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mingigoo · 10 months

Note

hi sie!! i'm happy to see that your requests are open and would like to request something myself c: 1. seonghwa 2. roommate au 3. prompts 11 and 17 4. with spice please 🙏 thanks so much! i rly appreciate you and your writing even if you can't get to this 💕

I hope you like this!!! really enjoyed writing this one :)

— sleep-talker || p.sh (m.)

“You know you sleep talk?”

“Stop looking at me like that.

🌊pairing ⇢ (fem) reader x roommate! Seonghwa

🌊 summary ⇢ when you and your friends decide on a trip to the beach for spring break, you get stuck rooming with the man you "hate" the most. The line between love and hate is as thin as ice, and you were about to break it.

🌊 genre/au ⇢ roommates au, vacation au, one bed trope, forced proximity au, smut

🌊 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors DNI, wet dreams, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, PDA, "enemies" to lovers, one-bed trope, teasing, jealousy, intense tension like holy hell

🌊 word count ⇢ 10.2k words

🌊 taglist ⇢ @jjhmk @yesv01 @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @yukine-smx @y00nzin0 @8tinytings @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts (please let me know if I forgot you!)

masterlist

ateez masterlist

“Are you for real right now?”

Spring break. A time for rest, relaxation, and lots and lots of sex.

And now, your plans of being a whore for the vacation were ruined.

“Yes, y/n. I can't afford another room just for you to have to yourself,” Hongjoong, your older brother, mumbled as he stuffed the last bit of clothes into his luggage. “You’ll have to room with Seonghwa. San and Wooyoung already called each other.”

He zipped up his suitcase and stood up to leave, but he couldn't get off that easily. “Please, Joong. I’ll do anything. Cant I just room with you and Mingi?” he hastily made his way out of his room and into the living room, trying his hardest to get away from you. “I’ll sleep on the floor. No blanket, just the floor. Please.”

He turned to face you, a confused expression on his face. “Why are you so adamant about not staying with Hwa? What did he ever do to you?” he asked you, genuinely curious. The truth is, he did nothing to you personally. Maybe that was why you hated him, because god, if he gave you the time of day, you would pounce on him like a cat in heat.

You groaned, running a hand through your messy, unwashed hair. “Because he’s a dumb ass jerk that gets everything he wants.”

Hongjoong laughed at you and turned away. “It's only a week, y/n. He’ll probably spend most of his time in our room, anyway. Just bring a book to read or something to distract yourself.”

As if reading is the thing you'll be focused on if you were in a room with him. Oh Nah, you'll be wishing he’d walk around shirtless and hoping he somehow takes a shower and walks out with nothing on—

“I hope you're packed and ready….” Joong trailed off as he looked at your messy exterior, and stifled a laugh. “And if you're thinking of getting laid, you might want to shower.”

You slapped him on the shoulder, having no drive to shower. You'll get one when you get there. It's not like you were that stinky.

“Shut up, dickhead.”

You stood on the sidewalk of your apartment building, Hongjoong’s little yellow Geo Tracker sitting there lookin’ all cute. However, the tiny thing only had five seats.

There were six of you.

“Welp looks like I can't go! What a shame, what a shame,” you sarcastically yelled out, tossing your hands in the air exasperatedly. “Have fun without me!”

“Shut your mouth, will you?” Hongjoong groaned, tossing your luggage into the “trunk” or whatever it was. “It's only a ride to the airport. You can sit on someone’s lap for ten minutes.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why am I the one that has to do that? Wooyoung is like the size of my arm. He can do it.”

Joong shut the trunk with force at your comment, totally disregarding you. “Hop in,” he said. “Enjoy shotgun while you have the chance.”

You got in reluctantly, even though you were very excited about the beach itself. Your excitement was short-lived as you approached the devil’s lair.

“Stay here, I’ll go help them,” Hongjoong mumbled, pushing his sunglasses up on his forehead as he put the car in park.

You nodded, your arms crossed over your chest. You didn't mind the rest of the group— San and Wooyoung always knew how to make you laugh, and Mingi was absolutely eye candy. You wouldn't mind sitting on his lap on the way to the airport.

Just as you got comfortable with your head resting against the window, the door abruptly opened, causing you to nearly fall out of the vehicle. “For fuck’s sake, who the hell—” your words got caught in your throat as you met eyes with Park fucking Seonghwa. “Oh, it's you…”

He stood there, his thin torso draped in a sheer white top and his long, lean legs covered in a pair of black pants. You swallowed your drool like a schoolgirl, making sure he never knows how you think of him.

“What?” you raised your eyebrow, not moving an inch and not even reaching to unplug your seatbelt. “This seat’s taken, buddy.”

He snickered, his lips mockingly curled up in a sneer. “Oh, aren't you a sweetheart? Now move, I called shotgun.”

“Well, I did first.”

“No, you didn't.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No.”

“Yes—”

“Neither of you are getting shotgun,” your brother laughed from behind Seonghwa, San and Wooyoung giggling like the goofs they are next to him. You still didn't move, even as Joong approached and unbuckled your seatbelt for you. “Y/N, please help me out here.”

You debated on throwing a fit, but knowing that it would just cause more problems, you sighed and pushed yourself out of the front seat. Now standing on the curb of the sidewalk right in front of Seonghwa, you tilted your head up to look him in the eyes. His gaze was intense—it made you envision what it would be like in bed, looking down at him from above, and how his eyebrows would knit together in pleasure. God, you needed to get laid this vacation, or you were going to be suffering from delusions.

Without warning, Mingi pushed through both of you, interrupting your staring contest.

“We better go, I don't want to listen to their bickering any longer,” the tall boy huffed as he plopped himself in the front seat, a proud smile resting on his lips.

San sat in the backseat on the right, Wooyoung next to him in the middle. That left either you or seonghwa to fight to the death for that last seat, but you knew how this was going to end.

And it wasn't going to end well.

—

“You comfortable, y/n?” your brother called from the driver’s seat, looking back at you through the rearview mirror.

You frowned so deeply you could've sworn your face was permanently stuck like that.

There you were, in the back of the car, in the most uncomfortable seat ever. Seonghwa groaned underneath you, his bony body not offering you any wiggle room. You didn't answer your brother, you were certain your expression was enough of a response.

You adjusted yourself on Seonghwa’s lap, looking out the window for any distraction. As you moved, you felt him move his hips, and you had to shut away your filthy thoughts about him as soon as they came. Between his movements and his groans, your stomach was knotting in something more than butterflies.

The car was filled with conversation, however, you and Seonghwa remained quiet and in your own little worlds. As the others bantered, you pushed yourself up further on his lap, grimacing as you heard him let out a grunt in your ear.

And then when his hands gripped onto your bare thighs, you were the one to gasp.

“Stop moving,” he whispered in your ear with haste, almost like a sneer. You kept your vision forward as his breath danced in your ear. “It hurts.”

You swallowed hard. “Oh? Is your little dick that sensitive?” you whispered back, smirking. You moved again, this time on purpose, feeling his bulge through his pants. You kept your cool, ignoring his shaky breaths from behind you. “Are you that happy to see me, Hwa?”

“Shut your mouth or you won’t see the sunrise,” he hissed, but his voice was weak.

The ten-minute ride felt like an eternity as he breathed underneath you, your mind constantly thinking about how hard he was getting underneath you and how sweet it would be to turn around and face him to see his reaction to you.

You looked to your right, seeing Wooyoung with a knowing smile on his face. “What?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, grinning. “Nothing, nothing,” he said, letting out a giggle. “Just that you both seem…cozy.”

You slapped him on the shoulder, your movements causing Seonghwa to wiggle underneath you.

“Dammit, Y/N I told you to stop moving,” he seethed, his grip on your thigh tightening. Hongjoong looked back through the mirror, worry in his expression.

“Everything okay?” he asked, meeting your eyes before focusing on the road once again. “We’re almost there, only about a minute or two.”

“Ten-minute ride my ass,” you mumbled, and as you entered the Airport, you should've known that there were going to be speed bumps on the way in….

The shitty old car hopped over the bump, feeling like it hit a huge boulder. You bounced up, not held by any seatbelt, landing hard, right on Seonghwa’s family jewels.

“Fuck,” he cried, tossing his head back against the headrest. Your hands were now holding onto his legs for dear life.

“Joong, will you slow down for those things? Some of us are suffering back here,” you said, to which seonghwa started laughing.

“You're telling me.” he scoffed.

“Okay okay, I just have to park. I have no idea how this works….where the hell is the long-term parking—”

“Probably over there,” Mingi pointed in the opposite direction.

“No, no, I think it’s—”

“I can't take this anymore!” you cried out, leaning forward to assist Hongjoong since Mingi isn't helping. “There's a huge sign in front of us. How can you miss that? It spells it out, dammit.” you huffed, throwing yourself back into your “seat.” This time, he didn't let out a single groan, probably just as fed up with you as you were with him.

Finally, Hongjoong found the lot and parked the car, and as soon as it was stationary, you tossed yourself out of the vehicle like there was no tomorrow. You knew that you couldn't last a minute more on his lap, because if you did, you would be so tempted to turn around and make out with those painfully pretty lips of his. God, he made you so mad. Ever since you met him, there were only the same thoughts circulating round and round.

Dirty thoughts.

Seonghwa crawled out of the car like a decrepit old spider, his long legs holding up his body with grace. You bit your lip, looking down at where you were sitting on him. Quickly, you looked away as he noticed your gaze, and ran away to go help the others with the luggage.

You weren't quick enough to miss the achingly attractive smirk on Seonghwa’s face.

Why did he have to be so….. libidinous? He was like a wild animal, able to take the lives away of his prey with just an expression.

No more seonghwa on the brain—it was beach time. You were certain you could find someone at a bar to sleep with later, and it wouldn't be Hwa.

Not now, not ever.

—

You got lucky with the plane ride.

Your seat buddy was Mingi, and Hongjoong knew how much you like your window seats.

Mingi nearly slept the whole flight, his head rested against your shoulder. He snored a little, but it didn't matter. The gentle giant had a place in your heart, so he could do no wrong.

You often stole glances at Seonghwa across the aisle, his head bobbing up and down as he fought his tiredness. He was so much more likable when he was sleeping, but that was definitely due to the fact that he couldn't stare at you with those entrancing eyes or run that mouth of his.

You were the only one awake by the end of the flight. It was difficult for you to sleep in public places. It didn't feel right. So you would fight off sleep as hard as you could and distract yourself with anything around you.

After the fiasco of leaving the plane, you anxiously trailed behind Hongjoong through the busy airport, pushing past loads of people who had places to be. Thank goodness you were able to leave the airport without a fuss, even if seonghwa was nearly breathing down your neck as you exited.

Luckily, the ride to the hotel wasn't far—and there were more than enough seats for all of you. You distanced yourself from Seonghwa, ignoring his hellish gaze.

The hotel you were staying at stood tall, facing the gorgeous blue ocean for a perfect view. You shut your eyes as you took everything in, smelling the saltiness and the warmth of the air. You smiled to yourself, but your delightful moment didn't last long.

Seonghwa bumped into you purposely, digging his shoulder into yours before walking past you toward the hotel entrance. “Hey, what was that for?” you growled, a scowl on your face.

“You were in the way,” is all he said, not even bothering to turn to face you as he spoke. He continued walking, his beautiful silhouette showing through his sheer shirt. Oh, you wanted to tear it off of him so badly.

You let out a huff of air, but then followed your friends into the building, knowing the end was near if you had to share the room with your snack of choice.

Hongjoong went up to the front desk as you and the boys stood near the doorway, waiting for him to check us in. It didn't take him long, and soon enough, he was walking back over, key cards in his hand, and a bright smile on his face. “All checked in! This’ll be our home for the next week.”

San grabbed his key card first. “Are we all on the same floor? Like in a row? It would be no fun if I had to actually put on clothes to go on the elevator.”

“Yes, San, we’re all on the same floor.” Hongjoong held in his laugh, already clearly enjoying his time away from reality. You stood angrily with your arms across your chest next to seonghwa, who didn't look any happier than you. “And will you two brighten up? You’re killing the vibe.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing up at the boy next to you. His dark hair was slightly frizzy from the humidity, sticking to his forehead like it would if he were sweating. You gulped, thinking dirty thoughts once more before regaining your peace of mind. “I’m not doing anything. It’s all him.”

“No, it’s all you, not me.” he retaliated.

“You’re the one that got a hard-on from me just innocently sitting on your lap.”

“You were purposely shoving your ass on me like a freak—”

“You are ruining the vacation already—”

“Annnd we’re not doing this again,” Mingi sighed and then gripped onto your arm to pull you towards the elevator.

“Let’s go, we got bars to get wrecked at.”

—

“Oh, hell no.”

You dropped your luggage as you entered your room for the week, staring at what was in it.

Or lack thereof.

One bed—a queen, maybe, sat in the middle of the room. A chair was tilted by the sliding glass doors that opened to the balcony, and a lamp stood in the corner. It was cute, of course, but you thought this couldn't get any worse.

Seonghwa walked past you into the room, setting his suitcase on the floor by the chair. “Don't worry,” he hummed, his voice low. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“I–” you paused, taking in a breath before continuing. “You can sleep on the bed, I ain't that mean.”

“So you think I’m going to let my best friend’s sister sleep on the floor?” he laughed, but it wasn't out of humor. “That’s funny. I’d get my ass beat.” He sat down on the floor, stretching out his long legs before opening his suitcase. “Just forget about me like you usually do and take the bed.”

You had no snarky remarks to throw at him this time, your eyelids feeling heavier than ever. You sighed, sitting down on the bed with a thud. “Okay, fine. Wake me up when we are going to leave.”

“Yeah yeah,” he snarkily replied, too focused on his luggage in front of him. You shut your eyes slowly, holding on to your consciousness a little longer, before drifting off into a sleep that would cause an unexpected uproar a few hours later.

—

After your amazing nap, you and the boys found your way to a beach bar, sand filling the floor and loud music playing in the background. You took your rightful spot at the bar, sitting right next to Wooyoung, who was already chugging a fruity margarita.

“You should try this, Y/N,” he let out a satisfied sigh after he finished his gulp. “Tastes like fucking unicorns and rainbows.”

You laughed. “Sounds divine, but I’ll pass and get my whiskey sour.”

He grimaced. “Ew, you should spruce it up a little bit sometimes.”

San sat down on the other side of him, a fancy glass in his hands as well. “Yeah, you’re kind of a bore.”

“San what the—”

“She is, isn't she?” Seonghwa hummed from behind you, and of course, sat his ass in the chair right next to you. You groaned, ignoring him once again, although it was quite hard to not drool as he gulped his beer, his throat bobbing as he drank it.

Fucking hell.

You looked around for any sign of your brother to save you, and once you saw him, you cringed, turning right back around to face the bar. “Dear god, can't he keep his dick in his pants for five minutes?” you shivered, trying to think of anything else other than your brother making out with a random person.

Seonghwa looked back, a smirk on his face as you ordered your drink. “Hypocrite. Just last week I walked in on you with Mingi in the chem lab,” he snickered, his midnight eyes catching the neon lights behind the bar. “Your tongue was so far down his throat I swear I—”

“Says the guy who I caught watching porn freshman year in the computer lab—”

“Here’s your Whiskey sour,” the bartender awkwardly interrupted, but thank god he did. You quickly chugged it, finishing it within a minute of getting it. He gave you another right away, and you downed that one as quickly as it came. He was cute, a little on the scruffy side, but definitely a good one-night. You gave him a look, feeling accomplished as he smirked a little before serving someone else.

“Maybe you shouldn't drink so fast, y/n,” San murmured from Wooyoung’s side, his strong arms holding his weight against the table. “You get drunk really quick on an empty stomach. Remember what happened last time? You have a bad habit of trying to kiss everything you see.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, setting the empty glass down on the bar. As you did that, you felt the warmth of the alcohol fill your body. “What? Who did I kiss?”

Seonghwa laughed from the other side of you while you focused on San.

“Me.” San blinked. “Tongue and all. But not just me, you kissed the statue outside our campus. You know, that really rusty one?”

You gagged. “Ew, no. stop. No, I didn't.”

“Oh, yes you did,” Seongwha piped in, sipping on his third or fourth beer. “And then you threw up on my shoes when I brought you home.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, taking his beer right out of his hands. “Phew, thank god I didn't kiss you,” you shivered, bringing the bottle up to your lips. After you started chugging it a little bit, Hwa ripped the bottle away from you.

You felt your vision start to sway from the alcohol. You loved the feeling of being drunk—just hated the hangovers. Right now though, you wanted to get wasted and go home with a stranger. The hangover will be tomorrow’s problem.

But seonghwa had to just run his mouth once again.

“You know you talk in your sleep, right?” He laughed, a full, humorous laugh. He tossed the bottle to the back of his throat and then continued to laugh at you. “Something about how awful the airplane food was and how drinking milk reminds you of cum.” he grimaced at the last part, but a playful smile still rested on his face. “God you are explicit.”

Your cheeks flushed, looking anywhere but his direction. “I do not sleeptalk.”

You looked to Wooyoung and San for help, but they looked dumbfounded. “I wouldn't know, y/n, I never slept with you,” San smirked, smiling deviously at you. “Unless you’re down with that, I’m all for hearing you sleeptalk in my ear all night.”

“Yeah, me too,” Woo played along, knowing he was just doing it to tease you. Seonghwa, on the other hand, was trying desperately to embarrass you in front of the hot bartender.

“God, it’s so annoying, I wanted to rip my hair out earlier,” he smiled devilishly, his teeth even brighter than normal under all the neon lights. “I thought I couldn't hate you more, but you proved me wrong.”

You looked straight ahead, ignoring Seonghwa’s goofy smile. “Whatever,” you huffed, resting your face on your hand, your elbow holding up the weight. You watched the sexy bartender notice your stare. He smiled and walked over to you.

“Need another sour?” he asked, his cheeks pinched with dimples. You had your eyes set on going home with him, and you were going to follow through with it. Seonghwa can stay outside for the night—or watch, it didn't matter to you.

“Actually,” you pondered, blinking slowly as the alcohol hit your system even harder. “I’ll take a vodka and Sprite. Grey Goose.” you hummed, watching him nod with a smirk on his face.

Seonghwa chuckled, but you were too focused on your mission to hear him blab about how much he hated you over and over again. Soon enough, that damn grey goose hit you harder than anything. Your eyes fluttered after your second glass, your vision fuzzy, and your heartbeat racing.

You let out a heavy sigh, unable to remember your original mission.

“Hey,” you coughed, your cheeks burning up from the toxin. You looked around the bar, only meeting Seonghwa’s eyes…..oh…they’re so pretty. “Where did everyone else go?”

He was facing you, looking at you through those sparkling irises of his. He took in a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, your brother left with that girl he was making out with earlier….San and Woo left not too long ago to go to another bar, and Mingi….” he paused, watching your expression change when mingi was mentioned. “Mingi went with them.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “Why’d you stop at mingi like that?”

He furrowed his brows. “Why’d you look like that when I mentioned him?”

You sniffled, feeling a burning sensation in your throat from all the vodka. “What do you mean?” you were too messed up to defend yourself. You didn't even know your expression changed.

“You looked…different when I said his name.”

You couldn't help but laugh at his dreary tone. “Pfft. Hwa, do you think that just because I slept with him once that I have feelings for him?”

He frowned, his eyebrows knit with confusion. “You slept with him? Mingi?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. Just once, though.” Oh god, you officially couldn't think straight. Why were you even telling him this? “But that was it.”

He looked at you with an unknown expression, flattening his lips. “So you just sleep with anyone, huh?”

You scoffed. “Well, no, not usually.” you bit your lip, looking at him without knowing how you were looking at him. “I kind of always wanted you, but I didn’t understand why, so I ignore the feeling by sleeping with other guys.”

“That makes no sense, y/n,” he spat. “What are you saying?”

You rolled your eyes, drunkenly gripping his broad shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Awh, shut it, Hwa. Haven't you ever felt that before?” you paused, not realizing how close you were. His eyes were sharp, and his lips parted. “Wanting someone you can't have? Knowing that they wouldn't want anything to do with you?”

He swallowed hard, his gaze piercing into you sharply. “You’re drunk, y/n,” he paused, looking at you intently before shaking your hands away. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“Oooh, don't tempt me, baby,” you poked his chest, giggling as he stood up off the barstool. You were completely oblivious to the fact that you just admitted to wanting him, but it didn't seem like he took it seriously.

“Get up,” he huffed, gripping under your arms and lifting you off your chair. You groaned, wrapping your arms around his waist. You held onto him tightly as he reached into his back pocket to grab money, tossing it onto the counter with a glare at the bartender.

“Enjoy your night,” Seonghwa growled, holding onto you, and made his way towards the hotel with you clung to him.

“Seonghwa,” you whispered, a giggle under your breath.

