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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

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platonic soulmates eddie and nancy getting high and steve being Responsible; ty for the help @spectrum-spectre and @username-i-guess <3

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The door swings open a few seconds after Steve knocks hard. (Probably a little too hard given the time of night, but someone down the road from Eddie’s trailer is playing music that Steve would be able to sing along to if he knew the words, so he didn’t worry about it.)

Nancy’s hair is frizzy, and her cheeks are flushed, her eyes glassy and red. A smile is teasing at her lips. Steve’s stomach twists as he looks at her. She’s wearing a Slayer t-shirt, wrinkled and too big for her, falling to her knees and hiding whether or not she’s wearing shorts underneath.

“What the hell’s going on?” Steve asks sharply. It’s cold out, and it’s late, and the last thing he was expecting while staring at the ceiling was to hear Nancy’s voice over the phone, sluggishly telling him to come over to Eddie’s as soon as possible. (And if Nancy is telling him something so pressing, of course he’s going to listen.) But as she grins up at him, flushed and sleepy-looking, he wonders why the fuck she’d invite him over for this. Which is something he really never would have seen coming. Nancy and Eddie.

“We’re high,” she says, and he blinks.

“You’re…”

“He’s higher than me,” she says, and Steve’s never heard her voice like this, mumbly and slow and almost childish. Her lashes flutter as she blinks, gesturing with a lazy hand. “But ‘m also high. But you’re not.”

Confusion tangles with frustration in Steve’s chest, and she can see it on his face as he looks her up and down again, his eyes skimming deftly over her bare legs and Eddie’s fucking t-shirt and her tangled, frizzy hair.

“We didn’t fuck, Steve,” she says too loudly, looking at him like he’s being ridiculous, and he splutters out, “You can’t— You can’t blame me for thinking that!”

“Oh my god,” she says, exasperated, and he huffs.

“Why am I here? It’s like three in the morning.”

“Look,” she says, looking at the ground, holding a hand up. “I made brownies. We had one each, and then we shared two blunts, and then Eddie got hungry and forgot there’s pot in the brownies. And now he’s too high.”

“You made… pot brownies,” he says slowly, his mind reeling. Her expression changes, shifting into a terrifying combination of annoyance and frustration.

“Focus, Steve,” she says loudly. “He’s too high. I’m too high to help him.”

“Why’d you call me?”

“You’re, like— the mom!” she says, tossing a hand in his direction, gesturing aimlessly.

“Wha— Why?”

“You were a lifeguard.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“What, would rather I call Mike?” she asks, throwing a hand again.

“Why are you shit-talking your little brother?”

“Everyone else does.”

“That’s why you shouldn’t, he’s your brother.”

“Steve,” she almost shouts. “You’re not focussing.”

“Oh my god,” he says, exasperated, trying to push past her. “Where is he?”

“Sofa,” she says, pushing the door open further and moving aside so he can come in. “I can’t move him, he’s too heavy.”

Steve steps inside. The smell of weed hits him hard, and he holds back another Oh my god.

Eddie is laying on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling blankly, his eyes glazed over and unblinking. One of his arms is up against the back of the sofa and the other is hanging down, his fingertips brushing the ground.

“Eds,” Steve says, crouching by the sofa and nudging his shoulder. “You in there?”

Eddie stares at the ceiling, silent for a moment before, “…Steve?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“…Where are you?” Eddie asks lightly, his eyes searching the ceiling like he’s going to find Steve on it.

“Turn your head,” Steve says, begrudgingly amused as Eddie turns his head slowly to face the back of the sofa. “Other way, Eddie.”

Eddie’s bloodshot eyes widen when they find Steve, and Steve suppresses a smile as Eddie breathes, “Wow.”

“How you feel?” Steve asks softly.

“Goo-o-o-od,” Eddie slurs, grinning deliriously. “Nancy’s a baker.”

“Is she,” Steve says dryly.

“Mm. Nancy baker. Good ass baker. I’m a baker. I’m baked. Steve, I’m baked.” He giggles, his whole face lighting up, eyes squeezing shut as his cheeks squish up, the lines in his skin deepening beautifully.

Nancy is giggling behind Steve, and without turning to look at her, he calls, “Nancy, don’t you touch those brownies.”

There’s a moment of silence, except for Eddie’s giggling, and then she huffs and there’s a clatter of a knife on the counter.

“Mom,” she calls back, and he rolls his eyes.

“Steve,” Eddie stage-whispers. “Do you wanna bake?”

Steve blinks at him.

