#PBS fem hair

[em-ontv]

Need some space — d.w.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: Dean could never keep his hands off of you, latching onto you whenever he could

Content: fluff, established relationship, clingy/touch-starved Dean, not proofread, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 912

Dean was a lot of things—sharp-tongued, reckless at times, stupidly brave—but you hadn't expected "clingy boyfriend" to be added to the list.

Yet somehow, here you were, flipping through dusty books with his head in your lap, eyes half-closed like an oversized housecat. He shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch, clearly uninterested in the research you were trying to get through.

"Dean," you sighed, nudging the book away from where it almost brushed against his face. "How am I supposed to read with your giant head in the way?"

"Don't mind me, sweetheart." he mumbled, eyes closing and voice bordering a purr. "You're doing great. Keep it up."

You gave his forehead a flick, earning a dramatic groan. He swatted half-heartedly at your hand but refused to move an inch. Instead, he stretched his legs out further, making himself even more comfortable.

"Seriously? You're not even gonna pretend to help?" you glared at him. "You know, I'd really appreciate it if you started flipping through some books too."

"Helping," he said lazily, cracking one eye open and giving you a smirk. "Emotional support."

Without waiting any further, he reached up, took your hand, and pressed it to his head. Your fingers tangled in his hair instinctively, and he melted under your touch like butter on a hot pan.

When you stopped and started to pull your hand back so you could flip a page of the book, he let out a pathetic whine, pushing your hand back against his head, like he’d die before letting you go.

"You're such a baby. I have to get this done before Sam comes back." you muttered, squishing his face between your fingers, making him pout.

"Cut it out," he grumbled, frowning up at you, though the way his frown dissolved when you laughed said otherwise.

"If you're not gonna help, you're not gonna complain either." you said, and he retaliated by kissing your wrist, peppering soft, warm kisses all the way up your arm.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. Dean's touchy-feely tendencies had only escalated since you started dating. Take the case last week, for example.

You'd been interviewing a witness at a diner, trying to keep your questions subtle and professional. Dean, however, had other ideas.

"So, you're saying the lights flickered just before you heard the noise?" you asked the frazzled waitress.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, glancing nervously between you and Dean.

Before you could respond, his hand found its way to the small of your back. Not a casual graze either—nope—it was a slow, deliberate caress, his fingers curling just enough to make his presence known. You froze, shooting him a warning glance, trying to shrug him off, but he was already leaning in closer, the picture of shamelessness.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear. "You're doing amazing. Keep it up."

"Dean," you hissed through a forced smile. "Go sit down."

"What? I'm just keeping an eye on you," he replied, all wide-eyed innocence, grinning like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The poor waitress looked like she wanted to crawl into the freezer.

And then there was that time in the library when you'd been deep into research, scanning page after page. Dean had sauntered in, plopped down next to you, and proceeded to rest his chin on your shoulder while humming AC/DC under his breath.

"Keep reading, sweetheart. I’m comfy." he murmured when you tried to shoo him off, knowing he'd just distract you. His arm snaked around your waist, and before you could protest, he was already pressing slow, feather-light kisses along your jaw.

Or the night you snuck into the kitchen for some quiet time with a PB&J. Five minutes later, Dean appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked half-asleep, his brows pinched in sleepy frustration.

"What are you doing?" you asked, mid-bite of a PB&J.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, padding over to you with a frown. "Why'd you leave?"

"Dean, I was gone for five minutes."

He made a noise of dissatisfaction, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling lazily into the crook of your neck. "Come back to bed with me." he muttered, his voice soft and heavy with sleep.

It was ridiculous. The same tough-as-nails hunter who'd taken on demons, monsters, and literal death couldn't go five minutes without missing you. But as much as you teased him for it, it brought a certain warmth to your heart.

Because for all his bravado, Dean was just a guy who'd spent most of his life terrified of losing the people he cared about, loved. His over-the-top clinginess? It was his way of making up for lost time.

"Alright, fine," you said, swallowing the last bite of your sandwich and dusting your hands off.

He grinned—smug at first, but it quickly melted into something far softer. He let out a content hum, nuzzling closer.

"Right now, please." he murmured, his voice heavy with drowsiness.

"Alright, just don't fall asleep on me in the middle of the kitchen." you said, rubbing his arm, leading him back to the comfort of your shared bed.

Under the covers, Dean curled up against you, his arms wrapped around your body, his face buried in your neck. His breath was gentle and even, warm against your skin. Just before sleep took him, he murmured faintly, "Love you, sweetheart."

[goldfades]

★ ATE (LITERALLY) ─── PB⁵

❪ requested -> "thinking abt paige x reader smut w a post-game win quickie in paiges car (featuring extra needy paige" ❫ for my lovely disco nonnie!! briefly inspired by so high school by tay-tay

─ pairing | paige bueckers x fem!reader

─ warnings | nsfw under the cut! read at your own discretion. just a whole lotta oral (paige receiving, for once, jeez)

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

paige's lips found yours in a bruising kiss as she pushed you against the door of her car door, the neediness practically radiating off of her. she usually enticed by you after all of her games but tonight it seemed amplified, almost tenfold.

the taste of her urgency mingled with the rush of adrenaline as she pressed you against the door of her car, her hands grasping at your hips and waist as if she couldn't get close enough.

with a fervor born of longing and anticipation, you responded in kind, matching her passion with your own. the taste of her lips, the scent of her skin, the urgency of her touch ─ all of it ignited a fire within you that threatened to consume you both.

with reluctance, you gently broke away from paige's embrace, breathless and dizzy with the intensity of it all. "hey, uh... isn't there a team dinner, baby?"

"i can't go like this," paige's voice carried amusement but you could see the hunger in her expression. "we'll be quick, baby, please?"

paige's eyes, dark with desire, searched yours for a moment before a knowing smile curved her lips. she knew you couldn't resist her, nor did you want to. you didn't even have to say anything before paige opened the door to her backseat, practically shoving you in there.

with a hungry glint in her eyes, paige climbed in after you, her lips finding yours once more in a fervent kiss that left you breathless. the confined space of the car seemed to amplify the intensity of your connection, each touch and caress sending waves of pleasure through your body.

her lips began sucking on your neck harshly and you knew her goal was to leave a mark. you wanted to protest but you couldn't find the willpower to resist her, not when her touch ignited desire within you. surrendering to the overwhelming urge to feel her skin against yours, you let out a low whimper as paige's lips trailed along your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses in their wake.

"oh god," you shut your eyes as she moved backward to pull you into her lap. you felt yourself grind against her shorts, your whole body shuddering with pleasure.

you pulled back from the kiss to gaze at your girlfriend, to admire how good she looked. she always had this post-game glow that made you go absolutely insane, it was as if the thrill of victory lingered on her skin, infusing every inch of her being with an undeniable attractiveness that left you breathless.

leaning in closer, you brushed your lips against hers in a soft, tender caress, savoring the taste of her desire on your tongue. "can i make you feel good?"

your voice came out quiet as paige let out a small laugh, "really, princess?"

"please, i wanna taste you," now you were the needy one, almost begging her to let you have a taste.

paige's expression turned from amused to adoration quickly, her eyes softening as her hand found your hair, pulling you into a harsh kiss. you both moaned into each others mouths as you fumbled with her basketball shorts.

"make it quick, baby," paige's voice came out breathless as slid off her shorts, her eyes solely focused on you.

you didn't waste any time, your lips attached to her pussy quickly as she let out a loud groan. her hands found your hair and gripped it tightly before she spread her legs, giving you more access.

you kept your eyes on her expression, taking in every shift in her features, every expression that danced across her face. your tongue moved fast, taking her instructions ─ you did everything you knew that she liked, that gave her the most pleasure.

your tongue began circling around her clit, causing a moan to escape her lips as she began grinding against you. her head fell back on the window as her hair began to stick to her forehead, her whole body beginning to shake with pleasure.

"that's right pretty girl, fuck. keep going, make me cum, baby," paige's voice came out as assertive as she could possibly muster, her hands pushing your head in deeper.

you let out a moan at that, closing your eyes to concentrate on the taste and the feeling of her. she kept her eyes on you as she bit her lip, trying to stifle the moans that threatened to leave her lips. "fuck yeah, good girl, oh fuck,"

paige felt herself draw close as she gripped your hair tighter, in an almost desperate gesture, as if trying to anchor herself to the moment, to the overwhelming rush of pleasure that consumed you both. her touch sent shivers down your spine, a delicious ache of desire that pulsed in time with the beating of your heart.

"oh fuck, i'm cumming," paige groaned out, her head falling back in pure bliss as she came. she rode her high on your face before she drew away slowly, her eyes still shut as you pulled away.

before you could process anything, her hand found your head to pull you into a rough kiss. you moaned into the kiss as she pulled you into her lap, to show her appreciation for you.

you pulled away to wipe your face with the back of your hand, earning a breathless laugh from your girlfriend.

"that was fucking hot," she mumbled as she took you in fully. "you're hot, you know that?"

you blushed under her gaze, feeling a rush of warmth flooding your cheeks at her words. with a shy smile, you lowered your gaze, unable to fully meet her intense stare.

but as paige's fingers gently lifted your chin, guiding your gaze back to meet hers, you found yourself drowning in the depths of her gaze once more. "look at me, princess, what's wrong? you were pretty heavy on the eye contact a few seconds ago, why you acting shy now?"

you rolled your eyes as you pulled away from her touch, a laugh escaping your lips. paige put on her basketball shorts before pulling out perfume from her bag, spraying a generous amount on her neck and wrists.

as paige leaned in to fasten her shorts, you couldn't help but admire the way her movements exuded a quiet confidence, a sense of self-assuredness that never failed to captivate you.

with a smirk, paige turned to you. "ready to head to that team dinner, princess?" she asked, her voice laced with anticipation. "or... are you full?"

"shut up, p. enough with these damn jokes-"

paige let out a loud annoyed groan as you both walked to the front and passenger seat, her irritation melting away into a playful grin as she playfully nudged your shoulder.

as you settled into the front and passenger seats of the car, paige's hand found yours, intertwining your fingers in a silent gesture of affection.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[kiemiu]

my boyfriend's a vampire | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship headcanons wc 1.6k (library) + (request)

one. who gained an inevitable infatuation with you because of your uncanny resemblance to a past lover he had hundreds of years ago. you were walking home late at night, lost in your own world while completely in tune with whatever music blasted through your headphones. you were so distracted that you wouldn't even realize a mugger chasing you. highly unsafe, he thought.

it seemed like easy prey to him, he didn't even pull out his usual over the top techniques, he just followed closely behind until you were in a more secluded area. his footsteps got quicker and quicker, and he got closer and closer, until he was barely a wisp away. he grabbed your shoulder, whipping you around. you let out a shrill scream in return, both of you stuck frozen in place. you trembled in fear, while his grip on your shoulder loosened, and fell to your elbow. "mon cherie?" he quietly whispered. your face so familiar, those same plump lips that he missed so much coated in a sticky gloss, your hair the same length as the last time he saw you take your last breath, and your scent carrying solemn memories. you came back to him, at last.

your wide eyes looked at him in fear, your figure physically recoiling away from him the more he stood frozen in shock. your visible discomfort snapping him out of his trance. "oh, um—yo-you dropped this." he muttered out, revealing the lip gloss in his palm that he had snagged from your purse without you noticing. you quickly accepted it before scurrying away, your head whisking behind your shoulder a few times to make sure he wasn't following behind, yet as soon as he saw you slow down your pace, he began to follow you until you reached home.

two. who is your personal shadow. wherever you go, he's not too far behind. always closely analyzing your every move. not in a scrutinizing way, but with pure fixation. after seeing you pass in such a horrific way centuries ago, the simplest tasks keep him infatuated with you. he'll watch you fix a pb&j as if you're completing a once in a lifetime mission. "you don't have to watch me write my essay, matt." you quietly murmured, your eyes remaining trained on your computer screen, even as warmth creeped up your neck from the pressure of his gaze. being caught in the act as well as the simple mention of his name made him shy away from your peripheral vision, resorting to floating behind you. "you just move with such eloquence, mon amour. i can't help but stare." he'd admit quietly, the brush of his lips tickling the lobe of your ear, a small smirk making its way on his face at the sound of your quickening heartbeat.

three. who doesn't sleep but will cuddle you from sunset to sunrise. he knows how important it is for humans to get their sleep, finding that it keeps them healthy and from going completely insane, he ensures that you follow a strict sleeping schedule. usually, when nighttime falls and the moon makes an appearance, he has little to no acception of you staying up past a certain time. only every now and then will he let you bend the rules, but it's very rare. he wants you to maintain the best health possible and will take every measure to make sure you keep it. after having a particularly vicious nightmare one night, matt swore to stay close to you even when you're asleep. you tell him that he doesn't have to do it but he continues to do so anyway, finding comfort in a routine with you, yet never admitting it. always saying "oh, please. the best sleep you get is when you're with me."

