#her writing is *chef’s kiss*

[mi---amor]

magic Santa husband that gives you the Gender 🙏🏼

[obsessingoverthisandthat]

ANNABELL LEE

Is such a complex and lovely character, I can't. The difference between her thought process and Lenores thought process is beautiful and interesting-

She's a woman who very early in her life understood that she was not in a position of power, just by being a woman. That her life is controlled by a system everybody abides by that will never favor her. That she has to follow the rules of said system or even her family will cast her out as a mad woman, evident by the way they treat her anxiety/panic attacks. Nobody is safe. Nobody can be trusted. To keep safe is to follow the rules-

And the only way to get on top of anything, to gain even a smidge of control is to use the rules to you're advantage.

But this in turn demands of her to turn off care and empathy for others (which she is capable of btw. Annabell Lee is not just some unfeeling monster) Because factoring in how it would affect the other person, caring about another person is a risk factor to herself. And anyway, its not like anybody truly cares about her, right? Its not like there are people out there who would be willing to have empathy for her. They pretend, just as she does because it is polite. Some may even mean it on some level, but not truly. Not wholeheartedly. That's how she sees it.

She's on her own. Her true self is utterly and fully on her own.

Cue Lenore. Lenore started out just the same as any other person Annabell Lee could take advantage of. However, with one additional perk. She was a break. Annabell Lee didn't have to watch herself as closely, not maintain a facade as tightly as usual. Because she is talking to a mad woman. A woman diagnosed with hysteria, a woman shut in in the basement. She has no social power over Annabell Lee. Any accusations or similar can be explained away with her mental illness. So, with time she gets comfortable. Relaxes just a tiny bit. Lenore is pleasant company, sensible and quite smart to talk to.

She, on some level, understands Annabell Lee. And then. Then she cares.

And that is such an unfamiliar feeling. Such a dangerous sentiment. And ridiculous too, for why? Annabell is just taking advantage. Perhaps that's why Lenore is mad, for not quite understanding that. The social games and ladders.

And then the house burns down. And she grieves for a brief friend she had to leave, the first person who really cared.

And then Leo shows up.

Actually taking advantage of the rules, but in such a mad way, it is utterly baffling for her. It is the ultimate proof of care. Lenore cares for Annabell so deeply, it seems, she's willing to give away her life.

And she cracks. Because she desperately craves that. True companionship. True care. True love. And Lenore, wonderful, selfless Lenore, is willing to give her that. Does it with a smile and sacrifice.

So. The only sensible thing to do now. Is to make sure she keeps it. So, she cares back. So fiercely, she's willing to kill for Lenore. So fiercely, that Lenore becomes the only other real person in her life. The only other real person in the whole world.

It feels special. They are the only ones worth fighting for. They are a team, a unit. Annabell Lee truly cares for Lenore because Lenore will always truly care back. And that is worth more to her than a million other lives, that have never known true care even if it stood before them, waving.

Now, imagine the heartbreak when she understands, that Lenore is willing to truly care for others too. She never truly got the fact that Lenore wasn't all alone like her. That Lenore had a brother who truly cared and that Lenore became a madwoman because of said brothers death. She doesn't get it, that real connections do not require sacrifice. It is scary for Annabell that Lenore is willing to give up a lot for people, she perceives will simply not do so back.

Fact is Lenore was Annabells first and only friend. But Annabell is not the first and only friend of Lenores.

Fact is that Annabell thinks the only way to be safe and get ahead is to play by the set up rules. But Lenore doesn't see the sense in doing that if it harms her friends. Lenore would rather rip the system and rules apart than play by them. And that's always been the case.

Even if to Annabell, previously, it didn't look it. Even if Annabell thought they were the same.

And the most heart wrenching thing? Annabell will continue to act like she always has, because she values their relationship too much, values Lenore too much. Because that's how she keeps the things important to her, her life, her love, safe. And it will continue to drive Lenore away, because it requires sacrifice of people Lenore is fond of.

They will only get somewhere healthy when Annabell gains another friend and starts understanding Lenores point of view.

But Annabell is scared of that. It feels unsafe. She might become a madwoman.

So. We are at a cross point. Either Annabell Lee gives in or Annabell Lee loses Lenore.

Which. Fun. Is she gonna give in? Not without a fight, I imagine. It goes against everything she ever build up, against every rule of being she ever set for herself.

It is going to be difficult.

And there will be loss.

I'm so very excited to see it.

[elialys]

"He would make sense. I mean, he...he'd be discreet and...and private, and...his wife's a very powerful woman, so...he would be...a logical option."

THE NEWSREADER | 2.01 | Helen x Dale - Just you and me

[undead-moth]

I know I've been on about this for a while now and I'm being a hater but you're telling me SydCarmy was "always meant to be platonic" even though there are two seasons of writing making use of tried-and-true explicitly romantic tropes, themes and writing signals, and SydLuca is going to be romantic because...he was nice to her on screen for a few minutes?

I don't even care if people ship SydLuca, or if they just prefer it, but you can't honestly tell me that you believe Carmy was always meant to be a friend but Luca is an obvious love interest.

Just because Syd and Carmy haven't kissed or confessed their love to each other doesn't mean that isn't very obviously the direction this show is going. The Bear has already shown you who is endgame. It has shown you every episode of the show so far.

