#the comfort of strangers
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i hate the colored pencil one with my life but WHAT ever. so nice you see him thrice
[ID: my hand holding three miniature drawings of Christopher Walken, each around an inch in size. one is him in The Dead Zone, one in The Comfort of Strangers, and one in King of New York.]
#marker#colored pencil#christopher walken#the dead zone#the comfort of strangers#king of new york#mini
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Six movie posters with art by Bob Peak.
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The Comfort of Strangers (1990) | dir. Paul Scharer
#the comfort of strangers#paul schrader#rupert everett#natasha richardson#films#movies#cinematography#scenery#screencaps
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Christopher Walken, Natasha Richardson & Rupert Everett arrive at the 43rd Cannes Film Festival for the premiere of The Comfort of Strangers on May 21st 1990.
#christopher walken#natasha richardson#rupert everett#the comfort of strangers#cannes film festival#cannes#1990#style#fashion#1990s
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#the comfort of strangers#paul schrader#helen mirren#christopher walken#rupert everett#natasha richardson#ian mcewan#harold pinter
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Wir sollten jetzt, wo wir uns dieses Venedig so richtig vorstellen können, auch ein paar Venedig-Filme anschauen, dachten wir und machten uns gleich daran, mit The Comfort of Strangers, einer wüsten und etwas rätselhaften Geschichte von Ewan McEwan und Drehbuch von Harold Pinter. Man könnte ahnen, daß es trotz der zauberhaften Kulisse nicht nett wird. Natasha Richardson und Rupert Everett machen dort als hübsches, aber unsicheres Paar Beziehungssortierungs-Urlaub, Rupert sieht aber einfach zu gut aus und erregt die Aufmerksamkeit der zweifelhaften und anstrengenden Eheleute Walken und Mirren. Bizarre Filme über sinnliche Obsessionen mit Helen Mirren kann man gar nicht genug anschauen.
#The Comfort of Strangers#Christopher Walken#Rupert Everett#Natasha Richardson#Helen Mirren#Film gesehen#Paul Schrader#Harold Pinter#Ian McEwan
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THE COMFORT OF STRANGERS:
An English couple
Meet strange couple in Venice
Sexual torment
youtube
#the comfort of strangers#random richards#poem#haiku#poetry#haiku poem#poets on tumblr#haiku poetry#haiku form#poetic#criterion collection#criterion channel#christopher walken#helen mirren#rupert everett#natasha richardson#paul schrader#ian mcewan#Harold Pinter#Youtube
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you can pry happy endings from my cold-dead hands. It can be the most heart stopping, gut wrenching fic that has every existed and I will read every drop of it if I get my happy ending. I have had enough painful endings in real life, give me happy in my fantasy world. It can be at the last second, it can be a single sentence, even a single word. Give me all the angst and hurt in the world for 500,000 words, but please give me the comfort I need in the ending. please and thank you.
#do I love angst? yes. but also need to be happy in my delulu world for five seconds#sometimes you need domestic fluff to soothe the burn#fan fiction#ao3#hurt/comfort#steddie#stranger things#lumax#byler#ronance#steve harrington#Eddie Munson#archive of our own#wattpad#robin buckley#steve x eddie#happy endings
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Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.
The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.
Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.
Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.
Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.
Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.
When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.
They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.
Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.
The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.
Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.
He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.
He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.
He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back
He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.
Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.
Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.
Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking for when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?
Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?
#From the perspective of someone who grew up poor#I've always found comfort in the knowledge#that I would never be expected to do something great#which means#that I get to project that onto the sillies#steddie#fanfiction#plot bunny#eddie munson#steve harrington#dreamer speaks#stranger things#One again I ask myself#is this anything?#insert shrug emoji#Edit: This ended up being something#thank you to everyone#who commented or wrote in the tags#for sharing your stories with me#it means a lot#that people are connecting with this one
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Wayne Munson living on the breadline. Wayne Munson who can't afford rent on his home AND a kid, so he moves to the trailer park and gives Eddie the bedroom. Wayne Munson picking up every shift he can to put food in his kid's belly and a roof over his kid's head. Wayne Munson who's back hurts from sleeping on the couch and doing manual labour for 12 hours a day. Wayne Munson who wouldn't change a thing, even when Eddie doesn't graduate, and then doesn't graduate again. Wayne Munson who became a very rich man after Eddie died. Wayne Munson who still sleeps on the couch in a run down trailer, while the bed lies cold and empty.
