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loveliestdagger · 2 days

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ask (bucky barnes x f!reader)

read it on ao3

summary: when, after a mission, the reader needs Bucky's help tending to her wounds.

word count: 1227

warnings: blood and injury, stab wound

a/n: feedback is always appreciated, especially since i'm thinking about writing another chapter. anyways...enjoy!!!

I hold onto the doorframe, putting as little weight on my leg as possible. the open wound stings, deepening into consistent pain jolting up the thigh and reverbing in my brain. I feel the blood dripping down my freshly washed body.

The nightgown is purposefully too short, showing the extent and severity of the cut. It starts mid thigh trailing down almost to the knee. It's deep too. Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, boots undone. His hair clings to his forehead with the same sweat that makes his bare chest glisten just as hard as his metal arm. If I didn't feel like dying I'd drool.

He takes note of my presence as soon as I open the bathroom door, straightening up. I can feel his eyes on me, burning in the raw flesh of my thigh. I register a millisecond of surprise and then his eyes raise to meet mine.

I don’t move. I should. I swallow in dry, returning his stare. My vision blurs and the hand that isn’t supporting me tremors uncontrollably – the only visible sign of my distress. He gets up, walking close enough that I can distinguish his eyes through the haziness.

Sam had once joked every time I got injured I acted like a wounded animal. Unwilling to accept help, let alone ask for it. Running away to lick my wounds and coming back when everything is fine.

Bucky stands in front of me, his lips pressed into a line. He analises me, knowing me too well already. "You need me to stitch it up."

It’s not a question or a statement. It's the iteration of what I need to say but can’t. All I can muster is to not avoid his gaze, as my face burns and my knees falter.

Still, my eyes avoid his when I speak.

"I wouldn't ask if I-"

"You haven't."

I let out a heavy breath, frustration intensifying the hot flashes surging through me as I retreat back into the bathroom. I'm going to bleed to death because I can’t bring myself to ask for help. Real mature. But his hand grasps mine, our fingers bruising almost intertwining before he settles his grip firmly on my wrist. When I decide to look back at him his gaze has softened.

"Ask." It’s a quiet, breathy sound. I’m tired and hurt and he's leaning into me, his warmth far more comforting than — could me. And I find myself holding onto his heart, the steady beating underneath my fingers. He draws circles on the inside of my wrist. The other hand rises to cup my cheek and I lean into it, shuddering breaths as his skin makes contact with mine. "Talk to me."

I crumble like a statue made to wait too long.

"It hurts." I croak through the lump in my throat. It’s not what he wants me to say but it’s the truth. It’s the most sincere I’ve been in a while.

"I know baby." He says softly in my ear while his fingers brush the ends of my hair.

"I need help." I mutter.

"Then let’s get you some help." He guides me back inside the bathroom, his hand resting on the small of my back. The tactical gear is in a pile on the corner, along with blood soaked undergarments. Even the tiles underneath have a reddish hue to them, messily wiped in a pained haze.

He motions for me to sit on the edge of the bathtub, leaving the room only when he’s sure I won't fall over. The lights are too bright and I'm suddenly very cold. When he comes back, with a medical kit that had to have taken up half of his bag, I’m gripping the edges of the tub.

He kneels in front of me, laying out his supplies. I watch him work, slowly, methodically and when he gazes back at me he looks unsure. His thumb trails the extent of the wound, gliding in the blood that keeps on pouring out and he watches me. His eyes roam my face in search of something. Then he looks at my thigh again, eyebrows knitted together as I hold my breath. He's looking for pain. And I'm sure I look pained. The edges of the wound are jagged and I can feel where the knife nicked the bone. It’s a dull ache, deep inside the leg. Incomparable with the searing pain of the cut itself which I feel burning at the edges like it's trying to knit itself back together.

"Just do it." I exhale. It’s when I notice I'm panting, my body so heavy I have to make a conscious effort to sit upright.

"I'll make it quick, I promise." His eyes crease with a sympathetic smile. His hand sliding to massage my calf. I manage a nod, my eyes threatening to close.

I can’t resist the urge to lean over him, a content sigh escaping my lips as my forehead meets his bare shoulder and rests there. I register the sharp sting of disinfectant. Then I feel the pressure of his fingers on the edges of the cut, clenching my teeth as he pinches the skin together and whimpering when he draws the needle through it. And he does it again. And again.

"Are you still with me?" he calls out after a while. I somewhat nod, not feeling the strength to lift my head. "We’re almost done. Just a little bit longer, okay?"

"I feel awful." I confess, just as he drags a wet towel softly across the stitches.

"You lost a lot of blood. I’m actually surprised you’re holding out so well."

"What can I say? I’m a natural."

"I'd prefer it if you weren’t a natural at getting stabbed." I feel scolded, as he finishes wrapping my leg, the pressure bringing immediate relief.

He grabs my shoulders, straightening me up. He brushes damp hair out of my face, like it’s a curtain separating him from gazing at the view, looking so intently into my eyes I think he might actually get a glimpse into my soul.

"You did good." And there’s his eyes, and his mouth. And I'm sure I will say something but I can't hear myself. I can’t think. And his eyes. His eyes, shiny and caring, full of such honesty and tenderness I don’t know if my knees are weak for him or because of blood loss. And I don’t care because he carries me and lays me on the bed. He covers me and his fingers stroke my cheek as he asks if I’m okay.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning in my direction I feverishly think he might kiss me. I wonder if he wants to. I’m sure I would like it, he seems like a good kisser. With his pretty pink lips and his soft skin.

"I have to check in with Nat." He says hesitantly, his hand still on my face. "I'll check on you when I get back."

" I should go too" I squirm, trying to free myself from the bedsheets. Having a drink at some dirty bar with Natasha sounds nice for once. And I have a lot to debrief

He pushes me back down. "You’ve done enough for today."

I try again and I’m met with the same fate.

"Sleep."

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mattyriddlesbitch · 2 days

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Hii lovely!! I'm not sure if it's alright but just hear me out. maybe a fic stalker theo completely obsessed w reader, maybe kinda dubcon but if not i totally understand !!

Very convenient timing considering I just read Haunting Adeline this weekend. I kinda used one of the parts in it for the instigation, but I hope this works!

Fuck Off

Theodore Nott x F!Reader

Warnings: DUB/NONCON PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T LIKE THIS STUFF, oral(female receiving), unprotected sex, cream pie, cussing, stalking.

18+ Minors DNI

You've had a stalker for a few months now. They would leave gifts outside your dorm to begin with. Then they started showing up in your dorm. The gifts were sweet and tailor specifically to your likes and wants, which you couldn't decide if that made it creepier or not.

The gifts weren't the only thing you got from your stalker. They would also send you texts from an unknown number. They weren't threatening or anything that suggested harm to you. Maybe creepy since they'd talk about what you were doing in that moment, even when you were completely alone. Sometimes they were sweet, sometimes they were sexual. And you hated to admit it, but they knew exactly how to talk dirty to you, they could get you worked up so easily. It freaked you out but you weren't in danger. Right?

You were sitting in your bed reading, unwinding from the hectic day you just had when your phone went off for a text notification. It startled you out of your little world and you opened the message.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are when you're reading?”

Your stalker again.

“A few times.” You replied. At this point, you've given up ignoring them since they'll just keep messaging you until you respond.

“I'll tell you a million more times. You should be reminded every day how beautiful you are.”

“You already do that.”

“Maybe next time I say it, I can say it while my cock's buried deep inside you.”

“Pervert.”

“Only for you. You know you drive me insane. You make me so hard just sitting there. Especially since I know the filth you're reading. You're not so innocent yourself, bella.”

You looked at your phone for a moment before looking around. You did read dirty books, but only in your dorm. Another ping from your phone drew your attention back to it.

“You won't find me, amore mio. You should know this by now.”

“Fuck off.” You replied, angry at him for how he's treating your privacy.

“Careful, principessa. If you say that again, I'm gonna come fuck that little pussy of yours.”

You scoffed, disgusted by his words. Would he really come do it? No. Was part of you also curious if he would and wanted to see who he was? Yeah. That's why you couldn't stop yourself from replying.

“Fuck off.”

“You're in for it now, cara mia.”

You rolled your eyes and went back to your book. Your eyes felt heavy after a while and you put the book aside to fall asleep.

The next day, you got up and headed for the showers, getting ready for the day. You stripped and got under the hot water of the shower, relaxing for a moment before starting your shower routine.

You always got an eerie feeling of someone watching you or being right there when you closed your eyes while rinsing the shampoo and conditioner out of your hair. This time, though, when you opened your eyes after rinsing out the conditioner, there was someone right in front of you. You knew him, of course, everyone did. Theodore Nott.

You screamed and backed away from him, hitting the shower wall while you covered your body as best as you could.

“Get the fuck out!” You yelled.

“I'm not going anywhere, cara mia.” He smiled. You noticed he was fully clothed as he stepped towards you, drenching his clothes from the shower.

“You? You're the fucking creep that's been stalking me?” You made the connection after hearing him call you the same pet name as your stalker.

“If you recall that little conversation last night, I told you I'd come fuck you if you told me to ‘fuck off’ again, which you did.” He took another step closer, his shoes nearly touching your toes. “And I don't make empty threat, principessa.”

“I could scream right now and someone will come in and stop you.” You threatened, hoping to deter him.

“I'm hurt you think I'm so stupid. I put a silencing charm on the room and looking charm on the door so no one could come in and you can't get out.” He said as he brushed a strand of your wet hair from your face.

You flinched from his touch, closing your eyes. “What are you gonna do to me?” You whisper.

“I'm gonna make you feel so, so good, bella.” He said and moved to kneel in front of you.

As soon as his knees hit the tile, you pushed him out of the way and ran out of the shower, trying not to slip.

“I already told you, you cant get out, cara mia.” He called out to you.

You ignored him and tried the door to the bathroom. Wouldn't even budge. You didn't have your wand on you either since you were showering. Hands wrapped around your waist and you fought against him, kicking back to hit him, which just ended up making you both fall to the ground. He was much quicker than you, propping you on your knees so your face was down and ass up for him while he held your hands behind your back. You couldn't see him from this angle, but felt his tongue flick your clit, making you moan.

“You act like you don't want me, but your soaking, cara mia.” He said before licking and sucking at your clit.

Your words died in your throat, replaced by a moan leaving your mouth instead.

“Your body knows what it wants, amore mio.” He licked up to your entrance, prodding his tongue inside.

“Fuck.” You moaned, eyes rolling back before closing.

He moaned against you and kept his onslaught of pleasure on your pussy until you came.

“That's my good girl. That's what I wanted.” He said as he helped ride out your high.

“To force yourself on me?” You asked as you caught your breath once the orgasm faded.

“To make you feel good, principessa.” He shuffled behind you a bit as he kept a hand holding yours down still. You could hear the sound of his pants being undone.

“I think there could've been another way to fuck me that didn't involve stalking and harassing me.” It probably wasn't a smart move to mouth off to your stalker, but you were so angry. You pulled your hands out of his grip and tried taking off, but he just grabbed your legs, making you fall back on your stomach.

“I think you like this, though. I see how soaked you are from this.” He pulled you back onto your knees and held onto both your wrists with both of his hands. His cock teased your entrance, coating it in your arousal.

“You think I like you forcing yourself on me?” You said, hissing from how sensitive you were when he nudged your clit.

“You haven't told me to stop.” He said before thrusting into you, immediately bottoming out and making you cry out. “You're practically dripping from how wet you are for me, cara mia.”

You couldn't even deny that, maybe you were crazy, but you were embarrassingly wet from all this.

He started thrusting in and out of you, his grip on your wrists tight, bruises will probably form later from all of this.

“Not even trying to fight back anymore. You finally accepting that you're enjoying this?” He asked, letting go of your wrists to grab your hips. “Or maybe I got you too cockdrunk on me. Is that it? Am I making you feel so good you can't talk?” His voice was condesending.

“Fuck off.” You said, clawing at the floor to grip something.

“You love testing me, principessa. I don't mind. I'm happy to put you in your place each time.” He said and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “You can stop acting like you hate this. I can feel you clenching my cock like you can't get enough of it.”

“As if.” You said between moans. He was hitting you so deep and fast, it had another orgasm building quickly.

“Keep talking like that and next time I'll have to punish you, amore mio.” He said, moving a hand from your hip to grip your hair. “How about you be a good girl instead and cum on my cock for me, yeah?”

“Fuck, shit!” You cried out, so close to cumming.

“Scream my name when you cum. Wanna hear how it sounds from those pretty lips.” He groaned, he was getting close himself. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, principessa.”

You came around him, trembling as his name fell from your lips over and over.

“That's the most beautiful sound I've ever fucking heard. Shit!” He said before moaning, his hips stilling as he came inside you, filling your pussy with his cum.

He pulled out as you both caught your breaths and stood back up, quickly redoing his pants before pulling out his wand and undoing the spells. He left the bathroom without another word to you as you slowly got up and went back to the shower to scrub the filth of what you'd done off of you.

And hopefully convince yourself that you didn't enjoy that.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @motherfing-stargirl @brittney-121

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddlesbitch @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@demieyesore

Let me know if you wanna be added!

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys smut #thedore nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x reader smut

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romypearl · 1 day

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The Queen's Pawn - Regina George/Oblivious!Reader | II

Summary: Everyone is interested and obsessed with Regina George, after all, she is the queen of the North Shore, so why does Y/N barely look at her? The new student, oblivious to her existence, intrigues and irritates the blonde at the same time. And she doesn't know how to deal with it.

Classification: Fluff

Warnings: Slight internalized homophobia

Word count: +2200

Unrevised

She's always liked strawberries. Sweet, soft and tickling the roof of mouth. And, coincidentally, every now and then it turns pink.

Like the remnants of ice cream that hang around the corner of Y/N's plump lips.

It's hard to ignore, is what Regina tells herself as she turns away, trying to find a random fixed point to distract her. What proves to be more than impossible, out of the corners of her eyes she watches a little speech about Greek culture, something about Stoicism and a guy called Zeno, she doesn't really know, can't pay attention in the long words, only and exclusively in that spot. How could the Miss Perfect and Retainer of All Knowledge miss something so silly? The blonde huffs and crosses her arms in frustration, how has no one seen this yet? The Plastics seemed indifferent, pretending to pay attention to the matter while typing messages, knowing that their respective partners would do all the work for them and be grateful. She had no such luck. When Mrs. Blake, inspired by the... variety of grades, announced that she was going to pair up for assignments, she was sure that had guaranteed a top mark and a pat on the back for the minimal effort, equivalent to a zero. It would have been like that, if she hadn't made Karen switch papers to have Y/N as partner. After all, if she's so clever could easily get an A for both, but it backfired.

"What the hell kind of word is Eudaimonia?" she finally asks, frowning in confusion.

