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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

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how people can change

steve harrington x gn!byers!reader

word count: 4,427

warnings: swearing, like one use of y/n, mentions of season one steve's bullshit, mentions of death, enemies to friends to more type beat

a/n: my very first *full* steve fic. look at us. who woulda thought? not me. i've been working on this since february. don't look at me, i know. i know. but i think i've gotten some sort of hold on how i'd like to write steve. some of the dialogue (season 2) isn’t mine. (also the title is a lyric from strange by celeste!) let me know what you think, okay? i love you. steve loves you. don't tell me if it's bad.

————

November 1984

The door slams behind you with a deafening thud, and you take the extra five seconds to lock it. You know, that action no one else in your family seems to be capable of performing.

The house is quiet, and you step over the map of Hawkins sprawling over the hardwoods, careful not to damage Will’s work.

Your keys clang against the table, knocking into your mother’s ashtray. It’s dead quiet again, and you freeze at a subtle interruption in the silence. There’s a muffled sound coming from somewhere else in your home, and frankly you’ve had enough of everything the last couple of days. Which is why Joyce sent you home to get some sleep, to clear your head.

There’s no denying that you have a soft spot for Will. He’s always been your buddy. And you love Jonathan, you do, and he’s got this sick ability to know what you’re thinking or feeling before you do, but he doesn’t need your protection like Will does.

Will is your best friend. And he’s got one hell of a support system with you, Jonathan and your mom behind him. He deserves the world. You’ve always thought that.

You quickly infer that it’s a walkie making the sound, based on the staticky crackle, the slightly muffled voice of whoever’s trying to get through from the other side.

Yours is off—you know it is—so it has to be Will’s. Jonathan was too good for a walkie-talkie.

You step down the hallway, pushing your younger brother’s bedroom door the rest of the way open. You scan the small area for it, listening.

“Code red! This is a code red! I repeat, this is a good red! Shit, is anyone there?”

You snatch up the device, extending the antenna.

“Dustin? Is that you?”

“Jesus christ! Where have you been?” Dustin exclaims, and you swear you can hear someone else interfering with his words.

“Sorry! I wasn’t home. What’s wrong?” You sit on the edge of Will’s bed. It’s so much comfier than yours.

“It’s Dart! He’s, he’s just…you know what? It’s a long story. Where are you right now?”

This time you definitely hear another voice, and maybe even music.

“Dart? You kept him, right? I fucking knew it, Henderson! You’re so not a good liar.”

“That’s for sure.” You can’t place the voice, not over the walkie and over Dustin’s rambling, but you do catch that and it’s enough to leave you curious.

The boy starts to argue back, but you cut him off. “Dustin, who are you with?”

“Uh,” he coughs, “Well you see, um…Steve Harrington. I’m with Steve Harrington.”

Dustin gets a severe eye roll from said partner-in-crime, but he brushes it off.

“What?” You’re so confused. How did that even happen?

“I know! But everyone’s been MIA!”

“Oh my god,” you say, and Dustin can practically see you face-palming.

“Look,” he shoves a handful of rogue curls back under the brim of his hat. “Can you just meet up with us? The old junkyard?”

You push off of Will’s bed, and start walking through the house again, retrieving your things. So much for a nap or eating anything other than hospital Jell-O. What are you gonna say? Fuck no?

“Yeah, yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank god,” Dustin breathes. “See you then. Over.”

You make sure to check the batteries in Will’s walkie before you go, and then you’re back in your car again, backing out just as aggressively as your mother (something you said you’d never do).

————

“Yeah, Farrah Fawcett. You tell anyone I just told you that, and your ass is grass you’re dead, Henderson. Do you understand?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

Dustin goes quiet for a minute, watching each step he takes. The train tracks are old, and there are one too many loose nails for his liking. “So what’s Y/N got against you, man?”

Steve adjusts one of the gloves he’s wearing, trying not to think about the fact that he’s gonna smell like raw meat for who knows how long. “Uh, I don’t know, exactly. Never really talked to them before. But I’d assume it’s the–”

“The assholery?” Dustin interrupts.

“Dude.”

“What? It’s true.”

“No, yeah, you’re right.”

Dustin catches the slip in Steve’s attitude almost immediately. “Hey, they’re good, okay? I don’t think you’re a total dick, if that means anything. You’re trying and that’s what matters, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, we will. Thanks, Henderson.”

Dustin gives Steve a winning smile. This kid could rule the world, he thinks.

“Anytime,” Harrington. He lifts his hand up, awaiting a fist bump that Steve returns without a second thought.

————

You wander down the trail of raw meat you’ve found, not bothering to even question what's happening or where the meat came from. Frankly, you don’t really want to know.

At the end of your path, you catch a glimpse of familiar curls, even if they are crushed under the red brim of a hat.

“Dustin?”

The boy practically gives himself whiplash turning around to face you.

“Holy shit, I’m so glad you’re here. It’ll be nice to have someone older than me who’s not a total pain in the ass.”

“Hey, I heard that.”

The voice pulls your attention away from Dustin. When you look up, Steve Harrington is walking out of the biggest vehicle in this abandoned lot: a school bus. He’s wiping his hands on his jeans and pushing the ends of his sleeves up.

Dustin looks at you. “You guys have to be acquaintances at the least, right?”

You nod at him, feeling your face burn. If there’s a word for a less-than-acquaintance, you don’t know it. But that’s probably where your relationship with this boy lies. King Steve isn’t really someone you just miss.

But yeah, you know him. You know he’s a dick.

“Hi.” Steve pushes his sunglasses up into his hair and crosses his arms.

“Hi.”

You only look at him for a moment before your eyes are back on Dustin. The younger boy notices the tension radiating from you, and honestly, he gets it. Steve Harrington wasn’t exactly the person he’d planned on spending his day with, but here he was. Desperate times call for desperate measures or whatever.

“So what are we doing?” You ask.

Dustin puts his thumbs underneath the straps of his backpack, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little. “It’s a long story. Best if we talk while we work.”

You roll your eyes at him, but follow the thirteen-year-old wherever he wants to go. You’re not sure you could deny Dustin Henderson anything.

————

You watch as Max, a young girl you’ve just met, stomps up the steps of the ladder you’ve rigged inside the mess of a bus that you’re camped out in.

Your chest aches because what Dustin just said to her was rude, it was rude, and you can’t believe the two of them. You sit, arms crossed and leg shaking up and down, glaring at Steve.

You find it hard to believe that after everything you’ve learned tonight, about Dart, about Mews—which you’re never going to get over because you only visit Dustin’s house for his cat, never him—that this is what they’re doing now.

“That’s good,” Steve says. “Just show her you don’t care.”

Dustin is pacing, hands deep in his pockets. “I don’t,” he breathes.

Steve winks. Watching the two of them is like watching a tennis match. You don’t even like tennis.

“Why are you winking, Steve?”

You drag your hand down your face, sick of hearing this stupid ass conversation. When Dustin sits, the constant clink of metal where Steve keeps flicking his lighter open over and over starts to give you a headache.

“Fuck, Steve, would you quit it already?”

He scoffs, snapping the lid to his Zippo closed harder than he had been before. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re pissing me off, that’s my problem.”

Steve’s brow furrows. He doesn’t really understand the sudden need for aggression.

“Is this really the time for you to be yelling at me?”

“Is this really the time for you to be a dick?”

Dustin jerks the antenna on his walkie down, clearly sick of the two of you. “Would you children stop bickering? This is a life or death situation we have going on here.”

“I’d prefer death,” you proclaim.

Dustin glares at you. “I can arrange that if you’d really rather die, than act civil for one evening.”

“I think all of the civility,” you gesture vaguely with your hands, “went out the window when you asked me to come help fight demo-dogs.”

Steve snorts at your words, and you glare at him, an “oh, is that funny?” look on your face.

Dustin rearranges the hat on his head, stuffing his curls underneath it once again. “Alright. I’m gonna go check on our status, you two…work shit out, okay?”

“Dude,” Steve starts, “I’m older than you. I don’t have to listen to your instructions.” He gestures vaguely with his hands.

Dustin flips him off, and that’s the only response Steve receives, leaving the two of you alone in the bus.

You remain quiet, hoping that if you do you might just disappear or dissolve into the cracked leather of the seat you're sitting on. Then there really wouldn’t be any form of confrontation.

Steve starts flipping the lid to his Zippo open and shut repeatedly again, but this time it doesn’t annoy you. In fact, it gives you something to focus on, and you know that if you had one you’d be doing the same exact thing.

You wonder if he’s nervous. Or just bored.

Your knee begins to bounce when you realize that he’s looking at you, that he’s stopped messing with the lighter. But you refuse to look back, staring instead at the way the moonlight glints off of the metal in between his fingers.

“So what’s your problem with me?”

The way Steve says those words is so unlike the way he’s spoken the rest of the day, the way he’s behaved with Dustin, that you feel a pang in your chest.

He sounds like he used to.

“Did you even hear that? How conceded you just sounded? Like it’s funny that I might have a problem with you, king Steve?”

Obviously the use of his nickname hits a nerve. He shoves the lighter back into his pocket and sits up, tucking his hands under his knees.

“Would you just cut the shit and tell me what your problem is then?”

You sit up, matching his stance. There’s a part of you that wants to piss him off. You ache for it.

“You’re a dick, that’s my problem.”

Steve scoffs.

“That’s it? Like I don’t already know that?”

You roll your eyes, oblivious to the fact that all three of the younger kids you’re with have their heads hung over the escape latch in the top of the bus, listening eagerly.

“You think I’m just gonna put up with you, Harrington? I’m sorry, did you forget the slut shaming you and your shitty friends did publicly last fall? Because I sure as hell didn’t. I didn’t forget that you walk around like you fucking own the entirety of Hawkins because you’re swimming in daddy’s money. I didn’t forget that your girlfriend took my best friend away from me.”

You stop, and Steve just looks at you. You realize how heavy you’re breathing and subconsciously watch the steady movement of his chest, trying to match the pace and calm down. You hadn’t meant to get worked up like that. But sometimes…sometimes shit just happens.

Steve sighs. Honestly he feels a little sick. And he could argue with you some more, say that you don’t know what you’re talking about, that that’s the past, that he’s getting better. But that feels shallow. It feels meaningless. Because he knows it’s true. That in worrying about only himself or getting the girl or impressing whoever, he hurt loads more people than he realized.

It’s such bullshit, he thinks. This life he’s been living.

“You know, I’ve gotten plenty of earfuls about my actions from Dustin, I promise you that much. He can be very mean.”

You snort, considering there’s absolutely no denying that. “He’s a smart kid.”

Steve nods. He’s trying to think of a way to respond. He’s not good with words.

“Look, I-I know I’m a dick, okay?” he starts. You decide to be brave and look at him. He seems to like that. The eye contact. It’s like it lets him know you’re paying attention. He doesn’t get a lot of that, not away from school.

“The thing with Nancy,” he gestures with his hands, looking away from you and at the wall of the bus, like it hurts him to talk about or something. “I don’t know. My solution to not getting what I wanted was apparently to take it out on her. Tommy H. proposed the idea, and I didn’t stop it.”

“You know I cleaned it off, right?” he continues.

You uncross your arms and sit up, criss crossing your legs instead. “No. I didn’t know that.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like I broadcasted the information across Hawkins. Tommy and Carol don’t even know.”

Oh. The fact that they didn’t know tells you that he did it without needed recognition. He did it because he wanted to.

“I just—she saw it. And then there was the whole thing…”

You start to grin before you catch yourself, but he sees it.

“It’s okay, you can laugh. I got the shit beat out of me.”

“You deserved it.”

He can’t argue with that. He won’t argue with it. “You’re right. I did. I said and did a lot that day that I regret.”

You nod, and then you’re both just looking at one another. It’s quiet out here, the same quiet you get at home, where you can hear the crickets, where you know there will be lightning bugs in the warmer months, free to roam uninterrupted by human activity.

Steve pushes his hair from his forehead, and though he sees you track the movement of his hand, he doesn’t point it out.

“What did you mean about your friend?”

If you’re being honest with yourself, you hadn’t intended for that to come out, but being in such close proximity to Steve in this moment had just made everything spill out.

You try to wave him off. “That was a whole thing. I didn’t mean to spill my guts like that.”

“No, it’s okay, I want to know. If you want to tell me, that is.”

You nod, chewing at your thumb nail now. Steve has the urge to reach forward and pull it free so you won’t hurt yourself, but he doesn’t. Instead he stays still and quiet, watching you contemplate a while.

Eventually he decides to keep going.

