans.
Steve takes his unoccupied hand to dearly caress your jaw before gently kissing it, only daring to remove his lips when he uses his grip on your chin to bring your head closer to his. His lips find solace on yours with such assertion that it rivals that of a snake coiled to prance. His tongue laps and tangles with yours, the both of your spit intermingling at the ball of your tongues. And as much as he wanted to, Steve didn't take over. Not yet. You weren't ready yet. He plays the field justly, trying to avoid overpowering you with his tongue's movements and striving to keep the power level even.
Steve parts from you with a heated breath, a single strand of spit connecting you as you melt into his embrace, your back still arched and with Steve's fingers enthusiastically exploring the depths of you. It was as if your body was limp and Steve was your support cane, your expression dazed and eyes thoughtlessly crinkled. Your mind was nothing but a complete maze of haze, and it took one look on Steve's part at them for him to know that you were finally ready.
His fingers depart from you with a sickening squelch to find comfort on either side of your hips, still slick. Now nothing was blocking him from being entirely flushed with you, and that meant his dick resting firmly on the plump top of your ass, his tip poking angrily into the arched curve of your back. Steve shudders when you grind back onto him, groans of approval leaving him to run several laps in your ears. His breath gradually ascends into something aggressive, becoming shallower and more inconsistent with each minute he anticipates being in you.
"Can I put it in...?" Steve growls, swallowing, the exposed veins along his body bulging appealingly as his chest heaves. His throat felt dry.
Steve's face was red, and evidently more so, his dick, the thirstful movement of his hands on your body evidence of him not being able to withstand another minute of not being in you. Steve grabs his dick and aligns it perfectly with your hole in one eager movement.
His tip prods your sphincter, his hand on your waist steadily easing you back into him. Steve wanted so desperately to be in you. So badly for the both of you to get lost and revel in the moment—the pleasure. He wanted to fuck you into oblivion. The feeling of your hand reaching in between your twined bodies and wrapping around him encourages a shock-like almost chill to shoot through his legs, and his hips subconsciously jerk forward. "Y/N... Please..."
The tip breaks the protective tightness of your hole with the first supported thrust of Steve's, and he has to plant his head in your neck to ground himself. You were tight; hot, the combination of both turning his brain to mush. It was almost pathetic how easily his body crumbled into submission the second he was within you.
Steve bites your nape when you finish inserting his dick, his toes curling in the confines of his shoes. "Fuck~"
The pleasure was immense—overwhelming with the degree of ecstasy that washed over him like tidal waves, lapping against his skin until they eventually crashed against the rocky shores of his consciousness. With that one slow thrust, everything was lost, and Steve found himself mentally fighting to refrain from reaching his all-time high. He couldn't come. Not after the big game he put up earlier.
He stays there for a minute or two, allowing you and him some time to adjust to the incinerating pleasure your bodies were simultaneously drunk off of. Steve only dares to move when he doesn't feel like one contraction on your part will make him prematurely ejaculate. It tears a trembling moan from you, and Steve uses it as an opportunity to slide both his middle and ring finger in your mouth, playing with your tongue by repetitively pulling and clasping at it, the spit backing up in your throat threatening to choke you ever now and then. Your brain teeters on the edge of going white, braindead—utterly blank from the restrictive breaths Steve's fingers were allowing you. It was already a mess—you were already a mess, and Steve's roaming hands were only making it worse. Steve doesn't stop though, seemingly unaware of this by the lustful way he continued to fuck into you. He was turning you into a sweaty, heated, quivering bitch-in-heat. It didn't help that his unyielding grip on your tongue was starting to make spit trail out from the right side of your mouth and pool at your collarbone.
You're allowed a break to breathe when Steve pulls out his fingers to grab at your waist, his dick still managing to pulse wildly within you despite the prolonged session it had to endure. He was breathing shallower, his pace shifting into something increasingly breathy with each thrust—heavy and inconsistent. His thrust faster, harder, and more erratic, Steve forces moan after moan out of you, his teeth breaking the feeble skin on your neck when he sinks his teeth into your nape.
The lewd sounds you were making were no doubt rebounding the school halls from the lascivious way it echoed the room you were in. If anything, you were practically a stereo on blast for all within range to hear. And at first, it was scary. You didn't want to get caught, not in such a scandalous position. Yet, all the same, you were stirred...exhilarated, almost. As much as the idea of getting caught terrified the living hell out of you, it was arousing you to limits you didn't even know were possible. It was as if the dread of getting caught was an unfaltering flame, the precariousness of your situation infinitely fuelling your lust. You wanted it—carved it, and that made you feel sick.
You're broken out of your thoughts with a harsh groan in your right ear from Steve and him cursing. Your back was still arched, your face tiredly plastered against the closet's wall. You can feel the tedious way Steve's muscles clench and unclench against you: his arms, his legs, his torso... his dick. He was going to cum.
"mm~ Wait- Steve~" You tried to warn, your voice slurred and your words broken. If he didn't stop ramming into you at the specific angle and stimulating your prostate, you were going to come all over the wall.
