#oh i just KNOW he would rock a fucking top hat.

[ssspringroll]

ok so maybe i altered his vibe more than i usually do but i got possessed so dont worry about it ok.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Needle Little Love - Charles Leclerc x Ferrari! Reader

Summary: When you’re announced as Ferrari’s newest driver, fans love the budding friendship between you and Charles, especially when he adopts your penchant for crochet puns. Netflix expose that there’s more to the story. 

Warnings: Slightly suggestive content. Swearing. Fluff

2023-2024 timeline. Pinterest pics.

Requested: Yes by @rebelwrites. Find the full request here

A/N: There's a blurb halfway down

F1 Masterlist

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its_ynln just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, olliebearman and others 

its_ynln chronicles of yarnia 🧶

1,609 comments 

francisca.cgomes okay but i’m gonna need that top in all colours please

→ its_ynln let me get your measurements at zandvoort 

user1 what is charles doing here

→ its_ynln i’m plagued by his brother and we both like to go zoom?

→ arthur_leclerc just for that, i’m not coming to your celebration party in zandvoort. i’ll go party with charles

→ its_ynln don’t want you there anyway 

→ oscarpiastri @/charles_leclerc the girls are fighting again 

→ user2 i love how they’re just assuming she’ll win 

lilymhe i love my pillow! thank you thank you thank you 🌼

→ alex_albon she literally carries it everywhere and i’m not allowed to touch it 

user3 we love how racing is just her side hobby 

jackdoohan day 116 of asking you to make me my own dinosaur 

→ its_ynln i can make a voodoo doll of you if you don’t stop pestering me

→ jackdoohan i’ll be glad when you’re gone

�� user4 gone where! 

→ user5 well she is currently leading the f2 championship, and they won't let her back 

user6 drop the patterns please, babe

user7 i love how half the people here are because of her crochet, not because she drives

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f1 just posted

liked by ferraridriveracademy, oscarpiastri and others 

f1 welcome to the team @/its_ynln we look forward to seeing you on the grid in the new year 

5,533 comments

its_ynln what can i say, it’s knot just another hobby

→ user8 babe, stick to crochet. stand up comedy is not for you 

ferraridriveracademy take good care of our girl 

→ scuderiaferrari thanks for letting us have her

charles_leclerc welcome to the team 😄

→ user9 why is this the blandest welcome ever 

→ user10 someone feels threatened

→ arthur_leclerc *trying to contain his excitement

francisca.cgomes this is the best news ever. will you teach me to crochet?

→ pierregasly because stealing my girlfriend over summer break wasn’t bad enough?

→ its_ynln are you still salty that she let me touch her boobs

→ user11 i know it was to measure her chest for clothes but still.. 

scuderiaferrari are we going to have to pr train you? @/its_ynln

→ liamlawson30 yes

→ alex_albon yes 

→ jackdoohan yes

→ its_ynln why am i being attacked by twice the amount of people now? 

arthur_leclerc thank god she’s not my problem anymore 

→ its_ynln i’ll always be your problem, little leclerc 

→ oscarpiastri oh fuck, she’s my problem now

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, pierregasly and others  

charles_leclerc winter break spent somewhere sunny  

2,316 comments

scuderiaferrari come back, we miss you 

user1 um, whose hand is he reaching for in that first pic 

→ user2 idk but we should be saying thank you for dressing him in that shirt 

its_ynln is your skin ferrari red yet 

→ charles_leclerc no, i keep getting slathered in sun cream :(

→ arthur_leclerc factor 50? 

→ user3 i love that she’s bullying him before she’s even been his teammate on track

user4 this shirt looks similar to one yn posted a few weeks ago??

→ user5 and the hat!!

→ user6 omg how cute would it be if charles was asking her to crochet him some clothes 

→ user7 we love a supportive teammate

landonorris rocking the bucket hat, mate. think i can get one in papaya? 

→ charles_leclerc i’ll hook you up

oscarpiastri i miss you, dad

→ its_ynln i’m not babysitting next year. just putting that out there ahead of time 

→ charles_leclerc not even if i ask nicely?

→ its_ynln maybe if you let me win

→ charles_leclerc 🤔🤨

user8 why are we skipping past the sneaky soft launch?

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2024

“You know, we both have driver’s rooms for this sort of thing,” you breathed, giggling when Charles’ facial hair tickled your neck. 

His mouth sucked gently on the pulse point thrumming beneath his tongue, tracing kisses from your ear down to your collarbone. The stack of worn tyres cushioned your back as he pressed your harder against them when you reached around to pinch his backside. 

“Oi, I’m talking to you.” 

“I’m sorry, mon ange, but you looked so good when you were giving that interview. And you kept laughing-”

“Oh, so it’s not that I’m so irresistible that you couldn't wait until we were safely in the garage. It’s that you were jealous.” You raised an eyebrow at him, unable to fight the smile at his rougish grin. 

“You are irresistible,” he murmured, hands snaking around your waist to pull you flush against him. “Why else would I be making out with you in an alley behind the motorhome?”

“Because you’re a horndog.” 

You and Charles had been dating for the past year, having met after he caught you winding up his younger brother one race weekend. Ferrari had been eyeing you up all year, asking the Monagesque what he thought of you, prompting him to pay closer attention. Prior to you signing your contract, you’d had to disclose your relationship to Fred Vasseur. Whilst the senior members of the team were aware of your more-than-teammates status, the majority of the paddock were in the dark. Both of you wished to keep the relationship under wraps until your rookie year in F1 had passed, reducing speculation that Charles was the only reason you got your seat. Sneaking around the motorhome was a lot safer than making out behind tyre stacks, but Charles didn’t care at this moment in time. 

“You going to be nice and let me win today?” He teased, nibbling at your lower lip. 

“I think you mean, am I going to let you massage my feet after I win? I won here last year.”

“Yes, yes, bow down to you.”

“Well, I do like you on your knees.” 

Grinning, Charles captured your lips with his once more. Tongue swiping against your bottom lip, he groaned against you when your tongue met his. Hands snaking into his hair, you tugged gently on the soft strands, enjoying the whimper you pulled from his lips. He tilted his hips, pressing himself against you. 

“The things you do to me.”

A loud cough - more of a throat clearing - tore the two of you apart. Wide eyed and panting, you both turned in horror to look at the misfortune person who stumbled across you. Fred Vasseur stood at the end of the alleyway, shaking his head at his two drivers. It was bad enough watching them make heart eyes at each other during data reviews but this. Behind him stood a cameraman and a mic guy, mouths agape at their luck. Drive to Survive would be flooded with viewers once they teased this. Breaking News: Ferrari drivers caught locking lips in secret tryst. 

“I’ve got Netflix following me around today.” Fred said bluntly, staring you both down. 

“Oh crap.”

“Yeah.” 

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next day

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by its_ynln, arthur_leclerc and others

charles_leclerc you could say we’re a close knit bunch

4,416 comments

its_ynln i fell for you hook, yarn and stitcher 

user8 not charles adopting her crochet puns 

jackdoohan so he gets a toothless keychain and i still don’t get my dinosaur? 

→ liamlawson30 that’s because he’s sleeping with her

→ jackdoohan if that’s the price...

scuderiaferrari finally. we were getting sick and tired of archiving all the pics we took of you both being cute. now we can post! 

→ arthur_leclerc please don’t. it’s bad enough seeing it in person for the past two years. i don’t want it on my timeline

→ user9 two years! they’ve been together two years! 

alex_albon can’t believe you posted a photo of her in a nice dress and didn't even give her photo creds

→ its_ynln he’s intimidated by my raw talent 

→ oscarpiastri i watched you flip over the handles of your bike the other day 

→ its_ynln raw talent

→ charlesleclerc @/its_ynln when was this? why didn’t you tell me? are you okay? 

georgrussell63 did she beat you?

→ charles_leclerc i let her win

→ landonorris yeah, you’ve been saying that all season, mate

→ its_ynln you got a nice consolation price out of it tho

→ arthur_leclerc ew!

user10 i love that charles has posted this and yn hasn’t mentioned anything about him lol 

→ user11 her entire insta is the two sides of her personality; car and yarn. can't have a man ruining the aesthetic

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A huge thank you to @rebelwrites for the request. I hope this lives up to expectations

Requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my Masterlist :)

[hero-of-fortune]

here’s what i noticed in the NEW ZELDA GAME ANNOUNCEMENT WOOOOO

Sassy little guy. Also that sword…. Lokomo sword??? Could this be new hyrule?

idk. I’ve never played spirit tracks :(

Oh that mf is a ganon, probably not a ganondorf. Hmmm. Downfall timeline? Idk. It would be so funny if lu fandom decided to lump this one in with legend’s games. Guys… he doesn’t need anymore trauma

Let’s go! This was a fucking smart move homie link he’s already earned a spot in my heart as one of my genius scrunkies for shooting the crystal

YEAHHHHHHHH PLAYABLE ZELDAAAAA SHE LOOKS SO CUTEEEEE i know we’ve had ‘playable zelda’ before in spirit tracks and whatnot, but we’ve never had a ZELDA based game. (At least recently lmao)

(I see a bombable wall) and a really big castle! BIG CASTLE TOWN??? MINISH CAP CASTLE TOWN???? COME BACK TO ME BABY\

OKAY GUYS. Top right corner. Consider: kokiri village. if they bring the kokiri back i will scream so loud. I know it’s probably deku scrub houses because they’re also in the trailer, but let a boy dream

oh no :(((( he left his cloak behind poor baby

Okay so the triforce is back. Like really. And look at that little fairy what a scrunky duncky! I love her already

ZELDA IS WEARING LINK’S CLOAK. GUYS I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE IF I SHIP THEM. Look at herrrr also tri is massive. That is a head sized fairy.

Nothing to say but car on the roof. We got fuckin cats in zelda back. Please let us interact with them nintendooooo

THAT’S A GERUDO TOWNNNNN MASSIVE WINNNN!!!! Look at their houses they’re so cute

Um. Yeah. Ummm. @flarree predicted the ‘nice monsters that are on your side’ thing. (Go check out their au it’s really cool) i love this idea so much but i’m also a little sad… i hope they at least give zelda a bow

That is 100% a sheikah right there. Is that impa???? Please let impa be an old lady who kicks ass for her grandbaby. Also why is she fighting the soldiers lmao. Is this a alttp thing where the soldiers get brainwashed?

River and ocean zora. Yes babes im fed. You fed me nintendo it was good soup

Deku scrub selling potions. As he should. Im so glad theyre back it’s been too long babes. Give him his little hat though

GREAT DEKU TREEEE OUR FATHERRRR look at him <3 he looks a whole lot like oot gdt. Okay maybe it’s not adult timeline bc it looks nothing like wind waker gtd

Some sort of rock creature coming out of the ground? A boss? Idk we’ll see. Maybe he’s just a dude.

Other things: uhhh i don’t think we saw any mention of any sort of dungeons, which is kind of odd. Unless they slipped my mind. Huh. Maybe that last pic is a dungeon boss. I’m really excited for this one ngl. AND IT’S COMING OUT THIS YEAR????? THIS YEAR???? NINTENDO REALLY???? SEPTEMBER???? DUDE. Nintendo had officially fed me. Gooooood soup. Thanks

edit: yah there’s dungeons im blind lmaooo.

Also, i’m fairly certain it’s downfall timeline. The geography of hyrule, zelda’s dress, ganon’s design, link’s outfit, the presence of the triforce. I’m so glad the triforce is back after being absent in botw/totk!

[the-kr8tor]

hiii katy. i am officially obsessed with cowboy!hobie and i'm pretty sure i've read everything anyone has ever wrote about him at this point. so here i am asking for more. i have no thoughts - brain empty- but him using his lasso... so maybe? pretty please?

(hope you're having a magnificent day/night <3)

I'm glad you like cowboy! Hobie!! Thank you for requesting, I hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! reader

Word count: 1.5k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cowboy au, wild west au, cw suggestive, cw food mentions, cw blood and injury. FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The smoke from the campfire signals life from just under the cliff edge facing the raging rapids. Pink and orange hues illuminate the vast dusty plains of the west, tumbleweeds pass by with the blowing winds; and the quiet prevails with no one else but Hobie, his trusted horse, and hopefully you waiting under the belching grey smoke.

He fixes his hat on top of his head, piercings glimmering as he smirks triumphantly. Your cat and mouse chase has finally come to an end, all the running and hiding comes to a close when he spots your seated form next to the campfire. The fiery embers illuminate your features, shadows dancing on your pretty face, eyes shining under the destructive fire.

“I was waiting for you.” You flick your eyes over to his form, lips curling into an amused smile. “Your meal's getting cold.”

Hobie chuckles under his breath, the reins under his gloved hand tightens in his hold. “What's for supper?” His horse huffs, hoof kicking dirt and dust.

“Rabbit, specially caught for you. And some beans to remind you of your old country.” You stand up, dusting your pants.

He sucks in his teeth, eyes glancing over to the river nearby. “I don't miss the old country that much.” When his green eyes return over to you, you're sitting on your horse, grinning from ear to ear. His hands slowly reach for his lasso.

“Oh I'm sure you miss something.” You send him a flirty wink. “Me perhaps? Don't pretend you don't like the chase, Hobie.” Your horse neighs in agreement.

He smiles, a ghost of amusement flickering from his jade eyes. “You've had me runnin’ after you for about four months now, love. Sorry for not playin’ along today, just a bit tired is all.” He clicks his tongue to make his horse step closer to yours. His hand wraps around his lasso on his belt.

“Oh poor bounty hunter.” You coo sweetly.

“You know what happens next. You have to come with me, love.”

You feign a tired sigh, your grin says otherwise. “If you tried your luck tonight we would've done just that. Well, after dinner of course, I'm a romantic, you see.”

“I would have said yes but your three grand bounty makes me think twice.” Hobie tamps down a laugh, heat prickling his cheeks. He has found that you've had that effect on him. “You know me, job comes first.”

“That's too bad. Maybe on our next date then!” Rearing your horse, you make her kick the boiling pot, spilling its hot contents and the heated coal all over the ground, startling his poor horse. You leave him in the dust once again.

Hobie bites his lower lip to stop an excited guffaw from escaping. He follows quickly, right after he briefly calms his startled horse.

Wind nips at his cheeks as he jumps over broken down trees, dodges rocks and cliffs, and soon after, he sees your form in the distance. With victory already in his grasp, he takes his lasso, swinging it expertly over his head. Calculating his throw, he aims, lasso flying over head.

“Wha–!” The rope cinches around your torso, wrapping you in its rough hemp, making you fall off your horse harshly on the dusty ground. “Fuck! That hurt, Hobie!” Head throbbing, you hear footsteps running frantically towards you. Instead of meeting with the end of a pistol, you feel his warm hands gently hold you. “Ow. Was that necessary? I thought we had something going on, cowboy.”

Hobie takes his gloves off to examine your bleeding forehead. There's a cut just above your brow, but other than that, you're alright. He sighs in relief, hands still carefully holding you in place. If not for his lasso around you, you'd think your handsome bounty hunter actually cares for you.

“Sure, I'm alright, Hobie, nothing to be worried about.” You sarcastically say, one eye closed as blood ebbs from your cut down to your eyelids. “I just hit my head, no biggie—!” The second you meet with his worried eyes, you clamp down. Hands suddenly clammy, mouth turning dry, and stomach doing somersaults, you haven't seen him this close to you. His eyes are greener than anything you've ever seen, pools of the greenest of clovers; and face chiseled to perfection. He looks wonderous in this light. And surprisingly, he looks like he actually cares. “Shit.” You say under your breath, flirty exterior crumbling around his boots. Your voice wakes Hobie up from his lovestruck gaze.

He clears his throat, palms now hovering above your arms. “You look alright.”

Light lines up with his head, an orange halo appears, bathing him in its glow. “I think I have a concussion.” You swallow down your sudden bashfulness.

His brows furrowed, hand tentatively reaching for your chin to carefully check you again. “Does your head hurt?” His voice is soft, and his hand is warm and softer than you thought despite his callouses. You think it all adds to the mystery of the famous bounty hunter right in front of you.

His touch alone almost made you want to surrender. Almost.

You flutter your lashes, “do all the men back in England look just as good as you?”

Hobie lets out a chuckle. A simple act that has the butterflies in your stomach fly wildly. “Just a handful of us.”

“I'm lucky then.”

Hobie squeezes your chin, for a moment, a comfortable silence hangs in the air. You could sit there forever and just look at him. He feels the same way with his fingers brushing along your bottom lip. The river behind continues to flow, water crashing loudly against the rocky river beds just a jump away from the cliff behind you.

Suddenly, his horse neighs behind him. Popping the bubble of affection around the two of you. Hobie clears his throat, and you look away, flustered. He takes his hand off your chin to help you off your feet wordlessly. Tying the lasso around you, he keeps his hands to himself, or tries to as you watch him with your eyes that are practically shaped like hearts. A trait that is unheard of from a feared outlaw like yourself.

“I have to bring you in.” He sounds like he's trying to convince himself.

Arms bound to your sides, you tilt your head to meet with his downturned eyes. “D’you have to, hm, cowboy?”

Hobie straightens up, lifting your head up with his thumb pressing under your chin. He leans close, stealing the breath from your lungs. “I'm not a lawman. So I don't have to.”

You smile sweetly, “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

Hobie chuckles deeply. “But three grand is enticin’.”

“More enticing than me?”

Hobie inhales sharply, as if he's trying to restrain himself. From doing what? You suppose you have to find out.

He makes a move to walk away to grab your horse, but you stop him with your hands grabbing at his belt buckle, fingers wrapped around the cold metal as you yank him closer to you. Your arms might be bound, but your hands remain free to your sides.

“Why don't you answer my question, cowboy?”

Hobie's eyes flick over to your hand, heart thudding loudly in his chest as he bracelets his fingers around your wrist. His thumb brushes along your pulse point, feeling your heart sync with his own.

“Because you'd love my answer to that, love. But my debts won't.”

Leaning close, you reach his lips with your own floating dangerously close above it. Briefly, you both stand there, indulging in each other's presence. Feeling like you two are the only people left in the whole world. A life with you flashes in the back of his mind. And your vision fills with only him.

With pursed lips, you slowly let go of his belt buckle. One finger at a time. “Okay then.”

Hobie feels like you've stolen his heart right there and then. Fitting well with an outlaw. Hell, he'd even let you keep it since your heart is in his grasp too.

“‘Okay?’”

You shrug, backing away. “Yeah, okay.”

“Just like that?” His fingers linger on your skin for a second. You're a mystery to him, a mystery he'd like to get to know better.

“Mm-hmm, just like that.”

Hobie blinks, shaking off his doubts. “Stay there.”

“Yep, staying right here, cowboy. Not going anywhere.”

With him walking off towards your horse to hitch it with his own, you waste no time to run off towards the edge of the cliff.

“Shit!” Hobie scrambles to get to you as you jump off. His fingers graze the ropes, and you even have the audacity to wink at him as you plunge down towards the cold water. He yells after you, watching the water with his quickening heartbeat, waiting for you to resurface. “Fuck!” Starting to take off his hat and jacket, he prepares to jump after you. “Hold on!”

Before he could dive, he sees you waving at him as the currents carry you downstream. He sighs in relief, muscles relaxing, chuckling to himself.

“See you later, cowboy!” You yell at him, floating down like you're having the time of your life. Blowing a kiss at him, your eyes stayed on him whilst he watched you go until he's barely a dot in your vision.

He hears your horse gallop away, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. His horse nudges him with his snout, huffing and puffing at him. You've won once again.

“See you later, love.”

[thosefuzzywordfeelings]

i hope i'm not too late for the smutty weekend!!!! but i need to know how the boys (Steve, Baron and Gator) would react being caught/walked in on having sex

(also i love your writing)

Never EVER too late baby! I’ll write smut always in all fairness, i’m just a fan of alliteration ����🏽‍♀️✨

CW; exhibitionism, bar the first one the people catching you have no idea whats happening 🤍, handjob (m receiving), oral (f receiving), car sex, being caught ofc ✨

i’m into getting caught writing this one 😮‍💨

Gator;

The dirt track. Right underneath the willow tree tunnel. Meeting place with Gator when things got tough, boring, late, needy, heated, whatever. He’d pick you up in his SUV and take you there immediately, knowing you’d drop call him specifically twice and he’d be on his way for you.

