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crappymixtape · 2 days

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because of you • part four

PART ONE • PART TWO • PART THREE • PART FIVE // REQUEST -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+ | ( 5.6k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T F O U R 🎶 the elevator, lizzy mcalpine

“Alright. We’re gonna take care of things at the Creel house and your job is take care of things here,” Steve leveled with Eddie, thinking he was out of earshot for everyone else, but you heard it. Knew what he really meant.

Take care of things.

Fight monsters.

Try not to die.

You’d dropped Lucas, Max and Erica off, drove halfway across town to Eddie’s, dumped all your weapons through the gaping hole in the ceiling and threw yourselves in after them. Had outfitted the exterior of the trailer with metal fencing and cages, ladders and locks, hoping – no – praying it would hold and begged the universe to let everyone come out the other side of this.

“Robs, you and Nance are with me.”

Steve pulled taut the belt around his waist and clicked his flashlight on, looking for once like he actually knew what he was doing, and for a split second you thought maybe this just might work. Thought if Steve was that confident, if Nancy was willing to go with him, then maybe it would be alright.

But then it came time for you all to split in half again and you walked with Steve and Nancy and Robin to the front door and out into the ash choked air. Half-hid behind Eddie as they double checked their gear and started to walk away, but Steve stopped at the last second and turned back around.

“Listen. If things here start to go south, I mean at all, you abort. Okay?” he said brows tugged together with conviction, the weight of his words causing you to start trembling. “You draw the attention of the bats, keep ‘em busy for a minute or two, and we’ll take care of Vecna.”

And as you looked at the axe slung over Steve’s shoulder, the shotgun held tight in Nancy’s grasp, heard your molotov cocktails clinking together in Robin’s backpack you realized you didn’t want them to leave because what if they didn’t come back?

“And don’t try to be cute or–or be a hero or something. You’re just–”

“Decoys. Don’t worry. You can be the hero, Steve,” Dustin said rolling his eyes, unable even now to let go of the consistent needling that happened between him and Steve, but you could read between the lines.

I care about you.

Don’t get hurt.

Please be safe.

“Absolutely. Agreed. I mean look at us…we are not heroes,” Eddie admitted shaking his head, his nail covered garbage can lid swung over his shoulder and hair tied back out of his face. Trying so hard to just do his part in all this and after Steve nodded his acknowledgement, he looked at you.

Held your gaze for a minute. Parted his lips with words held heavy on his tongue, but unsure if he should say them. Knowing if he set them free, they would make the stakes unbearable and instead gave you a small nod.

A slight smile.

An attempt at quiet reassurance and as he turned to leave you felt a tangled knot of worry start to swirl at the pit of your stomach and the further he walked away the more knotted it became. Snatched up with it regret, possibility, second and third chances and trying to start over until the sound of someone’s voice shouting into the dark broke your concentration.

Your voice.

“Steve! Wait!”

He had never turned around so quickly, the sound of your voice stopping him dead in his tracks and he waited. For you. Waited as your boots crunched in the dead sticks and leaves on the ground, cracking and snapping with each step until you reached him, breathless and unsure of what you wanted to say but insistent on saying something.

“Everything okay?” he asked, trying to be casual. Unattached. Felt Robin and Nancy’s eyes on you both, but shot them a look and they gave you some space.

“Yeah–I mean, no? I just–we’re about to get swarmed by bats from hell and I...well, I guess what I wanted to say is–” you tripped over your words, felt clumsy and stupid, but desperate. Wanted him to know you wanted to work on things. Wanted to give him another chance, but it just wouldn’t come out and his expression softened as he realized what you were getting at.

“Slow down,” he murmured and you drew in a breath.

In.

Out.

Try again.

“I just want you to know that...I wanna try,” you said, still a bit clumsy, one word falling out after the other. “I wanna work on–on forgiveness or…shit. I don’t know,” you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it would help you gather up your thoughts and Steve waited. Patient. “Just come back, okay?” you finally asked, opening your eyes to see his mouth tugged up at the corner in a lopsided smile.

“You want me to come back, Princess?” he asked wryly and you scowled.

“I’m gonna let that one go cos ‘end of the world’ and whatever,” you snarked and it made him laugh. A low rumble in his chest that filled you up to the brim and spilled over at the edges.

“Gee thanks.”

“Yeah, you owe me now,” you teased.

“Alright, deal. Promise I’ll get you back when this is all over.”

When this is all over.

“I’m gonna hold you to it,” you said, your voice wobbling a little despite your efforts to keep it even and the sound put an ache in Steve’s chest. Pulled his hand to your cheek. His fingers gently tucking your unruly curls behind your ear.

“Wouldn’t expect any less,” he said quietly, only to you, and then took a couple steps back. Put space between you quickly to try and make it easier, but it stung. The sudden realization that your want for reconciliation was mutual and having to watch it walk away with the possibility of not returning.

The possibility of death.

“Good luck,” you whispered, your throat closing around the sob that had lodged itself in your chest, and watched as Steve disappeared into the dark.

❝ JUST ANOTHER TIME THAT I GO DOWN, BUT YOU ARE KEEPING UP, HOLDING TO A HOPE YOU’LL UNDERMINE ❞

“Eddie, Eddie! It’s working!” Dustin yelled after Eddie helped you back into the trailer.

“Shit–” Eddie handed you his nail covered garbage can lid and grabbed hold of your shoulder. “Listen to me. You leave this trailer no matter what, you hear me? Doesn’t matter if I’m yelling at you for help or–or covered in these fucking bats, you leave.“

“Wha–”

“No. It’s not a discussion.”

“Eddie, I’m not leaving–”

“Yes. You are, sweetheart.”

The ache in your chest swelled unbearably, painfully, tight and squeezing around the possibility that your best friend might not come back through that gate with you and the tears came. Hot against your cheeks as they cut paths down to your jawline.

Swiping his thumb gently across the line of your lashes Eddie gave you a sad smile.

“It’s not the plan, honey, but just in case. Now take this and get inside.”

All you could do was shake your head as Eddie popped back out of the trailer, shouting at Dustin to hurry the hell up, and as you walked back to the angry, gaping hole in the ceiling you could hear scratching on the roof.

“Eddie!” you yelled through your tears.

“I know, I know!” he called back.

“Eddie, they’re on the–”

“The roof! I know! Dammit, Henderson, get the hell in here!” yanking the younger boy into the trailer, Eddie slammed the front door shut and barricaded you in. “Fuck!” he shouted into the door, “I hope this works.”

“It’ll work, it has to work,” Dustin muttered, eyes glued to the air vent above you.

“It has to,” you echoed, quieter and under your breath as an image of Steve wielding his axe in front of Vecna flashed in your mind.

The squeals and shrieks in the air vent were getting louder and louder, scratching closer and closer and the ache in your chest twisted into something uglier, dread, fear.

“Eddie…” Dustin looked over his shoulder, “Eddie can they get through that?”

“Uh–I don’t think so–”

SCREEEEEEECH!

The vent burst open as a demobat clawed it’s way through the plastic cover, it’s long, sharp talons cutting deep gashes in the ceiling.

“FUCK! FUCK!”

“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!”

Eddie and Dustin were on it before it could get all the way in, jamming their spears into the hole, Die, die, die!! until Eddie slammed one of the garbage can lids over the top of it and sealed it shut, heaving holy shit, holy shit from his lungs.

“Nice,” Dustin gasped from the floor.

“Thanks.”

You didn’t realize you were watching everything through your fingers, face buried in your hands, until Eddie glanced up and saw you.

“Oh, god. You okay? You’re okay. It’s okay,” he closed the distance between you and wrapped his arms around you. “It’s okay, they can’t get in now. It’s okay.”

“Eddie…” Dustin was still on the floor, eyes looking down the hallway to Eddie’s bedroom. “Are there any more vents?”

Eddie tensed against you and froze for a second and then let you go in an instant, “Oh shit.”

