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parkitaco · 10 months

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Every morning, Mike swears his alarm goes off earlier.

He groans, rubbing sleep from his eyes and rolling over. Will is still asleep beside him, arms looped loosely around his waist, and Mike winces as he shifts, trying not to wake him. He leans over to slap the off button on the alarm, then spends a long few minutes staring at the glowing red numbers, trying to gather the courage to get up.

This, unfortunately, is the cold reality of being a college student - his weekends are constantly usurped by extra shifts at the diner where he works.

But it also means that he gets to keep this apartment, where he lives with his boyfriend, and it's for this reason that he finally tosses off the covers and sits up.

Or- tries to. Before Mike can clamber out of bed, a pair of sturdy arms wrap firmly around his middle, and he yelps as he tumbles back onto the mattress.

He huffs, trying and failing to repress a smile as Will shoves his face into the space between Mike's shoulder blades. "Will," he hums, staring out at the window where light is streaming in - they'd forgotten to close the blinds - and letting one hand rest over Will's where it's pressed against his stomach. "I have to get up."

There's no response, only a light snuffling, and if Mike were just slightly dumber and didn't know Will quite as well as he did, he'd assume he was asleep. Unfortunately, though, Will happens to be very good at getting what he wants, and this is one of his primary tactics.

"Will," Mike says again, gently tugging at Will's arm in an attempt to pry him off him, and Will's grip on him tightens. "Will, c'mon."

Again, there's no response, but Will's nose digs into his back a little more firmly.

"I know you're awake," Mike tries, wriggling a little in his grip, and Will whines.

"Nuh uh," he mumbles, muffled.

Mike rolls his eyes, craning his neck back to peer over at him as best he can. "Babe, I have to get up."

"Nuh uh," Will says again, as Mike carefully twists around to face him again. His eyes are still closed, but his nose is scrunched up in offense, and when he turns his head into Mike's shoulder he can see that his cheek is flushed and lined with pillow creases. Something warm settles in Mike's chest, and he smiles as he presses a kiss to the top of Will's head.

"I'm gonna be late," he tries, but it sounds unconvincing even to his own ears, and Will grunts noncommittally.

"So be late," he mumbles, evidently giving up on feigning sleep, and curls closer.

"I'll get fired."

"So get fired." Will presses a kiss to his collarbone, and Mike, the weak man that he is, lifts a hand to tangle his fingers in Will's hair. "Then we can stay here forever."

Mike smiles, leaning into Will's warmth a little as his hand dips under Mike's sleep shirt, thumb rubbing placating circles into his hip. It makes Mike's resolve crack just a little more, and he sighs, cupping the back of Will's head with one hand and kissing his head again.

"That would be nice," he allows, and Will hums appreciatively, "until we stopped being able to afford the apartment, and then we'd have to live on the street, and-"

"Okay, Mike," Will grumbles, and his grip on him loosens ever so slightly.

Mike's resolve may be cracking, but he knows an opportunity when he sees one, and he uses Will's brief moment of weakness to wriggle out of his grasp. Will releases an unholy yelp of offense and scrambles for him, fingers skating over Mike's arms, waist, anywhere he can reach, but fails to find purchase. "Sorry, sorry," Mike says, half-laughing as he tumbles out of bed and Will falls back onto the mattress in defeat. "Sorry, I'm sorry, we can hang out later, I swear."

Will stays silent, bottom lip stuck out in a pout and arms folded over the covers. His eyes are open now, wide and brown and sad, and Mike knows it's all for show and can't help but be a little moved by it anyway. For someone that is generally opposed to lying, Will really is excellent at it.

Mike suppresses a smile, giving in and leaning over to kiss him softly. Immediately, Will wraps a hand around the front of Mike's shirt, smiling a little against his lips, and Mike leans away just as he tugs sharply at him, trying to pull him back down onto the bed.

"Nice try," Mike says, prying his fingers off and laughing as Will immediately goes back to pouting.

"I hate you," Will says, and Mike blows him a kiss as he crosses to the dresser and starts rooting around for a fresh t-shirt.

He gets ready quickly, on account of the ten minutes Will had so rudely absorbed, pulling on a t-shirt and jeans before stumbling out to the kitchen to make coffee and throw a piece of bread into the toaster. The kitchen is freezing, on account of it being mid-November and the two of them not being able to afford to keep the apartment constantly heated, and Mike wraps his arms around himself as he waits for the toaster to ding. With every passing second, he wishes more and more that he could take Will up on his offer (demand) to stay in bed, curled up under the warm covers with his even-warmer boyfriend.

It's rare that they get days like this, where the light streaming through the windows feels pleasant rather than blinding and their biggest strife is over one of them having to leave for work or school. It's nice, and normal, and Mike's never particularly subscribed to normalcy but, given the alternative of night terrors and monsters haunting them and those days when it feels like he can't move a muscle, normal sounds pretty great. He'd sell his soul for a lifetime of normal with will.

It's for this reason, mainly, that Mike makes a second cup of coffee, despite the fact that Will is a clingy nuisance who has probably already made Mike late for work, which Mike is actually rather pissed about.

(He's not. He wouldn't have it any other way, especially since there was a time when he didn't think he'd be lucky enough to have something as stupidly good as Will Byers clinging to him and making him late for things.)

When, after wolfing down a piece of slightly-burnt toast and pouring coffee into a mug for Will and a to-go cup for himself, he quietly pokes his head back into the bedroom, Will has already taken over the whole mattress, spread-eagled with his face planted firmly into a pillow. Mike smiles to himself and pads softly across the floor, setting Will's coffee mug down on the nightstand and reaching over to card a gentle hand through Will's hair.

"Mmph," Will groans, shifting just enough to open one eye at Mike.

Mike's smile widens, and he leans over to press a kiss to Will's temple, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Made you coffee," he murmurs, and when Will scrunches his nose at him, "I know, I know, you want to sleep. But- it's there if you want it, that's all."

"Thank you," Will mumbles begrudgingly, but Mike can see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he reaches up to curl his fingers around Mike's wrist. "Are you leaving?"

"Yeah," Mike says, a little regretfully, glancing at the clock. "M' sorry."

"S'okay," Will murmurs - the coffee gesture must have made him a little more agreeable. He guides Mike's hand over to his lips and presses a kiss there, right in the center of Mike's palm. "I love you."

Mike smiles, tapping a fingertip against Will's jaw as Will kisses his hand again. "I love you too. I'll see you when I-" he cuts himself with a yelp when, with absolutely zero warning, Will tugs on his arm, hard, sending him tumbling back onto the mattress.

"Oh," Mike sighs, as Will's ironclad grip settles around his waist again, "I am so going to get fired."

---

Mike does not get fired, which is great for his and Will's financial situation but not so great for his personal affliction to doing physical labor. By the time he gets home, after a grueling eight-hour shift and the added half hour of traffic, he's bone tired and half-wishing he'd taken Will up on the whole staying-in-bed-forever thing after all.

He closes the door firmly and leans heavily against it, sighing and letting his eyes fall shut. He takes three deep breaths, then opens his eyes again, dropping his keys and wallet on the counter.

There's a patter of footsteps from down the hall, and Mike smiles a little to himself, glancing up as Will pokes his head around the corner, calling out a bleary "Mike?" before, upon seeing him, breaking out into a blinding smile. "Baby!" he cheers, as Mike laughs and holds out his arms. Will launches himself into them with zero hesitation, colliding with him forcefully and sending Mike stumbling back into the counter.

"Hi," Mike laughs, as Will winds his arms around his neck and begins peppering the side of his face with kisses. "Missed you."

"Mmph," Will replies, which is code for I missed you too, so very much, and pulls away, hopping up onto the kitchen island and beckoning Mike closer.

Mike grins wide and comes to stand between Will's knees, placing one hand on his thigh and the other against the side of his face. "Have you done anything at all today?" he asks, looking him up and down. Will is still in his sleep shirt and a pair of Mike's stolen sweatpants, and his hair is endearingly ruffled, like he'd been napping before Mike got home. Mike is incredibly jealous of this fact, because he'd spent the day serving ungrateful customers and trying and failing to prevent anything from spilling on him, but any negative emotions are undercut by Will, who looks so sweet and flushed and warm that Mike can't really be pressed to complain.

"I did art," Will says proudly, despite the fact that doing art is kind of his resting state.

Mike bumps his nose against Will's, smiling. "Do I get to see?"

"Later," Will says, and kisses him, slow and sure. He tastes like early evening sleep and tea and cigarettes, his hands coming up to cup Mike's face and tilt him into a better angle. Mike hums, soft and appreciative, and Will pulls back with a lazy smile.

"I can't believe I spent all day working my ass off while you sat here and doodled," Mike mumbles, knocking his forehead against Will's.

"I didn't- doodle," Will huffs, breath fanning across Mike's chin, and Mike grins all teeth, pleased at getting him all riled up. "And I've worked plenty of long shifts this week. S' not a competition."

"You're right," Mike agrees, suddenly in a very agreeable mood which may or may not be related to Will's lips, which are very close and very kissable.

It's worth it, too, when said lips stretch into a pleased little smile, and Will rubs a thumb along Mike's cheek, gazing up at him with unfiltered adoration. "'Course I am," he replies, and kisses Mike again before he can argue, not that he would have tried particularly hard to.