four. who is hesitant to feed on you when he starts to get hungry out of fear of hurting you. you've offered plenty of times and each time he's turned it down without an argument. it's not like he doesn't want to, because he absolutely does. hearing your blood rush in thick streams through connected veins has been the main reason on why he's so hesitant on keeping you close, yet he still continues to. even when it drives him mad. albeit pouty, that he won't drink your blood, you've offered animals in the woods behind your house, but he simply refuses to ever feed on animals, having too intense of a fondness for them, you'll sometimes catch him talking to them but you never question it. his hunger only satiated by mutilating muggers and sleazy men in the dead of night when you're fast asleep, always making it home in time to clean himself up and sneak back into bed without you noticing.

five. who lets you dress him in todays' fashion and will unwillingly be your test dummy for wigs and makeup. as time went on, matt grew out of his outdated blouses and followed suit on whatever fashion was popular. he didn't dive too deep into the trends, only wearing what he liked and assumed was more fitting. pilgrim shoes weren't exactly today's fashion and it hadn't been for years. his once colonial style had slipped into a more business casual flair. you liked his style, but you also liked to persuade him into a pair of baggy jeans every once in a while. when you weren't doing that, you were using him as a mannequin to style your wigs on or as a test dummy for new makeup looks. "princesse, this isn't even my shade."

six. who communicates to you telepathically. he's not really one for words unless he's writing them down, and he made that known so you wouldn't be put off by his silence. yet it did startle you when he randomly started to communicate with you telepathically. it became a habit for the two of you, sometimes being in completely separate rooms but still managing full blown conversations with each other. there has been a handful of occasions where you've introduced a friend to matt in your head and not out loud. it's a handy way to communicate, you just have to find a healthy balance.

seven. who writes you love letters. not being that big of a talker or one for boisterous romantic gestures, matt resorts to writing you love letters. everything he feels but can't say has been transferred onto delicate pieces of paper. there are piles and piles of letters addressed to you, some delivered to you, others kept locked away. the ones he keeps locked away are letters that no lady should see. they're shameful, white sheets being stained with red ink as he explains every primal desire that haunts him whenever he sees you, feels you. sometimes he'll go back and re-read said letters, flustering himself at how feral he sounds. he will never let those sheets of paper ever see the light of day. the other letters, the more light-hearted and sappy ones, he'll fold up and put them in different places for you to find throughout your day. under your pillow for you to read before you go to bed, on the fridge door handle, wedged in a flower bouquet, etc.. they can range from a short 7 word sentence to a 1200 word document. all of them oozing words of love.

eight. who loves your obsession with his fangs. he always watches with a fond smile as you cuddle close to him and poke at his fangs. "they're so sharp.." you'd mutter, gently sliding the nail of your finger down one. he'd jokingly bite at your finger as if he'd actually bite it off, making you retract your finger in fear with a shrill squeak, his laugh at your reaction making you laugh with him. with his sharp teeth he makes good use out of them, opening bottles, slicing through bags of chips, cutting fruit, carving pumpkins, etc.. he also likes to do a stereotypical vampire kiss where he dips you down and playfully bites your neck. never hard enough to draw blood, but enough to tickle you.

nine. who turns into a bat to avoid arguments. every time he senses one of your conversations starting to go left, his walls start to build up. sometimes he feels cornered and doesn't know how to react in those situations, he never did even with a millennia of experience. so, his go to mechanism is to turn into a bat. 'bats can't talk so you can't be mad at him' not to mention, how utterly adorable he is in his bat form, hanging in the corner of the roof, all bundled up, his doe eyes warily peaking out past his wings. he knows exactly where to hit the weak spots and will take advantage in his favor. he won't leave his bat form unless the situation is really upsetting/serious to you or until you've calmed down.

ten. who can't lose you again. he knows as a human that your time is extremely limited and precious. but for you, it doesn't have to be. everytime he hears you complain about abnormalities that only humans go through he suggests the idea of turning you. "you know, you wouldn't have to go through any back pain as a vampire." you laugh it off, underestimating how completely serious he is. matt has already dealt with the loss of you one time and he refuses to go through it again. being without you changed him for the worst, so, he'll take any and every measure possible to keep you around. even if it means turning you into a vampire while you're at your most defenseless.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍���𝒔𝒕 ' 🧛🏻 : @emely9274 @ginswife @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @chrisprincesss @koilaniazul @starsforu @sturn777 @sturniolosiphone @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnsmia @leaningoutthewindow @certainfestivalnerdshepherd @dominicfikeenthusiast

[luckypunklemonade]

Nothing to Lose

| Did you ever realize how far apart you and Stiles grew, even as you spent hours together? [smut MDNI 18+ established relationship; oral (fem receiving)] Classic overworked loser boyfriend! (canon) Stiles Stilinski

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

You’ve always trusted Stiles to know his limits. Never badgered him if he wanted to stay up into the early morning hours researching niche supernatural events or when he’d say he survived off of microwave dinners and PB&J's and hasn’t drank water in a few days. Of course, he loved it when you sternly told him that wasn’t healthy, that he should get more sleep or get up to get a cup of water. He loved that about you. Seeing you cared when it mattered.

It started when you took his hand in yours and brought it up to your mouth. Pressing small kisses to each of his knuckles, punctuating words he wasn’t listening to. “Stiles?” You frowned, giving up on the conversation.

“Hm?” He’d blink as if his eyelids were sticking together; slow, fazed and distracted.

“You’re not listening,” you’d said, kissing his fingertips.

“M’listening. I was…” he tested bending his fingers, smiling when your lips followed. “I was…”

You could hear the thought die in his throat, the remnants leaving in the form of a small moan as you take his ring finger between your lips.

“Let me make it up to you.”

Then he was resting his cheek against your inner thigh, eyes already glazing over and eyebrows knitted dramatically. An overwhelmed and weak expression. When you had told him you liked it when he looked like that, you suspected he started looking at you with those half-lidded eyes and slightly-parted mouth more often. Whatever makes you happy.

When he spoke in a needy whisper, his voice took on a gravelly static. His ‘M’s and ‘S’s slurring and spilling over into the next word after it. He lost the sense to enunciate words or put much work into the praises and instead focused his efforts into watching your face and sliding his fingers between your legs and letting out a deep exhale, something about how wet you are leaving with it.

It’s been a while for sure. Since you’ve had time for each other. Since you got time alone, really. Consumed by school, work, and helping the pack. You’d joked that the pack couldn’t survive without two humans, he laughed, and you both went back to work. It was comfortable. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed to just be with him until he’d coincidentally sat next to you in the bed for a small break. Reading through the notes you’d both taken, switching the notebook between backpacks every research session, you leaned into him.

Now, he was looking up at you from between your legs, almost cross-eyed at the slick covering his thumb. And when his head dipped down, ready to coat his mouth in you, he knew your mouth would fall open. He knew it did something to you, the boldness of his eye contact while he did something like this, lapping at you, hands holding your thighs down, and humming into you every so often as if he wanted this as much as you did. As your head lolled back, he smiled against you and reached up to hold your hand. He gently guided your hand to the top of his head, his moan vibrating against you as your nails scratch softly at his scalp. He lifts his head and gives you a crooked grin. His lips are wet and his eyes almost sparkle as his voice comes out cracking in need. “M’listening now, sweetheart.”

Before you could answer, his head dipped back down, sucking softly as your hands tighten in his hair. Stiles was indulgent. In his research, mostly, losing track of time and awareness of his own needs. He was often dehydrated, tired, and hungry, making you out to be his guardian angel every time you came over to remind him. He said his ADHD gave him an addictive personality, or his father’s genes. At the very least, he was obsessive. It was useful in research, but you never imagined how advantageous it’d be if he set his sights on you.

He grinned against you and pulled away again, impatient to get his words out. Your eyes fluttered seeing him lick his lips and the words that come out are barely heard, “Missed you.”

The sight makes your heart flutter. His awkward smile because he’d stopped to tell you. His chin was still shiny, and he licked his lips again, enunciating for the first time since you’d kissed his neck,

“I missed you, honey. Am I makin’ it up to you?”

[anikaluv]

JUST FOR PRACTICE —

❤︎︎ pairing: Miles (e!42) × fem!reader

❤︎︎ genre: fluff (slight angst?)

❤︎︎ cw: cussing, nail biting, Miles (e!42) is named Myles (creative Ik), Miles (e!42) teases reader a lil bit <3

❤︎︎ summary: Spider-Man!Miles and Prowler!Miles as Twins where you have a crush on Miles (e!1610) and Miles (e!42) suggests you make out with him for practice.

❤︎︎ w/c: 1.6k

❤︎︎ a/n: I was reading miles morales x reader fics then I thought of this and went “It would be so cool if someone wrote it”. Then I did, cause I’m a bitch who gets shit done. 😘

PART TWO EXTRA

You and Miles have been inseparable since y’all were born. You two seemed to be tied together like a knot. You could always fondly go back and look through memories of him holding your hand while leading you through forests, him sharing his PB&J’s with you during lunch time, and him protecting you numerous times from bullies as the years went by. He was always there for you.

So much that you’ve fallen head over heels for him.

Yet you were too scared to ruin the deep friendship you two have. Too terrified of the chance that everything you two had going to waste because of your feelings, so you kept to yourself.

Which leads you to the present day, you sit on Miles’ bed as he takes a shower before you start the study session you both had planned.

Nervously, you fidget with your fingers, eagerly awaiting his return. The truth is, you don't need these study sessions. As an all-A student, you grasp the subjects effortlessly. However, you seize any opportunity to spend time with Miles.

Your mind wonders as curious eyes scan his room and land on his sketchbook. Your instinctively get up and reach for it, not caring for the overstep of privacy because c’mon, you knew this guy before you knew how to walk.

Excitement courses through you as you eagerly flip through the pages, revealing beautiful sketches of family, sunflowers, among other things. However, as you reach the more recent pages, your heart starts to sink.

Gwanda, Miles' so-called friend who conveniently always seems to be "out of town," yet he never ceases to endlessly complement her and fills his sketchbook to the brim with pages of her. What's so extraordinary about her? You've known Miles since you both were starting to crawl, while she has only been in his life for a few months, and suddenly she's this incredible person?

With a heavy sigh, you set your sketchbook down, feeling your vision blur as you make your way back to sit on Miles' bed. Tears well up quickly as you bury your face in your hands, sobbing silently. Unfortunately, the sound of approaching footsteps awakens your senses. You hastily wipe your eyes with your sleeve, although it's already too late.

"Oh great, looks like la llorona (crybaby) is sobbing once more. What's the matter, ma?" Miles strolls in, his voice oozing with condescension. He leans against the doorway, owning a smug expression. You can't help but roll your eyes and let out an exasperated groan at the mere sight of him.

Myles Morales. The worst person you’ve ever met. You’ve always wondered how him and Miles are even related. Ever since you were little he’s been a stick up your ass. You would always go back and flinch through memories of him pulling your hair as you scream and cry, him destroying all of your brand new dolls because they “needed a makeover ” , and him notoriously bullying you numerous times mercilessly as the years went by. He was always there, annoying you.

You cross you arms and let out a exasperated huff as you turn away from him. “Don’t you have someone else to annoy Morales? I’m not in the mood.” Myles chuckles at your childish behavior and struts into the room to sit beside you.

He inspects your face, frowning at your red eyes and stuffy nose. “I’m serious, mami. Those pretty tears only look good on your face if I’m causing ‘em.“ Myles softly grabs your chin and moves your face towards his. He raised his fingers to softly wipe your tears as you look deeply into his eyes.

Your heart quickens yet instead you release the insult bubbling in your throat. "Thanks for your oh-so-worrisome concern, Morales," you retort, venom lacing your words. He smirks in response. “Anytime, princesa (princess). I’m serious though, you cryin’ cause of my brother again?” You nod slowly looking away from his pitying gaze.

You bite your nails as your eyes look around the room once more landing on Miles sketchbook. Pain flickers in your eyes, catching Myles' attention.

The realization settles in Myles which is showcased by his new scowl on his face. “Ah I see, Its cause of that lil’ white chick, right?” Your eyes widen at how Myles was able to guess it correctly, you nod again slowly and try to concentrate on breathing before you continue wailing. “I just don’t understand, what’s so special about her? Was I ever even special to him if I could be replaced so easily?” You clench your fists, digging your nails into the fabric of your jeans, scrunching them up as your lip quivers.

Myles sucks his teeth in annoyance, followed by a deep sigh that catches your attention. “Why don’t you just tell him this, ma? Bet that’ll make him realize what’s in front of him.” You quickly shake your head, rejecting the idea. "I can't. It's not that simple. If I confess how I truly feel, what if it ruins everything? I can't risk that," you explain anxiously. Myles rolls his eyes at your dramatic response.

"There's no way it would go down like that, but let's entertain your idea. Are you saying all it would take is courage for you to confess to him?" he asks, testing the waters. There’s a different look in Myles eyes, they’re filled with mischief as he slowly scoots towards you.

“Well, yeah, I guess? Why?" You answer your voice layered with curiosity at Myles newfound demeanor. You tilt your head in confusion, What was he planning?

A gasp escapes your lips as Myles firmly grabs you waist tightly. His big hands pull you against him harshly. Instantly his lips lock with yours, showcasing deep desire as his kisses you. Your eyes widen momentarily before you surrender, closing them gently and placing a hand on his chest.