Wayne Munson who swore he would give the rest of his life to his kid the day he became his. Wayne Munson who didn't go back on that promise even after his kid died. Wayne Munson who has a bed ready and waiting when his kid comes back from the dead. Wayne Munson who readily accepts any and all changes his kid came back with. Wayne Munson who cries and holds his kid tighter than anything when he returns. Wayne Munson who quits his job on the spot to cook a warm meal for his kid and his new boyfriend when he hesitantly introduces them to each other.
Wayne Munson who lives a long and happy life, and finally passes away surrounded by family. Wayne Munson who gets the happily ever after and the ending he deserves.
#stranger things#eddie munson#wayne munson#hurt/comfort#character death#temporary character death#stranger things 4 spoilers#stranger things spoilers#background steddie#steddie#fanfiction
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Steddie Amnesia Fic: 1/3
-> Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3
cw: lots of head trauma/brain injury/recovery stuff.
Steve wakes up in the hospital with someone snoring loudly on his leg, mouth open, drool getting soaked up into the scratchy hospital blanket over him.
Steve just stares.
It’s… Freddie? No, that’s not right... Eddie! Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, known delinquent and drug dealer… resting his head on Steve’s lap.
What the hell…?
Steve reaches up with a wobbly, IV-ridden hand to clumsily pat along his head, but instead of meeting messy hair, he meets a thick wad of bandages. He flinches when he hits an especially tender spot.
It’s not much but it’s enough to wake Eddie Munson up with a jolt, and a random jumble of words that sounded something like, “the dice have spoken!”, but Steve can’t be sure. Not with the sharp ringing still going off inside his skull.
“Steve? Steve! Oh thank fuck, Jesus H. Christ, you scared the ever loving shit out of me.” Eddie stood and grabbed at one of Steve’s shoulders, shaking him enough to elicit another wince.
“Oh, damn, sorry. I’m like a fucking bull in a china shop here, man. There’s way too much expensive, breakable shit here. I’m not used to it. I accidentally ripped your IV out the other day... Fuck. The nurses hate my guts.” Eddie chuckles, eyes wide and solely on Steve, talking like they were old friends or something.
But that can’t be right. Steve doesn’t remember saying more than two words to Eddie Munson during the entire time he knew he even existed, and even then it was just to discuss weed prices.
“For real though, talk to me Harrington, how you feelin’, hm? Loopy? Gonna yak again? Apparently they got you on the good stuff,” Eddie flicks a liquid filled bag hanging above Steve and shakes his head, “but they keep cutting you back. Dicks.”
Steve’s eyes try and follow Eddie’s erratic movements but his eyes ache the more he moves them. He blinks against the harsh fluorescents and tries to open his mouth. And thank God, Eddie Munson seems to take this as a sign and shut up.
“What happened?” Steve finally croaks.
One of Eddie’s brows jumps. “You don’t remember?”
Steve gives his head a small shake. Did Eddie hit him with his car or something? Is that why he’s sleeping at his bedside and talking to him like they’re buddies?
“You fell, Stevie.” Eddie makes a whistling noise and mimicks something falling with his hands, then makes a crashing sound when his hand lands on Steve’s bandaged head. “Like a coconut out of a tree. Landed right on that big ol’ melon of yours. There was blood everywhere. It scared the shit out of me and the kids. Especially when you wouldn’t wake up.”
Steve’s throat feels like sandpaper, but he manages to swallow, his throat clicking as he did, and gets out, “The kids?”
Eddie seems to notice, even before Steve can ask, and reaches for a water bottle with a straw already in it, and half chewed. Eddie’s own, no doubt. Against his better judgment, Steve accepts it when Eddie offers it to him. He was just so goddamn thirsty.
“Don’t worry, they’re all fine. They were just shaken up. I’ll radio the little gremlins and give ‘em the good news in a sec.” Eddie’s smile falters a little, seeming lost for words. Like he wants to say something, but can’t quite get it out.
Steve finishes swallowing his few, meager gulps of water before he asks, “What is it?”
“Don’t freak out—“ Eddie begins.
And, okay, that’s exactly the thing you tell someone before they freak the fuck out. Steve’s stomach is subject to a growing, sluggish panic. “What? Dude, tell me—“
“It’s your hair.” Eddie seems genuinely pained at having to deliver this crushing of a blow to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.
Steve can hear the beeping from the monitors he’s hooked up to begin to pick up speed as his heart begins racing. “My hair?”
“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’ll grow back! They just had to take a little bit off where the stitches went, you can hardest notice it—well, that’s a fucking lie, you could spot that landing strip from space—but I think if you part it to the other side it won’t look so… y’know.”
“No, dude, I don’t know.” Steve says, eyes wide, brows pinched.
