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burning-omen · 2 months

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OKAY. LET ME COOK. Can I request abo with Omega Wolverine (💀) and he is going into heat. And he needs his alpha to come take care of him and leads to wolverine and reader taking care of him to make sure his omega is okay.am fucking dying 💀 -😉

Logan Howlett x Male Reader

Word count: 5,841

Warnings: Smut, A/B/O/ Omegaverse, !!Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers!!, mentions of Wade and Logan figting (Logan repetedly breaking Wade's jaw, Logan has a knife in his shoulder, Ect..), Bottom! Logan, Omega! Logan, Top!Male!Reader, Alpha!Male!Reader, Marking, scenting, regular A/B/O stuff, Breeding, heat inducing wet dreams, breaking and entering.

(A/N: First fic back Hooray! I haven't written for Wolvie in years so bear with me)

Finding a man passed out drunk in your living room wasn’t something you planned for. You were actually planning to use your day off to catch up on some sleep, but this man- you recognized him as your neighbor, Logan, after taking a closer look- was really preventing that from happening. Your unexpected guest had taken over your couch and smelled very heavily of alcohol, you pushed him onto the floor so the smell wouldn't soak into your couch. You knew Logan was tough, and that he slept like a fucking 300 pound brick according to Wade, pushing him off the couch felt like you were trying to push a car with a dead battery but you were able to move the man onto the floor in an unceremonious heap after a couple of minutes of trying. A heavy thud followed his fall, but he didn’t so much as grunt when he hit the floor, and for a moment you wondered if he was actually dead, but the slight twitch in his hand told you he was fine, probably.

You weren’t going to let this ruin your day off, taking another look at the man, you did feel a little bad leaving him on the floor, not enough to put him back on your couch- no you paid way to much for it to do that- but bad enough for you to grab a spare pillow and blanket for the man. It felt a little weird, tucking in your intruder rather than calling the police on him, but you knew Logan well enough to know that he almost definitely meant to break into his own apartment and got a little mixed up. Being drunk will do that.

Moving away from him and into the kitchen, you decided to make breakfast, as your plans of sleeping had been completely ruined at- you looked at the clock on your stove- 6:37 in the morning. You just wanted to get some water before you went back to sleep, but no, now your making breakfast because even though you knew that Logan was relatively friendly- in his own way- waking up to him in your living room was fucking nerve wrecking and you falling back asleep wasn’t likely.

Opening your refrigerator, you took out a couple of eggs, then remembered that Logan was an absolutely massive man and promptly took out a couple more. You figured that eggs and bacon was an ok impromptu breakfast. Pans clinging together as you try to find the right one in the cabinet, trying to light your shitty gas stove without starting a fire, finally beginning to cook the bacon in the pan.

When Logan walked in a couple minutes later, seemingly still asleep as he nearly reached into the pan to grab the bacon that wasn’t even done cooking yet, you grabbed his wrist, nearly dropping your spatula as you yanked the man's hand away from the pan.

“Dammit, be careful!”

Your voice seemingly woke him up, eyes opening wide as he stared at you, then his face morphed into one of confusion as he looked around, realizing that he definitely wasn’t in his own apartment.

“Good morning, could you please get out of my kitchen, you smell like beer.”

He blinked, “How the hell did I get here?”

Releasing his wrist and turning back to the stove, flipping the bacon as you said, “You broke in.”

You heard him groan, probably in embarrassment or annoyance, you’d be pretty embarrassed if you broke into your super nice neighbor’s apartment too.

“Fuck..” He muttered under his breath.

“It’s fine, Logan, just let me finish cooking- and don’t sit on my couch!”

He left the kitchen almost immediately, but slowly. You figured he was hungover- you weren’t sure if that could happen with a healing factor like his but with the way he held his head in his hand, you figured something had to be happening.

Wade had pretty much filled you in on his little multidimensional adventure. He also had a tendency to break into your apartment, (which is probably why you had a relatively calm reaction to Logan) he basically just declared that you were friends one day, it was pretty unceremonious actually. He told you everything, usually things you didn’t want to know, but you didn’t mind his company.

A couple more minutes passed and you finished cooking, making plates and grabbing forks before leaving the kitchen to find Logan. It took you a second, but you found him back in the living room, sitting on the floor, in front of the TV, cover draped over his shoulders. You sat down next to him, silently handing him a plate- he looked a little surprised, but took it with a quick, “Thanks.”

You ate quietly, you could tell Logan appreciated his sizable plate. When he was finished he sat it on the ground next to him. Hesitating for a moment before speaking,

“Sorry about breaking in,”

You hummed, “It’s fine, really, you’re not the first person to break in.”

He grunted, “I know Wade comes over sometimes.”

“Yeah, he’s bought me at least five new doorknobs in the past year, he acts like knocking will kill him.”

The irony made Logan snort, “Yeah, I wish.”

You sat your now empty plate on top of his.

“No you don't, you think Al will let you stay with her if he dies?”

“I’ll get my own place”

“Uh Huh,” you hummed, “With what money?”

That made him laugh, even if it was a small one.

A moment passed and neither of you spoke, the house grew quiet and the space between the two of you became awkward.

Another moment passed and he pushed himself up off the floor, “I better get going.”

You followed behind him, to the front door where your door was left slightly open and what remains of the handle laid on the floor. You both paused at the sight, Logan glanced over at you, a bit of worry on his face.

You let out a sigh, “I'll get Wade to pay for it.”

The soft, humorous smile on your face made Logan relax as you kicked the sliced metal that used to be your doorknob to the side.

“Thank you- for breakfast..and not calling the police.”

You laughed before saying, “Anytime, really. Just..call next time.”

He smiled as he left, deciding, deep in his subconscious, that he liked you.

~~~~~~~

You didn’t see him for another month after that, you’ve caught glances of him in passing, but nothing quite as friendly as your first meeting. Until one day, at about two in the morning, you could hear fighting next door. It woke you up out of your sleep as something was thrown against the wall over and over and over, then there was the yelling and growling and snarling. You knew Logan and Wade fought a lot in a mostly unserious way, but it was way to fucking early for DIY WWE. You knew better than to get involved in one of their fights. They were mutants, you weren’t, and you were not about to get in the middle of whatever they had going on. It’s kinda funny, considering what you’ve been told your whole life- the typical Alpha propaganda, being the strongest, the fastest, the leader. Your sure it worked on some people, but you were very fortunate to not fall down the aggressive uber dominate typical male alpha rabbit hole- you knew you wouldn’t always be the fastest, the strongest, or the most eligible leader just because you were an alpha (which most alphas should have figured out by now, considering that, like, half of the fucking Avenger are omegas- it was really funny trying to see people grabble with that fact when it came out.)

Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you realized that the fighting had stopped, and now it was eerily quiet. You decided that it wasn’t your problem and rolled over to finally get some sleep. Your eyes were closed for maybe thirty seconds when a rapid banging on your door forced you out of bed.

Your door had long since been fixed, unlocking the door and swinging it open, a deeply tired look on your face.

Logan stood in front of you, covered in more blood that you’ve seen on a person in your entire life. A large gash on his face sealing itself right before your eyes.

“Are you two done?” You asked tiredly.

He nodded, you stepped aside to let him in, only to look down and notice the trail of blood left by his boots. You grabbed him by the back of his shirt like you’d grab an unruly cat by its scruff.

“Take your shoes off, go shower.” He paused, turning around with a questioning look on his face, but he obeyed anyway.

Taking off his bloodied boots and tossing them out the door. You could smell something different in the air, but you were too tired to care- it wasn’t smoke or gas, so you weren’t worried about it, but it was something- something distinctly sweet.

You pointed Logan to the bathroom, flicking the light on with him trailing behind you. You could feel the energy practically draining out of your body every second you were conscious.

Muttering, “All the towels in the cabinet are clean-” you paused for a moment, really taking in the state of the man clothes, torn and bloodied- you noticed the small knife sticking out of his shoulder and didn’t even bother panicking, “You can leave you clothes on the counter, put the knife in the sink though. I’ll bring you something to wear.”

He listened well, you figured he must be tired too, his half-lidded expression and general obedience was surprising, but welcome at 2 in the morning.

You walked past him, turning the shower on before leaving without saying a word, closing the door behind you.

You left out a spare pillow and cover for the man, the same ones as last time, washed, of course, because Logan left them smelling like alcohol and you really didn’t want that stinking up your apartment. You moved on to half heartedly cleaning the blood off the floor with a couple of paper towels- cleaning may have been too strong a phrase, you really just threw them over the bloody footprints and moved on for the night.

Finding Logan some clothes was really a guessing game, you couldn't really ask the man what size he wore, and it took you an embarrassingly long time to find something you thought would fit him.

~~~~~~~

A sudden waft of cold air that filled the bathroom when you swung the door open, Logan could hear you moving around. Hot water cascaded down his body, washing away any evidence of the fight he’d had with Wade- really he needed to learn to shut the fuck up sometimes, that clearly wasn’t happening anytime soon, so Logan would settle for breaking his jaw over and over again until he got the point. It never stuck through, not with Wade, even after breaking his spine at least twice the man kept talking. The fight ended when Al woke up, not that Wade really cared, because even then he wouldn’t leave Logan alone. Because he likes Al, and to prove Wade wrong, he headed over to your house.

Despite what Wade had heavily insisted, he’s not avoiding you, and he’s not suppressing any feelings for you because there weren’t any to be had in the first place.

“‘Left you some clothes, i'm gonna wash yours, I’ll try and fix them in the morning but they’re pretty beat up.” He could hear how tired you were, and if he was anybody else he might have felt guilty for keeping you up this late. Surprisingly, he was enjoying the attention.

You were gone before he could respond, by the time he got out of the shower he couldn’t hear any movement around your apartment, so he figured you went to bed. Cracking the bathroom door to let some of the steam out and wiping his hand on the fogged over mirror, his body had healed completely, no longer bruised or caked with blood. Rubbing his hand over his face, suddenly feeling just as tired as you had looked, looking down at the neatly folded pile of clothes replacing his old ones. A large black Superman t-shirt and a gray hoodie, long, red checkered pajama pants, and navy blue underwear, folded right on top. The clothes smelled like you, and not just like the detergent you used, no, they had your natural scent on them. Logan wasn’t going to not wear them, considering he had nothing else to wear and he really didn’t want to walk over to his place to get clothes. He thought back to what happened last time he was here- when he broke in. He doesn’t really remember much of that night, but he does remember his dream. It started off as nothing, the usual black void that kept him calm as he slept, then an unfamiliar scent changed that- he had what he considered an under-active imagination, but that scent kicked it into hyperdrive. He dreamed of being held and loved, but most prominently of getting fucked. Logan would be the first to say that it’s been a long time for him, and that was partially his own fault, chronic self isolation did that, and partially because the only people he’d ever wanted to fuck him were dead. Not all of them, apparently, because whoever scent it was driving him insane. He’s been called feral before, along with other things, but it made him feel like his heat was about to start at that very second. It was miracle he didn’t wake up covered in his own slick that moring- or worse, start his heat in your fucking living room- and that was just from having a cover on him, actually wearing your clothes might put him in a coma.

He figured the strong scent of alcohol covered any of his lingering arousal, or maybe you were too nice to say anything. And you cooked for him- he broke into your house, damaged your property and you fucking cooked for him.

Wade swore he has a crush on you- which led to them fighting, of course, but they fought most days over any little thing. This wasn’t anything new.

He put on the clothes more hesitantly than he’d ever admit- and it was almost overwhelming, but he pushed through it, cutting off the light in the bathroom and navigating through your dark apartment. The light in the living room was on, as well as the TV, the remote was sat on top of the folded cover you left out for him. He quickly settled, he didn’t usually watch TV when he went to sleep, but he needed something to distract from your scent right now. Finding some shitty home improvement show and settling on the couch, keeping his mind as blank as he could, he had Jean to thank for that skill because it was really useful right now. Couldn’t think of sex if he wasn’t thinking at all. Letting the mind numbingly boring show be the white noise as he drifts off.

Logan, however, could not control his thoughts while he was asleep. His subconscious was working overtime, now, with a face and a voice to put to the alpha whose scent had effortlessly disarmed him and brought him to his knees.

It was such an easy image to conjure, you sitting in front of him as he rested his head on your thigh, running your hands through his hair as he stared up at you with pleading eyes, you smiled down at him, a small, warm smile, swearing lightly as he slowly unzipped your pants, already hard and waiting for him, you’d grab him by the hair and he’d let out a slow purr as you pulled him closer. Taking the tip of your cock in his mouth, sliding his tongue over it a few times, finally getting a taste of what he so desperately craves. He took as much as he could in his mouth, feeling it hit the back of his throat. Looking up at you again, a string of moans fell from your open mouth, your eyes just barely open, staring down at him. Your grip on his hair tightened for a moment, the shot of pain coursing through his scalp for a short moment, a muffled moan left him, before settling as you released him. Using his tongue to feel every little vein in your cock, moving slowly as you ran your fingers through his hair again. Feeling no need to rush as the heat in his chest and in his stomach grew hotter and hotter.

His own cock throbbed between his legs but he didn’t touch it, even as it leaked and mixed with the mess of slick in the boxer you gave him, he had no doubt that you would handle it. Letting your cock prod his throat and push past the barrier. Almost all his airflow was blocked but he didn’t pull back, trying to take you as deep as he could only to be yanked back by his hair. Pulled completely off your cock, he looked up at you, confused.

“What?” He said, his voice rough and deep.

You didn’t respond, instead, you stood, still holding onto him- and practically dragged him to your bedroom. He tried to keep up on all fours, panting and moaning at the pain and at how much this turned him on.

He was practically purring in your hand as you guided him onto your bed.

“You look so good like this,”

Your voice was sweet and genuine, quiet praises fell from your mouth as you slowly removed his clothes piece by piece. He only got hotter the more you revealed of him, the burning under his skin reaching an all time high. Once he was completely bare in front of you, you ran your hands across his body, starting at his chest, moving all the way down to his stomach and the thick trail of hair leading down to his cock, then back up again.

“Tell me what you want sweetheart.” You muttered, leaning down and pressing a kiss on his collar.

“I-” he breathed out, vision slightly blurred, “I want you.”

You smiled, kissing his neck, his jaw, his lips, “I want you, too.”

~~~~~~~

The almost overbearing smell of burning oak and honey pulled you out of your sleep, checking your phone, you saw that it’s been less that three hours since you let Logan in, and his scent, which was usually calm and almost unnoticeable, was filling your bedroom, even with him nowhere in sight. Running your hand over your face with a tired groan, then you took a deep breath, and any irritation you felt rising at being woken up again melted away. You enjoyed the scent longer than you should have- it made you feel warm on an otherwise cold night.

For a second you considered opening the window- you were practically drowning in his scent and you aren’t even in the same room- but a sudden and overwhelming feeling of possessiveness kept you from doing it. Logan was vulnerable right now, what kind of friend would you be if you let just anyone encounter him like this- god, what if Wade of all people found out, you nor Logan would ever hear the end of it. A small part of your brain that wasn’t completely clouded by Logan’s utterly intoxicating scent wondered why he suddenly decided to present so strongly, a louder, more primal part of your brain screamed “Heat!” until it's all you could think of. The thought made a shiver shoot through your spine as blood pooled straight downward.

You tried to think of what could have started his heat so suddenly, but any detective work would have to wait until you didn’t feel like breeding him anymore. That quiet, logical part of your brain was telling you to stay in your room- but it was too quiet and you ended up leaving your room and heading into the pitch black darkness that was the rest of your house. You moved completely out of muscle memory, heading straight to the living room. You could feel the heat radiating off the man the second you entered, reaching for the light on the wall, missing it twice before flipping the switch. The room lit up immediately. Logan was truly something out of your wildest fantasies, face buried in a pillow, cover completely discarded on the floor, his shirt rode up while his pants were riding down in an attempt to relieve the heat burning in his skin. Hips rolling against the couch cushion as soft, almost inaudible moans escaped the man. You just stared for a long moment, frozen in shock at the sight.

You were fully aware you shouldn’t be watching this, your heart was pounding it your chest, and your dick was throbbing in your pants.

Your breath caught in your throat when he stopped, a long groan emitting from him as he rolled onto his back.

Fully hard and straining against the pajama pants you gave him, taking a deep breath in through his nose, then his body tensed, a second later his eyes snapped open and he stared you down, just a few feet away from him, just as flustered, heart pounding just as hard as his, pants just as tight and straining. He pushed himself up, swinging his legs over so he was sitting upright. He gave you a small challenging look. That’s all it took for any bit of resolve you had to be thrown out the window.

It was a messy, desperate first kiss, your hands practically clawing at each other's bodies as you pressed your lip to his- Logan decided that you were definitely a better kisser in real life than you were in his dream. It left both of you hot and gasping for air. Pushing Logan back down onto the couch, pushing his legs open and slotting yourself between them. He pulled back with a winded laugh and a smirk.

“Mhh, what’s so funny?” you asked, not waiting for him to answer before you continued kissing any exposed bit of skin you could find, leaving a hickey on his collar bone- only to watch it disappear seconds later.

He craned his neck back almost instinctively, giving you as much space as he could.

“Didn’t think I’d actually ever want an alpha,’ thought that was a bunch of bullshit.”

You hummed, your hands finding their way under his shirt, feeling his skin against yours, the searing heat of it. Feeling what Wade had called on numerous occasions ‘fucking massive tits’. You had to say he was right, watching as a shudder ran through Logan's body.

“And now?” You asked, a small smirk on your face.

He hissed quietly, rolling his hips against yours, “I’m fucking burning for you.”

You felt the nearly unsuppressable urge to mark him rise. He wanted you, he was burning for you.

Not any other alpha out there- He could have gone anywhere tonight, you're sure he knew every late night bar in a 50 mile radius, and he still came to you.

You pulled back, nearly ripping his pants in a desperate attempt to get them off- your frantic, ecstatic state made a small laugh rise in Logan’s chest, he didn’t even consider helping you. He let you do all the work, if you were that desperate for him then you wouldn’t complain- and you didn’t. (He was a considerable amount more desperate than you were, considering he was just humping your couch like a damn dog 5 minutes ago and he just started what was more than likely going to be a very, very bad heat.)

When you were finally able to get his pants off, you could feel just how wet he was. The navy boxer you gave him were drenched in slick, clinging to him, showing off the hard outline of his cock. Logan sunk farther into the couch, a low purr emitting from deep in his chest.

“Don’t just look.” he panted.

His body reacted so strongly every time you took your hands off of him, even if it was just for a moment, his body would ache and writhe the second they were away from him. He let out a low breath when you finally touched him again, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other holding his face as you kissed him. He moaned unapologetically, loud, but muffled by your lips as you kissed him. His hips bucked up into your hands as you rubbed him through his boxer. Logan's head fell back against the cushions, eyes squeezed shut as a babble of swears fell from his lips, almost indistinguishable from his moans and low growls.

You tease him for what, to Logan, felt like hours. Sensitive and so pent up, he clung to you, holding your body against his, his face buried in your neck, taking in as much of your scent as he could. The burning in his skin didn’t stop, but it felt a lot cooler with you against him.

Logan was scenting you- you realized that the two of you would be smelling like each other and sex for at least a week- a part of you wished it was longer. That he’d walk around and have everyone in his vicinity know he was yours.

Your hand slipped under his boxers, pulling them down until they were about mid thigh. Moving past his hard, twitching cock and straight down to his hole. Soaking wet, you barely touched it before he squirted more slick onto your hand. Still with your face pressed to his neck, you chuckled.

“I barely even touched you..” you muttered.

With a growl, he said, “fuck off.”

You kissed his neck, right over the scent gland, making it flare up again.

“Make me, cowboy.”

You didn't give him time to respond, pushing two fingers into his hole, feeling him clench around them. His hips shifted against yours as you massaged his walls, listening to him grunt, and purr, and moan. Rubbing his cock against your still clothed one. Little sits of pre-cum beading at the tip and smearing on your pants.

He could feel pressure building in his stomach, it was sudden and unstoppable- not like he’d want it to- with little warning to you, his body tensed hard, his legs closing around your body and his arms holding you in an almost crushing grip. He whined, bucking hard and fast against you- trying to fuck your fingers deeper into him as cum short from his cock, staining your pants and both your shirts.

Fuck, that only made things worse. Once his arms were loose enough around you, you pulled back, sitting up and looking at the mess between the two of you. His legs were wide open, one hooked on the back of the couch, the other hanging off the side. He stared at you, pupils blown wide, thrusting his hips against nothing in a desperate attempt to feel something.

“More.” He growled out.

“You want more?” You asked in a teasing tone, moving your hands to rest on his thighs.

He nodded.

You hummed softly, leaning down and kissing his cheek, “Ok sweetheart, I’ll give you more.”

He purred at the nickname. Letting his eyes close he listened to you move, hearing each article of clothes hit the floor, your scent got stronger and he breathed it in as deeply as he could.

Logan gasped when you pressed the tip of your cock against his hole, trying to press against it only for you to pull back.

“Relax.” You said, running your hands over his thighs I what he figured was supposed to be a soothing motion be it only made things worse

-you were right there, just a little bit more, please-

“You’d think after being alive for 200 years you’d learn some patients.” You pushed in slowly, watching as his mouth fell open in a silent moan. Pushing in inch by inch, feeling how hot he was around you, squeezing you tight. Finally, you were fully pushed inside him. His hands grinned the couch cushions so tight you thought they might tear.

Teeth clenched hard and chest heaving, he nearly shouted, “fucking move!”, after a second, “please.”

You abided, pulling half way out, giving him a shallow thrust. Over and over, pulling out farther and farther, then burying your cock back into his hole until you were slamming into him burying you cock deep inside him every time.

Shame seemed to stop existing for him as he moaned your name loud and clear, then,

“More Alpha, come on- please.”

He said it so easily that he almost didn’t realize it until you paused, looking down at him, a nearly unreadable expression in your face.

Panting, you said, “say that again.”

So gone, so beyond horny that his mind had slipped away from him, catching up moments later.

“More, y/n-“ you pinched his side, a wide grin on your face.

“That’s not what you said.”

He huffed, “fuck you.”

You gave him a slow, soft thrust, “come on, you already said it, it just wanna hear it again.”.

He glared up at you, resisting the urge to tell you to get to hell.

“Please..Alpha.”

The look on your face made it worth it, you pulled back until just the tip of your cock remained inside. Logan knew you weren’t going to pull out now, so he braces himself for the hard pounding he knew was inevitable. When it did come he put a couple claw shaped holes in your couch.

His body bounced hard with every thrust. Listening to you growl and pant as you hammered into him. This was miles better than any dream or fantasy. Holding on to the couch for dear life.

Minutes passed and you showed no sign of slowing down, even as another orgasm shot through Logan’s body, you didn’t stop, looking down at the cum splattered across his chest.

“My pretty omega-“ you panted, you felt Logan tighten around you, “want me to fill you with my cum, huh?”

Logan, covered in his own sweat, slick, and cum, barely able to think, nodded.

He could feel your knot starting to swell, it took more and more force to push into him- it made you slower, but you still slammed into him just as hard. Your pre-cum leaked into his hole, your own orgasm moments away and Logan could tell.

A little dizzy, he put his hands on your shoulder, trying to guide you down but you wouldn't go- even though he was dazed and ,for the most part, satiated, there was still something he wanted.

“Y/n, mhhm- Alpha- mark me-”

It wasn't a request, it was an order, and you couldn't find it in yourself to deny him.

You couldn't think of the repercussions, what this would mean for either of your futures, what it would do to your still extremely new relationship, not because you didn't want to, but you physically couldn't, the idea of making him yours was too strong.

You leaned down and pressed your teeth into his bare skin. You could only taste his blood for a short moment, the skin healed as fast as it broke- instead of perfectly clear skin being left there was a scar. Before you could even begin to wonder how that could happen you came hard, knot swelling, keeping you locked deep inside of Logan as you finished inside of him.

You pressed a kiss on his cheek, he blinked tiredly, a small grin on his face.

“What?” you yawned, feeling exhausted.

“I owe Wade an apology..”

You groaned, flopping down onto his chest.

“Don't bring him up now,”

He laughed, “‘ thought you liked him?”

“Yeah, just not while my dick is still in you, you can talk all you want about Wade in 30 to 40 minutes when my knot goes down.” you said, wrapping your arms around you to the best of your ability.

He did the same, “Fine.”

