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the-doomed-witch · 11 months

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COME HOME TO MY HEART

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You rekindle with a childhood lover, now on the other end of the world. The love is still passionate, vibrant, but just far away. So you go back to meet her. // based on Supercut by Lorde

Word Count: ~4.0k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS + MEN DNI. phone sex, masturbation, long distance lovers meet up, fluff, a littttttleeee angsty, oral (both), fingering (both), strap-on (n receiving), squirting, light bondage, mostly reminiscent

Author’s Note: i’ve written a similar drabble with wanda before, but i wanted to write a complete one shot with infinity war nat bc why not 🤭

MASTERLIST // NAVIGATION // REQUESTS CLOSED

— ✦ —

The room is dimly lit, almost completely dark, when you get a call from Nat at 3:00 a.m. There’s obviously nothing else she could possibly be doing right now, so a little sigh leaves your mouth as you prepare yourself to pick it up.

“Hey baby, w-” you attempt to ask her, but she moans loudly. Yes, she’s doing exactly what you thought before picking up her call.

“Y/N, I need you… your touch, your tongue… Ah-!” you listen to her closely, with a hint of redness flushing over your cheeks. You could vividly imagine the mess she would be making around her.

The sounds of her fingering herself stopped, and she asks you, “Wouldn’t you join me detka? Come along with me? Let me hear you say my name? Won’t you, Y/N?”

Your mouth was already dripping at the thought of her wanting your tongue, but a pool of slick formed on your cotton panties at the thought of touching yourself to her sounds. You’d never done anything of the sort before, but ever since Nat reconnected with you, it was hard to resist or deny the offer she just gave.

You put your phone aside, on the bedside table, as you take off your clothes. You make her listen to your own sounds of pleasure, all the way in a different country. You can hear her overflowing pussy, and her fingers. Dip, spread, and rub, and again. Every moment or so, she pleads your name, as if you were right there, next to her.

Realising that mere touching is of no use for you to get yourself off, you introduce a toy to the moment, conveniently handy inside your bedside table drawer. “God, Nat, I wish you’d be taking this right now, I’d be pounding into you. You would take me so well…” you narrate to her, fantasising her touch, as you align the toy inside of you.

On the other end of the line, Nat is already reaching her climax. Her breathing is staggered, and her hole sounds as heavenly as her chants of your name. She screams loudly as she comes, hopefully making a mess around herself.

Just listening to her has been giving you chills all over your body. And no sooner than you sense her releasing herself, you do it too.

After moments of mutual silence filled with panting and whining, the question slips out of your mouth,“Why are you so far away, Nat?”

“Why did you move away, Y/N?”

You have no answer that is satisfactory. “I almost forgot that it’s morning for you, you really wanted me to come over and take care, didn’t you?”

“Isn’t it obvious Y/N? I ache for you, crave your touch every single night, hoping you’d come back here someday. We could go on dates, kiss each other, fool around all day in my apartment…”

“Oh my sweet baby… I promise I’ll be there soon. And when we go out on dates, I’ll hold your hand, always. Okay?”

“You’re going to make me come again with all your sweet talk. But this time, I mean it. I want to be able to do everything with you, just how lovers do. I miss you. I miss you so much.” You don’t need her to explain, you become cognizant of how her fingers slipped inside of her again. “Y/N, I’m so wet for you, I wish you were here to see it, do something about it.” she says shortly before cutting the call.

You think it’s by mistake, so you ring her again. She doesn’t pick it up.

With a heart full of longing, you recall your brightest memories with her. Right from coming out to her, to stealing moments alone after the day at high school ended just to give each other a kiss. The time both of you went to prom together, despite all your classmates thinking that both of you did so because “you couldn’t get a nice guy”. But nobody except you two knew the joy of being together.

Natasha Romanoff was your whole life before you left the goddamn place. She was so sure of a future together, before a silent and apologetic breakup came along, followed by you moving out to an entirely different continent. You still remember the tears pooling up around her emerald like irises, and then you attempting to calm her down. Breathe in… 2,3,4. Breath out… 6,7,8 you taught her before leaving as a naive teenager.

A flashback of every subsided memory in your mind filled up your thoughts for the rest of the night. Your heartbeat increases as you think of what you have done for the two of you, and how it was only the most reasonable option given your circumstances. As a young love, you were wild and fluorescent.

But it’s been a few months since you found Natasha again, thanks to an exchange student in your university who turned out to be a mutual friend. And you wouldn’t commit those same mistakes this time.

— ✦ —

After three days of a monotonous routine, you call Nat several times abruptly. Of course, she is busy on the other side of the world, but there’s nothing more prime than your excitement today.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up!” you repeat to yourself till she actually picks up your call. “Y/N! You’ve been calling me aggressively, care to consider I’m at uni? What’s going on, is everything okay?” She sounds impatient. Not the impatient that you are feeling, but a rather frustrated one.

“Honey! Natty! I’ve got the best news for you!”

“Get to the point quickly! I cannot hold this call for long, my professor will be breaking my neck in half.”

“Mark the date Natty!! I’m just about to scream, oh my God! I love you! So much. Tell me that you love me too when I meet you at the airport, don’t forget to pick me up. I’m sending you the details of my flight, we’ll be walking around the town hand in hand in a few days!”

“Oh my God, Y/N. This is the best news I’ve heard, like ever! Fuck, I’m so going to cry, gosh. I lo-”

“No Natty! Say it when you meet me, I want to hear it in person. I can go for a week. Oh my God, there’s so much I need to do, bye! Take care.”

“Take care moya lyubov! See you soon.”

There’s a week left for you to catch your flight, but there's too much stuff to do. After all, it’s your home country and you will inevitably have to meet your family after years of no contact. That’s a fear, yes, but having Natasha by your side seemed soothing in a way.

Over the seven days, you cause havoc in your own apartment. Random calls with Nat throughout the day, going to university for the selected number of hours, bunking a few lectures to go and relieve yourself with what only Natasha could give you the best.

Definitely, there’s financing trouble to do, calculating the amount you’ll be spending, but you balance it all through with the help of your colleagues pursuing finance related majors.

From the depths of your wardrobe, you select the best pieces of clothing you have. Some bright, some in Natasha’s favourite colours, and some just a little provocative. There are an endless bunch of other things you want to carry but obviously, there’s a restriction on the weight of your luggage.

— ✦ —

“Babe, where are you? I can’t find you here. I’m at Gate 3.” you speak to Nat on call.

“Then what the fuck am I doing at Gate 2?! Wait I’ll have to run over to the other gate, I’m so fucking dumb!”

She turns to the other side, preparing herself to run off to the supposed gateway to find you. Suddenly, two arms grab her waist from behind, kissing her neck as you hold her in a tight embrace. “I was messing with you, love. I’m right here.” You whisper while planting kisses on her whole face as she giggles through your affection.

In the fullness of time, she pulls your face closer into a long awaited, and pined for kiss. Her tongue travels places inside your mouth as soon as you let her in, her hands pulling you impossibly close to her body.

Your hands stay gripping her back, entangled in her now-blonde hair. Your lips don’t depart till you’re both completely out of breath. “Before I forget to say it; I love you too Y/N! With my whole heart.”

“Seven years. Seven fucking years and you just taste the same kind of sweet, Natalia.”

She gives you a gentle smooch before replying, “And for seven fucking years I’ve waited for this. You’re here, you’re so here malyshka, my dearest!” Her muscular arms help you carry your heavy luggage, full of stuff you want to share with her.

She drives you around the city, reminiscing about places you both used to go to. “Wait, here comes the school! Can we please go inside? I want to take a look, it feels like I’ve missed years of stories I need to catch up with.”

You meet a few teachers from your childhood, many others have either left or retired. You meet Mrs. Agatha Harkness, who taught you history. She was the first adult you ever came out to, because you had met her wife Mrs. Wanda Maximoff several times in school.

She looked just the same, as if she were immortal. Agatha greeted the two of you with a cheerful glin, “What a lovely surprise have I got here! The two ladies; the secret high school sweethearts!” Both of you tensely blush at the addressal, and she teases the two of you again, “Your cheeks still redden just the way they did about a decade ago, oh my God!” She adoringly laughs at your innocent faces.

You find your secret spots in hidden staircases, near humongous trees, and the girls’ restroom. In the light of echoing your earliest happy moments, you kiss Natasha every time you find one of those places. The school is empty, since summer holidays are around.

Among other places in the city, you visit parks, cafeterias, and other sites you’ve been to with Nat ever since your childhood. From time to time, you recreate the past photos of the both of you.

You sit in the car after yet another round of wandering, tired of all the travel you’ve done today. You let out a sigh in the sharp afternoon sunlight. You haven’t rested in the last sixteen hours, but it’s been all worth it.

“I can’t imagine I get to say this today - Take me home, baby.” you tease her, tugging on her leather vest. The jacket you don’t understand for what godforsaken reason she still has on, in this summer heat.

Her apartment is a little cosy space, with hints of boldness here and there. Though there are spots recognizable from video calls and pictures, you’re surprised at the bigger picture that you hadn’t yet seen.

You never imagined her to be someone to hang artwork, but she has a few sapphic based paintings along the entrance corridor. You comment on the decoration, “Wow, I love how these are hanging by the entrance door. Someone could walk inside and just go like, ‘Natasha Romanoff. Badass, smartass, and girlkisser.’”

She chuckles at your little quip. Her bedroom is simple, not filled with many things, just some regular personal effects including photo frames. There were mainly pictures of her and Yelena, but some of them also had you photobombing the sisters.

“How’s Yelena?” you ask her, taking a seat by the bed.

“She’s alright. Like you, she doesn’t live here anymore. She goes around the world, teaching women about vigilance. I’m proud of what she does, but I wish she were here.”

“I was hoping I could meet her, we haven’t spoken in almost a decade. What about Bucky? Or Carol? Tony? All of our friends, you know.”

“Most of them left the city, and some, like you, left the country wholly. Bucky’s still here, he’s engaged to Sam. Bruce and Tony went to a science oriented institute. Carol comes around from time to time, to meet us. And well, Steve joined the military like he always wanted to. Everyone’s still in casual contact, except we miss you so much.”

“You know, we should be having a reunion someday. Not this time though, I think I’ll just meet a few people. Mostly, I want to be with you.” Your palm rests on the top of hers, fingers interlocking.

You let out another audible sigh, pushing yourself back into the bed. “You sound really dead beat, you don’t breathe out like this often. Do you want me to get you something Y/N?”

“I think I’m just facing jet lag, I’ll be fine in a day or so. But I could really use relaxation right now.”

She straddles your waist, moving strands of hair out of your face and tucking them behind your ears. “Then let me help you, detka.” Your lips part softly, signalling her to lean in. Instead, she places her thumb on your chin, making you suck on it. You close your eyes as they flutter, enjoying the feeling of her touch.

After a few minutes, she withdraws and gets her weight off your body. “May I?” she seeks your permission before proceeding. You nod at her in response.

She doesn’t pull down your pants immediately. Instead, her hands touch you over your pair of trousers. You cannot feel it as a direct contact with your skin, but it does tingle. A light tickle-like movement of her fingers traces your body, sending literal quivers and twitches from head to toe. Impatiently, you pull up your t-shirt and throw it away into a corner of the room. She unzips her shiny leather vest, only to reveal that there was nothing underneath this whole time. However, she doesn’t take it off her shoulders.

One flick of her hand, and your bra is unhooked. She covers your tits in her saliva with her sucking, biting and licking. You turn into a whimpering mess underneath her.

If she hadn’t cupped your core by pushing her hand down your trousers, you were sure you could’ve leaked your wetness onto the bed. “Fuck Y/N, who thought you’re going to be a dripping pool for me? You want me to fuck you so that you forget how to walk? Leave your legs sore? That’s what you want?” With every question, she spreads your juices up and down. She presses down on your clitoris harshly, “Answer me Y/N.”

“Mm” You give a string of incoherent mumbles as a reply. She unbuttons your pants and helps you take them off, to meet a sight of black lace barely covering any of your pussy. Natasha groans at the view, and decides not to pull them down.

She bends down to get to work as she lets two of her fingers hold the cloth aside. Her tongue rolls up and down and side, experiencing the full taste of your cunt. Every now and then, she pauses, leaves kisses, and moans into your slit, giving you shivers.

The room is filled with your screams, and sounds of your entire body heaving. Nat could sense the walls of your pussy clenching on her tongue. With a soft graceful tug on the bud, you squirt on her face, leaving you utterly embarrassed. “Oh my God baby, I didn’t know you were a squirter!” she says, excitedly. You get flustered as you misunderstand her words and push her away from your body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Shh. Give me one more, I love it when you do it.” She interrupts your whole line of thought with a kiss, and simultaneously pushing her fingers inside of you, ultimately curling them. Your legs writhe against her touch, as her hand moves faster.

You separate yourself from the kiss to scream when she touches a deep spot inside of you. Your response is enough for her to do it again, and again, and once again, till you release your juices. As soon as you do, she goes down to swallow it all, licking you and your pussy clean.

Throughout the climax, you leave scars on her body in the heat of the moment. Scars on her shoulders with your tight grip, on her back, and bites on her lips till they bled. “Look at me malyshka, look me in the eye when you come. You’re so tight for me, so good.” she says as she rides you through another orgasm, staring into your eyes with nothing but adoration.

You let your panties slip down, exposing Nat to an unfiltered heat. She slaps it hard before spreading it wide with her digits, rolling her tongue inside once again.

When she’s done abusing your poor clit, she massages your sweaty body, helping you relieve all the stress you’ve been facing with the jet lag.

“Nat,” you say, rubbing fingertips on her head in circular motions, “I love you. Let me return the favour, please?”

“Tomorrow. You’re so tired dorogaya, you should sleep. We can continue anytime.”

“Now.” you demand, rolling one of her nipples between your fingers. Her grip on the bed sheet intensifies as you stimulate her gently. “Y/N…”

You shred her of all her garments till she’s left only with her panties. You rub them over her drenched core, and pull them out too. You use them to tie her hands above her head, so that you could have the space all to yourself.

Her holes expand and shrink, waiting to be fucked by you. So you dip your fingers inside her, and pull them out fully, sucking on them for a taste, a nice and loud slurp. Your eyes meet hers, fingers still in your mouth, her hooded glaucous sight connected to yours.

Carrying a string of saliva on their way back in, you penetrate her once again. Pump in, pump out. Your thrusting gets more quick with every moan she lets out with your name on the tip of her tongue.

Something sparked your mind, so you get off the bed and poke around in your luggage. Back in the bed, hands tied, Nat screams at the lack of friction, squeezing her legs together for some sort of relief.

“I’ve wanted to use this on you since so long, baby.” you say as you return with a strap adorned around your waist. “Wouldn’t you like to take my big dick? Make a mess on it?”

You don’t give her time to answer and linger on her top before deciding to fuck her throat. You shove the toy inside, practically gagging the woman beneath you. When you find it satisfactory, you align the tip against her hole, slowly inserting it till you bottom out.

“Ah… feels so full Y/N-”

You start pounding into her vehemently, evoking the loudest of noises from Natasha. “You’re so fucking pretty Nat, taking it so well.”

The words of affirmation made her come hard, almost tripping her over. Beads of sweat roll down her tummy, the dimmed lights giving them a different glow. Just the sight of her was seductive at its finest.