For it to end up the same every time, windows steaming - keeping them shut in fear of anyone listening. Though as Gator bent you overloaded the middle console from the backseat, the noises falling from your mouth were often loud enough to hear through soundproof glass.

“You needed this, hm?” Gator grunted, pulling your ass back against his hips; fingernails indented into the folds between hips and thighs. You’d nod, moaning out a weak “yes, sir”. This would always make him pick up the pace, rocking the car and forcing you to balance your hands on the front seats just for stability. You’d feel it climbing, the perfect ache forming in your lower tummy and he knew it.

“Can feel you baby, you close?” He’d breathe out, grinding his hips forward. With a quick tug of your hair, he pulled your head up and you immediately gasped.

“Yeah? Right there?” Gator grunted.

“Gator stop - it’s -“

“Not too much baby, you can do it -“ He carried on, too lost in you. But you reached back and pushed him off you, sitting in the furthest corner of the backseat.

“What’s wrong? You were right there -“

He quickly shut up when you pointed towards the windscreen, the low headlights illuminating none other than Roy Tillman, hat and all. He stood relaxed, hands on his hips as he waited for the two of you to realise.

“Shit. Shitshitshitshit.” Gator mumbled, pulling up his camo pants and scrambling out of the backseat door, hoping he could either make it up to his dad or at least save you from a lecture. After what looked to be the most awkward conversation ever, surprisingly Roy looked towards the car, tipping his hat and walking away. Thank god.

Steve;

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were going to hear the pitchy ding of the door bell, scared that a customer would walk in and see your head thrown back against the counter. Supposedly if they did, they’d have no idea that their video store sales assistant was tongue deep in his girlfriend. On his knees and whining against her clit as his arms wrapped around her thighs.

“What if -“

“Nobody’s coming in, honey.” He’d pull off just to say before diving back in again, somehow hungrier than before. He could stay there forever, blocking out the world and only tuning into the sounds tumbling from your lips. His mouth left you again, hands spinning your hips so your top half faced and collapsed against the Family Video desktop.

“Now you can keep look out while you come.” He growled, shuffling so he had his back against the counter so he could find comfort in your core again. Your hands gripped the edge of the counter as you felt that knot grow again, hips grinding back against his face.

With each ‘mhm’ he muttered against you, you throbbed in response. And just as that crescendo reached its highest peak, you saw her. Robin, jumping out of Vickie’s car and waving her off as she headed right towards the store.

“Steve - Steve - stop, Robin’s here, Robin’s coming - fuck -“ You mumbled nervously, trying to buck away from his mouth but he just chuckled.

“So act naturally then, Miss 4.0 Drama major.” Steve whispered cockily, mouth wrapping around your clit again as you tried to regain composure.

“Oh hey, didn’t expect you to be here so late, ignore me - Keith said he’d called nine times and no answer so I had to get my ass outta bed and come and stock check quickly. Do you know where Steve even is?” Robin rambled as she usually did, not even looking over at you as she headed straight to the first row of tapes and checking them.

You were already on the brink, but as Steve slipped two fingers inside you. “I - I uh, he was in the break - break room when I got here, I’ve just been - waiting -“

You could feel Steve smirking against you as he curled his fingers harder inside you, bringing you right over the edge as you closed your eyes and let it happen. Robin stood up.

“Oh, I’ll check. You okay?” Robin asked kindly, looking at you for a moment as you gritted your teeth and smiled softly. She headed towards the break room and Steve got up with a smug smirk, lips glistening as he giggled and wiped your mess away with the back of his hand. You fixed your skirt, hopping up on the counter and giggling with him. Robin came back out of the break room confused, sighing in relief when she saw Steve.

“Idiot, Keith’s been calling and calling you - why do you bother coming in if you don’t do anything?” Robin sighed as she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed towards the front door again.

“I got caught up.”

Baron;

Needy. Baron’s new middle name. He’d call you throughout the day, mumbling that he was just ‘checking in’ but he wanted to know where you were and how long it would be till he could see you again.

Now here you were, pressed against his chest as his back was against an incredibly wide oak tree on the outskirts of town, civilisation a short bike ride away, but away nonetheless. His head was back against the bark, brown eyes looking up at the sunlight through the trees as he felt like he was ascending.

“Still with me, darling?” You’d say softly as your lips carried on pressing to his neck, one of your hands cupping his face and the other stroking the outline of his arousal through his shorts.

“Mhm.” He mumbled sweetly, tilting his head back down to meet your gaze, his eyes hooded immediately as he saw how beautiful you looked in the afternoon sun. Mischievous twinkles in your irises as you smiled almost innocently, before your hands were unzipping the shorts and pulling them his mid-thigh.

“Oh honey - are you sure? We’re, well we’re outside and -“

“I can stop, I thought that’s what you wanted, you said on the phone and I quote, ‘if I don’t feel your hands on me, I’m riding this bike into Ron’s shop window’ end quote.” You’d say with a giggle, halting your movements.

“I did - I did say that, you’re right,” He mumbled, his drawl thicker as he grew more and more needy for you now he knew you met him just to give him the pleasure he begged for, “I want it- want you.”

Pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, you pulled away only centimetres, cupping your hand underneath your mouth and spitting crudely into your palm before gripping his cock softly.

“Now just focus on me, okay darling?” You’d reassure him, matching his smile as he nodded eagerly back, his knees almost going slack as you stroked him. Unfortunately for the pair of you, the intense and thrilling moment came to a halt as you heard a dog barking loudly, followed by the sounds of crunching leaves and women’s shrill voices cackling.

“Shit - who - why is there -“

“Baron, pull your damn pants up and kiss me.” You whispered hastily, wiping your hands on your clothes and almost screaming with shock as Baron did what you said and spun you round; your back hitting the bark as he kissed you hard.

“Ow fuck-“ You giggled against his lips, kissing him back as you opened your eyes and looked over his shoulder. A familiar face with a friend walked past with her dog and the two women clocked you both.

“Oh young lovers - Baron?” One of the ladies spoke, pulling her dog on its leash closer to her and picking it up into her arms. Baron turned halfway around, hyperaware of the heavy erection straining in his shorts as he smiled and waved haphazardly at the ladies.

“Hi. Hi Biscuit.” Baron mumbled awkwardly as he waved at the dog. Nudging his elbow into your ribs playfully as you giggled at the situation.

“You got yourself a lovely girl there, huh? I remember those days.” The two ladies stood not that far away from you both as they started reminiscing together. Baron turned his head back to look at you before looking down at his…predicament, before the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, shouting a ‘we’ll catch y’all later’ to the women and running away, Baron almost limping with the need for relief.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

maroon (j.h.s.)

a/n: every goddamn piece of this is self-indulgent but as jordan always says, is that not what fanfiction is meant to be? i’d be more than willing to write more for these two but i’m also afraid this is what’s going to get me voted off the top gun island so goodbye i’m going to go hide under a rock until further notice. 

pt. ii

summary: (Kazansky!reader) This is the way had always been. 

Hangman flirted with anything and everything, bedding a new women every night and leaving them the next morning. 

So when he picks up flirting with you, you know he’s just in it for the trouble, a way to get under your Dad’s skin. He’s just in it for the scarlet color of your cheeks every time he calls you “darling”. He’s just after you because you’re young and new, fresh meat for him. You know you’d never let your guard down enough to be wooed by this man, no matter how good it feels to have those sea-glass eyes on you. 

And that’s how it goes. Hangman flirting with you every night while you worked, under the watchful eye of his team mates, with nothing more ever coming of it. 

Until one night it changes, all because of a cowboy hat. 

partially inspired by taylor swift’s “maroon”

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist

warnings: age gap (of 11-ish years? but the specific years aren’t mentioned just that there is an age gap), implied/referenced sex, kissing, a heavy makeout, hickeys, i haven’t made out with anyone in two years, this is the closest to smut you will catch me writing, swearing, alcohol, Icemav but it’s a minor plot point, Maverick never pulled Rooster’s papers but he still went to UVA

word count: 2,885

His eyes track her across the bar, watching the way Bradshaw’s hands clap down on her shoulders, causing her to startle as she carries a crate. Even dressed in a plain black tee and jeans, a brown belt adorning her waist, he can’t help but admire how good she looks. 

He watches as she offers Bradshaw a forced smile, causing a frown to tug at the brunette’s lips. Ever the pair, Bradshaw cared for her in a way only a brother could. Bradshaw settles down at the bar as she begins to unload clean glasses into the bar in preparation for what would probably be a busy Saturday night. 

It’s futile for him to pretend he doesn’t remember the way she climbed into his lap the night before, straddling him, as he undid her belt in a flurry of passion, in vivid detail. 

He knows that hidden beneath the material of her shirt are bruises he left, always wanting to claim and mark what was his. 

The bell at the door of the Hard Deck rings, pulling him from remembering the night before any longer as he watches Admiral Kazansky and Captain Mitchell walk through the door. 

Sometimes, it baffled him that the two of them were married. Sometimes, he realized there was no one more perfect for them than the other. 

He watches the couple settle at the bar, talking with Rooster and the bartender, so clearly fond of both. 

“Hey, how come Admiral Kazansky’s so fond of Penny’s bartender?” 

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them as he leans up against his pool cue. Coyote lets out a half-laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Really?” 

He turns to his friend. “What?” 

Coyote shakes his head, turning away from him as he moves to take his shot. “Just can’t believe you’re so clueless.” 

“What?” 

Coyote finally straightens up, looking at him. “She’s his daughter.” 

He pales, looking to his friend closely for confirmation he’s not just fucking with him. He kind wishes he was, that Coyote’s hand would clap on his shoulder and say Nah, just kidding man, should’ve seen your face though.

His hands feels sweaty against his pool cue as a growing pit of dread forms in his stomach. Coyote frowns as he remains silent. “What?” 

“Oh, I fucked up.” He whispers, mostly to himself as he stumbles back, landing in one of the spare bar stools near them. 

Coyote follows, coming closer. “What did you do?” 

He lets go of his pool cue, Coyote grabbing it before it clangs to the ground as his hands move to rub over his face. “Oh, I’ve fucked up.” 

Coyote takes a half-step closer, nudging his shoulder. He looks up to meet the somewhat suspecting look on his best friend’s face. 

“What did you do?”

-

The first time you meet Jake Seresin, it’s a sunny Wednesday afternoon in May. It’s been eleven days since you graduated college, packing up your whole life and moving back home to San Diego, not that anyone’s counting. 

The bell above the door of the Hard Deck jingles as he walks through it, pulling off his shades as his eyes adjust to the the dimmer lighting of the bar. He saunters towards the bar, pulling your attention from where you’re wiping down the bar. He settles on the bar stool in front of you, offering you his trade-mark, award-winning smile (one that you’re sure he’s been told is dazzling).

Penny’s just gone back to the office to grab something and you take a deep breath, looking up at him. He’d be the first customer you served... ever. 

“How can I help you?” You ask. 

He ignores the question, pulling a toothpick form his pocket and putting it in his mouth. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, a moment he doesn't miss. “Admiring the view?” 

You shake your head, clearing any thoughts from you brain. “I assume you came in here for a drink.”

He shrugs, setting an arm on the bar to lean up against it even though he’s sat. “Who knows? Maybe I came in here to talk to the pretty new bartender.” 

“The pretty new bartender is off-limits Hangman.” Penny calls from the office. 

“And why is that?” He calls back. 

She appears in the doorway of the office, causing you to look behind you. “Because she’s 22 and fresh out of college.” 

“I’ve always liked them young.” He says, eyes raking over you. “Fresh out of college, you say?” 

The bell rings again, pulling your attention to the door. “Don’t even think about it, Bagman.” Bradley calls from the front door, striding towards the two of you. 

His eyes don’t leave your body, still looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s seen all day. “Oh, but I am Bradshaw.” 

Bradley comes in to view, nudging his shoulder. “Stay away from my little sister Bagman.” 

That causes the blonde’s eyes to fly up from where they had settled on your chest, rapidly moving between you and Bradley. “You serious Bradshaw?” 

“We’re not related.” You answer, finding your voice as two other (you’re assuming) pilots approach the bar. You distantly recognize them as Bob and Phoenix, friends of Bradley’s from the uranium enrichment plant mission that brought him back to San Diego permanently. 

The blonde seems to breathe a sigh of relief, body physically sagging with it. 

“We might as well be.” Bradley answers, tossing you a look. “Our Dads are friends.” 

You snort. “Sure. Friends.” 

You recognize a couple of the other pilots that approach the bar from pictures Brad’s sent you, from the Facebook posts Mav makes. From the phone calls with your Dad, talking about the new group of pilots permanently stationed at North Island. From the stories of the legends who had nearly died together, who had all come home. 

Bradley rolls his eyes as his friends join him. “You know what I mean. We go way back.” 

“Will I ever be able to get rid of you?” You ask ruefully, shooting him a smile. 

Bradley pulls his aviators further down on his nose, giving you a smirk and a wink. “Never, darling. You’re stuck with me.” You shake your head as he pushes his aviators back on to his nose. “How’s your first day going?” 

You shrug. “It’s a bar job that my Dad hooked up for me so I don’t sit at home twiddling my thumbs for the foreseeable future while I try to figure out what do to do with my life.” 

“Hey, shit could always be worse.” He says, offering you a smile. 

Natasha, who’ve you learned to recognize from the years she’s been friends with the person who’s inserted himself into your life from the moment you were born, offers you a small smile. “How was graduation?” 

“I’m still mad you wouldn’t let me come.” Bradley mutters. 

“Okay top 1% Naval aviator who can just drop everything to come to my graduation.” You say, rolling your eyes. “But it was good. I’m happy to be back in San Diego.” You say, now looking back towards Natasha. 

“Well, if you ever need anything, give me a holler.” You nod, smiling at her words. 

“I know how you could help me.” Hangman says, eyes never leaving yours once. 

Bradley leans over to smack him upside the head. “Don’t even think about it Bagman, I’ll drown your ass in the ocean outside.”

-

And so that’s how it goes. 

Everyday after work, Bradley and company would appear at the Hard Deck. You quickly learned their callsigns and their names and their lives, some of the finest people you knew. 

Bob, who offered you a goofy smile and would sit at the bar on slow nights, just to chat. 

Coyote, who always tipped well. 

Fanboy, who sat and discussed the plot line of the latest Pokemon game for the Nintendo Switch in-depth with you. 

Payback, who always cracked a joke that made you laugh no matter what kind of day you were having. 

Phoenix, also known as Natasha, (to you, just Nat) who always invited you and Callie and Amelia over for girls nights, who felt more like a big sister than a friend, who fit so seamlessly into your life it was like she’d always been there. 

And then there was Bagman. Also known as Hangman. Also known as Jake. 

Jake, who reveled in the scarlet of your cheeks every time he complimented you, commenting on how flattering your top made your chest look, or how he admired the way the bar lights reflected in your eyes. Jake, who had no problem picking up women, and yet had set his sights on you. 

Jake, who was completely and thoroughly off-limits, no matter how much your heart wanted him. 

Wanted the man who gave you a dazzling smile every time he entered the bar, who always asked about your day, who always made sure you got home safe. Your stupid heart wouldn’t catch up with what your brain (and everyone else) already knew. That you couldn’t have Jake and even if you could, he didn't want you. You were someone fun to flirt with because ti was easy to fluster you, easy to get under your skin.

So you resigned yourself to hang to the back, to watch him woo women night after night, watch him sleep with anything that had a pulse. To hear about his conquests the next day when he discussed the marks left on his body, the blush of your cheeks at his graphic description of how he got them. 

(One time, he asked you if you’d like to do the same to him. You don’t think you breathed properly for fifteen minutes.)

You resigned yourself to be nothing more than the pretty bartender and it stayed that way as the summer months went by.

-

“This doesn’t seem like your scene. What’re you doing here?” 

You jump, relaxing slightly when you catch sight of Jake, dressed in a nice pair of blue jeans and deep emerald green shirt that compliments his eyes. His outfit is completed by the cowboy hat on top of his head, prompting you to giggle and raise an eyebrow. “A cowboy hat? Really?” 

He narrows his eyes, bottom lip jutting out as his fingers pass over the rim. “I happen to like it quite a bit. It makes me feel like home. And it is cowboy night after all.” He steps into your space. “But you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart.” 

“I could ask you the same thing, Bagman.” You say, although the close proximity of his body to yours is making it hard for you to breath properly. 

He shrugs, backing away and falling back to a couch shoved into the corner of the bar. It gives him the perfect view of the bar, even if it’s dimly lit enough for it to make it difficult to see who’s back here. He pats the spot next to him expectantly, as if you joining him is the most natural thing in the world. You sigh, taking the seat next to him as you watch the dancing out on the floor. 

“One of my neighbors heard about this and invited me. My Dad has been trying to get me out of the house for anything besides work so here I am.” 

He nods, eyes skimming over the crowd. “And your neighbor? Where is she?” 

You hum, eyes searching the crowd for the girl. “She’s been dying to meet a cowboy, so maybe I should introduce the two of you- hey, there she is!” You point the girl out. She’s cozied up to another man, also wearing a cowboy hat. 

“She’s not my type.” He says, taking a sip of his drink. 

You splutter, bringing your gaze back to him. “Not your type? She’s gorgeous.” 

He shrugs. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to her.” 

“So then what is your type?” He says nothing, simply bringing his gaze to yours, looking you over once before returning to his gaze to the dance floor. He takes another sip of his drink and you can’t help but watch the way he licks his lips. 

“She’s not a very good friend if she’s leaving you alone for any man to swoop in.” 

“Oh, like you?” You ask, the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them. You feel your cheeks warm as he returns his piercing gaze to you. 

“Perhaps.” He says with a nonchalant shrug, eyes moving over the maroon top on. The one your neighbor had encouraged you to wear because it quote, showed you off in all the right ways. You duck your head, cheeks blooming in an even redder color. 

He reaches out, picking you up to set you in his lap, causing you to yelp at the movement. “You gotta warn a girl before you start manhandling them, Seresin.” 

“Manhandling?” He asks through a chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “You call that manhandling, sweetheart?” 

You huff, your cheeks still warm. Still, your arms fall to sit behind his head, hands coming to cup his neck. One of your hands reaches up, knocking his cowboy hat. “And what is it with this?” 

He adjusts it back in to place, frowning. “You don’t like?” 

You shrug, unable to look away from his emerald eyes. “Never said I didn’t. What if I wanted to wear the cowboy hat?” 

He smirks. “You know the rule, sweetheart.” 

You snort. “The rule?” 

His smirks grows wider, making a coil tighten in your stomach. “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” 

Your ears begin to ring as your heart seems to stop in your chest as his words. 

You duck your head, cheeks feeling a firetruck red as you take in the implication  of his words. He lets you look away for a minute before one of his hands leaves the back of your thigh, reaching up to grab your chin, gently guiding your gaze back to his. 

“I mean, only if you want to.” 

You’re sure if your brain was an image it would the spinning wheel of your computer restarting as your tongue suddenly goes dry, unsure of what to say. 

“I don’t get it.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, letting his hand drop from your chin. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean- Well, you’ve never shown interest in me before.” 

“Yes, I have.” He splutters, eyebrows drawing together even more. “I flirt with you like, all of the time.” 

You roll your eyes as his hands moves up to the back of your neck, gently moving your hair to one side. He reaches up to softly adjust your necklace that must have shifted out of place when he’d unceremoniously plopped you in his lap. “You flirt with everything Bagman.” 

He leans closer, hovering over your lips. “Not like I flirt with you, sweetheart. And please, I wish you’d just call me Jake.” 

You swallow, unable to look away from his piercing eyes. “Okay, Jake.” His hands have fallen back to your waist and he’s made no move to pull back. 

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” He whispers, eyes flickering down to your lips. 

You blink in surprise. “Hardly anything, why?” 

“Because I only want to do this if you want this. And I want you to want this while sober.” You can only bring yourself to nod, words suddenly leaving you. Still, it’s not enough for Jake as he murmurs, “Need to hear you say it sweetheart.” 

“I want this.” 