"Did you pay attention to anything I said?"

"All the things you say are very boring." Regina shrugs and turns so that they're face to face "Just like you."

She waits for some reaction, ever since they started studying about an hour ago Regina teases her and pulls all the strings in search of the right one, the one that will snap her out of the calm state of mind or hit her in some way. Nothing. She's rather unreachable. And, just like the other times, totally ignores the petty comment.

"But..." she hates doing it, every lousy second "Can you tell me what it is?"

"Right! For the last time..." Y/N settles back in chair and takes another spoonful of ice cream to mouth, thinking about how to summarize what she's been trying to say for a long time "Eudaimonia is a term from Greek philosophy that means a state of happiness and inner well-being. In literal translation it is "the state of being inhabited by a good daemon, a good genius"."

"Daemon?" I'm getting more and more lost "Did the Greeks believe in that?"

"No, it's daemons, not demons." the newbie's monotonous tone becomes animated as she starts talking, which makes Regina's heart skip a beat and she doesn't like it "In Greek mythology, they were spiritual beings who occupied an intermediate place between gods and humans, they could be either benevolent or malevolent..."

Then another speech begins, this time she tries to pay attention, but gradually the words blur into disconnected sentences and all she can focus on is how they sound on the girl's lips, how she pronounces them, her tongue curling between pearly teeth, the soft sound and, still, that damn ice cream. She tries to remember the last time she ate one, it seems like months, maybe years. What did it taste like? Overly sweet and sickly? Smooth and addictive? Why did her mother have to interrupt them and offer a dozen options? And why did she have to choose just that? Tempting. Lovely. Irresistible.

Y/N gasps in surprise and freezes in place as she suddenly feels something soft pressed against the corner of her mouth, thumb rubbing something that is apparently resisting coming out and her eyes meet sky blue irises, staring at her obstinately. The touch is long, almost purposeful, and they don't realize they're holding breath, unaware of their surroundings, too caught up in each other to notice the curious gazes of the two lackeys.

To everyone's surprise, including her own, Regina rubs the stain, picking up some of the gloss in the process, and brings to her lips, sucking it off. She has to hold back a groan and fight against her body to keep composure, pretending not to be shaken by her own impulsive, totally thoughtless, act.

"If my face was so dirty, you could simply have warned me." she says after a long, thoughtful pause, unable to find any conceivable reason except that "But I appreciate your gesture, it was really kind."

Kind? Has anyone, at any time in life, used that word to refer to her? Maybe her dad, once, just after Kylie was born and before they lost control completely. But there was nothing kind about what she had done, quite the opposite.

"Do you want more?" the blonde points to the almost empty bowl, anxious to mask the situation quickly.

"No, thanks!"

"How about Doritos?"

"I think I've eaten too much junk food today, it can't be good for me." Y/N jokes and opens a big smile, making cheeks stand out along with dimples that are almost imperceptible to inattentive eyes.

"We have strawberries." she says immediately, not stopping to think about those soft lips around the red fruit. When Gretchen looks at her in confusion and frowns, trying to subtly point, the plan comes back to mind and she decides to put it into practice "Also blueberries, raspberries, blackberries. Whatever you like, sweetie."

"You really like berries."

"You can't blame me..." Regina leans on the table, one hand on chin, long eyelashes batting slowly and a smirk, the same one that has won over every boy she's ever wanted "When is your color."

"What do you mean?" the other asked, without even looking up from the papers, missing all the theatrics.

"Red is your color..."

"My favorite color is yellow." she finally abandons the notes, only to find George defeated in front of her, about to slam her head on the glass table to get out of this nightmare "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Of course!" Regina snorts and points towards the corridor "Second door on the right, don't get lost."

Secretly, George hopes, wishes, that she really would get lost so that she could finally have the opportunity to guide her through something, or simply talk to her without two ticks on their backs. When she wants to, Gretchen can be very... clingy and insistent, often taking the brunette as a side effect, not unexpected considering how insecure she is about herself and the stability of her position in the hierarchy of North Shore, a drone that takes pride of function. Most of the time it's acceptable, in fact her presence barely matters to the queen bee in ordinary situations, but now all she wants is for the two of them to disappear at the snap of a finger.

"Karen, Gretchen, I need you to do me a favor." Regina is direct, in a casual tone.

"Of course! What do you need?" Wieners replies promptly, always eager to please.

"Can you go to the convenience store and get some Redbulls?" she smiles and stands up, taking one of the credit cards out of the purse, tossing it for them to take "All the flavors you can find."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. And get some more ice cream too."

They exchange glances, but don't dare deny Regina anything, even if it means half an hour's walk "Right, we're going."

The pair get up and leave quickly, holding their tongues to avoid questioning her about the sudden request, nor about what seems to be an interest in the newbie. Right from the first day, they listed her as a loser, with no social sense and who no one would have the courage to touch without a ten-foot pole, so they didn't understand why she insisted on winning her over. And they had no idea that she would have her as a partner in history and now visiting the George mansion.

Regina smiles triumphantly. The living room is finally quiet and she can turn her attention completely to the plan, she didn't feel shy or pressured to succeed around them, but didn't have all the attention from Y/N as she can have without silly questions and random celebrity gossip. It's the perfect moment.

She stares at herself in the mirror above the fireplace and fixes the smallest details of appearance so that she looks flawless.

"Gina!" her mother calls out from the kitchen, walking briskly into the room, and she rolls her eyes, before feeling blood run cold at the sight of her companion "What a adorable girl! She even offered to help me in the kitchen."

"Mom..." she mutters between teeth, trying to keep composed as her mother steps forward, arms around Y/N's shoulders "She's here to study."

"Oh, of course, of course! Studying is important." June says with a mischievous smile and finally lets her go "Studying what? Human anatomy?" and winks suggestively at her daughter, causing a wave of embarrassment and annoyance.

"Mom!" Regina exclaims, face burning with embarrassment, hoping that the girl won't pay any attention to her mother. At least she didn't offer condoms like last time, which didn't embarrass her like it does now "It's history."

"And philosophy." Y/N adds.

"A lot less interesting, but still important." the woman continues, not letting herself be put down, and turns to the visitor "Darling, would you like something to drink? Juice? Lemonade? More ice cream?"

Y/N, not at all affected by the expansive and slightly invasive personality, nods and opens a shy smile "A juice would be great, thank you."

"Perfect!" June hurries off to the kitchen, but not before taking one last meaningful look at her firstborn, who blushes visibly.

Regina sighs heavily and sits down at the table, this time next to her classmate, trying to regain control of the situation.

"Sorry about that. Sometimes my mom is a bit much."

"It's okay!" Y/N replies, settling into the soft chair, and goes back to concentrating on the notes scattered across the surface. In an almost imperceptible movement, she adjusts her glasses, which the blonde hadn't even noticed were resting on the top of head, and puts them on face, completely transforming her appearance "You're lucky."

It's Regina's turn to gasp, barely feeling the surprised sound escape between her lips. She'd deny it to anyone who asked if she thought the girl was beautiful, deny it to death, but there's something differently captivating that prevents her from lying now. The lenses enhance the Y/E/C eyes, making them more penetrating, as if she could see into the soul through them. The sight makes the older's heart race and her palms sweat, having to concentrate not to let it show, let alone appear enchanted.

"Do you wear glasses?"

"Yes, for years, but I was trying to get used to contact lenses." the newbie says, adjusting the frame correctly, sighing with relief "Which turned out to be a disaster."

"They look... good on you." she comments, trying to sound casual and not too anxious, failing miserably as she stares "Your eyes are beautiful."

"Thank you!" Y/N finally lifts her face and catches the queen bee with a simple glance behind the lens along with the amused smile, rare occasion, the same one Janis gets "But they don't work."

Regina laughs at the witty response, finding her perspicacity and humor interesting, very different from what surrounds her in everyday life. She's not afraid to make a joke about herself, when any of the trio would rather fight a bear than do such a thing, making themselves the material for silly and light-hearted jokes. Y/N seems to be completely oblivious to the effect she is causing, Regina's flushed cheeks being nothing more than the result of the warm weather, the friendly laughter aimed at everyone and the hospitality something routine, perhaps an apology for the not so pleasant first meeting. All the compliments, overly embellished and full of hidden intentions, simple acts of politeness, so she remains unaffected and continues to read the manuscripts, without giving the blonde what she so desperately wants.

"You know, the text isn't going to write itself." she laughs and points to the long-forgotten laptop "And I've already made it clear that I'm not going to do everything myself."

With a disbelieving nod, Regina goes back to work, trying to ignore the signals her own body gives off in the presence of the other. It's hard not to be affected by the sweet perfume emanating from inviting skin, the taste of ice cream she wants to try again, the way she seems so at ease and unimpressed in her house, lips puckering as she encounters a paragraph incomprehensible at first reading and now pushing up the stubborn glasses that insist on slipping down her nose. God, all of this is messing with Regina's head in a way she can't explain, there are no plans that could infiltrate all the sinful thoughts that invade her with this privileged view.

She forces herself to concentrate on the task in hand, which tingles as she feels their arms lightly touching, but a part of her desperately craves more of these moments of closeness, even if it means ignoring the voice of reason that screams in her mind that she's not a dyke and wouldn't be for Y/N. It's just a fucking plan. Nothing more than that.

Taglist: @reginassweetheart @chaengluva @avelynpye @bianchiniomg @royalityofmultifandom @lottiematthewsceo @notjaexiee @mayles @l1lass @bridkesby @newyork1432

Join my taglist here ^^

#regina george x reader #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #regina george #renee rapp #fluff #romypearl

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rainylana · 3 days

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“Just say that one day you will.”

Dad!Eddie Munson x mom!reader

summary: a short fic about eddie and reader as parents to patty munson:)

warnings: allusions to eddie having a “past life”, mentions of having self doubts as a parent. i think that’s it?? let me know if i missed anything!

He’s covered in food, spit up. Probably pee, too. His head hurts from his hair being pulled. His stomach aches from not having time to eat. He’s exhausted. He never realized how much you had taken on being a mother until you went back to work at the newspaper office. He didn’t know how you did. How flawless you made it look. Motherhood suited you, and as much as he loved his baby, he wasn’t sure if he looked as graceful handling it all like you did.

“Come on, baby, eat something for daddy, huh?” His voice is soft, eyes wide and whimsical, hoping he can trick his daughter into taking her bottle. “If you’re cranky when mommy gets home that means mommy will be cranky. Mommy’s scary when she’s cranky, yes she is.” His using his baby voice, putting the top of the bottle to little Patty Munson’s lips.

It’s clear to him that she’s not hungry, even though it’s past her time to eat. She’s refused to go down for a nap, crying every time he’s put her down or left the room to use the bathroom. Eddie sighs, putting down the bottle on the table and leaning back into the couch. He holds her on his lap, the seventh month old staying upright by his arms. She smiles, making him laugh.

“Yeah, you think it’s funny watching me struggle, huh?” He wiggles his brows at her. “You just want held, don’t ya?”

Patty was going through another one of her phases where she couldn’t be alone, never wanting to be without mom or dad. She always needed to be in their arms, preferably mommy’s. “Well, I don’t have a problem with that.” He lifts her up and gives her a kiss on the nose.

She’s the carbon copy of him. Dark curls and brown eyes, pale skin and a birthmark on her right shoulder, same place as her dad’s. He worries one day she’ll be just like him. His older now, and when he looked back on his childhood, he felt guilty for worrying Wayne the way he did. He hoped he could raise his daughter to have more sense than he did growing up.

When five o’clock rolled around, Eddie had managed to get the house moderately straightened up. It was difficult with a baby attached to his hip. The dishes were done and the bed was made. Halfway through he had put her in the playpen, only to take her out when she had a meltdown. He nearly broke his neck running back to her.

“Oh, baby.” He nearly fell to his knees when you walked through the door.

“How’s my baby!” You smiled, running to lift your daughter from his arms. She was flailing her little limbs, squealing and laughing joyfully at the sight of you.

“I’m okay.” Eddie’s arm relaxes from the absent weight, the numbness running down his arm that he tries to shake out. “A little tired.”

You laugh at him, giving kiss after kiss to Patty’s cheeks. She’s giggling, drooling all over her red and white dress that was covered in food stains.

“Hi, baby.” You smile and turn toward him, kissing his cheek lovingly. “Rough day?”

“What makes you say that?” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “House is still standing, isn’t it?”

You sit on the couch, holding Patty on your lap. Eddie sits down beside you, relaxing into the couch cushions.

You smile affectionately, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “Honey, are you sure you’re able to do this? I can take off work for a few more weeks if you need me to.”

“No, no, I’ve got it, babe.” He puts his other hand over yours. “I do. Promise. You did your part. Carried her for nine months and spent another six taking care of her. You need a social life to, y/n. It’s time I do my part.” He smiled at you lovingly, meaningfully.

“We’re finally at a place where money isn’t a problem,” He continues. “I want you to be happy and have a job you love. I don’t mind taking off work for awhile. Wayne and Gareth got the Job okay.”

Your emotions are flooding through you, causing you to get choked up inside. You sigh, laying your cheek on the dark curls of Patty’s head. “I am happy, Eddie. You have no idea how happy I am.”

He always chuckled when you said that, because he did. Eyes flickering between his now sleeping baby, cuddled into your chest, he rolls his eyes. “Now, she wants to sleep. I’ve been trying to get her to nap all day!”

You pat her back and smile happily, kissing the top of her head. “God, I love her so much.” You say quietly. “Isn’t it crazy? Loving her as much as you do? Sometimes I think my hearts going to explode.”

He never knew he could love someone as much as his daughter. When he met you, he never thought his love could go any further than that, but it was like his heart grew and made room for the both of you. It connected you, having Patty together. It made you closer than you could’ve ever imagined.

“I know what you mean.” His fingers squeeze her socked foot. “Sometimes I lay awake at night and just worry about all the things that could happen. I think that’s why I’m tired all the time.” He chuckles softly.

You understood that, too, nodding as you lean back into the couch pillow. He moved over to you, careful to not wake up Patty, and lays his head against your shoulder. “Thank you for giving me this life. I don’t deserve either of you.”

“Yes, you do.” You blink tiredly, looking down at his bushel of curls. “You deserve happiness, Eddie. I wish you believed me.”

He truly believed he didn’t. Though he was not the same man he once was, he had gone through his life a thief and cheating man, a liar and a conman. The things he had done haunted him at night, but you assured him he had done the things he needed to do to survive.

“One day,” He looks up at you, nose barely an inch apart. “I’ll make you my wife.”

You start to blush, eyes prickling at the sides. God, you were so happy. “Really?”

“Just say that one day you will be.” He whispers, glancing at your lips briefly. “Promise me you’ll be my wife.”

You sniffle and choke on a sob, smiling at him through your lashes. “I promise.”

