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mikareo · 3 months

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“ ࣭⸰ ★ THE MOON SAYS HELLO. . . ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀呪術廻船; geto suguru x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . part one of three ꒱ . . . word count; 3.6k

⊹ ⠀⠀despite his insistence on never falling in love, suguru fails to stop himself from becoming smitten with his best friend’s beloved. you’ve become a flicker of hope in his darkness— though you’re someone who can never and will never be his to have and to hold.

series contains; if gojo didn’t kill geto n geto was given a chance to redeem himself, redemption arc!geto, human caretaker!reader, kind of e2l but also not really, love triangle, gojo x reader, fluff, major angst, heartbreak, wedding at the end, swearing probably, geto refers to humans as monkeys per usual author's note; rewritten fic, will be 3 parts in total (i'm half done pls be patient w me im a slow writer...)

YEAR ONE, DAY ONE

His face is sore. So sore. It’s red, swollen, and sore after he’s spent the last three hours screaming in frustration with his current predicament. This is absurd, Satoru should’ve just killed him when he had the chance. Geto’s lost count of how many times his palms have slapped his own face; over and over again with wishes that he can wake up from this hellish nightmare the higher ups call ‘rehabilitation’— though he can somewhat still recall the first slap that he’d given himself around the half-hour mark. He’s got a pretty good memory…that doesn’t stop him from hoping his veins aren’t too noticeable as they angrily protrude from his forehead in crimson currents.

He’d rather be dead than imprisoned like this…like an animal…like one of those damn useless monkeys.

The intensity of his wails continue to bounce off of the barren walls— barren aside from the dark mark he’d punched in earlier— and echo like a party of lost ghouls in the bottom of an empty well. Geto feels like a mad man.

He’s only just begun his isolation and he’s already growing mad with boredom.

A huff escapes his lips as he plops himself down onto the twin-sized bed that’s nestled in the corner of his so-called ‘suite’. With linen sheets and a dark maroon comforter, it’s almost a cozy living situation; in another life, Geto could imagine himself cuddling beneath the covers with his favorite book and a soft record playing in the background for some ambience. That world is far far away now. Even if he asked for a record player, he doubts the higher ups would grant him one. He’s their most valuable prisoner, and they’re sure to keep him as miserable as possible until he’s one-hundred-percent pure hearted once more. However, despite their reluctance to grant him the things he wants, these aren’t the worst living arrangements he’s ever encountered and he knows that Gojo did his best to give him the best commodities he could to…well…a highly dangerous criminal.

This is the only path to forgiveness, he reminds himself, constantly trying to be optimistic about the utter absurdity of it all.

Optimism hasn’t been his specialty in a long time; anyone with a working pair of eyes would be able to deduce that, and he despises it. He’s quite rusty with the characteristic and has looked on the darker side for a while now— but wishes that he could be as reckless as he once was as a teenager. He can vividly remember how loud his laughter was with Gojo and Shoko, laughing as they chased each other throughout the school yard and using each other's cursed energy to their advantage in games of tag— but that would be near impossible now. His two best friends can barely look him in the eyes after the treason he’s committed. Gojo views him as a ticking time bomb and Shoko’s healed too many people to count that he’s harmed.

If he stepped one foot out of this room, he believes he’d be smothered on sight.

The Jujutsu Society fears Geto Suguru..

…and Geto Suguru fears himself.

In all fairness, he deserves everything that’s come to him. What he did was awful; mass murdering humans…trying to murder even more humans…harming innocent students…starting a war during the holiday season…the whole gist. There are obviously bad actions from the past that continue to haunt Geto to this day and will continue haunting him so long as he breathes— but that’s all it is now…the past. He wants redemption. He needs redemption. If Gojo managed to reach clarity within Geto’s awful decisions, then maybe he can too.

Geto wants to get better, to be better…not only for Gojo…but for himself.

This is exactly why he and his best friend has devised a plan, one that will hopefully help lead Geto on a better path— a five-year path that will only be completed if he truly wants it to, and a half a decade seems like quite a bit of time to most; but for Geto, he doesn’t know if it will be enough.

For Satoru…do it for Satoru…

He wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to comfort his heart that beats with fear every second of every day. It’s been so long since he’s been hugged by another, and he doubts he’ll ever feel that love and comfort from someone in his life. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s been alone with his thoughts with no one else to turn to; and if he’s being honest, there’s nothing in the entire world that scares him more than his own mind.

“Geto Suguru?”

He doesn’t recognize that voice.

The soft sound comes from seemingly nowhere, startling Geto with a slight jump. Whomever it is sounds frail and weak, obviously intimidated by whom they’re going to be in the presence of in mere minutes; and Geto already finds nothing but annoyance at his new companion. Of course they’re going to have prior judgment. He bets you already hate him for the rumors and stories. He doesn’t really have a choice whether or not you come in, though. Gojo insisted on a caretaker— someone to talk to so he doesn’t go insane by himself— and Geto will do anything to make his best friend happy. So, he stands up and dusts his pants off, making sure to look more presentable, and stalks towards the entryway. His hand meets the knob, yanking it open, and ready to meet the stranger on the other side.

Standing before him is you, a woman around his age. You can’t possibly be older than twenty-six, but perhaps you’re a few years younger. In your hands are various sweets and snacks that Gojo knows Geto loves, balancing on a silver tray that shines more light in the room than he’d care for. The reflections dazzle straight into his eyes, blinding him briefly with a scowl on his face. Of course Gojo would know to send you in with his favorites. He’s so predictable. His best friend is less surprising than he thinks, causing Geto to roll his eyes to the top of his head; though he appreciates the kind gesture. It’s far past dinner, though. Gojo must’ve struggled to convince the others to allow him a proper meal.

“Don’t just stand there, monkey.” Geto commands whilst gesturing to the small dining table in the center of his confined space. “Come inside.”

The instant you stepped into his presence, it was horribly noticeable that you have no cursed energy. Zero. Not a lick of it…and he struggles to hide the disgust with his body language. He can’t help but be annoyed that a monkey such as yourself is going to be in his company for the next five years.

With his distaste for you clear as day, he pulls out a chair for himself and disregards the kind option of pulling out yours prior; expectantly looking towards you with the expectation that you’re going to serve him his meal like a servant.

“Well, monkey…” he trails off disinterested, “I’m waiting.”

You hustle towards him, quickly and efficiently placing the special grade sorcerer’s meal on the placemat before him and taking the empty seat opposite. There’s a small breath you’re holding in, Geto can see it in your throat— it’s suffocating you with fear for your life as your fingers lightly tap the dark wood in a nervous fit.

You’re completely pathetic. As if a monkey would ever have the courage to speak to him. This is ridiculous.

His hands slam against the table with a loud bang. “What are you doing?” he questions, heavily interrogating you as you cower in your seat like a meak mouse. “Does Satoru expect you to monitor my meals?”

He really is nothing but a prisoner, isn’t he?

“What damage could I possibly do with this slob that’s been served to me by the scum of the earth? Start a food fight in the halls? Overthrow the Jujutsu world with a biscuit?” (If that is the case, in your defense, the biscuits are quite hard. There must be a new kitchen hand in training who based them.) This is a horrible day.

As Geto impatiently awaits your answer, a deep breath escapes your lips— perhaps a way to soothe your heartbeat into something less than a record-breaking speed— and you attempt to focus your stress and fear into a fleeting moment of zen. Your large eyes shut for a total of three seconds; one, two, three…before opening again. This time, as his own eyes make contact with yours, they’re shining with slightly more confidence than before as you swallow hard and settle your gaze on Geto— the look in your eyes evolving from that of anxiety to empathy.

“Actually,” your lips rise into a thin smile, “Gojo Satoru didn’t send me here, the higher ups did.”

Your eyes search Geto’s for any signs of discomfort or inner rage that could be boiling beneath the surface of his poker face. It appears that he’s grown even stronger at hiding his true emotions towards humans; however, you can see through the veil. Yes, it’s thick and difficult to brush past, but there’s a slight opening in the center that you peek inside— and what you can see in his heart is a man who simply wants to finally do what’s right.

“The higher ups are aware that Gojo Satoru has a soft spot for you— hell, everyone who knows your name is aware that when it comes to you, he has no reason. He has no right of mind. I’m only here to monitor and report your progress in an honest manner. That’s it. That’s all. I promise I won’t intrude on your life more than necessary.”

Shit.

“I’m sorry, Geto Suguru…but you’re stuck with me.”

It’s as if his left and right sides are arguing between themselves. His good conscience says that he should give you a chance, perhaps you could be different than the monstrous humans that attempted to kill his beloved Mimiko and Nanako; while his bad conscience tells him to let out one of his cursed spirits to devour you where you stand. Listening to his right side would definitely get him his best case scenario…a chance to see his girls again…but the left side would be so much more enjoyable. Oh well. At least the higher ups sent someone somewhat his age and not an ancient and decaying corpse like themselves. That’s a disgusting thought. He’d rather be hugged by a hundred humans than be forced to befriend a higher up. A shiver runs through Geto’s spine as a newfound appreciation for you is birthed within him.

“Do you have a name?” Geto taunts as he begins to pick at his meal, slightly disgusted with the stale quality of some of the snacks but nevertheless thankful that he at least has something to subside his aching hunger. “Or should I just call you ‘monkey’ as I do with the rest of your kind?”

That sound?

You’re laughing?

Your giggles are surprisingly pleasant to Geto’s ears as they harmonize into a song that he can imagine himself listening to each morning. Why did you find that funny? He was quite literally insulting your entire existence. Geto is dumbfounded by the strange humor you seem to have, considering that he was being entirely serious with his question. Humans are so strange. He’s never really been able to understand how your peoples’ minds work, but perhaps he could begin to learn the basics. It’s not like he has anything better to do, and some entertainment would be nice.

He’ll keep you around…it wouldn’t hurt and you can be his companion kind of like a pet.

Pets are cute…

…your smile is cute too.

You smile once more, answering his question with a blush on your face. “Please,” your cheeks redden, “Call me by my name, Suguru.”

YEAR ONE, DAY NINETY-FOUR

“You’re late.” Geto crosses his arms over his chest, exhaling a large breath of air in a loud and annoyed huff as he attempts to seem seriously angered by his new friend’s awful timing.

It’s nearly twenty minutes past the time that you were supposed to be here; emphasis on supposed. He’s been waiting with his eyes staring at the clock, watching it tick and tick as the time passed by with no you knocking on his door. That’s twenty whole minutes of time in which he was forced to entertain himself rather than listen to your rambles and rants about whatever the latest scandal is in the outside world. You love that pop culture gossip stuff that social media and magazines rave about, and in a weird way, you somewhat remind him of his daughters— personality-wise…not attraction wise…that would be weird.

Over the past few months, Geto’s grown severely accustomed to the daily routine that you’ve developed, becoming so fond of you that he strangely pictures your smile and recalls your laughter when you aren’t even here. Friendship is a funny thing. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a friend like yourself; yes, Satoru will always be his closest confidant…but his relationship with you is different in a way that he can’t quite put his finger on. He’s never considered anyone else the highlight of his every day like he does you. Your company is the kind of presence that he overwhelmingly enjoys; with such a positive and warm nature exuding comfort to Geto’s loneliness, and your judgment-free outlook on life rivaling his pessimism in a perfect mixture of negativity and optimism. He wishes he’d met you sooner, perhaps when he was a child— and if he had, maybe he wouldn’t have turned out the way he did.

It’s too bad you would’ve only been an awful human to him back then…he would’ve called you his infamous nickname without batting an eye…a monkey…

…a mere monkey whom he never ever thought he’d develop unwanted feelings for.

For his entire life, Geto always told himself not to fall in love. That love isn’t real. It isn’t obtainable, not when there are people like Satoru in the world— people that you can’t help but love— and then people like him; people who you can’t help but hate. With that being said, he’s never necessarily been looking forward to any potential love matches in his future.

…no matter who he was involved with…

…until he met you.

“Sorry about that, Suguru!” you hustle through the doorway, your appearance a tangled mess with dusty dirt particles littered with gravel.

There’s a large scratch on your right cheek, not deep or in danger of infection in any way, but noticeable enough that he’s able to see it from a distance. Knowing you, it’s most likely accidentally self-inflicted in some sort of way; you being notorious for tripping or snagging your skin on the sharp end of a table. How do you always manage to be so uncoordinated? Geto can’t help but let out a short laugh, his eyes scrolling up and down your body and taking in your entire appearance, dirt and all. You even manage to make dirt look good. What the fuck? He hates this.

Your voice carries on as you approach him. “I was running on time, but then I saw this adorable shop downtown and I just had to make a stop.” The overexaggerated tone you hold is amusing as your hands wave through the air in a physical storytelling of your experience. The skin of your cheeks is flushed red from your sprint through the city, looking beautiful in resemblance to that of a blooming rose.

Geto can feel his own face heating up at the sight of you, choosing to shrug nonchalantly in an attempt to seem as if he doesn’t care at all about your dilemma…

…as if he doesn’t care about every second of your everyday…

…as if your overall excitement isn’t the only thing that truly keeps him going nowadays.

“You tell me these things as if what you do outside of this room matters to me.” He hopes his words mask his rising blush. (Spoiler alert: They don’t.)

Flawlessly, you brush off Geto’s phony disinterest without the slightest acknowledgement. It’s as if the phrase had never even left his lips, with no evidence and proof of insult. This isn’t an uncommon occurrence when the topic of what you do when you’re not with him comes up in conversation, as the prisoner typically tries to ignore his interest in your daily shenanigans— and you can’t deny that it hurts. Most of the time, it feels as if Geto never actually listens to anything you say, and you were able to quickly realize that in the early weeks of your arrangement when the pain began to torment your heart; ripping and shredding it to bits with every eye roll and mocking scoff. You don’t seem to matter in Geto’s point of view. He doesn’t care…at least that’s what you believe.

In contrast to Geto, you’re an emotional spirit— you crave love.Love is all you’ve ever wanted, needed, and desired. In your time with him, you’ve developed inklings of feelings as well. However, you’ve chosen to let your feelings grow and blossom out of the dirtied patch of grass they were planted in— ignoring the warnings every single person in your life has given you in advance. Despite that, Geto continues to stomp on your budding flowers. He takes a heavy watering can, filled to the brim with hose water, and drowns your garden in the tears that you shed in the privacy of your bedroom. Those tears that are a never ending waterfall due to the fact that you know it isn’t your job to fall in love with your client. Your duty to Jujutsu Society is to help Geto learn to love humans and sorcerers as one in the same and to gain the trust of his community once more— not to love you.

“Okay, before you judge me, at least give me a chance to explain myself.” Stumbling towards Geto, you accidentally trip over your own feet in embarrassment, and proceed to hold out a single flower not yet in bloom. “It’s freshly cut. I saw a bouquet in the window and it caught my eye, because it reminded me of you; but I knew you’d hate a flashy bunch of them so I just bought the one.”

It reminded you of him?

Taking the gift into his own hands, Geto studies it intensely. The rose is a dark shade of red, crimson, or scarlet depending on your vocabulary. The petals are a brighter color while the plushness near the stem turns dark, more sinister as it approaches the thorns lining the sides. Just by looking at the rose, he can understand why it made you think of him. It’s gorgeous, but practically untouchable figuratively and literally. There’s only one angle that he can hold the stem at that doesn’t prick his fingers. Ouch. And he just did the very thing he was being so careful of avoiding.

All his life, he’s never been the kind of person who longed for gifts or compliments, but when coming from the right person…perhaps he is.

Whilst he struggles to come up with a reply— a simple ‘thank you’ or ‘i appreciate this’— you mentally applaud yourself as you’ve finally found a way to make him speechless…

…but your praise for yourself is short-lived.

He can’t be weak. Not even for you.“I guess it’s not terrible.” Geto throws the flower to the ground and lightly kicks it away with his right foot. As one of the beautiful petals drifts away from the lonely flower, he turns away, not being able to endure the heartbroken look on your face and the offended rose on the floor. Why does he have to be like this? “I’m sure that garbage is all a monkey like you can afford anyways.” Why is he so cruel?

His eyes clench shut as he hears the door begin to close. You’re so gentle even when upset. He admires that about you— you’re the calm to his ever-raging storm, the sailor to his tsunami, and the lifeboat to his wreckage— you’re the most pure-hearted person he knows, and you don’t deserve this awful anger he holds within him.

Is he…crying?

As tears begin to drip down his cheeks, Geto collapses against the wall with his knees buckling beneath him and his weight crumbling down to a pile of patheticness. He’s just a shell of a man undeserving of someone like you. Soft sobs escape his lips and silent cries fill the hollow room, absent of your joy, crying out until he notices the faint outline of the young rose beside him. With the flick of his hand, he snatches the flower off the ground and lifts the thorny plant with careful hands— finally and truly understanding your meaning behind the gift. This is how you see him? He’s dreadful and hurtful to others on the outside, prickling kind people away with his thorns…but when encouraged and supported, he has the potential to become something beautiful.

Someone that could one day be compared to the beauty that is of a blooming rose.

With the budding rose in his grasp, Geto sits alone. He realizes that he’s only able to become that person with the help of you. You’re the only person that has even come close to seeing him for who he truly is; aside from Satoru you’re the only person who would think of giving such a gift to the number one enemy of the Jujutsu world. You’re the only person who he’s ever come to feel true and honest romantic love towards.

Geto has to become better. Not only for himself and Satoru…but now, for you.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated! ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀i promise i'll post the next 2 parts soon pls be patient :3

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messylustt · 11 months

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𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 2.7k words

fic masterlist previous part pt two next part

learning spanish (I don’t speak spanish, so please correct me if I’m wrong with anything here); non detailed mentions of injuries; male masterbation — after a mission, a group of spider-people come back bruised and for the most part injured, all including a seemingly unbothered miguel. miguel offers a first spanish lesson, one that ends with the reminder of something in return—I wonder where your new home is…

You hear the crash and commotion of a group arriving. You watched as medical spiders’ rushed towards the injured. They were all practically injured in some way. You quickly stood, making sure everything was out of the way, like rolled away chairs and random cords.

Your brows creased in concern as you spotted different spider-people holding their wounds, their suits ripped. You shift your gaze to the only one standing, appearing fine, besides his cut up suit and bloody face, bruises forming by his cheek. Before you know it, you're walking up to him. "O'hara."

He turns his head, his chest still breathing heavy. "You should sit." You suggest, watching as the rest of the group heads towards the large door, most likely heading to the medical room.

Miguel just walks past you, heading to the space you barely see him away from—by the big spider that teleports. You watch him walk, noticing the continuing tear of his suit, that gives you a good look at fractions of his bare muscled back.

You turn, quickly heading towards the exit, remembering something that might be helpful.

"Where are you going?" Miguel's sudden voice makes you slow as you briefly glance back. You catch his gaze. "You should be working." His general solemn expression is present, and oddly that makes you feel settled. Familiarity is always nice, especially after a clearly hard mission.

"I'll be back." You say quickly, before you rush out the door.

When you arrive back, Miguel is looking at his cuts, some clearly deeper than others. You tighten your hold on the large spider suit as you near him.

He instantly notices your presence, most likely a 'spider-sense' thing. His gaze shifts to the material in your grasp. "I know you'd rather someone else's help, but I know for a fact that we don't have spare spider suits, which is kind of stupid considering how dangerous your guys' job's are."

You near him, now noticing the way he's sitting, legs slightly spread, his body leant back in a swivel chair. And as you look closer, you realise that it's your swivel chair. You extend your hand with the suit, which he takes, eyeing the matching material and design of the worn-out one he has on now.

