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steddiehyperfixation · 2 months

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so you don't get lost (steddie ficlet)

written for @steddielovemonth day 17 rating: T cw: alcohol tags: first kiss, clubbing, college au, platonic stobin prompt: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost

“She’s totally into me, right?” Robin asks as they wait for their drinks at the bar, her smile a mile wide, and it’s been a minute since Steve’s seen her smile like that.

“Yeah, totally,” Steve agrees. The girl Robin’s been talking to all night is drifting back over to them even as they speak, the two of them like magnets since they first traded smiles on the dance floor earlier that night.

Robin glances back at her and bites back a wider grin. She bounces on her tippy toes and whispers to Steve, “If I make out with her it’s not gonna make you feel awkward, is it?”

Steve shakes his head. “Go ahead,” he encourages.

It had been a group effort to get Robin out tonight. Her university friends had enlisted Steve to help drag her out of the mopey funk she’d been in since getting broken up with two weeks ago, and it had taken an hour of Steve hyping her up while she kept crying off her attempts to do her makeup before she finally managed to make it to the club. He’s just glad it had been worth it.

“I don’t even know if I remember how to do this,” Robin mutters, a little nervously, as she and Steve grab their drinks and rejoin her friends on the dance floor. But it turns out, she has nothing to worry about. The two girls resume their orbit around each other, and the second the next beat drops and the lights strobe, the other girl finally pulls Robin into a heated kiss. Steve watches this, and he smiles fondly. She deserves it. He’s happy for her.

And he’s totally not jealous. Not necessarily of Robin, obviously, or the girl she’s kissing, but simply of the fact that they’ve so easily found a hot drunk stranger to make out with at the club and he…hasn’t. He can’t even remember the last time he’s had a decent kiss, much less scored at a club, though not for not wanting to.

Steve finds himself glancing at Robin’s friend Eddie, the tatted-up metalhead Steve’s felt a pull towards since the first time they’d met. He thinks about kissing him every time they’re out together, and maybe there was a time when Steve would’ve just gone for it, a time before he’d taken a few too many hits to the ego and developed doubts and insecurities, but now the thought just makes him nervous. Eddie makes him nervous.

He feels that nervousness now as Eddie catches him staring and he shakes those lovely dark curls out of his face and smiles at him. It bubbles in his stomach, flutters in his chest. Steve downs the rest of his drink and looks away. The alcohol floods heat through his veins and blurs his vision, but the ever-present thrum of anxiety just from being in Eddie’s proximity still isn’t dulled. He bobs numbly to the music, avoiding looking at anybody at all now, only staring at the floor or the wall or some super fascinating point just above everyone’s heads, sure he looks like an absolute freak.

It goes beyond just wanting to kiss Eddie; Steve’s not stupid, he knows the only explanation for this sheer amount of nervousness he feels around him is that he’s got an actual, proper crush. Because not only is Eddie super fucking hot, he’s also sweet. Steve is an outsider in this group and he knows it, the college dropout who only tags along because Robin insists on it, but Eddie never makes him feel like that. It’s always Eddie who makes sure he’s included in conversations, always Eddie who makes a point to loop Steve into the context of inside jokes and stories whenever Robin is too distracted to. Steve craves those interactions, gets a thrill every time Eddie so much as speaks to him. So he doesn’t only want to kiss him, he also just wants Eddie to like him, wants him to see him as a friend at the very least. But it’s not like they’ve ever even hung out outside of a group setting, and sometimes Steve fears Eddie’s just being nice and he doesn’t actually see him as anything at all.

Steve’s drifted so far into his own head he doesn’t realize his group is on the move, pushing deeper into the dance floor and leaving him behind.

“Steve!” Eddie’s voice calls out to him and snaps him out of it. Everyone else has been taken by the crowd, but Eddie hangs back, reaching his hand out to Steve.

Steve takes it, swallowing down the way his heart pounds as Eddie’s fingers curl around his hand. Eddie pulls him through the throng of jostling, sweaty bodies, and even though he maintains a tight grip on Steve’s hand, he still keeps looking back at him like he’s making extra sure Steve doesn’t get lost. Warmth blooms in Steve’s chest. Maybe he’s just drunk, maybe he’s just delusional, but all of the sudden he feels so very very cared for.

