#then i wonder if it would apply to ‘not real’ ones too

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 3/34 - soft blue sweater

[Read on AO3]

That weekend, it is with giddy excitement that Mulder and Scully spend the day at her apartment up to their eyeballs in paperwork, brochures, and Chinese food.

“Next question: where would we live? Together or separate?”

“Together,” she answers, before thinking she should probably soften that affirmative answer with an indifferent, “if that works for you.”

“It more than works for me,” he says with certainty. “I can ask Frohike for the number of the real estate agent who hooked him up with the lair. Or we could live here, either way.”

This is crazy. They’re moving so fast. What they’re thinking of doing doesn’t even make sense. Everyone will think they’ve well and truly lost their minds, and maybe they have!

“This is giving me a headache,” she admits, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

“I’ll flag that as one to revisit later,” he says, jotting something down in a notebook. “This communicating thing is a lot of work, huh, Scully? No wonder we don’t do it more often.” He grins at her, more freely than he has in a long time.

She rubs a hand over her tired eyes. “No, it’s good. It’s good. I’m glad we’re doing this, Mulder.”

“Me too.”

He just looks so happy, she can’t help but smile back at him. The knot of uncertainty she’s been harboring as a result of her overthinking dissolves instantly in the radiance of his boyish enthusiasm. He’s all soft edges today, for once out of his G-man uniform. Instead, he wears that soft knit blue sweater she likes so much, and jeans that hug him in all the right places.

His socked feet rest on her coffee table while he flips through various documents, assembling them into binders with an attention to detail that she’s only ever seen him apply to their files. She’s mesmerized.

This might be her life. If they go through with this… He just said he’d live with her. Weekends spent together flash before her eyes, not having to say goodbye after one of their movie nights, just ‘goodnight.’ Takeout containers morph into home-cooked dinners at the table in her kitchen. Him making coffee in the morning. Driving to and from work together…

As much as the thought appeals to her, there’s one tiny detail missing that could put an end to this entire operation before it even begins.

“Mulder?” she asks, inadvertently cutting off whatever rambling he’s been doing while she wasn’t paying attention.

He glances up at her, pushing his glasses back up his nose to keep them from sliding off. The sight almost makes her forget what she was going to ask, as important as it was, but in this case, her concern far outweighs anything else.

“Do you think they’ll buy the co-parenting thing? I mean, I’m not really seeing a precedent for it in any of the literature I’ve looked at. Would they even accept our application?”

He’s quiet for a second. That second stretches into two.

“I’ve been thinking about that.”

She swears the entire block goes silent, not even the sound of a car on the street outside or the hum of heat pumping through her apartment. It makes his words feel heavy. Meaningful. Like she’s just dipped into unfamiliar and dangerous territory without knowing it.

“And...?”

He rubs the back of his neck, obviously struggling to verbalize whatever is going on in that beautiful mind of his.

And then he just outright says it.

“We could get married.”

Her eyes go wide. 

Married.  

“Mulder…”

He puts his hands up, halting her speech. “No, I’m serious. You just said we’d be living together. What’s the difference if we also happen to have a piece of paper that makes it official?” 

There’s that look in his eye, the one he gets when he sits her down for one of his slide presentations. Never could she have imagined he’d have the same look when trying to convince her of marriage. It’s overwhelming.

“Unless,” he pauses, “you think you might meet someone sometime in the future, which is a completely valid concern…”

She has to stop him there. “That’s not it at all. I just– What if this doesn’t work out and we don’t get a baby? You’d be stuck with me and have nothing to show for it.” 

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, the saying goes. If this fails, she could lose… everything. Is that a risk worth taking? Would he grow to resent her? Would they have to jump through legal hoops to undo all of this if things don’t go their way?

“And you could meet someone too,” she reminds him, “someone that could give you a real family. What then?”

He ducks his head, shaking it in a poor attempt to hide a wry smile. “What’s a real family, anyway?” he counters with a shrug, then grabs her hand. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be stuck with than you, Scully.”

Her eyes find his, searching them for something to clue her in to his thought process. Is he serious? Has he lost his mind? She finds nothing but bare honesty in his emerald depths. Bare honesty, and that hope she’s been seeing there since this whole idea came up. It’s a different look for him, but oh how she loves it. She wants to do everything in her power to keep it there.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve thought of asking you before?” he asks.

Her brows furrow, and though part of her wants to bolt, to declare this whole evening an error in judgment, she stays, looking at him warily. His thumb runs over her knuckles, soothing, as if he had known her inclination was to flee from this conversation. Stay , his touch says. Stay with me.

She shakes her head, lips quivering in an almost-smile, and says what he always loves to hear her say. “You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m not!” he counters, equally amused and defensive. “When you had cancer, and I had to fight tooth and nail to get to see you in the hospital…”

She swallows at the memory of waking to find him collapsed by the side of her bed, his hand clasping hers like a lifeline.

“Really?”

“Really,” he answers, his smile softening into fondness. “Though I’m pretty sure Bill would have killed me.”

That brings out a laugh, which Scully shyly hides behind her hand as she wipes it across her nose. When had she started tearing up?

“We’ll buy you a helmet and some shoulder pads, then,” she concedes teasingly.

His mouth quirks up in a smile, knowing precisely what is implied by that response.

“Is that a yes?”

She pauses for a moment, eyes locking with his. Is it? Is she about to agree to marry her best friend?

It should be more of a question, but it isn’t. For some reason, this feels like the most logical thing to do.

She nods.

He shifts on the couch, suppressing a smile and squeezing her hand before letting go. “Well alright then…” he says, crossing his arms in front of him for lack of anything better to do with them. “We can go to the courthouse whenever you’re ready. Or, if you want an actual wedding—”

“No,” she says, a little too quickly. “No, the courthouse will be fine.”

“As long as your mom doesn’t pool her money with Bill to order a hit on me,” he jokes.

“She wouldn’t do that,” she says, rolling her eyes. He does bring up an interesting point though, one that fills her with trepidation. “God, we’ll have to tell her, won’t we? And your mom. And Skinner .”

The dread increases with each name listed.

“We’ll figure that out as we go,” he assures her, placing a calming hand on her knee. “For now, this is just between us. Until you decide otherwise.”

“Just between us,” she agrees, letting his words melt her worries away.

 -.-.-

He had lingered for a while in her doorway when the time came for him to go back to his apartment. It was awkward, but not in a way that might cause alarm in light of what they’d just agreed to do. 

No, as crazy as it might sound, this was one decision neither of them could imagine regretting. The gravity of the situation, though, was what led to the uncharacteristic silence and shyness as she bade him farewell with an impulsive, last-minute hug. He had smiled, and walked backwards out the door, maintaining eye contact until she slowly shut the door between them.

She lies awake in her bed hours later, unable to sleep.

This morning, she was a perpetually single federal agent with a pipe dream of being a mother. Now, she’s engaged to her partner, and there’s partially filled out adoption paperwork with both his and her names on them burning a hole through her top desk drawer.

The Dana from seven years ago would tell her she’s lost her mind.

But then, that Dana also wouldn’t know how important her crackpot new partner would end up being in her life. Skeptical as she was, she’d hardly believe it anyway.

Engaged . She’s always thought about this day, how it would feel to have a man ask for her hand in marriage. She can say without a doubt that this is not how she expected it to go, but the disappointment one might expect in her situation is absent. They may not be going about this in the traditional way, but it is nothing less than what she’d expect with Mulder. 

He had long since rewritten her thoughts on what a normal life was supposed to look like. Her eyes had been opened, the possibilities now seemingly endless instead of linear and predictable. Despite the heartache she has endured over the years, it’s worth it to live with a more complete view of the world. Sometimes, it feels like she and Mulder are the only ones who can see it.

Sighing, she rolls over, her gaze settling on her nightstand.

She shouldn’t. He could be sleeping.

All the same, the corded device beckons her. It’s a temptation she’s familiar with, although tonight it is particularly strong and irresistible.

Don’t, Dana. It’s not real. He’s not really your– Give him space.

She picks up the phone anyway.

Before she can even change her mind, she hears the line connect, and she greets him in the way he’s come to expect.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

She can almost hear him smile on the other end of the call, and all thoughts of this being a bad idea fly from her mind. 

“Well if it isn’t the soon-to-be Mrs. Spooky Mulder,” he says jovially, sounding much too awake for her to have interrupted his sleep.

She rolls her eyes, but can’t help the flutter in her chest at his words. At the timbre of his voice, lazy and drawn out at this late hour. He can be endearing when he wants to be. A real sap at times.

“Hey, Scully. We’re engaged.”

“I know,” she speaks into the phone, curling in toward it and holding it with both hands up against her ear. Her pillow welcomes her into its embrace, and she sinks into it, grinning into the covers.

“We’re gonna give poor Skinner a heart attack,” he says with a laugh.

Their poor boss. He must have had no idea what he was getting into when he was assigned to oversee the X-Files. 

“He’ll get over it,” she says dismissively.

She hears Mulder chuckle a little, the breathy sound tickling her ear. She can tell he’s tipping back in his rickety desk chair in his apartment by the rhythmic creak that sounds, and she pictures him with his feet up on the desk, maybe spinning his basketball around idly in his hands.

“I don’t know, this might break his heart, Scully,” he teases.

Scully rolls her eyes. “Oh, would you stop that? He does not have a thing for me.”

“He absolutely does, and so does every guy in the building.”

She almost asks, ‘Every guy?’ but thankfully catches herself before uttering those words. Sometimes she wonders, but then everything with Diana had shaken what she thought she knew about him. They are still working on getting back to where they were before. It’s far too fresh for her to make any suppositions about where they stand now.

They fall into a brief silence, each waiting for the other to speak first.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he finally asks, when it becomes clear she won’t tell him why she called unless prompted.

She sighs. “I can’t sleep.”

He hums softly in amusement, the sound rattling over the phone. “I don’t know if I’m really the expert you want to be talking to on that particular subject, Scully. Just what exactly do you want me to do about it?” he teases.

“Just talk to me,” she says softly, as if speaking quietly will somehow lessen the embarrassment she feels.

“Ah, so you want me to bore you to sleep. Got it,” he says, taking it in stride. “Which cryptid would you like to hear about tonight, Miss Scully?”

She closes her eyes, her lips tightening into a tired smile. “No monsters, Mulder. You know I find those way too fascinating.”

“Ha ha, Scully,” he says, laughing at her obvious joke. “Okay. How about this? There was this kid at my school growing up. Mark. One of twelve siblings in the same family.”

“Twelve?” she asks incredulously.

“Mm-hmm. All of them adopted.”

Her smile widens, and she burrows further into her pillow, tucking her comforter over her shoulders. She loves these little glimpses she gets into his old life, rare as they are. She doesn’t have to ask why he chose to tell her this one tonight of all nights. His motives are as clear as can be.

“They’d go to Disneyland every summer, all twelve of them plus their parents,” he continues. “Sam and I were so jealous. One of the girls was in the same grade as her, so we all hung out a lot. Well, not all of us. With that many siblings, there were bound to be some you just didn’t get along with. We had fun, though.”

“How’d they afford Disneyland with twelve children?” she asks sleepily.

“It was Martha’s Vineyard, Scully,” he answers simply. “They were filthy rich.”

She hums, feeling herself begin to relax at the soothing monotone of his voice. The line falls silent, but she knows he’s still there. She can hear the gentle sound of his breathing. She allows it to lull her into a state of restfulness.

“After Sam disappeared, it didn’t seem fair. He had so many siblings, while I lost the only one I’d ever have. I stayed away from him for a while after that. He was one of the only people at school that didn’t treat me like some criminal or freak after she was abducted, but I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him or his little sister anymore. It was too big a reminder of what I was missing.”

Scully’s heart aches as she listens. This bedtime story doesn’t have a happy ending, she knows. Though her eyes are closed, she feels a tear leak onto her pillow, hurting for the lonely little boy her partner had once been. She wishes, like she has so many times before, that she could have been there for him then like she is now.

His voice returns, crackling over the line. “Eventually I started going over there again,” he continues, “before they moved away. They were kind to me. Treated me like one of their own. It didn’t make up for Sam being gone, of course, but at least I wasn’t completely alone. And it taught me an important lesson, one I think I’m only just beginning to understand.”

“What’s that, Mulder?” Scully slurs, barely keeping awake but wanting to know the answer—this epiphany he’s had. She has to know how he can tell this story without breaking down into tears as she would if it were her own.

“You can choose your family,” he answers finally, as if it were the obvious conclusion to this story. “They might not have been connected by blood, but Mark’s family was connected by something stronger. Love .”  

He breathes, perhaps lost in the memory of his childhood friend. Perhaps he’s contemplating the great mysteries and joys of the universe. Either could be possible for this deeply philosophical man.

“It seemed to work out pretty good for them.”

Scully’s heart blooms with emotion, her eyes filling with tears.

“It’s time I choose my family, Scully,” he says softly, his voice lowering to just above a whisper. “I hope one day I’ll find out what happened to my sister. I– I still need to have some closure, I think. But it feels good to hope for something else too, for a change. Something more than piecing together a family that was never together in the first place. So, thank you. You’re the one who showed me it was possible. I think I owe you more than everything, at this point.”

She smiles softly into her pillow, reminded of the feel of his breath on her lips that day in his hallway. It’s a thought she has come back to innumerable times since it happened, and though there have been some shake ups since then, it still brings her comfort.

She allows the memory to wash over her, covering her with a blanket of warmth and security.

And finally, she succumbs to the pull of sleep. 

-.-.-

It’s quiet. He listens, recognizing the subtle change in her breathing, and he knows she’s fallen asleep. He could hang up, call it a night, but he selfishly isn’t ready to.

There’s still one more thing he wants to say.

“I choose you, Scully,” he whispers into the phone, too cowardly to say it when she might hear him. “You’re my family. And I can’t wait to see how it grows from here.”

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

[azgfggf]

For a while I’ve been trying to articulate why XWP means so much to me, and I think I’ve figured it out. It seems to come from a bizzaro world where everything is just. Equal. It feels like a real feminist show because the women are so respected.

I realized this when watching episode 6 (or seven maybe?) there was a scene where Xena was imprisoned, feet chained to the floor and hands to the ceiling. A group of men came in with the express purpose to harm, and in a moment of clarity I realized that I didn’t fear for Xena in the way I did for every other female in fantasy. Fantasy (as a male dominated genre) is full of sexual violence towards women, often used as story beats or just shock. It permeates women’s real lives and bleeds into what they read for escapist fantasy. For a long time I’ve felt as if nowhere is truly safe, because most fantasy media eventually has a scene or two where a woman is violated, or a costume that’s glorified lingerie, and I have to remind myself that this genre was never made with women in mind. But that scene ended with Xena beating the shit out of them, because they tried to beat her. Not assault or grab, just punches and kicks, like men would fight in fantasy. And she fucking won because she’s Xena and she’s awesome.

Again, in many episodes men want her. But they’re never violent towards her. In the show she is treated like a man would be treated in any fantasy setting. With respect. That’s true escapism for me, some world where that kind of violence either doesn’t exist or isnt prevalent. A world so easy to make, and yet so often thrown aside because of “historical accuracy”. In fiction. The specifically not historically accurate genre where you can pull anything out of your ass and people just kinda have to vibe with that.

I’ve also mentioned this before, but it’s so rare in fantasy for women to be…carefree I guess? Most of them are jaded from past violence, or future survivors, or meek healers, or old wise women. None of which are very allowed to be silly like their male counterparts. They’re always serious, always the voice of reason. Always so reigned in from what male characters are allowed to be. Xena has a dark past, but she’s still kind. The story is still light. Women are allowed to be happy without being victimized.

XWP is fantasy first and foremost, and it works wonders. There are POC everywhere, and nobody calls attention to it because, well, that’s just how it is in Xena-land. There’s no sexual violence toward any strong women, because, well, that’s just how it is in Xena land. People fight on bamboo poles and race chariots in rivers and the steaks only go up to “Ooooo she has to marry the big bad” which never goes anywhere because we all know Xena is gonna stop them.

Xena Warrior Princess is always gonna be my favorite fantasy show, because it’s fantasy that’s finally geared towards women. A fantasy where women are safe, are capable, are treated in the same regard as men with no quippy girl-power one-liners because nobody needs to quip about the status quo. In a genre where women are so often demeaned and violated for minor story beats or shock value, seeing a work that actually feeds into a more female fantasy is what I’m obsessed with. It’s wonderful to see a magical world where women don’t have to live in fear. Or they do, like because cyclops’s n shit but everybody else does that too.

PS: this mostly applies to modern fantasy. Tolkien and Lewis were two authors I grew up on who I largely blame for my fantasy obsession today.

#xena warrior princess #xena and gabrielle #xenaverse #Never seen Hercules. but I really hope it’s at least the same caliber as this. #posts made wayyyy too late yall I am in my feelings. #xwp #Lucy Lawless??? more like Lucy FLAWLESS

[comas-are-for-sleeping]

anyway this has me being like one day when i am fluent in khmer and mandarin and everything i am going to do all of the things. i want to become fluent in languages so that i can wield them for emotional devastation purposes SOOO bad

DJDJD SOO REAL

the dream of being a polyglot 😍

#i think that was the thing i was/am most jealous of sophie foster for #and… tbh of all the elf abilities i think i might choose that one #which makes me feel like an adult frfr rrg #wait do u think that ability works with fictional languages? #like cause obviously theres no real scientific backing to it but if there was some sort of logical reasoning behind understanding languages #then i wonder if it would apply to ‘not real’ ones too #you think the keeper brainrot is gone for good and then it come crashing back #tbh this summer might be me rereading book series #(also wanna go back into rick riordan universe yippee) #ask #soryasongsaa #pen and ink

[puppyeared]

Mr Craig’s cookies if I ever meet you in my lifetime I’d like to shake your hand

#THESE COOKIES QRE SO FUCKING GOOD? OH MY GOD?? I HAVENT EVEN TRIED THEM ALL UET? #I went downtown with my cousin walking around da city!! I had a lot of fun!!! #The Craig’s cookies guy was really sweet something about being called my dears awakened something in me. Like when the hot topic cashier #Calls me sweetheart of smth. OH YEAH I made friends with one of the hot topic ppl because she helped me apply and we saw each other again #Now that I’m working at spirit Halloween and she was like you’re adorable can I give u a hug and I’m like YEAAA BRING IT IN it was so sweet #ALSO ALSO I GOT!! MY FIRST BINDER!!! IT FEELS AMAZING I CANT DESCRIBE IT. ZOO WEE MAMA #NOW I CAN WEAR MY SHIRTS WITHOUT MAKING TJEM LOOSE AROUND THE FRONT TO HIDE MY CHEST ALL THE TIME WOO #also apparently AGO is free admission for ppl 25 and under real??? I need to remember that next time I want to see the 5th floor #SERIOUSLU THESE COOKIES ARE SO FUCKING GOOD #feels nice going out. I also had ramen for the first time and struggled so I gave up and ate the broccoli with my hands #but the actual soup was good!! I was kind of expecting the narutomaki cause I wanted to see what it tastes like #OO and salmon nigiri is yummy too I thought itd be spicy for some reason but it’s actually ballin. I wonder if they have tuna nigiri does #That exist? I wonder what would happen if I put butter on it or something #Also learned about the cardinal directions and I think I get it but it’s gonna take awhile for it to sink in my fat head lmao. But it’s #Definitely something I can practice when I’m going out to places!! Maybe it’ll stop me from spinning in place using my phones compass #Yapping

[gideonisms]

good god. If anyone knows how to turn off the brain setting that is like. If I do not write this perfectly I will die but also I Cannot get started or I will die. Let me know

#i'm suffering #because the prof was like what are your plans after this class and i was listing jobs i might apply to #he was like no i mean ur grad school plans and we had the whole conversation u know the one teachers sometimes have with you #it would be a waste of potential to do *whatever terrible job you are doing* instead of like. continuing to write papers #and he was really kind so i kind of played it off like haha you haven't read my final paper don't make up ur mind yet #but he said if my paper was good i should discuss my options for grad school afterwards with him and like. fine okay #i was planning to go to trade school after this maybe but like #1 conversation about my other options would be nice don't look a gift horse in the mouth etc #of course i'm wary af i don't trust an authority figure as far as i can throw them but you know. my paper was good i know this for a fact #point is now this paper has to be good or i'll become an electrician. or whatever #and u know what it definitely will be good it's just it won't be quite as good as the last one and i have #work hours and like due dates and i also have to eat food and experience experiences and everything is extremely bright and loud this month! #this is exactly why i am not living up to my 'full' 'potential'. this is exactly why i work the job i do which by the way someone has to #someone has to check out ur groceries and listen to you complain and my only real quarrel with it is the pay and the fact that #i'm just wildly unsuited to it as far as personality goes. like this is just because i can imitate everyone else #i do it in my papers too. i just think of the last peer reviewed paper i read and make my writing also do that #in a way i'm constantly writing fic. when u think about it #if you're wondering whether it has inhibited my 'own' 'voice' the answer is yes! it has.

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost is forced to dress up as Santa for the day and talk to kids.

You’re ordered to tag along as his Elf and do some damage control if necessary.

