#jargyle fics

[judasofsuburbia]

could be something as simple as this || argyle week day two: favorite tropes

rating: teen and up || pairing: argyle/jonathan || word count: 1951 || read on ao3 here

day two of @argyledaily 's argyle week: favorite tropes (friends to lovers)

“That’s gonna be us one day,” Argyle whispers in Jonathan’s ear.

Jonathan chokes on his own spit. “What?”

“That,” Argyle gestures to Hopper and Joyce holding hands as they read their vows. 

Jonathan stares at him with a look so incredulous while a smile tugs at the edge of his lips.

“It’s not legal,” Jonathan points out, still keeping his voice down enough to not disturb the ceremony.

Argyle glances his way and smirks, “Sorry, are we law-abiding citizens now?”

“We’re not dating,” Jonathan counters with a whisper. 

“I like how that was your second thought,” Argyle responds, his smirk growing wider. 

“I‒” Jonathan stutters and shakes his head. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not,” Argyle says simply. 

“What makes you think we’re getting married?” Jonathan asks. Not in a cruel or mean way, based on the blush lighting up his whole face.

Argyle shrugs, “I just know.”

Jonathan watches him with that same questioning look for the rest of the ceremony and into the reception but doesn’t refuse when Argyle offers his hand for a dance. Jonathan thinks for a moment that they’ll do some kind of exaggerated, stupid dance to offset all the couples on the floor but instead, Argyle pulls him in close, clasps their hands together, and holds his lower back firm and steady. Slowly twirls him around the floor in smooth movements. Jonathan laughs for a little while but soon, he’s in deep. Allowing himself to be held and maybe romanced for the first time in a long time.

It’s not like anyone’s staring at them, they’re around all their closest friends and family. 

“Where did you learn to dance like this?” Jonathan asks, a little breathless.

“My parents,” Argyle says. “They loved dancing around the living room when they would come home from date nights. My sister and I would watch from the banister when we were supposed to be in bed.”

“Did you ever get caught?”

Argyle smiles fondly, “Almost every time but it was worth it.”

The song cascades into another slow song and Argyle hasn’t let go so Jonathan won’t either. It’s really nice if he’s being honest.

“You’re good on your feet.”

“I know, dude,” Argyle says with a righteous huff. “It’s what will make me a good husband… amongst other things.”

Jonathan ducks his head and laughs but doesn’t quip back. He knows he hasn’t had enough champagne to make everything feel so floaty around him. He chalks it up to it being a long day of celebrating but the fluttering of his stomach when Argyle tightens his hold on his back would beg to differ.

The next wedding they attend is for one of Argyle’s uncles. Jonathan is a little surprised to be asked to tag along as his plus one but he doesn’t protest. He loves Argyle’s family and they love him.

Again during the ceremony, Argyle whispers, “That’s going to be us one day.”

They hadn’t brought up Joyce and Hopper’s wedding since it happened: The way they danced that entire reception, Argyle's simple declaration, nothing. Everything felt as it had been.

Although, they had become roommates in the interim. They shared meals. They shared a bathroom. They shared laughter and heartache. They shared blunts on a couch that was picked up from the side of the road. They shared their independence from adolescence.

But they were still just best friends.

Jonathan peeks around to make sure no one’s paying attention to them.

“You don’t think we’ll find anyone else?” Jonathan whispers.

Argyle tilts his head from side to side. “I don’t really want to. Do you?”

Jonathan blinks at him, opens his mouth a few times to say something, but ultimately doesn’t. They return their attention to the ceremony.

They don’t slow dance together at this reception and Jonathan tries to swallow his disappointment with a few fingers of bourbon. Not that he doesn’t have a good time letting loose with Argyle’s family and celebrating but there’s this tug in his chest the entire night. He's not sure where it came from.

He wonders if Argyle feels it too. 

They’re in the elevator on the way back to their shared hotel room when Jonathan blurts out, “You think we’re getting married?”

Argyle gives him a lazy grin. “ I do , man.”

They both start giggling at the double entendre and the elevator door opens to their floor. They stumble sleepily to the door and get inside. Argyle starts to get ready for bed until Jonathan tugs on his arm.

Argyle raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

“You’re gonna marry me someday but you’ve never kissed me.” Jonathan meant this more as a question than a statement but he does his best to stand tall and not back away from his feelings. Whatever his feelings might be right now, he's not entirely sure. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Argyle mumbles.

Jonathan hasn’t really thought this far but finds himself nodding before he can think otherwise.

Argyle takes a step closer, shaking Jonathan’s grip on his arm to hold his hand instead.

Jonathan intertwines their fingers, inhales and all he smells is Argyle, Argyle, Argyle .

“Are you going to remember me kissing you?” Argyle whispers, his breath hitting Jonathan’s face.

Jonathan checks in with himself. He’s not as crossfaded as he is just exhausted from the day. He can’t think of how he wouldn’t remember something like this.

Jonathan nods.

Argyle kisses him so tenderly and sweet that it makes his heart burst behind his ribs. Still, Jonathan kisses back and soon they’re up against the door. Jonathan’s free hand reaches up to hold the side of Argyle’s throat while Argyle’s free hand holds Jonathan’s waist. 

Argyle finds he likes the way their slight stubbles rub against each other. He likes the way Jonathan smiles into kisses like he’s just happy to be included. He likes the way Jonathan presses up against him like he can’t wait to get closer. 

They eventually stop kissing a little after subtle tongue and teeth have been involved. Argyle kisses either cheek and steps back. He observes the hazy look in Jonathan's eyes when they open, huffs an amused sound through his nose and walks off to the bathroom. 

“Thoughts? Comments? Concerns?” Argyle calls out.

Jonathan is frozen against the door, holding a shaky hand to his lips. “Uh,” Jonathan calls out. “Good.”

“Glad to hear it,” Argyle says with his head popped out the door. He closes the door and Jonathan hears the shower running. 

Jonathan slowly changes into his pajamas, still shaky and mushy from that damn good kiss. He eyes the bed he was supposed to sleep in with disdain and decides that he’s going to crawl under Argyle’s sheets instead. 

Jonathan’s out like a light within minutes. Argyle exits the bathroom in just some boxers and crawls in beside him. He kisses the top of Jonathan’s head and wraps his arms around him. Jonathan snuggles into his warm, freshly cleaned body, tucking his head into his neck. 

Jonathan does remember the kiss the next day and wants more. Argyle is happy to give them to him. 

A few years later, Max and Lucas are getting married. Argyle and Jonathan have been dating since the last wedding so Jonathan’s not caught as off-guard when, like clockwork, Argyle leans in to whisper, “That’s gonna be us one day.”

Jonathan squeezes the hand that’s resting on his shoulder, tangling their fingers together. 

“Do you want a big ceremony like this?” Jonathan asks. 

“Hmm,” Argyle hums. “Maybe something more lowkey.”

“Courthouse?”

Argyle’s face scrunches up. “I don’t like government buildings.”

“Church?”

“Do you believe in God?” Argyle asks with a disbelieving look. 

Jonathan chuckles under his breath. “Sure don’t.”

“We’ll find somewhere just for us,” Argyle promises. 

Jonathan smiles and kisses the square of his jaw. “We will.”

At this wedding, Jonathan and Argyle can dance the entire time. They can dip and kiss and be wrapped up in each other’s arms. Argyle even lets Jonathan lead a few of their dances, though he’s garbage at it. They can allow themselves to feel the gushy romantic feelings when people give their speeches and when they see the way Lucas and Max look at each other. 

Towards the end of the night while people are calling cabs and giving long, midwestern goodbyes, Argyle and Jonathan are seated at their table, messing with the ice in their empty drinks. Argyle holds out his hand and Jonathan places his hand in his.

“I don’t think I can do another dance,” Jonathan says with a yawn. “Plus I think the DJ is packing up for the night.”

Argyle quietly turns Jonathan’s hand so his ring finger is out. Argyle ties the paper from his straw around the finger in a little knot and kisses it gently. Jonathan’s breath is taken away.

“A placeholder,” Argyle explains with a soft smile.

“If you say so.”

“I’ve been saying so,” Argyle teases.

Jonathan picks up his straw wrapper and does the same to Argyle’s ring finger. Kisses it gently and everything. Whispers, “Then I’m saying so too.”

The promise is made at every wedding for the next few years. The whispered dialogue during the ceremony, the paper rings, the closeness during slow dances. Sealing it and sealing it over and over.

It’s not a Surfer Boy Pizza van anymore, but rather the lookalike van Argyle bought himself after he quit working there. The hunk of junk that holds his entire heart. Jonathan and him drive it all over the country, fluff it up with pillows and a camping mattress, and sleep under the stars. They’re currently in Mexico on a beach, watching the sun start to set behind the miles of the bluest ocean water you’ve ever seen. Jonathan is busy unwrapping their food from the restaurant down the street when Argyle clears his throat. 

Jonathan looks up and sees Argyle holding a ring box. He lamely sets the cardboard tins of food behind him and gives Argyle his full attention. 

“Jonathan Byers,” Argyle starts, “The most radical dude in the entire universe. Will you do me the honors of being my husband?”

Argyle opens the ring box and it’s stunning.

“When did you‒?” Jonathan asks.

“While you got dinner. Found this adorable little jewelry vendor when we were walking around yesterday and told her to hold onto this for me. I got myself one too but…” Argyle looks at him pointedly, his dark eyes vulnerable and pleading for an answer. 

“Yes, dude, yes, of course,” Jonathan laughs, leaning in to kiss him sweetly. 

Argyle slides the ring onto his finger and kisses the knuckle. Jonathan slides the other ring onto Argyle’s finger and another laugh bubbles out of him.

“All those years ago, at Joyce and Hopper’s wedding, how did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That we were gonna get married.”

“I didn’t,” Argyle admits. “I just wanted it to happen.”

“But you were so confident,” Jonathan admires. “So sure I’d say yes.”

“I was never sure of that,” Argyle explains. “I just thought if I said it enough, maybe one day, you’d feel the same way. I never really expected you to. I was just a hopeful man.”

“I mean, you threw me for a loop but then, you did start to make some sense. I was starting to think maybe I didn’t want anyone else. Then you kissed me and it was all over,” Jonathan admits bashfully, leaning his head on Argyle’s shoulder. 

“So my plan worked,” Argyle states with a confident smile.

“It did, you relentless bastard,” Jonathan sighs as Argyle hugs him close and peppers his face with wet, smacking, ridiculous kisses.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Steve’s been running a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth in front of the stove for almost ten minutes. She’s told him over and over to be confident, that he’s got nothing to lose and everything to gain. But he’s still nervous. And to be fair, she can’t hold it against him. It took her ages to ask Nancy out.