You wrap your arms around Myles' neck, deepening the kiss, your tongues intertwining desperately. He tastes so sweet, like slightly burnt caramel. Your body molds into his, feeling the hard contours of his muscled yet lean chest beneath your palm as you press into him.

You let out a soft whine against his lips, the sound echoing with a mix of pleasure and longing. Your breaths become heavy, synchronized with the intensity of the moment. Your mind becomes fuzzy, confused how you got to this point.

"There's no way it would go down like that, but let's entertain your idea. Are you saying all it would take is courage for you to confess to him?"

“Well, yeah, I guess? Why?"

“Why not just practice the having the real thing wit me?” Myles watched you scoff at the idea and laughs softly.

“I’m serious, ma. C’mon, just for practice, it’ll only be fo a lil bit. Just imagine I’m him” Myles brings his face closer to yours making your noses brush against each other.

“It’ll only be for a sec right?”, you question Myles nods, sensing he’s winning you over. “Promise, mi alma (my soul)”

You nod your head, and that gave him everything he needed.

Now you have your arms wrapped around Miles neck, playing with his braids as he layers kisses across your collarbone, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. Myles tugs at your shirt rising it up to lay his hand against your waist skin to skin. The heat from his hand placed on your waist shoots heat throughout your body.

You begin to sway, your strength ebbing away as your mind becomes blissfully hazy. Myles, ever attentive, keeps you steady, his hand resting firmly on your back while the other remains securely on your waist. He rises slightly, locking eyes with you, a playful chuckle escaping his lips as he delights in your slightly intoxicated-like state.

“C’mon, mi vida, you can’t be tired yet. I just got you.” he playfully teases, causing your face to twist with confusion. You lean your head into his shoulder leaving kisses along his neck.

Myles takes up your hand and interlocks it with his fingers. He tilts your face up to him. You look into his eyes and see something there, you just can’t tell what. He places kisses laced with adoration across your face, feeling like lighting sparks erupting across your skin.

“Mami, I haven’t always been the nicest to you, I admit that, but I also wanna admit that I-“

Right on cue, you once again hear the steps of someone walking towards the room. It must be Miles finishing his shower.

Your suddenly feel a wash of consciousness rush through your senses as you try to shuffle and fix your wrinkled clothing and correct your shriveled hair. Myles watches you and smirks at your attempt to clean up.

Miles soon steps into the room wearing a fresh set of clothes, “Sorry it took me so long, I got way into my shower playlist haha. You ready to sta-“ He eyes land on you and Myles, you watch as his face turns to confusion.

“Imma take that as my sign to leave” Myles gets up and heads to the doorway and starts to head out, before he turns his neck around to say one more thing. “I’ll see you around, ma. Let me know if you ever need more practice aight?”

EXTRA: You hurriedly shuffle to your backpack to go get your notebooks and supplies you usually use for your study sessions. As you do that Miles can’t help but watch as his brother slowly struts out the room pride written all over his face. Miles swore that as his twin left the room his could see a lipstick stain adorning Myles’ neck.

ENDING A/N: Thank you for reading this- Ion know if imma keep writing I just felt like making this at 2 am lol. Also please lmk if this is fast paced or not, that was on my mind while writing this whole thing. 💀 Love ya’ll babes <3

TAGS:

[scar-lie]

My Wife [Natasha]

I DO COMMISSION JUST DM ME FOR THE INFO

Summary : Y/N the adoptive daughter of Clint Barton got rejected multiple time by the Black Widow, the best friend of his dad

 Pairing :  Natasha Romanoff x Fem ! Reader

Warning : Cursing, depression

Word count : 5059

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

"Here she is....AAAAHHHHH HERE'S MY WIFE." You beam while jumping up and down a little bit once you get up from the couch, pointing to Natasha, who just entered the living room from her room.

A series of laughs, especially from your father, Clint, who is happy to see you with this enthusiasm just by Natasha walking into the same room as you are, already gives you so much joy that it hurts to think to himself

"Arghh........please Y/N, I'm not your wife," Natasha groaned, going to the kitchen that's attached to the living room and getting a glass of white wine.

Pfff, yes, you are, even though I haven't put the ring on those beautiful, slender fingers of yours. You're my wife already........I know it," you said with a giggle, then ran to her.

"Stop, please, Y/N, I'm not your wife nor your girlfriend; for god's sake, I'm way older than you." You just ignored her sentence and hugged her from behind. Since she's taller than you, you cuddled your face on her back.

"Y/N," she sighs, taking your arms around her and pushing you gently.

"Come on, don't make your wife sad and pouty." You pout and give her puppy eyes, but she just rolls her eyes. She's already annoyed and already at her limit, but she just controls herself so she doesn't snap at you.

Natasha is already pissed and stressed by the paperwork. Fury gave it to her yesterday, and she still has one pile of it that needs to be done by tomorrow. This makes her beyond pissed, so your teasing and calling her wife makes her irritated, and the teasing by the team didn't help.

"Come on, Nat, don't make your little missy sad and pouty. Tony teases with a smirk and wiggles his eyebrows when Natasha's eyes and Tony's meet while you look over your shoulder and wink at them. That makes me giggle more.

"Nat, don't make my daughter, or should I say your wife, sad and pouty; you're going to regret it," Clint, your father, teases while drinking beer, and Natasha looks at him in disbelief.

'Seriously, you're pairing your daughter with me, your best friend, who's 15 years older than her?! ' Natasha asked herself and huffed.

Seriously, Clint, that's your daughter for god's sake," Natasha said in disbelief, and the team laughed while you just smiled at her innocently, hands held together in front of you, swayed your top body from right to left, and looked up at her eyes, and she scoffed.

"Argh....I don't have time for your bullshit," she spat, and she just left with her PB&J and her white wine, going back to her room.

"Another time," you whisper to yourself, a little hurt, then go back to joking with the team.

—

You're brushing your hair in front of your mirror on the vanity table while drying it. The only thing that's covering your naked body is your undergarment underneat the towel wrapped around your chest down to your mid-thighs when there's a knock on your door.

"Come in!" You shout with one closed eye, drying your front upper hair. That's when you saw Natasha enter your room in her black sexy dress, revealing her upper boobs and hugging her figures.

This makes you smile widely. Seeing your wife—well, not technically, but for you, she's your wife—wearing this beautiful dress and coming to your room here in the compound makes you flutter, so I put down the hair dryer, then turn around my chair, flashing her my wide smile.

"Arghh......will you cut that fucking grin of yours? You look creepy," she spat, but you ignored it and stood up, still smiling.

"Did you dress for me? Awww, you should inform me that we're going on a date." You fake pout, then run to her and hug her.

"Argh, get off of me, and no, I'm not going out with you; I'm here because I have something to tell you." Then she pushes you away, then crosses her arms across her chest, which makes her boobs get bigger, so I smirk and wiggle my eyebrows.

"Aww are you going to confess to me? That's sweet, but no need; I told you you were my wife, so it's—" she quickly cut me off with a harsh tone.

"No, and I'm here to tell you to stop calling me your wife; I am not, and stop going around and telling people that you're my wife because that's a lie," she said with gritted teeth and piercing angry eyes, looking at your soul.`

"I'm. Not. Your. Wife...............I don't fucking like you, your just a young woman who seeks attention to everybody, you're ruining everything, even my date, you little shit, just accept the fact that I'm not into you, you little attention seeker, she spat, the anger of her now spilling out, and this makes you shrink.

"You're out of my league; for God's sake, I don't need nor want a burden like you in my life, so fucking stop, you people's pleaser, bullshit!" she screams and gets out of your room, slamming the door shut on the way.

You just stand there, looking at the wall in front of you where she was previously standing, and a single tear falls down, followed by another tear. You're breathing heavily, and the towel around you makes you feel like it's trapping you tightly.

So you take it off, throw it away somewhere in your room, and start to claw your throat down your chest, crumble down on the floor, and crawl backwards until your bare back gets contact with your bed.

"Air... air...I-I....ne-need air," you rasp out, breathing heavily. Your neck and chest already have an angry red line, and you keep kicking the floor and squirming in your seat.

"Air......" Tears stream down your face as you try to get as much air as you can, but then there's another knock on your door.

"Y/N/N? Honey, are you alright? I heard some noises." Your Dad knocks, waiting for your response, but that didn't come; instead, a series of noises like someone keeping banging the wall or floor

"Honey?" Clint grows worried, so he quickly opens the door and finds you on the floor, gasping for air.

"Honey, oh god, breathe, baby, breathe," he said, taking you in his arms, holding you tightly, and putting your head on his chest.

"Listen to my heart and follow my breathing, baby," and Clint takes deep breaths while rubbing your back until your breathing is back to normal. Because of what happened, your body gives up, and you fall asleep in your father's embrace.

—

After what happened, you still call Natasha your wife, and this makes Natasha pissed off every time; even seeing your face already pissed her off. Of course, your father, Clint, didn't know what happened that night; all he knew was that you had a panic attack.

You don't want to cause any trouble between your Dad and his best friend, slash your ultimate crush—no, you've fallen for them—so you just make excuses and lie about the panic attack almost every night so you wouldn't cause any chaos on the team.

"Are you ready?" your father asked you when you came into the living room, bags in your hands.

"Yeah, I think all of my things are packed." You give him a sweet smile, so he nods.

"Ok, let's go; we're heading out now, guys. Bye." You two said your goodbyes to the team and waved at them. You turned around to go to the Quinjet but stopped when one voice bid them farewell.

"See you next week." You both looked back and saw Natasha just entering the living room.

"Yeah, see you next week, my wife." You wiggle your eyebrows again, and she instantly rolls her eyes, already pissed.

"Just get out of my hair for god's sake," she mumbled to herself, which no one heard, but you read her lips, so you just smiled at her.

"Don't miss me too much, ok? I'll just be gone for a week. Now be careful, my wife." You bid your good-bye with your father to Natasha and go to the quinjet, going home to your family that you missed.

—

A week and days go by, but Clint still hasn't come back to the compound with you, but the team understands when Clint informs them that he or you two can't come back just yet.

Well, you're not really a part of the Avengers (Your father didn’t let you just yet), but you grew up with them since Clint adopted you when they saw you—a 14-year-old girl trapped in a cell of a Hydra facility—so they took care of you, and Clint and Laura adopted you.

"Clint?" The two married couples look at the doorway when they hear a knock on the door followed by Natasha's voice.

"Nat? What are you doing here?" Clint asked once he opened the door, stepping aside to let Natasha get inside his house.

But Natasha quickly frowned, and then she got greeted with pure silence; not even Lila, Cooper, and Nathaniel greeted her, especially you, who show enthusiasm when you see her, but no, it's a complete silence, like only Clint or Laura are the only people in the house.

"Nat," Laura greeted her with a hug, and she returned it.

"What are you doing here? Not that I don't want you here," Clint said, and they sat on the couch while Laura made coffee.

"I'm worried; it's nearly two weeks and you and Y/N still haven't stepped foot in the compound." Clint looked back over his shoulder at his wife, and they exchanged looks.

"What? What is it?" Natasha quickly asked, knowing that something was definitely wrong.

"Clint." Laura nods at Clint as her husband sighs.

"It's Y/N." Then he stands up.

"Follow me." Natwsha quickly stood up, and she followed her best friend with her heart pumping.

"I don't know how you will react, but hold yourself together," Clint said, and with that, they opened your bedroom door, and there you are, laying in your bed, back facing them.

"What about her?" Natasha asked, seeing that there's nothing wrong but you're just lying down in your bed.

Clint nods at Nat towards you, so she walks around your bed just to find you, looking at the wall blankly, eye bags under your eyes; you're smaller, and now you're skinny as she last saw you, and you didn't hold a single emotion; it's all blank.

She gasps at it and steps her foot back, shocked at what she saw—the once-held beauty of a beautiful smile and the spark in your eyes every time she sees you are long gone.

This isn't what she expects when she steps foot on the farm. The first time she steps foot on the Barton's resident, she feels something isn't right.

Because every time she would pay a visit, even if she was far away, you could sense it and quickly run to her and greet her with a warm hug.

She should know better to know something is definitely wrong from the first time she feels something's not right, which was a week ago, two days after that night.

"Hey...Y/N?" Natasha whispers, slowly walking towards you and crouching down to your level.

Natasha bites her lower lips when she doesn't get any reaction or a single move out of you; you're just there, laying down, looking into nothing.

"Y/N/N... he-hey...please look at me," Natasha whispered, softly touching your arm, but still nothing. She bit her lips harder and looked at Clint, and the couple just shook their heads.

"Clint, tell me, Natasha begged, walking towards them, so Clint pulled her out of the room and closed the door.

"I don't know Nat, I-" Clint sighs, closing his eyes. It breaks him to see his daughter like this.

"It's just one day she's like that," Laura continued, eyes full of worry and sadness.

"When we got home, she was so jolly, and then after two days, she's just like that. I should have known that something was wrong the first time I noticed she was so jolly." Clint holds his wife's hand tightly, and Laura squeezes it back.

"What? What do you mean, Clint?" Natasha grows so anxious that she starts to rub her hand on her jeans.

"She has depression, Nat; she always has." Natasha gasps at hearing the new information and looks back at your closed door.

