#and then I’m going on vacation!! So I will stay off my screen and live my actual life like a healthy person :] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

proxima-writes · 1 year

Note

I’d like to request a boyfriends dad fic where reader is on vacation with their family and Joel gets handsy with her but she convinces herself it’s okay. Then when her boyfriends ditches her Joel fucks her. Bonus points if boyfriend comes back super drunk while Joel is fucking reader and Joel just puts his hand over her mouth and continues fucjing her and bf passes by them but doesn’t notice 🤷🏻‍♀️

Just some thots…if it inspires you a fic/Drabble would be awesome

I may have....gotten carried away with this one.

title: karma is my boyfriend's dad

pairing: boyfriend's dad!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6588

summary:

Your boyfriend, Sean Miller, is an asshole. The one redeeming thing about him?

His dad, Joel Miller.

And he's just invited you along on the family vacation to Panama City Beach, Florida.

author’s note: thank you for the request!! this was a fun one. my 1000 follower mark is quickly approaching and i cant wait to do something fun for it! thank you for all your support and love so far 💕

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, alternate universe - boyfriend’s dad, age difference (21F and 56M), power imbalance dynamics, infidelity, asshole boyfriend, alcohol use, sunscreen as a flirting mechanism, reader wearing a bathing suit, touching in public, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, almost getting caught, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, sex against a door. let me know if any are missing!

Sean Miller is a shitty boyfriend. He constantly ditches you to hang out with his frat brothers, he’s left you at parties by yourself, he’s forgotten birthdays and anniversaries and, to top it all off, he’s never made you come. You’ve been with the guy for two years and not a single orgasm in all that time.

You deserve better. You deserve orgasms.

The only redeeming thing about Sean is his dad, Joel Miller.

Joel is the textbook definition of a DILF. He’s tall and broad with dark curly hair streaked with gray and kind brown eyes. Even approaching the upper fifties in age, he’s built like a tank. Wide shoulders and biceps that stretch his flannel shirts to the point where you’ll sometimes sit there willing a thread to pop, his thick thighs and a tight ass always hugged by the most sinful pair of Levi’s.

But besides looking like sin, Joel is kind. There’s been more than one occasion where Sean had forgotten your plans, leaving you waiting at his house where he still lives with his dad and Joel would always take pity on you and invite you to watch a movie with him, the two of you sitting on opposite sides of the couch while he played a comedy to cheer you up. On your birthday, he sent you a Starbucks gift card and a text when his own son didn’t even remember. When you would update him on how school was going, he’d always pat your shoulder and say, “‘Atta girl.”

That last memory in particular always makes your tummy erupt with butterflies.

In the last few months, things with Sean have been especially strained. He’s started hiding his phone from you, flipping the screen face down anytime you’re within arms reach of him. On the rare nights he spends at your apartment, he’ll get calls that he insists on taking privately.

Honestly, you were more than ready to end it before Joel caught you in his kitchen one day and asked if you wanted to come with him and Sean on their vacation to Panama City Beach.

“Really? I thought this was supposed to be, like, a guy’s trip?” You ask. You stayed the night last night and Sean was still asleep, always one to sleep until noon if given the opportunity. Joel is making coffee while you sit at the bar.

Joel shrugs. “I’m sure he’d want his girl there. You two can party and leave the old man behind for his bedtime,” he says with a playful smile that makes your heart flutter.

“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Miller, but there’s no way I can afford a ticket to Florida right now.” You reach for the cup he offers, only for him to pull it back out of reach.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover everythin’,” he replies. “Say yes and you can have your coffee.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a burden.”

Joel’s fingers brush against yours as he hands you your warm mug. A shiver runs down your spine at the contact.

“I’m positive, darlin’.”

________

Joel knows that his son treats you like shit, and he fucking hates it. He’s tried to talk some sense into the kid but all his wisdom just goes in one ear and out the other. He has to pretend that he doesn’t hear him bringing other girls over and it eats him up inside because he wants you to know, wants you to have better, but if he tells you, he’s severing the one tie he has to you and what then? He’s fifty-six, over thirty years your senior. He’s lived over two lifetimes in the course of your one. There’s no way in hell you’d look at him twice, and that’s not even including the fact that he’s your boyfriend’s dad.

Joel’s not sure what possessed him to invite you on vacation. You’re right, it was supposed to be a guy’s trip, a gift from Joel to Sean for his twenty-first birthday that was unfortunately right in the middle of his finals. He knows damn well Sean is, in fact, not going to be happy that you’ve been invited along. He’s certain the younger man fully intended to turn his hotel room into a revolving door for women he picked up at the bars along the beach, one time flings he could write off before returning home to a sure thing.

He tells Sean about the change of plans that evening over dinner. His son whines petulantly, slamming his fork down on the table.

“Dad, seriously? Why the fuck would you invite her, this is gonna ruin everything,” he says.

“Shouldn’t be talkin’ ‘bout your girlfriend like that,” Joel admonishes. Sean rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t even put out anymore, I don’t even know why I keep her around. I should just break up with her before the trip.”

Joel’s jaw clenches with frustration. “I already bought her ticket. She’s comin’ whether you like it or not and that’s final.”

“Fuck this shit,” Sean says, chair scraping across the floor as he stands. “Whatever. Won’t stop me from having a good time.”

Joel’s counting on it.

________

Joel and Sean pick you up from your apartment at 4 am for the 7 am flight to Florida. Your boyfriend is passed out in the front passenger seat, but Joel shakes him awake and tells him to get in the back. The younger man grumbles but does as he’s told while Joel helps you load your luggage into the bed of the truck. The trip will last four days, so you’ve squeezed everything into a single carry on and your backpack.

After all, it’s Florida. You plan on spending every day in a bikini.

Sean passes back out as you settle in his vacated seat, placing your travel mug of coffee in the cup holder besides Joel’s. He gives you a polite smile as he puts the truck in reverse, placing his arm on the back of the seat and twisting to look out the rear window, his other hand deftly turning the wheel.

You can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, your core already aching at his proximity.

You’re in for a long four days.

_______

The three of you make it through airport security quickly, the early hour lending some reprieve from the crowds.

“Why is this flight so fucking early?” Sean grouses, slumped in one of the uncomfortable terminal seats.

“Did you want more or less time in Florida?” Joel replies, flipping through his newspaper.

“Whatever,” Sean replies with a roll of his eyes, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up and burrowing into it.

You return from your quest for breakfast at that moment, a white paper bag in your hands and a bright smile on your face as you sit between the two men.

“I got you a bagel,” you say to Joel, pulling a plain bagel wrapped in wax paper from the bag.

“You get me anything?” Sean asks, peeking from beneath his hood. Your shoulders drop.

“Oh…no. You don’t usually eat breakfast,” you reply. Sean groans. “We can share mine?” You offer.

“No, it’s fine, whatever. Thanks for thinking of me.”

Joel’s brow pinches in irritation, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he watches your smile fade into a frown as you look at the bag in your hands. He nudges you with his shoulder.

“Hey, I appreciate it,” he tells you quietly. You give him a tentative smile.

He misses the bright one.

________

“I call window,” Sean says when the three of you have boarded the plane, flopping into the seat after haphazardly tossing his bag into an overhead compartment without waiting for a reply.

Joel fixes his son’s bag before settling his own beside it and turning to hold a hand out for yours. You hand your duffel over to him with a quiet, “Thank you.”

“Which seat do you want, darlin’?” Joel asks you.

“I can sit in the middle,” you offer, scooching past him in the tight space. Your back brushes his chest and he catches a whiff of your strawberry shampoo, the scent making his mouth water.

He sits beside you, tucking his backpack beneath the seat in front of him. Your thigh brushes his as you get comfortable in your seat, the row a tight squeeze for the three of you.

“How long is this flight?” You ask, pulling a pair of headphones from your backpack. Sean’s already unconscious again, his head tilted against the window and his mouth open in a snore.

“‘Bout two hours,” Joel says. You nod, shifting in your seat again. Your shoulders knock into his when you do, and you give him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Tight fit,” you tell him. He swallows around the lump in his throat.

He can think of something else that would be a tight fit.

The flight attendants go through their pre-flight duties and take-off occurs without any issue. When they give the green light to use electronics, you pull out your phone, cursing when the screen remains black even as you hit the power button.

“My phone died,” you explain. He smiles sympathetically.

“You wanna watch a movie on mine? I downloaded a couple,” he offers.

“Sure. We can share my headphones?”

“Good idea.”

Joel plugs your headphones into the jack on his phone and passes you the right earbud before sticking the left one in his own ear. He queues up a movie, some action film called Triple Frontier that seemed interesting based on the synopsis, and holds the phone on his lap. You lean into him, that strawberry scent settling over him once again.

You keep fidgeting in your seat, twisting and readjusting your upper body against the arm rest between your seats. After the third time, he reaches down and flips it up, your body slumping closer to his. When he looks down at you, your face is tilted up towards his and he has to concentrate very hard to keep his gaze trained on your eyes.

“Thanks,” you whisper before returning your attention to the movie. “Hey, that guy kinda looks like you.”

________

The flight passes quickly, much to Joel’s dismay. He would have liked to keep sitting pressed up beside you for longer.

At the car rental facility, Joel gets handed the keys to a Jeep Wrangler. Sean’s eyes light up when he sees it.

“Can I drive?” He asks.

Joel sighs. “Fine, just be careful would ya?”

Sean lowers the soft top before hopping in the driver’s seat. Joel insists that you sit in the front passenger, because he’s a gentleman, but he quickly regrets the choice.

With the top down and the music blaring, Sean is in a relatively good mood. He’s smiling at you and even reaches over to grab your hand, pulling it towards him to press a kiss to the back of it. Joel can feel the tug of jealousy in his gut as he watches you smile back at him but there’s nothing that he can do about that.

After all, you’re Sean’s girl.

And he’s just going to have to live with that.

________

Sean is standing behind you with his hands on your hips, lips trailing kisses along the exposed skin of your shoulder in your tank top while Joel is speaking with the hotel clerk, checking into the rooms. You squirm away from Sean’s attention, the man dropping his hands from you and frowning.

“Why are you being such a prude?” He snaps.

“I’m not being a prude,” you say with a sigh. “Your dad is right there.”

He tries to pull you back towards him with an arm around your waist. “Come on, babe. He’s probably already heard you moaning my name,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Not likely, you think.

“I just don’t think it’s appropriate.” You step out of his grasp again as Joel approaches, holding three key cards.

“Room 102 for the two of you,” he says, handing two of the cards to Sean. “And I’m in 104, if y’all need anything.”

“Great,” Sean says, grabbing your hand. “Come on, let’s go put our stuff away.”

You trail behind Sean, but can’t help looking back at Joel.

You’re surprised to find his dark gaze already fixed on you.

________

“Come on, let’s go find a bar,” Sean whines. You’ve just left the bathroom after changing out of your travel outfit of leggings and into a bikini and a sheer cover-up dress.

“It’s so early. I highly doubt there are any bars open. Besides, I need to charge my phone,” you tell him, packing a tote bag with your sunscreen, a book, your copy of the room key, and your sunglasses. “Why don’t we go to the pool?”

“It’s PCB, babe, there’s bound to be a bar open,” Sean says with a roll of his eyes. “But if you wanna be boring then by all means, go to the pool.”

You sigh. “You do whatever you want, Sean.”

He grabs his wallet from the nightstand, shoving it into his pocket. “Fine. I will. Come find me when you’re done being such a fucking bitch.”

The door slams behind him as he leaves, the sudden noise making you jump in surprise.

You can’t even find it in yourself to be upset.

________

Joel’s just opening the door to his room when he hears his son’s raised voice across the hall. He freezes, the door half open as he listens.

“Fine. I will. Come find me when you’re done being a fucking bitch,” Sean says before slamming the door.

Anger courses through Joel’s veins as he listens to his son’s heavy footsteps echo down the hall. He takes a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, before opening the door fully and crossing the hall to knock on your door.

When you open the door, you look surprised to see him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Joel has to make a conscious effort to not let his eyes wander your body. He can see the neon pink strings of your bikini tied around your neck and god does he want to see more.

He clears his throat. “Hey. Everythin’ alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. I was just about to go to the pool,” you tell him.

“I’ll come with you,” Joel immediately offers without thinking.

“If you’re sure. I don’t want to get in the way of any plans you had, Mr. Miller,” you mutter.

“I’m sure.”

________

Joel sets some hotel towels on loungers positioned beside each other on a sunny part of the pool deck. The pool is fairly busy and to your surprise there’s a live DJ and a bartender is already making a steady flow of drinks behind the poolside bar. The pool itself is huge and even boasts its own lazy river that you’re looking forward to floating down.

Your attention is dragged to Joel once more as he reaches for the hem of his t-shirt, lifting it up. Your mouth goes dry as you watch his back muscles work, rippling beneath miles of tan skin that you want to trace with your fingertips.

You shake your head free of thought and remove your coverup while his back is still turned, stuffing it into your tote bag you’ve dropped beside the lounger. You pull out your sunscreen and sunglasses, slipping them over your eyes to combat the harsh Florida sun.

When you look up, you’re surprised to find Joel already watching you, gaze fixed squarely on your chest. You clear your throat, wiggling the sunscreen bottle at him.

“You want me to get your back?” You offer.

“Sure. Thanks,” he replies, voice rough. You have to fight the urge to rub your thighs together for relief from the ache between them, your brain conjuring scenarios of that deep timbre in your ear telling you how good you feel around him.

He sits on the lounger with his back to you, waiting for your next move. You squirt some sunscreen into your palm, rubbing your hands together before smoothing it across his back. His shoulders tense briefly at the first touch of your hands before he goes lax against you, his head dropping as you smooth the lotion on him.

You get lost in the feeling of his skin beneath your fingertips as you drag your hands over the broad muscles of his back and shoulders and down his spine. In a moment of bravery, or stupidity, you let your fingers drag the tiniest bit beneath the elastic of his navy swim shorts, just enough that it could be passed off as an honest mistake.

When you’re finished, you hand the bottle to him over his shoulder. He takes it silently, lathering the rest of his body while you adjust your lounger flat and lay face down. You reach behind your back, tugging at the strings of your bikini until they fall to the side.

“Could you do me next?”

________

Joel takes a seat on the lounger, his hips brushing yours. He’s hard as a fucking rock in his swim shorts, has been from the moment you opened your hotel door wearing your sheer coverup, pink bikini taunting him beneath.

It was a stupid fucking idea to ask you to come to the pool with him. He was clearly thinking with the head in his pants and not the one on his shoulders because he didn’t stop to consider that he’d be getting a front seat to the soft skin of your thighs and tummy, the curve of your waist and ass and breasts on full display for him to commit to memory.

And now you were asking him to touch you. Giving him permission to have his hands on the same flesh he imagines when he’s gripping his cock roughly in his palm and chasing an orgasm that offers hardly any relief.

He swallows nervously before uncapping the sunscreen and squirting it directly on your back. You give a little yelp of surprise, the lotion no doubt unexpectedly cold, but you settle back down when he smooths a palm across your back.

You’ve untied the strings of your top, leaving him with no obstacles as he works the lotion into your skin. He loses himself in the repetitive motion, smoothing his hands across your shoulders and down your spine like you had done to him. He lets his thumbs press into the divot of your lower back, fighting the urge to drag them beneath the scant bit of fabric covering your ass.

As he finishes, he drags his hands back up your sides, his fingertips dragging across the soft skin of the exposed sides of your breasts. He feels the hitch in your breathing as he does and he worries for a moment that perhaps he’s gone too far.

“Thanks,” you say, voice breathy. “Would you mind getting my legs for me? I don’t want to get up.”

Joel thinks he should mind. He should absolutely mind being asked by his son’s girlfriend to rub lotion into her back and legs. The action is too intimate, it’s crossing a line and he knows this.

He just can’t bring himself to give a fuck anymore.

Wordlessly, Joel squirts some more sunscreen into his palm, this time warming it between his hands before smoothing it on your legs, starting with your calves. He slides his palms up your legs, high enough that his fingertips brush the crease where the curve of your ass meets your thigh. Your legs spread just the slightest bit and Joel lets his thumbs drift toward your inner thighs.

He’s playing with fire now as he presses his thumbs deeper, higher, the tip of one even grazing your bikini bottoms. He desperately wants to slide it beneath the elastic, to drag his thumb through your slit and find out if you’re wet just from the touch of his hands.

But Joel pulls his hands away and stands, moving over to his own lounger and laying facedown on the towel covered cushion. His dick presses uncomfortably into his thigh and he uses that discomfort as a means to will the hardness away.

He’s in for a long four days.

________

Your pool day with Joel runs from the early morning to the late afternoon. Neither of you hear from Sean during that time, but you can’t find it in yourself to be bothered. Not when Joel Miller is sitting beside you in an inner tube, floating down a lazy river as you talk about everything and nothing, drops of water clinging to his skin and catching the light. You could stay in a moment like this forever so long as he’s there, too.

As the intensity of the sun starts to wane, Joel suggests finding somewhere to get dinner.

“Pick somewhere nice, though. My treat,” he says as you’re parting ways at your hotel room doors. He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, shutting his door and leaving you smiling in the hallway like a girl with a crush.

You let yourself into your hotel room, not surprised to find it empty. Your phone is still sitting on the charger with no new notifications. The part of you that’s been in a relationship with Sean Miller for two years feels a pang of sadness at your boyfriend’s silence.

The part that wants to fuck his dad doesn’t give a shit.

You shower and change into a sundress before slipping your sandals back on. Checking the time, you grab your bag and head to the lobby to meet up with Joel.

Joel’s already in the lobby, leaning against the wall near the exit and scrolling through his phone. He’s wearing a light blue short sleeve button down that hugs his biceps deliciously, the tan of his skin popping against the fabric, his usual boots, and khakis. You were almost certain this man didn’t own anything besides perfectly broken in Wranglers. His hair is combed back, still damp from his shower, and he looks so good you have to consciously stop your jaw from dropping.

“Hey, you pick a place?” Joel asks as you approach, slipping his phone into the pocket of his pants.

“There’s an oyster bar nearby that looks good,” you reply. He holds the door open for you, broad palm ghosting across your low back as you exit the cool hotel lobby and out into the hot Florida night. The traffic on the sidewalk is thick, people moving like the nearby ocean as they ebb and flow from place to place.

“You hear from Sean at all?” Joel asks as you navigate the crowds, his arm brushing yours as he sticks close to your side. You shake your head and Joel sighs. “I’m sorry. I love the kid, I do, but goddamn if he doesn’t piss me off sometimes.”

You sigh. “It’s not your fault, Mr. Miller. You don’t have to apologize for him.”

You’re both quiet after that. You don’t know what’s going through Joel’s head as you sneak a glance at him and catch only his furrowed brow and tense jaw.

You nearly pass the restaurant in your distraction, but Joel catches you by the arm, tugging you with him to the entrance.

It’s a cute little bar and restaurant, the kind of place that’s cozy without being horribly cramped. The lighting is dim and booths line the walls while tables sit in the middle, candles flickering and casting shadows on the walls and across the white tablecloths.

The hostess seats you at one of the booths, tucked away in the corner. You sit across from Joel, setting your bag beside you after digging your phone out from it. When the waitress walks away without leaving menus, Joel looks adorably confused.

“You have to use your phone,” you tell him with a giggle. “They have the QR code menus.”

“I’m gettin’ too old for this shit,” Joel complains. You roll your eyes, standing and moving over to his side of the booth, settling beside him. His thigh presses to yours and you’re acutely aware of the contact as you lean close to share your phone screen with him.

When the waitress returns, you place your drink and food orders. Joel opts for whiskey, neat, and a medium rare steak because you can take the man out of Texas but you can’t take Texas out of the man. You order a spicy pineapple margarita and a plate of herb crusted oysters.

You should probably move back over to the other side of the booth, but you don’t want to. The feel of his body pressed to yours lights up your nerve endings in an unfamiliar way, his clean woodsy smell settling over you like a comforting blanket. He doesn’t say anything about how you remain seated next to him, just turns his head to talk to you.

The drinks arrive first. The sour tang of the pineapple makes your face pucker when you take a sip, making Joel laugh. You might be imagining it, but you think his gaze lingers on your lips for just a beat too long to be coincidence. You cross your legs beneath the table, squeezing your thighs together for some semblance of relief from the ache between your legs.

A second round of drinks is ordered and delivered while you talk about a TV show you both enjoy. This drink leaves you feeling pleasantly fuzzy around the edges. Joel makes a joke about one of the recent episodes and it makes you laugh so hard you’re leaning against him for support.

You place your hand on his thigh close to his knee. Joel tenses beside you but doesn’t say anything, his eyes dark over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip. You can’t bring yourself to look away but you’re also frozen in place, not daring to drag your hand further up. The spell between you is broken when the waitress drops by with your trays of food, setting them on the table and walking away with a request for another round of drinks from Joel.

“These look amazing,” you say, squeezing lemon over them. Joel’s started to cut into his steak, inspecting the center and giving a tiny nod of approval that makes you smile. “Hey, did you know oysters are an aphrodisiac?”

Joel coughs on the piece of steak he’d been eating, reaching for his whiskey and tossing the rest back as he swallows. “They’re what now?”

________

“Aphrodisiacs. They increase your sex drive,” you say, your lips wrapping around the bite poised on your fork. Your eyes flutter shut as you let out a little moan of satisfaction. “God, these are better than sex.”

“Must not be havin’ very good sex, then,” Joel immediately responds without thinking. His hand freezes halfway between his plate and his mouth, his eyes going wide as his brain catches up to his mouth. “Sorry that...that wasn’t appropriate.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Miller,” you say, patting his knee. Your hand lingers there again, the second time this evening, and it makes Joel’s brain misfire. This whole dinner has been a test of his self-control and he is quickly fraying at the edges the longer you sit pressed beside him, that god forsaken strawberry scent flooding his senses.

The waitress delivers the third round of drinks and your hand leaves his thigh to pick yours up and take a sip. His eyes track the way your lips wrap around the straw, mind wandering to something else he’d like to see them wrapped around.

He takes a sip of his own drink, letting the burn of the whiskey down his throat distract him. The third drink is making his mind spin, a voice in his head urging him to trace his fingers along the exposed skin of your thigh beneath the table. He sets his hand on his own thigh, casual as can be.

You’re telling Joel a story about the time a guy in one of your classes was so hungover he fell asleep in the middle of an exam but Joel can barely concentrate. His eyes keep lingering on your lips and trail lower, lower, lower, over the delicate line of your neck, the dip at the base of your throat, the swell of your breasts.

Joel stretches his pinky, the tip of his finger barely skimming the soft skin of your thigh. He watches your face for a reaction and finding none, he feels emboldened. He inches his hand closer, his ring finger joining his pinky in caressing you.

He’s focused on your face, watching for any indication that you notice what he’s up to beneath the tablecloth. He holds his breath as his fingers dip beneath the hem of your dress. You stutter in your story, tripping over your words and Joel’s fingers pause in their exploration.

Joel shouldn’t be doing this. He should pull his hand back and forget any of this happened, forget the silky smooth feel of your skin beneath his fingers, forget the way your smile lit up your face as he floated down the lazy river beside you.

Then you’re tilting your head, eyes boring into him like you can see right through him, see every depraved thought running through his head and your knee presses more tightly to his, your legs spreading beneath the table and Joel’s hand sliding to your inner thigh with the movement.

“Can I get y’all anything else?”

Joel rips his hand from your leg and swallows guiltily as he looks up at the waitress standing beside the booth. You sit up straighter, your heat leaving his side and he curses the interruption.

Perhaps it was for the best, though.

You’re still Sean’s girlfriend, after all.

________

Your skin is buzzing with the liquor in your veins and the phantom feel of Joel’s touch on your thighs. The man is quiet on the walk back, brooding even. His brow is furrowed, jaw tense, hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants like it’ll stop him from touching you again.

The thought makes you downright giddy.

“Thanks for dinner, Mr. Miller,” you say as you stand in front of the doors of your respective rooms.

He gives you a tight smile. “‘Course, darlin’. Have a good night,” he tells you before disappearing into his room, the heavy door shutting behind him and echoing in the hall.

You swipe the key for your room, opening the door to find it still dark, everything the same as you left it. You drop your bag on one of the beds, pulling your phone out to check if you have any missed messages and finding none.

The silence from Sean is the answer to a question you didn’t know you were asking.

You leave your room, crossing the hall to knock on Joel’s door. The man answers a moment later, already changed into a t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks, opening the door wider.

“Left my key in the room,” you reply. “You mind if I stay with you for a bit?”

You can see the struggle flash across Joel’s brown eyes, but it’s just as quickly swallowed by a shade of lust that makes your breath hitch.

“Sure, darlin’,” he finally says, stepping back and making room for you to cross the threshold.

You turn to face him when the door shuts. You can’t tell who makes the first move, only that one moment you’re staring at each other and the next your body is being pulled against his, thick fingers digging into your hair and pulling your mouth to his in a bruising kiss.

He turns your bodies, your back hitting the door as his mouth continues to explore, his tongue dipping between your lips to tangle with yours. He tastes like whiskey and feels like sin, his broad body pressing against yours. Your arms wind around his shoulders, pulling him towards you desperately like he’s the air you need to breathe.

“Fuck,” Joel groans against your mouth. “Been wantin’ to touch you so goddamn bad, you have no fuckin’ idea.”

His hands drag up your hips and over your waist, fabric of your dress bunching in his fists. He looks down between your bodies, watching as he slides a thick thigh between your legs, the sudden pressure against your sensitive core making you gasp. You rock against the hard muscle, unable to fight back a whimper at how good it feels.

“That feel good, baby?” Joel asks, lips close to your ear. “Come on, darlin’ move a little faster for me, that’s it.”

His hands grip your hips, urging your movements over his thigh. Your head tips back against the door with a thud as you gasp. His lips trail hot kisses across your jaw and neck, his teeth nipping at the skin just over your pulse point. One of his hands drags the strap of your dress down, exposing your breast to the cool air of the room, your nipples going tight with equal parts chill and anticipation.

Joel rubs a thumb across the tight bud, almost reverently, before bringing his mouth to it, pulling it between his lips and swirling it with his tongue. The sensation makes your hips move faster over his thigh and you can feel how slick you are in your panties with each thrust.

“You have any idea,” Joel groans, other hand leaving your hip and ripping the opposite strap down so that he can give your nipple the same attention, “how fuckin’ hard it is, huh? To keep my fuckin’ head on straight when you walk around lookin’ like an angel that a devil like me don’t deserve?”

“Joel,” you moan, your chest heaving with strained breaths as just this man’s thigh brings you closer to relief than your boyfriend ever has. “Joel, please!”

“Please what, sweetheart? I’m already in this deep, you gotta know I’d give ya anythin’,” he says. “You wanna cum, baby? Wanna soak my thigh for me, get these pants all messy so that I can’t think of anythin’ but you when I gotta wear them for another three days?”

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, your orgasm cresting unexpectedly. Your legs clamp tight around his thigh, the aftershocks coursing through you with surprising ferocity. When your grip on him loosens, the man drops to his knees, looking up at you with a wicked gleam in his dark brown eyes.

“How’d that feel, baby?” He asks, running his hands up the outside of your legs until his fingertips find the elastic of your panties, easing the fabric down your thighs while he waits for a response.