“Like a drunk toddler took a pair of rusty kitchen shears to your mop.” Eddie says, huffing out a nervous sort of laugh.
Steve groans, half due to the bastardization that’s happened to his favorite feature, and half due to the migraine that’s looming on his horizon.
“You’re still pretty, Stevie, don’t worry.” Eddie grins, eyebrows raised, like he’s trying to be cute or something.
That weirdest part is, it’s kind of working.
Steve must have hit his head really, really hard.
The doctors eventually come in and perform all sorts of tests, and he tries his best to comply with them and jump through whatever hoops they make him jump through. He just wants to get the hell out of this hospital bed.
Unfortunately for him, Steve hadn’t exactly aced any of the tests.
In fact, he had failed most of them pretty fucking dismally. He couldn’t remember the date, who the president was, where he lived, couldn’t say the alphabet backwards… although, who the fuck can do that? He stands by that failing grade.
A couple of CAT scans later and it’s clear that Steve’s brain got smacked around a little more than they had originally thought.
Among a pile of other stuff, the thing that sticks out the most to Steve is his diagnosis of something called short term amnesia. They explain it like the past 2 to 3 years has just been wiped from his brain. The last clear thing he really remembers is getting the shit beat out of him by Billy, and then it all sort of gets jumbled. Fragmented. The doctors explain that this is pretty typical for head trauma patients.
He’s a head trauma patient, now.
It’s normal for memories of trauma to link, creating spiderwebs throughout your brain.
Which, that’s great. So when he gets beat up again, there’s always a chance his brain will try and erase his easy, happy years and revert back to a trauma default. Really helpful brain, thank you.
And the thing that sucks the most is that his years after the Billy beat down sound pretty great. Traumatizing, sure, but great. Once the Upside Down shit was locked up, with every scary nightmare fuel monster inside of it, life in Hawkins didn’t sound all that terrible.
He lived with Robin, who’s his best friend, (his ‘platonic soulmate’ even, as she explains it), he’s working a retail job, (also with Robin), and coaches the high school basketball team during the evenings. He’d even been talking with Hopper about joining the force.
Well, he was. Now he’s more or less useless, working full time at re-learning his life, along with a couple of fine motor skills that got glitchy after the fall.
And then there’s Eddie.
Eddie, who’s apparently also his best friend, only their soulmate link isn’t platonic at all.
The strange and weirdly exciting reality was that Steve Harrington had woken up from his 3-day medically induced coma with not only a full fledged relationship, but a boyfriend.
It’s a lot to digest, and part of him still doesn’t even know how to process it, but hearing the stories being told around him, seeing how Eddie is practically living in his and Robin’s two-bedroom apartment, and just… the way Eddie looks at him?
It’s with love—Steve can see it. Feel it. Eddie’s practically vibrating with it.
What’s even crazier is that when Steve looks at Eddie, he feels the exact same way.
It’s like looking at the stars. Steve’s heart skips a beat when those dark eyes of hit him, and Steve wants nothing more than to make Eddie smile—no, better than that, to make him laugh, just so he can watch Eddie’s adam’s apple bob up and down and hear that manic, unhinged cackle. It’s downright delightful. Steve loves being in relationships like this, where it’s all consuming.
Steve may not have the memories of falling in love with Eddie, but he has all the feelings.
No one talks about it with Steve, of course. Maybe they think it’s going to be too heavy for him to process that he’s into dudes now, but Steve isn’t a big dumb baby. Sure, he’s got a pretty severe brain injury, and yeah, alright, it takes him a minute to remember people’s names sometimes, and he has a harder time controlling his emotions, but he isn’t a complete invalid. Only a little bit of one. He’s working on it, dammit.
And Eddie is so painfully, frustratingly patient with him. He never pushes. He’s clearly letting Steve retrieve his memories before he makes a move, because despite his whole outward appearance, Eddie Munson is a goddamn gentleman. He never so much as reaches for Steve’s hands, but Steve can tell by the way their pinkies graze when they watch movies late at night that he wants to.
Steve can tell by the way Eddie teases him, the way he’s there with him through his recovery, that he doesn’t ever make Steve feel stupid when he asks the same questions over and over again, when he cries at the drop of a hat or when he gets sort of confused about the lay out of his apartment—he doesn’t care about that of that.
Because he’s in love with Steve. It’s so painfully romantic, it brings a painful lump to Steve’s throat every time he thinks too much about it.
The two of them are driving to one of Steve’s therapy sessions, Eddie in the driver's seat, Steve in the passengers, listening to a low racket of some kind of heavy metal music. Eddie always keeps the volume low now, for Steve.