Your movements keep going mercilessly, till you turn her around and plunge into her even more rapidly from the back. And just before she is about to come undone, you pull out and put your mouth to work.

She keeps on grinding against your face even after coming, just to feel you in the places she always needed you the most. The panties tied around her wrists tear apart with a single attempt from her, just because she wants to push your face further inside. You moan and occasionally breathe deep inside her pussy, driving her wild. A little pressure on the clit and she’s coming again. You lick her thoroughly clean, not letting a single droplet get to waste.

“Y/N… too much… please.” she begs you to stop and so you do, with one last taste of her delicate sweetness. You lay down next to her, on bed sheets covered in the liquids of pleasure and lust. While staring at the ceiling, she utters, “That was the best experience I’ve ever had and you’re the worst tease.”

“Can you really blame me though?” You wheeze at her comment, and turn towards her, the weight of your right leg on the top of her. Fingers find their way through her blonde hair again, scratching her scalp. “When did you choose to get rid of my favourite redhead?”

“You know it’s your favourite. What would have been the point if I never saw you again? I changed it a couple of years ago.”

“Not that I’m complaining, you look really hot as a silver blonde. If I didn’t know you and you walked up to me I think I would literally do whatever you asked me to.”

“Except you know me, and still do it.”

After what almost felt like an hour of comfortable silence, she cuddles you like a big spoon, which is highly unlikely of her. But you are not whining, you love the warmth of her body, and her soul.

— ✦ —

Fast forward to the last day of your stay. The two weeks you’ve spent with Nat have already come to an end, and you find it difficult to believe. You struggle to pack your belongings, in a reluctance to leave the place. But you need to prioritise some things.

On a long session of scrutiny with Nat, you decided not to visit your parents. You’ve had your fair share of trauma already.

She smiles at you throughout the day, but her eyes clearly convey, “Please stay.” You’re convinced that the departure is going to be harder than you imagined it, but you had no choice.

Before leaving her at the airport, you don’t stop kissing her. She’s almost out of her breath, but doesn’t spare a single moment. Evidently, she’s trying to hold on to every bit of you that she could keep with her.

There are tears in her eyes, on her cheeks, as she cups your face even more close. “Don’t leave, malyshka. I can't beat this pain again. Please stay.”

“You know I can’t, honey. You know that if I could, I would.” you begin crying yourself, too scared to forget what it felt like to hold her in your arms.

“Shh. Breathe in… 2,3,4. Breathe out… 6,7,8.” you teach her again, exactly how you did years ago, when you broke up with her.

She didn’t have it in herself to let go of her grip on you, but a warning announcement for the passengers had to do it. She tastes your lips one last time before letting you go, unsure of when she will ever get to do it again.

But she doesn’t ask you about you coming back. Natasha is, in all respects, confident that you would. The ring on her finger does it for her, as she waves goodbye.

On your flight back home, you’re sure you’ll be permanently moving back someday, the ring on yours does it for you.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #black widow

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stevie-petey · 6 months

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episode seven: the bathtub

Steve sighs, “I just… I wanna help.” Maybe it’s his black eye or the pathetic way Steve says he wants to help, but the man comes down the ladder and hands him the dirty rag he had been using. “All yours.” Steve takes his jacket off and accepts the rag and climbs up, ready to get to work. He really does want to help, he has been trying to help. And Steve just really hopes that you can see his efforts someday, maybe even soon. He’s had a really rough week.

summary: your brother basically places himself on the fbi's most wanted list and el flips a van with her mind, now you have to create a giant salt tub because of course you do, nancy tries Talking About It but hasn't she read the title ? you don't have the time. sidenote: you've somehow become a steve defender during these trying times. typical. meanwhile: steve's inner thoughts are pathetic.

rating: general, some swearing

warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/b, implications of death and violence

words: 10.2k

before you swing in: hello ! long time no see, i apologize :/ working while im home for winter break and my hours suck, but we move on ! heres chapter 7, she was a pain to write because it was more complex than i thought, but i love her dearly </3 enjoy !

When you finally get to the police station, exhausted and sweaty from running, an angry blond woman is following after Hopper as he guides Joyce, Nancy, and Jonathan towards his cruiser.

“Aren’t you going to do anything about that toothless kid and his weird friends?” She screams at the officer, but he just ignores her and instructs the others to get into the car.

A toothless kid and his weird friends? Gee, you wonder who the woman could be talking about.

You get to the car right as Hopper has started the engine. You knock on the window and he sighs when he sees it’s you. He rolls down the window. “Why is it always you?”

“I think it’s time you learn that wherever he goes,” you point towards Jonathan, who smiles at the chief, and then you point at yourself. “I go.”

“She’s right.” Joyce mumbles from the passenger seat.

Hopper places his head in his hands and sighs once more. “We don’t have time for this. Step away from the car. Now.”

You blink. “I’m sorry?”

“Leave, go home.”

Jonathan speaks up from the backseat. “Hopper, she has to come with us–”

“Where the hell are you guys going? Weren’t you arrested?” You ask, now even more confused.

“Not arrested, just detained.” Joyce corrects.

The officer groans. “Does any of this matter? We need to leave, now.”

“We can leave as soon as you let me in the car.”

Hopper stares at you. “You have no idea what you’re walking into, kid.”

“Try me.”

“Step away from the car–”

“The ‘toothless kid’ that the crazy woman shouted about is my brother!” You shout, entirely over this entire conversation. Like hell this bitter old man is going to stop you from following wherever Jonathan goes. Especially if Dustin is involved somehow.

“I told you, no-”

“I can and will hop on the hood of this damn car if you don’t let me in within the next five seconds.”

Hopper laughs. “Sure ya will.”

“One,” you begin counting.

“That’s not going to work.”

“Two,”

“Uh, Hopper?” Jonathan speaks up. “She’ll do it, you know.”

“Three,”

Hopper doesn’t listen, and now Joyce is getting annoyed. “Hop, just let her in.”

“I kind of want to see her jump on the hood.” Nancy says, causing Jonathan to laugh.

“Four,” you walk to the front of the car and pop your foot up, getting ready to start climbing. If Hopper thinks you aren’t being serious, then that’s his own damn fault. He starts shouting at you to knock it off while Joyce pleads with him to listen to you. Jonathan tries to get out of the car, but Hopper has locked them in. Everyone is arguing and yelling and you’re just ready to say fuck it and straddle a cop car.

Right before you can jump entirely onto the hood of the car, Nancy lurches from the back seat and screams through Hopper’s window, “Y/N, just tell the man about El!”

Everyone freezes; no one says a single word. Slowly, you lower your leg and walk over to the driver’s window once more while Hopper just stares at you. You can’t exactly read the look on his face, but if you had to guess, it’d be something like of course this kid knows about El.

“Who the hell is El?” He demands as soon as you’re back in front of the window.

“Buzzed hair, nose bleeds when she uses her powers, and hangs out with my brother and his friends. Ring any bells?” You ask, a slight smirk on your face because you know you’ve won. Bless Nancy’s quick thinking.

Hopper’s face drops and he lets out a tired sigh. “So, you know about the girl?”

You snort. “Yeah, I know about her. Better yet: I've met her, and I know something awful is about to happen. Let me into the goddamn car. Now.”

The two of you have a stare down for a couple seconds before he finally gives in and unlocks the door. “You’re the worst in the group.”

“Oh, just wait until you hang out with my brother. Now, let’s go for a drive, shall we?”

–

The slight amusement you felt earlier quickly dissipates as Hopper explains everything going on. He explains El, who is really named Jane, and how he had found her mom and learned that some guy named Brenner was conducting experiments on her while she was pregnant. Thus, he created El and her powers and ultimately kidnapped her, leaving her mother to believe that she was dead. Now El has escaped, causing Will’s disappearance, and unfortunately some other horrible consequences.

Said consequences include driving to Nancy’s house because this Brenner guy apparently really wants El back and has gone as far as faking a twelve year old’s dead fucking body. Now he’s currently tracking her and the boys down.

Who knew Hawkins could have anything as exciting as a shady lab and actual men in black coats?

“Y/N, I need you to tell me everything you know about this girl,” Hopper demands, glaring at you from the rearview mirror as you sit between Nancy and Jonathan.

You do as you’re told, but admittedly there’s not much to tell him. Sure, you know El and have spent some time with her now, but other than that you’re still a bit lost yourself. The details are fuzzy in your mind, a picture has almost formed, but not quite.

As you’re struggling to explain more about the Upside Down to a very frustrated Hopper and a concerned Joyce, a parade of Hawkins Power and Light vans fly past the car and turn onto Nancy’s block. Once again, everyone in the car goes quiet.

“Neighborhood power outage?” You ask, really hoping you’re right, but worry is now creeping in. God, you really need to just stop leaving the kids alone after this week. Dustin was just supposed to see Mike, apologize to Lucas, and have a nice conversation about how friendship is magical and all that bullshit.

It doesn’t look like they did that.

Hopper suddenly jerks the car into a different neighborhood and speeds down the block. The speed scares you and Jonathan grabs your hand, sensing your growing unease. Then, the car brakes and you’re thrown forward by the momentum. “Fuck!”

“Sorry, honey.” Joyce murmurs to you, but the view in front of you catches your attention.

Hopper has brought you guys to an overlook of Nancy’s neighborhood with a perfect view of her house being surrounded by a bunch of expensive cars and men in suits carrying items out from her basement. You see one man holding a stack of your comics with one of Dustin’s old hats on top.

You want to throw up.

Nancy reacts no better than you do and immediately bolts out the car, Hopper and Joyce not far behind her. The man whips out a pair of binoculars and scopes out the scene while Nancy just stands there, stunned. She begins to speak to him, demanding to go into her house, but he doesn’t let her.

You’re left alone with Jonathan in the car and you feel your own panic begin to settle in. Seeing all the cars, the fucking helicopters, after your baby brother… You really, really want to throw up.

You feel yourself begin to spiral. You think about how you’d left Will alone to bike home and how, because of you, he never made it back. Instead he got taken by a monster that’s big enough to kill a fucking deer. Will, small and sweet Will, is gone because of your inability to keep those you love safe.

And now Dustin and the boys are facing the same fate, all because of your stupidity. You left them alone, again, after they’ve spent the entire week sneaking off and getting into trouble. You have no reason to be surprised by their actions. You’re not an idiot, you should’ve known better.

You should’ve known better than to listen to Jonathan about not taking Will home. You should’ve known better about letting the boys explore those woods the night you found El. You should’ve reported the missing girl, called the cops, anything else rather than help hide her.

But because of your stupid, stupid, need to take care of everyone around you, to please everyone no matter what it may cost you, you’re in a cop car as your brother is being hounded down by what appears to be the goddamn FBI.

This is all your fault.

Hopper is saying something to Nancy now, there’s a commotion outside the car door and you know you should go out there and help, but you can’t. Jonathan, seeing the argument outside as well, turns to tell you that he’ll go and help, but stops when sees how pale you’ve gotten and that your leg is bouncing wildly.

He’s known you for years; he knows what you look like right before you have a complete breakdown.

He grabs you and you find yourself engulfed within his chest. His hands come up to your hair and he runs his fingers through it in a way that’s always calmed you down. You find yourself beginning to cry at the tenderness.

“I’m here, bug.” Jonathan whispers the words with his chin tucked atop of your head. He runs a hand up and down your back, drawing small patterns to try and distract you. You don’t fucking deserve the kindness.

You tighten your arms around him, afraid that he’ll slip away just like everything else has. “This is all my fault.”

“You’re crazy if you think that.”

“I was… I was in over my head.” A few tears slip out and you don’t bother to wipe them away. Instead, you bury your head deeper into Jonathan’s chest, ashamed. “This entire time, I should’ve–I needed to be better and I–I wasn’t, bee.”

Your words slur together as more tears come, but Jonathan is able to understand you regardless. He slides a hand up and under your chin, gently coaxing your head up so that he can look you in the eye. “None of this is your fault. You hear me?”

“But–”

“No. Without you, those boys would probably be dead by now. Nancy and I included. You’re the glue holding everything together, you know more than anyone else involved.”

Jonathan’s eyes burn yours, he’s so sure of his words but you know they aren’t true. You pull away from him and try to collect yourself. “There’s an entire swat team ready to hurt my baby brother… I fucked up, Jonathan.”

“Still up for debate, but if you really feel that way, then I’ll help you fix it. It’s as simple as that.” Jonathan shrugs, saying the words so simply, without any doubt or hesitation. He has such confidence in you, and you know he shares the same thought that you do: together, the two of you can do anything.

You think about your birthday gift from Will, with you and Jonathan battling a dragon together with the boys, and the thought brings you comfort. Together, you and the boys will get through this one way or another. You’re sure of that much, at least.

Plus, you have El and Nancy now.

You wipe away a few more tears and manage a smile, now feeling a bit better “Thank you, bee.”

He smiles back at you and ruffles your hair. “Any time, bug.”

The moment between you is broken by Hopper throwing Nancy into the backseat, cruelly bringing you back to reality. The boys, they’re in danger. Hopper turns to face the three of you with a crazed look in his eyes. “Look, we need to find them before they do.”

“The kids?” You stupidly ask.

“No, we’re looking for Santa’s reindeer.” Hopper deadpans, which you honestly had coming. “Yes, the kids. Do you have any idea where they might have gone?”

“No, I don’t!” Nancy still looks shaken up and you and Jonathan don’t look much better.

“I need you to think.” Hopper presses.

Nancy lets out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. We haven’t talked a lot. I mean… lately.”

“What about you, Y/N?” Joyce asks, her voice a bit more gentle than Hopper’s.

You wrack your brain for where the kids may have gone, but with all your exhaustion and overwhelming feelings, you can’t come up with anything. Your brain is fried. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Byers.”

“Is there any place that your guys’ parents don’t know about that they might go?”

You and Nancy look at each other for ideas, but you both end up drawing a blank and shake your heads at Joyce. She sighs, but seems to be more understanding. You really wish you could be of more use, but besides Mike’s house, the kids don’t really go anywhere except…

“The junkyard!” You exclaim, throwing yourself forward in your excitement.

“What?” Hopper asks, his interest now is on you.

“The boys went there yesterday with El, they had a fight and–”

Hopper cuts you off. “I don’t need the petty details, just tell me where this junkyard is.”

“I… can’t.” You deflate now, realizing that you have no idea how to access this damn random field in Hawkins. It’s not really an official junkyard, just an area with leftover cars and trash piled up over the years. The boys have never taken you there, it had been the one spot they’d kept all to themselves.

“You can’t?” The man questions, his usual annoyance with you is present once again.

Before an inevitable argument breaks out, Jonathan speaks up. “I don’t know what Y/N is talking about, but I think I know how to ask the kids.”

–

When you get to Jonathan’s to look for Will’s walkie, you’re a bit car sick from Hopper’s damn speeding. You get that this is an urgent matter, but holy shit you feel ill.

You, Jonathan, Joyce, and Nancy hop out the car and start heading towards Will’s room. Jonathan and Joyce guide the way and you’re right behind them until you see Nancy stop in the living room.

“Woah,” she breathes out, examining the room around her. You forget that she’s only been a part of your life for a few days now and hasn’t yet seen the state of chaos that is Jonathan’s house.

