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ryanguzmansource · 1 year ago

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Full Audio Transcript (5.21.24)

Hey guys, welcome to I've Never Said This Before with me, Tommy Didario.

If you are not watching 9-1-1 on ABC, you are seriously missing out. The show is so phenomenal that it has been renewed for an eighth season and, my guest today—well, he is phenomenal as well. In fact, he is on my show because of you. I saw all of the tweets, the DMs, the emails—all of it so, like a genie in a bottle, your wish has been granted.

The talented actor Ryan Guzman stars in the smash hit firefighter drama series 9-1-1 and audiences fell in love with his character, Eddie, the moment he debuted in Episode 1 of Season 2. Man, he has become a staple on the show and fans have been rooting for Eddie throughout the years, and Ryan plays each moment of Eddie's journey with such care and vulnerability and truth.

We have a lot to cover today and I have a feeling you're going to really enjoy this fun but also personal and deep conversation. We do dive into some very serious mental health conversations, so after the interview, I will be providing resources for anyone struggling with their own mental health. This is one of the most powerful interviews I have ever done, and I really thank Ryan for opening up in the ways that he did today because I know that he is going to help so many people out there feel less alone.

So, let's see if we can get Ryan to say something he has never said before.

[INTRO MUSIC]

Ryan, my friend, how are you doing today?

I'm good, brother. How are you?

I'm good. I know you have been working your butt off. You were just saying you were filming all night. Are you exhausted or are you on adrenaline right now?

A little mixture of both. I got a little coffee pumped through my system. But yeah, I think I worked six out of seven days this last week. We've been doing around 14, 15 hour days. And I just got off last night around 1.30 in the morning. So got home around 2.30. But we're here. We're here.

Well, you were putting in the work. Congratulations to you on all of the success with this show. It's of course now on ABC. People are loving it. The numbers are going insane. And you've always been a fan favorite from day one. When you had that first scene of you putting that shirt on in slow motion and your body was glistening and Whatta Man was playing, people just fell in love with your character. But that's not just why they love your character. I mean, over the seasons, people have found you so relatable and and really, really are truly invested in the role that you play. Why do you think that is?

I like to say that, I mean, I try to play as grounded as I can, but I think the story itself is just the way Tim Minear writes the character. And I think he's always had a special connection with this kind of character. So, just indebted to how he writes and the connectivity between Eddie and his son. I mean, it's just like it pulls at the heartstrings, you know, and that's always been a fan favorite as well. So, you know, I'm living in gratitude for everything that's been written for that character and I try to do as much justice as I can.

Well, you're nearing the end of Season 7 and past seasons for you have been a bit heavier, a bit more intense. You've really gone through quite a lot of things that we'll touch on a bit later, which I know is also part of the reason why so many people relate to you. Are you enjoying this journey this season?

Yeah, you know what? I haven't really been able to kind of flex my humorous side and just kind of lightheartedness, kind of a vibe about Eddie, and I love that aspect of him. So while everybody else is kind of going through chaos, while Cap is going through chaos, Eddie is kind of, you know, trying to keep everybody together while, you know, Chimney and Hen be going at it during the tsunami and The Poseidon Adventure, Eddie is just, you know, being there for everybody as much as he can. So not to say that he's always going to be happy because Tim always has this thing about saying, you know, if I just let you guys be happy, then there'd be no story. You got to have some kind of drama. Nobody wants to show up just for people smiling all the time. But yeah, we've got some things in store for the rest of the season. And from what we've already shot, I've been super pleased about, you know, this new way of life for Eddie.

Like I said, the things you've gone through are intense throughout the years. Do you have any fear stepping into this role or any anxiety before you had to film some of those more intense scenes? Because it's a lot.

Yeah, you know what? Prior to 9-1-1, I might have had some fears about the depth of a lot of the things that we shot. I honestly didn't really call myself an actor until like maybe three and a half years ago.

No.

Yeah. I thought I was just fooling everybody, trying to get jobs and land the movies that I was getting. And then I think somewhere around the third season, a co-star of mine kind of, like, metaphorically slapped me in the face and said, you know, let's really get into this, man. You got some really good opportunity here. So that's when I started calling myself an actor. But to be honest, the depth of Eddie in the past three, four seasons has been amazing as just a class. It's been class for me. It's been an opportunity to flex these emotions that I don't get to flex in my day-to-day life and to access certain things and see how far can I push Eddie, how, you know, in the scene where Eddie is just losing his stuff and he's breaking everything in his house. Obviously, I've never done it in my house, but how do I get there? How can I allow the audience to feel what I'm feeling? And that task itself becomes a challenge. And I really [like] that type of challenge. So again, living in gratitude for all the little things that Eddie presents that, you know, I haven't really been presenting my own life.

So with that being said, is there a storyline that's particularly special to you for any given reason?

I kind of lean automatically towards the military/PTSD just because I have a cousin who served six tours and, you know, he shared with me—and I actually, oddly enough, during the episode of Eddie Begins, I brought him on as a military tech and he helped out everybody in the production. His name is Randy Hudson. I, you know, I love that guy to death—but, yeah, he's shared with me a lot of his issues that he's gone through and a lot of the obstacles he's gone through in his day to day life and what it's like to be a military vet coming back and kind of assimilating back into civilian lifestyle. So that storyline always kind of held a special place in my heart just because it was very close connected with me and my own family. And I always hope that, you know, I did it justice enough for everybody that has that story ingrained in them.

I think you definitely did. I saw a lot of comments when I announced you as my guest saying that that was a very meaningful part of your journey on this show. I'm so curious, you know, quite often in television it moves so fast, there's always rewrites or so much going on. Was there ever a story that you wanted to come to fruition that never did?

I hated the fact that we killed off Shannon so quick. I know she wasn't a very likable character for so many different reasons, but I always loved working with Devin. So I would love to explore a little bit more with that. But yeah, there's always beauty and chaos a little bit. So I would have loved the relationship, mother, father, parenting style aspect of Eddie's life to be a more explored, but unfortunately that can't happen anymore.

There's always so many things going on. I'm sure it's hard to fit them into each episode, and I'm sure things do have to get cut because major things keep happening episode after episode, one of them being recently, of course, Buck realized he's Bi and that's a storyline everyone's going crazy over. Did you see that coming? Were you like, I think one day this is going to happen for him?

Well, I mean, it's always kind of been in the ether. Everybody, you know, all the fans, you know, have their speculations about Eddie and Buck and, you know, for the longest time, I think Oliver and I again had lightheartedness to it. We always kind of like saw it as like, oh, at least they're so interested in our characters. Thank God they're interested in our characters. They're not ignoring us, and I don't know if either of us had a pinpoint, you know, idea on which character or if any character would actually lead in that way.

But again, all credit to Tim Minear. He's the one that knows the way. So he chose Buck's character to explore that route. And now seeing it happen in front of our eyes, it makes so much sense. And it just the way him, Buck and Tommy are getting together and the way they're exploring their own individuality and personality. It's beautiful to watch. I was very excited to see, you know, that episode specifically, just for the fact that it was such a moment between, you know, a friend and another friend who had held this huge secret. And how do you come out to your friend?

I had a friend, you know—because I know I've had this actually in my own personal life. I've said this in prior interviews—I had a friend who was deadly scared of coming out to me. And I realized that that moment itself wasn't so much the journey for me, you know, it was this hard journey for himself. And all I had to do was catch. I just had to be there for him, and I was like, that moment itself is so beautiful. I can't wait to do that scene. I can't wait to, you know, show the world like this is how you be there for your brother.

Wow, how cool that you could pull from your real life experience and make that scene even more special, which is why I think it came off so incredibly powerful. It really was so cool to see. And the reception has been absolutely incredible in terms of people feeling like, you know, they're seen through that character and it's on prime-time TV. And you don't see a ton of that, which is still kind of crazy. But, you know, and of course, there were some negative comments, which blows my mind. I mean, I'm sure that blew your mind, too, to see that because who cares, right?

Honestly, I've got this now filter for negative comments. They just kind of seep right through and I don't even hold on to anything. So all I've seen is really, really good comments.

And one of the best parts is actually I've gone to work and Oliver himself has been like telling me these stories of people saying, man, I did not have the strength to come out until way later on in my life. So I'm like, oh man, could you imagine 20, 30 years of holding on to this repressed thing and then it just eating away at you and not being able to say anything, even to the closest people and then seeing something on television to inspire you. That kind of thing is just like, whoa, okay, we're doing something much greater, much bigger than us.

He's not the only one inspiring its characters like you because you're showing, you know, what an ally means, and I think that's really cool to see this like macho, cool guy that's just like, cool, like who cares? And that's also equally as powerful and as important. Before we put a pin on this, you know, part of the conversation, you mentioned you never know what the writers are going to do, and I think there were talks at one point of possibly Eddie being the one to come out in some sort of way. Do you laugh and have fun with all of the fandom's obsession with you as Eddie and Buck getting together? Like, is that something you guys always are seeing and hearing? And I know everyone brings it up to you and it's something that's always looming. Like, how do you react to that? Does it ever get tiring for you?

Again, if the fans are interested, we're doing our job. So I love the love. And I mean, unfortunately, I'm not the one that writes it. So it's all up to Tim. But me and Oliver have a really good time with the fact that, you know, people are so invested into these storylines. And in fact, they're so invested, they're creating their own storylines. They're sending us clips and edits and videos. And, you know, every now and then, Oliver will show me something, I'll show Oliver something. Like, did we actually do this in a scene? Because they cut it so well together.

Yeah.

So, yeah, I think at the end of the day, you know, we just love the love. We're here to entertain and tell the truth. If it's true to the character, then yeah.”

[COMMERCIAL BREAK]

You can't predict the future. Nobody can on this show. But if the opportunity one day happened to come your way where they were like, this storyline might be explored between Buck and Eddie, would you be open to that storyline in the future? I see you smiling. I see Oliver had the same reaction, a big ass grin on his face when I asked this.

Yeah, you know, like I said, it's got to live in the truth and I think right now we live in a moment—or me, I live moment to moment—so I love the fact that the biggest plot point between these two characters is one happens to be Bi, one happens to be Hetero, and they have this vulnerability towards each other. And that is the truth to me is it's the fact that you have such a safe space and it doesn't matter your sexuality, that you have a safe space to talk to this individual and he can fully accept you. If we can stay with that, then whatever happens, happens.

But I don't necessarily want to push the fact that because you're vulnerable, you have to be one way or the other in your sexuality. Then I would hate to have a lot of other men who are struggling mentally and not sure about, oh, do I even open up? Because will that make me something that I'm not? I would hate to push that narrative. So if we live in the truth, whatever happens, happens. And again, I'm here for it all.

Whatever happens, happens. That's a nice way to put it. And I agree with you. I think there's power in both. I think there's power in showing a strong friendship that you don't always get to see. And then there's power if something eventually does happen. So whatever happens, happens. I like that, man. What can we expect for the rest of the season with your characters? Anything you can tease? The finale is coming up. We have a couple more weeks. What can we expect?

What can we expect? Well, we can expect that Eddie's smiles might turn to frowns.

Oh no.

Or at least confusion, maybe. We'll start to see, you know, has he gotten past certain traumas? Or is he just kind of pushed them to the side and acting like they're not there?

You know, I have to say a lot of people are still holding on to hope that we're going to get that karaoke scene.

I mean, yeah, we had such a good time playing that karaoke scene, and it was kind of a let down a little bit to know that it wasn't going to be in there. But now, again, looking at the episode itself, as fun as it would be, the main story was Chimney. And the way Kenneth Choi played Chimney, and that episode specifically—I mean, I think he got, you know, performance of the week for that—it would have been a disservice to add, you know, a three-minute scene of us laughing and having a great time and being drunks and karaoke and take away from that performance. So I'm glad that Tim made that decision, and I don't know if he has any plans on showing that later on or whatnot or having some extended clip version, but I can tell you this much, everybody from the cast to the crew to the background had a wild and crazy time doing that scene.

And I think what I just heard you say is you might accidentally drop it on your Instagram very soon.

I might get fired if I do that.

All right. Well, we'll see. I'll talk to ABC PR. No problem. What do you want to see for season eight? Like, are you thinking about the future? Is there like, OK, if I can have my way, I absolutely want to explore blank.

To be honest, there's so much going at us so rapid, so fast paced at this moment. The scripts are getting handed in like quick as can be. So we have a moment's notice to kind of know what we're doing and where we're going with our character. From what I know, from what I've shot thus far, I think next season will literally be a refresh button to Eddie. And starting over in so many different ways, so many new ways in which Eddie has never explored and we've never seen Eddie explore. He'll be on his own in a lot of areas.

Speaking of that, I have to bring up season five, the mental health breakdown, man. That was intense. And a lot of people felt very connected to that. How was it stepping into that scene for you and that storyline? Because it's pretty powerful.

Thank you. Man, that was cathartic, to be honest. It was I've gone through my own mental health issues as far as like, you know, my own depression and anxiety, and, you know, I was raised in an age where men aren't vulnerable and aren't allowed to show feelings. So that kind of repression is like a ticking time bomb, you know, especially for a person in Eddie's life, or his lifestyle. So to kind of relinquish this boundary of who Ryan is and step into Eddie and just kind of just full-on dive deep into these this well of emotion, it was, it was almost like therapy. It was crazy because, you know, from the second they started to say rolling, it's like my—I started to, you know, start bawling and crying, and when Buck comes in and, you know, he's trying to check in on me and the whole room is just all scattered around and I'm losing it—it's just like there was no semblance of Ryan anymore. It was just all Eddie and he was just lost, and that's what it is.

It's like if I were to look at my son, you know, five year old son, that's kind of what we revert back to is just this child that is just so scared and not having any sense of direction and—or hope that anybody will ever love him or ever see him. And it's just these like, you know, existential fears that come out within those tears, and that was my goal to portray that whole scene and then the scene following it. So to get there was just let go, just let go.

Well, the work you did was clearly honest and raw and vulnerable. You can't fake the work that you did in that. And it was really a powerful man for many people to kind of go through that with you and for people who have had their own experiences. And you're right, like, I'm from an old school Italian family. And, you know, you grow up thinking men don't go through that and men don't show those emotions. So to have that on prime-time TV is huge.

Yeah, I hope that helped out a lot of people. I hope that people were actually able to see that and at least, you know, go to their best guy friend, and, you know, I think that's what really needs to happen. As far as men, we need to lean on each other. You know, women have their own issues and they have their certain way of connecting with each other, but there's a special connection that you can have with your brother. And I give so much credit to quite a few of my personal brothers—including my actual brother—for allowing me to run to them in my moments of need, in my moments of feeling lost. And them, you know, being men themselves, not having to say one thing to me.

Or they can just, you know, if they see me in a moment of, you know, deep into a problem, they have the ability to say, well, here's a solution. And since I'm, you know, of like mind, I can be like, okay, you know what? Thank you for giving me some kind of direction. So yeah, I implore all men out there to kind of at least have one or two in your corner, you know, because we can't get anywhere without community.

Absolutely. What have you most learned about yourself through playing this character for so many years? You know, you joined in season two. It's been a lot of years now under your belt. Have you thought about that? Have you learned anything through playing, Eddie?

I've learned a lot through Eddie. I've learned patience. He's a—you know, he has a sense of patience that I didn't have in the beginning even prior to being a father, you know, and then kids itself, they teach you how to be patient. So, yeah, I've learned how to be there as a father. Kind of oddly enough, it was just living as one onscreen prior to actually being one in real life, it gave me, say, practice. I get to practice on television what I get to implore with my own children. And, you know, even if it's the worst thing for Eddie, you know, and I see him doing something horrible, at least I come back home, like, well, that can't happen. I can't do that with my kids. So, yeah, and in so many ways, it's helped me grow as a man, let alone a father.

That's pretty awesome when you can take things away from your job like that and become a better person. I love that so much. Can you believe you've been on the show for so long now? Do you ever think like, damn, that's not normal. That's the rarity in the business. So is that a cool feeling for you?

Yeah, I literally just had that moment yesterday. We were filming a scene, all of us, the whole cast, and I'm sitting outside—I can't tell you the location, that's going to blow something—I'm sitting outside one of the sets and I just had that moment to myself. I'm like, oh my God, I'm actually here. How did I get so lucky to be on not only just a television show, the number one television show out there, where we're in our seventh season and we're creating numbers that people don't even get in their first season? So again, if there's a moment to tap into, let's get into that gratitude again and just be super thankful that I was lucky enough to land this.

[COMMERCIAL BREAK]

That is so cool, and that's why I have no doubt you'll continue having so much success in your career and in your personal life because you keep bringing up gratitude, and it's very evident that's something you lead your life with. And in fact, I saw a recent Instagram post where you give a beautiful tribute to Twitch, and you credit him with being able to form connection with people in your life now and to different things and places, and I thought that was such a beautiful way to show people that you're working on yourself and you're a work in progress and that he helps you kind of open your eyes. So that was a really cool moment for you to also reveal.

Thank you, yeah. Yeah, I believe so much of the world right now is showcasing a polished version of themselves. And to be honest, I did it myself for so long that I've become tired of it, and I would much rather get to the raw—the raw, the unfiltered, the, you know, the mess ups, the, you know—I've stuck my foot in my mouth too many times. I've done, you know, stupid things in my life, and I never want to present myself as a person that does everything great because there's so many things I suck at.

So I think there's an opportunity within that rawness to invite others to become raw themselves, and for us to see that, you know, we're not competing with each other, we're competing with ourself and our own image of ourself and friends like, you know, a brother like, like Twitch, you know, and—not understanding what he was going through and that lack of connectivity that I always, you know, felt but never acted on, which again, I felt imposter syndrome for so long of calling him my brother. It really struck a chord in me and now I can't go backwards. Now I'm propelled forward to be like, is this conversation authentic between us or are we just kind of saying what we have to say just so we can pass on to the next person and create whatever that is? And I'm not here for that. I would much rather have that depth and I'd much rather have that rawness.