It's sweet and saccharine, Will's tongue running slowly over the line of Mike's lip. Mike's hand shifts to grab hold of Will's waist, mostly just to ground him where he's gone a little weak in the knees, because if he melted to the floor over a singular kiss, Will would never let him live it down.

He's pretty sure Will knows anyway, though, because he grins against Mike's mouth and pulls him closer, humming appreciatively. "I love you," he murmurs into the kiss, and- okay, if Mike wasn't feeling dizzy before, he certainly is now.

He disconnects the kiss a little reluctantly, a smile tugging insistently at his lips. He presses it down, tipping his head to one side inquisitively. "I love you too, freak," he says, laughing a little. Will is so- odd, sometimes, so clingy and affectionate and giggly, and it's not a bad thing by any means, but he's not always so bubbly. Not without a reason.

He bumps his nose against Will's again, and Will scrunches said nose at him. You're like a cat, he'd said once. Always- fucking- headbutting me, or something.

It's 'cause I like you, Mike had replied, and Will hadn't been able to think of a comeback for that.

"What's going on?" he asks now, lightly teasing and faintly confused. "Why are you being so- nice?"

Will gives him a look, hooking his arms around Mike's neck and drawing him in for another kiss. "M' always nice to you," he mumbles, still half-kissing him, and Mike's smile wins out as he leans into it a little.

"I just meant," Mike starts, leaning away, only to be immediately cut off by Will kissing him again, quick and sweet, "you're being extra- affectionate, today." His eyes widen, and he pulls back for real, staring up at Will. "Oh God, did you do something bad? Are you trying to butter me up so I won't be pissed? Oh, no, what did you break this time-"

"Nothing!" Will squawks, flicking the side of his face indignantly. "Nothing, oh my God, I just. I don't know." He curls a finger through a lock of Mike's hair and tugs absently at it. "Today's a good day, and I just wanted to take advantage of that."

"Oh," Mike says, a slow smile spreading across his face. Will has a point - last week had had some bad days. They'd gotten into an argument on Monday - the small, inconsequential kind that had been resolved not even one full day later, but fighting with Will in any capacity always makes Mike's skin crawl. Then Will had had a bad day, the kind where he'd woken up screaming too many times the night before and had been overtired and sad all day. The day after that, Mike had had a bad day, the kind where he hadn't been able to move or talk or eat or do much of anything but lay in the dark, and Will had cried three times with worry and had tried not to let Mike see.

But this week has been better. They go in cycles like this sometimes, as lasting childhood trauma will tend to do to people, but it always gets better. Everything is better, with Will around.

"Yeah, okay," Mike whispers, and Will smiles as he drags him back in for another kiss.

#hi :))#idk what this is i've just desperately needed to write established relationship lately #but haven't come up with a good idea for a longer fic #. anyway. here.#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #st fic #byler ficlet

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lemonwrap · 4 months

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Imagine: Ghost’s mask is permanently attached to his face.

It’s probably with pins in the bones, or something like that to make it extremely difficult or even impossible to remove. It hurts to eat and talk, so Ghost doesn’t speak much, and it keeps his identity hidden at first. It was Roba’s doing, of course.

It had been the 141’s job to take down Roba, which is why they were in Mexico in the first place and came across Ghost as he was escaping after killing Roba. They take him in, and Ghost becomes familiar with Price, Soap, and Gaz, the members of Task Force 141. Despite his trauma and initial reluctance, Ghost grows very close to Soap, begins to see Price as an almost father-like figure, and becomes good friends with Gaz.

They make it their mission to remove the mask.

#Does the timeline here make sense? Not quite but I can do what I want #They would all be on the younger side in this AU #Inspired by a fic I read years ago about the Winter Soldier #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #task force 141 #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #maybe? could also be platonic/not an established relationship as well #lemonwrap writes

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bratphilia · 6 months

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i would sell my left foot to have my cheeks clapped by neighbor/family friend william afton

you and me both anon. you and me both

in fact, william is obsessed with fucking you at any given opportunity, especially in cases where there's the danger of being caught.

one of these instances is at a dinner party your parents are hosting. when you walk in the door, coming from work, all william steve needs is one look from you to know what you want. what the both of you want, really.

a few minutes pass by and he decides to go after you, making a quick excuse of going to the bathroom. when he opens your door, you're already naked and standing in front of the mirror as you remove your makeup off. he approaches you and greets you with a kiss on your shoulder and on your cheek, embracing you tightly from behind.

"someone missed me," you say with a smile growing on your face.

"missed you so much, doll," he says, inhaling the scent of your shampoo and closing his eyes blissfully.

it doesn't take long before he's on top of you on your bed, cock sheathed deep inside you. one hand is over your mouth to silence your noises and the other is wrapped around your neck, a new kink the two of you recently discovered you enjoy.

he's pounding into you mercilessly, causing the bed to squeak like it will snap any moment now. he tries his best to keep his own grunting to a minimum, but fuck is it hard. especially with the way your pussy clenching around him.

the goal here is to not make you scream when you come, which is hard for you because you're just so receptive to his every touch. so, as a solution, when he feels you getting close, he presses his mouth to yours, enveloping you in a kiss made rough by his movements.

a squeal is muffled in his mouth as you drench his cock in your come. he pulls out and pumps himself until he's ejaculating on your stomach.

#it might not be obvious but this is kinda a sequel to glass window #since yk theres a pre-established relationship here #fnaf #fnaf smut #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #steve raglan #william afton #william afton x reader #asks

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t-u-i-t-c · 24 days

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"Shiro-senpai it is!"

+ bonus

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zivvis · 3 months

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guy who crossed the country just to buy a necklace instantly gets roasted by the guy he bought the necklace for

genuinely tho this line got me so good. like yes I thought it would be that easy but I'm so glad it isn't! feels like gore wouldn't even be gore if his romance started with or hinged on a piece of jewelry

#i can't tell yet if he still says it even when you have an established relationship but in some ways it'd be even funnier if he did #gore skyrim #skyrim gore #gore mod #he's so quickly become my favorite follower out of any game i've ever played #thank you for using your magical (?) nose to tell me when its falmer i hate those guys #and for taking me on your healing journey :') has actually been helpful irl #also yazrikh is here too i guess for tagging purposes

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daily-hanamura · 7 months

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#persona 4 #p4 #persona 4 golden #p4g #hanamura yosuke #souyo #this scene revealed so much of their relationship in one go #yosuke has already long been established as yu's confidant at this point but this moment really drove it home!#yosuke anticipates each of yu's behaviour #but even though he disagrees with it he doesn't judge yu for it #even going so far as to help yu hide it from the rest of the team #its debatable whether thats necessarily a good thing #but it demonstrates yosuke's unwavering loyalty to yu while also making clear his disappointment #and of course yosuke has much to feel sad and disappointment over - one the one hand it felt like yu didnt trust him/them enough #he phrased it as a matter of “you should trust us more” as opposed to “you should trust ME more” because talking about trust in the singula #would hit too close to home and risk making too many demands of yu. demands that yosuke didnt feel he was allowed to make #afterall why would yu trust him but not the others? but the team is made up of other more reliable people than he was #and bringing up the team gives yosuke a defensive cover #so as usual it's part of yosuke's self doubt creeping in #but theres also honesty here - yosuke wasnt here to accost him or be angry at him; he really showed up just to make sure that yu was safe #and once hes confirmed it yosuke falls back to his usual habits of cracking a joke to lighten the mood #to end the conversation on a joke feels like its as much a service for yu as it is for himself #we know yosuke tends to joke to make the people around him feel better and i think in this instance he was also trying to cheer yu up #whether it was to make up for yosuke approaching him or to alleviate any guilt yu might feel #or even to manage whatever it was that adachi might have said to yu (which yosuke undoubtedly picked up on)#yosuke doesn't let his disagreement with yu get in the way of supporting his partner #to some extent i also wonder if this loyalty was also coloured by their previous interaction with namatame and Yosuke's anger #it's been less than a week since that incident after all and i think theres this contradiction for yosuke #and i think there was probably a contradiction in Yosuke's heart in that moment: he doesn't trust himself to make good judgements #but as much as he'd rather take yu's lead in this instance he also feels like his leader was wrong here

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wurstigdurstig · 8 months

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stuck part 1 from ????? part 2

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate fanart #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #astarion/tav #the relationship is established here already fyi

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afewproblems · 10 months

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Ooo steddie and #78 could be so good

78. "You weren't supposed to hear that."

Thank you nonny, I hope I've done the prompt justice!

"How did I get so lucky," Steve mumbles tiredly into the planes of Eddie's pale back.

He's fast asleep on his front, passed out with a blissed out smile still pulling at his mouth, his face turned towards Steve on his pillow.

Steve leans down and kisses his naked shoulder, watching the steady rise and fall of Eddie's breathing and the way the moonlight filtering through Steve's bedroom window paints his skin silver.

It's new, this thing between them, but Steve's heart has never cared about things like that.

He's all in already, not that Eddie needs to know.

Steve's not stupid enough to scare him away with something like this, big feelings that happened way too quickly.

Steve absently traces one of the jagged demobat scars, and sighs contentedly.

He can let himself have this, he can let himself say it just this once, no consequences.