———————————————————————

You lean against his armchair, watching the chaos in front of you. Children are crying, tugging at their parents’ clothes, shouting both in excitement and fear, all while looking at you. A young boy keeps waving at your lieutenant, desperate to get his attention, but Ghost is too preoccupied with coming to terms with his new reality to notice.

You return his wave with a smile.

“Try to stay still, Santa,” you remind Ghost as you nod towards the boy. “Kids are watching.”

He snaps back into focus and redirects his attention to the queue. He stretches one last time, pushing on the armrests, before settling into the chair.

“Try not to tell me what to do,” he murmurs and waves back at the child.

You straighten up and tweak your green hat, triggering the bell at its tip to jiggle in your ear. You feel for him; you really do. He’s not supposed to be here; he’s not built for this. Unfortunately—for him or the kids, you haven’t decided yet—the “real” Santa broke his hip at the last minute, and your military base stepped in to provide a new Santa for the local community.

And what better replacement than Ghost, you may ask? Well, literally anybody else.

Dressed in a red costume with white faux fur trim, the lieutenant looks nothing like the man you experienced on the battlefield. His shoulders threaten to rip through the rented outfit, and the seams at the back hold onto each other for dear life. Since his belly wasn’t big enough to simulate Santa’s, you asked him to stuff a pillow under his uniform. Surprisingly, Ghost complied almost instantly, leaving you to wonder if he was using the pillow as Kevlar, a barrier between him and the kids or if he was secretly enjoying this.

You also convinced him to ditch the balaclava for the time being since he would now have plenty of props to conceal his face—a wig, a long beard, glasses, and a red hat with a white pom-pom, to be exact. Additionally, you attempted to trick him into applying some blush on his cheeks, but he side-eyed you and told you to ‘be careful now’—ironic for a man who paints his face daily.

You rub your temples, trying to keep calm amid the chaos of the mall as you prepare for what’s about to happen during the next few hours. You have no idea why Price chose him to be Santa, but you didn’t question it either. Ghost seems to be the least qualified for the job out of everyone in the base. It feels like a last resort, so to speak—a ‘that’s all we have left in the store’ solution.

On the other hand, you know precisely why the captain chose you to accompany him. “To monitor the situation,” he said—“To make sure we don’t get sued,” you heard. And, under normal circumstances, you’d be happy to tag along with Ghost—be it on patrol, on missions, or even transporting confidential documents. But in this situation? Acting as a troubleshooter rather than a teammate? You’d rather be anywhere else than here, with anybody else than him.

You take another look at him while he sits on the chair. He’s tugging at the uniform, scratching his head, and instinctively pulling the beard to his nose.

“Stop doing that,” you whisper. “It’s a beard, not a balaclava.”

“Price would have been perfect for the job, for fucks sake,” he spits. “He has the fucking moustache for starters.”

“Stop with the ‘fucks’ and the ‘fucking’ Ghost; you’re about to talk to kids! And, as for the captain, he said he couldn’t do it.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, lifting his hands from the armrests. “And what makes him think that I can?”

“I wish I knew, to be honest, but we don’t have time to go through this again,” you murmur, looking at your watch one last time. You approach the barrier, unclip the rope from the stanchion, and turn over your shoulder.

“Operation ‘Santa’ begins now,” you declare. “Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” He replies, shrugging, and gestures for you to proceed.

And so it begins. Your first ‘customer’ arrives, and many more follow. You guide one family at a time into the enclosure and escort them to Ghost, who handles the rest. Some children are hesitant, peeking out from behind their parents’ legs, while others are much more direct with their intentions as they scream in horror at the sight of him.

On the other hand, Ghost is neither your typical jolly Santa nor the irritated lieutenant you’d expect. He appears to be... understanding. He reassures parents that it’s okay and there’s no need to force their children onto his lap if they feel uncomfortable. He initiates conversations with the kids from a respectful distance. He smiles with his eyes and hunches his shoulders to appear less imposing. Sometimes, he lures the shy ones into a handshake, a fist pump, or a high five by lowering his gloved hand to their level.

And then there are those other types of kids: the curious ones, the social butterflies. The ones who look forward to sitting on Ghost’s lap, diving into full-blown conversations with him. That’s when you stiffen up and switch into damage-control mode to ensure he won’t lash out at them. You begin hovering above them, listening, jumping into their conversations and sometimes interrupting Ghost and replying to the kids instead of him.

You would have thought he’d be grateful to have you managing the situation. Ghost, however, seems more irritated by you than by the little girl who’s currently playing with the pom-pom on his hat.

“Oi, Elf!” he says calmly, yet visibly annoyed. “Emma and I are chatting about how she spilt tomato juice on her Elsa costume and wants a new one for Christmas. Could you please falala off and go wrap some presents?”

“B-but I need to know because I’ll be sewing it for her,” you reply, smiling at the little girl. “Isn’t that right, Emma?”

And, although Emma nods her head, more out of necessity than agreement, you get his point. He’s doing surprisingly well with those kids, even without you. Actually, he’s doing remarkably well, especially without you.

More kids come and go, and Ghost slowly adapts to his new persona. He starts making bets with you, predicting which kids in the queue might ask for a PlayStation or an iPad and even speculating who might wipe snot on his costume. You, in response, adopt a more laid-back approach and let him do his thing. After each child’s visit, Ghost turns towards you, whispering in your ear about their Christmas wishes, as if he’s indeed Santa, and keeps logs.

“My man wants a full-sized car wheel,” Ghost murmurs as the young boy leaps off his lap, “can you believe him?”

“What did you say to him?” You ask, stifling a laugh.

“I told him I’ll get it for him,” he shrugs. “What else should I do?”

“Alright, but what did you really want to tell him?”

“That his dad already has four of them screwed in his car.”

As the day winds down, and the final announcement for the day echoes through the speakers, parents and children walk past you and towards the exit. They wave at Ghost and occasionally at you. The parking lot empties, the stores shut their doors until tomorrow, and the holiday lights that decorate the inside of the mall switch off one by one.

You stretch your back and tap on his shoulder, signalling that both of you should pack up and return to the base.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, grasping your wrist with one hand and tapping his thigh with the other. “You didn’t tell me what you want for Christmas.”

You’re exhausted but still manage to smile as you comply with his request. You sit on his lap, and he leans back to take a better look at you.

“Let’s think about it another way,” you say. “What would you, as Santa, give me for Christmas?”

“Coal,” he replies. “And a muzzle, so you don’t interrupt me while I’m talking. What was that all about?”

“Was afraid you’d say something bad,” you explain. “But you were pretty good with those kids.”

He shakes his head and plays with the fur trim on his sleeve. “Nah,” he murmurs. “I’d never say something bad to a kid.”

“Speaking of bad and coal,” you say, combing his fake beard, “you never asked the typical ‘have you been a good kid’ to any of them.”

“There’s no bad kid in the world, love,” he whispers. “All kids are good, even the naughty ones.”

You smile at him, but he doesn’t look back at you. He’s examining his uniform as if trying to find something else to discuss. He finds some crumbs a kid left on his suit and brushes them off.

“Ready to head back to the base, Lieutenant?” You ask, tapping his thigh before standing up. You extend your hand to him, and he gladly accepts it, helping him rise from the chair he’s been sitting in all day. You begin walking towards the exit, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. You reciprocate by hugging his waist.

You walk up to the parked military vehicle that brought you here earlier, still discussing the day. He opens the door but pauses and turns to look at you.

“Resilience,” he declares. “That’s what I would gift you for Christmas.”

“Why?” You ask, turning to look at him. “You think I need it?”

“We all do,” he replies softly, just like when he used to talk to those kids. “Since I can’t protect you from every obstacle life throws your way, I might as well give you the ability to recover from them.”

“That would make me very happy, Lieutenant.” You say, smiling.

He smiles back at you and reaches for your hat to fix it better on your head. His hand moves to your forehead, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“It’s Santa to you.” He replies.

———————————————————————

A/N: Bruh, I was so tempted to make the reader pull off a Mariah Carey and say, “All I want for Christmas is you,” when Ghost asked what they wanted, but my gag reflexes kicked in every time, and I was cringing galore.

So, there you go: resilience. That’s what I would like to gift you as well. I wish I could shield you from whatever has troubled you in the past or is currently doing so. To protect you from future worries and make everything ‘falala off’. Unfortunately, I can’t do that, neither for you nor for myself.

But this is why comfort characters and stories exist—so we can imagine, when no one is there for us, that someone actually is.

Just like Santa. Just like Ghost.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x gn!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #cod ghost #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #cod mw ghost

[occamstfs]

No Need to Apply

Here is my 1K special! Though admittedly it is nothing much out of the ordinary- Thanks to everyone who submitted prompts but especially the anonymous suggestion that spurred this transformation of a desperate twink into a cocky slob! -Occam

Brock really needed a lucky break. He had been staying with his ex since they ended it, but now that he’s sleeping with someone it’s clear that Brock needs to get his own place. Unfortunately the market is not being quite so accommodating to his urgent needs. Given that he is now to be living alone it’s evident he also needs the place on the cheap. He had been denied all reasonable accommodations that he could afford and was beginning to contemplate moving back in with his parents when he suddenly received an email from an apparent realtor he’d never met.

It was an invitation to an open house at some ritzy downtown apartment that he was sure was out of his price range. Rather than just tossing it to his spam folder though, he finds himself looking at the handful of images with a voracity, whether it’s simple curiosity or a fantasy to have such clearly luxurious housing Brock reads through the whole listing. Reaching the end of the invitation and looking at the specs he finds the rent impossibly labeled as just under half his monthly paycheck.

Nearly spitting up coffee all over himself in shock, Brock’s eyes flutter to find exactly when and where this open house was. Surely the demand for this place would box him out but god wouldn’t it be nice to just check it out and dream. He sends an RSVP and far too quickly the realtor, Lucas, thanks him for his prompt response, wishes him well, and signs off saying see you soon. Brock went about the rest of his day as normal, if not a little cheerier than he’s been for some time as he keeps finding his mind drift to that almost-too-perfect apartment’s view over the city.

Fortunately off from work the next day, Brock took the bus to the open house, stopping by his favorite cafe that just so happens to be nearby. He grabs a drink and finds himself preoccupied with thoughts of what a convenience, what a windfall, this break would be. He heads inside and takes the elevator up to the suite and hesitates before entering at the door. Odd that there is no one else here, he double checks the room and floor and puts his ear to the door to see if perhaps other visitors are inside already.

In his untrained attempt to eavesdrop he puts his weight squarely against the door, pushing it open and stumbling in, nearly spilling his coffee over the pristine floors as he crosses the threshold into the apartment. Light streams in through the blinds, only magnifying the manicured state of the spotless room around him. The floor is clean enough to see his reflection, mouth agape, staring at how impossibly clean the apartment is. The only record at all that the place had ever been lived in is the furniture that had clearly been procured by someone of great means, though one lacking any critical eye or desire for design. He sees framed posters of some real red flag movies near a large TV and some sports trophies lined on a shelf. Brock can’t help but wonder what could cause someone to leave such personal artifacts behind and feels a chill in the air. 

He wanders away from the entrance to stand at the large windows, his phone ringing as he takes in the view of his town. Answering without checking the ID he hears a man’s voice he doesn’t recognize. Though he knows this must be the mystery realtor on the line, “How do you like the place Brock?” he begins to reply before being cut off by Lucas, “Have you seen the view yet, it’s quite something else.” 

Brock feels something flicker through his mind as he gazes at the city blocks around him, below him. His eyes briefly catch on his reflection in the glass, though not long enough to see his eyelids droop slightly as he is able to reply, a tad slower than he usually likes to project, “uhh, yeah I know right, how could I not apply to live here? It’s almost too good to be true right?” There is another chill in the air and his body shivers before tensing up, shocking him back to reality and awareness to something strange afoot, “Excuse me actually, I’m so sorry, how did you get my phone number?”

Lucas clicks his tongue and speaks with an almost sickly sweet tone, “Now Brock come now, what can I do to get you to move in today?” Shaking his head in shock Brock is immediately, regardless of the clear sinister air to this man, he really cannot afford to pass up this chance. He clams up as he clambors to express interest, “No I uh! Of course I want the place, just send the lease over so I can read through it.” There is a real weight to Lucas’ words as Brock hears them, the cloying tone impressing itself on his mind, “Wonderful! That is all I needed to hear!”

It is suddenly dark in the apartment, but wasn’t he looking out the window? He can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed but he cannot see. Brock tries to move his head around to see, to feel anything, he strains his mind reaching for any muscle to flex, any tendon to pull, limbs to controt. He loses track of time and reality as he sits in the darkness, trying to grasp anything beyond his own consciousness, unable to affect anything. He feels his right hand move in a familiar way then he feels a warmth, almost a burning, completely engulfs it. He can almost see the shine of a smile, stark perfectly lined teeth that seem eerily inhuman and suddenly there is once more light. He gasps, coughs, and spits up over himself. Immediately grateful that he can feel anything at all. After feeling his body, and seeing the world almost entirely like it was before he lost consciousness, besides a copy of some contract with his name signed at the bottom.

He takes deep breaths feeling his lungs stretch and he starts to read whatever he has gotten himself into in that stupor. He reads the first few lines before he loses where he was on the page. Going again he finds his eyes suddenly dry, doing an uncharacteristically heavy blink that he can’t quite recall ever doing before and as he wonders this he again forgets his work on the contract. He slams his hand on the thigh in a rare show of aggression and gives it one last go. Brock makes even less progress this time as he is almost immediately overcome by a headache. As soon as he looks away from the sheet though, it disappears. 

Brock groans as he feels himself starting to lose control of his senses before he hears his stomach grumble, and he finds a purpose he can immediately resolve. He starts to the fridge, clearly something has happened, an episode or something, he can figure it out later, he just needs food in his stomach now. He doesn’t stop to realize that there should be no food in the fridge since no one’s been living there. Though he finds there is no need as in the fridge, under a note labeled: “To Help Moving In -Lucas,” Brock sees at least a week of prepped meals. The thought that this is bizarre beyond imagination, as well as the concern at his missing time, is immediately pushed from his mind as his stomach rumbles once more, his mouth watering as he sees his soon-to-be dinner.

Brock swiftly heats it up and begins to scarf it down, throwing something on the paying no mind or care to the thought that he’s using the account of whomever the previous tenant was. He quickly scans through seeing a handful of shows and movies that he wasn’t quite interested in before stumbling on a reality show he was watching with his Ex. He grimaces and almost loses his appetite as he thinks about his boyfriend for the first time in what feels like forever. He sets his meal down on the coffee table and crashes down onto the couch. He continues to stew in ire at his ex, palming his crotch as his feelings become more passionate. He rolls his eyes in irritation at himself and that jerk, he’s not going to masturbate to that asshole. 

He reclines in the couch and hears the sound of paper shifting in the cushions, pulling it out he finds a crusted magazine lodged in the couch. What can he do besides shout “what the fuck” and toss it across the room. How could they have possibly missed that in their cleaning? Brock’s eyes shift across the room suspiciously, though he notices nothing amiss as the room is illuminated by only the television. He looks at his hand that grabbed the porn and blushes, wanting to joke about the absurdity to calm himself down. Though his body makes its priorities known once more as his cock pulses and he looks past to see the magazine once more. He did want to masturbate to anyone besides his ex right? 

He shuffles to pick it up, the discomfort and anxiety from handling something covered in a total strangers cum only heightens his pleasure as he sits back down. He grimaces as he sees this is a real hetero-bullshit magazine, he quickly flips through to find something he can work with. His cock keeps demanding his attention as he flips through, almost impatiently pulsing as if to suggest he doesn’t need the magazine at all, just give it your attention. Though soon enough he finds an ad for some protein powder made to emasculate the reader into buying, that almost immediately helps him lose control. 

Soon after he once more fades from consciousness, his cum joining the plethora of other stains in the magazine as he tosses it behind the couch. He finds himself in a darkness that this time feels almost familiar and pleasurable. He once more feels his hand, this time though it is wet and warm. He feels it scratching in briefs that are too tight, through pubes that are too thick. He hears snoring breaking through the silence of his sleep, but that can’t be right? He would know if he snores, surely that fucker of a boyfriend would have complained. He feels his head grow warm as if he’s got a fever, though he knows it is a rage. He feels his hand feel even tighter in his briefs as his cock begins to grow in them. He continues to think of every slight his ex made, every shortcoming he was made needlessly aware of, and of how much better things are going to be now.

The heat shifts from his mind through his whole body and as light begins to break through the windows. That is not what wakes him up though, rather it is the heavy scent coming from his now sweat stained clothes. He rolls off the couch onto his face, quickly removing his hand from his briefs to catch himself, landing the stinking hand too close to his face to not smell just how loud his underwear smells. He feels his clothes sit weird on his body as he starts to rise, while his shirt just feels like it’s hanging weird, surely from the sweat, it is impossible to not see how strained his underwear is. He groans as he feels them pull strangely before he just discards them and makes his way to the bathroom. 

His eyes immediately latch onto his now exposed crotch, he does a double take as he notices that it seems distinctly larger. He also would have sworn that he shaved his pubes far more recently than it seems. He scratches through them, blushing as he sees dried cum flake off curls that are longer and thicker than he ever remembers them begin. Rather than hoping in the shower like any reasonable person would do he instead tosses on some boxers, not questioning why clothing that isn’t his would just be lying out, or why he would ever put them on. Instead choosing to focus on how right wearing them feels. He pulls them tight and turns wanting to see just how his ass and bulge fill them out, though is waylaid as his shirt blocks the view. 

He sneers as he takes off the sweat-stained shirt and tosses it to the floor, stretching high as his reeking body feels the air on his skin. He smiles in shock as he sees the body he has now exposed, he sees hair spreading across his stomach and torso and sweat dripping off of pits that were sure to stain every shirt he is to wear from now on. Beyond that he feels a body that is indisputably powerful, where there wasn’t even fat on his body before there was now muscle accompanied with weight in all the right places. His eyes then trail down to see the weightiest part of him by far as it bulges even lower in his boxers.

He feels an urge to move, to flex, to stretch, fill him as he hungrily takes in every new change in his body. His eyes trace their way past muscles contorting to land on his face, seeing a jaw that could certainly do with a shave. He sees his eager grin begin to turn into a cocky sneer as he begins to stretch once more, trying to will his torso even longer, trying to force his body even taller. His voice grows even deeper to his barely-aware ears as he closes his eyes to stretch, not seeing his throat force itself thicker and longer. There is once again a flicker in his mind as Brock is in darkness once more. Where there was once discomfort and fear there is now only hunger and an eagerness to grow even more.

He feels an itch burn across his body. He feels his hands dig deep into his pits scratching as hair grows thick enough to hold an odor that would never dissipate. He smells as even in this dreamstate he raises his hands to his nose to give them a post-scratch whiff. He feels the same itch cry out from his chest and pubes, from his lower back and his ass. He feels himself move his jaw as it squares up, a rumble in his throat as he feels his groans grow even deeper. He feels his mind thicken and slow as his muscles flex in his sleep. His arms do rep after unconscious rep as he feels biceps that should not be rub against a chest that has never been there before.

Finally he wakes one last time, his hand as it apparently always is, shoved in his pants, once more barely fitting despite wearing the spacier boxers. Brock blearily looks to see lines of takeout containers covering his coffee table. He scratches his beard using the hand from his crotch and he deeply inhales, two birds one stone after all. He sets out to get started with his day, tossing over in his head if he should masterbate again or not, a stain from a wet dream clearly showing through his boxers. Instead he throws Drake on his speakers and starts getting an early workout in, seeing to every part of his body getting a pump as he feels the hunger in his crotch grow only more urgent. 

Going about this workout Brock feels totally at home in this apartment. After all he’s lived here for? Uh? His mind empties as he looks around and sees weeks of piled up detritus and filth. He sees dirty clothes and cum stains on his couch. Looking past them there are his American Psycho and Fight Club posters, discarded underwear hanging off the latter, as well as the trophies he distinctly remembers winning back in college wrestling. He smirks and flexes tilting his head to sniff his pit. Beyond feeling at home in his apartment he also feels unequivocally at home in this, in his body, duh. He jumps to his feet with ease, his stomach rumbling as he once more goes to meet a basal need.

Throwing some of his favorite protein powder in a blender with some milk and eggs he hears his phone go off. There are a string of messages from some bitch asking him to come back and for the life in him Brock can’t remember who that little fucker is? Hearing his shake finish blending he stares at the profile picture of whoever this twink is as he starts to down it, wiping his lips on his sweaty arm as needed. The twink he doesn’t know calls him Brock and his eye twitches, ugh. Why is this dude calling him by his, uh? Is that his middle name? Or no he was Brock right?

He finishes the shake, tossing the blender onto the pile of dishes in the sink and his mind finds itself deeply conflicted. As ever though, his body is more than happy to assuage him, the phone vibrates once more and his cock begins to bring him clarity, demanding his attention once more. Brock’s a little bitch name. He smirks as he looks around at his sty of an apartment, not remembering how neat it once was. Peeking from under a particularly dirty dish there’s a contract that he remembers that he meant to have a look at. 

