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shdysders · 8 months ago

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last kiss

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: in which you and tara truly had your last kiss.

word count: 1.5k

author’s note: this song is fully based on last kiss by taylor swift. also sorry for bad update and shit writing, i’m currently not feeling motivated for it.

"I love you."

Those were the three words you had whispered into Tara's ear, with your soothing and mellifluous voice.

It had been late. 1:38 to be exact. You couldn't fall asleep, although you thought Tara was. Whispering in her ear and kissing her cheek, being completely unaware of the fact that she hadn't yet to doze off either.

She had tried her hardest not to let the huge smile spread across her face. You had whispered the words for just the two of you to know.

Later that night, Tara had opened her eyes, feeling the need to see your features once again before drifting off. You'd looked so tranquil, peaceful. Your face lit through the darkness like a radiant moon, casting a gentle glow all around.

You told Tara you loved her.

So why did you leave? Go away?

It was not until now Tara remembered the time when you had reunited with her after sixteen long weeks apart. The sixteen weeks of Tara's school semester, who had felt like an eternity.

She recalled the smell of the rain, the sound of the drops hitting the hood of her rain jacket, and the fresh downpour on the pavement.

You had stayed up the entire night, just to get to the airport just in time so Tara wouldn't have to wait when she landed. July ninth.

Tara had ran of the plane just to see you, sprinted towards you the second she saw your sneakers on the concrete floor of the arrival hall. She jumped onto you, embraced you in a bone crushing strength you didn't know she had.

She remembered the smell of your floral scented perfume in her nostrils, and the way she felt your heart jumping through the material of your hoodie. She could still feel your arms around her sometimes.

Now she didn't have anyone to sprint towards after she'd gotten off a plane.

The only way she could feel your smell now was when she wore your clothes, the garments that you had left at her house and then forgotten.

Tara put on your clothes almost every day, sitting on the floor of her room, letting the smell of the different fabrics bring her to a happier place; the memories with you.

She thought about how much she missed you all the time. Although she was unsure if you ever thought of her.

Tara felt unsure of everything. She didn't know if the split between the two of you was the cause of it, or if it was all of the betrayals from previous events. But she did know that the only thing she was certain of was that she didn't know how to be someone you missed.

She knew you didn't miss her, but that didn't stop her from trying to figure out how to get you to yearn for her. As much as she did for you.

Was the key to get a new partner? Or post stuff that showed she was happier than ever? What could possibly make you want her again?

Something else Tara thought about constantly, was your last kiss. The last kiss she never thought the two of you would have. She thought you would spent the rest of your life alongside one another.

She had never thought about her relationship with you ending nor taking a drastic turn, but when it did come across her mind one time, she'd never imagined that it would happen like this.

She never planned on kissing Chad.

It wasn't on purpose. Of course it wasn't.

She would never intentionally do something to hurt you. Never.

But she had done it anyway. She had tried to blame it on the alcohol that she had poured into her body minutes before, but she was very aware that wouldn't get her anywhere.

Because the truth was; Tara didn't have a reason behind it, not at all.

She had asked herself the question over and over again; why she had done it, knowing that was the first question you'd ask her when she told you. But she couldn't come up with a proper answer.

Tara had felt out of place for months. She had felt this longing for comfort and validation. She knew that if she talked to you about it and expressed how she felt, you would've erased that feeling. Oh how she wished she had went to you to begin with.

She didn't know why she didn't.

Tara knew she could trust you. She knew she could trust you like a lighthouse guiding her through stormy seas.

Yet her mind told her something was wrong. She was fighting a battle with herself at that point,

the internal battle being between what she knew was right and the temporary relief she sought.

She felt disgusted with herself for sleeping with Chad. They had known each other ever since birth, and she thought that might've ruined their friendship for all eternity, however that wasn't the relationship she was worried about ruining.

The relationship she was worried about destroying was with the person's name she had accidentally moaned out.

Your name.

It was always on her lips.

Even when she tried to enjoy herself with other men, all she could find herself thinking about was you.

You'd forever be the name on her lips, no matter how hard she tried.

As she looked back on your time together, she couldn't help but remember the swing of your step. The way you moved with such grace and confidence. Each stride carried a rhythm that seemed to match the beat of her heart.

You were the life of the party, always showing off, whether it was in beer pong or in dancing, you loved dancing. You would always pull Tara onto the dance floor just so she would join you, and she would roll her eyes for it.

Tara wasn't much for dancing, she'd never liked it and was never going to. But for you, she did dance. She danced like nobody was watching, and she never seemed to regret it, because it always made you beam with a smile.

She'd do anything to watch you smile. She'd do anything to be with you again.

Because she loved the way you greeted Sam with a gentle handshake whenever you joined them for dinner. She loved the way you walked with your hands in your pockets.

How you'd kiss her when she was in the middle of saying something. She'd always end up kissing back, and she never complained, yet she still called it rude interruptions, and there wasn't a day she didn't miss them.

She'd do anything to experience that again.

The only experiences with you she had now, was the ones she tried to relive with your clothes on her body. When she would sit on her floor, pressed into a corner of the four walled room, either sobbing or just thinking about you, and how she didn't know if you ever wasted a thought on her.

She was now watching your life in pictures as regularly as she used to watch you sleep.

You slept over at her house almost every night, and on every occasion Tara would lay in front of you for hours, just admiring your features and relaxed face. She never told you about it, but now she wished she did.

She could feel you starting to forget her, as often as she used to feel you breath. Whenever you embraced her as you slept, she made sure to keep count your breaths and the amount of seconds between them, like they were about to stop if she didn't count.

They never stopped. Luckily. But she stopped hearing them after she'd told you the truth. About what she had done with Chad. She never got to hug you again after that, or count your heartbeats.

Tara tried to keep up with your old mutual friends as often as she could, asking them how you were doing. She always received short answers, politely short answers.

She could tell they wanted nothing to do with her. Same as you wanted nothing to do with her, Chad or even Mindy.

You would occasionally greet Mindy in the corridors, never even bothering to look at Tara or Chad, which was understandable, but that didn't stop the jealousy from flooding through Tara's veins from the sight.

She hoped you were doing well. She hoped it was nice where you were. Wherever you were. Whoever you were with.

She hoped that some day, when the sun would shine and it'd be a beautiful day, that you'd be reminded of something about her, and that'd you wish you had stayed. For whatever reason.

She hoped that at some point, you'd think back to the last kiss you shared, that you would change your mind, and that you'd want to come back to her.

Just so everything could be the way it was. The way she ruined.

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #mabel x reader #melissa barrera x reader

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joejhang · 10 days ago

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nathaniel wesninski vs neil abram josten

something that fascinates me abt the aftg books is the nathaniel vs neil dichotomy. so i'm gonna analyse and dissect it like a completely normal and fine person. spoilers ahead !!! continue at ur own risk

i feel like the fandom has the wrong idea abt nathaniel and neil; they aren't foils, they're mirrors. they're a lot more similar than i think the fandom likes to acknowledge. and i actually don't think neil himself has too much of a problem with that.

allow me to elaborate. neil isn't scared of nathaniel, and nor is he very sensitive about his father. he actually references his father sometimes as a defence mechanism ("you think i'm afraid of your knife? i'm the butcher's son.") his feelings towards his father are, i'd say, deep-rooted fear and resentment. this has to extend somewhat to nathaniel, given how deeply entwined nathaniel wesninski is with both the butcher (neil's childhood abuser, the one person he truly fears) and mary hatford (also one of neil's abusers imo but their relationship is a lot more complex), both of whom neil says he doesn't want to become like. but he also says it might be inevitable that he is a little bit like them anyway (he's right).

i think this is how the fandom differentiates between nathaniel and neil; nathaniel is cold-blooded, ruthless, analytical, a criminal mastermind. nathaniel wesninski sealed the deal for his own survival with ichirou moriyama. nathaniel wesninski endured the torturous conditions in the baltimore house. nathaniel wesninski watched the butcher of baltimore brutally murder a man in front of him at ten years old in castle evermore. nathaniel wesninski followed his mother on the run for eight years, twenty-two cities, sixteen countries and hundreds of fake identities. nathaniel wesninski watched as his mother left bodies and sacrifices in their wake for their own survival. nathaniel wesninski orders hits on the people who have hurt the people he loves. more than once, others in the series note that neil will always be nathaniel wesninski at heart (ichirou, jean) and neil doesn't correct them.

neil josten, on the other hand, is scrappy and messy and impulsive. neil josten has sharply honed survival instincts that he throws away at the first chance of getting to live a real life. neil josten chose to stay at palmetto state university with the full knowledge that he would get himself and many others killed. neil josten clocked r*ko's shit on live tv and at the fall banquet. neil josten trusted a five foot nothing goalkeeper with his life for a year. neil josten saw the opportunity to do what he loved, even if it would kill him, and he took it. neil josten isn't afraid to run his mouth, be it to a teammate who overstepped or a reporter broadcasting on national tv. neil josten doesn't think about the past or the future but lives in the moment, all consequences be damned. neil josten gets to know and starts to care about the foxes even though he knows he shouldn't.

in short; nathaniel wesninski is ice all the way through, unapologetically the butcher and the bird's son, and neil josten is all fire, a young man and a runaway who chose living over survival and friends (family) over safety.

that's the dichotomy, but i actually think people don't realise that they're two sides of the same coin. i don't mean like "neil is nathaniel is nathan" i mean like neil chose to be neil josten, with full knowledge and agency, but that doesn't change that he was nathaniel first. in the fandom's declawing of neil, they forget that he's still the butcher's son, and he isn't afraid to show his teeth.

"neil josten" doesn't exist on his own. he is a product of neil's time with the foxes. neil says himself, at the beginning of the series, neil josten wasn't a person, just another identity that could be discarded at the drop of a hat. it was the foxes that made "neil josten" a real person. they pulled out from that facade the parts of neil that "no disguise could change". neil's character arc from the scared nobody at the beginning of tfc to the brave and happy young man at the end of tkm wouldn't have ever happened without the foxes' influence on his life. that pivotal narration change from neil to nathaniel in tkm is in a sense, neil shielding the foxes and the person he was around them from the cruel reality of his past. the identity of "nathaniel wesninski" is real and undeniable, already bloodstained from his brutal childhood, and untouched by the foxes, and so can't really be ruined by his father's hand (sweet mourning lamb, there is nothing you can do, it has already been done). everything that happened in baltimore, from the legal name change to neil and andrew's conversation in the car ("can i really be neil again?" "i told neil to stay. leave nathaniel buried in baltimore with his father.") is more of a decision to choose a new life than it is a new identity. "can i really be neil again?" is neil asking if he's really escaped his past and he can truly stay with the foxes and be who he was around them freely. and andrew's "leave nathaniel buried in baltimore with his father" is more of an assurance to let neil's bloody past go in favour for a new and better life.

note: "let go" does not mean forget or disregard or lose. it just means to accept it but move on. this is important i promise.

after that, neil is able to continue freely in his life. wait no he's not. ichirou comes to find him. right.

the neil and ichirou conversation is one of the most interesting in the series. it says a lot more about neil's character than people seem to notice. neil actively "switches" into the persona of nathaniel wesninski specifically for that conversation. something about how every word has to be true and it has to be the biggest lie he's ever told. neil's switch to nathaniel is a little jarring and a little uncanny. the way he speaks is pure business, coldly rational and disconcertingly subservient to ichirou (disconcerting because of how adamantly neil refused to submit to r*ko and testuji and even his father's people). but it's interesting because it's still neil josten speaking. the narration doesn't change, and the way neil talks is still very much himself, just honed and polished to suit the man ichirou thinks he's speaking to. ichirou wasn't looking for neil abram josten, starting striker for the psu foxes, he was looking for nathaniel wesninski, the only son of the butcher of baltimore. neil knew this, and knew he had a part to play and he plays it so easily it actually fucking works. he isn't even afraid of ichirou. everything he says and does in that scene is careful and thought-out and logic-based, but there is no fear. all of neil's fear in the aftg series quite literally is caused by his father, and can always be traced back to him. since nathan is dead at this point, neil isn't fearful of ichirou, just cautious.

the narration change in tsc is also notable. jean thinks of neil as nathaniel wesninski until the foxes beat the ravens and r*ko dies. this is significant because the idea of "nathaniel wesninski" is also deeply entwined with the perfect court. if neil had signed with the ravens he would've been nathaniel wesninski (03) not neil josten. but once r*ko is dead and once tetsuji steps down, the perfect court no longer exists, and neither does the phantom partner jean was clinging to all these years. there is no nathaniel wesninski (03), no forever partner for jean, even though he has nathaniel's auburn hair and ice-blue eyes and cruel smile, he doesn't have the mark of the perfect court anymore and r*ko and tetsuji aren't around to reinforce that delusion so for jean, now there is only neil josten.

still, he also says later on that neil is a wesninski at heart. neil doesn't really take this personally, from what we can tell. killing a rapist isn't something particular to neil or nathaniel, he would do it whether he was neil abam josten or nathaniel wesninski. but the method, the subtlety, writing the numbers on a napkin, handing them to his mobster uncle, that is such a nathaniel-characteristic thing to do that jean comments on it. neil might have problems with wearing his father's face and his father's smile, but he never denies the truth that he is a little like his father (referencing his hot temper), and he isn't hurt or offended by jean's comment.

this post is getting way too fucking long, even for me, so i won't go into the "abram" of it all, but just know there's something to be said about that, too. i just think the fandom takes the whole "leave nathaniel buried in baltimore" thing a little too literally. nathaniel isn't gone for good, he will always be a part of neil, but neil's accepted that and moved on. he's living his best life, doing what he loves with people he loves, and even tho he does act a little bit like a wesninski at times, he's come to terms with who he is and who he chose to be: neil abram josten.

#neil has so much flavour i love him #god this one really is long #read at ur own discretion #how much time u got #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #the sunshine court #tsc #andrew minyard #jean moreau #riko moriyama #nathan wesninski #mary hatford #nathaniel wesninski #zoe yaps #zoe yaps a LOT this time

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christinesficrecs · 1 year ago

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These are also very classic but I feel like they're a little more well known. If you managed to miss it, Bones Straining is THE fic to read, followed closely by Reach Out. Also, forgot about this ficlet if you're up for a tiny bit of angst.

The Time Traveler’s Prerogative | 9.2K | Explicit

After the events of “117”, Derek doesn’t magically transform back into his twenty-five-year-old body. Instead, he’s stuck as a sixteen-year-old for an unknown amount of time. So the pack has to learn to deal with it.

Reach Out | 20.2K | Explicit

In Which Stiles Falls in Love Twice…With the Same Person

Released (From Behind These Lines) | 15.9K | Explicit

Stiles was the first one. He doesn’t know how it started, what’s wrong with the house to make it like this, but he knows that he’s the first of them. The next one was Boyd, then Lydia, then Erica, and lastly, Isaac. It seems a habit, anyone who ever moves into the house leaves someone behind. But no one’s lived in the house for the last ten years.

Until Derek Hale.

See Me In Hindsight by weathervaanes, wishingonalightningbolt | 19.6K | Explicit

Stiles is 18 when he finds out exactly what’s going on in Beacon Hills. He has a few months left before he goes off to college, has a while to help Scott become the best werewolf he can be - and also to get into Derek Hale’s pants. And his heart.

Bones Straining Under the Weight | 15.6K | Explicit

One of Stiles’ favorite things about life is Derek Hale’s food blog. He never expects to meet the man in person.

JEALOUS ORCHARD, THE SKY IS FALLING | 5.8K

Stiles is away at UCLA for school. It may only be a few hours from Beacon Hills, but Derek still only visits every once in while. Suddenly, every time Derek even talks to Stiles, the boy just can’t help but bring up his new college BFF, Tara. When Derek visits, jealousy strikes. And make up sex ensues.