~~~~~~~

Logan’s heat lasted about a week, he stayed with you the whole time, partially because he really didn’t want to deal with Wade, but mostly because the two of you could not stop fucking. He was your mate after all, what were you supposed to do, let him suffer? In the past 6 days you and Logan have fucked a total of 9 times-

-10 if he didn’t stop kissing you neck right fucking down.

“Logan, I have to go to work,” You said in a stern tone that only made him want you more.

“Call off.”

“I’ve already been off for six days because of you.”

He really didn’t care- you could feel him leave a hickey on your neck- as though you weren’t already covered in hundreds of bites and bruises because of him.

“I’m going to lose my job-”

“Come on, please?” He said quietly.

You took a deep breath in-

“What the fuck, I leave for a couple of days and you house break my roommate!”

Oh god, it's entirely too early for this.

You don’t know where Wade came from, but now he’s in your kitchen with you and Logan.

“Kidding, I’ve been listening to you two fuck all week. You-” He puts a finger in your chest, “-are a real freak. And I thought I was a dirty dog, you are really something else.”

“Fuck off, Wade.” Logan said, seems like the mere presence of Wade turned him off.

“And you, I don’t even know what to say to you- You think you know a guy, live with him for a year and he just doesn’t tell you he’s an omega, that's considered extremely rude in most places. You don’t have to worry about anyone else being surprised, I’m pretty sure they heard you begging for Y/n sweet, succulent dick all the way in Europe.”

You stood, grabbing your keys off the counter- you were not staying and watching Wade get torn to shreds.

You turned to Logan to see that he was thoroughly pissed off.

“Don't get blood on my floor.” You kissed his cheek, knowing it was very likely that he was going to get blood on every surface. “Have fun.”

You walked away, hearing a loud thump behind you and deciding that you weren’t going to pay it any attention, even as Wade’s high pitched screams met your ears. Reaching the front door you saw it in pieces again. That was a problem for later, for now you needed to get to work and attempt to explain to your manager why you’ve been MIA.

Request are open

#x male reader #male reader #male!reader #x male!reader #logan howlett x male reader #Logan howlett x male!reader #logan howlett x reader #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #omegaverse #x men x male!reader #x men x male reader #wolverine x male!reader #wolverine x male reader #wolverine x reader #top!male!reader #top male reader #top reader #spoke with the mf who requested this and they already want a part two lmao

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livelaughlovesubs · 4 months

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Nini I want to fuck a demon boy so bad I can't. I'm so sleep deprived and this is the only thing on my mind. The idea of this powerful demon who's not used to being challenged, just ending up ass up face down on the floor, bed WHEREVER. It's not important. Ending up like that is just peak. Also I like to think they'd have sensitive tails. So. Like. I totally.

Wanna make them fuck themselves with their own tail. I think that'd be great. I think it would be awesome.

I want them to get so flustered at the idea of doing it, but do it anyway just coz I told them to. I can almost imagine them finding their own prostate with their tail, and really they can't decide which sensation to focus on. Feeling themselves clench around their own tail, or the way the slightly pointed end slams into their prostate. And bonus points if they cum and you overstim them by grabbing their tail and fucking them so much harder than they could themselves. Hooray, now they've got

your hand around their already much too sensitive tail

said sensitive tail is being slammed into their ass

it's gotta feel so good, they'd probably be so tight around themselves

your hand is gonna slip a few times, which is gonna end up in stroking their tail, which has got to feel like heaven for them

not to forget that you're thrusting their tails directly onto their prostate without letting them breathe

I just. I don't know. I think they'd look so pretty, flushed and begging to stop, even though it's them that keeps weakly trying to thrust their tail back into themselves. Also, they'd look so pathetic, sobbing from the overstimulation. I'm a sucker for tears trailing down their faces, eyes red and a little puffy. It'd almost make you wanna be nice to them. Almost.

But yknow, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. And sometimes what a girl's gotta do is fuck a demon stupid with their own tail. (I don't have the same way with words as some people, but like do you see the vision)

~a sleep deprived,🧁anon

You are so smart holy shit. You don’t give yourself enough credit. Fucking a demon with their own tail? Why didn’t I think of something as great as this??! Lemme write down my thoughts for a sec- (btw I thought you are like, very religious?)

Dom!reader x sub!character

You had a long day behind you, and there was nothing sweeter than the thought of finally getting some sleep. All you wanted was to have a good rest, but to your demise you woke up in the middle of the night with something heavy on top of you. “Ops, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Oh well this will do too.” What the hell? It was a fucking person?? First thing you did was push him off of you and turning on the lights, then you thought this was some kind of weird joke. He had two horns growing out of his forehead, as well as a super long tail with a heart shaped tip. Not to mention the pink, glowing tattoo on his pelvis. When he opened his mouth again, you thought you didn’t hear right. “I’m an incubus, pleasant to meet you~ now let me feast on you, pretty please?”

An incubus, so, in other words a demon. What in the- never mind. He said he wanted to feast on you? Heck no, he woke you up in the middle of the night and is expecting you to have the energy to fuck him? As soon as he got up to try make a move on you, you flipped him over and tangled your hand in his hair, then pressed his face into your pillow. “If you are that desperate do it yourself.” Of course that little slut was into that.

He reached for his dick, but you slapped his hand away and instead grabbed his tail. “MhMngh- aaAAHhnn~!” A surprised yet blissful moan escaped him, face all red as lust fills their already sinful body. Anticipation swelling inside them at the thought of what you might do with them. That’s when they felt their own tail poking against their butt… wait wha? In the mean time you stroked it gently while whispering, “I want to watch you fuck yourself, who knows, I might reward you afterwards.” Suddenly all their previous confidence vanished as embarrassment took over. With their own tail..?? How did you even get that idea! Not even something as perverted as them had such outrageous ideas..!

In the end they could only obey without protesting, trusting their already super sensitive tail into their tight, wet hole. Each time they accidentally hit their prostate, they’d yelp and whimpers. Pretty tears are already rolling down their even prettier faces. Eyes half lidded as they whine, “mhm! Ah-ahhHh.. nghHnn~!!” All while their poor, useless dick is twitching around on its own, making a mess everywhere <3

Gojo, Sukuna, Dazai, Fyodor, Nikolai, jouno, Scaramouch, Kaeya, lyney, Ayato, Aventurine, Sampo, Jing Yuan (?), Douma - your favourites

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stevie-petey · 2 months

Text

episode eight: the battle of starcourt

He fights with it, tries desperately not to let it fall, all while his resume hangs from his mouth. “Shit! Oh, Fast Times! Ever heard of it? Top three for me, Keith.” Robin laughs and Steve turns the cardboard cutout to you, wiggling his eyebrows. “Own any red bikinis?” You flick his forehead, though you laugh as well. “In your dreams.” “I can sleep right now and find out–” “I will flick you again.” “A kiss is preferred, but whatever.”

Summary: jonathan becomes a certified surgeon, hopper returns and is oddly sentimental (wonder what that could mean !), you and dustin show off your musical theater talents, the mind flayer becomes a track star, fireworks become weapons, and really a lot just happens so suddenly it gives you whiplash. dont worry though, the rest of your summer involves painful goodbyes and the scary realization that youre growing up. absolutely disgusting. but at least steve gets to kiss you whenever now, so hooray for that ! side note: you keep making promises to people, surely there wont be narrative foreshadowing as a result !

Rating: general, violence and swearing

Warnings: blood, swearing, major character death, graphic depictions of violence, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 21.2k (ouch)

Before you swing in: this was my magnum opus. truly. so so so much happens in this chapter, this episode is INSANE. it took me a while, the scenes were hard and complex, but im happy with the final results :) ive been waiting a long time to write this ending, to set up the strings for later in season 4 <3 i sincerely hope this chapter is all yall have wanted. if theres any glaring typos, pls ignore because its 21.2k words and im weak from rereading it. anyways, i have a sneaky lil link right here that will make sense at the end of the chapter (spoiler alert: it's a mixtape jonathan makes for bug). enjoy !

El’s screams tear out of her body. She writhes in pain, sobs claw out of her throat. It’s unbearable to watch, the sight of her in immeasurable pain. It breaks your heart.

No one knows what to do.

Mike thrashes in your arms still. He tries to escape your hold so that he can cover his body with El’s. Take away her pain somehow. But you won’t let him. You know that it hurts him to see her this way, but his panic will only drive El’s panic further.

“What is that?” Disgust litters Erica’s face as she stares at the moving creature within El’s leg. Gently you push the girl away, not wanting to crowd El too much. She needs space to breathe.

“There’s something in her leg,” Mike sneers into your face as he fights against you again. He’s furious, he’s overwhelmed, he just wants to help. “Let go!”

Your arms tighten around the boy. He isn’t in the right state of mind. Frantic, you look to your left and start forming a plan. “Jonathan, my switchblade is in my left back pocket. Grab it.” He stares at you, unsure what to do, and you raise your voice into a yell. “Grab it.”

Jonathan jumps at the command and his hand disappears behind you. You feel him find the weapon and pull it out. He holds it in front of you, offering it, but you don’t accept it. “Go and disinfect it. There’s a gas stove where you found us. Heat up the blades so that we can–” you swallow as nausea fills you. “We–we have to cut it out of her leg.”

The moment Jonathan is gone, you turn your attention to Mike and Steve. You try to keep your voice leveled, try to contain the blinding panic that screams in your head. El needs you right now. Swallowing again, you start to speak to them. “I need you guys to talk to El. Keep her awake.”

“Right, okay.” Mike nods, and you finally release him. He hovers over El, his voice is gentle as he tries to calm her. “Hey, stay awake, okay?”

You tug Steve towards El’s legs so that he can help you move her into a better position. “Get her onto her side. Mike, put her head in your lap.”

Both boys do as they’re told. Everyone watches, and Robin tries to make light of the situation. She rambles about a girl from her soccer team who once broke her leg. How the bone had ripped clean through her skin. The story makes you shiver, and Steve sees the discomfort. “Robin, hey. You’re not helping.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jonathan returns, out of breath. “Okay. Alright, El?” He looks down at the girl. Tries to steady his breathing. “This is gonna hurt like hell, okay?”

El whimpers out that she understands, and you take hold of her hand. “Sweetheart, you need to brace yourself. I promise it will be over soon.”

“I’ll be fast, but I need you to stay real still. Here,” Jonathan hands a wooden spoon to Mike. “You’re gonna want to bite down on this, okay?”

Teeth bared, El clenches her teeth around the spoon. Her body braces for what’s about to come. Kneeling next to her, you angle your body over hers and pin her arms down with your hands. You look at Mike, ordering him to do the same. “Hold her shoulders. Don’t let her go, no matter what.”

He pales, but swallows deeply and nods. When Mike is in position, you signal to Jonathan to start cutting. “Do it.”

“Okay,” Jonathan inhales. The knife you’ve given him shakes as he holds it over El’s wound. He’s fucking terrified, but he knows it’s the only way. Exhaling, he cuts into her flesh. Blood pours from the wound and El’s screams tear from her chest.

Everyone makes a sound of disgust and horror. Your own stomach lurches at the sight of Jonathan cutting into the leg. The image, the way El’s body convulses, the screams she releases, it’s all too much. You don’t feel yourself shaking until Steve guides your head into the nook of his shoulder, shielding you.

“Thank you,” your breathing is shaky. You aren’t even sure if he’s heard you, but Steve nods and his hand rubs up and down your back. He’s doing whatever he can to help, being the solid surface you need to lean upon. Lending you the strength you need to hold El down and save her.

You hear your knife glance against the ground, followed by El’s scream becoming deafening. Unable to stop yourself, you pull away from Steve to look at what’s happening. When you do, you almost gag. Jonathan’s fingers are now in El’s leg, digging underneath the flesh and muscle to find whatever the hell is in there. A horrible squelching sound fills the air. Faintly you think you can hear Will crying behind you.

Jonathan struggles, digs deeper into the leg, but it only seems to be making everything worse. El twists and contorts beneath you, in agonizing pain. Her screams only intensify. A tear from your eye lands on her shirt, and you force yourself to hold her down despite how desperately you want to end it.

“Goddamn it!” Jonathan can’t find it. He can’t find whatever the hell is in El’s leg. It keeps moving the moment he thinks he has it. Everything is slick from blood.

“No!” El spits out the wooden spoon, her voice raw from screaming. “Stop it!”

You can’t stomach her pain any longer. The moment she pleads for it to stop, you move off of El and push Jonathan away from her. Nancy helps, touches his shoulder to alert him as well. The moment she has the room to, El sits herself up. “I can do it.

“Do what, El?” You ask, though you think you know anyways.

She breathes heavily. Tears flow freely down her face. She’s sitting down, one of her knees is pressed against her chest. The injured leg remains flat on the ground, her hand outstretched above it. Static, the one you always feel when El uses her powers, surrounds you. There’s a low hum, she grunts and screams, and yet her hand remains steady. You rub her back, offering her all the strength you can give her, in awe despite the poor timing of it.

To have the strength to expel a foreign object from your body. You can’t imagine it.

El releases one final long, harrowing scream. The lights flicker, the windows behind you rattle violently. You only just barely manage to cover Dustin and the kids from the shards of glass before they explode. At the same time, a small, writhing creature shoots from El’s leg. It stalls in the air, hovering in front of her face as she continues to scream. The creature is no bigger than the size Dart had been when Dustin first found him. The idea that it had been buried in El’s leg makes you feel ill.

With the last of her energy, El flings the creature across the room. It lands with a sickening thud on the floor, before it starts to move. You watch in horror as it scurries away, releasing its own screech, until Hopper’s boot crashes down upon it, killing it.

You’ve never been happier to see that cranky son of a bitch.

Joyce stands behind him and you whimper pathetically when you see her. You miss your own mother. It’s been days since you’ve last seen her. You’re more homesick than you’ve ever been before.

Alongside Joyce and Hopper is a man you’ve never seen before. He has glasses and a beard. As you study him, Jonathan makes a surprised sound. “Murray?”

“You know him?”

Jonathan nods at you. “He’s the detective Nance and I visited last year.”

“He’s insane.” Nancy says, though there’s a nostalgic smile on her face.

Hopper steps forward, investigating the scene. Glass crunches beneath his boots. He stops in front of you and El. He looks down at you. “Always at the scene of the crime, huh?”

“Yeah,” you blow hair out of your face. “Can’t seem to ever stop myself.” Then, finally noticing his aggressively bright and floral shirt that he’s wearing, you tilt your head to the side. “Nice shirt, by the way. I like the color on you. You’ve been direly needing some color in your life.”

Dustin snorts and El manages a tired smile. Hopper rolls his eyes at you, though you can tell it’s more from fondness rather than annoyance like it usually is. You watch as his eyes drift towards Joyce, uncharacteristically shy. “Thanks, kid.”

“Anytime, old man.”

–

“The Mind Flayer, it built this monster in Hawkins, to stop El, to kill her and pave a way into our world.”

You sit on the fountain’s edge. Dustin is next to you, Steve leans against you on the other side. Mike’s words surround you.

He explains what he and the others have been dealing with while you’ve been gone. Innocent people have been getting possessed and turned into chemicalized substances. Their bodies melting together, conjoining to create a monster meant to kill El. With every detail Mike remembers, your stomach twists uncomfortably. It doesn’t sound real. It sounds like a thing from nightmares.

And somehow Billy has become the face of it.

The last time you saw him, he had been a shell of who he used to be. He had been in pain. Obvious pain. Sweat had run down his flushed skin and his eyes had a frost in them unlike anything you had ever seen before. Instead of helping him, instead of telling anyone about this, you had abandoned Billy.

“How big is this thing?” Hopper asks, shifting so that El can rest more comfortably against him.

Jonathan sighs. “It’s… It’s big. Real big. Thirty feet, at least.”

“You’ve seen it?” Your eyes draw to the bruise on his forehead. The pained noise he made when you hugged him still rings in your ears.

“We’ve had a rough night.” Nancy whispers, eyes downcast.

“It sorta destroyed Hopper’s cabin.” Lucas looks up at the chief, a poorly feigned apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry.”

Steve interjects now. He asks questions, tries to make sure he understands. As he speaks with the group, your head falls onto his shoulder. Your head spins. Only hours ago you were dealing with Russians and national emergencies. Now, you and Steve try to wrap your heads around the idea of a giant human goo creature wreaking havoc on Hawkins.

Which, according to Max, is still very much alive.

But that doesn’t stop Will from trying to help. “But if we close the gate again–”

“We cut the brain off from the body.”

“And kill it.” Lucas finishes for Max. “Theoretically.”

It sounds so simple, but you’ve been here before.

You’ve heard this conversation already; you were standing in the Byers’ dining room. Steve had been next to you, just like he is now, and Jonathan had been on your other side. The people surrounding you were the same, only now Robin and Will join. That November, the conversation had terrified you. Closing the gate. Killing the Mind Flayer and destroying its army.

It had been the exact same conversation. And it terrifies you still, now. Only this time the fear is accompanied by an emptiness.

You’ve been here before. It hadn’t been enough.

“How many more times are we going to kill it?” Your head remains pressed against Steve. Your eyes don’t lift from the ground. Exhaustion sags your body. “We thought we already killed the Mind Flayer. We went through hell and back to close the gate, only for it to be opened again not even a year later. By another country. I mean,” laughter crawls out of your throat. “Who’s to say that they won’t just open the gate again? They’ve already done it once–”

“Loverboy over here,” The bearded man from earlier, Murray, suddenly appears and slaps the back of Jonathan’s head. The man has a mad smile on his face, the kind that tells you he’s an insane genius. After Jonathan shoves him away, Murray stops in front of you. He looks down, a curious glint in his eyes. “He told me you were a ray of sunshine. Gotta be honest. I’m not really getting a real sunshine vibe from you.”

Steve subtly shifts your body so that he’s in front of you. His eyes are narrowed, body tense. “What’s that in your hands?”

Murray seems to now remember what he interrupted the group for. He clutches the pieces of paper in his hands, waves them in the air. “Ah. These, my perfectly coiffed haired friend, are blueprints.”

“That’s just a poorly done drawing of squares and lines.” You squint at the papers. They’re no better than the map Mike had scribbled to navigate the tunnels last year.

“Seriously,” Murray turns back to Jonathan again. “I thought she was supposed to be the nice one.”

You open your mouth to argue, not at all liking whatever this random man is insinuating, but Hopper steps forward first. “Just start talking.”

He sighs, but agrees. Motioning everyone to follow, Murray guides the group to a nearby table so that he can lay his drawings out for everyone to see. “Okay, this is what Alexei called ‘the hub’.” Murray points to the center of the first drawing. “Now, the hub takes us to the vault room.”

“Okay, where’s the gate?” Hopper hovers over him, attentive.

“Right here.” Murray now points to a random box, far from where you know the gate actually is. You bite your lip, unsure if you should speak up just yet. “I don’t know the scale on this, but I think it’s fairly close to the vault room. Maybe fifty feet or so.”

You snort obnoxiously loud, getting everyone’s attention. “You’re so wrong that it physically pains me.”

“I’m sorry?” Murray gives you an odd look. When Jonathan and Nancy showed up on his doorstep last year, the two of them had nothing but great things to say about you. Jonathan had waxed poetry about you while Nancy had sat at the dinner table, resentful. Now, meeting you, Murray is really struggling to understand where that all came from.

“It’s more like five hundred feet.” Erica says. When she sees Murray’s exasperated expression, she can’t help but laugh at the old man. “What, you’re just gonna waltz in there like it’s commie Disneyland or something?”

“And who are you?”

“Erica Sinclair. And who are you?”

“Murray… Bauman.”

“Listen, Mr. Bunman.” You have to stifle a laugh into Steve’s shoulder. You love Erica, you really do. “I’m not trying to tell you how to do things, but I’ve been down in that shithole for twenty-four hours. And with all due respect, you do what this man tells you, you’re all gonna die.”

“I’m sorry, why is this four year old speaking to me?”

You slide off the fountain’s edge and stand. Whoever this guy is, you don’t like his snippy attitude. “She’s ten, actually, and she’s right.”

“Yeah, you bald bastard!” Lucas reprimands her, but she doubles down. “Just the facts!”

While you enjoy her quips, you gently grab Erica’s shoulders and place her behind you. There isn’t time for her to make a grown man cry. “We went through hell down there. It won’t be as easy as walking fifty feet. The place is huge.”

“They’re right.” Dustin speaks up. “You’re all gonna die, but you don’t have to. Excuse me, may I?” Even before Murray has consented, your brother is already grabbing the blueprints. He sits down and starts explaining. “See this room here? This is a storage facility. There’s a hatch in here that feeds into their underground ventilation system.”

“It’s how we accidentally got in.” You add, figuring any extra information could help.

“Wait, you accidentally broke into a secret Russian lair?” Mike tries to hide it, but you can see that he’s impressed. You know that once this is all over, he’ll grill you for details later.

“No, we thought it’d be fun to get tortured by commies on the fourth of July.” Steve points to his swollen eye. “Yes, Wheeler. It was an accident.”

“Guys!” Dustin shouts. When he has everyone’s attention again, he sighs. “Jesus. Anyways, these vents will lead you to the base of the weapon. It’s a bit of a maze down there, but between me, Y/N, and Erica, we can show you the way.”

Hopper stares down at the three of you, unamused. “You can show us the way?”

Dustin is about to agree, but you cover his mouth with your hand. “Yes, I can show you the way. The kids can stay here, but I remember everything from when we were down there. If you want all the hero glory, then fine. Fight some Russians. But I can be your navigator.”

“No.” Hopper, Steve, Dustin, and Jonathan say at the same time.

You roll your eyes at all of them. “Okay, I was only talking to Hopper. The rest of you,” you glare at your brother and the two teens next to him. “Aren’t a part of this conversation.”

“There isn’t a conversation to be had, kid.” Hopper scoffs at you. He doesn’t want to hear whatever you’re about to say. He won’t let you back down there again. From the state Steve is in, Hopper doesn’t even want Joyce coming with him. “You’re not going. End of discussion.”

“You don’t seriously expect me to let you walk into a death trap, right? I mean, I know we argue a lot, but you can’t be that dumb.” Hopper has started to walk away now, trying to put an end to the conversation, but you follow him anyways. “Listen to me!” He ignores you, doesn’t turn around. Instead, Hopper starts gathering bullets as he picks up a shotgun from one of the guards on the ground. Groaning, you continue to chase him.

You don’t care how annoying you’re being. You’ll nag him until your last dying breath. If he doesn’t want you getting hurt, then he has to understand that you don’t want him getting hurt either. “Hopper, I’m serious. El…” You look at the girl, who is far behind the two of you now as she rests near the fountain. Your voice grows thick. A wave of emotions rush over you, seeing her. She’s so small. She’s still just a kid, despite the power that lies within her. “She needs you. You–you can’t get hurt.”

“And I won’t.”

“You don’t know that,” you grab the man’s shirt, but he tries to walk anyways. You plant your feet on the ground and grit your teeth. He’s frustratingly strong. “Please, just–you’re her father. You–you can’t leave her–” You stumble over your words, try to think of how to convince him. There has to be a way, a middle ground. Isn’t he the one who taught El what compromise means?

In your nagging midst, you overhear Dustin and the party all catch up. Talk about how they missed one another. It’s a sweet reunion, seeing them come together again after being separated for so long; your boys are together again. It feels like a lifetime ago where they were all together on Weathertop hill. Seeing them together again, it hits you.