“No, Eddie,” he says calmly. “No, I don’t.”

“But it’s so fun-n-n…”

“I know, Eds, but someone’s gotta keep you in check.”

“‘S nice of you, Stevie.”

“Eddie!” Nancy calls from the kitchen, and Eddie beams at the sound of her voice, his eyes closing as he lifts his chin and says her name back. “Steve thought we fucked.”

“Nancy,” Steve snaps, looking at her with wide eyes as Eddie gasps dramatically.

“I would never,” Eddie says loudly. “Nancy Baker is a beautiful woman, but she is not my type, ‘m afraid.”

“Nancy Baker,” Steve repeats under his breath, turning back to Eddie as Nancy laughs in a way Steve’s never heard her laugh, open and loud and childish.

“Why?” Nancy says, her voice teasing. “Why am I not your type, Eds?”

“You be quiet,” he says to the ceiling, closing his eyes, his face red.

“Tell him!”

“No.”

“You can tell him!”

“I’m not gonna,” Eddie sings loudly.

Steve huffs.

“Nance, leave him alone,” he says. “Eddie, you don’t have to tell me anything.”

“Eddie,” Nancy sings back, ignoring Steve. “Tell him!”

“I am not telling Steve Harrington I’m gay, Nancy.”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and Nancy claps a hand over her mouth.

“You said it,” she says gleefully after a moment as Steve stares at Eddie, his stomach fluttering, because Eddie’s gay. Because he didn’t want to tell Steve.

“I didn’t tell Steve, I told you.”

“Steve is in the room, you dumbass.”

A few seconds pass before Eddie’s eyes widen at the ceiling, and his face flushes darker, and he looks at Steve, his eyes shining with a fear that Steve fucking hates.

“It’s okay,” Steve says quickly even though he’s still reeling. “It’s cool, Eddie, I don’t— I don’t have a problem with it.”

Eddie blinks at him.

“It’s okay,” Steve says again, nodding. “‘S fine.”

“I told you,” Nancy says from the kitchen.

Eddie rolls onto his side, hiding his face with his hair, groaning, and Steve takes a moment, lowering his head to the sofa cushion and exhaling shakily. He can feel Nancy watching him, but he can’t even bring himself to care.

“Okay,” he says after taking another deep breath. “Bedtime, Eds, come on.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Come on, Wayne’s gonna be here in a few hours,” Steve says. “He doesn’t wanna sleep in your bed.”

“…You know Wayne’s schedule?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “Of course.”

Eddie is quiet, still hiding from Steve.

“Eddie, get up."

“Can’t move,” Eddie mumbles into the sofa.

Steve sighs, rubbing his cheek as Nancy snickers.

“Come on,” he says, standing and wincing as his knees pop, tugging at Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie just groans loudly, and Steve sighs again. “I’m gonna help you, Eds, c’mere.”

He leans down and picks up Eddie’s arm, pulling him up so he’s standing, and he’s heavy on Steve as Steve wraps an arm around his waist. He’s soft.

Steve stumbles down the hall with Eddie, whose head falls forward as he groans, his hair hiding his face, and Steve calls to Nancy to not touch the brownies. He smiles when he hears her blow a raspberry at him.

“Oh no,” Eddie says when they sway together, and Steve stops before the doorway of his bedroom.

“You feel sick?”

Eddie stares wide-eyed at the floor, unblinking, unmoving.

“Eds?”

Eddie hums quietly, standing still before his head turns in Steve’s direction slowly, his eyes following behind after a moment.

“You gonna be sick?” Steve asks when he doesn’t say anything.

“…No.”

“You okay?”

Eddie exhales, his glassy eyes skimming over Steve’s face.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“Bed,” Steve says. “Come on.”

“‘M coming…” Eddie mumbles, and then he giggles. “Coming.”

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, his cheeks flushing.

He gets Eddie into his room and into bed, carefully lowering him so he doesn’t flop, and Eddie writhes, pushing his face into his pillow. The room is dark, lit up by the hall, and Steve flicks on a lamp.

“Where’s Nancy?” Eddie says, his voice muffled by his pillow. “Nancy. ‘S a pretty name. Nancy Wheeler Baker. Nancy. N’ncy…”

Steve gets up to call Nancy’s name down the hall, and she appears after a moment, after flicking off the lights in the living room.

She climbs onto the bed next to Eddie as Steve watches. Eddie wraps an arm around Nancy’s waist, hugging her and grinning as she looks down at him, poking his cheek.