He’s just been so intensely good about everything that Steve needs to try and do something good for Eddie in return. He needs Eddie to know that there’s a light at the end of this tunnel that they’re both currently lost in.
“I’m sorry about this, y’know.” Steve says when they finally pull up the building that has ‘Brain Injury Recover Center’ written on the front. So all the boys and girls with scrambled eggs for brains know where to converge.
“Don’t worry about it, man. I work the evening shifts, remember? My days are free.” Eddie explains, and Steve wonders if he’s had to be told this bit of information a couple of times now. Sometimes it takes a few times before something sticks to his brain now. His short term memory is still majorly flighty. But no, Steve remembers that Eddie bartends at a local bowling alley most evenings. He’s gone a few times. Not to bowl, of course—too much hand eye coordination involved—but just to hang out with Eddie. He’s pretty decent at Ms. Pac-Man though.
Steve shakes his head. He knows his mind must have wandered because there’s been a lull where no one’s spoken. Eddie never seems to care about that though. “I don’t mean about the drive. I was talking about… y’know.”
“Wha’dy’mean?” Eddie mumbles as he backs into his parking space, hand on the back of Steve’s headrest.
Steve sighs and decides to just come out and say it: “I mean having your boyfriend forget everything about you and your relationship. I just… that must be really tough.”
Everything in Eddie Munson comes to a jarring halt, hand frozen over where he’s turned to ignition off.
It’s sort of unnerving—Eddie is always moving, fidgeting. Damn near bouncing off the walls. But now it’s like someone hit the poor guy with a freeze ray gun.
Steve chuckles softly as he reaches out and touches Eddie’s arm, giving him a playful jostle, to loosen him up a little, “it’s okay, Eddie. I know. You don’t have to keep going easy on me. I’m gay! Or, bi-sexual. Whatever.” Steve shrugs, “see? Not falling apart. I can handle being in love with another dude. You don’t need to keep babying me.”
The side of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a downturned smile that he seems to be trying to hide.
“I know, I know. Not just any dude.” Steve rolls his eyes, a smile still firmly on his face. He takes Eddie’s hand from the steering wheel, and Eddie seems to watch it go in a detached sort of awe. Steve wonders if Eddie’s proud of him for being so cool with it all. “In love with you.”
“Steve, I don’t think—
“Wait, just let me finish.” Steve asks, and Eddie blinks and works on closing his mouth. Knows it’s important to let Steve get his thoughts out quickly, lest they be lost to the giant black hole inside of his beat-up brain now. “I know that I don’t remember any of the important stuff with us. Our first date, or our first kiss or, y’know, any of our other first firsts. So maybe it feels like you’re cheating on the old Steve with me? But… Eddie, I know it’s crazy but even though my brain forgot all of the specifics; my heart didn’t. I look at you, and it’s all there. I’m still so into you, dude. I can feel it, even though I don’t remember how I got here. I’m in l—“
“Steve! Stevestevesteve wait, holy shit—!” Eddie’s eyes snap up from his intense stare at the place where their hands are linked. “Steve—”
“Yeah?” Steve prompts when Eddie doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. He runs his thumb gently over Eddie’s knuckles. It feels so nice to finally be able to hold his hand again. They fit together so well, and Steve wonders briefly if it’s some kind of muscle memory.
Eddie opens his mouth a few more times before he remembers how to make the words come out.
“Steve. Buddy. We’re… we’re not dating.”
Steve’s face falls, and he can feel a lump form in his throat, but he keeps a firm hold of Eddie’s warm hand in his own. “Yeah, I know, I know. We haven’t had any time to be a couple. And it’s probably been torture for you, man. You’re so busy taking care of me and making sure I don’t freak out over everything that you’ve clearly been neglecting your own hierarchy of needs.”
Eddie raises a brow.
Steve chuckles, “Shut up. It’s a therapy term.”
Eddie laughs in his throat. “Steve, you gotta slow down and listen to me.”
He turns his shoulders so that he’s fully facing Steve while he reaches his free hand over and tugs at one of his earlobes. “Got your hearing ears on?”
Steve rolls his eyes, but he nods just the same.
“We… we weren’t dating before your accident,” Eddie speaks slowly, his voice warm, gentle. “Hell, I didn’t even know you were, y’know, into dudes like that. Much less me.”
Something throbs dully behind Steve’s eyes. It’s the start of a migraine—the one that makes it hard to process much of anything. Steve squints, trying to make sense of what Eddie’s saying. “…you’re not my boyfriend?”
Eddie shakes his head very, very slowly. “No.”
Steve snatches his hand back like he’s only just now noticed how burning hot Eddie’s hand is.
