#This song makes more sense gay than straight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kurikive · 3 months

Text

CASUAL | danielle marsh.

— "is it casual now?"

6thmember!reader, situationship/fwb but nothing sexual, angst, fluff at the end i promise, dani swears, reader is a (closeted) lesbian, reader is horrible at reading people, written in 2nd person, they work it out on the remix

warnings : A LOT of internalized homophobia !! reader refers to herself multiple times as a predator but it's just from fear and insecurity, nothing actually predatory is happening in the story. extremely brief mentions of starvation

wc: 5.4k words

inspired by: Casual — Chappell Roan

you and danielle marsh are friends. more than co-workers, you're friends. although you don't have that much in common except for your age, it was easy to adapt to the harsh environment of the k-pop industry's training system with someone like danielle by your side.

she's always been a ray of sunshine in everyone's lives, you're not the exception. if you were in a bad mood, tired from waking up in the early morning everyday, worked to the point of exhaustion, danielle would be there rubbing your shoulders and saying something sweet like

"you're doing great, y/n! keep up!"

and then you'd smile at her, and she'd smile back, and you'd feel so much better, thanks to danielle.

you didn't have many interests in common. music taste, fashion sense, movie picks, food preferences, personality types, if anything you were almost her complete opposite. and yet, she sat in your bed every night while you scrolled on your phone, talking for hours until it the clock hits midnight and she goes back to her room.

danielle did most of the talking, and you carefully listened to everything she said. the enthusiasm in which she enunciated all her words was endearing to listen to, and it couldn't not bring a smile out of you. the girl never forgot to give you your chance to speak too, trying to get to know you better everyday.

there was one thing she could not know, however. that you're a lesbian.

if it was hard enough being gay in korea, it was ten times harder when you were about to debut in a girl group, in one of the biggest companies in the industry at the moment nonetheless.

there were times where the members would all gather and have girl talks, talking about things like movies, celebrity crushes, past boyfriends and all that stuff, and you felt left out every single time.

sometimes it's more a curse than a blessing that danielle notices everything, because when she asks, "who's your celebrity crush, y/n?", "what do you look for in a boy, y/n?", "have you ever had a boyfriend, y/n?", you never know how you're supposed to respond.

it wasn't safe. it'll never be safe.

you've known the girls for almost a year and there has never been an indication of the way they felt about the LGBTQ+ community. hanni was your safest bet, she seemed the most open minded, but then again you can never be sure.

they were all so painfully straight.

so you try your best to answer vaguely,

"i don't know.", "i'm not sure, i don't really think about that." they complain a little about your mysteriousness, but it doesn't take long for them to let it go and move on.

you don't know how long you have to keep pretending you're not sure. you are sure.

you like girls.

you don't want to keep pretending you don't. but how would they feel?.

they'd feel unsafe, uncomfortable, scared, exposed to a threat, a possibility of being prey to a predator, a little voice in your head tells you.

but you're not. you're not a predator. they know you're not a predator. you'd never do anything to hurt them, or make them uncomfortable.

so you keep pretending. but the shell is starting to crack, and a knot in your throat gets tighter everytime you hear your members ask "is he your type?".

your debut is only a couple months away. you pray to god hanni has noticed by now. she's your roommate after all.

you start playing some specific songs without your headphones in hopes she walks by or enters the room and notices. you hope she's the one that asks. but she doesn't, she never mentions the songs, ever.

so you move on to movies and shows.

when she catches you watching heartbreak high in the living room TV, she only says "oh they're aussies, right?"

when she sees you watching heartstopper on your phone while eating dinner she just says, "kit connor is soooo handsome."

she doesn't mention it when she goes into your room and you're playing but i'm a cheerleader on your laptop. but hanni has caught on.

and the next time she goes into your shared room, she closes the door behind her. you're in your bed, and you're staring at each other, both of your eyes shine with nervousness.

"can i ask you something?" she says from the door, so shakily you start fearing she's not going to take it like you wish she would.

"sure." you didn't mean for your voice to come out as quiet as it did.

it's a nerve-wracking couple of seconds watching hanni take a seat in her own bed and face you. she takes a big breath before asking, "do you- no, sorry. are you... gay?"

yes, yes, yes. i am a lesbian. i like girls. you want to scream, but the realization of reality strangles you and your throat feels so tight, and you can't say anything.

"it's not like there's anything wrong about it, i'm just... asking." she tries. you can tell she's trying. it's sweet that she's trying.

"yes." it's a struggle to get it out, and your heart starts racing, but just being able to feels like such a relief that you might start crying. but then fear washes down on you again when you can't read hanni, at all.

"i'm really sorry, hanni. i promise i'm not weird or predatory or anything, i would never try to make you uncomfortable and i'm sorry if i ever did. i promise i don't like you like that, not that you're not attractive or anything, that's not what i mean at all. i just- i would never like you like that, you're like my sister and i promise that i'm still the same y/n you met, i really hope this doesn't change anything in our-" she cuts off your rambled apology-slash-explanation with a hug.

"it doesn't. i promise." it hits you now, just now, that hanni knows. she knows.

"please don't tell the others." you're choked up, and that's the only thing you could say before the tears in your eyes caught up. i don't know how they'll take it, you want to say, but the only thing that comes out is a broken sob.

"i won't. it's okay, y/n."

you've grown closer to hanni than you'd ever thought you would. you spend your nights in your room talking and laughing and watching funny videos you send each other.

it's been a few months since you've debuted and you couldn't be happier. you had someone to rely on, someone who knows all your secrets and can trust her with them, and vice versa.

your career has skyrocketed and your popularity is through the roof, and although there are always negative consequences that come with that fame, it's been mostly great on your end.

danielle doesn't really hang out in your room to talk anymore. if you're honest, you kind of miss it, but she surely has her reasons, and you don't think too much about it.

you're currently in one of the vocal practice rooms at HYBE, setting up your phone to do a phoning live. you'd just finish your vocal practice and you had asked for permission beforehand.

after a few minutes of talking with your fans, recommending movies and talking about food, you hear a knock on your door. quite strange.

"yeah? who is it?" you yell loud enough to no cause any ruckus. the door slightly opens and a face peeks inside, "it's me!" danielle's signature smile shining brightly at you, "i saw you were live and wanted to come hang out."

you didn't even need to tell her anything before she was coming right inside the room to grab a chair and sit beside you. "well, come hang out then!" you face your screen to see danielle struggling to bring the chair closer to you, and you chuckle a bit. "dani's here, guys!"

danielle has always been very touchy; with everyone, that is. today was not the exception, resting her head on your shoulder, holding your hand and locking your fingers together, nuzzling her face in your neck, it's all things you're already used to.

it's never been more than just friendly showcases of affection, to you, at least. and you've also never been irritated by it, but there's some guilt you try to suppress.

you don't want to push her away, you're not uncomfortable with her actions, what is uncomfortable is her potentially finding out your sexuality and thinking you let her shower you with affection for your own amusement. you fear it. but you don't want to think about that right now.

you think about it again, however, when you go back home and open social media only to see videos and threads with thousands of likes and views compiling every sweet moment of affection that happened just mere hours ago.

there's a pang in your chest when you see the tens of delusional comments talking of how much they'd like to see you and your friend as a couple. it feels like you're being strangled, and you suddenly feel unwell, so you close the app and turn off your phone.

"i should watch a movie."

you fully believe your debut was your prime. everyday gets harder, scandal after scandal, comeback after comeback, day after day. you work really hard, your members know, your fans know. but it never looks like it's going to get easier.

you win awards, win some more, get another important deal, shoot another session, write another song, the cycle repeats although not in the same order. like a fucked up loop. you're so fucking tired.

you wonder how hyein is holding up. you care a lot for her, like your little sister. she seems okay, eating a bowl of yogurt and fruits in the living room with haerin and hanni. are you the only one having a hard time?

you need to relieve your stress, and there's really no other option other than going to the gym to work out. so you go back to your room to lazily change into your practice clothes and grab your backpack, "i'm going to the gym." you try your best to sound at least a little enthusiastic as you walk behind the living room couch.

"when are you coming back?" you hear danielle ask from the kitchen, a twinge of concern in her voice. "it might start raining soon."

"i won't take long. if i see it starts to get cloudy i'll get going." you try to put her worries at ease. your gym doesn't have windows, though.

you shouldn't have gone. you're not even supposed to go anyway. it's raining hard, and it might start storming soon. but your manager can't know you're here. one of the many downsides of being in a group with four minors and two barely-adults, you can't call any of them to pick you up. so fuck it, you're taking the public transportation.

kind of extremely risky considering you are literally in newjeans, but okay. what else is there to do? what you failed to consider is the only bus stop being about five blocks away. and the bus doesn't drop you off even remotely close to the dorms. so you're gonna be running in the rain and, fuck it again, you do just that.

the first five blocks to the bus stop weren't that bad, you didn't get soaked like you imagined, blocking most raindrops with your backpack over your head. you really should've just brought an umbrella, though.

good thing you brought a mask, at least. nobody seemed to recognize you on the bus. you take a seat as close as possible to the exit and take out your phone to hurriedly text the group chat.

i got a bit caught up, im omw

domt worry 2 much

ill b there soon :))

minji responds with a thumbs up, hanni leaves an "idiot" that gets a like reaction by haerin. you see danielle write and then stop writing about 3 times, but she ends up not sending anything at all, so you just turn off your phone and look outside for your stop.

it only takes a couple minutes of waiting to see the silhouette of your dorm building. you get off your seat and wait for the bus to halt at the next stop to get off. it's raining a bit harder, but there's nothing you can do except wing it.

and when you get off, you immediately put your backpack on top of your head and start running as fast as you could towards your dorm. you get some looks, but no one can possibly be able to recognize you, not at the speed you're going.

after a few minutes, your legs start getting tired not only from running, but all the exercise you did hours earlier. another thing you failed to consider in this mediocre, careless plan.

but you're almost there. and you're almost not soaked.

by the time you reach your building the only thing about you that isn't wet is your scalp. you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, it's probably one of your members, but you're almost there, you can't pick up.

you enter the gates of the apartment, and you're probably going to make a mess on the floor on the elevator, but your legs can't take it anymore, and you thank any god that hears your prayers when the elevator doors open and it's empty. you can't take more embarrassment right now.

the doors open once again and you try not to make much noise as you run towards your dorm. someone inside must've heard you fumbling with your keys because as soon as you find the right one the door is already open, a concerned danielle with a just as worried minji behind her. you smile at the sight of them. "hello!"

"get your ass inside!" you hear hanni shout from the couch.

you're drying your hair in your room after taking a shower and explaining the situation to your group members. just as you're about to turn on your phone to see what time it is you hear a knock on your door, "can i come in?" it's danielle.

"yup. come on in!" you answer a lot more energized than a couple hours before. danielle's not wearing her usual bright smile, but rather a more worried expression. "y/n, can we talk?"

you're confused. you've never heard or seen her like this before. she's obviously been worried before, she cares about you just as much as the others, but this time it's different. "yeah, what's up?" you try your best to respond calmly and tap a stop in the bed beside yourself, which danielle gladly takes.

"are you okay?" she asks as she settles down at your side. what?

"what do you mean?" you don't notice it but you start fidgeting with your own fingers. danielle notices.

"it's just," she tries looking somewhere else, but she can't help the need of looking into your eyes all the time, looking for some sort of sign, some crack, "i can tell you're stressed. you're tired and... if you need to talk i just want you to know that i'm here." her eyes are dripping honey and her hand is so warm when she grabs yours.

you show her a sluggish smile, "thanks, dani. i appreciate that." when you look back, her face is already finding it's way to the crook of your neck. "i'm just a little tired of everything. it really feels like i'm doing the same things all over again. i know we've achieved a lot as a group but i feel like i have nothing going on for myself." you sigh, danielle says nothing, urging you to continue.

