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chaniiverse · 2 months ago

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Moments to save from act 1:

For just a moment, you dare envy Chanhee, who despite being dressed beautifully in a dark red suit and a button down open far too low to be subtle, can at least breathe without feeling suffocated.

One word. Hot. The way the first look to come in my mind was his AAA black outfit (I love for that post of his)

“And Chanhee, still gorgeous,”

Ikr. The only thing I would ever agree with something Juyo said in this

“It’s Changmin,” he snarls back, and the way he says it makes you straighten your posture. You don’t actually think you’ve really heard his voice before, but there’s a certain dominance in the way he says his name to you that makes you still, “maybe try that, if you want my attention.”

HES SO SASSY. WE LOVE IT

“Well, you see, most people work for the things they get. I can send you a few job openings if you’d like?”

My honest reaction because he’s just so sassy

“Then don’t be fucking stupid.”

Again. Hot.

the fact that he was frustrating, a little bit too pretty and apparently smart. Two of those, you didn’t really care for.

HEY HES VERY PRETTY THANK U VERY MUCH 😾😾

“she gives me a headache anyway.”

Okay rude 😭😾

“You bumped into me,” you’re about to protest but he comes closer to you, looking at your stained piece of clothing and then back up at you, “darling, you love to run your mouth on your riches, so put them to use.”

ATOP WUTH THE NICKNAMES JICHANG FUDHNHYFVHJ

“what? Not good enough for the little doll?

THE NICKBAME IS MAKING ME WANY TI DROWN MYSELF. NEVEF THOUGHT I’D GROW A LIKING TOWARDS SKMEONE CALLINV ME DOLL

Chanhee loved her. She liked him, though. A lot more than you. She tolerated you, you supposed.

Love it when cats love Chanhee more than their actual owners 🥰

“I wonder what his cock is like…” Chanhee nearly spits his wine back out.

DHDJDJDDJ THIS WAS HONESTLY SO SUDDEN (I might have read this already in the doc you sent long ago but I am not too sure so I cackled when I saw Chanhee’s reaction)

Honestly, any drunker and you might’ve just asked Chanhee. You did not just think about fucking your best friend.

I wouldn’t certainly mind

“Call your precious Juju,” Chanhee answers

Channie you 😭

Why couldn’t you so effortlessly, even in a drug-induced tipsy state, look so beautiful?

Exactly my question. Chanhee is so effortlessly beautiful that it’s embarrassing for me to exist because of how I look

“Go to sleep, seriously,” Chanhee mumbles, a little slurred but sweet as his leg drapes over your thigh. He wasn’t very affectionate usually, but the moments in which your best friend would reach to hold you like this, were moments you cherished. For you knew them to be rare, and whilst you weren’t very big on affection yourself, from him it was different. Because you knew that when he gave it to you, when Chanhee loved you with such tenderness, it was because he truly felt like it was needed.

Best friend Chanhee is something I need at this point so that I can have a breakdown and he’d there to comfort me

“Little doll,”

🥴😵‍💫🥴😵‍💫 okay but…*sigh* he’s hot…

“Get your talon claws off me- ouch!”

😭😭😭😭😭

“She knows her thanks. How endearing of you, doll,” doll

NOT HER YET AGAIN BEING A PUFDLE (but same.)

“So it’s not just me that you’re a tyrannical bitch to?” Chanhee coughed back a laugh, hiding the smile behind his hand and you felt ganged up on.

DONT LAUFH CHANNIE SJSJSJSJS EVEN THO IYS TRUE SIDIDID (but so cute how he defended her immediately after)

“You’re right. I’m sorry little doll. Bring me that hoodie tomorrow, and I’ll see what the fairy godmother can whip up for me,”

STOPDJSJSJSJS. CHANGMIN IS SO FUNNY 😭. Love his conversation with the reader so much although she’s acting like a bitch

You get up before Chanhee can finish, unbeknownst to you, hurting his feelings in the process because as rude as he knew you to sometimes be, you never acted this way towards him. You loved Chanhee, you were mostly kind to him, but suddenly something cracked in a mirror and he started to see that maybe you weren’t exactly all that he’d made you to be in his mind. Maybe you weren’t perfect

NAUR CHANHEE. PLZ DONT GET HURT BECAUSE OF THAT STUPID GIRL SJSJSJS. BITCH APOLOGISE TO MY BABY RN 😾. Don’t you dare hurt my baby again Y/N or else it’s you and me‼️

“Don’t touch her like that!”

The way I also teared up when Chanhee (and Hyunjae) stood by Y/N’s side when Juyo was being fucking aggressive 😭😔

Reader the whole chapter lowkey:

babydoll || ji changmin || act i

↳ Changmin isn’t popular nor is he rich, whereas you run on the other end of the spectrum, spoilt and living on your dads credit card. when you’re tasked with kicking him out of the biggest party of your year, you come to realise he’s not all that bad. unfortunately, falling in love with the ji changmin is your one way ticket to social suicide.

↳ pairing: ji changmin x female reader + ex lee juyeon x female reader

!!! this is not a love triangle !!!

~ rating: NC-17 minors please do not interact with this work

↳ genre: enemies to acquaintances to reluctant friends to lovers, slowburn, drama, angst, happy end but it takes a long ass time, rich girl broke ass uni boy

~ warnings: everyone kinda sucks, reader is a pain to deal with, alcohol, sex while on drugs, sex while intoxicated (consensual), condom where?, use of whore, degradation kinda, the classism is strong in this one, implications of eating disorder, body issues, body modifications (nipple piercings), changmin is basically a chainsmoker but we love him, cocaine is common, so is imported wine, swearing, juyeon is toxic, emotional abuse, manipulation (?), moaning the wrong name, bullying, pet names (little doll, doll, darling, princess), good girl, oral (male recieving), spanking if you squint, taller reader with long hair, is anyone redeemable?

everyone is an adult in their 20s

!!! if I missed anything or I remember something else I will add it !!!

↳ words: 14,838

a/n: this is a month late, i know. changmin broke my computer, it's simply not my fault, thanks.

I have said this previously but I will be stating this every chapter. There are some specific physical attributes to this reader which I usually avoid doing but for the story itself it was necessary.

Also, please note that the warnings are applicable to the chapter in question, not necessarily the whole story. You can find all the warnings on the masterlist to babydoll.

let me know if you wanna be on the taglist 🩵

babydoll playlist || teaser

You huff in frustration in your desperate attempts at wriggling yourself into your custom made corset without accidentally dragging the jewelry adorning your nipples with you, for the pain would be hell and you cannot be dealing with any of that on such an important night.

“Why do you still squeeze yourself into clothes that don’t fit?”

“It does fit,” your best friend raises his eyebrows, coming over to you and completely unbothered by your bare chest. He’s seen you naked before, and whilst there were many rumours of you and Chanhee being an item, you both laughed at the absurdity and simply played into it when you felt like stirring some trouble, “it has to be tight.”

“You can barely get it on,” but you let him take over, covering your chest with his own fingers as he tugs the moss coloured fabric over, until he’s sure your piercings are out of danger. You thank him and proceed to tug the rest down yourself, adjusting it so that your chest lifts further, creating the illusion of far more cleavage than you actually have, “looks good though.”

“I know,” he rolls his eyes, taking the white string of the corset between his fingers at your back, “how tight?”

“Break my ribs tight,” you’re yanked back with force into his chest, making you yelp though you ignore the pressure created on your body for the sake of beauty. For just a moment, you dare envy Chanhee, who despite being dressed beautifully in a dark red suit and a button down open far too low to be subtle, can at least breathe without feeling suffocated.

“You worry me,” and it’s genuine. His voice is sincere and it’s incredibly off putting, for you don’t do well with sincerity, nor do you do well with anything that isn’t bragging within your social circle to raise yourself above everyone else.

Out of all your friends, of which you had many, Chanhee was really the only one that you let yourself be true to, but the truth to who you were rarely came to light even for him. You hide yourself away, in favour of a rather stoic and icy personality, for it was so much easier to display power in arrogance than in empathy.

“Don’t. It’ll give you wrinkles,” he laughs, finishing up with a neat bow of the satin string down the centre of your back, your leather black shorts high on your waist and heels just above your knees. You looked good, lips stained a perfect red and eyeliner dangerously sharp with glitter over your eyelids.

Perfect.

“How do I look?” though you only expected one answer, one he gave you without missing a beat because Chanhee always knew exactly what you wanted to hear.

“Sexy as hell.”

The party is in full swing by the time you arrive. You never liked to be early, and arriving at the time given was what you considered to be a rather pathetic display of having nothing better to do beforehand. If anything, being late was being perfectly on time. You didn't care who might find it rude.

Your driver had taken a rather long and unnecessary detour upon your request so that you and Chanhee could down shots in the back of the SUV, a mess of small glass bottles littered across the floor that you’d pay someone to clean before your father ever found out. You didn’t care much for the damage you caused, mainly because there was never any repercussion for your actions.

The dents in your favourite credit card wasn’t even in your name, nor was the chaos you caused enough to cause much money to be lost. Your father allowed you to have anything you wanted, and the idea of having everything just made you want more. Your mother had no complaints either, for as long as you were out of her way, she didn’t care what you did. Well, it was partially true. You didn't like to think of the times she did say something to appeal to the idea that she was a good mother.

You were always greedy, but not only were you greedy, but you wished for your best friend to have whatever he wanted too. You took turns paying for things, weekend shopping trips more than a regular occurance, though where to most they may be simple and inexpensive, to you they were filled with luxury items that easily amounted to costs that most could never even dream to afford.

“Start of last term… how’d you feel?”

When stepping out of the car, it surprises you that you don’t stumble, Chanhee linking his arm with yours before thanking your chaffeur, handing him a large sum of bills in an excessive tip that he doesn’t need to give, “fucking finally. Can’t wait!”

He chuckles, leading you inside the house of none other than Lee Juyeon.

Juyeon was quite possibly the wealthiest young man on campus and your ex-lover, but neither of those made a difference in whether you were invited or not. It was a given that you were, even high up on the guest list along with your best friend's name as you were let in.

You’d been in these very walls a lot, could cross off many rooms on the list of where you’d been naked and bent over, sometimes high on drugs you’d barely remembered taking, creating a shift in reality and overwhelming pleasure that could never come sober.

“There she is, the little princess,” you scoff, glaring at Juyeon though accepting the delicate glass of expensive champagne that the man himself offers to you, handing another to Chanhee as if he’d prepared for this moment, knowing that if you came, the other wasn’t far behind.

Honestly, sometimes you think that Chanhee became the end to your relationship, but you were tired of it anyway. Whilst Juyeon could be fun company, the two of you were the opposite side of the same coin, far too similar in twisted and cold personality to ever be fully compatible.

“And the little prince. To what do I owe the honour?” His frown is immediate, frustrated by your constant reminder of being similar height, and he’s chucking his drink down his throat before dangling the glass between his fingers.

“Still the same bitch then, huh?”

“I learned from the best,” though Juyeon isn’t one to accept defeat. When he knows a situation can’t be won, he simply fades it out or ignores it, rather than arguing himself into a corner. He’s smart that way; something you’d taken onboard yourself for nothing was worse than realising you’d lost to someone else.

“And Chanhee, still gorgeous,” Juyeon sends him a wink, one Chanhee rolls his eyes to in a way that makes you laugh. The two of them were like oil and water, never getting along fully yet not hating each other enough either.

“I sent you the money,” your ex grins, digging into his pocket until a white paper box is between his jewellery-adorned fingers. There’s a cross displayed in the centre, ironic to you as your eyes seem amused.

“I’m aware,” he holds it out to you, though just as you grab it, he pulls his fingers back just enough for you to miss it, “just be careful. It’s good shit.”

"I would hope so with a price like that."

Juyeon wasn’t lying. When you’d cut down the white powder further with your credit card to create two equally sized lines, one for Chanhee and one for you, you hadn’t thought it would hit you so quickly. Given your quite frequent use of the drug, you’d actually become a bit immune to the first hit.

Chanhee had quickly decided that that one hit would be enough for you both. Whilst normally you’d argue with him and disagree, you let him place the rest in his suit jacket, storing it away from your glazed eyes that watched him lazily.

Your brain could’ve easily done a hundred thousand things in this moment, but instead you sat there with your legs bouncing and your hands only somewhat calmer because they were twisting in your lap, “let’s dance!”

You drag Chanhee to the living room that’s now the dance floor, back and forth in your movement before you’re easily brought to the centre of the room. With Chanhee, it was easy to grab attention, for he was a dancer before he was anything else, sober or not; he simply lived and breathed it, dragging you in by the waist to move with him.

You’re not sure how quickly the time goes. It could be hours or just a few minutes, but the cheering dies down and you’re wondering what could possibly be grabbing anyone’s attention so desperately that it’s not on you anymore.

Blurrily, you tear your eyes away from Chanhee, landing on a figure in the corner of the room alone. He’s disinterested, and it takes quite a long time for you to recognise him though when you do, you’re immediately filled with hatred.

Ji Changmin.

Beyond beautiful, sure, with his dark locks of hair and jewelry-adorned ears, his usual glasses sat over his face, framing it in a way that made him look innocent yet cute, but also completely worthless of anyone’s time.