"It's my fault," she whispered to herself, tears running down her cheeks.

"I want to stay.......here?" She looked at the couple and wiped her tears.

"Until Y/N is better.....please" She clenches her hand with her nail digging into her palm, and the couple sigh, nodding.

—

Since the day Natasha knew about you, she has stayed by your side and refused to leave you. She will tell you how beautiful the weather is or how beautiful the night sky is. She will also tell you stories and read books while she lies beside you, but mostly she's hugging you tightly. When the night comes, once your eyes are closed, her tears run down, wetting your pillow, and she quietly sobs while hugging you tightly, telling you how sorry she was.

"Y/N/N, I have some of your favorite Y/F/S," Natasha beams, entering your room, and she sees you there, sitting up on your bed, which makes her stop.

Y/N-," she quickly runs to you, puts the snacks on your bedside table, and helps you up because she knows you always lose balance.

"Going to the bathroom?" You just shook your head and pointed to the window.

Out," you whisper in horse, and this surprises Natasha, because after weeks of trying to make you say a single word or a letter, you finally spoke, but she quickly gets out of her trace and nods happily.

Ok." With that, she helped you go out and sit in the rocking chair.

"Wh-what do you want to do?" Natasha asked carefully, looking at your side profile.

You didn't answer back; instead, you just looked at the dogs playing in the field—the three dogs you love, and one of them is the one you saved from the explosion.

"Ok, I'll just get us snacks and drinks." With that, Natasha left with a little smile on her face.

You've been improving for over 3 weeks; you've improved a lot more than the first time she saw you; you've been eating at least 2 times a day, even if it's just a few spoonfuls of food; you've been starting to acknowledge your surroundings, answering them with a nod or shook of your head; your pale skin is now gaining color; and now, you want to get up and go out to look outside, which is a kind of big step in your stage.

"Ok, here are the snacks," Natasha said, resting the snacks and drinks on the table. You look at her and nod.

Thanks," she smiled, nodding at you.

"You're welcome" and means that you start to eat the snacks little by little.

"Ca-can..." you whisper and grab a drink. Natasha waits until you take a sip of water.

"Can...you tell me a story?" She smiles and nods, happy that you're finding some comfort in her stories.

"Of course." With that, she starts another story of her life before they meet you and rescue you.

In some point you're loving the stories she's telling you, specially when she tell you the stories of her sister Yelena in the Red Room, you even request it to her to tell you stories with Yelena in Red Room, you don't know but knowing someone suffer the same pain and having a similar backstories/past is bringing you comfort, that your not the only one who go through it all

But for Natasha, she doesn't want to share it; she still struggles to open up about her past. It's hard for her, but seeing you wanting to know it and the feeling of getting it out without judgment feels too good, so she learns to open up to you and let herself be vulnerable.

Slowly, you're getting better, and sometimes you're smiling too. You're joining them at the dining table and listening to their jokes. You even join them on movie nights. Either your siblings will cuddle you or Natasha.

"Dinner's ready!" Laura shouts, smiling that her eldest daughter is starting to go back to them again.

Hey, dinner's ready; do you want to eat now or later?"Natasha asked, looking at your side profile while you looked up at the calm night sky with various stars and your eyes sparkling while watching.

"Let's go." You look at her and nod, so you two go to the dining table and see everybody already sitting there, waiting for you two.

"Sissy, look, it’s your favorite," Lila said with a smile and pointed to the dish, so you smiled at her.

"Yeah, it is, thanks mom," you smile at Laura, and she stops herself to shed a tear and nod at you.

"You're welcome, my sweetheart." With that, you all pray and start eating while joking around.

D-dad," you giggle for the first time, and all of them look at you with shock and a smile on their faces.

"Yo-you..." you smile and point to his chest.

"You have crust on your chest," you say, and he looks down and gasps dramatically.

"Oh, silly me, hahaha.......I'm such a clumsy person," he mocks one of those girls in the movie who acted in such a precious move, and this makes you giggle more.

"My wife's giggling." Natasha can't help but miss how enthusiastic you are around her, especially when you call her your wife. She misses it, and deep down in her, she likes it—no, she loves it; she just doesn't want to admit it.

But this causes your smile to drop, and you look down on your food and take a small bite. With this, they all look at you, and Natasha grows worried, already regretting what she said.

"I'm not your wife," you coldly reply, and Natasha's heart clenches, so she just nods and tries not to show how hurt she is.

Now she knows how it feels to be rejected, and now she knows that this feeling is always lingering on her every day, hour, or minute, and it hurts her like hell.

"Oh...so-sorry-" she said, getting cut off when you stood up to leave.

"Wait, where are you going, honey?" Clint asked, standing up and going around the table.

"Up to my room." You refuse the help of your father and go up to your room by yourself.

This makes Natasha shrink in her seat, look down on her food, and clench her hand that's holding the utensil.

I-I. I'm sorry, Clint.....I-I fucked up again," Natasha whispered, and she quickly stood up to leave before anyone in the family could say a word.

"Nat wait—" Clint got stopped by his wife.

"Let her be for now, Clint; she needs space." Clint looks at his wife, worried. They both know how guilty Natasha is of what she had done before, and Natasha thinks she deserves to be blamed even though the couple didn't blame her.

She just needs something to hold on to to blame, and that's what she chooses; that's her way to cope up and fight for you, and the thought that she fucked up again didn't sit well on her mind; it keeps messing with her head.

Now, you're sitting in your chair, looking out the window, while Natasha takes a ride on her big bike, going as far away from you as she can. She just can't stand to be near you right now, so while she's driving, she keeps wiping her tears until she's out of town and parks at the nearby gas station.

She looks at the empty street and the night sky. She sighs before going inside the store and buying a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and gum.

"Why do you have to be stupid and ruin the best things in your life, Natalia? she hissed to herself once she got out of the store.

going far enough in the gas station with her bike and lighting her cigarette, looking up at the night sky, who shine with the stars

"It is really beautiful," she whispers to herself, only appreciating the night sky now. At first, she doesn't get why people, or specifically you, love looking up at the night sky. Even in the compound, she always finds you at night on the rooftop, laying down with the blanket on the floor and looking up, or at the edge of the building, feet swinging back and forth while looking up.

Now she knows why the silence, the calmness, and the beauty of the night help you and calm you down in times like this and especially make you realize some things you are constantly denying and what you've done and make your mind clear.

After a few sticks of cigarette while looking at the night sky, she starts to feel a raindrop starting to fall down and a thunder sound can be heard in the place, so she quickly steps on the cigarette.

She hops on her bike to go back to Barton's house before the rain gets worse, or at least she wishes, but she's so wrong because she's just driving back for over 5 minutes when the heavy raindrops start to fall down, soaking her wet.

Once she got back, she was drenched from head to toe inside her boots, and it was cold as hell, so she quickly got inside, taking her boots and jacket off.

"Nat?" Natasha stops and looks forward to seeing Clint, Laura, and you sitting on the couch.

"So-sorry about the floor," She whispers, and Laura gives her a towel.

"That's ok, go and dry yourself." She nodded and went upstairs to take a quick warm shower and change into her pajamas. Once she got out of her room, Clint was waiting for her with a crossed arm. At this point, she understands if he wants her to go back to the compound tomorrow morning.

"Clint look," she started, but he cut her off.

"I trust you, Nat; I trust you with Y/N's life; I don't know what I'm going to do; I can't read her; and she refuses every help we offer her; she just wants to be on the couch." Clint looks up at her with pleading eyes.

"Please....try Nat," he said, Nat looking at him hesitantly.

"It's not your fault, Nat; trust me when I say It's not your fault." She shook her head, not believing him.

"You're her light in her dark mind; you're keeping her alive. She saw something in you that saved her. You saved her so many times in any way you could possibly save her." She looked into his eyes with teary eyes.

"I want my Y/N back, the jolly one. But you're the only one who can bring her back. Please, Nat '' Nat plays with her tongue on her right inner cheek while nodding.

"I'll try..." With that, she composes herself and goes down where you are, passing Laura on the way.

"Hey...Y/N/N?" she asked softly, like the first time you look over your shoulder for a second and go back looking at the movie playing in front of you with the lowest volume, so she sat beside you.

"Can you tell me your story again, the one with Yelena?" you asked, still looking at the TV.

"Yeah, ok." Natasha sighs and starts to tell you her story of how the Red Room is programmed and how she needs to fight for her and Yelena.

"What happened to Yelena?" Natasha can't find a word, not a single one; she just shuts her mouth. She doesn't know how to answer your question.

Even though she and her sister are reunited and in a good relationship, she just can't accept the fact that she escaped the Red Room without her, so she just leaves Yelena alone.

"I-she..." she said, looking down on her hand.

"Did you leave with her?" She could feel your gaze on her, so she closed her eyes and shook her head.

"No," Natasha looked up to you, but you shook your head, going back to watch the movie. Natasha thought it was her cue to leave you alone, so she stood up and turned around to leave.

"I am her," you said while still watching, and Natasha looked back at you with a frown.

"What?" She waited for you to talk again, now facing you.

"I am Yelena," you whisper, fidgeting your hand, so Natasha sat beside you again, looking closely at your side profile.

"I was left behind too..............by my older sister," Natasha gasped, biting her lips.

"She left me behind the four walls of the cell in Hydra...............she just used me to get her way out there." You look at Natasha for a second and go back to the movie. Natasha is shocked to learn this story.

No one on the team, even your parents, knows this; all they know is that you're the only one left alive from the Hydra experiments; they didn't know that you have a sister.

"Wh-what happened to her?" Natasha wants to hold you, but she doesn't know if you want that.

"I don't know, but one day when I'm in training, they just throw her dead body in front of me, telling me that I will end up the same as my sister if I try to escape." You stand up and go outside on the porch, so Natasha follows you behind.

"I don't know what I should feel.........I'm-......I'm not allowed to feel anything." You start to go down the stairs of the porch.

"Y/N, wait, no, you're going to get yourself soaked." Natasha tries to get you back to the porch, but you're already down on the grass, where your body is starting to get soaked.

"I didn't know that I was bottling it up..........I don't know what feelings or emotions are." Natasha doesn't have any choice, so she follows you.

"Until I meet you and the team..........you all show me what emotion is." You stop in the middle of the field, 30 feet away from your house, and the fact that you're starting to shiver makes Natasha notice it, so she grows worried.

Y/N, you're going to get sick; please let's get back." She stands beside you. You smile, looking up and letting the raindrop fall on your face.

"And I hate it............" You look at her with teary eyes and a smile.

"At first, because that's where I start to feel the grief, betrayal, guilt, sadness, loneliness, depression, and how much of a monster I am—" your tears start to roll down your eyes, but even if they're running down your checks with the raindrop, Natasha knew you're crying.

"Y/N" Natasha is going to hug you, but she stops when you talk again.

"But I am grateful and happy because... over my entire life, I finally know and feel what happiness is and what love means." That's when Natasha hugs you, rubbing your back.

"But it's too much......I don't want to feel it anymore. It hurts." You sob on her shoulder.

Natasha's own tears roll down her cheeks while she shushing you, holding you, and comforting you while you sob, letting go of every emotion you bottled up.

"Let it all out, baby. Let it all out. I'm here. I'm not going to leave. Just let it all out." Natasha whispers in your ear while you hold on to her shirt tightly like your life depends on it.

"I hate it." Your sob subsides a little, and you tuck your head on her neck, already tired, and keep whispering, 'I hate it.

"I know...shhh, I know. I know, love. I know," she whispers, running her hand over your hair.

"Help me," you whisper, looking up at her eyes, so when she meets your eyes, she smiles and nods, happy that you're opening yourself to her and letting her in.

"I will.....I will be by your side every step of the way. Ok, cause I love you so much. I'm not going to leave you, ok?" your lips starting to quiver while looking up at her eyes.

"You love me?" A spark in your eyes didn't go unnoticed by Natasha, and she smiled, nodding.

"Of course, I'm your wife, and I'm going to put a ring on those gorgeous fingers someday." Natasha kissed your forehead, and she saw Clint running in your direction with two towels and one umbrella.

"Now let's go inside; you're shivering. You're going to get cold." You again buried your face on her chest while shaking your head, making her chuckle.

"But I like the rain," and that's when Clint quickly put the umbrella under your heads.

"Oh my god.......I thought something happened to the both of you!" Clint exclaimed, putting the umbrella he's using between his shoulders and checking while wrapping the towel around the both of you.

Dad," and you hug him, so he hugs you back tightly; it's been a while since he's been able to hug you.

"Let's go home now, sweetheart." With that, Clint wrapped his arm around your shoulder and led you and Natasha back to the house.

—

Since then Natasha always with you, she still read you book, tell you stories and help you every ups and downs on your life, she even take you for a ride every now and then, going into different places where she knows you will love and she even give you flowers even if she just steal some on the garden of your parents or someone else

With the help of your now-lover and your family, the team is constantly visiting you, and you've healed from a big rough patch.

Hey, you leave me for a sec there? "You snapped out of your thoughts, looking at your girlfriend for over 6 months now, who's been lying beside you in your sahred bed, in your shared bedroom; it's actually Natasha's bedroom, but she insists that you should move in, so every time you're in the compound, your room is Natasha's.