"all the songs i pitch get turned down, my other drafts feel too personal to release as a group song. every song i write with the group in mind feels, i don't know, empty?"

your eyes unfocus as a wave of emptiness washes over you and the only thing you feel is a water droplet from your bangs fall and travel down your temples. and also the warmth shared by danielle's hand in yours.

"i just feel like nothing's going on in my life." you feel danielle's head leave your shoulder and you turn to look at each other at the same time, "i think i know how you feel." she says with the sweetest eyes ever.

"thanks for listening, dani." you smile at her, but it feels so strange when she doesn't smile back. she just stares, right through you. her eyes are so pretty; you've always known but this is the first time you've looked at them directly for so long (there's really nothing else for you to look at when she's so close to your face).

oh, yeah. in a sudden moment you were inches apart. you don't remember moving so it must've been danielle.

you don't really understand what's going on. maybe this is an eye contact battle and you're not supposed to blink. and you think for a moment you had it easy because suddenly danielle's pretty eyes are nowhere to be found and you're staring at her eyelids and long eyelashes instead.

before your brain even thinks of giving you the chance to mutter "i win!" in a silly manner, you feel your own lips getting shut. covered, enveloped by another set of softness.

oh. this is not what you expected at all.

what are you even supposed to do right now? well, pull away, obviously. but that could could give danielle the impression that you hate everything about this and, really, that's not true at all. it's good. well, not good, but- danielle is not horrible at kissing.

what even is happening, anyway? i mean, you're kissing. but what else? nothing feels like it's moving; it feels like time's stopped. there also hasn't been anything that has lead up to this happening.

so you're just left there, paralyzed, in shock, waiting until danielle pulls away. just waiting until she's done with you. until she's satisfied.

and it's until danielle notices that you're not moving that she realizes what she's done. she pulls away, shaken and distraught.

"y/n, i am so sorry. i don't know what came over me, i am so so so sorry. i really didn't mean to do that. please forgive me, y/n, i am really so sorry." at this point, danielle's voice starts to break. "i don't know why i did that, it's just, i don't know, you just looked good a-and we were just close and-"

"it's okay, dani. i know."

"no, y/n, i really am sorry. i-"

"dani, i swear it's fine." you grab her shoulder to reassure her, but is anything really fine right now? "i..." you don't really know what to say next. "i don't, like, hate you or anything. i understand things like that happen. i'm not mad at you."

"really?" you've never seen her tear up so fast. you definitely didn't expect her to tear up at this. but you know the feeling of guilt so well you can't help but feel sympathy for her. "are you sure? i promise it won't happen again."

"i'm sure, dani. you could never do anything to make me hate you."

you smile at her, she sniffles. it's the last thing you hear before you hear the sound of her wristwatch's seconds ticking. you don't really know what's going through her head. you count about 34 ticks.

"did you hate it?" her voice isn't weak, but it is lower than you normally expect it to be.

you're stunned, but the way she looks at you so earnestly, with a hint of nervousness in her eyes forces you to answer within seconds, "n-no! dani, i didn't... hate it. it was just unexpected. i didn't really process it at first." it's the truth, but it feels so gut-wrenching to say.

another 20 ticks of quiet.

"can i do it again?"

hello? hello? what is going on? hello?

"i-i mean, if you want to." it sounds more like a question than a proper answer. and danielle takes it anyway.

you don't have any romantic feelings for danielle, that's for sure. she's said she doesn't have any feelings for you either. that's established. and yet when hanni is too caught up watching movies in the living room with minji and hyein, danielle is always there, sitting in your bed.

sometime's it's just little pecks while you cuddle and watch something she doesn't care much about. sometime's she's on the verge of kissing the living shit out of you.

it's never more than that. none of you let it be more than that. it's more than okay.

it's comfortable. it's casual.

and yet, every time it happens, you feel guilt eat at your stomach.

because danielle doesn't know. and she can't know.

it's not like this was your idea in the first place, it was danielle's. but the fact that you let her do it anyway could be predatory enough for her to feel unsafe if she ever did find out. even if she's the one who caused this all.

and never once do you think about yourself while it happens. it's not a moment for you, it's a moment for danielle to take. and you're okay with that. as long as she's okay with it.

you're okay with many things just because danielle is okay with them.

if danielle wants to watch a romcom, you watch a romcom. if danielle wants to eat plain yogurt, you eat plain yogurt. if danielle wants to kiss you, you let her kiss you.

it's not that big of a deal if there are no feelings involved. it's just a matter of believing that that's actually true.

you let her do whatever she wants because you're scared to do the taking. because taking feels like stealing, and doing feels like attacking. and you're so scared to hurt danielle that you forget you can also hurt yourself.

but if it's so casual, why doesn't she let go of your hand? why does she call you pretty everyday? why does she look at you with those pretty eyes like you're her whole world?

was the "i love you" she said yesterday something she meant as platonic love? is there such a thing as casual love?

was it just the sound of the raindrops on your window that made you hallucinate the sound of a love confession?

you don't eat anything for the rest of the day.

minji and hyein are visiting their parents. hanni and haerin are out of the country. and you're in the dorm kitchen trying to figure out how blurred the lines are while you mix the milk into your tea.

you feel your heart drop when you hear the sound of footsteps of the line-blurrer herself over the sounds of light rain. it hasn't stopped since the day before.

you don't want to feel anything right now, you don't want to hear anything right now.

she wraps her arms around your waist and says, "good morning." with that big bright smile on her face. at one point it started hurting when she did, but you don't remember when.

she smells like the candles you burnt in your room two days after hanni left. you were trying to get rid of danielle's scent from your room, but you couldn't tell her that, so you just said you were trying something new.

danielle notices you say nothing back, and your eyes are nowhere in particular. "watchu thinkin' about?" her always cheery tone gets you out of your trance, and she notices when you stop stirring the spoon in your cup. you're still silent for a bit, but she lets you take your time.

"i don't think we should do this anymore, danielle."

you tense up when her arms leave your waist, but it feels oddly freeing. you don't turn back to face her.

"what do you mean?"

"are we still casual?"

there's disbelief in danielle's voice when she speaks, "what are you talking about? of course we are!" but she sounds dishonest, in a way.

"really?" that's when you turn around, her eyes are wide and her cheeks are quite flushed but nothing about her seems guilty at all, "because saying "i love you" doesn't seem quite casual to me."

she scoffs, "y/n, i tell all my friends i love them. it's a normal thing!"

"i'd agree with you if we weren't kissing on the low. it's a little too much on top of that."

"i don't know what you think casual means but-"

"what i mean is we should stop before the lines start to blur, that's if they haven't already." you don't want to yell at her. you hope she understands before you have to raise your voice. "we are public figures, famous figures. if this goes wrong we can't go back and that could potentially ruin everything, not only for us but for our group."

"well, it can't go wrong if there's no feelings involved, can it?" danielle is usually playfully sassy, but she's never responded to you like this before.

"we're human, danielle. feelings can't be stopped." you're not too good at reading people, but you can see something has clicked in danielle's brain.

"what i'm getting is that you developed feelings for me while we were casual, is that right?" she seems so sure and confident that it annoys you. it frustrates you. and you want to cry.

"no, that's not what i said. but i am scared of it happening, and i want this to stop before it has the chance to."

"well, you should've thought of that before you said yes." you never really did.

"why are you upset, anyways?"

"b-because!" her voice gets louder, "i just wanted this to be casual, and now your telling me you're scared of catching feelings, it's just weird. that's all."

you sigh, "listen, i don't want this to end on a bad note. i just-"

"well, i don't want this to end at all!"

it takes you a minute to believe what you're hearing.

"a-are you hearing yourself?" it's shocking, it really is, "this is crazy, why are you being so selfish right now?"

"because it feels good! okay?!" danielle has completely let go of the loose strings of morality she was holding on to, "it fucking feels good, a-and you make me feel good. i like it when we kiss, and i like it when we cuddle and, and, i just like it, okay?!" that's the first time you've heard danielle curse in your entire life.

"okay, well, i'm glad you did. but i don't. i don't feel good at all." it's so scary and risky because you're two seconds away from telling her the truth, and this could potentially damage both your careers irreversibly, but you can't think of any lie or excuse that is true enough to keep hiding it.

"i drown in guilt every time we kiss and i feel like i'm choking when you look at me these days."

you've never seen her look so confused, like she really doesn't understand you. because she never had to.

"why?"

"i am a lesbian, danielle." you can't shatter, not now. "and it kills me because you'll never understand how hard it is to hide like this for so long. and yes, we hide this casual thing from our members, but after this is over you don't have to hide anything at all and i still have to hide everything."

she says nothing. her eyes soften, but you can't read them. not like you ever could.

"i didn't catch feelings for you, but i could, and you're not helping out. and you don't have to worry about that. you don't have to worry about your members being disgusted at you for something you can't change. you don't have to pretend. you don't have to be scared that you're making someone uncomfortable by simply existing beside them. i had to pretend i didn't care when you kissed me, i had to pretend to be okay when you kissed me again. i've been pretending to be okay with so much i don't know what being okay is anymore."

danielle still says nothing.

"but that's all gone to shit now, hasn't it?" your voice can't break now, but it does anyway, even when your not done speaking. "i can't be okay with everything. i can't be casual about everything, danielle. not anymore." there's a hot tear running down your cheek, but you try to hold yourself together.

"i never want to hurt you, ever, danielle. but i am seriously hurting myself. i am eating myself from inside out. there's nothing casual about that."

"i think i might be in love with you." is the first thing she says in minutes. and that's when you shatter completely. you turn around to leave your mug of now cold tea on the counter and you rest your elbows on it to hide your face in your hands.

"do you think that helps?" you're sobbing.

"i'm sorry. i know it doesn't. i just had a moment of realization and i think that's why i was so upset. i didn't want you to end this because i was in love with you since the start and didn't realize."

"this is fucking crazy." it really is, that's why you can't hold down the laugh of complete astonishment that leaves your lips. "do you realize how crazy this is? i just came out to you and you're- i don't even want to think about this."

"i'm really sorry, y/n." it's the first time you see guilt in danielle's face in a long time. "i really am. i really didn't know, i- i didn't know anything at all."

"you were upset of me potentially having feelings for you when it was you the whole time, huh?" this is no time or place to make jokes, you're literally crying as you speak. but this is hilarious. danielle seems to think so too given she also laughs.

"i don't know what i was thinking." she says, hiding her face in her palm in embarrassment.

"i wish i knew too." you say, "i never do."

"so what now? i mean, you clearly don't like me back." you don't understand how danielle does it. she never looks away, she faces the truth, something you're unable to do easily.

"that's a good question, i actually never thought about that." i mean, you thought the possibility of danielle ever liking a woman, let alone you, was at a mere 0.1%, can you blame yourself for not thinking of a solution to this?

"i mean, you did say you could."

"selfish asshole." you mutter to yourself, but danielle hears it anyways. "hey!"

"i'm crying right in front of you out of fear and frustration, have some respect, dude."

"i would say it wouldn't hurt to try but it clearly does so i don't know what you want to do." wow, danielle really could never do anything to make you hate her. nothing at all. "i don't mind being the selfless one this time."

"cheesy." she's always been like that, you can't say you hate it. "i'll reheat my tea and think about it."

danielle waits for you. maybe it wouldn't be so bad to risk falling in love with her too. you've risked it once.

the microwave beeps and you take your mug out. it's hot again. you turn to face danielle and she's still there, hasn't moved an inch. "i'm willing to give it a try. but nothing casual."

she shines you the widest grin you've ever seen from her. "nothing was ever casual, i fear."

"i still can't believe you cursed." you say as you walk past her to go to your room (that probably smells like danielle's perfume again).

"i did?!" she trails behind you. you nod. "i almost jumped."

"hey, am i the first one to know?"

"what, that i'm a lesbian?" she nods, now beside you. you shake your head after a sip of your tea.