Can’t Be Saved (Not So Frail) | 16.3K | Explicit

In which Kira is Derek’s ward, Stiles is Scott’s brother, and omega heat cycles are good for everyone.

This Kind of Luxe by horchatita394, weathervaanes, wishingonalightningbolt | 15.1K | Explicit

As they have for almost every US President since the 1910s, the Prime Minister and the royal head of their country pay a visit to the United States after inauguration. Which is why, when President Jonathan Stilinski is elected into office, Queen Talia Hale of Norland plans their trip.

For Love is Not Ours to Command | 18.5K | Explicit

Where Derek's skills at thinking on his feet mean that he and Stiles have to act. For the sake of Stiles' dad, of course, for the sake of the pack. No personal interest interference at all, whatsoever. Right.

Like Heaven Catching Lighting | 41.5K | Explicit

Prince Stiles of Cor has always known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he was never truly going to marry for love. Fighting it has only made it worse. Now, presented with a choice between two children of the Hale family of Ignis, Derek and Cora, he must make the decision to determine who will rule by his side. If only it were that simple.

Sweet Dreams 'til Sunbeams Find You | 9.2K | Mature

But that’s when it happens. Stiles is on a down stroke when Derek opens his mouth against Stiles’ neck and says, “What do you think about having kids?”

Whispers in the Dark | 6.9K | Explicit

Stiles Stilinski would call himself a starving artist except for the simple facts that he is neither starving, nor does he know anything about art (unless you consider a novelist an artist, which Stiles only does sometimes). So when his best friend insists he accompany him to a show in the city, Stiles thinks it will probably be the most boring evening of his life.

Enter Derek.

#sterek fics #sterek #ficrecs #fanfic writers #sterek fandom #author appreciation #author spotlight #weathervaanes

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save-the-villainous-cat · 1 year ago

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Hey, I love ur writing so much!! Idk if ur interested in continuation requestions but if you are I'd love to see a continuation of the insomniac hero/villain with sleep powers? Maybe the sleep powers take effect immediately so villain makes sure hero is all ready and comfy in bed first? Maybe villain is still there when hero wakes up? Idk just some thoughts! The first part was so beautifully written it's really stuck in my brain

pt. 1

"Lay down," the villain said. They had been right with their secret assumption - the hero had barely eaten anything either. They had made a quick dinner and had helped them get ready for bed.

It wasn't like they cared. Obviously that wasn't the case. They did this because their sidekicks were friends...

"You're pretty patient with me," the hero said. They took their shirt off and the villain's face turned red. Immediately, they looked at the floor, trying not to be embarrassed. "I appreciate that."

"Well- It's...sleep is important." The villain gathered their thoughts. They weren't sixteen anymore. They couldn't possibly blush because of a shirtless hero.

"I think I need to get my ass kicked every once in a while. Not in the literal sense. I mean, sometimes I think I need someone to tell me what to do. To grab my shoulders and shake me until I realise that I'm wrong."

"You're stubborn, that's alright." I can deal with stubborn. The villain cleared their throat and allowed themselves to look at the hero again.

"I probably would have looked through those files until morning." The hero laughed and the villain could feel a weird twist in their chest. It twisted further and further, the more they looked at the hero. "Can you forget how to rest? Is that a thing?"

They let themselves sink into their bed and the villain finally found the courage to approach them.

"I think you can forget to take care of yourself. Especially when you put everyone else's needs above your own."

"I am a hero, that's what I do. It's my destiny. I was born to do this..."

"You weren't born to destroy yourself." The villain sat down on the bed. "Now stop stalling."

The hero smirked sleepily.

"You do care," they said and the villain wasn't sure if they could fight these allegations any longer.

"You talk to much." They tugged the hero into bed and suddenly, that overwhelming feeling of being embarrassed came over them again. If I could, they thought, if I could put my life into their hands, I would.

The hero's dedication was something they admired and yet they felt jealousy rise in their throat. They wanted that dedication, too. They wanted the hero to put as much time into their fights as they put time into working for the city. But they also knew they couldn't force the hero.

"Time for bed," they said. They summoned their powers but before they could make the hero fall asleep, their enemy grabbed the villain's hand.

"Please stay if you can," they whispered. "You don't have to but...if you want to, please...I think you're the only one I'd allow to help me."

And then the answer came quite softly, "Of course."

The villain stayed until the hero woke up. In total, the hero slept for eleven hours.

#writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroes and villains #hero #villain #heroxvillain #hero x villain #request #an answer for an ask #cont'd

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ineffabildaddy · 1 year ago

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on today's episode of understanding good omens through my own life:

a story about my ineffable inevitable queer teenage experience with an intense, volatile, fiercely affectionate 'friendship' that was definitely not just a friendship in retrospect.

when i was eleven, i started secondary school, and i met a girl who quickly became my best friend (i'm a trans man, and i also understood myself as a girl at the time. i still understand myself as a girl at that time). we became known as a unit because we couldn't get enough of each other, and we did absolutely everything together.

on the first day of our second year, we saw each other for the first time in several weeks because she had been away in her home country that summer. i had been counting down the seconds until she came back. when she was in the process of giving out souvenirs from her trip to all our friends, she waited until she saw i was alone and approached me. she handed me a ziploc bag full of shells and rock fragments.

"i picked these out for you at the beach," she said.

i thanked her and asked her to show me the bags of shells she'd made up for the others.

"i didn't do this for the others. i only did it for you," she responded, and walked away.

i had never felt anything like what i felt in that moment, and i haven't since. i was a lonely kid, especially before that age. what i mean to say is... no one had ever done anything just for me. no one had ever thought of me when i wasn't there; no one had ever taken the time to give me something that they had so carefully picked out; no one had ever stated with such conviction, in what was said or what was unsaid, that what they had done for me was not to be enjoyed by anyone else.

i like to remember this when i try to understand this moment in good omens:

i can't begin to comprehend what aziraphale must have felt in that moment, but remembering that day of my own life is the closest thing i've got.

mere months after that day, we started to argue. we had a huge falling out. i told her that no one on earth was capable of hurting me quite like she was (thirteen year-old me, in her own twisted way, thought that was a compliment). she told me in no uncertain terms that she couldn't stand me. we stopped talking.

a few months after that, we reconciled and we became closer than ever, but that tension, that unrest, was always lying under the surface, just waiting to gnash its teeth - and sometimes it did. these were also the years in which we were discovering our queer identities, and it took us a long time to really understand each other's journeys in that regard.

at sixteen, we both left our school and moved to a different institution till we graduated at eighteen. though we were at the same sixth form college, we just had different lives and didn't hang out anymore, though we remained on good terms. now, we text every once in a while, and we always say we'll meet up, but we never do. in october of last year, i bumped into her for the first time in maybe four years while coming home from a pavement gig. she was sitting on the doorstep of her parents' place with a roll-up cigarette. it was like no time had passed.

looking back, i can say with full confidence that i was in love with her. i do not know how else to understand our relationship. she drove me up the wall the way she did because i had never felt anything like what i felt for her for anyone else - and i haven't to this day.

even now, every time she is even mentioned in conversation, i dream about her the night following. and i still have those shells, hidden away in a wooden box i've never shown anyone; it's not too far from the shoebox that contains every note she ever passed me, every doodle she ever drew for me, every card she ever wrote me. in other words, i was permanently altered by our relationship, and her absence from my life has never diminished that. the same can naturally be said of crowley and aziraphale, to a much, much greater extent. i relive my memories of us because they help me understand many things about myself and others, and i've recently found that good omens has encouraged this.

this ended up longer than i intended but i hope you got something out of it.<3

#good omens #personal #ineffabildaddy #1941

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foreludes · 1 year ago

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Blood on the Side of the Mountain

pairing: young!coriolanus x reader

summary: coriolanus snow, a man known for his charm, his wit, and his passion for power, meets a talented artist in the capitol. she spends most of her days painting portraits for prominent figures and finds herself painting one for none other than coriolanus snow himself. through all the ups and downs, will coriolanus and the artist be able to defy all odds? or is this so-called love merely another version of control and a means to a devastating ending?

word count: 1,960

warnings: mild sexual content

chapter 4: there’s snow falling over the city

The next couple of days were a whirlwind. You had finished Coriolanus’ portrait but he still wanted you there. You had barely spent any time at home in the past couple of days and your apartment began to feel less like yours and more like a place where you just laid your head and kept your stuff. Throughout the days, you learned a lot about Coriolanus. You learned that he was a perfectionist, that he was sometimes too honest, and that he was used to getting what he wanted. But you didn’t know anything about his past, you didn’t really know him like you wanted to. He had this tough exterior that was so hard to crack and sometimes you wondered if you ever really would know him and how long he would want to know you. You spent a good amount of time at the president’s mansion and Coriolanus would often tell you to cancel your appointments with promises he would cover whatever money you lost in the process. You decided to take a week off, something you never did, but it felt like you had to. Coriolanus wanted you by him almost at all times, besides when he had to do something important. You had to convince him to let you go home at night, you weren’t in a relationship, and sleeping with him when you’d only met him a couple days ago didn’t feel right. And don’t get me wrong, you wanted to, but you had to have self-control.

The last time you were in a serious relationship was when you were sixteen years old. It was with a boy who was the son of your father’s business partner. you fell hard and fast for him, it was an intense relationship. And in the end, he didn’t want you anymore. You were scared that the same revelation would happen with Coriolanus. it wasn’t a fear that caused you to run away from commitment or caused you to close yourself off emotionally, but it made you cautious. This experience had made it harder for you to love, made it harder for you to trust. But Coriolanus didn’t really seem to care about love. He cared about other things way before that, and that kind of brought you comfort. You felt like he didn’t expect so much from you so soon, even though it seemed like his every waking minute had to be with you.

Right now, you were sitting with him in the same room you had first had lunch with him. but this time it was different. There was tension in the room and you could feel it. You looked at Coriolanus, his blue eyes were like pools, frozen pools. they seemed to pierce through the facade of his carefully crafted exterior. They seemed to harbor complexity and hidden turmoil, something you hadn’t noticed about him before. “There’s a gala tonight,” he finally said and his hand reached out to rest around the glass that was placed in front of him. You were hoping you’d be able to paint tonight, something you hadn’t gotten to really do in the last couple of days. But it seemed like that wouldn’t be happening and a feeling of sadness crept into your mind. “I was hoping I’d be able to paint tonight,” Coriolanus shook his head, just like you thought, he always got everything he wanted. And although you were beginning to feel things for him that you had really never felt with anyone else, you still began to also feel the control that he had over everyone else settle onto you. “I don’t believe there’s anyone more fitting than you to accompany me,” he voiced as he began to tap his finger against the glass in front of him. You nodded your head slowly and gulped, this was just another way that Coriolanus kept you next to him, and you couldn’t refuse.

As the sun dipped below the glistening spires of the Capitol, Coriolanus’ staff began to dress you in something you never expected to see yourself in. This gown was meant to be worn by the elite of the Capitol, it was telling. It was a work of art in terms of grace, a sophisticated symphony of material and design. Delicate lace with complex patterns that told a tale of timeless charm graced the bodice. The sweetheart-shaped neckline, with its subtle and elegant details, suggested modesty as well as allure. The waist of the gown was seamlessly clinched to your waistline and it cascaded into a voluminous skirt of some of the Capitol’s finest satin. The fabric itself was a rich shade of blue, a color that you had recently learned was one of Coriolanus’ favorite colors. The back of the dress was open, allowing the subtle shimmer of the straps to contrast with your skin tone, making the dress all around look polished and regal. On your feet were heels, and you had barely ever worn heels. The last time you had worn heels was when you were fifteen at the academy’s semi-formal that you had been invited to by your ex-boyfriend. They were beautiful heels however, a silver color that pulled all the qualities of the dress together and made the look almost enchanting.

Conveniently, the gala was to be held at the President’s mansion, which meant there was no traveling that needed to be done. The gala was being held to celebrate the Capitol’s opulence and probably to commend Coriolanus’ sacrifices when it came to his dedicated work for the Hunger Games. You walked out of the fitting room that was on the second floor of the mansion, the hallways were empty, but you could hear the music coming from the back of the mansion. You could also see the lights, a mix of different hues, piercing through the upstairs windows. To say you were nervous was an understatement. Who would be attending this gala? Only the best of the best were probably invited. Meaning that you would be the only one deemed to be less fortunate than the rest. You wondered if people would be surprised by your attendance if they would whisper about you behind your back and pretend you didn’t hear it. You wondered if people would judge Coriolanus for being with someone who didn’t necessarily give him leverage in the Capitol. Finally, as you reached the end of the hallway, ready to descend down the stairs, you heard the door open. It was Coriolanus, he looked better than you had ever seen him before. You began to feel that warm feeling in your stomach that you had felt a couple days prior begin to creep up on you again. You hated that feeling because you had absolutely no idea what to do about it. Coriolanus was wearing a suit that was a testament to his refined taste. The jacket, just like your dress, was a midnight blue. The lapels, adorned with a subtle sheen, framed his chest with such elegance. The jacket fit him perfectly, accentuating his silhouette, making it almost impossible to turn away. The entire outfit was perfectly tailored to fit his every need, it was made for him. “Everyone’s waiting for me,” he stated, linking his arm with yours as he directed you down the stairs. The nervousness you had felt in your chest prior was beginning to become more prevalent. You had no choice but to show your face though, there was no running and hiding to go paint anymore. This was your life now.

The President’s mansion had been decorated perfectly. Everything was where it should be, nothing out of place. To say it was impressive was an understatement. Coriolanus and yourself had already been introduced and it was practically impossible to ignore the whispers of the other attending guests as you walked towards the table that was adorned with all different kinds of food and drinks. You could feel the stares as you reached over and picked up a glass of a drink that had a pink hue. Before you could pick it up, a hand stopped you. You looked up about to protest when you saw your ex-boyfriend whom you had dated when you were sixteen. “You might not want to drink that,” he said with a smile. You hadn’t seen him in years, you were speechless. “It’s supposed to make you sick when you eat too much,” he said as he removed his hand from yours. “Oh.” That’s all you could say as you looked up at the boy, who was now a man, that you had once loved before. It made sense why he was here. His father had taken over your father’s business and made good money, leaving your family in the dark. You felt a mix of emotions, none too good. You hadn’t seen him since the night he had broken up with you. “It’s been a long time y/n,” he reminisced, looking down at you. “Yeah it has,” you agreed, picking up a water from the table. You wanted to drink, but it seemed like you weren’t having any luck with finding anything that would soothe you. You took a sip of the water and cleared your throat. "What are you doing here?" You asked, trying to find something to talk about. "My father was invited by President Snow. And it seems like you two are smitten," he retorted. You nodded your head, your eyes scanning the room for Coriolanus. And then you saw him. He looked upset, angry even. He was talking to an older man, someone you figured was important. But it seemed like he was fixated on you. You began to get nervous again, you had never seen Coriolanus angry before. Your eyes moved back to the man in front of you as you began to speak, "Yeah, you could say that," you answered as you brought the water up to your lips to take another sip. Before you could do so, you felt a strong grip on your waist. It was Coriolanus, and he wasn't happy. You watched as Coriolanus gave your ex-boyfriend the most condescending smile you had ever seen. "Excuse us," he said briefly as he led you towards the inside of the mansion.