Beautifully said and a perfect segue into what I want to finish this conversation with, which is based off the title of the show: I've Never Said This Before. So I'm wondering, is there anything that comes to mind that you want to share today that you've never shared before?

Uh. Huh. Yeah, you know what? I've been thinking about this for so long and there's so many things, you know, that come to mind. One specifically, and I've been hesitant to actually say any of this for so long because, you know, it's been years upon years.

About six and a half, seven years ago—and I've really never said this out loud, especially onto a public platform—I had my own mental health crisis and I tried at one point in time to take my own life. And luckily, it didn't work. Luckily, I got a second chance by the grace of God. And from that moment forward, I've taken each step as an opportunity to erase what got me there and build on what allowed me to live forward. So I would say that that moment itself, in addition to what happened to my brother Twitch, are probably the two biggest fundamental moments of my entire life and have allowed me to have a deeper sense of mercy and empathy towards every individual.

So I would implore that all men renounce this fact of, you know, you're a tough man, you have to hold all this in, but lean on your brother, really lean on your brother. And if your brothers aren't being there in the way they need to be, find some new ones. Because that's another thing, if you don't have the people that are conducive to a healthy lifestyle and you're keeping on to them because of loyalty, let them go. There's plenty of other people. There's people that have been through your situation before that are willing and more than willing, you know, to help. So yeah, that was a big one.

Man, first of all, thank you for sharing something so personal and close to your heart with me today. I feel honored that you did open up and share that. And I'm truly—God, this could be another half hour conversation, so I'll keep it short—but I'm truly grateful that you are spreading that message today for anybody listening because, you know, mental health is a crisis and I think people sometimes look at you, they look at me, they think everything's perfect. We are, you know, in this public space and what can be wrong?

And when you humanize real shit like that, it makes people feel less alone. And you got through it, you realize that wasn't the right way to go about it and your life forever changed for the better, and I'm truly grateful that you put that message out today because you have no idea how many people you're going to be helping with that. And I truly know that that's something that's not easy to get off your chest. And for that, I thank you and I know so many people will be thanking you, and I hope you feel kind of like a little bit of a weight lifted that you share that hopefully.

Yeah, it's kind of hard to understand what I'm feeling at the moment. But I hope in what you said is true. And I hope that, again, I would love to do more for mental health, especially for men, I mean, just in general, to be honest. But yes, I hope that there is a new wave out there that's kind of taking over that we can actually have some cohesiveness and connection, a true understanding of what connection is. Let's revisit that. So this issue isn't a common issue anymore. If we can take that down, then let's do it. I'm here for it.

Beautifully said, and thank you again for sharing that. I could talk to you for hours, especially leaving with that. I think you're such a cool person. And you watch people, I get to talk to people all the time. But this to me was a real conversation, and that's what I value. That's why I have a show called I've Never Said This Before, and I want to talk about the projects that the fans love, but also leave room to talk about things that matter. I don't think there's enough of that. So I truly thank you for hanging out, for coming on, for talking about the fun of 911, which we all love, and it's killing it in every way, but also sharing a little piece of you. I hope you enjoyed the conversation as much as I have.

Thanks for having me, my man. Yeah, I had a great time.

Thank you, and remind everyone where, how, when, all the things about your show.

Yes, please watch Thursdays at 8 on ABC.

All right, and stay tuned for the karaoke scene that you just promised you will be dropping.

Yeah, maybe when I'm fired again.

All right, man, until we meet again, take care.

All right, brother.

#ryan guzman #may 2024 #i've never said this before #transcribed #5.21.24

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buckys-little-belle · 10 months ago

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Hey, saw you wanted head cannon requests so I am here to give some.

So a little who loves fall! Apples, leaves, smells, cider, halloween, bats, costumes, all of it! I love fall so so much, so I think fall headcanons would be so cute!

I personally like the marauders, but I know you don't write for them all the time, plus I also like others! (And I can't pick lol) so steve/bucky, to steve/eddie, to Marauders, I love them all so much and I love how you write them!

I personally am masc/enby so if your ok with writing the headcanons either masc or enby that'd be great, but if not, fem works, too.

I love your writing either way. Have a nice day! Or night!

-The small Rat Boi

Fall Fan

Marauders (Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, James Potter) x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns Used)

Warnings -

Notes -

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW!

. ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ .

The boys, especially Remus, love fall. It's pretty, and it's still nice enough outside to go for walks, but also cool enough that a cup of tea and it's steam helps warm a chilled nose.

The three of them loved it even more after they met you, a true Fall Fan. You loved every aspect of it, the apple orchard, the pumpkin patch, halloween, falling leaves, everything.

So the boys dive head first into fall now that you're stuck by their sides.

They 100% plan group halloween costumes! They'll buy everything they need from the thrift store, and they'll sew things/glue things if need be. You get to pick what the theme is, but you leave the adult stuff like hot glue, sewing needles, and the pain of having to somehow make retractable bat wings to them.

They definitely hand out buckets of candy to the others in the dorm, making sure you get to go trick or treating from room to room. Filling your pillow case with small snacks that are somehow all your favorite things ...

Remus is a amateur photographer, so when fall comes around he makes you, Sirius, and James all pose in different ways for his portfolio. He does his best to capture the movement right when you throw leaves in the air, and he tries his best to get the three of you to do some more serious poses.

James loves going apple picking, he did it as a kid and couldn't wait to take you. All four of you walk around from tree to tree picking different apples to take home, warm apple cider in your hands, well their hands, they won't let you hold the cup since it didn't come with a lid.

Sirius is the perfect companion to carve pumpkins with. He's good at art, and so every time you come up with some crazy idea for a carving he's already rolling up his sleeves and grabbing his sketch pad.

Walks through the castle grounds become your favorite thing. Kicking through leaf piles, or jumping in them. Finding pretty leaves to hang in your dorm room window. Fighting with James over who found the biggest leaf (it was you, but you said he won so he wouldn't be sad)

The boys definitely surprise you with little fall gifts here and there. A pair of black cat socks one day, a mug shaped like a pumpkin on a random Thursday, a bat stuffed animal another day. You cherish them with your whole heart, and jump up and down every time they say they have a surprise.

They take turns making up fall related bedtime stories, Sirius' are always sort of scary, James' are silly every time, and Remus' you swear should become a children's book writer because his are the most well rounded.

All in all fall with the boys is the best time of the year. It's action packed, and full of little adventures, and it's a season stuffed to the brim with fun activities.

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buckley-diaztruther · 4 months ago

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ive found the more that i read fics and the more I think about it, i really prefer the version of events where eddie doesn't have his own hoe phase before getting with buck. there's a couple reasons to this, one being that I hc eddie as being demisexual. but also because (and somewhat related to this), I don't think Eddie would. Not because it's bad or wrong or that he'd feel ashamed, but because I believe once Eddie is aware of his feelings, he's not going to want anyone but Buck.

there's no need or drive to "experiment" or "practice" because he can do all of that with buck or he can do it by himself. but his heart is gonna be set on buck and if he can't have him then I can easily see Eddie just deciding on playing it solo for the rest of his life.

another aspect which is somvery entirely my own feeling and not one I think is a hard rule, but i get frustrated sometimes with the way media (especially fanfics) take a person coming out as like. a switch flipping from celibate to promiscuity. and while that is such a real and valid experience for so many people, it borders on feeding into the stereotype that queer people (especially gay men) are all whores (i use this word affectionately). like every gay man just has to go out and slut it up every weekend at the club because that's what they all do.

and sometimes i just want to see the equally real and important experience of people who come out and then just. keep living life like normal, but happier because they're living their truth. whether that's bc theyre also ace-spec or just. don't prefer casual sex. and maybe that's me projecting as an ace-spec individual, but also. who doesn't want to see themselves represented on screen?

to me it'd be nice to see and it also, imo, fits eddies character better with what we know of him. sex has always been an obligation or an avoidance tactic for most of his life and that doesn't mean that he is ace-spec but I think it gives a believable reason for why Eddie wouldn't want to just. throw himself out there and see what sticks. and while these opposite can also be true, that his coming out means he can actually enjoy sex for what it is rather than an obligation, Eddie has just never struck me as someone who does casual (he's a nester) and when he tries it does not go well.

it circles back to the "im your first, not your last" concept and the amazing fics that have come from it with buck spiraling about being Eddie's "first". those fics are always great but in the ones where eddie does start sleeping around and dating at bucks insistence, it just felt so wrong to me. because it's turning dating and sex into an obligation for eddie again, something he's only doing because buck told him to. and sure maybe he enjoys it but I think it'd be a similar feeling to how buck used sex as his only option for getting affection or connection with other people to the point that it kinda felt like self harm. and forcing yourself to "get out there and experiment" when you aren't already enthusiastic about it is gonna end up similar, except it's hurting eddie, buck, and potentially whoever eddie is temporarily with because they'll inevitably get their heart broken the way 🤢tommy🤢 said he knew he would.

this has turned into such a huge tangent with tons of projection and im so sorry but also please tell me I'm not alone in this is literally feel ill thinking about it sometimes bc of how hard I relate to eddies journey

#911 abc #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 #911 fox #buddie fic

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stagefoureddiediaz · 9 months ago

Note

Weird anon, here! I'm glad you're getting joy out of discussing a canonical straight man that the actor has confirmed is straight <3

Well for starters - we are talking about characters in a tv show. They are not real people, they do not exist in real life and what I and others choose to see in a character and in their arc - because we can read subtext and the clues the show is giving us is perfectly valid. Indeed the show and a character being talked about with a queer lens is a good thing on multiple levels.

Secondly - Eddie has never been confirmed as canonically straight - the show has never explicitly stated Eddies sexuality in canon - just because he has currently only dated women (as far as we know) doesn’t mean he’s straight. If they wanted to close down conversations and speculation about Eddies sexuality they have had ample opportunities to do so, but they have not for a reason - just remember Buck was in the same boat until 704 when he figured out he was Bi - ergo no longer straight.

Thirdly - the show is very good at exploring narratives around people figuring themselves out and finding themselves and their found family - later in life - Eddies journey happening now is in keeping with that narrative choice - Michael figured out he was gay in later life, Buck figured out he was bi later in life. Maddie had a second Chance with chin, Athena and Bobby found second chances later in life with each other, etc etc - it’s literally what this show does. So why should a large section of fandom exploring Eddies journey through a queer lens rile you up so very much? Why is the fact we’re are finding joy in discussing a characters sexuality annoy you so much when it’s hasn’t been confirmed in any particular direction annoy you so much - telling a story or unrepression through Eddie would be an incredibly valuable storyline - especially for a Latino man - Ryan has talked about machismo in recent interviews and wanting to break down those cultural norms and narratives through the characters he plays - so us discussing and speculating about Eddies arc being a queer one is perfectly valid. You don’t;t like it - block the tags and stop following people who do want to explore that aspect of a CHARACTER ON A TV SHOW - it really is very easy to do.

Also Ryan haas been using gender neutral pronouns when describing Eddies partners or possible future partners for a while - he has only referred to Eddie as heterosexual a couple of times - and specifically when Eddie was in a heterosexual relationship - so it is perfectly normal to use those terms. Oliver has said similar things in the past as well about Buck when Buck was dating women. So there is little to read into there - the actor is talking with the information they have at the time - but things can change - like I said - Ryan has exclusively been using gender neutral pronouns for a while (again much like Oliver started doing as well) and he has also said this in an interview;

‘I love the ambiguity of Eddie and that there’s connective tissue there - for queer people or not - to relate to and to fall in love and find themselves in who Eddie is. there is a vulnerability in Eddie, there is also a chaos in Eddie. there is so much realness in Eddie. And I love that there are so many fawns out there of all demographics that find themselves in Eddie.’

I Hope you enjoy tonight’s episode.

#Kym answers things #nonnie asks #media literacy is a thing #and people are allowed to discuss and speculate about fictional characters on a tv show in whatever way they want to #don’t like it - don’t engage and either block or scroll past #911 spoilers #eddie diaz #911 abc

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julemmaes · 7 months ago

Text

hit my ears as such an awful sound

I meant to post this months ago when I wrote it but I forgot, this is not my usual stuff (I mean it's still angsty as fuck, simply not my usual fandom). Hope you enjoy it anyway!!

Buck has a panic attack after lifting Eddie up and having flashbacks to the worst day of his life

ao3

word count: 6,304

Buck has never let himself dream this far.

He has fantasised about kissing his best friend on more occasions than he cares to admit, and he has thought about Eddie in even more passionate circumstances, where he definitely should have just focused on his now-ex boyfriend. Because the physical aspects of it all are easy for him. Daydreaming about making out and having sex has always been something that Buck doesn’t necessarily associate with Eddie alone. His ADHD-related hypersexuality makes it a common occurrence for him to imagine himself having sex with whoever he found attractive. But this is different.

Allowing himself to hope for something so peaceful, so quiet, soothing even… no, he hasn’t let himself dream that far.

Early Sunday mornings in their bed were a prospect he never allowed himself to think about, not even in a million years.

Well, not really theirs yet, but Buck refuses to call it anything else when he’s spent the past month and half sleeping in it, without missing a single night when they are off work. He has tried going back to his loft on multiple occasions, but Eddie has essentially begged him to stay every time. At this point, Buck is just waiting for Eddie and Chris to ask him to move in officially.

He woke up some time ago, when Eddie reached over his body carefully, trying not to touch him to turn off the alarm he’d forgotten to disable. He’d just turned on his side, sliding his arm around Eddie’s waist and burrowing his face in his chest before he could get up.

“Morning,” Eddie had said into his hair, putting his lips to his birthmark and staying there for a moment longer than necessary. Buck had mumbled something back, tightening his hold on his boyfriend.

Eddie had just sighed and sagged in his embrace, starting to run his fingers through Buck’s curls. They haven’t moved a single muscle since and Buck is willing to die in this position if it means he leaves this world listening to Eddie’s heart beating against his cheek.

So, this is what Buck really can’t wrap his head around. Being free to love Eddie openly and being loved by Eddie.

And the thing is, it isn’t weird. Or awkward, or anything someone might think their years of friendship would make this new relationship like. It is easy, natural. Buck used the word instinctive to describe it to Maddie when she asked him how they were faring.

Because loving Eddie is like breathing. Buck doesn't need to think about it. He isn’t questioning his every action—like he’d always done in his past relationships—for fear of being judged, or being left behind. Eddie makes it easy for him. And he really hopes he makes it easy for Eddie.

Buck shrugs in the hug, his shoulder starting to tickle and his arm going numb, but he regrets it immediately when Eddie lets go of him and moves to his side of the bed again, sitting up. He reaches out for Eddie, stroking his back, sliding his hand beneath his shirt to keep touching him.

“You want breakfast?” Eddie asks him over his shoulder, rubbing his eyes with both hands. Buck looks up at him and nods in his pillow, smiling fondly at his sleepy head and rough voice. He isn’t new to this version of Eddie. They slept together plenty even before they got into a relationship, but again, this is different.

Buck starfishes on the bed, pulling his muscles in a big stretch, and groaning out loud.

“Should I go wake Chris up?” He asks while getting up.

“Pretty sure you woke the whole neighbourhood just now with that,” Eddie snorts, making his way to the bathroom.

“Funny,” he deadpans, putting on a dirty pair of sweatpants he finds on the floor. He doesn’t particularly care if it is Eddie’s or his, it doesn’t matter anyway.

He goes to Chris’s bedroom and knocks on the door, waits a bit and when he gets no answer, he slowly opens it. The kid is sprawled on his bed with his neck bent in a position that can’t be comfortable, so Buck chuckles softly and walks to him, lifting his head to reposition it and gently stroking his hair off his face. Chris only grimaces in his sleep.

“Chris, buddy, we’re about to have breakfast. Join us?” he whispers.

Chris groans, turning to the other side. “I’ll be there in five.”

Buck squeezes his shoulder and leaves, leaving the door ajar.

Eddie is still in the bathroom, and he can hear the shower going, so he starts pulling out eggs and bacon, and the leftover batter for pancakes from the day before. He puts on some music, keeping the volume low, and gets himself to work.

He is flipping the bacon when Chris comes through the door and sits at the table, dropping his head on the surface with a loud thud. Buck chuckles and turns back to the stove.

“How late did you stay up to play video games with your friends?” He asks.

“You don’t wanna know,” comes Chris’s muffled answer.

“Okay,” Buck smiles knowingly, shaking his head. He isn’t gonna reprimand him for playing a little longer than what he is allowed to on school days. Weekends exist for a reason, and Buck has stayed up late with Chris himself on more than one occasion. “Can you help me set the table?”

Christopher grumbles, but still gets up and does as asked.

Buck is just putting down the third stack of pancakes when Eddie walks in the kitchen. He isn’t wearing a shirt, only a pair of baggy pyjama pants, and he is drying his hair with a towel, splashing water all over the floor.

“Hey!” Buck points the spatula at him, a silly smile on his lips, “I mopped the floors yesterday, go squish your fur somewhere else, you dog!”

Eddie looks up at him with glee in his eyes, lifting his hands in the air, “I’m done, I’m done.”

He doesn’t break eye contact as he drags the towel down his chest and Buck shakes his head, putting the eggs plate down, pretending he isn’t affected by his half naked boyfriend.

Chris doesn't wait a second before serving himself.

“Sit down,” Buck says, a smile still plastered to his face. He really can’t be mad at his partner when he is looking that good.