Honestly I really don't think The Bear fanbase understands this show or cares about these characters or the story being told here, which is unfortunate because this show is shockingly well-written in comparison to most shows right now, and we should be so grateful for it but all we're doing is complaining that the writers led us on by not making a ship canon fast enough. It's just. Sad.

[tacogoats]

Unwell about the idea of Orin using Durge's face to keep the charade going of the Durge still being around, so Gortash doesn't get suspicious.

He does anyway because she didn't understand how real their relationship was - and she slips up. Often. He knew immediately when the Dark Urge became so, so very cold. Nothing like the warmth he has known for years now behind closed doors; because it isn't them.

She is good at fine details of the body; she gets every scar, every little blemish perfectly, but she can never truly imitate the person behind the Urge.

She couldn't have hoped to anyway, because she didn't know who they really were. Only Gortash could, because he is the first to ask.

It surprises her, and infuriates her, even! The mighty Dark Urge, debased into some lovesick puppy yearning after this little Lordling!

And the mistakes that follow are how Gortash learns the Dark Urge is gone.

[tiny-feisty-gay]

man we all know charlie had an emo phase but I really wanna explore the possibility she wasn't always the charlie we see now. she wasn't always gentle or kind or optimistic and all of those things are hard-won after battling the opposite. that maybe at some point, bitterness and anger and spite started eating her alive and she changed for herself first. that her kindness is selfish at its root, that her altruism is self-serving above all else, because if she kept on the same path, there might be nothing else left of her. and at some point it stopped being about her and started to be about others.

and as a bonus? this version of charlie would pair perfectly with a version of vaggie who wasn't always guilt-ridden, who truly believed in her cause. who was lethal and ruthless and loved what she did because she believed and ultimately it was what did her in. who had truly never hesitated before that child, because extermination wasn't just a necessity, it was a game. entertainment.

idk I just. I love their dynamic already so much but the contrast of charlie becoming optimistic for herself vs vaggie developing guilt and shame over others, and both of them finding the harmony between those extremes?

[aelinfireheartgalathynius]

If you have not read A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik (book one of the Scholomance series) yet I am begging you to do it because I do not have enough people to talk about it with and I love this series so much

I'm going to be honest I will not hear any Scholomance series slander they are my children and they are perfect

[baeshijima]

throws up that was such an amazing finale quest and i think it might be my favourite one

[the-dragon-hearted]

We, as a community, do not talk enough about how Juvia and Bora are exes.

Like HELLO

Mr. Number 1 Opp of episode 1 who actively participated in human trafficking dating the one and only done-dirty-by-Mashima water woman.

Also Bora broke up with HER? Sir?? There is so much to explore there that, like many things, IS NEVER BROUGHT UP AGAIN -

Okay - so were they childhood friends or was he using her for her looks/powerful magic? Did it start off transactionally or was there some spark there? How long did they date? Did she stay with him because she felt that no one would ever love her, so at least she could be valuable in a different way? Did he make her laugh? Or just put up a facade in front of other people? Was she his backup for a while, a bodyguard adjacent for when his schemes went sideways? Is that how they started? What about the end? Sure we see him breaking up with her in canon - but why? You can't tell me he suddenly didn't like the rain of The Rain Woman. I mean he can, he's a prick, but consider the alternative: Did she see catch on to his beginnings? Expose one of his scams? Grow critical of whatever shit he was getting into? Did she say something? Did she try to stop him?

The first time we see her she is completely covered head to toe in several layers and the rain does not stop. She says it's never stopped. But damn, doesn't it feel like turned from a drizzle to a downpour after him? I think it's purposeful. The layers are purposeful. The hints are there. She fully expects to be discarded after her fight with Gray. AND seeing how she comes out of her shell in the later arcs - watching her change her hair and her clothes, experimenting with new styles with an almost fervent joy - it just makes me wonder.

Could she not do that before? Was there an expectation there? A controlling factor? How much of her identity was she willing to sacrifice to quiet the fear of being unloved? How hard did the rain fall as it progressed, did it ever waver, or did it only get stronger and stronger.

And Bora? Fucking Bora?

Was it REALLY about the rain, or did she just speak up? Did she intervene and he had enough sense to refrain from trying to harm her. Because if the relationship was built off of him using her for magic and granting her some sense of companionship in return, then he damn well knew that there was no way he, a lil fire mage, could stand up to the actual force of nature that is Juvia. No, that meant he knew EXACTLY how to hurt her without inviting her vengeful side.

So he tells her she's too depressing. He reinforces how unlovable she is. How it's HER fault. How it's always been HER, how he's leaving her because of who she is - how he couldn't change her. He probably throws everything she's quietly confessed to him and leaves - safe from retribution and free to continue his fucking diabolical business. Because he knows he's hurt her worse than anyone else could. He knows that she'll either come running back, or she'll run and run and just keep running.

He doesn't know that Juvia only loved the idea of being loved. Not him. Bora can't imagine anyone not loving him (he can, but he's the run who's running, headfirst into greed with an enchanted ring on his finger - someplace Juvia never would've followed). Juvia doesn't run back to him. She doesn't run at all, the rain pours and she decides: "Fine, if I can't be loved. Let me be feared."

