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#this is! pre first meeting
arytha · 2 years
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[Image ID: A drawing of my OC Lorne, who is seen leaning over a table in front of them to look at a pile of papers. One hand casually braces themself on the table, their other hand reaching out for the middle paper, which features a line drawing of Era's portrait. Lorne's expression betrays their interest, eyebrows furrowed with a slight smile on their lips. Lorne is wearing flowing robes, and on his belt is a red loop of bells, alternating silver and gold in color. End ID]
A spark of interest.
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loveinhawkins · 1 year
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There’s a table in the school library that’s nestled in the corner, right by a radiator; Steve has claimed it ever since his double block of ‘private study periods’ began.
Not that he’s planning on doing any studying: it’s the last day of school before the winter break, and while his face has healed up from the whole Billy Hargrove Incident, he still finds himself feeling wiped at random—like his body’s having a delayed adrenaline crash ever since he pulled Dustin out of that freaky vine-infested tunnel.
So really, this spot should be ideal for a couple hours of not having to think.
And it would be perfect, if his eyes weren’t instinctively drawn to movement at the front desk.
Because for the past god-knows-how-long, Eddie Munson has been in a back-and-forth with the librarian.
It had started when he ambled up to the desk with a healthy pile of books in his hands, placed them down neatly, all ready to be stamped. Flashed a charming smile.
Steve was too far away to hear the words, but he got the gist that whatever the librarian had said amounted to no, absolutely not, because Eddie scooped the books back up, dumped them on a table a little distance away from Steve’s, then hemmed and hawed before returning to the desk with a more modest pile than before.
He was sent away again with presumably the same refusal, and so the pattern repeated until this very minute: he’s returning with just one book in his hands, his smile less charming now, more desperate.
But… no luck.
Eddie slouches back to the table in defeat. Just stands there, staring down at the books.
And goddamn it, Steve thinks, now he’s invested.
“Hey. Munson,” he says in an undertone. “What’s up?”
He doesn’t miss the weird kind of double take Eddie gives him, but at least Steve knows it’s not because of his face being a mess this time—seriously, drawing looks from students when all he wanted was to get in line for crappy cafeteria pizza had not been fun.
“Nothing,” Eddie says with a shrug, and he flashes another wide smile that makes Steve think bullshit. “Apparently I racked up a mountain of late fees. Who knew?” He sighs, glancing at his wristwatch. “Guess I’ve got enough time to just read the—oh. Um. Hey?”
“These books?” Steve confirms, having already stood up to look at them.
Eddie blinks a few times. “Yeah, these—uh, Harrington, what the fuck do you think you’re—?”
Steve heads over to the front desk with the books. It’s not all that difficult of a decision to make; he remembers Tommy H had his own library late fees in freshman year, but got nothing more than a simpering, “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, sweetie,” just because his mom knew someone on the school board.
“For checking out, please,” Steve says, not bothering with a smile as he hands over his library card.
The only resistance he gets is a raised eyebrow from the librarian before all the books are stamped.
“What the fuck,” Eddie says, voice flat; he doesn’t take the books when Steve tries to give them to him, so Steve just shrugs and goes back to his seat, sets the books pointedly on the edge of the table.
“Look, man, it’s up to you, but I’m not gonna take them. They’ll just be sitting here.”
Eddie huffs. He goes over to the books, his hand twitching towards them before drawing back, like he’s at war with himself.
“You—you didn’t have to do that,” he gets out as if it physically pains him to do so.
Prickly, Steve thinks.
“It’s no big deal,” he says. “My account’s gathering dust, so someone might as well get the good of it.”
At hearing that, Eddie looks a little less defensive. He chews on his lips for a few seconds, then says, his tone serious, “Harrington, I’ll—I’ll forget. Like, with the holidays… like, I guarantee you, even if I write a million fucking reminders, I’m gonna take these books and forget to bring ‘em back for months.”
“Oh, no,” Steve says dryly, “lemme go alert the press, I just heard a blatant confession to a crime. Dude, just take them, what do I care if your homework takes you months to—”
“It’s not even for school,” Eddie interrupts through gritted teeth, “it’s dumb, it’s just—”
“Jesus Christ. Lemme call the press again, sounds like you’re reading a book for fun.”
Eddie stares at him. Steve raises an eyebrow in challenge—he could do this all day; just the other week, he’d beaten Mike in a brutal staring contest that felt like it went on for hours.
Eddie breaks first. “Fine,” he says with another huff, but he’s less agitated when handling the books—lingers thoughtfully on their titles, puts a couple in his backpack. The rest he opens at seemingly random parts, but it looks like he knows what he’s searching for.
And then it seems as if he’s just going to pick up the remaining books and walk away—Steve expects him to, honestly—but he ends up staying where he is, gives Steve a look of consideration, almost like he’s a book worth reading, too.
“You stole my table, you know?” Eddie says.
“Uh, no,” Steve says automatically, then adds with more confidence, “I was definitely here first.”
Eddie snorts. “Nope. My senior year, uh,” he shrugs self-deprecatingly, “the first time around. That was my spot. Was pretty possessive over it too, think I signed the table, like, underneath.”
Steve’s eyebrows rise in interest; he runs a finger along the underside of the table and soon feels it: an E.M scratched into the wood.
“Huh,” he says. “Guess you’re right.”
A pause.
And then Steve surprises himself.
“There’s, um, room here, if you want? I’m not gonna use the whole table.”
Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. There’s a long enough silence in which Steve considers just telling him to forget about it, but then—
Eddie sits down opposite him.
It’s not as awkward as Steve was expecting: Eddie seems focused enough on his books, on bringing out a battered looking journal with sheets of paper that look like they’re hanging on by a thread. He roots around his backpack some more, retrieves a ballpoint pen with a quiet, triumphant, “Aha!”
He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve isn’t even making an attempt to look busy; his own side of the table is bare.
“Didn’t know you were left-handed,” Steve says after a moment.
Eddie looks up from his note-taking. He smirks, waggles his eyebrows briefly. “Fitting, huh? Spooky.”
“Oh, I’m terrified.”
And Eddie actually laughs—hushed, but it still counts as one.
He soon returns to being absorbed in whatever it is he’s writing, which means Steve has less of a distraction when the familiar wave of tiredness washes over him.
He tries to sit up as well as he can, conscious of the fact that he’s not alone, but the radiator is the perfect temperature, and the steady scratch of Eddie’s pen has a soporific effect. He’s distantly aware of the fact that his head is nodding down with dwindling energy to try and stop it—hears Eddie’s voice, as if from very far away, rising in question.
Steve sniffs sharply, jerks his head back up and blinks hard. “What?”
“Oh, sorry,” Eddie says quickly, and he sounds genuine. “Didn’t know you were sleeping.”
“I wasn’t,” Steve says.
“Uh, okay,” Eddie says. His lips twitch. “That was an awfully long blink then, Harrington.”
“Shut up,” Steve retorts mildly. He stretches slightly, hides a yawn behind his hand. “Did you actually want something or—”
“Nah, wasn’t important.”
Steve frowns, unconvinced. The side of Eddie’s left hand is covered in ink, and Steve can see where his pen has started to die on him as his writing gets more faded across the page.
Steve puts a hand in his pocket, brings out another ballpoint and throws it at Eddie.
The pen bounces along the table, and Eddie manages to catch it one-handed.
“Good catch,” Steve says.
“Thanks,” Eddie says. He sounds almost uncertain.
Silence falls. It only takes another minute or two of hearing Eddie writing away for Steve’s determination to stay awake to waver again. He slumps forward with a mumbled, “M’just gonna…” and lays his head down.
Eddie stops writing.
“Hey, man, are you… okay? Like, if you feel… if you wanna go home I could take you to the nurse? Or—”
“I’m fine,” Steve says into his folded arms. “S’just… the aftermath of… stuff. No big deal.”
“Oh?” Eddie says tentatively.
Steve lifts his head up a bit, squints dubiously. “C’mon, Munson. You must’ve heard the rumour mill.”
Billy Hargrove had spread it all over the school, how he had ‘taught King Steve a lesson.’ In all honesty, Steve hadn’t cared all that much about how he himself came across in whatever story Billy created, was just relieved that at least Max and Lucas’s names had been kept out of it.
“I don’t put much stock in rumours,” Eddie says carefully. “Folks can say… all kindsa things.”
Steve nods faintly. Fair point.
“Okay, but you can take a little bit of stock in this one. Like, a smidge.”
Steve demonstrates with his thumb and forefinger.
It’s only when Eddie doesn’t smile in response that Steve realises he’d been hoping to make him laugh again. Maybe.
“Huh. Well. For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Steve says tiredly.
“Harrington. I’m not stupid, y’know? That was more than a… a stupid fight after school or something. Like, I can remember what your face looked like.”