#dad!eddie munson #mom!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #female reader #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff

174 notes · View notes

imthebadguyyy · 2 days

Text

my boy only breaks his favourite toys

pairing : charles leclerc x reader

fandom : f1

series : the tortured poets department

warnings : angst baby angst, no comfort here.

a/n : this broke my heart a little but oh well.

oh here we go again...

The late afternoon sun filtered through the large windows of the Monaco apartment, casting a golden hue over the modern, embellished living room. You and Charles stood in the kitchen, a simmering tension between you.

"You know how important this event is to me, Charles," you said, your voice steady but with an edge of frustration. "I've been looking forward to it for weeks."

Charles sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I know, and I'm sorry, but you know how demanding the F1 schedule is. I have commitments I can't get out of."

You crossed your arms, your eyes narrowing slightly. "Oh, here we go again," you muttered, more to yourself than to him. "Every time I have something important, it's always the same excuse."

Charles's eyes flashed with a mixture of guilt and frustration. "It's not an excuse, Y/N. This is my job. It's what I've worked for my entire life."

"And what about what I've worked for?" you shot back, your voice rising. "This event is a big deal for me, and it feels like you don't even care."

Charles stepped closer, his expression softening as he reached out to touch your arm. "That's not fair. I do care, deeply. But I can't just drop everything because our schedules clash."

You pulled away, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "It feels like your career always comes first, Charles. I need you to be there for me too, just once."

He sighed, frustration giving way to a deep sadness in his eyes. "I want to be there for you, but I don't know how to balance everything."

You looked at him, your eyes filled with unshed tears. "Maybe it's time you figure out how, because I can't keep doing this. I need to know I'm important to you too."

Charles's face hardened slightly, a storm brewing in his eyes. "This again? You think I don't know how important you are? I can't be in two places at once, Y/N."

Your voice shook with emotion as you replied, "I'm not asking you to be perfect, Charles. I'm asking you to make an effort."

His frustration boiled over, his tone sharp. "I am making an effort! But you can't expect me to be there for every single event when I'm fighting for my career."

Your tears finally spilled over, your voice breaking. "I'm not asking for every single event. I'm asking for this one. But it seems like that's too much to ask."

Charles stared at you, his jaw clenched, before he turned away abruptly. "I can't do this right now," he muttered, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair.

"Where are you going?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"Out," he said curtly, not looking back as he headed for the door. "I need some air."

The door slammed behind him, leaving you standing alone in the quiet apartment, the echo of your argument hanging heavy in the air. You sank onto the couch, wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling a cold emptiness settle in your chest. The silence was deafening, and for the first time, you wondered if your love could withstand the strain of your clashing worlds.

rivulets descend my plastic smile...

The grand ballroom of the FIA Gala was adorned with sparkling lights and elegant decorations, a fitting venue for the prestigious event. You arrived on Charles's arm, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As a famous singer, you were set to perform a song later in the evening, and the anticipation was palpable.

Charles looked dashing in his tailored suit, and he squeezed your hand reassuringly as you made your way through the crowd, greeting fellow drivers and attendees. You couldn't help but notice the pride in his eyes as he introduced you to his colleagues, but a small part of you hoped that pride would extend to your performance later.

As the evening progressed, you were called to the stage. The crowd applauded as you took your place at the microphone, the spotlight shining brightly on you. The music started, and you poured your heart into the song, your voice resonating through the grand hall.

But as you sang, your eyes scanned the audience, searching for Charles. When you found him, your heart sank. He wasn't watching your performance. Instead, he was at the bar, engrossed in conversation with a group of people, a drink in hand. He didn't even glance in your direction.

You fought to keep your composure, finishing the song with as much passion as you could muster. The crowd erupted in applause, but the hurt gnawed at you. As you stepped off the stage, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz, Alex Albon, and Pierre Gasly approached you, their expressions a mix of admiration and concern.

"That was incredible, Y/N," Lewis said, giving you a warm hug.

"Seriously, you were amazing," Carlos added, his smile genuine.

Alex and Pierre echoed their sentiments, but there was an undercurrent of awkwardness.

"We're sorry about Charles," Pierre said quietly, glancing towards the bar. "He should have been watching you."

You forced a smile, gratitude for their support mingling with the sting of Charles's neglect. "Thank you, guys. It means a lot."

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, you excused yourself, needing a moment to collect your thoughts. You made your way to the bathroom, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. Once inside, you locked the door behind you and leaned against the sink, the tears you'd been holding back finally spilling over.

The sound of the bustling gala outside was muted here, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your pain. You couldn't understand why Charles couldn't be there for you, why he couldn't even watch you perform for just a few minutes. The hurt and frustration were overwhelming, and you let yourself cry, the tears a cathartic release.

As you stood there, you wondered if this was something you could continue to endure. Being with someone who couldn't support you in the moments that mattered most was taking its toll. For now, though, you just needed to let the tears fall, hoping that somehow, things might get better.

but you should have seen him when he first saw me...

The apartment in Monaco was filled with the echoes of another heated argument. You were standing in the middle of the living room, tears streaming down your face, your voice rising with each word.

"Why can't you understand, Charles? I need you to be there for me! It's always about your career, your races, your commitments! This is the grammy's! the most important awards night ever! Why can't you make time for me?!" You screamed, the frustration and pain evident in every syllable.

Charles stood across from you, his face a mixture of anger and helplessness. "I do understand, Y/N, but you know how important my career is! I can't just drop everything whenever you need me!"

Your hands trembled as you wiped away the tears. "You should have seen you when you first saw me," you cried, your voice breaking. "You looked at me like I was the most important person in the world. Where did that go, Charles?"

The memory hit Charles like a punch to the gut, sending him back to the first time he saw you. It was at the Monza Grand Prix. He had just finished his race, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, when he saw you standing near the paddock. You were talking animatedly with a friend, your smile lighting up the entire area.

Charles had stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. He remembered how his teammates teased him about looking like a lovestruck puppy, but he couldn't help it. You were captivating, and he had been instantly drawn to you.

In the present, he struggled to reconcile that moment with the reality of the argument unfolding before him. "I remember," he said quietly, his voice filled with regret. "I remember how I felt when I first saw you. But things have changed, Y/N. The demands of my career... it's not easy."

"Things have changed because you let them," you shouted, the pain in your voice cutting through him. "You let your career come between us. You promised you'd be there for me, but you're never there when I need you."

Charles took a step towards you, reaching out, but you recoiled. "Don't, Charles. I'm tired of empty promises."

He dropped his hand, feeling the weight of your words. "I don't want to lose you," he said softly, his voice breaking.

"Then start showing it," you whispered, your tears flowing freely. "Because right now, I feel like I'm losing you."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the unspoken fears and regrets that had been building between you. Charles stood there, torn between his love for you and the relentless demands of his career. And you, feeling the ache of his absence even when he was right in front of you, wondered if things would ever go back to how they once were.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, Charles turned and left the apartment, the door closing softly behind him. You sank to the floor, the tears coming harder now, the memories of better times a bittersweet reminder of what you had lost.

he saw forever so he smashed it up..

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light over the room as you and Charles lay entwined under the covers, the quiet hum of the city outside barely audible. His arms were wrapped around you, his heartbeat a comforting rhythm against your back. It was one of those rare, peaceful moments when everything felt just right.

You turned slightly to face him, your head resting on his chest. "Charles," you began softly, tracing patterns on his skin with your fingertips, "do you ever think about our future? Like, where we might be in a few years?"

Charles's hand stilled on your back, and you felt his body tense slightly. The question hung in the air, and a heavy silence settled over the room. You waited, expecting him to respond with his usual confident assurance, but instead, there was only hesitance.

"Charles?" you prompted, your voice quieter now, a hint of uncertainty creeping in.

He shifted slightly, looking away as if searching for the right words. "I... I don't know, Y/N," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The silence that followed felt deafening. You tried to hide the sinking feeling in your chest, forcing a small smile as you looked up at him. "It's okay," you said, attempting to sound light-hearted. "We don't have to figure it all out right now."

But the emptiness inside you grew, a hollow ache that his words had planted there. You cuddled closer, burying your face in his chest, hoping the warmth of his embrace could fill the void. Yet, the unspoken truth lingered, a shadow over the moment of intimacy.

Charles held you tighter, as if trying to reassure both you and himself. But the hesitation in his response, the uncertainty in his eyes, left you feeling more alone than ever. You had wanted a glimpse of a shared future, a promise of what could be, but instead, you were left with doubts and questions.

As you lay there in his arms, you couldn't shake the feeling of loss, the odd emptiness that settled over you. The love you shared was real, but the future you hoped for seemed suddenly fragile, like a dream that might slip away at any moment.

ill tell you that he runs because he loves me...

The lively buzz of conversation filled the upscale restaurant as you sat with Charles and a group of fellow F1 drivers—Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz, Pierre Gasly, and Alex Albon. The evening had started well, laughter and camaraderie flowing easily around the table.

Charles had been in good spirits, joking and sharing stories, but after the main course, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. At first, you thought nothing of it, but as the minutes ticked by, the knot of anxiety in your stomach grew tighter.

Carlos glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly. "Everything okay, Y/N?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You forced a smile, trying to appear unconcerned. "Yeah, he just went to the bathroom. He'll be back soon."

The conversation continued, but your eyes kept darting toward the hallway, hoping to see Charles returning. After what felt like an eternity, the worry and embarrassment began to creep in. You knew the other drivers were aware of the growing tension.

Lewis leaned closer, his expression kind but concerned. "Do you want to go check on him?"

You shook your head, swallowing hard. "No, it's fine. He runs because he loves me," you joked, trying to keep your voice steady. "He just needs a moment."

The table fell into an awkward silence. You could see the sympathy in their eyes, a silent acknowledgment that they understood more than they were letting on. It stung, their pity, but you held your head high, determined not to let your emotions show.

Pierre reached over, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "We know he loves you, Y/N," he said softly.

Alex nodded in agreement, though his eyes mirrored the concern you felt. "Sometimes it’s just hard to see someone we care about struggle."

You nodded, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay. "Thanks, guys. I appreciate it."

Just as you began to lose hope, Charles finally reappeared, looking slightly disheveled but smiling as if nothing had happened. He slid back into his seat beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Sorry, I took so long," he said lightly. "I got caught up talking to someone."

You nodded, leaning into him, though your heart ached with the knowledge that something was off. The rest of the evening passed in a blur, the camaraderie tainted by the lingering unease.

As you all said your goodbyes and headed home, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness. Charles held your hand, but the connection felt fragile, like a thread that might snap at any moment. The sympathy in the other drivers' eyes haunted you, a reminder that love alone might not be enough to bridge the growing distance between you.

he took me out my box...

The dim light of your bedroom lamp cast a soft glow over your face as you lay on your bed, your phone propped up on the pillow. Charles’s familiar features filled the screen, but there was a distance in his eyes that you couldn’t ignore. The nighttime quiet amplified the unspoken tension between you as you spoke quietly over FaceTime.

“So, how was your day?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Charles smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Busy, as usual. Lots of meetings and prep work for the next race.”

You nodded, offering a small smile in return. “I miss you. It feels like we haven’t really talked in ages.”

He glanced away for a moment, his attention seemingly captured by something offscreen. “Yeah, I miss you too,” he said absently, his focus clearly elsewhere.

The silence stretched, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. You studied his face, searching for the spark that had once been so evident. Your mind drifted back to a time when things were different, when his love had been your anchor.

It was a little over a year ago, at a time when you were at your lowest. The world seemed bleak, and you had felt utterly lost. Charles had been there, though, in a way you never expected. He spent every day by your side, offering comfort and support. He made you laugh when all you wanted to do was cry, held you close when you felt like falling apart. It was during those dark days that he had fallen for you, his love a beacon of hope that guided you through the storm.

You remembered the gentle way he would look at you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world. He would bring you your favorite tea, sit with you in silence when words were too much, and remind you every day of your worth and strength. It was those moments that made you fall in love with him, his unwavering presence and the way he seemed to understand your pain.

“Do you remember when we first started dating?” you asked softly, breaking the silence.

Charles’s eyes flickered back to you, a hint of confusion in his expression. “Of course I do,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”

You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I was just thinking about how much you were there for me when I was going through a tough time. You spent your days looking after me, making sure I was okay. It meant the world to me.”

His face softened slightly, a small sigh escaping his lips. “Yeah, I remember. You needed someone, and I wanted to be that person for you.”

Your heart ached at his words, knowing how far things had drifted. “I needed you then, and I still need you now, Charles. I miss how close we used to be.”

He looked at you, the conflict evident in his eyes. “I’m still here, Y/N. Things are just... different now.”

The emptiness you had been trying to ignore settled heavily in your chest. “I know. It just feels like we’re growing apart, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Charles remained silent, his gaze dropping to the floor. The connection that had once been so strong now felt fragile and tenuous.

“I love you, Charles,” you whispered, hoping to bridge the gap between you.

He looked back up at you, his expression weary. “I love you too, Y/N. I really do.”

But as the call ended and the screen went dark, you couldn’t shake the feeling of loss that lingered. The memories of better times clashed with the present reality, leaving you with a deep sense of longing for the man who had once been your everything.

im queen, of sand castles he destroys...

The tension in the air was suffocating as you and Charles stood locked in a heated argument, words flying like arrows, each one piercing deeper than the last. His face was contorted with anger, his fists clenched at his sides, and in a moment of blind rage, he reached out and grabbed the grammy award from the shelf.

"No, Charles, don't!" you cried out, but it was too late. With a violent motion, he hurled the award to the ground, the sound of shattering glass filling the room.

You gasped, the shock of his actions leaving you momentarily speechless. Tears stung your eyes as you stared at the broken pieces of your prized possession, a symbol of your hard work and dedication. Anger surged through you, hot and fierce, but it was quickly replaced by a cold, numbing emptiness.

"You... you destroyed it," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles's chest heaved with exertion, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and regret. "I don't care," he spat out, his voice dripping with venom. "I'm sick of pretending like everything's fine when it's not. I can't stand being with you anymore."

The weight of his words crashed down on you like a tidal wave, leaving you reeling in disbelief. He had shattered more than just an award; he had shattered your trust, your love, everything you had built together.

Without a word, you turned away from him, your heart heavy with grief and betrayal. You couldn't bear to look at him any longer, couldn't bear to see the man you had once loved reduced to this. With trembling hands, you reached for your phone, dialing a number you never thought you'd have to call.

"Hello?" a voice answered on the other end.

"Mom," you choked out, tears streaming down your face. "Can you come over? I need you."

As you hung up the phone, you felt Charles's eyes boring into your back, but you refused to turn around. The damage had been done, irreparable and irreversible. And as you heard him storm out of the room, you knew that this was the end.

when I fix me, he's gonna miss me...