“Edward…”

“Nancelot,” he slurs, and Steve scoffs, raising an eyebrow. “Pretty lady.”

“You are so high,” she says, emphasising every word with a poke to the tip of Eddie’s nose.

“You make good brownies,” he mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut as she keeps poking his nose. “Chef Nancelot.”

“It was a box mix,” Nancy giggles, leaning over his head as he snorts.

“But I could taste your lo-o-o-ove…”

She snorts, snickering and running her hand over his face.

“Are you guys set?” Steve asks, still watching from where he’s leaning against the doorframe. “Am I free?”

“Don’t go,” Nancy says, whining, reaching out and making grabby hands at him as Eddie groans. “Sleepover.”

He stares for a moment, hesitating, and then Eddie says his name, dragging it out dramatically, desperately.

“Stevie-e-e-e…”

Steve sighs, glancing at the dark window, and he gives in, kicking his shoes off as Nancy cheers, clapping happily. He climbs onto Eddie’s bed on his other side.

They’re all too close, Eddie laying partially on top of Nancy’s legs, and Steve leans against the wall next to Nancy, their shoulders almost touching.

Eddie rolls over, against Steve’s legs, and Steve looks at him. His eyes are closed, his lips curved into a happy smile, and Steve can’t help but reach down to the top of his head that’s at Steve’s waist. His hair is messy, tangled, and Steve pushes his fingers into it. Eddie hums.

“Didn’t know you guys were so close,” he says softly to Nancy.

“‘S my best friend,” she says lightly. “You know… your whole thing with Robin?”

“Platonic with a capital P,” Steve says softly.

“Mhmm. ‘S Eddie and me.”

“Soulmates?” Steve says softly. Nancy nods, smiling. “Never would’ve thought.”

She giggles quietly, scrunching her nose.

“Valedictorian and super-super senior.”

“Mhmm.”

“Eddie Munson,” she sings softly, reaching to play with the end of one of Eddie’s curls. Eddie is still smiling, head tilted up into Steve’s hand, and Steve can’t tell if he’s asleep or not.

“Eddie Munson,” Steve repeats like he’s agreeing.

“Never would’ve thought,” Nancy says quietly, almost pointedly, giving Steve a look.

“Thought what?”

Her gaze lowers to his hand in Eddie’s hair, eyebrows raised, and she reaches out to poke the back of it. (Nancy pokes a lot when she’s high, apparently.)

“I’m just…” Steve trails off, unable to find an excuse, and his cheeks flush.

“‘S cool,” she says lightly.

They’re quiet.

Steve listens to Eddie breathe, and as he scratches at his scalp gently, he thinks he doesn’t mind that Nancy called him as much as he did when he arrived.

“Steve,” Nancy says quietly after a while, after shifting and slumping against the wall. She’s resting her arm across Eddie’s chest.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers.

“…You’re too hard on yourself, you know that?”

He blinks, his eyes looking across the room at the mess of posters that are covering Eddie’s wall.

“Oh,” he says.

“You, like…” She sighs heavily. “You’re not… the same. But you keep all that guilt inside you. And you… act like you’re this whole new person, this… this nice guy. But you’re still a bully.”

His chest clenches, and he looks at her, his eyes burning.

“Because you’re so mean to yourself,” she adds after a moment. “I think… there’s a little part of King Steve still inside you, you… beat the shit out of him every day.” She’s mumbling, talking so softly that it’s almost like she’s talking to herself.

“But if you’re— if you’re gonna be Steve Steve, our Steve, the— the Steve that’s best friends with a dorky lesbian and a fourteen-year-old nerd, you gotta… forgive yourself. Let King Steve go.”

Steve blinks tears back, swallowing thickly, exhaling shakily, because she’s right. King Steve lives inside him, like he’s hiding in his ribcage, and Steve won’t leave him alone. He torments him, bullies him. Even though King Steve is just a kid, just a scared, lonely kid without a clue about what or who he is. Even though Steve knows King Steve was pretending the whole time. Lying. Wearing a false crown.

“…You know about Robin?” he asks weakly, his voice wobbly, and Nancy smiles a little bit.

“I know well.”

He looks over at her, and she looks up at him, seeing the confusion in his watery eyes.

“Like recognizes like,” she says softly.

Oh.

His lips twitch into a smile, and she grins.

“Who would’ve thought?” Steve murmurs.

Nancy smiles so brightly that her eyes squeeze shut, and she leans so her head is resting on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve tilts his head to rest on hers.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t love you like I was supposed to,” Nancy says after a while, her voice soft.