“I’m trying, you know,” he tells you. You look up and it gives him that little push to continue speaking. “To be better. I know you think I’m a total dick, and you’re not wrong, I know that, but I really am trying to be better. To be a good influence on those little shits.” He quirks his head upwards where he knows all three of his charges are eavesdropping, without a doubt.

You take a second and look at him. Really look at him. He seems to carry himself differently, though it’s not something you’d notice if you weren’t looking. He’s not dressed like his mommy picked out his outfit. He looks messy. The mess draws you in.

“I believe you. And I-I know I shouldn’t stereotype you, but it’s just—”

“I am a walking stereotype,” Steve grins. So do you.

“Yeah. I guess so. But I believe that you’re working on it. I suppose some people don’t remain assholes forever.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, though a little distracted. You still haven’t told you what you meant, but that’s not what’s really bugging him.

There’s this pull inside him. This longing for a friend. A real friend. Not someone he knows just because their dads were up each other's asses, or someone he just sits with at lunch because they’re of the same status quo.

And he just feels so alone right now. What with Nancy, this girl he thought he was in love with and everything, but clearly she doesn’t feel the same. What’s he even supposed to do with that? Did he ever actually know anything about her?

It doesn’t matter.

What matters is that he’s sitting here with you, hanging out with thirteen-year-olds and hiding from creatures Steve’s brain can’t even begin to decipher.

“Barb,” you say. Steve panicked a little internally at the mention of her name, considering. But he keeps his eyes on you, focused on each word that leaves your mouth. “She was my best friend, in middle school that is.”

He nods. Oh. Oh.

“We were still close when we got to high school, had a little group and everything, right? And even though high school kinda fucks everything up, I didn’t want to believe that would happen to our little partnership, you know?”

He nods again, trying his best to pay attention. He’s trying harder than he ever has in school. He probably shouldn’t ever say that out loud.

“Anyways, she was my best friend. She was all I knew, and then we got to lovely Hawkins High, and she met Nancy. Nancy and I never really clicked, even when we tried. I guess it’s because I’ve always thought she was a pretentious bitch—sorry, Steve—but I don’t know. We just fell apart after that.”

“So Barb had Nancy and I had…no one. And the way my brain saw it was Nancy took my best friend from me, and then Nancy started seeing you, and so I saw those two from across the cafeteria, lounging with the popular kids. With you. And then she died.”

Steve is looking at you in a way he’s never looked at you before. Like he’s in awe of you. And it’s not anything negative. It’s warm. Understanding. Like something you’ve said has straightened something out in his brain, sorted something he couldn’t figure out on his own.

“S-so it was like we took her from you, in a way?” he asks.

“Yeah. And you didn’t. God, you didn’t. But it just felt like this…” you trail off, searching for the right words.

“Domino effect?”

“Yeah! Yeah. Exactly. And it’s not your fault, not at all. But I guess I already saw you as some dickish rich kid and that gave me another reason to stay the fuck away from you. And now that I’m saying it out loud I realize how awful it sounds because people change, you know?”

“No, I get it. I’ve been an asshole, and I’m sure I still am—Dustin can attest to that—but there are rich assholes that don’t change or probably won’t ever change. I know a few of them.”

You go quiet again. Steve doesn’t want you to stop talking. He’s starting to think he likes the sound of your voice.

“It’s good that you’re changing, Steve. I’m sorry I said you were such a dick.”

A breathy laugh leaves his throat. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m sorry for…everything.”

“Maybe we can make a truce or something. Start over. It’s not like we really know each other that well anyhow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s cool. Whatever you want.” He means that. He thinks he’d do whatever you wanted him to.

“Okay. Maybe we can just try and figure it out.”

“I’d like that,” Steve says. He stops himself from proclaiming that he wants to try and fix this with you. Because you’re listening to him. You’re not mad. He doesn’t want you to disappear on him after this.

You give him a small smile and he swears he might cry. Not that that feeling lasts.

“Hey!” Dustin is leaning down into the bus, hands clasped together. “I’m so glad we’ve got this handled, but we’ve got a code red, so let’s get this show on the road, yeah?”

————

June 1985

The door to the back room swings open, a frazzled boy rushing in. You drop your candy wrapper on the table, and Robin keeps talking about the girl that you missed coming in this morning. She was “such a babe.”

“Hello?” Steve stands in front of the both of you, hands on his hips. You have to fight back a laugh.

Your eyes find Steve’s immediately, and you swear they soften, but maybe you’re imagining it. You nudge Robin’s leg where your foot is propped up on one of the supports under her chair.

She stops flailing and looks up, seeing Steve’s hand raised where he’d been about to snap to get her attention. She quirks a brow. “Don’t you snap at me, Harrington! This is important shit.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Could you two come and help me? I’m dying out here!”

It’s one of the hottest days of the year, and Scoops has had a line since it opened at ten.

You look at your watch. “My shift doesn’t start for…fifteen minutes.” He rolls his eyes at you, though the gesture is void of any malice it could possibly hold.

“Yeah, well this is supposed to be my break, so get out there, Buckley!”

She stands, though she’s pouting. “Come on.”

“You took the job,” he says, shoving her through the door. Robin gives him a look that you can’t see, but you can practically feel it from across the small room.

Steve lets out an exaggerated sigh, ripping off the hat he’s been wearing and throwing it on the table in front of you.

You watch him rummage through a bag before he emerges from its depths with a banana and throws himself down in the chair across from you, lifting your leg up from where you’d moved it to occupy the seat Robin had abandoned. His hand is warm on the bare skin of your calf, and he shifts the chair some, laying your leg across both of his.

“Steve.”

“Huh?” He peels the banana, aggressively fast actually, and rips off a chunk, popping it into his mouth.

“Why do you have a banana?”

He meets your eyes. “Snack, duh.” He chews, and then gestures at the closed window. “Been working up a sweat out there I think I deserve a break.”

You grin at him, and he feels like he might hit the floor.

“Want some?” Steve pulls off a chunk and holds it out to you.

“Did you wash your hands?”

He gasps, mid-chew, and forces himself to swallow. “D-did I—yes, I washed my hands, mom, I’m not four.”

“Eh,” Robin’s voice breaks your little bubble. She’s pulled the window open–that way she can eavesdrop– propping herself up on her elbows.

That makes you laugh, and when you smile your cheek is full of banana and Steve swears something is breaking inside of him.

“Gang up on me then why don’t you,” he says, handing you the last piece he’s got left. He tosses the peel in the trash, “what do you want anyhow, Robin?”

“Your break is up, and her shift has started. Let’s get to slinging ice cream, shitheads!”

You wipe your hands on your shorts and hop up. Steve doesn’t move, just looks at you.

“C’mon, Steven. It’ll be lunch sooner than later.”

He grins. His eyes look tired and you wonder if he slept any last night. He told you once recently that he doesn’t always sleep well, that sometimes he has to listen to tapes in order to keep his head from being so busy, to keep the thoughts from being so loud.

Steve has told you a lot since last fall. There’s a significant bit more that you know that’s more than what he’s given Robin, but you know he’ll let her in. He just needs the time.

Though sometimes you think he might be giving you everything. The parts of himself he’s never shown anyone else. Because you’ve been such a good listener, and Steve’s never really had that before.

He wishes he had the balls to tell you more. But he can’t fuck it up this time. Not with you. You’re too good.

Steve is your best friend now. You know that. He knows it.

If yourself from a year ago could see you now, she’d probably knock your fucking teeth in. But he’s just so much more than you thought. You’re not sure you’ll ever forgive yourself for not thinking there could be more in him, though he’s told you not to be upset. You’ve told him the same when he berates himself for not having paid you more attention in school.

It’s the past. You can’t live there. And today, you’re scooping ice cream for pre-sticky kids, for shitty pay, but it doesn’t matter because you have him. You have Robin.

You stick out your hand, and Steve takes it without a second thought. His palm engulfs yours, skin warm and a little calloused.

“We can watch whatever you want tonight.”

He squeezes your hand. You and Robin are supposed to have a sleepover with him tonight. He suggested he sleep in a guest room and you two have his bed, but Robin said she needs to be cuddled. You said you’re not letting him sleep anywhere but his bed.

“I thought you wanted to watch Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”

“I always wanna watch that. But you can pick first, Stevie.”

Stevie. His stomach flips at that. You don’t let it out often, but when you do it’s like Steve might just die right there.

He straightens, deal clearly made, and you pull him up–not that you need to.

You push through the door with him, and immediately regret it. It’s like the soccer moms can smell your fear, and you know it.

“Breathe,” Steve says. “Dustin’s here.”

He is. The entire party. That you can deal with.

You think you could deal with an absurd line and angry mothers for the rest of your life if it meant assembling Dustin and Lucas’ weird orders. Even if you have to endure Will’s questioning looks and his pleas that you bring some ice cream home. If you have to listen to Robin’s word vomit.

If it meant spending time with Steve, you’d do it.

God, how shit changes.

————

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solarmorrigan · 1 year

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Steve crochets Eddie a scarf part 1, part 2, part 3, Ao3

Steve has heard of knitting circles, of course, but he’d never expected to be a part of one.

(Of course, since it’s just him, Joyce, and El, and none of them knit, it’s really more of a crocheting triangle – except for that one time Murray Bauman joined them; he knits, because of course he does, and that had made it into more of a mixed yarncraft square, but that doesn’t really roll off the tongue.)

He also hadn’t expected that the true purpose of a knitting circle (crocheting triangle) is not to better facilitate any kind of fiber crafting, but mostly to spend time snacking and gossiping.

He can’t say he really minds.

“So, Steve,” Joyce says, looking up from the baby blanket she’s been working on (one of her coworkers, Margey, is pregnant; she’s a nice young woman whose boyfriend doesn’t deserve her, and who very much hopes she’s having a girl, even though her boyfriend wants a son, so Joyce is making the blanket optimistically—or vindictively—pink. Steve loves that he knows all of this), “I never did ask – did that someone like their scarf?”

“Oh. Um.” He has no idea how to answer that. Eddie had definitely liked the scarf, had liked it enough to give Steve a gift in return—a very thoughtful one, actually—and then Steve had gone and ruined it and probably scared Eddie away forever, and maybe now Eddie wanted nothing to do with the scarf?

Steve really has no idea.

He’s probably been silent for too long, though.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure they did. Thanks again for your help.”

Steve follows this statement with an incredibly nonchalant gulp of coffee, which is about when El turns to him and asks, “Who is ‘someone’? Did you finish a scarf for someone other than Eddie?”

Coffee is not air, and it does not belong in Steve’s lungs. Luckily, he only inhales a little bit of it, and manages to cough it out before Joyce feels the need to reach over and thump him on the back.

“No. Nope, just… just Eddie’s,” Steve rasps, decidedly not looking at the knowing smile that’s tucked itself up in the corners of Joyce’s mouth.

“Oh. Well, then he definitely likes it,” El says. “He’s wearing it every time I see him.”

“That sounds like a good sign,” Joyce says leadingly.

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve shrugs and focuses on his new project (Henderson’s scarf; it’s thinner than Eddie’s but broader, so it can be folded over, and he’s making it with colorful, variegated yarn).

“Are you going to ask him out?” Joyce asks.

Steve wonders if it’s possible to drown himself in his cup of coffee.

It doesn’t matter either way; El’s attention has already snapped back to him, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, and she’d probably just find a way to drag him back from the dead.

“Are you?” El demands with a grin.

Abandoning his crochet hook, Steve reaches up to shove his fingers under his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose (he’s still getting used to the glasses; he doesn’t like wearing them, but they do help with his migraines, and Joyce makes disappointed Mom faces at him when he doesn’t wear them, so he at least brings them to the crochet triangle). “Probably not.”

He can hear the frown in El’s voice as she asks, “Why not?”

“Pretty sure I blew my chances there,” Steve sighs.

“What happened?” Joyce asks; when Steve lets his glasses fall back into place to chance a glance in her direction, she looks sympathetic.

It’s been about a week since Steve sent Eddie running from his house, and Steve hasn’t really had the opportunity to talk to anyone about it yet. Robin would usually be the first (and probably only) person to hear about it, but he hasn’t quite been ready for what he knows will be an entirely honest, but not entirely gentle, assessment of the situation.

El and Joyce are likely to be kinder, but it also feels a little weird to talk to them about his love life. Joyce has been more of a mother to him than his own ever was, and even though El is rapidly approaching sixteen, she’s still like nothing so much as a kid sister. Do people talk about this sort of thing with family members? Steve has no idea.

Whatever.

“He, uh. He actually brought me a gift,” Steve finally says, finding great interest in the view out the window behind Joyce. “Like, to say thank you for the scarf.”

Joyce nods encouragingly.

“What was it?” El asks.

