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souliebird · 4 months

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[[and then I met you || ch. 15]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Words: 8.1k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

The first thing you process as you begin to come to is a slow, rhythmic beeping. It is dull and low and it almost carries you right back into the nothingness. You slip in and out of the fog a few times before your mind is able to catch a hold of conciseness. Even then, it feels like everything crawls by until your thoughts go from incoherent images to actual awareness.

You feel awful - like you've been hit by a massive truck, who then backed up over you only to run you over again. Everything aches, but the worst of it is centered on the left side of your head, going down to your neck. It throbs and feels so stiff. You don't think you could move your head if you tried.

The second worst thing is how dry your mouth feels. It is as if someone stuffed you full of cotton to remove all the moisture from your body, then to make sure you were drained, dried you out under a heat lamp. It hurts to even try to swallow the little saliva your mouth is producing.

You need something to drink.

Like some sort of miracle, something cold and wet is pressed to your lips. It startles you, but you react quickly. You force your lips to part and an ice chip is slipped between them. You suck on it desperately and it only takes a second for it to melt away, but almost instantly you are given another one. This happens two more times before your mouth finally doesn't feel like a desert.

Your eyes are hard to open. They feel crusted shut and you don't know if you have the energy to try and pull them apart, but you try. It takes multiple attempts, but finally they open. Everything is far too bright and blurry.

Matt comes into focus above you, face wracked with concern. His hair is a mess and it looks like he hasn't slept in ages. His eyes, while sightless, are puffy and bloodshot and you wonder if he has been crying. Your brow knits in confusion and you try to reach for his cheeks to offer some sort of comfort. Your hand doesn't make it far off whatever you are laying on, but it doesn't matter because as soon as it is in the air, he's clasping his around yours.

He breathes out your name just as you croak out his.

Above you, he lets out the smallest breath of a laugh, like he is relieved, before moving even closer to you. He presses his forehead to yours and you let your eyes fall shut again - you're too tired to keep them open and you don't think he will mind the lack of eye contact.

“You scared me,” he whispers against you, before you feel his lips brush your cheek.

You manage a confused noise, not understanding what is going on. Your throat burns as you attempt to talk, “what happened…?”

“You've got a pretty bad ear infection,” he tells you and you think that sounds about right. Everything hurts so much and you are far too warm. The cotton feeling in your mouth is also in your left ear, making it feel like half your head is dunked under water.

He is so close, his breath warms your still cool lips as he talks, “It hit you hard and fast - your fever got up to 104 and you wouldn't wake up. We had to bring you to the hospital, but you'll be okay now. Your fever has gone down a lot.”

The words float through you and it takes you a few seconds to grasp onto them and make them make sense. “We…?” You question because you don't know who ‘we’ could be.

“Foggy and I,” he confirms. The hand not clutching your own cups your jaw and feels so cool and nice that you can't help but lean into it. He gives you another kiss, this time to the forehead, with his scruff lightly scratching against you. It tickles.

You realize a name is missing and your heart starts to race. Matt hasn't mentioned your daughter and you start to panic.

Where is she? Where's your baby?

“Minnie?” You ask, but to your non-stuffy ear, it sounds more like a whine.

He quickly starts to shush you, his thumb gently rubbing over your cheek, “it's okay, she's okay. She's safe. Foggy took her to go get some breakfast. She's okay. She's okay.”

His words do calm you, but your heart still pounds in your chest. You know Matt trusts Foggy, so to an extent, you do as well, but you want your daughter. You want to hold her and make sure she is truly alright. She must be so scared.

You get another kiss to the forehead and it pulls you from your worried yet sluggish thoughts. You decide you like the feeling of Matt's beard against your skin. It's not something you're used to, and even if it is a little scratchy, it feels nice. It makes you feel warm but not like your supposed fever is making you feel warm. It's a good warm that wraps around your heart. It helps to soothe you - Matt would never allow your little one to be in any danger.

“Try to get some rest, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere - I'll be right here when you wake up, again. I swear,” he whispers into your hairline and you find yourself nodding into his palm.

Sleep sounds good - you're tired and achy. Your eyes are so heavy you couldn't possibly open them again. You are slumping back down into your pillow before you know it, thoughts slowly buzzing back into nothing.

The darkness takes you easily and you drift off without realizing Matt is practically clinging to you.

----

When you wake again, things make a little more sense. The hazy heavy fog is no longer covering your brain and you are more aware of what is happening around you before you open your eyes.

You can hear people walking around and talking outside your little room and everything smells disgustingly sterile. You can feel where IVs have been placed into your arm and the different monitors attached to your chest. You also know Matt is still clutching your hand and that motivates you to actually look around.

Your head is tilted to the right, stretching out the stiffness on the other side, and centered in your view is Matt. He's asleep, head tilted down with his chin nearly to his collarbone. He looks so peaceful with his chest slowly rising and falling and someone has draped a thin blanket around his shoulders, only adding to his gentleness. You can't see it, but you're sure his knees must be bumping against the bed with how close he is to you.

Your heart flutters in your chest. Had he stayed there this entire time? Has he let go of your hand at all?

You remember when you were in the hospital to give birth. You had been so lonely - no one had been there to hold your hand or keep watch over you. No one had visited you - though you had received flowers from your work friends.

Is this what it will be like now?

You want that desperately - to feel like you matter to someone, for someone to care about you and your well-being, to feel like you aren't always alone.

You squeeze his hand, and even though you feel absolutely horrible - hot and sweaty and like your head wants to fall off - you find yourself smiling at the sweet, handsome, lawyer who fathered your child.

You are so happy you forced yourself to tell him the truth.

You don't hear anything to your left but your heart rate monitor beeping, but your ear is also so clogged up not a lot of noise is getting through and you know it's throwing off your spatial awareness. It hurts to roll your head, but it eases your nerves to find you are alone with Matt in the exam room. However, you can't help the worry that bubbles in your stomach over the lack of your daughter.

You know she must be with Foggy. The hospital is probably an incredibly unpleasant place for her - you hate being here because of the smells and atmosphere and that must be amplified for her. You can't imagine all the awful things she might hear here - the sick and dying and the surgeries. You are grateful for Matt's best friend. You will have to find a way to thank him properly.

You force your gaze back to Matt and begin to slowly rub your thumb over his knuckles. He has so many scars there and you don't possibly know how he could have collected them all. He's told you before he practices boxing, but you don't think it is the bare knuckle kind. Maybe the punching bag can split skin - you have no idea about any of it beyond what you've seen in short viral videos.

You have toyed with the idea of asking about going to the gym with him. You think it would be a fun experience for Minnie and you're curious how fit you actually are. Your workouts consist of chasing a toddler around - star jumps, push ups, and weights are no longer in your repertoire and you haven't properly gone on a run since high school. Plus, Minnie has recently learned what a cartwheel is and you are sure she will want to learn to do one and a gym is a safe place for that.

You fall into a daydream about Matt teaching you and Mouse how to tumble, closing your eyes again as you do. You picture buying cute little leotards and watching your daughter perform a routine until there's movement under your hand.

Matt squeezes your fingers, and you open your eyes just in time to see him blink awake.

He gives you a sleepy smile, then with his free hand pulls his glasses out from somewhere under his blanket and puts them on. You watch him, taking in his crows feet before they disappear.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he shrugs the blanket off his shoulders.

You take a moment to consider the answer. You honestly feel horrible, but you don't feel as horrible as you previously did. There are aches and pains but you feel human again, as opposed to the concept of one. So you squeeze his hand and respond, “Better. I didn't…I didn't think I was that sick.”

Matt hums and somehow scoots closer to the bed, then lifts your hand up to kiss the back of your hand. You feel your face heat up and your heart rate monitor beeps a little faster. “I'm glad, you gave us a good scare,” he says, keeping your hand against his lips.

You have to remind yourself he's a very touchy person to keep your heart rate from increasing even more. To help with that, you drop your gaze to his chest - he's wearing a Columbia sweatshirt that is far too big on him and hides his lean frame.

“What time is it?” His question throws you off at first, but then you realize there is a clock above the curtain entrance to the room.

It takes you a second to process, which you blame on the illness and not the fact you haven't used an analog clock in ages, “Almost 1:30. I'm…guessing that it is PM. I can't really tell.”

Matt nods and you guess he can tell whether it is day or night. You hope it is day - you'd feel so guilty if you'd been in the hospital longer than a few hours.

Behind your hand, a small smile appears on his face, “Minnie and Foggy are on their way back up. I think she heard - oh. Okay, yes, she heard you talking. She says she has a present for you.”

Your heart pangs for your daughter. You don't want her to see you like this, but you desperately need her in your arms. You try to push yourself up, but you don't know if you have the energy to keep yourself sitting.

“Do you know how the bed works?” You ask and Matt shakes his head. He reaches out and feels along the railings, but by his frown, you guess he can't figure it out. You doubt any of the button labels are in Braille.

“Let me get the nurse.”

He squeezes your hand once more before letting go. You tell yourself to ignore the strange feeling that envelopes you as he disappears behind the curtain separating you from everyone else.

You don't want to be alone again.

But you aren't - Matt is gone for barely thirty seconds before he's slipping back into the room, followed by a tired looking nurse. The woman comes up to your right side and you finally notice a little stand computer tucked by the bed. As she swipes her card key to unlock it, she looks at you, “How are you feeling?”

You decide to go with the same answer you gave Matt, “Better, ma’am.”

“Good, good,” she says as she types something. You go through the quick song and dance of confirming your name and birthdate, before she starts her questions, “Your pain on a scale of one to ten?”

You have to think about that - your head hurts but not nearly as much as it did last night and your body feels sore and groggy. You bite your lip before estimating, “About a four..?”

She adds that to your chart, “how about your ear? It should feel a bit clearer, you had a lot of fluid that drained out.”

That surprises you because you definitely do not remember that. You touch your ear and it feels far too warm and sensitive. You had no idea it was the problem, so you feel like you can't compare.

“I don't know. Full? It…hurts. Like it's…sore on the inside?” you feel like an idiot trying to explain, but you have no idea about ear anatomy.

The nurse hums, then turns to you, pulling a stethoscope out of her pocket, “I'm going to listen to your lungs. Take a deep breath.”

You do as you are told as she places the device on your back to listen. You repeat this a few times with her until she's satisfied and she goes to enter her findings in the computer.

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she tells you before leaning down to adjust your bed, so it can help you sit. You go from laying down to being propped up, “He will go over your discharge instructions.”

You're being discharged? You just woke up and haven't talked to anyone at all. The fact they are sending you away confuses you, “I'm being discharged?”

The nurse nods, not even looking at you as she locks the computer, “Yes. Do you feel you shouldn't be?”

You flush at the question and duck your head in shame. You know better than to question a doctor - if they think you should be discharged, you are fine. You force yourself to shrug and apologize, “No, I'm sorry, I just didn't expect it.”

The nurse simply gives you another hum before leaving to probably go tend to a patient that actually needs her. Almost instantly, Matt is back by your side, taking your hand. He kisses the meat of your thumb as he sits back in his chair.

“If you need to stay, you can stay,” he quietly advises.

You quickly shake your head, “No, it will be fine.” You huff a sad laugh, “It's not like I can afford this anyways.” You don't want to imagine the bill you are going to receive - being brought into the emergency room and given all kinds of medicine. You’ll have no more savings.

“Don't worry about it,” he quickly tells you, a frown clear on his face. “Focus on getting better. Taking care of yourself. We can tackle the bill later - there's plenty of work arounds.”

Guilt pools in your belly - you don't need Matt worrying about your money problems. You force yourself to nod at his words, simply so he'll not try to comfort you over this issue. You think he must be on to what you are doing because he squeezes your hand and starts to say something, but quickly cuts himself off. You don't understand why until a few moments later - the curtain closing off your room is pushed aside and Minnie barrels in, closely followed by Foggy.

You barely look at the blonde, instead pulling away from Matt to throw open your arms for your baby. The speed in which she manages to scale Matt and jump to you is impressive and you hug her to you like you're trying to absorb her. Your arm screams at you due to the fact you're trying to bend where your IVs are, but you don't care - and you don't care if your little angel is nearly strangling you with how tight she's hugging you.

“Don't ever get sick again!” She whines into your neck and you nod against her. You'll never get sick again - what you put her through for being sick will forever live in your mind.

“I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry, I didn't know I was sick.”

“It was scary!”

That absolutely breaks your heart and tears start to fall.

“I'm so sorry, Minnie,” you choke out as you try to hold her impossibly closer. The guilt you had regarding money transforms into guilt over being sick at all. How dare you put Minnie through this? You should have realized something was wrong. You repeatedly apologize into her hair, trying to keep yourself from sobbing while she clings to you.

You feel the bed dip and then Matt is pulling you both against his chest and pressing his lips to your crown, “Shhh, it's okay. It's okay.”

You try to shake your head because none of this is okay. You scared and upset your daughter and you've got a stupid ear infection that is going to bankrupt you. Nothing is okay.

“Do you want to show your Mommy what you got her to make her feel better?” Foggy asks Minnie after a minute of you being hysterical and shame courses through you as you are reminded someone else is there, watching you breakdown.

You are such a fucking mess.

However, Minnie pulls away from being squashed between you and Matt and jumps off the bed to go to the blonde. You finally notice, through teary tired eyes, that he has a decently sized gift bag. He sets it down on the ground and Mouse has to pick it up by its sides because it's too tall for her to hold by the handles.

As she tries to figure out how to get back on the bed, you realize Matt is still wrapped around you and you decide you are too tired to fight with your anxiety and guilt any longer. You want his comfort - so you lean more into his arms and he responds by nuzzling you. He begins running his hands over your arms and somehow, it begins to soothe away your upset.

You miss whatever exchange your daughter and Foggy have, but he lifts her up and places her and the gift bag on the bed and she hauls it over to you.

“We got you a present to get better,” she tells you and you know whatever it is, you'll cherish it.

There's no tissue blocking your view and you see something pink and white checkered that looks very soft. Before you can move to pull it out, Matt intervenes. He takes your wrist and gently stretches out your arm that has the IV in it, humming against you, “You have to keep your arm straight.”

You flush at the reminder, feeling like a complete idiot, and use only one hand to pull out the gift.

It is a massive blanket and it is so so soft. You want to bury yourself in it.

“Oh, Mouse, this will make me feel better. Thank you so so much,” you say as you reach out with your good arm to hug her again. She wastes no time tucking herself back between you and Matt.

“Blankies make everything better,” she advises wisely, “Froggy said so.”

You can't help but smile at that and hold your daughter even closer. You turn your attention to Foggy, who has just been an absolute saint for watching over your daughter, “Thank you so much, Foggy. For everything. I can't thank you enough.”

He scoffs and waves his hand, “it is my pleasure. This wasn't my first late night Murdock call, it won't be my last, and she is at least a pleasure to be around at three in the morning.”

You want to ask how they even knew you were sick, but you also don't want to know the details. You can only guess Minnie somehow called Matt and you aren't in a place to hear that conversation. The guilt and emotions would overwhelm you even more than you already are and you are so so tired of crying. So you hug your daughter even closer, so she's in your lap, and mumble another thank you.

Foggy takes a seat in one of the visitor chairs and asks, “has the doctor come yet to talk to you?” You very much appreciate his concern, but most importantly, his tact. You don't feel like he's judging or lying to you. He seems genuinely concerned.

You try to not shake your head at his question, since Matt is still holding you and it would just hurt your head more, and reply “Just the nurse. She said I'm getting discharged.”

The blonde huffs, leaning back in his seat to cross his arms, “Wow, they really do just turn and burn. Last time I was here, they pushed me through, too. American health care, right?” You hum in agreement - the health care system in America is very bad.

Foggy dives into a story about being in the hospital when he was a kid. It quickly catches Minnie’s attention and you realize this may be more for her benefit than anyone else's. You try to listen, but instead find yourself resting your head on Matt's shoulder and closing your eyes again.

You’ll just stay like this, your daughter in your lap and her father holding you against him, until the doctor comes.

If he takes his time getting to you, you don't think anyone is going to complain.

---

It takes another three hours for you to be fully discharged. You have to fill out a mass of paperwork before the doctor even speaks to you, but after he does, no time is wasted to clear you out of the needed exam room.

Any concerns you have about getting home are moot, as Foggy has everything covered. He has borrowed his girlfriend's car and procured a child's seat from his parents - who apparently have multiple due to their ‘hoard of grandchildren’. Minnie doesn't fuss at all, focused on being the best helper she can be by carrying your purse, which had apparently been brought in with you. Matt is insistent on helping you walk, which you are grateful for - standing makes you very dizzy and you have to focus to not stumble.

To your great surprise, Karen is waiting outside your building as Foggy pulls the car up. She's carrying a few shopping bags, and beside her is a grumpy looking man you vaguely recognize holding a very old fashion looking crockpot. It has an orange vintage flower pattern and you kind of want it.

No one says anything as you all climb out of the vehicle. Matt quickly gets himself under your shoulder and his arm around your waist while Minnie latches herself to your hand. You don't know if she thinks she's helping or if she's obeying your rule of hand-holding when outside.

You all awkwardly stand on the sidewalk and you watch as Foggy and the new man have a staring contest. You have no idea what is going on and kind of don't care, as you want to get up to your apartment. After a full minute, Foggy points to the man and declares, “you aren't coming to Thanksgiving,” before marching towards the door to the building. Matt, and thus you, follows after him and as you pass Karen, she snorts with laughter. She and the man fall in line behind you as you make your way to the stairs.

You just know that if you allowed him, Matt would pick you up and carry you up the three flights of stairs, but you refuse to let it happen. You are dizzy and far too warm, but also very stubborn and you determinedly take each step at a time, refusing to stop until you're on your floor. Only then do you resume leaning into his hold.

Foggy unlocks your door then ushers you all inside. Minnie lets go of your hand almost instantly, drops your purse, and runs to the bedroom. You guess she is going to grab Pig and Scooby to update them on everything. You make your way to your couch as Karen sets the groceries on the table and her grumpy friend finds a spot on the counter to plug in the crockpot.

As she unpacks, Karen narrates, “Okay, so I got you all the essentials - Gatorade, tea, saltines, ibuprofen, a compress, and I got you life savers to suck on because that helps when you want something to sweet but don't want to eat anything. I picked up your medicine, it's just ear drops. And of course, the most important thing,” you turn on the couch just in time to see her motion towards your kitchen, “Nelson Family Chicken Soup.”

You stare at the blonde with wide eyes and you feel like you are going to start crying again. No one has ever done this much for you before - not even your ex-boyfriends. Your last one wouldn't even pick up tampons for you, but Karen has clearly gone out of her way and you've only met her a handful of times. You have no idea how to thank her and Foggy for everything they have done for you. You are going to have to bake them a cake or something. As for Matt, you know you are never going to be able to repay him for the comfort and care he has given you in the last few hours.

You are so overwhelmed with love for this little group of friends who are letting you into their life.

“Thank you so much,” you say, meaning it with all of your heart, “you didn't have to do all of that. Thank you.”

Karen gives you a warm smile before waving you off, “Don't mention it. You'd do the same for any of us.”

You happily would and plan to take notes of what Karen bought, just in case. However, the soup is something that confuses you. Did Matt's best friend bring Minnie to his house to cook? You turn to Foggy, who is examining Minnie’s toy chest, and ask, “You made soup?”

The blonde man looks up with a laugh, “God, no, you don't want me cooking. That was all my mom. Her soup is a cure all.”

“It is,” Matt vouches from beside you. “It can cure almost anything. It got rid of my flu last year.”

“It saved countless Christmases,” Foggy adds.

“It also stops cramps,” Karen confirms.

You look to the man in the kitchen for his approval and he just shrugs, “Haven't had it, but it smells good.”

You have to cover your face at that point because it is all too much. Foggy's mother made you soup? How did she even know you were sick? Why did she do this for you - someone she's never met? Someone she has no connection to at all?

An arm wraps around your shoulder and you are pulled to lean against Matt. He nuzzles against you and whispers, “you aren't alone anymore. We're all here for you.”

You hide yourself against him and he starts to rub your back in a comforting manner. This is far too much for you. You don't know how to process all of it.

Luckily, a distraction from your patheticness comes in the form of your daughter.

You hear her come back into the living room and boldly ask the strange man in your kitchen, “Who are you?”

You try to listen since you are curious and you can feel that Matt has turned his head to pay attention to his daughter. You stay tucked against his shoulder, wishing you had your new big blanket to wrap yourself in.

“My name's Frank, what's yours, little lady?” The man says and you try to commit the name to memory. You wonder if he is Karen's boyfriend or something - you don't think he's been mentioned before.

“Minnie!” She declares, then, “This is Pig and Scooby. They like soup, too!” You guess she's held up her toys for him to see. She must be less nervous of the man since he is in your home.

There's a round of chuckles before Frank speaks again, “That right? How about we leave it to your Daddy to get you and your friends some soup and we let your Mommy get some rest?”

There's a few beats of silence before you hear Minnie again, “Okay. Bye-bye, Mister Frank.”

