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unclewaynemunson · 6 months

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Pt2 to this post

'Is something wrong?' Nancy asks, not long after the two of them have taken their familiar spots on the hood of Steve's car. They're basking in what might be the last warm sunlight of the year, looking out over the quarry, at a safe distance from the edge.

It's become a tradition the two of them share, ever since they reconnected back in March. It calms them both, to just sit here and take in the view, no one around but each other. Nancy is one of the few people Steve can share a comfortable silence with: sometimes they sit here quietly for what feels like hours, side by side, listening to music or to nothing but the birds singing around them. But they also have their best conversations here: it's the place where Nancy entrusted him she wanted to break up with Jonathan; it's the place where they talked about their shared past and decided they would always love each other as friends; it's the place where they finally talked about Barbara in a way they couldn't when they were younger. It's where Nancy talked about the ghosts still haunting her and Steve talked about how lonely he sometimes felt.

Steve huffs. 'How did you guess?'

'When you frown, you always do it with your whole face,' Nancy notes. 'So it's hard to miss, really.'

Steve glances at her side profile. There's a serenity to her features that's still relatively new. It means she's healing, slowly learning how to be happy again. It means she stopped waiting for the end of the world and started believing in a real future again. It makes Steve proud of how far they both have come.

'I had a fight with Eddie,' he confesses. 'And with Dustin, I guess.'

'What happened?'

He sighs. 'It's complicated.'

'Wanna tell me about it?'

The look in her eyes is kind and inviting. Steve hesitates. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. It's a risk. It's scary.

But he can't imagine Nancy Wheeler ever being careless with his secrets. He can't imagine her judging him, can't imagine her being as small-minded as most people in this town.

He was planning on telling her anyway, because things had been going so well with Eddie lately and – no, he shouldn't think about that right now. But maybe it would actually be nice to talk about it with Nancy.

'So, um...' His throat feels tight and his hands are sweaty. 'I recently discovered some things about myself. I-' The words get stuck somewhere on the way to his mouth, and he clears his throat.

Nancy doesn't push, but only gives him an encouraging nod, waiting for him to find his voice again.

'I found out I like boys,' he finally manages to confess. 'And I need you to know that – that that doesn't mean that what I felt for you wasn't real. It was. I loved you, and now I fell in love with a boy. And-'

'Steve.' Nancy's hand suddenly covers his, causing him to finally jerk his head away from the view over the quarry, to focus on her face again instead.

Her eyes are wide, and she squeezes his hand.

'You don't have to explain yourself to me,' she tells him. 'We're good. But thank you for telling me. For trusting me with this.'

Steve heaves out a relieved sigh, and Nancy smiles; it's that genuine kind of smile which reveals all kinds of dimples and soft lines across her face.

'We might be more similar than you thought,' she tells him, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks.

'Really?' Her words make his breath catch in his throat. He squints at her, trying to see her in this new light. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

She shrugs. 'I don't know. I'm not sure yet,' she admits. 'Still figuring things out.'

'Take your time, there's no rush,' he tells her. 'But...' He bumps his shoulder against hers. 'When you're done figuring it out, talk to me, okay?'

She nods. 'Okay.'

For a while, it's quiet between the two of them. Some kind of raptor circles high above them in the sky. They both follow it with their eyes until it disappears among the tree tops west of the quarry.

'Is it Eddie?'

Steve blinks dumbly a couple of times.

'Wha- what?'

'The guy you were talking about. The one you fell in love with. It's Eddie, isn't it?'

'Jesus, Wheeler, what kind of sorceress are you?' Steve exclaims.

Nancy laughs again. 'You're not being as subtle as you think,' she tells him. 'The two of you have been hooking up for a while now, haven't you?'

Steve huffs dramatically. 'This is unfair. You know everything; I can't even tell you my own secrets anymore!'

'So what happened?' Nancy asks. 'You said you had a fight with him?'

'It's fucking stupid,' he sighs. 'Dustin was getting way too excited about the fact that I was gonna be hanging out with you, so I told him I was seeing someone. Next thing I knew, he was telling Eddie all about how I was seeing a girl.' He waves his hands around to make annoyed air quotations. 'I wanted to tell Eddie it was a misunderstanding, but Dustin was there, so I couldn't out us just like that, and he looked so betrayed and heartbroken... He didn't wanna listen to me.'

Steve sighs; he still can't manage to forget that look in Eddie's eyes when Dustin delivered the big news. 'I wish I would've talked about what I felt for him earlier. I should've been honest when I had the chance, y'know. But I was afraid he wouldn't wanna label what we had, that he wouldn't feel the same way – and now we're in this whole mess. God, he must hate me right now, Nance.'

To his surprise, Nancy gives him an unexpected slap against his arm.

'Ouch, what the hell was that for?!'

'What are you even doing here with me, Steve? You should've gone after him, tell him how you feel!'

'I tried, obviously, but he didn't wanna listen to me!'

'So make him listen! You're in love with him, he obviously feels the same way about you, and you let him leave to wallow in a broken heart he doesn't even need to have!' She rolls her eyes and slides off the car, adding something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like an exasperated 'Boys!' before she pulls Steve off the car as well. 'C'mon, time to get your ass over to the trailer park. Right. Now,' she says through gritted teeth. And, well, Steve knows better than to argue with a determined - and truthfully quite terrifying - Nancy Wheeler.

Read the last part here Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx (I only put people on this list who explicitly asked to be tagged. That's really no problem, I love to do that so dw about asking, but I got a lot of relatively vague reactions to the previous post that i'm not gonna dissect and interpret, bc I don't wanna clog anyone's notes unwanted. So just to be clear: i consider it a huge compliment if anyone asks for a tag but please do it clearly if you do!)