“Yeah, welcome to the Byers home.” You say, grabbing her hand to tug her along.

When you get to Will’s room, Jonathan is digging through his drawers while Joyce is on the floor searching underneath his bed. You immediately walk over to the closet and begin sifting through his numerous boxes of comics and drawings.

“I got it!” Joyce announces from under the bed and scrambles into the living room with the walkie in her hand.

You follow after her and sit next to her on the couch. Jonathan stands next to you while Nancy is on your right and Hopper is by the door. Joyce fiddles with the walkie. “Okay, now what?”

“I’ll talk to them.” Nancy says, but you shake your head at her.

“No offense, but I think they’ll respond to me better. I mean, they like me.” Hopper snorts across the room and you close your eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Nancy bites her lip but eventually nods, thankfully understanding what you meant. “Yeah, okay. You should go first, then. They’ve always listened to you more than me.”

Joyce hands you the walkie and you thank her. You look at Hopper and hold the walkie up. “Anything I should specifically say?”

“No, just find out where they are and we’ll go from there.” He commands.

You nod and take a deep breath, silently praying that the idiots will respond both for your own sanity and pride. Exhaling, you bring the walkie to your lips. “Dustin, it’s Y/N. Do you copy?”

Silence, no one responds on the other end and you feel everyone’s eyes on you. “They’re paranoid right now, okay?”

Joyce reassures you that it’s fine while Hopper groans, unimpressed. You silently curse Dustin, who would choose right now to embarrass you and not listen.

You take another deep breath and try again. “Hello? Earth to Dustin and co? Guys, it’s me and I really need you to respond. Immediately. I will start crying if I need to.”

Again, more silence follows. You want to scream and throw the walkie across the damn room, but you keep your composure and try one last time and square your shoulders. You’re aware of Jonathan and the others in the room with you, so you’re dreading having to say this, but you know it’s the only way to get them to respond. ”Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and possibly El: what you’re about to hear is private and so incredibly embarrassing but obviously I have to prove that I’m me so you idiots respond.”

Jonathan’s eyes widen. “You’re not really going to confess to–”

You shush him and keep talking. “Dustin, remember when mom told you that Mews peed on my bed and that’s why I had to stay in your room for the night last year? Well, surprise! It was me. I peed the bed because I had a nightmare after you made me watch Friday the 13th.”

Nancy makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh covered up by a cough and Joyce herself stifles a laugh. Hopper doesn’t even try to hide his laugh and you just really wish the ground would swallow you up. All Jonathan can do is offer you a pitying smile. This is fucking mortifying.

And yet: no one answers.

You let out a frustrated groan. “Listen to me! Either you answer or I have a very annoyed and rude Hopper who would be more than glad to interrogate you boys himself. This is your last chance–”

“Ya know, you really should’ve just used Hopper as a threat from the start. We would’ve listened.” Mike’s voice comes through the walkie, causing you to sigh out with relief.

“Yeah, now we know you peed your pants at fifteen.” Lucas adds.

Then Dustin’s voice carries through. “I’m ashamed to be related to you, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Dustin. You’ve always had my back.”

Hopper takes the walkie from you and heads towards his car while demanding directions from Mike. He leaves without saying another word to everyone else, simply leaving you with Joyce, Nancy, and Jonathan to wait for his return with the kids.

You wring your hands together, unsure what to do in this situation. So, you do what’s familiar to you; you take care of those around you. “Mrs. Byers, do you still have my baking supplies here?”

–

Steve was having a rough week.

It started with finding you crying in the middle of the road while you were on your bike. At first, he hadn’t been sure it was you, but as you had biked closer and almost hit him, he knew then that you were indeed Y/N Henderson. When you swerved into a ditch to avoid hitting him, Steve did what any rational person would do.

He helped you.

You had been hesitant of him at first, nervous and guarded and Steve couldn’t blame you. Up until then, the two of you hadn’t had the best interactions. He’d always seen you around in the hallways at school, knew about your obsession with comics and Spider-man, and he knew how kind you could be and had witnessed first hand how devoted you were to helping anyone you could, regardless of who they were.

When Steve was in eighth grade and you were in seventh, Carol had bled through her pants and Tommy had been laughing at her and calling her disgusting. Steve hadn’t been much better, honestly, the two of them had reacted how any other idiotic thirteen year olds would. When Carol started to cry, Steve finally felt bad and told Tommy to knock it off and help his girlfriend. It started a whole argument between the two of them, but as they were bickering you swooped in and offered to escort Carol to the bathroom.

He had watched as you delicately took the girl’s hand and said something soft and kind to her as you guys walked to the bathroom. A lanky boy, who had been with you, told you he’d wait by your bike while you were with Carol. You thanked him and then you were gone, the door to the girl’s bathroom closing behind you.

“Who was she?” Steve remembers asking Tommy. He’d been curious about you and your actions, because not even ten minutes before Carol had bled through her pants, she had been making fun of your scuffed sneakers in the lunchroom. She’d been especially viscous back then, and yet you hadn’t hesitated to help her.

“Y/N Henderson. She’s new, moved here a few weeks ago.”

Steve had kept watching the bathroom door, hoping to catch another glimpse of you. “And the boy?”

“Jonathan Byers.” Tommy snickered. “Poor family, complete nobodies. Guess Henderson likes a pity project.”

“Yeah. Guess so.” The door still hadn’t opened, so Steve sighed and motioned to Tommy to follow him. “C’mon, my mom hates waiting for us.”

So, yeah. Your very first interaction with Steve had been you watching him make fun of a poor girl experiencing her first ever period.

Not a very good first impression.

Ever since then, Steve had kept an eye on you. Maybe not consciously, but you’d always been in his peripheral. He’d seen all the times you helped someone, from teachers to the local stoner kid, Eddie Munson, who needed a pen for his exam so you’d given him your only one and ultimately couldn’t take your own exam. Steve had always wanted to ask if you regretted that, but he was sure you’d say no. It’s just what you did.

He watched as you and Byers grew closer, almost inseparable, and Steve decided that eventually the two of you would get together and live happily ever after. When your hair grew a bit longer and your scuffed sneakers turned into pretty mary janes, Steve figured it’d happen in no time.

Then Will disappeared and Steve had found you crying in a ditch after almost hitting his car with your bike, and everything seemed to change. He wasn’t exactly sure what, but he knew he wanted to make you smile. He’d never been alone with you before and he felt bad about Will; he knew how close you were with him, so he cracked a few jokes, pretended not to know who you were, and then you smiled at him for the very first time.

A real, true, beautiful smile that had left Steve breathless for a moment.

God, then you laughed and Steve swore he’d never heard something more genuine and pure. He had felt like a little kid on Christmas day, giddy over the fact that he had made you laugh at his stupid joke.

Immediately Steve was addicted. He vowed then and there to do whatever he could to help you, to get you to laugh and smile and flash him that annoyed look that seemed to make your eyes reflect everything good and lovely.

So he did.

Steve had helped you out of the ditch and watched as you biked away, lingering until he was sure you’d be safe. He had invited you to his house for a party, figuring that maybe you’d enjoy a distraction from life. Sure, you had rebuffed him pretty harshly, but he had deserved it. He had been an ass to Byers.

But then Byers had taken pictures of his naked girlfriend and Steve’s world had felt like it’d been flipped upside down. How dare he? Byers was yours, everyone knew that. Hell, the entirety of Hawkins knew that. Why the fuck would he need to take pictures of Nancy, his Nancy, when he already had you? Not only was it creepy and invasive, but it was a major offense to someone as selfless as you.

Logically, Steve had to retaliate, it just wasn’t okay. He had told Tommy the plan and then before he knew it he ended up waiting by Byers’ car to confront him, and then alongside him had been you. Of course you’d been with him. Steve should’ve expected that.

He hadn’t wanted for you to get dragged into it so aggressively, but he also had to tell you the truth. Steve knew there was no way in hell that Byers had told you about the photos, so he had to be the one to break the news before anyone else could. It had killed him to see you so upset.

When Tommy threw you onto the ground, all Steve felt was rage. You weren’t supposed to be the one getting hurt, and yet somehow you were. It enraged him that he couldn’t do more to help, but before he knew it you were on the ground and he had rushed over to help.

He doesn’t remember much else that had happened next, but when your back pressed against his chest to avoid Byers, Steve had felt his heart flutter a bit. Again, he had felt like a little kid on Christmas day, giddy and excited and warm. You had needed him at that moment, so Steve helped.

“See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hard-wired into them. They just can’t help themselves.” He had placed his hand on your shoulder, a risky move he had been afraid would scare you away, but you stayed; you had been warm underneath his touch.

Steve hadn’t meant to break the camera, honest. It just kind of happened, his brain had been muddled by your presence. He felt bad about it, but Tommy had whooped all impressed and Carol had encouraged him on, so he had to pretend that it hadn’t bothered him.

But it had.

It had really, really bothered Steve.

He just wanted to help, to defend you, and yet he had gone too far. And he had felt awful about it.

So, when he had spotted you once again biking on the road, struggling up a massive hill the next day, Steve had figured that this was his chance to make it up to you. He thought that if he had offered you a ride, the two of you could talk. When you accepted, Steve had happily thrown your bike in the back and felt so fucking relieved. There was still a chance.

Then the two of you engaged in the banter that made Steve feel so alive and he knew that it’d all be okay, it had to be. He had teased you, gotten you to blush and laugh once more, and Steve felt like he was on top of the world being able to offer you some type of relief from the news of Will’s death. He had helped you, if even for a little while.

Somehow he had ended up confessing to you that he had been trying to make you laugh a few days prior, having pretended not to know your name. “Figured you wouldn’t want to talk about it and the least I could do was make you laugh. And voila, I did.”

He’ll always remember the shocked expression on your face, the way your eyes softened for a moment with vulnerability and Steve had found himself wanting to lean in closer to see if he could make you blush an even prettier red. He had refrained, though (barely).

But his good mood vanished when you had berated him about breaking Byers’ camera, which he had to admit was a selfish move on his end. He had already felt bad about it, but to hear you remind him that Byers didn’t have the money that Steve did, it hurt in a way he hadn’t been familiar with.

And yet, like you always seem to do to Steve, you had completely turned his mood around with only a few words.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

Your words had hit Steve harder than he would've ever thought possible. No one had ever told him that, not even his mother who always insisted on calling him her beautiful boy. Everyone always called Steve various names such as King Steve, the King, Steve “the hair” Harrington, and every possible way to complement his appearance, but no one had ever told him he was a good person.

You had called him “alright”, and those words had been on his mind for the rest of the day, creating a new warmth in his chest every time he thought them. You, Y/N Henderson, had thought Steve was “alright.”

It felt like he had won the goddamn lottery.

Until Nancy started acting weird and ditching plans with him for some mysterious “project”, which sucked. He hadn’t been sure what he did, but he was sure he’d done something to offend the girl. He always managed to do something to hurt those closest to him.

Imagine his surprise when he had driven to Nancy’s and spotted you, glowing in the moonlight and lovely as ever, looking for the girl as well. Pretty fucking convenient, huh? Something was up, Steve could feel it.

And boy, was he right.

There Byers had been, his arm draped over his girlfriend, sitting side by side in her bed without a singular care for the people they were hurting in the process. Typical.

Again Steve had felt that anger deep within him, the same anger from when he saw those pictures of Nancy, because how dare Byers? There you had been, standing underneath Steve, worried about Nancy because you’re the best damn person he’s ever met, and yet Byers had been abusing your kindness and trust for his own gain.

No.

Steve was livid.

“You deserve better, Y/N.” He regrets yelling at you and pushing you away, but Steve had been so overwhelmed with his anger. You deserved everything and more, why couldn’t anyone else see that? Why was Steve the only one who could see this?

Hell, anyone could hurt Steve. He wouldn’t care, he always deserved it in the end. He wasn’t nice or good or worth kindness, but you? Hurting someone like you, someone as selfless and wonderful and genuine, was goddamn unacceptable.

Steve did the only thing he knew: he had to hurt Byers and Nancy for hurting you.

So he did.

And fuck, Steve really wished that he hadn’t, because now he’s standing underneath the Hawk’s sign with a black eye and a bleeding lip and really wishing that you were here to remind him that he’s a good person.

He also really hopes that you still believe this.

Steve had only been trying to help you, to get you to see your own worth and recognize how much of an ass Byers and Nancy were to you. But you had run away, back to that asshole, and Steve had been left to clean up his own mess.

“Need a hand?” Steve calls up to Byers’ boss, who is on a ladder trying to scrub off the cruel spray painted taunts of Nancy.

The man looks down at Steve, his face twisting into a sneer. “Did you have something to do with this?”

Steve sighs, “I just… I wanna help.”

Maybe it’s his black eye or the pathetic way Steve says he wants to help, but the man comes down the ladder and hands him the dirty rag he had been using. “All yours.”

Steve takes his jacket off and accepts the rag and climbs up, ready to get to work. He really does want to help, he has been trying to help.

And Steve just really hopes that you can see his efforts someday, maybe even soon.

He’s had a really rough week.

–

The cookies only take you thirty minutes to make, which is way before Hopper is expected to be back with the kids, so you awkwardly hand out a plate of them to Joyce, Jonathan, and Nancy before sitting in between the teens and pulling out a comic.

Nancy hesitantly takes a bite, but her uncertainty melts into bliss. “Oh my god, these are delicious.”

“Y/N makes the best oatmeal raisin cookies, they’re insane.” Jonathan says with a mouthful of his own cookies.

“Thanks,” you say, flicking through the pages of your comic and trying to remember where you last left off. You keep an assortment of comics between Jonathan’s house and Nancy’s basement just in case you’re ever left with a need for one. Thankfully you’ve always planned ahead, because this latest issue of Spidey keeps you distracted as you wait for Hopper and the kids.

You’re doing your best to keep your anxiety at bay, but it’s hard. Baking has always calmed you, though tonight you’re still left feeling jittery. You’ve never been a patient person.

No one speaks as you wait, the clock on the Byers’ wall ticks away at a maddeningly slow pace. You try to focus on your comic, but it’s useless. Eventually you give up and flop your head onto Jonathan’s shoulder, frustrated and anxious.

The second you hear Hopper’s car pull into the driveway you sprint off the couch and run straight towards Dustin. He’s in your arms before he’s even had a chance to fully get out of the car. “Geesh, Y/N!”

You ignore his complaining and hold onto him tightly. He’s alive and safe and whole. Thank god.

Nancy does the same with Mike. “I was so worried about you!”

“Yeah, uh… me too?” Her brother mumbles back.

You snort at him and reluctantly pull away from Dustin to only then pull Lucas into a hug, which he hadn’t been expecting. You squeeze the other boy tight. “Where the hell did you guys run off to this time?”

Before they can explain, you see Nancy eyeing El and you immediately rush over to the girl and engulf her into a hug as well. You haven’t seen her in ages, you’ve missed her and she looks a mess. “El! God, look at you!”

“Is that my dress?” Nancy asks.

You inspect El’s dress and realize that yes, it is indeed an old dress of Nancy’s. You raise an eyebrow at the boys, silently asking for an explanation.

Dustin smiles and gives you a thumbs up. “Who’s ready for an update?”