It’s all the confirmation Jake needs as he surges forward, connecting his lips to yours. The kiss is strong, stealing any remnants of breath from your chest as both of his hands slip down past your waist to rest on your ass. His grip against you is strong, pulling you farther into him as your hands have nowhere to go back to tug at his hair. 

He gently tugs at your bottom lip, cautiously ask for permission. You grant it to him, his tongue heavy against your own. His hands glide over your ass as your own find purchase in his hair, tugging at the strands. 

He breaks the kiss, one of his hands sliding up your body to rest on the back of your neck. His touch leaves you feeling warm all over as you pant, struggling to catch your breath as his lips fall to the crook of your neck, pressing gentle yet hungry kisses to the bare skin. 

Your eyes flutter close when he finds that spot, teeth digging into your skin. “Jake, you-” You swallow, mouth too dry to speak. “You’re gonna leave a mark.” 

“Good.” He mutters into the skin before continuing his work, leaving a bruise you know is gonna be a bitch to deal with in the morning. “Wanna leave a mark to match the color of your cheeks.” 

He finally pulls away after taking his sweet time to mark up your neck. “That was hot.” You mutter under his watchful gaze, head still spinning with the way the night is turning out. 

“We should get out of here.” He whispers. 

“Before you get dishonorably discharged for public indecency?” 

His smirk is back as he grips your thighs, leaning in closer. “That’s exactly why sweetheart.” 

[cakerybakery]

I don’t think I’ve really seen an Adam going through a nesting phase while pregnant, unless giving him bird traits. But it’s a thing humans do to.

So I figured it would be funny to give him one

-

Lucifer pushed the crib over to the east wall, then the dresser to the west wall next to the changing table and the rocking chair to by the window. Like he’d been told.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Would the bookshelf look better on the south wall by the window?” Adam was hovering again.

“If that’s what you desire, I can move it.” ‘Again.’ He tacked on internally.

Adam tested out the changing table and dresser. Taking a tiny outfit from the drawer without leaving the table to avoid the baby rolling off and falling if he looked away for even a moment.

Satisfied, Adam started pulling the clothing out of the drawers and reorganizing them.

Lucifer paused pushing the bookshelf over to watch as Adam took all the sleepers out of the top drawer and put all the onesies in instead. “Didn’t you just organize that yesterday?”

“Yeah, but I thought today that the onesies really should be in the top drawer because that’s the first thing that we’ll put on them. Although, maybe I should put all the small miscellaneous stuff in the top drawer?” Adam started pulling it all out again before sighing and pulling himself back up, “hang on, I gotta go to the bathroom. I moved wrong and pressed the baby against my bladder.”

Lucifer went back to pushing the bookshelf over. Setting it up next to the window by the rocking chair. With nothing else to do he figured he’d help by re-reorganizing the baby clothing. He put the tiny hats, socks, and mitten to keep the baby from scratching their face and hurting themselves by accident in neat piles in the drawer. Then onesies, then sleepers, then pants. Satisfied he’d helped, Lucifer started to wonder where Adam went.

He wandered down the hall to the bathroom off their room and found Adam on the floor with a bucket of soapy water and the shelving taken out of the linen closet. Everything that had been on the shelves in some state of disarray or freshly washed. All the towels were in the laundry hamper.

“Uhh Adam? What are you doing?”

“Cleaning. I went to change the toilet paper roll and realized the underside of the shelving was dirty so I pulled everything out to clean it.”

Lucifer just nodded, “ah, okay. You need anything?”

“No. I need from fresh water but I’ll go get that. I need to stretch my legs. My back is fucking killing me.”

“Okay. I’ll… wash the towels I guess.”

Adam kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks. You’re a life saver.”

Lucifer carried the basket to the laundry room and started the load. It wouldn’t do any good to argue that they were perfectly clean towels. Adam felt they were dirty so they needed to be washed. Lucifer was getting use to this. He hoped it didn’t last.

He went back to the master bathroom and it was exactly as he left it.

Once more he wandered the house until he found Adam in the kitchen, scrubbing a wall. “Oh thank god. Can you get behind the stove? I can’t reach and it’s filthy.”

Lucifer just agreed, picked up an extra cloth and started trying to get off the accumulated years of grease and stains off the wall. ‘At least this is actually dirty.’

He was finishing up when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.”

“K,” Adam barely paid him any mind and went back to cleaning.

Lucifer pulled over the door and was surprised to find Eve there, “hey. I was in the neighbourhood and thought I’d pop by to see how Adam is doing.”

“He’s nesting.”

Eve put a hand on Lucifer shoulder and with a grimace, “I’m so fucking sorry for the loss of your husband’s sanity.”

“I’m going to go for a walk before he makes me reorganize the nursery, again. Can you make sure he doesn’t try to do anything dangerous by himself?” He grabbed the jacket and his hat off the hook on the wall and Eve agreed.

He was almost to the sidewalk when even from that distance he heard Adam yelling, “LUCIFER! DID YOU TOUCH THE BABY CLOTHING? ITS ALL WRONG!”

He was going for a very long walk. He’d bring back ice cream.

[upsidedownmvnson]

eddie hates his birthday. it always put pressure on wayne, which he hated to add to. plus, its not like he needs anything. but still every year theres a present and an ice cream cake.

and wayne wants to give him more but he just can’t

but this year was different because he had you. he had someone to spend his birthday with.

he has been thinking about the guaranteed birthday beej all fucking day long

but you called him to tell him you were running late, and then wayne called to say he picked up a job with really good pay…

so eddie walked up the the trailer alone on his birthday, and he’s contemplating hating it again this year anyway.

waynes typical decoration of a single helium balloon tied to the steps with a crudely drawn band logo, that wayne scribbles on with sharpie & writes happy birthday! underneath.

he did not expect, however, to enter a totally crammed trailer, all screaming “surprise!” and scaring the crap out of him

he screamed, terrified, but quickly smiled, realizing that there more people here than there literally ever has been

the whole hellfire club, wayne & you

oh, and erica came too. because she was forced (she wanted to)

of course this was mostly you, he grabbed you, spinning you, nearly knocking into half the crowd.

“i think its time to take this outside” wayne said, trying not to cry at the sight of eddies genuinely happy smile. he hadnt seen him smile like this on his birthday since well… idk ever?

eddies heart was going to burst. there was just no way he landed someone like you, someone willing to put in all this work just for eddie to have a nice birthday. someone willing to put time into him. it made him feel loved. you had slowly made him feel worthy of being loved, something he didnt know would ever happen.

and he couldnt believe his eyes when wayne brought out a homemade two story cake, but the top had been carved to look like a stage, and decorated to look like a metal concert on top, with a little eddie figurine rocking out on guitar, and a sour patch audience

“thats another little gift for you,” you said, pointing at the little thing. a dnd miniature, but of eddie.

as you all sang happy birthday, he was unusually quiet and content, but not in a bad way. his lips held a light smile, and his eyes were as soft as theyd ever been. just trying to process the new chapter of his life that he welcomes with open arms. he caught your eye and didnt let it go until the end.

eddie blew out his candles with the biggest, cheesiest smile on his face while you and everyone else clapped, laughing and enjoying the moment. while wayne cut into the cake and served it to hellfire, you pestered him about his wish, begging and resorting the pulling on the birthday hat, letting it snap on his head.

“i wished for a bike”

“uh oh, you actually said! your wish isnt gunna come true now!” you fake pout.

but it didnt matter to him at all, because everytime he looked at you he saw 10 years of birthday wishes that came true.

[skyfallslayer]

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter Five - Part 2

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Part One || Series Masterlist

🎲Word Count: 22,544 (In Total)

🎲Date: 7/31/24

🎲Warnings: Heavy Angst; Heavy Language & Dialogue; References To Broken Friendship; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Physical Fighting; Lying; "Death"; Funerals; Crying; Talks of Corpses; Being Drugged; Brief Alcohol Consumption; Unwanted Touching; Suggestive Dialogue; Suicidal Thoughts; Minor Blood; A Certain "Curse" Comes Into Play Early; The Byers Family's Mental Strain; Hopper Being a Great Cop & A Total Mess; Dustin Being a Gangster & A Overprotective Brother; The Harringtons' A+ Parenting; Steve's Emotional Damage & Signing Up To Be A Babysitter; Stephanie & Will Deserved All The Love, man. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Heads up, Readers! This document is split between two parts. For some reason Tumblr said I reach my 1,000 space limit, or something like that and wouldn't let me post it because it's so long. PLEASE read part one first or this won't make any sense :) Enjoy!

-Continuing...-

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Steph stares at her deadbeat Dad, scared, shocked, confused. Out of all the people her mind could conjure up for her to see today, it just had to be him, it just had to be the guy that ruined her and her family’s lives. As much as she wanted to look away, her gut was telling her not to (Just like the old days, huh?).

She swallows, trying not to get teary eyed in front of him. “This isn’t real. You’re not here.” She says, making him laugh, that same laugh that gave her chills. 

“Oh, but I am.”

“No you’re not. You’re a million fucking miles away.”

“So?” He shrugs, still smirking. “By all means, you still need me.”

Steph clenches her jaw and sends him the dirtiest look. “I don’t fucking need you. Neither does Dustin or my mother. I’m leaving.” But when she tried she couldn’t, her whole body was stuck to the chair, frozen. 

That seemed to fuel his ego a bit. “See? You still need me. Stay. Let’s talk. We haven’t done that in so long, munchkins.” He leans over to touch her forearm, sending another shiver down her body. “Talk.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“Stephanie! What’s wrong with you?” Will starts shaking her shoulders, not really sure what else he could do. “Stephanie! Stephanie! Stephanie!!!”

He doesn’t know what’s happening! She seems like she’s in a trance, but what kind of trance? How did she get into it? Who put her into it? And more importantly, how does he get her the hell out of it? 

“Stephanie! Come on! What happened to you? How do I…” He grabs the sides of his head. “What do I do? What should I do? What can I do? I…” He gasps, eyes widening. “Music…”

His coco orbs landed on what he had brought back, and he wasted no time to take his coat off and to dump out his brother’s cassettes everywhere. He starts shuffling through the pile, trying to find something he knew she liked. She liked metal, but Jonathan wasn’t a fan of that, so that rules out bands like Metallica or Dio, but she was a big fan of rock too.

Come on, Jonathan. You have to have something. Seriously, there has to be something he can play! Eagles, Heart, The Police… 

His heart skips a beat. Got it!

He recalls another band that was in her top five, one of them being Journey, And Luckily, his brother had the ‘Frontiers’ Album that so happens to have a song that was always on her mind. He pulled the cassette from the case and placed it inside the walkman (thank heavens her favorite song was the first one on set). Will replaced her hat for the headphones, and as soon as they were secured…

.

.

.

He presses the play button and prays. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jonathan had everything he needed for their little hunting mission. His dad had left behind a few of his guns when the marriage ended, and his mom always warned him and Will that those would be used in emergency situations only. And in Jonathan’s defense, he should count this as an emergency. This… faceless beast was somehow responsible for the disappearance of his little brother, Stephanie, and Barb – and he’s not even sure if there’s more or not, but he’s hoping it’s stopped at them – and he needs to know why and where this thing even came from, and where it took them. He’s just hoping he can get those answers before finally slaying the beast. 

Now, he was just confirming with Nancy over the phone. “I was thinking we can meet in the area about an hour before sundown? Maybe get some practice in shooting? Unless you’ve… shot before?”

[ ‘No, no. I have not. Have you met my parents?’ ]

That got him to chuckle a little. “So, no? What are you taking as a weapon then?”

[ ‘I mean, I’ve got my old bat when I’ve played softball. I could trying seeing if I could sneak out a kitchen knife but…’ ] 

“That might be a little hard, especially since your mom’s in the kitchen all the time.”

[ ‘Speaking of, are you sure your mom can’t hear us?’ ]

“Positive.” Jonathan said, sparing a glance over his shoulder to the sleeping figure on the couch. “She’s sound asleep. I’ll have enough time to make an excuse if she does wake beforehand.”

[ ‘If you say so. I’m just a little nervous. I’m a little afraid to see that thing for real this time.’ ]

“Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll try to get answers, and if not…” He takes a deep breath. “We kill the faceless thing. End of story. At least… I won’t have to worry about it terrorizing my mom anymore, or anyone for that matter.”

I have to kill this thing. I have to make it up to my Mom somehow. He didn’t realize how quiet he went, and wasn’t sure how long she was calling out his name for. “Uh, sorry. W-What did you say?”

[ ‘Hour before sundown, right?’ ]

“Yep. I’ll meet you there.” 

[ ‘Kay. I’ll see you there.’ ]

Jonathan hangs up the phone, sighing and heading back to his room to make sure he has everything – completely unaware that a certain someone was actually awake.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Later that day, both Powell and Callahan finally decided to check on their boss who had failed to come into the station this morning. They pulled their car in next to his, not really seeing much out of the ordinary so they went for the front door.

“Hey, Chief!” Callahan called out, before knocking. “Hello? Whoa!-”The door was practically pulled from him, and out came their Boss who looked a lot worse for wear.

“Jesus, Chief. You all right?” Powell asked, concerned.

“What are you doing here?” Hopper asked, pistol by his side with an itchy finger.

“We tried calling, but–”

“Yeah, the phone’s dead.” He snaps, missing the way his two pupils backed up a bit at the sight of his weapon and tone. 

Callahan tries to steer his trigger finger away with a conversation. “Hey, so Bev Mooney came in this morning all upset. Said that Dale and Henry went hunting yesterday… and they didn’t come back home.”

“She thought they were on another binger, but she’s not so sure now.” Powell adds. 

“I think this whole Will Byers, Stephanie Henderson thing has everybody on edge.”

Hopper’s heart sank a bit. “Where was this?”

“It was at the station.”

“No, no. Where did Henry and Dale go hunting?”

“Oh. Uh, out near Kerley.”

Hopper felt himself go paler. “Mirkwood.”

“What?”

“O-Okay. You go back to the station. I’ll take care of this, all right?” He explains, and tries to go back inside.

“Are you sure?” Callahan asked, worriedly.

Hopper nods and opens his door back up. “Yeah, leave it.”

“Oh, hey. Uh, they found Barbara’s car.”

“What?”

“Barbara Holland’s car.” Powell specifies. “Seems she ran away after all. Staties found it late last night at a bus station.”

“Funny, right?” Callahan jokes. “They keep doing our job for us.”

No, definitely not funny. Hopper’s jaw clenches and he nods. “Yeah. It’s funny.” He says, heading back inside and mentally cursing. 

“Is he off his meds again?” He asked in a low whisper. 

Powell shrugs. “He’s been spending too much time with Joyce Byers. That’s what I think.”

“Maybe he should stick with the Henderson woman. I heard they were friends through high school.”

“Yeah…” He scoffs. “Like she’s any better.”

Callahan gave him a look. “What do you mean?”

“Let me just say she was… quite the wild card back then.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When the doorbell rang at the Wheeler house, the family honesty wasn’t sure who to expect.

Except the three boys who had bolted out of the basement knew.

They had loosened their funeral clothes a bit since they arrived here, and were trying to act like everything was A-Okay! And totally not suspicious when the rest of the family sees who their mysterious guest is.

“We got it!” Dustin shouts, surprising and stopping Karen in the hallway.

Karen halts her son, confused. “What? Did you guys order pizza or something?”

“No! Uh, we, um…” Mike was fumbling his words a bit, fueling his mother’s suspicions more.

“We asked someone to come over. From the funeral. Uh… A teenager from high school.” Lucas explains.

“Yeah. W-We got to talking to him, and we really think he could help us with this history project that is due in a few weeks.”

“He’s actually a friend of Nancy.”

“Oh, really?” Karen asked, and spoke of the devil.

“A friend of mine?” Nancy said, halfway down the stairs, clothes changed into something more cozy and warm.

“Who’s the friend?”

And that’s when Dustin had opened the door, pretending to be overjoyed. “Steve!”

“Steve?” Nancy said, coming completely down the stairs now. “W-What are you doing here?”

“Uh, well, I had the chance to talk to them early, and sounded like your brother and his friends needed help with a school project.” Steve replies, hoping he sounded convincing. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t, I’m just… a bit surprised, I guess.”

Steve smiles, and holds his hand out for her mother. “Hello, Mrs. Wheeler. I’m Steve Harrington.”

“Steve Harrington?” Karen said, shaking it. “I feel like I’ve heard that name before.” Her eyes trail to Nancy who was looking away with a nervous laugh. 

And I just made it awkward. He brushes it off quickly. “Uh, I won’t be long, Mrs. Wheeler, I’ll just go over a couple things with the boys.”

“Oh, take your time. It’s nice that they actually asked for help once.”

“Thank you. Alright, kids–” He smacks his hands together. “Let’s go.” He makes a mental note to talk to his girlfriend later, but as right now he doesn’t want her to get involved with whatever this was. He follows the kids to the basement, but a few steps down, Mike stops him.

Mike makes sure his family wasn’t around to hear this, and starts talking in a low tone. “Before we go down, there is something we have to tell you.”

“Which is?” Steve said, raising an eyebrow.

“To make a long story short, the night after Will and Stephanie disappeared we decided to go looking in the area her car crashed, and we found someone.”

That’s not concerning at all, Wheeler. What was this kid getting at? It was making him a bit nervous. “Someone?”

“Yeah. She’s–” Mike sighs, and gives him a stern look. “You have to swear you won’t tell my parents, or Nancy, or… anyone for that matter. Do you understand?”

“I… understand.” He holds his hand up. “I swear.”

“Good.” The kid nods, satisfied. “Come on.”

Steve follows him down, and that’s when he notices the girl on the couch. A young girl, probably not much older than twelve was sitting there in a Mötley Crüe band shirt, jeans and a pair converse on the floor; Along with a plaid jacket too. That outfit looked… quite familiar.

“Is that…” He begins, gesturing to the redhead who was trying to figure him out too.

“This is Eleven, or we call El for short. She’s…” Mike trails off, thinking. “We don’t know where she’s from, all we know is that it’s from a bad place. And she has powers.”

Now that got his attention. “I’m sorry, powers?”

“Yeah. Like… Magneto.”

“Magneto?”

“Yeah. Like from the X-Men.”

“Uh…”

“Oh, my god.” Dustin says, throwing his head back to his obliviousness. “How were you and my sister friends?”

“Hey, we had other things in common.” Steve pushes back, hands on his hip like a stern mother.

“Oh, yeah?” Dustin squares up. “Like what?”

“You’re really going to quiz me right now?”

“Yes! I am!”

“Dustin, man, come on. We don’t have time for–” Lucas said, sitting up straighter from his spot on a chair. But of course, his friend wouldn’t listen (and they all accuse him of being the stubborn one).

“What is her favorite color?” Dustin starts, getting an eye roll and a sigh from his ‘opponent’. 

“Seafoam green.” Steve replies, going along with it.

“Favorite band?”

“It’s a tie between Journey and Metallica.”

“Favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Mint chocolate chip, however–”

“Ah, ha!” The youngest Henderson jerks his thumb at him, like he caught him in a lie. “Wrong! That’s not her–”

“But, but, but!” Steve cuts right back in, taking control. “I wasn’t finished. She says that’s her favorite, because she’s too embarrassed to tell everyone that her actual favorite is bubblegum, which no one, and I mean no I know besides her, likes that flavor. Correct?”

Dustin makes a face like he’s been kicked. “Damn it…” He mumbles, pacing off to find something to do.

“Ice cream?” El said, and it took Steve a second to realize she phrased it as a question.

“You never had ice cream?” He asked, and she shook her head. “Where the hell was she living before?” Then he stops himself. “D-Doesn’t matter! We’ll discuss that part later, maybe over some ice cream, but for right now, why am I here?” 

It took a bit to get him up to speed about the past few days, leaving him with a spinning head, and asking more questions that needed to be answered.

“Holy shit…” He mutters, rubbing his temple. “Holy shit. So… you guys are all convinced that Stephanie and Will are stuck in another dimension? All because El took you guys to his house and said they were there but couldn’t see them?”

“Correct.” Lucas said, with a nod.

“And it pretty confirmed it when you heard Will over the radio explaining that?”

“Correct.”

“That’s… insane, but… it makes sense.”