And here he was taking yours away.

You’re not even sure how he got in. There was no way Juyeon would put someone who got into your university with pure luck and a scholarship, onto tonight's guest list of prestigious classmates who had it all. He didn’t even seem comfortable in being here, so why the hell was he here?

“Y/N,” Chanhee calls your name, though it’s a blur that fades somewhere deep within your drugged mind until you’re physically yanked back to pay attention to him. You notice Juyeon suddenly standing next to him, a lazy smirk on his lips while you have no idea where he suddenly came from.

“Explain, now.”

“Ah well, I wish I could. Don’t actually know how he got here. Impressive, though. Shall we keep him?”

He asks as if Changmin is a pet, though you suppose that’s not quite far off. To everyone in the room, the man in the corner meant very little. He didn’t have money, and whilst some of his clothes were nicely put together, they were mostly cheap. All in all, his appearance was a contrast to yours, and you never appreciated anyone who put in even a percentage less of effort into looks than you did.

You considered it lazy. Even if your rational mind told you he couldn’t afford better, it simply wasn’t good enough if he was going to be part of the world you were in.

“Mind telling him to leave?”

You hadn’t seen him all night, though here he was, Hyunjae, standing tall and proud before the three of you, dressed dark yet regal with a bottle of half-empty red wine between his fingers. It wasn’t unusual to see him avoid an actual glass at a party, for he saw no real use if he was going to drink the contents of a whole bottle anyway. Why pour it somewhere else first if the end result was the same?

“Juyeon, you’re the host,” Chanhee interjects, bitterly reminding Juyeon that he had to do most of the work unless he involved security. And when it came to using security, Juyeon liked to avoid it until it became the very last resort. He rather loved to manipulate people in conversation until they were uncomfortable enough to leave.

Whilst Changmin was a frustrating inconvenience, he was not worth causing a scene for.

“Y/N you tell him,” Juyeon yanks the bottle of wine from Hyunjae, chugging it down as you stare at him in disbelief.

“What? Why me?”

“You’re the only girl,” Hyunjae mumbles, not quite with the conversation as he attempts to get his drink back, mildly successful though there’s a fresh stain of liquid red on the carpet, earning him a rather rough punch to the shoulder from the host.

“Careful, that’s imported,” Juyeon scoffs.

“As if you paid for it,” and he couldn’t argue. His parents were often away, so he was often free to do as he liked and act like it was all his. In reality, only a small share of the luxury was, though the small share was more than enough for him to be incredibly well off and indifferent to anything.

“There’s other girls here,” you yell, spinning around as if to point them all out in an over-dramatic gesture in case all your friends were blind, but that doesn’t seem to matter, and now your head is starting to hurt as fatigue hits you from the alcohol, but your brain can’t rest to save your life because of the self-induced high you’re on from the drug you took.

“Very true,” Hyunjae confirms, though he seems to hold all the answers, so confident in the way he leans down to your level, a little condescending and dangerous in his tone, smelling of cologne and alcohol, “but none of those girls are you.”

Damn it, if Lee Jaehyun didn’t have a way with words.

“Fine,” you exasperatedly snarl, hands on your hips as you huff, annoyed, “what do I get?”

“What would you like?” Juyeon asks you, and it’s in the same tone he used to speak to you with when you were together. An attitude screaming you could have anything if you kept his bed warm at night.

“Shopping trip. Funded by you. No limit,” he’s considering it, rolling his eyes as he reaches for his pocket where his wallet lies, “and I get a plus one. Chanhee’s going.”

The smile on Juyeon’s lips immediately fades, but he nevertheless takes out the platinum card and practically shoves it against Chanhee’s chest, not trusting you to take it when you’re a little more than out of it, not to mention he’s fairly certain that you’re not even quite sure where you are in his house anymore.

“Fine,” he snarls, eyes angry but equally impressed. As if telling you you’ve played your cards well, exactly as he would’ve, but that he’s anything but happy about it.

You’re just as good as him, always unmatched and it’s his biggest frustration with you in his life. To him, you were a competitor, worthy of his time only because you pushed the limits.

Approaching Changmin should’ve been easy. He’d been standing in that corner for the past few minutes, simply unmoving, a drink in hand, alone and isolated, though as soon as you make your way towards him, he moves.

You’re not sure if he’d noticed you, or if maybe he’d grown restless and simply had terrible timing, but there was a growing anger in you at watching him walk away and go outside into the large backyard.

If there’s one thing you definitely didn’t handle well, it would be people walking away from you. And whilst sober, you may have been able to rationalise it more and thought that maybe, just maybe he hadn’t seen you, intoxicated you wasn’t as forgiving, not to mention insulted regardless if he’d known you were there or not.

It’s enough for you to angrily tear a drink away from the grand piano, a row of champagne glasses neatly lined up and filled to take, rushing after him blindly.

“Hey!”

Your voice is loud, enough so that people immediately stop their conversation to turn to you, only to realise that you weren’t paying them any mind, but the one person it’s meant for keeps walking as if he hadn’t bothered to hear you.

“I’m talking to you!”

You’re more secluded now, Changmin having chosen to rest his body against the fence furthest from the pool and crowds of people, though a few are still scattered about. He finally turns towards you, as if choosing to acknowledge your presence, though he doesn’t say a single word as he lights a cigarette.

“Do you not speak? Are you mute?”

Unbelievable.

You scoff, downing your glass in one go before you let it hit the railing to your side, hard enough to shatter and break at your feet.

“I don’t want your attention.”

“Then why did you run out here?”

There were many ways this conversation could go. Even more ways the conversation could’ve started, though you never thought the end result would be this, with Changmin getting on your last nerve before he offers a cigarette out to you, as if he’s completely unaware of how agitated you are. Or maybe he’s perfectly aware and is offering it as a means for you to calm down.

Either way, you surprise yourself by accepting it, practically ripping the lighter out of his hand. He watches you the whole time, and you’re not sure if you’re flattered or annoyed that he’s terribly good at maintaining eye contact with you when your chest is right there and everyone else has been looking down rather than up.

“You weren’t invited,” he smiles, jumping up to sit on the railing, and he doesn’t for one moment seem to disagree with you. You’d expect him to put up a fight, maybe tell you that you must be mistaken before you’d whip out the well I know Lee Juyeon personally card, but you never need to.

“You’re right, I wasn’t,” you’d say the thing that separates you both the most is how relaxed he seems to be carrying himself whilst seeming to be near or completely sober, whereas you at best only manage it either drunk or after sex for a few moments before you go entirely rigid again. You wouldn’t say you envy it, but it is something you wonder about.

“Why are you here?”

“My friend was invited. I’m just making sure he doesn’t drink too much-”

“What friend?” you interrupt, and it sounds harsher than intended but Changmin doesn’t seem very bothered. Either your words don’t affect him at all, or you’re unaware of how you’re actually speaking right now, maybe sounding far more out of character and far more gentle than you think in your head.

“That’s none of your business,” he answers and you scoff again. Any kindness you might’ve shown him is replaced with an anger that seems almost disproportionate to the situation.

“I’m making it my business.”

He doesn’t say anything first, watching as you take a drag from the cigarette he’d offered you. It bothers you, that he’s not really staring at your lips but rather what you’re doing, and you wonder why he doesn’t care. You’re giving him attention, why doesn’t he want it?

And then he walks away and you’re left standing there like an idiot. Something you absolutely refuse and detest and suddenly you’re the one chasing him again. You didn’t know a lot about Changmin, aside from the fact that he was likely smarter than you and had way less money, but what you were starting to learn, you hated.

You’d been told to kick him out and damn it, if that’s not exactly what you were going to do. You were as stubborn as anything and near yelling his name again before you simply huffed and attempted to run after him in your heels, something you weren’t really good at but you didn’t want to give the young man any more attention than he’d already gotten. From you nonetheless.

“You have to leave,” it came out weak, like you weren’t quite sure if you were gently asking or telling him, but it made him stop walking and look at you again. You ignore the way your heart lurches in your throat, clearing it and standing straighter, an attempt to make yourself seem bigger and more intimidating than you maybe were. You had to remind yourself that you were the one in charge, not him.

“Believe me, darling, I’m not here by choice,” yeah right.

“Then leave,” Changmin takes a step forward, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette near your lips, close enough to make you cough and you realise you need another fucking drink after this. Hell, maybe you’ll be dumb enough to find Juyeon to fuck the frustration away.

“I can't. I’m someone’s designated driver,” he answers back, and you see the way his knuckles clench just enough to indicate frustration. You’re getting to him, finally, though he still seems far too composed.

“You can’t afford tuition. How would you afford a car?”

“Well, you see, most people work for the things they get. I can send you a few job openings if you’d like?” God, any attraction caused by his appearance dissipated with the tone of voice he spoke in. He got under your skin and fast, nestling there with a comfort you didn’t appreciate.

“Bite me.”

“Where?”

“Fuck off.”

“Gladly. You’re dumbing me down,” your arms cross, yet even so he still doesn’t glance down when your cleavage threatens to spill over the corset you’re wearing and you huff. There were two options. Admit defeat and walk away, or hurt him. But any insult you thought of was lost on your tongue as you stared at him in near disbelief. He was waiting for you to answer, to say anything, but after a while he seemed almost bored and simply turned around again.

Unbelievable.

“Is your answer to just always walk aw-”

“You bore me,” he says, one hand in his pocket as he heads back towards the house that you’re meant to get him out of.

“You’re interrupting m- HEY!”

Never, ever would you admit defeat. It wasn’t like you to lose and you never knew anything other than getting your way, and yet here you stood frozen because someone had ignored what you wanted and it had left you speechless. He was embarrassing you and your character, both of which you knew to be strong and self-sufficient, and you were letting him.

“Did the little princess get ignored?” Juyeon looked thrilled, like he’d wanted this to happen, and yet you barely paid any mind to him suddenly appearing beside you. You hadn’t even noticed him approach, staring into a blank void of where Changmin had been walking back inside. Maybe if you imagined him still standing there, he’d appear and you could give him a piece of your mind, “Looks like I’ll have to take back that platinum card, little one.”

“What if I fuck you, can I keep it then?”

“Isn’t that a step away from prostitution?”

“Are you complaining about getting your dick wet?”

Juyeon shuts up in an instance, like even in his hazed slightly drunk high mind, he knew better than to complain. Chanhee would never let you live this future mistake down, but right now, you don't care. In this instance, you let Juyeon take your hand and tug you through a sea of people until you’re in his bedroom, shutting it quickly with your own body as he presses you against the dark wood. You grab his shirt and pull him close, tilting your head so he can kiss down your neck and you simply let him.

You were just so fucking frustrated and had already come here with the intention of fucking someone, and at least Juyeon knew you. He was insufferable, sure, but he was a source of comfort in familiarity that grounded you when you were too angry to fully think. Maybe you should learn to be more grateful for him.

Being grateful wasn’t exactly something you were good at showing, though, so instead you show your appreciation by sinking down to your knees, your shorts tightening around your thighs with your legs partially spread while you work on unbuttoning his pants. Juyeon chuckles, grabbing your hair between his large fingers, tugging in a way that shows arrogance and expectancy in your lewd behaviour.

You were both bad for each other, you think, but it’s something you don’t care about.

Juyeon’s arrogance and place in your life almost never played on your mind.

“Do you like whoring yourself out to me?”

“I can still bite your dick off,” he chuckles, low like he’s mocking you and it makes you shiver. You hate almost everything about him at this point, but he spoiled you and his cock was big and both were enough reason to keep him around.

“Maybe, but then your tight little pussy won’t get to clench around my cock when you cum,” and he had you cornered just like that, taking his cock in your mouth as you began to suck and wet the head with your lips. His free hand leans against the door, eyes cast down onto your own as you look up. You liked looking at him. He was beautiful, with sharp features and a cocky smile and your judgement didn’t matter when he stared back.

Your tongue dips into the slit of his cock before letting your teeth barely graze the shaft while you take him in your mouth, hearing him curse under his breath and his eyes finally disappear from your own in favour of squeezing them shut. You hollow your cheeks and angle your head in a way that lets you take more of him in, moaning around his cock when you do.

It’s become a little repetitive for you to give head, but you also don’t mind it because it was easy to do. You build up a pace and grab Juyeon’s thighs for support, digging your manicured nails into the flesh as he moves his hips in time with you, leaving you gasping for air each time he lets go. Your mouth releases his cock and a string of saliva falls between you both, your lips swollen red as you stare up at him with a blank stare.

You know you don’t have feelings for him, and he doesn’t have feelings for you.

“Get up,” you let him tug you, his hands moving to your back to tug the strings of the corset Chanhee had tied just hours ago, and it feels like a struggle to get it pulled over your head.

"Wait! My piercings,” you nearly yell, not ready to tear either of them because Juyeon decides to pull a little too hard. He huffs, frustrated, but he’s nice enough to listen and tries to be a little gentler while you finally allow your lungs their usual breathing capacity.

Your corset is haphazardly thrown to the floor and your shorts follow, but the minute you step out of them, Juyeon has lifted you up onto his waist. His cock presses against your lace panties, the wetness of your pussy felt through the fabric and he can only smirk against the kiss he gives you. You could verbally tell him anything you wanted, but your body always wanted him.