“Gee, thanks.” Steve sets his head back down, closing his eyes.
“I didn’t—I just meant whatever it was, it… it went too far. Way too fucking far.”
Steve yawns again, doesn’t bother hiding it. “Yeah. Something like that.”
He’s resigning himself to the thought of waking up with a stiff neck before Eddie sighs and says, “If you’re gonna sleep, Harrington, don’t be an amateur about it.”
Steve looks up in time to see Eddie reaching underneath the table with one leg, hooking his ankle round the empty chair next to Steve and shoving it closer to him.
“Three or four’s probably the best amount for stretching out on,” Eddie says. “Uh, speaking from experience.”
Steve smiles. “Noted.”
He manoeuvres himself until he’s lying much more comfortably across the seats, using his backpack and coat as a pillow.
Frustratingly but predictably, despite his fatigue, sleep doesn’t come easily, so Steve looks underneath the table and asks, “What’re you writing about, Munson?”
He can see Eddie’s boots, how one foot is tapping away, as if in time to a song no-one else can hear.
“Um, I was just… getting inspiration for… it’s kinda like. Like a story, but—”
“Don’t hurt yourself, dude,” Steve says, “I know what a campaign is.”
The foot tapping stops.
“Aren’t you just full of surprises?” Eddie says.
He sounds a bit far away again, though Steve knows that’s just in his head; he can feel his eyelids drooping.
“You’ve got…” He sighs, voice trailing off as he finishes, “No idea…”
Eddie launches into a speech; Steve can follow it well enough for a little while, Eddie rambling about the kind of decisions he thinks his players will make in the game, but eventually the words become a blur, and he drifts off just like that, into an unexpectedly peaceful sleep.
He wakes with the lightest of touches to his shoulder, a soft, “Steve?” that nevertheless makes him jolt to full alertness in a blink, reaching for a bat he doesn’t currently have.
“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps, almost falling back against the table. “What the hell kinda military training d’you have, Harrington?”
“Just have good reflexes,” Steve says, hopes it sounds casual enough as he breathes through his suddenly racing heart.
“Yeah, that’s one way to fucking put it. Anyway, uh. Sorry, didn’t mean to, like, startle you, but you slept right through the bell, man.”
Steve sits up; the library is empty apart from them, the librarian shooting them a not so subtle glare. And he realises that while everyone else was rushing out of school, eager for the holidays to start, Eddie must’ve stayed. Waited for him.
Steve runs a hand through his hair, quickly puts on his coat.
“God, sorry, you didn’t have to—if I’ve made you late, I’m—”
“Nah, don’t sweat it.” Eddie puts his backpack strap across one shoulder. “I wasn’t in a hurry. Um, are you… like, good to drive? I can give you a ride, if—”
“I’m okay,” Steve says, struck by the consideration behind the offer. He means what he says though; he feels pleasantly refreshed. He smiles self-effacingly. “Think I need one class where I can just sleep, and then I’ll get through the day.”
Eddie gives a playful scoff. “That’s already a thing, Harrington, it’s called first period.”
They walk out of the library together, and Steve finds that it’s kind of… nice, honestly. He keeps waiting for some awkwardness to creep in again, but it never does.
“Big holiday plans?” Eddie asks, smalltalk that should be stilted, but it just sounds like he’s sincerely interested in the answer.
Steve shrugs. “Not really. Oh, I’ve got—you know the Snow Ball thing tomorrow, at the middle school? There’s this kid I know, I’m gonna give him a ride there, but—”
Steve breaks off with a fond shake of the head, knowing that there’s this kid I know doesn’t really give it justice, doesn’t say the full truth: that Dustin Henderson has somehow wormed his way into Steve’s goddamn heart forever.
“His mom’s invited me over for dinner tonight,” he continues. “Think he wants, like, a dress-rehearsal of his outfit or something, which is probably the closest he’ll ever come to admitting he’s nervous. I kinda feel for him, honestly. God, do you remember being thirteen? Everything seemed to matter so much, and most of it was just… stupid shit.”
They’ve reached the parking lot, and Eddie gives Steve a sideways look with a bemused smile.
“Woah, Harrington, we’re still in school, remember? Don’t think we’re meant to sound so world-weary yet.”
Steve chuckles. “Yeah.” He gestures at Eddie’s get-up. “Bet you’ve never once cared about the stupid shit, though.”
What people think.
Eddie’s smile turns more knowing. “Shockingly, Harrington,” he says, “I didn’t come out the womb like this.”
They both hesitate; they’re at Steve’s car now, Eddie’s van parked in a space that’s further away. There’s no reason, really, for the conversation to continue any longer.
But Eddie still lingers.
“Uh, enjoy your dinner, I guess. If the… dress-rehearsal goes shit, just tell the kid it’s good luck for the real night.”
Steve laughs. “He’s in the Drama Club, so that might work, actually. Thanks, Munson.” He opens the car door as Eddie nods, starts to head off to his van. Seized by a sudden impulse, Steve calls, “Happy holidays!”
“Yeah, you too.” Eddie turns, tapping at his temple exaggeratedly. “Won’t forget about the books, I promise.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “You better not,” he says, tongue-in-cheek.
He starts the car and heads for Dustin’s house, honks the horn when he drives past Eddie’s van, catches Eddie waving.
Steve thinks he quite likes the idea (regardless of whether it’ll put his library account in jeopardy), of the books finding a permanent home at Eddie’s place. Briefly imagines Eddie writing with an ink-stained hand, curled up safely in a world of his own—where the only monsters are the ones that live in between the pages.
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metalhoops · 2 years
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Steve was used to climbing out windows. Before his junior year, he’d made a habit of entering through and escaping from girls' houses unnoticed. He was stealthy. He’d learned how to scale trees and tread lightly across roof shingles with the deftness of a nocturnal animal. Yet, for the first time, he found himself escaping his own home. There was a first time for everything, right? 
Steve’s parents were home. The second Steve saw the familiar BMW pull into the Harrington’s driveway, he knew he wanted to be anywhere but home. His parents were only palatable when he had good news, but all he had to tell them was that after their last visit, The Mall had burnt down and he’d gotten a new job at a video store. He really was doing the family proud. He didn’t want to deal with it, not today. 
That’s how he found himself crawling out his bedroom window, shimmying across the guttering and trying not to sprain his ankles as he dropped onto the lawn. He headed out back, past his pool and into the woods. Usually, it was the last place you’d find Steve. He kept expecting to run into a Demogorgon or something equally as nasty. 
He walked for a while without direction, trudging through the underbrush until the rustling of leaves behind him set his teeth on edge. His body moved before his mind had time to keep up. He spun on his heels, hand scrabbling to the forest floor in search of a weapon. It supplied him with a fallen tree branch, almost too large to heft comfortably, but he did it, running on adrenaline. He came face to face with a familiar, wide-eyed boy. 
“Holy shit, Harrington. Take it down like ten notches,” the boy grumbled, showing his upturned hands as though trying to calm a startled animal. 
Hawkins was a small town, the kind of place where everybody knew everybody. Steve knew the boy with deep brown eyes and dark hair, halloed by fallen leaves, was none other than Eddie Munson, or as he was colloquially known, ‘The Freak’. They’d gone to high school together. He thought the guy was due to repeat his senior year, again. He didn’t know what he was doing alone in the woods. 
“What are you doing?” Steve asked.
You couldn’t blame him for being on high alert. Even if Eddie was someone he’d grown up with, that didn’t make him safe. Steve was still riled up after running down Billy Hargrove with his car. He was paranoid. He’d had a rough couple of years. 
“Collecting sticks,” Eddie breathed, indicating the large bundle in his hand. 
“Collecting sticks?” Steve echoed. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe him. He couldn’t fathom why the guy was doing it.
“Yeah, I’m making a miniature log cabin for my D&D campaign, and you know, miniature logs are just... sticks—you don’t care, anyway. Sorry for startling you, my liege.” Steve tilted his head, thinking the acronym was familiar. 
“Is that the dragon game, with the Demogorgon and junk?” Eddie looked at Steve like he’d sprouted a third head.
“How the hell do you, Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington, know what D&D is?” 
Steve wished people would stop calling him that. Every time he heard the stupid nickname it felt like someone was rubbing chunks of asphalt into his gravel rash. He wondered if Eddie felt the same about his title. 
The old Steve would’ve used it just to spite the guy, to see what buttons he could push, not because he wanted to but because it was expected of him. It wasn’t an excuse. He knew that. Instead, Steve shrugged his shoulders and told the truth, something the old Steve never would’ve done.
“I babysit some nerds who play it,” he confessed. 