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve sighs, “are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes, Dingus, he likes you. Eddie never pulls the tips of my hair or holds my hand or leans on my shoulder. Because people only do that if they’re interested in someone. Right?” Her cheeks twitch under the strain of her reassuring smile.

“Yeah…?” He shines with guarded hope.

Robin can’t help but ask, for what has to be the millionth time, “have you at least told him you’re bisexual?”

Steve’s eyes dim again and it’s all the answer she needs. Honestly, he’s doing a hell of a lot better than she expected. He’s told a few people so far– as practice, Rob, with the easy people– including her and Nancy, Dustin, Max and Lucas. It might have been practice to start, but now he’s just stalling the inevitable. And they both know it.

“Let’s go back out there,” Robin encourages. She throws her arm over his broad shoulders, highlighted by the plain indigo t-shirt that’s on the right side of too small. They’d picked it out together: something dark and tight for Eddie, yet something still classically Steve. 

He nods as she hauls him back towards the living room, two cold six packs in their hands. The group’s Saturday movie night tradition at Steve’s had been going well so far. After a few joints, Argyle suggested a drinking game, hence the beers. Eddie, Steve, and Robin were quick to jump on the bandwagon, leaving Nancy and Jonathan as sober cabs for Robin and Argyle, who’d just rented a new apartment in town.

Eddie, very pointedly, hadn’t committed to how his night would end. Robin snorted when his eyes darted to Steve to gauge his reaction as they coordinated cars, even though her poor best friend was completely oblivious to Eddie’s blush.

Steve’d been in the middle of ordering pizza when he’d overheard their planning and almost dropped the phone, bulldozing their conversation to shout, “Teddy, why don’t you just spend the night, since your van is back at your– oh, hi yeah can we get one large–” and Eddie sagged in relief. 

Robin loves them, but my god are they actual idiots. Even Nancy couldn’t help but giggle at their antics, Eddie smacking her lightly on the arm in protest of her teasing. The two have become increasingly close since Eddie’s two month stint in the hospital recovering from demon bat rabies. Not rabies, Robin! Just a normal infection.

It was a shock at first, to find Eddie and Nancy spending time together away from everyone else. They just didn’t seem to fit together, from the outside looking in. But much like Steve and Robin, all you had to do was look past the surface.

Which means if Robin can successfully set up Steve and Eddie, they’ll create the perfect little quad. Sometimes she gets caught up imagining their double dates, if onlookers would be surprised to find Robin on Steve’s arm and Nancy on Eddie’s, and not the other way around.

They’d be able to go on actual dates in public. She could hold Nancy’s hand under the table and lean her head on Steve’s shoulder. He’d give her a light kiss on the forehead while playing footsie with Eddie under the table. Then Robin would go home with Nancy and fall asleep wrapped up in each other like a dream.

It’s the perfect plan. Or at least, it would be if the boys could just take their heads out of their asses. 

So as the six of them lazed around all day, Robin and Nancy made sure Steve and Eddie were always next to each other; although, they really didn’t have to try that hard. The boys reflexively sought each other out, eyes catching from across the room, or shoulders brushing sitting side by side. 

They were the only two who shared a joint, even though Argyle had plenty to pass around. Steve whined about his low tolerance, how he didn’t need a full one, only for Eddie to fall over himself– literally, with how fast he turned to face him, almost smacking Steve in the head– to offer his own to share.

So when they walk back into the room and something feels just slightly off, Robin briefly wonders if her own smoke was stronger than normal, even though she’d only felt a slight buzz. That maybe, hopefully, this is some awful hallucination and the joints were laced with acid.

Argyle’s sitting on the sofa next to Jonathan right where they’d left him, now lazed over the arm and lightly snoring with his feet curled up underneath him like a giant cat. Eddie’s still sitting on the floor next to Jon’s legs, an open space to his right where Steve had been sitting only minutes ago. Except there’s something different with Nancy. 

Nancy had been sitting in the chair across from Argyle earlier, complaining about Robin’s bony ass digging into her leg but refusing to let her up. Now she’s standing by the opening of the hallway, almost like she was waiting for them to come back. She's biting her lip, eyes wide, ringing her hands in front of her like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

Robin moves towards her, anxious to know what’s got her so upset. She notices Nancy’s eyes flitting between Steve and the boys, so Robin follows her gaze.

Jon’s bent forward, leaning down over Eddie like they're sharing a secret. His hand cradles Eddie’s cheek, and Robin can see the moment Eddie fits himself between Jon’s legs. Eddie cranes his neck as he turns to face him. It’s uncoordinated roaming hands and sloppy lips, too much tongue– and the sounds. Wet, slurping and sucking she’ll never be able to unhear, obnoxiously loud and seared into her brain.

They're kissing.

Robin’s going to throw up. She’s died, this must be hell. No wonder why Nance looks so freaked out. None of them knew about Jonathan. Sure, they all wondered if he and Argyle had something going on, but no one pried, and the two had never said anything. Objectively, Robin knows this wouldn’t bother Nancy. She and Jonathan dated almost three years ago, they’ve both moved on and are good friends at this point. So why would she–

Jonathan opens his eyes to find them watching. They crinkle around a smile as he looks behind her and tugs on Eddie’s curls. Without breaking eye contact, he shoves his tongue deep into Eddie’s mouth, who then moans in response. Robin’s not sure if Eddie knows they’re in the room, but Jonathan sure as hell does. 

It takes her too long to put it together, to realize Jonathan’s not looking at her or Nancy. There’s a small whimper behind her where his gaze is locked and he smiles again, triumphant.

Robin rounds on Steve, who’s frozen to the spot. All the blood’s drained from his face, leaving him pale and sickly looking like he could pass out any second. He isn’t blinking. He’s staring and staring and staring, completely enraptured by the scene unfolding before them. 

She bodily moves herself in front of him, thankful more than she’s ever been that he’s a little short for a boy and she’s a little tall for a girl. He won’t look at her, he can’t see her standing right in front of him, his eyes a million miles away. She grabs both of his hands and digs her nails into the meat of his palms.

His eyes finally snap to hers, and she almost wishes they hadn’t. Steve’s hands practically vibrate within her own, matching the wobbling of his lip and the shimmering on his lash line. 

“Robs,” Steve croaks, the rest of his thought lodged in his throat.

There’s nothing she can do as she watches Steve’s heart shatter in real time, cracked down the center like it was struck with a bolt of lightning. 

“Steve,” Eddie calls out in concern, “are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Robin turns around to face him, keeping her place in front of Steve like a shield. She catches the downcast of Jonathan’s eyes as his hand threads through the ends of Eddie’s hair, lips still loose and open waiting for the next kiss. But now Eddie’s pushing himself up from the floor, brows drawn tight together, fixated on Steve like he’s the only boy in the room.

Except she’s seen him look at Steve that way a thousand times in the months since they barely survived hell together. Eddie looked at Steve with stars in his eyes, like he was the man of his dreams. How he would grow wider and taller and louder if Steve kept laughing until he’d snort. A sound Eddie fucking loved. She’d watch Eddie take care of Steve during migraines, scrape his fingernails down his scalp until Steve fell asleep, head cradled in Eddie’s lap.

Robin loved watching Eddie watch Steve because, for the first time, it felt like someone finally saw in him what she’s always seen. She’s wanted nothing more for Steve than to have someone in his life who loves and takes care of him as much as she does. And Robin was so, so fucking sure that that person was Eddie Munson.

How things have gone horribly wrong.

Steve catches Eddie’s movement and bolts back toward the kitchen, faster than she’s ever seen him move on the court. Nancy moves to follow him but Robin slips her hand into hers. Beautiful, sweet, smart, wonderful Nancy Wheeler understands Robin quick as a flash, shoring up next to her to help block the hallway. 

Eddie stands on tiptoes in front of them, stretching his neck to catch a glimpse of what Robin hopes is a closed door.

“What happened?” Eddie’s genuinely concerned, and Robin has to shove down the warm, fuzzy feeling she normally gets when Eddie asks about Steve in favor of the overwhelming urge to murder everyone in this room. Except for Nancy, and maybe Argyle, who’s started slowly waking up from the commotion.

Robin obnoxiously shifts to the side to block Eddie’s path. “Don’t worry about it, Munson. He’s fine, just a little sick from the shitty weed.” The weed isn’t shitty– it’s Argyle’s. It’s the first excuse her brain concocted. But it doesn’t really matter. 

Her tone is barbed, meant to dig the hurt in deep and hook it inside his skin. She’s never considered herself a mean person. Apparently all someone has to do is hurt her best friend. Eddie flinches away, nose flared and eyes crinkled, ready to argue back until Nancy interrupts them both. 

“If Steve isn’t feeling well,” her voice chimes with a practiced false sincerity, “maybe we should all head home and let him rest.” God Robin fucking loves this woman. Always quick on her feet, fast on the uptake.

Robin’s gaze is unyielding in the face of an angry Eddie Munson. They both know, under normal circumstances, Robin would back down by now. Every second he’s forced to soak in her wrath, she catches him shrinking further in on himself. There’s uncertainty growing in the uptick of his brows, the crease of his forehead. He’s tugging at the hem of his sleeveless Queen t-shirt.

Her lip pulls up into a fierce scowl in recognition. Robin tugs at the front of the shirt hard enough to stretch it out. She’s not too worried about ruining it anymore than it already is. There’s white paint stains on the shoulders from when Steve begged her to help give his bedroom walls a base coat. Little holes dotted along the hemline from Steve’s poorly-ashed joint a few months ago.

The shirt is old, faded, well-loved, and Steve’s. It’s all the reasons why Eddie asked to keep it, and why Steve didn’t hesitate to give it up, wanting Eddie to always have a little piece of him.

Robin’s white-knuckled grip stretches the shirt enough that the sound of ripping causes Eddie to try and escape. When she lets go, a few of the holes in the hemline have torn together. He stumbles backwards, smoothing out the new stretch marks on what’s left of the printed lettering.

Robin revels in the moment he truly recognizes what he's wearing. His face now completely devoid of the Freak’s bravado and misplaced anger. What’s left is a montage of emotions like confusion, frustration, and panic, running him over like a bulldozer and Robin gets to watch each hit smash him deeper into the dirt.

“Yeah, Nancy might be right,” Jonathan sighs, sounding faux-tired and yet all too pleased to call it early. He slaps his knees as he stands and gives Argyle’s shoulder enough of a shake to get the guy up and moving.

They gather their things, Nancy wandering over to help push them along, while Eddie and Robin stand as stone pillars facing each other. She’d plant herself here the rest of her life if it meant keeping her soulmate safe.