#look i can and i will exploit the miscommunication trope until yall are sick and tired of it #bc steddie is actually the perfect couple for keeping that trope believable #they're idiots with terrible communication skills it's canon #they WOULD #“can't you just talk to him?” “wait what i can????” IT'S SO THEM OKAY #nancy is the only sane person here i don't make the rules #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #platonic stancy #(i love platonic stancy they mean the world to me)#(i truly didn't mean to trick anyone into reading about them this just kinda. happened. idk)#this is making me wanna write more about their friendship actually they deserve their own fic #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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imfinereallyy · 1 year

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Eddie’s on the couch shirtless, and Steve is having a full-on crisis.

Eddie’s bare chest is on full display on Robin and Steve’s couch, and Steve is having a full-blown, how did this not click til now, crisis.

Steve knows he’s staring. Knows he needs to stop staring. Eddie is going on a rant to them, something about society or something metal (he got distracted when Eddie whipped his shirt off), and Steve should really pay attention because he knows Eddie is going to quiz him after.

For someone who hates school so much, Eddie sure likes to test Steve.

Robin comes up behind Steve, slurping her slushy. “Oh no. I know that face. It finally caught up to you, didn’t it?”

Steve breaks his state to give Robin a wide-eyed look. “What—how—I—“ Steve’s shoulders sag; there is no point in hiding from Robin. “How’d you know?”

“Please, babe, I’ve been waiting. Glad to know you actually sped-run this. Was thinking you were going to pull a me and wait til Jenny Rodriguez asks to practice the stage kiss with you before you realized.”

“I have so many questions.”

“Don’t bother; nothing happened except me falling off the stage at rehearsal.”

Steve laughs but then chokes when he glances back at Eddie. “I think my brain just exploded, Robs. What do I do?”

Robin pats his back sympathetically, “There, there. Nothing you can do, bud. Just got to ride the gay thoughts wave.”

Steve makes a distressed noise. Robin rubs circles on his back.

Eddie interrupts their moment (clueless to the evident lesbian bisexual solidarity happening), “So what do you guys think? Should I get the sword here?” Eddie drags his hand slowly down his sternum.

“I need you to take it back.” Steve whips his head torwards Robin.

“Take it back?”

“The crisis, take it back.” Steve all but begs Robin.

“Sorry, there is a no refund policy. You can use it or push it to the side; it’s up to you. But either way, that baby is yours.” Robin uses her straw to emphasize her point.

Eddie tilts his head confused, “Uuuh guys? The tattoo?”

Steve waits a moment before responding. “Good.”

“I’m going to need more than that Stevie.”

“Good. Will look good on you. Anything looks good on you.” Steve has to resist shoving his face into his hands. He can feel the rush of heat up to his cheeks.

Eddie’s face breaks into a brilliant, and a little smug, smile. “Awe, thanks, sweetheart. Glad to know I got the Harrington approval.”

“You don’t need my approval to look good.” Steve was going to throw himself off the roof of their apartment. That didn’t even make any sense.

Eddie snorts, “Okay big boy. Whatever you say.”

It comes off flirtier than Steve thought a sarcastic comment could be. This time instead of responding, Steve just caves into the embarrassment, turns around, and starts lightly thumping his head into the wall.

“Eddie, c’mon, you broke him! Now I’m going to have to reboot him…again.”

Steve doesn’t see his face but doesn’t have to look to know that Eddie’s face is downright giddy. “Sorry.”

Steve doesn’t think he’s very sorry at all.

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munsonfamilyband · 1 year

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I’ve been on a Soulmates kick today and just saw a fic where Steve has two marks - one for Robin and one for Eddie. And it’s got me thinking.

Of course, he doesn’t know who his marks are for. He only knows that they’re two people because they look so different. Soulmarks show up where you and your soulmate will have the first skin-skin contact, and they have the words they will say when that happens written in their handwriting.

Steve has one covering his palm, the handwriting is small and sharp, all angles and no rounded edges. That one says “Steve, we need to run”. It seems scared, the wording, but he refuses to think about it. The other mark he has is covering his left hip, curling like someone was holding him from the side. This handwriting is completely different from the other one and is best described as chicken scratch. It’s big and messy, letters flowing into each other like the writer didn’t even pick up their pen between each stroke. That one says “I got you, just lean on me”. It seems less scared but there’s concern laced in the words that helps Steve feel less alone when he’s laying in bed late at night. That’s the only time he ever lets himself think about his soulmates, during the day he avoids it like the plague. His parents are soulmates and they barely speak, so soulmates can’t be all they’re cracked up to be. After Nancy never makes one of his marks tingle and burn he tries to give up on the idea entirely, figuring he can go on without a soulmate and be with Nancy - but then she breaks his heart and those late nights are all he has.

His first soulmark changes when he’s stuck underneath Starcourt mall the summer after he graduated. He had been working with a girl, Robin, who barely tolerated him on a good day and now she’s been sucked into his shitty world. When the alarms go off in the bunker he barely has a second to react before Robin is grabbing his hand and yelling at him, “Steve, we need to run!” His feet start moving and he yells back for her to be careful with his arm, even as he feels the tingling burn cover his palm and in that supply closet, leaning against the door next to Robin they make eye contact. In that short second of connection he knows that she felt it to, that he’s just found his soulmate and despite his fear he’s so happy that it’s her. Later, after they had both puked up their guts and he had confessed to having a crush on her, Robin told him about Mrs. Click’s class and Tammy Thompson and how she’s sorry that he’s stuck with a soulmate who can never love him back. Steve blinks and suddenly his two soulmarks make so much more sense.