Bringing it to his face however he simply can’t find the motivation to even start. Why worry about this when he can masturbate, or fuck maybe he can get that whiny bitch to come over? His eyes trail to the end of the paper and see his signature, written clear as day “Adam.” He guffaws at this, god how stupid can you be, he basically forgot his own name after that twink called him uh, whatever that bitch name was. He feels his crotch grow tight again, that is kinda hot though? He moans to himself, pawing at his crotch and texts whoever this man is his address and to come ready to fuck. Adam feels no real attachment to whoever it is, nor should he, a hole is a hole after all. Saying that thought he can’t help but feel this hole is due to be taught a lesson.

If you enjoyed this I also recommend @fredwkong's The Voice in Your Head which explores a similar idea in quite a unique and captivating way!

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #muscle tf #jockification #reality change #musk tf

[jaeyunverse]

the fake dating pact

pairing(s): park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre(s): fluff, suggestive, fake dating, enemies to lovers, rich kid au, cruise au

wc: 1.6k

warning(s): profanity, making out, implications to sex (no smut)

inspired by: dil dhadakne do

summary: in which ridiculous circumstances lead to a fake dating contract pact being struck between park sunghoon and you.

note: i’m ngl i thought i’d reposted this fic but i’m not able to find it so here we go LOL the sunghoon brainrot’s been hitting real hard lately

masterlist

There was a slight chance Sunghoon and you had crossed the boundaries you’d set when you first drew up your fake dating contract.

Okay, agreement would be a more accurate word choice since the document wasn’t legally binding, but the two of you took its contents very seriously. Together, you’d come up with a few mutually acceptable ground rules:

no kissing unless absolutely necessary

non-sexual acts of intimacy are acceptable in order to maintain the facade

keep arguments to a minimum no matter how insufferable the other person is being

no bed-sharing under any circumstances

no falling for park sunghoon even though he is the epitome of sexiness

The last condition was total bullshit, but you didn’t have it in you to make him get rid of it. Your mom had already done an excellent job at pissing you off; the last thing you wanted to do was get into it with Sunghoon.

One may wonder what caused the two of you to make this pact. Simply put, both your families desperately wanted to set you up with people you had no interest in dating.

(Not that you wanted to seek a romantic relationship with Sunghoon either, but we’ll get into that later.)

Lee Saerom had organised a cruise across the Mediterranean Sea on the occasion of her parents’ 30th wedding anniversary. Normally, your family wouldn’t have come within 10 feet of the Park family, but you were both good friends of the Lees and neither of you wanted to give the other the satisfaction of avoiding the trip.

Now that all the powerful and influential families of Seoul were gathered in the same place for a celebration spanning over a few weeks, your parents thought it would be a good idea to find you an ideal suitor who would help their company expand.

Word spread that you were seeing Lee Heeseung, the younger son of the Lees and heir apparent to their empire. The rumour was entirely false, but you had to admit it was a genius move on your parents’ part. Not only did it become harder for Heeseung and you to deny the allegations, but it made the Lees consider a future with your family’s business.

As if you weren’t in a shitload of mess already, the entire thing had somehow turned into a competition with the Parks beginning their own efforts to set Sunghoon up with Ning Yizhou.

The minor problem was that Heeseung and Yizhou were in love with each other, and neither of them had the courage to tell everyone the truth. They were both too afraid of disappointing their parents and bringing disgrace to their families.

You supposed it was a good thing Sunghoon and you had no such qualms. So, before things could escalate any further, the four of you got together and decided to put an end to this idiocy.

On the third night of the cruise, Sunghoon and you announced your relationship. Holding his hand and giving him lovey-dovey eyes felt ridiculous, but you would rather stomach fake dating him than see a wedge form between Heeseung and Yizhou.

Needless to say, everyone was shocked.

Yizhou even pretended to faint while Heeseung started sobbing hysterically. You couldn’t believe he actually pulled out a tear stick and applied it to the underside of his eyes when no one was looking. You wondered if he’d purchased it for this specific reason when you’d explored Turkey earlier that day.

Overall, it was a pretty convincing act.

The Lees and Nings were furious, but you weren’t particularly worried. In fact, you didn’t even care. Your parents had it coming their way the moment they dragged you into their scheming and plotting.

It took a few days for everyone to calm down and for the festivities to resume, but things pretty much went back to normal. Sunghoon and you both got tongue-lashings from your families, but they didn’t make you two break up.

Your reputations were already in the gutter; forcing you to end your relationship after all that had conspired would have been the cherry on top of your disaster of a cake.

The pre-decided course of action was to fake date Sunghoon till the cruise ended. Once you returned to your daily lives and enough time had passed, you would cook up a reason to break up.

It didn’t take long for your original plan to go to shit. As it turned out, spending a week pretending to love the bane of your existence had proved to be quite the opportunity to really get to know him.

Ever since you were a kid, you’d heard your parents say a lot of terrible things about the Parks. You’d been instructed to stay far away from Sunghoon. An impressionable and susceptible child such as yourself had obeyed every order they gave you.

You’d literally been hard-wired to despise and assume the worst of Sunghoon.

The wall of hatred you’d built between the two of you began coming down brick by brick once you learnt the kind of man he was. He was honourable and good and down-to-earth.

Of course, he was a dickhead to you for the same reason you were a bitch to him, but the asshole side of him was more endearing than annoying now.

His snarky replies no longer seemed to bite, and there was always an underlying film of adoration accompanying them.

Perhaps, he’d grown to care for you just as you had for him.

You certainly hoped that was the case, since regularly making out with someone who couldn’t be bothered with you wasn’t exactly your dream.

To this day, you had no idea how you’d ended up grabbing the collar of his shirt and crashing your mouth against his.

Maybe it was because he kept reminding you that you’d lost a bet to him and you wanted to shut him up, or maybe it was because he hadn’t bothered to button up his shirt and his abs were on full display, the ocean wind ruffling his messy hair.

Nonetheless, something seemed to snap in him when you made the move. He responded to your kiss immediately and pinned you against a wall. Thankfully, it was almost midnight and there was no one to witness your less than decent makeout session on the deck.

The next ten minutes consisted of his hands travelling under your loose shirt, fingers grazing the cold skin of your abdomen. Soon, your shirt was discarded, and your legs were wrapped around his waist.

Sunghoon hadn’t bothered stopping even when you ran out of breath. Instead, he’d taken the opportunity to leave bruises on your jaw and neck. The warm feeling of his tongue soothing the spots where he’d nipped at your skin with his teeth had caused you to experience a burning need for desire that went further than the second base.

The amount of reaction he’d gotten out of you was embarrassing. Never had you been unraveled by anyone so effortlessly. He had to muffle the whimpers that slipped past your lips as a result of his ministrations.

If it weren’t for the fact that you were making out in the open and were at the risk of being walked in on, things would have escalated. By the time you parted, Sunghoon’s lips were swollen, his face was flushed and he was breathing hard.

His eyes were hooded and dark, and he was gazing at you with an intensity that made you shiver.

Taking that as your cue to leave, you pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek, fetched your shirt from the ground and hurried away.

You didn’t even know why you thought things would go back to normal the next day.

One look at him, and your legs turned to jelly. You happily obliged when he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and whisked you away from everyone else.

Soon enough, you’d breached almost all the conditions in your fake dating pact.

You spent most of your nights together—be it hooking up, lying in the comfort of each other’s arms or just talking till slumber claimed you. Never in your life had you imagined being at ease around Sunghoon.

Everything else faded away when you were with him. He made you feel yourself. He made you feel whole.

“Hey,” you murmured while you were both swimming in the pool one night, the stars shining brightly in the sky. His eyes were closed and his neck was tilted up, the back of his head resting on the decking behind. “Can I ask you something?”

Sunghoon hummed and opened his eyes, turning his attention to you. “Yeah.”

“I know we have a plan,” you continued, doing your best to ignore the droplets clinging to his skin, “and I know that we’re supposed to stop pretending after this cruise ends tomorrow, but have you ever thought about making this—” you pointed at him, and then at yourself— “real.”

He laughed softly and shook his head in amusement. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m not joking—”

“Every single day,” he interrupted you. Wading his way through the water to close the distance between your bodies, he repeated, “I have thought about making you mine every goddamn day.”

He cupped your cheeks and rested his forehead against yours. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, Y/N,” he whispered.

Taking a shuddering breath, you closed your eyes and felt him press his lips to yours.

The kiss was slow and passionate, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. It expressed what couldn’t be said using words, and you realised just how much you’d grown to admire and care for this man.

It physically pained you to consider the possibility of a life without him.

“Sunghoon,” you mumbled against his mouth. “I would say I love you too but I don’t wanna breach the contract.”

He chuckled and ran his tongue along your bottom lip, even going as far as to suck on it. “I thought you broke the last rule days ago.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across your face. You opened your lids and shifted to get a better look at his expression.

Sunghoon’s eyes were shining with happiness, and you thought you could gaze into them forever. You thought you could witness the grin on his face and hear his honeyed laugh without ever getting tired. You thought you could stand ground against anything life threw at you if you had him by your side.

You knew you could love him and be loved by him for as long as your soul wandered through the worlds.

“I love you too.”

#enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen fluff #sunghoon fluff #enhypen headcanons #sunghoon headcanons #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen oneshots #sunghoon oneshots #enhypen drabbles #sunghoon drabbles #enhypen soft hours #sunghoon soft hours #enhypen fanfiction #sunghoon fanfiction #enhypen reactions #sunghoon reactions #enhypen timestamps #sunghoon timestamps #enhypen #park sunghoon #enhypen blurbs #sunghoon blurbs

[imaginesmai]

Breeding tonic gone wrong - Azriel

This got out of hand, don't want to label it as Dark!Azriel since it's a breeding drug but it's darkish. Wonderful @daycourtofficial wrote this fic and I thought I could try the breeding potion since I've read fics about it before. But I wanted it to be a little dark, not just smut. Here is the result!

Plot: during a trip to the Illyrian mountains, Azriel and you discover a cabin with all types of monstrosities. One of them ends up in Azriel's blood system, a breeding tonic, which no male nor female has survived before.

Warnings: it is consensual but the consent is given in a life-death situation for both characters. Rough, unhinged Azriel smut. Sex pollen fic.

Illyrians were the worst males alive, and if it was up to you, you would blow those mountains down until none of them breathed. Proof of their cruelty was the lab you were investigating right then, that had installed a permanent frown on your face.

The silence of the room was only broken by the occasional scoffs from your partner, who seemed to have the same feelings about the work done in there. With a half-limp from the previous fight against the guards, you let your eyes travel between the different labeled bottles and horror at their uses.

Pain extension for wing clipping – prevents the muscles from reattaching

Numbing lotion – apply in small quantities before perpetration, makes the female stop squirming

Pleasure beverages – draws the pleasure out of fae 1 and inducts it into fae 2. Still testing

All of them were horrific and terrible, and all of them had been tested. You had heard rumors about hat place before, but Azriel and you didn’t have a real location until now. The twenty males that had died protecting that secret were proof of how sicked that twisted that place was.

“It feels wrong to be here” Azriel muttered from the other side of the room, holding up a bunch of vials in his scarred hands. “How long have it taken them to fill all this up?”

“They are all against… females. Years of researching into their pain, uses and worth” you commented too, your voice only a whisper. “And they have been tested. Approved”

“Let’s finish this and get out of here”

You could feel Azriel’s shadows too exploring the room, and for a moment, you gave yourself a minute to think about possibilities. You had also been raised by Illyrians, in the mountains, yet had been lucky enough to be born in Windhaven. To live next to Rhys’ mother’s cabin and become friends with Cassian, Azriel and Rhysand.

To have one of them as your kind-of-lover, at least more than friends. Everyone knew that you and the shadowsinger were something, and few males approached you when you visited the camps.

You had been lucky, because you could have ended just like those girls that had been used like guinea pigs. The hairs on your arms rose up just at the idea, and you promised yourself you would find each and every participant and tear them into pieces.

“Y/N” Azriel called out of you, and you turned around. “Watch this”

The tremble in his voice, the break from his usual stoic voice, was enough to tear you away from your own worries and thoughts. You replaced his place in front of a worn-down table, full to the brim. Azriel stepped back until he was behind you, until he was between you and the open space.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

You looked over to the notebook he was holding open, old and used. There were different handwritings, names of women crossed out and names of males half-erased. On top, a blank space for the name they would come up with.

In the desk, you spotted several vials with a blueish, bright liquid, some of them empty. The handwritten was tough to read, but before you could squint your eyes, Azriel summed it up for you.

“They were testing breeding accelerations” he explained, the edge of his wing curling around your smaller form. “So far, they hadn’t had results. All the participants died, both males and females”

You held your breath as you read some of the details. Fucked to death seemed to be repeated a lot. Was it a game, to them, the lives of so many women that were dragged into their sick experiments? The miracle of life that they perverted so often?

Azriel shifted closer to you on instinct, probably thinking about the same options you were pondering about. His warm chest against your back made you close the notebook with little care. You couldn’t, wouldn’t, feel pity for those males who had died raping innocent females, probably sold by their own father.

The best thing you could do now was try and find their corpses, give them a proper burial and incinerate the whole place down.

Scarred fingers brushed yours softly, like a gosht touch. Azriel wasn’t a verbal lover, not a public one. He preferred to stay quiet and hidden, and you liked him just like that. Only with your fingers tangling, you expressed the horrors in that poisoned cabin.

You turned around, intending to give him a small smile and maybe make it seem real, but you caught movement from the corner of your eyes. The troubled look on Azriel eyes had him too far away to notice the threat, and you only had time to squeeze your joined hands before he was pushed into you.

With a considerate force, you both collided against the work desk and tumbled into the ground with its content.

“Bitches” the incomer groaned, the edge of his knife breaking the skin of Azriel’s forearm. “You’re all bitches, bastards”

“Motherfucker”

You cursed when your hands touched something sticky. The attacker’s knife scurried down Azriel’s arm when your knife drove through his head. A sickening crunch of blood, bone and brain echoed through the cabin. Azriel had kept his body as an iron shield around you, but you had managed to drag one of your curved weapons and kill the male.

He hissed when the body fell against his back, elbows crumbling under the unexpected weight. You fell back against the sticky substance with a grimace, and helped Azriel push the dead body off.

“That was unfortunate” he complained, rolling off you. “I liked my new jacket”

“And I liked my knife clean, I had just wiped off the blood” you rolled your eyes, getting up and offering him a hand. “Even in death, they cause problems”

Azriel smiled at you when you helped him up, and while he readjusted his weapons, you looked down to the ground.

Papers and empty vials were scattered around. Most of the blood was from the corpse of the ground, which you realized, was one of the males you had thought you killed. One of his wings was missing, courtesy of Azriel, and he was covered in wounds. The biggest of them, the missing part of his head thanks to your knife.

You were about to comment about Azriel getting sloppy when you heard him suck a breath. His body tensed like an arch bow, one of his hands quickly peeling the leather off his arm.

“What?” you were instantly on him, helping him get a better look at the bleeding cut.

“There’s something here” he answered, and you didn’t miss the edge of panic in his usual calm voice. “Something is stuck. In the back”

“Must be a splinter” you walked to his side and peeled the rest of the hard training leathers. “Overgrown baby bat”

He didn’t laugh with you, and your smile died down when you saw the empty vial sticking out of his muscled biceps. It still held the remains of the blue liquid, mixing with his own blood. Azriel couldn’t see it, since it was small enough to hide from his sight. Objectively, it had broken from the fall and emptied on the ground. Objectively, it could be any vial and Azriel would be just fine and perfect.

You felt as if someone had submerged your head underwater as he asked you what was it. As you watched yet another drop run down from the bottom of the vial into his body. No matter how quickly you pulled it off, the harm was done.

For good measure, you took a step back and stared all your intrusive thoughts into the palm of your hand, where the remains of the vial stood. It was covered in his blood, your Azriel’s blood. Your friend, your lover, your Azriel. Your mouth went dry when you looked up and watched his eyes widen in panic.

“Is that…” he didn’t finish the question, nor he needed to.

“Think so. It’s small”

“Was it in? Has it touched my body?” Azriel reached a hand behind his back, searching for a non-existing reassurance in your eyes. “Y/N”

“Maybe it doesn’t work like this. It – it broke, the contents spilled before. We have no way of – “

“Was it in?”

You nodded softly, watching him find the exact point of puncture. You could try and fool yourself, fool him, but you noticed the change in his scent in just a few seconds. Under his spiced, fresh smell, there was something else. His throat bobbed down and his eyes darked, just an inch.

Both of you kept quiet for a second. It had never gone so wrong, so fast, in your missions together. You worked well, you were efficient. At worst cases, any of you got injured and the other would cause a carnage well deserved. At better, you spent time with the person you loved the most but didn’t dare to confess to.

Your ears picked up the increase of his heartrate, and your mind replayed the words in the notebook. The effects of the drug were clear – and the consequences too. That sprung you into action, rounding his rigid body and picking up the fallen notebook.

You flipped through the pages, trying to come up with something else. Something that wasn’t death and a breeding tonic that was just flooding through Azriel’s veins.

“I can’t winnow. I can’t… my shadows. They’re gone” you heard Azriel from behind you, but all you could see were words and crossed out names blurring together.

1st trial: Jolene and Atrox. Healthy subjects. No previous incidents to report.

The male ingested the vial. The effect was instant. Killed the female before undressing her, in his haste of getting closer. Snapped her neck. Died after two minutes, heart gave out.

“Rhysand doesn’t expect us until tomorrow. They won’t be coming. Damn it. Damn it!”

9nd trial: Marvel and Broncor. Stronger, healthier. She has already given birth. Fertile and flexible.

The male ingested the vial. The effect was instant. They copulated for five hours. Female died upon multiple traumas taken to the head. Male kept going for two more hours. Heart gave out.

“Isn’t it too hot? Y/N, listen – what are you doing? Y/N?”

20th trial: Evene and Cyrian. Mated couple. Together for fifteen years. Unconsented teaser.

It was injected into the male arm. The effect was instant. Lasted almost a day. Destroyed previous test cabin, in need for a new one. Female died from multiple lacerations. Male died. Heart gave out.

Weirdly, it wasn’t Azriel’s voice trying to call for you what broke you free from the notebook, but the faint sound of his heart. As you had read through the pages, it had increased dangerously. You had never heard it so loud and fast. The spymaster always controlled his heartrate – through exercises, through missions, through sex.

But you could hear it over your own, loud and demanding. You turned around and found Azriel covered in sweat. His pupils were expanded until you couldn’t see the sweet hazel behind them. And his hand, the one that wasn’t tugging at the edge of his shirt, was holding his crotch with a trembling grip.

The jacket was already on the ground, and above all of that, you vision became blurry at the notice of his arousal. The evident, primal arousal that filled the cabin, that was radiating off him in steady waves.

His eyes bored into yours with an intensity you had never seen, but he didn’t move. It must have taken you a while to read all those tests. Failed test where they all died, the males’ heart giving out in each one. And the heart you greeded the most was threatening to give out in front of you.

“You need to leave” Azriel managed to say, his hand squeezing his cock painfully.

“Az”

Part of you seemed to be horrified at the situation. It was aware of the danger Azriel had just turned into, the order to your legs to run fast and steady ready. It was the part of you Azriel had liked, that had made him train you to be a spy.

The other part, he had created. Between soft touches and kisses. You didn’t need a name to know that you loved him, that he had given you everything when he had nothing. That part was terrified, too, yet seemed to scream in the opposite direction.

Neither of those parts seemed to come up with a solution.

“Don’t say my name. Leave” he couldn’t help the moan at your voice, his fingers quickly getting rid of the confines of his trousers. “Y/N, leave”

His cock spang free with little effort, and he jacked off with an impressive speed. Yet you had read also test 14th, where the male had tried to masturbate and hadn’t even lasted five minutes. Any other day, you would have melted at the sight of Azriel’s cock tall and proud in front of you. There was a steady drip of precum that seemed too eager, too early.

He had an impressive resistance, as you well knew. But his balls were almost purple, the veins along his shaft pulsing.

“If you don’t give in, you will die” you announced him, trying to keep your eyes on his. Your own core was starting to pulse with unwanted need. “None of them could do it on their own. And you’re not different”

“And none of the females live either, Y/N. Please, please” his voice broke at the end. His nostrils flared at your own smell, and his thighs tightened in an effort to keep still. “Run as far as you can, and take Truthteller with you. I can’t – with you, I… leave, please”

“There is one who made it”

The lie rolled off your tongue easily, and you knew Azriel was in too much pain and desperation to notice. Only a male had survived, after killing three women in a row. Your heart seemed to work on its own as you noticed the opportunity. Staying wasn’t the reasonable option, yet leaving him was no option at all.

“It might take a while, but we can make it. You need to fuck it out, and we have done it before”

“With consent!” he almost screamed, ending up in a frustrated moan. “I won’t touch you while this is in me. Either you leave or I – I’m gonna – Y/N”

His heart speeded even more if that was possible, and his hand flattered. How long had it been? You didn’t want to think about how long he could make it, how long he could resist it. But you were certain that he would die before touching you in that cabin.

Azriel had been denied of many choices and options in his life, and you knew how much he hated to have decisions taken from him. You watched the anger in his eyes as you stepped closer, unbuttoning your jeans.

With muscle memory, you stepped out of your confines and stepped up to him. Every part of Azriel was on edge, every nerve on his body screamed. And still, he didn’t touch you. Azriel stared with a silent plea in his eyes, a last warning.