“Thanks,” Steve says, nearly shouting to be heard over the music.

“‘Course.” Eddie smiles as he turns around to face him. They’ve caught up to their friends now, but he’s still holding Steve’s hand. “I’d never just leave you stranded.”

Of course he wouldn’t. He never has before. Steve just smiles back and squeezes Eddie’s hand.

They’ve only just let go of each other when Robin and her girl, still kissing clumsily and staggering about the dance floor, stumble straight into Steve and knock him off balance. “Woah!” Eddie reaches for him again instantly, looping an arm around Steve’s waist to keep him from toppling over or careening into the crowd.

“Ah! Sorry!” Robin giggles before she’s whisked away again.

Eddie laughs. “Good for her, right?”

“Yeah, good for her,” Steve says, watching his best friend spin out of sight, and when he looks back he startles at how close he and Eddie are, suddenly very aware of Eddie’s arm around his waist and his hands on Eddie’s chest.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, his grip on Steve tightening like he means to steady him.

“Yeah, thanks again.” Steve regains his footing, but he doesn’t pull away. There’s something there, he thinks, in the way Eddie’s always reaching out to him so he doesn’t get lost, literally and figuratively, in crowds and conversations. It could just be friendly, it could just be nothing, but for the first time, Steve lets himself hope. He even thinks about leaning in right now, but then he thinks about it too much, and he doesn’t.

Instead, there’s a weird moment where they’re both just staring at each other. Eddie’s got this confused little smile on his face like he’s waiting to see what Steve will do, and when Steve doesn’t do anything, Eddie’s smile abruptly becomes more playful as if he’s trying to break the tension, and he starts theatrically swaying them to the music, even though it is most definitely not the swaying sort of beat. Steve laughs, his racing heart making it come out giddy and giggly, especially when Eddie drops his waist to grab his hand and twirl him around.

Eddie pulls him in close again then, and this time Steve doesn’t think at all. In fact, it’s unclear which one of them leans in first; all Steve knows is that their lips finally, finally meet in the middle and he finally, finally gets to tangle his hands in Eddie’s hair, and it’s sweet and it’s hungry and it’s absolutely perfect. Steve holds onto Eddie and he gets lost in him.

When Steve meets back up with Robin outside after the club closes, they exchange a celebratory, congratulatory high five, the both of them with matching kiss-swollen lips and dates set for next week.

#loosely based on real events. except steve actually gets to kiss his crush and i didn't :/#also i wrote this like two weeks ago while i was delirious with a fever so. apologies if it doesn't actually make sense lmao #steddielovemonth #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stranger things #ficlet #mine

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ghost-proofbaby · 10 months

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Can I request Back to December with Eddie?! and if you could make it kind of angsty 🫣🥹

back to december (eddie's version)

warnings: angsty. very, very angsty. hurt/no comfort.

wc: 2.6k+

a/n: fuck it we ball. i have nothing to say about this one. if it's trash, that's between me and god.

Love was never something that came easily to Eddie.

Maybe it was due to his upbringing, maybe he was another victim of circumstance, but love and him had always had a complicated relationship. It had left him scorned usually, a long line of failed situationships that trail behind him like ghosts of his pasts. Times he let bury themselves, relationships he’d get involved in knowing he’d never achieve the kind of love he’d seen in books and movies. Other people would talk about their small town romances, and he would only think of all the one night stands he’d subjected himself in which tore off a piece of himself every time he’d depart. He was the type of person to be used, to be drained of what fun the other participant could suck him dry of and then discarded for the next one. He wasn’t relationship material – he wasn’t love material.

Until you. And how unexpected you had been.

You, who was suddenly sitting in front of him in a coffee shop, hunched over your laptop and no doubt working on finishing up classwork for that degree you’d always talked about getting with him. You, who had been the exact opposite of someone Eddie would have ever anticipated falling for. You, who had never looked at him as something to use and to discard, but to have and to hold. You, the one (and possibly only) exception to everything he thought he knew.