“Robin,” Eddie practically whimpers, “please–”

“Hey, uh, Teddy?” Jonathan chirps up happily from across the room. Eddie’s eyes slip closed in pain when Robin mockingly mouths the nickname back at him– one she thought was special, just for Steve. “I’ve still got a few more pre-rolls, want to head back to my place?”

Eddie’s eyes fly open. A sardonic smile splits her face as he chokes on his own spit in response. “Guess this means you won’t be staying. Right, Teddy?”

Eddie flinches when Jon slings a heavy arm over his shoulders, which morphs into a possessive claim when he drops his arm to wrap around Eddie’s waist, going so far as to slip the tip of his finger into the top of Eddie’s skin-tight jeans.

Robin notices Argyle’s hair dip forward to hide his face. It’s only now she realizes he’s missed everything that’s happened. Sure enough, she barely catches the shock in his eyes before he turns away.

This is such a fucking nightmare. If she breaks Jonathan’s head open with the nail bat upstairs, she wonders if she’ll be able to see the part of his brain that’ll tell her what the hell he was thinking when he decided to kiss Eddie.

Moving to extricate himself from Jonathan’s hold, Eddie awkwardly chuckles. “Actually, Johnny-boy, I think I might just head home instead.”

“Oh,” Jonathan frowns, in a way that Robin absolutely hates. “How are you going to get home? Didn’t Steve pick you up earlier?”

Eddie– eyes still locked on Robin– very obviously flounders for an excuse and Robin’s enjoying watching him grasp at straws. “I’ll just walk home. Little bit of fresh air never killed anyone, right?”

“No, dude,” Jonathan croons, “I can give you a ride. I’m more than happy to go a little out of my way if it’s for you. Maybe we can smoke at your place instead?”

Jonathan’s free hand reaches up towards Eddie’s hair again, like a little boy pulling his crushes pigtails for attention. But Eddie practically throws himself at the opposite wall, putting as much space between them as he can without actually running down the front door.

“I’m dropping off Argyle, anyway,” Nancy jumps in to save the day, her hand gently patting Argyle’s shoulder, “and you two live the same direction. So why don’t I drive Eddie home instead?”

“Please,” Eddie begs, staring at Robin as he melts with relief into the wall. “That’s great, yes. Thanks Nance.”

Jonathan seems to have shrugged off the entire exchange as he moves towards the door to slip his shoes on. Nancy and Argyle are already ready to go, waiting on Eddie, who’s slowly backing his way toward them and still looking at her. This might be the first staring contest Robin’s ever won in her whole life. 

Once he’s finally got his shit together, Eddie looks her up and down, confusion scrunched between his eyes. “Aren’t you coming with? You said you and Nancy were–”

“I think I’ll be staying here, thanks,” Robin states flatly. 

Eddie chews on his lip, but nods and heads out the door, Jonathan still hot on his heels. Her and Nancy exchange a quick I love you, good luck, keep me updated goodbye before she shuts the door behind her.

Every fantasy Robin imagined about a future filled with her favorite people fell apart in the span of five minutes. She can’t help but wonder if they had just gone back to the party sooner. If Steve had confessed to Eddie yesterday. If Eddie hadn’t gotten so high or maybe even if Jonathan had an ounce of common sense, this could’ve been avoided. 

Robin could be lying in bed with Nancy tonight, wrapped around each other, comfortable and warm. She could fall asleep proud that Steve had finally worked up the courage to confess how he felt. She could’ve woken up tomorrow imagining her two favorite dinguses were in a similar tangled mess of limbs, and she could smile knowing they finally found each other.

Ao3

But now, silence presses against the walls of this empty house, pushing at the ceiling and cracking the foundation. It sits heavy on her chest. Her head’s filled with static and she thinks she finally understands the juxtaposition of a loud silence. But a weak sob cuts the air like a jagged shard of glass. Turning towards the kitchen, she shores up everything she has left in her to help her soulmate pick up the shattered pieces of his broken heart.

Part 2

[rottedlilacs]

i love the arcane fandom but y’all can’t FUCKING multi ship

the stranger things fandom post s4 would’ve given some of y’all aneurisms WE HAD SEVERAL POLYCULES. YALL CAN BARELY HANDLE JAYMELVIK OR WHATEVER. GOOD GOD.

we. are losing. recipes.

[thefreakandthehair]

Spicy Six -Ber Month Fanworks Challenge

It's that time again! I'm so excited to host the Third Annual Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge, with a twist this year! Rather than winter-specific prompts, we have a mix of both fall and winter prompts. With all of the fun October events happening, this felt like the best way to capture both seasons. The past couple of years hosting the seasonal challenges has been such a blast, and I can't wait to see what people come up with this time around!

Here are the rules: 

It's a Spicy Six challenge so of course, you must include someone from the Spicy Six (Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, Eddie, Steve, Argyle). Don't feel pressured to include everyone, of course. You can be ship-specific or general. Chrissy is also included! (I know that makes seven– I just don't want to change the title, honestly.)

There are two links below, one for dialogue prompts and one for more general prompts. There will be a claims process, but I've decided to make it easier for everyone (myself included) and will not be limiting how many people can claim the same prompt this year. In years past, it's led to a lot of back and forth trying to choose second options, third options, etc. and there's more than enough creativity in this fandom for people to make vastly different interpretations of the same prompt!

To claim a prompt, simply shoot me a DM with which prompt you'd like from what list (i.e.: prompt 6 from dialogue prompts'). Since I'm not limiting prompts, don't worry if I don't get right back to you!

One prompt per person. You're welcome to use as many as you like, but you can only claim one.

No restrictions for fanart, and no word count minimum or maximum for fics. Long fics, ficlets, drabbles, all are welcome.

Posting will run from November 15th through December 31st. Additional posting details here!

When you post, please use the tag spicysixbermonthchallenge and tag me so I can see and reblog it!

Please feel free to reblog to spread and signal boost.

Dialogue Prompts Here Inspiration Prompts Here

tagging some peeps who've been along for the ride before/expressed interest & some writing/art pals (this is open to everyone!! not just those tagged!): @starrystevie @hexiewrites @stevespookington @withacapitalp @maxinemaxmayfield

@maxineholtzmann @stevethehairington @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @formosusiniquis @sourw0lfs

@steddieas-shegoes @steddieasitgoes @judasofsuburbia @kkpwnall @thisapplepielife

@werepuppy-steve @medusapelagia @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @starthecozy @sidekick-hero

@shares-a-vest @steddie-island @acasualcrossfade @hbyrde36 @ao3usermelancholyhues

@cuips-not-cute @arelliann @stervrucht @griefabyss69 @kaspurrcat

@sparkle-fiend @ahhrenata @nostalgicbones @henderdads @undreaming-fanfiction

@riality-check @wynnyfryd @aidaronan @stevesbipanic @hereforanepilogue

[hyperactivelion]

Steve, Eddie, Johnathan and Argyle got high together, and are sprawled out in the Harrington living room. No one knows how long they've been silent. Steve is lying stretched out on the carpet. Eddie is lying on the couch. Jonathan is sitting in the matching chair. And Argyle is sat on the floor with his back against the two seater.

Thus far, Eddie has been very preoccupied looking at Steve. Thinking about how pretty he is. How floofy his hair is. How flawless his skin is. How he could make constellations out of the birthmarks that pepper his face and body. How soft his lips look, and how kissable. He's about to take his time looking at Steve's eyes, when he notices the faraway and sad look in them.

"Hey, Steve-o. What're you thinking 'bout?" Eddie asks, hating that Steve looks sad. He got such a beautiful smile, it's not fair that someone with such a beautiful smile has so many reasons to be sad.

"I miss hugs," Steve says. His filter completely disappears when he smokes. "Robin doesn't like hugs so I can't ask her. And don't get me wrong, sex is great and all, but sometimes I just wanna cuddle. But if you ask a girl over to cuddle she thinks something's wrong with you, and gets all mad and shit. Or she thinks something's wrong with her and she freaks out. But hugs are great. And cuddling is great. And I miss it." After his little ramble he lets out a tired sigh, like it's been weighing on him awhile.

It damn near breaks Eddie's heart. To hear that Steve is so fucking desperate for just a hug. Poor, beautiful Steve.

"Aww! Bro-chacho, get your cute butt over here! I'll cuddle you!" Argyle says and opens his arms wide.

Steve gets this dopey smile on his face and scoots over to Argyle. He settles happily between other guys raised knees, back to chest, and Argyle wraps his arms around Steve. Once they settle he gives Steve a squeeze, and Steve relaxes further into the embrace.

Meanwhile... Eddie is fucking fuming! That was an opening?! He didn't know it was an opening! Otherwise he would've taken it! Before the dumb hippie could have!

Ok, that's not fair. Argyle is cool. And his supply is fan-fucking-tastic, and seemingly never ending.

But also how dare he call Steve's ass "a cute butt"?!

First of all, it's a work of god! Or maybe the devil, 'cause it sure inspires a lot of sin. Second of all, it's an ass, not a butt. It may be pedantic, but there is a difference. Third... He might not have a third... But that should be his fucking hug!

That ass is his!

He just hasn't told anyone yet.

But it's like an unspoken claim!

Not that a person can claim another person.

When you think about it it's so fucking weird that people say they own their dog or cat. That's just a little dude that's chilling rent-free. But no one owns the little dude.

Eddie's thoughts drift off. Steve and Argyle stay cuddled up the rest of the night. Whenever Eddie glances over he's back to fuming, but he distracts himself easily enough.

"Wait..." Jonathan pipes up. "Girls get mad at you when you don't have sex with them?" he asks, looking like the poster child for high and confused.

Eddie has no idea what he's talking about. But apparently the others follow.

"Yeah," Steve says with a shrug. And Eddie has completely forgotten the conversation from 20 minutes ago, but he can still relate; he's very mad that he's not having sex with Steve right now.

"Girls like sex too, dude," Argyle says sagely. But Jonathan just keeps looking confused.

__________________________________________

After that night Argyle beelines for Steve any time they all meet up, to give him a big hug. The first time it happens the kids expect Steve to push him off or something. But Steve just gets this huge smile that takes over his entire face and hugs Argyle back.

Eddie is losing his god-damned-mind about it!

Nancy and Robin doesn't know what happened at "boys night" (all four boys object to them calling it that), but they're taking bets who's gonna break first, Eddie or Jonathan.

Robin wins.

Eddie never was any good at keeping his mouth shut.