“G-good,” you mumble, feeling a bit self-conscious in the aftermath. You’d just come from nothing but grinding against this man’s thigh for crying out loud. You reach up to fix your dress straps, but a pinch to your inner thigh has you yelping in surprise.

“Nuh uh, wanna see those gorgeous tits when I look up at you,” Joel admonishes. You can feel your cheeks heating, blood rushing to your face from just his words.

He lifts your leg, draping it over his shoulder. The position leaves you a little off kilter, your hands landing on his head for balance.

“I’m gonna eat this pretty little pussy now, okay?” He says, rather than asks. He gives you no time to respond, leaning in to lick through your folds with a deep, satisfied groan. You cry out from the overstimulation to your sensitive clit, your fingers pulling against his hair. He hums, the vibrations pulsing through your bundle of nerves and making you damn near sob at the sensation.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” is all you can manage to say, a slur of his name as his tongue circles your clit and dips inside your entrance, messy slides of it through your folds as he drinks you up. You look down briefly, only to find him staring right back at you, his heated stare making your blood boil.

“Gimme one more, baby, and then I need to get you on my cock,” he groans before doubling his efforts, licking and sucking and nipping at your flesh until you’re sobbing out his name as you come for a second time. “Fuck, that’s it. Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls.

He stands, shoving his pajama pants down his thighs, his cock bobbing free. The thick length of it makes your mouth practically water as you watch him give it a few rough tugs. He smirks at you, reaching down to lift one of your legs, holding it up with the crook of his elbow at the back of your knee. The position leaves you spread wide for him as he takes his cock in his other hand, positioning the thick head at your soaked entrance.

“Tell me you want this,” he demands, the tip barely pushing inside of you.

“I want this,” you repeat dutifully. He shakes his head.

“No, sweetheart. Wanna hear you say you want my cock.”

You whine, the sound damn near pitiful to your ears. “Please, Joel, I want your cock.”

“There’s my good girl,” he says with a smile, finally easing into you with a burning stretch that makes you gasp. “Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight.”

You moan as he bottoms out, hips pressing to yours. He kisses whatever skin he can reach as he gives you a moment to adjust before pulling out nearly all the way and thrusting sharply back inside, punching the air from your lungs as his cock drags against your g-spot with each thrust.

There’s a pounding at your back and a shout of your name, followed by, “Dad! Where the fuck is everyone?”

Your eyes go wide and Joel’s hips slow but to your shock, they don’t stop. He brings a hand to your jaw, fingers pressing to your cheek as he slips his thumb between your lips and shushes you.

“Haven’t seen her,” Joel shouts back, even as his eyes never leave yours. Your walls flutter around his cock as he continues to thrust, sharp but controlled so as not to make a lot of noise that can be heard on the other side of the door. “You should check the hotel bar. Said she might get some drinks there if you weren’t back when we finished dinner.”

“You guys went to dinner without me? That’s fuckin’ bullshit,” Sean whines. “Fine, whatever, I didn’t even want to see her anyways. Found me a blonde that I can bring back to the room instead.”

Joel’s eyes flash with rage and you shake your head gently. When Sean’s footsteps indicate he’s left, Joel’s hips resume a more punishing rhythm. He withdraws his thumb from your mouth as his hand slides lower, circling your throat possessively instead. You gasp, moaning loudly as your body relents to a third orgasm that leaves your vision fuzzy at the edges.

Joel’s own movements stutter before he’s pulling out, his cum splashing against your tummy as he grinds his cock against your hip, finishing with a gasp of your name.

You lean against him as you catch your breath, enjoying the feel of his hands smoothing over your hair.

“You okay?” He asks.

You grin at him. “Never been better, Mr. Miller.”

Sean may have found a blonde, but you’ve found your way into bed with his dad.

Karma’s funny like that.

Joel Miller taglist:

@huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-catt @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu @Sadbloatedegg @dimitra300 @thesolarangell @pedrotonin @ievutebebee @peterrthree @worhols @lonesomecowboah @taraiel

Want more Joel Miller? Check out the master list.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #boyfriend’s dad!joel miller #alternate universe

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porschesbabydaddy · 9 months

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Kinnporsche Fuck Ranking

As the name suggests, this list is a ranking of which character I think fuck from the least to the most. This is based off vibes alone, with absolutely no regard for cananical evidence. If you disagree with me that’s fine but please remember that I’m far too pretty for arguing online so I will not be accepting criticism, constructive or otherwise.

#10) Kim

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- Kim would rather die than be physically or emotionally vulnerable with someone. He saw Tawan leading Kinn around by his dick and said “yeah no not for me thanks”

#9) Pete

Honestly I think sex and sexuality is so low on Pete’s list of priorities before he met Vegas that the desire to fuck never really struck him. This has changed now that he’s living his best and most freaknasty life, but he’ll have to do quite a bit of fucking to catch up to everyone else

#8) Big

Big only fucks when the loneliness gets too heavy to handle. He either chooses men who look too much like Kinn, or look like his complete opposite. Either way it’s not a healthy choice

#7) Chay

Now this is going to come as a shock to some people, but you can’t tell me that a teenage boy with a frequently empty house and a healthy libido isn’t getting up to funny business. The limited edition Wik merch stays ON during sex

#6) Tankhun

Another controversial one, I know. While Tankhun may not fuck in the traditional sense, he’s got a devoted harem of discord kittens and he’s inventing new ways to have cybersex that should be studied by scientists

#5) Ken

There isn’t much to say here. Ken is a nasty little thotty who died making it clap on Instagram

#4) Kinn

Kinn only ranks so low because he’s a very busy man. He has to pencil his dick appointments into his Google Calendar, it’s a whole thing

#3) Porsche

Little Miss “bartending is my sidegig, fucking rich women for tips is my real job.” He took to gay sex like a duck takes to water, and that’s because sluttery is his calling

#2) Vegas

Vegas fucks like it’s his job, and that is NOT a compliment. Take a vacation day babygirl, the slut factory can afford to go without you for one day. Or at least have some orange slices and water, replenish your energy

#1) Yok

do I even need to give an explanation for this? Just look at her. Assume that whenever Yok isn’t on screen, she’s having incredibly hot and wildly acrobatic sex. Side note: She and Tankhun should have smashed tbh

#kinnporsche #kprewatch2023 #important scientific research

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janaispunk · 7 months

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only bought this dress so you could take it off

series masterlist • this is part I

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: I was on my summer vacation last week, and I’m suffering from severe Dave York brainrot lately, which inspired a vivid daydream of Dave taking me on a little trip and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I was planning to keep it a oneshot, but there are so many more ideas for this floating around in my head, so a part 2 miiight be happening. Please read the warnings, this one’s nasty! (it’s the murder daddy energy)

word count: ~10.4k (this was supposed to be a nice little pwp, idk what happened) (Dave was holding me at gun-point)

summary: You have been sleeping with Dave York for a few months, keeping things casual, when he suggests to go on vacation together. You’re not sure what to expect, but you agree, and Dave takes very good care of you.

warnings: bits of angst, dubious morality (Dave is cheating on his wife), kinda unhealthy relationship dynamics, age-gap implied, alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, Dave pulls her hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, rough sex, semi-public touching, sir kink, degradation kink, rough oral sex (m receiving), unprotected piv (reader is on bc in my head, but it’s not mentioned in the fic), dirty talk, Dave is a menace, spanking, choking, edging, spit kink, restraints, idiots in love, let me know if I missed any!

this is explicit 18+ content, minors do not interact pleaseeeee

Your phone starts buzzing on your work desk around 8 AM. You just got into the office and are starring at your monitor blankly, nursing a to-go cup of too expensive coffee and questioning your life choices. A regular Tuesday really.

You groan and flick your eyes down to your phone, your mind way too exhausted to deal with whoever is trying to contact you right now. You read the name on the screen and do a double take, your tiredness immediately forgotten. You hastily grab the device and press the green button to accept the call.

“Hey,” you say, trying your best not to sound just as eager as you suddenly feel. He doesn’t need to know the effect a simple call from him has on you.

“Good morning, sweetheart. What took you so long to answer, huh?” his voice sounds in your ear, calm and composed as always, but with a hint of teasing. You bite your lip, thankful that he can’t see how just hearing him speak has a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“S-sorry, just work and everything, you know?”

You can’t help the little sigh that you let out -work really has been a nightmare lately- and he chuckles sympathetically.

“You poor thing. Speaking of work, I actually have a favor to ask you.”

He knows fully well that he doesn’t need to ask you favors - you’d give him everything he wants, without question. His usual demanding tone is lacing his words and you involuntary clench your thighs together. God, you’re down so bad for this man.

This, as you need to keep reminding yourself, married man, who lives the perfect suburban life with his wife and their two kids. He’s not in love with you, you’re well aware of that, and you’re trying your hardest not to fall in love with him either.

You don’t know what exactly is going on between him and his wife and you don’t pry. He’s told you that things between them aren’t working out anymore and that they’ve agreed to stay together and play happy family until their girls are older. You’re not dumb, you know that this is the kind of story that every cheating man tells the other woman. And you’d probably call him out on his bullshit, if he were any other man. Hell, you wouldn’t have gotten involved with any other married man in the first place.

But Dave isn’t just any man and he’s got you wrapped around his finger ever since you met in a hotel bar a few months ago. You had just been stood up at said bar and Dave had been on a business trip, spending the night there. He came up to you, looking more handsome than any man should have the right to, bought you a drink and had you following him up to his room in the blink of an eye, which led to sex that was easily the best you had ever had.

Now, Dave calls you regularly, mostly when he’s close enough to meet up, but also some nights when he whispers filthy things into your ear until you come on your own fingers because he is too far away to put his hands on you.

You like to think that he cares about you, that you’re not just the willing means to an end and that you can actually give him something that he can’t get anywhere else. Something soft, a person that cares for him and gives him the chance to be soft as well. Because they exist, those moments of softness, in between tangled sheets and laughs shared in the darkness of your room, his fingers mindlessly dancing over your body when he thinks you’re already asleep and his lips pressed against yours a little too urgently when he’s saying goodbye to you.

But most of the time, Dave doesn’t like to care. He also doesn’t like to be soft. He’s ruthless, his edges sharp like a knife and he likes coming at you hard. He doesn’t tell you exactly what he does for a living, but you suspect that it’s dangerous and violent. He needs an outlet, somewhere he can let his aggressions run free, someone he can control.

This, you can definitely give him. You let him take it out on you when things get too much, you give up all control to him, and you love it. And he knows that you do. Sometimes you wonder if that’s the only reason he’s keeping you around, but you can’t bring yourself to believe it.

So, when your phone lights up with his name, you answer, trying to conceal your desperation to hear his voice, the hold he has on you, even if you’re fighting a losing battle. And when he’s asking for a favor, you hum questioningly, even though you already know that your answer will be “yes”.

“Take the next week off, and pack a bag. I’m having a few free days, so we’re going away for a bit, I’m picking you up on Saturday.”

He’s basically giving you an order, not stopping to ask if you’ve already got plans, if this might be a bad time, anything. Do this, be there, stat. Because he knows that you will do as he says and you know it, too.

Excitement bubbles up in you, the prospect of spending a whole week with Dave, something of a vacation, from what it sounds like, is more than you had ever allowed yourself to even daydream about. This is not what your relationship is about, it’s not what you do. Except that… apparently it is?

“I- okay, yes. That- that sounds great, Dave.” Your delight at his proposal is clear in your voice. “Where are we going? What do I need to pack? Do I need to prepare anything?”

He chuckles again and you can picture him shaking his head.

“No doll, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just bring your passport and pack for warm weather. And, sweetheart?” His voice drops an octave and he’s basically purring in your ear. “The sluttier, the better.”

He hangs up without waiting for your answer. You’re left to spend the rest of your workday in a daze, your panties soaked and your head busy with already cataloguing your entire closet and which things you’ll pack.

The days pass you by in weird chunks of time. On one hand, you can’t wait for Saturday, while on the other hand, you feel terribly unprepared, causing anxiety to creep up on you several times throughout the week. Every vacation you’ve ever been on has been meticulously organized and planned out by yourself and the lack of knowledge that you’re dealing with right now is entirely foreign to you.

What if you need a certain vaccine for wherever you’re going and you don’t have it? What if the flight has an early check-in that you need to take care of? Has Dave booked a hotel? How are the reviews? What do you need to prepare for?

The nervous urge to be ready for every kind of situation that you can’t satisfy right now is threatening to drive you crazy and you need to remind yourself more than once that this is Dave that you’re dealing with. Not one of your ex-boyfriends that would’ve come up with some half-assed plan that lacked in several vital points and required you to take care of things yourself eventually.

Dave is even more thorough than you, he doesn’t leave anything up to chance and he doesn’t forget things. You’re still reeling from the mere fact that he’s planning to take you away for a whole week. You’ve never spent that much uninterrupted time together and you honestly hadn’t thought that he would want to. This is couple stuff. And you’re not a couple. You’re just someone he sleeps with occasionally. You need to remember at least that.

You have texted him a few times, trying to get more information about the trip, but he hasn’t budged. You only manage to find out that he’ll come pick you up Saturday morning and that you’ll be gone for a whole week. And that you should pack a lot of bikinis.

“You make sure you’ll look good for me, and I’ll take care of the rest,” his text read. Followed up by a stern, “Stop worrying.”

You try taking his words to heart and get prepared in the one way you can: Buying lots of skimpy dresses and bikinis. You vividly picture him taking them off of you and it works. You do stop worrying.

Saturday finally rolls around and you’re ready, suitcase fully packed and dressed in a skirt so short that it will probably have you freezing your ass off on the airplane, but you can hardly bring yourself to care.

His taxi finally pulls up to your apartment building and he jumps out to meet you while the driver loads in your suitcase. You can’t help the giddy smile that’s on your face when Dave’s arms envelop you and your lips are on his before he even gets a greeting out. He chuckles as he kisses you softly, one of his hands cupping the back of your head, before he pulls away slightly to look at you. You’re breathless; the sight of him in his crisp shirt, the top two buttons undone to show off a sliver of his broad chest, his sharp jawline and those brown eyes trained firmly on you already enough to drive you a little crazy with need for him.

“Miss me that much, huh?” he murmurs against your lips, one hand still in your hair while the other one trails down to the hem of your skirt and skims the backside of your thighs before he gives your ass a rough squeeze. You nod quickly as a breath leaves you, not quite a moan but enough to clearly show him the effect his touch immediately has on you.

“Desperate little thing,” he grins and adds a playful slap to your backside before pecking your lips again and leading you towards the waiting car.

He slips in beside you, his hand immediately finding your thigh again and gently rubbing against the bare skin, creeping below your skirt’s hem again and again as you take off in the direction of the airport.

You’re falling into your familiar routine with him, the first effects of seeing him and the flare of your chemistry with each other calming down a little and allowing you to actually talk with him like a normal person, not a lovesick teenager. You’re filling each other in on the few weeks since you last saw each other, the little occurrences that you wanted to tell him about but didn’t have the opportunity to at the time. He’s not much of a texter and you understand that; he’s busy with his job and his family whose existence you still need to keep reminding yourself of.

His large hand doesn’t leave your thigh once throughout the drive, keeping a hold on you that feels especially possessive whenever his grip tightens. At the airport he grabs both of your suitcases and purposefully strides off, leaving you to walk beside him with nothing but your little purse. It’s not a grand gesture by any means, but still, no one has ever taken care of things for you like this and your want for him is bubbling inside of you.

He drops your baggage off at check-in and hands you your boarding pass. You can’t help the squeal that you let out when your eyes find the destination and you excitedly throw your arms around him.

“Are you serious? How did you know that I always wanted- But Dave, that’s SO much, I can’t have you pay for all this, I-“

He shushes you gently, though you can tell that he’s clearly pleased with how happy you are about where you’re going. He presses a kiss to the crown of your hand and rubs his hands over your shoulders.

“Of course you can. I wanted to do something nice for you, sweetheart, you’ve been so stressed out lately. And I-,” he trails off, looking almost a little bashful, “I wanted to spend my time off with you, without interruptions, you know.”

You think that he wants to add more, but he doesn’t, his expression slightly regretful like he accidentally said too much already. He barely verbalizes his feelings and you don’t push it.

“Thank you Dave, it’s- thank you. I really appreciate it.”

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss him softly, trying to convey what you feel but can’t put into words. How you’re not even there yet and it’s already more than anyone has ever done for you. How ‘I wanted to spend my time off with you’ has butterflies erupting in your stomach, no matter how hard you try to suppress them. How it has you wondering if maybe, just maybe, you might be more for him than just the girl that he’s fucking on the side because his marriage is shitty. How much you wish that you were.

But you don’t have time to ponder all this because he possessively wraps an arm around your shoulder and leads you off towards security control, then to the gate where he gets you your favorite Starbucks without even asking for your order, and onto the plane, where he lets you have the window seat and his hand finds its way back onto your thigh.

You brought a book to read on the flight but you can’t make it through one page without losing your focus. Dave’s hand keeps climbing higher and higher, alternating between gripping your inner thigh tightly and drawing featherlight circles on the soft skin, and the heat that had been smoldering within you since you first laid eyes on him today is slowly but steadily becoming too much to bear.

Dave seems annoyingly unaffected, his face as composed as ever as he asks questions about your book, and you know that he notices the way you’re squirming in your seat, and how much he’s enjoying the fact that he’s the one to make you act like this.

You’re in the middle of a sentence when his fingers suddenly move all the way up your thigh and brush lightly against the fabric of your underwear. It’s a barely-there touch, but you’re so wound up that it’s enough to cause you to interrupt yourself with a loud gasp. He retracts his hand the tiniest bit, still hovering between your thighs, and tuts at you.

There’s a dark glint in his eyes that hasn’t been there moments before. You know this look and it takes everything in you to not clench your thighs together in anticipation of what’s to come. He raises an eyebrow, the condescension written clear on his face and his voice a low rumble, quiet enough for only you to hear.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want everyone on here to know how much of a slut you are for me, now would we? Huh?”

He pinches the soft flesh on your inner thigh roughly when you don’t answer fast enough and you bite your lip, suppressing the whine that is threatening to come out of you.

“N-no…” you whisper and Dave arches his eyebrow even higher, looking at you expectantly. You gulp.

“No, sir.”

A small smile plays around his lips and he places a kiss on your cheek. “Good girl,” he mutters and his hand creeps up again until he’s rubbing against your panties, which you know are absolutely soaked by now. Your hips chase his touch and he chuckles darkly as he withdraws his fingers, completely this time, until he’s holding them up to your face. You can tell that the fingertips are shiny with the arousal that leaked through the fabric and you feel yourself blushing.

“Lick it off,” he demands, and your eyes widen.

“H-here?” you dare to ask. His gaze hardens.

“You wanna talk back to me?” His voice is calm, but you can sense the tension that’s rolling off of him. You should be disgusted, both by his request and the way that he’s talking to you, but you’re not. This is how you want him, how you crave him.

You shake your head hastily, acutely aware that questioning him was probably enough to get you into serious trouble later on. The thought sends another wave of desperate arousal through you.

“Then lick. It. Off. I’m not gonna tell you again.”

His tone is clipped, his face a hard mask, but your eyes flick down momentarily and the growing bulge in his pants tells you that he’s not as unaffected by the situation as he wants you to believe. You train your eyes back to his face and hold his gaze as you lean forward and obediently clean his fingers with tiny kitten licks. His jaw tenses as he finally draws his fingers back from your tongue and runs them across your cheek, smearing the traces of your spit there.

A small whine slips out of your throat as you feel fresh wetness flooding your panties and he grins before he kisses you again, murmuring a “Good girl” against your lips. He leans back into his seat, his hand finding an almost innocent position close to your knee.

“Why don’t you read a little more, sweetheart? We’ll be there soon.”

He flashes you a smile that could pass as genuine but you catch the glint in his eyes as he clocks your dazed expression and your slightly parted lips. You nod dumbly and pick the book back up, but not a single word that you read actively registers in your mind.

You try catching glances at Dave, until by the fourth time, he pinches your chin between his fingers and turns your head back forward. “I said, read,” he murmurs into your ear. You know he gets off on this stuff, giving you stupid little orders. And on the fact that you let him. That you get off on it, too.

Your arrival happens in a blur. Dave leads you off the plane and through the smallest airport you’ve ever been to. Your brain is still a bit muddled from the unsatisfied arousal he’s ignited in you and now you’re excitedly turning your head left and right, trying to get in as many impressions as you possibly can. You’re not paying close attention to what’s happening and you’re thankful for the way Dave is taking charge without question. You’re happy to link you fingers through his and let him lead you wherever you need to go.

He retrieves your luggage, walks you out of the airport and to a waiting car. You spend the drive staring out of the window, your eyes wide, taking in all the beauty around you. It’s like you’ve arrived in literal paradise. You tell Dave as much and he chuckles, lifting your hand up to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles. The unexpectedly sweet gesture has you blushing and a soft smile plays around his lips.

The hotel is, quite frankly, insane. If you had been worried about the amount of money that he’s spent on this trip before, it pales in comparison to how you’re feeling now. The building is nestled against the foot of a mountain, lush green trees surrounding the front and the road leading up to the entrance, while it opens up to a small, private bay where turquoise waves calmly roll up against the whitest sand you’ve ever seen.

There’s glass walls everywhere, giving you an almost 360° view as you step into the lobby. You know that you’re gaping and Dave actually laughs at your expression as he walks you up to the reception desk to check in. You’re not listening closely, too busy taking in your surroundings and convincing yourself that this is your real life and not some extremely realistic daydream that you’re having while sitting at your work desk.

Dave finishes up and wraps an arm around your shoulders to lead you to the elevators, stepping inside and pressing the top button. The doors slide closed and you can barely think about the fact that you’re apparently staying on the top floor before you’re being whirled around and end up with your front pressed against the elevator wall with Dave’s hands roughly shoving up your skirt until your ass is exposed to him.

Your surprised giggle morphs into a moan as his hand comes down hard to slap it, before gripping the flesh so roughly that it borders on painful. He presses his body up against yours and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as his other hand slides up to cup your breasts over your tank top.

“Dave- we can’t-,” you gasp just as the elevator comes to a halt and dings. He growls and flicks your skirt back down, but keeps you pressed against his side as the doors slide open again. Thankfully there’s no other people around on this floor to witness your surely utterly disheveled state.

The dark glint is back in his eyes as he drags you along to your room number. He stops in front of the door and turns you towards him, his eyes trained on your face as he stares you down. His voice is low, his tone calm and controlled, but somehow it’s more threatening than if he shouted at you.

“You think you get to tell me what we can and can’t do? You think that’s for you to decide?” His hand grabs your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks, and you whimper.

“N-no sir, I’m sorry, I just thought-“ He slaps your cheek, not hard enough for it to hurt, but enough to shut you up. Enough to remind you of your place in this dynamic. Your eyes flicker around hastily, your mind acutely aware of the fact that you’re in a public setting and that someone could walk in on this at any time. His hold returns your face, forcing you to look at him again.

“You don’t think, sweetheart. I decide and you listen, isn’t that right? If I want you to show off that slutty little ass of yours for everyone to see, then that’s what you’ll do.”

You nod to your best ability with his hand still grasping your face, mumbling another, “I’m sorry, sir.” You can barely think, the heat between your thighs almost making your legs buckle at this point. His thumb moves to play with your bottom lip and a cruel smirk grows on his face.

“You will be, doll. This is the third time you’ve disrespected me today. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” You can’t help the way you subconsciously bite your lip and you know that your desire is written all over your face, your pupils probably blown wide and your cheeks hot.

“Christ,” he chuckles and seals your lips with another kiss, “you’re a fucked up little thing.” You can only nod, prompting another laugh from him.

He steps up beside you and digs a keycard out of his pocket, holding it up against the door that responds with an affirmative beeping sound and a lock clicking. He pushes the handle down and swings the door open, holding it for you, a hand on the small of your back as you tentatively take a few steps inside.

The gasp you let out now isn’t fueled by your arousal, which is momentarily forgotten, but by your utter inability to believe what you’re seeing. You’re standing in a small hallway which opens up into a gigantic living room that’s probably bigger than your entire apartment and completely lined with glass walls, revealing a balcony and the shimmering sea several floors below you. You slowly walk to the adjoining bedroom that houses the easily biggest bed you’ve ever seen and a continuation of the glass walls. From what you can see, the en-suite bathroom features a lot of white marble.

You turn back to Dave, who has followed you silently and seems to expectantly take in your every reaction. “You’re crazy,” you tell him and he grins as you struggle for words. “This is- it’s so expensive, it’s- it’s too much, really. You’re crazy,” you repeat and he walks up to you to take your hands. His thumbs rub little circles over the skin and he smiles softly.

“As I said, I wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve it, sweetheart, you do.”

“But- but it’s-,” you trail off, mortified to realize that your bottom lip is trembling and your eyes are getting wet. You’re not going to cry in front of Dave, not because of a stupid hotel room. More like a fucking suite, your brain unhelpfully provides and your lip trembles harder. Dave quickly wraps his arms around your shoulders, his eyes searching your face.

“But it’s what?” he implores, his features displaying a look of such genuine concern that you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen on him before. “Sweetheart, do you not like it?”

You shake your head, trying to think of some way to explain that doesn’t make you seem totally pathetic. “It’s-,” you draw a deep breath, “it’s just- this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Like, ever. I just can’t believe you would- for me…” You trail off, not sure how to explain that you can’t grasp why he would be willing to spend this amount of money on you. “What I mean to say is, it’s beautiful. Just- thank you. Really, thank you.”

You smile at him and the relief is incredibly evident on his face before he pulls you into a hug, his arms engulfing you, one hand stroking you head softly. For once, his hands don’t wander down your body, he just holds you tight and you allow yourself to think that you could get used to this.

You feel awkward after your little breakdown, but Dave doesn’t mention it again. He lets you traipse around the suite to explore and unpack and follows you when you step out onto the balcony where you inhale deeply, enjoying the salty air and the view down to the bay. You think that it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life and you flash a beaming smile at him.

“You like it?” he checks again and you nod eagerly. “Good,” he mumbles and steps up behind where you’re leaning against the railing, one of his arms finding its way around your middle and his head resting on your shoulder. “That’s good.”

You stay like that a little while, taking in the scenery in front of you in peaceful silence, listening to the sound of the waves that roll against the shore and watching as the sun is sinking lower, a soft golden light spreading out across the sky and reflecting in the water.

Eventually, one of his hands slowly starts gliding up your torso. He cups your breast and his fingers graze your quickly pebbling nipple. You moan quietly and instinctually push your hips back against his crotch and the growing hardness there, which causes him to chuckle as he bends down to run his lips over your neck, leaving small kisses and bites on the sensitive flesh.

You’ve been riled up and let back down so many times today that you feel a bit crazed at this point, the need for him between your legs downright painful as you grind your hips against him and another desperate moan escapes you. “Dave, please… I need you.” Your head falls back against his chest and his other arm loops around your middle, pressing you against him as he tuts softly.

“So needy that you’re forgetting all your manners, huh?”