"I love you," he whispers, letting the words hang in the quiet room.

"Oh, sweetheart," Eddie mumbles, making Steve freeze.

Fuck.

Eddie rolls over and sits up, swiping a hand over his face and into his hair. He flips a handful of curls out of his eyes and smiles broadly, but it disappears the moment he sees Steve's stricken expression.

"You weren't supposed to hear that," Steve manages to say, his heart in his throat.

He lifts his gaze to the window behind them, briefly calculating the likelihood of breaking his leg by jumping out the window or how quickly the cops would be called for indecent exposure.

He could always lock himself in the bathroom -it's the least outlandish plan and one that won't result in bodily harm or an arrest.

He startles again as a gentle hand caresses his cheek.

"Where did you go?" Eddie murmurs, he still looks concerned, and a bit confused now, his big brown eyes flick back and forth between Steve's own.

"Do I need to radio the party babe? Because I'm not that keen for them to catch us with our pants down".

Eddie's grinning as he says it but his brow is pinched and Steve can't take his big brown eyes staring with such open concern.

"It's okay, Eddie, really," Steve mumbles.

His fingers gather the fabric of the sheets into his fists as he brings them up to further cover himself.

"You don't have to pretend you didn't hear me, we can, you can," he bites his lip and takes a deep breath through his nose.

He can do this, he can do what he should have done for Nancy.

"You don't have to stay here and pretend--"

"Woah, woah, what the fuck are you talking about?" Eddie says sharply, he turns to face Steve fully, letting the sheets pool around his hips.

"Please don't make me say it again," Steve croaks, his voice brittle and wane in the quiet room.

The words, you're bullshit, we're bullshit, echo distantly, again and again.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says gently, "I don't understand what you're talking about".

Steve swallows, feeling as though his chest is about to crack in two with how fast his heart is beating, "I said I love you."

Eddie stares blankly at him, lifting his hands in a go-on, motion.

"I…it's too soon," he picks at a loose thread hanging from the sheet fabric twisted between his fingers, "isn't it?"

At this Eddie softens entirely.

He sucks his teeth and pulls Steve towards him with a long sigh.

"Sweetheart," Eddie murmurs into Steve's hair as he nuzzles his ear, lifting his face to nibble gently on the lobe, "darling, light of my life, oh fairest knight, my honey nut cheerio--"

"Okay, knock it off," Steve groans as he tries to get out from Eddie's arms but they tighten around Steve, holding him in place.

"My love," Eddie hums, making Steve pause, "oh you like that one huh?"

Eddie leans back and lifts his hand to tip up Steve's chin, from this angle Steve can see the barest of freckles dust over his nose and the crinkles at the edges of his eyes.

They're too young for wrinkles but Steve can see where they will eventually make their home, a whole future on Eddie's face.

"Who says it's too soon? Fuck that," he says roughly now, his brown eyes flit between Steve's own, "I love you too, no take backs".

Eddie swipes his thumb over the crest of Steve's cheek, catching a tear he hadn't realized was there.

No, not now.

Steve tries to duck his head, to wipe his eyes and pinch his nose but Eddie beats him to it as he leans in to lay smacking kisses all over, on his closed eyes, Steve's cheeks, his chin -which Eddie pauses to nibble on just like his ears, before finally attempting to place a gentle kiss against his lips which have pulled into a wide giggling grin.

"Be serious Steve," Eddie huffs, tamping down his own smile, "shit, how am I supposed to kiss my boyfriend when he's laughing like a damn loon?"

Steve feels like crying all over again.

"Say it again," Steve murmurs, his eyes still closed, some small part still worried if he opens them this will all disappear.

"My boyfriend," Eddie hums, pressing one last kiss to Steve's nose, "I'll say it as many times as you need me to until you believe it Stevie".

"I love you," Eddie whispers again as he tilts Steve's face up before kissing his lips. It’s chaste but the way he sucks on Steve’s bottom lip as he pulls away and waggles his eyebrows makes Steve sigh.

"What do you say I take my boyfriend to bed?" Eddie says softly against Steve's lips as he climbs over him, bracketing his hands on either side of Steve's head.

"I'd say we're already here you dork--"

The rest of his sentence is lost in a grunt as Eddie let's himself fall into Steve, muttering about how vengeance will be nearly as sweet as him.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #established relationship #hurt and comfort #oh steve you sweet muffin #steve x eddie #afewproblems writes #afewproblems answers #making the blorbos kiss #this is so sweet and fluffy i can sell it at a carnival for profit #get ready for tooth rotting fluff over here

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layla-carstairs · 4 months

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no matter how many times she explains it I don't think me and Cassandra Clare will ever be in agreement about James and Lucie losing their powers. like its just not a satisfactory explanation to me im sorry

#her comparing it to the endarked & warlock's spells while also says Belial had no actual influence over them developing powers #in the same ask.... okay #like the relationship between Sebastian and the endarked was that he created them! he influenced them!#he was overriding their free will with his will like. them dying with him made sense #same with warlocks & their spells there's a very specific creator -> creation dynamic here #that is not comparable to James & Lucie relationship to Belial #maybe me and cc just categorize them differently bc to me theyre more like Sebastian & lilith or Jace clary & ithural #*ithuriel #like!! when ithuriel dies Jace & Clary do not lose their powers that are a product of them being born with his powers #*blood #BUT clary does lose her prophetic dreams that are established as being given to her by ithuriel #theres an established difference between the two!!!! James and Lucie should not have lost their powers I'll stand by that till I die #bella talks #james herondale #lucie herondale #cassandra clare #chain of thorns #the last hours #tlh

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 4 months

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In your lights out!au when Eddie wakes up, how did Frank feel? Was he happy? Relieved? Were they a thing before everyone went to sleep, or did they realize they had feelings for each other afterwards?

I hope this hasn't been asked before! I'm just really curious

i'm thinking that before everything went dark, they were getting there. nothing was said aloud, but they were both having Mutual Feelings and Charged Moments that neither could ignore

just because i think it'd interesting if when Eddie wakes up, it's like no time at all passed. he walked Frank home just last "night". but it's been years for Frank - they have to reestablish where they had been with the added facets how time has worn on Frank. among other things

#and they only get like 5-6 months to figure their shit out!#thankfully for the both of them frank is less inclined to keep up pretenses. he becomes a bit of a go-getter #cause he's like 'well its been years. im tired & im dying. fuck it we ball'#its that class The Apocalypse Speeds Up Relationship Development thing #not drastically! it still takes them a good couple of months #this is actually why i had eddie wake up before julie #i wanted him and frank to have Some time together #5-6 months isnt half bad i think. sorta #rambles from the bog #wh lights out au #to make a long story short #feelings were realized but not shared pre-dark #and post-dark they're shared and somewhat established #how established can you be in their situation!#as for how frank felt... A Confusing Tangle Of Emotions #too complicated to write out here really

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hitlikehammers · 1 month

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POV: when your boyfriend accidentally overhears you spilling all your (very misplaced) insecurities about him leaving you for the white-picket-fence love he ‘deserves’

aka: CONCLUSION ☄️ hold me oh so close (you’re the sanctuary) 2/2 (and still 100% for @pearynice on her birthday🎉)

✨previously: “I just gotta believe that loving, even for just a short time’s worth it, when it feels like this,” and Eddie does believe that. Deep down, even if it’s alongside doubting and hurting. Eddie believes it, else he’d have run ages ago. Loving Steve Harrington is worth it. “Ed,” Wayne starts his tone a little off, a little…probably tied up in the something Eddie doesn’t have a clue as to what he nudging at, still, but whatever it’s— Eddie thinks he about shoots his head up through the ceiling of the trailer—which would be a goddamn shame because again: new trailer, still a draft, doesn’t need a hole—when he hears the clatter of something heavy not more than ten paces behind him. Which places it still in the kitchen, where he is but only just. Eddie whirls, heart pounding, ready for the worst— And his eyes lock with Steve’s. Steve, who it appears has placed one of his mother’s fancy-ass pie plates covered in aluminum foil near the phone in the corner by the door. Which he’d have opened, y’know, with his key. Because they lock the doors now, still, just in case. But Steve has his own key, and— Oh. Oh, that might have been what Wayne was nudging toward.

“You,” Eddie barely breathes out, and if his heart was pounding for fear a second ago it’s…it’s doing a thing he’s pretty sure isn’t normal, maybe is wholly unprecedented in all of human history of some shit, and he, he—

“Unintentional,” Steve grins a little sheepish at the plate he’d set on the counter, clocking that’s how he’d given himself away, why Eddie was panting a little for the adrenaline rush and the also not just or even primarily about the adrenaline rush; “but like—“

But like then Wayne’s scraping his chair against the linoleum instead of his spoon against his mug, standing up and dropping both into the sink before he clasps Eddie’s shoulder, squeezes, then crosses over toward Steve, does the same and asks low don’t eat it all without me, yeah? and Steve laughs, matches the fondness Wayne aims at him as he lobs back like we’d start without you and Wayne hums his approval before grabbing his truck keys, muttering something about needing cigs—which Eddie’s knows damn well he doesn’t—and then he glances at Eddie with that look, and, and…

Oh, Jesus.