"I made a replica when I first arrived—when I was learning about how things worked here. Your suit is rather unique and I wanted a closer look. Not to mention that the design correlated to data I have saved on all of you."

Miguel raises a brow. "Data?"

"Lyla's data, to be exact. Since I'm working with her, she had to show me."

You watch as he runs the material between the pads of his fingers, his tongue coming out to lick his cut lip. A shiver runs down your spine as you notice his fangs. You'd noticed them before, but was never confident enough to ask him about them. No other spider-person had teeth like that.

You begin to step back. "Wear it if you want. I'm just heading to lunch."

And that was the nicest conversation you think you’ve had with Miguel. Mainly because you did all the talking.

Miguel watched you go, a nervousness very obvious to him practically flowing off you. Nerves he noticed heightened when you gave him the new suit.

He brings said suit into view, tilting his head in observation. He's thankful nobody was there to witness the small smile that had begun to edge his lips.

;;

"I'm sorry, when did you ever think that the patriarchy wasn't something terrible?" You ask Hobie, who had decided to join you for lunch. He had just showed you a new song on his guitar, the lyrics completely different from what you knew Hobie to be.

"Oh, society’s fucked. But I want to keep up an element of surprise." He says, continuously eating most of the food on your plate. "Can't stay predictable, now can I?"

You chuckle, slightly shaking your head, snatching some of the food out of his greedy hands. "Did you know what that mission was about, with all those injured spider-men?" You suddenly ask.

Hobie pauses, before shaking his head. "Though I did hear it got cleared from the database. Miguel asked Lyla to scrap it."

Your brows furrowed. "Why? I wasn't stationed for that mission, so, I was a little surprised to see the bloody fists and faces. Usually when Miguel leads a group things go so..."

"Smoothly?" Hobie fills in, to which you nod. "I don't know, mate. Maybe they lost, and poor Miguel's embarrassed."

Your lips curve up in a smile, as Hobie snickers at the thought.

"And weren't you just saying that you'd kiss my non-existent boots the other day?" Miguel's voice abruptly makes both you and Hobie swivel in your seats.

You instantly catch on to Miguel's clean suit. You hold back a smile threatening to surface at his semi acceptance of your help. Miguel notices your expression. "Don't take it personally, y/l/n."

You forming smile drops as you try to display indifference. "Did you need something, boss?" Hobie partially jokes.

"Not from you." Miguel looks back to you, before tilting his head to the side, silently asking you to follow him, as he turns and walks away.

Nerves crawl up your spine as you stand. You slide your plate closer to Hobie, as you speak. "Don't worry, you can finish it." Your sarcasm in your assurance is obvious, knowing he would have helped himself anyway.

Hobie places his hand over his heart, touched. "You're honestly an angel, y/n."

You scoff, quickly following the now disappeared Miguel.

When you near the tech and teleportation room—or in other words your office—you spot Miguel bringing up a second swivel chair to be placed beside yours.

When he catches your confused expression, he speaks, leaning back into the chair. "I have some spare time now for your first Spanish lesson. And Lyla is occupied, as of now."

You're quick to take a seat, a slight determined shine in your eyes that makes Miguel's throat tighten, which only sets a more prominent scowl on his face. "Te ves como una niña ansiosa mirando los regalos."

You blink, eyes narrowing as you try to decipher any of what he just said. "You look like an over eager child staring at presents." Miguel translates.

The shine in your eyes shifts to a glare of your gaze as you click your jaw. "As I said: I like this job."

"Mm." Miguel hums. "You've made that clear."

You lean back in your chair, trying to match his relaxed posture. "Can we start with something more simple?" You ask, wetting your slightly dry lips. Your nerves seem to do that to you.

"Don't worry, I don't think you're a genius or anything." His tone makes your nose twitch as you take a breath. You'd love to tell him how infuriating he can be.

"Repeat after me: Me llamo…" Miguel says.

"Me llamo."

Miguel is surprised by your rather accurate accent, his gaze shifting to your lips. "Me llamo y/n."

Your body becomes stiff as you hear your first name spill from his lips. You gulp, your throat now feeling dry. "Me llamo y/n."

"I'm sure you can guess what that means." Miguel says, his dry humour shining through.

"My name is y/n." You prove.

"Good." He says.

"Gracias." (Thank you.) You say the one word you do know, a hint of pride filling you as Miguel's eyes meet your own without the usual spite hidden behind.

"Since you know a basic word, let’s learn another." He rests his arm against the armrest, your eyes betraying you as they flicker to the tense of his muscles. "Por favor." (Please.)

"Por favor." You repeat.

Miguel's lips slightly curve up in a smirk. "You sound good being polite."

You narrow your eyes, before realising what 'por favor' means. "Please." You sigh.

Miguel's smirk hasn't dropped. To which you quickly speak. "Next word."

"Let's try a sentence using 'por favor'." He says. "¿Me puede ayudar, por favor?" (Can you help me, please?)

"¿Me puede ayu..." You drift off, unsure.

"Puede ayuder..." Miguel helps.

"¿Me puede ayudar, por favor?" You say, with a small smile.

"You're gonna be using that one a lot." Miguel says, licking his lips. What you don't know is that Miguel made you use the formal 'you', just adding more onto his layer of superiority. That's when you get reminded of his cut lip, which looks like it hasn't been tended to, most likely on his call.

"Are you sure you don't want to make sure that that doesn't get infected?" You ask, gesturing loosely to his bottom lip.

He raises his hand to it. "It's fine."

"Yeah, now it is." You say with a slight scoff. "It might not be—"

"It's fine, chaparrita."

"What does that mean?" You ask. "You've said it to me before."

Part—no, most—of Miguel doesn't want to tell you. Sure, he could play it off as an insult, but the way he can't help but let his tone drop to one of softness when he says it would give away the fact that he uses it as a form of endearment rather then one of hatred. He can't have you knowing that.

His silence makes you speak. "Fine, I'll just search it up then." You go to grab your phone—which sits rather far behind you—when he intercepts, using his web to snatch it up, pulling it back into his awaiting palm.

Miguel stands, taking the device with him. "Hey!" You call after him. "I need that."

"No you don't. Nothing of work importance is on here." Miguel calls back. You scoff, staring after him. Just as he's about to disappear through the exit he speaks. "Oh, and y/l/n?"

You wait in annoyance but also expectancy. "Don't forget you owe me something in return." Then he's gone, leaving you to lean into your chair, feeling heavy with all the different heights of nervousness you had just felt.

;;

It was dark, only a few spider-people wandering around headquarters. You’re preparing to teleport back to your universe, holding the wrist band you were given, when a certain voice stops you.

“Y/l/n.” You spin to see Miguel. You can’t help but let your gaze drop down his body. He wasn’t in his normal spider suit, wearing instead, grey sweatpants, and a loose (very large) shirt.

You had planned to say something, maybe ask what he wanted. But all you could muster was the open and close of your mouth.

You let your gaze shamefully drag back up to his face. His red eyes seemed to stand out more with the monotoned colours of his clothes. You gulp, refraining from shaking your head to clear your…interesting thoughts. You force a smile, maybe one too wide.

Miguel watches you, wishing he didn’t feel so amused by your confusing display of emotions.

You cough. “Did you need something, O’hara?”

He lets his gaze drift down your body, making you stiffen. And of course, he notices, holding down the curve of his lips. He wouldn’t smile in front of you. Though, he’s sure that self-made rule has already been broken by today’s Spanish lesson.

“Stay.” Miguel finally speaks, meeting your gaze.

“Stay?” You repeat.

“Mhm.” He hums, crossing his arms.

“What do you mean?”

Miguel raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “What do you think it means?” He asks dryly.

You narrow your eyes at his tone, running your tongue along your teeth. “I thought only spider-men and women can stay in headquarters?”

“I thought you wanted to do anything to prove your worth?”

Realisation hits you. “Oh, this is part of the deal? Your end?”

“In return for today’s lesson, yes.” He replies, walking closer to you.

He grabs your teleporting wristband, pocketing it in his sweatpants before he’s turning and heading towards a side door.

“Come on.” He orders.

You hurry your steps catching up to him.

Soon you’re beginning to walk up what looks to be the stairs to heaven. So. Many. Steps. You glance up at them, then shift your gaze to Miguel. “We’re walking all the way up there?”

“Feel free to web your way up instead.” The jabbing hasn’t left, which sets a small scowl on your face.

You wave your hands in the general direction of the higher steps. “You can do that, I’ll catch up.” You say as you begin to mount the stairs.

Miguel watches you for a second, pressing his lips together to hold back an unwanted laugh at the preparing deep breath you took.

He follows you up the stairs. You reach halfway when you realise he’s behind you. You spin, your chest slightly heaving. You’ve always felt jealous of all the spider variants’ fitness.

“Why aren’t you swinging?” You ask between breaths.

“Last I remember, you report to me, not the other way ‘round.” Miguel answers.

You scoff while trying to slow your breathing. “It was just a question.”

“Maybe we should switch lessons—do fitness instead of Spanish.” You watch as Miguel passes you, continuing up the stairs.

Your eyes are narrowed as your gaze follows him. “You’re funny.” You call after to his leaving form.

“No tan divertido como que estes sin aliento, chaparrita.” (Not as funny as you being breathless.) Miguel calls back.

“What?” You ask, breathlessly.

Miguel just chuckles. Your brain halts. Miguel just chuckled? Miguel seems to be thinking the same thing as his face returns, rather quickly, to its normal moody expression.

You’re both soon at the top, Miguel having reached it in a decent amount of time before you. Just as your bent of your knees, breathing heavy, Miguel turns, walking away again.

“O’hara.” You call, placing your hand over your rapidly beating heart. He doesn’t answer, continuing to walk.

“Miguel!”

At the mention of his first name he freezes. He doesn’t like the fact that his mouth goes dry, forcing him to gulp. He hasn’t liked the fact that you’ve made him ‘chuckle’, smile and actually forget about his morning’s mission.

“Your room is to the right. Be awake before six.” Miguel says monotonously, as he turns towards you, passing your now straightened body to assumably head to his own room.

You watch him go, your breathing slowing as a small frown forms. But it soon goes, grateful that this new room means O’hara is warming up to the fact of you staying.

;;

When Miguel reaches his room, he slams the door shut, some of the wall’s plaster crumbling off in sprinkles. He was mad. How dare you make him feel that many emotions in one day. One. Day. That’s all it took.

But what he hated more was the fact that underlying his anger towards you, was lust. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, your face and your voice was the thing that helped him late at night.

He hits back against the headboard of his bed, not caring about the creaks and groans of the wood. Because all he could think about was the way your chest looked heaving up and down. The way your mouth opened in pants.

He hated you. His hand slipped down to his pants, sinking into his sweatpants. He hated the way you smiled. His fingers wrapped around his hard on, beginning to stroke, his eyes shut as his head stayed pressed against the wall.

He hated the way you looked at him—big eyes staring with a mix of curiosity. His breathing began to hitch, as his pace quickened, a small groan falling from his lips. He hated the way you smelt—cherry following you everywhere you went. His hips began to thrust up into his palm.

He hated the way…

He hated…

“Coño...” (Fuck.) He whisper-hisses, his cock throbbing with the want to release.

His other hand gripped tight on his messy sheets, as he bites down on his lips, his eyes beginning to roll. His abs contract as his mouth hangs open in a pant. “Ay, dios.” (oh, god.)

Miguel O’hara hates the fact that only you can bring him to an orgasm that makes him desperate to feel another.

Fuck you—he thinks to himself. Fuck you, y/n.

I’ll admit— I didn’t expect this to get so much love, thank you so so much all of you angels, MWAH

I promise more parts are to come!

also some words/how things work in the ‘spider-multiverse hero crew’ might be different then how you picture it—certain details I just made up, hope you all don’t mind

taglist: @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbb @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees

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ratridingaskateboard · 6 months

Text

Always See Your Face

New girl! Reader x Eddie

Summary: There is a new girl at Hawkins and Dustin will do anything to make sure Eddie doesn't find out.

Warnings: slight sexual innuendos, cursing, mentions of drugs. Y/N is described!

A/N: Hi! This is the first time I have written a fic in a while but I hope you enjoy it! Depending on the feedback I get from this I might write more :) FYI perspectives in this story will change and will be indicated by: --

Dustin had always been one to have his friends' best interests in mind. He might have overstepped boundaries at times but he knew what was best for him and his friends. Even though Eddie was several years older than him, he still knew that the last thing Eddie needed in his life was a girlfriend. What if he started hanging out with her and Hellfire stopped existing? What would happen with his band? Everything would go to shit because some girl would grab his attention for 2 seconds.

Dustin found himself every morning before school sitting in the back of Eddie's van with the back doors open. Eddie let them sit in the back and read comics while he would perform his drug deals for the kids who had extracurricular activities after school. Dustin looked up from his X-Men to observe a car he had never seen before. Strange, but not uncommon to see until he saw a figure he had never seen before.

She dawned a black denim jacket adorned with several Metal and Punk bands that Dustin would not be able to recognize but had seen in Eddie's vast cassette collection. Her legs were barely covered by a short red plaid schoolgirl skirt and her chest was wrapped in a Sex Pistols T-shirt. She was bending down to seemingly grab her backpack from her backseat and several football douchebags whistled at the response of seeing her backside. This did not catch her attention though as she quickly grabbed her backpack and placed it on the roof of her car. She glanced at Dustin and he felt himself gulp. Fuck- He was staring at Eddie's dream girl. He frequently heard Eddie go on tangents that no girl in Hawkins had the same interests as him. Now he proved himself wrong- Dustin could prove it with his own eyes. Not only did she have his style but she had a pretty face similar to that of one of the girls from one of Eddie's porn mags that Dustin had unfortunately found in his van. They both shared the same long brown hair and doe-shaped eyes.

What was Dustin going to do? Not only was this girl weirded out by the amount of time Dustin had been ogling her but she could ruin everything. She did not even understand the power she possessed by simply existing in the wrong place and at the wrong time. He had to do everything in his power to make sure neither of them saw each other.

Dustin's feet started to jog in her direction as she had already begun her strut to the front entrance of the school. Before Dustin could get the chance to tap her shoulder, she swiftly turned to face him, discomfort shown in her face.

"Hey man, I would really enjoy it if you could leave me alone." She barked.

"No no no! I don't mean anything bad by following you. I'm sorry for staring at you earlier but um... Oh! The principal had actually sent me to give you a tour of the school and to show you where your classes are!" Dustin had secured a good enough lie to not seem like the creep he was presenting himself to be.

Her eyes widened and her gaze softened.

"Oh, okay." She smiled and Dustin could feel himself getting more anxious knowing that she was that pretty when she smiled.

The bell began to rang, signaling to every student that it was time for Hell to begin. Dustin heard a familiar voice call out to Mike and he swiftly grabbed her hand and pulled her into the school, making sure to avoid any possibly common route Eddie normally took.

"Can I see your schedule?" Dustin asked, giving out his hand eagerly.

It seemed like she could hear the annoyance in Dustin's words and swiftly pulled out the crumpled sheet of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. Dustin quickly looked over the paper and let out a sigh of relief. Even though she was a senior, she did not seem to have a single class with Eddie most likely because her classes were for the more advanced students.

"Okay, Y/N. This way!"

Dustin guided her to her first classroom, Mr. Stadford's Physics class, and said that he would meet up with her after her second. After the first period was over, Dustin ran to meet up with Y/N and to make sure he was able to beat her before she left the classroom. Yes, Eddie and her shared similar hallways for classes but Eddie had a tendency to be late to each and every class he went to. Alongside this, Dustin made sure that she was always early to her classes. This cycle repeated until lunch.

Y/N had found herself bound to the little curly-headed boy. She shouldn't say boy he was only a couple years younger than her. Moving was hard but going to a new school was even harder. Her parents' divorce could not have been more sudden and even though he had been a tad bit too eager, she really appreciated Dustin's kindness.

She frowned after exiting her third-period class to find no Dustin. Guess she would have to find the cafeteria by herself or simply follow the crowd that had corralled its way down the hall.

Once she entered the cafeteria, she felt the eyes on her, all over her. Thankfully, there were plenty of tables that had not recognized that fresh blood had entered their school. She saw a familiar head of curls bobble in laughter and she started her stride in his direction.

Once she had gotten to the table, it seemed to be filled with only boys all wearing the same T-shirt Dustin was wearing. She assumed it must be some sort of club he had not introduced her to yet. The majority of the boys had noticed her walk up to the table and she could tell they were not often approached by women. The only ones who hadn't noticed were Dustin and an older boy with long shaggy brown hair.

"Hey," She put her hand on Dustin's shoulder and her moved her head down to his level. "I know you showed me around and I might be asking for too much but is it alright if I sit with you?"

A look of dread filled Dustin's face as he looked up at her from his lunch. She had automatically assumed that he had felt bad for not escorting her to the lunch room.

"It's okay! I found the lunch room just fine." She rubbed his shoulder to put him at ease and sat down next to him.

There was nothing but silence.

She had felt as if she had sat at the wrong table and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Dustin was still agape and didn't seem to have changed his expression even after her reassurance. She turned to view the other boys at the table. They stared at her with a sense of confusion and wonder but all too awkward to speak first.

Finally, she turned to the boy sitting at the end of the table. His gaze softened when she gazed at him. His eyes were wide also in shock from a stranger sitting at their table but there was something different in his expression that she couldn't quiet read. Embarrassment? No. Confusion? No. Longing? Maybe but not quite.

This silence was cut short by a food tray plopping on the other side of Dustin.

"Jesus, that line was long!" A boy with a bowl cut sighed.

"Where are you guys so quiet?" He looked around in disbelief but immediately found the source when he spotted the brunette sitting on the other side of Dustin.

"Hey." She waved.

A/N: Depending on how things go with this I will definitely continue this as a series. Lemme know your thoughts!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things #SoundCloud

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mintmatcha · 7 months

Note

ur sukuna favorite wife blurb has rotted my brain like that is a NEED now

cw: sukuna has multiple wives, a bit of wlw fetishization, degradation

"Why am I your favorite?"

Sukuna doesn't try to deny it. He can't, not when you're tucked into his bed, draped in only the jewels he's gifted you. None of the other wives are even allowed in his bedroom without permission, and yet you're here, just like you are almost every night.

He shrugs his robes from his shoulders and then he's bare, two half hard cocks hanging between his legs. It's been a while since you were frightened by this true form of his, but you can't deny it's monstrous. Four arms, a twisted mouth, a forever grinning maw across his stomach: it's be a horror if it wasn't your husband.

"Does it matter?" His lip curls as he speaks.

"It does to me," you say as you pat the bed beside you. Like a dog summoned, he eagerly crawls forward on to his hands, pulling the sheets down as he approaches.

"Maybe it's because your tits are so suckable."

First, he kisses the string of pearls across your neck and runs his tongue across the diamonds, savoring the salt of your skin on them. Then, he moves to the swell of your tit. His dagger edged teeth nip the skin and a bloom of heat stirs inside you. A bruise is already coming to the surface.

"Mai has bigger breasts than me," you pount out, breathless.

"Your skin is soft," he retorts. His free arms are clutching for you, digging into the fat of your ass.

"Gena is younger. Her skin is much more supple."

"Your cunt is sweet."

"Not as sweet as Lyla's."

Sukuna pauses for a moment, mouth half closed around your nipple. He leans back after a moment, a dark chuckle on his lips.

"Have you been licking the other wives while I've been away?" He leans in like he's angry, but the wicked grin across his face tells a different story. "Whore."