“Robin, I have another soulmark. I don’t… I don’t think you were ever a romantic soulmate for me.” He watches the relief and, maybe even, joy cover her face and she launches herself at him in a hug, squeezing him tight and he returns the favor completely ignoring his own pain.

The other soulmate comes over 8 months after meeting Robin. He was so grateful for having her in his life but he still wanted that other piece, he loved Robin and she loved him but he wanted romantic love too. Unfortunately for Steve, just like with Robin, his other soulmark was triggered when he was fearing for his life. He had just been dragged through Watergate and made into a chew toy for a bunch of demobats. Steve was just trying to catch his breath when they all heard the bigger hoard approaching and he knew he had to run. He made it surprisingly far before the pain of each step started to settle in, his feet dragging more and more and his pace slowing when someone moved in beside him, wrapping one arm around his back to settle his hand on his hip. Eddie grabbed the arm closest to him and dragged it over his shoulders, giving Steve a grin. “I got you, you can lean on me.” This only made Steve completely trip; the sudden onset of tingling burning at his side so close to his currently bleeding wounds had his left leg collapsing under his weight.

“Why does this always happen when I’m in danger?” Eddie froze and then a laugh burst forward.

“That makes so much sense with context. C’mon let’s get you somewhere to sit and we can talk more when you’re not bleeding over me.”

When he and Eddie got to Skull Rock, he and Robin made eye contact and he watched her eyes flit down to where Eddie’s hand was on his side. Her eyes grew about three sizes and he just shot her the best grin he could. He didn’t care that he had been bleeding all over his soulmate for the past few minutes - he had gotten blood on Robin when they found out that they were soulmates, so it seemed fitting for him to be doing the same to Eddie.

Years down the road he would look back and laugh at the drama surrounding him finding both of his soulmates. Eddie even joked that the universe gave him two to make up for his shitty parents, and Steve wasn’t going to argue.

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #platonic stobin #is this coherent? idk #it’s like 2 am and i really only had power naps last night (aka two sessions of about 1.5hrs)#i’m just feeling Emotional about steve having both of his soulmates #i started reading the fic i mentioned at the top and left to write this because the idea of steve and robin finding out that #theyre soulmates in that russian bunker? punched me in the face

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ilybigman · 3 months

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i forgot to post this tumblrheads i'm so sorry. ANYWAY. TWO HATS PAGE. THEYMAKE ME SO SO SICK

(once again, appreciated if u don't tag as ship!)

#isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #isat #in stars and time #game: in stars and time #loop #siffrin #isat fanart #in stars and time fanart #ouygjgtjggtttt they makeme normal #shoutout to this one person in my tags who said they only tag sifloop as platonic #you're so real you understand me #(that was on my 'cutie patootie stardust!' gif)#i'd go in depth but i don't need to <:) i appreciate no one tagging it as ship so far. love you all #okay i'm done yapping enjooyyy ✨

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lovesickeros · 8 months

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☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #imposter au #focalors #furina #neuvillete #a family can be a dragon an archon and his 300 other children who reverse adopted him #u date him its a package deal sorry #u now have like 300 children g-dspeed #also tagged spoilers on neuvi's part bc its kinda a spoiler??? sort of #also this can be read as platonic or romantic on neuvi's part #can u tell i like focalors btw :)#also gonna be swapping between focalors/furina bc SOMEONE sent me a theory and it sent me spiraling im gonna be ill #u know who u r and ur days r numbered #can be read as romantic between reader & neuvi but only bc i know focalors rubs it in his face she found the actual creator first #anyway can u tell focalors is my fav pt2 i wont shut up abt her its terminal atp #focalors..................#anyway *doesnt post fr months. randomly drops a 2k word fic. leaves and doesnt elaborate*#starts out v serious ends v silly #wrote this in one sitting im gonna go pass out now gn

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privateolives · 4 months

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This is probably because I grew up watching 24/7 animal planet, but what finally made the allo/aplatonic thing click for me were the nature's of big cats.

Lions are powerful, regal creatures who are uniquely adapted to pack life. They need these connections to live a healthy life; A lonely lion is a miserable creature indeed.

Jaguars are solitary, beautiful creatures who live happily solitary. They prowl their lush world with self-sufficient majesty. A jaguar is not lonely without a pack. In fact, forcing jaguars to share space with others they do not enjoy is just as damaging as forcing a lion to live alone.

A lion may choose to head out on it's own for the most part, but in the end must return to the pack to thrive. A jaguar can choose to trust and enjoy the company of others, but they never feel the need to form a pack.

Is a jaguar selfish for this? A psychopath, a narcissist or any other such horrid assumptions? Is it a less moral creature than a lion, who seeks others like it to thrive?

Is a lion pathetic, or needy, or selfish for wanting community? For requiring contact with others like they require water? For their inherent need to string complicated webs of relationships that may seem silly or dramatic to others?

Of course not. These are ridiculous questions to even ask.

They are simply lions and jaguars.

In fact, is a jaguar that chooses to spend time with you not as magical as a lion's love? For a creature that needs no bond to thrive to still enjoy your presence enough to share it a time? Is a lion who can prowl the night alone not impressive in its strength and resilience? Is it not awe-inspiring in its ability to conquer a life it was never wired for and reign still?

Are they not both beautiful and awe-inspiring in their own ways, without being wrong?