The door’s barely closed behind Wayne before Eddie turns in his chair, knows his knees aren’t gonna hold him just now if he stands, there’s this under-the-skin kinda trembling he can feel that might be his heartbeat or might be his bones quaking apart because, like, Wayne had been looking at him the whole time like that and—

“How long have you been standing there?” Eddie barely squeaks out, it’d be a weirdly humiliating sound either way but it’s not because Eddie can barely process anything over the raucous thunder of his own goddamn pulse because how long has Steve been standing there and, and—

How much did Steve hear?

“Long enough,” Steve finally answers after spending a little time playing with his lips between his teeth in a way that normally drives Eddie a little crazy, but right now he’s a little too nauseated for it to hit.

“Longer than I’d have liked, because the things I heard,” Steve’s voice cracks as he shakes his head, and he looks so crushed, so pained and Eddie feels both sensations wash over him and settle in deep and at ten times the intensity, the weight because Eddie’s caused it. Eddie’s own words fucking made this and he—

“But it was at least as long as I needed, so that I could hear ‘em,” and Steve’s crossing to him, now, crouching a little so grip Eddie at the forearms; “because I needed to hear them.”

Eddie turns, hides his face which makes him feel sick because this is Steve, there are no moments he doesn’t want to see him, to drink him in, to refresh the permanent etching of the whole of him on the insides of Eddie’s eyelids, the ephemeral tangle of Eddie soul so he’ll remember for always what this felt like, what love can be.

For when it’s gone.

“Eddie,” Steve reaches, gathers Eddie’s hands so strong, but sure and so gentle, like he wants to…preserve. So as to keep.

Eddie barely keeps down the seizing tremble to sob, but the cost of doing so cuddles in his stomach to the point where it settles even worse.

“Babe, I needed to hear it,” Steve’s hands tighten on him, thumb stroking back and forth against the pulse in Eddie's wrist; “but now I need you to hear this, okay? Really hear it, please,” he brings Eddie’s hands closer so one of his own can hold both of Eddie’s so he has one free to grasp Eddie’s chin and lift it up, catch his eyes:

“Can you do that for me?”

And that’s the silver bullet: there’s nothing Eddie wouldn’t do for this man.

So he nods. And if a tear he didn’t notice falls when he blinks, Steve’s hand darts immediately to wipe it clear.

“You still think I want a Nancy,” Steve breathes, a lament and a realization rolled into one, that clenches tight in Eddie’s chest.

“You still think it, don’t you, still have this idea of what that was and what that meant, when the real-life Nancy wasn’t even this idea you have of a Nancy and, and then fuck, then the reality of it, like when me and her were anything?” Steve huffs something…bitter out, not toward Eddie and that’s the thing, isn’t it: Steve and Eddie aren’t perfect, and they fight loud and hard sometimes but they’re never bitter, they don’t swipe dirty.

They love—

“God, we were stupid,” Steve shakes his head and oh, well, yeah, maybe Eddie was stupid to fall so far and so deep fucking knowing the lines and limits and flipping them all off nonetheless but—

Then he looks, and Steve’s regretful. Nostalgic in that way where you think of a thing from the past for the lessons you learned for it, the ones you’re grateful for.

And oh.

Oh, Steve didn’t mean them, he meant himself, and…and her.

“You still think that,” Steve bends his chin to press lips where his thumbs have been, and to hold, and to speak against the delicate skin: “after everything.”

It’s not an accusation. It’s not disappointment. Eddie feels both, though: from himself, toward himself.

“Steve,” Eddie doesn’t mean it to come out like a moan. He swears. He swears he doesn’t mean it.

And yet.

“Come here,” Steve’s springing to his height and drawing Eddie first against his middle, tight to the low-center of his chest where the pulse of him echoes like a bell to toll and the he sinks into the comfort in that sound runs through him like cool rain for just an instant before hands are lifting, guiding him to stand and he stumbles a little but he goes nowhere, because Steve won’t let him, won’t ever let him.

All that perfectly placed trust in this man, never proven wrong.

“Will you come here?” Steve murmurs, watches Eddie’s feet and glances up through his lashes to his eyes, down and back, down and back as he leads them to the couch; knows this space like his own, like his home and that shivers through Eddie’s body—it feels right. Like it could’ve been forever, in another world.

But in this world? Steve asks if Eddie will come with him.

“Always.”

Forever the answer. And so he does.

Steve pulls him close, so close, almost in his lap as he curls against Eddie and gathers his hands again, squeezes to conduct his attention—like it could ever stray.

“I need you to listen to me,” Steve breathes so close to Eddie’s ear, hit on his neck; “I need you to listen, and believe me when I say it.”

All Eddie has in him just that moment is to nod, but fuck, does he nod, nods until Steve kisses the side of his head and tucks him under his chin, where Eddie can feel his blood move along by accident.

But it doesn’t feel like an accident.

“I used to think I fucked up with Nancy,” Steve’s saying, and Eddie can hear it as a whisper as well as he can feel it rumble under Steve’s throat; “and I did, but it was like,” he swallows hard, and Eddie feels that too; “it felt like I was the only guilty one, like I had take to all the blame, that it meant,” and Steve’s breath catches, he tenses, his heart trips a little, speeds a little and Eddie can’t not kills at the swell of his Adams’s apple, then the bump of his pulse, to nuzzle the tip of his nose in between, and Steve’s hand threads in Eddie hair: holds him near.

So fucking near.

“That it meant I was the problem, that I was built wrong,” and Eddie sucks in a breath that hurts but not nearly as much as those words, the implication that Steve ever; “that I was like my parents,” and no, fucking no: Steve is ten times most people in the whole world but in comparison to his fucking parents? Jesus fuck, numbers don’t go high enough to compare how much he outstrips them—

“That my love was only ever gonna be bullshit.”

And Eddie can’t help it. He whimpers when he wants to be still, be quiet and let Steve say what he needs to, let him ease Eddie down gently and make the end of this feel softer than it should, than it will with time but with a kindness no one in the world would ever show Eddie Munson—he wants to respect Steve’s space to say his piece but bullshit—Eddie’s come to trust and care for Nancy Wheeler, wonder of wonders, but fuck if he isn’t tempted to slash her tires and shred her drafts right before her deadlines for at least…ever. For fucking ever, because that’s not even in the same reality of enough of a punishment for saying, for doing what she did to this man’s precious fucking heart and if anyone here is bullshit, she’s—

He doesn’t realize how heavy his breathing has gotten, or how tunneled his vision, until Steve reaches a palm out and cradles his neck: an anchor. He’s quiet, and breathes like a light in the dark to follow home until Eddie can see straighter.

He is such…such goodness that it’s hard to do anything but reorientate the whole of him just…just to Steve.

“And I wondered, for a little while, if I put Nancy on this pedestal?” Steve speaks so soft, pressed now against Eddie’s brow, forehead to forehead. “Like she was something better, above me, and could…balance me out. Make the wrongness better. Worthwhile.”

Impossible. Impossible because she couldn’t, she’s not sufficient. Impossible because there’s no wrongness in Steve Harrington. Impossible because Steve’s more often than not the most, if not the only, worthwhile anything Eddie sometimes knows at all.

“But the reality,” and Steve’s tone, it’s…it’s different now. More…sure, maybe; “the real truth,” and yes, yeah, more sure, it’s a certain thing: “is we were stupid kids who saw horrible things, and we were hurting,” and Steve’s head turns just enough to brush lips against Eddie’s temple before bowing back against Eddie’s forehead, both of them breathing the other’s breath now.

Unbearably intimate. It always is but…but like this—

“Sometimes you lash out when you’re hurting,” Steve says simply, leans trusting into Eddie as he does, so forgiving of things that scarred him so deep; “sometimes hurting back, whatever way you can, is the only thing you’ve got.”

Eddie almost can’t comprehend it; is almost infuriated by its dismissal. But there’s…finality that feels like comfort.

Eddie doesn’t understand why, though, or, or how.

“And she was never, above me,” there’s this almost-smile in Steve’s voice then; “her love wasn’t better than my love,” and that’s the true thing, the most true thing maybe, the thing Eddie knew all along without a single shred of doubt:

“And my love didn’t need to be evened out. It was fine. I was fine.”

Then the pièce de résistance:

“My love’s enough just as it is.”

And Eddie wants simultaneous contractions, so deep and so much he can feel them tearing apart something vital in his chest: because he wants to rail, wants to push back on it because that’s not true, that’s too small: Steve’s love is perfection. Steve’s love is the only evidence Eddie’s ever seen that there might be a benevolent god in the universe somewhere, to allow for the tingly giddy joy that floods him under the warm beat of Steve’s love and if Eddie gets that from this love, limited-time-only though it’s offer might be, then Jesus H. Christ, Steve’s love? Enough?

That’s a fucking insult of the kinds Eddie’ll go account a hill tall enough to die on in defense of that love’s—this man’s—impossible, ineffable worth.

“Especially now,” Steve’s easing Eddie’s grip on him finger by finger—he must have grasped hard, squeezed so so tight when Steve shortchanged anything about himself as only just enough but it s a soft loosening, and he’s not letting go in the slightest, and his lips are set soft with a curve at the corners like maybe he knows that underneath Eddie’s indignation, he’s fucking proud of Steve for getting this far, for making progress that big: the know it clear enough to say it like the foundation fact it is when it took so long to unwrite the lies of a lifetime: yes.