The mansion was practically empty since everybody was enjoying the gala outside. The only voices you could hear were miscellaneous staff members who were further away in the home. Coriolanus led you into a hallway way that was dark, barely lit by any lights at all. You began to speak, but before you could you were slammed against the wall. The air you had in your lungs felt like it was being pushed out of you all in one second. "Coriolanus, I-" Before you could speak, a hand wrapped around your throat. You had never been touched like this before and that warm feeling you had in your stomach hours earlier began to find its way into your body again. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to see the woman you're with talking to another man in front of everyone?" Coriolanus' voice was rough, it was different than the usual kindness that seeped from his every word. "It wasn't like that," you pleaded, as you stared into the eyes of the man in front of you. Coriolanus' grip got tighter around your throat as your eyes began to water, you couldn't tell if you were scared or enjoying this occasion. "Oh, it wasn't like that?" He stated condescendingly. The hand that wasn't around your throat began to slowly lift your dress up and move furtively underneath. You drew in a breath of air, the touch of his cold fingers startling you. "We'll have to make sure it wasn't."

Hello! Thank you for reading chapter 4, I'm so sorry for the delay. The next chapter is going to be a little bit spicier, so stay tuned! I will try to get the next chapter out in the next couple of days. It is finals week for me, so bear with me.

tag list:

@bambikitten

@pepperanddsprayy

@andwhatofthelight

#coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #snow x reader #coriolanus x you #tom blyth #the hunger games

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soraya-snape · 2 months ago

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Harry Potter characters/ships and the Taylor Swift song that reminds me of them:

Tedoire

She said, I was seven and you were nine

2 years age gap just like Teddy and Vicky

I dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried Just two kids, you and I

Vicky and Teddy growing up together because through Harry, Teddy is part of the Weasley family and Vicky developing a crush on Teddy but him only seeing het as a little sister

Well, I was sixtWell, I was sixteen when suddenly I wasn't that little girl you used to see But your eyes still shined like pretty lights

And then Teddy suddenly not seing her as a little sister but falling in love and them getting together when Vicky is 16 or 17

And our daddies used to joke about the two of us They never believed we'd really fall in love And our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes And said oh my my my

This is so Bill + Harry and Fleur + Andromeda/Ginny

Take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle Our whole town came and our mamas cried You said I do and I did too

Just imagine Fleur and Andromeda as well as Molly and Ginny crying at Teddy's and Vicky's wedding and the whole weasley family being there for the first Weasley grandkids wedding

Newtina

But something happened, I heard him laughing I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent They say home is where the heart is But that's not where mine lives

Their first meeting was so chaotic but also cute

He likes my American smile Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you

The way they acted in the second movie when newt talks about her eyes being like the ones of salamanders, they were so akward and I love it

So I guess all the rumors are true You know I love a London boy Boy, I fancy you (ooh)

I mean everyone else saw that they like each other before they did

They say home is where the heart is But God, I love the English You know I love a London boy

My American girl and her London boy

Just wanna be with you Wanna be with you Stick with me, I'm your queen

This is so them, they literally can't be without the other

Snily

Please picture me

Please picture me In the trees I hit my peak at seven feet In the swing Over the creek I was too scared to jump in But I, I was high in the sky

This reminds me so much of the first memory Harry sees in the prince's tale. Lily actually did jump

Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you Your braids like a pattern Love you to the moon and to Saturn

Sev loving Lily even years after she died...

And I've been meaning to tell you I think your house is haunted Your dad is always mad and that must be why And I think you should come live with Me and we can be pirates Then you won't have to cry Or hide in the closet

Sev's father being abusive towards him and his mum and him hoping it will all be better in Hogwarts together with Lily (it wouldn't be)

Passed down like folk songs Our love lasts so long

Sev "passing" down his love for Lily and protecting Harry for her

Tedromeda

I just learned these people only raise you to cage you Sarahs and Hannahs in their Sunday best Clutching their pearls, sighing "What a mess" I just learned these people try and save you ... cause they hate you

This is so Andromeda being raised in the Black houshold and Bellatrix and Narzissa as well as the rest disapproving of her love for Ted

They slammed the door on my whole world The one thing I wanted

She loved Ted so much

Now I'm running with my dress unbuttoned Screaming "But Daddy I love him!" I'm having his baby No, I'm not, but you should see your faces

Just imagine Andy telling her father she loved Ted for the first time, Ariel style. And she was actually having his baby.

Dutiful daughter, all my plans were laid Tendrils tucked into a woven braid Growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all He was chaos, he was revelry Bedroom eyes like a remedy Soon enough the elders had convened Down at the city hall "Stay away from her"

Again so much Andy being raised as a Black and Ted just coming into her life with his "bedroom eyes" and everyone in her family disapproving but her going against the whole Black family becuase he is the one for her.

Thinking it can change the beat Of my heart when he touches me And counteract the chemistry And undo the destiny

Nothing could change her love for him

Now I'm dancing in my dress in the sun and Even my daddy just loves him I'm his lady, and oh my God You should see your faces Time, doesn't it give some perspective No, you can't come to the wedding I know he's crazy but he's the one I want

Her dad did in fact not love him so I actually don't know who came to their wedding but I still think it was a perfect

Romione

And in a blink of a crinkling eye I'm sinking, our fingers entwined Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me I'll drink what you think, and I'm high From smoking your jokes all damn night The brink of a wrinkle in time Bittersweet sixteen suddenly

This is so Romione and you can't tell me otherwise. Just remember the first time he saw her...

Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? (Kill me) It's just a game, but really (really) I'm bettin' on all three for us two (all three)

Ron did all 3. I mean he obviously did not actually kill Hermione but I think in 6th year he got close.

Truth, dare, spin bottles You know how to ball, I know Aristotle

No explanation needed

I feel like laughing in the middle of practice Do that impression you did of your dad again I'm hearing voices like a madman

Reminds me of the moments in the movies where Ron made her laugh

I'm going to add more...

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always-coffee · 1 year ago

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Thank you

I think we fall a little bit in love a million times a day.

The way the light falls like fading starlight. The first sip of a hot beverage on a cold morning. The silly thing our dog or cat did. Or child. The way someone laughs. Old friends. New friends. That spark of connection, wherever it begins and wherever it may lead.

There is so much beauty in the world. And so much magick. It’s easy to overlook it or dismiss it as ordinary. But there’s nothing ordinary about the thing that light us up, that make the dark diminish. And I am constantly seeking out what shines, where I find it or create it. We are all meant to be lighthouses, in the end. I believe that.

Yesterday, I made a choice to let go of the idea of something and embrace what is. Sometimes, that can be hard to do, whether it’s intentional or not. But we are often so full of longing that it won’t fit into words. And we are, in one way or another, often chasing after one spark or another. Because it’s the light that matters. That makes the darkness into something less. And there are so many ways we accomplish that for ourselves and for each other.

I think connection is one of the most important things in life. The marrow of it. It’s the whole point of this mad world. I have friends living all across the globe. I have visited some of them, but not nearly enough. If you had told that to sixteen year old me, I would’ve thought you were daft. But it’s the truth. And I know the internet can be vile, but it has also made the world into a kind of cocktail bar with books. And I love that.

I have been privileged to make incredible friends. Those friends have supported me when I needed it, cheered me on, given me advice, made me laugh, held space for me when I’ve cried—often from the bigger-on-the-inside space within my phone. Pocket friends.

I’ve said this elsewhere, but if you have supported my poetry in some way—reading it, sharing it, telling me what it meant to you—thank you. It means more to me than I can articulate, but I am grateful. And, well, ’tis the season and all that.

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 7 months ago

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From Hell to Home to Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

Warning: Billy Hargrove deserves his own warning, but there's also harassment and assault.

@emen-98 @1lostsoul0fishbowl @vulpixsworld

Prologue . . . Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

The summer quickly faded into fall, and it was soon time for them to go back to school. Keeping her powers a secret from Hopper had been difficult, and it almost seemed like he suspected they were all keeping something from him. He stopped asking her when she mentioned that it seemed like he was hiding something from them as well, but she wasn't going to bring it up to the others. . .unless she was provoked. He shut up after that. Nancy and Steve seemed more distant than ever as it got closer to a year since it all went down. The nightmares for Chrissy were getting worse, and it was getting harder to push her powers away. Once she had opened that door, it was difficult to close it again. The good thing that did happen was that Jonathan finally came out to the group. Joyce was also dating someone, and though Chrissy liked Bob, she had wished that Hopper had gotten his head out of his ass.

"The new guy hit on me again," Heather said as she plopped down at the lunch table.

"Too bad you can't explain to him that you're a lesbian," Eddie said.

Unfortunately, no one outside of their growing friend group would understand. It was nice having them around, having each other like a protective wall that blocked out all the people who would hate them for their sexuality alone. It was like their own little world, sometimes. The only ones who remained ambivalent were Nancy and Gareth, now. Chrissy had been surprised when Heather started to sit at their table on the first day of school, even more surprised that her ex-girlfriend and her boyfriend got along pretty well. She was pretty happy about it, though, especially since it meant that she could see more of Heather now.

"No, I'm pretty sure that it would only encourage him further," Heather said, frowning. "Even if I weren't a lesbian, which thankfully I am, I wouldn't say yes to him if someone was holding a gun to my head."

"The only thing good about him is his car," Eddie said.

"Someone needs to explain to him that the way to a girl's heart is to not call her a fat cow when she rejects you," Heather scowled.

"What an asshole. You know, he looks like he would be hot, and then he opens his mouth, ruining the whole thing," Steve said. "His whole personality makes him look ugly."

"So, you would not leave Nancy for Billy Hargrove?" Eddie asked, teasing him.

"I'd rather run off with you," Steve scoffed.

"Baby, that can be arranged," Eddie said, winking at him.

"Shut up," Steve said, stuffing a spoonful of applesauce into Eddie's mouth.

Jeff scowled and slammed the tray on the cafeteria table as Gareth and Frankie, the new addition to Corroded Coffin as well as Hellfire, sat down with him. He was pretty nice so far, a little blunt but nice. Frankie was pretty nice about their sexuality too, so he had that going for him.

"Well, I was thinking the new guy was hot and maybe played for our team, but then he opened his racist ass mouth. Do they not understand that being racist makes you unattractive?" Jeff said.

"What the hell did he say to you?" Steve asked with a scowl.

"He made it clear that he didn't want to see people like me in his line of sight," Jeff said. "He didn't even look at Gareth. Looked straight at me."

"What a dick!" Chrissy exclaimed as everyone groaned.

"Who's a dick?" Robin asked as she sat down with her sister.

"The new guy, Hargrove," Steve explained. "He's racist. Misogynistic, too."

"Aw, man, I was just admiring his car," Robin said. "Oooh, let's steal it."

"Let's not," Nancy said.

"She never let's me do anything," Robin frowned. "Sometimes I really do wish we were the type of twins who did everything together."

"I'm willing to do almost anything with you. . .within reason. I am not committing grand theft auto with you," Nancy said.

"Sharing a womb together gets me nowhere," Robin said. "We could be badass bandit twins, Nance. Think of the possibilities."

"I am thinking of the possibilities, that's why I'm saying no," Nancy said.

"How about we just curse him?" Chrissy giggled.

"Right, I forgot we decided to be witches! I think he needs to stub something other than his pinky toe," Robin said.

"Especially for calling Heather a fat cow," Chrissy said, scowling, and Robin gasped. "And being racist towards our beautiful Jeff."

"You guys really want to annoy him, put water in his gas tank," Eddie said.

"Let's do it!" Chrissy exclaimed and then looked at Nancy. "Give Steve your radio. I have mine. Let us know when he leaves the cafeteria."

"God, if I wasn't gay and Eddie wasn't my best friend. . .," Jeff said.

"Baby, no, I was joking," Eddie said.

"Besides, I think he gives his little sister a ride home, and he seems like an angry man. . .wouldn't want him to take it out on her," Gareth said.

"Shit, that's true," Chrissy frowned. "You guys going to Tina's Halloween party?"

"I kind of have to for reasons that I'm not going to say," Heather blushed.

Chrissy smiled, knowing exactly what she was talking about. She always suspected it of Tina, but she never said her suspicions outloud, nor would she. She'd let Heather and Tina keep their secret. Finally, Argyle and Jonathan showed up to the table, looking distinctly disheveled.

"You guys get lost again? Did you somehow find yourselves in a broom closet?" Steve asked.

"Oh, yeah, man. It's become a real problem. They need to make a map for this school, you know?" Argyle said.

Everyone around the table laughed at them.

"I was just asking them if they were all going to Tina's Halloween party on Wednesday," Chrissy said.

"Oh, yeah, definitely. Me and Jonathan decided not to wear costumes, though," Argyle said. "We couldn't decide on one, mostly because it would be hard to dance in a giant homemade weed costume."

"Aww, and Jonathan really wants to dance with you," Chrissy said.

"Yeah, so what?" Jonathan blushed, the corner of his lips turning up.

"Chrissy and I are definitely going to be there. Who would have thought that I, Eddie Munson, would ever want to go to a high school party?" Eddie grinned.

"He's really excited about our costumes," Chrissy grinned.

"Which are?" Steve asked.

"Well, that would ruin the surprise, Steven," Eddie replied. "You gotta be there to see it."

"We're definitely going to be there," Nancy said.

"Hey, am I dropping you off at work again?" Eddie asked Chrissy.

Surfer Boy Pizza was officially up and running. Of course, Argyle's dad was the first one to offer her job, which Chrissy happily accepted. They had been true to their word and kept it to how Benny had wanted it to be. Everything was just updated, freshly painted with their own touch thrown in. It quickly became the new hangout place. It amused everyone to know that there was a place called Surfer Boy Pizza, and there wasn't actually any place to surf in Hawkins.

"Well, yeah, I agreed to work all weekend and today so I could have Tuesday and Wednesday off," Chrissy said.

"Hmm. . .why Tuesday? Whatever happens on a Tuesday, I wonder," Eddie said.

"You know what happens on a Tuesday, asshole," Chrissy said.

"Oh, yeah. That's right! Corroded Coffin will be performing at the Hideout for the first time in months! For Gareth and Frankie, the first time ever!" Eddie hollered.

"And I am not going to miss that," Chrissy said. "You looking forward to it, Gareth?"

"Hell yeah! I never really played on a stage before," Gareth exclaimed.

"Well, I would hardly call it a stage," Jeff said.

"Is he going to be able to get in?" Steve asked.

"Bev's served us before, Steve, I don't think she's going to care," Chrissy said.

"That's true," Steve said.

As Chrissy chatted away with her friends, she felt a presence on the back of her neck. She scanned the cafeteria and located the person who was staring at her. She knew who it was immediately. The person they had been talking about just moments ago. Billy Hargrove. He was looking at her like she was something to eat. He was a predator, and she was his prey. It scared her. She's faced a demogorgon, another dimension, the death of one of her closet friends, and the death of a man she thought of like a father, but the look in this man's eyes scared her more than anything. He was dangerous, and judging by the way that many eyes gravitated towards him with a lustful gaze, he was a dangerous man who could draw a crowd. He was more dangerous than Tommy Hayes, the guy who had no problem wanting to murder Gareth. This was a man who probably skinned many cats when he was younger, and it worried her that many people were ignoring the look in his eyes because his pants were tight. Maybe she was overthinking it, though. . .

"Sweetheart?" Eddie asked softly and she turned back to look at him.

"I'm fine," Chrissy said, hoping one day she'll be able to say that to him and mean it.

She tried to put Hargrove out of her mind, but she couldn't seem to escape his gaze. Sometimes, it seemed like he was following her. She was doing everything she could do to keep her her powers in check when she was around him. Chrissy finally managed to get him out of her mind when she gathered in the library with Eddie, Steve, and Nancy on Wednesday to do their homework. They had been working together in silence for a while before Nancy and Steve disappeared. Chrissy had turned the page in her schoolbook and frowned.

"A page is missing in this book, I'm going to see if they have another one," Chrissy said.

Eddie hummed as he focused on his school work. She smiled. It was nice to see him actually trying this year. She gave the book to the front desk before moving down the aisle to find another copy. Chrissy was browsing the shelves when she felt a presence behind her. She didn't have to see him to know who it was. It was Billy. She felt him lean in and smell her.