But Steve doesn't heed your warning, ignoring your plead altogether by brushing you off with another bite to your neck, just hard enough to leave another one of his marks behind. It seems to be the tipping point because not long after, you can feel something warm and slick shooting up into you, Steve groggily moaning in your right ear. He catches his breath by licking the swollen wound on your neck and nibbling on it, not making it long before you follow in his steps and ride a high of your own, coming yourself.
It makes Steve smirk in his resting position against you, his hands leaving your hips to tenderly rub at your arms, "We have 5 minutes until your next class..." Steve kisses you, "But we could skip it if you want to... I can see your legs trembling from here."
You try to retort, but your body is so tired that you can only grumble back at him in response, your mind focusing on one thing.
Steve came in you...
You lean back into him to catch your breath and playfully elbow him in the stomach when you do. "Your pullout game is weak."
But Steve smiles smugly at your attempt to belittle him and sets his chin on your shoulder to hover just off your ear. "Then you must like being filled if you're still with me."
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riviuus · 2 months
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i feelt like i am going back to my roots again
i am reading jegulus fanfiction for the first time
its just drarry...
its drarry in a diffrent font and so much hc that i dont even think you can classify it as a hp ff /j (the last part not the diffrent font)
yes i was a drarry kid and a golden trio fan i admit to these shames (even tho i did read wolfstar early on, back when their nicknames for each other were siri and remi) but i feel like i am thrown back again with jegulus
dont get me wrong, the fics are great and the characterisation is way better than those old drarry fics i used to read but you have to admit how similar it is
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eldritch-ambrosia · 7 days
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Hello, Merwaine fans, I come bearing gifts of an explicit Merwaine fic that includes a fake relationship, only one bed, and shameless smut! It is thanks to the Merwaine gif sets, character analysis, and fanart on here that pushed me deeper into the ship than I was before so thanks guys, hope you enjoy :)
The Wedding Knight
Rating: Explicit
An excerpt:
Like many times before when Gwaine’s gaze had pierced through him, he had to look away. Merlin forced a chuckle, turning to the spare clothes the innkeeper had left for him. “I’ll remember that when I’m cleaning their socks. I’m sure that… oh.”
His mouth went dry as he paused, stuck staring at the small vial that had been placed within the folded fabric, the glass cold in his hand.
“Well,” Gwaine said, amused and much closer than before, “that was rather kind of them, don’t you think?”
He spun around, finding himself inches away from the teasing grin of his companion who instantly reached out to take the glass between his fingers. Gwaine examined it closer, thumb running across the corked oil, his eyes eventually flitting back to Merlin’s.
“Guess we know why they put us in the farthest room down the hall,” he smirked. “Don’t want our ‘wedding night’ getting too rowdy now, do we?” 
“Seems like they’re encouraging it more than anything.” Merlin said, without thinking, stopping only to realize what he’d said when Gwaine’s smirk grew, the knight’s eyes casting over the now uneasy form in front of him.
“Cheeky.” 
~~~
Also, I love the blond bastard, but I didn’t put his name in this story a single time solely because I saw Merwaine fanart and someone commented asking where the prince was and I was like “I bet I could go a whole Merlin fic without saying his name.”
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thataaabattery · 6 months
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Renga HCs & more
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-Langa has a necklace from Reki with the infinity symbol and Reki has a bracelet with the same. -Langa likes to fidget with it as he goes about his day and so does Reki.
-Langa noticed Reki always ruining his hoodie strings and gifted Reki a chewable fidget necklace.
-Reki tends to fidget with Langa’s things- including his watch at lunch. Langa just finds it amusing and funny.
-Autistic Langa & Audhd or Adhd Reki
Impulsive oneshot kinda:
“Just a few words”
One day Langa stares intensely at Reki’s headband with curiosity, wanting to touch it. Reki knows he wants something just doesn’t know what. So, he has them stop their skating a moment to inquire. Langa replies in his quiet and usual tone, “I want to fidget with you.” Then, looks up from the skateboard. Reki’s face blooms red, “I-I mean if.. you’re sure?” He rubs his neck a bit in embarrassment. ‘Does he mean like play with my hair or fingers?’
Langa’s head tilts. ‘Reki always fidgets with my stuff, what’s different now? Is my Japanese incorrect? How could Reki misunderstand? And why is he so red?’
“I’m sure.” Langa replies, looking Reki in the eye, seeming to long for the headband like a lost puppy.
For Reki, who thought differently of Langa’s words, he blushes furiously before huffing, “Jeez, you’re so.. embarrassing about this stuff, dude.” Then shakes his head. Langa should just ask if he wanted to hug. Did he want to cuddle or something? Why is Reki the one who has to guess? “Fine. I guess.” He says, although his voice comes out far too soft.
Langa’s eyes light up as he steps forward. Reki lifts open his arms and closes his eyes… only to find that Langa while having stepped closer, now has his hands around Reki’s headband. ‘He isn’t..’
Reki is utterly embarrassed at this point and decides to push it off like he was stretching. But before he can do so, Langa wraps his arms around Reki in return, chuckling at the yawn Reki had let out.