Fuck yes, Eddie is proud of the man he loves who is more than fucking enough, who deserves the whole world.

And Eddie’s not the whole fucking world; Steve deserve so much mo—

“Because now,” Steve’s speaking again, and Eddie promised to listen, to believe like either was ever in question, like the cells in Eddie’s body don’t reorient themselves specifically to be near Steve, to cluster closer to Steve to soak in all of Steve—

“Now, this time, it’s this, this totally sincere thing, it’s this wholly honest, this absolutely genuine, like, timed in the rhythm of your heartbeat kinda thing I’ve never felt before and,” Steve rambles a little but it’s so earnest, so heartfelt where Eddie, or Robin—often their ramblings are just tangled-up tangents but this, from Steve: this is intention atop intention, a mountain of certainties vying for dominance to get the first foot out his mouth and into the world to make itself known.

“My love was always enough, but,” Eddie doesn’t like the ‘but’ on instinct, must scrunch his face or fail to catch a little whine for it because Steve’s hand in his own—still there, still there—but Steve’s still-there hand knows immediately to strokes Eddie’s knuckles, to soothe and to ground because Steve does love him in his way for as long as he’s willing, as long as he wants and it’s perfection, so far exceeding enough.

“But this is different from that other love,” Steve’s speaking it low, like the sound waves at that pitch will sync with something elemental inside Eddie’s DNA, inside the cadence of his blood—like he’d want that for some reason, like he does want that, here and now:

“Because it’s so much bigger, and stronger, and real in this whole new way,” and Steve’s lifting Eddie’s hand to his lips, doesn’t have to look to know the way anymore, presses them dead center to the middle and oh, oh it’s everything, Eddie melts a little and his heart’s still pounding almost painfully but it’s singing a little, forever weak and willfully so for Steve, Steve’s touch, Steve’s love—whatever kind, for however long, this real and tangible thing Eddie can see and feel that’s more than he never dared to conceive of, to think he could hold and—

“I love you, Eds.”

And Eddie’s brain does him the courtesy of stopping before his heart does. Y’know: undercuts the capacity to panic where your blood stops pumping and it’s all just white noise inside the whole of you. Because your brain’s already offline anyway.

Helpful little trick of timing, really.

“I thought maybe it was too soon, and I was waiting to say it until you were ready, maybe,” Steve’s looking at him with this potent swirling mixture of apprehension and hope but all of it bundled up in that patent resolve of his, the thing that slays the monsters and corrals the children and reached that first time cup Eddie’s jaw and draw him all the way in; “maybe in case it ended up that you never were ready, but fuck,” and Steve’s breath huffs out of him like something pushes it, like something’s swelling up inside and squeezing on his organs, making the basic necessities of living a struggle and Eddie feels included to reach, to help and soothe but Steve might still look a little hesitant, but, but—

More than anything, the hope’s shining bright enough in the cracks to start winning out.

“Fuck,” Steve exhales with maybe the last of what’s left of his oxygen before he lifts his gaze and goddamn if those eyes are big enough, golden enough and swimming full enough to drown Eddie by default in something so much bigger than what he understand even the concept of love to be but it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t make sense, Eddie isn’t the dream, he’s not what’s Steve waiting on, but Steve’s hands aren’t just on his anymore, Steve’s hands are tangling with his hands and drawing Eddie’s up under his chin and Eddie can feel him breathing, thinks maybe he can feel his pulse against the skin but it’s hard to tell when Eddie’s own is such a riotous thing, and—

“If I was ever waiting for love, the real thing, the thing right here,” and he squeezes Eddie’s hands tighter, almost nonsensical; “right here,” and he kisses the pads of Eddie’s fingers and holds there close, long and warm like there’s something magnetic there, something worth staying to savor before he leans, holds eddies hands in the bare space between them as his gaze meets Eddie’s and locks there: Eddie couldn’t look away if he tries and then Steve breathes—

“It’s you.”

And Eddie must have heard wrong, same as his lungs, which tighten up to stalling, to causing real goddamn pain behind his bounding heart now because that’s not right, that’s not right—

“Up and down, through and through, forever and,” and Steve’s breath catches, and his eyes fly to Eddie’s, wide not like he surprises himself but like he’s unsure of something, when Eddie’s unsure he’s not fucking dreaming, or maybe goddamn dead and this is his afterlife, his undeserved reward; “umm,” and Steve licks his lips, but never wavers from looking at Eddie like hes the center of the universe, and more than that: some universe Steve wants:

“Always,” he breathes; “forever and always.”

Then he cups both of Eddie’s cheeks and and frames his face, cradles him like he’s dear beyond reason, like every word he said is law and love and light:

“It’s you.”

Eddie cannot fucking breathe.

“So, yeah,” Steve huffs, breathless himself; “that’s, umm,” and he pulls back a little, enough to run a shaky hand through his hair for nerves, and Eddie’s wants to stop him, wants to catch him and bring that hand to his lips but he’s frozen, he’s shaken, he’s stunned because he’s been so sure, he’d been so sure there was an expiration date but Steve had never spoken of one before, then here he’s said always and forever, over and again and both words, every time, were truths where Eddie’s knows Steve’s tells for anything less—these were truths but Eddie’d been sure—

“Guess that’s me pulling my heart out, too,” and Steve gestures between them, chest to chest and Eddie shudders, feels the motion move in his blood somehow: facts. Truths. This man, right here, being brave—having heard Eddie’s words he thought were confessions aimed elsewhere and not shying from them, put handing them back, offering his heart now and how, fucking, fucking how—

“And you can do whatever with it,” Steve sounds sure of that too, almost resigned but mostly resolute; “but Eddie?”

And then he smiles. Soft. Warm. With so much love.

“That’s been true from the start.”

That—

You can do whatever with it.

Like…as if Eddie’s had that heart from—

“Because it took like a second to know it was yours,” Steve spells it out plain, like he knows Eddie will struggle to take it it; he grabs Eddie’s hand and flattens it to his chest, lets him feel the frantic flutter as he exhales fierce:

“That I was yours.”

And between the words, and the certitude; the passion and the pulsing heart under his palm—all of Eddie’s conviction that that this was slowly creeping toward and end, it just…it’s like he held it in that hand.

And the steadfast pump of Steve’s heart breaks it to dust, banished far to nothing.

Eddie’s breath comes back in an incredulous laugh that’s no without tears.

“Mine?” he breathes, hand still on Steve’s heart, eyes trained on Steve’s own, unblinking. Still so close to disbelief.

“Yours,” Steve nods, covers his hand again and presses in. “All of it. Long as you want it.”

“Always,” Eddie answers almost before the last word fades; “always,” and it’s in claiming forever on offer beyond all imagining that it starts to register, to bleed into him full as he chokes out: “I never could have,” then he shakes his head, stacks another hand to Steve’s chest, needs the grounding. The assurance.

And then—

“Mine?”

Steve’s voice is small, but he’s leaning to Eddie’s pulse at his jaw, just the brush of his lips and Eddie shivers, but he turns a hand to drag Steve’s own to his heart, too, because good fucking god—

“Oh fuck,” Eddie breathes, arranges Steve’s fingers to every points around the beating so it’s complete, and fucking proprietary:

“Only yours,” he vows, wholly and complete; “past the day I goddamn die, Stevie,” and he means it, he means it: “only ever been yours.”

And it’s true, and not only because Eddie didn’t really understand love before loving Steve taught him. It’s that, but then: somehow beyond the size of words—it’s also more.

And when Steve leans to kiss him full on the lips, nothing they haven’t spent these last months doing every goddamn day, more chaste even than they’ve been for ages: it doesn’t shift the plates of the planet, or the motions of the tides.

It shifts the way the solar system rotates, the way the universe expands.

Steve tastes like what it means to be alive.

And they stay that way, they lower onto the cushions of the sofa and hold so fucking close, kiss so fucking sure like promises and their celebrations, their renewals and their rebirthings all in one. They kiss until air becomes meaningless, until their lungs burn as much as their eyes, until kisses tears away is commonplace and then spent entire, the moment held close and ushered through as a softness, a commitment to come another unwavering, and then they’re getting the, their breathing is calm and their bodies are pressed like they were made to mould into one perfect shape. They smile stupid at one another, the relief eclipsed in pure fucking joy, now, as Steve nips around Eddie’s face, down how next, to his collarbones: playful. As Eddie twists the soft strands of Steve’s hair and caresses beneath where they fall when he lets go, they start again.

“What kinda pie did you bring?” Eddie asks idly after minutes, probably not hours—they’re still alone and yeah, Wayne knew what he was doing when he left but it’s his day off. And he does love Steve’s baking.

Gets to love Steve’s baking now forever, and Eddie’s not settled enough to resist burying the full width of his grin in Steve’s shoulder for it: another forever-privilege he’s still acclimating to the marvel of.

“Apple,” Steve answers, stretching his neck back so Eddie can fit more fully, more close. “Wayne just said pie, but, I know the deer got your tree,” which they definitely did, the cute little woodland-terrorists, Eddie bought them a salt lick and everything to try and sway their violence. No dice.