He grunted, pulling you along with him. “What?”

You sniffed. “Can I kiss you?”

He sighed. “No.”

“Why?” you mumbled, shoving your face into his chest.

“Because it’s your drunk habit.”

“So would you kiss me if it wasn't?” you asked, completely obliterated. There was no way you were going to remember this in the morning.

He didn't answer you.

“Come on, Hwa,” you moaned, stopping and gripping onto his collar in front of the hotel. You looked up into his eyes, feeling his intense gaze cut right through your intoxication. You needed him. Needed him bad. “Just once. God, just once.”

“I…” he swallowed, his hands twitching at his sides, crying out to touch you. He kept them away, even if he didn't want to. “Not now. Not while you’re drunk.”

You blinked slowly, watching his lips flatten into a frown. “Does that mean you want to?”

He sighed, running his hands through his hair aggressively. “Please just….let’s get back to the room and get you to bed.”

You groaned, but complied, following him into the hotel and into the elevator. The ride was silent, Seonghwa standing in the corner, farthest away from you, his breathing slowed. You stared at him, leaning up against the wall.

“I really hate you,” you mumbled, glaring at him. He was too sexy, his hair messy, his eyes dark, his long legs taller than a skyscraper. You only admitted your attraction to him when you were drunk, but you couldn't deny the pull you had to him.

He looked up at you, his starry eyes looking from your legs, up to your hips, over your breasts, and finally to your eyes. He took in a sharp breath, biting the corner of his lip.

“I hate you too,” he whispered, his vision low.

And in what world would the words I hate you cause someone’s heart to flutter?

The elevator dinged at your floor, and after a moment of longing stares, Seonghwa gripped your arm and dragged you out. He held onto your drunken body as he searched for his keycard, and once he found it, you tumbled into the room together.

Your back was pressed against the wall, his arms caging you in on both sides. His forehead was on yours, and you were able to feel his hot breath against your lips.

“Oh,” you hummed, your hands subconsciously dancing at the hem of his t-shirt. You watched his throat bob anxiously as you looked into his eyes.

It took everything in him to move away. He coughed awkwardly and then nodded toward the bed. “Come on, you need to rest.”

“Mhm,” you murmured, unable to move in a straight line. You kicked off your sandals, and pulled off your shirt with ease, leaving you only in your bra and that skimpy skirt seonghwa was looking at all night.

He watched as you walked, holding his breath without meaning to.

As you neared the bed, you reached back to unclip your bra, but you couldn't reach it. “Hwa?”

He was looking at the floor. “Hm?”

“Can you…” you paused, giving up on trying to get it off. “Take this off of me? It’s really uncomfortable.”

He blinked, his eyes wide. You couldn't see the confusion in his expression, but you heard the shakiness of his tone. “W-what? Your….bra?”

“Yeah.”

He didn't say anything else. He slowly walked over to where you were, and as his fingertips traced the middle of your back, you shivered under his touch.

He unclasped the hook, but held on to both ends of the bra, afraid to let it drop. “It’s done,” he whispered, backing up slightly.

You dropped the bra onto the floor and then reached to take off your skirt. As you slid it down your hips, you heard seonghwa nearly trip over his feet trying to turn away.

“Do you…always sleep naked?” he asked you, looking anywhere but where you were. You were way too drunk to care about what he sees, but you were also too tired to try. You fell onto the bed, your arm covering your breasts and your underwear still on.

“Fuck, y/n,” Seonghwa huffed, finally looking over and doing everything to not look where he shouldn't. He gently reached for the blanket, tossing it over you in one swift motion.

You shut your eyes tight, feeling his presence loom over you. He brushed away the stray hairs on your face and made sure you were laying on your side.

“.... I’m so screwed,” he muttered, giving you one last look before walking into the bathroom and turning on the cold water.

A cold shower, especially knowing that there was a beautiful, nearly naked girl in the bed just outside the door.

The cold water ran down his body, giving him a rush of pain.

“Fuck,” he hissed, biting his lip as his attraction to you only worsened.

—

After his attempt to cleanse his messy thoughts, Seonghwa stepped out of the bathroom, towel hanging low on his hips. He hesitated before looking over at you, and after he got a good look at your pretty face, he made his way to his luggage, rooting in there for a t-shirt to toss on.

“...seong…hwa,” you moaned.

Moaned.

“....y/n?” he whispered, maybe thinking you were awake and needed something. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but that sounded too….sensual than just a normal tone.

“I…ugh,” you groaned, “don't stop, please. H…Hwa.”

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows, dropping the clothes he had in his hands, eyes wide.

“Seonghwa….”

Okay, that was the third time. You were most definitely dreaming about him….

“Oh…my…god.” Hwa gulped, cautiously standing up and backing away as far as he could from you.

Little did he know how detailed your dream was.

—

His hands snaked up your bare hips, your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips were on your ear, biting, teeth clashing against your skin.

He thrusted into you, hard, his hips buckling as he moaned. You cried out his name, back arching, nails scratching. He fucked you hard, his forehead against yours, and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“You like that?” he whispered, his tongue sliding into your mouth before you could answer. His sweat fell on your cheek, and you moaned out his name once more. You weren't sure how you got here, how this came about, or anything. All that mattered was that you were finally with him, the man you always thought you hated.

“…hwa,” you moaned, “fuck me harder.”

And as he slammed into you with even more force than before, his lips crashed onto yours, his black hair blocking your vision. You wanted more, and more and more—

“Y/n,”

“Just shut up and keep going,” you cried out.

“Y/N!”

You shot awake, gasping for air as your back hit the headboard. You breathed heavily, realizing that you were dreaming about all of that and that the real seonghwa was standing in front of you, shirtless, with an expression you weren't quite sure you’d ever seen before.

“Seonghwa, what—”

“S..stop it. Don't say my name,” he stuttered, looking anywhere but your body. He quickly tossed a t-shirt at you—his t-shirt. “Just put this on. The guys are down getting breakfast, so we gotta go.”

He quickly walked to his own luggage and grabbed a shirt for himself. You watched him as he tossed it on and slid on his shoes, and with one last awkward glance at you, he left the room in haste.

You were too scared to look down, hoping that you still had underwear on. You weren't too sure if that was a dream or not, but given the way he acted, it made you even more confused.

You felt the wetness between your thighs, clenching them with a sigh. You stood up, tossing on the bra that was laying on the floor as if it was thrown off of you.

After cleaning yourself up a bit, you made your way to the breakfast area on the first floor, immediately noticed by Hongjoong. “There you are! I was worried you weren't going to—” he stopped, noticing the shirt that was way too big on you. “That’s the shirt I got Hwa….”

Seonghwa cleared his throat, shoving a bagel into his mouth to distract himself.

You ignored him and sat down across from him and next to Mingi. You looked up, meeting eyes with the man you thought so filthily about, seeing a swipe of cream cheese on the bottom of his lip. You held back, knowing that it’ll just send you into another spiral if you pointed it out.

But when he stuck his tongue out to lick it off, you felt the tingle in your stomach once more, thinking back at the dream you had, and how his tongue caressed you in more ways than one.

He met eyes with you, his lips parting slightly. His gaze was much different than it ever has been. You've never seen him so….lost. His expression was conflicted, his eyes not leaving your lips.

Wooyoung smirked. “Did you guys fuck or something? What’s with the mood?”

“Wooyoung!” Hongjoong yelled.

“What? I’m just pointing out the obvious,” he shrugged.

“We didn't. Keep dreaming,” Seonghwa muttered lowly, taking another bite of his bagel.

Hongjoong huffed. “I don't want to imagine my sister and seonghwa in that way…that’s super weird.”

“Why?” seonghwa questioned, his tone serious. You looked at him, confused as to why he cared. It seemed like everyone else was just as confused as you. “Ahem, I mean…uh, is it that hard to imagine?” Seonghwa’s voice was shaky, his gaze hopping from Hongjoong to you.

It made your brother laugh. “Well, yeah. You guys hate each other, right?” he took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “It makes no sense for you to even see eye to eye, I couldn't imagine you two in any type of relationship. Maybe her and Mingi, out of everyone.”

Seonghwa dropped his bagel face down onto his plate. “Why Mingi? What’s so special about—”

“I’m right here guys….” Mingi tried to interrupt, but Seonghwa shot him a dangerous glare, causing the gentle giant to hold his tongue.

Hongjoong looked around at the boys awkwardly and picked up his fork to continue eating his eggs. “I’m just saying.”

This was too awkward. You kept stealing glances at Hwa as if he were a magnet. You assumed he felt similarly, because every time you looked, your eyes would meet, and then you would awkwardly stare for a moment too long before looking away.

And when he got up to get more food, you got up, too.

“We need to talk,” you whispered, coming right up next to him as he put a muffin on his plate. “Why are you acting weird?”

He sighed and continued to add food to his plate. “I’m not acting weird.”

As he moved to get a drink from the drink machine, you continued to follow him. “Did I do something wrong yesterday?” you gasped, holding a hand over your mouth as he still ignored you. “Did I kiss you? Dear god, I hope not—”

“No, you didn't,” he said quietly, walking back over to the table.

“Something must have happened, seonghwa—”

He stopped, nearly causing you to bump into his back. “Don't.” he paused, taking in a sharp breath, looking over his shoulder at you. “Don't say my name.”

You frowned in confusion, watching the muscles in his back move as he walked away. You couldn't remember your antics yesterday, but maybe you made him uncomfortable by sleeping nearly naked—he hated you, so you could only imagine how irritated he was.

“Listen, if it was because I was naked, I'm sorry—”

Everyone at the table looked up as you spoke, including seonghwa. He looked shy, a blush on his cheeks, and he sat down quickly and stuffed the muffin in his mouth.

“Naked?” Mingi laughed, looking from you to seonghwa suggestively. “Sounds awfully smutty, Seonghwa.”

“We didn't—” he groaned, running a hand down his face. “Nothing happened with us.”

“Mhm, okay,” San smirked. “Whatever you say. Anyway, we have a whole day out planned, so you two better get back to your normal selves or we won't have any fun.”

You really needed to talk to seonghwa, but it seemed like you'll be busy the whole day with the boys—and he didn't seem to be very interested in talking to you, anyway.

You tilted your head in curiosity.

“What are we doing?”

—

The day was eventful.

First, you went to the beach. Seemed innocent, until Seonghwa took off his shirt and got all soaking wet, sending you in a mess of thoughts and a mess below. He would look over at you, and wouldn't look away, paying intense attention to your body in a skimpy little bikini.

When you went to talk to him, he body-slammed you into the ocean, and normally you would've fumed, but this time, you enjoyed his hands on your bare skin.

After the beach, you walked along the boardwalk of shops and lots of food. You grabbed a popsicle, licking it without a thought, but when you felt an intense pressure on you, you looked over to see seonghwa looking at you with an expression you've never seen on him. His eyes were focused on your lips, his own lips curled up as he bit them. You continued to eat your popsicle, but couldn't stop looking at him.

When you tried to bring up last night, Hongjoong came over and took the rest of your pop, running away from you like a child.

At dinner, you sat at the far end of the table, as far away as possible from Seonghwa. It wasn't intended, but now there was no way you could talk, as everyone would hear your conversation.

You ate, feeling defeated. Maybe you should just forget about it.

It was still daylight after dinner. As the guys conversed about what to do next, San and Wooyoung decided to go their own way and walk the beach, which was just their code word for “shopping” for girls. Hongjoong agreed with them, shocking you since he was always hell-bent on not going off a schedule. You assumed he was just going to meet that girl he was with yesterday, but whatever, it just meant that you could be left alone with Seonghwa.

After those three left, it was only you, Seonghwa, and Mingi. Hwa stood with his hands in his pockets, awkwardly looking around as you stood outside the restaurant. Mingi was even more awkward, looking at you before speaking.

“Um, I’m just gonna go with Woo and San, so,” he breathed, looking to seonghwa now. “I’ll see you guys back at the hotel tonight.”

“Okay, Mingi,” you smiled. “See you later.”

You watched him leave and then looked at the boy standing next to you.

“So,” you tried to initiate conversation, but seonghwa started walking in the opposite direction from where everyone else went. You followed. “What should we do?”

“I’m going surfing,” he said blandly. “I don't know about you, though.”

“I’ll come with you,” you smiled, finally catching up to him. He let out an aggravated groan as you walked close to him. “Do you even know how to surf?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, of course, I do.”

“I’m just saying,” you noted, shrugging as you followed him. “You’re too….dainty. I feel like if you fell off you’d break every bone in your body.”

Seonghwa didn't react in any way you were hoping he would. Instead, he kept walking silently, until you reached the part of the beach where the surf shack was. Wetsuits were laid out, ready to be picked up, and surfboards stood tall through the sand and against the building. You stared in awe as you approached, seeing that there was no one else here but you two.

Finally, alone at last.

“Grab a suit if you’re gonna do this,” he pointed to them, raising an eyebrow when you stood there anxiously. “What? Don't you know how to surf?” he mocked.

You kicked at the sand, your hands behind your back. “Pff. yeah, of course, I….no. I don't.” you pleaded with your eyes sweetly, despite all of the dirty things you wanted to do to him. “Could you please teach me? Pretty please?”

He held his own suit close to his chest as he looked down at you. “Why should I?”

You stepped closer to him, causing him to step back cautiously. “Because I’m pretty?”

“Oh honey, who lied to you?” he joked.

“Please, Seonghwa?” you stressed his name, hoping to break him. You watched his eye twitch as you said it, reminding you of earlier when he told you not to say his name.

“Seonghwa seonghwa seonghwa seong—”

“Okay, fine! Jeez,” he huffed, tossing you a suit, only for it to hit you in the face. “Get dressed.”

You walked into the shack with him, going your separate ways at the locker rooms. Everything went smoothly until you tried to zipper the suit up, only being able to get it halfway. You pondered on asking seonghwa for help or completely turning into a contortionist, but after failing to do it yourself, you gave up and left the room to ask him.

Seonghwa stood amongst the surfboards, his lean body looking delicious in that surf suit. You nearly drooled looking at him.

“Hey,” you started, slowly approaching him as he picked out a board. “Can you help me zipper this?”

He turned to you, his expression conflicted as he saw you. You turned around, showing your exposed back, causing him to clear his throat. “O..okay.”

His delicate fingers brushed against the skin of your back, nearly causing you to shiver. You felt his breath hit the back of your neck as the zipper moved up and up until he zipped it completely.

“....There,” he said, swallowing. “You’re all good.”

He didn't move his hands until you pulled away from him, turning back around to face him. The silence was deafening, so you decided to break it.

“Seonghwa, about last night, what exactly happened—”

“Let’s just get started before the sun goes down,” he interrupted, looking anywhere but your eyes. “We’ll talk later.”

That was good enough for now. You watched him try to pick out a board, but he seemed extremely nervous. After a good bit of time, he grabbed a pink one, causing you to smile. Pink suited him so much, more than he’d probably like to admit.

“Let’s start with some basics,” he spoke smoothly, tossing the board down onto the sand. “Get on it. On your stomach.”

You lay down on the board, looking up at him for more directions. He taught you how to paddle with your arms, explaining that you'll have to dive under the waves sometimes if you were okay with doing that. You couldn't look weak now, especially not to him. So after the little training lesson, you were finally in the shallow water, sand already in every nook and cranny of you.

“Try to keep balance,” he said, his voice raspy. It wasn't the time to turn you on, but of course, he could do it just by his voice. “Keep your chest up.” his hand caressed your back, down your spine.

You looked up at him, his wet hair dripping down his face. You held back, as much as you could, from pouncing on him.

But when you fell off the board and got stuck underwater, you’ve never seen him so concerned before.

He grabbed you under your arms, pulling you back up and holding him to you while you coughed. You were perfectly fine—maybe a little too much water in the ears, but it was the least of your worries. What you cared about was the look on his face and the way he caged you to his body.

“y/n?” he rushed his hand over your face, pushing away your drenched hair so he could see you. “Are you okay?”

You coughed, blinking away the salt that infiltrated your eyes. Seonghwa noticed your distress and gently rubbed your face with the pad of his thumb.

“Don't rub your eyes,” he pushed your hand away, still not letting you go from his embrace. “You'll make it worse.”

“It hurts,” you mumbled, causing his look of worry to worsen. True, the salt started burning your eyes, but you couldn't get enough of his caring touch—maybe because he’s never shown this side of himself to you.

He took in an anxious breath as he looked around. “Maybe we should get back to the hotel,” he spoke softly, the sound of water filling your senses as you looked at him.

Everything about his appearance aggravated you—from the way his midnight hair draped his face, dripping with water down his cheeks, to the way his normally judgemental eyes seemed gentle and sweet. He looked kind, the type of man who would worship his lover like a queen, and all the time knowing him, you tried your hardest to only see him in a negative light.

Now, as he held you in the cold, sparkling ocean as the sun was setting, all you saw was your reflection in his eyes and all you felt was the undeniable pull to be with him. To touch him. To kiss him. To tell him that maybe, just maybe, you’ve always had a piece of him in your heart.

“Seonghwa, I…” you paused, ignoring the burn from the salt water. You watched his lips as they slowly parted, his eyes wide as he picked you apart. They looked at you differently, like they never looked at you before, and you wanted him to never stop looking at you.

The distance between the two of you was nonexistent—you saw every drop of water on his skin, and you were certain he was able to gather the meaning behind your gaze. If he did, he didn't say anything—he only looked back at you with those entrancing irises of his, a look you’ve never seen from him. He waited patiently for you to finish your sentence, but you had nothing else to say.

As your lips neared his, you heard his breath get caught in his throat, and you felt his embrace tighten around you. You closed your eyes, taking in the feeling, hoping that he would be the one to lean in and meet your lips.

He didn't.

Instead, his hands trailed down your back, the pink surfboard still floating next to you despite being forgotten. His breath was shaky as he touched you, but the moment ended too quickly as he shook himself out of his trance.

“I um, we should, you know,” he nodded towards the beach, even though you weren't too far out. “We should get back to the room.”

You slowly blinked at him, watching his expression stay the same despite the change of mind. He coughed, letting go of you, but then he grabbed your hand and the board before pulling you to shore.

The walk back was quiet. He didn't let go of your hand until you got back to the surf shack, and he reluctantly let go knowing you had to change.

You both were silent as you looked at each other, but the ache in your chest convinced you to break this tension.

Before you entered the changing room, you quickly turned back around to face seonghwa, who still stood with that….sex-charged expression on his face.

“….Stop looking at me like that,” you hummed, your chest heavy as he breathed in deeply. He looked at you with those bedroom eyes of his, half of his wetsuit already off. He looked deadly, which didn't help your desire.

He swallowed hard but tried his best to remain calm. “Like what?”

You took a step closer, reaching back to your zipper to pull it down just a little. You shrugged it down your bare shoulders, making sure he got to know that there was nothing else but you under that wetsuit once again.

And when you got as close as you could, you said the words you knew would be life or death for him.

“Like you want to fuck me,” you shrugged, acting all cool even though you were falling apart by the second. You were lucky you were at the surf shack at such a late time of day, and that no one else was here except you.

He choked on air, stepping away from you until his back hit the wall. You noticed how his chest rose and fell as he breathed in, and how delicious it would be to just lick him all over….

“I…” he gulped, but his eyes lingered on your shoulders and the curve of your breasts. “I don't know what you mean?”

You smiled through your haze, mind focused on getting to the bottom of his sudden change of attitude towards you. You reached out, gently guiding your hand down the plain of his chest, down his slim, but muscular waist. Oh, you couldn't get enough of him already.

You smirked. “Then tell me why you’ve been eye fucking me all day, or at least what happened last night, so I can understand.”

He blinked fast, looking from your lips, down your neck, to your bare shoulders.

“You…” he took in a sharp breath as your hands trailed down his body. “You sleeptalk.”

“I know that already,” you whispered, looking into his captivating gaze.

He leaned forward slightly, veins popping in his neck as he strained against his judgment. “I mean, you…kept moaning my name. I…I couldn't take it anymore….I can't take it anymore. Every time you speak I just want to fucking shut you up with my mouth for fucks sake.” he huffed, subconsciously gripping your hips as he grits his teeth. “You so annoying, so damn annoying, I can't—”

“Then take me,” you spoke against his lips. “Fuck me. Just like you did in my dreams.”

His forehead pressed against yours as you pushed him further against the wall.

“And how did I do that?” he growled, his fingertips tugging at your wetsuit. “Was I rough? Gentle?” he paused, lips pressed to your neck. “Did I make you say my name, or was that all you with that filthy little mouth of yours?”

You couldn't speak as his lips glided down your neck to your collarbone. He sucked on the skin there, roughly, causing you to suck in a sharp breath and run your hands through his dripping-wet hair.

You moaned, biting his earlobe. “I want you to tear me apart.”