The stage was set, the crowd buzzing with anticipation as you stood under the bright lights, microphone in hand. Your heart raced with nervous excitement, knowing that tonight would be a turning point in your career. As the music swelled and the spotlight found you, you took a deep breath and began to speak.

"Thank you all for being here tonight," you said, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. "I have some exciting news to share with you all."

The audience leaned in, hanging on your every word as you made the announcement they had been waiting for. "I'm thrilled to announce that I'll be releasing a new album," you declared, a smile spreading across your face as cheers erupted from the crowd. "And not only that, but I'll be dropping the lead single tonight."

As the excitement built to a crescendo, you couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. This was your moment, your chance to take control of your narrative and reclaim your power. With a sense of purpose, you raised the microphone to your lips once more.

"The lead single is titled 'My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys'," you announced, your voice ringing out clear and strong. "And to the boy who broke all his favorite toys and my fucking heart, this is one big fuck you from me to you."

The words hung in the air, charged with emotion and defiance. There was a collective gasp from the audience, followed by a thunderous applause that seemed to shake the rafters. In that moment, you knew you had struck a chord, tapping into a universal truth that resonated with people far and wide.

As you launched into the song, pouring your heart and soul into every word, you felt a sense of liberation wash over you. This was your anthem, your battle cry, and you sang it with a fierce intensity that left no doubt in anyone's mind that you were taking back control of your life.

And when the performance went viral, spreading like wildfire across social media and capturing the hearts of millions, you knew that you had made the right choice. You had turned your pain into power, your heartbreak into art, and in doing so, you had found a strength within yourself that you never knew existed.

a/n : thanks for reading! as always comments likes reblogs feedback etc is always appreciated 🤍

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therabbitthatpostthings · 3 days

Text

“Nanami-San is so sweet, isn’t he?” You glanced over to your coworker, Yuka. She seamlessly slid her way into the conversation you and another group of co-workers were having. She tucked a stray strand behind her ear and smiled, “Just now, he helped me fix the paper jam.”

“If only I could meet someone as kind as he is.” Mei sighed with a dreamy smile.

“Way better than the other guys here.” Nitori huffed.

“Don’t you think he’s so cool, (L/N).” Yuka smiled.

“Uh- y-yeah. Of course he is.” You replied quickly. The energy shifted in this small huddle, no one looked to have felt it except for you and…her.

“I’d bet he’d make a great boyfriend.” Yuka voice was traced with vile yet she smiled so sweetly at you and only you.

“He’d make a great husband!” Nitori smiled. “A man like that would be anyone’s dream!”

“Yeah, an equally great and gorgeous partner for someone like Nanami.” Yuka said.

Mei laughed, “Yeah you can say that Yuka because you’re already so pretty.”

“Oh my god guys, stop!” Yuka squealed as she finally took her eyes off you. The conversation faded out in your mind and it was only filled with the thought of Yuka. Yuka is so gorgeous. She had her hair lightened to a beautiful auburn color but even before she looked amazing. A youthful face with elegant eyes and long lashes. Lips always tinted pink, nails always manicured. She looked like every man’s dream. She was every man’s dream…

Yuka’s hand on your shoulder shook you out of your thoughts. “(L/N), are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m fine.” You replied, noticing the other coworkers had left.

Yuka smiled that sickly sweet smile again, “Don’t worry (L/N), if you ever confessed to Nanami, I’m sure he’d let you down easy. Plenty of fish in the sea. Even someone with your looks could find a partner.”

With the grace of a swan she left. You suddenly felt very sick.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。✫・。.・゜ ✭・.

You entered the apartment slowly and quietly. You carefully slipped off your work shoes and sat your bag down. Lightly stepping from the door to the hallway and down the hall. You knew it was no use, he definitely heard you come in but for a moment you could pretend he didn’t. Deciding you were already caught, you took a nice long shower before heading back to the kitchen.

"Did something happen at work?" Kento asked.

"No."

"Really?" He turned around to face you. His hair was ruffled and pushed back. He wore an old worn out sweater you bought him under his soft yellow apron. A welcomed sight from the stern and business oriented Nanami Kento everyone at work was obsessed with.

"I'm fine." You say plainly. He's probably be better off without me....

Kento gently pulled you into his embrace. He gently caressed up anxiously down your arms as you melted into him. His chin rested on your head, “Please tell me what happened.”

You sighed, “You came up in a conversation today. Everyone said you are so perfect, and you are! And I’m just- not…”

As much as you enjoyed your “low-key” relationship, you couldn’t help but feel jealous at how they would swoon over Kento. How they would talk about your boyfriend to you as if you meant nothing to him. Kento said he loves you and you know he does! You wanted to tell them but then you’d be the talk of the office. There is no way out of this and you started to worry if those same coworkers had more to offer him.

“You are perfect. Far too perfect than I deserve.”

“Ken, don’t say thing just to make me feel better-“

He cupped your face in his hands, “(Y/N), I think you are the most kind, patient, diligent, and compassionate person I’ve ever met. You are far more perfect than a stubborn man like me.”

You laughed as you leaned into his warm hands, “Your not stubborn Ken, you’re just headstrong.”

“Now you are saying things to make me feel better.” He leaned in to place a kiss on you forehead, cheek and lips. Your hearted swelled and all the remarks from today drifted away. Yuka may be beautiful and can desire Kento all she wants but he comes home to you everyday.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。✫・。.・゜ ✭・.

After months of back-breaking labor, you’ve finally gotten a job offer at a new office closer to your home. Meanwhile Kento had also gotten a hire role in his department. It finally felt like things were going well.

“Oh, Yuka! Would you like to catch lunch with us?” Nitori called as Yuka entered the room. She plopped down on the seat next to you.

“I guess,” she playfully sighed. “I tried asking Nanami and guess what! He said he’s eating lunch with his partner! He’s had a whole relationship for like three years now!”

“Talk about lucky.” Nitori giggled.

“Ah, so none of us stood a chance.” Mei joked.

“Are you doing anything for lunch (L/N),” Yuka smiled her sickly sweet smile. You gave her one right back.

“Actually yes, thank you for asking though.”

Before she had the chance to ask, Nanami popped his head in the door. “(Y/N), are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’m all finished.” You smiled. You grabbed you phone, making sure to savor Yuka’s shocked face and headed over to Ken. He gave you a light kiss on the head and his arm wrapped around your waist.

“Bye guys.” You waved. You knew you’d never hear the end of it when you got back but it was definitely worth it.

#shitpost #shitposting #nanami kento #jjk #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami x black!reader #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #writing fanfics at 3am #cringe-#no beta we die like men

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nu-suave · 3 days

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SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY feat. gojou satoru

word count: 1444

summary: cowboy!satoru. you have him hooked. a/n: so technically satoru is an outlaw but catchy titles negate correct terminology <3 my best friends asked me to write this. hi lana and raegan.

When Satoru first meets you, he swears you are the prettiest person he’s ever laid eyes on. You work the bar at a saloon an acquaintance urged him to visit together and all he can do is stare, watching you make drinks and chat idly with regulars and do nothing special at all, really; somehow, the world stops spinning despite that. He foolishly orders something to drink, even though he and everyone that knows a single thing about him knows he hates the stuff, and his grin is a tad too earnest, his voice a tad too loud. He’s not one to indulge in casual flings or idle romance, but he sticks around until the end of the night, avoiding his own glass and watching the people around him drink themselves into idiots.

“Is it always like this?” He asks you, desperate to talk to you.

You grin. “Most nights, yeah. People don’t usually stick around this late if they’re not looking to get pissed.” You gesture to his drink, three sips away from a full glass. “You gonna drink that?”

“Nah.” He takes his hat off, dropping it onto the counter so he can run a hand through his hair. “I’m not a fan of liquor.”

“Then what are you doing at this hour?” You ask, tone playful. “We do have non-alcoholic drinks, if you want. I can grab you a lemonade?”

He agrees, brushing fingers with yours, and your kind, distant smile is a shock on his heart.

Satoru visits more often than anyone with his dislike for alcohol should, sticking around your small town despite the idea of bigger prospects - he’s Gojou Satoru after all, the most notorious outlaw around. There’s always a bigger, brighter thing to be doing; men to rob, bounties to collect, money to launder. The brightest of all manages to be spending the night with you, tipping more than he should for a simple lemonade and idling at the counter as you work.

Funnily enough, his pathetic pining doesn’t lead to much until the day you encounter him outside your job. Some idiot starts a fight with him just on the outskirts of town, intent on taking Satoru’s head and securing the large bounty hanging over his head. It’s after he’s knocked the man out and is the middle of hopping onto his horse that you turn the corner, mouth dropping open in shock.

His sky blue eyes are bright against the meagre shade his hat provides, cheeks red from the sun and knuckles purpling from the recent encounter. The bandana he’s so partial to is pulled down around his neck, and your eyes linger on the firm set of his mouth before straying to the man before him. You recognise him as one of your regulars and, more importantly, a man of the law - though it’s hard to tell, bloody and bruised as his mouth hangs open. A thin line of drool drips onto the grass beside his head. You turn back to him in shock. “What are you doing?”

Satoru shrugs. “He started it.”

“What did you do to have an officer after you?”

“A few things.” His gaze skitters away from you. “I’m kind of persona non grata to most of the law.”

You blink, and he can tell the second it dawns on you, your hand slapping over your mouth in surprise. “You’re Gojou Satoru?”

“The one and only.” He winks. “Don’t look too surprised. I’m not that unrecognisable, am I?”

It’s the truth; you’re privy to plenty of gossip about what a pretty boy that Gojou is, but on average you like to keep your eyes and ears away from the conversations of the men that frequent your place of work. Nothing good comes out of involving yourself with them, so you’d simply… avoided most passing rumours. Sure, you’d heard the handsome, famed outlaw Gojou Satoru was hanging around town, but how were you supposed to know it was the same man that tips you double he pays and always offers to walk you home?

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you say bluntly. “Now, come on - someone will come by any minute, and I’m not getting caught up in this.”

You two run into each other more often after that. Now that the proverbial cat is out of the bag, you become subject to his blatant posturing; his smug attitude amplifies by tenfold, and whenever a fight at the saloon gets particularly out of hand, he’s the one to step in and break it up with a threatening, we’re all friends, aren’t we? How about we take this outside and sort it out? Considering you like to keep your business to yourself, you never mention the fact he’ll return with a few less people accompanying him, simply slipping him a free drink as repayment. Not that it matters, because he tips you the price anyway.

“You need to stop tipping me so much,” you declare one day as he escorts you home from work. His hands are shoved in his pockets, that godawful hat shading his head from nothing because it’s the dead of night. “I think my boss is suspecting I’ve taken on a second job of the more salacious kind.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“Uh, yeah. How do you think he’s gonna start treating me if he becomes convinced I’m working part-time as a prostitute? Not well, I’ll tell you that much.”

“If he does that, just tell me. I’ll sort it out.”

You huff. “Aren’t you nice.”

“What? I’m being serious.”

“I don’t need all this special treatment, you know?” You sigh, head tipping back to look overhead. The moon is obscured by deep, overbearing clouds - a side effect of the poor weather you’ve been suffering through. “I don’t know what about me is so interesting, but I don’t need this- this princess treatment.”

“Princess treatment?” He repeats, lips stretching wide in a smug, pleased grin. “Didn’t know you thought of it like that.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Do I?”

You send him a flat look. “Yes.”

“Maybe I just like your company.” He leans into your space, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Not many can hold the Gojou Satoru’s attention, you know?”

“Lucky me.”

“I’m serious! There’s people that’d kill to be in your position.”

“Not if they knew how trashy your personality is.” You flick the brim of his hat, the leather smooth against his fingertips. “They should consider themselves lucky they don’t have to put up with it.”

He whines your name. “You don’t mean that.”

“I mean every word that comes out of my mouth,” you tease.

“No you don’t.”

“I do so.”

“Stop talking to Utahime so much. She’s turning you against me.”

“Is she now? I think you’re turning me against yourself, trying to police who I’m friends with.” Your thumb smooths over the edge of his hat. His head tilts down to look you in the eye, the blue vibrant under the dim glow of the streetlights.

He says your name again, stretching the vowels. “You’re too mean to me.”

“Am I? Here I thought the famed Gojou Satoru could handle himself.” You snicker at the affronted look that crosses his features, swiping his hat off his head.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself.” You examine it, head cocking so you can look up at him through your lashes. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re impossible.”

“Never thought you’d be the one to say those words.” You fix the hat atop your head, squinting as it abruptly blocks most of your view. Good for when you’re out in the sun, pisspoor for when you’re walking at night. How does he even see with that thing on? Still, you turn to him. “How do I look?”

“You look fine. I-” he cuts himself off. You tilt your head back, a palm on the back of the hat so it doesn’t slip off your head. He’s grinning slowly, softening his features with delight. “You stole my hat.”

“Uh, yeah? Where’d you think I got it?”

“You stole my hat.” He repeats gleefully. “I didn’t realise you liked me so much.”

“What?” Your brows furrow for a split second before it hits you. You immediately turn your head away from him. “Oh my god. You’re impossible.”

“Am I? I’m not the one that puts on an outlaw’s hat.” His hand slides against yours, helping prevent it from sliding off. “It looks good on you.”

Your gaze flutters to him, where his features are fond and warm. God, if he isn’t the most impossible man you’ve ever met. He’s lucky you like him so much. “Good. I’d hoped it would.”

so i actually had something completely different written for this but i hated it so i started over. that's why it was posted two weeks after it was requested

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojou x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader

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sanguineterrain · 1 day

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your most recent jason fic has me in a bit of a chokehold and its bc you do so well with the dialogue and the banter!!

HONEYLOVE???#?*×& i need to be physically restrained (i appreciate your fics respectfully)

anyways, the fic has me thinking: imagine it's the same reader, but they know Jason's alive and they're back to being friends again (skipping over the drama of "YOU'RE ALIVE?!?" "yea lmao sorry ily tho") but there's this tension now. and since Jason's not working with a mask anymore (and he's slightly more vulnerable with r), it's him who gets flustered and it's r who does the flirting playful banter. maybe it ends with a kiss (˘ ³˘) ?

i'm such a sucker for a flustered Jason and there's something that tells me he gets really weak in the knees for someone he adores >:) anyways, you can always choose to write this or not but a very big, fat thank you if you do

the reaction pics are SO FUNNY i'm glad you enjoy this au <3

jason todd x gn!nocturne!reader. pt 3 of vigilante reader. this is basically reader just being feral over jason :> they speak for all of us, really. love confessions, tension, somewhat flustered jason, more sparring lols.

pt 1 / pt 2

****

Jason Todd is alive. Jason Todd is sitting two feet away, talking about a case.

You can't quite believe it. You went home two days ago and expected to wake up to the whole thing being a dream or the result of a Poison Ivy hallucinogen.

You can't stop staring at him. It's weird. You're being weird. But you can't help it.