“We should look at what it takes for a fence, man,” Steve muses before he reaches, grabs Eddie’s hand to pull it to his lips for a kiss so he can keep Eddie’s face burrowed safe in his neck but still love on him this way all the same as he adds with a knowing grin in his tone, tangible where Eddie’s hand lingers on his lips:

“Plus I know apple’s your favorite.”

And Eddie, he can’t help it, it’s all so fucking much so he, he kinda has to—

He giggles. He giggles, and he tucks himself a little lower, straight to Steve’s chest so tight and he wraps his arms around this man he gets to love, and love with everything, with no end in the cards at all, not ever: he laughs as Steve wraps his arms around him in kind without hesitation, fits around him with no intention of sifting anytime soon, because, because…

An apple pie life. A picket fence love.

Eddie’s heart cartwheels in his chest and he pulls Steve closer, wills him to feel it too, to know what it holds.

All that it holds.

Steve’s arms find some magic way to hold him tighter in kind, like he wants his chest pressed into Eddie’s to share permanent real estate, to meld into one single beating-breathing symphony and…yeah.

Yeah: Steve fucking knows how far this goes, can’t see the end either.

And he somehow wants that, relishes it, smiles so fucking blinding when the lift their heads again and kisses even fucking deeper right up until they hear the gravel rumble and the engine cut and it’s time to slice the goddamn pie, and brew another pot of coffee to go with it, and, and…

And talk about how hard it might be—or how amazing, maybe, even—to put up a fucking fence around an apple tree for the long haul.

also on ao3 🖤

✨permanent tag list (comment to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #fluff #established relationship #but the kind where eddie still thinks steve's still waiting on something better #except steve definitely overheard eddie talking that nonsense and is here to fix it now #good uncle wayne #established steddie #heavy leaning into the COMFORT part of the hurt/comfort tag here #they're gonna build a fucking fence okay?#apple pies forever #stranger things #gift fic #pearynice

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honeydots · 2 months

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did a redraw that was going around on twitter a while back~ ♥♥

og by _K0TTERl_ from their manga veil!!

#xanlow #fe laslow #fe xander #fe fates #feif #fire emblem fates #fe14 #literally have an au where this is remarkably close to their meet cute LOL #i kinda adjusted the redraw to make it match that au eheh. the strawberry moon is where laslow works #its kinda like.......... a showgirl thing....... a showboy.....................#fdjfkdshfsdf. be nice to me okay i like to indulge #might not even be a showboy its more like an entertainer. sorta. im still deciding on the finer details #its my 40s au...!! the main premise of this au is NOT this tho lmao #this is more like. 'ah here's how the established relationship xanlow happened'#okay ive rambled far too much and im embarrassed goodbye #dots draws

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thoughtfulchaos773 · 4 months

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We 'touched' on touch before but I'll reiterate. Sydney was well out of Carmy's way before he touched her back in 2x02.

Another back touch in the very next episode. I consider this part of the blocking and revealing subtext in season 2.

Blocking is another layer to give the audience the story and establish the characters' relationship. Nonverbal cues, such as proximity and touch, convey the characters' relationships.

Blocking is meticulous - every touch and movement matters on camera and is rehearsed before the final shot. The rehearsal process allows actors to craft their movements artfully, revealing subtext, establishing relationships, directing focus, and creating compelling compositions for the camera.

If I focus on Carmy and subtext, I notice he touches the backs of the characters closest to him, such as Mikey's and Natalie's back in Fishes. Additionally, he touches Richie's back in 2x08 Bolognese.

In 2x02 and 2x03 there is a subtle message conveyed through Carmy's actions towards Sydney. As pointed out by @gingerylangylang1979 in a reblog, Carmy is guiding Sydney as he adjusts his environment to make it comfortable for her. He clears the debris and gently touches the small of her back as he takes his jeans out of a neglected oven. This gesture symbolizes his willingness to let Sydney into his world and build familiarity between them.

I really appreciate how the blocking in the scenes with Sydney and Carmy is so well done. Their conversations and arguments are choreographed in such a way that creates tension or intimacy. Even in the table scene, where there is no physical contact between them, the subtext is conveyed effectively through the clever use of dialogue, cinematography, and choreography.

Blocking is one of the things I look forward to analyzing in Summer of 2024!

Stay safe, everyone!

#sydcarmy #if I got some richonners here do you remember how rick touched michonne's arm and everyone freaked?#because touch establishes familiarity between two characters and their close relationship #carmy x sydney #carmy and sydney

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blushweddinggowns · 1 year

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But then she woke up the next day and nothing was better. She had slept till noon and by the time she came downstairs her mom let her know that she had two messages from Steve already.

Those were definitely getting ignored. At least for today.

She didn’t even know what to say to him. If her feelings for him weren't obvious to him before then they probably were now. Or he thought that she was a total homophobe which made her want to cry for a whole new reason.

You’re the first person I’ve ever actually told this too, because it just feels like I can trust you.

Nancy groaned at the memory. God, she had blocked that part out. He probably thought she hated him by now, but she didn’t. She couldn’t even be mad at him, not really. He didn’t do anything wrong. She was the one who didn’t want to see what was right in front of her. She didn’t know what to do. And when she didn’t know what to do she called Barb, but that wasn’t an option for this.

…was it?

No. It wasn’t. She shouldn’t tell her. She wouldn’t tell her. But then again…if she guessed on her own what had happened that didn’t really count right? And if there was anyone Nancy could trust it was her. She’d never say anything. She just wasn’t the type of person who would endanger someone’s life for petty gossip.

Plus Nancy needed to apologize anyway and it was time she took the verbal tongue whipping that she deserved for leaving her there last night. She called her, sighing when it went to voicemail. She knew she was awake by now and she was definitely home. God, she was even more pissed at her then she thought.

She spent the weekend sulking, while successfully avoiding Steve and leaving multiple I’m Sorry messages on Barb’s machine. But she wouldn’t be able to avoid her on Monday, she’d find her then.

But then her mom called her, crying. Barb had been missing since Friday. Which didn’t make any sense. Nancy was at their door within the hour, but they had nothing to tell her except that her car was gone and the police had been called. She even went back to Steve’s to look for her, her intense embarrassment suddenly felt like nothing in comparison to not knowing where he best fucking friend was.

But lucky enough for her he wasn’t there. And Barb’s car wasn’t there either. And Nancy could have sworn it had been when she started walking home. Hadn’t it? What had happened to her after she left?

Nancy was aware that breaking into Steve’s house to investigate was probably a bad idea. But it was his own fault for showing her where the hide-a-key was. It’s not that she thought that Eddie or Steve would do anything to Barb, but if she was crashing at his house she needed to know about it. But she didn’t find anything. She checked every room, she checked out back, but nothing. There weren’t even signs of a struggle. No blood, nothing that could indicate anything happened here.

But still…if Steve and Eddie were the last people to see her, she couldn’t just pretend that it didn’t matter. Against her better judgment she kept digging around, looking for anything that could help her figure out where she was. She was a little frazzled to say the least. Her best friend was missing and she was trespassing in her ex-crush’s house looking for.

She was lucky she even heard the front door open while she was rifling through Steve’s desk, immediately followed by his and Eddie’s voices.

Shit, shit, shit.

She could hear them coming up the stairs. Of course they were coming up the stairs, his room was upstairs and Nancy….really didn’t want to get caught doing whatever the fuck this was. Could she be blamed for hiding in the closet? God, what kind of hellish weekend was this?

Nancy held her breath as the two of them walked in. She couldn’t see much through the slants in the closet, but she could hear everything.

“Are you sure you left it here?” Eddie asked, “It might just still be at school.”

“I’m sure,” Steve answered while he shuffled around the room, “I had just finished it and put it back in the book before you came. Give me five minutes and I’ll find it. Just need to retrace my steps. Okay, Friday, I was studying before they came over. And then you happened and…”

She could hear him shuffle around the room before exclaiming, “Ha! Told you it was in here!”

“Why is it under the bed?”

Steve snorted, “Babe, ask yourself that question.”

“Okay whatever. You got me there. Nancy would be proud to know you were this dedicated to turning in homework.”

Steve sighed, “Please don’t say her name right now. I’m sad enough as it is. God, what if she already told Barb and they both hate us? I didn’t even get to say goodbye before they both left.”

“Oh Stevie…” Nancy could hear Eddie move to him, and then an unmistakable, wet kissing sound before he said, “I know this sucks, but it will be okay. You said it yourself right? Nancy’s not that kind of person to hate you over this. And if she is then we do what we always do, lie and move on.”

Steve sighed, “You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is that easy. Besides, you still got me don’t you?”

Another wet sound before Steve giggled, “Yeah. I do. Now let’s go home, this room is making me depressed.”

Nancy could almost cry from how relieved she was when she heard the door close, even if all of that was hard to hear. Though having to hear them kiss wasn’t exactly pleasant. And she…she didn’t want Steve to think she hated him. But she also couldn’t focus on that for right now. Because now she had proof that whatever happened to Barb had nothing to do with Steve and Eddie, thank god. She would still have to ask them about her, get all her bases covered, but she felt pretty damn confident that they had nothing to do with her going missing. Which meant if she told anyone about this stupid party the cops would waste all of their time questioning them while Barb was still gone. Hawkins police had been functionally useless for finding Will Beyers, what were they going to do with Barb? Less than nothing?