He settles back in his seat, staring out the front window. The sounds from the outside world are muffled, and everything feels far away and sort of… Made up. Just like everything he’d imagined was going on between him and Eddie. Not real.
He feels painfully detached from reality. Unmoored. Maybe this was the disassociation thing the doctor mentioned might happen…
“Are you sure?” Steve asks, risking another glance over to Eddie, who hasn’t taken his eyes off him for a second.
“Pretty fuckin’ sure.” Eddie snorts.
“Oh, God. This is… I’m—sorry. I’m so stupid. Fuck, I gotta—“ Steve suddenly attacks the door handle with a clumsy fury that has his hand fumbling with the handle for way too long. Fucking busted up, bruised as fuck fucking brain-!
“Steve, it’s okay, dude,” Eddie says from behind Steve, but that’s easy for him to say; he didn’t just humiliate himself in front of his not-boyfriend, definitely-crush, possibly ex-friend—“Steve, wait!”
Steve flees the van on unsteady feet, not daring to look back.
#part 2???👀#update: okay yes definitely a part 2#please let let know if you want to be added to the tag list for part 2!◡̈#now part 3#this has been in my WIPs for so long#steddie#TW: brain damage#concussed Steve Harrington#Eddie Munson#angst#because i love to torture these boys#Steve Harrington#hurt/comfort#write Rae write#my writing#stranger things#Steve Harrington has brain damage#stranger things fic#Steddie fic#Steddie ficlet#cliff hanger#I’m so sorry#Steve Harrington whump#Eddie x Steve#Steve x Eddie#stranger things ficlet#recovery fic#disabled Steve Harrington
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steve harrington - you are in love <3
congrats on 2k!
You Are In Love | S.H.
summary: you and steve have been best friends forever, but overtime, you both realize that there's something more to your friendship than you both thought there was.
pairing: steve harrington x hopper!reader
includes: fluff, minimal usage of Y/N, oblivious idiots, kissing, el and reader are siblings, robin and max play match maker
a/n: cutie patootie stevie! (rules for celebration here!)
Steve Harrington was the type of man girls would go crazy over. From the way he behaved to the way he dressed, they would do anything to get his attention. Luckily for you, he deemed you to be his best friend since childhood. When Tommy and Carol whined about you always hanging around them in high school, Steve would swiftly change the subject. He really only liked hanging out with you anyway.
When you both graduated, something shifted between the two of you. Without the hindrance of Tommy and Carol, you and Steve were free to do whatever you wanted. Whenever you would hang around him, it felt like time would stop. He kept you on your toes despite knowing him for so long.
Weekly dinners around Hawkins during the year would soon become a tradition between the two of you. In your eyes they were friendly dates, but to the kids, you were practically dating. From the whispers as you hung back with him when taking the kids around the mall to the silver necklace he bought you during the summer — they saw something you and Steve couldn't.
They had to do something about it. Fortunately for them, you both made it quite easy.
"Harrington, are you taking me to dinner today or should we reschedule?" You hop onto the counter of Family Video, crossing your legs and smiling brightly at him. "Henderson told me you might have to drive him home after his DND thing or whatever."
"First of all," He started and pulled your legs to the side, sending you a bored look. "I'm at work and you can't bother me." You jokingly pout and follow his movements, watching him restock the bowl of candies at the front. "Secondly, we're still on for dinner. Dustin can get a ride from Munson."
You throw your head back and laugh, "Ah yes, the shared custody of your child."
He rolled his eyes and looked past your head, narrowing his eyes at Max and Eleven. "Why did the girls want to come here again?"
"Uhm, they said they were checking out a new movie that came out." You shrug and slide off the counter. You look in their direction to find them giggling and whispering about something you almost wanted to know about. Almost. "Anyway, don't miss me too much. I'll see you in a few hours, Harrington."
Steve pressed a kiss to the side of your head and pushed a stray piece of hair away from your face. "I'll see you in a bit, Hopper."
You grinned at him and sent him one last wave before rounding up the girls, dragging them back to your car. Before you could even ask them to buckle up, they began hounding you with questions you never expected them to ask. One of the more odd questions sticking out the most.
"Have you ever slept with Steve?" Eleven asked, making you whip around with wide eyes and mouth agape. Her own eyes widened in fear and looked at you with concern. "What?"
Your face flushed a dark red and you began to stutter over your words, unsure of where the question even originated from. "Well, I— No, I haven't but I'm— I'm sorry? What's happening? Do you even know what that means?"
"That you sleep in the same bed as him." She tilted her head and giggled at your red face. "Is that not what that means?"