The man barks with laughter, which barely covers the pitter-patter of feet coming towards you, “Daddy, can we have soup for dinner, I'm hungry.”

“Of course, princess, I'll make you a bowl.”

The others must take that as a cue, because when you lift your head up, the three other adults are making their way back to your front door.

Karen lightly calls out your name to get your attention, and when she sees you looking at her, offers a soft smile, “Feel better soon, and let us know if you need anything.”

“Anything at all,” Foggy adds, “I'm more than happy to play babysitter. Parks are my specialty if the squirt needs to get out all that Murdock energy.”

“I'm not a squirt!” Mouse huffs and you can picture her puffing up her cheeks.

“I don't know, kid, you look like a squirt to me,” Frank tells her and she lets out a long ‘nooooo’ in response.

You smile against Matt at the little exchange - you can tell your daughter is extremely fond of Foggy and that makes your heart rest easy. She's never been so vocal around other adults before.

“Thank you, so much. I really, really mean it,” you tell the people who have come to your rescue.

“It is really not a problem, you're family, now,” Foggy tells you before directing himself towards Minnie, “Okay, squirt, can I get a high five?” The sound of a toddler running followed by a slap tells you she just did that. “Good girl! Now, help your Dad take care of your Mom and call me if he gives you any trouble, got it?”

“Got it, Froggy!”

Goodbyes are exchanged then it is just your little family left in your apartment. You finally allow yourself to pull away from Matt.

“You don't need to stay.”

His response is to raise his eyebrows at you, “You think I'm going to leave you alone while you're sick? You need to rest. I’ll take care of everything else. Minnie can finally show me her Scooby movie.”

You want to tell him ‘no’, that you have it handled and he should go get his own rest, but you know it's fruitless. You're learning Matt is committed to his role of being a father and there will be no way to convince him to go. He's a lawyer - he probably already has fifteen arguments ready for why he should stay.

So you give in and give a small nod, “Okay…”

He breaks into a big grin, like he expected you to push back and is happy you didn't, “Good. Are you feeling up to some soup?”

Your stomach turns at the idea of eating anything. You’d been given IV fluids at the hospital and managed a cup of water, but you do not want to eat. There is nothing actually wrong with your stomach - everything is centered on your ear - but that doesn't change the fact you'll probably not be able to keep anything down.

“No,” you tell him after a moment, then add, “I think I'm going to shower and go to bed.”

“Okay,” he hums, reaching up and oh so gently petting your cheek with the back of his fingers and making a shiver run up your spine, “Let me know if you need anything. You don't need to get up, if you just say anything, I'll hear it, okay?”

You don't like the idea of him being able to hear your sick gross body, but there is nothing you can do about it. You slowly push yourself up, careful to not get too dizzy, then start towards your bedroom. Behind you, Matt starts talking about soup and Scooby with Minnie.

Once you are alone in your room with the door closed, you break down. You sit on your bed, hide your face in a pillow, and just let out all of your tears. All your frustration, your shame, your guilt, your confusion, your tiredness, and your pain pours out of you. Your shoulders shake as you bite into the pillow to try and hide your sobs and you pray Matt realizes you need to be alone right now and distracts Minnie. You just need to get all of this out of you.

Your body is so exhausted you can only cry for a few minutes before you are completely drained. You feel slightly better emotionally, but your head is throbbing even more.

You desperately want to get clean and curl up now. You weakly toss your pillow back on the bed and force yourself up to gather something clean to change into. You place the new garments of the dresser, before going to the closet and pulling out a new sheet for your bed. You know you don't have the energy to strip it, but you don't want to sleep on your own filth. So, you push your blanket off, then lay the clean sheet over the dirty one.

Satisfied with your meager attempt, you grab your clothes, open the bedroom door, and shuffle to the bathroom.

You look like absolute shit and don't need your mirror to tell you that, so you try to not look at it. To help, you grab a towel and maneuver it to hang over your medicine box, then strip out of your soiled clothing.

You let your body go on autopilot to start the shower and as you wait for it to heat up, you wash your face and brush your teeth. That alone makes you feel cleaner. You take your hair out of its ponytail - you washed it on Saturday, so you aren't going to rewash it, but you'd like to wet your skull to remove some sweat.

You kick your dirty clothes into a corner, then check the spray. It feels nice and hot, but not scalding, and you step in.

Almost immediately, your vision goes spotty and it feels like your brain is floating in ice water. You have to reach out with both hands and lean on the wall so you don't tumble over and you shuffle to it to press your forehead to the cool tile.

Maybe a shower wasn't such a good idea after all, but you feel so sweaty and sticky and gross. If you just stand and let the water wash over you, maybe it will help and you won't have to let go of the wall. Or you can just sit on the floor, but with how you are feeling that runs the risk of you not being able to get back up.

A knock on the door startles you and you have to push more against the tile to keep yourself upright.

You close your eyes tightly.

You think it must be Minnie. She's come to go potty when you've been in the shower before and you don't think she went before you left the hospital. You take a deep breath and center yourself before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opens and closes and the voice that speaks isn't Minnie.

“Are you okay?”

You shake your head because you are very much not okay in any sense of the word. You don't know how to put that into words or even if you want to. You don't want to go on the emotional rollercoaster again - you're so tired. You just want to get clean and go back to sleep.

You don't mean to space out, but you do. There's just so much going on and your body decides to only focus on remaining upright. So when hands smooth over your waist, you nearly scream. You know it's Matt, but it still scares you.

Why is he in the shower with you?

You try to turn around to question him, but his hands tighten around you, keeping you in place.

“Let me help you.”

The words shake your core. Your heart begins to pound in your chest and you know, if you had any tears left in you, they would be falling. Why is he doing this? Why is he here, asking to help you? Why is he pushing for it?

You feel him step even closer to you and his chest brushes against your back. He breathes your name into your ear, then repeats, “Let me help you, please.”

You try to shake your head and choke out, “You should be with Minnie.” Minnie needs him, she needs his help, not you. He is here to help watch over her, he even said so himself.

His nose bumps against your ear and you feel like your knees are going to give out. Why is he doing this?

“She's trying to give soup to her toys and watching her shows. She doesn't need me right now. You do. Let me help you.”

You push your hands firmer against the tile to keep your balance.

Matt has been with you all day, holding your hand and keeping you upright until you left his arms to go take a shower. You haven't asked this of him - he's been with you of his own free will. He's been so gentle with you, so caring, so comforting.

His hands move from your waist around to your stomach and slowly up to your sternum and very gently pulls you flush against his chest. He feels so firm, so steady, holding you up.

Do you really want to push him away? Do you really want to send him back to watch Minnie?

You can barely keep yourself standing. You're so dizzy. It feels like at any moment your body is going to give out and you'll collapse.

It feels nice to be held.

It feels nice that he is here for you, for whatever motivation he has.

You think of your daughter. How scary this must be for her and how terrifying it would be for her if you fainted in the shower after everything that has happened.

That must be why Matt is here with you. He's far more in tune with your body and you know that means Minnie is too.

He's trying to keep her safe by keeping you safe.

You need to think of Minnie, not yourself.

Matt whispers your name again and you drop your hand from the tile and place it over Matt's.

“Okay…” you whisper. “Okay.”

Lips brush your shoulder and his hands move to be at your ribs and there's a gentle pressure, silently asking you to turn. You take a steadying breath and start to rotate, slow as can be.

You can't look at him in the face. Despite everything, shame burns deep inside of you. You've always been able to do things yourself - you've always had to. Even if it feels good to have the help, to know Matt is going to catch you if you fall, the voice that lives inside you hisses that you're being weak. Pathetic.

You force your eyes open and the first thing you see are the scars going across his chest.

He has been through so much you don't even know about, just like you have been through things you haven't told him about, and to make this work, to make raising your daughter work, you have to trust each other. You have to trust Matt and he needs to trust you.

You slowly reach up and place your hand half over the scar on his right pec, then, to prove to yourself that you mean the beliefs in your head, you lean in and press your lips to the other side of the scar.

He inhales sharply and you feel like, for some reason, you made the right move.

Neither of you move for a minute, then Matt gently presses against you and guides you back into the spray of the shower.

It feels so good against your hot sticky skin and you find yourself letting yourself lean more into Matt and you give in to your desires and let your head fall against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you do.

You feel him reach behind you to the shower caddy and you are happy you have been using bar soap, so you don't have to explain what is what to Matt. He lathers up his hands, then begins to wash you. He starts with your back and you decide to just zone out. You can't debate anymore, you can't let your mind go crazy - you're too tired, too sick to deal with much more.

Matt's hands slowly work over your back and sides. They dip down to your bottom and even though he's touching somewhere intimate, it doesn't feel lewd.

After your back has been washed, he tilts his head just slightly and his nose brushes the shell of your ear and he breathes into it, “turn around so I can get your front.”

It takes a few moments, but you do as you are told, and then you are leaning back against Matt's chest, head once again resting on his shoulder, just the opposite one this time. Your nose is a hair's breadth away from his jaw.

He relathers his hands, then starts on your stomach. He's so methodical about it and it feels almost hedonistic. You're not going to deny it feels good, but you know it's not in any way sexual or wanting. You just haven't been touched in so long, so anything will feel good.

He avoids your nipples when he runs his hands over and under your breasts and he doesn't linger, moving up to your shoulders, then down your arms. When he gets to your hands, he laces your fingers together.

“Do you want your hair done?” He quietly asks and you just barely shake your head.

“Just want to get it wet,” you mumble into his throat.

He hums in response and squeezes your hands, “‘m gonna need to turn you around again to do that and to get your legs.”

He keeps your hands in his and, to your great surprise, turns you slowly around like you are dancing, one arm over your head and another around your back. When you're facing the right way again, you open your eyes to see Matt smiling at you with the softest look.

In your chest, your heart clenches.

No one has ever looked at you like that before. No one. No one has ever treated you the way he has.

You don't think you care if it is because you are the mother of his child. Matt is a truly good and loving person and you want to bask in it, at least for now.

You let go of one of his hands and cup his jaw. He presses into it, closing his eyes and it's like you can feel any tension he might have in him melt away. You stay like that for a few seconds before he turns his head just slightly to nuzzle into your palm, then he lets go of you to drag his fingers through your hair. He makes sure to get your roots wet, but doesn't soak your hair. His nails dig slightly into your scalp and you try to not moan at how nice it feels.

“Hold onto my shoulders,” he directs you and you do as you are told. Only when you have a secure hold on him does he kneel down and begin to run his hands over your legs. He starts high on one thigh and works his way down to your foot, then repeats the process on the opposite leg.

You can't help but look down at him, watching as he delicately washes you. There's this deep urge in your belly, right above your core, to tangle your hands into his hair. A memory from your night together, all those years ago, flashes through your mind.

He had backed you against a wall and gotten on his knees to push your dress up and your panties down. Your thigh had been draped over his shoulder and he had eaten you out like a starving man before taking you to bed and making you cum two more times on his tongue.

You quickly banish the thoughts because not only do you know it's not the time for that, but that it was a one night stand between strangers. You don't want to make things any more awkward by Matt realizing he's having such an effect on your body, even if you don't intend for it.

You tell yourself to think of the pajamas you've picked out to wear instead - a nice, soft, baggy shirt and your favorite biker shorts. You picture the amazing blanket your daughter got you and how nice it will be to curl up in it and sleep.

You want that more than anything right now. You want to just sleep.

You focus on that until Matt is back in front of you and turning off the water.

“All done,” he whispers and you repeat the words back to him.

He helps you out of the shower and gets you wrapped in a towel before starting to dry himself off. You don't allow yourself to admire his body and focus on getting the water droplets off of your body and out of your hair.

Once you are no longer dripping, you bundle your hair back into a ponytail and pull on your clean clothes.

The little change makes you feel so much better. You always forget how just being clean can change your mood so drastically.

“Thank you,” you whisper once you are dressed. “Thank you so much, Matt.”

You turn to finally look at him, and he has redressed in just his boxers and oversized sweater. He steps towards you and cups your jaw, smoothing his thumb over your cheeks, “You don't have to thank me. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you. You just have to let me in, okay? Please let me in.”

You close your eyes at his words and nod.

You can't promise you will let him in fully, but after everything he's shown you in such a short time, you think you can try. You can try to let Matt in.

“Okay.”

He lets you go with a small, sweet, and soft smile then cocks his head slightly to the right, “Let's get you to bed, I think someone has decided they want to join you for a nap.”

Joy swells in your heart and belly at the idea of cuddling with your daughter. You want to wrap her up and hold her and let her feel loved and protected. You know now how nice it is and words tumble from your lips without you meaning them to, “you should come too.”

His eyes go wide at the offer before that small sweet smile morphs into a boyish grin, “I would like that. I would like that a lot.”

a/n: Matt would not stop smooching. I could not hold him back from smooching.

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

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celestie0 · 4 months

Text

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.2 terms and conditions

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 2/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 4.5k

a/n. if you see any typos, no you don't.

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

“And yeah, that’s basically what I’ll ask from him in return,” you say through a mouthful of your cereal in the morning after summarizing the conversation you had with your school’s star soccer player on Instagram last night.

Mina scrolled through the messages as she took another bite of her apple and gave you a questioning look as she set your phone down. “I’m still shocked at the fact that Gojo Satoru, the Gojo Satoru, sent you a message. Also, why does he want to help his horny friend this badly?”

“I don’t know. But will you do it?” You ask her with pleading eyes. “Just one weekend, that’s all it seems like he’s asking for. And then I’ll get what I want from him. You just have to pretend to be interested in his friend for a little bit.”

Mina leans back on the bar stool at the little raised counter in the kitchen. You liked it because it was a little bar space that opened up to the living room, being partially the reason why you convinced her to sign this lease with you. She swallowed before speaking. “I mean, the only reason I didn’t really like his friend that much was because he kept asking me out to a house party instead of an actual date.”

“Yeah, I know, I figured,” you say.

“Also, an 8AM English class is the absolute worst time to hit on someone.” She smiles at you. “But his friend isn’t bad looking. Not exactly my type, maybe a bit too beefy and masculine for me? I don’t know.” She pauses to take another bite of her apple, this time talking through her chewing. “I would say Gojo is more my type.”

He’s probably everyone’s type, you think to yourself.

“Anyways, yeah, I’ll do it,” she easily agrees.

“You will?” You gleam at her, your hands clapping together in happiness.

“Yeah, I will. If you think it’ll help you get what you want from him, then I’ll do it,” she smiles at you.

You run over to her, arms curling around her from behind as you say thank you, thank you, thank you and she pats at your forearm for you to ease up on your excessive gratefulness.

-------

The weekend rolls around surprisingly fast and the hour that the party’s doors open is steadily approaching. Mina just came home from her work shift and was in the bathroom taking a shower while you sifted through your closet to figure out what to wear. You couldn’t believe you were actually going to an SAE house party. You’ve been to other college parties before, mostly in your first year, but never a fraternity’s, let alone the biggest one on your college campus. Was there some sort of waiting list? Some sort of etiquette that you didn’t know of? Your stomach flips at the prospect.

Your hands pull out a simple black dress that was tucked all the way to the right of your closet. It was a tiny bit wrinkled but it would do. Slipping on the dress, you turned to glance at yourself in the mirror. It had long, skin tight sleeves with a sweetheart neckline and the hem fell to the middle of your thighs, the material soft and silky. You suddenly felt a bit self conscious and ended up taking it off in favor of some ripped blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt instead.

Mina opened the door of the bathroom and stepped into your shared room, wrapped in a towel with her hair clipped up on her head. “Cute fit,” she compliments you as she also makes her way to her closet. “Ugh, I just want to go to bed. Why am I doing this again?”

“Because you love me,” you say.

“Yes, that’s why,” she sighs. She puts on a purple body-con dress that had beautiful sparkles on it, probably more fitting for the club than a house party, but who knows, maybe that ends up being the vibe of the place.

You both sit on the floor in front of the mirror to do makeup, you finishing first since you wore a little less than her, and you help her draw the wings of her eyeliner. This sort of ritual was always the best before you went out with friends. The getting ready part was almost more fun than the actual going out part.

A small fight took place between the two of you in terms of who would be designated driver, and Mina finally relents to allowing you to drive. You argued with her that she was doing you a favor, and that if Mina decides she needed some drinks during the night to take the edge off of having to talk to this Gojo Satoru friend, then she should be allowed to do that. Mina grabbed her purse and you grabbed your cross-body fanny pack as well as keys, and you were headed out the door.

As you drove down the street approaching the address, you both noticed a lot of the houses looked very similar with decorative sports flags, gaudy front-lawn decorations, and outside furniture. This was most likely the fraternity house strip of SAE where most of the guys lived and hosted parties. There were living places on campus for the members too, but those were usually for the people that organized the fraternity’s events. Loud approaching bass-boosted music filled the air and it suddenly became challenging navigating through all of the parked cars on the street as the GPS informed you that you were less than 500 feet from your location on the left. You luckily found a spot to park at the cul de sac a little further ahead and then you two were making your way to the house.

“4100, right?” Mina called after you as she shuffled a bit in her heels to catch up, arms crossing over her chest to warm herself up in the cold. You slowed down a bit for her.

“Yeah, this one I guess,” you point up ahead where you spot a group of people approaching the entrance where a guy seemed to be collecting payments. You notice him turn some people away from the door, confirming that there was some sort of screening process for entry, and you’re suddenly a bit anxious.

“Alright, y’all are good to go inside,” the guy at the door chirps to what’s left of the group that lined up before you two. He makes eye contact with you and Mina, straightening himself up a bit. “Ladies! Looking very gorgeous. I like the sort of casual tomboy with the bombshell friend pairing. Can’t say I’ve seen you two around here. Ever been to an SAE party before?”

“Nah, first time,” Mina says as she shivers from the cold.

“Aight, cool, you’ll definitely enjoy it. Ladies enter for free, so go on ahead,” he says, comically gesturing towards the door with both of his arms before he crosses them again and puffs out his chest. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. He has a little name tag that says Itadori Yuuji on it, which you’re almost certain no one even asked him to wear.

As you two make your way inside, you’re instantly reminded of why you hated places like this. Loud music reverberates throughout the entire room as people bustle around everywhere, some people dancing, some people standing, some people walking over to other areas, and a lot of people shamelessly making out. There was a lot more lighting than you were expecting, that sort of warm and dull suburban house lighting that reminds you of your childhood for some reason, but there were flashing lights across the ceiling that gave it more of a party feel. The house was two stories, and the staircase was visible from the entrance, leading up to a hallway at the top with a railing that oversaw the downstairs expanse before stretching out further into unseen territory where you assumed the bedrooms were. Your eyes instantly began scanning the room for any familiar faces, or for one Gojo Satoru.

“Damn, just the smell of the alcohol alone has me about ready to throw up,” Mina says next to you as she takes a few steps further into the house. You follow behind her as she makes her way into what looks like the kitchen where there’s less people other than those refilling their drinks. She’s quick to pour some vodka into a plastic red solo cup before nonchalantly opening the fridge and pouring some orange juice into it as well. She glances up at you. “Don’t judge me.” You stifle a laugh.

“Oh shit, sorry man,” a masculine voice behind you says and when you turn around, you’re face to face with quite possibly the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life.

In all his glory, Gojo Satoru was standing in front of you. Just as the prophecy foretold, he was tall, at least an entire head above you, and irritatingly gorgeous. He was wearing gray sweatpants, untied drawstrings loosely hanging, with a black short-sleeved shirt that was tight around his biceps and lazily tucked into his waistband just at the front. He was holding two drinks in his hands, one clearly with some spillage as droplets fell from the base of it onto the tile of the kitchen, and his piercing blue eyes behind his tacky HO-HO party glasses widened at the sight of you. The guy behind him, who you assumed was the one he was apologizing to just a second ago, gave him a solid slap on the back and muttered a you’re good, dude before turning the corner back into the core of the party, leaving the three of you alone in the kitchen.

You heard Mina cough a little behind you and you watched as Gojo’s eyes quickly darted to her.

“No way,” you hear Gojo mutter under his breath as he walks past you and makes his way around the kitchen island, setting the drinks in his hand down on the counter. “You’re Mina, right? I’m Gojo Satoru,” he says as if not everyone on campus knows who he is, and sticks his hand out for her to shake and she hesitantly shakes it. “Thanks for coming.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Mina said, shooting you a glance.

He then turns around and makes his way to you again, hand outstretched for you to shake, and you hesitantly do so as well. You immediately notice how the tips of his fingers feel calloused. “Hey, I’m Gojo Satoru. You’re y/n, right?”

You nodded, for some reason unable to find your voice, and he peers over the ‘O’s on his glasses to look at you. His eyes were like the sparkling ocean under the sun, a tantalizing shade that sailors probably yearned for during long nights out at sea before they went overboard, chasing after sirens, and eventually drowning. Yikes, that got dark for some reason. But there was something dark about his eyes, too. “Yeah.”