“So you’re saying you believe us?” Mike asked, genuinely surprised.

“Look, like I said earlier, when the evidence was laid out about what happened to them, It didn’t really sit right with me, you know? And–” Steve fiddles with his hands again. “And Stephanie, I mean she knew the Quarry pretty well, so I thought it would have been odd that she would have fallen in like that, even if she was being chased. And Will… he sounds like he’s a smart kid too.”

“He is.” Lucas said, a bit of sadness there.

“He’s really smart.” Mike adds.

“That’s my point.” Steve agrees. “So, if what you’re suggesting is true, and they really did end up in some dimension, whoever found or knows, or even is responsible for that to happen to them, they must have planted the fake bodies to take the heat off the case. I mean, let’s be real here. Kids get kidnapped to another dimension? Who’s going to believe that?”

“So someone had to open that gate to the Upside Down, realize what happened and wanted to cover their asses.” Mike turns towards Eleven who seemed like she wasn’t fully into their conversation. “Do you know where the gate is?”

She shakes her head. “No…” 

“Then how do you know about the Upside Down?” Lucas asked, as she looked away in shame.

“Hey, uh…” Steve leans in to whisper. “Not to budge into this spat, but uh, did I break Henderson?”

Now all eyes were on him, and he was pacing around in a small circle with something in his hand; He looked like he was in deep thought too.

“Dustin, what are you doing? Dustin?” Mike tries, and gets irritated. “Dustin!!”

That seemed to do the trick because he stopped. “I... I need to see your compasses.”

“What?”

“Your compasses. All of your compasses, right now!”

Of course Lucas and Mike decided to humor him a bit and start searching for what they had, while Steve locked eyes with El who looked just as confused as he was. She seemed painfully shy, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying to get on her goodside.

“Hey–” He whispers. “I think he’s the nutty one.” And he makes a goofy expression that got her to smile. Good enough for me.

And he stands up to join the boys around the table who had all the compasses laying out. 

“What’s exciting about this?” Mike asked, unamused. 

“Well, they’re all facing north, right?” Dustin points out.

“Yeah, so?” 

“Well, that’s not true north.”

“What do you mean?” Lucas asked, slightly intrigued. 

“I mean exactly what I just said. That’s not true north.” He looks between them like they’re crazy. “Are you both seriously this dense?” His friends shrug and he sighs. “Steve?” And all hopes go out too when he shrugged. “Wow. You’re useless.”

“Gee, thanks, Henderson.” Steve said, trying not to strangle him yet. 

“So, the sun rises in the east, and it sets in the west. Right?” Dustin points towards the left wall, east. “Which means that’s true north.”

“So what you’re saying is the compasses are broken.” Mike said, clarifying. 

He sighs again. “Do you even understand how a compass works? Do you see a battery pack in this?”

“No.”

“No, you don’t. Because it doesn’t need one. The needle’s naturally drawn to the Earth’s magnetic North Pole.”

“So what’s wrong with them?” Lucas questions.

“Well, that’s what I couldn’t figure out, but then I remembered.” He perks up with a grin. “You can change the direction of a compass with a magnet. If there’s the presence of a more powerful magnetic field, the needle deflects to that power. And then I remembered what Mr. Clarke said. The gate would have so much power–”

“It could disrupt the electromagnetic field.” Mike said, smiling.

“Exactly.”

“Meaning, if we follow the compasses’ north…”

“They should lead us to the gate.”

And the boys begin praising Dustin for figuring that out–

.

.

.

Why El was looking like she heard the worst news ever.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jonathan fixes his jacket and slings a bag over his shoulder as he comes out of his room when he notices what time it was (He could even see that the sun was starting to change color). But as soon as he reaches where the hallway meets the kitchen, he sees his mother sitting at the table reading over some paperwork.

His heart skips a beat a bit, and as he calmly tells himself to stick to the script. “Y-You’re up.” he says, getting her attention. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to wake up tonight.”

“Yeah, I guess that service really took a lot out of me.” Joyce replies, setting what she was reading down to look at him. “Heading out?”

“Y-Yeah, um… a classmate who was at the wake wanted to cheer me up. I-I was going to turn it down, but I thought it could take my mind off a few things.”

“Oh, well that’s good.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “I’m going to head out.” He says, turning to leave.

“Okay.” She said, crossing her arms. “Does your outing include guns?” That got him to stop. “I noticed you raided your father’s old gun safe.”

Jonathan bites his lip for a second, before turning around with a dry laugh. “It wasn’t like he was going to use them any time soon.”

She raised an eyebrow, stern. “I thought you didn’t like shooting?”

“I thought it would be nice to pick it back up. You know, just in case that thing comes back.”

“Well, that’s actually rather thoughtful of you, Jonathan.”

“Uh, thanks, mom.” He sends her a quick smile and starts leaving again. “I’ll be back.”

“Alrighty.” She says, standing up silently. “Is that before or after you kill the faceless thing?” This time her son couldn’t hide his shock when he turned around, and she couldn’t really hide her irritation either. “You really need to learn whether someone is fake sleeping or not.”

He swallows. “Mom–”

“Who were you talking to?”

“Mom, it’s not–”

“Jonathan, you will tell me who you’re going out with right now. I am not playing any games.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Despite their agreements to go out to look, Dustin was still salty enough to try to get Steve to leave. His first attempt was to try to go get him to see Nancy, but that backfired when she apparently had left for something. The second was when he pointed out to Steve that he still had his suit on, and tried to get him to go home and change – But the teenager proudly declined, and saw right through his crap, and said he can just take his jacket and tie off and he’ll be fine. His third attempt was a bit later on in their adventure, when the temperature started to drop and so did the sun in the sky, he tried again with the clothes, pointing out that dress shoes weren’t exactly made for hiking – this attempt was just flat out ignored.

“Dude, just let it go.” Lucas said, since he was partnered up with him (Now, he’s lucky that they lived close enough to actually change out of their funeral clothing. He can’t imagine how Steve’s doing it). “He’s going to be helpful whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dustin said, sarcastically. “What? Because he’s carrying a bat around? Who carries a bat in their trunk?”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Dude, drop it. It’s actually kind of relieving that someone else brought a weapon too.” He waves around his slingshot furiously to make a point. 

“Whatever…”

He sighs, and takes a glance at his compass. “How much further?”

“I don’t know.” Dustin shrugs. “These only tell direction, not distance. You really need to learn more about compasses.”

“I’m just saying. How do we know when we get to the gate?”

“Uh, I think a portal to another dimension is gonna be pretty obvious.”

Lucas sighs again, this time glancing back at the others. Mike and Eleven were paired together, while Steve was a few steps behind them keeping guard out. But his focus was more on the girl that has been suspiciously wiping her nose every few minutes. 

“Do you think she’s acting weird?” He finally asked in a lower voice.

“You’re asking if the weirdo is acting weird?” Dustin said, confused.

“I mean, weirder than normal?”

“I don’t know. Who cares?”

Meanwhile, Eleven was remembering a few scary things from her past, and the guilt and fear was starting to eat away at her. With a shaky hand, she tugs on the boy’s sleeve. “Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“Turn back.”

Mike blinks, puzzled. “What? Why?”

“I’m tired.”

He sighs. “Look, I’m sure we’re almost there. Just hold on a little longer, okay?” He says, making her stop.

She worriedly looks at the way they came from, practically aching to start running away from all this. She knows once they find out the truth, they’re going to be mad.

“Hey.” Steve calls out softly, standing right in front of her. “You okay?”

Her eyes scan his face, seeing how genuinely worried he was for her, despite they met only hours ago (Why weren’t the people she grew up with this kind to her?). She nods subtly. “F-Fine.”

“Fine?” He asks, getting another nod. “Okay.” He wasn’t fully convinced, but he wasn’t going to push. “But your nose is bleeding.”

She perks up at the news, and quickly wipes it away. She just gives him a quick smile before jogging to catch up with the others, Steve’s concern only growing a bit stronger.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Stephanie felt like she couldn’t breath. She suddenly felt like she was a kid again, practically having to be on her toes whenever he was around. Right now, her father seemed pretty ticked off about something, something that she was going to have to continue to push back on and try to get away. 

“You ratted me out.” He hissed, arms crossed in disappointment. “You and that little rich friend of yours.” 

She tightens her jaw again, her hands managing to make a fist as she glares. “I never ratted you out.”

“Oh…” He whispers, realization creeping across his features for a few seconds. “So it was him, huh?”

Fucking prick. She bares her teeth at him, angry herself. “Steve did what any friend would have in a situation like that.” 

His eye twitched. “By selling me out!!”

“You got child endangerment and illegal gambling. You’re lucky that’s all you got.” She says, raising her tone. “He decided to be a good person and respect my wishes, respect my dignity, and save me from some humiliation from every fucking school kid – to save my mom the guilt, and Dustin some confusion.” Steph scoffs. “Selling you out? You got fucking lucky, Pal.”

“Pal? I ain’t your pal! I’m your fucking father!” He points at himself furiously. “I raised you!”

“Mom raised me! Not you!” Now she felt the tears start to sting, but not from sadness, no, these were angry tears. He opens his mouth to speak, and she cuts him off. “And don’t you dare say you raised Dustin! You were never there for him. Never there for any school events, or the time he tried to play hockey. For fuck’s sake, you were even there when he was born!!”

“I WAS BUSY!!”

“Busy fucking GAMBLING! You were always doing that!” She scoffs again. “You were never our father, you were never his father. When mom wasn’t there it was me. It was always me, it was never you.”

“I was always there for you.”

“Oh, please…”

“We hung out, you can’t deny that. We always did something every week.”

“Oh, yeah, take your child to a black jack table and let them watch as you bet money we don’t have. Yeah…” She rolls her eyes. “That was a wonderful father-daughter bonding moment.”

“Stephanie–”

“Don’t say my name.”

“Stephanie.” His face softens. “Munchkins, you have to understand, what I did, it was necessary. I was on my way of making the big bucks, and moving us to the hills with beautiful and big houses your mother and I always dreamed of.”

“That was a lie you just love feeding to mom.”

“Stephanie–”

“Stop.” She snaps, calming herself a little. “I don’t know what this is. I don’t know if I hit my head a little hard, or that weird monster that keeps following me is doing this but…” She shakes her head. “You’re not real. You’re in prison. And if this is just some sick joke to get me to forgive you, it ain’t going to work. I hate you, and I will always hate you. Period. Now–” She manages to push herself off the bar stool to stand. “I’m leaving.”

Stephanie doesn’t want to bid him another thought or word as she turns and starts heading for the exit as her father starts yapping away.

“You hate me, I get it.” He sighs. “I hate myself as well. But… I know you hate yourself too.”

That got her to stop. It got a nerve that she was trying to hide.

“Deep down, you hate yourself. A lot apparently.”

“I don’t hate myself.” She replies, turning around.

“Oh, yes, you do.” He said, standing up too, a gleeful look on his face. “You see, you’ve hated yourself for quite a while, and it didn’t start after the whole… broken friendship thing, no… it’s been happening for a while.”

“You’re…” She swallows, shaking slightly (She was unaware of the room growing darker and more suffocating). “You’re crazy.”

“This whole self hatred thing has been going on and off throughout your life. There were so many key moments that made you think that way.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re fucking crazy–”

“There were so many times that made you stop and think, ‘Hey. Why don’t Steve’s parents like me? What’s wrong with me? Why am I not good enough?’ Hmm…” He moves closer, the abyss growing around them both more. “Ring any bells? Remember when you thought that and tried to change?”

“That’s…” She touches the side of her head. “That’s ridiculous. I… I just thought maybe I should change a little, wh-what would it h-hurt? Right…? I…”

“See? It’s in there? It’ll always be there.” He taps his own chest twice. “There will always be that hatred in your heart that you can’t get rid of.”

“I… I c-can get rid of it.”

“You can bury it, but you can’t get rid of it. It’s your genes, it’s engraved in your bones, sewn into your heart.” He smiles. “Think about it, even after your friend ended everything, sure you were mad at him, but you were more mad at yourself than anything.”

Her eyes widened, shaking. “S-Stop…”

“You were so mad that you thought about…” The abyss grows more and pulls them closer together. “Ending it all for everyones’ sake.”

She felt like something was grabbing a hold of her now, pushing on her lungs and in her throat, suffocating her. She felt her eyes sting and burn, and her father’s started to change into something or some else. 

“And you…” He laughs, the pain in her body intensifying. “Probably should.”

He starts extending his arm out for her, bruised fingers coming over to ghost her face and–

It was like someone had opened the shades and let the sunlight in. Everything felt warmer and lighter, the pressure was suddenly taken off her body. She gasps with relief, her father’s hand pulling back as she hears a familiar song playing in the distance. 

.

[ ♪ Here we stand

Worlds apart, heart broken in two. Two. Two.

Sleepless nights

Losing ground, I'm reaching for you. You. You ♪ ]

.

|| STEPHANIE!! ||

Her eyes widened, turning around to see some kind of opening in the distance. “Will?” She croaks, and she swears she can see him too.

|| STEPHANIE! WAKE UP! PLEASE! || 

Wake up? I’m asleep? She couldn’t believe it. She really was stuck in her head.

|| STEPHANIE!! ||

“I–” She swallows and takes a step. “I’m coming.”

Her father frowns. “You can’t leave.” He says, snatching her by the arm. She shutters at the sudden voice change, scared again. “We haven’t finished talking.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“You told me you weren’t going to do anything stupid! You promised me, Jonathan!” Joyce yells, as her son shakes her head.

“W-We’re not going through this again!” He said, almost laughing.

“Not again? What do you mean?!”

“Mom, seriously!” He points at himself. “Let me do this! Let me find this thing!”

“You want me to allow you to go find some wild, dangerous beast that could possibly take you away or have you killed?” Joyce scoffs. “You’re out of your mind!”

“I’m not out of my mind! I am stopping–”

“You’re not going out there!”

“Yes, I am!”

“No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am.” He says, as his expression was something that no one could pinpoint. “Let me prove this to you.”

“Prove what?” She asked, throwing her arms out. “What so desperately do you have to prove? Prove that this is the stupidest–”

“Let me prove to you that I AM SORRY!!”

Between that sentence and the front door being pounded on at the same time, Joyce was definitely lost for words. But she continues to stare at her son, trying to see if something would come out before another set of knocks came about.

As she makes her way to the door, Jonathan blurts out her name. Part of him was afraid what would happen if that was Nancy; If he thinks his mom is mad now, he could imagine when she puts two-and-two together. He calls her out again just as she opens it, both of them startled by who it was.

Hopper had his finger up in a ‘shushing’ motion, and was holding up a sign that the son couldn’t read until his mother moved out of the way. The sign read: DON’T SAY ANYTHING.

The Chief locks eyes with Jonathan, silently telling him to stay quiet too as he shuts the door. His blue orbs glanced around the room, mostly focusing on the many strings lights that were up.

Oh, Jesus. He thought, realizing this was going to take some time.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The sun was halfway set when the boys arrived at an old, abandoned scrap yard that was up in the hills. When they got about a quarter of the way inside the place, one of them noticed something terrible.

“Oh, no.” Dustin said, after triple checking his surroundings.

“‘Oh, no?’ What’s, ‘Oh, no?’, Henderson?” Steve asked in a teasing way, which will fade in a second when he realizes how serious this was.

“We’re headed back home.”

“What?” Mike perks up. 

“Are you sure?” Lucas asked, not buying it.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Dustin points to the sky. “Setting sun, right there. We looped right back around.”

“And you’re just realizing this now?”

“Why is this all on me?” 

“Because you’re the compass genius!”

Dustin sighs. “What do yours say?”

Both boys glanced down at theirs and replied, “North.”

“Makes no damn sense.”

“Maybe the gate moved.” Steve asked, trying to think what would be most logical.

The boy frowns. “No, I don’t think it’s the gate. I think it’s something else screwing with the compasses.”

“Maybe it’s something here.” Mike said, gesturing to their surroundings.

Dustin shakes his head. “No, it has to be like a super magnet.”

“It’s not a magnet.” Lucas hiss, bitterly, his eyes landing on the only girl with them. “She’s been acting weirder than normal. If she can slam doors with her mind, she can definitely screw up a compass.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Steve said, half stepping between them, trying to cool him down. “Why would she do that? Isn’t she your friend?”

Lucas ignores him, and swats his arm away. “Because she’s trying to sabotage our mission.” He starts stalking towards her. “Because she’s a traitor!”

“Lucas, what are you doing?” Mike asks, fearfully.

Steve tries to deescalate him again. “Hey, Sinclair, maybe cool it before–”

“Can it, Steve!” He snaps, stopping right in front of El who’s guilt started sprouting full blown. “You did it, didn’t you? You don’t want us to reach the gate. You don’t want us to find them.”

“Lucas, come on, seriously–” Mike rushes up next to him. “Just leave her alone!”

“Admit it.”

“No.” El whispers.

“ADMIT IT!” He snaps, scaring her enough to grab her arm and show off her jacket sleeve that was stained bright red. “Fresh blood. I knew it.”

“Lucas, come on!” Mike says, smacking his hand away from her.

“I saw her wiping her nose on the tracks! She was using her powers!”

“Bullshit! That’s old blood. Right, El?” And Mike’s stomach sank when she didn’t say anything. “Right, El?

“It’s... not…” El chokes back on tears, her lip quivering in shame. “It’s not safe.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After unscrewing a hundred goddamn light bulbs later, Hopper was satisfied enough to realize that the Byers’ household was untouched by the unknown.  

“Okay.” He breathes, and collapses into a chair, the adrenaline he’s felt all day has finally given out. “Should be okay, I mean… I can’t guarantee it, but it should be okay.”

“What the hell is going on, Hopper?” Joyce finally asked, still keeping her voice a bit quiet. I mean, all she and her son could do was wait and let the Police Chief raid her house to get some kind of answer. 

“They bugged my place.”

“Bugged?” Jonathan asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“They put a microphone in the light.” Hopper sighs, the mental strain finally hitting him hard. “It’s because I’m on to them and they know it. I don’t know…”

“Who?”

“I thought they might be watching you, too.” He shakes his head, shutting his eyes for a second. “I don’t know, the CIA, the NSA, Department of Energy... I-I don’t know.”

“You gotta explain this to us.” Joyce said, getting an agreement from her eldest. “‘Cause we’re not–”

“I went to the morgue last night, Joyce.”

That got their complete attention now. “...What?” She muttered, feeling like she was losing her breath from his words.

“It wasn’t him.” Hopper replies, getting teary eyed.

Jonathan had to hold up his mother who looked like she was about to faint from the news. “W-What do you mean?” He asks, heart pounding in his ears.

“Will’s body, it was a fake. His and Stephanie’s. They’re both fakes.” He stands up to make sure he was looking her in the eye to tell her these words, “You were right. This whole time, you were right. I should have believed you. I am so sorry, Joyce.”

“Oh, my god…” Joyce sobbed into her hands, as her son took a step back to process. “Oh, my god. I mean… w-why though? Why the fakes? Who made the fakes?”

“I don’t know.” Hopper replies, upset himself. “Like I said, someone bugged my place, I don’t know who though. Although…”

“‘Although’… what?

“I saw…” He swallows. “I saw something really strange last night. At the lab.”

“The lab?” She tilts her head. “You went to the lab?”

“I snuck in. I ended up getting punctured with a needle that knocked me out. When I woke up in my trailer, I think the people at the lab were trying to make it seem like I went on binger. My whole table was trashed with beer cans and pills. Bastards.”

“Well what did you see?”

“It’s…” How does he explain this? “First, I ended up in a hospital setting, you know, white walls, beds, cold temperatures. But then I went down lower and… I saw it.”

“Saw what?” She asked, nervously.

“I don’t… I don’t know what it is. It look like a plant, it was on the wall, it was gross looking and sticky and–”

“Was it like a bubble? And it and like a red hue to it and it was pul–”

“Pulsating?” He asked, getting a nod. “You know what I’m talking about?” But before he could get an answer, the teenager had finally spoken. 

“So it really is that dangerous…” Jonathan whispers, eyes landing on him.

“What?” Joyce asked, her son started shaking his head.

“Fuck.” He mutters, and starts grabbing his hair. “Fuck…”

“What, Jonathan?! What?”