Eddie looked at Steve in wonder. He was puzzled, amazed and, for once, a little intrigued. He’d never looked at Steve like that back in high school. The two rarely crossed paths and when they did, they never spoke. Sure, Eddie ranted about ‘jocks’ as a whole, but Steve had always just been one piece of a puzzle. It would seem redundant to yell at a patch of blue and grey for being a picture of the sky. 
“Why did you need to take up a babysitting gig?” 
To answer that, Steve had to embellish a little. Maybe he no longer liked lying about who he was, but he couldn’t exactly dump the cosmic mind fuck that was The Upside Down on some unsuspecting guy. 
“I needed money.” 
“You needed money? What, did you get cut off?” Steve shrugged in response. 
“Christ, what did you do? Piss in a family urn? Trash the house? Get a girl pregnant?” Eddie questioned.
“I think generally existing was enough to do it,” Steve mumbled, kicking at the dirt beneath his shoes. 
Eddie let out a low whistle. 
“Hey Harrington, think fast,” Eddie called, throwing the bundle of twigs in his direction. Steve dropped the branch and grabbed the bundle with wide eyes. 
“What was that for?” Steve choked. 
“What are you doing in this neck of the woods, anyway?” Eddie asked instead of responding. Steve shrugged, still cradling the bundle to his chest. 
“Avoiding my parents.” 
“You got any plans for the rest of the day?” Eddie spoke. Steve responded with a shake of his head. 
“Well, you know, this really is a two-person job, so if you wanted to come back to my place, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” 
For some reason, Steve agreed. 
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Eddie had a habit of collecting strays. 
There was the cat he’d kept under the bed when he was six and the gathering of stray dogs that hung around the back of the trailer park that he’d been feeding for as long as he could remember. The same theory applied to people. He made friends with the loners, the weird kids, the ones with wide eyes and nowhere to go. He was a bleeding heart, so sue him. However, he’d never expected Steve Harrington to trigger his urge to protect and befriend. That really hit Eddie out of left field. 
Never in Eddie’s wildest dreams did he imagine he and Steve would be sitting across from each other at his small dining table, Steve’s knee pressed on the inside of Eddie’s thigh. The jock’s still hands held small bits of twigs in place as Eddie worked around him with his hot glue gun. The guy had seemed so lost, back in the woods, so unlike how Eddie remembered him. He knew about D&D for Christ’s sake. Eddie wondered if he’d woken up in an alternate universe because it seemed like Steve Harrington was actually a good dude. 
He asked Eddie about his goddamn log cabin, tavern. Then he’d pushed deeper. ‘Why do you need a bar in a game about dragons’? To which Eddie explained, of course, you do more than just fight dragons, which appeared to be news to Steve. Besides his friends, no one showed interest in Eddie’s ‘stupid little fantasy game’. With Steve, questions came thick and fast. Eddie loved every second of it. When he’d asked why Steve cared so much, the guy had shrugged his shoulders and muttered,
“I might be able to impress the kids.” 
Eddie decided to ask about ‘the kids’. He and Steve didn’t have much in common. Sure, the two could commiserate about high school together, but neither man was in the mood to do that. And god, Steve could talk about ‘the kids’. 
“I run a D&D club called Hellfire. If they’re starting high school this year, send ‘em my way. I’ll tuck your little ducklings under my wing. Keep the big scary jocks away from ‘em,” Eddie noted, feeling comfortable enough with Steve to take a jab at him. Steve surprised him again by snorting out a laugh.
“Make sure you do. That Jason kid’s a senior, right? Total psychopath. The kid would peg basketballs at pigeons.” 
By the time the sun set, the boys were in stitches and had a fairly decent log cabin to show for a day’s work. Eddie was surprised that the idea of Steve leaving set a pit in his stomach.
“Hey, Steve? We should do this again,” Eddie proposed, and Steve was too quick to agree. 
“I have work tomorrow morning, but how about the afternoon?” 
Eddie hadn’t expected the guy to be as keen as he felt. 
“It’s a date,” Eddie agreed, before promptly wanting to shove his head through a miniature log cabin. A date? Really, Munson? 
A flicker of amusement crossed Steve’s face as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his too-tight jeans. Mind out of the gutter, Munson. You were doing so well. 
“You’re weird, you know that?” Steve remarked, running his hand through his trademark hair, and yeah, Eddie should’ve expected that. 
Now Steve was going to call him a Freak, the ‘King Steve’, he’d heard about would make an appearance and Eddie would be glad he dodged a bullet by cutting his crush off at the knees before it had the chance to grow legs. 
“Weird is good,” Steve corrected, seeming aware of Eddie’s inner turmoil. 
“One thing I’ve learnt about myself since high school is that I like weird.”
Oh, no. Eddie was so gone for Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. 
Read Part 2
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Bloodlust ∞ SPN 02x03
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ruporas · 2 years
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pre-trimax
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wangxianficrecs · 2 months
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Crimson leaves by barisan
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Crimson leaves
by barisan (@barisan-no)
T, 4k, Wangxian
Summary: There is a world where Wei Wuxian could not take another word of slander towards a mother whose smile he couldn’t even remember, a father whose embrace he couldn’t recall the warmth of. A world where he could not take another beating, another misplaced punishment, another thoughtless insult. Perhaps he grows tired of fooling himself into thinking that he has a place in Lotus Pier. That he belongs. That he is wanted. Loved. Kay's comments: Barisan gives Wei Wuxian the lesbian grandmothers he deserves!!! A wonderful little fix-it AU in which Wei Wuxian leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect pre-canon, because he feels as if he has no future there and meets Lan Wangji during a night-hunt, he also literal found family and all the love and support he deserves. This is a story for all the warm feelings; a story that wraps Wei Wuxian in a soft blanket and makes sure he's safe and comfortable. Wangxian are adorable too. Excerpt: “What do you mean you’re leaving, A-Xian?” “Forgive this one, Jiang-zongzhu.” He bows. “I have a dream of seeing the world the way my parents did.” He tries to keep the hurt from his voice. “It has become clear that I cannot learn about them here.” “But A-Xian,” Jiang Fengmian starts. “Please, do not refer to me so intimately.” He closes his eyes. A man who never dared correct his wife from spitting venom on his mother’s name and his father’s birth must lose the right to be called shushu. “I shall leave by morning.” He raises.
pov wei wuxian, canon divergence, not jiang family friendly, pre-canon, wei wuxian leaves the yunmeng jiang sect, rogue cultivator wei wuxian, families of choice, wei wuxian is a wen, getting together, wei wuxian has a fear of dogs, genius wei wuxian, falling in love, different first meeting, developing relationship
~*~
(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)
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thebest-medicine · 8 months
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Would you ever grace us with another soles tease?
well well welll — it’s funny you ask because I actually just recently met up with the wonderful @mister-ttt for a lil meet & greet & tickle and well, take a look
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palespawn · 2 days
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masquerade threads, perchance
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echos-girlfriend · 8 months
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Tech and the Rebel
Tech x F!reader
Master list
This is a little Drabble. And sort of a reintroduction of me getting back into writing.. if this breaks canon or any timeline idc. Lmao I’m writing a story because I want to!
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Tech was thankful his grappling hook didn’t snap.. but hitting the side of a rocky cliff edge wasn’t part of the plan. He had lost his helmet and goggles during the fall. When he finally came to there was a face looking down at him.
“Hello there.”
He was slightly startled and tried to reach for his blaster but he couldn’t really see anything
“Hey hey! It’s ok. I’m not gonna hurt you. You can’t see too well because there’s blood on your face..”
He still couldn’t say anything.. he couldn’t tell whether he was in shock or in too much pain. As this moment his genius brain seemed to fail him..
“Come on. I’ll help you..”
Whoever the person was, they lifted him up and placed his arm across their shoulders and carried him to their ship.
Once inside his face was cleaned, his wounds bandaged and his eyes blurry. He went to adjust his goggles.. but they weren’t there. He had forgotten they were lost during his fall
The person finally took of their snow coat and goggles.. it was a young lady with an odd emblem on her flight suit.. she told him her name.
“It’s nice to meet you..”
He finally spoke, still a little frazzled.
“It looks like you took a nasty fall there.. what’s your name?”
“My name is Tech.. I did fall.. out of a cart. My brothers and my sister were on it.”
“You were the ones in those carts. I saw the others run away towards a cliff side.”
“They were probably heading back to our ship” he tried to stand but failed.. “I need to get back to them. I don’t particularly trust any of them with driving it without my supervision. Well.. maybe Echo..”
She watched him talk and ramble on.. almost as if she wasn’t there. Like he was having a conversation with himself.
“Well.. they have probably already gone. I can take you back to my base. It’s small.. and there’s not much to it but it’ll be ok until you get better.”
Tech sighed.. he really didn’t have much a choice but to trust this person. He couldn’t walk or do anything for himself at the moment.
“Don’t worry.. I’m part of the Rebel Alliance.”