Max shook her head but found it all amusing, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows at you. "You seem a little flustered, Hopper. What's up with that?"
"Nothing." You glare at her from your rear view as you pull out of the parking and begin the drive to her house. When Eleven still stared in confusion, you sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. "Yes, I have slept in the same bed as Steve before. And not like that, Mayfield."
"What?"
You shake your head and follow the road down, eyes occasionally flickering up to look at the girls who were still giggling. You didn't understand what they were trying to get at. You've always been able to sleep in the same bed as Steve since an incident years ago, but that was the extent of it all. Sure, you would occasionally sleep in one of his shirts and he would make you breakfast in the mornings, but that was it.
"Have you ever been on a date, Y/N?" Eleven asked again and fiddled with the ends of her sweater, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. "Like the ones me and Mike go on?"
"Uh," You signal and stop at a red light, fingers tapping the steering wheel in an effort to keep your cool. "I have, but it's been a while since I've been on a date."
As you turn, Eleven makes another comment that nearly makes you swerve right off the road. "I thought you and Steve were dating."
You choke on your spit and grip the wheel harder, face redder than Max's hair. Although you knew your sister's words were somewhat innocent, you knew the other girl was behind all the questioning. Steve was nothing but a friend to you. Your best friend. It would be weird to think of him as anything other than that, right?
Since childhood, he was nothing but your best friend. Sometimes you couldn’t help but think what would happen if anything else came out of it, but only in your dreams. When you realized how quiet you were, you silently cursed yourself for staying silent for too long as the girls came to their own conclusion.
"He kisses you a lot." Max drawled and bit back a smirk when your face reddens again, the sight nearly making her laugh once more. "Like more than you study for your exams in college—"
"What will it take for you two to be quiet for the rest of the ride?" You continue to glare at the red-head in the backseat and squint when she opened her mouth. "And your answer will not be money."
Max sighed and looked at Eleven, their eyes meeting and silently communicating with each other. They grinned wickedly and looked over at you, tone overly sweet when they answered your question.
"Admit you're in love with Steve Harrington."
"Oh, Stevie!" Robin grinned widely as she sauntered back in from the break room, leaning back against the counter. She met his confused eyes and tilted her head, still wearing a mischievous grin. "I have a tiny, little question for you."
Steve dug through the boxes underneath the table and waved his hand, barely listening to the girl. "Which is?"
"Could I just — I dunno — take a peek at your wallet?” She asked and pursed her lips to stop from laughing when she saw his incredulous expression peek from underneath the counter. “I just want to make sure my assumptions are right.”
"About what?" Steve sighed in exasperation and ran his fingers through his hair, praying that his hair still looked perfect after how many times he had done it.
"Just give me your stupid wallet." Robin huffed and snatched the leather from his hands. She scrunched her nose at him before opening the wallet, gasping when she found what she was looking for. "Oh my gosh."
Steve creased his brows and looked at the contents of his wallet. There was nothing but cash, his license, cards, and picture he’s had since high school. If Robin was planning on stealing, she picked the wrong day.
"What?"
"You do have a picture of Y/N in your wallet!" Robin all but squealed like a child, causing the customers in the store to look over at the commotion.
Steve sent them a strained smile before grabbing his wallet back from Robin and tucking it away, muttering quiet obscenities to the girl. Robin rolled her eyes, but the smirk that curled her lips overtook her emotions. He knew that some kind of electricity between the two oblivious idiots.
"You like her!" She spoke in a sing-song voice, lightly punching his shoulder. Robin laughed in excitement and shook her head before pausing, turning to look at Steve like a behavioral analyst. "Unless it's something more."
He looked to his left and to his right before raising a brow at her. He would never admit it out loud, but somewhere along the line he fell for you. Hard. From summer car drives to coffee at midnight — you were the one for him. Yet he didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had.
When Steve stayed silent for too long, she started to punch his shoulder in excitement again. It was the silence between asking about love that seemed to trigger everyone today.
"Oh, you're in love! Steve 'the hair' Harrington finally falls in love with his one true love!" She dramatically put a hand to her forehead and leaned back on the counter again. "I thought I would never live to see the day that happens."
He huffed and lightly shoved her, rubbing his hand over his face. "She's my best friend."
"And?" Robin pushed him back and continued to smile, clearly finding his reaction amusing. It wasn’t rare for her to tease him about his dates, but knowing that he was deeply in love with you made it so much more fun. "She clearly likes you too."
"She does?" Steve perked up and rolled his eyes when she winked at him. He flipped her off and pretended to be busy again. “You’re so annoying.”