“What? Eddie, what??” you shouted as he turned and ran down the hallway, Dustin on his heels, both of them just yelling shit so much now that it didn’t even sound like a word anymore.

“There’s a vent in my roo–”

As Eddie yanked open the door to his room the hissing slap of wings against wood paneling almost drowned out the shrieks that followed.

“That’s not gonna hold!” Dustin screamed.

Eddie shoved you back down the hallway, “Let’s go, let’s go!”

“But the others–”

“We don’t have time!” Eddie shoved at you and Dustin, the younger boy already halfway up the knotted bedsheet hanging out of the ceiling as Eddie snatched up the spare garbage can lid.

“C’mon!” Dustin yelled from the other side.

Grabbing Eddie by the jacket you shook him, “They need more time!”

He met your gaze and sobered, chest heaving as he gasped for air and realized what you were implying.

“They need more time,” you said again, quieter, throat tight around your words as Eddie looked up at Dustin through the gate.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered harshly, squeezing his eyes shut against he knew you needed to do. “Dammit, I’m sorry,” he said looking back up at Dustin.

“What? What d’you mean sorry?? Eddie what d’you mean sorry?? What are you doing? What are you–”

Grabbing a spear, Eddie sliced the bedsheet in half and you watched as the other end fell to the floor in a pile at your feet.

That was going to make getting back just a tad more difficult.

“EDDIE! EDDIE, NO! STOP!” Dustin was screaming now, strained and painful and you couldn’t bear to look at him.

“C’mon,” Eddie grabbed your arm and pulled you with him back to the door.

Steve’s bat was heavy in your hands, your fingers readjusting their grip in anticipation of putting your training session back at the meadow to good use.

…wide stance right?…choke up on your hold…it’ll make your swings hit harder…follow through with your hip.

Sucking in a breath you could hear Dustin still screaming at you from the other side.

“Come back!! Don’t do this! Please, don’t do this!”

And your body went numb as Eddie put a hand on the doorknob, “This is for Stevie. For Nance. For Robin and Max and everyone. And we come back alive, okay?” Eddie said to you, brown eyes soft like brown sugar, crinkled at the edges as he tried to smile and you tried to give him one back.

“Okay. Together,” you said.

“Together,” he echoed and then yanked the door open to a swarm of bats from hell all screeching and clamoring to get their hooks into you.

The bat in your hands hit hard against the body of the demobat flying above you with a sickening crunch. Caught it mid-air as you swung it down into the ground and twisted it, shouldered down and killed it with another pop! but you were far from finished.

Pushing loose hair out of your eyes you glanced up to see Eddie wrestling with his own hoard of nasties that the Upside Down had coughed up.

THWACK!

You swung again in a half circle, taking two demobats down with one swing and a grin flickered at the corners of your lips. Steve would be proud.

“Just a little longer, sweetheart!” Eddie shouted over the slap of desiccated wings and sharp, gnashing teeth.

A little longer, you told yourself, swinging the bat again and again, Eddie keeping up with his spear and shield.

Pulling back, you swung heavy at a particularly nasty looking demobat, a sneer on your lips doing as Steve instructed and following with your hips, but it didn’t connect and you stumbled forward, scraping your hands on the ground.

Fuck, was your immediate first thought, your bat clattering a few feet away with the impact, and again, fuck, when claws sliced through the heavy canvas of your tactical vest and into your back.

The cuts burned, hot and angry, the fabric against your back growing damp with blood, but you couldn’t stop. You had to get Steve’s bat. It was just out of reach as you scrambled against the dirt, fingers fumbling on the handle until something slipped through your hair at the back of your neck. Gritty like sandpaper, slithering as it crept around your throat and wrapping around and around and your eyes grew wide when it squeezed.

“Eddie!” you croaked, hands scrambling against the demobat tail tightening at your neck, cutting off your air supply.

“Wha–shit! Hang on, sweetheart! Hang on!”

The look on Eddie’s face scared you, like maybe you were going to die and god you didn’t want to die, and then the demobat yanked at you and everything went sideways as you hit the dirt, back first. The cuts there screamed and your head thunked hard enough against the ground you saw stars. Then, as if to add insult to injury, the demobat tightened its hold so that now and truly you could not breathe.

Your fingers scrambled against the flesh of the monster, struggling to loosen its grip, but it felt impossible. It was too tight.

Little pinpricks of light appeared against your vision as you watched red cracks of lighting split the sky in two. You couldn’t remember what it was like to take a breath. How long had it been? Thirty seconds? A minute? Longer? Where was Eddie?

A fuzzy feeling crept around you, warm and wrapping around your body as a shadowy haze blurred in at the edges of your vision. Closing in further and further and melting your pain along with it. You couldn’t feel the scrapes across your back, the cuts on your knees, the burning in your throat.

Were you going to die?

But what about Steve? You promised. He promised.

I’ll get you back when this is all over.

You needed to tell him how much you wanted to try. Wanted to hear him out. Wanted to see the real Steve, the one Eddie trusted so much, the one you were starting to feel like might actually prove you wrong, but you weren’t breathing. Hadn’t been breathing and you were dying and–

“God dammit–die, asshole!”

Suddenly the tail loosened at your neck and your body heaved you from the ground, writhing at the ability to breathe again. Gasping and gulping and pulling in ash-thick air, your hands pressed to your throat to make double damn sure it was really gone.

“Christ–” A hand, wide and warm was at the small of your back and the voice in your ear made you feel like you couldn’t breathe again.

Steve.

“Told you I’d come back, princess. You alright?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but it wouldn’t go away and your fingers smoothed over the angry, swollen skin.

“Look, twins,” Steve tried to joke, tugging his shirt down so you could see the same marks on his neck and it pulled a hoarse laugh from your lips, but it hurt. “*Shit–*I’m sorry, don’t talk. C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

You wanted to stop for a second and look at him, the moles dotted on his cheek and neck, the dip of his cupid’s bow, the cut on his cheek and wipe the dirt from his forehead and just–

“We gotta go!” Robin yelled from the trailer and Steve scooped his hands under your arms and pulled you to your feet.

Nancy was with Robin back over at the trailer door yelling something about not jumping through gates like that anymore – Dustin? But didn’t he…and then your stomach lurched.

“Eddie?” you croaked, fingers digging into Steve’s waist, “Where’s Eddie?”

“Shh, don’t talk. He’s okay, he’s already in the trailer.”

“Where–”

Steve stopped for a split second and looked down at you, brows pinched together, his eyes dark, worried, “I’ll explain everything, but we need to leave.”

You nodded and he picked up the pace again dragging you both into the trailer and, as Robin says, by some miracle you all piled through and came out the other side.

❝ I FEEL IT COMING ON, YOU CAN BE WELL AWARE, IF I EVER TRY TO PUSH AWAY YOU CAN JUST KEEP ME ❞

When you all stumbled out of Eddie’s trailer into Hawkins it felt like nothing had changed – it still looked like the Upside Down.

Ash fell from the sky, dark clouds hung heavy overhead and smoke rolled up from downtown as you struggled to process what had happened. They’d killed Vecna, or at least blasted his ass out the window and onto the ground below, but when they went to check he was gone and that was when the clock chimed. Four chimes, four deaths.

Everyone was worried about Max, but everyone was also in various states of injury, so you all decided to split up. Nancy and Robin took Lucas, Max and Dustin to the hospital and after you’d suffocated Eddie with hugs he said he wanted to hang back and look for Wayne. Part of you wanted him to stay, but Wayne was the only family he had so you understood. With Vecna ‘gone’ there were no real pressing threats – for now.

So, all that was left was you and Steve.

“Let me give you a ride?” he asked, dirt flecked across his cheeks and forehead, bottom lip split.

“I can’t go home like this,” your voice had made a return, but it was hoarse, sounded rough like gravel and every time you spoke Steve winced.