He pinches your nipple, hard, before his hand sneaks higher and loosely wraps around your throat. The anticipation of what is -hopefully- finally about to happen has you feeling lightheaded. You don’t care that you’re outside, that anyone could look up and easily spot you on the balcony, you would let him fuck you right there, as long as he just finally fucks you at all. You haven’t given him an answer and the hold around you throat tightens. Not enough for any real pressure, but enough to remind you of the power he holds over you.

“Please, sir,” you whine and he chuckles again.

“Not yet, doll,” he whispers into your ear and his hand leaves your throat, then he turns you around until you’re face to face. You can see that he wants you too, it’s written on his features clear as day, and you can barely fathom his level of self-restraint right now. You open your mouth, ready to beg again, ready to beg for anything to relieve the throbbing pain between your thighs, but he shakes his head curtly and even in your lust-filled haze, you know better than to keep going and shut your mouth again.

He grins at your obedience and gives your lips a quick kiss. “Good girl. You’ll get everything you want soon enough, don’t worry. Just gotta be patient a little more, okay?” You nod, and dazedly let him take your hand and lead you back into the bedroom. “But first, we’re gonna have a nice dinner. Think you’re gonna need the energy, doll.” His grin turns downright feral and a small shudder runs through you. “Show me what pretty things you packed, yeah?”

You hum your agreement and turn to rummage through the closet, pick out a dress and fresh underwear and wander off into the bathroom. You half-expect him to stop you and make you change in front of him, but he doesn’t say a word. Maybe seeing you naked would be even too much for his restraint right now.

You change into the dress; it’s one of the new ones that you bought only last week while daydreaming about how Dave would take it off of you. It’s a short silk dress, dark red and with an open back that basically only consists of a several straps that form a loose pattern over your skin, which is why you forego a bra and only pull on a black thong, a lacy, barely there scrap of fabric. You also redo your makeup, adding a lipstick in a shade that matches the dress and freshen up your hair, then step out into the bedroom again.

Dave is still wearing the black slacks that he wore all day, but seems to have changed into a new, creamy white dress shirt, while you were busy in the bathroom. The top three buttons are open, which is one more than usual, exposing more of his broad chest than you’re used to and you know that you’re wearing an expression of awe on your face. He’s so beautiful. He always is, he’s stupidly attractive, really, but it’s hitting you especially hard right now, in these new surroundings and with the prospect of having him all to yourself for one whole week.

He’s eyeing you as well, his gaze roaming hungrily over your body. You become acutely aware of just how short the dress is, how much of your naked skin is on display. You like your body, and you’re not ashamed of showing it off, but this place is fancy. You know you look good, but suddenly, you feel a bit awkward. “Is- is this okay? Because, I-,” you stammer a little, “I didn’t expect this kind of hotel and you said- you said you wanted slutty, so…” You trail off, biting you lip nervously.

Dave’s gaze softens. It’s giving you whiplash, how quickly he switches between the domineering, controlled, sexually charged persona that he’s displaying around you most of the time, and this sweeter, caring side. The side that wants to do something nice for you. He takes a step towards you.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart.”

You do, giving him a little twirl before turning back around and meeting his gaze. He looks… you don’t know how to describe it. The hunger for you that you’re familiar with is there, but it’s also something else, something… more. “You look perfect,” he assures you and you can’t help but believe him. Then he continues, “take off your underwear.” You blink at him and he cocks an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want any panty lines when you’re looking so gorgeous with that pretty dress.”

You know fully well that the tiny thong that you’re wearing isn’t leaving any panty lines, but you also know better than to argue. The thought of having nothing to protect your modesty under the very short hem of your dress makes you feel exposed, a little uneasy, which is probably exactly what he wants. Always testing your limits, always looking to see how far he can push you, how far you’d go to please him.

You slide your thong off and make to toss it in the direction of your suitcase, but he clicks his tongue and holds his hand out towards you. You put it into his waiting hand and he stuffs it into the pocket of his pants. You suppose that he’s planning something and that you’ll get to know about it when he wants you to, which isn’t now, so you keep your mouth shut and step closer to him. “Dinner?” you ask softly and lean on your tiptoes to kiss him. He returns the kiss, his tongue entering your mouth swiftly, giving you a taste of how much he wants you, before he pulls back and grabs your hand instead, leading you out of the suite and back to the elevator.

It’s just the two of you when you get on, but two floors down, you’re being joined by an elderly couple who you greet politely. As soon as their backs are turned to you, Dave’s hand is under your dress, running a finger through your slick folds. You manage to swallow your surprised gasp, but flinch slightly, and you see him smirk out of the corner of your eye. He slides his finger up and down your slit, brushing your already oversensitive clit a few times, and you bite down hard on your lip to keep the sounds inside that threaten to spill out of you.

When the elevator finally stops, he withdraws his hand and waits until the couple is a few steps away from you, until he leans down to whisper in your ear, “Good girl, learned your lesson I see. Now, what do you say?”

“Thank you, sir,” you breathe, your legs a bit wobbly and your arousal already leaking out of you.

“That’s right.” He pats your ass in a sort of condescending appreciation and you follow him into the dining area.

The hotel’s restaurant is located on the first floor, a beautiful, light-filled space that opens onto a big terrace which seems to float over the ocean and gives you a gorgeous view of the sunset’s colors that have become even more intense since you left your room. You’re being led to a small table for two and you gape at the view, causing Dave to laugh at you again, but it’s a warm laugh, that feels like he’s genuinely happy about how much you’re enjoying yourself.

You try reading through the menu, but you know maybe half of the things that are on there, much less how anything tastes or what you would prefer. You shoot Dave a sort of helpless look and he grins. “Want me to order for you?” he asks and you nod gratefully, trying not to feel embarrassed about how out of your depth you are. He orders something, along with a bottle of red wine, which you very much appreciate. You don’t know much about wine, but this one tastes really good. It turns out that he ordered some kind of fish for you, that you still have no idea how to pronounce right, but now you know that it’s freaking delicious. You tell Dave as much and he gives you another smile that seems much too soft and overwhelmingly right at the same time.

Dinner with him is much easier than you had anticipated. Apart from your excitement about the whole trip, you had been a little nervous about spending an entire week with him, having to make much more conversation than you usually do. It’s not that you never talk, but sooner or later, you end up naked with him whispering filth into your ear. You don’t go out on hour long dates, maybe a drink at a bar, but no big dinners and extensive talks. Until now.

Now you know that he’s a great listener, making you feel heard and understood, never once giving you the impression that you’re boring him. You also learn more about him, about his past, though he stays vague about his current job and the situation with his family. But it’s nice, being with him like this. Another thing that you could get used to, but that’s also another thought to shove into some far away corner of your mind. Be thankful for what it is, don’t become greedy for more, you tell yourself.

After two glasses of wine and a dessert that you could have died for, watching the sun set over the ocean until the night sky took over, you’re buzzing with happiness, but also excitement for the next part of the evening. The whole dinner was better than you could have imagined, but you have also been turned on for hours, with the man that you want right in front of you. When Dave finally stands up and pulls your chair out for you, you all but jump up and flit to his side. He chuckles and looks at your eager face. “Don’t get too excited, sweetheart. Tonight isn’t gonna be all that fun for you.”

The dark glint in his eyes is back and you’re subconsciously clenching your thighs together. The simple thought of what he might do to you is enough to push the arousal that has been simmering inside of you to the forefront of your mind again. You’re amazed how quickly he can sink back into that domineering character that could make you do almost anything with a simple snap of his fingers. He wasn’t like that at dinner, he didn’t once give you the impression that you’re below him or that he doesn’t respect you, separating this sexual dynamic that you’ve established from other parts of your interactions with clean precision.

He leads you out of the restaurant, his fingers grazing the bare skin on your back and you’re once again reminded that you’re completely bare beneath the skimpy dress that you’re wearing. His hand dips lower, playing with the hem that feels like it’s barely covering your ass. Goosebumps are forming on you lower back and your thighs and he chuckles darkly.

He keeps playing with your dress during the elevator ride, his fingers sliding underneath and grazing your ass repeatedly, until you’re fully riled up again. You’re a little nervous now. He promised to be rough several times today and you don’t doubt that he will. You’re excited as well, you want him rough, crave his control over you, but still…

He takes out the key card and opens the door as you follow him quietly, waiting for instructions. You can feel the tension rolling off of him. As soon as the door clicks shut, he’s on you, crowding you back against it, his hands grabbing your wrists and pulling them up above your head while he leans down to capture your waiting lips.

The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongues as he devours your mouth, towering over you and keeping your wrists fixed to the door while his whole body is pressing into yours. You arch into him, helplessly trying to get him closer as you moan into his mouth when he bites at your lower lip, keeping it in between his teeth as he pulls back a little before letting it go. You whine, the quick stab of pain transforming into pleasure and traveling straight to your pussy, which causes you to spread your legs wider and grind your hips against him.

He gathers both your wrists in his large hand, still pressing them against the wall above your head, and lets his other hand roam over your body, grabbing at your waist, bunching up the dress there. “Looked so good tonight, all dolled up in your pretty dress…” he murmurs with his lips now dragging against the soft skin of your neck, occasionally nipping and sucking at the skin, “and all this just for me, sweetheart?” He bites down right below your ear and your hips buck against him.

“Yes, yes sir, fuck…”

Your breath catches in your throat when he abruptly pulls the neckline down to expose your breasts and scratches his fingernails over your nipples. He pinches one hardened bud between his nails and pulls slightly before he lets go and watches how the flesh bounces back, then he repeats the motion on the other side. You’re gasping, tears are welling up in your eyes, it hurts, but it hurts so good, your pussy is completely soaked and you just want him to finally, finally fill you up.

Then he steps back, his jaw flickers as he watches you, still pressed against the door, panting softly and with a dazed expression on your face.

“Get on your knees.”

You get down immediately, hoping against hope that maybe he’ll let you come sooner when you’re being good now. He allows himself a cold smile at your eagerness and steps closer until you have to crane your neck to look up at him. He opens his belt and slacks in sure, controlled movements, the only evidence of his own need for you being the massive bulge that’s right in front of your face. He doesn’t waste time, shoving his pants and underwear down in one move and letting his cock spring free.

You gasp quietly, your mouth opening on its own accord at the sight of his massive length and you look up at him hungrily. “Open wide,” he tells you softly, almost gently and you obey, sticking your tongue out and watching mesmerized as he lets his tip rest on your tongue for a few moments. He pulls back slightly, smearing a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum across your cheeks, then slapping you with his cock, which causes you to moan. “Filthy little thing,” he murmurs and sinks into your wet mouth in one hard thrust.

You gag almost immediately, your throat contracting around him and he groans as he grabs your head and holds you still. Tears well up in your eyes and you already feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. He finally lets go and you desperately suck in a lungful of air before he starts thrusting into your mouth again, hitting the back of your throat every time and causing you to choke around him. The way he pushes you around, uses you for his own pleasure has a new rush of wetness flooding your pussy and you’re itching to touch your clit, just a little bit.

He notices how you’re squirming beneath him, how one of your hands is inching closer between your legs and he stops his thrusts, his cock still taking up most of your mouth, and looks down at your face.

“You wanna touch yourself? You like having your face fucked like a whore?”

You nod as best as you can and hum desperately, gazing up at him through your tear-soaked lashes. He furrows his brow, looking down at you with that wicked glint in his eye. “You know how to ask properly, I didn’t hear you sweetheart,” he tells you, sinking even deeper into your throat and you fight to suppress another gag. You hum again and look at him pleadingly; he’s well aware that you can’t ask him anything with his cock filling your throat like this. “Guess you don’t want to, then,” he shrugs, “hands behind your back. You’re not touching that pussy without my permission.” You whine, your clit throbbing painfully for attention, but you obediently cross your wrists at the small of your back.

“Poor thing,” he coos and pats your head in mock-sympathy, then moves his hand back to hold you in place as he pounds into your throat with renewed force. You gag around him, tears flowing all over your face and drool streaming down your chin and onto your tits. He sinks into you again and again, holding you up by your head and making you sputter around him, desperate to somehow draw air into your lungs. “Take it,” he growls, “take it like the little slut you are, down on the floor for me. That’s how you like it, don’t you?” He finally pulls out of you and slaps your cheek when you don’t respond immediately. “Don’t you?!”

“Y-yes sir,” you rasp, gasping for breath, tears and spit still all over your face.

He crouches down cups the cheek that he just slapped, his thumb rubbing at the tear-stained skin under your eye. You’re positive that you look a mess, mascara running down your cheeks and your dark lipstick smeared all around your mouth, mixing with your spit. Your hands are still behind your back, the arch in your body making you push your chest out and putting your tits on full display for him. He starts toying with your nipples again and you want to cry. An orgasm feels so close, yet so far away. You feel like you could come with just a few strokes on your clit, but you have no idea how much longer he will string you along until he finally deems it enough.

“You’ve been such a good girl, sweetheart. So patient all day, I bet you’re dripping all down those pretty legs right now, aren’t you? So desperate and ready for me, yeah?” His voice is a low growl in front of you and you whine your agreement. It’s not enough for him. “Say it. Tell me how desperate my little slut is to finally get fucked.”

You hesitate, your eyes dropping to the ground in front of you. “I-,” you gasp as he roughly grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, waiting for you to do as he said. “I need you to fuck me, so badly. I’ll be so good, I promise, just p-please, sir,” you whine, feeling pathetic, your voice trembling and your face burning. No matter how many depraved things he gets you to do with him, for him, talking like this still gets you embarrassed. Which is precisely why he makes you do it.

“And what are you?”

You feel your face heating up. “Your s-slut, sir.”

He grins as he adds another slap against your cheek. “Damn right you are.”

He straightens back up, tugs himself back into his pants and looks down at you. “Bedroom.” You scramble to get up, but he shakes his head and lands a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down again. “No, no. You’re gonna crawl.” You sink back on your hands and knees, the amount of embarrassment and arousal that you’re feeling making you dizzy, and you look up at him shyly.

He nods approvingly and bends down to tug your dress up higher until your bare ass and pussy are on full display. “Good girl, right where you belong. Off you go, come on.” You bite your lip and start crawling towards the bedroom, his footsteps right behind you and you can feel his eyes drinking you in as another groan grumbles in his chest.

You stop in front of the bed and give him a questioning look. He gestures for you to stand up and you get back to your feet with trembling knees. He steps closer, his hands ghosting over your shoulders and toying with the straps of your dress.

“Such a pretty dress,” he murmurs as he slides them off your shoulders, the garment slipping down your body, leaving you bare except for the heels that you’ve been wearing all evening. You’re painfully aware of the power dynamic between you, how you’re completely naked and at his mercy while he’s still fully dressed. His hands roam over you, leaving goosebumps in their wake and come to rest at your hips. He squeezes the flesh there, then turns you around until you’re facing the bed.

One hand reaches up to your neck and he bends you over until your upper body is resting on the mattress, your back arching and your ass up in the air for him. He takes a step back and lands a slap on your backside without warning. You yelp, your body instinctively lurching forward and your legs shaking with the strain of keeping your balance in your heels. He notices, of course, and says, “You better keep those pretty legs steady, doll,” before reaching forward and massaging your stinging flesh. You hum, trying to get your muscles to cooperate, but your legs won’t stop trembling.

Dave’s touch leaves your body and he sits down on the bed beside your head, his eyes searching your face. “What’s your color, sweetheart?” he inquires, softly stroking your cheek.

“Green,” you answer without hesitation. It has already been a lot and you’re sure that he’s nowhere near finished with you, but you like it like this. You crave it. He nods, his touch still gentle on your face.

“And what do you say when you need me to stop?”

“Red,” you whisper, leaning into his touch.

“Good girl,” he murmurs and leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek, before he stands up again and disappears from your field of view.

“So,” his voice drawls from behind you, “I think I’ll give you twenty-five tonight, how’s that sound, sweetheart?” You gulp, but know that there’s only one acceptable answer.

“S-sounds good, sir. Thank you,” you breathe, the apprehension clear in your voice, and he laughs quietly.

“And what did you do to deserve this?”

You bite your lip again, struggling to think through the fog of arousal clearly enough to give him an answer that he’ll be satisfied with. “I d-didn’t listen and talked- talked back at you, and…” you trail off when his hand dips between your legs, swirling through the wetness there before retreating again. You inhale sharply and continue, “…and that was disrespectful. I’m sorry, sir, it won’t- it won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Dave mumbles and his fingertips ghost over your lower back. “But that was a nice little speech, sweetheart. Starting now, you’re gonna count them out for me, yeah? Lose count and we’ll start over.” You nod and your hands grip the sheets as you try bracing yourself.

The first slap meets your flesh, not as hard as you know he can go, but hard enough to get a small scream out of you. “One,” you force yourself to say and he hums appreciatively, before landing the second slap exactly on the same spot as the first one. “T-two,” you whine, his handprint searing on your skin.

You make it until eleven before your legs give out, your trembling muscles collapsing under the task of keeping you upright in your heels while your body is scrambling to get away from the oncoming assault on your ass cheeks. You fall forward, your knees hitting the mattress right after Dave’s hand connected with your backside again. “Twelve, I’m sorry, sir,” you choke out.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, stepping closer and running his hands soothingly over your back as he searches your face, a look of soft concern on his face. “What’s your color, doll?”

“Green. Still- still green, sir,” you breathe out and you mean it. You feel like you’re on fire, but in the best way.

“Yeah?” he questions, “want me to continue?” and you nod your head eagerly. The concern washes away from his face, his jaw tensing and his eyes growing cold again. “Fucking masochistic little slut,” he growls and you moan, your walls desperately clenching around nothing.

He lets you stay with your knees on the bed, your ass still up high for him, until you’ve finally reached “twenty-five, t-thank you, sir.” You’re sobbing at this point, your skin feels raw where he hit you, but you’re also damn near delirious with want for him.

Dave strokes your skin gently, telling you what a good girl you’ve been and how proud he is of you, and you bask in his praise. Then his hand travels lower, slipping between your thighs until his fingers are running through your folds, feeling how soaked exactly his rough treatment has left you. “Fuck doll, you’re dripping. You really liked that, huh?” he murmurs as he pushes two of his thick fingers into you, sliding in easily and making you moan loudly.

He thrusts into your tight heat roughly, causing you to arch your back and spread your legs wider, your release so close that you can almost taste it. He keeps going until he feels you growing tighter, starting to clench around his fingers, and slides them out of you abruptly. You sob, feeling your orgasm subside again.

“I think you were about to come without permission, sweetheart. You just promised me you’d be good, didn’t you? Guess your greedy little cunt just can’t help herself, huh?”

You whimper an apology and receive another slap to your abused skin, causing you to jerk forward. “No doll, you stay right here. Give me your hands,” Dave’s stern voice orders from behind you. You let him take hold of your wrists, leaving you completely at his mercy in the position that you’re in, and he digs your panties out of his pants pocket, looping them around your wrists until they’re tightly secured.

When he’s satisfied with his work, you finally hear the rustling of him taking off his clothes. Without warning, you feel him swipe the head of his cock through your drenched folds, teasing you with the tip, grazing your clit and causing you to gasp, then sliding back until he’s prodding at your entrance. You whine loudly and try pushing your hips backwards, but his hold tightens around you, keeping you in position.

“Not so fast. Be a good girl and beg for it,” he requests, in a voice that still sounds so controlled, while you feel like you’re barely able to form words anymore. You’re not embarrassed anymore, the promise of his cock so close to where you want him wiping all inhibitions from your mind.

“Please sir, I need you so badly, please fuck me, I’ll do anything, just please…”

You feel pathetic begging like this, but you couldn’t care less. Dave lets out a strained groan behind you, and then he’s pushing into you in one strong thrust. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve taken him or how wet you are, his size always stings at the first intrusion and you wail, your body being pushed forward by his movement and he grips your bound wrists, holding you steady as he starts pounding into you.

“So fucking tight and wet you little slut, fuck you take me so good, being such a good girl, fuck…” Now his voice sounds wrecked behind you and you moan loudly at his words and at the way he’s splitting you open. This is what you had been craving for hours, the feeling of him thrusting into you again and again, and you push your hips back to meet his thrusts, to get him even deeper.

One of his hands grips your hair and pulls, forcing you to arch your back even more and slightly shifting the angle where he’s pounding into you, hitting something so delicious inside of you that you almost come on the spot, your walls already fluttering around him, but you’re not allowed, your scrambled brain reminds you, you need…

“Please sir, I’m gonna come, can I please…” Your voice breaks off into a sob when his movements slow down and he pulls out of you, pushing you forward until you’re laying flat on the bed, and he starts working on releasing your bound wrists.

“Good girl, asking for permission,” he praises, “but you’re gonna look me in the face when I make you come tonight.”

He frees your wrists and turns you around so that you’re on your back, looking up at him through teary eyes, desperate for your release. “Poor thing,” he coos as he gets between your legs, placing his large hands on your thighs and spreading them wide. His cock nudges at your entrance but he doesn’t sink back into you, his gaze trained on your face and his hand wandering up to play with your bottom lip.

“Open wide,” he tells you and you obey, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out. His breath has turned heavy by now and he hovers over you, hungry eyes roaming over your face, your open mouth and your wet eyes. He draws back the tiniest bit, then he spits into your mouth, his saliva coating your tongue and you whine, the filth of the whole situation making your pussy clench once more.

“Keep it open, show me.”

You hold still, your mouth wide open, feeling his spit mixing with yours as you stare up at him, waiting for his next command. “Now swallow,” he finally says and you do, showing him your empty mouth afterwards and he grins. “Fuck, you’re such an obedient slut, being such a good girl for me. You’d do anything right now, wouldn’t you? Fucked all the thoughts out of that pretty little head, yeah?”

“Yes, anything,” you whimper, and he sinks his cock back into you without preamble. Your eyes widen at the sensation of being full again and the new angle, moans of his name falling from your mouth and you wrap your legs around him, grasping at his wide shoulders to hold onto something as he starts pounding into you again with raw strength.

One of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing until you feel light-headed, intensifying the feeling of his deep thrusts into you. Pleading whispers leave your lips, but you don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore, if you want more, if you want him to stop.

His movements speed up even more, hitting spots inside of you that have you moaning and squirming underneath him and the hand on your throat travels down to your breasts, toying with your nipples, pinching and pulling and sending delicious waves of pain through you.

You’re so close again, when his hand slides down to rub at your clit, making you scream and throw your head back, your eyes pinched close. He grabs at your face and forces you to look at him.

“Oh no, you’re gonna look me in the eyes when I make you come, are you gonna come sweetheart?”, he growls. You whine and nod desperately, your eyes shining with tears. “Go ahead then, come for me, squeeze my cock like the good little whore you are.”

He swirls his thumb over your neglected clit once more, gives you a particularly hard thrust and your vision swims, your whole body tensing up before you bear down on him and fall apart. You’re clenching rhythmically around his cock as the orgasm tears through your body in pulsing waves and you’re pulling him over the edge with you as he climaxes with a deep moan, spilling his release inside of you.

You’re a trembling mess, your breath stuttering and your mind still caught up in a blissful haze, and you’re only vaguely aware of him collapsing beside you, but you register the tender kiss that he presses to your cheek before he gets up and retreats to the bathroom.

The next thing you feel is the bed dipping as he sits down beside you again and you slowly blink your eyes open. Maybe it’s the post-orgasmic bliss that you’re still lost in, but you think to yourself that he looks especially beautiful right now, his face relaxed with a small smile playing around his mouth, where the stubble of his beard is showing through at the end of the day, and with his brown eyes warm again now as he looks at you.

“May I?” he asks and holds up a damp towel. You nod, returning his smile and watching as he brings the towel down between your legs, cleaning you up and soothing your hot skin. He gently turns you over and spreads some kind of healing balm over your burning cheeks, careful not to touch you too roughly. He also cleans your face, his soft touches almost enough to lull you to sleep.

When he’s finished, he maneuvers you around, causing you to giggle, until you’re in the middle of the bed and he can pull the covers over you, sliding in beside you and wrapping his arm around your middle. You shuffle closer until you’re securely tugged into his side, your breath fanning against his broad chest.

“You good?” he asks, looking down at you and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah,” you smile up at him and stretch to reach his mouth with your lips. He kisses you back, his hand coming up to play with your hair, and you smile even wider. As much as he likes to be rough with you, you think that what he actually needs, is the softness.

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#dave york #dave york fanfiction #dave york x reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #the equalizer 2 #the equalizer 2 fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom

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darling-i-read-it · 1 year

Text

Please Don't Kill Me Mr. Ghostface!

Ethan Landry x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: SCREAM 6 SPOILERS

Very susceptible reader, Ethan’s reaction to Richies death, heavy insinuations to smut, faking the reader and Quinn's death, the slight cringe from scream movies dialogue <3, they literally have sex in the stab shrine room (when will it be my turn), (that is all skipped over), me being unsure of which ghostface was at which part of the movie. I have only seen Scream 6 once and was just going off what I remembered from it! So if things are wrong (timing, Ghostfaces, etc) then I’m sorry!

Author’s Note: This one requires some suspension of belief lol. I don’t know HOW to justify the reader doing all these things except Ethan was cute and this is fiction <3 I hope you enjoy love!! Also I wasn’t 100% sure on if Ethan’s name was Landry or Bailey. I went with Landry (which I’m sure is fake but what we all know him as! So when I refer to the house under that name, I was torn lol)

Requested by anon, ooh ok so can i request ethan x reader where reader is in on the ghostface thing (but she’s not killing people she just knows about it) and like helps them with stuff (maybe with like faking quinn’s death and stuff like that idk) but also it’s somehow fluffy relationship stuff in there too lol (sorry it’s kinda all over the place😬)

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You were laying on the back on Ethan’s bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. His room was as familiar to you as your own was. You had practically grown up at the Landry’s home, going to school together for your entire lives and staying close to Ethan throughout it all. Once you had hit your senior year in high school, it seemed only fate the two of you would start to date.

You put down your phone with a gentle huff. Ethan was sitting in front of his computer, doing homework. You turned your head to face him, trying to telepathically ask for attention. As if he could read your mind, he spoke.

“Give me five more minutes.”

“I told you taking chemistry for your lab credit was dumb,” you said gently, wanting to sneak in an ‘I told you so’ but also not wanting to agitate him. He was brilliant but he couldn’t always grasp the concepts he had too. You suspected some sort of undiagnosed learning disorder but you were far from a doctor. You were just his best friend.

“I don’t remember you being there when I picked classes,” he said quietly. You rolled your eyes.

“I was there in spirit.” You grabbed your phone again, flipping onto your stomach. You opened it back up, looking past the screensaver of you and Ethan over the summer before, when you had been on vacation with his family. You reopened Instagram to continue your doom scroll. The first story you opened was that of a friend from school.

You usually skipped through them, not even registering what they said, but paused at the large bolded letters over a black screen.

Rip Richie <3

You didn’t deserve to be caught up in that.

You squinted, trying to place a Richie that you knew. The first that came to your mind was Ethan’s older brother but just as quickly as the thought came it left. It couldn’t have been him. He was with his girlfriend in Modesto or something. Plus, how would this rando in high school know before you and Ethan? You kept flicking through your friend's stories, confused. Someone had posted a blurry picture of some sort of a crime scene. It was clearly reposted over and over so the picture itself was almost lost. You squinted and then opened your google app.

“Okay I’m done,” Ethan said, shutting his laptop with triumph. “I’m gonna ace that test tomorrow.” He looked over your face and could read you with ease. Something was wrong - or at the very least, confusing. “What?”