Eddie walks around the table and cups his jaw, pulling him down enough to place a light kiss on his lips and Buck is happy. His hands instantly go to Eddie’s waist, meeting warm, smooth skin. He is carefree and without a worry in the whole world as Eddie whispers, “Yes sir.”

They sit next to each other, their thighs flush together, their hands intertwined over the tablecloth, their love on display for anyone present.

And he is even happier when, while talking about how Celtic people in Ireland used to carve turnips and lighting them with embers before pumpkin carving was a thing, Eddie puts his hand on Buck’s neck, brushing his thumb on his nape, tangling his fingers in his hair.

“Can I go to Denny’s today?” Chris asks as they’re washing dishes.

Buck looks at Eddie and finds him already looking his way. He lifts a shoulder, they don’t really have any set plans, Buck actually only wants to rot in bed for a day, enjoying the company of his family. And his leg has been acting up all week, so a little rest would be nice.

Eddie nods then, turning to Chris. “Fine, but let me call Hen first, okay? I wanna make sure you’re not crashing their weekend.”

“We’re 15, you know. We can take care of ourselves.”

Eddie leans against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest. Nodding, he says, “I guess you’re driving yourself to Denny’s house then, since you’re so grown up now.”

Chris mutters something under his breath and Buck smiles.

He loves them.

“I didn’t say that, I only meant that–” Buck can’t hear him anymore as he moves to his room.

While he finishes tidying up the kitchen, Eddie calls their friends and once plans are made, Chris goes to get ready, ranting out loud about how good the new video game that has just come out is.

Eddie is leaning on his son’s bedroom door frame, now wearing a shirt, listening attentively to every word Christopher says. Buck feels a rush of fondness wash over him at the sight. He knows Eddie has always been like this, even before what had happened the year before, but he also can’t help but notice the extra effort he is putting in spending more time with Christopher. His kid leaving for Texas for months had hit him—them—pretty hard.

Eddie isn’t risking him leaving again, even if Buck doesn’t think there is any chance at this point.

As he passes them to go get ready himself, he brushes a hand down Eddie’s arm, who in turn puts his hand on Buck’s, making him stop. Buck kisses his shoulder, then his temple, and Eddie spins, looking for something more. Chris pretends to vomit as he exits his room to go to the living room.

They both laugh in their kiss, knowing perfectly well how not bothered he is by their public displays of affection. Chris has actually told Buck he loves how happy his dad seems to be since they got together, and Buck has cried about it in the shower later that day. Because Chris is right, Eddie does seem happier than ever lately.

And Buck isn’t gonna lie and make it as if he doesn’t know he has a huge hand in it, but he also isn’t going to take all the credit. The stars had finally aligned for Eddie at some point and the universe had screamed with all its might in his direction, and Eddie had listened and taken a huge leap of faith.

He is tying his shoes when Eddie walks into their room. “We’ll wait for you in the car.”

“Kay, but I’m driving.”

“No, I’m driving.”

Buck looks up confused, shaking his head. “Why?”

It isn’t that Buck doesn’t like Eddie’s driving, he just really, really likes being the one behind the wheel.

“‘Cause you’ve been favouring your left leg all morning, and I saw you during our last shift, limping like a sniper’s nightmare. I’d rather you didn’t put more strain on it than necessary.”

Buck leans back on his hands, curling his lips. He tries to reign in his body’s reaction to the word sniper, really forcing his mind to stay clear of that memory. A shiver still runs down his spine, and Buck clocks in Eddie’s reaction to it, a subtle shift in his expression, but he pays it no heed.

They stare at each other for a few beats, daring each other to say more.

“Why don’t I just stay back, closed up in the house, maybe with my leg propped on a couple of pillows, too? Oh, and you should also pull out my crutches while you’re at it.” He regrets it the moment the words leave his mouth.

Eddie sighs, rubbing his freshly shaved jaw. He looks at Buck for a few seconds more before diverting his eyes to the window.

“I’m still not letting you drive.”

Buck knows it’s not that serious and that he could easily let this go by letting Eddie drive and be done with it, but it pisses him off that the accident is still affecting his life after all these years. It is a daily reminder of his supposed fuck ups during that period of their lives and he doesn’t need it. He wants to have more control over his body and he talked about it in therapy, with Bobby and Eddie too—the way he sometimes feels like he is broken parts of a whole just badly glued back together. He doesn’t like the feeling. He doesn’t like the fact that it is so obvious that his boyfriend is calling him out on it.

He nods tersely, leaning down to tie his other shoe.

Buck really doesn’t wanna fight over this again, and they have. Plenty of times.

He can still see Eddie’s boots on the doorway and he sees the way he moves one step forward before sighing again, resigned, and leaves for the car.

The drive over to the Wilsons is silent for the most part, with Chris asking if he can sleep over at Denny’s. Eddie replies with an easy and short, “Next time.”

Their way back is tense and filled with unspoken apologies, but both Buck and Eddie find it hard to immediately get the words out to justify themselves. Every time they bicker—because this is not an actual fight, is it—Buck feels the sense of impending doom over them, as if he universally fucked up even more by standing up for what he believes are the right reasons.

He hates feeling like he can’t trust his own brain and Eddie is normally the last person to make him feel like it, but today is not his best day.

They’ve just pulled up to the house when Eddie stops him from getting out of the car with a hand on his leg. He squeezes his thigh until Buck looks at him and then Eddie is apologising for being too direct earlier, for assuming his pain level was too high for him to drive.

The truth is, Buck has overdone it during their last shift, and he is feeling like shit. And everything Eddie is saying is just making him feel more guilty.

He ends up apologising as well, trying to explain for the thousandth time why he reacted the way he did. And Eddie listens as if he hasn’t heard this same exact statement every single time. He knows Buck needs to go over the same stuff over again for it to truly stick sometimes.

They both know any other couple would brush the squabble away, let it die down and then pretend it never happened, but Buck isn’t like that and it would rot right under his skin and it would taint their every interaction until it became something way bigger than it is supposed to.

At the end of the day, Buck is glad to have someone next to him that understands his needs and limits to this extent, even when he isn’t willing to see what they are.

The rest of the morning is spent doing house chores with short breaks here and there whenever one of the two can’t keep his hands off the other.

They are laying on the couch together right before lunch when Eddie apologises again.

“I’m sorry, Buck, I…”

Buck closes his eyes, breathing through his nose and Eddie’s smell washes over him like a blanket. He wonders how long until their scents merge into one and, when getting into bed, he’ll smell their softener and not Eddie immediately. When he’ll have to really work to catch his boyfriend’s scent between all the others. Or how long until he can no longer smell anything when he enters this house because it’ll be his smell too.

When he reopens his eyes, Eddie is already looking at him, like most of the time these days.

“I already told you it’s okay,” Buck whispers, fingertips skimming Eddie’s eyebrows.

He is laying on his back, with Eddie sprawled over him, their legs knotted together beneath a blanket.

“I know, but you told me so many times how much you hate it when people tell you what you should or shouldn’t do and I–I did just that.”

Buck leans his head back, looking at the ceiling. He has said that multiple times, and Eddie has done just that, but it is also true that, “I tend to neglect myself, though. Don’t I?” He says with dreariness. “So yeah, you were wrong in doing it the way you did, but you were right in your assumption that I was not doing good. So, everything’s fine and I accept your apology. Now can you stop?”

Eddie snorts and nods against his chest. He lays down better, his face in the crook of Buck’s neck and his arm around his waist. With the low sound from whatever show they are watching, plus the comforting exhales of Eddie’s breathing, Buck falls asleep.

When he wakes up again, he is alone on the couch. The sun is low on the horizon and the golden hour is showering the living room in warm colours.

His groggy brain keeps him down for a bit longer as he adjusts to being awake and he is considering closing his eyes again just for a moment when he hears Eddie curse in the kitchen.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, why?”

Buck wonders if Eddie knows he is shit at whispering.

He slowly gets up and stumbles to the kitchen, running a hand down his face as he yawns.

“Baby, what–”

Eddie screams, and throws something right at him. Buck stops right in his tracks, catching the unidentified vegetable flying at light speed towards him, stunned.

Once Eddie realises its just him, he sighs in relief, leaning on the counter with both hands and hanging his head.

Buck looks down at the onion in his hands, then up at his boyfriend. “Did you really just throw an onion at me?”

“You scared the living shit out of me,” Eddie breathes, still not looking at him.

“Clearly,” he laughs.

And then he notices the bouquet of flowers on the table, right next to the pasta and sauce.

He points at the beautiful arrangement, an eyebrow raising. “What are those for?”

Eddie curses again and snatches the flowers away, hiding them behind his back. A few blue-sky petals fall to the floor.

“Nothing,” he says, avoidant. “What are you talking about?”

Buck smirks, licking his bottom lip and crossing his arms over his chest. With a hip propped against the chair, he studies his boyfriend, who is starting to blush a deep crimson.

“Really?”

Eddie takes a deep breath, nodding his head left and right.

“Eddie,” Buck incites.

“You were sleeping. And I was bored. And I didn’t want to wake you up. So I just went to get groceries,” he starts, finally looking him in the eyes. “And I saw these and I… I thought they were beautiful and I wanted to get them for you, but I started overthinking.”

Buck’s heart swells in his chest, but frowns at the doubt etched in Eddie’s expression.

“About what?”

“It’s stupid, really,” Eddie says, looking a lot like a lost puppy in dire need of help. Buck must give him a reassuring nod of some sorts, because he continues without any word. “When I was with my exes, the rules were easy. I knew what I could do and should do to make them feel appreciated and cared for, I guess.”

Buck gestures for him to go on.

Eddie looks pained now, like he doesn’t want to admit what he is about to say. He puts the flowers back down. “I started thinking about whether I should get you flowers because we’re two men. And I never got flowers from my exes, either, but I really wanted to get you some and I didn’t know if that was allowed.”

Buck wants to hold him for all the wrongs they did him. For the way they scarred him with the idea of love. So he walks around the table and slides his arms around his shoulders, leaning in to leave a soft peck on his lips. Their noses brush as Eddie lets go of a tense breath.

“I know it’s stupid.”

“It’s not, baby. It’s a lifelong list of misguided beliefs you’re trying to fight here,” he taps a finger on Eddie’s temple, “give yourself some credit.”

Eddie smiles sadly, tilting his head to Buck’s hand, seeking his touch.

“Well, I don’t know if this helps in any way, but,” Buck whispers against his cheek, brushing another kiss there. “I’m proud of you for getting them anyway.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie clears his throat.

Buck leans back, glancing at him, and for a second he wonders if his boyfriend stole the bouquet.

Eddie’s eyes dart all over his face before he looks away. “I’m not giving them to you, still.”

“Why?” He asks, confused as ever.

“‘Cause I remember that article you read to me a couple of weeks ago? About apology gifts and how bad they can be for relationships, and how it could lead to misunderstandings and similar. And this wasn’t an apology gift, but I still don’t want you to think it could be and—”

Buck's heart explodes at the words, at the emotions swirling in Eddie’s eyes. At the genuine worry, Buck would think Eddie could try and buy out his forgiveness. As if that isn’t a given.

And he can’t hold back. He kisses him roughly, his hands going to his hair and gripping tightly.

Eddie’s answering groan makes Buck’s knees buckle a little. His clutch tightens on Eddie as an immediate response and he opens his lips to welcome the kiss. Deeper, Buck tries to draw forward, but Eddie stands his ground so they don’t move, just smash their faces together, eliciting happy and bright laughs. And fuck, does he love him so much.

They slow the kiss to an unhurried pace that pricks at Buck’s need with dangerous charge. He wants more. Needs more. He needs Eddie’s hands all over his body. He needs him closer than ever.

He can feel Eddie’s muscles strain under his touch as his boyfriend moves against his body, hungry for the same thing.

“Let’s move this,” Buck says in between kisses, ”to the” another kiss, “bedroom.” Kiss.

Eddie shifts his attention to Buck’s jaw and when he starts nipping at the unshaven stubble there, Buck breaks away from the kiss. He places a hand on Eddie’s chest, feeling his wild heart.

He smiles at Buck, his lips shiny with their kiss, and he completely forgets about his plans.

His hand rubs the exposed skin of Eddie’s neck, tracing his pulse point like a steadying exercise. Their breathing merge, both ragged with desire.

“Eddie,” Buck begs, stepping forward, pressing his boyfriend’s body against the counter.

Their mouths clash again, their arousal tangible in the room. Buck just needs a fucking second to regroup his thoughts and then he’s gonna lead them to a bed. A couch. A shower. Anywhere but the room where they eat.

Buck stops when he feels Eddie’s lips curl into a smile, breaking the kiss definitely.

“The bedroom,” Eddie reminds him. His hand slips under his shirt, his nails dragging down his abs, eliciting goosebumps, his fingers slipping into Buck’s waistband as Eddie pulls at it. Buck’s chest collapses with arousal. He can’t take his eyes off Eddie.

Not thinking about it for a second more, Buck bends down and circles Eddie’s legs with his arms. His deep chuckle distracts Buck only enough for them to reach the hallway. He lifted him up with little to no effort, not really even noticing what he was doing. The way he was holding his boyfriend’s body. But his brain clearly isn’t wired the same way. His body isn’t either, if the slicing pain that goes through his leg is of any indication.

The weight of Eddie’s body on his right shoulder suddenly registers in his head. The way it dangles over him like—

Something wet splashes on his face and he tastes blood before anything else. The copper tang of it makes him halt. It makes him drop Eddie. Buck doesn’t notice the way he finds his footing again, his mind won’t let him focus on that.

He takes a step back, bringing his hands to his face and looking down at his fingers. Nothing. There’s nothing on his hands, they’re clean. But he can still taste it. Blood.

Eddie’s?

“Eddie,” Buck’s voice comes out strangled. Oh my god, he’s having a heart attack. He grabs his chest, feeling the prick of his fingers as they pinch his skin. He puts his fist to the wall, but his legs give out under him and he falls to the floor, his hands planting in front of him. Eddie’s hands are on his shoulders, he’s touching Buck, he sees it, but he can’t feel it. What he feels is the gravel on his palms and the thundering roar of an explosion, accompanied by the hot sisterly bite of the flames on his back.

He lifts his head frantically, turning his head back to see where the fire is, his instincts kicking in, but there’s no fire, there’s no explosion. He looks back at the love of his life and his heart is racing, beating out of his chest.

Maybe it’s the fear in his eyes, the pure, undiluted terror in Eddie’s stare as he looks for the threat in Buck’s. Or maybe it’s what he says next that sends Buck spiralling.

“Are you hurt?”

Fuck.

He hears gunshots.

Fuck.

His eyes are burning and his teeth feel like they’re about to fall out. They’re sand in his mouth.

And the realisation falls on him like an unstable wall of bricks. He’s under that truck again, his body pinned to the ground.

Not a heart attack then.

“Buck, what is it? Is it your leg?” Eddie is asking him, his eyes moving up and down his body assessing for injury. “Do I need to call 9-1-1?”

Buck sees him on the black road. He sees Eddie’s head falling into a puddle of his own blood. He hears Eddie’s scream as he pulls him under the truck.

He closes his eyes, pushes his fists into his eye sockets and falls back against the wall, shaking his head. Eddie is in front of him in an instant, cradling his face in his hands, brushing his cheekbones.

“Talk to me, what’s going on?” Eddie sounds desperate, his hard gaze holding Buck’s. He’s wrestling to gain focus, to keep the panic at bay.

He feels like he's dying.

He knows what’s going on. He’s had these before.

He simply didn’t think he was going to have one so far from that day.

“Evan."

The name shocks him into the present.

The person who says it with such strong emotion, with such love. Eddie is tethering him to reality. Nobody in his life had ever used that name with such fondness, apart from Maddie.

Eddie.

He gains a split second of clarity.

“I’m having—” It feels like swallowing wet cotton as he tries to get the words out. “—I’m having a panic attack.”

Eddie seems taken aback by that information, but moves immediately to get up. Buck has no idea where he’s going until he comes back with a bottle of something brownish in his hand. He drops down in front of him again and puts a hand on Buck’s knee.

“Here. Sniff this.” Eddie orders him, uncapping the bottle and placing it under his nose. Buck takes a deep breath. “Can you smell that?”

He shakes his head, tightening his fists at his sides. “Not one bit.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, visibly distressed now, looking around the hallway as if the solution will suddenly appear at their front door. “Okay. Baby? I’m here. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

And Buck likes the reassurance, he needs it. But it looks like Eddie also does, and he wishes he could do more to ease the dread in his expression.

Eddie gets up again, and Buck feels his eyes water. Fucking hell. He reaches out his hand and Eddie swerves back to him, taking hold of it and squeezing his fingers tight, locking eyes with him. He’s just a blurred silhouette of his love right now.

“I’m coming back. I need to get ice, Buck. I need to help you.”

He knows it. He understands what’s going on and where he is. Rationally, he knows they’re safe. Rationally, he knows there’s no sniper. But his mind’s playing tricks on him. And he’s scared.

“Buck…”

He lets go of Eddie and his boyfriend doesn’t wait a second before rushing to the kitchen and coming back with the necessary. Buck blinks as his chest seizes his lungs in a vice grip. He blinks again and Eddie’s on the floor as he’s trying to break in the packages, but Buck needs to touch him so he gets hold of his hand one more time and now he’s not letting go. Eddie looks at him and the world seems a little bit brighter, a little less heavy, so Buck takes a sudden breath in.

“Like that, but slower now. Can you do that for me?” Eddie nods as he asks, placing one of the ice packs on his chest. Buck gasps and jerks abruptly, hitting the back of his head against the wall. Eddie grimaces and follows, closing in his space, their knees knocking as he puts a hand on Buck’s nape, massaging the pain away. “I know it’s cold. I’m glad you can feel it.”