“You’re so cute.” Langa says quietly. Reki let’s his head fall on to Langa’s chest to hide his blushing. “S-shut up.” This only furthers Langa in his quieted laughs.
Langa feels the texture of the headband, taking note of it’s softened edges. The design is stitched with patchwork so utterly Reki that he can’t help but smile at. He then wraps it around his wrist, feeling perfectly snug. A part of him wants to see how Reki would look with the headband pushing all the hair from his face but he doesn’t want to overwhelm Reki. ‘God. He’d be adorable.’
With Langa’s abrupt quietness, Reki ultimately get’s curious and looks up. To his surprise, Langa is smiling. A smile that feels like a rare bliss or treasure, especially when he knows it’s because of him.
Reki shifts his head back down as Langa’s chin falls to rest on Reki. They sink into each other’s warmth and comfort, hearts pounding in their ears. Langa strokes a hand through Reki’s hair, playing with it and feeling enamored by the curls and their softness.
“Thanks” Langa says softly while he looks down. Reki just nods, hiding his head in the other’s shoulder as they hug.
They stay like that a while, eventually sitting down next to each other before treating themselves to food. Reki demands Langa be more clear with his words in the future- which only serves to confuse Langa since he thought he’d been perfectly clear.
Reki just sighs, flicking Langa and calling him a hopeless idiot before going back to eat. As Reki stares off, Langa can’t help the small smile that graces his lips. He never knew he could create such warmth from a few words, let alone find himself living life this way.. happy and it was all because of Reki.
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She walked to the head of Max's bed, holding her hand and leaned in to give a kiss on her cheek. "I'll be back tomorrow, Max. I promise."
Eleven's heart seemed to stop for a moment, and she looked down at her hand in Max's. She furrowed her brow, trying to understand if the slight squeeze in her hand had really happened or if she was imagining things.
(...)
"I'm sure you would have liked it there. Mike said the house was practically destroyed by government agents after I got arrested. Oh, yeah, there's that. I got arrested, can you believe it?" Eleven laughed, imagining Max's reaction to this information. "They arrested me because I hit Angela." El shook her head. "But that's a story for another day."
Eleven's eyes widened, and she looked at her hand in Max's. She thought she felt a slight squeeze in her fingers, but it couldn't be, could it? She narrowed her eyes, focusing all her attention on their hands for minutes, but nothing happened.
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Sorry to the people who followed me for the explicit fanfic potential of shitposting about David Tennant and Michael Sheen’s Certified Heterosexual ® ✨ bromance ✨ but I’m not gonna shut the fuck up about how good the Wonka (2023) Timothy “Twink” Chamalet movie is for a bit. It’s the Taylor Swift of Roald Dahl adaptations
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hannahmanderr · 11 months
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DannyMay Day 5 - 10 min vs. 1 hour
Words (10 min): 259
Words (1 hour): 1613 (FFN)
Summary: They say your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. Dash discovers that his brain has other ideas - namely, focusing on his bisexual awakening (post-reveal Danny/Dash)
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~10 min.~
Dash thought dying would involve more reminiscing of his life. All those golden memories that flash before your eyes, like in the movies. His first touchdown, his first kiss, that sort of thing.
And yet as he plummeted towards the ground and time seemed to move in slow motion, he found himself annoyed. Of course he wouldn’t get to relive his life’s greatest hits.
Of course he’d be forced to think about the one person he didn’t want to think about, the person who was supposed to be saving him right now.
He hated the thrill that ran down his spine when he thought about that person swooping down, sweeping him up, and flying off with him into the sunset.
Stupid Fenton. Stupid wind-swept dark hair. Stupid endless blue eyes. 
Stupid bisexual awakening moments before death.
Dash closed his eyes. If he was going to die, he might as well just suck it up and face the music. At least then he could die knowing he wasn’t such a coward that he couldn’t finish what he’d started.
Alright Fenton, he thought to himself. You got me.
The ground was getting closer and closer now. He tried to ignore it.
Then, just seconds before impact, he was jolted to the side and he started falling sideways. No, wait. Not falling sideways.
Being carried.
“You’re an idiot, you know that, right Baxter?” Danny’s voice came through the rushing wind.
Dash could only nod mutely and wonder if his racing heart was because of the near-death experience or because of the rescue.
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~1 hour~
Look, no matter what anyone tries to claim, I wasn’t trying to fall off the building, alright? 
I mean it wasn’t even my idea to have the junior prom on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in Amity Park. I was only on the roof ‘cause that’s where prom was, end of story.
No, I wasn’t sloshed. And I wasn’t high either. I’m not an idiot; I’m not gonna do something that’s gonna get me kicked off the team. People just sometimes fall off of buildings, especially in cities that are literally haunted by ghosts.
God, I swear none of the teachers at Casper have a clue how to handle themselves and all of us around ghosts. Like come on, us students have been involved in way more ghost stuff. We saved all the adults that one time!
Ugh, whatever. Not important. The point is, I didn’t fall off the building on purpose. The ghost that came and crashed the prom just happened to fly right towards me. As I was just standing there, doing nothing. 