You googled Richies name. A flood of reports came up. Your lips parted in surprise as you looked up at Ethan.

“What?” he repeated. Before you could explain, his phone rang. You both looked towards where it was resting on the bed beside you. You picked it up. A picture of his dads face was on the screen.

“Oh God,” you whispered, unable to contain it.

“What?!” He grabbed his phone and answered it quickly. You sat up, tossing your phone aside and getting off the bed. You knew right now that he was going to be grieving more than you. You had to be there for him. “Hello? Dad?” You stood beside him and watched as his face fell according to the muffled voice coming from the receiver. His eyes were laced with confusion and then a flash of pain. “What do you mean Richie-” He was cut off.

There were a few more words and then his eyes went dead with emotion. You weren’t sure what to do so you stood beside him. He hung up the phone after a moment and then looked up at you.

“Richie?” He nodded. His mouth was ajar, stunned. He threw his arms around you and you embraced each other as he stood up. “What happened?” you questioned. He was silent. You didn’t think you were going to get an answer until he spoke, quietly.

“He was murdered.”

“It’s actually kind of easy to rig the roommate system,” you muttered, sitting at a chair in front of your computer. The room behind you was filled with the remaining Landry’s.

You turned around to the curious eyes.

“So he’s in?” Wayne questioned. You nodded.

“He is going to be Chads Meeks-Martin’s roommate,” you explained. He slapped you on the back in approval. You had always been on good terms with Wayne. He was the kind of dad who would ask if you had a boyfriend and then wink at his son after the question. He had been slightly overjoyed when Ethan told him you were dating. This came only after, he caught you and Ethan making out in his bedroom. It was mortifying but he was pretty okay about it.

“Thanks kid.”

Wayne was not on board with telling you about the trio of Ghostfaces he had planned but Ethan insisted. You had been there when he found out about Richie and you had been there through all of his hardships.

“And you’re okay with coming around my place when we have to…you know…” Quinn made a gesture of slitting her own throat. “I mean, I need someone to drag my body out of there while my dad brings a new one.”

You tried to ignore your moral dilemma to this. Ethan had promised you wouldn’t be implicated in any of this. But sometimes when Wayne looked at you during this you knew that you would go down with them if he went down. You were in on this now. You couldn’t exactly back out.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Quinn smiled brightly. She was slightly too excited about this. Part of you still didn’t think it was actually going to happen. You couldn’t imagine Ethan actually killing anyone, even when his eyes lit up while talking about it.

“For Richie,” Ethan promised, placing a hand on your back. You nodded, getting up and out of your seat. You gestured to the computer.

“I didn’t think this is what I would be doing with my computer science classes,” you admitted. Ethan smiled gently at you, ever soft, even when planning people’s literal murders.

“For some reason I feel like she’s gonna have no problem faking our deaths but is gonna have a major problem not getting to hang out with Ethan everyday,” Quinn teased. You rolled your eyes. You wouldn’t be able to see him when he’s hanging out with his new group of friends. At least, you would have to act like you didn’t know him as closely as you actually did. You were meant to be Quinn’s friend in all of this.

Wayne was grabbing papers off the table, presumably planning. He actively tried to burn everything after memorizing it. You thought it was dumb of him to write anything else.

“You gonna be okay?” Ethan questioned, jokingly. You rolled your eyes.

“You shouldn’t be worried about me E. I’m not the clingy one in this relationship.”

Sam and Tara shouldn’t have been as nice as they were. You recognized the hate in Sam's eyes, the paranoia that was justified. She was out, attempting to get Tara from a party she went to. You sat in the apartment with Quinn. She was working through some homework. You were still amazed she did all that during this planning.

You walked around her room, making sure that all of the blood that needed to come out, would come out. You liked to double check. You blamed the nerves.

“Is he supposed to be here soon?” Quinn questioned. You glanced back at her.

“You know we aren’t supposed to talk that much over the phone.” You were standing on top of her bed. Everything was in place for when your Ghostface arrived. You hopped down. She turned away from her computer.

“I know you’re not supposed to. I also know he can’t help himself.” You rolled your eyes.

“Soon. Within the hour,” you admitted. She left her computer open, to show that she was ambushed. You and Quinn were supposed to die tonight at the hands of Ghostface. After Sam and Tara left, he would sneak in and find you both, unsuspecting and oh so helpless. By the time the sisters returned home, you would both be dead, or close to it.

You glanced down at your phone which was still open to your texts with Ethan.

Can’t wait to stick something in you tonight ;)

You rolled your eyes, flushed, and turned off your phone.

Quinn helped you to make sure everything would look as realistic as possible. She explained, again, that they would blame Sam for all of this. Once she was dead and Richie’s death had been paid for, the two of you would be able to return to society as though Ghostface had held you captive.

You were too far in to back out now.

You heard the front door open. Quinn shut her blinds so that no one would see Ethan maskless. It had been a couple of weeks since the two of you had been alone (or alone with Quinn). He walked in through the front door, which Sam had left unlocked in her rush, and quickly made his way to Quinn’s room.

You met him halfway, throwing your arms around him. His laughter was muffled by the voice changer. You took his mask off of him, eager to get your lips on his. You couldn’t believe you were really doing this. You couldn’t believe your boyfriend was going to fake kill you.

He kissed you before you could get to it.

“Alright alright love birds,” Quinn grumbled. “Get in the closet Ethan, the girls are gonna be back soon.”

“Will you give us one sec?” Ethan questioned. Quinn looked like she wanted to argue but knew that an argument would just continue this further than she wanted to. You stood outside of her door, leaving it ajar. He looked around carefully to make sure no windows were in view. You were alone.

You took the mask from him. You felt it in your fingers. You hadn’t seen him in the outfit yet. You had seen Quinn and you had seen his dad but you hadn’t ever seen him in the full get up.

“You’re so scary,” you whispered, a buzz in your voice. “I would be terrified.”

“Are you scared?” He put the mask up to his face. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” You scrunched your nose, shaking your head.

“What’s that part in the first Stab?” You thought for a minute, pressing yourself up against him. He looked at you with adoration in his eyes. He had missed you desperately. You had grown up together and spending a long time apart was proving to be more difficult than he thought it would be. “Please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface. I wanna be in the sequel!”

He chuckled lowly and clutched your face, leaning over to kiss you. You let him, relishing in his lips. Who knew when he would slip away again to see you. You would be sentenced to hiding until all of this was over. He placed his other hand on your side, holding you in his grasp.

“Alright you two! Andele, andele!” Quinn opened up the door. He let you go. You grabbed the mask with both of your hands, rubbing it with your thumb. It was scary. It wouldn’t be hard to act the part.

“You ready to die?” he asked but his voice was so gentle it was almost comical. It was like he was checking in on you.

“Yes sir.”

You put the mask over his face and then he was no longer your boyfriend. He was Ghostface. You slipped into Quinn’s room and prepared for your end.

“Maybe I should’ve joined in on the killing,” you muttered, looking up at the ceiling. You were stuck in the Ghostface shrine that Richie had created. It was fun for a while, considering there was so much to look at, but there were only so many times the Stab movies were interesting to watch. Quinn came and went but mostly went. You weren’t sure where Wayne was keeping her otherwise.

The burner phone in your pocket buzzed. You quickly reached for it.

“Hello?”

“Lemme up.”

You knew that voice. You also knew he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near here until much later. This room wasn’t even supposed to be found yet. He hung up the phone. You walked to the elevator and pushed the button to lower it. It took a few minutes but you heard it come back after a while.

Ethan practically threw the gate open.

“What are you doing here?”

He threw his arms around you.

“Those people are really fucking annoying.” You scoffed. You were grateful for the company but not at the behest of his cover. “I missed you.”

“Does your dad know you’re here?”

“I’m supposed to be in a study group.”

“Skipping study group to see me? Tsk, tsk Ethan.”

“Shush.”

He dipped his head to kiss you. You put your hands on his cheeks. You melted into him. You tried to imagine what Quinn would’ve said if she was here. Probably some crude joke that all three of you knew to be true in the end.

You pulled away from him and kissed his jaw as you did so.

“Bet you’ve never made out in the Stab shrine before,” he questioned jokingly. You scoffed.

“Alright Ethan,” you scoffed. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t wanna talk about feelings,” he whined. “I have to be back soon.”

“You came all the way up here to have sex in front of all these dead peoples possessions?” He paused. He knew how that sounded. He also knew he had faked your death. He wasn’t super sure how to handle this one.

“Yes?”

You narrowed your eyes.

“I’m not gonna see you before the whole big thing. You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”

“Pillowtalk,” he breathed. You pretended to think.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You sat up against the wall of the backrooms. You dragged him away from the prying eyes of all the killer memorabilia.

“Are you scared?” you questioned. He had his head resting in your lap. He had to leave soon, you both knew it.

“No,” he said quietly. “My dad will be there. He wouldn’t let us die when he’s with us.” You were brushing your fingers through his curls. You looked down at his big doe eyes, a faint smile on your face.

“I’m scared.”

“Don’t be.”

“You can’t stop me,” you promised. He rolled his eyes. He hummed pleasantly from your touch. “You’ll be safe, yeah?”

“I’m going to kill someone.”

“I know. I know.” You tried not to think of it. You couldn’t imagine his eyes going black, killing people without remorse. Even when he was rushing at you with the knife, you knew he was just Ethan. “I still want you to be safe.”

“I’ll be safe.”

“You have to go.” He groaned. You pushed him gently so he would get off of you. You would be stuck here. Maybe you would have another Stab marathon. You were beginning to like even the shitty ones. Stab 3 started to become an odd comfort. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah E. I promise.”

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagines #scream imagines #scream 6 spoilers #ghostface x reader #ghostface x fem!reader #ethan landry x fem!reader #scream spoilers #black balloons tag

853 notes · View notes

playbucky · 5 months

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Operation Safe House | 1 |

Price needs a safe house, you have a safe house. Should be an easy deal, right? Well when he and the team appear in the middle of the night, you come across Ghost, Gaz and Soap, all who are unsure of you and the solitude that you have. The solitude that will soon beep broken when the people they are hunting show up unannounced. Characters – Reader (Reaper), Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz. Word Count – 2.3k Warnings – Mentions of rape, not stated out right but it is suggested.

‘Price.’ You greeted the man in front of you along with the other three men who were stood in the middle of your living room. ‘Reaper, you got space for four of us?’ Price asked, you rolled your shoulders. ‘Well you’re in.’ You commented, he gave you a shy smile. ‘Do you know your length of vacation?’ You asked, you could feel the three other men stare at you. ‘Unknown.’ Price replied, you hummed and nodded. ‘Very well.’ You said as you rolled your shoulders again and looked over the four men, their large forms seemed to take up the entire room. The door chapped and you watched as they all tensed up and moved to their guns. ‘Stay.’ You spat out, a finger stretched towards the two men, ‘Stay quiet.’ You warned them, the door chapped again, you walked into the small corridor before you opened the front door. Soap tilted his head as he watched Ghosts reaction and tried to listen to the conversation but all he could make out was mumbles. The door was then shut before your footsteps sounded and you reappeared. ‘You’ll have to bunk the night, they’re watching.’ You replied, Price nodded and stood up. ‘How many?’ ‘Three, two were in the van but I believe they might have a sniper and more in the back.’ You explained, Prince pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Let me shut the curtains then you can move freely.’ You told them and moved around them as you pulled the curtains over. ‘Price I don’t think this is a good option.’ Soap said, he cautiously looked in the direction that you went in. ‘It might not be but it’s better than taking our chances with them.’ Price explained, Soap ran his tongue over his dry lips. ‘What about Reaper?’ Gaz asked, Ghost was relieved that he wasn’t the one to ask. ‘She’s fine.’ Price replied as you appeared at the doorway. ‘Lights go out at twenty-three hundred hours, any later and the neighbours will notice.’ You said, the men nodded. ‘What about weapons?’ Soap asked, you tilted your head to the side. ‘Follow me.’ ‘Top drawer, left hand side, two cupboards above you,’ you pointed to behind Gaz, he turned and opened the doors to reveal the guns hung inside, ‘fruit bowl and then they two.’ You said, as you tapped the two doors, Soap walked over to the fruit bowl and moved the lemon and limes to the side before he came across hand grenades. Ghost opened the last two cupboard doors as Price appeared beside him, they stepped back at the makeshift armoury. Ghost looked to Price who looked please before he turned as you reappeared with a gun that looked comically large compared to you but you handled it with ease. ‘Bedrooms upstairs, don’t go snooping in my shit.’ You warned as you checked you gun, the boys froze as you looked at them from the doorway. ‘Why do you have so much?’ Gaz quizzed, his eyes wide as looked over the selection. ‘I’m in charge of safe housing and have a few jobs with contractors.’ You informed them, lowering the gun to your side. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t know your names, ranks or ages I only know Prices name since he’s been here many times and your code names, I stay away and protect.’ You added when you noticed Soap and Ghost share a look, you looked between the two men and Soap nodded

‘You don’t have to lurk in the shadows.’ You commented, your gaze didn’t break from the computer screen that casted a bright glare over your face, the glasses did nothing to protect your eyes from the glare that seeped off them. ‘I’m not.’ He said as he walked forward, he had ditched the plastic skull but still supported the black balaclava, ‘Plus, you’re not doing much watching.’ He accused you, you arched an eyebrow as you reached forward and picked up the remote before you pressed a button. The TV to his left light up and the multiple rectangles came to life, he turned and watched. ‘I take protecting the people that come in here seriously, I understand that it’s hard to trust but…’ you trailed off, flashes of the flames appeared and your grip tightened, ‘I don’t make it a habit of letting my employees die.’ You finished, his gaze moved over you before he turned to the camera. ‘You can sit with me if you’d like but don’t expect a conversation.’ You told him, you gestured to the couch which he took two steps over before he dropped into it, a groan escaped him as he rested his muscles.

‘Where you going?’ A ruff voice asked, Ghost he was still sat on the couch that he hadn’t left all night, his large arms crossed over his chest. ‘A run.’ You replied, the hoodie over you head. ‘You’re leaving us here?’ ‘My routine keeps you safe especially when the men are still outside.’ You stated before you walked away from them and shut the door behind him.

They all jerked when the key slid into the lock and the door opened, you said goodbye to someone before you stepped in and shut the door. ‘It’s just me.’ You called out as you chucked your keys into the small bowl and slid your shoes off. ‘Do you do anything other than sit around?’ You asked, the same somber looks as they took in your sweat covered one. ‘Are they still there?’ Gaz asked. ‘Yup.’ You replied, you removed your phone from your pocket, ‘I’m gonna go shower, then we can discuss the plan.’ You said and made eye contact with Price who nodded. You gave him a small nod in return before you removed your headphones and sat them on the kitchen counter. You then grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled it over your shoulder, you could instantly feel them look at you before looking away but the ragged scar started under your ribs and ended at centre of your back caught their attention. You chucked the wet T-shirt over to the washing machine and turned around, which revealed more scars, smaller but littered across your stomach, chest and across your shoulders. You ignored the looks, everyone reacted the same when they saw them but you continued the short distance to the bathroom. ‘How’d you meet her?’ Gaz asked when the door shut, Price lifted his head. ‘Seven years ago.’ He said his brows furrowed, the water was switched on, ‘She was a field officer before her accident but she decided to become a contractor.’ Price started. ‘Accident?’ Soap asked, Price hesitated he didn’t know if he should tell them or not. ‘Reaper was apart of a group like us, her and five others went on a mission, two months later she walked back to base covered in scars and refused to talk for a month.’ He said, Gaz turned and looked in the direction you went, feeling like he was hearing a dirty secret. ‘Turns out her heli was knocked out the sky, no comms or anything worked. The other members had died on or shortly after impact but she survived.’ He finished, Ghost lowered his head. ‘What happened?’ Soap asked, Price shrugged. ‘We don’t know, Reaper never told us anything about they months.’ ‘You’ll need to stay another night.’ You stated as you reappeared, the men watched as you moved to the desk you and Ghost had sat at last night. ‘Should we ask why?’ Price quizzed, you shrugged a shoulder before you pressed the button and the security cameras came up on the screen. ‘They haven’t changed out, they’re planning something.’ ‘Or they could disappear within an hour.’ Gaz stated, you raised a shoulder in a shrug, you focused back on Price. ‘That or they are waiting for reinforcements.’ Price said, his brows pinched together as you lowered your head. ‘Why wait? They’ve marked the house, watched it for two days but it’s only been me they’ve saw.’ Soap said, you rolled your wrists. ‘Infrared? They probably know we’re here.’ Gaz suggested, you shook your head. ‘Can’t use it on the house.’ ‘What the house is state of the art, comes with in walls and floor heating.’ You commented, ‘the pipes run below and above us creates a massive bubble.’ You explained, they looked shocked. ‘Windows?’ Soap asked. ‘Bullets can’t get through, might break at a rocket launcher – hasn’t been tested though.’ You told them truthfully. ‘I might need to break one rule Price.’ You said, Price turned to you. ‘What?’ He asked. ‘Who’s chasing you?’ You asked, focused on the computer as you clicked through programmes before you stopped. ‘The Russian’s.’ Price told you, your brow pinched together. ‘Why are they here in London?’ You quizzed, ‘Bigger trading area.’ Gaz said, you ran your tongue over your teeth. ‘Great.’ You sighed.

You held the gun with one hand as you lowered onto your knees and spread them out, you continued bending until the gun's legs touched the ground. You shifted to lie on your dominant side before you pulled that knee up, the handle of the gun rested on your shoulder and you breathed. ‘Reaper.’ The voice called out, you moved to find them, ‘Or should I call you Y/N?’ The Russian asked, your shoulders tensed up. ‘I knew you were familiar, I had friends raving about you over in Berlin.’ ‘Do the men that your protecting know that you willingly spread your legs for the boss?’ He asked, you lowered the rifle. ‘Enough about me,’ you shouted loudly, he smiled widely, ‘if you’re accusing me of this I feel like I should know your name.’ You said, the area was silent. ‘Percy. Percy Markov.’ He introduced himself. ‘He’s the lead we need.’ Prices voice came through the comms, he’s more than that you thought. ‘I don’t like talking up to you, it hurts my neck, could you come down?’ Percy asked, you tilted your head to the side and allowed it to touch the cold metal, and you groaned. ‘Reaper be careful.’ Price warned you, you pushed yourself up with a grunt. ‘Come on Price, he just wants to talk.’ ‘Don’t kill him.’ He warned, you scoffed as you passed him on your way down the stairs, Soap and Gaz waited in line with him. You opened the door, noticing the group of armed men that stood on the road. Your eyes darted around before they pinpointed on Percy, his hair had been cut since that last time you had saw him, his skin still pale but decorated with the tattoos. Percy smiled when he spotted you. ‘Step outside.’ Percy said, ‘no weapons.’ He added, you tilted your head to the side before you reached behind your back and pulled the dagger free from your waist band. You showed it to Percy before you turned and held your hand out to Ghost who was just behind the door. His gloved hand accepted it. ‘And the one of your ankle.’ Percy added, your eyes flickered to the side before you balanced on one leg and slipped your fingers into your boot and pulled the sharpened blade out. You lifted you gaze and met Ghost’s as you handed it to him.

‘Reaper.’ Ghost grumbled, your jaw clenched. ‘Come on Y/N I don’t have all day.’ Percy complained, you blinked slowly. ‘I want to savour my time alive.’ You called back, you gaze then locked on Ghost’s before you stepped forward. ‘I need you to trust me for the next five minutes.’ You whispered to him, knowing your conversation was blocked by the door, you pulled back enough to see him nod. ‘Why are so sure that you’ll die?’ Percy asked as you stepped over the barrier, he stepped closer. ‘Because I’m going to do a stupid thing.’ You admitted to him, his brows furrowed together before you gave him a polite smile. He ducked his head and returned the smile, but it was quickly wiped off when you stretched out, the side of your hand connected with his throat. Percy buckled over and you wrapped an arm around his shoulders, you pulled him tight to your chest as you grabbed the small pistol that sat on his hip. Emptying the clip out you watched his men drop, uncaring if you had hit them or not as you turned and kicked Percy into the house. He stumbled backwards and tripped on the small ledge, his back collided with the floor before you chucked his empty gun across the street and jumped in. Within seconds of you slamming the door shut and flipping the locks on, Percy was in handcuffs as you dragged him to the living room. ‘You bitch.’ Percy groaned, as Soap and Ghost hauled him up and into a wooden chair provided by Gaz. ‘Oh, he’s alive.’ You said as you squatted down in front of him. ‘We’ll start hunting your neighbours.’ He hissed out, you pursed your lips and tipped your head. ‘Hard chance.’ You replied, Percy and the group looked at you confused. ‘There are no neighbours, I wouldn’t put innocents at risk.’ You explained. ‘Now, these men are going to ask you questions and you’re going to answer.’ ‘And if I don’t?’ ‘I will peel your skin from your body whilst you watch.’ You told him calmly, this affected him as he glanced to the men before he looked back at you. ‘Do they know what happened to you?’ Percy quizzed, jutting his chin to them. ‘No, we’ve only just met.’ ‘Did you know she killed her teammates?’ He asked, the men didn’t react, but Ghost watched as you stood to your full height. He was sure he heard some of the bones cracking. ‘Her intel led the team right to them, watched as they crashed and burned before her.’ He taunted, you raised an eyebrow as you nodded, ‘Then she joined them, worked alongside them and spread her legs as her pay to them.’ You rolled your shoulders and stepped forward, your face void of all emotion. Percy’s eyes widened slightly before you smiled down at him. ‘The men have questions to ask.’ You told Percy, occasionally thumps connected with the front door as his henchmen shot at it.

‘The police will be here.’ Percy sneered, this seemed to stop the men from going any further. ‘Ask away.’ You motioned to him, Percy continued to fight the restraints. ‘The police?’ Gaz asked, you shook your head. ‘Unless I enter a code, no police come to this street.’ You said, you walked into the kitchen and poured yourself a drink. ‘So, you can get messy and he can scream like the pig he is.’ You told them before you downed the glass. ‘Heard you spread your legs for them.’ Percy said, Price and Soap looked at you as Ghost continued to stare at him, ‘Specifically the boss, had a soft spot for him didn’t you.’ You clenched your jaw and looked at him, the wide smile taunting you. ‘Two months was a long time to survive there, you must have some really good p -,’ ‘Why are you so fascinated with me?’ You cut, he looked at you, the bloody nose dripped over his lips. ‘I’m not fascinated with you.’ ‘No?’ You quizzed, he shook his head, ‘all you’ve talked about is me, my past and my wrong doings.’ You listed, Percy’s face dropped slightly. ‘Why are you really in London?’ You asked him, he looked at you as he raised an eyebrow. ‘Percy, you better talk or I’ll use my skills that you know so much about.’ You threatened. ‘Fine.’ You said, you almost heard his exhale in relief as you turned and opened a drawer. The items inside knocked against each other before you rummage around, the men watched as you smiled and stuck you hand in the drawer, you pulled it out with a wooden rolling pin clutched tightly. ‘I’ll give you ten goes to answer the question, then I’ll move onto your toes.’ You said, calmly whilst you chucked the rolling pin up and caught it. You walked over to him, he started to panic and you smiled, quickly you stretched a hand out and wrapped it around his wrist. You yanked it forward, he yelped as he tried to fight it. Carefully you moved your wrist down his hand, you pulled a finger free and rested it over the edge of the armrest. ‘Why are you in London?’ You asked, he glared at you whilst he remained silent. You pursed your lips and nodded before you brought the rolling pin down, his finger snapped loudly as he yelled, you ignored it as you extended his middle finger. ‘Why here?’

#captain john price #John price x reader #reader x John price #John price #ghost x reader #reader x ghost #ghost imagines #simon ghost x reader #Simon riley x reader #reader x Simon riley #cod mw2 #cod mwf2 #cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick

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idolatrybarbie · 6 months

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for my fifty follower celebration! @bastardmandennis asked: dieter bravo and prompt no. 5— "ghosts aren't real, except when they are." it's scary story experiment...i haven't written horror in probably two years. enjoy the pretty graphic if nothing else.

rating & word count: mature | 2.8k

warnings: referenced substance abuse, mentions of alcohol, dieter is sober, one song-based joke (please get it plsplspls), reader is gender neutral, a good ol' haunting tale.

It’s late. How late? Excellent question.

You’re technically on vacation—one week out of fifty-six, when your boss takes his annual trip to Seoul to “unwind.” You’ve never asked him what that means, exactly. Better not to know what Dieter Bravo gets up to in the name of relaxation.

For the past thirty-four months, you’ve been working with the Hollywood troglodyte, following him around the world and across productions to take notes and document the goings on of his life. All of this in the hopes of ghostwriting his tell-all book. Technically, you were supposed to start outlining a manuscript this spring. The publisher doesn’t think you have enough material yet to make the memoir appetizing. What they don’t realize is that Bravo is not a very appetizing man.

He’s…odd. From the moment you first shook hands with him, you’ve felt an off presence surrounding him that you still can’t quite place, even almost three years later. He treats you more like an assistant than anything, asking you to fetch him coffee or an eight-ball; the request varies based on his mood. His actual assistant, Carla, is a bit of a shadow. Still, she’s there to share anxious backseat smiles with you on the way to Dieter’s red carpet appearances, a silent shoulder to lean on.

Sitting on the broken couch of your one bedroom apartment, you’ve lost focus of the Word document on the screen of your laptop. You’ve been transferring the last two months of paper notes to digital copies for the last three hours, resenting the task the longer it takes. Dieter wanted to experience the Swiss Alps before the first day of autumn, dragging you to the mountains for a six week stay. Apparently, they don’t have mobile connection at four thousand feet.

The thought crosses your mind to call it a night, leave the rest ‘til morning. This is your only real time to rest, after all. Before you can act upon it, though, your phone buzzes beside you. “Entry Of The Gladiators” blares from the pinhole of a speaker. The song has a Pavlovian effect on you, meeting the song with a sigh and the tick of your jaw.

“Dieter,” you answer, holding the phone to your ear.

“You picked up,” he says.

“Why are you calling?” You can’t hide the irritation in your voice. Shifting your laptop off of your thighs, you stand and stretch, wedging your cell between your cheek and shoulder.

“I just—I thought—”

“Aren’t you in South Korea?” you ask. Aren’t you supposed to be bothering someone else?

“Came back early. Got a bad vibe,” he says.

“A bad vibe?” you ask. “Come on, Dieter. That trip was important.” Important for you to have a social life for a sweet seven days, but also for him, too. If you remembered correctly, he was supposed to have a business meeting with Genesis Motor about starring in their new campaign of overseas commercials.

“I rescheduled with Genesis, everything’s fine. Don’t bitch at me,” Dieter says.

“I’m not—” you stop yourself, pausing mid-pace on the worn shag of your living room. Thirty-four months, and this is how he’s treating you? “You know what, fuck you. Fuck you, Dieter. My one week off from your crazy goddamn antics, and you’re fucking it all up. I’m done. Done.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he urges.

“Calling the publisher in the morning, so you can find yourself a new ghostwriter.” Satisfaction rolls through you as you hang up on him, the tiny button on your screen giving you power. Yeah, fuck that guy. You plop back down on the on the couch, pulling your laptop back to you. Going through your hard drive, you start to load every file from the past three years with details on Dieter into the recycling bin.