(I didn't even read through this, hope it's decent, and that there aren't too many spelling mistakes)

[stmarchmm]

We’re less than two weeks away from the start of March Mating Madness!!!! Which prompts have you already mentally put a star next to for safekeeping?⭐️

[strangerthingsfanworkrecs]

With a Little Help From My Friends by 1lostsoul0fishbowl

@1lostsoul0fishbowl

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

207,202 words, 84/84 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Vecna is Defeated (Stranger Things), Found Family, Slice of Life, Fluff, Family Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Good Parent Wayne Munson, hellcheer - Freeform, El is an empath because why the hell not, Will and Chrissy are kicking asses and taking names, everyone gets the support they need in this universe, Eddie and Max as siblings is my entire world, Erica is the official queen of Hellfire, Not Jason Carver Friendly, Steve and Robin are the ultimate dynamic duo, Wayne and Claudia are A Thing now and I love it, We ship El and Gareth in this universe, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Eddie Munson is a Mess, Mama Bear Stevie is Steve’s official title now, Maxine "Max" Mayfield Needs a Hug, Max actually needs ALL the hugs, The Munson-Mayfield Sibling Doctrine and the Harrington-Henderson Father/Son Doctrine are merging, it’s just one big Family Doctrine now, final chapter is HELLCHEER WEDDING

Summary:

A glimpse into post-Vecna life for the whole s4 gang… Covering two years after spring break ‘86, this collection of stories intertwines into a tale of found family, love, support, overcoming challenges, forgiveness, and the power of friendship. An assortment of “slice of life” one-shots, a little angst here and there, but mostly fluff and always a happy ending. Fairly Eddie-centric but everyone in the entire crew shows up at some point or another. Most ships are background!!! (This is much more of a found-family fic than a shippy one.) Each chapter a different POV. Enjoy the wholesomeness.

This rec is for our Artist Highlights. Our featured artist this week is 1lostsoul0fishbowl

Know a stranger things artist that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks!

[nebulaoz]

the beating of our hearts is the only sound.

steve, eddie, robin, nancy, johnathon and argyle are all packed in steve's beemer. johnathon and argyle in the empty trunk (besides the nail bat) and nancy and robin in the back. eddie is in the passenger and steve driving.

the group is chattering about what juice is the best, steve personally thinks orange juice or apple but grape is good too, until the beat and snare of the iconic "I Think Were Alone Now" by Tiffany sneaks in on the beemer's radio.

steve chortles and giggles, "ohohohoohh!!"

"oh no.." nancy murmurs and robin groans along with johnathon and argyle's mellow chuckling.

eddie is confused, very confused. "what? whats happening?"

before anyone can answer steve drums loudly on the steering wheel and belts out, "'children behave!!!' thats what they saaayyy when we're togethaaaaah!!!" in perfect, masculine song.

eddies eyebrows are in the sky at this point. he, (1, did not know steve could sing (especially this well) and (2, sing Tiffany of all singers.

"'and watch how you plaaay!!' they dont understand and so we're running just as fast as we caaan! holdin onto one anothers hand!!"

steve turns to him right when the stop goes to yellow.

"tryna' get away into the night and then you put your arms around me and we tumble to the ground and then you say, 'i think were alone now."

the light turns green and steve continues singing.

eddies eyes are full of stars and he doesnt even care about how everyone is definitely not looking at him as steve performs like a professional singer.

robin whispers to him in his ear and goes, "this is dingus' favorite song. remember to breath, by the way. " she smirks and pushes eddies jaw back up with a little 'clack' of his teeth.

steves moles are moving with his jaw, singing loudly. his adams-apple keeps bobbing up and down and eddie swallows the urge to sink his teeth in it. he'll do that when they get to steve's house.

steve's eyes glimmer with the passion of Tiffany's warm vocals that he so-perfectly matches.

after the song is finished he's panting, sweating a little after his performance like a dog.

the next song that plays on the god-foresaken beemer radio is "I Was Made For Lovin' You" by none other than KISS.

if eddie was falling before, he's completely gone as steve starts to belt out this song too.

"sorry for interrupting your awesome vocals there but i think your friend is gonna explode." argyle points out melodically.

steve pants and stops to look at eddie with concerning espresso and caramel dripping eyes. god he could and will get lost in his eyes. their practically so sweet he could lick them, he can just taste the syrup on them.

steves voice snaps him out of his daze.

"eddie? you alright?" theyve finally reached steves house and eddie fucking pounces on him, giving him the sloppiest kiss known to man. guilt drips through him but quickly fades away as steve presses back, curling his fingers in eddies hair.

the rest of the group groan and chuckle as they all exit, giving them some well-deserved privacy.

--

songs mentioned: I Think We're Alone Now" by Tiffany - "I Was Made For Loving You" by KISS

[bigskyandthecoldgun]

perfectly un-ordinary

words: 4,979

ao3

Nancy’s soulmark is perfectly ordinary.

Just a simple bird on a branch. Birdie is written underneath it in loopy, neat handwriting. It fits neatly over two of her ribs, which is a perfectly normal place for it. Nothing extraordinary about it. Just a simple design that represents the nickname given to her soulmate by the most important person in her soulmate’s life. Typically, it’s the nickname that soulmates end up giving to each other, but the handwriting…isn’t Nancy’s.

The handwriting is Steve Harrington’s.

Whoever her soulmate is, Steve Harrington, at some point, will end up calling them Birdie.

Whoever her soulmate is, Steve Harrington will be the most important person in their life.

She stares down at the note in her locker, the all-too-familiar handwriting that makes the spot on her ribs burn, the sweet and surprisingly kind words from the most popular boy in school, who’s asking her out. Nancy can’t imagine her soulmate being someone like Tommy Hagan or Carol Perkins, because they’re awful, and she doesn’t even understand why Steve hangs out with them. But those are Steve’s closest friends.

Nancy goes out with him anyway, because he’s the most popular boy in school, and he’s gorgeous, and she figures she’s got time before he ends up calling someone else Birdie,��which means she’ll eventually have to break up with him. But he’s good to her, and while she knows it’s doomed, it’s fun and new. It’s something easy, and they both know they might not last forever, because Steve makes a remark about how her handwriting is so tiny, says some cheesy line about how it must be hard to read her own soulmark, and she lets herself giggle along.

She doesn’t see Steve’s soulmark, not even when they’re both naked and tangled in his sheets; she figures it must be somewhere unique, somewhere out of the ordinary. But she’s careful, keeps hers covered. It’s not hard to, in the dark, if she keeps her upper arm by her side. She buys soulmark patches the next morning, because there’s that weird guilt in her gut, and she can’t make eye contact with herself in the mirror as she adheres the patch to her two ribs.

After the demogorgon, after Barb, after the lights and the gun and the nailbat, Nancy briefly entertains the idea that maybe Steve considers himself the most important person in his life, venomously thinks that, sitting with him at the Hollands’ dinner table, it wouldn’t be out of character for him to be that self-absorbed. She feels guilty almost immediately for thinking that, of course, but…it’s hard.

And when she learns on November first that she’d thrown the fact that they could never work in his face, that she knew they’d been doomed from the start and told him as much, told him he was bullshit, she gets defensive. Brushes him off.

He’s not really her soulmate anyway, so what does it matter?

She can’t imagine her soulmate is Jonathan, either, even with his lips on hers, her body under his, because he and Steve hate each other, but he’s sweet, he’s soft, he wants justice, justice the same way she does. He holds her like she’s something special, even though she can see the surfboard on his collarbone, the word Dude underneath it in Jonathan’s own handwriting. He’s like her, then, open to whatever gender his soulmate might be, boy or girl, and he isn’t afraid to show her things like that. He isn’t closed-off. Not like Steve was.

Steve.

God, Nancy still can’t believe he’d just given her a sad smile and told her to go with Jonathan. It bodes well for staying in his social circle, for perhaps eventually meeting the ever-elusive Birdie, though Nancy’s hope dwindles with every passing day Steve remains at a steady zero friends outside of their ragtag, world-saving group.

She hates that her soulmate is contingent on Steve staying in her life. She hates that he’ll probably have a hand in introducing them to her. She hates the way she still hasn’t apologized. Hates the way Mike says Steve’s name with a sneer every time he’s brought up in conversation, because her little brother is nothing if not loyal, and it hadn’t even been Steve’s fault, not really. Though Steve hadn’t exactly been the best boyfriend, he hadn’t deserved that.

If he’s the most important person in Nancy’s soulmate’s life, Nancy’s eventually going to have to swallow her pride and make amends.

But for now, she has Jonathan. She only has to worry about Jonathan. And she loves him, she thinks, in a way she hadn’t loved Steve. Maybe she hadn’t let herself, because she knew that it couldn’t be him, but she might not be letting herself love Jonathan the way he deserves, either. Maybe she’s not trying hard enough to understand his side of things when they get into an argument the summer before senior year, but she thinks of Dude and their surfboard, and she thinks he might not be letting himself love her the way she deserves, either.

She stops bothering with the soulmark patches that night. Nancy figures that it’s not worth the hassle anymore, if Jonathan’s just gonna keep being his same bullheaded self. So she sets her jaw and keeps investigating, because that’s what she’s good at, and it gets her into a whole heaping helping of trouble. By the end of it, though, after the flesh monster and Russians under the mall, she and Jonathan have more than made up.

And he’s good to her. He’s good to her like no one else has been, he’s safe. He’s familiar enough that it gives her the comfort to get through the rest of the summer. They even make plans to apply to the same colleges—hopefully Emerson, Nancy’s got her fingers crossed that they’ll both be early acceptance—but Jonathan’s moving away. It’ll be harder, the long distance, but Nancy thinks it’ll be worth it to try.

They’ve been through too much together not to try, right? Screw Steve and his Birdie, Nancy will find a way to bend those letters until they read Jon in Will’s handwriting, until the bird on the branch becomes a camera, she’ll do it out of spite, she’ll find a way. Who cares if their relationship isn’t universe-approved? They’re good. They’re familiar. They’re comfortable.

Jonathan calls her in December, after the Byers’ move. Tells her that he found someone whose soulmark is a camera. J-Man to match his Dude. Nancy grits her teeth and tells him she’s happy for him. He whispers that he still loves her, but. But. She wishes him luck with his soulmate and hangs up, spending the rest of the break holed up in her room.

It’s not until the day after New Years that Mike finally snaps.

“You’re a hermit,” he snaps at her when she slips out of her room to get a glass of water, which means he’s worried about her. She scowls at him, though, because she doesn’t want his worry, his pity. Mike rolls his jaw. “You’re—I get that you’re sad about Jonathan dumping you, but you can’t just—”

“He found his soulmate,” Nancy cuts in hollowly.