… near the edge of the roof.
It caught me by surprise, alright? Like it wouldn’t happen to anyone else. I’m the most athletic kid in school, if a ghost can knock me off my feet, it can happen to anyone.
So yeah, I was basically falling twenty-six stories at breakneck speed. 
Heh. Breakneck. You know, ‘cause landing on the ground would break my - you know what, forget it.
But yeah. Whoop-de-doo, this was how the King of Casper High goes, apparently. Being knocked off the building in a random ghost attack. During junior prom of all things.
Aw man, everyone was watching me, weren’t they? 
I saw a flash of light from back on top of the roof. Thank God, Fenton was finally getting up off his -
-
Nope. Nuh-uh. We aren’t going there, Baxter.
… oh, who was I kidding. If I was gonna die, I was gonna face it like a man. Face everything head on, you know? Especially ‘cause my life was definitely not flashing before my eyes. Which sucked. There would’ve been some memories I would’ve liked to revisit. Like when I scored my first ever touchdown. That was sweet! Or when I got my car and drove it for the first time. Or my first kiss - 
- argh, no! No, I was not gonna think about kissing, or think about Fenton, or think about his dark hair and how shiny it is, or think about that little face he makes when he’s excited about something, that one is so cu-
- I hate everything.
I hate this. I hated the fact that I was falling towards my certain death. I hated that I had been dumb enough to walk off and hang out towards the edge. I hated the fact that I was even at this lame prom in the first place. I hated that I hadn’t been able to come with the person I really wanted to come with.
I hated that the person I wanted to take to prom was freaking Danny Fenton.
There, alright? I admitted it. I could die happy. 
Except I wasn’t happy. It’s like whenever I think of him, my stomach does all these crazy flips and stuff like I see him doing in the sky all the time, and I can’t tell if it��s ‘cause I hate him or ‘cause I… ugh, don’t hate him. I’m not going any farther than that, nope.
It doesn’t help that it’s not easy to avoid thinking about him. He’s in the majority of my classes, and beyond that, his stupid face is plastered all over the city. Heck, I walk out my front door and there’s a huge billboard with, like, “HOME OF DANNY PHANTOM” written on it, right next to his picture.
It definitely doesn’t help that it’s a really good picture.
You know, shouldn’t he have been helping me? It wasn’t like him to just abandon a civvie like me to the wolves. The wolves in this case being the concrete that was approaching way too quickly for my liking.
It’s whatever. He’s gotta keep everyone else from falling off the roof too, I guess.
Didn’t keep my stomach from doing a freaking trapeze act when I thought about him swooping down and rescuing me. And then he’d look at me with those pretty green eyes and tell me I’m an idiot and I’d sit there and let him because he wouldn’t be wrong.
Yeah. Whatever at this point, right? Not like I’d be alive long enough to live it down, anyway.
I was the idiot in love with Fenton.
Does anyone else know? God, no. I have a rep to maintain, you know! It’s not easy being me. Like I could ever be seen crushing on a loser, whether that loser was a superhero or not.
I mean don’t get me wrong, they guys on the team are like, super chill. It’s not like I’m necessarily worried about them beating me up for liking a guy or anything, but come on. Hundreds of other guys at Casper High and I had to pick on the one guy that was the worst for me to crush on?
And to be honest, I didn’t really feel like trying to justify the fact that I’d gone out with a bunch of girls before. Again, most of the guys on the team aren’t homophobic or anything, but that doesn’t mean they understand everything, like the fact that bi people exist. Honestly, I bet most people think I don’t understand the fact that bi people exist.
Look, I might, ah, help loser-types understand their place, but I have standards. I’m not gonna be a weird bigot about it.
(Also that concrete was definitely getting closer, where the heck was Fenton?)
Except for some reason, even though I was admitting this to myself, I could hear Kwan’s voice in my head, telling me that I wasn’t being totally honest. Kwan, who would definitely be the last person I would think would suspect my secret.
Which probably meant the voice was right.
Okay, so I might, emphasis on might, be the teeniest bit nervous about approaching Fenton. Not scared! Dash Baxter doesn’t do scared. Just, uhh, a little antsy. Like how I get right before a game.
Argh, fine, a lot antsy.
It’s double stupid ‘cause I have no reason to be. He and Manson broke up like, only a couple months after the whole asteroid thing, and it somehow leaked that he swung both ways a little bit after that. He hasn’t gone out with anyone since, which is kind of surprising, really. I would’ve thought a superhero like him would’ve been snatched up right away. 
Especially with how I’ve heard other kids at Casper fawning over him. He’d have the lion’s share of potential partners.
… Oh my God, do not tell me this whole thing was some sort of inferiority complex on my part. I mean sure, I did beat up on him for the better part of middle school and our freshman year, but I stopped, and, again: I’m the King of Casper High. Who wouldn’t want to go out with me?
Apparently my subconscious has decided the one person who wouldn’t want to go out with me is the one person I want to go out with. 