The walkies. Cerebro.

“What if I could still communicate with you from above?” You shout, frantic. Hopper stops walking. He still doesn’t look at you, but he indicates that you have his attention. Taking a deep breath, you don’t waste any time. “We have walkies. Dustin, all the kids. It’s how they communicate with one another. Always have. What if… what if I give you directions using them? That way, you’ll fulfill your annoying need to be a hero while I fulfill my annoying need to protect everyone.”

Your words come rushing out, messy and jumbled, but Hopper seems to understand. He’s quiet, mulls what you’ve said over and over again in his head. He inhales, closes his eyes, and then exhales agonizingly slow. When he opens his eyes to look at you, he’s resolved. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”

A relieved smile graces your face. Knowing you’ve gotten through to Hopper, you finally release his shirt. You straighten it back out, wipe some dirt off of it. It really is a good shirt, one you know was almost definitely purchased for a woman named Joyce Byers. “It adds to my charm.”

Hopper chuckles, shakes his head, before walking over to where your brother stands with the others. He fishes a walkie from his back pocket, tosses a spare one to Dustin. “Hey, heads up. Your sister came up with a shockingly genius compromise. You guys can navigate, just from someplace safe.”

Dustin sighs. “It’s not that simple.”

“The signal won’t reach.” Erica clarifies for him.

You motion at them to explain faster. “But…”

“But,” Dustin quickly explains your idea. “We’d need something with a high enough frequency band to relay with the Russians’ radio tower. But for that to work, you need someone who has both seen their comms room and has access to a super-powered handcrafted radio–”

“Dustin,” you hit his shoulder, urging him to get to the point already. “Just tell him about Cerebro.”

“I was getting there! Look, we have one already situated at the highest point in Hawkins.” Your brother shakes his head. “If you need us to navigate, we got you. But we need a head start… and a car.”

“Hey, chief.” You stand beside Hopper now, grinning ear to ear. “Don’t you have a car?”

He stares past you, and the rage in his eyes amuses you immensely. It’s taking everything within him not to start yelling, which only causes your shit eating grin to grow. You extend your arm, hold your hand out palm-facing upwards. This is the best day of your life. “Come on, give me the car keys, Hopper.”

Sucking his teeth, Hopper drops the car keys into your hand. “I hate you.”

Hopper stands in front of you, annoyance and irritability in his eyes as he stares at you, but you don’t care. A surge of warmth cascades through you instead. He listened. It means more to you than the man could ever know. Your arms find their way around him, surprising both you and Hopper, as you pull him into a hug. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t make me regret it.” Hopper says, his voice rough. He clears his throat, allows his hand to pat your shoulder. He may not know what you’ve gone through, but he thinks he can understand the weight the history has left you. It’s the same weight that he carries every day. The guilt, the anger that follows it. He clears his throat again and pulls you off of him, keeping you at arm’s length. “Do me a favor, will you? Make sure El and the others are safe.”

You sniff, wipe away tears. You’re not sure why you’re crying. “I will, I promise. Good luck, old man.”

“Good luck, kid.” He hesitates, still holding your shoulders. His breath hitches and his eyes don’t leave yours. There’s something in them, almost a certain kindness that once reflected in your father’s eyes when you were younger. The gaze burns you at first, but you stare back at Hopper through it. After he seems to find what he’s looking for, Hopper swallows. He says what Joyce has always said about you; from his conversation with the woman back at Melvald’s. “You’re the best of them.”

More tears well in your eyes, but you wipe them away before he can tease you. Hopper releases you, shoves you in a playful manner, and you can’t help but laugh. It’s a warm moment. His words simmer on your skin. You’ve heard them before, you know what people say about you, but the words are different coming from Hopper.

Praise doesn’t come naturally to him. Words have always plagued him; the ones he has just told you hold a weight that’s even heavier than the guilt the two of you carry within yourselves. You’ve known Jim Hopper for three years now, but as you watch him walk over to El, soft smile still on his face from his conversation with you, you finally understand him.

–

Steve is waiting for you at the fountain, whispering quietly with Robin. The two of them stand off to the side, away from the others. He’s nervous, uncomfortable. He stands with his back away from Jonathan and Nancy, who are a few feet away talking to Murray. His arms are crossed over his chest and his fingers tap together in an anxious tick you’ve become familiar with.

The moment he sees you approaching, all the tension in Steve’s body melts away.

He grabs your hand the second you’re within reach. Pulling you into his chest, he kisses the top of your head. “Any updates, angel?”

You hum against him, allowing yourself a moment to bask in his warmth. It’s been a long day. It’ll be an even longer night. “You know Weathertop hill?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Good.” You place Hopper’s keys into Steve’s hand. “You’re driving us, then.”

Robin points at Jonathan, who sneaks glances at the three of you. “Define ‘us’. Because, no offense, he seems nice and all, but he keeps looking over at you like a lost puppy and it’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Be nice, he’s still my best friend.” Flicking her forehead, you silently scold Robin. “And it’s just going to be the three of us with Dustin and Erica. Jonathan and Nancy are taking the rest of the kids to Murray’s bunker. He’s just… He’s worried. Probably wants to make sure he says goodbye to me before we leave.”

Robin makes a confused face, reminding you that she’s new to all of this. That she hasn’t had to say goodbye to her loved ones every year with the fear of them not returning. You sigh. “It’s… Kinda a tradition, at this point. A final goodbye before all hell breaks loose.”

“How many times do you guys almost die on a weekly basis?”

Steve snorts. “Depends on the month. November seems to be our worst one, though.”

“Astounding…”

You leave Steve to deal with Robin’s amazement on his own, though you laugh as you walk away. Ever since the events of Will’s disappearance, you’ve done everything you can to not think about what you’ve all been through. However, seeing the bewildered amazement on Robin’s face the more you reveal to her, you can’t help but laugh.

Jonathan sees you approaching him and Nancy and steps aside to make room for you. They’re still talking to Murray, although the man is more lecturing them than anything. He holds up a bunch of keys, explaining in great detail which one goes into specific locks. It’s dizzying trying to keep track of it all.

Secretly, you’re grateful that you’re going with Steve and the others. Easier key instructions.

“This one is for the second to last bottom lock–”

“Murray, can I cut in real quick?” You try to be polite about it, but truly you don’t care whether or not you have the man’s permission.

He glares at you. “Aren’t you already?”

“Good point!” You grab Nancy’s and Jonathan’s arms and pull them away with a wicked smile on your face. When you’ve dragged them far enough away from Murray, you wrap your arms around them both. Jonathan sinks into the unexpected embrace. Nancy stiffens. You try to ignore it. “Get to that old man’s bunker safely, please?”

“Of course, bug.” Jonathan has wrapped an arm around you. He closes his eyes, his fingers span across your back. “Stay at Weathertop, get to safety. Maybe even get some rest while you can.”

“I’ll try, bee.” Your laugh is wet. This will never get any easier.

Nancy shifts in your embrace, and for a moment you’re afraid she’ll pull away entirely, but instead she surprises you by wrapping an arm around you as well. Her chin is tucked against your neck, she still hasn’t melted into the embrace like Jonathan has, but she’s trying. Lips close to your ear, she whispers, “I’ll keep him safe.”

You suck in a breath. You hadn’t known how desperately you needed to hear Nancy’s reassurance, to hear her silent apology. Pulling away from them, you look at Jonathan and Nancy. “I love you. I love you both.”

Jonathan smiles, the same way he did the night you met him on the Wheeler’s porch. Nancy ducks her head down shyly, the same way she did the night she opened the door to let you into her home.

You squeeze their hands one last time before leaving to say goodbye to the others.

Lucas wishes you luck, Will hugs you as tight as ever, and El offers you a partial smile. She’s still recovering from whatever the monster did to her leg, so you brush some hair out of her face and kiss her head.

“Sucks you were down in hell this whole time. Could really go for a brownie right now.” Mike says, a light in his eyes as El’s head rests in his lap.

You stick your tongue out at him. “Sorry, couldn’t find a way to bake while getting chased by Russians with guns.”

“Lame.”

“Goodbye, Wheeler.”

Then you turn to Max, who has been silent this entire time. She hugs you tightly when she sees you. “He’ll be okay, right?”

Your body goes stiff. Somehow, in the midst of Hopper and the others, you had forgotten about Billy. How he’s infected. Flayed. It hasn’t escaped your notice that no one seems to want to bring the matter up, either. When it had been Will, everyone had wanted to make sure he wouldn’t die if the gate closed.

But no one has asked the same question for Billy.

Swallowing, you slowly reciprocate Max’s embrace. “We’ll… We’ll find a way. We always do.”

Though the words aren’t meant to be a lie, you can’t help but feel that you’re breaking an oath when you say them.

–

Steve hadn’t noticed what brand of car the keys belonged to at first. However, the moment his brain recognizes the iconic Cadillac logo on its keychain, he practically starts to drool. A fucking Cadillac.

It doesn’t take him long to round everyone up and drag you outside.

“I was saying goodbye to Joyce,” you grumble, struggling to keep up with Steve’s quick footsteps.

“It’s a Cadillac, Y/N!” Steve can almost feel the foam pooling around his mouth. His footsteps increase even more, his body vibrating at the knowledge that he gets to drive his dream car. His dad hadn’t wanted to buy him one, said that the BMW was more practical. Reliable. When Steve pushes the mall’s front door open and sees the beautiful, timeless car parked perfectly in front of him, he almost collapses. “Oh, man, now this…This is what I’m talkin’ about!”

“‘Toddfather’?” Robin points out the license plate and its horrible name.

You make a face, but Steve doesn’t let her ruin his moment. He’s ecstatic. This is arguably the best thing that has happened to him all day (besides maybe kissing you). For fuck’s sake, it’s a goddamn Cadillac. “Oh, screw Todd! Steve’s her daddy now.”

Steve hops into the car’s front seat like a little kid with a toy car. Meanwhile you, Robin, Dustin, and Erica retract your heads in disgust at what he’s just said. Robin looks at you, repulsed. “Did he just talk about himself in the third person?”

Erica follows up with her own creeped out question. “Did he just call himself daddy?”

“I’m choosing to ignore him right now.” You say to both of the girls, pressing a hand to your forehead as you walk to the car. There’s so much you don’t want to unpack with what Steve has said.

“You can’t ignore me, Y/N.” Steve leans over the center counsel and opens the passenger door for you. “We already established that I’m really annoying.”

“Just take us to Weathertop, please.” You buckle yourself in and make sure the kids have their seatbelts on as well. When you see that Robin has found herself in the middle seat, you snicker at her. She’s squished between Dustin and Erica, her knees are pressed uncomfortably to her chest.

“Why did I get stuck in the middle?” She complains.

Steve fixes one of the mirrors before revving the engine. As he pulls out of the mall’s parking lot, he offhandedly responds, “Passenger seat is reserved for girls I’m dating.”

Everyone in the backseat gags, and you blush furiously. You and Steve haven’t had the time to talk about your relationship. Or if there even is a relationship. But he’s just referred to you as the girl he’s dating. He kissed you yesterday, or was it today?

Time has blurred together, but Steve’s hand rests on your thigh as he drives and you’re his girl.

There will be time to talk about all of it later. You’ll make sure of it this time.

Steve’s foot presses on the gas, speeding through Hawkins. Neither of you were given an exact time frame from Hopper, but he presses down harder on the pedal and sends the car flying. There’s music on the radio, doing its best to distract everyone, but your hands are still antsy. You’re nervous, there’s still so much left unspecified within the plan. Steve notices your fidgeting fingers and removes his hand from your thigh to play with them; he’s trying to soothe you.

You intertwine your fingers through his and smile at him. Steve winks back at you, and you admire how lovely he looks as he drives. The moment is broken when Robin shoves her head between the two of you. “What the hell is a Cerebro?”

“It’s basically a radio tower that Dustin built for his girlfriend, Suzie.” You explain to her, voice raised to be heard over the music and wind. “She lives in Utah.”

Robin raises an eyebrow, intrigued. She leans back in her seat and pokes Dustin’s shoulder. “Suzie must be really special, huh? I mean, if you built this thing and lugged it all the way to the middle of nowhere just to talk to her.”

Your brother preens at this, pleased someone has recognized his romantic efforts. “I mean, nobody’s scientifically perfect, but Suzie’s about as close to being perfect as any human could possibly be.”

“She sounds made up to me.” Erica snarks from the backseat. She looks over at Steve, tries to get his opinion. “She sound made up to you?”

Steve hesitates for just a fraction of a second too long, and you sigh. Dustin notices it, too. “Why are you hesitating, Steve?”

“I–I’m not!” He looks to you for help, but you only shake your head at him. All he had to do was respond promptly. This is his own fault. “I’m not hesitating! I–I think she sounds real. You know, totally, absolutely real.”

“Not really loving your uncertain tone, Steve.” You say, and Dustin nods in agreement. “Suzie is real. I mean, I’m almost positive that she is.”

Dustin does a double take at your use of the word “almost”. He’s about to say something, demand to know why you’re not certain Suzie is real, before he notices that Steve is about to miss the Weathertop turn. “Left, turn left!”

“There’s not a road here?” Steve argues, squinting his eyes in the dark to see whatever the hell the kid is seeing.

Dustin screams at him again to turn, and you only have a second to brace yourself before Steve jerks the wheel. The car’s tires screech on the asphalt as your body gets thrown forward. You scream, getting war flashbacks to when you’d been in the back of Billy’s car as Max had very recklessly driven you and Steve to the tunnels. Somehow, this is so much worse.

The car breaks through a fence and your screaming only intensifies. “What the fuck?”

“Hendersons, where are we going?” Steve screams to you and your brother. He’s desperately trying to keep hold of the steering wheel as the car struggles against the hillside’s grass.

“Up!” You and Dustin exclaim. One hand clutches the door, the other clutches the seat. The entire car is practically at a ninety degree angle as Steve continues to drive up the hill. It’s bumpy, your head hits the back of the seat more times than you would like, and your heart races.

The car makes a concerning amount of strange noises the further up the hill you drive. Robin clutches her stomach. “We’re not going to make it!”

“Yes we are!” Steve does everything he can. His foot never leaves the gas. “C’mon, baby. C’mon!”

“Sweet talking the car won’t help!” You shriek after a particularly rough bump leaves you nauseous. The poor car strains against the giant hill. The tires, not at all made for off-roading, get caught in the grass.

Steve hits the wheel and curses. “C’mon! Please!” He presses harder on the gas, but the car comes to a stop. The tires move uselessly against the slick mud underneath.

Ill and desperately wanting to get out of the car, you unbuckle your seatbelt. “We can walk the rest of the way, Steve.” He gives you a despaired look, pleading with you to let him continue playing with his new car, but you roll your eyes at him. You’re five seconds away from vomiting, he can deal with abandoning the car. “The Toddfather is dead. We can mourn her later.”

Steve groans but turns the car off as everyone gets out, preparing for the walk ahead. The hill is just as steep as it had been earlier this week when you were with the party. While you’re annoyed you have to walk it again, at least this time it’s night and the heat isn’t as suffocating.

When you reach the crest of the hill, Dustin immediately runs to Cerebro. He crouches next to the radio and turns it on. “Bald Eagle, do you copy? Bald Eagle, I repeat, this is Scoops Troop, do you copy?”

Bald Eagle had been your idea.

“Scoops Troop?” You ask your brother.

He nods, proud. “Thought of it myself.”

“Not bad, buddy.”

Murray’s voice crackles over the walkie. “Yes, I copy.”

Everyone lets out a breath of relief when you hear him. So far, the first phase of the plan seems to be working. Cerebro can reach all the way down to the lair; you can communicate with Hopper and Joyce. So far, so good.

Dustin starts to give Murray the directions he’ll need for the vents. You and Steve roam the perimeter of the hill, weary and needing something to do. While you’re far from the Russians below you, you still don’t necessarily feel like you’re out of harm’s reach. Robin stays with the kids, figuring it’s best to give the two of you some time alone.

You stare out into the view of Hawkins from so high above. Weathertop has always been your favorite spot in the small town. Your first summer in Hawkins, Jonathan had introduced you to the hill; you used to spend all your time up here with him. You’d spend hours running up and down the length of it, giggling and sunkissed. If you stand still enough, you can still hear the laughter in the breeze. You miss Jonathan and being kids with him.

“I haven’t been up here in years.” Steve stands next to you, voice soft. He stares out into the field as well, admires its beauty the way you are, though really he just wants the excuse to look at you. “Forgot how peaceful it was.”

“I love it here,” you tell him. “Late in the summer, dandelions appear. They scatter the entire hilltop. I like running through them.”

“Well, when they start to bloom,” Steve wraps his arms around your waist, pulls you back into his chest. He presses a soft kiss to your cheek, lingers. He hasn’t held you in so long, his body aches with the weight of yours against it. “We can run through them together.”

You smile into the embrace, lean into the kiss, tremble into the words. He will always make you weak. It’s an exhilarating feeling, knowing someone can dismantle every bone in your body with less than six words. “I think I’d like that–”

From the corner of your eye, you see lights flickering in the distance. They catch your attention, standing out against the black backdrop of the night sky. You shrug Steve off, feeling a tug in your chest to walk closer to the hill’s edge. You need to figure out what you’re seeing. With every step you take, the more your vision focuses in on the lights, the more dread fills your body.

It’s the mall. The lights are coming from the mall.

You freeze.

The lights are going haywire, flickering wildly. It’s supposed to be deserted. Jonathan and the others were supposed to have left already, but still your stomach sinks. Something isn’t right.

Steve stumbles after you, confused as to why you pulled away, but when he sees the mall as well, he stills. “What the…?”

“They left. They said they would be gone by now.” You try to calm yourself down, try to focus on the reasoning. The mall is empty. It’s supposed to be empty. Jonathan promised you he would make it to Murray’s safely. He wouldn’t lie, he would never lie to you.

Robin, Dustin, and Erica come up behind you and Steve. You all stand there at the crest. No one moves, transfixed by what they see. The lights continue to flicker, miles below, impossibly too far away from help.

Someone has to help.

Your feet move, twisting your body to run back to the radio. You need answers. You need to know what the hell is going on, if everyone is safe, and Dustin is right behind you. He falls to the grass in front of the radio and frantically brings it to his lips. “Griswold Family, this is Scoops Troop. Do you copy? Over!”

He repeats the call over and over, but no one responds. With each passing moment of silence, your panic turns into blind fear. “I repeat, do you copy–” A sudden, horrifyingly familiar screech, one that has haunted your nightmares for years now, rips through the radio’s speaker. It’s loud and gruesome and sends ice into your body. Your brother’s concern rivals your own. “Griswold Family, please confirm your safety. Are you enroute to Bald Eagle’s nest?”

Dustin is screaming into the radio at this point, demanding answers, but there’s only snarling on the other side. Your breathing quickens, the edges of your vision blur. Sweat trickles down your neck. You can’t breathe. Jonathan is still at the mall. Mike and Will. Nancy, Max and Lucas.

El.

The Mind Flayer has them.

Steve tries to grab your hand, but you’re blind to it all. In raw desperation, you tear the radio out of Dustin’s hands and bring it to your own lips. “Jonathan! Nancy! Mike, anyone.”

Your pleads fill the void of a response in the night air. Steve sits next to you, all he can do is watch as your pleading turns into begging. Your voice cracks, the words scratch your throat. Seeing your white-knuckled grip on the radio, Steve can’t take it anymore.

“C’mon,” he takes your hand and pulls you up. Numb with fear, your body is limp. You try to fight him, you don’t know why he’s pulling you away from the radio when your friends need help, but Steve has made up his mind. He takes the device out of your hands and makes you look at him. “They need our help.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!”

“Y/N, look at me.” Steve motions to the car, and finally you understand. “We’re going.”

Relief threatens to make your knees weak. Too wired from the debilitating combination of fear and helplessness, all you can do is nod at Steve and allow him to guide you down the hill. Dustin and Erica see that you’re leaving and try to stop you. “Where are you going?”

“To get them the hell outta there!” Steve calls over his shoulder, fumbling through his pocket to retrieve the keys. “Stay here, contact the others!”

Dustin calls out your name, anxious. He doesn’t want you to leave, and you hate that you have to leave him. But right now, he and Erica are as far from danger as physically possible. Weathertop hill is miles away from Starcourt. Right now, Jonathan needs you, and so do the others. Breaking out of Steve’s grasp, you run back to your brother and kiss his forehead. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

You run back to the car where Steve awaits, and Robin is quick to follow. She runs after the two of you and catches the walkie that Dustin tosses her. “Stay in touch,” he orders the three of you, still entirely against the whole thing.

“We will!” You shout back at him, already crawling into the car. “Stay safe, don’t do anything stupid, and stay here.”

The backdoor closes, Robin’s seatbelt clicks into place, then the Cadillac’s engine roars to life.

–

Your hands won't stop shaking as Steve drives. Nothing he says can reassure you. The car hasn’t gone below seventy miles an hour despite the narrow road, and still it doesn’t feel like it will be enough.

“I’m sure they’re okay.” Steve tries again to sound convincing, like his hands also don’t shake as he grips the steering wheel. “I mean, they have El. She’s a superhero.”

“Total superhero.” Robin unhelpfully chimes in. Her own nervousness is on display as she twists her fingers together.

You draw your knees into your chest, trying desperately to make yourself smaller. You’re terrified for your friends, you should’ve never split up. The party always does better when it’s together. Forcing air into your lungs, you stare out the windshield. “How much farther?”

“A minute, maybe even less.” Steve promises, pressing down even harder on the gas pedal. The engine’s roar deafens your ears, and you welcome the distraction.

In the distance you see Starcourt’s blinding neon lights. They grow bigger and bigger with every passing second, and you release the breath you had been holding when you see that you’re close. The moment of relief is short lived, however, when you hear gunshots pierce through the night. The sound rings in your eyes and the sight of Nancy firing the gun chokes you.

“There!” You point towards where she stands and Steve changes the direction of the car. The tires screech and your body thuds against the door but you don’t care. All you can focus on is Nancy standing in front of Jonathan’s car, unmoving as she fires bullet after bullet. Something seems to be wrong with his car, you can hear the engine fail each time he turns the key.

You squint your eyes. At first, you can’t see what Nancy is firing at, but within seconds you see the third car barreling straight towards her at a terrifying speed. In the driver’s seat is Billy. “Steve!”

“I see him!” He floors it.

The impact knocks all the air out of your body. It all happens so fast. Glass shatters. Metal hits metal. Your body gets thrown, your head roughly hits Steve’s shoulder as the car spins out. Your eyes squeeze shut at the momentum. You can’t remember if you scream.

“Are you guys okay?” Steve asks, panting, as soon as he car comes to a stop. His head is spinning yet the first thing he does is look to see if you’re hurt. There’s some glass in your hair, but for the most part there isn’t a scratch on you, which he’s thankful for.

“Ask me tomorrow?” Robin stares blankly ahead, still trying to process what’s just happened.

It takes a few moments for you to come to. Your ears are ringing. Your neck aches from being thrown so suddenly to the left. “Let’s never do that again.”

“Agreed…” Robin swallows, but quickly her mouth goes dry. “Oh, shit.”

You follow her line of sight and nearly throw up. The Mind Flayer crawls over the mall and releases a thundering screech, and the size of it alone makes you want to cry. It’s huge, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen before.

A car honks behind you, breaking you from your terror. Your head whips around, finding Nancy in the passenger seat of Jonathan’s car. “Get in!”

Quickly the three of you scramble out of the wrecked car. There isn’t room in any of the passenger seats, so you yank the trunk door open and scream at Robin and Steve to crawl in. It’s a tight fit, you have to press your back against Steve’s chest, but it’ll have to do.

