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mae-gi-writes · 3 months ago

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let it be me | kuroo tetsurou (2)

In which you, as a new divorcée, can't help but crush on your 4-year-old's new PE Coach.

genre: singleparent!reader x coach! Kuroo, fluff, acquaintances-to-lovers

taglist: @patpatspatz @matchagirliris @multi-fandom-fanfic @alittlebirdahgaselx @kuroos--little--kitten @menacejelly12 @aeshiue @dreamlessnight @altheades @loonalockley @not-your-average-fangirl @bertqut1 @sunlixfl-blog @nabboo007

a/n: enjoy! <3 thanks for all the love given to the first part of this story! here's the second part. Third part is coming soon ~

---- previous | part two | next part >>>

"He can't be serious."

You sigh and watch the wine in your glass slosh around, creating beautiful patterns along the rim of your glass, "unfortunately, I think he is."

Your cousin has on an expression you can't quite place, in-between disgust and pure confusion. He's at the microwave, busy heating up some popcorn. Having adamantly asked you to sit on his couch while taking care of the snacks, you thus decided to watch Sakura play with her legos along the carpet, keeping a watchful eye in case one might end up in her mouth.

"He's only marrying her for the money," is what he concludes after a small pause.

You snort into your glass, take a sip of it and allow the bitterness to coat your tongue, "I wish that were true."

"How would you know that?"

" 'Tsumu, is it written stupid on my forehead?" your own wrinkles in distaste, "I see the way he looks at her. He's--" you choke on your words then, the knot in your throat growing tenfold, "--he's in love with her."

"Who is in love, mum?"

"No one at all," you're quick to answer upon noticing Sakura has been listening in. She normally doesn't, a kid that enjoys staring off into space and conjuring make-believe stories, where there's magic and only happy endings. You try and force a smile onto your face, "how's the house construction for Princess Peach going?"

Your daughter lets out a laugh as she presents to you a square that looks nothing like a house. Still, you coo at it, "so pretty! I bet princess peach would love it."

Your conversation with Atsumu has to wait until Sakura is tucked away in her uncle's bedroom and has listened to three stories about princesses, before you manage to join him back onto the couch where he's busy watching a rerun of volleyball matches.

You don't get to see him much now, courtesy of the fact that he's a national athlete and has been booked at the big games representing Japan. You couldn't be prouder, and yet his permanent absence does still leave a big hole in your heart whenever he flies over a thousand miles. Atsumu had been your rock since you guys were kids, defending you on the school playground and dragging you around to parties and birthdays without your consent. He'd taken care of you as a big brother would and he still is. You don't know how to repay this kind of kindness.

You're just thankful that he has one week off so that you can rant and ramble about the unfairness of the world. At least with Atsumu here, it appeases the pain, if just a little.

"Have you signed the papers yet?" he asks, handing you the bowl of popcorn.

You grab a handful, popping onto of them into your mouth as you answer, "not yet."

"You should ask him for alimony, at least."

"I'm not sure I'd win that, 'Tsumu."

"Still," his nose wrinkles in distaste, "this feels unfair. And why are you the one taking care of Sakura on your own? And I don't mean the parenting part. What about the finances? Why can't he contribute?"

"Because he's a dick and he thinks he can get away with it," you're glad that the tv is providing a welcome distraction, for you can't bear to look into Atsumu's eyes, "I'm just going to sign it and be done with it. I don't want Sakura to suffer any longer. It's not fair on her, she barely sees him."

"Well maybe it's time you find someone else too, y/n."

Your thoughts suddenly flash to Kuroo's beautiful smile and you have to physically force yourself to keep from grinning. You can feel the heat from the back of your neck and come up with the excuse that it's still too early and that Sakura wouldn't like her world shattering just for your happiness.

But it seems that Atsumu knows you better than that, for he asks, "are you blushing?"

"Wha--" Panic skitters through you, "no. No, why would I blush?"

His eyebrows raise, "you’ve met someone then?"

"N--No. Not at all. It's--" you realize you're blundering when his smile widens slightly, "it's not like that."

"So who's the lucky guy?"

"Atsumu."

"Y/N," his eyes glisten with playfulness and he nudges your shoulder, "c'mon. Tell me!"

You let out another breath and mumble, "He’'s not someone I met. He's...Just someone I know."

"And how do you know him?"

"He's Sakura's PE coach."

Atsumu lets out a whistle, "well that--" he shakes his head, "--that's not what I imagined at all."

"Shut up."

"So you like him?"

"It's not--It's really not like that. I--" you try and rack your brain for anything to say because this is really embarrassing. Who has a crush at the age of twenty-nine? Practically all of your friends are already married and have kids, talk about husband problems and how they wish for their youth back. And you? Here you are, thinking you might have a crush. You're no better than a middle school girl.

Which is why you say, "I don't even know him."

"You just think he's cute?"

"Precisely. But there are a lot of cute guys. It doesn't mean anything."

“Right,” Atsumu lets out a breath before he leans back into the couch, “but you know what I think?”

You hum in response.

“I think you should get laid—“

You almost spit out your wine in shock, gape at him in horror, “Atsumu!”

Again, your brain goes into overdrive at the thought of Kuroo and his sweaty chest, the breadth of his shoulders, the way he just towers over your small frame…

NO! You slam onto your mental brakes and shake your head, “you’re disgusting.” You spit out.

“I’m telling the truth princess. I really believe in the power of s—“

“Don’t—“ you cut him off with a raised palm, “don’t even say it.”

“So tell me,” Atsumu proceeds to wriggle his brows suggestively which makes it even harder to stop the blush igniting along your face, “this guy, how handsome is he? Must be pretty good-looking for you to be blushing like that.”

“Shut up ‘Tsumu, it’s not like that at all. Just stop. He's like--half of my age."

“Alright alright,” he laughs his deep-bellied laughter and wraps an arm around you in a gentle, comforting hug, “but if ever you do get lais with him, you gotta tell me.”

“Mum, what does ‘getting laid’ mean?”

“Oh!” Your head snaps to the doorway only to see your daughter all sleepy-eyed and clutching a spare pillow.

“Sakura!” You scramble to over, casting your cousin a scowl as you do, “c’mon, sweetie. Let’s get you back to bed.”

You hear Atsumu’s laughter follow you all the way to the bedroom.

————

It’s weird when Sakura isn’t around.

It’s almost like you’ve lost your purpose. But then again, you should be taking advantage of this right? That’s what everyone keeps telling you.

But alas, something in you cannot just let yourself rest for fear that your thoughts may go into a black hole of what ifs and images of Sakura with your ex-husband’s wife —well, almost ex-husband— and thus decide to take on a last-minute order.

It’s a simple enough request— a birthday cake. While you usually plan events from A to Z, this order merely requested a cake of any kind. So that’s how you spend your Saturday morning — creating a dough and sugar decorations that would fit into the theme of “Halloween”, as per what your client has asked.

You drive up to the pin location around four in the afternoon, strolling through the streets until the google maps signals you that you’ve arrived to your destination. Turning off the ignition at the said house — a beautiful Victorian home adorned with columns twice your height and size — you open your door only to come face to face with a familiar pair of golden eyes.

“Coach?”

“Kosuke-san?”

You both stare. And stare.

It’s shock that comes first. Before realization slaps you in the face, “oh!” You quickly bow in hopes that you haven’t been staring too long, “good afternoon, Coach. What—What brings you here?”

"Kosuke-san," he bows and looks just as surprised as you are, before he notices the way you're struggling to juggle to cake in your arms, "here, let me help you."

Without hesitation, he opens the door a bit wider and closes the gap between you, lifting the box from your arms, "jeez how heavy is this thing?"

You let out a small laugh, "it's all the icing sugar."

"Come in," he gestures with his chin for you to follow and as you step into the threshold he continues, "so when you said you were an event planner--I didn't expect you to be a cake designer too."

"It's an extra service I provide," you shrug, "I'm a patissier by career. Event planning is just something that keeps the cash flowing."

Kuroo pauses in mid-step then, "you're a patissier?"

"Yeah. Well, I was," you chuckle, "but anyway, it's been a while since I've baked now. So I hope it's just as good as you expect it to be."

Kuroo opens his mouth only to be cut off by a horde of boys stumbling into what appears to be the kitchen area. Now that you have a better look, it's all white marble and golden taps and golden handles on every piece of furniture to match. In any case, this house screams of money and for a minute, you feel a bit small and insignificant in your stained-flour blouse, the splotches of paint across your faded out jeans, courtesy of Sakura's art skills.

"You must be y/n!" one of the boys detaches himself. His orange hair glistens in the sun streaming through the window and he's a bit shorter than Kuroo. He beams at you and you can't help but be reminded of a puppy, "thanks for taking my order on such a short notice!"

"No worries at all. You must be...Hinata?"

"Yes!" he shakes your hand, "so I see you've met Kuroo! He's one of my best mates! We used to play against each other back in high school."

"Really now?" you quirk a brow in Kuroo's direction, watching the muscles of his arms ripple as he places the cake in an orderly manner inside the fridge. His voice is muffled when he replies, "yeah, he's the midget that made us jump for our lives. I hated him."

"You're just sour because you lost that one time," Hinata pouts, "but anyway, this is the rest of the ex-team!"

And so that's how you get a round of names that you will probably forget in five minutes and Kuroo, having seen the confusion in your eyes, can't help but laugh to himself because the sight is somewhat adorable. And he knows he shouldn't find it, he knows you're off limits because first, you're a mom from the school and two, you're married and have a kid. It's definitely not at all appropriate for his eyes to be roaming over your curves or to linger over the light glittering in your eyes.

Get a hold of yourself, he mentally whacks the back of his head.

“Where’s the little munchkin?” Kuroo asks you once you’re all settled after having been wheedled by Hinata to stay (“please please please you did such a great job on the cake” is what he’d begged). You’re now perched onto a plush lounge chair, a mixture of juice and vodka in your hand and watching the nth match of pingpong between someone whose name you forget and the other whose name sounds like Daichi. Though yoj might be wrong.

You’re glad for Kuroo’s presence, for even if he is a stranger, he still feels familiar to you right now in this setting.

“Sakura’s with her father today,” you explain with a slight smile in hopes it doesn’t give any of that bitterness away.

Kuroo opens his mouth like he wants so say something — anything— but you beat him to it, “we’re not together. Not anymore.”

His eyes widen with realization and you see it, the way he’s putting all the puzzle pieces together, “I’m sorry to hear,” is what he finally musters.

“Nothing be to be sorry about.”

“So… the name Kosuke…”

“Is my maiden name,” you reply, “I’ve never changed names. Looking back, I think I’ve done the right thing.”

Kuroo isn’t sure whether he should be mad for you or hurt in your place. After all, who in their right mind would leave their wife and their toddler daughter?

He deals with little kids every day, so he knows exactly what they’re like on a daily basis, and it’s not easy.

“I’m sorry,” it seems that’s the only thing he knows how to say.

“Really,” you laugh at him, “how can you be sorry when it’s not even your fault?”

Kuroo shrugs and grins bashfully because yes, it’s true and he still doesn’t know what to say. So he decides to ask, “And Sakura… how is she?”

“She doesn’t realize it. She’s too young,” your smile fades slightly, “in a way, I hope that’s a good sign.”

His heart clenches at the thought of you raising this kid alone. He can’t even imagine it. It makes sympathy swim inside his chest like an ache he can’t quite ignore. The look on your face suggests that you’ve been let down and he has the sudden impulse to tell you that everything will be alright, will be okay.

But he can’t do that. You’ll think of him as a creep. So he bites his tongue and look away instead, at the war of pingpong ongoing between his two friends. In a way, he’s glad for the distraction as he sips on his beer.

“And you?” Your voice piping up surprises him. His eyes flit back to your face. You continue, “married? Engaged?”

Kuroo’s throat bobs as he chuckles, “no. None of that.”

“How come?” You take a sip of your cocktail, “you don’t seem like the type to wound up alone with a hundred cats.”

“No no,” he can’t help but laugh because one, you’re hella attractive to him; tiny and frail and looking like he can fit you in a box no problem and two; you’re actually entertaining to be around. Something that he’s found lacking in his previous dates, “I just didn’t find anyone special yet.”

“Well there's no rush,” you lift your cocktail as you speak, “and anyway, you’re still young. You should enjoy it while you can.”

“Young?” Kuroo’s face breaks into a grin as his golden orbs glimmer down at you, amused, “how old do you think I am?”

"Uhm--I don't know. Early twenties?"

"I'm twenty-five," he gives you a look, "how old are you?"

"Twenty-eight. Going on twenty-nine."

"You look like you've just gotten out of college though," Kuroo's smirk is visible even behind his beer as he chugs down most of his drink, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you and Sakura were sisters."

"Not even," you retort, "And excuse me, but you look younger than twenty-five."

"I make up for it in height," he peers down at you, "but I suppose you wouldn't understand that considering--"

Your arm whacks at his shoulder before you know it. A playful gesture surely, but one that you don't really use on your daughter's teachers. Let alone ones that have bulging muscles and a figure to die for. You stare at your hand for a long minute, your brain going blank, before your eyes whip up to his and horror seeps into your gaze.

"Oh my god!" you screech and recoil like he's the one that had slapped you, "I'm so sorry, I--It's just--automatic you know, my cousin--he's got the same humor and--well I--I'm really sorry--"

The guffaw that leaves Kuroo's mouth is so loud that it causes heads to turn, even the ones invested in the ping pong game. He bends over while holding his stomach and the initial panic that you have wears off upon seeing him look so joyously happy. You can't help but chuckle along.

"What?" you say when he's regained most of his breath, "what's so funny?"

"You are," he grins, before it turns mischievous, "senpai."

"Hey--now that's going a bit too far!"

You're not quite sure what time you get home that night. But you do know that you've gone to sleep with a smile on your face.

————

"Kuroo sensei! He stole my ball!"

A typical Monday morning where Kuroo is busy surveilling the fifth graders as they decided to play basketball during their free time. He's not one to deny such requests, actually enjoys watching them play and seeing them grow day by day, developing their techniques. But to say that he's a bit in the clouds would be an understatement.

"Kuroo sensei!"

He finally snaps back to reality. Blinks down at the tiny boy with the biggest scowl he's ever seen yet, "yes I'm sorry. What's wrong?"

"He stole my ball!" the young boy points at one of the chubby classmates who seems quite content in playing by himself, "and now he's saying that it was his!"

Kuroo can't help but raise a brow. He's taught that class before, knows exactly that the chubby little kid doesn't have that many friends, including the boy standing before him.

"I don't think he stole your ball."

It's a bold statement, but from the way the tiny student squirms and averts his gaze, Kuroo believes he is right, "but--but he did! He really did steal my ball!"

"I have an idea," Kuroo bends down to his height, not able to restrain the grin along his face at the pout forming on the student's lips, "why don't you go and play with him? He seems a bit lonely."

"Yeah that's because he never talks to anyone in class."

"Then why don't you be the first? hm?" he nudges the boy's shoulder, "show your class a good example. Come on."

With a bit more reassurance, the said student goes over and Kuroo watches fondly as the two exchange awkward greetings before the chubby student nods his head, glancing at his PE coach like he'd just dropped a bomb.

Five minutes later, they're playing together like best friends.

And Kuroo goes back to daydreaming.

He's not usually like this. So out of it, so inside his own head that he can't see the outside world. But ever since that party he's been wondering when's the next time he'd get to see you, to talk to you. Not just as Sakura's mum but as someone, maybe a friend. He's addicted to the way your eyes curve up before your lips are even drawn into a smile, like you're sharing a special secret with him before the world gets a flash of blinding white teeth. He enjoys watching you move about because you're just so tiny, holding cups with two hands and always having to tiptoe about to find stuff. But most of all, that conversation with you had him dreaming of more. He wants to know you, that initial curiosity turning to what he'd define as stupid infatuation.

Yes, Kuroo Tetsurou has a crush, and he's not quite sure how to feel about it.

"--Earth to Kuroo?"

He blinks. In front of him stands his colleague and friend Bokuto. Having faced each other off countlessly during their high school days, it was a miracle and lovely surprise to see him at the new year induction. Since then, they’d been a constant pair inside the school walls and creating assignments, organizing and coordinating events had never been so fun.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and rubs a hand over his face.

“You look like death, mate,” Bokuto leans on the fencing that separates the courts from the building, “why the long face?”

“Haven’t slept well,” Kuroo says, but he knows he’s not convincing when Bokuto’s eyebrows raise in question.

“You? Firm believer of 10hrs of sleep every day?” His friend shakes his head, “no way. Tell me what happened. What’s got you looking so dazed?”

“It’s noth—“ he halts. Maybe he can find some advice? Bokuto’s known for being a badass romantic after all. Maybe he can have something wise to say.

Like tell Kuroo you’re way out of his league and— what the hell is he even thinking, dating someone’s mom? Someone older than him, at that?

The words burst out of his mouth without warning:

“I think I like someone.”

Bokuto merely blinks. His face lights up, “well that explains it. Who?”

Kuroo’s arm swings to the back to scratch his neck, “it’s… one of the student’s mom’s.”

The last few words are said in a mumble, causing Bokuto to lean into his friend with a wide-eyed gaze, surprise flitting across his face when he realizes what Kuroo has just said.

“No,” the grey-haired man’s mouth turns into an “o” as he stares his friend down, “no way. Who?”

“I don’t think you know her. Sakura Kosuke?” Kuroo prompts.

“Sakura Kosuke…” Bokuto shakes his head in thought, “haven’t heard of that one. But—-Kuroo! I thought older women weren’t your style!”

“She’s not that old,” Kuroo’s face flames, “only by three years.”