Maybe Phantom Lord orchestrated it, the master seems sort of cartoonishly conniving, and Juvia's magic is insanely powerful - but if that is the case, that doesn't change how easily Bora was bought. It doesn't change how Bora knew just what to say to push her to that point. It honestly doesn't change much of anything.

Bora? Pathetic.

Juvia? We all know she's always been lovesick and maybe if she was allowed a bit more characterization we'd be able to explore why. Maybe we'd talk about why she wore so many layers or kept her hair long. Why she kept a "frilly" pink umbrella but wore all blue. Indulging in a childish side while wearing a face of complete apathy. Why she adores the idea of being loved but can't seem to make it work. Why she's desperate for romance but finds more joy in the friends she makes - it doesn't stop her from chasing "true love" but she finds she doesn't need a lover's touch to chase the rain away anymore.

Because the rain was never about Gray, it was about Juvia. It was about how she was loved - not by others - but by herself.

I could spend eons critiquing how she was written... But for now I'm just gonna sit here and think about the consequences of Juvia dating Bora.

And I'm gonna laugh when Natsu and Lucy own his ass in episode 1. Because they don't even know it yet, but they're avenging a soon-to-be-friend. And honestly, I hope Juvia read about it in a newspaper, the pages soggy under her touch. I hope she sat in a park, the sound of pouring rain drowning out all else, read the headline.

And I hope, that even in that dark moment of her life, when she was the cruelest she would ever be, she read about Bora getting his ass handed to him. And I hope it made her smile.

[queenofbaws]

Hiii! Can you do an au where Beth overhears the conversation about the prank and or throws the note away before Hannah can find it?

"Give me your glasses."

That was it - that was all the warning Hannah got before Beth had yoinked the frames clean off her face, leaving her puzzled and startled and, unfortunately, lost amid the smudges and smears of color that had once been her bedroom. "What are you - " she tried, but there was no point, she could see that now, what with Beth frantically pulling her...sweater...off...?

"I'm not explaining," her sister explained, balling her sweater up and jamming it into her chest before striding over to her closet and grabbing one of her shirts off a hanger (she thought, anyway, given the whole lack of glasses thing); she tugged something black on, tossed her beanie onto Hannah's bed and that was that before she turned on her heel and stormed - yes, stormed - her way out of the bedroom and into the hall.

Which was just too much: Hannah followed after her, nearly tripping down the stupid few stairs from her bedroom to the hallway itself, half asking and half sputtering, "W-why are you wearing my clothes?!"

And Beth, never one for mincing words, pressed her hands together in that terrible way she and Josh both had, cracking all of her knuckles at once as she answered, "There's no out-pranking a Washington, Han...I'm gonna go remind some people of that little fact, I think."

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Preparing myself that slow-burn storylines often involve periods of separation. In season 3, this separation may not be physical but rather a mental one between Carmy and Syd. As suggested by the song at the end, they may feel like they're mentally half a world away from each other.

In a brilliant meta written by @bioloyg , it is suggested that the walk-in scene represents Carmy's mind. This can be observed during the lock-in, where he is unable to hear or reach Sydney. The show often portrays Sydney as Carmy's focus, someone he not only wants to hear but needs to hear, as evidenced by him hearing her voice during his panic attack earlier in the day. As Carmy experiences the panic attack in the walk-in, memories flood his mind, and he is unable to hear or reach Sydney.

In the song, when it says, "Go it alone," Sydney is shown smiling after her dad walks away. This foreshadows that Sydney will pursue her dreams independently while experiencing the same sense of anxiety that Carmy felt when he received his star. Sydney may also struggle with self-care while striving for success, we hear that she only ate a left twix for dinner and she is sick after dinner service. She tells her dad that pressure is her friend, so Syd might face similar challenges as Carmy when he was in her position. While Carmy battles becoming like his mother or his EMP boss.

Carmy said he can't do it without her, wouldn't even want to and that leaves them in his relationship where they need each other but are so far away in season 3.

And I'm looking forward to this angst if the prediction is correct.

[saym0-0]

my girlfriend gunpowder tim and my homies bouldersona

[insane-in-the-membranee]

Silas Fanart 🖤 [from Yandere Mafia by @darkbluekies]

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF PRIORITY: SUR'KESH

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Lt. James Vega, EDI, and Urdnot Wrex With: Lt. Steve Cortez, Dr. Mordin Solus, Major Kirrahe, and Urdnot Bakara And a Special Guest Appearance by: Adm. Steven Hackett Alliance R&D has officially begun construction on the Prothean device. The team has dubbed it: "Project Crucible". We're throwing everybody who knows how to throw a hammer at it. This is gonna be the most ambitious undertaking in human history. I'm not saying it won't be a challenge- but we can do this, Shepard. You can do this. Never doubt that. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

+BONUS (the smirk™️)

[esmeislewd]

Do you ever wonder if dragons complain when the princess being sacrificed to them is too thin? Like there's not going to be much meat on a person and we apparently taste pretty bad to sharks and other animals like that, so maybe fat would help the taste? Is it far off to have dragons swooping down from the mountain and demanding tribute and a sacrifice or they'll burn the town but telling them to at least feed the sacrifice appropriately!