“I can’t do this” Azriel begged. “Not to you, Y/N. Don’t make me do this”

“I won’t lose you”

Those were your last words before you snuck up your arms around his shoulders, forcibly lowering his head so you could lock your lips with him. One last act of normality before the drug took control over him. At that point, there was only one real objective in your mind, one coherent thought – don’t let the only light in your life die. Don’t let Azriel die because a stupid mistake.

You brushed your lips against his and didn’t show the surprise at his body temperature. He was burning, not only hot against the cold wind, but sickly hot. His skin was sweaty against your palms, his lips cracked already.

“It’s fine, Az” you whispered against his mouth. “I trust you”

Before you could blink or fully register the implications of your consent, you were turned around and pushed to the closest wall. Only Azriel hand on your forehead avoided the blow to your head.

His other hand wasted no time to roam through your body, already with enough pressure to leave bruises. It wasn’t the kindness you were used to, the love Azriel professed for you in every touch and caress. His touch was rough and brutal, and you didn’t know what to do with the pooling wetness at the thought.

It could have been tears of frustration or drops of sweat falling onto your shoulder, but Azriel didn’t let you turn around to check. As if looking into your eyes made it worse.

“Az” you moaned loudly when he found your center, trembling with the restrain. “The door, close the door”

He obeyed when his index finger pressed in you with enough pression to make your knees tremble. You only heard the sound of the door closing, maybe his shadows doing the work, as your eyes rolled back when he started fingering you as if it was your own pleasure who was making him mad.

Azriel rutted into your body from behind, growling like a feral animal. His hips pushed into you again and again, the hand holding your face into place lowering to your neck. He kept pushing his finger in and out of you, in a rush to make you wet enough to take him. It wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t for his size, that you were feeling in your lower back.

When you heard Azriel’s breath hitch, when you were sure he wouldn’t last another second with the drug speeding his heart, you urged him to continue.

“If it gets too much, kill me” Azriel whispered with the last remains of his self-control. “Promise me if it’s between me and you, you’ll kill me”

“We’re gonna be fine”

“Promise me”

You only nodded, and hoped he wouldn’t notice the second lie thrown his way.

His fingers left your entrance with a wet sound, and his cock replaced them. You were lifted a few inches with just one of his hands, your feet leaving the ground. Along the smell of both arousals and the sickening scent of the drug, you noticed the blood that peaked through the scratch on your naked chest.

The brief pain of the rough wood against them died down when Azriel finally pushed into you.

Azriel’s cock stretched you so much that, for a moment, you lost your breath. His body moved on its own accord, driven by the drug, and didn’t let you time to adjust. No matter how wet he had gotten you, it hurt. It hurt as he pistoled himself in and out, fast and hard. As he moaned and whined and screamed your name.

He fucked you so hard, yet you could see from the corner of your eye his fingers creating dents on the well. His sheer will was the only thing keeping him from killing you, according to the reports you had read previously.

You didn’t know for how long it went on, only that you came around his cock and he didn’t stop. He came minutes later, sputtering like a teenager with trembling knees, only to keep fucking you with the same strength.

It could have been minutes, or hours, yet the only thought you could focus on was that his heart was still beating, strong and steady. That you were alive and he was with you.

“I’m going to wreck you” Azriel panted, and his voice was only a distant sound in your haze of pain and pleasure. “Please kill me. Kill me before I do, Y/N”

It wasn’t a playful promise of two lovers, but a terrified pled from a drugged male. Azriel’s body was the only thing keeping you straight, his cock keeping his restless movement inside you. There were cuts all over your breast from how hard he was pushing you against the wall, yet he couldn’t stop.

The drug was so powerful, so primal, that he could only keep fucking you on and on.

Even if you wanted, you couldn’t have answered him. If felt like your throat had closed up long ago, only opening for moans or whines. The line between pain and pleasure was blurry all the time, and you didn’t know how much longer you could take it.

“Y/N. Y/N” he called your name as he emptied himself inside you once more – only to keep going a second after.

Your thighs were sticky with his cum and yours, cascading down your legs like a torrent. But the drug kept affecting his body, and he continued even when your body was too sore to handle it. You knew your tears would hurt him and break him into two, but you couldn’t control the overstimulation as you let them free fall your cheeks.

Azriel must have smelt them, the saltiness in the air, because for a moment the male was strong enough to slower his movements. You almost fell to the ground when he took a step back, his heart speeding all over again.

As if the last hours hadn’t meant nothing.

“Run” he whispered desperately, one of his hands furiously stroking his cock.

“I’m not leaving you here to die, Azriel” you managed to say. “Don’t make this harder”

You used the advantage of his self-control before it consumed, and turned around. You didn’t need to follow his gaze to the wounds on your chest, to the bruises with the form on his fingertips, to know they were there. The pain of Azriel’s action was making your mind dizzy.

Yet it was fuck or die. It was for him, whose eyes were still pitch black, his whole body covered in sweat. That you had managed to survive so long broke the records on that old notebook, and that alone would have been enough to make you consider how strong Azriel was.

But you couldn’t think about the pain he must have been in, only dried your tears on your forearm. More threatened to fall because you were tired. You wanted to stop and go back a few hours ago, burn that place down before it was too late. Still, you knew you couldn’t do that.

“I trust you, okay?” you reminded him as Azriel’s own eyes became glossy. “We can make it out. You just need to endure through and try not to kill me in the meantime. We can do it”

You weren’t as confident as before, but you didn’t have time to consider it. With your enhanced hearing, you could hear his heart. It had slowed down from that frenetic, dangerous point at the beginning, but it wasn’t safe still. At any moment, it would give up and you couldn’t phantom that thought.

So, with a trembling hand, you replaced his hand on his cock with yours. He had finished three times already, a fourth time when you used your other hand to squeezed his balls. They emptied on your stomach, precum flowing as soon as he finished.

“I’m so sorry” Azriel admitted, and your breath hitched as you kept stroking him.

It wasn’t enough, the drug made him need to be inside a woman. But it was giving you time to regain your breath, hug his shoulders once more and let him lower you to the ground.

-

Gaining back consciousness was a long process, that took you a few minutes. First it was the notice of the snow beneath your body, and on you. Flakes fell from the sky and covered your hair and nose, your naked feet. It should have made you cold, but you were warm.

Then it was the soreness that hug every inch of you, from your legs to your shoulders, even your neck. Your throat felt dry and it took you a few tries to open your eyes. When you did, you were met with white.

White ground, white sky, white trees. You frowned at your surroundings before the last events caught up with you, and your body perked up with panic.

Finally, you noticed Azriel’s body draped over yours. He was still inside you, one of his hands cupping your cheek. As you turned to look at him, you saw frozen tears on his cheeks, a sight so rare yet beautiful that broke the last of your stupor away.

“Az” you croaked out, more of a groan than a word.

You weren’t cold because his body and wings were a blanket against the weather. He too was unconscious, covered in snow. The last hours were blurry, only him and his body and the persistent need to hold on. You remembered his body heat, you suggesting the snow to lower it – and the cabin crumbling under his power as he came inside you once more.

One of your hands rose to his cheek, and you watched with morbid fascination the paleness on your fingertips, almost blue. You were far too tired to care about it, the edge of your consciousness slipping away once more.

“We should go” you muttered, tapping those frozen fingers against his cheek. His head just rolled back.

You tried to listen to his heart, to make sure he was alive and had survived the drug. But you blacked out before you could worry about it.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @starsinyourseyes , @bakananya , @tele86 , @lilah-asteria

#imaginemai #imaginesmai #acotar #acotar fic #acotar imagine #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #x reader #one shot #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #shadowsinger x reader #shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #imagine #fic #fanfic #smut

[angelltheninth]

Meeting and Treating an Injured Mizu

Pairing: Mizu x Reader

Tags: fluff, angst, blood, injury, first meeting, developing a crush, showing off, kissing, literal sleeping together

A/N: I love her a lot, I can't get her out of my head.

You were getting ready to sleep when you heard hard banging sounds on your door. Since it was late at night you suspected trouble, not someone being in trouble. The last thing you suspected was an injured!Mizu covered in blood, with an equally bloody sword collapsing into your arms. You heard about the blue eyed samurai but you figured it was just a tale, that it wasn't a real person but there she was, bleeding out in your arms.

When she wakes up the first thing she does is look for her sword to defend herself with. You wouldn't dream keeping it from her but you also didn't leave it by her side for this exact reason. As grateful as injured!Mizu is that you helped her she had no plans to stick around. There are a lot of powerful people hunting her, and you're just a civilian, you shouldn't deal with her problems.

You weren't even supposed to see her, she wanted to... burrow your horse and leave, but as luck would have it the horse got away from her, which then lead injured!Mizu to waking you up. It may have been a bad strategy but with how much blood she lost she did good walking all this way.

Injured!Mizu insists that she can leave right away, just give her a clean set of bandages and she'll be out of here. She's surprised when you told her to stay a while. Well she has to repay you for scaring off your horse of course, you're not letting her off the hook that easily. That would make you a very poor healer. While she's here she needs to follow your rules.

As annoyed as injured!Mizu is with you she can't deny that you patched her up pretty good. And you are a healer so you'll probably do a better job then her too. Quickly shows how stubborn she truly, slapping your hand away when you try to take a look at her wounds and saying she can unwrap the bandages herself, you just need to apply the medicine. She keeps her guard up around you even with a fever, always glancing at her sword.

Despite her injuries she's still up early every morning to train but she doesn't use her sword but it's scabbard as per your orders. It's lighter and there's less ways for her to injure herself if she begins to feel sick. When injured!Mizu notices that you're watching her with great interest she smiles to herself, amused that you could look at her in awe when she's used her techniques to kill people. But she suspects you already know that.

When she gets a little better she starts to chop wood for the fire, for cooking, for warmth, early in the morning. Injured!Mizu can still wield an axe with one hand, although that isn't that odd when you take into a count that she's in really good shape. You try not to stare too long though, that wouldn't be appropriate, she's a stranger and on top of that she's a patient.

Before she got better you used to eat together in silence but after she got better injured!Mizu got a bit more talkative. She kept her past and most of her identity hidden but she talked about her travels to many towns and villages and the people she's met. Most of her stories end with her getting in a fight and having to leave. Hopefully she leaves on good terms with you.

You notice that she has trouble sleeping and despite her insisting otherwise you manage to talk her into sharing your bed. Injured!Mizu is scared she might bleed all over your bed, and you if her wounds open up. However you can tell by the blush on her cheeks that there's more to it than that. Given how she never mentioned dating anyone you assume she hasn't slept next to many people. She hardly sleeps at all the first night, only on the third does she begin to relax a little.

A big part of you wishes injured!Mizu stayed longer, but a week is already too much for her while she's on the run. She's grateful, she really is, you're a wonderful person and she's lucky she feel into your arms, but she can't stay forever. This is for your own good too, your own safety.

Injured!Mizu may not have had many crushes but she can tell that you've been giving her heart eyes while she was working. Of course she'd notice you staring, she probably has heightened senses too. Since you're crushing on her would you take a kiss on the cheek as payment? Mind you this is a once in a life time thing. So rare. How could you say no to such an offer?

When others arrive asking about injured!Mizu, about a blue eyed samurai passing by here you tell them you've seen someone like that in the past few days. But of course when they ask not only do you ask for payment, enough to buy yourself a new horse but you also point them in the opposite direction.

#blue eye samurai #mizu #bes #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #bes x reader #blue eye samurai imagine #mizu imagine #bes imagine #blue eye samurai headcanons #mizu headcanons #bes headcanons #blue eye samurai fluff #x reader

[ozzgin]

Would the Yandere monster and reader have kids? 🥺

Tw: mentions of pregnancy and birth

Sure, it might even be an expected duty for him to provide heirs to the royal family. The real question is how pleasant the birthing experience will be. Are they going to be full humans? Monsters? Halflings? If so, which are the inherited monstrous parts? I don’t know about you, but being stabbed in the uterus by the keratinous horns of a beastly fetus doesn’t sound too cozy. We’re going back to the not so nice parts about monster fucking but with realistic biology.

Then again, I did say the mother-in-law is just a halfling. One has to wonder how she managed to deliver your husband.

Edit: my partner has reminded me that horse hooves are soft while in the womb, so the same logic could apply to monstrous hard parts.

#yandere monster #at least it’s not chestbursters I guess

[xechowritesx]

made for lovin' you || e.m.

summary → after years of silently pining for your best friend, you finally accept a date at your favorite dive bar. but things never go as planned, do they? alternatively, jealous eddie, too many whiskey shots, and a friendship shattering, almost confession that leads to some delicious smut.

word count → 5.9K (yeah, yeah, i'm a wordy bitch, idk what to tell y'all).

warnings → insufferable pining (a real idiots to lovers), cursing, fucking in the back of eddie's van, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, please!), squirting, daddy kink.

extras → don't really have an excuse of this other than i'm entirely whipped by this man. as always, please give me some feedback! comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated and the askbox is open for requests!

“i literally have nothing to wear.” you protest, for what feels like the hundredth time, sighing heavily with disappointment.

still, you continue shuffling through your rather small selection of clothing, grimacing at the apparent lack of options whilst hoping something suitable will magically manifest itself.

“then don’t go.” eddie immediately suggests, half-chuckling. you brush his comment off with a roll of your eyes, trying instead to focus on putting together a semi-decent outfit. 

to say that eddie had been uncharacteristically awkward lately was, in fact, the understatement of the century. the shift in his behavior had began shortly after you agreed to go on a date with none other that jason carver’s right hand man, andy.

from the moment you’d accepted the invitation, eddie had come up with an impressive amount of reasons as to why you had to cancel - it was dumb to start a relationship with graduation just around the corner, andy would undoubtedly try to take advantage of you, and maybe this was all just a mean prank concocted by jason and the entirety of the basketball team.

in turn, you’d done a pretty decent job refuting each and every one of his incessant pleas to bail, somehow managing to produce reasonable, well-thought out rebuttals. but a small fraction of your mind couldn’t help but wonder if there was an ulterior motive behind eddie’s seemingly legitimate concerns.

could it be that eddie was jealous? that the thought of you with another man frustrated him? just as quickly as you had begun to contemplate the idea, you shoved the thoughts to the back of your mind, rationalizing that he was simply being an overprotective best friend. besides, now was certainly not the time to contemplate your rather confusing relationship with eddie.

“oh my god!” you gasped excitedly, a face-splitting grin forming on your lips. you'd finally found your long-lost, favorite pair of leopard pants tossed just behind your laundry hamper.

“what happened?” eddie queried at your sudden excitement. 

“i know what i’m gonna wear!” you giggled, collecting a few additional items from your closet. “i’ll be right back!” you added, hurriedly exiting your bedroom.

the trailer you shared with your mother was similar to eddie's and, arguably, far too small for the pair of you. the bathroom, of course, was no different. you shuffled into it sideways, leaning back to shut the door and making quick work of removing your clothes in the cramped space. as you shrugged out of the oversized metallica shirt that hung from your shoulders, you silently wondered where you’d acquired it from, though you were almost certain you’d stolen it from eddie the last time you'd helped him with his laundry.

you quickly slipped into your pants, before tugging on one of your all time favorite belts. you proceeded to squeeze into the only push-up bra you owned and slid into a cropped, black tank top. you took a moment, then, to touch up your makeup - you reapplied some powder, refreshed your black liner, and swiped on mascara. you ultimately decided on a deep, crimson red lipstick, applying it carefully onto your lips. satisfied with your appearance, you head back to your bedroom.

“well, what do ya think?” you ask, hands fidgeting behind your back.

eddie sits at the very edge of your unmade bed, leaning forward and resting his head between his hands. at the sound of your voice, he perks up and takes a moment to inspect your outfit.

his big, doe eyes somehow look larger than ever as he takes in your appearance, slowly raking over every curve and indent of your body. he notes that you’ve opted for an outfit that accentuates your curves, a noticeable shift from your usual repertoire of oversized band tees and hoodies.

you're clad a cropped, black AC/DC tank top that displays a considerable amount of cleavage and skin tight leopard pants that hug your hips and ass firmly. the ornate chain belt you’ve chosen draws attention to your snatched waist as well as your exposed midriff. eddie swallows thickly before meeting your eyes once again. 

“you tryin’ to get laid tonight?” the question falls from his lips teasingly, as he effortlessly shifts back to his usual, flirty persona. “cuz you look good enough to eat.” he adds with a mischievous smirk. 

“yeah, yeah, keep it in your pants, munson.” you joke in response, actively choosing to ignore the butterflies that have formed in the pit of your stomach.

you watch as eddie pushes up onto his feet, easily towering over you as he closes the distance between you, substantially. you look up at him, swallowing back the faint desire to kiss him, silently wondering why you had agreed to this stupid date in the first place.

“i'm gonna give you a ride,” he doesn’t give you the opportunity to decline, “there’s no way i'm letting you get in a cab lookin’ this good.” he adds. 

your relationship with eddie was confusing and nearly impossible to describe, especially in moments like these - caught somewhere between friendly teasing and aggressive flirting. in fact, it'd been this way for as long as you could remember. you definitely weren't dating nor were you lovers, but calling him just a friend felt utterly and completely insufficient.

neither of you ever really acknowledged or discussed the odd dynamic you shared, choosing instead to remain in an uncomfortable in-between; a perpetual game of "will they, won't they" that drove everyone that had the misfortune of being around you absolutely insane.

and, to be perfectly frank, that’s likely why you had accepted such a random date invitation. you were tired, exhausted even, of pining after eddie, year after year, to no avail. graduation was indeed just around the corner, and after giving eddie what felt like plenty of opportunities to make a move, you’d grown incredibly frustrated. you were convinced he did not reciprocate your feelings and that it was finally time to move on. 

“whatever you say...” you wink, turning on your heel and heading toward the front door. 

eddie watches as you shuffle through the living room, shrugging into a cropped leather jacket he’s sure belongs to your mother. he’s entirely mesmerized by the sway of your hips, inhaling sharply as you bend at the waist to slip into a pair of black platform boots. the position gives him a fantastic view of your ass, one that will no doubt remain etched in his memory for the weeks come. he coughs to shove down the heat that rises up his neck, cramming his hands into the pockets of his jeans to keep himself from reaching for you.

“ready?” you smile, looking back to find eddie already looking at you.

there’s an expression strewn across his features that you can’t quite decipher.

“uh, yeah, let’s go.” 

the walk to eddie's trailer takes less than a minute, his beat-up van parked crookedly as always. you smile, happy not only to save yourself a cab fare but also to spend a little extra time with eddie. no doubt, his familiar and comforting presence will work to steady your ever increasing nerves. 

you both slide into the van with practiced familiarity, a pleasant silence forming between you. as eddie pulls out of the trailer park, you’re already skimming through the expansive music selection nestled in the glove compartment. you easily find the mixtape you’re searching for, one you’d made for him on his birthday a few months ago, handing it over with a pretty please. though eddie’s eyes remain trained on the road ahead, he obliges, taking the tape and slotting it into the player.

the ride to downtown isn’t particularly long but eddie still manages to drag it out as much as he possibly can without drawing suspicion. he drives just under the speed limit, braking as soon as he spots a yellow light, and taking his time at every turn and speed bump. you're entirely unaware, focused instead on adjusting your hair, humming along to the music, and observing the passing scenery. eddie side-eyes you casually, enthralled by your beauty, struggling to formulate a single, believable excuse to turn the car around.

much to his dismay, eddie comes up with nothing, left with no choice but to pull into the dingy parking lot behind the hideout. it's a shitty little dive bar, favored by the older teens of hawkins for its lack of supervision. simply put, as long as you looked of age, ID checks were omitted all together. you had eagerly agreed to meet andy here for your date, the prospect of a couple free drinks and some dancing at your favorite bar enticing you. 

as the engine comes to a stop, you realize you’re about fifteen minutes early. eddie hopes you'll wait with him in the car, giving him a few extra moments to come up with something to say. instead, he finds himself cursing internally as he watches you unbuckle and start exiting the van.

“thanks for the ride, munson!” you smile widely, an air of excitement radiating off you. 

“anytime, princess.” eddie responds, matching your smile weakly. “keep an eye on your drinks. and be safe!” he urges.

“always am!” you remind him, giving him a small wave and making your way toward the bar’s entrance. 

what little nerves you’d felt up to this point increase tenfold as you enter the hideout, hands suddenly clammy and hot. you look around to see if andy has arrived and, much to your relief, he has not. this gives you an opportunity to get yourself settled and pound a few drinks to calm your nerves. 

you survey the seated bar area, opting to claim two seats at the very corner, with an excellent vantage point of the entire bar. lloyd, the sole bartender on friday evenings, approaches you with a gentle smile. he's middle aged and incredibly kind, happy to see a familiar face.

“why hello there, pretty lady.” he greets you, as he always does, placing two coasters onto the wooden bar. “i'm assuming you're waitin' for someone?” he adds, motioning to the empty stool you've positioned beside you.

you nod.

“i've got a date.” you explain, wiggling your brows excitedly. lloyd chuckles.

"well, i can't wait to meet the lucky fella.” he grins. “shall i get you the usual while you wait?”