"Who would've thought," Bokuto breathes out with a chuckle when a thought suddenly occurs to him, "wait-- it's not the chick who came by with the cake last weekend?"

Kuroo nods and awkwardly clears his throat, "yeah, the very same."

"Ha! If only I knew! I would've done my best to set you up!"

"It's not funny!"

But now that Bokuto has some leverage of information, he's definitely not going to let it go and Kuroo kind of regrets spilling the beans to him, of all people. That, and the probably fact that he’ll be spreading this news like wildfire across their friend group.

Thankfully, Kuroo’s schedule makes it that it’s hard to think about anything but work since midterm season is approaching for his other primary school colleagues. There’s after-school shows and events for every single activity and since he’s being asked to help for every single thing (because he’s the preschool teacher and, yeah! How come you don’t have any events planned for your preschoolers?!). Which means that he doesn’t have actual time to think about you, not even when he’s finally home and mustering up enough strength to brush his teeth, take a shower and dump himself in bed.

He does, however, collide head-first into you one week day as you’re hurrying out of the principal’s office, looking flustered and red-faced.

“Kosuke-san,” he takes a longing glance your rosy cheeks and felt his hand tingle with want. Just to see if it’s as soft as he imagines it to be? “You okay?”

“Kuroo sensei,” you run a hand through your locks and causing your hair to get even more disheveled, “hi, sorry— how are you? It’s been a while.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You’re looking a bit more greenish now that he sees you in the light.

“Yes I—“ your hands flutter up before you in an attempt to find an explanation, “—just came back from a meeting with Sakura’s teacher.”

“Oh?” Kuroo frowns, “what—nothing bad, I hope?”

“It’s just—well,” you try to chuckle but it comes out like a whimper, “apparently she got into a fight with one of the other girls in her class. Got a few injuries herself so…”

Your eyes are wet and it seems you’re half a second away from a breakdown. So it’s only natural for Kuroo to take a few steps closer to you before he whispers a soft, “hey hey, you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you take a shaky breath, “it’s just been a long, hard morning.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo bites onto his lower lip, not sure what to do to make things better as he watches your chest move up and down in staggered breaths.

That’s when an idea hits him. He makes a grab for the back of your elbow and the smallness, the thinness of your limb takes him be surprise as he steers you out of the corridor.

And when your wide eyes flutter up to his, he quickly says something along the lines of, “I know a place. It’ll make you feel better.”

That’s how he finds himself dragging you to the nearby coffee place he always frequents— called Espresso Block— a small vintage bakery run by none other than his good friend Osamu Miya, as part of his expansion branch from his onigiri restaurants.

"Y/N!" Osamu greets as soon as he spots your face trailing behind Kuroo's tall figure. He pushes the raven-haired man aside with impatience before sauntering over and wrapping you up in a bear hug.

"Osamu," you breathe in the scent of baked croissants lingering on his uniform, "you're choking me."

"Oh--sorry," he drops you and grins sheepishly, that is before he registers that you're together with one of his friends, causing his eyes to narrow, "how do you two know each other?"

"Kosuke-san is Sakura's mother and she was having a bad day," Kuroo explains before he turns to you, "how do you know him?"

Did you imagine the five-second frostiness that came from his tone? Maybe not, as you reply, "he's my cousin. We grew up together. I taught him how to play volleyball back in primary school."

Kuroo's relief is instant. Thank god, it's not a close friend, nor is it a romantic partner candidate. His mood brightens instantly and without further ado he proceeds to lead you towards a table in the back.

He doesn’t fail to ignore the way Osamu’s eyes are following him all the way back to his table as he carries the two drinks — strawberry latte for him and a black coffee for you — and Kuroo can just hope that his dear friend can keep his distance until you've gone.

Becayse he's quite certain he will be subject to interrogation. Especially if you're that close to Osamu.

Placing the tray on the table, he takes out the mug and pushes it into your hands before finding his seat opposite you. You grab the cup between your two palms and take a deep breath as Kuroo sips on his latte.

The sweetness of the strawberry never disappoints. It’s refreshing and brings a smile to his lips. Osamu sure knows his desserts.

“I'm really sorry about what happened earlier," you seem to have composed yourself from earlier. You take a small sip of your coffee and Kuroo watches in amusement as you shudder.

"Do you want some milk with that?" he can't help but ask.

You nod and look shameful, and Kuroo's heart squeezes with sympathy. Your eyes are tinged with aprons of blue and there are tired lines lining your eyes and the corners of your mouth. It's only when he comes back -- from having gotten some steamed milk from Osamu and a suggestive wink to match -- you dip your head into a nod and mumble out a soft 'thanks', eyes glued to the way the dark brown turned into a creamy latte.

"You could've asked me for a latte," Kuroo smiled to show that he didn't mind at all. But you winced.

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't say sorry," he softened, "just--next time, you can tell me what you want, Kosuke-san. I'm not here to bite you...unless you want me to."

Your eyes flit up to his in surprise and Kuroo pinks at his words. They'd just slipped out on their own. It's not like he'd wanted to sound flirty when you're looking all shaky and worse for wear. He quickly clear his throat and tries to change the subject, "how are Sakura's injuries?"

"She's fine, got herself a bruised lip."

His eyebrows raise in surprise, "woah, that's still something."

"Yeah," you mutter and take another sip. And then another, "I hope this doesn't become a habit."

"I've taught Sakura since the start of this semester," Kuroo leans forward, elbows propped onto the table, "and I can tell you--she's anything but violent."

"I really hope you're right about this. I can't have her running around beating up everyone."

Kuroo stifled a small laugh, "to be honest, I think it's good she knows how to defend herself."

You shoot him a look and he can't help but laugh. And it's so contagious, the way it booms out of him like a melody, that you cannot restrain yourself from joining in.

"You're right," you say in-between chuckles.

"Maybe she got her mom's feisty spirit," Kuroo adds.

"No way. I was as silent as a mouse," you retort, "if she got anything like that, it's probably from her father's--"

You halt in mid-conversation, wanting to bite down your tongue for even mentioning him and quickly flash Kuroo a bashful smile in hopes he'll just brush it off, "sorry, let's not talk about him--"

"Kosuke-san, you really have to stop saying sorry all the time," Kuroo says with a grin, "it's not healthy."

"I know, I'm--" you catch yourself and he bursts out laughing once more at your face, "don't say it! No matter what!" he chides.

"Stop--" but you're grinning from ear to ear, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, "--Kuroo sensei, I hope you're not as playful with your students or they'd never learn anything from you."

"Course not," he winks, "I keep that solely for the pretty ladies."

His suggestive tone makes you blush despite it all and you look down at your coffee with the blush blazing so hard across your cheeks you swear everyone can see its colour from afar.

"I don't know how it is at home though," Kuroo's voice brings you out of your small bubble of warmth, "it must be tough handling Sakura all alone. Do you ever take a break?"

"Well, she goes to see her dad ever two weeks. But other than that, she's always with me unless my parents decide to come over. Which isn't as often as I would like."

"Why's that?"

"They live in the countryside and have a farm. It's hard for them to take days off, and I don't blame them not wanting to be around," your voice lowers to a mutter at the last few words, "especially after what happened with the marriage and all..."

"Marriages fail every time," Kuroo says gently then, "that too, isn't your fault."

"I wish my parents believed that," you let out a small laugh, "but they're right. We were too young to get married."

"But you have Sakura right? Isn't she worth it?"

His eyes, golden flecked and filled with so much hope and softness, meet yours from across the table. You suddenly feel a bit hot in your seat, wanting to squirm as you quickly look away from Kuroo's gaze because dear god, it's almost like he's ripping away, ripping apart every single layer of self-protection and preservation and reading you out like an open book.

"You're right," you clear your throat upon realizing he'd still been waiting for your response, "she is worth every single second. I wouldn't change anything about what happened. I just--I wish my parents could see it that way too."

"I think you spend a little too much time stressing about things you can't control," Kuroo takes another sip of his latte, "how about you learn to let go a bit? Maybe take the day off? Go hiking?"

"With Sakura?" you shake your head, "impossible, I--"

"Surely you have someone that can take care of her while you're gone," he tilts his head, jaw resting into one of his hands and making him appear all the more handsome.

Your thoughts flash to Atsumu. He's right, you could technically take a day off by dropping Sakura with the blonde. But she's not his responsibility and Atsumu has other priorities in his life rather than hang out with his niece. But Kuroo's persistence is strong and he makes you -- practically orders you -- to text him when he connects the dots that you two are also family.

"That guy can learn a thing or two about being responsible anyway," grins Kuroo, "so I'm sure he won't mind."

————

How did you end up here?

That's the question you keep asking yourself -- even when you're busy picking out your clothes only to realize that you barely have anything that's worth 'party material', even when you're attempting to do your makeup even though it's been almost three (or four?) years since you've tried to look your best because Sakura's wellbeing always came first.

Even when you're strapping up your black ankle boots, the question is getting drilled into your brain like a broken mixtape as you wonder whether this is a good idea after all.

"Go," Atsumu is firm when you call him for the nth time. It's five minutes until Kuroo's supposed to pick you up and feeling the pressure on your shoulders, you quickly decide to call your cousin in an emergency, "you have to do it, y/n. Stop making this all about Sakura. You need to be happy too."

"I am happy," was what you'd mumbled out in the phone receiver. You don't realize how tightly you're gripping the phone, so tight that your knuckles have turned white.

"I know you are, but you'll be happier if you live for yourself. At least for one night," Atsumu responds, "and Sakura's safe with me. And if ever there's an issue I'll call Osamu first to--"

"What?! No! No you call me first, okay?"

"Y/n please just relax. It's supposed to be a fun night."

You slump against the wall in defeat, "I don't even know why I'm doing this," you mumble mostly to yourself, though you're certain he can hear it too, "there's no point trying to prove that I'm content with my life. There are things that are going to leave me unsatisfied. I'm--I was fine with that, really."

"Are you though?" your cousin's voice is accusatory this time, "you're ready to live just for Sakura? Making her happy will make you happy too? Is this how it's supposed to work?"

"Technically yes, I'm her mother--"

"--And you've been left behind!"

The words are like a slap. You bite down onto your lower lip.

It draws blood.

You hiss, sucking on the skin as the metallic taste hits your tongue.

In truth, Atsumu has a point. You can't just live to make Sakura happy because that will ultimately destroy you. Not because she's not the only thing you need in your life. But because despite having your little girl being the center of your world, despite being able to sustain her with your career, you still feel like it's just yesterday when Aoi had upped and left you. His excuses, as pathetic as they had been, were arrows shooting straight into your heart. He left you crying into your pillow that night, hovering over your figure until you'd told him to 'get lost or I'll call the cops on you' before curling up on the small couch that you'd gotten rid of once he'd moved out for good.

So much pain. So much pain and haunted nights and obstacles that had come your way. That, along with caring for Sakura, had been a big hurdle. You remembered the long mornings, how hard it had been to drag yourself out of bed for the first few days. Atsumu had volunteered to stay with you then, giving you all the support you needed until you'd had enough strength to get back on your feet.

So he knew exactly what you'd gone through. Had seen it all first-hand. He wasn't kidding when he said you really needed to get laid. Somehow, he seems to have a valid point.

But it's been so long since you've left the dating scene that the thought of it makes you want to vomit.

"I'm sorry y/n, that wasn't cool." Atsumu's voice flows through the receiver like a lullaby and you take a deep, staggering breath, "I just--I know how hard it's been pulling your weight and caring for Sakura. It practically consumed your entire life. It's about time you get that motherfucker back for screwing things up--"

"Language," you tsk at him.

"You know what I mean," he replies impatiently, "So go out there, have fun. Get smashed. And at least do something to make you happy for a change. Alright?"

"Yeah okay," you mumble.

"And plus, you're with a bunch of guys that I know. They're cool. They'll keep an eye on you."

"Thanks mom."

"Anytime hun."

You can't help but giggle before you hear a car pulling up outside, "alright. I think my ride's here."

"Yeah, try to get laid okay--"

"Atsumu!" your cheeks flame, "I hope you're not saying all this in front of Sakura!"

A burst of laughter echoes from the receiver, "don't worry, miss Sakura is asleep. Have fun y/n! Take pictures!"

The drive there is less awkward than you'd imagined it to be, despite the fact that Kuroo's get-up does make your mouth salivate. And not just you. You realize a bunch of girls have him on their radar, from the stolen glances driven his way as you follow his broad back out of the parking and into the small terrace-looking entrance flanked by colored glowing palm trees.

"I haven't been in a club for like four years," you confess to him as you trudge into the queue. The air smells like cigarette and smoke. And something else. Something dangerous. It makes you giddy, you realize.

"Four years?" his eyes grow round as he looks down at you, "you have drunk before right? To the brink of passing out?"

"Like...maybe four years ago?"

His mouth opens, then closes. He shakes his head, a smile curving at the edges of his lips, "remind me not to drown you with tequila."

"I'll try my best."

You meet the rest of the gang upon stumbling into the club. It's dark and pulsating with music, with two dance floors separated by the DJ stationed on a platform right in the middle. Lights are bouncing off the space like crazy and all around you are moving bodies that writh and mold together until you're not sure where one ends and the other begins.

“Y/N! You’re here!” A drunk Hinata hooks an arm around your shoulder before steering you towards the bar, “you’re just in time! We were going for a round of lambos.”

“Lambos?” You balk and meet Kuroo’s eye, “you mean— Lamborgini’s?”

“Hell yeah!” Another one of the guys chimes in. It’s almost comical, the way they’re all stumbling against each other as you move like a congregation until you’re straight up in front of the barman.

“Ten Lambo’s please!” Hinata slams his card ontot he counter.

It brings back a wave of nostalgia, seeing the line of glasses and the way the bartender drops the alcohol in like he can do it with his eyes closed. You’re jostled and pressed against warm chests and shoulders, surrounded from all sides and yet, you feel safe with them all. That is, until you feel a soft brush against your elbow.

You turn to see Kuroo’s warm golden orbs.

“All okay?” He mouths to you.

You nod and give him a smile in return, and the grin that he cracks makes a troop of butterflies swoop into your stomach.

You look away just as Hinata thrusts a glass into your hands, “come y/n! This one’s on me!”

One shot becomes two. And two become three. Soon enough you find yourself on the dance floor and moving to the beat with one of the girls from the group— Yachi?— while the guys are trying to pay each other back their shots. The music vibrates through the floor up your body and flood your veins so that you get lost in it, ecstasy and the thrill of just being alive finally gushing through your brain, fogged up and amplified by the alcohol in your bloodstream.

It’s amazing. You feel free. Like nothing can stop you.

It’s honestly the best you’ve felt in a while.

After a while, you and Yachi decide to take a well-deserved break, stumbling over to the clustered seating space filled with red cushions as the boys scatter to find more alcohol. At this point you’re surprised that they’re still moving around and conscious, considering the amount they’ve drunk.

One of the boys— the one with the kind smile called Daichi— offers to get you guys some water as you take a seat, allowing your tired legs to take a break.

“I’m going to fine Hinata!” Yachi says into your ear and you nod before ushering her out of your way. There’s something between those two, a kind of tension that will develop into something more if they just allow it.

But you’re not one to meddle, not when your own love life’s a mess.

That’s when you notice.

It’s the lingering stare out of the corner of your peripheral that makes you turn your head.

Then you see him.

A tall, lanky man. He’s seated right opposite you, a drink in his hand and taking a swig. But there’s no mistake, for when his eyes meet yours across the room you can only jolt in shock.

You look away with embarrassment and disgust. Heat spreads to the back of your neck and goosebumps run up your arms. Suddenly, it’s a little too cold in this hot, sweaty club.

Why is he looking at you like that?

There’s no mistaking the intention. You risk one more glance and confirm that indeed, there’s a darkness in his eyes; the kind of a predator.

The kind that wants to strip you bare.

It’s unsetttling, unnerving.

Disgusting.

You don’t even hesitate. It’s like instinct for you jump off your seat with the only purpose to find Kuroo. But to your terror, the man starts to follow you. And soon enough it becomes a game of catch: of cat and mouse. You almost trip over your high heels as you push through the moving bodies as quickly as you can.

But the figure is there, hovering over you like a dark shadow that causes your heart to clench.

You bite back a whimper, pushing through a throng of girls as you frantically search for a sign of Kuroo’s familiar mop of hair. Or Hinata’s. Or just about anyone for that matter—

Bumping into a chest, you’re more than surprised as you let out a small yelp only to hear a familiar alto.

“Kosuke-san, everything alright?”

“K—Kuroo sensei,” your mumble is drowned in the beats of the music, eyes darting between his face and the dodgy man.

He’s now standing by the bar a few feet away from you. The same kind of withering stare that makes you wince.

Hurriedly, you turn to Kuroo and grip his shirt, wanting nothing more than to hide behind him, “I—uhm— there’s someone—“ the words jumble up as they pour out of your mouth and you find you can do nothing but grip his shirt for dear life, like Kuroo’s the only thing that can help you out of here.

Thankfully, he seems to understand your dilemma, for he puts a hand on your shoulder before steering you a little closer to him and away from the main path, a frown evident on his face, “what’s wrong Kosuke-san?”

But it’s only when he follows your fear-stricken eyes that Kuroo realizes there’s something — someone tormenting you. He recognizes the dark hunger, the prowling intent.

Instantly, his hand grips your waist. Tugs you closer.

You stumble into him, “Kuroo sensei—“

But Kuroo’s not having it. He stares the man down with a glower, longer body practically wrapped around yours in a protective embrace as he dares the man to do something, anything.

Try me, his eyes are saying, you’re not going to lay a single hand on her.

The stranger finally breaks eye contact after a few beats of silence and Kuroo keeps watch, golden eyes blazing until the man is nothing more but a memory of smoke as he disappears into the crowd.

