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nobody-is-evil · 1 year

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Dream, Why Don’t You Have a Snugglefest with Hob and Maybe You’ll Calm Down

Summary: Results inconclusive. Dream was calm during the snugglefest, but...

This is for the Feb prompt (Cuddle) Pollen for the @yearoftheotpevent.

Thanks to @littledreamling for being my beta.

I’ll reblog this with the link to the fic on ao3.

Warnings: non-consensual drug use that usually comes with the pollen trope, mentions of period-typical homophobia (in the form of fear of it), Dream is not nice to himself, sad/open ending

There is a fight going on right next to him. Hob Gadling fights the two smugglers that Lady Johanna Constantine brought in with her, two men named Michael Stoker and Tobias Underwood.

Dream does not pay them any mind. Mere mortals cannot hurt him. No, what is important is the discomfiting sensation of—something. He cannot place what affects him, but something is.

He feels...cold. His form’s head is aching. This body, like that of a fawn’s, struggles to keep him upright. Most worryingly, the Dreaming is fading away from him.

Lady Johanna Constantine’s words make their way to him, “...mix something into your drink.” He feels the weight of her gaze when she continues, “I’ve been assured it will work on your kind.”

No.

This is her work? Her petty hedge-magicking?

He grabs the seat of his chair hard enough to whiten his knuckles. It requires more control than it should not to growl and shout at her.

Few things should be able to affect one such as him at all, and less should be able to rip away all that makes him Endless and replace it with human flesh, but without his endless memory, he cannot remember. All that he can think about is the chill and how weakened he feels.

He falls out of his chair and to the floor on his knees, clutching his head with both hands to try to relieve the pain. His form protests even this position, swaying, and he presses one hand against the ground to steady himself.

(There is a thud that could only be the sound of Hob succumbing as well. The delay is likely from his immortality, but it could not stop the effects forever.)

Fingertips touch his shoulder. The heat is tangible through his conjured clothing. Dream yanks himself away, and his words come out as a hiss when he speaks through gritted teeth, “Do not touch me!”

His irritation is far more palpable than he usually allows himself. It is unbecoming of an Endless, if natural from a mortal.

“Oh, do not try to trick me. I know exactly how you’re feeling now.”

She cannot comprehend even a drop of the power he usually carries, evident in the way she attempts again to touch him—this time, directly on his skin. Dream resorts to crawling backwards away from her.

A footstep echoes across the room like a gunshot. For half a second, Dream fears (fears!) that one of her lackeys has awoken, but no—it is Hob. The sun washes his features in golden light, painting him as the archetype of an avenging angel as he charges at her.

In seconds, she has fallen limply to the ground. She does not move, so she must be in his realm—how galling it is to have to figure that out, like trying to understand another through the movements of her lips rather than her voiced words. He rashly attempts to reconnect to the Dreaming, but only strains his mind in the process, adding to the existing pounding in his head. He clutches his head again.

Hob’s voice comes from right next to Dream, “They could get up at any moment. We should leave.” (Dream has to dig his fingers further into his scalp.) “Can you stand?”

Can.

He.

Stand.

Dream rises unaided—for about half a second before he lurches to the side and has to grab onto the table. But that cannot be the end of his humiliation; no, his muscles fail him even with the help from the table, and he falls all the way back to the floor.

Hob does not offer help. This is not something Dream is unused to, but after fighting off his three attackers unasked, Hob seems like he would be the kind of person to do so.

Or, perhaps, Dream is complicating a simple zest for fighting.

“No. No, I cannot stand.” Each extra word is an arrow he rips out of his skin. “...help me...”

“...please...”

Hob says, barely audible, “Certainly.”

Even expecting the touch and watching his hands approach—

(Dream is not unused to heat. The power of an Endless has a similar effect, such that he seldom bothers giving his form in the Waking World a temperature in the range of humans. But without his power, all Dream has left is this body, this body that has never been anything but freezing, and from this perspective, even another mortal’s body heat is...hot.)

—he still flinches when he feels the heat they emit.

Hob retracts them as if he is the one burnt. “Are you sure?”

Grinding his teeth is a familiar sensation (the accompanying pain, not so much). Of course Hob would pay attention and be concerned about this body’s involuntary reaction. In his peripherals, he can see that his own limbs are shaking. “Do it!” Dream spits out.

The heat returns to the backsides of his knees and his upper back, and this time, it does not leave when he flinches. With longer than an instant to adjust to it, his body decides that it rather likes being warm. A good thing, as Dream is pressed against something that warms even more of him at once.

His body moves instinctively, seeking the configuration that allows for it to be in contact with the warmth the most. His head digs into the warmest spot of all, a little crook that he fits into so well, it is like it was made for this purpose.

And it is rumbling.

Dream cracks open an eye (that he does not remember closing) and is reminded that he is being carried by a human, Hob—who is laughing at him.

“You have regained your strength, old stranger. I could drop my arms and you would stay as you are.”

“Do not!” Dream tightens around Hob further. It is as he said; Dream’s strength is, inexplicably, back, though he still does not want to lose the nest of Hob’s arms.

Hob tenses in turn, voice dropping to an urgent whisper, “You must not speak so loud! If anyone sees that I’m carrying a man like this...”

It takes Dream a moment to realize that Hob is referring to him as a man, and longer to place his fears. “The anti-sodomy laws,” he realizes. “Then we shall not be seen. Concentrate on your destination.”

“What?” Hob asks, even though Dream can sense his daydream.

Dream manipulates the sand out of his pouch with more ease than usual—the difference between leading a dog with a leash and simply calling for it—and it surrounds them.

When it dissipates, they are inside his home.

“That is convenient,” Hob breathes, turning in the direction of the still-locked front door. Then he suddenly says, “Er, I’ll put you down, now,” and stops in front of his couch.

Naturally. Now that Dream is back to full strength, there is no reason for a mortal to carry him.

He allows himself to be released—up until he is reminded of how frosty it is outside of Hob’s arms. Then he retreats back up like a cat scrambling out of water.

Hob accommodates the aborted motion, though there is no small amount of confusion in his voice when he says, “My friend?”

Perhaps Dream could request that Hob light the fireplace? No, that would require him to let go of Dream. There is no distracting him from this. “It...is cold,” he admitted.

“Oh.” Hob seems to consider this. He takes to pacing down the length of his living room. “So, it’s not normal for you to be freezing to the touch?”

Dream corrects, “It is. The part that is unusual is that I feel the chill.”

Hob gasps. “This is because of what Lady Johanna mixed into your drink!” he exclaims at first with realization and then with righteous anger.

“Perhaps,” Dream agrees as though he already thought of that.

“Do you know—well, you’ll be fine, surely? How long before you’re back to normal?”

Dream considers this. He does not quite remember. “After a fashion, I shall. Between one and eleven hours.”

Hob huffs. “My endurance is not what it used to be. I doubt I can stay awake that long, let alone carry you the entire time, old stranger, even with how light you are.”

Hmm. Dream allows magnanimously, “Let it not be known that I would keep a...human from his rest. If you wish to recline, then we shall.”

Hob stops. His throat shifts as he swallows. “Thank you, my friend.”

The walk to Hob’s bedroom is silent. Dream does not pay any mind to the decorations—he is content to rest in Hob’s hold. They stop in front of his bed, and only then does Dream reluctantly drop down from his grasp onto it.

He immediately regrets it when the chill returns. It should be warm, what with all the bedding, but it is not. The memory of warmth slips away, like sand would slip out of his grasp in his weak condition, and it is only on conscious knowledge that he knows the heat will help and not hurt when Hob climbs into bed after him.

Once he is used to the boiler that is Hob again, Dream’s body seeks out the position that allows him to squeeze out as much warmth as he can get. Hob lays on his back, so Dream lays on his left side, with his left arm pinned underneath Hob and right arm crossing Hob’s chest. Like this, he can fit his head back into its rightful place in the crook of Hob’s neck.

Extra, much appreciated warmth comes in the form of Hob’s right arm down Dream’s back and his left hand in Dream’s hair. The repetitive movements calm him, succor almost enough to make him forget that this is not his natural state.

They lay in silence.

“It has been 25 minutes,” Dream says later. “You are not asleep. You are no closer to being asleep.”

The hands in his hair and on his back slow in their motions. “I’m not.”

Dream almost drops it and asks him to keep doing it, but he stands by his resolution to not keep Hob from sleeping. “Why?”

“These clothes are not made to be slept in,” Hob admits quietly. His next words come out in a rush, “But it’s fine; I’m sure you would not appreciate the time it would take me to change them—”

“Nonsense.” Dream barely has to use any of his sand to undress Hob. In an instant, he has left Hob in only his white underclothes (recognizing how many Dreamers fear being nude in public).

The change is immediate—Hob gives off heat tenfold, a hundredfold. Dream lets out a surprised purr. The only thing that is important is soaking up as much of this new, extra warmth as he can. He lets his instincts guide his body again and ends up laying on top of Hob.

If removing one layer of clothing yielded this result, what would happen if Dream gets rid of his own clothes?

He banishes them.

The influx of heat no longer feels like it can be attributed to just physical temperature. He feels simultaneously like he is underwater and like he is floating, like he is spinning and like he is still, like he is laying on Hob and like he is melting into him until they are just one being.

A slight shift underneath him brings him back down to Earth until he breaches the surface of the water.

“My friend,” Hob says, with a strained quality to his voice that Dream has never heard before, “you’re too—heavy, to be on top of me.”

Yet, Dream is simply too comfortable to move. This nest is perfect; there must be some other way to fix it. Hmm—of course. He calls a bit of sand and uses it to make his form as light as a feather.

Hob swallows again, and when he speaks, his voice is closer to normal. “Er...I thank you. This is considerably better.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

For a moment, silence reigns.

“Would you mind...” Hob is oddly hesitant. “I find that I can lull myself to sleep by telling a story. Would you mind hearing one?”

Dream has to stop the purr that tries to escape at this. Hob does not know who he asks, who he freely offers his stories to—he is ignorant of the implications. Instead, Dream reminds himself of the foundation of their relationship, “You would continue where we left off before we were interrupted?”

Hob lets out a chuckle at that. “If we’re to continue where we left off, I remember that you were about to tell me your name.”

That...is true. Hob has been very patient, has he not? 400 years is a long time for a human. Dream, relaxed because of his presence, cannot think of how he could be more worthy. “Very well.”

“I have many names. You may know me as Lord Morpheus, Shaper of Forms, Oneiros, the Oneiromancer, King of Dreams and of Nightmares. You likely know me as the Sandman.” Dream pauses at Hob’s sharp intake of breath, trying to choose whether to give him the name of Prince of Stories, before deciding against it. “My first and truest name is Dream of the Endless. Put simply, Dream. And I would be pleased if you would tell me a story.”

“...right. It’s wonderful to meet you, Dream.” Hob swallows once again. “I have to ask, do you know all dreams?”

This is when he usually corrects that he is all dreams. But he is not, not at the moment. “Perhaps.”

Hob’s hands find Dream’s back and hair again, resuming their ministrations. “Only, I would like to be the one to tell you about my life, in person. That is why we meet up. So, could you block mine out?”

That is a new request.

“I understand if n—” Hob adds in a rush before Dream cuts him off.

“I can.” For some reason, he is less reluctant to admit weakness now, “I am...disconnected...from the majority of my usual abilities. When I regain my full spread of powers, I will ensure that knowledge of your dreams is still hidden from me.”

“I thank you again, my friend.”

“The tale you promised me?” Dream prompts.

Hob starts, “This story begins many years ago...”

Dream listens attentively. In this state, without his endless memory, he does not know the story. It is a new experience, rare for one such as him. He sinks into peace, ataraxy, serenity, in the depths of Hob’s voice.

Dream of the Endless and Hob Gadling are at a meadow. There is nobody else around. They walk for a while, enjoying each other’s presence, before stopping on a hill.

Hob has a picnic basket. He lays down the blanket and arranges the food. The sun washes his features in golden light, painting him as the archetype of an angel.

While Dream stares at Hob, Hob stares back.

They stay like that for ages before Hob leans in to Dream—

The scene disappears from around him, his surroundings changing to that of his throne room.

Lucienne stands before him. “There you are, my lord.” She sounds perfectly composed, or would, to anyone except Dream. He hears the undercut of worry.

“I apologize for my absence.” What happened? He is disoriented...he was stuck in one facet of himself for some time, separated from his function.

Oh.

Myitzur pollen.

Most importantly, his powers are rapidly returning. If he does not address it immediately, he will further break his promise. “Find Hob Gadling’s books and remove them from the library. Put them where I cannot access them.”

“Right away, sir.”

Dream does not look away from her as she efficiently walks away. Only when she has fully left the room does he allow himself to relax.

She did not see what she interrupted. She could not have. Only 3 should know: Dream, Fiddler’s Green...and Hob. The Heart of the Dreaming will not tell; Dream does not mind him knowing. Dream has nothing to worry from him, unlike many other residents of the Dreaming.

Hob, on the other hand, will be most displeased with Dream. An hour, less than that, passed between making and breaking the promise.

Not to mention everything that happened before that. He allowed himself to be incapacitated by a mere mortal, had to accept help from another, and then went so far as to seek comfort from him.

Weak.

He should have kept his wits about him. Never again will he ingest food or drink from the Waking World, not even in the presence of Hob Gadling.

That reminds him. Dream removes the physical body he left behind.

Despite the fact that he is far less affected by the Myitzur pollen than he was before, he still shivers—a much too human reaction—at the loss of body heat.

He cannot allow himself to react like that. It is best if he does not think about Hob until their next meeting, both to reduce the anger Hob most certainly feels for him and to lessen the...feelings that he is having. He should never crave comfort.

Dream is decidedly still as a statue when he finally fully returns to normal, and the contents of Hob Gadling’s books are unknown to him.

———

Hob wakes up freezing and alone.

———

Omake:

“Do you know—well, you’ll be fine, surely? How long before you’re back to normal?”

Dream considers this. He does not quite remember, but, “It should not take long.” What is a reasonable range of time to an immortal human? “Between an hour and...eleven months.”

...

“Eleven months,” Hob repeats quietly.

Nope. What is the measurement of time just longer than an hour? “I meant to say days. Not months. Days.”

“I guess that’s better than eleven months...”

———

Reblogs, likes, reblogs that just say extra likes, etc. are all welcome!

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inairbinad · 1 year

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Never Quite As It Seems

Nancy Wheeler/Barb Holland + Steve and Barb bonding

A glimpse at a world where Nancy saves Barb and then they start dating 🥰 From the Barb Lives AU in my other fic, Petals in a Storm. It can definitely be read as a standalone, though.

cw: period typical homophobia; ~3k words; read below the cut or on ao3 if you perfer

Steve Harrington wasn’t the kind of person that girls like Barb Holland could trust. In Barb’s experience, Steve was the kind of guy you avoided at all costs, because if he looked in your direction that either meant he wanted to cheat off of your work or mock your very existence. At least, that had been true in years past.

Barb really wasn’t expecting stealing the dude’s girlfriend to be the thing that turned their relationship around.

Whether it was stranger that Barb and Nancy ended up together at all, or the fact that it happened as a side effect of hunting monsters together, Barb couldn’t quite decide. But by some curious twist of fate both were true, and Barb’s sophomore year went from being an endless slog of just trying to get through, to a (sometimes terrifying) adventure that left her finally able to kiss Nancy Wheeler whenever they could sneak away somewhere private.

Barb had known long before a demogorgon ever came after her in Steve Harrington’s backyard that she was in love with her best friend. Though living in a state of denial sometimes felt like slipping into a warm bath, in her most brutally honest moments Barb knew the truth. That truth rose up and slapped her across the face the night she watched Nancy come charging out of Steve’s house like a woman possessed to Barb’s rescue, and then throw a rock at an alien’s head and save her life.

That night, covered in blood and dirt and skirting the woods nearby the Harrington’s house, Barb escaped a certain death—and yet knew she was a goner.

What she never dared to hope for, however, was that Nancy might feel the same.

“When did you know?” Barb asked Nancy while they were lying in bed, whispering so that Mike or Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler’s prying ears wouldn’t overhear them. Barb still couldn’t wrap her head around how no one noticed a difference between the two of them when their relationship had changed so drastically, especially when she was sure every feeling she’d ever had for Nancy was written across her face, every second of every day. But somehow they kept getting away with gal pal sleepovers filled with clandestine kisses, and no parents were the wiser.

“Know what?” Nancy asked. The shadows of her eyelashes cast deep shadows across her cheekbones that Barb desperately wanted to reach out and touch, and then she realized she could. Gently, she brushed the pad of her thumb against Nancy’s cheek, and the way Nancy smiled in response gave Barb the courage to rephrase.

“When did you know that you wanted to be more than friends?” Barb clarified, cursing the slight quiver in her voice. But Nancy just smiled at her, eyes shining like her question was a gift.

“You might not like the answer,” Nancy said, biting the corner of her lip in hesitation.

“I’m pretty sure I will,” Barb said, unable to imagine any universe in which she’d be upset to learn how Nancy Wheeler realized she wanted to kiss her.

“Okay,” Nancy hedged, but her smile was still playful. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Barb mimed zipping her lips to encourage Nancy forward.

“I realized it when I was kissing Steve,” Nancy said, scrunching up her nose a little, then quickly continued before Barb could think to interject. “Which sounds bad! But it was just because I felt so awful about how we left things that night at the pool. And I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and all of a sudden you were screaming my name...I don’t know. Everything happened so fast, but I knew by the end of it I never wanted to let you go.”

“That…” Barb hesitated, wondering how the hell to react. “That was not what I was expecting. But it sounds worse for Steve than it does for me.”

Nancy shoved Barb’s shoulder with all the force of a baby bird and sent them both tumbling down into a fit of giggles, until Mike thumped on the wall and yelled at them to shut up. Then they only laughed louder.

“What about you?” Nancy asked, back to whisper quiet once they’d calmed down.

“Remember last summer when we all watched Poltergeist in the basement?” Barb asked, fondly remembering how Mike and his friends insisted on being allowed to see it. Nancy had agreed, but only if she got to keep an eye on them while they did.

“Yes,” Nancy rolled her eyes. “Mike was unbearable about sleeping alone for a week. He kept making Will come over every night.”

“Right,” Barb chuckled, remembering it well. “Well, I got freaked out while watching and you held my hand for the rest of the movie. I didn’t care about ghosts anymore because I was too busy freaking out about realizing I had feelings for my best friend.”

Nancy was quiet for a moment, but her crooked little smile was radiant. “That’s kind of adorable, Barb.”

“Shut up,’ Barb said, feeling her cheeks get hot now.

“It is!” Nancy insisted, then leaned forward and pecked Barb on the cheek—matching sweetness for sweetness. “But I am a little concerned that both of our stories involve being scared out of our minds.”

Barb smiled in response, but it felt a little hollow. Nancy was right—almost every aspect of their relationship had been tied up in fear, because being gay in Hawkins was as scary as any monster Barb had ever seen.

“At least we’ve got each other, right?” Barb asked softly.

“Yeah,” Nancy’s smile was as warm as her lips when she leaned in to kiss Barb properly. Even though they’d been together for months, the soft feeling of Nancy’s mouth against hers still left her seeing stars.

“I love you, Nance.” Barb heard the words slip out of her mouth before she even knew she was talking. She froze, eyes wide, with Nancy still close enough for their noses to touch. Nancy looked just as surprised as Barb felt, but she didn’t seem nearly as panicked.

“I love you, too,” she said easily.

It may have been terrifying, loving another girl, but Nancy made every moment worth it.

“Steve’s gonna eat lunch with us today,” Nancy told Barb as they were already on their way into the cafeteria. Barb tensed—she still wasn’t entirely comfortable around him, if she was being honest. He and Jonathan were the only ones that knew about Nancy and Barb at all (it was kind of hard to avoid after the two boys had stumbled upon their first kiss), and both seemed to accept their relationship after the initial shock wore off. But Barb still didn’t know quite how to act around Steve. They had next to nothing in common, besides Nancy.

“Okay…” Barb said, knowing her tone sounded passive aggressive even when she didn’t mean it to. “Why?”

“Because we’re kind of his only friends now, besides Jonathan?” Nancy said like it was obvious.

She wasn’t wrong, exactly. Steve was barely seen with Tommy H and Carol prowling around him these days, but they weren’t completely cut off from each other, either. And a large segment of the school’s population still looked at Steve like he ruled the place. It was just another reason Barb still didn’t entirely trust Steve, even if he hung around with Jonathan more than anyone nowadays. He still hadn’t completely kicked the assholes to the curb.

“I wish you’d just give him a chance,” Nancy sighed. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation.

“Why?” Barb asked again. She felt an unfair question bubbling up out of her throat, but she couldn’t stop it in time. “Do you still like him, or something?”

“What?” Nancy stared at Barb like she’d just asked if the sky was green. “No!”

“You just seem to want to hang around him a lot, still,” Barb muttered, “Even though he’s your ex.”

“Please, we barely dated,” Nancy scoffed, but when she took in the look on Barb’s face she sobered right away. She pulled Barb aside to an empty table, looked around quickly to make sure no one was within earshot, and gently said, “You know you’re the only one I care about, Barb.”

Barb took a deep breath in, letting the oxygen and sense flood back into her brain before she spoke again. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Nancy said as they sat down. “If you don’t want to be friends with Steve, you don’t have to. But I do still think there’s more to him, when you get to know him. I just want you guys to like each other.”

Nancy had been pretty adamant about sticking close to both Jonathan and Steve in the months since they’d practically slain a dragon together. As far as Nance was concerned, there wasn’t any coming back from that. Their little foursome was bonded forever.

“Fine,” Barb sighed, just as the boy in question started making his way towards them. A curly-haired senior that liked to wear a lot of rings and band t-shirts mock-bowed at Steve as he walked past, and Barb had to hold back an appreciative snicker. She was trying, damn it.

“Thank you,” Nancy practically beamed at her, then squeezed Barb’s knee under the table. Just that small gesture had Barb seeing stars and forgetting about Steve Harrington entirely.

Later that day, Barb was getting her books gathered up so she could finally go home when Steve stopped by her locker.

“Hey,” he said, surprisingly subdued for the one everybody else around here had dubbed King.

Heeding her promise to Nancy, Barb smiled warmly and said, “Hey, Steve.”

“I was just thinking,” Steve scratched the back of his neck, and Barb was stunned to realize he was nervous. “Maybe we could hang out, just us sometime? Get to know each other better…for Nance, you know?”

“That’d be good,” Barb smiled at him, appreciative that he wanted to make the effort for Nancy too, whether she’d asked him to or not. “I—“

Barb was interrupted by a loud wolf whistle sent in their direction from none other than Tommy H. She tensed immediately, instinctively knowing whatever was coming next wouldn’t be pretty.

“Jesus, Harrington,” Tommy crowed, and every other head in that stretch of hallway swiveled to watch. “You’re still trying to get the goody-two-shoes back? By asking her dorky friend for help?”

“I’m not,” Steve said through a clenched jaw, but Carol was already laughing over him.

“Geez, Steve,” Carol sneered as she popped her chewing gum in Barb’s face. It was honestly an impressive feat, considering how Barb towered over her. Even so, Barb felt very small in her presence. “You should know the Dyke Patrol isn’t gonna help you get in Wheeler’s pants—not when she wants to be the only one down there.”

Barb felt the tips of her fingers go numb just as her face felt like it was set aflame. She became rooted to the spot, and her ears were ringing so loud she barely heard Steve’s reply.

“Shut the fuck up, Carol,” he spat, then stepped to move himself between Carol and Barb. The way Steve shielded her from the rest of the hallway gave her the space to breathe, if only in short spurts.

Tommy seemed to take offense with Steve’s stance, however, despite the fact that he hadn’t so much as brushed Carol, who still had a cloying smile on her face.

“What the fuck, man?” Tommy stepped forward in a rush and shoved Steve’s shoulder. “You’re picking the peasants over us again?”

“Yes! Because you two are assholes, and Barb is a good fucking person,” Steve seethed, easily shrugging Tommy off. “Stay away from her, and me. For good.”

A stunned hush fell over the thirty or so people who were within earshot of the whole exchange. Steve looked around at them all like he was daring them to challenge him next. When no one spoke up, he folded his arms.

“Fuck you, man,” Tommy finally said. If Barb thought he were capable of it, she might’ve thought he looked hurt as he grabbed on to Carol’s arm and dragged her away. That seemed to diffuse the bomb looming over the rest of the crowd, because they all started muttering to themselves and going back about their own business.

“I’m sorry about them—” Steve started to say, but Barb’s fight or flight instinct was kicking in a few moments too late.

“I gotta go,” she cut him off, slammed her locker door shut, and fled to her car.

Steve tried to call Barb twice that night, despite the fact that she was dodging calls from everyone who wasn’t Nancy. A few of her other almost-friends called to check on her as well, but Barb was reserving all of her social stamina for the unbearable amount of steel she’d need in her spine just to walk back into that school at all.

She thought she'd prepared herself for every curveball the day might throw her, but as Barb rushed out her front door the next morning, Steve was sitting in his car, parked at the end of her driveway.

“Want a ride?” he asked as she approached his open window with an undoubtedly bewildered look on her face.

“Um, sure?” Barb said, then tentatively climbed into the passenger’s seat. She hadn’t been in this car since things had gone to hell in a handbasket with the demogorgon. “What are you doing here, Steve?”

He looked almost guilty as he glanced over at her, then turned the key in the ignition. Steve took a while to compose whatever it was he wanted to say, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he did.

“I just know I wouldn’t want to walk in there alone, if it were me,” Steve shrugged. “But you can totally ditch me, if you want.”

Barb stared at him for a beat, completely surprised by the boy currently driving her to school in his fancy car. She was starting to think maybe Nancy had a point about him, after all.

“I don’t want to ditch you,” Barb said quietly, then stared at her hands as she listened to the Sister Sledge tape Steve had playing. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Steve gave her a small smile, then shrugged again.

“No, I mean,” Barb took in a deep breath, feeling her shoulders lift and fall with the force of it. “Thank you for what you did yesterday, too. It can’t have been easy standing up for me to your friends like that.”