“Rebel Alliance?”
“Yeah.. we are trying to stop the empire! One small victory at a time.. sometimes anyways.”
He raised a brow at her confidence and bravery. She seems to think it could be easy to take the empire down. But he shook it off.
———
Some time later they had finally reached this mystery planet.
“This is Yavin 4. We’ve only got a small group of rebels and a few senators willing to support us but we will grow.. it’ll just take time.”
She helped Tech walk out of the ship and into the base.. he was placed on a small medical gurney.. not inside a medical room or even a medical bay.
“You act like you can’t see anything.. didn’t blood get in your eyes?”
“No. They did not. I am partially blind to put it simply. The goggles I had were lost during the fall.”
“Oh.. well that’s a bummer. Uh.. well we have other goggles here-“
“That’s all I need. I can simply recreate mine if you have to correct electronic parts”
She was a little taken back as he cut off her but she nodded.
“Yeah yeah. Just take what you need.”
Tech stopped himself before he started to ramble on..
“Thank you, I deeply appreciate you saving my life.”
“You’re welcome Tech..”
-_-_-_-
I KNOW I KNOW ITS SHORT! And also not.. my best work. But I really want to get back into writing and get those requests done too! I’m also glad to finally be back! THERE WILL BE A PART TWO TO THIS AS WELL DONT YOU WORRY
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lucagray813 · 6 days
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Solid Friendship
Rating: Gen
Word Count: 1,071
Main Characters: Wukong, Macaque
Relationships: Macaque & Wukong, Could be interpreted as Shadowpeach
Summary: The Monkey King has a peculiar friend that only he can see - it's about time he did something about that.
Additional Tags: First meeting, pre-canon
CW: None
Link to AO3 Version
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It was a well known fact that the Monkey King was a peculiar character and as beloved as he was to his subjects even they couldn't understand all his eccentricities. For example, for as long as anyone could remember he had always had a habit of striking up one sided conversations with the shadows.
Many dismissed this as just his incessant need to talk and paid it no mind. Although if asked he would insist he wasn't talking to the shadows he was talking to whoever resided within them. If he could, he would have proven his conversations were not entirely one sided.
But his friend was apparently very shy, only warping the shadows to communicate when no-one else was around to see it. Or perhaps they were a bit of a trickster, like himself, and took great delight in having everyone think he was mad. They did have a strange sense of humour but still they made him laugh like no-one else.
They weren't always with him but all he needed to do was call for them and they would be there in an instant. In fact, he didn't even need to call, only the faintest whisper was required.
One day he sat with the sun behind him so his shadow was cast on the tall rock in front of him as he mused over his mysterious friend. Despite how little he knew about them he loved them dearly - they were his loyalist companion, his most trustworthy confidant and critically were able to keep up on all of his adventures.
He called out to them and in a heartbeat his shadow had warped ever so slightly to have eyes and a mouth - one of his friend's favourite tricks.
He wasted no time, "I have a question, Shadow. Are you always like this?" He gestured to his curious shadow before waving a hand down his body, "Or do you have a body like this somewhere? Or, not exactly like mine but you get what I'm saying."
The shadow shook its head.
"No, you're not always like this or no, you don't have a body? Oh right, one question at a time! Do you have a body?"
Negative.
"Don't you want one?"
They tilted their head as if they didn't understand.
He tried to explain, "Well, think of all the things you'd be able to do if you had a body! Swinging through trees, eating fruit, feeling the summer sun, having your fur groomed - you can't do any of that right now, right?"
Negative.
"You're missing out on so much stuff hanging out in the shadows! Just think of the adventures we could go on if you were out here with me! Then you wouldn't have to get all upset when you can't help."
He thought they looked tempted but inevitably they shrugged as if to say "what can you do".
He stood abruptly and held out a hand, "Well obviously you just have to come out! C'mon, take my hand!"
They frowned and while they were clearly trying to do something in response to his impossible request, all they could do was make the shadows cast on his hands a little darker. They shook their head hopelessly but he wasn't deterred.
He placed a hand on his shadow, "Don't worry, I'll help! We just need to meet in the middle! You think solid thoughts and I'll do the opposite - and once I've got your hand I'll pull you out!"
Despite their doubtful expression they did seem to be concentrating hard on where his hand lay on the rock. He made sure to focus just as intently and after a moment he felt his hand sink ever so slightly and he laughed joyously, "We're doing it! C'mon, keep going! Grab my hand!"
While whatever touched his hand in response could scarcely be described as solid, it was with certainty that he firmly grasped it and pulled. Something was definitely emerging and it glowed a vivid violet. Victory no doubt at hand he squeezed his eyes shut and focused on pulling it with all of his might.
He was unprepared for his success to have him stumble backwards and tumble to the ground but any aches or pains were quickly forgotten as he looked up to see a bewildered monkey standing before him.
He jumped up, excitement coursing through him as he exclaimed, "You look like me!"
His friend seemed to still be trying to come to grips with the fact he now had a solid form, he stared fascinated at his hands as he clenched and unclenched them. He started moving various joints as if to check what they did and then he said, "I have a body...?"
His hands flew to his mouth, "I have a voice!"
He looked at the Monkey King with awe and wonder and it was an expression that he would never get tired of having directed at him. He grinned widely, "You sure do! You got a name to go with them?"
"A name...? I... No?"
He started to circle his friend, picking up his arms, pulling lightly at his tail and redirecting his head so he could look at him at all angles before he took a step back and proudly declared, "Your name is the Six Eared Macaque."
The Six Eared Macaque simply blinked at him for a moment before he brought his hands to the sides of his head and looked shocked to feel he indeed had six ears, "Why do I...?"
With confidence he responded, "All the better to hear me with, obviously!"
He didn't give the Six Eared Macaque any more time to process his new existence and happily grabbed his arm intent on showing him everything he could do now he had a body. Only to stop as the other stumbled over his own feet.
He laughed, "You're like a new born deer! C'mon! You just need practice! Here!"
He ducked under one of his arms and held him up, "Just one foot after the other! Yeah, that's it!"
His friend just couldn't seem to be able to believe what was happening, "I have a body..."
"I know! Oh, we are going to get into so much trouble together! Well, once you've figured out how to walk that is! Don't worry, I'll teach you everything you need to know! Ah, this is going to be great!"
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profoundbondfanfic · 7 months
Text
spanner in the works
spanner in the works by casdoms (moffwithhishead) Rating: Mature Word count: 5k
“You have to choose, Castiel. Us, or them.” Them. It was always going to be them.
In which we follow Castiel through everything. Everything! And yet, the most profound moments, the ones that shape him and change him irrevocably, are all squeezed together in a decade or so, and are all connected to a couple of humans.
I've been a destiel fan for over a decade and have been reading fanfics for almost as long. I thought that when it came to canon, pure canon, there were no more stories that could move me like when I was still a newbie in the fandom, especially after the finale that shall not be named. But this story felt so profound and tender, Castiel's feelings were so absolute, so all-encompassing, and yet so human, that something inside me lit up. As I was reading this story, I thought, "this! this is why I'm in this fandom. this is why I love Dean and Castiel. this is what I fell in love with." And I cried.
The author has done an incredible job of capturing what makes Dean and Castiel's relationship complex and deep (and like catnip to me, let's be honest here.) Somehow they've managed to squeeze eleven seasons into five thousand plus a handful of words, and nothing feels rushed, nothing feels drawn out, nothing feels like it should be expanded, and everything connects perfectly. It's perfect. I honestly have no words, it's perfect. This is what the writers of the show should have done. This is what the show should have been all along. It's a must-read for anyone in this fandom, especially Castiel fans, and especially anyone who loves reading about Castiel discovering what it means to feel, and what it means to be a human, to love a human, and to be loved by a human.
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metalhoops · 2 years
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Steve was going to die crouched behind a picnic table in an unfamiliar town. That’s how he saw it, anyway. 
He’d been looking for Robin. That’s where it all went wrong. She hadn’t shown up for work at the video store that Saturday morning. It wasn’t like her. The two had just started at their new job and it was a goddamn Saturday. Steve had been run off his feet all day. 
At the end of his shift, he couldn’t help but look for her. Since the incident with the Russians, both he and Robin had their days where they would disappear, but they’d always let the other know they were safe. 
Steve never used to be a worst-case-scenario kind of guy until everything with The Upside Down. All day he’d felt panic rising in his stomach. What if she’d been taken by demogorgons or kidnapped by secret government operatives?
He drove the BMW past all of Robin’s familiar haunts. She wasn’t at home or at Steve’s place. The school was closed, so she couldn’t be at band and she’d have asked him to drive her to the movies.
That’s when he started to check the places he didn’t want to find her. The Junkyard, Lover’s Lake, and the remains of the Hawkins lab.  She wasn’t there. It was then he recalled a conversation they’d had last Sunday. 