Well, no sense in worrying about it. The ground was getting closer and closer, and really, I was kind of surprised that time felt like it’d slowed down as much as it had. And of course, Fenton and that pretty white hair of his were nowhere in sight. 
Just my luck. 
I closed my eyes. Might as well make my last few moments count, right?
And so I started imagining how things would’ve turned out differently if, let’s say, I’d been able to take Fenton as my date to prom. We would’ve had a blast laughing about Brady, who had definitely been the one to spike the punch and then proceed to chug it. And we would’ve just hung out and talked about sports and space and the stars and anything else he wanted. Then a slow song would’ve come on, and I would’ve taken him out onto the floor and danced with him, hand in hand just like a real couple. His gorgeous blue eyes would’ve had that little mischievous twinkle they get all the time when I inevitably tripped over my own feet while dancing ‘cause I’d be so nervous.
And then he’d laugh and wrap his arms around me, and I would’ve pulled him closer, and we would’ve leaned in all quiet and excited, and his lips would be right there and -
“GAHHH!!”
Okay, I’ve taken some nasty hits during games, but whatever had just plowed into my ribs hurt like crazy. Was it the ground? Was I still alive?
A quick scan told me that yes, somehow I was still alive? 
And it wasn’t the ground that I’d crashed into. Or, more accurately in this case, crashed into me.
White hair stung my cheeks as it whipped around in the wind. 
“Jeez, Baxter, what were you thinking?” came Fenton’s voice. He set me down on the ground and fixed me with a look that sent my heart racing. “Why on earth were you that close to the edge?”
I couldn’t help it. I closed the gap between us. 
His lips were cold and chapped. Totally different than any girl I’d ever kissed.
I broke it off. He stared back at me with his wide eyes. I just grinned and asked, “Wanna go to prom with me?”
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dy1ng-athe1st · 2 months
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So.... today's quality played me dirty BUT! I had a (lets say nice) conversation with Del and he was like "tf you want from me" but then (I think) he started to checking me out (??), like, just look at this:
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this frickin' mf, goddamn, i'm too horny as for a fictional character
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9thgateofgay · 6 months
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Gravitational Pull
Short and sweet little kakagai blurb I wrote a couple months ago, back when I was first getting into the ship and wasn't feeling confident enough to contribute to the tag yet, lol. It's a bit unpolished and probably borders on purple-prose but HEY I had fun and that's what matters
Gai's the mighty waves of the ocean, churning with passion. Kakashi is the moon, and Kakashi recognizes this.
Writing under the cut!
--
Gai’s the mighty waves of the ocean. 
Powerful and intense, churning with passion like a raging tsunami; calm and serene when he needs to be, like a relaxing, warm afternoon on the beach; can mould and shape rock into capable shinobi, like tides carving boulders over centuries.
And yet, it’s not done alone– the mighty ocean can’t ebb and flow without aid. Can’t rise and fall on the shores without the moon. Pushed and pulled by the moon’s gravitational pull, fully motivated by the moon’s movements around the earth and its intense draw.
Kakashi is the moon, and Kakashi recognizes this; he understands he has a certain allure to him, like a full moon does on a starry, cloudless, cool night. He understands he’s mysterious and attracts many towards him– friend and enemy alike. He has his secrets, and he has his scars, like the moon has its craters. 
And like the moon, far, far away in isolated, quiet, vast space, Kakashi thought he was enough on his own. He thought he was all he needed. He thought being alone was for the better. Untouchable. Unreachable, because if he distanced himself, anybody who tried would freeze and perish in the cold abyss of space in their desperate attempts. Surely, surely being out of reach will deter anyone from getting too close. Surely he’d thrive in isolation.
But in reality, he learns, the moon doesn’t stay stagnant in space, nor does it travel in a linear path– the Earth pulls it in. Keeps it in orbit, in a path, in a routine, keeps it from straying too far away.
Full moons are brilliant; new moons try to escape the naked eye, try to disappear; they try to run from their burdens, their pasts. 
And yet, the Earth loves the moon’s many phases anyway, yearns to study its beauty, has a special appreciation for and understanding of each of its phases, from full to waning, to new, then back to waxing, then full again. 
Gai is Kakashi's Earth.
Gai is there every step of the way. On the good days, on the mediocre days, on the horrid days where everything becomes too much.
Gai keeps Kakashi on his path– keeps him balanced and in orbit, like the Earth to the moon. Pulls him in tight when Kakashi feels like straying and hiding away. 
Kakashi reveals this to Gai one day.
Gai, of course, ever competitive against his rival, insists that if he himself is the Earth, then surely Kakashi must be the sun, rather than the moon– surely Kakashi’s the sun, the sole object providing the Earth its warmth and life!
(This, of course, is insisted upon by Gai through fountains of joyous tears.)