You’re just as stunning as you had been on late summer afternoons in the passenger seat of his van. Same messy hair, same glowing eyes, same jestering lilt to your lips that seemed ever present even in the most serious of situations. Even with brows furrowed and new stress lines in your forehead, a slight pucker of your lips at whatever was on the screen in front of you and accentuated eyebags that hadn’t been there in your past life but now exist in the here and now, most likely a symptom of the long hours you’d always been willing to put in for the things you wanted – you still took his breath away, even now.

The first time you’d ever spoken to Eddie, he had considered it a cruel joke. You were beautiful, someone who entered the room and everyone just knew you were the smartest person there. Teachers loved you, others at the very least tolerated you if not admired you. It prodded at every insecurity he’d already harbored. All his fears of not being good enough, of being judged for his repeating years, of forever being doomed to be worn as a mark of shame rather than a badge of pride had been put in front of him with a pretty bow on top. You were something to show off. You were something good. But those wide eyes that had slowly pulled him in, had broken down all his defenses. He’d never stood a chance.

“Eddie?”

It’s not your voice, but that of the barista sitting down his order on the pickup counter. But his name still tears you from your concentration, and when you pale at the sight of him, he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he had been staring.

They have to call out his name a second time before he moves to grab the coffee, turning his back on you just as he had all those ages ago. His fight or flight kicks in; he doesn’t know whether it would be better to leave it as it is and hurry out of this coffeeshop with his tail between his legs, or if for once in his life, it was worth leaning into the discomfort. Instead of running from that crackling in his chest and all the hurt flooding him the same as that final time he’d seen you, maybe he should take a deep breath and dive right in.

Would you even recognize him as he recognized you? Would your soul see his as if for the first time all over again, and sadly smile with a whisper of, oh. There you are, again?

Or would you pretend to be strangers again? Would you pretend like all the history had faded to smoke and he was just some guy you’d bumped into at a cafe? Would you give him the honor of wiping his slate clean and just starting over, as if he’d never hurt you?

He had been an idiot when it came to you. A loser who had been handed a gift on a silver platter, and instead of cherishing it until the end of time, he’d ruined it. Ruined you.

The decision is made long before his palm wraps around the overly warm cup, and his feet carry him to your table before doubt would wrap its chords around his throat.

His chest flutters just like it had in the autumn when he’d first realized that how he felt for you was different. As the leaves of Hawkins had changed color, so had his feelings, turning their own brilliant and vibrant shades between him draping his leather jacket across your shoulders and the gentle kisses you’d wake him with before the sun even rose. Quiet and private moments between just the two of you that Hawkins had never bore witness to. Hazy afternoons spent under the guise of tutoring him in subjects like math and science bled into dinner dates at Benny’s, sharing milkshakes and him teaching you how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue.

He had loved you. He still loves you. And he’d been a fool, because it had never occurred to him that during those Autumnal months, more than just the leaves or just him had been falling.

Even the warmth of all your love that he had been blind to wasn’t enough to stave off the chill that had crept in by that December. Winter was cruel. You’d both learned that the hard way. One bad argument, one stormy night, and it had all fallen apart. He’d lost you — he’d lost that ray of sunshine in his life, the one thing that should have kept him warm through icey December nights. All over something that had started off over a disagreement of future plans and unraveled into an argument over differences.

His voice cracks as he stands before you, eyes wide as he says, “Hey.”

When you look back up at him this way, it’s hard to believe that he never saw it. That love, swirling with endless depth. That quiet but firm matter of fact that you loved him, and a piece of you if not all of you always would, even after he’d shattered your heart on the ground carelessly.

“Hi,” your voice is meek. Even after nearly a year, all it took was him being here, and you felt the person you’d worked so hard to build from scratch fall right apart, exposing all your old wounds and still-sensitive nerves. Before Eddie, you’d always seemed so sure of yourself.

He should walk away. He should leave you be. He should just live with what he’d done, the damage he’d inflicted, and let you continue to heal.

He can’t. “Is this seat taken?”

You hesitate as you stare at the chair that his hand lands on the back of, and he doesn’t blame you. He isn’t sure he’d let him take that seat either.