He says the word with such joy. One of his cocks is hard against your inner thigh, twitching to go back inside you, where it belongs. The mouth across his stomach has begun to drool, warm droplets of spit wetting your lower stomach and pubic hair. When you move your thighs, you aren't sure if the slick is from you or from him.

"I've tasted her on your cock, sire." You keen forward for a kiss and he lets you take one, even letting you linger for a moment, "And on your lips."

"I'm tempted to summon her now, just to see you between her legs." Sukuna gathers both cocks in one hand, guiding them towards your core. The thought of stretch to fit both makes you squirm, but his sturdy hands keep you in place, "Her cum in your lips must be a heavenly delight."

"Does that mean she's your favorite now?"

Real anger flashes across his gnarled face. With gritted teeth, he leans back onto his knees to tower about you.

"Woman, you are more hassle..."

He suddenly grips your hair and tugs, dragging your face centimeters from his. He moves your body like it weighs nothing to him, and yet he's careful not to hurt you.

"I will say this once and never again, so listen." Sukuna's eyes are sharp and narrowed, "You are the only wife I love. That is the reason you are my favorite."

Just as suddenly as he grabbed you, he lets you go. Your fall is softened by the mountain of pillows-- all of which bought just for you.

"Now, spread your legs and never ask a stupid question again."

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blkkizzat · 5 months

Text

𝙅𝙅𝙆 𝙈𝙚𝙣 𝙁𝙖𝙫 𝘼𝙡𝙩 𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙠 ♡

₊˚⊹♡

NURU MASSAGE ft. Choso Kamo x Reader m.list

summary: Choso has stamina for days but needs to work on his endurance and you know the perfect way to achieve that.

cw: nuru, edging, dirty talk, cockrings, femdom, slight masochism/sadism a/n: My fav anon, 🪞 anon, requested a list of JJK Men Fav Alt Fuck Kinks (non vag penetration). Love the idea but I'm pretty busy so going to release these one by one when I find the time. I will update the ask as an m.list for it soon. wc: 2.3k slightly black fem coded, no descriptors

Recently devirginized Choso who is still working on his endurance but has plenty of stamina. He cums quickly but recovers just as fast, fucking you and himself into repeated overstimulation until you are both delirious.

By the end of the night you are a sticky fucked out mess. Choso spurts out more buckets of his cum inside you than your poor pussy can hold to the point you are questioning the limits of your birth control, not to mention washing your sheets daily.

However, you know something needs to be done when no amount of aftercare can stop his cum from still oozing out of you at work during the day. You quickly realized you needed to pack an extra change of panties with you as the ones you have on are guaranteed to be completely soiled by lunchtime.

For the sake of your cunt which had turned into a storage well for Choso’s cum and your overwashed bedding and undies that had begun to fray, Choso needed to build some endurance. You knew the perfect way to accomplish that.

That’s how Choso realizes how much he loves nuru massages.

“Y/N, baby, p-puh-lease! L-Let me cum!”

Choso lay whimpering beneath your naked oil slicked body as you slowly rocked your hips on top of him, yet there was no penetration this time.

This was his endurance training.

Choso’s cock was being compressed between his stomach and your cunt as your folds had parted wide to spread over his sizable girth. Your swollen clit drags along the length of him while your tits glisten as they jiggle temptingly in his face like a treat.

You smile down at him sweetly with half-lidded eyes and shake your head no.

Choso doesn’t hold back his whines and cries of frustration at you denying him.

Perhaps you were enjoying the desperation of your half-curse boyfriend withering under you, painfully hard and vulnerable, a bit too much.

You reasoned this was for his benefit just as much as yours while you savored the intense heat of his arousal under you that sent tingles all over your body causing your heart to race with excitement.

Choso on the other hand was biting his inner cheek so hard he almost drew blood.

Honestly, he had never been this hard before.

He surely would have long already spilled a load of creamy white fluids all over his taunt abs from just your bare pussy rubbing on him like this. Yet he couldn’t reach the sweet ecstasy of release due to the tight cockring currently around his girth.

If the torture of you grinding on him wasn’t enough, Choso wasn’t even allowed to touch you as you had his arms restrained overhead. The cute skull charms dangling from the fuzzy black cuffs on his wrists clink together every time he strains against his bindings.

You both knew he could break out of them faster than you could blink. But he promised you he would be a good boy.

However, that still didn’t stop him from begging.

“S-shit-shit baby– Fuck! Let me touch you Y/N, pleaseee! I’ll make you feel so good princess, wanna make you feel so good on my cock.”

You hum out a moan, the rolling of your hips never faltering, as if you were seriously considering his request before your lip slightly curls up.

“Mmm but Cho baby, your cock is already making me feel really good. Ah there! You’re holding back so well like you promised. This is hard for me too, you know.”

You gave him a small look of frustration but it was obvious to him just how much you were enjoying this.

Almost reaching your next high, you couldn’t keep up your weak charade long at all. Your eyelids fluttered and you threw your head back as you picked up the pace bouncing on top of him.

You had cum once already from teasing Choso like this and it was torture for him to play such a passive role. Much preferring to shower you with his affections, he really struggled with receiving, especially given these circumstances.

But promising you to be a good boy, Choso can only watch helplessly as you rut your body, that was divinely perfect in his eyes, against him while your hands roam to grasp and knead your tits.

Something you knew he would quite literally murder to do right now.

Panting rapidly and voice quivering, tremors run through your body as you gush all over on his cock.

A strained cry comes from Choso as he swears he could have busted a nut right then from the feeling of your slicked sweaty thighs shaking and your warm release flowing over his pelvis. The sight of you cumming so hard from just rubbing against him with that dazed look on your face was so fucking sexy and was pushing him beyond his limits.

Barely a minute goes by though before you resume your grinding causing Choso to hiss and throw his head back in defeat.

You weren’t completely lying before though about this being hard for you. Although this was immensely pleasurable it was nothing compared to the feeling of Choso carving his thick shape into your tight cunt and the more you teased him the more you ached for it.

“H-Hear it Cho? How much you just made me cum?”

Of course Choso heard it, the messy squelching sounds of your pretty pussy smacking down on his throbbing cock were the only sounds louder than his whines. The lubricant and his precum mixes with your essence still steadily seeping out of you causing your movements to become sloppy as you slither against him, digging your nails into his sides for leverage.

Choso’s resolve was rapidly crumbling as he started bucking his hips up.

You couldn’t have him breaking so soon though.

You both had decided with his high stamina he should be able to endure you cumming 3 times before he did so he had to last a bit longer.

Even knowing this it didn’t stop the pained sob elicited from your boyfriend when your hips came to a stop.

God, Choso is so fucking baby girl all cute and needy.

The training purposes of your actions were quickly pushed out of your mind as you only wanted to see his handsome face contort, his nose scrunching ever so slightly as he pleaded you for mercy.

Choso could use the safe word if it was really too much but you knew he wouldn’t anyway, Choso was a bit of a masochist when he was in this state.

Your long manicured nails raked red lines along his torso as you sank yourself down flush onto his body.

The moisture easily allowed you to glide your hardened nipples over his as you settled on his chest, continuing to tease him massaging your nipples over his own.

Choso didn't know how much more of this he could handle before snapping and just fucking you, especially now that your perky tits joined with your velvety cunt in the assault against his body.

FUCK!

He definitely wasn’t prepared for you maneuvering yourself a bit higher so his bulbous tip hooked under your clit before sliding back and teasing against your hole.

You paused to press his angry leaking cockhead ever so slightly over your entrance letting him momentarily feel the way your pussy flexed for him, crying more fluids as your cunt tried to suck him in fully, before you pulled away.

You gave him no reprieve as you repeated the seductive movements over and over.

Choso’s mouth parted in a half pout, his bottom lip trembling with furrowed brows and glassy eyes that threatened tears as he gripped the cuffs causing the chains to bend almost snapping in two.

You knew how much you were stressing your poor sweet boyfriend the fuck out. He was a trooper for lasting this long but you knew he couldn’t much longer.

That didn’t mean you weren’t going to enjoy every second of it until that happened.

“You’re doing so well baby girl, gonna let you cum soon, kay?”

Choso blushed hard at you calling him baby girl.

He wanted to hate when you called him that, much preferring your moans of ‘Daddy!’ beneath him since it made him feel like he was the one taking care of you.

Nevertheless, his intense desire to please and obey any request you gave him activated when you so possessively referred to him as your ‘baby girl’. He felt so unworthy of you at times and the fact you even wanted to take care of made him love you so much more, even if he had already made a promise to himself to be the one to take care of you.

“C-cum with me this time Choso, you’ve been so good for me baby girl.”

You praised him again as your own vision became hazy and you pushed past your fatigue as you clung to him. Your bodies so soaked with the cocktail of sweat, oil and fluids has you now digging your nails into his back just to stay on.

Capturing his lips in a kiss and swallowing his moans, you reached down to remove the binding on his cock. Choso had grown even bigger around the ring and you had to give a good tug even with the lubricant from your bodies to get it off of him.

No sooner than finally freeing Choso from the confines of the sillcone cockring did all the tension in him finally explode.

You felt his cock thrash against you, toppling you into your own delicious orgasm as his entire body and its appendages involuntary twitched and quivered. Moaning loudly Choso violently came, spilling the largest thickest load you’ve seen from him yet between your heaving bodies.

After a couple minutes you raised your head to look at him. Choso had snapped the chains of his confines in two, yet the cuffs were still around each of his wrists akin to a bracelet. His large hands covered his face and he struggled to steady his still erratic breathing.

When you see fat tears roll down the corner of his eyes a bit of guilt hits you as you wonder if you pushed him a bit too far this time. Wanting to comfort him with some aftercare you will your exhausted body up to retrieve a warm towel.

However, no sooner had you sat up did Choso’s hand catch your wrist in a vice grip hold stopping you.

You whipped back to see Choso had sat up as well. He still hadn’t fully caught his breath though and a hand was still over his face.

“Awe baby girl. I’ll be right back to cuddle you Cho, ok? Just going to go get us a towel.”

“No.”

The cold empty reply sent chills through you.

You quickly realized he wasn’t clinging to you now for comfort.

You swallowed hard as the hand covering his face slowly descended to reveal the expanded barbed vertical blood lines over his eyes that were piercing into you like a starved animal staring down its next meal.

Shit. Choso was a pretty easy-going guy but you always knew he meant business once he had activated Flowing Red Scale.

Before you could even form the words you felt your back hit the mattress and just as quickly he was on top of you. Gripping the fat of your thighs he slides your ass flush to him as his hands trail up your sore legs to force them back to your ears.

Your eyes rolled back and you choked on a sob when he pushed all 8 thick inches of his dick into you all at once, bottoming out in you with a single thrust despite the tight squeeze. Choso grit his teeth, still hard even after cumming that much didn’t mean he wasn’t still sensitive but he didn’t care as he could only think of fucking into your creamy cunt until you were screaming under him.

Not even giving you a chance to adjust, your breath hitches and falters every time he roughly slammed his hips down on yours. The firm grip on your hips would surely leave marks as he pounded your cunt open wider. Before your mind could even process the shift your ‘baby girl’ had transformed back into ‘daddy’.

And currently your daddy was treating you like his brand new pocket pussy he had yet to break in.

“P-P-Puhleaseeee Daddy w-wait!”

He looked down on you with the same curl lipped expression you gave him earlier as moisture gathered on your lashes.

“You’ll take this dick as it comes, Y/N. S-Say, it. Fuck! Say you’ll take all of it for daddy, hm doll?”

Choso is rabid.

He’s growling down at you now and drooling as he fucks you into a stupor.

You’re babbling incoherent responses before they turn into mere gurgles as your tongue lulls out of your mouth. Seeing the drool leak outside your mouth Choso gives you a dominating opened mouth his sucking on your tongue hard and sending you towards your 4th orgasm of the night. It would not be your last.

Overall, results of his endurance training had been a success. Choso lasted much longer each round.

However, contrary to your original thoughts, this did not decrease the amount of loads he pumped into you, only extended the length of each round to nearly double of the previous times before.

This puts you right back at square one.

In fact you might be in the negative, as in the end all this resulted in was him building up larger loads, fucking his cum into you harder for longer and causing even more to spill out on your sheets as your pulverized cunt can’t possibly keep it all in.

In the morning, Choso pulls your sore and completely exhausted body even closer to him. He takes his time as he peppers your face and neck with kisses while his fingers lightly ghost over your inner thighs, still moist from the remnants of his cum still seeping out.

You’re too tired to do anything but let him touch your body the way he wants to as you fade back into a heavy sleep. You are already back slumbering by the time he lightly coos a request into your ear.

“Let’s do that again tonight babe, okay?”

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

A/N: Choso is so bbgyal. 🥹 Love him sm. 💖 reblogs are appreciated 🙏🏽

Edit 1/3 - made some improvements !

Footjobs ft. Suguru is next, it's pretty much done so I'll post it tomorrow. Comment and lmk on the m.list if you want to be tagged.

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msgexymunson · 2 years

Text

Overwhelmed

Fem!sensitive!reader v soft!dom!eddie

Overview: hyper sensitivity can be awful. But you begun to find out it's a blessing in disguise with Eddie Munson touching you.

AN: This was a drabble which turned into a long one, whoops! No use of Y/N, pure indulgence on my part due to my neuro divergent ass.

Warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns, smutty mc smutt smutt, NSFW (minors I will chase you with a broom) bit angsty, bit fluffy, female oral receiving, lap riding, also I'm english so bear with me and the American-isms!

7k words

Part 2 here Masterlist

Ever since you were a kid you were sensitive. Loud noises got to you. Not necessarily single noises. It was usually the painful overlay of sounds, mixing and mingling, overwhelming you until you couldn't think. Emotions could be problematic. It seemed that everything affected you more than others. Dizzying highs and earth shattering lows. If someone gave you negative feedback it wore down on you for far longer than it should. The pain was palpable, you could almost taste it.

Touch sensitivity affected you the most. It got to you on a daily basis. No one normal really picks up on how much other people touch you. It's constant; an arm brushing against yours in passing, fingers skimming against your own handing over coins or a pen, a hand at the small of your back when inching past you. Every touch from someone you didn't know or didn't like made your skin crawl. Even wearing a slightly itchy jumper could be hell.

It was even worse with someone you liked. An accidental swipe of a hand, a knee resting against yours, it could send lightning bolts up your spine. It was something you've always had to deal with, and managed to control quite well, until you became friends with Eddie Munson.

You befriended the little band of outcasts mostly out of convenience. Safety in numbers. One day a seat was free on their table in the cafeteria and you asked if you could sit there. The teenage boys gawked at you in silence, all except Eddie. He had stood up and flashed a debonair smile at you, bowing and offering you the seat. You took it gratefully, mumbled a thank you, and proceeded to eat your lunch with your head in your book.

Each day it seemed the same seat was free, next to Eddie. Each day you sat, and each day you opened up more and more to the lovable weirdos surrounding you. Little by little you had been indoctrinated into their gang and it pleased you more than you were prepared to admit. It escalated from just lunch, to being a key member of their D&D party, Hellfire, since they were in sore need of a cleric. You were slowly shedding your rough exterior, the walls you placed around yourself for protection. Not completely though, not yet. You never shared how you felt, how things got to you sometimes. How sensitive you were.

That only got more difficult when you realised just how much you liked Eddie. Suddenly that flash of a smile would make you weak at the knees. You'd see him running his hand through his hair, palm coming to rest on the back of his neck, and you could barely breathe. It's like your attraction to him sucked the air out of your lungs. That shoulder length messy hair, the slim but powerful build, that damn smile. It was all too much. The biggest problem of all though? Eddie was a toucher.

You were sure he didn't even realise, but it was continuous. It was like a compunction. It was innocent enough, but it affected you so much. Every time he grabbed you by the arm it made you shiver. If he slung his arm around your shoulder you were practically quivering. Worst of all was the hugs. He would pull you in for a crushing bear hug and it was like your legs turned to jelly.

Last night at the weekly Hellfire meeting it happened again. You were all celebrating your victory after a particularly drawn out battle. You usually held back a bit being the party's only healer but this time you'd had to step up and had managed to land the final blow. The boys had shouted and jumped up, celebrating the victory with vigor. Eddie had beamed at you and reached out, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "Atta girl" he grinned at you. And what did you do? You fucking whimpered. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and you froze, staring at his deep brown eyes. Eddie stared back, brow furrowed but smiling, like he was trying to figure something out. As soon as the moment happened, it was gone. He moved his hand and you had stared down into your lap, trying to will the blood from your face. It appeared no one else had noticed, too busy making noise to see what had occurred. Eddie had tried to touch your arm again at the end of the session but you had grabbed your bag and high tailed it out of there, much to the confusion of the rest of the party.

Today you were heading into the cafeteria, nearly dreading it. Why had he stroked your face? What the hell was that about? Was that just Eddie being Eddie? He was always so touchy feely. You tried to shrug it off, took a deep breath and headed to your usual seat.

Eddie beamed at your approach. You flashed a tight lipped smile back and perched on the bench, eyes darting around the rest of the group. Dustin was mid sentence, clearly berating Mike about some video game.

"Seriously, you take the enchanted sword and then move through the forest, defeat the goblins and you're practically at the tower. It's not hard, a five year old could do it!" He gestures emphatically. Mike shakes his head.

You pipe up "Dustin, seriously. Tone."

"What, what did I say?" He shrugs at you.

"Not what you said it's the way you said it." Mike adds.

"I know what tone means moron!"

You ignore the rest of the argument and look over to Eddie. He's not paying the slightest bit of attention to the pair. His eyes are trained solely on you. He doesnt shy away when you catch him staring, if anything it seems to spur him on. Theres a glint in his eye that you aren't used to seeing. You cough and look away.

At the end of the lunch period you move to get up and go to class, but Eddie's hand on your wrist stops you. The feel of his rough calloused fingers on your pulse point sends waves throughout your body. You drag your eyes to meet his.

"Everything OK? You seem a bit, off." His words seem genuine, but theres that grin again. You feel like he knows, he must do, and every move is to torture you.

"Um... I'm okay Eddie, it's just all a bit, much." You struggle out, trying to ignore the way his fingers lingered on your wrist.

He finally gets go, frowning.

"I just wanted to check, thought you were mad at me yesterday or something."

"No no no, opposite of mad! I just get, er overwhelmed is all." You babble at him.

"Oh okay, still not sure I get it but glad you're not mad at me." He stops and looks down, avoiding your eyes for a moment. "You wanna join me and Jeff and Gareth on Friday? We're gonna pile round Jeffs, watch a movie?" He looks up at you and you can't help but be reminded of a puppy, those big brown eyes impossible to say no to.

"...sure Eddie." At that he beams at you and strokes your arm. Your breath hitches, you don't know if he notices.

"Cool, we're meeting at 8. See you sweetheart." And he leaves. You stand there dazed for a second. Sweetheart. That was new. Maybe Eddie does like you. Smiling, you head to your next lesson.

***********************

When Friday rolls around you're a trembling ball of nerves. What if you had misread? What if he was just being nice?

You dress casually; a pair of black jeans, a black tank top and sneakers. Not anything special, but the top was lower cut than the usual plain coloured t shirts you wore at school. You threw on a red flannel shirt leaving it unbuttoned, just in case it was chilly at Jeff's house, and walked your way over there since it was only a couple of blocks away. You had come prepared with snacks. What teenage boy doesn't love food? You had an enormous bag of popcorn and a Tupperware full of homemade cookies. The cookies were probably a bit much but you had made them simply for something to do with all your nervous energy and it seemed a shame to waste them.

Walking up Jeff's driveway you check the time. 20:08. Not too late, you didn't want to be rude, but you didn't want to be the first there. Ringing the bell, you heard footsteps running to the door. Jeff answers, swinging the door wide, and waves at you to come in.