Cold air rolls in from the window, cracked ajar to keep patchouli incense smoke away from the dingy plastic alarm on your ceiling. The rattling outside barely catches your attention, another noise lost to the wind. You blink. Blink again.

You know that feeling, like someone’s watching you? It’s a sense you’ve become mighty acquainted with in the last handful of years. Following a megastar around like a toddling penguin in his entourage tended to pull some attention back on you. When you look up your name, there are a handful of Variety articles, a PopCrave tweet or two that show up. A snapshot of your professional life, all in relation to Dieter. Over time, it’s gotten less uncomfortable. People love celebrities, and they just want to see them. Harmless.

But this feeling…you don’t want to look up from your screen. Continuing the task of putting every last document on Dieter in the desktop’s recycling bin, you switch over to a new tab when you’re done; search for something unimportant, waiting for this to pass. Your breath catches in your throat, heart skipping a beat. Finally, when you can’t fight the urge anymore, you turn and look.

Nothing. The smog-ridden navy sky of Los Angeles meets you with the pathetic twinkle of a far off star. You breathe in through your nose, then out again in a deep sigh. Nothing. Nothing’s there.

Exhaustion claims you when you aren’t paying attention. Your sleep is dreamless, for the most part. You hear a subtle dripping the whole night, searching for the source in the dark. With your eyes closed, the task is impossible. You let the noise come closer, long and loud enough now that you learn to tune it out. Nightmares of a leaky faucet; how odd.

You wake up in the bathtub, laptop beside you, pressed between your clothed thigh and the fiberglass. The faucet leaks steadily above your head, water dripping down onto your skin. It’s gotten all over your face, at the edges of your hairline, in your eyes. Spluttering, you sit up. Your scalp is damp. Water has seeped into the collar of your shirt. Certainly you didn’t settle on the idea of a bath in the middle of the night.

Before you can question it more, your cellphone rings from another room. Scrambling out of the tub, you almost slip and fall against the wall tiles. Getting a grip on the edge of the tub, you step a foot at a time onto the bathroom floor and pad to the living room. Your phone is wedged between the cushions of the couch. Wrenching it from the fabric, you answer on the last ring.

“Hello?”

“I need to see you.” Dieter. Again.

“Dieter, my mind hasn’t changed since last night.” Looking at the clock on the wall, it hasn’t even been twelve hours.

“This isn’t about that,” he says. “Can you just come over?” It almost sounds like he’s begging…almost.

“Look, I’m busy today.”

“Tonight then.” His voice cracks, and you can only imagine the wiry, wide-eyed man on the other end of the line. “Please,” he whispers.

In all of your time spent with Dieter Bravo, you have never heard him use his manners—much less ask for something with such desperate politeness tacked onto the request.

“Okay. Okay, fine. Tonight. Just…don’t do anything stupid, alright?” you ask.

“Yeah. Okay,” Dieter agrees. Then the phone call dies.

You really don’t have anything to do today, the Friday of your week away from Bravoland. Sitting on the couch, you look around your apartment, taking stock of the life you’ve cobbled together here. Instead of pride or nostalgia, it fills you with dread. The glassy frames holding photos of family and old friends make your skin crawl, their resin paper eyes boring holes into you as they stare. A chill crosses over your body, prickling at your arms. You go to close the living room window to find it already shut.

You stay out of the living room, hiding away from a sense of unease in your bedroom. Still, it lingers in your doorway. That watchful sense returns. Your eyes stay open, glued to the ceiling as you lay down. You can’t leave, but you can’t sleep. Keeping your eyes open seems to be all you have—like letting them flutter closed would be an invitation for the unease of the apartment to waltz in and consume you.

Time slows to a drag, the sun absent from the sky as the day passes you by. The grey light from the window bathes everything in an uncanny dullness. Your laptop still sits in the bathtub. When night finally falls, you exit the apartment without looking back. The door closes behind you with a slam. You don’t even touch the handle.

The drive into the Hollywood Hills is the only moment of peace you’ve had since you woke up in that bathroom. You refuse to acknowledge whatever is going on at your place. You’re overreacting. All the work has set you on edge, and now your mind is playing tricks on you.

Yeah, that’s what it is—the work. Fatigue. All those late nights transferring and taking notes, or following Dieter to club after club, waiting for him to finish snorting a full 8-ball outside bathroom doors. Most nights blur together these days, the only thing that differentiates them being the photographs you take and the date you write at the top of your notepad. Your calendar is dependent on what colour tie Dieter wears on The Tonight Show or Kimmel every handful of months.

The Bravo mansion is modest in comparison to some of the architectural monstrosities out this way. Still, it manages to intimidate you every time you see it. Slowly, you pull up to Dieter’s place and park in the cobblestone drive. If you squint, you can see the Hollywood sign through a thick pack of warbling trees.

The sun is not shining down on the house today as it usually is. Even here, on land deemed the pinnacle of both the American and Hollywood dream, the sky is painted an ugly pewter. The building looks shadowy in its height, the twin pair of art deco doors no longer a quirky, eccentric detail of the house but a gaping maw. The small windows that frame them, a result of Dieter’s obsession with triangles, look like raw and jagged teeth. You don’t bother to lock your car when you approach the front steps, using the metal knocker at the door.

It only takes a few moments for Dieter to appear, opening one door and giving you a once-over. He’s still in his pajamas, missing his usual lounging robe. The lack of sunglasses present on his face indicates to you that he’s not hungover (yet).

“You look like shit,” is the first thing he says to you.

“I can still go home, you know.” Taking a step back, you raise a brow at him and angle your body back towards your car. The threat is empty, of course. Nothing could send you back to that place; might as well sell it now.

“Shit—sorry. I’m sorry, come in,” Dieter corrects himself.

The door opens wider with the length of his arm, and you duck in past him. The air inside the house is permeated with must, a mix of mildew and unsettled dust. Usually, the sight of Dieter’s mansion reminds you of general unwash, not a horrible monster house. Today is special.

“So?” you ask, faux-irritation lacing your tone. “You wanted me over here. You know it’s my week off, right?”

“There’s something wrong,” Dieter says immediately. He peers around the edge of the front door before it shuts. He locks the door, then reaches up to fasten the deadbolt.

Immediately, that tells you that this is serious. Forgetting the unease at your own apartment, you ask, “Is your stalker back? She’s out there, isn’t she?”

“What?” Dieter asks. “No, it’s not that. Nothing outside.”

He walks past you and deeper into the house, leaving you no choice but to follow.

“What do you mean, outside?”

“There’s something wrong in the house,” he explains.

“Like…”

Dieter looks around, giving each shoulder a hyperbolic check. Then he walks closer, so close that you can smell his breath—bubblegum toothpaste and cigarettes. Your heart speeds up a little, the proximity eliciting a light jog in your chest. It’s not like man has never been this close, but the last time…

“A haunting,” he whispers.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, an airy chuckle that pushes Dieter back a few feet.

“Come on, Dieter,” you say.

His face pulls tighter, look severe. “I’m serious.”

“Are you high?” you ask. “I don’t smell any alcohol on you. Did you take something? Because I can call your sponsor if—”

“Will you listen to me?!” he roars over you. In the three years you’ve known him, Dieter has never yelled. He gets a little wild, antics more than slightly crazy, but he doesn’t raise his voice. You watch him closely, eyes wide, as he recomposes himself. “There is something wrong in this house. I can’t sleep, can barely eat. It feels like—like I’m never alone. Moreso than usual, okay? I’m waking up in strange parts of the house, and my shit’s in places it shouldn’t be. And I called Brad,” his manager, “and he thinks I’m full of shit. Thinks I’m on another bender. I just…fuck. I just need you to believe me.”

You blink. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Dieter parrots. His eyes are all glossy, ready to spill with fresh tears. You thought that you had seen all of this man, the barest and ugliest parts of him. Now, you see you were wrong. He looks sad. Scared.

“I believe you,” you sigh. “I believe you. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“We could leave,” you suggest.

“No, no,” he insists. “I don’t think it’ll like that.” It.

“So then, what?”

“Stay here? With me,” Dieter says.

You should say no, heart racing now as blood rushes hot through your brain. Instead, you nod and follow him to his home theater, where he seems to be camping out. Dieter has too many candles lit not to be a fire hazard, with bagged snacks and bottles of water strewn about the floor and the plush horseshoe couch; the middle is stuffed with the same plush cushion as the back of the seats, making it more of a circular daybed than anything. Blankets are balled up at one end, two beaten up pillows next to them.

Dieter has the radio playing off of the luxury sound system, the large projector screen dark.

“I don’t think it likes noise,” he explains.

Dieter asks you to sit with him through the night, listening to shitty pop songs, car commercials, and every once in a while, FM radio static. He says the static is it, a creature he refuses to elaborate upon. He fists his hand into the blankets each time the station cuts out and turns to white noise.

This goes on for almost two hours. You start to get bored, and more pressingly, tired. Sleep calls to you, your mind settling the weirdness before as your imagination, and whatever is going on here a facet of Dieter’s. Is it possible for two people who haven’t seen each other in days, and live on opposite sides of town, to share in the same delusion? Surely. They had a name for it—folly of two.

That must be it. Working for a celebrity has finally driven you mad.

Leaning heavy against the cushions of the couch, you allow your eyes to slowly slip closed. Before the world disappears entirely, something is shaking you awake. No, not something, but Dieter. His wide palm is grasped over your shoulder, swaying you back and forth violently in his grip.

“What? What is it?” you growl.

“You can’t sleep,” he says.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Your irritation skyrockets as you sit up, pulling out your phone to scroll through your contacts.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling your goddamn sponsor, so he can do his fucking job and I can get some shut eye.”

Dieter says your name; you ignore him, pressing ‘call’. “Please, don’t do that.” He tries to grab the phone from your hand, but you get up from the couch, out of reach. You want to believe him, you do, but you have no faith. You can't do this anymore; won't entertain the delusion any longer.

The line rings for thirty seconds before the sponsor finally picks up.

“Hi, is this Jo—” you stop yourself. A deep, heavy breathing sounds off from the other end of the line. “Hello?”

“Hang up,” Dieter whispers, shaking his head. You raise a finger at him. “Hang up!”

He moves from his lax position, kneeling up far enough to snatch your cell phone away and end the call.

“What the fuck?”

“It’s—”

“There is no it!” you yell. “There is nothing here, Dieter! No one is out to get you, or watching you. No one cares, okay? Ghosts aren’t real.”

Dieter watches you, and you watch him back. Holding a steely gaze, you don’t register the fizzle-pop of light bulbs around the two of you until they’ve already exploded. Shards of hot glass fly from the fixtures and land on the carpeted floor. All at once, the flame at each wick of Dieter’s candles is snuffed out. You stand still, frozen in complete darkness.

Dieter uses your phone for light, the screen illuminating the hollows of his face.

“Except when they are.”

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories #50 followers

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sageryuri · 8 months

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ANIMAL NOISES, YANG JUNGWON.

pairing yang jungwon + afab!reader.

genre pure cuteness.

summary jungwon is tired of the city, he needs a change, and maybe a cute girl to make him feel better.

word count 6.6k

warnings follows jungwon’s thoughts rather than readers, it’s just cute. no idols represented in this writing are not based on their real self.

an this was so cute it made me sad. sorry if something doesn’t make sense i wrote this over two months lol

Jungwon doesn't remember the last time he left the city, all he knew was the sound of the crowding streets and the smoke pollution that slowly filled the air, that no one seemed to really bother about too much. One day, he had woken up and decided that he was simply bored of this lifestyle that he was born into.

For days, the boy lay on his couch, slouching trying to find the perfect place that would get him out of the city for a few months. He had reached a point where he had began to question if he really cared where he was going.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he read the bold letters that spread across his screen. Oak Farm looking for helper during the summer, 234 miles way from you. This was absolutely perfect.

Not only was this far away enough from where he lived, but it sounded like a tranquil vacation. He didn't mind putting in some help while relaxing in the sun for a few hours a day. Quickly, he clicked on the link and sent a message to the requester, who soon replied relieved that someone finally decided to reply to them.

Jungwon was already packed and ready within a few days, constantly making sure that he had absolutely everything with him, and soon his father was dropping him off in front of a beautiful plot of land completed with wooden buildings and fences, animals and produce covering the grounds.

"I can always come pick you up if you aren't enjoying yourself. I didn't really think that this was your kind of thing." Jungwon’s father didn't quite understand what had gone through his son's mind to suddenly want a change of lifestyle. He was sure that within a week, he would receive a call from Jungwon, complaining about how desperately he wanted to come back home.

"Seriously, dad I’ll be fine. I’ve been looking for something like this for awhile, and I think it's good to get away for a month or two. I’ll call you, but not to pick me up." Jungwon replies, and he helps his father haul out all of his luggage from the car. His father mutters a small 'if you say so' under his breath, still not convinced, "That house is where I’m staying, I’ll be back."

Jungwon makes his way to the cottage-like house that he had saw a picture of online. Before knocking on the door, he clears his throat and takes a deep breath. After a few seconds, he finally knocks and he hears shuffling around the house. Soon enough, the door is opening and Jungwon comes face to face with someone.

This was most definitely not the old lady that he had previously had a conversation with, and it definitely wasn't her husband either.

“Oh, hi! You must be Jungwon, nice to meet you, I’m YN. This is my grandma's land, I’ll go get her for you now." You had a sweet smile on your face, eyes sparkling into his. Jungwon tried his best to keep his jaw shut, and he was sure that his irises had formed into love hearts.

"Uh- yeah, yeah, thank you." He finally smiles back at you, and you walk away leaving the door open. He takes the time to investigate what he can see of the inside from where he stood. It was neat and tidy, decorated in a way that can only be described as an old couple. He thought it was adorable, and it was refreshing to see considering he was stuck with the industrial, modernised design at home.

His dad and your grandma arrive at the door at the same time, Jungwon’s father holding the suitcases and the old lady, who jungwon remembered to be called June, was holding a steaming cup of tea in a gorgeous china teacup, "Oh, it's so lovely to finally meet you, dear. We’ve needed another man around here ever since Daniel started getting back problems..."

Jungwon hears you chuckle from the dining table that you had began setting up, so he assumes that Daniel is your grandfather. June and his father greet each other, small talk being made while the suitcases are being brought inside. The leather appearance didn't match the vibe of the house, and Jungwon wondered if his clothing would make him stand out like a sore thumb.

When his father leaves, once again reminding him that he doesn't have to do this, June states that jungwon can get settled in his temporary room until dinner was ready. It was really sweet how they had immediately began treating him as if he had been here for awhile.

He isn't sure if the room is his style, considering that the blankets have a designed on them that resemble cute carrots that are blushing, but it's not that big of a deal. He’s sure that there aren't many men that are willing to do this, and he doesn't want them to spend money on unnecessary items.

He settles himself on the bed, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket to message his friends about how everything was going so far. The bars on the screen aren't exactly high, but it's good enough to send a text.

JUNGWON: hey! just got here, it's cute as hell in here

HEESEUNG: not going soft on us are you??

HEESEUNG: haha, glad you're feeling good abt it so far

JAY: i wish i came with you because riki is driving me fucking insane

JUNGWON: there's a girl here and i didnt know there would be a girl here

RIKI: BRO IS FREAKING OUTTTT‼️‼️‼️

JAY: oh my god i'm going crazy 🤗

Before Jungwon can curse Riki out over text, there's a soft knock of the door. Jungwon makes a great attempt to not stumble over his words when he says 'come in', and he has a soft smile on his face when you open the door. You lean against the door way and return the smile, "Sorry about the bedding, I know it's probably not your kind of thing, it's from when I was a kid."

"Do you live here? It’s gorgeous around here." Jungwon notices that the corners of your lips lift a little more when he compliments the home, and he isn't quite sure why you appear to have some sort of hold on him. You were just a girl who so happened to be extremely pretty, maybe it didn't help that you were really sweet too.

"I’ve lived with my grandparents pretty much my whole life, I don't think I could ever seen myself being anywhere else. You, however, don't look like you come to places like this often." You move yourself over to sit on the bed instead, and Jungwon moves over a little to give you more space, but also so he wouldn't feel his leg brush against yours.

"Well, you'd be right to assume that. I’ve lived in the city since i was a kid so it's really all i've ever known. It’s not very enjoyable though, but my dad seems to really like it. I can't wait until I can move out." Jungwon finds it difficult to look you in the eyes, but he truly tries his best, he doesn't want you to feel as awkward as he does.

"I was just wondering... I’m sure you didn't just come here to help out, it's a getaway too I’m sure. If you'd like, a couple of my friends and I are going out this weekend, and I was wondering if you wanted to come? Just so you don't feel too lonely." You had asked, and he didn't think you actually could have gotten any more perfect. He imagined that your grandma may have pressured you into asking, but you had still asked him.

“I’d really like that, thank you.” The conversation finished at that, and you informed him that dinner would be ready soon before leaving the room. Jungwon flipped himself backwards into the bed, his hands holding his face as emotions rushed through his body.

He wanted a calm getaway. He could not stay calm while he was around you. Yang Jungwon had no idea what he was going to do with himself.

Poor Jungwon had forgot to consider that people who lived on farms, people who owned a bunch of loud animals, would be morning people. Poor Jungwon was not a morning person, and had never been a morning person.

The sound of a rooster outside almost made him jump out of his skin (he had really thought they only made those dramatic waking calls in movies, he was wrong). He picks up his phone to read seven AM, and he gasps in pure distress at the idea of being awake at this time. He would usually sneak in another few hours.

And he would have, but he could hear clanging of pots downstairs, and something smelled so good it was practically dragging him out of the bed. So he does, but he makes sure you sneak his way into the bathroom to make himself more presentable — but he senses that as the days go on, he'll probably care less and less about looking good.

When Jungwon reaches the bottom of the stairs, he sees you all making your way around the kitchen. However, there's two new another additions to the trio which was June, Daniel and YN. There’s a girl and boy sat on the floor, maybe around eight or nine, who are giggling with each other and playing. Jungwon finally speaks, "Good morning."

"Good morning darling! Did you sleep well? You’ll have quite a busy day today." June gives him the sweetest little smile and it truly tugs on Jungwon’s heart strings. You walk past quickly, saying good morning as you rushed around the house, placing a hand on his shoulder as you pass by him. Daniel waves, immediately going back to his newspaper.

"It was really good, thank you. Is there anything that I can help with?" June only laughs and shakes her head, ushering him to take a seat at the table. Jungwon wonders how he feels more comfortable with the family here compared to his own — maybe because they never gave him the opportunity to eat with them, that seemed to be normal here.

There is small talk during the breakfast, and Jungwon learns that Daniel isn't as scary as he looks. They inform jungwon that he'll likely spend the rest of the day with you and the horses and he acts cooly, as if he wasn't about to burst at the thought of getting to know you better.

The day is bright and the sky is clear, and it's nice to acknowledge that there's no grey smoke in the sky, only the fluffy white clouds. When he arrived the day previous, he hadn't given himself much time to really look at his surroundings. he can't help but compare it to home, how free it makes him feel here. The open space is new to him, and though you are stood behind him messing with your boots, he can still feel as if he's by himself.

"Okay! Since it's your first day, I’ll take it easy on you. You can just watch me for today and you can learn the ropes. We mostly just need help with the horses because we recently got a new one." You begin walking away and Jungwon jogs so that he is walking next to you. He can see the horse barn in the distance, as well a few horses rummaging a field of grass, "Wehave a few horses, I teach sometimes. My favourite is Minnie, she's really cute, I think you'll like her too."

"Oh, you're a horse rider? That’s really cool! I wish I could ride a horse... I think I’d just fall right off." You laugh at him and Jungwon’s body feels with pride when he realises — though he tries not to get ahead of himself with jokes, as he'd rather figure out what makes you laugh first.

Point one, when he mentions getting hurt, of course you wouldn't actually laugh if he fell off a horse. He’d hope.

"I can teach you at some point if you want... free of charge, so you better be a natural." You grin at him and he rolls his eyes, hoping the two of you will keep up your playful behaviour. Jungwon enjoys talking to you even if it had happened so often at the moment. You were different from his friends, who were loud and energetic.

"I think we've got enough time for me to learn how to ride a horse, I’m going to be here until the end of August." It was mid-May, so Jungwon knew he would be here for a couple of months. At first, jungwon hadn't been worried that he would get attached to anyone, but you were all so sweet and you had even offered to bring him to meet your friends.

He was already trying to convince himself that the farm wasn't too far away to travel back and forth from.

The two of you make it to the stables, and Jungwon almost finds himself in complete awe. He had been to stables before, but they were never as incredible as yours were, it wasn't difficult to tell that the horses were well looked after, "This way, i’ll introduce you to Honey and Minnie, they're the only ones in their stables right now."

The two horses that you had brought Jungwon to were ethereal. Honey, was well, Honey, and had a long beige mane. Minnie was covered in black and white spots, thought significantly bigger than Honey was. Jungwon hadn’t seen many horses in real life before, but he could tell that these two were well taken care of.

"Unfortunately, there'll be a lack of horse riding today, we just have to take care of them. All the horses have their own days, and this is Honey and Minnie’s. once you know what you're doing, I’ll probably just be leaving you to it in the future. Is it okay if I take your hand?" You ask, and Jungwon is still taking in the previous information when he nods his head.

You softly pull at his hand and he knows that his cheeks are becoming red when the feeling of butterflies decides to appear in his stomach. One after the other, you let Jungwon get used to the two horses by petting them while your hand still rests on his — Jungwon doesn't quite understand why you needed to hold his hand for this, but he isn't complaining.

When you tell Jungwon that it's time for the disgusting part, shivers travel down his spine. The smell when he walks into the actual stable isn't exactly nice, but you seem to have no reaction to it like he does.

You show him all that he needs to know: how to clean out the stable, how to take care of the horses, even the personality between the two horses. He began to realise how educated you were on this, and it only made him feel more attracted to you.

It had taken all day, and when Jungwon got back into his carrot themed bed, he began to question every little thing.

It was a few days later, and the day that Jungwon would be coming with you to meet your friends. Every part of his body was aching from the day previous and he would have loved to lay in bed all day, but he would not be missing this opportunity.

Jungwon stretches as he leaves the bed, and he notices that the whole house is quiet. He decides to go downstairs, and finds that there is no one around. Soon, he seed the pastel purple post-it note stuck onto the fridge that he had known wasn't there before — 'We have all gone to the stalls around the corner, we didn't want to wake you up so early. We’ll be back before ten, June.'

"Ah... that's a bummer, I was kind of looking forward to buying stuff at those stalls. I guess I can always just go another time." Jungwon turns on his heel and looks around the open spaced house, he thought this would be a good time to take a better look around.

His feet take him into the living room, where he had been in for a few moments when he had first arrived. It’s lit with natural lighting and has minimal colour, apart from a green pattern blanket over an armchair and a few fluffy green pillows scattering the sofas.

What begins to catch Jungwon’s eye is the collection of framed pictures sprinkled across the top of a cabinet on the opposite side of the room. In his lonesomeness, Jungwon picks up a picture frame to take a look at it closely.

You, June and Daniel are all in the picture, as well as the two twins, though everyone is significantly younger. The twins are just babies, so he imagines this picture was around six or seven years ago. You are around fourteen years old, and he thinks you look absolutely adorable. Your smile was just as bright as it is now, and you seem to have been just as sweet.

As he places the frame back down, he hears his phone ringing from his back pocket. He sighs, imagining it was his father attempting to get him back home, but he was happily surprised to see a call from his best friend Heeseung, "Hey! i've missed you."

"Hey buddy, I’ve missed you too, everyone has. How are you doing? Found anymore pretty ladies?" Jungwon can hear Heeseung’s teasing tone through the phone, and he rolls his eyes.

At home, the people were difficult to talk to. They weren't kind, or helpful, or filled with hospitality — they tended to be rude and off-putting, blinded by their own riches to care for other people. Somehow, Jungwon and his friends had avoided that ideal, so they were closer than ever. So, Jungwon had never gone through the efforts to find a partner.

"Very funny. No, you know I’ve only been here for like a week. I’ve barely even left the farm. Actually, YN asked me to come with her to meet some of her friends today." Jungwon replies, and he starts to wonder outside and takes a seat on the swinging chair on the decking.

"Really? Don’t go leaving us all back at home, the boys and I were thinking that we could come and visit you next month once you've settled in, though we don't want to intrude on anything." If anything, jungwon wished that his friends would come now.

He can't help but feel a little lost without them, and he wishes that they could have come with him from the beginning. They were all busy people, the oldest having their own business to attend to and Riki was still making his way through college. by next month, they'd likely be more free and Jungwon would be more comfortable.

"I’ll never leave you all, you're my best friends. I’d love if you came down next month, I’ll need some familiar faces." For about an hour, Jungwon and Heeseung find themselves talking about what had happened in the last two days, until you and your family had come back, "I’m gonna have to go, I’ll talk to you again soon."

Jungwon is very anxious once he is in the car with you.

"You don't need to look so nervous, Jungwon. They’re all cool people, I wouldn't be friends with them if they were anything but that." You’re driving down the streets of your town, and it's reaching about five PM, but since it's may the sun is starting to stay out later so it's still bright as it could be, "Are you... Are you worried they might see you differently because you aren't from around here?"

"I mean, I guess so, yeah. In my city, they probably wouldn't treat you too nicely. Not that I’d do the same, obviously. I just don't want your friends to think that of me." Jungwo’s face is resting in his palm as he rests and looks out of the car window, so he doesn't notice the sad and worried look that you give him for a moment.

"The same thing goes for you then. They know I wouldn't be friends with someone if they weren't a good person. This wasn't a pity invite, no matter how you might think it. I really like you." Something in your stomach feels weird when you say those words, and it does the same to Jungwon too, though it does encourage him to look at you and smile.

Within ten minutes, you've reached a field area that you had talked about before. You mentioned how this was the spot you and your friends liked to go when the weather was nice, because it seemed to be the only patch of grass that would get cut.

"Hey, hey! Jungwon, these are my friends. Sunghoon, Sunoo, Yunjin, Jake and Sakura. Friends, this is Jungwon, I told you about him recently." You introduce him to your friends and Jungwon realises he hasn't even planned what he was going to say. So, he sticks with a simple 'hi' as they all usher him to sit down on the blanket with them.

"God, it's so nice to finally meet you. She hasn't shut up about someone coming down to help of the farm for once. You’ve been doing amazing, by the way." this is Yunjin, a blonde haired girl who seems to sit in confidence, she gives a look to you and Jungwon once again doesn't notice you rolling your eyes — he hasn't been very observant today.

"So, heard you came from the city. I did too, I only moved here about a year ago." Jungwon learns that him and Jake were actually from the same city, and all the nerves that had settled themselves in his chest slowly faded away as he got to know the group of friends better.

Somehow, they had managed to talk to each other as if they were old friends who were getting to know each other again, learning about each other for a second time since it was as if they could read each other perfectly. Jungwon knows that his friends and your friends would get along well, and he waits for the day that they can become one.

"I think me and Sunghoon are gonna get going now, he has some stupid curfew on his car so he can't drive past ten PM. We’ll see you both later!" Sakura and Sunghoon stand up and begin leaving, though Yunjin, Jake and Sunoo had left earlier on. That left only Jungwon and you on the field alone at nine twenty seven PM.