“No,” you answer honestly, clearly against your better judgment, “It’s… open.”

There were a million other seats he could have taken. A plethora of empty tables he could have chosen over your currently occupied one. Hell, he could have even just walked out of there and let your soul rest. But for the life of him, he couldn’t. Because you’re here, and you’re only staring at him rather than cursing him with every foul name under the sun like he deserves, and all of the rotten parts inside of him are clawing out for your kindness. Like a child desperate for comfort, like a wounded animal taking shelter.

He takes that seat wordlessly, and watches you slowly shift your laptop out from in between you two.

You clear your throat first, offering that first olive branch, “How’ve you been?”

He almost wants to wave your question off. He’s been giving a rare opportunity and almost can’t stomach the thought of wasting it on small talk.

“Good,” he forces the answer out, “We, uh- we got picked up as openers for a tour this summer.”

We as in the band. The thing he’d put above you. He just might regret that decision for the rest of his days.

You’d had a college plan. He’d had a drop out plan. But you had still tried to fight tooth and nail for him; you'd given up a fraction of your reputation for him, a side effect of being associated with the freak, and you hadn’t even blinked an eye. It had been the bare minimum, at least in your eyes, but to him it had been a sign that he was nothing but poison for you. It went further than just the fact that you had your shit together and he didn’t. Once the first weak spot had his attention, all the fragile delicacies that your relationship hung on by did. He stopped ‘studying’ with you at Benny’s, choosing Hellfire Club over you. He always forgot to congratulate you on your accomplishments, whereas you never missed a beat in recognizing his. It was always him taking, taking, taking. He had watched you give, endlessly, over and over, and convinced himself that one day, he’d bleed you dry. He convinced yourself it was better to break your heart than to drain you for all that you were worth. He’d never considered your perspective of it all.

“That’s amazing,” you should be scathing, hurt and angry to have to hear about how the very thing he’d broken your heart over was working out for him. But you aren’t, and you both know you never could be; you were happy for him and still cheering him on, even after all the damage done between you two, “What’s the band you’re opening for?”

Stiff, cool small talk continues. Talk of this band that had so graciously taken Corroded Coffin under their wing. Discussions of the weather. Comments on the college you’d been accepted into, and confirmation you had been working on class work when he’d found you. You had a full ride. He tries to remember all the times you’d discussed your specific accomplishments that would award that, if you’d ever bragged about your GPA to him or any of the extracurricular activities you’d taken part in for a shiny bit on your applications. But he can’t recall them; maybe he had just gotten too jealous at the time, or maybe you’d been aware of the hurt it would have caused him and avoided the bragging rights. (It was the latter. God, he knows it’s the latter, but it hurts to admit it).

It’s painful. So, so utterly and terribly uncomfortable. He once knew everything about you. The mundane things like your favorite song to belt out with the windows down, and the remarkable things like how it felt to feel your heartbeat pressed to his while his bedroom window was open on frigid November nights. He’ll never know that feeling again. He’ll never feel your breath sync with his, and he’ll never get the chance to not take for granted that serenity you’d always offered with open palms in his direction.

When the conversation dwindles and the coffee goes lukewarm, he knows it has to end. He’d replayed this scenario a million times — rehearsed his apologies and tormented himself with endings where you took him back. You’d forget the past and drop your guard as you welcomed him back into your arms. The night he should have vocalized his fears of dragging you down with him but instead claimed you were holding him back would be erased. His pride would become a caged animal who had spent enough time roaming free and wreaking havoc on the best things in his life. Everything would go back to the way it was. Everything would be okay again. In his mind, that’s how this should have gone.

It didn’t. But he could still offer at least one piece of his dress rehearsals to you, leave at least one bandage behind for the trouble he’s caused.

“I’m sorry, you know,” he stumbles out, and it’s not nearly as smooth as all the words he’d repeated to the mirror, “I’m sorry for the way things ended.”

You’d loved him. Really, really loved him. And he’d taken it for granted, he had used it and discarded it for all it had been worth.