“Oh, right. Okay, yeah–uh–we can go to my place. My parents are out of town on business, so no one’s there. Get cleaned up and then I can take you home.”

Piling into Steve’s BMW you could feel the adrenaline starting to melt away. The pain that your body had held at bay starting to push against your skin, your very bones, a deep ache that threatened to break you and you fought it as hard as you could.

“Thank you,” you half-whispered into the quiet of the car and Steve’s fingers twitched on the gear shift.

“For…?”

You looked across the center console at him, “For saving me.”

That pulled his attention and he met your gaze and for a split second everything felt suspended, held in mid-air, floating in the space between you and Steve’s lips parted. Trying to find the words.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly, still looking at you, then he flicked his eyes back to the road. “I know you said I owe you, but…I really do. I–I couldn’t stop thinking about you after we left the trailer. How fucked up everything was and how I didn’t get to say everything I wanted.”

You watched his profile, the strong line of his jaw, the way it ticked when he clenched his teeth and fought back the lump in his throat.

“I owe you a lot more. A lot more.”

“Steve–”

“No, I mean it,” throwing the BMW into park he turned to look at you again. "You've made me feel...so many things I didn't think were possible anymore and–god–I thought about losing you and I just..."

"I did too," you admitted to the dark and it pulled his gaze.

"You did?"

"Yeah, Steve. I think I–ouch," a sharp pain punched in you leg and you doubled over from the force of it.

“Wait. Are you hurt?”

You sucked in a breath and tried to sit back up, tried to play it off. "Yeah, I mean, aren’t we all?”

“No...your back," Steve ghosted a hand over the back of your vest and pulled his hand away damp with blood.

“I–the demobat–” stuttering over your words Steve didn’t let you finish and stumbled out of the car and around to your side to get you into the the house.

The Harrington’s place was out of a stupid catalogue. All the art, the vases, the plants and furniture – it all looked staged, not lived in. If you hadn’t felt like you wanted to throw up you would’ve lingered a bit longer in the entry, but Steve was pulling you up the stairs and you were too weak to fight it.

“Shower’s in here,” he said, opening the door to his parent’s room.

Exquisite sky lights cut large rectangles into the ceiling and washed the room in the dim, cool light of the moon above. A clearing in the smoke. Somehow his house hadn’t been swallowed up by the gashes in the earth. A large sleigh bed sat against the wall, a large painting of a garden hanging above it and two matching nightstands with lamps perched on either side. Nice, but cold. Not lived in.

Too busy looking around, Steve came back out of the master bath and called your name, but when you didn’t look he took the few steps to stand right in front of you.

Warm. Safe. Steve.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Sorry, uh–yeah, I'm okay.”

He looked at you, skeptical, but needed to gather more supplies and so didn’t push you on it.

“Alright, princess. I got the shower going in there, but don’t move too quick. Take it slow, one step at a time and I’ll be back with a towel and some bandaids.”

“Okay–”

“Seriously,” he said, “I mean it. Slow.”

“I will,” you insisted, a smile twitching at the corners of your lips and he gave you a little grin.

“Okay. Be right back.”

Even if he hadn’t asked you, you couldn’t go faster than one foot in front of the other. The pain was almost unbearable now, screaming all over your body and you didn’t know if you could handle a shower, but it wasn’t an option. Infection would finish off what the demobats couldn’t, and so, layer by layer, you pulled your clothes from your body.

Your jeans, your vest, your shirt, your socks, your shoes. All of it a muddied brown and red pile on the floor leaving you in your bra and underwear. Your back was burning, felt like fire and when you stepped into the shower expecting more pain, you found peace.

Carefully shuffling on the tile floor, the steam billowing up from the shower floor felt like it was swallowing you whole. Filled the air around you and made everything hazy. Made it feel otherworldly, like heaven, and as you stared you watched the water falling down your body turn rusty. Mixing with the dirt and ash and blood from your skin and carrying it down the drain. Washing away any remaining proof that interdimensional monsters are real and that you’d nearly died killing them. The only things left hinting at what had been life or death, would be all the little silvery scars after your wounds healed.

You turned the heat up and as more steam clouded the stall, you felt a warmth wrap itself around you. One that felt deeper than the hot water. Like a heavy cloak draping over you and you wanted to let it swallow you whole. Wanted to nestle into it and succumb to the deep, soft feeling it was pouring into you and your vision started to blur at the edges.

“Oh–” you half-gasped. Stumbled as the world swam in front of you. Pressed a hand heavy against the wall to steady yourself and your fingers slipped against the tile.

“Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

Suddenly someone was opening the shower, sucking out the steam, and a shock of cold air hit you as Steve filled the door frame.

“Shit, hang on–” he swore softly and stepped in with you still wearing his jeans and ripped up shirt. Water soaking him from head to toe, he gently looped an arm around your waist and held you steady. “I got you, I got you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, and it pulled your gaze up.

Water clinging to your lashes, your lids were heavy as you blinked and when he finally came into focus it made your heart ache. A deep pinch between his brows, eyes searching yours and trying to work out what he needed to do to fix you. What he needed to do to keep you here.

God, he wanted to keep you.

“I’m fine,” you insisted weakly, pushing against him as your lips tried to twist into a scowl and it pulled a huff of a laugh from him.

“No, you’re not,” his tone was firm, but gentle. The rough pads of his fingers pressing into your side as he eased you onto the seat at the corner of the stall. Made doubly sure you weren’t going to fall and half-stepped back out onto the bathmat.

Shrugging off his shirt, he pulled it over his head and tossed it into the tub. Kicked off his wet Levis and left them in a pile on the floor. Grabbed a washcloth from the towel rack and stepped back in with you and closed the door behind him.

Kneeling, Steve sank down through the steam, putting himself at your height for once. Water running hot and soothing both of your aching bodies as he wetted the wash cloth. Then, pushing up on one knee, he started to gently scrub the dried blood from your forehead. Rinsed the cloth out and moved to your hand. Looked it over for any obvious wounds and softly cleaned the dirt from your palm. Then, satisfied with what he found under all the grime, he turned to your other hand. Moved up your arms and paid close attention to the cut on your right shoulder. Winced and snuck a glance at you when you sucked in a pained gasp through gritted teeth.

“Sorry,” he said and when he looked up at you it was a thousand sorry’s, so fucking sorry, and it made your chest ache. “Let me look at your back,” he said, standing to see the three nasty cuts across your skin there and he huffed a sigh. “These could be worse,” he assessed, shaking his head, “I’ll look in the light when you’re out.”

He bent back down and knelt in front of you again, water splashing against his back as he took your hand in his. He started up again at your feet. Skipped over the bruises on your shins and the angry-looking scrape on your left knee and as he gently shifted you to reach your upper leg, the water running off your body turned bright red.

“Oh shit..." he breathed, a deep frown pulling at his features as his eyes frantically searched for the source, worry tugging at the pit of his stomach. It couldn’t have been your back…where was it coming from?

And then he finally saw it. The nasty gash on your thigh courtesy of the same damn demobat as it dragged its claw down through your skin. “Christ,” he hissed under his breath, moving to let the water run over it, “We gotta clean this–”

“Fuck, Steve–” you choked out, the pain in your leg white hot as you pressed a hand heavy into his before he could use the washcloth. “It hurts,” you half-sobbed and he quickly blocked the shower with his back again.

“Shit–I’m sorry–dammit–” a string of curses fell from his lips as he leaned closer to get a better look.

The few seconds of water had done a good job of cleaning it up, but he could see now how deep it was. Probably needed stitches, just like his stomach would, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a minute.

It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll be okay.

Pulling in a deep breath he went to the place in his mind he knew all too well. The one where he closed out the sick feeling of worry blooming in his chest, the thoughts of 'what if' that didn't end nicely and hardened against it all so that he could do what he needed to keep you safe.