–

All you’ve managed to learn tonight is that Will is the only one in the group with any artistic abilities.

Mike has drawn a horrible recreation of what Mr. Clark had explained to them at the funeral a few days ago, the whole tale about the flea and the acrobat. While the boy is explaining the situation to everyone else, all you do is wonder how the hell he couldn’t even draw a straight line.

“Okay, so in this example, we're the acrobat. Will and Barbara, and that monster, they’re this flea.” Mike points to below the line he’s so poorly drawn. “And this is the Upside Down, where Will is hiding.”

You’re sitting in between Jonathan and Joyce on the couch and notice their confused faces, causing you to sigh. “Oh, just wait.”

Mike glares at you but continues with his explanation. “Mr. Clark said the only way to get there is through a rip of time and space.”

“A gate.” Dustin adds.

“That we tracked to Hawkins Lab.” Lucas then finishes.

“Don’t forget the compasses.” You mumble, trying your best not to butt in too much. You’re not really sure how much you should disclose about the fact that you’ve been in on the boy’s adventure without informing the literal cop who is in the room.

Hopper, who is seated across from you, narrows his eyes at you.

Yeah. Best not to push it.

“Right, the compasses.” Dustin leans in closer to everyone to make sure they understand what he’s about to say. “The gate has a really strong electromagnetic field, and that can change the directions of a compass needle.”

“Is this gate underground?” Hopper now speaks up, though his eyes are still on you. El softly responds with a “yes” and the man doesn’t look too happy.

“Near a large water tank?”

“Yes,” El says softly again.

“You’ve been there.” You conclude, now holding onto Hopper’s gaze. Seems like you weren’t the only person keeping secrets, then.

Hopper doesn’t break eye contact. “Yes, I have. And you’ve been playing double agent.”

You shrug. “Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

“You should’ve told the police, kid.”

“Like you would’ve believed me.”

“You let these kids run off on their own, does it really matter what I would’ve believed if I had known they’d be in danger?”

You can feel your anger beginning to resurface. You’ll never admit it to anyone, but Hopper manages to bring out an anger within you that only your father could do before. Facing him, you feel like a ten year old again screaming against her father. “I did what I could! I’d never intentionally bring them harm. Don’t ever imply otherwise again.”

“Y/N, Hopper, now isn’t the time.” Joyce interrupts, her face ashen. You feel your anger drain from you as it’s replaced with guilt. She’s right, now isn’t the time for petty arguments with a cop who has a weird vendetta against you.

Joyce then turns to El, her voice shaky and you grab her hand as she speaks. “Is there any way that you could… that you could reach Will? That you could talk to him in this–”

“The Upside Down.” El finishes for her and then gives her own response as a nod.

You notice Nancy nervously picking at her fingers, so you ask El your own question. “What about Barb? Do you think you can find her, honey?”

Nancy gives you a smile and mouths “thank you”; you nod your head at her, understanding.

Again, El nods and you let out a breath of relief. For the first time in days, it feels like you finally have a solid and functional plan. Things are finally starting to all come together and now it isn’t just you who has to glue the pieces down. You have help.

After the conversation you help set up everything El needs to contact Barb and Will. You help Nancy tear a picture of Barb and lay it on the table alongside a picture of Will. Mike has switched his walkie into static and the white noise seems to help the girl focus.

All of you crowd around El at the table, not saying a word. Joyce is seated while you and Jonathan stand behind her, each of you have a hand on her shoulder and she holds onto you both like her life depends on it.

You find yourself holding your breath as El closes her eyes and begins her process of contacting Will. You’re terrified that maybe this time she won’t find him, or worse… She’ll find him, but he’ll be long gone already. You’ve already come so fucking close, you’re worried that your luck will run out soon.

Static fills the air and the lights start to flicker. El opens her eyes; her face falls with despair and you immediately know that something has gone wrong before she even whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Joyce’s hand tightens around yours. “What? W–What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

El begins to cry and her voice breaks. “I can’t find them.

“Shh, it’s okay, honey.” You’re at the girl’s side in a heartbeat, crouched down so that you can look her in the eye as you try to soothe her. “Hey, look at me. You tried your best, it’s okay. I’m right here, my dear.”

While you comfort El, Jonathan comforts his mother. The two of you share a quick glance and through it you’re both able to convey the same message: I’ve got her, take care of the other. Without any other word, you gently guide El to the bathroom and tell her to take some time to herself and that you’ll be there for her when she’s ready.

“Thank you.” She mumbles, tears still in her eyes.

“Of course. Take all the time you need. None of this is your fault, okay? I need you to understand that.”

El nods before she closes the door, but you know she doesn’t believe you. You guess this is how Jonathan had felt earlier in the car when you confessed that everything was your fault and he’d tried reassuring you that it wasn’t. It isn’t easy convincing someone that they haven’t done anything wrong, not when they truly believe that they have.

You hear the faucet running in the bathroom, so you walk over towards the living room to check in on the others. Mike is explaining El’s powers when you catch the tail end of their conversation.

“Like, she flipped a van earlier.”

“El flipped a van?” You ask, staring at the boys in shock.

They all smile at you and Dustin eagerly shakes his head. “Yeah, it was awesome.”

“I left you alone for five hours, Dustin.”

“That was your first mistake.”

Now Mike butts in. “I also jumped off a cliff and El caught me midair with her powers.”

Your jaw drops. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Shut up, Mike.” Lucas nudges him with his shoulder. “What we’re saying is, she’s drained.”

“Like a dead battery.” Dustin confirms.

Joyce looks around helplessly. You know she’s doing everything she can to follow along. “Well… how do we make her better?”

“We don’t.” You say, having known El long enough to notice the limitations to her powers. As far as you’re aware, the only way for her to regenerate her strength is through rest. But who knows, maybe during those five hours you left the kids alone they somehow found a magical crystal that heals El.

Mike nods at you. “Y/N’s right, we don’t. We just have to wait and try again.”

“Well, how long?” Nancy is seated next to Joyce and she looks just as overwhelmed as the woman. Had you not had some time before this with El and the kids, you’d be equally as confused as them.

“I don’t know.” Her brother responds, head ducked in shame.

Suddenly El appears. “The bath.”

You run back over to her side and crouch down once more. “Hey, I told you to tell me when you were ready to come out. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” she smiles at you, and though she looks exhausted, you know it’s a genuine smile. “I can find them. In the bath.”

“The bath?” You ask, and later you’ll regret doing this.

–

Dustin is the one who thinks of calling Mr. Clark, though you’re a bit skeptical of the idea.

“It’s late, what if he’s busy?”

Your brother laughs at the idea. “Sure, Mr. Clark will be busy and you’ll have a hot date waiting for you tonight.”

“Dude, harsh.”

He waves you off and dials the teacher’s number and you’re choosing to ignore the fact that it’s inappropriate for Dustin to even have the man’s number. You stand next to him as he takes the call, ready to intervene if needed.

“Mr. Clark? It’s Dustin… Yeah, yeah, I just… I–I have a science question.”

You drop your face into your hands and sigh with disappointment. Smooth, real smooth, Dustin.

“Do you know anything about sensory deprivation tanks?” Dustin’s eyes widen and he quickly looks over at you, covering the phone so that he can frantically whisper, “he asked why!”

“Why are you looking at me?” You whisper back, equally at a loss for what to tell the man.

“You’re no help!” Your brother whispers back, rolling his eyes at you before returning to the phone. “Sorry, technical difficulties. Anyways, we need to know for… fun.”

Again you facepalm and Jonathan, who is standing behind you, rubs your shoulders to relieve some of your stress. You relax against him and remind yourself to calm down. Dustin can handle this, he’s always been better at this stuff than you have; he was practically made for this life of lying and mischief. You were made for cookies and comics.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line and you can faintly hear Mr. Clark ask to talk about the topic later, preferably after a school day, but Dustin insists. “You always say we should never stop being curious. To always open any curiosity door we find… Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?”

The demanding tone causes you to stifle a laugh and you feel Jonathan doing the same. Yeah. Dustin was made for this.

Mr. Clark and your brother discuss the details of the tank for a while so you wander over towards the table and sit down. You hand Dustin a piece of paper and a pencil so that he can write down important information and flick through a comic as you wait.

As soon as he hangs up, Dustin throws the phone down and turns towards Joyce. “Do you still have that kiddie pool we bobbed for apples in?”

“A kiddie pool?” You ask at the same time Joyce responds, “Yeah, I think so?”

“Good. Then we just need salt. Lots of it.”

“I’m sorry, salt?”

You’re ignored once again as Hopper asks how much salt is needed. Dustin looks down at his notes and bites his lip. “1,500 pounds.”

“What the fuck…” You mutter under your breath, completely exasperated by the entire situation. A kiddie pool and 1,500 fucking pounds of salt? No. This is where you draw the line. You can handle monsters and alternate dimensions, but a kiddie pool full of salt to create a sensory deprivation tank is just too much. It’s your breaking point. “My life isn’t real.”

–

Somehow, amidst the diverging of groups to tackle everything needed to make El’s tank, you end up with Nancy in the shed at Hawkins Middle. You’re really not sure how it happened but one minute you were with Jonathan and Joyce, the next you’re in a shed with the girl you have very conflicted feelings over.

Mike is standing outside the door while you and Nancy struggle to grab the hoses from the shelf. The things are surprisingly heavy so it takes the two of you to get them down. You grunt as you throw a third one down into a barrel. “God, what do these things eat?”

Nancy chuckles. “No clue, but I’m sure Jonathan and Hopper are having a better time with all those salt bags.”

“Touche.” Then both of you are quiet again as you continue working.

“So… what’s up with you and Jonathan?” Nancy suddenly asks, which causes you to drop the hose you’d been holding.

“Shit!” You bend down to pick it back up, though you also do it to try and compose yourself because what the fuck. “And nothing. There’s nothing going on between us.”

Nancy frowns. “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m intruding or anything.”

“Intruding?”

“I mean… shit, I don’t know how to word this.” She fumbles with her own hose. “I just– I want you to know that you have nothing to worry about.”

You know she means well, but Nancy’s words only upset you for a multitude of reasons. “Nancy, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but why does it matter?”

“Why does what matter?”

“How I feel about Jonathan. I mean, you’re with Steve. He’s your boyfriend, there shouldn’t be any reason for me to worry about you and my best friend.”

Nancy looks down at the ground. “You’re right, but it’s not like that. Nothing happened between Jonathan and I last night. I promise, I know he’s yours and–”

“You know, I’m really fucking sick of everyone trying to tell me what Jonathan and I are.” You spit out.

Nancy flinches. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just focus on the task at hand, okay?” The girl nods and places the last hose into the barrel, but there’s something that’s been on the back of your mind for a while. “Look, I know you mean well and I’m sorry for being so mean, but… Cheating is something I can’t get behind.”

“I’d never cheat–”

“I know, but a word of advice? Figure out your own feelings before you hurt those closest to you.” Nancy’s frown deepens and you sigh. “Don’t tell him I said this, but even though Steve can be an asshole, he’s still a good guy. He’s already really hurt over seeing you with Jonathan. I just… I don’t want to see him get hurt again, it wouldn’t be fair.”

“Didn’t know you had a soft spot for him.” Nancy says, a hint of something else within her voice.

“Believe me, I don’t, but it sucks knowing that the person you love may love someone else.”

“Woah, I don’t think he loves me–”

“Maybe not yet, but he’s starting to. So again, I urge you to figure out what you want before more people get hurt. Jonathan included. He’s my best friend, Nancy.” You take a deep breath and will yourself to be vulnerable. “Regardless of whatever I may feel for him, he deserves to be happy. You need to figure out your feelings before you’re in too deep. Okay? He’s been through enough to last a lifetime and he’s the best damn guy in this hellhole of a town.”

Nancy swallows and for a moment you think she’s going to refute you, but instead she straightens her posture and gives you a curt nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You finish up in the shed in silence. Once you’re done you wheel the barrel out and motion for Mike to follow. “Here, can you take this? I’m going to go check on Dustin.”

Mike makes a face. “I mean, I guess, but–”

You quickly hand the kid the barrel and run back inside the school. You’re a shaking mess from your conversation with Nancy and you need to get away from her as quickly as possible. The conversation replays over and over in your head and each time it’s like a punch. Were you too harsh? Have you revealed too much to her?

Whatever, you don’t have time to dwell on it.

You run back into the school and slam the door behind you.

–

It takes a while to set everything up within the gym. You help Mike hold the hoses as Jonathan and Nancy turn the water on. Lucas holds a thermometer and monitors the water’s temperature and when it’s time, you use your new switchblade to tear open the bags of salt alongside Jonathan and Hopper. Every five bags or so, Dustin drops an egg into the pool to check the buoyancy.

It’s a team effort, but eventually the eggs begin to float and you breathe out with relief. One task down, a million more to go.

Mike switches on the walkie and you help El put on her tapped goggles. Once everything is ready, you hold her hand as she carefully steps into the water. When she’s fully in, you step away and sit down between Jonathan and Nancy, a position you somehow always find yourself in.

As soon as El begins to float in the water, the lights start to flicker before completely shutting off. You feel the static that always seems to accompany her powers. No one moves, too scared to break El out of her concentration.

You wait for a few minutes, uneasy. You’ve never actually seen El’s power in action besides when she made your comic book fly up in the air, so you’re unsure what to do while you wait. Then, faintly, El mumbles, “Barbara.”

Nancy jolts to life and leans in closer to the girl. The lights flicker once more but this time you see El’s body tremble with fear.

“What’s going on?” Nancy asks you.

“I don’t know. I think… I think she’s scared.”

“Scared? I–” Nancy leans even closer to El now. “Is Barb okay? Is she okay?”

You pull Nancy back, not wanting to overwhelm El, but it’s too late. The poor girl trembles even more and repeatedly mumbles “gone” until her voice raises and she begins to cry out. Nancy starts to cry and you motion for Joyce to hold El while you handle Nancy.

Joyce reaches over to comfort the girl and you pull Nancy into your arms as she cries. “I’m so sorry, Nancy.”

She cries harder and you tighten your arms around her. All your anger towards the girl from your conversation from earlier has faded. Barb, Nancy’s dearest friend, is gone. You can’t imagine how she’s feeling right now. If you ever lost Jonathan… God, a piece of you would die.

Eventually Nancy manages to calm down and pulls away with a soft “thank you”, but you keep your hand around hers as you pay attention again. You know she’s embarrassed about her reaction, but you don’t blame her for a second. Later, after all of this, you’ll make sure to check up on her.

“Will?”

You hear Jonathan gasp next to you and he grasps at your free hand. You sit there in shock and feel your heart swell. Tears lump in your throat at the confirmation of Will being alive. Will, beautiful and sweet Will, is alive.

You squeeze Jonathan’s hand and the two of you look at each other. There’s tears in his eyes as well and you both let out a slight chuckle of disbelief. After this horrible week, everything that you’ve been through together to find Will, finding out that he’s alive by each other’s side only seems fitting.

“Tell him… Tell him I’m coming. Mom is coming.” Joyce instructs El, strength returning to her voice.

The walkie sparks to life with Will’s voice. “Hurry.”

You choke back a sob. “Little bee,”

Jonathan squeezes your hand again and you rest your head against his shoulder, completely sagging with relief. He’s here. He’s real and he’s alive and he’ll be in your arms once again soon.