He smirked against your skin, his eyes finally meeting yours.

“Rough it is, then.”

Without warning, he bit his lip hard as he pulled your wetsuit right down to your ankles, the water from his hair dripping onto your bare shoulders. He nearly growled as you stood in front of him, naked as ever, his gaze darkening before gripping the back of your neck to pull you to him.

As he sucked on your neck, you pulled down his suit with aggression, not quick enough for the hunger in both of your souls. His hot breath tickled your skin, his hands clawed at your hips, and his lips begged to kiss yours as you shoved him against the wall once again, skin on skin. He breathed heavily, his eyes dancing from your breasts to your waist, to your lips.

You gripped onto his hair, staring into his eyes for a moment before you locked your lips with his, tasting the saltiness of the ocean and the sweet warmth of his saliva. Your tongues fought for their lives, dancing as you deepened the kiss. Foreheads slamming, hands invading space. It was all over for your sanity the minute his long fingers glided against your core, his middle finger finding your clit and rubbing gently. His kisses were rough as his fingers delicately touched you, fueling the fire within you even more than it already was.

“Seonghwa,” you moaned against his ear, causing him to move his hand faster with a grunt. “Push them in me.”

He hissed, his eyes rolling back into his head as he pulled his hands away for a moment, only to suck his fingers in front of you before shoving them into you, curling them up inside you. You arched your back against him, crying out as his lips found yours once again.

He kissed you deeply as he made love to you with his hands, his fingers long enough to reach deep inside of you—but it wasn't enough. You bit his lip sharply as he fingered you, causing him to hiss in pleasure. “I need your cock in me. Now.” you licked his jawline, watching him squirm in your embrace.

His cheeks were flushed red as he looked at you, his eyes looking as if he were intoxicated. “I…fuck,” he sucked in a breath, kissing you as his fingers moved faster and faster. “Okay.”

As he pulled his fingers out of you, he licked them once more, his eyes on yours seductively.

“You taste so good.” he moaned, his mouth parted. He then lifted you up, walking you over to the table of waxed surfboards in the middle of the room. Shoving everything off with one hand, he threw you onto the wood, causing you to let out a little grunt.

“You’re so sexy,” he leaned over you, slamming your hands above your head before silencing your moans with a rough kiss. “So fucking sexy, you have no idea how long I wanted to shove my dick inside you.” His words were like gasoline to your fire, causing you to cry out in a whimper for him to do exactly what he said he would do. You kept your mouth shut as he tugged you to the edge of the table, lining up his hard-on to enter you.

After a look of longing, he spit onto his fingers and rubbed them onto his cock and your heat, his chest falling and rising with his heavy breathing. He then buried himself inside you, deeply, causing your breath to hitch. He was even bigger than your dreams, tearing apart your expectations of his skills. You tried your best to free your arms from his hold, but as he moved in and out of you, you had lost the desire to escape it. You really liked the feeling of his fingernails tearing into your skin.

“Ah,” he whimpered, his hips rocking quickly, his eyes shut tight. His thrusts were deep, not slowing down for a second.

Your legs curled around his shoulders, his one arm holding your hands and his other piercing into your ankle. He grunted as he pumped into you, tearing at your insides, feeling him fill you up. “Hwa,” you groaned, back arching in pleasure. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He grunted in response, speeding up faster as his hips slammed into yours. You felt him quiver inside you, precum dripping into you without a care. You loved the feeling, you didn't care about the risks in the moment.

You climaxed without warning, your legs tightening around his head. He kept muttering your name over and over again against you, kissing the skin of your ankles as he continued to fuck the living shit out of you. You started to see stars as he nearly cracked your spine, and right before he nearly came, he flipped you over onto your stomach without ever leaving you.

Your face was shoved against the wood of the table, the sweet smell of sex enveloping your senses. You cried out his name as he gripped onto your hips, moving faster as his own orgasm came close. His lips met the small of your back, his fingers gripped your ass with haste.

“I’m going to come,” he mumbled, his voice raspy. “Can I come in you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Come inside me.”

As if your words stirred something within him, he immediately moved in shorter movements, his grip on your ass tightening as his orgasm came. His breathing shallowed as he came into you, filling you up with his cum. You let out one last moan as you felt his warmth, and he kissed the back of your neck as he finished.

He pulled out of you slowly despite how rough he was—he could've been rougher, but you didn't want him to think of you as the insane slut everyone thought you were.

Even though you only ever slept with others because you couldn't have him.

And now…..what comes next?

He helped you sit back up to a normal position, and when he saw the dark, purple bruises on your neck and collarbone, he gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry,” his fingers gently brushed against your hot skin as if he didn't just totally destroy you. “I kind of….went crazy, didn't I?”

You smiled up at him in a daze, both your cheeks blushed in embarrassment and enjoyment. “I like crazy.”

He paused, standing proudly in front of you with that delicious body of his. You sighed in contentment, a lazy smile on your lips. “I dreamt of this. Literally.” you reached out to him, pulling his lips down to yours. He kissed them softly, opening his mouth wide as he made out with you. You didn't want to pull away, but as the thought of you both having sex in a public surf shack came to your mind, you pulled away quickly, startling him.

“Um, so,” you laughed awkwardly. “Should we head back now? We are kind of in a public place….”

Seonghwa looked around, smirking as he leaned forward on the table, kissing you once more. “It was kind of thrilling, not gonna lie.”

You leaned into his embrace, his hands caressing your back romantically. “So,” you whispered against his lips. “We should get back. And this time, you better sleep in the bed with me.”

“Oh, baby, I plan on doing more than just sleeping.”

—

After countless rounds of ‘sleeping’, you ended up waking up late in Seonghwa’s embrace, his lips pressed against the curve of your shoulder as he held you. He quite literally rocked you all night long, and you even discovered his love for reverse cowgirl—making him come within two minutes of the fifth round.

Now, as you lay in his arms while he slept, you finally felt content. He was all you ever wanted, even though your words said otherwise this whole time of knowing him.

“Hey,” you turned around in his embrace, pressing your lips against his forehead. “Seonghwa.”

“Hm?” he grumbled sleepily, his eyes blinking open to meet yours.

You smiled, running a hand through his messy hair. “We should get up. The others are probably waiting for us in the lobby.”

“Ugh, why?” he groaned, holding onto you tighter. “ I don't want to leave this bed today. Or ever.”

You giggled, pecking his lips. “Come on, Hwa. I really would like to get a tan on the sand today.”

His eyes were wide open now, but he blinked slowly from his sleepiness. “We barely got any sleep,” he huffed, shoving his head into your shoulder. “And I can't kiss you in front of everyone, I can't wait the whole day to touch you.”

You grinned chaotically.

“Who says we have to hide it?”

—

“Dear lord,” Wooyoung huffed, sitting with his arms crossed at the beach. “Are they ever going to stop and come up for air?”

Your friends sat on towels on the sand, while you sat on Seonghwa’s lap as you made out with him. His hands gripped your face as he stuck his tongue in your mouth, both of you having no care for those around you.

“I knew this was going to happen,” San mumbled with a smirk, elbowing Wooyoung playfully. “Just let them have their fun. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Pfft,” Woo scoffed, looking at how seonghwa touched you.

“I always thought I would be the one tapping that.”

“Wooyoung shut the fuck up.”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #roomates #vacation au #ateez masterlist #enemies to lovers #fwb #wooyoung #San #mingi #Hongjoong

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 10 months

Note

Hi hun. If you’re taking requests could you write something about dadrry maybe something where they have another baby and their first kid starts to act out and get jealous.

Jealous Baby Styles.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist is here.

word count -

in which, five days ago, you and harry welcomed another little baby into the world, but the blissful baby bubble isn’t all it turns out to be when you have a toddler as well.

Sitting on the cosy sofa with your husband, Harry, and your four-year-old daughter, Marlie, you find yourselves in a whirlwind of emotions and exhaustion. Just five days ago, you and Harry welcomed your precious baby boy, Billie, into the world. As you sit together, Marlie is the furthest away from you, engrossed in her iPad, while you hold Billie close in your arms.

At this moment, you're dressed in nothing but a sports bra and shorts, accompanied by a postpartum nappy that reminds you of the physical toll your body has endured. Your hair, untamed and unwashed, reflects the lack of time you've had for self-care since Billie's arrival. The need for a shower looms over you, but finding the time seems impossible.

The exhaustion is palpable, etched onto your face and seeping into your bones. Five days of little sleep have taken their toll, as you struggle to get more than three hours of rest at a time. Napping is a luxury you can't afford, for you have a toddler to look after alongside your newborn.

Despite the weariness, there's a deep sense of joy and fulfilment within your heart. As you sit on the sofa, the love in the room wraps around you, providing strength amidst the exhaustion. Harry's gaze is filled with admiration and unwavering support, offering reassurance in this challenging phase. Marlie occasionally glances up from her digital world to shower her baby brother with smiles, a testament to the bond forming between them.

Amidst the chaos and messiness of this phase, you find solace in the unity of your family. The sacrifices you make—sleepless nights, dishevelled appearance—are small prices to pay for the overwhelming love and fulfilment that parenthood brings. You draw strength from each other's presence, knowing that this stage, although demanding, is temporary.

You find yourself dozing off on the sofa, the weight of fatigue pulling at your eyelids as Billie rests peacefully in your arms. Just as sleep threatens to overtake you, your husband speaks up.

"Hey, love," Harry gently says, his voice breaking through your drowsiness. "Y'should go upstairs and lie down for a while."

You stir, feeling torn. As a breastfeeding mother, you can’t help but worry that Billie might wake up hungry and need a feed. The thought of leaving him even for a short while makes you hesitant.

"But what if 'he needs to eat?" You express your concern, looking at Harry with tired eyes.

Harry's reassuring voice comforts you. "Don't worry, darlin'. There's pumped milk in the fridge. If 'e gets hungry, I'll take care of it."

Your mind races, contemplating the logistics of it all. Harry would have to manage both Marlie and Billie while you catch up on some much-needed rest. It feels overwhelming', but Harry remains steadfast.

"I don't get up for the night feeds because y'breastfeed 'im," Harry reminds you. "I'm only responsible for changin' nappies. Y'deserve a nap. Let me handle things for a while."

Reluctantly, you give in, nodding your head in agreement. The weight of exhaustion and the realisation that you desperately need rest outweigh your concerns. Trusting Harry to care for both Marlie and Billie, you surrender to the idea of stealing' a precious moment of sleep.

And with that nod, the scene concludes, leaving you with the anticipation of the rest you so desperately need.

Once you've nodded, Harry gently takes Billie from your tired arms, causing the little one to stir slightly at the movement. With a soft whisper of reassurance, Harry slowly lowers him into the cozy bassinet placed in the front room.

"Don't worry, mate," Harry whispers to Billie, his voice soothing. "I've just gotta help y’mama get upstairs. You'll be alright."

Meanwhile, Harry turns his attention to Marlie, who is engrossed in her playtime on her ipad. "Marlie, m’love," he says, trying to engage her. "Y’keep an eye on y’baby brother, alright?"

Marlie, fully immersed in her imaginative world, remains focused on her screen and doesn't respond to Harry's words. However, both you and Harry are too preoccupied with ensuring a smooth transition upstairs to give much thought to her lack of response.

Harry offers his strong and supportive arm, helping you up each step of the staircase. You're still feeling the lingering discomfort from giving birth, and his gentle whispers of reassurance provide a comforting backdrop to your ascent.

"It's alright, m’love," Harry murmurs, his voice filled with tenderness. "Just take it easy. We'll get y’settled in no time."

As you reach the top of the stairs, Harry guides you into the peaceful sanctuary of your master bedroom. He lovingly pulls back the soft duvet, creating a welcoming space for you to find comfort. With careful attention, he assists you in getting cosy, ensuring you're nestled in just the right way.

Leaning down, Harry presses a tender kiss to the top of your head, a gesture filled with love and support. His presence is a soothing balm, reminding you that you're not alone in this journey.

"Rest well, m’beautiful," Harry whispers, his voice carrying a mix of affection and concern. "Is there anything else y’need before I head back downstairs?"

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you assure him that you have everything you require nearby. The essentials are within reach, and you're grateful for his attentiveness.

"No, I think I have everything I need," you reply, feeling the warmth of his care enveloping you. "Thank you, baby."

With a final loving gaze, Harry bids you farewell and heads back down the stairs. You watch him go, appreciating the support he provides as he tends to the needs of your growing family.

As Harry descends the stairs, a cheerful voice calls out to him, filling the house with excitement. It's Marlie, eager to have her daddy join in the playtime fun.

"Daddy, come play with me!" Marlie's voice resonates through the living room, brimming with anticipation.

Harry's heart melts at his daughter's request. With the arrival of their baby boy, he recognizes the importance of making sure Marlie feels loved and included. A warm smile spreads across his face as he joins her on the floor, ready to embark on a Barbie-filled adventure.

"F’course, sweetheart!" Harry replies, his voice infused with enthusiasm. "Who do we have here today? What's your Barbie's name?"

Marlie giggles with delight, holding up a doll with a vibrant purple dress. "This is Princess Lily!" she exclaims, her eyes shining with excitement.

Harry joins in the fun, adopting a high-pitched voice for his Barbie doll. "Well, hello there, Princess Lily! It's an honor to meet you. Shall we go on a grand quest together?"

Marlie claps her hands, her imagination taking flight. "Yes, Daddy! Princess Lily needs to find the hidden treasure in the enchanted forest!"

And so, father and daughter dive into the world of make-believe, crafting intricate storylines and creating magical moments. Their voices fill the room as they bring their Barbie dolls to life, each character imbued with unique personalities and aspirations.

Harry leans into the role, using exaggerated gestures and a playful tone to captivate Marlie's imagination. "Princess Lily, fear not! With my trusty unicorn steed, we shall journey through the enchanted forest and overcome any challenges that come our way!"

Marlie's eyes sparkle with delight as she continues the story. "Yes, Daddy! And Princess Lily is brave and kind, just like you!"

Harry's heart swells with pride, cherishing these precious moments with his daughter. As they play, their laughter fills the air, creating a symphony of joy and connection.

As the game unfolds, Marlie introduces new twists and turns, each narrative becoming more whimsical than the last. Harry is fully engaged, actively listening and responding to Marlie's ideas, allowing her creativity to flourish.

"Daddy, look! Princess Lily found a magic wand!" Marlie exclaims, waving a tiny plastic wand in the air.

Harry gasps dramatically. "Oh my goodness, Princess Lily! With that magic wand, you can bring smiles to everyone's faces and spread happiness throughout the kingdom!"

Their playtime continues, with Harry and Marlie exploring the depths of their imagination. They share laughter, engage in heartfelt conversations, and build a bond that transcends the mere moments spent on the floor.

As the playtime reaches its vibrant peak, a sudden cry pierces the air, interrupting the magical atmosphere. Billie, nestled in his bassinet, demands attention, and Harry knows he must momentarily step away to tend to his newborn son.

"Mar, m’love, I need to go check on Billie for a moment," Harry gently explains, his voice filled with concern. "He's crying, and I have to make sure he's alright."

Marlie's face scrunches up, her brows furrowing in protest. "No, Daddy! Stay and play with me!" she pleads, her voice tinged with disappointment.

Harry sighs, torn between the needs of his two children. He longs to grant Marlie's request, to stay and continue their joyful playtime. However, his paternal instincts compel him to ensure Billie's well-being.

"M’promise, sweetheart, it won't take long," Harry reassures Marlie, trying to ease her disappointment. "I just need to see if Billie needs some comforting. I'll be right back."

With a heavy heart, Harry makes his way to Billie's bassinet, his footsteps filled with a sense of urgency. As he reaches the bassinet, a pungent smell wafts through the air, indicating that Billie's nappy needs changing.

"Oh, baby darling, did y’make a poo?" Harry chuckles softly, carefully lifting Billie into his arms. "Let's get you to the changing table and sort this out."

Carrying Billie over to the changing table nestled in the corner of the room, Harry sets him down gently, his eyes filled with adoration for his newborn son. As he begins the task of changing Billie's nappy, Harry maintains a soothing and comforting tone, engaging in heartfelt conversation with his little bundle of joy.

"Alright, little man, let's get this nappy changed," Harry murmurs softly, his voice filled with warmth. "You know, Billie, you have the best big sister in the world. Marlie loves you so much, just like I love my sister, Gemma."

As Harry carefully cleans and wipes, he continues to share stories and whispers of love, creating a bond between father and son. He narrates tales of the adventures Marlie and Billie will embark upon, painting a vivid picture of a future filled with laughter, support, and sibling camaraderie

"You and Marlie are going to be the best of friends," Harry assures Billie, a twinkle of anticipation in his eyes. "Just like how Gemma and I have been there for each other through thick and thin, you and Marlie will have a lifelong friendship."

While Harry is engrossed in the intimate interaction with Billie, he remains unaware of Marlie's presence on the floor, her Barbie dolls momentarily forgotten. Tears stream down her face, her heart yearning for her father's undivided attention. She watches as Harry and Billie share this tender moment, her emotions running deep.

Harry carefully fastens a fresh nappy around Billie, stealing a glance at his son's cherubic face. Little does Harry know, the tender moment he shares with Billie coincides with Marlie's emotional outburst, leaving a trail of tears in her wake.

As Harry finishes the nappy change and turns his attention back to the room, he realizes that Marlie is no longer in sight. Concern fills his heart, and he quickly secures Billie in his bassinet, ensuring his comfort and safety. Gently, Harry rocks the bassinet back and forth, using the soothing motion to lull Billie into a peaceful slumber.

Once satisfied that Billie is settled, Harry grabs the baby monitor, clutching it tightly in his hand. With each step, he follows the faint trail of Marlie's sobs, determined to find her and offer the comfort she so desperately needs.

As he steps into the serene garden, the soft breeze rustles the leaves of Marlie's favorite tree. His gaze searches the tranquil space until he spots her huddled beneath the branches, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the golden sunlight. Harry's heart aches at the sight, knowing the depth of her emotions.

Silently, Harry approaches Marlie, his steps careful and deliberate. He takes a moment to compose himself, wanting to offer her solace and reassurance. With a gentle touch, he sits beside her, enveloping her in a warm embrace that conveys his love and understanding.

With a gentle touch, Harry sits beside Marlie under the comforting shade of her favourite tree. He wraps his arm around her trembling shoulders, offering a sense of security and warmth. But as he does, Marlie tries to crawl away, clearly upset with him.

Harry's heart sinks at her attempt to distance herself, understanding the depth of her emotions. "Marlie, m’love," he says softly, his voice filled with compassion. "Y’don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I'm here, and I'll sit with you."

Silence settles between them as they sit side by side. The tranquillity of the garden envelops them, granting them a moment of respite from the weight of their emotions.

After several minutes, Marlie slowly crawls into Harry's lap, her tiny fingers playing with the cross necklace dangling from his neck. She hesitantly begins to speak, her voice soft and fragile.

"I didn't mean to get upset," Marlie whispers, her eyes cast down.

Harry's hand continues to rub soothingly up and down her back. "It's alright, m’heart. What upset you? Y’can tell me."

Marlie shrugs her shoulders, her words barely audible. "I don't want to be forgotten."

A wave of realisation washes over Harry as he comprehends the root of Marlie's anguish. He holds her tighter, understanding the fear that lingers in her young heart.

"Oh, sweetheart," Harry murmurs, his voice filled with tenderness. "I'm so sorry if it feels like Billie is taking me and mama away from you. That's not his intention at all, it’s because he’s a baby that he needs a lot of our time, you were like that when you were his size."

Marlie's tears continue to flow as she searches for the right words. "I don't like my baby brother," she confesses, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and confusion. "He keeps taking you away from me."

Harry's heart aches as he absorbs Marlie's words. He continues to hold her, rubbing her back in gentle circles.

"I understand, m’heart," Harry whispers, his voice tinged with regret. "When I was born, Aunt Gemma must have felt the same way. But y’know what? Mama and I love both of y’so much. We're going to spend lots of time with both of you, making sure you both feel special."

Marlie looks up at Harry, her tear-stained face searching for reassurance. "Really?"

Harry nods, his eyes filled with sincerity. "Absolutely. Tonight, you can sleep in our bed, and we'll have a special time together. Mama, you, Billie, and me."

And with that promise hanging in the air, the weight of their emotions begins to lift. Harry holds Marlie tightly, hoping to mend the cracks in her tender heart. Under the sheltering embrace of the favourite tree, they sit together, finding solace in their love for one another.

“Now,”Harry pushed some curls away from her face and stared into the matching eyes of his little girl. “How about we go make mama some cupcakes for when she wakes up, just me and you whilst baby brother sleeps?”

Marlie’s eyes lit up, nodding her head as she snuggled her face into the crook of her fathers neck. “Just us?”

“Just us.”