Alloplatonics. Aplatonics. Are we not both special and beautiful in both our bonds and self-confident happiness equal, in each our ways? Is there not unique beauty in lifelong bonded packs and magical encounters that need no perpetuity to carry life forward?

Are we not but lions and jaguars? Neither wrong, neither selfish, but just different and beautiful creatures in each our ways?

That's how I've come to see it, anyway.

#lgbt #aspec #lgbtqa+#asexual #aromantic #aroace #loveless #aplatonic #alloplatonic #animals #I woke up at like 3 in themmorning to write this so I apologise for weird wording #I'm not awake enough to go hunting for the videos but if you want to see more about the equal majesty and difference in cats bonding #I suggest looking up Kevin Richardson's work with lions and panthers #I love animals. I hope I didn’t come off as degrading to anyone by using them as comparison #I can assure you the association only carries the deepest respect from me.#anyway all the aro discourse floating about made me think of this issue again #and how explaining allo/a-platonic needs has been a difficult task in the past #you're all valid no matter your labels or shapes or spots or manes #remember that when an orientation you don't understand comes to the lgbtable your job isn't to test them #it's to make room

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bones-aa · 11 months

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Yan!MIGUEL O'HARA (platonic)

warnings; obv possessiveness, creepy shit, Miguel 'feral' O'hara.

i just watched ATSV and I am OBSESSED with the thought of Miguel being this overprotective dad for a spider-kid. so here's a lil oneshot for you :))

Obviously SPOILER WARNING FOR ATSV, so shoo shoo if you haven't watched the movie

Miguel watched you, it's wrong but he had been watching over you since he had first asked you to be in the spider society. He watched you as you strolled through the Spider-society, laughing as Hobie told you a joke, your smile. it was warm and wide, your laughs could easily melt anyone's heart. And it melted his cold, hurt heart. He felt protective of you, how a father would for his child.

And ever since, Miguel felt protective and he obsessed over you. From your health, to how you were doing, things he would normally never care about. Especially when it came to teens, usually he would leave it up to Jessica to deal with the younger spiders. But with you, he felt like he had to protect you. And that he did.

When he first found you hurt on a mission, he felt something snap, it was as if he was possessed. He tore into the villain as if they were nothing.

Ever since then , you couldn't see him the same, every time you saw him you hid. You noticed how he changed around you, the amount of times that he had benched you because of some minor injury that wasn't even related to the missions he sent you on. Miguel became suffocating.

He noticed it, he noticed how meek you were around him. Your sunshine personality toned down around him as you timidly bowed your head around him. You were the closest thing to a child he had, ever since he let his daughter slip through his fingers. There was no way he would let you do the same.

This time was no different, he had called the 5 of you down to his space for a mission briefing.

"Fuck, I really don't wanna go." You whined as the hologram of him went back down in your watch. "I mean, we can ditch if you want. Y'know I'm down." Hobie said as he shoved his hands into his vest.

"Ughhh, I've missed like 3 of his dumb meetings, Jess said if I didn't want to get kicked out of this society I'd have to attend this one." Hobie shrugged.

"And? The entire point of being a spider-person is so that you could do anythin' you want. So fuck him, let's ditch that prick, alright?"

You laughed but then sighed, your shoulders sagging. You were going through something similar to what Gwen was going through. Your parents had found out that you were the spider-person in your dimension, when Miguel had found you, you were on the bridge of getting thrown in prison for being a vigilante.

He took you in, and your were stuck in HQ's dormitory for the time being. You were terrifed that the moment you went back home you were going to get thrown out on the streets or arrested by your dad.

"You know why I can't just ditch." You said, Hobie nodded. "Right, yeah I forgot. Sorry you can't just stay at my place, Gwendy took the only other shitty mattress I have."

"Eh, don't worry about it." You said as you kicked the non-existent gravel away. "Where are the others?"

"Oh, they're just finishin' up some mission, said that they're coming a little later." Hobie said as they got to what Hobie called Miguel's 'cave'.

"Y'know what lil' spider, Imma get goin', can't stand that knob right now." You rolled your eyes at that nickname as he ruffled your hair. He walked away, giving you a two fingered salute. "Yeah, yeah, what a great friend you are for abandoning me."

"You'll survive mate, you're tough like me." he says as he disappears into the brightly colored portal. You grumbled to yourself as the portal closed behind you.

"Tough my ass, god I hate that British asshole sometimes." You grumbled some more, you fiddled with your watch a little before a small hologram of Jessica pops up. "Heeeey Jessy-"

"Oh so you finally decided to show up hm?" You wince slightly at the tone and laughed it off awkwardly. "Harsh, but, valid. Sorry for missing all those briefings Jess, can you let me in...?"

You saw as the hologram sighed and the giant doors open, a gust of wind hitting your face. You sputtered a little before walking into the cold room, you walked up to the intimidating Spider-woman and grinned sheepishly at her.

"Finally listened to me, the threat worked right?"

"Oh yeah, definitely, scared the shit outta me." You nodded aggressively as you said it, Jessica let out a little laugh. "I was kidding by the way, Miguel would've murdered me if I kicked you out." She whispered as she walked up towards the platform as it descended.

You shivered. murder. You always heard, at least in your time at the spider-society, that superheroes never killed. But what you saw, what he did, it was burned into your head.

"Where are the others." Miguel's deep voice boomed, interrupting your thoughts. "We sent Pav, Miles and Gwen on a mission, they said that they would be here in a few minutes aaaand Hobie...?" Jessica turned to you.