"Stairs just to the left, everyone's in the basement." He shouts over his shoulder, turning to the kitchen to get drinks. You make your way downstairs. It's slightly dark, but cozy. Theres a very old green loveseat with a coffee table in front of it, strewn with snacks, beer bottles and an ashtray. In front of that is a fairly new TV and VCR. Gareth is taking over half of the couch. To one side of the room there's a huge purple beanbag. Eddie is lounging in it.

"Hey sweetheart." He grins and waves a hand at you. Gareth greets you and you move to put your snacks on the table.

"Hey, cookies, you can come again!" You hear Jeff behind you. You giggle at that. He passes you a beer.

"No worries I had some time to kill you know." Before you can sit on the sofa Jeff collapses onto it ungracefully, handing beers to Gareth and Eddie.

Faltering for a second, you look around the room for another chair.

"Plenty of room on this if you dont mind sharing? I don't bite!" Eddie looks at you, grinning. Shit.

"Not worried about your mouth, I'm worried about your hands." You quip at him. Jeff and Gareth laugh, and Jeff starts putting the movie in the VCR, some slasher flick you hadn't seen.

"Hey, young lady, I'm a perfect gentlemen." Eddie puts his hands in the air as if surrendering, and winks at you.

No use arguing the point. As you are making your way over, he shuffles up. You sit down carefully, but it doesnt seem to matter how you sit, you roll right into Eddie. You were pushed right up against him, your side flush with his. He lowers his arms and drapes one over your shoulder. You sit, legs squeezed together, picking at the label on your beer bottle, trying hard not to think about Eddie's warmth seeping into you. Why was he so warm?

The cookies were a hit, as was the popcorn. About halfway through the movie Jeff gets up to get everyone another beer. You take that as an opportunity to take your shirt off. Eddie was like a furnace and you needed some sort of relief. Sitting back down you nearly sit on top of him, the back of your shoulder flush to his chest.

"Sorry Eddie I'll move-"

"No problem princess this is comfier." And he rests his chin on the bare skin on your shoulder. The arm that was around you now falls to your waist. The feeling was intense. You could feel his heart beating, or at least you thought you could. Maybe it was just your own. The heat emanating from him and the touch of his skin on yours was dizzying. You try and keep your breathing steady.

Jeff returns and hands out the beers and you take yours gratefully, it's something to distract you from the feeling building up between your thighs.

Eddie sips his beer and settles his chin back on your shoulder, watching the movie. You're paying no attention, it was difficult to think when you were surrounded by Eddie.

"Sorry sweetheart can I just-" Eddie says, startling you out of your revelry. He reaches up and strokes your neck, moving some stray hairs of yours that were sticking to your neck and were presumably in his face. The touch is so delicate but it thrums through you. It feels like he's played a chord on your neck and your body has amplified the feeling, sending a shiver all over your skin.

His hand drops back down to your waist and his fingers find a sliver of bare skin between your jeans and your top. Just the feel of his rough fingertips on your exposed skin, after he had given you goosebumps so easily pushed you over the edge. Before you could stop it, a breathy moan escaped your throat. It wasn't particularly loud, but it didnt need to be. It didn't look like Jeff or Gareth heard, but there was no way Eddie didn't. He turned his head towards you so you could feel his breath on your neck which was definitely not helping.

You didn't need to look at him to know he heard. You could practically hear the smirk on his face when he whispered "sorry sweetheart, am I overwhelming you?" Fuckfuckfuck. You could hear your own heart beating profusely. Squeezing your thighs together, you manage to respond.

"No-no, I'm okay," an octave higher than you meant to.

"If it's an issue sweetheart I can sit on the floor-"

"No!" Too loud. Far too loud. Where did that come from? Jeff and Gareth glance over at the sudden noise.

Eddie's grin widens. "Just making sure you're comfy." Jeff and Gareth turn their attention back to the movie, having a discussion about where they recognise the leading actress from.

You sit still, trying not to breathe too loud, alternating between sipping your beer and picking off the label. Eddie moves his head from your shoulder much to your relief, but his hand stays at your waist, gently caressing the exposed skin.

After the movie you hang around for a bit chatting, then make your excuses to get up and leave.

"Hey, wait sweetheart, need a ride?" Eddie stands up.

"I live like two blocks away, it's fine." You turn to the door and start walking upstairs with Eddie at your heels.

"Then I can walk you back. No big deal."

"I'm fine, seriously. I'm a big girl. Tie my own shoes and everything." You smile at him.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" He blurts out suddenly.

You blink at him, surprised. "Er, maybe?"

"Look, I'll pick you up, 7 o clock, we can come to mine, chill out, maybe watch a movie?"

"Sure Eddie that sounds nice."

He moves towards you, arms outstretched for a hug. Complying, you soften at his touch. It's gentle, much gentler than the bone crunching hugs you are used to from him. One hand strokes your back softly. Before you pull away, Eddie's breath is in your ear.

"Maybe if you're up for it, I can try and get you to make that noise again." He whispers smugly.

You pull away, mouth gaping whilst he stares at you, smirk on his lip, head tilted at you.

"I... erm, maybe" you stutter out and head out of the house before you make more of a fool of yourself.

***********************

Saturday evening finally crawled around. You were excited but were trying to push down the feeling. You didn't want to come across too eager, it was a problem that happened all too often with you.

A bundle of clothes in various states were spread out before you; you were trying to pick something to wear. You decided on a pleated skirt, not too short, and a crop top. Checking yourself out in the mirror you thought you looked hot, but then again, maybe it was too needy? You shrugged your flannel shirt on to try and calm it down a bit, doing up a couple of buttons. Slinging on your sneakers you looked at the time. 18:46.

Downstairs you lay on the couch, feet dangling off the edge, waiting for a knock at the door. The house was quiet, your parents had gone out a while ago for a weekend away. Trying to calm yourself, you make a mental list of all the objects in the living room. Its helps to centre you, until theres a loud knock at the door.

Opening it you see Eddie's huge grin. He's wearing his usual attire; Hellfire t shirt, jeans and leather jacket.

"Jesus Christ you look hot" Eddie says before he can stop himself.

"Thank you" you blush.

"Parents around?"

"No they're away all weekend." You say, grabbing a jacket and locking the door behind you.

"Thank fuck let's go." You giggle as he grabs your hand and you let him lead you to his van.

Eddie starts to drive as Dio blares through the speaker, and you surprise Eddie by nodding along.

"Oh, you like this stuff sweetheart?"

"Yeah, I mean nothing too heavy, but this is great." You grin.

Eddie returns the smile out the side of his mouth. Soon enough he's turning into the entrance to the trailer park he calls home.

Getting out of the van he runs around to the passenger side and opens the door for you with a low bow. You blush and take his hand as he leads you to the door.

"Now, don't get your hopes up, I know it's pretty impressive from the outside but..." he opens the door and let's you go in first.

You take in the surroundings. It's a bit cramped, but homely. There's a sofa and tv, and a small kitchen area. Hats adorn the wall, you assume his uncles. It seems relatively clean, just cluttered. There's something about it that feels welcoming. You sigh, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

Eddie seems pleased that you haven't run a mile after seeing the place.

"Wheres your room?" You look up at him.

"Steady on sweetheart you just got here" he winks at you.

You hit him playfully on the chest "shut up Eddie."

He gestures to you to take a seat on the couch and you take it gratefully.

"So, what do you want to watch? I rented a few, wasn't sure what you were into."

He gestured to the small pile of videos on the side table. Glancing over the selection you pick out a movie and hand it to Eddie.

"Nightmare on Elm Street? Didn't peg you for a slasher flick girl." He put the film in the VCR.

"Yeah well I've not actually seen it yet." You admit.

"Really? Well buckle up buttercup! You wanna beer? Or a smoke?"

"Is your uncle-"

"-at work. Dont worry." He gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Your breath hitched in your throat. 'Lemme grab my tin."

He returns, battered lunch box in hand, and sits on the floor to roll whilst you start watching the film. It's amazing how comfortable you feel around him. Usually you were on edge being at someone else's house, but Eddie made you feel like you belonged there. You kicked off your shoes and curled your feet up on the sofa.

Eddie joins you. Lighting the joint he takes a couple of tokes then hands it to you. You pass it back and forth for a bit until you start to feel an effect. Giving the last of the joint back to him you say "finish it, that's more than enough for me." You smile at him lazily, head feeling slightly foggy.

"Oh, have I got you stoned sweetheart?" He looks at you, eyes full of mischief.

"Maybe, like this much" you say, holding your thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

"Hmm" he says frowning "not buying it. You want a soda, or some water?" You shake your head. He gets up anyway and gets you a glass of water. Taking it you appease him by drinking a few sips. He flops down again and puts his arm around you.

Settling into watching the movie you start to enjoy it, your high mellowing you a little. It's ridiculous but fun, and some of the special effects impress you. The boy on the screen is attacked unexpectedly and it makes you flinch bodily. Eddie sees this and pulls you closer to him, his hand stroking the top of your arm. Eddie starts explaining how they did the blood on the ceiling effect, waving his hand for emphasis. When he stops his hand comes to rest on your knee. You can't help it, you twitch at the feeling, it's like lightning up your leg.

"You okay sweetheart?" Eddie's face is frowning down at you.

"Yeah sure it's nothing."

Eddie's not buying it. He pauses the movie and looks at you.

"Something's going on princess. And it's either good or bad. Or both, I can't tell. Can you let me know? Did I do something wrong?" Eddie looks at you with those puppy dog eyes of his and its almost heartbreaking.

"No Eddie, you're perfect. I like you. It's just... I'm really, um, sensitive. Loud noises and stuff get to me, emotion wise I kinda run hot. Things affect me like, a lot. And I'm really, really touch sensitive." You see some understanding dawn on his face.

"Ah, right, okay, so is that good sensitive, or bad sensitive?"

"It depends. I mean if it's someone gross it feels horrible brushing past them. If it's someone I like, and I'm in a good mood, it's, well it's, hmm... overwhelming." You know he knows what you're trying to say, you dont want to have to say it out loud.

Eddie smirks at you, eyes like the devil himself.

"So, if I do this..." he says, fingertips tracing circles on your knee. Your breath catches in your throat. "It's nice." You manage.

"Hmm" his hand moves higher, onto the inside of your thigh, just under the hem on your skirt, with feather light touches. "And this?" Dark eyes stare down at you. A small moan escapes your lips. "Jesus Eddie..."

Eddie let's out a dark chuckle. He moves his hand off of your leg and you find yourself almost trying to follow the contact. His hand comes to rest on your jaw, guiding your head to turn and face him.

"What about this?" He says, eyes darting to your lips and back again, looking for confirmation. You close the gap and press your lips against his.

You've kissed before, messy, sloppy things, but never like this. His kiss is fire, igniting through you. The press of his lips against yours firm and warm. His tongue tentatively reaches out and you submit to him, allowing him to explore your mouth. You reply in kind, using your tongue to swipe against his, moving your hand to weave into his hair. He snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He draws a deep moan from your mouth, the pure pleasure of the moment taking over you. You can feel his mouth turn at the corners, smiling into you.

He breaks the kiss first, panting slightly. "Was that okay?" He says, hand remaining on your jaw, thumb gently swiping your chin.

You want to say something sarcastic, or flirty, or, well anything. All that comes from your mouth is a half broken whine. Face flushed pink and breath well and truly taken.

"That bad huh?" He chuckles and drops his hand.

"Wow- I mean, Jesus- it's not usually that, er-, intense. Fuck." You continue to try and catch your breath.

"Gonna take that as a sign that maybe you like me, as much as I like you?" Its not a question, but the head tilt and the look from him make it one.

"Maybe. I mean, I've liked you for a while Eddie."

"I've liked you since you sat with us at lunch." He says to you, eyes sparkling, looking a little sheepish. "Why do you think I saved you a seat every day?"

"Seriously? Why didn't you say anything?" You take his hand in yours, fiddling with his rings.

"You seemed like, really shy. Didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

You smile at him softly. "Not shy, just... sensitive. I've had a lot of shit in the past from people, saying that I come across too keen, so I kinda dial it back. Plus I don't exactly want to invite people touching me, you know."

"Except me?" He says smugly.

"Except you." You nod.

He entwines his fingers with yours, looking down for a moment. "You shouldn't care what people think you know." He looks back at you "don't make yourself less for anyone."

Your eyes well up instantly at that. Wiping a stray tear from your eye you respond, "sorry, no ones ever said that before." You smile weakly.

He presses a soft peck to your lips. "Wanna finish the movie?"

"Okay"

Eddie presses play and this time you lean into his arms, pulling his arm around your shoulders and holding his hand. You hear a soft chuckle from him. His other hand comes to rest on your knee, tracing absent minded circles. You bask in the feeling of his warm body pressed against you for a moment.

After a few minutes it's just too much.

"Jesus Eddie why are you so warm?"

"I don't know, you must bring it out in me princess."

You giggle and lean forward, taking off your shirt, and snuggle back next to him. Eddie's eyes are no longer on the movie. He's looking at you and your exposed midriff. His hand tentatively moves from your knee to your stomach. Before he touches you he whispers "this okay?"

You turn your head to him to say yes, planting a quick kiss on his cheek and keep watching the movie.

Eddie's fingers find your flesh, stroking so softly it sends shivers over you. You feel your skin break out in goosebumps. His fingertips dance over you with such care. He flattens his hand and strokes it across your abdomen, the tip of his thumb just brushing the underside of your breast and you inhale suddenly whilst squeezing your thighs together. He lightly scratches across your stomach with his fingernails and you let out a quiet, low moan.

"Eddie-" you turn and realise he's been watching you the whole time.

"What? This is so much more interesting than watching Krueger, trust me."

"Eddie I didn't tell you so you can take advantage!" You say, but theres no malice in it. You smile at him.

Eddie, ever the dramatic, wobbles his head at you and mimics your voice, "Oh Eddie, I'm like, really sensitive, and the smallest touch turns me on but don't do anything about it!"

"I don't sound like that!" You laugh loudly at him, your frame shaking. "And that's not what I said!"

"That's what I heard sweetheart. What do you want me to do? Sit on my hands??" He wiggles his fingers at you and with exaggerated movements forcefully sits on his own hands, frowning and flicking his head the opposite way.

"Eddie?" You touch his shoulder. If anything he turns his head even further away. You can't help but giggle.

"Eddie..." you say in a sing song voice. Nothing.

"Eddie!" Still nothing. You get up as if to leave, but turn to him and straddle his lap. His head is still turned so you take the opportunity to kiss at his neck, trailing kisses and small nibbles.

"Now that's just unfair sweetheart."

"No" you say, still peppering him with kisses "this is unfair" and you mouth the spot where his neck meets his shoulder and suck, hard.

"Holy shit." Eddie wriggles but realises hes trapped himself, his hands stuck under both his weight and yours.

You release his neck with a wet pop and sit back on his lap with a smug smile. Something hard is digging into you, you wiggle slightly and...

Oh.

"Had enough revenge?" Eddie tilts his head at you, raising his eyebrows. You shift your weight so he can free his hands, momentarily lost for words. He reaches out to move some stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ear.

"C'mere." He puts his hand to the back of your head and guides you towards him, mouth finding yours.

God, you could become addicted to this feeling. His mouth on yours, hands caressing your waist and hips, his warmth between your legs. You feel a pulse deep inside you, spreading in your core. You roll your hips, grinding your heat down on his jean covered member, drawing a deep groan from both of you.

You plant one hand firmly on the back of the couch, the other in his hair, and deepen the kiss. Every touch feels electric. His palms pressing into your hips leave tingles in their wake. You grind against him again, feeling yourself getting wetter, moaning into his mouth, the feeling building until you know you need to stop. That was embarrassingly fast. You break the kiss and look at him, chest rising and falling heavily.

"Sorry, I have to stop or I'll..." you blush crimson and look away.

"Or you'll what?" He says until his eyes widen. "Oh, were you gonna come?" The last word a whisper. You nod your head.

"Fuck that's so hot. Please don't stop." His hands move to stroke your thighs, bucking his hips into you. You let out a broken moan. Eddie's hands reach under your skirt and grab you by the ass. You lean forward and kiss him again, with urgency this time, tongues clashing. You grind against him, trembling with pleasure. Breaking the kiss you throw your head back, eyes closed, mouth parted.

"Eddie, fuck, oh God yes Eddie!"

You release; the hot, incredible feeling spreads throughout your limbs. Grinding against Eddie you try to keep the high going as long as possible.

Finally coming to a stop, you look down at his face. You want to feel embarrassed but he nearly looks as fucked as you feel, red in the face, hair clinging to his sweaty brow, eyebrows knitted together, mouth slightly open. Chuckling and smiling shyly at him, you move some hair from his face, mirroring what he did to you earlier.

"You okay sweetheart?" He looks at you, stroking your thighs.

"Yeah you could say that" you laugh "how about you?"

"Me? I nearly came in my pants, Jesus Christ!"

You giggle and hide your face in your hands. "Sorry." You say again as if on instinct.

"Hey" he grabs your wrists, "pretty girl, look at me." You reluctantly turn your head back to face him.

"This might be the best day of my life, so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop apologising." You giggle but Eddie looks at you with a serious face.

"Okay Eddie, I'll stop apologising." You climb off his lap and flop next to him on the couch. When you look over you cannot help but see an unmistakable wet patch on his jeans.

You look at it and your eyes flick back to his face. Staring at him he raises his eyebrows at you.

"No. More. Apologising. That's fucking hot." He states, gesturing to his crotch.

"We missed the movie" you say lately, pouting at him.

"Well, I think I've just found my favourite thing to do, and it's a hell of a lot better than watching a movie" Eddie says waggling his eyebrows at you. Sniggering, you bat your eyelashes.

"So, you ready to show me your room?"

"Well, how can I resist when you pull that face?"

He gets up off the couch and walks to the back of the trailer, opening the far door.

"Well, you coming sweetheart?" He gestures at you to follow.

Stepping into his room, you don't know what to expect. It's a mess, not exactly dirty but theres stuff everywhere. Posters adorn every available wall space. Tapes flow over the small desk to one side. Theres note paper and clothes on the floor, and an overflowing ashtray on the bedside table.

"Yeah, wasn't expecting you to come in here, maid's day off and all." He grabs the ashtray and a couple of empty bottles and jogs out the room to dispose of them. Returning with a clean ashtray, he places it on the bedside table and comes behind you, holding you at the waist. His lips press on your neck, sweeping open mouthed kisses from your jaw to your shoulder and back again, hands pressing firmly into your hips as if he thought you might slip away.

Leaning back you bask in the feeling, tipping your head back and smiling.

"Stay" he whispers, almost too quietly; so quiet you're not sure you heard.

"What?"

"Stay." A little louder this time, still peppering you with kisses.

"You mean stay the night?" You question, turning your head to face him, butterflies exploding in your belly. Fingertips ghost your sides, tracing your figure.

"The night." Still kissing your neck, he continues, "the weekend," trailing kisses down your back, meeting the exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake, getting down on his knees to kiss the small of your back, "forever."

Turning to face him he looks up at you, huge brown eyes boring into your soul. Giggling and mussing his hair with your hand you stare back, the question burning in your mind.

Eddie knows. Eddie always knows.

"What's on your mind sweetheart?" He smiles into your skin, nipping and kissing where your skirt meets your stomach.

"Not much when you keep doing that, Jesus."

"Sorry," he grins, smug smile spreading across his face, "it's hard to stop myself."