He gives a tentative smile and breathes through his nose.

“I’m gonna put another on your neck, okay?”

Buck nods, his sight fogging with tears.

Because Eddie is alive. He’s not been shot. He’s sitting in front of him.

The piercing cold of the ice being positioned on his neck settles him some more and he’s able to gulp down more air. Less crazed now, he feels and hears and sees everything around him.

Buck bends his head and brings a hand to Eddie’s one on his chest, over the ice pack.

He feels Eddie’s fingers trembling.

And then he hears his torn breathing.

He looks up at Eddie and he’s surprised to see his eyes framed with tears.

He can’t help but bring his hand to Eddie’s cheek.

“Are you okay?” Buck asks.

Eddie nods firmly, before shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know you’re in the middle of a panic attack, I just…”

They stare at each other, both taking a deep breath. Reminding the other that they're fine, they're alive.

“I just thought you’d hurt your leg while lifting me up. I’m okay, I’m just high on adrenaline now.”

Buck calms down a bit at that and nods. “I understand. I’m sorry.”

Eddie shakes his head again. “Don’t apologise.”

“Then you don’t either.”

They glare with tough eyes and then smile between tears.

“We’re so messy.” Buck chuckles, sniffing.

“I like messy,” Eddie replies, swiping his thumb over the side of his neck.

Buck closes his eyes, breathing deeply in through his nostrils and exhaling through his mouth.

They keep reassuring each other everything's fine, things are slowly subduing and going back to normalcy in between a caress and an “ I love you. ”

They fall quiet for a while, the silence is deafening for minutes before the fateful question.

“What happened there, Buck?” Eddie asks, his voice barely audible, looking for his gaze. Buck licks his lips. They’re so dry. “One moment you were King Konging me to the bedroom and the next you were dropping me on the floor.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Buck winces.

“No apologies, I told you,” Eddie reprimands him. He shifts the ice on his heart, pushing gently. “I’m just trying to understand what triggered you.”

And Buck really doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to put this on Eddie. Eddie doesn’t need it.

“Buck.”

“It was your weight,” Buck concedes, without quite enough guts to face him while he confesses. “I–I know you don't remember anything about that day. I know you don't and I'm so glad. Fuck, I really am.”

Eddie seems even more at a loss.

“My- my weight?”

“The day you were shot. I was the one who got you in the truck.”

Understanding breaks through Eddie's confusion and it's like Buck physically hit him, because he falls back on his ass, his hands sliding down Buck's body, but still touching, still feeling.

Eddie gapes, his mouth forming words that won't come out, and Buck feels the cold clutch of guilt taking his heart.

He opens his mouth, hesitant to go on.

“I wish I didn't remember either,” he admits, anguish clogging his throat. Something flashes over Eddie's features and for the first time ever since they've become best friends, Buck can't pinpoint what it is. “I wish I could forget. But I remember every single moment of that day. I remember every second where I thought I was gonna lose you.”

Eddie finally takes the ice packs off his clammy skin and inches closer, taking hold of both his hands. He stares at Buck for what feels like an eternity, racked with pain, before launching himself at him and hugging him.

Buck breathes out in relief, closing his eyes, burrowing his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck. This is it. This is home for Buck. Nowhere else.

“I’m here. I’m alive.”

Eddie brings a hand to the back of Buck’s head and pushes him closer, as if wanting to absorb him into him. Buck understands the feeling. He wishes he could live inside of him.

Not really healthy-relationship-without-codependent-decencies of them. But he’s not really in the mindset to judge right now.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie sobs, his chest shuddering sharply. “I’m sorry, I wish I could take it from you.”

Buck shakes his head, holding on tighter than ever, clawing at his shirt.

“We said no apologies,” he whispers. He passes a hand down Eddie’s back, caressing his boyfriend, reminding himself that he’s unharmed. He’s not bleeding out in his arms. They’re in their house and everything’s fine.

Everything is fine.

“You have your own burden to carry. I was serious when I said I’m glad you don’t remember. I would never want you to take it from me.” Buck wouldn’t wish this nightmare on his worst enemy, but he keeps that last tad bit for himself. It wouldn’t help Eddie in any way, knowing how much it still haunts Buck.

There's a pregnant pause, and he still can't single out what seems off with his boyfriend. That is, apart from whatever is going down right now.

“Will you,” Eddie tries speaking, clearing his throat when his voice comes out scratchy, “will you tell me about it?”

It's Buck's turn to hesitate and Eddie must feel it, because he’s quick to reassure him it’s not necessary, that the question was stupid, that he doesn’t need it in the first place. They’re still holding onto each other.

“I will,” Buck concedes, his words muffled against Eddie’s neck, “but not today.”

“Can I do anything to help you right now?”

Buck thinks about it, and he squeezes his arms around Eddie.

“Will you lay on top of me? Like, with your whole body.” He feels his cheeks warm and he chastises himself for feeling embarrassment in front of his best friend. “It’s- I read that having something weighted on your chest might help relieve anxiety. I think it’s called pressure therapy? Or something like that.”

“You’re telling me you’ve been using me this entire time as your very own weighted blanket?” Eddie chuckles lightly, but Buck hears the twinge of concern in the sound, anyway. When he parts from the hug, he’s studying Buck’s face with intent.

Buck goes on, “I know that the pressure of it puts your autonomic nervous system into “rest” mode, slowing your heart rate or breathing. It can provide an overall sense of calm. It… it also helps with ADHD. It usually does.” His face warms up even more at this tiny truth he admits. “We can try.”

There’s such adoration in Eddie’s eyes that Buck feels like crying all over again.

“Are you sure that won’t trigger another attack?”

Buck shakes his head, his eyes fleeting to the bathroom door. “I think I just need to feel you… to feel your heartbeat.” He tilts his chin down, running a hand through his curls, mumbling in his shirt, “Sorry, that was cheesy as fuck.”

Eddie swipes his thumb over his jaw, angling his head just right to kiss him softly.

“I like cheesy. I love you.”

Buck smiles, but he couldn’t be more serious when he says, “I love you, too.”

He shifts forward, catching Eddie’s lips in his again, deepening the kiss. He tastes like sugar.

They get up slowly, Buck carefully paying attention to not lean too much on his fucked up leg. Eddie takes hold of his hands again, squeezing and releasing a couple of times when he notices them shaking. He brings them to his mouth and kisses each knuckle with love.

They walk to their room in silence and Buck lies on his back on the soft mattress, ever so casually. He feels like he’s carrying around a ton of lead, it hangs heavy from his head. It roots him to the floor.

It’s not even a second later that the comfortable and familiar weight of Eddie’s body comes on top of him. It doesn’t prompt any immediate uneasy memory, so when he takes a deep breath and Eddie settles over him and lets himself go, Buck welcomes it. He wraps his arms around his reason for breathing and he lets himself be loved.

“Are you okay?”

The words barely a whisper over his screaming mind, but the sound still breaks through the chaos.

“I’m gonna be.”

Because he has Eddie.

And it feels fine.

It feels good.

He doesn’t feel like dying.

So he doesn’t. He lives.

He tries for the heart beating against his.

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

#buddie #buddie 9-1-1 #eddie diaz #evan “buck” buckley #angst #domestic fluff #panic attacks #hurt/comfort #9-1-1 on abc

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steddieunderdogfics · 1 year ago

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @stevesno1simp/trans_steve_truther ! trans_steve_truther has 28 fics in the Stranger Things fandom with 27 of them in the Steddie tag!

@autisticsteddie recommends the following works by @stevesno1simp:

Self Love and Other Musings

Made to Be Yours

Summer Sugar, Saccharine and Sweet

Fatefully Mine

Cover Worthy

"His fics are really good and seriously underrated! I love how he depicts transmasc and chubby Steve." -- @autisticsteddie

Below the cut, @stevesno1simp answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I love both of the characters and their dynamic together! It’s a big comfort for me and also a lot of fun.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Omegaverse! I love how the lore varies from author to author. I especially love Alpha!Eddie and Omega!Steve.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Established relationship and dom/sub dynamics! I love diving into the story with Steddie already being together and in love, and writing Eddie as a soft dom and Steve as a sub.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I would have to say “Found a Different Buzz” by Emchanted!

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’m planning on writing a post-apocalyptic fic at some point, so I’m excited about that. Post-apocalyptic movies, shows and books are some of my favorites.

What is your writing process like?

I usually have a vague idea of what I’d like to write, so write what feels right and don’t try to force it. I find that writing what comes to me without worrying about chapter and word count allows for my best work.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I generally don’t write detailed outlines! Which I know some people see as taboo, but it honestly stresses me out. It’s a quirk I picked up in my college English classes (I have an English degree) when I was constantly going back and expanding and adding more to my writing that’s stuck with me.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I usually prefer to post when I’ve finished writing, unless it’s for an event and I have a specific schedule.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Definitely “Fatefully Mine.” I’m really happy with the characterization of Steve and Eddie, and how Steve learns to embrace his omega qualities with Eddie’s coaxing.

How did you get the idea for Fatefully Mine?

I wrote it for the Steddie Omegaverse VDay Exchange, so I was given some tags and tropes that my giftee would like to see and went from there. They wanted monster!Eddie to be included, so I decided to go with a more werewolf-type monster than a vampire, and that really shaped the rest of the fic.

When writing Fatefully Mine, what was something you didn’t expect?

I really didn’t expect to give Steve so many cat-like qualities, as most omegaverse fics I’ve read more lean into the wolf/dog aspects. But I found that I really liked omegas having a desire to knead their nests and mates wanting to groom each other.

What inspired Self Love and Other Musings?

This fic is very personal to me, as I really projected myself onto Steve in how he sees and relates to his body as a chubby trans man. Gaining weight and being on the bigger side since starting hrt has really helped lessen my dysphoria.

What was your favorite part to write from Cover Worthy?

My favorite part to write was Steve and Eddie’s interaction when Eddie first arrives at Steve’s apartment. I loved writing Steve’s awkwardness and inexperience compared to Eddie’s suave confidence.

How do/did you feel writing Made to Be Yours?

I felt a little nervous writing it, as it was my second-ever attempt at writing omegaverse, and I was tackling transness in that universe as well. I explored Steve being a trans male omega, so transitioning in his primary, but not secondary gender, and I wasn’t sure how/if that would be understood by readers.

What was the most difficult part of writing Summer Sugar, Saccharine and Sweet?

I’d say the most difficult part was portraying just how obsessed Eddie is with Steve and how in love he is with every part of him. Finding the exact words to describe how Eddie sees Steve took me a while before I was happy with it.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

My favorite scene from one of my fics has to be when Eddie realizes Steve feels so safe and happy that he’s kneading the bed and letting out happy omega pheromones. It’s just so sweet, and I love omega!Steve so much. The gentle motion of the mattress made Eddie pause, and he glanced over the top of Steve’s head to see what he was doing. The alpha’s eyes widened and the soft sting of tears tingled near the corners at the sight of his omega kneading at the soft blankets covering the bed. His love had even pulled the collar of his T-shirt into his mouth, which he suckled on like a teet. In all the time Eddie had known Steve, he had never even heard him purr, let alone chirp or knead. “Sweet omega,” Eddie murmured, petting gently at the soft skin of Steve’s love handle where it was peeking out from between his shirt and sleep pants. He was mindful of his claws, taking care to not scratch too deeply to draw blood.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Keep an eye out for my upcoming post-apocalypse fic and a sequel to “Fatefully Mine!”

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I really love portraying Steve as chubby is a fandom that seems to gravitate away from plus sized characters. Steve is often portrayed as a ripped jock, when in the show, he has a bit of pudge on his belly. I’m really glad that I can add some more chubby representation to the fandom!

Thank you to our author, trans_steve_truther, and our nominator, @autisticsteddie! See more of trans_steve_truther's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday #ao3 writer #steddie writers #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things

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krauseandrickmanfan · 4 months ago

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Can I ask your thoughts on the plots lately? I love the show but I wish we spent more time on developing characters and relationships but it feels like every single episode is a huge emergency where they take turns giving each character almost-death experiences instead of developing interesting story lines. And I wish we went back to more character-driven story instead of drama/near-tragedy every episode. It feels like we are jumping the shark as far as believability/watchability just because each episode is a character being stabbed/taken hostage/going into a coma and I feel like it undermines the show to keep having these big treating events just to have everything be a-okay immediately afterwards so we can jump into the next character having a traumatic near death experience. I just want to know if I’m the only one that feels that way or if others are fatigued by the plot style this season too because I still love the show and characters but the plots feel so reliant on huge emergencies every episode without any real long lasting consequences which in turn undercuts the feel of each new event because we know the writers will just abandon it for the next thing each episode. I did love Eddies storyline tonight, but I don’t think Hen needed to be taken hostage for her story to be interesting or to make the point it did. Before that happened I found the episode interesting and more character driven than it’s felt in a while especially with the side character she bonded with. What is your opinion? Am I over analyzing this with my criticism of things?

Hi anon. Thank you for your question i I don't speak for everyone here, and i'm probably a little bit partial too, but my experience with the latest 2 seasons is way better than with seasons 5 and 6.

Idk if this is more of ABC showing their game (or trying iy), but i particularly don't dislike or think it undermine the show to try rise their stakes when they can, specially considering how hard it is to maintain the viewership steady nowadays, and how picky and floating their audience is.

Their audience does have a big duality in terms of perspective from what i've seen. There is a big part that wants to see more emergency focus and less character drama "because it's becoming a soap opera at this point". There is also the part that wants more character driven plot, which i assume is your case. That is valid, even more because i think this also does depends a lot ony our taste when consuming some media. For example, I do like these high standard emergencies, because i do like the drama involved, i grew up watching procedurals so i'm familiar with that type of media, and i have the plust of being confortable enough to not fear them dying (hopefully it stays that way)

Like i particularly didn't mind the hostage situation, and it didn't affect the way i did see Hen's plot. Because tbh i thought if i were to find a problem in the plot would be on the absurdity over everyone forgetting her birthday considering how codependent these folks are to one another asjdfhg. The bus situation felt more like done parallel Hen. Where they're constrating what two different people deal when feeling that way, and i'm not disappointed over them showing how much a person can take before it ends up being too much and she acts recklessly. I actually kinda related with Archie in some aspects and i think that as the intention. Maybe i'm the one reading to much on this btw ksdjfg

I think they do have plenty of character driven plots, however, mix that with picky audience and pacing/continuinity problems and you a not so great result. In S8A when they tried to do something silly and fun with the hotshot thing, people just hated because it simply didn't catter to their interest. They're doing this with Eddie rn although the reasons are different, many people are liking, meawhile i'm not really interested. See my point here,: about what catters to the audience: I not saying Eddie's plot is bad, far from that, it's beeing one of the most consistent point's in the season, however it doesn't personally catters to me.

In terms of character drama, we literally just seen Buck spiraling over Eddie leaving, before that Bobby was still facing the consequences of his own attempt to retire and Hen was dealing with council woman who got a grudge on her, before that Buck was dealing with his sexuality. Chimney and Mandney dealing with the consequences of her PPD, Buck becoming a baby donor.

To conclude this rant, i personally think there is not lack of character driven drama. What the show lacks is good pacing to keep the balance that and continuinity. And tbh i don't think it will get any better in the future, they will have their hits and miss moments, and we will have to handle the way we can.

Once again, thanks, and I hope any of this made sense to answer your questions.

#i911 spoilers #911 abc #answered #bobby nash #evan buckley #hen wilson #eddie diaz

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queers-gambit · 6 months ago

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Hi, long time follower and long time lover of your fics! Like, seriously, you write for almost all of my fictional crushes and it's so perfect I found your blog.

I was just wondering, as I'm reading, you put a lot of detail into somethings. Are these personal add-ins?

Like, you for Eddie Munson, you have the stoner thing down pat which is really cool cause, no offense to anyone else, but I don't see a lot of authors getting certain details or vernacular correct. You make mention in a Tangerine fic being an equestrian and how when (excuse my vulgarity) riding dick, it came back like muscle memory. And don't get me started on your fic about a chronically ill reader and Carmy. Holy SHIT did you hit the nail on the head with that one, and yes I know not all disabilities are the same, but you really captured some of the more gritty and emotional aspects of it.

I'm just curious because I saw an interview with Paul Mescal where he said for each character he plays, he puts a little bit of "him" in it but audiences don't know *which* part of him it is and where. As I read your fics, I just can't stop thinking about that, how it feels like you embed little parts of yourself in your writing and it makes it feel that much homier. That much more real and relatable.

Sorry for rambling, I just really love your work. And I saw you answer another ask about writing your own fantasy series and oh wow - please please please do! I'd love to read it! I just think you're a very talented writer and again, happy I found your blog! 🤍

sweetheart, i love rambling messages so don't you (or anyone) ever apologize for that. not to me.

i'm so happy you found me, too. and i'm so happy i can provide any amount of entertainment to anyone! thank you so very kindly for your compliments, they mean the world to me. and about your muses - real recognizes real.

you're a doll, you know that? yes, those are all personal add-ins.

i believe in realism, right? so, i like adding in bits and pieces here and there about real experiences, real emotions, encounters, situations, reactions, etc.

that's really cool you noticed all of that 'cause those are pretty solid examples; like, i smoke a lot (do as i say not as i do: don't fucking smoke, it's horrible) and i both dated and lived with a procurer of illicit material (two different ones) so i was able to draw from those real experiences and spin it into my writing. my daddy grew up on a farm, he and all his siblings grew up horseback riding; so he got his kids into it, but it only stuck with me but i had to eventually quit due to gnarly injury. so i like to throw those little nods in too for my fellow equestrians because i miss that part of me - though it'll never die. and i've been diagnosed chronically ill for ten+ years now and only just recently has it been officially recognized (not universally, though) as a disability. however, it's still invisible at times. so i got HELLA experience in that arena; with the pain, with good and bad days, with lost relationships, how one day you look "normal" and the next, you're getting sent home from work because of how sickly you now appear; the harrowing loneliness, the imposter syndrome of not being WORTH treatment, the way people stare at you for the audacity to be / look different - and then the way people glare when you don't look like their imagined definition of "disabled", so i also know all about the way people sneer you must be lying.

what a fascinating relation; how Mr. Mescal lets bits of himself bleed into characters he plays, because that's exactly what i do. there's other little personal easter eggs through my writing that all stem from some kind of personal experience or emotion. see, i use this blog sometimes for therapy; where i can write my emotions and get them out of me, away, expelled because i refuse to let them take space in my head, heart, and soul.