“A, uh. A Hellfire shirt. For his little nerd club. Except he said that it’s our nerd club now because I’m a member, even though I don’t play.” Steve shrugs. “I guess because I do other stuff for them.”

“That sounds nice, Steve,” Joyce says, and Steve nods.

“It was. It is! It was really nice, and I wanted to show him I appreciated it, so I gave him a hug, right? And that was nice, too, and he returned it, and he – like, he seemed interested,” Steve’s on a roll now, there’s no stopping the car crash of words coming out of his mouth, of all the habits he had to pick up from Robin– “so, y’know, when he said he hoped he got the right size shirt, I said maybe I should try it on to make sure, and he said that was a good idea, and—I would like to reiterate, he really seemed interested—so I just, y’know, kinda took off my shirt right there. In front of him. To try the new one on. And I might’ve thrown the other one at him. And he left very quickly after that.”

Of all the reactions Steve had expected, Joyce laughing at him hadn’t been high on the list, but that’s exactly what she does. So hard she nearly falls out of her chair.

Steve watches her in open-mouthed shock for a moment before exclaiming, “It’s not funny!”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry!” Joyce gasps in between peals of laughter, flapping a hand at him. “Of course it isn’t!”

This draws a giggle out of El, and Steve turns to point a finger at her. “Don’t you start, too.”

El slaps a hand over her mouth, but it’s very clear that she, too, is laughing.

“I seriously think I scared him off!” Steve insists. “He ran out of there so fast he took my sweater with him. I liked that sweater.”

This only makes Joyce laugh harder, and Steve has no choice but to sit back on the couch with a huff and wait for the mirth to die out.

“Okay,” Joyce breathes, running a thumb under her eyes to catch the tears while El does her best to bite down on her smile. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m good now.”

Steve grumbles, picking his scarf back up, but he can’t say that he’s really that displeased; it’s nice, after everything, to hear everyone still laugh (and even if he’d prefer it not be at his expense, he doesn’t mind now and then).

“Do you want my advice, sweetie?” Joyce asks.

“Since I’m providing entertainment, it only seems fair,” Steve says, and Joyce snorts.

“Okay.” She abandons her chair and comes to perch on the arm of the sofa beside Steve, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a one-armed hug that he doesn’t resist in the slightest. “You probably did come on a little strong.”

Steve sags a little against Joyce, and she’s quick to continue. “But! I really don’t think you ruined your chances. Maybe he just wasn’t expecting such an… immediate reaction, or maybe he was worried that he was misreading the situation–”

“How can you misread someone taking their shirt off?”

“People convince themselves of all sorts of things where love is involved,” Joyce says, rubbing Steve’s shoulder, and Steve mentally swaps out ‘love’ for ‘feelings,’ because he can’t think about love right now (not again, not yet). “But Eddie seems like a pretty straightforward kind of guy; I’m sure he’d have told you if he wasn’t interested. You should just be honest with him. Talk to him.”

“But that’s not how it works,” El pipes up from Steve’s other side.

Steve and Joyce both look over, and El sets down the rainbow beanie she’s been working on (it has an absolutely excessive pompom on top, and Steve really hopes she’s planning to make Mike wear it), preparing to explain.

“In the movies,” El says earnestly, “that is not how it works. No one just talks about it, that’s… weird.”

Steve grins. El’s latest endeavor in pop culture education has been romcoms; she’s been devouring the entire section at Family Video, and Steve has taken great pleasure in offering her recommendations (Robin, meanwhile, insists he’s poisoning El’s mind with pre-packaged, heteronormative trash; Steve says Robin is just jealous that El doesn’t like her film recommendations; Robin tells Steve to go crochet a doily; then they get into an argument over the purpose of doilies—Robin insists they’re purely decorative, but Steve is certain they must have some kind of use—and forget about their original argument entirely).

“She has a point,” Steve says. “I can’t just go up to Eddie like, ‘Hey, sorry for sorta stripping in front of you, are we still cool, man?’ That would be really awkward.”

Joyce gives him a dry look. “Well you don’t have to phrase it like that.”

“Exactly!” Steve snaps his fingers, pointing at Joyce. “I can still talk to him, I just have to… you know, talk around it. Play it cool.”

El nods sagely. “Play it cool,” she echoes.

“See? El’s got me.” Steve grins, gesturing back at El for good measure.

“Okay.” Joyce holds her hands up, as if in surrender. “Apparently you guys know best. I’ll just take my advice and my happy relationship and go back to my chair.”

Steve shrugs. “Well, yeah, your method worked on Hopper, but I’m not trying to get with Hopper.”

“Ew.” El reaches over and gives Steve a shove. Joyce has a hand over her eyes, clearly trying not to laugh again.

“It’ll be fine, you’ll see,” Steve insists, and Joyce gives an affirmative hum that doesn’t really sound like she believes him at all.

But she will see. He’s just going to play it cool, Steve decides, as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and goes back to crocheting a scarf for a mouthy fifteen-year-old he has trouble saying ‘no’ to.

He’s totally cool.

Steve realizes as the phone starts ringing that maybe he should have come up with a plan before dialing Eddie’s number.

The thing is, Steve isn’t really much of a planner; he has an idea, he follows through with the idea. He can deal with the consequences of the idea when they arise.

Unfortunately, the consequence of his current idea is Eddie answering the phone, and it has just arisen.

“Hello?”

Steve blanks.

Greeting. He should greet Eddie.

“Hey, Eddie.”

Nice.

“Steve. Hey.” Eddie doesn’t sound displeased, but maybe a little higher pitched than normal. Nervous? Maybe that’s just the connection.

There is a moment of awkward silence in which neither of them says anything because Steve is the one who called and he hasn’t told Eddie what he called for, mostly because his idea had pretty much boiled down to ‘call Eddie, feel out the situation, but don’t talk about the thing.’

It’s Eddie who finally speaks, sounding more like himself when he asks, “So, what can I do for you?”

“Oh, I was just calling to… check,” Steve pauses, briefly, thinking frantically, “what kind of snacks you wanted. For Friday.”

“…Friday.”

Steve’s stomach drops. Did Eddie actually want nothing to do with him now, or had he just forgotten?

“Yeah. You guys were planning to play over at my place this week. That’s… still a thing, right?”

“Right! Yes, yeah, it’s – yeah.” Steve can almost see Eddie nodding on the other end. “I just wasn’t sure you’d… want to.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” Steve frowns; they are perilously close to talking about it.

“Uh. No reason, I guess? Didn’t want to make assumptions on your behalf,” Eddie says. “Y’know, sweep in and totally take over your house when you’re not feeling it, and then you’re standing there giving us invaders your best mom glare.”

Steve rolls his eyes, fond despite himself. “I do not have a mom glare,” he says (Eddie isn’t going to listen, just like no one else listens when he tries to tell them the same thing). “Anyway, how about you just tell me what you want to eat, huh?”

“Oh, you know me, I’m not picky,” Eddie says breezily. “I’ll eat whatever you want to feed me.”

“You know that means you’re not allowed to complain about what I pick, right?” Steve says, banishing the thought of actually feeding something to Eddie (but– flirting. Flirting is a good sign, right?).

“Not a peep. Cross my heart,” Eddie says, and Steve can’t help but smile in response to the way he’s certain Eddie must also be smiling right now.

“Uh huh,” Steve hums, as if he doesn’t believe Eddie (and he doesn’t, really, because Eddie is pickier than he makes himself out to be, and he will complain if only to be a nuisance), and he wants to leave it there, leave it on that light note of banter, but– he also wants to be sure. “Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to wear the shirt?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Well, it is standard club attire, Steve,” Eddie teases, and Steve gives in to a little huff of frustration.

He bites the bullet, decides to be just a little more direct. “Sure, but– do you want me to wear it?”

“I–” Eddie starts, stops, falls silent. Steve holds his breath. Then, finally: “Yeah. I really do.”

Steve sighs out into a grin. “Great. I’ll, uh. I’ll see you Friday, then?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, “I’ll see you Friday.”

Steve’s pretty sure he hasn’t had fucking butterflies in his stomach since maybe his junior year of high school, but damn if he doesn’t get them now, just thinking about the end of the week.

(He’s probably beyond pretending he’s anything like cool about this, but he’s surprisingly okay with that.)

Friday evening brings the promised onslaught of invaders, and Steve greets them at the door, the foyer filling with the squeaking of snow-wet shoes and the extended rustling of winter coats being shucked and shoved into the closet.

It’s the kids who come in first—just Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will tonight—chattering at each other and at Steve and making themselves right at home, as usual, but it’s the older Hellfire members who clock Steve’s shirt first. He can see the moment Jeff sets eyes on it, elbowing Gareth and nodding at Steve; Gareth snickers, which alerts Grant, who looks at Steve and rolls his eyes.

Steve raises his eyebrows at the three of them, but they don’t seem inclined to say anything. They don’t even seem that surprised.

Dustin, however, speaks up almost immediately upon noticing.

“Steve, what are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” Steve retorts. “What are you wearing?”

Mike, now alerted to Steve’s choice in attire, looks utterly affronted. “Where the hell did you get that?” he demands.

“It was a gift, Wheeler, don’t burst a blood vessel,” Steve says, which does not seem to go a long way at all in getting the kid to chill out.

“The t-shirts are for Hellfire members only,” Mike says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Which is how we know Steve is a member,” Eddie says from the doorway, where he’s finally made it in from parking the van, his jacket still zipped and the scarf Steve made for him wrapped around his neck.

“He’s not, though!” Mike insists. “He doesn’t even play!”

Eddie hums, stepping fully into the foyer and shutting the door behind himself before making a show of looking around the room.

“Tell me, Wheeler: whose house are we in right now?”

Mike stares at Eddie, brows raised, not quite able to tell if he’s being asked a trick question or not. “Steve’s?”

“And who probably has snacks waiting in the kitchen for our ravenous horde?” Eddie goes on.

This time, Mike sighs. “Steve, but–”

Eddie cuts in. “And who gives those of you without the ability to legally operate a motor vehicle rides to and from club meetings whenever your little hearts desire?”

“Technically, we rode with Jeff and Grant tonight,” Dustin pipes up.

“Other club members! An excellent point, Henderson!” Eddie points to Dustin in agreement, who mostly looks baffled, if a little amused. “It’s a service we provide for each other.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but–”

“Now tell me, Wheeler,” Eddie rolls right over Mike’s protest, slinging an arm across his shoulders. “Who founded the Hellfire Club?”

“You did,” Mike says, glancing uncertainly at Eddie.

“And who ultimately decides whether or not to grant membership to another person?”

“…You do.”

“And who, pray tell, has the ability to make tonight’s session very challenging for our party’s gallant paladin?” Eddie smiles, sharply saccharine in the face of Mike’s sour frown, and reaches up to pat Mike on the cheek when he doesn’t answer. “And don’t you forget it.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Couldn’t you have picked a better-fitting shirt, though?” Lucas asks Steve.

“It was a gift,” Steve reiterates. “And shut up, this fits fine.”

“Right,” Dustin drawls, looking from Steve to Eddie with narrow-eyed suspicion.

“I didn’t realize my fashion choices were that interesting,” Steve scoffs. “Are you guys gonna play tonight, or not? Some of you do still have a curfew, and I’m not fielding angry parent calls again.”

This gets everyone back in motion, the group trickling out of the foyer and through the living area to get to the dining room. Gareth is the last one to go, bouncing his eyebrows and grinning at Eddie, who gives him an entirely ineffectual shove and sends him laughing out of the room.

And then it’s just Eddie and Steve.

“I really do like the shirt,” Steve says, hoping to fill the silence before it curdles awkwardly between them. “It’s comfy.”

Eddie smiles, different from the sharp one he’d pulled out a moment ago, now amused and fond and much more real. “It’s a good look for you,” he says, looking Steve up and down, and– that.

That had been the reaction Steve had been hoping for when he’d first put it on.

Maybe he had come on a little too strong at first. Maybe Eddie had just needed time. But whatever had happened, Eddie seems to be fully on board now.

“It’s definitely growing on me,” Steve says. “But I’m kind of getting the feeling that you like it more.”

“Guilty,” Eddie admits, with remarkably little guilt.

But when he steps forward, closing in on Steve’s space, the hand he raises is hesitant. Steve doesn’t move, tries very hard to broadcast that he is very alright with this, and smiles when Eddie finally brushes his fingers along the line of Steve’s collar.

“What can I say? I like seeing a little me on you,” Eddie says.

Steve reaches up to tug at the scarf, still tied around Eddie’s neck. “I think I know the feeling,” he says. “But you should let me take these for you. You have to be melting by now.”

“We don’t all run hot, Harrington,” Eddie grumbles, even as he’s unwrapping the scarf. “I even dressed in an extra layer tonight.”