As soon as the trunk is closed, Jonathan steps on the gas. You’re thrown further into Steve’s chest and Robin, who sits in front of you, lets out a quiet yelp when she sees the Mind Flayer chasing after the car, not far behind. Seeing this as well, Jonathan takes a rough turn and everyone in the car tries to brace for the rest of the ride.

“Are you okay, bug?” Jonathan shouts over his shoulder, eyes still on the road.

“Fine and dandy,” you pick a piece of glass out of your hair. Steve helps, carefully combing through your hair as well. The Mind Flayer screams, tries to lunge at the car, and your heart skips a beat. You try to distract yourself. “I crash cars every day. How about you guys, what brought y’all out here tonight?”

“Billy.” Everyone in the car says in unison.

You wince. ��It’s always him, isn’t it?”

No one answers. Your quips don’t land. Robin hasn’t looked away from the Mind Flayer yet, Steve doesn’t want to look at it. Jonathan stares at the road ahead of him and Nancy flinches every time the Mind Flayer’s body thuds against the earth. The rest of the kids are silent, the echoes of its footfalls pounding against their eardrums.

It’s grim in the car. Really fucking grim.

“Dusty-bun, you copy?” A girl’s voice comes through over the radio. It’s not a voice you recognize; never in your life have you heard anyone besides your own mother refer to your brother as Dusty-bun.

Steve’s bewildered expression matches your own. Then Dustin’s voice crackles through the radio, and your bewilderment turns into relief. At least your brother is far away from whatever the hell is chasing you right now. “I copy, Suzie-poo. It sounds much better now, thanks.”

“Suzie,” Steve and Robin breathe out at the same time. You smile at them, smug. They had their doubts, but you were almost certain she had been real. Serves them right.

The nickname Dustin has for his girlfriend, however, is awful. “‘Suzie-poo’? That’s the best nickname he could’ve come up with?”

“I like bee, better.” Jonathan agrees.

Steve scoffs. “Honey has a nicer ring to it.”

“Both of you shut up!” You don’t have time for their weird ‘my horse is bigger than yours’ competition. Dustin’s started speaking over the radio again and you’re trying to listen in case it’s important. He’s asking Suzie whether she knows what Planck’s constant is, and you have no idea how any of this is relevant to the situation at hand.

“Okay, so I know it starts with two sixes, and then a…” Dustin’s voice trails off. Apparently this Planck thing is a number, one he can’t seem to remember. “W-What is it?”

“Okay, let me just be clear on this.” The tone of Suzie’s voice makes you pity your brother. It’s an angry tone, annoyed and fed up. Whatever she’s about to say, it won’t be pretty. “I haven’t heard from you in a week, and now you want a mathematical equation that you should know so you can… save the world?”

You whistle, commending the girl’s sense of self worth. “She’s got a point.”

Dustin pleads with her, promising that he’ll make it up to Suzie as soon as he can. You feel a bit bad for him, honestly. He really had been trying to contact her ever since he got home from camp. How was he supposed to know his week would end up being dominated by Russians?

“You can make it up to me now.” Suzie’s voice lowers a frightening octave. You have no idea what she’s about to say, and a large part of you wants to throw the radio out the window before you’re forced to find out.

“What?” Dustin sounds frightened as well, which doesn’t make you feel any better.

“I want to hear it.”

Horror fills you. It’s worse. So much worse than you ever could’ve imagined. You know exactly what Suzie wants from Dustin. “Oh, no… He told her.”

“Told her what?” Steve asks you, confused by this entire ordeal. Dustin and Suzie argue in the background. She’s insistent and your brother tries his best to convince her otherwise.

Jonathan’s eyes meet Steve’s in the rearview mirror, mischief in them. “Theater camp.”

“Jonathan Byers, I will hurt you!” You hiss at him, utterly mortified. Sometimes you despise the fact that he’s your closest friend. He knows far too much about you.

Steve has so many questions, but he forgets all of them when Dustin starts to sing. “Turn around, look at what you see.”

His voice is clear and beautiful, a testament to the countless hours the two of you were forced to endure in vocal lessons. When you were younger and still living in Virginia, your mother made you and your brother attend a musical theater camp every summer. She loved having you guys perform little shows for her around the house. Said your voices were like angels to listen to.

The day you and Dustin moved to Hawkins, you both swore to never tell anyone about the camp. The secret would die with you.

Jonathan only knows about it because your mom had him video tape Christmas carols a few years ago (like the traitor that he is). It had taken several batches of cookies, numerous pleas, and a handful of threats to ensure he wouldn’t tell anyone what he saw.

“In her face, the mirror of your dreams.” Dustin’s melodic voice floats through the car. The song had been one the two of you sang frequently at camp, its verses simple yet fun to sing together.

Steve and Robin share a look of disbelief. They’ve completely forgotten about the Mind Flayer still chasing after the car. Suzie, a surprisingly good singer as well, now joins Dustin. They sing together, in a sweet, childish way. You can’t help but sing along, harmonizing with them.

Everyone in the car looks at you as if you’re insane, but you’re too tired and exhausted to care. You’ve had the weirdest two days of your goddamn life. Sue you for singing along. It’s a good song.

That, or maybe you’re just delirious from dehydration.

After a minute or so, the song comes to a close, and you’re almost saddened by that. You’ve missed singing with your brother. You make a mental note to bug him about it later. “Planck’s constant is 6.62607004.”

Dustin laughs into the radio, happy that Suzie finally revealed the number. “You just saved the world!”

“Gosh, I miss you, Dusty-bun.”

The two continue to go back and forth with their baby talk, which you cringe at. It’s disgusting to overhear, although you guess you understand now why Dustin hates being around you and Steve. You’ll apologize to him later.

Dustin’s voice cuts off unexpectedly, which you assume is Erica’s doing. You’ll also thank her later. The car goes quiet again. No one knows what to follow Dustin’s impromptu performance with.

“So, theater camp, huh?” Steve finally breaks the silence, squeezing you gently in his arms as he teases.

“Tell anyone and I swear I’ll–” The Mind Flayer suddenly turns around, catching your attention. It runs away, back towards the mall. It doesn’t make any sense. Everyone is here, in the car. It only wants El. Unease twists your stomach. You lean forward and look at who is in the car. When you see Will and Lucas in the seat in front of you, you panic. “Where are the others?”

You’re practically crawling over the seat to try and get to Jonathan and Nancy. “Where’s Max and El? Where the hell is Mike?”

Nancy tries to distance herself from your anger. “We got separated, but they’re–they’re fine. We had to guide the Mind Flayer away from the mall–”

“So you left them?”

“We didn’t really have much of a choice, Y/N!” Nancy screams back at you now, insulted that you truly believe she would ever leave her brother behind willingly. She wouldn’t do that. She knows that you know this.

“It’s going back for them! It fucking turned around, can’t you see that? We need to follow it, now!”

“Y/N–”

“Turn. Around.”

“Steve, sit Y/N back down!” Jonathan’s yell cuts in between you and Nancy. You’re about to start spewing curses at him, but Steve’s arms are strong and force you back into his lap. You’re livid. “Hold on!”

Jonathan knows you’re right. He tightens his hold on the steering wheel and stomps on the brakes. The car spins, he twists the wheel, controls it as best as he can, before he steadies the vehicle and accelerates back towards the mall.

–

When you get to the mall, Lucas announces that he has a plan.

“Fireworks have an insane amount of gunpowder in them.” He explains to the group, waving around a handful of fireworks he left in the trunk. You’re all carrying some as you run through the mall’s parking lot. “If we tie them together, we can mimic the damage of dynamite.”

“Think it’ll be enough to kill the Mind Flayer?” Nancy asks, hesitant.

“If we throw them from above, yeah!”

You kiss Lucas’ cheek, only barely managing not to trip over your feet as you run. “I think you’re a genius, Sinclair.”

Inside the mall, everyone quickly sets the fireworks up. Faintly you can hear the Mind Flayer lurking somewhere, its roars echoing throughout the building, but it hasn’t found you guys yet. Lighters get passed around, fireworks get messily taped together, groups are divided in an attempt to cover the most ground. Jonathan with Nancy. Will with Lucas. You and Steve with Robin.

You’re taping together the last of your fireworks when you look down over the railing. You almost drop the fireworks in your hand when you see Billy hovering over El. He’s so much bigger than she is. She’s hardly even visible beneath him. Your stomach churns. “He’s here.”

Thuds shake the ground. The Mind Flayer descends from the rooftop and crawls over to where Billy has placed El. Its mouth opens, preparing for the kill, and Lucas throws the first firework. “Flay this, you ugly piece of shit!”

Bursts of light collide into the monster. It hisses, turns to face the direction the firework was thrown, and Lucas throws another into its mouth.

Smoke begins to fill the air. The whistle of the rockets sting your ears. The light blinds you. It’s loud and messy and fireworks rain down upon the monster. Everyone throws the bundles they have, and yet still you hesitate. Billy’s eyes flash through your mind. How the red in them overtook the icy blue. The sweat that poured from his face. The cruelty that seeped through his skin.

It’s horrible what’s happened to him. He didn’t deserve to become a pawn in this maddening game.

But someone has to end it. You breathe in, relax your body, and bring your lighter to the first firework. Its heat licks at your skin as you release it into the air. You hit the side of its body, sending the Mind Flayer stumbling back.

“Hey, asshole. Over here!” Steve throws a firework and its blasts almost scorches the two of you. It’s dangerous, stray fireworks threaten to crash into everyone, but the plan seems to be working. WIth every hit the Mind Flayer takes, the more he weakens.

Your thumb burns as you light fireworks over and over again. The motion is repetitive, just enough to keep the fear in you at bay. It’s deafening within the mall. It’s exhilarating. It’s dizzying. Reds, blues, yellows, greens all light up the sky.

Distantly, through the haze of smoke, you watch as the fireworks affect Billy as well. He cowers each time the Mind Flayer gets hit, but it also seems to enrage him as well. He grabs El’s wounded leg and drags her closer to the monster.

Helplessly you wish you were down there with El, helping her. However, all you can do is continue throwing fireworks in a crazed attempt to save the ones you love. You scream with every throw, exerting all your strength to throw them as far as you physically can. But you’re quickly running out of ammunition.

“Dustin, we’re out of time!” Steve screams into the walkie, breath heaving with soot on his face.

Your brother screams back, pleading with Hopper to close the gate. No one answers him, and you hold back exhausted sobs as you throw the remaining fireworks. They won’t be enough. Someone has to close the gate, sever any connection the Upside Down has to your world. It’s the only way any of you are making it out alive.

Yet it remains open, and Billy has now crawled back on top of El.

She seems to be saying something to him, but in the cloud of smoke and explosions you can’t be sure. Robin helps you light the last firework, Steve aims it, and you’re numb to it all. He throws it, it explodes into a shower of purple. Its ashes scatter around Billy, singes his back, and you see now that he’s stopped moving.

“That was the last one!” Robin shouts over the screams of the fireworks. Steve runs a hand through hair and curses. There isn’t anything else the three of you can do.

You run to the railing and look around, feverish to find any way to help. Jonathan catches your eye from across the plaza. He looks just as distraught as you are. Your palm hits against the metal of the railing in frustration. There has to be something. Then you see Max and Mike below, standing on the outskirts of where Billy and El are, all alone.

“I’m going down!” You scream to Robin and Steve. You have to get down there. Someone has to be with them. They’re too close to the fire and explosions and monsters.

“Y/N, wait–” Steve tries to stop you, but you plead with him.

“Steve, I need you to trust me.” There’s a raw, overwhelming feeling within you that something bad is about to happen. You can’t shake it, the feeling of loss being inevitable frightens you. For three years now you’ve saved everyone, done everything right. For three years, you’ve gotten lucky. You don’t know how to explain all of this to Steve, the fear that has followed you ever since you first intercepted the Russian code. “Please.”

Maybe it’s the way you say it. Maybe it’s the tears that stream down your face as you look at him. Whatever the reason may be, Steve reluctantly lets go of you. Endlessly thankful for him, your hands cradle his face as you kiss him. He makes a cute, surprised noise, and you wish more than anything that you can bask in the warmth of his lips, but you can’t.

You force yourself to pull away. “I’ll be back, take care of the others.”

And then you’re gone.

Footsteps echoing against the walls of the mall, you run down the stairs and straight towards Max and Mike. They hear you approach and suddenly they’re both in your arms. They hold onto you tightly, none of you can tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you. Billy slowly stands up and away from El. His movements are labored as he walks in front of the Mind Flayer, blocking its path to her.

They stand, face to face, unmoving. Predator against prey. Your heart pounds in your throat as you watch, too scared to move. In an almost imperceptible velocity, the Mind Flayer extends its claws.

Billy raises his arms, stopping the monster from piercing through El, protecting her. “No!” A guttural, animalistic scream tears apart his vocal chords. He screams, over and over again, as the Mind Flayer struggles against him.

Max freezes in your arms, you feel her choke on her gasp.

Everything happens slowly after that.

The first claw that penetrates Billy’s side.

The second one that cuts through his other side.

Then the third one, the fourth and the fifth and the sixth. They pierce through his skin, sink into the flesh. His body goes limp as he’s suspended into the air. The Mind Flayer hisses down at him, its teeth bared, and Billy, who has never been afraid, screams in the face of death as the monster fatally punctures his chest.

Everything stops.

“Billy!” You will never forget the pain in Max’s scream. It will become yet another sound that haunts your nightmares.

As you stand there with a paralyzed Max in your arms, the Mind Flayer drops Billy’s body onto the ground. He lands with a sickening thud. The Mind Flayer’s body crashes into the walls, it convulses, spasms, leaving destruction in its wake. Then, all together, it stills and falls to the ground.

The gate has been closed.

Mike tears himself from your arms and runs over to El. He pulls her into a hug and she begins to sob. You and Max walk numbly over to them, neither of your eyes leave Billy’s bleeding body. He shudders weakly where he lays, a pool of blood encasing his body.

“Billy?” Max knees next to him. She’s crying, she doesn’t know what to do. There’s so much blood. “Billy, get up. Please, Billy. Get up, please.”

You kneel next to her, at her side through it all.

Blood pours from Billy’s mouth. He coughs and the wet sound only makes Max cry harder. He looks up at you, his eyes are finally blue again. “Talking to you… sweetheart.”

But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?

Those had been your last words to him.

“Billy…” He had tried to find you. He had been lost and scared and alone. He didn’t know what had been happening to him, why his anger became venom. A sob is wrenched from your mouth. He had been all alone, and he had tried to find you.

Billy coughs again, more blood leaks from his wounds. With the last of his strength, he turns his head to Max. “I’m sorry…” His chest heaves in pain, he labors two final breaths, before his chest falls entirely. It doesn’t rise again.

Max shakes his shoulders, uncaring for the wounds there. She shakes him, begs and pleads with him to wake up, but his body remains lifeless. She lets out one final, anguished sob. “Billy.”

She buries her face in your chest and sobs. You hold her, El joins. The girl tries to soothe Max, she tries to keep you together, but you break as well.

You cry for the boy Billy had once been. Max had told you stories from before. How he would drive her to the skate park, scare off any older boy who tried to taunt her. She told you about how he used to love surfing in California, before his mom had left them and his dad became violent.

Max told you about how kind Billy had once been, she knows he used to be kind. How she could see it in him still, hiding the bruises from his father to not scare her. To make her feel safe in their own home even if he intimidated her as well; it was the violence in him that was created by a monster far more vile than the Mind Flayer.

You cry for Max, too young to lose such a complicated loved one. You know the pain better than anyone else. How it hurts to grieve them, how it makes you feel pathetic to miss someone who has only hurt you, but the tenderness of knowing them tethers you to it all. Billy had been her brother. There is no greater tether than that.

You cry because you loved and have lost. You will blame yourself for having not said anything about Billy’s off behavior. You had seen the first signs of what the Mind Flayer did to him. He had been stranded on the side of the road, bloodied and bruised, blue eyes darker than normal, and you had done nothing except tell him to come find you.

And then you had left him.

Billy Hargrove died alone.

You and Max will share the burden of this guilt.

–

Jonathan finds you first, then Steve. You’re on the floor, kneeling with Max in your arms, two broken pieces finding solace in the other. Billy’s body lies next to you, neither you nor Max can bear to look at it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they’re the only words you can say to the girl.

Max clutches your arms around her and her tears soak your shirt. El and Steve try to coax her out of your arms, but she doesn’t move. She refuses to let go of you, though she allows Jonathan to drape his arms over you and hold you as your own sobs echo within the mall.

Nancy and the others join. They leave a wide berth around the dead body before them. Nancy sees that you’re in no condition to guide, so she takes over for you. She instructs Steve and Lucas to take Max from your arms so that they can stand the two of you up. The fire from the wreckage is quickly spreading and you’ll need to evacuate soon.

“It’s okay, bug. You’re okay.” Jonathan whispers in your ear, one hand delicate on your arm. Steve’s hands rest upon your other arm, and together the two of them are able to get you onto your feet.

Your body shakes, grief sits heavily upon your chest. Steve’s eyes never leave your weak frame.

It’s all a blur after that.

Firefighters break through the mall and evacuate the building. Nancy and Jonathan do all the talking. Someone, you think it’s Steve, carefully guides you through the maze of burning rubble and bodies. It’s raining outside and the soft thunder almost drowns out the drone of the helicopters that swarm the building.

There are ambulances amongst the military trucks and you’re shoved into one by a concerned medic. The woman explains to you that you’re in shock, that your body is in a state of perpetual flight. She allows Steve to sit and stay with you only after she’s finished patching up his split lip and bruised eye.

“It’s going to take some time to heal,” the medic explains to you. She’s soft spoken, maternal, and in your numb state she reminds you of your mother. “You kids went through a lot tonight.”

Time.

It always goes back to time.

Steve rubs your back and kisses the top of your head every few minutes. You rest your head against his shoulder, body pressed against his, a blanket draped around both of your shoulders’. Neither of you say anything. His hand on your back is warm, it unthaws the ice that the shock has left behind. His touch grounds you, keeps you afloat.

A car pulls up in the distance and its doors slam. Your eyes drift up, finding Joyce’s as she stumbles through the crowd of armed soldiers and firefighters. She stumbles around, lost in some haze that clouds her once shining face. Joyce looks around in concern, trying to find her sons, and somehow you know, even before her face crumbles when she sees you, that something terrible has happened.

Her eyes meet yours.

Hopper isn’t with her.

Will rushes towards his mother and almost knocks her down with how hard he hugs her. Joyce clings onto him and breaks into heartwrenching, bone crushing, sobs. You can hear her from where you sit with Steve, you can feel the weight of her loss like thickened water in your lungs.

In the other ambulance next to you, El, who had been resting in Mike’s lap, stands up when she sees Joyce. She walks towards the woman as she embraces her son. Though El faces away from you, standing alone in the middle of the parking lot, the way her shoulders shake as she begins to fall apart indicates the remnants of her childhood have died tonight.

“Hopper’s dead.” They’re the first words you’ve spoken all night. Your voice is hoarse from disuse and the words echo, taunting you.

Steve doesn’t say anything, only a heavy sigh leaves his body.

There were three deaths tonight. Billy, Hopper, and El’s childhood. One for every year you got lucky. The fear that had been creeping through the back of your mind finally presents itself to you. It manifests in the humid July air and it laughs at you. Saving Will, closing the gate, destroying the Mind Flayer. They were debts needed to be fulfilled, and they were paid for tonight.

You see Max and Robin sitting on a stretcher across from you. Max also hasn’t said anything all night, lost in her own grief and remorse. Joyce still sobs in Will’s arms. El grieves alone, mourning the closest thing she’s ever had to a father.

You see Jonathan and Nancy whispering quietly to one another in another ambulance. They share a blanket like you do with Steve, but Nancy’s eyes are sunken in and Jonathan’s face is pale. Lucas and Mike sit together, too exhausted to say anything.

You’re all bleeding or burned or bruised and you’re tired.

“Sometimes…” Your voice cracks, tears threaten to silence you, and you force yourself to breathe in. Force yourself to focus, to get the words out. They’re important, somehow, even if you don’t know why. “Sometimes it feels like I’ve used up all my luck.”

Steve draws small circles into your ribcage. His fingers catch on the raised skin, the scar from when you saved his life last year. “Luck?”

“When Will went missing… It was pure luck that I found him. Brought him back home.” You weren’t supposed to have been with the kids when they found El. You were lucky that night, it was luck that threw you into the middle of it all. “It was luck that saved Will last year, too. Those tunnels…” Your body shivers at the memory. It had been so cold down there, the smell of the damp earth is a scent you will never forget. “And now I–”

Your words catch in your throat. Steve’s body presses against yours, he waits for you, patient. When your voice returns, you try again. “And now I… I’m not sure how I feel.”

“Why’s that, angel?” Steve listens, he tries to understand. “I mean, the Mind Flayer is gone. We won.”

You saved Hawkins. You saved El. You know this, and it should be enough, but it isn’t. “All the deaths that took place tonight stain everything.”

El’s father is dead. Joyce had come so close to loving again. Max no longer has someone to call a brother. Billy, who endured so much hurt when he was a child, never got the chance to experience kindness when he grew up.

Billy never got the chance to become good, not like you did. You were lucky to have even become kind again in the first place. It had taken years to turn the hurt from your childhood into empathy. You had a mother who called you her sweet girl even when you screamed horrible insults at her. You had a brother who held your hand through the anger that your father left behind. You had a best friend who taught you that not everyone leaves. There had been people who loved you, who were gentle, who showed you that anger can be turned into something soft.

But all Billy ever knew in his life was violence and cruelty. It isn’t fair.

“My entire life I’ve been lucky,” your chest constricts as you confess everything to Steve. All your fear, the doubt, the insecurity. “Now it–it feels like I’ve used up all my luck.” Your fingers find Steve’s, a mind of their own as your body seeks the solace only he can bring. He doesn’t know that he’s the reason you believe you’ve had more luck than anyone else in their life. “I… I was lucky to have met you, to become your friend, someone you trust. How could I possibly have any luck left over after everything we’ve been through together?”

Everything burns in Steve. He understands what you’re trying to say, he does, but he doesn’t agree. Steve hooks the pad of his fingertip underneath your chin and coaxes your head up, he wants you to look at him as he speaks. He needs you to hear him. To understand. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

You wipe your eyes, uncomfortable under Steve’s open and earnest gaze. “I’m wrong?”

He hums, strokes a finger from the dip of your cheek up to the crest of your brow. He admires you, memorizes the skin beneath his. “You’ve taught me a lot of things, but you’re wrong about that luck theory of yours. See, I have my own theory that you can never run out of luck if you love, and you taught me that to love and be loved is the luckiest thing a person can give and receive.”

Steve remembers the first day he ever saw you. He’d been thirteen, you had been twelve. He remembers how small you looked to him, yet lovely nonetheless, even back then. You had always been so lovely to Steve, kind, delicate, admirable.

Your eyes stare into Steve’s and he remembers the first day he spoke to you. The squeal of your bike tires as you almost crashed into his car. The way the setting sun cast you in a golden glow in the ditch you landed in as Steve offered you his hand. How, the moment you laughed at what he said, he felt breathless.

You smile at Steve now, the same smile all those years ago, the smile he saw when he was thirteen and believed in knights and dragons. Now, at eighteen, you smile at Steve and he believes in fates that attach people to one another and mold them into one being.

“And I’m lucky enough to be able to love you, angel.”

Steve’s words cut through you. They’re the good that remind you of the light of the sun that follows the dark of the night. It’s almost like an awakening, a slow remembering, how can someone run out of luck if they love with everything within them?

You see Mike now consoling El. She’s in pain, but Mike bears the hurt with her. You see Jonathan and Nancy sleep soundly against each other, safe in the other’s arms. Lucas holds Max’s hand as Robin cracks a joke that gets the young girl to laugh. Will strokes his fingers through his mother’s hair, offering her love that only a son can.

Even while there is so much grief and pain within this world, the love that follows overwhelms it.