“They made it a lot easier when they made it clear why I don’t want to be their friend anymore,” Steve said, seemingly brushing off what he’d done as unremarkable. “I’m just sorry I didn’t drop them sooner.”

There was another curveball, and Barb really couldn’t reconcile this new Steve sitting beside her with the one she’d built up in her mind as an unmitigated asshole.

“You really didn’t have to,” Barb said, still trying to work it out. “I mean. Who am I to you, even? The girl who stole your girlfriend.”

Steve laughed, but when he realized Barb wasn’t laughing with him, his face fell.

“Barb,” he started, then shot her a confused look. “We might not know each other all that well, but we have fought monsters together. You saved my life at least once, and I like to think I helped Nance save yours—even just a little. That makes us…well, family.”

He laughed a little at his pun and gestured to the tape deck, which is what it took for Barb to realize the joke at all. We are Family was playing.

“Family?” Barb asked with a single raised brow.

“Well, yeah,” Steve hesitated, seeming unsure again now. “If you’ll have me, anyway.”

Once again, Barb could hardly believe the left turn life had taken to get her to this point, sitting in Steve Harrington’s car and considering his assertion that they were bonded forever, somehow. And he actually looked anxious, sitting there waiting to hear her opinion of him.

“You know, I think I will,” Barb said, not wanting to leave him hanging any longer.

Steve’s smile was beaming when he said, “Good. Now turn it up, we’re almost there.”

Barb thought Steve wasn’t the kind of person that she could trust, but somehow that day they chose each other—as both brothers in arms and disco. They rolled down their windows and sang as they pulled into the parking lot, declaring their truce for everyone to see.

Nancy was waiting for them by the doors, proudly smiling at them both. She looped one arm through Barb’s, and Steve matched the gesture on her other side. Barb walked into school with her head held high, sandwiched on either side by people who loved her.

#nancy x barb #barb holland #nancy wheeler #barb x nancy #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #cw homophobia #just a lil something I did for two of my favorite girls #and my dream of Barb and Steve being bros #dani's drafts #petals!verse

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made-ofmemories · 1 year

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When Life Tears You Asunder, But You’re Not Alone

(Chapter 19/20)

General Warnings/tags:

Found family, implied Wayne/Susan in future chapters, Max & Eddie have a sibling like relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, Lumax and Steddie make appearances throughout the chapters but the primary focus is on the familial bonds between characters

Chapter specific warnings/tags: Steddie, Lumax, Susan x Wayne, Ronance, the entire gang makes and appearance this chapter (Erica and Argyle included), general found family shenanigans, tonnes of fluff, mention of period typical homophobia but again nothing aimed at the characters just an acknowledgement of it’s existence, brief mention of the aftermath of the upside down and Eddie’s scars.

Word count: 7493 (she’s a long one!)

Summary: Billy was a pretty shitty brother, there was no denying it, but Max still finds herself mourning for the sibling relationship they never got to have. With him gone she thinks so are her chances of ever having the big brother figure she’s always wanted. Then in a turn of events that she never saw coming, Eddie Munson waltzes into her life. Or more like, almost runs her over.

Notes: Well, this is it, technically this is the final chapter but we have a little epilogue planned too (hence the chapter 20 in the header) so you can look forward to that next week.

I do recommend reading on AO3 for optimal reading experience especially because this chapter is of mammoth size! We appreciate any and all comments, kudos and likes hearing what you guys think really makes our day!

Co-written with the wonderful @ladydorian05 and crossposted on AO3.

Series masterlist

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“Can I drive?” Max asks, close on Eddie’s heels as they head to the van. Lucas follows with a little more distance.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ve never been out of an empty parking lot,” Eddie states, climbing into the van without waiting to hear more of her protesting.

“I have. I’ve driven before you know.” She rolls her eyes, climbing into the passenger seat as she does. He’s been teaching her to drive since her 16th birthday a few weeks ago. He’s a surprisingly good teacher despite his own erratic driving.

“That does not count,” He says with a finger jabbed in her direction to emphasize his point.

Ok, maybe she had been a little bit too honest with her retelling of that particular story. She has no doubt Steve has shared his own retelling too, after all, it’s half the reason he’d refused to teach her how to drive and instead nominated Eddie for the job.

“Fine but I get to pick the music.” Eddie nods, satisfied with the compromise then starts the van whilst she rifles through his collection of cassette tapes.

She isn’t looking for anything in particular, but when she plucks out Berlin’s ‘take my breath away’ single from the bottom of the pile she knows exactly what they’re listening to. She’d forgotten about it in all honesty, it was months ago that he bought it and by now she had found other things to tease him about, like how disgustingly sweet he is with his boyfriend for example. She shows it to Lucas in the back seat, careful to keep it tilted out of Eddie’s view and they share a smirk before she pops the tape into the player.

“Seriously?” Eddie glances away from the road long enough to give her a scathing glare and a single raised eyebrow.

She responds only by bursting into song, singing along to the lyrics of the chorus in a mocking tone. Lucas joins in a few seconds later once he realizes what’s going on.

“Are you done?” Eddie asks once their singing has ceased and dissolved into a shared fit of giggles.

“Does Steve know you have this?” Max asks, rewinding the tape before she puts it back, he’s chastised her enough times for leaving unwound tapes laying around that it’s become a habit at this point.

“No. And he isn’t going to find out.” He tells her pointedly, “Is he?”

“Hmmm, that depends. How much is my silence worth to you?”

“Was that blackmail?” Eddie says, incredulous, “Are you trying to blackmail me? Is that what’s happening right now?”

“Yes.” She doesn’t try to pretend otherwise.

“Unbelievable.” He scoffs, as though this is not incredibly on brand for her, he really should know better by now, “Alright, what do you want?”

“Five bucks, each.” She bargains, “Those fairground rides are expensive.”

“You’re something else, you know that Red?” He says, a strange mixture of pride and disbelief coloring his voice. “I don’t even celebrate the 4th of July. I’m just here for Steve… and cotton candy, but mostly Steve,” he mutters.

They turn down the track that leads to the annual 4th of July fair, it’s more mud than road and it’s a bumpy journey. Eddie pulls out his wallet and hands over 2 five dollar bills once he's parked. Max hands one to Lucas and they both pocket their earnings quickly before he has a chance to change his mind.

The rest of the gang is waiting for them when they get out of the van. Max can’t even remember the last time they all got to hang out like this. Nancy and Jonathan have been back for a few weeks now and even Argyle has flown in from California for the week. Max hadn’t gotten the chance to meet him after the Vecna incident last year, but Will seems to like him and Max trusts his judgment.

Nancy is talking to Robin, they started dating officially a few days after Nancy returned for summer break and they’ve been inseparable since. Jonathan is with most of the younger ones, including Erica, except for Dustin who is interrogating Steve about something whilst Steve leans against the side of his car looking unamused. His face brightens when he sees Eddie.

Steve and Eddie share a hug that lasts just a little bit too long and Eddie steals a quick and chaste kiss that has Steve looking over his shoulder. It’s already dark out and the ‘parking lot’ for the fair isn’t much more than a field, the only lighting coming from the neon lighting of the attractions behind them, it’s secluded, no one can see them other than their friends and everyone has long crossed that bridge.

Max understands Steve’s paranoia regardless, she doesn’t even think it’s his own reputation he’s so worried about, that’s something that Steve hasn’t cared about in a long time. But, it would be Eddie who would take the brunt of the aftermath if some idiotic, small-town homophobe saw them and Max appreciates him looking out for her brother. God knows he needs it, she’s witnessed his lack of self-preservation firsthand.

“Gross,” Max says, pushing her glasses back up with a sour expression as she passes by the pair of them. She can’t have them knowing how much she actually cares. Eddie flips her off and Steve laughs.

The larger group dissipates once they’re inside the fairground. Steve tries in vain to wrangle the younger ones for a while before giving up and settling for telling them to be careful as they rush off in different directions.

Max heads for the fairground rides with Erica, Mike, Will, Lucas, and Dustin. El is slightly more reluctant, but Robin assures her she can stay with her and Nancy. Robin doesn’t trust those things either. Jonathan and Argyle head for the corndog stand and Steve drags Eddie off toward the selection of carnival games.

The five dollars from Eddie as well as the money she’s been saving from her allowance gets them through the majority of the carnival rides, even with Dustin insisting they all ride the roller coaster twice. He’s trying to convince them all a third time when Max wraps her hand around Lucas’ wrist and gestures with a nod of her head for them to split from the rest of the group.

“I want to save some money. I heard they have skee-ball here this year,” She explains.

Lucas is happy to follow her, until they’re walking past the ferris wheel and he comes to an abrupt stop. It was one of the few they hadn’t been on, too slow and unexciting for the others to want to bother with it. Lucas is looking at it now with wide eyes and a hopeful expression Max knows she won’t be able to say no to.

“What do you say?” He asks looking between the wheel and Max, “Just one ride, I can pay for both of us if you want to save your money for skee-ball.”

He’s trying to convince her, but she’s already made up her mind.

“Are you scared of heights?” They’re about halfway up when Lucas mentions it.

“No,” She replies stubbornly.

She isn’t… not really. But they are very high up, the carriage is swaying more than she would like and the flimsy metal bar across their laps doesn’t feel like it would do much to prevent them from plummeting down to the ground below.

Lucas lifts his arm and she scoots under it, not because she’s scared. She isn’t, but there’s a breeze this high up and it adds a chill to the air. The striped tank top and denim shorts she’s wearing to combat the summer heat don’t help either. She’s cold, that’s all.

The view from the top of the wheel is worth it, the sparkle of the lights below them, the contrast of the darkness of the forest around them, and the faint glow of town in the distance. It’s pretty, in its own way, when there aren’t other dimensional beings trying to tear the place apart. Max is still glad when she has both feet planted firmly on the ground.

Eddie and Nancy are sitting on a bench by the food stalls when Lucas and Max find them. They hadn’t been looking for them, just passing by on their way to find the skee-ball booth, but they stop and Max slots herself onto the bench of the picnic table next to Eddie. Lucas joins Nancy on the other side. There’s a stuffed bear on the table between them, but Max isn’t sure who it belongs to.

“Where are the others?” Max asks, already eyeing the excessively large cone of cotton candy Eddie is eating, Nancy has a small handful likely procured from said cone.

“El went off with Will and Erica,” Eddie says, his lips and tongue stained a vibrant shade of blue from the candy, “Steve and Robin are over there.”

“Robin bet Steve that he couldn’t beat her at the ring toss,” Nancy adds with a small smirk on her face.

Max cranes her neck to look, judging by the very heated conversation they seem to be having in front of the booth, she’d say it’s not going too well. Steve slaps another bill onto the counter and they start again.

“Hey, can I have some?” She’s looking at Eddie’s cotton candy and he stares back at her with an expression that says ‘I can’t believe you would dare ask me that’. He’s always protective over his food, especially when it comes to candy, she always gets her way anyway.

“No.”

She rolls her eyes at him for the second and likely not the last time that evening and grabs a handful anyway. He makes a weak noise of protest, but doesn’t actually do anything to stop her then sighs in defeat and looks to Lucas, now the only one without any candy and reluctantly tilts the cone in his direction so he can grab some.

“Oh, that’s ok I-”

“Take the damn candy before I change my mind, Sinclair.”

The cotton candy is long gone, shared between the four of them, by the time Steve and Robin return. Robin is holding a stuffed elephant which she triumphantly sets onto the table before she squishes onto the bench next to Lucas.

“You didn’t win that did you?” Nancy asks, all soft smiles and amusement.

“No. I did not,” Robin says, sounding no less proud.

“Wait-” Steve says, narrowing his eyes. He’s taken a seat beside Max, squishing her between him and Eddie so tightly she can barely move her arms without elbowing one of them in the ribs. The benches really aren’t meant for 3 people to sit comfortably, “Was that whole thing just a scheme to get me to win that stupid elephant for you?”

She gasps, covering the ears of the stuffed elephant as if it might somehow overhear, at this point sentient stuffies wouldn’t even be that surprising, “Her name is Ellie and she is not stupid,” Robin informs him with mock offense, “But yeah, me and Nancy spent like 5 bucks trying to win that thing,” she admits, seeming unphased. She reaches over in front of a chuckling Lucas and holds out her hand to Nancy who high-fives her.

“You know you could have just asked.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Steve! Steve!” Dustin calls, rushing towards them with the others close behind him before Steve can say anything else.

Max feels Steve’s whole body tense beside her. It doesn’t take much work to figure out why. It’s the first time they’ve tried to enjoy the holiday after the mind flayer. Last year they had bunkered down in the Wheeler’s basement with the volume on the radio turned up as loud as it would go to drown out the sound of the fireworks. Max tried to forget as much of that day as possible, all it did was stir up bad memories and the grief she was only just beginning to come to terms with. Steve relaxes almost instantly when Dustin asks for money.

“Seriously, Henderson? This is exactly why I told you to save up for today!”

“And I did, but we had to test how many times we could ride the rollercoaster before feeling sick,” He explains and Max grimaces glad she and Lucas left when they did, “And I forgot I told Suzie I would win something for her”

Suzie was visiting in a few weeks time, just before the end of summer break, thanks to some inventive planning on Argyle and Eden's behalf. Dustin hasn’t stopped talking about it ever since the idea was brought up.

“You should have thought about that before spending all your money on a single ride.”

“I didn’t spend it all!”

“Then why are you asking me for money?”

“Because, unlike some people, it’s going to take me more than 2 tries to win anything at all.”

“Alright, come on.” Steve lets out a huff, looks over to Max and Eddie with a ‘can you believe this guy?’ expression before he stands, finally giving Max some room to breathe again, “I’ll give you some pointers, I don’t want to end the night with an empty wallet.”

They all know he’s going to be leaving with an empty wallet regardless. They’ve all spent their money on carnival rides and games. Soon they’ll get hungry and it’ll be Steve who makes sure everyone is fed.

“Well, we’re off to look for the skee-ball stand,” Max says standing up from the bench. Steve and Dustin have left to find a ‘suitable gift’ among the many game stalls and attempt to win it for Suzie and Nancy has dragged Robin by the hand towards the booth selling caramel apples, “Let’s go Lucas.”

“I think I saw it that way, Red,” Eddie says pointing in the opposite direction Dustin and Steve took before Mike is grabbing at his sleeve, attempting to tug him along with him and Erica. Eddie glares at him, there was a time that might have worked and Mike would have withdrawn as if he’d been burnt, but not anymore.

“Come on Eddie, let’s go to the Haunted house.”

“Jesus kid. You survived actual real monsters and you still want to go inside a fake haunted house?”

“They’re just losers in makeup, how scary can they be?” Erica says joining Mike in the ‘Pull on Eddie’s sleeves’ game.

“Jeez alright, alright. Stop pulling on my clothes. But you’re taking the fall if I end up punching someone on instinct.”

Eddie turns to look at El and Max’s gaze follows. She looks uncertain and it occurs to Max that it’s unlikely she knows anything about the fake haunted houses found at fairs like this one, designed to scare people for fun. Her only experience with a haunted house is probably the very real creel house and that hadn’t exactly been a fun time for any of them. Now Eddie is talking about monsters, something they all, but especially El, have had enough of for a lifetime it’s understandable that she’d be uncertain.

“Here El, could you hold onto Samwise for me?” Eddie hands El the stuffed bear, which she receives with a smile, “Keep him safe for me in there Supergirl.” So it was Eddie’s bear after all.

“You can come play skee-ball with us if you want to, El. We’ll try to get the biggest prize they have,” Lucas suggests.

“What is skee-ball?” El asks, sounding confused. “Is it like basketball?”

She has played basketball before, with Steve and Lucas, in the outdoor community court they usually practiced in. But she hadn’t been much of a fan and soon joined Max and Will on the sidelines with their comic books, they refused to play too for the most part instead opting for the role of ‘moral support’.

“Oh, you’re definitely coming with us now.” Max smiles, linking one of her arms with El’s, “How have we been friends this long but I haven’t introduced you to skee-ball?”

“What about you Will the wise?” Eddie asks, “It’s fine if you’d rather play Skee-ball.”

“I’m good with going to the haunted house, I want to know if they’ve finally fixed the twitchy animatronics.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s find out! Lead the way, Will the wise!” Eddie pulls Will towards him in a one-armed hug. “Red, El, Lucas,” He calls before they can sneak off, “Do you remember where the reunion point is?”

“The picnic tables by the food stalls.” The three of them answer together, Max makes sure to say it in a petulant tone. Steve has repeated it enough times by now that she thinks the words are ingrained into her brain for the rest of eternity, it’s probably the only reason Eddie brought it up.

“Good! Onwards, my hobbits! To the house of horrors!”

“Hobbit?” Erica asks, unamused. Max hears the beginning of her spiel about how she’s an elf if anything, that he should know better, but they don’t get far before the din of the crowd around them drowns out the rest of the conversation.

They find the skee-ball stall relatively easily. It’s one of the larger booths, full of flashing lights and a selection of huge stuffed animals almost as large as Max displayed above the machines, there are some smaller prizes scattered around the stall too, some hanging from the walls and others stacked neatly in rows atop any available surface.

El picks up the rules quickly after a brief explanation from Max and they hand over the money for their first game.

“Do you want me to hold Samwise?” Max asks, gesturing to the stuffed bear El is still hugging close to her chest when she steps up to take her turn after watching Lucas and Max’s technique carefully.

“No. That’s ok. Eddie asked me to take care of him.”

El turns out to have pretty good aim, but even between the three of them, they struggle to wrack up more than a couple of hundred points each game.

“It’s all in the wrist,” Lucas insists, not for the first time, as El prepares to take her turn. They’ve blown through almost all of their money and all they’ve managed to win is a pink piggy bank that feels like it might break if you so much as look at it funny, a bottle of bubble solution plus bubble wand, a stress ball, and the best one yet, a small plushie of a panda that’s also a coin purse. El called dibs on that one, placing it inside the right pocket of her shorts.

“I swear this thing is rigged!” Max complains.

They are gathered a few feet away from the stall to assess how much money they have left between the three of them, it isn’t much, and then comes the dilemma of whether or not it was worth spending the last of their cash trying in vain to get something better than one of the smaller cheap prizes.

“Max, most carnival games are rigged.” Lucas offers her the stress ball, but she just looks down at it and then back at him with a deadpan expression. Really?

“I know, but with 5 balls per game they all need to go inside the big numbers to get any of the good prizes!” Max exclaims, “They knew what they were doing when they made the best prize 500 points!”

“Maybe we can try again, just once more.”

“It’s useless, we’ll just get more cheap prizes. It’s a miracle we got that coin purse.” She turns to gesture to it, El has been holding onto it and Samwise the bear since they won it, but she isn’t there, “Wait, where’s El?”

“What? She’s- Holy shit. She was just here. Steve is going to kill us, he’s been preaching his buddy system all night long and we just lost El!”

“Forget about Steve, the Chief is going to kill us if anything happens to her!”

He was already nervous about letting her out without him or Joyce around, especially somewhere as crowded as this and on tonight of all nights. Max is pretty sure it had taken a lot of sweet talking from Jonathan and Steve as well as some begging from Will and El herself for him to finally agree to it.

“She’ll be ok. She knows how to look after herself,” Lucas assures her though she thinks it might be more for his own sake than hers, “We just need to think. What could possibly get her attention enough to separate from us?”

“Look around, Lucas! Have you seen this place? She loves everything in here,” Max says, exasperated. They’re never going to find her. She just hopes it’s not Steve who runs into her first, otherwise Lucas might be right, he really will kill them before Hopper even gets a chance.

“Shit, you’re right.” Lucas opens his mouth, about to start screaming El’s name but he stops when suddenly there’s a commotion coming from the Skee-ball stall.

“WE HAVE A WINNER!!” One of the people attending the stall shouts before turning to get the huge plushie El is pointing at down from its spot dangling from the ceiling,“Here you go young lady.”

“Thank you.”

That’s when they see El, a tissue held to her nose with one hand, she has Samwise tucked under the same arm as she uses the other to reach out and accept her prize.

“You sure you’re okay kid? There’s a first aid tent close to the mechanic bull,” The man behind the stall is saying as they get closer.

“I’m sure, thank you. I get them a lot.”

“El!” Lucas exclaims, a beaming smile on his face. Max isn’t far behind.

“She’s with us we’ll make sure she gets checked out,” Max lies to the stall attendant, she already knows what actually caused the nosebleed, the guy seems to believe her though which is good enough for her.

“By the way, good technique kid.”

“It’s all in the wrist,” El repeats Lucas’ advice with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

They duck down one of the alleyways between stalls until they find a more secluded area away from the fuss of the carnival before they finally explode with the excitement they’ve been fighting down.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe you just did that!” Max shrieks, her smile so wide it makes her cheeks hurt.

“You said they are rigged, that means they are cheating, right?”

“Right,” Lucas confirms, he has a smile to match Max’s.

“So, if they are cheating, I can cheat too.” El says, shrugging her shoulders, “Just don’t tell my dad.”

“We swear, El.” Lucas says laughing in disbelief.

“Here,” El struggles for a moment with the big, green and yellow dragon plush “you can have it Max.”

“But, you won it.”

“Because you wanted it.” El says with a big smile.

“Well, yeah, but not for me. When I saw it was a dragon I knew Eddie would like it.” She admits bashfully.

“Then give it to Eddie. I also think he will like it.”

“Thank you, El” Max doesn’t know what she ever did to deserve a friend as sweet as El, but she is truly thankful to have her in her life, “C’mon let's go find the others.”

El is having fun blowing bubbles on the way to the meeting point, occasionally passing the tube over to Max who will take her turn to blow some bubbles before handing it back. Lucas is carrying the obnoxiously large plushie on his back as they weave their way through the crowds.

“Hey,” Steve waves them over once he sees them approaching.

They’ve moved two tables together to make a single long one. Nancy and Robin are sharing a basket of cheese fries, next to them Steve is slurping a slushie, on the other side of the table Dustin is eating a burger. Max can tell even from the distance that he’s talking with his mouth full. Some things never change. Jonathan and Argyle seem preoccupied with mixing about 4 different kinds of food.

“Have you eaten yet?” Steve asks as the three of them take their seats on the benches. El slots in next to Robin and Nancy, Max and Lucas make Dustin budge up towards Jonathan and Argyle and take a seat next to him.

“Not yet,” El replies, Max and Lucas shake their heads.

“That won’t do, alright, What do you shitheads want?” Steve asks looking at Lucas and Max, “You too El, what do you want?”

“Burger with fries!” Lucas is the first to answer.

“A corn dog! No, wait, make that two. Don’t forget the ketchup.” Max adds.

“It wouldn’t kill you to say please, guys.” Steve mutters.

“Do they have Eggos?”

“I don’t think so. But they might have waffles. Anything else you want if they don’t?”

“Umm,” El thinks for a bit, “Corn dog? Please.”

Robin stands and follows Steve over to the food stalls without a single word passed between the two of them. She returns with two corn dogs in hand for Max and Steve follows closely after with Lucas’ burger in one hand and the plate of waffles topped with strawberries and whipped cream in the other.

“It’s not an Eggo extravaganza, but I asked for extra whipped cream,” Steve says, placing the styrofoam plate in front of her.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“No problem, kiddo.” They dig into their food with gusto, chatting amongst themselves as they wait for the others. Max ends up sharing one of her corndogs with El in exchange for a chunk of waffle and cream.

“There they are!” They hear before they see Eddie approaching them. Erica, Will and Mike, laughing behind him. “You guys won’t believe what happened!”

“I’m pretty sure you’re about to tell us anyway,” Nancy says with a smile.

“And you’d be right. We got kicked out of the haunted house!”

“They can do that?” Dustin asks, licking his fingers, Steve gives him a look and tosses a napkin at him.

“Apparently,” Will answers, taking a seat next to El.

“But why did they kick you guys out?” Robin asks, her chin resting in her hand as she leans against the table.

“They didn’t seem to like that we were laughing at them instead of screaming,” Erica explains, sitting beside Lucas and stealing a fry from his paper plate.

“Hey! Hands off!” Lucas scolds, batting her hand away. She reaches over and steals a handful in retaliation.

“You’ve been taking good care of him for me?” Eddie asks, reaching over to tug one of Samwise the bear’s ears.

El nods, “We got something for you,” She says looking at Max across the table.

Max nudges Lucas who gets the hint and helps her lift the huge plushie from behind them onto the table. It isn’t heavy, but it does take some maneuvering to get it onto the table without knocking any of the empty plates off.

“El won it playing skee-ball,” Max explains.

“We want you to have it though,” El clarifies.

Eddie takes the enormous plushie and inspects it with a smile, “His name will be Smaug,” He announces. Steve shakes his head with a fond smile apparently not without Eddie noticing, “It’s from-”

“The Hobbit, I know, you made me read the books, remember?” Steve asks.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, sweetheart. I know you loved them.”

“Oh my god, you’ve turned him into a nerd,” Robin teases with a fake gasp.

“One of us! One of us!” Dustin chants, banging a fist against the table, Mike, Lucas, and Will join in a second later.

“Alright, alright, knock it off buttheads,” Steve says, raising his voice and kicking at Dustin's shin under the table.

“Jesus, careful with the goods, Steve.” Dustin grumbles.

“Are you done, Henderson?” Steve asks with a glare that Dustin seems to take as a challenge as he narrows his own eyes in return.

“Alright,” Robin says, slamming both hands down on the table, the noise is loud enough that both Steve and Dustin’s attentions snap to her as well as a few others, “That’s enough of whatever that was,” She gestures between Steve and Dustin who are giving her petulant looks in return, “Steve, the others haven’t eaten yet, maybe we should go get some food, yeah?”

Steve, ever the mother hen, agrees without hesitation. Everyone lapses back into a familiar kind of easy chatter whilst those who hadn’t eaten earlier do so. Lucas steals a handful of fries to replace the ones she had taken from him earlier and at the other end of the table, Jonathan and Argyle are creating chaos with their latest food creation.

“Come on, Mike, just a taste.” Jonathan insists, pushing what looks to be a corn dog covered in whipped cream and sprinkled with crushed nachos and waffle, or maybe it’s churros Max can’t tell and has no desire to find out.

“Ándale, mijo! Just a little bite.”

“No way, the sweet-to-salty ratio is way off!”