Every time you see Jason, you want to look at him for as long as possible. You don't want to forget his face. This new face. Scarred and hardened, but still good. Still loved.

And, well. It's not like Jason's bad looking. Sure, you thought he was cute when you were teenagers. Resurrection makes the heart grow fonder, et cetera.

But now? Now, Jason makes your heart stupid. You can barely contain your desire. It's been two weeks since he revealed himself, and every time you see him, you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep yourself from showing him what he does to you.

Sometimes you think he sees right through you, but if he does, he never acts on it.

"—listening. Yo. Ground control to Major Tom. Are you with me?"

Jason waves a hand in front of you. You blink.

He's unmasked and in a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and dark jeans—the most comfortable you've seen him, actually. His hair is still wet from his shower.

"Sorry," you say, suddenly zeroed in on the three droplets of water sliding down his neck. "I'm listening. Just looking at you."

"'Cause I'm so pretty?" Jason asks, batting his lashes.

You reach over without thinking. He freezes when you wipe the water off of his neck. Then you tuck a curl behind his ear.

"You should let me blow-dry your hair," you say, taking your time in dropping your hand. "It'll take ages to dry in this humidity."

Jason's eyes have gone wide. Pink splotches bloom on the apples of his cheeks.

"Uh." He swallows. You watch his throat bob. "Thanks. Maybe... next time."

"I'll steal Dick's. He's got the fancy sixteen setting one."

That makes Jason smile. "Hm. Some things never change."

His eyes crinkle at the corners. Fondness swells swiftly in your chest.

You stay like that for a moment, caught in each other's orbit.

Jason breaks it first, leaning away. "Right. You should probably get back to the Manor. Br–the others'll probably think I kidnapped ya."

You shrug. "I quit."

"What?"

"Bruce was getting on my last nerve. I can't work with someone like that."

Jason snorts. "Join the club. Look, I can't say I'm not thrilled that you're stickin' it to the old man. But if this is 'cause of me... I wouldn't be mad if you kept workin' with him. Honest. If that's what you wanna do, don't let me stop you."

"Jason." You rest your hand atop his. "I joined this life because of you. To honor you. You taught me how to help people, not Bruce. You taught me what it meant to be kind, to be a part of something bigger than myself."

To love, you don't say.

"I..." He shakes his head. "You became Nocturne for me?"

You close your eyes, then open them. You've cried so many times. You don't want to stay in your grief any longer. Not when he's right in front of you.

"When you died, I..." You take a deep breath. "Nocturne was something to ground me. I think Bruce recognized that. I think he knew how much you meant to me. He didn't have to take a chance on me, and I appreciate that he did. But I've realized that he doesn't know everything. Can't see what's right in front of him sometimes."

You squeeze Jason's wrist. He sighs.

"God, I'm sorry," he says.

"What're you sorry for, Jay? You came back. That's all I ever wanted."

Jason chews his cheek for a moment. Then he stands, chair scraping the floor.

"C'mon," he says.

You follow him to the living room. He moves the armchair, the couch, and rolls up the rug. He disappears down the hall and returns with two thick mats. He tosses them onto the floor.

"Uh..." you say. "What're you—"

"'M gonna show you what y'did wrong that night on the roof."

"Wow. Can't believe you're still single. Being reminded of my shitty combat skills gets me so hot."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Alright, smartass. Just 'cause you quit the Bats doesn't mean you won't go out there and keep helping people. I know you. The least I can do is pick up where Dickface left off in your training."

"The least you can do, huh? I think you just wanna pin me against the floor again," you say, smirking.

He clears his throat. "That—no."

"No?" You step closer and look at him through your lashes. You're so close, you're touching his chest. "What happened to tying me up 'cause I was out when I shouldn't have been? Isn't that another educational technique?"

Jason's throat bobs. "That wasn't—I was just saying things."

"Hm. That's too bad."

You skip right past him, onto the mat, and hold out your arms.

"Okay. Put the moves on me, J.P."

It takes Jason a moment to craft his usual poker face. When he does, he groans. "'M not an evil Gilded Age financier. Still don't like 'J.P.'"

"But you like me-ee," you sing-song.

He shrugs. "Sometimes. Until you give me a heart attack and run into a burning building."

"Wish I could've seen your face for that one," you say as you steel your shoulders and secure your feet.

"Better you didn't. I'm sure there was a vein or two popping outta my forehead." Jason cracks his neck. "Ready?"

"Lay it on me, big guy."

"You first. Attack me like you normally would."

So you do. You step forward and throw a punch similar to the one from your rooftop spar. Jason catches it, of course. But this time, he locks you in a hold. One leg is between yours, and your arms are twisted behind your back with one hand. Humiliating.

"Dude!" You wiggle. Jason doesn't yield. "Jay, come on. No petty criminal is gonna know how to do all that."

"I know. The point of this is for you to know how to use someone's size against them."

Jason presses his cheek against yours. You tamp down your shiver. You can hear his heartbeat.

"Take a breath," he murmurs.

You close your eyes and breathe. Jason's grip doesn't hurt, but you're frustrated by how predictable you are. How he knows your body. A part of you is missing in not knowing him the way he knows you.

"Alright," he says. "Think. What part of me is exposed?"

"Not the important parts, I hope."

You can feel his eyeroll.

"You're hilarious. C'mon, focus. What can you attack?"

"Um... your legs. You trapped my arms, but my and your legs are free."

"Good." The praise warms you. Being this close to Jason will never get old. "What else?"

"What else? Do you have a tail I don't know about?"

"Sucha wiseass," he says, mouth close to your ear. "Your head. You're still able to move your head, and you're close to my face."

"Yeah, I'm not headbutting you. Out of the kindness of my heart."

"I appreciate that, sweets. Sweep my leg."

So you do. Jason goes down easier than he normally would for your benefit.

"'Kay," he says, once again underneath you. Now you have his hands pinned. "Good. Remember what went wrong last time?"

"You bucked me off like a Clydesdale."

He smiles. "Yeah, okay. So what'll you do different?"

"I'm not in my suit," you say. "I don't have extra weight in my boots."

"No, but you don't need it if you keep my legs apart."

"So that was your plan all along, huh? Perv."

Jason coughs. "Ah-hum... I—c'mon, lock my legs."

You grin and spread Jason's legs, using your knees to keep him immobile.

And then you just stare. This time, it's not because you're thinking about the miracle of resurrection (though what a miracle it is). No, you're just thinking, once again, about how your best friend got really, stupidly pretty.

And how you really, stupidly wanna kiss him.

Jason still looks young, but his jaw is now defined. He's got a five o'clock shadow coming on. His lips are full and pink. Freckles dot his cheeks and nose. The nose that still has a bump from when he broke it during a fight with Riddler.

You remember how he played it off for weeks. Bruce said that didn't even cry. But when you asked if it hurt, Jason had said yes.

You wonder when the last time Jason cried was. You wonder how much pain he's suffered since.

You wonder if he knows he's got your heart in the palm of his hand.

"Hey," Jason says. His voice is soft. Shy. "I lose ya again?"

You shake your head. "No. Never."

"There somethin' on my face?"

"You're a lot to look at," you say. "Pretty, pretty boy."

That gets an undeniable reaction. Jason Todd has never been able to take a compliment. You've been exploiting that all day.

Perhaps you know him better than you thought.

He exhales sharply, like you've sucker-punched him. His eyes dart to you. Waiting.

"Your eyes are green," you say. "Like, mixed. Blue and green."

Jason nods. "I—yeah. The Pit. Changed 'em. Changed me."

You lean in. His gaze flicks to your mouth. You watch his Adam's apple bob in a hard swallow.

"They're still pretty," you say. "Always had pretty eyes, Jaybird."

"Heh, right. Even with this shit?" He points to the scar that crosses over his right eye, stopping at his lip.

You let go of his wrists—not that you were holding them that tightly anyway. If this were a real fight, you would've lost ten times over already. Considering how much of you is touching Jason, you happen to be winning hard.

You trace the puckered white flesh with your thumb. Jason flinches but doesn't pull away.

"Your face could never turn me away," you say. "Never."

He closes his eyes and shudders. "Y'too nice to me. Always so nice t'me. Even when we were fighting. Why're ya so good?"

Your lips are a hair from his now. "I don't know how to make it more obvious, Jaybird. I'm absolutely insane about you."

Jason's eyes fly open. He sees your mouth and his breathing increases. You smile.

"Yeah, want you bad. No place I wouldn't follow you. Do anything for you."

Jason makes a strangled noise in his throat. You grin.

"C'mon, big guy. I'm right here. Come have me, Jay. I'm yours."

Jason soars up and kisses you. Swallows you, really. His hands hold your waist for dear life. You wrap one leg around his.

You nip his lip. Jason whines softly. Delicious.

You grab his face, fingers tangling in his curls. Jason sits up, slotting you against him. One hand supports you on your back, the other on your side.

"God—" He breaks away, just barely. "You're way too good for me. Had sucha... sucha crush on ya when we were kids. Y'so sweet."

You blindly find his throat and bite, hard enough to leave a mark. Jason makes a guh sound. You lick the bite to soothe it.

"Missed you," you say into his skin. "Missed you so goddamn bad, Jason."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," he babbles, clinging to you as you kiss up his neck. "Yeah, missed you too."

"Not letting you go," you say, almost snarling. You're angry with want, angry at the world for keeping this from you for so many years. "It's you and me now, Jay, mkay? Gonna be mine?"

"Always been yours," he says, panting. Jason finds your lips again. The kiss is messy, uncoordinated. Full of love. "No one but you."

You haven't fallen behind. You're starting anew.

"Never been anybody but you."

#Jason todd x reader #Jason todd x you #red Hood x reader #red Hood x you #Jason todd fanfiction #red Hood fanfiction #Jason todd imagine #red Hood imagine #red Hood x yn #jason todd x y/n #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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thechekhov · 2 days

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Hey Chekhov! How do you start converting an AU idea from character sheets and mini comics into a plot outline for a full, continuous comic? Especially if the series you're basing it on isn't complete?

I've been following your white diamond Steven comics for years, and frankly, I love how it builds and continues the scaffolding canon laid to be something that is thematically still the same but also very unique. And I never thought I'll ever say this, but now I'm working on a canon-divergent AU with someone that's I think aiming to do something similar(continue the themes of canon but different). So I'll just like some advice, I suppose!

You might've answered something like this before, honestly, but I tried to dig a little and couldn't really find it.

Thanks, if you do answer this! I just want take the opportunity as well to say also that your comic and blog accompanied me through parts of my late teens, and I'm very grateful for you being a stabilizing influence during that time.

Thank you! I really appreciate you saying that, and I appreciate you respecting me enough to ask for advice.

As for your question...

Well, to be frank, I don't START with character sheets and mini-comics. In fact, for WD!AU, I didn't have any character sheets until I started season 2.

Think of your story as an aquarium. Your characters are fish.

Yes, they're important, but having a whole bunch of fish without any substrate, tanks, feed and WATER..... will not really make for a memorable aquarium experience.

The reality is that all stories should start with an end.

That's my personal approach, anyway.

What I mean is - you need to know the general idea for your story before you begin to write or plan it.

Let's try this:

1.Tell me about your story in THREE sentences!

Just three. Not long ones, just regular ones.

For my AU, @ask-whitepearl-and-steven, it would be:

"A young orphan runs away from home with a mysterious lady who seems more cryptid than human. He realizes that he's not human either - he used to be the ruler of an alien planet! He and the other aliens he meets decide to (REDACTED) (REDACTED) (REDACTED) and he (REDACTED) (REDACTED) (READACTED) (READ ANDCTED) (READ AND FIND OUT)."

YOU should know how YOUR story ends too! Even vaguely.

It helps if you know at what point you plan to lay down the pencil. Because if you DO know, you are always going to know which direction to walk in, even if the end is so far away it's beyond your line of sight.

It's true that when I began WDAU, I didn't have much information about White Diamond and white Pearl, because they had literally ONLY been introduced. I had to guess a lot of the details (like WP being Pink's originally) and what White would be capable of. And thankfully, my original intent for the story's end fit pretty well with what was later revealed!

But don't forget - you could also just fuck around with stuff! It's your story, after all.

And don't forget... to also look back!

2.Tell me WHY the story is happening in the first place.

There's a reason that the beginning of your story happens when it does. If there is no reason to start somewhere, then find a different place to start.

You should be able to tell me "We're picking up the story here because something significant has happened... and that significant thing happened BECAUSE...."

That 'because' is your main background information that should be revealed slowly throughout the story. In WDAU's case, we only have a few pieces of the puzzle. We know Greg's side. He know Earl's side. But there are still little bits and pieces missing! And they're all important for finding out WHY Steven ended up an orphan and WHY he is being followed by White Pearl (Earl) at the very start of the comic!

3.Tell me what the coolest and most interesting things to happen would be....and then write them!

I think this may be something that's rarely said out loud, but I will speak on the behalf of the people...

We should write the scenes we want to read. If you don't want to read the scene you're writing, then DON'T write it!

If you feel like you "have to" do a page and a half of 'lore' because you think it's traditional to have that 'explanation' about the location of your story, or the history of the species or whatever, you're simply wrong. There are other ways to reveal information aside from just forced paragraphs upon paragraphs of information that would make an SAT Reading Section sweat.

Instead, I recommend that you find the most exciting or hilarious way for the characters to discover the most important bits of info. Find a dramatic twist. Shove it into the narrative. Then, figure out what needs to happen to get there.

Ultimately, though, remember this: When you're taking advice from me or from others, don't forget to take advice from yourself, too! It's your story, after all. You know it best, and only YOU can figure out how to get it written.

I hope that helps at least a little bit! Writing it never easy, but it should still be enjoyable!

#chekhov answers

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strangemagicc · 2 days

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pairings: Steve Harrington x plus size!fem!Reader

summary: a year-long crush come to bloom 🌼

author's note: I was inspired by Polin I will not lie. Plus-size girlies need to be worshipped like they deserve, and who better to do it than our favorite goofy jock? This is an AU - Robin and Steve stay at Scoops Ahoy. Reader and Steve are the same age.

I hope you enjoy this! Reblogs/comments always so appreciated 🧡

w/c: 5.5k

warnings: smut (fingering, oral - reader receiving), underage drinking, brief mention of drug use

“Will you just go talk to her, weirdo?” Robin shoves Steve’s shoulder with a roll of her blue eyes.

It’s been like this for months since you started working at the Orange Julius across the food court, in perfect view of a very nervous Steve Harrington.

“I can’t just go up to her,” he waves his hand flippantly in your direction and turns his contorted face in Robin’s direction.

“Why not?”

His eyes dart to the whiteboard showing his very unlucky streak and he did not want to add another strike out to the list, especially from you.

Robin follows his gaze and smirks, still standing by her assertion. Ready to tease him further but the words stop on her tongue.