The sudden silence was comforting, it allowed Jungwon’s jaw to stop aching from laughing and talking all day. For a few minutes, the both of you sit there staring at the stars, only looking at each other when the other was entranced by the image in the sky.

"I had fun today, thank you." You speak and Jungwon almost flinches, mostly because the sound of your voice has frightened him from the quiet, but also because he wasn't quite sure what you were thanking him for. He should be the one thanking you, shouldn't he?

"What are you thanking me You’re you're the one who invited me out here." You and Jungwon both turn to look at each other, this is the first time you had made eye contact since the two of you were left alone, but it wasn't the first time that you had admired each other, "In fact, I had fun today too, and I’m thanking you for that.”

"Because... I don't know, I just wanted to thank you. You’ve been nothing but kind and helpful to everyone. Last year, we had a problem with someone who came to help. She wouldn't do any work and I was so fatigued everyday trying to save her ass from getting in trouble. This year, you came along and even though you’ve only been here for a few days you’ve helped us so much. You’re like a breathe of fresh air.”

The speech quite literally leaves Jungwon with no words. He looks at you and something has shifted inside of him, and he truly feels like he has a problem now. It’s only been a week or so, and he’s already completely infatuated with you and your glowing personality. He returns a smile, and when your hand slips into his softly, the both of you continue to stare at the stars, just for a little while.

The horse is very big, in fact Jungwon thinks that it might be taller than him, and it's starting him down with it's big brown eyes. He knows that Minnie is used to him now and has actually taken a large liking to him (that's what you had told him, though he doesn't quite understand how you know because all the horses have acted the same), but it still doesn't stop him from being terrified since this is his first time on a horse.

He rolls his eyes when turns around to see you laughing at him, tears in your eyes from the scene taking place in front of you. For some reason, his constant reluctance to get on the horse even though he has wanted a lesson, was absolutely hilarious to you, "Wonnie, come on, you're overreacting. I’ll even help you get on, here."

You had gained a habit over the last two weeks of calling Jungwon 'Wonnie'. now, if anyone else has started giving him this nickname, he would have been fine. Your, and now his friends, had picked up on this habit now and he didn't mind it at all, it was cute. When it was coming from your mouth? He might as well just get on one knee there and then.

"You can't laugh at me for being scared to get on this absolute beast, no offence Minnie. I’ve never been on a horse before!" Jungwon whines and you only ignore him, taking a step forward to help him onto Minnie.

"Here. Put one foot into the stirrup, and then stand on my hand. I’ll give you a boost. I know you're about to complain about getting my hand dirty with your shoes, I can tell you I don't give a shit." With hesitance, he puts his foot into your hands and you push him up onto the horse, and he wobbles a little when he managed to get on.

He’s been on rollercoasters before, he's climbed mountains before, but somehow this feels like it's the highest he's ever been. Maybe it's because there's no belt to keep him protected, or the fact he wasn't on his own two feet, but this was terrifying, "You know what, I’m not too sure about this. how do I get off?"

"Oh Won, stop being a big baby. You’re already up there, look I’m holding the reins. She’s well-trained, she won't move until you or I signal her too. I’ll keep hold until you want me to let go. Hold the reins firmly, sit up straight. When you want Minnie to move, press your heel into her side, but not too hard. I’ll keep hold."

"Okay, okay. This feels mean, this doesn't hurt her right?" You make sure to reassure him that the horse is fine, and after five minutes Minnie is finally moving. Jungwon begins to enjoy it, he no longer fears the height of the horse, "You can let go."

With one last look at Jungwon, no words are spoken when his eyes are filled with certainty on this decision. So, you allow yourself to let go and leave everything else up to Jungwon. The field you are in is small, so it doesn't give Minnie an opportunity to run off, possibly hurting him in the process.

You are quick to learn that Jungwon seems to catch on easily, and within minutes you start to consider getting him in on some equestrian shows (maybe the basic children ones though, he wasn't that good).

"Oh my god, Won are you sure you've never done this before? Most people don't have a horse trotting around so quickly, especially not with this much control. I think you're just lying to me so you can spend more time with me." You hadn't meant any harm in your comment, seeing it as some banter between you and a friend.

In that moment, Jungwon had almost fallen off Minnie as a blush crept onto his cheeks. It wasn't like you had actually caught him in a lie, he had never been on a horse before, but in a way this was an opportunity for him to spend more time with you outside of the work he had agreed to do.

He wasn't sure how long he had been on that horse for, but it was much longer than he had intended, and it was beginning to become irritating just being there. he knew that this particular skill wasn't his forte and he likely wouldn't be attempting to ride a horse again — especially not Minnie, she was too tall.

“I’m simply just good at everything I do, I think you might just be a little jealous.” And for the hundredth time, you roll your eyes at Jungwon.

Officially, Jungwon has been on the farm for just over a month. It’s the middle of June, and unfortunately his friends haven't had the time to travel yet.

Overall, the month had been almost as he had imagined. It was almost the perfect break that he needed. He’d learnt a myriad of new skills, made lots of new friends and was making happy memories everyday.

So, what could possibly bothering him so much that it had ruined his getaway? You.

Realistically, you hadn't intended to do anything wrong, and you hadn't actually done anything wrong. You had just been yourself, and Jungwon’s brain couldn't help but question his true thoughts about you.

Yes, he knows that he had always thought you were pretty, and he though you were an amazing person. That hadn't changed, not at all. What had changed, was that the lingering touches and flirtatious banter was genuinely beginning to bother him.

He had seen you act similar with your friends. You had always argued and flirted with all of them, and it had never bothered him. This was just the way you were, but he couldn't help but notice that there was more longing within him, how everything seemed to last just those few seconds longer.

Though the rest of the group had been oblivious to the lasting tension between the two of you, Sunghoon and Yunjin had been more observant over Jungwon. The two had become so bored of the antics, and we're waiting for you both to explain how you felt.

They had to give one of you a push, and Jungwon seemed to be much less stubborn.

SUNGHOON: hey won! was just wondering if you wanted to go to the diner w me and yunjin

SUNGHOON: everyone else is a little busy but i know today is a free day for you!

JUNGWON: oh yeah for sure

JUNGWON: you don't mind picking me up right? yn usually takes me

SUNGHOON: yeah, course

SUNGHOON: be there soon

In the next hour, Jungwon, Yunjin and Sunghoon sat in the diner with their good and milkshakes. Jungwon seems to notice that something is a little off between the two of them, and his eyebrows furrow when he realises the two of them have been looking between each other while hesitantly attempting to speak, "Why are you both being weird? You haven't even touched your food. What’s going on?"

"We-uh-... I thought this would be a lot easy to say out loud..." Sunghoon trembles over every letter, leaving Yunjin to roll her eyes and poke at her loaded fries with her fork. In this moment, Jungwon starts to think that the two of them are actually together; thought it was quite the opposite.

"We know that you have a crush on YN! You’re so incredibly obvious it hurts that she can't tell. As well as that, we think she definitely has a crush on you too, we’ve known her long enough to tell." Yunjin’s outburst leaves Jungwon and Sunghoon with dropped jaws, but for two entirely different reasons, "And don't even try to act like you don't!"

"Well- no! It’s just that- fine! Yeah, yeah I do really like her. Why are you telling me something I already know?" It’s Jungwon’s time to put his burger down and pretend that it isn't there, because suddenly he didn't have an appetite and the smell of food in the area made him feel like he was about to throw up.

Yunjin and Sunghoon look at each other again. She purses her lips and Sunghoon looks around the room as if he's trying to avoid Jungwon’s eyes that are wide and shocked, "We, we were thinking that we should encourage you to ask her out. We are, like, 99% sure she likes you back."

"And! If she does say no, you'll be living so far away it won't be awkward!" Sunghoon speaks as if that was a good thing, but the drop of Jungwon’s lips and the slap he receives on the back of his head from Yunjin speaks otherwise, "Ouch?! I’m just speaking the truth."

"Your truth is bullshit! He’d still be coming down to see us all anyway! Listen, Won, this is obviously completely up to you, we aren't pushing you to ask her out if you really don't want to- but! We think it would be worth a shot, the rest of the group does too. Have a think about it."

And that's exactly what Jungwon does. He spends the whole day questioning wether this would he right or wrong, wether this would test your friendship or take it to another level.

He makes his decision as you arrive home that he would do it. Though Sunghoon’s words had stung, they had been true. He would be far away if you had rejected him, and it wouldn’t be often that he would he seeing you.

But it ended up to be so much worse than he could have ever imagined.

He waited, waited and waited until you had arrived home. In fact, he’d been pacing around the barn for about half an hour because he wanted to tell you how he felt outside of the house. When he heard what he had thought was your car park up, he almost jumped out of his skin.

He’d peeked out to see what you had been doing in the moment — and his heart felt like it had been crushed by your own hands, the ones that appeared to be slotted into another mans hands.

What made it even worse? You had seen Jungwon in the barn just as this was happening.

The rain felt nice, Jungwon thought it was made for him in the moment. The way it fell down on him made him understand that this was real, and he genuinely believed that he was falling in love with you.

Within the next week, his friends would be turning up, and Jungwon couldn't even bare to look at you because he didn't want to ruin your blooming friendship since he couldn't help but fall for you. In his eyes, he had one week to get over you and be your friend.

Only friends.

He’s been sat in the rain for so long now, that the droplets are beginning to drip down the tip of his nose and his eyelashes. He was sure that when he would stand up, his jeans would be covered in mud. It doesn’t bother him though, because he's got more important things on his mind.

"What am I going to do with you, Wonnie." Your sweet voice appears from behind him, and for a second he believes he is just hearing you in his head. You take a seat next to him, despite the hard rain, and your head falls softly onto his drenched shoulder, "You’re gonna get one hell of a cold if you sit outside moping around."

“I think I have a valid reason to be moping around." He still worried that anything he says will come across as strange, so he holds everything back. His shoulder tingles underneath your head, for once every little touch you place upon him burns.

It hurts, it hurts so much. Yet, even though your touch left invisible scars upon his body in that moment, he would let you burn every inch of skin on his body if that was what you desired. This month had showed him that if there was one person he would let break him down, and it was you.

"You know, I’ve always wanted to dance in the rain." You smile and lift your head to look towards Jungwon, hoping that he would return your gaze. After a loud sigh, he looks at you with his soft eyes, "Will you, Yang Jungwon, take this dance?"

He hopes that you aren't messing around with the way he feels, he hopes that this moment is as real as how he thinks about you. He hopes that the pleasurable sparks that he feels when your hand slips once more into his, feeling so significantly different than usual, that you feel it too.

Oh, how you do.

When the two of you stand up, your hands leave his, but it doesn't leave him in disappointment. They make their way up his arms and find themselves resting around his neck, while his own are nestled on your waist.

"Don’t you think it's a little awkward to dance without music?" He isn't sure why he decided to ruin the moment with such a silly question, maybe the nerves, or the small percentage that you were only doing this to make him feel better rather than to admit your feelings for him.

"I don't find anything to be awkward when I’m with you. never with you, Wonnie. You know, what you saw didn't mean anything. He was dropping me off from a job I was doing, he'd asked me out when we got to the door and what you saw was me telling him that there were no feelings. You know why? because I’ve been waiting for you to stop being so shy about asking me out."

"Oh... well, then. I’m sorry for making assumptions. I’s just spoken to Sunghoon and Yunjin who suggested asking you out, I’d i'd really worked myself up over it. I guess, I was just nervous it was an excuse to not do it. I really, really like you." Due to your open confession, Jungwon feels that he no longer has to hold back. He doesn't have to pretend anymore.

His forehead rests so comfortably on yours, and your left hand falls to rest on his neck rather than around his shoulders. When your nose bumps against his, the rain isn't there anymore. This burning feeling that you had left on his skin only moments ago began to tickle.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?" He speaks, and you only giggle and open your eyes to look up at him through your lashes. You respond, quite boldly, by pressing yourself against him for the first time.

Forever and always.

#enhypen x reader #jungwon x reader #enhypen fluff #jungwon fluff #enhypen fanfic #jungwon fanfic #enhypen oneshot #jungwon oneshot #enhypen ff #jungwon ff #enha x reader #enha fluff #enha oneshot #enha ff

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gyumibear · 1 year

Text

💖 create a sim(p)! — 8: lix’s opinion

synopsis — after stupidly claiming on stream that you’ve been dating popular youtuber choi beomgyu in secret after accidentally creating an identically looking sim, you beg him not to reveal your lie to the public when it goes viral. weirdly, he agrees and you two begin to fool the public. can your lie become the truth or will it eventually catch up with you?

prev / masterlist / next

a/n — gyu and yn have yet to be nice to each other… no warnings except gyu swears like once.

“hey...” you greeted felix with as much enthusiasm as you could muster, but anyone could tell just from listening to your voice that you were upset.

“hey hey, no sadness,” felix’s cute aussie accent flowed through your phone, “don’t think about beomgyu right now. let’s just play some games and hang out.”

opening one of your favorite games, you sent the invite code to him. it wasn’t often that you played games with him over a call, but when you did you two could easily go for hours. it reminded you of the earlier stages of your relationship, way back when you two were freshly dating and did almost everything together. he was the reason you had gotten into streaming, saying your commentary was so funny that you deserved to be an internet personality.

thinking more on your relationship, you still sort of regretting breaking up with him. it wasn’t something you liked to think about because it made you feel really guilty. see, felix was moving back to korea and you were on board with going with him, but then your channel started blowing up. felix offered to stay in california, wanting to make you happy, but you just told him to go. you split up after that, neither of you being able to handle long distance. sometimes you wished you would’ve just went with him...

“what’re you thinking about? you’re quiet.”

“ah... still reeling over beomgyu,” you lied, “sorry... i’m just trying to figure out what to do about him.”

“wanna hear my opinion?”

“of course.”

“now that i’m thinking about it, i’m not really liking the idea of you and him fake dating... for reasons. it was a stupid idea and seeing how he treats you? but i think you guys just got off on the wrong foot. maybe you should ask him if you guys can start over? get a clean slate.”

that made sense to you. you didn’t think beomgyu was actually a bad person, but you were conflicted. he was always so rude to you for no reason! well, maybe he did have a reason... but still, common etiquette! nevertheless, the thought of starting over wasn’t exactly unappealing to you... beomgyu was an internet crush of yours, and maybe you two could actually end up being somewhat friends?

“that’s not a bad idea actually... but we have a problem.”

“and what’s that?”

“he lives in korea, i live here... how are we supposed to convince people of a healthy, working relationship if we’re never seen together?”

“well...” you could hear felix smirking into his phone, “i may have an answer to that...”

“what are you trying to say?”

“let me share my screen…” he fumbled around for a bit before showing you an airline website. “what do you think about bringing soobin and kai on a little vacation?”

#k-labels #kflixnet #kpop smau #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smau #txt smau #txt x reader #beomgyu social media au #choi beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu smau #beomgyu fic #💖 — create a simp

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scribbledghost · 8 months

Text

Thoughts

Pairing: Neighbor!Agent Whiskey x Reader (no y/n)

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1,186

Warnings: Panic, Intrusive thoughts, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, reader has OCD

Notes: If you thought the rest of my fics were niche then hoo boy are you in for a ride. Anyway this fic is 100% wish fulfillment and 100000% For Me, I just decided to share it. :)

(Also: I know this technically isn't the recommended method to help someone who has a reassurance-seeking compulsion but shhhhh let me have this okay I'm Going Through It right now)

Jack’s bleary eyes blink awake at the sound of his ringtone coming from his bedside table. As his eyes and his brain adjust to the waking world, he briefly registers the bright red digital numbers on his clock - it’s two thirty-seven in the morning. He gropes around in the dark and grabs his still-ringing phone, blinking through the offending light when he turns the screen to face him as he thinks something along the lines of someone had better be dyin’.

Your contact stares back at him.

The angry reaction to being woken up leaves him in record time as he answers; it’s not like you to call so late, after all. In fact, it’s not really like you to call at all. Usually if you need him, you send him a message.

He hears your broken breaths and sniffles before you speak, and he’s instantly upright in bed as he calls your name gently through the phone.

“What is it?” he asks. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m - I’m sorry,” you stutter, and now he’s out of bed and grabbing a shirt off the floor as his mind immediately races to the worse case scenario.

“It’s alright, baby,” he soothes, “just tell me what’s goin’ on so I can help you.”

“It’s late,” you continue, and it’s unclear if you even heard him. “You’ve got work tomorrow and you should be asleep and so should I, but-”

“Hey, hey,” he calls to you, letting himself breathe, if only slightly. It seems your earlier apology was for waking him, not for the reason his mind was telling him.

Thank god.

“It’s okay,” he reiterates softly, “it’s alright. None’a that matters right now. Just tell me what’s got you so worked up, an’ I’ll help you.”

“The - the thoughts,” you say, and your voice breaks as you sob, “they won’t stop. I keep trying to get them to go away a-and they won’t. They keep telling me that something’s wrong, that I’m sick, and I can’t make them stop.”

Jack’s pulling on his boots as you continue.

“...I just want them to stop, Jack.”

Your tiny, vulnerable voice breaks his heart.

“I know, baby,” he says, “them thoughts are lyin’ to you. You’re okay. Just stay on the phone with me for a little bit longer, I’m comin’ to you.”

“You - you don’t have to,” you stutter, but he stops you.

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

He’s now grabbed his keys and is out his front door. Thankfully, he lives right next door, so there’s no need for a drive this early in the morning.

“Almost there,” he says as he crosses your yard and steps up your front porch, taking notice of the dim television light coming from your living room window. Suddenly, he’s thankful you left him a spare key when you went on vacation last month.

You must hear the key in the lock, because the other end of the line goes dead just as he opens your front door.

As he locks the door behind him and toes off his boots, he’s acutely aware that he’s clad in pajama pants and yesterday’s shirt. He’s sure he must be a sight.

But then again, so are you.

Jack spots you on the floor atop a small pallet of blankets and pillows. He’s certain you tried to sleep there when you failed to do so in your bed. The television is on a low volume, and he’s too focused on you to pay much mind to what’s on it. You’re curled in on yourself, arms around your knees and your head ducked low as your shoulders shake with tears.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

He makes his way to you, knees creaking in protest as he sits down beside you and pulls you to him. You continue to cry as he tucks your head beneath his chin and quietly soothes you among comforting words.

“It’s alright,” he says softly, registering how your breathing becomes heavier and more disjointed. You always did tend to cry more when he’d comfort you. “It’s okay. Jack’s here. Jack’s gotcha.”

You continue to apologize in between sobs. Apologize for waking him, apologize for calling him over, apologize for apologizing. He stops you at every turn - he won’t have it. The last thing he wants to do right now is have you feel like you’ve inconvenienced him.

“I just wanna be okay.”

His heart breaks all over again.

“Oh, darlin’,” he sighs as he kisses your forehead. “You’ll be okay. Everythin’s gonna be alright. I promise.”

After a few more minutes, the sobs give way to shaky breathing and sniffles. It appears that the worst has passed, but Jack knows it’s still far from over.

“I tried,” you say softly. “I tried to make it by myself. I know calling for reassurance is a compulsion. But I don’t see my therapist for another week, and I haven’t heard back from the psychiatrist yet about changing my medicine, and I just-”

Jack gently shushes you, bringing a hand up to thumb away the few errant tears that have strayed since he last did so a few seconds ago.

“I know ya tried, sweetheart,” he says. “It’s okay. I ain’t ever gonna be mad atcha for callin’ me for help. No matter what time it is or what I got goin’ on. I promise.”

“I’m just… so frustrated,” you reply. “I know they’re intrusive thoughts and the best way to make them go away is to acknowledge it and not give in to the compulsions. But I… I couldn’t…”

“I know, baby,” he soothes. “You’re tryin’, and that’s a big first step. But you gotta remember, this ain’t gonna go away overnight. I know you want it to, but unfortunately that’s just not how this goes. You’re gonna be okay. It just takes time.”

You pause, the quiet television droning on in the background.

“I’m not goin’ nowhere,” he assures you. “I’m here.”

“...Thank you,” you mutter softly as you lean against him.

“Don’t gotta thank me, sugar.”

Another pause.

“...I think I’m tired.”

“You wanna stay here? Or d’ya want me to take you to bed?” Jack asks.

“In here.”

He maneuvers you onto your pallet, pulling your weighted blanket over you as he grabs another from your couch.

“You don’t have to stay here,” you say as he wriggles down next to you on the floor.

“I know.”

“You can take the couch.”

“I know.”

“Your back is gonna hurt tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine, baby.”

The back-and-forth continues for a few more minutes until you seem to tire out just enough to turn to him and curl into his chest.

“...Love you, Jack,” you say quietly. He kisses your head in response.

“I love you, darlin’.”

He’s already made up his mind to call in sick to work tomorrow. He’s sure you’ll fight him on it, and he’s even more sure you’ll fight him when he suggests you do the same. But it’s been a heavy night, and you’ll need the rest.

Either way, he won’t leave you. That, he’s completely certain of.

#neighbor whiskey #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #ghost scribbles #neighbor au

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total-drama-takes-takes-2 · 4 months

Text

aftermath 2

A dark blue, fish-eyed globe turns itself across the screen, starting in Canada and traveling eastwards around the world. Five words flash over the globe: TOTAL - TAKES - WORLD - TOUR - AFTERMATH!

A static flash to Wales, on the countryside.

---

Julia hangs at the back of the group, watching the two up front. Mal darts into frame for a moment, running around her ankles and barking before circling the group once again.

The sound of laughter and sheep appears from behind the team and Julia turns a bit to catch a glimpse of Team Mojo following them up the crest, sheep in line and following Sha-Mod and Patrick in the front.

The latter grins and waves as they pass by. “See you at the finish line, sweetie!”

Julia grimaces, but waits til the team disappears up ahead to make comment.

“I hate that guy,”

---

Then to Australia, in the rainforest:

---

It’s dark.

The sound of bugs flying, mammals chittering, and birds crying out fills the empty air.

Slowly, Sha-Mod awakes. He groans and sits up, scratching his head with his back to the camera. “Owie,” he says.

Then, it’s bright. Too bright.

“Wait,” he grabs at his face. The feeling of warm flesh fills the void where smooth paper should be. Sha-Mod looks to the ground and sees the mulchy, emulsified remains of Lighting crumbled on the ground. “Oh, no. Oh no. This isn’t good.”

---

The Title Card flashes again and fades into a pink, warm-lit studio. Unlike last season’s aftermath, this peanut gallery is sparse and empty. O picks at his nails absent-mindedly, Alistair waves and flashes a pearly grin, Scary is holding a large book over their face and avoiding the glare of the cameras as they zoom in. Beneath them, the so-far eliminated contestants who bothered to show- Joner and Scruffy.

But no one directs the attention of both the cameras and the audience like the navy-blue haired, sharply dressed pastel puff standing in the center of the stage. Caesar waves at the adoring crowd, soaking in the attention like a flower takes in the sun. And by the looks of it, he needs the vitamin D- he’s rather pale and tired-looking for someone of his sunny disposition. Behind him, on the pink couch in the center of the stage, a moody-looking teenage boy is on his phone, leaning back against the sofa with his legs kicked up. He pulls a wad of chewed gum out of his mouth and wipes it on the couch. Caesar cringes.

“Welcome one, welcome all, to another riveting episode of Total Takes World Tour: The Aftermath! I’m your host, Caesar, and behind me is my… unique co-host. Noco,” he seems to go tense at the name, as if a shiver is running up his spine. “We have a very special episode for you today, folks, so stay tuned for drama, drama, and more drama!”

“Whoop-dee-doo,” Noco says unenthusiastically, twirling his finger in a little circle. Caesar grits his teeth.

“Joining us today are our charming peanut gallery- O, Alistair- formerly known as Fren- Scary, Joner, Scruffy, and- hm. McLovin?” Caesar looks around the stage. “Has anyone seen McLovin?”

“McLovin is busy preparing this super secret awesome surprise for the fundraiser!” Joner chimes in. “I’m the lookout- I mean! He’s busy! Aw, man…”

Scruffy pats his shoulder. “You did your best,”

“Ahem, well… speaking of the fundraiser, this isn’t just any episode of Aftermath… today, we’re sending out an S.O.S. for our stranded friends,” Caesar says, pacing the stage. He speaks in long, dramatic drawls. “Stuck on a remote island in the middle of the Atlantic, not a penny to be spared.”

The peanut gallery sighs, and the audience aw’s.

“Oh, can we cut the crap?” Noco yawns and sits up, turning on the monitor behind him to a live broadcast on St. Helena. The World Tour contestants are lounging on the beaches, enjoying provisions from first class, and playing tag in the fields. Chris and Chef toast to a much-needed vacation in their inflatable pool.

Caesar rushes over and flicks off the screen. “Like I said- tragic!”

“Listen, folks…” Noco says, standing in front of Caesar. “This whole episode is nothing but corporate pressure from the big wigs upstairs. The producers are too cheap to pay it out of their own fat pockets, and now they’re scamming us into believing that the cast is dying in some desert.”

“They’re stranded on an island. Together! I couldn’t imagine a worse fate. And Bonnie is all alone…” the host looks down warily, fidgeting with his bow tie.

“Oh, please. A break from the script is a paradise. I would be relieved to know the charade is over. Max and Julia-”

Caesar begrudgingly pulls a small remote from his coat and presses the large red button on its surface. An extremely loud incorrect buzzer paralyzes the audience for a split-second. Noco falls backwards.

“Alright, enough of that. Now, with your help, we can raise the necessary funds to save our stranded friends. Donate by calling the number below, or send your checks to the Aftermath Inbox,” Caesar says, pointing as a graphic flashes across the bottom of the screen.

Across the stage, the peanut gallery pulls out landlines from under their seats. O gives Caesar a thumbs-up.

“For our first telethon act, we have the one, the only: Takes Three Trio!” Caesar announces, backing away from the center of the stage as the lights dim.

A single spotlight illuminates three figures in matching tracksuits. Sha-Mod, in blue, stands on the far left, nodding solemnly. Joner, in green, mirrors him on the right, staring up at the ceiling. McLovin, in pink, takes center stage. A single tear rolls down his cheek.

Caesar mumbles “Oh, brother,” as a beat begins playing.

Joner starts. “Our friends, you need to save- our friends, you gotta tell, our friends- that you care!”

Sha-Mod picks up. “St. Helena, they’re trapped down in: St. Helena. They can’t even- Sha-Party. It’s so unfair!”

“You gotta help now, they’re on the brink,” McLovin vocalizes. “The crew gets fired, if this ship sinks!”

“So make a difference- in their lives!” Joner says.

All three harmonize on the next line. “Empty your wallets or they all die,”

Caesar cringes as Sha-Mod picks up from there. “Saaaaave this show! Total Takes!”

“Saaaaaaaaaave this show! Don’t let them escape!” McLovin sings.

“Save the show that you love!” the three harmonzie again.

A tear rolls down Joner’s cheek. “Saaave this show- Total Takes!”

“Saaaave this show- don’t forsake- Them,” McLovin continues awkwardly.

“Save our friends with love… and one-hundred thousand dollars!”