“You weren’t supposed to love me, Nance,” Steve says, closing his eyes. “You can’t… You can’t make yourself love someone just because you think you have to. It’s okay.”

“I wanted to,” she whispers.

“It’s okay,” he says again.

She’s quiet again, and he thinks she’s fallen asleep until she speaks again.

“I do love you,” she says quietly. “Just… platonically.”

“With a capital P,” Steve murmurs, and he can practically sense her smile.

“Yeah.”

“‘S cool, Nance,” he says softly. “I love you too.”

He drifts off as she falls asleep, feeling her head become heavier on his shoulder, and at some point they both shift in discomfort on the wall, sitting up straight and groaning quietly. They glance at each other in the dark lighting of the room, and Nancy shifts to lie down on the bed next to Eddie, wrapping her arm around him and sighing. Steve follows, moving slowly so Eddie can shift with him, still laying on top of him on the small mattress.

Steve falls asleep.

He wakes up to Eddie climbing on top of him, and he winces, cracking his eyes open to squint in the bright sunlight that’s shining through the room. Eddie’s legs wrap around his hips and he buries his face in Steve’s neck as he sighs, and Nancy shifts closer to Steve in her sleep.

Steve sets a hand across Eddie’s back, holding him, and Nancy finds Steve’s other arm before he can wrap it around Eddie, hugging it to herself and nuzzling into his shoulder. Steve smiles.

Eddie rubs his face into Steve’s neck again, taking a deep breath, and then he lifts his head, his body tightening and trembling for a moment.

He’s squinting when he looks down at Steve, brows furrowed adorably. He blinks blankly at Steve, whose smile widens.

“You still high?” Steve asks softly.

Eddie stares for a moment before his lips curve into a smile, and he shrugs.

“‘M on top of Steve Harrington in my bed,” he says, his voice rough. “Might be.”

Steve laughs lightly, closing his eyes. Eddie shifts to touch his face, poking his cheek and tracing the bridge of his nose and outlining his lips.

“Feels real,” Eddie murmurs.

“‘M real, Eds.”

“‘M gonna go back to sleep,” Eddie mumbles, sticking his face back in Steve’s neck. His breath is warm.

“Okay.”

#in the morning they find wayne eating a brownie and nancy panics but eddie just starts cackling #wayne assumed they were pot brownies bc he could smell the weed still and he just went for it #nancy is a lesbian in this #steve and jonny were comphet <3 #shes broken up w jonathan but theyre still friends ofc #anyway this was fun #got a lot more emo than i was expecting #steddie #steddie one shot #steddie ficlet #steddie blurb #platonic stancy #nancy and eddie #do they have a ship name (thats not rly a ship name bc its platonic obv but) idk #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington one shot #eddie munson one shot #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler one shot #random disclaimer ive never actually been high nor have i need around ppl that are high #i fully made all this up idk how weed works in any form #i once accidentally got a little high bc i didn't open the windows while doing an oil painting #and when i describe being dissociated/derealization and whatnot i get told it sounds like being high a lot so i just use that #this is diff from the anaesthesia bc i feel like that's more loopy than weed high #but who knows i could be talking out of my ass rn #anyway high eddie is fun #i think high steve might be fun too i just need a prompt 👀

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karugoround · 1 year

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Nagizuru throws a tantrum (SCP Foundation AU)

A silly thing that @draconicsparkle and I wrote together for fun. Nagizuru but he's an SCP. Please enjoy.

...

It had started out as a typical day. Well, typical for this place. The SCP Foundation’s bases tended to have bizarre occurances on a daily basis.

But still, it could be relatively routine at times. And it had been shaping up to be that kind of day again. The morning and afternoon had been fine, Hajime keeping SCP-4673 company. It wasn’t hard at all. It mostly consisted of him simply being in the same room as the entity. Though there were moments of physical contact. But not enough to be annoying.

But the evening rolled around, and the two shared the consensus of not wanting to make dinner themselves. So they elected to visit the staff cafeteria. They did this on their lazy nights. So there wasn’t too much panic when Nagizuru teleported them into the room.

“Thank you. Now, let’s see what they have. Want me to grab you something while you get a table?” Hajime asked as he stepped away from the white haired man.

The always present smile widened. “That is a suitable delegation of tasks. Very well. Return to my side as swiftly as you can.” Then he disappeared. Hajime turned to get in line, ignoring the startled shouts of some of the staff who clearly hadn’t expected the Apollyon class monster to appear near them. His sudden teleportation caused some overhead light bulbs to explode, slamming into some unfortunate people in line. The shards completely dodged Hajime, who seemed unaffected by the situation. "Keep that thing away from us, will you?" someone in line yelled. Hajime had to hold back the urge to punch the guy.