--
Not the angst I teased earlier, but that's just because I'm too tired and my brain is too fried to come up with anything new LOL so have this cheesy, dramatic nonsense instead <3
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moregraceful · 13 days
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@patrichornkissed THANK you for this WONDERFUL THOUGHT JOURNEY!!! under a cut
who came out first -- matty came out to brady first but brady came out to their parents + young sister first. matty came out to their extended family first but brady came out to all their shared friends first. it absolutely was the most headass competition after that initial fear when brady came out to matty, a couple months after matty came out to her.
not to eldest-daughter code matty but sometimes u set an example for your younger siblings and the things that brady had been wrestling with that felt too big and too much suddenly felt accessible and manageable. once she reconciled that with herself, she came out to matty, and the two of them engaged in the world's stupidest game of one-up-womanship. this caused so many problems in their personal life and they loved every minute of the chaos.
did quinn and brady get married immediately -- SORT OF. they get married when quinn graduates college. childhood sweethearts, broke up in college when quinn went to umich and brady went to a state school. and yk how it goes with teenagers going to college they're like, this CANNOT work bc now we are ADULTS in COLLEGE, we need to SEE OTHER PEOPLE because young love ISN'T REAL, and then brady makes it through one year of college and goes this SUCKS!!! academically and emotionally, drops out after one year. spends a year bouncing around trying to make her life work without quinn and having an low-stakes but meaningless fling with timmy from her beer league team. and her life DOES NOT MAKE SENSE without quinn. so in quinn's junior year she comes back to quinn and is like hello. you are the love of my life. i want to be with you forever. and quinn has been in a strange little polycule with various swedes and americans and he's like ...yeah. no. i miss you too. this is great but it's not right.
and then they're together for the rest of their lives, hanging out and doing whatever. getting married literally like two months after quinn graduates. they spent about five minutes trying to plan a wedding and get bored and annoyed and then handed it off to brady's mom, who has a blast bc she has realized that matty is at least twenty to thirty years off of being functional enough to get married and brady is going to be way less fussy.
important wedding notes because i am an incurable romantic when it comes to parties:
takes place at some random lake in michigan, no one really cares about the ceremony except parents and grandparents, the reception is in a big banquet hall but the afterparty is in a barn, matty and timmy hook up in a random shed, it's magical, everyone has a GREAT time, including matty, up until she hooks up with timmy
elias and brock and thatcher are there, deeply involved in day of wedding prep and making sure everything goes according to plan and they're so helpful and so competent, and no cishet family member realizes they're quinn's ex-polycule for a solid six hours, like until WELL into reception, at which point it's too late for anyone to say anything
the tkachuk sisters are brady's bridesmaids, the hughes bros are quinn's best men. obvi. the hughes bros are the ones crying during brady's deeply stupid vows though
quinn wears a suit and he looks so handsome. brady wears a dress but the hemline is literally mid-thigh and it has no sleeves. she is a bombshell ofc
brady and quinn's first dance is to "suga suga" by baby bash. the closing song in the afterparty (post-reception) is "moment's silence (common tongue)" by hozier which brady picked and quinn didn't look at the lyrics beforehand. and is thankfully too drunk to notice, but luke and taryn do and they're both so stressed out by their older siblings having oral sex that they leave immediately with matty beniers, and josh norris to go sober up in a denny's at like 2am lol.
sorry i know you are anti-marriage, but i love to think about queer weddings bc the only lesbian wedding i've been to was so clean and heterosexual that it makes me actively sad to think about lmao. brady and quinn's wedding is like...bro queer
does matty ever get her shit together -- like. a dozen years in the future after her final trainwreck relationship with leon. it takes a lot of therapy bc while she came out first to brady, she never really felt safe or comfortable as herself around anyone BUT brady. and obvi brady cannot be there every moment of her life. and part of the reason every relationship she's in ends up being kind of a wreck because she hates herself so much but covers it up with so much bravado and big energy and zero honesty or emotional intimacy. like u cannot be inauthentic in a relationship and expect it to work out yk?? but then she meets sasha (i changed my mind, they use any pronouns) who is like ok. i am willing to try this. i am very attracted to you and i could fall in love with you easily. but you NEED to figure your shit out if you want this to work in the long term.
and no one has ever made that kind commitment to matty, so she tries her hardest to reconcile the parts of herself that are ugly and cruel to herself, and turn it into love. and it takes like. over a decade. because she's also a corporate lawyer. but she finally gets there in the end 😭
sasha is quite happy to live in sin for several years lol he grows heirloom vegetables and works on a farm doing most of their farmstand and farmer's market stuff bc they are gentle and kind, but she's also like yeah now that i'm dating someone in corporate law, i do not have to worry that much. so he waits for matty to get right with herself, and she raises some heirloom chickens that matty does his therapy homework with. a fun (???) digression
thank you for asking!!!!! i love them 😭😭😭
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sawiet · 6 months
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when i tell people that there is nothing left in my life but fandoms, they laugh. they think i'm kidding. but i'm not. everything is on fire, nothing matters but a two hundred thousand word gay fanfic
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sundaynightlive · 9 months
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Wild [+reckless driving] (Steddie)
Next Part
Eddie blows smoke out the window as they drive, and Steve tries to keep his eyes on the road. With anyone else, that task would’ve been easy—Steve’s a real stickler for safety, plus his car is like his baby, and if anything happened to her he might as well die, too. 
That’s dramatic, but still. 