He sits on the edge of his bed, your legs wrapped around him while your body starts to grind down against him, making you mewl and whimper at how close he is while it still doesn’t feel like enough.

“Fuck me, Juyeon- ah!” Juyeon’s hand stings against your ass when he harshly slaps the skin, your nails digging into his shoulders before you add, “p-please.”

“Good girl,” his fingers tug the lace fabric to the side, his index teasing your clit and feeling your wetness gather on his skin and it feels agonizing and empty without him fucking you.

“Please, Ju- want your cock,” he chuckles, all too willing to oblige to your request, and you feel the tip of his dick by your tight hole, begging to be filled and dripping in your juices.

“Say please,” you whine again, but you both know he’s going to get his way in the end and you relent.

“P-please.”

His cock slips inside you with practised familiarity, but he hisses at the tight walls trying to push him out. Juyeon knows he should’ve taken more time in opening you up, but he also knows you wouldn’t have let him. He knows you like the sting of his cock pressing into you and opening you up just for him and you know not to ask for it because Juyeon knows you better.

It’s agonizing for you both, him waiting to fuck you while you lift your hips up and off his cock each time he goes a little deeper. Each inch stimulates you and makes you shake, and if he was a little less nice, he’d let his frustration get to him and have you sit down on his cock without warning.

“Princess, sit on my lap,” I’m trying. That’s what you think, but no words come out. You feel like you’ve gone dumb, which is an insult to your character but you don’t think it matters now, “let me fuck you.”

“Y-yeah-” you don’t know how much time passes, but you feel his thighs press to your ass and you nearly sigh in relief at the fullness you feel with him inside you and knowing every inch of him is in your cunt.

Juyeon slaps your ass again, hard enough that you jerk forward and a moan emits from your throat, and it’s like the sudden electricifying jolt wakes you up and has you moving against him, sinking down on his cock each time you move. It’s sloppy, maybe low effort, but given the routine you’ve both worked up, it’s almost too natural and easy to gravitate towards it.

Thankfully, the repetition is short-lived when your body strains and muscles tense, lifting your body up, though Juyeon presses you back down, hands digging into the flesh of your ass as you cum against him. Maybe it’s the drugs and alcohol in your system making this easy, tipping you over the edge way before you’re ready, but your exhausted mind doesn’t care and barely registers you being pushed off him so he can cum, a mess of white adorning your inner thigh like a decorative piece of lace.

Both your breathing is heavy and exhausted, the air thick and sweaty as you look up at the ceiling. You’re thinking, but you don’t quite know what about. You’re clouded, and you decide then that it’s time to find Chanhee and go home.

“I can drive you home.”

“Not like that,” you snarl, unwilling to get into the car with him intoxicated, but more so because you really don’t want to be near him right now. You’re not sure what it is, regret, frustration, maybe both, but you’re just ready to go home and forget this night ever existed.

“Take care,” you mumble something back, just loud enough so he knows you heard him, but you don’t find him to be very genuine. Juyeon was complicated, especially with you, and you wondered often if that circled back to the fact that you were both so painfully similar in your being.

“You fucked, didn’t you?” Chanhee is standing there, leaning against the wall by the corner you turned to go downstairs and it’s like he already knows. He looks disappointed, not because he cares about what you do or who with, but because he’s fairly certain he knows who you were with, “isn’t it a little pathetic to fuck your ex at his party just to get laid?”

“I wasn’t trying to get laid,” well, that could’ve been debated, but you could say with confidence that Juyeon hadn’t been on your list of plans for the night.

“But you fucked Juyeon, right?”

“I’m allowed to make poor decisions,” Chanhee follows after you, naturally stepping into pace with you as he pushes you both past crowds of people that cause him an abundance of frustration.

“Certainly true, you make plenty-”

“I don’t need a lecture,” you snarl, pushing your hair behind your ear after it falls from its place.

“Then don’t be fucking stupid.”

You want to turn your body around and argue. You’re good at arguing, but so is Chanhee and you’re fairly certain he wouldn’t back down from this, even if you’re both in a public setting, and it’s ultimately that and your desire to go home that has you say nothing at all. Honestly, you also know he’s right, that Juyeon is always a bad decision and will never fail to be, and that’s something you have yet to make your peace with.

A part of you still ached for someone you knew wasn’t good for you, but you refused to let any of it resurface. You weren’t going to be dumb.

Not again.

You were a little dumb. Your decisions were poor but your facade implied otherwise. You’d will away any thoughts of Juyeon and if they persisted, you’d be taking them to your grave. It was a Monday now, a terrible start to the week and you were very much ready to throw in the towel.

But you were smart and you enjoyed learning, at least to an extent, and really only your own ambitions and determination had landed you in a major that was far more mathematical than just theory, like you’d so naively believed, and it was really your own fault that you were burnt out from the amount of work you got.

It’s another reason why you feature so heavily in the university library, almost like a decorative piece, one of the statues that was carved out of stone around the massive two-story space, old oak woods and beautiful carpeted stairs spiraling up to a study area. One that you frequented more than any other place. Usually, Mondays were quiet. Especially Mondays that featured heavy rain and left most students at home. Honestly, you couldn’t blame them, which is why you were so agitated to see that almost every seat around you with a desk was taken.

Even the more comfortable chairs that spun and had a pillow as a rest but no table, were occupied and overflowing with students. You weighed your options, but given your time limit and unwillingness to stand around like an idiot and risk someone noticing it, you took a seat at a six-person table across a dark head of hair that you failed to recognise until you’d already sat down and it was too late.

Changmin.

You fucking hated Mondays.

The deflected way your shoulders dropped didn’t go unnoticed by him, you could tell, because he’d briefly looked up only to roll his eyes at the way you’d looked visibly annoyed, maybe even disappointed. There was the option to move, there was other space, but it would be far too obvious and you didn’t want to make a scene, not one that involved him. The last thing you needed was people talking, especially after you’d tried to kick him out of Juyeon’s party.

Did it bother him?

“You can quit staring at me.”

“I wasn’t staring,” but your answer came out too quick, too defensively and you knew he didn’t believe you. Honestly, you hadn’t noticed yourself staring until he’d said it, and at that point you knew saying the opposite was a lie. You just weren’t aware of it.

“About the party…” you’re not sure what you’re attempting, pushing your hair back and up into a bun to get it out of your way, using the distraction to think of what you might say.

“A pleasant conversation, certainly. Can I finish this?”

Changmin was strange. You couldn’t begin to pretend like you knew him nor could you understand him, aside from the fact that he was frustrating, a little bit too pretty and apparently smart. Two of those, you didn’t really care for.

“You weren’t invited. I was only doi-”

“Running Juyeon’s biddings because he doesn’t have the balls to do it himself?”

The temptation to say yes is on the tip of your tongue until you remember the weight of his credit card in your pocket, waiting to be spent with your best friend. You were not risking bad karma by allowing Juyeon to somehow find out and have it circle back that you agreed with Changmin on something. God forbid, you’d bury yourself alive if that happened.

“That’s not what I’m doing…”

“I already told you I don’t care,” Changmin looks back at his book, his glasses moving slightly as they do and you watch as he adjusts it with his slender fingers. You hate how nothing he says hides his intentions or feelings, it’s all right there on the surface and it drives you crazy because you know that he really doesn’t care, and it baffles you. It frustrates you.

Why the fuck was he so indifferent?

“Yeah but… that’s ridiculous…”

“Has anyone ever told you the world doesn’t revolve around you, or am I going to be the first?”

“This isn’t even about me. It’s about you being at a party uninvited,” you snarl, getting exhausted which is only exasperated when you hear someone shush you from further away. If you were speaking loudly, you didn’t care. Not enough, anyway.

“Yes, it keeps me up at night knowing I caused you such discomfort,” you scoff, feeling offended just by the tone of his voice, and yet you wish it wasn’t so obvious, just how much that bothered you.

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“What doesn’t?”

“Being at a party you aren’t allowed to be at?”

“And whose permission do I need? Yours?”

“If it were my party, sure. But in this case, Juyeon.”

“In which case, Juyeon can go tell me himself.”

“That’s bullshit!”

Except it isn’t. It bothers you so much because you know he’s right. It was Juyeon’s party. If he didn’t want someone there, he should’ve said it himself. Instead, you were left to do it, you accepted it because of the promised date with your friend on someone else's dime and it felt so incredibly shallow, not to mention you felt used.

But you weren’t ready to admit how shallow Juyeon made you feel. How lesser than you became for him. And you certainly weren’t ready to tell the person before you that he was right.

Unfortunately for him, you wouldn’t have gotten to say it either even if you really wanted to. There’s a weight of someone’s hand on your shoulder, making you look up to see the displeased face from the only male librarian, a name you never remember but a face you could go without seeing.

“I’m going to ask you to leave if you can’t keep your voice down at an acceptable level, young lady.”

“I was already leaving,” Changmin interrupts, packing his things into his arms before vacating the seat across from you, “she gives me a headache anyway.”

“I do not!”

Again, Changmin doesn’t care; it’s the way his lack of response that has a way of twisting your gut and boiling your emotions over, making you react and push against it whether you can justifiably reason with it or not. You just don’t like him.

Yet you feel like always getting the last word, he just barely seems to listen. He’s already left the library before you can think quick enough on your feet and now you’re on your own, alone and feeling humiliated because you know people are looking at you, heard you and him speak and they all know that he’s embarrassed you.

Your hatred for him had only grown tenfold in your humiliation.

Chanhee sits across from you looking almost doll-like with his black coffee in hand, your own drink before you on the table, untouched. You’d spent enough money that Juyeon might even notice it in his balance, bags surrounding you both and some already in the car because the weight on both your arms was overbearing, yet you still felt a void. You weren’t satisfied, nor were you happy.

It wasn’t good enough.

“You’re not listening. Do you want to keep insulting me?”

“Huh? Sorry… tell me again?”

“Forget it,” you sigh, feeling the guilt run through your bloodstream and settle in your heart with a heavy weight that you can’t shake.

“I’m sorry. I’m distracted…”

“Yeah, you’ve been distracted since we got here. Hours ago,” he was right, truly, but there wasn’t much you could do about it. Your mind was wandering and each time you told it not to, it persisted.

“Do you think… Juyeon should’ve kicked Changmin out himself?”

“Probably. But why do you care? You don’t like Changmin either.”

“Well… no… but he just… he’s getting under my skin.”

Chanhee laughs, but it’s caught in his throat and sinks when he realises you’re completely serious.

“Wait, this is actually bothering you?”

“Changmin is. He’s so… frustrating. I can’t stand him.”

“So, don’t? I’m not sure I see the problem?”

Because there wasn’t one. At least there shouldn’t be one. It didn’t matter. How Changmin viewed you, how he thought of you should mean absolutely nothing, and if it meant anything, it shouldn’t have been enough to get under your skin, and yet here you were, letting him get to you.

Like he meant way more than he does. Way more than you should ever let him.

“You’re right.”

It’s another Monday morning when Changmin makes you snap and you realise very quickly that Chanhee was very wrong. You absolutely should let everything about Changmin’s existence bother you. Even more now that he’s spilled excruciatingly warm fresh coffee on your white hoodie that cost way more than his entire outfit.

“I’m sorry,” it’s the most genuine he’s ever sounded when speaking to you. A part of you knows it wasn’t intentional either. You’d turned the corner too fast and he’d done the same, crashing into you before he even realised you were there and it was already too late, but your anger got the better of you. His apology meant nothing to you. He could say it twice, even a third time and it would only make you angrier.

“Are you fucking blind?”

“Actually, yeah. I don’t wear glasses as an accessory…”

“You- are you… do you think this is funny!?”

“Not particularly.”

“I’m not getting this out, Changmin,” you huff, looking down at your ruined clothes and remembering that it isn’t even nine yet, and your entire outfit is ruined. You’re sure if it wasn’t so thick of a fabric, it would’ve burned your skin too, “replace it.”

“I don’t hear a please.”

“You ruined it!”

You don’t know what makes your head spin more. The fact that he’s directly insulting you, or the fact that he called you darling again. Your heart lurches up to your throat and threatens to beat louder, and that’s the biggest insult to you. Changmin shouldn’t call you that. You don’t want him to, and yet nothing leaves your lips to protest or tell him to stop.

He waits a moment, staring at you awaiting a response, any response, and yet he doesn’t get anything. Changmin wonders why, what silences your attitude now to simply stare at him, but he’s not going to ask and he’s not going to pick a fight with you unless he feels the need for it. He’ll defend himself, but not more than he has to.

Which is why he decides to be the more rational peace bringer in this mess of a conversation, pulling his own hoodie over his body to hand to you.

“Here, put it on and shut it,” you don’t move at first. Changmin wonders if you even heard him at all yet you stare at the fabric with such offence that he’s fairly certain you did, “what? Not good enough for the little doll?”

Doll. That was a first. You’d heard Chanhee be referred to as a doll plenty of times. Even you thought of him as one sometimes, with his delicate build and beautiful features and attitude, but never yourself. It was never you that was referred to as something that pretty.