Steve stares down at you, eyes soft with contentedness. There isn’t a pressure behind them, he doesn’t need you to say anything to him. He’s simply happy to have you in his arms, to have you with him now, to remind him of how lucky he is, and you’re so full of love for him.

“I’m lucky enough to be able to love you, too, sweet honey.”

Steve Harrington smiles the boyish smile that you fell for long before you knew what love even was, and he kisses you. He breathes you in, he has you right where he wants you.

You finally, finally, have come home.

–

Time passes slowly afterwards; you take it one day at a time.

After the mall burns down, your job is practically all but saved. It’s a small, bittersweet thing. Mrs. Waters had told you the news with her own bittersweet smile, mourning her dear friend Mrs. Driscoll who died in the fire. She will never know the truth, that the woman had become part of an army created by a monster.

“But at least Doris would be happy that I still have my store,” the woman said as she stacked books with you at the counter. It had only taken you two days before finding yourself falling back into old habits. Your mother had wanted you to stay home for the rest of the summer, but Bookstrordinary has always been a second home to you, and you couldn’t bear the silence in the house. Mrs. Waters sighed sadly, looking down. “I miss her.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Waters.” You squeezed her hand, mourned with her.

Hopper’s funeral took place a week after Starcourt burned down. The entire town showed up, something that you know the old man would’ve hated, and he was crowned Hawkins’ hero. You spent the ceremony in the very back, holding El’s hand, so that the two of you wouldn’t be seen.

Billy’s funeral was a few days after Hopper’s. Max sat alone at the front of the church, Billy’s father had been too drunk to attend and her mother couldn’t get the time off of work. After the ceremony, the girl silently followed you into your car and spent the rest of the day at Bookstrordinary with you. She hadn’t wanted to go home to an empty house, and you understood the feeling.

Max spends most of her summer with you at the store after that. Some days she helps restock the shelves, singing along to your set of tapes, bright and cheery. But some days she’s quiet, sits in a corner and pretends to read whatever you hand her. El stops by the store sometimes, too. You read comics to her, bake her the oatmeal raisin cookies she loves so much, and gossip about Mike and Lucas if Max is having one of her good days.

During the first week you bake Joyce’s favorite muffins, the second week you bake her brownies. You offer her a shoulder to cry on every time you stop by the Byers home, you reminisce over Hopper and his disdain for you; she appreciates everything you do.

Steve spends every single day with you, it doesn’t matter where you are. Without a job, he follows you everywhere. Whether you’re at work, at home, even at Jonathan’s or Nancy’s, he’s always able to find you with Robin right behind him. Nancy thinks the newfound trio is bizarre, but Jonathan can’t help but laugh whenever he sees Robin talking your ear off while Steve follows you around like a moth to a flame.

Together, you all try to heal.

Two weeks pass and you’re woken up by the ringing of your phone.

“Hello?” Annoyance seeps through your greeting. You’ve only just managed to fall asleep, the nightmares at bay for once.

“Come outside, angel.”

His voice wakes you up, the annoyance now replaced with confusion. “Steve?”

“Wear something warm, okay?”

“What–?” He hangs up, the line disconnects, and you’re completely taken aback by the phone call. You didn’t make any plans with Steve tonight, at least not any that you can recall. He had spent the day with you at work, ate dinner with you and your family, before watching a movie with Dustin and going home.

You’re not entirely sure why he’s called you at nearly two in the morning to come outside, but you listen anyways. On your desk chair lays the cardigan Steve bought you for Christmas, his initials stitched into the sleeve. Sliding it over your shoulders, you quickly put it on before climbing through your window.

Steve’s car is parked two houses from yours, headlights off. There’s music faintly playing that can be heard through the window, and a familiar melody has you running to get inside. “The Beatles?”

They were the band that you and your dad used to listen to. His fingers would strum their songs on his guitar as the two of you sat side by side on the front porch of your childhood home. He would hum the words to you. Told you that you should know about real music.

When your dad left, he took the music with him.

Jonathan had tried to get you into his favorite artists. The Smiths, David Bowie, the Clash. He would sit you down in his room and play their songs over his record player and watch your reactions. While the music was good, and you’ve come to love them because the artists reminded you of Jonathan, it was never the same as listening to the Beatles with your dad during early July mornings.

Then one night, when you and Steve had been driving around Hawkins, a Beatles song began to play over the radio. Unknowing of your history with the band, Steve started to hum along the same way your dad would do, and it was finally then that music was brought back into your life.

“What, I don’t get a hello?” Steve is smiling ear to ear, seeing the flushed joy on your face and the cardigan you wear.

You throw your body over the center console and hug him. “Hi, honey.”

As he drives, Steve is unusually quiet. His initial smug greeting upon your arrival is quickly overshadowed by a shy demeanor. Steve’s fingers fidget on the steering wheel, his foot taps against the car’s floor. The Beatles play softly within the car and somewhere along the route you find that the wooded scenery starts to look familiar.

He’s driving you to Lover’s Lake.

“Why are we heading towards the lake?” You ask Steve, but he pretends not to hear you. Instead, he turns the radio up and sings along to Paul McCartney. Your eyes wander to the backseat and notice a small box nestled against the leather.

A few minutes later Steve parks the car and wordlessly the two of you get out. It’s dark, the moon reflects off the lake’s water. Crickets sing in the air and the waves lap at the shore. It’s a beautiful night, the July heat is masked by the night’s breeze; your cardigan keeps you warm.

Lost in admiring the view, you don’t notice that Steve has left your side until he returns with a picnic basket. The box you saw earlier is tucked underneath his arm. You tilt your head at him, quizzically. “What are you planning, Harrington?”

Steve grabs your hand. “You’ll see.”

He leads you down to the lake’s edge where the water meets the sand. There’s a trail that Steve once found when he was nine. It had been during the last fishing trip he had ever taken with his dad. The man commanded him to hook the worm and Steve cried. Embarrassed and ashamed, Steve had run towards where the sand met the woods and found a meadow hidden within it.

There are flowers in full bloom within the meadow, and you gasp when you see their vibrant pinks and blues. The flowers are delicate yet their stems are long. Steve sets the picnic basket down and pulls a blanket out from it. He sets it onto the grass and lays down, motioning you to join him.

The stars are clear tonight, shining bright above the two of you. They almost seem to wink at you as you lay side by side with Steve. His hand is in yours, as it always is these days, and with only the stars as his witness, Steve whispers into your ear, “Thank you for staying.”

His breath warms your neck, and you know, without having to ask, what he’s thanking you for. Your promise to him last year, that you’d wait for him. He hadn’t been ready. The timing of it all wouldn’t have been right, but you knew, even back then, that you’d wait forever for Steve Harrington if it meant you’d receive even half of his love.

Take your time, I’ll be here.

“It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” The words come easily to you, raw with truth and vulnerability.

A soft sigh escapes Steve. He turns his head to you, eyes finding yours, and you’ve never seen such tenderness within him. He opens his mouth, sighs out the words you’ve longed to hear again since that night at Starcourt. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You don’t think you’ll ever tire of saying those three words to him. There’s so much love within you, so much you’ve ached to give out ever since you were a little girl, and now you finally can.

Steve kisses you with a softness that releases a sigh from your own lips, and you know he’s wholly, truly, yours now. With a swift motion, Steve places himself on top of you as you kiss. His weight presses down on you, one hand cups your cheek and the other steadies him. His hair tickles your face, his cologne clouds your brain, and the sweet taste of July honey coats your tongue.

Minutes, maybe even hours, pass as you kiss Steve. It’s lazy, no sense of urgency as your lips move against his. It’s warm, it’s soft. Eventually he manages to pull himself away from you, he’s brought you here for other reasons tonight.

“Hold on, I got you something.” Steve fixes his hair, clears his throat, and pulls out a container from the basket. He reveals a freshly baked loaf of banana bread on a beautiful glass plate. There’s a small, lopsided candle on top of it.

“You came prepared tonight,” you tease him, still breathless from the kisses and love.

“My mom did, actually. She’s the one who made this.” You sit up and look at Steve, wide eyed. He laughs at you, finding your stunned reaction endearing. “Relax, angel. She really wanted to bake you something, and I had to make up for allowing Russians to ruin your seventeenth birthday, didn’t I?”

Words escape you. Steve’s mom made you banana bread, a woman you have still yet to meet, though you’ve only heard fond stories about. She had insisted on doing this kind thing for you.

Steve lights the candle and holds the plate up for you. “C’mon, make a wish, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, smiling, and the wish comes easily to you.

For time to stay like this, forever.

You blow the candle out, Steve cuts the banana bread, and you take turns feeding it to one another. The dessert is delicious, freshly baked and still warm. It’s sweet and nostalgic and everything you could ever ask for.

When you’ve finished eating, Steve claps his hands. “Alright, now onto the real event of the night!”

You raise an eyebrow. “What, the kissing wasn’t enough?” Steve makes a panicked noise and you laugh at him. “I was teasing, honey.”

“You terrify me,” he huffs, before revealing a box from behind him, the very same one you’ve been curious about all night.

“I aspire to be terrifying,” you stick your tongue out at Steve before turning the box over in your hands. It’s light, lighter than you expected. “Is this my gift you’ve been bragging about?” For months leading up to your birthday, Steve had been boasting about this amazing gift he had thought of, how he had convinced the party to help him.

“Open it and find out.” There’s a glint in Steve’s eyes, yet you also see the shyness return as well. He’s nervous to see your reaction, he wants more than anything to have gotten this right.

You roll your eyes at him but open the box. It isn’t wrapped like your other gifts from Steve have been. Instead the box is made of a dark oak, and its lid opens with a soft click. The silver catches your attention first. It’s a small chain with two silver ovals on opposite sides. In between the two ovals is a collection of charms.

“Is this…?” The charms are all roughly the same size, but each vastly different from the other.

Steve nods at you, rubs the back of his neck. “It’s a charm bracelet.”

Moonlight reflects off of one of the charms, revealing it to be a frog, another one to be a cookie, and slowly you piece it together. There’s six charms, one for each member of the party. “Steve.”

“Have you figured it out–oomph!” He lands with a thud on his back as you attack him with a hug. Slightly out of breath, he laughs and wraps his arms around you. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“How did you get the kids to do this?” You lay on top of him, blinking back tears as you hold the bracelet delicately in your hands to admire it.

Steve sighs in exasperation. “Money and a lot of begging. They were all for picking out charms for you, I just had to pay them to spend more than five minutes with me at the jewelry store.”

You laugh, that sounds exactly like them, and you love those kids with everything within you. Holding up the frog pendant, you know which kid picked it out for you. “Mike?”

“Yup. Said something about Kermit the frog?”

“He’s such a little shit,” you say with fondness. Last year, when Billy had nearly choked you to death, your voice had been lost and Mike wouldn’t stop referring to you as Kermit. Your fingers skim over the pendant next to it, a simple blue one, and you smile. “Dustin?”

“He told me about your code blues.” Steve rubs your back, content to have you resting against him. You hum, touched that your brother trusted Steve enough to confide this to. No one else knows about your code blues, it’d been a special thing just between the two of you.

With your ear pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, Steve explains the rest of the charms to you. His voice is lazy, slow, lilting with fondness, and his hand a firm weight against your back. Max chose a knife charm to remind you of how badass you are. Will chose a bee, because he’ll always be your little bee. Lucas was able to find a small, white flower that resembles a dogwood, knowing that it’s your favorite. As for El, she chose a cookie based solely on her love for the ones you bake for her.

“What about the ovals?” You ask Steve after he’s done explaining what the kids chose for you. The ovals are slightly larger than the charms, almost serving as a divider between them. The metal is smooth underneath your fingers.

He brushes hair out of your face and winks. “Turn them over.”

With slight confusion, you do, and discover that they’re engraved. Etched onto the back of one oval is honey, and, on the other, angel is written. They’re your names for one another, nestled between charms from the kids you love so dearly in your life; this is a gift made from pure, unadulterated love.

“Oh my god,” it’s perfect, absolutely perfect. Your lips are all over Steve’s face before he even has time to blink. You scatter millions of kisses upon his face, drown him in them, With every kiss that you press upon his pretty skin, you shower him with praise. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Steve laughs and tries to move his face away, but really he leans into the onslaught of love. His cheeks burn from smiling so hard and from the heat you always make him feel. He grabs your waist and enjoys the skin he holds. “You like it?”

“I love it, Steve!”

“Does this make up for the whole Russian fiasco?” He asks, only joking a little bit. He still feels awful for dragging you into everything, but with time he’s learning to forgive himself. Before he overthinks it, Steve adds, “Am I now the best boyfriend in the world?”

His words make you blush, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to Steve being yours. You’ve waited so long to be his, to hold him and kiss him like you do now. You cherish the feeling, the sensation of knowing a boy loves you the way that Steve does. “You’ve definitely redeemed yourself for getting me trapped in a Russian lair on my birthday. And you’re definitely the best boyfriend in the world.”

Steve, despite being underneath you, does a victory dance and whoops into the night. He’s elated, his face shines when you look down at him, and you’ve never been so in love before. You once thought you knew what love was, what the burn of it could feel like. But now, with Steve lying beneath you as his arms keep you from falling, you know that love is airless, light, cool to the touch and warm on the skin. Love isn’t supposed to hurt, it’s supposed to feel like coming home after a long day of being out in the cold.

After Steve helps you put on the charm bracelet, you lay together in the meadow. The lake’s waves can be heard in the distance. Crickets chirp their greeting, the stars wink hello above you. Their noises serve as a lullaby to you, soothing you to an almost sleep-like state. You nestle your head into the crook of Steve’s neck and let out a sleepy exhale.

Feeling this, Steve strokes the back of your hair. “You fallin’ asleep on me, Henderson?”

“I’m resting my eyes.”

“Very convincing,” he chuckles, tightening his embrace to try and stave off the cold that creeps in. He lets out his own tired sigh, your weight upon him has always put him at ease. He inhales, smells your perfume, and he can’t believe that he’s here right now with you. After everything he’s been through, he can’t believe that somehow he’s come out of it with you next to him. Last year he thought he had lost you forever. This year he can see forever with you. “I think I like this July a whole lot better than the last one.”

It’s meant to be a joke, a gentle tease. More of a reflection of how far the two of you have come in such a short amount of time, but still Steve’s words remind you of something. You’ve never told him the real reason why you left last summer. Why you ran away from him.

“I was scared, last summer.”

Steve tilts his head at you. “Scared of what?”

“I was scared of falling in love with you,” the confession lifts from your chest. It hangs over you both, the weight of it tangible. Steve’s eyes soften, he lets out a soft oh, and you duck your head shyly. “Last July, you were… Everything. You were everything to me, and it terrified me. I was still figuring my feelings out for Jonathan back then, you had Nancy, but you were so lovely and I just–I couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t have been fair, not to anyone, but I’m sorry.”

“Y/N…” Steve hadn’t known. All this time, he thought he had done something wrong. But really you had been trying to protect yourself, protect him, and he understands now why you had to leave him for a while. He sees the distress on your face and he shushes you, kisses your forehead. “Don’t apologize, okay? I honestly would’ve run away too, if I were you. I’m just… You came back to me, in the end. That’s all I care about.”

He’s too good for you. “I still hurt you.”

“You’re human,” Steve brushes more hair out of your face. “We all make mistakes. You ditched me for a few months and I almost got you killed by crazy Russians. I think we’re pretty even now.”

Despite the guilt in your throat, Steve manages to draw a smile from you. It’s what he’s always done best. Even on the day Will had gone missing, he had been the one to ease the loss by pretending not to have known your name. He had made you laugh when you thought you could never laugh again. Steve would do anything to get you to smile, and you cannot imagine where you’d be without him. “We always even our debts, huh?”

“It’s tradition at this point.”

And you laugh, full-bellied and loud and recklessly. It echoes into the night, Steve’s reverberates into your ears, and you’re happy.

–

A month passes, and in the mid-August heat, Jonathan knocks on your window late one night.

His knuckles rap against the glass and it’s a sound reminiscent of before, when you were little kids who didn’t know how yet to hurt each other. You crawl out of your bed, curious, though happy nonetheless to let him in.

You go to open your curtain, ready to tell the boy all about what Dustin had done today, unaware that when you open the curtain, everything will change.

Jonathan is crying.

“Bee, oh my God.” You quickly open the window and he manages to crawl through, though sobs wrack his body. He’s shaking, and for a terrifying moment you think that something has happened to Will. “Is everything okay?”

He stands before you, chest heaving and eyes red, and with two words your world comes crashing down. “We’re moving.”

Time stands still. You’re seventeen and your childhood is coming to a close.

Somehow you’re holding onto Jonathan as he explains everything through his tears. He’s moving in early September, going all the way to California. He and his family are leaving Hawkins, leaving you.

Your legs give out, or maybe it’s Jonathan’s, but you hold each other on the floor, intertwined, mourning the loss of growing up together. Your tears mix with his, his breathing becomes yours. The two of you cling onto each other, scared that one day soon you’ll never be able to do this again.

“We need to–” Your breathing is shaky, your eyes sting. You feel a desperate franticness claw out of you, you grasp at what little sanity you have left. “We need to promise each other that–that we’ll see each other every day before you leave, in some capacity. It–it doesn’t matter how but–”

“I’ve already talked to Nancy about it, bug.” Jonathan wipes your tears, lets his own fall freely. He knew you’d say this, and he loves you all the more for it. “It’s been agreed.”

You nod, relieved. It isn’t much, it still doesn’t change the fact that Jonathan will leave you in the end, but at least you’ll make every last second with him count. You’ll move into the Byers home if you have to, they’re your family. He’s your person. He’s embedded into your skin, he’s nestled between your bones.

Last year you and Jonathan promised you would never let go of each other.

The year prior to that you promised each other that nothing would change between you two.

Now, holding onto each other as the world you’ve been building together for five years comes crumbling down, you have to believe that the promises will be enough.

–

Steve and Robin rope you into helping them find a new job.

You innocently pointed out that Family Video was hiring, figuring it was an easy enough place to work at, and suddenly the two of them had shoved you into Steve’s car with resumes in their hands. Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming.

“You put your mom down as a reference?” Robin questions Steve as you all get out of the car. She had agreed to proofread it after you politely declined, stating that if you proofread anything Steve wrote, it might ruin your relationship.

“Yeah, why not?” Steve slams his door, straightens his shirt, and grabs your hand as you walk inside. “She’s like, super well respected.”

You share a look with Robin. “Rich kids,” you both groan at the same time. As much as you love Steve, you’ll neve quite get over how well connected he is. It’s bizarre and slightly terrifying how much the Harrington name can get you in this town.

“Whatever, call me a rich kid, but it’s my car you guys get free rides in.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “You’re such a dingus.”

“I didn’t ask to be here,” you remind Steve, though you thank him when he holds the store’s door open for you and Robin. “I think this could count as kidnapping.”

Robin bumps her hips against yours. “Not technically. Besides, I thought we agreed to leave our kidnapping days behind us after Erica?”

You shove the teen and follow her into the store. You look around at all the movies, slightly impressed. You’ve never really visited Family Video before, only really stopping by if you were picking up Dustin from the arcade next door. The store is nice, albeit small, but you can see Steve and Robin enjoying themselves. There’s good music, few customers, and the uniformed vest is less mortifying than Scoop’s small shorts and sailor hats. “It’s not so bad in here.”

“Why thank you, pretty lady.” A greasy looking man at the register smiles at you, leaning over it in a very unappealing manner. His name tag informs you that his name is Keith.

Steve immediately steps in front of you and stares the guy down. “She doesn’t need you thanking her, buddy.”

You can tell that he wants to say more, but you see the “general manager” on Keith’s name tag and quickly try to deescalate the situation. If your idiot boyfriend wants the job, he can’t piss off the guy hiring. “Steve, why don’t we take a look around while Robin does all the talking?”

“What–” He doesn’t have a chance to argue, you’re already pulling him down a random aisle, throwing a quick “good luck!” to Robin as you leave.

She talks with Keith, and it seems to be going well. She shows him their resumes, smiles at him kindly. before she shouts across the store to Steve. “Dingus, what are your three favorite movies?”

Steve nearly drops the movie he had been looking at. “Uh, Animal House?” You can practically hear Robin’s disappointed sigh from where you stand, and Keith looks unimpressed. Panicked, Steve whispers to you, “What are my favorite movies?”

“I don’t know!” You hiss, frantically trying to get this poor man a job. “Just, name two other movies. Animal House can’t be too bad, right?”

“Star Wars,” Steve manages to get out, now walking back to the register. You stand next to him, looking nervously at Robin, who makes a pained noise at his responses.

The manager stares blankly at him. “A New Hope?”

“A new what now?”

You drop your head into your hands and sigh. He’s hopeless. Already knowing it’s a lost cause, you mumble to him, “It’s a Star Wars movie, Steve.”

He snaps his fingers. “Right! Yeah, it’s the one with the teddy bears, isn’t it?” Steve makes what you think is supposed to be an Ewok sound, which only makes you sigh again. Sensing he’s fucked up, Steve tries to backtrack. “No? Uh… Oh! The one that just came out, the movie. The one with DeLorean and Alex P. Keaton and he’s trying to bang his mom.”

“Oh, dear.” It’s a trainwreck, one you can’t look away from, and Robin can only shake her head at you. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking.”

“Uh, yeah.” Steve clears his throat, he knows he’s rambling. Had he known he would have a goddamn pop quiz about movies, he wouldn’t have dragged you here for the interview. “Those are my top three. Classics.”

Keith looks between you, Steve, and Robin. He points to Robin first, “You start Monday.” He points to Steve, “You start never.” And then he points to you, “You can start whenever.”

“Okay, I get why you’re telling me no,” Steve waves a hand in front of you, “but she didn’t even apply!”

You’re also confused by how this day is turning out, and you look at Robin, wide eyed and pleading. She’s good with people, Keith seems to like her. When she sees you silently begging her to fix this, Robin sighs and steps in front of Steve. “Will you just, um… Will you guys give us a minute?”

“Why?” Steve doesn’t move, and you want to throw a shoe at him.

“Let’s go, pretty boy.” You grab the back of his shirt and yank him back to the aisle of movies. He doesn’t fight you, he simply accepts his fate and allows you to drag him away. Before turning the corner, you nod at Keith. “Thanks for the job offer, but you should really give it to the guy I’m currently dragging.”

Robin snickers at Steve’s offended huff as the two of you leave, before she starts trying to convince the manager to let Steve work there. From where you stand, it seems like a heated discussion. You try to lean closer, nosey, and while you’re distracted, Steve runs into a life-sized cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates wearing a red bikini.

You flick his forehead, though you laugh as well. “In your dreams.”

“I can sleep right now and find out–”

“I will flick you again.”

“A kiss is preferred, but whatever.”

–

When the Byers move, you spend the entire day fighting back tears as you help them pack.

You spent the night in Jonathan’s room, both of you dreading the morning to come. Neither of you had slept, instead spending the entire night taking turns sharing your favorite memories together. The day you met. The time a dog chased you. When Jonathan mistook your sweater for his and wore it to school. Late night drives. Movie nights with your brothers. You relive it all that night.

As the morning sunlight began to stream into Jonathan’s room, the warmth the memories brought started to fade away. Slowly, as the sun rose, you and Jonathan packed his room. You helped him organize his vinyls, sort through his mixtapes. When he isn’t looking, you steal a few t-shirts and flannels from his closet. He won’t notice they’re gone until he’s halfway to California.

When it gets too much, seeing all of Jonathan’s life dwindling down to only a few boxes, you wander into the living room and help Joyce pack as well. She sees the tears in your eyes and gives you things to do, but eventually you can’t take it anymore. You go into Will’s room, and it’s the same. You cry, he cries with you, and it’s bittersweet. The rooms empty, the boxes grow.

El’s room is the hardest to pack, she has so few items to call her own, and you’re both silent as you move through the room together.