“Nancy and I both agreed to go look for that thing!” He spills, all distraughtly. 

“Wait.” Joyce blinks a few times, trying to wrap her head around what she just said. “Nancy? That’s who you were talking to?!”

“What is going on?” Hopper asked, looking between the two.

“We wanted to find out what happened to Barb.” Jonathan explains. “Nancy… she… she saw that thing when she went to Steve’s house, she–”

“What? What thing?”

“She saw it too?” Joyce cuts Hopper off, intrigued by this shocking news. “What… what were you guys going to do?”

“We were going to kill it!” Jonathan replies, truthfully. “W-We… we agreed to meet at the spot Stephanie’s car was found and… shit.”

“Jonathan–”

“I fucked up.”

“Jonathan.” She pressures, trying to calm him down a smidge. “Maybe she’s by the road. She wouldn’t go exploring on her own. Right?” But her son sends her an un-assuring look that deflates her confidence. “...Right?”

Jonathan frowns, trying to hide how scared he was now. “We need to find Nancy, now.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“What did I tell you?” Lucas explodes. “She’s been playing us from the beginning!”

“That’s not true.” Mike pushes back. “She helped us find Will and Stephanie!”

“Find Will and Stephanie?” He scoffs. “Find Will and Stephanie? Where are they, then?” He starts walking around the place to make a point. “Huh? I don’t see them.”

“Yeah, you know what I mean.”

“No, I actually don’t. Just think about it, Mike. She could’ve just told us where the Upside Down was right away, but she didn’t. She just made us run around like headless chickens.”

“All right, calm down!” Dustin says, cutting between them.

“I’m siding with Henderson on this one.” Steve says, eyes batting back and forth between the two. “Let’s just take a moment to breathe, and figure this out.”

“No!” Lucas yells, not listening to this. “She used us, all of us! She helped just enough so she could get what she wants. Food and a bed. She’s like a stray dog.”

“Screw you, Lucas!” Mike yells back. 

“No! Screw you, Mike. You’re blind… blind because you like that a girl’s not grossed out by you. But wake up, man! Wake the hell up! She knows where they are, and now she’s just letting them die in the Upside Down.

Mike balls his hand in a fist, trying to contain his own anger. “Shut up.”

“For all we know, it’s her fault.” Lucas says, jerking his thumb towards her.

“Shut up.”

“Sinclair–” Steve warns. 

“We’re looking for some stupid monster… but did you ever stop to think that maybe she’s the monster?”

“I said shut up!” Mike shouts, and tackles him to the ground. 

“Stop!” El yells, worriedly. 

“Knock it off, you idiots.” Dustin says, as he tries to get close.

“Stop it!”

“Oh, my– Wheeler, get off!” Steve says, and tries pulling the boys off one another. But for being only kids, they were putting up one hell of a fight to stay on top for dominance. 

The shouting between Steve and Dustin went back and forth, and all their efforts to stop it suddenly ended when the girl behind them screamed ear piercingly. All of them could only watch helplessly as Lucas was flung off, hitting the ground hard, and landing against one of the scrapped vehicles. 

“Jesus Christ!” Steve shouted, and raced over to the boy. 

“Lucas! Lucas!” Mike yells, shaking him on the shoulder. “Lucas, are you all right?

“Lucas.” Dustin says, doing the same. “Lucas, come on!”

“Hey, hey! Careful with his neck!” Steve urges, moving their hands away as carefully examines the boy. “Shit… come on, kid.”

“Why would you do that?” Mike snaps at Eleven, who was trembling again. “What’s wrong with you? Huh?!” He could believe she would do something like this. "What is wrong with you?!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“What’s wrong with you?” Stephanie croaked, trembling at the way his voice changed into something almost demonic. He know longer sounded like the man who was supposed to be her father. “Why do you sound like that?”

Along with the voice change, his whole demeanor seemed different too. The way he stood, the way he smiled and his eyes seemed dead, yet controlling. 

“Admit it…” He whispers with fire on his silver tongue. “You’re tired, you really don’t want to live anymore.”

Her throat started to feel tight again, her body was aching too. Whatever was holding her down earlier was trying to latch onto her again. “I-I…”

“You don’t want to live anymore because everything’s gone to shit.” He gestures around, still having that stupid smug on his face. “Your long friendship with Steve is over, crushed because you were an embarrassment to him.”

She shakes her head. “N-No.”

“Even after what happened at the dance, it meant nothing to him. That he didn’t love you like you thought he did.”

“St-Stop it.”

“You try to fill the gaping hole by hanging out with your brother, but he’s growing up, he’s got friends when you don’t have any. He’s already pushing you away to be with them. You’re an envious freak.”

“I’m not.” His jabs were like sticking an imaginary knife in her heart, and for some reason, deep down, she knows his jabs have some truth to them.

“Your own mother knows you’re in a rut, knows you’ve been lying to her, but you don’t want her help. You love the abyss.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about–”

“And you… are failing to keep your promise to the boy.” He says, making her gasp. “You told Will you were going to get him out, but you don’t even know how.” It was another stab to her heart. “You’re having doubts.” And another. “You’re having thoughts about how you’re never going to get out.”

“N-No…” She whispers, on the verge of tears once more, and he wasn’t done with his troubling words. 

“How you’re thinking in what way the No-Face beast will get you both. Do you let it take a bite out of you first, and let the boy be a desert? Or…” His expression grows sinisterly. “Do you let it take the boy first as a mercy kill?”

Stephanie sobs, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. “N-No… No…”

“I think… that’s what you think is best. Let the boy’s suffering end quickly.”

“N-No…” She shakes her head before grabbing the sides of it. “I… I…” She sobs again. “W-Will…”

|| STEPHANIE! || 

He calls out again, but it’s barely audible, and the music is starting to sound distant again.

“I… I don’t know… I don’t know…” Stephanie said, brain feeling like it was going to melt with everything going on. 

“Come.” Her father beckons. “Let it all go.” He opens his arms out wide, like he is asking for a hug as the abyss grows back around them, blocking some of the light. “You can rest, my dear daughter.”

Then the room sprinkled with a little red, and the sound of an old grandfather clock chimed around in an echo. The sound… seemed scary, but strangely welcoming. It was telling her to find it, and she almost wanted to.

“Let all go, Child.” He urges, his voice now echoing as well. “You know you want to.”

She wants to, she really wants to. But something was keeping her from doing that, something inside was telling her to stay away. 

“But–” She managed to say before ‘Separate Ways’ was turned up to max volume. She screams, her head pounding as the room gets brighter again, along with Will’s voice.

|| WAKE UP! YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP! || 

“Will…” She says, looking at the opening before her head was magically moved back in her father’s direction. 

“But don’t you want to leave it all behind?!” He screams. “The bad memories? The times you were called a freak? The times you were forgotten or ignored? Unloved? The times that people told you you weren’t good enough for him?”

That was another piercing to her aching heart. “B-But, Steve’s just–” 

|| STEPHANIE! WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?! WAKE UP! || 

Will. She needed to get back to Will. She didn’t need all this crap to be happening!

She tries to stand her ground as firmly as she can. “What is going on?”

Of course, he ignores her question and presses on harder. “Don’t you want to be free?! Give in! Forget all the bad times you’ve had! Give in!” 

“But–”

And then she feels like she lost the opportunity to get the upper hand.

She gasps harshly as she feels something wrap around her throat, squeezing it tight. She feels her body freeze, and something grabbing onto her limbs to hold her place. Her father, or whoever he is now, looked even more deranged as he gave her look like he was trying to shatter her mind. And maybe he was, maybe he really was the one responsible for the tingling feeling inside, the feeling like her whole life force was being drained. She swears she can hear Will screaming her name again, but the hold on her was drowning out most of her senses. 

Her father, the being, grinned even wider as his hand reached out to hover over her face. “Now… Give in, dear child.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“Stephanie!” Will cries out in desperation, giving her another shake. Why isn’t the music working?! It worked for me!

This can’t be happening. This can’t be how he loses Stephanie. What was he supposed to do if she ended up dead? And what would he tell her family? Tell his family? How will they even believe him?

“Stephanie, come on! Wake up! Please!” He felt his own set of tears start rolling down his delegate cheeks. “I don’t want to lose you!”

I don’t want to lose her. I don’t want to lose her. I don’t want to lo– His pleas were cut off when her body slipped away from his hands. In something he’s only seen in horror films, he watches the teenager start floating into the air. 

Way, way, way up into the air.

He couldn’t even jump up to touch her, grab her to pull her down as she was descending up into the night sky, limbs jittering like they were trying to spring free.

Will didn’t know what else to do but scream her name.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Lucas wakes up in a flash, his friends sighing with relief, and the teenager silently thanking the universe he was alright (He wasn’t sure how they were going to explain this to anyone if he didn’t wake up soon).

“Lucas.” Mike says, happily. “Lucas, you okay?”

“Lucas…” Dustin begins, watching him slowly prop himself up, mind wandering. “Lucas, how many fingers am I holding up?” He holds up three. “Lucas, how many fingers?”

“Hey…” Steve begins, reaching out. “Let me see your head–”

“Get off of me!” Lucas snaps, swatting everyone away.

“Lucas, just let us see–” Mike urges, which results in another slap.

“Get off of me!” He says again, standing up this time, and storming away. 

“Lucas, come on.”

“Let him go.” Dustin replies, stopping him by the arm.

“But what if he–”

“He needs to cool down.”

Steve frowns, still worried that the kid might have a concussion, but what could he do? The kid was irritated, probably still didn’t like him, so more likely he wouldn’t listen (and he wasn’t listening to his friends anyway, so…). 

He sighs, running a hand through his locks, thinking. “This is… insane. That little girl really does have powers.”

“Told you.” Mike said, head hung low in shame.

“Hey, relax. Your friend just needs to–” Steve frowns after counting who was present. “Where is she?”

Dustin and Mike’s eyes begin bolting around in the low light, searching for any signs of her. Them and Steve started shouting her name, concern was evident, and time was the essence. Did she really take off? Did she really feel that guilty about everything she just had to leave? 

“I…” Mike begins, getting mad at himself. “I knew I should have yelled at her like that!”

“Hey, you had every right to do so. She did fling Lucas.” Dustin points out.

“Yeah, but we need her! We need her to find that gate for us.”

“Yeah, but it sounds like she was never going to.”

Mike frowns, that sentence punching him right in the gut. Maybe Lucas was right. Maybe he really was being played for a fool this whole time. “Even if she wasn’t, we still got to find her.”

“We can try, but it’s getting dark.” Dustin says, gesturing to the fading sun. “We don’t even have flashlights.”

“Well, then we’ll go back to our houses to get some.”

“Mike–”

“We have to!”

“Mike, our parents are not going to let us out. Especially if Lucas tells his parents he got hurt hanging out with us today.”

“But–”

“Hey, listen to Henderson, alright?” Steve cuts in, his mind made up about something.

“But, we have to go look for her, Steve!” Mike pushes.

“I get that, but your parents are going to expect you home. And they probably are going to bug me on why we were out so late. So you’re going home.”

“But El–”

“I will look for her.”

Mike blinks. “What?”

“I will look for her, okay?” Steve repeats. “I will go back to my house to change and grab some supplies, and then I’ll come right back here and search around.”

Dustin looks surprised. “You’re actually willing to do that?”

“Yeah. I am.” He nods. “I’ll do my best to try to find her, and if I do, maybe I can convince her to actually help us. Or get her to at least explain why finding this isn’t safe.” He looks between them while finishing with, “But you two need to go home. Let’s not worry your parents. Especially you Henderson. Let’s not make your mom worry about another kid.”

Dustin averts his eyes away, feeling a bit ashamed at the thought of hurting his mother like that. He was so hung up on finding this gate that he didn’t wonder how she must be feeling right now. And she thinks she just buried her daughter today. I can only imagine how worried she is.

“So does that sound reasonable to you guys?” Steve asks, interrupting their thoughts.

“Yeah.” Mike says, nodding. “That sounds reasonable.”

“Good.” He looks at them worriedly before waving for them to start walking. “Let’s head back.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When they arrived they saw her car parked on the side of the road with no one inside. The three of them never got out and slammed their doors that quickly before, as they ran into the woods, flashlights and weapons in hand.

“NANCY!” Jonathan called out, his heart racing what he might find. She had to be okay. He wasn’t sure how he would live with himself if she wasn’t. So he screams out her name again, both his mother and Hopper joining in. 

“Nancy!” Joyce yells, running to look behind every nook and cranny amongst the trees and shrubs. “Nancy!”

“Nancy Wheeler!” Hopper shouts, eyes glue to the ground, looking for any signs of life. 

“Nancy! Where are you?!”

“Nancy!” Jonathan tries again, the guilt in his gut has started to take huge chunks of him now. “Fuck. Fuck…”

“Hey.” His mother says, getting his attention. “Don’t beat yourself up yet. We just started.”

“How can I not, mom?! For all I know is, she’s that thing’s dinner.”

“You don’t know that.” She shakes her head. “You don’t know that.”

“Mom, please, I–”

“Hey!” Hopper says while snapping his fingers. “We might have a problem.” He waited for them to get closer for him to shine his flashlight down by his feet, and there was a trail of blood that stretched further into the woods. “It’s fresh.” He frowns, nervously. “Come on.”

They start following the trail, their breaths caught in their throats. What if this was hers? What if that thing did show up and caught her? Was she still alive? Was she badly hurt? What would the outcome be?

“NANCY!” Jonathan calls out once more, half expecting no reply until–

“Jonathan!”

The three of them paused, startled to hear a girl’s voice. He says her name again, and gets the same reply.

“Shit–” Hopper curses and bolts off, the two of them hot on his tail.

“Nancy!” Jonathan shouts again, the blood path ends right at a tree trunk. But what was at the base of the tree is what made him gag, the sight of something so disgusting with veins oozing out of the bark like it was infected. 

Joyce gasps sharply. “T-That’s it! That was what was on my wall!” 

“And that’s what I saw in the lab.” Hopper replies, crouching down with the rest of them. He brushes away some of the sticky cobwebs, a red hue covering his hand. “What the hell is this th–”

“JONATHAN!!” 

The three of them flinched when they heard her voice again. 

Her voice that was…

Coming out of the tree.

“Nancy!” Jonathan’s eyes widened as slams his fist into the tree, trying to see if he got the bubble to pop. He wasn’t going to lose her like this. Not when she was literally at their fingertips. He tries again, and again, screaming her name.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Stephanie heard her name again in the far distance, and all she could do was move her crying eyes towards the opening. Even in this… whatever this place was, the light was trying to come in, trying to save her from giving in, but…

It was getting so hard to not give in. 

She felt his fingers start brushing the sides of her face, drowning out her favorite song that was likely the last time she’ll ever hear it. 

So this is it. She thought, depressingly. This is how she dies. Not by the cold, nor the starvation, and nor getting killed by the beast, no. She was going to die by an imagination of her father. She felt some more tears roll down her paralyzed body, and started accepting her fate.

If this is it, then I guess I’ve lived… a pretty decent life. She starts closing her eyes, her soul in this force’s grasp–

|| STEPHANIE! WAKE UP! ||

Will… I’m so sorry. Her heart clenches for him. I failed you… I am so–

|| PLEASE, WAKE UP! I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU! ||

She gasps quietly. Will…

|| I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU! NOT LIKE THIS! PLEASE! || 

He’s… he’s not mad at me? 

|| WE’RE SUPPOSED TO GET OUT OF THIS TOGETHER! ||

But, I–

|| WE ARE GOING TO GET OUT OF THIS TOGETHER! SO FIGHT IT! ||

Fight it? Can she? Can she get out of this hold?

Her father must have realized she was thinking this and intervened. “You don’t want to fight it. You want to give in. Let it all go.” He says, making her start doubting again.

Maybe… I should.

|| WHATEVER HAS A HOLD ON YOU, YOU NEED TO FIGHT! FIGHT IT! COME BACK TO ME! ||

Another gasp.

Come back to me.

Come back to me.

He wants her to come back to him. He wants her too. He wants her to be with him.

He wants me to be with him. He actually does.

|| REMEMBER WHAT YOU’RE FIGHTING FOR! WE HAVE TO GO HOME! WE HAVE TO GET HOME TO OUR FAMILIES! REMEMBER WHAT WE HAVE WAITING FOR US WHEN WE GET HOME! ||

Remember.

Remember what she has waiting for her. 

Remember.

Remember everything that brings her joy.

.

// Dustin, meet your big sister // Her Mother said, placing the tiny baby in her arms. Stephanie remembers how happy she was to become a big sister. She remembers how much that title meant to her. 

.

.

She remembers the clown costume she wore for one Halloween. The first one she was hanging out with her brother and his friends. They all decided that year to dress as their D&D characters, and how happy they were when their costume were finally done being made – and how much candy they scored from the creativity of it all.

.

.

She remembers her mom teaching her to sew. She ripped a hole in her favorite shirt, and her mother was patient and kind enough to show how to do it the next time it happens.

// Thanks, mom //

// Anytime, sweetheart //

.

.

It rained halfway through the concert, that warm season rain. But the band kept playing, Munson even cracking a joke about it in the middle of their song. Stephanie laughed in excitement, slicking her locks back from her face as her and the crowd cheered them on.

// This is amazing // She said, looking at her friend. // Thank you //

// Even with the rain? // Steve asked, smiling fondly.

// Even with the rain // And she smiles back.

.

.

// This is the best gift ever! // The eight year old birthday boy, Dustin, shouts, and holds up a vintage X-Men comic. // Thank you, Phanie! //

He almost knocks her over, hugging her tightly and giving one of his rare kisses to her cheek.

.

.

// Hey… Hey… I wanna… I wanna tell you something // Steve slurs, leaning his upper body against the cafeteria table. The two of them had snuck away from the ‘Snow Ball’ and decided to be a little naughty. He somehow managed to sneak in some alcohol to celebrate them going into the Teen Years. 

Stephanie giggles, a bit of a ditzy drunk. // W-What? Spit it out, S-Stevie //

// Ooookay… // He leans forward more. // Fia… I… I l-love you //

She hums, smiling. // Well, I love you too, Steve. //

// Noooo, no. N-Not like that. // He says, partially laying half his body over the table now to grab her hand. // Like… I love you, love you //

.

.

She remembers the second day of being here in this strange place. And despite how scared she was for her and Will, she honestly enjoyed the boy’s company. He reminded her of so much like Dustin, just a bit quieter, unless you were talking about his favorite things.

Steph shakes her head with a sigh. // Oh, well. I guess I’ll have to prove him wrong when I play //

// So you are going to play with us! // Will said, joyfully, like you just told him Christmas was coming early.

// If that’s how I prove Lucas wrong, then so be it. So how does one newbie play D&D? // She asked, hopefully this will keep him occupied. 

.

.

The last thing she remembers is Steve pressing his lips into hers, proving his point that he loves her more than a friend. 

.

.

Stephanie doesn’t know what possessed her, but she snaps her eyes open and uses her new found strength to push her father away from her. Like she was being held by rope, the invisible hold snapped and she fell to her knees, gasping in air. 

Will. I got to get to Will. She tells herself, as she feels someone looming over her. She takes a look and screams. Whoever replaced the appearance of her father was someone who looked inhumane. Its whole body looked burned and bent, some hair stuck out from the top of its head, and it had an eye that looked like it had been blinded. Its pissed off expression was enough to make her scramble away and break for the opening at the end of the darkness. 

She took only a split second to look back as she felt like she broke through an invisible barrier, the gambling room was gone and replaced with an area that was covered in gross vines and scattered in a crimson color. A storm brewed above her, in its own version of thunder and lightning. The figure stayed in one place, watching her try to run away before deciding to create some obstacles.

Stephanie felt the ground shake beneath her, and watched as what looked like spikes shot up and out of the bloody ground. She shrieked and dodged the best she could, trying to stay more hopeful when she could hear ‘Separate Ways’ again, and Will’s cries for her not to give up. 

I can’t give up! I have to go home! She hears her inner thoughts echoed, along with somebody else’s. As she continues breaking into a sprint, something catches her eye. Alongside her she can see a few silhouettes that seemed to be running at the same pace as her. She blinks and turns to the otherside, seeing the same thing.