You wondered, were you delicate to him, like porcelain, or maybe you were cheaper, not really dollike in the way that you wanted to be. Only when you realised again that it was Changmin that had referred to you as such, did you snap out of it and get annoyed, “absolutely not. I’d rather die than wear that.”

He shoves it into your hands anyway and the fabric is so soft to the touch, you nearly regret declining him at all. It’s way more comfortable than yours, at least in the way it feels against your fingers, and it’s warm too. Not in a way that feels dirty but rather like a heated blanket, like someone's body heat had been radiating off it to create a warm little shell you could nestle yourself into with hints of perfume.

“Wear it or not, I don’t care. Just… shut your mouth. Your voice is grating me, and now I have to get more coffee,” Changmin doesn’t wait for you to speak. He’s turned the way he came from presumably to go back to the coffee shop, and you’re standing there for the longest time wondering what to even do. You’re annoyed and angry, though it’s simmered down to just being incredibly confused. You stare at the dark blue fabric in your grasp, probably far too large for you and for just a moment, you consider it. You consider it until voices in the hall snap you out of your own stupidity.

“Yikes, what the hell happened there?” Hyunjae seems far from impressed, his clothing perfectly neat and ironed against his toned body, and you can feel the judgement from his eyes that makes you frown. You were being judged for your appearance and that cut deeper than anything else could.

“Changmin bumped into me,” you cross your arms over your chest, letting the darker borrowed fabric dangle over your forearm while he shares a look with Younghoon.

Younghoon was unbelievably beautiful yet so high-strung and pretentious that you couldn’t bare being near him most of the time. It was fitting, of course, that he’d be friends with Juyeon and Hyunjae in particular. You’d thought that out of the two of them, he’d be judging you far more for your ruined top but instead it seemed to be the man you’d consider yourself more close to, “look, I know it’s bad. I’ll probably call it a day.”

“Callin’ it a day this early?”

“Younghoon, do you not see what I look like?”

“Oh, I definitely see it,” that one stings. It really cuts, because it feels like a direct insult towards your appearance. Like he’s confirming what you’re already thinking. You’re unattractive and sloppy, with no effort invested in yourself. You look cheap.

Biting back with an insult is usually what you did best. It’s what you wanted to do now, to tell him to go to hell and leave you alone because you knew you were better than him. Yet you couldn’t, because something in you was threatening to break, like a vial with the sadness you were suppressing and all that was left to do was cry.

And you would not be caught crying in front of Lee Jaehyun and Kim Younghoon. Never.

“Fuck you,” you push past him with your usual aggressive tone, the one he was probably used to hearing and used to ignoring much the same, letting you leave without much of a fight.

You were a good student. You could miss a day, it wouldn’t kill you and you doubt your parents would even notice your absence here at all. If they did, you could blame it on feeling sick, but you weren’t staying here any longer today. You’d study at home, but at least you’d be at home.

Your cat greets you with an unimpressed gaze as you enter the front door, staring at you from the overhead railing above on the second floor. It’s like seeing a reflection of yourself, and maybe it’s intentional. Maybe she mirrors you, or maybe she’s just an asshole.

Chanhee loved her. She liked him, though. A lot more than you. She tolerated you, you supposed.

“Quit staring at me,” it’s not that you didn’t like her. She was a pretty ragdoll, elegant with bright blue eyes and you took care of her. But she was also a bit of a diva. Your best friend would simply say she took after you, and maybe he was right.

You’re standing fully naked in your bathroom after a long shower, wondering if you should put on this damn hoodie that’s practically mocking you at the end of your bed where you’d lazily thrown it. It was tempting you, not because it was Changmin’s but because it looked cosy and honestly, you didn’t really care if this one got messy. You could lounge with relaxed shoulders because you didn’t have to think about getting something on your clothes, because they weren’t yours to begin with.

Your body was completely dry by the time you decide to wear it and you’d been right in assuming it would be comfortable. It was long, which made sense, given that it had been big on Changmin too. It was cosy but no longer with the warmth from earlier. The only traces of Changmin came from his cologne.

And it was nice. It smelled like a mixture of rain and the burning of wood in a fireplace in the winter. Maybe pinecone. You weren’t sure, but it wasn’t overbearing to your senses. You could smell it, it was noticeable, but it didn’t make you shrink away in disgust. It wasn’t too much, just enough, and you liked it.

You wondered what it was he wore.

Chanhee would probably know. He practically swam in perfumes and colognes (mostly perfumes) and he could probably pinpoint it. But you were not about to ask him to smell Changmin’s hoodie for you. That would be humiliating to you, and you’d had enough humiliation lately to last you for at least a decade.

Assuming you made it that far.

You’d developed what you considered a bad habit. It wasn’t the parties or the drugs or Juyeon that you were worried about, but your growing comfort of wearing that godforsaken oversized hoodie at home.

Maybe if it had belonged to Chanhee or Juyeon, or even Younghoon at this point, it would not have felt so shameful. But it belonged to someone you barely considered acquainted, and it was definitely someone you didn’t and would never grow to like.

Chanhee had found out about it a week after you’d first taken the item of clothing hostage in your home. He’d come by when it was pouring rain with five bottles of wine and the remainder of your cocaine from your ex and in your drunken drugged-out state you’d confessed that what you were wearing wasn’t even yours. Property of Ji Changmin, you’d called it, before downing another huge amount of the bottle you were holding.

Your best friend’s first question was to ask if you fucked him. You hadn’t, of course, and you were honest in your protest. It hadn’t ever crossed your mind, at least not at that point. As attractive as Changmin was even in your judgemental eyes, you hadn’t thought about it.

Well, up until that point, anyway.

“I wonder what his cock is like…” Chanhee nearly spits his wine back out. He’d heard worse from you. In his opinion, he knew far too much about your sex life from back when you were with Juyeon, but it’s not like he was a prude. He could talk about sex, even in detail, but about Changmin?

“I think you’ve had en- hey!”

You down the rest of the third bottle, the one Chanhee had just been holding and he sighs and reaches to open the next one, away from your thieving fingers.

“It’s just a curious little question,” because you know that Chanhee is the only person in the world you can really ask this to. Chanhee is probably the only person in the world that you think shows genuine concern for you.

“I’ve never thought about it,” neither have I.

The conversation died quite quickly, maybe because Chanhee had no interest in discussing what Changmin might look like naked. You didn’t entirely blame him. Maybe you were just horny. Maybe you should call Juyeon.

It was a back-and-forth cycle, one that never ended, and maybe that’s what Juyeon expected. He always expected you to come crawling back either way because somehow, you always did. Tonight though, while Chanhee seemed to be sound asleep next to you, you refused to run to Juyeon. You wanted sex, but you did not want to have your tail between your legs knocking at his door and begging for it.

Staring at the ceiling was your attempt at tiring your body out to go to sleep but it wasn’t happening. Maybe it was the coke (probably), but you were so frustrated and you wanted to have an orgasm. Honestly, any drunker and you might’ve just asked Chanhee.

You did not just think about fucking your best friend.

So maybe there was some truth to the assumption that you and Chanhee had sex.

What was sex with Chanhee like?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mumble out loud, ready to just give up, admit defeat and go to Juyeon after all, but Chanhee’s voice interrupts you.

“What now?”

“You’re awake?”

“I had more coke than you, of course I’m awake,” your best friend snarls, though the intentions aren’t cruel. He’s probably just as frustrated as you, maybe more, because Chanhee loves his sleep and if he didn’t get it, he always found himself incredibly grumpy.

“I need to fuck,” you relent, throwing your pillow over your head.

“Call your precious Juju,” Chanhee answers, shuffling around before you feel his eyes staring at you.

“It’s Juyeon. And I’m not going to call him. His dick is mediocre at best,” you remove the pillow to look at your best friend and for a moment you feel unfairly sad for how pretty he is. Why couldn’t you so effortlessly, even in a drug-induced tipsy state, look so beautiful?

“Which is why you keep going back to it, got it.”

“Shut up…” Chanhee shuffles again and it takes you a whole five seconds to register that he’s on top of you, looking down at you with a frown on his face. You know that look. It’s pity and hurt for his best friend and it makes you feel even smaller.

“Quit being sad. Let’s order some food and we can forget about it.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t gain weight from eating at ungodly hours,” you catch him wanting to roll his eyes but you can tell he stops himself, maybe because he knows your weight is something you’re genuinely not secure about.

“Incorrect. I actually gained weight recently,” the scoff that leaves your lips is out of your control and you shake your head in amusement instead, but it’s more mocking.

“Yeah? Well, let me know when it’s actually visible. You’re perfect Chanhee.”

“So are you,” he lays a hand over your lips before the protest he clearly knew was coming, and you simply give up. You give up because you know you’ll both go in circles and given your current state, you’re very likely going to end up in tears. The alcohol had worn off, but it was still in your system and you were definitely upset enough to have a meltdown.

“Do you think Juyeon thought so too?”

“I think he’s an idiot if he didn’t. And I think you’ve had way too much tonight, because if you were sober you’d never even consider that question. Y/N doesn’t care,” but do you want to care?

There was no justifiable reason to care about Juyeon’s opinion, but you did. He ran in a well-respected social circle that you found yourself a part of, and you really didn’t want your reputation to dwindle. It was already dwindling just for the hoodie you wore and shame washed over you again for even wearing it.

You wished more than anything in the world in that moment that you could tell him you appreciated it, but you weren’t very good at expressing yourself with emotions that were deep and sweet. Things that made you vulnerable were impossible to face, you’d hit a wall until you avoided it all together. You were avoiding it now, the love you had for your best friend, because you simply couldn’t face the vulnerability that came with doing something so genuine in its feelings.

Understanding how to love was hard, learning to confess it was impossible, even platonically.

“Goodnight.”

It was raining heavily when you got into the main building, pushing the hood of your jacket down as you approached the left hallway. You were somewhat late, leaving everything deserted and empty aside from a few scattered students. In truth, you’d been up far too late the night before, overthinking. Hovering over Juyeon’s contact was once more a beautifully stupid temptation.

You felt obsessed and lacking control, and you hated it.

“Little doll,” your heels stop, turning sharply to the sound of a voice you wish wasn’t so familiar. The fact that you could pinpoint who it belonged to was incredibly frustrating, for in your mind it meant you knew Changmin too well, “where’s my hoodie?”

“Keep your voice down,” you hiss, grabbing his sleeve and sharply turning a corner into a deserted hall with one dark mahogany door leading into the auditorium. No one ever came here, “what the fuck are you trying to do?”

“Get your talon claws off me- ouch!” You dug into his skin before pulling away, making him glare at you sharply with discontent similar to your own. Changmin didn’t hide his displeasure of your presence and yet he’d sought it out.

“I want my hoodie. Or are you going to deny me of something that is mine?”

“You ruined mine,” you bite back, but he doesn’t care. He rolls his eyes and you have to suppress a sharp scoff as you move to sit on the windowsill, enough room to do so in marbled gorgeous stone that you’re far too tempted to bash Changmin’s head against.

“I apologised. Have you ever apologized for anything, by the way? You don’t seem to know how to do that,” crossing your arms, you lean up to see his eyes. They’re harsh, a dark brown that holds no real mirth. He looks at you like you mean nothing of value, like you’re beneath him and the realization makes you sharply stand back up to match his height with your heels. Actually, you might even be taller.

“I’m waiting for my replacement.”

You lied. In truth, there was a certain comfort in wearing it that you didn’t find with any of your own clothes. Maybe it was the length or how it sat over your skin. Maybe it was the softness of fabric or the initial smell of cologne that had since faded. Whatever it was, it made you want to curl up, but not in sadness, rather in contentment.

“It’s been two weeks. Possibly more, actually,” but as annoyed as Changmin was, a part of him looked like he wasn’t going to push any harder. It was his final attempt at getting it back, but he didn’t seem to be too displeased if he wouldn’t get it at all. That thought in itself confused you.

“I’m aware, thank you.”

“She knows her thanks. How endearing of you, doll,” doll. Again, there it was, flowing past his lips unbothered and gently, almost meaningless. The words didn’t hold weight to them, not for him, but for you, they felt constrictive. They felt like something you desired to hear, what you wanted to strive for in appearance, becoming the impossible similarly to how you viewed your best friend, and Changmin was handing it to you on a silver platter.

You just wouldn’t take it from him.

“Just keep it then, I really can’t be asked to chase after you.”

“What?”

Fuck. You hadn’t managed to hide your surprise and now he’d caught it, seeming almost amused as he leaned against the wall and watched you. He was dressed casually, as you’d always seen him to be, lazy even, but you couldn’t deny the comfort he probably felt in comparison to you. You, dressed in a short skirt and a top sat so tight on your skin, it was about to cut into flesh, heels high and digging into your ankle with your weight.

“Keep it. It’ll be a nice change of pace from… well… this,” he gestured, and your jaw nearly hit the floor.

“What the fuck is- Changmin!”

He was walking away from you, and you damn near couldn’t believe it. Changmin was walking away from you, ignoring you, insulting you, and you had no words for it.

“Changmin!”

“Careful, you wouldn’t want people to hear that we know each other, right?”

He’d caught you there. Stopped you right in his tracks because he was right. You were chasing after him, and the question was why? When had chasing after him ever become worth it to you? Since when did you want to prove a point to him. Since when did anything he thought matter?