With each box that you tape full of things you grew up with, you feel a piece of your childhood being packed away as well. The plates you used to eat off of, the books you used to bring from your job, the toys you passed down to Will. It’s all there, pieces of you frozen in time.

As you tape a box labeled “games” in Jonathan’s messy handwriting, you hear Max and Lucas singing in the living room. The sound makes you smile. It’s one of Max’s better days, she’s teasing Dustin for singing with Suzie, and she’s in a good mood. The rest of the party keeps her occupied. The kids all arrived as early as Joyce allowed them to, Nancy and Mike were the first to knock on the door.

You place the box next to the others and walk towards Jonathan’s room. He’s leaning against its door frame with Nancy beside him, and you join them. You stare at the empty room, the one you’ve called your second home ever since you were twelve. It hurts, seeing it stripped of everything.

All of Jonathan’s boxes are in the living room, filled with the things that make him who he is. There’s a drawer in your room of things Jonathan has left over the years, and you’re never giving them back. They’re all you have left of him.

You and Jonathan take in his barren room, and you sigh against the door frame. “It’s so… empty.”

Nancy crosses her arms. “Is that everything?”

“I guess so,” Jonathan stuffs his hands in his pockets. His room feels cold somehow, its emptiness devoids it of the warmth it once had. He can still hear your laughs echoing in the floorboards, he can still smell your perfume that clings onto the walls. There’s scuff on the closet door from the time the two of you thought it’d be a good idea to play blind-folded baseball in the small room.

Jonathan steps into his room, taking it all one last time. The sunlight from his window illuminates his silhouette, making him appear even smaller within the room. “Seventeen years of my life… packed up in one day.”

His voice is melancholic, his body is sad. You nudge Nancy, nod your head in Jonathan’s direction, urging her to go after him. She nods, understands that you’re telling her to say goodbye, giving them the space to do so. She smiles at you appreciatively.

You do it because they love each other, but selfishly a part of you leaves because you can’t say goodbye just yet.

“Thank you,” she whispers, following after Jonathan.

You find El as she’s leaving Joyce’s room. She’s holding a piece of paper, clutched closely to her chest. There are tears in her eyes, though you know better than to ask why. It’s a sad day for everyone, you’ll let her grieve on her own. However, that doesn’t stop you from pulling the girl into a fierce hug.

“I’ll miss you so much, sweetheart.” You mumble, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t know who’s going to paint my nails now.”

El laughs through her tears and holds you tight. “I can ask Mike to.”

You kiss her head again, close your eyes, and pray to whoever is above that this girl will stay who she is forever. That she will never change. Her kindness is genuine, her joy is admirable. All her life she only knew cruelty, and yet she still came out of it so full of love. “I’d love to hear how that goes.”

“I will write you,” El promises, and you nod eagerly at her. She pulls you in for one last hug before finally releasing you to go see Joyce.

The woman greets you with a tired smile when you walk into her room. She’s kneeling on the floor, folding clothes. They’re baggier than what she normally wears, darker, and you finally realize that they’re Hopper’s.

A lump forms in your throat. She shouldn’t be doing this alone, packing away the remnants of his life. “Here, let me help.”

Joyce accepts, and together you sit in comfortable silence as you go through the clothes Hopper left behind. They still smell like him, old cigarettes and whiskey. It’s a nostalgic scene, a part of you wishes you could keep one of his shirts. He had been dear to you, regardless of the constant bickering you faced with him.

“I don’t blame you, you know.” Joyce speaks softly next to you, catching your attention. “At all.”

You look up at her, sucking in a breath. “I don’t… I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Byers.”

“The guilt, honey.” She places a hand on your arm, gentle as she always is with you. “I know you blame yourself for what happened to Will, but you shouldn’t. You have to let go of it. I want…” Joyce pauses, looks into your eyes the way a mother does to her daughter. “I want you to promise me that you’ll live the life that you deserve, because you’ve spent half of your life making sure my boys lived the lives that they deserved. Can you do that for me?”

“I…” You’re crying, you don’t know what to say. For years you’ve carried the guilt of Will’s disappearance, and for even longer you’ve done everything you could to ensure that he was loved. That Jonathan was loved. Never once had it felt like a burden to you, but Joyce’s words undoes something in you. “I promise.”

Joyce pulls you into her arms and hugs you, tears in her own eyes. She strokes your hair, hugs you as she’s always done since you were a little girl. She echoes the final words that Hopper told you. “You’re the best of them.”

You’re not sure how long you cry in Joyce’s arms, but when she soothes you and wipes your tears away, she tells you to go find Will. They’re leaving soon, he’ll want to see you, and you wish the woman one final goodbye before going to find her son.

Will ends up being in the hallway, you find him just after he’s said goodbye to Mike. You note the longing in his eyes, the uncertainty in his posture as his friend leaves. There’s a wistful look on his face, one that you once had on your own when Jonathan was around. Even if Will may not know yet, you do.

“Hey, little bee.”

He turns around, the softness in his eyes when he sees you makes you homesick. “Y/N!”

Will buries his face in your chest, and you hug him just as tightly back. He’s grown so much since you first met him. He’s no longer the shy little boy who had been afraid of his own shadow, and you can’t believe you won’t get to finish watching him grow up. “I swear, you’re going to be taller than me next time I see you. Won’t be able to call you little bee anymore.”

“I’ll always be your little bee,” Will squeezes you tighter, afraid to let go of you.

“Good,” you ruffle his hair, making him to laugh. “I’ll miss you, but I’m sure you already know that.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” Will’s voice is wet, more tears come. He pulls away from you, he looks as if he wants to say something, but he stops himself. As if he’s afraid of something.

You frown. “Hey, what is it?”

“I’m scared,” The words rush from his mouth. “What if… What if I don’t make any friends?” He lowers his voice, looks around nervously, before trusting to say the words out loud to you. “I–I’m different, Y/N.”

Will’s fear hurts you to see, you wish you could do more, promise him that it will all be okay, but you can’t. Instead, all you can do is kiss his cheek and hope he can feel all the love you have for him within it. All you can do is remind him that you will love him through it all. “You’re the bravest kid I know. I have no doubt that you’ll be fine. I mean, you’ll have Jonathan and El with you, but if you ever need me, I’m just a phone call away. I love you, and that will never change.”

You stroke the boy’s cheek with your finger, and he leans into the gentle touch. “I’m rooting for you, always.”

Will squeezes you tight when he hugs you for the last time. He thanks you, his body relaxes into yours, and you know that in the end he’ll be okay. He’s a brilliant kid, he’s been through more than anyone else his age ever has. He’s resilient, his kindness is his strength, you just hope that he can recognize that himself one day.

As you pull away from the hug, Will’s eyes catch on someone, you turn around. It’s Jonathan, standing by the front door, waiting for you.

It’s time to say goodbye.

Taking a deep breath, you walk towards him, and Jonathan takes your hand and guides you to the porch outside. Everyone else is still inside, packing. You sit side by side in silence, absorbing the final remaining moments alone with each other. Saying goodbye to your childhood best friend leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

A ladybug crawls on a leaf next to you, a bee flies past you and lands on a sunflower nearby, and a bird chirps in the blue sky above. You rest your head on Jonathan’s shoulder, he presses a kiss to your temple. Your fingers interlock and the cool September air surrounds you.

“I made you something,” Jonathan breathes out, clears his throat. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a mixtape, its front covered with a piece of paper listing all the songs on it. “I, uh, used the money I won from the betting pool to make it. Dustin was pretty annoyed with me for winning.”

You snort at the image of your brother berating your friend for winning a betting pool about how long it’d take Steve to ask you out. Taking the mixtape from Jonathan, you read the songs. There’s eight songs on it, the first one being a Beatles song from your childhood; you don’t know how Jonathan knew that. Though most of them are familiar, the writing on the paper is old, faded with age. “How long have you been making this, bee?”

Jonathan looks away from you and swallows. “A while, I guess. Listen to it after I leave, okay? That way, if you hate it, I’ll never have to know.” His demeanor is odd, there’s something he’s not telling you, but it’s your last day with him. You leave it alone for now, not wanting to ruin it.

“You’re not allowed to find a new best friend.” You tell him instead, the silence becoming too much to bear. It’s a joke, though truthfully you don’t want Jonathan to find another best friend. He’s supposed to be yours, only yours, and you’re supposed to be his.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Jonathan lets out a soft laugh, and you’re going to miss feeling the way his body moves as he does so. He sucks in a breath, releases it slowly, and shakes his head. “I mean, we were kids together, bug.”

You start to cry, and he does as well. You’ve never had to say goodbye to each other before. Not like this. The two of you sit on the porch of Jonathan’s childhood home and cry. You cry into his neck, he buries his face into your hair, and it’s all so unfair.

Jonathan touches his forehead to yours. You look into his eyes and know that your childhood will always live within him, and his within you. Jonathan brings his finger up to your bee necklace, his ladybug ring knocks against the pendant. The jewelry glistens in the sunlight.

“Bee, we were more than just kids together.”

And it’s true. You were everything together. Now, you have to figure out how to be everything while apart.

–

The last of the boxes are placed in the moving van. Everyone is crying, you’re all gathered around one another, hugging and saying goodbye.

You hold El tight and whisper good luck to her. You remind Will that everything will be okay, knowing how scared he’s been of high school and remorseful that he has to do it all alone. The kids all cry as they share the final hugs, Jonathan and Nancy cry as they hold one another. Everyone says goodbye, and you watch them with tears in your eyes. You turn to Joyce to kiss her cheek, but she grabs your arm instead.

“Remember what you promised me, okay?” She catches your eye, makes sure you hear what she’s telling you. “Live the life that you deserve.”

“I will,” you exhale, and she seems content with that. Joyce hugs you, kisses your cheek, and you tell her to drive safe as she gets into the van.

Jonathan stands by his car, waiting for you, and you pull the boy into your arms. He crashes against you, clutches you to his chest, and you breathe him in one final time. “I’ll always love you the most, bee.”

“And I’ll always love you the most, bug.”

Joyce drives away first, El in the van with her, before Jonathan and Will follow. The car pulls out of its driveway one final time, and you hold Nancy’s hand as you both cry. Slowly, their cars fade into the distance, and one by one the kids hop on their bikes and pedal away. No one wants to stay, the empty house feels too permanent, solemn. Eventually Nancy gets into her own car, wishing you a quiet goodbye, until it’s just you and your brother standing in front of the house.

Dustin stays beside you, as he always does, and you take a deep breath. Nothing will ever be the same again.

You take one last look at the Byers home, the house you grew up in and discovered pure love and joy and naivety in, and inhale the final scent of your childhood. Dandelions are in bloom, its yellow surrounds the home, soon they will wilt and its seeds will litter the sky

Joyce’s words ring in your head.

It’s time to live the life that you deserve. You’re on your own now, though you know that really you aren’t. Dustin is next to you, Steve and Robin are waiting at your house with movies stolen from work because they knew how hard today would be. Your mother has your favorite cookies ready and waiting for you. Mike and the others have already planned their first letter to Will.

The charm bracelet from the party and Steve is cool against your wrist.

You’re no longer the scared, angry twelve year old you had been when you first moved to Hawkins. You’re loved, you have so many incredible people in your life who now get to watch you grow up into someone new.

Slowly, you exhale your childhood, with a single promise of keeping it within you forever. To live the life that Joyce has told you that you deserve.

And you believe her.

[END OF SEASON THREE]

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eccentricwritingbaby · 2 months

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baby finn series, the last hooray

lando norris x mom!wife!reader

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summary - in order to give finn some extra attention before the baby comes, the young family heads to the english countryside, visiting lando’s parents, and granting finn the last little bit of time all about him.

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“okay finn, what else do you want to bring?” you crouch down and ask your son, attempting to aid his independence while he tries to pack himself.

“hmm,” he mumbles, glancing around his room and then back towards his suitcase, “my toy!”

you chuckle at his enthusiasm, grabbing the toy he was pointing at and throwing it into the bag, “alright, baby, i think you’ve got everything,”

“otay!” he squeals with a clap to his hands, “i show dada?”

“you can show daddy what a big boy you are once he gets home, baby,” you direct to the boy, zipping up his suitcase and pulling him into your arms, “are you excited about this week?”

“yes!” he claps again, “i miss nan and gwampa,”

“i know, but now we’ll be with them for a whole week!” you cheer to him, tickling finn in your lap as he squirms around in a fit of giggles.

“woah, woah,” lando makes his entrance known in the room, leaning against the doorframe, “who’s having all this fun without me?”

“DADA!” your son jumps from your arms, sprinting towards his father to engulf him into a hug. lando scoops up your son, receiving the hug and placing a few kisses to the top of his head.

“hi bubs, what are you and momma doing?” he asks, looking around the room, sending you a wink before taking a seat next to you on the floor.

“packing,” you reply to your husband’s question, “finn didn’t you wanna show daddy?” you nudge your son.

“dada i big like you! i pack myself!”

“really, buddy? good job, ‘m so proud of you,” lando squeezes his giggly son a little tighter, finn absolutely beaming at the praise. he then looks towards his suitcase and starts to show you and lando everything in it. you both giggle in front of him, sounding out a chorus of 'oo's' and 'ahh's' to the little boy. once he was finished, he starts to repack, you internally sighing knowing you'd have to do it properly later.

“alright, baby, daddy and i now have to go pack,” you sigh, “why don’t you read your book for a bit?”

“otay, momma!” finn runs over to his bookcase, grabbing his few dr seuss books and getting situated on his little reading chair. lando glances over at you, six months pregnant and struggling to stand up, holding out his hands to lift you into his arms. once you’re both standing, you leave the room, hearing the quiet mumblings of your four year old trying his best to read the books in front of him.

“i already have most of your clothes set aside that are clean from the wash,” you start, moving around your room to grab both of the suitcases, laying them out on the floor.

“okay, i’m chartering a private flight,” lando breathes out, “so we’ve got to be at the airport by four in the morning tomorrow, the car will be here at three,”

“oh god,” you sigh, “i hope finn sleeps the whole time,”

“it’s like a two hour flight, so we’ll get there around six, but the time difference so it’ll be five-”

“love,” you cut him off, reaching out to take his hands in yours, “everything will be fine, we’ve done this a million times,”

“i know,” he shakes his head, squeezing your intertwined hands a bit, “just never when you were this pregnant and with a toddler,”

“i’m not in my third trimester yet, it is more than safe for me to fly,” you reassure him, a hand coming up to stroke his cheek as he leans into your touch, “and finn will be fine, he’s flown before he knows how it is and he’s always well behaved,”

“okay,” lando’s stress releases a bit, the tension in his shoulders visibly weakening, “you’re right we’ll be fine,”

“yes we will,” pecking his lips quickly, you begin to gather more of your clothes, readying your suitcase for the trip.

“baby,” you shake finn lightly, “we’re here,” he was currently sprawled across your husband's lap, head on yours as he slept throughout the whole flight. he doesn’t budge an inch, ever the heavy sleeper, and lando just laughs at his son’s persistence.

“i’ll carry him, y/n,” he whispers over to you, now grabbing finn in his arms along with swinging your bag over his shoulder. you gather your things, along with some of lando’s, and head down the steps off the jet.

“there they are!” adam hushes out, noticing the tired boy in his own son’s arms.

“hi, hi” you nod towards cisca and adam, lando’s dad rushing to grab the things from your arms as he begins to carry them to the car. you hush out a quiet ‘thank you’ and keep moving, climbing into their backseat. lando begins tucking finn into his carseat in between the both of you, sending you a wink as he finally buckles him in. the drive goes on, lando’s parents asking about the doctor’s appointments, upcoming races, and all around catching up with their son and daughter-in-law.

before you knew it, you had arrived at the parent’s country estate, beyond excited to breathe some fresh air along with having some peace away from the city. exiting the vehicle, adam makes his way to grab your things, lando carrying the sleeping boy yet again, and you all head into the home.

“it feels so good to be here,” your husband whispers out, his mother giving him a side hug to emphasize her own love of her son being near them once again.

“the guest room is all set up for the both of you, and lando, your old room is set up for finn,” cisca directs him, “why don’t you all get settled in, let the boy wake up, and then we can talk about breakfast?”

“that sounds perfect,” you sigh, “thank you, cisca,” she nods in your direction as your young family brings yourselves up the stairs and down to your rooms. once lando had laid finn down onto the guest bed, he moved over to where you were beginning to unpack your things.

“hi baby,” he whispers, still trying to not wake the four year old just a few steps away.

“hi, lan,” you smile, tossing your arms around his neck, his own hands holding your waist steady, “see? i knew we’d be fine,”

“you are always right, my lovely wife,” he shakes his head with a smile, kissing your lips as you sink into him.

“mm, you keep talking like that and we won’t leave the bedroom this week,” lando groans at this imagine, pulling you even closer for another kiss.

“momma? dada?” your son begins to stir, bringing his hands up to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“yes baby?” you ask, lando groaning quietly at the halting of your momentum, dropping his head down onto your shoulder.

“are we here?” finn mumbles, now sitting up on the bed and beginning to look around.

“yeah, love, we just got here,” you whisper to him, watching him slightly nod and take in his surroundings.

“where nan and gwampa?” he asks, now scooting towards the edge of the bed, struggling to hop off. your husband now noticing his struggling son, heads over and lifts him onto his hip.

“they’re downstairs, bubs,” lando replies to him, dropping a kiss down to the top of his head, “wanna head down there? say hi?”

“yes! dada carry me?” he looks up at his father, his bright eyes staring up at him in awe, the way he always looks at lando, his hero.

“of course, bubs, let’s go,” another kiss dropped to his son’s forehead and a slight nod to you, the family heads downstairs to be greeted by adam and cisca again. even though finn was still a little tired, the minute he saw his grandparents there was plenty of squirming in his dad’s arms before he was finally set down, sprinting towards them at full speed. after so many hugs and excitement, you catch you and your husband yawning at the same time, both laughing at each other once spotted.

“you both must be exhausted,” adam states, eyeing your appearance, “were you up the entire flight?”

“since three,” lando nods as adam’s eyes widen.

“why don’t you lie down for a while after breakfast,” cisca says, still holding onto her grandson, “we’ll catch up with finn, here,” she smiles in your direction and you give her a smile of thanks, proceeding to sit down at the table. you all share breakfast, stories, and laughs, watching your son ramble on and on to adam about how he is so excited to kart soon. lando emphasizes that it won’t be for a while, but finn doesn’t care, too excited to understand the correction. after the conversation dies down, you and your husband decide to excuse yourselves, ready for a much needed nap.

“oh my god,” lando groans as he collapses on the bed in front of him, “i am so fucking tired,”

“me too,” you mumble with him, joining him on the bed.

“why don’t we have a quick shower and then nap?” he suggests in your direction.

“i don’t think i can get up,” you laugh quietly in his direction.

“i don’t think i can either,” he chuckles with you, “how about a shower after we nap?”

“beautiful,” you sigh, rolling over slightly to be face to face with your husband, “and then we’ll have more energy for, other things,” you smile at him. he leans forward, catching your lips in a kiss, as you hum, loving the feeling after such a long day.

“later, baby,” you giggle into his mouth, “i’m falling asleep right now,”

“you’re right,” he laughs, “i am too,”

two hours later, a steamy shower and a nice nap, you and lando are getting ready to spend some more time with your son and his parents.

“what time are we meeting your mom tomorrow?” lando asks you as you both make your way outside, already hearing the sweet baby giggles approaching.

“five in the evening, she grabbed us some reservation in the city near my dad’s office,” you shrug, “so we’ll meet her and then make our way into town,”

“that sounds perfect,” lando nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“MOMMA! DADA!” finn comes running at you both like a bullet, his knees and hands filled to the brim with mud, just as you’d hoped. living in monaco, in an apartment building, he didn’t have as much time playing outside as you’d hoped. both you and lando grew up in the country, and you’d wished for him to still have those experiences when he can.

“hi baby!” you laugh out, “are you having fun?”

“yes!” he giggles, holding onto your husband’s leg, “i play with dada’s old car!” you look off in the direction of adam, standing near lando’s old kart he had when he was finn’s age.

“how’d you get so dirty, bubs?” lando asks, looking down at his little twin caked with mud.

“i play in dirt,” finn shrugs, beginning to head back over to his grandfather.

“oh,” lando laughs, still holding onto you, “well that’s specific,” he jokes.

“that’s your son,” you shake your head with a laugh, moving towards cisca where she was sitting on a bench near the family.

you and her both watch as the boys run around with finn, hearing his giggles along with your own husband’s and father-in-laws. you can’t help but smile at the scene in front of you - lando attempting to instruct finn the right way to drive, showing him everything he knows. in return, your son is eyeing his father with focus, holding onto every word that drops from his mouth. you watch the duo, and relax, knowing that once baby girl norris was here, finn wouldn’t feel left out or forgotten, him and lando held such a special bond that couldn’t be broken.

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fettuccin-e · 1 year

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Fires In Those Eyes

Kinktober Day 11: Seduction

Tags: Joel Miller x Reader, afab!fem!reader, oral (m!recieving), fingering, unprotected piv (pls wrap it irl omg please), joel is whipped, but also so is reader, degradation, possessive sex, joel's filthy mouth again my bad (w/c: 1.3K)

A/N: Second Joel fic of the month! Hooray! This time they actually get naked and get down and dirty so double hooray. I tend to just write Jackson!era Joel just because I want him to be happy okay. Also day 10 will be up eventually so sorry about that lol (I have been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings!)

Most of the time, Joel doesn’t think you’re even trying to seduce him like you do. You’re just you. Perfect, soft you, the woman he fell in love with when he didn’t think he was even capable of it anymore. And God, it’s embarrassing with how much he wants you all the fucking time. When you’re on patrol with him, when you’re making dinner for him, you, and Ellie, in the house that you managed to make a home. He feels deranged with the way he wants to tear your clothes off and fuck you until you scream for him at only the drop of a hat. And you’re not even trying.

You’re trying now, though.

He can tell, from the moment you step inside the house, peeling off your gloves and looking at him with a glint in your eyes that has his breath hitching and cock bulging in his jeans.

“Ellie’s sleeping over at Dina’s tonight,” you whisper, smoothing your hands over the planes of his chest. There are flames in your eyes, and Joel feels like he’s burning.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he murmurs, his voice rougher than he means it, but you only lick your lips and look up at him through your lashes. You look like pure fuckin’ sin.

You perch up on your tip-toes, leaning close enough that your lips brush the skin of his ear. “What are you going to do about it?” you whisper, and Joel can’t help how he growls.

He’s got you slammed up against the wall before he even knows what he’s done, tearing your coat off your shoulders and letting it fall carelessly to the floor. You pull your shirt off, throwing it somewhere behind him, before you lick into his mouth in the messiest, dirtiest kiss he’s ever had. You claw at his back, rubbing against him like a damn cat in heat, and Joel feels lightheaded with how fast blood rushes to his cock.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” he rasps against your lips, and you whine so sweetly for him.

“Need you to fuck me, God, I need it so bad, Joel.” Your hand comes down to squeeze the bulge of his cock through his jeans, and fuck, you’ve never been this bold, never taken him like you are right now.

“C’mon, baby,” he groans, “let’s go to bed.” But you’re shaking your head, your deft hand unzipping him and freeing him from the confines of his clothes.

“No, no,” you whine, “‘S too far, Joel, need you now.”

You look up into his eyes as you sink to your knees before him, and Joel’s vision blurs at the edges when you lick a long, slow stripe up the underside of his length. He has to brace his hands on the wall as you take him into your mouth, hot wet heat engulfing him as you sink deep. The tight clutch of your throat has him groaning, his hips pitching forward.

You grab onto his hips like you love it, sucking hard enough to make the breath punch out of his lungs. Your head bobs obscenely, your hair brushing his thighs every time to take him to the root. His knees tremble, struggling to hold himself up as you suck his cock like you’ll never get the chance again.