Mike blinks, shifts uncomfortably. “I didn’t know,” he mutters, all embarrassed, and Nancy just nods. She’s tired. She’s long since gone back to using the soulmark patches. She doesn’t need to see Steve Harrington’s handwriting mocking her in the mirror. Mike nudges at her ankle with his socked foot. “That sucks.”

She knows Mike doesn’t know how it feels, because he doesn’t have his soulmark yet. He’ll get it next year, sure—and he’s really cocky about guessing that it’s El—but he doesn’t get it yet. He’s been a real asshole, lately, more so than usual, and he smells gross most of the time, doesn’t bother with deodorant if he’s staying at home for the day, and he’s been hanging out with that guy that stands on the cafeteria tables too much, because he’s been dramatic as hell.

But he’s being kind to her now, even if his kindness is a little awkwardly stilted.

“My soulmark handwriting isn’t mine,” she confesses. She doesn’t know why she’s telling him. Their mom doesn’t even know. She’s never shown her own mother her soulmark. “It’s…the most important person in their life isn’t me. I thought I might eventually be Jonathan’s, that we could’ve—it’s stupid. Fucking…forget it.”

“No,” Mike says, all furrowed brows and determination. “It’s important.”

Nancy’s eyes start to well with tears, embarrassingly enough. “I wished it would change,” she whispers. “After Starcourt, I wished it would change. I wanted it to be a camera. I wanted to have different handwriting on my skin. I wanted to change it through…sheer will or some shit? I don’t know.”

Mike nods, like he gets it, even if he doesn’t. “What is it?” he asks, because he has no manners, in spite of their parents’ best efforts. At the hesitation that must show on Nancy’s face, Mike winces, backtracks. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. But…does anybody else know what it is?”

Shaking her head, Nancy sniffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “No. I used soulmark patches ’til Starcourt, but…Jonathan didn’t see it after, either,” she says.

Mike makes a face. “Oh, is it on, like, a gross part of your body? ’Cuz if that’s the case, I do not wanna see it—”

“Shut up, Mike,” Nancy laughs, “it’s on my ribs.”

Humming, Mike nods. “Suits you,” he says, and he doesn’t elaborate, and she doesn’t know what he means by that. But it’s nice nonetheless. She’s never heard it before. Mike tilts his head. “You wanna show me?”

Nancy bites her bottom lip. “Yeah, okay,” she murmurs, yanking the side of her shirt up just enough to show her bottom two ribs, and she picks at the soulmark patch that covers Birdie and the branch. “Just don’t, like, be an asshole about it, okay?”

Uncharacteristically serious, Mike nods again and keeps his eyes on her ribs as she peels the patch off. “Do you know whose handwriting it is?” he asks, and Nancy swallows.

“No,” she lies, and he lets her.

“It’s cool,” Mike decides, and Nancy lets her shirt fall. There’s a long moment where neither of them say anything, and Nancy takes the time the silence occupies to fill that glass of water she’d wanted. As she sips on it, Mike rocks on his heels and avoids her eye. “For what it’s worth, El’s probably gonna have your handwriting calling me a dick or something.”

Nancy’s heart seizes. “Oh,” she chokes. “Then, I—I think Birdie probably has yours.”

“Gross. I don’t like it when you’re sappy,” Mike groans, but there’s the hint of a smile on his face.

“You started it,” she scoffs.

Mike wrinkles his nose up at her. “Did not.”

She grins. “Did too.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “Whatever. Loser.”

Nancy goes into the New Year with a little less weight on her shoulders.

Then, because apparently she’s not allowed to relax for extended periods of time anymore, her spring break goes to hell. There’s a dead cheerleader, then a dead friend subordinate, and then she’s taking Robin to go investigate a shot-in-the-dark lead. Robin, Steve’s not-girlfriend, ends up finding something really worthwhile, and something new and exciting turns in Nancy’s gut when Robin goes on a tirade in the director’s office. She’s interested, intrigued, even, and she chocks it up to journalistic instinct for now, because she has more important things to worry about.

And Steve does his stupid heroics, diving into Lover’s Lake, and Robin and Eddie are too busy panicking, so Nancy jumps in first.

It’s only because no one else is going to.

It isn’t because of Birdie.

It isn’t because of Birdie, who she’s never met. It isn’t because if Steve dies, Birdie loses the most important person in their life. It isn’t because she cares whether Steve’s handwriting under the bird and the branch changes to someone else’s. It isn’t because of Robin’s voice cracking as she screams Steve’s name in panic. Nancy isn’t that selfless.

So it’s only because she’s got to be the leader.

That same reasoning is also why she wraps Steve’s wounds. If he bleeds out in the Upside Down because he decided to play the hero, she’s going to kill him. His death would be a major inconvenience, that’s all. That’s all it is.

Nancy stays with Robin, because Steve seems to be having a crisis that Eddie is not helping, and maybe it’s a little vindictive to leave a stressed-out Steve with the guy that refuses to respect his personal space, but Nancy is stressed out, too, and can’t bring herself to feel guilty about it. And Robin is funny, makes a joke about Nancy needing to hire a maid in the Upside Down version of her house. Nancy’s glad she’d decided to keep Robin company rather than either of the two boys.

Not that she has anything against Eddie, save for his theatrics. And her grudge against Steve is almost entirely baseless at this point. Whatever. Emotions take too much effort to parse through, and Nancy has to save that effort for sawing the end off a shotgun.

Which is not-so-technically a felony.

Steve tells her that his dream, with the six kids that Nancy doesn’t want and the white picket fence that makes Nancy nauseous, was about her.

“You’re not my soulmate,” she tells him, grim and annoyed. They have more important things to handle than his desperate, end-of-the-world delirium driven by blood loss and his crippling fear of dying alone.

“Right, yeah, I know that,” he says, ears tinged red with embarrassment. “Sorry to—”

“I don’t want an apology,” she snaps. “I want to kill Vecna.”

Steve nods, gestures for her to move ahead. “Let’s—so let’s go, then,” he says, and he sounds so horribly distraught. “Robin’s, um—she’s probably waiting on us to catch up.”

Nancy moves ahead wordlessly. She doesn’t want Steve’s advances, isn’t interested in rekindling things. She has no idea why he’s trying to fan flames that are nonexistent on her end, why he seems so confused at his own actions, and she doesn’t really care to find out. Not when they have to kill Henry Creel, not when there’s so much on the line.

And they do.

Kill Henry Creel, that is.

Not without consequence. Not without Steve carrying a barely-alive Eddie out of the Upside Down, and not without Max breaking three of her four limbs. But they’re both still alive, albeit in the hospital, Hawkins is still intact, and Nancy will count it as a win. Hopefully, it’s the final win. She can’t imagine having to go through something like this again.

The Byers family comes back into town, Mike, El, Murray, and Hopper in tow, the last of which is incredibly surprising, though through a long explanation about a Russian prison and an escape helicopter, Nancy supposes it makes sense. Things are tense and awkward between her and Jonathan, and between Jonathan and Mike, for whatever reason, and Nancy’s too focused on putting together a cover story with Owens that’ll clear Eddie’s name to bother with all that.

Birdie remains uninvestigated on her ribs, at least for a while.

She gets closer with Robin and Eddie, and getting closer with Robin means patching things up with Steve, because the two are virtually inseparable. It’s a painful and drawn-out conversation, full of begrudging apologies,  painful stitches over a wound that’s gone untended for too long. It sucks, but it’s necessary. Nancy knows it’s necessary, and not just for the sake of her friendship with Robin, not just for Birdie’s sake, but for her own, as well.

And for Steve’s. She’d hurt him, after all, and he’d been owed an apology for a long time.

They’re smoking in Eddie’s new government-gifted trailer—something Nancy had never thought she’d ever be doing—the first time the topic of soulmates-slash-soulmarks is brought up in their new little friend group.

“Have any of you guys met your soulmate?” Eddie asks, taking a long drag from the joint, and Robin shifts uncomfortably.

“I think I have,” she murmurs, “but I don’t know. I feel like…like my soulmate would’ve said, you know? But it’s a pretty common nickname for a pretty common name, so…”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Plus, it sucks when your soulmark’s handwriting isn’t your own, because then you have to rely on other people’s nicknames for your soulmate,” he groans, and Nancy sits up straighter. Eddie passes the joint to Steve. “And, like, then you have to ask people what their handwriting looks like, which makes them give you the saddest looks you’ve ever seen.”

“No one’s seen my soulmark but Mike,” Nancy says quietly. “So…at least I get what the first part’s like.”

“Your soulmark has someone else’s handwriting?” Steve asks her around a mouthful of smoke, and he sounds curious with just a hint of hurt, like he can’t believe she hasn’t told them. “D’you know whose it is?”

Nancy just shrugs.

“My soulmark has someone else’s handwriting, too,” Robin says. “I don’t know whose handwriting it is, either.”

There’s a little bit of guilt Nancy feels at that, because Robin and Eddie clearly think she’s able to commiserate with them about not being the most important person in their soulmates’ lives and not knowing who that other person is, but she can’t, because she knows exactly who that person is, and he’s in the room with them. Nancy takes the joint when Steve passes it to her and takes a quick pull, coughing slightly.

Eddie grins wolfishly at the sound. She flips him off. “Look, all I know is that when I meet my soulmate, we’re gonna have some words,” Eddie jokes, and Nancy laughs along with Steve and Robin. Eddie nods at the rest of them. “What do your marks look like? You don’t have to show it if you don’t want to, I’m just curious.”

Neither Robin nor Steve make any move to show theirs.

“It’s a bird,” Nancy says. “I, um—it’s a weird nickname. I don’t even know if—”

She cuts herself off. She can’t come out and say that she doesn’t know whether Steve’s even met Birdie yet. Mercifully, no one presses further.

“Mine’s a chart,” Eddie offers. “There’s, like, two categories, and whoever wrote them has the same handwriting as the, uh…the nickname.”

“A chart?” Robin asks, brows furrowed. “What kinda chart?”

“It’s just on, like, a piece of paper or something, I don’t know,” Eddie huffs with a frustrated shrug, and Steve lays back until his head’s on Robin’s lap.

“I know who mine is,” he says quietly.

That’s news to all of them, it would seem.

Immediately, Eddie and Robin jump into hounding him about who it is, and Nancy is content to sit back and let it happen until Steve’s face screws up into an expression she only remembers from hazy, drunken memories. “Both of you, shut up!” she says, and they do, because even outside of the Upside Down, her voice carries some authority.

“Thanks,” Steve murmurs.

Nancy nods.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you figured it out,” Robin tuts, and Steve reaches up to tap her nose with his pointer finger.