"Sorry" you whisper with a shy smile.

"That's ok, my love." She smiled, then started to tickle you.

"It's a tickle monster," she said, and she started to tickle your stomach, which made you squeal and try to get out of her grip.

"St-stop Natty... please," you laugh out loud, pushing her hand away.

"What? I can't hear you!"You scream when her fingers start to tickle your most ticklish spot, which is your armpit.

"NAAATTYYYY!" You scream, and she suddenly stops looking down at you, and you pant heavily.

"You ok?" she asked, taking a deep breath to get some needed air.

"Yeah," you look up and giggle, then her dementor changes; she looks like she is thinking deeply while examining your face structure.

"Nat?" you whisper, putting your hand on her right check. She sighs and leans on your hand.

"You look like an angel, my darling, and I really love you so much," she whispered, kissing your palm and laying down beside you, pulling you in so now your back is facing her, cuddling, her being the big spoon and you're the small spoon.

"And I really love you too, my big bear," You whisper, hugging her arm that's wrapped around your waist.

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 6 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, lots of fluff, Harris and Wayne making us all cry

WC: 1.3k

Divider credit to @saradika

June 1999

“Harris! Lunchtime!” you call out from the kitchen, balancing three plates in your hands, crunchy peanut butter and grape jelly slathered between WonderBread slices atop each one. A gourmet meal, Grandma would have teased, but she wouldn’t deny the simple deliciousness of a PB&J sandwich. 

Eddie saunters in first, taking two of the plates from you and placing them on the dining room table. “Need me to grab anything else?” he asks, watching as you suck peanut butter residue off your thumb. “Like, maybe your boobs?” He grins, crossing his arms over his chest against a faded Corroded Coffin t-shirt. 

You playfully roll your eyes, setting the last plate at your spot. “Could you slice up an apple for Harris? I’ll pour us some lemonade and then get his gift from our room.”

“Puttin’ me to work on Father’s Day weekend,” he grumbles, but the smirk curling his plush lips betrays him. He grabs a Red Delicious from the refrigerator and cuts it into eighths, careful not to nick his ringed fingers. 

You pluck the gift bag from its hiding spot underneath your bed, re-fluffing the yellow tissue paper as though Harris will notice that it’s askew. 

Eddie’s tongue swipes at the apple’s juices on his fingers and calls for your son once more. “Harris! If you don’t get your behind in here now, you won’t get your surprise!”

The TV clicks off instantly. “My surprise?” He races into the kitchen, stopping short and skidding in his socks to avoid colliding with the counter’s edge. “Where’s my surprise?”

“You can open it while you eat lunch,” you reason, swinging the bag between your pinched thumb and forefinger. Harris plops in his seat, takes an enormous bite of his sandwich, and holds out his hand for the present. You relent with a laugh, nerves buzzing as he tears into it. 

Harris is momentarily confused when he pulls out a book, studying the cover intently. “The Berenstain Bears New Baby?” he asks quizzically, looking between you and Eddie for a clue. 

“Why do you think we’d buy you a book about a new baby?” Eddie teases, trying to lead him to the answer. 

You both watch as the proverbial gears turn in the boy’s head, his eyes widening when it clicks. “Am I getting a baby?” A squeal builds up in his throat, the excitement palpable. 

“Mhm. In about five months, you, Harris Munson,” you tell him, poking his chest with your pointer finger, “are going to be a big brother.”

“Mommy’s growing the baby in her belly right now,” Eddie elaborates, beaming as the words resonate with him once again. 

Harris leaps from his chair, bumping into the table and nearly toppling his glass of lemonade in the process, but he hardly notices. “We’re having a baby! We’re having a baby!” He cheers, waving the book high in the air. A slip of paper falls out, floating down to his feet. 

“That’s my latest ultrasound. It shows what the baby looks like and how he or she is growing,” you explain as he picks it up from the floor. 

He squints at it to make heads or tails of the grainy photos. “When do we know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“At my next appointment in about five weeks.”

He hums in acknowledgment, still focused on the sonogram. “It kinda just looks like a blob,” he says cautiously, as though breaking the news that the fetus in your womb is a gelatinous creature. 

Eddie chuckles, kissing Harris’s wild curls. “Yeah, but it’ll look more like a baby soon, I promise.”

Harris exhales a relieved sigh, launching himself into your arms with a barrage of questions. 

“What are we gonna name it?”

“Is it gonna sleep in my room?”

“Do I have to change its diapers?”

“Are you sure it’s gonna look like a baby?”

It’s your turn to laugh and ruffle his hair. “Slow down there, Har. We can talk about all of that stuff later. Right now,” you lower your voice but keep all of the exuberance, “we need you to do us a super special favor.”

“A super special favor?” His face lights up and he leans in to ensure he hears you correctly. 

“Yup. Grampa Wayne still doesn’t know about the baby, and we were hoping you could make a Father’s Day card that helps us tell him.” You watch as he unlatches himself from around you and scampers off to find his art kit. “That was easy enough,” you say to your husband, who affirms this with a smile-laced kiss. 

Eddie shrugs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “To be honest, I was expecting him to be even—”

“I’M GONNA BE A BIG BROTHER!” Harris’s ecstatic shriek interrupts him, compounded with the pounding of his feet as he jumps up and down. 

“There it is.”

You all pile into the car the following afternoon to celebrate Father’s Day at Wayne’s trailer. Harris buckles himself into his booster seat, the homemade card clutched securely in his hand. Eddie rolls down the window, turning the crank until it’s halfway cracked, letting the warm June breeze tickle his face.

From the backseat, Harris whines, “Dad, be careful! I don’t want Grampa’s card to fly out the window.”

“Don’t worry; we’re not going fast. Just taking the backroads.”

He seems to be content with this promise, but you notice his grip tighten just a bit.

Wayne waits for your arrival, stubbing out his cigarette on the trailer steps as soon as he sees you pull in. His naturally stoic expression dissipates into a wide grin and he pushes himself to his feet, tugging on Harris’s door handle as soon as Eddie throws the car in park.

“Happy Father’s Day, Grampa!” Harris shouts, flinging his arms around him. Wayne reciprocates eagerly, holding his grandson in a loving embrace. “Look at your card!”

Eddie laughs, shaking his head in amusement as he stretches his legs out of the car. “Real subtle, Har.”

Wayne takes the piece of construction paper from Harris, retrieving his reading glasses from where they’re hanging out of his breast pocket and sliding them up the bridge of his nose. “Let me see here,” he muses, scanning the drawing in front of him. “A family portrait, huh? This is gonna go right on the fridge.” He starts back towards the front door, but Harris stops him.

“No, Grampa, look!” Harris impatiently points to where he’s drawn your prominently rounded abdomen, much more obvious than your actual burgeoning bump. “That’s Mommy.”

Wayne’s eyebrows raise, glancing between you and Eddie for confirmation before he says anything further. 

“You’re gonna be a grandpa again, Old Man,” Eddie tells him, resting his hand on your stomach and rubbing it gently. “There’ll be another little mischief maker joining us in November.”

“You’re serious?” Wayne’s eyes mist over, visible even behind the lenses. When you nod, rife with emotion, he ambles over for a hug. “Oh, my word. Nearly got me blubberin’ over here.” He pulls back only to rest his glasses atop his head, wiping his tears with his shirt sleeve.

Harris tugs on his grandfather’s free hand. “Dad said you’re gonna change all the poopy diapers.” He giggles, exposing the gap where a tooth is newly missing after weeks of being wiggly.

“Is that so?” Wayne chuckles, looking directly at Eddie before bringing his attention back to Harris. “Well, I’ll tell ya what: I’ll change the baby’s diapers if Dad changes mine once I’m real old.”

Eddie tries to protest, but you cut him off. “Sounds like a good deal to me.”

“Nope, no way” your husband argues, waving his arms in disgust, “I’m throwing you in a home the moment you can’t wipe your own–”

“Eddie!” you admonish before he can utter another word.

“I was gonna say ‘tush.’”

--

[distantlcver]

Councillor!Sevika + Wife!Sevika x Fem!Reader

- married life and stuff :)

“Any mistakes are made out of pure hatred and disrespect for this language. The English have taken enough from this world, I will not let them have my tongue as well.” -ao3 author

She watches the Food Network in her free time and the cooking segments on PBS on the weekends to destress. Sitting on the council is not the most appealing in terms of engagement and overall work expectations, not to mention her “uppity colleagues,” as she calls them.

It’s mindless and empty, but entertaining enough to grab her attention—a small escape from the towering piles of paperwork, files, and documents she has to look over before the sun rises again. She’ll lean back on the sofa, shedding the day's stress, and watch skilled hands assemble a gourmet bolognese or some fancy steak arranged like a flower with hand-churned and seasoned butter.

She’ll tuck you under her arm, play with your hair as you watch together, and point to the final dish on the screen before she scoffs:

“I could make that shit,” she mumbles. “Of course, honey,” you say, and kiss her hand.

neither of you could make that shit

─────── ✶ ───────

After many failed attempts at communication—when emotions were high and the air especially tense—you both came to an agreement that something had to change.

She watches her tongue around you and tries (emphasis on tries) to mind her temper and regulate any frustrations that come with the day job. She’s mindful of her language, making sure not to curse when speaking to you as a sign of respect and overall consideration. It takes time, and she’s not perfect, but she tries.

That doesn’t stop her from the occasional string of curses you hear coming from the home office when she encounters errors in paperwork or remembers another meeting she has to attend.

In turn, you try to be more patient and understanding of the dedication and time her new role takes from your time together.

You visit her during lunch and push dinner back late to make sure you both can eat together. You walk her home from work on nights when she’s in the office particularly late.

She puts an and to the reeaaalll quick refusing to let you walk the streets alone so late at night. She scolds you for insisting, arguing that you’re just too impatient, and stubborn.

“You’re too cute, baby. Someone’s gonna snatch you up,” "I'm not a child sev-," "I know baby, but Just wait for me please ," she whispers, "I’m always comin' home—you know that.”

─────── ✶ ───────

She has an extensive collection of old R&B and jazz records she plays when fixing things around the house or doing chores. Mindlessly tapping and humming along to the beat

Her record player is an old, shoddy thing she built herself as a teenager, made out of recycled parts she found in scrap yards and junk drawers. the speakers muffle to sound every now and then blending together the lyrics with the background vocals and acoustics.

Even with her role on the council —and more-than-satisfactory salary, she refuses to buy a new one.

She plays Marvin Gaye’s “Mercy Mercy Me” on repeat while working and swings you around to “Two Can Have a Party,” because neither of you can really dance.

─────── ✶ ───────

✧ small bonus

She insists on fixing everything herself and doesn’t believe in hiring anyone to do anything.

her philosophy: “If I can’t fix it, I shouldn’t own it,”

When you finally hire someone behind her back, she hovers incessantly, making sure they don’t mess anything up, mumbling curses whenever they touch something. She side-eyes you with a *what the fuck* look.

─────── FIN ───────

[luveline]

thought of a cute eddie and roan request!! since it’s almost summer time they go to the pool or beach?? roans having a blast

thank you!! dad!eddie takes you and his baby for a trip to the beach (lake)!! this is when they haven't been together as long and roan is younger!! dad eddie x fem!reader ♥︎ 3k

Eddie's daughter is nearly five years old, about 3ft 5in, and weighs less than fifty pounds. She has slightly chubby cheeks, a huge smile, and she has never been this excited in her life. 

"I swear I've taken her on vacation before," Eddie says, his eyes moving between the road, the side of your face, and Roan's joyous expression in the rear view mirror almost frantically. 

You push your sunglasses up your nose. "I believe you. I've seen the photos, Edward." 

He snorts. "You know that's not my name." 

"But it makes derision much funnier to call you something formal."

"You usually go with Munson." 

"I'm feeling festive today, it's such a good day." 

Roan agrees from the back with a small shout. 

You turn in your seat before Eddie can, eyes creased with affection when you see her again. Roan is in her best summer dress with her hair braided back out of her face, ending before her ears so her curls can take centre stage. She's got her delicate blue cardigan on, and a sandwich in her hands. You've been trying to break the long drive into smaller bits for her with snacks and songs, and it's worked thus far. 

"Do you want another sandwich, baby?" you ask, clicking open the the tupperware in your lap. "We've only got PB and J left, Eds. Can I give her that? I don't wanna ruin her dress." 

"If she wants it," he says, shrugging. His expression is cut short as he turns the wheel sharply to the side. "Woah! Sorry, ladies, I almost missed the turn. What a loser."

You tear Roan's sandwich into a smaller one and hand it back through the seats. "Try not to get it on your dress, princess, it's so pretty," you plead. 

"I won't," she says. As soon as you hand her the sandwich she drops it on her skirts. She's just old enough to understand what's happened, and giggles like she thinks she's about to be told off. 

You've seen Eddie do it enough times. Roan drops a crust or spills a drink and Eddie pretends to be cross, eyebrows drawn together in an unconvincing glare. "Roan," he always says, and if he can reach he chucks her under the chin with his knuckle, "how dare you. You know accidents aren't allowed." 