"how it feels like you embed little parts of yourself in your writing and it makes it feel that much homier. That much more real and relatable." my heart is so fucking full, this is what authors strive for; for the audience to connect with the writing, with the story and details. to be seen, felt, heard, and appreciated as their souls go into writing. ah, welcome home, poppet. i'm happy you're here.

thank you for noticing. thank you for allowing me space to write and grieve and process. thank you for seeing me.

come back to ramble anytime. you're always welcome here!

👀 we'll see if i can get this novel idea off the ground! you never know, i might even announce something here in the future! but for now, i've got my silly little fics.

happy reading! all my love i can possibly muster 🖤

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3rddimension · 2 years ago

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I'll be completely honest, sometimes I have the same thought as the previous anon. Them still going through the effort to conceal it confuses me too sometimes. I know that they are against a "public" relationship because of the unnecessary pressure and opinions, but also, I don't traditionally consider just knowing that people are in a relationship as being all that "public".

Think of ANY figure you know who is in a relationship, and while we get occasional photos, appreciation posts, or a one-off video together, they don't share any intimate details about their day-to-day relationship, so fans have nothing to really attach themselves to and speculate about. Anthony, Amanda, Kimmy, Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, Eddy Burback, Ted Nivison, Jacksfilms, Alanah Pearce, James and Elyse Willems... those are just off the top of my head, but there's COUNTLESS people who are just okay with the world knowing.

So I'm always thinking, like, why are S and C so different in that regard?

I get that there might be some strange speculation and parasocial creeps, but like... S and C get that ANYWAYS, so how does that change by making it public knowledge at the bare minimum? I'm sure other creators also get weirdos in DMs, especially women (I def know Alanah Pearce gets weird comments on her relationship). But for S and C, the weirdos who wanted to find out (me, I am weirdos, lol) already found out, and they learned to tune out weirdos in all other aspects, so... I don't get why they don't just rip the band-aid.

But I know there's also another angle to it. The nature of S and C's job is very parasocial at its core. They had entire series on Pit diving into their dating lives and went into otherwise pretty imtimate details. Even beyond dating lives, they've had to share a TON of info about their lives simply for content. I think they both are ones to deeply appreciate keeping some things to themselves for that reason. And if their relationship is one of those things, then that's totally cool.

There's also some other less-expected reasons they might keep it private.

It's just a fact in the industry that women and fem-presenting influencers who *appear* single get more attention and followers. If people knew C wasn't single, she would probably lose male followers on IG instantly. How MUCH she would lose is debateable, but... that's a very real problem they might consider.

Another reason is C stated they've dealt with a stalker before, which got to the point of legal action, and that's a very traumatic experience. Not trying to upset any of her aggressively creepy fans can also be a good reason.

C might also want to conceal it because she very outwardly promotes her bi/pan identity, so she might want to avoid any snide remarks about her being in a "straight relationship". Yes, bi-exclusionary gay people are still out there and are still very annoying.

C might just not want any speculation about her role and successes at Smosh being attributed to her relationship with S. She's a very talented and dedicated performer, writer, and director, and she would probably prefer to keep that attributed to her and NOT her relationship.

At the end of the day, you're right, they have no obligation. However unnecessary we might think it is, or however different they might think they are from every other online creator who we know is in a relationship, it's their choice and we should always respect that.

So good for you to mentioned Alanah. She just posted one of the comment on her IG stories that's pretty much in line with what you said. It's related with her BF (Rahul Kohli) that just met up for a dinner with Mark Hamil who's costar with him in a movie.

As you can see she's pretty chill from this kind of comment and even post some occasionally. But this definitely different from people to people for sure. I'm sure Court and Shayne can handle it but maybe this is one of the reason why they're still effort to be private.

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7r0773r · 2 years ago

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The Outermost House: A Year of Life on the Great Beach of Cape Cod by Henry Beston

The world to-day is sick to its thin blood for lack of elemental things, for fire before the hands, for water welling from the earth, for air, for the dear earth itself underfoot. In my world of beach and dune these elemental presences lived and had their being, and under their arch there moved an incomparable pageant of nature and the year. The flux and reflux of ocean, the incomings of waves, the gatherings of birds, the pilgrimages of the peoples of the sea, winter and storm, the splendour of autumn and the holiness of spring all these were part of the great beach. The longer I stayed, the more eager was I to know this coast and to share its mysterious and elemental life; I found myself free to do so, I had no fear of being alone, I had something of a field naturalist's inclination; presently I made up my mind to remain and try living for a year on Eastham Beach.(p. 10)

***

The sand here has a life of its own, even if it is only a life borrowed from the wind. One pleasant summer afternoon, while a high, gusty westerly was blowing, I saw a little "wind devil," a miniature tornado six feet high, rush at full speed out of a cut, whirl itself full of sand upon the beach, and spin off breakerward. As it crossed the beach, the "devil" caught the sun, and there burst out of the sand smoke a brownish prism of burning, spinning, and fantastic colour. South of me, the dune I call "big dune" now and then goes through a curious performance. Seen lengthwise, the giant has the shape of a wave, its slope to the beach being a magnificent fan of purest wind-blown sand, its westward slope a descent to a sandy amphitheatre. During a recent winter, a coast guard key post was erected on the peak of the dune; the feet of the night patrols trod down and nicked the crest, and presently this insignificant notch began to "work" and deepen. It is now eight or nine feet wide and as many deep. From across the marshes, it might be a kind of great, roundish bite out of the crest. On windy autumn days, when the sand is still dry and alive, and westerly gusts and currents take on a genuine violence, the loose sand behind the dune is whirled up by the wind and poured eastward through this funnel. At such times the peak "smokes" like a volcano. The smoke is now a streaming blackish plume, now a thin old-ivory wraith, and it billows, eddies, and pours out as from a sea Vesuvius. (pp. 14-15)

***

No aspect of nature on this beach is more mysterious to me than the flights of these shorebird constellations. The constellation forms, as I have hinted, in an instant of time, and in that same instant develops its own will. Birds which have been feeding yards away from each other, each one individually busy for his individual body's sake, suddenly fuse into this new volition and, flying, rise as one, coast as one, tilt their dozen bodies as one, and as one wheel off on the course which the new group will has determined. There is no such thing, I may add, as a lead bird or guide. Had I more space I should like nothing better than to discuss this new will and its instant or origin, but I do not want to crowd this part of my chapter, and must therefore leave the problem to all who study the psychic relations between the individual and a surrounding many. My special interest is rather the instant and synchronous obedience of each speeding body to the new volition. By what means, by what methods of communication does this will so suffuse the living constellation that its dozen or more tiny brains know it and obey it in such an instancy of time? Are we to believe that these birds, all of them, are machina, as Descartes long ago insisted, mere mechanisms of flesh and bone so exquisitely alike that each cogwheel brain, encountering the same environmental forces, synchronously lets slip the same mechanic ratchet? or is there some psychic relation between these creatures? Does some current flow through them and between them as they fly? Schools of fish, I am told, make similar mass changes of direction. I saw such a thing once, but of that more anon.

We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature, and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth. (pp. 23-25)

***

The three great elemental sounds in nature are the sound of rain, the sound of wind in a primeval wood, and the sound of outer ocean on a beach. I have heard them all, and of the three elemental voices, that of ocean is the most awesome, beautiful, and varied. For it is a mistake to talk of the monotone of ocean or of the monotonous nature of its sound. The sea has many voices. Listen to the surf, really lend it your ears, and you will hear in it a world of sounds: hollow boomings and heavy roarings, great watery tumblings and tramplings, long hissing seethes, sharp, rifle-shot reports, splashes, whispers, the grinding undertone of stones, and sometimes vocal sounds that might be the half-heard talk of people in the sea. And not only is the great sound varied in the manner of its making, it is also constantly changing its tempo, its pitch, its accent, and its rhythm, being now loud and thundering, now almost placid, now furious, now grave and solemn-slow, now a simple measure, now a rhythm monstrous with a sense of purpose and elemental will.

Every mood of the wind, every change in the day's weather, every phase of the tide—all these have subtle sea musics all their own. Surf of the ebb, for instance, is one music, surf of the flood another, the change in the two musics being most clearly marked during the first hour of a rising tide. With the renewal of the tidal energy, the sound of the surf grows louder, the fury of battle returns to it as it turns again on the land, and beat and sound change with the renewal of the war.

Sound of surf in these autumnal dunes—the continuousness of it, sound of endless charging, endless incoming and gathering, endless fulfilment and dissolution, endless fecundity, and endless death. I have been trying to study out the mechanics of that mighty resonance. The dominant note is the great spilling crash made by each arriving wave. It may be hollow and booming, it may be heavy and churning, it may be a tumbling roar. The second fundamental sound is the wild seething cataract roar of the wave's dissolution and the rush of its foaming waters up the beach—this second sound diminuendo. The third fundamental sound is the endless dissolving hiss of the inmost slides of foam. The first two sounds reach the ear as a unisonance—the booming impact of the tons of water and the wild roar of the up-rush blending—and this mingled sound dissolves into the foam-bubble hissing of the third. Above the tumult, like birds, fly wisps of watery noise, splashes and counter splashes, whispers, seethings, slaps, and chucklings. An overtone sound of other breakers, mingled with a general rumbling, fells earth and sea and air. (pp. 43-45)

***

A year indoors is a journey along a paper calendar; a year in outer nature is the accomplishment of a tremendous ritual. To share in it, one must have a knowledge of the pilgrimages of the sun, and something of that natural sense of him and feeling for him which made even the most primitive people mark the summer limits of his advance and the last December ebb of his decline. All these autumn weeks I have watched the great disk going south along the horizon of moorlands beyond the marsh, now sinking behind this field, now behind this leafless tree, now behind this sedgy hillock dappled with thin snow. We lose a great deal, I think, when we lose this sense and feeling for the sun. When all has been said, the adventure of the sun is the great natural drama by which we live, and not to have joy in it and awe of it, not to share in it, is to close a dull door on nature's sustaining and poetic spirit. (pp. 59-60)

***

The sun, this December morning, has come to the end of his southern journey, he climbs the whitish sky to the south over the white fury of the Orleans shoals, and takes on a silvery quality from the pallor of the sky. On such a morning went ancient peoples to their hills, and cried to the pale god to return to their woods and fields; perhaps the vanished Nausets danced a ceremonial dance on those inland moors, and the same northwest wind carried the measured drumming to these dunes. A morning to go out upon the dunes and study the work of winter. Between the cold blue of the sea and the levels of the marshes, the long wall of the dunes lies blanched to a whiter pallor than the surrounding landscape, for there is no russet and but little gold in dune grass when it dies. That intricacy of green, full-fleshed life, which billowed like wild wheat in the summer's southwest wind, has thinned away now to a sparse world of separate heads, each one holding, as in a fist, a clump of whitish and mildewed wires. (pp. 62-63)

***

A second notion, too, came into my head as I saw the turnstones fly away—that no one really knows a bird until he has seen it in flight. Since my year upon the dunes, spent in a world of magnificent fliers, I have been tempted to believe that the relation of the living bird with its wings folded to the living bird in flight is almost that of the living bird to the same bird stuffed. In certain cases, the difference between the bird on the wing and the bird at rest is so great that one might be watching two different creatures. Not only do colours and new arrangements of colours appear in flight, there is also a revelation of personality. Study your birds on the ground as you will, but once you have thus observed them and studied their loveliness, do not be afraid to clap your hands and send them off into the air. They will take no real alarm and will soon forgive you. Watch birds flying. (pp. 97-98)

***

Our fantastic civilization has fallen out of touch with many aspects of nature, and with none more completely than with night. Primitive folk, gathered at a cave mouth round a fire, do not fear night; they fear, rather, the energies and creatures to whom night gives power; we of the age of the machines, having delivered ourselves of nocturnal enemies, now have a dislike of night itself. With lights and ever more lights, we drive the holiness and beauty of night back to the forests and the sea; the little villages, the crossroads even, will have none of it. Are modern folk, perhaps, afraid of night? Do they fear that vast serenity, the mystery of infinite space, the austerity of stars? Having made themselves at home in a civilization obsessed with power, which explains its whole world in terms of energy, do they fear at night for their dull acquiescence and the pattern of their beliefs? Be the answer what it will, to-day's civilization is full of people who have not the slightest notion of the character or the poetry of night, who have never even seen night. Yet to live thus, to know only artificial night, is as absurd and evil as to know only artificial day. (pp. 165-66)

***

Learn to reverence night and to put away the vulgar fear of it, for, with the banishment of night from the experience of man, there vanishes as well a religious emotion, a poetic mood, which gives depth to the adventure of humanity. By day, space is one with the earth and with man—it is his sun that is shining, his clouds that are floating past; at night, space is his no more. When the great earth, abandoning day, rolls up the deeps of the heavens and the universe, a new door opens for the human spirit, and there are few so clownish that some awareness of the mystery of being does not touch them as they gaze. For a moment of night we have a glimpse of ourselves and of our world islanded in its stream of stars—pilgrims of mortality, voyaging between horizons across eternal seas of space and time. Fugitive though the instant be, the spirit of man is, during it, ennobled by a genuine moment of emotional dignity, and poetry makes its own both the human spirit and experience. (pp. 173-74)

***

My lonely world, full of lightning and rain, was strange to look upon. I do not share the usual fear of lightning, but that night there came over me, for the first and last time of all my solitary year, a sense of isolation and remoteness from my kind. I remember that I stood up, watching, in the middle of the room. On the great marshes the lightning surfaced the winding channels with a metallic splendour and arrest of motion, all very strange through windows blurred by rain. Under the violences of light the great dunes took on a kind of elemental passivity, the quiet of earth enchanted into stone, and as I watched them appear and plunge back into a darkness that had an intensity of its own I felt, as never before, a sense of the vast time, of the thousands of cyclic and uncounted years which had passed since these giants had risen from the dark ocean at their feet and given themselves to the wind and the bright day. (p. 184)

***

The quality of life, which in the ardour of spring was personal and sexual, becomes social in midsummer. Stirred by the vernal fire, a group psychically dissolves, for every creature in a flock is intent upon the use and the offering of his own awakened flesh. Even creatures who are of the flocking or herding habit emerge as individuals. With the rearing of the young, and their integration into the reëstablished group, life becomes again a social rhythm. The body has been given and sacrificially broken, its own gods and all gods obeyed. (pp. 211-12)

***

During the months that have passed since that September morning some have asked me what understanding of Nature one shapes from so strange a year? I would answer that one's first appreciation is a sense that the creation is still going on, that the creative forces are as great and as active to-day as they have ever been, and that tomorrow's morning will be as heroic as any of the world. Creation is here and now. So near is man to the creative pageant, so much a part is he of the endless and incredible experiment, that any glimpse he may have will be but the revelation of a moment, a solitary note heard in a symphony thundering through debatable existences of time. Poetry is as necessary to comprehension as science. It is as impossible to live without reverence as it is without joy. (pp. 216-17)

***

Whatever attitude to human existence you fashion for yourself, know that it is valid only if it be the shadow of an attitude to Nature. A human life, so often likened to a spectacle upon a stage, is more justly a ritual. The ancient values of dignity, beauty, and poetry which sustain it are of Nature's inspiration; they are born of the mystery and beauty of the world. Do no dishonour to the earth lest you dishonour the spirit of man. Hold your hands out over the earth as over a flame. To all who love her, who open to her the doors of their veins, she gives of her strength, sustaining them with her own measureless tremor of dark life. Touch the earth, love the earth, honour the earth, her plains, her valleys, her hills, and her seas; rest your spirit in her solitary places. For the gifts of life are the earth's and they are given to all, and they are the songs of birds at daybreak, Orion and the Bear, and dawn seen over ocean from the beach. (p. 218)

#henry beston #book quotes

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starry-eyed-steve-library · 1 year ago

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The end really got me here. 😭💔

First of all, I can only emphasize that this is rn my favorite Steve series. It's so well written and different (in a good way), I'm so in love with this. 💗

First of all, shout out to Louise, what a gem. One of the many Steve/Frankie shippers (what's their shipname?). My girl knows what's up, and I loved her snarky comments so much. The way she looked out for Frankie was really sweet. 💗

Sidenote: Thanks again for touching on Steve's insecurity around his scars. It's refreshing to see that it's not brushed off so easily, and realistically, he would feel some type of way. (We already got proof that his neck scar won't be there in s5, which is disappointing, but I'm not surprised. Thanks for including it in this fic 💗)

I really feel for Frankie's dad. Losing his wife and then having to watch his daughter struggle, it's gotta be tough. I loved his interaction with Steve and Steve promising to keep his daughter safe. Also loved her dad as Steve's doctor, it's super hard finding someone who takes you seriously. I'm happy to read about a positive experience. 💗

I always get a smile on my face as soon as the gang shows up. Their banter is just super hilarious (and in character). Absolutely obsessed with the idea that they are now neighbors soon. 💗

I really loved that you touched on Steve's feelings towards his friends, meaning his guilt of potentially holding Robin back and that's now eased by his other friends being there. I think it's realistic he would think that way, especially bc he doesn't want to see himself as an inconvenience. I love that he can talk to Eddie about some aspects, but it's still limited, which is understandable. I absolutely love that he found someone like Frankie who showes him it's okay to be who he is. Steve deserves that. 💗

Loved the sightseeing scene, they are so cute together and idiots for not seeing what everyone else is seeing lmao. 💗

I love that Frankie is now officially part of the gang. She fits in so well. 💗 I got kinda sad that she even had to ask Steve, just showes how lonely she feels. 💔😭

Again everyone noticing that they love each other besides them. They are idiots lmao 😅😭💗

Sidenote: every time I see the mention of Ferris Bueller, the Joe Keery Dominos commercial comes to my mind lmao. 😭💗 Also I'm like Frankie, haven't seen the movie yet 😭

Before I go into the last part, I just need to say I support the theory of Frankie being the inventor of wired earbuds. Like this is canon to me, sorry to the OG inventor lmao. 😭💗

The last part was really heavy. I can emphasize with Frankie a lot. It really hurt to see her in such a vulnerable state. 😭💔 I really felt that part with her friends. Lost a few myself for similar reasons. So I get it, especially feeling so lonely but also scared to let someone new in. 😭

I'm so happy she found Steve. They are so good to each other. They can be vulnerable with each other, they can relate, and they protect each other. It's just nice to see that they are less alone together. 💗

Steve having the worst timing with his realization, is also just peak character for him. I'm glad he kept it to himself in that moment. 😭💗

I can't wait for the next part, especially now that we have a Steve realization. Honestly, they are such a great match. If Frankie was canon, I would totally ship her with Steve. 💗

Also can't wait to see the shenanigans the gang gets into when Eddie and Dustin move in. There will be a lot of bickering and banter, I already love it. 💗

Thank you again for writing this series for us and creating such a great character in Frankie. I absolutely adore her. She's my new best friend lol. 💗

accident prone

part four - hold me in the dark

Paring: Steve Harrington x Francesca “Frankie” Amato (fem!OC)

Summary: The bond between Steve and Frankie continues to grow, alongside a poorly hidden secret. Despite it all, the two continue to find the sunshine breaking through clouds they force apart.