He leans down closer to you, his mouth near your ear, and the fragrance of freshly-washed laundry consumes you. “Thanks, I owe you one. Find me later, ‘kay?” he whispers and you can feel his breath on your neck. The movement has your cheeks embarrassingly burning before he’s pulling away from you. He turns to Mina again. “You’ve met my friend Todo, right? He’s about sixty ounces deep into an insane round of beer pong, you wanna watch?” Gojo asks her with a weirdly wholesome smile on his face.

“How charming…” Mina says as she reluctantly walks over to him, giving you a darting look, and then he’s leading her out into the living room. You stand there in the kitchen, leaning against the island, finally noticing how fast your heart was beating.

I mean, you knew he would be handsome. You saw all his Instagram pictures, and all the school advertising for the soccer team with his face all over it plastered practically around every corner on campus, but this was your first time seeing him in person and you hated how breathtaking he was. Like, how can people just casually be in his presence? You figured the only way was that they eventually get used to the way he just commands a room when he walks in. You wonder if you’ll ever feel relaxed in his vicinity. Part of you wishes you didn’t fight Mina so hard to be designated driver because now you were itching for a drink to calm your nerves.

As a group of girls make their way into the kitchen, giggling about something some guy had said to one of them, you suddenly feel a little alone and make your way out into the living room as well. Your hands play with the strap of the fanny pack slung across your chest and just people-watch for a bit. Spotting the game of beer pong over in the corner, you see Mina watching with a bored expression and you let out a small laugh. The man at the end of the table had a ping pong ball in his hand, and you immediately identified him as this Todo guy. Mina’s description was pretty spot on, definitely beefy and masculine, and he was the only one in that corner that had his shirt off for some reason.

He aimed for the opposing side’s remaining two cups of beer, the ball looking comically tiny in his large hand, and when he threw it the ball landed right in one of the cups. A look of excitement flashed across his face before a bunch of the guys started smacking his chest, yelling something like “has to be a bounce shot, dude” and he suddenly looked agitated all over again. A small smile makes its way on Mina’s face and you’re surprised to see it.

Standing next to her was Gojo, tall and his presence imposing, as he silently watched the rowdy game with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and back leaned against the wall. There was a curious expression on his face and you tilted your head to the side, enjoying the moment to just study him for a little bit.

“I like your fanny pack,” you hear a voice say from behind you that has you twirling around. You look up and find yourself staring at yet another handsome man. This one had dark black hair that was tied up into a man bun with some short tendrils of hair falling onto one side of his forehead.

“Oh, thanks,” you say awkwardly.

“Where are my manners? I’m Geto Suguru, nice to meet you,” he says as he stretches the hand that was not occupied by his drink out to you.

You shook his hand, noticing calluses on his fingers too. “Nice to meet you, too. I’m y/n. What’s with everyone here and shaking hands? I feel like I’m at a job interview.”

The man in front of you chuckles. “You’re funny,” he says. “Haven’t seen you around here. Which sorority are you in?”

“Oh, uh, I’m not in one. I live with my friend Mina about 20 minutes from campus,” you awkwardly say.

A slightly surprised expression flashes across his face as he nods slowly and you can see it in his face that he’s searching his brain for a follow-up question when someone behind him taps his shoulder.

“Hey, Suguru, do you know what time practice is tomorrow? Itadori-kun swears it’s at three, but I have a meeting at that time, so if that’s true then I’m screwed,” the guy behind Geto says. Sigh. Once again handsome. He was tall, had broad shoulders, and cleanly styled blonde hair with a sharp jaw that made him look like he just stepped out of a James Bond movie.

“Pretty sure it’s at six. I’d check with Satoru, though,” he jutted his chin over in the direction of the beer pong table. “Oh, this is y/n by the way. She’s not in a sorority, but she lives 10 minutes away from campus.” Geto steps to the side a little and the blonde stranger steps into his space.

“20 minutes,” you correct him and this time, you’re the one to stretch your hand out. The man in front of you shakes it, and once again you notice calluses. This must have to do with soccer, then. His handshake was firm, short, and intentional, and you could tell he was probably studying a respectable major.

“I’m Nanami Kento, but just call me Kento,” he says in a smooth voice. “Excuse me,” he says and he’s making his way past you over to the beer pong table.

Geto’s glance falls on you again, but suddenly feeling awkward you excuse yourself from him to go use the restroom. You haven’t had this much social interaction in a long time and you needed to get away from the noise for a second. As you make your way past the kitchen into a narrow hallway, you realize you have no idea where the restroom is. One of the door handles has a sock on it, gross, so you ignore it all together. You finally reach a door that could potentially be a restroom, and you’re overjoyed that you don’t hear any voices inside when you knock on it. You allow yourself inside and close the door behind you.

The bathroom was surprisingly well-kept from what you expect of a frat house. There’s about three different toothbrushes in a round plastic tin on the counter of the sink, but you’re sure that there’s more than three guys that live here so there must be another bathroom upstairs too. Glancing at your reflection, you notice that some of your mascara has smudged a little so you use your finger to wipe the excess off and then you reapply a thin layer of lip balm over your lips. You contemplate actually taking a piss, but you realize you don’t really need to. With a few deep breaths, you’re out into the hallway and almost make it back into the kitchen before bumping into a certain white-haired man at the kitchen entrance.

“Oh, hey, fancy seeing you here again,” Gojo says with a grin and your eye twitches slightly. He was still wearing those HO-HO glasses (Christmas was literally over three months ago) and this time there were some sort of black painted lines underneath both of his eyes. He was extremely hot but definitely somewhat unserious about his appearance.

Gojo glances down at your empty hands and tips his head to the side a little. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Uhh, water?” You offer.

He lets out a laugh, his hand flying to his stomach, and you realize he thinks you're joking. When your expression doesn’t budge, his smile drops. “Seriously?”

“I’m DD for Mina,” you say as you walk around him and make it into the kitchen where you find a pitcher of water. Your heart still races a bit at the sight of Gojo, but you enjoy the peace and quiet that the kitchen provides you away from the party around the corner.

“So, y/n,” you hear Gojo say behind you. You’re not quite used to hearing your name casually roll off his tongue. He’s suddenly at your side, leaning back against the edge of the island and crossing his arms as he looks down at you to watch you pour your water. It takes everything in you to not glance over at how nice the muscles of his arms probably look across his chest. “What exactly are those terms and conditions you spoke of?”

Your face flushes slightly. You remind yourself that this is the man that you were Instagram DMing at two in the morning earlier this week. It feels weird, considering at the time he seemed more like a made-up character in your mind but now that you’ve actually met him, you realize that he is indeed a living, breathing, real person. When you take a sip of your water, you realize just how parched you really are.

“Okay, hold on a sec, there’s no way you’re just drinking water all night long. There’s some non-alcoholic punch in the other room. Be right back,” he says and he’s gone from your side. You miss the heat from his body.

He returns shortly after with a cup of punch in his hands and slides it to you across the counter. You grip onto it and stare into the deep red liquid.

“Okay, so,” he says as he leans back against the counter again, this time a bit closer so his arm was brushing against your shoulder. Your skin burns at the contact. “Your terms and conditions?”

You found it a bit odd that he was so adamant to satisfy these conditions of yours, considering he already won. You had successfully brought Mina to the party, and it seemed like she was getting along with his friend Todo. It shouldn’t really matter what you wanted from him anymore. You suppose that maybe he was just a man of his word.

You sigh, remaining facing the counter of the island as you glance at all the types of alcoholic bottles and cans laid out on it. “Well, my request is pretty simple.”

“Hmm,” you hear him hum inquisitively beside you.

You finally turn to face him and you instinctively put a hand over your heart as though to reprimand it to stop beating so fast in his presence. He notices the movement. “I want you to get me onto the soccer field at a few of your practices or games so I can take film photos of the players.”

Gojo takes his HO-HO glasses off and sets them down on the counter, a serious expression on his face. You notice how nice his eyelashes are.

“Your terms and conditions are…that you want me to help you take photos of a bunch of sweaty dudes?” he asks. “You’re kinda freaky.”

You roll your eyes and send him an annoyed look. “They’re not for me, they’re for one of my class assignments. I’m taking this film photography class, and my professor is obsessed with the school’s soccer team. Pretty much all of his lectures start with goal-by-goal breakdowns of your guys’ most recent game. If I submit some stellar-looking film photos of the action on the field, he’d give me a good grade and a good letter of recommendation.” You notice Gojo tense up slightly in front of you. “I’m trying to get into this one graduate program.”

You watch his chest rise and fall with a deep breath as he turns his head to look away from you and instead look straight ahead at the fridge. Long lashes flutter against the top of his cheeks every time he blinks. His arms that were crossed at his chest rise a little as he shrugs. “Yeah, I guess I can do that for you.”

You can’t control the smile that spreads across your face when he acquiesces. This was a really good opportunity for you. You pick up the punch that he gave you and almost bring it to your lips when he speaks again, interrupting the motion.

“Your pictures are pretty good, by the way,” he says, still staring straight forward at the fridge.

Your mouth gapes slightly. “How have you seen my photos?”

He looks down at you, an eyebrow raised. “I follow you on Instagram, dummy. Also, you never followed me back.”

You’re standing there a little stunned at the conversation. He speaks to you so casually as if you haven’t just met him tonight. “Sorry, I only really follow back my friends…”

“Are we not friends?” It’s your turn to let out a laugh, thinking he’s joking, only to realize he’s not.

“I’ve literally just met you…speaking of, I should probably pour my own drink,” you say as you slide the punch back onto the counter top over to him and turn away to head in the direction he had gone to retrieve it for you. You hear him mutter an ouch from behind you at the implied accusation you just made but you remind yourself that this man is essentially a stranger to you, and the only things you know about him are things you’ve heard from other strangers.

You spot Mina still by the beer pong table, this time heavily invested in the game and she even flirtatiously blows on Todo’s ping pong ball for good luck before he chucks it at the opposing teams’ cups, entirely missing, but Mina reaches up to place a kiss on his cheek regardless. Your jaw drops at the sight. She was going to be answering a lot of your questions in the morning.

You find the punch table, pour yourself some, and realize that it was indeed non-alcoholic and pretty damn good. Mina finally makes eye contact with you from across the room and she leaves the table to make her way to you.

“Y/n! OMG, I was lookin’ for you, girl!” She sounded a bit tipsy. “What time is it? I totally forgot I have a stupid discussion post thingy due at midnight.”

You pull your phone out of your fanny pack and read the time that says 11:12PM. It was still a bit early to leave a party, but you supposed it was up to Mina. “It’s 11:12PM. There’s no traffic so it would probably just take us around 10-15 minutes to get home. You wanna leave?”

She sighs and turns around to look at Todo, who was giving her a sleazy look and mouthing what’s wrong, babe? Mina shakes her head at him pitifully and then turns her head back to you with sulking shoulders. “Yeah…stupid professor making those posts 25% of our entire grade…”

You laughed and made sure she grabbed her purse before you two headed towards the exit. You bumped into Geto again on your way out and gave him a polite goodbye and then you two were out of the door, loud party noises getting further and further as you made it to the car. Mina trailed a bit behind you but eventually made it over to the passenger side door. You unlocked the car and she made it inside, but before you do the same, your phone pings with a notification from Instagram.

|| 11:16PM Gojo Satoru: I’ll let you know our practice and game schedule for the next week. Just let me know what times you’re interested in stopping by

A small twinge of excitement fills your chest and you’re suddenly feeling some sort of high as you slide into the driver’s seat of the car. Mina’s mumbling something like turn on the heateeerrr beside you, and you put the car in drive then take the two of you home.

a/n. apologies for any formatting errors since i'm copy/pastin from my ao3! i've tried to manually fix them all but i'm too lazy to read the whole thing to fix it lol. hope you enjoyed!

➸ take me to chapter three!

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lowkeyerror · 23 days

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The Family Business Ch.12

WandaNat x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Ch. Notes: It's a converstion so dialouge heavy, non-sexual nudity

Summary: Natasha and Wanda reveal their feelings.

An: Ok... ok late again, but tell me it's not worth the wait. (Please don't) Hopefully you love it because it's 2:25am but I'm still doing this for yall and yes if everything goes right new ch. on Monday

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wanda couldn’t look at you when she was speaking. You could see she was trying to find the words, but you didn’t know how to help her.

Natasha knowing what her wife is trying to say tries to take over.

“ Before I met you I was a little jealous. Seeing the love of my life light up talking about someone who was quite literally thousands of miles away, was a hard pill to swallow. I haven’t known you as long as Wanda, but I can see now why she had always spoken so highly of you.”

You want to interrupt the red head and say anything back to her, but you don’t. They had said they wanted to tell you everything before you spoke so you intended to let them.

“When Papa sent me away, I resented him for it. It was a great opportunity and a show of good faith, but I was angry with him because I didn’t want to leave you here. I thought we had grown quite close, little krolik. You were the best part of all my days. So much so that even thousands of miles away I couldn’t shut up about you. Even after I fell in love, you’d always find a way into my mind,” Wanda plays with her wedding ring as she speaks.

You look between the two woman silently urging them to continue.

“I’ve been many places, lived many lives, and have met many people, but I've never met anyone like you. There’s this light inside you that you keep so close to your chest. I can feel it behind all the walls you put up. I see it in how intensely you care about your family and I admire it. I admire you,” Natasha isn’t scared to take your hand in hers.

Wanda continues, “It’s hard not to admire you. If Natasha has seen it in these few months, it’s safe to say I’ve always seen it. I saw it before you put all these walls up, when you let it be known to everyone. I think that’s what startled me so much when I came home. I felt like a soldier come home from war to see his home was no longer his.”

The woman begins to get emotional. You reach out your other hand for her to take, not knowing what else to do.

“When I saw Wanda interact with you for the first time, I felt something. It wasn’t jealousy or hatred or anything like that. It was this overwhelming warmth. Seeing her hold you as if you’d disappear, seeing her smile as big as our wedding day, it made me happy,” Natasha recounts.

Wanda sighs, “When we were in my old room at the dinner I was terrified. I thought you were going to tell me the same thing everyone else had when it came to you, but you didn’t. You held me, dried my tears, and I think things really started to fall into place for me then.”

“I met Wanda when she was technically on a job. She was leading and in charge of operations. I had seen her get angry or upset on multiple occasions, but I don’t know if I ever saw her as mad as that night. I could almost see the steam coming out of her ears when she had Pietro against the wall. As far as I knew, I was the only one who could calm her down, but then you did it like it was second nature.”

You speak quietly, “She’s always had a temper.”

You think the woman will roll her eyes, but she doesn’t, “I have and you have always been there to calm me down. I don’t know how to say this, Y/n. When I met you, you were just my little brother’s best friend, but then you became my friend and then a part of my family. You were so delicate back then, you weren’t even 18 for Christ sake.”

Natasha tries to help her wife find her bearings, “But by the time she left you were 22 and you had grown into a young woman.”

Wanda shakes her head a bit, “You had done a lot of growing, that I didn't want to see, that I was trying to ignore because I didn’t want you to think that I had intentions of taking advantage of you. I felt like at the time I was too old, you were too young, and we were too close.”

You look at her with confusion on your face. There’s only one thing that she could be talking about in your mind, but this can’t be happening.

“What are you saying Wanda?”

For the first time in the conversation her eyes meet yours. You see the fear in them, the uncertainty, the desperation. Her hand let’s go of yours and finds itself on her bouncing knee.

“I don't want to ruin this and I'm so scared of losing you, but if you would’ve died in that alley not knowing that I’m in love with you it would’ve destroyed me.”

You feel your heart beating against your chest. Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to find your voice. You find yourself stuttering for the first time in years, “Y-you w-what?”

Wanda stands abruptly trying to run from the conversation. This makes you panic and try to stand as well. However, you forget about your ankle and yelp at the weight you put on it.

Wanda’s arms are quick to steady you before you do anymore damage to yourself. She’s close to you and you swear you can hear her heartbeat.

“D-did you s-ay-” you give up frustrated with your reappearing stutter.

Wanda’s grip on you tightens slightly, “I’m in love with you.”

“Wanda I- you’re married,” you look back at Natasha only to find her staring at you.

She stands from her place on the couch, and closes the gap between the two of you.

“I have my own feelings for you Y/n,” Natasha is confident as she speaks.

Her assertion makes you turn red, “Y-you also?”

Natasha smiles sweetly, “Maybe not love just yet, but I could see myself falling for you.”

This situation was short-circuiting your brain, it felt like you were dreaming. This couldn’t be real. As you stood between the two woman it felt like less of a dream.

“I loved you before they sent you away,” you blurt out to your friend’s sister.

Once you start it’s like the words just pour out of your mouth, “You were way out of my league. You’re still out of my league, I mean does it get more taboo than falling for your best friend’s older sister. You’re just so easy to love, but I never thought I had a chance and then you came back with a wife; a very beautiful, very intelligent, ex-Russian spy of a wife, and I just knew I didn’t have a chance.”

“The chance is now. Admittedly, we don’t know how something like this works, but I think we can figure it out together,” Wanda levels with you.

“If you're interested,” Natasha adds on, leaving the ball in your court.

“It would’ve been nice if you guys had told me before I got a cut on my lip. I could’ve done the whole dramatic kiss to cut you off,” you tease them.

Wanda rolls her eyes, “If I could shove you and you wouldn’t fall over, I would.”

“You talk to every woman you’re in love with like that?”

Natasha chimes in, “You get used to it after awhile.”

You share a laugh and when it dies down Wanda speaks, “So we’re doing this?”

“I want to try, but I don’t want to ruin your marriage,” you speak honestly.

“You won’t,” Natasha declares with certainty.

“How do you know?”

She thinks for a moment, “The love Wanda and I have for each other is endless, I’ve never for a moment thought anything could break it up. We’re not changing the way we love each other, we’re just adding you into the already existing dynamic. Eventually it should end with the three of us loving each other endlessly. Does that make sense?”

You nod slowly, “It sounds perfect.”

Natasha places a kiss on your cheek like it’s second nature to her, “Good.”

Your ears heat at the contact and before you can respond Wanda places a light kiss at the corner of your lips.

The movement leaves you wanting more. Against better judgement you try to lean down and kiss her. You succeed in placing your lips against hers for a brief second but as you pull away you almost fall again.

Natasha is the one to steady you this time. She teases you, “Someone is eager?”

“My ankle doesn’t want me to be great.” you pout.

Natasha hesitates, but delicately she touches her lips to yours. It’s as quick as your attempt at kissing Wanda.

“Your ankle won’t stop us, bunny,” Wanda looks at you with shining eyes.

Your face heats at the nickname that’s only familiar to you in the woman’s native language. The women chuckle at the pigment of your skin.

“We’ll see who’s laughing when my lips don’t hurt and I can kiss you properly,” you try once again standing on your own.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Wanda lets her eyes fall to your lips.

You roll your eyes, “Stop teasing, and help me get ready for bed. This has simultaneously been one of the best and one of the most painful days of my life. Truly unforgettable.”

Natasha speaks first, “I’ll get some stuff ready for a shower.”

“I’ll help you to the bathroom,” Wanda finishes.

It’s an all too similar feeling as you find yourself perched on the bathroom counter with Wanda standing between your legs.

Her fingers play with the end of your shirt. She looks at you for permission and you give her a light nod.

Slowly as to not aggravate your injuries she takes your shirt off. She’s careful as she unwraps the bandages from your torso.

“You’ll need help in there,” she speaks softly as her eyes scan your body.

“I know,” the pain starts to catch up with you.

Leaning forward slightly you rest your head on her shoulder. She smells good and it calms your nerves.

Wanda can’t help herself as she speaks up, “Isn’t this a familiar scene?”

You raise your head off of her shoulder and smile, “It’s ringing a few bells.”

Natasha enters the restroom with some towels and pajamas, “I’m going to get some food going, if you guys are alright in here?”

Wanda nods, “I’ve got her, Nat.”

Natasha nods and proceeds to exit the bathroom, “Just holler if you need me.”

Wanda steps away from you to turn the shower on. She’s back in front of you in no time.

“How do you want to do this?”

You feel nerves as you speak, but you try to sound objective, “I think you should join me. Not because I want to see you, not that I don’t want to see you. Its just I can’t really stand and-”

She quiets you down by pulling her own shirt over her head. Her feet pad against the bathroom floor as she makes her way back over to you. Wanda’s hands place themselves on the top of your pants. Her movements are slow but sure as she begins to pull them down. She takes extra care when they're around your ankle.

Once they’re off she takes a step back swiftly removing her own pants. The only thing left on both of you is your underwear.

The sound of the shower rings heavily in your ears as you watch Wanda take her bra off. You can’t move even if you want to. Your eyes glance over her chest before following her hands path lower. She’s not teasing as she removes her panties.

Once again you find yourself with her standing between your legs, but this time there was significantly less fabric in the way. She reaches behind you back to place her hands on your bra clasp.

“Y/n, do you mind if-"

“Take it off,” you finish for her.

She does as you say, a shaky breath releases from her. Your bra falls off your shoulder, but you keep looking in her eyes. Her hand slides down from your back and her finger hooks around your underwear.

“Take it off,” you repeat in a hushed tone.