It warms your heart that her reaction to a potential chastisement is laughter. 

Roan has firmly passed baby stage: she doesn't look like a big baby, she looks like a very small child, with deceptively long arms and legs. She waves one leg toward you and says in her high-pitched, sometimes illegible voice, "My shoe's coming off." 

Her shoe isn't coming off, but the buckle around her ankle has come undone. 

"Oh no," you dote, leaning through the two front seats of Eddie's car to help. "What happened? You're too happy, babe, all your dancing must've wiggled the buckle free."

"I'm too happy," she agrees, "we're going to the beach now." 

"We're nearly there," Eddie says. 

Indiana Beach is an amusement park on Lake Shafer ninety miles away from Indianapolis, which is a good eighty miles from Hawkins. If you were to draw this journey on a map, it would look like the hands of a clock at three thirty, or a 'Y' without one of its eyes. With Eddie's cautious driving but not much traffic, it had taken you guys nearly three hours from the time you set off from his trailer at seven in the morning to now. It's an aching amount of time to confine a child, and Roan hasn't slept a wink, so her happy attitude is miraculous and perhaps precarious. 

Which is to say, you smother her in love and hope it will keep her from becoming too agitated. You and Eddie have already discussed the possibilities of her behaviour — if she started a screaming crying tantrum as she sometimes does, Eddie would pull over and you'd climb in the back. If your company didn't help, he'd pull over again and you'd take a break wherever you were. If she still didn't improve, you'd think about going home. The point of the trip is for Roan to have fun.

You can see the Galaxi from a mile away, a huge curling roller coaster on the Indiana Beach pier. Eddie starts grinning, really smiling, the kind you don't get to see very often. He smiled like that when he asked you to be his girlfriend outside of the Hawk movie theatre, and he smiled worse when you told him you loved him for the first time, your hand pressed against his chest and your face hiding in the crook of his neck. 

"Ro!" he says loudly, turning onto a side street in search of the parking lot, "look, baby! Can you see the lake? The beach? It's so sunny, oh my goodness." 

His hand reaches across for you. He squeezes your leg roughly, and it aches in the best way, fingertips digging into the soft inside of your thigh. You can't help laughing, pleasantly startled by his obvious joy. 

Roan starts talking and you're sorry but you're not an expert in her warbling yet, not when she's speaking a mile a minute. You catch "beach," and "sunshine," and "daddy!" but that's about it. 

He drives into a ticket parking lot a fifteen minute walk from the pier and finds a space with ease. You quickly undo your belt and get out, stretching your arms behind your back and leaning forward to roll your neck out. You're sore from all the back and forth, attention split between Eddie and Roan for the last three hours. 

Eddie gets out on the other side, and he should get Roan's stroller first, but it was never going to happen. He opens Roan's door and the excited stream of chatter increases between the both of them. You come around the back of the car and watch him pull her out of her car seat, fussing over her skirts and her hair and her tiny shoes. He makes one of those heaving dad groans when he picks her up, one arm skewed under her butt and the other behind her back. It's more hug than carry. 

"Hey, baby," he says, "how's that? Is it nice to be out of the car?" His hand moves to her legs. "Should we do some walking and stretching?" 

He rubs her legs. 

"Daddy, it's sunny, it's like– like with Uncle Wayne, when'd he says that the sunshine is out to play," she says, her hands moving from her chest and into the air above her head like a burst. "It's not messing around!" 

You laugh, your heart melted to a wet goo. Eddie gives you an eyeful, as if to say, Yeah, I made her, that's my kid, and I know she's the cutest thing on God's green earth, thank you very much for noticing. 

"It's not," he agrees, putting her down on the ground. You stand a little ways away, knowing she won't run into traffic but worried anyhow. 

Eddie holds one of her hands and Roan puts the other one back in the air, stretching up big and tall. Eddie strokes a hair behind her ear, and his thumb lingers affectionately on her cheek. 

"Will you wear your hat?" he asks. 

"Do you have a hat?" 

"Uh, no, daddy doesn't have one," he says. 

"But I do!" you butt in.

They turn to look at you. You open the trunk, digging through your packed bags to find the sunhat you'd brought with you. You pop it on your head and turn to smile at them. "See? So you wear yours and we'll be matching." 

Roan doesn't hesitate to crowd your legs. You grab her hat from her 'baby' bag and place it carefully on her head. It hides her beautiful hairdo, but it'll keep her safe from the heat. She looks you in the face and grins. 

"Beautiful," you compliment. 

Eddie doesn't look quite as summer ready as you both. His hair is down, shiny clean but unlikely to stay that way considering the heat. He's wearing blue denim rather than black, something he'd spoken of with horror but more than pulls off, and a black Motorhead t-shirt. There's one chain around his neck that he never takes off, but besides that he's sans jewellery. 

"Roan," he says, "we're gonna walk to the pier to stretch our legs, but you have to hold hands. And you can sit down in the stroller when they're tired again." She nods hurriedly at the idea that she'll be free for a while. "Okay. Alright." 

Eddie gets her stroller out and unfolds it, putting her baby bag in the seat. You rake your fingers through the ends of Roan's hair while you wait, the sun warming the back of your neck already. 

Eddie locks the car, and the three of you start toward the pier. Roan holds your hand and Eddie pushes the stroller out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk that leads to the pier. 

The smell of salt tickles your nose. Roan's hand flutters in yours like a hummingbird, excited gasps breaching her lips when you pass an ice cream stand bragging rainbow cotton candy bigger than her head, kaleidoscope gelato, Popsicles in cherry red, raspberry blue and lime green. Her eyes widen at the sight of huge diamond kites, yellow rubber dinghies, surfboards and wetsuits dripping water down sandy ankles. 

You know Eddie's been saving. He confessed, when you'd brought up your concern one night, that he wants her to have everything. 

What's going on? you'd asked, frowning at his bedraggled face after another late shift. You knew Wayne had been picking Roan up from daycare to let him keep working, and it just hadn't been like Eddie to do that. You can tell me anything.

You'd been expecting, regrettably, money troubles. The Munson's aren't rich but they've never been hurting for money since you met, and all these extra hours has you assuming the worst. 

Eddie rubbed a tired eye. I just want her to have everything. I don't want to say no. Not even once. When we go on vacation, I want her to point at things and I want her to know how it feels to be able to have them without a fight. 

Admirable, a tinsy bit silly. Of course he wants that, isn't that what everyone wants for their children? Admirable, because he wanted it and he worked for it, and he saved up enough to bring Roan here and spoil her within an inch of her life. Silly, because Roan doesn't ask for much. She does ask for stuff, of course, but she's not gonna beg him for a two hundred dollar professional kite, or state of the art arm floaties. But just because you think it's a little silly doesn't mean you aren't incredibly in love with him, impressed by and proud of his efforts. 

He wants to get Roan everything. And so they start with shaved ice. 

It's the second stand you see, just off of the pier with a long, long line. Eddie scoops her up off of the floor so she can see the different flavour combinations, and it's no surprise when she chooses all the pinks and red. Strawberry, cherry, and pink lemonade. The cone is bigger than her hands and costs a ridiculous seven dollars. 

The small smile on Eddie's lips when he can crack out a crisp twenty dollar bill and hand it over makes you smile, too. It's satisfying. All that hard work was worth it for this moment. 

And the moment after. Eddie takes the snow cone and Roan audibly sighs. 

"Oh, my gosh," she says. 

You laugh. Eddie looks at you from over his shoulder and beams. 

Roan wants to do everything, as Eddie predicted. She plays arcade games she's too short for, hoisted up on his knee or in your arms, face screwed in concentration every time, and though the controls escape her she loves hitting the big red button and watching the claw come down. 

But she also wants stuff money can't buy. She wants Eddie to hug her when the clown walks past because he's big and bright and a little scary. She wants kisses when they stand at the side of the pier to look at the lake, blue and clear as an ocean, and drops some of her own against Eddie's sweaty cheek when she's been loved up. She wants you both to swing her by the hand when you're walking down the ramp to the beach, which is difficult but not impossible with the stroller in Eddie's other hand. 

She wants to get ice cream, and a slurpee despite her half eaten snow cone. She wants soft pretzels and churros and a hotdog with extra onions. She wants a surfboard, and you dissuade Eddie from getting her one of the proper ones in favour of a floatie. 

She wants you to put the finishing touches on her crumbly sand castles, and to cuddle in your lap when Eddie makes her drink from a cold bottle of water. When you've been sat in the sun so long that your brain is jellified and you have more sand in your shoes than sock, she springs up from her stomach where she'd been kicking her little feet drawing smiley faces in the sand and demands you take her down to the waterfront. You leave your towels on and the stroller further up the bank and pray for the best, and Eddie peels out of his t-shirt and rolls up his pants a couple of feet from the water. Eddie pulls her sandy dress off to reveal the swimming costume she'd been wearing underneath, a bright yellow costume with a skirt, not too tight to hurt, and bends down at the waist to talk to her as they wait for the water to rush in. You encourage armbands over her elbows. 

"It's gonna be cold, Ro, so we have to run in! Are you ready?" 

"I'm super ready!" she says, squeezing his hand and squaring her shoulders. 

You secure her bands and take her other hand into your right hand, your shoes in your left, bracing yourself for the shock. 

You run in full pelt and screaming with joy. Roan's voice turns into a stream of "oh my god oh my gosh daddy pick me up'd it's too cold oh my gosh," as the water covers your calves and her waist. Eddie immediately leans down to pick her up, out of choices and surprised by her loud aversion. Water stains him from knee to navel. 

"It's not that bad, babe," he says, though he meets your gaze over her head and mock glares at your shaking head. It's freezing. "We just have to get used to it. Ready?" 

He doesn't let her get ready. He doesn't let you get ready. He grabs your wrist and pulls you with him, fighting the cold as the gentle lake tide laps at your waists. 

"Eddie, our pants!" you protest. You'd brought spare clothes in case of any accidents. This is decidedly not an accident. 

"Please, sweetheart, just come in," he says. 

He should legally be prevented from saying please and sweetheart in the same sentence. You submerge yourself to the waist as he wanted and stand there in the water, the taste of river water heavy on your lips now, splashes of cold wetting higher up your chest. It's close to intolerable, the only saving grace the heavy heat of the sunshine above you.

"How's that, Roanie?" he asks.

He's clearly having a blast. His eyes are brighter than the sun dappling that kisses the waves. 

"It feels squishy," you say, adjusting your footing in the sandy bottom of the lake. 

"This is so FUN!" Roan shouts, letting go of Eddie's neck to put her hands in the water. She splashes the surface and soaks Eddie's t-shirt to the neck in the process. 

You almost fall over trying to find his waist in the blue. You wrap and arm around Roan and Eddie wraps and arm around you, the three of you much too deep in the lake and with no plans of turning around just yet. 

"This is so fun," he says, kissing her cheek, kissing yours. "We should do this every year." 

You smile at his chest. 

You hadn't realised, yet, that he wanted you every year. Roan babbles her agreements, talking about her snow cone and the sunshine and her floatie. She stops suddenly. 

Eddie rubs her shoulder, water shining across her pale skin. "What, babe?" 

"Daddy, where's my floatie?" 

You head back up the beach to find it. Her stroller and your towels have been left alone, but the floatie must've been too tempting. 

Eddie, without complaint, goes to buy another. 

—

more Eddie and Roan ♡

please reblog if you enjoyed, it means so much!

[brayneworms]

— 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

note: please find the complete list of content warnings in the fics themselves, and note that this masterlist will only display the more 'extreme' ones. minors and ageless blogs, do not interact with this post or any of the fics linked.

almost none of these fics will feature sub!reader. reader will either be a dom, switch, or power dynamics won't be explored. almost all readers will be totally gender-neutral, with maybe three exceptions such as amab or afab anatomy.

these kinks, characters and content are subject to change.

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟏

fingering + hinata hajime content. new relationship, gn!reader, post-killing game, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟐

frottage , sexual frustration, virginity + leviathan content. virgin!levi, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟑

dry humping + sampo koski, tighnari content. hatsex elements, gn reader, tba summary. tba content. inexperienced!tighnari, gn!reader, ear petting, tba summary.