He’d always known you were smart. You wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, even if that love still burrowed in the channel of your heart frozen in time, forever cursed to a loop of the December night he’d chosen to chew you up and spit you back out.

“Don’t be,” you smile sadly, and he sees the glimpse of the you that still loves him, that still wants the best for him. The piece of you that will always treat him better than he deserves, “We got everything we wanted, right? It all worked out in the end.”

“Right.”

His tongue is dry, almost swollen, heavy in his throat.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that no, he didn’t get everything he wanted. None of it worked out in the end. Because at the end of the day, he finds that the only thing he really wants is you, and he will never have you again. You had treated him so well, had been so damn good to and for him, and he hadn’t known what to do with himself. Some foolish part of him still believes that with the knowledge he finally holds now, he could treat you better — treat you right. But he can’t. He’ll never even get the chance. He’ll never even deserve the chance.

An exchange of goodbyes. A final glance. An acceptance that even if he locked away his pride now, it had already dug its claws into you, and the scars would always remain.

He leaves more unspoken words in that coffee shop, at that table with you and your cold latte, than he can count. You both promise to reach out to each other more often, but you both know it won’t happen.

He doesn’t sleep that night. He never does these days.

Repentance churns his chest, a familiar friend, and demands to be felt until he can see the sun begin to rise through the curtains of his hotel room. He swears he feels the ghost of gentle lips kissing his cheeks, whispering to come to bed, but it might just be the wind.

There may only be a small piece of you frozen to that night and all your time together, and you may still have a possibility of thawing from the cold that he left you out in, but there is no such luxury for Eddie. He’ll always be there. Repeating words he doesn’t mean, watching tears well in your eyes as he destroys everything he’d ever wished for, setting aflame the one thing he could have done right in his life.

He writes another song about it, ignores the tear stains on the paper and adds it to the collection of all the ones that came before it.

Across the city, your pillow matches the sheet of lyrics. Tears shed that Eddie would never be able to recognize through his own smoke and ash.

Love was never something that came easily to Eddie. Regret, on the other hand, always would — always, for as long as you exist somewhere out there, frozen in December.

“And I think about summer, all the beautiful times when I watched you laughing from the passenger side – and realized I loved you in the fall.”

#speak now (ghost's version)#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #the power it took to resist adding any more lore than what i did #this is one of my top songs on the album fuck #no one understands how badly i wanted to add a flashback to those summer times and then the mention of fall #that's one of those lines that makes my heart ache when i hear it every single time #you know what? loosely based on real events #being told i was 'too good' and 'too smart' for someone and that's why they broke my heart really has happened to me #like cool i don't really understand but cool #ANYWAYSSSS

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whatjaswatched · 3 months

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The Edge of Love, 2008 (dir. John Maybury)

I loved (?) this film.

My heart hurt for Vera. I cannot imagine what it feels like to be so lonely and vulnerable and insecure to feel the need to seek out a familiar time and place she visited as a child. I hurt for her because when she revisited that place, reality sunk in & she woke tf up.

No, all of my anger is directed to the fucking spineless, human embodiment of soggy 1-ply squares of toilet paper that is Dylan. His desperate need to be the centre of everyone’s universe, with no regard for the consequences.

Our award winning King, Cillian Murphy puts his entire self into everything I’ve ever seen him in and he was genuinely haunting in the second half of this film. Such a difference to the playful little “hay is for horses” we got early on.

I will never understand how people act out entire lives and stories with their whole souls. But I respect it and I appreciate it so much.

My overall feeling is that the whole film hurt my heart and I will hate Dylan until I die or forget about this story.

And my review on the reviews for this film are that they suck. “All over the place” - yes, it’s a war film. The characters go through a fuck tonne. Keep up, 2008.