“You’ve seen his soulmark?” Eddie asks her, and Robin nods, a glint in her eye Nancy recognizes as the same glint she’d had there during her speech in the director’s office.

It makes Nancy’s face go hot.

It’s clear that Steve doesn’t want to keep talking about it, so Nancy pushes the conversation towards a debate on what movie they’ll be watching that night. As Robin and Eddie bicker, she locks eyes with Steve, who gives her a small, grateful smile. It feels good, feels like the real beginning of a genuine friendship.

And Nancy isn’t used to having this many friends. Sure, she’s surrounded by people at the school newspaper, but now she’s got people to walk through the halls with at school, people to sit next to in the cafeteria, and she hasn’t had that since…well, since Barb. It’s been years since she’s had a sleepover with friends, and she’s been having them almost every other day. It’s warm, and it’s good, and Nancy feels like she has a community to fall back on, people her age who really get her. It’s wonderful and nerve-wracking all at once.

“Whose handwriting is on your soulmark?” Steve asks her on a warm spring evening in April, while Robin and Eddie are bustling away in the kitchen in Steve’s big house.

For some reason, Nancy finds herself feeling comfortable enough to tell the truth. “Yours,” she says, a quiet confession, and he blinks in surprise.

“I’m the most important person in someone’s life? Someone other than my soulmate?” he asks, barely above a whisper, and she can’t help herself—she hugs him.

It’s not long after that before Eddie approaches her in a frenzied hurricane of hair, gangly limbs, and just a touch of panic.

“I think I need to show you my soulmark,” he tells her, and before she can get a word in edgewise, because he has just burst rather unceremoniously into her bedroom, Eddie starts to pace. “Because, I—well, it’s complicated, because I think I figured out who it is, and if I’m right, then it means things might be awkward between you and me, but I also don’t think they will…? I mean, he says he’s over—and you say you’re over—”

“Eddie,” Nancy says, “slow down.”

Eddie unbuckles his pants. Nancy whirls her head away.

“No, it’s not—! Look!” Eddie tells her, and Nancy puts her hands over her eyes, peeking through her fingers at him.

There’s a big square on his hip with two columns—the chart, she realizes as she puts her hands down—and the titles on each column read You Rule and You Suck with some tallies under the second column, but none under the first. In the same handwriting, Dingus is scrawled underneath it. Nancy’s seen that handwriting before. It’s the same handwriting from the notes she’d borrowed from Robin the other day because she’d skipped out on first period to chase a scoop.

“Your soulmate is Steve,” she realizes.

Eddie lets out a pained sort of noise. “And it’s—and you—! But you guys aren’t, so I figured it’d be fine, but—!” he cuts himself off with another pained half-scream, redoing his pants.

“Steve and Robin are the most important people in each other’s lives,” Nancy breathes.

Birdie.

“I know! And I’m not—I don’t want to disrespect that, I’m just—Nancy, I’m freaking out!” Eddie says through clenched teeth.

“Steve is the most important person in Robin’s life,” Nancy whimpers.

Birdie. Bird on a branch. Steve’s handwriting.

Robin. A robin on a branch.

Birdie.

“Okay, I feel like our crises are branching a little here,” Eddie says, hands steepled over his mouth, and Nancy whips her shirt off. Eddie mimics her earlier actions, turning on his heel in the other direction immediately. “Woah, Wheeler, I do not need to see—”

“My soulmark—my soulmate—Eddie, look,” she tells him.

Eddie winces as he turns around, and Nancy jabs a finger pointedly at her ribs. “Birdie,” Eddie reads aloud. His eyes go wide. “Oh, holy shit.”

“Steve’s soulmark is the only one of ours that isn’t different handwriting,” she reminds him. “Are you…okay with not being the most important—”

“Wheeler, I’m not stupid enough to hope to come close to Robin,” Eddie tells her. “Are…you okay with it? I mean, it’s different for you, someone’s apparently more important to you, too.”

Nancy’s mind flashes back to that conversation in the kitchen after New Years. “I’m okay with it,” she says, because she is. “Is—do either of them—”

“Steve knows,” Eddie says. “He knows and he didn’t tell me—”

“That’s not because you’re you, it’s because he’s self-sabotaging,” Nancy says. “But Robin said she thought she might know—”

“None of that from you, either,” Eddie snaps. “This isn’t a goddamn pity party.”

Nancy balks. “Then what the hell is it?”

Eddie waves his hands out manically. “I don’t know!”

Nancy throws her shirt back on, flops back against her bed. “Shit,” she grits out, “we should tell them. We have to.”

The mattress dips beside her. “Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “We do.”

“Does soulmark handwriting ever change?” Nancy wonders. “Not that I’m—like you said, I’d never hope for it, I’m just curious.”

“It’s ridiculously rare, but my uncle’s soulmate’s did,” Eddie whispers. “It changed from his soulmate’s to mine the day I was sent to live with him.”

Nancy can’t help but smile at that. It’s sweet. “If that’s the case, I think Mike’s future soulmate might have to cycle through, like, five different handwritings depending on who’s pissed him off the least that day,” she jokes, and Eddie laughs.

Silence washes over them. It’s comfortable, even if it’s unlike Eddie to be so silent.

He threads his fingers through hers. “Fuck it. Maybe we’ll eventually be each other’s most important people,” Eddie muses. “Y’know, since our soulmates are attached at the hip, we’ll probably end up like that, too.”

Nancy thinks she wouldn’t mind that all too much.

She ends up taking a page out of Steve’s book, surprisingly enough, and making her way to Robin’s second-story bedroom window that very same night. When she taps on the glass, Robin falls out of her chair and ends up scrambling over on all fours to open the window up. It’s so unbelievably charming. Robin helps her in, and the feel of her skin against Nancy’s makes her shudder, so thrilling that Nancy’s grin probably makes her seem like a crazy person.

“Jesus Christ, Nance, what are you doing here?” Robin hisses. “You probably could have come in the front door, I don’t think my parents really care—”

“I needed to talk to you. Didn’t have time for pleasantries,” Nancy says, breathless. “You’re—I need to tell you something. Something important.”

Robin goes a little pale. “Oh, shit, is this, like, a Code Red situation? Are we—did it come back?” she whispers, and Nancy shakes her head.

“No, it’s good, I—at least, I hope you think it’s good,” Nancy says, and Robin quirks a confused smile at her. Nancy pulls the side of her shirt up carefully. “I…have reason to think this nickname belongs to you.”

Robin’s hand is trembling as she reaches out to brush her fingers against the lettering, tracing the shape of the bird on the branch. The robin on the branch. Warmth spreads from the spot on the mark Robin had touched. “I—it’s you? I get to have you as my soulmate?” Robin asks, and she makes it sound like a profound honor, like it’s too good to be true, like Nancy is worth that much love.

“If you’ll have me,” Nancy whispers. “I’m stubborn and judgemental and I’ve hurt people, I’m too single-minded sometimes and it makes me withdraw into myself. I’m not good at loving other people and I make bad decisions and—”

“You’re everything,” Robin tells her.

It’s too much.

“I’ve been self-destructing about my soulmate since I got my mark,” Nancy tells her. “I thought—I dated Steve, knowing it was his handwriting, a-and then I dated Jonathan, knowing it couldn’t be him, and I’m so glad it wasn’t either of them, because you’re—Robin, you’re smart and you’re driven and you’re so, so kind to me. You’re beautiful.”

Robin’s breath hitches. “Nancy—”

“I don’t want to self-destruct with you,” Nancy says. “And I won’t. I don’t think you’d let me.”

“I wouldn’t,” Robin agrees. “I like you too much for that.”

“Let me see yours?” Nancy asks, and Robin nods, face flushed as she rolls up her pyjama pant leg to reveal her upper thigh.

There’s a spiral of memo pad pages surrounding a gorgeous fountain pen, and Nance is scrawled down the side of Robin’s thigh in Mike’s handwriting. Nancy traces the lines of the pages with her fingers, slides her palm over the pen. It’s beautiful. Intricate. As detailed as her own, and that makes something warm blossom in Nancy’s chest.

To her surprise, Robin’s mark fills with color, and the two of them watch in awe as ink splotches start to appear on the pages. Robin gasps. “Nancy, the bird—”

Nancy looks down, at where she’s still keeping her shirt raised, and sure enough, it’s the colors of an actual robin. “Holy shit,” Nancy breathes, more excited than she thinks she’s ever been in her entire life. Her eyes lock with Robin’s. “Can I…can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Robin says, voice hoarse, and Nancy surges forward, letting go of her shirt so she can keep one hand on Robin’s thigh, on Robin’s soulmark, while cupping her face with the other.

Their lips meet, and it’s wonderful. Nancy hums contentedly as Robin’s mouth moves against hers, slow and gentle. Her hands flit up to link around the back of Nancy’s neck, and her cheek grows warmer under Nancy’s touch. Robin’s clearly not a very experienced kisser, but Nancy doesn’t mind at all, perfectly content to nip at Robin’s bottom lip and draw pretty little noises from her throat. Robin pulls back after a moment to catch her breath, and Nancy smiles at her.

“I’m glad it’s you,” she murmurs.

Robin beams at her. “I’m glad it’s you, too.”

And just like that, Nancy doesn’t think her soulmark is very ordinary at all anymore.

[morganski-19]

My Friend's AU fic

Just some quick info about the au and how it works.

Takes place in New York, like the friends show does. There is also a coffee shop/bar that they all hang out in.

Nancy is a journalist and lives in her grandmother's rent controlled apartment. She knew Eddie in highschool, met the rest while in college. She and Steve dated freshman year of college but then broke up, and then she dated Jonathan for a little bit as well. But it's all cool with no weird love triangles (because I hate those) She is also bisexual.

Eddie is a freelance artist and a tattoo artist. He moved to New York to live with his now ex, and ended up reconnecting with Nancy and now they live together. He has been out as gay since highschool.

Steve lives across the hall from Nancy with Robin. He is a first grade teacher at the local school. He is also notorious for his many hookups (because he's the Joey character) and bisexual.

Robin met Steve in college and has been joined at the hip since. She is a translator at a law firm and takes up some side work tutoring people in the languages she speaks. She has also been out as a lesbian since highschool.

Jonathan and Argyle were randomized roommates in college, and just never stopped being roommates. They live in the building across the street, but end up spending most of their time in Nancy's apartment. He is a freelance photographer that has a pretty decent following and does a lot of events.

Argyle works at a weed dispensary and part time at the local pizza place. He doesn't label his sexuality because he doesn't really like labels.

The fic itself it told like a sitcom would be shown, so not a lot of inner thoughts. Just pure schinanegans. There will also be a tag list, so let me know if you want to be added/taken off as always.