(The dragon is a chubby chaser and is assembling a small harem of plump princesses back in her cave and using her immense horde as a snack fund to keep all her beauties well-fed~)

[scoopertrouper]

could you write about steve and nancy's first major fight (and reconciliation) after they got back together post s4?

anon, i hope you're happy. this prompt ate my brain, chewed it up, and then decided it didn't like how it tasted and spit it out. i was at the ZOO with an adorable little toddler, watching him watch the turtles in wonderment while also thinking "yeah, but WHY are steve and nancy fighting??"

ultimately i think the characters here still need some fine tuning/fleshing out and the premise really only works if you don't think about it too hard. i will probably revisit this in the future with a much stronger editorial eye. 😬

that said, i hope you still very much enjoy this impulsive, self-indulgent 5k words of breaking up (not really lol) and making up schmoop (+ warning for tasteful-ish spice at the end - sorry if that's not your thing).

***

can’t let you slide through my hands

“I don’t like this.”

Nancy hates her voice right now. It’s a quivering, slip of a sound, and she can barely hear it over the slamming echo of her heart inside her ears. 

But Steve hears it. He always hears her, even when it’s something he doesn’t want to hear. 

And if he’s trying to ignore her – trying to pretend the slow, careful grind of whetstone over the edge of his ax has drowned out her words – well, the brief glance he can’t help but flick in her direction gives him away entirely. 

“Steve.”

“Nancy.” 

Each syllable is even, practically toneless, and she hates it. 

“Why are you doing this?” Normally she’d work a lot harder to quash the weak, plaintive note that suffuses the word why, but he’s not listening to her and she doesn’t know what else to do. How else to get his attention. 

“You heard Hopper,” he says with that awful, carelessly empty inflection. “They need all the help they can get.”

Nancy’s fingernails bite into her palms. The sting of it somehow grounds and incenses her, all at the same time. 

“He only said that after you asked him if you could go.”

And hadn’t that been a kick in the pants – Nancy, resigned to staying behind playing bodyguard at Hopper’s request, while Steve only too eagerly offered to tromp off into the woods with Team Distraction like some kind of kamikaze lamb for slaughter. 

(That’s not fair. She knows that of the two of them, she has what could be considered the more important job. Stay at the cabin. Protect El. Make sure nothing happens to her if this frankly suicidal diversionary tactic doesn’t work and they’re attacked during yet another round of psychic Marco Polo with the biggest, baddest ugly they’ve faced yet. 

And she knows Hopper wasn’t lying – they probably could use Steve’s help out there, his seemingly infinite supply of athleticism. Just like she knows that it’s actually a huge compliment that Hopper's trusting her to help keep his daughter safe. So no, she’s not being fair. But also – it’s not fair.)

Steve finally looks up, and he’s wearing that face she’d gotten all too familiar with during the last couple months of their relationship, round one – the one that says he’s trying to see where she’s coming from, but he’s getting annoyed in spite of himself. She hasn’t seen it in quite some time, but she supposes it would’ve been silly to assume it had been retired for good. Neither of them has changed that much.

“Nance. Come on. You know I’m gonna be way more useful out there than I would be here. I’m a garbage shot, anyway.”

Nancy scoffs.

“So you’d rather be cannon fodder instead?”

He props the ax next to the door to the front door of the cabin and crosses his arms, looking a little wounded. 

“Jesus, give me some credit. I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”

“Sure, as long as someone’s there to follow your ass through a gate, and beat off the demon bats, and bandage you when you’re bleeding out all over the place!” 

She knows she’s probably starting to sound unhinged. She knows it. But she can’t help it. She does not want him to do this. This is not a good plan.

His face twists, and he looks like he wants to grab her – hold her like he would’ve if this were still September of senior year – but he pulls back at the last second. He does that a lot, now, like he’s still not totally sure what he has permission to do. 

She wishes he hadn’t. Touching him would be infinitely preferable to shouting at him. If she was touching him, she could grab on tight. Refuse to let go. Keep him anchored here by sheer force of will. 

“Nancy, I don’t get it,” he says, tossing his arms up helplessly instead of putting them around her. “This was exactly what your plan was the first time. Cause a ruckus. Create a diversion. Fly in under the radar. It worked once. Ish. We can make it work again, at least long enough for El to try and flush the creep out of hiding.”

Nancy’s jaw drops.

“Worked? Define worked, Steve!” Her eyes are burning. “Eddie is dead! Max is in a coma, maybe…maybe…” as good as dead “…forever. There is a gate to hell splitting the whole town open down the middle, and Vecna is still alive. Only now we have no idea where he is or what he’s doing! In what way would you say any of what we did worked?”

“Because we hurt him,” he responds immediately, low and hard. “We hurt him, and now – now we know he bleeds. We can hurt him again, Nancy, I gotta believe that.” His mouth thins. “Eddie dying, losing Max –” his voice cracks on the “a”, but he soldiers through it “– it all sucks. I hate it. But it wasn’t your fault. They knew what they were getting themselves into.” He pauses, and squares his shoulders. “They weren’t like Barb.”

Nancy’s mouth tastes like ash, and for once she can’t blame it on the air toxicity.