Steve is about to ask Eddie what the hell he’s talking about when Eddie unzips his jacket in one decisive motion and reveals– Steve’s sweater. The one Eddie had accidentally(?) walked out with last week.

He’s wearing it under his jacket.

It looks good on him, a bright splash of blue-green where there are usually only more subdued shades, and Steve can only take Eddie’s jacket with automatically curling fingers as it’s pressed into his hand.

“I’ve been wondering if you were going to bring that back,” Steve finally says. “It’s one of my favorites.”

There’s a moment of flusterment before Eddie smirks at Steve. “You mean you didn’t want me to keep it? You seemed so worried about how cold I’ve been,” he says. “And you did throw it at me.”

It’s Steve’s turn to flush under Eddie’s words. “Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you to run off with it.”

Eddie bites his lip. “Okay, yeah, I might’ve… panicked. A little bit,” he admits. “I wasn’t really expecting to, uh. To get what I wanted. Wasn’t sure what to do with it.”

Alright– alright, fine. Steve concedes. They might have to actually talk about it. Just a little.

“You don’t have to do anything with it. You’re not obligated,” Steve says. “But it’s there for you, whenever you want it. If you do still want it.”

Eddie’s eyes meet Steve’s, dark and sincere. “I really, really do. Didn’t mean to make you doubt.”

The silence sits softly between them this time, filled with a smiling kind of certainty. Steve isn’t particularly worried about it becoming awkward, but he finds he can’t help but tease, “So do I get my sweater back, or what?”

“Well, it is kind of warm, now that I’m inside. I guess I should give it back,” Eddie says.

He takes a step back from Steve and promptly whips the sweater off, rucking up the Hellfire shirt he’s wearing underneath and revealing a stretch of lean stomach before he pulls the hem of the t-shirt back down and tosses the sweater at Steve.

“That’s better,” Eddie declares. “I can go get the game started now.”

The teasing glint in Eddie’s eye as he turns away is all Steve needs to dump the clothes in his arms onto the side table and reach out to catch Eddie around the waist.

“Nope, not yet,” Steve says, pulling Eddie back towards him.

Eddie starts to speak, maybe to question him, probably to tease him, but Steve thinks they’ve waited long enough. With one hand still resting on Eddie’s waist, Steve brings his other up to cup his cheek, and leans in.

He can’t say who really initiates it, because Eddie meets him halfway and is kissing him back with equal fervor; he’s clearly recovered from the chill he’d been bothered by earlier, because his lips are warm and inviting against Steve’s.

They don’t stop until they stumble into the hall table, their surroundings having momentarily melted away into unimportant background fuzz.

“Figured I should really thank you for the shirt,” Steve barely pulls away enough to murmur against Eddie’s growing smile. “I thought about crocheting you a hat, but I think this is probably better.”

“Definitely better. But you know, I’ll have to reciprocate in kind.” Eddie shakes his head with the fakest look of regret Steve’s ever seen. “Shit, Steve, if I keep thanking you and you keep thanking me, we might be at this a while.”

Steve laughs, a small breath of amusement as he tilts his head to greet Eddie’s next kiss. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

[Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue | Ao3]

First, I’d like to thank @theysherobinbuckley for putting the idea of Steve, Joyce, and El having a crochet circle into my head. It was something I never knew I needed until I saw their tags

Second: Tag List. I hope I caught everyone, I am very sorry if I missed you, though!

@infinitetrashbag, @unclewaynemunson, @thehumblefigtree, @courtjestermunson, @tillystealeaves, @darkwitchoferie, @phantypurple, @ceaselessly-watching, @annabell257, @momotonescreaming, @silentiumdelirium, @gamerdano, @panicatthediaz, @bejeweledbaby, @strawberryspence, @stevesbipanic, @henderdads @cuips-not-cute, @silversnaffles, @thegingervulcan, @cr0w-culture, @gamerdano, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @mightbeasleep, @tpwkweasley7, @sharkruption, @bye-zai, @paperbackribs, @stitchinaride, @cookies-and-doom, @maya-custodios-dionach, @twopenguinsunderatrenchcoat, @freddykicksasses, @flustratedcas, @marivictal

#steddie #steve & eleven #steve & joyce #steve harrington #eddie munson #el hopper #joyce byers #stranger things #that it! that's the end!#I did write a tiny epilogue sort of thing because I have no self control #and I'll put that up in a few days probably #but other than that!#solar wrote #eddiesteve

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sicklyseraphnsuch · 4 months

Text

(prev)

When Hiccup returns to the hut, he finds their guest awake, and sitting up. That's good. That's an improvement. Before Hiccup could take a better look at the guy, Gothi parks herself in front of him.

"He's delicate," she scribbles on the ground. "The seas left its mark. Don't excite him too much." She punctuates those last two words with a tap of her walking stick.

Hiccup lifts both hands up. "Alright, okay! I'll be careful! You make it sound like I'm gonna give him a heart attack!"

"Are you?" A low voice croaks out.

Hiccup turns to face their guest. And yeah, okay. He gets where Gothi's coming from. The guy looks like he's two steps from entering Hel or Valhalla, probably Hel from the looks of him. He's thinner than Hiccup, but then again, Hiccup has filled out a little. He's got honest-to-Thor biceps now. But this guy - Hiccup has seen chickens with more meat on their wings than this guy has in his arms. And he's deathly pale, which makes sense given the circumstances. Seriously, Hiccup could trace the guy's veins - blue, nearly black, against his skin. Hiccup never had the good fortune of seeing a dead body - not the way Ruffnut and Tuffnut keep saying they have. But Hiccup hopes this guy will be the closest he'll ever get.

And yet... The weirdest part about this guy has to be his face. Hiccup can't figure it out but there's just something really weird about his face. It wasn't the eyes or the hair, both colored a common as dirt brown. So what...

"If you keep making a face like that, you'll really give me a heart attack," the guy murmurs, cutting through Hiccup's thoughts.

"I think you can manage one without any help..." Hiccup replies.

The guy snorts. "I'm feeling better if you can believe it." He nods at Gothi. "Can she talk? All she's done this whole time is stare at me. I swear I never saw her blink."

"Yeah... She does that. But um... good, I mean, about your uh health. Glad to hear it." Hiccup rubs the back of his neck. He's supposed to ask the guy more about himself, but outside of a straight up interrogation, he's never been good at the 'let's get to know each other' kinda stuff. They shoulda sent Gobber to do this, now there's someone that can get folks to tell stories. But Dad says it's all part of his Chief training, whatever that means.

"Thanks for pulling me out of the ice," the guy says. "This was mighty kind of you, and really, if there's any sort of payment I can offer, just let me know? Unless, I mean, my Mom spoke to you already?"

"Your... Mom...." Hiccup echoes. He can feel his face freezing up. His Mom? But there was never - They couldn't even find a shipwreck.

"Yeah, you know. A woman that looks kinda like me, almost like we're related or something." The guy goes on.

Hiccup's throat dries up and he clenches his jaw. This guy washed ashore with nothing but the strange clothes on his back. They figured him for dead before he started coughing like he was trying to throw up his lungs. It was... Yeah, Hiccup doesn't like remembering it too much. If this guy was that bad, then anyone else would be...

"And she keeps calling herself too old or that I'll give her gray hairs, but really she doesn't look a day over a hundred." The guy chuckles, or tries to, mostly he makes this wet, wheezing noise.

Hiccup opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again. "We... There was no one else in the water..."

He braces himself for the guy to start wailing, to froth up a rage - some kind of strong response. But the guy just tilts his head. And oh. Hiccup gets it now - the thing that's been bothering him about this guy's face. He's always kinda smiling. As if a grin is permanently pasted on his face, even when his hands are balled into fists, even when his shoulders are drawn in tight, even when there's literally nothing about him that matches a smile.

"Well... That's good, right? I was the only one in the water then. But so... Does my Mom know I'm here? Does my sister?"

Okay. Well. Now Hiccup's just confused. "No... How would we reach out to your family? Do they live nearby?"

"Uh... Yeah? I mean, maybe? Do you guys live anywhere near Hawthorne?"

"I... have never heard of that place."

"What? No. That can't be right. Hawthorne's barely the size of a village, sure, but it's the only settlement for miles!"

Hiccup slowly shakes his head. "No... I don't remember hearing of someplace like that."

At last, the guy's grin falls away as he scowls at the blankets. He chews on his lip, clearly thinking hard.

Hiccup tries to remember if he's ever heard of a Hawthorne. But he comes up blank. "I can -"

"Where is-"

They share a look. Now it's Hiccup's turn to crack a grin. "You first."

The guy blinks. "Oh, uh... I was um... Where am I now? Where is this?"

"Berk."

When the guy just gives him a blank stare, Hiccup folds his brow. Berk's been making a name for itself since they started the whole dragon co-existence thing. Surely, this guy would have heard all the rumors about them. Thor knows, they've been suffering the consequences from all that attention.

But this guy - there's not a shred of recognition in his expression. He could be faking it. Or 'the seas left its mark', as Gothi put it. Hiccup really wants to give him the benefit of doubt here.

"Berk, one of the isles in the Barbaric Archipelago? Home to the Hairy Hooligan tribe? No? None of that sounds familiar?"

The guy wordlessly shakes his head, fear starting to twist his face. Okay. That's not ideal.

"Is that... Is that anywhere near the New World?" The guy asks, his knuckles going white as he squeezes the blankets with both hands.

Gothi makes an irritated tap of her walking stick. Hiccup ignores her.

Did this guy just say the 'New World'? But that's just an old mariner's tale. And even if it was true, it's definitely nowhere near Berk.

The look on Hiccup's face must give him away because the guy locks up, eyes going wide, limbs closing tight and stiff.

"H... How... But I was just there! The pond was right by my village! How did this happen?!"

And that, Hiccup thinks, is the real question. Either this guy is a really good actor or he really has no memory. When he starts breathing faster, clutching his chest like it hurts, Hiccup makes a decision.

Dodging Gothi's stick, which tries to keep him away, Hiccup crouches next to the bed, putting himself at eye level with their guest. "Hey, we can figure this out, okay? You'll be back with your Mom in no time. Just... Just hang in there... Uhm..."

The guy looks at him, and there's that smile again - completely out of place given that he's literally one heartbeat away from a breakdown. "Ca-Call me Jack. And you?"

"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. But everyone calls me Hiccup."

#hijack #frostcup #rise of the guardians #how to train your dragon #journey to the past #jack frost #hiccup haddock

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transboysokka · 6 months

Note

This is a big ask so don't feel like you have to, but would you be interested in pitching some summaries of the fics you have up on Ao3? I know there are summaries up there, but I like the casual way you have with words and you say fuck a lot and I dunno yeah

omg this is so funny bc i know the exact way with words you're talking about and of course im not gonna pass up a chance to promote my own work hehe YOU GOT IT!

i have 20 atla fics so I'm going to recommend them in order of... least to most kudos??? to try to trick people into reading more of my stuff? lol idk

I'm 99% sure all of these are Zukka fics...

The Last Five Years - ok actually this is a bad place to start bc i don't think im gonna finish it. it just really didn't take off but um its a The Last Five Years AU with really fucking sad Divorced Zukka

Do Not Stand At My Grave and Cry - this is i think my newest one, it has trans zukka and it's a bit angsty with a fake death but i also think it's kind of fun. it's the idea trans people have of ''who's going to care if my family puts the wrong name on my gravestone?" but there IS a happy ending

A Problem Halved is a Problem Shared - im gonna be honest i dont fucking remember writing this one lol but it says dialogue-only and it WILL be angsty bc it is about zuko and sokka dealing with different issues they have

One Last Time (and its sequel The End of All Things) - Actually OLT is definitely one of my faves I ever wrote. It's my canon-compliant take on um... *cough* Sokka's death, referenced in Korra. It's SO angsty but it has one of the most visceral scenes I've ever written and I DID cry writing this. TEoAT is the happy ending Divorced Zukka deserved with bonus Iroh but you WILL cry reading that too. BUT i cant fucking recommend these ones enough!!!!

If I fade away (the awful things we do to make the head go quiet) - VERY dead dove. trans zuko needs to pay a MASSIVE price to get home to the Fire Nation after Ba Sing Se, and it's not his choice at all. I love this but READ WITH CAUTION

In Which Sokka is Supportive Ally Boyfriend Goals - I am dead serious i like dont remember this one at all but i know it has trans zuko!