You can also throw a prompt that you think would be funny in my asks and if it inspires me, I'll write it.

There is no order to this, and all of the parts can be found under the following hastag, but otherwise will not be linked to anything. #morgan's friends au

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

The porch light has come on, pooling on the cement along with the light shining through the sliding glass door. The chairs have inched closer and closer to the house in the absence of the sun, and the pool has long-since emptied of people.

Billy leans back on one of his hands, sitting sideways in a lounge chair with his legs spread out, the warm bottom of a bottle of beer resting against his bare thigh.

There’s still heat in his skin from earlier that afternoon. Sweat-slick and sticky from sunscreen that will take two shower’s-worth of scrubbing to fully remove. No tan lines whatsoever. Gentle bite marks and bruises left in tender areas that will surely ache to touch tomorrow.

For now, he’s looking forward to stepping under a stream of water in the master bathroom upstairs.

The water always stays hot longer at the Harrington castle.

He decided a few hours ago that once he’s finished his last beer, he’ll leave.

He’ll leave and he won’t come back.

Naturally, he’s been sipping at it for what feels like hours now. Swirling the bottle to check how much time he has left, letting dread pool hot and heavy in the pit of his belly at the thought of putting the neck to his lips for the last time.

The conversation goes on around him as usual.

Eddie talks about his latest gig. Jonathan and Tommy both bring up their girlfriends respectively. Jason laments about classes, Argyle suggests that he take a semester or two off, and Steve offers to get another round of drinks.

He pats a hand against Billy’s knee when he doesn’t respond, and the blond takes a moment to actually look up at where he stands over the lounger.

Everyone is looking at him. Which means that Steve must have tried a few times to get his attention.

Eddie lolls his head against Billy’s naked thigh from where he’s sat on the floor, fixing him with big, brown, bloodshot eyes.

“Y’okay, big red?” he hums. His hair is cold and damp where it splays over Billy’s steaming skin. He eyes a mark left near Billy’s hip, red and deeply indented by a set of teeth, and smiles. “Lost your buzz?”

Billy shakes his head. Swirls the bottle in his hand and chews his lip.

He’s getting choked up. He can feel the lump building in his throat, matching the subtle sting in his eyes and the thrumming in his head.

This is exactly why he needs to leave.

“I don’t—“ he says, and his voice comes out with a shake. It has any remaining smiles vanishing from the sea of people around him. He clears his throat before he speaks again. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

For a while now, these little hangouts were just what he needed. To come and be held by doting hands, kissed by loving mouths, and cherished like he’s something special. Brought up to the edge over and over until his eyes run out of tears, and afterwards feel the warm press of other aching bodies against his own to help ground him. Bring him back.

He must not be alone in feeling this way, because when he lifts his gaze from the wet floor, he’s met with various looks of confusion and sadness.

More sadness than he was expecting.

Steve crouches beside the lounger and sets a careful hand on his bicep, thumb smoothing comfortingly back and forth.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” he coos. “Did something happen? Are you alright?”

A shaky breath escapes Billy, and suddenly all of the guys go rigid. Eddie shoots upright, sitting straight and looking up with his brows furrowed, and splays a hand over Billy’s inner thigh just above his knee.

“Don’t cry, sweetness, just breathe.”

Billy looks away and closes his eyes when the tears finally spill over.

“Was I too rough?” Jason asks.

“Did something make you uncomfortable?” Tommy adds.

Quickly, they’re speaking over each other, not one question intelligible from the next, and Steve shushes them sternly.

When he turns his attention back to Billy, his expression is soft and understanding.

“Talk to us, baby,” he pleads. “Take a second to breathe, alright? There’s no rush.”

The palms resting against his skin are comforting. He breathes softly, shakily, and sheds a few more tears before he relaxes enough to exhale a tension-filled sigh.

If his skin was hot before, it’s blistering now. He wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm and sniffles.

“I’m okay,” he says, and there’s a slight air of relief around him afterward. “I just… I can’t keep doing this, y’know? I keep saying it’ll be the last time, and then I keep fucking coming back.”

Billy stares down at the last sip of his beer. Thinks about slender hands combing over his torso, grabbing his hips. Tangling in his hair and pulling.

He thinks of kisses pressed to his neck and fingers tucking under the band of his swim shorts, slipping them off to be lost near the tree line. He thinks of the heated pool water and how cool it felt against his skin. How cool it felt in contrast to the hot mouths finding purchase anywhere they could.

“How come?” Eddie asks.

He looks almost hurt, and when Billy glances around, he has to look away again because the expression is on every damn face he sees.

So, he takes a deep breath, and tightens his fist around the neck of the bottle.

“It’s nothing anyone’s done,” he prefaces. “I’m just starting to want… more? Getting passed around like a bong at a smoke sesh used to do it for me, but it’s not anymore, and it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid—“

“I don’t feel like this,” Billy rasps. He swallows thickly as his eyes well up again. “I don’t like feeling like this. Needy and pathetic and like I can’t just have sex.”

He’s not looking, but he can feel the boys move closer. He can hear the movement, just barely audible over the pounding in his ears.

“You aren’t pathetic, Bill,” Steve reassures.

“It’s perfectly normal to want more than just sex,” Jonathan adds, much, much closer now. “You’re normal for wanting that.”

Billy shakes his head and exhales a shaky breath. Another hand smooths over his forearm, squeezing reassuringly. It helps even out his breath again.

“I’m not normal for wanting what I want.”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Steve asks.

After a beat, Billy cracks his eyes open. Huffs a laugh to himself at how crowded the space beside the lounger has become, and fixes the brunet with a look.

Steve, sharp as he is, immediately raises his brows in understanding.

“Oh, Billy,” he croons. “I’m sure we could—“

“Sure we could what? Half of you fucks have girlfriends, and it would never work out anyway. Seven is a crowd.” The realization seeps through each thick skull in a matter of seconds, it seems. Billy fights the urge to scoff. “See? It’s stupid.”

Out of all of them, Tommy is the only one to laugh. He snickers and leans his elbow onto Jason’s shoulder, which earns a confused and hurt look from Billy.

“Of course you’d want more boyfriends than you can count on one hand,” he sighs fondly. “Mister blue-eyed princess needs extra love and attention? Who could’ve guessed?”

What he says earns a few chuckles. Even Steve spreads a smile and squeezes Billy’s arm where his hand still rests.

“You do need a lot of constant spoiling,” Steve adds amusedly.

“So high maintenance that you’re crying and freaking us all out ‘cause you like us,” Jason chuckles.

The laughter proceeds and Billy pouts. Eddie picks himself up and sits beside him on the lounger, tucking a curl behind his ear and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I think it’s safe to say you have these boys wrapped around your little finger,” he hums. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I heard Hagan alone drop about a hundred L-words today. He doesn’t even say that shit to Carol.”

“I do too,” Tommy huffs.

“Yeah? When?”

“On… Valentine’s Day? Y’know, special occasions.”

He flushes red and looks away when Billy smiles at him, crossing his arms. Jason pats a hand on his back.

“Well, now I actually feel kinda stupid,” Billy huffs.

“So you’re a little blond and a little boy-crazy? We already knew that,” Argyle says.

There’s another wave of chuckles, and now Billy’s really smiling.

When he looks around, he doesn’t feel like everything is so out of reach anymore. Literally.

He exhales a relieved sigh, shifting in his seat and grimacing at the grimy feeling of his skin now that he’s had more time to dry off.

“Gonna run me a shower, Harrington?” he lilts.

Steve chuckles and stands up, holding his hand out.

“Promise there won’t be any more crying?”

The blond takes his hand and stands up as well, snorting when Steve sets his free hand on his waist and pulls them hip-to-hip.

“I promise.”

“Good.”

They share a kiss, parting not a moment later when Eddie pushes himself up and runs to the back door.

“I call first round of shower sex!” he yells.

Billy simply quirks an eyebrow, then tilts his head to the side in consideration. The other guys are all quickly scrambling inside. Jason’s hands fit around Eddie’s waist when they’re about halfway through the living room, and the brunet struggles momentarily until his back is pulled flush with Jason’s chest.

“We all know you don’t shower otherwise, Munson,” Jason teases.

He licks a stripe up the curve of Eddie’s neck, and it takes less than a second for them to topple over onto the couch, hands roaming all over each other as Eddie fails to sass back.

Argyle and Jonathan make off towards the guest bathroom, stripping down in the hall along their way, and Tommy is left standing in the doorway, leaning his arm against the frame.

“I’ll go get it warmed up,” he says with a wink.

Then it’s just Billy and Steve outside.

It’s quiet now, save for the chirping of crickets. They’re still pressed together. Steve rubs his thumbs against Billy’s hips mindlessly. Leans forward and just barely brushes his lips against his ear.

“We’ll figure it out,” he coos. “But for now, let’s go get clean, yeah?”

Billy glances down at his free hand briefly. Swirls the contents of the bottle before setting it on the side table beside him and breathing in deep. Like the oppressive weight is gone from his body.

He feels like he’s damn near floating when he meets Steve’s gaze again. They both spread goofy grins not a moment later.

“Yeah, Stevie. Let’s go.”

[judasofsuburbia]

for good || argyle week day one: missing scenes

rating: teen and up || pairing: argyle and jonathan || word count: 1113

day one of @argyledaily 's argyle week: missing scenes

"Has anyone seen Argyle?" Jonathan asks. They're still coming down from El going into Vecna's mindfuck palace via the Surfer Boy pizza dough freezer. Mike and Will are holding El on the floor and the general chaos has died down but everyone is still a little shaken. 

“He's in the van smoking I think,” Mike responds with the indifference that Jonathan has become accustomed to. Even amongst the draining atmosphere that was the last few hours of their lives, Mike can still find a way to be a little shit. 

Jonathan rolls his eyes and pushes open the front door of the Surfer Boy Pizza. Sure enough, the van doors are propped open. But Jonathan doesn't see any smoke.

Jonathan calls out for Argyle and hears a muttered, “In here.”

When Jonathan appears on the other side of the open van doors, Argyle is curled into himself. His chin is resting on his knees, his long hair making a curtain of sorts around his face, and his eyes are streaming with tears. He looks up at Jonathan, absolutely defeated, and Jonathan’s breath catches in his throat. 

“Dude,” Jonathan breathes, coming to sit next to Argyle. His arms hover for a minute before deciding that yes, they should be put around Argyle at this moment, and he does just that.

Jonathan holds him for a few silent minutes, the only noise being Argyle’s sniffles. He’s never held Argyle like this, not seriously. Argyle will throw an arm around him sometimes, leading him to whatever shenanigans they have going on. It’s always playful and is dropped a minute later. This is much, much different.