Only then does he allow his hold to relax. Tilting down towards you. He murmurs out softly:

“He’s gone, Kosuke-san.”

You’re practically glued to him at this point, face buried in his chest and hands gripping so tightly onto his shirt that you might’ve grown claws. Kuroo nudges you gently once more, and that’s when you look up from the depths of his shirt.

The sight makes him almost coo because goddamnit even in the dim disco lights you look adorable. He has the sudden urge to pinch your cheeks and he’s glad his hands are somewhat occupied along your waist.

“You okay?” Is what he whispers.

You nod, looking a bit shaky and green int the face, “yeah—I’m—I’m fine. Thank you. He was—it scared me.”

“I know,” Kuroo draws away ever so slightly so he can have a better look at your face, “I’ll bring you home, alright?”

“No no it’s okay,” you shake your head and attempt a smile, but even Kuroo can see past those shaky lips, “you stay and have fun. I’ll call an Uber and—“

“Nonsense,” he grabs your elbow once more, “I’ll accompany you. C’mon.”

———

It’s definitely unnerving. It leaves you shaking with fear and you’re thankful for Kuroo’s strong grip on your arm as he maneuvers you out of the club.

The rush of cold wind hits your cheeks, leaving the soft beats of the club behind. Slowly, the world comes back into focus as the air rushes through your lungs and the sound bustling traffic in the distance is brought back into focus.

Only then do you realize how close you’re standing to the coach.

With a start, you stumble away with a muttered “sorry”, not daring to meet his eyes while quickly brushing off your clothes because dear god you weren’t sure what to do with your hands.

The uber arrives without much delay — thankfully — and the ride home is silent, almost as if there’s an awkward tension that has settled between the two of you. Away from the alcohol and now sobering up, it’s impossible to ignore the fact that you’d practically glued yourself to this man earlier. The act is so embarrassing you decidedly keep your gaze on the flurry of bustling streets and dim lamps flying by.

You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until a warm hand is shaking your shoulder, followed by a soft; “we’re here.”

You gasp, noticing that you’ve been pressed against Kuroo’s shoulder all this time.

“Oh,” you scramble away as quick as lightning, “I’m so sorry—“

His lips quirk upwards, “no harm done, senpai.”

You hate it when he calls you that. It makes you sound… old.

Nevertheless, you decide to be quiet as he accompanies you up to your flat, hands in his pockets while following you up the rusty stairs. You hope he’s not judging; it’s not like you have unlimited amounts of funding, what with Sakura’s education and activities.

“Well,” you finally reach the door to your flat and turn on your heel so that you face him, “thanks… for everything.”

"No problem," he's smiling down at you. Still so patient, still so happy to help. Your heart swells in your chest and you ask, "how are you getting back?"

"Oh, probably Uber..." he trails off, already turning away to fish his phone out of his pocket, "it's not far."

"Where do you live?"

You almost bawk when he tells you his address, because it's practically at the other end of town. He'll be there in forty-five minutes, at least.

The words are automatic, shooting out of you, "I'm so--"

But Kuroo's hand whips out, clamping over your lips. Your eyes widen as you look up at him, only to see the young man grinning like there's no tomorrow.

"You really need to stop doing that," he finally says before drawing back. Already, you're hit with the cold air following Kuroo's touch upon your skin, "I wanted to accompany you. There's nothing to apologize for."

"I know, but--"

He throws you another pointed look that has you clamping down on your mouth. You're about to say sorry once more because you're being a pathetic blubbery mess, but the look in his eyes makes you say a soft, "thank you" instead.

"You're welcome," and with one final grin and a wave to match, the school Coach disappears down the corridor, leaving you gazing at his broad back until his silhouette turns the corner and away from your sight.

211 notes · View notes

artsangell · 3 months ago

Text

YUCK!

"Yuck, now you got me blushin'

Cheeks so red when the blood starts rushing

Yuck, that boy's so mushy

Sending me flowers, I'm just tryna get lucky"

(Loosely inspired by yuck, by Charli xcx)

Includes: Friends w benefits, smut(mdni), fluff, pining,idiots in love, hint of angst, slight Dom Art if you squint.

You're not exactly sure how it all even started. The routine you guys set up feels so natural, it's almost as if you guys were always meant be attatched to one another. To make the other person feel wanted and needed. Art is lying next to you right now, fast asleep with his blond curls mashed up against his pillow. You watch him for a bit, I mean it's so fucking hard not to, he's just so pretty. You're both naked. Though he's entirely stolen the cover from you in his sleep (not that you mind much). You watch his chest rise and fall for a few more moments before you decide to get up.

You get dressed and clean your face up a bit, when you return to the room Art’s has an arm over his eyes. He grumbles at the light surrounding the room, shifting for a moment before he removes his arm from his eyes. Pretty blue eyes watching you he says,

“ you sure you don't wanna stay the night? My bed has enough room. Promise.” It’s a struggle not to laugh at how groggy he sounds, it's also a struggle when you think about how you wish you could hear it every morning. the look he's giving you makes something inside you stir. It makes the idea of laying back in bed with him incredibly tempting.

“Yeah? I'm not sure about all that Art.” A laugh escapes you as you speak. “You have a twin. you barely even fit in your bed.” A chuckle that makes your chest ache leaves him, he sighs and looks at you like you're something special. like you're made of gold.

“You sure you don't want me to walk you back to your dorm? It's getting kinda late.” That puts a smile on your face, you lean forward to pat his cheek in mock affection. He melts into your touch, your hand stays there as you speak to him.

“I'm a big girl, but thanks. sleep tight Arthur.” A giggle, a high sound that makes you cringe leaves you at the look on his face.

An annoyed groan leaves him, “nevermind leave. You're evil.” The way he says it is unconvincing, it makes you feel fuzzy all over.

“Oh wow you weren't joking”

“Shut up.” you grumble.

Mostly annoyed, but a bit embarrassed.

You had invited Art over to your dorm so he could help you study, but it feels like all the information is going in one ear and out the other.

“Sorry, it's just you're like the smartest person I know. How am I of all people doing better than you.”

A frown etches on your face, college has been a bit hard on you. There's so much to do and rarely enough time, and when you do have time you just can't seem to focus. It feels like everyone knows how to manage everything, but you just can't seem to grasp how to even do slightly better than average. You know it's not true. You know college is tough at first for everyone and blah blah blah, But it's hard to feel like everyone goes through what you're going through, when you're adjusting to it worse than any of your friends are.

It feels as if Art can read your mind or something. You almost immediately see a crease between his brows, a look he gives you when he feels bad for you. When he wants to make it all better.You hate how it makes you chest ache. “How about we make this into a game?” His voice is soft in a way that makes your insides twist.

“A game?” You tilt your head to the side in confusion, trying to figure out what exactly he's up to.

“Yeah, like if you get this next question right-” at that he slides a hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb on the expanse of your upper thigh. “I’ll help you out. Would you be okay with that?” He looks into your eyes as he asks, you can't help but stare at the bit of brown he has in the left one. So pretty. You blink and you know you've been caught when you see a hint of a lopsided grin on his face.

“Yeah- yeah, I'd be okay with that.” you hate how shaky your voice is, it's not like you at all, but he just has a quality that brings it out of you.

“Good.”Art gives you a soft smile and lightly pats your thigh and it makes you want to scream.

“Ok. So what's the difference between descriptive and inferential statistics?” A frown appears on your face, you can't remember the answer.

“Um.. I don't know?” Art pinches your thigh at that, not hard enough to hurt but to correct you. It makes you let out a Soft gasp, you can't help but be a little turned on by it.(he doesn't need to know that.)

“That's not an answer. You know this come on, stop second guessing yourself. This is a really easy question you're overthinking.”

You take a breath in and try to think about what you've gone over , “descriptive gives a summary of the dataset and inferential is based on making predictions from a random sample.”

Art grins at you and shakes your shoulders playfully. “Good job! You got it right!” You can't help the laugh that escapes you, he grabs your face and plants kisses All over it. The attention only making you laugh more. “Knew. you. could. do. it.” Each word punctuated by a kiss, this time on your lips.

“Thought you were gonna reward me” it's basically a whine, you run a hand through his hair like it’ll get him to touch you faster, it will.

“Patience.” he laughs and slides to his knees beside you, clearly not being very patient himself. Art turns you in your swivel chair in his direction, he slowly glides his hands from your thighs to your hips. Quickly the blond before you glides your shorts and panties down. with the help of you lifting your hips for him. Slow kisses are pressed against your thighs, he's holding your upper thigh so you can stay still for him. Art makes sure to take extra time kissing the inside of your thighs, knowing it'll be torture for you. He peppers kisses there until you start to squirm. Finally he licks a stripe along your slit, he moans into you. Like he gets off on the taste alone.

“Taste so fucking good” the vibration of his words compels you to put your hand on top of his head, he immeaditly takes your hand off the top of his head to link his fingers with yours. A few more damn near torturous licks and you can't take it anymore. you need more so you tell him so, just like he taught you to.

“Art, please. Go faster.” You're out of breath, it's clear you can barely get those words out.

Art looks up at you and grins, pulling away from your cunt to do so. “Aww she does have manners, who would've thought.” It's like a switch flips when he touches you,he can't help but tease you a bit. Before you can rebuttal he dives back into you, sucking your clit with dedication to make you cum all over him. Its like he fucking craves it, well you can tell he does by the bulge in his jeans.

You cry out at the sensation. “Fuck- thank you, thank you, thank you.” Art squeezes your hand, he continues sloppily fucking you with his tounge. Your hips are already shaking, everything combined with the way he messily kisses your cunt makes you buck your hips into his face. Moans from the both of are filling the air.

Art’s tongue is merciless and all you can do is moan and whine and take what he gives to you.

“Shit, Art. I'm close please” you sound so whiny, in a way that would embarrass you if were in your right mind.

Wordlessly art sucks your clit with vigor, he gives your hand another squeeze, as if to calm you. You start to spasm around his tongue, body tense, legs shaking.

“Fuck.” you're breath hitches as you cum all over his face, letting out one last loud moan.

Art sits up on his knees to kiss you, you can taste yourself on him.

“You're so perfect.”

those words make you feel things you don’t that you should be, they make you think about how he'd never want to be with you outside of just sex. Its purely biological, he can't fully mean it when he says shit like that.

You pull away from him, his eyes are half lidded and his mouth slightly agape. You Standup abruptly. His eyes follow you in confusion, he's not quite sure what just happend.

“I’m sorry you should probably leave, thanks for… this.” You chew the inside of your lip.

Your words are awkward as they escape you, he knows you're clearly upset by something.

Art gets a furrow between his brows again and you can't help but want to kiss it away.

“You okay? I didn't do anything wrong did I?”

You quickly shake your head, “no, that was perfect. this was perfect,I just need to go do something.” Clearly lying through your teeth but he doesn't push any further.

Wide concerned eyes stare up at you, Art stands from his position on his knees using the arms of the seat as leverage. He’s in front of you now, giving your shoulder a squeeze as he leaves the room with a soft ‘goodbye’.

Suddenly, you don't think you can handle it. Pretending that having sex with him doesn't change how you feel about him in any way. When it does,

you wish things could go back the way that they were before.

395 notes · View notes

mrsbarnesxxx · 11 months ago

Note

Eddie Diaz x reader

Angst but fluff at the end

Where maybe the reader is married to Eddie and she asks him about if he ever wants a kid with her and he takes it the wrong way and says something like I only need Christopher and he’s enough, and the reader gets upset and walks off and maybe drives to Maddie’s and chimneys and while she’s gone he goes to their room and finds a box on the bed and he opens it to see the readers ultrasound and he immediately feels bad and goes to talk to her and happy ending.

Thank you so much for the request! I altered it only slightly (just where Eddie finds the ultrasound) but I loved this concept. I love angst with a happy ending!

It was a pretty normal day all in all. Carla was taking care of Christopher, Eddie was at the station, your boss kept sending hundreds of emails, oh and you had found out you were pregnant. Just an average day. You hadn't planned this by any means. You and Eddie had never talked about having a baby. You had been married for a year and a half, but the subject had never come up and you had never pushed it. Look how well that had gone. After staring at the stick in your hand for what felt like an eternity, you finally pushed yourself up from the floor and left the bathroom.

"Hey, Carla, are you okay if I run out? I have to go do something. It should only be about an hour." You say grabbing your keys.

"Of course, honey. Go right ahead." She says.

"Thanks, Carla. Bye bud," you say kissing Christopher on the top of his head before heading out of your and Eddie's shared house.

You didn't even know what you were doing until you were sitting in the waiting room of the local doctor's office reading a magazine.

It wasn't until one of the nurses had called your name 3 times that you seemed to realize they were calling you.

"Sorry." You apologize sheepishly standing and following her back to a room.

Sure enough, the doctor confirmed you were about 6 weeks pregnant and sent you home with a picture of the tiny baby. You knew you couldn't hide this from Eddie for long since you were likely to start experiencing more symptoms, but a part of you was worried about how he would react. Everything had finally settled down with Christopher and work. Everything was stable per se. And now you were throwing a wrench into the serenity the two of you had worked so hard to create. Finally, you decided you would broach the subject once Christopher had gone to bed. You would just ask him if he ever thought about having more kids. Yeah. That would work.

So, that night after Christopher was in bed and you and Eddie were alone in your room getting ready for bed, you took a deep breath before deciding now was a good time to approach the subject.

"Hey, Eddie?" You asked putting lotion onto your arms. "Have you ever thought about maybe having another kid?"

"What?" He asks brows furrowed as he pulls the covers down and joins you in the bed.

"Have you ever wanted another kid? I mean I love Christopher, but I was just curious." You explain, heart racing.

"Not really. I mean, I'm happy with Chris. He's a handful as it is and with him getting older, I don't know. I'm happy that the diaper changes and waking up to screaming is over." He says.

Anger surges through you at his admission. How could he say that? How could he openly admit to your face that he didn't want the baby growing inside of you...not that he knew about that, but that wasn't important.

"Were you even around for that?" You ask not thinking about what you're saying, just infuriated at him. "I mean didn't you enlist right after Shannon had Chris so didn't you pretty much luck out and miss all of those years?"

"What the hell are you saying?" He asks, confused at why you're attacking him all of a sudden.

"I just mean don't you not even know what it's like to be there for those years, so isn't that not a fair standard to measure it by?" You argue.

"What's going on with you?" He asks, turning to you, trying to contain his anger.

You scoff, "Nothing."

"Something's going on 'cause you're acting like a real bitch to me right now for no reason." He says. Instantly his face drops, realizing what he just said to you. "I-"

"Fuck you, Eddie." You say standing up and grabbing your coat. You don't listen to him as he follows after you, grabbing your keys and walking out of the house. You just get in your car and drive.

Eddie watches as you leave, slamming the door behind you. He really messed up this time. "Fuck!" He exclaims hitting the table. Your purse tips over as his fist makes contact with the table. a paper falling out. The paper catches his attention, the white clashing against the dark oak of the table. He reaches to put it back in your purse when the other side of the paper intrigues him. He turns it over to see a blob in the middle of the page. His face drops instantly, he runs his hand through his hair staring at the blob that is the reason for your outburst a few minutes earlier. He sighs texting Buck asking him to come stay with Christopher. 15 minutes later, a confused Buck shows up at Eddie's door.

"Uh...Everything alright? It's kinda late for a sleepover." He says.

"I messed up." He sighs stepping aside. After a quick explanation to Buck after letting him inside, Eddie is on his way out the door, texting everyone if you're with them. A few minutes into his search, Chimney texts back saying that you're there with Maddie and that he really messed up this time.

20 minutes later he's standing outside of Maddie's apartment, ultrasound in hand as he knocks with his free hand. Maddie answers, hands on her hips, brow raised at him, and sass written all over her face.

"I know, I know. Can I just talk to her?" He sighs. Maddie steps aside and lets him find you on the couch.

"Amor?" He asks cautiously, approaching you carefully.

"What do you want, Eddie?" You ask not looking at him.

"Can we talk?" He asks coming to sit next to you. The picture in his hand is what catches your eye. You look up at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly open. "When you asked me if I wanted more kids, you should have told me you were pregnant."

"I was trying to figure out how you would react." You explain.

"Just because it wasn't in my plan to have more kids doesn't mean I won't love this baby." He sighs.

"Well, when I broached the subject you didn't seem thrilled." You say sadly.

"Well, you started attacking me when I said I didn't want more kids." He says softly.

"I'm sorry." You say.

"Me too." He says taking my hand in his. "Come on, let's go home."

"Okay." You say taking his hand and standing with him. After saying goodbye to Maddie and Chim, you and Eddie make your way to his truck and start back home.

"So, how far along are you?" Eddie asks as we pull out of their driveway.

"6 weeks." You say quietly. He starts laughing and you look at him with amusement.

"Does that mean-" He cuts himself off with a laugh. "That we made a baby-"

"At Bobby and Athena's party, yep." You chime in laughing along with him.

He smiles taking your hand in his and kissing the top of it. Looking into his eyes, you knew that soon, everything would be back to normal and you'd have a new addition to your family.

#eddie diaz x reader #mbxxrequests #mrsbarnesxxx #mrsbarnesxx #eddie diaz fluff #911 on fox

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tj-dragonblade · 16 days ago

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[FIC] Baby Got Back

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: T Word Count: 3933 Tags: Human AU, gym meet-cute, lust at first sight, call that a meat-cute, supporting appearance by Death, Dream of the Endless is a horny little weasel, Hob puts the 'ass' in 'exercise class', Dream of the Endless (Sturridge Edition) has no cake to serve, embarrassment, exercise, Death is the worst (best) wingman

Notes: This happened bc @dragonnan shared this video in the Mr Sadman server and the scene Would Not Leave my brain. The meat-cute tag is also courtesy of Dragonnan. ❤️ Title is of course borrowed from Sir Mix-a-Lot's song of the same name. I physically could not call this anything else.