“Baby,” he groans, and you pop off of him, grinning with that same fire in your eyes that makes him want to rip you apart on him. Fuck, he thinks you want him to do just that.

The way he gets to the floor, gets you on your hands and knees for him, is a goddamn mystery. It can stay a mystery, a blur in his memory for all he cares, because when he gets your pants off, peeling your panties halfway down your thighs, baring your beautiful, glistening pussy to his gaze, none of it fucking matters anymore. All that matters is the way his fingers drive into you, reckless, insistent, hammering into you so hard you see stars.

“Fuck, honey, you’re drippin’,” Joel mutters, and your face burns, even as your hips hump back into his hand on pure instinct. “She’s just gonna suck me right in,” he says, twisting his hand as his fingers spread you apart in a way that makes you sob.

And he’s right, he’s so right. Sinking into you is a goddamn revelation, hot and tight around him as you scrabble at the floor for purchase, moaning and pushing your hips back against him. Your pussy lets him in so easy, so perfect, and he shudders as your body clutches at him like a vice, hot and wet and at his fucking mercy.

“God damn it, baby,” he groans, thrusting into you to the fucking hilt and relishing in the way it makes you scream. “You’re so fuckin’ wet f’me.”

“Oh God,” you gasp, even as it feels like your pussy is being stretched to its fucking limit. “All day, fuck- I’ve been wet for you all fucking day.” His hips slap against your ass so hard, pressing in so deep that all you can do is gasp for air and fucking take it.

“Yeah, honey? Needed this cock all fuckin’ day? Comin’ home just to fuck me like a goddamn slut,” he rasps, and God, it’s true. His cock in your cunt is all you need, all you ever need. Even with the wooden floor digging into your achy knees, your panties tangled around your thighs, fuck, this is all you’ve needed since you woke up this morning. He’s right, you’re a whore for the way he fucks you.

“Yes, yes, oh my fucking- Joel,” you cry out as he hammers into that sweet spot buried deep inside, not letting you breathe for a second.

“This what you needed, sweetheart? Needed me to fuck you on the goddamn floor like we’re fuckin’ animals?” He presses a hand to the small of your back, shaping you into an obscene arch that has you getting tighter around him, practically choking his cock with your pretty pussy. “Such a fuckin’ whore,” he snarls. “Who can fuck you like this?”

“You, Joel,” you cry, tears dripping from your eyes onto the floor. He pulls your hair into his hand, yanking your head back and pulling your body onto his cock with every thrust. The sounds of your cunt smack, smack, smacking against his body are sticky and wet and fucking debauched.

“That’s fuckin right,” he says, sounding about as wrecked as you feel. “Only me. I own this fuckin’ pussy, right baby?”

“Fuck, yes, yes, yes,” you’re gasping, clawing at the wooden floor, and Joel fucking chuckles behind you, deep and dark and primal.

“C’mon, girl,” he rasps, and he snakes a thick hand under your heaving body to rub a calloused finger along your throbbing clit, and you scream. “Squeeze this cock with this slutty little cunt. Show me who owns you.”

And you can’t refuse him, you can’t, not when your body is already locking up with your orgasm. Your pussy strangles his cock, practically forcing his orgasm out of him, and he snarls as he fills you up with his cum. He takes his hand from your hair to wrap it around your chest, pulling you up to press your back against his chest. You tremble in his hold as spasms rock through you.

When you finally settle, he presses kisses to your neck, and you let out soft giggles in reply, running your fingers through his hair.

“Mm, I need a nap,” you sigh, sinking against him. You gasp as Joel nips harshly at your skin.

“Nuh uh, baby. You started this,” he rasps, dark with promise. “And I’m the one that’s gonna fuckin' finish it.”

#oh joel how i adore you #when i write him the filthy mouth is just there idk how to explain it #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou smut #tlou fic

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pompadorbz · 29 days

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FINALLY FINISHED MY QPHIL 3.0 DESIGN HOORAY (cant wait to. redesign it again in like 3 months.) (CHECK UNDER THE CUT FOR MY SILLY DESIGN NOTES!!)

I think I said this before but i so. SO BADLY wanted him to have a sleep theme since I always loved how his presence on the island was kinda up in the air. Is it a dream? Is it not? When he goes between the island and hardcore is that change really happening? Who knows.

The idea of making his usual outfit more like a housecoat was super appealing to me, so I opted for this open housecoat look with really heavy frills which were super fun to figure out, and I knew from pretty early on that I wanted to give him a quilt pattern SOMEWHERE on his design, so I thought the inside of the coat would do nicely for a sorta "default state". It also meant I could attribute meaning to the symbols and colours I used. wink nudge.

He has a more subtle angel theme, like with the mobile on his walking stick being a halo with the wing placement further emphasizing this, as well as just his generally lighter colour scheme. When I say sleep was his theme I almost more-so imagine it as like. The feeling of waking up in the morning where you're mostly refreshed but still a LITTLE drowsy. Lots of very spring-y, morning colours.

Just some other quick notes, I always really liked the mod in the server where you could have the crows perch on your shoulder and follow cuz of the lantern, so I thought it'd be fun if I made it so brian just straight up WAS the lantern. So I made him look like one of those wall outlet nightlights!! The backpack being kinda cat shaped was COMPLETELY unintentional but a very welcome result. Missa backpack is real.

As for the alternate outfits, I have a bolas one, as well as an ender king one since I deemed those two the most important. For the ender king I weirdly don't have many notes, like it's fairly straightforward (Save for the elephant in the room but now I'm gonna keep my secrets on why that's a thing). The Quilt design is supposed to be a lighter, easier-on-the-eyes version of the no texture pattern, and I imagine that all the goop and gunk on Phil is hidden under the coat. I imagine it'd look fairly similar to canon so just like. imagine it for now. Might draw it one day. MAYBE. There's some tiny additional colour symbolism but I'll hold my tongue on that and let you guys draw your own conclusions there. I WILL say, however, that instead of his theme being sleep, his theme is "nightmare" (and also kinda sleepwalking since both fit).

The Bolas design was SUPER fun to work with. For starters I wanted the three designs to be in three different states. One with the coat, one with the coat reversed, and one without the coat entirely. Since I wanted to do the checker pattern thing with the possession design, having the sleeveless bolas design worked really well for the shape I landed on, even if it wasn't conventional. and SPEAKING of non-conventional design choices, I decided to go against the usual plague doctor + gas mask fusion design. Which might be controversial... But god. The moment I thought of his mask being a falconry hood, the idea just wouldn't leave my mind. Because of this, the full mask is kinda separated into two parts. The eye mask which kinda also mirrors his usual sleep mask, and the gas mask itself (I kept it in a beak shape since it'd feel odd if i made it any other shape for phil, lol). When designing the whole thing I kept thinking about more apocalypse setting clothing. Like mad max. Or the one gag from that one spongebob movie. Lots of leather. And of course, to match the other sleep themes, the Bolas outfit's theme is "fever dream", although its a bit more subtle. It's easily the weirdest design, The pops of green were simultaneously in reference to the friendship emerald... As well as... Well, the green chain right below the chain on the sickness themed design was probably the most tasteful way I could've chosen to get across vomit without it being too on the nose. (also sidenote, I had a few friends compare bolas phil to... a fly. Which wasn't intentional but it's kinda funny that the guy designed after fever dreams looks a little bit like a bug.) Ok thats it for design commentary I'm gonna go to bedge nyow.

#syd spiels qsmp #my art #qsmp #syd's art #q!philza #philza #qsmp ender king #im so sleepy guys i gotta be up early tomorrow

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astrxealis · 2 years

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hi i didn't actually sleep last night but i will nap for now until my next clsss 🥺

#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚#HI. hello. thinking abt pjsk #me w aki/toya (so it wont show up in tags. the slash yeah)#it is like hey eres akito my bf and akitos bf toya! i love them.#i will put my prsk ships in my rentry soon :] <3 #uhm i have like. just 2 hw today! <3 #altho there's like... 3 grpworks i need to work on as well so wah <//3 #i still feel kinda mentally terribly but i'll try to sort out my thoughts #i think it's. unfortunately best if i still continue to uhmm Fake It Till I Make It (???)#and bury my thoughts for now but one day i'll definitely have to confront them. just not now #aaand i'll try to. manage and sort out my thoughts so i don't overthink too much and have too bad anxiety!#i will uhm. just not ? perceive ?? aaa i am thinkin again i don't like this good night #OH I DIDNT GET SLEEP BUT LAST NIGHT WAS GREAT TBH #chatted w xiv friend big bro guy + twin so hooray :] <33 !!!

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d3v1ls4dvocat3 · 4 months

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For Your Prince

Prince! Gojo x Servant! Reader Smut

warnings: Smut, Porn without plot, Slight Dubious Consent, Abuse of power, Caught Mausterbating, cum eating, Oral (M Recieving), hair pulling, Mean! Gojo, gagging, i think that’s it?? please let me know if I missed anything

wc: 1294

A/N: First official post and it’s Gojo smut hooray! I’ve had this idea floating around for a bit through so putting it down feels good. Hope you enjoy~

MDNI OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

The sounds of birds chirping was all you heard as you walked the long stretch of hallway ahead of you.

The morning light was still barely filtering through the windows, casting small shadows along the walls of the large cherry blossoms in the courtyard.

Your gaze shifted outside as you walked, a small sigh escaping your mouth at the thought of being able to breathe in fresh air for once instead of castle dust.

You brushed the thought off as you approached your goal: Prince Satouru’s chambers. You’d only recently been promoted to his personal servant, and included in your new job description was waking the prince for breakfast.

This, of course, was utterly terrifying to you, a young woman who’d only been a mere maid up until Satoru’s last servant had been fired- the details of which you’re still not sure of.

The gossip (as unreliable it was it was really all you had to go off of) around the situation had been a hot topic. According to the chambermaid, Gojo had tried to flirt with the servant, only to be rejected.

The one rule you knew since promoting, an absolute under no circumstances, do you ever reject Gojo Satoru.

Gathering your strength, you brushed off the dust from your apron, braced yourself, and lightly knocked on the door.

“My lord, breakfast is ready,” You called out. A moment passed and you didn’t hear anything. You bit your lip and knocked again, slightly louder this time. “My lord?”

Again, the other side was quiet. You debated on leaving him to sleep. A sleepy Satoru was an angry Satoru and you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

But, then again, you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of King Sakuna’s wrath either for not getting Satoru up on time. So, without much further protest, you grabbed the door handle and twisted it open.

“My lord, I’m sorry for coming in, but-“

You stopped in your tracks.

There, laying on the bed, was your prince. He laid naked with one arm propped up behind his head, and the other wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping out his cum.

He’d just cum.

You’d barged in on your prince masterbating.

Quickly, you turned around, your face heating up in embarrassment.

“M-My Lord, I-I’m so very sorry! I don’t know what possessed me to enter unannounced. I’ll leave immediately.”

Your hand gripped tightly around the door handle again before a raspy voice called out your name.

“Don’t leave yet. I need you to clean this up,” Gojo said. You paused, trying to process the words.

“Sir?” You asked, turning slightly with confusion. Gojo gazed at you with utter lust. His mouth curved into a smirk and he beckoned you closer to him.

“My servant is supposed to do as I say, no? I am your prince after all,” He smiled.

You stayed motionless, a million thoughts running through your mind. Your gaze shifted down once more, looking at the glistening mess on Satoru’s abs. His cock was still hard. It was big, so large and thick and throbbing-

You looked down at your feet.

Never reject Gojo Satoru.

Slowly, you inched closer to the bed. You heard Gojo hum.

“That’s a good girl. Now clean me up. I need to be heading to breakfast,"he said.

You looked at his chest. The mess was all over his hands, running down his cock still, in his pubes, and shot up onto his stomach. You grabbed your apron and shakily placed it on his stomach first, trying to wipe up as much as you could without touching anything too exposing.

Gojo grabbed your hand. “Did I tell you to wipe me?”

You frowned, confused and slightly scared you’d taken this too far. “My Lord, I was only trying to clean you-“

“Use your tongue.”

You stopped.

You stared.

“Don’t make me force your head down, servant. I gave you an order,” Gojo said as he gripped your chin in his other hand.

Slowly, you pulled back your apron from his chest. Gojo’s smirk grew. He let go of your face and you opened your mouth. Gojo watched as you stuck your tongue out and slowly dropped your body to get closer to his chest. Your face was inches away from his abs now, from his cum.

You breathed in and finally dropped all the way down, taking in the essence of Gojo Satoru. He moaned lightly and gripped onto your hair. You ran your tongue along his body, tasting every square inch of him. Gojo pushed your head down to his pubes. You sucked and licked as he maneuvered your head. You were acting merely as a tool for his use, a personal cum rag for the Prince.

The thought made you groan.

Just as you did, Gojo pushed your head down further and against his cock. Your mouth opened on instinct and you licked up the base all the way to the tip. Gojo moaned at the sensation. His grip on your hair increased and he pulled you up slightly.

“Open your fucking mouth,” He ordered. You didn’t hesitate this time.

In an instant, your lips were wrapped around your Prince’s cock. You began to suck and lick at it as Gojo used your head for his own personal desire. He pushed up and down on your head, making you gag with each thrust.

Gojo began to moan more, his hips thrusting into your warm mouth. You sucked and gagged on his cock, gripping onto the bed sheets for any ounce of stability you could gain. Gojo continued to fuck into your mouth like a mad man, giving you no time to breath or relax your throat.

You were a toy. A play thing for him. You groaned again.

“Ah, fuck, princess don’t do that. You’ll make me finish in that pretty little mouth of yours,” Gojo laughed.

You burned at the pet name, and moaned again. Gojo cursed and pushed your head all the way down. “I think you want to be filled up with your prince’s cum. You just can’t get enough, huh? Fucking dirty servant. Only good for making her master cum. Oh, fuck that’s right baby choke on my fucking cock.”

Gojo pounded into your mouth without stopping. He held onto your hair to keep you from moving off him and his hips slammed into you like a battering ram.

You had no choice but to grip onto his sheets and let him finish. You groaned again and at that Gojo cursed aloud. “Take my fucking cum, baby,” He said and pushed your head down.

Instantly, you felt something warm and wet hit the back of your throat. You tried not to gag as Gojo moaned and came down your throat, moving your head up and down his base.

After a moment, his grip on you lessened and you were free to take your mouth off his cock. You raised up slowly, ignoring the taste of cum in your mouth. Gojo smiled at you still. You waited for him to say anything, give you another order or even possibly thank you.

Instead, he got out of bed and walked to his closet. As he grabbed a pair of trousers, he turned back to you.

“You’re free to go now, servant. That’s all I needed you for.”

You kept a tight smile. “Yes, my Lord”.

Gojo smiled and grabbed your chin again. “You might just last.”

A warm feeling spread through you at what that implied. You nodded as Gojo whipped some cum from your mouth.

The only rule you knew, never reject Satoru Gojo. You could live with that rule.

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the-s1lly-corner · 5 months

Note

Charles Lee ray and Brahms (seperately ) where they get turned into cats that can talk and reader finds them and the realize they get lost if attention from the reader.

Fluff plz

Charles lee ray and brahms but they're cats

The first version of this post didnt save but I had only written this top segment so nothing was really lost HOORAY

Characters: Charles Lee Ray, Brahms Heelshire

Notes: Reader is GN, not explained why they're cats, reader is implied to be working with Charles in his murders

CWs: mentions of murders in Charles's part

Charles

Getting this out but he doesnt play games when he wants your attention- whether it be verbally demanding it or setting a.. surprise.. for you.. he does not take well to being ignored

Moving on he is piiiissed when he realizes what's happened to him- even more so if this is after hes been a doll.. but let's just say this takes place before that/an au

Takes it worse, actually, especially given that cats can be killed easier than toys

You do come up with the idea to use him as a lure to bring unsuspecting victims that had only wanted to help a "poor stray"

Circling back to the attention- hes not totally opposed to being treated like royalty.. ignoring that hes a little offended that you spoil him more than when he was a human..

Brahms

Even though he retains the capabilities to speak as a cat he hardly utilizes them, though that's because he simply... doesnt speak much

It's not much different actually, Brahms always begs for your attention and it's still the case when hes been turned into a furred animal.. except.. now hes more comfortable knocking things onto you while you sleep if he wants to hang out with you.. whether it be his cat instincts kicking in or hes willingly doing it to be a little shit

Definitely a climber, climbs up your back and perches himself on your shoulder while you work

The second you get him fancy stuff- food, toys, and so on.. be sure that you can afford it long term because it's going to become the standard

He may not speak but he DOES meow, loudly, until you pick him up

#charles lee ray x reader #charles lee ray x you #chucky x you #chucky imagine #chucky x reader #brahms x you #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms imagine #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms x reader #slasher imagine #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #slasher x you #slashers x you #slashers x reader #slashers imagine

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burnednotburied · 4 months

Text

Chapter 5: The Aquarium

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas; sorry (but not that sorry) to any Owen fans, but he’s kinda a huge asshole in this

Note: I added chapter titles and finally figured out exactly where I’m going with this story lol. Hooray for having a plan!!

(Sorry it took more than two weeks to get this chapter out! End-of-semester craziness, ya know? I hope this chapter being like twice as long as usual makes up for it!)

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Abby realized too late that she probably should’ve warned you about the life-sized whales on the ceiling.

By the look on your face, she could tell you’ve never seen anything like it.

Which made sense. She hadn’t either before she and Owen found this place three years ago.

She paused to watch you for just a second, taking in your amazed expression as you marveled at the enormous hanging sea creatures above you.

Abby could easily remember what her first time here was like. How incredible and other-worldly this place felt. She imagined it must be even more overwhelming for you, this fractured piece of a world you were not a part of and knew little about. A world where humans built a place where they could go to look at fish for no reason other than that it was entertaining. A world where people did things just for fun.

Of course, Abby had also never been a part of that world, but at least she knew about it. She’d caught glimpses of it, carefully and intentionally gathering bits and pieces. She watched films and documentaries. She read novels and history books, newspapers and magazines if she could find them.

Knowledge was power. And, to Abby, having power was important. Having power meant being able to keep the people she cared about safe.

And if you had enough power, no one could ever take it away from you.

So she dedicated herself to becoming powerful, both of mind and of body. It’s all she had known and cared about since she lost her dad.

It’s why she lost Owen.

She still wasn’t sure if that had been a good thing or a bad thing, but she knew she felt guilty about it.

Three years ago, Owen had quickly claimed the aquarium as his own. He cleaned it up, made it feel as homey as possible, and spent as much time here as he could get away with. Abby didn’t tell anyone, not even the rest of the Salt Lake crew. It was right around the time they were breaking up. She felt like she owed him her discretion at the very least. Not that it really made up for anything.

Yesterday morning, when Nora told Abby that Owen was missing, she assumed he’d come here.

God, she hoped she was right.

Abby shifted the injured Yara in her arms, her muscles burning from carrying the girl for so long.

It was early in the morning now. The sun had just begun to rise as the four of you had been making your way into the aquarium.

“Owen!” she shouted, leading the way down one of the hallways off the main entrance. Abby thought he would most likely be out on the boat, either sleeping or continuing in his never-ending attempts to get the thing in working order.

“Owen!” she called out again. “Owen! Are you here?”

She paused for a moment, listening. Nothing.

“Owen—”

“I’m here.” She heard his voice just before he rounded the corner, stopping short when he saw the whole group of you. “Are those Scars?” he asked, genuinely surprised and definitely confused as hell.

Abby ignored the question. “I need whatever medical supplies you have.”

Before Owen could respond, Alice came barreling around the corner, barking aggressively at the perceived enemies.

The next few seconds were chaotic to say the least.

You screamed and jumped back. Lev reacted quickly, his bow drawn and an arrow notched.

“Alice, no!” Abby yelled out.

Owen grabbed for the German Shepherd, holding her back as she continued to lunge forward, trying to attack.

“Put the bow down! It’s okay!” Abby shouted.

Owen gripped the dog’s harness tightly. “Put that down!”

“Alice, shut up! Lev, put the bow down!”

“Alice, stop—Abby, what the fuck?!”

“Lev, listen to them! Put it down!” you insisted, putting a hand on his shoulder as you tried to push him behind you.

All of this happened simultaneously, muffled by the sound of deafening, echoing barking.

“Alice!” a new voice, one that Abby knew belonged to Mel, shouted. To her, the dog listened, sitting down obediently with one final bark.

Mel stood next to Owen and Alice, staring.

There was a moment of silence.

Abby turned to the young boy. “Lev, lower the bow. It’s okay.”

Reluctantly, he listened.

“Abby, who are these people?” Mel asked.

“They saved my life,” she said, hoping that would be enough of an answer for now. “Can you take a look at her?” Abby looked down at Yara, who seemed to be barely conscious in her arms.

Mel dropped a hand on Alice’s head, instructing her to stay, as she slowly stepped closer, eyeing you and Lev cautiously.

“This is Yara,” Abby said before nodding over to the kid at her right, “That’s Lev. And that’s—” She stopped short. She wasn’t about to introduce you to them as Prophet.

Behind her, you spoke, offering up your name. Abby and Lev’s eyes both swung to you, widening for two entirely different reasons.

Abby’s because she was hearing your name for the first time. It was your name. It was like she discovered a brand new piece to this puzzle she had been frantically trying to assemble since the moment she saw you.

She wasn’t sure why Lev looked shocked, but it seemed like a big deal, for you to use your name in place of the title that had been forced upon you by the other Scars.

Abby quietly repeated the name, committing it to memory.

Mel gave a small nod, unaware of the mini revelation that was happening right in front of her, instead focusing on Yara with a concerned look on her face.

“What did this?” she asked, looking down at the girl’s mangled arm.

“A hammer,” you said, stepping forward until you were standing right next to Abby.

“It wasn’t me,” Abby quickly added. Guilty, despite her innocence. She was ashamed that she needed to make that clarification. Worried about what you would think about it.

Mel hesitated, regarding each of the Scars one by one again before sighing. “Alright. Let’s lay her down.”

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The pregnant woman—clearly someone Abby knew but wasn’t exactly friendly with—decided that Yara had compartment syndrome, which apparently meant they would have to cut her arm off.

While everyone else argued about the best way to accomplish that task, you stood off to the side, feeling sick. If you had been able to stop Emily’s men last night, this wouldn’t be happening.

It shouldn’t be happening.

Yara was going to lose her arm or die because you failed her.

You were trying not to spiral. Trying to be helpful now. (Too little, too late.) Trying to pay attention to the Wolves’ conversation.

They didn’t have the supplies they needed to perform the amputation safely. Yara didn’t have time to wait the couple days it would take Abby to travel all the way to the hospital and back.

“What if we could get you there in two hours?” Lev asked, hands grasping the metal table where Yara laid in the center of the room. “The Wolf hospital, right? On the west side?”

The man—Owen—stood, interested. “How?”

“The bridges,” you said, realizing what Lev was getting at. All eyes turned to you. “Our people built them. High up.”

Lev nodded. “It’s how we get around the flooding. And… you people.”

After a quiet moment, Abby stepped forward. “Can she handle two hours?”

The woman considered this, her hand comfortingly placed on Yara’s shoulder. “Probably, yeah.”

Abby nodded. “Then make a list of what you need.”

Owen stepped closer, joining the circle the rest of you had formed around Yara. “Wait. Are you serious? Abby, these bridges are used by Scars.”

The fact that he was arguing against the plan frustrated you. Yara didn’t have time for this.

“They only send in small groups at a time,” Lev said.

“You heard that? Small groups.” Abby said, watching as the other woman jotted down the supplies on a loose piece of paper and handed it over.

“This isn’t a joke.” Owen looked only at Abby, trying to catch her eyes. She seemed to be actively avoiding making contact.

Instead, she turned to you and said your name, followed by, “Let’s go.”