"Stevie is in love!" She laughed again and sighed softly, tapping her fingers against the counter. "You're going to dinner with her tonight, right?"
He sent her an odd look and nodded, brows furrowing in confusion. "Yeah, what does that—?"
"Confess tonight! I'm sure she loves you too, Harrington." She slammed her palms down onto the counter, once again attracting the customers in the store. Steve sent them another apologetic look before turning his head to glare at the girl. By the end of the day, he swore that they would get a complaint about Robin.
Robin put a hand up to his face when she saw he was going to speak. “And before you back out, the girls and I already made a plan so nothing becomes awkward between the two of you if it fails."
Steve’s eyes widened and pushed her hand out of the way, mind reeling at all the knew information. "Wait what?"
"Nothing!"
After dinner, you both decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. The temperature was perfect and you and Steve had plenty of calories to kill before heading to bed. Besides, you both had unspoken words to say to one another.
"Are you okay? You've been acting strange since you picked me up." You nudged your shoulder with his and tilted your head, eyes worried with concern.
As you walked through the neighborhood, the orange lights from the posts began to flicker on as the sun set in front of you. On instinct, you moved closer to Steve, accommodating to the warmth you were losing. He hid a small smile and pulled you close by the shoulders.
Steve shrugged and kissed the side of your head again. The gears in his head were loudly turning and he wasn’t sure how to make them stop. He met your eyes and smiled softly when you smiled up at him.
"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the new diner?" He nudged his head back toward the diner.
You hummed and tapped your chin in thought, snapping your fingers when you figured out how to put it. "A solid six and a half. They threw us a dirty glare for being too loud, but their milkshakes were perfect."
He raised his brows and chuckled softly when you rolled your eyes at him. You were always such a sucker for strawberry milkshakes. "Yeah?"
"Yes, Harrington.” You send him a teasing smile before extending your arm and flashing him your left hand adorned with the wrapping from the straw wrapper. “I even got to make us our paper rings."
You turned to face him properly and grabbed his left hand, lacing them together to show the matching rings. You went to say something else when you found him already staring at you, making your mind instantly blank.
Steve swallowed and squeezed your hand, taking a step closer to you. "Y/N?"
"Yeah?" You murmur and take your own step closer until you were chest to chest.
His gaze dropped to your lips before looking back into your eyes, eyes filled with so much emotion. You gave him a curt nod and let him cup your cheek, shutting your eyes when he leaned in.
Your lips met and for the first time, you really believed time truly stopped. It was just you and him on the sidewalk of Hawkins, Indiana. Your own hands came up to grab the lapels of his denim jacket, deepening the kiss when he pulled you impossibly closer.
When you finally pulled away, your mind was still blanking and the first thing you could say was —
"Oh, my strawberry milkshake." You whisper out before groaning, hiding your face in his shoulder. "Now the thing I say after we first kiss will always be strawberry milkshake!"
Steve kisses the top of your head and gently squeezed your waist. "You're cute."
You scoff before looking up, playing with the buttons on his jacket. "Did Robin put you up to this?"
"Yep." He chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, narrowing his eyes at you when he realized what Robin meant. "Did the girls?"
"Yep." You sigh and push up on your toes to give him a quick peck. You tilt your head when he smiles, "We're not going to tell them about this and make them feel bad, right?"
"Of course not.” He laced his hands with yours and began the trek back to his car. "We're only best friends after all."
©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms
#august’s works 🫧#august’s 2k celebration 🩷#august’s ts works 🪩#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x you#steve harrington angst#steve harrington scenario#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x reader fluff#steve harrington x y/n fluff#steve harrington x y/n smut#steve harrington x fem#steve harrington fandom#steve harrington fic recs#steve harrington headcanon#steve harrington hc#steve harrington hurt/comfort#steve harrington stranger things#stranger things x reader#stranger things#steve harrington smut#stranger things x you#stranger things x y/n#x reader#steve harrington comfort
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Recently Viewed: The Comfort of Strangers
[The following review contains SPOILERS; YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!]
The Criterion Channel categorizes The Comfort of Strangers as an “erotic thriller,” but I would instead describe it as a sensual drama. With the exception of Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters, it is director Paul Schrader’s most visually stylish film. His camera glides along like a disembodied spirit, stalking through dark alleyways and lavishly furnished apartments as though haunting the spaces it inhabits. Composer Antonio Badalamenti’s score likewise soars, evocative and ethereal. And cinematographer Dante Spinotti’s giallo-flavored lighting lends the ominous architecture depth, dimension, and texture. The imagery and sound design perfectly complement the tone—simultaneously beautiful and foreboding.