“Okay, listen. You tell him to… To stay where he is.” Joyce is speaking with an urgency now as she hovers over El. “We’re coming. We’re coming, okay? We’re coming, honey.”

The sweet moment is ruined by the walkie’s intense static. El quickly sits up and tears her goggles off and begins to panic. She flings herself into Joyce’s embrace and you hurry over to console her as well. She’s just a little girl, she’s been through so much for someone so young.

You kiss her forehead the way Jonathan always does to you. “You did so well, El. I’m so, so proud of you. You’re incredible, okay? We’ve got you, you’re safe with us.”

Joyce echoes your words and the two of you hold tightly onto El as she cries. You look over at Nancy, who is staring off into space with her own despair in her eyes, and you feel such an intense wave of hurt hit you. You’re all so young. The kids are all huddled together in shock. None of this is fucking fair.

–

You opt to stay behind with the kids on the bleachers as Jonathan, Joyce, and Hopper discuss what to do next. Nancy has walked away, presumably to grieve, so you give her the same she desires.

El shivers, so you tighten the towel around her. Lucas rubs her arms to try and warm her up as well, something that brings a faint smile to your face. You guess the two of them sorted out their differences, then. Good. El needs more friends like Lucas in her life if she’s going to continue hanging around Dustin and Mike. They’re insensible, but Lucas isn’t so bad.

Dustin’s stomach rumbles and he lets out a sheepish laugh. “Sorry, ignore that.”

“Oh!” You gasp, suddenly remembering the cookies you packed in your bag. You had grabbed them before leaving Jonathan’s, figuring the kids hadn’t eaten all day. “Here, made these fresh today. You all get three, that’s it.”

The boys fight over who gets one first and you leave them to sort it out themselves. You roll your eyes at them; they’re such heathens. You focus your attention back to El, who remains pressed against your side. “Hey, honey. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,”

“Hmm, I think I can understand why.” You grab a cookie while the boys aren’t looking and offer one to El. “Have you ever had an oatmeal raisin cookie?”

She shakes her head.

“Ah, well then you’re in for a treat. You see, I’m kinda known for my cookies. Everyone loves them, see?” You point towards the boys, who are about to start throwing punches over the biggest piece, and El giggles.

Your heart brightens at the sound. “Here you go, try it.”

She accepts the cookie and takes a tiny bite. As she chews, her eyes lighten and she lets out a quiet “yum”.

“‘Yum’ indeed.” You agree with a smile.

Eventually the kids settle down and eat their own cookies in silence. You figure that the events from today have finally caught up to them, so you eat your own cookies in peace. You’re content to sit with them for a bit, relieved to have all your boys with you safe and sound. You’ve missed them.

Once you’re done eating, you wipe your hands off and gently nudge El aside. “Sorry, honey. I should go check on Jonathan. I’ll be back in a sec.”

She nods at you and moves so that you’re able to get up.

“Where you going?” Dustin asks with his mouth full.

You make a face at him. “Dude, don’t talk with your mouth full. You know mom hates that.”

He sticks his tongue out at you and you roll your eyes. “I’m going to go find Jonathan. Make sure no one leaves, alright?”

Your brother salutes you and you salute back before heading towards the gym doors. You’re about to open the doors, but then you see Jonathan sitting with Nancy against the wall through the glass panel.

You freeze, unsure if you should interrupt them. They seem to be deep in a private conversation, Nancy’s face is twisted with so many emotions you feel almost guilty for looking in. Like you’re intruding on something.

Then again, it always feels like you’re intruding when you’re with them lately.

Is this really what you want?

Your hand hovers over the door handle and for a moment you think you’ll pull it open, but you don’t. Instead, you turn around and walk back over to the kids. You’re not sure what you’re feeling as you walk over, but when Dustin sees you he seems to notice a change in your demeanor.

He frowns at you. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” You say numbly, sitting down next to him. Your shoulders are stiff, your leg is bouncing up and down.

Dustin looks over towards where you came from and he seems to freeze as well. He looks between you, then Jonathan and Nancy in the hallway, and he exhales. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

You think your brother will leave the topic at that, but he surprises you. He grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze. You look up and see that he’s smiling at you and your heart breaks all over again for an entirely different reason. You look around at Lucas and Mike, who are bickering over the cookies, at El who watches in amusement, and then finally at Dustin who is holding your hand and offering you whatever comfort he can provide you.

Dustin knows you as well as you know him, he can sense a shift in your mood before you even can. He’s here with you, holding your hand because the boy you love has broken your heart once again, and Dustin is doing this without you having to tell him. He just knows, and you love him all the more for it.

You’re surrounded by so much love it takes your breath away for a moment.

You squeeze Dustin’s hand back, so immensely grateful that he’s your brother. “I love you, kid.”

He smiles that wonderful toothless smile that you’ve loved since he was a baby. “I love ya too, sis.”

“Are you two done? Can I ask Y/N for more cookies now?” Mike calls over, though his voice is kinder than usual. You guess that even he has noticed your mood change but doesn’t want to pry.

You wipe your eyes quickly and stand up. “So demanding. Let me check my bag, but I doubt it.”

“I’m your favorite, let’s be honest here.” He responds, trying to get you to laugh.

It works. “Sure, buddy.”

You walk over to your bag and rustle around, but you know there’s none left. You’re just thankful for the distraction, and you have a sneaking suspicion that this had been Mike’s plan all along. You look up and see him staring at you with a concerned look in his eyes and your heart swells even more.

You’re so surrounded by love; sometimes it feels like you’re even drowning in it.

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star-light-imagines · 1 year

Note

Can I request a Sesshomaru and Todoroki hc. Where their s/o likes to draw, and has a sketch book filled with drawings of them?

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° this really took on a life of its own as I started writing, I stayed true to the request but did add in a touch of angst , because that's what came to mind picturing this take place.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° I hope you don't mind!

Sketches of You.

: ̗̀➛ Includes - sesshomaru x reader. shoto todoroki x reader. fluff. mutual pinning. slight angst. jealous shoto. bonus content.

: ̗̀➛ Warnings - gn! reader. slightly mean sesshomaru. annoying jaken. slight angst. cute loving moments.

: ̗̀➛ Word Count - 4,420

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

(all art and characters are do not belong to me , credit goes to the original creators.)

Sesshomaru:

Curiosity. That's what he first started to feel towards watching you completely transfixed on the book you had in your hands. However, his intrigued stares were never granted a glimpse because when he would approach, your hands would tightly clasp the book closed.

As if you could sense when his eyes darted towards your artwork , you never failed to keep it just out of his view unknowingly adding to his ever-growing interest.

Your hands moved gracefully along the paper , as if it was dancing along the pages with the pencil held between your fingertips. Attention immersed in the lines forming in front of you , while a slight breeze annoyingly moved a strand of hair into your eyes causing you to pause.

"What is that book in your hands y/n? Is it for the school you speak of in your time?" he decides to ask while staring at you questioningly, the curiosity showing slightly on his features.

You hurriedly placed the book in your bag as he moved closer to the tree your back was now leaning against. The sketches were far too revealing of your feelings for him to see. No, if he saw these sketches he would see every emotion you had for him. You weren't ready to know if those feelings would be returned or denied.

"It's a sketchbook. Some of them are for my art class , however a majority of them are just so I can have a little piece of this era to keep with me while I'm at home." you said with a blush starting to grow pink on your cheeks.

"Hm."

He looked away from you as he looked towards the sky instead, sunlight catching his golden eyes making them almost glow. All you could picture was drawing the scene before you as soon as possible before you forgot how his silver hair blew in the slight breeze.

Annoyed. He starts to become annoyed when you had let Rin look into the sketchbook but you still went through immense effort to keep his eyes from looking at what you were creating. Why am I not allowed to see your art , do you not think of me as worthy enough to look upon it?

"Y/N! Y/N! look at these flowers I picked! Can you draw the same ones for me?" Rin had asked sweetly while placing her hands on your knees while you had been sketching.

"Of course I can." A smile effortlessly taking over your features as you speak to the girl.

"It's beyond me why you would want something useless like a drawing of a flower, child!" Jaken made his irritation known with a shrieking voice.

You start to diligently draw the flowers provided to you as you tune out the conversation.

"Oh Jaken! y/n told me that even though the flowers may wither away someday. However, if I have a drawing of the flowers then I can always keep them with me." she cooed happily.

"Don't you think so too , Lord Sesshomaru?" The little girl bubbly questioned

"Hm." was his only reply.

"That reminds me, Jaken, there's one of you and Rin together here."

You remembered suddenly as you finished the sketch of the flowers, quickly turning to the page of the drawing before anyone could see the others that plagued the pages of your sketchbook.

"WHAT! You drew me without my permission!" he screeches loudly.

Sesshomaru's irritation started to rise as the conversation grew on. Jaken's inherent gasp of wonder as Rin and him looked upon your sketchbook and the sequel of happiness she had praised upon you.

You happily gave her the sketch of the flowers she tasked you with, and she quickly was treating it as her prized possession.

"Lord Sesshomaru! Don't you want to see the drawing y/n made for me? It's so beautiful!"

"No , I don't need to set my eyes upon such trivial endeavors." It was said with such disgust that Rin had paused slightly and silence filled the air.

He had said the words out of irritation and annoyance, however you wouldn't know that.

Quickly without even sparing a glance towards the paper in Rin's tiny hands , had he stood from his spot next to the tree and left the campsite.

Leaving you with silent tears you refused to let spill in his wake.

Disappointed. He's disappointed in himself for allowing such insolent behavior. He had acted in such a childish way that he could only imagine his younger half brother would have reacted towards Kagome. He wasn't like him , he was more mature , more refined. So why is it bothering him so much anyways?

Was it because you never let him see the art inside that mysterious book?

Or was it the fact he had learned you had drawn the others in his pack and easily let them look upon your art while you still kept him at a distance ?

His thoughts plagued him as he stared at the full moon in the silence of the night.

Confused. When you had apologized the next morning while packing up the camp. There was nothing for you to apologize for which had hurt his pride more than when he acted so childish in front of you.

"Do not give apologies for something that is not needed."

There was no reply from you as a shocked expression formed on your features.

He knew he needed to atone for his behavior , however per his customs he would rather do so the right way rather than a lackluster apology, so he had to wait.

Guilty. After that night , he noticed you had stopped drawing as much as you used to. Before you had used almost every bit of your free time to draw, now it was replaced with you picking flowers with Rin or making small talk with Jaken and himself.

A few weeks had gone by since that night, and you had yet to even take out the sketchbook more than once a week much to his dismay.

Even though he never outwardly expresses it , watching you draw under the shade of the trees as Rin pranced around in the fields of flowers with Jaken at her heels brought a sense of peacefulness over him.

The furrowed eyebrows in concentration as your hands moved the pencil gracefully almost effortlessly across the sketchbook resting in your lap. A slight breeze rippling through your hair and making one strand a bit into your eyesight. Before you had moved the strand behind your ear to stop it constricting your line of view.

He knew you loved to draw and apparently had a gift for it from the praise Rin and Jaken had given you that night. He didn't want his childish words to keep you from doing something you desired to do.

He took a moment to peek at you over his shoulder , your eyes glancing at the clouds above. A slightly sad expression overtaking your facial features before you had made eye contact with him almost as if you had known his eyes were on you.

He quickly moved his eyes forward to gaze at the trail in front of him, a stoic expression while his heart hammered in his chest. This was new, he never felt this way before. He never felt the need to make someone want to smile more strongly than he did right now, and he had no idea on how to accomplish that with you.

Content. He led you aside one night to a river near the campsite. The moon light was reflecting off the water enchantingly and fireflies decided to dance along grass nearby.

"You no longer draw , how come ? Is it not something you desire to do?" he asked with a stoic expression as gold eyes made contact with e/c, filling the silence between you two.

"Oh , I just figured maybe I should take a break from it for now, plus my sketchbook is almost full so until my next trip home I'm a bit limited."

He noticed how pink dusted your cheeks before you quickly looked away. A smirk slightly formed on his lips at the sight , he liked seeing a blush form on your cheeks more than he previously would have realized.

"You apologized before for something that didn't need your apology."

"Oh, yes, that's right." you stammer out not seeing where this conversation could be heading.

"Do not do so again. If you know you aren't at fault , don't lower yourself to others' bad behavior."

You stood there stunned, not quite sure what to say before uttering a quick " Yes." when his stern eyes reached yours.

When that conversation happened you had mostly apologized in order for there to be no ill will between you two and make sure he wasn't upset at you. Never would you have imagined he would tell you twice now not to apologize for something so trivial in the long scheme of things.

"If anyone needs to apologize , it would be this Sesshomaru for the unsightly attitude I had given you. I should have told you this before now , however it is a yokai custom to come bearing gifts when asking for forgiveness."

Sesshomaru pulls out a set of what looks like custom made art tools. They were beautifully handcrafted with fine luxurious materials, more than likely yokai crafted at that.

A gasp of awe escapes your lips as your fingers gingerly gloss over each of the tools, you focus mostly on drawing but you could now expand your art to other mediums such as painting if you so desired.

Your heart had swelled to the brim with affection and happiness that spilled out in the form of tears running down your cheeks.

"Is it not to your liking." he asked, his lips forming a tight frown.

"It's beautiful." you say with what you're sure is the happiest smile you ever graced him before.

Yes , he is content with this for now.

Realization. Later that night as you two were walking back to the campsite, you ended up asking him why he had responded in such a way in the first place. When he had told you how he felt irritated about the others getting to see your art, while he felt left out and cast aside, you instantly started to feel guilt weigh down your shoulders.

"There's a reason I never let you see. It's not a good reason, but I was just embarrassed of what you would say once you saw what I draw everyday." you say while heat spreads to your cheeks.

"Why would you be embarrassed of showing this Sesshomaru?"

You quickly take the sketch book out of your bag and hand it to him before you can change your mind. He eyes you while his clawed fingers carefully open the book in his hands and you look away, embarrassed to watch his eyes linger on the sketches.

He's silent as his fingers graze the pages within , silently turning the pages every few moments after he takes in the contents of the page before.

"These are all sketches of .." he trails off in amazement, his eyes taking on a softer look than you have ever seen before.

"They are all sketches of you. yeah there's Rin or Jaken , maybe a beautiful valley every now and then , but you are what I sketch everyday. You are what I like to see most even when I'm in my era and not by your side."

That's when he realized the feelings he had towards you this whole time wasn't just ordinary feelings for a companion in his pack , or a human he had just happen to keep by his side.

He wanted to keep you by his side. He wanted to always make you smile the way he you are now with your eyes glowing and your cheeks dusted with a pink hue.

Most importantly, he couldn't be just content with you as a companion for much longer.

I never want to let y/n go.

"Y/n I desire to see everything you draw from now on."

"Of course" you reply shyly.

"You are stunningly beautiful when you blush like that. If only I had the skills you possess in order to show you as you had shown me."

Wide eyes catch the smirk dancing on his lips before he walks towards the campsite , hand still wrapped tightly around your sketchbook as he did.

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Bonus Scene:

"Sesshomaru , I've been meaning to ask this. where did you get these art tools ?"

He glanced down at you as your head rested on his shoulder, your new sketchbook on your thighs as you gracefully sketched a beautiful scene of the two of you this time under a cherry blossom tree.