She follows your instructions. Her eyes snap back to yours. The two of you stare in silence. There’s an underlying tenderness to the moment.

Wanda’s hand reach for your waist, “Ready?”

You nod and she assists you off of the counter. The water hits your skin and you sigh. You enjoy the heat against your bruised skin. Wanda’s hands stay in place for a moment just keeping you steady.

It's a silent delicacy as Wanda soaps up a towel and begins to gently clean your skin. You marvel at the lightness of her touch.

She turns you around so you face her. You look down at her and can’t help but brush your nose against hers. You hear her breath hitch. Carefully you use your hand to guide her’s across your body.

Neither of you dwell as she cleans every inch of you intimately. You lean against the shower wall a bit so Wanda has room to wash herself. You take in the details of her body as she cleans herself.

She gets out first and then helps you put the pajamas laid out for you on before dressing herself.

“I love you,” you say it easily when everything is done.

Wanda places a kiss on your forehead, “I love you too.”

Wanda helps you to the kitchen table. Your eyes find Natasha moving about in the kitchen.

“Almost done, I know you’re tired lisichka. We can eat then get in the bed,” Natasha speaks to you.

“Thanks Natty,” you look at her with your hand on your chin.

“Did you re-wrap her torso detka?” Natasha asks her wife.

Wanda snaps her fingers, “I knew I forgot something.”

“Take over here, and I’ll do it?”

Wanda agrees to these terms. Natasha goes to fetch the medical wrap and quickly returns. You’re sitting down, so Natasha kneels to be level with your torso.

Carefully with tentative hands, she lifts up your shirt. Her hand finds the small of your back, to encourage you to sit straight. You follow her instructions.

“Tell me if it’s too tight, okay?”

You’re looking down into her eyes and you momentarily get lost in them. The hues of green draw you in like emeralds.

“Baby,” she says again a little more firm.

You snap out of it and nod, “I’ll tell you if it’s too tight.”

She brings the wrap around your torso multiple times, each time looking for any extensive discomfort in your expression.

When she’s done with your torso, she quickly does your ankle. Your ankle was more sensitive, so she made sure to be extra gentle.

“All set, lisichka,” the woman places a kiss on your forehead as she stands up.

“Food is ready,” Wanda announces bringing plates for the three of you to table.

At this point exhaustion was knocking at your door. You eat in comfortable silence and once you’re finished, they help you to bed.

When your head hits the pillow, you almost fall asleep instantly.

“If I didn’t want to kill him for what he did to my father, I’d kill him for this,” Wanda says to her wife.

“The men involved have been dealt with already,” Natasha relies to her Wanda.

“You work fast malyshka,” Wanda places her hands on Natasha’s hips.

Natasha looks at your sleeping figure, “I’d move at the speed of light for either of you.”

Natasha ends her statement by kissing Wanda.

“I love you,” Wanda pulls the woman closer to her.

Natasha smiles pecking the woman’s lips once more, “I love you too.”

The two of them climb into the bed, making sure to give you adequate space due to your injuries.

“Why does this already feel so natural?” Wanda questions.

Natasha answers instantly, “It’s just meant to be like this. This feels like the final piece to our little puzzle."

Wanda was more than content with that answer, closing her eyes, unable to fight rest.

Somewhat like before, but entirely different at the same time, the three women lay together.

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#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #the family business

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empresskylo · 6 months

Text

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 13 ⬅ch.12

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | nsfw. lil bit of 'dark' simon. wc 7.4k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | here we fucking go

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

you tried your hardest to repress all of simon’s words to you from last night. the way he stopped you in the hallway, heightening all of your senses, dead set on telling you things he probably hadn’t told anyone in a long time… it was dangerous. it was leading you to believe he actually cared about you. that maybe this thing you fabricated between the two of you wasn’t all in your head after all.

what did it mean if he was trying to let you in?

you tried not to think back to the night at the bar, when simon had his fingers inside you. when he coaxed you to orgasm, his words melting in your ear, like he was just as desperate for you as you had become for him.

and maybe he pushed you away because he didn't know how to let someone in that kind of way—and maybe what he was feeling scared him. then the image of the blonde woman he was talking to in the training room—him watching her attentively as she spoke—made you think of his fingers on her. it made your stomach twist into knots. you shut that thought down and instead tried to conjure the way he looked at you in the bar—when he said, i fuckin’ hate seeing you with other guys . well, apparently, you hated seeing him with other girls, too.

a sudden flush warmed your cheeks as you strolled down the hall at base. except simon was a grown man—years older than you, even—so you weren’t going to put words in his mouth. if he wanted you to know how he felt, he’d tell you. you weren’t going to sit around and make things up in your head—playing around with all the what if’s.

and still, your mind wandered. it felt like you had no power in keeping him out of your mind and you hated it. you hated that you thought of him so often. you couldn’t help but think back to the other night in his room when he followed you into the bathroom and stared at you like he wanted to devour you whole. his body radiating so much heat, you felt yourself sweating standing before him. you remembered the way his lips twitched like he was dying to kiss you, acting like a starving man.

your heart fluttered and you shook your head of your daydreams. you were off to find soap, who was hopefully in the training room, needing to feel confident in yourself again before you went on your next mission. and you needed him by your side to help you practice.

it was weird how you had somehow weaseled your way into task force 141. you were swept away into the rush of combat, the adrenaline boost of being in the height of the action. sidelined with ghost, price, gaz, and soap. it not only made you swell with a bit of pride but made you nauseous at the thought of delving into something so crucial and vital. were you really cut out to be at the same level as these men?

you peered into the training room through the glass door and looked for soap. when you didn’t spot him, you used that as an excuse to hold off on your training exercises to go and seek him out… you couldn’t train alone … at least that’s what you told yourself. maybe you weren’t really ready to get back into the action and you were using this as an excuse to make yourself impertinent to the upcoming mission. maybe you’d get left behind.

down at the motorpool—the large hangar where all the humvees and other military-grade vehicles were kept—you felt a cold breeze rustle through your hair through the open wall. you hustled down the metal stairs, scanning the large room, looking for a mohawked sergeant.

your eyes perused a crowd of commotion and you maneuvered your way over to see what was going on. as you got closer, you realized it was a collective of new recruits. it was easy for it to slip your mind that a new wave of soldiers had been starting out this week. you hadn’t even thought to ask if that meant you’d be getting any new medics in the infirmary.

they were likely getting lectured on safety protocols with all the tanks and militarized vehicles. bored with the swarm of newbies, you slid behind a humvee to go find soap, maybe he’d have some intel on divisions the recruits were being added to.

a deep voice echoed behind you and made the hairs on your neck rise. you stopped in your tracks and peered around the vehicle, spotting a tall man with a skull balaclava on. ghost .

you couldn’t help the nerves that filled your chest and stomach. were things going to be awkward with your next encounter? should you mention the intimate details he told you last night, or pretend like it never happened?

as you pondered your unusual situation with your lieutenant, your heart stopped. ghost stood beside the blonde recruit you saw him with the other day in the gym. her hair was pulled back in a way that should be unflattering but somehow accentuated her beauty. she sported the same dull outfit as the rest of her peers and yet she wore it far better than you ever could. what made your eyes widen, however, was the way she looked up at ghost as another lieutenant was lecturing the group about something you tuned out, already accustomed to the military spiel.

you watched in horror as she bumped him on the shoulder, laughing as she said something to him. why were you getting so jealous? simon wasn’t yours . if he wanted to flirt with the new recruit, he had every right—no matter how unethical, but that thought was just you being petty.

ghost looked down at her, hunched over slightly so his face was in line with hers, and mumbled something under his mask. your heart dropped at the proximity of their faces.

you finally had enough, pissed at yourself for falling into a rabbit hole, thinking maybe he had grown to truly care about you. you turned back in your tracks and went to leave. ghost’s head snapped up at your abrupt movement, your boots on the hard ground echoing in the building at the lull in lecture. you refused to meet his eyes and raced back to the metal stairs and ran up them as fast as you could without falling.

you’d find soap later. you didn’t want to see him right now. how could you let yourself get hurt by ghost again? johnny would think you so stupid—you said you were moving on, that it didn’t bother you anymore. but then, spotting him with another girl, it made you feel sick.

you needed to get him out of your head for good. shouldn’t it be easy? he didn’t like you. he told you so himself.

you hadn’t heard him coming, so when you made it back into the hallway, you yelped as two hands grabbed you and spun you around, pushing you up against the cement wall.

the ugly fluorescent light stuttered, creating an eerie glow over ghost as he loomed above you, his hands still gripping your shoulders.

“i can’t fuckin’ do this, anymore,” he growled out. the baritone of his voice sent a small wave of fear up your spine. you may have grown to like ghost, acquainted with his rough demeanor, but you couldn’t forget how intimidating he could truly be.

you looked away from his gaze, your eyes watering. how stupid ghost must think you. to be incapable of a hookup—to be crying over him. he was a cold-hearted killer years older than you, and you really thought you stood a chance? he must think you beyond naive. maybe he’d finally get you kicked off his team—

he cut off your racing thoughts abruptly when he grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him. you heard him sigh as you let your eyes meet his, a tear sliding down your cheeks. “i’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“stop apologizing.” you thought back to one of your first conversations with ghost, when he had yelled at you for being so soft—for apologizing so freely. he told you to stop then, too.

you could feel the warmth from his gloveless fingers as he held your chin in place, almost like he was worried you’d look away the second he let go. his eyes flickered to your lips, his thumb brushing over your bottom one with a gentle swipe. your lips parted at his touch before ghost dropped his hands back to his side.

“m’not interested in her,” he said rather quietly.

your eyes found his before dancing away and looking at your feet. you didn’t think you’ve ever felt so embarrassed before. getting jealous over your superior—who has made it clear he’s not interested—talking to another teammate?! “it’s fine,” you said shyly. “i’m sorry, you don’t have to explain yourself. i know that you—uhm—comforting me doesn’t mean we’re together. i don’t know why i—”

ghost’s hand on your chin cut you off for a second time. “look at me.”

you reluctantly did and he dropped his hand again, his fingers flexing. “m’not good for you.”

you blinked rapidly, tilting your head slightly. “what do you m—”

“for fuck’s sake,” he said a bit harshly. “you’re right. we’re not together . and yet i’ve already hurt ya more times than i’d like.” he had to bend his neck to look down at you as he spoke. he took a small step closer, entering your personal space in a way that made your head rush. “you deserve better than me. a better man.”

“ghost, i—”

“simon,” he corrected in a harsh, splitting tone. you felt your cheeks warm. simon shifted on his feet, his mask suddenly itchy and uncomfortable. “used t’like that callsign. reminded me of who i had become n’ why i was doin’ all this. but hearin’ you say m’name, my real name …” he cleared his throat. “reminded me of who i started out as. that m’human.” he paused. “i like hearin’ your voice say my name.”

your lips quirked up a little but quickly faded. simon watched your every movement, his heart racing just as it did on the battlefield. “i don’t understand.” your hands came up and ran through your hair. “i’m so confused. d-do you want me as a friend? or do want me to forget everything that’s happened between us and pretend like nothing happened between us? that’d probably be best, wouldn’t it?” you gave a strained laugh and simon’s eyes narrowed. “you’re my lieutenant and i'm just a medic.” you didn’t know if that last sentence was intended for you, or him.

he wanted to tell you that you weren’t just a medic . he hated hearing the way you talked about yourself.

you looked up at him with such fierce hope in your eyes, but he could see the sadness laced behind them. and all that sorrow had spurred from him. he caused that pain you were feeling. he was ruining you already. ruining such an innocent thing. that’s what he did, he was destructive. he tore things down. he should stop leading you on. he should hurt you so you’ll go back to hating him. so you can be just another one of his subordinates again.

after a few beats of silence, you nodded. “okay,” you said softly, accepting that as his answer. your words were so faint that it hurt simon’s ears to hear your voice like that.

this was it—the closure you needed. you developed a little crush. simon thought you attractive enough for one night of reprieve. you wanted more. he couldn’t give it to you. and he was telling you to move on from all the shit that happened between the two of you. to forget those nights he comforted you. to forget how much relief you felt when he was the first face you saw after being held hostage.

you turned to walk away, your back to him. simon felt his heartache, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long fucking time. shit , this was only going to hurt you and him. but he wasn’t a good man. he wasn’t a better man. or a man you deserved. he’d only ruin you. he shouldn’t let himself. but he never claimed to be a good man.

ghost yanked his mask from his face, shoving it in his pocket. it took him only a few strides to catch up to you. he grabbed your arm and spun you around so you collided with his chest. he was done bullshitting around. in this moment, he decided he didn’t care about how this would be a disaster. he’d worry about that later.

“ what —?” you started, surprised.

then his lips were on yours.

his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you onto the tips of your toes as he kissed you deeper, starved for something only you could quench.

you were hesitant before quickly matching his passion. your hands wrapped around his neck, encouraging his tall frame further down over you. you both stumbled as he backed you up against the wall of the abandoned hallway, his hands around your waist, forcing you into him.

he tasted like whiskey and mint and a little like something cataclysmic. something that would only hurt you with time. but you didn’t care. in that moment, the only thing you could think about was the way he felt against you.

you had worked with ghost for over a month now, and you never imagined him as a romantic. you couldn’t picture him kissing a girlfriend or wife. or see him saying sweet nothings into his partner's ear. so with him filling all of your senses, his hands gently, but firmly, plastering you to him as he devoured you, the juxtaposition of it gave you butterflies.

one of his hands escaped and slid up to cup your cheek, allowing him to deepen the kiss. you felt your breath get lost in your throat, his lips far more soft and warm than you would have imagined someone like his.

“m’not good for you,” he mumbled between kisses.

“i don’t care,” you said breathlessly.

he pushed his body against yours in response, caging you in between him and the wall. you heard him groan in his throat. his hand slid against your skin where your shirt began to hike up, his fingertips leaving burn marks all over.

he finally slowed, kissing you a few more times before actually pulling away. but his hands stayed locked around you. “don’t think i can handle losing you,” he said truthfully.

your breath got lost the second you were able to look at his bare face. his rugged beauty made you want to weep. he was so gorgeous and you doubt he even knew it.

“you won’t.”

he didn’t seem to like that answer. you didn't know that. but he did. he knew something was sure to come between the two of you, whether that was death or of his own destruction.

his eyebrows furrowed as he studied you, his cheeks pinking and his lips swollen. before he had time to ruin this moment, you went onto the tips of your toes, feeling brazen as your hands clutched onto his jacket so you could kiss him again. your hands moved to wrap around his waist, softly scratching his back over his shirt. you heard him moan into the kiss and you subconsciously clenched your thighs.

“ fuck ,” he mumbled against your lips, his slight stubble tickling you. “i want you so bad.”

your heart fluttered in your chest. your head was telling you to slow down—to stop and discuss things. to figure out what was happening between the two of you so you didn’t get burned again.

but when you opened your lips to speak, all that came out was, “ prove it. ”

simon grunted, pulling back to look at you. if he was a smiling man, he would be grinning ear to ear. something wicked was spreading through him. “you don’t want a man like me,” he rasped.

“you don’t know what i want.”

he bent over and swept you up into his arms making you squeal. he clicked his tongue, “quiet, pet. don’t want the whole barracks to know, do ya?”

you shook your head, unable to speak for fear of stumbling over your words.

simon carried you swiftly back to his room, skillfully avoiding running into anyone, not even caring that he didn’t have his mask on.

you made it to the confines of his room in record time. he was a man on a mission.

he kicked the door closed behind him and plopped you down onto your feet, his hand dragging against your body as he did. you swallowed hard, your hands gripping his jacket.

you leaned into him tentatively, like you were asking permission. like you weren’t sure if he was going to push you away for being forward. that thought made simon angry, his hands tightening on you.

he leaned over to meet your lips halfway. you moved in sync far slower than earlier, the two of you taking the time to soak in the moment. all of your worries about the upcoming mission, all of the things that kept you awake at night, were slowly sinking away. simon was absorbing it all. taking the pain so you could feel the relief.

and simon was never a kissing man. he didn’t really see the point. but he never wanted his lips to separate from yours. he felt your kiss all the way to his fucking toes.

he pushed you back so your knees hit his bed and you collapsed onto it. his hands rested on either side of your thighs on his mattress, his eyes burning holes through you. his eyelashes stood out, the blondeness of them stark against his charcoal face paint.

“m’not gonna be able t’stop once i start,” he said darkly. “so ya gotta tell me now if you don’t wanna do this.”

he was holding himself back from wrecking you like he so desperately wanted. the number of times he had imagined this moment where he got you alone in his room, ready and willing, was sure to be astronomical by now.

you gulped, his nose inches from yours as he waited for your answer. his fingers were begging to touch you, but he had to wait. he had to make sure you wanted this. that you wanted him like he wanted you.

“please. don’t stop,” you said, quietly.

simon growled low in his throat, his hands sliding up over your thighs. your lips parted as you watched him unbuckle your tactical pants. “lift your hips,” he commanded. you obliged and he heaved the clothing away from you, not in the right state of mind to take his time. he wanted you—no, he needed you—right this second.

he tore your pants off of you along with your boots and then he was squeezing himself between your thighs, falling to the floor on his knees.

“simon, what’re—“

his large hands hooked around your thighs and yanked you to the edge of the bed, putting your legs on his shoulders. you felt shy all of a sudden. taken aback. you didn’t quite think he was going to do this…

“relax, pet,” he cooed, his warm lips meeting the soft skin of your upper thigh. you bit your lip as you watched him, his eyes never leaving yours. his eyes fluttered as he moved his lips on you. he kissed up to the apex of your thighs and then kissed you over your underwear. you gasped from the fiery contact. he chuckled, reveling in the way you were already panting before him.

he pushed your panties to the side and his lips were immediately on you, not wanting to tease you any longer purely because he couldn’t stand it. his mouth was on your core, kissing and sucking, his tongue dragging along you. your head fell back in pleasure, your hands finding his hair.

he hummed against you, the obscene sounds his mouth was making rang in your ears.

he devoured you like a man who hadn’t eaten for days. and you were a buffet spread out for the taking.

you felt his finger slide up and tease your entrance, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked gently. you groaned.

simon was getting frustrated with the cloth that limited his access, so he hooked your panties in his hand and yanked. you gasped as the fabric ripped and he tossed it to the ground. he spoke when he saw your mouth open, “i’ll buy you more.”

his lips were attacking you before you had the chance to even reply.

simon slid one of his digits inside of you, slowly filling you up. “ oh my god ,” you moaned.

he began to move his finger in and out of you while he worked your clit with his mouth. his free hand wrapped around your thigh and splayed over your stomach to keep you from moving, rooting you in place while he coaxed you closer to your orgasm.

without warning, he slid a second finger inside you, making you squeal. “you taste so fuckin’ good,” he mumbled to himself. he moved his fingers in and out of you and you fell back onto the bed, moaning at the way he was torturing you. “sound good, too.”

his fingers pumped inside you and he felt your walls squeezing him tight. “close?” he asked.

you nodded furiously, unable to speak a coherent word. he groaned against you like he was enjoying pleasuring you as much as you were.

then he slipped his fingers from you. you whined at the loss. “don’t worry, i’m gonna get you there. i just want you t’come on my tongue, baby,” he reassured. his mouth was on you again, his tongue darting in and out like his digits had been as if he was jealous of his own fingers. you didn’t even have time to process the pet name.

you fisted his bedsheets, your legs wrapping around him, your hips bucking up slightly. simon held you down as his mouth brought you to orgasm. you cried his name, “ ah –simon.” you tried to muffle the sound with your hand.

simon let you ride out your high, his mouth never failing to move against you, bringing you to the brink of overstimulation.

when you settled back down, completely out of breath, he came up and rested between your legs. “neva thought m’name could sound so good.”

your face warmed, shy at his compliment. his mouth glistened with you and you had the urge to kiss him. he grinned, reading your face, and he brought his lips down and let you taste yourself.

it felt like you had a fever as you kissed him. you bucked your hips up into him without your permission and he groaned. you could feel his hard length straining in his pants, pushing against you.