"hanni knew."

"i'm not even the first? fuck..." is she doing this on purpose... she has to be, right?

"dude? hello?"

"don't dude me, i'm your future girlfriend." she hits your arm as you walk into your room. you don't know what you're gonna say to hanni when she comes back.

"confident much? shut up and pick a movie to watch." you'll figure it out later.

end.

🗒️ this wasn't as long as i thought it was gonna be THANK GOD

#newjeans x reader #danielle x reader #danielle marsh x reader #danielle angst #newjeans angst

653 notes · View notes

bpdjennamaroney · 1 year

Text

Will and Emma are having relationship problems because Will is not taking COVID seriously enough ("Therapy"). The next day Will takes his frustration out on the glee club and accuses them of not taking COVID seriously enough (Finn doesn't understand germ theory and Brittany is QAnon.)

Will says, "You guys lack historical perspective. Back in the 80s and 90s there was a young gay composer named Jonathan Larson who saw disease and suffering all around him. When he found out he was afflicted with AIDS, he put all of his pain into the timeless and unreproachable work of art, RENT. RENT taught us about community and caring for one another and more importantly...it taught us that musicals can rock." Will sings the title song from RENT with Artie and Finn.

That night: Santana is fed up with lockdown restrictions and sneaks out of her house to visit Brittany ("Out Tonight"). Brittany is planning a big show that will blow the whole COVID conspiracy wide open. She previews it for Santana ("Over the Moon"). Santana is freaked out and breaks up with Brittany. Santana can excuse ignoring disease prevention guidelines but she draws the line at being Republican about it.

Also that night, Will tries to sleep with Emma but she's too COVID-cautious ("Green Green Dress"). She says maybe they need some time apart because of their different priorities.

While grocery shopping, Will runs into Holly Holliday. Holly is lighting scented candles in the middle of the store but for some reason all of them are defective/unscented ("Light My Candle.") Holly propositions Will. Will says he's seeing Emma, and Holly admits she also has a boyfriend.

"I'm sure we can work something out," Holly says. "Meet me at the basement of the swinger's club at 9:00."

Will shows up at the swinger's club and spots his old rival, Brian Ryan (the Neil Patrick Harris character). They glare at each other, then confront each other and it's revealed that Brian is Holly's boyfriend ("Tango Maureen.") She knew Brian and Will were old high school rivals and set all this up because she's into the whole enemies-to-lovers thing.

Will scolds her. "That is so cruel and manipulative of you. I can't believe you would do this."

Holly tries to convince him to live life to the fullest. ("Another Day.")

Eventually Will thinks about what proud openly gay icon Jonathan larson would do, and he has a threesome with Holly and Brian ("Contact," I'm afraid.)

The morning after, Will can't believe he kind of cheated on Emma/hooked up with Brian and really enjoyed it ("Real Life").

On Monday, Brittany and Santana are still broken up but sitting on opposite sides of the choir room is emotionally difficult for them ("Without You.")

On the way home from school, Kurt and Blaine are like "Aren't you glad we're not like Brittany and Santana, breaking up every 5 seconds over something stupid?" and they sing "I'll Cover You" but then they break up over something stupid.

Will contemplates his sexual awakening, torn between Holly+Brian and Emma ("Johnny Can't Decide/Come To Your Senses" mashup).

The tension in glee club is unavoidable.

"Mr. Shu, this is ridiculous," Rachel says. "Ever since you brought up RENT and Jonathan Larson, it's been nonstop hookups and fighting. Also, Jonathan Larson wasn't gay and he didn't die of AIDS! He was straight and died of some random heart thing."

"What? Jonathan Larson wasn't gay? So my sexual experimentation was under false pretenses?"

Will immediately calls and breaks it off with Brian and they argue ("What You Own").

The next day Santana says "I can't believe we caused this much fuss over a straight man, who died of a random heart thing."

"Wait, just because he was straight doesn't make his words less powerful," Finn says.

"You're right," Will says. "Maybe I'm bisexual." ("Louder than Words.") And then they all sing La Vie Boheme.

At some point Santana and Mercedes sing "Take Me or Leave Me" as their glee club presentation. (It's a four-part episode.) Also I think Gwyneth would have fun with Today 4 U, don't kill me.

#glee #rent #jonathan larson

720 notes · View notes

sarahowritesostucky · 6 months

Text

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, cannibalism, kidnapping, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, dub-con

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

A.N.: It's not as murdery as it sounds 😅 But, as per usual: minors DNI. It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen"--or something like that

1. Specialty Ingredients

Steve watches, mouth literally hanging open, as it happens again: his date is stomping away, mad.

He just called Steve a scrawny, cock-teasing twink for making out a little on the sidewalk, but then declining to go back to his place to hook up. The guy pressed the issue and Steve got frustrated and told him tersely that he wasn't interested because they just met, okay? That went over like a lead balloon.

Steve scowls as the jerk disappears around the corner at the end of the block. “Well fuck you too,” he mutters, feeling put out—and okay, a little hurt, too. He’s not a cocktease. He’s not scrawny.

Well, maybe that second one is kind of true, but Steve hates how guys will act like they’re into his small stature when they think he’s a sure thing, but then get all derogatory and mean about it once he tries to tell them he’s looking for more than a hookup and wants to take it slow—and not even hetero people slow; gay guy slow, which is super fast in comparison! Steve just wants to get to know a guy for once before sleeping with him. Is that really so bad?

He huffs and turns around, walking dejectedly back to his car. Another handsome asshole, another hope dashed, another pathetic date. He really does have the worst luck, and he’s getting plain sick of it. He checks his phone before he drives away.

Clint: Well???

Steve sighs. He types back a reply to his friend

Steve: another dud

Clint: dude …

Steve rolls his eyes and chucks the phone onto the passenger seat. He turns the key in the ignition, the radio coming on to an old eighties love ballad that just worsens his sense of dejection. “Fucking figures,” he mutters, putting the car into drive.

He leaves the song playing though, because sometimes wallowing is called for.

The next morning, Steve wakes up in a glum mood. He tries to focus on his work for most of the day, rather than his horrible luck with dating, but as he paints the hours away he winds up pouting about it anyhow. He sinks further and further into a depressing pit of self-pity and despair.

Clint texts him, asking if he wants to go out and sing karaoke or something, and Steve knows he’s just trying to cheer him up and all, but he really can’t stand the thought of being cheerful right now.

Steve hates gay guys, he thinks, stomping over to the crappy small sink in his crappy small apartment’s kitchen. He runs the water and rinses off his brushes with a vengeance they don’t deserve. Gay guys suck. Steve hates how shallow they all are, how vapid and self-centered. All they want is to go clubbing and fuck around and that’s it. None of them want a real relationship, and they think Steve is boring for wanting to have a meaningful conversation instead of suck their dicks right away. He gets grumpier about it the more he thinks, and he even has the thought that at least if he were straight he could find someone with feelings, a desire for genuine connection. “Gay guys suck,” he mutters to his poor, abused paint brushes.

Nevermind that Steve himself is incontrovertibly homosexual and has no choice in the matter of what his dating pool consists of. After all: ‘Haters gonna hate, players gonna play’. “Gaays gonna gay, gay, gay, gay, gay.” Steve sings the tune under his breath. He just hates it, hates it all. He’s sick and tired of playing the game.

He sends Natalie a nastily self-deprecating text:

Steve: Know any of your girlfriends who might want to date a faggot?

It’s not nice, and he knows she won’t like him using that word in that context.

Natalie Potential Rich!! Buyer: another douche huh?

He sighs and texts back an apology with a huggy emoji.

Steve: Sorry 🤗 Just frustrated. All the good ones are taken and I’m not interested in the skanks who’re left over.

Natalie responds with the “Give that man a Snickers” Diva-meme, which makes Steve realize that he is, in fact, hungry. He needs to get something to eat. He needs to focus on himself for a change. Maybe it’s finally time to stop looking for Mr. Right and just enjoy Steve Rogers. Maybe he should join a gym, start a new hobby, anything to fill up his time with himself rather than another person.

He goes into the kitchen, thinking that he’ll make something yummy and binge watch a new series off his Netflix list, but scowls at the barren interior that greets him when he opens the fridge door. Nothing good to eat. “Fuck,” he mutters. He’s got to go to the grocery store now before he can sit down with a meal and relax.

And it’s raining outside, too. Just his fucking luck.

His phone ‘pings’ and he looks over at where he’d set it on the counter. The screen is lit up with a new notification from Grindr:

Henry super liked you!

He picks up the phone and opens the app. Henry’s profile pic is only from the neck down, showing off his abs. Steve rolls his eyes. The next picture is his lower half, a pair of tighty-whities stretched over his erection making it lewd, but still within the app’s no dick pic rules. The third pic is of his bare ass in a jockstrap.

Steve spends a second more than he intends appreciating the guy’s backside, but then he growls and jabs his finger at the screen to reject the guy. He’s fucking fed up with this entire thing! On a sudden, right-feeling whim, he exits the app and holds his finger down on the screen until all the icons start wiggling with their little x’s. He quickly proceeds to delete Grindr, Scruff, and Hornet from his phone.

He’s fucking done with dating. He’s giving up. Steve is just not meant to find Mr. Right. Not this year, anyway. He feels lighter after deleting the apps, and he slides his unburdened phone into his pocket with a sense of accomplishment and a shiny new idea: He’s not going to date for a whole year. He’s going to make this The Year of Steve.

Fuck yeah.

He goes to the hall closet to grab his umbrella and rain boots.

The walk to FreshMart is only four blocks from his apartment, but he still arrives at the grocery store a little damp from the gusting rain. He shakes off his umbrella by the door, grabs a basket, and directs himself towards the produce aisle. He’s added fingerling potatoes and some asparagus spears to his basket, and has just started perusing the meat section when he hears a man’s voice say,

“Hey, have you ever had this?”

Steve looks over. The guy is holding up a package of bloody red … something. Steve blinks. “Um …”

The stranger twists his lips and shakes his head, looking at the meat. “It’s venison. I thought I’d freak my sister out with something a little different.”

“Your sister?” Steve asks, feeling very odd at being asked his opinion in the middle of the meat department. He looks between the package of raw meat and the stranger—He’s unusually handsome, tall and strong-jawed, brown hair styled in an effortlessly flattering cut. Steve licks his lips nervously. “Um, isn’t that like, deer meat?” He takes a step closer to peer down at the label. “Huh.” He didn’t know regular grocery stores sold that kind of thing. “That’s … exotic,” he says, for lack of a better word.

The stranger chuckles. “Yeah, well. I actually don’t eat animals, so …” he shrugs. “But her and her husband and kids are total carnivores. Thought I’d bring something other than my usual bottle of wine.”

“Oh.” Steve peers up at the man, trying to figure him out. The man smiles sheepishly and Steve winds up smiling, charmed, if somewhat baffled. He looks the man in the eyes and is taken by how pretty they are, how intense. Damn he’s good looking. “Well I, ah, couldn’t tell you what it tastes like. I’ve never had it.” He makes a face. “Like I said, it’s exotic.”

“Oh I love to cook with exotic ingredients. I’m kind of an amateur cuisinier. Or at least I try to be.”

“Oh. Right.” Steve gestures to the blood package. “But you ah … you don’t cook only vegetarian stuff?”

The man grins (and shoot, he’s got an unfairly attractive smile, too). “I guess I just like to satisfy other people’s appetites,” he says, lips parted enticingly. And then his tongue darts out in this totally casual, should-be-illegal sort of way. “I take it you’re a meat eater,” he says knowingly.