“That’s what you said about the pizza,” El reminds him, “and you liked that.”

“Yeah, it’s not that bad,” Eddie comments, twirling an empty corn dog stick between them as he talks, “Live a little, Mike.”

“Of course, you would like it,” Max scrunches up her nose, her top lip curling just a little.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a human garbage disposal.”

Eddie splutters out an indignant noise of protest, but Steve chimes in before he gets a chance to form any kind of coherent words.

“She has a point.”

“Who’s side are you on?” Eddie asks and Steve only shrugs in response.

“Hey,” Nancy says in an attempt to get their attention, “Guys!”

She places two fingers into her mouth and whistles, loudly. It works, earning her the attention of everyone except for Argyle and Eddie. The pair of them had become fast friends, to the surprise of absolutely no one.

“The fireworks will be starting soon, we still have time to make it back to our basement if we leave now,” She explains.

There’s silence, eyes flickering from face to face but no one dares to speak up until Jonathan finally breaks the ice.

“It’s your call guys, but no one here is going to judge you for wanting to leave.”

Max knows he’s right. They’ve been trying to reclaim some of the things the Upside down had taken from them piece by piece, whether that was finally being able to hang Christmas lights for the festive season again or just being here celebrating the 4th of July.

It was a slow process. Steve still had panic attacks wherever the lights would flicker unexpectedly, some nights Will couldn’t sleep without a nightlight, and there were days when Eddie refused to look at his own reflection because the sight of the scars littering his body brought back memories he wishes he could forget. Max still had her own struggles too, the nightmares weren’t as frequent but they were just as intense whenever they did make an appearance.

“We should vote,” Steve suggests, “but if we’re going to stay it has to be unanimous.”

There’s a chorus of agreement and nodding heads in response. Steve makes them all close their eyes when they vote, all 13 hands raise when he asks who wants to stay.

“It’s settled then, we stay,” Erica says, once Steve gives the go-ahead for them to open their eyes. She stands up, “Come on then, what are we waiting for? We need to find a good place to watch from. I swear if the mobs take all the good places one of you losers is lifting me on your shoulders so I can watch.”

They find a spot a little way out from the center of the carnival attractions, atop a small incline. It’s a good spot, perhaps not the best, but it has the added bonus of no one else being around.

Lucas’ grip on her hand tightens at the first explosion, “Are you ok?” She leans over to whisper and drops the issue when he nods. He knows he can tell her the truth, can tell them all the truth, after all, who have they got if not each other? No one else is going to believe them when they start talking about interdimensional monsters and super-powered children.

The display only lasts a few minutes and they leave soon after once it’s established everyone is ok. They say their goodbyes as they all part ways towards their assigned vehicles. Jonathan, Eddie, Nancy, and Steve are the designated drivers, Lucas leaves with Erica, Mike, and Robin in Nancy’s car and the others split between Steve and Jonathan's cars.

Jonathan and Nancy are parked the closest to the carnival grounds and their groups separate from the others first, leaving Steve, Eddie, Max, and Dustin to search for their vehicles. After a brief moment of confusion ending in the four of them wandering in circles, Dustin insisting they parked in one direction and Steve insisting it was the other way, the cars are finally in sight.

“Hey, Red,” Eddie calls on the approach to the van, he’s a few steps ahead of her with Smaug hoisted onto his back in something resembling a piggyback. He moves both of the plushy's stuffed front legs into one hand and digs through the pocket of his jeans with the other. He turns to face her, “catch.”

“Are you serious?” She asks through a bright smile when the keys to the van land in her hands.

“Gotta get out on the roads eventually right?” He asks, still walking backward.

“Hey, can I drive?” Dustin asks Steve. Max knows he’s been teaching him, but given the expression on Steve’s face, she thinks he trusts him even less than Eddie trusts her when it comes to driving.

“Not today, Henderson.”

Dustin is about to protest but is cut off by Eddie causing a commotion when he almost trips over El who is standing by the van. She is most definitely not meant to be there.

“I forgot to return Samwise,” She explains, holding out the bear. It hasn’t left her arms the entire night.

“You know what,” Eddie says, gently pushing the bear back towards her and sparing a glance at Steve. Max watches an entire conversation she can’t decipher pass through a single glance before Eddie turns back to El, “Why don’t you keep him?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, now go on, Jonathan will worry if you’re not back soon.”

“Thanks, Eds!”

They hang back until they see her climb into Jonathan's car, or rather Joyce’s car that Jonathan had borrowed, it's just visible through the maze of other cars. Steve and Dustin leave and Max climbs into the driver’s seat of the van while Eddie places Smaug in the back.

She’s way more relaxed about pulling out of the parking lot and onto the busy streets of Hawkins, well as busy as they can be in their small town, than she thought she’d be when the actual moment arrived. Eddie is less relaxed, he’s trying to hide it, but the stiff set of his shoulders and the fact that they’ve been driving for more than a few minutes without some kind of music blaring through the speakers gives it away.

The roads quieten once they’re off the main street and away from the chaos of the carnival grounds and Eddie relaxes considerably, finally reaching over to mess with the stereo. He ejects the last tape they listened to on the drive to the carnival and Max hears the telltale sound of plastic cassette cases clattering against each other as he searches for a new one.

He’s placing the newly selected tape into the stereo and she knows she should keep her eyes on the road, but she wants to know which one he chose and it’s not like they’ve passed any other cars for a while now anyway. A quick glance won’t hurt.

At first, she can’t quite figure out what’s different, but there’s something about Eddie’s left hand that’s making some noise in the back of her mind. He always wears the same jewelry and she starts to go through a mental checklist of it all. Leather strap and woven wristbands on his wrist? Check. One, two, three, four rings? Che- Wait a minute…Four rings? He only wears three on his left hand.

And sure enough, right there, a small shiny black skull is adorning his pinky. It’s plastic unlike the others, but it doesn’t look out of place.

“That one’s new.” Max mutters under her breath.

“Huh? Did you say something, Max?” Shit, for once she wishes he had cranked up the speakers to the usual deafening volume.

“When did you get a new ring?”

“What?”

“The new ring. On your left hand, pinky finger.” She glances over and takes one hand off the wheel to point.

“Whoa! Eyes on the road, Mayfield and both hands on the wheel. Don’t make me ask you to pull over.”

“Okay! Okay! Jesus, no need to get your panties in a twist,” She huffs, making a dramatic show of placing her hand firmly back onto the wheel, “But seriously, when did you get it?”

“Uh, today.”

“You won it?”

“Noo.”

“If you didn’t win it then wher- Oh, Steve won it for you, didn’t he?” It’s more of a statement than a question, she already knows the answer just from the brief glance she manages to steal at his expression without being scolded for taking her eyes off the road again. “When did he even give it to you? You didn’t have it when we re-grouped to eat.”

“That’s nona.”

“Really? Nona my business?” She scoffs, “How mature. Was it before or during the fireworks? I bet it was during, Steve seems romantic like that.”

“Wha- what didn’t Lucas give you something?” It’s a clear attempt to avoid her question, which is an answer in itself. She was definitely right.

“He let me keep the stress ball and a piggy bank that didn’t survive the night.”

“Damn, I thought he’d be better at those games than the others.”

“Don’t judge him, that Skee-ball was hella rigged and we spent too much on the rides.”

“All of the games are rigged, Red.”

“Lucas said the same thing!”

“He’d be right. Wait, so… How did Supergirl manage to win Smaug?” She gives him a look and a tilt of her head, “Aaaah, her powers?” She nods, “Damn, what an advantage.”

“I’m glad we stayed for the fireworks. Today was a good day.” She catches Eddie’s nod from the corner of her eye, “Also I- I know I didn’t say anything earlier but I wanted to say thank you. For coming to the cemetery with me this morning. I know he was an asshole, but-” She stalls, spluttering out a few half words as she tries to organize her thoughts.

Two years on and she likes to think she’s started to come to terms with Billy’s death. The guilt no longer gnaws at her and she can think about him without a pit forming in her stomach.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Red. I get it, and you’re welcome, it was no problem.”

Max parks the van in its usual spot outside of Eddie’s trailer side by side with Wayne’s old truck. Eddie has to remind her about the parking brake, but other than that she thinks she does a pretty good job.

Wayne and Susan are across the road on the porch of the Mayfield’s trailer. Max already knew her mom was going to wait up for her, Wayne must have decided to keep her company. There’s two empty plates stacked on the little plastic table between them.

“They seem to be doing that a lot lately.”

“Huh? What? Who?”

“My mom and Wayne, hanging out,” Max points out, “Do you think they might have something going on?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie hums, “but I think Wayne likes her, as in more than a frie-”

“Please don’t say it. It’s weird, she’s my mom.”

“You’d be opposed?”

“I mean… If they get together and everything goes well, we'd have to live together.” She says feigning disgust, “I don’t know if I could put up with seeing your face every day.”

“Ha. Ha, Mayfield.” He punches her right arm softly, “You already put up with me every day by choice,” he reminds her, it’s true they’ve barely gone more than a day without interacting in some way for months now, “But seriously, would you be against it?”

She thinks about it for a moment, considering her answer.

“Not really,” she sighs, “I mean, I know Wayne is a good dude,”

“The best of dudes.”

“And we’ve already kind of adopted each other as siblings,”

“Naturally.”

“Stop interrupting and let me finish, you shithead!” she exclaims in exasperation, “My point is, I just want her to be happy and if Wayne makes her happy, who am I to go against it?”

“Her daughter, Max. And I’m sure she’ll care a lot about your opinion.” she hums in contemplation.

“I’m not calling Wayne dad, though.” She scrunches her nose up and Eddie bursts out laughing.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think he’d ask you to call him that. Besides, it’ll probably be weirder for him if you ever did.”

“Let’s get out of here, I’m tired,” Max says and Eddie follows without protest. He grabs Smaug from the back of the van and follows her over to her trailer.

“Eddie finally let me drive, like, actually drive out on the streets,” Max announces to Wayne and her mom without greeting.

“That’s great, sweetheart!” Susan says with a gentle smile.

“How was the Carnival? You kids had fun?” Wayne asks.

“Same old. Overpriced food, rigged games, rides with questionable security measures.” Eddie shrugs, “It was good!”

“I hope you have savings Wayne, ‘cus I’m sure Steve is one step closer to proposing to Eddie.”

Susan had known about Steve and Eddie for a while now. Max was a little nervous about it when he first told her his plan, but she didn’t have anything to worry about in the end. Her mom had congratulated him and pulled him in for a hug that Eddie clung to for as long as he could.

“Max!” Eddie hisses.

“Now what’s that about?”

“He won a ring for Eddie, show him, show him!”

Eddie groans and makes a fuss about it, but slips off the too-small ring and tosses it to Wayne who catches it with ease. He makes a show of inspecting it as if he’s an expert jeweler, even going as far as to take his glasses out of his shirt’s pocket.

“Well, it’s a little on the cheap side, but it’s your style. Steve’s on a good path.” He tosses the ring back and Eddie puts it on again, “You can tell him he doesn’t need to come ask for your hand. I approve.”

“Do you think he’s proposing with a silver or a gold band?” Max asks

“50 bucks says it’ll be gold,” Wayne says, sounding confident in his decision.

“Are you for real?” Eddie looks between them in disbelief, “You’re really betting on my love life now?”

“You’re on, I say it’ll be silver!” Max adds, completely ignoring Eddie and his protests.

“You two are forgetting one crucial bit of information,” Eddie points out, ”it’s illegal, we can’t get married.”

“That’s besides the point, Eddie.” Max says with a sigh, as if he’s being the unreasonable one here.

“How is that besides the point!?”

“I think it’ll be silver… with some kind of black or dark stone.” Susan chimes in.

“I’m doomed. That’s it, I’ve heard enough. I’m going to sleep.” He turns around making his way towards his trailer.

“Oh, come on son!” Wayne calls, just barely holding back a laugh.

“Nope! From now on, Smaug here is the only one I trust to have my back!” He shouts holding the dragon above his head, “Goodnight to you bunch of meddlers!”

“10 bucks says he’ll be back in 5 minutes,” Max says to Wayne with a grin.

“You’re on, kiddo.”

She wins that bet when Eddie comes back asking if anyone else is feeling hungry, despite the amount of food he had inhaled at the fair, Max doesn’t know how he does it sometimes.

They move inside, the four of them crowded into the too-small living space. A hodgepodge mixture of people that somehow come together to make a family. She never thought she’d be so thankful for Eddie almost hitting her with his van all those months ago.

#stranger things #steddie #lumax #eddie munson #Max Mayfield #Lucas Sinclair #steve harrington #Nancy Wheeler #robin buckley #fruity four #el hopper

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qqueenofhades · 4 years

Note

Thank you for your answer to my last ask! Just sort of carrying on from that, what do you think about how they should cover medieval queerness in a potential prequel? I read your post about the deep relationships between knights which was really interesting. I guess what I'm asking is what would "Period-typical Homophobia" for Nicky and Joe actually be? Thank you for educating us better than school does.

Okay, I’m gonna come in here with a Scorching Hot Take that may ruffle some feathers, but possibly... none?

If the point of including casual homophobia or homophobic references is literally just for the sake of evoking some supposed Medieval Bigotry for ~Le Atmosphere Of Dark Age, there is a) no point to it, and b) not much historical evidence either. People love to point out that we didn’t have the modern identity labels of “gay,” “lesbian,” “bisexual,” etc. in the olden days -- well, in that case, we don’t have modern homophobia either, or reactions to those behaviors in the same way. We don’t even have much textual evidence for how ordinary people (outside clerical/religious elites, who would be predisposed to disapprove, just like the religious right today) reacted to so-called “queerness” in their communities, and the circumstantial evidence we DO have suggested that it was far from any imagined universal experience of rejection and isolation. Besides, what we call “queer” due to fragile modern heteronormativty and toxic masculinity was actually intensely normal for medieval people.

One of the tiresome arguments that Straight Historians tend to use, when queer historians are arguing for a queer, romantic, or sexual relationship between two people of the same gender (usually men, because that’s who mostly appears in our sources), is that “friendship was a lot more romantic/intimate/emotional/physical in nature back then!!! They’re not gay They’re Just Pals!!” This is actually true, in that medieval men, far from this Iron Man No Homo No Emotions trope that (once again) we ourselves have come up with, were encouraged (as I wrote about in my gay knights post) to love each other almost, if not quite, beyond reason. There was so much crying, kissing, embracing, tender declarations of loyalty, etc (see: Is It Gay or Is It Feudalism?) Any of those behaviors would make the modern viewer go “lololol HOMOSEXUAL!!!”, but it’s not even always the case? The standards of physical affection, vows of devotion, and close emotional bonds even between platonic friends were just different, and while yes, there was a corresponding anxiety about this attachment turning sexual, the fact that it was considered as a worry in the first place shows you how intense these bonds could be. So while the modern viewer may see two men acting like that and go “oh no gay cooties,” this just wouldn’t raise any eyebrows at all to a medieval person, and hence they’re not going to come back with some dumb manufactured homophobic comment.

Next, in re Joe and Nicky specifically: I SORELY long for a scene in this imaginary prequel where after something romantic has happened between them for the first time, Nicky understandably freaks out a little and goes to confession. There is one other guy in front of him, and a bored priest who is not very good at his job. Guy In Front of Nicky (we’ll call him Guy) goes into the booth and kneels. Priest looks at him, doesn’t even ask. “Oh, is it sodomy again? Fine, seven days fasting bread and water, say two decades of the rosary, Ego te absolvo in nomine Patris -- ”

Waiting outside the booth, Nicky can hear this (since remember this priest is Bad at his Job and has apparently never met the concept of confessional confidentiality in his life) and sags in relief a little. Oh sodomy isn’t that bad, right, it’s a venial sin, no big --

“Father,” says Guy, “I confess that I have also consorted with a Saracen in search of a magical remedy.”

(We don’t gender the Saracen, because we don’t believe in supporting stereotypes, and since it’s established Guy is into Kinky Stuff, you never know.)

Priest LOSES HIS SHIT.

“You WHAAAAAAAT? CONSORTING WITH A SARACEN FOR MAGIC!! THIS IS A TERRIBLE SIN!!! YOU NEED TO REPENT IMMEDIATELY!!!”

Cut back to Nicky. OH SHIT!!! Sodomy not bad, he could deal with that. Consorting with a Saracen?? OH SON YOU’RE DOOMED. SODOMY WITH A SARACEN??? OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO HELL!

Cue Nicky’s silent existential crisis Dying in the background while the priest lectures Guy to within an inch of his life. Finally, Guy decides fuck this priest (not like that, this is not Fleabag) and scuttles out. A thoroughly terrified Nicky thinks about following him, but since the priest has already seen him, he can’t flee. He goes into the booth and kneels down, Quaking.

“What have you come to confess, my son?”

Nicky.exe has stopped working.

“.....jealousy.”

You get the idea. And guess what? This would be COMPLETELY accurate, because if we were using, say, Burchard of Worms’ Decretum, an early 11th-century handbook advising priests what penalties to give to various sins, that’s basically how it’s treated. Sodomy is blown over briefly with the other venial sins as a certain amount of days fasting on bread and water, while Burchard is really, really worried about witchcraft, magic, non-Christian beliefs, and other such things. So again, really, what is “Period-Typical Homophobia?” We’ve already established that behavior between two men that would raise modern eyebrows would be absolutely nothing remarkable to a medieval person, while priests obviously don’t approve of sodomy, but they’re not that fussed by it either. (Unless you’re Peter the Chanter, who’s just a dick, but he is yet again one guy writing about one specific context, 12th-century Paris, and the fact that he’s complaining so much means that it’s obviously happening in reality.) Besides, the whole idea was that sodomy was the “unspeakable sin,” aka something people just didn’t mention or talk about, which is why it can be hard to track down reliable or unambiguous treatments of it. Obviously, queer erasure isn’t a surprise, but it doesn’t mean that these people didn’t exist; it just means that chroniclers, especially monastic chroniclers, didn’t write about it. So even if this is outright happening, i.e. Joe and Nicky’s romance and/or the number of other queer characters we will be sure to include for verisimilitude, there’s still no guarantee that anyone would even actually SAY something.

And besides: not every minute of history was filled with homophobia, just as not every minute was filled with filth, torture, misogyny, etc. There is actually no necessary reason to include it, especially in boring modern homophobia form, unless you’re trying to beat us over the head with Things Being Bad Back Then. Especially if we’re making a movie that honors and empowers queer people, who deserve a chance to escape into a lavish historically detailed gay romance with Joe and Nicky and not have to deal with bog-standard microaggression as a result. Because what I’ve laid out above is just as much (in fact more so) historically accurate, and MUCH more funny, interesting, authentic, and original.

(And thanks so much!! Another GREAT question.)

#history #medieval history #queer history #joe x nicky #persephone-rose-r #ask #the old guard meta

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thealogie · 3 years

Note

We know that The Americans is homophobic because it's a refined textbook example of queer relationships except they're all straight as far as we can tell. (Six seasons of seducing targets & learning their deepest secrets and not ONE of them was gay? unrealistic)

Please do me a solid and rate the gay energies of the mains on this show so we can know where we were truly robbed

@korusalka Thank you for this perfect ask that only you and I and perhaps two other people will be able to understand. (Warning for spoilers.)

Elizabeth Jennings: we gotta start with our main duo here and I gotta say that Elizabeth’s behavior from the beginning to the finale screams of closeted internalized homophobia lesbian behavior. would I make her a kinsey 6 on this version of the show? no because she loves Philip and their love drives me insane. But would I assign her a kinsey 6 on a version of the show without period typical homophobia where she’s undercover with a wife in the US instead and everything else is the same? Would I assign her a kinsey 6 in the version of the show I sometimes watch in my head where Philip is unacknowlegedly a trans lesbian? Yes. This woman is simply a lesbian going on a crusade because she’s not allowed to realize she’s gay. In the good version of THIS show however, we would’ve seen her seduce one woman mark for a mission. she goes into it cold and “acting” as always and we see through keri’s facial acting how disarmed and pleasantly surprised she is by the tenderness as things get going and she ends up having an amazing orgasm she did NOT expect. She goes home shaken by how real it was. She is cold and distant when Philip tries to comfort her. This is never mentioned in the show again.

Philip Jennings: see above. Philip Jennings exhibits so many lesbian behaviors that I’m almost ready to just assign him lesbian. but let’s take a step back into reality and not just go for the lesbians AU version of the show: This man would have been comfortably and openly bisexual had he not been fucked up by the KGB. He’d have absolutely no problem with it. He should’ve been dating state department guys on the show tbh, which would send Elizabeth on all sorts of new jealousy spirals like “fuck I was jealous of Martha and now I have to compete with state department twinks??”

Martha: controversially? I believe this to be a straight woman. I mean no one is 100% straight. Martha definitely “experimented” in college and one time she and Clark would have a threesome because Marta wants to spice things up and Clark notices that perhaps Martha seems like she is enjoying making out with this woman in the threesome aaaaa lot. But anyway, she really is genuinely fairly straight. She simply puts up with Clark’s drug dealer boyfriend behavior in a way that is “please please straight girl let me help you want better!”

Stan: same as Elizabeth except replace the Soviet style communism with American conservatism as the force that’s keeping him from even considering that he’s 100% gay. This is a man whose drama is fueled by not realizing he’s a kinsey 6. The failed marriage? The desire to do undercover work? The dedication to his work and his brotherhood-dominated workplace? The avenging his partner complex? The way he is with Philip? All of this drama could have been avoided if stan kissed a boy. He’s never thought about it. Good version of the show we see him checking out Philip in the showers once without meaning to and getting turned on and crying in his car about it, banging his head on the steering wheel. It is never mentioned again.

Nina: cool bisexual for sure. in the good version of the show she’s actually shopping for cool music to send back to her gf and that’s how her whole drama starts and it makes stan’s blackmail that much worse. not to bring an “orange is the new black” vibe to this but in the good version of the show she also later has a tender and brief romance in prison with an older woman who’s in there for doing Cool Journalism. They’re terrified and they cling to each other

Oleg: a gay ally. He’s been to gay clubs in DuPont circle with his gay American friends and is “charmed by the culture.” When Nina comes clean to him about the “I had a gf” aspect of her story, he simply says “oh. I love Freddie Mercury.”

Gabriel: His tragic backstory is that he was in unrequited love with an agent he was managing and the agent died on the job and Gabriel has been blaming himself for it for over a decade and everything he does is motivated by that.

Claudia: she’s straight and homophobic and offended by how universally people just assume she’s a lesbian. In the “gay people exist” version of the show Gabriel tries to commiserate with her about his gay backstory and she’s like “there is no homosexuality in the USSR! I am not gay!” There are several clues dropped to us, the audience, that she is another closeted gay but this is never fully explored or confirmed

Paige: I wasn’t gonna include the kids but it’s really important to note that a bunch of my friends in high school got into that exact brand of cool Christianity (the evangelizers literally used Sufjan Stevens to lure them in). They are all lesbians now including two who thought they were cishet men at the time. This girl is on a clear trajectory

#the Americans #korusalka

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imaginejamesandsirius · 3 years

Note

Titanic au? I need angst

((A/N: Warning for suicidal ideation in the beginning (in keeping with the movie), and some referenced period-typical homophobia. Also I’ve never seen the movie before so this is based on the synopsis I read and some gifsets. Therefore, scenes are almost certainly out of order. It’s a sort of open ending, so you can imagine it ends like the movie or they both make it out))

Over the course of his admittedly short life, Sirius had come to the conclusion that he was always going to be miserable. His parents didn't like him very much, but that was just the beginning of his issues. Granted, all the other issues stemmed from that, he was sure.

Like this. He was getting on a bloody boat and he hated boats. He didn't even know how to swim-- and sure, no one was going to be getting into this water because it was freezing, but that was beside the point. Or how about the part where he was being forced on this trip to go and meet his fiancé? A fiancé that he'd never met and had zero interest in. Sirius was of the mind that they should've been introduced, at the very least, before getting engaged, but his parents hadn't agreed.

He was on a boat that he didn't want to be on, on his way to an engagement he didn't want to be a part of, and part of a life that he didn't want to live.

They boarded the ship. Time passed. They were having a grand old party. Sirius was standing on the deck in a suit because he was supposed to have attended the party like a good son, but instead of attending, he was looking out on treacherous water. Without really meaning to, he went to the back of the ship and gripped the railing, leaning forward like he was going to pitch over the railing and into the ocean.

If he climbed on the outside of the railing, it would be so easy for him to lose his grip and fall. He'd be lost in the waves and terrified as his will to live suddenly flared, but he didn't know how to swim so it would be a short fight. No one could prove that he'd done it on purpose. He could just... stop existing, here, on this expensive boat where first class tickets had been a small fortune and third class tickets still cost a hefty sum. He'd be able to leave, and no one would be able to stop him. It wasn't like back home, where there would be an investigation and he'd get a big funeral; his body would be as fake in death as he'd been in life. He wouldn't have to marry some random woman that he cared nothing about, and that seemed preferable to him right now.

"Nice view," a deep voice commented.

Sirius jumped in surprise and turned to see who'd snuck up on him. He noticed right away that the man must be on here third class, and he hated himself for it being the first thing he saw.

But it was so obvious.

Not at the party, for one. No suit, for another. His clothes weren't cheap, but they certainly weren't expensive. Economical. Sirius had never owned an economical piece of clothing in his entire life; his parents wouldn't have allowed it.

"Though something tells me that it's not what you were enjoying."

Befuddled, Sirius glanced out at the ocean. "It looks like shite."

The man snorted, then started laughing. "Fair enough. I figured it was a better opening than asking if you were planning to jump, though."

"I wasn't going to jump," Sirius denied automatically.

"Sure you weren't. That's why you chose this part of the ship to stand at, where no one would catch you."

"You caught me,” Sirius couldn’t help but point out. It wasn’t a course of conversation he wanted to follow though, so he said, “Anything else to say now that you've ruined my time alone?"

The man looked at him for a long moment. "Just in case you had been thinking of jumping, I want to tell you that you shouldn't."

"What?"

"If I wake up one day and find out that you've jumped, I'm gonna jump to."

"Are you stupid?" Sirius asked, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could filter them.