600 notes · View notes

auteurdelabre · 2 months

Text

Window Dressing: Chapter 1 - Dave York x f!Reader

Window Dressing

pairing: Dave York x F!Reader (NO use of y/n)

Story summary: Resolving to achieve professional success within the CIA you embark on a ruthless game of one-upmanship against your work nemesis Dave York, a rivalry that is complicated by your growing attraction to him.

[AU - Dave is divorced and he still works for the CIA because I want our suburban murder daddy have a nice life. ]

Chapter summary: When the CIA director offers up an opportunity for field work you jump at the chance. Too bad your work nemesis and colleague is just as excited for the position.

Chapter Tags: Enemies to lovers, colleagues, work jargon, nicknames, mentions of divorce, disrespect.

a/n: I just finished my yearly rewatch of The Hating Game (y’all don’t come for me, my job is stressful and I like to decompress with something silly). And all I could think of was an MC and Dave in a similar situation and before I knew it the first chapter was already written. It’s gonna be cute and since its me there’s gonna be smut but unlike me, not a ton of angst. Don’t look to close at the CIA details because your girl don’t know shit about it. Just go with the romantic-comedy vibrations.

Chapter 1: CodeBook

Codebook: A list of plain language words opposite their codeword or codenumber.

Working at the CIA isn’t that much different from a normal day job as most people think.

You go to work in the subway along with everyone else. You read your paperback of the week sipping overpriced coffee and trying to ignore the stench of unwashed masses that dot the DC metro.

You wear comfortable shoes and pilled sweaters and your hair frizzes in the rain. You don’t look any different from anyone else that walks the terrain on their way to their Monday to Friday job. You start at eight am and end at five, unless a job requires you stay later.

Much like most offices with a lot of moving pieces, a majority of your job involves paperwork, worrying about schedules, IT problems, editing reports and more. It’s not as glamorous as the TV shows make it out to be. You are not Claire Danes in Homeland no matter how much you wish you were.

You wear a lanyard that holds a plastic square with your name and face on it that you scan at the entrance. Every morning you wave and say good morning to Dennis, the head of security at the front before slipping him a donut you got along with your coffee.

“You’re too good to me,” Dennis murmurs as you hand it to him.

You just smile. Dennis was one of the first people you met here at Headquarters and you have nothing but good things to say about him. He was kind and patient when everyone else rolled their eyes murmuring about the new hire.

The similarities to another corporate office might be that the coffee sucks and there are definitely cliques within workers. Considering you’re all in different departments this isn’t really much of a shock. Some of your departments overlap with one another, especially if there’s a potential high profile target.

You nod and smile at colleagues as you pass them on your way to the Operations department, ignoring the way many of them look more anxious than usual. This isn’t a surprise given what you saw on the news this morning.

You take the elevator down several floors before exiting and spotting a familiar slender figure perched on the edge of your desk. His hair is combed to either side of his pinched face and behind his thick framed glasses he looks like he’s analyzing something, as he always is.

“Hey Otis,” you say cheerfully as you lay down your purse at your desk.

Your desk is one of the few places in the world that feels uniquely you. You’ve decorated it with a pink stapler, purple and blue paper clips. Your folders are gold striped. Your desk itself is littered with a collection of tchotchkes from over the years, none more impressive than your rubber duck collection.

Otis pats one of your rubber ducks swiftly before standing and giving you a formal nod.

“Morning. I was just dropping some papers off and couldn’t help but notice you’ve added to your collection.”

You smile, nodding as you motion to your latest acquisition; a rubber duck playing the saxophone and wearing sunglasses. All the way from New Orleans and from a very competitive bidder on Ebay. But it was worth it to have your little jazz quacker sitting proudly with the others that line your desk.

Otis is one of the few people at work that doesn’t seem to be bothered by much. He does his job well and he always has an interesting fact to share. Well, interesting to him anyway.

Otis also likes to hover around your desk in the mornings for a chance to interact with your co-worker Priya. The prettiest girl at the CIA and the nicest. She brings in cupcakes for your entire team during holidays. She loves to laugh at everything you say, which makes you like her even more. She’s also wickedly smart and even faster than you at translation (which is saying something). As if on cue, you see her stumbling into the office with a coffee stain on her pale blue blouse.

“Damn potholes,” she mutters angrily, throwing her bag and onto her desk and giving her version of a frown, which is the equivalent to a kitten mewling for the first time.

“Morning Priya,” Otis says, his pale cheekbones pinking. You smirk, trying not to watch as their awkward flirtation commences.

“Morning Otis,” she replies cheerfully before organizing her desk for the day. “You have a good weekend?”

“Very,” Otis nods. You watch one of his long fingers tap along the head of your police officer duck nervously. “Uh, was watching a documentary on Jack the Ripper. Very intriguing.”

“Oh yeah,” Priya nods politely, her eyes on her computer as she boots it up for the day. You’re saved from the uncomfortable interaction by the sound of a female voice ringing out behind you. A voice that makes you sit straighter in your seat as you swivel your chair to face her.

She’s a fierce-looking Asian woman with short cropped hair and deep plum lipstick. All of her black blazers are tailored perfectly to her slender body and despite her diminutive stature you know she could kick anyone’s ass here.

“Meeting in five in Boardroom B,” Mina says to the crowd of arriving staff. “Don’t be late.”

She strides from you all, heels clicking against the tiled floor and the room seems to exhale in tandem. She’s terrifying. She’s amazing.

Mina Crawford is the Director for field officers and counter intelligence. She’s a former Clandestine Service officer and one of the few living recipients of the Intelligence Star. Basically, she’s your hero. And you want to follow in her footsteps because from what you’ve gathered she used to be in your exact position as a Languages Officer.

“She’s so cool,” you practically swoon.

“Ask her to be your mentor,” Priya insists for the fiftieth time.

“That would be humiliating,” you reply, as you always do. “I’m too old for a mentor.”

“No one is too old for a mentor,” Priya insists.

“You see that stuff on the news last night?”

“The parliament member in Lebanon?” Priya nods, dropping her voice quietly.

“I think they’re going to send someone into the field,” you say trying not to sound excited. “Someone with language experience.”

“You think?”

“Think about it,” you reason. “All the higher profile killings have been in places with very little English. Stands to reason they would send a Language Officer out.”

“Even with no field experience?” Otis asks. He looks doubtful which makes you frustrated. If Otis doesn’t think it’s gonna happen there’s a good chance it won’t. Brenda, a cheerful-looking woman in her fifties takes her seat in the desk next to you.

“Gotta learn somehow,” you shrug. “But maybe they’d team them up with a senior Agent or something.”

Priya is about to reply when her large eyes go over your shoulder and she grimaces.

“Here they come.”

You, Priya and Otis glance over to see eyes the crowd of suited men and women murmuring gently to themselves.

The Protective Officers.

If this was highschool they’d be the popular kids. Getting to go on glamorous field missions, being right in the heart of the action. All are good with their weapons, all look like they stepped off the pages of some high end catalogue because their paycheques far outweigh your own. Several of the younger men chuckle loudly, giving off the energy of an American Psycho Fraternity.

“Assholes like that get to go to foreign countries, to experience life all over the globe and we’re stuck here,” you grimace, typing your Algeria field notes later that day. “I can’t stand it.”

“I would hate to be in the field,” Brenda says with a theatrical shudder from beside you. “I like the safety of the desk.”

“That’s not why I went through basic training with an emphasis on stalk training,” you insist. You worked your ass off in training, making sure that you were as prepared as anyone else. While officers are rarely trained in weaponry or hand-to-hand combat you’d requested it. Worked earlier and stayed later if it meant a chance to learn more.

And now these chuckle-fucks come in with swinging dicks and they get all the glory. Two of them walk by you towards the coffee maker.

“And she was high key the best I’ve ever had,” one says to a man with perfect teeth.

“You have no rizz,” the younger man replies with a boisterous laugh. “How the fuck you pull that off?”

Jesus.

“You know I speak Russian, Spanish, Arabic and a handful of others and I will never be able to unravel the elusive bro code of the Protective Officers,” you muse dryly as you roll back in your chair. Otis smirks and Priya laughs behind her coffee mug, drawing the attention of several of the agents including your bitter work rival: Dave York.

Dave York is the most annoying man you know at the CIA. He is a senior agent well-liked in the office and he gets along with almost everyone. You’re quite the same within your department. But the two of you? There’s no love lost there.

Dave saunters over to your desk and you spin back around to face your computer. You have no desire to be caught up in a verbal sparring match today. You have to be focused for the meeting in case there is the offer of putting newbies into the field. It’s something you’ve dreamed about since you started here five years ago.

“Been to any fun graveyards lately, Parsons?” Dave offers with a touch of humor in his deep, rasping voice. A voice that you find impossibly grating. It’s like having your ears run over by a gravel truck.

“Actually yes,” Otis says with a bracing smile. “One in New Orleans just proved very useful.”

Otis Parsons is a Ghoul which means he parses obits and graveyards for deceased individuals agents can use for aliases. He enjoys his job more than most and with his severe eye contact and strangely chilling manner of speaking you can see why some are put off. You happen to think he’s hilarious in an eerie, Crispin Glover sort of way.

“Parker, I need these tapes from Algeria parsed,” Dave says flatly, tossing a file onto your desk without so much as a hello.

Your name isn’t Parker, neither first nor last. It’s a nickname given to you (unwillingly) by the tall man with dark eyes who looks down at you with a trace of amusement along his full mouth.

It’s what started this whole antagonistic relationship if you’re honest. Your first day on the job being introduced to the agency. Meeting every department head, learning names, faces. When you met Dave you’d been charmed by his winning smile, shaking his hand politely and even thinking distantly that if he weren’t wearing a wedding ring he’d be just your type with his soulful brown eyes and pouty mouth.

But then your eyes had slid to the large board on the wall, the one covered in newspaper clippings and strings and you’d started asking questions about the case. Your excitement had been evident; the questions pelted at a bemused looking Dave who scanned you from head to toe and announced that you were a Nosy Parker before excusing himself.

You hadn’t known what that meant and had offered a weak shrug in return before being whisked into the next department. When you’d returned home that evening and were able to use your phone you saw the definition pulled up on Google and you winced.

noun derogatory•informal noun: nosy parker; plural noun: nosy parkers; noun: nosey parker; plural noun: nosey parkers an overly inquisitive person.

You’d been embarrassed at being called that during your first day on the job in front of your superior. It made the following months tense as you navigated your position, learning from the woman Brenda whose job you were taking over. It made you second guess yourself every time you wanted to ask a question. It wasn’t until Priya started and she’d asked all the same questions and been answered with level kindness that you’d realized asking questions wasn’t nosy or annoying, it was how everyone learned.

Dave York has called you Parker ever since that day and you have hated him every time.

And now he stands beside your desk looking like some glorified accountant in his tailored suit shooting a supercilious look your way. He always wears shades of blue; navy, cobalt, baby blue and iceberg just to name a few. The worst part is it’s usually paired with a burgundy tie that clashes hideously. You know he’s not color blind, (you can’t be if you’re an agent), so you can only assume the choice is masculine ambivalence.

You open the file with a weary sigh. “Where in Algeria specifically?”

“Isn’t that your job, Parker?”

“You have nothing else to go on?” you sneer up at him, opening the folder. “Some agent.”

“Officer,” Dave corrects with a smirk before resting his hands on either side of your desk, bent over so he can capture your eyes with his. You blink rapidly, noting that today he’s missed shaving a small spot on his sharp jaw. It’s barely noticeable and if he wasn’t this close you’d never have known. But he is this close and suddenly that’s all you can focus on.

“You’re right,” Dave says, voice dropping an octave. “It’s much better that I use my considerable talents sitting on my ass going through hours of audio that rarely ever turns out to be useful. My mistake.”

You’re not stupid. You know that those of you in the Language department are seen as lesser agents. Your knowledge in languages makes you an asset in the office, not necessarily in the field. And yet they would be nowhere without you.

“Considerable talents?” you scoff before glaring up at him. “Is that what your wife tells you? Spoiler alert, York, she has to say that since her lapse in judgment at the altar.”

The benign amusement flees from Dave’s face immediately. You wait for the biting retort, the angry reply, but are instead greeted with the sight of Dave clenching his jaw tightly. You see the muscle in his face tic angrily before he turns; broad shoulders rolling as he pushes from your desk and rejoins the other Protective Agents.

What the fuck was that?

You frown at his back, confused before looking back down at the folder. Otis has excused himself as well, likely heading back down to his department. He won’t be needed for the meeting this morning. You feel Priya’s eyes on you and your tilt your head to face her.

“What?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Priya says with a concerned look on her beautiful face. “Him and his wife divorced last year.”

What the fuck? Since when?

For as long as you’ve known Dave York he has worn the same simple gold band on his left hand. You’ve even heard him talking about her in passing with other officers: Catherine or Carol? You know they’ve been married a while.

Since when is he divorced?

“What?” Your eyes blow wide at this, turning to your friend. “B-but he’s still wearing his ring!”

“Yeah,” Priya nods with a wince.

Fuck.

You don’t feel good about that. Dave is an asshole but you both know better than to get personal. You’ve never mentioned his wife until today and it turns out that was a good instinct on your part. Dave never mocks the fact that you go home every night to an empty apartment because even a goldfish was too much commitment for you, too much of a distraction from your work.

When the large group heads into the conference room you try to catch Dave’s eye and mouth an apology. But he’s already at the far side of the room with his agent buddies murmuring something and tapping away at his phone.

Mina stands at the podium waiting for everyone to take a seat and quiet down. Then she does and the briefing is similar to how it is most days lately. The assassin taking down members of parliament all over the world. The team doesn’t know if it’s an individual or an organization based on its sporadic movement.

“He’s targeting all higher profile members of senate across the globe,” Crawford says with a tired roll of her shoulders. “And from what I’ve seen they are extremely organized. Meticulous in knowing how far they can push without being caught.”

You scribble notes into your notebook while most of the group either types away on their phones or laptops. You’ve always found handwritten notes to be the best – they are less likely to be intercepted and written in your shorthand means that only you understand them.

You have a small code book included at the front, code names with numbers attached for people you work with. Priya is FFC0CB because she wears pink lipstick every Friday and that’s the hex code for pink. CG01 is Otis for his resemblance to a paler Crispin Glover. 00DH is Dave York and it stands for Double O Dick Head. You’d been particularly amused when you’d come up with that one.

You catch a pair of eyes on you and glance up down the table to see Dave watching your frenzied writing before giving the smallest shake of his head before he looks back at Mina.

“We’re putting together a team,” Mina says and this makes your head jerk up. “No details as of yet but there will be extensive travel involved so please let that influence your dedication and decision.”

Priya shoots you a look, one that says how did you know? And you try to tamp down the smile building there. It pays to pay attention, that’s how. You watch the patterns, you listen to the important silences that come between what’s said and you watch the news religiously.

“Considering the details on this we encourage individuals from all departments to apply,” Mina says eyes sailing over the crowd. You feel your stomach tighten pleasurably. This is just what you wanted. You just know you’d be an asset on this division.

“Deadline to submit is this Friday at five. That’s all. Good luck.”

The group dissolves and you and Priya make your way back to your desks. You’re on cloud nine, already formatting your CV in your head. Priya is yammering on about something but all you can focus on for that morning is the thought that you are going to be going into the field. You’re sure of it.

Its somewhere after lunch when the earlier conversation with Dave suddenly creeps back into your mind. It makes you feel uncomfortable and distracted. You don’t enjoy being cruel, it’s not in your nature.

It’s this which takes you to the elevator and down two floors to the department Dave works for. You walk through the fairly empty space with ease, jealous at how quiet it is with most of the officers out on jobs or doing field work.

Dave’s office is at the far end of the department and you see the door is ajar which means he’s in. Part of you is relieved, the other half disappointed. You’d half been hoping the room would stand empty and you’d be able to scribble some sad excuse for a note by way of apology. Writing an email would never be an option – too many eyes surveying everything that goes in and out of the office communication hubs.

. Dave is sitting behind his desk with a folder sat in front of him. His dark eyes jot to you as you enter. Unlike you, Dave has an entire office. It’s not massive, but it’s enough. However where you would have taken advantage to brighten up the space, it seems Dave is content enough to leave it looking like an empty shoe box. No family photos line his desk, no colorful knick knacks that give any indication about his personality. Nothing. Just flat, and dark and intimidating like his gaze.

There are two other officers sitting in the chairs across from him and they chat quietly, something you shouldn’t be overhearing and so you give a short knock before stepping into his office. The conversation is immediately dead and they swivel to glance over at you.

“Hey Dave,” you say grimacing. “I just wanted to-“

“You have the Algeria notes yet?”

“No,” you say holding in an eye roll. How did he expect you to have that information so quickly? He’s staring at you now, a file opened on his desk that he closes when you enter more fully into the office. Suddenly you feel wrong-footed, unsure of how to broach what you wanted to say since he’s surrounded by the other agents. He tilts back in his chair, arms crossed. Any mirth he usually reserves for you is gone.

“What do you want then?”

“It’s just… uh,” you say, suddenly aware of all the eyes of the other Protective Officers on you and you falter. You don’t want to have this conversation in front of everyone. “Do you have a sec? To talk in private?”

Dave rights his chair before fixing you with a dark look.

“How about you stop flitting around from department to department distracting people from trying to do real work?” He says sharply, his dark eyes narrowed. “Pretty sure Google translate could do your job and it would be a helluva lot less annoying.”

The other agents sitting near Dave exchange uncomfortable looks as you blink back at him. Irritation floods you, searing heat down the center of your chest. As he continues to glare at you there is the unmistakable sensation of your teeth grinding together angrily.

“You know what York? You can get Priya to do your translating from now on,” you spit, turning from him and heading into the empty hallway. Your cheeks are burning and you feet a pit in your stomach opening up.

Fuck you hate Dave sometimes.

You make your way to the elevator almost spitting. You wish for nothing more than to scrub Dave York from the face of the planet.

“Hey.”

Dave’s voice is a low rumble behind you. You can feel the warmth of his body inches from your back. But you pretend you haven’t heard him. The two of you load onto the elevator.

“Priya doesn’t speak Arabic,” Dave tells you like you’re not already very aware.

You continue to turn from him, not bothering to engage. You don’t have time to fight with Dave, you need to remember the name of your basic training officer to see if he’ll give you a letter of recommendation.

“You better be nice to me, Parker,” Dave says airily when you don’t reply. “Since everyone knows I’m going to be chosen for the mission.”

“You’re not going to be chosen for this one,” you snipe back at him, thankful there’s no one else in the confines of the elevator to witness how petulant you sound. “You have to be a team player for that. Everyone knows you like to fly solo.”

“Maybe I’ve changed,” he taunts, large eyes fixed on the rising numbers glowing above the buttons. “And besides, who do you think Crawford likes better? Me; the decorated field officer? Or you, the Language Officer with too many yellow sweaters?”

You want to snap back at him but you have a moment of concern at his words. You’d never considered this entire thing would be a popularity contest. Dave gets way more face-to-face with Mina than you ever will just by virtue of his job.

And hey, what the fuck? You like your yellow sweaters. In a job that can be dull or depressing having a color like yellow popping around the office makes you happy. It makes you wish more of the officers stopped dressed in drab neutrals.

Without warning your hand reaches out, slapping the emergency stop button. The elevator jerks to a halt with Dave eyeing you from across the small space. He’s a trained officer and you wonder if his instinct to pull a gun is kicking in when you see his fingers twitch at his side.

“I’m tired of you calling me Parker and making fun of my sweaters and my job and everything else,” you snap.

“I’m tired of you pretending like you’re better than everyone in the entire operations department because you can speak a handful of languages.”

“More than a handful,” you bite back, offended. “I’m a goddam polyglot.”

“How amazing for you,” Dave replies dryly. He crosses his muscled arms over his broad chest and you can’t help but observe how wide his shoulders are when they strain under his suit jacket. He fixes you with a look halfway between irritation and amusement.

Everything with Dave is a game of chicken; who will get closest without giving up? He does the same thing with inter office politics, pushing you past your limit until you run off with your tail between your legs, just like earlier in his office.

“I want to make a deal.”

Dave’s interested in this immediately indicated by the small curl of his mouth. “Go on.”

“If I get chosen for this elite squad you need to stop calling me Parker,” you tell him. “You leave off about my clothes and you start treating me with respect.”

“I do respect you,” Dave insists, brows furrowed. “You think I’d let anyone else do my translations?”

“You just said Google Translate would do a better job than me in a room full of other officers.”

Dave gives a crooked smile and a careless half shrug. “Was a joke.”

“Wasn’t funny.”

You bite the inside of your cheek when you feel your eyes getting glossy. You don’t want him to mistake your angry tears for sad ones. It’ll make you look weak when in reality it’s your barely contained rage that boils over, making your face hot and your eyes misty.