"Oh!- Oh right uhm he said he didn't wanna come." You trailed off, Miguel sighed and muttered a few curses under his breath. "Y/n, you can inform him of the mission right?"

"Totes! Ahem I mean, totally yeah." You coughed, you felt as your face heated up. You wanted to curl up and die right there and there, why couldn't a portal open up below you and transport you literally anywhere else.

Miguel on the other hand thought you were adorable, how embarrassed you looked as you tried to hide behind Jessica. He wanted to scoop you up there, hold you close to him. He had to be patient.

"Alright," The platform finally descended down to the ground, allowing Miguel to walk down and near you. Yay, the last thing you wanted. He easily towered over you, his hulking mass of muscles were intimidating.

"You're not going on the mission." He says after he stares at you.

"...What?!" You exclaimed, earning a confused look from Jessica as well. "Right, we need all of them for this particular mission. Miguel, what are you talking about?"

"I've made up my mind, take Ben with them." He says to Jessica, his tone firm. Jessica wants to speak out but she shuts her mouth, walking out to talk to Ben.

"I- wait, no this is wrong, I've been benched for the past 3 fucking weeks-"

"Language."

"What?- That doesn't matter, just listen to me." You practically begged him. He let out a long sigh as he walked away, you followed behind him. "I swear I won't do anything reckless on this mission, I haven't been on a mission with my friends in too long. I'm missing on things."

"It doesn't matter, mi hija, it's too dangerous." He slightly turns his head. You scoff. "What, you think I'm not strong enough? I'm as much a spider-person as any other fucking spider-people in this society."

"LANGUAGE." He turns around sharply, fangs bared as he yelled at you. You flinched backwards, stumbling a little at the harshness of his voice.

"Mierda- sorry, I didn't mean to-" He says, you were backing away from him, memories from that night came back again. "Sorry for scaring you, I didn't mean to hm?" He tried going closer to you, he could see the fear in your eyes, how you cowered from him.

"Please don't look at me like that." Now he was begging you. He stalked closer to you, grabbing onto your arms harshly bringing you closer to him.

"N-No, stay back. You killed- you killed that man I-" You were hyperventilating, you couldn't catch your breath as the memories came back.

"He hurt you, I did it to protect you." He muttered darkly, but it still had an eerie hint of softness behind his words. He admitted it, he fucking admitted it. "And this, this is also to protect you, you'll understand in time, kid."

You were too busy struggling to notice what he wanted to do, he barred his fangs again and bit your neck, you gasp sharply at the sudden pain in your neck, you felt the feeling in your upper body start to lose control. You fell limp in his arms, you could feel him brush your hair from your face.

"I'm doing this to protect you, every time you come back from missions with injuries my heart aches." Miguel says as he brushes away the tears from your cheek. "That's why I've benched you, I can't lose you, you're mine."

You looked up at him as he looked back down at you lovingly, it was sickening. You couldn't move, the pain from the bite was throbbing as you felt yourself being lifted up. You felt small as his figure dwarfed you as he stood up, cradling you to his chest.

"I'll protect you, no matter what it takes." He whispers into your hair.

A/n: Ok this got out of hand, I am extremely inspired though I might make a follow up to this :))

we love a crazy dad around these parts, also hi i didn't die, i'm back with a new obsession teehee

#yandere platonic #platonic yandere #yandere #yandere miguel o'hara #x gn reader #yandere spiderverse #parental yandere #pls forgive me for being quiet for so long #only to come out with random shit #also #this shit is not proofread sorry for any mistakes in this

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houseswife · 4 months

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something I love about hilson is that (at least within the show), nobody ever tried that “they have a brotherly bond” BS. because pretty much every queercoded pairing from that era has said something along the lines of “you’re like a brother to me”. but not them!! they were always like “yeah I’m violently attracted to you and think we should fuck…./srs.” yes they were repressed but at least they were REAL about it

#it would’ve been SO easy for them to play off their ‘more than platonic’ dynamic as a brotherly thing. but they never did #a lot of the sacrifices they make for one another are things you would only do for family #but the show was consistently like ‘yeah they are family! in the sense that they’re married and desire each other carnally.’#it’s so refreshing after my destiel phase fighting off the ‘ur like a brother to me cas’ allegations 😔😔#house md #hilson #house/wilson #gregory house #james wilson #greg house #hatecrimes md #edit: the incest freaks found this. stay AWAY from me

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lycheeloving · 4 months

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more fake texts :)

Dad to the rescue!

#sorry only long covid posting rn bc I'm daydreaming about people carrying me all day lol walking is seriously fucking me up..#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere dc #yandere batman #yandere #yandere!batfam #yandere!batfamily #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #x reader #reader insert #lycheewritings #platonic yandere #yandere texting

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nburkhardt · 9 months

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Steve’s actual favorite pastime is coloring.

Buys any sort of coloring book and sits at his desk with crayons or coloring pencils. Sometimes even paint.

Before everything it was to ease stress from the pedestal people keep him on. It was for those weird feeling he gets over phone calls with his parents.

After everything it was to escape his mind, to ease his heart from beating too much. It was there to remind himself of the beauty in life. To see simple things, to try and erase all the ugly memories.

He keeps it to himself, loves that it’s his thing and the peace he gets from it is so calming.

But the only person to find out about this is Robin. She couldn’t sleep after Starcourt and had to be near him, just to make sure he’s still there, that the Russians didn’t take him away. So, she breaks in and finds him sitting in his bedroom at the desk with his stack of coloring books, his pencils and crayons around him.

She watched his face go through all the emotions and before he can even open his mouth, she just asks “Anything with animals? Do you have pastels?”