"Generally, yes. But people who are suicidal aren't willing to kill other people too, that I've seen. So if you had been thinking about it, I want you to know that it wouldn't be just you that died."

Sirius stared at, dumbfounded. That was... "I wasn't going to jump," he muttered, pushing past him and heading back inside. Joining the party wasn't on the top of the list for things he wanted to do, but it was better than this.

"My name's James," the man called after him, before he got very far.

Sirius paused and turned to look at him.

"This is the part where you tell me your name."

Sirius started walking again. He wasn't going to see this bloke-- James, apparently-- again. Third class was in a completely different section of the ship from first class; he wouldn't have to see him for the rest of the trip.

"What do you do for a living?" Sirius asked.

"I'm an artist," James said, not bothering to ask about the suddenness of the question. It's not like Sirius had built up to it, after all. He had a habit of blurting out whatever he was thinking, no matter how rude it might be-- his parents hated it.

"Like oil paintings?"

James laughed. "That would make me far richer than I am. No, sketches mostly. Watercolours sometimes, but never on a ship," he said with a smirk. "And only a few, at that."

"If that's what you do, how did you afford a ticket?"

"Lottery," James admitted, with no shame. He was so comfortable with himself.

Sirius wondered what it would feel like to be that way. "What do you draw?"

"People. Flowers." James's smile went soft as he looked at Sirius. "Anything I find beautiful," he said, voice low so that no one would overhear.

Sirius's face flamed. No man had ever complimented him before, and he'd certainly never had the courage to do it to them.

"Not clothes though," he added casually, but he still kept his voice quiet. "Never did get the hang of those."

"I'd imagine that makes quite the portfolio," Sirius managed to reply. He cleared his throat. "Did you bring any with you?"

"I did, though I'm not sure how comfortable you would be with some of them."

"Would you describe them as racy?"

"I wouldn't. Some might, by simple virtue of me being a man."

"Despite what you might think of me, I don't think anything you've drawn would scare me away."

"I think a great many things about you, but it's been too short a time to know which ones are accurate."

"Pretty big gamble telling me what you draw, then." Sirius had never told anybody what he liked, after all. Though sometimes, he wondered what it would be like to find someone else like him. What they'd talk about. If they'd kiss, of if they’d just be friends who shared an interest.

"It wasn't a gamble at all," James said.

"You say that rather confidently. Everything's a gamble."

"When you have nothing to lose, I would argue it makes nothing a gamble. Like when I found you on the railing? You remember that?"

"When you said you'd jump if I did?"

James nodded. "It wasn't a gamble. I knew you wouldn't jump."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

Sirius hadn't known that for sure. James's confidence boosted his own, though. Maybe it truly hadn't been a gamble.

James was... alive. It felt stupid to think-- because of course he was alive, they all were, it's the only reason they'd been able to meet-- but he lived and he was happy about it. He took joy in living, and Sirius wasn't used to that. He said so, and James gave him a strange look. "Like... ever? You've never been happy to just exist?"

"I don't know."

"You've at least been happy before, right?"

Of course he had. He just couldn't think of an example.

"When was the last time you enjoyed yourself?" James asked, since it didn't look like any answer was forthcoming for his other question.

"I guess... when Regulus was around."

"Who's Regulus?"

"My brother. He got sick when I was- oh, maybe fourteen? Fifteen? Went in hospital and never came back out. My parents always liked him better," Sirius added without really meaning to. Then his mouth twisted. "I know. Poor little rich boy with his rich boy problems. Other people have it worse."

"I wasn't going to say that. Although it is true that somebody will always have it worse than you. You could be in the middle of getting tortured, and there would still probably be someone who had it worse than you. But that's not the point," James said, shaking himself.

"What's the point?"

"That being rich doesn't make you exempt from having problems. You lost your brother, and it sounds like your parents hate you. All being rich means is that you're not worried about having a place to live or something to eat on top of that. I have that problem sometimes, but you know, I don't even think of it as my big problem. You want to hear my big problem?" James asked with a grin, nudging him.

Sirius chuckled. He never knew how serious James was when he said things like that, but even if it was just a joke, it made him feel better. That was more than anyone else had done for him in a long time. "Sure. What's your big, bad problem?"

"Sometimes, I draw with the wrong pencil."

Sirius stared at him for a moment, but James kept his face straight. Sirius started laughing. "Really? How do you have a wrong pencil? Aren't they all for drawing?"

"Yeah, but there are different types. Some have hard graphite, some have soft."

"And what does that mean for your poor drawings?"

"Well, if I use the wrong pencil, sometimes it'll smear everywhere. Or it can make the subject appear much harsher than they are."

"Truly tragic."

"Isn't it?" James agreed mildly.

"You want to know my big rich people problem?"

"It's not going to be like losing your brother is it?"

"No, this one is definitely ridiculous."

James grinned. "Alright, tell me."

"There's a horribly expensive necklace that I'm supposed to give my fiance when I meet her."

"How horribly expensive?"

"I feel like it's more than the boat cost to make," Sirius said flatly. It might be an exaggeration, but it didn't feel like much of one.

"Sodding hell. That's..."

"Right?"

James nodded numbly.

"What's with all the automobiles?" James asked, looking out at the rows of them.

Sirius snorted, assuming it was a joke. Then he noticed that James looked confused. "Oh, er- they belong to the passengers. That one's ours," he said, pointing at one with gleaming black paint. "Pretty much everyone in first class is bringing their automobile with them." He knew, because it had been part of the ever-so-titillating conversation they'd had at lunch one day. "Some are just here for the ride so they can be sold once we reach land again. I think the crew might be transporting a few for the government."

"Rich people really are living in a different world than me," James said with a chuckle. He grabbed Sirius's hand and they headed down the stairs. As always, James's touch made his heart race. "If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go?"

"My room, since anywhere else would have a high likelihood of housing my parents," Sirius snorted. His parents only went to his room when they were specifically trying to find him.

"No," James said, rolling his eyes. "I meant like, anywhere out in the world."

"We're surrounded by water," he reminded him.

"You're no fun at all. Use your imagination," James said. He let go of Sirius's hand and sat in one of the automobiles at the edge that didn't have doors. He mimed putting a cigar in his mouth and puffed. "Where to, sir?" he asked in a gruff voice meant to imitate a cabbie’s accent.

Sirius laughed and sat in the backseat. He hummed, thinking it over. Imagination... all he'd ever imagined was getting away; he'd never thought about where he would get away to. He leaned forward so his arms were resting on the back bench of the front seats. "To the sky," he said, thinking about the dozens of hours he'd spent looking at clouds and dreaming that he was flying among them, because anything had been better than walking on the dirt.

James glanced at him, grinning. "What's the point when you already have a star?" he asked, dropping the accent.

"Because we'd be there together," Sirius said under his breath.

They were close enough that James heard him. His smile widened tellingly, but he didn't say anything about it.

Sirius's parents were busy and would be for several hours, so Sirius didn't think twice about inviting James to his room so he could finally look at his pictures. Maybe it was silly, but Sirius had spent a lot of time thinking about those drawings and what they would look like. It was pretty much as described: pretty people and pretty things.

The people in his drawings were nude, but it was hardly pornographic. About half of them didn't have a full view of their- ahem, special place because of the way they were posed. Women... and men. There were quite a few of nature and buildings as well, but Sirius couldn't take his eyes off the portraits.

"Who are all of these people?"

"Some were models. Others were just people I met at parties and the like."

"You met people at parties and they volunteered to pose for you?" Sirius asked doubtfully.

"Well," James smirked, "they were French. Very different, that."

"I see," Sirius agreed, also smirking. He flipped through a few more. Was it his imagination, or could he see the love these had been done with? He'd never been a great admirer of art. He'd never understood it; it had never spoken to him. It had all seemed lifeless, but anything James did couldn't be confused as such. A person with that much love and light could never make art that didn't reflect it. Even the buildings he drew were love letters to architecture. "Would you ever draw me?" he asked.

"I don't think it would be the sort of portrait you're wanting."

"What makes you say that?"

"As you can see, and if you recall, I told you that I only do nudes."

"I know."

James looked over at him, hands frozen in place where he'd poised one drawing up to show Sirius.

Sirius met his gaze evenly, even as his cheeks pinked.

James's throat worked. It seemed like he was speechless, and Sirius didn't quite know what to make of that.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he mumbled after several seconds of silence.

"I didn't say that," James said immediately. "But I don't want you to do something you'd be uncomfortable with."

"Do I look uncomfortable?"

"You might once you're naked." He paused. "Have you ever been naked around someone before?"

"Does the doctor count?"

James raised his eyebrows. "Not even for sex?"

"Saying yes now would be lying on two fronts," Sirius said. To help distract himself from the deepening blush across his cheeks, he reached into his pocket. "This is that necklace I told you about."

James reached out and stabilized the jewel in the center. "It's beautiful."

"I was thinking... maybe I wear this. If you draw me. It'd be nice to think about it as something other than a symbol of the decay of my personal life."

James's eyes flitted away from the necklace and back up to Sirius. "You're serious about this."

He nodded.

"Alright," James said.

"Try not to use the wrong pencil on me. I want to look as pretty as all your French blokes."

"You'd look prettier than them no matter what I did," James said softly. "I'll lock the door, and you can... get comfortable."

"There's a party tonight in third class," James said. "You should come with me."

A party in third class. Sirius didn't even know what that would like, but refusing would make him more like the person his parents wanted him to be and less like he wanted to be. But, "I don't know why you'd want me to come with you." It's not like they'd be able to dance together, and that was the point of a party, wasn't it?

"You invited me for that stuffy dinner in first class. We might as well see how the other half lives, while we're at it."

"You're part of that half," Sirius pointed out. "You already know how they live."

"Then maybe it's something I think you should see. I think you'll have fun there; it's nothing like the dinner in first class was, or how you've described the parties you've been to."

Sirius worried at his lip for a moment. Then, "What should I wear?"

"Dress down a bit. More like me," James said. He got to his feet, putting a hand on Sirius's knee and squeezing as he did. The touch was mostly hidden by him moving, and it was fleeting; it still made Sirius's blood run hot. That was silly, wasn't it? James had seen him naked-- had drawn him naked-- and a touch on the knee was getting his blood pumping? They'd held hands; they'd talked as though they had a future together. Comparatively, a touch on he knee was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing, and Sirius couldn’t even try to pretend otherwise.

And now they had a date to go to a party together. He didn't even have to worry about impressing him; all James had wanted was for Sirius to be himself. He still worried a bit for how it would go.

He didn't quite know how it had happened. They'd been laughing, and then Sirius had pulled him out of the main room, still laughing. He was pretty sure that he'd meant to ask if that’s what all parties were like for him, but then they'd been sharing the same breath, and there wasn't a damn thing that could've gotten Sirius to step away.

"We should go somewhere we won't get caught," Sirius managed to say when he got enough space from James's mouth-- not an easy feat.

"Your room?"

Sirius grimaced. "My parents have a key." He wasn't sure he had a key, but they definitely did. "They like to make sure I'm not getting up to trouble. Yours?"

"Third class," James reminded him. "It's not just my room; there's loads of other people there."

"Bugger. Wait, I've got it. C'mon," Sirius said, and started pulling him in the right direction. He was sure that it was obvious what they'd been doing, but most of the people in third class were still at the party, no other passenger would be down in this area, and there was nothing here that the crew would need.

"Where are we going?"

Sirius grinned. "The sky."

He loved the way that James's eyes lit with realisation without him having to say another word. James cared as much about him as he did about James, right? This was proof. It wasn't idle flirtation and animal attraction; it was something more than that.

They hurried down to where all the automobiles were, and not a one of them was locked because they were on the water. Sirius picked one that wasn't near the edge, and they tumbled into the backseat.

"I love you," James whispered against his neck, his hands on Sirius's back under his shirt and hot as a brand. Sirius was his, now. "I love you," he said again, when Sirius got a hand around his prick. His tone was worshipful and awed, like he couldn't believe the universe had let them find each other at the exact right moment.

Sirius could hardly believe it either, and he wasn't about to turn it away. "I love you too."

"Sirius, where are you going?" Orion screamed. He latched a hand around his son's upper arm to try and stop him from getting any further away from the lifeboat.

"I'm not leaving him!"

"He's going to die here!" They were yelling because they were angry, but the sound of everyone else panicking and the water and the boats was enough to make them have to speak louder anyways. "If you go after him, you'll die too. Even if you make it out of here alive, you'd be executed wherever you lived!"

"I'd rather die with him than live another second with you!" Sirius screamed, wrenching his arm out of his father's grip and running towards the lower decks where he knew James was. He didn't know how he was going to get him out of the handcuffs or where they'd try to go after he was free, but he couldn't just leave him there.

If you jump, I jump. James had said that it wasn't gamble back then, but this time it was. Sirius still believed it, though. He wasn't leaving this boat without James, and if that meant not leaving it at all, then he'd be okay with that.

#prongsfoot #marauders #james potter #sirius black #fanfic #filled #fusion #getting together #siriuslystarbucks #Anonymous

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

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do you have a list of podfic recs? i listen to a lot of @podfixx but she just has so many it’s hard for me to narrow down what to listen to sometimes. i’d love to give other podfic creators a chance too!

Hi Nonny!!

AHHHH Okay so I am a loser and don’t listen to podfics even though I know I would enjoy it for long road trips, but AHHH I don’t I’m so sorry, so I don’t have any PERSONAL recs, so the BEST I can do is give you a list of fics that I know have Podfics for them, since as I go through my bookmarks and update them, I’ve been adding podfic links to them because I like having my lists be as thorough as possible, so this will ALSO give me a chance for authors who know they have podfics of their stories can add them to my recs and I can add them to my offline list LOL

PODFICS

BOOKMARKED FICS

To the Nines by suitesamba (M, 2,724 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Magical Realism, Pining, Angst, John Whump, Time Travel, Fortunes, Time Jumps) – John skips forward in time, and Sherlock reads the signs that point to nine. John knows he’ll eventually be with Sherlock, but the waiting is nearly impossible, and his body is a lot more than transport. A foray into magical realism where all the canon events occur, and a hell of a lot more.

Time on my hands by Mildredandbobbin (M, 7,179 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, One Night Stands, Mutual Pining, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Sexual Exploration / Discovery) – Virginity’s a construct, a concept—what does losing one’s virginity entail for a gay man anyway? Sherlock wants to fill that particular gap in his knowledge but John won’t, can’t, never will assist and there’s only so much desperately unspoken pining even Sherlock can take.

Software Malfunction by tiger_in_the_flightdeck (E, 16,679 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Android Sherlock, Love Story, Unhappy Ending, Angst, Suicide, Jealousy) – “You think I can’t love you? Just because you’re made with metal, and detailed programming?” The doctor propped himself on his elbow, and looked down at it. “I am nothing but blood and bone, and tissue. Things just managed get mashed together in a manner that made me like this. Just like you were put together to make you how you are. When I kiss you-” he did so, briefly, to prove his point. Then more deeply, and lingering, because he could. “When I touch you, or smile at you, does it make you feel different from when others have done it in the past?”

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w., 12 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Case Fic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage, Angst, Anal, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Spas / Massages, Shampoo, Jealousy) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary’s wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn’t exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues – just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (NR [E], 54,437 w., 50 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV, Light Humour, Reconnecting, Declarations of Love) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world … and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Heart In The Whole by verityburns (E, 101,650 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TGG Canon Divergence, Drama & Angst, H/C, First Time, Blind Sherlock) – Events after ‘The Great Game’ leave Sherlock dependent on his best friend and colleague. But John has a secret of his own…

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It’s 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn’t need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w., 23 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump, Mild DubCon, Hand / Blow Jobs, Torture) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it’s a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That’s all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

“TO READ” FICS

Curlock by 88thParallel (G, 1,285 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Sherlock’s Hair, Fluff, Ficlet) – How Sherlock learned to control and appreciate the incredible gift he was born with, and the man who helped him sort it out.

Letters, the Writing of by earlgreytea68 (G, 2,416 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF/Hiatus) – While he’s dead, Sherlock writes John letters. Part 1 of the Letters series

Let’s Say I Let You In by kedgeree (E, 9,972 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Halloween, Costume Kink, Est. Rel., Humour, Smut, Vampire Sherlock, Bloodplay, Biting, Romance) – It’s Halloween and Sherlock’s vampire costume is turning John on, but Sherlock doesn’t quite get the idea of a sexy vampire. At least…not at first. Part 4 of the Holidays series

Almost Home by Berty (E, 13,871 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate First Meeting, Captain John, Pining John, University Student Sherlock, Gay Bar, First Time, Anal, Mutual Masturbation, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, POV John, Time Skips, Memories, Angst With Happy Ending) – He pulls out the ID card – the one that Sherlock had somehow seen when he was buying drinks at that awful club. He’s had other ID cards since then but he’s hung on to this one for some reason. He looks at the image of his face, young and pale and idealistic, and he knows that just a month later that man would have found and lost the love of his life within a week, and even knowing that, John wouldn’t change a single thing.

Heart on a String by AngelSpirit (E, 23,257 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate First Meeting, First Kiss / Time, Infidelity, Angst, Fluff, Kidlock/Teenlock, Mentions of Recreational Drug Use) – John and Sherlock got married with Cracker Jack rings when they were 7 yrs old. It wasn’t official, but for their whole lives they took it very seriously.

Common Tongues: Unassuming Brilliance by jinglebell (E, 41,174 w., 11 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Anal, Rimming, Snowballing, Language Kink, Blow Jobs, BAMF John, Size Difference, Height Difference, Sapiosexual Sherlock, Barebacking, Size Queen) – John may be predictably average in most things, but there are a handful of areas in which he knows he is uncommonly skilled. He can make a great cup of tea, for one. He’s also good at patching folks up, putting bullets precisely where he wants them, and listening.The one skill that John is perhaps most exceptional in, though, is language. John is a polyglot.

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 43,936 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Time, Post-TRF) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns. Post-Reichenbach.

Command Structure by 221b_hound (E, 49,034 w., 16 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post TRF / Not S3 Compliant, Dom/Sub Play, Dom John/Sub Sherlock, Oral/Anal, Anal Fingering, Frottage, Past Child Abuse, Anxiety Attacks, Captain Watson, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, Slow Build, PTSD Sherlock, Consensual, Past Dub Con, Rimming) – Sherlock Holmes returns from his hunt to destroy Moriarty’s network. He comes home to John, and at long last they start this thing between them that couldn’t begin while Moriarty threatened them. But Sherlock has returned fractured and suffering anxiety attacks. He thinks he needs discipline - the whip - to help him focus and be strong. But his problems are deeper and run back to a childhood of neglect. John Watson is prepared to be Sherlock’s Captain, but he’s a doctor too. His command style isn’t about pain and subjugation. It’s about care and responsibility: and those concepts go in both directions in Captain Watson’s command structure.

Saccharomyces cerevisiae (Baker’s Yeast) by yaycoffee (E, 60,879 w., 13 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Unplanned Pregnancy / One Night Stand, Drunken Sex, First Kiss/Time, Bit of Case Fic, Sally/Sherlock Drunk Sex First Ch.) – Sometimes, one makes an imprudent decision born of a devastating combination of drink and sentiment. Sometimes, the consequences of that decision take on a life of their own. And sometimes, the facing of those consequences shapes every aspect of one’s life–from the hugely meaningful down to the seemingly insignificant. Part 1 of the Knows His Own series

Perpetual Motion by Fay (orphan_account) (E, 75,789 w., 31 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Romance, Unconventional Relationship, Renegotiation of Boundaries, Virgin Sherlock, Changing Sexuality, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Sex Toys, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Humour, Grieving, Light Bondage, First Kiss / Time, Hand Jobs, Quarrels, Shower Sex, Pillow Humping/Frottage, Oral Sex, Slight Self-Harm, Chastity Device) – Everyone thinks that they’re a couple, but Sherlock’s self-sexual and John’s straight, so they’re never going to fall in love, are they? Even if neither of them can imagine life without the other.

The Blog of Eugenia Watson by Mad_Lori (G, 95,026 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || OC POV, Parentlock, Teenagers, Diary / Blogging / Journal, Family, Humour) – I like to think of this not so much as a blog but as the first draft of my inevitably best-selling memoirs. My Life In an Unconventional Family. How unconventional? Well, I live with my divorced parents and my dad’s husband. How’s that for starters? Trust me, it gets weirder.My name is Eugenia Watson, but you can call me Genie. I’m sixteen. This is my life. Note: Work is marked complete for now and is on hiatus, having reached a convenient stopping point. Additional chapters may be added in the future.

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU || BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn’t truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes.” Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Drift Compatible by J_Baillier (E, 130.380 w., 26 Ch. || Pacific Rim Fusion || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Family Drama, Accidental Telepathic Voyeurism, Martial Arts, Sci-Fi, Internalised Homophobia, Rubbish Siblings, Army Doctor John, Medical H/C, Bullying, Neurodiversity, PTSD, Drug Use, Depression, Mourning, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort, UST/URT) – A washed out war hero struggling with his past. A prodigy who wants nothing to do with his family legacy. Both are looking for something—and someone—worth fighting for in a world where human civilisation is constantly under threat.

Nature and Nurture by earlgreytea68 (M, 203,273 w., 57 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Parentlock, Cloning, Kidlock, Dev. Rel.) – The British Government accidentally clones Sherlock Holmes. Which brings a baby to 221B Baker Street. Part 1 of Nature & Nurture

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w., 73 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice /Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. “It is what it is.” John Watson is what happens when what “it is” becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #podfics #my fic recs #Anonymous #fic rec sunday

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perfeggso · 4 years

Text

Noir (yutae)

Week III pt. 1

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies)

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 9.7k

Every day at work since the night in the car with Yuta was torturous for Taeyong. He found himself wishing he had just been left alone at the electronics shop in Akihabara but no – Yuta had to pluck him up and complicate an already complicated situation. Maybe that was what Taeyong deserved for getting his hopes up and prying. Yuta had been glum for the first couple of days and Taeyong thought he caught him trying to approach the topic a few times, but Yuta would either drop it before he even opened his mouth or else Taeyong would remove himself from Yuta’s presence. Eventually, Yuta seemed to decide that the best way to handle what had transpired was to not handle it. He went back to acting cordial and more or less professional, and Taeyong figured he should too even if he couldn’t always shake the memory of the humiliated tears which escaped his eyes that night.

It had been four days when Taeyong found himself in a communal space at headquarters, sulking over a sour plum onigiri he’d bought for lunch at Lawson. Doyoung, Jaehyun, Johnny, and Taeil were there with him, having a smoke break and waiting for orders from the Oyabun or from Yuta. Well, all but Jaehyun, who was only there to distract himself from his studies. Taeyong knew from the way he and Yuta had been acting that everyone probably suspected something – but no one asked.

Johnny was talking to the others about some girl he was seeing while, in the corner, Doyoung was, as the only non-smoker, listening and practicing throwing a small knife into a corkboard. Taeyong wasn’t really paying attention and was sitting in the opposite corner next to the open window so he could taste his food.

“Taeyong!” yelled Johnny, clearly trying to knock Taeyong out of his stupor with some good cheer. “You should come around to my place this evening. I’m closed tonight so we can all get drunk and have a grand old time. These guys will all be there, right?” The indicated guys nodded their heads. “Unfortunately,” quipped Doyoung.

“Right,” Johnny continued, “what do you say?”

Taeyong chewed his food slowly. He didn’t have to think about what he’d do, he just felt like taking his time. “I don’t think I can,” he explained, “I’m going somewhere with Yuta tonight. For his project.”

Johnny cocked his head, expression betraying concern. “Well maybe you two can swing by after. Just let me know if you decide to.”

“Alright.”

Taeyong felt like his general demeanor had brought down the rapport in the room that had existed during whatever bawdy story Johnny was in the midst of telling before. The only sound for several beats was the THWACK of Doyoung’s knife lodging into its target. Finally, Jaehyun spoke.

“What are you two doing?” he asked Taeyong.

“We’re going into Shinjuku to meet up with someone named Donghyuck who has contacts that might be helpful. Do you know him?”

Taeil spluttered. “Oh, you haven’t met Donghyuck yet?” he asked.

Taeyong paused his chewing, wondering if there was something he should be aware of that might be concerning to him.

“No,” he said, “is that a problem?”

Taeil laughed again, the dregs of his earlier outburst. “Just be on your toes. He’s a street kid, kind of like you were, but infinitely more obnoxious and he likes to test the new recruits. You’ve got to establish dominance before he gets too much under your skin. I know you don’t want to look like a little bitch in front of Yuta, yeah?”

“Oi!” Jaehyun warned Taeil with a quick glare. “Maybe cool it with that.”

THWACK! Everyone turned their attention to Doyoung. “That kid is Satan spawn,” he said coolly, going to retrieve his knife from where it was lodged.

“Oh, you know you love him though,” Johnny jested, then turning his attention back to Taeyong. “But don’t worry about it; he’s not even old enough to have a driver’s licence – you can handle him.”

Taeyong just nodded.

“I never said I didn’t love him, Johnny,” said Doyoung with a sly smile. “I am a Satanist after all.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Taeil interjected. “You just want to sound clever.”

***

That evening, Taeyong met Yuta at their pre-arranged spot below an elevated highway. Yuta greeted Taeyong curtly – although Taeyong read some of the discomfort on the other man’s face more as guilt than contempt – and introduced Taeyong to the young man by his side.

“Taeyong,” he said, “this is our associate, Donghyuck. Donghyuck, Taeyong.”

Donghyuck was slightly shorter than Yuta, with shaggy black hair and a round, jovial face. He had a couple of Inagawa-kai themed tattoos on his neck and wrists and carried a baseball bat with him. Must be a confident kid to get away with that, Taeyong figured.

“I’ve been told to watch out for you,” said Taeyong by way of a greeting.

Donghyuck smirked. “I have no idea why that would be,” he sing-songed. “If those guys at headquarters can’t handle a shatei then I think that says more about them than it does about me. Now,” he continued, grinding a foot into the gravel below him and clinking his bat against the ground, “shall we be on our way?”