Eddie’s different. Steve couldn’t ignore him if he tried, and trust him, he fucking tries—especially racing down the highway in the middle of the night. It’s just impossible—those long, dark curls framing his face, his slump into the seat and spread of his knees, the tattoos that litter his arms like he has quilted limbs. Steve never knew a man could be so beautiful, and that scares him, but not enough to keep him away. He’s so drawn to it all—the bad boy, town pariah, nerdy charm. It’s like Robin and Nancy had a baby and it’s Eddie, which is sort of weird but mostly like a death trap. It's like the universe created him specifically, scarily specifically.
How could Steve not like him? How could Steve not want to jump his bones—press him into any flat surface and—
God, Steve wants to kiss him. Badly. He’s sure he’s never wanted to kiss someone so bad. Everyone he’s ever been interested in kissing has been equally interested in kissing him—it wasn’t exactly difficult back in the days of high-school and being “Mr. Popular.”
Now it feels insurmountable, like Steve’s standing at the bottom of a cliff he has to scale in order to reach Eddie “the freak” Munson at the top, a feeling he never would’ve anticipated having, ever. Certainly not until Dustin had introduced them, insisting they’d get along and being right beyond measure.
They got along too well.
“Eyes on the road, Stevie.”
Steve turns quickly back to empty highway, despite his reluctance. He can feel Eddie grinning at his side profile, the arrogant bastard. This has been happening a lot lately—Eddie catching him. Steve would feel more embarrassed about it if Eddie really said anything, or called him out, but no. Just that stupid little grin like his ego’s swollen ten sizes. Part of Steve would prefer Eddie said something so he knew whether or not he stood a fucking chance.
“I don’t know if you know this,” Eddie continues, surprising Steve, because he rarely continues, “But you’ve been giving me the eyes, lately.” 
Steve’s grip tightens on the wheel, he adjusts his hands, and then he tries to relax. They do need to talk about it. No matter how awkward it is, it’s only fair. At the very least, Steve wants to keep being friends with the boy, so as long as they have an open and honest discussion—
“Pull over.”
Steve’s brows furrow. He looks over at Eddie, but Eddie’s just staring out the window at the spanning corn fields. He flicks his cigarette out.
“Ed, we’re in the middle of—”
“Pull over.”
Eddie’s still not looking at him. Steve sighs.
“What are we doing?” Steve questions, popping open his car door, because whatever’s going on, it seems like Eddie wants to be out for it. He walks around the front, taking a deep breath of sweet, night air. He can faintly smell cigarette smoke, definitely Eddie, but for the most part, it satisfies his lungs like a cool glass of water. He rounds the front, and leans up against his BMW next to Ed, who’s got his arms crossed and is still not looking in Steve’s direction.
“I know that I’m giving you… the eyes, or whatever,” Steve says, itching to break the silence, “I just thought—” He cuts himself off with a sharp gasp as Eddie turns, caging Steve in against the car, their hips flush together and their foreheads bumping just soft enough that it doesn’t hurt. Steve wants to play it cool, but there’s absolutely no saving himself from reaching beneath Eddie’s vest and clenching his fingers in that dorky Hellfire t-shirt. He nearly swallows his tongue as the hand that’s not bracing Ed against the car slips two fingers through one of his belt loops.
“Tell me no,” Eddie mutters, still not looking at him.
He’s eyeing Steve's mouth, instead.
Steve begins to pant—absolutely mortifying considering Eddie’s done nothing but move to share space with him. His chest and shoulders heave with breath, and his mouth has gone so dry, he feels like he just woke up from a bender. He watches Eddie intently, anticipating, aching.
“I can’t,” he whispers.
The distance between them closes and Steve is pulling relentlessly on that shirt, desperate to be closer to Eddie than he already is which would be impossible unless Steve literally crawled beneath his skin. Eddie’s hand, which had been the only thing stopping Eddie’s body from completely crushing him against his BMW, moves to angle Steve’s chin—a move which lights Steve’s entire body on fire, because never once has he been corrected while kissing. Never once had a girl had the audacity to tell him what to do, how to be, and Steve is realizing now he craves that—that mindless direction.
Tell me what to do and I will do it. Make me good for you.
Eddie’s only kissing him and is somehow awakening his most severe desire.
When they break the first time, they’re both breathless. Eddie presses firmly into Steve’s body and it hurts with his back awkwardly pinned against his car, but he would not have Eddie anywhere else in the world. In fact, he hopes it continues to hurt for the rest of his life so this moment is permanently etched into his skin like a festering bruise.
“I honestly didn’t think this would go so well,” Eddie admits. Steve’s eyes flick down to those soft lips—the ones that taste like nicotine and spit, not overtly pleasant but so, so addictive.
“Kiss me again.”
“You got it, big boy.”