Nourishing the Flame Within - not the best written tbhtbh BUT it does have two very important Zukos in it that I hold to be universally true: trans zuko and eating disorder zuko

bad idea right? - okay this is DEF one of my faves lol its about divorced zukka but they just cant stop messing things up and sleeping with each other even though theyre not together anymore lolol

Keeping it in the Family - lmao OKAY SO this is the ONE version of zukka that im like 'ok all u z*tara folks, maybe zuko WAS with her and it obvs didnt work' and then he hooks up with sokka instead and its GREAT but oops now we have Family Drama

Scars of Trust - bro im not gonna like i barely remember writing this one but i remember I LOVE IT and it's about sokka who has been dating zuko a while but he finally learns that zuko is trans? its great

Playing the Long Game - eh, i don't love it, but I'd say it's worth a read. it was my first longer fic in the fandom. it DOES have a great Zukki evolution though if you're into that, and a nice mystery!! Also some whump and angst bc of course

Keeping Score - I liked this one! It's just little snippets of times Sokka has survived assassination attempts, because we always hear about it happening to Zuko, but Sokka gets them too. Angst obviously

It Was Cruel and It Was Wrong - wow, a dead dove fic, yes. It's basically like "If I'm Joo Lee and you're Joo Lee, then who's flying the bison?" Yeah so Sokka and Zuko are both brainwashed by the Dai Lee and Suffering but be careful because this gets DARK

Mother - Izumi has two dads but she feels bad she doesn't have a mom. But guess what, her dads don't have moms either!! She's very happy to find that out! Wow Izumi, way to have some sympathy.

Impact - It's about Zuko taking a longer time to recover from an assassination attempt than he'd want, and Sokka being loving and patient with him! I wrote this when I had a bad concussion for like three weeks and so it's pretty like. Medically accurate lol

Scratchy - Short and sweet. I don't remember this one much but I know that it is fluffy and involves turtle ducks!

Hidden Pain, Shared Love - Another short and fluffy one. It's about the first time Zuko sees that Sokka has problems with his leg sometimes?

Zuko and Sokka Get Engaged in the Most Zukka Way Possible - okay i actually really love this one because it's on brand and cute and also i made it fucking angsty because oF COURSE

Zuko Amongst the Dragons - yes so what if zuko was raised by dragons and met the gaang but he was super feral? and what if shenanigans ensued? AND what if sokka and zuko fell in love anyway????

#quesTian #Anonymous #fic #fic recs #atla #zukka #divorced zukka #trans zuko #trans zukka

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maximons · 2 years

Text

Where Am I?

Chapter Summary: Going from swinging around New York City to waking up in an entirely new reality is a confusing and stressful as it sounds. But Y/n was used to life throwing curveballs, being Spider-Woman and all. But this...was definitely new. Where was she? And how does she get back home?

Word Count: 3,725

Warnings: Mentions of Violence

A/N: Hey guys! Welcome to my new mini series! This takes place after the movie, so here is your official warning: Spoiler Alert for Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness and Spider-Man: No Way Home. In this story, Y/n is based off of Miles Morales. Also, there’s another note under the cut, but it’s a spoiler. Hope you enjoy!

To Find A Home: Series Masterlist

*Okay, so here, MoM ended differently. Wanda still takes down the castle, but doesn’t bury herself inside. Instead, she’s taken back to Kamar Taj and imprisoned.*

Your eyes snapped open as you took in a huge gasp of air.

You did your best to get a sense of your surroundings, but everything around you was overwhelming your already heighted senses. You tried to slow your panicked breathing as the familiar sounds of New York filled your ears.

That’s when you noticed you were lying in the middle of 38th street. That’s probably why the honking sounded even louder than normal.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Get out of the road!”

And the shouting.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now!?”

“Take your shitty Spider-Man Cosplay somewhere else! People got actual jobs!”

Wait, what?

That last one got your attention. You sprang to your feet quickly, something the surrounding civilians clearly didn’t expect from you, and scanned the crowd. Your spidey senses picked up on the voice of the person who shouted that last statement.

“Hey, you!” You made a small leap over to the man, who jumped back slightly. “What did you mean by that? Spider-Man Cosplay?”

“Uh...yeah?” The man coughed as he regained his composure, thankful you weren’t coming over to attack him like he originally thought. “You got the pattern right, but Spider-Man’s blue and red, you got a mostly black thing going on.” He explained, and with every word you grew more confused, if not a little annoyed.

“Come on.” You sighed with annoyance. “I know Spider-Man’s been doing this way longer than me, but I’ve been around a while too y’know.”

The man looked at you as if you were crazy. And maybe with the tattered appearance of your suit and the fact that you were literally just lying in the middle of the street gave that thought some justification. “Am I supposed to know who you are?”

You scoffed. “I’m Spider-Woman.” You said like it’s obvious, but no recognition came across the man’s face. There was a small crowd surrounding you now that began whispering, some laughing at your statement.

“What, like his wife?” Someone else asked.

“What? Ew, no!” You rejected immediately. “No, come on, I saved the city like a bunch of times.”

“Yeah, sure you did.” Another voice piped up.

“Uh, yeah, of course I...” You trailed off. This wasn’t just a case of one or two people not following the news, the fact that literally no one around you knew who you were was seriously odd. Something was up. “I...sorry.” You excused yourself, choosing to walk away from the crowd instead of swinging to avoid more confrontation.

You tried to clear your head as you walked, but you couldn’t help but pick up on your surroundings, which made your suspicions grow.

‘I thought they took that building down months ago’

‘Isn’t the Daily Bugle a newspaper?’

‘Tony Stark is dead? Since when?’

Your short walk stopped when you got to Times Square. You looked up at the one of the billboards that was playing the news, and the headline got your attention. ‘Two-Year Anniversary of The Blip.’

“Um, excuse me?” You turned to a bystander. “Can you tell me what that’s about?” You gestured to the billboard, and the guy did a double take before scoffing.

“Yeah, good one.” He said as he stormed off. It was only then when it finally clicked. You didn’t know how, but this wasn’t the New York you knew. You weren’t where you were supposed to be.

So where the hell were you?

-----------------------------------------------------

One Month Later

Peter Parker had dealt with a lot in his life, he should know to expect the unexpected by now.

So when a night that started as normal Spider-Man patrol was interrupted by someone else in a Spider suit, he shouldn’t have been surprised. But alas, he still was.

“Hey there!” He was mid swing when he heard it. He turned to see someone, a woman, in a suit like his, only it was black with red accents. You shot out a web line, swinging alongside him, but it didn’t last for long as he lost his concentration in shock.

You watched as this world’s Spider-Man let out a yelp and fell thirty stories below before landing on the roof of a shorter building. You chuckled, knowing he was fine, before flipping off your own web line to join him.

“Gotta say you’re a lot more graceful on my world, Pete.” You chuckled. You expected a quip in response but there was only silence as he stared straight at you. “And less serious too.”

“You know who I am?”

“Yeah, of course I know who you are.” A month ago you would’ve been confused at his statement, but at this point you knew you were an outsider, so you began to explain. “Peter Parker is pretty much the whole reason I got this Spider-thing under control. You- or he, I guess, has been my mentor and friend for the past five years.” You didn’t get any response back again so you continued. “I’m starting to get the hint that I’m not a thing here.”

“Well...I’m sorry, it’s not just that it’s...” He trailed off with a sigh as he sat on the ledge of the building. You joined him after a few more moments, silently encouraging him to continue. “No one knows who I am...no one’s supposed to.” He said as he took off his mask. Your eyes widened at who was revealed.

He noticed your silence and turned to your, confusion and panic taking over as he saw your reaction. “What, what is it?”

“Sorry, it’s just...you’re a kid.” You said, letting out an breathless chuckle. Peter’s face morphed from confused to offended at what you said.

“I’m 18, that’s an adult.”

“Yeah, well to a 27 year old, that’s very much a kid.” You laughed. “Sorry, it’s just I’m used to my Peter being older. He’s married with a kid on the way and everything so-” You shook your head, stopping yourself. You were getting off track.

“Anyway, kid or not, you’re still Spider-Man. And right now I need Spider-Man’s help.”

-------------------------------------------------

After explaining your situation to him, Peter took you back to his small apartment to figure out your next steps.

After climbing through the window and shutting it behind you, you both hopped down and felt secure enough to take your masks off. Peter went to turn his light on but groaned when nothing happened.

“No, no, no! I paid in advance this month!” He muttered angrily as he flipped the switch repeatedly, hoping that would somehow turn it on.

You watched his struggle for a moment before surveying the apartment, finding a power outlet fairly quickly. “Here, I got it.” You crouched down, holding your fingertips to it. Peter watched as orange sparks flowed out of your fingers and into the outlet quickly. Before you could even say anything, his lights flickered back on.

“Whoa! I-whoa!” You stood and turned to peter, smiling at his reaction. ”How did you do that- I can’t do that!”

“Yeah, you can’t on my world either. Long story short, something must’ve been different about the spider that bit me, I can do this too.” Before Peter could even ask what, you vanished before his eyes. He looked around in confusion and astonishment.

“Boo!” He heard your voice behind him, causing him to jump in shock. You laughed again as you reappeared.

“That’s insane! Invisibility and electric powers!?”

“Camouflage and Bio-electricity technically, but yep!” You said with a proud smile. “Those were fun to navigate when I first discovered them.”

“I wish I could do that, that’s so cool! I got so many questions, but-”

“Later.” You finished his sentence, agreeing. First things first, you had to hear his plan on helping you before you could geek out with this world’s Peter.

“So I know why and how you got here, like I told you, but I’m not sure why you didn’t go back.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when I told Strange to reverse the spell, that should’ve sent everyone back to their own universes. Everyone who knew I was Spider-Man left this reality and the ones that knew that already lived here...forgot.”

You eyebrows rose at what he said. It clicked for you why he said no one should know who he was. He must’ve made some kind of sacrifice. “Oh...Peter, I’m sorry.”

“No, no don’t be. It had to be done.” Peter waved it off, and you knew better than to push. Peter continued his original thought. “But you were clearly left behind, and Strange doesn’t make mistakes...at least he’s not supposed to.” You both thought for a moment on your next move. You looked back up at each other, and you could tell you were thinking the same thing.

“You know where we can find him?”

-----------------------------------------------

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Look, Mr. Wong, we just need to talk to Strange so he can help her.”

“I should’ve known you were going to continue to be a pain in the ass somehow Spider-Man.”

You watched the back and forth between Peter, now masked, and this ‘Wong’ guy in silence. They went at it for a few more moments before you decided you had enough. “Uh, hi!” You interrupted, causing both guys to look at you. “I really don’t want to be a ‘pain in the ass’, I just want to go home.”

Wong looked to Spider-Man for a moment before looking back at you with a sigh. All of a sudden, he spun his arm around. Dark orange sparks circled in mid air, creating a small portal. Wong nodded his head towards it, indicating you two get in it. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

You looked into the portal, seeing what could only be described as ancient temple grounds on the other side, with people who were dressed exactly like this Wong guy going about their business. You turned to him, wishing he could see your raised eyebrow under your mask. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“Your only shot of going home. Strange is in Kamar Taj right now, and it’s a good thing he is because any resources you could use are also there.”

You turned to Peter. “I’m just supposed to believe this guy?”

“Yeah!” He answered immediately. “Wong and Strange are the best at this kind of thing.”

“Aren’t they the reason I’m here in the first place?”

Peter paused. “Well, I-”

“No, Strange is.” Wong interrupted. “I remember precisely saying to leave me out of it. And this” He gestured to you and the portal. “Is not leaving me out of it.” With that, he shook his head and took a step into the portal, turning back to you two after stepping through.

“But, of course, I’m in it. So let’s get this sorted out.”

-----------------------------------------------

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Oh, hey, two for two.”

Strange gave you a once over at your response to his comment. He let out a humorless chuckle before turning to Peter, who stood in silence beside you. “What did you do this time, Spider-Man?”

As someone who was used to working alongside your world’s Spider-Man, and as someone used to wearing the mask yourself, you knew how to read expressions without the help of facial features. The way Peter’s body stiffened slightly along with the dip of his head told you a million words without him having to say any.

The way Strange said ‘Spider-Man’ must’ve hit a nerve. You guessed this was one of the people that had to forget about Peter.

You wonder if they were close.

And you wonder how many others this Peter lost in this way.

But you didn’t wonder anything else for too much longer before deciding to step it. “Uh, sorry, Mr. Strange?”

“It’s Doctor.” The sorcerer said as he turned his attention to you.

“Right.” You muttered. “Doctor Strange, Spider-Man here didn’t do anything. I just kinda...showed up here? And he told me what happened and I should’ve just...popped back home by now” You began to lamely explain your situation, hands flying wildly around while doing so. “But obviously, I didn’t and...” You sighed, trying to collect yourself. “Look, I just wanna get back home. That’s it.”