"Hmm, I got a wiff of you the other day. My mom wore a similar perfume. . .hell, maybe it's the same perfume," Billy said.

Chrissy tried not to shudder, but she couldn't help it when she could feel his breath on her neck.

"I have a boyfriend, and I'm very happy with him," Chrissy said.

"Yeah, I've seen your boyfriend. . . Munson, right? Watched him at the Hideout last night. You wouldn't have seen me, too busy soaking your panties at the sight of him. They're good. . .no Motley Crue, though," Billy said.

"It's because they're better than them," Chrissy said.

That had been a stupid mistake on her part. Billy pressed himself up against her, trapping her between him and the bookshelf. He pushed her hair back and she let out a whimper at his unwelcome touch.

"You think your freak of a boyfriend is good. . .I can be better in every way possible. I'll have you screaming," Billy said, his lip next to her ear.

"Let me go," Chrissy said.

"Why? I'm enjoying myself," Billy said. "I've seen you walking in the hallway. . .that smile of yours. . . Reminds me of my mother. . .she had a smile that could light up the room."

"I'm guessing she's not around to see what a disappointment her son turned out to be," Chrissy said.

That was really stupid. Billy grabbed the back of her head, pulled on her hair, and pressed her face into the books.

"I could make it a really good experience or a really bad one. Take your pick," Bikky hissed in her ear.

"I think it was really stupid for you to mess with me," she said.

She didn't want to do this, but it was hard to control it once her defenses were up. She could feel it growing inside of her, and the lights started to flicker. She used her powers to push him away from her and into the other shelves. Chrissy turned around and went to leave when he grabbed her by the throat, holding her against the shelves as the blood trickled from her nose.

"So, the rumors are true. You are a witch," Billy glared at her. "What else can you do. . .witch?"

"Let her go," a voice called out.

Chrissy managed to turn her head and looked to see Jason standing at the end of the aisle.

"Jason Carver, the snitch. How's it going for you, ball boy?" Billy asked.

"Better than you if you don't get your fucking hands off her," Jason glared at her.

"Hm, does the witch have more than one dog on her leash?" Billy taunted. "Does he know about your little trick? Come on, Cunningham, show us."

"It's Henderson," she croaked.

Jason growled and threw himself at Billy. He ended up knocking both of them to the ground. Billy growled and kicked him off of him. He was about to hit Jason when the librarian came down the aisle.

"What is going on here?" She asked.

Billy smirked and looked down at Chrissy, who was sprawled on the floor.

"Oh, Chrissy here tripped and accidentally fell into us. We were just about to help her up, weren't we?" He asked.

He gave her a warning look. Fuck. He knew about her powers, but it's not like anyone would believe him, right? She couldn't take the risk.

"Yeah, I tripped. I'm so embarrassed," Chrissy said as she blinked away tears. "I'm such a klutz."

"Well, accidents happen," the librarian said.

Chrissy stood with the help of Jason and Billy. His hand wrapped around her arm, and it startled her how well he could make it look like he cared. The grip on her arm said otherwise. When the librarian left, Billy dropped the facade but still held onto her tightly. Jason glared at him. Billy laughed, dropped her arm, and walked away. Jason pulled a napkin out of his pocket and handed it to her. She quickly started wiping away the blood.

"Are you okay?" Jason asked.

"I will be," Chrissy said.

"I'm sorry, you know, if I ever scared you like that," Jason said softly.

"You were never that bad," Chrissy said.

"Yes, I was," Jason scoffed. "I'll see you around. I'm going to make sure he doesn't bother you again."

"You don't have to do that," Chrissy said.

"Yes, I do," Jason said and walked away with his hands in his pockets.

Chrissy watched him for a moment, wondering if he really had changed or if he was faking it like Billy just had. No, no, Jason had changed. He was changing. She went back to the table to find Steve and Nancy sitting back down, but Eddie was gone. Nancy was frowning, and Steve looked at her, worried.

"W-where's Eddie?" Chrissy asked, realizing now that was shaking.

"Uh, he's in the bathroom. Chrissy, what's wrong? You're pale and shaking," Nancy said.

"Uh, Billy, he, uh, followed me to the bookshelves. He came up behind me - I don't know what he wanted - well, I can guess. I reminded him of his mother, which is so creepy, and then he pressed me up against the bookshelves, and I couldn't - I couldn't get away, so I had to push him away with, you know so he knows. Jason also stopped him, but he didn't see what I did," Chrissy said, and that's when the tears came.

Nancy and Steve jumped up from the table to hug her.

"I'm going to fucking kill him," Steve said furiously.

"Get in line," Nancy said.

"It's nice when couples find things to do together," Chrissy mumbled, causing them both to laugh. "What are we going to do?"

"Don't worry about him saying anything. There's been a rumor going around since last year that you were a witch. If he does say anything, no one is going to believe him," Steve said.

"And we'll be around you 24/7," Nancy said.

"We all have different classes," Chrissy frowned as she pulled away.

"We'll figure it out," Nancy said.

"Are you sure you want to go tonight?" Eddie asked.

The four of them were getting ready in Nancy's room. Eddie nearly had a heart attack when he came back from the bathroom earlier and found out that Hargrove had hurt her. Neither Chrissy nor Eddie wanted to let go of each other after that. Nancy nearly had to pry them apart with a crowbar. Steve was working on slicking Eddie's hair back while Nancy worked on putting Chrissy's into a perfect ponytail.

"Yes! I want to party with my friends. . .with my boyfriend. I am not going to let some Tommy Lee wannabe asshole try and ruin that!" Chrissy exclaimed.

"That's the spirit, Chris," Steve said.

"God, have I told you lately how much I love you?" Eddie asked.

"All the time, but it's nice to hear," Chrissy grinned.

"My witch," Eddie cooed.

"My freak," Chrissy cooed back. "Lip hug!"

She leaned over and kissed him. Eddie giggled into the kiss.

"Oh my god! Just call it a kiss like a normal person!" Steve exclaimed, but he was smiling.

"You guys need to stop being so cute," Nancy said.

Robin burst into the room with her hands over her eyes.

"Is everyone decent?" Robin asked.

"Well, if you're talking about personality. . .no. If you're talking about clothing. . .also, no," Eddie said.

Robin sighed and took her hands off her eyes before flipping him off. Eddie laughed with Steve while Chrissy rolled her eyes with Nancy as they both tried not to laugh.

"I think it's pointless to ask you to knock on my door, isn't it?" Nancy asked her sister dryly.

"You're learning!" Robin grinned.

"Are you dressed up? I thought you weren't going to the party?" Nancy asked.

"Well, I figured since I had the Mickey Mouse shirt and the leather jacket, I figured I would go as Two Bit," Robin said.

"Oh, man, Ronnie would lose it if she was here. She loves the Outsiders. The book and the movie," Eddie said.

"Yeah, I know, that's why I was hoping someone would take a picture of me so I could send it to her," Robin said as she held up the Polaroid.

"I'll do it, lean against the door," Nancy said.

Robin leaned against the door frame. She took one where Robin was looking off in the distance, one where she was smiling at the camera, and then one where she blew kisses at the Polaroid. There was a fourth and last one where Eddie jumped into it, hugging Robin tightly as she rolled her eyes.

"Are you guys Sandy and Danny from Grease?" Robin asked Eddie, then turned to Chrissy. "You're not going to wear the leather get up from the end of the movie?"

"Yeah, no, Eddie hated that they did that. He wishes there was another scene where Sandy changed back at the end," Chrissy said. "But other than that, he loved the movie. I think he really just loves the songs, though, and he thinks John Travolta is hot."

"I do not think he's hot," Eddie blushed. "You know who I think is hot - ,"

"You're going to say Ozzy, which is true, but also, you think John Travolta is hot," Chrissy giggled.

"Fine! He's hot! Jesus H Christ!" Eddie said throwing up his hands.

"I'm guessing he doesn't like the makeover Ally Sheedy got in the Breakfast Club?" Robin asked.

"Nope!" Chrissy exclaimed.

"She was gorgeous before!" Eddie exclaimed, slamming his hands on Nancy's dresser. "Like I get changing a little bit but to do a complete turnaround! She was beautiful because she was wearing what she liked and her energy exuded that."

"He also thought Emilio Estevez was hot," Chrissy grinned.

"Chrissy! Stop telling everyone who I think is hot!" Eddie exclaimed. "Thank God, Jeff and Gareth decided not to go. I'd never hear the end of it."

"Molly Ringwald was pretty cute in that movie too," Robin said.

"She was," Chrissy agreed. "Everyone in that film was very attractive. Especially Bender."

"What about the principal?" Nancy asked.

"Oh, yeah, definitely. There's something about him that makes me want him to manhandle me a little," Eddie grinned.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Munson?" Steve laughed.

"Oh, so many things, big boy," Eddie said.

Once they went downstairs, Karen couldn't help but steal them for some pictures. Mike laughed at them on his way out the door with Dustin. Robin and Nancy willing indulged their mother, laughing as they gave it a little model flare.

"And Robin, what are you going to do if someone says something mean?" Ted asked.

"Make them wish their parents had used a condom," Robin said.

Karen turned to give her daughter a disapproving look.

"No, that's not what I was going to say. I was going to say walk away and ignore them," Ted said and winked at Robin.

"I saw that in the mirror, Ted!" Karen exclaimed.

"You saw what?"

"Ted!"

"Karen!"

Nancy shared a look with Robin as they watched their mother try not to laugh.

"Go on, kids," Karen said, rolling her eyes. "Have fun."

"Not too much fun. Robin, I sincerely hope that I don't have to report anything back to Ronnie," Ted said.

"It's weird that you talk so much with my girlfriend, Daddy-o," Robin said.

"Hey, it's not that much, and she left before I could give her the shovel talk," Ted said.

"Wait, he actually does that?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, yeah, it's hilarious," Steve said. "He sits you down to talk to you with an actual shovel, then he asks you if this is how the shovel talk is supposed to go."

"Yeah, I can totally see Ted doing some shit like that while holding a shovel," Eddie laughed.

"Oh, no. He gave me the shovel to hold," Steve said.

"You're hilarious, Ted!" Eddie hollered as Nancy and Chrissy pushed him out the door.

"Please, come again and convince my wife!" Ted yelled out the door.

"Ted!" Karen exclaimed, and then they heard her laughing.

When they arrived at the party, it was in full swing. Argyle and Jonathan met them outside, them being the first to arrive. True their word, they arrived in their normal attire. Argyle had hugged Chrissy tightly on sight, and she melted into his arms immediately. Argyle was a pretty mellow man, but she hasn't had the opportunity yet to see if he had a dark side or not. Jonathan claimed Argyle had cursed Billy out when they heard about the incident. . .or did he say he placed a curse on Billy? Chrissy just wanted to forget him, honestly, but of course, the universe had other plans. As soon as they walked into the house, they ran into the man immediately. Nancy automatically stood in front of Chrissy, glaring at Billy. Robin moved to stand next to her sister while Eddie wrapped his arm around her. Jonathan and Argyle stood next to her. Chrissy was surprised to see Tommy Hagan with Billy. Not even Tommy Hayes wanted to hang around Billy.

"You've got yourself a little army. . . Witch," Billy said, his eyes glinting.

"I prefer to call them friends. . .do you know that word? They're people who want to be around you without fearing for their life," Chrissy said.

"Very brave of you. . .how brave are you without your friends to protect you?" He taunted. "Without those special little tricks of yours? Hmm, does your boyfriend know about those? Judging by the look on his face, I'm guessing not. I know something about your girlfriend that you don't know, Munson."

"You're not going to find that out," Steve said coldly. "Fuck off."

Billy laughed and disappeared into the crowd with Hagan. Chrissy glared at his retreating back before pulling Eddie onto the dance floor. He spun her around, letting her long skirt flare out the way she liked it to be. He pulled her back and spun her right into his arms. He flashed his dimples when she giggled at him before pressing a harsh kiss to his lips.

"I know you're probably wondering what that was about. . .," Chrissy said as she pulled back. "With the tricks and all. . ."

"You ready to tell me about it?" Eddie asked.

"Well, no," Chrissy frowned.

"Then don't tell me," Eddie said. "You were patient with me, so I'm going to do the same. I'm curious as hell, but you're worth the wait."

"I fucking love you," Chrissy said with a gleeful smile. "Let's sneak into the bathroom and have sex!"

"I'm not having sex with you for the first time in a bathroom," Eddie chuckled.

"Fine," she pouted.

She couldn't help but smile when Eddie spun her around again. She giggled when he tried to let her do the same, but their height differences made it awkward. Chrissy rolled her eyes and spun him around without having to spin him under her arm. She ended up inadvertently spinning him into Steve, who caught him. She cackled when Eddie started to dance with him. Steve looked surprised for a moment before going with it and swinging him around wildly. Chrissy pulled a giggling Nancy to her and started dancing with her as well. She happily forgot about their problems for a moment, they could deal with them later but right now all she wanted to do was live in the moment with her friends. She spotted Robin being spun between Jonathan and Argyle. Robin was laughing so hard that Chrissy couldn't help but lean her head back and laugh as well.

"Eddie! Hands!" She heard Steve yell.

"Oops! Sorry, Steve! Sorry, Chrissy! My hands, they slipped."

Luckily, it was dark, and everyone else was too busy enjoying themselves to pay attention. Eventually, though, they returned their partners to the right person, and Chrissy found herself dancing with Eddie again. Chrissy twirled around when someone bumped into her with their drink, spilling it all over her. Chrissy groaned before pulling Eddie with her to the bathroom. Once they were there, Chrissy closed the door and pulled her cardigan off.

"Aw, it bled all the way through," Chrissy pouted. "Oh, well, while we're in here. . ."

Chrissy pressed him up against the door and captured her lips with his, her body filling with euphoria. Eddie grinned and cupped her face as he deepened the kiss. He pulled back and looked at her mischievously.

"You planned this, didn't you?" Eddie asked.

"If only. . ." Chrissy trailed off.

She kissed him again, her hands pressing against his stomach before moving up to his chest. She smirked as she slid her tongue into his mouth. To her delight, he moaned and cupped the back of her head, tugging her ponytail. This time, it was her turn to make a sound, and she hummed with pleasure. She slid her leg in between his and raised it so her knee was pressing against his crotch. Eddie growled and pulled back, yanking her ponytail back gently. His touch was very much wanted.

"Chrissy. . .we both agreed," Eddie said. "And after today, I don't think either one of us is ready. . .I mean, are you?"

"Well, no, and honestly, I do want to do it in a bed," Chrissy said. "God, I just look at you, and I want to devour you whole. . .it's scary sometimes."

"Yeah, and sometimes I want to crawl inside your skin. We're both freaks," Eddie said, and Chrissy giggled. "I think you need to cool down, though."

Chrissy squealed when he picked her up and carried her into the shower, closing the curtain.

"Edward Wayne, if you even think about turning on that water. . ." Chrissy warned.

"Relax, Christine Elizabeth, I would never," Eddie gasped. "Or would I?"

He jokingly reached for the knob and she slapped his chest, laughing. He froze and put his hand on her mouth when two people entered the bathroom. Eddie's eyes widened when they both realized it was Steve and Nancy. It sounded like Nancy had an accident herself. It also sounded like she was quite drunk. How long had Chrissy been kissing Eddie? Oh God, they should really leave. . .because it sounded like Nancy was going to say something that she didn't mean. It was too late, though. . .Fuck.

"Like we're in love?" Steve asked. "You don't love me?"

"It's bullshit."