Is that a double entendre? Steve thinks it might be a double entendre. Yes! he wants to scream. Yes! He is 1000% a meat eater. He gulps as the guy’s eyes flick down and back up his body in a heated onceover, and Steve may not always be the brightest bulb in the box, but he can tell when he’s being considered. Is this guy really flirting with him? Here? In the freaking grocery store? Is that even a real thing that happens, anymore? Steve flushes and pulls his shopping basket up higher in front of himself, like a shield. “I–I see,” he stammers. “Well … um … yeah.” God, he’s hopeless.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Venison’ll probably be … different.” He nods at the stranger, awkward and aware that the other man isn’t moving away. “Well. Good luck.” He turns and vacantly peruses the meats, pretending that he’s more invested in searching out the perfect porkchop than he really is. He hears the guy’s footsteps moving away.

“Fuck it,” the man says, and turns right back around. He takes a deep breath. “I like your boots.”

“What?”

The guy nods downwards. “Your rain boots. They’re really cute.”

Steve looks down at his feet. His rubber boots are pink and printed with the golden girls’ faces. He looks back up at the stranger, stunned. No straight guy on planet Earth would ever say such a thing. “Um. Thanks.”

The guy holds out his hand, friendly, like he’s not aware he’s acting weird as shit. “I’m James.”

Steve probably stares too long at the offered hand, before he hurries to shove the handles of his shopping basket up onto his one arm so that he can take the guy’s—James’—hand and shake it. It’s pleasantly large over his own hand. “Steve.”

James smiles. He’s arrestingly handsome when he doesn’t smile and Steve feels like an even weaker creature when he does. “Sorry,” James says, looking down shyly. “I uh, I don’t usually do this.”

“Do what?” Steve asks, keenly aware that he may just be about to be propositioned. He winces at the idea of having to turn down another good-looking jerk.

James tilts his head. “Would you …” He hesitates, eyes flicking up and over as a woman passes them. She turns and goes down the soda aisle. He looks back to Steve, distracted. “I was gonna be crazy and ask for your number,” he says, flushing. Steve doesn’t even get a chance to say anything before James is scrubbing his hand over his embarrassed face. “Fuck, I’m sorry. You’re probably not even—” He looks back to the soda aisle where the woman had gone. “Sorry,” he mumbles again, and starts to walk away. “Human disaster in the meat aisle. Just ignore me, please.”

“Wait!” Steve blurts. James turns back around. “Why do you want my number? Were you gonna ask me out? Like on a date?” He uses the word purposefully.

“Well, yeah.” James looks apologetic. “Sorry. I know it’s weird.”

It is weird. But Steve is kind of charmed by the guy’s odd methods. He promptly pushes away his resolution of The Year of Steve. “James,” he says, taking a step closer. “Um, you can. Have my number.” He peeks up at him shyly. “If you want.”

James' happy-surprised-enthused smile is the best one yet. They exchange numbers.

Clint: Wait, wat do you mean, the grocery store??

Steve: he came over and just started talking to me.

Clint: … that’s weird, man. That’s shady.

Steve: actually it was kind of cute. Kind of idk old fashioned.

Clint: Kind of weird. Whats his Insta?

Steve doesn’t hear from James for almost three days. He alternates between finding it refreshing, and being disappointed. Maybe Clint’s right. Maybe the guy was just a weirdo.

Then, on the third day, Steve is leaving from his morning shift at Michaels when he hears his phone ‘ping’ with a notification. When he sees the name “Weird Meat Guy” on the screen, his face splits in a grin.

Weird Meat Guy: Been thinking about you since the other day.

Happy butterflies come to life in Steve’s stomach at the flirtatious tone of the text. His first instinct is to force himself to ignore it for at least thirty minutes, so that he doesn’t seem overeager. But then he thinks, fuck it, just like James had said in the grocery store before turning right back around to ask him out.

Steve types a reply.

Steve: hey stranger. Yeah I was wondering how that venison worked out for you. 😂What’s it taste like?

Weird Meat Guy: I don’t eat animals, not even for my sister’s Sunday dinners. But she said it was fine. Not as good as regular old cow, though🐄🥩

Steve: not surprising.

There’s a bit of a pause where he can see James is typing and deleting and typing again. Then,

Weird Meat Guy: Do you want to go out tonight? We could grab drinks or something?

Steve bites his lip, bad memories of “casual” meetups and “just grabbing drinks” dates and what they’ve always led to, in the past.

Steve: let’s go out to eat. At a restaurant or something. A real date.

James texts back almost immediately, and his answer makes Steve beam like a fool.

Weird Meat Guy: Hell yeah. What’s your favorite kind of food?

Steve can’t help it; he has a good-verging-on-great feeling about this guy. He tries to tuck away his expectations that this time it’ll be different. He can still do The Year of Steve if or when this goes wrong. He’ll just try this one last time though. Just once more before he swears off being a “meat eater” for the year.

He tells James that he really likes Italian food, and the next thing he knows, James is sending him the link to a really nice and expensive Italian place in Brooklyn. Steve thrills at James' enthusiasm, and grimaces at the three dollar signs that Google has lined up beside the restaurant’s name.

He tells James okay, figures he’ll just tighten up his budget a bit for a few weeks after.

James meets him inside the restaurant, at the bar. He’s already got a drink in his hand. “It’s an old fashioned,” he tells him sheepishly. “Sorry to start without you.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“I just get a little nervous when I ask a cute guy out to dinner.”

Steve freezes, but then his mouth twitches. “Oh,” he says. “You, ah … you think I’m cute, huh?”

James grins and winks at him in a way that is devastating and should-not-be-allowed. “Yeah. I sure do.”

Steve is charmed.

The hostess seats them in a dark and cozy booth in the back of the restaurant. Steve settles in and looks around, impressed. “This is a really nice place,” he says, genuinely meaning it but also kind of anxious to open his menu and get a look at whatever prices garnered a $$$ on Google.

“Yeah it’s one of my favorites.” James is grinning at him from across the table. “I was so glad you picked Italian, cause then I knew I had the perfect place to bring you.”

Bring you. Steve looks down and tries not to smile too obviously at the words. “I like it so far,” he says, peeking up coyly at James so that he knows Steve doesn’t just mean the restaurant.

James seems to get it, if his expression is anything to go by.

They open their menus and Steve’s stomach drops at the forty dollar appetizers. Shit. He wishes he’d found a way to mention to James that he’s kind of a starving artist.

“Do you like mushrooms?” James asks, oblivious to Steve’s internal panic. He’s looking across the table at him with eager eyes. “They’ve got the best stuffed mushrooms I’ve ever had. I think they put crack in ‘em.”

Steve laughs despite himself, then decides ‘fuck it’ once again, and closes his menu with a nod. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s do it.” He’ll live frugally for a month if he has to.

James orders them the appetizer and an entire bottle of wine that he knows by its specific name and year. All Steve makes out is the “‘94 ” part of it, and his heart rate picks up. He’s about to really worry about how the hell much a place like this is going to charge for an entire bottle of wine that’s older than he is, but then when the server delivers it and pours for them, James shoots him a wink and tells him, “S’my treat.”

Oh. Steve’s heart flutters as much at the gentlemanly gesture as it does at the possibility that maybe James will pay for the whole meal. A guy can dream.

The mushrooms arrive and Steve gushes to James about how he was right: they are amazing. They get to talking, covering the standard ‘first date’ questions, and it’s stupid and awkward like it always is; but also it isn’t, because James seems to laugh about the awkwardness of it, too. And that makes it kind of fun.

James is thirty-seven to Steve’s twenty-seven (Daddy kink: activated). He has a place in Manhattan but his sister lives in Brooklyn, which is why he was shopping at the FreshMart in Steve’s neck of the woods the other day. He’s got one parent still living, grew up with a loving family but “pretty poor” in Jersey. He hasn’t been in a relationship or even been on a date in “a really long time.” He wants to travel more but he lets his work consume him too much. He doesn’t eat animals.

He’s also really good at making the whole first-date interrogation-phase go smoothly. It’s fun with him, Steve realizes, not awful and strained like it usually would be. Their conversation just seems to flow naturally and easily, both of them smiling almost continually as they chat and joke.

Steve is utterly charmed.

“Okay,” James says, as he pops another mushroom into his mouth and then talks around it. “I’ll do another boring one: what do you do for work?”

Steve gulps and delays answering by taking a sip of the wine—a red that downright tastes expensive. “Um, well my passion is my art. It’s what I went to school for.” He tucks his lips in and shrugs. “But, ya know, ‘starving artists,’ and all that. So I work part time at Michaels, too.”

James doesn’t look like he’s thinking that Steve’s a stereotype or a loser or anything like that. “That’s awesome!” he says, sounding like he genuinely means it. “What kind of art? Or like, what medium do you work with?”

Steve blinks. Nobody ever asks him good questions like this, like they actually care and want to dig deeper into who he really is. “Um, mostly acrylics. Some watercolors and pencil-charcoal sketching,” he says, flustering at the way that James pays such close attention to his answers. “I like to mix it up sometimes, but mostly it’s those three.” He shrugs. “I sell online. I have one really loyal patron—she keeps me afloat. S’nothing that special.”

“Sounds like you know your stuff,” James counters, not letting him insist on his own mediocrity. “If you went to school for it and all, then you must be pretty good. Don’t you have to, like, audition for art school?”

Steve blushes and looks away. “Well. Yeah.”

“And I bet you get all your supplies cheap with the side gig, huh?”

Steve stares at him. “Yeah,” he says, impressed. “Employee discount.”

James nods sagely, as if he’s ever had to worry in his life about the utility of an employee discount. He might’ve grown up poor, but he’s clearly well-off now. Steve can tell that the suit he’s wearing is a custom tailored deal, and the wine he’s ordered for the table has a bouquet of oak and dollar bills. “I think it’s really brave of you,” he’s telling Steve, looking like he admires him or something ridiculous like that. “That you’re following a passion like that? That you can just …” he makes a shaping gesture over the table with his hands, “make something with your own two hands and then sell it? That’s incredible.”

The more James talks, the more Steve gets his hopes up that he might actually be A Really Great Guy™️. Steve can hardly stand to take all the compliments, so he turns the question back around on James: “What about you? What do you do for work?”

James hesitates. “... I’m a surgeon.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and his mouth drops open, making him look like A Gold Digger™️, probably. He closes his mouth. “Oh. Wow, that’s … that’s neat. Medical school, then, huh?”

James smiles through a wince, as if being a freaking doctor is no big deal. “Yeah. It was rough for a few years, but I got through it. I’m in a good place now. It’s pretty smooth sailing.”

“So do you work at like a hospital or something?”

“Not exactly.” He stares at him for a long moment, then suddenly says, “Gosh, I’m just really attracted to you, Steve.” Steve blinks, taken-aback. He reaches for a hurried sip of his wine and tries to think of a response to the weird shift in conversation. “Sorry,” James hurries. “I just felt like I had to say it.” He gives Steve a tender look rather than a lecherous one, which is a welcome change from the usual script. “I think I might really like you.”

Steve flusters and averts his eyes to the tabletop, peeking back up at James a few times. The guy is totally focused on him. It’s intimidating, but not in a bad way. “Yeah,” Steve eventually manages to murmur. “Yeah I think you might be nice.”

James teases him about the ‘nice’, and they fall into easy banter again as they finish the mushrooms and open up their menus to choose their entrees. Steve’s once again fixated on the prices, and he immediately starts trying to see if there’s anything under sixty dollars …

“By the way,” James says casually, not looking up from where he’s reading his menu. “I know this place is fucking ridiculous: I got it covered.”

He says it all easy and nonchalant, like it’s no big deal that he’s treating Steve to what’s probably a three hundred dollar dinner, and Steve once again feels like he’s on a date with a hero, a real gentleman. “Kay,” he says smally, feeling delighted and hopeful as heck on the inside.

He orders a seafood linguini, and James gets a spinach and cheese tortellini dish. “This is so good,” Steve practically moans around a mouthful of his food.

James makes a noise of agreement, stuffing another tortellini shell in his mouth. “Mmph.”