“Alright, princess,” he reached over his shoulder and turned off the tap, then looked back up at you, still on his knees. “I gotta get you out and dried off, okay? Get this fixed up,” he said, nodding at your leg, “Will you let me do that?”

A soft scowl pulled at your features and it almost made him smile – how pretty you were even when you were mad. Even like this.

“I don’t think you’re gonna give me a choice,” you tried to snark around the sob in your throat and that finally cracked a tiny grin on his face.

“I’m not,” he gently agreed and with that you let him lift you from the seat. Let his hands, warm and wide at your waist, guide you from the shower and wrap a towel around your tired body.

Setting you at the edge of the sleigh bed, Steve dug around in the box of medical supplies he’d slowly put together during his time with the Upside Down. Bandages, rubbing alcohol, peroxide, antibiotic ointment, wraps, gauze–

“Steve,” you whispered and it pulled his gaze.

“What is it? Are you okay? Are you dizzy?”

You gave him a weak smile, “I promise I’m fine.” He nodded, not wholly believing you. “What is that for?” you asked, pointing at a needle and thread and his expression shifted.

“For cuts,” was all he could manage and it made your stomach lurch.

“Like mine?”

He chewed on his lower lip, fingers twisting the thread dipping through the eye of the needle. “Like yours,” he agreed quietly and you squeezed your eyes shut.

No. No, no, no. Not here. Not Steve.

“Hey, hey,” Steve pressed his hand into yours, warm and safe, “I promise it’s gonna be okay. Look, I’ve got my own shit I need to do too.” He moved his arm aside to show you the cut along his stomach from the lake gate. “See? Right?”

You were crying, but it was too quiet to really know and when Steve saw your tears silently slipping down your cheek he caught them with the pad of his thumb.

“I know how scary this is,” he finally said, voice a low vibration you could feel in your chest, reassuring and true, “But I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. I swear.”

And the way he was looking at you was something you’d never seen from him before. Features pulled in pain, agony, but not from his wounds. Searching for something in your eyes he wasn’t sure of, but knew he’d find if he looked long enough and you lifted your hand to his over your cheek.

“Okay,” came out cracked, wobbly, crying, and he gave you the tiniest smile.

You watched as he pulled through a new line of thread, knotted the end and dipped the needle in rubbing alcohol and a wave of nausea crashed over you.

“Here,” Steve caught the look on your face, the way you were shaking, “Lie on your back and hold this to your face. Scream into it if you have to, okay? I’m going to go as fast as I can.”

He handed you a pillow and thank god because you were sure if you’d had to watch, you were going to pass out.

Doing as he asked, you laid back on the bed with the pillow pressed to your face, still only wearing your underwear and bra, and a thought struck you – if this had been literally any other time, what would Steve had said? Would he tell you how beautiful you looked? How he liked the lace trim across your bra straps? How he wanted to trace his finger along the hem of your panties? How–

“Oh, fuck–” slipped out of your mouth, muffled against the pillow, but you didn’t get a chance to finish because everything went black.

“Hey, hey! Oh, shit. Dammit. Princess? Are you with me?” Steve had just finished the first stitch when you suddenly went limp on the bed.

Quickly leaning up he put his ear to your chest for a heartbeat and heard a steady thum, thum, thum. Happy with that he sat back up and took even more solace in the even breaths falling from your lips.

“Sorry,” he whispered to you, “I didn’t do well with it the first time either.”

Then, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead he finished stitching up your leg. Cleaned up your back and applied a few bandages there where needed. It’d looked worse than it actually was, thank god. He pulled back the covers and lifted you up to the head of the bed and tucked you in, checking your breathing again to make damn sure.

He made quick work of stitching up his stomach. Pausing only a couple of times to swallow down his own nausea, and when he was done, he changed into a Hawkins Athletics shirt and shorts and crawled in next to you.

Despite the world on fire outside his window and despite the fact they couldn't find a body for Vecna, it was all okay for right now. In that moment. With you there in that room, hidden in the indigo shadows as he clicked off the light, promising he'd finish saying what he'd started in the car. And soon enough exhaustion claimed Steve too, pulling him into the same deep, dreamless sleep that you'd thankfully found.

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART FOUR OF A FIVE – POSSIBLY MORE – PART SERIES, PART FIVE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

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1-800-imagines · 2 days

Text

the party. part 2 |r.c.|

series masterlist

after talking about it with sarah the two of you had decided that just you would be going to the party. sarah didn’t want to add any more drama especially since it was at topper's house.

sarah was reluctant to just let you lose on the party without her for backup but you had reassured her that you would text her if you needed anything.

sarah wasn’t going to completely ditch you. she was going with you to your house to help you get ready. then she would most likely be going to be with john b but still accessible if they needed to come wreck havoc at the party.

you had asked sarah multiple times if she thought rafe actually meant it about taking you alone to which sarah had said, “yes. he likes you more than he likes me.” she was currently doing your hair. then she added, “he always asks about you, especially once you started dating that dick bag and didn’t come over as much.” she paused for a moment and said, “honestly surprised rafe hasn’t literally killed him.”

you didn’t know how to react to what sarah had just said. she went into your closet to pick something out for you to wear so you took that moment to text rafe and make sure he was okay with just you going. he hadn’t been back at sarah’s when you made the decision. so, you texted rafe to tell him and make extra sure he meant it and said ‘hey, just me tonight. that still ok?’

he had texted you back in minutes saying, ‘course it is kiddo. i’ll pick you up around 9.’

your heart did a small backflip and sarah walked back in the room, holding up a variety of outfits. you shook your head a little and smiled at her, “you’re really putting a lot of thought into this sare.”

“duh, we gotta make you look hotter than you usually look to make that douche realized how bad he fucked up.” she quipped, grabbing your hand and pulling you to a stand so you could try on the different outfits.

——

after what seemed to be forever, sarah had finally chosen the ‘perfect outfit’ according to her.

it was a light pink mini dress that had a v neck. “don’t you think this is a little much? i mean it’s just topper's house.”

“no it’s perfect. you look smokin.” sarah said smiling. “now, do you want me to wait till rafe gets here? to make sure he shows up? coz if he doesn’t, i’ll take you. ”

you shook your head, “nah it’s okay. i’ll let you know when i get to the party.” you had to admit you did have a small amount of doubt that rafe would change his mind and not want to bring you after all.

but sure enough, at 8:50, he had texted you that he was on his way.

but at 8:55, your doorbell rang and a minute later your mom called out to you, “sweetie! rafe is here to pick you up.”

your eyebrows furrowed together as you walked down the stairs, unsure why rafe was at your front door, much less talking to your mom.

“don’t worry miss y/l/n, i’ll make sure she gets home safe.” you heard rafe say.

you bit down on your lip to keep from smiling. you finally stepped up to the door and you felt rafe’s eyes rake down your body.

you blushed and looked at your mom to hide it. she smiled at you, “have fun. be safe.” she kissed your cheek and you walked out the door. “bye rafe honey.” your mom added as the two of you walked towards his truck.

rafe got to the passenger side and started to open the door for you. you thanked him and got in.

when he got in the drivers seat, he paused before starting the truck, and turned towards you, “you look really great kid.”

you blushed again, “thanks.“ your eyes looked out the window, not wanting to look directly at him.

he obviously saw this and patted your thigh then giving it a little squeeze. this shot electricity through your entire body.

you did turn back towards him, without looking at him, but you could just tell he was smirking.

after an agonizingly long car ride (less than 10 minutes), you had made it to toppers house.

when rafe got out of the truck, you took a second to text sarah that you had made it. he walked around to your side and opened the car door for you. he also put out his hand to help you hop down. when you were standing, he turned towards you and gently lifted your chin up, “how do you wanna play this?”

you gave him a puzzled look, “what do you mean?”

“well. we could be here as friends or we could be here on a date. or i could get topper to hit on you. any of the above.”

you contemplated before saying, “i think he’d be the most pissed if it was us on a date.”