A pleased smile graced his usually stoic features as his eyes became softer at the sight. "I had them specially made from a yokai craftsman in my territory, the day Jaken was left to guard you two I had gone to collect them."

You smile happily as you nuzzle your face into his shoulder more as a slight breeze whipped some strands of hair onto your face.

He reaches a clawed hand towards you elegantly , placing the strand back behind your ear taking a few seconds to pull his fingers away before smirking at the obvious heat rising to your cheeks.

»»———-　　———-««

Shoto Todoroki:

Curiosity. He started to notice you would often be sitting close to the windows in the dormitory, with all of your attention focused on the sketchbook on your lap. You would never once glance up at the environment around you, not even when one of your classmates was usually loud. His interest peaked , he couldn't help but wonder what you had been drawing for days on end.

Shoto had decided to try and take a glimpse at your artwork after watching you work dedicatedly on the page before beneath your smudge stained fingers.

The sketchbook had been slammed closed before his eyes could see the mysterious artwork hidden within, only feeding into his curiosity even more. You had given him a quick glance , making eye contact before placing the book safely in your bag.

"It's not polite to look at someone's personal belongings without permission, Todoroki."

His eyes glazed over to the bag that now held the notebook that is just out of his reach, before returning his eyes to stare directly into yours evenly almost as if stating a challenge.

"I'm just curious as to what you are drawing that has you so transfixed."

A smile makes its way to your lips.

"Ever hear that curiosity killed the cat."

You hastily made your way to your dorm room, bag in tow. The thumping of your heart was echoing in your ears as you walked. That was close, too close for comfort. If he had seen inside, he would know just how deeply of a crush you have been harboring for him since you first met him.

While he still stood there, piecing together your sentence.

Were you saying I would die for being too curious?

Content. Since the day he tried to take a glimpse of your sketchbook , you had been careful to not let him approach too closely. Making sure that if you had sensed him , you would immediately close the book in your hands. However, the curiosity he felt started to fade. Taking in the sight of you drawing so earnestly and with such dedication was art in itself.

You were enchanting , eyes focused on the pages before you. a firm grip on the sketchbook as it laid on your lap and your remaining hand danced across the paper delicately. His eyes were in a trance as he watched you from across the room , gliding along with each movement your fingers made.

A small smile graced your lips as you finished whatever art piece you had set your heart on that day, and that's when he felt it. Watching your eyebrows relax and peace settle into your face as you looked content as you placed the sketchbook bag in the safety of your bag. He noticed he no longer really needed to know what you were drawing as long as you continued to smile just like that.

Warmth filled his chest at the thought as he gazed at your retreating figure.

Yes, he's content with this.

Bitter. Shoto realizes that you are drawing in Midoriya's notebook. the feeling of ice shivered down his spine as he saw you so intently focused with that same smile he felt so content at seeing. Now being shown to his best friend in the seat next to you. Oh, so that was why you never let him see your art , it's reserved for someone else.

Midoriya had asked you a few days ago to help him redesign the sketches in his notebook. He noticed how you were always drawing in your free time and decided you would be the best person to go to for the request.

You've never taken commission work before, and even though you weren't getting paid it did feel nice having someone look at your art and see how excited they got at the results. Watching how happy Midoriya was at the sketches you had already placed made you eager to accept more requests in the future if you ever got the chance.

"Wow! y/n I can't believe how amazing your sketches are!" he says in wonder.

"Thank you, but you are really flattering me too much." you say happily as you make the finishing touches on the last drawing of a figure of midoriya doing a move he's wanting to practice.

"I really mean it y/n! This is way better than anything I've ever managed to do. What made you start drawing?"

You quickly put down your pencil as you go into thought for a moment from the sudden question.

"I guess.. it would have to be the fact that even though moments pass by so quickly, a moment I draw will stay forever encased like a photograph for me to look at whenever I want to revisit it."

"Y/N! That's beautiful." he states with slight tears forming in his eyes, while he's forcing himself to hold them back.

"Oh Todoroki! You're up early this morning, come look at y/n's art." Midoriya said excitedly as he motioned for Shoto to join them at the table you were residing at.

Your heart hammered in your chest at the thought of him finally looking at your artwork. This was finally something he could see that wouldn't immediately show how much you liked him and you were nervous about his response to your designs.

"No thank you. I heard curiosity killed the cat." he says with a stoic expression.

e/c met a heterochromia mixture of grey and blue in shock, he had refused to see the art he tried so desperately to steal a glimpse of a few weeks before. Had he really taken you seriously with your remark?, or did he just no longer care to look at what you were drawing anymore. The excitement in your heart slowly fading out, you fell silent.

You watched as midoriya continued to talk to him with a slightly shocked and worried expression, before eventually shoto had left the room leaving you alone once again with the green haired boy beside you.

Numb. The days following he had started to distance himself from you and Midoriya. Deciding to no longer eat with the two of you at lunch like before or spend free time together in the dormitory like what had been a routine for him. He now isolated himself in his room to escape the questioning looks you would give his way or the worried expressions his best friend would give him whenever he became too silent.

He didn't want to distance himself from you , but every time he saw you he remembered that the only one you allowed yourself to open up to was midoriya. He realized he would never be able to get close to you the way he was and it made him feel cold.

The cold feeling overtook him in a way that was so intense that his body and mind felt numb.

I lost y/n before I even had a chance to get them.

You had noticed how he was distancing himself and your heart ached in pain at the fact. every time you had tried to reach out, to question what could be plaguing his thoughts he would shut you out. Not only was your mind suffering from the worry , but so was the art you had tried to complete in order to relax from the stress.

The sketches of shoto that you had tried to finish the last few days have been a failure compared to your collection of artwork consisting of the one man taking over your thoughts. It was pointless to try and draw him when he won't even talk to me anymore.

A silent tear strolls down your cheek as you look up to the ceiling of your dorm.

Why do I feel so numb?

Midoriya had told me recently that my art might be able to reach people when words fail.

Taking a quick glance towards your sketchbook before you could second guess your thoughts, you grab it tightly in your hands and make your way towards his dorm room.

Surprised. The knock on his door had shaken him from his thoughts, and the sight of you as he opened his door had his stoic expression falter slightly as his eyes widened just a bit where you could notice. He obviously wasn't expecting you to be here in his doorway, Why would he when he had been actively pushing you away ? and yet here you were smiling sadly back at him in silence.

"Y/n?" he lets out a confused gasp of your name that he believed he only spoke in his mind for a moment when you took a few beats to answer.

He notices you take a breath inward before releasing it and the determined e/c orbs reach him.

"I won't know what's wrong unless you tell me."

"And I won't know how to help you unless you tell me." you continue before he can reply.

"But I can care about you, and I want to help you so stop pushing me away!"

You place the sketchbook in his hands in one rough motion as you finish your last sentence. Your gaze now directed at the ground and the tips of your ears growing red and the feeling of his eyes lingering on you in the silence that fell over you two.

Shoto looks down at the sketchbook in his hands while processing the words you had told him. he knows he was being to hard on you, he shouldn't have treated you so badly the last few days. he just couldn't force himself to watch you be with his best friend when he had just recently discovered that the feelings he's harbored for you all along would go unrequited.

He slowly opens the sketchbook prepared to see sketches of Midoriya or even just random sketches of the world through your eyes, however once the contents reach his vision he freezes. his fingers grazing the person so familiar to him on the pages before flipping through each page.

"This is .." he starts before stopping, surprised to see that every page was filled with sketches of one person.

"You. They are all sketches of you." you say a small smile placed on your lips as you hesitantly glanced up to him.

His heart filled with so much joy and awe that a few silent tears slid down his cheeks as he realized that not only did the person he had feelings for , have feelings for him as well , but that he had unintentionally hurt you more than he intended when he distanced himself.

"I was jealous." he states, suddenly making your mouth open in shock.

"What?!"

"Midoriya was able to see your artwork. It seemed like he was so much closer to you than I would ever be."

Shoto gazes turns downward towards his feet as a slight blush graces his cheeks from the revealed emotions.

You were surprised by the sudden confession and let a lighthearted laugh escape your lips from the pressure of his distance to put on your heart. He glanced at you making eye contact before you leaned into him, placing a hand on his cheek as you got closer.

"You know that cats have nine lives ? so even if they do die of curiosity they can always try again." you say before leaning to press your lips to his.

Happiness. The ice he had felt had melted and the numbness from the cold was warmed completely from your feelings that reached him through the sketches you had shown him and the kiss you have given him.

"I'm sorry for hurting you." he says softly while placing a strand of your hair behind your ear and looking deep into your eyes.

You smile brightly up at him in return.

“Promise to talk to me next time before you jump to conclusions?”

He laughs slightly as a small smile takes over the frown that graced his lips.

“Promise.”

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Bonus Scene:

“So why were you drawing in Midoriya’s notebook?” he asked while you ate dinner together in his room.

You looked at him with a bright smile excited to tell him all about how you were now wanting to start commissioning your artworks.

“He asked me to help him redesign his notebook. He told me his drawings were making his notes look too messy.” you said happily before stealing a piece of his food from his plate.

“I really wish I would have paid more attention that day.” he said with a small sigh before the smile returns as he gazes at you.

“However I don’t regret anything because somehow throughout all this , I managed to get you.”

»»———-　　———-««

A/N: Should I keep my headcanons / imagines like this or make them more simple & short?

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

you and jake in a forbidden kind of situation, maybe you’re an important admiral daughter, rooster’s sister, don’t know. you two get close, but he can’t really make a move on you, someday you end up in the same bed, you’re like cuddling and you just move a little too much, just enough to leave him hot and bothered.

now what’s really on my mind is his big hands holding your hips in place, so you wouldn’t move anymore, like warning you “you need to stop now or i won’t hold myself”

this is along the lines of a goose lives/nobody dies au? basically they're at the bradshaw home, so carole and by extension nick would still be living there, with the reader as his younger (but adult) sister. hope that makes sense!!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

The Bradshaw house is jam-packed, and you're lucky that you have a bed at all. As a resident and not a guest, it would be common courtesy to offer your bed up to one of the pilots that have come to visit, but the one you'd chosen, Jake, had some other arrangement in mind.

Said arrangement is his broad hand over your stomach, toned chest against your back and muscled arm hanging over your shoulders. You can feel the soft, warm air that he's exhaling, washing over the back of your neck in waves as he tries falling asleep.

You'd normally be squished in with Bradley, a trip down memory lane of all the times you'd crawled into your big brother's bed after a nightmare when you were little. You're much bigger now, but you still have the same twin bed, so having someone even more broad-shouldered and bulky than your brother in it means you're extra close.

Bradley's not happy with the sleeping arrangement. Before he could secure his spot beside you to ensure that none of his friends did anything sleazy, your two younger cousins had latched onto his legs, demanding to sleep in their favorite Bradshaw's bed. You'd take it as an insult, but you're their favorite when he's gone, because they forget he exists. So you'd snickered as he committed himself to a restless night full of cold little feet and floppy babies, and lead his rival to your bed by his large, rough hand.

It feels nice where it's placed over your belly. Warm and gentle, a constant presence that rises and falls with your breaths.

You don't start it on purpose, you really are just uncomfortable laying on your hip. So you tilt yourself backwards, towards Jake, and settle further against his chest.

Then he moves. It's slight, barely-there, but he pulls his hips away from yours. Only his hips, and he clears his throat against your shoulder.

The second time is an effort of confirmation. You feign discomfort again, grunting slightly as you shimmy even further back on the mattress, locking your hips to his once more.

This time you feel it. A growing bulge, stiffening ever-so-slightly as your hips move. He's frozen, hoping you somehow can't feel it, because he can't scoot further back on the bed or he'll fall.

The third time is just for fun. You grind back into him, and his hand shoots from your stomach to your waist. His large hand blankets your hip bone, squeezing firmly.

"Don't." He murmurs, stern.

"What? You don't like it?" You peer over your shoulder, face centimeters from his own, "Feels like you do."

I'm serious, Y/N." He squeezes harder at your hip when you try to move it, "Stop now, or I won't be able to hold back."

"Then don't." You parrot him, equally as stern, "Why do you think I chose you? And why do you think I asked my cousins if they wanted to sleep over tonight, too? This is not a coincidence, Jake. I want you, too."

He's still at the information, save for the hardening of his bulge. Then slowly, tantalizingly slowly, he moves his hand off of your hip, and covers your mouth with it.

"Silent," He commands, lips brushing your ear, "Absolutely silent. Do you understand?"

You manage a nod, and he pries at your pajama shorts with his free hand, trapped beneath your side. They're loose, and he's able to flatten his hand over your cunt without taking them off. He brushes a thumb over your clit, dragging ticklish stripes up and down your slit with his thick pointer finger. They gush gooey warmth just below your stomach, and you arch yourself into his grip.

"Easy," He hums, at the bucking of your hips, "If you move, and the bed squeaks, I'm stopping."

You're at his mercy now, body begging for touch and lips silenced by his massive hand. When you feel one of his thick fingers slip beneath your waistband and slide against your slit, you gasp. It's muffled, of course, but Jake freezes.

"What did I tell you?" He whispers gruffly against your ear.

You press a kiss into his palm as your answer, a vow of silence.

"Better." He grunts, applying gentle pressure to your cunt, finger just barely breaching your slit, "If Rooster finds out he'll kill us both."

With that, he pushes his finger fully into your cunt, and its met with warm slick. You're decently lubricated already, the excitement and scandal of whatever's about to happen pooling itself inside of you.

"Good," He whispers, pumping his finger in and out, in and out. Once it's fully slick, sliding easily through your folds, he adds another, keeping them pressed together as he guides them through your cunt. You're spread open quicker than usual, but you suppose it's because his fingers are thicker than yours, and more exciting.

It only makes you more wet when he hoists himself up to his knees, rolling you onto your stomach and keeping his hand over your mouth. He has to sit up to tug your panties to the side and take his cock out of his pajama pants, but once he's settled and ready to go, his free hand lands by your shoulder.

HIs cock is thick, far thicker than his fingers that had already been a stretch. But it's only a slight burn that accompanies his cockhead at your entrance, and when he pushes himself in and bottoms out, it's gone. Now there's only pleasure swirling beneath your belly, and it's insanely hard not to moan.

He has to go slow and gentle so that the bed doesn't make noise. You're dreaming of the day when he can jackhammer you into the mattress and you can scream his name, but for now the slow drag of his cock through your cunt below your ass is enough.

More than enough, you think, as the pleasure coupled from his fingers and his cock is starting to overwhelm you. He's working a steady pace, albeit slow, and each thrust into your soaked cunt is a reward.

You can tell he's already chasing his own high, too. You suppose it's the forbidden aspect of the sex, the fact that if you get caught by anyone, you're in trouble for life. He feels so wrong bucking his hips against yours, feeling the soft flesh of your ass against his skin, but that's why it feels right. And it feels wrong for his cock to slam against your insides, over and over again, twitching slightly, but that's why it feels right.

It's quick, hasty sex so that no one has the chance to catch you in the act. You ramp yourself up, imagine the sight of his cock disappearing beneath your ass and into your gaping cunt. In turn, he fantasizes about the noises you're biting back behind his palm, leaning down to bury his face against your shoulder.