WC: 10k+

Includes: a whole lot of hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, language, disability, fibromyalgia, lupus, discussion of medical trauma, treatments, flare ups, caretaking, bad flirting and more friends to lovers nonsense, more blooming friendships!! (apologies if i miss anything, I’ll add if necessary!) basically, this one’s heavy, take caution before reading.

series playlist ⋮ masterlist

the end - halsey

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“if you knew it was the end of the world / could you love me like a child? / could you hold me in the dark? if you knew it was the end of the world / would you like to stay a while? / would you leave when it gets hard?”

A/N: thank you to anyone who has stuck with this series. I cannot express how much that means to me, even if it’s only a handful of y’all still here. originally, this part was 11k, then I split it to balance some scenes out, but it still ended up at 10k anyway. I wanted to explore with Frankie’s past, how her and Steve grow closer, and how she fits in with everyone. apologies to anyone I told this would be the happy, fluffy part 😭 it’ll be part 5, promise. it’s been cathartic to write this. I hope you still enjoy this if you read <3

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It’s been one month—give or take— since Steve opened up to Frankie about everything regarding his past. The more they trust one another, the harder it gets for Steve to push his feelings aside.

Steve’s never done aqua therapy before, but the mere thought of not having to feel pressure on his joints for a few hours a week had him elated.

The running theme of water aerobics, and any sort of therapeutic aqua activity, is that the popularity lies among elderly folks. So what a pleasant surprise it was for him to walk into the physical therapy center’s pool, eyes landing on Frankie among a bunch of older folks.

What a fucking relief.

Steve, who once had no concern showing off his body while swimming, covers himself in an old t-shirt with his swim trunks, hiding the worst of his scars. He notices the one piece Frankie wears, with the shorts nearly reaching her knees, t-shirt draped over her figure; the cotton weighed down with water exposes her shoulder a bit. He catches a glimpse of a blotchy, mottled pattern; his lingering stare is one second too long, hinting to her to cover the exposed spot, and she does.

“Steve!” She waves excitedly from the pool at him, losing grip of the foam weight in her other hand; it bounces out of the water, splashing her face. She frowns comically as she giggles, while a chuckle rises out of Steve, too.

“Hey, Frankie,” Making his way to the bench near her end of the pool, he’s rubbing the back of his neck, another one of his nervous habits; he shoots a half-smile her way. “Didn’t realize we were scheduled at the same time.”

About to respond, Frankie’s cut off by one of the elderly women swimming up beside her. “Francesca, I didn’t know your boyfriend would be here!”

Her face flushes red, eyes wide as saucers, “Wh— Louise! He’s not—“

“She—“ Steve shakes his head and hands in front of him, “We’re just friends.” He has to refrain from wincing at his and Frankie’s words.

That stings to say out loud.

Louise hums, amused. “Mhm, and Percy’s just my friend, too.” She smiles with kind, knowing eyes at Frankie, cheeks round as she chuckles. Then she looks over to Steve and winks as she swims away. “You kids have fun!”

“Louise, it’s physical therapy,” Frankie quips, hands on her hips as she narrows her eyes at the older woman. “You need to get out more if you think this is fun.”

“Can’t! The polka club’s closed for renovations!” She cackles before joining her group on the far side of the pool. Frankie turns back to Steve with a cherry red blush sweeping across her face, matching his own embarrassment, visible in his bright red cheeks.

“I can’t even be mad,” She rolls her eyes with a growing grin. “She’s literally me if I reach that age.”

Almost laughing, Steve catches her peculiar wording. “If?”

Frankie’s face drops, mouth opening to explain, but Steve’s physical therapist comes over, introducing himself before leading Steve to the other end of the pool, where the water treadmill is. He glances back at Frankie, trying to convey through his stare that this isn’t something he’s letting slide.

“Francesca! Jets are open if you want to use ‘em,” Louise breaks her thoughts, and as thrilled as she would be to use the massage jets after a round of PT, they just had to place them right next to the water treadmill.

Reluctantly, she swims over to the wall with the jets, avoiding eye contact with Steve, only feet away. He, on the other hand, won’t take his eyes off her.

There’s a murmur between Frankie and Louise, leaving Frankie cherry red under her freckles all over again as she swims off once more. Rolling her eyes, Frankie turns the jets on, but the pressure comes out heavy and rapid; Louise being the powerhouse of an elderly woman she is, forgot to turn down the settings for the younger woman.

“Jesus Christ, Louise,” Gripping the wall, she winces as the force of water nearly pushes her over, giggling through the pain. She turns the settings down, playfully glaring at the older woman as she gets out. “Always has to have the jets on full blast.”

To someone healthy and fit, the pressure of the massage jets wouldn’t be an issue, but Steve knows how it feels to ache on a bad day, just from wearing certain clothes. Clearly, the pressure’s enough to bother her.

“Sorry, kiddo!” Louise grimaces as she apologizes, wrapping herself in a towel twice her size, perching on a bench nearby.

“It’s fi—“ Frankie sucks in a sharp breath as she tries using the jets again, eyes scrunching shut as her body tenses up. Even on the lowest setting, the pressure is almost unbearable. Steve’s never seen her react like this to anything uncomfortable.

“‘Key, you alright?” Screw the water treadmill, he can’t take seeing her in pain; he swims off and makes his way over to her. “Hey, look at me,” Steve tries leading Frankie away from the rush of water, hands slipping into hers as gently as possible.

“Yeah, m’fine,” She croaks out with her eyes still shut, throat tight as she fights back tears. “Just need to get out.”

“Here, let me h—“

“N- no, it’s good, you should finish your session,” She slips out of his grasp, wading through the water to the steps. “I overdid it today, s’all.”

Steve’s left in the water alone, while Frankie cautiously navigates her way to the bench holding her towel; Louise shuffles over to help the younger woman, leading her to the locker room. Glancing back at Steve, she nods with a reassuring look that Frankie’s in good hands. He figures as much from the little interaction he witnessed between the two, but it’s not much easier jumping back into physical therapy with worry clouding his mind.

Still, he tries his best to continue his session without letting new anxieties eat away at his mind. He tries his best to stay focused, make it through the next hour. He tries his best to believe if something was wrong, Frankie wouldn’t hide it from him.

That’s all Steve can do— try, try, try.

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Since PT, Steve hasn’t heard from Frankie. It had only been a day, and today, he had off because of a follow-up appointment he had scheduled. He tried calling the night before, but never got an answer. It’s hard not to panic, not to assume the worst, especially after the comment she let slip without explanation.

“She’s literally me if I reach that age.”

If. If. If.

The word bounced around in his brain since the passing comment was made; what did she mean by ‘if’?

“Steve?”

Snapping back to reality, he jerks his head up to find Dr. Amato glancing at him with concern.

“So- sorry. What was your question?”

“How did physical therapy go?”

Does he know what happened to Frankie? Should I say something? No. That’s not what he asked. Don’t get distracted.

“It was… alright.” His stare falls to the floor, rolling his ankles in circles as his legs hang off the exam table he sits on.

Dr. Amato crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Just alright?”

“No— I mean— it was good, just not…” He trails off, conflicted on what to say. He wants to tell the doctor he liked the concept of aqua therapy, that he wants to continue it, and from the little bit he could focus on, he thinks it could help. But there’s no way of mentioning that without mentioning Frankie. He settles on, “It was good.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. Would you want to continue sessions?”

Steve nods, trying to push his concern for Frankie to the back of his mind. “Yeah. S’kinda nice not having to worry about pressure on my joints for an hour a week,” He laughs weakly. It’s not a lie, he really does like that part of PT.

“How comfortable are you with multiple sessions a week? Or do you want to keep it at one per week?”

As great as the water felt on his joints, the exercises kicked his ass; he’d be worn out more often than not if he did PT more than once a week. “Maybe one, until I get used to it? Is that… can we do that?”

“Kid, you know your body better than anyone else would,” The doctor doesn’t sound condescending, it’s something he stands by firmly. “We can start with sessions once a week, but if and when you decide you’re ready, we can add more as necessary. That sound good?”

Heavy concerns on his mind aside, it’s still so refreshing to have a doctor that not only cares, but believes him, too.

“Absolutely,” He gives the doctor a weak smile, but it’s genuine, at least.

Dr. Amato finishes writing in Steve’s chart. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”

Steve shakes his head, “No, I think we covered everything”. Even though it’s his second time here, he feels so at ease to open up about his health ailments without fear of judgement.

The doctor clears his throat, closing Steve’s file, chair creaking as he leans back. “Steve, off the record, can I ask something? You don’t have to talk about this either if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Uh, n- no— I mean yeah! Yes.”

Dr. Amato sighs, crossing his arms again. “I’m asking this as Frankie’s father, not as a medical professional: how has she been doing, really?”

Eyes widening, Steve’s mind spins. What does he mean by that?

“Is— is this about the physical therapy thing?”

“The wh— oh, boy. I wasn’t even aware of anything happening there,” He runs a hand down his face, reminding Steve of Hopper. “Look, you don’t have to tell me anything, you’re both adults. But I figured I’d ask you noticed anything… different lately, since you’re friends, and co-workers.”

Steve’s brows furrow, fidgeting with the edges of his sweatshirt’s sleeves. “I- I’m not sure what that means.”

“To put it bluntly, I believe she’s experiencing a pretty intense flare-up, but she refuses to tell me. I know asking you is strange, and again, no pressure to confide in me about anything, but you’re the closest person to Francesca these days.”

Me? What about her other friends?

Then it dawns on Steve; she never talks about other friends. Does Frankie have anyone in her life outside of Steve, or her father? What about Rhi and Cade?

From what Frankie has told Steve, he knows she trusts her dad. She has a good relationship with him, but also worries about him. Maybe that’s why he’s left in the dark on something occurring, but Steve is, too. If it’s for her well being, he’ll discuss the little he knows, or witnessed.

“Only thing I’ve noticed was what happened yesterday. She was in a lot of pain… more than usual. The— those massage jets in the pool, they hurt her, and—“ He can feel empathy weighing heavy on his heart for her as he recalls the moment. “I… if I’m being honest, I’ve never seen her in that much pain. At least she’s never shown it that visibly before.”

Dr. Amato sighs heavily as he nods, and Steve hopes he hasn’t said too much.

“I hate asking this of you, Steve, because you’ve got your own chronic illness to worry about, but would you mind checking in with her when you can? Not asking you to snitch, or anything,” He gives his own uneasy, nervous laugh. “But if anything of… concern comes up, I—“ He shakes his head, gathering his files, giving Steve a somber look. “It’s her story to tell, not mine. Just don’t be afraid to push her to get help, if she needs. Please. I feel you’ll have an easier time convincing her than I would.”

This isn’t a parent pushing their responsibilities to care for their child, even as a full grown adult, off onto someone else; this is a single parent, probably neck deep in work, running out of options to get his only child to be honest about just how severe things have become. He lost his wife, Frankie’s mother, to a sickness not even treatment could save her from. He must be terrified of even the possibility to watch that replay with his own daughter.

Steve also cares about Frankie, really, really cares deeply about her, so it’s a no-brainer response.

“Absolutely, Dr. Amato. I- I’d do—“ Steve, don’t say it. Don’t get emotional. “I’d do anything if it meant keeping Frankie safe.”

Goddammit, why can’t you shut your mouth for once?

Dr. Amato stands, towering over Steve, concern still written all over his face, but a flicker of hope and some kind of ease, too. “I know, Steve. She probably won’t tell you, but the friendship you two have is one of the best things to happen to her in a long while.” He shakes Steve’s hand, which Steve finds out of place in a conversation like this, but assumes the doctor is just taking the professional route. “Thanks, kid. I’ll see you in a month for a follow up, but don’t hesitate to call if you need.”

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The following day, Steve was surprised to find Frankie so upbeat when he entered the record shop. She’s sweeping along the tiled floor, singing along to the music pumping through the speakers, a little off key, but it brings a smile to Steve’s face to see her doing better today.

At least, that’s how it seems.

She’s bopping her head along, dancing lazily, sometimes humming along to the words she doesn’t know; she’s lost in whatever song fills the shop, with a distracted smile on her face.

“In my darkest dreams I see, you’re much closer now to me. I have got you in my hair, I can feel you ‘round me everywhere.”

Steve’s mesmerized by the pure joy she’s radiating, completely enveloped in her own little world, unaware the door’s bell chimed out, or that he’s just standing there, unable to tear his eyes away. In fact, when she spins around, she’s immediately startled at the sight of Steve, dropping the broom as she yelps.

“Christ, Steve, you can’t sneak up on me like that!” She clutches her chest, heart about to beat out of her chest, only to dissolve into a fit of giggles. He smiles apologetically with a shrug. “Hope you didn’t hear too much of my bad singing.”

“Who cares— you should hear me singing along to whatever’s on the radio on road trips,” He hands Frankie her coffee; it’s his day to grab their orders. He loves this small routine they’ve fallen into, but today was one of the many lately where Cade and Rhi tease the hell out of him for not telling Frankie how he feels. Seriously? Does everyone know except her? He shakes the thoughts from his mind, focusing back on her. “Usually Robin’s ready to kick me out of the moving car, and I’m the one always driving.”

Frankie pauses mid-sip of her peculiar yet regular iced coffee order, snorting over Steve’s words.

“Just wait ‘til we drive somewhere for awhile, I think you’ll get sick of me real quick. If I’m not singing obnoxiously, I’ll talk your ear off.”

I’d never get sick of that, or you.

She’s just joking along, but Steve finds himself shaking his head, softly replying, “No way. I- I’d like it.” A gentle smile floats across his face, followed by a deep blush, stammering to explain, “Y’know, I- like— if we took a trip somewhere— together— I mean, duh, together, you said that, it’s—“ Jesus, Steve. Shut. Up.

Frankie’s smirking at him. “I’d like that too.” She sets her coffee down on the nearest surface, bending down to pick the broom back up. Any happiness visible vanishes in an instant as she tries to get back up, not making it very far; the broom slips from her grasp as her legs give out, sending her crashing to the floor. Thankfully, it was a short fall, but she curses under her breath, face twisting up in the same discomfort Steve witnessed days ago.

He sets his stuff aside, dropping to the floor. “Shit. You okay? Here,” He holds his hands out, but she swats them away; he wasn’t expecting that, leaving him stunned.

“I can do it. M’fine,” She huffs, looking away, embarrassed.

“‘Key, I’m not saying you can’t—“

“It’s okay, really. I- I’m fine.” She takes her time getting back on her feet, grabbing onto a nearby sturdy shelf of CDs to lift herself back up. “See? I’m okay.”

He can’t just drop this, though. “Why won’t you let me help you, the way you help me?”

Frankie’s mouth opens to respond, but not a word comes out. There’s not much of a chance for any response anyway, not when the door’s chime sets off again. The pair turn to find Robin, Eddie and Dustin entering with big smiles on their faces.

“Okay, surprising you here might be way better than a hospital,” Dustin snorts.

Eddie, has no greeting, eyes going wide at the new surroundings, whispering, “Holy shit.”

“They insisted on coming here to see you two,” Robin shrugs, smirking. “I was practically held up at gunpoint. By Dustin.”

“Whoa, not cool, I’ve never once owned anything dangerous like that.”

“No, but you did wield that long electric prod that you practically stabbed that evil doctor with—“

“To save your lives!”