For a few short seconds, she thought he’d deny it and figure out something to get her to forget. But instead of that he grabs a book, pushes things around and gave a hesitant smile at her.

From then on, Steve’s quiet time is Steve and Robin’s quiet time.

They buy each other books, finds new coloring supplies, argue over which page is better.

They spill secrets on dirty bathroom floors, laugh with tears streaming down their cheeks but during this? They’re listening to music on low, trade stories in hushed tones, humming along as they color in books.

It’s theirs and it’s Steve favorite thing.

Oh this got a little longer then I thought. It was just a silly thing that took a tiny turn. (Still v short I know)

A tag list under the cut 🫡

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @bookworm0690 @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz

Oh and btw, i’m a little high and currently coloring and this popped up in my head. Also also I got SCENTED MARKERS today and and RETRACTEABLE ONES!!! I’m v excited ☺️

#Steve Harrington #Robin Buckley #stobin fic #platonic stobin #stobin #stranger things #nburkhardt writes #they are everything to me #Steve is an artist and no one can tell me otherwise #also also Robin dresses with loads of darks but LOVES to color with pastels only

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 4 months

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Thank you all for voting in the poll to decide who was going to be the leader of the band! It turned out to be such a close race!

#poorly drawn mdzs #better drawn mdzs #mdzs #madam lan #A-qing #Band AU #(Reminder that Madam Lan's design inspiration goes to Qourmet!)#Madam Lan may have been the winner per vote count but there were so many strong advocates for A-Qing!#I played around with a few versions of what the 'poll winner' art was going to be and ultimately decided I wanted them both.#As any good theater love knows though - The battle for leadership was a ruse. They *all* get a chance to be featured.#Cooperation was the real end goal! However I do think these two have the best frontman energy of the group.#Or at least 'crowd favourite' energy. I also really loved hearing what people thought their vocal styles would be like!#This was probably one of my favourite polls to do and I love drawing these characters a lot B*)#I'd love to spend a bit more time in this AU so count on me bringing it back.#One thing I keep feeling like I need to redeem myself on is Madam Lan's Translucent skirt. I have *not* done the concept justice yet.#It is such a crack-platonic ship but I want to think Madam Lan and A-Qing would enjoy each other's company.#Possibly also with JYL as well. They can be like mutually beneficial therapy dogs to each other.#Madam Lan never got to see her kids grow up into teenagers after all. She only had sons. Never daughters.#Even if she saw her kids once a month we do know she treated them with so much love and kindness.#She would bite the shit out of YZY for yelling at JYL. What a sight to see. A-Qing would also start biting (for fun).

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stevebabey · 3 months

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steve harrington but it's that jeff winger moment from community. if u have seen community, u will know... my first stobin-centric piece <3 tw for parental neglect and a prior act of self-harm. this is absolutely on the steve harrington has bad parents train <3

“Steven, this is ridiculous.”

Robin freezes in place. Her hand hovers over the remote she's just placed back down, her limbs locking up one by one at the sound of the voice at the door.

It is not a familiar voice. She knows who it is all the same.

She fights not to move, knowing the couch springs, old and rusted, threaten to reveal her hiding place, even if it is her house. Robin is very much allowed to be here. Expected, even.

But Steve? Steve is not.

It’s why there’s one Christine Harrington on the dingy porch steps.

It’s an unwelcome surprise — even after all the fuss of the 4th of July, a thousand police sirens, endless NDAs, and too much blood on his uniform, Steve’s parents hadn’t shown.

Out of town, Steve had said, his bashed in face making it impossible to read his expression. His eyes were haunted and misty but Robin couldn’t tell if it was from the horror of the night or… a loneliness far older.

So Robin had done the fussing. Had dragged him home with her, shooed away her rightfully nosy parents, and mended him up on her bathroom counter.

Steve had been silent, a little wide-eyed as she worked on each cut, each bruise — but with her gentle touch, he had been helpless to do anything but melt beneath it.

He’d called her Robbie for the first time that night. They’d fallen asleep with their hands intertwined, her arm hanging off the bed to reach out to him on her bedroom floor.

Robin still hasn’t met Steve’s parents, even though it’s been more than a couple months since that night.

She’s been to his house countless times too. She knows where the spare key is, if she ever loses her own copy, that is. Knows which stair squeaks on the way up to the second floor and how the lock on the downstairs bathroom gets jammed too easily.

She’s eaten the best grilled cheese of her life in their kitchen, sitting on the counter.

She’s laughed so hard she’s cried on their couch, getting the throw pillows wet with her happy tears.

She’s still never met Steve’s parents. Til right now.

Christine Harrington has her arms wrapped tight around her frame and Robin has no doubt that on her face is a frown that could make babies cry.

She can’t see her face though. Can only just see a glimpse of her tense body from where she sits. Steve blocks part of her view, his own tense frame in the doorway.

He’d answered the door instead of Robin only because he had the foresight to glance at the front window after the first rap at the door. It was late. Robin’s parents certainly wouldn’t knock at their own home and neither of them were expecting visitors.

The expensive car in the drive, a sore thumb along Robin’s street, had given away the identity of just who was knocking so late in the evening. So, Steve had opened it.

“Mom—”

“I mean utterly ridiculous.” Steve gets cut off without second thought, Christine continuing on as if she hasn’t heard him at all.

“Did you expect us to spend all evening chasing you around? Figuring out where you were tonight from the Carlton’s across the road?”

She’s got this snippy tone that Robin’s heard a thousand times from teachers. Patronising. Too cold for it to seem like a genuinely concerned parent.