"Cum," He grunts, lips pressed to your skin and forehead sweaty, "C'mon, darlin', can't get caught. Hurry up."

His insistence, where you'd normally consider it bossy and inconsiderate, is hot. He's demanding an orgasm from you, ripping it out himself with every thrust of his thick cock. There's no way you can't cum, not with his breath on your neck, his voice by your ear, and his cock in your cunt.

When you spasm, he does, too. The convulsion of your cunt, rapidly tensing and clenching around his rock-hard cock make him stifle a groan against your skin. He hits his own climax as you're coming down from yours, and your legs tremble at the feeling of his cum gushing into your cunt.

He braces himself on his knees, using his free hand to flip you over. Once you're on your back he collapses over top of you, panting beside your ear and muffling the sound into your pillow. He only removes his hand from over your face to kiss you, lips lazily suctioning to your own.

"Good," He hums, careful to keep his voice soft as it thrums through your entire body, warm in his chest, "Nice and quiet, darlin'. They'll never know."

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factorialsotherfandoms · 8 months

Text

Philza comes with his evidence backpack, and Cellbit wants the ground to swallow him whole. Too much, its too much, he can't-

"Is now a bad time?" Philza asks, concerned but voice still light. "I can come back Friday?"

"No," Cellbit sighs. "No, I guess... Just..."

He waves a hand in a direction, and hopes Philza can make some sense of it.

"..." Philza doesn't move. "You alright mate? You seem a bit... off?"

"I'm just tired," Cellbit replies. "I just..."

Does he say, does he not? Philza has been one of his few defenders on this island, trusting him even when there's been nothing to trust, thinking on his wavelength and beside him.

He has to, doesn't he?

Cellbit can't make this sort of decision and tell anyone.

"I'm stepping down," Cellbit says. "From investigating. Cucurucho... I'm not working for the Federation, but I can't keep working against them either. Can we just... I'm sorry, I'm sorry I can't be what you need me to be."

"You're not? But-" Philza's brow furrows, and Cellbit fears the yelling he heard in the maze.

He didn't hear the words, but he heard the tone; he knows he is too exhausted to survive that.

"Please, Philza," he says. "Let it rest. The Federation, the Order... I have no part in them any more. Good luck. I hope you find what you're looking for someday."

There is a long pause and Cellbit thinks, maybe, that the silence is worse than the yelling could ever have been.

"Alright," Philza's voice is gentle as he deflates. "Alright... I understand."

Cellbit expects that to be that, watching Philza put the evidence bag away. It stings more than he thought it would, but even that struggles to bring him strength through the haze. He has failed Philza - failed everyone - in giving up. So of course he is now turned away. He knows he's only wanted for what he can give, why did he expect different?

But then the bag is gone, and Philza is still there. He reaches out, takes one of Cellbit's hands, and cradles it in his own. Calloused hands are soft and gentle, and Cellbit understands why so many on the island call him father.

It doesn't feel as teasing any more.

"Are you safe?" Philza asks. "Cucurucho isn't going to come down on your ass, is he?"

He is. Cellbit cannot answer - he just wants to sleep.

But maybe none is needed, because Philza's grip tightens a little, before thumbs start to smooth over Cellbit's knuckles.

"Fuck," Philza says, then he breathes. "Alright. We've got you, King. If anything happens, I'll be there as soon as I can. Don't worry about that dumbass bear, okay? No matter what there are people here who love you, and we will save you."

Cellbit closes his eyes, and nods, and tries to be strong again. He opens his mouth, and-

"None of that," Philza interrupts. "I do it because I want to. Now, when's Roier coming to bed? I don't really want to leave you alone right now, mate."

There's something in Philza's tone, but Cellbit doesn't care to interpret it. Instead he shrugs, "not sure. But really, I'll be fine. I just need to rest."

"I'll bet," Philza looks almost heartbroken as he says it. "Let's get you somewhere safe, then. You good to warp to my place? Phil and Missa?"

"Why?" Cellbit manages to ask as he takes out his warpstone.

"I'm not going to ask you to show me your bedroom, Cellbit. I can make choices about my privacy, not yours."

It sounds so obvious like that, but it's not quite the question he meant. Still, Cellbit just follows along. It's easier, far easier, to just get whatever this is over with so he can get home and to his bed.

He warps and, as soon as he arrives, Philza takes his hand again. He's led to the hatch, and down - "be careful on the ladder" Philza reminds him - to the children's room. Then, not content to leave him there, Philza takes him to the right, through another two security doors - its not hidden, but its certainly protected - to a room all in orange. Around the walls are photographs, and there's an enchantment table in the centre, but Cellbit does not really think of that.

"This is Chayanne's room," Philza smiles sadly as he says it. "But, I'm sure he won't mind. Here, if we just-"

Cellbit tries to make a response, to compliment it, to offer condolences, but instead he is led to the side of the stairs, and then beneath them. Tucked away there, in the dim, behind five security doors and still hidden, is a heap of mattresses, covered in blankets and pillows and even the odd bean bag.

"Get yourself comfortable," Philza pushes him a little towards the pile. "I just need to adjust the doors. Make sure Roier can get in, and Felps. Pretty sure Fit just lets Pac and Mike in anyway. And Forever," Philza's breath hitches very slightly, almost inaudibly. "has access anyway."

Philza hurries off, and Cellbit remains where he was left. He doesn't need the mothering, he is sure, but- But maybe it is nice, to not have to think.

He thinks so much, for everyone, what's wrong with this?

Soon enough Philza is back, carrying two bowls of something.

"I've let Roier know where you are, and Felps as I saw he was awake," Philza says as he passes over a bowl. "I know I ain't your family, but hopefully... Anyway, Chayanne made these before he vanished, always was a better cook than me. Just heated it through - I'm sure he wouldn't have minded it being shared."

"Are you sure?" Cellbit asks. "This is your son's? I'm not-"

"Eat," Philza is a little more pushy this time, even as he sits on the mattresses himself. "You're family, if you want to be. A bit extended, but aren't we all? Forever is my family and he's also yours, and that makes us family too. By some definition, anyway."

"Oh," it's said so simply, and Cellbit has no mind for a puzzle right now. Instead he takes the bowl of soup, and he drinks it.

They eat in silence and, once done, Philza tucks both of the bowls away. Cellbit is nudged again towards the mattresses as Philza cleans up, placing his hat and his coat beside the nest.

Great, ruined wings shudder a little to escape their hole, and despite the feather growth over them Cellbit can see the scars still deep in the flesh, the unevenness where muscle has been ripped away, how they shake with the effort of holding themselves up.

He feels like he needs to do something, to have some response to seeing such fantastic wings laid low - or perhaps to the trust shown to him in their display - but he's just...

He's just tired.

Philza is a little unsteady as he, too, comes into the nest. He shifts the pillows and the blankets and opens his arms and Cellbit- Cellbit can't.

He can't be being offered this, he barely knows Philza, he can't be trusted this much, not when people so much closer to him don't. It feels like a lie, a kind one at that.

"Come on Cellbit," Philza says. "I don't have all night; some of us sleep at reasonable hours, you know?"

"It's not unreasonable," Cellbit manages to retort, even as he gives in.

Stone crumbles to the wave, in time; Cellbit pulls off his outer layers, and slowly climbs into the nest.

Crawls into Philza's arms.

The arms close around him, and ruined wings hide him from sight.

"There we go," Philza whispers. "You've done well, more than enough. Just rest now, mate; I'll keep things ticking over in the meantime."

Cellbit doesn't want things to stay 'ticking over', he just wants them to end. Part of him knows he doesn't really, that he'll want those things later, if only because Cucurucho /will/ betray him, and Forever still isn't home, and its only with them carrying on that anyone he loves will be safe.

Philza runs a hand through his hair; Cellbit's thoughts still.

It's a little while before either of them speaks. To his own surprise Cellbit is the one to do so, with another childish feeling question, another "why?"

"Because I trust you," Philza replies. "And if I trust you, I care about you. If I trust you, you are my flock, and it fucking sucks right now, but we take care of each other. You're alive? That's /all/ I need from you, mate, just for you to stay alive."

Cellbit wishes it was that simple, he really does.

"If I'm here, your house isn't safe," he tries to reason, unsure why he's even fighting it now.

Philza holds him a little tighter, "if my flock safe, what's the point of a house? I'd take you to the real nest, but human lungs don't like being that high for long."

Real nest? Cellbit didn't think Philza had a secret base. It's a better kept secret than most on the server, it seems. To even know it exists, and presumably in the sky...

The idea is crushed by exhaustion, and apathy, and a desperate, desperate need to sleep.

Fingers brush in his hair once more.

"I've got you," Philza says. "Get some rest, mate; nobody will hurt you here."

And if they do, Cellbit has no doubt Philza's scythe will find its way into their eyes.

He curls up, presses his head to Philza's chest, and desperately tries to sleep.

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp cellbit #qsmp philza #so about the transcripts I read from last night huh #mental health issues #qsmp archivists #they're both coping so hard bless them #scenes that will never happen but I can dream about anyway #alternate universe where schedules don't suck and so they were a little closer already

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weird-is-life · 7 months

Note

Hi I was wondering if you could do a steve harrington x reader where he asks reader to move in and its sweet as well as give her a promise ring

Hii lovely, ty for the request! I haven't written for Steve in a while now, which is a crime really😭. Hope you like it, warnings: use of pet names, fluff, (0.6k)

Steve's been saving up money for his own place for a while now. But finally, he has enough to find a nice, cosy place to call home.

And surprisingly, he finds one pretty easily and signs the papers straight away with a big big smile.

He can imagine his future life in there already, there's just one thing missing, you. But he plans on making it your home too, well If you agree to move in with him.

So as you guys walk hand in hand from your date, he says," I want to show you something.." He says it exactly right in front of the apartment complex. He intentionally chose restaurant close to the apartment.

"Okay?" you say, a bit confused by it, but you follow him inside as he navigates the building with his hand holding yours.

You get even more baffled, when you stop on one of the last floors and he magically brings out a key and opens the door.

You hesitately step inside the apartment behind Steve. It's open and big, enough space for a couple. Your first thought is that you like it, it looks very cosy. Even if there's no furniture yet.

"What do you think?" Steve smiles at you, tho there's a small flicker of uncertainty on his face.

"Steve, what's this?" you ask shyly. Of course, you've thought of the obvious answer, but you don't want to assume anything and then have your hopes crushed.

"Well...," he starts as he smiles at you nervously, " you know, I've been saving money for a while now. A-and I finally saved up enough for a proper apartment. I looked for a good place and found this one and i knew it was the one, so I....I got it. "

"You got it?" your eyes go wide, "it's really yours?"

"It's mine," he grins proudly," but it could be ours. I'd like for you to call it home, too" he adds.

Steve retrieves something from his pocket, as he extends the hand towards you, you recognise what's on it. There's a key and a ring, hanging on the chain.

"I know, it can be a lot, but I'd love it if you moved in with me, honey" you slowly accept the chain, eyes even wider then before.

Steve notices your panic as you look at the ring and reassures you," I'm not proposing," he chuckles," even if I really want to marry you someday, sweetheart. It's just a promise ring for now."

You are relieved immediately, because you don't think neither you or Steve are ready for marriage yet, but you love the idea of the promise ring. And you love the idea of living with your Steve full time much much more.

You suddenly throw yourself at Steve, hugging him tightly with a giggle. It catches him off guard for a second, but when he processes it, he squeezes you tightly, face burying into your neck. " Stevie, I'd love to move in with you, t-this place is perfect."

Now it's Steve's turn to be relieved, he is so so happy, that you agreed. Because he doesn't think he would survive it if you didn't.

"Really? Oh my god, you are the best, sweetheart. I promise, I'll take care of the cleaning, I'll cook, I'll do everything." He lifts you up in his arms and spins you around happily. Steve's a giver, always, so you have no doubt, that you and him will split the household chores equally.

"I know, Stevie. I love this place and I love you," you say with a happy smile.

"I love you more, you have no idea," he responds, lovesick look on his face (that's basically his normal look around you). He gives you quick kiss or two and gives you a tour of the apartment.

"We need to go to the stores tomorrow.....-" you instantly start planning the decorations as you leave the apartment. And Steve just nods, he is more than happy to let you decorate it however you want. He needs only one thing there, you. Nothing else about it matters to him.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington

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countrymusiclover · 4 months

Text

2 - Doctor Nicknames

Part 3

Feisty Coffee Girl

Izzie and I had gone to the bathroom in the gas station since we needed some groceries and the nearest grocery store was an hour away. Holding a hand over my stomach my sister ripped open the package of pregnancy tests we had just bought. “Here it should show up in five minutes after you take it.”

“I can’t be pregnant right. Mom would be furious if I were.” I gulped nervously taking the test out of her hands going into one of the stalls.

Izzie leaned her body against the wall waiting for me. “We will worry about mom after you take the test. Right now just keep calm and do the test so we’ll have an answer.”

“Okay I’m gonna do it now.” I answered her back peeing on the stick and just sitting on the toilet until the time was up. Opening my eyes I blinked through tears so emotional about what was down in front of me.

Izzie knocked on the stall door gaining my attention. “Y/n, what does it say?”

“It uh ... .it's positive.” I croaked through tears with my sister kicking open the door since I hadn’t locked it. She helps me up to my feet getting my pants up seeing me begin uncontrollably sobbing.

She wrapped her arms around my shaking body and I cling onto her for some strength. “Shhh I’m here for you. We will get through this.”

“You really think that?” I asked her.

Izzie broke the embrace holding me by my shoulders sniffing through some tears. “You and I are extremely tough and we will get through this.”

“What do you think it's going to be? Boy or girl?” Moving my hands down to my stomach I sniffed through my own tears. Closing my eyes I paused just thinking about the choice I had to make. I could get rid of it or keep it and become a teenage mother so young.

Izzie clicked her tongue with a light smile. “I'd say girl. She'll be just as badass as you are.”

“I might hope it's a girl someday too.” I gave her a weak smile. Running one of my hands over my stomach would change everything the second the baby's father said he didn’t want to be a teen parent so I ended up on my own. “I've always liked the name Everly. I'll probably name her that.”

“Everly will be an adorable name.’ My twin sister grinned hugging me again and we just held one another.

My phone had been ringing the entire time I was driving home from work. It had been almost over two weeks since I had gotten the random guy's number. Driving towards the elementary school I was on my way to pick up my daughter from school. Caroline was only able to take her during the mornings. Pulling the car to a stop in a spot I entered the school going to her classroom. “Seriously, how many times are you going to call me.” Taking out my phone I ignored the call.

“Mommy!” Lifting my head up I saw my daughter running straight to me. Her hair getting thrown in every direction until she flung herself into my waiting arms.

Wrapping my arms around her I laughed into her hair dropping myself onto my knees. “I've missed you. I miss you all the time you're not with me.”

“Can we go get pizza?” Everly asked me when we broke the embrace.

Brushing hair out of her face I chuckled. “Sure we can. Oh one second it's your aunt Izzie….hey Izzie what's up?”

“Would you be able to come to the hospital? I am stuck here for the rest of the day and I have some gossip I really need to tell you about.” She explained through the phone.

Holding the phone up to my ear with one hand I take Everly’s with my other leading her out to the car. “Izzie I don't know if that's a good idea. I have Everly with me and we want some dinner.”