“Barb? Who said anything about Barb?” She’s trying to keep her breathing under control, but her voice sounds far away. “This has nothing to do with her.”

“Bullshit.” 

He looks at her dead on as he says it, like he knows she knows exactly what he means, and she sees red. She’s not sure what’s about to come out of her mouth, but she knows that whatever it is, she’s probably not going to be proud of it – and this time, she won’t be able to use spiked punch as an excuse, nor will she be granted the dubious mercy of drunken amnesia. 

“This has nothing to do with Barb,” she says slowly, “And everything to do with the fact that sometimes, I wish you weren’t so fucking stupid.”  

He flinches back like she’s slapped him and honestly, she might as well have. She feels sick. 

It’s the worst fight they’ve had – actually the only fight they’ve had – since they decided to try again, and what does it say about them that they didn’t last more than ten minutes before they started ripping out the stitches on old, barely healed wounds?

“Well you asked for this,” Steve finally replies, voice quivering minutely. “You’re the one who came to me and wanted to give this another shot. So you tell me which one of us is stupid.”

It hurts. It was supposed to. Nancy immediately feels herself deflate, like he’s sucked away all that was keeping her upright and angry. 

For once, she doesn’t have an immediate response and Steve doesn’t wait for one anyway, whirling on his heel and storming back into the house. 

He’s forgotten his ax. The blade gleams at her, mocking, from where it sits against the door frame. 

She’s a bit shaky, and she needs a minute to collect herself before she goes back inside. Everyone in the cabin is gonna know they’ve been fighting – the walls are not soundproof – and it’s humiliating.  

More humiliating is the fact that this is coming when they’ve hardly been back together two months (and when she’s barely been officially broken up with Jonathan for five). She knows what it looks like,  what she looks like – bouncing back and forth between two men on a whim because she can’t manage to choose once and for all who she wants.

But it’s not like that. Her relationship with Jonathan had been dead long before she’d been able or willing to admit it, and this thing with Steve is so new and old at the same time that it’s just – it’s hard to find her footing, sometimes. 

They’ve both changed so much, but now she’s realizing that there are ways they’ve stayed the same, too. And with the good always comes the bad.

Okay. Okay. She takes a deep breath, then two. She can’t stay out here forever. She has to go back inside, and hopefully they can awkwardly circle each other until they’ve cooled down enough to talk it over like the adults they almost are. 

Because she’s not giving up after one (shitty) fight. Rather than make her second guess her choice, Steve’s parting shot had the reverse effect – it had clarified exactly how stupid a decision it wasn’t. She had wanted this. She still wants it. 

It’s only been two months, sure, but she’s been happy, really happy (a miracle considering the world is literally ending around them). 

She hopes he’s felt the same, last ten minutes notwithstanding.

Damn it. She shouldn’t have said those things to him. That one thing. Guilt is settling over her like a blanket, thicker and more noxious than even the poisonous air of the Upside Down. 

Nancy’s not sorry about getting mad. If he wants her to be his girlfriend again – and she hopes he still wants her to be his girlfriend again – then he has to understand that she’s going to have an opinion on when and how he hurls his body into the line of fire. 

But being mean on purpose? That one, she’s pretty sorry for. Calling him stupid hadn’t been intended to do anything but inflict damage, and she knows she owes him an apology (once the thought of talking to him again doesn’t make the confused snarl of anger and regret and affection that’s all tangled up in her chest tighten to the point of pain).

First things first, though. 

Chin up, go back inside.

*****

At first, she’s grateful for how simple it is to avoid him all afternoon. The cabin is tiny, even taking into account the hastily constructed add-on that had come once the Byers realized that returning to California wasn’t an option, their house was no longer theirs and Hopper’s cabin in its original state had nowhere near enough space to house them all.

But as the unofficial headquarters for their little hodgepodge Upside Down insurgency, it’s also in a near-constant state of low-grade chaos, which is pretty easy to disappear into – or, in this case, use as a convenient excuse to avoid someone.

(That said, tension is tension, and in this case it’s so apparent that even Hopper – whose unspoken approach to any relationship that isn’t his own generally veers toward the less he knows, the better – shoots them both some pretty unimpressed looks when Steve volunteers himself and Robin, unprompted, for the second of the day’s supply runs.)

Her relief edges into anxiety, though, as they get closer and closer to nightfall and Nancy still hasn’t had a chance to get him alone or even do more than accidentally catch his eye over the sad cans of stew they scrounge up for pre-op dinner. It sits like sludge on her tongue (and based on the look on El’s face as she dutifully shovels down spoonfuls, that’s probably not just Nancy’s guilt talking).  

In fact, it’s only as they’re packing up to leave that she realizes she’s probably going to have to go out of her way to corner him, because while Hopper’s come inside to say his goodbyes, Steve's nowhere to be found. 

And part of her really, really wants to be petty and leave it at that. Wants to keep stewing in her resentment and let him go off alone because he was too much of a coward to spare her a fifteen-second goodbye.

But the larger, louder half of her brain won’t shut up about how she’d feel if something happened and the last thing she said to him was…that, so she sucks it up and stomps toward the door, flinging it open and –

– startling Steve so badly that he jerks back a step, eyes widening with alarm.