“The Carlton’s?” Steve echoes, a bit meek. His shoulders have rolled forward, sinking down a bit and Robin can see his tight grip on the door. Still, she stays frozen, rooted to the couch.

“Yes, Steven.” Christine says his full name again, all bite. “Imagine the shame your father and I felt hearing that. Hearing who you had been associating with.”

“Don’t say that.” Steve grits out immediately, anger bleeding into his tone.

The muscles in his back ripple as he forces his shoulders back, as if he had remembered how to stand up straight at the mention of his friend.

Robin aches; at the reminder of the stark differences of their upbringings and at Steve’s unquestionable loyalty. She finally unfreezes, sitting up a little straighter and leaning forward more— ready to spring up from her seat.

She’s not sure what for exactly. She sorta really wants to go slam the door on Steve’s mom’s face and go back to being bundled up on the couch with him. The urge is strong enough to make her fingers twitch.

“Why are you here, Mom?”

There’s a strain to Steve’s question, even though he doesn’t falter in appearance. Robin can’t see his face either though. She hopes it’s got the bitchiest expression Steve can muster.

“Don’t be smart, Steven.” Christine reprimands coldly. “I know that we may have taken a larger absence than intended but that’s not any excuse to parade yourself around with the strays of this town.”

Strays. Robin feels the word pelt into her and burn into her skin, sinking all the way down. It feels like cold water has tipped down the back of her neck. An unwelcome pit forms in her stomach.

She had known, of course, the reputation of a family like the Harrington's. She hadn’t quite known the extent they would go to protect it. Policing your child's friends over a matter of image is absurd.

Somehow, Robin can see how Steve grows even tenser at his mom’s words— hackles raising like that on a dog. His knuckles turn white. But before he speaks, Christine is barreling on like she hasn’t just slandered every one of Steve’s new friends.

“And to leave the house in such a state?”

Robin hears her sigh heavily, as though this really is the biggest problem in her life — which she can’t fathom in the slightest.

There was nothing wrong with Steve’s house. No mess beyond the usual evidence that someone, you know, lived there.

“Mom, I—” Steve starts again.

“Well, I’m sure you have your reasons. You always do.” She says it so pointedly, like Steve was known for peddling lies to weasel his way out of trouble.

It’s so un-Steve it makes Robin blink hard, wondering if she had heard right.

Steve was honest. He owned his mistakes and he took things on the chin. It was something she had liked most about him in the beginning.

Back when it was all snark and Robin told herself she was never going to be his friend, in this universe or anything other. That even then, reluctant co-worker and nothing more, Steve was honest and decent to her always.

“Now, come on now.” Christine Harrington huffs out her demand. “Your father is waiting in the car and there no use winding him up more than you already have.”

Robin’s stomach turns at her words. It had been a topic of discussion between them, one night weeks ago, lips loosened by the dark. I feel like a dog to them, Steve had admitted quietly, his breath against her pillow and his warmth under her sheets. Like they just leave alone most of the time but expect me to perk up and come running the moment they call. I hate it.

“I’m not coming with you.”

The words stammer on their way out like he had forced them out— and Robin wants to sing she’s so proud of her best friend.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not coming with you.” Steve repeats himself, the words a little firmer this time. “I’m… I’m spending the night here, with my friend Robin.”

He trails off, the words weaker, losing steam. Robin rises to her feet, the tell-tale squeak of the couch springs letting Steve know she was still here. Still right behind him.

It makes him stand a little straighter.

“I— I’ll come home in the morning.”

Christine Harrington makes a little scoffing noise, a high pitched faux laugh as if Steve’s said something amusing.

“Tell me when did I raise such an ungrateful brat?” She muses meanly and Robin doesn’t miss the way Steve flinches lightly. “We give you free rein of the house, apt time by yourself, and yet when we request you to spend a single evening with us—”

“You’re not asking, you’re demanding.” Steve cuts in, his voice more heated now.

“Oh hush, Steven. You act as if we’re so awful.”

It’s all dismissal. Everything, every word, a dismissal.

“I just can’t win with you, can I?” Christine sighs again, disappointment dripping from the sound. “Either we’re not here enough or we’re here but you can’t find time to have dinner with your family. Which is it, Steven?”

In the doorway, Steve begins to bristle. Robin really, really wants to slam the door now — if only to stop this conversation that seems to keep cutting deeper and deeper into her best friend.

She steps closer to him, moving as silently as she can, and makes sure to stay out of sight as she places a hand gently on the small of his back.

He’s shaking, she realises.

Her heart twists painfully in her chest.

Then, deathly calm, Steve says, “Did you know in 7th grade, I lied and I told everyone in my class that I got appendicitis?”

Robin blinks at the change in subject, the strangeness of Steve’s comment. She does remember that, vaguely. A boy in the year above— it had been a wildfire rumour that had turned out to be true.

Or so she thought. Staring hard at the planes of Steve’s back, the pit in her stomach yawns with an anticipation of devastation. Her hand on his back curls up a bit.

“You and Dad were gone for the whole month to Washington. It was the first time you had ever gone for that long and you didn’t even tell me until the day before you left.”

“Steven—”

“I just wanted someone to worry about me.” He steamrolls on, tone too casual for the story he was telling. “And it worked."

A beat.

"But then Cassie Lange asked about the scar.”

Robin’s hand on Steve's back twists up tighter. She feels like she knows what’s coming— but wishes it to be not true.

She doesn’t want to think of Steve, little twelve year old Steve, doing all that he can for a scrap of attention he was supposed to be getting from his parents.