"yes please!" you smile.

by the time lloyd asks if you want a refill, it’s 9:17 PM and andy still hasn't arrived.

and, while there’s slight pity in his tone, lloyd remains as sweet and attentive as ever. he reassures you that he’ll bring you as many refills as you’d like and even goes as far as to offer you a plate of nachos, free of charge. you politely decline, rationalizing to yourself that basketball practice probably ran late and that andy would arrive at any moment. after all, he was only running seventeen minutes behind. and though lloyd nods in agreement, you can’t help the total humiliation you feel. 

each minute feels god damn near eternal, ticking by slowly and tauntingly. your nerves and excitement steadily morph into a sinking feeling that you’ve been stood up. 

it had all felt too good to be true - a conventionally attractive jock asking you out, whilst you were clad in a hellfire club t-shirt and sat next to the recently acquitted murder suspect and town pariah, eddie munson, who you happened to call your best friend.

still, you had agreed to the date, undoubtedly encouraged to do so both by your high consumption of cheesy rom-coms and the burning desire to finally get over eddie. your thoughts spiral, uncontrollably, as you remember how hard eddie had tried to dissuade from this date. you realize, suddenly, he’d been trying to protect you from precisely this outcome.

by 9:32 PM, you shamefully begin collecting your belongings and tossing some cash onto the bar, when you’re interrupted by a familiar voice.

“sorry i’m late, sweetheart.” eddie makes a big show of apologizing, his voice loud enough for everyone in a considerable distance from you to hear.

actually, you’re sure the entire bar hears.

“eddie…” though you're surprised by his sudden appearance, you can’t help the smile of relief that moves across your lips as you look up to meet his eyes. you take him in, fully, noticing he’s shed his earlier casual look for one that’s a little more dressed up.

he's clad in a deep burgundy button up, which remains undone dangerously low, revealing much of his pale, tattooed chest. it's tucked into a pair of black skinny jeans that cling to him in all the right ways. he's topped off the look with his usual worn out leather jacket, matching black leather boots, and his signature silver rings. you finally manage to tear your gaze away from his body and meet his eyes. 

“like what you see?” he teases, with a wiggle of his brows as he slides into the stool beside yours. he casually wraps his arm around the back of your stool and you unconsciously lean into him, happy to feel the warmth radiating from his frame. 

“you know i do.” you manage to tease back, licking your lips as you speak. “will do a shot with me?” you add, looking up at him through your lashes. you do your best to look adorable, pouting your lip in the way you always do when you want something.

“whatever ya want, princess.” eddie is smiling, radiantly, and calling over lloyd. 

one shot turns into several. you find yourself happily wrapped in eddie’s arms, swaying rhythmically on the makeshift dance floor in the center of the bar.

eddie's massive hands are warm on your waist, guiding you with ease to the beat that reverberates from the massive speakers. in turn, your arms are wrapped around his neck, fingers absentmindedly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. while you’re certainly not drunk, there’s a noticeable, warm buzz thrumming through your body, one that’s gently dulled the ache of having been stood up. though, you suppose that eddie also had something to do with it.

“how’d ya know i got stood up?” you ask curiously, realizing that eddie had arrived out of the blue, with near impeccable timing.

“what do you mean?” he looks down at you with confusion. you roll your eyes. 

“you showed up without me calling,” you explain, “so i’m wondering how you knew andy never showed." 

“ah,” eddie pauses, he hesitates, briefly, “i actually had no idea you’d been stood up.” your curiosity quickly turns to confusion.

“then why did you show up?” 

there’s a brief, noticeable lull in the conversation as eddie quietly contemplates his response. you feel him tug you closer, his gaze meeting yours almost sheepishly. 

“i was fully intending on crashing your date.” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. “had a whole speech and everything.” 

“you were gonna crash my date?” your mind is suddenly racing, heart beating faster and faster with each word. “why?”

eddie sighs heavily, wondering how you could be so impossibly oblivious. what little courage he’d managed to muster up until this point begins to leave his body, abruptly so. he stops swaying, stilling the both of you. his hands remain firmly on your waist as his bottom lip tugs between his teeth. 

“don’t make me say it.” eddie pleas, softly, eyes wide and affectionate. “you know why.” he tries, leaning impossibly closer, his lips mere centimeters from your own.

his eyes remain trained on yours, a faint smile across his features as he lovingly watches the gears turning in your mind. 

oh. 

oh. 

the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, knocking the very air out of your lungs. it happening. it's finally, fucking happening.

eddie doesn't give you much time to contemplate or process what he's essentially almost confessed, instead, he's pressing his lips tentatively against your own. his movements are gentle and unsure, almost as if he's testing the limits. but his lips, god, his lips - they're soft and plush, yet still firm as they press into yours.

you hesitate, only momentarily, as your brain short-circuits. all the while, eddie's grinning against your lips, using your surprise to his advantage. he takes the lead, with confident ease, using the opportunity to find his way past your lips. his tongue is warm as it teasingly drags against yours, his slender fingers pressing and exploring the exposed skin of your midriff.

you're breathless, trying to keep up with eddie, using your hands to find purchase in his frizzy, messy curls. eddie grunts as you tug, delving into your mouth with such fervor it's as if you're the very source of oxygen keeping him alive. a low moan escapes you as his hands move to your ass, only to be interrupted by lloyd's disgruntled voice.

"ay! ay! lovebirds!" lloyd shouts, instantly catching your attention. you break apart, managing to steal a glance at eddie as you do - he's all smiles and sparkling eyes. meanwhile, you can feel yourself turning several shades of cartoonish red that feel humanly impossible.

"yeah?" eddie chuckles, nervously shifting his weight between the balls of his feet. he keeps an arm around your waist, holding you to his side.

"as happy as i am to finally see you two together," lloyd confesses fondly, motioning between you, "let's keep it family friendly, yeah?"

you snort, left hand shooting up to your mouth in a vain attempt to hold back your laughter. eddie's just as giddy, a ball of energy, practically vibrating beside you, waiting to explode.

"my bad, lloyd!" you try, offering him the most innocent smile you can manage. eddie watches you with nothing but adoration as you wave a hand apologetically in lloyd's direction.

"yeah, we were just about to head out, actually." eddie announces, smiling like a bumbling idiot. he's quick to take your hand, intertwining your fingers effortlessly, as he guides you toward the bar.

without so much as another word, eddie is tossing several bills down onto the bar and gathering your belongings. you follow suit, mindlessly so, entirely enthralled by his presence. even now, as he's half-rushing you out the door, eyes as wild as his hair, there's a radiance about him that sends butterflies bursting through your stomach.

"slow down!" you giggle, half-stumbling over your feet as you trail behind eddie. he's eagerly making a beeline for the van, turning back and smiling at you in a way that makes it impossible to be mad at him.

"slow down?" eddie repeats in disbelief, as if you've just asked him the most ridiculous question he's ever heard. "i've been wanting to kiss you for as long as i can remember, y/n," he confesses, nearly out of breath, "gonna need more."

for a second time that evening, eddie's words have left you completely and utterly speechless. he ushers you carefully into the back of his van, shutting the doors behind himself, and climbing over your form. you fall back onto a disarray of discarded clothing and blankets strewn about, leaning back onto your elbows to really look at him. he hovers, briefly, almost as if awaiting permission.

"think i've been waiting just as long, eddie." you admit, like a blushing school girl.

eddie's smiling as you're speaking, chuckling before he's closing the space between you. his movements are deliberate, now, as he presses against you in a bruising kiss that sends electricity shooting through both your bodies. it's all tongue and teeth, with clumsy hands eagerly exploring new territory. your legs wrap around his waist as he slots himself between them, his mouth moving past your lips. he kisses your skin as he descends down the line of your jaw and settles at the crook of your neck.

the sounds that leave your mouth are sinful, shit, they're down right poronographic, and eddie can't get enough. he attaches himself to your neck, sucking, nibbling, and marking your skin with love bites and bruises. your nails dig into his shoulder blades and he can't help but rut himself against you, his erection growing with each moan and whimper he's able to draw from your lips.

"eddie..." you're gasping for breath, completely and unabashedly wrecked.

if it were anyone else, you'd be ashamed of how desperate you sound. but it's you, and it's eddie, and it's years of pinning and wishing and hoping finally coming to fruition.

"don't worry, i gotcha, princess." eddie promises against your abused skin, making his way back up to your lips.

eddie kisses you with a sense of urgency that has you absolutely buzzing, your body arching up into his, begging for more. he steadies you with shaky hands, his movements revealing he's just as desperate as you feel. his chest is rising and falling rapidly with ragged breaths, his warm, inviting pupils blown wide with lust.

every touch, every kiss, every sensation is far better than any dream or fantasy your imagination has concocted over the years. and by the way eddie's erection remains firmly pressed into your inner thigh, you know the sentiment is mutual. he unexpectedly pulls back, fully separating your bodies, and taking a brief moment to commit you to memory. he sits back on his heels, frantically pushing the hair out of his eyes to carefully observe you.

you're a complete mess - red lipstick and runny mascara smeared across your skin, lips swollen and wet from kissing. your hair is sprawled around you, like a makeshift crown of sorts, chest heaving with broken breathing. eddie decides, then and there, that you are the most beautiful person he has ever had the privilege of knowing.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you're hyper-aware of his gaze, the way his eyes move up and down your body.

"because i'm so fucking in love with you." eddie concedes, with a playful chuckle and goofy grin across his lips. you're positive your heart finally bursts at his words, a face-splitting grin moves across your lips.

"do remember freshman year, when i confessed i liked the beatles and you learned hey jude because it was my favorite song?" your question catches him entirely off-guard, yet he nods, remembering all too well. "that's when i knew i was in love with you. still am. not sure why i agreed to this date." you ramble, hiding your face behind your hands.

eddie is quick to remove them, pecking kisses across your cheeks, down your nose, and onto your lips. these kisses are different than before, playful and immature. he's smiling as he continues the attack on your face, eyes gleaming in a way you'd never seen before.

"this isn't ideal," eddie hesitates, nervous and unsure. "we're in the back of my shitty van, it smells like weed and my dirty laundry, and we've been sucking face like horny teenagers." he pauses, briefly, as you both laugh. "but i mean it, y/n." he struggles to repeat his earlier confession, but quickly realizes he doesn't have to. not when you're smiling up at him, nodding with a knowing expression.

"i know, eds." you reassure him, reaching up to caress his face in an affectionate gesture. he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. "but if you don't fuck me soon, i'm gonna think you're lying and ask andy out on a second date." you add, playful as ever.

"jesus fucking christ, y/n!" eddie's grunting and laughing, already leaning into you. "you're gonna be the death of me."

you watch, eagerly and without protest, as eddie positions himself comfortably between your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist. his hands find you like pulling magnets, holding you tightly and tugging you into him as he finally reunites your lips.

you both move frantically, now, having finally acknowledged the unspoken feelings between you. and eddie becomes a man possessed, his tongue delving into your mouth, exploring and asserting dominance with ease. he begins dry humping you in earnest, his thrusts matching the rhythm of lips.

"eddie," you moan, "please." your hands tug at his shirt as you grind your hips up to meet each of his thrusts.

it's entirely embarrassing to contemplate, but you're absolutely soaked, cunt clenching around nothing as you move in perfect tandem with eddie, chasing the pleasure that begins to invade your senses.

"please, what?" he hums against your lips, expertly guiding your movements.

despite the layers of clothing separating you, eddie's cock somehow manages to catch your clit with each thrust. your head involuntarily lulls back, eyes fluttering closed as eddie gradually increases the speed of his thrusts.

"tell me what you need, baby girl." he instructs, watching hungrily as your expression contorts in pleasure. the sounds and expressions you make are so much better than anything he's ever imagined and he hasn't even made you cum yet.

"please..." you repeat, again and again, like a broken prayer, unable to form a coherent response. you figure he'll understand, leaning forward to find his lips.

instead, eddie quickly and harshly tugs you back by the hair, looking down at you with a dimpled smirk that sends waves of anticipation and arousal coursing through your frame.

"use your words, princess." eddie tuts, licking his lips as he halts his movements all together.

you whine as he holds you in place, entirely still, audibly protesting as he hovers above you. the sudden lack of contact is unbearably sobering and you find yourself trying to grind back up into him. he only chuckles, holding you in place with ease, watching you expectantly. his hands are firm against your waist, powerful even, and you're positive you'll have marks in the morning. the thought thrills you.

"no more until you use your words, pretty girl." eddie insists. "you gotta tell me what you need."

"need you to touch me." you're gasping as you speak, struggling against eddie's unrelenting grip. he smirks. "need you to fuck me, eds."

the way you say his name, so fucking wrecked, the way you look up at him, with lust-blown eyes, it's all too much.

finally, and much to your relief, eddies relents and resumes kissing you. he shifts his attention, however, nestling himself between your legs and kissing his way down your body. you're practically writhing beneath him, hands carding through his curls, trying to gain purchase.

"eds, baby, please." you whine as his mouth latches onto the skin just beside your navel, sucking and biting hungrily. his nimble fingers make quick work of your chain belt, finding the waistband of your pants and tugging impatiently.

"up." eddie grunts, tapping your hips. you oblige, leaning back onto your shoulder blades so that he can remove your pants. "are you fucking kidding me?" eddie groans in lustful disbelief at realization that you're not wearing any panties. he very nearly creams himself as he rips the leopard pants off your body and tosses the offending material aside with little care.

before you can fully comprehend what's happening, eddie is alternating between kissing your inner thighs and dragging his tongue slowly over your heated skin. you're jerking at the sensation, tugging his hair impatiently, trying to keep what little of your sanity you have left.

"oh my god..." you breathe, brokenly, as eddie presses his thumb experimentally against your clit. he circles the bundle of nerves slowly, mouth still working up and down your thighs, as he sets an unforgiving pace.

"can i taste you?" he looks up at you with those big doe eyes, licking his lips in what can only be described as hunger. you're nodding, furiously, because you don't trust your voice.

eddie finally dips down and laps at your folds, tongue hot and heavy as it teases your hole. he showers you with affection, kissing and sucking every inch of your pussy as his index finger pushes into you. he finally wraps his lips around your clit, sucking the nub deliciously, and pushes a second finger into you.

you're sliding your fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots, knees buckling as you grow weaker with each of his movements. he reads you like a book, alternating between lapping at your hole and sucking your clit, curling and scissoring his fingers expertly inside you, pushing you steadily toward orgasm. you're so incredibly worked up you're practically vibrating around his fingers, walls clenching and contracting.

eddie's fingers are dragging inside you, pushing and pulling all at once, steadily firm with pressure. he bends and pushes them down just right, working tirelessly to help you climax. in turn, you've lost all sense of your surroundings, repeating his name like mantra, over and over, nearly choking.

"eddie, eds, i'm so close..." you manage, tears brimming your eyes as your stomach tightens with familiar pressure.

eddie doesn't back off, no, instead, he's increasing his pace. his swollen lips drag over your folds as he alternates between wrapping himself around your clit and showing love to your entrance. you're hips move of their own accord, riding his tongue, thighs wrapping tightly around his head.

you climax, screaming eddie's name loud enough to wake the dead. his hands on your waist are the only thing grounding you in reality, a firm reminder this isn't all some incredibly vivid daydream. your body is limp and entirely overwhelmed, head rolling back and eyes fluttering closed. eddie watches your thighs, still shaking, as he laps up the remnants of your orgasm.

"god fucking damn it," you chuckle, "that was the best orgasm of my life." eddie smirks, entirely satisfied with how thoroughly he's made you fall apart.

"best orgasm of your life?" eddie repeats, chin and mouth glistening with a mixture of your arousal and climax. he's never looked hotter.

you reach out for eddie, despite the exhaustion you feel, palming his erection through the fabric of his jeans. you're applying just the right amount of pressure to the underside of his cock and eddie's twitching, rutting and thrusting against your hand, taking any relief he can get from you.

"still need you to fuck me, eds." you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes.

there's a shift in the atmosphere, the air thick with anticipation.

eddie's nodding mindlessly, hands fumbling awkwardly with his belt and jeans. you giggle as you help him, tugging the material and aiding him as he kicks off his boots, followed by his jeans, and briefs. a small gasp falls form your lips at the sight of eddie's unclothed cock, long and hard, slightly curved to the left.

"you ready for me, baby girl?" eddie smiles down at you, gently. you're absolutely beaming in post-orgasm glow, nodding eagerly.

eddie leans down and finds you lips yet again, taking you in a gentle and passionate kiss. as his tongue explores your mouth, he drags the head of his dick up and down your soaking folds, collecting as much slick as he can before he's pushing against your entrance. you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him as close as you can, legs wrapping around his waist.

a guttural moan leaves the both of you as eddie begins sliding into you, his thick, hard length dragging deliciously deeper and deeper into you. despite your previous climax, your walls still struggle to take him in, stretching to accept his impressive size.

"god, you feel so fucking good." eddie emphasizes, his voice almost unrecognizable, deep and destroyed. he stills himself, once he's at the hilt, giving your body an opportunity to adjust.

you're grateful for the reprieve he offers you, shakily breathing through the dull pain, inhaling and exhaling as your body gets used to the feeling of eddie inside you. he's buried himself in the crook of your neck, cursing against your skin, throbbing inside you.

"you okay, y/n?" eddie asks, you grind your hips up in response.

"eddie, move, please."

eddie, ever the gentleman, obliges, setting a slow, passionate pace. his thrusts are gentle and loving, every inch of his cock deliberate and calculated. and while his pace is slow, it's powerful nonetheless. the finesse of his hips has you moaning, creating tight knots in the pit of your stomach once more.

"faster, need you to move faster." you beg, chasing the feeling of pleasure that crashes through you.

"i gotcha, y/n, i gotcha." eddie hums, increasing both the speed and force of his thrusts.

the van shakes at eddie's sheer force, the windows fogged, air humid. his hips are relentless, the sound of your slick folds and his balls slapping against your cunt intermingling and resounding loudly all around you. your body reacts favorably to the new pace, convulsing with sheer ecstasy. eddie's grunting and cursing as your pussy sucks him in, swallowing him whole with each thrust and contracting around him. he's driving you back with each thrust, the top of your head making repeated contact with the center console between the driver and passenger seats.

"i'm getting close..." you moan, nails digging into eddie's shoulder blades.

"don't cum until i fucking tell you," eddie commands, finding your gaze, "wait for daddy."

that word, so filthy and dirty, falling from eddie's swollen, bruised lips, as he's balls deep inside you, sends you into overdrive. you're silently talking yourself down, gripping onto eddie, forcefully trying to keep yourself from climaxing. eddie, in turn, only grows more unhinged, chasing his own high, hitching your right leg onto his left shoulder.

"almost there, baby girl, i'm close." eddie reassures you between grunts and there's tears streaming down your face.

"need to cum, daddy, please." you're sobbing now, voice ragged and hoarse.

eddie can feel you shaking against him, body contorting, desperate to feel release. you're arching up against him, harder with each thrust, tits pressing deliciously into his chest. he slots a hand between your bodies, finding your clit with ease and swirling his thumb sinfully against it.

"cum for me, y/n." eddie finally allows, thrusts growing sloppier and infinitely more primal. "say my name."

"eddie!" you're screaming, like a goddamn banshee as your climax hits. you tighten and clamp down around eddie's cock, squirting your release all over yourself and eddie.

"fuck...." the feeling is unlike anything eddie has ever experienced and it shocks him to the core. his thrusts stutter, momentarily, before he's spilling into you, hot, white cum filling you deliciously. he rides out his orgasm, worsening your sensitivity, watching you in disbelief as he finally stills his hips.

"that was..." you try, eddie pecking your lips lovingly.

"that was definitely the best orgasm of your life." he chuckles, smirking. "and mine."

before you get an opportunity to respond, the back door of the van is being tugged open and eddie is scrambling to cover your exposed body.

"freak, have you seen-" you scream with surprise, eyes widening at the sight of a horrified andy looking on. "what the fuck, y/n?" andy's shouting now, too, covering his eyes as he swings shut and slams the van door.

you look up at eddie and you're both bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, cheeks red with a mixture of embarrassment and post-coital exertion. you cannot believe that andy actually showed up, nearly an hour and half late, to find you naked and tangled between eddie's legs.

"should i chase after him and ask him for a second date?" you joke, gently pushing back a few stray curls from eddie's eyes.

"yeah right," eddie bites back, grinning, "as if i'd share my girl with that jackass."

eddie falls, entirely spent, beside you, tugging you into his chest and wrapping an arm protectively around your shoulders. you, in turn, wrap an arm around his waist and lay on his chest, craning your neck to look up at him.

"your girl?"

"yeah," eddie is beaming, "my girl."

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things smut #reader insert #smut #got a little carried away with this one lol #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader

[krypticcafe]

i wanna know how u think 141 + König & Alejandro would react/feel about reader doing this trend with them, ofc reader doesn't upload it or anything they just record it for fun :]

if the link doesn't work the trend is basically a person is putting on lipstick and they "mess up" and their s/o wipes it off for them and the camera pans to their s/o covered in kissmarks

this has been on my mind for a while i think its so sweet 🥲 i lovelovelove ur writing!! its so good lik oml <33

Lipstick trend w/COD:MWII men

rating: teen

character(s): Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Hound König, Alejandro Vargas / GN!Reader

warning(s): language, suggestiveness

wordcount: ~1.6k

summary: Silly little lipstick trend with your silly little military boyfriend.

a/n: the money I'd pay to kiss these men dizzy.