“Jesus, Nancy, you scared the shit outta me!” She can’t muster up more than a couple blinks in response, and he scuffs one of the dirty planks of the porch with his boot. “Look, I know I’m not, like, your favorite person right now, but I still wanted to come say, uh, see you later. You know…just because.”

Oh, he is such an asshole.

She doesn’t know how to tell him this in a way that would help him understand what she’s actually trying to communicate, so instead, she yanks him down and kisses him hard, something she hasn’t done in public much this go-around. It’s a frankly awful smash of lips and teeth, and may in fact be the worst kiss Nancy has ever given or received.

Regardless, she thinks it gets the point across. 

She pulls back, mouth throbbing, and stares at him again, fingers clenched in the collar of his jacket as he stands there, stunned and swaying. 

“See you later, Steve,” she says pointedly, instead of “please, come back”, or, better yet, “don’t fucking go.” He softens immediately, and inches forward.

“Nancy –”

“Later,” she interrupts firmly. “When you get back. Okay?”

Steve eyes her for several long seconds, then relents.

“Okay,” he says, then he kisses her for real this time (gently, because ow), a brief little soft–as–silk press that leaves her wanting more than she can possibly hope to have at this specific moment.

When she goes back inside (she refuses to watch them roll off into the distance like she’s some kind of war bride, she carries a gun for Christ’s sake), she pauses for a moment, debating checking for the third time since midday that her rifle is loaded and ready. 

Jonathan is there, sitting tense at the two-person kitchen table, staring out into the woods as the rest of the gang helps prep El (or "helps" in some cases).

Most of the time, they’re pretty civil with each other. The breakup had basically been mutual, and she only gets a little livid mad now when she thinks about how he lied to her about Emerson. And kept lying to her. Until the only goddamn reason she found out was because – anyway.

Most of the time, if she ignores inconsequential context like that, they’re pretty civil. 

“Trouble in paradise?” he says, almost inaudibly. 

She takes her rifle to the living room. 

****

In the end, the night and the operation are both total duds, and doesn’t that just add insult to injury?

El searches for what feels like hours, pushing herself farther and farther until her nose is bleeding thickly enough that Joyce sternly calls time on the whole exercise. 

No go, is what El says afterward, wiping blood off her face. Some of it ends up smeared under one of her darkly ringed eyes, and she lets Mike fuss over her until it’s gone. 

Whatever psychic plane she usually ducks into is dead silent, and in the corporeal world, there isn’t a single peep out of anything Upside Down-adjacent, as Hopper reports via walkie-talkie. No stray demodogs, not even an errant vine around what’s usually one of the most active sections of the gate. 

And nothing from Max, who Lucas has taken to watching like a hawk – “just in case” – whenever they can spare him. Nancy’s not sure what’s meant to follow “just in case”, and she’s always been a tiny bit afraid of what Lucas might come back with if she asks – so she doesn’t. For once, she doesn’t need answers.

It’s eerie, and anticlimactic, and it leaves Nancy with an uneasy pit in her stomach. Under the circumstances, no news doesn’t always feel like good news.

With how the night has fizzled, she doesn’t expect much when Hopper’s group rumbles down the drive – so the jagged, ugly cut she can see arcing down the left side of Steve’s forehead from even as far off as the front window comes as a nasty shock. (Though honestly, should it?)

“What the hell happened?” she demands, running to meet them before they can even climb out of the truck. “I thought you said it was quiet.”

“It was,” Hopper confirms, killing the ignition. “Not a crawler in sight. Wanna fill the lady in on what went down, Harrington?” 

The laughter is plain in his voice, and Nancy instantly relaxes. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been serious.

Steve looks downright mutinous as he crawls out of the back cab alongside Wayne. Good. See if he wants to abandon Nancy to go play Rambo after that. 

“Got into it with a tree branch,” he mutters, mortified. “Tree – one, Steve – zero.” He gestures up at his forehead. “Obviously.”

The fact that Nancy manages to mostly keep a straight face should probably automatically shortlist her for inclusion into some kind of Greatest Girlfriend Ever hall of fame. As it is, Dustin, (who’s been uncharacteristically quiet all night), does the dirty work for her.

“Jesus, Steve, is there anything you can beat in a fight?”

“Excuse the shit outta me, Henderson, but did I or did I not save your ass from goddamn Russian soldiers?”

“One Russian soldier, Steve. One. And I don’t even know if it counts when you mrrflmgh –” Dustin gurgles helplessly for a few seconds behind the iron hand Nancy clamps over his mouth before eventually giving up and going silent.

“I think what Dustin is trying to say is that he’s glad everyone’s okay,” she says with as much brightness as she can muster. “Right?” she asks pointedly, releasing him. There’s a long pause, and then he sighs.

“Sure,” he says with all the enthusiasm of a dental patient undergoing a root canal. “Glad to have you all back.” 

He shuffles back into the cabin, and Nancy knows that one of these days, someone’s gonna have to have a talk with him about his wild mood swings. But she doesn’t really want that someone to be her, so she’s refrained from bringing it up thus far.

“Someone’s gotta check that kid,” Steve utters almost inaudibly, agreeing with Nancy’s silent train of thought (and sounding more concerned than irritated). He’s sneaking glances in Dustin’s wake like he thinks he might be able to get away with following him.