Sha-Mod flips on a pair of sunglasses. “Save the show, baby. Send us your money. Please. Send us money,”

The lights turn back on and Caesar clears his throat. “That was… um, grim?”

“Thank you!” McLovin beams.

“Oookay. Speaking of the Takes Three Trio, Sha-Mod: as the first booted contestant since the last Aftermath, would you do the honors of announcing our prizes?”

Sha-Mod pulls out a card and clears his throat. “For a donation of $25, you’ll get a, um… does this say a lock of hair from the contestant of your choosing?”

“Okay!” Caesar laughs, nabbing the cards from his hands. He leans into Noco. “I thought we agreed no body parts!”

“Do you want donations or not?”

Caesar thinks for a moment and then grumbles to himself. “And for a donation of $50, you’ll get a commemorative DVD copy of the first season of Total Takes Island!” The audience cheers. “For one hundred, you’ll get a personal shoutout on the Total Takes official blog!”

The audience whoops and hollers again. Scary peers over the edge of her book and rolls his eyes.

“And for the low, low donation of $5, you’ll get… a signed folder of proof that Total Takes is scripted?” Caesar squints at the cue card. “ISAAC!”

The gloomy boy grins and shrugs. “I figured someone would bite. I mean, hey- the proof is in the pudding,”

O leans into Alistair. “I hate when he smiles. It scares me,”

The pink-haired actor nods in agreement.

Caesar glares. “Fine. Whatever! For the price of $200, you’ll get a blind date with none other than our beloathed co-host, Noco!”

Noco’s smile drops. “Huh?”

The phones begin ringing off the hook, filling the air with the sharp sound of bells. Caesar scoffs. “Imagine that,”

“To be fair, the dark and mysterious “bad boy” look is really popular,” Scruffy says, matter-of-factly. “Noco is really popular in my superfan Discord server.”

The host rolls his eyes. Peter stands suddenly, clutching the landline receiver in his sweaty palms. “Um, I have about six different people with $200 donations. What do I do?”

“Yeah, we’re out of hold space here, man!” O yells.

“Then it’s a bidding war! Starting price, $200!”

“You-you can’t do that-! I hate romance! I hate happiness! No one should want to “date” me!” Noco interjects, shoving a finger in Caesar’s face. He swats it away.

“Tough luck. Let’s see those numbers!”

The monitor drops from the ceiling again and crackles to life, displaying a whirl of flashing numbers, climbing up to the thousands faster than they can count. Noco shrivels like a grape in the sun.

“While the fans battle it out, let’s have another special guest on stage to boost these numbers. You may know him as the Princess of Total Takes- or the dunce! Ladies and gentlemen, Patrick!”

Patrick walks out on stage, stiff and unhappy. He glares sharply at Caesar before taking a seat, his legs neatly crossed.

“Welcome to the show, Patrick, we’re glad to have you. Can I offer you something? Water? Tea? First aid?”

The audience laughs and Patrick scoffs.

“Whatever,”

Caesar clears his throat and winks at the audience, who laughs in turn. “So, you’ve had quite the rough season, haven’t you?”

“As if. I was just getting warmed up, and they gave me the boot! They don’t know what they’re missing- Team Mojo just lost its most valuable player!” Patrick snaps, holding out a petite porcelain teacup for an intern to fill with warm water. “Those two kittens won’t last a day without me, I- honey, not sugar. I’m watching my complexion- I’m unexpendable! It should’ve been that cupcake, Albert.”

The audience Ooh’s. Caesar chuckles. “Yes, yes- word on the street is that you two weren’t the best of friends. And yet you never rigged the votes to get him kicked from the game?”

Patrick raises an eyebrow. “Rigged the votes? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you know, you… you rigged the votes in season one, and you rigged them to get Sha-Mod booted…”

The camera pans over to the Takes Three Trio, who all shake their heads in a disapproving fashion. Patrick takes a long sip from his teacup.

“Listen, Bluebell, I don’t know who you’re getting your info from, but I didn’t do any “rigging”. A guy like me doesn’t have to play dirty- if everyone knows what’s best for them, they stay outta my way!”

Caesar raises an eyebrow. “Wait, so… you didn’t rig the votes against Fren in Island?”

“Who is Fren?”

“My, my… with the irrefutable evidence of tampering, this means there’s an entirely different- possibly two different traitors in our midsts!” the host says, prompting the audience and peanut gallery (nix Scary) to gasp. “Scruffy- our resident TD expert- any thoughts?”

Scruffy scratches their chin, looking around for a few moments. “I can’t believe I never considered… I suppose I was just so caught up with Jules…”

“Don’t remind me,” Patrick grumbles, delicately holding his cup.

“Oh, speaking of which…” Caesar says, checking his watch. “It’s time for our next segment- Who Dumped Who? And make sure to keep those donations rolling in!”

The monitor lowers again, turning on and focusing on the image of Patrick and Julia through a restaurant window. The audio is unintelligible, but within seconds, she’s throwing a fistful of spaghetti at his face.

A faint ding sounds. “That’s one breakup for Julia!”

Another scene starts, this time of the two smiling awkwardly for a fan picture on the street. The fangirl snaps a selfie with them and walks away, and the two immediately burst into an argument. Patrick shouts something indistinct and storms off (into oncoming traffic, where he’s hit by a bus).

“That’s one for Patrick!”

Another segment plays, this time of the two in the peanut gallery in the aftermath studio, already bickering about something while Ass and Courtney cover their ears from the row beneath them. Julia shoves Patrick off the benches and he falls into the audience with a shriek.

“Another for Julia!”

Before the next clip can play, the sound of revving pulls everyone’s attention to the side of the studio. Caesar raises an eyebrow. “Um, what’s-”

Two massive ramps have been set up on either side of the room. McLovin is on the left, revving a motorcycle. He’s dressed in a white suit with a matching helmet. Caesar’s jaw drops.

“See? Surprise!” Joner says.

“If I die, everyone has to donate double!” McLovin shouts, flipping his visor down.

“Wait- WAIT!” Caesar shouts. But it’s too late.

McLovin speeds off, climbing one of the ramps at a speed faster than the cameras can capture and flying through the air.

It lasts all of two seconds before he smacks into a ceiling tile and falls dead-center in the stage. Drywall showers on him like rain made out of asbestos and chunks of roof.

Caesar stares. The audience falls silent.

He turns to the counter on the monitor. The numbers are still for a moment- and then shoot up. The host sighs with relief, and the audience cheers.

Sha-Mod and Joner rush over and help McLovin out of the rubble while he grins.

“Awesome,” he says. A tooth falls out of his mouth.

Caesar wipes the sweat off his forehead and sits back on the couch. The lights overhead flicker and some more drywall dust falls from the ceiling. He swipes it off his shoulder.

“Why so tense? You’re not the one going on a date with some happy-go-lucky rando!” Noco snaps. Caesar ignores him. “Ohhh, I see. Now this I can get behind.”

Noco stands, grinning. “Feeling miserable? Helpless? I’m your guy! For a donation of $1000, I’ll psychologically torture the cast member of your choice! Cough, cough- CAESAR!”

The phones begin ringing again, and the tally counter soars. Noco grins maliciously.

“Now, I’m no theracologist or whatever,” he says, gesturing towards O, who glares. “But if I had to guess, I’d say Bonnie being stuck in that terrible place all by themselves is really bothering you, right? Knowing that they’re all alone? Even worse- that they’re being singled out and picked on because of your relationship?”

Caesar shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know what you’re-”

“Don’t play dumb!” Noco scoffs. “This whole control freak thing is just you making up for how helpless you feel. You’re positively miserable! This is great!”

He claps his hands quickly and squeals. Caesar glares at him. The tally counter rises, and rises, until a loud siren blares.

“And with that, it looks like we’ve reached our goal,” the host announces. “Time to see who bid the highest for a beautiful, romantic, sweet, and ENDEARING evening with Noco!”

Noco’s smile drops and he goes pale again. “There’s… no way anyone actually-”

“At a bidding price of $60,000, Noco will be going on a date with… Becky from Vancouver!” Caesar reads off the monitor, a smile creeping back on his face. “Let’s get Becky on call!”

The screen crackles to life and focuses on the image of a pretty girl in a pink outfit with a blonde ponytail. She squeals, clutching a unicorn plush in her lap. “OMG! I won! My Daddy is like, never going to forgive me for maxxing his credit card, but it’s worth it!” she screeches. Noco looks sick. “Ohmigosh, Noco looks JUST like my favorite Twilight character, I can’t wait! EEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Caesar grins widely as Noco scampers away, a few security guards close behind him.

“That’s enough of that,” the host says. “And it looks like we’ve hit our quota just in time, too! That’s all for today, folks- catch Total Takes: World Tour on your nearest TV soon! Good night, everyone!”

#total takes world tour #aftermath

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chronicsymptomsyndrome · 24 days

Text

Extended rant about being poor and disabled under the cut, not really worth reading I just needed to get it out.

Hope everyone’s having a decent day

Listen I’m disabled unemployable massively in debt and have exactly $0 in liquid funds and no sizable assets. Unless you count physical assets. Like I could sell my body I guess. Ugh. Anyway throwback to that one time like an hour ago when I at least had a iPad to use. It was from 2013 so I knew this day would come. Can’t believe it lasted this long. And I know I should be extremely grateful to even have a smartphone, but I cannot use my phone as a computer the way most people do. I cannot hold onto my phone that long. I can’t look at such a tiny screen that long. I can’t crane my neck down for that long. I can hold it up level to my eyes but I can’t hold my arm up that long either. It’s not practical or sustainable. Plus my smart phone won’t last forever. Then what will I do? Without access to the internet? Yeah yeah touch grass nobody had internet for millennia blah blah blah okay but now we do. Now it’s a basic necessity. You need internet to do pretty much anything adults need to do nowadays in order to be an active part of society. I agree it’s fucked up but it’s real. I cannot get to a library. I don’t have friends in walking distance (or any distance for that matter) I have no access to using the internet for more than a couple minutes at a time. Im writing this post in segments over the course of a whole day. I keep coming back to it because I can’t think about anything else. I legitimately don’t know how to remedy this situation.

Not that this is a remedy but I want to inflict suffering onto anyone that’s ever said money only causes problems or doesn’t buy happiness or the best things in life are free or any of that classist bullshit. Two hundred dollars is pocket change to so many people but a little refurbished tablet would change my life right now. I hope every billionaire lives long but suffers endlessly and unfathomably until they die.

Also I hope my dad and his wife are really enjoying their fully refurbished three story three bedroom two bathroom home complete with a sunroom a heated deck/screen porch (yes different from the sunroom) heated floors in every room a garage big enough for their two brand new cars a little Vespa & a whole workshop plus a cute little stone patio with a fucking water feature pond fountain thing that they don’t even see that much what with their practically monthly elaborate getaways and international vacations every year. Fuck I hope they are really fucking enjoying themselves. Meanwhile I have to decide if I want to cut back on food and medicine for a while to save up for a device I can access the internet on.

Anyway. Ignore this I’m just really fucking tired, sooooooo unbelievably fucking tired, of being poor and disabled. Big fucking deal I know I’m so far from the only one. I know I still have so much that some people don’t have. And I’m grateful. But…fucking hell. Poor and healthy would be fine. Poor and disabled but still employable would be fine. Disabled but financially stable would be fine. Disabled with adequate support systems would be fine. My piece of shit grandfather finally fucking off and dying and leaving me something to live on would be cool. I’d kill for any of these. But poor and disabled just feels like someone is beating the fuck out of me and every few minutes they stop for just long enough to help me up and let ms pull myself together and there’s a momentary glimmer of hope until they go right back to beating the fuck out of me. I feel like eventually I won’t be able to get up or pull myself together anymore. I don’t fucking know.

Anyway at least I have a place to stay!! At least I have something to eat!! I can make tea if I want!! My eyesight is going slowly enough that my glasses are still usable!! The fact that I even have glasses in the first place!! The fact that I have any clean water at all, even if it only stays hot for three minutes. I can still take a shower. I have books to read. There a lot of ways in which my body and mind have not yet let me down. Honestly how dare I complain about anything I guess??? I don’t fucking know how I’m supposed to feel

#rants & reflections #delete later #disability vent #disability rant #executive dysfunction #audhd problems #physical disability #neurological disability #autistic borderline #bpd mood #disability culture

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darkwaveho · 2 years

Note

Since damage control lives in my head rent free, I was wondering if there was a scenario where R would switch off? Like she stays but emotionally distances herself because she can never trust Nat again. And if Nat initially never realises something was off but eventually does and has to win R back?

Damage control

Starry Night

Summary: After coming down from cloud nine you find yourself crashing hard and being held hostage in the darkness. Can Natasha pull you out?

Parings: Mob!Natasha Romanoff x reader

warnings:18+, hurt-comfort, angst, fluff, soft!nat, insecurities, mentions of murder, suggestive themes, cursing, alludes to depression, mentions of infidelity, Shitty parenting, brief discussion on body image.

A/n: I decided to make this part of the main story because this would definitely happen to y/n after coming back home from the vacation trip. So this is basically part 4 since I’m not done with part 3. Some reassurance and fluff for the psycho lesbians <3

SeriesMasterlist

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

her office door slams open with rage. she doesn’t even get to scold her sister for it when she’s cut off from being able to speak one word. “You broke her!” natasha pinches her brows not knowing what the hell her sister was talking about. “What the hell are you going on about now?” Natasha looks up from her computer screen. “I’m talking about my friend, my best friend. you broke her. she’s broken and you need to fix it dammit.” she ends her rant by throwing one of natasha’s glass figurines against the wall.

Natasha slams her hands on the desk and pushes her chair out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you and y/n need to get a fucking grip with throwing things in my fucking office!” she huffs. “And besides there isn’t anything wrong with her, she’s fine. maybe she’s just tired of you.” yelena scuffs and bangs her fist on the desk. “Are you that fucking dense? go home and take a good look at her, she isn’t in there anymore nat, and it’s your fault! so fix it!” she storms out of the office leaving Natasha to her own thoughts. she goes back through her mind trying to spot something, anything that showed signs of you mentally slipping away from her and reality in itself. if she knew then that one mistake would still have her paying for it, she would’ve steered clear of tony and is damn club all together. even after taking you on the trip and making it up to you she was still paying for it and facing the consequences of her actions. it’s clear now that she wouldn’t be getting any work done now that she had the pondering question of your health. mentally and physically. she packs everything up and tells clint to have her car ready. she was going back home.

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

Natasha enters the house she got up at the crack of dawn today dealing with a situation at her bar. she expected to see you on the couch in your usual spot, but you weren’t there. she makes her way up the stairs and slowly creeps towards the bedroom door. it’s slightly cracked and what she sees on the other side of the door is enough for her to crumble and breakdown. you were standing in front of the mirror inspecting your body more so than checking yourself out. you pick up your phone. when the voice on the other end of the phone confirms an appointment, she grows curious. she doesn’t enter the room yet. you hang up the phone and enter the bathroom. she waits for you to start running the water. when she finally moves into the room she goes straight for your phone. she doesn’t recognize the number but when she calls it back that was confirmation of what she suspected.

Natasha enters the bathroom to find you in a relaxed bubble bath. she kneels beside you. “Hey, sweet face.” natasha searches for your eyes and she comes up empty. she tries again to make conversation. “Taking a bubble bath, I see. anything I can do to make your day better?” once again nothing. “What’s going on with you? I’m worried about you.” she grabs the towel and lightly scrubs the back of your neck. no emotion is present on your face right now, you just blankly stare out into the open or your settle on keeping your focus on the bubbles. she gently turns your face towards her. “Talk to me, please.” it takes you moment to actually speak but she waits patiently.

"Why'd you, do it?" the tears that welled up in your eyes breaks Natasha's heart. she doesn’t need further details on what you’re talking about. it might have only happened months ago, but you were still dealing with the pain she caused. her hand slightly shakes as it nears your face to wipe those shed tears away. "I was being an idiot, I-" you didn’t let her finish the next question burned a hole into your brain constantly.

"Did you think she was prettier than me?" Natasha shakes her head no. “No, baby, and you don’t need to change anything about yourself. you’re perfect. you don’t need to have anything done to your face or your body.” you were shocked for a moment. she found out about you making an appointment for cosmetic surgery. you thought if you got some of the thing’s Amber had done maybe then Natasha wouldn’t be tempted to have sex with anyone else. she’s never cheated on you before so clearly; she liked what she saw on Amber right? "Well, If I’m so fucking perfect why did you cheat on me?”

“I just remember things taking a long time with the contract, and Amb-” the death glare you give her from mentioning the name is enough to shut her up and rephrase her sentence. ��She was being really persistent.” you didn’t really want her going into details about that night. “I still don’t see why you did what you did.”

“I don’t know, out of boredom? convenience and I guess I was curious.” that gets you to perk up a bit sitting up straight in the tub. “Curious? about what?”

“Her title I guess.”

“You guess? Nat don’t bullshit me.”

“Okay, part of me wanted to know what all the fuss was about her.”

“And?” she leans further against the edge of the tub. “And It wasn’t worth it for obvious reasons, and It was a waste of time.” you hum at her confession, even after she’s told you that you can’t help but think she’s lying. so, you still ask the pondering question you had burning in the back of your mind. “Was she better at sex than me?"

"No, sweet face, no one can ever compare to you." you turn your face away from her as your lips quiver. “I’m telling you that what I did was stupid and that If I could take it back I would. It wasn’t worth it; the lousy fuck wasn’t worth losing you.” she takes a steady breath. “It didn’t last long. I-” she gets cut off when the impact of the water splashes her face and when your hand connects with her face. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” you were seconds away from breaking down completely. you quickly turn away from her again, focusing on the bubbles once again. you didn't get the chance to release your emotions in this way. the way you handled things that day was completely raged filled and rightfully so, but you refused to do so in front of her no matter how bad you needed a good cry.

when the shock fades from her face and she sees you trying to shut down on her again she speaks. "Can you look at me please?" she rubs her thumb gently across your jawline. "I can't, how can I ever trust you again? for all I know everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie." you chuckle humorlessly. "Hell, you probably don't even love me like you said you did."

"Hey! That was not a lie. I do." she takes a moment to steady her breathing. "it's taken this long for me to say it. if it weren't true, I would've said it years ago just to tell you what you wanted to hear."

"Yeah, and you only said it because you were about to lose me. if I wouldn't have found out, would you have said it sooner?" you finally get the strength to look at her again. she swallows harshly no doubt to keep her voice clear of any strain. "I don't know." she answers truthfully, you expected her to lie and say yes just because that was the logical answer to shut you up. you hum at her response and stand from the bath drying yourself off and stepping out. she stands and waits for you to say something, anything. you continue on with your nightly routine as she watches you. she waits, standing near the tub until you walk out without giving her a glance as if nothing just happened. you flipped your switch back off. Natasha sighs as she continues to watch you from the doorway of the bathroom.

having the heart-to-heart discussion was not going to work. talking about this was not going to work. she needs to prove her loyalty to you with actions. When you both lay in bed together. The night carry’s on in silence. She can hold you, but she still wouldn’t be holding her ‘sweet face’. this was an empty shell lying next to her and she hated it. She hated how she drained you of all your charisma and light. She’s the reason for your lack of confidence and why you’re so insecure about yourself now.

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

Natasha takes the next step to take a step back from work. she gave everyone a task. Yelena could handle the business with her bar and her construction company while Clint and bucky handle the dirty work. she needed to be home with you even if you didn’t acknowledge her, she tried just being in close proximity as you. you just kept pulling away from her even more, so she decided to give you some space for a while. she hides out in her office any other time she did this would have you barging in here demanding she give you attention and spend some quality time with you. Oh, how she wishes you would barge in now more than ever.

A few days go by you finally get the urge to go for a walk getting some fresh air. when you come back from your long walk Nora welcomes you and tells you to meet Natasha upstairs on the balcony. you don’t know what’s going on, but you need a shower. you hated smelling like outdoors. “I’ll be there after my shower.” you nod to Nora, and she mirrors the nod and walks away. you quickly make it to your room and shower off the dreadful day. you don’t know what she has planned or if she has anything planned really but you decide to lightly apply some makeup. walking out of the bathroom you find clothes laid out on the bed for you. lounge around wear. not what you were expecting but you put on the comfortable sweatshirt and put your slippers on. you open the door to the balcony connecting to your room and find natasha sitting at a table with a lit candle and food trays.

“Hey” you look around at everything she has laying around. she stands and moves to stand in front of you. “Thank you for coming.” you nod your head still not saying anything. she guides you over to the table. you both sit down in silence.

“You went out for a while, I know you must be starving so, I got you.” she lifts the metal tray up revealing what was underneath. you smile to yourself once again being caught off guard she was really shaking things up today. “Pizza?”

“Mmhm”

“We’re having a candlelight pizza dinner?” You can’t remember the last time you Natasha had something this greasy and unhealthy. Back then you preferred take-out food over the gourmet meals but as Natasha slowly progressed into the boss, she is today the meals did as well. She always wanted the luxury lifestyle. Yes, you were born into money but even then, you would tell your father to order a pizza instead of the steak and lobster your personal chef had on the menu.

“Yup” she makes a pop sound at the end of the word. “With soda” she pulls the cooler closer to the table and takes out a cold soda. “Are you okay with that?” she anxiously watches you. “Yes.” you on about telling her what’s been happening with the bar and how Carol Danvers tried to low ball her for one of her properties. she does all the talking just catching you up with everything since you’ve been cooped up in this house. when all that’s left is the pizza crust and the soda cans are empty. Natasha pulls her chair closer to yours and places a folder and some binoculars onto the table. she hands you the folder.

“Open it.” she says while nibbling on her lip. you open the folder, your eyes roaming the documents inside of it. your eyes snap back up from the page to meet hers.

“You bought me a star?”

“No, I bought you stars, plural. and I would buy you all the stars in this world if it proved to you how much I care about you.” You smile through tears and giggle. “You’re so corny baby.” She playfully rolls her eyes. “Great you’re insulting my display of showing emotions and affection.” You get up from your chair sitting on her lap and grab her face. “I never said it was a bad thing, I think you should show it more often.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm” you bite your lip to contain the wide smile. Natasha doesn’t approve not after she’s been without it for weeks. She places her thumb on your bottom lip and drags it down causing you to release the hold you had on it. “Don’t do that, I want to see your smile.” you replace your soft and gentle smile with a wide psychotic one. she laughs at your silly expression. “Stop being a creep, weirdo.” she grabs the binoculars and hands it to you. “Here, take a look at your stars” seeing you smile again gave her some relief that you hadn’t completely slipped away. “Do you like them?”

“Yes, I like them a lot, Tash.” you pull away from the binoculars to look at your girlfriend. this time when you stare at her she can see your light reigniting. this cute little comfy date was nice but those wandering thoughts still plagued your mind. you still needed reassurance.

“You love me?” You turn serious and tilt your head waiting on her answer. “I do” she holds you tighter and pulls you closer to her as if you would slip away from her. “How much?”

“Enough to buy you stars.”

“Is that it?” you raise a brow and scuff lightly. you wanted more than that, she could’ve bought you this at any time you wanted to hear how much you meant to her. you wanted to feel what Natasha has always keep under wraps even when it came to you. you wanted her to be emotional and completely vulnerable.

“Let me finish buttercup”

“Continue.”

“So much that it scares me even after all these years, it scares me to love you and one day to not have you whether that’s you leaving me or” she pauses, and you know what she means this was a dangerous life you know. You were up close and personal with the dead body of your father staring back at you. So, you know what she’s talking about. You know what she’s feeling. “I love you so much that I put my pride aside to do this.” She slides her phone across the table. you peek at the screen. “You called my mom?” She nods. “What did she say?” Natasha gives you a look of regret. And you don’t have to push further to know that the conversation didn’t go well. How could it? Your mother hated Natasha guts and eventually she had a hatred for you as well. Cutting all ties and communication with you, she no longer viewed you as her daughter. You were dead to her.

“I asked her if she would meet up with me to surprise you or something. I don’t know, I was going to come up with something better but like expected she shut me down. told me to fuck off and that she hoped that I suffer a slow and painful death.” It took everything in Natasha not to put a hit out on your mom out of respect for you she left it alone but if you ever gave her the go ahead or if your mom ever broke you down beyond repair, she would deal with her. with no hesitation.

“Did she say anything about me? did she ask about me?” natasha softly exhales and twists her lip in sorrow. “She still hates me huh?” You sniffle as tears fall down your cheeks. “Thank you for trying I know that wasn’t easy.”

“For you, I would do it again.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I love you.” She says it with more confidence this time, there is no questioning if she’s being genuine. “I love you too.”

“There’s more.” you were taken aback. she had more? chuckling at your curious expression natasha pecks your lips a few times before she plasters a serious face. “I want you to be more included in things.”

“What are you talking about? natasha I’m not interested in getting my hands dirty....unless necessary you know that.”

“Yes, I know. but you just have Tony’s club sitting there. I know you only bought it to get back at me, but I think you should revamp it and run it like the badass I know you are. Plus, the business owner look is a turn on.” you ponder on everything she was saying. “Think about it you can have your own office, run the club how you want to run it. hire whoever you want. I already have a few people lined up for interviews as well as some bartenders and servers. It’s up to you who actually gets the job. ”

“Hmm that does sound nice.” you hum in agreement with her. you could see the vision she was talking about. “Yeah, and I can come to your workplace unannounced and annoy you. ya know throw shit at your office wall for a change.” she smirks up at you. you wrap your arms around her neck pulling her closer. “I’ll have security throw you out on your ass.” natasha only laughs and rubs your back tenderly. “See you don’t even have any security yet and you’re already thinking like a boss.” you lean forward kissing her lips. “Can we go back to looking at my stars.” you make a move to turn around, but she holds you in place.

“I have something else to show you.” what else could she possibly have for you? “Okay.” you nod you head.

“I bought this.” she shows you the chrome watch on her wrist. you didn’t see how this watch was going to benefit you, you and nat had different tastes when it came to fashion style. “What am I going to do with a watch nat?”

“It’s not for you, well it is but-” she rubs her temples this was much smoother in her head when she practiced it. “It’s a tracking device inside the watch, you’ll know where I am at all times. I’ll wear it forever or however long it takes for you to trust me on your own, confidently.” she slowly places the tracking monitor into the palm of your hand.

“What happens if you lose it or if someone steals it?” She hums. “Always thinking ahead aren’t you sweet face? I have a backup of course.” She extends her arm showing you the small incision. And places another monitor in your hand. “Are you insane?” You say while your fingers trace the area of her tracking device. She only chuckles and responds with a sarcastic. “Duh.” you almost knock the wind out of her when you launch forward to bring her into a warm embrace. she returns the hug instantly.

“Before we get carried away, I have one last thing for you, I promise this is the last thing I have for tonight.” you nod, and she reaches for her phone and swipes a few times on her screen before she hands you the phone. the tears spring to your eyes immediately after the shock wears off. “You bought the house?”

“I did.” she confirms. she expected you be emotional, but she didn’t expect you to breakdown like this. after your father died the one thing you wanted to have but couldn’t was the house. the childhood mansion you grew up in was it a weird thing to want after he was murdered in that same house? yes, but be honest there was nothing normal about you and you really just wanted the happy memories to be with you. it was ultimately up to your mother and her being the bitch that she is used that as a way to get back at you for disregarding her wishes and concerns about your relationship with natasha. so, she sold the mansion. left you without a penny of the money and left you without a home.