Strange looked at you for a moment before nodding. “Okay.” He relented. “First things first, I need to know what Earth you’re from. You don’t happen to know do you?”

He watched you tilt your head as one of your masks lenses squinted slightly. “Uhhh”

“Yeah, that’s a no.” He quickly intervened. “I’ll figure it out, but it could take a bit. Could you...?” He raised his hand above his head, gesturing for you to take your mask off. You hesitated briefly before remembering that you had no reason to conceal your identity in this world, so you pulled it off. “Thank you.” He said as he reached over to you, and before you knew it, you felt a quick pinch on your head.

“Ow! Hey!”

“Sorry about that.” The sorcerer halfheartedly apologized as he started messing with the hair he plucked. “I need DNA to get a sense of origin, once I figure out where that is, then we can work on getting you back. For the time being though, make yourself comfortable....” He trailed off, silently asking your name.

“Oh, Y/n. Y/n L/n.”

Strange gave a curt nod at the introduction. “It’s a pleasure Ms. L/n. Anyway, like I said, this could take a bit, so” He turned his attention to the group of people behind you, nodding towards the direction of one in particular. “This is America Chavez. She’ll show you around. I’ll come get you both when I have some answers.” You turned towards where he nodded and saw a young girl, even younger than Peter walking towards you with a smile. You smiled politely and waved back.

“I, uh, should actually get back.” You heard Peter pipe up beside you. “I got...y’know friendly neighborhood stuff to do.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the reasoning. “Good to see some things aren’t different between universes.” You held your hand out, which he took. “Thanks for helping me out.” You smiled.

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded. “I’ll see you around?”

“Once they invent the multiversal phone plan, I’ll tell you all about how my powers work.” Peter laughed at your joke before turning to wave goodbye to Strange, who only gave him a curt nod.

His head hung slightly in disappointment again before Wong opened a portal back to the Sanctum. You gave him a sympathetic nod, silently telling him he’ll be okay. He nodded back before stepping through.

A moment of silence passed over the room after the portal closed. America looked around at the faces around her and figured she’d have to be the one to speak up.

“So, how about that tour?”

---------------------------------------------------

“Lost in the multiverse, huh?” The young girl next to you piped up as you walked through the, seemingly neverending, halls of Kamar Taj.

You nodded. “Looks like it.”

“Yeah, been there, done that.” America said as if it was nothing, which caused you to look to her in surprise.

“Really? How?”

“Well, I...” She trailed off, trying to think of what to say. “I- It’s complicated. Basically, I can travel the multiverse, that’s my power.”

“Whoa!” You exclaimed, genuinely impressed by this. After the initial reaction wore off though, you thought for a moment. Having a power like that sounds like a lot to handle, especially for a kid. “That...actually sounds like a lot.”

“Oh, it is.” You chuckled at how fast America agreed. “Not being able to control it is actually how I ended up lost in the multiverse.”

“Oh...” You said simply, not sure what else to say to that.

“Yeah, but it’s all good now.”

“So, how did you end up getting back home?”

America paused for a moment. “Well...I never did actually.”

You rose you brows at this. If this girl had the power to travel universes at will, why couldn’t she just go back home? Why couldn’t she just get you home for that matter? You figured there was a story there, but you didn’t know the girl well enough to pry into it. Luckily for you though, she continued before you could even utter a word. “But, I have a home here. Home is what you make it, y’know? Found family and all that.”

You gave her a small smile. “You've got to be the most optimistic 13 year old I’ve ever met.”

“Hey, I’m 14! Almost 15, thank you very much.” She exclaimed in mock offence, causing you to laugh and raise your hands in mock surrender.

“Right, sorry my bad.” You said jokingly as you two continued your walk. “Where to now, your majesty?”

“You’re hilarious.” She waved you off as she looked around, trying to figure out her next move. “I always get lost around here...” She hummed, looking at the different paths in front of her. “Let’s just go this way.” She pointed to the right and started walking, you shrugged and followed her.

“What’s down here?”

“Just more magical artifacts it looks like.”

“So like 95% of this place?”

“Exactly.” She chuckled. “I’ve only been down here a few times though, so I don’t- oh.” She cut herself off as she stopped suddenly. You stopped with her, confused at her actions.

“What’s up?” America didn’t answer you, instead just staring ahead with an indecipherable expression on her face. You looked in the same direction, brows raising at what you saw.

There against the wall was what you could only describe as a makeshift prison cell. There was a translucent yellow wall, which you assume is some kind of magic, and inside looked to be some a bed, a tv, some chairs and a bookshelf. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the way the woman inside looked, you would assume it was just a normal bedroom.

Said woman sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over slightly, staring at the floor, almost burning a hole in it. Her ankles and wrists were all individually cuffed in some kind of mystical braces that looked straight out of the year 1635. She was dressed similarly to the other sorcerers you’ve seen around Kamar Taj, but you got the feeling she wasn’t among them.

You figured she sense your presence as she sat up slightly and turned her head. America kept staring at her as the woman’s face shifted slightly. Her face went from being blank to...shyness almost? Guilt? You couldn’t tell. She raised an arm and gave the girl a small wave, one that was only reciprocated with a small nod. The woman’s eyes then moved towards you and you froze as your eyes locked.

The woman’s wave paused in midair, her eyes started to scan you. You were new here, dressed similarly to what she remembered Spider-Man to dress like, but she’s never met you before. Who were you? And more importantly, what were you doing here? Were you here for her? Were you a new Avenger that the government sent over to come collect her? Would make sense. The Avengers that she knew, the ones still alive or in this time anyway, were probably too ashamed and disgusted to even want to look at her.

You couldn’t even begin to form your own thoughts as you felt America’s hand wrap around your wrist, taking you away and leading you back towards the direction you came from. After walking for a minute, you spoke up. “Who was that?”

“That’s Wanda. Otherwise known as The Scarlet Witch.”

Your face snapped from awe to utter disbelief. “The who what?”

America chuckled at your reaction. “I’m guessing you don’t have her where you’re from.”

“Not that I know of, no.” As you continued walking, you glanced back towards where the woman- Wanda was being held. “Why is she down here in a cell?”

America let out a harsh breath at that. “Between attacking Kamar Taj and killing a bunch of sorcerers, trying to kill me to steal my power to travel the multiverse to be with her kids that never existed here, and dreamwalking to another reality and killing a bunch of their superheroes, take your pick.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. You definitely weren’t expecting all that. You glanced back again. “Oh. Uh... her?” The woman in that cell looked harmless, it was surprising to think she was capable of all that. But, you guess looks could be deceiving.

“Yeah. She’s dangerous.”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“But...it’s not as simple as ‘she’s an evil murderer’. She wasn’t entirely herself. Again, complicated.”

“Huh.” Was all you could think of to say. This place was weird you officially decided.

You shook your head as you continued forward. You only got a few more steps in before you felt that familiar tingle go off. Your Spider Sense.

You put stopped and put an arm in front of America, causing her to stop as well. Before she could ask what was going on, a figure suddenly appeared in front of you.

America faltered slightly, but just sighed in annoyance. This apparently wasn’t the first time Strange did something like this to here. After it moment, it clicked for her that you must’ve sensed that coming. “Whoa, how did you-”

You cut her off with a simple smirk and point to the head, giving no further explanation. You turned to the sorcerer in front of you, who looked a lot different than what you remembered him to be. Before he seemed cocky and arrogant, but now he seemed almost worried. Dare you say sad.

“Everything okay?” You asked. He turned to you and simply stared for a moment before taking a breath, preparing himself.

You already knew this couldn’t be good.

“Y/n...” He started, trying to collect himself. “I’m sorry, but there’s no easy way to say this.”

Now you’ve dealt with a lot in your life, between the death of your father to radioactive spider bites, to evil relatives and friends that tried to kill you, you thought that at this point you could handle anything. Boy were you wrong.

“Your home, Earth 1610, was caught in an incursion. Which, to put it simply...it was destroyed. It no longer exists.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you

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trickster-tabby · 1 year

Text

Thank You

David has legally adopted Max! The two of them stop for a bite on their way home, which leads to a pretty serious conversation.

Warnings: talk of past suicide attempt

m*xvid shippers don't even look at this I will skin you <3

Max is trans in my au, he's referred to with he/him and xe/xem. Xe's also 17 years old here, for reference

David and Max laughed together. They were sitting on the hood of David's car in the mostly empty, moonlit parking lot of a Subway.

"So... How's it feel to now legally be Maxwell Lee?"

Max laughed around a mouthful of his sandwich. "Feels pretty damn good to get my deadname off that paper."

David looked at xem happily. "Yeah, I bet it does. Congratulations... Son."

"Oh, shut up."

David laughed as Max tried to hide his smile.

Max coughed out a laugh, before looking at David. "Um... Thank you, I guess."

David nodded.

"No, really, David. Thank you. If I hadn't found your house, if you hadn't taken me in that night... I'd have probably been dead in an alley somewhere." Max took a bite of xer sandwich. "If my ex-mom didn't hunt me down and kill me herself."

David looked over at Max, his smile falling a bit. "You're welcome, Max."

After a beat of awkward silence, Max spoke up again.

"Why'd you sound sad when you said that?"

"Oh, did I?" David quickly took a bite of his own sandwich, clearly avoiding the subject.

"...David, are you... Okay?" Max put his sandwich down on the wrapper, scooting a little closer to David.

David cleared his throat. "Max... I have a confession to make."

Max fell silent, listening intently. David put his own sandwich down.

"I need to thank you too... For something a bit similar."

"What?"

David sighed, composing himself. "You saved my life, too."

Max felt xer eyes widen. "I... I did?"

"Max... That night, when you showed up on my doorstep?" He took a deep breath. "If you hadn't shown up, I... I would have shot myself."

Max was shocked. Not by the fact that David was going to do that, but by the fact that he was admitting it.

David started to tear up "I... I had been planning it for a while, but I never... Had the courage to do it. But that night, I was determined. I was really going to do it."

"But... I stopped you?"

David nodded, silently cursing the tears escaping his eyes. "Yeah, you... Max, I had the gun in my hand when you rang my doorbell. I was about to pull the damn trigger!" he sobbed.

Max leaned his head onto David's shoulder, hoping to comfort him.

"You saved me, Max. You didn't even know it, but you saved me. And..." David wrapped his arm around Max, suddenly smiling again. "I'm so glad you did."

Max looked up and smiled at him.

"And I'm glad because..." He shook Max a little. "While I may not technically be a father, I have the best son I could ever ask for.

Max snuggled against David. "Well, you're welcome... Dad."

David smiled, leaning his head down against his son's.

"Now let's finish these sandwiches so we can go home and get these fucking suits off."

"Heh. Okay, Max."

#stel's camp camp au #david camp camp #max camp camp #dadvid #camp camp

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thekoopalingsandstuffs · 1 year

Note

Koopalings, how did your parents die?

Ludwig: *Clearly upsetted by the question* "That's a bit insensitive to just ask someone, don'cha think?"

Roy: "Luds........"

Ludwig: "I'm sorry..."

Iggy: "Well, our mom died due to... uh... "birth complications" with Lemmy."

Roy: "Yeah. Lems was born at home, and not in a hospital, so... we couldn't really get help."

Ludwig: "And our father died just a few months before Lemmy was born, so he couldn't help us either..."

Roy: "We... actually don't know how Dad died... all I remember is that it was the middle of Summer, and we hadn't seen him for a while... then one of us opened the door to the yard. There he was... lying face-down in the grass. Cold. Dead."

Wendy: ".............................."

Iggy: "Yeah... it's kinda scary thinking about it... he didn't have any injuries or blood or anything. He was just there... dead."

Wendy: "Um. Can I borrow this for a second?" *Grabs the camera* "I gotta... go record a makeup tutorial..."

Ludwig: "Go ahead."

Wendy: *Takes the camera to her bedroom, locks the door, then sets it down* *Sighs* "Don't tell ANYONE I'm telling y'all this, okay?" *Deep breath*

"Dad's death was... kinda... no, not kinda... COMPLETELY my fault... Where do I begin..."

"It was just a couple months before Lemmy's birth... August. I don't remember the date, but that was the month. It was just me and Daddy... we were playing outside. What game were we playing? I don't remember... but we were having fun. That's the important part..."

"Well, Daddy suddenly stopped playing... he dropped to his knees. I... I can't remember exactly what had happened to him; if it was a stroke, heart attack, allergic reaction, or something else. But his face--oh God, his face..."

"Contorted in fear and panic. His coughing and choking, the way his eyes looked at me in desperation to do something. And... I did nothing."