Argyle’s knees drop down and Jonathan goes to move his arms off but then Argyle is tucking his head into Jonathan’s shoulder and oh, okay, comforting is still going. Argyle's had a few freak outs the last few days, rightfully so, but usually a blunt brought him down to a more mellow place, for better or for worse.

That's not what he needs right now though.

Jonathan starts to rub his arms up and down Argyle’s and Argyle’s breathing starts to become steady again so it must be helping. 

“She does that a lot?” Argyle croaks.

“El?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh,” Jonathan inhales to buy himself some time. “Not since we moved, no.”

Argyle hums and whispers, “Scary.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan agrees softly.

“Is that why you moved?” Argyle asks.

Jonathan could spin this. Openly lie like the NDAs would tell him to do. But god damn it, the last few days have already rendered those documents useless. Argyle’s seen it. Not all of it, but a damn lot of it. Too much of it. Literally just helped them get El in between worlds like that. 

Jonathan’s never been a great liar anyway.

“Yeah,” Jonathan answers. “Hawkins, where we were, kinda the cesspool of all those bad things. We thought we’d get away…maybe it would die down. Go away for good.”

Argyle moves his head so it’s off of Jonathan’s shoulder and looks at him seriously. Jonathan once again feels the need to let go but Argyle’s hand stops him. His strong fingers wrap around Jonathan's.

“Why is it her? She’s so…small. Young. Will, too. Fuck, they all are. Hell, we are! They’re so small, why are they fighting this? Why are you fighting this…thing?” Argyle bursts out in a frantic ramble, his voice desperate and strained. Jonathan flinches and Argyle’s shoulders drop. “Sorry, just…that’s fucked.”

“You’re right,” Jonathan says with a shaky exhale. “It is totally fucked. No one in Hawkins would listen to us. El, she…she came from the people responsible. Or at least, the people that knew about it and interacted with it. They…trained her for it. Knew she was special and exploited her. She escaped then Will got caught up in it a few years back. The…thing. It kidnapped him. El saved him. And kept saving everything over and over again‒”

Argyle’s eyes look so, so sorrowful that Jonathan stops talking. He’s never had to explain this to anyone else before. All the people in his life know about this. Witnessed it firsthand. He knows that it’s fucked but he’s never had to drag someone else into it. 

But Argyle's witnessed a lot in the last few days. Way more than he ever should have had to. Jonathan opens his mouth to apologize but then--

“You’re so brave, my man,” Argyle breathes.

Jonathan freezes. His body feels too warm, his skin itching to get off of his bones. The moment feels too intimate. Yet, he fights his instincts to pull away. Something in his brain tells him this moment is too important.

“I‒” Jonathan’s tongue feels too big for his mouth, “I mean‒you. You-- you're brave. You like... helped us. You could’ve kicked us to the curb days ago.”

“Nah man,” Argyle interrupts, a little stern. “You needed help. I’ll always help you.”

Jonathan sighs with a soft smile and Argyle’s fingernails trace circles into his palm. It sends a shiver up Jonathan’s arm. He doesn’t fight it.

“Is that where your mom is? Down where El‒”

“No,” Jonathan cuts him off to help shake the mental image that started to form. “I don’t where she is. I don’t think it’s Alaska,” Jonathan’s laugh is pitiful. 

“Why would she just leave?” Argyle asks.

Jonathan shrugs and his eyes sting with tears. “I don’t…I don’t know. I wish she hadn’t.”

Argyle wraps his arms around Jonathan’s torso and pulls him in for a hug. Jonathan starts to cry into his hair. Argyle cries again too. Jonathan's never cried in front of him before.

It feels so good to be held while they’re crying. Neither of them can remember the last time someone just held them like this. Let them release everything that was bottled up inside into reckless, ugly sobs. 

It’s the first time they’ve ever truly hugged. This also feels good. 

They must cry into each other for at least five minutes, maybe ten. It’s Argyle who pulls away first and wipes his tears and snot with the sleeve of his shirt. Jonathan lets out a little laugh and pulls his collar up to do the same. They’re still holding each other. Argyle is rubbing circles into the middle of his back.

“How do we end this thing?” Argyle whispers. “For good.”

Jonathan turns his head to look back at the front of the van. He looks back at Argyle, his best friend, really his only friend, whose look of determination sets something alight in him. 

“Are you down for a longer road trip?”

Argyle nods with his lips pursed, the vulnerability of the last few moments slipping into a newly found, almost easy sense of purpose. A look that says, "For you, dude? Anything."

This makes Jonathan smile. 

“Let’s get that motherfucker," Argyle declares.

[surferboypizza-argylespeaking]

Thinking about Argyle being distracted by the way the sunlight hits the lighter streaks in Jonathan’s hair so he wipes out on his board. Which he hardly ever does anymore so he is surprised by the familiar sting of his elbow scraping against the pavement. Before he can get up and dust off Jonathan is on him looking him over and asking if he is alright. When Argyle looks up Jonathan has skewed the sun from view. Light filtering around his hair like a halo. Argyles hip and elbow throb with pain but he still smiles. He mumbles out a yeah man. A very very small part of him annoyed that he wiped out for the first time in years. A much larger part thrilled to see those tired eyes looking at him with concern and a quiet fondness.

[fastcardotmp3]

🌻august bookshelf🌻

july recs | recs tag

I really enjoyed putting together a little fic rec list at the end of last month and decided to do it again!

🌻driving in your car by @kkpwnall - when I say the ultimate pining Steddie fic I MEAN IT. the use of the car as this sort of central, grounding force within Steve's world and the way the testing of his tether to Hawkins and the people in it plays out here is stunning, not to mention the HANDS and the ronance going on stage left and the complete and utter tenderness lying just beneath the surface. perfection I am swallowing it whole

🌻clueless by @gothbat99 - such a lovely short & sweet slice of life in the summer after they win the war, it feels SO important in its simplicity that Nancy and Robin are getting to behave like young people, all free and hopeful and discovering how to want/ be wanted. made my heart so big and warm in only 1k words like THAT !!! is so impressive, so worth your time, will make your day better guaranteed

🌻Faces Freedom with a Little Fear by @fragilecapric0rnn - literally Steve family-centric character study of all time, come swoon over big sister JJ Harrington and watch as her presence in his life creates a fullness and richness of growth and self-realization LIKE. I could bask in this world for the rest of forever and never get tired of its sincerity and depth and siblingisms, what a heart-squeezing delight from start to finish

🌻haunted hawkins by @hellsfireclub - starts with the brilliant premise of "what if it's not just Hawkins?" and RUNS with it, giving not just beautiful ruminations on both Nancy and Robin as they start a journey towards figuring out just how far the paranormal spreads and also a journey towards mutual self discovery and (: lesbianism (: READ THIS FIC.

🌻then I see you, you're walking 'cross the campus by stellarpoint (@heybluechild) - a lovely little peek at Steve and Nancy's friendship coming back together after they've come into their own a little bit and Nancy being so, so brave in coming out to him. truly this made my heart so big and full and warm i am carrying them gently in the palms of my hands

🌻this must be the place by @judasofsuburbia - JARGYLE CAMPING. the tenderness of this, the peace offered to Jonathan when he hasn't ever really known such a thing, the way they just sort of slot together and find and choose and become each other?? it's got me all soft in the heart and THAT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. illegal actually. I'm weak in the knees :((

🌻Young, Scrappy, & Hungry by @fragilecapric0rnn - politics ronance rivals to lovers WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?? perfect dynamics already and I can't wait to see where these girls go. the characterizations of them is so REAL despite the very different world of Washington they've been dropped into and my lesbian, TWW-loving ass is feeling soooo normal about them SO normal don't worry about it

🌻The Warmth Pulls by TheDeathsWish - I'm not fully caught up on this one yet, but it is genuinely one of the most unique AUs I've come across so I have to mention it here. It's still 1986 and it's still Hawkins, but the sci-fi overlay is switched out for more purely fantasy elements, including some very cool and beautifully revealed eccentricities and abilities of the characters. Steddie but also so hugely dependent on the ensemble of it all, which you know I eat up, I'm excited to keep working my way through this one!

P.S. if you read and enjoy any of these, please remember to tip your writers in kudos and comments!💛

[thefreakandthehair]

Hi friends! It's that time again! I'm so excited to host this Summer Spicy Six Fanworks Challenge! The past couple seasonal challenges have been such a blast, and I can't wait to see what people come up with this time around!

Here are the rules: 

Must include at least one member of the Spicy Six. Don't feel pressured to include everyone, of course. You can focus on just Steddie, just Ronance, just Jargyle, really any combo OR no pairings at all. Chrissy is also included! (I know that makes seven– I just don't want to change the title, honestly.)

There are two links below, one for dialogue prompts and one for more general prompts. Please either DM me at thefreakandthehair or comment which prompt you’d like! 

More than one person can claim the same prompt if it’s for a different pairing/character/grouping or if it’s for a different medium (i.e.: a prompt can be claimed for a fic by one person, and the same prompt can be claimed for a fanart by someone else).

Claiming more than one prompt is allowed, so long as they are for different fics/artworks and you’re confident that you’ll finish more than one!

No word count minimum or maximum for fics. 

Posting will run throughout the entire month of August, so anytime between August 1, 2023 - August 31, 2023. Additional posting details here!

When you post, please use the tag LexsSummerFanworksChallenge and tag me so I can see and reblog it!

Please feel free to reblog to spread and signal boost.

Dialogue Prompts Here

Inspiration Prompts Here

tagging those who've been along for the ride before or who expressed interest/writing/art pals! @starrystevie @stargyles @hexiewrites @stevecarrington @stevethehairington @steveshairychest @withacapitalp @stevesbipanic @fruityfour @fruityfourgalore @sharpbutsoft @judasofsuburbia @sparklyslug @toburnup @strawberryspence @fragilecapric0rnn @sparkle-fiend @unclewaynemunson @undreaming-fanfiction @riality-check @legitcookie @sidekick-hero @cheatghost @kkpwnall @aidaronan @flowercrowngods @gothbat99 @pizzaqueen @hammity-hammer @bmodiwrites @patheticgirlsteve @misspanicdead @capriciouslyterminal @aringofsalt @barbienheimer @steddieasitgoes @horsegirleddiemunson @maxinemaxmayfield @daysarestranger @henderdads @eddieunbanished @nostalgicbones @delta-piscium @scoops-stevie @steves-strapcollection @scarcrossdlvrs @inairbinad @patchworkgargoyle @ahhrenata @dazedandinked

[kittyphoenix12-xx]

jargyle be more chill au on ao3