You stood there, left in the hall like an abandoned, wounded frail animal, and he didn’t care. The question was, why suddenly did you? The temptation to chase him, to justify yourself and have him take back those sharp insults was near overwhelming, enough so that you debated skipping your first class altogether in favour for a cigarette and maybe a beer from the convenience store to calm your nerves.

Maybe you’d just go home.

“You still haven’t given it back?”

Chanhee interrupts your peaceful start to lunch on a bench outside beneath the overhang to shield from the light rain and you glare the minute he appears. You chip at your nails that need refilling urgently and he stops you with a hold of the wrist, making you stare back at him with a sigh, “how’d you find that out?”

“I saw it at your place this morning when I went looking for you.”

“You were looking for me?”

Had you made plans that you’d forgotten about? Maybe you’d agreed to drive to campus together, but if that had been the case, you couldn’t remember it.

“Thought if you were late we could have some breakfast on the way,” silence follows first, the wind blowing strands of hair in your face that you push away behind your ear, “I’m not judging.”

“Aren’t you? Why then bring it up?”

“I guess I’m curious. If you’re fucking-”

“I’m not. I already told you.”

“Yeah, I know, but I also know if you were, you’d probably feel like you can’t tell me. I don’t want you to think that.”

He was right. That was the worst of it, how well he knew you, truly, even with limited words spoken or a stoic expression, he could still tell. It did bother you, that you had tells. You wished nothing more to be the heartless bitch those who were strangers to you, assumed you were. Truth be told, you were heartless as an illusion to shield yourself from the reality of loneliness and isolation that came with maintaining the life you desired and wanted.

“We’re not. I’ll give it back to him. Just… haven’t had time,” or you keep intentionally forgetting it. Both are simultaneously true. It’s either not having the time to do so or conveniently going without it.

“You know… I don’t think he has really many friends.”

“Is that my problem?” Chanhee shakes his head, his lips frowning and he seems annoyed with you, like you’re too stupid to get the point and you nearly feel insulted. He was trying to tell you something without any words, and you failed to understand it.

And as if all the gods worked against you on this day, the man in question stood before you both, appearing almost as if out of thin air, his steps so light he felt weightless.

“Give me your hoodie. The one I so graciously ruined,” his tone, it was mocking you. He was speaking the way you would, but with a certain vanity and uptightness that made you grimace.

“Changmin,” your best friend acknowledged with a little nod of the head, biting his lip as he went to grab his purse and leave the awkward tension he’d stumbled into entirely without meaning to, but you grabbed his arm and pulled him right back down to sit.

“I’ll fix it.”

“Yeah, fucking right you will,” he crosses his arms first before moving his fingers up to adjust his glasses, and you note now how slender they are while adorned by silver metals. They’re almost graceful and delicate, shockingly so and you have to blink away and adjust your vision to snap out of it.

“It’s ruined, no? So either you keep it that way, or you risk me ruining it more trying to fix it. Both scenarios, you’re fucked.”

“His logic isn’t wrong.”

“Shut up, Chanhee.”

“So it’s not just me that you’re a tyrannical bitch to?” Chanhee coughed back a laugh, hiding the smile behind his hand and you felt ganged up on. You felt like your best friend was on the wrong side and it stung at your chest, making your heart clench as if it was constricting every part of you. Changmin seemed so effortlessly good at making you feel crazy, but it was worse when you felt like the person meant to be on your team was laughing because of the opposing side. He was humoured, at your expense.

And it hurt. It stung, far more than it maybe should.

“You don’t get to call her that. You want to fix her hoodie? Then do so. But don’t call her names you wouldn’t even use to refer to your own dog.”

Changmin narrows his eyes, intense in his gaze enough so that you cast yours away, his humour gone. You’ve never really been one to cower under eye contact, but it was the way in which he stared back at Chanhee that brought you unease and wariness.

For someone who looked quite gentle, maybe even kind, he seemed to hide a more dark intimidating side that you weren’t so sure you’d ever really come in contact with, despite the many times you’d thrown and insult or two his way.

“You’re right. I’m sorry little doll. Bring me that hoodie tomorrow, and I’ll see what the fairy godmother can whip up for me,” he was mocking you again. Blatantly. Without any regard for your feelings and it chipped at you. Things like this shouldn’t bother you. They didn’t bother you, so why did this? Changmin had a way of crawling under your skin, of settling deep into your veins and creating a constant sense of emotional turbulence to your feelings.

“Hey, do you wanna-”

You surely weren’t the little doll that Changmin referred to you as. A nickname that still tormented you because the question simply became why?

When you dig out the white hoodie from deep within your overflowing laundry basket, you briefly debate if it’s worth it. You could afford to go to the dry cleaner yourself, he couldn’t, and yet it was more about proving a point of exactly that. A spiteful, vindictive, evil little point, but one nevertheless. He ruined it, so he could fix it. You reap what you sow.

But the longer you stared at the offensive fabric, the more it felt pointless. You weren’t really sure what you were trying to prove, if anything at all. Aside from maybe the fact that he was worlds beneath you, that he’d never be like you, and that something as simple as going to the dry cleaners was somehow proof that you were better than him.

When you near shove the fabric against his chest the following day without even a hello, he seems used to it. Changmin doesn’t blink, barely budges or loses his footing, doesn’t really question it either. In a way, he was used to you.

In a way, you became used to his indifference, too.

It took a while. Days turned into a few good weeks and you were almost convinced that Changmin had ruined your hoodie entirely. That you’d never see it because he’d turned to some at home DIY of cleaning a stained white fabric and now it was done for.

And in those weeks, you’d felt like nothing was in your control. Younghoon had found a way to insult you twice, once with Juyeon standing right there. Though he’d stepped in and defended you, it seemed half-assed. As if he was trying to be diplomatic but his words weren’t with real meaning. It was yet another reminder that you and Juyeon lacked much real care for each other. You wondered if he ever really did, or if the doomed relationship you’d had with almost pure sex and unsober thoughts had always just been one-sided.

You were very certain, especially now, that Juyeon never loved you. But you could still care for someone without loving them, and yet you were starting to wonder if you’d meant so little that he hadn’t even cared. It made you question why you’d been in a relationship at all, if not just for the similar bank balances and the sex you’d once deemed good enough to satisfy you.

At one point, it had been good. You and Juyeon had been far from perfect, but it had worked. It had worked until it didn’t, and when it didn’t, it really didn’t. Deciding to be friends had been easy at the time, the consequences were barely existing because you still got to fuck him when either of you pleased, and yet now it all seemed to sink in in a far aftermath. It worked on delay, and your tumultuous feelings threatened to tumble over the moment Juyeon simply tried to keep the peace between you and Younghoon.

It had nearly made you cry, but you straightened your posture and adjusted your hair with a smile on your face as you thanked him instead and sent Younghoon a look that told him you hated him just as much, you just wouldn’t say it. Why you hated each other, you couldn’t quite say. Aside from his arrogance and way of looking at you like you were a whore on the streets and sending daggers at you in the form of words that were sometimes so smartly phrased, you were almost envious that you hadn’t come up with them yourself.

On top of Younghoon’s insults, Juyeon making you feel less loved and Chanhee and you being in a strange little place of not really talking but sharing glances almost to ask if the other was okay, Hyunjae had also run your way with the offer of an invitation to a party.

A perfect distraction. A much-needed one, definitely. You needed to unwind, desperately, to get really drunk and find a one-night stand that you’d wake up without and barely remember the next day. You would’ve loved to get it all out of your system while not thinking of any of them.

You should’ve known better than to assume things would go as planned.

It was one thing for Changmin to show up at Hyunjae’s house without an invite, though Hyunjae tended to be kind and hospitable in that regard unless he absolutely hated someone or if they’d wronged him in some way. Changmin had done neither.

It was a whole other thing for Juyeon to grab your wrist so harshly it bruised your skin, his fingers wrapped around as he stung the surface. You were shocked at first, mostly because Juyeon was a lot of things but aggressive in that regard was rare, but when you looked up into his eyes and saw a genuinely angry gaze, you didn’t really understand.

“Why is Changmin outside asking for you?”

“Don’t touch her like that!” Chanhee was smaller than Juyeon, both fairly slim in build but a difference in height and muscle mass that just made your best friend that much smaller in appearance, and yet he stepped between you two anyway. Chanhee was never really afraid of anything, even if he could get his ass kicked, and it was as admirable as it was stupid.

“I asked you a question.”

“I don’t know,” it was weak, but it was honest, and Juyeon let your wrist go but you were more thinking it had something to do with Hyunjae standing on the opposite side of Chanhee, ready to defend you too. It almost shocked you more, for Juyeon and Hyunjae were incredibly close, had been for years and even before you were in the picture, and yet here it didn’t seem to matter when you felt unsafe.

“Tell me why!”

“I said I don’t know, Juyeon!”

Silence. At least around you both, everything fell quiet. The music was still loud but those within ear shot had caught you both raising your voices, and now you were left having to keep appearances. Acting like nothing was wrong was something you were usually good at. Not caring is something you could do, but when everything threatened to topple over and one thing finally pushed your feelings over the edge to do so, it was hard to simply ignore it.

“I can go to him,” Hyunjae offers, but you stop him the second he takes a step with your hand to his chest.

“It’s fine. I’ll just go,” honestly, it was already a nightmare that he was asking for you so publicly at a party with so many people, but maybe if you played your cards right, it wouldn’t look so bad on your part. You weren’t friends, after all, so you supposed it wouldn’t appear to be that way. Sure, people could be fooled, but only if you played a viable part in it, and you wouldn’t.

Walking outside was a mistake. But when you realised it to be one, it was too late. Turning back might be worse, but walking towards Changmin wasn’t better. He was standing there, completely wet from the rain in a jacket that had no hood. You bit back from calling him stupid, moreso because you’d left your jacket inside entirely and it was cold. Despite the goosebumps on your skin, you refused to show discomfort, collecting yourself with a straightened posture in your short dress.

You stood tall, heels high enough that he was actually a little shorter than you, though it was only really noticeable because you were right in front of each other.

“I brought it for you,” the white garment is neatly folded between his fingers, and you note their softness, that they seem gentle to touch but you snap yourself away from the thought once you notice yourself having it.

“You brought it for me… here?”

You sound more ungrateful than you are. It’s the first time you actually reprimand yourself for the rude tone towards him because it’s not deserved this time, but you don’t quite take it back, reaching for the fabric slowly before you let it fall open to reveal a hoodie that looks good as new.

There’s no way in hell he did that himself.

“You can stop bothering me now,” he lights a cigarette, indifferent and suddenly the insulting tone you’d spoken in doesn’t feel as mean, for he doesn’t seem to care much. If he does, he’s very good at hiding it, to the point of being so good at it that you don’t believe it possible.

“Thanks,” all you can think about is how cold you are now, especially when the fabric is partially warm from where he’d held it and the fact that you know how comfortable this hoodie is. But you were at a party and it would fall awkwardly over your dress. You didn’t want to look awkward, so you choose to be cold instead.

“You should wear it. You’ll get sick,” you send a look his way, confused as a pout falls over your stained lips but again, he seems indifferent. He really, genuinely, doesn’t seem to care.

It drives you insane.

You want to say something, take the chance for once to not be rude and maybe try again to thank him because as frustrating as he is, he was kind enough to get it sorted for you, after weeks of back and forth and refusal of giving him his own hoodie back. Overall, maybe Changmin did show you kindness, albeit very terribly.

“I’d like mine back now,” you supposed that was fair, but the little candle of lit warmth faded to ashes because Changmin simply didn’t stop there. He bit back, and he did so hard in a way you knew to do, but weren’t prepared for now “but if you’d like I can wait. I’m sure you have Juyeon’s dick to ride first.”

The crushing blow to your chest feels foreign. It was something expected to hear yet not from him. Maybe as a joke from Chanhee or an insult from Younghoon, but not him. You weren’t sure why. Neither of you showed much kindness to each other and you couldn’t exactly say you’d expected him to be graceful in speaking to you, but you’d wished it.

“Fuck you.”

It’s an absolutely terrible idea to do as Changmin said. You know it, yet you storm off now wet from the rain to go inside and find the very person that would be a mistake. You know he’s a mistake. He’d left insulting bruises on your wrist just minutes ago and yet you find him in the kitchen pouring another mix of alcohol that has you convinced he’s at least reached a point where the alcohol no longer has to taste good to be drunk.

“Fuck me,” he turns, eyes sharp and dark but also just a hint of confusion.

“What?”

“Do I have to say it again?”

Juyeon shakes his head, a smirk appearing on his lips instead as he downs the little he’d managed to mix so far in his cup. You followed his gaze to a bottle of whiskey that was nearly empty and you reached for the puddle of golden brown liquid to down it, his eyes on you the entire time as you did so.

He waits for you to put the glass down and when you’ve done so, he lifts you up with his hands digging into the back of your upper thigh, the skirt of your dress rising so high you use your hoodie to cover up where your skin is revealed. This was already a mistake, you knew it to be so deep down, but you didn’t care.

Maybe you wanted to somehow prove that Juyeon did care about you. Or maybe you just wanted to spite Changmin. Maybe you just needed sex because your libido was high and you weren’t having enough of it.