Summary: Dream's sister drags him to the gym. Will the instructor and his assets be enough to convince Dream it's worth his time?

On AO3 Dream is pleased to see, as he begrudgingly follows his sister into the exercise class she'd signed them up for, that at least the instructor isn't the bodybuilding jock type that has historically put him off going to the gym entirely. Dream gets only a glance at the back of him as they enter the space, but he is slim and athletically built—neither thick-necked nor thickly-muscled, nor is any part of him built like a tree trunk.

That is a relief.

Dream still does not want to be here.

But he loves his sister, and is ultimately not immune to her dogged persistence.

"Come on, Dream, just one time, please? I'm sure you'll find something you like about it!"

Months, she has been cajoling him; it is his hope that she will drop the subject now that he has finally given in.

"Hello, welcome everyone!" Mr. Not-a-Musclebound-Jock speaks up, drawing attention to start the class. "My name is Robert, but you can call me Hob, and I'll be your instructor for this undertaking! Good to see some of you back, and nice to see all these new faces too! Now, today we're going to start off slow; I'll demonstrate some techniques and we can all try them out one at a time before we really get going, alright?" He claps his hands, rubs them together. "Those of you who've been here before, please feel free to help out the newcomers if they need it. Especially if you brought them." He glances at Dream and Death with a tiny nod, as Death is one of those returning students, and Dream.

Well.

He is hearing the words—"quick stretches", now, and "warmup"—he is paying attention, truly, but he is also.

Staring.

Which is not so terrible; all eight of them in the class are watching the instructor and following along with the warmup, as they should. But Dream does not think his thoughts are in line with anyone else's.

Because the instructor, Hob—he is gorgeous. Arrestingly so. Beautiful in a very ordinary way; average height, the previously noted slim build, brown hair greying slightly at the temples and pulled into a messy bun, dark eyes, strong nose, friendly smile. Nothing individually remarkable, but together? Oh. That smile lances straight through Dream in a way that makes his stomach curl up giddily. Hob is wearing a white t-shirt that is tight and thin enough it can't quite hide what looks to be a lush thicket of chest hair, and the amount of hair on his arms and legs further supports that hypothesis. He's wearing mallard green spandex shorts that show off, well, everything, and it's all very nice.

Perhaps this class will be tolerable, after all.

"Okay, the first thing I want to tackle is a modified squat form," Hob says once they've finished the warmup stretches, and Dream is immediately reassessing his optimism. He hates squats; hates most sorts of physical exercise, to be honest, which is why Death had had to wheedle so hard to get him to join her. But squats, of course, were particularly loathsome. And Hob sounds far too cheerful about them.

"This modification is pretty simple; you'll just need to find a pole, here, and do like this." Hob turns so his back is mostly to the class, grabs an upright bar on the nearest weight machine—Dream has no idea what any of this equipment is properly called—then plants his feet far apart and leans back, bending his knees into a beautifully right-angled squat and Dream?

Dream nearly swallows his tongue.

Hob's green spandex shorts and everything they contain have gone from 'nice' to 'scandalously on display' and Dream is absolutely mesmerized. The way Hob's body drops, the wide stance of his legs, the way his cheeks spread as he sinks low—Dream is having capital-T Thoughts, none of which are in the bible, as Desire is fond of saying. Hob's thighs, while built slim, are well-muscled and incredibly toned and every contour of quads and hamstrings is straining into beautiful prominence beneath those shorts. His arse is likewise presented, every curve and dimple beautifully highlighted by shiny green fabric, and Dream is very sure he can see the imprint of individual hairs beneath the stretched spandex. The material is rendered slightly-sheer by the position and, unmistakably, there is a distinctive 'whale-tail' flaring above Hob's shapely cheeks.

Dream's mouth goes dry. Is he—?

There is a telling lack of lines under the spandex.

He is. Hob is wearing a thong.

Dream is ridiculously grateful for the Extreme Support jock strap he'd put on before coming here; he is having a most unfortunate reaction to every aspect of Hob's demonstration, but his shorts are far more forgiving than Hob's and the underwear beneath them is keeping things decent enough for the public environment.

He hopes.

"See the problem so many people have with squats is the knee strain," Hob is saying, as he straightens up again. He lets go of the pole. "Most of the time when we do squats, we're leaning forward a bit for balance, right?" He bends into position, demonstrating; his arse and thighs are on display again and it is no less arresting than the previous example. "And that's where that knee pressure comes from, trying to keep that balance."

Dream can think of several ways to help Hob keep his balance in such a position, all of which involve their bodies in intimate proximity and none of which would be particularly easy on anyone's knees.

"But like this"—Hob takes hold of the equipment again and leans back, drops slowly into his squat—"it's easy to keep your chest straight, get all that nice core support and this ninety-degree angle here"—his free hand strokes the curve of his own arse from hip to thigh and Dream inhales sharply—"and your anchoring pressure is all in your heels. No knee strain!" He sinks deep, presumably in demonstration and Dream is so full of lewd thoughts he genuinely fears he might burst. He watches the flex of Hob's thighs and arse as the man raises himself and lowers back into another squat; he bites his tongue to still the whimper rising in his throat, watches Hob perform another slow controlled bounce, is painfully aware of all his blood rushing south.

"This keeps all the working power in your glutes, which of course helps you build a nice tight round arse—and that's what we're all here for right?" Hob grins over his shoulder as he sinks down again.

A smattering of laughter answers him, including a chuckle from Death, but Dream cannot stop staring at Hob's arse. Which is indeed. Round. And tight. Chiseled. Contoured into sharp relief beneath the stretch of spandex shorts. And the texture of his body hair on top of all that? The thong? The way his cheeks flex and spread as he sinks low, clench beautifully as he rises up again?

Dream is utterly lost.

His sister bumps him with her shoulder. "Alright there, Dream?"

He makes a tiny, strangled noise that he hopes she will take for assent. He can only imagine what color his face is at the moment.

"You can do this at home, too, by the way, if you happen to have a pole—or a sturdy door jamb to hang onto." Hob demonstrates one more deep squat and straightens up, turning to face the class again. "Alright. Everyone find a support and try it out!"

Dream cannot. He cannot fathom duplicating the exercise with the vision of Hob's arse in his head, performing those same motions—supportive underwear or not, he is going to embarrass himself.

"Here we go!" Death singsongs next to him, indicating the nearest weight machine—which does in fact have two upright supports that will serve their purposes. She steps over and takes hold of one, leans herself back with feet planted wide and performs a squat.

Which does wonders to clear Dream's head; it's not titillating when his sister does it and he finds he can refocus appropriately.

"This feels ridiculous," he mumbles, joining her and reluctantly taking up position. "This looks ridiculous."

"Didn't look ridiculous when Hob did it, right?" Death's tone is entirely nonchalant, not even teasing, but Dream seizes up all the same. He knows she's sharp, that she can't have missed the way he was staring nor what, precisely, he'd been staring at. But her words are entirely innocent. "Just need a bit of practice and you'll make it look that good too, little brother."

He is about to reply as he lowers himself, something scathing and devastatingly witty, surely, but another voice cuts in first.

"Ah, so this is your little brother, DeeDee?"

Hob.

Dream, having just reached the lowest point in his first squat, finds quite abruptly that his body has decided to forget how to move.

His sister is answering. "Hey Hob! Yeah, this is Dream. I finally convinced him to come in with me."

"Wonderful! Always glad to have new friends join the fun!" Hob holds out a hand.

As if Dream is in any position to shake it.

His eyes are nearly level with Hob's chest and it takes every fiber of willpower he possesses to keep them up on Hob's face; in his distraction, he lets go of the pole to shake hands anyway.

Inevitibly, he falls flat on his arse.

"Oh god I'm so sorry!" Hob reaches to help him up, looking alarmed.

His sister is stifling her laughter.

"Thank you," Dream manages, pride bruised, face aflame, but he takes Hob's hand and pulls himself quickly to his feet. He does not dare look around to see who else in the class has borne witness to his bumbling ignominy. Besides which. Hob is no less attractive in close proximity and Dream's brain is replaying all those squats in quick flashes while also gibbering about the chest hair showing through that thin white t-shirt, none of which is at all conducive to keeping his composure. Desperately, he tries to pick up the thread of the conversation. "Yes. I am Dream. DeeDee's brother."

He never calls Death DeeDee. And she had just introduced him, by name, as her brother.

He needs to stop talking before he embarrasses himself any further.

But Hob only grins brightly, shakes his hand firmly. "I'm Hob, Hob Gadling. Teach the class, obviously." He drops Dream's hand, clears his throat. "Didn't mean to interrupt your practice—or drop you on your arse, apologies! Let's try that form again?"

"What? Yes." Dream tears his gaze from Hob's mouth and the dimple in his chin, and then again from Hob's chest, turns to blindly grab at the pole he'd been using. "Like this?" He moves on instinct, dropping into a squat, trying his hardest to remember what Hob had demonstrated without fixating on how his arse looked doing it.

He is not successful.

And he still hates squats.

"That's a good start," Hob says, encouragingly, and Dream is mortified by the way something in him warms to it. "Now let's try straightening up a bit more—may I?"

Dream is nodding assent before he realizes that Hob's hand is hovering over his back, that Hob is asking permission to touch.

He barely stifles the sound in his throat as Hob's fingers skate down his spine, offer firm pressure just below his waist while his other hand guides Dream's shoulders back. "There we go, see? Let the pole hold your balance so you can get this ninety-degree angle, right here"—his hand moves from Dream's back to his hip, a professional touch that nevertheless sends Dream's brain up in smoke—" and takes the strain off your knees. See?"

"Yes," Dream manages, barely aware of what he's agreeing with.

"Now, when you push yourself up, you've got to make sure you're using your legs," Hob cautions, as Dream rises. "Don't pull yourself up using the pole; you want the work happening in your thighs and your glutes." Thankfully (regrettably), his demonstrative touching seems to be done, and Dream does not have to cope with Hob's hands on his arse. He does not know how much more of this he can handle—the proximity, the images still burned in his brain. The touching. That voice.

That smile.

He just needs. One moment. A chance to compose himself, to remember how to behave like a normal human being.

He lowers himself into another squat, muscles already beginning to protest, making sure to keep his form as Hob had instructed.

"Good!" Hob says, sounding genuinely pleased, and Dream's insides turn to goo. "Use those glutes, excellent!"

"Because that's how you build a nice round arse, right?" Death says—how did Dream manage to forget that she is literally standing right beside him through all of this—and Hob chuckles, pats Dream briefly on the shoulder.

"That's right! And it looks like you could definitely use a little help in that area!"

Dream face is aflame. He is aware of the aesthetic deficiencies of his own backside. He does not need them commented upon by a man unfairly blessed in that regard, in front of his sister, particularly not while he is struggling through a horny crisis over this same man. He seizes desperately for the thread of escape glimmering in the comment.

"You dare offer such insult to one who has come to your class for its benefits?" He stands upright as he says it, letting go the stupid pole and drawing haughty arrogance around him like a cloak to hide the tatters of his pride and composure. "How disappointingly unprofessional. Excuse me."

And he flees.

Technically, he strides from the gym area at a reasonable pace. But inside, he is running. He ignores Hob calling after him, ignores the voice in his own head screaming about how rudely he just treated the pretty man with the beautiful arse, ignores the other voice in his head that sounds like his sister scolding him and ducks into the nearest restroom.

He just needs. A moment.

He braces both hands on the sink, grateful there is no one here to see, hangs his head and lets regret wash over him.

He has ruined his chances, he is sure of it. Chances at what, he can't quite say; it's not as though he was planning to proposition Hob nor ask him out. Just. Quietly suffer through classes with his sister and silently ogle Hob for an hour three times a week, perhaps. If he is honest with himself. But Hob is certain not to want him in his class again, nor will his sister likely bring him back after how he has behaved today.

That's one problem solved, he thinks, bitterly.

He should apologize for his rudeness. But he will not interrupt Hob's class to do it. He must wait for Death regardless, and the fact that she has not stormed into the men's room after him means she thinks he needs time to nurse his wounds and pull himself together. So he will do so.

He turns on the tap, splashes water on his face, dries it with the length of paper towel the motion-sensitive dispenser offers him. He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment, his pale face splotchy and gaunt and sour, mouth pulled into an easy frown, and sighs.

No, he had no chances to ruin in the first place.

With a sigh, he turns away and leaves the washroom, retrieves his phone and wallet and Death's as well from their locker, then finds a seat at one of the little round tables in the juice bar area to wait. He checks his watch; the class is scheduled to run for another forty minutes.

It is a long time to sit alone with his thoughts; he opens the sudoku app on his phone, mindlessly working through puzzle after puzzle while he waits.

It has been just under thirty-five minutes when his brooding peace is disturbed.

"Dream, oh good." Incongruously it is Hob's voice, not his sister's. "DeeDee said you'd probably be here. I wanted to apologize."

None of these words are the ones Dream might have expected; he opens his mouth to reply but instead of something normal what comes out is, "But your class is not over?"

Hob blinks, looking as nonplussed as Dream feels. "Er. Not quite, no, but your sister offered to run everyone through cool-down so I could come find you."

"Why?" Why can he not stop his mouth running ahead of his thoughts, that is the true question.

"Like I said. I wanted to apologize." Hob shifts his weight awkwardly, drawing Dream's attention unhelpfully to the way his thin white shirt has gained additional transparency thanks to the half hour spent sweating in front of his class. "My comment was entirely unprofessional, you're right. And I'm sorry."

"It is not untrue." Dream's backside does indeed leave much to be desired in comparison to others. "But. I appreciate the apology." He appreciates the view of Hob's chest as well, but mercifully manages to hold his tongue on that count.

He does not quite manage to keep his eyes from flicking down to Hob's shorts, to the smoothness of the bulge artfully contained by the spandex.

Thong, he remembers, and his mouth again goes a little dry at the thought.

"May I sit?"

"Please." The rote answer is out before Dream can puzzle over why Hob wishes to join him.

Hob pulls out the other chair and drops into it, leans forward just a little. "Really, I'm sorry. I picked up the vibe of your sister's teasing and ran with it but I haven't known you long enough for that to be welcomed or appreciated. I was very much out of line. And I apologize."

"I. Apologize, as well. For speaking so harshly in front of others and making a scene." Dream is trying very hard to ignore the way his insides are wibbling at Hob's words, Hob's voice.

"What? Oh. No, no, it's forgotten, don't worry about it." Hob waves a hand dismissively. "My fault in the first place."

Dream lets the matter lie.

There is a moment of awkward silence.

"So. First time to class, huh?" Hob flashes a bright smile at him, quick and awkward and terribly endearing. "What did you think?"

"It was. Brief," Dream says, before he can think better of it, and Hob laughs.

Dream's stomach swoops helplessly, flutters in consternated delight. Oh. Oh, but he is utterly gone on the sunshine this man exudes.

"Sorry, sorry. Of course. You'd definitely need a full session before you could answer that; stupid question." Hob shakes his head, grin fading, hesitation creeping into his demeanor. "Do you think you'd want to come back again?"

"I am. Undecided," Dream admits, honesty seeing him through as he stumbles over the possibility—does Hob want him to come back? Is Hob hoping to see him again?

Is he willing to suffer a regular gym appointment for the possibility?

"Ah. Well." Hob sounds downright nervous now. "It would probably be…good if you didn't?"

"I beg your pardon?" Dream is so affronted at hearing it stated so plainly he forgets that he has earned the rejection.

Hob startles. "Crap, no, sorry! That didn't come out right." He laughs, a nervous awkward laugh, but his smile is still bright. "Let me try again—sorry. Sorry." He takes a deep breath. "I'd like—I'd like to ask you out. But if you're in a class that I'm teaching then ethically I probably shouldn't do that."

Dream is, metaphorically, knocked in his aesthetically-deficient arse yet again. "You wish to ask me out? On a date?"

"Yeah. Yes." Hob reaches to toy with his earlobe, head tilting into the unconscious motion adorably. "Your sister has told me a lot about you, been talking you up for months and you're very pretty and I would love to get to know you under more comfortable circumstances? If you're interested, of course. No hard feelings if you're not I know we've barely met and I've already put my foot in it many times over but. Could I possibly convince you to let me try again?"

Dream is impressed by the flood of words just tumbling freely forth, and a bit gobsmacked yet unsurprised at 'your sister's talked you up' even as the pieces begin to click into place—but most of all he's delighted that Hob seems interested in him, and charmed by the earnestness with which Hob's asking for a second chance.

As if Dream's little tizzy in the class had been anything more valid than a cover for his own embarrassment. As if Hob has anything to apologize for.

He will have words with his sister later, though.

"My sister. Is setting us up."

"I do believe that was her intention, yes." Hob looks hopeful. "I'm far from opposed, if you're alright with it?"

"Then. All things considered. I will not be returning to your class, Hob." He offers a smile that he hopes is friendly with an undercurrent of coyness, and not off-putting. He glances up from beneath his lashes to catch the way Hob is blinking, his grin broadening in delight.

"Really? Okay! Are you—are you free for dinner tomorrow night?"

"I am. Where would you like to meet?"

"Merv's is a lovely quiet little pub not far from here—do you know it?"

"I do not."

"I'll text you the details then; it's relaxed and low-key but very nice, nothing terribly fancy but amazing food. And they accommodate allergies and dietary restrictions if those're a concern. Can I give you my number?"

"Of course." Dream opens a new contact and presents his phone; Hob types in his info with impressive speed and hands it back.