Nancy clears her throat, ready to disabuse him of that notion.

“Some other time, Rocky,” she says, and she means it to be teasing, but it comes out too fond to be entirely successful. “Why don’t we get that cut taken care of, first?” 

She holds out her hand, and he only hesitates a second before he takes it firmly in his, palm to palm.

***

They stay linked like that as she leads him all the way to the tiny half-bath at the back of the new addition, and he only lets go when she shuts them in and urges him down onto the closed toilet so she can comfortably reach his forehead. 

For a few moments, he allows her to work in silence, wincing when she has to pour hydrogen peroxide over the cut (she still doesn’t know if you can actually get Upside Down rabies, but better safe than sorry with all weird dust particles floating around). 

Without the dried blood crusting it, it actually looks very superficial. Nancy breathes a sigh of relief, though she’ll still layer it with some antibiotic cream to be safe.

“I guess I just…don’t get it.” Apropos of nothing, Steve chooses this moment to speak quietly, picking up the loose thread of a conversation they haven’t even started yet. “The last time we were together, you were pissed because I didn’t want to get involved. Now I’m all in, and it doesn’t seem like you like that, either.”

Nancy’s fingers freeze on the cap of Neosporin.

“Steve.” She sets the tube aside and makes an executive decision – she needs to be touching him if he’s gonna insist on talking about this here. “Before we do this, can you do me a favor, first?” 

Nancy picks up his hands and haphazardly plants them on her hips before slipping her own up to cage his face. His brow furrows, but he doesn’t move an inch from where she’s arranged them. “Can you just…stop stopping yourself from touching me? I know we’re in kind of a weird place right now, but I promise you – if you want to, then there’s a pretty damn good chance I want to, too.”

The confused lines in his forehead don’t ease, but his fingers adjust and tighten around her sides until he’s holding her with surety. Surrounded by the warmth of him, the invisible string that’s been holding her shoulders taut all day loosens.

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” he says slowly, eyes skimming her face like she’s this entirely new person who just happens to still look and dress like Nancy. “I – of course I’ll stop. It’s not like holding you is some kind of hardship, Nance.” He looks down. “That still doesn’t answer my question, though.”

Nancy refrains from noting that he hadn’t asked a question, he’d merely made an observation. That level of pedantry probably won’t help much in her “get Steve to touch her more” crusade.

“I know,” she says instead. “But Steve, it’s not – I don’t get mad because you get involved. I love that. I think it’s…” She can feel a dull flush start to creep up her neck. “This can never leave this room, okay, but it can – it can be very hot when you go all action hero.” The flush has extended all the way up through her cheeks. Mercifully, he doesn’t comment on it, though a faint little glimmer that she hasn’t seen all day is creeping back into his gaze.

“Right back ‘atcha, Wheeler,” he returns with a trace smile, and oh! That’s flirting. That’s a good sign. “But then…why did you…?”

“React the way I did?” He tilts his head in the slightest nod. “Because I wanted you to stay with me,” she finally admits, feeling more naked in front of him now than on the night she’d given him her virginity. “The hero thing – it’s nice and all, don’t get me wrong. And sometimes it’s necessary, but I – I don’t need that. I don’t need a hero. I just…want a partner. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

“Nancy…” In a blink, the amused glint is gone. In its place, he looks raw, like she’s torn him down to the studs.

There’s a lick of hair curling over his ear that she’s taken to mindlessly stroking, and it’s easier to keep staring at that than look into his eyes while she gets this off her chest.

“When we got back together,” she continues on, “you made me a promise. Remember?”

“Yeah,” he replies, and his voice is achingly soft. “I promised you we’d come out of this okay.” He turns his face into her hand, lips brushing against her palm with every tingling syllable. “I meant it.” 

“Yeah, but.” Nancy chews her lip. “If I can’t convince you that you matter more than how hard you swing or how many hits you can take, if you won’t stay with me so we can work together and watch each other’s backs, I don’t see how that’s possible.”

Abruptly, Steve’s standing, nudging his way deeper into her space, and the way he can tower over her a bit, dark and solid – well, Nancy fancies herself a feminist, but not so much that she’ll pretend it doesn’t make her shiver in a good way.

“Goddammit, Nancy,” he croaks, and then he’s folding her in his arms, curling tight around her body. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t – I didn’t even realize,” he mumbles into the nook of her neck and shoulder. “Shit, I am stupid.”

“You’re not,” Nancy chokes, tightening her arms around his neck like she’d wanted to earlier. He’s still wearing his jacket, and the zipper is digging painfully into the V of her collarbone, but it barely registers. She thinks it would take a literal earthquake to dislodge her right now. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry. You weren’t even wrong, it’s just that – sometimes it’s still really hard to talk about her.” 

She doesn’t need to specify who the “her” in question is. There are definitely a few tears leaking into the leather of his collar, but no one can see them, so it’s neither here nor there.

“I get it,” he says, “but I wanna talk to you about this stuff. If – if you want to. With me. I know I wasn’t there for you before but I swear I can be that guy now.”

“I know,” she gasps, because he’s holding her so tightly that it’s hard to breathe, but if the tradeoff is losing this hot–all–over feeling of his hands on her, then it’s fine, air is overrated anyway. “You are. You are that guy. I want you, I want us. I want you to believe that.”