“ jesus ,” he said breathlessly.

your hands slid down his front and he turned to watch them as they trailed to his belt. before you could undo it he pushed back and stood up. he slid his jacket off, his eyes never breaking away from yours. next was his belt, the metal clinking something so sensual. then he pushed them down his legs, kicking off his boots too, and you could see how large he was in his tight boxers. you sat up, your legs hanging off the bed as you watched, entranced.

then he pulled his shirt from his body, exposing his toned chest. even though the lighting in his room wasn’t great, you could easily see all the scars that marred his torso, matching the ones that cut across his beautiful face, only managing to make him that much more haunting. he had a small smattering of hair on his chest that then trailed down beneath his boxers. your chest thrummed loudly in your ears.

your hands reached out and grabbed at his waistband, pulling him closer to you. even though you would never be strong enough to move him, he edged closer, letting you have your way. you looked up at him as your hand slid into his underwear, pulling him out. he groaned, his lips parting as you fisted him. you were still surprised with how bold you were acting. but the way his eyes had darkened, looking at you like a feral animal, gave you a confidence boost.

your eyes fluttered down and you marveled at him, a glistening of precum already pooling on his tip. and fucking hell, he was huge. you already knew he was from that drunken night, but being with him sober? you had no idea how he was going to fit inside you.

you stroked him a few times, prepared to bring your mouth down over him before he pushed you away.

you looked up confused and his thumb brushed along your lower lip. “as much as i’d like t’feel your hand and mouth ‘round me. i won’t last.” he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “and i need t’be inside you or it might kill me.”

your heart raced at his dramatics. he grabbed you under your armpits and heaved you further back onto his bed. you sat and watched as he crawled up and over you. he pushed your legs apart to much of your resistance, suddenly feeling a wave of bashfulness. “don’t go shy on me now, pet.”

your stomach warmed as he bullied his way between your legs, settling himself on top of you like this was exactly where he belonged and you weren’t about to tell him otherwise. and he was far too heavy for you to move even if you tried. his hands were quick to find the hem of your shirt and tear it up over your head. he groaned as he looked at your chest. he seemed too impatient to properly unhook your bra so he simply tugged it down. your nipples hardened for him. and simon couldn’t stop himself, he leaned down and sucked on one of your tits, his other hand palming your other breast.

your back arched into him as his soft lips teased your nipple. his other hand kneaded your breast, making a chill ride up your spine. you helped him out and undid your bra, tossing it to the side. his tongue swirled around you and you finally broke. “simon, please . i need you.”

and if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard in his sorry excuse of a life.

he didn’t deserve to have you begging for him like that. but he didn’t care. he rose from your chest and gazed down at you, his hand running through your hair, admiring the glow your skin was emitting from the fevor.

“you deserve to be fucked good n’ slow,” his words guttural. “but i need ya too fuckin’ badly, pet.”

you didn’t care about any of that. you wanted him to know he didn’t have to be gentle with you. you reached down between your bodies and gripped his cock in your hand, making his hips jerk forward. “then take me,” you whispered.

“shit,” he cursed, his cock throbbing painfully against you. “don’t have a condom.” simon didn’t ever keep condoms in his room at base. he didn’t have a habit of sleeping with subordinates. when he slept with women, it was back home.

you helped line him up with your entrance, your body heady with anticipation. he breathed your name. “it’s fine,” you urged.

“s’not. we shouldn’t—“

“simon, please.” you looked up at him through your lashes. a piece of you felt like if you two didn’t fuck right this second, it was never going to happen. and you wanted him more than you had ever wanted any other man in your life.

“y’sure?” he knew he wasn’t going to say no when you asked him, looking so pretty sprawled beneath him. he wasn’t as strong as he thought.

you nodded and slid your hands up to wrap around simon’s back as he took charge, taking his cock in his hand and pushing his tip into you without wasting time.

you both groaned in sync. he edged into you ever so slowly. and even with your previous orgasm loosening you up to him, it was still a tight fit. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“m’i hurtin’ you?”

your eyes fluttered open to a concerned simon, his eyes darting between yours, trying to get a read on you. “y’gotta tell me if i’m hurtin’ ya.”

“you’re not hurting me,” you said, breathlessly.

“hm, jus’ a bit too big for ya, then?” he rasped. he chuckled at the way you went shy at his words even though his cock was currently edging inside you—but it was his words that made you blush. “you can take it,” he cooed.

he pushed into you further, and you mewled in your throat at the intrusion. your body tried to push him out, making simon groan into your neck. “so. fuckin’. tight,” he managed to get out.

you buried your face in his neck while he was buried in your hair, both of you trying to compose yourselves as simon forced his way into you. “simon,” you groaned, making his hips jerk, sending his length further into you in a way that was almost painful.

“gotta stop sayin’ my name, princess. or i won’t be able to do this slowly,” he said through strained breaths.

princess . you felt your heart swoon at hearing something so devastatingly sweet coming out in his husky baritone.

you nodded and his hand slid up and fisted your hair.

it took another full minute for him to slowly push his way inside of you. your legs were wrapped around his waist, pressing against him as tightly as you could, bracing yourself for the small sharp spurts of pain. “m’sorry,” he muttered into your ear. he knew it hurt you. he could see it on your face that the way he stretched you out was uncomfortable. but bloody fucking hell , he couldn’t stop.

“s’okay,” you slurred.

your hips bucked up weakly when simon adjusted his position. you both groaned at the movement. your clit brushed against him, sending a bolt of pleasure through your core. “please. move, now.”

he was big, and even with you so wet, he still teetered the line of being too large for you. but you could handle it. you just needed to get past this part so you could fully enjoy it.

he held himself up on his arms and he slowly dragged his cock out of you, only going halfway, before pushing back into you with decent resistance. “ah,” you cried.

“need me t’stop?” he asked you, though he prayed you’d say no.

you shook your head and spoke a bit breathlessly. “no. keep going. please.”

he furrowed his brows but did as you said.

he pulled out halfway again before pushing back in. this time he groaned deep in his throat, the way your walls squeezed him was almost too much.

he slowly pulled out again, except now he did all the way. and when he thrusted back into you, you yelped. he tried to restrain himself, but his mind was turning to mush. he began at a steady thrusting rhythm, trying to go slow, but on the brink of completely breaking and succumbing to his desires.

after a few strokes, your body adjusted and allowed him to move a little more easily.

and it began to feel good. really good. you wondered if it would feel this good if simon was any other man. or if this was so mind-numbing because of how desperate you were for him.

simon grunted, repeatedly in your ear just as you imagined he would. he wasn’t usually very vocal in bed, didn’t see the need. he thought it was all just theatrics. but he couldn’t stop himself from letting sounds pour from his mouth. you felt that good.

“m’not gonna last— oh, fuck— long.”

your nails dug into his marred back, neither of you caring about how much pressure you were putting on him. to be honest, he didn’t even care if you drew blood—if anything, he might have preferred it. he wanted to know you were enjoying this just as ardently as he was.

simon reached around him to grab one of your hands that currently had a death grip on his back and interlaced your fingers before pushing your interlocked hands onto the mattress. you squeezed his hand tightly, an orgasm brewing inside you.

“god,” you mewled, letting out little whimpers every time he bottomed out.

“sound s’pretty f’me, pet,” he said through gritted teeth.

his other hand reached down to your thigh and pulled your leg further up, hooking his hand behind your knee, so he could hit you deeper. you gasped at the position shift, his cock in as deep as it could possibly go. his hand held your thigh so tightly you worried he might leave bruises.

“i’m so close,” you babbled. your free hand slid to the back of his head, your fingers tangling in his short hair. he loved the way it felt.

simon looked down at you, marveling at how fast you were reaching your climax, just as he was. he liked the notion that he was doing this to you.

his makeup smudged down his face from the perspiration, his pale lashes standing out against the dark. your heart raced looking at him. he was gorgeous. he caught your gaze and leaned down to kiss your lips—something that surprised him. he wasn’t a romantic. he didn’t even really like kissing. yet he couldn’t help himself when it came to you.

you clenched around him and his lips parted, gasping and breathing heavily against your mouth. his hand that was currently around your leg left to pay attention between your thighs. he began circling your clit with his fingers. “want you t’come for me,” he said lowly.

you mewled, his lips still grazing yours as you both tried to breathe. you spasmed around him and he shut his eyes briefly at the sensation. “ fuck .”

as he felt himself about to release, he had the urge to be looking at you. he opened his eyes and used one hand to grab your chin, making your face look directly at him. “don’t look away,” he commanded.

you nodded, his hand reaching back down between your thighs. your legs began to shake, your walls impossibly tight as they clenched repeatedly around him. “bloody hell,” he moaned.

you felt so good, he didn’t want to pull out. he wanted to feel this forever. and as you climaxed, he reached his high, his sounds primal, growling and grunting at an increasing speed with each of his frantic thrusts.

his fingers continued to rub against you even as he pulled his cock out of you. but he was a little too late. he came just inside your entrance, then emptied himself all over your lower stomach.

you cried out his name as he panted, his fingers never faltering, his other hand still gripped tightly around yours. “simon,” you breathed in a pained breath. “stop, please. s’too much.”

he slowed his finger movements and then pulled away completely. he sat back to look down at you. his hand slipping from yours. you lay sprawled on his bed, your legs parted for him, his waist nestled between them. his come was dripping from your cunt, your chest rising in rapid beats. “fuckin’ hell,” he couldn’t help but praise. you were a work of art. and he was going to fucking ruin you.

then something feral came over him. he leaned down, his hands grabbing the tops of your thighs, keeping your legs from touching one another, and his tongue came out, licking you like he had earlier. “ah! what’re you— oh my go d—doing?” you asked, exasperated.

“cleanin’ you up,” he said nonchalantly like this was the normal way men acted after sex instead of being repulsed by their own come, finding clarity after orgasming.

you were so sensitive as he lapped at you, his tongue dancing over your clit and sucking at your labia gently at first. but then he went a little harder, on a new mission entirely. your legs squeezed around his head, caging him in, wanting to block the overwhelming sensation. you were starting to feel beyond overstimulated.

“s-simon,” you stuttered, wanting him to stop, but not being able to get the words out. his tongue focused back on your clit, sucking and rubbing aggressively against you. and without even realizing it was possible, you orgasmed for a third time. you came around his mouth again as he ate you like you were the most delectable dessert he’d ever had.

he let you ride out your high on his tongue before he pulled away and hovered over you. “ jesus ,” he groaned, looking at your messed-up hair and glowing face.

his hand moved to brush against your lips, his thumb dragging over them before sliding to the side of your face and running through your hair. your eyes fluttered at the delicate touch.

simon collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as yours was, as if he, too, just came again.

the realization crashed down on you as you looked over at him. he felt your gaze and he rolled his head on the bed to meet your eyes.

“i-i can do casual,” you said, your face heating. he quirked a brow in question. “i can be casual. you don’t have to worry about my feelings. i—”

“is that what you think this is?”

your eyes had a hard time staying locked with his. “was i not supposed to think… i thought you wanted…” your hands twirled around once another in nerves.

simon rolled to his side, his arm extending over you protectively and caged you in. “there has never been anything casual about us.” his eyes flickered to your lips. he sighed. “i don’t want casual.” as much as he fought his desires for you, they were never casual.

did that mean he wanted nothing at all? was this it? did he reach his end goal? getting into your pants? and now he wanted nothing more from you.

“oh,” you said crestfallen and a little embarrassed.

“i want more than that,” he said through a struggled breath, as if this was foreign for him to say—at it likely was—but more importantly, he knew he shouldn’t be saying it.

“as in…” you started. his hand came out to brush against your cheek. fucking hell, you never thought he could be so gentle. your eyes dropped to the scar on his lip.

“ as in ,” he continued, “i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. i haven’t had a girlfriend since secondary school. and even that wasn’t serious.”

your eyes widened. “ girlfriend ?”

he rolled his eyes and fell back onto his pillow, running a hand through his hair. “i’m tellin’ you,” he said dragging out the words. “i want you to be mine . n’ only mine.” his voice got deeper all of a sudden thinking of the times he had thought you were with johnny. or when graves had complimented you and you smiled sweetly at him. he hated that jealous feeling he got.

you waited a beat before sitting up completely. he watched you, his eyes focused. “are you going to ask me?”

he smirked, looking like a predator hunting its prey. “no.” he sat up too, grabbing his shirt from the floor and handing it to you to put on. “m’not askin’, pet. i’m tellin’ you. you’re mine.”

“and if i choose not to acknowledge that?” you were pushing him. while you liked the openness he was currently exuding, you also had something in your gut telling you he wasn’t good for you— look at his track record. how he’s treated you so far .

“you’ll end up gettin’ me dishonorably discharged if y’do that.”

“how–”

“i’d have t’kill any man you let touch you.”

you laughed, but his face didn’t change. “you can’t be serious.”

“deadly.”

you should have had him grovel more for what he had said to you. for all the mean words. for the night in the bar when he told you you meant nothing to him. and now, all of a sudden, he thought he had claim over you. your lust was clogging your head, and now you were seeing clearly.

“i don’t think that's fair.” you looked away from him, putting his shirt on and crawling out of his bed, looking for your pants.

simon pulled his boxers back on and reached out to you before you could get too far. his calloused hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. if he decided to never let you go, you’d never be able to leave. you were nowhere near as strong as him.

you turned slowly towards him. he sat on the edge of his bed, his eyes looking at his feet in thought, his arm extended to you.

you took in a breath as you watched him, waiting for him to say or do something. “simon,” you finally said, softly.

he looked up at you, his usual cold demeanor covering his face, though it was almost more unsettling without his mask. “what d’you want from me?”

you tilted your head. “what do i want from you?”

he nodded, his hand still clutching yours. “i don’t know. i… i guess i never knew. you never really gave me time.” your free hand pulled at his shirt in nerves. “all i know, is i wanted you to like me. that’s how it started, at least,” you gave a mirthless, forced laugh. “and maybe i did develop a little crush,” you said, mimicking how he had said it. your cheeks grew hot, embarrassed to be saying this. you weren’t sure how words were embarrassing you when you just had his head between your legs, but that was beyond the point. “and then i thought you definitely hated me. probably thought i was a kiss-up. but at the bar… and you said…”

he sighed. “i know what i said.”

you rolled your eyes in an attempt to hold back the tears. “so, i don’t know what i want, simon. i didn’t think this,” you gestured between the two of you, “was going to amount to… this.”

simon jerked you towards him and you had no choice but to stumble into him. his hand released you and instead, both of them slid up your leg and rested on the sides of your thighs as you stood between his open legs. “m’sorry.”

you gave him a sideways smile.

“i didn’t wanna let anyone get too close. they always leave me in the end. thought pushin’ you away would do us both good.” he shook his head. “was wrong—which is new for me.”

you giggled and he smiled, wiping your eyes before tears could fall.

his grip on your legs tightened. “m’not good for you. i meant that. but i want you. and m’done pretendin’ like i don’t. m’not a good man. but you can decide f’yourself.”

your finger traced one of the scars on his cheeks. “so, you want to keep doing this?”

he nodded.

“and we’re to be… exclusive.”

“i wasn’t kiddin’ ‘bout killin’ any man that touches you.”

you didn’t doubt it. “okay,” you said faintly.

his eyes flickered between yours. “okay,” he mirrored.

something strange settled in simon’s stomach. in all the ways without actually saying it, you were now his girlfriend. how you had gone from hating him to dating him, in less than an hour was beyond him.

and he knew he was going to mess this up. he had always known he was never allowed to keep anything good in life. that’s a big reason he refused to act on his feelings towards you. it’s why he tried to get you to hate him after he relapsed at the bar. he didn’t deserve anything good.

nothing good can stay, at least not for simon.

and he would soon be right.

chapter 14 ➡

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morallyinept · 8 months

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Five Days - A Joel Miller Series (Complete)

Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Mostly told from reader's POV, but you get Joel’s thoughts occasionally too. I've also introduced some of my own original characters along the way.

Word Count: 40k approx. Each chapter varies in length as this is a multi-chapter novella.

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶 “You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Eventual Smut - Sloooow burn romance. Joel being his grumpy ass self. Hot smut eventually occurs. Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!) fingering/oral sex, both giving and receiving/love making/mild dirty talk. All the good stuff.

Triggers - Feelings of angst, unrequited love. Depression/trauma. Mentions of death/violence/suicide attempts (failed)/pining/longing. Use of guns. Attacks by infected. Mentions of blood/injury/gore/wounds. Descriptions of panic attacks.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy reading this lil’ angsty/romance story of mine with our favourite contractor, Joel Miller.

SERIES COMPLETE

Enjoy! 🖤

Ch 1 - The Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse

Ch 2 - Lucky Charms

Ch 3 - The Goose To His Maverick

Ch 4 - Hello Fate? Are You There?

Ch 5 - Loser

Ch 6 - Day One: Passing Time

Ch 7 - Day One/Two: Endure And Survive

Ch 8 - Day Three: Thunder

Ch 9 - Day Three: Punching Glitter

Ch 10 - Day Four: Old Habits

Ch 11 - Day Five: Look For The Light

Ch 12 - When We Were Young

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bound - A Five Days Christmas Drabble 🎄

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller tlou #joel miller romance #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #jett's writing #five days series

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lot-of-nothing · 29 days

Text

Entwined (Ch. 6)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Protective Mel <3

Warnings: Smut, flirting, arguments, and working through internalized homophobia

Author’s Note: THIS TOOK SO LONG OH MYGOD. @icannolongercountmyfandoms is the one you can thank for a new chapter bc she LITERALLY threatened me with BODILY HARM /j

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5

A soft knock on your office door drew your attention from your desktop monitor to the sweet face of Melissa Schemmenti. You had been ordering parts on a vehicle currently in your shop when her presence delightfully interrupted your work.

Leaning back in your desk chair, you rest your hands on your thighs as you look her over. She wore leather pants and a form fitting top that only reminded you that it had been weeks since you last fooled around with the beautiful redhead. You spoke with a smirk, your eyes obviously wandering to admire her entire body, “What do I owe the pleasure of having Ms. Schemmenti in my office?”

Mel adored the way you stared, allowing the door to shut behind her as she inched deeper into the office. Her eyes scanned the walls littered with articles about the auto shop that had been in business for decades - opened by your great-uncle in the 70s. She murmured her reply without looking at you, “Just thought I’d drop by...”

“I saw you less than 12 hours ago. I can’t believe you miss me already.” Your eyes were glued to her ass as she turned her back to you.

Melissa kept her back to you as she spoke, slowly walking the perimeter of the office to skim the framed headlines. She returned the playful banter with a monotone, “I’m just here to make sure you are doin’ your job and not just daydreamin’ about me all day.”

“I have time for both.” You tease, earning a sideways glance and eye roll from the redhead.

When she was done touring the office, she perched herself at the edge of your desk. Your response was to move your office chair closer while simultaneously leaning backwards, stretching out to allow Melissa’s eyes to skim over you.

“Enjoying the view?” You asked.

“I am.” Her arms folded over her chest as a mischievous smirk grew on her lips. Mel’s eyes flickered from your shoulders, over your chest, allowing her eyes to linger before drifting back to your face, “I’ve never seen you in your work clothes.”

You give a shrug, teasing her, “That happens when you don’t call before 8pm.”

Your comment had more bite than you intended, but Melissa didn’t seem to take it too personally. She brushed her hair over her shoulder before placing both of her hands on the arms of your chair and looming over you, “Why don’t you let me make it up to you?”

Rather than meet her intense green hues, you admired her cleavage with no effort to conceal your desires. “What do you have in mind?” Melissa’s demeanor changed with a playful laugh. You could’ve sworn you felt her purring as her face drifted closer to yours. Her nose and lips brushed against yours before she scantily pulled away, “A little weekend getaway. You, me, and a cheap, little hotel right on the beach in Atlantic City.”

You cocked your head with a shit eating grin across your face, “Are you asking me on a date?”

Her response contained no hesitation or nervousness. Rather she seemed incredibly satisfied with herself, “I am.”

“Then say it.” Your demeanor was entirely too confident for Melissa’s liking, and you could tell this was the case as her brows narrowed as she stared you down. Her stubborn nature had her fall silent, searching your face to see how serious you were. You confirmed your serious intentions as you returned her intimidating gaze, “Go on.”

The redhead glared for a few seconds longer before straightening her back and softening her features, “Will you go on a date with me?”

“Why, I thought you would never ask.” To reward Mel for her behavior, you rose from your chair, pressing a brief kiss to her lips that threatened to cause Melissa’s cheeks to flush red.

—

“What in the hell is this?” A voice and a banging on the window to your office caused Melissa to jump from your lap to prevent anyone from seeing how cozied up you had been with one another.

With a wave of frustration now coursing through your veins, you rose from your chair and strode to the door, opening it to face a disgruntled customer. He pushed a piece of paper stained with the vaguely familiar markings of the autoshop printer into your face. You quickly pushed away his hand and failed to provide his aggression with kind customer service, “It looks like a receipt.”

He pointed at the receipt, raving about the additional charges tacked onto the original cost of fixing his vehicle, “What the hell are all of these extra charges? You said it was gonna cost $300 and now you’re charging me over $500!”

You only shrugged at his frustrations, leaning away from him as he threatened your bubble of personal space once again as you tried to explain the additional charges. You hadn’t noticed Melissa lingering in the doorway behind you, silently fuming at the way the customer was speaking to you, “We told you when you dropped it off that you gotta pick it up within 24 hours or else we charge ya’ for parking. You left the Buick here for over a week, man. We aren’t a public parking lot. We need the space for other customers.”

“Where’s your fuckin’ manager?”

“I am the fuckin’ manager.”

You returning his energy wasn’t something he took kindly. He waded up the bill and tossed it aside before pushing his finger into your chest, “If you think for a goddamn minute I will be paying this bill, you have another thing comin’. I don’t need some bitch robbing me of my hard earned money.” The second he touched you, Melissa rounded your side and came to stand between you and the man. Her hands were balled into fists and perched on her hips as she stared defiantly up at the man who stood two feet taller than her. You glanced down and noticed gripped in one of her hands was a baseball bat you kept tucked behind your desk, “Is there a problem here?”