“gotcha sweetheart. tell me if it’s too much and i’ll back off.” he said, closing the car door and putting his arm around you to walk inside.

----

comment to be tagged for part 3!!

#rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron imagine #obx rafe cameron #outerbanks #outer banks imagine #obx #obx fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks fanfiction

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aidenlydia · 3 days

Note

was just wondering how you chose if/when Riley wears his mask. Most of your pieces have the mask lifted off only his mouth but some have it dully on or fully off. I was wondering if there was a specific reason for that or just what you think looks good?

It's a mix of reasons.

The first is pretty simple: I like drawing expressions, faces and most importantly, intimacy. That's why my Ghost rarely ever wears glasses and usually has his mask lifted. It not only shows his vulnerability with MacTavish, but also allows them to kiss, have direct eye contact and be skin to skin. Speaking of, painting realistic skin is very satisfying to me and covering it up with cloth kills me a little. Same with drawing ears, I sacrificed so many good ears in favor of that mask..

Second, I get bored easily. Drawing the same mask/glasses/headset/jacket combo over and over again without any human features burns me out. I knew immediately I needed a face design and different outfits for Ghost, despite really loving his whole look and actually preferring him all covered up. Unfortunately that just isn't in the cards for me, so I switch between fully masked, half masked, bare faced and medical mask to keep him fresh and interesting for myself. Even his body type changes, he goes from twink to more sturdy builds depending on how bored I am with it.

(MacTavish is less of a problem but I do switch it up by changing his clothes, having him be shirtless or fluctuate his muscle mass.)

To put it into a bit more perspective: my art process is jumping between countless WIPs in various stages of completion and artstyles until something happens to get finished eventually - my SoapGhost WIP folder alone is currently at 339 pieces - and if a painting takes me longer than a day to complete, chances are I'll drop it and pick it back up again in anywhere between a week or a year (it's a miracle I get anything done at all).

So I'll do whatever it takes to actually help me continue drawing and manage my constant burnout. Being chronically ill and creative is the worst combo, I think about completely quitting art every other day :')

And third, well. Sometimes it really is simply about which one looks better.

#snail in my ear telling me to quit art #it's the perfect multitasking hobby though #can't read and watch youtube at the same time now can you #that's what I thought #simon ghost riley #09 ghost #09 soapghost

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television-overload · 8 hours

Text

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 26/34 - madeline

[Read on AO3]

Feeding the baby is slow going, but Mulder thinks they ought to cut her a little slack. It is her first day, after all. Eventually, she takes a longer pause and yawns, her tiny mouth opening wide and showing off her gums.

“That’s a big yawn for such a small person,” Mulder says, watching as Scully sets the bottle aside, lifting Madeline to her shoulder to pat her on the back. It isn’t long before she successfully expels a burp, drawing a chuckle out of Mulder. She’s so good with her already. He can’t wait to see his partner grow and change as a mother. Which reminds him: Mother’s Day is coming up. He’ll have to do something to celebrate.

“It really happened,” Scully says, marveling once more at their situation.

“It did,” he says, then thinks. “Should we tell your mom now?”

She laughs, nodding her head in agreement. Yeah, it’s probably safe to share the news now, isn’t it? “She’s gonna be beside herself.”

“She’s not gonna speak to us for months, for keeping this from her,” Mulder says, the joke an attempt to alleviate the tinge of genuine worry he has.

“I don’t know, I think we’ve got a pretty good Get-out-of-Jail-Free card here,” Scully says, looking down at the baby and bouncing her gently. “She won’t be able to stay away from her first granddaughter.”

Just then, Mulder gets a whiff of something not so pleasant, and he chuckles nervously. “Phew, are you sure? Cause this little stinker certainly knows how to clear a room.”

Scully gives him a thinly-veiled look of amusement, but he can tell she’s put off by the smell too, even with her strong forensic pathologist’s stomach. This will take some getting used to.

“Well, I got to be the one to give her her first bottle,” she says. “You want to do the first diaper change?”

“Somehow, I don’t feel like that’s a fair trade,” Mulder says, laughing. Even so, he doesn’t hesitate to lift the baby from Scully’s arms and carry her over to the changing table, which is outfitted with all the supplies they could possibly need.

Scully stands by on the opposite side of the table for moral support, watching him with a funny smile on her face. It takes a second for him to find his rhythm—a real live baby with flailing legs is a bit different than an inanimate baby doll, after all—but he vows that in no time, he’ll be a pro.

“There we go,” he says, tossing the dirty diaper into the trash can from a distance. “A 3-pointer! And the crowd goes wild!”

Scully rolls her eyes, lifting the baby back into her arms and burying her nose in Madeline’s hair.

“How’d I do?” Mulder asks.

Scully smiles up at him from beneath her thick lashes. “Fresh as a daisy,” she says. “I should probably try to get her to sleep. Are you going to call your mom?”

“Yeah,” Mulder says, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, I’ll call her later tonight. She usually plays bridge with some friends Tuesday afternoons. At least, I think she still does.” In truth, he hadn’t talked to her much since her release from the hospital, a fact that he really needs to remedy.

Scully nods.

“Well, could you get my mom on the phone and let her know to come? I’m going to get Maddie cleaned up a little before we have visitors.”

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea, Scully,” he says. “When I call her from the hospital, it’s usually not good news.”

Scully gives him an encouraging look before laying the baby in her bassinet for a quick sponge bath. “Well, this is the perfect chance to change that up, don’t you think?”

She’s right, of course. He owes Margaret Scully an awful lot. Let this be the first step toward earning the kindness she has so freely bestowed so many times over the years.

He fishes his cell phone out of his pocket, pressing the buttons for speed dial 4. It only rings twice before it connects.

“Hello?” her voice projects.

“Hey, Mrs. Scully.”

“Fox? Is there something wrong?”

He sighs. He can almost see the pinched Scully look of concern on the elder woman’s face. That’s what he gets for constantly being the bearer of bad news, he supposes. He glances at his partner and then back at the boring pastel colored painting of a flower on the wall.

“Nothing’s wrong, Mrs. Scully,” he assures her. “Actually, it’s kind of the opposite.”

“I don’t understand—”

“How quickly can you get to the hospital in Annapolis?” he asks. “Bearing in mind that no one’s hurt, there’s been no disaster. For once, it’s good news.”

“The hospital?” she questions, still sounding worried despite his reassurances. “I can leave now, so maybe 45 minutes? You’re sure everything’s alright?”

“Promise,” he says. “Dana would have called you herself, but she’s… busy.”

“If you say so,” Maggie says doubtfully.

Gee, he wonders where Scully got her skepticism from.

“Room 509 when you get here,” he says into the phone, checking his watch for the time. “See you soon?”

He can hear the rustle of a jacket and car keys on the other end of the line. “Yes– yes, I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.”

-.-.-

“No, you must have misunderstood me,” Maggie says to the nurse leading the way through the hospital corridors, “I’m looking for Dana Scully in room 509. This is the maternity ward.”

“Yes, ma’am. Room 509.”

“But that can’t be right,” she says, her brows furrowing in confusion.

Maybe Dana is working a case that involves a pregnant woman that required her medical expertise. But why would Fox call her asking her to come?

“You can go on in,” the nurse says as they arrive outside the room.

Thoroughly confused and not knowing what to expect, she pushes open the door. On the far end of the room, Dana sits on a couch, her arm resting against a cart of some kind, while Fox stands, his back to the door, hunched over the same cart. He turns and a smile spreads across his face, and Dana quickly gets to her feet, looking equal parts excited and nervous.

“Mom!” she says.

“Dana? What’s going on?”

She’s not dressed in her doctor garb. She is, however, wearing her usual FBI clothing, though it looks a little rumpled. Her daughter is usually so prim and polished—to gain the respect of her male peers, she supposes—it’s unusual to see her looking anything less than professional on a work day.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” she says, walking quickly toward her with only a cursory glance back at Fox. “There was always a chance it wouldn’t work out, but…”

She runs out of words to say, opting instead to grab her mother’s arm and start tugging her to the other side of the room. The beaming smiles on their faces are unlike any Maggie had seen in quite some time.