They started under the overpass towards an area populated by office buildings and construction projects. Since they were on the edges of Shinjuku, in a sort of no-man’s land between neighborhoods, there weren’t many people around and Taeyong wondered to himself what kind of weird stuff went on in the shadowy corners under the highway once the sun started to set like it was. Mostly though, he just tried to avoid getting pooped on by the pigeons loitering above.

“Where are we going?” Taeyong asked.

“Donghyuck is our go-between for gaining information on the operations of other yakuza groups. He knows the small-time gangs that do business with them informally, since that’s the world he was part of when we plucked him up,” Yuta explained. “We’re going to go meet with one such gang in their hideout.”

Taeyong nodded as they approached a wall of gray buildings. “What does this have to do with Sana-san?” he asked.

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” said Yuta, looking the closest to normal spirits that Taeyong had seen him in days – probably because he anticipated a big break in the investigation. Taeyong thought Yuta might know more than he was letting on, but he was mostly just happy to feel some of the tension between them letting up. Even if their interaction in Yuta’s car scarred Taeyong every time he laid eyes on the other man, he knew it was in his best interest to be personally liked by his greatest advocate.

The three continued walking on the desolate sidewalk and, out of curiosity, Taeyong turned to Donghyuck, who had inched uncomfortably close to his side. Taeyong chose to ignore that.

“You ever join the Bosozoku?” Taeyong asked, eyeing the baseball bat: a favorite of the biker gangs.

Donghyuck raised his eyes at Taeyong like he was an idiot. “No!” he said. “Besides, you think they’d take me? Fucking fascists.”

“I was just wondering about the bat,” explained Taeyong with an almost faraway laugh. “One time I got beat up with one just like it.”

“Oh yeah?” Donghyuck asked swinging the weapon around viscerally with an intense expression which reminded Taeyong of himself a few years earlier. “Then you understand how I feel about Bosozoku. I stole this baby from the leader of the Black Emperors!”

Donghyuck skipped out ahead of Taeyong and Yuta a few steps and turned around to walk backwards, holding the bat over his shoulders with one hand. He reached into his pocket, rummaging around for something.

“Speaking of stealing,” he said, pulling Taeyong’s wallet from his pocket, “you need to be more aware of your shit, kumi-san .”

Before Taeyong could make any words materialize to express his shock and irritation, Yuta spoke for him.

“Hyuck,” he said, “that is wholly inappropriate. I’m going to have to request that you give my partner his wallet back right now.”

Donghyuck threw the wallet at Taeyong with just enough warning for him to catch it, then turned the right way around. Yuta sped up to catch his subordinate and place him in a playful walking headlock.

“That was very disrespectful to your elder,” he chided.

Donghyuck faked a choking sound and spat on the sidewalk to his left, causing Yuta to let up off of him.

“I’ve worked for you for longer,” he complained.

“Damn, now I know why everyone warned me about you,” said Taeyong, replacing his wallet and patting himself to confirm the presence of his other possessions, having finally regained his voice. “Brat.”

“Oi!” Donghyuck spun around, wielding his bat and only calming down when Yuta placed a hand on his shoulder and plucked the weapon from his hands. Taeyong laughed and Donghyuck looked at his boss in disbelief.

“Your men are totally out of control, apparently!” he whined, and Yuta tutted, spinning Donghyuck around and recommencing in the direction of a large under-construction high rise. He pulled Donghyuck into his side.

“Now listen,” he began, “you certainly don’t get to tell me when to discipline my men. Alright, shatei ?”

Yuta let Donghyuck go as he nodded begrudgingly. “Yes, Shategashira .”

“Good,” said Yuta. “I’ll kick your ass if you try anything else.”

Taeyong barely registered the end of the interaction playing out in front of him because he was too busy trying to process the flow of blood he felt at the insinuation that he should be ‘disciplined.’

They stopped before the chipped doorway of the high rise. The structure seemed almost complete, but it was difficult to tell under the scaffolding.

“Here??” asked Taeyong, growing more confused by the minute. When he was a teenager he had sometimes messed around with his friends in rundown buildings and other sketchy locales, but never in an active construction site.

Yuta nodded mildly and turned his attention to Donghyuck, handing him back his bat under the condition that he be good and control himself. Donghyuck took the bat back with a pointed glare and went inside. Yuta looked at Taeyong.

“After you,” he directed.

Taeyong followed Donghyuck up several dilapidated sets of stairs. The interior of the building was about what would be expected; lots of brick, concrete, raw drywall, and exposed wiring. Some of the walls were damp from unfinished plumbing and the farther they made their way up the stairs, the more convinced Taeyong became that this project had been abandoned for some reason.

Finally, they came to a steel door which Donghyuck pushed them through, and then to an equally dank hallway that smelled of duckweed. There was barely any light on account of it being dusk, and this fact made Taeyong’s skin prickle.

“Last door on the right, Shategashira ,” Donghyuck instructed as Yuta moved past him down the hall. Taeyong followed all the way until Yuta had entered the indicated room, at which point he felt something hard and rounded brushing against the back of his head. He paused where he was just on the outside of the naked doorframe and put his hands up. Looking to his side, he realized that Donghyuck was looking at him, smirking but angry seeming at the same time, and holding his bat up to Taeyong’s head as if teeing him up.

“ Kumi-in ,” began Donghyuck, “this is strike two. I thought you seemed soft. And Yuta’s soft enough already. If you want to survive together you need to be more aware, got it?”

Taeyong nodded, trying not to seem too intimidated by someone four years his junior. He heard Yuta yelling for them from inside the room.

“Point taken,” he said. “May I be on my way?”

Donghyuck nodded, bumping his bat lightly against Taeyong’s head for good measure before pulling it away.

“Don’t let there be a strike three,” Taeyong heard Donghyuck say behind him as he entered the room.

Inside was an industrial attic of sorts with lots of metal beams, trash scattered over the floors, and a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling on a wire, illuminating three late teens to early twenties looking boys along with Yuta at a plastic table.

“What kept you?” asked Yuta.

“Haechan!” yelled the tallest of the boys, and Donghyuck approached the table with a sunshiny plump-cheeked grin. What a contrast .

“Sorry,” said Taeyong, eyes on the grimy floor. “Also, Haechan?”

“Nickname,” Yuta explained. “I think he uses it as a code name with his friends.”

“I see.”

“Who’s this guy?” asked one of the boys, almost yelling.

Yuta motioned towards Taeyong. “Jisung, Jeno, Jaemin, this is my new associate, Taeyong.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Taeyong and the three boys, each of them tall and rail thin, bowed unenthusiastically and returned the greeting.

“Yuta-san,” began the one in the middle. He had a squarer face than the others and if the order of their introduction was anything to go by, he would have to be Jeno. Taeyong wondered for a moment why they didn’t have to address Yuta by his title, but he figured it was because they didn’t technically work for the Inagawa-kai.

“You need more information on this girl, right? Sana-chan?” Jeno held up a small black and white photo of the girl Taeyong and Yuta had stalked the other night, walking with an older man in a suit.

“That’s her,” Yuta confirmed.

The boy on the far end of the table, Jaemin, leaned forward into the light. “Listen, boss, I don’t think you’ll like what we have to tell you.”

Taeyong snuck a glance at Yuta’s face, feeling the nerves start to creep up on him, but Yuta’s expression remained completely placated; he showed no indication of worry and this calmed Taeyong down a bit. Only a bit, though.

“Please, just tell me whatever it is,” said Yuta openly. “I’m sure I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Okay,” Jisung began, “essentially, Yamaguchi is holding Ms. Minatozaki hostage. They’ve got her working Miyazaki for cash as like, a sugar baby, but little does he know all the money he’s wiring his girl through shady Thai banks is really going right into the pockets of a yakuza clan.”

“We don’t know how she got mixed up with them,” explained Jeno, “but she is, and we’re pretty sure she’s doing it because they’ll hurt her if she doesn’t.”

Yamaguchi, Taeyong realized, would have to mean the Yamaguchi-gumi, only the largest criminal family in the country. How did his situation just keep growing more and more outlandish? Taeyong watched Yuta’s reaction and finally thought he caught a hardness seeping into his face.

“Fuck, Yamaguchi,” Yuta practically snarled. “Okay, this isn’t ideal but if we play it right and don’t allow them to catch wind of us, we could use this situation to our advantage. Did you get this straight from them?

“Yeah,” Jaemin assured, “we heard it from our contacts in the Yamaguchi-gumi! But listen, that’s why you need to make sure we have protection, because we’re really sticking our necks out for you and they might have more men but the Inagawa-kai owns Tokyo, so we expect you can manage to look out for us.”

“Oi, Jae, maybe you shouldn’t talk to a Shategashira like that,” warned Jisung.

Jaemin whipped around to look at his friend. “Listen, do we need to take this out to the roof or something? Because I’m just trying to ensure our safety and since you’re not down with that, I might as well give your ass a preemptive beating.”

“Come on, guys, let’s not cause a disruption,” said Jeno, laughing awkwardly and placing a hand on each of his friends’ shoulders. Then, he turned his attention to Yuta. “We humbly implore you, sir.” Still, Jaemin and Jisung continued arguing over him, that is, until Donghyuck slammed his bat on the ground with a resounding CLACK!

“Shut the fuck up, you guys!” The three young men all froze, silence reclaiming the space around them. Yuta’s face remained calm although Taeyong heard him let out an impatient sigh, and Taeyong himself had to suppress laughter. He used to be just like these boys.

Donghyuck continued. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t embarrass me in front of my boss, thank you.” He turned to Yuta. “Please excuse them, Shategashira .”

Yuta smirked. “Perfectly alright,” he said. “Jaemin-kun, I’m sympathetic to your concerns and I assure you that you will have ample protection from the Inagawa-kai be it from your friend, Donghyuck, Taeyong, or any of my men. You are also welcome to use our headquarters and safehouses if need be.”

Jisung, Jeno, and Jaemin, let out a collective breath. “Thank you very much, sir.”

“Of course,” said Yuta. “We appreciate what you have done to help our mission, and I recognize that you did not have to. That being said, I hope you will understand that protection comes with a certain level of surveillance. With your proximity to our rivals, we have to be sure you can continue to be trusted.”

The three boys nodded nervously, exchanging reassuring looks with Donghyuck. “We understand, sir,” confirmed Jeno.

“Good,” said Yuta. “Well, then. Back to the matter at hand.”

“Do you –” Taeyong began, cutting himself off when he noticed everyone staring at him. They had probably forgotten he existed. “Sorry, um, do you think this thing with Ms. Minatozaki and the Yamaguchi-gumi has anything to do with us? With our plan?”

Yuta smiled, his first genuine smile that Taeyong had seen since their misunderstanding last week, and it caused a rush of pride to fill Taeyong.

“That’s an excellent question, Taeyong,” said Yuta. “Do you boys have any incite?”

Taeyong caught Jisung and Donghyuck sharing a brief, quizzical look.

“Well, we can’t be sure unless we talk to someone higher up,” began Jisung, “but that’s certainly a likelihood. I mean, they have their ways of finding things out just like you do, and I know they wouldn’t want you getting this deal.”

“My guess,” said Jaemin, “is that they’re going to blackmail their way into the meeting in a month and try to outmaneuver your Mitsubishi arrangement. It would be a ballsy move since, like I said, you guys are much more powerful within the city, but Yamaguchi are nothing if not ballsy, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’d imagine you’re correct,” said Yuta. “That’s all for now, then. Thank you again, you three. Donghyuck?”

“Yes, Shategashira .”

“You stay with them. Taeyong and I will be heading out.”

Donghyuck saluted and his three friends bowed, thanking Yuta for his consideration.

***

“Starting to think like an investigator, I see,” remarked Yuta once he and Taeyong were back down on the street. Taeyong started.

“Oh, really? I – I just thought it was an obvious question. Sorry I interrupted.”

Yuta began to walk back in the direction they came and Taeyong followed. “You didn’t interrupt,” he said with a sideways smile. “No one was talking. Besides, that was about to be my next question. I’m just glad you’re starting to feel comfortable being involved.”

“Oh,” said Taeyong, not knowing what to say to that. He felt tingly even though he now knew he wasn’t supposed to. “Shategashira?”

“Mm?”

“Are you scared?”

Yuta laughed suddenly, making Taeyong jump and proving, at least, that his nerves were on edge. “Scared? There’s no use in being scared, Taeyong. Although I wouldn’t fault anyone if they were.” Yuta began walking once more. They were just clearing the overpass highway. “Are you?”

Taeyong thought for a moment. He’d been in plenty of fights and dangerous situations, so he was used to threat. If he was being honest, he wasn’t so much scared as he was consumed by a sense of dread.

“Not exactly,” Taeyong stated.

Yuta repeated, “Not exactly.” The lights of central Shibuya were slowly becoming visible – like an illuminated cargo ship on the sea at midnight. Taeyong weighed the appropriateness of bringing up what had happened between them four days earlier, getting the sense that Yuta was still trying to ignore it and move on. Taeyong felt like he needed closure, but Yuta began to speak before he could.

“I’m sorry this happened to you Taeyong,” said Yuta. Taeyong huffed. He was getting a bit sick of the pity speech. “No, listen for a minute. I know this situation seems really crazy, but I’ve been doing this since I was fifteen; been around it my whole life. I’ll handle anything that comes at me and anything that comes at you, alright? And I don’t underestimate you. You’re smart, a quick learner, and you’ve got spark. I know that because I’ve worked with people like you for a while now.”

“What people like me?” asked Taeyong. “ Zainichi ?”

“No, not just that,” Yuta clarified. “People who’ve had to scrap just to exist. That’s the exact type you want in this line of work. That’s why I have confidence in you. I know you can scrap.”

Yuta’s words soothed Taeyong, although he wanted to punch him at the same time. He knew this wasn’t exactly flirty – more like, professional encouragement? – but Taeyong felt like he was being led on by all the compliments.

“I see,” he said mildly. “I will try to live up to that.”

Yuta chuckled, exhausted by formal talk. “Are you tired, Taeyong?”

“Not really, actually.”

Yuta smiled. “Good, because I told Johnny we’d be joining.”

***

There had been almost no one in the area until Taeyong and Yuta got closer to central Shibuya. Almost. Taeyong had noticed someone shortly after agreeing to accompany Yuta to Johnny’s place; a man dressed in dark clothes and walking a good ways behind Taeyong and Yuta. He wasn’t doing anything in particular to call attention to himself, so Taeyong didn’t pay him any mind.

He didn’t pay any mind either when he noticed the man entering Shibuya station after them. The station handled millions of commuters every day, after all. It was only when he and Yuta had boarded the Shibuya line and he spotted the same man in the next car over that Taeyong instinctively brushed his hand over the interior pocket of his leather jacket, where his gun was hidden. Still, he assumed he was just being overly cautious. Yuta didn’t like using his car if he didn’t have to because the plates could be tracked, but Taeyong found himself wishing for the false protection of being alone in a personal vehicle.

“Akihabara-eki. Please be cautious of the closing doors.”

The electronic woman’s voice rang through the train as Taeyong and Yuta descended onto the platform. Taeyong glanced to his right, making a mental note that the same man was also getting off, and practically pulled Yuta towards the exit under the guise of trying not to get separated in the rush of passengers. He heard Donghyuck’s voice in his head: “ don’t let there be a strike three .”

Taeyong walked out ahead as he and Yuta started down Ameyokochō, passing food stalls and vendors of knock-off Nike sneakers.

“You know how to get there, right Taeyong?”

“YeahIdo,” Taeyong huffed, and Yuta grabbed at his hand to pull him around, stopping them both in the middle of the busy pedestrian street.

“Taeyong,” said Yuta, “are you just that eager to have some fun, or is something the matter?”

Taeyong’s body was jittery with the impulse to move, and it only got infinitely worse when he caught a glimpse of the same dark-clothed man over Yuta’s shoulder.

Taeyong yanked Yuta forward.

“Taeyong, what the fuck?” Yuta looked angry, eyes dark and brow knitted. If he hadn’t been so scared, Taeyong might have found the expression attractive.

“Shategashira, I’m very sure we’re being followed,” he explained, practically dragging both himself and Yuta through the crowd of evening revelers.

Yuta stole a glance behind them and confirmed Taeyong’s fear.

“Shit,” he said, “I think that’s Yamaguchi. Let’s go.”

Yuta took the lead this time, navigating their surroundings more efficiently than Taeyong had. Yuta had Taeyong bend his knees as they walked, trying to disrupt their pursuer’s vantage point, and Taeyong silently cursed Yuta for feeling the need to dye his hair. Finally, they came upon an alleyway they could use as a shortcut to Johnny’s bar, thinking they had managed to lose the man.

“Here,” said Yuta, pointing to a dumpster about halfway down the alley. “We need to hide behind this for a second, so he doesn’t see us when he passes.”

Taeyong, as designated lookout for Yuta during this whole operation, took it upon himself to peak out from their hiding spot in case something went wrong. He watched as throngs of passers by ignored the alley, but none of them were the tall, dark-clad Yamaguchi agent. Taeyong hadn’t been this nervous since high school, when every day he would return home for the day not knowing if there would be nationalist gang members waiting at his house to drag him away. Still, back then if he could get enough distance between him and his attackers, he was probably safe. Now, he knew for a fact, everyone who wanted to hurt him was carrying a gun. Every cell of his body felt like it was trying to evaporate; the only things grounding him being the metal heft of the revolver in his hand and the outline of Yuta in his peripheral vision, sitting on the ground and pulling Taeyong down to earth like a heavy stone.

“Why didn’t we just stay in the crowd? He couldn’t shoot that way,” asked Taeyong, voice uneven.

“Because,” Yuta explained, “this is more direct and if he keeps on our trail, he keeps on our trail. Better to get in a shootout with him here than guide him to all our colleagues and put them in danger too. He might have associates ready to pounce when they know the location of Johnny’s place. Just trust me on this.”

Taeyong sucked in a breath as he watched the man from Yamaguchi turn the corner down the alley. He’d been able to see them the whole time.

“Damnit!”

“We need to run,” said Yuta urgently. “We can’t stay here and let him get closer and corner us.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Taeyong repeated, shaking and feeling fully gone as Yuta got to his feet next to him and the man stomped towards them.

Yuta took his gun out and Taeyong heard the click of the safety coming off. Yuta put a hand on Taeyong’s arm and looked him in the eyes, steady.

“Remember, Taeyong,” he said, “no use in being scared.” Yuta smiled his patented Cheshire Cat smile and with that was up and running before Taeyong could even think. Taeyong followed instinctively, turning around after a moment to check the progress of their assailant. His eyes went wide as the man slowed to pull something from his pocket – a gun, undoubtedly. Taeyong stopped and steadied himself and his weapon just in time to catch the black shine of the handle showing from behind the man’s jacket. No strike three, no strike three, no strike three!

“ Shategashira , look out!”

BLAM!

Taeyong stumbled half a step back, panting and letting the weight of the gun pull his hands down to his thighs.

“Holy shit…” he said, absently. The Yamaguchi member was a few yards from him and Yuta; where he’d been when Taeyong fired, struggling simultaneously to pull his collapsed right knee from the concrete and to pick up the gun he had lost his grip on when Taeyong shot him. Blood was seeping, dark and thick, from an open gash over his kneecap.

Taeyong watched as Yuta passed by his right shoulder, striding with brutal grace to the now pathetic man who had given Taeyong the fright of his life just a minute ago. He kicked the gun away before the man could get to it and then crouched on the ground next to him, holding a pistol to his head at point-blank range. Yuta looked pissed, but in a way that Taeyong had never seen before, like he could have skinned the guy alive and enjoyed it.

“Oi! What’s your name? What’s your position in the Yamaguchi-gumi? Are there others with you?” demanded Yuta.

“I’m not telling you anything, you, you fucker,” the man barely managed to get out with his ragged voice. “God damnit.”

Yuta stood back up and put his foot on the man’s thigh, just above his injured knee, pushing down. The man howled and Taeyong’s stomach churned at the horrifying scene.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” asked Yuta, laughing mirthlessly. “I know what you guys are up to. Seems foolish to try starting a gang war after such successful coexistence, but your leader’s always been a bit dim, hasn’t he?” Yuta nudged the man’s head with his gun as Taeyong started smelling iron.

“Shategashira, should we leave I –” Taeyong began, but Yuta cut him off, singularly focused.

“We have another three minutes or so until the police show up. Alright,” he continued, turning his attention back to his victim. “Never mind your name and rank. Tell me though, are you guys really going to go through with this? What are you doing with Minatozaki Sana?”

The man spat. “All I’ll say is that you Inagawa bastards will get what’s coming to you!” he panted. “We’ve let you have Tokyo for too long. You know how easily we’d take you down if we just tried? You think you’re intimidating? Fuck you.”

Yuta tutted, “that’s really too bad; you’ve wasted your chances. If your men are so confident why don’t they just attack already instead of sending in useless assassins like yourself?”

Yuta shot the man right through the head and Taeyong nearly shrieked, turning his head away immediately when he thought he saw something a little too pink to be blood hitting the brick wall on his left. He wanted to scream – wanted to ask Yuta how the hell he could bring himself to do that – but he found that he couldn’t speak. He realized all of a sudden that they were in public, noticing in terror that there were pedestrians trying to get a view of the alley.

“Hurry,” Yuta instructed, and Taeyong followed in horrified and awed silence until they reached the back door of Johnny’s pachinko bar.

Yuta stopped before going inside and clapped his palms over Taeyong’s shoulders. “Sorry you had to see that,” he said, lips curling just slightly. To Taeyong’s surprise, he didn’t feel any need to push Yuta away, despite knowing now the kind of shit he could do. “But remember all that to remind yourself that this is no joke.”

Taeyong nodded, eyes glued on Yuta’s, still in a bit of a stupor. “You need to stop apologizing,” he said, allowing himself a small smile. “It’s your ride and I’m just someone who fell into the sidecar. It’s not your fault and I’m not your responsibility.”

Yuta let out a breathy laugh. In the distance, Taeyong heard the quavering notes of police sirens.

“We should get into the party,” said Yuta, “but before we do, thank you. You saved me, Taeyong.”

Taeyong couldn’t even process the statement before Yuta was turning and slipping through the door.

The music which had been seeping through the door came at Taeyong with a pulverizing intensity when he got inside. He found himself in a grimy pachinko hall with machines, booths, and orange lighting. On the wall next to the door was a fully stocked bar manned by a yellow-Hawaiian-shirt-clad Johnny. Every member of the Inagawa-kai’s 15th Tora regiment had congregated around the bar along with Jaehyun and a few young women Taeyong didn’t recognize. The room was cloudy with smoke, but despite the assault on their lungs, Mark and Donghyuck had cleared a couple tables in the middle of the room to do some kind of pre-choreographed dance to the song that was currently playing. Taeyong was pretty sure it was “Back on the Chain Gang” by the Pretenders.

There was a general noise of excitement when Yuta made his way into the room, followed by a smaller whoop for Taeyong.

“You made it!” said Johnny, gleefully.

“Man, you look like shit, Shategashira ,” observed Jungwoo.

“Oh yeah?” mocked Yuta, “while guess what, I’m still sexier than you so who’s the real winner here?”

“Oooooh shit! You just got destroyed, man,” Mark interjected, pausing his routine. Jungwoo rolled his eyes.

Taeyong wanted to plaster himself against the wall like one of the traditional watercolor prints of tigers that Johnny had up. He couldn’t understand how Yuta’s demeanor could change so dramatically so quickly.

“In all seriousness, though,” said Yuta, “today has not been easy.”

“Oh yeah?” Johnny asked, “come sit. I’ll make you a drink and you can decompress. You too, Taeyong.”

Johnny served Taeyong a Sapporo (“that’s all you want?”) and broke out the Suntory he kept for special occasions for Yuta as Yuta recounted their encounter with the Yamaguchi-gumi. By the end, everyone was stunned into a brief silence as David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance,” played like an ironic joke in the background.

“Shit,” said Doyoung, “this is going to throw a wrench in things. At least we know their plan. But they can’t know we know.”

“Agreed,” said Yuta, sipping his whiskey. “Anyway, I know this is a bit of a bomb for us, but this was supposed to be a fun night and I didn’t come here with the intention of bumming you all out. We’ll have plenty of time to work it out tomorrow.”

“Wait!” said Donghyuck, approaching Taeyong at the bar. “Johnny, can I get a shot of shochu?”

Taeyong looked at Donghyuck with curious eyes, still a bit scared of the kid.

“I propose a toast,” Donghyuck declared once he’d been handed his drink, “to our new man Taeyong for showing his stuff and watching out for our Shategashira !”

He and Taeyong exchanged a smile as Taeyong protested weakly. No one heard him.

“ Kanpai !” the whole room yelled.

Taeyong cringed. “ Kanpai…eyy…arigato, arigato …” he mumbled, doing jazz hands for some reason.

“Now LET’S DANCE!” yelled Taeil from somewhere behind the bar, and everyone spluttered laughter at his enthusiastic drunken English. It didn’t deter a girl in a blue silk minidress from sauntering over to him, though. Hoo, wouldn’t that be easy? thought Taeyong, taking a swig of his beer.

One beer turned into two; then three, then four, then who knows how many? The relative mildness of the drink was stopping even lightweight Taeyong from acting out, but he did note with a bit of concern that he hadn’t eaten anything since that onigiri at lunch. Maybe he should stop.

“Need another?” asked Johnny. Or not .

“Sure.” A very pretty girl in a printed knit dress came up behind Johnny while he was getting another Sapporo from the fridge. With the short-sleeved shirt Johnny had on, Taeyong could see all the intricate tattoos which practically writhed over his arms. He realized that he’d never seen Yuta’s arms before, wondering if they looked like that too.

Taeyong watched apathetically as the girl tried to dance against Johnny and he whispered to her that she needed to calm down while he got his friend a drink. Taeyong wished, stupidly, that it was him and Yuta. He tried to remind himself that Yuta was a sociopath who didn’t want him anyway, but sadly, that didn’t help.

“You want a shot in this?” Johnny finally asked, referring to the beer, more of a suggestion than a question. “A shot for the shooter?”

“Why not?” Taeyong wondered aloud by way of an answer, ignoring the dreading feeling which came back at the mention of the shooting. Johnny poured a shot of shochu in the beer and handed it back to Taeyong. The resulting beverage already made Taeyong’s head hurt in anticipation of the next morning.