The man gave a tired sigh, waving a hand in Melissa’s face. Little did he know that his waving hand was akin to the red flag waving in the face of a raging bull, “Get lost, red. It’s none of your business.”

With one swift movement she lifted the bat, allowing it to slide in her hand so she gripped the barrell, shortening it enough that she could poke him in the chest with it. You watched her lean back and forth as she threatened him - a genetic trait of Schemmenti’s as they threatened people. “The second you decided to start with the name callin’ it became my problem. I suggest you pay up before your car ends up with more problems than what you came in with.”

He made the worst possible decision as he placed his hands on his knees, speaking to Melissa as if he were talking to a child. “Stay the hell out of this. This is between me and your girlfriend.”

Melissa stared him down for a fraction of a second before snapping. She allowed the bat to slide back down in her hand so she could grip the handle and lift the aluminum bat above her head, ready to strike. You were lucky you had your eyes glued to her rather than the unwelcome customer so you had the time to loop one arm around her waist while the other raised to grip the barrel of the bat.

“No, no, no, no!” You scolded, tugging her back towards the office while some of the boys working in the shop intervened.

Mel barely gave up a fight against you, rather she stared down her new mortal enemy with a vitriol you had yet to see on her face before. When she was finally in the office, you released her while tearing the bat from her grasp lest she have any ideas about slipping past you to exact her revenge.

Knowing she was now trapped in your office, she began pacing back and forth with a rage you could feel radiating off her. You leaned against the door, watching her traverse your office like a caged wildcat which only made you smile. With a lighthearted tone, you tried to calm her, “Easy, tiger.”

Melissa whipped around to face you, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as she was clearly unhappy with your decision to prevent her from teaching that guy a lesson. She stared up at you with a defiance that you found incredibly endearing, and what was even more endearing was the way she continued fighting for you, “He can’t just talk to you like that!”

“Don’t give it too much thought. I deal with guys like that all the time.” You calmly brush off the encounter, remembering countless situations wherein things escalated much further and you were called far worse. Leaving the bat by the door, you approach the seething woman with a serenity that cooled her boiling anger.

The redhead refused to respond to you and her eyes studied the calendar on the wall to avoid meeting your own. She folded her arms over chest and you watched her demeanor shift from simmering anger to pouty eyes begging for your attention.

Taking her face in your hands, you lift her face towards you and press a kiss to her forehead before wrapping her into a tight hug, “I promise you. It’s okay.”

You drop your phone down onto the bed when Melissa walks out only wearing an oversized sweatshirt. The bagginess of the clothing hid everything and you were ready to help her out of it as quickly as she put it on. You gestured for her to come to your side of the bed, “Just when I think you can’t get more gorgeous, you walk out looking like that.”

Melissa crawled into bed with you, straddling your lap for a moment to give you hope before sliding off to land on her side of the bed, “I have work in the morning. I don’t need any of your funny business. ”

You ‘tsked’ her response and pulled away the covers so she wouldn’t be able to hide. You rapidly maneuvered so you would be on your knees before her so your hands could guide her thighs open. She was smirking as she put up no fight against your efforts. She even lifted her sweatshirt to reveal more of herself to you; that move alone told you she wasn’t truly opposed to your ‘funny business’.

Settling onto your stomach, you lean your cheek against her thigh, staring intently at her panties, “Funny business? There is nothing funny about this...”

“Mm… Prove it.” A manicured hand wove into your hair, drawing your face closer to her heat. Her back arched involuntarily and caused her hips to shift downwards closer to your mouth.

“Happily.” You murmured, hooking your fingers around the waistband of her underwear and pulling them down her legs the best you could. They were at her knees when you lowered your face to her cunt once again. As a professional in pleasuring Melissa, you skillfully wound your arms around her thighs before using your fingers to spread her cunt open for your tongue to go to work.

You felt Melissa’s thighs squeeze your head for a moment as she worked to remove her underwear without trying to impact your ability to give head. The feeling of her legs around her head drove you insane. You tried to let her know how much you craved her as your hands shifted back to her thighs so you could feel your fingers compress into her soft flesh.

Melissa relaxed back into the bed, completely melting into your touch. Her hands rose above her head to grip the bed frame - a silent way of giving you complete control.

She was already sleepy from your lovemaking from nearly an hour ago, so this time Mel was far less energetic and performative. It was mesmerizing watching her head softly turn back and forth while soft breathy moans escaped her mouth. This was exactly what made Melissa so addicting for you.

You watched her crane her neck so she could press her face into her pillow to catch the fabric between her teeth. In response, you swirl your tongue around her clit before giving her clit a hard suck. She gave a strained and exhausted growl that faded into a quiet whine - her quietness all centered around preventing her roommate from hearing.

You attempted to move your mouth away to give her reprieve, but her hips lifted off the mattress to impede too much separation.

Part of you wondered how far you could push Melissa. To satiate your curiosity, you gently scraped your teeth against her clit, earning a hiss then a whiney moan. You were clearly pushing your luck with how much she could handle. When you continued with your teasing licks, your eyes flickered back up to her face to enjoy the view. Her chest was heaving and her bottom lip jutted out into a pathetic pout as her hips began grinding against your tongue as she sought out an orgasm.

For a split second you considered confessing your love to Melissa like you did all those years ago, but you kept yourself from doing so. She needed to come to you. Instead you opted to pay her a compliment instead, “You’re so good for me, pretty girl…”

Your heart fluttered as you watched a smile spread across her face. She then attempted to silence a rumble deep in her throat and hide her simper, but it was fruitless as the compliments continued falling off your lips. You breathily mumbled about her hips and thighs, briefly pausing to stroke your tongue up and down her drippy cunt, and continued your mad ramblings about how beautiful you found her to be.

In your moments of desperation, your words had caused Melissa’s face to grow hot from embarrassment. It was easy accepting compliments when the moment lacked the vulnerability of sex and nudity, but when your face was buried between her legs the flattering remarks felt all too real. She tried to brush them aside, only to have them linger at the outskirts of her mind.

As you refocused your attention on her clit with the addition of two fingers gently inching deeper into her pussy, Melissa was struggling to escape the thoughts of your feelings towards her. She despised how light it made her feel. She hated that she felt herself being drawn closer to orgasm from the adoration she felt from you.

Her fierce independence was battling the all-consuming craving to feel desired.

While you were not privy to her inner turmoil, you only worked harder to bring her pleasure. Your fingers gently curled within her, stroking that special spot you discovered during your youth. A coil tightened within Melissa, her hand shooting down to grip your spare wrist to steady herself.

You chose to lose yourself in giving head once again. Her breasts gently shook with each light shift of her body - a mesmerizing sight. You were lapping and kissing at her clit softly as you hoped to draw out this experience as much as possible. However, Melissa was unable to take anymore as an orgasm washed over her and her back swiftly lifted off the bed and quickly arched back into the mattress, pushing her hips to your mouth.

You slowed down the movements of your tongue, but you didn’t stop entirely. You wanted to slowly bring her down from her peak (and selfishly you wanted you to continue enjoying the feeling of her thighs clamped down on the sides of your head). When her back finally relaxed against the mattress, you slipped your hand from her cunt to reluctantly help guide her thighs into a resting position. You gave her thighs a couple of gentle bites, encouraging to ease up on you, “Come on, pretty girl…”

Melissa whimpered as her legs shakily parted, nervous you would attempt to continue regardless of her exhaustion. You only nuzzled her thighs, slowly smothering them with kisses in a way that gave Melissa butterflies.

She was quick to try and move herself out of such a vulnerable position. “Let’s get cleaned up. I’m already way up past my bedtime.” Melissa gave your arm a pat, encouraging you to get up as she shifted her hips to the left as if she were attempting to move off the bed.

You rolled off the redhead and sat up, taking that as her subtle hint for you to head home. After following Melissa to the bathroom and using the sink to wash your face and hands, you began gathering your clothes to make your exit. This only confused the redhead as she pulled back the comforter for both sides of the bed as she expected you to join her, “Whered’ya think your goin’?”

“Oh…” Your eyes widened and you began removing your sweatpants that you just put on. You undressed and joined the redhead in bed, earning a satisfied hum from her.

When you were settled on your back, Melissa was on her side facing away from you. She found a way to make physical contact with you by backing up in bed so her back was pressed to your side. She shifted in bed for a few moments as she tried to find a comfortable position, and after she did she mumbled sleepily, “Be warned. I wake up at 6.”

You started your sentence mid-yawn, “That’s a shocker.”

She had one final quip for you as sleep threatened to overtake her, “I don’t just wake up looking this beautiful.”

With a chuckle, you gave her ass a pat, mumbling out your final few words before allowing yourself to enjoy some silence before you fell asleep, “I doubt that…”

You woke up the next morning with Melissa already off to work, but when you checked your phone you had a message from Mel waiting for you.

Melissa: Couldn’t bear to wake you up. You should have told me you were that cute when you slept. I would’ve let you stay sooner.

Y/N: I don’t believe that for a second.

Y/N: Don’t worry. I’m getting ready right now and I’ll be out soon.

You quickly sent the second message as you didn’t want to seem too over confident nor did you want to overstay your welcome.

Melissa: No rush. There is lunch for you in the fridge. I marked the tupperware.

You grinned at your phone like a lovestruck idiot. Quickly you threw on your clothes and wandered down to the kitchen to see what Melissa had left for you in the fridge. Sitting on the top shelf was undoubtedly a tupperware full of her insanely good spaghetti with a bright pink sticky note stuck to the top marked with your name and a little heart.

Y/N: Thank you! Will I see you later?

Melissa: Open house tonight. See you Saturday?

Melissa: I’ll let you take me to dinner.

The thought of waiting two days to see Melissa next was brutal, but you would take what you got as rarely did she ever make plans with you in advance.

Y/N: Let me? What an honor.

Melissa: Believe me. I know.

You were smiling at your phone through the rest of the day as Melissa texted you about little things happening at school. Sometimes the stories she told you about Abbott were hard to believe.

Her attention made you feel lovesick as you were constantly checking your phone, smiling at the thought of her getting into shenanigans and doing her terrible impressions for her work friends. The thought of going on a weekend getaway with her was only sounding better and better.

Taglist: Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore, @jeridandridge @petty-femme27, @darkcolorphantom, @a-queen-and-her-throne

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #toxic relationship? kinda #little bit of smut <3

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writeonwhiskey · 3 months

Text

the skz house: ch 12 (18+)

a/n: thank you to @bahablastplz for editing & shmeems for proofreading.

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Chan.

[ read chapter eleven here ]

Chapter Twelve: Of Delays and Professor Bang

On your way to school Monday morning, Chan tells you to stay with Hyunjin again tonight. There’s no hiding the look of confusion on your face as you turn to face him. You don’t know if he assumes you and Hyunjin have already had sex or if it’s a new revelation—you wouldn’t be surprised if there were an iridescent aura surrounding you after the night you had with Hyunjin. Isn’t that what Chan wanted? You don’t want to read too deeply into his words, however you can’t help but feel like he’s pushing you away.

Chan’s eyes remain focused on the road. Even if he were looking at you, you’d have no idea what he’s thinking. You never do.

“Have another night with him, since the challenge starts this week,” he adds to his alarming statement with a shrug, as if it’s no big deal.

Maybe it is.

“Is this a game of hot potato?” You ask, half joking. “And I’m the potato being tossed around?”

“Is that how it feels?”

“A little bit.” You softly admit.

“If you’re uncomfortable, remember you can always le—”

“Chan,” you cut him off sharply. “I’m not saying I want to leave. I’m actually starting to settle in and enjoy myself. I’m just expressing how I feel. People have feelings, you do know that, right?”

He turns to look at you when he stops at a red light.

“The SKZ house is not a place for feelings, y/n. You do know that, right?” He counters.

You suck in a breath at his words and face forward. Clearly Chan has overcome his hangover and is back to being an asshat.

Hyunjin has no problem with your feelings. To hear you out when you express them, to cater to them, to protect them. Chan tramples all over them, like they’re dirt beneath his feet.

That can’t be entirely true, though. He showed that to you yesterday when he apologized.

You sigh and lean back against the headrest. It’s like he wants to provoke you sometimes, to make you angry, make you snap…to make you leave.

It infuriates you that he believes he could have such an influence over you. If he were smart, he’d give it a shot when you’re at your weakest—when he’s teasing you to the brink of insanity. You’d agree to damn near anything in those moments. But right now, with your full wits about you, he’s just pissed you off.

You fix your posture in the seat, feeling your determination to not let him get his way increase. In this car ride, on your way to your shared class, you make the decision to do whatever it takes to make Chan break in November. You’ll make him see he can’t push you around, that two can play this game. You’ll have him begging you for once.

On Tuesday, the duration of your afternoon class is filled with reminiscing about your bonus night with Hyunjin. You try to remain focused, but your thoughts keep drifting back to him and the things he did to you. That boy is made of magic and being with him, having him inside of you, makes you feel like you are too.

After class you wait in the parking lot for Changbin and Seungmin as usual for this day of the week. You’re dreading the thought of going home and being in Chan’s room. With tomorrow being November 1st, you can only assume he plans to get in a month’s worth of you in one night. And even more, you know you’ll cave to his needs the second his lips are on yours. But you can delay it. You can make him wait.

When Changbin and Seungmin make it back to the car, you put your plan to stall going home into action.

“Minnie…Binnie,” you address them ever so sweetly as they approach.

Changbin arches a suspicious eyebrow, Seungmin grins.

“How do you guys feel about a pit stop at the mall?”

“What for?” Changbin asks, unlocking the car doors.

“I need to pick up something.”

No, you don’t.

“Sure,” Seungmin agrees.

You smile at him in return and get into the backseat.

“I have a strict food court tax, as the driver,” Changbin informs you while starting up the car.

Your smile widens. That’s just perfect. Another pit stop.

“I got you, Binnie Boo.”

Changbin scrunches up his face at the nickname.

“Oh, but if I were Hyunjin, you’d eat that right up.” You roll your eyes.

“Well, yeah,” he admits without hesitation. “That’s the love of my life.”

He holds a straight face for a second before breaking out into a smile and you all laugh as he backs out of the parking space.

Your detour to the mall ends up taking three hours. It’s officially Halloween day so the inside is crowded with parents and their young children trick-or-treating at the stores. Just as planned, you all end up stopping at various stores along the way to the one you need to get to (you’ve no idea which, but it’s okay). Changbin gets a hat from LIDS. Seungmin buys a bracelet from a kiosk. Then you all head for the arcade and when they’re planted in the seats of a race car game, you leave them there for a bit to complete your imaginary errand. You go to a nearby clothing store and pick out a new pair of jeans and a couple of form fitting tops, remembering the suggestions Jeongin had for you what feels like forever ago.

Hyunjin reaches out to see where you are. Chan does not.

When you meet back up with them you go to the food court and get Changbin a meal from Hot Dog On A Stick at his request, and treat yourself and Seungmin to pretzels from Auntie Annie’s, even though he didn’t ask for anything. After you kill some more time eating, the three of you stop at Spencer’s to see what kind of odd items they have on display.

There are shirts with suggestive images and phrases, lollipops and shot glasses shaped like dicks, sex card games, drinking games, and even vibrators and anal plugs tucked away in the back corner. You each purchase something wildly inappropriate (you make sure to checkout when they’re both preoccupied to avoid judgement or teasing for your items) and then decide to leave the mall.

There’s a smug look on your face as you check the time—it’s nearly 7:00pm now.

Mission success.

The drive home takes an additional twenty minutes and when you enter the neighborhood, trick-or-treaters are walking the sidewalks. You convince Changbin to drive around so you can look at everyone’s exterior decorations because another ten minutes won’t hurt.

It’s 7:30 when you make it back to the house. Changbin has you and Seungmin exit the car first. He opens the garage door so Seungmin can back out the other Tesla that’s on the charger and swap it out for this one. You let them handle that and take your backpack and shopping bags into the house.

Jeongin and Charlotte are at the door passing candy out. Hyunjin, Han, Lee Know and Felix are in the living room, but you don’t see Chan. You set your bag by the stairs, wave to the couch surfers, get a wink from Hyunjin, and go to the kitchen, right in time to help Allie and Rhiannon make dinner.

You text Chan when dinner is done, but he tells you to bring up your plates. Plural.

You have a lot to lug up the stairs. You put your backpack on, slide your shopping bags onto your arms, then pick up the tray with your plates on it. When you make it to his door you kick it gently with your foot, but loud enough to be heard.

He opens it within seconds. You haven’t seen him all day, so the sight of him in dark jeans and a tucked-in, light blue, pinstriped button up shirt with the top two buttons undone makes you forget what you’re even doing. He’s wearing two different styles of earrings again—a thick silver hoop on his right ear and what looks like silver links on his left. Your eyes fall to the necklace and the silver infinity pendant resting on his skin. He takes the tray from you and steps aside.

“Thank you,” you say, snapping out of your daze.

You’ve never seen him dressed up in this way before. What was he doing all day? He probably went to church to ask forgiveness for the things he’ll do to you tonight.

He shuts the door behind you and sets the tray on his bed as you start to walk towards your own. Before you can reach it, his hand grabs your left wrist, spins you around and pulls you towards him.

What’s with these men doing that to you? And why do you like it so much?

The breath is knocked out of you as you collide with his chest, the shopping bags falling from your right arm. The bag on your left is held in place where his hand is holding your wrist. You slowly bring your eyes up, lingering on that necklace and the skin beneath it, then to his eyes.

“What did you need to get from the mall?” He asks in a low tone.

You resist the urge to arch an eyebrow. So, if he hadn’t texted you about where you were this afternoon…he must have reached out to Seungmin or Changbin instead.

“Stuff,” you reply, hardening your gaze. “Did you need me for something?”

You know there’s now only three and a half hours until midnight. Until November. And you still need to eat, and shower—plus he has an early morning class on Wednesday. Oops. Must have slipped your mind.

It didn’t.

“I had plans for you,” he replies calmly. “What did you have to get?”

It’s none of his business, really.

Not accepting your silence, he looks down at the bag on your wrist. You’re not sure which one fell to the floor, but you silently pray it was the one from Spencer’s.

He lets go of your wrist and removes the bag from it, then holds the bag up in front of you.

“Spencer’s, huh?”

You watch, cursing yourself mentally as he reaches inside the bag. You had felt so damn smug about returning home late and now this is your karma. You can feel the tides changing already, knowing what he is about to discover.

The first thing he pulls out is the deck of cards with “Naughty Party” written on it.

His eyes flicker from the deck of cards to you and you feel your face flush.

He reaches in the bag again and you pray he doesn’t see or feel a particular item you purchased. When his hand comes out of the bag again, this time he’s holding a large pink and purple, cotton candy flavored, dick shaped lollipop. You quickly snatch the bag from him as his eyes light up with laughter.

“That was just an extra stop…I didn’t specifically go there for…” your eyes move to the lollipop and card game in his hand, “that.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he replies as if he doesn’t believe you.

“We should eat before the food gets cold,” you say, tentatively walking backwards until you’re near your bed. You place the bag down and your backpack on top of it, wanting the other item in the bag to remain hidden.

He sits on his own bed, opening the deck of cards. He uses the stick end of the dick lollipop to cut through the shrink wrap securing it.

“I’m actually not that hungry anymore,” he declares. And just like that, he has the upper hand again. “You ate at the food court, right?”

Jesus Christ, do all the members report back to him with everything you do? Or did he ask? The former would make you annoyed…the latter makes you feel disgustingly warm inside.

He sets the trash and lollipop aside and opens the box to take out the cards. You sit on your bed, watching his amused face as he looks through the deck. He separates them on the bed into the five piles you read on the back—icebreaker, foreplay, naughty, kinky, and drink or dare.

He stands from his bed, picks up the tray with your now abandoned dinner on it and puts it on his desk. He then walks to your bed and holds out his hand to you. You place yours in his with a quiet sigh.

He leads you to his bed, bringing you to stand in front of him. He rests his hands on your hips and leans over your shoulder, his cheek just barely touching yours.

“No icebreakers or drinking,” he makes his own rules, of course. “Pick a card.”

That leaves only foreplay, naughty or kinky. Which is the lesser of the three evils you’ve gotten yourself into? You pick up the foreplay card.

He leans over you more to see what it says, gripping your hips, holding you against him. Your heartbeat picks up as he rubs the side of his face against yours. You want to lean back into him, to tell him to forget the game and just do what he wants with you—but this is what he wants now.

“What does it say?” He asks.

“You are desperately trying to get better grades in class. Your partner is…” you stop reading, eyes widening at the words.

“Your partner is your teacher,” Chan continues for you. You can hear the smile in his words. “Convince them to give you a good grade.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, cringing and simultaneously wanting to vomit at the idea of roleplaying. Roleplaying with Chan, no less.

His hands fall from your hips, and you feel him backing away from you. You keep your eyes closed, wanting to kick yourself for even purchasing this game. This is not how you thought tonight to go, and this is not how you intended to use the deck of cards. Karma circled back around quick for your defiant behavior today.