"Send me a text so I've got yours? My phone's still in the other room."

"Of course," Dream repeats, already composing the message as Hob stands from the small table. This is Dream—I look forward to our date tomorrow. Simple and to the point. Truthful and sincere. Nothing embarrassingly forward like the thoughts running rampant in his head. I want to rub my cheek in your sweaty chest hair like a cat. Or I would like to peel your shorts from your magnificent arse with my teeth. Surely that is too much for a first text preceding a first date. He will refrain.

"I've got another class to teach so I've got to run," Hob is saying as he pushes his chair back in. "But I'm delighted to have met you and I'm glad I won't be seeing you in class again, heh." He winks, an actual genuine wink that charms Dream all over again.

"As am I." He leaves it at that, never mind how badly he wants to say something smoky and lascivious about Hob giving him private instruction in whatever techniques he cares to demonstrate; he thinks that one of them might combust if he could deliver the line correctly, and possibly it would not be him. But he will save it for tomorrow evening, should the date go well. "I will see you tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it." Hob flashes his sunny smile again and turns, striding quickly back to the gym proper.

Dream watches him go, tight round arse and toned hairy thighs on perfect display, and shifts a little in his seat.

He has a feeling the date will go very well indeed.

= Started: 1/10/25 Drafted: 1/15/25 Posted: 1/20/25

It should be noted that I cannot vouch for whether or not the squat modification used herein is legit or safe. The validity of the exercise was obviously not the point of this fic, but, y'know. Just in case.

#TJs Fics #Sandman #Dreamling

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geeky-politics-46 · 1 year ago

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Kinktober 2023 - Day 6

Sex Tape with Doctor Stephen Strange

"A Picture Is Worth 1000 Words"

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Summary: You are feeling self-concious & down on your appearance, but Stephen has an unconventional idea of how to make you realize how sexy & beautiful you really are.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - body image issues, voyeurism & exhibitionism via photo & video, dirty talk, swearing, pet names, oral sex, creampie, vaginal sex, slight daddy kink, a bit of fluff & a little angst.

You weren't even sure what had triggered your self-image issues at the moment. Honest to God, you were just sitting in bed watching a YouTube video, pursuing the sidebar recommended videos when you started comparing yourself to other people.

It didn't matter if it was just a random ad or a promo for a TV show. You started sizing yourself up to all the actresses, models, and even some normal people. No matter who it was, you felt you couldn't compare.

Your stomach was too big. Your butt was too small. You were too short. Too plain looking. Hell, sometimes you weren't even sure how you compared to average. You didn't think you were hideous, but you forever felt like the ugly duckling. Like the potential to be beautiful was there. It just never blossomed. Or, like you sabotaged being pretty by not having enough restraint to eat better or lose weight.

For once in your life, you wanted to be the bombshell. You were too weird to be the girl next door. You always fell into the quirky/cute and funny category. People fell for you once they got to know your personality, but you knew that never once had you stopped a guy dead in his tracks across the room.

In an effort to make yourself feel smaller, you dug around for your massive old sweatshirt. The one you wore whenever you were feeling sad. The material had piled up in places, and it was starting to get holes in others, but the super stretchy material still felt just as big and cozy as if it was brand new. The dark eggplant purple color was also somehow soothing compared to the mostly blacks and grays of your daily wardrobe.

You had settled back in, deep in your own thoughts, when your partner entered the bedroom. You had been with Doctor Stephen Strange for a while now. Long enough that you had more or less informally moved into the Sanctum. You got to spend more time with Stephen and didn't have to pay rent. It was a win-win. The only downside was that you couldn't hide from him when your inner demons reared up.

You didn't even realize he had been talking to you as he changed out of his sorcerer's robes and into his sweats for bed. It wasn't until he sat down in front of you and lifted your chin up to look directly at him that you realized you weren't paying any attention to a thing he was saying.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

You hated the genuine concern on his face. He spent his days literally saving the universe, and here you were trapped inside your own spiraling thoughts.

"Nothing is wrong."

You said it while staring down at your hands. You were never good at hiding things from Stephen when you were face to face.

"Even if I wasn't a brilliant doctor, MD, and PhD, I know that's your 'I'm sad' sweatshirt. So something is definitely wrong."

You closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to jiggle loose the thoughts that were waying you down. Not wanting to waste Stephen's time with your shallow worries. Yeah, he was your boyfriend, but he had plenty more vastly important things to do than talk you off a self-image cliff.

"It's stupid, Stephen."

"Don't care. You've listened to me say stupid stuff plenty of times. This just makes us one closer to even."

You rolled your eyes at him, and you knew he wasn't about to give up. Stephen was the most stubborn person you had ever met. In fact, his stubbornness was part of why he pursued you for so long before you finally agreed to go out with him. If he was set on finding out what was bothering you, nothing would stop him until you told him.

So after another moment of trying to get him off the topic, you finally relented and told him what had you feeling down. Shrinking down farther into your sweatshirt as you spoke, fumbling for the right words. Letting the cozy fabric serve as its own kind of armor.

"I don't even know what got me thinking it, but I'm just feeling down on myself. That there just isn't anything about me physically that is special. I don't think I'm ugly, I just don't get why you bothered to even give me a second glance. Let alone what keeps you interested. You are the great Doctor Strange. You are so hot, Stephen, and I'm just me. I'm just plain. I'm chubby with stretch marks. You are gorgeous. You could literally be with the most beautiful women in the world."

You could see him almost flinch when you called yourself plain and that you doubted how enamored he was with you. Even if he knew it was only a passing thought, he never wanted you to question his love for you. Ever.

When it took a few moments for him to say anything in response, you immediately started to take it all back. Not wanting to drag him down into your funk with you.

"See, I shouldn't have said anything, I'm just having a bad night and -"

Stephen cut you off with a passionate kiss. The kind of kiss that could make you forget your own name. Cupping your face in both of his hands before pulling away from your lips to place several more small kisses on your forehead and in your hairline. Gradually adjusting so he could pull you closer and wrap his arms tighter around you.

"First of all, I love you so much you don't even know. So don't think for one second I would rather be with anyone else. Second of all, I know that you don't necessarily see what I see when you look in the mirror, and you don't even have to believe me, but you are gorgeous. Do you not see that half the other guys practically trail you around like puppies? Rogers turns bright red when you smile at him, and it's a wonder Barnes and Wilson haven't followed you home like strays yet."

That made you laugh. You did know Steve had harbored a crush on you before you started dating Stephen. Tony had let that spill one night after a party. Both Sam and Bucky were such flirts all the time with everyone. Of course, they always acted sweet on you. You assumed it was just them or their way of being nice. You would have to pay better attention next time you saw them, though. Just to see.

"If one of them does follow me home, can I keep him?"

You squinted your eyes and pouted your lips at Stephen. You loved giving him a hard time, and he loved giving you one right back.

"Absolutely not. Even if they scratch and howl at the door all night long. I'm the only one who gets to keep strays, and that only applies to America. On a good day, maybe Parker."

You giggled and shook your head in agreement. America was definitely a great addition to your little family. It did lift your spirits a little thinking about all of that, but it still didn't leave you feeling better about yourself.

Stephen could see the way you were picking at the skin on your hands. Like you were trying to pick away the self-consciousness or what you felt were imperfections. It was a habit he noticed you fell into when you were extra hard on yourself. So, in an effort to distract you and stop you from picking at your skin, he took one of your hands in both of his.

"Do you remember the day you held my hand the first time? Do you have any idea how terrified I was? I was terrified that you were suddenly going to realize how broken and ugly my hands are. How damaged I am, and realize just how below your own league you were dating. Still are, by the way, so maybe I shouldn't say anything. You are the sexiest most beautiful woman I have ever met, inside and out. Every inch of you is incredible and perfect to me. I thought that before you even said a word to me, and getting to know you, and falling in love with you has only made me more sure. There is no one in this universe I could ever find sexier or more special."

"Tell you what, I have an idea..."

Stephen stood up from the bed, moving over to shut the bedroom door. Throwing the lock, too. Now that you had a teenager running about the Sanctum, it was better safe than sorry. Then, he pulled his phone from his pocket. Setting it on airplane mode as he walked back over to you.

"How about I show you what I see? Give you some actual physical proof of how beautiful you are? A picture is worth a thousand words. I imagine some more revealing, naughty photos would be worth even more."

You chuffed at him and raised a questioning brow at his suggestion.

"Stephen, are you seriously suggesting that I let you take naked photos of me as a way of making me feel better about myself? Are you sure that isn't just gonna make you feel better?"

His signature cheeky grin was plastered on his face, and his bright blue eyes were twinkling with mischief.

"Can't it do both? Besides, you know I've asked before for something I can enjoy when I can't have you with me, and I think you look perfect right now. Already in our bed. Already cozy and dressed for bed. Few layers to take off. This is the you I want to see when I'm not here with you."

He came over to where you were still sitting on the bed. An extra swagger in his step and a grin because of the blush you were now sporting. He started to pull teasingly at the hem of your sweatshirt with the hand he didn't have his phone in.

"Come on, take this off. I want you to see how sexy you are. I promise I will let you delete them if you want, although I certainly wouldn't mind keeping a couple for myself, but I want you to see how you look when it's just you and me. Right here, in this bed. The version of you that only I get to see, at least I do hope it's only me. A woman who puts all those supermodels and Playmates to shame. Even first thing in the morning. A goddess if one ever existed, even with bedhead and morning breath."

Layer by layer, you let Stephen slowly strip off your clothes and arrange you on the bed. His fingers and lips adoring every new inch of skin that he exposed before proceeding to take picture after picture. Lovingly caressing every spot you deemed less than perfect. Letting him talk you through pose after pose. Some were simple and basic, normal poses. Some a bit more sultry with little left to imagine. The less clothing remained, the more bold he got with your poses.

As your impromptu photoshoot went on, he also tried to distract you from feeling self-conscious about your body coming into view. Sometimes, by making you laugh. Sometimes, by getting a goofy look on his face as he just kind of stared at you. Almost awestruck.

"You really have no idea how much I fantasize about you, do you? How much of my day I spend trying not to think about you? How when we first started dating, I felt like a teenager trying to control his raging hormones because all I could think of was this. What it would be like if I got the privilege to get this beautiful, incredible woman naked in my bed. That I swore if I got you here, I would never let you leave. I hate that someone ever made you feel like you are anything less than gorgeous, whether in your ratty sad sweatshirt or all dressed up. Although, this, no clothes at all, is definitely my personal favorite."

You tried not to tear up at his genuine sweetness. You could feel your cheeks blushing at his statement, too. You buried your face into the pillow you were holding before softly turning and peeking out at him from the side. Only to find him waiting for the moment you locked eyes with him to take a photo.

In a sudden burst of confidence, you bit your bottom lip and rolled onto your back. Letting the entirety of your body be on display. Laying back and resting your head on the pillow and stretching your arms up overhead, your legs spreading on their own. You closed your eyes and arched your back as you inhaled deeply. Like you were a cat basking in the warmth of the sun.

Your mind was completely clear of all thought until you heard a stuttered breath from your lover. It was a sound you had never heard Stephen make before. It sounded like he was looking at a priceless piece of art or one of the seven wonders. He sounded like he was in awe. Like he was in awe at the sight of your body and your beauty.

You were about to dismiss his, what you were sure had to be, over embellished praise, but then you opened your eyes. You were rendered speechless by the look of utter wonder on his face as he let his cerulean blue eyes wash over every inch of you. For possibly the first time, you saw him really seeing you, and it melted any remaining self-doubt you had in that moment.

You immediately reached out to pull Stephen to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly. Rubbing your nose against his and whispering loving thanks against his lips.

"Thank you, Stephen. I love you, and even though I don't necessarily see what you see, you always make me feel beautiful. Why don't we take a few pictures together, or maybe a video or two? Maybe I want something for when you aren't here too."

Stephen's eyes darkened at the suggestion. You had your suspicion that Stephen had a bit of an exhibition kink. You had sent each other pics before, a short video clip or two, and sexted all the time. You knew the idea of filming the two of you fucking would intrigue him. A wicked smile found it's way to his face.

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how many times I've thought of you asking that or that I've thought of asking. Are you really okay with filming us fucking? Of course it's just for the two of us. Sorcerer's honor. "

Stephen started trying to fiddle with the phone, trying to figure out the best way to set it up to film the two of you. Finding it hard to concentrate after you started leaving kisses on his neck. Stopping to bite and suck at the spot just below his earlobe before continuing to whisper his darkest desires in his ear.

"Well, Stephen, actually the idea does get me a little hot. Maybe if the video turns out really good, a few seconds or minutes can get leaked to a naughty site or two. Anonymously, of course. I don't want to share you with any other woman, but I wouldn't mind showing off all the ways I worship you. Let everyone see how lucky I am. Maybe get some outside opinions of how we look together."

Stephen's eyes practically rolled back in his head at the thought. He never would suggest it himself, but he kind of loved the sound of that. Of the world getting to see how good the two of you looked together. Of seeing how well you both fit together. How your bodies were made for each other.

He scrambled off the bed using the pile of books on the dresser to create a tripod to set up the phone. Hitting record and making sure the bed was centered in the frame before coming back to join you in the sheets again. He used his magic to strip himself of his clothes. If you two were going to make a sex tape, he was gonna put some extra showmanship in it.

You couldn't help but giggle as you reach your arms out towards him. Stepben didn't waste a minute before he started crawling up your body. Teasing and nipping at your bare skin and making sure to snuggle and rub his goatee against you. Your hands immediately grabbed in his dark brown hair, loving how soft and full it felt in your fingers.

As your lips connected, you both groaned in pleasure. Your bodies grinding and rubbing. Letting your hands roam all over Stephen's body now that you had plenty of him to touch. You could feel Stephen's cock already erect between you. Truth be told, taking those photos of you had essentially acted as foreplay for him. He was ready to go by the time he was setting up the camera.

You moaned when you felt his hard shaft slide against the crease of your hip, so close to your sex that was starting to ache for him. Your legs reflexively spread even more on the large bed, and your nails scraped down Stephen's sides.

"Is there something you want, baby? Tell Daddy what you need."

A sly smile on his face as he spoke. Loud enough to make sure the camera heard. Descending back on you and starting to kiss your neck. Sucking a patch or skin into his mouth hard enough to ensure you would bear a mark the next day.

Your brain finally coming back into focus when he playfully bit the same sensitive spot. His bright blue eyes met yours, and he gave you a cheeky wink.

"Come on, pretty baby. Don't get all shy on me now. Not after you let me take all those naughty pictures of you. Plus, this part was your idea, after all. So you better speak up."

A soft groan pulled from your throat as you arched your back and ran your hands up his strong arms. Letting your fingernails scrape along his shoulders. Leaving little red scratches marking him as yours.

"Want you, Stephen. Want you to fuck me. Pretty please, Stephen. Fuck me like only you can, baby."

He rewarded you with a deep kiss, letting his teeth nip at your bottom lip before he started working his way down your neck. Stopping to whisper a "that's my good girl" in your ear before continuing down to your collarbones. Raising his voice once again so it would be audible on the video when he started speaking again.

"You know you are the only one I want to fuck right? This is the only body that gets me this fucking hard. Your's is the only pretty little pussy I dream about filling up every chance I get. Want you full of my cum all the time. Want everyone to know you're mine."

You felt over the moon as Stephen started to kiss his way down your body. Stopping and spending a little bit of extra attention every time he hit a spot that elicited a gasp or moan. Making you arch your back to give him access to every inch of bare skin you could.

He momentarily popped back up to kiss your lips. Suddenly taking your hand in his and lowering it so you were cupping his hard length. Letting his hips rut forward as you started to eagerly massage his hard cock. Already moving to sit up, anticipating taking him in your mouth, only for him to push you back down on the bed.

"Nope, I'm not done with you, baby, lay back. Just wanted you to feel how hard you got me. Feel how much taking those naughty photos of you turned me on? And they are all mine to enjoy, just like my cock is all yours to enjoy."

With that, he promptly began working his way back down your body. Coming to rest between your thighs, pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Leaving small nips on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh and rubbing his facial hair against your skin to tease you.

A soft "Stephen, please!" escaped from your lips as you impatiently waited for his lips and tongue to work their magic on you. Feeling your hips thrust on their own when you felt him blow against your wet cunt. Making your sex flutter and clench. One of his favorite sights.

"Make sure you don't hold back any of those pretty noises darling, want to make sure everyone can hear. Look at the camera as I eat you out, baby."

You followed his instructions and let your head turn to the side. Keeping your eyes open as you stared into the lens. Trying to fight the inkling of self-consciousness tugging at the back of your mind.

Those thoughts vanished completely the moment you felt Stephen's warm tongue make its first pass through your folds. All you could focus on was the feeling of his mouth on you. The scratch of his goatee against your most sensitive spots. He was taking his time. Lavishing your cunt with long licks and sucking kisses.

Stephen was a perfectionist, and that translated into every aspect of his life. Including sex. His photographic memory helping to make sure he knew exactly what way to lick and suck at your pussy to bring you to climax in record time. Only using his fingers on occasion. He could get you there with his mouth alone. Tonight was clearly going to be one of those nights.

Your back arched as he suckled on your clit. Keeping your gaze locked on the camera lens. Making sure to give Stephen the sights and sounds he wanted for your video. A long moan falling when you felt his tongue thrusting in and out of you. Hitching your legs up higher and farther apart so he could go deeper while letting your hips start to rut against his face.

As soon as he could feel you getting close to orgasm, Stephen pulled away and pounced on you once again. Wasting no time before he started to slowly thrust his hard cock into you. His lips biting at your neck.

He growled when you whimpered at the feeling of his cock bottoming out inside you. Holding perfectly still and letting you start to squirm beneath him. Wanting you to beg him to move.