Her smile grows wide when she notices you walking the short distance to the ice cream shop, arm linked with Chrissy Cunningham.

“Brace yourself, dingus.” She tilts her chin in your direction and Steve’s neck nearly snaps when he sees you approaching. He looks back towards Robin but she’s already disappeared, her laugh heard in the distance.

He straightens out his sailor uniform and shakes his head.

“‘Look like a fucking idiot,” he mumbles to himself but the sound of your melodic laugh catches his attention.

“Hey Chrissy,” he beams at the blonde, doing his best not to look in your direction.

“Harrington,” she greets in her familiar bubbly tone, eyes scanning the menu above his head.

“Who’s your friend?” He tries to seem cool, calm, casual. You’re King Steve, he reminds himself even though part of him knows that it’s far from the truth.

“Oh, this is (Y/N),” she introduces you and squeezes your arm happily. The two of you obviously close.

Steve’s eyes finally shift to you and he allows himself to take you in.

You’re even more beautiful up close. It’s the curve of your face and the plump of your lips when you smile back at him. Warm and inviting, turning Steve’s thoughts into a melted puddle of ice cream.

He repeats your name before visibly shaking his head and glancing down at the register in front of him.

“Well, Ahoy Ladies! Would you like to share this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your Captain.”

Chrissy can’t help but laugh at the inflection of his voice and the nod of his head, sailor hat a little crooked on his perfect head of hair.

Your grin matches hers, gaze tracing the freckles along his nose and just under his hazel eyes.

Steve Harrington has always been handsome, the kind of cute that made your insides a flurry of nerves and it was weird having his attention on you. Even in passing.

His cheeks turn a shade of red as he repeats his scripted words, something similar to what you’re forced to say as you shill out different variations of fruit smoothies.

“Anyone care for a scoop of Cherries Jubilee?” His voice drops a bit lower, smirk pulled down in a display of embarrassment.

“I’ll take a scoop of that, Captain,” you say and grimace at your own words but it makes him laugh.

“A scoop of Cherries Jubilee for the pretty girl and what about you Chris?” He winks at you and turns his attention to Chrissy who rambles off an order you can’t hear over the instant replay of Steve’s compliment.

Your body buzzes with warmth despite the manufactured air pumping through the mall and you try to dismiss it because if Steve is known for anything it’s for being a flirt.

He rings up your order and tells the two of you to take a seat.

“How much do I owe you?” You question as you begin to reach for your purse.

“It’s on the house,” he recites your name and it sounds pretty on his tongue.

“Thanks,” you whisper, and can feel the way that your cheeks have turned a shade darker.

You do your best not to appear affected, not to trip over your feet as you make your way to the booth that Chrissy has situated herself in. Her bright blue eyes study you with a knowing gleam as you approach.

“I think Steve was flirting with you,” she gawks and grabs your wrist before looking over your shoulder to the brunette.

“No, he was not. I mean, not seriously anyway.”

“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes. “I’ve seen Steve Harrington flirt with plenty of cheerleaders and that was serious.”

You dismiss her with a shake of your head and the two of you break apart as Steve approaches, placing your orders in front of you. An extra scoop of Cherries Jubilee spills over in your small cup and onto your fingers.

“Anything else I can get for you, Ladies?”

You lick your fingers and shake your head in response to his question but Steve is fixated. Watching as your tongue darts from behind your lips and swipes across your finger.

Chrissy begins to talk about the party tonight and asks whether Steve is going to show but he doesn’t respond. His mouth slightly agape, gaze still lingering on your pout.

“Did you hear me, Steve?”

“Sorry,” he shakes his head. Unable to come up with a good excuse for his space out. She gives him a knowing giggle but repeats herself anyway.

“I was just saying that I’m throwing a going away slash end of summer bash at mine tonight, are you coming?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” he began to decline, mind going back to the last party he attended with Nancy.

“Oh come on, Harrington. Miss College Elite here needs to go out with a bang,” she nudges your shoulder and you groan.

“I’m only going to state school because my parents are forcing me,” you remind her.

“She’s being modest,” Chrissy pretends to whisper to Steve.

“I’m not,”

“What are you going for?” Steve asks, ignoring the new line of customers that was beginning to form behind him and the way that Robin’s eyes were boring into the back of his head.

“Pre-med,” Chrissy answers for you and you want more than anything to crawl into a hole.

“Again, parents.” You grimace and Steve knows that look, that feeling that you have.

“Well, either way, we have to celebrate. Are you coming, Steve?”

“I’ll be there,” he nods. Any excuse to see you outside the walls of StarCourt and out of his stupid sailor’s uniform.

“Starts at eight, bring your friend,” Chrissy’s eyes dart to Robin and Steve knows that look.

“We’ll be there,” He nods and rapts his fingers against the table before turning back to work.

You’re uncomfortable, hands pulling at the end of the miniskirt that Chrissy has convinced you to wear. It barely conceals the curve of your ass and highlights the swell of your hips, the thickness of your thighs. You aren’t self-conscious by any means, just not used to showcasing your curvy body for the masses to see.

“Will you stop fidgeting?” Chrissy slaps at your hands playfully.

“I look ridiculous,” you respond, flustered.

“No, you look hot and Steve is going to cream his pants,” her easy giggle brings heat to your chest as the image of Harrington losing composure because of you conjures in your mind.

“As if,” you huff and reach for your eyeliner.

“You can stop pretending you didn’t see how he was watching you lick your fingers, probably imaging that it was cock,” she says the word with an exaggerated lilt of her mouth. Eyebrows wagging in your direction and you almost fuck up your eyeliner.

“I didn’t see anything, Chris. And how would you have noticed when your attention was on Buckley behind the counter?” You tease her and watch as her pale face blossoms a pretty shade of pink.

“Bite me,” she applies the last of her pink lipstick and pushes her finger between her lips, closing her pout around it before pulling it out with a large pop.

Her crush was not too secret and part of the reason the two of you regularly went into Scoops Ahoy during your short lunch period.

You watch as she pulls at the end of her hot pink dress and adjusts her cleavage until the tops of her breasts are practically spilling over the scoop neck.

The party has already started, the bass of Bruce Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark playing too loud felt beneath your feet and heard throughout Chrissy’s home.

The bash is at the Cunningham house but is hosted by Angela Leevy; co-captain of the cheer team. Well, ex-co-captain since all of you graduated over a year ago now.

By the time the two of you make it out of Chrissy’s room, the house is already filled with a haze of smoke. The air heavy with the stench of weed that makes you a little dizzy.

Chrissy grabs your hand and walks you down the stairs, leading you through the crowd of bodies towards her kitchen.

There are cases of beer lined atop the tiled counters, bottles of hard liquor already opened and red plastic cups toppled over; reached for in a rush.

She passes a cup of beer to you, the plastic filled with more froth than alcohol but you chug the amber liquid anyway. Wincing at the taste, trying to ignore all the eyes lingering on you. The attention from guys you don’t want.

This was completely out of your realm, curious eyes glancing at you as though you were something to be studied under a microscope

“I think I need to change,” you whisper in her ear as you rub an anxious hand along the soft of your stomach and she slaps your bare shoulder.

“Take a chill pill, babe. You look good, people are going to take notice.”

Your parents had a plan for you and none of them included socializing with the in-crowd. You became used to blending into your surroundings, spending the years in high school more of a wallflower and watching from the sidelines. Wearing clothes that your mom chose at Contempo Casual that looked like something your grammy would wear. It took a lot of convincing but they allowed you to take a gap year and get a summer job at StarCourt to save before you went off to college.

Chrissy was a new friend, one you’d quickly become close to during shifts draped in orange polyester. It was hard to make a girl like Chrissy look ugly but no one could pull off the tangerine shirt and brown skirt combo with a hat to match. She’d become your confidant and you hers, all of your secrets shared in the front seat of her Buick.

Like your crush on Steve.

Like her crush on Robin.

“I don’t know, Chris,” you began again, completely in your head and unable to relax.

“Speaking of which,” she spoke over the brim of her cup and pointed her gaze towards someone behind you.

You turned your head, eyes growing in surprise when Steve approached you with an easy smile. His uniform exchanged for a shirt that matched the flecks of green in his eyes and a pair of light-wash jeans that hugged him just right.

The thrum of your heart sped up as your brain tried to scream “Relax!”

“You made it,” Chrissy beamed behind you, ever-bubbly. Perhaps more so because behind Steve was Robin. Her freckled cheeks were painted a pretty shade of red, blue eyes highlighted by mascara. Sailor's outfit replaced with a striped t-shirt and a pair of shorts that accentuated the length of her legs.

“Thanks for the invite,” Robin spoke up above the music and you could feel the warmth of Chrissy’s nervous giggle on the back of your neck.

“Do you want something to drink?” You ask them, unsure of why you were playing hostess in someone else’s house.

“Sure,” Steve nods and you turn toward the counter to grab them each a can.

Steve’s eyes quickly avert when you turn back toward him, his neck red and splotchy. His hand playing with the hem of his shirt nervously.

You hand each of them their drinks and the four of you stand in a heavy silence as you smooth your hands over your skirt once again wondering if it was too much, if Steve thought it was too much.

“Should we play a game?” Chrissy asks suddenly and everyone turns to her.

“A game?” Robin asks and your friend nods her head eagerly.

“Spin the bottle? Seven Minutes in Heaven?”

“Seven Minutes in Heaven?” you ask incredulously. You thought you had avoided all of the awkward school party shenanigans. The truths and dares that could reveal parts of you that you wanted to keep secret.

“There’s only four of us,” you continue.

“But there’s a houseful of people I’m sure would love to play,” Chrissy eyes you because this was as much a chance for her as it was for you.

You remain quiet, a silent agreement but more for her sake than yours. Inside, your mind is screaming.

“Are you two going to play?” Chrissy asks them and they both nod, ears going a shade of red.

“Billy!” She yells over the crowd and he looks at her with a mischievous glint in his eye. He pushes his way through the swarm of bodies, date clinging to his jean jacket. Her bottle blond hair in slight disarray.

“Cunningham,” he greets but doesn’t introduce the girl standing at his side.

“We’re going down to the basement to play some games, you wanna join?”

“Who’s we?”

His blue-gray eyes look you over, remaining focused on the swell of your breasts and you move to cover your chest.

“Me, Robin, Steve, and of course the guest of honor,” she points at you.

“Sounds rad.” His voice lacks enthusiasm and his attention doesn’t move from you.

“Should we get a few more people?” you question, wanting to lessen the chances of winding up in a small space with Hargrove.

“Is there someone special you were looking to maul, babe?” You don’t like the way the nickname sounds on his lips.

“Just thought it’d be fun with more people.”

“Well I know Eddie will play, maybe Angela and a few of the other girls too. We can also get some guys who were on the basketball team, right Billy?”

“Yeah,” he agrees and takes a swig of his beer.

You nod as though you’re listening but there’s a whooshing sound in your ear, a stutter in your heartbeat, and nausea creeps its way into your center.

And before you know it, you’re in the middle of a crowd surrounding a bottle in Chrissy’s basement playing a combined version of Spin the Bottle and Seven Minutes in Heaven.

It feels like there are too many eyes on you, and you can feel the weight of Billy’s eager ones as he approaches the bottle.

You pray to whatever god that it doesn’t land on you.

Please, please, please.

You release a sigh when it doesn’t, some other unlucky partygoer forced into a dimly lit closet with him.

There’s another seven minutes between you and whoever you end up in the closet with.

Steve watches you from across the way, his mossy greens studying the nervous bounce of your foot.

He hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off you all night, taken aback by your change in attire. All night it had felt like something was sitting on his chest, constricting whenever he glanced your way.

You look beautiful, your curvy frame hugged perfectly by your denim skirt and black tube top. He imagined how soft your skin felt, the way your hips would feel pressed underneath his fingers if given the chance to touch you.

In his daydream, he doesn’t hear Leevy say his name and doesn’t notice that everyone’s attention has turned to him including yours.

Your gaze fights to keep his, unable to maintain the weight of the charged contact.

“Earth to Steve! It’s your turn,” Angela repeats in a gruff of annoyance.

He lets out a strained sound, shaking his head once again and you can’t help but smile despite the way your nerves are working overtime.

Steve leans over, his wide, tanned hand gripping the bottle and spins it. Eyeing it, willing it to land on you.

The crowd lets out a low whistle, no giggle louder than Chrissy’s when the bottle lands directly on you.

Steve has to contain his excitement but it's evident in the bright shine of his eyes as he meets your gaze. He quickly stands and extends his hand toward you to help you up from your position on the floor.

“You know the rules, you two! Seven minutes, whatever you want, but you can’t come out a second sooner.”

Steve hasn’t let go of your hand, the warmth of his body spreading throughout yours as he leads you to the closet Billy and Heidi just left.

The closet is small, pushing the two of you together until your chests brush. You can barely make out the outline of his sculpted jaw in the darkness, the light from the distant party barely casting a yellow glow through the slots in the door and into the space.

Time stretches on in silence and you begin to wonder if Steve regrets this, regrets the bottle landing on you.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he states suddenly and you shake your head before you remember that he can’t see you.

“It’s not that,” you whisper, realizing your hand is still clasped in his.

“Wish it was someone else?” He laughs awkwardly.

And you feel awful, guilt creeping in when you realize how he must feel.

“I’ve uh,” you gulp, “never been kissed.”

You shrink away in embarrassment, thankful that Steve can’t see how your cheeks darken and your face contorts in shame.

“Oh?” He questions with surprise.

“Not like a good kiss, you know? I don’t think a peck counts.” You quickly tell him, not wanting to seem like a total loser.

“It doesn’t count if you don’t want it to,” he promises and squeezes your hand in an attempt to be reassuring.

You slip back into silence and you’re not sure what to say, unsure of how to get Steve to kiss you. There’s a fight between your head and your heart, the words on the tip of your tongue and fighting their way out of your mouth.

“I wanted it to be you,” you whisper, suddenly brave.

Your heart rate quickens, eyes bulging at your sudden confession. Lips loosened from the beer. You can’t see the way Steve beams at you.

“Is that true, pretty girl?”

“I-it’s true,” you stammer as Steve crowds your space, the smell of spearmint on his lips.

“Wanna know a secret?” He asks you, fingers dragging along your arm until he cups your face.

You nod in response, unable to form a sentence.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks,” he admits.

He leans closer, nose dragging along yours. The smell of his cologne makes you a little dizzy as you hold onto his waist for stability.

Your lips press against Steve’s, slow and hesitant at first as you commit the curve of his lower lip to memory. Exhilaration courses through your veins and your mouth parts slightly, allowing his tongue to slip against your own.

The kiss is no longer hesitant but needy.