“And rather than admit I’d lied…” The words come out too tight. “I went and found your sewing scissors and I made one.”

There’s this icy bite to Steve’s voice, his shoulders tensed back up. Christine still hasn’t said anything.

“I hurt like a bitch but it was worth it. I got a card from every single person in my class.”

“You wanna see the scar?” He asks— then he’s moving, his hand rucking up his sweater and shirt and exposing the skin of his stomach. Christine makes a noise like a muffled gasp. Robin feels a bit sick. Steve drops his shirt.

“And I kept all of those cards I got —all 17 of them stashed them under my bed in a box that I still have til this day.” He exhales through his nose. “Because it was proof that, at some point, somebody actually gave a shit about me. Because you didn’t. You didn’t then and you don’t get to now.”

His words hang in the air. There’s a long stretch of silence where Steve stares down the woman on the porch— someone closer to a stranger than a friend.

“So, I will see you at home, tomorrow.”

And then he slams the door to Robin’s house shut with a finality that shakes the air. Robin tenses up at the loud noise. Steve doesn't move, just stays staring at the closed door.

Behind them both, one of the noisy pipes in the house makes a loud noise. It sounds worse than usual as it breaks the silence.

Outside, Robin hears the click of heels on the pavement as they quieten, moving further away.

The pit in her stomach tightens immeasurably, a faint bile taste in her mouth. She finally remembers to smooth out her hand, pressing it flat against Steven’s back— another reminder that she was there.

If he wanted to talk or he didn’t, she was there.

Suddenly Steve sighs, an exhale so large that he shrinks down a couple inches, his shoulders dropping. It sounds exhausted.

He finally turns away from the door, to Robin, and she can only hope her face conveys every ounce of love, of support, she feels within her chest.

“Steve…” She breathes softly.

He wasn’t crying but just the sound of his name, spoken so delicately, seems to inspire tears. Robin catches the tremble of his lip and moves without thought— throwing both her arms around his neck and wrestling him into a hug.

Steve goes easy, his arms snaking around her middle and holding her back so tightly it nearly makes her squeak. She doesn’t though— just lets him bury his face in her neck, taking these big shuddering breaths, these half-formed sobs that break her heart clean in half.

She doesn’t know how long they stand there. Car engines drone as they pass by the street. The streetlights seem to get brighter. Steve presses himself so close to her, as close as he can, and Robin hugs back just as tight. She gives him all the time he needs.

She wonders if there’s an indent of him on her when he finally pulls back — a Steve Harrington shaped outline imprinted on her soul. It feels like there is.

If she could trace it, she thinks, it would be whatever shape love takes.

“Thanks Robbie.” He croaks out. He’s started scrubbing furiously at his face and she can see the wet sheen of tears as he wipes them away.

Robin doesn’t move far, just unwinds her arms a bit and lets them fall back to her sides. There’s an ache between her brows from how long she’s been frowning in concern. Steve looks more disheveled than usual, his usually perfect hair looking flatter — but he looks lighter too, somehow.

“No need to thank me, dingus.” She says, voice soft. She faux punches his chest and then regrets it when his lips don’t even twitch upward. It’s weird to see Steve all undone.

Robin thinks back to that conversation and the callousness of Steve’s mom. Her uncaring tone, the use of his full name like an insult.

She thinks of what Steve had said.

“I’m sorry you felt—” The words get stuck in her throat which grows thicker as she thinks about it. About a self-made scar on Steve’s abdomen, made by a twelve year old boy who just wanted someone to worry.

“—That you felt like you had to do something like that to yourself. I’m sorry no one noticed what you really needed.”

Steve nods slowly, his eyes glazed with a far away look as he stares somewhere over Robin’s shoulder. He gives this little shrug, a little huff through his nose.

“It’s okay.” He says, voice a bit distant. “I mean, it’s not but… even if I hadn’t meant to tell you, I’m glad someone knows now.”

It takes another second before he finally seems to shake himself from his thoughts, turning to properly look at Robin. His eyes are red-rimmed and the tip of his nose is pink. Tell tale signs of tears.

“I’ve never told anyone that before.”

Robin swallows thickly and it takes effort to choke down the urge to cry.

“Well,” She starts. It comes out too high pitched and tight and she clears her throat. “Thank you for telling me.

Some kind of smile plays on Steve’s lips, as if he can tell that she’s fighting off her sniffling and it’s sorta funny to him. It is, a little.

Because instead of being embarrassed or feeling pitied, he feels… delightfully surprised to have her care so much. To be so upset on his behalf.

“Oh, c’mon Robbie,” He gives her that same faux-punch in the shoulder she did earlier and it actually succeeds in making her lips pull up at the edges. “None of that.”

“You’re such a dingus.” Robin says. It comes out a bit wobbly still. Sue her— she doesn’t have Steve’s insane ability to bounce from one emotion to another in a single second.

Steve grins. He wanders back to the couch and flops down onto it. Robin follows and when she sits down, it’s a fraction closer to him this time. He gives one last scrub of his face, wiping the last of his tears away.

She nudges him with her thigh. She has to check just one more time.

“You alright?”

Steve smiles, crooked in that way that lets her know it’s completely sincere. He reaches forward and presses unmute on the remote, the film they’re watching starting up again with a buzz.

Steve presses his thigh back against Robin’s and in the dim lighting of her living room, his eyes glitter with an emotion that threatens to make her want to cry once more.

“Course.” He says. “I got someone checking up on me now,”

Another pointed nudge of his thigh against hers. “I’m better than ever.”

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