"I WAS SIX!! AND SCARED!! I... I didn't even know what I COULD do!! All I knew was that I was scared, and didn't want to see it. So, I... went inside. Left his suffering, helpless body there alone."

"I'm sure he probably thought I was going to get help. But I didn't. I ran away, and... probably got distracted by the TV or a game immediately. Children have very poor object permanence... I forgot about him instantly. He... my own father was left there to suffer and die. Alone."

"I COULD HAVE SAVED HIM!! If I hadn't ran away and gotten distracted like a fucking idiot, I could have told my mom. She could have gotten him to the hospital, and he would still be alive! But no. I was a stupid, selfish child..."

"And if Daddy were still alive, maybe he could have saved Mama during the complications in Lemmy's birth! They BOTH could have survived if I hadn't done that...."

"So...... yeah. Dad died because of me. There. Happy now, Anon? I... I could never let anyone, and especially not Iggy know. Iggy can be annoying sometimes, but I still care about him. He was Daddy's favorite, ya know... If he found out that Daddy died because of me... well... he would be devastated for sure. But what he would DO to me?... I don't want to know."

"This is a secret I wanna take to my grave. So if I find out that ANY of you told ANYONE ELSE... well... let's just say I hope you like the feeling of burning alive."

Lemmy: *Knocks on Wendy's door* "Hey, do you have the camera? There's way more asks we gotta deal with--Can I have it?"

Wendy: "Sure." *Gives Lemmy the camera* *Gives a threatening glare into the lense before it gets taken away*

Lemmy: *Turns the camera off*

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antigonewinchester · 8 months

Note

use a photo on your phone camera roll and write a quick hc/fic you're NEVER explored before

thank you for this prompt, anon!! (finally had time to write this weekend! also to find a picture on my phone that wasn't personal/work related, ha.)

Light, dark. House, then woods. A sheriff’s station. "What’s your name, honey?" "Jack." "Okay. And that must be short for Jacqueline." "No." It’s called a break-room. When she touches the vending machine, out falls candy. She likes nougat; Clark likes double fudge; they both like fruit funzies. "So, did your mom really want a boy or something?" "I... don't know." Clark gets wheeled out on a stretcher, coughing blood, his mother at his side. Her mother is dead. Her father was supposed to keep her safe, but he's dead too. She helps Sam and Dean pile up wood and watches the bodies burn, like Dagon had burned, but Dagon had been bad and Kelly and Castiel were good. She pretends to sleep in the car. "She's just a girl, Dean." "Doesn't matter that the devil's spawn is a chick. It's 2017. Evil's gender neutral." She's eating a burger. "If God's like my grandfather, then who was my grandmother?" "Um—well, God never had a partner, but he did have a sister. Her name was Amara." "Yeah, except Amara wasn't big on the whole creation thing. More about destruction." When God created the world, he made two humans. Adam, then Eve. A demon almost tricks her into opening a portal to Hell, until Sam and Dean and the real prophet arrive. Back in the bunker, Sam keeps staring at her. "Jack, I just—wanted to see how you were doing. If you needed anything." "I don't know. But thank you." She's in a room. Her room. It has a bed sink mirror brick-wall chair desk paper pencil knife, in the third drawer on the right side. It doesn't hurt when she stabs herself. Once, twice, five, twelve— “You know, Sam thinks you can be saved.” “You don’t believe that.” “No.” That night she dreams of a burning woman, standing silent as the yellow flames reach high enough to touch the moon and somewhere someone else is wailing, pure animal, but when her hand reaches Jack's cheek she says

You Will Be What You Will Be

#asks #jack #fic #religionatural #what is fanfic for if not short-form experimental prose #queue

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inertflouride · 2 years

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Turmoils Of You- Part 12

Sighs

"Ugh I'm so done with this shit. I'm gonna go crash. You do whatever you want man, just don't wake me up with a dagger over my neck. Trust me, I wake up a murderer myself so... yeah. Bye. Enjoy your night", my half dead ass announces and slams the bedroom door shut. I quickly bolt my door and throw myself over the bed before hiding myself in the quilts and closing the world off.

But, it doesn't right? The world, you can't close it. That's the way it's designed. Whenever you are on the top of the world, you'd wish to live every fucking second of it. But when you hit a rock bottom, woosh. Suicidal or um, drugs or whatever.

Drugs or whatever.

I can't deal with myself right now. Either I overthink about Jake or I get high. No in between. So, with this thought in my head, I move out of my room, popping only my head to see if Phil's there or not. Nope. No sign of the bartender.

I open my door slightly more and tiptoe and way to the front door, my shoes in my hand. Just as I open the door, a hand lands on my shoulder and I cringe.

"Knock knock", Phil says deadpan, no anger no disappointment, more like he anticipated me here long back. Slowly I turn back to him, my nose scrunched up. "Won't you say who?"

"Huh?"

"You know like, 'knock knock, whose this, the drug addiction..."

I look at him with the dumbest face humanly possible, not able to understand anything he said but still deciding to go with the flow. "Okay who?"

"No one! Because I'll kill the drug addiction you have. Come on, let's have coffee. Sit", he says, pulling me with my hand towards the kitchen stool and jerking my hand towards the seat. I let out a semi pissed sigh and sulk around the chair. I don't want to sit with him, he's very unlikeable and a flirt. I'm in no mood for that.

"I want to freshen up", I start. No reply. "I need to get my clothes." No reply yet again. "My bag is still in the SUV." Silence persists as he starts beating coffee in a cup. "I'm going to go get it." I finish this time and head for the door when he holds onto my wrist to stop me.

"Don't you dare go out. Take one of the tees from my bag for the time being. I'll get you your bag in a few minutes", he flatly states without lifting his eyes from the cup. If I wasn't so desperate to get rid of these clothes, I would have, and I mark, never worn his tee. But it is what it is, my shirt stinks of sweat so fuck it. I see his bag lying on the sofa, real mature Phil, and zip it open. Too many clothes. Where the fuck does he get the money to buy so many clothes?

"Woah. You own a freaking Armani tee? Who did you steal it from?", I quip at him as I continue as expedition.

"Oh that one? That's Angie's ex's. When they were... deep in each other, I picked it off the ground. It was fun when he had to run half naked when my mom caught onto their fun."

"Oh god. For real?", I stifle a laugh but fail and end up laughing way too hard that I have to wipe a stray tear from my eye. I notice him looking at me with his head slightly tilted to the side. Instantly, I let out a little cough and stop laughing. I take a plain black tee from his bag and hide myself in my bedroom.

Since it's only my tee that stinks, I keep my capris on while getting the stink machine off by back. Phil's tee still has a very distinct and strong cologne on, just like the way he normally smells. I put his tee on and notice how it reaches my upper thighs. God, what point wearing capris when they're gonna get hidden by his tee. Without further ado, I take my capris off to and sit on my bed. What? You thought I'll go in there with an oversized tee and panties? Pfft.

I plug my cell phone off from the lamp table and start scrolling with the messages. 200+ Damn. Despite that, my eyes just yearn for his message. Just... one message, please. I know he's offline but still, I can't help opening his chat and keep staring at his "I love you".

"MC!", I hear Phil say. What the fuck is that about? I jerk out of my bed in half a nanosecond and start scrambling towards my capris. Halfway pulling my capris up, the door slams open. Normally, this would be the part where I'd shriek but when I see the person in front of me, I freeze in my spot.

He's back.

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake x player #duskwood mc #jake x mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood turmoils of you

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blueikeproductions · 1 year

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A battered and tired Dan and JD stand in front of Dan’s house after the boiler room incident, JD carrying a duffle bag with his stuff.

Dan: You ready?

JD: -looks nervous but takes a deep breath- Y-yeah.

Dan: -unlocks the door and they walk in- Ma? I’m home!

Dan’s mom upstairs, Liam can be heard making baby noises: Daniel? You’re home already? What about the pep rally?

Dan: Um. -rubs his bandaged arm and JD just looks mortified and embarrassed- Let’s just say it got too intense and leave it at that. Can you come down for a minute? Uh, Jason’s here too!

JD: Uh greetings and salutations, Mizz Danny-boy’s ma!

Dan’s mom still upstairs, but they hear excited thumping as she runs down stairs: THE infamous JASON? I finally get to meet this dark horse of a pal of your-

Dan’s mom, a portly almost middle aged gal with a tattooed arm, her messy grey-brown hair tied up in a haphazard bun, cocooned in a AC/DC bandana stops in front of the boys, stunned upon seeing JD- Oh my god, Jocelyn…?! -she grabs JD’s face and gives him a look over-

JD: -muffled- Ack, that was my mom’s name…!

Dan’s mom: -tearing up- You’re the spitting image… Oh my god…!

JD: -thinks back to his angry dad, still muffled- So I’ve heard…

Dan: Wait, you… you KNEW Jason’s mom?

Dan’s mom: Of course I did, Daniel! You never told me your bestie was MY old bestie’s boy! -releases JD- Oh Jocelyn and I were inseparable in middle school and high school, she was a delicate, sweet thing but … well she had her demons like we all do, but we completed each other like PB&J! And then she met that rotten banana Bud Dean Senior Year. Ugh, what an asshole.

Dan and JD look at each other awkwardly.

Dan’s mom: I dunno what she saw in that grease ball, but after graduation I never heard from her again. Bud inherited his father’s construction business and took Jocelyn away to Ridgemont, California. Anyhoo, look at me ramble, how IS your mom, Jason?

JD: She’s … uh dead. Died when I was eight.

Dan’s mom: …What…? Oh no. Honey I’m so sorry. -sighs- Dammit Jocelyn I knew this would happen, you poor angel. I guess that means you’ve been stuck with Dud Bud during your formative years…

JD: Not anymore. Big Bud landed with a big thud earlier today. …So I heard.

Dan’s mom can’t help but get a perverse glee out of this, but tries and fails to keep it contained: Hohoho, so THAT’S what all that hullabaloo on the news was about earlier. I was busy with Liam and wasn’t paying attention. -clears throat- Still, I’m -dark snickers- so sorry for your loss, Jason. -snrks, but clears throat again-

JD: Yeah no, no need to be …polite, I get it. Dad was a shit slurping bastard. Er pardon my French…! But uh that’s kinda what Danny-boy and me wanted to talk about… -gently sets his duffle bag down, Fangry’s beast mode head pokes out of the bag slightly. -

Dan: Yeah, JD and his Pop were squatting in the apartment complex down town, but since Pop … popped, the landlord kicked JD out and his dad’s stuff was repo’d.

JD: Yeah I’m pretty much wearing all that I own at the moment, and with all the rough patches and moving around growing up I don’t really have a place t’go… -shuffles his feet awkwardly, blushing, looks embarrassed but hopeful- I … I was hoping I could stay here for a while? At least until I get my shit together… Danny-boy offered and…

Dan’s mom gives the suddenly sheepish Dan a look: Oh he did, did he? -smiles and hugs them both tightly- Of course you can stay! It’ll be a little cramped, you’ll have to room with Daniel and Liam since that’s the only other available room. And before you ask, forget the couch: we’re in the middle of trying to get a new one, y’see, but Roland refuses to throw that dreadful moth ridden monstrosity out. -points to the living couch which cartoonishly coughs and collapses to one side, a spring pops out of it for effect-

JD: -looking at the couch- Yikes… -shakes head- I mean, NICE! T-thank you. -looks more relaxed and happy-

Dan’s mom: -smiles still hugging them both- It’ll be nice to catch up with Jocelyn too, indirectly… but I’m sure you have stories. -pauses, sniffs them both, releases the hug and recoils slightly- Yeesh, I dunno what went on at that pep rally, but you two reek of sweat and wood smoke.

Dan: Aw Ma we can’t be THAT ba- -sniffs his arm- Holy cats, is this what was meant by smelling gangsta?

Dan’s mom: -pushes them towards the stairs- You boys go upstairs and wash up, and neither of you come back down until you smell better! I’ll get supper in the meantime and tell Roland what’s happening. You boys in the mood for KFC?

Dan: Sure…? JD: It’s finger licking good…?

Dan’s mom: I think you’ll fit in just fine here, Jason. -gets her keys and heads out the door-

JD: Fit in, she says. Me? -smiles- Who’d a’thunk it.

Dan: Better late than never, right? Welcome home, bro. -one arm hugs him and they go upstairs-

#heathers fanfic #heathers oc #heathers au #jason dean #heathers the musical #heathers headcanons #heathers 1989 #heathers movie #jd heathers #jd headcanons #blueike productions #blueike

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copiouscouples · 2 years

Text

Two Roads Diverged

Read on AO3 here.