As they get closer, Maggie sees that the cart she saw earlier is in fact a hospital bassinet, and inside lays a baby, wide awake and blinking as she holds tight to Fox’s finger.

“What– how–?” she begins, stuttering, her hand coming up to clutch her metaphorical pearls. “Dana, is that–?”

“Mom, I’d like you to meet your granddaughter,” Dana says, her voice shaking with emotion. Maggie looks up at her, then back at the baby. Tears pool in Dana’s eyes, and she supports her mother as they step up to the bassinet so she can get a good look.

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Dana!” she says, feeling her own eyes begin to water. “But, how? I was with you just a few weeks ago. And, is Fox–?”

“Mulder and I– Well, it’s a long story,” she starts. “Last year, I decided to try in vitro fertilization, and Mulder agreed to… help.”

Maggie looks up at that, and she doesn’t miss the blush as it spreads across the man’s cheeks. He ducks his head, trying to focus only on the baby.

“It didn’t work, which is why I didn’t tell you,” Dana continues. “I didn’t want to… get your hopes up.”

“Oh, Dana,” Maggie says, looking sad. She wishes her daughter would confide in her more. She stores things up for so long, that when it all finally comes out, it’s hard to be of any help. She has so many questions, and she’s not sure Dana will give her all the answers.

“I thought that was my last chance to be a mother. But then, a few months ago, Mulder said that—”

It clearly makes her emotional to think of, now, whatever her daughter’s partner had offered to do.

“He said that if I wanted to try adoption, he’d do it with me.”

Adoption.

“I can’t believe it,” Maggie says, in awe of the tiny baby, and of the man who had made all of it possible. Fox Mulder had changed her daughter’s life forever, and she doesn’t think there’s any way she could possibly repay him.

“I can’t believe it either,” Dana laughs, and she sees Fox nod his agreement. This is a crazy thing that they have done. She'd thought that something was up with the two of them lately, of course, but never in a million years would she have guessed this.

“Would you like to hold her, Mrs. Scully?” the man asks, gently lifting the baby out of her bassinet.

Overwhelmed and caught off guard by the sight of Fox Mulder holding a child, Maggie can only nod as she accepts the tiny bundle into the cradle of her arms. Tears spring to her eyes.

“Oh…” she sighs, unable to keep the tears at bay. “This is such a… a wonderful surprise. What’s her name?”

“Madeline Samantha Mulder,” Dana says proudly, glancing up at her partner in some form of unspoken communication.

That grabs her interest.

“Mulder?” she asks curiously. “So you’re…” She gestures between the two of them with her free hand, and catches the glint of a ring on Fox’s left ring finger. Her eyebrows raise.

“We decided we’d raise the baby together. To make the application simpler, we got married,” Dana answers.

Married?!

“When?” she asks, equal parts thrilled and furious that she’d been left out of these plans.

“Christmas Eve.”

“Christmas…” she whispers, thinking back to that day. “That’s why you two had to go rushing off? You were getting married?” she says, aghast.

“Mom—”

“Your entire family was in town, Dana, even Charlie! Don’t you think we would have liked to be there for you on your special day?”

“It isn’t like that,” Dana says, her frustration rising. “It was just a formality. We went to the courthouse. We needed the papers so that we’d be seen as a couple looking to adopt on our applications. Otherwise, we might have been rejected. And you know they’re not the most accepting of single mothers—”

Wait, wait, wait. Back up.

“I don’t understand,” she says, “You’re married but not… together?”

Fox and Dana look at each other, and Maggie knows the answer before they say it. Her stomach sinks.

“No,” Dana says, a little hint of disappointment in her voice. “Not really.”

Glancing between the two of them, Maggie detects disappointment from both sides, not that either of them can probably tell. They’re so blind to what the other is feeling, that it would be funny if it didn’t make Maggie so sad. All the things they’re missing out on, just because they’re both too stubborn to admit the truth.

It’s probably only a matter of time anyway, she decides, no use harping on about it for now. If another month goes by with no sign of progress, she'll say something. That's as far as she'll go.

“You two are ridiculous, you know that?” she says curtly, pressing her lips together. “Frustrating.”

“Now you sound like my mother,” Fox jokes, in that self-deprecating tone of voice she wishes he’d stop using.

Maggie sighs, glancing back down at the gurgling baby in her arms. She sure is awfully cute.

“You’re lucky you gave me a granddaughter for all this nonsense I have to put up with,” she says, though not unkindly. She can say this at least about Fox and Dana: this baby will know a kind of love few people in this world get to experience.

They just have to pull themselves together first.

-.-.-

Maddie falls asleep on Mulder’s chest sometime after Mrs. Scully starts talking about breaking the news to Scully’s brothers, and to be honest, he’s glad for the distraction. It does, however, mean he’s kind of trapped there when Scully decides to go ask a nurse about bringing up some lunch for them from the cafeteria, leaving him alone with her mother and the baby.

They sit in silence for a while, neither really knowing what to say. At a certain point, though, Mulder can’t take the quiet anymore.

“You think Scully’s crazy, don’t you,” he says, more of a statement than a question.

“I’m not sure I know what to think,” Maggie answers. “About Dana.”

Mulder winces. He’d have to stop doing that. “Sorry, habit.”

“Ever since she met you, her life has been upside down and backwards from what I always thought it would be,” she continues.

“I know.”

“I don’t blame you, Fox.” Maggie’s hand settles atop his on the armrest of the couch, almost weightless. “She’s happy with you, otherwise she wouldn’t have stayed this long. I may not know much about my daughter these days, but I do know that.”

“I’m happier with her than I have ever been,” he admits. “And now—” he looks down at Madeline. “I didn’t know this much happiness existed.”

Maggie smiles, a little sadly. He’s used to people looking at him like that, the poor kid with the tragic backstory. He just wishes she wouldn’t.

The room falls silent again. A funny look comes over her face, and he gets the sense that she's holding something back.

“And, where will you live?” she asks, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

“We’re going to be looking for a house,” he answers, “but for now I’ve been sleeping in… Dana’s spare bedroom.”

Maggie purses her lips. “No nursery?”

“Not yet,” he says, shaking his head. “We figure she’ll sleep just fine in a bassinet for the first few months.”

“And that will be in Dana’s room?”

“I suppose so.”

“So, will you be helping when she wakes up needing to be fed or changed in the middle of the night?”

What is this, some high-stakes interview for a job? He really hadn’t been prepared for this.

“Of– of course I will,” he answers, perplexed by the fact that she even has to ask. Of course he’ll help take care of the baby, he and Scully are in this together, as they are with everything.

Maggie hums. You could almost hear a pin drop.

“Seems like it would just be easier if you were both in the same room to begin with,” she states, shrugging her shoulders like what she’d said was no big deal. She sips nonchalantly from a styrofoam cup of coffee and doesn’t look at him.

Now, Mulder doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea... “Mrs. Scully—” he starts.

“It’s Maggie, Fox,” she says kindly but firmly, interrupting him. “You’re my son-in-law now, I think you can call me by my first name.”

He sighs, and feels the baby let out a sigh against his chest. You and me both, kid.

“Maggie…” he corrects. “Look, Scully—Dana—is my best friend. And we’ve agreed to be parents and raise Madeline together, but we’re not—”

“Fox,” she interrupts again. “It’s very sweet that you’ve taken on this role as Madeline’s father, but what about Dana? Doesn’t she deserve a real marriage, with a husband who does more than care for her as the co-parent of their child? Don’t you deserve more?”

The very idea that Scully might not be enough for him offends him deeply, and he’s quick to tell her so. “I couldn’t possibly ask for more than your daughter,” he says. “She’s– she’s all I need. Her and Madeline. As for Dana…”

“She needs you, too.”