Maybe it was all three.

You don’t know which bedroom you’re in but Juyeon is lazy in shutting the door, nearly forgetting to do so before he kicks it shut with the back of his foot. He’s quick to kiss you, sloppy and wet as you drop the clean white hoodie to the floor, discarding it just as Juyeon works on lifting the frustratingly tight fabric up to your hips.

“You’re not wearing underwear?”

You shake your head, wriggling out of the straps of your dress to push it down over your now bare chest, the little fabric on your body all bunched up above your ass and below your chest. You were essentially naked, and yet not quite, wrapping your legs around Juyeon’s waist as he fell on top of you and kissed you back.

You loved kissing. Especially when it was rough and desperate. Necessary like oxygen that you breathed. You loved Juyeon’s kisses, the way he bit your lower lip and roughly rocked against you, though the fabric of his pants against your bare thighs was rough and made you whine in frustration and discomfort.

At least Juyeon wasn’t entirely stupid in realising what the problem was, maybe usually willing and eager to tease and take his time a little more but now he was stripping himself bare so that the friction against both your warm skins wouldn’t hurt for you.

“What the hell did he want?”

You cursed. You cursed because you did not need to think about Changmin when Juyeon’s dick was right there, and yet he’d asked the question. He sounded bitter, angry, but not quite jealous. Maybe if it had been jealousy, you would’ve been okay with it.

“Was just giving me back the hoodie he ruined,” your hand wraps around his cock, stroking him lazily as he inhales sharply, a rough moan right by your ear before he bites down on your neck. Harder than you’re used to, but not enough to fully hurt.

Your body was used to his cock. You realise it more because when he pushes into you, the sting is sharp but easy to adjust to. The first time you’d had sex with Juyeon, you’d needed way more time and he’d given it to you. But now it was second nature and your body knew him. Your body clung to him, desperate to hold.

“You’re such a whiny little whore, d’you know that?”

If the dick wasn’t good, you’d slap him. Though you supposed he wasn’t saying it entirely without reasoning. You were whiny. That, and you were loud, unintentionally so as he picked up the pace, gripping your hip with his free hand to slam into you, your breasts pushing up from the force as your head tilted back in pleasure.

Sex with Juyeon was lazy, definitely without much care but it was good for what it was. He was rough and careless but you trusted him to never hurt you, and if he ever unintentionally did you knew he’d stopped if you asked. You trusted him, despite all his flaws, to see you like this, with your body near bare and vulnerable to him and anything he wished as he spread your legs and pushed you into the mattress.

It was natural and comforting, to find repetition in your behaviour with Juyeon. It was nice when things didn’t change, because change was something that didn’t find you very content.

“H-harder- ah-” your back arches just slightly, and Juyeon takes that moment to wrap both his hands on the side of your hips, digging his nails into the skin as he obeys your demand, your legs clinging to him. The sound of skin roughly meeting repeatedly is loud and penetrating, only covered by the vulgarity of the noises you make. If it weren’t for the loud music yet again, you’re sure everyone could hear you.

Changmin. Could he hear you?

The very thought of him pushes the orgasm you’d initially been building away, because you’re shocked. Why is he in your thoughts so suddenly, with his warm comforting hoodie over his skin that seemed so soft, with a far gentler touch than Juyeon’s?

Not that you minded Juyeon’s touch, but you imagined Changmin’s to be different, even if it might be rough.

You imagined his glasses slipping from behind his ears as he hovered over you, and you wondered if he’d try to adjust them first or if you’d eventually just take them off for him, lay them somewhere to the side while spreading your legs for him.

You wondered what it was like, very briefly, to run your hands through his dark hair and tug on it harshly as he fucked into you, his heavy breaths against your ear as you both shook in a joint orgasm as he came inside you.

You wondered what it was like, how different he was from Juyeon and if so, if it was better.

You can’t quite catch your tongue fast enough when your orgasm grows, not with your thoughts overlapping and twisting in your head and making you wonder about someone you’d never want near you this intimately. Or did you?

“C-Changmin- fuck!”

Your nails dig so hard into Juyeon’s back that you know there will be moonlike crevices on his skin, scratching down into a jagged line as your body shakes, your legs unstable and locked against the man who’s completely still. He’s unmoving, completely, and it takes you another moment of recollection to realise Juyeon didn’t finish.

You can’t say you blame him, when realisation and embarrassment and utter humiliation covers your crimson cheeks. Of all the names, you chose the worst offender. And despite alcohol being in your system, you knew you couldn’t blame it on that.

You’d just committed social suicide to a man you knew wouldn’t keep his mouth shut when he was hurt. And you could tell on his face that there was a pain in his eyes that even you couldn’t say you recognised. He felt insulted, and when you went to move up on the bed to reach him, he pushed off you so fast you thought he detested you.

“Don’t touch me,” it was stern, his tone so cold that you thought he hated you. Juyeon very well could and you weren’t so sure you could blame him. You knew if he’d done this to you, said someone else’s name, that it would cut a wound into you that would never go away and every thought of am I enough would threaten to break you.

You watched in an almost entranced state, the way he picked up all his clothes, and your few attempts at adjusting yourself and walking towards him failed because he slapped your hand away every time.

“Ju- I’m sorry. It’s not what… I- Juyeon.”

He stops, picking up your white hoodie off the floor and shoving it against your chest similarly to how you’d done the same with Changmin when you gave it to him, and it cut you all over again.

“Let me guess, you left this at his house when you let him fuck you?”

You were shocked. Of course you knew it wasn’t true but how could you prove it? Yet your silence was Juyeon’s answer. His assumption that he was right as he bitterly scoffed and rolled his eyes at you like he loathed you.

“I hope you truly end up miserable, Y/N. You deserve it, at this point,” the door slams loud and Juyeon’s gone, leaving you bare and vulnerable and so very lost as the very idea of your social circle and status dwindling into pieces, shattering beneath your feet, becomes a frightening reality to you. Everything you worked on attaining, on creating a you that everyone would envy and want, was potentially threatened with a secret that only you and him knew.

A secret that would ruin you, and you knew well that he loved to run his mouth where it gained him sympathy.

All you could do, was stand still naked with your hoodie covering you just enough in case someone came in, and yet no one did, not for a while.

You were well and truly alone.

act ii

taglist: @sanaxo-o @mosviqu @sunramzi @tbzhubrecs

let me know if you wanna be on the taglist 🩵comments are always appreciated

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©️strayed-quokka, please do not steal, translate, reuse or rewrite as your own

#okay first of all #lenlen wrote this for me #and I will always be the biggest babydoll enthusiast #like it’s my child you guys #and honestly I cannot fucking wait for the next part because lenlen here decided to leave it on a cliffhanger #like omfg it’s so serious for me #I already knew that the reader was going to moan out JiChangs name and that Juyeon was going to be a pesky little bitch about it #but I definitely didn’t expect for lenlen to leave it on a cliffhanger #I feel a little bad for the reader because I finally got a more insight on her character #but then again I still find her stupid for her further choices (which you told me about)#honestly Younghoon could tone down a bit of his attitude and learn a thing or two from Hyunjae but definitely not Juyeon 🙄#anyways I love love love babydoll and will always love it #minors dni #group: the boyz #member: changmin #artist: strayed quokka #fic rec: babydoll #readers fav recommendation‼️

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yellowsuitcase · 4 years ago

Text

Pansy’s Plot // Draco Malfoy

Request: hi there!! I just wanted to say i absolutely adore your writing, and was wondering if you could write something where the reader and draco are dating but pansy is jealous so she lies and makes draco think you cheated on him but in actual fact you didnt and it’s just super angsty and then fluffy. The prompts i chose were 94, 85, 55, 14, 1 and 34 of course i don’t mind at all if you don’t want to use them or leave a few out :)

A/N: Hello! Sorry this took so long to get written, but I wanted to make sure it was good so I took my time. Also, my arthritis was making writing a very painful process, with that being said, I likely won’t post anything else this week until the weekend because I need to rest my hand. But I hope you enjoy this and to the person who requested, I hope it’s everything you wanted! Side note, I did change some of the prompts to fit the story and I didn’t use 55.

Summary: Pansy tricks Draco into believing his girlfriend (Y/N) cheated on him with Blaise. Angst and fluff follow.

Warning(s): Swearing, physical beating up/hitting, non-consensual kissing/touching

Word Count: 4.6k

Prompts (list): 1, 14, 34, 85, 99

Y/N trudged into the Great Hall, looking miserable. She’d just had the worst potions class of her life. Snape had been teaching them how to make a memory potion, but she had mistakenly added the powdered sage before the stewed mandrake, causing the brew to bubble violently and splatter her Slytherin robes with putrid yellow liquid. It didn’t help that along with having unflattering stains, she now smelled like rotten roses.

As she dragged herself to the Slytherin table, she felt stares on the back of her head. She rolled her eyes and positioned her chin over her shoulder, instantly zeroing in on the Ravenclaw boy who was pointing his thumb at her and laughing with his mates. With a discreet flick of her fir wood wand, Y/N sent the boy’s noodles flying onto his face with a loud splat. She smirked to herself while tucking her wand back into her pocket. She continued walking and took her place at the table next to her boyfriend.

“Hello, Draco,” she said sweetly as she plopped down onto the bench. Her boyfriend looked up from his meal.

“Bloody hell, Y/N. Where have you been? And what happened to you?” he asked, his face scrunching up in disgust. It took everything in his willpower not to slide away from his potion covered girlfriend.

“Sorry, I’m a bit late. I fucked up in potions. Don’t worry, though, I’ll get cleaned up after I have my lunch. Besides, I hardly see you anymore with O.W.Ls coming up. I didn’t want to skip out on you,” she explained, shifting her gaze from the food in front of her to Draco's distasteful looking face.

“What, Malfoy? You don’t like the smell of a failed memory potion?” she questioned while playfully leaning closer to him. Draco couldn’t take it anymore; he scrambled to scoot away from her. This made Y/N begin to giggle. She pushed her head behind her ear and batted her eyelids mockingly.

“Why won’t you give me a kiss, love?” she asked with pouty lips, her hands making grabbing motions at the blonde boy. He opened his mouth to speak but was promptly interrupted by a snooty voice from across the table.

“Perhaps it’s because you smell worse than a dirty house-elf, Y/N,” sneered Pansy Parkinson, a dark-haired Slytherin girl who was particularly nasty. Draco watched as Y/N’s back straightened, and her angry eyes flickered to the hard-faced girl. He knew this look well, considering she’d given it to him quite a few times throughout their two-year relationship. If it had been anyone else receiving Y/N’s glare, he might’ve felt a bit scared for them. But this was Pansy, and not many were fond of her.

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Parkinson. But please, by all means, let’s hear your thoughts. Frankly, I didn’t think you had any up in that empty head of yours,” Y/N retorted, her voice calm and collected. Pansy’s face went redder than a tomato. She angrily stood up from her seat, leaving her untouched sandwich sitting on the table as she stormed out of the hall, her hair swishing behind her.

Y/N scoffed. “What a wanker. Honestly, hasn’t she got anything better to do?” she questioned, voicing her irritation. Draco slid close to his girlfriend and gently put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them firmly. He felt the tension begin to leave her muscles.

“Don’t let her get to you, love. It’s only Parkinson. Since when did you get so worked up over what she says?” Draco asked.

Y/N remained silent. Truth be told, Pansy had been tormenting her for nearly a month now. Her usual snide remarks had never caused much of a ruse within Y/N before, but that was until she’d started attacking her and Draco’s relationship. Whenever Y/N would say goodnight to Draco and head up to the girls’ dormitory, she would be greeted by Pansy sitting next to her snotty friends. They’d sit on their beds and snicker when Y/N walked in. They’d always say things like, “You know, Draco only likes you because you’re easy,” or “He pities you, Y/N.” Not to mention all the times they'd called her a slag. At first, she was able to ignore it. But after numerous weeks of hearing such degrading and hurtful words, she’d begun to believe them.

Telling Draco wasn’t an option. Y/N was ashamed; she didn’t want Draco to be disappointed in her for letting Pansy get to her. The look on his face if she told him would be too much to stomach.

“Y/N? What’s wrong, babydoll?” Draco asked. His girlfriend’s silence was concerning him. Y/N turned to him and forced a smile onto her lips. “Nothing,” she assured him, “I’m fine.”

Draco looked skeptical but dismissed his worry and leaned in for a quick kiss. Y/N kissed him back, but after a few moments, she pulled away. “I’d better go get cleaned up before Transfiguration. McGonagall wouldn’t be pleased if I came in like this,” she laughed while gesturing to her soiled uniform. Draco smiled and nodded.

“I’ll see you in the common room after dinner, yeah?” he asked as Y/N stood up from the table and pushed her hair out of her face. She willed herself to look up and shake her head, yes. Her boyfriend still looked apprehensive. “See you then,” she choked out as she spun on her foot and made haste to leave the Great Hall.

--------

Later in the school day, Y/N was leaving her last class, Herbology, and was walking through the mysteriously empty corridors, the thought of a relaxing bath filling her head, when she ran smack into someone. She nearly toppled over from the impact, but the person she’d bumped into quickly seized her arm and pulled her close to their chest. Y/N instantly felt uncomfortable and pushed herself off of the tall figure. Upon looking up, she saw that Blaise Zabini had been the one to save her ass from hitting the floor. She’d never been one to forgo manners as many other Slytherins did, so she nodded her head and said, “Thanks, Zabini.”