"It's just... is this real? I mean, you said you like me, but do you... I mean, is this..." you wring your hands, trying to make the words surface in your head.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Eddie grasps your hands; you have no choice but to turn your head down to face him.

"When I said this might be the best day of my life, I fuckin' meant it. You're literally the girl of my dreams. I've been dreaming of you, actually." He presses his mouth to you again, running his fingers along the waistband of your skirt. You sigh in response, legs shaking slightly.

"Jesus Eddie-"

"Not Jesus, just me." He chuckles, hands drifting to your legs, stroking your thighs.

"Fuck Eddie wait..."

"Sorry, you just, you do things to me." He smiles up at you.

"Are we, are we a thing now?"

"What like a couple? Sure, I'm not letting you go anywhere."

Your tummy does a backflip, hoping, longing.

"Well maybe I can stay. I just, I want you to be sure, you know. And I've never, done much with boys. In case you think I'm not... any good."

Eddie gasps at that, his eyes soften. "Oh sweetheart, theres no universe out there where you could possibly not be any good, in any way. You're amazing."

"So, you gonna get up off the floor, or..." you giggle.

"I'm pretty happy here, unless you don't want me to." He flips your skirt up and sees just how wet your panties are. A low groan escapes his throat. You shut your eyes for a second, trying to gather yourself.

"Eddie, I'm trying to say..."

"Yes, I know baby I know. Seriously, if you want me to stop, tell me. I'll stop. You can still stay. We can just go to sleep. Or cuddle." His eyes meet yours, brow furrowed.

You back up a little and you see the disappointment Eddie tries to hide written over his face. Smiling, you sit on the edge of his bed, wriggling your hands down from your hips to your ankles. Eddie looks at you in confusion until you open your hand, your underwear in your palm.

"Now that's the best magic trick I've ever seen!" His eyes wide, grin threatening to split his face in half. You can only blush in response. Waddling over to you on his knees, Eddie grabs your hand and takes your panties. Before you can say anything they've been shoved into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Eddie!"

"What?"

"I hope I'm getting them back..."

"Getting what back?" Eddie grins wolfishly, pressing kisses to the inside of your knee.

The will to argue dissipates when his kisses trail higher and higher. With deft movements his rough fingers are rubbing the insides of your thighs, travelling towards your throbbing pussy. Leaning back onto your elbows you gaze at Eddie through half lidded eyes, wondering how you could have possibly gotten this lucky. As if he could sense your attention he glances up, running his tongue dangerously near your sex. You moan at the sensation, fingers grabbing the comforter underneath you.

"Fuck, you're just so responsive," he plants a kiss to your mound and you squirm, moaning.

"Oh, we are going to have a lot of fun sweetheart." Eddie smirked at you, eyes shining.

"Eddie please..." you wriggle, skirt riding up to your hips, cunt on full display for him.

He lifts your legs up and over his shoulders. The swipe of his tongue over your tender heat is sudden, sending rivers of pleasure through you. Gently he laps at you, his thumbs pressing bruises into your thighs. The feeling is immense, flowing, molten fire running through your veins. It's both too much and not enough, you need more, more feeling, more Eddie.

"Oh God Eddie..."

He takes your clit into his mouth and sucks softly. Licking and kissing at you; you buck into him, chasing the feeling, unimaginable heat coiling in your stomach, chest, wrists. Nothing matters except this moment. Incoherent babble escapes your lips, telling him not to stop and how good it feels, then just his name, over and over and over.

Eddie's groaning into you, the vibration nearly sending you over the edge. With a final suck to your swollen bud you come, clenching around nothing. You buck and writhe against his face, using it to chase never ending pleasure. Lewd, erotic noises fall from your mouth but you can't find it in you to care. All that matters is you, and Eddie, and the feeling.

Shaking and whimpering you start to come down, well and truly spent. Knuckles white from how hard you were clinging to the bed clothes. Realising this you finally loosen your grip. Eddie moves your still twitching legs off of his shoulders and looks up at you. Your slick is coating his lower face, shining in the light. Eddie literally looks like the cat that got the cream. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

"I've changed my mind, that is my new favourite thing to do" he says with a roguish grin.

Your smile at him, arms reaching out, making grabby hands at him. Chuckling he climbs over you, straddling you. You kiss him full on the mouth, lingering tang of you on his lips. Fingers stroke down to his waist, fiddling with his belt.

"Woah princess no need. Literally." He looks you in the eye, and you stare back, hand reaching to his manhood, and glance down.

Oh.

"Did you-"

"Cum in my pants? Yup." Literally no shame in his voice; he almost looks proud.

You giggle, hand to your mouth. It's almost a relief, having no real idea of what to do with it anyway. Plus, it's nice to know you have a similar effect on him.

"So, I'm gonna clean up and get changed. You need something to sleep in?"

"I'm ok, I usually sleep naked, if that's not a problem?" Your eyes meeting his.

Groaning, Eddie throws his head back, hands to his face, and falls backwards to the floor. You gasp, then realise this is Eddie being his usual self.

"Holy shit sweetheart you cannot say shit like that to me. I've died. I've literally died, and I'm in heaven, and you're some sort of angel." He splays his arms wide, tongue out, eyes closed. Shaking your head you throw a pillow at him, jerking him out of it.

"No need for the vicious attack, I'm having a moment."

He jumps up to go to the bathroom. Stripping off and climbing under the covers, you take a minute whilst he's away to think, really think. It's so hard when he's so near, clouding your judgement. You know you can be impulsive. Is this too much too soon? Am I gonna make a fool of myself? Does he really like me as much as I like him? Your emotions usually get the best of you and the constant struggle is exhausting. Maybe you don't need to think about this tonight. Enjoy tonight, let tomorrow be what it is.

When Eddie returns, all doubt is erased from your mind. He's standing there in a pair of plaid boxers, and his eyes light up at the sight of you in his bed. The look he gives you makes you feel like you're the only girl in the world.

Smiling shyly at him, he stands at the foot of the bed, continuing to stare.

"Something on your mind Eddie?"

"No I'm good, just a bit... overwhelmed." Knowing smirk plastered on his face.

"I can probably help you with that, you know."

"Well, it seems like we've got all night." The look on his face is pure sin.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things fan fic #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fanfic

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lilywastaken · 1 year

Text

⇝ shadow .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART TWO OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: All Simon wants is to explain his disappearance to you, but he can't really expect you to be willing to listen.

WARNINGS: AFAB!Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N!), Mentions of NSFW, Angst, Pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications, Soft!Dad!Simon.

A/N: Second chapter!! Almost exactly a week after the first one LMAO. No smut in this one, I'm afraid, but some very fluffy moments between Simon and Tommy! <333 Once again, please reblog and comment if you enjoy this, it helps a lot!!!

WORD COUNT: 10k.

MASTERLIST.

Also on Ao3!

You were pretty sure your fingers were about to snap.

The grip you had on the door could rival that of a professional arm wrestler, your whole body stiff and frozen in place as your gaze locked onto Simon's.

Was it even Simon? His eyes didn't hold the same warmth it had the last time you'd seen him, his body wasn't as relaxed as it had felt beneath your touch, his whole frame covered in dark clothing that left his eyes as the only source of light that shone through that shadow of a man.

Well, you couldn't even consider them that, his blue orbs lacked that speck of light you'd grown accustomed to seeing in your son's; it left him looking like a ghost, a shell of a man. But maybe that was appropriate, he never did look like the kind of bloke you'd expect to be kind or sweet, he suited more the idea of a cold, ruthless man that had abandoned you and your son.

Even after having spent a night in his arms, felt the touch of his lips on your skin, memorised the feeling of his cock inside of you; he was still a stranger to you, a man you had idolised so much during the first days after your encounter that he had begun to form into someone completely different in your mind.

And now that he was in front of you, you knew. This wasn't the Simon from your dreams that held you in his arms, the Simon from your dreams that pressed kisses to your swollen belly whenever the baby would kick, the Simon from your dreams that hadn't left.

It was like a slap in the face.

One that brought you back to reality, that flushed away any daydream or idealised version you had of him from your mind, and forced you to focus on the man standing in front of you.

"You-"

"Did you keep it?"

As if you'd been sucker punched right in the gut, you felt the air leave your lungs, the words you had intended to speak sitting on the tip of your tongue like the bitter taste of black tea.

"It? Wh-"

"Him. Our son."

Our son.

It was funny, how he'd managed to say the two simple words that immediately made your blood boil in rage, tears forming at the corner of your eyes out of frustration as.

"Oh, so he's our son now?" You willed yourself to keep calm, but you couldn't help how your voice wavered when you spoke, this whole situation baring to be too much to handle along with your already declining mental state. "You didn't seem very interested before."

"I was gone."

"Oh, trust me, I know." You snarled, your harsh tone causing him to look away from you, whether it was in shock or fear, you didn't care. At least you couldn't feel small beneath his stare if he wasn't looking. "How long has it fucking been, Simon? A year. 9 months carrying your child and 3 months raising him. You have no fucking right to come knocking now and asking to see him."

"You don't understa-"

"I don't need to fucking understand, Simon!" You cried out, your voice ringing down the hall and in Ghost's ears, "I was alone! I am alone! I went through a terrifying pregnancy on my own because you couldn't bother to pick up the goddamn phone! Where were you when I needed you!? Where were you when the doctor told me that the birth might leave irreparable damage on my body!? Where were you when I almost lost him!?"

Silence filled the building, dull ringing in Ghost's ears from how loud you'd shouted, his gaze shifting up from the floor to you, his heart skipping a beat at your dishevelled state, your flushed face and tear stained cheeks, the hand that had been resting on the door now clenching your shirt right above your heart, as if the simple act of talking to him pained you to no end.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fucking cut it, Simon. Sorry doesn't make up for this past year, for all the fucking pain I went through while you were, what, ignoring me the whole time!? Waiting until an 'acceptable' time to show up and fucking demand to see him!?"

"I'm not demanding." You flinched as one of his hands came to slam onto the top of the door that separated the both of you, his hand clenching around the wood hard enough to break it, and you knew that if he wanted to, he could. "I'm asking. I'm asking to see him, for you to let me explain why I was gone."

Your lower lip quivered at the way he spoke, so calm and composed compared to you, who'd let your emotions take control of your words and had just

"I don't know what you went through. I don't think I'll ever be able to understand. And.. I'm, I'm sorry, that you were forced to go through it alone," The apology that slipped through his lips sounded almost forced, like it was his first time hearing and speaking the words out of his mouth. "I'm not here just to see him. I'm here because you deserve an explanation on why I wasn't here. And I know it won't take away the pain, but I ho-"

The door slammed shut.

Ghost was left outside of your apartment, hand still testing on the flimsy wood of your door, staring at the point where your eyes had been mere seconds ago.

You'd closed the door on him.

You'd ripped any chances he'd had of seeing his son and explaining himself to you in half.

He'd gone through his speech for hours in the car, making sure that he wouldn't come off as rude or mean to you, that everything was explained slowly and coherently, but you'd just… Closed the door on him.

It was a funny sight, really. A giant of a man standing in the corridor of a beat down building in the middle of Manchester, outwardly looking like a kicked puppy if it weren't for the fire that was burning inside of him, bubbling beneath his skin as he got the urge to rip the whole fucking door off just so would fucking listen to-

The door opened again, properly, this time. No little gap where he could barely see your full body, where you were able to hide from him in fear that he'd do something disastrous like he'd just been thinking of.

You were letting him in.

That much was obvious, by the way your shaking frame was glued to the wall of the small corridor, allowing him space to cross through into the apartment he'd spent the night in a year ago.

No words had to be spoken, the reluctant look on your face telling him more than enough.

The few steps he took to enter your apartment felt like crossing a border to another world, one that he couldn't recognise as much as he tried to think back to the last time he'd been there.

Everything had changed. The wallpaper with the flowers that reminded him of his grandma's old home had been striped, replaced with a more cool paint over; the dingy sofa where he'd ripped your tights open was replaced with a much more softer and plush looking model, one that could no doubt be pulled into a bed; the bookshelf he'd gotten the sticky notes from had been ridden of many of the books that had littered it, replaced with children's books and a few pictures, baby toys strewn across the floor in front of it.

It felt like a whole different place than what he remembered. He didn't know what he had expected, for you to have a child and for nothing to change? He was aware of the chaos that a child brought, remembering how annoyed he himself had been as everything started to change around him when his brother had been born, the need it brought to rearrange the whole house to accommodate the baby and not have any dangerous items lying around.

Ghost made a mental note to himself as he picked up one of the picture frames from next to the small telly to clean up his own house before bringing his son there (if he was even allowed to), recalling the dust and grime that covered the corners of his rooms, the glass shards from the last time he'd drunk and passed out on the sofa littering his floors.

You pushed the door closed behind you both, shaky hands pressing onto the cool wood in an attempt to ground yourself, trying not to focus on the silent yet imposing footsteps of your son's father.

You don't know what possessed you to open the door, to let him into your space, that he'd now taken over like a shadow. He looked so… out of place.

A demon along the angels, a ghost along the living.

His dark clothes contrasted heavily with the bright colours of your son's toys that laid strewn across the floor, with the soft colours your walls were painted in, with the colourful blankets that you'd tried spicing up the sofa with, despite no one being able to appreciate them other than you.

It didn't feel right.

It didn't feel right to have him here, walking around your home like he belonged there, like he'd been there all along. It was wrong.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, like your throat was closing off and preventing any air from reaching your lungs properly. Your nails dug into your own palms as you clenched your hands closed, trying your best to even out your breathing and focus on anything but the impending conversation you'd have to have with him.

You could hear him say something, but your brain was so caught up with trying to stop yourself from spiralling that it didn't even comprehend what he was saying. The balaclava over his face was moving, indicating that he was speaking, but not a single sound was reaching your ears.

Your body was trembling at this point, mouth gasping for air as your throat continued to constrict, your eyes going blurry with tears as you watched him come closer to you, mouth still moving.

"Breathe." Two hard hands grabbed onto your shoulders, shaking you out of your stupor bordering on what you could easily identify as a panic attack, ones that you'd been prone to ever since you gave birth. "Look at me. Breathe."

Simon immediately knew what was happening without even having to look at you.

The laboured breaths that were leaving you were enough to activate the alarms in his head, recognising them immediately. He'd heard them many times before coming from him, his teammates, the people whose heads were pressed against his gun. You were spiralling, falling into the harming grasp of your anxiety and letting it infect your body.

When he got a panic attack, Simon rode through it. The therapist that Price had assigned him a few years ago had advised him to consider doing breathing exercises whenever he showed signs of having one, but during the year he'd seen her and the years to come, not once had he considered doing them. Sometimes, he felt like he deserved to feel like that, like he was suffocating, like his heart was about to be ripped out; for all the pain and suffering he'd inflicted on others, he deserved to feel at least a sliver of it.

But the thought of letting you experience that same pain, the same panic, the same hopelessness he felt whenever he'd cave into his depression, it wasn't a good one.

So despite his initial lack of remembrance of the exercises his therapist had offered, he tried his best to talk you through it, hands grasping at your shoulders and squeezing every time he saw you start to slip away back into that pit of anxiety, keeping his eyes on yours through the whole thing, not letting you go until you'd stopped shaking and your breath had become even once again.

You'd been so focused on the anxiety coursing through your veins that you hadn't even realised who was helping you through it, blindlessly following orders and breathing along with him, your brain subconsciously recognising his voice as something to cling onto, to pull you out of your own plunging thoughts.

But as soon as you realised whose eyes you were gazing into, whose hands were holding you down, you panicked again. Your own hands came up to push him away, the action catching him off guard and making him take a few small steps back from you, eyes still fixed on yours.

"Are y-"

"Shut up." You breathed out, interrupting him for what seemed like the 100th time that night, mimicking him and taking a few steps away from him and wrapping your arms over your upper body. "Sit."

Ghost finally tore his stare away from you to look down at the sofa, hesitantly taking the first steps forward like a cat meeting its owner for the first time before finally taking a seat on the sofa, sinking into the plush pillows thanks to his weight and looking around from the new perspective.

"Do you normally have panic attacks?" He spoke up, thankful that you didn't interrupt him this time, voicing his concern.

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down at your fuzzy socks as you thought back to all the times you'd had to go through them on your own sitting at the doctor's office, lying in bed after putting Tommy to sleep, looking at yourself in the mirror after your labour…

Your doctor had warned you about the rollercoaster of emotions your body would go through after giving birth, including the depression many women suffered that unfortunately had affected you too during the first few weeks; but you hadn't expected it to continue until this late.

"...sometimes." You mumbled, hands running up and down your arms as you squirmed beneath his glare. "It's normal. For a lot of women."

He didn't answer, nodding in response instead before turning his head to the side table, where a small picture of a very tiny Tommy sat, his hand itching towards it to take it in properly.

The silence that followed what you could barely call a conversation was unbearable. The tension that hung in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, the silence almost suffocating you as you tried to muster up the courage to speak up if he wasn't going to, despite him having almost broken down your door in order to talk.

"...so? Are you going to explain?"

Simon stayed quiet, the whole speech he'd rehearsed back in his car suddenly fizzing away from his mind like a shooting star in the night sky. He was left with barely an outline of what he wanted to say, a vague idea of everything he'd tried his best to put into words before seeing you.

But actually having you in front of him, sitting on the same sofa he'd once pressed you against, gazing into the eyes he'd once thought so much about before the start of that god awful mission, made every last thread of sanity that remained in him snapped.

He was sure that without the mask he'd look like a fool, mouth slightly open and half lidded slate blue eyes fluttering with every blink, transfixed by the vision that was you, in front of him.

"Look, if you're not even going to fucking talk, you can just go right back out the fu-"

"I can't tell you exactly what happened." You stopped mid-rant, cheeks burning in embarrassment after being the one who was interrupted this time. "My job doesn't allow it."

His job? Was he really blaming everything on his job? What kind of goddamn profession forced you to go radio silent for a whole year?

"What do you work in?"

"..." Simon regarded you with a poignant sheen in his eyes, clearly at odds with deciding what to say, the truth or what he had been taught to recite in a situation like this. "I protect."

Even if he didn't outright say what his vocation was, you could do more than assume.

Protection could mean many things, like working at one of those security alarm companies to working as a bodyguard for some fancy rich guy, but with one look at the man sitting in front of you, you could tell.

And it was terrifying.

You'd assumed he was some type of bodybuilder when you'd first saw him, but as you recalled his tactical steps as he walked you down the street, the way his hand flew to his belt when you'd pass some creepy looking guy, as if he was expecting something to be hanging from there, it all started to click.

You had two options before you. He was either a fucking mercenary or military. And although both options were terrifying on their own, you hoped to whatever god that was looking down on you that it was the latter. You wouldn't know what you'd do with yourself if the father of your sweet baby boy was some type of criminal.

"You protect?" You let out, careful with your words in case you said something that you shouldn't, terrified with the prospect of him getting annoyed or angry now that you had an idea of what he did for a living.

"I protect." He parroted, lifting his hand to shove it into one of the pockets that adorned his jacket, pulling out a slim laminated piece of paper, what you could only assume was some sort of identification. "Here."

You took it hesitantly, flipping it over to scan your eyes over the confusing words that lettered the ID, mostly all words you'd never heard before in your life, but you were smart enough to grasp the concept of it.

"You work in the army?" You question, finger running over his title, repeating his newly discovered last name in your head, cursing at yourself for even thinking of how normal it would sound led by your son's name.

"SAS. Lieutenant. Can't say more than that." His gloved hand came back up to hopefully grab his ID back, but you dodged him, taking a few steps back and flipping it back over so he could see what you were pointing at.

"There's no picture." You finally referred to the black space that filled what was supposed to be a headshot of whichever soldier's ID it was. "How… how do I know this is real?"