“So you really don’t eat any meat?” Steve winds up asking. “Like, not even fish or chicken or anything?” Where does he get his protein? James looks like he keeps in good shape …

James chuckles. “Nope. Haven’t touched the stuff for … gosh, almost fifteen years.”

“Wow.” Steve spears up another shrimp from his pasta and wonders if it offends James. “So like, is it an ethical thing or just …”

“No, no. I just kind of had this epiphany one day—while I was tenderizing a thigh, mind you—that all the things I was eating were living creatures, that we’re animals just like they are.” He makes a thoughtful face as he considers it. “It’s not a moral viewpoint so much as it is a …” he trails off and his eyes return to Steve with an apologetic shrug. “I dunno. My viewpoint shifted that day. Couldn’t shift it back. I’ve tried so many other things now, animal meat just doesn’t taste the same anymore.”

“I can respect that.” Steve wiggles his fork that’s speared with a juicy scallop. “As long as you don’t mind this.”

“No, no way. Don’t you remember where we met?”

Steve snickers. “Oh yeah, how could I forget. What was it you said? You like to ‘satisfy other people’s appetites’?” He chances a flirty look across the table. “Wasn’t that how you put it?”

James chews, smirking, and he winks at Steve again. Goddamn. “Yeah,” he says lowly. “Yeah. I sure do.”

On the sidewalk outside the restaurant they stand close together, bundled in their jackets. Neither one of them seems to want to leave. “Thanks again,” Steve says. “For dinner. It was really nice.”

“My pleasure.” James takes a step closer, so that they’re almost toe to toe. “I was so excited to go out with you,” he says. He brings a hand up and traces the side of Steve’s face with the backs of his fingers, not looking at Steve’s eyes but rather where he’s touching his cheek. “You’re different,” he murmurs. "And I knew it the moment I met you."

Wow, what a fucking intense thing to say. Steve … doesn’t hate it. “I am?” he whispers, watching his breath swirl on the air between their faces.

“Mmhm. I can tell.”

Steve shivers and fights the urge to press into James’ touch on his cheek. It feels unduly intimate, and they’re already so close. “I was excited for tonight, too,” he confides. “I’ve had a lot of bad luck with dating. Was getting sick of trying, to be honest.”

“But?” James asks softly, and Steve looks up at him, for once feeling open and honest enough to just admit,

“But I didn’t meet you on some app. And you liked my stupid Golden Girls boots.” James chuckles and Steve looks up, taking in his face up close: the dimple in his chin, the creases of age that’ve barely begun to collect at the corners of his eyes, that one tiny patch of grey in his beard. It makes him all the more insufferably handsome. “And you’re charming,” he whispers. “So there’s that.”

James smiles softly. “Aw, shucks.”

“I think you’re a really nice guy, James. I’d like to see you again.”

James' smile widens hopefully. “Yeah?” he says, leaning even closer.

“Yeah. I think, well … I just think …”

“What?” James touches his face again, this time palming his cheek. “Tell me.”

“Oh, it’s nothin’.” Steve finally lets his eyes slip closed, enjoying the feeling of James’ hand on his skin, the cologne he gets a whiff of when they’re standing this close. “You smell nice.”

“Thank you. Still haven’t told me what you were gonna say.”

Steve smiles sadly. “Oh, I’m just getting my hopes up about you, is all.” He’s still got his eyes closed when James kisses him. He inhales sharply through his nose, surprised. But he doesn’t pull away, and they just … keep kissing.

Eventually James cups his face with both hands and Steve moans, because the way James is kissing him feels so natural and good. He feels like he can taste James' good intentions as they make out softly, right there on the sidewalk.

When they part they’re both panting a little, heavy-lidded eyes flicking over one another, gauging, desire tinged with uncertainty. “That was …” James breathes.

“Yeah,” Steve says, and they both stare at each other for another long moment, before Steve says, “Fuck it,” and surges in to grab James by his jacket and kiss him again, this time harder. James whimpers needily into his mouth, and heat shoots through Steve’s belly at hearing it, arousal flaring to life faster than he can handle. Suddenly his pants feel a little tight, and he wants James so badly he can hardly stand it. “Oh man,” he groans, pulling away from the kiss, grimacing at himself for what he’s about to say. “I really, really never do this,” he promises against James' lips. “But … Do you want to go back to my place?”

James' eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

They kiss eagerly one more time and then hurry off, giddy, hands clasped, and headed in the direction where James says he’s parked his car.

youtube

Masterlist

🍵Consider tipping your friendly neighborhood starving artist smut author!

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

65 notes · View notes

xiaq · 1 year

Text

Steddie Time Travel Fix-it: Pt. 5

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Eddie is dismayed to find that he likes Steve Harrington.

He likes his dry sense of humor and sarcastic quips; his earnest questions and stupid little head-tilts when he’s concentrating. It should be weird, the concentration. It should feel strange to be the obvious and sole focus of Steve’s attention, but it’s not. After only a cursory discussion of Steve’s character–which is shockingly well thought-out with a multi-paragraph backstory and even a drawing, Steve asks about Eddie’s last campaign and then keeps asking follow-up questions and—

Eddie doesn’t know how it happens, but suddenly it’s well after dark and he’s slurping the dregs of a chocolate milkshake while Steve leans forward on his elbows across from him, smiling softly as Eddie gestures his way through recounting a particularly devious twist he’d engineered for the party.

The waitress comes over to take their empty plates. She’s been entirely unambiguous about her interest in Steve since the moment they sat down: All shoulder-touches and soft laughter and a level of attentiveness to their water glasses that far supersedes the service Eddie has ever received when he’s come alone to the diner.

And Steve has all but ignored her.

She’s pretty, is the thing. Eddie might be gay but he’s not blind and she’s—very pretty. Petite. Curvy. Glossy hair, straight white teeth, and a sweet husky sort of voice that even he can admit is nice to listen to.

But Steve hardly spares her a glance aside from general courtesy. The last time she’d come over to cock her hip and let her fingers linger on his arm and ask if he was sure there wasn’t anything else she could get for him he’d shifted just enough to dislodge her hand, given her a bland, fleeting, smile, and answered, “just the check, thanks,” before immediately turning back to Eddie and gesturing for him to continue.

It makes something warm and dangerous well in his chest and threatens to spill out of his mouth. Eddie thinks the attention might be going to his head. Because the way Steve is looking at him is––it feels intentional. Intimate. And he still has absolutely no idea what’s happening with Buckley and the kids and…Hopper of all people. He doesn’t understand why they’re all so interested in spending time with him. He should probably take Wayne’s advice and give Harrington a wide berth. But he’s only a man. And Steve Harrington is looking at him.

“So,” Eddie says, fumbling a bit as his story winds to an end. “Enough about that. We, uh, we should look at your character some more, right? Since that was the whole point of this rendezvous.”

Steve glances at the full tables around them, wrinkling his nose. “It’s kinda loud here. You wanna go somewhere else?”

The words are casual, off-the-cuff, but they’re delivered with the same, strange urgency that was in Steve’s voice when he asked about Eddie’s favorite song.

“Somewhere…else,” Eddie repeats.

“My place is a little bit of a drive,” Steve prompts.

“...we could go to my place?” Eddie suggests.

Steve’s posture loosens. “Yeah, cool. If you don’t mind.”

Eddie continues to have no idea what’s happening.

“Sure,” he says.

Steve tosses a handful of cash onto the table–more than enough to cover both their meals, and stands.

“Cool. Let’s go.”

And then he’s offering Eddie his hand.

Eddie doesn’t need a hand. He has two perfectly functional feet and is wholly capable of standing without assistance.

He takes Steve’s hand.

He lets Steve wrap his fingers around Eddie’s wrist and pull him up and off the tacky bench seat and then he lets Steve pull him down the narrow aisle between tables and out the door into the parking lot and Eddie doesn’t protest.

When Steve releases him to walk around the car to the driver’s side, Eddie does not flex his hand like a Victorian maiden who has only just felt a man’s touch for the first time.

He doesn’t.

The ride to the park is short and full of cool evening air through the open windows and Steve softly singing along to songs that really ought to be screamed. Eddie taps his fingers to the drums on the sun-warmed siding of the Beemer and tries to look outside and not at Steve’s profile. He’s only about 40% successful.

It’s Wayne’s night off, which means that when they get to the trailer and Eddie ushers Steve inside and into his bedroom, he gets two raised eyebrows from his Uncle on the couch followed by a smile hidden behind a cough when Eddie flips him off in response to the raised eyebrows.

Eddie shuts his bedroom door and gestures for Steve to make himself comfortable. His room isn’t a terrible wreck but there isn’t much space even when it’s clean, which means he now has to contend with Steve Harrington sitting on his bed.

He has a small, quiet, crisis about that.

“So,” Steve says. “Can you tell me about this new campaign? Not––I don’t want to cheat or anything. Just, like. So I can start thinking about it?”

“Well,” Eddie says, kicking off his shoes. “It’s set in the world of Greyhawk, and I’m calling it,” he puts on his sinister voice, and reaches to flip the light switch back and forth a few times, “The Curse of the Cult of Vecna.”

And Steve—

Stops.

His fingers, which had been unlacing his sneakers, go still. His bouncing knee and his nodding head and just—everything. Totally frozen.

Eddie is pretty sure he stops breathing.

And then he’s breathing too fast and too loud and he’s sliding from the bed to the ground, pushing himself back in some sort of fucked up crab walk until hes pressed into the corner.

“Whoa, hey,” Eddie says, “Steve?”

He’s looking right at Eddie but he’s clearly not seeing him.

Steve gasps, chokes on the gasp, and then gasps again.

He looks terrified. The kind of terror Eddie’s never actually seen in real life before. More importantly, it seems he’s forgotten how to breathe. Because his shuddering inhales are raw and horrible and make Eddie’s throat hurt in sympathy.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Eddie mutters. And then, louder, “Wayne! Wayne, I need help!”

The door slams against the opposite wall a moment later and it takes Wayne all of two seconds to drop into a crouch beside Steve on the floor.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know! We were just talking and then he ––I don’t know. Do we call an ambulance?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head at the same time Wayne says, “No, go get me some ice.”

“Ice?” Eddie repeats. His voice is high and panicked and he doesn’t even care because Steve Harrington looks like he’s dying on Eddie’s bedroom floor.

“Ice, Eddie, now,” Wayne says, using a voice that automatically has Eddie scrambling for the freezer door and knocking cubes out of the tray and into his hand.

“Hey now,” Wayne is saying to Steve, quiet but firm, “you had attacks like this before, son? Okay. You know the drill, then. You want to breathe with me? Will that help?”

Eddie comes around the corner to Wayne’s hand hovering over Steve’s chest.

“Can I touch you?”

Steve nods, or manages something close to a nod, and Wayne splays his palm on Steve’s stomach. He gestures Eddie forward.

“Eddie is going to give you some ice cubes and you’re going to focus on how cold they feel while you breathe with me, okay? Good. And when you breathe, you try to breathe into your belly where my hand is like––perfect, just like that. You’re already on the right track, kid. Ice, Eddie.”

Steve’s hands reach, sort of, and Eddie throws himself back down onto the floor, forcing Steve’s slack fingers around two ice cubes in each hand. His right hand can’t seem to keep them contained, fumbling the cubes one, two, three times onto the carpet, so Eddie keeps his own fingers wrapped around Steve’s, forcing the ice tight to his palms.

Wayne takes a deep breath and Steve’s mimicry is painful to listen to.

“Good,” Wayne lies. “Again.”

They breathe.

And they breathe.

Eddie falls into the cadence with them, feeling dizzy with some combination of panic and confusion and relief that Wayne is here.

He feels useless.

He is useless.

What the fuck even happened?

When Steve’s breathing has evened out a little and he’s able to hold what’s left of the melting ice on his own, Eddie stumbles over to his record player and puts on his Holy Diver album, lifting the arm to place the needle right in the gap area where the title track lives.