He smirked down at her, his white teeth showing. “No problem, sweetheart,” he purred. A cold shudder ran down Y/N’s spine. She didn’t like this situation one bit; however, when she tried to distance herself and Blaise, he grabbed her upper arm and tugged her towards him. She found herself once again pressed up against the boy’s chest.

“Where you going, babydoll?” he asked. Bile rose up from Y/N’s stomach. When Draco called her babydoll, it was cute, but when the word fell from Blaise’s lips, she felt thoroughly sick. She wiggled her arm, trying desperately to remove it from his grasp. But it was to no avail. His fingers were wrapped around her bicep so firmly she could practically feel the bruises beginning to form.

Y/N continued to struggle against him. “Let go of me, you prat,” she grunted. Blaise didn't heed her words; instead, he stared at something behind her. Y/N looked over her shoulder, but before she had the chance to register who was there, Blaise took her chin in his fingers and forced his lips onto hers. Y/N squealed in shock and tried to use her free arm to push Blaise off. She felt fear overtake her entire body as she fought hard to get out of his clutches. But the boy was too powerful. Luckily for Y/N, she remembered what her father had always told her to do if a male ever tried to violate her. Hit him where it hurts. Without a moment's hesitation, she lifted her foot and rammed her knee into Blaise’s crotch with as much force as she could muster.

He grunted painfully and instantly let go of her, his hands flying to protect his private parts from any further harm. “Fucking bitch!” he yelled. Y/N backed away from him in fear. She was about to run away when she remembered that he had been staring behind her. Y/N turned around to see Pansy holding a camera in one hand and fresh pictures in the other. Her heart raced when she put two and two together. She’d been set up, and she was angry. Y/N whipped out her wand and pointed it at Pansy's head. Wordlessly, she sent the camera and pictures flying from her grasp and into her own. This didn’t please the Slytherin, who took out her own wand and angrily shouted, “Flipendo!” Before Y/N could react, she was sent flying backward, letting the camera and pictures fall from her hands.

When she fell, her head hit the floor hard enough that it bounced. She stayed still as pain pulsed through her entire skull. As she was recovering from the intense blow, Pansy strutted over to her. She laughed as she stood over her and glared down. “Look at you—what a pathetic excuse for a Slytherin. Can’t even properly defend yourself,” she sneered. Y/N, fueled by anger, jumped to her feet and shouted the first spell that came to mind without thinking. “Incarcerous!” Ropes shot from the tip of her wand and wrapped around Pansy’s chest and arms, rendering her defenseless and immobile. Adrenaline was still rushing in her bloodstream when a deep voice called out to her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” it bellowed. Y/N’s heart sank; she recognized that voice to be Severus Snape’s. Sighing, she tucked her wand into her robe and glanced to her left to see the greasy-haired professor. His robe was flowing behind him as he walked rapidly towards her. “Detention,” he declared. Y/N knew better than to argue; the last time she tried, she’d only earned herself another week of writing lines in Snape’s office. After nodding to her potions professor, she turned to go but then spotted the camera. It was in Blaise’s hands. He simply smirked at her and sauntered away.

No, no, no, Y/N thought as her heart sank. She felt as though she was rooted to the stone floor. It was obvious what Pansy and Blaise were planning to do with those photos. They had thought this out; they were going to show them to Draco. After she realized the shit she was in, Y/N knew there was only one thing she could do at this point. Get to Draco before they did.

She bent her knees and took off sprinting through the hallway, determination pumping through her body. But she was stopped short by the sound of her name coming from Snape. Reluctantly and defeatedly, she willed her feet to slow down. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Snape called out to her. Y/N spun around slowly, a grimace plastered to her face. “My dorm,” she said uncertainly; her statement sounded more like a question.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You’ll be coming with me to my office to serve your detention.” Y/N grumbled to herself angrily. She still couldn’t understand why Snape was never as nice to her as he was towards the rest of the Slytherin house. Y/N watched as Snape freed Pansy from her restraints. She got to her feet and thanked her head of house before strolling down the corridor, making sure to leer at Y/N when she passed. The urge to sock her in the jaw was strong, but Y/N refrained and followed after Snape, hoping to get detention over with as soon as possible.

--------

Draco was fiddling with a stray thread on his sweater when Pansy sat down next to him. He gave her a look. Pansy had a devilish smirk on her face. “Hello, Draco,” she cooed. The blonde shifted his weight so that he was farther away from Pansy. “What do you want?” he questioned. “I’m waiting for Y/N.”

Pansy’s head fell back as she let out a shrill laugh. “You won’t give a damn about her once you see this,” she declared cheerfully. Draco looked at her quizzically. “See what?” he hesitantly asked. Pansy wiggled her eyebrows and reached into her pocket. Slowly, she pulled out two pictures and passed one to Draco. His eyes studied her face before they downshifted to the photo in his lap. Draco’s confusion only grew when he saw what the picture was showing. Y/N and Blaise were pressed up against one another. Her hand was touching his chest, and he was caressing her cheek.

“What the fuck is this, Parkinson?” Draco spat violently. Pansy said nothing; she only handed him the second photo. Draco snatched it from her; his breathing stopped when he looked at it. It was a photo of them kissing. Blaise and Y/N had kissed. Draco felt betrayed, deceived, hoodwinked, you name it, he felt it. Questions began to flood his brain. How could she do this? How long had she been seeing Blaise? Was he not good enough for her? Had he done something to upset her? Panic began to rise within Draco.

“She’s been cheating on you for quite some time, Draco. I was going to tell you sooner, but I knew you wouldn’t believe me without proof,” Pansy said sweetly. She tentatively put her hand on Draco’s shoulder and began to rub up and down soothingly. He barely registered her touch as his world began to crumble. His heart was totally and utterly broken. He couldn’t think he couldn’t breathe. Nothing made sense to him at that moment.

“This must be so hard for you, Draco. I’m so sorry. But look on the bright side, now you can get rid of her. You have proof that she cheated. There’s no way she can deny what she did,” Pansy said a little too excitedly. But Draco paid her no mind; his eyes still hadn’t moved from the photographs in his palms.

“Where is she?” he asked through gritted teeth. Pansy sighed dejectedly. “Well, she attacked me in the hallway, but Snape caught her. I suspect she’s still in detention, but—” Pansy was cut off by Draco springing to his feet, the photos in his tight grip. “Where are you going?” she asked him; he was at the door. Without looking back, he said, “To find her.”

“Draco! Wait!” Pansy exclaimed, but Draco was already gone.

Snape’s office wasn’t far; it was in the dungeons along with the Slytherin common room and potions classroom. Draco’s heart was racing as he stormed through the hallways. He had no plan of action; he just knew he had to find her. Millions of possibilities ran through his head, but he didn't stop to ponder any of them. He rounded a corner and felt his breath catch in his throat. There she was. She looked distraught. When her eyes found Draco, she walked towards him immediately. Draco didn’t move from his spot. He let her come to him. When she reached him, she stared at him intently. A few moments of heavy silence passed before she decided to test the waters. “Draco?” she asked hesitantly.

“How long?” he retorted.

“How long? What do you mean?”

“Don’t play fucking dumb, Y/N. How long have you and Blaise been together, huh?”

Y/N’s face paled. “Draco, it is not what it looks like. Whatever Pansy told you isn’t true.”

Draco laughed. “She didn’t tell me. She showed me,” he replied in a strangely calm voice. Y/N felt tears spring to her eyes as Draco harshly shoved the photographs into her hands. She reluctantly looked down at the images of her and Blaise. She knew it looked terrible, but she was determined to make Draco believe her.

“What do you have to say for yourself? I mean, seriously, was I not good enough for you? Is that it?” Draco asked. Hurt was audible in his voice.

Y/N felt her heart shatter. “Draco, don’t talk like that, of course, you’re good enough for me. You’re more than enough. Please, you have to trust me, you have to believe me. I would never cheat on you; they set me up.” Y/N pleaded. Her eyes were wide with fear.

Draco scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t lie to me, don’t make up stories. You cheated, and you didn’t care about the repercussions. Did you ever care? Was I just a game, just a toy for you?” He asked, his voice cracking.

“Of course I cared about you, Draco, I still do. I never fucking stopped caring about you... About us. Draco, I love you, please believe me, please let me explain,” she begged. But Draco wasn’t having it. He took a step backward; she took one forward. Draco clenched his fists. “Get away from me. We’re done.”

Y/N began to panic. “No, no, Draco, listen to me. Please don’t leave, please—”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up! I don’t give a damn what you have to say. I don’t want to hear from you again, I don’t want to look at you. Do you understand me? Stay the fuck away from me,” Draco commanded. He continued backing up. This time, Y/N stayed put. Tears fell from her cheeks as she watched her lover leave. She felt her legs begin to tremble. She couldn't believe this was happening. It had only been a few hours ago that she had given him a good morning kiss. How had they ended up in this situation so fast? Her legs continued to shake, and eventually, she collapsed onto the cold floor. Sobs racked her body.

-----------

A few weeks later, Draco was sitting in his usual spot in the Great Hall. In Y/N’s place, however, sat Pansy. She was leaning on her hand and gazing at Draco mindlessly. Truth be told, it made Draco a bit uncomfortable. But he did his best to ignore her as he finished up his supper. The past week had been extremely hard for him. He’d hardly gotten any sleep due to the fact all he could think about was Y/N. The look on her face when he’d ended things was burned into his mind. She’d looked so heartbroken, almost as if she was the one who was hurting. Draco knew better than that; he knew he was the one who’d been deceived. He was the one who’d been cheated on, for crying out loud. If anyone was hurting, it was him.

Every time he saw an orange, her favorite fruit, he’d feel his heart clench. Whenever he’d pass the astronomy tower, he’d be reminded of all their time spent up there. The worst, however, was seeing her in the hallways. It hurt beyond belief to see her with Blaise. It just so happened that every time Draco saw them, Blaise's arm was around her waist. It made him sick to his stomach.

“You feeling alright, Dray?” Pansy inquired, pulling Draco out of his thoughts. He nodded and continued to pick at his shepherd's pie. “You don’t look, alright,” Pansy pushed further. Draco slammed his fist onto the table, making some fellow Slytherins irritated. He ignored them and glared at the girl next to him. “I found out a week ago that my girlfriend of two years has been cheating on me. Sorry, I’m not my usual fucking self,” he snapped. Pansy looked disturbed by his angry outburst and decided to remain silent for the rest of their meal.

Draco remained quiet as well; he didn’t like talking anymore. Hell, he didn’t like doing anything anymore. He felt so empty without her. She gave his life joy. Bullying first years and Harry Potter wasn’t the most fulfilling activity, neither was burying himself in his studies. But when Y/N was present, he was happy; he was important. Without her, he felt worthless.

Just then, Draco noticed the couple themselves walking towards the doors of the Great Hall. Blaise’s hand was wrapped around Y/N's arm. She looked a bit disgruntled. When the pair passed Draco and Pansy, Y/N made eye contact with the blonde boy. Her eyes seemed sad, pleading almost. This intrigued Draco more than he cared to admit. He watched them leave, waited a few seconds, then stood up from his seat.

“Draco, where are you going? You haven’t finished your dinner,” Pansy whined. He chose to ignore her and follow after his former lover instead.

When he walked through the doors, he headed for the stairs to the dungeons. He knew Y/N would always go straight to the common room after dinner; he could only hope that was still true. Draco could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he raced down the stone steps. He wasn’t quite sure what had possessed him to follow after the girl who cheated on him, but there he was running after her.

When he got to the bottom of the staircase, he became acutely aware of the lack of people in the Hogwarts basement. Usually, Slytherins would be lurking around every corner, but not tonight. It was too quiet for Draco's liking. He willed himself to calm down. Once he did, he heard the sound of hushed voices coming from his right. He quietly hastened down the dark corridor until he came to the end of it. “Leave me alone,” a familiar voice said. Draco knew it was Y/N, he felt his heart jump upon hearing her, but He stayed hidden behind a wall and urged himself to open his ears to the conversation around the corner.

“You and Parkinson have already ruined my relationship. Can’t you just leave me be now? I thought you were just helping her get those photos; why are you still bothering me?” Y/N asked. She sounded exasperated.

“Pansy did pay me well for those pictures, but I’m afraid I’ve taken a liking to you, sweetheart. You’re just too pretty to pass up.”

After a few beats, Y/N replied with a quiet, “Don’t touch me.” Anger began to boil within Draco, but he didn’t let his presence be known just yet. He wanted to continue eavesdropping on their conversation.

“What’s wrong, babydoll? Don’t like me?” Blaise asked tauntingly. Draco clenched his fists in an attempt to control his anger. But he knew it was only a matter of time before he lost his temper.

“Well, no shit Zabini. You fucking assaulted me and—” Y/N was cut off by a loud slap. This set Draco off; he launched himself off the wall and rounded the corner, wand out, and raised. Y/N and Blaise were shocked to see him here, but Blaise quickly masked his surprise and put his hands behind his back.