You watched the mask move as he furrowed his eyebrows, the hand that had fallen onto his knee now gripped at the cargo pants, his eyes showing the disbelief that shot through his body.

"Y'think I made a fuckin' fake ID?" He grunted out, lifting himself from his spot on the sofa and glowering down at you, who did your best to not stand down almost immediately out of fear of his massive frame. "I don't carry 'round a picture of my face, defeats the whole purpose of my fuckin' mask."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried coming up with some type of rebuttal that would shut him right up, but you ended up once again asking another desperate question.

"That doesn't explain why you were gone."

Silence.

The crickets that sang from downstairs, the sound of the creaking from upstairs with every step one of your neighbours took, the suddenly suffocating feeling of your tiny apartment, everything seemed to increase ten fold with every second that passed.

"I can't tell you much." He leaned his head back, twisting his neck to a side to reveal some of the hair that had grown down to below his chin after a year of not properly shaving, making you look away from what almost seemed like an invasion of privacy.

"Oh, fuck you." You let out an amused scoff, unbelieving that still after everything that had happened in the short amount of time he'd been back, he still refused to say anything. "Go to hell, Simon."

"I was on a fuckin' mission. A long one. I wasn't allowed any devices, like always, so I couldn't get back to you." He looked back at you with a glare that easily rivalled yours, voice rising in volume with each word he spoke, clearly pissed off at how you were acting with him despite having tried to explain himself, but deep down he knew that it was expected from you after what you'd gone through, yet he still couldn't help but feel disappointed deep down.

"Don't raise your fucking voice at me, I'm not the one who's at blame here, Simon!" You shoved a finger into his stiff chest, doing barely as much 'damage' as you pretended to, but you did your best to get your point across.

"I'm not raising my vo-"

A high pitched cry cut through both of your raising voices, Simon's hand immediately going to his belt out of instinct while you whipped your head in the direction of Tommy's room, wincing in both fatigue and shame for having forgotten about your poor, sensitive to noises baby boy.

You put a finger up before Simon could even get the idea of heading there first, an authoritative glare on your face as you grew 10 times braver now that it came to your son's mood and well-being.

"Stay." You hissed, almost like you were reprimanding a mutt instead of a grown man. "Don't fucking follow me."

Once you were sure you'd gotten the message across, you pulled yourself away from his gaze and quickly entered your son's nursery, cooing and shushing at him as you neared his crib.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, duck, I'm sorry." You whispered, carefully picking up his fidgeting body in your arms and pressing him to your chest, rocking him as gently as you could in your told. "Mommy's sorry, she didn't mean to scare you."

His crying didn't cease, only getting louder as you desperately tried to get him to quiet down, terrified of the racket he was no doubt making for the next door neighbours, who'd probably come by tomorrow with some not very nice words.

Your hands were shaking as he still didn't calm down, a shiver running up your spine while goosebumps racked your body as you saw the light that came from the living room be blocked by a large mass of what you could only assume was Simon.

"I told you not to follow." You kept your voice small as he took slow steps towards you, not wanting to agitate Tommy even more than he already was, knowing how enervated you'd be in the morning if that was the case.

"I want to see him."

You bit down on your tongue before you shot out a snappy response, realising that this was not the time nor the place for snarky comments, as much as you wanted Simon to finally get a hint and leave you both alone.

"You haven't even told me his name."

Screwing your eyes closed, you pressed Tommy to your chest a bit tighter, both to calm the two of you down and in an attempt of caging him away from the shadow of a man towering behind you.

"You never asked for it." You felt him stop behind you as you spoke, his eyes staring holes into the back of your head, as if that would finally get you to move so he could see his son.

He stayed silent once again, looking over every single detail in the nursery, from the row of knitted stuffed animals to the plastic fluorescent stars stuck to the ceiling above the crib, eyes trailing over the bookcase that looked a bit too unstable for his liking, the screws too loose to be holding up all that weight properly.

"Did you build these yourself?" Simon watched you turn your head over your shoulder to see what he was referring to, glowering at him crossly as you looked over the furniture.

"Didn't have anyone else to do it, did I?" You snapped, going back to the crying baby in your arms as he continued to look around, gloved fingers running over some of the spines of the books that laid on the shelves, recognising some of them from his own childhood bookshelf.

"You still don't believe me, d'you?"

A beat.

The finalising sound of his footsteps exiting the room made a weight you hadn't realised was pressing on your chest dissipate out of relief, only to come back heavier than ever as he pushed the duffle bag he'd been carrying towards you with his foot.

You looked down at the spilling contents tentatively, almost worried that there was some type of danger in there that would force you to take cover or cower in a corner, but all you found were military pants and clothes, a gun hidden in its holster, and in the hand that slowly appeared in the corner of your vision, dog tags.

"Look." He brought them up closer to your face so you'd be able to see even in the dim lighting that came from the fluorescent stars stuck on the ceiling and the small nightlight, the name engraved in it identical to the one you'd found on the ID. And although most IDs were pretty easy to fake, you were pretty sure dog tags like these weren't. They had the SAS' inscription on them along with a few codes and numbers you were too ignorant about the army to understand; but for all you knew, they could be as fake as the ones some men wore as fashion.

Maybe that still wouldn't have been enough, if it weren't for the gun. England was very strict with gun laws, and the only people you'd ever seen handle one were the police and the military. So he'd either gotten one very illegally or was truly who he said he was.

And as much as you wanted it to all be fake, for him to be the random bloke you'd had sex with that had no connections to anything dangerous, you knew it wasn't. It was blatantly obvious now that he'd laid down everything in front of you like a puzzle, he was telling the truth.

And god, how much you hated it. You hated that the so-called excuse he'd used before was close to being set in stone by now, that everything was falling into place.

"They're real. I promise."

His promises meant nothing to you, and he knew that, but he had to try anything he could for you to finally believe him, to pull down the walls you'd built and let him in.

"..." You looked away from him and his outstretched hand, pulling your still weeping baby closer to you as you debated on what to do, mind torn between two headspaces.

A shaky sight left your lips as he finally started to tone down, his small pudgy hands grabbing at your sweater in an attempt to ground himself, to find a smell and feel he knew brought safety.

"...his name's Tommy."

You felt him freeze behind you, the aura around him growing cold almost immediately, like you'd just blatantly insulted him without any remorse.

"Tommy." He echoed, voice scratchy as if he was dying of thirst, body suddenly feeling like it had been dunked under tiding waves. "Why?"

"Why?" It was your turn to repeat what he'd said, turning around fully and allowing him the first proper look at his infant son.

Any feeling of displeasure or uncomfort left Simon's body as his eyes landed on the small boy whose teary eyes were trained on his mother's, soft hands clinging onto her like all hell would break loose if he weren't, pudgy body wrapped up in soft blanket decorated with a tiny duck print, the animal something he'd heard you refer to him as before.

God, he wasn't even listening anymore, too enamoured with the small being that lied in your arms, his hands itching towards him in hopes of taking him in his own.

His stomach sank as you stepped back in tandem with him, shielding Tommy from him like he was a monster.

"I, uhm…" you looked up at him through glassy eyes, clearly having been taken aback by his sudden advance towards you both, ending with you pressed against the wooden crib's side. "I didn't really think about it. It just… felt right. It sounded nice. There isn't really any… meaning behind it, as far as I know."

And that was true, as far as you knew, Tommy was just one of the names you'd underlined in one of the many baby name books your mother had brought over with her. But for Simon, it was oh so much more than that. It brought back memories that he hadn't thought about in a very long time, including those rough times he'd spent cooped up in that godforsaken house trying his best to take care of the only family he had left.

And although he hadn't heard from his brother in a long while, he couldn't help but feel slightly hollow at the simple thought of him, who now unknowingly shared his name with his new nephew.

"...right." Despite everything that was whirling around in his brain, every single memory and doubt he wished he could share without destroying himself inside out, that single word of confirmation was the only thing he could get out.

Tommy let out a whine, small hand tugging at your shirt as he instantly pulled your attention back to him, small body fidgeting in your hold in a way that would make you drop him if you weren't used to his urge to not stay still.

"Yeah, I get it, duck." You said, balancing him carefully in the crook of one of your arms before picking up the half-empty bottle you'd placed next to the crib, knowing he'd wake up within the little time the milk could sit out and demand to be fed with his startling cries. "It's here, don't worry. You're not going to starve."

Simon watched from the shadows as your son immediately latched on to the bottle, acting like he'd been starved for over a week, when his last feeding session had been barely an hour ago.

"He's very greedy." You mumbled, mostly to yourself, but looked up at Simon as he let out a humoured exhale.

"Most babies are." He said, remembering how needy his own little brother was when it came to feeding, whining and screaming until everyone in the house had woken up.

Silence fell upon the room, the only conceivable sound in the house being the sound of Tommy drinking and the soft jingle of the crib mobile whenever a soft gust of wind came through the parted window.

For the first time in the hour Simon had been back in your life, you felt calm. Your heartbeat had come down to a normal rate, your body had stopped jolting and shaking every now and then, and there was a small smile tugging at your lips as you watched your son cling to the bottle in your hands.

Even Simon's presence had stopped putting you on edge, since now he was just silently gazing down at his son, who's eyes were fixed back on his father's, almost like they were both having a staring contest, and it was unclear who was about to win.

Tommy normally bursted into tears when he was near a stranger, too many new scents and sounds around him since he was used to the calmer and soother environment that was his nursery, so apart from the short strolls you'd take down the streets, he barely went out with you, and when he did, he didn't get to met many new people. You remember how embarrassed you'd been when one of your neighbours had come by to help with fixing a light and Tommy had started bawling at the mere sight of the unfamiliar man standing in the doorway.

So it was a bittersweet surprise when you realised he must've taken an instinctual liking to his father, despite not properly having the brain capacity to regard him as such, and although you'd have plenty of time to go over that later, for now, you were relieved that he hadn't turned to wailing as loud as he could and bursting all three of your eardrums (although if Simon did work in what he said he did, you were sure he'd be used to loud noises by now).

"How d'you pay for all this?"

"What?" You said, the calm expression that had graced your face quickly forming back into the pissed one he'd gotten so used to seeing in the past hour, the innocent yet aggravating question instantly spoiling your mood. "What do you fu- what do you mean?"

"The furniture, the clothes, the nappies." He nodded towards every single thing he listed, only adding onto your annoyance even more. "Where d'you work?"

You snapped your head down to Tommy in order to avoid his damaging questions, meeting the cute scene of your son fast asleep, probably having passed out after such a long staring contest with his dad and finally having a full belly. You ignored the weight of your impending answer as you placed him down carefully back into his crib, letting his chubby cling onto your fingers for a bit before slowly wrenching his grip off, turning back around to his father.

"I don't work. Not anymore." You kept your voice hushed, picking up the empty baby bottle along with a bag of dirty nappies, standing next to the doorway until he got the memo to walk out before you. "Got fired from the bar cause I was too distracted and I messed a lot of things up…. Had to use my savings to pay for everything during my pregnancy."

He watched you walk around the kitchen and put everything away like it was routine, like it was some sort of art that you'd perfected, while thinking over the information he'd just received from you.

He felt horrible. The mere thought of you, pregnant and alone with no job able to support you, working on the crib and nursery on your own was enough to tear his cold heart in two. And he didn't even want to think about how much money you had left, which by the sight of the very expensive-looking cot and all the toys that laid strewn across the bedroom floor, wasn't much.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back onto one of the walls and thought about the next words that were going to leave his mouth, the next words that would either end up with you both growing closer together or you continuing to push him away.

"Let me help you."

You stopped dead in your tracks while rearranging one of the cupboards, turning around with a look of disbelief painted on your face, beyond bewildered at what he was even starting to proffer.

"Help me?"

Simon had more money than he knew what to do with. Albeit, a small part of it was sent to his brother and his family at the end of every few months, he was still left with a huge amount of money he didn't really know what to spend it on apart from on the bottles of alcohol that littered the floor of his apartment.

But now that he'd learned about his own family, seen the state your flat was in despite you trying to save face by decorating it as much as you could, about as much information as you had given out about your financial situation, he finally knew what to do with all that money that was left over.

"Help you. Financially. Tommy's my son too." Simon raised a gloved hand up as he watched your mouth open, immediately shutting you up like a teacher would a student. "As much as you want to deny it, s'true. And I'm going to help you." His finger landed on the small island counter, accentuating his point with every word he spoke. "Whether you like it or not."

Now, you'd be bellow stupid to even refuse an offer like this (even though he'd made it quite clear it wasn't an offer, more like an insistence), especially since your bank account was quickly reaching negative numbers with every day that passed, not a lot of jobs being open to a new mother who'd either have to take her baby everywhere or leave between shifts to take care of him (and a nanny was of course out of the question, with what money would you pay them?); and pushing aside your still initial distrust towards him, you couldn't say no to him. Both, because he wouldn't let you and because you needed the help, as much as you didn't want to admit it.

Very deep down, you wanted to say no, to push him out of the flat like you should've done when he had first taken a step inside, that he'd had his chance with both Tommy and you and that his bloody stupid excuses weren't going to work… but god, would you have been a moron to even consider letting those words leave your mouth.

You closed the cabinet shut, turning around to face him properly despite the absolute nerves that were coursing through your body, looking out the window across from you instead of at the imposing figure of the man standing before you.

"Simon, I… Look, just…." You tried changing subject, grasping at straws in order to keep yourself from falling to your knees and thanking him for helping you, to break down again like you'd done within the first quarter hour of seeing him again. "...thank you."

He didn't reply, only nodding in response as he turned away from you, letting you stare at his back as he cocked his head to a side to subtly look into Tommy's room, your small baby boy still fast asleep with his clingy hands holding onto one of the many toys you'd placed in there for him to stay entertained with.

"It's, uhm… it's getting quite late." You pointed out as you looked back out the window, rain pattering against your window as another one of England's classic showers hit your city, your arms wrapping around your torso and running your hands up and down the exposed skin. "How about we just… call it a day and talk about it tomorrow?"

Simon grunted, shrugging his shoulders like he really didn't care, but before you had chance to comment on it, he spoke over his shoulder, his head tilted in a way that the shadows curved around the balaclava covering up his face, his blue eyes slightly brighter than when he'd first shown up.

"I've got some stuff to attend to tomorrow." He muttered, nodding towards the duffle bag that he'd brought out with him when you'd both left the nursery, indicating that he wasn't fully finished with work. "It'll be a while 'till I'm able to just sit down with you."

God, you hated how much fear that single sentence struck in you. Like almost the thought of him leaving for more than a day after finally showing up and explaining everything to you was enough to raise up the anxiety that wrapped around your chest and travelled across every single nerve in your system.

So fucking pathetic. You thought to yourself before looking over at the sofa, the new one you'd bough and arranged yourself a few months into your pregnancy, when you were barely showing and could still handle physical work like that; remembering how much the salesman had insisted on that the pullout was the best option for when you had guests over, it was moderately comfy and big enough to fit up to two people.

And Simon kind of… He kind of counted for two people, right? With that bloody stature of his and his darned accentuated muscles you'd been so in awe of that fateful night.

"You can just take the sofa for tonight. Then we can talk in the morning before you leave." Your mouth acted faster than your brain did, but this time, you didn't really feel embarrassed or disappointed in yourself, I mean, it was the logical solution to this sort of problem. He'd made it quite clear that he wanted to be in his son's life, so if that was true, you'd have to get used to him being around you, invading the safe space you'd worked so hard to create for you and your son, as much as it tore your body and mind apart thanks to your mixed feelings about him.

"You sure?" He pushed himself off the doorframe which he'd been leaning on, getting back to his full height so he could tower over you, glancing at the tiny sofa. "You think I'll fit?"

"It pulls out." Unlike you. "You'll fit."

Once again, it seemed that he couldn't even get the words out to thank you, nodding in response before turning back to look at his sleeping son in the nursery's background. You pushed past him to get to the cupboard that sat in the corner, rummaging through it for some relatively clean and warm blankets, keeping an ear out just in case decided to walk a bit too close to Tommy, still a bit on edge when it came to him spending time around your son.

"D'you have a balcony I can use?" He cut through the silence, dangling a packet of cigarettes in front of your face to make his advances clear.

Although you weren't a chronic smoker yourself, you had indulged in a cig once in a while, and you knew that it sometimes did help soothe your anxiety or stress, and by the looks of how Simon was fidgeting in his spot and his fingers were clearly itching towards the lighter in his pocket, it was quite clear he was in need of one.

"I don't. Use the window furthest from Tommy's room." You pointed out of the room towards the window you'd been staring out of before. You watched him stroll out, opening up the window and letting in a gust of cold wind in the process, making you speed up your work so you could close the door faster and Tommy wouldn't get a chill.

"You can't smoke around Tommy, you know that, right? If you're really going to be in his life, I'm going to need you to quit while you're here." You commented as you placed down the blankets onto an armchair before moving onto the sofa bed itself, removing some of the cushions before resuming.

"'lright." He muttered between a few inhales of the smoke, his voice much clearer now that he'd pulled his mask up to his nose, letting you gaze upon the beard that had grown over his lower face, something that hadn't been there before. But you assumed that a year-long mission wouldn't really allow you to take time to shave. "Jus' really needed this."

"I get it." You grunted as you grabbed onto the flimsy handle at the bottom and pulled out the second part of the sofa's mattress, almost landing on your behind if it weren't for one of Simon's hands on the small of your back, helping you regain your balance before he went back to taking puffs of his cigarette next to the window.

Soon enough, Simon's cigarette burnt down to a stub, flicking it out the window and down onto the concrete below, turning back around to where you were finishing up what would be his bed tonight, tucking in some of the ends of the sheets and stuffing pillows into covers.

"Here." He spoke, his voice back to being muffled as he pulled the mask back down, taking the pillow from your hands and pushing it into the cover without any effort.

"Pillows might be a bit stiff. These are really old." You didn't even bother thanking him, taking the pillows and fluffing them up to the best of your ability, before propping them up on the armrest. "Do you want to, uhm." You gestured towards the black smudged paint around his eyes. "Clean up?"

"It's fine. I've slept worse."

He started to pull off his jacket, his shirt going with it for a moment and exposing his midriff and happy trail, immediately snapping your head away from the sight.

That's how Simon ended lying on the pretty well made sofa, shoes and jacket discarded next to him with a thin blanket draped over his tired body, balaclava still resting over his face despite being plunged in the darkness that was broken whenever a car passed by outside or by the soft glow of his son's fluorescent stars that decorated his ceiling.

Simon was aware of how long he'd gone without having a good night's sleep, that he should at least try to catch a few minutes of sleep at best, but he couldn't find the energy to even close his eyes. He knew that after such a long and exciting mission his body had to come down from it slowly, taking a few days of getting used to the sudden serenity that enveloped him before he could fully relax and find some sleep.

And so he lied there, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling and listening to the snores that came from his son's room and the shuffling and incoherent murmurs that came from yours, the constant affirmation that you both were fine enough of a substitute for the sleep he was missing.

And he was… content like that, for a while. Listening to the both of you sleep and tapping his fingers against his chest in an attempt to ground himself and to shove away any unwanted thoughts that would forcibly make their way into his already broken mind.

Until one of the cars outside backfired, a sound Simon had gotten used to after driving all those barely working cars they'd find in the way during missions, producing a sound that echoed throughout the living room, making Simon instinctively flinch, his fingers gripping down on the blanket hard enough to rip it, not having expected to hear a sound so akin to a bomb or a grenade while he was lying down calmly near his newfound family.