Gaz

Knew about the trend for a while, was wondering if you'd do it, so it's not much of a surprise when you come to him asking about it.

Honestly, he thinks it's a little cheesy, but he's not so insecure that he doesn't want to do it, he's happy to make you happy.

Literally won't stop teasing you like "You sure you're doing this just for the trend?" when you're smooching him all over his face.

When you're done, you can't but stare for a bit.

"What, too pretty for words, love?"

"Shut up, Garrick."

"Make me."

Now his lips are a bright red to match yours<3

The recording goes pretty smoothly, but by the end of it, Gaz can be seen bursting into giggles which in turn makes you giggle a little until the recording cuts off.

You guys don't post it publicly, but I like to think Gaz posted a screenshot of when the two of you are in frame, looking at each other with goofy smiles.

Price

The last person you'd expect to be up with any trends, but it's alright, you're here to help him!

He's hesitant, only because he's a bit bashful! When it comes to these silly little recordings and any of your playful schemes, he gets a little shy about it.

But if you really bat your eyes, pout a little, maybe even tug on his sleeve...

"Please? Just this once, sweetheart?"

He sucks in a deep breath. He's a captain for Christ's sake, he's resisted things worse than this, and no amount of hellish torture has ever made him crack in the slightes-

"Pretty please? For me, Johnny?"

What was he thinking about again?

He sits there while you practically bounce in your spot while you lather on thick layers of lipstick, wondering if this will haunt him.

But all his bashfulness goes out the window when you cup his face oh-so-gently, smother him with kisses, giggling about how ticklish his facial hair is, how it nearly messes you up, how you smile proudly at your work and at him.

You swear you won't post it because you know he can't risk his reputation as a captain... but you also know nothing is stopping you from bringing it up every now and then to him.

Pulling up the pictures and videos, smugly grinning and ogling them while he groans at how smug you are.

Real proud of that one, aren't you?

Soap

"So basically for the trend I just need to put on some lipstick, kiss yo-"

"Say less."

Literally he doesn't care what he has to do, this man wants his kisses.

He'll be all "You missed a spot" when you're applying the marks on his face.

Your guys' version of the trend is a little different.

Instead, the video starts with you putting on lipstick, Soap takes it, commenting how the shade would look good on him, applying it on his lips before smothering you with kisses in the video, leaving the two of you all covered in lipstick stains.

After you wiped your face off, you notice Soap hasn't.

He's just staring smugly at the mirror, rubbing his chin, talking about how "Y'know, I think this actually looks good on me" and "Think I'll keep it on for today, yeah?"

"Honey, you can't go out like that."

"An' why not? I'm jus' wearin' makeup."

"Don't be a smartass- hey! Get back here MacTavish!"

Every day that man tests your patience, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Ghost

"You won't budge until I say yes?"

You're sitting on his lap on the bed, keeping him still, batting your eyes with faux innocence. He could lift you off if he wanted, but he doesn't, and that alone is enough of an answer for you.

"Nope."

He's trying to pretend so much that he doesn't care too much about it, that he's just letting you do whatever you want. Obviously, he's just playing along.

However, it isn't until you kiss that particular spot of his neck just right under his jaw where the stubble stops that it escalates.

"Oh? Is the lieutenant feeling ticklish?" You coo.

"'m not ticklish-" He's cut off by more kisses peppered around the area and a few extra on his face.

"Mhm, really, because," You're giggling in between your words, "When I kiss you here," He forces the fakest cough he's ever made when you kiss the same spot against, nipping it slightly. All he can do is lean back into the couch, leg bouncing impatiently, trying to bite back a chuckle or two until he finally cracks. The two of you are in a quiet fit of snickers and giggles until you finally let up.

After making the video, you silently gush over it, replaying it over and over. There's a hint of redness on his cheeks, and his eyes seem to flicker from you to the camera, it's the most flustered you've ever seen him be and you got it all on tape, lucky you.

Roach

"That's so dumb, of course I wanna do it."

Roach is all for goofy little couples trends, so it's nothing new if you ask him to do another.

"Babe, stay still would you?" You pout, "I'm gonna have to start over if you keep squirming!"

"Mmm, I think I'd like that."

"Of course you would." Rolling your eyes, you pinch his cheek and he yelps, apologizing and letting you continue. He really can't help it though, it's really ticklish for him.

It takes maybe three tries for you to get the video right, ending with one where Gary messed up your makeup for you by swooping in to give you a sloppy smooch and clumsily wiping it only to further smear it while in a fit of giggles. He claims you were taking too long so he put matters in his own hands.

"So when do I get to do you?"

"What are you talking about, that's all there is- Gary!"

"Nuh-uh, c'mere!"

Hound

He's confused as ever but agrees to it on a whim since he's often entertaining your needs and wants anyways.

As you settle on his lap, his hands rest on your sides and he looks up at you with affectionate eyes. He was looking at you like that when you were putting on your lipstick, too. You almost don't want to ruin his pretty little face, but at the same time, you think it'd look so much prettier with your kisses all over it<3

His eyes close and he stays still while you mark his face all over, even when your lips tickle sensitive spots like his scars. Patient as ever.

When you pull away, he looks like such a doll for you. Your hands cup his face and his lashes flutter open, showing those big brown eyes still giving you the same adoring look, and your chest is basically hammering. He can probably hear it, too. He reaches up to hold your hands and presses his lips against the knuckles. You swear your heart just stopped.

"Everything alright, sugar?"

Oh fuck, what were you supposed to be doing?

"Mhm." You nod frantically, face burning while his thumb brushes over a knuckle, "Y-You know, maybe we can just... tonight... haha... holdmeplease?"

Yeah... you never did quite get your video.

König

"What, with me?" He asks, bewildered.

"Of course?? Who else am I going to do it with? Oh sure, let me call up Horangi, I bet he'll be happy to-"

"Nonono! I want to do it!"

Moments later, he's sitting on the edge of your bed, hood off, fidgeting awkwardly, and watching you quietly. Now you know what he meant when they told him he couldn't stay still for the life of him.

"König, honey, you act like I'm going to hurt you or something." You chuckle, popping your lips as you apply your lipstick in the mirror. He wasn't even this skittish in bed so what had him all jittery?

Setting your hands on his shoulders, you reassure him with a kiss first on the forehead. "Relax, I just want to take a video, that's all."

"Sorry schatz, I'll behave." He hums, easing up at your touch and you smile, planting kisses all over. It seems he just didn't know what exactly he was in for.

You show him how he looks on your phone, "Thoughts?"

"Not bad..." He attempts to wipe off the marks, but you swat his hand away from him.

"You think we're done, mister?"

"Huh?" Practically pouncing on him, you cut him off with a hungry kiss, hovering your body over his. What, he didn't seriously think all you wanted was a video, did he?

Alejandro

He snickers, "If you just wanted my attention, you could've asked."

"I'm serious, Alejandro, it's a thing!" You beam, pointing to the videos on your phone.

He jokingly dismisses your claim and settles onto his office chair, looking at you expectantly. You're confused for a moment, what was he staring at you for?

"Are we going to do this or not? Don't tell me it was actually an excuse now, mi vida."

"No!" You blurt, though now you're debating if you should do this or just leave him waiting with how much he wants to tease you. Then again, you can't pass up this opportunity.

While applying your makeup, you can spot him quietly admiring you in the corner of his eye, and it nearly throws you off your game.

As you kiss him, he keeps his eyes on you, a grin on his lips. Not for a single moment does he tear his attention away from you, instead pointing at a few spots for you to mark.

"I got it, I got it," You huff, mumbling to yourself, "You're certainly enjoying this, colonel..."

Post-production, when you get up to wipe off your lips, he looks at you with offense, "What, that's it?"

"Yes..?"

"Nonono, I think we need to do it again, my way, this time." He snickers, pulling you in by the waist.

"Your way? Alejandro!" You whine without fighting back as he pulls you in for a longer kiss, all your protests forgotten.

a/n: homies i kinda regret writing this so close to valentine's day haha...

#x reader #call of duty #cod #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare 3 #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #captain john price #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #gary roach sanderson #gary roach sanderson x reader #roach x reader #hound cod #hound x reader #könig #könig x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader

[still-with-koo]

Stay | JJK

summary: when a creepy stranger follows you to your new job, your best friend jungkook makes sure he never does it again. but now he’s hurt and you’re determined to tend to his wounds, no matter how awkward if feels.

pairing: jungkook x reader

wc: 5,778

warnings/genre/rating: 17+, best friends to lovers; swearing; mentions of violence and bruises; insinuation of stalking; emotional distress; kissing; romantic touching; a bit of jealousy; vague reference to family estrangement; in this world, jungkook likes coffee but you don’t; and this is all obviously made up, none of it’s real

a/n: look, idk what this is. it just happened while i was missing a cute someone. having a really hard time writing rn so apologies if this isn’t what you were expecting. maybe you’ll like it (i hope so!)

The last few hours of your shift pass quietly.

You weren’t expecting any customers at this hour, especially given the warming temperatures, although convenience stores do tend to have some weirdos walk in at odd hours.

You duck below the front counter to clean the glass encasing the lottery tickets and hear the front door chime.

Quickly removing your hand, you start locking up the case when you hear something land on top of the counter. Tilting your head up, you see two Starbucks cups sat atop the counter.

“We don’t—“

When you meet the eyes of the customer, you realize it’s Jungkook.

“Done yet?”

“Not yet,” you reply, sighing as you glance at the clock behind you. “Nearly an hour left.”

Jungkook sighs. “You need a different job,” he says, looking over his shoulder before stuffing his hands in his pocket. “ I have a bad feeling about those dudes hanging out front.”

You look past him and shake your head.

You recognize one of the guys, the same guy that asked you out a few weeks ago. The one you’re certain belongs to some gang or mafia or something. You wonder if he thinks you may change your mind if you see him around enough times.

Little does he know, he’s the reason you’ve been applying to dozens of jobs to get out of this hellhole and as far from him as possible.

But you haven’t had much luck yet and you can’t afford to be jobless.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook. I can handle them. Anyways,” you stop for a second, pointing at the cups. “One of these for me?”

“No, I need both of these if I gotta listen to you.”

“This one better not be coffee or I’ll—“

You grab the one closest to you, sniffing the warm chocolate aroma and sighing in relief.

“I asked them to spike it with espresso.”

“Jerk,” you reply, smiling with the knowledge that Jungkook would never forget your drink order. He knows how much you despise coffee.

One by one, customers leave the coffee shop and you don’t blame them. With the number of mistakes the new barista is making, spilling drinks on the floor, on himself, on customers, you would be inviting a burn just to stay within 10 feet of him.

But you remain standing, grimacing every time one of the customers walks out with rather harsh parting words.

Too harsh, considering that his face probably drew in far more customers than the small shop usually sees.

Finally, you’re next in the line.

Well, you’re now the only person left in line.

When he sees you, his face brightens up tenfold.

“Y/N!! I didn’t expect you here. Hi!”

You step forward and smile at the beautiful boy behind the counter, hoping and praying that the warmth in your cheeks is not translating onto your skin.

“Hi Taehyung! Jungkook told me today was your first day so of course I had to come. How is it going?”

“Good,” is the first word out of his mouth but when you glance at the carnage of spilled drinks being wiped up by another worker, he quickly adds, “But it could be better. I guess I have much more to learn.” The way he scratches the nape of his neck is unexpectedly endearing.

“Let me make you a drink. You hit me as an iced Americano drinker, right?”

Iced Americano. The most repulsive, rancid drink on the menu.

“Yep, mhmm. That’s my drink.”

This is a new low. You’re not proud of yourself for folding but after all the mistakes he made today, you don’t have the heart to add another one to the list.

He prepares it quickly and regretfully manages not to spill it on you. As you take your first sip, the door to the coffee shop opens up behind you.

“Jungkook! You made it, buddy.”

Shit.

You wish the ground could swallow you whole when you notice Jungkook in your periphery, staring at the drink now leaving your lips, your throat twitching from having to push the vile liquid down it.

“Is that… coffee?”

“Haven’t seen much of you lately. So this is where you work now?”

You drum your fingers along the counter of the coffee shop, trying not to let your panic show on your face. You don’t even bother looking at the guy, the same one that fuelled your desire to leave your old job. You assumed you would never have to see him again once you found a new place to work but you were wrong.

With some effort, you manage to muster up your best customer service smile. “What would you like to order?”

He steps closer and you can almost imagine his smug expression as you look past him, trying your best to avoid eye contact.

“What drink can I buy you, beautiful?”

You flinch at the last word, scrunching up your nose as if something smells. You can smell the bullshit on him.

You take one deep inhale and straighten up to face him head on, locking eyes with the creep.

“I don’t want a drink from you. Ever. So either order something for yourself or leave the shop.”

He chuckles. “Don’t get emotional, beautiful. It’s just one drink.”

You scoff, amazed at his audacity.

“Look, I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.”

“Come on, it’s just one drink—“

“She asked you to leave her alone. That means you leave her alone.”

Taehyung is now standing between you and the man, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Why don’t you butt out, man. I’m just talking here.”

“No,” you interject, pushing Taehyung gently aside as you face the creep again, “I’m done talking to you. Are you going to leave or would you prefer the cops escort you?”

“Open up, Y/N. I know you’re home.”

You run to the peephole in your apartment and see Jungkook standing on the other side, pacing back and forth with his hands in fists.

“Now, Y/N, or I’m breaking the door down.”

When you open the door, he practically jumps at you, grabbing your shoulders as he scans your face and then looks at the rest of you. “Are you ok, Y/N? Did he hurt you? Give me his name.”

You realize Taehyung must have told him what happened. You grab Jungkook’s wrist and bring him to your couch, guiding him down as you sit down beside him.

“I’m fine, Jungkook. Perfectly fine. He just asked me out again and I said no. Nothing else happened.”

Jungkook looks relieved. Then he turns back to you.

“Again? You know him?”

“It’s… no, not really. Just some guy.”

You avoid his eyes, picking at a thread on your jeans. He puts his hand on yours.

“Tell me.”

“It’s no one. You don’t know him.”

“Y/N…”

You sigh. “It’s that guy you saw hanging out in front of the convenience store. He had asked me out back then and somehow found me at the coffee shop today. But don’t worry, I told him…” You pause when you notice his eyes clouding over, seemingly in a trance as he stands up, hands tightening into a fist.

“Jungkook?”

“It was the same guy? You’re sure?” He’s looking at you but you know he doesn’t see you. He sees him.

You stand up to face him directly, trying to wade through the fog in his eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid, Jungkook. He won’t—“ He doesn’t wait for you to finish as he pulls his hood over his head, slamming your door behind him.

You run out into the hall but he’s already gone.

Jungkook isn’t responding to your texts or calls. You’ve spent the last two and a half hours walking the streets trying to find him, terrified he might do something incredibly dangerous.

He has a habit of being overprotective and you’re worried he might land himself in the hospital again.

Or worse.

You scan every possible spot he may be, checking in with Taehyung every few minutes ever since you asked him to join the search, but so far neither of you have had any luck.

It’s cold and you can’t stop the disturbing thoughts, the ones with a badly hurt Jungkook. You’re hoping Jungkook doesn’t find him. That asshole is undoubtedly dangerous and if he happens to be with the thugs he usually surrounds himself with, you can’t bear to imagine what they’d do to Jungkook.

A few more hours pass and Taehyung’s roommate forces him to come home, leaving you to continue the search on your own.

You feel helpless and completely alone, letting your feet guide you as you continue to beg the universe to let you find Jungkook safe and sound.

Without realizing it, you’re in the middle of the park where you and Jungkook first met. You look up, almost pleading by now and feel droplets hit your face. You didn’t even realize it was raining.

“Y/N…?”

You turn around to see Jungkook standing a few metres away. Without warning you cry out, hot tears free falling onto your cheeks. Through the tears, you can only see the outline of Jungkook standing in the moon light and wonder if he is really there or if he’s just a beautiful mirage.

“Where were you,” you shout through the tears, nearly wailing at this point. “Why didn’t you answer my calls, idiot? I thought you…you might…”

Jungkook had started walking towards you at some point because his arms are now wrapped around you, his hand cradling your head against his chest. “Shhh, I’m here.”

“I thought you might…might be hurt,” you mutter between breaths, your tears spilling onto his chest and you’re not sure if he even understands what you’re saying.

“I’m ok. Really.”

You sniffle, and Jungkook tilts his head back to look at you. But you immediately pull your arms out from his hug and punch him on the chest. “You jerk, you could have—“

You pause mid sentence when you notice Jungkook wince in pain, far more than you would have expected. You blink a few times and notice the cut on his lip. His eye also seems quite a bit more red and swollen than you remember.

You pull back and stare at him. Although he attempts a smile, it doesn’t fool you, especially when the action causes his cheek to twitch.

“What happened, Jungkook?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking away now. “Nothing.”

You tilt his face back to you and run your finger over his cut lip. His lip twitches though you know he’s trying to keep a brave face. You trace up to his eye and catch another flinch, and the very beginnings of a bruise.

“You’re hurt.”

“You should see the other guy.”

It takes quite a bit of convincing to get Jungkook back into your apartment. He keeps insisting he can clean himself up and you know it’s because it’s past midnight now.

But you can’t let him take care of himself. Especially when you’re the reason he’s hurt.

Jungkook is sitting on your couch and looking the least comfortable you’ve ever seen him, his leg bouncing so fast you fear he may take off.

“Stay still. I need to get the ointment on your lip or it’ll scar.”

“Wouldn’t I look handsome with a scar?”

Jungkook laughs when you huff in annoyance, but immediately winces in pain, reaching for the cut.

“You’re lucky your lip ring wasn’t ripped out, Jungkook. I can’t believe you would stoop to violence.”

You’re leaning into him now, tilting his chin up so you can get a closer look at the cut.

You notice your heart racing and can’t figure out why. Then you realize Jungkook is staring at you.

“It might be easier for me if you close your eyes.”

“Who says I want this to be easy?”

Groaning, you leave the couch, returning a few seconds later with a bag of frozen peas. You press it against his blackening eye, a little carelessly given his last comment.

“Such gentle bedside manner,” Jungkook mutters, taking the peas from your hands and gently pressing it against his eye.

“Shut up.”

You stand back and survey his face, noticing a crusted cut above his eye. Grabbing the wet towel, you start wiping it off when he grabs your wrist.

“You’re shivering.”

“Hmm?”

Looking down, for the first time you notice you’re drenched, having been far more preoccupied with getting Jungkook cleaned up.

He reaches over and pushes a wet strand from your eyes. You’re staring at him now, swallowing when he wipes away a droplet from your cheek.

“Maybe you want to change into something warmer?”

“Yeah, ok. Give me one sec,” you reply, jumping up to grab a change of clothes. You pause mid-step and look back. “I’ll bring you the hoodie you left last time.”

You let him hit the shower first, standing back in awe when he emerges 20 minutes later in his old hoodie (it’s yours now, but whatever) and a pair of your baggy sweats. He really looks exceptional in sweats, you think to yourself. When he catches you staring, you clear your throat.

“Right. My turn now.”

His reaction to you after your shower is not nearly as… complimentary. You had grabbed the first pair of clothes in your drawer and maybe that was a mistake.

“Duckies?” He looks like he’s fighting back a laugh, but you don’t see anything wrong with the pyjama set. “It looks like someone barfed ducks on you.”

“What? These are normal pyjamas,” you reply, eyes narrowing. “What do you wear? Ironman shorts?”

A grown man is now giggling in your living room. You’re livid.

“How did you know I was wearing Ironman shorts? Did you peek?”

“What the heck? Seriously?” Ease sets in again as you laugh freely, walking over to playfully shove him. He winces in pain again, prompting you to stare at him. “Are you hurt here too?”

You place your hand on his chest and slide it over to where you shoved him. He sharply inhales, the action answer enough for you. You blink a few times and consider the options before landing on one. You realize you need to go with the one that feels the least comfortable.

“Take it off,” you say, vaguely gesturing to his chest.

“Huh?”

“You heard me,” you repeat, grabbing the layer covering his top half. “I need to see what I’m working with.”

“What, again? You really like making me take my clothes off, huh?”

Despite the annoyed groan you let out, you’re actually grateful for his attempt at lightening the mood.

He struggles for a few moments but manages to remove the hoodie with your help. Once it’s completely off, you can’t help but stare at his chest.

“What the fuck, Jungkook. Your boobs are bigger than mine.”

When you look up, you expect to be received by a smug grin or at least a smirk. But he seems to be avoiding your eyes, his ears turning an impressive shade of red.

Instead of teasing him further, you lean in to examine the injuries. Thankfully it’s not as bad as you feared. There is definitely the beginnings of bruising, but nothing major.

You run your hand over the bruised spot on his chest to check for swelling, noticing him jump a little.

“Too cold?”

He nods.

Rubbing your hands together, you try again, resting a fingertip on his skin. He looks up at you and nods. You slide your hand lower to his ribs and Jungkook groans in response. The bruising is a bit worse there and you decide to apply an ice pack to reduce the risk of further swelling.

Unfortunately, ice is not very comfortable.