Natasha was still under Alexei’s wing she didn’t have the money to buy the house and she damn sure wasn’t going to ask Alexei for the money. he wouldn’t have given it to her if he had it anyway. being another person who didn’t approve of the relationship but for a much different reason than your mother. Natasha watches you as you stare at the screen blankly, maybe she shouldn’t have done this. she reaches out to touch you and you shrug her off. “Did you not want this anymore?”

“Yes, I still want this, but what’s going to happen to this house?”

“I’m putting it up on the market.”

“But this was like your first step to having freedom from Alexei…why are you giving it up?”

“Because this house isn’t a staple in my freedom from him, I’ll always have that, and I don’t need this house as proof. but there is only one you and I know how much that house means to you. and much like your love for that house is irreplaceable. you’re irreplaceable to me.”

“I’m gonna look like shit now thanks to you with all these gifts and simpy ass words.” you annoyingly wipe at your face. your makeup was ruined after you spent much time working on it. “You never look like shit. not even what you call your ‘worst day’.” She cups both of your cheeks softly rubbing her thumbs against your skin.

“Simp.” is all you say in response to tease her and to deflect from the emotional moment. “For you? I’ll gladly wear that title.” you share a soft gentle kiss. “I meant it when I said I was sorry for hurting you and that I’ll never do it again.” you can see how much effort she put into regaining your trust and just showing you how much she loved you. “Thank you for making it up to me, especially with my dad’s house.”

“I wish I would’ve given it to you under better circumstances.” you find yourself in a staring contest until you yelp when she stands from the chair with your legs hugging her waist. she places you on your back on the lounge chair. hovering above you all you can see on her face is adoration. you haven’t seen this since the very first time you two shared together. you missed it.

“Nat, what are you doing?” you thought she was going to do something silly to lighten the mood but that’s not what you got in return. there was a softness to her now. she was ready to be vulnerable with you. “I want you to look at your stars while I finish showing you how much I love you.” her hand slides under the oversized sweatshirt until her fingertips meet the trim of your panties. you swallow nervously as you wait in anticipation. she’s never done anything this smitten before, never given you anything this thoughtful before.

“Okay.” your response comes out breathless. she fully removes your panties not wanting the fabric to get in the way of her mission. her breath warm on the skin of your neck. “I want your eyes on those bright lights.” all of her movements are slow and tender, not like what you’ve experienced with her in the past few years. again, there was only one other time she was this soft and affectionate. that first night together. somehow this was similar but much different in tone. Natasha wanted to make love to you. “I want you to see” she angles your head to properly face the sky. “and to feel” you gasp as she pushes her digits further into you. “just how deep my love is for you.” and that was exactly what you did as she muttered apologies and ‘I love you’s’ in your ear until the sun came up.

#natasha romanoff x reader #mob!natsha romanoff x reader #damage control au #mob!nat #natasha romanoff fluff

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gaypeople4itzy · 1 year

Text

Long distance surprise

With itzy's Yeji

Wordcount : about 0,8k

Warnings : none !! pure fluff :>

I hope you enjoy, don't forget to take care my loves <3

Month after month, week after week, day by day, you were to find yourself love your girlfriend even more than you did before. Your love for each other had no end, it had been growing since you’d met, and it wasn’t ready to stop. At the same time, your desire for her has been growing as well, the need to have her close, to hold each other, to kiss for the first time in weeks, to cuddle with her, to have her with you

You loved Yeji more than you had ever loved someone in your entire life. Nothing had ever felt the same, nothing could compare to the butterflies in your stomach that you’d wake up with every morning, knowing you were going to talk to her. Nothing could compare to her tenderness, to her reassurance, to her gifts, to her words, to her manners. Nothing could ever beat Yeji’s love, it was something you had needed for long, and the both of you just could not get enough of each other

Every single day, without missing one, you’d be telling the other how much you missed them, you would be counting days until you’d be able to touch, to reunite again. Loving someone that lived hundreds of kilometers away was hard, probably not the best option and definitely not something you wanted to live with for the rest of your life. You loved Yeji more than anything, yes, but it had already been talked about between the two of you that you would move in together as soon as it was possible. You often found yourself daydreaming about your shared future with her, falling asleep together, her taking you out on dates, discovering the town together. You were also thinking about how it would be to come home with her waiting for you

It had been many weeks since you had last seen each other without a screen between you both. That was a long time ago, too long. You missed her like crazy, there wasn’t a day that would go by without you wishing she was here, holding you tight. It was the same on her side, she would repeat a thousand times a day how much she wished she could be more free for you

Yeji was busy, her schedule was always filled with work and meetings, and so was yours. You barely had rest days and vacation; it was hard to free yourselves in order to see each other

Walking home one afternoon, you stopped by a café to get yourself a drink and have a little bit of a rest. Once seated down, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and decided to call Yeji, who surprisingly didn’t answer. She was usually quick to respond to you, though you knew how busy she could get, so you didn’t feel the need to worry more than that

Finishing your hot drink, you began feeling a little lightheaded, probably due to fatigue. Leaving the shop, you began heading towards your place, wanting nothing more than to lie down and take a warm bath before getting a good night of sleep

Opening the door to your apartment, you were met with a scene that left you confused. The lights were on, even though you were pretty sure you had turned them off earlier today, when you had left for work this morning

Wandering around your place, you told yourself you must’ve had forgotten to close them, you were definitely tired and must be why you couldn’t remember properly, or so you thought

Opening the door that led to your bedroom, you were surprised to see her there, eyes teary as she saw you. Immediately jumping in each other’s arms, she began kissing your forehead a few times, telling you how much you were missed, and how excited she was to surprise you

Making her fall on your bed, you quickly joined her, not even bothering taking your shoes off as you were too preoccupied by the thought that she was here. It was too good to be true, you felt like in a fever dream, happiness took over you as you buried yourself in her chest

“I’m so happy to see you my love, and the best part is, I’ll be staying for the holidays :)”

Feeling your excitement go up, you took her face in your hands and kissed her

You could not be happier

#kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #itzy #itzy yeji #itzy oneshot #itzy imagines #itzy scenarios #itzy reactions #itzy fluff #fluffcember #gaypeople4itzy #gaypeople4itzylovesyou #gaypeople4itzytalkingtothemselves

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enchantedlandcoffee · 1 year

Note

3. “It’s always been you, and it will always be you. Please never forget that.”

Thanks anon! I had fun writing this one!

“You heading home, mate?” Liam asked as the movie ended. softly nudging Zayn to wake him up.

“Is it alright if I just kip here, Payno?” Louis answered, taking a sip of his beer as he stretched his legs out, having been sitting on them for the majority of the movie.

“You sure, Lou? You’re only down the hall and I’m sure Harry’d be worried if you didn’t come home?”

“Nah, I'm sure he'll be just fine by himself for one night. Besides, I’m pretty sure Nick’s over there.” Louis drawled, finishing off his beer as he searched his pockets for his phone. Liam winced at the bitter tone in his friend’s voice.

“Call him at least, Lou. The last thing we need is Harry banging on my door because you didn't come home' Liam pleaded, picking up a sleepy Zayn and heading towards their room, leaving Louis sprawled out in the living room, searching the sofa for his phone.

“You know you’re not my dad right?” He called, hearing a chuckle from Zayn and a groan from Liam.

“I don’t hear the phone ringing!” Liam yelled back at him and Zayn disappeared into their room, Zayn calling a ‘Night Lou!’ before the door slammed shut.

“‘Call him,’ he says.” Louis mocked, finally fishing his phone out of the couch cushions. "I'll call him alright." He winced at the brightness of his screen, thumbing through his contacts. Since when did he know this many people? Aha, Harold. Giving himself a silent cheer, he pressed the call button, placing the phone between his shoulder and ear as he stood up, heading towards the kitchen. He rifled through the fridge, praying that the call would go to voicemail.

“Hello?” A gruff voice answered, causing Louis to nearly drop the bottle of water he was holding.

“Harry?”

"Lou? Why are you calling me at 2 in the morning? Aren't you in the other room?"Louis winced at the mention of the time, his previous anger switching into a feeling of guilt at the premise of waking Harry up.

“Shit! I’m so sorry Haz! I didn’t realise what time it was. I’ll let you get back to sleep.” He hurried, moving to grab his phone.

“Lou, it’s fine. What were you calling for? I’m assuming the phone call means that you didn’t come home last night?”

Louis sighed and closed the fridge quietly, hopping up onto the nearest kitchen stool.

“I thought I’d stay at Liam and Zayn’s tonight. You know, give you two some space.” He answered, fiddling with the label on the bottle.

“I mean- that’s nice of you but- wait. What do you mean ‘you two’?”

“You know- you and Nick. I know that you guys had a date tonight- last night. Though I’m not sure why you didn’t just have it today- what with it being Valentines and all that.” Louis stated, brow furrowing in confusion. He remembered Nick messaging him that night about his plans with Harry and his subtle request to ‘vacate the apartment for the night’. The message being the cause of his dramatic exit from his flat and the spontaneous movie night he’d convinced his friends to join.

“Lou,” He heard Harry sigh, picturing his friend sitting up in their- his bed and running his hands through his hair, “I didn’t have a date with Nick tonight. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“You could have, you know.” Louis whispered, the next sentence killing him to add “it’s my fault we’re not together anymore. You should be able to date who you please- someone who makes you happy. Not someone who causes an argument over the stupidest thing.” He heard a muffled sob, his heart instantly breaking for the other boy.

“Lou, I don’t want to date anyone else. It's always been you and it always will be you. Please never forget that.” Harry’s voice was particularly stable as he reassured Louis, no sign of wavering or a sob.

“But Nick asked me to leave…” Louis trailed off, noticing the anguish in his own voice as he realised the tears that had pooled in his eyes.

“Can you come home now?” Harry asked, laughter evident in his tone, “I swear it will all make sense when you get here.”

Louis nodded, forgetting that Harry couldn’t see him and hung up the phone, jumping off the stool and sending a quick text to Liam explaining everything. He rushed out of the flat and down the hall, fumbling with his keys to open the door.

“Lou?” He heard Harry call, as he locked the door and entered the living room, immediately seeing photos dangling from various surfaces. He wandered around the room slowly, not seeing his boy waddle out of the bedroom wrapped in a duvet.

“I asked Nick to get you out of the house for a bit,” Harry admitted, pulling the duvet tightly around himself, “he and Niall volunteered to help me get you back. We thought you’d only be gone for a few hours, hence the candles and food.” Harry gestured to the picnic basket Louis had overlooked. “The plan was to remind you of the amazing times we had together, and then at midnight I was going to ask you to be my boyfriend again.” The young boy mumbled, taking in Louis’ expression. Louis quickly crossed the room, enveloping the taller boy in a tight hug.

“Yes, a million times yes!” He answered, pulling back from Harry only to kiss the younger boy. “Happy Valentine’s babe.”

#larry drabble #anon #louis tomlinson #harry styles #drabble #larry fanfiction #enchantedlandcoffee larry drabbles

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thatfreshi · 1 year

Text

I Would Want You to Go With Me (Markiplier x reader)

This is about double the length of my other pieces. More of a fluffy slow burn. Had a lot of fun with this one!

(Suggested song: 400 Lux - Lorde)

You hang up the phone and fall back onto the couch. That was Ethan on the line, telling you that your road trip had to be postponed. You were excited to get away for a while, and now it would have to wait til next week. Work has been a little bit of a drag, and you really need a break. Funnily enough, you and Mark have an “editing hangout” scheduled, where you literally sit in your living room and edit and give each other shit when you get off track. Between his ADHD and your lack of motivation, it’s an efficient yet fun arrangement. Before you could finish thinking about how you really don’t want to do any extra work, your front door opens.

“Well y/n, I have bad news and bad news.”

You sit up on the couch.

“Is it worse than Ethan canceling our trip?”

“Uhm, I don’t think so? First of all, your trash can is knocked over, and it is 100% not because I parked really bad today.”

“Markkkk, if you’re gonna come over here so we can both work better, can you please not add more to my plate? Now I have to go pick up the trash and edit two pretty lengthy videos.”

“You know what? Fair. I will go fix it, but before that, second round of bad news: I brought the wrong drive with me, which means I actually have nothing to edit!”

You put your head in your hands and sigh.

“So you get to sit here and torment me while I work? Great, wonderful.”

Or course you’re being sarcastic, but some of it is true. After all, you do have a lot to do, and you were really looking forward to that trip.

“Nooo, it’ll be fun! I’ll sit here and talk non-stop while you hopefully get something done and it’ll all be fine! But first, I am going to pick up your trash can before I forget.”

You lay back down as the door closes again and sigh. Again. At least he’s here, and you’ll have some ounce of support to get you through the monotonous work. Besides, you like when he comes over. He usually stays the night since you guys live quite a ways away from each other. California is a big state after all. You and Mark end up ordering in some food and playing some mind-numbing game on your TV until you both pass out on the couch. Is it a little childish? Yes. Do you both plan on stopping anytime soon? Not a chance.

“Alright, trash can is back in position M’lady. Now, you have work to do.”

You groan in the most dramatic way possible.

“But do I haveeeee tooooo?”

“I mean, I did come down here for us to work, and I can’t do any, which by my math means you have to do enough work for the both of us.”

Then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“Well, you do still have your laptop in your bag right?”

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“So, by my math, if I have two videos to edit and there are two of us and we have two laptops… it seems like I should just send you my other video, and you can edit it for me.”

“You know what? That’s fair. Alright, give me what you got.”

You both edit and talk for a couple of hours, shooting the shit and somehow paying attention to each other through the two extra yous talking. Eventually, you get back on the subject of the road trip.

“Yeah, I’m honestly pretty bummed. Like sure, editing is fun and all, and I love running my own channel, but god damn, I need a break.”

Mark looks away from his screen and thinks for a moment.

“Well, I mean, I know you wanted to go with Ethan, but if he’s busy, I don’t know, we could go on a trip tomorrow. I already packed overnight stuff, and you don’t have to cancel with Ethan obviously, but what’s the harm in two vacations?”

You close your laptop, having just finished your video. You didn’t tell Mark, but you gave him the longer recording to go through.

“I don’t know. I’m worried I’ll end up taking too much time off and get out of my groove or something.”

“Well, no offense y/n, but you’ve kinda been out of your groove for a while. Maybe you need something spontaneous to jump your system, ya know?”

You throw one of the decorative pillows at him.

“First of all, that was fully offensive. Second of all… you’re sadly probably right.”

“Why am I ‘sadly probably right?’”

“Because anytime you’re right is a sad time.”

He chucks the pillow back at you.

“Yeah, okay, I deserve that.”

You two laugh at the exchange for a little before Mark returns to wrap up his edit. When he’s finally finished, you order some pizza and start to put together a game plan for what you two are now calling ‘The Most Awesome Epic Overnight Sleepover to Road Trip of Spectacularness Ever,’ or MAEOSRTSE for short. You don’t refer to it by its full name or abbreviation for very long.

“So, what is the plan for this amazing road trip that’s only now amazing because I’m a part of it?”

You scoff.

“Well, I was just kinda planning to hit all the big Cali cities? I haven’t lived here too long and I wanted to explore. Like honestly I think the only times I’ve been to LA are to visit you or Ethan. I’m surprised you and Ethan didn’t talk about it at all.”

“I mean, I didn’t wanna pry or anything.”

You cock your head at him.

“Why would you be prying?”

“Well, I just kinda figured it wasn’t exactly… a friendly trip.”

“Woah, I’m not like mad at Ethan or anything. Do you think I’m gonna murder him in SoCal?!”

“I mean I don’t know. You’re probably capable of it.”

“No but really, what do you mean?”

“I just thought maybe you were gonna make things with him more than friends, that’s all.”

“WOAH, no way. Ethan and I have been friends for like, a million years. He’s basically my brother at this point, gross.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a sign of relief, but perhaps not. You’ve only known Mark for the year or so you’ve lived here. Ethan was actually the one who introduced you, and he actually thought that you would hit it off. You’ve become really good friends, but you didn’t ever think it would go beyond that. Sure, he’s amazing and pretty and his smile makes you blush sometimes, but you wouldn’t want to ruin anything you two already had just to see if maybe you could date. Just as you start to ponder what that could look like, the pizza arrives. Luckily you live pretty close to a Domino’s.

“I’ll get it.”

Mark hops off the couch and grabs your pizzas from the delivery guy, tipping him generously in the process. He brings the cheesy delights back to the coffee table and makes his way into your kitchen to get some paper towels.

“So, are you into anyone? Because I always kind of assumed you and Ethan had this like on again off again thing goin on.”

“Agasp! Is Mark Fischbach trying to gossip with me right now?!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say gossip. Am I not allowed to ask questions?”

“I guess you can just ask things without it being scandalous. No, I’m not particularly interested in anyone, but I wouldn’t be opposed to like a date or anything romantic. I guess I’ve just been too busy to look into anything like that right now.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll come at just the right time.”

He smiles as he gives you a share of paper towels.

“So, this California trip. You just want to hit the big cities? Do you want to do anything specific?

“Not really. Honestly I just want to drive and see where the wind takes us, see what’s out there.”

“I can work with that.”

The both of you binge on pizza for a while and play some Mario Party, cursing each other out whenever you put each other behind on the board. After a while, you go into bread-based delirium and only half pay attention to each round. Eventually, your blinks get longer and longer, and you fall into the soft embrace of the couch. However, when Mark wakes you up soon after, you realize it was not the couch, but was actually him.

“I’m sorry y/n. I didn’t want to wake you, but I had to get up and I didn’t want to startle you or anything. I was just going to put everything away.”

You sit up slowly, trying to get your brain working again.

“What? No, you don’t have to do that, just leave it out it’s fine.”

“Y/n, I always put everything away after you fall asleep.”

“Really? That’s so nice. Thanks Mark.”

You hug him in your sleepless daze, not really thinking about it. He wraps his arm around you for a moment, before realizing he probably shouldn’t linger.

“Well, I’m gonna clean, and you can get back to bed, okay?”

“Mm, okay.”

He slowly unwraps you from his side, and before you know it, you’re waking up to a clean table and the smell of pizza and soda eradicated.

It’s 9, maybe 10 am. Mark is huddled into the corner of the couch, asleep, basically giving you the rest. You try to remember what happened before you fell asleep, but it’s hopeless. You two stay up far too late for your brain to process anything most nights. In fact, you only woke up due to some piece of shit revving their engine outside.

Now that you’re up, you decide to go freshen up, maybe change clothes. And besides, you do have to start packing for this trip. You feel a little guilty for not telling Ethan, but for whatever reason, you jumped at the opportunity when Mark offered to go in his stead. Over the past year, the two of you had become really good friends. Sure, you’ve known Ethan forever, but your friendship with him was nothing like this. These nights spent together with Mark, they were probably your favorite parts of the month. It was easy being around him. You didn’t have to try, you didn’t have to filter yourself, you could just, be.

After a shower and a quick change, you come back to the common space, where Mark was now awake, sleepily scrolling through Twitter, cozied up in your throw blanket. He often complains about his bad morning social media habits, but he doesn’t seem like he’s going to stop anytime soon.

“Good morning Mark. You want something to eat? I have eggs, cheese… more eggs…”

You then realize the only thing you can really make is an omelet.

“Okay, so unless you want to just eat cheese, it’s looking like it’s gonna be something, uh, eggy.”

He stretches out on the couch, trying to get a hold of his surroundings. He’s not particularly a morning person, at least not right after he wakes up.

“Yeah, eggs, sounds good.”

He stumbles off to your bathroom. You hear the shower running again as you begin getting out your frying pan and cracking eggs. The kitchen fills with the pleasant scent of butter and pepper, and for a moment, you think about how peaceful everything is. You think about how you could live like this forever. You don’t even particularly know what that means.

“Your water pressure still sucks you know.”

You almost jump at his voice, as you were thoroughly lost in thought.

“Okay, and I don’t exactly have the money or the time to fix that, now do I? Unless you’re offering to fix it, I wouldn’t complain.”

He playfully rolls his eyes and opens your fridge, grabbing for the orange juice. Right around then, the omelets are done.

“Do you seriously have pulp orange juice in here? Jesus Christ, this is SO MUCH PULP.”

You can’t help but laugh so loud that your entire neighborhood probably heard it.

“Mark, are you seriously gonna be a baby about some orange, in your orange juice?”

“I just don’t get why you need MORE orange in it, like it’s already so much orange!”

“Okay well if it’s that upsetting, why don’t you just strain it or something.”

And that’s exactly what he does, almost pouring all of your OJ down the sink in the process. Once that catastrophe is avoided, you two go back to the couch and eat your cheesy eggs. After finishing up breakfast and finalizing your road trip plans, Mark realizes he has almost nothing past spending the night. The both of you pack, and you end up finding some hoodies of yours that fit him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try this another time? I know it can be a little stressful if you’re not fully prepared for something.”

“Oh, trust me, I may not be very prepared in reality, but in this ol noggin up here? Extremely prepared. So prepared that it’s literally in my bloodstream.”

You aren’t sure what’s gotten into him. Mark is usually more of a homebody, even more than you are, and yet he’s so ready to go across the state with you.

“Besides, I asked the dog sitter to work a couple extra days, and I have uploads scheduled for a little bit. It’ll be fine y/n. I want to do this with you.”

With that, you both are finished packing, unsure of exactly how long you’ll be gone for. Luckily your jobs both give you a lot of flexibility, and you don’t have anything at home that needs attending to, other than your water pressure apparently.

Soon enough, you’re on the road. You decided to take your car, as it has more storage space, but Mark insists on driving. You get into a fake argument over the trash incident from the night before, but he claims that parking is his only issue, not the actual driving part. You decide to trust him for whatever reason.

The first stop is LA. It’s been a while since you’ve gone, as Mark usually ends up going to your place instead of vice versa. It’s around two hours away since you live closer to Bakersfield. Some could argue that your California trip isn’t very genuine, but Northern California is about as boring as watching paint dry. At least, that’s what Mark says. Instead, you decide to trek to every major city in SoCal.

The next two hours are spent playing improv games in the car, and Mark getting mad every time you don’t follow the “Yes, and” rule. It’s not your fault that you didn’t do theatre in high school. After a while, you run out of scene ideas, and you begin just staring at the desert out the window.

“You alright y/n?”

“Yeah, just taking it all in, being in the moment.”

Mark isn’t much for music in the car, but he does hum to himself, either things he’s heard previously or little tunes he’s made up in his head. It’s nice, melodic, the perfect thing to add to the peace that you feel in this moment. Sometimes he hums something familiar, and the both of you buzz along together, until eventually he swaps to something you’ve either forgotten or never known. You love this, the fact that you and Mark don’t have to talk all the time, that it can be quiet and calm, and you can still enjoy each other’s presence. However, the moment does indeed pass, as you’re almost to LA.

“So, anything in particular you want to do? Or is this more of a dealer’s choice thing?”

“I mean, you’re the one who lives here, so yeah, show me around.”

The rest of the day is spent going to all the little nooks and crannies that he knows exist in the city. Small antique stores, hidden coffee shops, tiny parks full of birds singing. At one point, you think one of them tweets a little song Mark was humming earlier, but it was probably only your imagination. By the time it’s dark, you’re at an ice cream parlor, and he makes fun of you for picking rocky road.

“I just don’t understand why people need their food to be so, complicated. Me? Vanilla, all the way.”

“So you don’t want two flavors at once? Like you don’t mix your stuffing and mashed potatoes together at Thanksgiving?”

“Oh god, no! No way! That would ruin the sanctity of the meal.”

It’s late enough that you’re the only two there. In fact, the employees are cleaning up as you speak. Mark assured them that you wouldn’t take too long while you paid. One of the workers smiles at the two of you bickering before going back to closing up for the night.

“We should probably get back to the car.”

He nods, and you both take your ice cream with you, thanking the parlor workers as you leave. Usually it would still be bustling at this time of night, but he took you to a small offshoot where people weren’t up crazy late, and the squirrels still roamed the streets. When you get back in the car, the two of you sit there for a while, trying to decide where to stay for the night.

“Well, we could go to your place, but I wouldn’t want to disrupt the dog-sitter.”

“Maybe we should just camp out tonight. There’s lots of beautiful desert around here.”

You decide to trust him, despite the idea of camping out in the middle of nowhere making you extremely nervous. After all, you do trust him. He’d never lead you astray, at least on purpose. He starts the car, and it takes about another hour to get back into the middle of nowhere. Mark hasn’t used GPS all day, and he claims that he just knows where he’s going most of the time. It was clear that he knew where he was going now as it got darker out and the buildings became sparser.

Eventually, he pulls off the road and into a vast expanse of desert. It’s a lot brighter than you thought it would be. The stars, speckled across the sea of space above you. When he eventually stops, the both of you open the back of your car and set up for the night, laying out blankets and a small lantern you packed away at the last minute.

“I’m happy you took me out here.”

You two don’t usually get very sentimental. Everything about your friendship is fun and games.

“How come?”

He eyes you with thoughtfulness.

“I… I really needed the break. It’s been a lot of fun.”

There’s a drizzle of honey in your tone.

“Well don’t get all sappy yet. We still have a couple days.”

You don’t know why you’re feeling so emotional about all of this. Of course, you’re excited to have more of the trip left to go, but today has been perfect. Fully, genuinely, perfect. When you’re thinking back, you remember last night, how you fell asleep on Mark’s shoulder, how he always cleans up when you fall asleep.

“You don’t have to do that y’know.”

He looks confused by your sudden shift.

“Do what?”

“Clean up after our sleepovers. I just remembered.”

“You know, I’ve told you that multiple times, and you usually forget. I really don’t mind.”

“Yeah, but I’m the host. It just feels rude that I let you do it all.”

“You don’t let me do anything. You didn’t even know, and besides, again, I really don’t mind. Promise.”

You hold out your pinky, and he locks into it with his own. You smile, getting up to get a better look at the stars. He watches you for a moment before going to join you. Before you know it, you’re lying on the desert sand, looking for any of the constellations you remember from school.

“Have I ever told you how much I like space?”

You roll over to look at him.

“I mean, I’ve heard plenty about it, but you haven’t told me yourself.”

“Would you go? If you had the chance?”

“To space? I don’t know. Depends on if it was safe I guess.”

“Well, if I had the chance, I would want you to go with me.”

He turns to meet your gaze.

“And I would tell you everything I know about the stars. Hell, I’d probably name a star after you.”

You blush a little, surprised by his sudden loving tone.

“In that case, I would go with you.”

You lock together yet another pinky promise, your hands lingering moments too long, eventually interlocking your fingers.

“Mark, I-”

He kisses you before you can finish your sentence. You kiss him back. You both know what you would’ve said anyways. When your lips finally break free, you’re both smiling, giggling like you did in your youth. That night, you cuddle up in the back of your car, dealing with the cold that the desert brings. It’s okay though, you don’t mind. Nothing could ruin this. Nothing could ruin how oblivious you’ve been to what’s clearly been here all along. Nothing could ruin this spectacular realization you’ve had today.

“I guess I’ll have to come over more, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so. And now every night can be editing night.”

The blanket of the stars brought you together that night, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#slow burn #fluff #markiplier #markiplier x reader

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