When the song starts, Steve looks up at him with a shaky exhalation of a laugh.

“Thanks,” he rasps. “Sorry.”

Wayne rocks back on his heels, wrists on his bent knees.

“You feeling better, son?”

“Much,” Steve agrees. “Thanks. I might sit here for a minute, though.”

Wayne makes his standing-up groaning noise, using the bed to get to his feet. “We’ll allow it.”

He meets Eddie’s eyes and nods him over and Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice. He crams himself back in the corner with Steve, shoulders touching. Steve huffs out another laugh.

He looks exhausted.

“Landslide,” Eddie says, swaying so he can shove a little at Steve’s side.

“What?” Steve murmurs.

“My song. The one that would bring me back to myself. It’s Landslide. Fleetwood Mac. My mom loved that song. She liked when I’d sing it for her on bad nights.”

He’s never told anyone this before. He studiously avoids eye contact with Wayne.

“Oh,” Steve says. “That’s…yeah. A good one.”

He opens his eyes, glancing first at Eddie beside him, then Wayne, standing in the doorway.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, voice all rough like he’s just come off stage at a show.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Wayne says. “Can’t help the shit your brain pulls on you. I’ve got more than one friend with the––I think they’re calling it ‘PTSD’ these days, but it was ‘shellshock’ in my Dad’s day. Got the ice trick from a buddy of mine that served in Vietnam.”

“I didn’t go to war,” Steve says quietly.

Wayne makes a considering noise. “War ain’t so singular a thing as most people think, in my opinion.” He knocks on the door frame. “I’ll leave you boys alone. Let me know if you need anything.”

And then the door is closed again and Eddie is looking at Steve’s hands. They’re wet from the melted ice. His jeans are blotchy with darkened damp patches where his hands are resting. Eddie wants to offer him new clothes to change into. He wants to wrap Steve in his favorite blanket and tuck him into his bed and make him stay the night. He wants to fix whatever has made his face look like that.

Eddie has always had a thing for strays, for the injured and the sick and the weak and the outcast. That’s not a surprise. But he’s still coming to grips with the fact that Steve Harrington apparently fits into that demographic.

“So,” Eddie says. “Can I ask what uh, what happened? There.”

“Sorry, it’s so fucking stupid. It’s. It was the lights, the flickering, but also just…Vecna.”

He says the word carefully, like it comes with a sour taste. Like he’s walking cautiously around it. His fingers curl briefly into fists. “I had no idea I’d respond like that, though. I’m sorry.”

“Ok, well, fuck that,” Eddie stands, grabbing his campaign-planning spiral off the top of his dresser. He chucks it, as dramatically as possible, which is very, into the trash bin.

“What?” Steve says.

“No more Cult of Vecna. I’ve been wanting to do another Waterdeep campaign anyway.” He scrubs a hand through his hair, warming to the idea. “Dragonheist would be good since we have a couple newbies.”

“Hey, no.” Steve pushes himself up enough to clamber back onto the bed. “You shouldn’t change your campaign because of me. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you kidding? This will likely be my only chance to corrupt a jock. I’ll pull out all the stops for you, Harrington.”

He fishes a fresh spiral from the stack on the shelf above his dresser and grabs a pen from the mug beside it. He holds the cap between his teeth, felt tip poised over the paper.

“Anything else I should avoid?” he asks. It’s mostly a joke, when he says it, until he glances up and sees Steve’s face. It looks like he’s actually considering it. Like he does have something he wants to add but doesn’t know how serious Eddie is.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Demogorgon,” Steve says finally. “And Mind Flayer.”

“And a hearty fuck you to the prince of demons and all Illithids as well,” Eddie says, making note of it with a flourish. He caps the pen again. “Oh! I almost forgot.”

He squats to pull out the bottom drawer of his dresser, rifles through it for a moment, and then stands, triumphant, with a Hellfire shirt. He lobs it at Steve who catches it easily with one hand.

Jocks.

“You have to wear the shirt on Friday,” Eddie says sternly. “Everyone wears them on meeting days. Thems the rules.”

“Are you kidding?” Steve’s voice is still rough, but he’s not pale anymore, and he’s sort of smiling. “The cool shirt was the whole reason I asked to join.”

Eddie laughs, moving to sit beside him, nudging their shoulders together because he wants to touch and gently stroking Steve’s hair isn’t an option.

“I am kidding,” Eddie says, “you don’t actually have to wear the shirt to school. But it’s yours if you want it as an official member of the club. You can like, sleep in it or whatever.”

Then again, Eddie doesn’t sleep much of anything. Steve probably doesn’t either. That’s not a trail of thought he’s going to continue down.

“I’m wearing the shirt to school,” Steve says.

He looks like he’s serious.

Eddie drums his fingers in his knees, considering. “You’re aware that’s going to be social suicide for you, right? I don’t know if it somehow escaped your notice, but I feel duty bound to inform you that Hellfire members are at the bottom of the Hawkins High food chain. Walking the halls in that shirt will be the equivalent of…” he has to think for a moment, because he honestly doesn’t know how to conceptualize it. “... taking an intentional swan dive from a royal parapet down into the abyss of peasant-dom. You’ll be rubbing elbows with the unwashed masses.”

Eddie nudges him again with one elbow because he has an excuse.

“I’m pretty sure I already jumped off that…parapet,” Steve says dryly.

He’s not exactly wrong. But if Steve actually shows up unapologetically sporting the Hellfire devil ––Eddie isn’t worried, per say. But that’s a target. Not just on Steve’s literal chest and metaphorical back, but on the entire club. They’ll have to be careful. More careful than usual.

“Besides,” Steve says, nudging him back. “Maybe I like the unwashed masses.”

Eddie swallows. He does not read anything into the line of Steve’s body pressed against his. “Your funeral.”

“I’m wearing the shirt,” Steve repeats. His tone leaves no room for argument.

“Alright,” Eddie agrees. “You’re wearing the shirt.”

Pt. 6

#steddie #steddie fic #fix it fic #stranger things fic #time travel fix it #myfic #eddie x steve #steve/eddie #eddie/steve #steve harrington #eddie munson

171 notes · View notes

xsapphic-celestialx · 2 months

Text

guys I ended up on the wrong side of swiftie tumblr please help get me back to the normal side where people don’t think that Taylor swift is secretly a lesbian who is singing to k*rlie kl*ss 😭😭 like istg she could marry Travis tomorrow and have 8 kids with him and they’d all be like “omg performance art” like you really think queen kylie kelce would involve her family in this if it was fake? The same kylie who is NOTORIOUS for not taking any bullshit? You think she’s involving her kids in this? Not a chance (side note Kylie kelce please adopt me I love you)

also if she was gay it makes more sense from a pr perspective for her to be single for a while rather than for her to have a “beard” she’s constantly slut shamed for having boyfriends and it’s not like those men get away Scot free either…. like she was fresh out of a 6 year relationship she could very easily have gone the “taking some time to work on myself before I get into another relationship” route if she didn’t want to date men anymore but instead she went straight to matty Healy of all people (which I genuinely think is one of the worst decisions she’s made in the past 5 years but then again she’s a grown adult who can do what she likes it’s none of my business and that is an opinion for another day)

“she’s being so loud in her songs only gaylors would understand” so close! Believing that a celebrity is sending you secret messages is actually a sign of schizophrenia! She’s not your friend she doesn’t know you and you should probably seek help xx

p.s. if you read this and felt offended I suggest you get a job I’ve heard they’re really good at filling all that free time you use to try and tear apart a stranger’s relationship

#anti gaylor #gaylors dni #Yes ik bi people exist no I don’t think she is one #Before people come at me for homophobia I’m literally a big fat lezzer don’t even try it #swifties #taylor swift #tayvis #travis kelce #mine taylor swift #honestly just tagged that song because I love it and I will never pass up an opportunity to say it’s the best #Hetlors #Please I’m normal 😭#kylie kelce #please adopt me my queen #Don’t come at me for the lack of punctuation I’m gay #Gaylors if you feel the need to comment just know I’m going read it and laugh at you #Not right away though I do have a life outside of tumblr #Can’t say the same for you guys #Honestly if you’re a gaylor how did you even find this I purposefully didn’t tag you guys because I know what you’re like

50 notes · View notes

belphiesgirlfriend · 1 year

Text

Obey me! Brothers music taste headcanons

——————————————————————————

more like ramblings than headcanons tbh but i had this stuck in my head and needed to get it out, also feel free to send requests for diff headcanons!

Cw’s: none!

Little bit satirical (i over exaggerate sometimes cuz it’s funny) but pretty in character overall i thinkk

——————————————————————————

Lucifer:

• You know this motherfucker listens to classical music and classical music only cuz he’s boring

• Okay but jokes aside i see him listening to like 30’s 40’s 50’s music especially the love songs.

• Like straight up fallout 4 soundtrack music, he’d listen to it while doing paperwork or unwinding

• He’d definitely be really prideful (no duh) about his taste in music, he’d feel all fancy and refined when he tells people

• Type of dude to be like “modern music simply can’t compare to the classics…” shut up grandpa we get it u know bach’s zodiac sign, penis size, and mothers maiden name

• Wants to be different so bad, he’d strictly listen to music from his vintage record player or some shit cause it’s the “most authentic” way to listen, fr acts like a manic pixie dream girl (he’d hit me upside the head if he heard me say that sorry luci🫶)

——————————————————————————

Mammon:

• r&b and spanish music

•but i feel like he’d like 2000s party music from all the clubbing and casinos

• def a weekend listener and like 90’s rap

• but also like i wouldn’t be surprised if he listened to some 90s rock too

• he’d listen 2 sublime or nirvana or local h (i’m projecting on the last one)

• but anyways he’d be a #1 rihanna fan he’d blast her music in his room but then deny liking her💀make it make sense!!

• also he knows her best album is loud CAUSE HE HAS TASTE!!

• also tyler the creator i get the vibe he’d love him

• kali uchis fan too

•ALSO i feel like he had a phase where he listened to juice wrld and was like “these cheating lying females….” after he got his heart broken by a witch YOU CANG TELL ME IM WRONG😭😭 it’s okay though cause he’s embarrassed by it now

• oh childish gambino too duh forgot about him

ALSO LET ME MENTION DINERO IS LITERALLY HIS SONG ITS ACTUALLY HIS

——————————————————————————

Levi:

• this one’s gonna be real fucking short IM SORRYYY

• he listens to anime openings and game soundtracks

• also vocaloid

• that’s literally all i can think of dude

• he’d be like “i don’t have time for normie music…”

• his room is literally that old caramelldansen meme from 2019/2020

——————————————————————————

Satan:

• this one was harder for me to pinpoint

• first instinct would be classical music but it’s canon he likes ska music too so 🤷‍♀️

• i really do feel like he’d listen to all types of music, like a true jack of all traits, if he likes it he likes it so his playlist is allllll over the place

• for some reason i get a vibe he’d really like 80s music in particular though

• the song that pops into my head is who can it be now? by men at work idk why

• maybe even older music i feel like he’d like sam cooke

• OH both him and belphie would like mazzy star and fiona apple idk why but they would

——————————————————————————

Asmo:

• okay crucify me for this one but…mitski I JUSG FEEL LIKE HE WOULD

• but i also see him loving lady gaga a lot cuz he has taste

•omg he’d listen to old katy perry too

•but yea also probably lil nas x he’d have a celeb crush on him

• oh tyler the creator too with his gay ass, him and mammon both love him, they def have done a duet to see u again

• he’d be a barb probably defend nicki too😭

• and as much as it pains me to say it, he’d fucking listen to ayesha erotica and be like “this is so good!!!”, hed post a devilgram story with one of her songs and then get cancelled on twitter

• “I made a severe and continuous lapse of judgement…” and then did the same thing a week later

——————————————————————————

Beel:

• type of guy when you ask him what music he listens to he goes “idk i don’t really listen to music”

• he legitimately looks up “hype playlist” on youtube to work out and that’s the extent of it

• really can’t see him being a big music guy

• if u invited him to a concert or something he’d go though for food

•he’d give you a piggy back ride so u can see better

• tbh if u were to put on music he would not care much no matter how good/bad it is

• you could walk in on him working out and literally listening 2 cbat or some shit

• HE LITERALLY IS CBAT GUY😭 he’d be like “i always use this song when i’m working out..