He pushes against you and you stumble into the small shelf, still not pulling away despite the crashing of cleaning bottles around you. Your lungs ache for air as the kiss continues; heavy breaths shared and combined heartbeats thudding loudly.

Steve’s free hand pushes against the hem of your shirt, fingers pushing underneath and pressing into your stomach. Just as soft as he imagined and he yearns to feel more of you.

A loud knock separates you, chests heaving and looking for whoever interrupted.

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” Angela throws open the closet door, not allowing either of you a moment to straighten out your appearance.

In the light, you can see your red lipstick smudged against Steve’s lips and his shirt wrinkled. Both of you in a state of disarray.

“Look who got hot and heavy,” Angela announces causing the crowded basement to hoot at the two of you.

Embarrassment clings to you but Steve grabs your hand, leading you through the mass of people whose eyes are glued to the two of you and up the stairs.

You look around for Chrissy but she’s nowhere in sight, neither is Robin and for a moment you forget the hot embarrassment that clings to you. Wondering where they may have snuck off to.

The squeeze of Steve’s hand brings you back to the present just as the warm night air greets you.

You look around Chrissy’s neighborhood, at the sprawling yards stretched outside the large daunting houses. Not ready for the night to end but unsure of what to say.

“Wanna go on a night swim?” He suggests and you look up at him, fighting the smile that threatens to spread at the smudge of red lipstick along his mouth. Your hand itches to reach up and wipe it clean.

“I think Chrissy’s pool is either full of people or full of puke by now,” you giggle and he relishes in the sound.

Steve pulls you closer, resting your joined hands on the curve of your back and just above your ass. His face inches from yours.

“We can go to mine? I just live a few houses down.” He tilts his head to the side and you're lost in all the details of him.

The sharp slope of his nose, the freckles that dot his skin, and the curve of his cupid’s bow. Impossibly cute, the kind of cute that made your knees wobbly.

“I’d like that,” you manage to say and allow him to lead you towards his house.

Steve opens his front door and pulls you through the threshold into the darkness. The large home is quiet, almost nerve-wrackingly so, and you wonder if his parents are asleep somewhere upstairs.

“Anyone home?” You ask quietly, voice barely above a whisper in case someone is.

“No, they hardly are,” he responds and switches on a light as he walks towards the living room.

His house is big and just as decorated as Chrissy’s. All the furniture is new, every design in the latest fashion and you only know this because your mom is always begging your dad for an upgrade. New curtains or new upholstery. Something to bring it out of the seventies.

“You have a really nice house,” you compliment and he shakes his head.

“Not my taste, too stepford wives.” And you can tell what he means by how orderly everything is, how everything has a space or a label. No dust coating the tv or pillow out of place.

Steve stops in front of the expansive kitchen and drops your hand for the first time since you left Chrissy’s. Immediately you feel the loss, the cold air conditioning brushing against the skin where his palm used to be.

“Want a beer?”

You nod your head and lean against the counter watching as he reaches into the fridge and grabs two before rounding the counter, tilting his head toward the sliding glass door that leads to his deck.

You follow him back into the warm night air, goosebumps sprouting at the temperature change.

His yard is huge, bigger even than Chrissy’s. The wooden deck takes up a good portion of it, surrounding the large pool with loungers along one half. Large maple trees are sprouted along his tall fence, offering privacy.

You step towards the pool, watching the tops of the water ebb against the tile walls under the dim glow of the porch light. You take a deep breath, the air smelling of chlorine and the faint scent of a nearby rose bush.

Steve places the drinks on a side table between two loungers, watching you lose your sandals and dip a toe into the pool. Grinning when you let out a squeal at the frigid temperature.

“Too scared?” Steve teases and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the muscled expanse of his tanned skin. You swallow hard and look away, skin suddenly tingling with warmth.

“As if. Last one in is a rotten egg, Harrington.” you tease and begin to quickly pull your clothes off, revealing your cherry-red bra and matching panties.

Steve short-circuits, cock twitching at the sight of you on display for him and it’s only when the cool water of your cannonball splashes him that he comes back to life.

“Looks like you’re the scared one, Stevie,” you continue to tease when your head breaks through the water and find him still standing in the same spot.

Despite his usual distaste for the nickname, he knows he’ll always make an exception for you.

Harrington pushes off his socks and jeans, quickly jumping into the pool before you get a chance to really get a good look at him. The water splashes over your head and you shriek once more, pushing water back in his direction as he resurfaces.

“‘M not scared,” he finally answers as he swims towards you.

“But you are a rotten egg,” you quip.

“Only because you cheated,” he smirks and stops swimming as he approaches you.

Steve reaches for your waist and places a wide hand against the supple skin.

“How did I cheat? You already had your shirt off,” you poke at his chest.

Steve walks you toward the shallow end of the pool until your back hits the tiled wall and he holds you there. Amused gaze dancing between your eyes and lips.

You wrap your arms around his neck, eager to repeat what happened behind closed closet doors.

“I was distracted,” he brushes his nose against yours just like before and your breath catches in your throat. But he doesn’t kiss you yet.

“Did I distract you?” You press him with a raise of your brows.

The energy is electric, a current buzzing between the two of you.

“Can you blame me?” His hands begin to run up your torso, fingers running over the curve of your stomach and stopping just below your ample breasts.

“You’ve had me so distracted, honey. Can’t even scoop ice cream cos my mind is on you.”

He skims his lips over your cheek and presses them to your neck; trailing them further down as you tilt your head, a silent plea for more and he rewards you with a swipe of his tongue, softly sucking at the sensitive skin.

Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, a low moan spilling from your lips.

“So beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, fingers edging under your bandeau bra. He leaves a trail of electricity wherever he touches and your body begins to feel like a livewire.

“Is this okay?” He questions and you kiss him in response, desperate to taste him again.

He lets out a surprised groan but doesn’t miss a beat, the press of his lips matching yours. Mouths fervent with want, a starving need consuming each of you.

His teeth graze your bottom lip pulling it between his with a soft suck, eliciting another moan from you. Steve’s fingers push further under your bra, grazing the bottoms of your breasts but you need more.

You reach between your bodies and push your top down, allowing it to settle along the swell of your stomach.

“Holy shit,” Steve pulls away from you with a slack jaw, raising a hand to cup one of your tits in his palm. Pinching a taut nipple between his fingers.

You mewl and tug at his hair, hips bucking forward.

He looks at you with kiss-swollen lips and half-hooded eyes.

All at once, your legs are wrapped around his waist and your chests are pressed together. There was something erotic about the feel of his coarse chest hair rubbing against your nipples.

You begin to grind against him, his budding arousal straining in his boxers and pressing against your panties. His lips were a frenzy against yours, wet tongue sliding across your own. Swallowing your sighs as you continued to buck against him.

His fingers begin to push under your panties as he holds you against him, meeting each swirl of your hips with a pump of his own.

“Can I touch you?” He gruffs against your mouth and you nod feverishly.

His hands wander further into your cotton underwear and you jump at the first touch of his fingers against your slick folds, a shudder working through your body as you anticipate where his fingers will wander next.

He pushes a finger along your slit, groaning when he realizes how worked up you are. Steve drags his digit up your folds and rubs a circle along your clit. You still, eyes rolling at the sensation as you grip his shoulders; breaking from his kiss with a loud moan.

Steve continues to rub a finger against your sensitive bud, bucking beneath you. His full arousal pressed into your ass.

You whine when he pulls his hand away and he gives you a satisfied smirk.

He begins to lift you out of the pool and onto the tiled edge, your legs hanging over the side.

“W-what are you doing?” You stammer, eyes darting around his yard. Thankful for the privacy fences that conceal your naked breasts.

“I want to taste you,” he whispers against your mouth and positions himself between your legs, hands already pulling at your panties.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you lift your ass and watch him toss the red fabric on top of your discarded clothes.

His gaze never breaks contact with yours, watching you as he lowers himself and hooks your legs onto his shoulders.

He presses a trail of kisses along your thick thigh, biting at the skin as he edges closer to your dripping pussy. His nose nudges the sensitive skin, inhaling your sweet scent. Cock jumping in his boxers. His tongue swipes along your folds, your musk tasting like chlorine and something sweeter.

Steve buries his face into your pussy, tongue darting in and out of your sopping cunt. Moaning as your arousal coats his tongue. His nose hits your clit just right and you jump at the sensation, hands curling into his hair to hold him there.

You tilt your head back and stare at the night sky, trying to count stars to slow your thudding heart. A familiar feeling begins to wash over you and settle into your stomach. Like a rubber band pulling back and ready to snap.

Your whine is sharp, loud when he moves his tongue from your entrance and begins to suck on your clit. He pushes a thick finger at your weeping center, slowly stretching you over his digit until he’s knuckle-deep. Finger curling against your spongy center; a spot you were never able to reach on your own.

His name is on your lips as his tongue flicks against your bundle of nerves, sending you closer to the edge and he inserts another digit inside you. Pumping his fingers deep into your cunt, the sound of splashing water and the lewd sound of your dripping pussy filling the air.

“Steve, I’m going to cum,” you buck under him and he groans, never slowing his pace.

The edge of your vision turns hazy and you squeeze your eyes shut as the orgasm washes over you. Your legs push together and hold Steve’s head in place, his free hand reaches for yours. Twining his fingers between your own as he buries his face deeper, licking up your release.

Your legs loosen their grip, shaky and heavy as you come down from your orgasm.

Steve swipes his fat tongue along you once more and begins to pepper kisses up your thigh to the soft of your stomach.

You sit up and look at him with blissed-out eyes, pushing your hands into his wavy brunette hair as he helps you back into the water.

His lips are back on you, the taste of your release still on his tongue as it darts over yours. You tug at his hair and swallow the groan that escapes him.

“Can I take care of you?” You kiss along his jaw, your question muffled by his skin and you feel how he swallows hard.

A wave of embarrassment washes over Steve and he pulls away from you, gaze downcast. You run a hand over his chest and down his abdomen.

“I kind of already finished,” he admits and your hand stops its descent.

“But I-I didn’t-” you begin.

“Yeah,” he breathes and runs his mouth over your cheekbone. “I couldn’t help it, I mean look at you.”

He runs an affectionate hand along your waist and goosebumps re-emerge along your arms. Your eyebrows raise involuntarily at his words, heart working overtime not to pump out of your chest. Surprise is evident in your gaze and he smirks.

“So fucking pretty, honey,” he whispers and kisses your cheek, holding you close to him.

“There’s always next time,” you offer and hope there is a next time.

“Next time,” he agrees, his smirk spreading wide at the promise of another night with you and his lips crash back into yours.

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natjennie · 3 days

Text

I was thinking about how some people have found junior year to be kind of mmm lackluster because the bad kids just kind of. win every fight like it's nothing so that's not interesting. which is a totally valid and understandable position to take. but the more I thought about it I kind of landed on the fact that that might be the point. they're good at fighting. they're good at investigating mysteries and they're good at combat and they're good at magic. they've been training for it for 2 years. but yknow what they're not good at? yknow what they did struggle with this season? being teenagers. being teens in junior year of high school.

gorgug worked his ASS off to figure out how to combine rage and artificing, and everyone told him he couldn't. kristen's god has been dead and she's been desperately struggling to hold on to her because it's the one thing keeping her from a breakdown. also she's failing out of school. fig was on the verge of expulsion, she misses her girlfriend, she doesn't know who she is. and she finds her path back to herself with her music, her passion. adaine was poor and unable to complete school assignments because of expensive materials and struggled to find a job and hid the fact that she needed help from the people supporting her because she didn't want to look weak. fabian has faced incredible loneliness and abandonment from his family and friends, gilear and hallariel being gone and gorgug quitting bloodrush. he's worked so hard to be popular at school to try to bolster kristen's campaign but he's still so lonely. and don't even get me started on riz. he's running himself ragged taking on the stress of his friends to make sure they're all succeeding while not leaving a moment for himself. he's joined every extracurricular he's running between responsibilities, always working always nervous always frazzled. and he's still scared deep down of the inevitability of that school for solo adventurers.

and this all makes so much sense with it being junior year! at least in america, junior year is the time you buckle down, you focus on school, you work yourself to the bone, you have no free time, you're on the edge of losing your friends, you don't know what to do. and the downtime system illustrated that perfectly. what do you prioritize. when can you ever relax. the stress and the rage builds and builds. and they overcame that. so I hesitate to believe that junior year didn't have stakes. they just weren't the same stakes we were used to seeing in the other seasons. sure they dominated in combat but don't forget how hard they had to work in every other facet of their lives.

#yknow what i mean??#fantasy high #d20 #dimension 20 #fhjy

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dumbobsessivebitch · 2 days

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can you do something for Kate where reader is a nerd and acedemic weapon???? like she’s always locked in and she’s also the manager for the team so kate is infatuated by how perfect reader is and doesn’t think that reader is gay because reader is really girly??

DON'T MENTION IT - KATE MARTIN

The soft hum of the overhead lights in the basketball gym was the only sound breaking the silence as Y/N worked at her laptop. The team had just wrapped up practice, and the players were trickling out, their laughter and chatter slowly fading into the background. Y/N, the team manager, was focused on updating the team’s stats and schedules. Papers were scattered around her as she continued typing away.

Kate had always admired Y/N. She was the perfect combination of brains and beauty – she maintained impeccable grades while efficiently managing the team’s needs. Despite her bright, bubbly demeanor and her obsession with in pastel sweaters and floral skirts – Kate had never thought that Y/N might like girls. It seemed too good to be true.

Earlier that day, during practice, Kate had noticed Y/N looking more stressed than usual. She was usually so composed, but today, her movements were hurried as she did 20 things at the same time. Caitlin had noticed too.

"Is she okay?" Kate murmured to Caitlin, her eyes fixed on Y/N, who was frantically flipping through her notes.

Caitlin smirked, nudging Kate with her elbow. "Someone’s got it bad, huh?"

Kate blushed, rolling her eyes. "I'm serious, Caitlin. She looks really stressed out."

"Yeah, I noticed," Caitlin admitted, her tone softening. "But it’s cute how worried you are. You should just talk to her, you know."

Kate sighed, watching as Y/N ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "I know. I just don't want to make things worse."

"Trust me," Caitlin said, giving Kate a reassuring pat on the back. "You won’t. She could probably use a friend right now. And maybe more than that."

As the last of her teammates left, Kate lingered by the door, pretending to check her phone. She glanced up to see Y/N still engrossed in her work, her shoulders hunched with tension. Something in her posture seemed off, she usually seemed so confidence and sure of herself.

Concerned, Kate approached quietly. "Hey, Y/N, are you okay?"

Startled, Y/N looked up, her eyes wide. "Oh, Kate! I didn't realize anyone was still here. Yeah, I'm fine, just a bit overwhelmed with all this work."

Kate moved closer, noting the tear tracks on Y/N's cheeks. "It doesn't look like just a bit. Do you want to talk about it?"