Chrissy's heart broke for the both of them, and she could tell it hit Eddie, too. She knew that Nancy didn't mean it, but just because she was drunk doesn't make the words hurt any less. She wasn't sure how she would be able to handle it if Eddie told her it was their fault his best friend died. It would kill her, and it sounded like it was killing Steve. Tears welled up in her eyes along with Eddie's as they heard Steve storm out of the bathroom. A minute later, they heard Argyle and Jonathan coming in. Eddie and Chrissy immediately pulled back the curtain, causing a high pitch scream to spill out of Argyle.

"What - ?" He asked.

"Uh, Steve asked us to take Nancy home," Jonathan said in confusion.

"Eddie, quickly, go tend to Steve," Chrissy said. "We'll take Nancy back to my place."

Eddie didn't waste a second before running out of the room. Argyle picked Nancy up, and they left the party just as quickly as Eddie had. Luckily, when she got home, Claudia had been too distracted by whatever Dustin was showing her to notice Nancy being dragged in by Argyle. Although Chrissy was curious about how Dustin had managed to rig his Ghostbusters' costume up like that, she needed to take care of Nancy. Argyle set him on her bed, and he hovered by the bed with his boyfriend.

"It's okay, I've got this," Chrissy said softly.

"Are you sure?" Jonathan asked, looking at Nancy in concern.

"Yeah," she said. "Thank you."

"Anything for Nancy," Argyle said.

"Oh, I don't think Robin knew what happened. She just saw Steve run out. She followed him," Jonathan said.

"Oh, I completely forgot about Robin!" Chrissy gasped.

"It's alright, Lady Henderson, you had other things to worry about," Argyle said.

Chrissy hugged Argyle and then hugged Jonathan before shooing them out of her room. She grabbed some water and set it on the bedside table before closing her door. She took off Nancy's boots and then her clothes before cleaning her up. She put her pajamas on Nancy and then had her sit up to drink some water. Chrissy sat up on the bed to watch her for a while. Was it always going to be like this? Would they always be affected by what those assholes did? How could anyone have normal relationships? Steve and Nancy's situation was a little bit different, so much more complicated but just as awful.

She watched Nancy's eyes flutter close, and Chrissy laid down next to her. She wondered what was happening with Steve. Did Robin go with Steve to his house? Was Eddie there comforting him like she was doing for Nancy? Chrissy stroked Nancy's hair, and Nancy sighed. Robin would be there too, she thought. Chrissy's eyes started to close as she imagined Eddie and Robin hugging Steve on either side of him as they held him in bed, Steve sobbing into Eddie's chest. Chrissy shut her eyes tightly, hoping everything would be alright. Just as she was about to drift off to sleep, she heard Nancy gasp out a name.

"Steve. . ."

Chapter Eighteen

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corazondebeskar-reads · 1 year ago

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well it's love, make it hurt - chapter sixteen

well it's love, make it hurt series

sixteen: whoever I was then, I can't ever be again

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Words: 2.9k

Summary: You and Din have a serious conversation, kick some ass, and make some decisions.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, feelings, hint of d/s dynamics, they're workin' on it y'all, dry humping, thigh riding, groping, more about the Name Reveal, communication

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

9 ABY - Fall

Mando’s lead turns out to be at an incredibly shady fight club. Or, you suppose you should say Din’s lead. Which you’re still reeling from but have entered an apparent silent agreement not to mention again.

So what? He wanted you to know his name. It wasn’t a big deal, except how it made you want to burst into hysterics.

Years later, and he gives you his name like it’s not the most world-shattering thing. It’s fine, you can roll with it, you can pretend it’s fine. You avoid addressing him entirely to solve the issue. If you don’t try to say “Mando,” then you don’t have to try to fill it in with “Din.”

As you’re making this decision, you’re sitting beside him about two feet from the dueling Gammoreans. The whole thing is distasteful, even coming from someone who (sometimes) kills people for a living. They aren’t even really given a good opportunity to fight. The ring is small, and the weapons are unwieldy.

Mando’s—dank farrik—Din’s gloved hand brushes against the outside of your thigh as it drops to his side, and you immediately tune in to the conversation he’s having with Koresh. The instincts have lain dormant for five years, but prickle back in with no trouble. He wouldn’t accidentally touch you, and he certainly wasn’t trying anything right then. No, it was a signal.

Tense words about beskar pass between the men, and you pretend to watch the fight, ready to move as soon as the talk turns nasty.

You don’t have to wait long.

It’s distressingly beautiful. You had become better fighters in your time apart, but you fell back into each other’s rhythm like an old leather jacket. You’re innately aware of where the other will be and how you should act in accordance, and it’s nothing to take down the group.

It was the very thing you had spent the last thirty hours trying to avoid.

Being back on the Crest, even with the addition of the baby, was like haunting your dreams. The carved-out feeling of watching yourself make the same steps, touch the same controls, sit in the same seat. You refused to take the simple path—refused to reoccupy that body, that place, that time. It would have been so easy to rise in the morning and make him a cup of caf. To climb onto his lap in the cockpit. To settle back into the places your body knew you fit. Now that you had let it happen, let yourself fall back into sync with him? You weren’t sure how to stop it.

The buzz of your brain failed to quiet on the way back to the ship. Now, in the aftermath, the adrenaline high, you’re sweating, your body pulsing, and skin too tight. Your fingertips throb in time with your clit. His shoulders rise and fall with the effort of his breathing. You’re not sure when he got so close, but there’s barely an inch between you. If you took a deep breath, your breasts would brush up against his chest plate.

The tension is rich, sitting on your tongue like chocolate-covered berries. Your breathing is shallow, and his so deep. He’s coiled tight, but you don’t feel like prey. He’s waiting, you know. Waiting for you to move.

For the first time, you wish the helmet wasn’t there. You want to lunge at him and press your lips against his. To cleave and indulge in him as a delicacy, to dig your fingers in and pry him open until you can tear your atonement from his sinew.

But more than that, it’s the way five years have disappeared in the last hour. There’s none of the hurt, the distance, the grief. It’s just you and him, same as it ever was. Wound up after a fight, every molecule screaming for the other. Aching.

In the end, you both move. Somehow seamless, frequencies synching the way your chrono was still programmed into his ship. Something coded deep, something that would have to be intentionally removed from your bodies in order to forget the way you yearned, the way you knew the other would come apart.

Your hands are on his waist; his are pressing you against the wall of the hull, roaming, groping, claiming. When he hears your impatient whines, he rips his gloves off and slides his hands under your shirt, digging in like he might hold you there by sheer force.

He doesn’t have to. You aren’t going anywhere.

Your eyes are a little glazed, a little unfocused, as he grabs at whatever handfuls of flesh he can, his searing heat against yours. He moans when he cups your breasts, and your fingers tighten in his flightsuit. The pads of his fingers and palms are dry, and their gentle grit against your softness makes you feel alive.

He’s gentle, exploring to see if you still twitch and moan at the same motions, if you have any new sounds he can pry from you.

You do. He rubs both nipples with his thumbs, and you moan, burying your face in his cowl, and softly cry his name. His real one.

“Din, please,” you whimper. He jerks a little, grasping onto you and trying not to cum in his pants like a fucking teenager. His name has never sounded so sweet.

You hadn’t said it before. Not that night when he told you, not any of the minutes in between.

When Gideon spoke his name in front of the crowd of his allies and enemies, it was a jagged saw into his ribcage, splitting him open like a butterfly. His secrets spilling from his chest.

But the worst part was the injustice of it all.

It should have been you.

He had almost told you so many times over that last month. Wanted to hear it spill from your lips when you came, wanted to hear it whispered as you fell asleep, wanted to hear it when you playfully chastised him over a quip.

You asked why, of course, why now? He could see the walls going up, the way you were pulling back, arms folding across your chest. A silent accusation thrown onto the table between you, a conscious effort to fight against the instinct to trust him.

So he told you. Everything. The fury at Gideon stealing that from him, not just his privacy, but the gift of it. The way it was always supposed to be you, you first, only you. Yours. His to give you, yours to take. To keep. To know in your heart. How no matter what happened next, it had been yours to have all along.

You wanted to strike out, to sink teeth into where he was bleeding himself out for you. To stoke the long-simmering anger that had never left you, that had helped you survive the last five years. But when you opened your mouth, it was gone. It slipped out on a sigh, a heavy, weary thing that spread through you from shoulder to knee. You slumped back against the wall, looking anywhere but him.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Again,” he growls, grabbing at your shirt from the inside and yanking it over your head. He slides a leg between yours to better ensnare you. You fall into the trap unconsciously, grinding against his thigh.

It wasn’t enough. “Din, please,” you beg again and arch back, eager to give him access to anything he wishes.

He’s captivated in turn by the cries and whimpers he extracts as he pinches and caresses, one hand sliding down to the apex where your cunt meets his leg and rubbing softly, never sliding close enough, just dangling the pleasure in front of you like an eopie chasing a carrot.

You return the favor with a desperate, sweaty palm against the bulge in his flightsuit, moaning deep when you cup the weight of him. Your memory had not done him justice, your fingers unable to replicate the heft and girth of him.

He bucks against you when you squeeze gently, and his hand slides up to wrap around your throat.

“Please, Din,” you cry, “please, I’m sorry, please.”

He stops, hands falling to his sides, shifting his weight onto the other foot to put a little distance between you.

“What are you doing?”

“Please, you were right. I want to hurt. I want you to hurt me until it stops hurting.”

“That’s not… I can’t do that. That’s not right.”

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t be rational right now.”

“I have to.” He walks himself through a few deep breaths. You’re looking at him so sorrowfully, tears welling up, and he wants to give you everything.

“Please.” Your voice is steadier now. “It hurts so bad,” your fingers clutch at your chest, pressing a fist into the valley of your clavicle.

He closes his eyes, the phantom pain echoing in his body. “I can’t give you absolution when there’s nothing to be forgiven, ner kar’ta,” he says.

“I left,” you say, barely audible over the rumble of the engines.

“Yes,” he says. “So did I.”

You flounder for the right thing to say, but you can tell the discussion is over. An indignant flame flickers in your gut, but it’s washed away in the wave of exhaustion that crashes over you. “I can’t have this conversation half naked,” you settle on.

He laughs, half of a chuckle swept from him in relief. He gives you back your shirt, and you sink onto the crate sofa.

“It’s not just me, right?” you mumble to your hands where they rest in your lap. “That feels like a ghost and a person, split in two.”

“No,” he sits next to you. He lets the silence sit for a moment. “You know, it doesn’t make you weak. That you grieved. No matter what we were to each other then.”

You’re startled by the subject, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About it being stupid to have grieved when we weren’t together. But I grieved you, too, in a way.”

You frown but say nothing. His words circulate in your head, jostling up some of your own, but all seem inadequate. “I’m sorry,” you finally settle on. “I’m sorry I ran away.”

“Which time? In the market?” he teases.

A corner of your lips twitches up against your will. “Nah, not sorry for that one.”

“I told you, I understand why you left,” his voice is soft. He shifts a little, a bare hand settling on the cushion between you.

You take a deep breath and ignore the invitation. “No. I’m sorry for the first time. When I stayed behind. I was afraid.”

“You don’t have to apologize for doing what you thought was best for yourself.”

You had forgotten this. Forgotten the way he never failed to support you, never allowed you to doubt yourself. You let your hand fall from your lap beside his on the bedroll, just the tiniest graze of your pinky against his.

He tried not to watch you too intently, like you might run again if he looked right at you. It chafed a little, but you couldn’t really blame him.

In the end, you figure it out—how to be brave about it. You turn your ire inward, let the frustration roil at your cowardice. He was right there. So what if you were afraid? You had survived losing him twice; surely it would be easier a third time. And what, were you really this pathetic? You had been so scared that love would make you fragile that you didn’t realize the fear was doing it anyway. Not until you shattered.

You give a little angry huff, scowling, and slide your hand into his, entwining your fingers.

Din holds very still, curling his hand in yours slowly. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t confused by the anger on your face, but it wasn’t worth spooking you over. It was strange, how his heart was racing faster just holding your hand than ten minutes ago when he was holding your breasts.

“What if,” he begins, pausing minutely to gauge your reaction. When you don’t shut down, he presses forward. “What if we link comms? When you get back.”

The scowl smooths out, not quite into a smile, but into something soft and thoughtful. You tilt your head, brows furrowed as you consider it. “And what, just like check in?”

“Or we could talk. In the morning or before bed, when we’re not hunting.” His anxious thumb rubs up and down your finger.

You don’t answer for a minute, considering. You find that the idea settles somewhere below your ribs, tucked away and harmless. Something akin to a smile blossoms, and it makes his chest tight.

“I think I’d like that.”

Din calls the same night he drops you off. You’re half asleep, but the crackle of the commlink startles you awake.

“Settled back in?” he asks once you answer.

“Uh-huh,” you tell your pillow.

“Were you asleep already?”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d call. You just dropped me off.”

“That’s not how you start a routine, cyare. If you put it off once, you’ll just keep forgetting.”

“Don’t lecture me, I’m sleepy.”

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure you were home safe.”

“You walked me to my apartment.”

“Alright, fine, go to sleep.” It’s soft and teasing, and it warms your heart in such an embarrassing way.

“Goodnight, Din,” you murmur, already snuggling back down in your blankets.

“Goodnight, cyare.”

*title from "Miami" by Taking Back Sunday.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin smut #dom din djarin #make it hurt verse #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fic

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themculibrary · 1 year ago

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Daisy Johnson/Jemma Simmons (Skimmons) Masterlist

Addicted To You (ao3) - DeceitfulHonesty E, 26k

Summary: A raid at the SHIELD lab where she was working, leaves Jemma in the hands of her greatest enemies. As she tries to stay alive, Jemma finds herself drawn to someone who destroys all her expectations of Hydra: a specialist who calls herself Skye.

and i can go anywhere i want (anywhere i want just not home) (ao3) - autismboard G, 5k

Summary: She defined herself by the things that she loved: she was a scientist, a wife, a best friend.

At that moment, she was sure of only one of those things. So the only conclusion she could draw was that there was no more Jemma. --------

Jemma post 5x14 attempting to make sense of the situation at hand (aka girlie is struggling)

and if you're still breathing (you're the lucky ones) (ao3) - plinys M, 6k

Summary: She’s seen Groundhog Day and every other story about being stuck in a time loop. Though normally the people in these loops are unwilling participants, unable to change anything significantly, but needlessly repeating the same cycle until they learn some sort of moral of the story.

The thing is Jemma already knows the moral of this story. At least, she thinks she does.

can you see me using everything to hold back? (ao3) - midnightstrawberries T, 6k

Summary: Sometimes, late at night, unable to sleep and sprawled under bed sheets, head hanging upside down off the left side of the bed, Skye likes to imagine her parents. What they were like, who they were, how they lived. She dreams until her head starts hurting too much and she has to sit back up.

Skye is sixteen years old and she has never lived in the same place for more than a year at a time. (Something tells her she never will. Something else tells her to believe otherwise.)

Skye and Jemma meet in high school instead of at SHIELD.

Follow Me, I Know A Shortcut (ao3) - nerdwegian G, 1k

Summary: Jemma is acting weird around Skye.

I found love where it wasn't supposed to be (right in front of me) (ao3) - EB_FanficFan_1458 mack/yo yo, jemma/daisy, kate/bobbi, clint/natasha T, 24k

Summary: “Is this what gay stargazing is? Stars and confessions?” Nat whispered. Bobbi laughed silently. “Yes. Now you’ve experienced that, you’re officially with us. Welcome to the family.”

For the first time in years, Daisy and Bobbi feel safe at their home with Phil Coulson and Melinda May. But what happens when Phil and Mel decide to adopt Natasha as well? The demons of their pasts come back to haunt them. Can they stay safe and happy, or will everything fall apart?