Fuck, he was pathetic. It was horrible how such an innocent sound made his instincts go haywire, his skin prickle with goosebumps and his heart skip a beat.

But clearly, as Tommy's cries rang out through the flat, he hadn't been the only one to be disturbed.

"Fuck." The blanket pooled down onto the floor next to his discarded clothes, pushing himself off the sofa and passing by your bedroom, where you were still presumably sleeping, your body wriggling beneath the covers as your brain attempted to keep you asleep.

You'd mentioned that Tommy had gone down easily this time, so it was relatively early for yourself to go to bed, and he'd heard you mutter to yourself as you climbed into bed that you were going to enjoy your rest, so staying on the sofa and waiting for you to wake up, was not going to happen, especially after all the trouble he'd gone through with convincing you to let him in Tommy's life.

This was part of being a father, a parent, waking up at ungodly hours of the night to take care of your fussing baby.

He carefully made his way towards Tommy's crib, removing his gloves in order to not scare him with an unknown touch, although he doubted that his calloused fingers would be any better substitute.

"S'alright." He murmured, a finger softly prodding at his chubby belly in order to catch his attention, the boy's wails only getting louder as he caught sight of his father's skulled balaclava. "Oh, fu- Look, hey, look at me."

Without any hesitation, Simon ripped off his mask, his hair getting messed up in the process but he couldn't care less, only focused on getting his son to recognise him as a human man and not the goddamn grim reaper who'd come for him.

Tommy sniffled as he toned down the fussing, blue eyes darting all over his father's face as if committing it to memory, chubby fingers leaning down to grab at the one Simon had woken him up with, and much like he did with any other thing he found lying around, shoved it right in his mouth, drooling around it.

A breathless chuckle escaped Simon's mouth as he watched him roll and fuss around his finger, resting his other arm on the crib and lying his head against it, transfixed with the sight of his small son.

A few tears were still running down his chubby cheeks, but he seemed to have calmed down now, Simon's finger acting like some sort of replacement for the pacifier that laid abandoned next to him.

"C'mon. Stop cryin'." He grumbled, pulling his finger out of his grasp and placing his large hands beneath Tommy's small body, carefully picking him up (making sure to support his little head like he'd seen you do) and propping him up in the crook of his arm, letting him squirm around for a bit until he found the perfect position. "You're a wriggly one aren't you?"

As expected, he didn't get any response apart from the thousand yard stare his son looked up at him with, similar to the one he occasionally gave Johnny to watch him freak out. Now that he did look at him closely, he could pinpoint how many features he'd inherited from his father's side, his shaggy hair, his blue eyes, his slightly crooked nose, even the chubby rolls and fingers he remembered seeing in his little brother.

"That's a boy." Tommy's eyes started to droop with every second he spent lying in his father's arms, his tears drying out and coos leaving his mouth instead of the agonising cries. "Feelin' better?"

He blindly walked over to the small chair he'd spotted in the corner of the room when he'd first walked in, grunting like his grandfather did as he sat down, careful to not squish or drop Tommy in the process, his hands tightening around him as the chair slightly reclined, the chair's feature catching him off guard and instantly activating the instinct to protect the small human in his arms that depended on him.

But Tommy didn't even flinch, giggling at the warmth that enveloped him and snuggling further into the blanket and his father's arms in the process, eyes still fixed on the dark paint that adorned his father's.

Finally, after their second staring match of the night, Tommy's eyelids finally closed, losing the battle and falling prey to sleep, something Simon silently wished he could too. Resting him in one arm, he pulled his balaclava back down, feeling a bit too exposed now that the need to have it off had ceased. He leaned his head back on the rest and stared up at the dim glowing stars, focusing on the steady breaths that racked his son's tiny body and the faint feeling of his heartbeat against his arm.

He could… he could really get used to this.

Having such a small thing in his arms, something he was responsible for, something he was supposed to love and care for, a purpose to continue the dangerous life he'd thrusted himself in. He was a father now. And although he knew barely nothing about being one, he'd learn. He hoped it wasn't a one time thing and that Tommy had truly taken a liking to him, that he was going to be able to take at least a bit off the load that you carried by helping in whatever way he could, whether it was bonding with his on or simply financially if that's all you wished of him.

He was a bit too lost in his thoughts as he reclined further in the plush chair, pressing Tommy to his chest so he was half lying on him, half still resting in his arms, a pretty comfortable position for the both of them.

"-mon."

"Simon!"

The blond was jolted awake by a pair of hands shaking him, his immediate instinct being to search around for the baby he remembered falling asleep with, blurry vision darting around to find him cooing and gurgling in your arms, hands latched onto your sleep shirt.

He turned to look out the window while cracking his neck, disoriented and confused about what time it was, the subtle sun rays that shone through the clouds and into the nursery telling him enough.

Had he fallen asleep? Like, actually slept for over an hour without waking up or any disturbances?

"'m sorry." His voice was deeper after a good night's rest, you noted as he rubbed his eyes with the bottom of his palm in an attempt to clear the blurriness, choosing to ignore the click of your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "Time?"

"'bout eight." You said, bouncing Tommy in your arms as you nodded towards the clock that hung up above him, eyes darting back down to see him hunched over, hands beneath his balaclava rubbing away the sleep in his eyes and no doubt spreading the face paint everywhere. "Tommy needs to have breakfast so I just assumed you'd want to be woken up as well. But, you're, uhm, welcome to sleep longer, I guess."

"No, I'm fine. I have to get up." Within a second, he was at his feet, Tommy staring up at him in awe as if he were gazing upon a giant, one of his chubby hands leaving your shirt to try and grab onto his, but Simon had left before he could even make first contact.

"You stayed here to talk, remember?" You said snappily at him as you followed, watching him pick up all his stuff. "We should talk."

His shoulders deflated mid tying his boot, a solemn nod in response like even talking to you was a chore, and after the night you'd had the day before, any little irritating thing like that was going to be enough to set you off.

"I want to be a part of Tommy's life. I've made that clear."

"I know. And that's… fine. But we're going to need boundaries."

He sighed, turning around with his other boot dangling from his hand, leaning his side on the wall opposite what had been supposed to be his bed for the night (the horror you'd felt when you saw him gone and your son's door open was unmeasurable), and nodding once again, eyes looking down at you expectantly.

Oh. Right. You were the one speaking.

"Well, for starters… if you really can't tell me more about your job than you already have, I want you to at least keep me updated whenever you leave for work. I.. I don't want any more surprises."

I don't want to feel the way I felt during that year again.

"Alright."

You nodded, pulling Tommy closer as he became enamoured with the necklace that dangled from your neck, trying his mighty best to pull the charm in his mouth as you talked. "And, if you stay over, you take the couch. And not taking Tommy out without me. Until… further notice." You feared you were being a bit too strict with him, but simply reminding yourself that this was in fact, basically a stranger who just happened to father your child, and you'd have to take preventive measures until you were sure that you could leave Tommy alone with him.

Simon ignored the slight pain that stabbed at his heart when you said that, but… it was understandable. You'd been with Tommy longer than him, hell, you'd carried him for a whole 9 months, you had a stronger bond with your son than he had. For both of your safety and his, he'd go along with anything you'd say.

After agreeing with a simple nod and finishing tying up his shoes, he walked up to you both, fingers brushing against your clavicle as he pulled your necklace out of Tommy's mouth, blue eyes fixated on yours. "Send me your bank details later. I'll deposit some money for you both. As much as you need."

He hesitated a few moments before pulling his fingers away, instead running them down Tommy's nose bridge before pulling away, pulling a giggle out of him.

"O-okay."

He nodded, leaning down to zip up his duffle bag before strapping it over his shoulder, jacket in his other arm since it was relatively warm outside for a morning in Manchester. "Text me if y'need anything. I'll answer this time… I promise."

You winced, the subject of his disappearance still a touchy matter despite everything you'd both discussed the night before, but by the way he hesitated before speaking, the way he was awkwardly standing in the main corridor, he was either very obviously lying or telling the truth.

You hoped it was the latter.

"...okay. Goodbye, Simon."

The moment the door opened, the doorbell rang out, making you and Tommy flinch at the loud sound and Simon grumble at being the main victim of the ringer.

Your neighbour was standing there, finger on the bell, furrowed eyebrows glaring up at the intimidating man.

"Good morning?" You poked your head around Simon's large frame, Tommy hiding his face in the crook of your neck as if able to sense the confrontation about to happen. "Is everything okay?"

"Uh, no. Sorry, just. I think I speak for everyone in this building that we'd appreciate it if you'd keep that baby o'yours quiet once in a while. Barely gotten any sleep these days 'cause of his bloody crying." He frowned, glaring down at the baby in question, as if he was truly to blame for something he was barely able to control. Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment, having remembered that you'd already expected this last night when Tommy had burst into tears the first time, and then the second time when you were asleep.

"Right, I'm s-"

"Babies cry." Ghost interrupted, glare fixed on the man in front of you both, hand tightening around the doorframe much like when he'd been trying to convince you to let him in. "Y'can't really help it."

"Well you can shut him up-"

"And we did. Wondering if I'm going to need to do the same to you." He said gruffly, almost puffing his chest out of pride when he saw the man's colour drain from his face. It was a bit of a shitty rebuttal, in hindsight, but when it came from the beast of a man that he was, it was enough to make a grown man like the one in front of him piss his pants. "'m I?"

"N-no, sir."

"Sorted." He watched the neighbour scurry off back into his apartment like a bug of sorts, turning back to you with an amused glint in his normally inexpressive eyes. "Bother you often?"

"Yeah." You said breathlessly, actually impressed with how quickly he'd been able to get rid of him, like your own personal pest exterminator. "Thank you."

"He won't anymore." He stepped out into the hall, sparing you and your son one last glance before awkwardly lifting his hand up in an attempt to say goodbye, Tommy immediately trying to reach over to him with a plump hand, fingers flexing as if trying to use the force to pull his dad back.

"He'll be back, duck, don't worry… he's not leaving."

Ghost pressed the button to the elevator, willing himself enough strength to not turn around immediately at the sounds of his soon cooing and whining at him, the soft words you spoke plunging a spear into his cold heart.

He'd be back. He promised.

TAGLIST: @selfassassin @ess-perspective-blog @crazyfandomist @webreathfandoms @warners-wife @prodyng @gaycrystalbitch @warrior-of-justice @uhhely @mentallynot-here @jordanwalkersworld @skepticalleo @bratsukisworld @screamingoverfiction @comedinewithmeyeh @gojosbucket @mikasakuchiki @jonhswife @tea-effect @thelittlejinx @cafesho @daddylorianisastateofmind @63sucker (if your name is in italics it means I couldn't tag you!)

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #ghost x female reader #cod mwii #call of duty #ghost x you #ghost fanfiction #ghost x fem!reader #ghost fic #cod mwii x reader #cw pregnancy #— ménage

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barcaatthemoon · 2 months

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misunderstanding || alexia putellas x reader ||

alexia shuts you out after a loss, failing to notice how pressure you had put on yourself to win.

your team was supposed to have the game in the bag. this was supposed to be an easy win. still, alexia and jonaton had reminded you that it was important to play your best. you weren't sure when, but slowly throughout the game, everybody started to relax a little. it seemed that two goals conceded were no big deal whenever everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before barcelona pulled ahead. unfortunately, that moment never came and the bus was eerily silent as everybody filed on to go home.

alexia sat by herself on the bus. she had placed her bag in the seat that you had planned to take before you even had a chance to get on the bus. you had stared at the spot sadly until lucy and ona pushed you towards the back of the bus. not getting to sit by alexia was bad enough, but the look of disappointment that she had shot you was even worse.

"chin up bebita," mapi told you. like alexia, you had taken a whole seat to yourself. if you couldn't sit next to your girlfriend, you didn't want to sit next to anybody. mapi knew this and respected it, even if she did want to comfort you. she hated seeing you upset, especially when the loss wasn't even really your fault. it had truly been a team effort, and alexia shouldn't have solely looked at you like that as you passed her.

"mapi, just don't," you said softly. everybody around you frowned at the defeated tone in your voice. you put your headphones on and leaned your head against the window as you stared out at the scenery. spain was absolutely beautiful, which was one of the main reasons that you had followed lucy to barcelona whenever she told you about it. photography was one of your other passions, and there was ample opportunity to capture some truly beautiful pictures in the foreign country.

halfway through the ride, you felt someone slip into the seat next to you. a part of you was hopeful that it was alexia, only to be disappointed when you saw your older sister sitting next to you. lucy knew that she wasn't who you wanted, but she couldn't just sit there while you were so upset and do nothing. she slipped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into an embrace. it took everything for you not to start crying. when the bus arrived at the stadium, you wanted nothing more than to just go home, but it seemed alexia had other plans.

"team meeting in the locker room before anyone leaves," alexia announced. she was the first in, quickly followed by most of the other girls. you contemplated not going in, but you knew that alexia would rip into you if you did. so, you stood by the door, ready to make a quick exit if you got upset.

alexia hadn't even begun talking yet whenever it hit you. all she had to do was look at you before you had bolted out of the locker room with a quick, "no."

"shit, (y/n)!" lucy called out as she chased you out of the locker room. you may not have been at the club as long as her, but you had found out a couple of good hiding spots that most of the team didn't know about. your favorite was the place that alexia had shown you for clearing your head. you could get quite emotional sometimes, and she knew that you didn't want to appear like a crybaby to everybody else.

"what is her problem?" alexia asked as she caught up to lucy. lucy turned towards her captain with a look of barely restrained anger. alexia quickly matched the energy, not caring whether or not it was helpful in the moment. "she wasn't dismissed."

"check yourself before you go to her. if she comes to me later upset because of you, we're going to have problems," lucy threatened. she poked her finger into alexia's chest, causing the captain to scoff. "i'm serious. i don't care if you are the captain, if you hurt my sister, i'll kick your ass."

"whatever," alexia huffed. lucy walked back to the locker room, leaving alexia to stand there. she was still angry, but lucy's words were replaying again and again in the back of her head. alexia found you with ease hiding in one of the empty closets in the gear room. she opened her mouth to say something, but stopped when she noticed the sniffling. "did i do this to you?"

"ale, leave me alone," you told her. alexia didn't listen to you, ignoring the glare you sent her as she bent down next to you.

"i'm trying to check on you. what is wrong?" alexia asked you. she tried to put her hand on your shoulder, but you jerked away from her. "(y/n), come on."

"alexia, just go!" you winced at the harshness in your voice. trying again, you softened it as you pleaded with her, "please, just leave me alone."

"how can i leave you here like this? why won't you talk to me?" alexia was trying to fight her frustration, but it was definitely a losing battle. she was angry about the near loss of the game and allowing herself to sit and simmer with her anger did not make anything better. she had put herself in a bad mindset to comfort you, but alexia felt like she owed it to you to try. there was no doubt that you had taken the loss as hard as she had, and alexia knew that you worked so hard to prove that you deserved to get minutes in these games.

"alexia, i can't handle you looking at me like that, so please just leave." you were on the verge of sobbing, glad that alexia couldn't see the tears in the darkened closet. she sighed as she stood up, finally deciding to let you be. she really did need to talk to the rest of the team, and if you were going to be difficult, she wanted to be less angry when she tried talking to you again.

"do you still want to come back with me?" alexia asked you.

"i don't know, ale." alexia felt her heart sink as she walked away from you. the walk back to the locker room wasn't a very long one, but it seemed to be long enough for tears to form in the corners of her eyes. the stares from her teammates triggered something inside of herself and the moment she sat down on the bench, alexia started crying.

"you're all dismissed," alexia said without looking up. the room was tense as the team dispersed, none of them sure of what to do. mapi stared longingly at her best friend with an ache in her heart for the woman's obvious pain. she waited until everybody else was gone before she decided to talk to alexia.

"hey, stop that. don't cry, i hate it when you cry," mapi said lightheartedly. she tapped alexia with her foot, causing the captain to look up and glare at her. "what happened with (y/n)?"

"she just wanted me to leave. i didn't even do anything!" alexia's voice rose as she spoke. mapi sat down next to alexia and started to scratch lightly at her back. "why is she mad at me?"

"she's not mad at you, she's probably just scared. everybody is upset about how today's game went, and she doesn't want you to be disappointed in her. think about what happened between the game and now, and think hard, ale."

"she walked right past me on the bus," alexia said. mapi knew that it wasn't that simple. alexia easily could have moved her bag, but she had it sitting right in your seat before you got there. it was a small and seemingly insignificant detail to alexia that meant everything to you. "she went to the back of the bus."

"there was nowhere for her to sit next to you, and she thought you were upset. think about what you would have done if jenni had done that to you when you were still coming up," mapi said. it was a bit of a low blow, but also the only way that mapi knew to get her point across to alexia. mapi could tell that it worked from the way that alexia's face dropped and she shot up from the bench.

"i have to go!" alexia yelled as she ran back to where she had left you. everything was exactly how she had left it, except now you were getting up to leave. "i think that we had a misunderstanding. i'm not mad at you, not specifically. you did good today, you tried your best. i'm sorry for the bus, i was in my own head."

"alexia, you don't have to lie to make me feel better. i played like shit today," you said. alexia's face dropped as she backed you up against the door. you weren't sure what to expect, but her gently cradling your face to speak to you was not it.

"we are good, but we cannot win every game. sometimes, other teams will pull one over on us. even if i am upset, you can always come to me after. i am sorry for making you think otherwise, i truly am. i was an idiot, and i can't promise that it won't happen again, but i will always try to fix things after. forgive me, please?" alexia said. you nodded, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. "te amo, mi carina."

"i love you too, ale," you told her. alexia pulled you into a tight hug, one that hurt just a little, but you didn't mind it. "can i drive us back?"

"i'm sorry mi carina, but you are far too pretty of a-," alexia paused as she struggled to remember what lucy and some of the other girls had been teasingly calling you, "-passenger princess."

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

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wileys-russo · 25 days

Note

I had a cute idea I wanted to share because I love the way you write!! Leah has back to back interviews from home and reader is sat on the sofa just watching her, falling more and more in love with how passionate her girl is. Leah gets all blushy and a bit flustered by the gaze. Just a cute fluffy one x

lock down II l.williamson

"-and then i've got another over zoom with sky sports at three and i should be done for the day." your girlfriend sighed, already tired by her day before it had even begun.

"no rest for the wicked huh?" you hummed, still laid down in bed as the blonde restlessly paced back and forth across the room. "god then i've gotta fit in our gym program too! do you mind if we do it tonight? i know we're not supposed to but that at least gives me a few hours in between." leah groaned in realization.

"leah breath! of course i don't mind babe, its more enjoyable when we do the program together anyway. i'm more than sure we can push it back a few hours and it shouldn't affect the stats too much." you assured her gently as the blonde nodded.

"so much for lock down! everyone's watching bloody netflix and making tiktoks but noo im memorizing scripts and listening to the same witty one liner over and over about how hard it must be to 'work from home' as a footballer." leah mocked, falling backwards onto the bed with a huff.

"but is it?" you questioned as she sat up slightly and turned her head to be able to see you. "is it what?" leah asked with a confused frown. "is it hard to work from home as a footballer?" you questioned with a frown of your own.

one which quickly turned into a grin as your girlfriend lunged at you, ducking your head under the covers as her bony fingers poked and prodded at you, your safety blanket ripped away as the blonde hovered over you.

"you think you're so fucking funny." leah rolled her eyes as your grin grew. "well one of us has to have a sense of humor in this relationship baby, you're not called captain grumpy for nothing." you teased, tapping your lips expectantly.