“Mina-chan,” Johnny snapped sardonically when the girl tried again to get a rise out of him, “why don’t you get to know Taeyong here? He’s new; you’ll like him. Talk about knee-capping bad guys or makeup or something, I don’t care!” Taeyong flinched at the mention of makeup, wondering if it was a subtle jab at his sexuality. He figured it was nothing though, while also making a mental note that Johnny was a bit of a dick when drunk.

Mina sat down on the stool next to Taeyong, sighing and sipping from her lemon sour. Then she smiled, and Taeyong was knocked out by the sheer aesthetic beauty of it.

“Hey,” she said. “Man of the hour.”

Taeyong tripped over a response, finally settling lamely on “I don’t know about that.”

“Oi!” Taeil was yelling somewhere, so loudly that Taeyong and Mina had to place their conversation on pause. “Johnny!”

“Yeah?” said Johnny, holding a rag and looking up from a shelf under the bar.

“Do these machines work?” asked Taeil, looking pretty out of it at this point as he fawned over the pachinko machines.

“Like, in general?”

“No, right now.”

Johnny sighed. “Not really, Tae, I turned them off. Why do you care?”

“I wanna play!” Taeil slurred. Taeyong giggled when he saw Doyoung make a face that communicated something along the lines of ‘kill me now’ and down the rest of his highball.

“You don’t wanna play that anyway, man,” said Johnny, throwing the rag over his shoulder. “They’re rigged. I don’t want you losing a bunch of money and then blaming me tomorrow.”

“Rigged? Really?” asked Taeil, incredulous. “That’s kind of crooked, man.”

Johnny threw his hands up in exasperation.

“A n y w a y,” Mina restarted. “So, you’re new. How did that happen?”

Taeyong recounted the story of how he had fallen into his position with the Inagawa-kai and would probably be going insane if it weren’t for Yuta, funnily enough. He omitted the part where he pined for a week and then got flatly rejected.

Apparently, the situation behind the bar was continuing to deteriorate even past Taeil’s outbursts, because once Taeyong finished the broad strokes of his story, there was yet another interruption.

Jaehyun, who had spent most of the gathering sat in a booth, flirting with a girl, came out of nowhere into the center of the space and pointed at Yuta, who was in the middle of a conversation with Mark.

“Yuta-san! My friend! I have been dared to wrestle you!” He was grinning and looking hyper charged and chilled out at the same time.

Yuta balked. “Me?? You really want to do that?”

“I’ve been dared!” Jaehyun repeated. “A true man must fight with honor when the occasion is upon him!”

Mark started to do the thing where he spazzed out all over the place instead of laughing. Now the whole room was balking.

“I think he needed to be cut off a while ago,” Taeyong whispered to Mina. She just sighed.

“I bet you there’s something a lot stronger than booze in him,” she said, voice resigned.

“Well alright then,” Yuta agreed, getting up just like that and rolling up his sleeves to reveal the tattoos Taeyong had figured would be there as Jungwoo and Mark cleared some tables away to make room.

“To the death!” said Jaehyun, pointing at Yuta again.

“Um – no!” yelled Johnny.

“Let’s ignore them,” Mina suggested, swiveling her stool to face Taeyong.

“Sounds good.” The two of them clinked glasses as the sounds of a physical struggle mixed with the rhythm of “Cat’s Eye” by Anri coming from the jukebox.

“They’re tiring, huh?” Mina prompted.

“Tell me about it,” Taeyong felt the hard alcohol in his drink burning the back of his throat as he took a sip. “You ever seen someone get killed, Mina?”

Mina’s expression looked flatly put-off for a moment before she gathered it back up. “No, Taeyong, I can’t say that I have.”

“Sorry,” Taeyong said, feeling like an idiot. “That’s really morbid, huh? I just – I’m still kind of in shock and this party’s been a lot for me to process.”

“Yeah,” said Mina, eyes skimming over her knees. “I bet. You know how I met Johnny?”

“How?”

“The oldest profession,” she said.

Taeyong’s brow furrowed for a second. “Oh! Oh…”

“It’s alright, I know it’s unglamorous,” said Mina.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to sound judgmental – I promise.”

“No, no, I know. But listen, I think if I was a guy who’d grown up in my same situation I’d probably be sitting where you are, and in all honestly after watching the kind of things Johnny gets himself into, I really don’t know if I’d be equipped to handle it. You want my advice?”

“Sure?”

Mina leaned in so she could whisper over the fight and the music. “Do what you can to get out of this as quick as possible. I know you’re worried higher ups than these guys will track you down if you try to run off, and you’re right about that, but the minute the Oyabun and Wakagashira decide you can be trusted you should remove yourself. That’s what I’d do.”

Taeyong nodded, a little too out of it to know how to respond. He settled on a mildly accusatory “But you stay.”

“I’m not the one getting shot at,” said Mina. “Today? That was just the tip of the iceberg.” She shrugged and looked at Johnny, “besides, I have someone pulling me in.”

I do too , Taeyong wanted to say but couldn’t, only in part because it wasn’t fully true.

Mina turned her attention to the wrestling match happening on the tile floor and Taeyong followed suit. Jaehyun was cackling and holding a yelling Yuta down below him. The image made Taeyong feel like he had consumed something stronger than alcohol.

Johnny came around to Taeyong and Mina on his way to the jukebox. “Watch this,” he said with a smirk. After fiddling with it for a couple seconds the telltale opening strings of “Come on Eileen” filled the room and the fight was being broken up in favor of dancing. Everyone jumped around, yelling whatever version of the lyrics they could and making fun of the actual English speakers when they admitted even they didn’t understand what was being said. This is how Taeyong came to learn that Johnny and Mark had each grown up in North America as the children of yakuza outpost members, and Jaehyun had gone to boarding school in Connecticut.

The drinks, bouncing around, and singing were really starting to shake the memory of earlier in the day out of Taeyong’s brain and by the end of the night, he was barely worrying about Mina’s warnings.

***

Everyone had gone home except for Johnny, Jaehyun, Taeyong, and Yuta. The former two were in the alley having a smoke and getting some air, so this left Taeyong and Yuta alone inside.

Yuta let out a big breath and spun around in the middle of the room. His hair and clothing were stiff with dried sweat and he had some bruises on his arms and his left cheek.

“What a day!”

“You alright?” asked Taeyong, parking himself in a nearby chair and eyeing his boss’s mild injuries.

“Aish,” Yuta jested, flexing his arms as if he were really in pain. Then, he broke out into a grin and laughed, waving Taeyong off. “Nah, I’m alright. Would’a had him if Johnny hadn’t intervened.”

Taeyong giggled. “Sure.”

“Oi!” Yuta started laughing harder. “I’ll have you punished for insubordination!”

Sounds good . “Sorry, Shategashira. You’re right; you are the manliest.”

Yuta hopped into a walk towards the jukebox. “We should dance!”

How was he not completely out of energy?? After a moment, “Overkill” by Men at Work started to play.

“I love this song,” Yuta remarked as if he hadn’t chosen it. “Come on, dance! That’s an order.”

Taeyong got up sluggishly and started to move in rhythm with Yuta from across the room. Yuta kept pulling silly faces and making Taeyong laugh in his way where the sounds seemed to keep getting caught in his throat on their way out.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Yuta asked.

“It was nice,” said Taeyong. “I felt like part of the group.”

“Good,” said Yuta, dancing closer and eventually getting right into Taeyong’s personal space, outstretching his hands next to Taeyong’s hips, palms up. Slowly, Taeyong placed his hands over Yuta’s, staring his dance partner in the eyes and knowing that his must have appeared full of uncertainty. As if by a natural force, Taeyong’s fingers slipped into the slots between Yuta’s and they swayed like that silently for a few seconds. It was a good feeling, and Taeyong let his eyes close just long enough to enjoy it.

“Yu – Shategashira ,”

“Mm?”

“What are you doing?”

Yuta looked back into Taeyong’s eyes and then flickered his gaze away, a breathy smile tracing over his lips.

“I’m thanking you for saving my life,” he said, plainly.

“You already did that,” Taeyong all but whispered.

“Not in the way I wanted to,” Yuta mumbled. “Not in the way you deserve.”

Yuta pulled a centimeter closer and Taeyong felt like his skin was an electric grid. He let out an involuntary gasp as Yuta sighed close to his ear.

“Tell me, Taeyong,” he continued, voice thick with liquor, “do you think I’m a monster?”

“Think you’re a monster? No! No, Shategashira , don’t be ridiculous. I don’t think that. I was just – scared. I know I said I wasn’t earlier today but that was before…I don’t think you’re a monster. Anyone with your position would have done the same thing – would have been expected to, even.”

“You’re a very kind person, Taeyong,” Yuta observed. “I hope you know that.”

“Thank you…” Taeyong smiled to himself at the compliment.

Yuta pulled back an inch and flashed his gaze over Taeyong’s face. “Would it be too much for me to kiss you?” he asked.

Taeyong felt like all his organs were shutting down at once. How was this happening? Hadn’t Yuta said no? Hadn’t that ultimately been the right decision for both of their safety? Taeyong froze, only able to watch Yuta’s beautiful face and babble god knows what – he didn’t know. Finally, he managed to spit out, “but I thought you didn’t want me.”

Yuta looked genuinely hurt. “I never said that, Taeyong,” he clarified. “And what I did say was a mistake. I’m trying to make up for that.”

Taeyong nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay I can kiss you?”

“Mm-hm.”

And that was all it took. Yuta pressed his soft lips to Taeyong’s and they stayed there like that as any awareness of the outside world grew fuzzy. It was gentle enough that Taeyong didn’t know if it was perfect or if he wanted more. Fortunately or unfortunately, he didn’t have to decide right then, because just as he was beginning to melt fully into the kiss, he heard Johnny and Jaehyun chatting as they walked back inside. Yuta pulled away quickly, but even if neither man had seen anything, the position Taeyong was in with him was incriminating enough. Taeyong’s face flushed so hard it almost turned violet as Johnny and Jaehyun snickered. Yuta, thankfully, was relatively cool enough to handle the situation.

“You two go on ahead. Taeyong and I will stay and lock up,” he offered.

“Alright, Shategashira ,” said Johnny slyly. “You do that.”

As the last two stragglers got ready to leave, Taeyong felt himself begin to panic. He was pretty sure all of Yuta’s friends knew about his sexuality, but he couldn’t remember if he had ever confirmed that fact or if he’d just inferred it. Finally, he was alone again with Yuta.

“Sorry about that,” said Yuta.

“I told you to stop apologizing to me,” Taeyong mumbled.

“Right.” Yuta sat next to Taeyong on a chair and pretended to zip his mouth shut. Taeyong laughed.

“They…know, right?” asked Taeyong and Yuta’s eyes went as round as coins.

“Oh, my god, yes! They do! Don’t worry about them. They’re obnoxious for other reasons.”

Taeyong finally let himself relax into his seat. “Good,” he breathed.

“Taeyong,” said Yuta, his voice taking on a darkness it didn’t have before and Taeyong looked at him expectantly. “Come here.”

Taeyong stood and traversed the couple of feet between them. Yuta patted his lap and Taeyong thought he was going to faint. He didn’t. Instead, he straddled Yuta hesitantly and let the man below him look him up and down, gaze sharp.

“Is this good?” he asked.

Yuta skimmed his hands lightly over the seams in Taeyong’s jeans. “Yeah it’s good,” he said. “You’re so good.”

Taeyong closed his eyes at that and let out a choked sound.

“Ah,” remarked Yuta, using his right hand to ruffle Taeyong’s hair and then brush over his cheek. “Yonggie likes praise, then?”

“Mm, mm-hm,” Taeyong confirmed, leaning into the soothing movements.

“Can I touch you?”

Taeyong nodded. “Yes please.”

This time, Yuta let his palms run flat over Taeyong’s thighs and up to his hips, causing Taeyong to wriggle in his lap. Yuta pulled Taeyong forward into another kiss, deeper and more insistent this time. It felt sloppy and wet and Taeyong absolutely loved it; couldn’t help himself from grinding his hips just a little bit, although when Yuta noticed this, he tried to hold him in place.

When Yuta pulled away, Taeyong let his face hover nearby, pink and panting. Yuta’s lips were glossy and somewhat swollen, and he was looking at Taeyong like he was about to disappear and needed to be studied thoroughly so he could be remembered. Yuta’s hands roamed over Taeyong’s back, slipping under his shirt.

“ Shategashira ,” Taeyong said in surprise before he had adjusted to the temperature of Yuta’s skin. Yuta burst out in whooping laughter, throwing his head back in a way that made Taeyong both nervous and aroused. God , Taeyong thought, hands going to his mouth out of nervous habit, Yuta was going to devastate him.

When Yuta came back up for air, he stared at Taeyong in mock incredulity. “Oh, stop playing with your lips,” he said. “You’re always doing that and it drives me crazy.”

Taeyong ripped his hand away, embarrassed. “What was so funny?”

“If we’re going to do this, you need to drop the title, Taeyong. Just call me by my name,” Yuta explained, holding Taeyong’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger as if chiding a child. Taeyong loved it. All of it. He smirked.

“What if I like it?” he challenged.

Now it was Yuta smirking. “Oh? Taeyong likes titles, hm?” he leaned forward to start kissing up Taeyong’s neck and Taeyong mewled. “You like feeling like I’m in charge, even now,” he teased between kisses, “hm, sweetheart?”

That was all Taeyong could take. He started grinding again and this time, Yuta didn’t stop him.

“Yes, Shategashira . I like it so much.” Yuta sucked a love bite into the skin over Taeyong’s collarbone and Taeyong hissed.

“Pretty,” Yuta admired absently when he pulled away. Taeyong was so lost in feeling that it took him until this moment to notice the pressure that had started to build against his thigh. He looked down at where Yuta was straining against his black jeans. If he was being honest, he was getting a little uncomfortable himself.

“Yuta,” he breathed, forgetting all about power play for a second. Yuta chuckled.

“I know,” he said, “I didn’t really mean for that to happen but here we are.”

Taeyong raised his eyebrows cutely. “Would you like me to help you with that, Shategashira ?” He was ready to drop to his knees at a moment’s notice, so he felt a little disappointed when Yuta waved him off.

“No, no. Let me handle it. I have an idea.”

Taeyong watched silently as Yuta pulled himself out of his pants and started to stroke himself, looking directly at Taeyong. Taeyong’s eyes went wide and he licked his lips. Yuta’s wasn’t the biggest cock Taeyong had ever seen, but it wasn’t small either and what it lacked in length it made up for in girth.

“Fuck, Taeyong, unzip your pants.”

Taeyong made quick work of his fly and let Yuta reach out and pull down the front of his boxers. Yuta pumped Taeyong a couple of times, making Taeyong gasp when his thumb traced over the head of his cock, then instructed him to move up a little on his lap. Taeyong watched as Yuta spit on his palm and wrapped his hand around both of them, letting out a gut-punched moan at the contact.

“Shit, Shategashira , ahh.”

Taeyong tried to let go and focus on the slide of Yuta’s hand on one side and his cock on the other, but he couldn’t help thinking how lewd this was: him perched on Yuta’s lap, face mottled with red splotches, starting to leak onto Yuta’s hand and the clothing that they were both still wearing.

Yuta moaned and Taeyong felt himself twitch, hips jerking into the partial ring of Yuta’s grip. Pleasure radiated from where Yuta was touching him all the way up to his head, stopping to pool hotly at the base of his stomach.

“You asked if I thought about you,” Yuta murmured, speeding up his rhythm. “I should have told you the truth, which is that I did. All the time. Sometimes at night I’d imagine you on my lap like this, or in my bed.”

Taeyong made a choked noise and Yuta leaned forward to pepper kisses over his cheeks. “But you’re so much better in real life.” Yuta made a sound in Taeyong’s ear somewhere between a moan and a sigh and laughed darkly. “Did you think about me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yes, Shategashira , I did. I tried not to, but I didmmmmmmm…” Taeyong cut himself off with a groan when Yuta pushed his thumb over Taeyong’s slit. The sensations were starting to overwhelm him.

“Yuta?”

“Yeah, baby?”

Taeyong shivered, his hips beginning to twitch in fits and starts.

“I’m gonna come.”

“Whenever you need to, Yonggie.” Yuta tried to speed up his strokes one more time. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

Taeyong held onto Yuta’s shoulders and Yuta kissed him again as he spasmed through his release, the sounds he made getting muffled by Yuta’s mouth. When he pulled away, Yuta was grinning and still stroking him through his aftershocks, the movements slicked now by a new layer of Taeyong’s come. The sight made whatever was left of Taeyong’s brain go numb.

All of a sudden, Taeyong was so sensitive that he felt like needles were pricking at his skin.

“Ah, ah, okay, stop, Shategashira , please,” he pleaded, squirming.

Yuta allowed Taeyong to pull himself away and closed his eyes, focused on achieving his own release. Taeyong took advantage of the moment to kneel on the floor between Yuta’s thighs, and when Yuta reopened his eyes, he was the one twitching.

“Oh, my god Taeyong,” he growled.

“It’s okay, I like this. Please, Shategashira , I want your come.”

Taeyong opened his mouth and stared up at Yuta. Within seconds, his pose had the desired effect: Yuta was groaning and coming over Taeyong’s mouth. Taeyong licked his lips as Yuta watched, spasming and rubbing himself slowly; his heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. Taeyong shimmied a little closer and lapped innocently at the head of Yuta’s cock, and Yuta threw his hands over his face.

“Ooooh, my god, Yong…”

Taeyong kept at it until Yuta started to squirm, reveling in the idea that he had made the cool, collected badass that was Nakamoto Yuta come undone like this.

“Alright, alright,” Yuta said, guiding Taeyong back to his lap with a hand on his scalp. Once there, Yuta stuck his dick back in his underwear haphazardly and brushed his fingers through Taeyong’s hair.

“Did you like it, Shategashira ?” asked Taeyong, eyes blown out.

“Like it? I thought you were going to kill me there for a second. You were so good, getting on your knees for me.”

Taeyong giggled.

“Did you like it, Taeyong?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I liked it a lot. Thank you.”

Yuta chuckled, pulling Taeyong in for one more kiss. He sighed after.

“Okay, I know Johnny has clean towels in here somewhere. Don't go anywhere; I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay.” Yuta pecked Taeyong on the nose for good measure before he stood, and when Taeyong got up to let Yuta off the chair he almost fell over, barely managing to steady himself.

Yuta returned with a clean one of Johnny’s bar rags that he’d run under some water and cleaned them both off.

“Okay,” he said thoughtfully. “That’s better.” He considered the rag. “I’m going to need to bring this home with me to wash.”

Taeyong blushed and Yuta pulled him into his side, looking around. “Not a very romantic setting, is it?”

“No,” agreed Taeyong.

“Next time we’ll go somewhere better and I’ll make love to you properly,” said Yuta, casually.

Next time.

Yuta continued, “we should probably lock up like I said we would and get out of here, hm?”

“Yeah.”

Yuta kissed Taeyong’s cheek and practically charged towards the front door, throwing Taeyong a small key. “I’m getting the front, so you get the back, okay?”

“Okay.”

Taeyong felt like he was high for the rest of the night and could barely get himself to sleep despite the knowledge that tomorrow would be a busy day. He couldn’t believe what had happened. He wished he could visit the version of himself that existed only days earlier and share the good news. Maybe, he thought, this whole insane situation he’d found himself in would work out for the best after all.

9 notes · View notes

clairenvk · 5 years

Text

r + e fic rec

a collection of 40+ completed reddie fics i’ve read on ao3 and loved; ranging from soft to cute to funny to ridiculous to angsty. you may have read some of this, you may not have, but these are all worth your time. if you read any of these and enjoy them then remember to leave a kudos and a comment for the author to let them know that you liked it!

✨ - Fav 😎 - fun/funny 💕 - Soft 💜 - cute (cute cute!) 🌹 - emotional / atmospheric ⚠️ - angsty ⚔️ - nsfw

💕 up off the floor - kaspbrak_kid

“In a world where we can kill a fucking clown from space, Eddie Kaspbrak doesn’t get to die from a stab wound."

15.3k words. 6 chapters.

Note - the Most soft. tender. taking care of each other and getting together. this author also has a wip that’s a lot more sad but with as much Yearning as this one so i’d recommend you check their stuff out.

💕 And All The Time He’s Mumbling - monarchyofroses

“It suits you.” Richie frowned. “Huh?” “Being in love,” Ben clarified. “It suits you.” Richie smiled, then, so hard that it made Ben wonder how his face had not splitted in two. “I’m in fucking limerence, man.”

2.7k words. 1 chapter

Note - ben and richie have a Conversation about the loves of their lives basically. Truly Soft.

💕 What He’s Mumbling? - monarchyofroses

"But. But that's what you do for..." "...A friend," Maggie finished for him, or well, not exactly for him, considering he was about to come out. Richie to God, if you exist and this is your revenge for my atheism, it's not funny. Also, you suck.

3.5k words. 1 chapter.

Note - coming out! i love the toziers. part 2 of the same series the previous fic is from.

💕 💜 No Mistakes - usnavi

When Richie Tozier tells Eddie Kaspbrak he loves him, they're watching Jurassic Park and Eddie's wearing his clothes like it's all meant to be this way.

1.4k words. 1 chapter.

✨ 💜 Richie Tozier: Come Out and Play - piginawig

Richie Tozier: Come Out & Play, a new Netflix special! Comedian Richie Tozier is back after a very public mental breakdown. And he's ready to (over)share.

5.7k words. 1 chapter.

Note - My personal favorite version of this trope.

😎 Richie Tozier, an Apple Music Listener - plinys

Apple Music ✓ @AppleMusic Thanks for the support @trashmouth! We love to see loyal #AppleMusic fans! Apple Music ✓ @AppleMusic Also, in unrelated news, the #AppleMusic recommended song of the day is “thank u, next” by Ariana Grande.

1.2k words. 1 chapter.

Note - Post Chapter 2. I’m a sucker for fics involving social media. Also, this is funny and lighthearted and i love it.

😎 Retweet. - plinys

richie tozier ✓ @trashmouth what did i miss lol

3k words. 1 chapter.

Note - Post Chapter 2.

😎 💜 ⚔️ Let’s Hear It For The Boy - sloppybitch

Eddie’s just trying to see if he’s not alone when he downloads Grindr on his phone. It’s by pure, terrifying coincidence that one of the first messages he receives on there is from none other than Richie freaking Tozier. Long story short: trashmouth;) (11:03PM): oh me, oh my. fancy seeing u here Eddie (11:33PM): holy FUCKING SHIT.

9.8k words. 1 chapter.

Note - Part 1 of an ongoing series.

😎 💜 ⚔️ Let’s Give The Boy a Hand - sloppybitch

After finding each other on Grindr and sharing a couple of saucy texts and a phone call that would make a nun faint, Richie and Eddie find each other in the clubhouse, and they... talk. Sure, they talk. Let’s call it talking. Beverly, meanwhile, discovers that none of the Losers have ever gotten drunk, and what’s being a teenager without breaking a few drinking laws? Ben has a free house, and Eddie has never been more afraid of a game of Truth or Dare in his entire fucking life.

24k words. 1 chapter.

Note - Part 2 of the series the previous fic is part of.

✨ 💜 Five Times The Losers Gave Richie Permission - toomuchrootbeer

The Losers keep trying to tell Richie something, but he's never been great at taking a hint.

10.7k words. 1 chapter.

Note - anything that has all of the losers really present in their fics is the loml. some mentions of period typical racism and homophobia but no slurs, mainly mentioned for context of the time.

✨ 💜 Husband and Husband - thatsuperawkwardgirl

Richie gets the idea at the end of kindergarten, when the teacher has everyone do projects on their families. The class talks about how some families have moms and dads who are married, and some don’t. Richie being…well, Richie, he goes straight home and asks his parents why they got married if they didn’t have to. Richie learns about marriage and love, and comes up with an excellent plan.

7.8k words. 1 chapter.

Note - the sweetest, most adorable fic ever. couldn’t stop smiling. Part 1 of an ongoing series.

💜 A Good Husband - thatsuperawkwardgirl

Eddie sits in a chair in front of the principal’s desk, bouncing his leg anxiously--a habit he picked up from Richie, that annoying little twerp. Mrs. Smith is calling his mother for the third time in the last hour, and Eddie knows she won’t be picking up; Wednesday mornings are when she runs her errands and doesn’t return until late afternoon. This is the perfect time to get suspended, Eddie really has to pat himself on the back for that one. Eddie gets in trouble at school for fighting, and Maggie Tozier comes to pick him up.

2.5k words. 1 chapter.

Note - Part 2 of Married Life, the same series the previous fic is a part of. Truly so ridiculously cute it makes me want to scream.

😎 💜 light as a feather (got you and i together) - anniebibananie

RICHIE: why the fuck does eddie look so cute today RICHIE: his sweater sleeves keep falling down over his palms, like how could I see that and not think “I know exactly how to keep those sleeves up, just hold my hand” BEN: richie this is so sweet! BEN: but I feel like you didn’t mean to send this to me? RICHIE: This message will self-destruct in five seconds. [or Richie accidentally texts Ben about his feelings for Eddie and everyone gets involved]

1.6k words. 1 chapter.

Note - could not stop smiling the whole way through.

✨💜 the years go by like days - georgiestauffenberg

It’s Eddie he wants to get a hold of, though, and he does, tucking him under his arm, and ruffling his hair, making him laugh. He’s startled when Eddie looks at him with such happy, shining eyes. And, for a split-second, he’s tempted to kiss him right then, right there in front of everyone. He wants to. Badly. He doesn’t. He leans in, instead, and he smacks a loud, wet kiss to Eddie’s cheek, punctuating it with a “mwah!” He does it again and again. “I’m so proud of my little Eds Spagheds!” “Get off me!” Eddie says, laughing and shoving him away, swatting at his hands. AU. in the 27 years in-between, Richie and Eddie forget a lot, but they don't forget each other.

121.9k words. 4 chapters.

Note - make sure you have the time before starting this because i couldn’t stop once i started. god. really good.