I'll Be The Rock Star If You'll Be The Scientist (ao3) - nerdwegian T, 10k

Summary: "Wait, wait, wait! Sir, are you telling me the dinosaur escaped our plane in your flying car?"

It's All About Biochemistry (ao3) - Selenay

Summary: Jemma pulled in a calming breath. "Just. I'm not really used to this kind of thing yet."

"What kind of thing?"

"Post emotional crisis kissing," Jemma said. "It's new to me."

Love Me at the Corner Cafe (ao3) - Heylittleyahtzee (HeyYahtzee) T, 36k

Summary: Skye likes to keep an eye on her regulars, so when Jemma Simmons comes in entirely flustered one morning Skye can’t help but reach out to her. It turns out that Jemma Simmons can’t help but return the favor. Unsurprisingly there is no going back from this

Slytherin to My Heart (ao3) - happypugfics E, 82k

Summary: Skimmons Hogwarts AU Skye and Jemma find themselves in their sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry dealing with the same old issues it has to offer: homework, tests, quidditch, house points, their relationship...and oh, the Triwizard Tournament.

The Hydra Disaster (ao3) - Rhino (RhinoMouse) M, 39k

Summary: Jemma's time undercover at Hydra gets far more interesting and Important when she gets pulled into project World Killer. She is not prepared. But SHIELD needs her to succeed. Which would be easier if her boss's boss's boss, Agent Daisy Johnson hadn't taken an interest in her. It would also make Agent Morse's life easier if the scientist she's supposed to protect would stop breaking every rule of spy craft. Every. Single. Rule.

The Way Our Horizons Meet (ao3) - plinys M, 50k

Summary: Four years ago Skye married Jemma in order to keep her from being deported, now when the day has come to end things she can't help herself from wondering how they got here and how she can get her to stay.

Until We Get There (ao3) - Pitkin E, 275k

Summary: “I’ve got a tail,” Daisy announced, loud enough to hear through the phone as she watched the silver truck appear around the fourth corner, having made a successful square with the truck following. She made a left at the next possible road, deciding she would head back toward the highway to get to a better populated area.

Lily gasped. “You do??” She asked. “CAN I SEE IT!?!” She screeched in excitement.

Under normal circumstances, this reaction would have been more than enough for Daisy to roar with laughter and come up with an excuse for why Lily wasn’t allowed to see her non-existent tail. Today she was quiet as she glanced behind her in the rearview again.

wandering (ao3) - cardiganweather E, 4k

Summary: Jemma Simmons has survived an alien virus, jumped out of a plane without a parachute, and worked with an Asgardian to solve a murder mystery. She can handle sharing a bed with a girl she likes in a too hot hotel room.

Right?

Want to Annoy Your Family This Thanksgiving? Call Skye! (ao3) - DeceitfulHonesty T, 4k

Summary: "I’m a 25 year old, unemployed hacker with no high school degree who lives in a van that’s older than me. If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but pretend to be in a serious, committed relationship with you to irritate your family, I’m game. I require no pay but the free meal I’ll get as a guest and the joy of spending an evening with people I can aggravate! Call Skye." Based on the Craigslist ad that people love to share this time of year.

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #daisy johnson #jemma simmons #skimmons #skimmons masterlist #femslash #f/f

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illarian-rambling · 6 months ago

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Thanks for the tags @urnumber1star @drchenquill @paeliae-occasionally @leahnardo-da-veggie!

OC Interaction

Number's OC: Micheal from Bolt Runners. He’s sixteen years old but sometimes acts too old for his age. He’s a superhero by night so he tries to be as responsible as he can but is also chronically sleep deprived. He is very wary of anyone he doesn't know and will sometimes spend days trying to figure out their intentions. If he thinks that they are a threat he will do one of two things. Either try to talk to them if he thinks they can be swayed, or attack and try to take them down. If he thinks they;re intentions are good, then he’ll try to be friends with them. He’s overall a really good guy but is often very gullible at times. He will also talk your ear off if you let him. He just wants to help people.

Dr. Chen's OC: Elias is an eighteen year old boy, sold by his parents as part of a deal to work for a man he never even met. He tends to fall in a pit of selfloathing thoughts, spiriling until he is too deep too see positivty in anything. Since he didn't have a good childhood, he feels protective of anyone that he thinks is being mistreated, often resulting in him snapping at people, without knowing the context of the situation.

Paelie's OC: Apollo is about 24. He is very protective of people he cares about, this includes all magic kids because they are routinely exploited by the mages in power. He is generally a really chill person and is very observant of how people receive him. Because of this he is incredibly patient and will convince you to tell him your problems so he can help you solve them. That said, he is an incredibly capable caster and will non-lethally fight you if you threaten others.

Leah's OC: Katherine looks like a fifteen year old girl, acts like a cryptid and is probably closer to the latter than the former. She's quiet, secretive, and rather creepy, at least to the casual observer. To someone who knows her (that is, her best friend/apprentice Dane and her elder brother L), she is a pathological snarker, has the worst authority issues known to any immortal entity, and likes chocolate gelato more than life. She'd gleefully pick a fight with anything from vampire teachers to the goddess of dreams for no bigger reason than because she could. That said, she does have a good heart.

Well, I think I have only one main oc I haven't done for this game yet!

My OC: Avymere Kalaphon Spearsong III is a 153 year old elf and Duchon (gender neutral equivalent of Duke/Duchess) of the city of Salis. They act as a spy and political agent for their father, Archduke Eluan Spearsong, who rules Salis. They also keep watch for assassins, on top of playing the perfect, if ditzy, heir in front of the court. They tend to keep up a happy-go-lucky facade in order to disguise their true cunning and because of this, are very reluctant to let their true personality show, to the point that they've sort of lost who they are. The one thing they embrace with their full, honest heart is martial arts. Though it's seen as a lowly habit that the court indulges on account of the Duchon's 'airheadedness,' they really do love to practice Talmel Valkys and are quite the fighter. It's where they feel they can drop any acts they have up. Apart from that, they have a hard time socializing outside of situations they're not used to and get easily flustered when they don't hold all the cards, as they don't actually have much experience outside of the highest echelon of Salis society. Though well meaning, they also tend to come off as aloof and unaware of the problems of the common man, even though they truly believe that they are a servant of the people they rule.

Now let's see how they'd interact!

Avymere and Micheal: I think these two have very similar stances on their responsibility to protect people. Michael would probably be very wary of Avymere at first, and Avymere would be very wary of Michael. If he is gullible, he may fall for the dumb, but well-intentioned act Avymere puts on. However, in any high stress scenario, I think he'd be able to tell that Avymere is smarter than they let on. Overall, I think these two would get along decently, especially if they ended up doing superhero stuff together. They can be work friends. I do think it'd be funny to watch a sleep deprived teenager and a grim scion of an ancient elven royal line beat up goons side by side. He could teach them what a TikTok is.

Avymere and Elias: I'll be honest, Avymere is not the best at comforting people. I think they'd be concerned for Elias and would want to help him, but just wouldn't know how. From Elias's perspective, I doubt he'd trust Avymere. They're a powerful adult with weird vibes, who sometimes slips and calls people peasants. I doubt he'd hang around long enough to get to know them.

Avymere and Apollo: So, I didn't mention it because their bio is already long, but Avymere's family is famed for its powerful sorcerers. Except, Avymere never inherited that power, and neither did they have the right sort of mind to learn book magic. That said, they're a little uptight around magic users, like they have to prove their worth even if they don't understand spells or runes. I think Apollo would clock this, and would probably also clock the rest of Avymere's general strangeness. It'd take a while, but I think he could get a story out of them eventually. Avymere would respect anyone who protects kids and would likely offer their assistance in Apollo's work, but damn if they'd be resistant to any of his attempts to therapize them.

Avymere and Katherine: As a spy, all secrets seem dangerous to Avymere. They'd be able to tell something is off about Katherine pretty quickly and would try to investigate. That said, I think Katherine would just try to fuck with them. Laying false evidence, coming up with weird rumors, and all that. If they ever did meet face to face, any conversation would be pure vitriol, since Katherine is a rebellious snarker and Avymere is authority incarnate. However, once they satisfy themself that Katherine isn't a danger to people, I think it'd go the way of the kid vigilante/cop who pretends to dislike them, but protects them when shit goes down trope. Any conversation between them would likely involve lots of tormenting on Katherine's part and lots of snooty comments from Avymere, but ultimately, Avymere's duty is to protect people, so they'd do their best to keep this snarky kid safe.

Wow, that was a lot! Let me know what you all think :)

I'll tag @tildeathiwillwrite @somethingclevermahogony @watermeezer @cssnder @willtheweaver and anyone else who wants to join!

#writing #writerscommunity #writblr #my ocs #oc interaction

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wordywarriorwrites · 2 years ago

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Calendar Girl: March

Series Masterlist: Calendar Girl Joel Miller Masterlist Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: The story of how Joel Miller falls in love again, told over a series of months. A/N: These are written in a “one-shot” style. Series Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Language. Violence. Discussions of rape and consent.

March

Ellie had never celebrated her birthday.

She’d also never been sure of the date, but recalled someone had once told her, “Sometime in the Spring.” When Joel had suggested March 20th, as that was officially the first day of the season, she’d agreed.

He would’ve planned a huge sweet sixteen celebration for Sarah. He’d have invited all her friends, gotten her a big cake, and maybe even a car if he’d had the money saved up. Now, he was trying to plan something for Ellie; she wasn’t Sarah, the world had gone to hell in a handbasket, and ideas for ways to celebrate a big day (with limited supplies, in a very small, isolated town) had completely eluded him.

“A six pack, some pizza, a few friends,” you suggested as you shaped a pile of dough for a series of loaf pans. “I’m on kitchen duty all week, so, I could make it. And I’m sure Maria would even let you borrow the movie projector for the night.”

He leaned against the prep table and crossed his arms over his chest, “So, the pizza would be for me, and the beer would be for the kids?”

You laughed and playfully flicked flour at him, “The beer is for you, dummy. You’ll need it if you intend to chaperone. And don’t tell me you weren’t drinking when you were sixteen. Hell, you were probably shot gunnin’ like a pro by then.”

Joel neither confirmed nor denied it, and the pointed look you gave him suggested you knew all too well the kind of jackass he’d been as a teenager. He knew you’d attended a private school, but beyond that, he had no clue what you’d been like. Had you been a wild child? Had you been popular? Played any sports or instruments? There were so many things he hadn’t learned yet, but he wanted to. He wanted to know everything.

You snagged a pan and carefully placed the dough in it, “Run it by Ellie. See what she thinks.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your flour-smudged cheek and nodded, “Will do. See you later.”

He’d done exactly as you suggested, and by the next morning, Ellie said six of her friends would be over to celebrate with her. With the final headcount and permission to use the projector, he relayed the good news to you, and you promised to be there with bells on.

Ellie had gone straight home after school let out, and he’d ditched work early to spend time with her and help get the house ready. Together, they’d rearranged the furniture and hung up a white sheet on the largest wall for optimal movie viewing. Ellie had also gathered enough blankets and pillows for everyone’s comfort, and a few boardgames for back-up entertainment.

“If you don’t want an old man hoverin’ over you and your friends, you can shut these,” Joel said as he gestured toward the pocket doors. “But uh, before everyone gets here, I wanted to give you your present, if that’s alright?”

Ellie grinned, “Joel, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s your birthday. And I wanted to.”

She sat down. Glanced inside the bag. Giggled when she saw the NASA t-shirt. As she held it up to examine it, he regaled her with how he’d nearly bartered his soul for the damn thing, and after she carefully folded it back up, she moved onto the next gift.

“Got the blade sharpened and the handle refinished,” Joel explained. “Had ‘em carve you and your mom’s initials on it, too. I think the smithy did a nice job.”

She quickly swiped a hand under each eye and nudged him with her shoulder, “So, that’s why you wanted to borrow it.”

A long hug. A few more sniffles. Then, a patterned knock that announced your arrival. While Ellie rushed upstairs to change into her new shirt, he opened the door for you, and helped bring everything inside. You’d outdone yourself – you’d brought a pizza as well as a cake.

“That bag can go in the fridge,” you told him as you positioned everything else just right on the table. “And don’t peek! It’s a surprise for later.”

Joel nodded as he put it away. Ten minutes later, Ellie’s friends arrived, and happily scarfed up everything you’d made. While he cleaned up, you got the projector rolling, and once the kids had hunkered down in their makeshift blanket fort, you shut off the lights, and he slid the pocket doors shut.

“You eat yet?” you asked as you both reentered the kitchen.

Joel shook his head, “Didn’t have time.”

“Alright, sit down, and I’ll make us something.”

The bag he stowed in the fridge earlier made a reappearance, and as you unpacked it, his stomach growled. You’d already baked the potatoes, and while they warmed in the oven, you readied two pans. One for asparagus, seasoned with butter, salt, pepper, and a hint of lemon. Five minutes later, you started the steaks - again, seasoned and cooked to what Joel knew would be a perfect medium rare. You’d also brought beer.

“Is this the surprise?” he wondered as you sat the plated food and two beers on the table.

You nodded and took a seat across from him, “You like it?”

At a loss for words, Joel simply nodded vigorously, and after a clink and sip, you urged him to dig in. Just as the kids had, he cleaned his plate. You finished soon after, and as he gathered the dishes, he apologized for his near silence and lack of manners during the meal.

“I take it as a compliment,” you stated with a shrug. “Means the food was good.”

“It was very good,” he praised as he dunked a plate beneath the hot, soapy water. “So, do I want to who you had to bribe and barter with to manage this feast?”

You made a face and twisted the cap off another beer, “Probably not.”

Joel grinned, and as he scrubbed, you dried, and took turns chatting about your days and plans for the weekend. After the kitchen was put back in order, you sat back down at the table for a time. Two more beers, some more small talk, and then, you showed him your final trick.

A small handful of fresh blueberries and strawberries, accompanied by a pair of mini-cheesecakes. Rich and decadent, Joel eagerly shoveled a forkful toward his mouth, and lost a blueberry in the process. He topped that blunder by taking too big of a bite, and ended up with a mess on his chin and beard.

“You’re supposed to chew your food,” you laughed as you reached across the table and swiped away the crumbs with your fingertips. “Not inhale it.”

He looked at you and winked, “Can’t help it. S’my favorite.”

Your gaze softened, and when your thumb moved over his lower lip, he couldn’t help but press a kiss to the pad of it. When you didn’t pull away, he nuzzled the warm skim of your palm, and skimmed his nose along the pulse point of your inner wrist.

You sighed his name. Rested your thumb against the hinge of his jaw and curled your fingers into the short hairs behind his ear. It was an intimate touch - one that prompted him to lean in, and you followed suit. A soft kiss, then, a deeper one, flavored with strawberries and hops. When you pulled back, Joel groaned in protest, and chased your mouth clear across the table.

The chair scraped against the linoleum when you hastily rose from it, and of course, he’d been quick to follow. You backed away. He advanced. Followed you until you were pressed up against the counter with no means of escape. You surrendered easily with a smile and a quiet laugh, and he kissed you. Kissed you until his lungs burned and everything else faded away. Shaped his lips and tongue along the curve of your ear and jugular until you threaded your fingers through his hair and moaned.

“I want you,” he rasped against your neck. “Wanted you since the first moment I saw you.”

Situated in the cradle of your thighs, he rolled his hips against the seam of your jeans, and you followed his lead. Rocked yourself against him. Brought his hand to your breast. Guided his touch down, down, down, until the heel of his palm was pressed against the hot center of you. He squeezed, just hard enough to give you a hint of what he intended, and you were right there with him - mouth hovered over his, breathless words and muffled sounds against his tongue that pleaded and encouraged - but when he reached for the button just below your naval, you gripped his shoulder, and told him to stop.

He rested his hands on your hips and met your eyes, “You okay?”