"Tell me what you want. Want you to say it again. Say it to the camera, sweetheart. Tell them why you're whimpering."

Your face now contorted into a pout as you tried so hard to get any sort of friction. Stephen's hips pushed flush to yours, holding you firmly in place.

"Want you to fuck me, Stephen. Need you to fuck me hard. Make me feel good, daddy. Please make me cum. Please."

He smiled and kissed you deeply. Bringing his hands to cup your face and giving you another moment of sweet intimacy before he gave you what you wanted. Pulling away and pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Scooting you just a little so the camera would be able to see his cock stretching and filling you. Once he had you right where he wanted you he began thrusting.

"You asked for it, sweetheart. You turn me on so fucking much. This is just gonna be the first time I make you cum tonight. I'm not gonna stop until you feel like a goddess. My goddess."

You reached up to intertwine you fingers with his as he started fucking you harder. Leaning forward so your ass was slightly lifted up off of the bed and his tip was pummeling that sweet spongy spot on your front wall. Making you clench around him each time he hit it. Your voice coming out in little squeaks and the sound of skin slapping punctuating Stephen's movements.

You could already feel your orgasm building when Stephen moved to bring one hand down to begin rubbing at your clit. Pulling his cock out long enough to smear some of your wetness on the swollen bundle of nerves. Your cunt immediately clenching around him as he started tracing small circles there with his thumb.

"That's it, my love. Can feel you getting close. You better cum soon because I'm not gonna be able to hold on much longer. Wanna fill you up every day. Mark you as mine. Inside and out. Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum."

Stephen's own dirty talk getting the best of him. His head dropping down to watch his cock slamming in and out of your drenched cunt. Your pussy gripping tight around him sending him over the edge. His thrusts getting faster and his fingers on your clit mirroring his hips.

He let out a deep groan as he started cumming inside you. The feeling of his warm thick cum filling you triggering your own orgasm. Your cunt drenching his cock and his cum filling you completely. Your moans mingling in harmony with Stephen's. Your hands that were still clasped gripping each other tighter.

Stephen's body falling onto yours and your lips meeting for slow, sweet kisses as your highs continued to ebb and flow. The sensations slowly fading as you came back down together. The feeling of Stephen's weight on top of you lulling you closer to sleep. All worries and neuroses disappearing and receding back into the depths of your mind.

You were with Stephen, and Stephen loved you exactly as you were. He only had eyes for you, and he would love you no matter what. Even on days when you couldn't see your beauty, you knew he would help you to see it. Even when you didn't love yourself, he would give you enough love for both of you.

Eventually, Stephen rolled to the side and pulled you with him. Settling you under the covers and holding you close. Pressing kisses all over your face as you floated in the twilight space between waking and sleep. Not moving or pulling away until your breath settled into a steady rhythm that told him you were close to sleep.

Then Stephen stood up and went over to the phone. Stopping the recording and bringing the phone back over to the bed. Setting it down on his nightstand and purposely not setting his usual morning alarm. He wanted to sleep in with you tomorrow. He would deal with Wong later.

You were too exhausted to review the products of your photoshoot right now, but the next time you were feeling down or self-conscious, Stephen would be ready to show you just how beautiful you really were. If you still didn't believe him, maybe he would bring up the idea of an outside opinion like you suggested. You would have the world drooling over you, and he would get to gloat that you were all his.

--------------------------------

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Stephen Strange Taglist: @starkiller-queen @glitterylokislut @verycollectivecreator @chatampr @maskmare931 @lovecleastrange @wheredafandomat @mkixx @evelynrosestuff @katefullerrr @littlepinknightmare @foofarny @stygianoir @moonroyalt @saturnsbabe69 @blaxdet @blackrose-92 @ironstrange1991 @ghxul-x @nancy-thompsons @wolfatheartandsoul @dangerouslittlefairy @n0obmaster-69 @oliveoilthoughts @onebatch--twobatch @yourmajesty13 @blondekel77 @lil-sweater-slut @gwephen @taramaria @sinceimetyou @slashersrus @coeurgrenaty @cc13723things @just--a-magpie @supervengerslock @strangelockd @dont-feel-so-good-peter @kingsmanperfecthartwin @ghost-lantern @inlovewithloki16 @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @itssmaugtheterrible @katherinemaximoff @veryfancydoilies @cute-angi @mochacake2016 @prix19 @alexfanficnook @anotheroddfish @namor-is-the-way @xourownsidee @baes-x @dreamingsmile @negar77rd @imaginesfreetotake @ppatricia34me @rougepetale @tis-vereon @divinearchangel @sherlux @hiddlechive @ginnykate @thatesqcrush @friendofplenti @yuugenmomo @holdmyowos @the-royal-petals @lokislov3 @captaincarmel164 @lucimorningst4r @mydearalmira @petalcranberry @singhfae @emotionsareforuglypeople @trappedinlimbo15 @veryladyqueen @icytrickster17 @kentucky-criedfricken @briefhandsstudenttoad @calamityismyspecialty @sinisterstrange616 @patbrdac @trojanaurora @azu21 @massivehahaao3tree @strangesgirls @tobios-shawty @evelyn-kingsley @rmoonstoner

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starsofmilos · 3 months ago

Text

Shadow (Logan Howlett x reader)

Synopsis: He was supposed to love her...Not you....

So I've decided to come back and I'm doing better than ever. I have also decided to no longer limit myself to just one character I love Adrian Chase but I'm gonna write what makes me happy. Send requests for Wolverine if you'd like!!!

Logan Howlett Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of sex, kissing, angst, fluff,scenting

Jean Grey...

The very name was more pretty than yours. She was everything you weren't.

You could never be her.

That's why you understood why Logan loved her. You craved that same gazing look he gave her. The way his eyes seemed to grow almost soft when he would stare at her.

The crinkles in the corner of his eyes when he would smile at her.

You could never be Jean Grey. Especially considering the fact that Logan couldn't even spare you a glance half the time.

You were a background person. A wallflower. Even before you developed your mutation, you had always just been average.

Ironically enough your mutation allowed you to control the vines and flowers.

You built a garden for the students to play in. It was your pride and Charles loved it. It's where you spent most your time, tending to it.

Jean loved books while you loved the mud.

It was another boring blissful day. Nothing new. Nothing exciting. Another mission for the team. You went on them anytime you could. Your florals allowed you to heal wounds.

You always went as support. The only person never really needing it being Logan. Nothing you did ever really benefitted him it seemed.

Jumping a bit, you looked to your side seeing Logan. His eyes staring ahead. Jean and Scott had just gotten together making it known to everyone.

Logan hadn't seemed to care but you could see the longing in his eyes. How he wished it was him

Jean was leaning against. Him that she was kissing gently as she caressed his chest.

Not that you knew, but you were wrong.

Logan stared in longing, but not for Jean. He stared for the craving of being loved.

As you fiddled with your thumbs, he stared down at you. Wishing it could be you holding his arm. Kissing his cheek as he grumbled.

Logan knew he was a unworthy man, but he'd kill for the very touch of your lips against his cheek. For the idea that maybe you could love him in the way Jean loved Scott.

Anytime you believed he was staring at Jean, he hadn't been looking at her. He was looking at the you.

He was only looking at her wishing it would be you staring at him the way she stared at Scott.

Jean and him had a complicated relationship, but the way he felt for you surpassed anything he ever believed he felt for Jean.

You lit the room up.

He never even really liked flowers till he met you.

"Doll what's goin on in that mind of yours?" His smooth voice sounded out as he whispered in your ear.

You jumped in surprise hearing his voice. "Oh nothing. I was just thinking about what new flowers I wanna add to the garden back at the manor."

Logan chuckled a bit. "Always thinkin about flowers huh? What kind were you thinking though?" He smirked lightly at you.

"Bleeding hearts." You grinned at him bashfully. It was hard not to feel anything when he would smile at you.

"Those sure are beautiful." He huffed a bit.

"You know what those are?" You teased a bit laughing as he glared at you.

"Course I do. I'm not an idiot all the time." Logan grumbled a bit puffing his cigar.

"I never said you were." You quickly reassured him. "Just not many people know plants."

"I learned for you." He whispered out.

Your smiled dropped as you looked at him in slight shock. That was unexpected.

"Did you really?" You whispered out now. Logan smirked at you ruffling your hair.

"So bleeding hearts for the garden?" He asked again changing the subject.

"Yeah..bleeding hearts." You repeated still staring at him dazed.

The mission went smoothly as usual. Logan always made sure any mission he went on for you did. He never wanted you overworked.

Jean smiled as you tended to her minor wounds. "Thank you." She smiled as you worked.

"You don't gotta thank me. I'm just happy I could be of some use." You chuckled a bit.

Jean shook her head, "You shouldn't do that. Don't talk down on your self like that."

"I can't help it." You tried to joke. Jean shook her head again.

"You should ask him out." She spoke up. You looked at her in shock.

"Who?" You tried to play it off. Jean couldn't afford to know. He was once someone she saw romantically.

"You know who. He's staring at us right now." She smiled. You turned your head finding Logan.

"He's staring at you. He always does." You sighed out. Jean shook her head.

"You're wrong. He's staring at you. I know. I could tell. Trust me..I don't hold a candle to how he looks at you." She smiled walking away.

Rolling your eyes, you began to pack your things. How could she know what Logan truly wanted?

You knew she could read minds but she would never pry in his. At least you hoped she wouldn't.

Once home, you were the first off the quinjet not noticing how Logan's eyes followed you.

Quickly you ran to the garden smiling as you saw it intact beautifully.

You used your mutation to brighten the flowers making a vine above hanging the bleeding hearts.

"Here I thought you'd race to get some rest after a mission. Should've known you'd be out here." Logan's voice sounded out.

You turned to face him smiling.

"Couldn't help it. Been thinking about this the entire fly back."

Logan approached gently touching the flowers. "They sure are beautiful..."

"Thank you.." You whispered in response. Logan stared in amazement at you not looking away as you met his gaze.

It felt impossible. How was he staring at you this way?

You weren't Jean.

That's why he was looking at you though. You weren't Jean. You were you.

Logan was always a man of action. Not words. He leaned in giving you the opportunity to move. T

o push him and ask what he was doing. He didn't even know what he was doing , but he wanted to kiss you.

God did he want to kiss you.

His lips brushed against yours.

A small breath left you as he shut his eyes. Your hands moved up his shoulders whining as he pressed himself against you.

He kissed you with everything he had.

You pulled away looking at him in shock. His hand caressed your cheek.

"God I am so selfish for asking this. I don't deserve you, but please let me have you.." He whispered kissing you again.

You panted nodding as he kissed you again. His head moving to nuzzle against your neck.

He inhaled your scent deeply growling as his hands moved your waist caressing your hips.

"Logan.." You whispered pulling back to look at him. "I'm not..I'm not used to this..do you really want me?" You asked him in shock.

"You have no idea doll. No fucking clue what I would do for you." He whispered panting.

"Logan.." You whimpered his name as he caressed your head.

"I'm right here. I want you..so let me have you.." He spoke in a slight desperate growl.

"I thought you wanted her.." You spoke softly. Logan shook his head.

"Don't say stupid shit. All I want is you."

You smiled at his attitude laughing as he lifted you up carrying you away.

"Shush..we're getting food." He grumbled.

"Okay..guess I belong to you now." You teased.

"Damn straight you do." Logan huffed a laugh knowing you'd be stuck next to him forever.

Not that you'd complain though.

#logan howlet x reader #logan wolverine #logan howlett #x men movies #wolverine x reader

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mrsrileywrites · 10 months ago

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Hi! I read lots of your work and im SO IN LOVE!!! Like I absolutely fell so hard for papa simon 😭😭 i wanna give him a babyy! But i was wondering, how would pregnancy be like with his child. I mean bro is HUGE so his baby would probably be not only pretty big and probably weight a little bit more too than an average newborn. If its okay with you would it be possible for you to write a little story maybe add a little bit of angst? (Idk like argument about something that made the reader really sad?) but please a happy ending 🥹

Feel free to ignore if thats not your thing or just not feeling comfortable writing about it!! LOVE YOUU!! Btw sorry for any misspelling English is not my first language.

First of, as a not native English speaker, your English is perfect.

And second, thank you for your kind words, it really encourages me to keep writing and also boosts my ego 😁

You asked in such a nice and respectful way so I really want to make you happy.

Now here's the thing, I'm an adult with lots of responsibilities and sometimes adulting makes me tired, like last night when I was trying to finish this but I fell asleep and I woke up this morning to find half of my writing disappeared, it just vanished 🥲

But I'll give you this to munch on and I promise I'll finish this before the end of the week.

I hope this is what you were expecting... Enjoy 🫶

A little over 700 words.

_______________________

You stood in front of the sink of your bathroom, holding a pregnancy test on your shaky hands, two little red lines staring right back at you.

How did this happen? How would you tell him? He doesn't want kids, he made it clear from the beginning and you accepted it without a fuss, that's why you've been taking your pills diligently every day, you didn't forget one, did you?... No, you know you didn't, how did this happen?

"You okay there, love?" Simon knocks on the bathroom door and you jump in surprise, like a child that's been caught red handed.

"Y-yes Si, j-just give me a minute... I'll be right there." Your period is about three weeks late so you bought a pregnancy test, your best friends advice, it wouldn't hurt, it was just to make sure, you certainly were not expecting this.

You hid the test on the cabinet under the sink and washed your face before coming out.

It's been a week since your ob-gyn confirmed a six weeks pregnancy and you still haven't found the courage nor the right time to break the news to Simon, so when he gets a call from Price to get deployed on a long mission you fear it would be too late by the time he comes back.

One month at most he said when he kissed you goodbye almost two months ago, you are 16 weeks into your pregnancy and your bump is starting to show, which only adds to your anxiety, between the morning sickness and your hormones being all over the place you still haven't figured out how to tell him.

As you ponder how to break the news to him, you realize that a simple phone call wouldn't suffice. With him stationed on the other side of the globe, risking his life every day, you hesitate to burden him further. At the same time, you know it wouldn't be ideal for him to return home and suddenly find you waddling around with a baby bump.

So you stay quiet and whenever he calls and asks why you sound so exhausted you blame it on your job, you say you are just stressed out, and he promises he'll take care of you once he's back, he'll relieve you from the stress the way you like it, the way only he knows how to.

You are laying on the couch wearing Simon's t-shirt, stuffing yourself with your favorite ice cream and watching trash tv when you hear fumbling outside your front door before it swings open, a very rugged Simon stands in the threshold , you curse under your breath, he didn't say he was coming home the last time you talked on the phone three days ago so you stand there and look at him overly conscious of the bump hiding under his t-shir and you thank the heavens he is a big man, you think the loose fit of his T-shirt would buy you time, your ice cream long forgotten in the coffee table.

He walks towards you with long strides as he pulls his balaclava over his head running his fingers through his messy hair and you shy away, you step back and freeze, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights, he stops in his tracks and tilts her head, his eyebrows pinch as his eyes linger on your midsection and you know you're fucked, he noticed, how wouldn't he, and you hope and pray he'd say something, anything, but he doesn't, he turns on his heels ready to walk out.

"Simon wait!" You call for him and he stops, his hand lingers on the door knob, "I can explain, please just hear me out" your voice cracks and you wish you had been brave enough to tell him before, you know about his childhood and his trauma, you know his struggles and why he didn't want children in the first place, he trusted you and you broke his trust, you deceived him from the moment you found out you were pregnant and decided to keep it to yourself because you were too scared to trust him back.

"Explain what?" He shouts turning around and walking towards you again, your hands fly to your belly instinctively, protective. You lower your head, eyes glued to the floor, ashamed.

#simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #ghost cod #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x pregnant reader #angst?#mrsrileywrites

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sunny-ssunset · 4 months ago

Text

Pretty in pink!

Yandere South park x Girly! Fem! Reader

divider by stephaniesydney on deviantart

Chapter six

♡Its quite short, But to make up for it I'm planning a huge chapter regarding the party ;)

Masterlist!

TAGLIST: @giyusdarling @wowowpx

"Stan I missed you so much!" Y/n's sickly sweet voice ran out as she flung herself on Stan. He catches her with a grin and reddened cheeks. "I missed you too gorgeous.." Stan looks at her his eyes filled with love, shame she can't do the same.

"Aww! How sweet." Y/n smiles, "Hey I'm having a party this weekend, Do you think you could bring me so-" "Yes." Stan interupted eargerly. He hasn't been to Y/n's house before, He'd give all the weed he could to see where Y/n sleeps.

"Aww!! Thanks baby!" Y/n's eyes beamed, inviting him into a kiss, Stan eagerly accepting, making a small noise as the kiss deepened. Y/n pulled back, cleaning up her smudged lipstick, smiling back at Stan's lovestruck face.

Y/n smiled, she loved the attention, she deserved it. She was such a good girl. "You can come to the party." She smiled blankly, "As long as you bring some weed, So you promise right?"

"I'll do anything to see your house"

"Yeah, my dads kinda desperate with me acting like a 'normal kid' I'm sure he'll give me some" Stan smirked, bashfully looking into Y/n's eyes.

"Thank you Stan." Y/n stared blankly.

The two spent the evening together, cuddling and watching movies. Y/n thought the least it was the least she could do, pretend to like him for some weed, An average occurance at this point. Its funny what people will do for her attention. Hilarious actually, She'd spend hours laughing to her reflection. I mean someone so ugly could get people weak in the knees at her touch, ITS SO FUNNY!