‘I can’t give up!’ They all shouted, but she couldn’t pinpoint the voices or who these people were supposed to be.

Is this another trick? Or were these other victims of this place? 

Her thoughts were cut off when something fell from the sky, knocking her over, dousing her red. She wastes not a second of hesitation to push herself back up and run, the silhouettes disappearing from her sight. Now, she has to put all her focus on the opening that was starting to grow smaller and smaller. 

She balls her hands into fists, pushing herself to the limit. She hears her name being screamed, and the room rattling more. And as she gets closer and closer to the light, she prays she’d make it through – taking the literal leap of faith, she jumps with all her might into glow…

.

.

.

.

.

.

She screams awake, and begins free falling to the ground. 

“Stephanie!” Will shouts, as the girl went splat across the ground. “Stephanie!”

Steph screams again, shooting up a sitting position as she claws the walkman off her head. She takes in a whole gulp of air that sounds like she’s choking, and panting at the same time. The thought of her almost dying was repeating over and over again on a loop in her mind.

“Stephanie!” He cries out, and tackles her for a hug. “Stephanie…” He squeezes her tight, the reality of it all settling in for the both of them. Tears were rolling down his face as he buried his head into her neck. “Steph… I-I thought I lost you. I r-really, really d-did.”

It took a split second before she broke down crying too, sobbing loudly as she wrapped her arms around him in the same vice grip. The thought of almost leaving him alone in this place scared her so much.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” She whispers, trying to comfort them both. “I’m okay… You saved me…” She hears him start bawling at her words making her break even more. “You saved me… you really did save me…”

And that was one hundred percent the truth. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve manages to get the kids home, bidding them goodbye and reassuring Mike that he was in fact going out to look for El. He just needs to go home first to change out of his suit and get the appropriate equipment. When he arrived home a little after nine, he noticed all the lights were off, and felt a bit of relief.

Good. I can get in and out. But his hopes were just burned at the stake, ‘cause as soon as he opens the door, the living room light turns on. He freezes and winces when he knows who it is.

“You went to her funeral?” His mother said, arms crossed as she was sitting in a chair. 

Jesus Christ, of course… He keeps a straight face to look at her. “My girlfriend asked me to come to Will Byers’ funeral. He was the best friend of her brother. The only reason I went to Stephanie’s is because it was a joint funeral.”

“Joint funeral?” Jessica asks, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. 

“Yeah.” He nods. “The families are close, and they both died together so…”

She hums, standing up, walking over to get right in his face. “You’re not lying to me, are you, Steven?”

“No, Mom. Why would I lie to you?”

“‘Cause you have before.”

“Well not this time. I went there to support Nancy and family through this hard time.”

She hums again, buying his lie this time. “Okay. Just checking.” Then she sighs. “It’s a shame though, the Wheelers are close to those Byers. Not exactly a classy family.” 

Steve felt his blood boil a bit, and had to hold his tongue. He should have foreseen her saying something like this. 

“But…” She continues. “You are dating a Wheeler, so I can let that slide.”

Oh, he really wants to say something to her now, but he doesn’t want to start a war. At least not yet. “Where’s dad?”

“Sleeping. Long day at the office for him.” 

“Sounds like it.” Steve shifts his stance. “Uh, listen, I’m going to uh, hit the hay myself.” He starts making his way towards the stairs. “Night, mom.”

“You going to shower first?” Jessica asks, stopping him again.

He quietly sighs, no point in pushing back. “Yeah, mom, I’ll shower first.”

“Good.” She smiles, and squeezes his shoulder as she passes by. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He lets her go up the stairs first and up to her room before doing the same. Their interaction wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be, probably because he didn’t push back on her like he sometimes did. Steve snags some comfortable clothes in his room while stepping inside the bathroom, turning the shower on. Knowing his mother, she was probably staying up and waiting to see if he actually listened to her “suggestion”. 

Sicko. He thought, shedding off his funeral wear to change into the extras. He cleans his face off, thinking of his plan. El could have gone anywhere, and he wasn’t sure what a one man show like him can do about it. But he’s made a promise to the boys, one that he has to keep.

And for my sake, I have to find her. I need to know if she’s okay. 

He has to.

He needs to.

.

.

.

She might be the key to finding Stephanie.

(TBC)

-A/N: Fin! Thanks for sticking for the two parts :) -

~

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[lfghughes]

Did you see those photos of Mat Barzal in a cowboy hat recently? I feel like it would be a crime not to have some cowboy Mat smut 👀

a/n: oh i sure saw those photos and well i still havent recovered from them

warning: 18++ only, smutty content,

Just when you thought your boyfriend couldn’t get hotter, he went and put a cowboy hat on. You didn’t even know that you thought the whole cowboy look was hot but maybe it was just the combination of Mat with the hat on. It was definitely the combination because as you looked around at the entire crowd no one had you looking twice at them. This was definitely trouble for you because right now you were ready to go get a room but you still had hours left here at Stampedes.

That didn’t mean you didn’t make it obvious that you were a bit on the needier side. Any chance you got to place your hand on Mat and you took it. That went for any chance you got to kiss him you did the same. “Someone is very affectionate tonight.” Mat pointed out with a small smirk. He knew exactly what was going on and you also knew your boyfriend was a tease when he wanted to be.

“I just can’t wait to get you home.” You shrugged your shoulders, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Who said we have to wait until we get home?” He asked and that immediately had you raising your eyebrows. His hand went to the small of your back as he led you through the crowd and eventually out to the parking lot where your car was. “It’s dark no one will notice plus most people are way too drunk to notice regardless.”

Excitement rolled through your body as you both slipped into the car. He immediately pulled you into his lap as his lips attached to yours and it didn’t take him long to get you as undressed as he possibly could. Mat moved to take his hat off when you grabbed a hold of his hand. “Leave it on.” You told him and a smirk appeared on his lips as his hands went to his belt instead. Your own hands went to his length, pumping it a few times before you adjusted yourself on top of him.

You slid down his length, a small moan leaving your lips as you felt him fill you up. His hands went to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided you down on him. “Fuck, baby girl. You feel so good.” His words came out in a whisper as one of his hands went to your hair, his fingers tangling in the locks and pulling your head back so his lips had better access to your neck. His other hand stayed on your hip, helping guide you and keep the rhythm.

You picked up your pace a little as you rocked into him and you felt his lips travel up from your neck to your ear. “Are you going to cum for me, baby girl?” He asked his hand moved from your hip, dipping in between the two of you as he rubbed his thumb against you. That was all it took for pleasure to take over your body as moans left your lips. After he came too and you both rode out your orgasm together, you let your body sag against his. “You know what they say right?” His voice came out in a hoarse whisper. At his words you pulled away slightly to look at him “What?” You asked and the grin that grew on his lips showed whatever he was about to say he thought was clever “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”

[ofsappho]

Heartless CHAPTER 8.5

🔞 Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience

-

You and Ghost get into a fight when he refuses to go dancing with you

-

Hello. I know it’s been a while 😭😭😭 I’m so so so sorry. Thank you all again for your patience. This was supposed to be one big chapter, but I thought I’d post what I have now just to make everyone happier while I work on the rest. A lot of smut in the next chapter. Hope y’all enjoy. YES THIS IS THE SET UP FOR GETTING DICKED DOWN BY COWBOY HAT GHOST. PLEASE BEAR WITH ME.

If one were to go off your husband’s tone, they’d think you just walked out of the bathroom in a stained brown paper bag. “You’re not goin’ out,” Ghost says after re-locating his jaw to its natural position under his balaclava.

“Hm. Thank you for your input, Ghost, but I wasn’t aware that I’d asked.”

You spin around with a huff and march back into the bathroom to examine your appearance, flinging the door open with such force that it slams into the wall.

Before you can shut it behind you, maybe lock it just to piss him off, your husband braces a veiny forearm on the doorframe and leans in. “You’re not. Not like that.”

“Why? What’s wrong with the way I look?” You ask as you go in with more blue glitter on your eyelids.

“You know what I mean.” His voice rumbles gruff and low.

And you can see his eyes looking at your ass through your cutoff denim shorts in the mirror. “Am I ugly? You don’t like it?”

Said shorts make your legs look fifteen miles long and are cut almost indecently short, accentuating your full hips and flattering your tummy. To fit the night's theme, you have on a very nice push-up bra with a white crop top tied in a bow under your boobs. And black cowboy boots, of course.

You have a matching hat somewhere…

Ghost rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’…” He sighs.

“Gorgeous, doll. Don’t pout. C’mere.” Then he reaches out and snags you by the waistband of your shorts, pulling you into his tall frame. You go easily, unable to resist him even if you wanted to.

Ghost tugs his balaclava down to chastely kiss your cheek. “Prettiest bird I’ve ever seen.” Please, like you can’t feel him pawing your butt with a gloved hand.

You rock yourself back, barely grinding against him. “Then I’m going out. Like this,” You tell him. You bat his hands aside to face him, your nose inches away from his mask. “You can come with me if that would make you feel better.”

Did Ghost really expect you would be content to twiddle your thumbs at the barracks and not explore London? You were pleasantly surprised to find a thriving line dance scene in this part of the world, and doing silly little dances while sort of drunk to cheesy country music sounds like your idea of a good time.

So this lovely Saturday night, you decided, ‘Why the fuck not?’ You can handle your sore back tomorrow.  And now you’re trying to convince your stubborn mountain of a husband to tag along.

Ghost releases you so quickly that you stumble and have to catch yourself. “I don’t dance,” He says in a flat, deeply unenthusiastic voice.

“Please? It’ll be fun!” This might be a little cliche, but you’ve never gone on a date with him before. You’ve spent your time hanging around him and his team, wherever they may be, and yeah, you signed up for that…

But you want a date. You want overpriced drinks and holding his hand as you walk down the street. Something more. That doesn’t seem as unreasonable as he’s making it out to be.

“I don’t dance.” He turns away without looking twice and strides out into the bedroom. Ghost’s coldness hurts more than his rejection.

You don’t understand why you care so much about something so small. If he were anyone else, you’d take the L, move on, and go where you’re appreciated. “I wouldn’t even make you-“ You try, still staring at his back and wishing he’d meet your gaze.

But you don’t want someone else. You want him, just for the night. Have you asked him for anything else before? You haven’t.

“No.” Oh, is Ghost suddenly too good to be seen with you in public? Marrying you under false pretenses is fine, but God fucking forbid you go to a bar together?

“But-“

He snorts. “Fuck no.” He strips off his gloves before tossing them on the bedside table, clearly uninterested in discussing this further. “Christ, woman. Don’t look at me like that. Can’t you take no for an answer?”

You look at yourself again in the mirror. Blue eyeshadow, long, fluttery fake eyelashes. Pink lipgloss dabbed on your mouth. And glitter on your eyelids and cheekbones, like a goddamn fairy.

You’re too beautiful to be upset and too beautiful to sit around doing nothing with a man who couldn’t give less of a fuck.

Where is your cowboy hat?

You find it buried in a suitcase. “Ugh. Why are you being such an inconsiderate asshole? Go fuck yourself,” You snap as you set the hat neatly atop your hair. Then you grab your phone and send a couple of messages. Soap might be free, and you’d even settle for Sergeant Garrick or Alejandro.

You have your IDs stashed in your bra, along with some pounds. You do a once-over in the mirror and brush some imaginary lint off your cleavage.

“Where are you-“

You cut him off. “Out. If you won’t dance with me, I’ll find someone who will.” Someone who won’t make you want to cry, whose dismissal won’t feel so awful. You’re not interested in testing out the durability of your mascara.

“Love-“ You can hear his heavy footsteps heading your way.

Unfortunately for him, you’re already in the living room, making a beeline straight for your front door.

Your phone dings.

“Alejandro is free. I’ll see you later, baby. Don’t wait up,” You call over your shoulder, too upset to look back.

Your mouth presses into a flat, pinched line. You’ll get so drunk you won’t remember this fight and exhaust yourself dancing, and tomorrow, you can go back to pretending like you don’t care about Simon.

-

Music pounds in your ears. A man croons over guitars and banjos and a trilling piano in a thick Southern accent as Colonel Vargas turns you around the dance floor of this American-themed pub. The place is so over-the-top that you find it charming - everyone’s dressed like you, in cowboy hats and boots, and you hear more than a few lousy imitation American accents. Very quaint.

Blue and magenta lights drape all of the dancers in a riotous rainbow of color. There’s a mix of clumsy young folks your age, out for a cheeky pint with the lads, so to speak, and older regulars who came here for the same reason you did; to dance.

Alejandro has a very respectful hand on the small of your back as he effortlessly guides you side to side, forward and back.

You relax and let yourself sway with his pace, your feet moving perfectly in time, even once you stop consciously thinking about it. “You’re good at this!” You say loud enough so he can hear you over the music.

Alejandro flashes a white-toothed grin at you from under the brim of his black hat, the band trimmed in shining sterling silver.

“I’d hope so. Back home, in Las Almas, we go dancing a lot. Rudy and I.” He falls silent to guide you past a few people conducting themselves far less elegantly than the two of you.

You feel as though you’ve just stumbled on some great secret and found worthy by the keepers.

“Rudy?”

Alejandro’s face is a sight to behold. You can see a red tinge on his tanned cheeks under the lights. “My, uh, how do you say it? Los Vaqueros. He is my… vaquero.” Cowboy. His dark eyes glimmer, and you understand. Alejandro and his Rudy are continents apart, and you can taste their chemistry from where you stand. You feel it thrumming under Alejandro’s skin, like the mere mention of Rudy is enough to bring him to life in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Back, back, there you go. Out and-“ He lets go of your other hand and pulls back, leaving you plenty of space.

Your hair fans out around you as you twirl towards him on the balls of your feet. “Spin. Very smooth, Colonel,” You compliment. One of his arms wraps around your waist, and the other folds gracefully over your chest.

You untangle your limbs from Alejandro as if you’ve been dance partners for years. “Sounds like you haven’t seen your cowboy in a while.”

“I haven’t. Our jobs keep us busy,” He says. His voice is quiet, a timid undercurrent of sound that you can barely hear over the speakers.

“He serves?”

Girls covered in dark orange tan and shimmering body lotion spill onto the dance floor in a mess of giggles. Alejandro deftly pulls you out of their chaotic path before you fall over them on your ass.

“We served together,” He says as he dips you with a solid arm supporting your back.

Rudy must make Alejandro so happy. “How romantic.” Ghost would never smile like the Colonel does. But what would Simon look like if he were so happy? Would his voice soften? Would he dance with you, even alone in your apartment?

“Sometimes.” Your dance partner catches your hat right before it slips off your head.

You squeeze his shoulder in gratitude. “He sounds like a wonderful man. I hope I get to meet him one day.” 

“Stick around long enough, and you might.”

“Well, then I’ll plan on it.”

The song ends, and something less suited to two-stepping plays next.

The two of you have drinks on a table next to the dance floor. You’re not worried about anyone tampering with them; Alejandro has already scared off any fellow who so much as looked your way. “He’d like you,” He murmurs to himself.

You have your Corona with lime, Alejandro has been working on a glass of expensive tequila all night, sipping it as delicately as if he were drinking tea.

He’s looking at you funny. The way you’re chugging this beer is probably not helping. You finish it and wince at the taste.

“You want to talk about what Lt. Riley said to make you so sad, hermanita?”

You didn’t even tell Ghost where you were going. That’s how fucking mad you were. You turned your phone off once you met with Alejandro, not wanting to see any calls or messages that would’ve broken your resolve. But there’s a worse possibility - that there aren’t any calls or messages at all.

“Not really.” You let the empty bottle thump as you drop it on the sticky, barely clean table.

His disinterest isn’t supposed to be a bad thing. Ghost could be cruel, or unkind, or abusive. You’re very lucky he isn’t any of that.

Kind, handsome, and affectionate in his own way is a hell of an improvement. For a moment, you feel ashamed that you want more. So what if he hates dancing enough to curse at you over it? So what if he doesn’t know who you are, the things you like and don’t like, your favorite movies, or why you avoid your mother’s calls?

You busy yourself with looking at everyone else so you don’t have to meet Alejandro’s knowing gaze. “Sí. Whatever you say,” He sighs into his tequila. Hopefully, that’s the end of the questioning.

Of course, it isn’t. “That one is… Rudy doesn’t like El Espectro.” Alejandro’s brow furrows as he thinks over his following words. “But I wouldn’t want anyone else on my side.” There’s more than a little respect in his voice and the kind of confidence in your husband that makes you want to be a bit more confident, too.

“Sometimes I think he wants me on his side. Then I remember that he’s a stranger, really, and I’m fucking projecting. Projecting that he’ll ever want me more than, you know, normal.” Maybe the beer is making you chattier than usual. You can feel shit you’d never say out loud just flow from your mouth.

Alejandro snorts. “He definitely wants you. We all know that. It’s very clear,” He quips, snapping you straight out of your vulnerability.

“Ugh, shut up,” You tell him as you blush a bright red under your makeup and knock your elbow into one of his buff arms.

He leers at you across the table, waggling his dark eyebrows and grinning once you start giggling. “Why do you think Soap has those new earplugs, eh?”

“Gross!” In revenge, you make a play for his drink. You don’t love anything harder than a glass of wine, but you’ll make an exception to spite Alejandro.

He laughs, holding his glass above his head where you can’t reach it. “I’m just playing!” Alejandro waits until you’re sulking in your seat before setting it down. “I won’t tell you you’re wrong, necessarily. But- but I think you’re underestimating him. Lots of people do. Ghost always gets the jump on ‘em. He might get the jump on you.” You gaze longingly at the remnants of his tequila. 

“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. It’ll just ruin my night. I need another drink.” That will solve your problems, at least temporarily. You’re not supposed to drink on your meds, but technically you’ve already started. In for a penny, in for a pound. And those rules are just suggestions, not hard restrictions.

The very friendly bartender with a thick British accent you can barely understand and nice eyeliner hands you one lemon drop shot, then another after you down the first. It burns like lightning in your esophagus. But the burn eventually turns into a pleasant tingle, warming you from head to toe.

You’re working on your third shot when Alejandro catches up to you. “Careful,” He calls over your shoulder.

You wave away his concern, another drink already in hand. This one is a rum and Coke, way too heavy on the rum. Did the pretty bartender do that on purpose, one girl to another? You like her even more.

The next song comes on - something loud and awful, its catchy beat punctuated by dubstep rooster crows.

“Come on, I fucking love this song,” You say, just barely slurring your syllables. “I’m not gonna shake my ass alone.”

-

GHOST POV

Your phone is off.

Ghost is embarrassed to admit he’s checked every hour since you’ve been gone. At least three hours, now bordering on four. And he knows your phone is off because when he calls, it goes straight to your fuckin’ voicemail. Which you haven’t set up yet, so he’s stuck listening to some stupid robot telling him to “leave a message after the tone.”

It’s driving him almost as mad as you are. When you get back - not if, when, the second thing he’s going to make you do is change that goddamn voicemail message.

The first thing is something along the lines of “make you sorry.” Ghost hasn’t ironed out the details yet. No matter. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

It’s dark out. It’s been dark out this whole time. You left with the sunset at your back.

While he knows Col. Vargas is with you, London is large. You’ve never been here before. Col. Vargas ain’t half bad with a map, but he’s not from around these parts either.

Maybe you never made it to… wherever you were going. How the fuck would Ghost know? How the fuck would anyone know?

He’s even angrier with himself that he was too much of a prick to listen when you mentioned it.

In the privacy of your quarters, Ghost pulls his mask off to run his hands through his shorn hair. The hair you cut.

It’s so quiet when he’s alone. This is the first time since- since you married him that he’s been alone.

You hum. A lot. Or you listen to music on your dinky wired earbuds, and he catches the sounds of your foot tapping along.

You snore, though not loudly. He’d never tell you, and he’s certainly slept under worse conditions. But it’s… nicer to kit up for the day, to brush his teeth and roll on his socks, knowing someone there will be waiting when he gets back.

Fuck.

Did you take the Tube? Buy a ticket? Oyster cards are cheaper, but you wouldn’t know that. Ghost should’ve told you. He should’ve been at your side.