“All right, I’ve got some more evidence,” Robin had exclaimed days before, and Steve had known exactly what she was talking about. 
“Well don’t hold out on me, Rob,” Steve pushed, pulling out a notebook he should’ve been using to keep track of people’s late rental returns. 
Instead, it harboured two columns and a series of tallies, an ode to their Scoops Days Steve was secretly proud of thinking up. ‘Vicky likes boobies’, proclaimed one column while the other argued, ‘Vicky doesn’t like boobies’. He’d never said he was mature. Plus Steve got a kick out of watching Robin squirm. They’d been trying to work out if Vicky was a viable crush. Steve thought she was but so far the columns were an even split. 
“Last night I saw her car parked outside the fairgrounds in the next town over. Any other day of the week and I wouldn’t think it was weird, but Saturday night, it’s a spot, you know?” Steve didn’t know. 
“A spot?” He echoed. 
“Yeah, you know? Like how skull rock is ‘a spot’ but it’s only for certain kinds of people.” Steve’s brow pinched together and he nodded. 
He could imagine what Robin was implying. He’d added another tally to his favourite side and thought nothing more of it until he’d run out of places to look for Robin in Hawkins. It was a Saturday night. It was a long shot, but he’d take it.
Steve drove to the next town over and was surprised to see a smattering of cars at the fairground. There were a handful of boys in their twenties sitting on picnic benches around a boombox playing music Steve was vaguely familiar with. Then there were a couple of girls sipping beer and passing the bottle around. 
If you didn’t know, it’d seem like any other half-assed party but if you knew what to look for, you’d know you were in the right place. Steve didn’t know when he’d become the kind of person who knew what to look for. 
One of the guys had his hand tucked into the back pocket of another’s jeans. Then, of course, he saw his fair share of coloured hankies, carabineers and key rings. Sometimes, Steve actually listened when Robin talked to him about that kind of stuff. He figured it must get lonely, not having anyone to talk to about those things. He wanted to be a good friend even if he couldn’t relate to Robin. Steve liked girls. That was the beginning and end of it.  
He studied each of the partygoers' faces and felt his throat begin to constrict. Robin wasn’t there. Where the hell was she? This had been the last stone left unturned. Now what? 
Steve’s heartbeat was a kick drum, threatening to crack his ribs in two as it burst from his chest cavity. His vision began to tunnel and a ringing in his ears swelled to a crescendo as he crouched behind an abandoned picnic table.
What if something happened to her? How the hell was he meant to find her? 
Steve felt a hand on his shoulder. 
He looked up with a start, almost leaping out of his skin when he saw one of the boy’s faces inches from his. The space was dark, illuminated only by the moon and the intermittent flickering of car headlights.
“Hey. You’re okay. Just breathe with me for a second, alright?” The boy instructed.
His voice was vaguely familiar, but Steve couldn’t string together a coherent set of thoughts. His body was focused on not keeling over. He tried to copy the overdramatised rise and fall of the boy’s chest. 
“There you go,” the boy soothed as Steve’s breathing evened out. 
“Guessing, it’s your first time here. Don’t worry too much about it. The first time I went to a gay bar in Indy I had a panic attack in the bathroom.” Munson. The voice belonged to Eddie Munson, Steve’s brain supplied at last. 
They’d gone to high school together. Though Steve wasn’t sure if the guy had graduated. He vaguely recalled Eddie hating all jocks on principal and Steve had tried to give the boy a wide berth because of it. Turned out he was the type to hang out at gay bars. Okay. 
There was no way Eddie recognised Steve. He was being way too nice to him. Maybe Munson was a good guy. Steve hadn’t taken the time to find out back then. Steve hadn’t really been a good person. He was trying hard to be better.
“No one’s tried to push you into anything, right? Because that’s not what this place is about. I might not be able to kick anyone’s ass, but I know a guy who could,” Eddie commented, confirming Steve’s suspicions. He was a good guy. 
“No. I’m good... I’m looking for someone,” Steve breathed, hoping maybe Munson would’ve seen Robin. 
Then again, if Eddie hadn’t seen her, he’d be outing Robin, which Steve knew was a shitty thing to do. Eddie spoke before Steve had the chance to decide what he was going to say.
“You see him around?” Eddie asked, moving to sit beside Steve on the grass, scanning the crowd. 
Oh. Eddie assumed Steve was... That was fair. He was at ‘a spot’. He guessed he could work with that. 
“I think he stood me up,” Steve covered, looking for an excuse to get out of there. 
“His loss,” Eddie mused, placing a hand on Steve’s knee. Oh, no. Flirting. 
“I should get out of here,” Steve stuttered, jerking upwards.
“Right, shit. Sorry. Too strong,” Eddie spoke half to Steve, half to himself as he stood up and dusted grass from his jeans.  
“Don’t let me spook you. Seriously. You look like you need a night out. I can sit all the way over there and we can pretend this never happened,” Eddie proposed. 
Steve was dreading the ride back to Hawkins, knowing if he went home now, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Steve surprised himself by shaking his head. 
“No, I don’t want you to... just... don’t go. This isn’t something I do. I could use the company.” Steve was surprised at the words as they left his mouth. In what world did Steve Harrington want to hang out with Eddie Munson?
“Alright, no funny business, I promise. I’ve got some beer in a cooler. We could keep things all PG-13,” Eddie proposed, leading Steve to where the aforementioned cooler was stashed on a free picnic bench. 
“I��ve got to drive back home, but I could stay for a bit,” Steve remarked, sitting down beside Eddie’s cooler on the tabletop. 
He tried to focus on the distant music and the sound of passing cars. His thoughts kept returning to Robin. He dug his thumbnail into the table, scratching at the splintering wood as he tried to stop his mind from reeling. 
“Is your place far from here?” Eddie questioned, sitting beside Steve and lounging back on his elbows, glancing up at the night sky. 
“That wasn’t a preposition, by the way,” Eddie clarified quickly. 
“I was just trying to make conversation. Christ, man. I’m shit at this.”
“Shit at what?” Steve questioned absentmindedly, glad to have a distraction. 
Eddie grabbed a strand of hair and coyly hid a smile behind it. 
“You know. Talking to pretty guys.’ 
It wasn’t like no one had called Steve ‘pretty’ before. They had. But they’d always done it as an insult. He’d heard the word, ‘pretty boy’, spat through gritted teeth a handful of times, but no one had ever made it sound like a good thing, like something Steve wanted to be. 
It was strange. Steve hadn’t been lying when he said this wasn’t something he usually did. He wasn’t gay. He didn’t hang out with men in a way that walked the tightrope between platonic and flirtatious, but he’d gone on a lot of dates with girls, some that’d been far worse than the way his night was panning out. Steve was surprised at just how comfortable and familiar the setting felt.  
“I’m from Hawkins,” Steve admitted, feeling Eddie’s keen eyes on his profile. 
“Small world. Me too.” Everyone knew everyone in Hawkin’s. It’d only be a matter of time before Eddie placed him. Then what? He couldn’t imagine Eddie would want to hang out with him for long after that. 
“I came here with a buddy but I’m pretty sure he’s screwed off by now, you mind giving me a lift? Think we could both use the company.” 
Steve was always driving the kids around, that’s what he was good at, and it’d be a distraction. Steve nodded before he could think any better of it. 
“I can do that. You say the word,” Steve muttered and followed Eddie’s eyes to the stars. 
“Soon, give me a few minutes to enjoy the view”. 
That was the one good thing about small towns in the dead of night. The stars could really shine, painting their way across the sky, all milk and moonbeams. For once, Steve wasn’t thinking of the things lurking in the shadows. 
He could hardly make out the features of Eddie’s face, but he couldn’t help but think, if this was like the dates he’d been on with girls, this was the point where he’d kiss them. It’d be romantic. At heart, Steve had always been a romantic.
A car pulled up close to the two boys, bathing them in yellowed light. Eddie’s face turned to look at Steve. His eyes swelled wide with recognition. He’d expected Eddie to be shocked, this was the last place Steve would expect to find himself on an ordinary day. What he didn’t anticipate was Eddie jerking back as though Steve had physically hit him, his body tumbling backwards off the bench and onto the grassy lot. 
“Holy Hell, Harrington,” Eddie choked out, as he tried to pull himself back to his feet, staggering. Right. Steve should’ve known this wasn’t going to end well. He should just leave now. 
“I thought your voice sounded familiar. Christ. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. Here? Holy shit.” 
Steve stood, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to eyeball the best path to the Beamer, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but there. 
“I’m going to go...” Steve began but was cut off by a wild flailing of limbs and Eddie’s hand encircling his wrist. 