You hear him shuffling around behind you, opening and closing drawers. Then the room falls silent.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Chan says.

You toss the card onto the bed and let out a deep breath. You open your eyes and spin around.

Chan is leaning against his dresser, a pair of circular, gold framed glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose, a red book with gold letters on the cover in his hand. The props combined with the outfit he’s wearing, are perfect for his ‘character’. The sight almost makes you smile—if you weren’t so fucking nervous. You chew on your bottom lip, not knowing what to say or do.

“Ah, y/n.” Chan begins for you. “What brings you to my office?”

He has a teasing smile on his face. You take a step forward and clear your throat.

“Well, Cha—“

He shoots a stern look at you, one brow arched.

“I mean, Professor Bang,” you correct. “I wanted to talk about my grade in your class.”

He snaps the book shut and sits it on the dresser. He pushes his glasses up.

“Ah, yes. They’re not quite what I expected from you,” he says, crossing his legs, then his arms in front of his chest.

You feel silly. So silly. You can’t help but appreciate how serious he’s being. It encourages you to get more into it.

“I know,” you look down at your feet and take a few more steps forward. “Things have been really hectic with work and school; I haven’t been able to keep up with the assignments.”

“I see,” he says flatly. “I wish you’d come to me sooner, it’s too late in the semester now. I don’t think there’s anything you can do about it at this point.”

You slowly look back up at him, trying your best to make your eyes look sad. You chew on your bottom lip again, this time as part of the act.

“Please, sir.”

His lip quirks at the corner hearing that, but he keeps a straight face.

“I can’t fail this class,” you shake your head, walking forward until there’s only a few feet between you. “I know you’re an understanding teacher. There must be something I can do. Some kind of extra credit.”

His eyes fall from your head to your toes, then back up again. Part of you wishes you’d had on better clothing rather than a jacket and jeans. Though—you had rushed to get ready this morning after untangling yourself from Hyunjin and only have on a sports bra beneath the jacket. You could use that to your advantage.

“I’m sorry, y/n, I really don’t think that’s possible.” He shakes his head.

You force out a sad sigh as you bring your hand up to your jacket zipper. You start to pull it down, watching his face, watching his eyes move from yours down to the skin slowly being revealed.

“Sir, I really can’t fail this class,” your tone actually sounds desperate. You stop the zipper just beneath your navel.

“I really don’t think this is appropriate, y/n,” he tells you.

You tentatively close the distance between you. He’s looking directly at your exposed cleavage as you approach. You reach out for the buttons on his shirt.

“I’ll do anything to pass this class, Professor Bang,” you say, emphasizing his oddly fitting last name.

You tentatively undo one button, looking from your hands at work, then back up to him.

You’re not sure how far he’ll go into character, if he’ll try to stop you. You’re also not sure where this sudden confidence emerged from. You’ve never seduced anybody before, you don’t know what you’re doing. The fact that he’s playing along makes it a little more comfortable. The plus side to this debacle is that it’s good practice for next month.

That’s how you have to look at this. You can make this work for your long-term goal. You can give him a night he won’t forget with this act. Something he’ll want more of. Something he’ll want to experience with you again.

You fight against the smile threatening to give away the villainous plan that’s just been sparked in your head.

You’ve got two buttons undone and he hasn’t stopped you. You push up onto your tiptoes, moving your mouth closer to his.

“Anything,” you whisper, letting your lips brush against his.

You kiss along his jawline as your hands keep working on the buttons. You tug on the shirt to pull it out of his pants to finish unbuttoning it, nipping at his neck.

“I could get fired for this,” he says.

With his shirt unbuttoned you slide your hands up his chest, to his shoulders.

“I swear I won’t tell anyone,” you say, pushing his shirt down. You lay a trail of kisses from his right shoulder, across his collarbone, to his left shoulder, while your hand tugs at the button on his jeans, then the zipper.

His hands grip your hips. You slip a hand beneath his boxers. His cock is already hard when you cup it, and it feels like the biggest win.

“I promise.” You hook a finger under his chain. You stand flat on your feet and use the chain to bring him down towards you as you squeeze his cock. His eyes bore into you as he licks his lips. You’d give anything to know what he’s thinking right now. Is this really working? “It’ll be our little secret.”

His mouth crashes against yours and he lets out a groan, pulling your hips against him.

As expected, his lips on yours instantly makes you feel ravenous. You run your hands along his chest as his tongue enters your mouth, caressing yours. You’ve missed the taste of him—not that your time with Hyunjin wasn’t amazing, but the unknown and unaddressed feelings between you and Chan make your intimacy equally pleasing for drastically different reasons.

You push away from him when it becomes too much, needing to take a breath. He seizes the opportunity to finish unzipping your jacket.

“You left the house like this?” His tone is rough and accusatory and makes you wonder if the roleplay is finished. “In just a bra and jacket?”

“Yes,” you’re hesitant to reply.

His lips are back on your skin, leaving a trail of heat as he kisses along your neck while removing your jacket. You tilt your head to the side and arch your back, wanting more of his touch.

“No shirt,” he continues, unzipping the sports bra at the front. “That’s the kind of student you are?”

His hands are on your hips again and he guides you back a little. You drop your hands from his chest and stare up at him, silent. He slides the straps of the bra off your shoulders. As soon as the air hits your nipples you feel them tighten.

He lets out a low breath at the sight. You both remain still.

“I thought you were a good girl, y/n.”

You’re not sure when he took the upper hand again, but you’re thankful for a moment to not think of what your ‘character’ would say and just bask in the feeling of his lustful eyes on you.

“Show me what you’ll do for your grade,” he says, reaching out to cup your breasts. He pinches your nipples between his fingers, making you moan.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and start to pull them down along with his jeans, lowering yourself to your knees. He steps out of them, and you look up. The only remaining item of clothing he has on is his shirt. It’s halfway off, hanging from his biceps—broad, sculpted shoulders and ripped abdomen on full display. You move your hands to his cock, lightly caressing it with your fingertips.

You hold the base with one hand and use your other to glide your pointer finger across the tip until that clear fluid starts to emerge. You lean forward and take him into your mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you push forward to take in as much of him as you can. He grips your hair with both hands, pulling on the strands while you flick your tongue from side to side along the bottom of his shaft.

You squeeze your cheeks together, sucking hard as you pull off his cock, causing a loud popping sound when it comes out.

“I want you to fuck my mouth, Professor Bang,” you say, looking up at him as you readjust yourself on your knees.

His jaw clenches and his eyes light up as he tightens his grip on your hair. He positions your mouth back over his cock. You take a deep breath and open wide. He holds your head in place while his hips thrust forward and backwards, slowly at first, then faster and deeper. It takes every bit of concentration to keep your gag reflex in check as his cock slides further down your throat.

It’s messy. There’s saliva all around your mouth, probably dripping down your chin. He likes it this way. He's grunting and groaning, and you love the sounds he makes. You love that he’s making these sounds while he’s in your mouth. Only you can give him this pleasure. This Chan is not an asshat. This Chan wants you. Needs you. You rub your hands up and down his thighs, scratching lightly with your nails.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants each time he thrusts.

When he pulls all the way out, you lean forward to take him in your mouth again, but he stops you. He’s breathing heavily and with the way he’s gripping his cock, you can tell he almost came.

The amount of self-control he has in these moments is concerning. At least for the goal you’ve set to accomplish next month.

He motions for you to stand, and you do. You use the back of your hand to wipe your chin.

He unbuttons and unzips your pants, pushing them down halfway and having you do the rest. As soon as you’ve stepped out of them, he grabs you by the waist and picks you up. His grip on you is firm, yet effortless, as he turns around to sit you on the dresser.

You love this dresser. It might be your favorite dresser in the world.

He adjusts you so you’re close to the edge and spreads your legs apart. He keeps his hands on your knees, bending down slightly to get eye level with your pussy.

It's in these moments that you know. No matter how he treats you any other time of day—the look in his eyes right now says so much. He wants you in a way you’ve never been wanted before. Whether or not that extends to anything other than a physical connection is for you to worry about later.

He slides his pointer finger along your folds, then rubs circles around your clit. He looks up to catch your eye. There’s a playful glint there when he speaks.

“You’ve worked your way up to a C,” he announces, stepping back.

You scoff and bite back a smile.

He turns around and walks to the bed, leaving you spread open on his dresser. He picks up the dick-shaped lollipop from the bed.

“That’s not what I bought that for,” you say as he pulls the wrapper off, walking back to you.

With one look he silences you and lets you know he doesn’t give a fuck what you bought it for. It’s his now, and so are you. He can do what he likes.

When he’s in front of you again, he pushes the lollipop against your lips. You resist for a moment.

“Do you want to fail my class, y/n?”

Your eyes are on him, but his are on your mouth as you shake your head and drop your jaw. He pushes the lollipop into your mouth, and you close your lips around it. It’s a nice contrast from the salty taste of him lingering there. The cotton candy flavor fills your mouth as he slowly moves it in and out. When he pulls it out, you already know what’s coming next, and you don’t know how to feel about it.

He puts one hand on your stomach, pressing down until you lean back against the mirror. He slides the lollipop down your chin and neck, stopping to circle your nipples, making them sticky then licking them clean. He then lowers it between your legs, pressing it against your center to moisten the tip before sliding it around your folds.

His focus is entirely on what he’s doing; watching intently as he pushes the dick-shaped lollipop into you. You squirm on the dresser, trying to push aside thoughts of what it will take to clean yourself after this. The packaging said it was safe for internal use, but again, this was not what you had in mind for it. When he leans forward and sucks your clit into his mouth, though, you don’t have to try anymore. Your only thoughts are of what you’re going to do without this for a month.

Though, technically, you can receive…right? You’ll have to clarify the rules later.

Chan kisses his way up your stomach, nipping as he gets to your breasts, then full on biting when he’s at your neck. And they’re not soft bites either. You moan loudly, always in depravity when you’re with him. You’re not sure there’s anything he could do to you that you wouldn’t like. And that thought scares you.

The bites at your neck turn into sucks and you lean into it, knowing he’s marking you. He pulls himself away before he can do too much damage, breathing heavily and resting his head on your shoulder as he keeps moving the lollipop in and out of you.

Your hand makes its way beneath his chin to lift his head up and make him look you in the eye. You cup the back of his neck and pull his mouth to yours. You part your lips and your tongue dashes out, seeking his, letting him taste the mixture of himself and the cotton candy flavor. You arch your back until your breasts meet his chest, hardened nipples poking at this skin. He groans into your mouth as you suck on his tongue.

“I want an A, Professor,” you say, pushing him away.

A low growl escapes his mouth as he reclaims your mouth. He withdraws the lollipop from you as he kisses you deeply and messily. His lips and tongue are everywhere, uncontrolled. He grips your hip with one hand, pulling you closer until your center is pressed against his stomach

When he breaks the kiss, he lets out another long, low breath and shakes his head. You want to know so badly what’s he’s thinking. You want him to vocalize how much he wants you. How much he needs you to please him.

He takes a small step back, lollipop still in hand. You watch as he brings it to his mouth, parts his lips and slides it inside. You don’t know why, but it makes you feel better about the whole predicament watching him take the candy phallus into his mouth. You can see him swirling his tongue around it, taking your juices off of it.

He slides you off the dresser to your feet, removing the lollipop from his mouth and placing it on the dresser. He leans down and cups your face, kissing you softly and briefly. He taps you on the ass and nudges you towards the bed.

You crawl on the bed as soon as you reach it and start to turn around. He’s right behind you. His hands land on your hips to hold you in place, keeping you on all fours near the edge of the bed. He’s silent, pressing his cock against you as his hands roam freely up and down your back.

You’re not expecting it, so when he withdraws a hand and delivers a hard smack to your ass you tense up, then moan. The pain he delivers always feels good.

He grips your hips once more and positions himself at your opening, slowly sliding inside of you.

You let your head hang down as you savor the feeling. You missed this. You will continue to miss it if he doesn’t break. He rests in you for a moment, hands still gripping your hips tightly while he’s completely buried in you.

When he pulls out, you brace yourself. He thrusts forward, hard and deep, groaning. You love how vocal he is when he fucks you, too. He doesn’t do feelings, he doesn’t do words, but he makes sounds. He makes it apparent how much he likes the feeling of his cock inside you.

“Arch your back,” he says, moving his hand to the middle of your back and pressing down lightly.

You spread your legs further apart and turn your face on the side to rest your head on the mattress. You arch your back, moaning as the adjusted position allows him to sink deeper into you.

He continues to slowly withdraw then thrust into you quickly, repeating the motion again and again. The cards left on the comforter spill onto the floor as your joint aggression rocks the bed. When you start to move your hips back against him, he picks up the pace, thrusting harder, deeper. He leans forward to reach around your hips and rub your clit. The sound of your thighs connecting to his, yours shared moans, his grunts, fill the quiet room. You fuck him back, panting as you feel your release approaching.

“Professor Bang,” you manage to get out, gripping the sheets, thrusting back against him even harder. “Can I come?”

Roleplay or not, you haven’t forgotten his basic rules.

He chuckles, taking his other hand off your hip to grab your breast, using it for leverage to pull you back on to him.

“I don’t know…” he teases breathlessly, “Can you?”

“May I?” You correct, squeezing your eyes shut as if it will help you hold back.

“You may,” he says, releasing your breast to spank you again.

He keeps rubbing your clit and slapping your ass every few thrusts. The stinging pain combined with the feel of his cock pumping in and out of you reaches its peak. You bite your bottom lip to keep from full on wailing. You bite so hard you break the skin, feeling the taste of copper in your mouth as you try to stifle your moan.

“Chan,” you pant, “I’m coming. I’m coming!”

Your words are breathless as you push back against him with all your might and let your orgasm course through you.

He doesn’t stop his movements until you reach back with your hand, pressing it against his stomach. He slows his thrusts little by little before pulling out of you completely.

The hand holding you up and your thighs shake until they give out. You fall onto the bed with a satisfied sigh. He’s still standing behind you, taking slow, deep breaths. You look over your shoulder to see him stroking his cock. How is he still holding back?

“This is just practice, y/n.” He announces, seeing the look on your face.

Fuck, you’ve got your work cut out for you.

“Do I at least get an ‘A’?” You ask.

“Solid B+,” he says with a smile.

“Fuck you, Professor,” you laugh.

He stops stroking himself, sits on the bed and delivers another smack to your ass.

“Eat,” he commands.

“What about you?” You ask curiously.

“I have two and a half hours left ‘til midnight,” he says. “Eat quick.”

When you wake up Wednesday morning, you’re actually kinda thankful to be getting a break. Chan fucked you, and fucked you, and fucked you some more last night. You didn’t think it would ever end, but you had no complaints at the time. This morning, however, your body is feeling it. Your thighs feels like strangers to one another after spending so much time spread apart, with either his cock or mouth between them.

Later, everyone gathers in the basement and Seungmin unveils two large pieces of paper. The first has each member’s name on it, the second has all the girls’ names and their assigned members. Score boards.

“Anytime a member puts money into the pot or breaks, we will keep track of it here,” Seungmin says.

“And you guys don’t lie or try to cheat?” Allie asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“No reason to,” Seungmin says. “It’s just for fun, remember?”

It’s hard for you to imagine they see this as fun. Though perhaps they all just want to strive for the win and feel like an alpha male, beating out their other members.

“Who won last year?” You ask.

The members are silent, looking amongst each other.

“I’ve won the last three years in a row,” says the voice that was moaning and groaning in your ear last night. Your eyes meet with Chan’s and suddenly your heart and aspirations sink. How the fuck are you gonna get him to break then?

a/n: I'm using the 2023 calendar for this so if there's any confusion it's now Wednesday, November 1st in the story. More soon! Likes, reblogs & comments make the tumblr world go 'round <3

[ read chapter thirteen here ]

tag list:

@iflmho / @stayatinykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie /@conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland /@hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy /@ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @teti-menchon0604 / @you-make-skz-stay / @zandra-42 / @seungminindabuilding / @slytherinatheart / @loveuwoo /@hyunjinhoexxx / @chartrucewhore / @torothecatt /@fun-fanfics / @yaorzu-blog/ @yjeonginlvr/ @tenshimara / @a-person-with-void / @ilovetheworldilivein / @dhillomilo /@skzfelixlove / @luvvvash / @blondechannie

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan imagines #bangchan smut #bangchan fanfic #bang chan

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sugusoneandonly · 2 months

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Quixotic - STSG - ch 1

satosugu x fem!reader . ft. model!gojo & designer!geto

!! do not repost/copy on any other platform !! if u do at least lmk where and give creds 😒 !! pls don’t tho <3

cw: power dynamics/imbalance?? ,, established!stsg (no cheating) ,, webtoon inspired & lwk self-indulgent 😞 ,, y/n may be unlikable idk ntm on her guys 🥰

exes to lovers (gojo) ,, one-sides enemies to lovers w geto ,, very feminine + slight meek reader??

a/n!! :: hi this is my first fic ,, have mercy <33

some prior info for now i will add more later (and clean it up)

- not much of an age gap, suguru is js very successful at a young age.

- takes place 2 years after their breakup (mc | satoru)

- y/n is currently a fashion major in her final year of college and fortunately lives near her college and the shadowing program.

- the general plot is y/n is shadowing (following around, studying, etc. not rlly working for him

- NOTTT really real life accurate 🥰

Had you known that coming across your biggest idol would come along with meeting your oh so beloved ex, you would’ve thrown away whatever dreams had clouded your ambitious mind. Yet lo and behold, in front of you stood one of the most renowned fashion designers in the industry with your ex-boyfriend hanging off of him as a price tag (a very expensive tag for that matter).

Suguru Geto stood with pride as his spine and extravagance as his feet, hair that could’ve been painted with the midnight sky half up while the rest cascaded down his back. With an arm on his shoulder, and hair that would make the moon had Suguru’s been the sky, stood Satoru Gojo, your beloved ex. Both men dressed to the nines, outfits that were worth your monthly rent each.

You had cursed the creak of the door that had announced your entrance when you saw them. Gojo however, remained unaware of the stress that climbed your body. Instead, his lifted his eyes to meet yours, blinking back yet letting a small grin tickle his face. “Y/N!” his voice had drawn Suguru’s eyes to follow his line of sight like a siren.

Now, you and Gojo hadn’t had a horrendous break-up (although it’s after affects on you weren’t quite so), in fact it was rather peaceful (while it lasted). Gojo had called your 2 years of love off when he decided that he wanted to pursue a bigger, grander, future, one that apparently hadn’t included you. While he had wanted to go out, meet new people, flitter about the industry, the strain of a relationship had left awkward stains on his work. Especially certain modeling gigs that made him some extra cash.

It was your final year out of college and as one of the top students in your major, you had been provided a shadowing opportunity with various fashion designers to mentor the new rising generation of fashion. However, the pairings were randomized and the last person you’d expect to be yours was one of the greatest and youngest designers, who was also rumored to be your exes lover. How romantic. You had come across Geto’s work originally in a magazine for your project, and had looked him up online. While doing your extended research, you had seen the bright face of Gojo on several of his posts wearing his designs. Immediately you fell in love with his success, ethic, and designs. Dresses so intricate and suits embellished, as if they had walked straight of the manhwas you read.

Geto’s brow had raised at the mention of your name, no doubt familiar with it and the story that may have came with it. His eyes pierced through you, a small hum and what appeared to be a shadow of discontent danced over his face before it went away. He had leaned closer into Gojo after a thorough inspection of you. the rumors hold true then

“Hi.” slipped through your lips at last, however, meek. You feel 12 again showcasing your painting to the old judges in an art contest. Not an ounce of professionalism. Perhaps it wasn’t to late to run out yet.

“Y/N? I heard lots about you” Suguru’s voice came out like silk drowned in a snakes hiss, anxiety bubbled in your blood. “Good things I hope..I look forward to working with you..?” His lack of facial response had you lost in which direction to move this conversation. Instead of a response he simply hummed at looked back at the paper in his hands. Gojo, just as awkward standing beside him.

I wanna go home

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #geto suguru #jjk suguru #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #geto x gojo x reader #gojo x reader x geto #reader x geto #gojo x geto x reader #satosugu x reader #stsg x reader fluff #stsg x reader angst

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eddies-house · 9 months

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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter One - Damn Mailbox

W/C: 5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Relocating to the small town of Knife’s Edge in hopes of leaving your old life behind and starting brand new solves all of your problems, right? Wrong. It only creates more and one of them may live right next door. Side effects may include blaring music at 3AM, a scowling neighbor, and one too many shots of tequila on several occasions. (That The Bourbon will not be comping.)