Their bodies are so constrained in this tiny space, but there’s something wild crackling in the air, something that raises goosebumps on her arms and makes it so that one minute she’s mouthing reassurances into his jaw, and the next, he’s tilting his chin and kissing her quiet, stealing her words with one wet, electric sweep of his tongue.

Yes. She fists his hair between her fingers, soft and a little overlong, swallowing down his helpless whine as she angles his head so she can open wider under him. 

This – this is why, so far, she’s barely been able to kiss him outside of the privacy of one of their rooms. 

Because every time, almost as soon as it starts, they’re set ablaze, twin infernos trying to consume each other alive. It was never like this before, so she has no roadmap for how to cope, how to process the overpowering need that has her spreading her legs to draw him closer and shoving her hands under layers of leather and cotton to get at sweaty skin. 

“Steve,” she whimpers into his lips, rocking her hips up in a pale facsimile of what she truly wants (but it still feels so good). “I need…”

“I know,” he groans, sucking gently at her sensitive pulse point until she’s keening quietly and grinding harder into the rigid seam of his jeans. Everything is tight, and hot, and she thinks she might vibrate right out of her own body if she can’t get what she’s craving.

The night they got back together, they’d had every good intention of taking it slow, of getting to know each other again before jumping back into the physical. 

But that had lasted about as long as it took for him to get a hand under the band of her bra, and eventually he’d ended up fucking her nice and slow behind the locked door of her childhood bedroom, trailing scorching kisses from her swollen lips to the tips of her breasts until she was shaking apart into the mattress, vision white and head empty of anything that wasn’t him – his scent, his body over hers, the quivering place where he nestled inside her.

They don’t have time for that now – they hardly ever have time for that, which probably doesn’t help quell the desperate desire – so they make do, as always, with what they can. 

They make do with his hips, pushing into hers again and again in easy, dirty twists, sensation blunted between two layers of jeans but still enough to have her choking back moans, nipples pebbled hard into two pinpricks of pleasure against the stiff padding of her bra. They make do with deep, messy kisses, which also muffle the needy noises they can’t contain as their bodies strain higher and higher toward a mutual peak.

They make do with hands, scratching up his back and through his chest hair. Squeezing at her ass and guiding her movements until all Nancy has to do is hang on for dear life and enjoy the ride. 

When she finally crashes over the edge, it hits out of nowhere, in flashing, pulsing waves that come hard and fast until she’s digging fists into his shoulder blades and sucking on his tongue in a frantic attempt to stay silent. He’s not far behind, and when he tears himself away from her lips to bury his head in her shoulder, she can feel more than hear the deep shudder of his groan as he trembles in her arms.

Finally, they both still, slumping back against the wall in a frazzled tangle, and reality comes seeping in one mortifying realization at a time. 

“We‘re…still in Hopper’s bathroom, aren’t we?” Nancy asks faintly.

“Yup.” He pops the “p” against her skin, but doesn’t look up. 

“And…we’ve been in here a really long time.” Way longer than it would take to treat that cut on his head, anyway.

“Probably.” 

“My brother is out there. With his girlfriend. And his friends. Our friends.”

“He sure is.”

He sounds way more cheerful than anyone about to face down a firing squad of nosy teenagers ought to be – but then again, she’s remarkably relaxed, too.

Huh. Could it be that in the end, all they really needed was to get off?

(Probably not.) 

Steve finally shoves away from the wall and adjusts his pants, grimacing. 

“Okay, being honest, this might not’ve been our brightest idea,” he admits.

Nancy catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror just over his shoulder. Her face is flushed, and her eyes are bright. She looks pleased. Happy.

“Probably not, but can’t argue with results,” she teases, stepping back into his space and slipping an arm around his waist, under his jacket. 

He grins down at her, and he looks like such a man – handsome, and kind, and hers – that her heart skips. 

They’re not kids anymore, playacting at some great love that, in the end, was mostly smoke and mirrors. If they make it out of this, like he’s promised they will, they’ll be – they’ll be basically grown ups.

This time, it’s real. Maybe even for keeps. 

That should freak her out, but it doesn’t. 

He presses his smile to her forehead, chaste and sweet, and slings an arm around her neck. 

“Who am I to argue with the beautiful Nancy Wheeler?” he says with more than a bit of irony, and she laughs, because she wants to and he wants her to. “Ready to face the music?”

“Together?” Nancy doesn’t shield the hope in her voice. He dips his forehead to rest against hers, nudges their noses together.

“Wild demodogs couldn’t drag me away,” he says softly, sincerely, and the warm, secret feeling in Nancy’s chest – the one she’s been carrying around for months, waiting until she’s absolutely sure she has a name for it – balloons outward. 

Soon, it’ll be too big for her body alone to bear. One day, it will demand to be shared, and she’ll give it freely and joyfully. 

Not yet, but soon. 

“Come on, then,” she says.

She tugs him forward, and he follows.

***

(normalize panicking and giving an established character an extensive home reno complete with plumbing work smack dab in the middle of an apocalypse simply because you realized that the house's canon layout was not conducive to the main pairing getting it on as you had originally written.)