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zeroducks-2 · 5 months
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Since we've been talking about demon!Eobard and exorcist!Barry and Jay... He shouldn't have left the boy--oh, he's a man, a brave and intelligent one at that, but to Garrick he's just a kid still and too innocent for this work--to wander off. But Barry had said he wanted to check something, and Jay hadn't seen any harm in it. The shouts and cries he hears from across the house bring Jay as quickly as his feet can carry him, but it seems it's over before he bursts through the door. Barry's on his knees, expression shocked, and Jay sags against the doorframe in relief, knuckles white as he sends up a prayer of thanks when those blue eyes focus on him with a blink. Allen's lips slowly form a grin, elated, and Jay can't help but chuckle when he lets out a breathless laugh, clutching at his chest like he can't quite credit that he came through the encounter intact. Garrick feels like the crushing hug he gathers the smaller man into is more than earned, it's needed. He needs to affirm to himself that he's unharmed and safe. Barry melts into the hug, and Jay's feels pride and affection like a pressure in his chest. They conclude their investigation of the home--no sign of the entity that they'd come to oust--and the two pack up as the light starts to turn golden. Sitting behind the wheel of the rickety old truck he's called his for decades, the older of the two priests glances Barry's way where he sits, leaning an elbow on the window sill of the passenger seat. His grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles white as his heart suddenly pounds in his chest.
Barry's eyes are blue, like a clear sky in autumn.
Just now, Jay could swear he caught a glint of red.
ODHSKFJSK
I know nothing about priests and this is definitely not the fic I should be writing BUT HERE HAVE A DRABBLE ANYWAY--
There was nothing wrong with that house, Jay is convinced of it. With that entire neighbourhood even, despite the many reports of strange happenings going around in the past few months. It's more likely that some kids were pulling a prank on their seniors because the telltale signs of a Presence were just not there.
Birds behaved normally, no cats hissing at apparently nothing, no dogs scared to walk into a particular room or a lane. No sigils, no symbols. Truly the only odd occurrence that had been lamented where the lights - like a storm was brewing but with flashes of blood red instead of white, seen by four different people at the same hour of different nights. That and mirrors breaking by themselves in two separate occasions.
Jay has seen many little communities susceptible to the suggestion of paranormal, and in fact many people are just bored with the mundane, cling to the hope that something more hides behind a nightmare or a perfectly explainable "odd experience", or in case of elderlies, their own deteriorating minds. Barry was the one who insisted to go give it a look. If anything, it was going to be a trip to a quaint little village, and it had been just that after all, both the young man and his older mentor enjoying their time together just like father and son.
Then why after almost three months from said trip, is Jay still thinking about it.
Not just thinking, that would be reductive. He's going over everything that happened in details, especially the moment he heard Barry's scared cry from another room... Nothing was happening in that room, right? Barry had just dropped something. A mirror. There were glass shards on the floor when Jay had gotten there and Barry was kneeling in the middle of them, luckily unscathed. Jay remembers being worried for him, hurrying to pull him into a hug. He remembers Barry's laugh, everything was alright.
Definitely nothing was happening in that room.
A letter arrives, and it thanks Garrick and his former apprentice for the help, saying that ever since their visit, all the disturbances stopped. No more mirrors shattering, no more strange lights. Maybe the kids pulling a prank got scared of seeing two priests and decided to call it quits. Maybe the people who convinced themselves that they were seeing things, also convinced themselves that whatever entity they thought there was, it had been successfully ousted. Regardless, it's not like Jay and Barry had actually done anything about it. They had just taken a look, and the most notable incident was Barry accidentally breaking that mirror. Was it...?
Jay goes check their equipment, it's still in the back of the truck. They prepared for an ousting but why, there was never any need for it. Among the other things there's a shard of glass in the bag, some drops of crusted blood still on it. It makes no sense, Barry never got cut with that broken mirror, where does that blood come from?
He decides to visit Barry. It's been too long for any cut to be still on him but he might as well ask. Jay can't remember for the love of him that the young man got cut, but Barry most likely does. And maybe he also remembers what exactly happened in that room.
He's pulling up in the driveway of Barry's apartment, the truck's engine wheezing to a halt. Jay grabs the key to pull it out of the ignition.
The man in the passenger seat smiles at him from the rearview mirror, and Jay turns to face red eyes on a friendly face.
"Nothing happened in that room," the smiling man says as he looks back at Jay. "And Barry is alright. You don't need to see him now."
Jay nods. It's entirely true, nothing happened in that room. They went to that place solely to take a trip, maybe have a look around. Barry never got cut anywhere, what a silly thought... And surely Jay doesn't need to bother him with this now.
He still has his hand on the key. The engine rumbles back to life as Jay turns it, then drives away from Barry's home.
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chemicalarospec · 1 month
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anyone else live in Queer Land to such an extent that when reading fanfiction from the mid 2010s or earlier, the characters having to come out and talking about discrimination and saying things like "it's not weird that we're gay. but we'll get looks" and "I've always known I liked men," seems awkward to them?
I'm fascinated by this in myself, because 1. I REMEMBER living in Homophobia World where all of this felt necessary and true 2. I have homophobic cousins. (They believe in conversion therapy.) But since I only see them a few times a year, I like, somehow forget how prevalent homophobia is -- all my IRL friends are queer, so I forget that homophobic Society exists.
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