Putting that temporarily out of his mind, he accepted two plates of tonight’s dinner. Large bowls of fried rice. The scent was mouthwatering and he found himself excited. He hadn’t had this in several years.

So he quickly walked over to the table Nagizuru had chosen. It was a small one near the back, away from everyone else. Not unusual, as the SCP enjoyed having all of the brunette’s attention on him.

He placed the bowls down on the table with the silverware, pulling his seat in and grabbing a fork. “It smells really good. I might even get seconds.”

He scooped up some with his fork and lifted the steaming food to his mouth. But before he was able to take the bite, he noticed the man across from him. His hair was writhing, as if it was alive. And he was glaring at the bowl in front of him. Hajime sighed and put the fork back down. “And what is the matter?”

Nagizuru glanced up at him before returning to stare at the food. “Rice… and peas.”

Hearing the displeased tone, Hajime groaned. “Again with this? Grow up and just eat them. It’s not like you are allergic or anything.”

Nagizuru’s smile was clearly more of a grimace now. “I refuse. You shouldn’t force yourself to eat repulsive food groups such as these. I shall change it for us.”

The SCP reached for the food, fingertips making contact with it. But Hajime grabbed his bowl and pulled it closer to himself. “Get off! This is mine. And I’m gonna enjoy it. Now you eat yours!”

Nagizuru let out a growl, accompanied by the sound of crackling. The pale limbs began to elongate and the entity’s form also started increasing in scale. In addition, the white hair grew longer and longer.

Several members of the foundation screamed or shouted in fear and the sound of tables and chairs being pushed away or falling were audible. Most of the people were terrified of the creature in front of them and they ran out of the room.

But not Hajime. He didn’t even bat an eye, just returning his attention to his food and picking up the fork. “Throwing a tantrum because you don’t want to eat certain things? How mature.” Hajime started eating his food, as if nothing was amiss. “Return to normal. You are surely breaking things,” he said with his mouth full of peas.

“I will not,” the SCP stated in a voice that sounded layered by dozens of others. He rearranged himself so that his body was more comfortable with the increasing size.

But the creature’s sudden growth pushed over the table they had been sitting at, both bowls of the fried rice falling and splattering onto the floor.

The sight of the food on the ground made Hajime’s patience snap. “Fine. I won’t push it anymore.” But before Nagizuru could feel any sort of victory, he turned around and began walking back to the kitchen area. “However, I intend to enjoy this meal. So I shall get another portion and go find somewhere else to eat it. Away from you so I won't have to put up with your whining.”

“What?” the distorted voice asked in a panicked tone.

Hajime raised his eyebrows with a smirk. “Until you behave and fix everything you broke, I won't talk to you. AND you will need to eat the fried rice.”

He felt something clutch onto his midsection, pulling him back towards the sea of white hair. He could barely see a giant red eye peering down at him, looking far more resigned than defiant. “Okay… I’ll fix everything. And I’ll try it. So don’t leave me. Please?”

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. “Deal.” He looked back to see stunned faces staring at them, peeking through the window door. He shrugged and said:

He poked the face hidden under the white hair. “And stubborn. Now go back to how you normally are, okay? Can you do that for me?” He made sure to ask these questions in a soft tone, knowing that Nagizuru was not able to resist requests when he talked like this.

“Alright,” the SCP said, body shrinking back to how he usually appeared. Once fully human-like again, he embraced the brunette. “I’ll do anything for you, Hajime. Even… eat rice and peas.”

Hajime pet the head in a comforting way. “Good. That’s what I like to hear. Now let’s fix this room back up.”

A whooshing sound occured and all the tables, chairs, and spilled food was back in perfect condition. Hajime rewarded this with a hug of his own. “Thank you.” He separated and pointed to the chair. “Now, let’s have a less chaotic meal. No more shenanigans.”

“No more shenanigans". Nagizuru repeated.

Hajime sat down and picked up his fork, the entity copying him seconds after. Before taking his first bite, he looked at Hajime's eyes with his usual smile, now looking amused.

“… for now.”

#nagizuru #nagizuru au #nagizuru scp #lighthouse au #the au of the au lmao #anyway this was fun #nagito komaeda #scp foundation #danganronpa au #kamukura!nagito #servant!hajime

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