Steve sighs, rolling his eyes, before turning to Frankie with a hint of a smile, “Here we fuckin’ go again.” It earns a giggle out of her. If there’s anything she’ll allow him to do to make her feel better, at the very least, he’s happy he can make her laugh. Still, low enough for only her to hear, he murmurs, “I- I wanna talk about all of this later. Just you and me. Okay?”

Frankie huffs out of her nose, but her body relaxes, relenting on the defensive front she wants to hide behind. “Okay. M’sorry.”

Steve grabs her hand quick, squeezing it, “Hey, don’t be sorry. You’ve got a lot going on. S’all gonna be okay, I promise.”

“So… can I live here?” Eddie asks in a dreamy state, drinking in every little detail of the indie record shop. “This place is so fucking cool.”

Steve releases Frankie’s hand, noticing the way Robin eyes the two of them curiously. He narrows his eyes at her, and she whistles, wandering away.

“Eddie, there’s a record store across the street from our place,” Dustin laughs, but Eddie shakes his head animatedly.

“Yeah, but it went all corporate, and shit. The world needs more hidden gems like this,” He throws his arms out, spinning around in a circle. “Not another fuckin’ Sam Goody.”

“Hey, they have good deals sometimes!” Robin argues, but Eddie flips her off, wandering to a section with guitar strings and picks.

“You guys should just move to the city at this point, with all the trips you’re taking,” Steve’s mostly teasing, but Dustin can’t hide the shit-eating grin growing on his face.

“Funny you mention that…”

“Wait— wait, really? Henderson, I swear to god if you’re fucking with me—“

This catches Eddie’s attention, and he zips back over to the group, hands animatedly flowing as he explains, “So, okay, funny story, somehow my uncle, and his mom managed to get into some weird, long distance relationship—“

“It’s really just yearning like they’re in some gothic romance novel, writing letters to one another and shit,” Robin cuts in, snickering.

“Which would build to something, like all relationships do eventually, Buckley!” Eddie quips, rolling his eyes with a scoff. “Anyway, long story short, he wants to head to Florida, move in with her. Our lease ends in a month, and, I shit you not, Steven—“

“Don’t call me that, man.”

“… Big boy?”

“Not that either!”

Frankie, all the while, is back in a fit of giggles behind Steve; it brings a small smile to his face, one only the other three can see.

“The apartment across the hall from yours? Available. Well, it was.”

“Basically, surprise! We’re neighbors now. Well. We’re gonna be neighbors,” Dustin’s grin grows even wider, as if that was even possible. “

Steve’s heart swells with joy; he can’t believe his other best friends are moving here. Here, in the city, but also right next door. After being apart for years, aside from trips here and there to visit on another, he can’t believe they’ll all be together again. It feels right. Familiar.

The family he found, the one that’s given him more than his family by blood ever had, ever will, will be together again. At least, partially. He misses everyone that’s moved to California. Hell, he even misses, Jonathan and Nancy, still out in New York City. But this news, his two best friends moving here, makes coping with the major changes and trauma left behind a little easier.

And he loves Robin, she’s his number one, as he is her’s, but he’s been worried he holds her back sometimes. For a while, Robin was the only friend he had out here. She gave up a lot of nights out with new friends, dates with women she’d never meet back in a small town like Hawkins, to be there for her best friend. She doesn’t regret it, and he’s thankful for any moments she’s been there for him, but the guilt has always lied underneath it all. Robin never once said or sought out to make him feel like a burden, but it was still on Steve’s mind.

Then, Frankie came along, not only a new friend, but a friend who understood him on a level no one else has or could currently. Not firsthand, at least. And sure, Eddie had his health issues, had to use mobility aids when he was recovering, and he and Steve bonded over that for a bit, but aside from the PTSD they all have— still crippling in its own ways— he’s surprisingly healed enough to not have chronic pain. Not like Steve still has.

Frankie opened Steve’s eyes to a world where he can exist, sick but unapologetic. Trying his best, but not punching himself down for what’s out of his control. He could be disabled and happy; the two absolutely can co-exist.

It all feels like things are finally falling into place for Steve; it feels like he’s finally sighing a breath he’s held for five years. Maybe, just maybe, he can enjoy life again without dreading what’s yet to come, or feeling guilty for simply existing. Whatever’s bound to happen in the future, good or bad, he’s surrounded by his closest friends, his family.

Whatever the future brings for Steve, he can handle it now.

“You can play D&D with us again!” Dustin exclaims, fist pumping into the air.

Okay, except that.

Steve’s face reddens, eyes shifting between his friends and Frankie, laughing it off sheepishly. “Whoa, wait, I played like, three times at most—“

“Hey, man, don’t try saving face just ‘cause Frankie’s here.” Eddie smirks, eyes darting over to Frankie who looks confused. “You’re still a nerd like the rest of us.”

“I— shut up—“

“You guys play?” Everyone turns to Frankie, dead silent, and she stammers, feeling like she’s on the spot now. “I- I- used to, in school— well, when I wasn’t missing school and seeing friends ‘cause I was sick a lot, but…” She trails off with a shrug.

“See, even Frankie’s a nerd!” Dustin throws his hand out towards her, making her laugh, but he still elaborates, “That’s a compliment, I promise.”

“So why are you—“ She pokes Steve’s arm, “So offended by being called a nerd?”

“I— I’m not—“

All three of his friends respond at once:

Dustin with a deadpan, “Oh, he absolutely is offended by that, still.”

“It’s the ‘King Steve’ complex that’s still stuck like old bubblegum, probably,” Eddie jokes slyly.

“He’s in denial, more than I was when I was in the closet.” Robin taunts, laughing at her own remark.

“Wait, hang on, that’s fucked up, Rob.” Steve can’t help but laugh despite his words.

“I’m just being honest!”

“Hold on, back up, what’s this ‘King Steve’ shit?” Frankie’s so amused as the shade of embarrassment across Steve’s face spreads to his neck, only growing deeper.

“Oh, it’s— let’s not—“ He tries shrugging it off with a ‘pffffttt’ noise and a nervous laugh. “I told you before, I- I was… not the greatest person in high school.”

“He was a dick,” Dustin bluntly points out, and Steve shoots him a glare.

“Never expected to ever become best friends with him before everything happened at Starcourt,” Robin’s honesty makes Steve shake his head. “That’s not a bad thing, dingus. Just a wild plot twist!”

“Big boy over here hated me,” Steve’s ready to fight Eddie as he speaks the truth. “If it weren’t for Dustin, he’d probably still hate me.”

“Or, you probably would’ve stabbed my neck with that fucking broken beer bottle first.”

“Whoa, man. Thought that water was under the bridge.”

“I’m just saying!”

Dustin turns to Frankie, paying no mind his two older brother figures. “Ignore those children,” She giggles while they both glare at her, then Dustin. “I wanna know what touristy things we should do before we move here.”

“We are not children! You’re the infant, Dusty Bun,” Eddie snaps back with a grin.

“Only Suzie can call me that, and you know it!”

“Well, I—“ Frankie holds her hand up to Eddie, and his jaw drops. “Are you telling me to talk to the hand?” He pulls out the dramatics, clutching his chest. “Frankie... How could you?”

“Anyway, I got lots of fun suggestions!” She turns from Dustin, eyes darting between Eddie and Steve. “No children allowed, though.”

Robin, meanwhile, is cracking up during all of this.

“What if we kiss and make up?” Eddie cracks while he waggles his brows at Steve, who rolls his eyes and reels back.

“Eddie, man, get the hell away from me.”

He simply shrugs, “Your loss.”

Dustin throws his hands up, blocking the two of them out of his sight. “Can we ditch them? I wanna ditch them.”

Steve scoffs, “You little shit—“

His one hand balls up, poking his middle finger at the two of them, attention still on Frankie.

“Actually… there is something I still haven’t tried yet,” Frankie mentions, shyness pouring out suddenly, almost worried of rejection. “If you guys are up for it, that is.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

Everything’s surreal up this high from the Sears Tower, and Steve? Oddly enough, for how cautious and anxious of a person he has become, he loves this. There’s something that puts him at ease being above the city’s grid and all the chaos and routine running through it.

But Frankie? The idea in theory sounded exciting, but now that they’re all up here…

“Oh… no, it’s— “ She eyes the window behind Steve, freezing in her tracks feet away. Tensing up, she’s nervously babbling, “I’m— you enjoy it, I’m good right here— safe— I- I’m safe here.”

Frankie keeps her distance from the window, leaning onto her cane and fidgeting with the wrist strap. She’s afraid to peer over the edge of the railing, despite the thick glass, terrified of the height they’re at.

Steve turns back around, holding his hand out to her. “C’mon, I got you.”

“Yeah but what if there’s, like, a freak accident and the glass breaks and I fall? And you’d fall, too. If we died ‘cause of me, I’d never forgive myself.”

It sounds absolutely absurd, and Frankie expects Steve to poke fun at her, but he only continues holding out his hand toward her.

“Frankie.” He gives a reassuring smile, only to crack, “You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you’re dead.”

“Steve, that’s not helping!” She laughs a little, but she’s frozen in place. Steve steps closer, hand still extended toward her.

“You’re safe, I promise.” Steve doesn’t want to push Frankie if she’s truly uncomfortable, but she’s been excitedly talking about the observation deck all day, and would hate to see her miss out on the view. “Like you told me, you won’t let anything hurt me, so I won’t let anything hurt you. I swear.”

With a trembling hand, she grasps onto his, letting Steve guide her over to the railing. She takes a deep breath as he stands behind her, glancing down toward the city’s aerial view for just a second. Eyes widening, she spins around to walk off, but bumps directly into him instead with an “oof!”.

“Nope, not so fast,” He grabs her shoulders, slowly turning her back around to stay at the window. Steve stands behind her, hands lazily gripping the railing as his arms cage her in. He leans down to her ear, murmuring, “You’re always safe with me.”

Frankie sets her cane against the railing, hands slowly sliding over his, fear-fueled trembling beginning to slow. She mutters more to herself, in reassurance, but Steve still hears it, “Safe with you.”

Off in the distance, boats sail along the green-blue hue of the lake, while the sunshine’s reflection glitters along the surface. Standing alongside the buildings feels strange, and the view of the cars and people and trains from up here just make them look like toys. There’s not a cloud in the sky today, but Frankie’s sure if there were any, they’d be close enough to reach out and touch.

A few feet away, they hear Dustin say the timeless, “I can see my house from here!” joke. They both burst into snorts and giggles, with Steve glancing over to the kid— Dustin’s always going to be a kid to him— he’s considered a younger brother for so long now, watching the way he enthusiastically smushes his face against the glass.

“What house? He’s literally looking out at the lake,” Steve stifles a laugh, shaking his head, as Frankie takes a quick glance over, snorting. Eddie and Robin are pressed against the glass now, searching for whatever the hell Dustin’s pointing at. They’re standing on the railing, squishing only their faces against the windows.

Her brows crinkle, head tilting with curiosity. “Why are they pressed against the glass like that?”

Steve follows her stare, then returns to her with a knowing smile, “You know that scene in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?”

Frankie shifts to face Steve, totally lost as her eyes meet his. “…. No.”

“Wh— are you kidding me?”

“I’ve never seen it…”

“First you tell me you’ve lived here your whole life, and never came up here until today, and now you’re telling me you’ve never seen that movie?!” She just shakes her head, smiling with a cringe. “Wanna watch it later? But only if you’re up for it, though. If you’re not feeling well, you should rest— are you feeling okay now? Shit, I should’ve asked before we got here—“

“Steve.” Frankie’s hands slip entirely away from his as she turns completely, leaning against the railing to look up at him. She’s so close, so close to him, it’d be practically effortless to lean in and kiss her.

Christ, stop thinking about that. We’re friends. Just that. Only that. Nothing else. Friends.

“I’m good aside from the fatigue, but I’m really glad we’re here, even if it’s a little scary.” She gives a nervous, soft chuckle, eyes landing on his lips, lingering for a second too long. Her eyes screw shut, nodding, “B- but I’d— yeah, I’d like that. I can’t promise I’d stay awake though.”

Now Steve’s mirroring Frankie, gaze falling to her lips, plush and pretty in the warm, soft smile she defaults to often. He sucks in a breath, forcing himself to bring his eyes back to meet her own.

“Yeah, that’s…” Steve, focus. “That’s fine. Maybe it’s better to hang at your place then, in case you need to rest. I- if that’s okay with you, of course.”

She hums in agreement, turning back to the window. Her hands slide back over his, “I’d like that a lot. All of us, right?”

While he was hoping for some alone time, it makes him happy to know she’s comfortable around his friends. Her friends, too. She glances back over to the other three, a smile pulling wider across her features as she watches them laugh and joke about god knows what.

“Your friends are fun to be around.” Frankie’s staring out to the skyscrapers nearby, gradually shrinking closer and closer to the ground the farther she looks out. Her thumbs sweep across the backs of Steve’s hands subconsciously; they still tremble a little, but the contact of her hands on his keeps her grounded. “Thank you for always including me.”

“They’re your friends too, y’know.”

“Oh I— I didn’t want to assume—“

Steve shakes his head, even though she can’t see. “You’re a part of this little, weird… whatever the hell kind of friend group we’ve got going on here.” He chuckles, “Unless it’s too weird for you, then I totally get it.”

Frankie tilts her head up and back, trying to look at Steve, grinning, “Yeah, ‘cause I’m the definition of normal.”

The way her eyes crinkle in her smile, nose scrunching as she teases, all Steve wants to do is lean down and kiss her, even if the angle is awkward.

Quit thinking about kissing her, don’t make it weird.

It’s such a strange, grey space to float in; they’re so comfortable around one another, with touches that aren’t fleeting anymore, they linger. They’ve been flirting, mostly teasing one another, displaying little acts of affection that stick with Steve for days— but nothing has come from it. Nothing more, at least.

Even if he and Frankie were stuck in this cycle of friends with a hint of more, he’d be happy. He longs for more, but he’s just grateful to know her, bonded together by unique circumstances. By now, Steve’s learned not to depend on one person for happiness, but is it such a crime to naturally feel elated by someone’s presence, and how well they flow with you?

“S’pretty from up here.”

“See? Not so scary, huh?”

She shakes her head and speaks faintly, it’s barely even a whisper, “Not with you.” Making the move first, she spreads his fingers apart with her own, lacing them together while still resting her palms against the backs of his hands.

There’s something. This has to be something.

Steve doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate before he gently kisses the top of her head.

Frankie’s blushing wildly, though he can’t see, and feigning disgust through a scoff, “Gross, Steve.” She giggles as she squeezes his hands, while he scoffs a laugh.

“I’ll remember that, Amato.”

“Shh, Steve, shut up, I’m busy sightseeing” She’s shaking as she tries holding back more laughter, pointing to the lake. “Oh! I can see my house from here!”

“See!” Dustin shouts. “Frankie gets it!”

Yeah, ‘Key, you fit right in.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

Frankie finally watches Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and giggles throughout the entire movie, sharing a loveseat with Steve. The two inch closer to one another over time, and halfway through the second movie, Poltergeist, she’s hiding her eyes behind her fingers. Steve teasingly pulls her hands from her face, so she ducks her head into his chest.

“We can turn it off if you want,” He whispers to her, but she shakes her head.

“No, I love horror movies, m’just a big wimp,” She rolls her eyes at herself, despite Steve barely being able to see it.

“Think you might’ve picked this one just to have an excuse to cuddle,” He bravely teases, hoping it’s not a touch too far. Relief floods through him as she snuggles into him even more.

She tilts her head up and glares back at him playfully. “Maybe… maybe not.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie hisses from the couch he’s sprawled out on. “Can you two lovebirds shut up?”

Both Frankie and Steve sit up with defenses, “We’re not like that—“ and “He’s— we’re friends!”

“Yeah, and I’m straight,” Robin mutters from the floor, earning a cackle from Dustin over in the recliner.

Sighing in annoyance, Steve lays back down, pulling Frankie with him as her face turns red. Embarrassment and irritation flows between the two of them. Their friends mean well, really, they do; it’s just lighthearted teasing. Yet it still tugs at the reminder for Steve to not get caught up in feelings that won’t be reciprocated.

Yawning, Frankie wraps her arms around Steve’s waist, face resting and squishing up against his chest to watch the movie, but it’s not long before she’s fast asleep.

This isn’t new, not Frankie falling asleep on, or near Steve, at least. It hasn’t happened in front of his friends, though, and his interest in the movie is long gone, now focusing it all on the girl he’s been falling terribly hard for.

As Steve plays with Frankie’s hair gently, sinking into the pillows so, so carefully, trying to get comfortable without waking her, attentive to any faint noises she makes in her sleep, worried she’s going to wake up in more pain— he has no clue his friends are watching him.

Robin notices first, catching in the corner of her eye the awkward way Steve shifts against the cushions, throwing his legs over the armrest, holding Frankie close to him. She snores once, so softly, but it makes Steve smile. His fingers run up and down her spine, slowly, gently, ghosting their touch along her back in patterned caresses. His own eyes begin to grow heavy, and he fights sleep a few times, only to drift off regardless; one hand is woven in her hair, his other arm wrapped snug around her waist, keeping her secure against his own body.

Turning back to the others, Robin finds Dustin and Eddie admiring the two of them together, too.

“We should probably head out,” Dustin whispers as the older two nod.

They collect their things, let the tape play through, quietly slinking out of Frankie’s apartment. On the way out, Robin sticks a note on Steve’s forehead, holding back a snicker as he scrunches his face up in his sleep.

Eddie quietly closes the door behind them, glancing up at Robin and Dustin once the door clicks shut.

“I know you guys have been friends with him longer, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so… comfortable with someone else.”