Well Nancy wasn’t going to let that stand. She was going to find her herself.

She just didn’t think she’d end up doing it with Johnathan Beyers of all people. Or that monsters turned out to be fucking real. Or that her little brother was involved. Or any of the insane shit that happened to her in the span of one week.

Honestly, in comparison to all of that Steve coming out to her really wasn’t that big a deal.

But him and Eddie showing up to the Beyer’s place to deliver condolence cookies sure fucking was. Though she had to admit, watching Eddie stab the monster in the back with the knife he kept in his shoe kinda made her more understanding on why Steve was so into him.

She hadn’t even thanked him, either of them for their help. She was too busy rushing to the hospital with Johnathan. Because if they found Will, then that meant that they found Barb, right?

And they had. Just not all of her. Joyce was the one who ended up telling her. And the one who held her while she sobbed.

Suffice to say, it was a pretty bad fucking week. It had been a few days since then and Nancy had spent most of it crying about Barb. She couldn’t even tell her parents because of the stupid NDA. Mike and Johnathan were too busy celebrating the fact that Will was alive to deal with her. She had never felt more alone in her life. She couldn’t tell anyone. She couldn’t talk to anyone-

Well…actually…she couldn’t talk to anyone who hadn’t been there. And even though they didn’t really know what was going on, Eddie and Steve had been there. If they haven't been forced to sign a shady NDA yet then they would be, and it had said nothing about discussing it with the people who already knew.

But Jesus, now she had to think about Steve. Steve, who didn’t care that she had been ignoring him. Steve and Eddie who still jumped into help save their asses, despite being completely in the dark. How was she even going to face them?

After everything that had happened, the whole gay thing felt so small. She could get over it, couldn’t she? And maybe her feelings for Steve hadn’t died completely yet, but they would if she tried right? Plus…as sad as it was, Steve was probably the closest living person to her at this point, even if they had only started getting close the past few months. She…missed him. Hell, she even missed Eddie.

She hadn’t talked to either of them since that day. But she wanted to. She just wasn’t sure if they would want to talk to her. It’s not like she had anything to give them to make up for getting them almost killed. Or for running away. And she did want to make it up to them. She just didn’t know how.

Unless…maybe there was something she could do after all.

I’m not some kind of casanova. I haven’t even had sex with a girl before. All of those dates never got past first, if that. But we needed a way to not be obvious so that’s how that happened.

Steve’s words rang in her head. Maybe it wasn’t a good call to offer up being a fake girlfriend to the guy she still technically liked, but it was something. And it would benefit Eddie too. Plus, she could probably save a few girls from some heartbreak while she was at it.

Okay, that was something. A plan was forming and plans always helped Nancy to feel like she was back in control. Now she just needed to go over there and apologize, explain everything that happened without crying, and offer up being a fake girlfriend as penance. That wasn’t so hard right? Plus it had the added benefit of getting her to move for the first time in two days.

She rode her bike over to the Harrington’s place, completely unsurprised when there were no cars. Steve had said it himself, this wasn’t where home was. Luckily she knew where the trailer park was. She didn’t know which one was Eddie’s but she did recognize Steve’s car parked out in front of it.

It took more than a few knocks for someone to answer the door, but she didn’t bike all around town for nothing. Though…it became pretty obvious pretty quickly that she had um, interrupted something when she came over. If the insane amount of hickies on both of their necks was anything to go by. But the conversation went well enough, of course it did. Both of them were understanding, maybe even understanding to a fault. And they had managed to make her laugh for the first time since she’d known Barb was missing. And both of them jumped right onto the fake dating idea. Eddie seemed especially relieved, he even promised to make her muffins for every other fake date they went on.

And just like that she had them back in her life. Thank fucking god. Nancy wasn’t the type of person who always needed to be surrounded by others to be okay. She liked being alone, honestly preferred it more than half the time, but she couldn't get through all of the shit they’d been through alone. She just couldn’t. And she didn’t have to, because Eddie and Steve were there for her every step of the way. Especially Steve.

It’s not that he took Barb’s place, no one could. But he quickly became the person she’d go to for…well. Everything. Talking about Barb, on the days she could without crying about it, complaining about her Dad and brother, or even dumb things like who she went to first when she heard a song she really liked. She didn’t think that everything would feel so easy with him after what had happened. But it did.

And while she was a lot closer to Steve, having Eddie around wasn’t too bad of a feeling either. He had a gift for lighting up any room he was in. Steve and Nancy actually shared a lot of the same interests and didn’t have many differing opinions, which just made it so much more fun when Eddie went against almost everything they said. He always kept things interesting, that was for sure.

But Steve just…understood her in a different way. A way that she needed. And if she could just forget about the whole My best friend fucking died for no reason thing for a second then she’d be doing pretty good right now. And also the small issue of I might still be in love with Steve thing.

That one was harder to ignore when she saw him nearly every day. And it made her feel sick. She didn’t want to feel like this. She didn’t want her heart to speed up every time he hugged her. She didn’t want to imagine a world where him holding her hand actually meant something. She didn’t want any of it, and she didn’t know what to do about it. There was nothing she could do. It was a lose-lose scenario.

For one thing, it was never going to happen. That became painfully clear after Eddie and Steve got the go-ahead that she was a safe person to be themselves around. They were…ugh. Disgustingly in love. And the more she learned about the truth in their relationship the more nails were hammered into the closed door of Steve and Nancy ever being together. Plus, she didn’t even want to be with him. Even if Steve magically fell in love with her tomorrow it would ruin Eddie. She couldn’t even fantasize about it because it just made her too damn sad. She wasn’t even sure Steve could be Steve without Eddie at his side.

Besides, if anything she likes seeing them in love, as weird as that was. But the two of them beat her parents out of the park as an example for what love could be. And she wanted that with someone who wanted her. And Steve was never going to be that person. So why hadn’t the feelings gone away?

They were worse when she was having a bad day. And today was an especially bad day. It had been a few months since Barb died. It was a Friday night and Nancy’s parents were gone for the weekend, Mike was at Will’s, and Steve and Eddie always did their own thing on Fridays.

No one had remembered what day it was. Or if they did, they didn’t care. March 26th. Barb’s birthday. Nancy didn’t tell anyone and she didn’t do anything besides sending flowers to her parents.. No one else in school knew. She didn’t even go, she allowed herself the small liencay of skipping, even if she was regretting it now.

Because she had had a strategy for dealing with Barb being gone. And that was keeping herself busy to the maximum extent possible. If she wasn’t studying her ass off she was doing an extracurricular, and if she wasn’t doing that then she was hanging out with Steve. And if she wasn’t doing that then she was busy trying to read everything Tolstov ever wrote. The busier she was, the less time she had to think. And the less time she had to think meant that her mind wouldn’t wonder to Barb, or how she died, or how alone she probably felt or how scared-

And her strategy was not working. At least not for today. Now she was back to where she was last year, crying alone in her room. Steve had called after school to check up on her and he seemed to believe the lie she put out about her period being particularly bad. It was good for no follow up questions at least. She would have the next 60 or so hours to be alone and miserable.

So why was there someone pounding on her door? Nancy groaned as she forced herself out of bed, yelling down the stairs, “Jesus, I’m coming!”

It had to be Dustin looking for Mike. It’s not like anyone wanted to see her. She didn’t even bother opening the door, she just yelled through it, “Mike is at Will’s house!”

Steve laughed nervously on the other side, “Well that’s good, because I’m pretty sure that kid hates my guts.”

Nancy’s eyes widened at the sound of his voice. She opened the door and there he was, sheepishly waving at her on her front stoop, "Hi? Can I um, come in?"

Nancy stepped aside to let him, quickly wiping at her face to hide any stray tears. She was pretty sure she looked like shit, but too little too late for that one.

She shut the door and turned to face him, suddenly feeling very awkward, “I thought tonight was date night?”

Steve shrugged, “Every night is date night if you try hard enough. Do you want to sit down or…?”

Nancy shook her head. What she wanted to do was get back to sulking, but she needed to figure out why he was even here before she could do that, “Steve, what are you doing here?”

Steve fidgeted in place and Nancy hated how adorable she thought it was, “Well you sounded weird over the phone and I was just worried I guess. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Or at least she would be fine after she was left alone to rot, like she deserved, “You don’t need to worry about me.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, “Nancy look, I know you can take care of yourself. But I just thought since it’s…well y’know.”

How would he…he couldn’t know. Could he? Nancy narrowed her eyes at him, “What are you talking about?”

Steve frowned, suddenly looking a bit more unsure of himself, “It’s Barb’s Birthday today right?”

Nancy stared at him, eyes wide, “H-How do you know that?”

Steve shrugged, “We um, talked about it once.”

“And you remembered?”

Steve cocked his head at her, “Of course I remember. We were having this whole debate about cars and then I asked what she’d want when she turned sixteen and she mention- Nancy? Are you okay?”

Nancy was not okay. She could feel the tears already welling up in her eyes. She thought…she didn’t think anyone remembered. Or cared but…Steve did. He hadn’t even known her that well. Which was fucking horrible because Barb would have loved him. She did love him, begrudgingly back when they barely knew each other. And Steve would have loved her. Because Barb was smart and funny and sweet like Steve and…and Nancy was crying. Like crying, crying. She was sobbing so hard it felt like an out of body experience.