“Sorry. Shit. Sorry. Steve, Stevie. Wait. You surprised me.” Eddie placated, his eyes swollen wide as he looked at his fingers around Steve’s limb. It was as though his body had grabbed Steve of its own volition. 
Steve couldn’t help but notice the muffled conversations from the surrounding tables had quietened. 
“I get it if you don’t want to take me home, but I won’t tell anyone... you know. Cross my heart, dude.” 
Steve hadn’t been worried about that until now. His heart rate sped up again. He wasn’t queer but if rumour got around. His dad would kill him. Steve wasn’t sure that the statement was hyperbolic. Eddie must have seen something in Steve’s face, because his grip on his wrist tightened. 
“Promise I won’t. Look, somehow I’ve managed to collect your little flock of ducklings into my D&D club at school. They think you’re a good dude. That’s good enough for me.” 
Steve trusted Eddie. He shouldn’t. He told himself he was dumb for doing so, but his instincts won out. 
“Well, come on then, if you still want a ride,” Steve grumbled, pulling Eddie along with him to the BMW. 
The two talked on the ride back to Hawkins, but all of it was inconsequential. It was just what Steve needed. Eddie rambled about the kids, something he and Steve had in common. It was the only thing Steve knew they had in common besides the fact Eddie thought they were gay, or at least that they both liked men. 
It should’ve been awkward talking to Eddie, knowing the guy would’ve slept with him if given the chance, but surprisingly it wasn’t. Maybe that’s how Robin had felt about him at the beginning of their friendship. No. Don’t think about Robin. She was safe. She had to be. Steve would know if she wasn’t. 
“What happened to you, Steve?” He heard Eddie ask out of the blue and realised his fingers had been gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned bone white. 
Steve didn’t know how to answer the question in a way that wouldn’t spur on deeper probing, so he said, “Nothing”. The reply seemed to tell Eddie everything he needed to know. 
“I guess I grew up,” Steve supplied lamely.
“I wasn’t talking about how you don’t hang out with the same dicks from school. You stopped doing that before you graduated. Don’t ask me how I know that. Don’t make me say it. You’ve always been pretty, is all I’ll say. This is different. You never used to look so... haunted.” 
What was Steve supposed to say to that? He didn’t say anything, just turned the radio up and wondered how Eddie Munson, of all people, saw right through him. 
When they pulled up out front of the Munson’s trailer, Eddie paused, looking Steve over. 
“Hey, Harrington? You still all on your lonesome in that big old mansion of yours?” Steve rolled his eyes but nodded.
“Well, would you look at that? Me too. I mean, minus the mansion. Want to not be alone, together?” 
“I’ve got work in the morning,” Steve deflected as he found himself switching off the car and following Eddie up to the front door. 
“Won’t bother me. I sleep like the dead.” 
Steve was a horrible sleeper, not that it would matter. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping that night. Maybe in the morning if he couldn’t find Robin he should call Nancy. She knew everything about missing friends, about knowing something was wrong and yet feeling like you had no one to turn to. He wished he’d been that person for Nancy years before but he hadn’t and there was nothing he could do about that now. 
Steve found himself tucked into the corner of Eddie’s bed. The two boys had stripped off their jeans but kept their shirts on. He kept comparing the night to dates he’d had in the past. He kept thinking how easy it felt to do the same with a man. Steve liked women, he knew that, but he was beginning to entertain the idea he might be able to like men. Couple that crisis with his worries that Robin was somewhere alone and hurting and you had one messy knot of emotions Steve didn’t know how to unpick. 
“Night, Stevie,” Eddie muttered, as his hand made its way to rest on his inner thigh. His breath smelled of alcohol. 
“This okay?” He clarified. Yes, Eddie was a good guy and Steve wished he’d known that sooner. 
“Yeah,” Steve admitted because it was okay, much to his surprise.
When Eddie did eventually fall asleep, he rolled over, keeping one hand on Steve’s thigh and slinging the other over Steve’s chest, somehow ending face down in the crook of Steve’s neck. He smelled of beer and smoke. It was the longest night of Steve’s life. 
True to his word, Eddie remained sound asleep as Steve extracted himself from under him come morning. He paused to jot his number down on a notebook beside Eddie’s bed, surprising himself once again. He hadn’t gotten or wanted a second date with anyone in months. He wasn’t sure this was classified as a first date, but it had him wanting more of whatever it was. 
Steve parked outside Robin’s place, surprised to find her waiting for him in the driveway, unharmed and applying her makeup with the help of a compact mirror as though it were any other day. 
“You look like crap,” Robin noted as she slid into the passenger seat. 
Steve could cry. Steve would’ve cried if it hadn’t been for years worth of emotional repression. 
“You weren’t at work yesterday,” Steve said by way of explanation. 
“Yeah. I went to Indianapolis for my aunt’s birthday. I told you I was going last week.” 
Oh. Steve had forgotten. He nodded, then sniffed pathetically, pretty sure he was about to cry. Robin was fine. She’d never been in danger. She placed her hand over his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 
“Dingus, were you worried about me?” She teased, trying to lighten the mood. He shook his head, a blatant lie. 
“So worried you didn’t go on one of your crappy Saturday night dates or do you have another story to tell me about how you stuck out with a smoking hot babe... again.” That brought Steve to his second crisis. 
“Kind of.” Robin raised a brow.
“Kind of? Steve Harrington, since when are you coy about the people you date? Dude, when it comes to me you have no boundaries.” She was right. 
“I think I went on a date with a guy,” Steve admitted, not meeting Robin’s eye as she let out an inhuman squeak. 
“I was gone for one goddamn day and that’s the day you decide to date a guy?” She gasped, smacking his arm. 
In retrospect, it was pretty funny. Steve’s urge to cry was suddenly stifled as his body rocked with laughter. 
“I think I owe you one, actually,” Steve admitted, knowing he wasn’t going to hear the end of it. 
Read Part 2 Here
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himbosandhardwear · 5 months
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“Max, please. We're just worried. You don't have to come out, just let me know you're alive at least and I'll leave.”
His forehead is pressed against the door, waiting for a sign. The girl is stubborn, fearless, which is great usually but in this context it's pissing him off.
He thinks about trying for a more stern tone, a real dad voice, but before he decides yes or no, someone says, “Hey, asshole.”
Steve turns just in time to see a fist flying towards his face, enough time to drop back against the door and avoid taking one on the chin. Unfortunately, the attacker didn't expect Steve to dodge so he ends up flying forward, into Steve, who catches his full weight in momentum.
And that's when Max opens the door.
They fall backwards into the living room with twin grunts of pain. Steve gets a whiff of Irish Spring and weed while the guy spralls out on top of him.
“What the fuck is going on?” Max snarls. “Get up.”
Steve receives a nudge to the ribs, which is rude. None of this is his fault. He pushes the guy over and finds none other than Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson laying next to him.
“What the hell was that, dude?!” He shoves Munson's leg off where it was still laying across his own. “Are you on coke?”
“Fuck you!” He growls back while he attempts to fix his wild hair. “I'm not the one sniffing around Freshmen girls like a pathetic creep.”
“Sniffing around-” He looks up at Max, who looks down at him, eyebrows up to her hairline. They both burst out laughing.
Munson does not appreciate this. “You know what, fuck this. This is what I get for trying to be a decent person. Never doing that again.” He goes to get up but Steve grabs his jacket sleeve.
“Dude, she's a kid! You can't really think I would-”
“I'm not a kid!” Max ruins his speech by yelling. “If you think Lucas and I never-”
Steve has to let go of Munson to slap both hands over his ears, yelling ‘La la la’s to drown out whatever horrific shit she’s trying to say.
He looks up to check to see if she's done and finds her in her usual pose, arms crossed, scowl in place. He removes his hands but she immediately takes advantage by snapping, “Like you're such a saint. If you weren't fucking at my age I'll eat my hat.”
Steve blooms bright red, hoping Munson isn't looking. “Shut up! You're not wearing a hat.”
“Oh, yeah, Sherlock?” She snarks back.
Steve grins, so happy to be pissing her off.
She doesn't like that. “Why am I entertaining this? Get the fuck out of my house. Both of you.”
“Well excuse me for thinking you needed rescuing.” Munson turns to leave, Steve's still on the floor so he gets an eye full of a black clad ass, bandana hanging out of the left pocket.
“Like I would stoop so low,” Max says with a scoff, and it's Steve's turn to be offended.
Before he can get out more than a, ‘Hey!’ Munson's hand cuts through the air and motions, dramatically, to Steve's face.
“You're expecting me to believe you're immune to this?”
Steve blinks up at him, confused.
“Clearly you're not,” Max says, earning a dramatic gasp. “I don't date jocks,” she responds with finality, sneer well and truly in place. Her eyes cut back down to Steve. “And you can tell Lucas I said that. I don't need a babysitter.”