(more on Keira Knightley and Sienna Miller in another post because I have thoughts)

#cillian murphy #movie recs #movie recommendations #film recommendations #keira knightley #sienna miller #john maybury #matthew rhys #sharman macdonald #bbc film #Cillian Murphy’s filmography #join me on my journey through his catalogue #because holy fuck #the man can act #loosely based on real events is wild

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magicalgirlmindcrank · 2 years

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I'm no mechanic, but that's probably not good

#Hatsune Miku #Miku Monday #vocaloid #Miku #kiley's art #i gave on trying to draw a car so i just sketched over the ref sorry #the colorin and Miku is legit tho #loosely based on real events*#*my car did not actually catch fire but did shit itself

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daveyfvckingjacobs · 10 months

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oscar and morris ‘learning’ to drive by stealing the keys of/jumpstarting/possibly straight up hot wiring an old car of weasels and ragging about a car park at 2am working it out as they go cause they can’t afford lessons

bonus: otto in the open boot cause it’s a crappy two door clio and he can’t be bothered to clamber into the back

#handbrake turns while otto almost falls out #morris scared for his life while oscar has a great time #only changing gear when the engine is actually crying under them #totally not loosely based on real events #maybe a little #not the stealing tho #I would never #should I write this #newsies #newsies the musical #the delancey brothers #morris delancey #oscar delancey #otto wiesel

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cuz-reasons · 5 months

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Summary: When Emmet learns that Ingo has been feeling lonely, he decides a movie night is needed.

Day 27: Movie Night/Pajamas

Something shorter and soft today

#submas #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #gym leader elesa #novembmas #submas november #i am once again emotional about my own writing #in my defense i wrote this one while i was in a mood(tm)#so its special to me now between that and the fact i loosely based this on real events #anyways #hope you enjoy!

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happyk44 · 2 years

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For my sweet baby boy Leor, @achillesmonochrome, who I saw for the first time yesterday and miss dearly.

–

Jason was in a soft pair of sweatpants when he finally stepped out of the bathroom. He had been covered head to toe in monster gunk and mud earlier, but no doubt that had swirled down the shower drain. The receptionist had grimaced when the two of them came in but a quick flash of a golden credit card had her smiling through her teeth and instinct to send them back out.

Nico had picked a modest room. There was one king bed in the center, flocked by a wall on one side and thick black curtains on the other. There wasn't much space, but they only had backpacks which were strewn out over the dresser stretched under the TV.

He laid out his wet clothes on a towel next to his backpack. They were clear of the mud that had drenched him earlier, squeezed out, damp and wrinkly.

Nico had survived most of the battle with nothing more than a couple cuts that had already healed. The mud monster had been fixated on Jason the entire time which helped him avoid the splatter when Jason finally exploded the creature.

Obviously Jason didn't have that luxury.

Which was why he was shirtless, standing in the corner of the room, fiddling with the zippers of his backpack.

Nico had already tucked himself into the far end of the bed, so close to the edge that he'd fall out if there were any real space between the bed and the window. He shifted nervously. Coming into his sexuality wasn't as difficult as he worried, but there was still the usual flush and burn that erupted in him at the sight of masculinity and pecs.

He dragged his focus back up to the TV. Some commercial for pet food was playing. The heat from the vent above them bustled on with a sudden hum. The painting next to the TV was an interesting abstract of an apple and a naked lady. So many distractions, so many areas to focus on.

Still his eyes kept drifting towards Jason who was still fiddling with his backpack. Even though he wasn't doing anything but rolling the zipper back and forth.

Jason was on break from his school this week. And Nico was trying to be less isolating, so when Melinoe asked him to pick up some souls that had gone missing during their excursion to surface for regularly scheduled hauntings, he asked Jason if he'd like to tag on. He was eager to agree, but Jason was always eager. It was cute on him.

They hadn't seen each other in a while and hadn't been able to catch up much before the first soul, now shoved into Nico's backpack, started throwing knives at them from the abandoned hotel it was hiding at.

Did something happen at school?

He cocked his head. "Jay? Everything okay?"

Jason stilled. The zipper fell from his fingertips. It was a gentle ting of metal against metal but even with the TV on and the heater humming through the vents, it felt magnified with the way Jason's shoulders drew in tight.

Nico sat up. "Jason? Are you-"

"Can we cuddle?"

It was such a quiet question, breathed near silently from the stoic frozen body in front of him. Jason had tilted his head just a little bit so Nico had better hear him over the sound of everything else. The cut of his jaw was all Nico could see of his face, tense and nervous.