💕 come on, come on - Chokingonholywater

“Yo, Eddie, play some music, will ya?” When Richie asks Eddie to put on some music in the car that day after school, Eddie doesn't think anything of it. It's a familiar request; he knows the passcode to Richie's phone, knows where Spotify is, knows what Richie likes to listen to while he drives. But what Eddie doesn't know is why, exactly, there's suddenly a playlist his name on it - literally.

8.6k words. 1 chapter.

Note - They’re in Love. and they have a playlist to prove it.

💕 sleepover - sleqnir

“You jealous?” Richie tilts his head. “Jennifer is kinda hot.” He’s referring to Ben’s girlfriend. Eddie’s face falls. “Oh. Um… no. I’m happy for him. I just…” “Want it too?” Richie’s jaw clenches. His chest aches in a way all too familiar. “A girlfriend? For yourself?” Eddie’s looking at him nervously. “I want… a relationship. I guess.” Richie looks back up at the ceiling, giving another millionth sigh. “Yeah, well… don’t sweat it so much. You’re not the only one.”“You want a girlfriend?” “I want a... relationship.” He mimics Eddie’s words.

2.5k words. 1 chapter.

🌹 ⚔️ the anatomy of a joke - crescenteluce

He trails off and Bev raises an eyebrow. ‘So, you being in bed together fits in there how exactly?’ ‘No, Jesus, Bev.’ Eddie says and Richie, horrifyingly, feels his cheeks heat under Bev’s suspicious look. Something needs to be done, so he plucks Eddie’s phone from his hands. ‘I am appalled by your implications, Beverly.’ He says sternly, trying to ignore the blood still not quite done rushing to his face. ‘I would have you know that I’d never defile Eddie like that, the poor man’s 40 year old and still a virgin and if I’d have the honor of-’ He’s cut off by Eddie trying to wrestle the phone away from him as Bev cackles delightedly.

11.7k words. 1 chapter.

💜 say what you mean (out loud) - Redburn

Richie can’t help it when something heavy refuses to leave his stomach, something relentless and daunting. He looks at Eddie and can’t help but want, can’t help but need, watching this boy watch the stars and thinking he would be happy to spend the rest of his life just like this, right here standing next to him. Or, Richie realizes he likes Eddie and promptly goes through the five stages of grief.

7.4k words. 1 chapter.

Note - Good ol’ fluff with slight internalized homophobia and a whole lot of yearning.

💜 across the gap - sondersoflight

“You fucking stupid asshole,” Eddie says but he is smiling when he leans forward, grabbing Richie by the lapels of the ridiculous bright yellow shirt with dancing avocados he is wearing. “I’m the fucking love of your life.”

6.4k words. 1 chapter.

💕 💜 Five Times Richie Kisses Eddie and One Time He Doesn’t Have To - multifandomtakeover

Eddie Kaspbrak is a little inexperienced in the kissing department and Richie Tozier is more than willing to help him out.

5.7k words. 1 chapter.

✨ 🌹 💕 ⚠️ No Saints, No Sinners, No Devil As Well - saooharine

Andy Muschietti looked at Eddie Kaspbrak so now I feel obligated to repair the damage and make it gayer.

Following Richie from the sewer showdown and to the hospital with Eddie and the Losers Club by his side.

6.2k words. 1 chapter.

⚔️ In This Cold Heart - pineapplecrushface

The future Richie sees while he's caught in the deadlights gives him a chance to save Eddie. In the year afterward, they both try to follow Stan's advice.

16.9k words. 1 chapter.

💕 💜 ⚠️ 🌹 Wouldn’t it be nice? - podcastalien

Richie wonders what exactly is supposed to be so great about being a kid as he tries to carve initials into the kissing bridge.

2.5k words. 1 chapter.

⚔️ Men of Fall - kaboomslang

Do you remember? He watches his own hand slide closer along the armrest. Do memories transfer by touch, in this fucked up magic town? Remember, Richie, please, and tell me I wasn’t imagining things.

7k words. 1 chapter.

💜 Any Man’s Game - tossertozier

It's two months before graduation, and Richie and Eddie can turn virtually anything into a competition. Even kissing.

10.5k words. 3 chapters.

💜 ⚠️ ⚔️ This safe place - tinyarmedtrex

Eddie asks Richie to pretend to be his boyfriend at his family reunion. What’s the worst that can happen?

31k words. 14 chapters.

⚠️ ⚔️ Stay for the Storm - inoubliable

Richie and Eddie had become friends almost on sight. Since they met, most of Eddie's time in Los Angeles has involved Richie in some way. It's a little different, now that they're both famous. It's a little different, now that they're sleeping together. Well, to be fair, they've been sleeping together for a long time, but. No one knows, not even their friends. Eddie has been very careful about that. It's just not the sort of publicity he needs. So when Beverly calls him that sunny Thursday morning, the last thing he expects her to say is, "You're fucking Richie?"

20.8k words. 1 chapter.

💜 and this is who we are - sunsetozier

He realizes, suddenly, that being in a position like this meant nothing to him two weeks ago. At the time, it was completely normal, holding no real meaning other than comfort and tradition – after all, him and Eddie have been disgustingly cuddly with one another since they were kids, even though they’d usually bicker while holding each other close, much to the annoyance (and entertainment) of their friends. Now, however, Richie can feel his heart skip a beat in his chest, an undeniable thundering that echoes loudly in his ears. He can picture his younger self, as much of an oblivious idiot as he may have been, soaking in the warmth and the affection of Eddie’s touch when they hugged, shoved, or even just nudged one another. It’s funny, really, how much changes once you’re aware of how you feel. [In which Eddie and Beverly lie to their friends for five years before finally coming out, much to the surprise of one supposedly straight Richie Tozier.]

40.7k words. 8 chapters.

💜 hawaii hottie - sunsetozier

Letting his eyes flutter shut in order to avoid everyone’s gazes, Richie meekly explains, “I got another letter from Eds, okay? And I know he’s on vacation, doing all these cool things, and I know Hawaii is, like, super sunny and everything, but- guys. Guys.” He stops, unable to force out the words he wants to. From somewhere off to his left, he hears Bill say, “Spit it out, man. What’s the big deal?”“ There was a polaroid in this letter,” Richie tells them. He would be embarrassed, but by this point they all know how smitten he is, so there’s no reason to be bashful as he practically whines out, “And he’s getting hotter.” [In which Eddie goes on vacation and Richie can't deal with it.]

4.6k words. 1 chapter.

💜 He Came In Through the Window - mischiefmanager

"It’s finally happened. I cannot fit through this goddamn window. I’m out of ideas." or Eddie enlists the help of two other Losers to help fix his bedroom window, and finally spills the beans about what's going on between him and Richie.

11.3k words. 1 chapter

💜 Home - mischiefmanager

“Tooooozier-Kaspbrak residence,” Richie says cheerfully, holding the phone up to his ear. “May I ask who—oh hello, Mrs. K! How the fuck are you?” Richie and Eddie living together in LA, being in love and dealing with Mrs. K long-distance.

6.9k words. 1 chapter.

✨ ⚠️ hit me baby one more time - theappleppielifestyle

Richie reaches up a shaking hand and puts it on Eddie’s stomach. “Uhhh,” Eddie says. “Is this a bit? Is this a really inopportune bit? ‘Cause I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Richie, but this is kind of an important moment-” “What the fuck,” Richie says, not for the first or last time, and lurches forwards to hug him. (Or, Richie gets stuck in a time loop.)

11.1k words. 1 chapter.

💕 are we living for the feeling? - michelllejones

“You’re such an idiot,” Eddie tells Richie with a frown. He snorts at that. “Says you. Your knees are all bloody. You fall off your bike or something?” He asks, and for a split second Eddie thinks he can hear genuine concern in his voice. He’s probably just imagining it, though, since Richie’s only ever concerned about two things: his dick, and the size of it.“ So what if I did?” Eddie bites back, feeling almost defensive. Richie should be the last person teasing him about falling off of a bike. Especially since Eddie watched him trip over his own foot less than a week ago! or, Eddie takes a tumble and goes to Richie for help.

4.5k words. 1 chapter.

💕 what would they say? - michelllejones

And despite telling Eddie he would, he doesn’t go home—at least not at first. He isn't sure what wills him to do it, but his bike takes him in the other direction, past the Barrens and to the street, right to the Kissing Bridge in all its vandalized glory. Slurs and poorly carved hearts and names he doesn’t recognize stare back at him as he digs into his jeans and pulls out his dad’s old pocketknife.

4.1k words. 1 chapter.

💕 back in the summer - michelllejones

“What?” Eddie snaps, feels immediately defensive. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?” Self consciously, he buries his nose into his comic book. Glares at Richie over the brim, frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He waits for Richie to take the bait, provide some half clever quip that will catapult them into some sort of argument, as is customary. But the taunt never comes. Instead, he reaches forward—with a look in his eyes that if Eddie didn’t know any better would let himself think is almost fond—takes a curl in between gentle fingers and says, “your hair’s longer,” in a tone so tender it is almost unrecognizable.

1.6k words. 1 chapter.

💕 ⚠️ savage - inoubliable

Eddie Kaspbrak is twelve years old. He's kissed for the first time. And then kissed again. -- "You're bisexual." Eddie has never said the word out loud before, and it feels a little taboo, but it also feels like a weight off his chest. "You like boys and girls. It isn't weird, and it isn't gross, and you aren't selfish because of it. You aren't dirty or disgusting. You're Richie Tozier, and you're my best friend. I'm Eddie Kaspbrak, and I'm an idiot. I get it."

3.7k words. 1 chapter

💕 💜 Morphine - inoubliable

Eddie Kaspbrak is fourteen years old. He's a lot more honest with himself when he's drugged. -- They all crowd around Eddie's bed, their faces shimmering a little. Eddie has to squint to make out their features, and he laughs once he does. They all look so worried. Eddie feels great. "Oh my God," Stan says, at the same time that Richie says, "He's high."

2k words. 1 chapter.

💕 We Were Here - inoubliable

Eddie Kaspbrak is fifteen years old. It's the first time he kisses Richie Tozier. -- Eddie has a couple of options, here. He can pretend he didn't just realize what Richie has been trying to tell him the whole time. He can pretend like Richie is just being a jerk when he flirts and teases and taunts. He can pretend like they're just friends, and then they can stay just friends, and nothing will change. Or he can kiss Richie. He kisses Richie.

2.3k words. 1 chapter.

💕 ⚔️ The Ever After - websters_lieb

Eddie lives, and life goes on. Or The story of how Richie and Eddie sort out their shit and realize that they've been in love the whole damn time while they work towards their happily ever afters.

20.8k words. 5 chapters.

⚠️ In the Glow of the Vending Machine - sentimentalscribe

“I can’t believe that I’m going to live an eternity in hellfire over a hypochondriac who would probably make sweet love to his inhaler given the chance.” Alternatively: Beverly Knows way before these chucklefucks do. Alternatively: It's the '80s in a small town and having a panicked confession to your best friend is not nearly as fun as it sounds.

3.5k words. 1 chapter.

💜 😎 eddie gets grindr - BookRockShooter

I shouldn’t be doing this, Eddie thinks as he opens his phone. Is this technically illegal? he thinks as he clicks the app store icon. Well, it’s definitely fucking wrong either way, he thinks as he types grindr into the search bar. - Eddie downloads grindr and rediscovers an old friend - and crush - on it.

2.1k words. 1 chapter.

⚠️ confessions in the dark - BookRockShooter

Richie nods to himself. “Okay. Talk. I can do that. Hey, you know a trope in movies I always hated? When, like, the main character’s love interest is fatally wounded and dy–” He trails off, staring at Eddie with a haunted look in his eyes. “Well. You know. And, uh, the main character chooses that exact moment to confess their undying love? Like, shit, they’ve always got the worst timing.” He laughs, short and shaky, and Eddie thinks, Oh my god. “So, what, they wait until the last moment to say something? Isn’t that fucked up? Because, now, they’ll never have time to… to be happy together.” His eyes are shiny and, suddenly, all Eddie wants to do is wipe away his tears. Wants to help him feel better, because Richie Tozier doesn’t deserve to be in so much pain, not on Eddie’s behalf. “Richie,” Eddie murmurs, and he hates himself for what he’s about to say. “Richie, I… I love you.” - *fix it fic for chapter 2 bc fuck canon reddie is real*

2.2k words. 1 chapter.

💜 😎 head lights pointed at the dawn - starkmccall

"You do realise this means people around the world are gonna hear about how much I love your dick, right?" Richie says, tucked behind Eddie in bed late one night.

He can almost see Eddie squint at him. "That's not actually a part of the show, is it?"

Post-Chapter Two. Eddie lives. Richie goes back to comedy.

3.2k words. 1 chapter.

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it #it chapter 2 #it chapter 1 #fic rec #reddie fic #my fic rec #i ramble #nhrfgsk i spent So long on this pls enjoy #im posting this as soon as i finish it #i can reblog it at a reasonable time later

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indigosandviolets · 4 years

Text

Reflections

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x OC x George Luz

Word Count: 2,771

Summary: Andrew reflects on his life after the loss of a portion of his ear. He and Luz joke and contemplate what Speirs has done. As Easy company starts the move to Carentan, Andrew feels the guilt begin to deep into him.

Part Five of We Happy Few

TW: internalized homophobia/transphobia in it (it’s not a lot, but it’s implied), implied period typical homophobia/transphobia

June 7th, 1944

D-Day +2

Andrew held the little mirror in his hand. The small, fragile piece of glass heavily contrasted the coarseness of Andrew’s calloused palm and fingers. He could see where his face was caked with mud, his cheeks just sunburned enough to make them turn pink, but not dark enough that his freckles didn’t show through. He had gotten a good deal of the blood off, but there were some parts on his inner ear where it was still caked up. He had tried to get rid of it, but the mangled flesh was still too sore to fully clean up like he wanted. It wasn’t going to get infected, hopefully, but he’d have to wait for Doc Roe to show up in order to make that call.

Andrew looked back at his face again. He was brought back to the mirror back at Toccoa. The once small man who didn’t know what the hell to do with a gun was now a killer -- a bonafide, sure enough, killer. He was still small, but he wasn’t puny — he was stronger now, he had hardened. His eyes had hardened, that’s how he could tell. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the lighting, but the once bright green had turned dark, almost cold, dead. But his eyes weren’t dead—he had seen dead eyes. Maybe he was just missing life.

He had done things he wished that no one else would have to do because that was what he was meant to do. He had started to adopt that standard US Army look. The rough man who had seen too many things for him to just let go of what happened.

Andrew remembered that look from his uncle. His uncle Andy always seemed like he hadn’t fully recovered from the war. He would be talking normally, having a good time, playing with him and Albert when they would say a certain thing and Uncle Andy would just slow down a bit. He’d stop and think and then the smile would drop from his face and he’d sit down. Then Albert would say his name and Uncle Andy would snap out of it, but he wouldn’t have the same vibrancy he had before.

Maybe that look was a recurring thing the Marin men. Maybe that look was just present with the Andrew’s in the family.

It’s the look that Martin always had, and Guarnere too. They had the “I don’t take shit from anyone” looks about them, all the time. The only difference was that Andrew was willing to put up with a whole lot more than they would. He had too -- it’s how he grew up.

Then he’s back to that little town in the middle of nowhere in Illinois. He’s with Al, wishing him well before he heads off to Chicago to make a better life for himself with Lorena. Sometimes, Andrew gets that little nagging thought. That thought that he should have gone with them. But, Andrew was sixteen when Albert left. He was still, in every way, shape, and form, a child. A child who had to do what his parents said.

Maybe that’s why he joined the Army. Sure, the war had just started and the Army needed good young men to fight, but maybe he did it to escape. To get away from that little town in the middle of nowhere that seemed to always be stuck in the back of his mind. Sure, Andrew had plenty of time to figure out what he wanted to do and where he wanted to go after the war, but if he didn’t figure out soon he’d be back in that little piece of shit town that he despised.

His parents were in that town, maybe that’s why he hated it. The constant nagging, beratement and just all-out mental torture of living with them ate Andrew from the inside out. They found every last punctilio and made him feel awful for it. They never paid attention to where he excelled or what made him happy -- they just always found the things that he didn’t like, and things he did enjoy they ruined for him.

He remembers the night he left very well. He packed up all of his things, took his father’s truck, and drove until the sun came up. He was just outside of Chicago and showed up at Albert’s without any warning. He felt bad about it, showing up at their doorstep unannounced, but he had to. Albert let him in with open, warm, understanding arms and he stayed with them for two weeks before signing up for the Army.

Those two weeks were the most pain-filled yet. His parents wouldn’t stop calling Albert, trying to figure out where Andrew had gone. He took everything with a picture of himself in it and threw it away in a dumpster somewhere outside of a little pub downtown, so it was like Andrew never existed to his family, except for the pictures of just him and Albert. The only thing that Andrew kept of himself was his birth certificate, but he ended up getting a new one anyway.

And then, like that, Andrew was gone. First at Fort Benning, then straight to Toccoa, no questions asked. It was almost two months since Andrew had left, and the letter he sent them was the last contact he had planned to have with them. The only contact he had planned to have with them, at least.

Now, staring at his reflection, he had realized he was far different than that boy who wished his brother off some four years ago.

Andrew wondered about the stories of the other men, wondering if they, too, had gone through the same troubles, but then, Andrew realized, they couldn’t have. These men, despite the Army branding them almost entirely the same to the public, were far more different than anyone could have realized.

Andrew took off his helmet, seeing his hair in the mirror. The side of his head was stained a darker color from the blood that had dried in it, but his usually brown hair had lightened to a dirty blonde when he was at Toccoa. Finally, he found it in himself to smile. He had become a man, now, he had realized, and he was happy with that. It’s everything he had ever wanted.

Blithe was a man who was a mystery to Andrew Marin. He had this lost look about him like he didn’t know what he was doing in Normandy, and to be fair, that’s how all of the men felt, but they didn’t express it quite the Blithe did. Andrew would sometimes steal glances from Blithe, trying to figure out what was going on with that man, but he couldn’t figure out a thing.

Andrew and Luz sat together, Luz pulling out his Lucky Strikes. “Zigarette?”

“Danke,” Andrew says, taking one. He holds it over his lighter before lighting Luz’s. They knew it was fucked up, joking like this, but it was a damn war. Everything was fucked up.

“Are we both switching from French to German?” Luz asks, before putting on his shotty French accent. “Because I don’t think I can lose this battle easily, mon cher.”

Andrew chuckles. “As long as we’re in Nazi France, I’d rather hear you try to pronounce German than hear that stupid accent.”

“You said it wasn’t that bad!”

“I said it needed work, and it clearly does,” Andrew tells him. He can’t think of anything to say, so he goes back to the zigarette. “You think Speirs did it?”

Luz shrugged. “I dunno. I mean, they’re POWs. He’s not supposed to kill them.”

“Not answering the question, my dear Luz,” Andrew says, taking a drag. “Do you think he did it?”

“Well, I know Malarkey didn’t,” Luz says, and Andrew chuckles. “Did you see the way he was talking to that one kraut? It was insane. Like they had known each other for years.”

Andrew nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think he did it?”

Andrew shrugged. “I mean, probably. The guard wouldn’t have done it, and they wouldn’t have all been able to kill themselves, and Malarkey sure as hell didn’t,” he replies. “More likely than not, it was Speirs.”

Andrew thought for a moment. “Maybe it was Toye. I saw him punch one of the Germans in the face, brass knuckles. Knocked the guy right out.”

Luz shook his head. “No, Toye was with me and Guarnere when it happened, it couldn’t have been him.”

“Maybe Compton?”

Luz laughed. “Are you kidding me?”

“You’ve got to explore every possibility, Luz.”

“Well, then, what about you?” Luz asks. “What were you doing at the time of the crime, Mr. Marin?” Luz asks in a deep, news-reporter-esque voice.

You were kissing Liebgott, you idiot. “I was waiting for a cup of coffee from you.” You were kissing the hell out of Liebgott while Luz was doing something nice for you. How much of a bastard can you be?

“Do you have anyone that can corroborate your alibi?”

Andrew chuckled, taking another drag from his cigarette. Luz had his hand out like he was holding a microphone.

“You’re an idiot, George Luz,” Andrew tells him, and Luz takes his hand away.

“Oh, is that right?” Luz asks, moving closer to Andrew. “I’m an idiot?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, would an idiot do this?” Luz asks before pulling Andrew in for a kiss. Despite the cigarettes, Andrew can’t taste them. He just tastes Luz — the lovable, lovable man that is George Luz.

Andrew pulls away, smiling at him. “Yeah, if he wants Strayor to beat the shit out of him.” Luz puts on a fake pout, making Andrew laugh. “C’mon, you know I’m joking.”

“I know that you’re right, that’s the problem.”

Andrew sighs, trying to think of something else to talk about. He pulls out the mirror from his pocket again, focusing it on his ear. “You think I can get a Purple Heart for this?”

Luz moves his head back and tilts it to the side. He reaches out, moving Andrew’s head slightly, examining the ear. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Andrew says, turning to him. “What do you mean, ‘maybe’?”

“I don’t know how Purple Hearts work!” Luz tells him. “You get ‘em for being wounded in combat, I know that, but I don’t know the parameters!”

“A whole chunk of my ear is missing, Luz!”

“I can see that, Andrew!”

Andrew shoves the mirror piece back into his pocket. “I got off better than Popeye, at least.”

“Yeah, you did,” Luz laughed. “Imagine getting shot in the ass, of all places.”

“Imagine having to see it.”

Luz laughed even harder. “I can’t tell if that’s better or worse.”

“Hell if I know, I’ve only seen it,” Andrew takes the last drag from his cigarette before dropping it and stamping it out. “But I sure as hell know he’s getting that Purple Heart.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get yours,” Luz tells him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. “It’s the Army, we all get Purple Hearts, or we all die trying.”

Andrew laughed for a moment but then he stopped, realizing what Luz was implying. “Don’t say that! You better not get shot, or I swear to god I’ll kill you.”

“You’ll kill me for not dying?”

“Yes!”

“How does that make any sense?”

“What do you want me to say?” Andrew asks. “I’ll kill you for dying? How can I kill you if you’re already dead?”

“It’s not that part that doesn’t make any sense, Andrew, it’s the part about you killing me because I survived.”

“That’s not why I would kill you, Luz,” Andrew clarifies. “I’d kill you because you were dumb enough to get shot in the first place.”

Luz looks at Andrew with a humorous look on his face. “Because I was dumb enough to get shot?”

“Yes.”

“Because I was dumb enough to get shot?”

“Yes!”

“Andrew, you are literally missing a part of your ear because you got shot.”

“We’re not talking about my faults, Luz, we’re talking about you being an idiot.”

“So we’re back to this again?”

Andrew chuckles. “Yes, my dearest Luz, we are.”

“You’re impossible, Andrew.”

“I know.”

Andrew couldn’t tell if the dirt on his face was really there or if it was just shown to him in the mirror. He wondered how he managed to get both Luz and Liebgott to like him with all the dirt on his face. Neither of them had mentioned it, probably because everyone had some. It was good camouflage, but he was almost too pale to make it convincing.

Then again, there were a lot of things about himself that made him wonder how he was convincing at all.

He felt a weight on his chest -- guilt. He was lying, and it wasn’t only to Liebgott and Luz. It was to the entire American military. He was lying about who he was. Well, not really, but he was lying about the reality of who he was, even to himself.

Filthy liar, Andrew thought as he stared at himself in the little mirror. Little filthy liar. He wasn’t just dirty because of the mud and black paint on his face, the dirt spread from the outside in, soaking into his skin and refusing to let him go.

He had hardly noticed the tears when one fell, hitting the small piece of glass in his hand, but now that he knew they existed he wanted to get rid of them. He couldn’t show that he was crying. He simply couldn’t. He wasn’t alone in the forest of Normandy with Luz anymore. Anyone could see him. He could expose himself simply because his own damn reflection made him cry.

He wiped up the tears as fast as he could, standing up and putting the little mirror into his pocket. He opened up his canteen, pouring a little bit of water into his hand and splashing it on his face. He hoped to cover up the puffiness of his eyes, but if need be he could hopefully blame it on being tired and a lack of sleep.

“Easy Company, on the road!” Someone cried out, followed by an audible groan from most of the men. Andrew slips his helmet back on and slings his M-1 back around.

“Easy’s moving out!” Cries out Welsh as Andrew walks back up towards Luz.

“Heard you the first time,” Andrew mutters and Luz chuckles.

“No talking, no smoking and no playing grab-fanny with the man in front of you, Luz,” Welsh announces as he passes the two of them.

“More like beside me,” Luz whispers over to Andrew, who promptly smacks him on the shoulder, mouthing ‘not now’ to him. Luz still has that stupid grin on his face before going to do what he does best.

“Remember boys — give me three days and three nights of hard fighting, and you will be relieved,” he announces in his loud General Taylor voice. Andrew chuckles which makes Luz even happier. If there’s anything to make Andrew feel better, it’s Luz’s impressions. It’s obvious Luz can tell something’s up, but he doesn’t say anything about it. “Another thing to remember, boys: flies spread disease; so keep yours closed."

Someone says, “Shut up, Luz,” but it’s not Andrew. Andrew couldn’t be happier with the impression.

“Are you okay?” Luz asks quietly, and for the first time, Andrew doesn’t know how to respond. He can’t. He just wants to blurt out everything on his mind, vomit out his guilt but he can’t. As much as he wants to, he can’t. If he did, he wouldn’t have to rely on Luz’s General Taylor impression — Taylor would be there, chewing him out and sending him back home to the hell of his parents. He couldn’t do that.

“It’s nothing too bad,” Andrew tells him. “I think I rolled over on my ear last night, hurts like a bitch.”

Luz nods, and Andrew sees for the first time a look that seems to show that Luz doesn’t quite believe him. It’s a quick look, but it fills Andrew’s stomach with guilt and makes him want to throw up even more.

“Are you sure?” Luz asks him. Of course not. I’ve been lying to you for years, Luz.

Andrew sighs. “We’re not supposed to be talking, are we?”

Luz pouts a little bit. “You promise to tell me what’s wrong when we can talk again?”