Steve, finally tired of being on the floor, stands up and brushes himself off. “Really, Max? I want you to think long and hard about that. Really picture his face if I actually told him that. You know the one. Sad but being so brave about it. You really want that?”
She's still trying for cold indifference, staring at the TV, but she doesn't answer either.
“Fine, I'll go. Just needed to check in, make sure you were still alive. It's not too late to go to the Sinclair’s for dinner,” he reminds her.
“Me and mom are doing Chinese.” She pushes Steve the rest of the way out the door and slams it in his face.
“Jesus. Ungrateful brat.” He tugs his jacket straight and turns to find Munson staring at him, sort of the way you would look at a weird bug you found in your bathroom. “What?”
He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Eventually he just walks away. Steve trips down the steps to follow him.
“Hey, wait!” He jogs in front and follows Munson's trajectory, skipping backwards across the street. “Seriously, I just wanna say thanks.”
That stops him. “Thanks? For what?”
“For looking out for her. She won't let anyone else do it. I'm glad she has someone making sure she's okay.” He watches Munson try to shrug it off, like what he did was nothing. “Seriously, it was really cool. For all you knew I was trying to perv on a teenager. I know my reputation doesn't help any.”
Munson snorts. “Yeah, forgive me for thinking you'd scraped the bottom of the barrel. I did think it was weird you weren't going for a Junior at least but.” He shrugs again.
He follows Munson to his trailer. For some reason he doesn't want the conversation to end.
“She's a huge pain in my ass but I love her like a sister. Which is why she can't stand me right now.”
Munson tilts his head, asking without asking. Steve huffs. It's hard to explain but he wants to talk to someone about it. Robin is his usual sounding board these days but it's hard to replace the solidity of guy friends.
Not that he wants to be friends with The Freak… But Dustin vouches for him so maybe he's not as bad as Steve remembers.
“Billy Hargrove was her stepbrother.”
Munson sucks a breath through his teeth. “Jesus H. Talk about trauma.”
“Yeah. We, uh,” he scratches at the back of his head, “we were there when it happened. She saw him die. He actually kinda helped save us at the end. So, she hated him but then redemption and death and change and now here we are. She's had it harder than the rest of us.”
Eddie stares at him, wide-eyed and sympathetic. “You were there? The fire?”
He sniffs. Eddie’s van has a key mark running the length of it. Echos of slurs passing easily from jock to jock bounce around Steve's skull.
“Yeah. I was working at Scoops. It was…crazy.” Wild understatement.
“Fuck, man. Yeah. I forgot about that.”
Steve winces. Of course. Of course Eddie Munson saw him in that stupid uniform.
“Not my proudest moment but I made a friend out of it, so…”
“Friend?” He asks, swinging himself up onto the porch and onto the dilapidated couch. Steve follows again.
“Yeah. Robin Buckley? She saved my ass like a hundred times that night.”
“Hmm.” He pulls a pack of Camels out, offers Steve one, which he gladly takes. “Henderson seems to think you guys are set to be married.”
“That little shithead. I've told him a hundred times it's not like that between us. Thanks,” he says when Eddie lights him up. “Don't know why he can't drop it.”
“She's not your type?” He blows smoke out of his nose like a dragon, which seems like such a nerdy thing to do, but he's weirdly pulling it off. Steve really needs to stop romanticizing these fucking dweebs, it's getting ridiculous. He used to be cool.
“I mean, she's definitely cute. Super smart, really funny. It's more like I'm not her type.”
“So, what, you stick it out, see if you grow on her?”
Steve chuckles lowly. “Fat chance of that.”
Eddie doesn't respond. When Steve glances over he finds Eddie looking thoughtful.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just- Nothing. Happy she has a good friend.”
They stare at each other. Steve's not good at these types of subtle communications but he's pretty sure Eddie figured it out from the little bit that Steve has shared. If the rumors about him are true he probably won't out Robin. Hopefully. She'll kill Steve stone dead if he does.
“No reason not to be,” he says. He hopes Eddie gets what he's saying. Wants to be a good ally or whatever.
A quirk of a smile dents his cheek, which Steve takes as a win.
They don't say anything for a bit, just finish smoking in the cold. It's unseasonably warm for Thanksgiving but still, enough to make your fingers and your nose feel numb after twenty minutes.
“I gotta ask, man. How'd you end up babysitting all these fucking kids? Henderson would have me believe you two are like brothers.”
Oh, fuck, that's too much. He really hopes he doesn't start crying like a fucking idiot loser.
“I mean, we kinda are? He grows on you.”
“Like a fungus.”
Steve snorts. “Yeah. It wasn't something I was looking for, half raising a bunch of asshole kids, it just sort of happened. You know Mike, Nancy's brother.” Eddie gives him a look that conveys ‘Unfortunately.’ “Yeah, so he was just kinda around, while we were dating, and then some shit went down that Dustin roped me into, helping him and the Party. And one thing led to another and now here I am. A mother of four. Five if you count Erica.”
“Erica?”
“Lucas’s sister. You'd remember if you ever met her. She makes Sourman look like Sparkle Princess.”
Eddie stares blankly. “What the fuck is a Sour Man?”
“You know,” Steve waves, “the bad guy from your nerd books. Lord of the Rings.”
A very real smile breaks across Eddie's face, almost a grin really. “You mean Sarumon.”
“Tomato, tomahto.” Steve ignores the warmth sliding through his stomach. It's probably gas. “You having dinner with your parents?”
He cracks a laugh. “Wouldn't that be something. No, man, it's just me and my uncle and we're not cooks. I think he's getting leftovers from some chick he works with. I don't know.”
“Oh.” Weirdly, that is comforting. Steve didn't have anywhere to be today either until Dustin invited him over. “You wanna come with me to the Henderson’s? Claudia makes a mean sweet potato casserole.”
He fidgets with his lighter, not meeting Steve's eyes. “With the marshmallows on top?”
“Duh.”
“And they wouldn't care if I came?”
“Are you kidding? Dude thinks you're the coolest thing since Han Solo.”
He likes that, smiling down at his feet. “Oh yeah? Well if I'm Han you're definitely Luke. Henderson thinks you're some kinda ninja.”
Aww, fuck, he really might cry. “That's cool.” He sniffs. “If I'm Luke then Robin is Leia, cause we're, like, bonded and stuff. But you guys can't date cause, uh…”
Eddie snorts. “We're not each other's type?”
Steve stares, pulse jumping for some reason. “Yeah.”
“That's fine. Kinda always thought Han and- Uh. Nevermind.” He slaps his knees and jumps up. “If you're sure about dinner at the H’s, let's do it. I wanna see the look on his face when we show up together.”
It takes Steve another second to stop staring but he does eventually snap out of it. “Right. It's gonna be amazing. You think he'll pass out?”
“I hope so. If not, what's it all for, you know?”
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a-little-unsteddie · 9 months
Text
Early Mornings
written for @steddiemicrofic
prompt: hole || word count: 404 || rating: t || cw: first meetings, pre-steddie, uhh. zombies?
The early hours in the mornings were usually quiet, a blissful reprieve from the usual hustle and bustle of the mid-morning rush. Steve loved working the opening, even if his days more often than not started at four in the morning. It was worth it to set up the displays and watch as the sky and, eventually the city, wake up.
Steve was sure that there was nothing more peaceful than his bakery at 5:37am, as he prepared the displays with whatever baked goods he was going to serve for the rest of the day. Steve hummed and swayed along to the quiet indie music playing through the bakery’s speakers, zoning out into the task. He was so focused on setting up the cups filled with donut holes that he didn’t notice someone standing at the door for several seconds.
It wasn’t until the person knocked frantically against the glass that Steve whipped around, prepared to be as bitchy as he needed to be to get the person to fuck off, because the bakery didn’t open for another 15 minutes. What greeted him was the sight of a tall, handsome man, looking desperate as he kept glancing behind him apprehensively.
“Let me in, please!” the strangers muffled voice came through the doors. Steve huffed and walked over to the door, glaring at him.
“We don’t open for another fifteen minutes,” he snapped, pointing at the hours that were printed on the door, right in front of where the man was standing.
“Please! I don’t know what’s wrong with them!” the stranger exclaimed, pulling harshly on the door as he looked over his shoulder in fear.
Steve rolled his eyes, figuring the man was being dramatic, and looked behind him. Something like dread started to fill his gut as he watched a horde of people stumbling towards the stranger. At first, he thought the man was being dramatic, but upon closer inspection, Steve noticed that one of the—people?—had a missing lower jaw.
Steve fumbled with the lock as he forced himself into motion, opening the door, allowing the stranger inside before slamming the door and locking it again.
“What the fuck?” Steve shivered, one of them had a hole through the center of their chest, and he was able to see right through it.