He’s watched you struggle with the unfamiliar currency. You had all sorts of odd American notions about coins and exchange rates. Ghost had to correct you twice. After that, he secretly swapped out some of your dollar bills for pounds so that you’d be alright no matter what.

He left you with more than enough for a cab there and back. But what if the cabby overcharged you after hearing your accent? What if-

It’s a major metropolitan area. Criminals abound. Kidnappers driving ‘round cabs, stalkers, nonces. Statistically, at least one serial killer or two.

God-fucking-damn it.

You could be dead in a ditch, all because he didn’t want to go dancing. In hindsight, it doesn’t seem worth the quarrel.

This place is too quiet without you in it. He can’t stand to sit here in silence a second longer, staring at the lack of notifications on his phone and seeing shadows in the corners of the room. Closing his eyes won’t chase them away - he’s tried.

Simon only sees you covered in blood, a hole in your pretty head. Or duct tape over your mouth and your clothes ripped off, or you lost and alone in some alley, never to come home. Another name on the list of people he’s-

That’s enough of that.

He slips his gloves on, then pulls his daily wear mask over his head. Ghost has been choosing the balaclava more often. It’s something softer and a little civilian for you.

Not like you’re even here to appreciate it, he grumbles internally.

He runs the last moments he saw you over in his head a few times. You said Vargas was free, implying there may have been other options, but the Colonel was the first to respond. Ghost will eat his mask if Sgt. MacTavish wasn’t one of those other options.

The front door slams into the wall with more force than necessary. It makes a satisfyingly loud bang.

As Ghost picks his way through corridors he knows like the back of his hand, he thinks he should have told you again how beautiful you were. You would have left with a smile and kiss instead of a cold scowl.

He’s only being a good husband that watches out for you. That’s it. Ghost takes pride in being good at damn near everything, other than driving, so it’s natural for him to get worked up. Worked up is the wrong phrase. That implies that he’s agitated. He’s not agitated.

Is that a trace of your perfume he smells? Couldn’t be. Doesn’t make sense. Perfume doesn’t linger that long in the air. Ghost can smell gunpowder from a kilometer away and old blood three city blocks over.

And you. The scent is too faint for his comfort. If he can’t touch you soon, can’t gorge his eyes on your face and leave teeth marks in your skin, something’s gonna break.

Ghost leaves a boot print on the door to the communal bunks as he kicks it open. “Sgt,” He calls out curtly.

Surely, man-to-man, Soap can be reasoned with?

“Ah, so you’ve decided to show your face. Well, mask.”

Apparently not.

Irritation prickles down Ghost’s spine. “So that’s the way it’s gonna be.”

Soap finally condescends to get out of his bunk and stare Ghost down like he’s shit on the bottom of the sergeant’s shoe. “You’re a right eejit, Lt,” The other man snaps, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ghost doesn’t have time for this. “Where’d she go?”

“Fuck should I tell you for?”

His patience and self-control and restraint are hanging by a fucking thread, and Johnny’s disdain is like the edge of sharp scissors against it. Is Ghost the only person on this goddamn planet who cares about your well-being? Including yourself?

You’d be displeased if Ghost got your best friend’s blood under his nails. Very displeased. Simon holds onto that reminder for dear life.

“You out your fuckin’ mind? She could be-, “ At this rate, Ghost will never snap at you again. One go at this circus is more than enough for him.

“Ain’t my job tae find your wife,” Soap growls as he sticks a finger in Ghost’s face.

The sergeant is wasting precious fucking time treating Ghost like he’s the bad guy, and you could be gone by now. Ghost has bigger fucking priorities.

Simon misses America - which is something he never thought he’d think. England is full of his ghosts, moments away from breaking out of their graves. In your homeland, you were safe.

“You’re supposed to be her best mate. You don’t know where she is?”

Soap gnashes his teeth, his eyes glinting with fury. “Should fuckin’ kill you, you know that? Awa’ an’ bile yer heid.”

“I’ll come back and beat you black and blue after I find her.” Ghost’s brain teems with swarming, sticky thoughts, blacker than an oil slick. He needs- he’s not sure why he can’t breathe. His heart rate picks up, and he doesn’t know why and it needs to not do that.

He needs you.

“Worry about yourself, Ghost. I won’t need tae do a goddamn thing. She’ll have you on your knees like a dog.” Soap pauses. “You made her fucking cry.” His words hang in the air like a noose around Ghost’s neck.

“Wasn’t tryin’ to,” Simon retorts. Then he shuts his mouth and thanks God that the mask hides his face. He sounds like a whiny, immature brat and certainly feels like one. Not a man, not the kind of man he should be for you.

“I told you not tae hurt her.”

Ghost remembers. With vivid clarity. “…” On the tip of his tongue hangs the thought that Soap hadn’t needed to. Ghost took one good look at you in that dress, the simpering sweetness in your eyes replaced by razor-sharp steel in an instant, and he knew he could never hurt you.

But what Soap meant is that he’d trusted Ghost with someone precious, and today, that trust was shattered. “Aye, so ya can put a shot in some poor sucker’s head from 2,500 meters, but ya can’t spend time with the woman you married? And be fuckin’ polite to her?” The sergeant’s tone is so caustic he could use it to clean a Scorpion’s engine.

Simon is familiar with guilt. Guilt has been his companion his whole life. The kind of guilt that can never be cleaned because the people he wronged won’t come back.

This is a new kind of guilt. One with the hope of absolution. It makes him deeply uncomfortable, almost nauseous.

“…I can’t make it up to her if I’m not with her.”

That tiny concession still isn’t enough. “Useless. Absolutely fuckin’ useless,” Soap mutters.

“Johnny, you ‘bout done takin’ the piss out of me?”

“Right now, that’s Sgt. MacTavish to you, Lt.”

Dammit. “Sgt. MacTavish. Sir.” There’s blue glitter on the sink back home from where you were dusting it across your face. Pretty shade of blue. But Ghost had turned away when you stormed out, so he can’t remember how it looked on you.  “Please.” Did it run when you cried? He hopes not. You shouldn’t waste tears on a bastard like him.

Soap doesn’t speak for some time.

Simon feels some odd, heart-wrenching, panicky desperation build and build, his hands grow clammy under the gloves.

His phone buzzes, and for a second, Ghost hopes it’s you. But it’s not - Soap’s sent him an address. Some shitty little pub not more than a half-hour drive.

“There. Don’t come back until you’ve proper apologized. An’ if you make her cry again? I’ll dummy-cord ya head to ya hand since you’ve lost your goddamn mind.”

Under Ghost’s mask, there’s the tiniest smile.

Soap claps him on the shoulder. “Now get out of here.”

-

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[serensational]

hello i would die for a sneak peak of your cowboy au 🫡🫡

ask and you shall receive 😘

-

take a shot lemon drop (then we'll rock all night)

“Next up, rider number 17, Eddie Diaz on Sirocco!” She called into the microphone with fake enthusiasm, but Buck’s was all sincere. He finally perked up, clapping a little more heartily along with everyone else. He craned his neck to see what was happening, and he finally caught a glimpse of Eddie– well, his horse, anyway. She was a gorgeous American Quarter Horse, a bigger one too, coming in at around sixteen hands. She had a silky, dark and dusty brown coat, lighter dusky dapples covering her. Her muscles flexed in the dingy lighting, accented with her perfectly fitted tack. The only thing better than the horse, in Buck’s opinion, was the rider. 

Eddie sat atop his horse with the confidence of someone who had already won. And knowing Eddie, Buck didn’t doubt that was what was going through his mind at the moment. He was clad in dark-wash jeans, and Buck could appreciate how they hugged Eddie’s ass and thighs. As for a top, he was wearing a deep maroon button-up, folded up to his elbows. His biceps tested the seams of it, and Buck had to swallow thickly. He was freshly shaven and atop his head sat a black leather cowboy hat. Eddie walked Sirocco around in a circle before lining her up with the entrance to the arena, and there seemed to be a unanimous lull of anticipation in the crowd’s cheers. 

Buck watched with reciprocated anticipation, waiting for the horn to blare signaling the start of the run. A few silent beats went by, then said horn blared, and Sirocco was off. Cheers erupted from all around as Eddie guided the horse effortlessly around the first barrel, making a sharp turn and beelining for the second. Buck felt like his eyes couldn’t keep up with how fast Eddie was going. It was like he was entranced. Everyone before Eddie seemed a bore, but now he could barely take his eyes off the other. He looked completely in his element, back muscles flexing against his shirt as he rounded the last barrel. Buck’s mouth fell half-open, and then he was balling his hands up as he spared a glance at the big analog timer on the wall. 

“Come on, come on,” Buck murmured to himself, watching as Eddie booked it towards the exit. He watched as Eddie kicked Sirocco’s sides, and somehow the horse got faster, and then it was over. Eddie was across the threshold, calming Sirocco down. There was a beat of silence, and then the crowd roared louder than he’d heard the whole day. Buck launched up along with the rest of them, clapping ferociously and cupping his hands around his mouth to whoop and holler. Eddie had claimed the title of fastest runner by two seconds. 

Buck suddenly felt an overwhelming surge of pride and admiration, and he didn’t know what to do with it. Eddie slowly walked Sirocco around and waved towards the crowd at his claim of the new record, eyes scanning all the people. Buck watched as he turned the horse in his direction and walked towards his side of the stands, eyes still flitting over the crowd. Their eyes locked then, and Eddie’s smile grew exponentially, into that infamous, toothy grin that Buck begrudgingly adored. Eddie reached up and took his hat off, clutching it against his chest, hair mussed and sweaty. His sun-marked skin shimmered with a sheen of sweat, and Buck selfishly ogled him for a minute.  Some girl in front of him distantly squealed, probably thinking Eddie was looking at her, but Buck knew he wasn’t. Blood rushed behind Buck’s ears and it overtook the shrill and boisterous cheers of the crowd, and he felt his cheeks heat up. It felt like it was only him and Eddie right now, everyone else some distant apparitions that were miles away. Just them two. But then Eddie winked and blew a kiss at him, and the thundering of Buck’s heart (metaphorically) stopped. 

Oh. 

Oh.

 He was so very, royally fucked.

-

this is just a snippet, but this has been soooo fun to write so far oml, hope you enjoy!!!

[superblysubpar]

Sweet Little Lies:

steve harrington x fem!older! reader

A/N: Wow wow wow, I don’t even wanna talk about how long it’s taking me to get to requests. I really appreciate your patience and I hope you like it! Also, as always, I have to thank my sweet friends for telling me to stop overanalyzing and always helping me make things the best they can be.

Summary: Steve Harrington has been landscaping your yard all week and you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with the younger man. | masterlist | steve's music | illusions to smut - 18+

WC Range: 3k-5k

Warnings: age gap between reader and Steve (Steve’s at least 21), use of Y/L/N, reader has image / self esteem insecurities, illusions to smut, kissing

It's the kind of hot that has your hair piled up on the top of your head, pieces falling out and sticking to the sweat coated skin of your neck. The kind that has you wearing practically nothing as you wander through your house. The distinct scents of lemon, raspberry, and mint from the lemonade you made mixing with the freshly mowed grass that's just outside the open windows you're trying not to gawk in front of.

It's the kind of hot that involves shirtless, sweating, baseball hat wearing, dirty Steve Harrington.

Maybe if he catches you with your mouth open you can blame your lack of composure on the sweltering heat. 

That's it. 

The heat has fried your brain.

Because that is the only acceptable reason for a grown woman to be biting her lip as she watches a man who's significantly younger than her carry large bags of…soil? Fertilizer? Rocks? You could care less as you watch the muscles in his tanned and sweat slick back tense and vibrate with each of his movements. 

And to give yourself credit, there really is nothing wrong with what you're doing and there are plenty of perfect reasons for you to be staring. It's not like he's so much younger than you that it'd be absurd - he's a man. He's not a boy. He can legally buy alcohol and cigarettes and...you'll have to check about renting a car. But, he is young enough for you to know that this is as far as it'll get - you staring and daydreaming out the window while he landscapes your yard, telling yourself little lies about what could be.

Steve drops the bag with a groan and reaches up and removes his cap, running dirty hands through his floppy auburn locks before turning the hat backwards and grabbing a wheelbarrow, veins in his sun-kissed forearms outlined by sweat and soil visible from the window and you audibly moan.

That's just not fucking fair.

Steve turns his head, like he heard you and then you realize - wait did he hear you?

He sets the wheelbarrow down, hand rising to block the sun as he squints in your direction and calls, "Did you say something?"

fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Clearing your throat, you cringe at the high pitch your tone takes as you call out, “Um, ye-yeah! Do you want some lunch?”

Steve flips his wrist, glancing at his watch while grabbing a white shirt hanging from a chair on your deck as he calls back, “Sure!”

Heading towards your fridge, you’re pulling out sandwich fixins and the lemonade you made, turning around you almost smack right into Steve, nearly dropping the pitcher as you jump, “Oh!”

His hands steady the glass, fingers brushing yours and you’re pretty sure the lights hum and flicker, like the charge of your skin touching caused a shortage. 

He laughs, eyes squinting as he smiles, “Sorry, I thought you heard me come in, but I guess…” he gestures to the radio playing far too loudly and you spin to turn it down and he continues, stealing the pitcher from you and setting it on your counter, “I get it, Fleetwood Mac requires the volume to be loud.”

Humming a quiet agreement, you gesture to the food on the counter and he raises his hands and nods towards your kitchen sink and you step aside to let him pass, pinching your eyes closed briefly as his shoulder brushes yours. 

As Steve washes his hands you’re able to analyze the details of him with more appreciation now that he’s closer. This has been your favorite part of every day for the last week, seeing the way his muscles relax as he eats, the way he narrows his eyes to assure he gets the dirt off of his hands before helping himself to the food. Today, his white shirt clings to the sweat of his torso, highlighting the toned muscles and dark chest hair peeking through the top. As you watch the sweat from under his backwards cap bead down his jaw and neck, you’re fairly certain he has at least three new freckles and without thinking, you speak, “Do you have sunblock on?”

His lips twitch up in the corner on one side, nudging the faucet handle off with his wrist as he looks at you and shakes loose droplets into the sink, asking, “What?”

“You…uh…” closing your eyes you spin and sit at the counter, starting to pour the lemonade while chastising yourself - get it together you are not a lovesick teenager, Y/N, before continuing, “Just, it’s so hot out, and you’ve been out in the sun all week and I realized I never offered you any. I have some, under the cabinet in the bathroom if you want some, which I really think you should take it because you have two new-oh shit!”

In your embarrassing babbling, you did not pay attention to the glasses overfilling, lemonade splashing on the counter and down the front of your shirt and you stand abruptly as Steve lunges forward with a towel. 

“Sorry, geez this is just…” staring at the floor and counter and then down at yourself, “a mess.”

Steve smiles softly, hands grabbing another towel, “I think you should take it easy on yourself, Ms. Y/L/N, it’s just lemonade.”

“Steve, I told you please call me-” he nods, interrupting you.

“I know, I know, it’s just…” he pulls your hand gently up, towel wrapping around your forearm and slowly wiping lemonade from your skin as he continues, “You’re older than me.”

Heart sinking into your stomach, you try to act like that sentence didn’t just gut you, sarcasm dripping out of your pursed lips, “Wow, I had no idea.”

He smiles, eyebrows furrowing together like he’s deep in thought as his hand in the towel works up your arm. You watch his gaze land across your shoulders and chest, up your neck until he’s staring directly at you, “You don’t seem older than me. So I think I need to call you that…to remind myself that I…that we can’t…”

He trails off and the room feels fuzzy. Like someone closed all the windows and turned the heat up even higher. His eyes seem to roam over your face like they’re taking you in in all the ways you’ve been doing to him during the week, noticing his distinct pause on your lips. His hand and the towel rests on your shoulder, the other dangerously close to yours on the counter. The distance between your bodies draws closer like you’re magnetic, the intoxicating scent of grass, sunscreen and something distinctly Steve filling the tight space between you. 

Scents that you’ve only gotten whiffs of all week in passing, never this close to each other fill your nose and cloud your brain. It’s earthy and natural and…minty? His face is close enough to yours that you’re sure the mint is from his slightly parted mouth, and you’re desperate to close the remaining distance and test your theory. Eyes more green than you can usually see from the line between you that you try to keep. They’re mossy, like the work he does has encroached on every aspect of his life - in the strength and tone of his muscles, the scent of his cologne, and the color of his eyes. 

Steve’s thumb brushes up your neck, grazing baby hairs behind your ear as he moves to cradle your jaw and something finally clicks, connecting your body and your brain and you take a step back, whispering, “Steve…we…”

He blinks a few times, smiling shortly and collects the towels, tossing them in the sink. You’re suffocating in the thick and heavy tension and heat filled room, so you start to back away, “I actually…I should go start getting ready?”

Steve continues to wipe his hands and doesn’t look at you as he asks, “Ready?”

Rubbing the back of your neck before folding your arms in front of you and shrugging as you reply, “I just have this blind date sort of thing my friend set me up on. It’s just drinks, maybe dinner, and it probably won’t even…it’s not a big deal…” you're embarrassed by your information dump, especially after what it seemed like might have just almost happened with him. 

Steve glances at you over his shoulder, hands leaning on the counter to allow the veins in his forearms to stand out more as he clears his throat, “Well, he’s a lucky guy. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

Simply nodding once at his statement, you turn before you can say or do anything to embarrass yourself further, wandering to your bedroom to get ready. Because, what does he mean ‘he’s a lucky guy’? Is he jealous? Does he wish it were him? Were you really about to just kiss each other? 

Pressing your forehead to the door of your bedroom as you close it, you take several deep breaths trying to fight the overwhelming urge to run back to him and explore what potentially almost happened. 

But Steve is young, he doesn’t know what he wants, and you are older - used and bruised, and unworthy of his attention. He has a whole life to live, and you’re realizing you’ve let the sweet little lies you’ve been telling yourself all week cloud your judgment - it will never work. 

Showering the sticky lemonade off of yourself, you try to let thoughts of what could have been with him fall down the drain with the water, a clean slate - a realistic slate. Because as you think about going on this date, you can’t help but think about how you would perhaps never go on a normal date with Steve. The difference in your age would always be a looming presence, whether you both cared to acknowledge it. It would be felt in judgment and stares from strangers and even your friends, it would be felt in his curiosity of someone younger, age appropriate, and a life he could have with them, and in your guilt of taking that all away from him. 

Pressing your palms to your cheeks, you squeeze your eyes closed and remind yourself that you have no idea how Steve thinks of you, and you’ve let yourself wrap yourself up in these delusions and it is time to let them go. 

As the hours pass, you hear Steve back out in your yard and you refuse to look out the windows again, ignoring the soft grunts that fall from his lips or his voice singing along to the portable radio he always has softly playing. 

Bringing yourself to your entryway, you analyze the way your new black dress clings and hugs your body, trying to remind yourself that the curves, dips, and plush parts of your it look good and are lovely and not a bad thing like you’ve been let to believe by past relationships or society. 

When you enter the kitchen, you finally risk a glance out the back door to see Steve has finished the landscaping, loading his materials and putting them away and you sigh. It seems fitting, he’ll move on, you’ll go on this date and you’ll forget about the week you’ve had with each other. 

The phone ringing pulls you out of the bittersweet staring and you answer only to feel all the progress you’ve made with yourself plummet lower than the floor beneath your heels you’re kicking off. Of course he’s canceling. Of course the first date you’ve been on in years can’t even make it to see you before canceling. 

Pulling out a bottle of wine, you start to pour yourself a large glass and you’re removing an earring and tossing it on the counter when the sliding door opens. 

“Hey, I’m all finished up and I just wanted to say, about earlier, I…” you glance up to see him blinking at you with wide eyes. His cheeks are flushed pink and you tell yourself that it must be from the sun, but then he has to go and say something sweet and stupid as he gulps and whispers out, “Wow, you look…oh my god you look so beautiful.”

Tears spring out onto your lashes in record time and you force a laugh out in hopes to ward off their decent down your cheeks as you remove the other earring, “Steve, please don’t-”

“You do though. You look…” he clears his throat, tapping his knuckles against the counter, “Sorry, you look really lovely and have fun on your date, you’re gonna knock him dead.”