Every time your hand glides over his chest, he jumps, pulling away from your touch.

“I need to hold this in place for it to work.”

“Fine. Be quick.”

He inhales but the second your hand touches his chest, he jumps again.

“Sorry, try it again.”

You place your hand on his chest again and notice him tensing his body, his abs distracting you momentarily. As you glide it over to his bruised rib, you hear his muffled groans. A few minutes pass as you continue holding on, noticing how cute he looks with his eyes squeezed shut and his self restraint as he bites his lip, willing himself to endure a bit longer.

You let go one hand to reach for his face when you feel him grab your other wrist again.

With his eyes still shut, he whispers so low you almost don’t hear it. “How much longer?”

You blink at him and when you don’t respond, his eyes flutter open.

Suddenly there isn’t enough air. His breath sounds shallow and you wonder if yours sounds the same. With how close he is, you almost forget he asked you a question.

Clearing your throat, you glance into his eyes momentarily before averting your gaze to his hand wrapped around yours. “A few more minutes. Think you can hang in there a bit longer, hmm?”

He sighs, grip loosening but staying where it is. You chance a glance at him again and he is looking at you. The intensity of his gaze runs through you, an intensity you assume stems from his pain. Pain you wish you could take away.

Your eyes drift to his chest and your mind to somewhere further away. You would have never guessed he looks like that under all those baggy clothes. He’s always been so shy about showing his body, and now you can’t help wondering why.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of thumping. Jungkook’s leg is bouncing again and you reach over to rest your free hand on his leg. Your eyes meet and he gives you a small smile before looking away.

You lift the ice pack and press it higher. He hisses, biting his lip again, so hard you fear he may draw blood. Suddenly his hand squeezes yours again, eyes snapping shut. “Ok, enough, Y/N. I can’t take it any more.”

You exhale the breath you’d been holding, removing the ice pack from him. “Ok, fine. I guess that’s enough.”

A shiver passes through him and you watch as he rubs his arm, looking up at you with a sheepish grin. “Thanks.”

As you wrap up the ice pack, Jungkook reaches over you to grab his hoodie. With his face so close to yours, you notice how long his eyelashes are, and how cute his nose looks sitting above his pretty lips.

You quickly look away and wait for him to put on his hoodie. Once it’s on, you look at him again. He looks really tired, the very picture of how you feel.

“You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Jungkook quirks his brow and then shakes his head, pushing himself off the couch very slowly. “I’ll be way more comfortable in my own bed.”

You quickly run to your door, covering it up with your body. “Absolutely no way I’m letting you walk home in this condition. Besides, I’m taking you to the doctor first thing in the morning.”

Jungkook reaches behind you but in his exhaustion he ends up collapsing onto you. You let him lean on your shoulder, cradling his head as you imagine what he’s been through.

He slowly wraps his arms around you, and you two stay like that for a little while longer, standing perfectly still in each other’s arms. These last several hours have been hell.

“Ok fine, I’ll sleep here,” he whispers onto your shoulder, inhaling deeply before pulling away. “But I’ll take the couch.”

You manage to convince Jungkook to share the bed with you, something that Jungkook fights you on even as you’re guiding him under the covers. But you insist, especially since it means he can tell you immediately if he feels worse.

After you tuck him in, you leave for the washroom. When you return, Jungkook is already asleep.

You chuckle when you notice the little pillow barrier he built between you two. You flip off the light and get into bed, leaning over the barrier to give Jungkook the lightest kiss on the head you can manage. “Love ya, dork,” you whisper with a smile, flipping onto your side.

Before long you’re fast asleep. He chances a look over the barrier and confirms it.

Sighing, he lies back down, staring at the ceiling.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

You toss in bed, realizing you’re now awake. With a few blinks to adjust to the darkness of the room, you tilt your head up and catch the red glare from your clock. 3:42am.

Not morning yet.

Blinking some more, memories of this night float to the front of your mind.

With the utmost care, you twist towards the other side. The breath you’d been holding releases as you see Jungkook laying peacefully beside you.

It wasn’t a dream. He’s still here.

You prop up on your elbow as you lean towards him, reaching over the pillow partition to brush a strand that has fallen over his face. He stirs a little, one hand coming over his stomach as the other twitches under the covers.

You watch him breathe.

In and out.

In and out.

He’s such an idiot.

You shiver as that thought hits you. The thought of what could have happened to him.

Behind that rough exterior lies the gentlest person you know.

To the world, he is the bad boy. The tattoos and face piercings. The bruises on his knuckles from boxing. The sound of his motorcycle in the dead of night.

To you, he is the only good thing in your world. The bunny nose scrunches and elmo giggles. The giant hugs when you have to let go first. And the way he always shows up when you need him.

When you two first met, your father warned you away from him. He went so far as to threaten disowning you.

Well. Turns out it wasn’t just a threat. And when the final bell rang, you chose Jungkook.

He has no clue, though. He just knows you as that annoying rich girl who now struggles to make ends meet.

And he’s always been way too considerate to ask what happened. Instead, he offers his ramen whenever you come over and always gets two cups of Starbucks.

And he doesn’t need to know. All that matters is he is the best friend you could ever ask for. The one person who has stood by you through it all.

And the only person you have ever been in love with.

You only wish you could be brave enough to tell him that.

Maybe you could…

You feel an urge to lean over and kiss his forehead.

That should be ok, right?

You stare at him a bit longer, watching his chest rise and fall, soft sounds escaping his lips.

You lean across and rest your hand at his side, taking care not to touch him.

He is still as night itself.

You dip down and let your lips hover over his forehead.

His eyes are closed. Even with his eyes closed, he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

You wish he could see it too.

It’s comical, actually, because he truly is beautiful. But when you told him so, he made some offhanded comment about Taehyung being the handsome one and asked you not to lie. You just brushed it off but at this moment it bothers you. What does he mean?

Look at his cute lil nose.

If you had a nickel for every time you wanted to boop it, you’d be rich again.

And those perfectly pouty lips. Like rose petals on top of each other. You’ve always wondered how…

Only a split second and suddenly your lips are on his. Just the gentlest touch but it’s enough.

You gasp the slightest bit before you pull away, embarrassed and ashamed. But your hand remains planted at his side. When you look back you see Jungkook’s fingers circled around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jungkook’s eyes are still closed but he’s smirking now. With a quick tug at your wrist you fall on top of him and he groans, prompting you to prop yourself up again.

“Jungkook—,” you gasp but his other hand pulls you down, your lips crashing onto his again. He sighs against your lips and then kisses you, soft and hard all at once. You smile, kissing him back. When you finally pull away, his eyes are still shut.

“If this is a dream,” he murmurs, his hand making its way up your back. “I’m never waking up again.”

“Jungkook,” you whisper again, sliding your hand up his chest and he groans when you touch a sore spot, “oh, sorry,” you add, glancing down.

He hisses, pulling you onto him and wrapping his arms around you. “Hold me. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

You press a kiss against his chest before snuggling into him.

Then it hits you.

Just for tonight.

You wonder if he wants this to be a one-off thing.

Or he could still be half asleep.

Worries cloud your mind as his arms envelope you. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head.

You inhale deeply and lift your head a bit. “Just for tonight… is that what you want?”

He sighs, pulling you in tighter. “I want this forever. Just you and me.”

You notice he hasn’t said your name once. Maybe he is still dazed. You did give him some pretty strong painkillers.

He groans again and you lift your head. “Maybe you could…,” he starts and when he doesn’t say anything else you rest your head again.

“Wha—,” you exclaim as Jungkook then pulls you across him, dragging you over his body to his other side, the less bruised one.

“There,” he says, kicking away the pillows and nestling himself into the centre of the bed. “This is perfect. You comfy?” He looks down at you with the biggest smile and warmth spreads across your chest. You can only nod. He chuckles, pulling you in tighter.

And somehow you fall asleep like that.

Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Morning comes much too soon.

You blink open your eyes to white and yellow haze. The blinds must be drawn.

Fear creeps up your throat as you run your hand across the bed. The tangle of white sheets are just that. Sheets.

He’s gone.

The doubts start to swirl in your head as you remember what he said.

Just for tonight.

He probably regrets it. The kiss. The cuddling. Everything.

Was it too much? Are you too much?

Lost in your own world, you don’t hear the sound of footsteps growing louder as they approach.

Or the sound of something hitting your night table.

But you do feel the arms that snake around you, a hard body gently setting against yours, and warm breath on your neck.

“Mmm,” he hums, kissing your neck, “time to eat.”

When you open your eyes, Jungkook is staring at you. Contrary to the soft and easy way he spoke, there is uncertainty in his eyes. A searching look. A car waiting for a green light.

And it hits you.

He’s just as worried as you are. This is new territory you two are exploring.

He opens his mouth then shuts it, his teeth peeking out to catch on his lip ring. You watch, fascinated, as you wait for him to speak.

He comes in a bit closer then hesitates. “Is this ok? Should I leave? I didn’t know if what happened last night—“

You lift your head and kiss his nose. “More than ok. I want you to stay.” And just like magic, the lost look disappears. His nose scrunches up as he smiles down at you.

“Hungry?”

“Mhmm.”

He helps you up and pulls the sheets from your legs. You can’t help noticing the ease with which he’s moving.

“You seem a lot better than I expected. You’re not hurting still?” When he gives you a quizzical look, you gesture to his chest and ribs. His eyes widen and then he grins.

“I’m JK, remember? Here, I made these special,” he replies, setting a plate of pancakes on your lap. He then pushes off the blanket and sits next to you, setting a plate in front of him. “Do you wanna… maybe take a shower with me after this?”

You nearly choke on your bite, pancake spraying all over the bedspread. “What?” You manage to turn to him and he’s smirking at you.

“I ran home to check on Bam before you woke up and now I’m kinda sweaty. And too tired to wash myself,” he replies, throwing in a quick wink that almost stops your heart, “Don’t you wanna help me wash?”

You groan. Jungkook might be the best person you know but he’s also the most annoying.

Maybe that’s why you two are a perfect match.

“Here,” he says, reaching over to grab the cups from the tray. “Thirsty?”

“Yep,” you reply, taking the cup he’s holding out to you. You sniff it.

“Wait, what is this?”

Jungkook giggles as he takes a sip of his own drink.

“Try it.”

You bring it closer but one sip has you gagging and nearly spitting it out. “Fuck, Jungkook, why?”

He’s laughing, but the moment you look back at him, his expression turns serious. “What? You drink coffee for Tae but not me? I see how it is.”

He starts to get up but you grab his arm. “One sip! I had one fucking sip! You can’t possibly be angry about that,” you yell back, reaching for him. When he turns back around, he’s grinning.

Then he holds out his own cup. You eye it suspiciously and he laughs. “This was yours,” he says, smiling, “It’s hot chocolate. Your favourite.”

He swaps the two cups and pulls you in for a hug.

“And you’re my favourite. I love you, Y/N.”

You’re startled by how suddenly and easily those words fall from his lips. Then you realize you might not have imagined those same words last night.

You wrap your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his hug and the way it engulfs you in a feeling of safety and security. The way Jungkook always makes you feel.

“I love you too, dork.”

so…? did you like it? ♡

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #stay #lilo fics

[daysofyellowroses]

noodles

carmen berzatto x reader | 1.9k | based on this absolutely adorable request from my darling @thecapricunt1616 enjoy it then i am beyond happy 💗🌼🫶🏻

It didn't matter how many times you shook the plastic stick, the little pink plus sign didn't fade. You tossed it in the trash can, where it joined three others with matching pink pluses. You couldn't really get your head around it, you'd been careful, taken things relatively slow..well, kind of. 

Things had just progressed a little quicker than you'd expected. One minute you're applying for a hostess job, thinking you probably won't even get an interview, seeing as it was a Michelin-starred hotspot, then next thing you're front and center at a fancy restaurant and spending large portions of your shift flirting with the head chef. 

It was never serious flirting, it was just silly and fun. You made flirty comments to everyone, you just particularly meant them with Carmy. He finally seemed to get the hint when you asked him upstairs after he'd dropped you home for the 10th time. 

Nothing really happened that night, you just shared a drink, cheap wine from your refrigerator, and made each other laugh with stupid jokes. You told him you meant it when you flirted, he insisted you were joking. It was only when you kissed him that he finally got the message, kissing you back with a fervor that had your head spinning in the most wonderful way. 

From there you two developed a relationship that suited you both. You were professional at work, still had some nights apart when you were both exhausted or just needed some alone time. But you had spent hours sitting on his kitchen counter watching him cook, told him stories from your past, encouraged him to tell you some stories too. You watched movies that you didn't pay full attention to, you read your book with your legs over Carm's lap, rolling your eyes with a grin when he would tease you for looking so serious. 

It was the best relationship you'd ever been in, and while you weren't sure what the future held, you were positive Carm would be a big part of it, that you two would keep going, develop your relationship.

Sure, you had thought about kids, marriage, a home together etc., but in a kind of just-for-fun-daydreamy kind of way. 

Now, one of those things was becoming a reality. It wasn't exactly how you would have planned it, you and Carm weren't even living together. Sure, you stayed at his most nights of the week and had more than a few personal belongings left there, but it wasn't the same.

It felt like moving in should have been the next step. The excitement of starting to really build a foundation together. You were just skipping ahead a step or two, apparently. 

Eventually you left the bathroom and chose to sit on your bed for a while instead. You called your doctor and made an appointment, more as a formality. Maybe it would feel more real when your doctor told you rather than seeing it on a plastic stick you'd peed on.

Once you were dressed you went to make a coffee before stopping yourself, wondering if it was ‘allowed’, even though it was so early on. You decided to play it safe, having a herbal tea instead, which you nearly choked on when your phone rang, Carmy's ID flashing up on the screen.

Did he know? How could he know?

“Hey,” You smiled as much as you could, trying to feel normal. “How are you? How is everything?”

You hoped you didn't sound too unusual or not yourself, feeling annoyingly aware of yourself.

“Hey, everything's good,” Carm replied and you felt yourself relax a little. “Just..there's been a slight change of plan for today.”

You stifled a laugh, nothing Carm could say could be a bigger change of plan than an unexpected pregnancy.

“Oh? You raised a brow, lightly tapping your nails against your cup. “What's up?”

“So, it turns out that apparently I promised Richie and Sug that I'd babysit while they have some meetings. I hate to ask when it's your day off but..could you help me?”

You couldn't help but laugh, resting your head on your head on your hand and letting out a soft sigh.

“Of course I'll help, don't worry. When do you need me?” 

An couple of hours later, you found yourself at Carmy's apartment, smiling as he opened the door looking flustered, a toddler on his hip and a doll in his hand.

“Perfect timing,” He smiled, stepping aside to let you in. “I'm outnumbered.”

“Who said I'm on your side?” You raised a brow, smiling at the little boy on Carmy's hip and gently stroked his cheek as he giggled. “I'm here to help the kids gang up on you.”

“Oh good,” Carm nodded, lightly tapping you with the doll. “Bring it on.”

You made your way to the living room, smiling as you spotted Eva on the couch, giving her a little wave.

“Hey girly girl,” You grinned, going to sit next to her. “Hope you've been keeping your uncle busy?”

“Yeah,” She giggled, leaning over to you as Carm came into the room. You leaned down, smiling as she whispered in your ear.

A half hour or so later, you went to open the living room door as there was a knock, adjusting the toddler on your hip before opening it and trying to keep a straight face as you met Carm's eyes.

“Hi, can I help you?” You asked, raising a brow.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Carmy nodded, trying to keep a straight face. “I have an appointment, I'm a little early but..maybe you could squeeze me in?”

“Maybe,” You nodded, biting your lip softly. “Come in, follow me.”

You turned and walked further into the room, gesturing to the couch. “Take a seat.”

“Yes ma'am,” Carm nodded as you walked to the kitchen door and opened it.

“Your two o'clock is early,” You said, glancing back to Carm for a moment.. “Do you want to fit him in now?”

You nodded before turning back to Carm and gesturing to the kitchen. “She'll see you now, come through.”

You walked into the kitchen and smiled as you watched Carm walk in, the smile on his face as he spotted the makeshift beauty salon that had been set up.

“Take a seat,” Eva gestured to the seat across the counter, an adorably serious look on her face. You placed the baby into his high chair by the table, smiling as you heard Eva boss her uncle around.

“Hands in the bowl, keep them still.”

You went to the fridge, taking out a little light blue lunch box before glancing over to Carm with a smile.

“What color do you want?” Eva asked, pointing to the handful of nail polishes sitting on the counter. 

 “Hm, I'm not sure,” Carm mused, looking at the colors. “I got a big date tonight, I wanna look my best. What do you think will suit me?”

You smiled to yourself as you put the lunch box in the microwave, laughing softly as you heard Eva tell Carm to hold still.

After lunch and Carmy's nail appointment, you decided to take the kids to the park, feeling a new wave of love for your boyfriend that he made no attempt to remove the red nail polish. When you were taking the stroller to the lift, one of Carm's neighbors passed you in the hall and smiled at you and realized that it wouldn't be long before the baby in the stroller would be yours.

You brushed off the thought, trying to focus on just having a nice, fun day. As you were en route to the park, Carm asked if you could have a little detour, and you were sure the look on the kids faces when you arrived at build-a-bear would never leave you.

Carm took his nephew from the stroller and placed him on his hip before taking him to pick out a teddy, your heart swelling in your chest, moreso when Eva took your hand and asked you to help her choose.

You found yourself subconsciously placing your hand on your stomach, wondering what it would feel like to hold your own baby on your hip, feel their hand in yours, see the excitement in their eyes when they were presented with a cute little toy.

Carm's nephew had picked a bear (perhaps with a little nudge from his uncle), that ended up in a chefs uniform (that one was a total push), while Eva chose a bunny that she chose a performance outfit for. 

When you got back to Carm's, you were more than happy to chill on the couch, though you practically melted into it when Carm got a book and read to the kids (and their new toys) til they were asleep. 

“Not a bad effort,” You smiled, looking over to Carm and trying not to imagine the toddler that could be in his lap one day. “You might actually be pretty good at this whole uncle thing.”

“I might just be,” Carm grinned, reaching out to touch your hand. “Had help from the best though.”

“You're welcome,” You smiled, gently stroking his hand. “I presume that's why you're taking me on a..big date, was it?”

“Oh absolutely,” Carm nodded, looking serious for a moment before he grinned. “the biggest.”

“Hm, guess I'll have to get glammed up,” You smiled, looking over to Eva. “Maybe I'll see if I can get a last minute appointment.”

That evening, after a quick trip home to grab a change of clothes, you were back in Carmy's apartment. It felt so quiet without the kids, you found yourself putting on music just for background noise. 

When you were in the bathroom putting on your makeup, you felt a wave of nausea hit you, more out of nerves than anything else. You hoped it would leave, but before you knew it you were bent over the toilet, taking a deep breath as you waited for the inevitable.

There was a knock on the bathroom door when you were washing your hands, looking up at the mirror taking a deep breath. Even with makeup you still looked unwell. 

“Hey,” Carm smiled as you opened the door, the concern evident on his face. “Are you okay? I thought I heard..”

“I'm fine,” You nodded, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh as the concern didn't leave his face. “I just..need to talk to you.”

You walked into the bedroom, sitting on the bed and trying to think of the right words.

“Okay,” You began. “this is..really not what I thought would happen, and I don't know how you're going to take this but..oh god..”

As you buried your head in your hands, Carm was immediately by your side, his arm around your waist. 

“Whatever it is you can tell me,” He assured you. “I promise. Just let it out, we'll handle it.”

“I'm pregnant.” You said before you could stop yourself or build it up more, lowering your hands and looking over to Carm.

“You're..wow,” Carmy nodded, rubbing his jaw. “Well, thank fuck for that. I mean, I knew, but I thought you were dumping me.”

“Wait what?” You raised a brow. “You knew? How did you know?”

“I just knew,” Carm shrugged with a smile. “I mean, I guess I hoped I was right..I know it's skipping ahead a little but..I want what we had today, all the time.”

“Can you stop being so perfect for like one day?” You rolled your eyes with a grin, resting your head on Carmy's shoulder. “Or maybe just after the big date.”

#the bear #the bear 🐻 #the bear fic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #why do so many of my stories involve kids and or pregnancy #it's not intentional #just a vibe #🫶🏻🌼💗

[bangtanflirt]

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 10)

*Series taglist is closed.

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7 > Part 8 > Part 9 > Part 10 > Part 11

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: slight themes of prejudice/ignorance (against wolf hybrids), some jealousy, brief mention of mxm smut

____

It’s the next night when the hybrids notice the change between you and Yoongi—with wound care being devoid of your fierce gazes and cold, one-word responses. Your gaze is warm now, and so are your words. The two of you work on your respective hybrids in harmony, occasionally asking the other to hand over new gauze or antibiotics.

Jin tilts his head to give better access to his neck, heart rate picking up as Yoongi’s fingers delicately graze his skin. His hands are cold, but Jin finds himself leaning into the touches regardless.

“The wounds look a little better now.” Yoongi softly comments, more an observation to himself than any attempt at conversation. Jin just nods, focusing on not flinching as the ointment stings. The man applying the cream mutters a “sorry” under his breath, trying to get this part over with quick. He’s firm when wrapping the gauze, and Jin can’t help but stare at the fingers maneuvering around his neck—slender and pretty. The oldest wolf gulps, catching himself before his mind starts listing off every other thing pretty about Min Yoongi.