Structurally, the movie is also a tragedy. As I watched it, I was reminded of a quote from Ari Aster’s Hereditary:
[Heracles] thinks he has control. But let's all remember: Sophocles wrote the oracle so that it was unconditional. Meaning Heracles never had any choice. Right? So, does this make it more tragic or less tragic than if he did have a choice?
From the moment they enter the narrative, The Comfort of Strangers’ hapless protagonists—an English couple on holiday in a last desperate effort to rekindle their romance—are doomed. They blindly, aimlessly wander the labyrinthine streets of Venice, blundering into dead ends, penned in by a network of crisscrossing canals—all the while oblivious to the fact that they are being led to the slaughter by a stealthy, enigmatic predator. By the time the cunning malefactor (played by Christopher Walken, who is equal parts charismatic and intimidating) has sprung his trap, they’ve had ample opportunity to escape—indeed, they even discussed rescheduling their flight home in an earlier scene— but they remain blissfully unaware of the peril until their final, fatal mistake.
If only the audience had the luxury of such ignorance! The inevitability of characters’ fate is evident from the very first frame. We pray for some miracle to avert the impending disaster; the urge to shout warnings at the screen is almost irresistible. Alas, our efforts are in vain; the gate has been checked, the picture locked.
Never has dramatic irony been so torturously, deliciously suspenseful.
#The Comfort of Strangers#Paul Schrader#Christopher Walken#Antonio Badalamenti#Criterion Channel#Criterion Collection#Criterion#film#writing#movie review
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Horror isekai where Perceiving the Weird Eldritch Thing gets you catapulted into a nightmare labyrinth of puzzle-solving.
I.e Those Who Perceive The Hunt of the Goblin King Must Partake In The Labyrinth and Can Only Be Freed If They Complete It In One Day and One Night. By Fae Law. For Reasons.
But the definition of “perception” clearly needs to be updated because some normal guy simply films the Hunt of the Goblin King Behind Arby’s, and puts it on Facebook -
No, not instagram or TikTok, it’s important that it be Facebook -
Because the rules are pretty clear, “the rules are the rules” as is carved ominously in elvish runes above the grim gate, and the Contract is Sealed. and so therefore the guy and 25 of their most random real-life acquaintances must run the gauntlet together. It’s Some Guy, their immediate neighbors, their first partner’s mom, their friends from hobby Facebook groups (oh this poor guy and their hobbies; the elderly birdwatchers from Facebook and the young up-and-coming drag king community), their random teen kid niece, college friends, a dog who also watched the video, a couple consisting of a woman who is the guy’s Facebook friend and showed her husband the video, and the husband doesn’t even know Some Guy, so he’s in the labyrinth and absolutely furious about being forced to be involved, and they proceed to break up over the course of the puzzle.
It’s important that the narrative keeps trying to be a sexy dark horror isekai! but within this the comedic reality of Catherine, 52, the guy’s horse-riding instructor, being passionately involved in escape-room-style puzzle solving and grappling with minor goblins. They are in fact speedrunning the gauntlet.
The Goblin King finally has to say: all right, actually, I only really set all this up to fuck with one (1) guy at a time, thanks for your willingness to participate, but I think all 25 of you can consider the gauntlet fully run.
And the group would be quite hurt by that. The rules are the rules. We have a contract, actually. Let Catherine cook.
#this feels extremely like… 2015 tumblr to me#but it also feels a sort of comforting honesty in this time#thank you for giving me this safe space#this plot idea just feels like some kind of nostalgia . to me.#writing it out I felt like I knew it was unfashionably written AND YET#I was thinking last night about how Stranger Things works quite#well because it’s set in the 80s… it is load-bearing that it be set in the 80s… it’s plot relevant and worldbuilding#well for some reason this plot has to be set pre-pandemic post-impact-text-memes
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Sorry babe but if me saying I use "any and all" pronouns stresses you out, that's honestly a you problem. It's not my job to pick a "true" or "most preferred" pronoun for you to call me by when my preference is, in fact, use everything chaotically and change it up often.
If you want to ask for clarification on how I'd like various pronouns used, that's fine. But saying to my face "ah I always get stressed about any pronouns - what do I call you"? Just rude tbh. I told you my preference, figure it out. It/they/he/she/xe/zir/fae/rat/bitch/ass/motherfucker I don't care, it's not my problem.
#pronouns#trans#trans stuff#queer#if i tell you any pronouns i am judging you based on your response#and the worst possible response is 'but your pronouns should make me; a total stranger; comfortable'#the system speaks
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