Andrew nods. As much as I can.

tag list: @alienoresimagines @fromcrossroadstoking

#we happy few #andrew marin #joseph liebgott x oc #joseph liebgott #george luz x oc #george luz #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfiction

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skywalkersapprentice · 4 years

Text

mdzs novel review

Now that we’re in quarantine and I have an infinite amount of time on my hands, why not read a novel that’s 500k, right?

(Spoilers ahead.)

I totally fucked up my sleeping schedule by staying up for three nights in a row and sleeping four hours in the afternoon while reading it. worth it, though. Despite a few flaws that tripped me up close to the end, Mo Dao Zu Shi (The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation) was a gorgeous story. Kudos to the translators for giving it to us in English.

I’ll start off by saying that this story is not for the faint of heart. The main character has very grey morals. There is self-cannibalism, gore, period-typical homophobia, corpses come to life, mentions of rape, incest, sexual content, straight up dubcon and disturbing themes all the way through. If I’d seen this tagged as such on Ao3, I definitely would have left it alone. Despite all this, there’s also some truly wonderful characters, a plot unlike anything I’ve ever read before, subtle pining, fantastic worldbuilding, magical music, found families, and!! canonly lgbt characters that get to experience all of this things in the one hundred goddamn chapters it takes for them to get together.

The Good:

Wei Wuxian. One of the most interesting characters I’ve ever encountered. How can one be so good, so happy, so giving, yet so incredibly fucking annoying? He’s so clever, but also a moron. He’s selfless, but only in regards to things and people he cares about. He has an absolutely terrible memory (god me too) and knows how to get under everyone’s skin and has killed literal thousands of people and also. He is my son. If I knew him in real life I think he wouldn’t have survived long enough to become the Yiling Patriarch but in fiction he is wonderful.

The plot: Look. This novel is longer than the first four Harry Potter books combined. You can almost think of it as two books- one set in the past, one set sixteen years later. But although it’s the longest book I’ve ever read, it never really felt boring. It was definitely confusing at times (I’ve never had to take notes on a novel before to keep everything straight in my head) but I wasn’t bored. Things just keep happening- Wei Wuxian is back from the dead!! Now there’s a creepy hand!! Now there’s a statue that can move!! Now we’re in the past!! Now we’re back in the present and there’s a castle that eats people!! Now we’re in a ghost city and there’s some freaky stuff going down!! Time for the saddest flashback of all time, and now we’re starting to put the puzzle of this dismembered person together!! All of this is interspersed with worldbuilding and character dynamics and creating a full picture of the past and- whew. It was so hard to tear myself away to sleep or eat because I just wanted to know- what’s going to happen next?

The love story: Hello, slowest of burns in the entire fucking world. I live for the enemies-to-friends-to-enemies-to-friends-to-what-are-we-to-lovers love story that this book gave me. Lan Wangji, you poor emotionally repressed disaster gay. Wei Wuxian, you blind oblivious moronic disaster bi. Somehow, they’re perfect for each other. I was really, really hesitant to read this book because I know it has roots in that specific straight-girl-writes-gay-men type of culture that is often terrible and fetishistic. There were definitely things that I disagreed with that that I’ll talk about later, but largely, stereotypes were avoided and I have to give the author credit for this relationship that managed to be so many things. I relate heavily to the type of person Lan Wangji is, and I adored watching him fall for Wei Wuxian, through Wei Wuxian’s eyes, without either of them really even realizing it. They’re the definition of what I like to call a “Red and Blue couple”- the opposites, the fire and ice, the calm and the wild, the dark and the light, the red and the blue, who complement one another so well despite being so different. They balanced each other out wonderfully. Don’t talk to me about the WangXian song or the fact that they have a child or I will start crying.

Lan Wangji: Though I love Wei Wuxian, annoying traits and all, Lan Wangji is who I heavily resonated with. He kind of reminds me of Else from Frozen?? Anyone else?? Like, his whole thing is basically “conceal don’t feel”, except what he’s concealing is the fact that he feels things so deeply. He just wants to help people, to be essentially perfect at what he does (scooby doo villian voice: and he would have gotten away with it too if it weren’t for wei wuxian) His character development from the past to present was lovely. I silently cheered for him whenever he broke the rules, or let the strict facade down for a bit.

The side characters: Literally how are there so many characters in this book who are so fleshed out that they feel like real people? Xiao XingChen, Lan SiZhui, Wen Ning, Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng and Jiang LanYi all especially stood out to me, but even beyond them, everyone had a fully explained reason and motivation for like, everything they did. Even if I hated the villains, they weren’t needlessly evil. We love a grey story.

But there were some things I didn’t like.

The Bad

The R rated stuff: Well. This is probably the weirdest critique I’ve ever had to make about a book, and maybe some of it was partly due to translation, but... the sex was out of character. I thought the general dynamic made no sense for the two of them as people and it just.... wasn’t super well written? Thankfully I was warned beforehand that the Incense Burner chapters contained content I wasn’t prepared to read, but yikes, I felt like I was reading about two different characters the second clothes started coming off. I haven’t finished the bonus chapters for this reason. The second I read the word “rape”, I had to stop. Consent is a pretty hard line for me, and I can’t do a dubcon kink. Obviously the author can do whatever the hell she wants with her characters, but I felt like she threw away their personalities for the sake of trying to write something hot (which- it wasn’t.) This is why straight people have no rights and also why I will be pretending those scenes don’t exist.

The Hatred Chapters: I do feel like all of the tension and action was sort of- let down at what was supposed to be the climactic showdown in the temple. It dragged on for so many chapters that I didn’t feel on the edge of my seat waiting to see what would happen next.That could also be due to translation. I’m not sure. Maybe I need to read the Hatred chapters again. But I did feel sort of let down in the final 20 chapters of this novel. It wasn’t enough to seriously impact how much I love the general concept, but it was disappointing.

Semi related but after 100 chapter build up, that confession could have been better. Again- maybe a translation thing.

The Nie MingJue backstory flashback: just- honestly wasn’t interesting to me. It was the only part of the novel that I really had to slog through.

Lastly - this isn’t the novel’s fault, and I am certainly grateful to the translators for all of their work translating this gigantic novel, but there were some consistent grammatical issues surrounding the dialogue tags that bugged me. I’m not sure how it is in Chinese, but in English, writing “Wei WuXian, “Nothing.”” just- isn’t correct. At the very least, you need a verb like “said”. I usually read fast enough that my brain tends to insert the word even if it’s not there, but when reading slowly, this did frequently jar me out of the story. I’d be willing to edit the entire novel just to fix these errors. But it says a lot about how good this novel is that I continued reading despite errors like this because something like that in a fic would have me closing the tab immediately.

Alright, that’s all.

Overall:

There are so many small things, little moments and lines that I loved about this story, it would take me days to list them all. The dialogue patterns from character to character were distinct. Things like the forehead ribbon were endlessly entertaining. Side plots like the A-Qing one had me in tears and I was laughing a few chapters late from drunk LWJ. The novel was just fun to read. There were errors, yes, there were disappointments, sure. But it made me feel so much. I’ve been through the entire range of human emotion while reading it, and it’s so rare to find a book that just yanks you into the universe like this one did to me. I really needed an escape this week, and this was absolutely a welcome one. If I go read it again, I’m sure I’ll find a hundred more things I like about it. Heed the warnings I’ve given, if you read it, but I absolutely adored most of this book and I’ll be thinking about it for a long time.

9/10.

#mdzs #mdzs novel #Right okay time to finish the donghua

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profoundnet · 5 years

Text

Profound Member Post - August 2019

Header by @cryptomoon and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis (and more!) on our Discord server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in their entirety during that month.

MEMBER CONTRIBUTIONS FOR AUGUST 2019!

Masterpost below the cut.

goldenraeofsun - @goldenraeofsun - goldenraeofsun

Don’t Look Back (E, 36k)

While Mary was alive, she would tell Dean that soulmates were chosen by angels. When the right time came, he would hear his soulmate’s voice in his head, and he would know, wherever they were, they were singing just for him.

But Dean never heard a damn thing. Not at 12, when most people heard their first soul song. Not at 15, when Sammy heard his. Not at 17, when only two-percent of the population heard their first.

And definitely not at 28, when Sam leaves to be with the love of his life, and Castiel, deaf professor of rock music history at KU, moves in.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Deaf Cas, Professor Cas, Mutual Pining, They Were Roommates, Dean has self worth issues, Slow Burn

nickelkeep - @nickelkeep - nickelkeep

Some Pacific Wind (E, 11k)

When a storm comes through and tears away the roof of Dean's beloved night club, Nereid, he believes all is lost. But can the anonymous donations and the attractive new guy, Castiel repair all the things that have been broken?

Tags: AU - Modern Setting, Strangers to Lovers, Bartender!Dean, Businessman!Cas, Dom/Sub Play, Body Worship, Sub drop, Angst/Hurt and Comfort with a Happy Ending

Edge of Paradise (E, 3k)

Cas started to fold the panties when a thought crossed his mind. Dean always put the panties on himself, but had he ever wanted to see Cas put them on? Would that be something that turned on Dean? For a moment, Cas unfolded Dean's panties and held them out in front of himself. He looked at them, imagined the feel of the fabric wrapped around his skin instead of Dean's.

Tags: Canon Compliant, Established Destiel, Panty Kink, Dom/Sub Play, Porn w/ a little Plot

Faithfully (E, 7k)

"I have an idea!" Charlie giggled as she stood up. She stumbled a little, but Dorothy shot her hand up and helped steady her. "I saw a new game in the closet. It's a game we all know, but they put it on cards."

Dean shot a look at Cas who shrugged in return.

Charlie opened the closet. "I know I saw it. Oooh! Here!" She picked up the game and held it over her head triumphantly. "Never Have I Ever!"

"No, no, no, no." Dean stood up and intercepted Charlie. "Red, no one wants to know everything about everyone."

"You're a spoilsport, Winchester." Charlie pouted. A few other people agreed with her, causing Dean to roll his eyes.

"Do you all seriously think any of you are sober enough to play this?" He looked around and saw a mixture of heads nodding yes and heads shaking no.

Tags: AU - Modern Setting, They Were Roommates!, Idiots to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Platonic Cuddles, Ensemble Cast, Alcohol Use, Minor Drug Mention

Nothing You Confess (E, 5k)

Slowly, Cas opened his eyes and looked at Dean. "Dammit, Cas. I told you to not go dying me on again. Don't scare me like that." Dean hugged Cas tightly before helping him sit up. "Are you ok?"

Cas nodded and attempted to speak. When no sound came out, he squinted and looked at Dean. He pointed at his lips and then his ears while trying to speak.

"Cas, are you saying something?" Dean leaned in close, getting his ear closer to Cas' mouth. "There's nothing come out." Surprise and fear flashed across Dean's face. "Cas, did that spell do something to your voice?"

Cas' lips moved some more without sound before he resigned himself to the fact that he couldn't speak. He nodded at Dean.

Tags: Canon Compliant, Witches and Curses, Cursed Castiel, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Sammy Ships It, Cas/Dean First Kiss

Wargurl83 - Wargurl83

Call My Name (And Save Me From The Dark) (M, 31k)

Wardens and Vargar have long existed in sync with each other. Each Pack has an Alpha and a Warden that are bound together that makes the other stronger. The Novak pack was the first Vargar pack in Kansas, and remains the largest in the state- but that may not hold true for much longer. The Pack’s Warden was ripped away from them by murder, and her son stolen in the night before he could complete the ritual to formally become the Pack’s Warden. Now, the Novak Pack is being ground down by Demons and a rival Pack, one who’s Warden uses dark magic. Now, Castiel, the Alpha’s son, strikes out on a desperate search for his Warden- Dean Winchester. Can he find the man he’s loved since childhood? And even if he can, will it be enough?

Tags: Graphic depictions of violence, magic users, creature Cas, Destiel harlequin challenge

rauko-is-a-free-elf - @rauko-is-a-free-elf - FeaRauko

The God of Laundry and Hipbones (T, 1.8k)

This is a drabble for the prompt: Destiel - I’m sorry you caught me moving your clothes out of the dryer but in my defense I’ve been waiting for one to open up for about an hour now

Or...

That one where Dean catches Cas moving his laundry, gawks at him like an idiot until he leaves, and then spends the next several months not being able to find him

Tags: College!au, fic with art, dorm life, Dean's pink panties

MaggieMaybe160 - @maggiemaybe160 - MaggieMaybe160

Forget Me Not (T, 2k)

The angels aren't a fan of Dean and Cas having a relationship. They find a way to sabotage the relationship.

Tags: Major Character Death, torture.

andimeantittosting - @andimeantittosting - andimeantittosting

The Winchester Affair (E, 34k)

Castiel Shurley has emerged from self-imposed exile to help see his sister safely wed. But when Hael discovers a priceless diamond brooch at the LaCroix ball, a villain finds the opening he needs, and Castiel finds himself in a nightmare.

Blackmailed by the odious Zachariah Adler, he is given one mission: to spy upon Dean, the handsome Marquess of Winchester, or see his entire family ruined. As he’s running out of time, Castiel has to make a choice—save his family, or risk it all to protect the man he has loved in secret since childhood.

Tags: Regency AU, Friends to Lovers, Friends with Benefits, Mutual Pining, Blackmail, Harlequin Challenge

Jemariel - @jemariel - jemariel

Witness Protection (E, 5.5k)

At first, it was an inconvenience. Now, it's their lifeline.

True mates from rival Families, Dean and Castiel fight to escape with their lives.

Tags: Mafia AU, Background Dean/Abaddon, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Dean, Alpha Castiel, No mpreg, Knotting, True Mates, star-crossed lovers, Dialogue Heavy, Clothed Sex, Little bit of graphic injuries

Head Over Feet (E, 9.5k)

Castiel's brother is getting married, and Cas's ex boyfriend is in the wedding party.

Putting an ad on Craigslist for a wedding date seems like a terrible idea at the time, but one of the responses is... very intriguing...

Sparks fly, boys dance, and everybody lives happily ever after.

Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Past Castiel/Inias, Strangers to Lovers, First Kiss, Slow Dancing, Frottage, Clothed Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Fluff and Smut

insominia - @a-insominia - insominia

In The Air Tonight (E, 3.5k)

It had been sixteen days since Dean Winchester had last made headlines. Not that Castiel was counting. Not that he had given it any thought at all.

Tags: Graphic Description of Violence, Murder Husbands, AU - Serial Killers, Blood and Gore, Masturbation, Psychopaths in Love

P.Cas. I Love You (G, 2.5k)

Dean Winchester is not a man of words and declarations of love do not come easy to him. Castiel is an angel and is so assured of his place in Dean's life that he does not need such affirmations. This is what Castiel understands to be true. Until Dean goes away.

Tags: Canon-verse, Established Relationship, Fluff, Domestic fluff, Dean Winchester needs to use his words

shealynn88 - @shealynn88 - shealynn88

Another Day, Another Demon (T, 800 words)

Dean gets called in to handle a demon problem. The demon is…not what he expected. (endverse!Cas as a demon, meet-cute. Or at least a meet.)

Tags: humor, fluff, meet-cute

Make a Deal With the Bad Wolf (M, 1k)

Dean is bitten and becomes something new. If only he knew what, exactly, that something new was.

Tags: A/B/O, alpha Dean, monster Dean, canon-level violence

MalMuses - @malmuses - MalMuses

The Shadow in the Corner (E, 48k)

As a high-ranking member of the Men of Letters, Lord Dean Winchester is overqualified to be investigating strange phenomena at a seaside photography studio. But since the photographer is related to the organization’s most powerful sorcerer, Dean reluctantly boards a steam dirigible to Brighton.

Castiel Novak is haunted by a shadow that appears in some of his recent portraits. In each case, the subject died within days of the sitting. Does he have his grandfather’s gift of foresight, or has he somehow caused the deaths?

As Dean and Cas search for answers, their investigation draws them together in a most improper way—but it seems the evil presence in the studio may not be their only enemy…

Tags: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Period-Typical Homophobia, Crossdressing Castiel, Strangers to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Lovecraftian Monster, Panky kink, A Ridiculous Amount of Sexual Tension.

Down to Suck (E, 5.5k)

Castiel and his vampire boyfriend Dean have been together for a couple of months, and Castiel is very happy with their relationship. But there is a little something else he'd like to add to their dynamic...and he has a sneaky, fluffy plan to get his way.

A timestamp in the Bat Dean 'Verse.

Tags: Bat Dean, Anxious Castiel, Vampire Dean Winchester, Miggles the Cat - Freeform, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, First Time Bottoming, Love Confessions, Established Relationship, Fluff and Crack, Additional Timestamp

Usarechan - @usarechan

Sunset

Postcard for Profoundzine Vol. 1 (SFW)

Angel Baby

My submission for the Profoundzine Vol. 1 (SFW)

#member masterpost #august masterpost #profoundnet #profound monthly masterpost #destiel reclist #deancas reclist #member fic #member art

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raccoonpatriotism · 5 years

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Random, Useless Headcanons | Accepting

i like how i keep labeling this meme as “accepting” when i have…. 260 of these right here.

1: Has he driven a car before? Yes. Should he be allowed to keep driving? No.

2: You know that “I’m washing me and my clothes!” vine? That’s Jane. It’s efficient.

3: If you gave him Cat Food he’d say it’s the best thing he’d ever tasted.

4: Before going to Poland to serve his time, he hired a sex worker. Her touch would be the last non-violent physical contact he would feel for the next 9 or so years.

6: He donates a healthy sum of his paychecks to wild animal and veteran charities.

7: Jane’s ‘friendship’ with Merasmus is the longest relationship he’s ever held.

8: Jane doesn’t believe in the number 8.

9: He doesn’t have any titty mags, but he does have tasteful pin-up for the inside of his locker.

10: He’s an excellent swimmer - but will sometimes forget to hold his breath.

11: Getting Jane to imprint on you like a baby bird is really easy. Be strong, be patriotic, be funny, be determined.

12: He trusts everything he’s told from someone he views as a friend.

13: He’s been on BLU before - it was brief.., a WAR! got started and ended. A few years went by and he was balanced to RED

14: Continuation of 13, it was… very easy to get him to believe he was always on RED team.

15: He loves fighting robots - but nothing compares to the feeling of a neck snapping in his hands.

16: He taught himself how to use every weapon he came across in Poland - it took a few years before he ran into a rocket launcher…. His life was changed from that moment onward.

17: His knowledge of the US military comes from tv and stories from veteran home he was forced to work at through his older years at the orphanage. (Outdated or complete bullshit.)

18: The liveliness of America is just one of the innumerable reasons he loves the country. Even things he hates (like.. war protesters/hippies) have this determination in them that makes him proud.

19: He’ll pick ear wax out of his ear, sniff it, grimace, and happily hold the finger out to somebody near him.

20: He only wants the best for you.

21: Getting him to realize he’s actually ended civilian’s lives is a conversation that would take over an hour. His brain has the wildest, irrationally rational excuses ever. (”Officer Miss Pauling, what I am about to say will SHOCK you; I was framed” will never make me not lose my mind. ilove him)

22: His moral compass is, admittedly, terrible, but he genuinely wants the best for people in the world.

23: Helping people, serving his country, that’s his goal. That all he wants out of life. He’s a cog in the machine of war and he loves it.

24: Consequences don’t exist in Jane’s world.

25: He’s so fucking bisexual. This headcanon is not useless at all.

26: Jane snores like a chainsaw - and will then be absolutely silent for spaces of minutes.

27: He never covers his face when he sneezes.

28: He’s very touchy feely - A way to make up for what he so clearly craves.

29: But god this man wants to be touched.

30: As much as Jane holds back on admitting to weakness, he’s also just a genuinely honest guy so simple prodding usually gets him to spill.

31: Jane has never purposefully manipulated someone in his life.

32: He’s only ever seen one movie. Well, more like registered he always zones out at some point. Sometimes starting the movie in a day dream and zoning back in to catch the ending. The movie he’s fully seen was watched through 3 separate sessions.

33: War films, what he does catch, always make him cry.

34: With everyone he meets; Jane immediately thinks of two things. How to kill them. And what to say when holding their guts into their dying corpse and crying to the sky.

35: He has no idea he’s beautiful.

36: Jane doesn’t have a self-effacing bone in his body.

37: He chews with his mouth open, and speaks with his mouth full. He’ll also snap at someone else to stop talking with their mouth full, it’s disrespectful.

38: Jane had a dream where he beat Communism and thought it was true for a whole year.

39: He’s not dumb on purpose. He has nothing to gain by making people think he’s an idiot, as far as he’s concerned. He acts like himself 24/7

40: Jane invented that song Fifty Nifty United States song that’s song in elementary schools.

41: You know those kiddie leashes? You could put one of those on Jane and he wouldn’t be, like, “Okay.” Try and run off and be like “What contraption is holding me here?!?!?!”

42: The answer to life, the universe, and everything is American Apple Pie

43: i just realized im gonna get to answer a headcanon 69 and got excited. UHH jane likes the color red.

44: Jane likes the color blue.

45: Jane likes the color white.

46: Jane loves all skin colors, anybody can be American.

47: Has he retained any American history? Haha. Ha. No.

48: Jane was taken out of elementary school for bad behavior, lack of attention, and general ruckus.

49: His orphanage never tried to send him back to any schooling.

50: Jane was born July 4th, he doesn’t know that, despite claiming it.

51: He’s not an amnesiac - he’s never had a strong sense for long-term memories.

52: God, he loves bread.

53: And also he loves taking everything Engineer says literally. He’s such a wise American.

54: Jane would absolute trollface and say “Problem?”

55: He would never say a slur.

56: Jane does not use fuck as a curse ever. He’ll say it, but like, to mean, y’know.

57: He’s a follower, don’t tell him that. He’ll get offended.

58: Jane is convinced the President is the most powerful being in the world, and is also granted special powers.

59: Jane is progressive, baybee. He thinks dogs should vote!!

60: UNLESS IT HAS TO DO WITH WAR. Then he’s, like, a total bootlicker.

61: He’ll beat up racists in bars.

62: Jane really came alive during Grey Mann’s first robot attacks - for the second time he felt like he was protecting America and not some Very Important American Gravel.

63: If Jane ever got sentenced to prison, he’d just serve his time.

64: He has Lawyer Powers given to him by magic, and he is not afraid to use them.

65: Besides Scout, he has represented himself, Lt. Bites, and the state of Tennessee in court.

66: He was a bad roommate, he genuinely thought Merasmus was an even worse roommate.

67: Extreme Cold is a surefire way to trigger his PTSD. He doesn’t act all that different verbally, but he becomes entire still. Not even moving to shiver. It’s like he automatically transfers to late stage hypothermia.

68: Jane may have never played baseball, but he’s briefly been on a bowling team.

69: ayyyyy. Jane always returns the favor, if ya know what i mean.

70: I can’t tell you how much he can lift because I know nothing about fitness, but it’s a lot. And it’s impressive.

71: Jane practices unsafe workout routines! It’s a miracle lifting without a spotter hasn’t killed him yet.

72: He makes up for his genuine stupidity with Pure Luck.

73: He’ll kill, he’ll maim, but he won’t assault.

74: Jane’s favorite chocolate is Hershey’s.

75: He’s convinced Milton Hershey, founder of Hershey’s Chocolate, was a President despite him being alive in Jane’s lifetime.

76: Jane isn’t afraid of gay thoughts, never payed attention to period typical homophobia going on around him therefor never got a chance to develop it.

77: Jane would totally be the type of guy to see one of those Fireman Calendars and zone out staring at some dudes pecs and someone asks him if he’s okay and he’s like “I’m ogay.”

78: It’s a miracle, the first time Jane rocket jumped, his legs weren’t blown off. He was injured from the fall, surprised he’d gotten air at all. It was an accident and, while he’d never go to recreate it during his time in Poland, when he’d gotten hooked up to respawn and he saw all the high perches, the trick reoccured to him.

79: He loved Tavish so much

80: He was born in Tennessee, although he grew up in Wisconsin.

81: He’ll make odd little sounds - aborted sentences, thoughts lost to the depths of his brain. You can point them out and he’ll have no idea what you’re talking about.

82: He could have a possum mixed in with his raccoons and think it’s a raccoon.

83: He takes his Ranger Job very seriously. Just as serious as he does all his jobs. (So, you know. Not… very.) He is very enthusiastic at least!

84: He’s not empathetic at all, however energies at Large in a room really affect him. Chances are, if everyone’s in good favor, he’ll be really happy and relaxed - even if previously grumpy.

85: Jane can be really grumpy, that’s when his drill sergeant personality shines through - more often than not, he’s just a good natured loud patriot rolling with the punches of life.

86: He believes in the Judeo-Christian God, but also… believes the president is stronger than God? Sometimes? Depends on the situation. What is blasphemy haha?!?

87: Jane always wanted a puppy - meeting Bites, future Lieutenant, was like a dream come true to him.

88: Plus, he’d always liked raccoons - often responsible for tipping over dumpsters at his orphanage to help the little critters.

89: Jane can and will eat out of the garbage if not stopped.

90: He’s very passionate and strict about what he knows are fact (the issue is, facts can change pretty easily in jane’s head.

91: Good thing he has a helmet because Jane’s puppy-dog eyes are the sort that are clearly un-practiced and unintentional and thus made all the more soul-wrenching.

92: He’s always surprised by doorbells.

93: Jane would never smoke weed of his own volition, but under the influence, everything would make So Much Sense to him.

94: I’m talking the wildest stoner sayings, that always are so structurally sound it’s scary.

95: This man loves cashews.

96: “Mm crunchy things.. good.” - Shared thought by Jane and Lt. Bites.

97: Lt. Bites likes to curl up on Jane’s stomach when he’s sleeping. Jane often wakes up with his face covered in scratches and fur in his mouth. Much like the Soldier, the Lieutenant isn’t quite a sound sleeper.

98: Fuck, like, he loves cashews so much? The texture is amazing.

99: Jane has no illegitimate or legitimate children.

100: Jane loves his team almost as much as he loves America.

101: IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR scroll back up and read everything, LOSER otherwise… wow………you love soldier. me too……

CONTINUED HERE

#homeofthevan #patriotic answers #patriotic headcanons #100 headcanons so far.......#to be continued tomorrow.........#vanyel is absolutely ridiculous blame them and also love them

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