The mood is entirely different when Yoongi gets to Jungkook; the wolf backs away instantly, eyes narrowing in distrust.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. Yoongi and I are fine now.”

It’s not lost on you the way most of them sigh in relief, glad to no longer be caught up in the middle of a cold war.

“Woo! We can finally put the pact to rest.” Taehyung smiles wide.

“Pact?”

“Yeah. We made a pact that we would ice Yoongi out until the two of you made up. It was kind of hard since…you know…we all live here. But we’re loyal,” Taehyung puffs out his chest in pride, “so we all stuck by it.”

Yoongi’s eyes dart to Jin, amused at the way the hybrid shyly ducks his head down. A pact sounded like serious business. No wonder he was anxious about them finding out about that night. Yoongi can’t help but find the shy guilt on Jin’s features adorable.

Just reading together made him such a mess. Why is that kind of cute?

A smile almost peeks its way through the man’s features, but the moment is interrupted by Jungkook’s annoyed tone.

“It’s not about the pact or whatever you two have going on. I just don’t like him.”

The room is pin-drop silent, with you looking the most taken-aback. His voice is coarse and unfriendly, as if it belongs to some new person entirely. It takes you a second before you can figure out what to say.

“Jungkook, Yoongi hasn’t done anything wrong towards you," you proceed tentatively, "You’re being rude. Please apologize.”

The wolf simply rolls his eyes, “I can’t help who I like and don’t like y/n. I’m gonna go get ready for bed. Jimin hyung can replace my bandages later.” He leaves no room for argument.

The rest of the wolves share a knowing look while watching him walk off, but you’re completely in the dark.

“What was that all about? Jungkook’s never acted out like that…is he not feeling okay?”

Namjoon nervously clears his throat, “This is him feeling okay. Jungkook’s never dealt well with people outside of the pack. The hormones wearing off has him putting his guard up again.”

Oh.

“So this is him going back to his usual self?”

They nod, “We’ll get him under control. Don’t worry.”

It had never occurred to you that Jungkook’s real personality would be that much different from him on the hormones. It seems as if you’ve been too naïve.

Namjoon can read your thoughts like an open book, trying his best to find the right words to ease your worries, “Relax. Jungkook’s a bit difficult to win over, but it’s not impossible. He’s still a sweetheart once he lets you in—really lets you in, without the drugs making him.”

You nod, unable to hide your disappointment at the prospect of starting over. As glad as you are that those wretched drugs are losing their hold, it’s not exactly fun to hear you’ll soon be back to zero progress with him. Right now it’s just Yoongi he doesn’t like, but it can’t be that long until those narrow eyes are pointed at you.

“And the rest of you…will it be like that for everyone?” It’s a question you don’t really want to ask, but it’s better to be prepared for the worst-case scenario. Will they all turn into strangers in a few days? If they do start seeing you as a stranger—or worse, an enemy­­—then how long until things get bloody?

Namjoon scoots over to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We all have things different about us off the hormones, but Jungkook is the only one who can get a bit wild. He’s definitely the most different. I can reign him in, though, so don’t worry. We’re not going to be a danger to you.”

Yoongi looks at where you and Namjoon connect with an irked expression, not fond of how close the wolf is sitting.

“How can you guarantee that?” He speaks up, tone borderline challenging, “Just taking your word for it isn’t good enough when we’re talking about y/n’s safety. You’re wolves, after all.”

There it was. Four simple words that had every hybrid shifting uncomfortably.

You’re wolves after all. A statement jam-packed with prejudices they were all too familiar with. They were wolves, so of course they were aggressive and barbaric. Of course.

Namjoon meets the man’s stare, but his own is far more calm. A good Alpha knows when it’s beneficial to pick a fight and when it isn’t, and provoking Yoongi isn’t going to do anyone any good right now. It’s best to deal with reason.

“As many stereotypes as there are about us, wolves do not simply kill or maim for fun. We are not the bloodthirsty monsters all your books and TV shows make us out to be. Hell, even a full-wolf’s response to seeing a human is to retreat. The only reason we would ever be hostile is if you pose a threat, and it’s no secret what kinds of cruel things hybrid owners usually do with wolves.”

Jin nods in the back, adding his own two-cents in, “It’s not fair that we keep getting this bad reputation. I don’t even know why we’re stuck with it—I mean, hyena hybrids are right there! They literally claw faces off the second they see you guys, but no, let’s make the wolves the bad guys in every children’s tale.”

Yoongi backs down at seeing the frustration on Jin’s face, suddenly feeling apologetic for his statement.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay. We’re used to it.”

Yoongi’s about to speak again, but you interrupt before he digs this hole any further, “Yoongi’s just being overly cautious for my sake, please don’t take it to heart. I have no doubt that humans have done plenty of wrong to your kind, and I’m sorry that’s how things are. As long as you’re with me, I’m going to go off of what I see, not what anyone else tells me. And so far, what I see are wonderful wolves who have done no harm to me. Namjoon, you seem confident that you can keep Jungkook calm, and I’m going to trust you on that.”

Again, Namjoon’s face lights up at the mention of trust.

“Thank you, y/n. We won’t let you down.”

You smile, getting ready to leave. Yoongi follows, hanging on at the doorframe for a second longer to lock his gaze with Jin’s.

“I didn’t mean to be ignorant. I’m sorry.” And with that, he leaves.

Jungkook comes out from the bathroom moments after, still very much in an irritated mood.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok asks, treading carefully.

“She took his side over mine.”

“Oh Koo, I don’t think she was trying to take sides.”

“She wanted me to apologize. Why should I apologize? If I don’t like him then I don’t like him.”

Hoseok sighs, motioning for the youngest wolf to sit in between his legs. Jungkook nestles between his hyung’s thighs, back resting against Hoseok’s chest as his arms come to hug his middle, careful not to touch where Tae's claw marks are. Hoseok plants a kiss on Jungkook’s cheek, trying to dull his displeased scent.

Jimin attempts to pick up the conversation when it’s clear Hoseok doesn’t know how.

“Baby, we know how you get around others, but y/n doesn’t. You caught her by surprise.”

“But you guys never make me apologize. You always take my side.”

“That’s because we’re your pack, Koo. Of course we’ll always take your side.”

The words feel like cold water being poured on him, jolting enough to get his thoughts straightened out.

You’re not part of his pack.

He doesn’t know why he fell into a sense of comfort with you…probably the hormones. But you’re not his packmate. And, as Jimin implied, you have no obligation to take his side—and he has no obligation to take yours either.

___

Jungkook doesn’t talk to you at breakfast. Nor at lunch. You don’t attempt to speak to him either—having a feeling that forcing unwanted interaction is just going to push him away. The plan is to wait until he lets you in. It sounds easy, but it’s not. All you want to do is ruffle his soft brown hair and ask him to recap the newest K-drama he’s watching, but you can’t. You watch with longing as he leans into Namjoon’s touch without a moment of hesitation, brown eyes shining up at his Alpha.

I just have to be patient. He’ll come around.

You don’t know if you’re being naïve again, but wishful thinking is all you have going for you.

On the bright side, you and Yoongi are in a good place, and you don’t feel like you’re walking on needles every time you text for an office update. It’s late afternoon when your phone rings, with his name popping up on the screen.

“Hey. How did the 1pm meeting go? Is Rollie all good?”

“Everything went perfectly. We’re good to proceed with funds for Rollie.”

“Thank god. We could not afford to delay that any longer. I’m glad Minhyun got it done swiftly.”

“He only got it done this quick because someone spent her vacation days camping in their financial statements instead of actually enjoying time off.”

“Well, whoever did that sounds like she’s very efficient.”

Yoongi laughs, shaking his head at his desk.

“Any other updates I should know about?”

“There is one thing: Gong Ha-Jun came by earlier today, looking extremely out of it. He kept telling me to tell you he’s sorry and that he really needs this job. I had to rush to my next meeting before I could figure out what that was all about. Do you have any clue?”

“His wife must’ve come clean.”

Yoongi scrunches his brows in confusion, trying to keep up, “Wife?”

“Yeah. You know the art store incident I told you about?”

“With the lady threatening Hybrid Control?”

“Yeah. The lady is Ha-Jun’s wife. I was surprised he didn’t come begging the second after it happened, but it seems it took her a while to tell him. I’ll be processing his termination papers soon, so you won’t have to worry about him bugging you much longer.”

Incredulity replaces confusion as Yoongi scrambles to have you rethink, “Wait, let’s hold on a second. You said you’d try to be more understanding at work.”

“I am being more understanding. I’m quietly processing the papers instead of firing him in front of the whole office like I want to.”

He thinks over his words very carefully, knowing he has to convey his points without threatening your ego.

“Y/n, this isn’t reasonable. What his wife did was out of line, but Ha-Jun is an outstanding employee. He’s even up for a promotion in his department.”

You let out a dry laugh.

“Like hell he is. Promoting an employee after his wife tried to humiliate and practically extort money from me…yeah that sounds like a good precedent to set.”

Yoongi runs his fingers through his hair in exasperation, now leaning fully forward with elbows propped up.

“Ha-Jun’s worked here for fifteen years, and he has one of the highest success rates for bids. Do you know how many times Choi was trying to get him in on shady deals behind your back? But he always declined. If you go through with firing him, then you’re losing someone honest and competent. It’s only going to hurt you in the long run, y/n.”

“But if I let it go—”

“If you let it go, he’s going to be incredibly grateful, work harder, and be even more loyal to you.”

There’s a moment of silence as you gather your thoughts.

“Please, can we at least try it this way?”

You sigh, unable to say no when it’s Yoongi asking so earnestly.

“Okay. I won’t fire him. But tell him his wife has to submit a written apology. That’s not unreasonable.”

“I’ll tell him. You won’t regret this.”

You’re skeptical, but you decide to believe him—because it’s him.

___

“I’m surprised every time I peek in here. It’s coming along wonderfully Tae.”

Taehyung turns around to see you at the door, eyes transfixed on the canvas. Not much has been done, only the hair so far, but the part that is finished looks as if it’s a photograph. You genuinely can’t comprehend the level of skill it must take. You’ve collected many oil paintings in your life, in the form of either gifts or through charity auctions, but rarely have you stopped to think about the hours of work and dedication it takes to create one. They’ve always been pretty decorations to spice up a part of the estate—but now, seeing the love Taehyung pours into each brushstroke has you finding a newfound appreciation for the craft.

“You think so?”

“You’re practically a modern day Van Gogh.”

His boxy grin makes an appearance at the compliment, but it’s short-lived as another figure comes up behind you.

You jump up at the feeling of another body.

“Jimin! Don’t sneak up on me!” You chide, playfully smacking his arm.

He laughs before letting his head rest on your shoulder, eyes trailing to Taehyung and his art.

“That looks incredible.”

Taehyung’s face visibly drops as he mutters an indifferent thank you before turning around to immerse himself back into painting.

You look back and forth, “Did something happen with you two?” It’s a whisper, only meant for Jimin’s ears. Neither of you know that Taehyung’s dialed into his hybrid hearing as well, paranoid that Jimin might say something to undermine the younger wolf.

“No, we’re fine.”

You cock up a brow, not buying it, “Then why did he ignore you?”

“He’s just in the zone right now.”

You want to prod further but decide to back off, “Well, I’m gonna go make dinner.”

“I’ll help!”

“Jin’s already helping. You should stay here, keep Tae company.”

Both hybrids know the implications of your words.

Talk to each other and figure things out.

You push Jimin into the room before closing the door, mouthing an encouraging “you got this” on the way out.

He awkwardly hovers behind his busy packmate, trying to find his voice.

“What did I do, Tae? What did I do so wrong that you can’t even look at me anymore?” His voice cracks midway, unpleasant emotions stirring up in the pit of his stomach.

Taehyung puts the brush down, fearing that his hands will start shaking if he tries to paint while having this conversation. He still doesn’t look back, though.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. How could you? You never do anything wrong. You’re so fucking perfect that it has to be me who’s always wrong, right?”

“Tae, baby—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Those days are behind us Taehyung. The lab, being compared to each other, that fucking scoreboard…it’s all in the past. We don’t have to live like that anymore.”

The mention of the scoreboard only adds kindling to the fiery rage inside of Taehyung, making him turn around at last.

“The scoreboard where you always ranked first or second? Very easy for you to say. Do you know what it feels like to see your name last place every single week? The fear of the punishment that comes after…watching those researchers laugh and draw what torture method to use out of a fucking hat…it was their favorite part of the week. But it was never a problem for you, huh?”

Hot tears trail down Taehyung’s face, and Jimin’s eyes are ready to spill at any moment.

“I was just trying to survive! We were all drugged up and out of our minds in there! Why does it seem like you’re only mad at me?!”

“Because you were supposed to be my best friend! And now I can’t look at you without thinking about every time you were spared and I wasn’t. You wanna know what my nightmare was about, Jimin? It was about you—you laughing away as they did whatever cruel thing they wanted to me.”

The air leaves Jimin’s lungs, feeling as if the room could collapse on him at any moment. How could things ever get this bad? His beloved packmate, his best friend, having nightmares of him? His tears don’t hold themselves back anymore.

“I-I never laughed. You know that.”

“Doesn’t matter. You were probably laughing in your head. Bet it was so funny, right? Seeing the most useless member of the pack mess up over and over again.”

Jimin wishes he could get his words out without sputtering, but it’s impossible when the tears won’t stop. “Taehyung…baby…I h-have never t-thought of you as useless.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s not a lie! You’re the most precious person in the world to me! How could I ever think of you as useless when I can’t survive a day without you? It’s only you thinking of yourself that way Taehyung. You’re my everything.”

Jimin dares to step closer, needing to feel any hint of closeness to the younger wolf. Taehyung doesn’t say anything back, sobbing into his hands. He hates that he craves the closeness too. Hates that he’s been craving it for months. Because even in between those nightmares and twisted perceptions, there’s still the good memories. Memories of putting salt in Namjoon’s drink to rebel against him, or replacing Hobi’s shaving cream with whipped cream, or any other one of countless pranks they’d pull on the rest. There’s also other types of memories, of being tangled up in the between the sheets exchanging “I love yous” and forgetting anything outside of the two of them existed. It’s a war within his mind, tugging him back and forth between which Jimin to believe is the real one.

“Tae please…the lab has taken so much away from us already…don’t let it ruin me and you forever.”

The gravity of his words sink down on Taehyung’s shoulders—the prospect of losing his bond with Jimin forever. This Jimin, who seems real and tangible and not the warped one in his nightmare. It’s Taehyung that reaches out this time, head falling onto Jimin’s shoulder as his sobs get more intense. Jimin holds the boy tight, fearing that he’ll slip away any second.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. I got you.”

“I just-I just always feel like I’m not good enough. For this pack. For you. I hate feeling like this all the time. I’m so exhausted Jimin.”

“You’re more than good enough. You don’t need to prove anything for our love. We love you because you’re ours. That’s all you ever need to be—not perfect, just ours.”

___

No one comments on Taehyung and Jimin’s equally puffy eyes during dinner, but everyone does notice them finally sitting next to each other. Namjoon glances over, smiling at the way the two caretaker hybrids have joined hands under the table.

It’s Jimin’s signature trait when reconciling with a packmate—clinging onto them to make up for all the time they’ve been distant. No one else in the pack relies on physical touch quite as much as Jimin, and even now he’s acting as if letting go of the boy’s hand for one second will result in disaster. Taehyung looks a little shy. A little embarrassed at giving in so easily. But he indulges Jimin, nonetheless.

While Namjoon tries to be discreet in his joy, Hoseok has a completely different approach.

“Joonie look! Our pups made up!” He beams with excitement, causing Taehyung to cough into his cup mid-sip.

“Hyung, you’re embarrassing them!”

“I don’t care. Look at them! They’re holding hands!”

Taehyung would be running out the room right now if not for the fact that Hoseok was actually laughing. It’s the first time they’ve heard that laugh in a while now, and the first time you’ve heard it all. You think it might be your new favorite sound.

Taehyung smiles wide, playing into whatever his hyung wants him to, “Hobi hyung, quit teasing!”

“~I won’t. You can’t make me.~” He sing-songs, oblivious to the heart eyes everyone’s shooting at him.

___

Yoongi walks in at around eleven-thirty, the wears of a long workday evident on his face. He’s kicking off his shoes when you enter, wine glass in hand.

“Thought you could use this.”

He thankfully takes the glass, letting the Cabernet Sauvignon hit his nose before taking a much needed sip.

“You’d make a lovely assistant” he quips, grinning at the way you scoff.

“Yeah yeah, drink up boss. I know you had dinner at the office, but there’s leftover pasta if you’re still hungry. Jin was pretty adamant about leaving some for you.”

Yoongi’s heart swells at that.

“He did? Even after what I said yesterday?”

“We all talked about it at dinner, and they understand you were just being protective of me. They aren’t holding it against you—except for Jungkook who had daggers in his eyes when he found out. But he’s not on nice terms with me either sooo…”

“He’s shut you out completely?”

You nod and Yoongi gives you a sympathetic look.

The two of you make your way to the kitchen, where he wastes no time to dig into the pasta, eyes automatically closing the second the rich flavors hit his tongue. You use the time to pour yourself some wine as well, opting for a white option instead of the Sauvignon.

“Damn, Jin can cook.”

“You should have seen in him in the kitchen today, the hormones wearing off has him turning into some kind of Gordon Ramsey clone. He was making snarky comments about literally everything I was doing! I couldn’t hold a knife for two seconds without him telling me I’m doing it all wrong!”

Yoongi throws his head back in laughter, imagining the scene play out in his head.

“Fuck, can’t believe I missed that for paperwork.”

“You’ll see it soon. I have no doubt it’s about to be a common occurrence in this house.” You join in on the laughter.

Yoongi indulges in the delicious alfredo while you catch him up on what’s happened. It’s not long before you’re each finishing up your second glass of wine, feeling a familiar low buzz.

“I’m glad Jimin and Taehyung made up” he comments in between sips.

“You and me both. I can’t imagine all the pain they share. I feel like even hell itself wouldn’t be as cruel as that lab.”

“I think the devil looks up to Kang as inspiration.”

“A-fucking-men to that.” you raise your glass and clink it to his, “On a much lighter note, my mom called today about another marriage proposal.”

“How long before you hung up the phone?”

“Three minutes.”

“Ooh, a new record. Which chaebol was it this time?”

“Jun Hee-Chul.”

Yoongi’s eyes go wide,

“The heir of Jun Tech? The same guy who’s HoloPad venture you shut down?”

“Yup, hilarious right? They’re trying to marry me off to placate Jun Tech and keep the business they bring.”

“And this Hee-Chul guy, he’s not pissed off at you?”

“Nope,” you roll your eyes, “apparently he’s had his sight set on me for a while. Says I’m his ideal type…that he likes a challenge. He’s been married once before fyi, had the girl running out the door the second he told her to be a full-time housewife.”

Yoongi cringes at that, just like you did when you first heard it.

“A proper chaebol sleazeball I see.”

“I just don’t get guys like that. I mean, if you want a housewife, marry a girl who wants to be a housewife. It’s not rocket science.”

Yoongi hums in agreement, grabbing your empty glass before making his way over to do the dishes. You look at him, sleeves rolled up and focused in on scrubbing. The domesticity of it all has you wondering…

“What about you, Yoongi?”

He quirks up a brow, “What about me?”

“What’s your ideal type? You never really talk about it. What kind of girl would you marry?”

“Oh, I’m not picky. I only have one requirement,” He breaks out into a mischievous grin, “She has to be filthy rich.”

You lightly swat his arm, making him swat back and get some of the soapy water on you, both of you grinning like idiots.

“I’m asking seriously!”

“What makes you think my lifelong dream to become a trophy husband isn’t serious?”

“Oh, so you just want to be arm-candy for some fortune 500 socialite? Then why don’t I ever see you playing the field at those charity events?”

Because I’m too busy staring at you the whole time.

“A guy as charming as me doesn’t need to go out and try y/n. They’ll all come to me in no time.”

“Oh yeah? Are you some type of hidden Cassanova that I don’t know about?”

“Exactly. I have to keep it hidden or else you’d fall for me in an instant.”

He’s done washing, but it’s in an instant that you’ve got him trapped, caged between your body and the sink. Eyes playfully challenging his statement.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Work your magic on me. I want to see if you’re as good as you say you are.”

His eyes dart to every other part of the kitchen, trying not to think of how nice your perfume smells or how close your body is to his.

“You were saying you could swoop any girl off her feet, but now you can’t even look at me. You’re going to have to work really hard if you want to charm a socialite, Mr.Cassanova.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the wine or the way you’re egging him on (probably a dangerous combination of both), but it’s the final push he needs.

Because in the next moment, he’s not looking around anymore. He’s not looking at anything—his eyes are closed tight the second his lips dip down to meet yours. It’s a gentle peck, but it’s most nerve-wracking thing he’s ever done. Panic pulls him back instantly as he scans your face, searching for any indication of how you feel. But your expression is unreadable.

____

A/N: Comments, reblogs, and asks really help keep up with these weekly updates, so please let me know what you think!

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