Bringing the glass up to your lips, you mumble, “I’m not going. He canceled,” a tear falls and you quickly wipe at it before continuing, “What about earlier were you going to say?”

Steve takes a careful step around the counter, eyes unabashedly roaming over your body and you instinctively wrap an arm around yourself, trying to make yourself smaller and hide any insecurities you’ve ever had from him. 

He notices and grabs your hand, pulling it away from your body, thumb brushing your knuckles as he stares at your intertwined hands before finding your face, “That guy is an idiot.”

You start to try to pull your hand away and he grabs both of your hands, drawing you closer to him as he confidently says, “Let me take you on a date. A proper one, not just drinks. You deserve a five course meal and dancing and a horse drawn carriage ride or something.”

Before you can respond, he kisses your cheek softly, lips dragging across your skin and raising goosebumps over your entire body as he places another kiss below your ear, hands moving to your hips as your breath hitches. His mouth wet and hot as it trails over your skin like he’s savoring it and he squeezes you tighter and closer to him when you don’t push him away but instead let your arms wrap around his neck. 

Stumbling backwards, he presses you into the wall and you try to stifle a moan as his teeth graze your neck before he begins sucking a bruise into your skin, bunching the clinging fabric of your dress into his hands as yours ache to card through the hair so close to your fingertips. All the thoughts, daydreams, and lies you had finally discarded rush back to you as his tongue swirls soothingly around the new mark he just gave you. Sense and realism push through the haze of lust and you try to tell him that this isn’t going to work. 

“Steve,” his name comes out of you in a barely audible breath. 

His lips brush down the column of your throat as he hums in response. 

“What…what are we doing?” Your eyelids flutter as he leaves a trail of soft kisses down your shoulder and you push out the rest of your thought, “Steve, you don’t want this, you don’t want me.”

Your words stop his kissing and he pulls away just enough to look you in the eyes. His hand reaches up to cradle your jaw, a calloused thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he whispers, “Who made you believe you aren't worthy of this kind of love?”

His question renders you speechless - it settles in the air around you, heavy and hazy like the Indiana heat and makes you a little dizzy. Staring into his eyes, you’re desperate to see something in them that you’ve always yearned for in others. As they soften in their gaze upon yours, his thumb sending electric buzzing through you as it brushes back and forth across your cheek, you realize you don’t have to search for long. The fading summer sun has his hazel eyes melting into a warm honey, the deep green from earlier now just flecks peeking through. They seem to burn straight into yours, right down to your heart - like ivy or moss growing over bricks, threatening to crack the wall you’ve placed around it. 

Steve leans in closer, his breath fanning warm across your already heated skin, nose brushing yours as he practically pleads with you. His voice soft and longing, washing over you like the rain the summer aches for, “Let me show you how you deserve to be loved,” his mouth hovers over yours, a gentle graze of his top lip to your bottom, testing the line he’s desperate to cross, “Please.”

Your body gives in before your brain can truly catch up and your mouth parts under his, letting him swallow any doubts or insecurities you might have. He hums into you, large hands tilting your head gently to allow him more access to deepen his kiss. Lips moving tenderly over yours like you aren’t the only one who’s been imagining this moment for a week, both of you wanting to savor the taste and feeling of each other. 

That first kiss with Steve Harrington is exactly like the fading sun on the horizon. It’s warm, soft, and tinged in sweet sherbert colors that make you hum when it hits your lips, fingertips tingling, and tinting his cheeks. It’s breathtaking and almost slow enough you don’t even notice the way the colors and your lips deepen to darker shades of want and hunger for each other. It’s fleeting at the same time, inching closer and closer to disappearing all together, because eventually you have to part from one another. The first kiss is over too soon and then the moment is no longer golden, but tinged in the darker blues and purples of twilight. Dangerous and lust filled as your clothes start to get pulled from each other’s bodies in a desperate energy that the darkness welcomes and makes it easier to slip into in a way the spotlight of the day cannot allow. Giving in to letting each other believe in the possibility of what this could mean and disappear into one another as the day does into the night.

But Steve doesn’t allow the night to cover you in darkness, his hands and kisses lighting you up wherever they caress and brush, shining a spotlight on every inch of you as he whispers praises and compliments into your skin. He’s soft, sweet, slow - like he has every eager intent to explore your body until the sun comes up again. The sounds of the birds and buzzing day now turned to frogs and crickets filtering in through the still open windows, fireflies dancing in celebration of the faded light. The night doesn’t deny the sweltering hazy day, but seems to only turn it up - each kiss a dip in water that was heated by the summer sun all day, now cold and refreshing.  Moonlit and magical, your bodies moving together don’t have any concept of time or age like your brains did earlier. You simply exist together like that’s how it’s always been and how it’s supposed to be. 

Fingertips trailing over freckles, dips, curves, and muscles in each other like you’re charting constellations on one another’s skin. Bodies and lips crashing into each other like meteors, pieces of your heart fragmenting and combining with his. Being together is planets aligning and a whole galaxy behind your eyes as you cry out his name into his lips that are breathing out yours. And even when it’s all over, there is still plenty of night left to continue exploring. Lips brushing over knuckles, fingers carding through hair, and legs tangling together as you talk about everything and nothing. Until you’re waking to the rising sun, wrapped in each other’s arms. Ready to do it all again, every day you’ll let each other believe in it. 

tag list for steve: @boomhauer @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower

[thecursivej]

SOTU - 2024

Well, I'm forcing myself to watch the State of the Union while I grade speeches, so I figured I'd record my reactions and thoughts here.

Do I hope for the words "Immediate Ceasefire"? Absolutely. Will we get them? Looking at the track record, probably not. But I remain optimistic because otherwise I'd be six feet under by now; ANYWHO here is a list of my reactions/thoughts/general feelings of the evening's watch.

I do want to give a point of clarity: I technically am identified as a democrat; truly, I'm a socialist, but seeing as how the U.S. is stuck in this godforsaken two-party-system, that is where I am. Though both sides have me feeling very french-revolutionary-esque.

Of course the first thing I see if MTG rifling through her purse on screen. I quite literally despise her.

AP is discussing Ukraine's need for weapons and funding; I would truly rather us align with Ukraine than Isr@el. I will stand unapologetically firm for Palestine and Ukraine.

Who is actually in the cabinet? I know Blinken, Garland, and Buttiegeg. Damn, wish he was running again. Would rather have him than Biden.

How insane is it that the Sec. of Defense didn't even let the White House know that he had to go in for surgery because of cancer. Like, that's just bonkers to me.

Republicans truly look like fucking robots right now. No warm greetings, no hellos, simple nods.

Republicans out here wasting fucking time with that impeachment of Mayorkas. Like how about we house the homeless populations with the money they wasted on this circus.

Oh funky fresh look at the Ultra-Mormon(TM) Mitt Romney.

MTG with that stupid fucking MAGA hat on is just... disgusting. Like this bitch is crazy.

Okay Joe, speed it up down the fucking aisle please. I got papers to grade.

Lowkey Joe looks like he might have had a five-hour energy drink with that big-ole look in his eyes.

I do appreciate that Joe still smiles and is kind to MTG. She truly doesn't deserve it.

Okay this is getting just a wee bit too monarchy for me.

MTG holds up a button saying "Laken Riley..." (couldn't read the rest). Riley was a 14 year old girl murdered by a man who was an illegal immigrant of venezuela, and instead of handling this situation with grace, empathy, and love; MTG and others seem to be capitalizing on her death to push their anti-immigration rhetoric.

Okay, cool selfie skills Joe, but let's get on with it.

ALSO HOW IS JOE BIDEN GONNA BE SO IN DEPTH WITH TECH AND "Savvy" WITH IT WHEN MOTHERFUCKER WANTS TO BAN TIKTOK!? Hello?!

BERNIE AND RAPHAEL! I feel like I haven't seen these guys in 10 million years.

Oh thank god we're starting.

Aww the little hand shake thingy he does with Kamala makes my heart happy.

Did Joe just yell "tony"?!

Wow, even got some republicans clapping for him (probs not a good thing but here we are)

Okay, good bit of humor at the top; and a throwback to the 40s. Funky fresh.

Yeah we ain't living in ordinary times for damn sure.

Interesting point of democracy being attacked here in the U.S. AND Internationally. (Mentions Ukraine and Putin; no word on Gaza yet).

Someone busted out a Ukrainian flag and shook it; rock on.

OH SHIT HE GOT MIKE JOHNSON TO CLAP!

Appreciate the insistance that the U.S. won't send troops to UKR.

Good use of Reagan to connect with the Repubs; and compare to the predecessor (aka Tr*mp).

Mike Johnson nodding instead of clapping about the predecessor comment, trying to save his ass in Orange Man's eyes.

Welcome to NATO, Sweden!

If there is one thing that should connect Democrats and Republicans; it's hatred for Putin. Yet there's a mix of Repubs standing in agreement and sitting to back up the predecessor's comment on Putin doing "whatever the hell he wants"

Talking about Jan 6. What breaks my heart? My parents still believe it wasn't an insurrection. Yikes on Bikes for me.

The line "You can't love your country only when you win" hits hard and even got Mike Johnson to applaud in agreement.

Foreign AND Domestic. Need a hefty focus on that with the right-wing republican group (@ MTG, Gaetz, Cruz, etc.)

Discussing IVF in Alabama; good connection to the overturning of Rowe v. Wade. It sucks that Republicans HAVE THE POWER to protect IVF nationally but shot the damn bill down not even a week ago.

ABORTION IS A HUMAN RIGHT. BODILY AUTONOMY IS A HUMAN. FUCKING. RIGHT. (@ The Missouri Senators who support taking away bodily autonomy).

WOMEN AREN'T WITHOUT ELECTORAL AND POLITICAL POWER; WE ABOUT TO TURN UP IN FORCE MOTHERFUCKERS!!! Bring back the strats from the 1900s; time to use our power and go bonkers.

Someone get Joe a glass of water please. Motherfucker looks a bit parched and keeps coughing. I get that when my throat goes dryyy

Can Biden not restore RvW? Can he not by an executive order make RvW the law of the land already?

Revisiting COVID's start from 2020 (Next week is the four year anniversary since the global pandemic).

PFFT idk who just yelled "LIES" but that was comical AF.

Well, the pandemic still controls a big part of our lives... so...don't agree with that shit.

Man, everyone sitting-and-standing must be getting a HELLA calf work out.

Sure, unemployment is down and new jobs are built; but corporate greed is quite literally killing us. Can Congress or Biden do something, damn it?!

Are we beginning to feel it, though? Are we feeling good economics? I doubt we are.

Good job pointing out how both parties have failed to buy american products, but how this admin has established that.

There's a good two rows of Republicans who stand in applause; but the rest just... sit there. Like robots. It's freaky as fuck.

Joe is actually doing pretty great with the flow of this speech. Only a couple of stumbles, but overall pretty gucci. (He'd get a 9/10 on delivery in my public speaking class).

God these fuckers are really gonna make me run for office at this damn point.

Removing poisonous lead pipes... but there's still a water crisis in Flint, Biden. Like, what the fuckeroni do you mean?

Yes, let's invest in family farms; lets stop selling our farmland (especially in Missouri) to foreign countries (@ China buying up TONS of Missouri Farmland).

I love that the UAW president is here, because he straight up is my kind of people. Dude wears eat-the-rich shirts and calls out the unethical-ness of billionaires.

UAW President pointing to Biden saying "It's you!"; nah dawg, it's you Sean.

MIDDLE CLASS DID BUILD THE COUNTRY AND UNIONS BUILT THE MIDDLE CLASS MOTHER FUCKERS!!!

Yes we get back up but right now...we might be getting more french revolutionary-esque if y'all don't stop PLAYING WITH OUR LIVES.

Oh jesus not the 4-more-years chants.

Oh now we talking about the future

YES PLEASE END TRICKLE DOWN ECONOMIES.

Says he's not anti-corp; but points out how trickle down economics has only helped the wealthy.

Yeah, how the fuck does it hurt the wealthy to pay just a weeee bit more in taxes? Like dawg, what are you gonna do with another million? What's the point?

Ooooh is Biden about to rope the repubs into some bipartisan shit? Please do.

What is Republicans huge issue with capping insulin? Truly? Who does it harm? Billionaires still get billions.

[galaxycunt]

Singing The Same Dream

shuggy thoughts Thursday

1k lil fic hehe

He had a good buzz going, a hand floating to scare the barmaid, endless liquor flowing, good times. Buggy would be lying if he wasn’t a man who recollects when he’s drunk, and a bad feeling about this night made his fingers twitch with anxiety.

Behind him the door swung open, loud chattering of a group of men bounced off the walls. This was good, he needed a distraction. He glanced over his shoulder to watch the men pile in, pirates. Even better.

”Yo, more rum over here! Before these fucks drink it all!”

“Buggy?”

He turned, limbs nearly falling to pieces to the floor. It was him, he didn’t fucking need this right now. Swiveling in his stool, he whipped back to face the bar.

”It really is you!” a hand slapped him hard on the back, “you’re looking good.”

”Yeah, well, you look like shit.”

He only laughed, “getting older I guess.”

Red-haired Shanks. He looked the same, same stupid hat, same stupid smile on his face.

”What you’re drinking, old friend?”

Time to make lemonade, “top shelf only.”

Shanks shrugged, ordering a bottle to share. Buggy swiped it as soon as it hit the counter, chugging the bottle to the last drop.

”Thanks for the free drink, shithead,” he said getting up to leave.

“Whoa, wait a minute. I just got here,” Shanks said tugging on his sleeve, “please, stay a little bit.”

Buggy shrugged him off, “it’s been how long now? 15 years?”

He smiled, “something like that.”

He knew this was a bad idea, but those old memories flooded back to him. His smile, his eyes, his lips. Buggy’s heart won out over his brain.

”Alright. Talk.”

Shanks smiled a little nervously, like he used to, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.”

”Any good hauls lately?” Buggy said sarcastically.

“A little of this, a little of that,” he paused, “wait do you really wanna know?”

Buggy only glared.

So he told him, the treasure he found, a little village he liked to visit when he could, animated about everything the drunker he became. Shanks was living the dream life they wanted for themselves, he supposed he did too. Captains going their own way.

“God, Bug I remember what Roger used to say about you-“

”-don’t tell me that shit, man.”

”Why not?”

He frowned, “I don’t wanna hear this shit, bragging like a jackass.”

”Oh.”

Shank looked down at his drink, thinking of the right things to say. Buggy was reminded of the night they first kissed, how stupid it all was. Two lonely boys on a pirate ship with no one else their age in sight.

”It’s too loud in here, see ya shitface.”

Shanks followed Buggy out, “yeah you’re right. Fresh air would be nice!”

”I wanna be alone, moron!”

”But why?”

Buggy looked at the people passing by, how embarrassing. He was a fucking pirate captain, for god’s sake. So he walked toward the shore, not sure of where to go else with Shanks following him.

He was in love with the guy, so sure that Shanks was just bored and he was there. That was his life, being at the right place at the right time. He wasn’t made for love, getting what scraps anyone else wanted to give him.

The moon was beautiful and bright, dark waves crashed against white sand. Buggy kicked a rock at his feet, holding his breath for Shanks to say something.

”Why are you here, man?”

They locked eyes, “I didn’t mean to. But I’m glad we bumped into each other.”

”Is that right?”

”Yes,” he said quickly, “a welcome surprise.”

If he didn’t know better, Shanks looked flushed.

”Remember back in the day, that night on the island? I think the moon was just as big.”

Buggy closed his eyes, “yeah, I remember.”

”You…I think that night played in my mind for three weeks straight.”

”We were pretty young and dumb, huh?”

Shanks laughed, “yeah. We were, weren’t we? It was..nice, wasn’t it?”

It was before Roger died, Buggy braver than he ever been before, kissed his best friend. And he kissed him back. As large of a ship it was, it was hard to find the time to hide more kisses. Like two magnets, they always found each other’s lips.

Buggy used to worry that anytime they docked, Shanks would go off to find someone better looking to kiss. He never did, their first time together was in a cave they found on an island. The moon shone so bright, he looked like an angel.

Now they were drunk saps, the last remaining shred of dignity was screaming at Buggy to leave. Instead he sat in the cool sand, fingers tracing patterns.

”You’re a captain now, right?”

”Yeah.”

Shanks sat next to him, “I’m glad to hear it. I really am.”

Slowly his hand inched closer to him, fingers linking together. Buggy gulped, he couldn’t let this happen again. But why not? Why not?

”I’m sure there’s far more interesting men out there for you.”

Shanks shook his head, leaning closer. His breath smelled like liquor, this was a mistake. Buggy’s mind wrestled with a decision, a drunk kiss didn’t mean a thing. Even if it was 15 years overdue.

Shanks removed his hat, lips hovering over Buggy’s, “you were my best friend, you know?”

”I think I’m still in love with you,” he whispered.

Shanks exhaled deeply, a wide grin on his face. Buggy figured he was always going to be in love with him.

The kiss tasted bittersweet, Buggy’s other hand clutching the sand, letting it slip between his fingers as Shanks’s tongue slipped between his lips. It was bliss, just like every other time. He felt his heart in this throat, the wind knocked out of him.

”I gotta go.”

Buggy scrambled up as quickly as he could, tears burning hot. Shanks called out after him, words fading away.

He felt so stupid, he always so stupid. Rushing to his ship, he trembled as he locked the cabin door behind him.

They were drunk, of course they were. It wasn’t real, it never was. Shanks only got what he wanted, regardless of what Buggy felt about it.

Never again.

[lovaboy]

muriel and crowley snippets bc i've been thinking abt them all dayyy and i need to put these out somewhere even if it's not in their full form 😵‍💫

“I only ask ‘cause, you know, we don’t technically need to sleep, but I’ve been reading a lot and typically humans sleep in actual beds, and certainly not cars because cars are uncomfortable.” They speak with a manner of certainty that comes with experience, except they have none; they’ve never been inside The Bentley, Crowley won’t allow it - Heaven definitely wouldn’t allow it. But people in books don’t sleep in cars, they sleep in beds. Logically, real life should follow suit.

Ah. Crowley’s raising an eyebrow expectantly at them from behind his glasses. Perhaps they should wrap it up.

“I was just curious is all.” Muriel rocks up onto the tops of their feet, then back onto the heels. “If you’re going to sleep anywhere, why sleep in a vehicle?”

Crowley dumps the books into Muriel’s arms unceremoniously - as they struggle to keep from dropping any, surprised by the sudden weight, Crowley grits out, “Haven’t got anywhere else to go, have I?”

Muriel, hat askew and arms full, spares the briefest of glances at the way Crowley’s shoulders are up around pointed ears as he stalks off towards another disorganized bookshelf, and wonders what they’re meant to say to that, if anything at all.

· ───── ·𓏢·♆· ───── ·

“I mean, look at you. Standing all stiff like you’re tied to a stake. Would it kill you to slouch?”

As if illustrating his point, he lets his own posture relax a little more, shoulders slumping, back bending, head lolling slightly to one side and shifting his weight onto one foot. 

Muriel watches him closely. Their brows furrow, a timid look passing across their face.

“That isn’t what we were taught-”

“Oh, fuck what you were taught,” Crowley interrupts, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as Muriel gasps at his swear - with their wide eyes and the hands hovering over their mouth, they almost remind him of Aziraphale the first time Crowley swore in front of him.

He squashes that thought like a bug under his snakeskin heel.

· ───── ·𓏢·♆· ───── ·

The pot housing the snake plant is one of the typical clay pots shopkeeps love to push upon first-time plant parents. It’s littered with meticulously painted-on drawings of various types of flowers (daisies, yellow roses, pink tulips, mums, sunflowers, yellow daffodils - lots of yellow here, what is it with angels and the color yellow?)

Still, he has to admit it’s quite impressive to fit so many flowers on such a small pot while retaining the fact that they are, indeed, flowers, and not just messy splotches of color. Seems Muriel has the same artistic talent as Aziraphale.

The plant itself is doing well - its leaves are a lovely green, their edges the color of vanilla cream, and not a spot can be seen among them as they stretch towards the sky. The soil is slightly damp as if it had just recently been watered.

Tucked securely into the soil so as to not blow away on the wind is a folded square of paper with Mr. Crowley written on it in curly blue-inked font.