“Uh- I’m Eddie,” the man spoke, staring in horror as whatever was following him started slamming against the door.
“Uh.. Steve.”
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wangxianficrecs · 20 days
Text
heavenly questions by Lirazel
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heavenly questions
by Lirazel
T, WIP, Series, 15k, Wangxian
Summary: “Please tell me if I have understood correctly.” An inclination of his head invites her to continue. “My sons, who currently visit me only once a month, will now be allowed to see me only once every other month. And then, after a cycle of this, it will be only once per season. And then after that, I presume, I will see them only once a year.” Or not at all. That is no doubt the ultimate aim. Not at all. Madam Lan lives long enough to take back some agency--and her sons. Kay's comments: This series is not yet completed, but the first two stories are finished and they can be read as standalones. I really love it when Mama Lan is given a) a name b) the chance to run away with her children. Women looking out for women was awesome in this story and Wangxian's first meeting during the Sunshot Campaign was great too! They are immediately so gone for each other. Excerpt: When A-Zhan arrives right after breakfast, she is as composed as she ever is. He doesn’t run up the steps anymore, not like he used to, the sound of his little drumming feet waking joy in her heart. They had put a stop to that when he was four years old, and for almost three years now, he has walked carefully up the stairs in steps as measured as his uncle’s. He works so hard, her sweet boy, to maintain the control they demand of him. She misses the enthusiasm of his toddlerhood, but even now, when the doors open, his eyes light up, brighter than sunlight, warmer than flame. She sees him knot his little hands into fists, the only evidence of how hard he is working to keep himself from running to her as he walks steadily across the floor. But when he reaches her, he falls into her arms with the same heartrending sigh, and he rubs his face against the silk of her clothes like he did as a baby. She pulls him close, buries her face in the silk and scent of his hair, and holds him until the clearing of a throat makes her loosen her arms. She is never allowed to be alone with her children; there’s always someone watching them. Today it’s the sour-faced lady with the streaks of grey in her hair standing just inside the door—it’s always her these days. In times past, it was sometimes a short, round old lady whose face was always blank but whose eyes were sad when they looked at her. But someone besides Jing Yufei must have noticed, for they don’t let that woman chaperone anymore. Now it is always one of the women whose expressions make it clear they see her as a murderer, not a mother. It dampens the joy her sons bring her, but she has learned to ignore it.
pov alternating, canon divergence, madam lan lives, madam lan deserves better, madam lan backstory, lan wangji leaves the gusu lan sect, lan xichen leaves the gusu lan sext, parent-child relationship, parenthood, implied/referenced sexual assault, sunshot campaign, no golden core transfer, different first meeting, love at first sight, pre-lan wangji/wei wuxian
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(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)
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aftgficrec · 3 months
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Hellooooo, I can’t believe this is open!1!1!!1 First of all, I wanted to thank you all so much for all the work you do!
I wanted to ask for fics about the twinyards pretending to be each other. Mainly light funny ones if you find them but any will do. Thank you so much!!!
Hi there, anon! Most of the light funny ones can be found in our previous ask for this. -A
NB: in longer fics this could just be a quick switch, so read them with that in mind
previous recs:
the twins switch 1 here
‘the glow in our mouths’ and ‘The Morning AUs Chapter 52: The Parent Trap AU’ here
‘The one with Kevaaron’ here
‘Aftg Youtube AU’ here
‘Forming a Family; Forging a Future’ here
you may also like:
Neil mistakes Aaron for Andrew here
twinyard mistaken identity here
‘If I Knew You’ here
aaron minyard is a little bit cursed series by BlueJay26 [Rated G, 2 complete works, Updated June 2023, Locked]
Part 1: Jeremy Knox Solves the Transmutation Question: Baffles Centuries' Worth of Alchemists [1429 Words, Twinyards Appreciation Week 2022] [Merriam-Webster] metamorphosis| \ˌme-tə-ˈmȯr-fə-səs\ : a change of physical form, structure, or substance especially by supernatural means // the metamorphosis of a perfectly nice teak table into gold (by your baby cousin who won't stop getting cursed) Or, Nicky endures the twins' shenanigans in every possible universe. **Written for Twinyards Appreciation Week, prompt - metamorphosis**
Part 2: AITA? No. Am I cursed? Very probably. [505 Words] I impersonated my twin brother to play a trick on his boyfriend. AITA?
AFTG Bingo 2k18: The Twinyard Card by exactly13percent [Rated T, Collection, Complete, 2018] 
Chapter 2: Pretend College is difficult enough to navigate without Andrew playing games with Aaron's best friend.
Two of a Kind by gluupor [Rated T, 9957 Words, Complete, 2019]
When Aaron didn't get offered an exy scholarship while Andrew did, they came up with a plan. Andrew would play exy and Aaron would go to class. No one would ever know that they were actually two separate people. What could possibly go wrong?
After Aaron goes to Andrew’s Press conference by @iserenademefan [Tumblr, 2018]
Andrew and Aaron pretending to be eachother by @offbrandginger [Tumblr, 2017]
angstier twins switch:
‘Give Me Another Minute (to Lay Here in Your Echo)’ and ‘another turning point, a fork stuck in the road’ here
‘Unlucky Lies’ here 
‘aparecium’ here 
‘Brother’s Best-Friend’ here
‘white walls’ here
‘Deals With Devils’ here (updated)
Doctor, What Doctor by AceSirenSinger [Rated T, 4081 Words, Complete, 2023]
And then, unfortunately, Aaron has an idea. The idea itself is almost not worth having. It is deeply unethical. It is the opposite of ‘do no harm,’ and it is not even guaranteed to work. Aaron actually thinks that this idea might be worse for his license than performing illegal care on a probable criminal in a back alley in the dark. No, Aaron thinks, it is undeniably worse. “You’re a survivor,” Aaron repeats. “You should already be dead, but you’re not. You should pass out sometime in the next few minutes, but I’m guessing you won’t.” Aaron squares his shoulders, makes himself say the words. “If I give you an address, can you get there? •• An AU where Aaron is a doctor, Andrew is FBI, and Neil’s gone rogue against the mafia. Neil needs medical care, and it really should be Aaron performing it, right? Right??
tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: major character injury, tw: blood, tw: violence, tw: needles
Your love is my drug by babyprincess675 [Rated G, 24524 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]
Andrew Minyard’s life has been painfully mediocre for years since high school, nothing but guilt keeping him alive up until his twin brother invites him to his Christmas themed wedding in Alaska, where everything changes. Or Andrew gets invited to Aaron’s wedding after years of no contact and things go wrong.
tw: anxiety disorder, tw: suicide attempt, tw: overdose, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: violence, tw: alcohol
in a manner of speaking by likearecord [Rated T, 6335 Words, Complete, 2021]
In Andrew's defense, blind dates are terrible and almost all of Kevin's friends are even worse. Nine times out of ten, calling in a favor to get Aaron to switch and tank it for him would be fine. Unfortunately, Andrew found number ten.
Crossfire by RoseGold_En [Rated M, 18396 Words, Complete, 2018]
The year is 2073. Andrew and Aaron Minyard are twins born into a world with a strict one-child policy due to overpopulation. They take on a singular identity as "Adam Minyard", with only one of them allowed outside at a time. Siblings who are discovered are separated from their families and put into an eternal cryosleep. One day, Andrew disappears. Aaron and Nicky have to find him while maintaining the twins' cover. It's up to Aaron to find out who sold them out and why a bureau agent named "Neil" knows his brother's real name.
tw: vomit, tw: alcohol, tw: violence, tw: gun violence, tw: death, tw: choking, tw: blood, tw: involuntary outing, tw: fire, tw: needles
Secret twin royalty au by @professionalfangirl24601 [Tumblr, 2021]
When queen Tilda gave birth to male identical twins, she knew it could be a threat to her country's future stability. In order to avoid the brothers fighting for the throne, she decided to give one of them up. He would be raised by a maid and then imprisoned with an iron mask constantly covering his face. 
Backliner Andrew by @palmettofoxden [Tumblr, 2017]
Part 1: Andrew takes Aaron's place  Part 2: Andrew takes Aaron’s place - follow-up ideas  Part 3: Backliner Andrew 3/? 
aaron is fat and buff too!!! hc by @palmett-hoes [Tumblr, 2020]
they're deals on deals on deals. meta by @thespineoftherighteous [Tumblr, 2023]
Art
Minyards art by @lnmei
HAPPY TWINYARD DAY!!! art by @babaleza
Aaron and Andrew sand castle building art by @emry-stars-art
POV: You’re Riko and the Twinyards are burying your body. art by @/capt.christine on instagram
nerdy Minyards art by @/intradaya on instagram
Mindyards on defense art by @/kulartly on instagram
andrew & aaron sarcastic healing art by @oliviaillustrations
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