You looked up at her, at a loss for words. It was sad that something as simple as hearing your name could have this effect on you, but it had been eight years since you’d heard it… And this was already the second time Abby had said it.

You wanted to turn and walk right out the door with her, happy to follow her anywhere, but reality set it.

“I can’t,” you said. “I don’t know where the hospital is. And I don’t know our bridges well enough to guide you. It will have to be Lev.” It looked like Abby might argue with you, or at least tell you to come with them.

You wanted to. The idea of letting Lev go back out into danger without you made you sick with worry. But, foolish as it may seem, you trusted Abby to look out for him. And you didn’t understand these other Wolves and the strange dynamic at play here. You certainly didn’t trust them to be alone with Yara.

“Someone needs to stay with her,” you said, holding Abby’s gaze.

She nodded, grabbing her backpack off the floor. “Alright. Lev.”

He looked to you, taking your hand in his. The group splitting up must’ve felt wrong to him, too.

Almost on instinct, you did what you had been trained to do. You offered a bit of comfort.

“May She guide you,” you said quietly, giving him a small, encouraging smile as you squeezed his one hand between both of yours.

The words were familiar to you both, a common Seraphite mantra. He reciprocated your tight grasp and finished the line, “May She protect you.”

When you released his hand, he placed it on Yara’s shoulder, as if to tell her goodbye as well. She was unresponsive.

You felt a hand fall on your own shoulder and looked up to find that it was Abby. She nodded her head to the opposite end of the room, impatiently taking your wrist in her hand and leading you over there when you didn’t immediately catch her meaning.

She didn’t let go.

Abby stood close, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear. “We’ll be back as soon as possible. Yara’s going to be fine, okay. And I’ll keep Lev safe.”

You couldn’t help the slight upward curve of your lips. “I know,” you said. “I trust you.”

She blinked, caught off guard, but continued. “I wouldn’t mention the whole you-being-the-Prophet thing to Owen and Mel if I were you.”

“I’m not a prophet,” you deadpanned.

She let out an exasperated breath. “Okay, sure. Well I wouldn’t tell them that the Scars think—”

“Seraphites,” you interjected.

“—Seraphites—Just… you get the point. Don’t mention it, okay?”

“What if they ask questions?”

“Dodge them. Be vague.”

“You don’t trust your friends?” you asked, more serious now.

“No,” Abby said. “Not with you.”

You couldn’t begin to guess what she meant by that.

“I trust them… for the most part.” She glanced at them over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again. “I just don’t know how they would react to that information. It’s not exactly a small thing. I don’t know what they would do with it.”

You looked at her for while longer, then nodded your head. “Okay. I won’t say anything.”

“Abby?” the man’s voice came from behind you.

She let go of your wrist immediately, as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

You turned around to find the woman—Mel—and Owen both looking at you like they were witnessing something truly insane, instead of just two people having a conversation.

Lev stood on his own by the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eager to get moving.

From behind you, you felt Abby’s hand wrap around your wrist again, squeezing lightly and then letting go.

“We’ll be back,” she said, this time at a normal volume. She joined Lev by the door, opening it and leading the way out.

“Abby!” Owen said again, moving to follow them out.

Mel groaned, frustrated. “God! Owen, just let them go.” When he ignored her, she went after him, the door slamming loudly behind her.

You stayed behind with Yara.

She was blinking slowly, barely awake, her shallow breaths too few and far between for your liking. You felt helpless, knowing there wasn’t much you could do other than sit and wait.

You pulled up a chair.

Just outside the door, the two Wolves were arguing. Although, you only caught bits and pieces of it.

Something about Abby and Scars and a cloak… Something about someone who looked like she just stepped out of The Lord of the Rings. You didn’t know what that meant, but it was clear they were talking about you.

Again, you unfastened the cloak and freed yourself of your top layer. Whether that was due to embarrassment or a sudden recognition of the uncomfortable warmth of the room, you couldn’t tell.

“Did you see how she was looking at her?” “Owen, why do you care? Why does it matter to you?” you heard through the door.

The dynamic here was becoming more and more confusing.

You’d assumed that Owen was the father of Mel’s child, just because they seemed to live here together. But that didn’t explain Mel’s rather apparent unfavorable opinion of Abby. And it definitely didn’t explain Owen’s preoccupation with Abby.

Their conversation continued for several minutes, volume rising and falling periodically. There wasn’t much you understood and even less of it seemed important or interesting to you.

Eventually, the door swung open again, making you jump in your seat. Mel reentered the room, offering you a strained smile as she checked on Yara. You quietly watched her work.

“There’s not much we can do for her until Abby and your friend get back,” she said to you, eyes still focused on Yara. “If you want, I can get you set up with a place to sleep while we wait.”

“No,” you said, too quickly to be polite. “…Thank you. I’ll stay with Yara.”

Mel pulled her lips into a tight line and nodded, leaving the room again. She came back a few minutes later with water and a shiny red apple, offering them up for you to take.

“Sorry. I know it’s not much. Owen isn’t well-stocked on food right now,” she said after you’d accepted the snack.

You smiled. “Thank you. You’re very kind to be helping us at all.”

Mel didn’t really answer, instead gesturing to the door as she walked toward it. “Well, we’ll… be around. If you need anything. And I’ll come in and check on her periodically.”

You nodded, quietly thanking her again. The discarded cloak that you’d left on a table by the door caught your eye. “Oh. Wait.”

She turned to face you again, eyebrows raised in question.

“What is The Lord of the Rings?” you asked.

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An excursion that was supposed to take two hours ended up taking nearly all day.

But hey, Abby had done the best she could.

She faced her deeply-rooted fear of heights on that sorry excuse for a bridge. She fought off Infected and Scars. She was, let’s say, detained by her fellow WLF soldiers at the hospital. And then she had to fight and kill what must’ve been the biggest, gnarliest, freakiest blob of cordyceps infection to ever exist.

She barely got out of there alive, but she managed to leave with the medical supplies in hand. Plus tons of new material for her future nightmares.

Mel had started operating as soon as they got back to the aquarium, with Owen assisting her.

You and Lev sat just outside the door the entire time.

The surgery had gone well. Yara was doing okay, all things considered.

After, Owen handed Abby a pile of sleeping bags and blankets and walked off without saying a word.

Abby handed them off to you and carefully lifted Yara again, this time to move her to a more comfortable spot to rest. She led the way to the next room, you and Lev trailing behind.

There was a long couch in the new room. You motioned for Lev to lay down on one end while Abby set Yara down on the other.

She stepped back and watched, amused, as you fussed over the two of them for a few minutes, using most of the blankets on your young friends.

When you were sure they were both as comfortable as possible, you left them to rest and walked back over to Abby. In your arms, you held the two sleeping bags that you hadn’t used on the kids.

You offered one of them to her.

She shook her head, motioning to the space on the floor in front of the couch where there was an old, worn-out rug.

“Lay mine out for me? I have to go do something before I go to sleep.”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, looking concerned.

“I just need to talk to Owen. I’ll be right back.”

You studied her face, like you were trying to figure out whether or not she was being truthful.

Abby doubled down, pointing again. “Go. Get some sleep. I’ll be back.”

You sighed but went where she had pointed and began laying out the two sleeping bags.

One for you. One for her. Right next to each other on the floor.

You had been doing a good job of hiding it, but Abby could tell you were exhausted. She couldn’t blame you. Hell, she was exhausted. And the sooner she touched base with Owen, the sooner she could come back.

She turned and went out to track him down.

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You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

You had been awake for almost forty-eight hours, but you couldn’t fall asleep. Your mind was racing. Filled with worry for Yara, concern about her condition, guilt for having been unable to prevent the injury from happening in the first place. Thoughts of your own people hunting your friends with the intent to kill them. Fear that, despite your desire to keep them safe, your lack of knowledge and experience in the world outside of Haven would make that impossible.

You thought about the woman you killed yesterday. How she’d so tenderly and earnestly called you her Prophet just moments before you snuck up behind her and ended her life.

You wondered if you too were now an apostate. If the Seraphites had found the bodies of Emily and her men and assumed you were dead, or if they somehow knew that you betrayed them all the very moment you were given the chance.

You wondered if your mother knew what you had done. If she would be punished for your sins.

You thought about Abby, hoping that your faith in her was not misplaced. Hoping that your attraction to her hadn’t clouded your judgment.

This was crazy. All of it. It was too much.

You had tossed everything and everyone you’ve ever known aside, thrown the first twenty years of your life to the wind like it meant nothing at all, and run off into the forest with a Wolf without a second thought. And now that you, Yara, and Lev were finally (seemingly) not in immediate danger, you had time to think things through. Contemplate what you’d done and try to figure out where it left you.

By your own hand, your life had been irreparably changed forever. It was done. There was no undoing it. No going back.

You would stay with Lev and Yara. You would stay with Abby if that’s what she wanted.

But where would you go? It wasn’t safe for any of you to stay here.

That wasn’t a question you could answer. You didn’t know of anywhere else. You wouldn’t know how to find a place that was safe.

All of these thoughts bombarded your mind at once, taking turns at the forefront. Contradicting emotions swirled, adding to the chaos.

There was a sadness, a sense of loss for the people you had always belonged to.

Guilt and shame. Two feelings that were not at all foreign to you, but you had never felt as strongly as you did now.

A lightness. A happiness. Almost a thrill. A hopeful nervousness for the freedom you had claimed for yourself, the agency you had uncovered, and the possibility of what was to come.

Sadness, again, for the mother you would miss, and the realization that you had already been missing her for a very long time.

Frustration—simmering anger—for your childhood that was stolen and the shame that did not originate within yourself. The unrelenting voices that lived in your head, weighing in on every thought and critiquing every action. But those voices were not your own. You would take your dagger and cut their presence from your mind, carefully carving them out of your head and disposing of them yourself if you could.

And, amongst everything else taking up space inside of you, demanding your attention, it felt stupid and frivolous and wasteful, but you couldn’t keep Abby from your thoughts. She kept appearing, in the middle of it all. This was something that you truly did not have time for and should not be putting energy toward.

But you had never felt intrinsically drawn to someone in the way you were drawn to her…

Behind you, you could hear slow, heavy breaths coming from either end of the couch. You were glad that Lev and Yara were getting some rest. You’d do your best to make sure they got their fill of it this time.

You got up quietly, trying not to disturb them but feeling like you needed to move. You shook out your arms, rolled your neck around, wiggled your fingers, stretched your legs.

Honestly, you wanted run. Or hit something. Or scream. Loudly and for a long time. Until you ran out of air and your voice was ragged.

But you didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, you went to look for Abby.

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“Seriously? You’re telling me Isaac’s top Scar killer just… turned over a new leaf? Decided to befriend and help three Scars?” Mel was staring into Abby’s soul, her words dripping in disbelief.

Abby had found her and Owen upstairs, in the same room that had once housed the boat man’s skeleton and the couple’s Christmas stockings (not at the same time, of course).

Owen was angry. Exactly what she had done to earn his anger, she couldn’t say. He held a jar of his homemade moonshine. A jar that was somewhere between three-quarters and one half full. Abby assumed it had been filled to the top just a few minutes ago.

He had apparently decided to be a silent, brooding drunk tonight, so Mel had been the one to interrogate her.

Abby tried to explain everything, albeit keeping things pretty vague. She didn’t want to give them too much information about you specifically, and she didn’t want them to get the wrong idea about you, so she made sure to omit the part where you nearly gutted her. And the part where you were the new Scar Prophet that Isaac was after.

Mel wasn’t buying the part where Abby simply had a change of heart.

She shot Owen a cautious look before she said, “Abby, do you—I thought you might—Is it possible that you’re…” Mel stopped, gathering her thoughts, trying to find the best way to word it. “It’s not… like… a problem that she’s a woman. It’s just… it is kind of a big deal that she’s a Scar—”

“Abby isn’t into a fucking Scar,” Owen interjected, his knuckles white around the mouth of the jar. “And she’s not fucking gay.”

Then he started chugging the jar’s contents, forcing down swallow after painful swallow.

The women were both silent for a second, surprised by the anger in his words.

Abby didn’t know what to say. She knew she was into you—and she’d be lying if she said that wasn’t at least part of the reason why she was helping you and your friends—but she had never considered if that made her gay.

She honestly didn’t really care to label herself as anything either way. It felt stupid—in the honest-to-god post-apocalyptic hellscape that they lived in, where they had been engaged in a never-ending war since they were kids—to care about that kind of thing.

Why should it matter—when her family was dead, her friends were constantly in danger, and there were enemies closing in from every angle—if she was romantically or sexually interested in men or women or both? Wasn’t that almost guaranteed to be the least important detail at any given moment? And why should she waste any of her time or energy trying to define herself in that way?

This was all really new to her. She hadn’t really let herself be interested in anyone since Owen, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she had ever been into him for the right reasons. Again, she remembered how uncomfortable it made her feel to kiss him, to be touched by him…

She couldn’t imagine that it would feel like that if you touched her. And just the fact that she hoped one day she’d find out was probably telling enough.

So maybe, in the Old World, people would’ve called Abby a lesbian. Maybe she would’ve identified with that title if things were different, if her life was lower stakes, and if she’d had more time to explore herself and her interests.

What-ifs didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here now. You were with her—and she needed to figure out a plan of how to proceed from here—so she could make sure to keep it that way. She could figure out the rest later.

Mel was the first to speak, annoyed, but addressing him calmly, like she was talking to a rabid animal. “Owen—”

He didn’t even let her get a word in.

“No. This is bullshit! Abby—” He looked past Mel to meet Abby’s gaze, insistent. “I’m going to Santa Barbara to find the Fireflies. If you’re smart, you’ll ditch the Scars and come with me.”

Mel slammed her hands on the table, causing both Abby and Owen to jump. “What the hell do you mean, you’re going to Santa Barbara?! We are going to Santa Barbara!” They weren’t used to seeing violent outbursts from Mel. She was the queen of passive aggression, but she rarely lost her cool. “What is wrong with you, Owen? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? This is all so seriously fucked up.” She turned away from them, clenching her fists at her sides, looking like she might cry. Or hit something. Or both.

But for the first time in years, Abby wasn’t on the receiving end of her disdain.

Guess all she had to do for her old friend to stop seeing her as a threat was get entangled with the Scar Prophet. No big deal.

Owen, in a moment of clarity, seemed to realize how huge of an asshole he was being to the mother of his child. He set down his jar, stood, and walked over to Mel, putting his hands on her hips and pulling her into him, her back pressed against his front. He was swaying on his feet, his cheeks flushed, hands clumsy. If he hadn’t been drunk before, he definitely was now. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. We are going to Santa Barbara. Of course it’s we. Hell, the Scars can come too for all I care. We’ll make it a party.”

Abby rolled her eyes at his quick switch-up and turned to go. Clearly this conversation wasn’t going anywhere productive tonight, with Owen drunk, Mel upset, and all of them exhausted beyond belief.

There was a creak by the door, and all three of them turned to look, Owen’s reaction far more delayed than Abby and Mel’s.

You stood there in your long white dress, hesitant to come in. Shy, having clearly interrupted a tense conversation.

Abby wondered how long you’d been standing there unnoticed. Her instinct was to meet you in the doorway and take you back to bed, away from Owen’s rude drunkenness and Mel’s inquisitive eyes.

“Hey! Scar! How the hell are ya? Come join us! We were just talking about sunny California. Ever been?” Owen pulled away from Mel and plopped back down on the couch, finding his jar again.

“Umm…” You looked to Abby for guidance, but she was just as unsettled as you. “No. I haven’t… Sorry, I was just looking for Abby.”

“Yeah, I bet you were,” he mumbled under his breath. Abby wasn’t sure if you caught that, but she wasn’t interested in having you hear any more of this.

“Let’s just go,” she said to you, moving toward where you still stood in the doorway.

“No! Come! Sit! Let’s talk,” Owen insisted, slapping the spot next to him on the couch.

You gave Abby another hesitant look before walking past her to join Owen. Mel sighed and lowered herself into a nearby chair. When it became clear to her that retreating with you wasn’t an option right now, Abby walked back over. She stood right across from the couch so she could see you, leaned against the wall behind her with her arms crossed over her chest.

You sat next to Owen, although not so close, putting as much distance between you as possible.

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. Abby wanted to punch him.

All of this was out of character for Owen, but she knew that he was always kind of unpredictable when he got drunk. With everything that had happened and emotions running so high, everyone really should just be going to sleep.

With that in mind, Abby would continue to stand nearby until you were ready to leave. She wouldn’t let things get out of hand.

“So… Scar—”

“Seraphite,” Abby corrected him. He scoffed and took another swig.

You smiled softly at her, looking grateful.

“Scar,” he said again. “Can I perhaps interest you in some hooch? Made it myself.” He offered up the jar for you to take, tilting it towards you with unsteady hands.

“No,” Abby immediately answered on your behalf. “She does not want any of your hooch.”

“Well give the girl a chance to answer,” he slurred. “What? Your little girlfriend can’t speak for herself? She can’t make her own decisions?”

You glanced back and forth between him and her, reaching for the open jar of clear liquid, properly baited by his taunting words.

Abby tried to remember that Owen was her friend—her best friend—and that he wasn’t usually like this.

“What is… hooch?” you asked, staring down into the glass jar suspiciously.

“It’s moonshine,” Abby said. When that didn’t clear things up for you, she added, “Alcohol.”

“Like wine?” you asked, tentatively sniffing it.

Owen laughed. Abby nodded, “Kind of, but it’s much stronger. Seriously, you won’t like it.”

There was a flash of something that looked like defiance in your eyes, offense taken at the idea that you wouldn’t be able to handle something that others could.

You put the jar to your lips and tilted it back enough to take in a generous mouthful.

Abby watched as your eyes went wide and you struggled to swallow it. Honestly, she was impressed that you didn’t immediately spit it out. You managed to choke it down before breaking out in a harsh coughing fit.

Owen laughed, accepting the jar as you shoved it back into his hands. Your eyes watered as you tapped on your sternum, taking a second to regain the ability to speak.

“You made that?” you wheezed in disbelief.

“Yep!”

“On purpose?”

Abby laughed at that, leaning back against the wall again once she was convinced that you weren’t dying.

“Hey, that’s prime hooch! You should be thanking me right now.” Owen took his own swig of it, lounging back against the couch with his arm resting along the back.

“Thank you?” You squinted your eyes but tried to be polite.

“I was kidding, princess. You don’t have to thank me.”

Abby, again, resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

“So,” Owen began, “tell me. How is it that you’re a Scar… but you’re not scarred?” He chuckled to himself, as if he had made a joke.

Your eyes shot to meet Abby’s, clearly unprepared to answer that question.

“Not every Seraphite has facial scars,” you said, keeping things vague.

“Every Scar I’ve ever seen does.”

“You’ve seen me, haven’t you?” you shot back.

Abby let out a surprised laugh. Owen clenched his jaw.

“Every Scar has face scars. It’s like your defining thing. It’s why we call you Scars.” He was adamant, unyielding. And the playful mask was starting to slip back into anger. Abby could tell this wasn’t going to end well.

“Well I guess you don’t know as much about Seraphites as you thought you did.” You were frustrated now, pressing yourself further into the far end of the couch to put more distance between the two of you.

Owen opened his mouth with a rebuttal, but Abby jumped in. “Lay off, Owen.”

He threw his hands up in surrender, leaning back against the brown cushions. “Fine, fine. Whatever. Forgive me for having questions. Fuck me, I guess. I’ve just never seen a hot Scar befo—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mel was on her feet. “Alright. That’s it. You’re done.” She had been sitting silently up until then, ready to intervene if things got out of hand, just as Abby had been. Apparently, Owen calling you hot was where she drew the line.

Abby was glad Mel was saying something. Because if things had gone much further, she really might’ve hit him.

“Get up,” Mel instructed firmly, standing over him. “You’re going to bed.” He let her take the jar out of his hands and, with much effort, pushed himself up off the couch and started walking toward the door. Mel was right behind him, hands hovering on either of his sides in case he lost his balance. He was grumbling under his breath the whole way, like a toddler whose bedtime was being enforced.

Abby watched them go.

Once they were out of sight, she looked down at you, only to find that you were already looking at her.

“Sorry,” she spat out. “About him. He’s not usually like that.”

You nodded, but you didn’t seem sure that you believed her.

“So you guys are… friends?”

Abby cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. We’ve known each other for years. Joined the WLF together. Me, Owen, Mel, and a few others.”

You considered this for a second before responding. “Where were you before?”

“Salt Lake City,” she said, looking down at her feet. “Utah.” Abby didn’t know if that would mean anything to you.

“Mel doesn’t seem to like you very much,” you said, observant, not trying to offend. Abby smiled, despite the meaning behind your words. You added, “And Owen doesn’t seem to like me.” You stated it like it was a fact, like it was neither good nor bad, just true.

“He’ll get over it. He’s just drunk.” Abby didn’t know if that was true, but she wanted to comfort you in that moment, not that you actually seemed to care all that much about Owen’s opinion of you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You were looking up at her, eyes wide and vulnerable.

Anything, Abby thought. Out loud, she said, “Sure.”

She pushed away from the wall and came to sit next to you on the couch, filling the spot where Owen had been.

“Why do you people keep calling me princess?” you asked. Abby laughed quietly under her breath, turning her body to face you.

“I don’t know. There’s something about you that’s very princess-like I guess.”

You made a face at her. She smiled wider.

“It’s not a bad thing. You just come across as soft. Delicate. I don’t know… Graceful.”

“I am not delicate,” you said, defensive.

“I know.”

“I’ve killed.”

“I saw.” Abby was being serious, although she did find the conversation amusing. “You’re very skilled with a knife.”

You nodded, satisfied with her response, and fully turned to face Abby. “And what does hot mean? Why did he call me hot?”

“Oh—” Abby stuttered, “Uh—He meant… He was saying that you’re very pretty.”

“Oh.” You considered this, eyes wandering away. “Earlier he said I look like The Lord of the Rings.”

Abby smiled again. There was something about you that felt like it might’ve been taken straight from the high fantasy genre.

“Do you know what that is?” she asked.

“Yes. Sort of. I asked Mel. She said it was a film about a magical land. With fairies and stuff.”

“They were books first.”

“Have you read them?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you read a lot of books?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I try to read as much as I can. Whatever’s available.”

You nodded, thinking, letting the conversation die down.

After a moment, “Abby?”

“Hmm?” she hummed. She liked the way you said her name. Just the sound of it made her heart beat a little bit faster.

“Owen also called me your girlfriend.” You were studying her face, trying to read her reaction.

“Yeah. He did.” Abby said, looking into your inquisitive eyes.

“Does that just mean friend? Or is it something else?”

“He was just trying to piss me off.”

“So it does mean something else?” Your eyes were on her lips now, and you were ever so slightly leaned forward. Almost subconsciously.

“It doesn’t matter,” Abby said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

She was pushing you away, and she didn’t know why. She could’ve answered that question so differently. Maybe she should’ve.

Abby wanted you. And she was almost certain that you felt the same way. At the very least, there was a curiosity. A hesitant attraction.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was wrong. That anything with you would be something she wasn’t good enough for.

Something she didn’t deserve.

Something she would ruin if given the chance.

So tonight, she didn’t give herself that chance.

Was that noble or cowardly? She wasn’t sure.

You pulled away, turning to face forward as you let out a long breath, puffing out your cheeks.

“I’m tired,” you said, standing. “And I should check on Yara and Lev.”

“Yeah.” Abby nodded. “Okay.”

She remained in place, ready to mentally beat herself up some more and stew in her thoughts alone for a while.

You cleared your throat lightly, swaying on your feet. “Umm… I’m not sure that I can find my way back to the room. Can you… please—?”

“Oh.” Abby hopped to her feet. “Okay, yeah. I’ll… I guess I’ll go with you.”

She avoided eye contact, leading the way into the dark hallway.

#the wolf and the prophet #my writing #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic

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