Nerves kicked him in the stomach. He wasn't very touchy these days. His incessant need to reach for others died when Bianca did. Even now, with therapy and medication tacked onto him, the most he did was hold Hazel's hand or accept a kind head pat from his father.

It wasn't something he intently craved anymore. But Jason's voice was quiet. Its own kind of stress.

"Sure," Nico said.

Jason's shoulders fell. He twisted to fully face Nico, almost an unbelieving look on his normally puppy-dog happy face. As though to prove he was fine with it, Nico began pushing himself back against the headboard, flopping the blankets back for Jason to slide into.

For a moment, he wondered how this was supposed to work. Jason was like double his size. Wasn't he supposed to be the one holding Nico?

But before he could rearrange himself, Jason was crawling into the bed quickly, burying himself into Nico's side. His head rested comfortably on Nico's chest. He slung one arm over Nico's stomach and his eyes. His head tilted down a little so all Nico could see was his cropped blonde hair and the bridge of his nose.

Slowly Nico drew his arm down over Jason's shoulder and squeezed his shoulder. Then drew his hand up to sit in Jason's hair. His fingers slid through damp but soft locks. Nails scratched gently at his scalp.

Jason sighed comfortably and snuggled in closer.

Nico repeated the motion over and over again until his wrist began to ache from the angle. Then he slowed down and let his arm rest over Jason's chest as far as he could reach.

Jason's skin was warm. Nico rubbed a small circle into his side with his thumb, pulling his attention back to the TV.

There was a soft comfort in being the holder this time, instead of the one being held. Despite his size, Jason seemed so small tucked into Nico's side like this. Unthinkingly Nico entwined their fingers together. Jason just pushed in as close as he could one more, squeezing Nico's hand tight, like he was afraid Nico would let go.

Questions rolled around his side but the mindless circling on Jason's skin, the pressure from his weight and the fast paced baking show on the television managed to numb those questions into a static silence at the back of his mind.

Two hours passed in steady silence and comfort. The only break of the quiet was a random comment here and there about the show or Nico's annoyance at seeing the same ten commercials over and over again.

Then Jason lifted his head up. Nico eased back, allowing him to sit up fully. He eat up straight for a few seconds before bowing forward, back and shoulders hunched. His head was ducked inwards close to his chest. He sat, legs crossed over each other, his hands palming in the center gap between his legs. His arms were stretched taut.

Nico waited.

Working with ghosts had taught him enough about having patience when it came to someone putting their thoughts together. And while Jason was always thoughtful about his choice of words, there was something more pensive about him now. Nervous and small.

Nico could understand the pain of trying to find a way to explain your feelings. To explain your actions.

To talk about what you wanted and why.

"I haven't-" Jason gave a heavy sigh. It rolled out of him with a sense of turbulence and furrowed brows. His hands tightened up. Nico took a moment.

Then reached over to place his hand on Jason's knee.

Jason's eyes snapped to it. He stared, briefly, before glancing up at Nico and smiling softly.

"I haven't really. Cuddled with anyone in a while."

Nico didn't move his hand. His thumb began stroking a soft circle through the thick fabric. "I thought the wolf kids loved piling on top of each other?"

"Yeah, but-" Jason hung his head back. Then shifted up, his knees drawing to his chest. Nico pulled back his hand but left his arm stretched out over the pillow beside him. After a moment, Jason fell back into the empty space and curled up under Nico's armpit. "I was always on the outside, keeping watch. And then I became praetor and got my own room. And then Juno kidnapped me." He winced. "Again. And things just-" He rolled over and timidly wrapped himself around Nico again. "I just miss it."

Without thinking, Nico began petting Jason's hair again as he considered what to say. Jason leaned into the touch with a happy sigh. A gentle sweet sound that curdled hot in Nico's chest. He pulled Jason's arm over his stomach again and slid their fingers together like a key into a lock.

He was sure he missed being touched too. Held comfortable and loved. It was human nature to do so. Even his father, as reclusive as he could be, was content to present himself with arms outstretched for his wife to wrap herself around. He would squeeze Nico's shoulder when they passed each other, run his hand through his hair, pat him firm in the middle of his back.