Dave’s smile dims and he gives a nod. “Yeah. Fair. Sorry.”

The apology is new though, that’s a nice manipulative touch on his part.

You don’t say anything more, and even though you want to apologize for the joke about his wife something in your stubborn attitude forbids it. Makes it impossible to apologize to Dave’s smug face staring at you.

“Everything okay in there?”

It’s the elevator repair team. Dave gives you a look with a raised brow, almost like he’s letting you know that you’re inconveniencing a lot of people today, not just him. You shoulder past him, getting closer to the speakerbox.

“Sorry about that,” you say into it. “I hit the button by accident. All good here.”

The elevator starts up again and the two of you lapse into silence. Soon enough you’re at the right floor and you prepare to exit, your mind still stuck on how to get an edge over your competition when all you have is a CV.

“So what do I get if I win, Parker?” Dave asks, dark eyes scanning your face with bemusement clearly written there. “What if I’m chosen for the team?”

“We don’t need to worry about that,” you say as the elevator dings to a stop. “You won’t be.”

“If I win you get rid of those ridiculous rubber ducks on your desk,” Dave insists watching you exit the elevator. “And you have to do all my translations without complaint for an entire year. Even the boring shit your department makes the grunts do.”

You frown at the possibility of doing all of Dave’s interpretations and translations. That could easily pile up and make your long days even longer. But there is a challenge in his eyes, one that you find you can’t back down from. So as the elevators slowly close on his smirking face you nod.

“Fine. Deal.”

TAG LIST: @morallyinept @yorksgirl @drewharrisonwriter @missladym1981 @lovelvyxxx @getitoutofmymind @mountainsandmayhem @mellymbee @stevie75 @@sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @sptbear @madnessofadaydreamer @@lola8888673 @angiewatson @kennysbellbottoms @survivingandenduring @pastawench

#dave york fanfiction #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york smut #dave york x female reader #rom com #romantic comedy #the hating game #enemies to lovers #Window Dressing #Valentine #Happy Valentines #valentines gifts

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veeluvss · 4 months

Text

✮⋆˙ Missing you this christmas

Day 9 of 12 days this christmas!

JJ x reader

1445

You and JJ are both grieving at christmas

TW: mentions a dead mum and roslyn

Ever since she died, Christmas hadn’t been the same. The hole in your chest seemed to get bigger every year and this year was the fifth year without her. Five years of opening your christmas presents without her smiling eyes watching you. Five years of having to make the Christmas dinner yourself, without the master chef’s help. Five years of not looking everywhere to find the perfect gift. Five years of not hearing her roaring laughter over the Monopoly board. Five years of not kissing your mum goodnight at the end of the festive filled day. It hurt.

Letting the hot water pierce your back, you collapsed to your knees in the shower. You clutched at your stomach, feeling sick with emotional pain. All you wanted was her. All you needed was her. Your mum. You felt so devoid of all emotion yet so full at the same time. Your body physically hurt from the grief you felt coursing through your veins. Vomit built up at the back of your throat as the weight of your heavy, yet empty, heart grew heavier. This was the one pain, you never, ever wanted to experience. No tears came but your mouth opened in a strangled scream.

JJ lay in bed, scrolling on her phone, feeling her own emptiness creep up at her when she heard you begin to sob. She looked over at the closed bathroom door. Exhaustion made her body heavy. She pulled her legs up to her chest and listened to the shower hum, occasionally, she winced at your cries. She couldn’t comfort you. Her arms wished they were around your trembling body but they felt dead against the bed sheets. Each finger, each knuckle, each nail, was heavy. Heavy with longing for her sister.

Losing her sister as a child, a child who was always so excited for Christmas and the holiday season, ruined all the magic. She no longer felt joy when the christmas lights came up. She didn’t feel the warmth as the music flooded the room. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. Not without Ros.

An hour later, you emerged from the bathroom. Despite the constant washing away of tears from the hot shower, your face was still blotchy and red. You tried to hide it, keeping your head down and letting your wet, unwashed hair fall in front of your face. You sat on the edge of the bed, the white towel clung to your dripping body. JJ wasn’t yet asleep; she couldn’t sleep. Without some sort of comfort from you, she felt devoid of a soul. No words were shared as she shuffled closer to you. Still laying down, her arm snaked around you and her fingers drew soft lines on the edge of your thigh, along the slight slit of exposed skin.

You sniffled and turned your head to look in to her eyes. Hers were red from tears, making the blue pop more. Your eyes softened taking them in. You lifted an arm and put it around her, turning so you were facing her properly. She put her head on your thigh, cuddling into your stomach and the towel and you sighed. You didn’t have the strength to say the words to comfort her. You didn’t have the energy but your body was enough. Your touch was enough.

She broke down. Sobs escaped her and her shoulders heaved. Her knees came to her chest and she went to move away but you held her tighter. Your fingers embedded themselves in her hair. Her head shook as her body was racked with grief. You let your own tears fall again.

Neither of you said a word for the rest of the night, or the next morning. You didn’t need to. Emotions were shared in a single glance, ideas or suggestions were communicated telepathically. And that’s what you loved about JJ.

You lay in her arms, between her legs, holding her hands - on the sofa. Two bodies had become one under the duvet you’d dragged from the bed. Neither of you had the energy to go back to bed so you brought the bed with you. Cheesy christmas movies played quietly in the background but you were both so emerged in your own thoughts and each other you didn’t even notice the scenes fade to credits fading to black.

“Do you ever think about where they are now?” JJ asked. Her voice was coarse from days of crying and not speaking. You tilted your head back, your weight shifting. You looked at her as she stared off to the picture on the wall. Her and Roslyn. The photo was the epitome of childhood innocence. Two kids, dressed in their best Sunday church clothes, stopping just above the muddy knees. Their sugar covered hands held up to the camera with smiles as wide as they ever could be. “Do you ever wonder whether they really are watching over us? Walking along side us?”

“I think about it all the time,” you replied. You squeezed her hands and buried your head deeper into her neck. “I think about them together.”

“Decorating the christmas tree,” she whispered. The arm around your waist tightened and you moved slightly closer.

“Baking sugar cookies with her famous recipe,” you replied.

“Dancing to all the christmas songs.”

“They’d get live shows from George Michael himself,” you giggled, remembering how your mum used to sing Last Christmas, rmeinding you not to let a man steal your heart.

“Fairytale of New York was Ros’s favourite.” JJ said.

“Mum loved that one too.”

“They’d love each other.”

“So much.”

You didn’t know what time you fell asleep but you woke to music playing softly from the kitchen. JJ wasn’t with you on the sofa. You stretched out and up, the warm duvet fell off your shoulders and thumped onto your legs. You heard more noises from the kitchen and threw off the covers completely. Your tired feet hit the cold ground and a shiver went up your spine. You grabbed the smaller blanket, the one which your mum made for you when you went off to college and headed into the kitchen.

JJ’s hips were swaying softly to White Christmas. She stood at the counter. Her hair was up in a pony tail and she wore fresh clothes. The kitchen had been cleaned, the take out boxes removed, the cups and plates washed and everything had a fresh shine to it. A baking tray, covered in baking paper sat on the counter by the oven and you could see a sliver of silver past JJ. She was making cookies.

She turned, smiling wide. It didn’t reach her eyes the same but it made you smile. It sparked a gentle fire back up in the pit of your stomach and you smiled back slightly.

“I found your mum’s recipe,” she said. She handed you the christmas card the pair of you had received the year she died. It had two robins on the front, with scarfs and hats and said ‘to my beautiful daughter and her wife this christmas’ on the front. Inside, she’d addressed it to you both and written her sugar cookie recipe down - the secret one. The one that everyone in the family dreamed of having but only you got the privilege to have. She wrote the cards, knowing her time was coming to an end - it was one of your most prized possessions.

“So I’m making cookies. Is that okay?” You realised you hadn’t answered when she spoke again. You looked up at her with teary eyes and nodded. She walked around the counter and kissed your head. Gently, she removed the blanket from your shoulders and folded it up. She put it on the side and took hold of your hand, pulling you into her arms as another christmas song came on. She turned up the volume but your eyes didn’t leave hers.

“I know this time of year is hard,” she said. She pulled you closer to her, a strong hand resting on your lower back. “But I won’t let the grief and the loneliness consume us. Roslyn and your mum wouldn’t want that. They can bake their cookies in heaven, dance at their concerts and maybe your mum can teach Ros how to finally wrap a present properly but we can make our own party down here on Earth. It doesn’t have to be about missing them, it can be about remembering them and celebrating them too.” You smiled at her little speech, at her kindness and overall love for the universe and for you.

“We’ll always miss people at Christmas but I think as long as we have each other,” she whispered, pausing her dancing and letting her lips linger near yours. “We’ll be okay.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau head canons #jennifer jareau imagine #jennifer jareau x reader #jj au #jj x sister #jj x reader #reader insert #12 days of christmas

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whumpsoda · 21 days

Note

Rate the name "Peepeepoopoo"

JUST KIDDING HAHAHAHAHA

Joke's aside... how about a whump prompt?

Caretaker finds Whumpee months after they had a fight. Caretaker hugs Whumpee, relieved that they finally found them and apologized to them for saying all the nasty stuff to them.

Whumpee just looks at them, confusion etched on their face.

"Who are you...?"

-- @whumperofworlds

10/10 name, would name my kid that!

Here’s a drabble!!! Trying to actually work on my inbox… I hope you like it! Sorry it took so long :3

cw: amnesia/memory loss, implication of past abuse

———————————————————————

“Who are you?!”

Caretaker recoiled, hands flying off of her once closest friend. At least, that was a good amount of months ago, anyway. Now he was shouting at her in the street as soon as she had tried to embrace him. For a second, like a fool, she had thought it could’ve been just like old times. For a moment.

“Whumpee, it’s…” Was he still angry? Did he not recognize her? Nervously, she chuckled. “Oh! I guess I did change my hair, and we haven’t seen each other in forever, but-!”

Baring his teeth and taking an offensive position, he growled. “Who? Are. You.”

Brows furrowed, she reached out to place a hand to his shoulder. It was only her. Why was he being so hostile? There was no reason for him to be so terrified of her. “Whumpee, hey. It’s me, it’s just Caretaker.”

“Hey! Off!” He hollered, swiftly and harshly slapping away her arm. For a moment, Caretaker just watched him jump back with a stunned expression.

Seemingly, he surely was still upset with her. And she was just an idiot for even thinking things could’ve just gone back to normal.

“S- sorry.” She whispered, taking a step away.

Whumpee’s face was flushed red with a sour concoction of anger, confusion, and embarrassment. “I don’t…” he stood almost hunched over, hiding himself inside of a hoodie five times too big, when she clearly remembered always seen him stand so tall. So bright. Like now he didn’t want to be seen. “How do you know me?”

Something was off. Something was very off.

Her mind was spinning in circles with puzzlement, desperate to get a grasp on the situation. “Whumpee… what’s wrong? Is something wrong…? I don’t understand-” Yet again she had made the mistake of unconsciously moving closer, an action he obviously didn’t take kindly to.

“Don’t come any closer! Stay back!” Whumpee sloppily swiped something from his pocket, holding it out as a means of a weapon. Unfortunately for him it was a mere credit card, but Caretaker positioned her hands above her head, anyway. Anything to make him feel a bit safer, maybe even trust her more.

“Okay, okay. I’m not gonna hurt you, y’know. It’s Caretaker.” She chose her words carefully, ever so slowly speaking. Not taking a single movement that may put him more on edge.

“Are you…” Eyes wide and limbs jittery, distressfully trying to keep up his aggressive facade, Whumpee’s voice dropped to no more than a murmur. “Are you one of… one of Master’s friends?”

Master?

Caretaker’s stomach churned as soon as he spoke such a title, overcome with shock and disgust.

For a moment, as her expression twisted with horror, Caretaker took the time to look at him. To really look at him. To take notice of his bundled up frame on a humid day, to note his greasy, sweat dripping hair that contradicted his usually strict ideology against allowing himself to go unwashed, and the rich, raw marks of cracking red that circled his throat. She’d never seen him so disheveled.

“Master? Whumpee, what are you talking about-”

“Who is Whumpee?! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He was howling again, still pointing the useless object toward her with an iron grip, and most passersby were watching with unease and fascination.

Whumpee’s passion was only getting his former friend riled up as well. “You-!”

“Stay. Back.” He snarled, fiery rage flashing in his eye. From that alone she could just tell that he’d been through something Caretaker would never know the severity of. Something that broke the gates of his soft kindness, shriveling him into the trembling, vicious man she was faced with.

“What… happened to you?”

He swallowed, and for a beat his face softened. “I…”

“I mean… Whumpee,” she huffed a bitter chuckle, carefully and slowly outstretching her hand. This time, he didn’t reject it. “Where have you been, all this time?”

#asks :)#Whumper of worlds #writing #my writing #my drabbles #drabble #whump writing #whump drabble #whump #whumpblr #amnesia whump #Amnesia

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din-miller · 6 months

Text

Safe and Sound

Pairing: Tech x gender neutral reader

Word count: 460

Summary: Comfortember day one: safe

Warnings: mentions of vomit but not graphic, reader gets taken by imperial guards, crosshair is with the batch, hurt/comfort, married couple, angst with a happy ending

A/N: help, it’s November 3rd and I just found out about Comfortember. I’m not sure how many I’ll be able to pump out, especially since I’m trying to do domestic december and have twenty wips collecting dust in google docs. I wrote this on the second so it’s still technically by birthday right now. This is my gift to myself. Divider by @saradika

Safe

Four letters, one word whispered in your ear as arms wrapped around you from behind, keeping you close as you sat on the dark cell-block's floor.

You’re safe

You’re okay

I got you

Words whispered again and again, like he’s waiting for you to believe him and you can’t blame him. For the longest time you weren’t safe, you weren’t okay; you were alone. For days, weeks – a full month, Tech informed you, his voice full of raw emotion, nothing like the monotone you’ve come to love.

He doesn’t let go of you, doesn’t care that your hair is unwashed. That your skin is caked with dirt, dried vomit, snot and all kinds of gross stuff and has been for longer than you’re fully able to comprehend at the moment. Tech, your riduur, simply doesn’t bat an eyelash as his lips pressed against your sweaty temple.

“Tech?” You finally managed to find your voice, wincing at the dryness of your throat as you force yourself to speak, “Is everyone okay? Did everyone make it out?”

Your body is pulled back further into Tech’s embrace, a canteen of water pressed against your lips and he slowly urges you to drink a few sips. Once the water was set aside Tech jaw clenched audibly and answered, “You turned yourself in to imperial guards. I understand they were going to kill innocent civilians if you hadn’t, but if you had told us, comm’d us, we would have found another way, cyar’ika. You were gone for five weeks. None of us are okay.”

“I’m sorry,” You choked out an apology, even though you know none of this was truly your fault. It’s the Empire’s, you know that, but that doesn’t stop the tears from rolling down your face, “Maker, I’m so sorry-,”

“Shh,” Tech soothed, hands rubbing up and down your arms, bringing warmth to your body. You hadn’t realised how cold you are until now. You tucked your face into the crook of his neck, “It’s all going to be okay, cyar’ika. Wrecker and Hunter are clearing us a path out of here and Echo has the medbay ready for our arrival. You’re safe, we’re going home.”

Later that night, tucked against Tech’s side, you’ll finally breathe out in relief, safely surrounded by your riduur and kin. For the next few weeks to come you’ll constantly be shadowed by one of the Batch.

Omega and Wrecker will make sure you have a never-ending supply of mantell mix. Echo will make sure every meal you have is homemade, smacking away any hands that try to steal your food. Hunter and Crosshair will be just plain insufferable.

It’ll feel like too much at times but it’s all a reminder that you are safe.

#tech x reader #married couple | the bad batch #the bad batch #justice joy writes #tech x gender neutral reader #tbb tech #tbb fanfiction #comfortember

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seoksgrl · 3 months

Text

happier than ever, 2. : knj namjoon x reader friends to strangers to lovers

tws: alcohol addiction, vomiting, grief, mention of death and terminal illness

m.list prev | next

Waking up is the same as it always is these days, head weighed down with the fogginess of the night before, the withdrawal kicking in after hours of unconsciousness. You call it that, nowadays, because what you experience doesn’t really constitute sleep anymore. You used to have dreams, wake up in the middle of the night needing to pee or simply waking from the sunlight beginning its slow descent across the scope of your room.

Nowadays, you pass out and stay in the same position for hours on end, no dreaming and, usually, no waking up until the light in your room forces you to. You’ve had more than a few occasions where your body has been so sedated by the alcohol in your system that you haven’t even woken up to pee. Simply relieving yourself in your sleep just like you did when you were a three year old. It would humiliate you if you allowed yourself to dwell on anything in the last few years; now you have the luxury of blocking it all out.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you fight the initial dizziness that comes with your hangover, though it’s always worse than anything you experienced when alcohol was just a treat on the weekends. Now, you drink not only to escape the hurricane of emotions that threaten to drown you when you think too long, but also to get rid of the mind-numbing, persistent symptoms of alcohol withdrawal. One foot in front of the other, you stumble to your old armoire, tugging open the door and ignoring the bundled up clothes that fall out, forgotten and unwashed. At the bottom is your stash, not that you really need to hide the glass bottles of clear liquor anymore. Now you’re all alone in the world, you don’t have the risk of anyone snatching away your vodka before you can remedy your headache with some good, old hair of the dog.

The liquor burns as it glides down your throat, hitting the pit of your empty stomach before it blooms in warmth. After a few seconds, you almost start to feel numb again - perfection.

Wiping the sleep and leftover makeup from your eyes, you finally glance around the room you have slept in since you were five years old. There’s a bolt of something akin to panic that rushes through you when you spot the space where your empty liquor bottles used to take residence on your bedside table, vacant. You, of course, don’t remember much of the night before, or really the last few weeks or months, but you can’t imagine you would do something so out of character as to use your drunken stupor to do some spring cleaning.

It’s after the second swig of vodka that the smell drifts into the room, toast and eggs it seems like. It’s so familiar, so warm and sunny that you screw your eyes closed, swallowing a few more burning gulps of the liquor to shoo away this awful hallucination. It’s cruel, that the universe would do this to you, remind you of the lightness of your old life. But it doesn’t go away, the scent of food continues to waft from downstairs, along with the sounds of someone moving plates and cutlery around, and you almost freeze, wondering if you brought home a guy last night, an unexpected gentleman willing to cook you breakfast after a night of what you can only assume was lacklustre, drunken sex as you peer down at your outfit - a large, ratty t-shirt and underwear.

You even managed to get changed last night? Nothing seems to be adding up. But your stomach is growling, and after a drink, you’re sure you’ll be able to suffer through a stilted conversation with your friendly one-night-stand before you unceremoniously kick him out. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The old stairs creak as you pad down, barefoot and still pantless. The liquor bottle abandoned on your nightstand where you can go back to it later if you run out of the whiskey you keep in the kitchen. You’re feeling like an irish coffee might be the ideal accompaniment to this awkward breakfast.

When you get to the bottom step, your stomach is growling, but your mind is beginning to cloud over with that familiar haze you’ve grown comfortable in, the vodka finally doing its job as your headache fades just a little. You shuffle quietly into the kitchen, eyes flitting up to see what kind of guy you dragged home with you last night before you stop in your tracks, your body icing over as the man in question glances up, eyes flicking to your legs for no less than a heartbeat before he’s looking right at you.

“Oh, good,” Namjoon says, “you’re up. I got you some painkillers,”

The universe is clearly playing some kind of cruel joke on you, to conjure up this image of this man standing in your kitchen, cooking breakfast on a frying pan you can only assume he must have washed. God knows you haven’t cleaned in months.

Kim Namjoon can’t possibly be standing in the kitchen of your childhood home right now, filling up the space with a body that is far thicker and more sculpted than you remember. He looks older, but in a good way, faint crinkles at the corner of his eyes as he squints over to you, quirking a brow as if he can't understand why you’re still standing there.

“Wh - “

“Why are you here, Namjoon?” You wish your voice sounded a little stronger, slurriness coating your words accompanying the breathless in which you ask the question. You are supposed to be angry, you’ve pictured a moment similar to this thousands of times, and each time you tore into him, inspiring even an ounce of the hurt and pain you’ve endured over the last few years would be enough to satisfy you. You hate him, and you hate that you don’t hate him nearly as much as you want to.

He dusts off his hands, wiping them on the back of his jeans, “I figured you might not remember,”

“Remember what?” You ask, a sharp spike of something spearing your stomach, making you hot all over. God, you didn’t sleep together did you?

“I brought you home last night, Y/N,” He says, voice low and steady, the exact opposite of how you’re feeling right now, swaying where you stand when his brows narrow and his lips part, “Are you still drunk?”

You can’t do this right now, you can’t have this conversation with him. Especially not him.