They make their way out of the building, with Robin agreeing, “Yeah, neither have I. Haven’t seen him this content with anyone in years.”

“Not even with Nancy, honestly,” Dustin adds.

There’s a silence that falls over them as they head down the sidewalk. They’re all thinking the same thing, but Eddie still has to ask.

“Do you think he—“

“Yeah, he totally does,” Robin cuts Eddie off.

Dustin just smiles knowingly. He’s called it, they all have from the start. Steve’s the last to know, the last to figure it out, like always, but he’ll get there. He always does.

This time, though, when Steve falls, Frankie will be there to catch him. They just know it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

A few days later, Steve comes into the shop, enjoying the warmth of another beautiful spring morning; he makes his way through the quiet, dark store while sunlight’s beginning to peek through the windows, spilling across the rows of records.

I could’ve sworn Frankie said she’s opening today, he wonders if he read his calendar wrong. The faint sound of weeping that floats out of the dark break room shoves that thought aside.

True to his personality, Steve rushes in, panicked and ready to protect his friend from whatever has her upset. Frankie’s on the worn, beat up couch, head in her hands as she folds forward to her knees. The lights are off in the room, and he wonders if that was intentional.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” He drops his stuff on the floor, sliding onto the couch next to her. He’s ready to throw a comforting arm around her, but pauses, just to double check, “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Frankie sits up, quick to wipe her tears away. “I- I’m fine. It’s all good.” Her voice wavers, betraying her words. She won’t look at him, but she looks exhausted from what Steve can observe. Her bottom lip trembles, so she curls it inward, but her eyes crinkle at the edges as tears taunt her, ready to fall all over again.

“You’re not good,” Steve holds out an arm, signaling her to sink into his embrace, if it helps. She does, because it does help. She leans into him, and the tears start all over again. “You told me I had to be honest about what hurts me, I need you to be honest about your pain, too.”

“S’just a flare up.”

“Flare ups can be a big deal, ‘Key.”

“Well, I don’t want it to be a big deal!” Steve can empathize with her stubbornness; it’s so disheartening to do well for some time, just to crash into a flare up once again. It’s a constant, cruel reminder you’ll never be healthy. You’ll never get better. “I wish you’d drop it, Steve. I- I know you care, but I’m fine.”

It must be bad enough if she’s in denial like this.

Steve’s been doing what he can to learn more about lupus, to help comfort Frankie where he can in times like this; life has been hell for him with fibromyalgia alone, he can’t begin to imagine the pain and suffering Frankie feels with lupus. She carries herself so well most days, carefree and spirited, always smiling and cracking corny jokes or shooting off her sarcasm, while carrying love for everyone and everything good in her life.

If it weren’t for the tell-tale signs of a flare up, or using a mobility aid, one would never guess she’s sick from a quick glance, or brief interaction.

“What if I take over today? You can go home and rest—“

“No,” Her voice is firm, bitter, and doesn’t match her current appearance at all. Her ruined makeup has dried in streaks running down her face. Steve frowns, realizing she’s not herself at all.

“No?”

She sits up, eyes heavy with fatigue, and Steve notices the faint butterfly rash spreading rosy red across her features. Tenderly, the back of his hand rests against her forehead, eyes widening at the sudden temperature change.

“Jesus Christ, ‘Key, you’re burning up.”

“I know m’hot, don’t gotta tell me,” She jokes with a weak smile, if even existent at all. The faint smile flips into a frown with ease. “Steve, I never got your coffee— fuck. Shit. I’m so sorry.”

While alternating days of ordering each other’s coffees became a pleasant routine for Steve, it’s the last of his concerns right now, though.

“It’s just coffee, that’s not a big…” Bloodshot, glassy orbs glance back at him, breaking his heart. Hands cupping her own, he gives a gentle squeeze. “Hey, it’s okay, ‘Key. Seriously. Please don’t beat yourself up over that.” The fever’s getting to her— hell, this entire flare up probably has her on edge. Steve knows even when he has a cold, everything feels distant mentally; he can only imagine how rough a fever is along with other flare up symptoms.

“But I… I forgot.”

Outside of flare ups, Frankie’s memory is usually sharp as a tack. Now, though, she’s lost in a fog of pain and a hint of delirium.

“Hey, honey, it’s okay,” Steve surprises himself when the endearing term comes out with ease. “Do you still want— shit, wait, you probably shouldn’t have coffee right now— “ He squeezes his eyes shut, stammering, “Fuck, uh— tea? Maybe that’ll help, might be soothing. Would that work?”

“I got some at home, but I’m okay, Steve. I just need a second. B- but I can open today,” She’s up, and only on her feet for a second, reaching out to steady herself on something. Like the very first day they met, Steve acts quickly, catching her as she stumbles. Unlike that day, though, this time is worrying him.

“You’re not okay, and you’re not working today.” Steve’s tone is firm as he helps Frankie sit down safely. He kneels on the floor before her, hand slipping under her chin to lift her gaze up to his. “You’re not riding this fever out on a damn break room couch, either.”

Much to his surprise, she doesn’t argue back. Maybe the fatigue and aching has worn her down to nearly a shell of her usual upbeat, independent self. Defeated, she asks with one word, “Home?”

If cradling one another’s faces with their hands was an Olympic sport, both Frankie and Steve would be tied for gold. Both of his hands hold her face gingerly as he nods.

“Yeah, I’ll take you home.”

“No,” Her head shakes. Wrapping her fingers around his wrists weakly, she asks with bleary eyes, “Come home with me?”

There’s a pang in his heart; the sweetly phrased question is laced in pain and fatigue, and in another timeline, where Frankie and Steve are healthy, it’d be one to send his heart racing with excitement. Instead, it’s broken, tangled in the grief that comes along with yet another flare up.

Yet another reminder one never fully gets better with illnesses like these.

He gives her a pensive smile, “F’course, ‘Key.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“You ever wish you could share your headphones with someone?” Frankie’s peering out her open bedroom window from her bed. She looks so cozy in a loose sweatshirt and gym shorts, nursing a cup of tea Steve made for her. The Tylenol she took seems to be kicking in, which is a relief to Steve; her temperature earlier read 101 degrees, just above being a low grade fever.

There’s a comforting, gentle breeze coming from the window, giving her some relief from overheating.

Steve’s face crinkles with confusion as he laughs. “What?” He’s on the opposite end of her bed, wearing the same pair of sweats she let him use the first time he came over, tea mug sitting empty on the windowsill.

“Yeah… like, when you wanna listen to the same tape with them, or something?”

“… Just use a stereo?”

“Not the same! There’s something intimate about sharing your favorite song with someone in real time, y’know?”

No, he wouldn’t. He’s never been into music enough— nor have his past partners and friends— to think about something sweet like that. Maybe Robin or Eddie would find it fun, but they all have vastly different tastes in music.

“I- I wouldn’t know.”

“Someone should make headphones, but they go inside your ears,” She turns to Steve, golden hour of the day’s sunset gleaming over her worn features. How the hell is she always so beautiful? “Like, little, tiny earplug-like headphones,” She pinches her thumb and index fingers together, holding them by her ear. “And they’d be connected by a wire on each, right? So it’d be so easy to share with someone else. Each person uses one of the earplug-headphone-thingies.”

He teases, “Oh, is that the patented name for it?”

“Yeah! M’gonna invent it. You just wait,” She sets her mug next to Steve’s, sinking under the covers a little further with a sigh, eyes heavy with fatigue. “Then we can share our favorite songs together.”

Shaking his head with a chuckle, Steve’s captivated by the sunlight gleaming along her figure; even covered in blankets and comfy layers, there’s something angelic about the scene of her before him.

“So, we gotta wait ‘til you invent those headphones?” He scoots to her side of the bed, sliding under the covers next to her.

“Earplug-headphone-thingies, Steven,” She corrects him.

“Just because you’re in a flare up doesn’t mean you get to throw my full name around like that.”

“You’re right, it’s unfair if I don’t know your middle name.” She rolls towards him, poking his chest, “Spill it, Harrington.”

“Absolutely not, Francesca.”

“That’s another quarter.”

“Jesus, have some mercy, will ya’?”

“Hm… might spare you if you hold me.”

“You’re asking for a lot,” Despite his teasing, Steve winds his arms around Frankie, bringing her closer. She’s still too warm, but it’s not as intense as earlier, thankfully. He’s just above a whisper as he asks, “How’re you feeling?”

She sighs, tucking her face into his shoulder, “Honestly, I feel terrible.” She falls into silence, long enough that Steve wonders if she fell asleep.

“‘Key?”

“Y’know, the night you told me about everything… with Hawkins, and the Upside Down… when I found you outside, you told me you didn’t want me to see you like that.” Frankie’s on the edge of a mirthless chuckle, “I remember thinking that we’re both sick, we’re bound to see the worst of one another’s illnesses at some point… but now I can’t stop feeling the same as you did— I really never wanted you to see me like this.”

“You’re right, it’s kinda inevitable two sick friends would see each other at their lowest points, but that won’t drive me away.”

“That’s the thing, though. We’re both sick. What happens when our flare ups occur at the same time? Even if you’re not in a flare, you’re still in pain. I feel awful that you’re pushing yourself to take care of me.”

That doesn’t matter when you love someone.

Steve’s grateful Frankie can’t see his face right now, eyes wide as saucers as the truth finally collides with his thoughts he won’t dare to speak aloud. He prays she can’t feel the way his heartbeat practically stops, or how he’s holding his breath, afraid to exhale a confession.

… Oh.

He can’t tell her; even if he wanted to, this isn’t the time right now. So now he has to sit with this revelation in silence, shove it to the farthest corner of his mind. And really, is it even much of a revelation to begin with? He’s known about his feelings toward Frankie for months now, but to effortlessly think about caring for her as an act of love, that’s… that’s new.

How the hell do I tell her without actually telling her?

“You’re always caring for me through your pain, let me do the same for you.” Steve’s fingers run through her hair, ever so gently, afraid he’ll hurt her somehow in such a vulnerable state. “I care about you, Frankie. A lot.”

“That’s what scares me.”

“Huh? What do you mean by that?”

Frankie rolls onto her stomach, crossing her arms in front of her on the pillow before resting her chin on them, eyes refusing to meet Steve’s.

“Five years ago you were leaving behind the worst shit you’ve ever experienced,” She doesn’t give into crying, despite the way her voice wavers and bottom lip wobbles, ever so slightly, in a pout. “Five years ago, I had the worst flare up of my life. I never went through one so intense before that.”

Steve turns to her, arm still draped over her torso lazily. He stays quiet, ready to listen, fingers tracing slow circles on her back.

“Usually, it was joint pain, some mild inflammation in spots, the rash I have on my face now, low grade fevers— common, mild lupus symptoms.” She sounds so worn down, but holds strong. “But the worst flare up went beyond all of that. It just got worse, and worse; I had rashes that turned into sores all over, fatigue made it literally impossible to stay awake, I was losing hair, and I couldn’t walk much without my legs giving out. That alone made me severely depressed, too. Just a constant cycle of bracing myself for the worst, and worrying if it’d ever get better or not.

“The usual meds I took weren’t enough. Nothing was getting better. I woke up one morning and couldn’t physically leave bed, like m- my legs would not move.” She tilts her face into her arms, trying to hide what she can of her face as tears threaten to break. “I was paralyzed, Steve. I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life.”

It’s as if the oxygen was sucked out of the room instantly; Steve feels his heart sink as his breathing hitches in place. He can’t wrap his head around how terrifying that must’ve been for her. How terrifying it’d be for anyone.

“And, y’know, like a stubborn idiot, I tried hiding it from my dad, but that just earned me an ambulance trip and upsetting him more than I was trying to avoid to begin with. I didn’t want him to worry, but that backfired. He still worries so much, and maybe that’s ‘cause he’s— I- I don’t know, it sounds stupid, but I think he’s afraid to lose me the way he lost my mom.”

That would explain why Dr. Amato felt panicked enough to ask Steve to step in and check on Frankie. It explains why she’s so quick to shrug off her own pain.

“It’s not stupid at all, Frankie. He worries because he cares, it’s what parents do.”

Except mine.

Steve shoves that thought away, too; again, not the time. “So… what happened? What caused it? How— sorry, this is gonna sound ignorant, but how are you able to walk now?”

“Damn, Harrington, one question at a time.” She breaks into a faint smile, one that Steve is relieved to catch a glimpse of. “Myelitis. My spinal cord was inflamed, and that causes a whole fuck-ton of problems, like partial or full paralysis. My limbs would go numb sometimes, or tingle like when your foot falls asleep, but I couldn’t shake it off. Made my arms and legs weak, and the pain was a nightmare. I was lucky enough to get treated in time to make a decent recovery, but it’s why I still can’t control my hands sometimes,” She laughs with an eye roll, but it’s bitter and short, “Like when I dropped my damn coffee.”

Steve figures as much, but it comes full circle when he remembers a conversation he and Frankie had the first day they spent together.

“Do you just paint as a hobby?”

“I actually had plans to become a tattoo artist, did an apprenticeship and everything.”

He can still hear the disappointment and grief in her admission of giving up on a dream.

“Can’t really tattoo when you’ve got unpredictable hand tremors, though. S’why the paintings are such a wreck.”

Frankie finally opening up only makes that memory even more gut wrenching to think about.

“Is that why you couldn’t become a tattooist?”

She only nods, balling up the ends of her sleeves in her fists, squeezing the fabric in her palms roughly.

“Took months to recover, with a ton of physical therapy and IV treatments, since my meds weren’t working. I used a wheelchair for awhile, sometimes still do on my worst days… but things are— were going so well lately,” Frankie still won’t look at Steve, but even from what he can see, her stare grows distant as the memory tries to pull her out of the present. “My hair obviously grew back, and I can walk, most of the time with a cane, but it’s better than nothing. And I— there’s a lot of parts of me I don’t like showing, ‘cause I have scars from the sores. My skin’s all mottled and veiny. Looks aren’t everything, but it still sucks when you look bad on top of feeling bad. I was disgusted with myself every time I saw my reflection.”

That also breaks Steve’s heart; Frankie’s right, looks aren’t everything, but it certainly doesn’t help to watch your body drastically change out of your control while already chronically ill.

“If m’being honest, sometimes I still am,” She admits with her words cracking. “It’s hard to look at the damage my own body inflicted on itself and be okay with all of… that.”

Steve so badly wants to counter her beliefs with the truth before his eyes; Frankie is truly the most beautiful person he’s ever known. Yet, he doesn’t want to come off as if he’s romanticizing the situation, nor does he want to make it seem like he’s being nice, just to placate her self doubt.

“All of that was so hard to survive, even after the threat of paralysis, or death, were gone. I didn’t want to stay anymore, it was so hard to find joy in anything, or plan for a future I wasn’t sure was mine to begin with.” Finally, she turns on her side, gaze locking with Steve’s as she breaks; tears spill down her face as she curls into herself. “The few friends I had got sick of me being sick, eventually stopped talking to me. I was alone and afraid to try talking to anyone new.”

“What about Rhi and Cade?” This has been on his mind since Dr. Amato told Steve he’s the closest person to Frankie right now. “Aren’t they your friends?”

It’s a fractured smile, then a huff, “Kinda. Rhi’s busy with school, and Cade’s always with his boyfriend, so I never see either of them unless it’s getting coffee. At least there’s that, but growing apart because of life sucks. It’s just…everyone is busy, and I get it… but being alone for so long hurt. Hurt real bad. Probably why I came on so strong when I met you.”

“That wasn’t how I saw it. You have no clue how glad I am that you talked to me first.” Gingerly, he pushes stray hairs from her face, fingers trailing down to her cheek before resting his hand there. He sweeps his thumb along her cheekbone, really noticing the size difference between their hands as she wraps her hands around the one on his face. “I wanted to say something at the coffee shop, but it didn’t feel right with everything going on. You were also way too fucking cool for me to approach you first.”

Frankie giggles through her tears. “You’re just being a kiss-ass now.”

“Swear to god I’m not. You—“ He resists spilling the truth, watering it down to, “— you’re the best thing to happen to me in a long fuckin’ time, ‘Key.”

Her laughter and tears shedding evolve into steady crying, eyes screwing shut as she shudders a breath.

“I— god. I want you so much closer, Steve, but I’m so fucking scared.”

His heart skips a beat, and he’s dying to ask what that means, but she only cries harder. Steve winds his arms around her, gently, holding her once more.

Is Frankie scared he’ll leave? She’ll get “too sick” for him and he’ll walk away? Or maybe she’s scared something will happen to her, hurting Steve emotionally.

“You’re not going through this alone. Whatever happens, I’m right here with you. Nothing will change that.” He means every word. “You’re so important to me, ‘Key.”

She hiccups, face buried in his neck. “But what if I—“

“Frankie.” He pulls back to grab her face softly, eyes never leaving her own, despite how hard it hits to see her so broken. He’s unsure where it comes from, but he responds with his own vague confession, “When you’re ready, you tell me. Until then, I’m by your side as much as you allow. M’not going anywhere, not without you.”

Steve hopes, prays, wishes on some shooting star in a night sky somewhere above the world that they’re on the same page, that she’s saying what he thinks she means. That he’s saying what she wants to hear.

There’s no verbal response, no way to tell for sure they’re seeing eye to eye, just Frankie holding him tight with weak arms. She ducks her head back into his shoulder, body heat is still high; Steve’s bracing himself for the worst, but right now, he hopes she knows just how cared for and loved she is.

When Steve promised Frankie’s dad at his appointment that he’d do anything to keep her safe, and swore to her high above the city that she’s safe with him, he meant every fucking word.

As if Frankie can read his thoughts, she murmurs into his shoulder, “Safe with you.”

#steve harrington x fem!oc #series #hurt/comfort

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