"cheeky girl." leah tutted but none the less gave into your request, pressing her lips to yours as your hands moved to tangle in her hair, deepening the kiss as she settled on top of you.

but no sooner did the taller girl slip her tongue into your mouth, hands gliding slowly up your bare stomach, did her alarm go off.

"why!" leah pulled away and groaned moodily, flopping down and burying her face in your neck making you chuckle and gently scratch your nails against her scalp as you tapped snooze.

"babe this isn't making me anymore inclined to get up." your girlfriend mumbled against your skin making you smile. "what if i promise to make breakfast and have it ready for when your first interviews done?" you whispered into her hair, squirming as the girl sighed.

"might be working a little." leah admitted making you laugh and press a kiss to her cheek. "mm and what if i make your favorite breakfast?" you hummed, still rhythmically scratching at her scalp.

"the williamson special?" she questioned, the words muffled into your neck but you laughed again. "the williamson special. an omelette with ham, cheese and not a single spec of colour, flavour or vegetables." you teased, squealing as she pinched your hip but pulled her head up.

"you promised not to mock my eating habits." the older girl frowned with a pout that you quickly kissed away. "no i promised not to mock them last week, todays monday. brand new day of opportunity!" you grinned, pushing her hands away where they tickled at the sliver of skin where your shirt had rode up.

"first my speech impediment and now my diet. you really are a wicked awful woman!" leah sighed with a shake of her head as you scoffed.

"my love we've been over this. you don't have a speech impediment, you're just from milton keynes." you whispered against her lips, pulling away right before they could press against hers, pushing her off of you and moving to stand with a stretch.

"now my beloved MK, you're going the right way for the silent treatment missy." leah pointed at you with a glare as you oohed sarcastically. "tempting. is that a promise?" you winked, laughing as she lurched forward and grabbed the back of your top tugging you back down into bed.

"you are very lucky you're cute." your girlfriend tutted from above you, shaking her head. "and you're very lucky i'm so patient." you poked at her nose with an amused smile as leah gasped in mock offence, your girlfriend nothing if not the expert at annoying you.

"you wait for the third one and you won't have time to shower lee." you warned, pushing her fringe out of her face with a soft smile as she leaned over you to tap stop on the second alarm on her phone and looked down at you with a cheeky grin.

"in that case, wanna save some water?"

you were trying to concentrate on your own laptop, you really were.

in the spirit of having nothing better to do locked away in your home you'd signed up for an online accounting course, with leah already studying a much higher qualification in the same field she'd been a massive help.

but why would you waste your time looking at tax brackets and finance breakdowns when you could stare at your incredibly fit gorgeous girlfriend who was sat only a few metres away in your direct eyeline.

you smiled at how she threw and flailed her hands about as she spoke, always one to speak expressively and passionately as she was recounting a story from her childhood when she'd played on a boys team and was relentlessly pushed about for being 'just too good'.

it was one of the first things that had you falling deeply for the older girl, how passionate she was. not just about football but with anything she put her mind and heart to, including how fiercely she loved.

not just how she loved you, but how she loved her family, loved football, loved her friends, the girl could be a handful and a stubborn headache at times but nobody could deny that she was also one of the most sincere and loving human beings you'd ever met.

so with that in mind you sighed quietly, a dopey smile on your face as you pined over her like a lovesick puppy, something the pair of you were often teased about by your team mates but it just washed over you like water off a ducks back, both of you far too loved up in your little bubble to pay it any mind.

in fact without leah you were certain you'd have long lost your mind amid this pandemic, the blonde finding little ways every day to make you still feel so special or to have you smile or laugh, two things which rapidly became her favorite reward.

just yesterday she'd woken you up with breakfast in bed and a bunch of flowers just because.

granted she did order the breakfast from a local cafe which was still operating for delivery and you couldn't prove it but you were near certain that she'd stolen the flowers from some of your neighbors front yards on her morning walk.

regardless you were touched by the thoughtful gesture and showered her with sweet kisses as a thank you, even if leah did eat nearly all of your breakfast much to your amusement given it was hardly up to her usual bland unseasoned standards.

you leaned back a little more into the sofa and crossed your legs underneath you, balancing your laptop on a cushion on your lap, a soft smile plastered permanently into your features.

once or twice leah caught your eyes staring over the top of her own laptop, sending you a small grin or a subtle wink before her attention returned back to the interviewer.

you heard him say that the next game would be a drawing one, sliding your laptop away and hurrying to grab a notebook and pen, placing them beside leah who mouthed her thanks as you took a seat across from her at the dining table.

leah gave you a questioning look as you did so but you merely shrugged, gesturing for her to pay attention as she tuned back into the interview. you watched as she was told to draw her wembley stadium, competing against the interviewer.

you smiled as you took her in, the way her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, nostrils flaring in annoyance every now and then as she was unhappy with a stroke of her pen, a small puff of air exhaled from the corner of her mouth as the tip of her tongue pushed out the other side.

you took a photo of her and smiled, placing your phone back down and resting your chin on your hand. leah could feel your stare on her and as she revealed her drawing and you grinned as the tips of her ears and cheeks flushed red.

"stop!" she mouthed at you as you shook your head, still staring at her in admiration as her attention switched back to the interview. finally after what felt like hours of your gaze pinned to her leah was able to wrap it up, saying her goodbyes and clicking end call on the zoom, pushing her laptop closed.

"what?" you smiled innocently as the blonde sat back in her chair and shook her head at you. "you have a staring problem!" she accused with a point as you gasped and held a hand to your chest.

"i do not. i wasn't staring, i was admiring!" you clarified as leah hummed, her chair pushing back with a scrape. "cheeky." leah clicked her tongue as you followed after her to the kitchen, kissing her still slightly pink cheek with a smile as she grabbed a juice out from the fridge.

"leah!" you scoffed as you held your hand out for it to take a mouthful and she slapped her palm against yours with a wink.

last one, sorry babe." the blonde smirked as your mouth formed a small o. "those are mine!" you protested, rushing around the counter and trying to snatch it off her as she pushed you away effortlessly with one hand and downed the juice with the other.

"you are so unbel-" you started to tell her off as she exhaled happily and tossed the empty bottle into the recyling bin with a happy whoop as it landed. "no no wait, let me guess." her finger smushed against your lips silencing you as she stroked her chin as if deep in thought.

"unbelievably sexy?" silence. "no? okay. unbelievably charming?" silence again. "wrong again? mmm unbelievably intelligent?" more silence. "wow thought i had it there. unbelievably-" you wrenched her hand away at that and shook your head.

"unbelievably infuriating!" you rolled your eyes as leah smacked her forehead with a scoff. "that was my next guess!" she tutted with a shake of her head as you sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"hey hey don't get all stroppy. there's still three more in there i was only teasing." leah grabbed your waist and pulled your shorter form into her, a noise of surprise leaving your mouth as her hands hooked under your thighs and she hoisted you up to sit on the counter as she settled between your legs.

"how about the williamson special right now?" leah smiled, thumb tracing your bottom lip as you gave her a look of slight confusion. "you want another omelette?" you questioned as your girlfriend shook her head.

"no no baby girl, the real williamson special." leah rasped, hands toying with the waistband of your sweats as you caught onto what she was suggesting.

"mmm and whats that? my memory needs a jog." you hummed, a smile settling onto your own face as the girl leaned in, minty breath fanning your face as her lips were millimeters from yours.

"mind blowingly passionate sex with a guaranteed happy ending, and then-" your eyes fluttered closed as she moved to kiss at your neck, lips trailing from your jaw down to the column of your throat, biting softly before she moved to tug at the lobe of your ear.

"-then we eat potato smileys in bed naked and watch the golf." leah exhaled as you moaned playfully.

"god i love it when you talk dirty to me."

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine

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skyebounded · 8 months

Text

Better Unspoken

Masterlist .Harry Potter Universe Masterlist.

premise: Theo isn't sure how much more he can take without telling you what you mean to him.

pairing: Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

warnings: angst, swearing... My type of Love Confession!!!

wc: 2.8K

a/n: I'm sorry. <3

His strides seemed to slow, the once steady pace that you had set, had fallen short. You were leading, blissfully unaware of the lack of companionship by your side in the moment. Theo had fallen victim to the very thoughts that plagued him, letting them dictate his every move as he watched you trudge forward, back up to the castle doors, happily. He watched as you laughed to yourself at the conversation you were seemingly having with him. He watched the snow fall onto your cheeks, instantly melting at your touch, or the way it coated your beanie and coat. He was mesmerised by you, every little thing that you did, he was mesmerised. You had been with one of his closest friends for some time now, and yet he couldn't seem to be happy for you, for Enzo, and it was simple really, he couldn’t because it wasn't him that you were happy with.

“Crazy, righ- Theo?” You turned around, stopping in your tracks to face him. His hands were stuffed deep into his pockets and his body ridgid. “Are you okay?” You spoke so softly, your words so caring and delicate as you approached him. Theo made no move, no gesture towards you, it was only a numb look. His gaze fell to the imprinted snow beneath your feet, studying it as if it had the answer to his questions. It had been eating him alive. This past year tearing him apart little by little, and he wasn't sure that he could keep it to himself any longer. He felt as though he had to tell you, no matter the consequences, he just had to. Your voice, softly calling his name again, had him looking back up at you, his eyes soft and sorrowful, and it scared you. He took a step forward, leaning his head down slightly before he opened his mouth, taking a deep breath.

“I have to tell you something, and I….” He was struggling to find the words, glancing around like he was waiting for someone to help him out.

“What is it, Theo? Can it wait till we get to the cast-” you start, before he cuts you off, taking another step towards you in desperation.

“y/n….please just listen to me…”

“Oka-what do you mea-” you started, a hint of panic in your tone. His suddenty was making you nervous, that is until realisation hit you. Standing there, staring up at him, the crazed look in his eyes, and you knew. Knew what he meant, what he wanted to say. You could see what was hiding behind that look, the soft yearning, and need for understanding, the pleading, far before it had even begun. There was no coming back from what he was about to say, nothing that could be done to stop it, but you had to try. You shook your head, your breath hitching the moment he took another step forward, mere inches from where you stood. You held your breath, staring at him, nearly frozen out of fear.

“Theo, please. Don't do this, please don't do this-” It was barely a whisper that left you, and he heard it, you knew he had, but it didn’t stop him. He moved forward, frantically reaching out for you as if he would never get the chance to touch you again, as his hands met your arms, grabbing them as he lowered himself just enough to be level to you.

“I have too, I have to tell you how I fee-” He started. You could hear the urgency dripping off of each word, the way he seemed to speak as if he was fearful that he would never get his chance to say it again. His eyes darted between your own, a glass like glaze over the soft shade of blue, as he searched for some type of understanding behind them.

“No Theo, no you don’ t, you don-” It was almost a whine, an involuntary beg on your part, as you pulled from his grasp, and yet made no movement to get away from him.

“Y/n, please, you have to understand, I can’t help it, i can’t just stop it, you know that, you know I can’t-”

“Theo think! Please! Think about Enzo..” you tried, tried to make him think about his lifelong friend, the one that stood between the pair of you and everything that Theo wanted. “He is your best friend, your best friend! Please, please think about that before you say what you are about to say. Theo pleas-”

“I know, I know he is, trust me I know-” there it was again, the shaky breath, the soft tones of imploration.

“Enzo, Theo-” you pleaded, forcing back tears that were on the cusp of escaping.

“And I know that! I know that y/n, and I love him like a brother I promise you I do, but I can’t just sit by. I can’t! Not without telling you how I feel, y/n please-” he implored, his hands coming up to reach for you again, only to fall flat by his side when you shy away from him. He hated this, seeing the way you were fighting him, the way you were pleading with him to stop, but he couldn’t let you. Perhaps it came down to some diluted fantasy, one where you would allow him to tell you how he felt, one where you would see what he meant, see his desperation and the desire for you, that you would have some type of understanding and would chose him, and sure he knew that wasn't going to be the case, but he had to hope.

“Theo…” you mutter, your heart breaking for him, for the wounded way he was looking at you, for the way his hands were nearly clasped together as if he were in prayer begging for forgiveness. “Theo ple-”

“Y/n I am in love with you, and I can't just make it go away…I can’t-I can’t, and I can’t by any means keep it to myself..not anymore, y/n. Not when it is killing me little by little..” he couldn’t seem to stop himself as he spoke. His voice hoarse and broken as the confession that he had been holding in for only merlin knows how long now, was pouring from him as if he had no control over it anymore in floods of pathetic desperation. Perhaps he didn’t have any control. Perhaps the lie that he had been living was tearing him apart piece by piece, and the only way to soothe it was to get it out to you, to explain and pray that you could understand, no matter the repercussions it was sure to have. It had begun to take its toll on him, watching you with Enzo, pretending that he was nothing but happy for the pair of you. It consumed him, driving him to mere madness and this felt like the only way to solve it, and he hated it. He hated himself for it, for thinking that it was okay, that maybe there was a chance he could steal you for himself, a chance that you would want him just as much as he wanted you. He hated himself for doing this behind his best friends back without so much as a care. It was so unbelievable selfish and he knew that, but he didn’t care, he couldn’t care not when he had spent all this time loving you, watching you, needing you. He knew what this could mean for his relationships with not only you, but Enzo too, and he was willing to throw it all away for that small sliver of hope that you would return his feelings.

Theo took a deep shaky breath, trying his hardest to read your thoughts, to see if he could understand even the slightest bit of what you were feeling towards him, but the moment your lips parted, he panicked, fear consuming him. He couldn’t let you speak out towards his admission, he couldn’t let you stop him.

Your hand reached up to silence him, to cover his mouth and cease the flow of the poison he was trying to spew, but it was of no use, he was faster. He reached out grabbing ahold of your hands, soothingly running his thumbs gently over the tops of them, appalled at how cold your touch was. Your hands were frozen, you were cold, and here he was, selfishly keeping you outside the castle walls, simply for his own greed. He couldn’t feel nature's effect, not anymore, not while fuelled with pure adrenaline, but you, a poor innocent bystander in this, could. He clamped your hands together, hoping that covered by his, could find some warmth in them.

“Y/n…I can’t…I can’t go on like this, knowing that I feel this way.” He was breaking, and you could see it. He needed you to feel something other than an undeniable no. He needed reassurance that this, what he was confessing wasn’t for nothing, but you couldn’t give him that, not now. You wanted to reach out for him, to offer him some type of comfort no matter how small, but what would that fix? Nothing, and though you hated to admit it, you were afraid that it might not only give him some senses of hope, but also that it would do nothing more than confuse not only him, but you. You loved Theo, you always had, and perhaps not in the way that he did for you, or at least never to the degree that he was experiencing. There was a small sliver of you that once wanted him the way he wanted you now, and that small sliver was begging you on its own to let him continue to pour his heart out. But you loved Enzo, and you had for some time now. You loved him and who you were with him, and nothing was worth risking that over. All you could do was to shake your head, soft desperate ‘no’s escaping you, praying, no, pleading that he would stop, that he would give up, because it wasn’t fair, none of it was. You sunk your teeth, feebly into your quivering bottom lip, slowly shaking your head, your eyes flooded with unreleased tears. You weren’t breathing, holding onto that breath like a tether, as you waited.

“I have to make you understand…I can’t spend another moment listening to the stories of you and Enzo, knowing that it should be by your side, that it should be me taking care of you, making you smile and laugh, making you happy every waking chance that I can… I can’t take more of pretending that it doesn't hurt me, or that I’m okay when I'm really not. Y/n, please, I am begging you…make it stop, please for me…. Tell me you- tell me you love me or- no, just tell me you love m-….” he couldn’t finish his sentence, the words caught in the back of his throat as he looked down at you with those soft pleading eyes, that glass-like look to his eyes now one filled with tears of his own, but the tears that were beginning to fall from your eyes held him captive, they silenced him.

He could feel his world shattering before him as he looked at you, could feel you pulling away in ways that he knew he couldn’t follow, couldn’t pull you back from. He had single handedly ruined the only thing in his life that had any meaning to him whatsoever. You were slipping from him, and knew that no matter what he did, there was no going back. Nothing was going to fix this, it had been ruined beyond repair, and it was killing him. He couldn’t stand to see that pitiful look reflected on your face, the one that confirmed everything he was thinking, the one that caused him to stop breathing in a moment of lasting heartbreak, the one that filled him with horror. It was over, he was certain of it. He couldn’t be your friend, not after what he had just told you, not when he knew that you would go back and tell Enzo, not when he knew you hated him, and that he was sure of.

It wasn’t the truth though, you didn’t hate him, you weren’t even sure that that was something that you were capable of even doing when it came to Theo, but you couldn’t lie, you hated what he had done. You hated it because it meant that no matter what he or you wanted, things were no longer going to be the same. You couldn’t give him what he needed, craved, and you hated that. Theo deserved the world, but a world that you couldn’t offer him. The tears were rolling freely from your eyes now, staining your blushed stained cheeks. All semblances of the cold were lost on you, you felt nothing but numb, and remorseful, even a little bit angry. He had ruined something that was so utterly good, and thought you were angry at him for that, you couldn’t really blame him. You felt as though your heart had sunk like a bag of stones into your gut, weighing heavy as you fought the urge to keep your gaze on him. It was over, and you didn’t know what to say. You wanted to lash out on him, shove him back and tell him to say it was all a cruel joke, because maybe then you could forgive him, forget it, but you knew that no matter how much you wanted that, it wouldn’t be the truth. He had said his piece, and what was done was done.

“That's-that's not fair.” you cried, holding onto your composure with a literal thread. You pulled your hands from him, using your index finger to shove it into his hard chest. “That is not fucking fair! That's bullshit, Theo!” you couldn’t hold back the tears, the aggression, the ache in your chest, and you wanted him to know. He groaned, exhaling that single breath that he was clinging too, as you repeatedly jabbed your finger into his chest.

“You don’t! You don’t get to ask that of me! You dont get to say that, not now, not fucking now! You- you don't-..” you argued through clenched teeth, but your voice trailed off. It was as if you were at a loss for the right words. Nothing that you were going to say would really express how you felt, how torn you were, nor were they going to repair any of it. He took a step towards you, ready to reach for you, and you shuffled back, nearly tripping over your own blasted feet. “No. no you’re mean, and you're selfish…” you blurted. tears rolling down your face, your breathing coming out in jagged spurts.

Merlin, he would do anything to go back and hold onto what he had said, to pretend like he wasn’t being destroyed by his feelings for you. Back to pretending that whenever he heard the latest of your relationship with his best friend, it didn't wound him more than any physical ailment he could ever experience. Anything to see you smile, and drone on about this and that, rather than to have your cold, accusatory finger being shoved into his heart. Quite literally anything and he would do it, no matter the costs. That's when it hit him. Shoving his hand into the depths of his coat pocket, his fingers carefully wrapped around his wand, looking at you with such a shattering look of sorrow. He was sorry, so unbelievably sorry. Sorry he hurt you, sorry that it confused you, sorry that he ruined his relationship with you, and even more so, sorry that he had told you.

“I’m so sorry..” was all he could offer in respite.

You huffed, brushing him off as you staggered back, as he repeated soft ‘i’m sorry’s. You sighed, fighting ever urge to tell him to fuck off.

“Fuck you, Theo..” you sighed, turning your back to him for a brief moment, wiping the tears from your eyes with your sleeve, trying desperately to get them to stop.

“Obliviate,” he muttered, and you didn't even have the time to react, to turn around and deflect, before a soft haze set over you. He watched as the silver glow at the end of his wand faded, before slowly lowering it to his side. He wasn’t sure that he could do this again, to be your friend after what he had done. Being so close to you, but not being able to have you, or to tell you what you meant to him, because after all was said and done, you weren’t his, you never were, and he knew now, that you never would be.

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