Y/N's façade crumbled, and she buried her face in her hands. "I'm so embarrassed. I should be able to handle this, but it's too much sometimes."

Without hesitation, Kate sat down next to her, placing a comforting hand on her back. "Hey, it's okay. You do so much for us and keep everything running smoothly. It's okay to feel overwhelmed."

Y/N looked up, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I just don't want to let anyone down. I feel like I have to be perfect all the time."

Kate's heart ached for her. "You don't have to be perfect, Y/N. You're already amazing. We all appreciate everything you do. You’re allowed to have a moment."

Y/N sniffled and managed a small smile. "Thanks, Kate. I don't know what I'd do without you guys."

Kate's hand moved from Y/N's back to gently cup her cheek. "We don't know what we'd do without you either." Her voice softened, and she added, almost hesitantly, "You know, you're incredible, Y/N. More than you realize."

There was a charged silence between them as Y/N processed Kate's words. Slowly, she leaned into Kate's touch, her eyes searching the taller girl's face. "Really?"

"Really," Kate whispered, her breath hitching as she leaned in closer. Their lips met in a soft kiss, both of them melting into the moment, all of Y\N's stress and worries disappearing in a second.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N's cheeks were flushed, but she was smiling genuinely for the first time that evening. "Thank you, Kate. For everything."

Kate grinned, leaning down to kiss the girl again "don't mention it"

A\N : I tried my best I hope you guys like it!

#kate martin x reader #kate martin #wnba #kate martin fluff #this is my first time writing for Kate pls be nice

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cherry-holmes · 2 days

Text

REGRET

(Javier Peña x F!Reader)

Credits of the gif on the image.

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Finding out you’re pregnant create a split between you and Javier. He soon will discover that one can regret they own words.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: +3k

Warnings: Writer prefer to not give details to prevent spoilers. Read under your own responsibility.

A/N: Hello👋🏻 This is a little something that came to my mind when a saw this gifs last week🧍🏻‍♀️ Let me know in comments if you like it👀

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Javier and you have been dating for a year and a half now. It started as something casual. You were just neighbors, then you used to talk about the weather when you crossed paths in the building. Then, he invited you for a drink, and you ended up in his bed.

He told you he was a DEA agent, and you talked about your community service as an English teacher in Bogotá.

Javier was funny and charming. He always treated you like a princess and fucked you like a slut. He was attentive, but he worked a lot. You never seriously talked about what exactly you were, but you spent much more time at his place than yours. He hadn't given you a key, precisely, but he told you he had a copy on top of his door so you could enter when you arrive and he was still at work. He picked you up from the school, and you cut his hair when needed.

Life had been busy, and you never really stopped to ask him if your relationship had a label. The truth is, neither of you had actually stopped and asked each other what would come next when he caught Escobar and/or you finished your community service.

You never thought about it, until that damn morning.

"Fuck."

It can't be happening. Two lines on a pregnancy test were the last thing you needed. You looked at it for a long, long time, trying to process what was going on. You wanted a blood test to confirm, but there's a reason why you already took a pee test. Morning sickness and a delay in your period activated the alarms. You hadn't told Javier anything yet, but it was only a matter of time now.

That afternoon you went to the laboratory, and by noon you received a phone call confirming the results. You were, indeed, very pregnant. After you hung up the phone, you cried a lot. How were you going to tell Javi? What would you do with your job? What were you going to tell your parents? Did you really want to have it... him/her?

You felt the urgency to make a decision in that very moment. Javier was going to ask you when you told him, and you knew he hated the "I don't know."

It took you one, two, three hours, and you had an answer. You knew it was the right one because you thought it would take you a lot longer to decide. But when your heart landed in the same place over and over so quickly, you simply knew it.

Javier came home late at night, but earlier than usual. He looked tired and pissed, and he let his weight fall on the kitchen chair to devour what you had made for dinner. You looked at him the entire time, and the nervousness in your chest made it impossible to eat anything. You wanted to tell him. You couldn't contain the news any longer.

"Javi," you began. He didn't look at you for more than a second before his sleepy eyes fell on his plate again. "I have something to tell you. It's very important."

"What is it, babe?" he asked, his voice slurred.

"I..." You fought the lump in your throat, encouraging yourself to tell him. "I'm pregnant."

Until that moment, you didn't know what you expected. You didn't imagine him crying with emotion and jumping around the apartment, screaming to the four winds that he was going to be a dad. But you didn't imagine what his real reaction would be, either.

Javier didn't even look at you. He dropped his fork, leaned back in his chair, and passed his hands over his face. It wasn't a surprised, emotional reaction. He was pissed. He was cursing the situation.

You didn't say anything as you felt your heart and soul sink into your stomach. Disappointment washed over you as you saw his reaction. You tried to think of something else to say, but you went blank.

"We can't," he finally said, really looking at you for the first time that night.

"What do you mean we can't?" your voice was only a whisper.

He looked at you like you were crazy. "You're not seriously thinking about having it."

Your mouth went dry, but tears welled up in your eyes. "Well... I do."

Javier's face hardened. "It's not safe, not with what I do, not with Escobar still out there."

"We can figure this out together," you said, your voice quivering. "I-I know this country is dangerous and this is probably not the right time, but is already happening and I..."

"Are you sure you're...?" he began. It hurt you the fact that he couldn't even say it.

You stood up and reached for your purse. He saw you as you placed both the pee and the blood test in front of him.

"Puta madre." Javier stood up, pacing the kitchen. "Did you take the pills?" he demanded.

You nodded. "I do. But they're not a hundred percent effective."

He ran his fingers through his hair in an almost desperate gesture. "I can't do this. Parenting is not on my plans, and you know it."

"I didn't want this to happen either, Javier, and I'm sorry," you said, trying not to cry. "But you need to people to make a baby. So, we have to figure this out together."

"Don't complicate things more," he added. He made his way to the living room, pacing like a caged animal. "Think about the consequences. I can't risk my focus on this job for this."

Tears streamed down your face. "So, what? You want me to get rid of it?"

"I think it's the best option for both of us."

After a long, cold moment of silence, you shook your head, stepping back. "I can't believe you."

He sighed heavily, looking away. "You don't understand... it's too dangerous."

"I don't care," you cried. "I'm gonna have this baby. With or without you."

He sighed. He saw the determination on you. Now he needed to make a decision, since you're not going to change yours.

"Ok," he said finally. "It will happen, but you need to go back to the States."

"No," you sentenced. Javier couldn't believe your stubbornness. "I'm not going to leave, either. I can't leave the school. Those kids need my help."

He was doing his best to not completely lost his patience and say something (more) that he could – and will – regret.

"I can't concentrate on my job and take care of a pregnant woman," he sentenced, adding your name at the end in a way you had never heard before.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "Well, then don't worry about me. I can handle this on my own."

Javier stared at you, his eyes dark with frustration. He thought of his parents. They didn't raise a man who shirks responsibility, one who doesn't own the consequences of his actions.

For a long moment, the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall. Finally, Javier sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"No," he said. "If that's what you want, fine. You'll have my financial support, but that's all. As soon as you finish your community service, you'll go back home. I'll send you money, that's it."

"I don't want anything from you, Javier. Not if you're not going to do it with real love," you whispered, heartbroken.

Javier's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. He turned away, staring at the wall, his hands clenched into fists.

He looked down, unable to meet your gaze. "I never saw myself as a dad. I don't think I ever will," he admitted. "That's all I can offer. I'm sorry it's not what you expected. I'm sorry I can't be the man you need."

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Days turned into weeks, and your relationship with Javier seemed to be stuck in a constant struggle of awkward interactions and avoiding each other. He started working even later, and sometimes he didn't even spend the night at the apartment. He came back the next morning smelling like whiskey and cigarettes. When he did sleep at home, he took the couch while you slept on his bed. When you woke up in the morning, he wasn't there.

Both of you finally reached an agreement. You recognized that you needed his help, and he was aware that he had to be responsible for the situation. You moved in with Javier so you wouldn't have to waste money paying rent. Moreover, you would return to the US when you were seven months pregnant. He would conclude his duty in Colombia however long it took. Neither of you wanted to talk about what would happen then.

Your belly was now thirteen weeks along. Soon, Javier found his place filled with baby stuff. Every day he discovered something new you had bought: tiny clothes, maternity clothing, maternity books. His bathroom smelled like the body cream you used to apply on your belly, and there was a list of pregnancy-friendly foods hung on the refrigerator. He could tell you were putting your heart into preparing for the baby, and at times he felt guilty for not being able to find his own paternal instinct.

On the contrary, you were caught in a fragile rhythm. He continued his dangerous work, and you dedicated yourself to your work at school.

Nights were still lonely, but at least you had your baby. You talked and sang to them. You applied anti-stretch mark creams to your belly, and read everything about babies and labor. You were excited to meet your baby boy or girl, but sadly, at the same time, you felt heartbroken because you loved Javier, and you wished he was more present during the process. However, you had to accept that it wasn't mutual. He didn't love you; he never truly did and probably never would. He just liked to fuck. You should have known it before. Maybe you did, but you were so in love with him that you thought you could change him. Either way, it was too late now.

Javier gave you more money than you needed to cover everything you needed. He never said no when you told him you needed medicine, to pay for a doctor's appointment, or special food that didn't provoke nausea.

But he never went to those appointments with you. He never asked how they went, either. He never showed any interest in the progress of your pregnancy. It was as if he had completely detached himself from the situation, leaving you to navigate the journey alone.

Or at least, that was how you saw it. The truth was, Javier was having a difficult time processing the fact that he would be a father. He had never seen himself getting married, let alone having children.

Furthermore, there was something terrifying about having a baby in Colombia during the war he was fighting. He had witnessed men fall, leaving widows and orphans behind.

He realized that he was more scared of leaving you and his child alone in this chaotic and unfair world if something happened to him. Or worse, he feared that you have to pay for his sins and mistakes. He couldn't bear the thought of that, and he often had nightmares about losing you both.

He didn't know how to express his feelings for you. He couldn't let himself relax and just settle into the nest with you.

One of those nights, when he decided to come home earlier after work, he found you sleeping in bed. You had an open book beside you on a page about what to expect during the second trimester. You had fallen asleep in an awkward position, so he had to gently wake you up to help you move into a more comfortable one. You mumbled in your sleep, calling his name softly and sweetly. Javier felt warmth in his chest, a need to cuddle with you, touch your belly for the first time, and hold you and the baby close.

But he just couldn't do it. He didn't know why, but he couldn't. He limited himself to tucking you in with a warm blanket and opening the window for fresh air, as you liked it. He went to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and put it on your nightstand because he knew you got thirsty in the middle of the night.

Javier observed you for a moment, peacefully sleeping, carrying his baby. He missed your soft lips and your fingers in his hair. He missed making you laugh and talking to you about each other's days. And now, he longed to make things right and try to win your heart back.

Tomorrow, he said. Turning down the lights, he went to his place on the couch.

But tomorrow was too late.

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He left early in the morning to attend an emergency meeting at the Embassy. Steve spend all morning complaining about Messina and the tie-and-suit motherfuckers, but Javier's thoughts were on you.

He was lost on his own thoughts, trying to find the right words to tell you. He was still scared, but he was determined to try. To make it work.

He was on his desk, a report on his hands but he wasn't reading it, when his landline rang.

"Peña," he picked up.

"Is this Javier?" a woman's voice asked urgently.

"Who's this?"

"This is María from the school," she said. He immediately knew something was wrong. He barely remembered María, you had presented each other last year on your birthday.

"There's been an emergency," she continued explaining, anguish filling her voice. "She's been taken to the hospital."

Javier's heart dropped. "Is she okay?"

"She collapsed in class. They think it might be related to her pregnancy. You need to get to the hospital as soon as you can."

Javier didn't waste a second. He grabbed his jacket and bolted out of the Embassy, ignoring Steve's confused shouts. The drive to the hospital was a blur, his mind racing with fear.

What happened? You were fine last night... Didn't you? He felt a pang of guilt. What if you didn't felt well but you didn't say anything because you thought he would be mad? Fuck... He should be more available for you. You should trust him.

When he finally arrived at the hospital, he rushed to the reception desk, asking for your name. The nurse nodded and directed him to the emergency room. His heart pounded as he approached the doors, dread settling in his stomach.

He found you lying on a hospital bed, pale and hooked up to monitors. The doctor was speaking to a nurse nearby. Javier's throat tightened as he stepped closer.

The doctor noticed him and approached. "Are you related?"

"Yes, how is she?" Javier asked, his voice shaky.

The doctor sighed. "I'm sorry to inform you, but she lost the baby. There was nothing we could do. It was a miscarriage."

Javier felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him. He looked at your unconscious form, tears welling up in his eyes. "Can I see her?"

"Of course, but she's sleeping right now," the doctor said gently. "She's stable now, but you had to sedate her. This has been very traumatic for her."

Javier nodded and moved to your bedside. He took your hand in his, feeling the weight of his own failures crashing down on him. He had failed to protect you, to be there when you needed him the most.

Hours passed as he sat by your side, holding your hand and watching you sleep. When you finally stirred and opened your eyes, he was there. His eyes were teary, reddened from his contained emotions.

"Hey," he whispered, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'm here," he said, squeezing your hand. "I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I should have done more."

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks. "I lost my baby." Your voice was barely a whisper, little sobs escaping your lips. You were still in a haze of sedatives and mourning.

Javier nodded, his heart breaking at the pain in your voice. "I know. I'm so, so sorry."

"No, you don't," you said, hurt and anger painting your weak voice. "You didn't want my baby."

"I was scared," he confessed, his voice cracking. "I didn't know how to handle any of this. But I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to lose our baby."

You shook your head, tears streaming like rivers down your cheeks. The gaze you gave him was filled with anger and resentment, piercing through his chest.

"Fuck you," you cried.

Javier flinched as if you had struck him. He looked away, unable to bear the intensity of your anger and sorrow.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice barely audible.

"You never be there for us, so don't come and say you're sorry," your words melted into an unstoppable crying. You felt like if your heart would literally broke into a million pieces. Grief and exhaustion weighing heavily on you, you felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness.

"I know I can't make this right. I know I failed you. But please, let me be here for you now," he pleaded, but there was nothing he could say to soothe your unbearable pain.

"You're a piece of shit, Javier," you spat, your voice trembling with anger and grief. "I don't want to see you ever again."

You turned away from him, your tears flowing freely.

He lingered for a moment, hoping for some sign of forgiveness, but when none came, he slowly left the room, closing the door behind him.

He stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall, feeling the crushing weight of his failures. He had lost not only his child but also the trust and love of the woman who meant more to him than he had ever admitted.

#javier peña fic #javier pena fanfiction #pedro pascal #fanfic #narcos #pedro pascal x reader #imagina javier peña #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #javierpeña #javier pena narcos #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader

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