Namjoon always had a knack for seeing right through your bullshit, though back then, that meant calling you out when you tried to lie about whether you were in a mood or not, or calling you a liar when you hid your face in the sleeves of your sweater and told him you were yawning and not watching the slasher movie through the gaps in your fingers. You absolutely cannot talk to him about the clusterfuck that your life has turned into, not when you glance down at his wrist, spotting the rolex that does all it needs to remind you of the different paths your lives have taken.

He walks around the small kitchen island, his frame towering over you even as you try to appear unfazed. It’s impossible though, you’re swimming in that sweet, warm pool of numbness, and you are already uncoordinated, stumbling back a step when he reaches out to grab your elbow. His nostrils flare a little, a concerned notch forming between his brows.

“Have you had a drink already?”

Tugging from his hold, you step away, thankful that the wall stops you from falling flat on your ass. You duck around him, moving to the sink where you rinse your hands for no reason under the cool water, perhaps to soothe your overheated skin. You’re angry, and sad, and fucking drunk already, and you cannot do this with him right now.

“You should go. You don’t need to babysit me,”

Namjoon, you note with relief, doesn't follow you. He stays where he is, your positions in the kitchen swapped now as you wander over to the pan where the cooked eggs sit. Your mouth waters, but the second you’re reminded of Namjoon’s presence, your mouth fills with saliva as the nausea washes over you.

“Are you alone here?” Namjoon asks, as if he already knows the answer but wants to hear you confirm it, “Where is your mom?”

A scoff bursts free from your lips as you brace yourself on the counter, your back to Namjoon because you can’t possibly look at him right now. He makes you feel too much, always has, and the alcohol flooding your blood only makes it all the more unbearable.

“Dead,” You answer simply, relieved at the continued wave of numbness that swallows your chest. You haven't felt anything in years now, but your mother’s death a year ago certainly solidified the fucked up state of your life. Your post-break up binge drinking turned into constant drinking, and now looking back, you can’t remember the last time you went without. You feel sick all over again, already aware this is more than you can take. You’re not about to stand here reminiscing, “She died a year ago, some dumbass doctor didn’t find the tumour until it was too late. Now, it’s just me,”

Just you. Utterly, suffocatingly alone.

The nausea bubbles up your throat once more and you swallow it down, taking deep, shaky breaths to stave off the urge to vomit. The scent of the breakfast Namjoon made suddenly has your stomach rolling instead of growling, and the longer you sit in this deafening silence with him, the more you feel your control slipping. You need a drink, more vodka. Maybe you can find the whiskey somewhere in the mess of the kitchen, you just need -

Throat clenching, you stagger to the now empty sink, emptying your guts of the pitiful amount of food lingering in your stomach. When was the last time you ate anything? You don’t know - it’s not like you eat often nowadays, preferring to drink until your stomach sloshes, full and bloated, forgotten as you skip into unconsciousness.

Your bleary, watery gaze stares into the sink which is now filled with the contents of your stomach, your shoulders curling as you dry heave, bile burning your throat. The warmth of a hand rubbing your back is what you notice next, gasping against each empty gag. It feels too familiar, too good. It reminds you of your mother, and of Namjoon, and his warm, masculine scent drifts over you, overwhelming and a searingly painful reminder. His hands barely manage to smooth your unwashed hair from the nape of your neck before you push him away, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Leave me alone,” Your voice is hoarse, tears you can no longer shed clogging your throat, and you swallow down the acrid taste in your mouth, glaring at your former best friend, “I want you to go. I don’t want you here,”

He stares at you, unblinking, eerily silent as if he doesn’t know who he is looking at right now. Well, that’s his issue, his fault, you think. He left, you didn’t. You stayed here, waiting, foolishly hoping that he might come back. Come home, to you.

You learned the hard way from a young age that everyone leaves. Your father abandoning you and your mother before you were even born, it set the tone for your future. You’re just not the kind of person someone wants to stick around to watch, kind of like a car crash happening in slow motion. It's been that way forever, it feels like, and through it all, Namjoon had seemed like the only tether holding you above the waves, stopping you from going under. Your lighthouse in a storm.

But then he let go, left to move onto better things. And seeing him now, seeing him be just as successful as you always knew he would be doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Everyone leaves, it was foolish of you to believe he would be any different. That fact that he’s here now, thirteen years too late, staring at you with a bleak look of guilt proves your point. He made his choice back then, and you stopped waiting for him a long time ago.

“Y/N,” Is all he says, and the sound of your name in his voice, so much deeper, aged than when he left, it has a shiver running up your spine, “what happened?”

“I just told you. I’m an orphan now, and I can take care of myself,”

Debatable, even to you as you try to block out the reality of your pitiful existence, but you aren’t about to fall into Namjoon just for him to turn and walk out the door again. Maybe he stayed overnight, but that doesn’t mean much where you’re concerned. Men have done the same after a drunken fuck, but they always leave in the cold light of day, when they wake up and realise where they are, when they see what a mess you are. And you know Namjoon will too.

He doesn’t argue, slipping his hand into his jean pocket and placing a small scrap of paper on the kitchen counter. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of looking at it, even as you wonder, but he nods, stepping away as he keeps his eyes on you for a beat longer.

“I’m staying at Lunar Hotel, room four. You know where I am if you change your mind,”

“Don’t stick around on my account,” You say, watching as Namjoon winces at the venom in your words, “you can run back to Seoul for all I care,”

He doesn’t stick around for much longer, his jaw tight as he turns, doing exactly what you predicted and walking out the door. Watching his frame exit the house, closing the dusty glass door behind him, your eyes shift towards the threadbare couch big enough to sit two people at a push. Atop the cushions is a blanket and a couple of throw pillows.

You shake your head, reaching into the nearest cupboard and breathing a sigh of relief when you find the half-drunk bottle of whiskey. Namjoon’s reappearance makes you want to drain the bottle, but you settle on a quick sip before making an irish coffee. When you’re done, your hands tremble a little, but you shake it off, eyes snagging on the slip of paper on the counter.

Without Namjoon’s watchful gaze, you step towards it, scanning the quickly scrawled letters reading Primrose Rehab Centre. There’s a skip in your throat, your hand crumpling up the paper and throwing it at the wall where it falls to join two full rubbish bags. The threat of having your coping mechanism taken away has your heart beating fast, even as a voice in your head tempts you to wonder for a moment what life would be like if you weren’t so fucked up.

The reminder that Namjoon wouldn’t have deigned to stick around has your lips lifting in a sneer, and you grab the whiskey bottle by the neck, forgoing your coffee in favour of something stronger.

The burn of the liquor down your throat almost distracts you from the emptiness in your chest.

Namjoon can barely register his own name being called as he stares out the window at the road, only coming back to himself when a heavy hand rests on his shoulder.

“Hey, man, you good?” Jooheon asks, his face open, warm and welcoming. It seems aside from a few others, Jooheon is the only person actually happy to see him back in town.

Namjoon forces a smile on his face, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. It doesn’t feel real. How can it after the morning he’s had, watching you stagger into the kitchen, reeking of booze with a glaze in your eye that reminds him of how you were last night.

He thought you were having a bad night, the reunion and everything with Seokjin causing you to get a little drunk by the lake. When he managed to all but carry you into the home you grew up in, he could hardly believe what he was seeing, even in the dark. The house was dirty, a layer of dust on almost every surface, and he could barely breathe for the scent of stale booze and must. He knew as he settled you into bed, taking his place on the old sofa, that something was deeply wrong. He’d seen the bottles in your room, but perhaps there was still a part of him hoping for some explanation. One that didn’t take the ground from his feet and have his stomach plummeting when you confessed in that cold, empty voice that your mother died.

Namjoon remembers your mom, a sweet woman, fiercely protective of her daughter and endlessly supportive. Like his own mom, she raised you alone, and he couldn’t deny she did an amazing job. At least looking at the girl he left behind thirteen years ago - now, you’re lost. Empty, soulless eyes and the absence of the smile he always loved.

It makes him feel ill, and he is solely responsible. If he had been here, if he had known - he clenched his fist against the porcelain handle of his coffee cup.

Jooheon waits for his reply, and Namjoon clears his throat, “I went to see Y/N,”

Instantly Jooheon’s smile falters, his feet carrying him to the empty chair opposite Namjoon in the tiny eating area of the bed and breakfast. The decor is dated, a little worn, but Namjoon feels oddly at peace as he tries to come to terms with the reality of your situation.

“She’s had it rough, the last couple years,” Jooheon says, and Namjoon nods, now well aware of how bad you’ve had it, “When Juwon got sick, we tried to rally round, but you remember how Y/N’s mom was. She was a fighter, never wanted to accept help off anyone,”

Almost a mirror image of you, it seems, Namjoon thinks, swallowing hard. He looks to his former classmate, eager for any and all information.

“How long did it…”

He smiled sadly, “They found the cancer too late to really do anything. With Y/N losing the studio, as far as I’m aware they couldn’t cope with the hospital bills. Seokjin offered to help but Y/N refused,”

Namjoon can’t blame you. He’s sure if he was harbouring a broken heart, he wouldn’t accept help from the person who broke it either. He just wishes he’d known. But that’s his own damn fault, he reminds himself with a shake of his head.

He gets stuck on one piece of new info that Jooheon has given him.

“When did Y/N lose the studio? How did all this happen?” It seems like you had one tragedy after another, and all over again, the guilt eats at Namjoon like a virus.

Jooheon’s jaw clenches, his head shaking softly as he speaks, “Y/N was planning to move to a bigger city, to open an art studio there. Hold classes and stuff. Seokjin didn’t wanna leave town and so after he proposed, they stayed here. But, Namjoon,” his classmate speaks low, as if he doesn’t want to be overheard, despite the lack of people in the B&B, “this town is desolate. Barely anyone passes through here nowadays, not like when we were kids. The council in this town don’t appreciate change, and so everyone’s businesses have suffered, including Y/N’s,”

Seokjin’s selfish ass, Namjoon thinks, his lip curling. He would buy you any studio you want, in any city, but his rational mind knows throwing money at the problem isn’t gonna fix it. He pauses, dwelling on the events of last night, the anxiety he had listening out for even a hint that you might be choking on your own vomit. The thought makes him shiver, the idea of you alone in that house, rotting away and drinking until you pass out.

He can’t leave, even as his phone pings with the reminder to set off to the airport. He just can’t - he hasn’t even packed, almost like he knew the second he got back to the bed and breakfast that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Do you want me to check you out of your room?” Jooheon asks, but there’s a look in his eye that tells Namjoon he knows the answer he will give him.

“No,” He replies, “I’m gonna stick around for a while longer,”

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#namjoon angst #namjoon smut #namjoon fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon fic #namjoon scenario #purplearmynet

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sleazysquid · 2 years

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Black Acres- Gyutaro X Reader

Word count: 4.2k

Tags/warnings: Dark content, absolute pure filth, reader is female, mild-moderate gore/violence (mostly to set the scene so not sexual), very mild blood play, themes of breath play, noncon-dubcon at the end, throatfucking, light dumbification, facial, absolutely no prep for sex, creampie, and last but not least Gyutaro smells bad and has an unwashed uncut cock

Here you are. Running for your life as a demon terrorizes the little corner of your village. You have no idea why this is happening to you, why here, why now? You’ve heard the stories of these creatures roaming the night looking for flesh, looking for blood to tide them over for the next night, the next day, who knows. You’ve always done your best to be home before dark but tonight, oh such a wretched night, you had to run important errands and the day slipped by you way too fast. You’d put off grabbing groceries for too long, and you knew in some way it’d come to bite you in the ass; you just didn’t know how severe the repercussions would be.

You’ve ran a safe distance away from what looks to be a female demon with a belt so strong it almost looks like it vaporizes people in an instant. With a tight grip on your cloth bag of food, you’re desperately trying to weave in and out of the sea of people running every direction. Your home is just around this corner, away from the denser areas of the village. You just have to get there, you’re five minutes away tops.. right? You’re stricken with fear as you make the blatant observation that you’re nearing closer and closer to another demon. He’s emaciated looking with matted black and green hair, his hip bones protruding in an obscure manner. Even at your distance from him, he reeks to the high heavens, and bears bloody sickles that could easily glide through your body with no issue. You freeze in place for a moment, eyes widening in terror as you realize he’s moving towards you, decimating the crowd that once blanketed you to hide between. One by one, people around you drop, blood speckling your face and drenching your ankles.

You shift your feet to begin running away but your reflexes aren’t up to par at all, especially not compared to this malevolent spirit. There’s bodies that have piled around you that make it hard to maneuver around; but if you don’t get out of there fast, you might be the only target left to slaughter. Your legs feel an aching burn as your body pushes itself beyond its limits desperately trying to flee from this blood thirsty monster. It’s just your luck, as your heel digs into a corpse, causing you to trip and fall hard on the stone walkway. Your vision darkens momentarily before coming to, palms grinding into the stone attempting to pick yourself back up before ultimately being pushed back down with what feels like a foot to your back.

Your head rises, indecisive palms scrambling to either pick yourself up or drag you to temporary shelter. Once again, a force strikes you back down. You cock your head in an attempt to look back, but you’re met with the taunting tip of a weapon, more specifically, his sickle. He drags the weapon lightly across the back of your neck, pressing it in ever so slightly to draw blood. Just my luck, just my luck... with gritted teeth, the words repeat in your head as your last sermon. A large hand grips your scalp, almost engulfing your entire head, lifting up and forcing you to observe the fresh massacre in front of you. A warm, wet sensation pricks at your neck as he laps up the blood that lightly trickled down your neck. A shiver sparks up your spine, you instinctively bite your lip to curb the oncoming shriek would escape your lips. You resist giving him what he wants but he can very much feel you trembling in terror.

His light laughter bellows into a high pitched cackle as he lightly mounts you, sharp nails burrowing into your scalp.

“Take a good look around. You’re the only one left alive! That has to feel special, right?”

“Please...” you sob

“Please? Please what? Spare you?” He taunts with a shrill giggle; but a sinister thought, something he’s never quite tried before, possesses his mind, lips now hovering over shell of your ear “You know, I think I’ll hold onto that thought but first... I’ve never really gotten the chance to even be this close to such a pretty thing like you. At least, not in this way... All those years wandering the entertainment district with my sister... it gets tiring not being able to touch let alone look in such a woman’s direction.”

He rises to his feet, dragging you by the scalp to an all too convenient alleyway in between buildings that have yet to crumble. He slams your head back against the wall, earning a choked sob of pain from you as you’re confined between the wall and his skeletal hips. Tears that run hot down your face are now faintly wiped away by the callouses of his thumbs.

“Awwwh, don’t look so glum. I normally hate it when humans cry but I think you’ve won quite a lottery today, miss.” He coos, lightly pressing his groin against you.

He’s deceptively soft to you for the moment but it doesn’t last long when long bony fingers begin pinching and prodding at your cheek, forcing your mouth open for their entry as they snake their way past your teeth and glide along your tongue. You recoil and gag on the taste of his fingers alone, swatting his hand away.

“Gyutarooooo!! Come on, let’s get out of here!” A shrill female voice calls out.

There’s a shred of hope in you that maybe help is just around the corner, “Help!! Help me please! This... thing is gonna kill me!”

There’s a moment of pause between her reply and yours, “That better be your last victim or I’m leaving without you, brother.” The voice groans as you hear the click of her heels turn and walk away.

Your stomach drops when you come to the full realization that you’re entirely at this man’s mercy. You have no idea whether or not he’s going to keep his word, what he’ll do to you, if maybe he might take a few limbs and leave you to die. The possibilities weigh heavy on you, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You might not ever make it out of here. Your neighbors, everyone you made friends with here in this quiet little town, snuffed out in an instant by this vile monster who now has a name to his wretched face.

Your racing mind and sobbing hiccups come to a halt as Gyutaro’s skeletal hand swiftly wraps around your neck, nails digging harshly with the full intention of crushing your windpipe if he holds on for just a minute longer. The demon pulls you upward so that his sickly colored eyes pierce into your own, the dark blotches that litter his face contort with his expression as he hisses out, “I wouldn’t do that again if I were you. After all I just decided you might live if you play along.”

Play along? What exactly does he have planned for you? What kind of sick demonic games will he enact upon you? Your brain buzzes with more questions.

The lack of oxygen starts to blur your vision, it’s getting harder to breathe, a high pitch ringing drowns out his short monologue, weak hands clawing and pulling at his forearms in a desperate attempt for air. The very moment before you hit your limit, his grip softens, maneuvering to hold your jaw in place to steal a rough kiss that ends with a rough lap of foreign saliva that now coats your lips. With dazed eyes full of lust and a contorted smile, he plants harsh, skin-breaking bites down your neck; carefully suckling and kissing at any blood that escapes. The consistent mixture of pain and discomfort followed by light stokes of pleasure have you at a sore disadvantage as your carnal needs nag at you, sending any bit of dopamine it can scrounge up straight to your core. Gyutaro hungrily tugs off your garments and any remaining dignity you’ve had left up until this point.

Half-lidded irises drink up your form and the way the moonlight gives your skin a slight fuzzy glow. Gyutaro’s lips ghost from the nape of your neck all the way down to the top of your chest. His hands tremble when cupping your breasts, eagerly kneading both in a rough and lightly painful manner. A long, slender tongue slithers out of his mouth to lap harsh circles around the bud, earning goosebumps and hesitant gasps as your nails dig into your thighs to cope with such an intrusion. Slowly, Gyutaro introduces his teeth in conjunction to the light sucking, grazing lightly and getting bolder with an eventual teasing nibble; it’s enough to garner a light groan in response, you can feel as he smiles against your skin, yellow eyes looking straight up at you. It makes him melt to feel your body tremble and writhe against his clumsy touches, the look of conflicted fear is enough to encourage him to push further, to explore your body in more intrusive ways.

Gyutaro traces his lips from your torso all the way back up to meet yours. With a wavering hushed voice, he commands you, “Down on your knees.” Your eyes water as the haze of human flesh from his breath violates your sense of smell. You’re a quick learner, he’s come to find when you slide slowly down the grimy wall of the alleyway, maintaining eye contact. What’s life or death to you, is considered a cheap thrill to him. You have no idea whether or not he’s going to actually keep his word to you but if these are your last moments on earth, maybe you might as well get a little more comfortable with his presence; even if it’s just to ease the pain of everything by a minuscule amount. His loose fitting pants don’t give you any indication of how hard or endowed he actually is underneath.

There’s a moment of stillness where the both of you look at each other in desperation for such opposing reasons. Desire and survival intertwine and meet at the hem of his trousers; at the expense of gently pushing your head against the fabric, he savors this moment while he can. Your nostrils burn from the rotting stench of his natural decay as you attempt to pull your head away, but a strong clutch on your head keeps you pinned against his crotch, the fabric muffling your coughs and light groans as he lazily dry humps your face. The sense of pure humiliation lulls your mind into a dull-ish state, feeble efforts of attempting to break free of his grasp are useless. You’re relieved and met with fresh air as his efforts to tease himself prove to be boring. You’re now aware that these little moments of peace are nothing but the foreshadowing of something much more sinister. Gyutaro hooks at the trim of his garments and pulls down to reveal his cock. It lightly taps against his lower abdomen as it springs free, glistening and soaked with precum that doesn’t seem to stop beading down the long, uncut monstrous shaft.

The sheer size and width to it is enough to naturally widen your eyes and give off more of a panicked look to your face than you already had previously.

It makes you realize that any kind of sick fantasy he has planned for you isn’t going to be as easy as just zoning out and letting it happen. No, this’ll hurt. And you’ll remember this forever.

“Holy fuck..” a strange sentiment escapes your lips, you’re unsure how to handle this, but the gravity of the situation is going straight to your core and it causes you to rub your thighs together in a pathetic attempt to hide your arousal.

“You must be some kind of sick depraved whore because it sounds to me like you’re getting off on this too.” Gyutaro hisses as he taps his cockhead against your lips as you pathetically attempt to back further into the wall as if it would stop his advances.

“Ugh, come on, no! No that’s not it at all!” you rationalize, face ablaze with embarrassment, but his taunting persists, twisting into a deranged laugh that has your stomach in knots. But you know deep down, it fulfills a carnal part of you, something you can’t entirely control.

“You just can’t wait to taste my cock, you fucking tease! Well don’t worry, I won’t keep it from you any longer-“

With what little space you had to begin with, Gyutaro closes the gap with his protruding hip bones. The sensation alone makes his knees buckle, he sucks in air through his teeth and lets out a desperate “Aaaaah” as his cock fully bottoms out inside your mouth without any pause for adjustment. You can feel the corners of your mouth start to tear ever so slightly to accommodate for his girth, tears gather and roll down your hollowed out cheeks as you struggle to breathe through your nose. Gyutaro’s grip on your hair tightens when his hips roll, fucking into your mouth at a slow tempo that’s too much to keep up with. Your trembling hands push against his thighs in a weak act of rebellion but he seems to revel in it with the way he fucks your mouth harder with each light push or dig of your nails.