Meanwhile, Wendy looked into her broken mirror, Tears flowing down her face, How stupid was she to think someone like Y/n could like someone her. It had to be done. She will be better than Y/n The new and inproved Y/n. She'll show Y/n what she is missing, Y/n deserves to be friends with Wendy. Not the other way around.

dividers by @k1ssyoursister

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thesecretmansion · 1 year ago

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heyyy could you please write smth where remus is with a taller reader (think 5'10 or 5'9) and other girls are talkinga bout how she won't fidn love bc guys will be intimidated and then this absoloute GOLIATH of a man (remus) appears and like hugs her and the girls have to shut up. also could you please please make her a girly girl. Im so tired of tall girls always being portrayed as masculine.

thanks a tonnnnnnnn!!!

"I mean she's pretty sure but she is just… so tall"

"Yeah I mean what guy would want that"

"Brad told me that guys like short girls specifically ones at yknow what height"

You heard all of these comments but none really stuck out to you. They were all phrases that you had heard before throughout your life. You were above average and lived in a town with mostly below average girls which made you seem even more massive. The gaggle of girls picked up their volume as they got closer.

"It's a waste she doesn't play basketball"

You almost let out a snort at that one. You were highly uncoordinated when it came to sports. You had in fact been pushed into basketball when you were younger but when it became clear that it was not something you enjoyed, you dropped out.

"I wonder how tall she is exactly"

5'10. That's how tall you were, give or take a few centimeters. You checked the time. Remus was supposed to meet you at 3:30 and it was currently 3:45.

"And she wears heels to parties. She is SO brave"

"Right? I wonder where she gets her clothes"

They couldn't be serious. You felt your eyes roll. They were acting like you were some ginormous creature and not 4 inches taller than them. You checked your watch again.

"I just wonder how hard it is for her to find a boyfriend?"

You heard someone behind you call your name and as you turned you caught a brief glimpse of the girls mouths hanging wide open. There a few feet in front of you was your glorious boyfriend holding flowers.

Remus hustled to catch up with you and gave you a sweet hug. His arms were huge as they wrapped around you and you felt bad for the way his poor back had to bend in order to give you a proper hug.

"I got these for you as an apology", He blurted before you could say anything.

"Remus", you laughed as you accepted the flowers, "you could have just called"

"Yeah but...", He trailed off as he shrugged. You craned your neck up even further too look him in the eyes. You felt your eyes crinkle from your smile.

Your smile only got wider as he grabbed your hand to walk. And it didn't even twitch when you passed the group of girls who were talking.

"Is that her boyfriend? Crikey how tall is he?", an incredulous voice spoke up from the group.

"6'6", Remus called over his shoulder smirking as he did so.

They quickly turned as to make it look as if they weren't staring but you didn't even notice too infatuated with your Goliath of a boyfriend.

heyy. I hope you liked this. my writings a bit rusty but I swear this time that I will actually write anything you guys send in within reason. I got a bit carried away with the comments. I'm not that tall myself (5'5) but there was a girl at my hs that was 6'2 and I wanted to be her so badd. Also unrelated fun fact but ginormous isn't a real word. Its a combo of gigantic and enormous and was first used in ELF.

#remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin #marauder era #marauders #the marauders #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era #the maruaders #tall!reader #even taller remus

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cloangi · 4 months ago

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Things I like to think about for Keegan

(Huge ass ramble, so be aware of a yapping session 🗣🔥)

Even though we don't know what the Ghosts members' parents look like, I like to think that Keegan looks a lot like his mom

Keegan P. Russ, a man born to a beautiful mother and average ahh dad (/j)

I actually feel like maybe Keegans parents were actually pretty good-looking. Or at least leaned towards being attractive, like seriously take a good look at Keegan and tell me he has bad genetics (he doesn't)

Prob got his facial structure from his dad or sum, however genetics work. But his eyes? Hair color? Definitely his mom. So imagine Keegans mom, a rough image of her, then Keegan standing right next to her. Just 2 pairs of blue eyes staring into your soul.

They look like twins, man 💀

Nah, cause imagine blue-eyed Keegans mama holding baby Keegan himself with eyes that are grayish-bluish (babies can have different colored eyes when they're born. I had gray eyes instead of brown in the beginning in my case) and they're both just...staring.

Okay maybe Keegan got his emotionless stare from his dad, or maybe it's the aftermath of the whole Sand Viper mission he experienced back in his early days (bet ya forget the mf is basically old compared to most of us). I think his mom's eyes may have carried a type of confidence, a type of softness in them (that's why his Keegans dad fell in love with Keegans mother fr /j)

And yeah Keegans dad has brown or hazel eyes lololol. Plus brunette or very dark colored hair. (He and his son do look related, he's not completely the odd one out)

Great, now I wanna hold a baby version of Keegan in my arms 😔 (I feel like he was lowkey a very vocal baby. Always whining and babbling, not crying, just making sounds. Definitely loved his mom a lot more than his dad though)

Can't be too sure about his childhood though. I think maybe he came from a semi-broke family, yeah his parents loved him and each other (maybe Keegan even had some siblings. But he strikes me as an only child due to how quiet and mature he is, an only child like me fr). But yeah, I feel like he had a bit of a rough upbringing in terms of a financial situation. Makes sense as to why he would be in Sand Viper as a barely 15-16 year old highschooler.

Speaking of which, how could Keegan even be 16 at the time of Sand Viper? You have to be at least 17 to even be able to join. Like, for the National Guard, you can join as a junior in high school, but only when you turn 17. So, in a way , it doesn’t make sense as to how Keegan happened to be there at an age below 17.

(maybe he got stuck there and decided to fight with the others cause they weren't able to evacuate him like everyone else or sum, or make him go back to the hospital where all the civilians were. I forgot a good portion of Sand Viper)

(And during this time he maybe met Ajax who was of a proper age to even be there, since he was 17-18 or so)

I know the devs didn't pay too much attention to his birthdate, so it's pretty messed up when someone does actually pay attention to everything and his life timeline 💀

Could it be possible that they accidently messed up his birth date (head)canonically? Like, my mom's birth date is messed up on her drivers license, and I'm pretty sure her ID also has the same thing.

Imagine some guy accidently inputted the wrong date for Keegan in some sorta military database and didn't even realize nor bother to change it 💀

Stupid I know but yeah, the devs fault on that part to mess up his age like that cause you literally CANNOT be on the battle field as a 15-16 year old, especially in the USA since I'm pretty sure child soliders don't exist here anymore.

But yeah, that's pretty much it

Thanks for reading

#call of duty #cod #cod community #cod ghosts #call of duty ghosts #ghosts cod #cod keegan #keegan p russ #keegan russ #keegan #cod thoughts #rambles

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sadbastard-bug · 1 year ago

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Bros before hoes (sorry sophie)

Aka Simon and the reader walk to get donuts to distract Simon from his rejection.

You hadn't heard from Simon in a week, which wasn't exactly normal. A day or two of nothing sure, but a whole seven days of radio silence? Your phone didn't even say he had read the messages you sent. So here you are, a train ride away from home as you stand outside your bestfriends house. You tilt your head as you survey the dead quiet home, theres not a single light on and all the curtains are drawn. Biting back your worries you ascend a short staircase to the porch and hesitantly knock on the glass door. Stepping back you put your hands in your pockets, turning your head skyward as you wait. Theres zero response so you knock again, and again, and again. Each rap against the door more frantic then the last as you genuinely consider breaking in, until eventually you hear it. A shuffling and a very irritated but familiar voice.

Simon looks awful when he opens the door, not looking like he's slept for days and his skin is paler then normal. Theres more stubble then average on his face and his bedhead is so bad you fight the urge to fix it for him the second you notice. You don't realize your stareing until he brings his hand up to his face, clearing his throat. "Why are you here?" It's a easy question but the blunt tone of his voice has you scrambling to explain yourself fast, lest he shut the door in your face.

"You haven't texted or called in days Simon, I got worried something happened to you man."

And with the way hes slumped against the doorframe you do believe something's happened but he does look uninjured at least so you take comfort in that. He doesn't speak for a moment before he sighs and steps back into the house, waving a hand for you to fallow him.

His house is neat, you've come to know his mother is a clean freak who keeps most of the house pristine. Following behind Simon you wordlessly head down the hallway to his room which is the only place his mother doesn't touch. It shows of course, his bed unmade while trash, clothes, and even full plates of food sit around his small room. He doesn't bother to shut the door behind you and instead instantly moves to fall onto his bed, laying on his back completely spread out on the twin sized mattress. Eyeing a plate your pretty sure used to be eggs at some point you quietly move closer to him, stopping right in front of the edge of his bed. Your head tilted as you look down at him, concern clear on your face. "What happened?" The question seems to strike a nerve in your freind and he rolls onto his side to face away from you. His head covered by his hood, though it's clear in his voice he's upset. "I confessed to sophie"

Sophie, right. The third to your trio who you both met in college. A girl who you knew Simon was almost hopelessly into. If it was any other circumstance you would have clapped for him, you certainly never discouraged him from asking her out but not now. Not when it's obvious the girls response wasn't something he was happy about. Biting your cheek you sit beside him on the bed, your backs to eachother as you attempt to give him space without hanging off the mattress. Your afraid to speak even as curiosity eats at your mind. You do want to know exactly how it went but that can be pushed to a later date. When Simon's not curled up in his room like if he gets anymore into himself he'd dissapear. For now you settle for a simple but sympathetic "I'm sorry man"

Not the best thing to say but certainly not the worst. You both sit in deafening silence afterwards, you nervously chewing the insides of your mouth and Simon laying motionless on his side. There's nothing you think would actually help him to hear right now, you know no words of comfort would actually get through his head so you instead go the route of distraction. Clearing your throat you glance over at him "wanna go get donuts?" You honestly thought about suggesting ice cream but that's more of a break up food isn't it? Not exactly for rejection but you do know Simon enjoys sweets so you went for the next thing you could think of. You think he's not going to answer after a while of silence but he eventually shifts, sitting up on his bed as he rubs at his eyes and gives a half hearted nod. You gladly take the confirmation and stand up, brushing off you pants and putting your hands on your hips while you wait for your sluggish freind to pull himself up.

The next thing you know you're both outside his house, you stand off his porch with your skateboard in your arm as he locks the front door behind him. Neither of you own a car so your only option is to walk to the nearest bakery but it's a walk you've done several time by now, years of highschool spent trying to avoid being caught outside by his mom while you both sneak out to satisfy your late night cravings. Once Simon steps off his porch stairs your both off, walking side by side silently in the cold winter air. You wish you had any idea on how to start a conversation but your minds still to concerned with upsetting Simon further so you keep your mouth shut.

About a quarter way into the walk you drop your skateboard to the ground and kick yourself off. Rolling slowly along the sidewalk careful not to move to far ahead of the man your traveling with. It doesn't take long to notice the way he watches you from underneath his hair, his gaze focused on the board. You've tried to teach Simon how to ride multiple times by now but each time ends up with your board several feet away while he sits on the concrete nursing a new injury. You can tell it frustrates him to not be able to get it but you keep trying so once again you slow to a stop, kicking the board up into your hand while you turn your head back to ask "you want to give it a go?"

Simon's eyes drift between your face and the skateboard before he shrugs and steps forward. You smile and return the board to the ground, pushing it towards him and he stops it with his foot. Stepping onto the board he instinctively holds out his arm's to the side, trying to keep balance as the board rolls underneath his feet. He looks like a newborn deer like this, his face scrunched up and his body wobbly not used to the movement of the skateboard while it rolls slowly towards you. Then he leans to far forward, the board almost going out from underneath him and you rush to him with your arms out. The familiar fall never happens however and you eventually register why, your holding his hands as he balances atop the skateboard. You can feel the leather of his gloves warm against your skin and neither of you speak or move for a good second. The board stops still on the sidewalk and you both breath a sigh of relief the air cold enough you can see your exhales. He steps off the board but makes no move to let go of your hands which makes it a bit tricky for him. "You good?" You ask, halfway focused on the way his hands fit in yours. He nods and let's go of one of your hands, only one of them though. You lean down to pick up your board and tuck it under your arm.

You both start walking again completely ignoring the way your still holding onto eachother but it's not awkward. if anything it's the opposite, reminiscent of a time when you two would almost cling to eachother during the winter mornings on your way to school. It's a comfortable thing that spawns a warm feeling in both you're chests. You glance back at him from your peripheral, he's stareing ahead not at all embarrassed or uncomfortable like you expected no, he looks peaceful for the first time in a long while. So you move towards him close to bumping shoulders. This time the silence has shifted to something more normal, something comfortable, Something familiar. A time before college and stress, before sophie and the expected rift between you two when he started crushing on her.

He'll talk about her when hes ready you decide and you'll listen when he does but until then you'll just be quiet, act like kids again. You'll walk hand in hand down an icy sidewalk on a cold day to go get donuts, you'll buy the same kind of donuts you get every time and sit outside the shop on the curb. You'll make a god awful joke about a teacher you both hate and he'll lean forward not to choke as he laughs only to say something even worse in response. You'll drop kick the empty sweets box into the trash and share a cigarette while you head back to his house, laughing the entire time over stupid thoughts in your heads. He won't mention sophie or the confession at all but you won't care, completely okay with being a distraction even if it's for a day. You'll greet his mom later that day as she walks into the home from work and finds you two on the couch watching a bad movie. You'll both help her cook dinner and Simon will actually eat it. You insist on helping wash dishes afterward before you get dragged back to Simon's room where you'll proceed to play video games until your heads are slumped forward and your eyes droop. Simon will pass out first and you'll turn everything off and put it up properly before you eventually fall asleep leaning against the edge of his bed still holding onto his hand, Just like old times.

It's a new thing! I apologize for taking a month to actually post fanfic again after saying I was gonna start writing again but well uh..resident evil and bg3 took up more space in my brain then I thought they would.

This was supposed to be like a hurt/comfort about Simon being sad but somehow it ended up being childhood besties hanging out again, so whoops. Either way it was cute to write dispite my inability to stare at my own writing without tearing my hair out.

;]

#cry of fear #simon cry of fear #cof simon #simon henriksson #Simon henriksson x reader #simon x reader #cof x reader #gn reader

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fishanks · 6 months ago

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ᝰ.ᐟ How OP men would confess

⤷ featuring : monster trio, law, shanks .

⤷ no warnings, I'm a child of God xx

✗Luffy

• in his mind you're already a couple.

• someone will ask him if he has a partner and he's like "yeah! She's right there!" and points right at you

• if you get confused he's also confused, like you didn't know?

• nami would jump in like "um Luffy you can't just force people to date you" and he's like "oi ___, were together right?!" and gives you such a sure look that it makes you genuinely believe that you guys are already together

• I don't believe this man knows you have to actually communicate, like, if he feels something he'll immediately say it so he doesn't get why you'd keep stuff away y'know?

✗Zoro

• held at gun point

• he's locked in a room with the whole crew just glaring at him

• and when he wouldn't do it, they had Luffy bring it up while arguing about who has to wake him up before dinner "___ you should go because he said he liked you or something so he'll take it best from you" and you're all on the floor laughing

• "you can't just believe everything Luffy tells you!" He tried protesting so much. "No zoro, Luffy is the worst liar!"

• he would just stare at the roof for 5 minutes before really quickly saying "be my girlfriend?" With a pout and wouldn't meet your eyes for the next week

✗Sanji

• 2 minutes into meeting you

• but when he's actually serious?? Ooohhh you're in for a treat.

• a candle lit dinner on the most romantic island, had nami dress you up, brooke singing in the background, chopper and ussop are playing around with some lights and throwing rose petals on you, and robin's just watching from above while smirking (he'd shoo them after you're all sat)

• at least 100 poems ready for you, picked out all your favorite flowers to put in a pot on the table and around you, the candles are your favorite scent, he's even wearing the outfit you like the most on him

• "my elegant sweet lovely breath taking lady, will you take such an average man such as myself to be your partner for life? The one who always protects you and cooks for you?"

✗Law

• in a life or death situation

• he tried so many times but his throat just gets stuck

• probably stares at you in the most random times ever and if you ask him if he's ok in his mind he's thinking "alright this is my chance" and ends up asking something like "why are your eyebrows so far apart today?"

• you were fighting one of the strongest opponents you've ever had one day, and got stabbed in the chest by one of the enemies you were fighting off, falling to the floor in pain when he suddenly yells "___ MY GIRLFRIEND ISNT ALLOWED TO DIE" and you're suddenly on your feet again

• after the mission is over you tried to bring it up but he just brushed you off like "yeah what about it?"

✗Shanks

• while he's drunk ass fuck

• was probably playing a card game with the crew and lucky decided to make a bet that whoever lost would have to do something that the crew agreed on (they all ganged up on shanks)

• after the crew told him he had to confess to you he was like "bet" and just threw a random ass banquet as an excuse to get drunk and started following you that whole day hoping a man would try to flirt with you so that he would come and save you

• "hey pretty girl, you alone?" "No she's with her boyfriend" he'd say while pointing at himself and you'd go along with it because you thought it was his way of protecting you, but after the creep went away he turned to you and casually added "no fr though, I'm your boyfriend from now on"

-🐶

#one piece #luffy #roronoa zoro #sanji #trafalgar law #shanks #monster trio

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madelynraemunson · 1 year ago

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CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!x reader)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ minors LOOK THE OTHER WAY

Ch 007: Buckle Up, Baby

A night in the town with Eddie takes a spicy turn when an outfit on display catches your eyes. And what do ya know? It’s your exact measurement…

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 3.5k words

disclaimers & warnings — dialogue heavy, arguing, trauma dumping again, angst, yearning, shy girl yelling at eddie (as she should), sexual tension, grinding, thigh riding, car canoodling 🫣

“She’s a black magic woman, she’s trying to make a devil out of me.”