You let out a rattled breath. Nodded your head and tapped your ear. A beat later, the pocket doors rumbled open, and he heard footsteps. Joel cursed. Reluctantly backed away. You straightened your clothes just in time for Ellie to announce herself. She bounded into the kitchen, said she needed help with the projector, and of course, you volunteered to assist.

Thwarted again, Joel reached into the highest cabinet, grabbed the bottle of bourbon he’d stashed there, and poured himself a drink.

Next Chapter: April

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic #wordywarriorwrites #calendar girl

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foundtherightwords · 1 year ago

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Same Streets, New Memories

Pairing: Eddie x Chrissy (No Vecna/No Upside Down AU)

Summary: Sixteen years after he got his diploma and ran like hell out of Hawkins, Eddie is forced to return home. Disappointed and disillusioned, he broods over his past failures, until a chance meeting with a certain former Queen of Hawkins High puts things into perspective for him.

A/N: This is mostly inspired by the song I Finally Love This Town by Tired Pony. Also, I've seen a lot of "rock star Eddie" fics, so I wanted to explore the opposite of that - what if he never made it big at all?

Warnings: angst (quarter-life crisis stuff - they're all in their mid-30s though, is that too late for a quarter-life crisis?), mentions of drug dealing, drug use, and drinking, some violence

Word count: 6.5k

"Hawkins!" the driver called out amidst the hissing of the brakes, jolting Eddie from the stupor he'd sank into since the Greyhound left Indianapolis. He sat up in his seat and rubbed his aching neck, trying to suppress a groan. Sometimes he'd forgotten he could no longer fall asleep in any position and wake up just fine. For one thing, he wasn't nineteen anymore; for another, all those years spent pretzeled up into all sorts of shapes in the van, on the floor, or on the couch of anyone kind enough to let him crash at their place, were catching up with him.

The bus door clunked open, and Eddie stepped off, blinking in the watery spring sun. It took him a while to recognize that Hawkins' Greyhound station was still in the same place—the parking lot of Palace Arcade and Family Video—because Family Video had been taken over by a Blockbuster, while a Starbucks had replaced the Palace.

It had been sixteen years since he left, and he wasn't prepared for the changes. They say you can never go home again. But what if the place had never felt like home in the first place?

He was one of the few that got off the bus. There were no familiar faces among the passengers or those that came to pick them up. All the better. He didn't want to see anyone he knew.

Hoisting his bag over his shoulder and picking up his guitar case, Eddie trudged toward Forest Hills Trailer Park. It was early March, yet the air was already muggy, even more uncomfortably so after the cool dryness of Los Angeles, and he ran an irritable hand through his fizzy hair, again regretting his decision to come home. Well, what were his options? Stay in LA and work some shitty job with shitty pay that couldn't even afford him a shitty apartment, or return to Hawkins and work some shitty job with shitty pay, but at least he could stay with Wayne in their shitty trailer so he could save money on rent? The second one was an obvious choice, even if it made his insides shrivel up in shame every time he paused long enough to think about it. The prodigal freak of Hawkins, slinking home with his tail between his legs... It'll be OK, he told himself without conviction. Humiliation rarely causes death.

As he walked through Hawkins, Eddie noticed all the changes in the landscape and the people, some subtle, some obvious, but changes nonetheless. Compared to the constant flux of LA, Hawkins seemed older, more tired, the people wearing a harsher look on their faces. He wondered how much of the changes came from himself.

At the turnoff, he almost collided with some spotty-faced kids rolling past on their skateboards. "Watch it, old man!" one of them yelled. The word stung. Eddie thought about giving them a piece of his mind, but thought better of it once he got a closer look at them. Jesus, did he ever look that young? He must have. And thirty-six is not old. Yet, watching those kids, with their frosted tips and the hems of their jeans dragging in the dust, he felt ancient, like Rip Van Winkle returning from his twenty-year-long sleep in the mountains.

But that feeling waned, the closer he got to the trailer. In fact, by the time he pushed open the door, it was as if no time had passed at all, and he was ten years old, getting dropped off by Hopper after Al got arrested yet again. By that point, Eddie had gotten used to staying with Wayne whenever his old man got into trouble, and neither of them had noticed when that particular stay had extended from days into weeks into months and finally years.

The trailer was a time capsule. There was the prehistoric TV by the door, the old faded rug on the floor, the cramped, messy kitchen. All the mugs and hats he'd given Wayne for Christmases and birthdays still lined the walls. It had started sort of as a joke one Christmas, when Eddie first started living with Wayne and couldn't think of a present for him. He had found a Garfield mug and bought it with the little money he had. Wayne had laughed upon opening it and given it the place of honor on the shelf over the TV. And so for Wayne's birthday next year, Eddie had bought him another mug, and another for Christmas, occasionally throwing in a hat just to keep Wayne on his toes, until it had become a tradition and Wayne had to put up new shelves around the living room for the mugs.

Eddie still remembered the Christmas he'd given Wayne a "World's Best Dad" mug.

"I'm sorry, they didn't have a 'World's Best Uncle' one," he'd mumbled apologetically. Wayne had said nothing, only clearing his throat and giving Eddie a tight hug.

And there was Wayne himself. Eddie looked at his uncle with sadness. When had Wayne become so worn out? Ever since Eddie knew him, he had seemed to have been born old, always of some undetermined age between forty-five and sixty, yet full of a quiet energy that never went out. Now, slumped in the rocking chair in front of the droning TV, he looked shrunk, a tired old man. Guilt pricked at Eddie's insides. He'd promised himself the first thing he'd do when Corroded Coffin got big was to get Wayne out of the trailer park and into a decent house, and not only had he failed, but he also had to ask Wayne to take him back.

Eddie sighed and gave Wayne's shoulder a gentle shake. The old man opened his eyes, blinking at his nephew.

"You're home," he said, as if Eddie had just left the previous day.

Eddie wondered if he'd ever really felt at home anywhere. Here, in this rundown trailer, with his gruff but kind uncle, was probably the closest he'd ever gotten. "Yeah," he said simply. "I'm home."

***

Eddie got a job as a bartender at the Hideout.

He suspected that Lenny, the owner, gave him the job for old times' sake more than anything, but it suited him just fine. It meant he got to go to work when most of the townspeople were already on their way home, so fewer chances of running into people he knew. Besides, those that knew him and might mock him didn't usually frequent the Hideout.

It didn't pay that well, and Eddie wondered if the idea of raising enough money to self-produce and release the next Corroded Coffin album was even plausible. He briefly considered dealing again. But even back in high school, he had never made much money from it, mostly just enough to buy a new record now and then. And he couldn't risk getting arrested. Plus, even if he wanted to, he wouldn't even know where to begin now.

"I had to get out, man," said Reefer Rick, when Eddie dropped by his house on Lover's Lake one afternoon. "Kids these days, they're so much tougher. Cannier. And they deal with the hard stuff. I couldn't keep up. I had this place. I had a nice bit of money put away. So I got out while I could." Rick was well on his way to middle age now, spending most of the time sitting on the porch drinking or even fishing on the lake, like those bozos they used to make fun of back in the day, and, oddly enough, he seemed content. Eddie envied him that.

Rick was one of the few old friends that Eddie saw. Eddie found his initial fear about running into people he knew laughable now, because there was almost no one left. All his friends from high school had moved away. His bandmates, Jeff and Grant, had gone to LA with him after graduation, but Gareth, who'd graduated a year later, never made it. "Sorry, man, my mom wants me to stay close," he'd said. They had found a replacement for him, but it was never quite the same.

One Sunday, Eddie ran into Gareth at the store. Gareth recognized him first, and no wonder—Gareth's hair was now cropped short, making his cherubic face look tired and much older than his thirty-three years.

"Holy shit, man, when did you get back?" he asked, giving Eddie a bear hug.

"Gareth, language!" hissed the woman holding a baby, standing just behind them at the check-out line.

"Sorry, hun," Gareth muttered and gave Eddie an embarrassed grin.

They caught up at the Hideout that night. Eddie was relieved to be able to unload to Gareth all about the band's struggle, as he knew no one else would understand. Gareth was understanding, but Eddie couldn't help feeling that his old friend was congratulating himself for not following them to LA and subjecting himself to such hardship. A boring life with a boring job and a boring wife in boring Hawkins was preferable to that. And then Gareth's pager beeped and he excused himself to get home because his wife needed help with the baby, and that was that.

The rest of Eddie's Hellfire buddies, all those lost sheep he'd taken under his wings, were gone too. Henderson was in MIT, working on his PhD. He still sent Eddie a Christmas card every year. Byers, the only one who could rival Eddie as a DM, was in California after Mrs. Byers and Hopper got married and moved the whole clan there, but they were in San Bernardino or somewhere, and Eddie never ran into them in LA. Wheeler had also gone to school there—he was dating Hopper's daughter at the time, if Eddie remembered correctly—and stayed. Sinclair, who had turned out better than Eddie had expected, given his association with the jocks, was working in Indianapolis. They had all done well for themselves.

So perhaps it was a good thing that they weren't here to see their fallen leader.

***

But not everyone left Hawkins. Some stayed. And sometimes, those who stayed were the fucking worst.

It was a usual night at the Hideout, with the regular crowd of five drunks. Nobody paid attention to the band, some lame punk cover act. Eddie wanted to feel bad for the band, remembering that Corroded Coffin had once been in their shoes, but he couldn't muster up the sympathy. Looking at their carefully ripped clothes and perfectly coifed hair, he knew this was just a hobby for them, a pastime to make themselves look cool, and could be easily left behind when they went back to the safety of their parents' houses and their cushy little lives. Then he caught himself and shook his head. Jesus, when did he become so bitter?

A group of men burst through the door, their raucous shouts and laughter putting an end to his dark thoughts. Eddie barely glanced at them. He'd seen enough of those, both in the few weeks he'd been working at the bar and back when he was playing here with Corroded Coffin. Suburban dads, most of them, out on their allotted once-per-week guys' night. Bored with the usual, they decided to check out the Hideout as the most underground place Hawkins had to offer. Ha. They wouldn't know underground even if they woke up buried in a six-foot grave.

Silently, he filled their orders and gave them to Trish, the server. She was one of the new hires—just out of school, barely old enough to be working at a bar—so Eddie made it a point to watch out for her when he could. "You'll be OK with those?" he asked, indicating the men sitting in their booth.

"Nothing I haven't seen before," she replied, though her face was grim.

The group stayed for a long time. As the night went on, they became louder, more obnoxious, and the grim set of Trish's mouth started to waver. She tried to act tough, but she was just a kid, really, and she was no match for those men.

After Trish brought the men their third rounds of tequila shots, Eddie heard a yell coming from the booth. "Get your hand off me!" It was Trish. She was grappling with one of the men, who was holding her by the waist, trying to pull her into the booth with him.

Eddie looked around. The band was gone, having finished their sets more than half an hour ago. Lenny wasn't even in. With a sigh, Eddie left the bar and approached the booth.

"Do we have a problem here?" he said.

"Damn right we do," said the man holding Trish. "You'd better teach your staff to be friendlier to the customers!"

"They are friendly. To those who can keep their hands to themselves," Eddie said, taking Trish's hand and pulling her up. She gave him a grateful look and scurried to the back.

The man got unsteadily to his feet. "Watch your fucking mouth," he snarled, giving Eddie a shove.

Eddie seized the man's wrist. "What did I say about keeping your hands to yourself?"

The man winced, and his friends glanced at each other, worried. "Fuck," the man said. Then he took a closer look at Eddie, and his eyes popped. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed. "Munson? Eddie 'The Freak' Munson?"

Eddie's stomach dropped, and his grip on the man's wrist loosened. He stared back at the man. Square jaws, a low forehead, and small, arrogant eyes. Loathing stirred his memories. His mind's eye added a letterman jacket and a baseball hat, and the man's features solidified. One of Jason Carver's cronies from the basketball team. What was his name?

The man's mouth lifted in a mocking smile. "Well, well, well. What happened to 'fuck this town', Munson?"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Eddie said, ignoring the question.

"What are you going to do, kick me out?"

"Yes."

The others exchanged glances again, and Eddie was aware of how he looked in their eyes—a tall, intimidating guy in a leather jacket. Someone you don't want to mess with. One of them put his hand on the square-jawed man's shoulder. "Come on, Andy." Andy. That was it.

Andy jerked his shoulder away. "Don't let this freak scare you. All bark and no bite, aren't you, Munson?" he said, grinning at Eddie. "Just like in high school."

Eddie tried to swallow the hot gust of anger rising to his throat. "My bark is actually worse," he said evenly. "If you refuse to leave, I'm going to call the police."

Andy's friends had had enough. "Let's go, man. It's getting late anyway."

They filed out of the booth, throwing down money as they went. Andy still stared at Eddie, his already small eyes narrowed into angry slits, while his friends dragged him away.

***

After the bar closed, Eddie made sure that Trish was picked up by her boyfriend. It was four in the morning by the time he finished cleaning up and locking the door. As he walked through the parking lot that was still steeped in darkness, a voice called out, "Munson!"

Eddie turned around. It was Andy, standing by a car. What the hell?

"You really humiliated me tonight, you know that?" Andy said. By the slurring of his voice, his drinking hadn't stopped after he left the Hideout.

"You must have a really fragile ego, if that was enough to humiliate you," Eddie said, continuing to walk.

"Don't act all high and mighty with me, freak," Andy growled. "You were nothing in high school, and you're nothing now."

A haze of red came over Eddie's eyes, but he tried to keep it in check as he turned around.

"Hey man, I don't know what your problem is—" he began, but before he could finish, a fist landed on his cheek. Since said fist belonged to a guy who wasn't even standing straight, it didn't hurt much, but the surprise threw Eddie off his balance. Andy used the momentum to grab Eddie's shoulder and yank him down. Eddie's face collided with the car's side-view mirror.

Dazed, Eddie sat on the ground and touched his cheek. It stung where the mirror cut him, and his fingers came away wet with blood.

The haze of red slammed over his eyes again.

He jumped up and lunged at Andy.

What followed was a blur of punches, some connecting, either with flesh or metal, but most didn't. The more he missed, the angrier Eddie got. As if this bastard hadn't made his life miserable enough back in high school, he had to come to his work and attacked him as well. And for what? For ruining his night out with his buddies? As far as Eddie could see, Andy was doing a pretty good job of that himself.

Finally, Eddie had Andy by his neck against the car.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" he roared.

"Fuck you, fucking freak!" Andy spat out.

Suddenly the fight went out of Eddie. What the hell were they doing, two grown men having a pathetic drunken brawl over some imagined animosity nearly twenty years ago? He let go. Andy sank to the ground, and Eddie staggered away.

***

His cheek throbbing, Eddie found his way into the woods surrounding Hawkins. He couldn't let Wayne see him in this state. Better to walk off some steam and come up with some excuse before facing his uncle.

At this hour, the sun was not up yet, but it was no longer pitch dark. The woods lay silent under a cold gray half-light that sapped everything of color and life. The only sound was the squishing of the wet, dead leaves of many winters under his feet, and the only movement, other than his own, was the drip-drip-drip of water, either rain or dew, from the new buds onto his head. Irritated, he reached up to rub the wetness out of his scalp, and winced as he accidentally touched the cut on his face.

He shouldn't have let Andy get to him. The encounter left a sour taste in his mouth and a heavy weight, like a lead ball, in his guts. It wasn't simply anger or shame, or rather, it wasn't his usual shame of being a failure. It was the shame of feeling like he and Andy were similar. He hated the idea that he could have something in common with that jerk, but there it was. It was like they were still teenagers, ready to use their fists at the merest hint of an offense, always trying to prove themselves, trying to be cooler than this or that person. Eddie thought he'd grown out of that high school mentality, but apparently not. It only took coming back to Hawkins, being amongst these people, to bring out that aggressive side of him.