A/N: I'm super excited to start this lil series, I've had this idea for a little while and I can never resist writing total opposites, it's just so fun to explore their dynamic when they want to reject each other so bad. Also a lot of this fic is inspired by Smoke Signals by Phoebe Bridgers (hence the name). As always I would love your feedback and any comments y’all have 🙂 OH and finally...the hugest largest biggest thank you to @uglypastels for beta reading and proof reading and all that good stuff, it was SO appreciated and really helped smooth things out ILY Z YOU'RE SO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO 💜

Masterlist

Morning dew was like an old friend, someone you hadn’t paid attention to since childhood but felt so familiar with, so…safe. Maybe it was a little too ridiculous to find security in a few dew drops but arriving in a new town with a population of less than five hundred would have that effect. Twists and turns of windy roads unknown, trees larger than any house, and barely any infrastructure would all frazzle anyone not accustomed to its elements. Normally you wouldn’t get car sick but these roads were a beast you’d never encountered before in your life, stomach threatening to send back your lunch of tuna on white bread and a bag of Doritos. You refused to let bile even trace your tongue so with just enough self control, you swallowed any sickness down and pushed forward. Now you were hunched over in the driver’s seat, the door open as you sucked in the fresh mountain air, perfect lengthy blades of grass grazing the bottom of the door. Just before you, up the driveway made up of damp dirt, was home. A home you were a stranger to at the moment but hoped to at least become acquaintances with. Lower expectations created less disappointment. If you dive in head first, you can only guarantee yourself vulnerability and pain, slow and steady was the only pace.

It’s not permanent; you are just figuring things out.

It’s what you kept preaching to yourself during the altitude change, where flatter land transformed into large mountains, the tallest peaks coated in white. Where your ears popped and your brain felt pressure. And then shortly after, you were submerged deep into the forests, far from home, where you knew there was no going back for quite some time. It was a trial run although it didn’t feel that way when the moving truck packed with your life pulled up just minutes after you, delivering every piece of your life to some cabin in a secluded town that was nearly invisible on any map. Temporary was starting to feel foreign when everything felt more set in stone.

You’d think a town called ‘Knife’s Edge’ would steer you away and maybe that was the intent when it was first named; to ward off newcomers who had no business being out in the woods. But it only intrigued you. From what you could find out in a few tourism magazines, Knife’s Edge was not somewhere you went for a getaway, not according to the locals who were a tight knit community where everyone knew everyone. The economy relied on the small businesses down in The Village, on Main Street which according to your calculations was about five miles down the road and around the lake then up. That was the extent of knowledge you’d had on your new home and yes, maybe you should have gathered more information before daring to even place a down payment on some random cabin in the woods but when a new start calls, you either answer the phone or stare at it until nothing happens. The cabin was either yours if you paid the down payment or it would’ve been torn down and sold to the neighbor for more land which would’ve sent you on your way again, on a wild goose chase for a new place that you could fit into. Not that you were too sure that you’d even fit in here. But it seemed too obvious that this was where you were meant to be when the realtor advised that it was yours at a low down payment, a steal. So you’d try to make it work.

The moving truck’s door startled you, slamming against the top as two men got to work, unloading all your belongings. You figured this was your cue to exit your beat-up sedan to unlock the front door–wide-paneled and made of a beautiful dark oak. The crunch of pebbles and dirt alerted the movers to your presence where you let them know you were going to open up so they could begin their tedious process, one of them grumbling something incoherent in response. As you approached even closer, there were knicks and dents decorating the surface of the door but it seemed to add to the essence. The wooden steps creaked underneath your weight and upon glancing around the porch, you found two well built rocking chairs that the previous owner must have left behind. Other than that, there were pine needles and other debris from the surrounding nature caked in the corners, some scattered along the rest of the floor that would need to be swept up but it wasn’t an urgent task in comparison to actually setting up your bed and other necessities.

The lock was stubborn as you twisted the key but with one more persistent shove and turn, it clicked and you were able to push your way in, the hinges painfully squeaking as you made a mental note to pick up some WD40. The air inside was stale, smelling of dust and maybe a half hearted spritz of air freshener. Or maybe it was drenched in air freshener but it did little to nothing to cover up the smell of an old abandoned cabin; you weren’t sure. It was a modest size, the kitchen off to the right, tucked into the corner with a small island in the center. The living room was the first room you walked into from the front, the floorplan more open than you’d expected. A little to the left was a narrow hallway with shutter doors lining both sides, you assumed one side had to be the laundry. The door at the end had to be the bedroom and the door just before you embark into the hall had to be the bathroom but you had no time to explore right now.

Morning light trickled in through the kitchen window just above the stove, creating a beautiful hue against the wood paneling of the walls which you only noticed as you came back in, setting a box that was labeled ‘kitchen’ on the counter before rushing back out to retrieve more of your belongings. It was too early to be doing such strenuous work but that's what you get for securing a slot with the moving company first thing in the morning. In hindsight, you didn’t realize you were signing yourself up to meet said moving truck at 6:00 AM but in your defense, you’d never done this before.

By 7:00 AM the truck was fully unloaded and on its way out and with it went the grumpy movers, more than likely unsatisfied with the fact that they’d have to trek back down the mountain. You graciously offered them an extra twenty bucks which they gladly took but still appeared crabby nonetheless. Now for the part you had been dreading the most: unpacking each box and putting everything in its respective place. But first, you wanted to take it all in. You were right; the laundry was on the left side of the hall behind the shutter door and on the other side was a closet. The bedroom was settled right where you had guessed, at the end of the hall and rather than being empty, it now held your bed and mattress, sheets still yet to be found among the boxes labeled ‘bedroom’ in thick sharpie. The wallpaper was something you could do without but maybe you’d find time to peel it off later and replace it with something more to your taste. Currently the bedroom walls were lined with floral designs and pale blue stripes and if you could be honest, the design was a bit too busy for your liking. But it was a roof over your head for a good price so complaining was out of the equation.

At the opposite end of the hall, just off the living room was the bathroom, sporting a less off putting wallpaper of faded yellow and white vertical stripes. You first ensured your hygiene essentials were in place, toothbrush and toothpaste in a glass on the sink, towels on the rack, and soaps set up in the shower including shampoo, conditioner, and bar of Dove. Having these accessible was a priority, cleanliness being one of the most important factors of your daily routine.

Clothes were next and you’d forgotten a box in your trunk of your most worn items of clothing that you could pick through until you were fully settled. Lazily carrying yourself back to the driveway where your maroon sedan sat on top of the copper-toned dirt, you do a double take when you realize your mailbox was taken out, wood splintering out of the ground as the poor box lays among the grass at the edge of the street. From what you could remember, it was fully intact when you first drove up so you’re forced to conclude that the movers you’d tipped generously must have run it over and not given it a second thought.

The half of the mailbox that rested on the ground was a lot heavier than it looked and you would’ve thought it was made of cement just by the weight. You felt pathetic dragging it up the driveway, creating a prominent line in the dirt along the way. A brief break in getting the damn thing up to your porch has you about half way up the driveway, glancing around at your surroundings, only to finally take into account that you had a neighbor relatively close by, a cabin similar to yours only a few hundred yards away except it was a darker wood and a red pickup sat idle in front of it.

You braced yourself, catching your breath to continue hauling the mailbox back until you can figure out how to repair it when your eyes catch on figure, a man making his way down the steps of the cabin you’d just been analyzing. And you’re quick to shy away until you realize he’d already been looking at you, a cocky grin on his face as he slowly, almost tauntingly stepped off his porch. The way he walked closer reminded you of a lion declaring its territory, especially with the mane of curls he had, shaggy and brunette. He wasn’t close enough to allow you to examine any further; however, you caught the click of his tongue before he spoke.

“Gonna get splinters draggin’ wood around like that.”

It’s all he says, a toothpick between his teeth before he turns on his heel, combat boot digging into the soil and it’s only then that you realize he wasn’t offering assistance, he was simply picking up the hose connected to his spigot to rinse off his windshield which now that he’d drawn attention to it, was filthy with mud and leaves. He wore a red and black flannel which reminded you of a lumberjack but this man just didn’t fit that description based on your short interaction with him. Or rather his interaction with you. Your first indication was that he had no facial hair; he was clean-shaven. And his tight jeans that had black rips at the knees didn’t seem very suitable for a job that required a larger range of motion.

Without any further acknowledgement of your existence, he hopped in his truck and sped off around the bend without a care in the world. He was a resident douchebag and you’d never even spoken a word to him. You quickly realized you were still stood in the middle of the driveway with half a mailbox, grunting in protest as you lugged it the rest of the way up to the porch, leaning it against the railing for future contemplation on how to repair it or if you’d have to fork up money for a brand new one. That was a problem for future you and though future you would be pissed at past you for putting the responsibility on her, you had other things to sort out such as unpacking the rest of the kitchen so you’d be able to actually use it to feed yourself. And then of course you’d have to make your way into town a ways down the road to actually get groceries because not a crumb of anything edible was packed. Aside from a bag of Chex Mix that sat in the passenger seat of your car that you’d picked up at a gas station.

–

Going overboard was an understatement when it came to how much you’d actually gotten done. By 12:00 PM you almost had each room unpacked and put away, moving boxes discarded next to the front door to be thrown out later. Your plan was to finish off the kitchen and then go into town. Instead you finished the kitchen and moved from room to room with more motivation than you’d ever experienced in your life. Maybe it was the adrenaline of living alone, no one else could tell you what to do or where to put things. It was all up to you and maybe you were a little drunk off that power. Regardless, you were now worn out and that energy didn’t last very long. At least you had a freshly made bed for when you came back, that’s what you would reward yourself with.

If you go grocery shopping then you can come back and nap.

There were still various projects to be done, items to be organized, and objects without a home but for the most part, you could sleep peacefully with the work you’d done today. The floors were yet to be cleaned and the fridge still needed a good scrub down but that could wait until tonight after you properly refueled.

Humming to some song you’d heard on the radio earlier, you make your way out the door, patting your pockets for your keys and wallet, both of which you had before locking up and heading for the car. You rolled your eyes passing the mutilated mailbox, settling into the driver’s seat with an ache in your back from the grueling labor in the early hours of the morning. Shifting into drive and then rapidly back to park, you remember that these roads are foreign to you and that you could easily get lost and possibly become a bear’s lunch with your luck. With a tug, the glove box opens and reveals the map you had set in it before embarking on our journey. The map that was mailed to you of the town didn’t seem very complicated. But if you happened to make a wrong turn it could land you amongst some rocky cliffs which you thought better to stay away from. So you carefully examined the route to town, what the people here seemed to call The Village Square. You took the liberty of drawing your house on the map, a cute little doodle in blue gel pen and then proceeding to draw the rest of the route in the same blue so you’d always have it.

This was it. A fresh start where no one knew your name. This would be good for you. At least that's what you kept trying to convince yourself.

Goodbye someone else’s daughter and hello new self-made woman.

–

You weren’t lost. You were just…exploring.

Okay, you were a little lost but the signs for The Village Square kept passing you by and yet you found yourself also passing the same exact pine trees–and you knew they were the same pine trees because every time you saw them you thought ‘hey that kinda looks like a dog’. At some point it started to feel as if you were spawning in and out of some dimension until you finally turned into a lot directly behind one of the signs, sick of this game of hide and seek. There were no signs for parking which is why you’d passed by so many times in the first place, and now it seemed like you were behind a restaurant of some kind. This couldn’t be where everyone parked, right? Anxiety was pooling in your stomach and before you could sike yourself out, you ultimately decided to park and walk from here. You would only be a few minutes and hopefully you’d be able to muster up the courage to ask someone where to park from now on, even if it did make you seem like an idiot.

Leaves crunched under your sneakers, an obvious indication of the Fall season trickling one leaf at a time. As if you were a wary animal, you cautiously walked around the building, finding that it was someplace called The Bourbon; the letters written out in neon red lights that weren’t yet illuminated, the open sign in the window dull signifying they were closed. You let your eyes roam up and down the street, small businesses lined up all the way through and a few patrons, clearly with an agenda making their way along the sidewalks. It was a cute place, nestled in a little valley. Instead of plain old cement the sidewalks were cobblestone and overall it seemed to be a pedestrian oriented community with several cross walks and barely any traffic.

From here you had no idea how to get to Marvin’s Grocery, which seemed to be one of the only produce stores around according to your map. The others were a little more out of the way, your house conveniently only around five miles away from The Village Square. The shops you passed as you attempted to gain a sense of direction were exquisite. Mom-and-pop shops that either smelled of delicious baked goods or hunger-inducing aromas that filled your nostrils with savory goodness. The smell would haunt you in the best way for days to come. A candle shop piqued your interest, as well as a flower shop that bloomed so beautifully among the muted tones of the brick buildings around it.

Everything was so unlike what you were used to, back home things were more commercialized, built for quantity not quality. Here it seemed to be the polar opposite which you could appreciate. Corporations were the root of all evil and you had yet to see one single corporation among the several businesses you passed so far. People seemed friendly but also confused by your presence, offering you a meaningful wave accompanied by a puzzled expression written on every face you encountered. You were a stranger and it was becoming more apparent the deeper you found yourself in the square. Some people whispered and you happened to snag onto a few words, mostly grasping ‘is she new?’. In return, you graced them with a polite smile. It wasn’t like you to initiate small talk or approach new friendships. If they happened, they happened per the other party’s account, not yours, never one to try and stand out in the crowd only making this infinitely more uncomfortable for you, which was no one’s fault other than your own insecurity.

Eventually you were able to come face to face with the giant ‘Marvin’s Grocery’ sign which looked to be handpainted in big white letters outlined in black with a few cartoony carrots, a tomato, and a head of lettuce. Wandering around for an extra ten minutes and refusing to ask for help certainly wasn’t ideal but it did familiarize you with the shops you would soon be buying from on the regular. And it did give you a soft introduction to the small population of Knife’s Edge which despite the name, the people seemed lovely enough.

The store wasn’t the slightest bit crowded and it wasn’t very large either. A mother and her two kids skimmed one of the aisles while an older man pondered over the produce, apples specifically. Grabbing a cart, you begin gathering the items you had sorted out on a list in your head. First bananas, grapes, and blueberries, you didn’t want to bother with too much produce as it went bad fast and you were only one person so those would do for now. Then you moved on to pantry essentials, canned goods that you could stock up on and always have on hand. Green beans, corn, peas, baked beans, even soups such as tomato, cream of mushroom, and the standard chicken noodle.

You’d built up a cart full in no time, and by then, no one else was around so you noted that this time would be perfect to get your shopping done in the future so as to avoid as many people as possible. The cashier was a woman, probably in her early sixties who seemed not all that intimidating which you were grateful for. She smiles warmly and you appreciate the sentiment, grinning back at her as you place each item at the register.

“You’re new. But I bet you’ve already had an earful of that, haven’t you?” She lightly teases.

You laugh softly, avoiding eye contact while still trying to remain well mannered, taking notice in small glances that the woman’s name tag reads Donnie in bold red letters as well as the ‘help wanted’ sign perched up against the window. She seems friendly, a little rough around the edges though in the sense that she had several tattoos that disappeared into the rolled up sleeve of her blue crewneck sweater as well as a fire in her icy blue eyes. You could already guess that she was quite the character.

“Don’t let them scare you off.” Donnie carefully bags the eggs with a few more light items, her confidence radiating, as if she doesn’t even need to try, as if it just comes to her so naturally. Something you could only wish for every once in a blue moon. “We don’t get many newbies. They’ll get it outta their system.” Her voice is a tad scratchy but smooth otherwise, bringing a strange sense of comfort.

“Thank you.” A mouse may as well have been louder than you but you tried and that’s what counts, right? New people were not your thing but they would have to become your thing, moving to a place where no one knew you existed and all. Or maybe you could fly under the radar? It couldn’t hurt to become the mysterious outsider that spoke to no one although it wasn’t a very realistic ambition.

This was fucked. You thought to yourself in the solitude of your brain. Of course the second thoughts were coming now and not before you bought the damn property that tied you to this place. Initially, the idea was a temporary situation far from home but the deeper you delved into this town, the more permanent it started to feel. Not just anyone up and moved here and that was clear by the reaction you pulled from several onlookers. And yet you moved here, bought that damn cabin with the money left to you from your father’s estate, and ultimately, left everything you knew in a manic state. A mid life crisis in your early twenties.

“Miss, your change.” The woman broke through your thoughts and you must have shifted into autopilot, not even remembering handing her any money in the first place.

“S-sorry.” You mutter, collecting the filthy coins in your palm, shoving them into the front pocket of your jeans which you knew would be a pain to dig out later but again, that was an issue for future you. She hated your guts.

“No prob–”

It was abrupt, your exit but despite your rude departure, she called out “I’m Donnie!” and you never felt like a shittier person. She was welcoming you to her home and you didn’t even have the decency to introduce yourself. That’s how it looked at least, on the inside you were panicking and needed to isolate yourself immediately.

You must have looked like a maniac carrying your groceries in a near sprint toward the direction of your car. Everyone else seemed to move at such a mellow pace, not a single vein close to popping out of stress whereas you looked like you’d crumble under the slightest inconvenience. Which you would if you didn’t get to the car fast enough. A small misstep causing you to trip? No chance, you wouldn’t show your face again for weeks. Your groceries spilling all over the pavement because of said possible misstep? You would consider moving all over again.

Thankfully the majority of the walk back to the little lot behind one of many businesses was blacked out, your heart practically pumping in your ear the whole time. What you couldn’t black out from was the man-the same man from this morning smoking a cigarette as he stared at your car. Fear drenched you; you couldn’t gauge his expression with his back to you but you could guess he wasn’t going to be smiling with the way he was lingering, shuffling his boots back and forth in contemplation.

Announcing yourself felt like the most daunting task in the world, humiliation melting into your skin like an uncomfortable burn. Maybe some higher power heard your pathetic struggle because the crunch of your sneaker on a perfectly placed leaf called his attention to you, his head snapping in your direction instantly.

The urge to just run was strong but you maintained whatever cool was left within you, fingers waving at him weakly.

His expression was blank, unreadable. He didn’t say a word as you slowly inched your way closer to the vehicle, only eyeing your every movement like a predator protecting his territory, much like he did that same morning. The closer view of his face showcased his stoic yet soft features, eyes almost puppy dog-like but something glazed over them, a facade of some kind. Something that overtook the puppy dog nature they were capable of and replaced them with a cruel glare. The shape of his nose was endearing at least, rounded at the tip and tinted pink from the cold.

“You just park anywhere you want where you’re from?” He asks, gesturing vaguely with a tip of his cigarette toward the car.

Your shaky breath has him furrowing his brows at you, seemingly offended. It’s not in your nature to offend people but you can’t seem to stop doing it, especially today whether you mean to or not. But you definitely don’t think you mean to.

“N-no, ‘m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He mocks, scoffing before inhaling a puff of smoke once more.

“I-I uh, I’m leaving. It won’t happen again.” You rush out, all the while forcing yourself not to cry. “I just–I couldn’t find parking–I was driving around and—there was no–I couldn’t–”

“Don’t let it happen again.” He warns, stern but easing up on his intense demeanor.

“Promise.” You whisper, a tear betraying you and rolling down your cheek to which you quickly gather your grocery bags in one hand to swat away at your cheek. It’s too late, he already saw.

No empathy is detected in his stare, not that you feel you deserve any. It was just an observation. “Now, get out of my lot.” It’s a demand, a non-negotiable demand that if you were brave enough to argue, would probably have him towing your shitty little sedan.

So you nod, blinking back the water works as best you could while tossing your groceries into the passenger seat, him watching the whole time. With your seatbelt suddenly feeling like the most complicated thing in the world, you expect to look up and meet pure rage but instead your ears perk up at a few knocks on the window. Rolling it down as fast as possible with the manual handle, the man stands towering over you, cigarette abandoned sometime in between you getting in the car and struggling to remember how a seatbelt works. Did he have more choice words for you for illegally parking on what he deemed ‘his lot’? You really didn’t want to stick around to find out but you had no choice.

“Left on Main. Then right on Cherry.” His dark eyes hinted at hues of warm honey but they were briskly dismissed by his cold attitude.

“What?”

“Next time. So you don’t turn into my damn lot again.”

You still didn’t know what he meant by ‘his lot’ and you didn’t have the backbone to ask. You did however fully get the message that you were to never park here again and were now aware of which streets to search for to avoid it at all costs. You’d memorize every detail of it if it meant you could steer clear of the apathetic man before you. With a nervous nod, you were off, not once looking back just as he did that morning except he had more grit in his actions, you just came off as a scared church mouse. You never even caught his name and you didn’t mind not knowing it at this rate seeing as he was all bite and bark for no good reason.

This place never felt so far from home. Nowhere was home. Your heart was in a sense homeless, lost and longing for the connections that these people had with each other that you couldn’t seem to tap into even if your life depended on it. In all fairness, it had only been a few hours and you couldn’t gauge your success based on that but it was tugging on your brain like a parasite, eating away at your final optimistic thoughts.

I don’t belong here.

I don’t fit in.

The drive ‘home’ was flooded with tears and muffled sobs into your now sticky sleeve, coated in snot and if anyone were to pass you along the way you would look psychotic with how your face scrunched up at every exhale, doing your best to keep yourself quiet despite being the only one in the car. You were always doing your best. Always to please others. And it never worked.

~end~

Masterlist

tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #bartender!eddie #eddie munson au #bartender!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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