“Meredith is sleeping with one of the residents in the hospital. I think that's enough of a reason to hear the whole story.” My sister declared.

Sitting my phone in the cup holder I helped Eve get into the backseat of the car getting into my driver's seat switching the phone to speaker making our way home. “Izzie, I love you. I want to spend time with you too. But it is not a good idea to bring her to the hospital.”

“I want to see aunt Izzie.” Everly said from the backseat of the car.

Izzie heard her and kept convincing me. “See, she wants to come see me. It will be fine. I can even add on that there's pizza down in the cafeteria. So please come visit me tonight.”

“Fine Isobel Stevens. We will come to the hospital. Just do your best to not get my daughter sick because then I'll have to take care of her for two weeks.” I caved running my freehand turning the steering wheel changing in the direction of the hospital. Hanging up my phone I hoped that this would just be a good visit and the next time we could hang out at my apartment or at Meredith's house that she was living in with some of her fellow interns.

Everly was already undoing her seatbelt to get out of the car by the time I had parked us outside the hospital. Leading her inside by the hand we found my sister standing at the nurse desk with her three other friends who were Alex, Christina and George. “Aunt Izzie!” Everly removed her hand away from mine jumping up into her waiting arms.

“Oh there's my favorite little niece.” Izzie twirled her around laughing until she sat her down on her feet.

Alex came around the nurse station with a smirk on his face getting close to me. “So you’re her sister huh. I gotta say you might be hotter than Izzie is.”

“Uh…Hey Eve, I think I heard somebody say they have pizza in the cafeteria. Why don’t you go wait over there for a second and then we can go get something to eat.” Bending my knees to be her level I put my hands on my knees to be eye level with her.

Everly grinned skipping over to one of the empty waiting room seats. “Deal. Be quick, mommy.”

“Okay so what gossip were you dying to tell me that we couldn’t do at home?” I focused my attention on my twin sister with her standing in front of me.

She throws her hands up beginning to ramble off with such bright and bubbly excitement that she naturally showed off to her friends and her patients at the hospital. “The doctor that I told you Meredith slept with is the head of brain surgery and is named Derek Shepherd. But he failed to mention that he was married and then his ex wife came to work here. And now for some reason the guy who also cheated on his wife is now in the hospital in that room.”

George leaned his head to the side, getting our group's attention to focus on the open room where a guy was stitching up his own face even though Meredith was standing in front of him. “Why is he suturing his own face?”

Cristina replied. “To turn me on.”

Alex explained where I parted my mouth opened hearing he was clearly impressed. “Cause he's Mark Sloan. He's like the go-to plastic surgeon on the East Coast.”

George gasped in shock. “That's the guy Addison was sleeping with?”

“Who’s Addison?” I raised a brow at the name.

Izzie filled me in. “You can't really blame her, can you? So basically it goes like this. McDreamy is apparently been best friend up until Mark slept with Addison who was McDreamy's wife till he found them sleeping together.”

“Oh wow.” I didn't know what to say about all their crazy gossip.

Cristina said back. “No, not really.”

George gagged. “Yes you can.”

Meredith finally came around the corner entering our conversation. “McSexy wants an x-ray to check for fractures and I think it's a bad idea if I take him.”

George stammered. “Why? Why?”

Alex bolted towards the opposite direction. “I'm on it.”

George asked. “Why is it a bad idea?”

Cristina quoted. “McSexy?”

Izzie responded and Meredith made a disgusted face. “McYummy.”

Meredith and Cristina said in unison. “No.”

Meredith finally spoke up again with another nickname. “McSteamy.”

Cristina awed in agreement. “Oh there it is.”

Izzie glanced down at me. “Yep. What do you think about the nickname Y/n?”

George gagged running away the second the door open and I turned my head in the direction. “Uh, just ah choking back some McVomit.”

“I don’t see what the big fuss about him is - holy shit!” I felt my mouth hang open when a guy with dark brown hair came out wearing a black tea shirt and gray pants.

Everly spoke up. “Shit?”

“You can’t say that. Only mommy says that.” Whipping my head around I warned my daughter with a finger before putting my attention to the guy in front of our group. “I….I’ve met him.”

Christina, Meredith, Izzie and George gasped all looking over at me. “How?”

“Don’t I know you from somewhere…Feisty Blonde?” The guy that looked exactly like Mark made his way over to us. His green eyes landed only on mine and they remained there with him putting almost no gap between us. “What are you doing here, Y/n?”

Running my fingers through my hair I chuckled nervously feeling my face turn red with the interns watching our interaction. “I guess I’m meeting you for the second time, Mark Sloan.”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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cecilysass · 3 months

Text

Shine On (2/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 2: Nice Catching Up

Farrs Corner, Virginia Eighteen days later February 20, 2015

Mulder meant to finish the job before she came over. But it got away from him, like everything seems to these days.

So when she finally comes back—the long-anticipated visit home—there are still stacks of books all over the living room, all these untidy towers of hundreds of books. Cryptid encyclopedias, profiling and behavioral analysis monographs, texts about mythology and religion, science, art, language, history. They’re everywhere, chaotic, precariously balanced, piled, heaped, stacked.

“In the middle of a project, Mulder?” she asks as she walks in, gazing blankly around the room.

“Yeah,” he says with forced enthusiasm. “I’m finally reorganizing the books.” He says this like reorganizing the books is something they’d long planned to do, instead of a recent, impulsive middle-of-the-night idea. “I’m organizing them by topic so I can find things more easily when I need them. Good idea, right?”

“Sure,” she says, staring warily at the piles. He hopes she’s not noticing how many of her books still remain in his collection. “Good idea.”

The way she says this chills him, because it’s just so polite. The same distant tone of voice she used sometimes way, way back, when they were brand new partners in the Hoover building.

“Can I take your coat, Scully? Did you want something to drink?”

“Oh,” she says, running her palms anxiously down the front panels of her sleek pale blue coat. “I don’t think so. I don’t mean to stay long. I just need that box of bedding.”

“It’s right there,” Mulder says, gesturing behind a tower of books. “Behind the psychology section.”

“Right,” she says, craning her head to see it. Her eyes meet his again, and they’re soft and reluctant. “Then… I should probably go.”

“No,” he calls out quickly. A furrow appears in her brow. “I mean … please. Scully. Just stay and have a drink. You haven’t been home in so long.”

“It’s not my home any more,” she points out softly.

“I know,” he replies. “Really. I’m not confused about… anything. I just want to talk to you. Sit down for a bit. I have tea. Or that apple cider from Trader Joe’s you like.”

She seems to hesitate. “There are books all over the couch.”

“I can move them. Hold on.” His voice is calm, but inside he’s churning. He moves to the couch, begins moving books. “Just stay a while.”

Her lips lift into that small, closed-lip smile he’s missed so much. “Okay. Just a little while.”

***

She’s clutching her mug of tea, telling him about work, and he can’t help but notice how physically straight and formal she is right now. It almost looks like she’s bracing herself, worried the couch is going to trap her somehow, like it’s going to try to bundle her up in his Aztec blanket and hold her there.

Mulder doesn’t like this body language. It looks too much like she doesn’t live here anymore.

“So things are really much the same at Our Lady of Sorrows,” she finishes. “Some good days, some bad.”

“It sounds like overall you’re still satisfied at the hospital then,” Mulder says.

“Yes,” Scully says, nodding. “I’d say that’s accurate. I wouldn’t rule out doing something else someday though.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, Mulder,” she says, another tiny smile. “But you know. You have to stay open to extreme possibilities.”

He returns her smile. “And uh… all the other parts of your life are good, too?” He can’t bear to ask her any more directly than that. He picks up his own mug and takes a sip to give himself something to do.

She bites her bottom lip. “Yes,” she says. “Yes, I have a nice new house. Very contemporary. I get together with friends from work occasionally. I see Mom regularly.”

He wonders what she means by “friends from work.” He knows what it meant back when they were “friends from work.”

“What about you, Mulder?” she asks. “What are you doing these days?”

“I told you,” he says. “I’m reorganizing the library.”

“Besides that.”

I miss you terribly everyday. I spend hours cataloging each one of my mistakes. I ponder all the big questions, like: is there any future where I might be with you again? Is there any alternate reality where I could have made you happy? Is there any world where we have our son and live together as a real family, and that grief that’s always in your eyes isn’t there?

“I write articles,” he says. “I’m thinking about a book.”

“That’s great, Mulder,” she says. Again, that false encouraging tone.

If she still lived here—if she was still his Scully—she would have considerably more to say about these messy piles of books and this aimless underemployment. She would have some dry comment. She would be suggesting constructive ideas. She would be pushing him to do better.

This Scully sounds like a stranger. Like she has no place in his life to have an opinion. Like she has no place in his life to care.

There is an awkward pause.

“Well,” she says. “I think it’s probably time I take off.”

“Oh yeah?” he says. Don’t beg, he tells himself. “You sure?”

“Yes,” she says, looking around for a coaster on the coffee table and setting her mug down. She stands up, smiling courteously. “It’s been very nice catching up with you, Mulder.”

The innocuous sentence hits him like getting socked in the stomach. He feels his face flushing red hot. He swallows, unable to politely respond.

“Okay,” he says, too shortly. He stands, too. “Sure. Ever so nice.”

She’s lifting her coat from the coat rack, but turns around to regard him stoically. She seems to debate asking her next question. “Is there a problem?” she says carefully.

Mulder hesitates. He knows he shouldn’t say anything else. Just let her go. Let the visit end pleasantly. “No,” he says with effort. “I … guess not.”

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, it’s only …” No. He just can’t hold it in. “Look, I’m sorry,’” he snaps. “It’s just … it’s fucking hard to hear ‘nice catching up with you, Mulder’ come from your lips.”

“It is nice catching up with you.”

“We didn’t used to be people who ever had to catch up,” Mulder says bitterly. “We used to know everything about each other, we used to be everything to each other, and excuse me if I just can’t stand talking to you like we’re old college chums.”

“You invited me to stay and have tea.” Her pitch has dropped a full octave. “You suggested we talk. I was doing what you asked me to do.” Her voice breaks midway through her sentence, and he realizes she’s got tears in her eyes. She closes them, evidently trying to calm herself. “I have to go, Mulder.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice trembling. “Yeah, okay.”

“I… I’ll see you, all right?” she says, practically a whisper.

“Will you?”

Someday there will be a last time, he thinks. A time visiting him will just be too much trouble. A time she’ll decide her attention is better spent on other things, on other people.

“Of course,” she says. She walks over and picks up her box of bedding. “Of course I will. I always will.”

He watches her turn and hurry out the door. He remains frozen in place near the couch. He doesn’t trust himself to do anything to respond. Not to say good-bye, not to walk with her to the porch, not even to wave. He might do something unbelievably stupid, like tell her he still loves her. Or try to stop her from leaving. Or shout obscenities at her in anger.

Instead, he focuses all of his energy on listening. He listens as her car door opens and closes, her engine starts. There is the rough clatter of her tires down the gravel drive. Faintly, he can hear her car door opening and closing again as she lets herself out the gate and closes it up again. Then finally there is the sound of the motor of her car growing gradually more distant. Far away from him again.

Mulder lets himself sink down again on the couch.

In a flare of angry self-hatred, he kicks the towering pile of novels nearest him. They tumble sloppily into a messy heap on the floor. He watches this destruction morosely and thinks about how good she smelled.

He wishes he’d remembered to wish her a happy birthday.

***

About thirty feet outside, between two bushes, Jackson sits, hugging his knees, his back pressed uncomfortably against the wooden frames of the side of the farmhouse. Between the branches of the bush he has a clear view of the red-headed woman driving away.

It’s not a very good hiding place. All day long, since he arrived this morning, he hasn’t had to worry too much about hiding. The man inside—the man who lives here— has been distracted, concerned about the woman’s visit, thinking almost nonstop about what she’ll say and do. Jackson’s been able to circle around the house cautiously, trying to examine everything with his eyes and with his mind.

Which is good, because he’s nervous.

Just now, if the red-headed woman had looked up towards the house as she rushed out the door—if she’d turned back to give it one last careful look—she’d easily have seen Jackson there, crouched, watching furtively at the side of the house.

But she didn’t look back. Not even once, quickly.

She only wanted to get in her car and go, go, go. Her mind was so loud Jackson didn’t even have to really use his shine. Her mind broadcast inside his brain without him trying at all.

Jackson watches her car closely, holding his breath, until she’s completely driven away, until he can’t see any sign of her car anymore.

She’s pretty, Jackson reflects, even for a mom-aged lady. Her car is nice, fancy, like she’s got some money. And even though she’s not a kid, even though she’s an adult, with an extremely complex mind— it’s easy to know her thoughts. The easiest it’s been for anyone he’s ever met.

What’s really weird, though, is that with her, it’s really more than thoughts. Something strange was happening with Jackson and her feelings, too.

He felt these little explosive bursts of her emotions, wracking his own body unexpectedly like fireworks and then quickly fading. That’s never happened before. It’s interesting, but it’s also upsetting, like having your own emotions pushed aside by someone else. Her feelings fade, but they don’t entirely go away. They leave a kind of residue for a minute or two.

And just now? She was very, very upset, in about fifty different ways Jackson can only barely sort out. She was angry, for one—angry at the man inside for not being fair to her. She was really guilty, hoping she’s doing the right thing by leaving. She was sad, so sad, wishing she could go back inside and be with him again. Jackson wonders why she doesn’t just go back. He felt her wishing hard for something she thinks is gone now. She’s grieving it. Almost like you grieve for parents that have been shot.

And mixed up in all of this, Jackson feels how much she loves the man inside the house. That’s just this big, enormous feeling, like a tsunami of emotion. More than he can cope with, really. It makes his head hurt. He rubs his temples slowly, trying to massage the feeling away.

Jackson knows who the woman is, of course.

He recognizes her, at least her mind. He wonders if that’s why he is able to feel her feelings and see her thoughts so easily.

It feels weird, seeing her. He always thought that if he ever met his birth mom, he’d want to talk to her right away. But he doesn’t have any urge to chase her down the driveway and introduce himself.

He’s just so afraid. It’s hard to understand, because closed adoption or not, he thinks she’d want to talk to him. In his visions, she’s usually calling for him—not his name, but a name he somehow knows is supposed to be him. So he thinks she wants to see him. She seems to want it very badly, at least sometimes.

But what if when she looks at him, it’s with the same huge sadness she’s feeling about this man inside the house? What if it isn’t what he imagines, meeting this woman? He doesn’t want all that right now. He can’t handle it.

Besides, he’s not supposed to see her. That isn’t why he came. She wasn’t the name he was given.

He doesn’t recognize the man inside, the man she fought with a few minutes ago. When he reaches out to poke his shine into this man’s mind, it’s like a forest at night: it’s dark, disorienting, full of paths that lead unknown directions. He sees a few things he understands: the woman’s face, their conversation just now, the man’s devotion to her, his anxieties. But he sees lots he doesn’t understand, too. The man is very complicated. And broken, Jackson thinks. He has cracks that make his thoughts difficult to follow.

He knows the man’s name. Fox Mulder. He wishes he knew more about who he was, exactly.

Because that’s the man he’s supposed to see.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp

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