——————————————————————————

Belphie:

• emo fucker

• i feel like he’d like emo/ 90s rock ( but more “rockish” than mammons 90’s rock)

• but he’d also love any more relaxing music with softer vocals

• he’d be a deftones fan I KNOW GHATS FUCKING BASIC AND UR ROLLING UR EYES BUT LISTEN

• they have the combination of 90s rock but also more soothing calming vocals, theyd literally b perfect

• and for that reason his favorite albums r koi no yokan and saturday night wrist, also their self titled,

• would call mammon a poser for his music taste “nirvana isn’t even *real* rock idiot🙄”

• but nah, also like i said in satans fiona apple and mazzy star fan

• he’d suck so bad though he’d go on twitter and be like, “if you like deftones ur a poser” (while being their number 1 fan, fucking brat) then turn off his phone and take a nap for the funny

211 notes · View notes

henrysglock · 1 year

Text

Mother is God, In The Eyes of a Child

This has got to be my farthest-fetched theory, and its more of a collection of observations that weave together than an actual theory. However...there's something distinctly weird about all this.

It started here:

Max steps on spider egg sacs in Vecna's mind lair, and the babies spill out.

"If there's a spider, you're never gonna find it 'till it lays eggs and the babies spill out"

Then Vecna killing Patrick while looking distinctly like a spider on a web, a direct comparison to those black widows.

And I talked in the discord chat talking with Em for a while like. They. They wouldn't. Right? And I've been sitting here thinking about the last time I said "they wouldn't...right?" So here we go.

"Of course you have a mother. You couldn't really have been born without one."

But Mama is dead...

just like One doesn't exist.

And whoever you are, either you aren't home (which, you're "Terry's daughter" in Terry's home which was decorated for you in hopes that you'd come home 🤨)...or you aren't Terry's daughter.

but wait: Mr. Mom? Perfect!

Mr. Mom...which leads straight to the lab going haywire:

Because of the Mind Flayer, who we know is (most likely) a version of Edward.

And "sleepyhead" is a parent thing...but it's specifically a mom thing, and it comes from the guy who's likely Edward. Why are you, as a man, so distinctly mother?

And so I'm looking at all of his God coding:

And I'm looking at his talk of spiders, particularly black widows, being the gods of our world:

There's also this particular dialogue parallel with Carrie's mother:

As well as Black Widow "God of Our World" 001 and Henry "Sensitive (Gay) Child" Creel, framed this way in back to back shots.

One of them has the rainbow flag and the other's got the black widow spider, makes sense...right? (Sure. Except not really.)

He also has a ton of God coding in his music choices:

Except, when we look at the songs he alone or he and El are overlaid with...Akhnaten is functionally a mezzo-soprano. In the pieces we hear specifically, Akhnaten sings in the same range or higher than Nefertiti.

Which then gets me thinking about the Silent Hill parallels (that Em has talked about here), and specifically this one line of dialogue from Dahlia:

And the fact that every single black widow spider reference regarding Henward/Vecna/001 has been about female black widows, never male ones:

As well as a good portion of his rant being about:

- Being vaguely broken (what's wrong with him is never said) - His kinship with spiders (specifically the female black widows) - Society's oppressive made-up rules - Being forced to pretend (unspecificed as to what, exactly, he's pretending about...all we get is "a silly, terrible play") - Reproduction

Then the fact that Vecna kind of has a thing for showing up as mothers:

And on top of all that...the fact that Vecna somehow lost his dick along the way. Where did it go????????

There's also all the birthing and reproduction imagery that goes along with the UD, most blatantly in the scene where El crawls out of the same hole the Demogorgon came through:

As well as these movies from the ST4 Movie Board:

Ace Ventura Pet Detective: Finkle has a sex change to assume a new identity and seek vengeance.

Let The Right One In: Vampire girl who is really a boy being forced to live as a girl

Sleepaway Camp: Girl named Angela who is actually a boy named Peter being forced by his aunt to live as a girl after his twin sister (the real Angela) was killed in an accident. (Wibble knows more about this one than I do, but I'm staring at Peter Ballard and all of our Angela's parallels to the lab)

Splice: Female Human-Animal hybrid "dies" (is actually in a coma) and undergoes a spontaneous sex change to male and proceeds to go berserk.

Silence of the Lambs: Main villain is a blonde, wavy-haired cross-dressing serial killer.

And then with the parallels to Room (even if it isn't on the ST4 Movie Board):

Plus Will's Alan Turing poster and the castration stuff that goes along with that..and the "Henry" that shows up behind him:

What in the gender is going on here?

#martin brenner. what did you DO.#he wanted more. and soon...you were born.#henry creel #edward creel #henry/vecna/001 #edward/vecna/001 #st theory #stranger things theory #stranger things

321 notes · View notes

matan4il · 2 years

Text

Buddie 608 meta

Buck babysitting Jee Yun was adorable, but what gets to me is that it seemed to come with more question marks than when he was looking after Chris in 301. Does that imply something about how often he babysat Christopher without Eddie present even before that little “intervention”? In any case, it re-affirms that even relatively early on, Buck was very much a part of the Diaz family. ~~

It actually feels weird that in this entire ep, Buck is around kids, talks about kids, but doesn’t address the issue of him possibly fathering a biological kid of his own that he won’t get to raise. Is this a hint that he’s def in denial? It was especially loud because we saw him talking about Chris, while spending time with Jee Yun AND Denny. The former two make sense, but Denny? The only other time we saw Buck around Denny was in 310, when the scene was primarily about Eddie watching Chris with Buck. So it feels like it’s very pointed that he’s around more kids than usual, yet not addressing the biggest issue related to that taking place in his own life.

At the same time, to connect both of the above points, the difference between how we see Buck with Jee Yun, his actual family, in this ep, and how he’s with Denny (he’s in the same scene with him, but hardly interacts with the kid, they’re even physically separated by Hen) serves as a reminder that Chris isn’t like another colleague’s child to Buck. What they have is how Buck treats his own flesh and blood. ~~

Carla reminding Eddie that the fantasy is sometimes better than the reality, when she’s the person who, in 413, encouraged him to follow his heart… Is this the show building towards Eddie’s next step on his romantic journey? IDK, but with this continued theme of him watching Christopher maturing into his own person, leaving him to find out what makes him happy outside of being a dad, it would seem to fit. ~~

I loved Buck asking whether Chris isn’t too young to date, then being asked himself to reminisce about his first crush. Which was in fact way earlier (and a reminder that not every crush is about being old enough to date). It made me snicker a little, ‘coz it was such a good reminder that our boys are a bit oblivious about matters of the heart in general. And yes, it comes from an overprotective place of caring, much like Buck’s reaction to hearing that Chris is going to a summer camp in 318, but it def explains why they’re not very good at following their own heart or figuring out what it’s telling them.

At the same time, Buck asking whether Chris isn’t too young to date, followed almost immediately by Eddie saying he didn’t think his son was old enough to kiss others, screamed VOLUMES to me about how much these are both Christopher’s dads. They literally have the same reaction where no one else from the team does. This cannot be accidental or meaningless. Especially when paired up with the fact that it’s Buck who Eddie looks to first to sooth his apprehension over Chris kissing someone, and he only turns to the other teammates when his work husband is being a bit of a tease and refuses to give Eddie the reassurance he seeks... Flirting at your place of work on top of being obvious co-parents, seriously? ~~

I loved Buck’s comment about the song “It’s Raining Men.” It wasn’t just a funny comment on its own, it was also a nod to a gay anthem. One of the most well known as well as one of the earliest ganthems (that should be a word), in fact. So while it’s not a clear indication of anything about Buck’s sexual identity, it is an added hint in a long series of hints that he isn’t straight. And to add to that, when Buck makes that comment, it’s Eddie who’s there by his side to make one of his iconic faces at that. They’re not just battlefield boyfriends, they’re battlefield husbands, exasperated eye roll included. ~~

NGL, May and her crush Darius realizing where they’d rather be, or better yet with whom, after their ordeal with Erik very much reminded me of 414. Buck CHOSE to fully integrate himself into Eddie’s life and be by his side in every way that counts, while he literally saw Taylor and immediately started walking in the opposite direction, while Eddie broke up with Ana shortly after. It kills me that they still don’t get what stuff like that means. Literal bozos. ~~

Eddie threatening to only speak to Carla about stuff related to his son growing up might have been said in jest, but it also served as sort of a set up for her being the one to stay with Eddie and watch Chris outside the dance. And I adored that scene, with that soft look on Eddie’s face, his moving words! Yet, I can’t see either this arc, nor Buck’s with the sperm donation, being complete without the two of them having a real conversation about what’s going on with them and their respective parental journeys. Especially not after the Buddie stuff we got in 5b which locked them in as each other’s person forever. There’s no coming back from that stuff. So I can only assume that it is coming in 6b. And hopefully, it will be all the more emotionally effective for how long we have to wait for it. Hey, that’s the whole point of a slow burn to begin with, right? ;)

~~ Thank you to everyone liking, reblogging and especially those who consistently reblog these meta posts, you own a small piece of my heart. I wouldn’t be writing a meta post on a day when I’m sick AND working a double shift if it wasn’t my way of saying thank you. I really love and appreciate you all. Also mad love to @whosoldherout for once again slaying with her amazing gifs, and just for being so wonderful. xoxox

#buddie #911meta #buddie meta #911 meta #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie gif #buddie gifs #buddieedit #911edit #911 gif #911gif #911gifs #911 gifs #wm #911onabc #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

705 notes · View notes

talesfromthesnogbox · 1 month

Text

The Midnight Kiss

Summary: Henry attends Alex's New Years Eve party and experiences his last first kiss ever. Henry's POV of Red, White & Royal Blue, Chapter Four, pages 99-108

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,905

AO3 Link

Alex was an absolute menace. He had no right looking as good as he did in a burgundy velvet jacket, his hair a tousled mess, skin shining and red from dancing. It was the first time they’d been face to face since their weekend at the palace, the first time actually together since becoming friends, and Henry was starting to get… ideas.

He wasn’t totally positive, but it sounded like Alex was flirting with him over the phone, and their text messages too had become increasingly flirtatious.

Henry was reluctant to accept the invitation to the White House’s New Years party from June when he’d first received it, but Pez insisted they go. He’d finally broken down and told him about the turkey situation in early December after resolutely deciding nobody could ever know about it, about how openly he flirted and how easy the banter came, but Pez knew everything… and it wasn’t hard for him to tell that Henry was smitten.

The party was in full swing, and Henry was not nearly as drunk as Alex was, but he was slowly catching up. Henry felt a bit like a fish out of water, Pez having left him for June and Nora’s company, Alex being the life of the party in the middle of the dance floor, it was him and his bottle of champagne against the world. Well it was, until Alex pulled him in with his inescapable force of gravity.

“You don’t dance?”

Alex was slurring slightly, swaying on the spot, definitely drunker than Henry would dare to get at a diplomatic event.

Henry was a fine dancer, just… not in this style. “No, I do, it’s just, the family-mandated ballroom dancing lessons didn’t exactly covers this?” He’d been forced to dance with many eligible bachelorettes with varying titles, and he didn’t mind it; truly he was a wonderful dancer, and the ladies he kept company with were remarkable young women. But there was no passion, no feelings, just a fond sense of camaraderie.