“Fuuuck… so this is how it feels,” Gyutaro pulls out of your mouth abruptly, causing you to cough and gasp for air.

“You know, I’ve been a bystander for way too long. I’ve seen what people get off to, how lucky they are to live such lives,” he hooks a finger around your bottom lip to pry your mouth open as he spits directly onto your tongue; your face recoils at the taste. “and you, a poor little human who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, too pretty to be eaten right away.”

“Right away?” You replied hesitantly, looking up at him.

“We don’t wanna spoil all the fun we’re having right now, do we?” He laughs, “I haven’t promised you shit!”

You look up at him with a burning scowl, you’re angry with the way he’s been toying at your life for the past hour or so. Hell, you’re not even sure how long you’ve actually been sitting here with gravel and rock stuck to your scraped up knees.

Gyutaro pushes your head lightly, tapping his bellend against the plush of your lips, lightly coating them in a sheen gloss of precum.

“Maybe you should think about being a little more enthusiastic and that’ll make me really change my mind”

“Yeah, like that’ll guarantee anything...” you scoff at his empty promises; your light act of rebellion turns his face sour as he forces his cock back into your mouth, leaving the both of you groaning for different reasons.

His fingers curl into your hair as he forces your head to bob up and down on his cock, saliva gathering at the corners of your mouth and dripping onto the stone pavement. He keeps you flush against his pelvis, your nose buried deep into his pubic hairs as he gives shallow thrusts. With Gyutaro’s cockhead creating a bulging effect, he wraps all five fingers around your throat, lightly squeezing down at the focal point. You start to sputter and cough around him, fingernails digging into his pelvic bone and pushing back for some kind of air intake, but he doesn’t let up, instead responding to your whines that vibrate his shaft with a light scoff and a giggle.

Your brows furrow, corners of your mouth burning red hot from the stretch of his length and you’re losing oxygen fast, making your eyes lightly roll upwards. The way he smiles down at you, mouth slightly agape, it makes your body react in some kind of fucked up manner, confusion mixing with your blurring sight as your mind is reduced to a blanked out state, slumping you backward as he continues to impale your mouth. You don’t break eye contact with him despite dizzying vision threatening to make you pass out; your pseudo-salvation comes in the form of Gyutaro whining out a desperate “fuuuuck” as white hot ropes of cum coat your throat.

He pulls out quickly, making sure to coat your face thoroughly. It tastes sour, feels hot to the touch, and insanely thick by the way it slithers down your face. You don’t feel like stirring his temper by spitting it out so you swallow as much of his load as you possibly can without throwing up, gathering and wiping off the rest from your defiled face. Gyutaro kneels down to your level in lazy attempts to get you cleaned off but you shoo his hand away.

“Come on, let me go or just kill me and get it over with. Don’t you think I’ve done enough already? I won’t tell anyone about this, I have no one to tell about what happened here, especially after you killed everybody in the entire village,” you plead, “nobody would even believe me anyway. You’ve done everything you’ve wanted to me, that’s gotta account for something, right?”

Gyutaro cups your face with his index finger and thumb on either side of your cheek and lightly squeezes, “You’re fighting so hard with me even when I’m the one showing you such kindness. Typical of pretty people like you, always so ungrateful even in the most dire situations,” He mopes sarcastically, “hey, I have an idea! I kinda like the ruined look on your face from just a minute ago, I say we’re gonna bring that back. After all, I wanna make the most out of that cute little body of yours.”

It seems like his refractory time is almost immediate as his cock is already hard again and ready for what he has planned next. Despite his emaciated stature his strength is able to rag doll you to the cold stone pavement before your body can even register what’s happening. Sharp hip bones jab at your legs forcing them to spread open, he looks down at your glistening cunt, a prize he’s so eager to take from you. He spends an uncomfortably long time staring at your bare body, indulging in every possible detail, it sends heat across your face as you struggle to cover yourself. He wants to remember this forever, he wants you to remember this forever. Gyutaro glides his thumb along your folds, grazing against your clit which earns him a light huff in return to his light teasing.

“I’m not really an expert when it comes to women, I’m sure that’s pretty obvious. But I know enough to be able to tell when a bitch is in heat.” He swipes his thumb across his tongue, lapping up the slick he’s gathered from you. He’s not wrong either, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s toying with your life, you might just enjoy how rough he’s been with you. With a steady hand on your hip, the latter guiding his heavy cock to your entrance, your heartbeat picks up a pitter-patter type beat as you brace yourself for impact. You try to calm yourself down to keep a relaxed state, maybe it won’t hurt as much if you did that, maybe it won’t be as bad as it was earlier, at least this time your oxygen won’t be cut off as far as you’re concerned.

The head breaches your entrance, there’s maybe a three to five second buffer before he completely sinks his entire cock into you with no warning. The both of you cry out in sync, tears trickling down your face. You’re too full, too stretched out, the pain is searing hot as your body desperately tries to accommodate to his massive size. You scoot yourself away like a caged animal struggling to rid of its binds but he pulls you halfway into his lap for easier access, fingers digging into each side of your hips, pinning you to the pavement that grinds against your welting back. Gyutaro’s nails draw blood, each thrust burrowing his claws deeper into the plush of your skin. It’s difficult for him to keep his composure with everything stimulating him at once. The sex, the scent of your sweet blood, and your soft voice whining begging him to stop is too much for him to handle. Saliva drips from his mouth and begins to pool at your stomach as it creeps across your body. It quells him into an animalistic state, his tempo doesn’t falter in the slightest, he barely unsheathes himself from you at all.

With the way he grinds into you, pelvis to pelvis, it provides some type of stimulation against your clit, gathering more instinctual whimpers to fall from your lips. The buildup of pressure is there, pooling into a tight coil in your lower abdomen. You opt to distract yourself with the moon above you as your only witness, daring to deny this monster the chance to earn any kind of orgasm from you. There’s no way you’re actually enjoying any of this. Not in this way, you think to yourself.

“Hey!-“ Gyutaro snaps at you, gripping your jaw in place, “fucking look at me! Don’t you dare take your eyes off me or I’ll slaughter you exactly as you are,” You nod frantically, “say it. Say you understand.”

“Yes, I understand.. Gyutaro.”

You keep your word and lock eyes with him no matter how much it hurts to do so, he studies your facial expressions, what makes you wince but most importantly, he takes notice to what forces your body to give into the light trickles of pleasure. He experiments a little, going slower, going harder, but it’s when he rocks himself flush against you that he finds does the trick. The hand that once cradled your neck in place trails softly down your body, lightly dragging his nails along. He shifts his focus downward as his hands meet at your lower abdomen, he’s hesitant at first, lightly running his thumb clumsily against your clit.

“It’s right… here, isn’t it?”

Your face heats up, “Why would I tell—“ you sigh, “-yes. It is.”

A sly smile spreads across his face, “good girl.” He whispers breathlessly. Gyutaro’s ministrations start off slow and uncoordinated, it has your mind buzzing one moment and disrupted a second later; he looks frustrated, completely pathetic, and you feel sorry for him in a way. With a heavy sigh, you take the lead by guiding his thumb to just the right amount of pressure and cadence. The smile returns, mimicking the patterns you set for him to near perfection, you shiver at the attention, tension building up at a steady momentum that feels no longer forced, but strangely needed. Your breath quickens, brows furrow upward as your body starts to tense up at the stimulation.

“K-keep doing that— oh fuck!” You keen, basking in the rolling waves of your first orgasm of the night.

Gyutaro falters for a moment, catching his breath and stilling his movement. You whine at the sudden lack of stimulation as his hands lift your legs up further and further until your knees bump lightly against your chest. You feel so much more full than you did before, his cock reaching deeper inside you, bullying its way right against your g-spot. His moans are drawn out and exaggerated, his hips keep a grueling pace for the both of you as it sends shockwaves straight through your body, building up tension in your lower abdomen and washing over you. Your nails drag down his spine and ghost back up to grip his matted hair. Your whines grow louder and louder, you’re much more attuned to his body, much more accepting than at the start of the night.

“Two spots then, huh? Some people just get all the luck I guess” he teases before his lips crash into yours.

You’re a whimpering mess, moaning into his mouth as he fucks you through your second climax, one that proves to be much more intense than earlier. It leaves you writhing underneath him, your walls pulsing and as he unravels along with you. The spent demon is reluctant to pull out, but rather he spends the next couple of minutes collapsed over your form. It’s not enough to crush you, per se, not that he really could but his bony figure jabs at you with the rise and fall of your breathing combined. You know it’s not something he can help, so you ignore it as best as you can.

Small, delicate pecks are planted on the scabbed over lacerations he caused earlier, a lazy attempt at an apology to the pain and humiliation from earlier. You lightly tug at his head to pull him off your neck. Your fucked out expression meet his sickened love drunk irises as you pull him in for a final kiss. His tongue lathes over yours hungrily, the taste of iron and flesh begrudgingly accustomed to your palette.

“I… I think I love you.” he sighs breathlessly. You’re mortified at your reaction to this whole ordeal. The way you sank into his demands so easily, letting emotions blossom within you despite how much he terrorized you earlier. It’s obvious how painfully lonely he is, maybe you could offer him some comfort. A kind of delirious love. Maybe… you could get used to this.

“I-I think I might just love you too.”

#tw.darkcontent #gyutaro x reader #demon slayer #gyutaro #gyutaro x you #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu gyutaro #tw.creampie #tw.dubcon #tw.smut #tw. noncon

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ilikemicrowaves · 10 months

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@bloogers-boogers I'm really shy about posting this but hi

It Meant Nothing

"Hey guys, heard of gay chicken?" Asked Kenny muffled through his coat.

"The fuck is gay chicken?" Asked Stan

"I think It's where we take turns kissing each other, and the last to chicken out wins." Said Kyle.

"Oh no way, I am not kissing a dirty jew."

Said Cartman.

"And I'm not kissing a fatass either."

Retorted Kyle.

Stan and Kenny looked at each other, smirks on their faces.

"20 bucks." Said Kenny.

"We can split it." Stan whispered to Kenny.

"We are not-"

"Make it 25." Cut in Cartman.

"Deal." Agreed Kenny.

"But! We are doing it last." Said Kyle

"Fine I'll go first." Said Cartman.

He waited for Stan or Kenny to come forward.

"Pull down your hood poor boy." He said.

"My lucky day." Kenny joked.

He reached up and slide it away from his unwashed face. His hair was dirty and sweaty even though it was snowing.

"Ready to taste the rainbow?"

"Shut up."

Cartman pulled him in quick and kissed.

Kenny couldn't help but giggle a little as he let go. He coverd his mouth smiling and said, "that was so gay."

"Who's gonna kiss who next?" Asked Stan.

"Who ever is brave enough." Said Kenny.

"I'll do it," said Kyle. "I'm not backing down to a stupid kiss."

"Stan come here."

Stan backed away as Kyle reached for him.

"Stan, already?" Asked Kenny

"But, Wendy-"

"Uh oh, someone's a pussy." Said Cartman

"She's not here, it'll mean nothing anyway." Reassured Kyle.

"Are you sure, because she's already mad at me for-"

"No, no, no, Stan's right, the she-hippie can't handle a little bromance." Cartman teased.

"Shut up, fatass!" Yelled Kyle.

"Come on Stan, your not going to listen to Cartman are you?"

Stan looked at the ground for a minute, eyes tracing the cracks in the concrete.

"I'm sorry Kyle, me and Wendy already have enough problems right now. I'm chickening out." Stan backed away, Kyle disappointed. << gay?🤨

"Pucker up, pretty boy." Kenny said taking off his hood once again.

"I am not loosing this stupid game." Kyle said.

Before Kyle could kiss him Kenny backed away and started laughing.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry! I can't help it." He said between laughs.

"Let's just get it over with,"

They leaned in again but just as there lips touched, Kenny snorted and kept giggling like a girl at a sleepover.

"Omg, kiss already!" Cartman held his head in his hands

"What, so you can kiss me next?" Teased Kyle.

"I will kick your ass!"

Kenny grabbed Kyle's shirt and pulled him in for a smooch.

"Yall are so slow." Commented Stan.

"At least I didn't chicken out." Said Kenny.

"Alright, now the fun really begins." Kenny put his hands together as Stan pulled a twenty and a five out his wallet.

"Godammit Kyle, why couldn't you've chickened out!"complained Cartman

"I'm not losing this because kisses don't mean anything." Kyle said, "Plus I owe Ike money so come here."

Kyle grabbed for him but Cartman jerked away. "Oh and don't forget Kyle, I can use this as blackmail."

Kyle stopped for a minute, "So, you don't want the money?" He asked.

"You God damn jew, of course I want the money!" He said. "But just for the record, I'm going to tell all the girls you kissed me. He got close and quiet at the last part, he knew that would tick Kyle off.

"No,"

"What?"

"I'm not going to kiss you Cartman," he said determinedly. "You'll just have to kiss me."

"Now it's getting somewhere," said Stan

"To be honest, now I want them to kiss." Added Kenny.

"Wa-why me!?" He yelped

"Seems like you wanna kiss me so bad."

"No, you have to kiss me!"

Kyle tried not to smile to keep the affect going, but the corners of his mouth couldn't help but twitch a little.

"Who's the pussy now?" He said with an eyerole.

"Pussy? Your the one to scared to make the first move." He said dramatically.

"I'm the pussy?" Giggled Kyle.

"Well, first your a jew, second, I'm gonna tell all the girls you kissed me, and third-"

"Is jew the only insault you have for me?" He asked, his cheeks flame red.

"Your still a pussy-"

Kyle grabbed Cartmans face and pulled him into a kiss. He squinted his eyes shut, but for Cartman it was the complete opposite. Kyle didn't let go for a second, all of their emotions where entwined in that very moment. Kenny and Stan gasped, making Kyle bring his thoughts together.

He let go and gasped as though that kiss sucked all the oxygen from him.

"There goes the last of my money." Said Kenny.

Cartman just stood there, Dazed. He tried collecting all his thoughts until he could breath again. He put a hand to the place Kyle had grabbed him.

"Call me pussy again." Kyle said.

I didn't really know how to end it so I left it there.

Also, one of my favorite hcs is Kenny giggles when anybody tries to kiss him

#south park #kyman #fanfic #microwaved fanfics ☕️♨️#sp k2 #kenman #sp #south park fanfiction

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delopsia · 10 months

Text

There are just some days when driving down your driveway feels impossible.

Long, winding, as are most driveways in Wabang. This had been the main selling point when you bought this house. Twisting through the landscape and gently bringing you up to your humble little home. Usually pleasant to drive down.

Today, even the picturesque view of the Teton mountain ranges can make the drive worthwhile. Your eyelids heavy as you try to focus on the dirt road. Hands full of lead, fighting to lift them enough to turn the steering wheel. The longer you drive, the longer the road becomes. A permanent circuit that you've become trapped on.

The garage door doesn't lift when you press the button.

You can't be brought to press it again. Parking the car in front of the door and stumbling toward the house with nothing but your keys and your phone. Lunch box, work bag, wallet, and everything else be damned.

You don't remember if you locked the car. But if someone out there has the energy to drive all the way up here to steal from you, they can have whatever the hell they want. So long as they don't bother you.

All you can think about is your bed. Quiet. Soft. Secluded. Where nobody can barge in and force you to listen to their daily gripes and needless gripings about the short skirt your coworker is wearing. Free of mindless drivers who pull out in front of you rather than waiting a few seconds longer. Away from bouncing deer who meander into the road and dare you to hit them.

The sheets aren't on the bed.

Right. Right. You put them in the wash this morning. They should be dry and ready to be put on the bed by now; the fitted sheet is all you want to grab. Blankets from the couch will suffice until you feel like making the bed properly.

But the dryer is empty.

And the washer is full of dry, unwashed sheets, still soaked by the detergent you poured in there before you left. How on gods green earth did you forget to turn the washer on, and why did it have to happen today?

The sound of running water is the only reason you remember turning the machine on. Echoing down the hall as you stumble over heavy feet that refuse to function like you want them to. Tripping on the edge of the rug that you know is there because, like most things today, nothing can go right.

You'd pour yourself a drink, but with your luck, the damn glass would break the moment it's full.

The couch squeaks as you all but fall onto it. Head hitting the pillow without a second thought while your hand reaches for a blanket, yanking it overtop of yourself. Five in the afternoon is too early to be going to bed, much less on a couch, but you can't bring yourself to give a damn.

And you must fall asleep because, after a long silence, you think you hear the distant groan of the garage door opening and the muffled rumble of your car as it's moved inside. More silence, and then the dryer is humming down the hallway.

Something clicks on the table, a glass of some sort placed upon it. The only indication you have that you're not alone. Before you're feeling lips against your forehead and the gentle caress of a calloused hand against your cheek.

Your eyes feel as if they've been glued shut. Heavy, difficult to pry open, and when they do finally lift, your vision is blurry. But you recognize this figure, with their black t-shirt and dark brown hair.

"Bad day?" Rhett hums, his lips not quite leaving your skin.

It takes you a moment to find your voice. Feels like there's a rock lodged in your throat as you open your mouth, "horrible."

And Rhett doesn't ask you to talk about it. Doesn't pry for details you'd rather not relive. Or pressure you into talking so that he can feel better about seeing you moping on the living room couch. No, he doesn't do that at all. He's only got one question.

"Care for some company?"

Your response comes in the form of you squirming backward. Creating space for him to squeeze into. It's just enough. His legs tangle with yours as a strong arm curls around your waist, drawing you to his warm chest. Where his heart thumps quietly, a dull pitter-patter that has your eyes feeling heavy once more.

His face holds a million questions, but he doesn't say another word. Content to press another kiss to your forehead and close his eyes when you close yours.

And as your consciousness begins to slip away once more, you wonder if his day has been similar to yours. Because there's a darkness beneath his eyes that wasn't there when he left at dawn. Still hums as you drift off, his hand stroking invisible shapes into your back, but it falls into a quiet stillness sooner than usual.

"Turn your noggin' off 'n sleep," that deep voice grumbles against you.

Even after a long day where everything has gone wrong, Rhett's still the one thing that always goes right.

#rhett abbott #outer range #rhett abbott outer range #outer range amazon #x reader #self insert #reader self insert #delgato's warmups

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hlficlibrary · 1 year

Text

✤ Neighbors Fics✤

A series of posts with the top five fics of each category by kudos plus five more hidden gems from that category! Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find our other recs here.

- Top 5 H/L Fics -

1️⃣ In Dreams by dolce_piccante / @haydolce [M, 23k]

AU. When Harry moves to a new city, his new flat come with a number of sweet, anonymous gifts and surprises that brighten his days. Could it be a friendly ghost? Another friendly presence in his new building is his tattooed neighbor, Louis, who seems determined to put a smile back on his face.

2️⃣ I Didn't Fall For You (You Fucking Tripped Me) by @allwaswell16 [E, 20k]

These days Louis tends to steer clear of dating alphas. He’s dated too many knotheads in his time, and he’s ready to just focus on school and his friends and his pet monitor lizard, of course.

Too bad the alpha next door won’t take a hint and stop using the worst pick up lines of all time on him. He’s really got to stop laughing with him--and talking to him and walking to class with him and letting him bring him coffee and tea and gifts for his lizard and watching Netflix together and...

3️⃣ happiness comes in on tiptoe by scagnetism [NR, 9k]

There is a supermodel standing at Louis’ door. He suddenly feels extremely insecure about his unwashed hair and clothes that have seen better days. He’s sure his mouth has fallen open, but there is a supermodel standing on his doorstep.

Or, the AU where Louis is new to the neighborhood and Harry is the angel living next door.

4️⃣ That's How I Know by @allwaswell16 [E, 19k]

Louis Tomlinson has just landed his dream job, coaching soccer at Augustus University. When he moves into a new house near campus, he meets his very fit new neighbor, English professor Harry Styles. Although their first meeting leads to an instant mutual dislike, the more Harry gets to know Louis, the more he likes what he sees.

Or the one where Harry’s African grey parrot spills his dirty secrets to his very hot neighbor.

5️⃣ please don't be in love with someone else by wildestdreams / @butyouneverdo [E, 18k]

Harry ran after Niall, out the door, pausing at the doorway, realizing he was only in his boxer briefs and yelled out, “Niall! You forgot your lunch.”

Just as Niall paused from all the way down the hall, the door opposite theirs opened and the hottest boy Harry had ever seen walked out, eyes widening when he spotted a half naked Harry.