Pure isolation wasn't healthy. Everyone wanted connection.

But it wasn't something he innately craved. He was content to give it out when people asked, no longer recoiled when it was offered. Still, he did reach out too sometimes, didn't he? Always giving Hazel a firm hug when they saw each other. And a kiss goodbye.

When he was home, he tucked himself into Macaria's side after years of her putting him there. With Zagreus, he would entwine their fingers together whenever they were standing near one another. Zagreus never pushed for anything more but he always gave Nico a gentle squeeze and smoothed his thumb over the back of Nico's hand in gentle sweeps. Even Melinoe, following in their father's impersonable footsteps, let Nico play mindlessly with her long dual-coloured hair without complaint.

"I don't mind cuddling," he said quietly. "If you ever want it."

Jason closed his eyes and nuzzled into Nico's chest. Nico reached down to pull the blanket up over his exposed shoulders and tucked it in around Jason's shoulders and upper back before returning to petting his hair. Soft strokes with gentle scrapes against his scalp.

"Do you ever feel like you can't ask for things because no one has ever expected you to?" Jason murmured. "Or because you're not allowed to?"

Nico's hand paused. He considered the question. "Yes, but-" He continued the stroking. "-why wouldn't you be allowed?"

"Why wouldn't you be?" Jason shot back without a hint of roughness.

Nico pinched his earlobe but continued petting. "My father's children aren't well-liked. In the past, we really weren't allowed to have things without them being taken away by other demigods or…" He closed his eyes. "...gods that didn't respect our father and saw us as a nuisance to living. Things don't always work out for us. It's easier to assume we're not allowed things we want than to try and seek it out. Safer. Less chance we'll get hurt when it gets taken away."

He sighed slowly and opened his eyes. A cake sculpted in the shape of a dog was the screen, slightly jarring in its comedy compared to the heft of emotion in the air. He glanced down at Jason. The glow on the TV illuminated the clear blue of his eyes.

"I'm working on it."

Jason smiled softly. Then pulled Nico's hand towards him and kissed the back of it before fucking their clenched hands under his chin. "That's good. You deserve whatever you want. You've done enough."

"Yeah? What about you?"

He ducked his head down. His free hand came up to fiddle with the black chipping nail polish on Nico's hand. He smoothed his hand down over Nico's wrist. Just let it sit there while he thought.

"I'm not really a person." He shook his head and shifted a little bit more comfortable in Nico's hold. "At Camp Jupiter, there was enough to relate to with everyone else that I never paid much attention to things I missed. I don't really have that kind of. Humanity. I guess. The kids at my school - they have these lives in and outside of their responsibilities. I never really had that." He pressed deeper into Nico and tilted his head into Nico's chest. Like he was trying to hide. "Didn't really have anything."

Like someone willing to pull him into the wolf pile to cuddle. Someone who saw the cold young kid laying outside the safety of the pack to keep watch and tugged him anyway.

He was sure Jason's old friends loved him as much as they could. But he was also sure they held him at arm's length. Like you were supposed to with golden children. Jason was his own cursed celebrity. The infamous son of Jupiter.

Made for greater things than them.

And if someone didn't know that, no doubt they'd learn quickly from everyone else. Meanwhile Jason was left to the wayside. To rise to greatness.

To die alone.

Pulling Jason in closer, Nico leaned down and kissed the top of his head then pulled back just enough to murmur, "You deserve nice things and whatever you want. You've done enough."

Jason's face drew back just enough for his voice to be loud and clear in the air. He squeezed Nico's hand and smiled wide. "Thank you," he whispered.

Nico grinned. "You're my friend. I want you to be happy."

Jason leaned up to give a fleeting kiss on Nico's cheek before nuzzling quick back into Nico's chest with a happy sigh. "I love you," he murmured.

Nico's smile widened and he kissed the top of Jason's head as he stroked down his shoulder sweetly. "I love you too."

#loosely based on real events lmaoo #jasico #jason grace #nico di angelo #pjo fanfic #my fanfic #my writing #happy talks pjo #jasonnico

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