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟒

overstimulation + xiao content. inexperienced!xiao, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟓

face-sitting + hayakawa aki content. afab!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟔

collar/leash + mammon content. light petplay elements, anal fingering, praise kink, gn!reader summary. mammon lost a bet, but he doesn't consider it much of a loss, considering

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟕

praise kink + jolyne cujoh content. afab!fem!reader, switch!reader, established relationship, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟖

chastity + dazai osamu content. gn!reader, brat dazai, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟎𝟗

slutwear + leander content. masochist!leander, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟎

kissing + johnny joestar content. anal fingering, slight internalised ableism, crying summary. johnny's lost all feeling below his waist, but you try to find another way to make him feel good

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟏

teasing + akutagawa ryunosuke content. virgin!akutagawa, gn reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟐

orgasm denial/control, lingerie + sonia nevermind, tanaka gundham content. threesome, switch!reader, gn reader, established relationship, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑

bondage + shenhe, scaramouche content. trust excerises, established relationship, gn reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟒

uniform + belphegor content. nurse!belphegor, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟓

boot worship + al-haitham content. hatesex elements, brat!alhaitham, gn!reader summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟔

body worship + tsukimi shin content. sweet and sappy, gn!reader, established relationship, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟕

blowjob + edogawa ranpo content. amab!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟖

service top/power bottom + cyno content. pb!cyno, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟗

biting + yosano akiko content. gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎

thigh fucking + mhin content. amab!mhin, hatesex elements, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟏

hair pulling + kishibe content. masochist!kishibe, light degradation, gn!reaeder, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟐

sexual exhaustion + komaeda nagito content. gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟑

fancy dress + asmodeus, solomon content. threesome, switch!reader, gn!reader summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟒

bratty sub + urie kuki content. gn!reader, brat urie, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟓

leather + higashiyama kobeni content. inexperienced!kobeni, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟔

wax play + kaneki ken content. kuroneki, masochist!kaneki, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟕

edging + matsuda touta content. soft, gn!reader, post-canon, tba summary. tba

➥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟖

enclosed space + l lawliet content. trapped in a closet, gn!reader, tba summary. tba

[alwaysanundertone]

PB&J | Sirius Black x fem! reader

fluff / comfort

TW: ED MENTIONED! negative self talk, body dysmorphia, mention of skipping meals.

Please, take care of yourself. If you find this content triggering, DO NOT READ THIS. I love you 💜

part 1

This is gonna be a series of stand-alones with the same characters, so stay tuned

You were in front of your mirror, it felt like you’ve been there for hours, looking at every little imperfection: your shoulders were too wide, your arms too bulky, your stomach wasn’t flat, and your waist wasn’t the size of a necklace. The thing you hated the most, though? Your thighs. Every time they touched, you couldn’t help but cringe, reminding you that you weren’t dainty like you wanted to be. You’ve never been the skinny friend, and probably never will.

The worst part was that nobody seemed to notice your sadness, nor the constant change of your eating habits, because you always seemed to be so confidence, to love yourself, but you didn’t: you despised your figure. The fact that none of your friends ever asked you if you were fine was something you had to get used to, no matter how much you hurt, you knew no one would ever be there to talk you out of it, so you had to rely on yourself.

You took a deep breath. You hated this. You hated how sometimes you lost hope, thinking you would never be able to feel good about yourself. As always, after analysing your figure for several minutes, came the anxiety: you started to feel like your skin was itching, begging to be tore apart, and there was nothing you could do about it. It felt like your body was asking you to cut your skin open and remove all of the fat from your body, leaving nothing but bones.

You slowly sat down, your back now pressed again the hard and cold surface, trying desperately not to sob out loud, feeling pathetic. Your breath became laboured, and you knew that the anxiety attack was about to come down.

Suddenly, you heard a knock on the door. “Y/N? Did you forget about our study date?”

You wanted to slap yourself, hard. How could you have forgotten about this? You’ve yearned for some alone time with Sirius Black since you first laid eyes on him, and now you were looking like a rat, your eyes red and puffy, hair dishevelled, wearing a hoodie and leggings.

Great. Just great, who doesn’t want to have spend some quality time with their crush looking awful?

“Y/N? Are you okay?” His voice had a slight edge to it, like he was concerned. You must be daydreaming; Sirius Black couldn’t possibly be concerned about you, no one had ever been.

“Yeah” You cringed at how your voice sounded. “Yeah, I’m just not feeling well, you know?”

You heard him chuckle. “I call bullshit, angel. I saw you in the Great Hall earlier, and, by the way, I saw you didn’t eat at all, so I brought you some snacks” You widened your eyes, he noticed that? “Now that we’ve established that you are not sick, could you let me in? If you don’t, I’ll have to resort to more…  unethical methods”

You ran to the door, opening it. As soon as you saw the long-haired guy, your breath got stuck in your throat: he was leaning against the doorframe, sporting a manbun, some of his curls escaping the hair tie and falling gracefully on his face. His leather jacket was open, showing a Radiohead t-shirt, you felt weak.

His reaction wasn’t the same as yours, quite the opposite: when he acknowledge your red, puffy eyes and the tear streaks of mascara that adorned your cheeks, his joyful expression turned into a worried one.

“Love, what happened? Are you hurt?” The distraction Sirius’s appearance provided ceased to function, now you were back in the black hole that occupied your mind. Still, you couldn’t tell this to Sirius, you weren’t even friends.

“Yes, yes, it’s the pollen, you know”

“Darling, it’s the 20th of December…” His eyes softened a bit.

Damn. “I meant the dust, sorry. Anyways, we should be getting started, come” You sat at your desk, inviting him to sit next to you.

He opened the bag. “Listen, I didn’t know what you’d fancy as a snack, so I brought a bit of everything. There’s some toast, could make you a PB and jelly if you’d like, mine are the best” He winked at you. “But I also have some chips if you want something savoury, oh and I also have some chicken and potatoes if you’re hungry”

“I… I’m not, but thanks for bringing me food, it’s a shame it will go to waste”

He frowned. “You’ve been skipping what, like three meals in a row? You must be hungry, frankly I wanted to step in and hand feed you at lunch, but I figured you would have been embarrassed, so I stopped myself, but now you have to east something”

You frowned. “I swear, I’m not-“As you were about to finish your sentence, your stomach growled violently, Sirius shotting you a pointed look.

“So, sweet or savoury?”

You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t, not wanting to leave a bad impression on your crush. “Sweet.”

He seemed way to happy about it. “Perfect, so I get to make you my specialty, I swear you will be addicted to it”

As you took a bite out of the damned sandwich, you realized that it was good, and not just because he was the one to make it: you had to stop yourself from moaning slightly, having something to eat after such a long fast was definitely a heaven-like experience. Under his close scrutiny, you finished up your snack, then getting started on your work.

[prlncessbzmbi]

I know you said it was going to take while, but can you do everyone(sperate) x goth!fem!Reader dating headcannons?

gothic.

the outsiders (separate) x goth!f!reader.

contains. gothic!f!reader.

a/n. sorry if this isn’t really goth! i tried my best, but my style is polar opposite!

pb. curtis.

- he would be a little bit scared when he first met you.

- after getting to know one another better, he would really fall for you.

- loves all your flowy dresses and darker outfits.

- as a greaser, he understands what its like to be made fun of for your outfits or hair, so its definitely something you both understand.

- if somebody’s making fun of you, he would not hesitate to call them out.

- he tries to pick you up gifts he’d think you like.

- don’t expect this boy to come dwelling in scary places with you! he’d freak out and probably pass out!

- overall, he’s super accepting of how you dress, and he’s mostly indifferent to it.

j. cade.

- unlike his friend ponyboy, he wouldn’t be very freaked out.

- i feel like he’d be into goth girls anyway, and all the dark stuff doesn’t phase him much.

- he’s honestly so in love with goth girls.

- if a goth girl asked him to jump, he’d ask how high.

- if anyone has anything to say, he’d probably knock their teeth out on the spot.

- he’d buy you just about anything you’d ask for, or steal it.

- overall, he’s head-over-heels for you, and he doesn’t care much about the goth stuff. he loves you for you.

d. winston.

- he’d be much like johnny, and not gaf about what you wear.

- a bad bitch is a bad bitch to him, regardless of style or anything.

- he’d follow you blindly to any freaky place you’d want to go.

- he wouldn’t be scared to show you off, and he’d defend you if anybody had something to say.

- expect some teasing nicknames, however.

- he’d steal you anything you’d find interesting.

- if he see’s you eyeing something, he’d get it on the spot.

- overall, he’s real good about it, and loves you regardless of what style you have.

d. curtis.

- he’s a pretty traditional guy, he wasn’t horrified by you, but he was a little surprised.

- he’d definitely be thinking about how pretty you are.

- as he get’s to know you better, the makeup and outfits draw him to you even closer.

- any money not spent on the boys would automatically be used to buy gifts for you.

- makeup, clothes, anything you find appealing.

- most people are scared of darry, so nobody would probably talk shit about you in front of him.

- but, if someones talking ill about you behind the both of you, he stands on business. (knocks a tooth clean out.)

- he really loves you for you at the end of the day, and doesn’t care about what anyone has to say.

sp. curtis.

- like his brothers, he’s a bit surprised, but he still finds you real pretty.

- he’s quick to make moves on you, and he doesn’t care what other people think.

- once you guys get together, he sticks to you like glue.

- would also get into a fight if someone had something to say.

- he’s quick to get pissy at girls trying to flirt with him, yet they talk down on you.

- he’s really in love, and doesn’t give a damn about what other people think or have to say.

[fandomnerd9602]

Planning Jitters

Fem!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

The colors are all wrong. I can’t find the right dress. These were the thoughts running through Petra Parker’s mind. She hadn’t had her prom yet and here she was planning her wedding to you, the son of the legendary Tony Stark.

The wedding, along with its usual stresses and jitters, had brought a whole new set of anxieties and worries to the forefront of Petra’s mind. It was all too much for her.

You were loving and gentle with her. Everything a young woman like Petra could want in a husband. The downside was the jokes and jeering that she got at Midtown High.

Guys were jealous of you and girls were jealous of her. There was constant snide remarks of how quickly you two were tying the knot. Rumors spread of her faking a pregnancy or how she was only marrying you for the money.

All of it along with the worries she had led Petra to sit on the Empire State Building. Her feet dangling over the edge. The wind in her hair. The distant sound of cars and people. It all allowed her mind to ease for five seconds or so.

Then came the metallic clank of a power suit behind her.

“Hey Spider Monkey” you said with a gentle smile. “Why do all our talks lead us here?”

“It’s a great view” she shrugged. Petra patted the spot next to her, silently inviting you to join her. You gladly did.

“So what’s eating you?”

“Our wedding plans.” Petra bit her lip, “and everything afterwards”

“O-oh” you blushed a little.

“It scares and excites me. I-I wanna spend my life with you. But are we moving too fast?”

“We don’t have to get married right after high school. We can wait til after college.” You rub the back of your neck. “It scares me too”

“Really?” She looks to you, her hazelnut eyes reflecting the sunlight perfectly.

“Dad gave me the talk when I was younger and I-I don’t want to hurt you. Both in the physical sense and the emotional sense.”

“Y/N…”

“I love you, Petra. But can I be the husband you need? I want to be but I…I’m scared.”

Petra wraps you in a hug as you hug her tight back.

“We’ll solve this together. Maybe we are perfect for each other” she giggles.

“I think we are.” You smiled back. “And don’t listen to those idiots in the hallway. I’ll buy out all their works when they’re older and then fire them.”

“Don’t!” Petra giggles. Her stomach grumbles, “aw crap. I didn’t have-“

You summon your suit and pull our two PB&J sandwiches. Your spider monkey can’t help but smile.

The jitters would pass as would the jeering in the hallway, but your love for Petra Parker will remain eternal 

Tags: @ma1egamer @jacenradio7 @supercorpdanbeau @multi-fandom-enjoyer @holiday-house-of-m @tokufighter @family-house-of-m @ab1nsur @russianredassassin @revanshand @iamnicodemus @iiconicsfan25

[yeehawbrothers]

Inverted PB&J-11th Doctor x Fem! reader

I'm alive guys.

This was a request from a lovely fellow 11th lover, I wrote it platonically, but if you ignore a few words it could be romantic. I also wrote the reader as American, just because I am. (I also zoned out while writing this and do not remember most of it)

“Do you think it could be considered a federal crime to eat inverted peanut butter and jelly?” She asked, hands covered in grease, sparks flying almost catching her hair on fire, and her best friend beside her, in the same state. “Inverted?” He looked up from the wires in his hands, his grease and dirt covered face, also covered in confusion. “Yeah like,” an explosion of sparks behind her interrupted her statement, before she spun around and used her sonic to tame it momentarily. “If you put the peanut butter and jelly on the bread normally, right? And then instead of putting them like, face to face, you turned them outward.” She stared at him as he seemed to process her words. “Oh, yeah. That’s absolutely a crime” he nodded, as they both went back to what they were doing. 

Behind them, Amy and Rory stared at them in question, before turning to each other with faces of pure bewilderment. 

Amy slowly stood and walked towards the two timelords, crouched under the ball of wires. “Inverted peanut butter and jelly? Where on earth did that come from?” A shot of sparks erupted in the timelords face as she stopped her work momentarily, the metaphorical cogs in her mind visibly turning. “Boston, I think. In like, 1901.” She said, with a small smile. “What?” She tilted her head slightly, “You asked where peanut butter and jelly came from, Boston. In the early 1900s.” She paused, “But if you’re asking about inverted peanut butter and jelly, I don’t know that. I’ll find to find out though.” She turned back to her work, as Amy shook her head and walked back to where Rory was sitting watching the scene unfold. 

“What was that about?” Rory said as he watched his wife flop down on the makeshift bench beside him. “Who knows.” They turned back to watch the two timelords who were now bickering over the wire placement, before all went silent as the lights flickered and a pounding was heard on the metal doors. The two timelords looked towards the door, before turning to each other and immediately standing up. The Doctor began quickly scanning the room as his right-hand woman ran to where Amy and Rory sat. “Hey so, we should probably start running.” As if on que, the metal doors flew off the hinges into the room. “Right, let’s go.” The Doctor ran over, grabbing her hand as they began to run down the hall to the Tardis.