Elizabeth “Libby” Cunningham read through the menu at Enzo’s, debating what to get. Across from her, her sister Chrissy was doing the same. They resembled each other enough that it was believable that they were sisters. Both were pretty, short in stature, and had a reddish hue to their hair. Chrissy’s was more blonde while Libby’s was more auburn. But that’s where the resemblances ended. Libby was curvier and about twenty pounds heavier than her thinner and toned sister. Libby had green eyes to Chrissy’s baby blues. Chrissy, always quick to smile, had an openness and sweetness about her that drew people in while Libby was more reserved. It took her longer to warm up to people and while she had a good sense of humor - she tended to be more sarcastic than the average bear.

“I’ll have the chicken piccata with a side caesar salad,” Libby said as she handed her menu to the server.

“Do you want it with angel hair pasta or our vegetable medley?”

“I’d like it with the pasta.”

“And for you?"

“I’ll have the vegan caesar salad,” Chrissy ordered.

“Full or half order?”

Full, order the full, Libby silently willed her sister.

“The half, please,” Chrissy said with a warm smile as she handed her menu over as well. “And if it’s not too much trouble, could I get a few wedges of lemon for my water?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you!”

“So, how are things?” Libby asked.

Chrissy nervously pressed her lips together and started twirling a strand of her strawberry blond hair.

“Um, well, I have some news…Jason and I have decided to split up. I filed for divorce this morning.”

Libby nearly choked on her iced tea, coughing. She thought her sister was going to tell her she was pregnant. The divorce news was totally out of left field. Jason wasn’t her favorite person, but him and Chrissy seemed happy enough. But she must not have been paying enough attention if it had gotten to this point.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Chrissy shrugged. “It wasn’t one thing. He didn’t cheat on me or anything like that. He’s always been good to me. I just feel like we were together because it was convenient. Like we were expected to be together. I was a cheerleader. He was a basketball player. So naturally we seemed like we’d be a good match. But we weren’t. We’re not really into the same things or want the same things out of life. The only thing we really agreed on is that we both wanted a baby and since that doesn’t look like it’s going to happen for me because I’m broken…” Chrissy wiped away a tear and shrugged again. “I thought it was time to end things. Let him have a chance to have a baby with someone else.”

“You are not broken. Did he say that to you?” Libby asked heatedly, half ready to leave and fight an adult male.

Chrissy reached out and grabbed Libby’s hand, soothing her. “No, he would never say that. In fact, he was saying we should try surrogacy or adoption. That’s when I realized I didn’t want to go through all of this work to have a child with a man I don’t even think I’m in love with. He deserves better than that and I do too.”

Libby kept quiet as the server placed their food on the table. Twirling the angel hair pasta around her fork, she stuck a large bite of carbs in her mouth - hoping it would calm her.

“Mmm, these are good croutons,” Chrissy said, chewing happily on her own food.

“Yeah,” Libby nodded.

“Remember that one time Mom told you to pick off the croutons from your salad and instead of moving them off your plate you looked her dead in the eye and shoved them all in your mouth. She was fuming, but that was so badass, sis.”

Libby finished chewing her bite of pasta, thinking how sad it was that she was considered a “badass” for eating 5 croutons as a 14 year old. But that was just a testament to how screwed up her and Chrissy’s childhood had been.

“Does Jason know you’re filing for divorce?” Libby asked, bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand.

Her sister nodded. “He’s not very happy about it, but he agreed to it. He said he didn’t want to force me to stay in a marriage I didn’t want.”

“Where are you going to live? Do you need a place to stay? Don’t go back home,” she cautioned. Chrissy was on a good path. The last thing her sister needed was to be around their mother on a daily basis again.

“I’m going to stay in the house. Jason’s planning on getting an apartment.”

Libby breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good. Well, what’s next for you? What are your plans?”

Chrissy spent the next half hour excitedly describing her plans to get a job as a yoga instructor. She’d never worked before because Jason hadn’t wanted her to so her days had been spent volunteering and going to yoga classes because they’d had a housekeeper to cook and clean for them. She’d started the training process to become an instructor a couple of years ago and had recently completed her 200 hours of classes. Libby smiled at her sister’s excitement. She couldn’t recall another time when she’d been this excited. Divorce was never fun but at least it seemed to be the right choice for her sister.

Libby internally groaned as Chrissy grabbed the check before her. “Chrissy…you don’t have to…I’m the big sister. I should pay.”

Her sister ignored her protest as she handed the check and her credit card to the server. “Umm, actually. I’m an inch taller than you so technically I’m the bigger sister.”

“Oh my word, stop.”

“Please let me treat you,” Chrissy insisted.

“Fine,” Libby replied begrudgingly. “I better head out. I have surgery in an hour, but I want you to come over for dinner this week.”

They hugged and Libby headed to the hospital.

Libby yawned as she opened the door connecting the garage to the main house. The surgery had lasted a couple of hours longer than she’d planned.

As always, she tried to slip in as quietly as possible. Her favorite part of the day was quietly observing her children without them noticing. At the dinner table, two seemingly identical brown-haired, curly-headed boys were in different states of doing homework. One, David, the likely culprit, was diligently answering questions while the other was idly doodling as he listened to the story his father was reading on the couch to his younger sister.

"Far over the misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away ere break of day

To seek the pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,

While hammers fell like ringing bells."

The man just had to do everything so dramatically. He couldn’t just read a story aloud like a normal person. No, he had to make it a theatrical event. His excitement definitely influenced the kids. Even Monty, who wasn’t the biggest fan of school, at least enjoyed reading and that was in large part due to his father making it so fun.

She waited until Eddie had finished his rendition of the song from The Hobbit before entering the house.

“Hello, everyone,” she said.

“Mommy!” Her youngest shouted, scrambling off the couch and barreling towards her. Scooping up her daughter, she hugged her tight and kissed her forehead.

“How was your day?”

“Good! Daddy and I had lots of fun. We went to the park and worked at the store and had pizza for dinner.”

“Sounds like a good day. Any pizza left?”

“There’s some on the stove,” Eddie answered, standing up from the couch, stretching. “How’d your surgery go?”

“There were some complications but my patient made it through. That’s why I missed dinner. Sorry about that.”

Eddie shrugged. “You were saving someone’s life. The kids get it. They know you always get here as soon as you can.”

Libby turned away from Eddie so he couldn’t see the tears that pricked her eyes. As much as she loved being a doctor, being a surgical resident was hard. The hours were so not conducive to being a mother of three. It had been a childhood dream of hers to be a doctor. What she hadn’t planned on was a teen pregnancy and how much she’d love being a mom. She felt like she was being split in two sometimes with her brain wanting her to pursue her career goals and her heart wanting to stay at home and hug her children while they were still young. Although at ten, the boys had already started to move past that. She was lucky if she got one hug a month these days.

Thank goodness for Eddie and their arrangement. Even though they weren’t in a relationship, they’d always lived together for the children’s sake. They got along well enough. Why not make things easier for the kids and all live in one place? He had his own room above the garage and he did the lion’s share of taking care of the kids. He also owned a game/comic book store, but being the owner made it easy for him to be flexible. She was so grateful for him. It brought her a special kind of peace knowing that her kids would always have a parent available. She could do her job and know that her kids were well taken care of.

And he was a good dad. A fun one, too. She wished she could be more fun, but instead she was the one who made sure all the bills were paid, that lunches were packed, that homework was completed, and the laundry and dishes were done. And while it was her least favorite part of being a parent, she was also the disciplinarian. Teachers learned early on that calling Eddie to deal with behavior issues was moot. She was the parent to call to get poor behavior nipped in the bud. None of the teachers ever called about David, but Monty…that child was going to be the death of her. And Missy was mostly good, but she’d occasionally have a temper. Eddie would just laugh if it off, saying they were just kids and school wasn’t that big of a deal. That was the wrong thing to say to someone who’d spent almost two decades in school. Other than their difference in opinions on how they should discipline their kids, she and Eddie got along surprisingly well.

Of course, that was helped by the fact that she was in love with him. It was hard to believe she was in love with someone who was a self-proclaimed “metal head.” The long hair, tattoos, and ripped jeans weren’t really her aesthetic yet they totally were when it came to Eddie. Anybody else would have gotten a hard pass from her, but the look totally worked for Eddie. It made sense with his personality.

And they couldn’t be any more opposite. She wouldn’t call herself controlling but she liked everything a certain way. He was carefree. She was measured with her words and he would always let you know what he thought. He was all about his band and DnD while all her interests centered around the medical profession. The one thing they had in common was their love for their children.

It was easy to ignore flaws and minor annoyances when you were crazy about someone. But he didn’t feel the same way about her, so other than the occasional friends with benefits moments they had every few weeks or so, they were largely just two friendly co-parents.

Still holding Missy in her arms, she walked over to the dining room table. “How’d your day go?” She asked as she quickly glanced over David’s homework.

“Good.” They replied in unison.

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing,” also in unison.

“Good talk, boys,” Libby said, rolling her eyes slightly. “Monty, let me see your homework.”

“Ugh, Dad already looked over it.”

Libby tilted her head unbelievingly and motioned with her hand for him to hand it over.

She sat down, taking a pencil in hand, and erased all the incorrect answers.

“Mom, can I play on the Xbox?” David asked.

“Yes.”

A frown appeared over Monty’s face as he sulked in his chair. “That’s no fair! Why does he get to play and I don’t?”

“Because all of his homework is done and he took the time to do it correctly.”

“Can’t I just copy his answers?”

Libby took a deep breath and willed her face to remain in a poker-esque state. This poor child. “It’s not the same worksheet. You’re working on fractions and his is multiplication word problems. Besides, even if it was the same page, cheating is wrong.”

“Is it that bad, though?” Eddie chimed in, returning from the kitchen with a beer in one hand and a pizza slice in the other.

“Yes, it is. Your teacher doesn’t want to know what your brother knows. She wants to know what you know.”

“You could just do the paper for him,” Eddie whispered in her ear as he passed by. “It’d take you like 5 minutes. Show Mrs. Watson how good you are at fractions.”

She spun towards him, prepared to rant when he grinned and threw his head back and laughed. He loved getting her goat.

“Listen to your mom and finish up your work. Then, you can play video games with your brother.”

“This won’t take that long if you let me help you.”

“Fine…” Monty grumbled.

“I love the kid, but Monty wears me out. If he’d stop fighting and just do his work, it would be so much easier,” Libby said as she grabbed her own beer out of the fridge and sat on a stool by the kitchen island.

Eddie picked off the little pieces of sausage and onions that stuck to the bottom of the pizza box. “You could probably cut the kid a little break.”

Libby bit the inside of her cheek to stem the biting quip already forming on her lips. It irritated her to no end that he didn’t take learning as seriously as she did. Instead, she replied, “I get school’s not his thing but he’s only ten. We don’t know where he’ll be five years from now and I don’t want him to be so far behind he can’t catch up. I want him to have options. If he doesn’t want to go to college, that’s fine, but I don’t want it to be that he can’t go to college because he doesn’t know how to read or do math.”

Eddie looked doubtfully at her and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else.

“I had lunch with Chrissy today. What did you do?”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie laughed mirthlessly and shook his head. “Yeah, let’s just change the subject. Avoidance is always the most healthy option. Missy didn’t have school today so she went to work with me, then we picked up the boys, went to the park for a bit, and came home and had pizza. How’d your lunch go with Chrissy?”

Choosing to ignore his jab, Libby replied, “It went OK. Apparently, Chrissy and Jason are getting a divorce.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, she hasn’t been happy for a while. She told me that she was planning on filing today. Did she seem OK?”

“She seems OK. She’s excited about looking for a job and working as a yoga instructor. Wait…she already told you about the divorce?”

“You know how she always watches the kids when I DM on Thursdays. She’s been talking about it for a couple of months. I think it’s a good thing. Never liked that Jason guy much.”

Libby quietly hated herself for the jealousy that suddenly surged through her. It was something that had plagued her since she was 17. She’d always known that Eddie carried a torch for Chrissy. And it was no surprise. Chrissy was a sweetheart, a ray of sunshine. No one ever had anything bad to say about her. She was sweetness personified. While Libby…she was the scary, overprotective sister that nobody messed with.

She wasn’t sure why Eddie had slept with her in high school when he’d had such a big crush on her sister. Knowing he’d had feelings for her sister had been what had kept her from saying yes when he’d asked her to marry him when they’d found out she was pregnant with the twins. She didn’t want to be anyone’s second choice.

She inwardly groaned at her own hypocrisy. For someone who didn’t want to be any man’s second choice, she sure let him hit it often enough. She needed to get herself some more self-respect.

But now that Chrissy was free, would Eddie follow his heart and pursue her?

Excerpt from Tolkien’s The Hobbit.

#eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #original character #chrissy's sister

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