She could feel herself sinking to the floor, hands covering her face as she wept. She hated crying in front of other people. She hated looking so weak and pathetic. She hated feeling like this. She was supposed to be better than this. Why did she even have to cry about? She wasn’t the one who was dead.

God, was this what a mental breakdown felt like?

She could barely hear the sound of Steve kneeling next to her over her own sobs, but she did feel it when he wrapped his arms around her, “Hey, hey, you’re okay. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re not alone.”

That just made her cry harder. Because she should have been alone. She deserved to be alone.

“No, you don’t Nancy. Don’t say shit like that.”

She hadn’t even realized she’d been talking out loud. Yep, this was definitely what a mental breakdown felt like. But Steve holding her was helping. He was even rocking her a little, murmuring reassurances in her ear the whole time.

It took awhile for her to calm down. She couldn’t even tell you how long it had been. But somehow Steve had gotten them off the floor and to the couch, an arm still around her shoulders as she sniffled.

She wiped at her face, a sea of emotions flowing through her. Grief, shame, longing, and all of it was fucking awful.

She couldn’t even look at Steve, “I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what came over me.”

“Nance, don’t apologize. You think I’ve never had a good cry session on the floor before? It’s normal.”

But it wasn’t normal for her, “You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”

“Why not? Nancy, your best friend died. What else are you going to cry over if not this?”

Even months later, hearing someone else say she died felt like a knife to her heart. Her eyes were already welling up again. Fuck it, she had already embarrassed herself to hell and back in front of him, why not a little more?

“I miss her. So much. Every day. And I can’t stop thinking, why her? What did she ever do to deserve this? And I can’t stop thinking if I hadn’t taken her to your house that night, would she still be alive? Is it my fault she’s dead? O-or am I just making her dying about me? And it makes me feel like I’m going crazy,” She was babbling, and she’d be shocked if Steve could even understand half of what she was saying through her shaking voice.

But Steve was listening to every word, patiently waiting as she got everything out before speaking, “Nancy, it’s not your fault she’s gone. And you’re not bad for thinking about what happened. I…I know there’s nothing I can say to fix this. But you're not a bad person because of what happened to her. And there was no reason. It was just fucked up and wrong and no one’s fault but the people in that lab.”

Nancy knew that he was right, even if it didn’t feel right. It still felt like her fault. And even if it wasn’t it didn’t take away the fact that she was gone. But…at least she wasn’t alone. She hadn’t even told him to come, but here he was anyway, all because he remembered her best friend’s birthday.

Because that was the kind of person Steve was. And she loved him for it. And he was handsome and kind and Nancy’s sense of self-preservation was at an all time low.

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, “I think I’m in love with you.”

She regretted saying it the second it was out there. She could feel Steve freeze up next to her. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Why had she said that? This. This right here was why she didn’t do vulnerable, because you say the dumbest shit imaginable. Shit that ruined friendships. What was Eddie going to think of her when he found out? He’d probably never talk to her again and now she put Steve in this horrible position and…God, why did she suck so much?

She looked up at him, near cringing at the shocked expression on his face, “Im so sorry Steve, that’s a terrible thing to say. Please don’t tell Eddie. I don't even know where that came from-”

Steve shook his head, shaking himself out of his surprised stupor. He smiled at her, aiming to comfort, “Hey, hey calm down, I’m not mad.”

But he should have been. Or at least Nancy thought he should, “Steve, I would never try to get in between you guys. You know that right? I’m just all fucked up and-”

“Stop apologizing. It’s okay. I get it Nancy. I do. But uh, I’m not sure you do.”

Nancy stopped, her third apology dying on the tip of her tongue, “What?”

Steve sighed, “Nance, I love you but I think you’re looking at me through some rose-colored glasses here, alright? We work because you have the friend version of me. I think a week with romantic Steve would have you running up a wall.”

That’s what he was focusing on?

“Huh?”

Steve bit his lip, struggling for the words before saying, “It’s just-and stop me if I’m totally wrong here, but I think that it’s not everyday a boy and a girl get as close as we did without the romance part. So it’s easy to get confused. I know you love me. But…I don’t think you’re in love with me. I think you think it would be easier if you were, but Nancy, I swear to you it wouldn’t be.”

This conversation had taken a weird turn. And it didn’t make any sense to her, “What are you talking about? Anyone would be happy to be with you Steve. Look at you!”

“Exactly!” Steve groaned, circling a hand around his face, “Look at me! Do you know the shit I put Eddie through on a daily basis?”

“What do you mean?” Nancy asked.

“I mean I’m a nightmare! First of all, he’s not even allowed to sleep at night without me. And I’ll like, koala cling to him. All night long. And it doesn’t stop in bed. If we’re alone, his lap is my home away from home.”

Nancy stared at him, gnawing on her lower lip as he talked, "You're exaggerating."

Steve shrugged, "You're right. Half the time he’s on mine. But it gets worse. Do you remember when I was gone for that tournament a few weeks back? It was maybe two days?”

She nodded.

“I called him eight times. And he picked up every single one of them. Because if he hadn’t, I would have obsessively called him until he had.”

Jesus Christ, that could not be healthy, “Are…are you serious?”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, equal parts embarrassed and determined, “Dead. And that’s not even top five in the clingy shit I do. Did you know there was a weekend I literally didn’t let him out of bed for like twelve hours? Or the fact that I��m responsible for like every class we’ve ever skipped because I drag him into some dark room to makeout?”

Steve may have been right about the rose-colored glasses. If he ever tried any of that with her she’d strangle him, “You guys do that?”

“We do worse. But I’m not trying to add to your trauma here. But think about it. You’re…you. You’re independent, you love having alone time, you like the quiet, you want people to ask before they hug you. And I love all of that, I do! I love that you’re so straight-foward. I love that you're all no nonsense, but…well…I’m all nonsense. God I don’t know what other way to say this but I’m a brat and believe me, you’d dump me in a few months, a year tops.”

She hated how true that was. But Steve was right, she knew he was right. She would never be able to handle someone being that clingy. She stopped sleeping with her stuffed animals when she was ten because they made her too hot, but a whole person, attached to her side every night and day? She’d die. And maybe…maybe that explanation cleared up all the confusion. Because she still didn’t actually want him before she knew all of that, out of guilt. But now…it was a little more than just that.

“But…” Steve trailed off for a second, before giving Nancy’s hand a light squeeze, “If I was straight, I’d love nothing more than to get my heart broken by you.”

Now Nancy was tearing up for a whole other reason. Maybe in love had been the wrong phrasing, but she really did love this guy. This strange, sweet, freak of a man.

She squeezed his hand back, “Promise me this won’t change anything?”

Steve shrugged, “I can’t promise that. I think it will change things, but for the better alright? No more secrets between us, yeah?”

Nancy nodded, with one small caveat, “But you still won’t tell Eddie right?”

Steve grinned before pulling her into another hug, “That you thought you were in love with me for five seconds? Never.”

Nancy pulled away first, wiping at her eyes again. They were actually sore from all the crying she’d done in the last couple of hours, “I feel like I should send him flowers for dealing with you now or something.”

“Well…if you wanted you could tell him that yourself. How about you come back to the trailer with me? You can be alone with us.”

Nancy laughed at that, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

"It kind of does though."

It really didn’t but Nancy didn’t care. She smiled at him, relaxed in a way she hadn’t felt in months,“Yeah, that sounds good.”

While she was happy she’d get to spend more time with Steve, she was more than a little nervous to see Eddie, especially since she was interrupting their night. Even though Steve insisted over and over again that it was more than fine. Best case he’d be begrudgingly accepting, and worst he’d be obviously annoyed. Nancy wasn’t sure which she preferred.

What she hadn’t expected was for Eddie to hug her right after she got in the door. Or better yet, ask before he did it.

“You get full movie picking privileges,” he announced right after. He looked her up and down, frowning to himself a little, “"Have you had dinner yet?"

"Um no but I’m okay-"

“But nothing. I could throw you like a football. You’re eating something.”

Steve snorted behind her, “Did you just get possessed by an Italian grandmother? He makes spaghetti one time-”

“And you loved it!”

Nancy smiled to herself as she watched them bicker. But there was no longing to go with it this time, she just felt…happy to be around them. And she did eat, just to shut Eddie up, the nag.

But she got him back. She was never going to let him live down the fact that he cried during Harold and Maude. She had them sit through all of her favorite movies, and by the third act of Valley Girl, they were both fast asleep.

Steve was leaning against her shoulder while Eddie was half draped over the armrest, snoring in what looked like one of the most uncomfortable positions possible. She leaned back into the couch with a sigh as the movie played, her eyes slipping closed on their own. And for the first time in a long time, Nancy knew that she was going to be okay.

Part 1 Part 1.5 Part 2

The end! At least for the Nancy POV. Everything from this little series was from this fic, and I might post more snippets if it can be relatively short for tumblr styling. This honestly isn't that short but I didn't want to split it in two so here we are!

@northa @dustcommander @attic-cat-blog @dinosareawesome2137 @obsessivlyme @fuckign-uh-hi

@a-little-unsteddie @ghost--enthusiast @jestyzesty @missarte-beltane

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