Harry was so fixated upon the boy across from him, who was staring right back with his mouth now hanging open, he’d missed it when Niall bounded back towards him and grabbed the lunch before popping a kiss on his cheek and leaving again. The kiss snapped Harry out of his daze and he let out a breathy laugh as the pretty boy walked out furthermore, closing his door behind him. He gave Harry a small smile back, raising his eyebrows in amusement while looking down past Harry’s waist and then back up.

or The one where Harry and Louis are neighbors and there's a lot of overthinking, misunderstandings, Backstreet Boys sing alongs, embarrassing moments in the hallway, and pining. They somehow still make it work.

- HIDDEN GEMS -

💎 deFENCEless by solvetheminourdreams / @cursethedaylight [T, 27k]

"I moved here first," Louis says with finality, crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry shoots him an unimpressed look before leaning forward, leaving only a tiny gap between them.

"Then get the fence first," he whispers, lips a mere inch or two away from Louis'.

When Louis butts heads with his new neighbor who loves to garden a little too much, all he can do to protect his yard (and heart), is keep on building up his fence(s).

💎 Cut to The Feeling by ishiplouis / @pocketsunshineharry [E, 16k]

Louis has just moved into his new apartment in the fancy Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea in London. All was well until he notices that his neighbour rarely closes the curtains which makes for an unlikely friendship to form.

Or AU where Louis is a ghostwriter working from home, and Harry is his firefighter neighbour who happens to have the cutest dog on Earth.

💎 a garden in bloom by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry [G, 10k]

Louis used to live the quiet sweet life of a small business owner in the English countryside.

Then Harry Styles came along.

💎 Through the Wall (Through the Wall) by @taggiecb [M, 5k]

"We live in adjacent apartment and one day I accidentally knocked a hole in the wall and into your living room. I'm really sorry oh my God you're naked" AU

💎 Love Mail by @neondiamond [G, 5k]

A week after moving into a new apartment complex, Harry discovers the mailman doesn’t seem to know the difference between numbers 23 and 28. He’s not too mad about it when he finds out just how handsome his neighbour from apartment 28 really is.

Or the one where Harry and Louis keep mistakingly receiving each other’s mail (and also fall in love).

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sweeter-innocence-fics · 11 months

Text

My Sweetest Downfall - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Work Summary:

Eddie’s back from the Upside Down, but things aren’t exactly how he left them. Hawkins is in pieces, his friends are scattered and the love of his life is… pregnant?

Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader

Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 Epilogue

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3839

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @eddiesgirlforever @harrys-tittie @munsonmoonshine86

Taglist info

Previous Chapter

Notes:

this chapter brought to you by my love for erica sinclair (she's just a baby)

warnings for general violence, violence against children specifically, mind control, upside down stuff, being pregnant and in danger, weed smoking, alcohol, eddie is a bit of an unwashed boy, mentions of jerking off, reader is protective of both eddie and steve, children in danger, a touch of lumax

1 more chapter + an epilogue to go.

---

~ FIVE MONTHS EARLIER ~

It was starting to rain as you biked towards Reefer Rick’s. You peddled faster, which was hard, because your backpack was very heavy. As your fingers curled around the handlebars, stiff with cold and wet with rain, you knew that you wouldn’t do this for anyone else.

But this was for Eddie.

When the house came into view, you breathed a sigh of relief. You stashed your bike in the boathouse – you didn’t want there to be any sign that anyone was living here – and knocked on the door of the house.

It opened immediately. Eddie was standing there, dressed in the same outfit he’d been wearing for three days. You wrinkled your nose.

“Oh, thank god it’s you,” he said, grabbing you by the arms and pulling you inside.

“I brought you some supplies,” you said, dumping your backpack on the table. You unzipped it and pulled out a denim jacket. “You left this at my house like a year ago.” You tossed it at him.

“Oh my god. Have you been keeping this from me the whole time?”

“I didn’t know it was there! Steve found it, actually. I think it got mixed in with his stuff. Speaking of.” You pulled out a few more items of clothing. “He said you could borrow these, so that you’re not stuck wearing the same stuff forever. Oh, and here’s a t-shirt you left at my house.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he said.

“I’m not done.” You gave him a mischievous smile he couldn’t help but return. “I picked these up for you from the store. I figured you wouldn’t wanna borrow Steve’s.” You threw a packet of five sets of underwear at him.

He held them to his chest. “My hero.”

“That’s just the clothes. I brought other stuff, too.” Eddie watched as you pulled out various toiletries, a couple of frozen pizzas, cereal, chips, as well as some tinned foods. As you held out a 6-pack of his favourite beer, his face morphed into a grin. You noticed. “You think that’s exciting, just wait for the main event.”

From a side pocket in your bag, you removed a small tin. You pressed it into his hands. He flicked it open, and saw three pre-rolled joints.

“Are these the ones I gave you for your birthday?” he asked, incredulous that they’d lasted so long.

“Don’t look so surprised. I almost never smoke without you, and if I’m with you, you’re rolling fresh ones.”

“These were a present though!”

“Well, you can pay me back after we’ve cleared your name, can’t we?”

“Fuck yes.” He reached for one of the joints but you slapped his hand away.

“Shower first,” you said, taking the tin back. He groaned. “I’m gonna heat up these pizzas.”

Despite his protestations, he took his time in the shower. He emerged twenty minutes later, with wet hair and smelling like moisturiser.

“Your pizza is in the oven,” you said, taking another bite of your own. It was almost half-finished.

Eddie grabbed his own food, put it on a tray and took up his seat beside you on the couch.

“Alright, I’ve waited long enough. Give me the stuff,” he said, making grabby hands at you. You tossed him the tin. He deftly pulled out a joint, put it between his lips, and lit it.

“Will Rick mind us smoking in here?” He gave you an incredulous look. “Right, stupid question.”

He took a few tokes on the spliff, and then passed it over to you. You took a deep drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs.

“I don’t know about this lotion stuff you brought me. I feel all slimy.”

You giggled. “You’ll thank me for it later when your skin is really soft.”

“I’ve never really used lotion for that. Just for, you know, other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” The weed had left you feeling tingly and warm.

“You know, like…” He made a jerking off motion.

Your cheeks heated up, and you burst out laughing. “Stop, stop, you’re making me picture it!”

“Oh come on, the mental image can’t be that bad! I’m a performer! I can put on a good show!”

“You’re so gross!”

“You love it.”

He was right about that. As the two of you ate your pizza and talked, you tried to ignore the buzzing in your stomach.

Eddie was your best friend. Sure, he was hot. But he’d never led you to believe that he wanted you too. There was no way you could make the first move.

As the two of you finished your food, you lapsed into a companionable silence. Eddie was normally so restless, desperate to fill any space with meaningless talk, but not with you. With you, he could sit and not have to talk. You couldn’t help but feel honoured.

“How did you cope with it?” he asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Cope with what?”

“All this.” He made a grand, all-encompassing gesture. “Monsters. Superpowers. The Upside-Down. How did you come to terms with the fact that the world wasn’t what you thought it was?”

You took a contemplative sip of your beer. “I got roped into it by Dustin Henderson. Steve had tried to keep me out of it, but I ended up helping the two of them track down Dustin’s pet demodog, Dart. Steve was furious that Dustin had told me all about it, and I was furious that Steve had kept it from me. Of course, he was just trying to protect me, but who protects him, you know? My brother has always had a self-sacrificing streak. It scares me, honestly.”

Eddie took your hand between both of his own and squeezed it. His skin was very warm where it was pressed against yours. “That’s why you’ve gotta stick around, right? To make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid?”

“Well, not just that. I gotta help keep the kids safe, too. I don’t wanna lose anyone else to this.” Eddie’s expression was grave. Although your head felt light, your heart felt heavy. “But yeah, the others don’t watch out for Steve the way they should. They think that because he says he’s fine, he’s fine, you know? And I know it’s because they’ve all got their own shit going on. But still. I have to make sure he’s okay.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m looking out for him now too. I’m gonna make sure your big dumb hero brother doesn’t do anything stupid, alright?”

You smiled at him. “That’s how I got through it. That’s how I coped.”

“What?”

“By realising that I didn’t have to do this alone.”

You met Eddie’s eyes, and found his gaze on you so intense you had to look away. You took another drag on the joint, and when you set it down in the ashtray, he was still looking at you.

“What?”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he said.

“What makes you say that?”

He shifted closer to you. With a surprisingly gentle hand, he brushed your hair out of your face. “You care about people, so much. I always thought that caring was dangerous, that it made me vulnerable. But you’re out here, dealing with a world of monsters that have killed people you care about, and you still love like the world isn’t ending.” His hand was on your cheek now, his skin hot against yours. “That’s pretty fucking amazing, if you ask me.”

“Eddie…” You looked up at him. His eyes were big and bright, boring a hole into your soul.

“If I knew how to love even half as good as you do…” He sighed.

“… Yeah?”

He couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. “…Maybe I’d come close to deserving you.”

The rubber band keeping your heart in place snapped. You launched yourself at him, landing in his lap with your hands tangled in his hair. He caught you with his hands and with his lips. You kissed each other feverishly, like your lives depended on it.

~ PRESENT DAY ~

Erica was trembling. Your heart ached. She always tried so hard to seem strong and unbothered, but right now she was fighting back tears. You pulled her into a hug.

Normally, you were sure she would’ve pushed you away, but right now, she just hugged you back, taking a shuddering breath.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, rubbing her back. “It’s okay.”

“What are we going to do?” she asked, her voice trembling.

You tried to think. You were the only adult here now. Your numbers were severely depleted, and there were demodogs outside. It pained you, but you couldn’t go looking for Will and Mike. You just couldn’t risk it.

You turned to Dustin, who was lying in the shattered remains of the switchboard. Dark bruises were starting to form on his arms.

“You okay, kiddo?” you asked, extending a hand to him. With great effort, you helped him to his feet.

He wrapped his arms around himself. “I think he cracked some of my ribs.”

Your stomach dropped, the image of Eddie throwing Dustin into the switchboard flashing across your mind. It was jarring.

“I’m sorry,” you said. It was a little ridiculous, but it felt like you were the one who owed him an apology.

He winced. “I’ll be okay.”

“Did you manage to tell the others that Will and Mike were gone before the switchboard broke?”

He shook his head. “No. But I do have a back-up.” His backpack was lying beside the couch. He rummaged through it, pulling out his walkie-talkie.

“Can you call the others on that thing?”

He grinned at you. “Sure can.”

“Alright. Tell them to watch out for Eddie, and that Will and Mike are out there too. Hopefully they can look for them even if we can’t.”

“We can’t?” Dustin’s face fell. “But we’ve got to! We can’t leave them out there alone!”

“I’m pregnant and you’ve got cracked ribs. I hate to say it, but the only able-bodied person left here is Lucas. I can’t risk all our lives like that.”

“What about me?” asked Erica. She seemed to have regained some of her composure.

“You’re eleven.” Both of them started speaking at once, but you quieted them by holding up a hand. “Don’t argue with me, there’s no time. Dustin, make the call. Erica, come with me.”

You led Erica into the bedroom. Max was laying back against the pillows, her eyes now closed. Lucas was sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking her hair.

“Hey,” you murmured.

He didn’t look at you, but said, “hey,” back.

“How is she doing?”

“She isn’t in a trance anymore. I think she’s sleeping.” His voice was tight. He sounded like he was holding back tears.

“Lucas, I hate to do this, but I need you to help me with something.”

He finally looked at you. “What?”

“There are demodogs outside. We don’t have much time before they start trying to break in. I need your help holding them off.”

“But… Max?”

“She’ll be safe in here,” you said. “As long as we can hold them off out there. Erica can stay with her.”

Lucas looked at Erica. She nodded at him. He exhaled. “Fine. Stay with her,” he said to his little sister, getting to his feet. Wordlessly, she put her arms around him.

As they hugged, you walked over to the table where the weapons were laid out. You picked up a shotgun, stuffed your pockets full of shells and then walked back out into the living room.

Dustin was fiddling with his walkie-talkie. You walked over to the front door. The windows were boarded up, but there were a few cracks between the boards that you could see through. Your stomach plummeted.

Three demodogs were prowling up and down the porch. As you stood there watching them, they turned their ugly, unseeing faces towards you.

“Dustin?” you called over your shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Grab a weapon. Make sure Lucas gets one too.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Something hit the outside of the door. Peeking through the gap, you saw a demodog throw itself bodily into the wood, which made a concerning cracking sound.

There were a few jackets hanging up by the door. You grabbed one, figuring that the leather would be better protection than nothing, and then transferred the shotgun shells into your new pockets. You hung the baseball bat from your belt and slung your shotgun over your shoulder.

Dustin and Lucas returned, both carrying guns. Lucas had another baseball bat, while Dustin had knives, and they were both carrying Molotov cocktails.

Max and Erica were now barricaded in the bedroom. You felt the weight of the shotgun in your hand while you loaded it.

“We can’t let them knock down the door,” you said, “we’ll be completely defenceless if something worse comes along. We’ve got to take the fight to them.”

“We could open the door and throw a Molotov at them?” Dustin suggested, but you shook your head. There was another thud as a demodog hit the door.

“The whole cabin is made of wood.” THUD. “Fire might keep us safe for a little while but we’ll have nowhere to go if this place burns down. We only use molotovs for the demodogs that aren’t on the porch, understood?” THUD. They both nodded. “They’ll be easier if we divide and conquer. Lucas, on my signal, I want you to open the door. If we can lure one of them in – just one of them –” THUD. “Dustin and I can kill it while you close the door.”

Lucas swallowed nervously. “What if I’m not fast enough?”

You put your hand on his shoulder and squeezed. THUD. “You will be. I know you will. You’re an athlete. Ready?”

“…Ready.” THUD. CRACK.

You turned to Dustin. He gulped, and lifted up his knives. “Ready.”

You positioned yourself around the door, ready to fight. You prayed that this would work. If it didn’t, you had killed everyone.

“Watch their movements,” you said. “Get them when one is ready to pounce.”

Lucas exhaled through his nose. “Three, two…” He pulled the door open and the demodog, which had been mid-leap, sailed through the air towards you. You swung your bat at it, knocking it to the ground.

To your relief, Lucas slammed the front door shut before any others made it through. There were thuds and hisses from the outside as the other two tried to break in. You brought your bat down hard on the demodog again, and Dustin got in far closer to it than you were comfortable with, sinking the knife into its chest.

It was no longer moving. Its blood was seeping into the floorboards. To be sure, you took one of Dustin’s knives and decapitated it.

“Same again?” asked Lucas.

You grimaced. “They’ll be expecting it this time. We took care of this one pretty handily, but two is completely different matter.”

“Uh… Guys…” Lucas was staring through the gap in the barricade. You realised that it had been far too long since you’d last heard a thud. You found your own gap and gasped.

The two demodogs had retreated from the porch, but you could still see them, prowling up and down in front of the cabin.

They had brought friends. Fifteen. Maybe twenty. And those were just the ones you could see. The shadows seemed to be swirling with them. Bile rose in your throat. You swallowed hard.

The boys were both staring out through the barricade, mouths agape.

“What do we do?” asked Dustin.

“I… I don’t know.” Fear was building in your chest, but you tried to push it down. Will and Mike were out there. So was Eddie. If you couldn’t pull it together, you might lose everyone. You took a deep breath. “Molotovs. Lucas, you’ve got a good arm. Dustin, you take the door. We do one at a time, shutting the door between each throw. If any get through, we’ll deal with them.” You cocked your shotgun. “Understood?”

The boys both nodded and got into position. You stood by Lucas’ side, pointing your shotgun at the door while he readied a Molotov.

On Lucas’ signal, Dustin pulled the door back, and you raised the gun. A demodog pounced, leaping towards you in what felt like slow motion, until it collided with a Molotov in mid-air. You didn’t have time to see what happened next, because Dustin slammed the door.

You scrambled for your gap in the barricade, watching as the creature burst into flames, landing on top of several others, which scattered.

“Good. That was good,” you said. “Again, before they have a chance to regroup.”

The second Molotov wasn’t quite so successful. It smashed into the ground, setting some grass on fire, but missing any demodogs. Lucas looked crestfallen.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “You’ll get the next one.” He grimaced, but nodded.

The third time that Dustin opened the door, Lucas didn’t have a chance to throw the Molotov, because a demodog took the opportunity to leap through the gap, going straight for him.

You shot it out of the air, and it crumpled immediately. “Shut the door,” you shouted to Dustin, and he did. “Fuck.”

“They’re getting closer,” said Dustin, staring through a gap. “Even if we manage to hit them, they might still make it inside.”

There was a thud of one of them hitting the door again. “Okay, we need a new plan.”

Distantly, from far out in the woods, you heard a scream. You pushed your face right up against the barricade. The demodogs were dispersing. They were turning to run back into the woods. There was half a breath of relief, and then a deep sense of dread. Something was wrong.

Wordlessly, you wrenched the door open. You recognised the voice screaming in the woods. Mike Wheeler. Your stomach roiled with the knowledge that you were supposed to be protecting him.

“Grab molotovs,” you yelled at the two boys. “We have to draw them off.”

You could see that Dustin’s hands were shaking, but he didn’t complain. The three of you stood on the porch, tossing Molotovs into the writhing mass of demodog bodies. Some of them turned to face you, but most carried on running.

You took potshots at the ones who got too close, adrenaline running high. So focused were you on the edge of the woods, on the two young boys out there that you hadn’t been able to protect, you didn’t notice you were being flanked.

The full force of a demodog hit you in the side, bowling you over. The shotgun slipped from your hands, skidding across the porch. You reached for your baseball bat, but you were at an awkward angle, and claws sank into your arm, the pain stopping you in your tracks.

You looked to Dustin and Lucas for help, but they were both occupied, fighting off their own demodogs.

So this was it.

This was how you were going to die. Failing to save a group of children from monsters. You hoped, at the very least, that the barricade protecting Max and Erica would hold.

You waited for a final blow that never came. Instead, the creature was wrenched away from you bodily, tearing a deep cut into your arm as it did so.

You looked up at your saviour. Eddie had pulled the thing off you with his bare hands, tossing it to the side like it was nothing.

“Get back inside,” he said, pulling you to your feet with one hand. Your eyes widened at his strength.

“But- Will and Mike-”

“Leave it to me. Don’t let me back in, okay?” He pressed a kiss to your temple, and then pushed you through the door. Dustin and Lucas were waiting on the other side, catching you as you stumbled backwards. The door slammed shut by itself.

“Let me go,” you said weakly, disentangling yourself from the boys and stumbling back to the barricade. You stood on tiptoes to watch Eddie through the gap.

You’d never seen anything like this before. Belatedly, you realised he’d taken the baseball bat from your belt when he’d pushed you inside.

He was fast, and stronger than you could’ve believed. He killed demodogs with a single blow, splattering viscera and gore across the porch.

Whatever Vecna had done to Eddie in the Upside Down, he wasn’t the man he’d been before. You had no idea whether that was good or bad, but as he slayed Vecna’s minions, it was hard to see the downside.

“There are too many of them,” said Dustin, desperately, and you realised that he was right.

For every one that Eddie killed, two seemed to take its place. He was being swarmed. He was being overpowered. Your mind flashed back to the demobats, and the way they’d taken him from you in the first place. You hadn’t witnessed it, but Dustin’s description had been awfully vivid. You took a deep, shuddering breath.

“What do we do?” asked Lucas. “What can we do?”

Don’t let me back in, okay?

Eddie’s words played back in your head. You knew that he was only trying to protect you, that stupid, self-sacrificing bastard. You needed him. Couldn’t he see that?

“‘We’ aren’t doing anything. You two, fall back to the bedroom with Max and Erica. Take the walkie-talkie. Try to get call for back-up. Or an evacuation.”

“What about you?” asked Lucas.

“I’m going to save Eddie.” You could see them about to protest, but you were saved from the argument by the sound of the barricade by the back door cracking. “Go. Hurry.”

The two boys gave you one last look before they retreated. You breathed deep. If you died tonight, then you died with Eddie.

And maybe little Melody wouldn’t get to live, but Dustin and Lucas and Max and Erica would. Maybe that was enough. Maybe it had to be.

Unable to stall any longer, you opened the door.

Eddie turned to you, four demodogs hanging off him, terror in his eyes. “No!” he shouted, but you didn’t listen. You scooped up your shotgun from where it was laying on the ground and took a shot at one of the creatures. Its body exploded, freeing Eddie to yank another one off himself.

You shot another, and while you reloaded, he tossed the other two back over the fence.

“I told you to go inside!” he said.

“Well, I decided not to listen.” You aimed at the nearest demodog and blow its head clean off. “If you die, I die.”

He let out a growl of frustration but didn’t protest further. The two of you stood back-to-back, ready to take on the world.

The world wasn’t ready to take on you. A demodog leapt at you up the stairs of the porch, but before it had a chance to reach you, it disintegrated into dust.

Next Chapter

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x harrington!reader #steve harrington x sister!reader

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