 They stopped, allowing their two companions to run ahead into the welcoming blue doors of the tardis. The Doctor lightly pushed her ahead of him into the box, running in last and slamming the doors behind him. The two ran up to the main console and began flicking switches and pulling levers causing the Tardis to take off with a violent shake, before stilling. “wow that was-“ Amy began, before getting cut off by a certain timelord.

 “Why would you use the purple wire for the highest current?” The Doctor froze, looking over at his companion. “Well I-“ The Doctor began stuttering over his words. “No, seriously. It only had the capacity for 5 voltage, and it was running at 25. No wonder the doors were faulty.” She stood, hands on her hips staring him down. “Well if YOU,” he pointed at her, shaking his finger, “Hadn’t gone off about inverted peanut butter and jelly-“ She gasped, “Do NOT blame me Mr.! That was an incredibly valid question. Right?” She turned to the two humans watching the scene unfold. “Well-“ Rory started. “Don’t get them involved!” The Doctor said, “You know what, it doesn’t even matter. Because everyone knows peanut butter and butter is better anyways.” She stomped her foot in detest, “You take that back!” He shook his head, crossing his arms as he looked down at her. “You’re the British one, eating beans on toast or whatever it is, so you have absolutely no credibility on what’s good.” He gasped lightly, “EXCUSE ME? The British one???” She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, I got lucky and am a proud American.” She stood in a fake salute. 

“Listen,” Her hand coming to rest by her side, “All I’m saying is one fried Oreo will change your life.” His tongue stuck out in disgust as he considered the notion. “You American’s and your fried stuff. It’s so unhealthy for you.” She scoffed, “At least we don’t eat like we have no access to real food.” They stood like that for a moment, in a standoff of sorts, the Doctors face one of disgust, and hers smug as could be. Before bursting out in laughter and pulling each other into a tight hug. 

When they broke apart, she wacked him upside the head, hearing Amy snicker and watching the Doctor rub his head. “Don’t ever do that again though, I’m doing the wiring next time.” She pointed, hand on her hip. The doctor stood quickly, taking his turn at coming to a false salute. She shoved him jokingly, before turning back towards the console. “SO. Where to now?” The doctor thought for a moment before running around the console causing the TARDIS to shake and launch into takeoff. All the passengers grabbed a hold of the metal bars circling the console. “I know this amazing place in the Amedromia galaxy! Its- WHOA WHOA WHOA” He was interrupted quickly. “You know I’m banned.” 

Silence fell among the Tardis, “Your-your banned?” The doctor tilted his head slightly. “Yeahhhhh…. So, I accidently stole this like super important religious piece from one of their temples cause I thought it was a free sample.” The doctors face dropped into one of annoyance, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” She became defensive quickly, “Listen- at least I’M not the one who stole that guy’s eye cause he thought it was a Halloween costume.” “HEY, YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T TALK ABOUT THAT AGAIN-“ As they both launched into yet another bickering session, Amy and Rory sighed and shook their heads. “Here we go again.”

Thanks for reading, and thanks to @dinofromspac3 for the request. <3

All the love-A.

-i do not give permission for my work to be copied, translated, or posted anywhere but here on this post.

[stvharrngton]

a lesson in romantics; lesson eight

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

a/n: we are soon coming to end of this series :( i will try to post the next couple of chapters sooner rather than later. there will also be an alternative ending chapter 👀

characters: steve harrington x fem!reader, mentions of background

word count: 1.5k

warnings: angst to reconciliation, mentions of a toxic relationship (no heavy detail), fluffy ending

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @nix-rose

series taglist: @pbs-theundeadmaggot @alana4610 @onceuponaoneshot

SERIES MASTERLIST

THE AQUARIUM, JANUARY 1993

It was field trip day.

A day that Steve had a love hate relationship with. He loved being able to take his kids off somewhere educational yet fun but hated having to watch them all beyond the comfort of his own classroom.

Steve was particularly nervous for another reason. There were three chaperones on this trip, himself, the older biology teacher who didn’t particularly like him and you. He thought it was karma, the universe's way of telling him he did wrong. Either way, he wasn’t looking forward to today.

It had been a couple weeks, almost a month, since the altercation with Steve. You had been awkward and distant with each other, not really engaging in conversation unless you had to. And don’t get it twisted, it’s not that neither of you wanted to speak to one another, but you just really didn’t know what to say.

The short bus journey was terribly awkward, Steve was last on the bus after making sure all the kids got on fine and sure enough the only free seat left was next to you. He shot you a sheepish smile, fingers coming to rub at the hairs on the nape of his neck as he asked you if the seat was taken.

You engaged in small talk but it was nothing like it used to be. The smooth, easy flow of your conversations all but gone. It was funny really, how one short exchange had cast this dark, gloomy cloud over the both of you. You knew something had to give, one of you had to say something, had to address the situation but who would pluck up the courage first? You had no idea.

Steve found himself feeling distracted all day. His brain swirls with thoughts of you, how he should confront you, what he should say. His eyes constantly wander to where you were with your small group of students just up ahead, the deep blue of the water reflecting onto your face, illuminating your features.

“Mr. H?” A small voice spoke up in the background, snapping Steve out of his trance. He spun around on his heel, eyes wide behind his glasses as he tried to search out the source of the voice.

“Yeah, yes. Sorry,” he stuttered, cheeks heating up at how flustered he was becoming. His usual, calm, cool demeanour faltered because he couldn’t stop thinking about you, “Can you repeat the question?”

It was then that Steve decided enough was enough. The tension between you too became insurmountable, too much to handle. When he imagined having this conversation with you in the past week, he never thought he would be doing it in the middle of the school field trip but he was dealt this hand, and Steve was going to roll with it.

When it came around to lunch, the kids scattered across the cafeteria area, he spotted you in the corner on a table with Mr. Cooper. What you didn’t know was that Steve gave the older teacher five bucks before you all broke off for lunch, begging him to give you two five, ten minutes alone.

Steve’s plastic tray clattered against the table as he sat opposite you. Your eyes flitted up to him as you continued to chew the mouthful of your sandwich. His hair was slightly dishevelled, like he’d been pulling on the strands, his tie was off centre, the usual light in his eyes a little dimmer than usual.

“Can we talk, please?” Steve asked quietly, his voice shy, an octave above the bustling noise of the cafeteria.

“Steve, I–,” you sighed, your gaze falling on him properly now.

“Please?” He begged and you immediately grew sympathetic. He looked so dejected, so down. And you couldn’t bear to see him like that for much longer.

You eventually agreed. The air between you felt thick, the atmosphere heavy. You searched your brain for the right thing to say but you came up with nothing. Your mouth was open but no words came out. Luckily Steve was ready to step up to the plate.

“I just–,” he sighed, taking a second to collect his thoughts into something coherent, something that wasn’t just a beg for forgiveness, “I just wanna say I’m sorry if I over stepped and upset you, really, I didn’t mean to. The last thing I would ever want to do is upset you.”

You nodded as Steve spoke, taking in his words for what they were. He spoke with honesty and sincerity, pleading silently with his eyes that you would understand.

“I care about you and I just want what’s best for you,” Steve continued. He never imagined he’d be having this sort of conversation with you but he did care about you and did want the best for you and you deserved to know that, “but I crossed a line and shouldn’t have said what I said and I’m really sorry for that.”

“Steve,” you sighed, a weary smile on your face, “it’s okay, really. I shouldn’t have snapped, my head was all over the place and I just reacted badly, at that.”

A sense of relief washed over you, a tense weight off your shoulders as Steve made the first move. You were glad he did, the awkward atmosphere beginning to weigh you down. You longed for things to go back to how they used to be. Especially now.

“Anyway,” you continued, your shy smile turning into one of sadness, your gaze floating down towards your lunch, “you were right. About my ex, I mean.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed at your statement, his features painting with concern. He glanced at your hand that was lay flat on the table, your nails clacking against the top of the surface. Fuck, did he badly want to reach out and curl his fingers around your own, taking your hand in his to reassure you.

He wished he never asked you what you meant when that cynical smile appeared on your face, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you refused to look Steve in the eye. The fear of him uttering the sullen phrase of I told you so is too big. Steve would never do that to you, could never do that to you.

“We started speaking regularly again after New Years and he started asking me about here and the school and if I’d made any friends,” you started, fingers messing with the sleeves of your woolly sweater, “so I told him about Robin and Nancy and you and it all just sort of went south. Especially when I mentioned you.”

Steve felt an unfathomable rage overcome him. The kind that made the tips of his ears turn red, the kind that made his blood boil inside. Until he remembered he was sat in the middle of an aquarium cafeteria, surrounded by students.

“He just— he just got so angry ‘cause I said I made friends with a guy. Started saying he couldn’t trust me and all that? I never even agreed to get back together at this point, he was just being so nasty, Steve.”

You shrugged your shoulders in an attempt to shake off the guilt you felt, the regret and betrayal soon following after. You felt stupid, if you had to be truthful. Wondering why you couldn’t just listen to Steve. You wouldn’t have had to put yourself through the beration if you did.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he spoke quietly, so as not to irk any of the students close by, “I’m so sorry, you don’t deserve that. I hope you told him so as well.”

You laughed at that and Steve smiled. It was a sound that he used to know well, a sound that he missed dearly.

“I did give him a piece of my mind,” you giggled, “it was a proud moment.”

The field trip was soon over, your time at the aquarium was up. The teachers ushered the kids back to the bus, taking roll call as the hopped on one by one. You took the seat you had sat in on the way here, this time with Steve looking much happier to be sitting next to you.

The bus ride back to Hawkins High was much more mellow, the kids talking amongst themselves in a quieter fashion than you were used to. Your eyes peered out the window as you smiled to yourself; you were just glad that things would be going back to normal with Steve. The tense air had cleared, the slate wiped clean.

You glanced down to your lap where you noticed Steve’s hand was conveniently placed in the middle of the joined bus seat, fingers drumming against the worn down leather as his gaze was focused on the road in front. You took the opportunity to place your hand over his much larger one, your fingers sliding effortlessly through the gaps between his own. Steve immediately turned to look at you, his eyes flitting between you and your delicate hand placed over his.

You said nothing. Simply letting a small smile tug at your lips, your hand squeezing at Steve’s in the middle of the bus seat and that’s how you remained for the journey home.

[starrylothcat]

Hey! I am respectfully submitting "love don't hide your face" for the kissing prompt with ... Hunter 😁

Eyes on Me

Hunter x Fem!Reader One-Shot/Drabble

Warnings: NSFW. 18+. Cunnilingus (spoiler alert)🤭 400 words.

Author’s Note: Thank you for the ask! Kissing with Hunter you say? You’re speaking my language. The prompt didn’t specify where the kissing might be taking place….hehehe.

Kissing Prompt List

Your body was trembling, your mind lost in a pleasurable haze as Hunter nipped and lightly kissed the inside of your thighs, one hand lazily rolling one of your nipples between his calloused fingertips as the other traced up and down your abdomen.

His mouth slowly got closer to your center, paying close attention to the sensitive flesh right at the crook of your inner thigh where your panties were just covering your now desperate pussy. He was really taking his sweet time tonight, but you needed Hunter to do something.

You turned your head, your cheek pressed into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, your one arm slung over your face, the other white knuckling the sheets of the bed.

Your breathing was labored, sighs and moans leaving your lips as Hunter worked his magic.

His deliciously hooked nose grazed across your clothed pussy, lightly rubbing against your now throbbing clit.

Hunter’s hot breath tantalized your core as he pressed his mouth against the fabric, tasting your arousal, letting out a low groan.

You whimpered, your thighs instinctually wanting to squeeze shut around his head.

“Love, don’t hide your face.” Hunter lifted his head to gaze at you, his voice smokey and laced with desire. He momentarily stopped his actions, crawling up on top of you.

He gently removed your arm from your flushed face.

“Is it too much?” He softly asked as you cracked one eye open, not realizing you even had your face covered, too lost in the anticipation and passion.

“No…not at all. You just make me flustered.” You gave him a coy smile as he captured your lips in a deep kiss.

“Just double checking…and you fluster me more, sweetheart.” Hunter rumbled, kissing your cheek before maneuvering himself back down between your legs, your eyes now fully watching him.

“I want to see how I make you feel...” He grinned as he brought his hands to your panties, hooking them with his fingers, sliding them down your thighs.

“Don’t want to miss a thing on that pretty face of yours. And I want you to watch what you do to me. Your scent is driving me wild, I can’t wait to taste you, love.”

Before you could respond, he let out a deep growl at the sight of your pussy, slick with arousal. His hair was falling from his bandana, his composure beginning to slip. He needed you.

“Gorgeous…” was all Hunter murmured before licking a long strip up your pussy, sucking gently on your clit, nibbling on your outer lips, still watching you intently.

You mewled and arched your back at the sensation of his thick tongue working you apart as Hunter lifted your thighs over his shoulders, grasping them with his large hands.

“Don’t take your eyes off me, okay love?” All you could do was nod and his eyes didn’t leave yours the rest of the night.

Taglist: @wanderer-six @the-cantina @pb-jellybeans @523rdrebel

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my fics!