“C’mon, it’s, like, in the hips. You have to loosen up.” Henry had to fight to keep his grip on the neck of the bottle as Alex’s hands were suddenly on his hips. He sucked in a breath, heat crawling up his neck and his face going red. Luckily he could play it off as being the heat of the room getting to him, or the alcohol going to his head if anyone asked, but anyone who really knew him would see the red flashing lights of GAY PANIC take over. “That’s the opposite of what I said.”

“Alex, I don’t—” His voice cracks giving him away entirely. It had been far too long since he’d been touched by a man and Alex’s controlling nature in that moment was doing things to him.

“Here, watch me.” Alex’s hips moved sensually, doing little figure 8’s, and Henry tried not to make it obvious that he was watching for more than just the technique.

He took a gulp of champagne straight from the bottle and nodded a bit. “I am.”

His eyes dragged up Alex’s lithe body, loose and free, until they reached his face, just in time for the realization of a song change to dawn on Alex.

“Shut up, shut your dumb face this is my shit!”

Henry was clearly missing something. The song sounded vaguely familiar, but this wasn’t the type of music his social circle was known for playing.

“Did you seriously never go to an awkward middle school dance and watch a bunch of teenagers dry hump to this song?”

Henry shot him a look, holding onto his champagne for dear life. “You absolutely must know I did not.” As ridiculous as the moment was, it was refreshing for Henry to feel like, for even a second, he was seen as just a normal kid doing normal kid things like bumping and grinding to a popular song with his friends at a dance.

“Nora! Nora! Henry has never watched a bunch of teenagers dry hump to this song!”

“What?”

His face goes ashen. “Please tell me nobody is going to dry hump me…” A brief flash of a vision of Alex behind him, hands on hips, lips on his neck, or Alex in front of him, thigh pressed between his own, a large hand fisted in his hair, teeth at his earlobe… He shook the sudden horny thoughts from his head.

“Oh my god, Henry. You have to dance. You have to dance. You need to understand this formative American coming-of-age experience.”

And that’s how Henry found himself in the middle of the dance floor while Get Low blared from the speakers surrounding the venue.

He knows he must look a little shell shocked. Pez is totally into it, hands on the floor, ass in the air twerking against June, Nora behind Alex looking hilarious as she just reaches his shoulder. It’s a lot, but it’s fun. He giggles as Alex eggs him on, tries to replicate the figure 8 hip swivel with little success. Henry is sure he looks totally silly, but he doesn’t care. June whispers something in Alex’s ear, the siblings glance at Henry and each give him a once-over, and he goes somehow, even redder. And from there, then night goes on.

He’s sure his crush on Alex is entirely obvious by the way Henry follows him around the dance floor like David followed him around Kensington Palace as a little puppy. Henry stands around on the dance floor, almost not believing his luck at how close he’d become with the man he’d harboured a silly little crush on, until Alex catches him staring, in which case he starts dancing again.

Nora follows the two of them around as well, Henry hadn’t expected her to latch onto him the way she did, but she was actually quite fun, even if she could totally tell where Henry’s heart lay. She was Alex’s best friend, and Henry knew this, but the way she was around Alex… he was annoyed at how she’d tried to befriend Henry then dangle Alex in front of him.

Midnight was quickly approaching, the booze had been freely flowing, and Henry’s tolerance for Nora waning. He smiled politely as she pulled them both in close for the countdown, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes as hers drifted to him. Finally, the clock struck midnight, shouts of ‘Happy New Year!’ Rang out through the room, and as Henry looked over to Alex, he was met with the sight of Nora planting her lips on his.

Disappointment swelled through Henry, his heart dropping down to his stomach as he watched the smaller woman drag her fingers through the dark curls he longed to touch. He could feel tears prickling his eyes, and he pleaded with himself not to cry and entirely give himself away, but it was hard to resist it. Alex broke off the kiss with a satisfied smirk, and met Henry’s eyes. He hoped he couldn’t see the hurt in them, hoped his heart wasn’t sitting right on the outside of his body, but he knew that hope was futile. Henry took a deep swig of champagne straight from the bottle, settled it down on a nearby table, and dashed out of the crowd.

I wish you were here dad, Henry thought as he stood in the middle of the snow covered garden, completely losing track of what time it was and how long ago he’d left the party. I really need you right now, need you to tell me it’s okay, that I’ll get over him, that my person is out there.

The silence was welcoming, just him, and the stars, and the faint sound of music and fireworks in the distance, and… someone stubbing their toe?

He hastily wipes at his eyes, and turns to see Alex stumbling over, confusion written all over his face.

“What’re you doing out here?”

Henry focuses on Alex’s face. “Looking for Orion.”

He hears Alex snort, not quite registering how close he’s moved towards him. “You must be really bored with the commoners to come out here and stare at the clouds.”

“I’m not bored,” he says, trying his hardest not to sound as pathetic as he feels in the moment. “What are you doing out here? Doesn’t America’s golden boy have some swooning crowds to beguile?” Ouch. He winces at his own words, knowing he sounds a bit like an ass.

“Says Prince fucking Charming.”

“Hardly.”

Alex steps up beside Henry. A jolt runs through him as their hands brush by their sides, and Henry can feel his self control waning.

“You didn’t really answer my question, though.”

A groan rips through Henry, and he rubs a hand across his face. This was his worst nightmare, he could handle the heartbreak, but the questions that followed were hell to answer. “You can’t ever leave well enough alone, can you? Sometimes it gets a bit… much.” Henry can feel Alex’s eyes on him, but he continues looking forward. Alex moves beside him, leaning against the tree, brushing their shoulders together, and it’s almost too much for Henry. Oh no, he thinks, feeling his mouth start to move, floundering around a question he doesn’t think he wants the answer to. “D’you ever wonder what it’s like to be some anonymous person out in the world?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just, you know, if your mum weren’t the president and you were just a normal bloke living a normal life, what things might be like? What you’d be doing instead?”

“Ah.” Henry turns his head to assess Alex. “Well, I mean, obviously I’d be a model. I’ve been on the cover of Teen Vogue twice. These genetics transcend all circumstance.” Henry rolls his eyes dramatically and turns his head back to facing forward. “What about you?”

What about me? He’s thought about this, a lot. The world was changing, it was a more accepting place for people like him, but not for people of his position. He had so many ideas, thoughts, dreams, wishes. Henry shook his head, answering as truthfully as he was able to. “I’d be a writer.”

“Can’t you do that?”

His eyebrows raised. Yes, technically he could write a memoir, or something of the sort, but that’s not where his passions lie. He could never publish what he’s written, the poetry too flowery, too obvious, too queer, the world would know right away, and his grandmother had already made it known what she thought of people like him. “Not exactly seen as a worthwhile pursuit for a man in line for the throne, scribbling verses about quarter-life angst.” He shook his head again. “Besides, the traditional family career track is military, so that’s about it, isn’t it?”

There was more he wanted to say, more bubbling to come out about his brother, but he held his tongue. The air between them was thick, the silence deafening, almost as if Alex knew he had more to say, and was waiting for him to say it. And before he could stop himself, the words were leaving his lips. “I’d date more, probably, as well.”

Henry winced as Alex’s sharp laugh broke the tension. “Right, because it’s so hard to get a date when you’re a prince.”

His head whipped around, facing Alex once more. “You’d be surprised.”

“How? You’re not exactly lacking for options.” Oh if only he knew.

I’m gay, Alex, the Prince of England’s Hearts can’t be gay. Why aren’t you seeing me, why aren’t you hearing me, please don’t make me say it out loud, please don’t make me show you you’re the only option I want.

“The options I’d like…” Henry’s eyes bored into Alex’s, hoping he’d understand, but his expression was just blank. “They don’t seem to be options at all.”

“What?”

You, holy shit Alex, it’s you. You’re straight, you have Nora, you have women all over you, and you’d never go for the likes of me because I’m a man. A gay man, Alex, a gay man who has a big gay crush on you, and…

“I’m saying that I have… people… who interest me.” He turns his body fully towards Alex, eyebrows raising pointedly. “But I shouldn’t pursue them. At least not in my position.”

Henry had only really, formally come out to two people in his life: Percy and Beatrice. Pez was his best friend since Eton, and well, he’s Pez. There’s no chance he didn’t know about Henry’s sexuality before he sat him down tearfully one day and told him about his awful first kiss, but Henry spelled it out for him anyways, and Pez being the best friend he was, pulled Henry into a hug. His grandmother was technically the second, although he never actually told her about his preferences, so he doesn’t even count it. Beatrice was another tearful confession in the midst of collecting her from a drug-addled night out. Alex could be the third; there’s no way Alex could be homophobic, tonight’s party had proven that with his guests being all different types of people, and the way he fluidly flirted with anyone in his path, but that doesn’t mean he’d want to stay friends with Henry if he knew the truth about him. Especially if he knew how Henry felt about him.

Henry stared him down, waiting for a response, but all he got was, “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

He blinked. “You really don’t?”

“I really, really don’t.”

Well, this was going disastrously. His resolve was breaking entirely, and there was just enough alcohol in his system to make him want to do something stupid. But… would it really be that stupid after all? Henry thought back to all the conversations they’d had… the banter, the flirting, what if Alex truly didn’t care that Henry was gay, what if he wasn’t getting it because, well because he knew already. And if he already knew and still flirted, then…

Then maybe…

He took a deep breath, glancing towards the sky, looking for Orion again, and sent up a silent plea.

“Christ, you are as thick as it gets,” Henry breathes out hastily before rushing forward, taking Alex’s jaw between his hands, and kissing him.

His lips were warm, and Henry could taste faint remnants of the champagne they’d been drinking earlier on them. Just as he thought he would be, Alex was totally frozen in place as one of Henry’s hands slides from Alex’s jaw to his dark curls, the curls that were indeed as soft as they’d looked. The alcohol coursing in his veins kept him from overthinking about how awkward first kisses could be, especially when only one party is into it, but then…

Alex’s lips moved, but didn’t break the kiss. They slid against Henry’s as if testing the waters, opening him up to more, and in a shocking turn of events, Henry followed Alex’s lead.

His hands, though static before, moved around to Henry’s waist, drawing him in closer as their mouths moved in tandem. Henry couldn’t help the slip of tongue that his hazy mind convinced him was instinctual, but it didn’t matter because Alex followed suit, and soon enough, they were intertwined. It was natural, it was breathtaking, it was… big.

It was just a kiss, Henry had had plenty of those, but something about this kiss felt… life-altering.

Henry barely registers it, but Alex makes a noise in the back of his throat, and suddenly, it was as if someone had doused him in ice water. Reality kicked in, he’d just kissed Alex, he’d just kissed Alex, and it could never happen again. He pulled away, his eyes wide and stinging with unshed tears, and gazed into Alex’s. They were glazed over, he was drunk and probably wouldn’t even remember it, and… and for some reason it hurt Henry.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, putting more space between them, before dropping his gaze to the ground. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, walking away.

Once Alex was out of sight, he pulled out his phone and texted Pez that he was leaving the party entirely, and they’d catch up in the morning. Lord only knows he’d found someone that would be better company for the night, and was hopefully having a better night than Henry was.

He didn’t sleep; he couldn’t cry, couldn’t scream, couldn’t be anything but mad at himself for doing something so stupid during a moment of weakness… Henry had no idea how he was going to ever face Alex again. He almost wished they were drunk enough to forget it ever happened, but he couldn’t even play it off as being drunk, their conversation was too coherent. Alex was a flirt, he saw it that night with everyone at the party, so the kiss couldn’t have meant the same thing to him as it did to Henry. The reality of it was harsh, but the more Henry thought about it, the more it made sense. Alex was straight, Alex was drunk, Alex had a momentary lapse of judgement, and Henry could never let him know how he really felt about him. And now that he’d had him, even if only for a fleeting moment, he knew the only way to get over him was to cut him out.

#firstprince #rwrb #rwrb fic #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #henry x alex #firstprince fic #my writing #red white and royal blue

20 notes · View notes