“No, but–”

“Don’t take what I’m saying the wrong way,” Maggie says seriously, leaning toward him. “Dana deserves a real husband, who loves and cares for her in all the ways a husband should.”

She levels a stare at Mulder, and he waits for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m not saying that shouldn’t be you.”

What?

It’s not like he hasn’t thought of this before—he has—but to be talking about it with her mother? Twenty years from now, if Madeline were to have a friend like Mulder, he’d tell her to run away as fast as she possibly could. But—that isn’t what Margaret is saying, is it?

In fact… it seems like she’s saying the exact opposite.

“You care for her, don’t you?” she asks.

“I do, but—”

“You love her?”

Mulder’s jaw hangs open, his automatic reply dying on his lips. His heart pounds in his chest, and he spares a quick thought toward Maddie and hopes it won’t disturb her somehow. He wants to answer her, but he doesn’t know how. His throat closes up almost completely as tears pool in his eyes, and he doesn’t trust his voice to come out right if he tried.

He glances down at Maddie, this precious little life he and Scully have vowed to take care of.

“It doesn’t matter if I do,” he says quietly. “She doesn’t… feel the same way.”

He can’t look at Margaret right now. He’s afraid of what he would see if he did.

“She deserves better than what I can give her,” he finishes, taking comfort in the warmth of his daughter burrowed into his chest.

Maggie is quiet for a moment. Then, she says, “It looks, to me, like you’ve given her quite a lot.”

True or not, there’s still the matter of everything else his presence in her life has done for her. To her.

“It doesn’t compare to how much has been taken...” he says.

“Which you are not responsible for.” Maggie’s stare is unrelenting, he has no choice but to take every word she speaks to heart. “Ask yourself who else in Dana’s life would have been able to make this possible for her. Who else would make such a life-changing decision, just to make her dream come true?”

“Any guy would have to be stupid not to,” Mulder states the obvious.

“You sell yourself too short, Fox,” Maggie says, shaking her head in either annoyance or disappointment. He doesn’t like either of those directed at him—not from Margaret Scully. “There’s no one she trusts more than you,” she says emphatically. “She wouldn’t have done this with anyone else by her side.”

Maggie sits back, apparently finished dressing him down. The baby squirms and then settles in her sleep, still exhausted from the eventful day she’s had. He can’t help but think about what Maggie had said—that Scully would only ever do this with him, no one else. He wants to push back, to say that isn’t true, but he knows in his heart that it is.

The question is: what does that mean for him? What does it mean for them?

Maggie gives a tiny smile, watching as he absentmindedly rubs tiny circles on Maddie’s back, lost in thought.

“Dana has told me some of the more unbelievable things you believe in, Fox…” she says quietly. “Aliens, ghosts, monsters… Given that, I would think it would be easier.”

“That what would be easier?” Mulder asks, the drone of his murmur matching the tone she had set.

Maggie smiles at him fondly, her knowing eyes meeting his.

“For you to believe she loves you.”

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption #maggie scully #me: *wakes up to post at 7 am on a saturday*#*goes straight back to sleep*

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livelaughlovesubs · 22 hours

Note

oooh jjk men with a masc, androgynous gf who wears their clothes bfkwbfkwen

OHHH SOUNDS GREAT but there are so many Jjk men, so I won’t list all of them. Feel free to request for more after the first of June

Jjk x androgyn/ masc leaning reader

Features: gojo, Geto, Choso, Nanami, Toji

So to get this straight, I think most of them wouldn’t mind you stealing their clothes, as long as you do give it back someday. But Gojo? He’s filthy rich anyway, he doesn’t give a damn. Keep them if you want, he can just buy new ones. Heck, he might even start matching the clothes he buys with your style! An indirect way of gifting you new things. If you confronted him about it, he’d just say he changed styles. This is surprisingly considerate of him, isn’t it? Well to be honest, he just likes the thought of you wearing things he brought. Or basically bathing in his property (money). Also if you likes it, he’d definitely support you.

Geto had a short period where he was pretty broke, after he quit his career as a sorcerer. (My headcanon at least) This led to him only borrowing his clothes to you. He’s not being petty or something, cuz he has money now. It has just become a habit. Anyway his closet has many traditional clothes, but also comfortable street wears. Most of it is black though, so if you like other colours too.. Welp. And he wears a lot of baggy pants, so if you are not as tall as him, they might not fit. I think he’d find it quite endearing if you dressed up in the same theme as him, or tried his clothes on like you were shopping for new ones.

Choso only has that one outfit. Don’t take it away from him pls. (Sorry not sorry). But let’s assume he has more or whatever. Literally would not care unless there aren’t any clothes left for him. Then he’d mention it to you, about how if you don’t bring them back he won’t go out anymore. Up until that point though, yea, he wouldn’t mind. That guy’s chill with you stealing them. To be honest he isn’t that knowledgeable about society’s norms for genders. So if you are a woman, dressing very masculine or tomboyish, he’s not think anything about it. The same other way around. Bro’s been locked up for so long, as if he knows anything about ‘how to be a REAL girl’, or ‘how to be an Alpha sigma male’.

Nanami would actually be annoyed at times, cuz he put them away so clean-ly, folding and storing them away with order. Then you just make a mess, take it all out and throw it onto the bed or over a chair after you are done. He wouldn’t mind it too much anymore if you put everything back onto their previous place. But he didn’t gave you permission to use his clothes, did he? (he never told you to stop neither.) In my humble opinion, I imagine he’d teach you how to dress clean, in case you didn’t know. Like tying a tie in ten different ways, or what shoes fits which dress shirt. Otherwise he’s all about ‘do what you want, I literally don’t care as long as you don’t disrupt me’.

Same as Choso, but without plausible excuses, Toji also only has one outfit that he wears everyday. He literally got those 3 dollar flats at a second hand shop or stole them. His only excuse is his wife died, him being homeless and broke are not good reasons. Anyway, if this man did own a few more shirts and pants, he’d say something along the lines of, “take them off, they aren’t yours,” or, “the fuck are you doing???” Though like, if you said no and that you want to keep wearing it, he would grimace but not stress it further. As long as you won’t steal them and keep his clothes for yourself, he needs them too. Sometimes it would remind him of some past memories, and he won’t be able to hold back a soft smile.

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dollettodraws · 2 days

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AvA AU idea I’ve had in the back of my mind for the better part of a few months now

Cyberpunk Android AU, something like that, I have to come up with a cooler name still lmao

basically just the beckerverse except the sticks are androids lol

in a nutshell, the colour gang are now a vigilant group of rogue teen androids, cho and dark are on the constant run from the government because when are they not, victim’s pretty much doing what he’s doing in canon, stick city/the outernet net is now a cyberpunk-futuristic-kinda dystopian city (HEAVILY inspired by Neytirix- this entire AU is just inspired by her work ngl LMAO) and alan just has to deal with all this bs except it’s not all going on in his computer this time lmao (also dj’s there too cause why not)

it’s pretty much what you’d expect- the hollowheads were created by alan, duh- but with the colour gang in my head they would’ve been created to be fighting bots who were stuck in a constant cycle of violence (OOF) but managed to escape after meeting second and now live with him and alan

and basically they’re just tryna do good whilst trying to find some sense of normalcy in their lives- ngl its so hard to put this stuff into words when I’ve just been picturing it in my head lol

the events of AvA 1,2,3,4 and 5 all still happen, albeit a bit differently (AvA 4 especially, specifically regarding second meeting the CG) but I’ve mostly been thinking about how this AU works regarding AvA 6, considering it’s been so intense so far and it is just fuelling the angst enjoyer inside me 😭

have I been rewatching PLUTO on Netflix? Is this just an excuse to draw them in cool ass outfits and weapons inspired by Neytirix? Is this simply to fuel the angst gods? maybeshhhhh

btw- this au will most likely be strictly humanised- with my regular AvA/M stuff i switch between just drawing them as sticks and humanised, but for this au it’s gonna be the latter, and even though I’m gonna be using my same designs just know that they’re both seperate canons :’)

anyways I’m gonna go rewatch Neytirix’ PHOENIX for the millionth time 👍

#alan becker #animation vs animator #animator vs animation #ava headcanons #ava au #alternate universe #can you tell I like neytirix yet cause I really do :]#tempted to make a few comic pages of this au ngl #so many art ideas so little time #just imagine the ‘break us all’ animation meme with this LMAO #is that too oddly specific lol

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dr-trafalgar-law · 3 days

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Trafalgar Law X CisFem Reader

The second you opened the door you were scooped up into a bear hug.