Perhaps coming home was a mistake.

A rustling made him look up. It was light enough now for him to glimpse, through the trees, a figure in a tracksuit, a jogger, a woman, blond hair bobbing along with her steps, running toward him. Shit. He didn't want to run into anyone, especially not right now, skulking through the woods with dry blood down his face and caked on his knuckles. They'd think he was a serial killer or something.

Eddie whirled around, trying to blend into the trees before he and the jogger crossed paths. A branch smacked him in the face, blinding him, making him lose his footing. He took a stumbling step back. The embankment he was standing on, already weak from the endless rain of the past week, gave way, and before he knew it, Eddie was plummeting down a slope, dead branches and rocks scratching at his face and arms as he went.

For a moment, he lay sprawled at the bottom of the slope, blinking up at the green dome above him, too stunned to move.

Then a face appeared in his view. A woman's face, full of concern.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Then the concern on her face slowly dissipated, replaced by surprise and recognition.

"Eddie Munson, as I live and breathe," she said. "I almost didn't recognize you with that beard." When Eddie didn't answer, she gave him a teasing smile. "Don't you remember me?" She extended a hand to help him up.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could sink into the earth and disappear right there and then. But when the trees remained above him, and the musty earth remained underneath him, he had no choice but to accept the helping hand and get to his feet.

"Hi, Chrissy," he said.

***

Chrissy Cunningham. The last person he'd want to run into, especially in his current state.

Though her hair was shorter and held back with a headband instead of pulled into a ponytail, she still looked exactly as he remembered, as she had in high school, those wide blue eyes, that bright smile showing a hint of her crooked front teeth. Next to her, Eddie felt like a tramp. Probably looked like a tramp too.

"You OK?" she asked, taking in his bedraggled and bloodied appearance.

"Uh, yeah."

"That's a nasty cut right there," she said, pointing to his elbow. It was only then that Eddie felt the searing pain. He must've snatched it on a rock or a broken branch. "You should get that cleaned up, or it'll get infected." Without waiting for an answer, she took his other elbow and guided him up the other side of the slope. "Let me go grab a first-aid kit from school, and I can take care of that for you."

"What school?"

Chrissy stared at him. "Hawkins High, of course."

"Are we that close?"

"Don't you recognize this part of the woods?"

They were up on the opposite side of the slope now, and Eddie saw an old picnic table and bench set, all rusty and weather-beaten, by a tree stump that stood like a sentinel over the place. He immediately recognized it. He must've been too pissed off about his encounter with Andy to realize where he was walking.

"Wait here," Chrissy said. "I'll be back in a minute."

As she jogged off, Eddie thought about running away himself. But that would be ridiculous. She'd already seen him. How embarrassing would it be if she came back and found out he'd ran away like some coward? Besides, the fall had left him too sore to move. He gingerly sat down on one of the benches, afraid it would collapse from his weight, and cast a look around. Back in his schooldays, this had been the hangout for the stoners and the burnouts, and there had always been some empty beer cans and cigarette stubs scattered about. Now add to that some old needles, and he could've sworn he saw a used condom too. Jesus. Even this place had gone to the dogs.

What twist of fate had sent him here, and into the path of Chrissy Cunningham, of all people?

Of all the drug spots in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine...

Before he could contemplate that, Chrissy was back, bringing with her a first-aid kit. "So when did you get back?" she asked, lifting Eddie's elbow and cleaning the wound with practiced hands.

"A few weeks ago," Eddie replied, trying not to hiss at the sting of the rubbing alcohol.

"Are you just visiting? You're some big rock star out on the West Coast now, aren't you?"

Eddie was glad that her face was bent over his elbow, so she couldn't see the half-downcast, half-furtive look on his face. But his honesty won out. "Hardly," he mumbled. "Our albums sold like twenty copies each, and I think Jeff's mom—you know Jeff, right?—I think his mom bought most of them." He chuckled to show that he was joking, and Chrissy smiled back.

"I'd love to have a listen," she said. He knew she was just saying that to be polite, but it didn't stop butterflies from fluttering in his stomach. "I know it's not the same as seeing you guys live..." She lifted her eyes briefly to his face, before looking down again. "I always regret not making it to one of your shows at the Hideout, you know."

Eddie stared at her bent head, not knowing what to say. Being here with her and talking about Corroded Coffin and the Hideout brought back memories of another day in March, sixteen years ago. Back then, he'd felt, if not on top of the world, then at least pretty near it.

And that night... if he hadn't felt on top of the world that afternoon when he made Chrissy Cunningham laugh, then he'd certainly felt it that night.

It felt just like yesterday, the two of them driving back to his trailer after the successful conclusion of his Cult of Vecna campaign, trying the Special K, and then just staying up and talking. He couldn't remember what they'd talked about. All he remembered was a sense of... not happiness, exactly, but contentment, and it wasn't because of the Special K. No, it was because Chrissy had been there and she'd felt safe with him, and he with her.

He had never asked why she'd wanted to try the Special K. Later, as he drove her home, she'd asked him to drop her off a little further away so she could walk to her front door, and he'd guessed the reason, but hadn't pressed her about it.

"Sure, no problem," he'd only said, watching the way she twisted her fingers in her lap and fighting the urge to reach out, to put his hand over hers, and tell her everything would be alright. "I'll stay here and keep watch until you're inside."

She'd said thank and leaned over, perhaps to plant a kiss on his cheek, but at the same time, he'd turned his head to tell her "You're welcome", and the kiss had landed on his mouth instead. They'd both jolted back, embarrassed, only to be drawn back toward each other, inexorably, irresistibly, until her lips had found his again, deliberately this time. He still remembered the softness of her mouth, the taste of her lip gloss, the way she'd melted into his arms as he pulled her close...

He should've known it was too good to be true.

Queens of Hawkins High don't go around kissing freaks.

Chrissy had pulled away from him abruptly, ran out of his van, and disappeared into the night. When they got back to school after spring break, she'd actively avoided him.

Looking back, he realized that had been the first in the long string of disappointments that was to be his life for the following sixteen years.

And now here she was, talking as if nothing had happened.

It still stung, but he tried not to let it show.

"I didn't know you were in town," he said, changing the subject.

"Oh, I moved back a couple of years ago."

That surprised him. After leaving Hawkins, he'd tried hard not to think about Chrissy, but when he did, usually after some heavy drinking or after a late gig, when he felt particularly lonely, he'd imagined that she was leading a perfect life somewhere. Moving back to this shithole didn't seem that perfect.

And if she was here and Jason wasn't, that meant...

Eddie found himself glancing at her hand. No ring.

"My dad's passed, and my mom's had a stroke, so I moved back to help out," she explained. Eddie could feel all the years apart stretching out between them like a gulf. Their lives were so separate, so different.

"Shit. That's rough. I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "Moving back was a relief. I wasn't doing great in Chicago anyway. Divorced, working a dead-end job..."

"Oh. Sorry." Then, because he couldn't help himself: "Jason?"

She actually laughed, but there was no bitterness in it. "No. We broke up right after graduation. Just a few days after you left, in fact. He's married with a couple of kids now, living in Bloomington, I think."

She remembered when he left? Nah, don't be stupid. She only remembered 'cause that was when she broke up with that prick...

"What about you?" Chrissy asked.

"Me?"

"You married?" Was it his imagination, or did her nonchalance seem a little forced?

Eddie smiled ruefully. "Almost did, once."

"What happened?"

"She wised up." After that, it was just a string of fleeting relationships and meaningless hook-ups. More disappointments.

They talked about their classmates for a while—Nancy, Wheeler's sister, Miss Valedictorian, now a journalist in New York, Robin Buckley and Vickie Ryan, who shocked Hawkins when they started dating after graduation and then moved away together, and Billy Hargrove, the bad boy of their class, who was killed in a car accident in '92.

"Shit. Sounds like everybody left Hawkins," he said.

"Some stay. Some even came back," she said, gesturing to him and herself.

"That's only because they have no choice."

"No, I think it's nice to come back to a familiar place. You always know where you are. And if the place's changed... well, you've changed too, so that's even."

He hadn't thought of it like that. Suddenly the whole moving back home thing didn't seem so bad after all.

"You should be a motivational speaker, Cunningham," he said, trying to sound dry. "Have you considered that as a career?"

"I already kind of am, with the cheer squad."

"You're still cheering?"

"No, coaching." She perked up. "Didn't I tell you? I'm the cheer coach at Hawkins High now. Hard to believe, right?"

"No, not at all. You were always good at that." He remembered Chrissy in middle school, how young they'd been, how enthusiastic—how long ago was that, over twenty years? Jesus. No wonder he felt old.

"The only thing I'm good at, you mean."

"No, no," Eddie quickly said. "Well, you're good at this too," he added lamely, indicating the first-aid kit.

"I did study to be an RN." She finished bandaging up the large wound on his elbow and moved on to his other cuts and scrapes.

"So why—"

"Dropped out my third year." There was an awkward silence, but Chrissy didn't seem embarrassed. "I just couldn't cope with the stress, and there was no one to sell me half an ounce of weed at a discount," she said, twinkling at him, and he couldn't help smiling back at her.

That smile disappeared when Chrissy asked, "So, any exciting new project with Corroded Coffin coming soon?" Seeing Eddie's face fall, she sobered up. "I'm sorry, was that—"

"No, it's OK."

Eddie felt like opening up to her. Perhaps they weren't so different after all. Perhaps she'd understand.

"Well"—here Eddie took a deep breath, and the truth he'd been hiding came out in a rush—"there won't be any new stuff. Not for a while anyway. We got dropped by the label. The last album didn't sell that well, so they dropped us."

And there it was. The reason why he had to come home, the reason he felt like a failure. It had taken them years to get signed, and when it was only to an indie label, he and the guys had told themselves it was for the best, it would give them more independence. As it turned out, an indie label was less likely to interfere with their creative process, it was true, but it didn't interfere much with anything else either. They were left floundering, having to do almost everything themselves. Ten years of that would put a strain on anyone.

Without Gareth, they went through a string of replacement drummers, none lasting more than a few years, since they had never been part of Hellfire and didn't share their camaraderie. Then, when the label dropped them, it had been the last straw. They had held on for as long as they could, but eventually, when Grant and Jeff quit, Eddie had no choice but to quit as well. Grant had gone back to Hawkins for a while, then left again, having found a job in Detroit. Jeff, the rock of their group, was the only one who stayed in LA, working as a session musician. He had tried to convince Eddie to stay as well, but Eddie couldn't stand watching some other bands hit it big while he was forced to play someone else's music. To him, it would be a special form of Hell. So he'd gone home, feeling like he'd failed his bandmates, his uncle, and himself.

Chrissy listened to all that in sympathetic silence. No judging, no mocking, no clichéd advice or words of encouragement, just a softening of her eyes and a gentle squeeze of her hand on his arms as she placed Band-Aids on his cuts.

"Do you ever feel like you're a failure?" he asked, by way of a conclusion.

She peered at him for a moment before answering. "Oh just... you know, on a daily basis."

Those words rang a bell in Eddie's mind. He looked up to see Chrissy grinning crookedly at him, but there was some self-deprecation in that grin that made him realize how tactless his question had been.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean—"

"No, it's OK." Her smile got a little brighter. "I don't mind being a failure. Takes a lot of pressure off." When he raised a questioning eyebrow at that, she continued, "When you're already a failure, people don't expect much from you. You're free to live your life how you want, no need to live up to anyone's bullshit standard."

Eddie tilted his head to look at Chrissy more closely and realized his first impression of her had been wrong. She had changed. He could hardly recognize her from the nervous girl who jumped at the mere cracking of a branch when they met at this very bench sixteen years ago. She seemed... not exactly more confident, but rather, she no longer cared what others thought of her. Still, even back then, there had been a wild streak in her, a devil-may-care attitude that had driven her to buy drugs from him and agreed to come back to his trailer with him. Time and experiences had mellowed it, but it was still there. The same wild streak that had drawn him to her in the first place.

Chrissy finished with his arms and stood up so she could clean the cuts on his face.

"Do you remember that night before spring break, back in '86?" she said.

Their eyes met, and he held his breath. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I ran off like that. I'm sorry I ignored you in school afterward. It was—stupid of me. I cared too much about what other people thought."

So she remembered. And understood.

Eddie let out a breath, not just the one he'd been holding, but also the one that had his chest in a tight grip ever since he moved back home. With that breath, he also let go of all the heartache, guilt, and shame of the past. None of it mattered anymore. If he kept clinging to them, he would be no better than Andy.

He reached for Chrissy's hand, which was resting on his cheek. "You're not the only one," he said.

As she looked into his eyes, he would've given anything to be able to stay like that forever, with Chrissy standing over him, her face bent toward his, their hands intertwined, and the sun shining softly through the trees behind her, turning her gold hair into a perfect halo.

A branch snapped somewhere in the woods, breaking the spell.

Eddie cursed under his breath. His only consolation was that Chrissy was looking slightly flustered and disappointed, while she packed up the first-aid kit.

As she turned to leave, Chrissy blurted out, "Why don't you come to the game this Friday night? It'll be a walk down memory lane—oh, sorry." She winced. "I forgot that you don't care about—what did you call it? A game where you—"

"—where you toss balls into laundry baskets," Eddie said with a rueful smile. "I did say a lot of stupid shit back then. No, you don't have to apologize. It's just that—I have to work Friday night."

"Oh."

"But you're welcome at the Hideout anytime," he said, emboldened by her crestfallen look. "Drinks are on me."

Her face brightened. "I'll hold you to that."

"So... guess I'll see you around then?" he asked.

"Looks like it." She flashed him another crooked smile and walked off, while Eddie remained at the bench, feeling like he was fourteen again.

***

Wayne came out of the bedroom to find his nephew sitting on the fold-out bed. When Eddie first came home, Wayne had tried to give the bedroom back, saying the fold-out had served him well for ten years and would serve him well again, but Eddie had vehemently refused. His reason was that he was the one working nights now, and he didn't want to wake Wayne up when he came home early in the morning. In the end, Wayne had relented. He knew Eddie's guilt about having to move back in with him; no need to make the boy feel worse than he already did.

Eddie's face was bruised and bandaged, but he was looking more content than Wayne had ever seen him since he came home. And he had taken his guitar out of its case and was strumming a soft melody, occasionally stopping to jot something down in a battered old notebook in front of him. Wayne took that as a good sign.

"Mornin'," he said, shuffling toward the kitchen, making no comment on Eddie's late return or injuries. "You want some breakfast?"

"Hmm," Eddie replied distractedly, his attention still on the notebook.

It was his first attempt at writing a song in about eight months. He was a little rusty, but it felt good to pick up the guitar.

They say you can never go home again. But what if you can make the place feel like home? By peopling it with those that you know and love, and those that know you and, perhaps, if not love, then at least like you back?

She'd asked him to a game.

She'd said she'd see him around.

Maybe he could get someone to cover his shift...

"Hey Wayne," Eddie said, looking up from his guitar. "You ever watch a basketball game at Hawkins High?"

Wayne turned away from the pan of sizzling bacon to eye Eddie suspiciously. "Since when did you become interested in high school basketball?"

"Since today."

"Why?"

"No reason." Eddie shrugged, then he grinned, that familiar ear-to-ear grin that Wayne hadn't seen in a long, long time. "Just wondering if I could suffer through it this Friday night."

A/N: OK, I meant for this to be a one-shot, but my brain kept screaming at me to add more, so maybe I will expand on it later… not as a full multi-chaptered fic, but as a series of interconnected one-shots. We'll see.

#hellcheer #eddissy #hellcheersource #hellcheer fic #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #everybody lives/nobody dies #older eddie munson #one shot

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