♡

Spellbinding is the best word you can think of to describe Nocturna, a town spookier than Hawkins just 20 minutes inland. It sure lives up to its name, with the average closing time for restaurants, bars, and shops being 3:30 AM.

“This city is so cute,” you beam. “Love the late night vibe it’s got going on.”

“Right?” Eddie agrees. “If Hawkins were a Spencer’s, ‘Turna would be the back of it.”

Eds takes you to El Diablo Bar & Grill where you settle for a ‘TURNA Tossed salad’ and beer. ‘The Eddie Special’ may have left you full, but there’s no way you’d ever pass up free food.

Your boss helps himself to a couple of beers as well, both of them way too hoppy for your liking. And just as you predicted, downing two of those bad boys after smoking a shit ton of weed has its repercussions.

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing?”

Personal space is a foreign concept for Eddie whenever he’s under the influence. Not like that’s any new information. You just didn’t expect him to be so tender, affectionately fiddling with your hair, using it as a mustache, and then attempting to braid it. You’re surprised because he actually does pretty well.

“Where’d you learn how to braid?” you ask.

“Taught myself,” he replies. “That way if Nancy ever calls out, someone at Hellfire would at least know how to do hair. Luckily I haven’t ran into that problem yet.”

“That’s really thoughtful,” you swoon as Eddie goes to braid your other side.

“I’m also learning how to curl hair,” Eddie adds. “If I could get past burning myself with the iron, that’d be great. Until then, I’ll always vouch for a traditional sock bun.”

You watch has he loops your hair around itself to secure the braid, just as he did the first one. Then comes the unpredictable. Suddenly, you’re taken aback when Eddie gives your hair a tug. Aggressively.

“Eddie!” you cry out.

He spirals into an outrageous belly laugh.

You shove Eddie away from you in a playful form of disgust, his dramatics launching him right out of his seat. Customers start to look your way. You hide your face in embarrassment.

“I think you’ve flown off the handle,” you accuse.

“No,” he denies. “Just comfortable that’s all.”

“Yeah and a bully,” you hiss, undoing your braids out of spite. He knows you’re kidding around.

“What?” Eddie questions, reeling you in via bar stool, smirk growing more and more prominent the closer you get. “You don’t like that I pull hair?”

“That’s enough, you little freak.”

Eddie stops, jokingly wincing at your harsh words. "Thought you were into freaks."

"...Shut up,” is all you can think to say.

"Come on..." he taunts, giving your side a soft pinch. “You know I'm right."

He is right.

You poke his stomach with one of your pointy fingers.

"Okay, and what if I was? Does that get you off? Mr. Know-It-All?”

Eddie clears his throat and squirms in his seat.

"No, actually,” he shakes his head, leaning into your touch. “Cuz that's just not true.”

Your eyes find each other again.

An apology lingers in the air. Eddie bites his lower lip as he stares, closing the gap between you two with a slight turn of his knee. You explore his dark irises, his wide pupils. When fixated on you, they emit what appears to be sorrow, with just a pinch of regret.

"Sometimes I'm wrong. And I fuck up,” he admits. “Whether I like to admit it or not."

Eddie chugs the remainder of his pint before slamming it.

You shrug. “Yeah. Like when you told me to get off my phone today but stayed on yours the entire time.”

Eddie chuckles away from you.

“Playing music…” you persist, leaning into him a little more. “Texting people…”

“You jealous?” he questions, tongue rolling around in his cheek.

“In your dreams,” you lie.

You’re so close to him now you can practically smell the beer. He inches closer, the front portion of his curly locks tickling the side of your face.

“In your dreams.”

Your thighs clench. In your dreams, indeed. Eddie winks at you like he knows.

“Whatever you say,” you scoff. “Freak.”

———— 🌹————

After dinner, you and Eddie decide to walk around the shopping strip. Eddie walks closest to the street, leaving you on the innermost part of the sidewalk like a gentleman.

“So who’s Wayne? Heard you and Henry talking about him before we left.”

“He's my uncle,” Eddie answers. “Pretty much raised me since I was a kid. I owe a lot to him.”

You continue to walk. Somehow along the way, you and Eddie end up strolling with your arms around each other. He turns to ask,

“Who is Max?”

“Max?” you’re stunned to hear that name roll off his tongue. Despite him helping with her YMCA membership, you had always registered them as being worlds apart from each other. “She’s my sister.”

Eddie slowly nods in understanding.

“Her full name is Maxine,” you explain. “Max for short.”

“No wonder,” Eddie chuckles. “I always hear you mentioning a Max and have been wondering who that is.”

“You jealous?” you echo him.

He sneers, “You wish.”

You take this time to admire Eddie. His wanderlust eyes. His pronounced Cupid’s Bow. His thick, wavy locks. The tiny freckle at the crook of his neck that you were sure a lover left for him in a past life. The way his dark clothes always seem to hug him so nice. He’s breathtaking. The hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

"WHOA!" Eddie brings you back. "That's the hottest shit I've ever seen!"

There he goes again. You race after Eddie as he scampers across the street, leading you to what appears to be a lingerie-slash-sex shop. On display is a beautiful scarlet red two piece with fluffy wings behind it to match.

DEVIL WOMAN, is what the set is advertised as.

"Whew, lord," Eddie whistles, pressing his hands against the plexiglass.

He turns to you desperately.

"You can make SO many tips with this on," Eddie insists. "I'm telling you right now woman, you need to seize this opportunity."

"Are you gonna pay for it?" you joke, batting your lashes seductively.

"Sure!" Eddie exclaims. "A-anything you want tonight, you'll get."

It sounds too good to be true.

"Not you trying to spoil me..."

"Definitely me trying to spoil you,” a sneaky smirk forms across his face yet again. “Especially since I’ve been an asshole lately.”

It’s a fair bargain. Not like you can deny it either.

You two shake hands, deal, and make your merry way inside Madame Sédutrice’s Love Boutique.

Time to make his pockets — and heart — hurt.

————💋 ————

It fits you like a glove.

Everything is just right. There is no free space, but there is some real estate to breathe. The set is also squat and split proof. Perfect for a good show.

You strut in front of the mirror like a Victoria’s Secret Devil, relishing over how well the fiery red set accentuates your bust, hugs your hips, and highlights the cheekiest parts of your ass with just enough coverage to have the men wondering.

To leave Eddie wondering.

You’re parading around some more, taking selfies at all angles while Eddie talks to the cashier about guitars. Eventually he does circle back around, as you've been in here for a long period of time.

"Shy Girl," Eddie checks on you from outside. "Did you die in there?"

You put your phone away.

"No, but you're about to."

He laughs. "I love the confidence. Let me at her."

You pull the curtain over so that Eddie can see.

“Jesus fuck.”

Eddie sinks down to his knees, the tips of his fingers trailing from your hips to your thighs, down to your calves. He’s being dramatic again, you think, evident by the three bows of resignation he gives you as he continues to take in your beauty.

"What do you think?" you ask him.

"Simply out of this world," Eddie gasps. He stands to spin you around like he once did before. "You look... like an absolute fantasy. Destined for some alternate dimension."

His breathing heightens as his rough hands trail down to your birthmark. And soon, you’re up there with him.

“I can already see you on that stage,” Eddie gushes. “Doing your thing, stealing the show, driving customers wild. The spotlight soaking in all your beauty...”

“The version of me living in your head sounds pretty damn cool,” you giggle.

You snake your arms around the nape of his neck. Eddie blushes. “She’s a lot like the girl in front of me, actually.”

Either of you can let go now. But you both don't.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks.

"Mmm… I don't think I'm done just yet," you bat your eyes once more. "What’s a set like this without some accessories?"

You grab his hand and he watches in shock — almost starstruck by you — when you manually wrap his hand around your neck.

“Like a necklace of sorts,” you continue. “A choker, maybe?”

“A choker,” Eddie nods. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He gives you a teasing, gentle squeeze. You’re an absolute puddle.

He grins at you connivingly, playfully.

"Lead the way, m'lady. Anything you want tonight is yours.”

———— 🔥 ————

Satisfied is an understatement. You’re strutting back to Eddie’s van now as he trails closely behind, hauling shopping bags that belong to you in each hand.

“Thank you Eddie,” you say as he manages to open the door for you too.

“Anytime, Princess,” he insists.

You get settled on the passenger side while Eddie starts the van back up again. He waits for a while in his seat.

“You looked stunning in that piece,” Eddie raves, the image of you strutting around still living in his head. “I almost don’t want you to wear it anymore.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

“I wanna be the only one who gets to see you in it,” he explains.

“Gatekeeper much?”

“No, I’m just selfish,” he says. “Especially when you look like that.”

Eddie takes it upon himself to fasten your seatbelt for you.

Your eyes trail along as he clicks it in place, adjusting the seatbelt so that it laid perfectly and untangled, protecting your hips…shielding your chest…

“My eyes only, you know?”

“Just yours?”

“Mhm,” he strains. “Mine and only mine.”

His gentle eyes are begging, glued to your lips like bees to honey. His tongue pokes out again, and you watch as he licks his lips in lust. Fuck. You can’t help it anymore. You decide to lean into him and try again.

But hostile air stops you in your place. There's fear in that man's eyes the closer you get and he pulls away from you.

OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

You swat the rest of him away. “You’re doing it again.”

Eddie sighs in defeat.

"I know."

The fact that you didn’t have to elaborate is very telling. Eddie is not stupid. He knows the game he’s playing.

You watch with zero sympathy this time as Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He lifts a hand. You flinch. Then you relax again when you realize the man isn’t trying to hit you.

“I’m VERY aware of what I’m doing, Hargrove. Okay? That’s the worst part.”

“And you think it’s okay? You like stringing me along, is that it?”

“There’s MORE TO IT, alright?” he groans. “I just don’t know how to explain it to you just yet.”

Eddie starts up again.

“I…” he says, his haunted eyes sparkling. “I just. CAN’T. get. involved. with a coworker. Let alone someone who works under me. Think of all the legal issues that can rise up.”

Bullshit.

“That is a FUCKING LIE!” you scream. “A fucking LIE, Eddie and you know how I know that?”

He looks back over at you.

“It’s because you didn’t think twice about it when you were hooking up with Chrissy.”

You’ve had enough of his excuses. Startled, Eddie shies away from you, surprised that you knew of what he so desperately wanted to conceal.

“Who told you that?”

“Who else would know?”

“Everyone at Hellfire, basically,” Eddie laughs pettily. “I just hoped it wouldn’t get around to you.”

Frustrated, Eddie turns off his car. He tosses his keys onto the center console between you both.

“Chrissy and I happened like two or three times. Is that what you wanted to hear?” he asks you. “She was horny, I was horny. She never gave me the time of day in high school so I got all excited. One thing led to another. Thrill eventually wore off. Now she’s just one of my good friends.”

You cross your arms and glare out the window.

“But the reason I was soooo okay with the Chrissy thing is because I only saw her as a fling,” Eddie continues. “End of story.”

“Where exactly are you going with this?”

“The difference with you is that a part of me actually wanted this to go somewhere.”

Does he think you’re stupid? Surely Eddie can’t think you’re just going to fall for his words instead of his actions.

You scoff. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?”

You muster up the courage to look over at him again. And there he is, his big brown doe eyes glimmering under the full moon.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before, Hargrove,” he mumbles softly. “That shit’s terrifying. For the first time in an incredibly long time I feel like someone gets me.”

You attempt to look away again. Eddie cranes his neck over towards you to meet you where you’re at.

“Someone who gets what it’s like to have a shitty, absent father,” Eddie continues. “Someone who also had to learn how to navigate grief before getting a fucking learner’s permit.”

“You can stop,” you choke. “I get the picture.”

But Eddie continues.

“…Someone who also has to be the bread-winner of the family, not by choice, but by necessity. And someone whose now got a shit ton of trust issues cuz somebody else had to go and fuck ‘em up THAT badly.”

Your throat begins to burn. A soul cry marinates at the pit of your stomach.

"I'm so infatuated with you, Hargrove,” your boss insists. “Okay? You have no idea.”

You tsk.

“You’re infatuated with me,” it’s more of a statement than a question of yours. “Yet you push me away.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, like you don’t have trouble accepting things you so rightfully deserve?”

He reaches over to grab your hand. You let him.

"There's nothing scarier than falling for someone who is your literal mirror," Eddie whispers. "Especially when you don't like anything about yourself."

“I know.”

You two fall silent and end up staring ahead for quite some time.

Both of you observe a couple cross the street together. The smitten pair are taking a stroll on the sidewalk, hand in hand and falling into one another like missing puzzle pieces. The guy kisses the girl's forehead, his silhouette reminding you so much of Steve.

“I also didn’t wanna get in between you and Harrington," Eddie mumbles.

“I told you we’re just fuck buddies.”

“But he really, really likes you.”

“Yeah, but if he’s not over Nancy, then what’s the point?”

It’s been a decade since Steve and Nancy broke up and he’s still lovesick over her. When you realized that she couldn’t ever be replaced, you stopped trying to pursue Steve romantically. Eddie falls mute again.

"I'm just his lil pocket pussy for all I know," you break the ice with a laugh.

"Don't say that," Eddie disapproves. "You are more than your body, Shy Girl."

“Then tell me what I am, Eddie,” the wounded part of you speaks. “Since I don’t seem to know.”

His gaze softens. “Well, it’s easy.”

You look at him.

"Corn ball alert,” Eddie prefaces. “But you’re the conversations you have with your regulars, asking them about their day and if they have any updates for you… You're the friendships you make with girls that you don't see a need to compete with. And you're that silly little dance you do when Argyle makes you food. And you’re also the destructive parts of yourself that you keep hiding from but little do you know that even those parts of you tell a story."

The sound of police sirens divert your attention. You shudder at the noise. Eddie seemingly makes note of it and clears his throat as a placeholder.

"…I didn't think you paid attention to any of that, Eds."

"I'm more observant than you think."

You believe him. After all, there are instances when you catch him sneaking a glance at you, turning away too late because you’re caught by his eyes to do the same.

A sigh escapes your body. You interlock your fingers with his.

“I don’t know what... this… is,” you begin. “But all I know is that I really enjoy your company. And that I’ve had a crush on you since the day I met you. If it wasn't obvious already."

Eddie snorts. “Even when I was freaking out over kegs and ground chili?”

“Especially when you were freaking out over kegs and ground chili.”

And now forgiveness is in the air. Monkey see, monkey do, and soon both you and Eddie are grinning at each other from one side of your faces to the other.

“Please,” Eddie requests politely with a gulp. “Will you let me kiss you?”

“Yes.”

To your surprise, Eddie leaves a peck on your cheek out of all places. This fucker, still so polite. He doesn’t touch or graze anywhere else while he does.

“Thanks,” he says as he pulls away. “I guess.”

But you only want him closer now.

“Oh don’t be stupid,” you giggle grabbing his face with both your hands. “Just fucking kiss me.”

You rest your hands at his chin when you pull him closer. And with Eddie’s permission, you sink your lips onto his. His warm breath circles you as your lips attach to one another.

There’s no turning back now.

Eddie’s lips are as soft as a cloud, and they seem to know yours very well. When he’s latched on, Eddie synchronizes with your rhythm almost immediately, getting a few more kisses in before his tongue begs you for entrance. You deny him access and push him back.

“Oooh,” you taunt him, causing him to laugh. “Someone likes me.”

“Maybe,” Eddie blushes, cupping the side of your face with one of his rigid hands. He gives the back of your head an endearing little scratch.

“But you…can’t get involved huh?”

Eddie shakes his head, doing his very best to stand his ground. He’s back to staring at your lips. “No. Definitely can’t…get involved.”

Of course not.

“Not even if I do this?”

You swoop over to press down on the button of Eddie’s seat belt to unbuckle it. Click. He restrains himself, but there’s wonder in his eyes.

“Or this?”

Your hands travel to the side furthest from you as you lean to crank the lever, lowering the head of Eddie’s driver seat to a 30 degree angle.

Amused now, he furrows his brows together and rests his hands behind his head, manspreading as you play that agonizingly long game.

“You’re pushing it, Hargrove…”

Using his unavailable hands to your advantage, you climb over him and assert yourself on his lap. A low groan escapes Eddie’s nose. You make sure to strategically situate yourself right on his crotch. Eddie’s breath hitches, hand hovering over your birthmark as you sink those hips into him. He bucks his up in return, trying to keep up with you.

“What about this?”

“Oh, that’s not fair…”

His hands are back at your waist.

A protruding essence grows in size as you continue to ride Eddie’s thigh. Soft, low whimpers escape from his chest, his dark eyes now beseeching at his mercy. Eddie’s fingers curl, enclosing themselves tightly around the fabric of your baby tee. His available hand gnaws at the seat below him.

“I don’t like playing fair,” you whisper huskily. “I just like getting even.”

Both of yours eyes are glued to what you’re doing, where you’re grinding, and how.

“Why do you do this to me?” he whispers longingly.

“I think it’s safe to say that you’ve been edging me for quite some time, Munson,” you shrug angelically. “Now it’s my turn to give you a taste of—”

You squeal suddenly when Eddie’s hand flies to your throat. The grip he has on you tightens hastily, long before you can even process it.

Shock overpowers you as Eddie studies you eagerly, with flared nostrils and a hot chest. You peer down at him with glossy eyes and yearning lips.

“Back of the van,” Eddie orders. “Now.”

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tag list: @battymunson , @the-fairy-anon, @ali-r3n, @corrodedcoffincumslut, @bebe07011, @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerrr , @jxpsi , @munson-magic , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @holabeans00, @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse

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author's note: i'd be lying if i told you guys i didn't play imaginary barbies in my head in order to map out the argument between eddie and shy girl dfsjklfdkgfgsg would you say I’m a puppet master?

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 5 #joseph quinn #joe quinn #Spotify

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