"She's not a plushie." Law grumbled.

"I'm fine." You giggled as Rocinante set you back on your feet.

Law protested again as the blonde turned and wrapped his arms around him before losing his balance and ultimately taking them both to the floor.

"I've missed you both." He grinned, brushing himself off as he stood.

"It's only been a couple of weeks."

"He means we missed you too, Roci." You smiled, shutting the door.

"Thank you, F/N." Your soon-to-be father-in-law winked at you before looking around the room, "What a cute little space you have here."

"You're being too kind." You chuckled, "I haven't done much with it because we both work so much."

"No, it's just cozy enough. Law doesn't like cluttered spaces anyway."

Law pinched the bridge of his nose, "She's free to put up whatever decorations she wants."

"Ok,ok." Roci held his hands up, "How about a quick tour."

With that Law took his bag and showed him the room he'd be staying in for the weekend.

___________________

The suit shop was very different from where you chose your dress. The walls were painted in dark neutrals and the far right was a whiskey bar/humidor offering an array of cigars.

Suits and tuxedos hung all around you in a surprising variety of colors. You imagined Law would pick something simple and black. He often wore suits to work when he had consults and meetings so this wasn't as foreign to him as picking a fancy dress was to you.

The salesman that met you at the door ushered you back to a more private space. Much like the dress store there was a large mirror facing a pedestal and a black leather loveseat. After getting you settled with Roci on the sofa, Law and the salesman headed back to the changing rooms.

"How have things been?" The blonde asked, sipping the whiskey he was provided.

"We're getting along." Your face heated up and he smiled mischievously.

"I see."

"I...I mean -"

"Say no more," he interrupted you with a chuckle, "I'm glad the two of you are getting to know each other. The wedding is just a formality. You can go at whatever pace you're comfortable with."

"As long as there's a kid in two years." The weight of what you'd just said hit you in the gut.

He hummed, "I never liked the timeline."

You couldn't imagine that version of yourself yet. Mother to Law's child - a wife.

His wife.

That word still felt heavy, but not quite in the same way it had a few months ago. Things were ok now, sure, but would they get better? More importantly would they stay that way? Could he truly love you?

Before you could voice your next opinion your fiance rounded the corner.

His black hair was parted neatly to the left. He was in a classic black tuxedo with a black cummerbund and bowtie. You'd expected something simple, but not devoid of personality. It wasn't that he didn't look amazing - he absolutely did. This just didn't feel like the suit.

Law glanced at you in the mirror, "F/N, what do you think?"

"It's a good start, but you have suits at home that are more exciting."

He smiled softly, "We can do better."

"And maybe not a bowtie." Roci added earning an eye roll before Law stalked off to change.

There was a parade of outfits that were too flashy, too bland, too dark, too light or Roci didn't like it. Law was indifferent about the majority, but always asked for your opinion. There were a few that you liked so he'd set them aside to narrow down, but there was one last suit.

When he stepped out your stomach flipped. It was a three piece deep navy blue. The velvet jacket was paired with a champagne vest that had a vine pattern that matched the appliques on your dress. Maybe not exactly but it was close enough. He tugged a little at the navy tie while you looked him over, finally stopping at the rich dark brown spectators on his feet.

He turned from the mirror and met your gaze with a knowing smirk, "This is the one."

You nodded and stood motioning for him to lean down, "I just need to fix this."

Running your fingers through his hair, you smoothed it back earning a soft chuckle from Roci behind you.

"Much better." The blonde agreed as you stepped back.

Law straightened out and cleared his throat, "Thank you."

"It's perfect. I don't even think you need to have it tailored." You really had to work hard to not stare at him.

How had you gone months living with this ridiculously handsome man without noticing?

He smiled down at you and spoke in a low tone, "Would you like to take a picture?"

"Wh-No-hush." You looked away as your ears practically burst into flames.

"Alright, let's pack it up." Roci clapped his hands reminding the two of you that he existed, "I'm starving."

The day moved on with a quick lunch and running a few errands. You'd also taken Roci by your shop to pack up some of your more popular treats to send back to Olympia with him.

By the time the three of you arrived home it was after dark. Rocinante decided to treat you to a nice dinner in and ordered delivery.

"So, F/N, will I get to meet your parents before the wedding?"

Law glanced over watching you frown very briefly.

"They won't be making an appearance." You shrugged.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He murmured feeling he'd upset you.

"No worries," You smiled, "I expected it to come up. They aren't really present in my life. I mean, lucky for them their arrangement worked out but I was a requirement."

Law shifted next to you. He'd already known this information, but it still pissed him off.

"I was nannied and shipped off to boarding schools while they did whatever it is they do. The law is to have a kid, how you take care of them is a different story I guess."

The blonde clenched his fists, "I'd like to throttle people like that. None of this was your fault."

"It's fine. I think I turned out ok and I have a lot of chosen family and one cousin that I'm close to."

"Well, now you're part of our family." He said enthusiastically, "I couldn't be more proud."

"Thank you." You almost whispered, fighting back the urge to cry.

Roci stood abruptly to hug you, spilling his drink across the table.

After dinner the three of you sat in the living room chatting with some soju. This was a side of you Law didn't even know existed. You sat on the floor in front of the coffee table refilling the small saké cups before pushing them back to Law and Roci. Your face was slightly flushed from the alcohol and a soft smile rested on your lips.

Complete relaxation sat before him humming and giggling at the lame dad jokes he'd heard his adopted father unload a million times. He watched you in quiet appreciation while you were too distracted to notice.

Bubbly - not a word he'd associated with you before. Here you were laughing harder than he'd ever seen, appearing to not have a care in the world. Of course the soju was helping with that.

But the days were much easier and nights were comfortable.

When you were apart he thought about you, texted you, worried when you took a little too long to answer. He wanted to come home to you.

He'd gotten used to your weight in the bed, your soft snores and how you stole all the blankets at night only to kick one of your feet out to cool yourself down.

"I think this old man needs to put himself to bed." The blonde chuckled slowly pulling himself to his feet.

"G'night, sweet dreams~" You sang while he used the wall to keep himself upright and shuffled to Law's room.

"I think it's time for you to get to bed too." Law was already standing next to you offering his hand.

"Oh, how kind~." You chortled, allowing him to assist you, "You let me have all the fun tonight."

"I had a good time too." He guided you to the bed to sit down.

"It's too stuffy." You complained leaning back to wiggle out of your leggings.

"Do you need help?" He asked closing the door.

"You just want to undress me."

Law glanced away fighting to keep a neutral expression.

"I'm trying to be a good partner." He corrected.

"I was only teasing." Your pouty voice was nearly lost in the rustling sheets as you covered up.

"I know," He sighed, removing his shirt and turning out the lights, "Do you feel like you might get sick?"

"No." You yawned, "Can you come to bed already?"

Drunk you was going to be the death of him.

"Zero patience." He teased, moving the blankets back.

You only giggled and moved to face him as he settled next to you.

"Law?"

"Hm?"

"I like you."

"...I like you too F/N."

#closure #lyndsyh24 #one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #slow burn #x reader #trafalgar law #marco the phoenix #18+ mdni #fem reader

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