“Ah, Malfoy. Fancy seeing you here,” he said. Draco stormed up to him and pressed the tip of his wand to Blaise’s throat. He withdrew his hands slowly while staring at the wand, fear in his eyes. “Hey man, what the fuck are you doing?” he asked in a wavery voice.

“Did you hit her?” Draco asked. His voice was dark, his pupils were tiny as he glared at Blaise. The tall boy didn’t reply. Draco pressed his wand further into his neck. “Look at her, Zabini. Her cheek is burning red; I know you see it. So let me ask you again, did you fucking hit her? And don’t lie to me, you piece of shit.” Draco seethed. Y/N watched the exchange between the boys with terror on her face. She felt anything but safe.

Blaise gulped. “She was acting like a bitch,” he shrugged. Draco didn’t hesitate. “Petrificus Totalus!” Blaise fell backward onto the floor with a loud thud; he was now frozen. Draco stood over him, steaming as he tucked his wand into his pocket and reeled back his fist. “Draco, no!” Y/N yelled. But Draco was blind with rage. He rammed his fist into Blaise’s cheek. Y/N cried out for him to stop, but he hit him again and again. Blaise didn't make a peep as he was forced to endure Draco's brutal punches. Y/N looked on with tears streaming down her face. She didn’t try to stop him for fear he would turn on her.

Once Draco was satisfied with the pulp he had beat Balise into, he released him from his invisible bonds. The boy scrambled to his feet and ran off to the Slytherin common room, not wanting to test Draco’s patience any further. Draco watched him go as he examined the blood on his knuckles. At last, he and Y/N were alone. The blonde boy turned to Y/N. His stomach dropped when he saw her tear stricken face. Her eyes were filled with fear as she peered up at him from her spot on the floor. Draco hesitantly crouched down.

“Y/N… it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said softly. Y/N began to cry even more. Draco felt his stomach churn with regret, and he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Y/N.

“I didn’t cheat o-on you. Parkinson pu-put Zabini up to it. I didn’t kiss him willingly,” she stuttered, her body still rocking with sobs. Draco felt like a complete arsehole. He should've just let her explain that night. If he would've only heard her out, they could've avoided all of this.

Draco gently reached out his hand and waited until Y/N placed hers on top of it. He intertwined his fingers with hers. The warmth from her touch was a stark contrast to the icy feeling of his. He pulled her hand close and softly kissed it. “I believe you, love. I’m sorry I didn’t before, but I do now. Please forgive me.”

Y/N rubbed her nose and gradually opened her arms. Draco pulled her into a much-needed hug. He pressed his face into her shoulder and relished in the feeling of her arms around his. Even though it had only been a week, it had felt much longer. So to finally be back in each other’s embrace was like a breath of fresh air.

When they pulled away, Draco caressed her face and, with his thumb, began to wipe the tears from her soft cheeks. He noticed the fading red mark from Blaise’s slap, and he felt his fury begin to return. But Y/N saw this right away. She put her own hands on Draco’s face, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “I’m okay, just a little spooked is all,” she assured him. Draco saw right through her just like she’d seen through him. He knew she was terrified.

“You don’t have to put on a brave face for me, love. You’ve been hurt in so many ways, and I am so sorry. But I’m here now, and I promise you, nobody is going to lay another hand on you, okay? I’ve got you if you'll have me,” Draco said. Y/N smiled and pressed her forehead to his. They remained that way for a few moments before Draco pulled her into his lap. He stroked her hair comfortingly and began to rock her back and forth, calming her remaining tears.

After a few minutes of this, Y/N turned around in Draco’s grasp. She smiled and reached up to push his hair out of his face. Usually, it would be clean-cut and uniform, but that night’s events had turned it into a messy mop. She chuckled to herself, causing Draco to look at her quizzically. “What?” he asked. Y/N tilted her head and pursed her lips. “You’re just too cute, is all.”

Draco felt blush rush to his cheeks; he buried his face in Y/N’s shoulder yet again. She simply hummed contentedly and pressed a kiss to his head. “I missed you,” she mumbled. Draco lifted his head and placed a tender kiss on her lips. “I missed you too, my lovely.”

“Please don’t break up with me again. I was so sad,” Y/N said with pouty lips. Oh, how Draco had missed those. He leaned in for another kiss. “Don’t worry, I was really lonely without you. You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future,” Draco declared. Y/N giggled. “Good,” she replied.

And suddenly...everything was okay again.

#Draco Malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy x yn #Draco #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #request #jealousy #pansy parkinson #Blaise Zabini #severus snape #professor snape #draco fluff #draco malfoy fluff #angst #draco malfoy angst

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is-it-madness · 4 years ago

Text

A Different Kind Of Birthday Night

A/N: Happy Birthday, my darling friend @fadingcoast!!! This is for you, dear heart. Here’s hoping for a wonderful year for you. Love you 🥳💜💜 Thank you for encouraging me to post this and for betaing. You are absolutely incredible.

Pairing: Loki x f!reader

Summary: It’s your birthday and Loki gives you a gift you’re sure to never forget

Warnings: This being my first smut should be warning enough. But also... D/s dynamics, kinda sub!Loki, oral sex (f receiving), fingering. I believe that’s it.

Word count: 1356

It was evening when you finally came home from work.

After working a full shift at the hospital, you felt gross, contaminated. Kicking off your shoes and tossing your keys down, you headed to the bathroom, wanting to wash the day’s grime off you.

You rubbed your eyes when you entered the bathroom, only to blink several times when realizing the tub was lavishly prepared for you. You smiled slightly, knowing only one man would’ve done this for you.

“Hello, my love.”

How you’re never able to sense his presence when he stood behind you, is something you’ll never figure out. You only knew he was there if he said something, or if he placed a hand on your waist, pulling you against him.

You spun around, grinning for what was probably the first time today. “Hi.”

The tension in your shoulders relaxed as you took in the sight of him gloriously bare from the waist up. Sitting enticingly low on his hips, were a pair of sweats. You could tell that he wanted to kiss you, to pull you into his embrace, to hold you flush against him. The want was clear in his eyes.

But you shook your head. “Bath-”

“-first,” he finished your sentence. “Yes, yes, I know the requirements, love.” A ghost of a smirk pulled at his lips. “I have no qualms. This time.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

Loki grins and kisses the tip of your nose. “You’ll see. After your bath.”

A few minutes ago, you might’ve been exhausted and ready to collapse in bed. But that smile? With that mischievous glint in his eyes? Oh... now your interest was piqued. Whatever he had in store for you was sure to be more than interesting.

He took your chin between his fingers and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “Now, in you get.”

You rolled your eyes at him, which earned you a playful smack to your ass, making you giggle. Loki heads to your shared bedroom to do... well, who knows what he has planned, and you stripped before sinking into the invitingly warm water.

When you walked in the room, you were greeted by a sight you weren’t expecting.

“Loki?”

Loki was sitting on the floor, completely stripped, and looking at you with a demure expression.

It wasn’t often you saw him behave like this. Maybe twice before. But when he did, you relished in it. It meant you were in charge tonight. It meant he was yours to control, to use for your pleasure.

You crouched in front of him. “So pretty,” you murmured, easily slipping into your role of being in charge. “Especially when you’re like this, for me to use at my disposal.”

He licked his lips. “Thank you, Mistress.”

There it was. Your title. Your proof of power for tonight. It sent heat straight to your core. Your eyes flitted to his tongue and you smiled darkly. This is going to be fun.

“Hands behind your back. No touching me unless I grant you permission.”

He complied to your command and you straddled his lap, his semi-hard cock rubbing against your folds. You trailed your fingers along his chest and nuzzled into his neck, rocking your hips oh so gently to feel a delicious bit of friction on your clit.

“What to do with you… restraints? Or maybe the crop. You did look so cute with that collar…”

Between your words, you left open-mouthed kisses against his throat, leaving a bite here and there, making your mark on him. You could feel his muscles flex and tense under your touch and you can tell he’s using a great deal of restraint to not touch you.

You sat up straight, a smile gracing your face. “I know exactly what we’ll do.”

You stood and walked across the room, taking a seat in his chair, the one he used on occasions when the roles were reversed. But tonight? Tonight it was your turn.

You tugged on the tie holding your robe closed and spread your legs wide, giving him a full view of your glistening pussy. You hear his breathing hitch and his deep green eyes go black.

“Well?” You arched a brow at him, teasing a finger between your wet folds. ”It’s not going to take care of itself.”

Loki crawled towards you, hunger evident in his eyes. He settled himself between your legs, resting his hands on your calves. He placed soft kisses and nibbles on your thighs, fingers lazily trailing up your legs. You shuddered under his featherlight touches, as he takes his time.

Frustrated, you seized him by his hair and pulled his head back.

“Did I tell you I wanted teasing?”

“No, Mistress.”

You tighten your grip on his hair, tugging a bit. “And what are you doing right now?”

A soft moan escapes his lips. “T-teasing.”

“I’ll deal with your disobedience later, but right now,” you dragged his face close to your heated center. “I want that silver tongue on me.”

He responded by giving you a viper-like smile and licking a fat stripe on your pussy. You threw your head back, eyes rolling as he began to feast on you.

“Good boy... just- ah! Just like that.”

He hummed, laughing, sending vibrations on your clit as he sucks it into his mouth. Loki grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to his assault and threw you legs over his shoulders. He licked firmly against your folds and dipped his tongue inside you, nose nudging against your clit.

“Such a pretty pussy… and you taste so sweet Mistress.”

Your breathing became shallow, a small whine left your lips, but you still need more. “Loki-”

You hadn’t uttered more than his name, but he already knew what you wanted. Your folds were wet enough to make it easy for him to insert two of his long fingers inside your pussy. He looked up at you through his lashes, licking and sucking your clit as he pressed his fingers, scissoring for a moment before trying to find your sweet spot.

“You’re doing... s-such a good job... hmm- such a good job.”

Loki hummed in appreciation for your praise. He crooked his fingers in a come hither motion and your legs trembled when he found your g-spot. You threw your head back, reduced to whines and moans. His eyes were closed now, brow furrowed as he focused on bringing you pleasure. He added a third finger, pumping them in and out, tongue flicking and sucking your clit.

“L-Loki… I’m c-com-” You didn’t even finish your warning before he gave a particularly harsh suck and pressed his fingers deep inside your pussy.

You came with a gasp, a strangled scream, and his name on your lips.

Loki lapped up your juices, slowing down his ministrations to help you ride out your orgasm. You collapsed in the chair, chest heaving and limbs trembling. He stood up and gathered your limp figure in his arms, carrying you to bed and gently putting you down. He crawled on top of you, caging you between his arms. The weight of his body on yours was comforting, while the weight of his heavy cock on your mound was arousing. You cupped his face and brought him close, kissing him slowly, intimately, the taste of your release making you heady.

He pulled away, resting his brow on yours. “Happy Birthday, my kitten.”

Your eyes widened. “I forgot it was today. I can’t believe you remembered.”

He laughed quietly. “Your king never forgets such an important day.”

“Thank you for this, Loki. It was a wonderful gift.”

Loki arched his brow and smirked. “You didn’t think we were done yet. Did you?” He rubbed his cock against you, steadily building your arousal up. “My love, you should’ve known that we’ve only just begun. Your gift ends when you’re covered in my cum, begging me to stop fucking you.”

“I’d never beg you to stop…” you bit your lip.

Loki smiled widely. “Shall we begin?”

My ride or die:

@lehuka123 @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @just-the-hiddles @thehumanistsdiary @fanfictionaries @astheworlddturns @bbarnestan @buckyfan12

Loki:

@delightfulheartdream @imherefortomhiddleston @imnotrevealingmyname

Tag lists are open ☺️

#loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki x you #loki smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson smut #loki fic #loki odison x reader #loki odinson x y/n #loki odinson x you #loki odinson smut #loki (marvel)#loki (mcu)

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ldouble · 3 years ago

Text

Slumming It | Kevin Atwater X Reader (Chicago PD)

summary: When pulled into an undercover op for the Intelligence Unit, you couldn’t be more excited. The only person who catches your hesitation is your boyfriend. A lot is unsaid in the bullpen, your relationship being one of them.

gif is not mine :)

“You keep looking at me like that and they’re gonna know you’re slumming it with a uniform.”

Your words were punctuated by the complete zip of the knee high leather boots. But it wasn’t till the hell smacks the concrete of the locker room does Kevin look up at you, unimpressed with your statement.

You tilted your head at him, hoping it aided your humor. All it did was send the little eye contact held fleeting.

“I’m not slumming it with a uniform.” Kevin shook his head toward the ground, until he realized what he just said. “I’m not slumming it with you, either.”

Your hands found the other boot, a sigh escaping your lips at how much the tight fitting accessory is going to fit. “You’re tripping up, Atwater,” It glided up with little effort, giving you the chance to cross your legs and look across the room. “I can see Ruzek getting on your ass already.”

“Can you stop with-”

“Or is Halstead sending a sly smirk at you?”

Your light heartedness has no place in the backlit changing room and even little place in a situation like this. Joking about your boyfriend’s friends finding out about his relationship, with you standing there dressed like a hooker, all while working an undercover op...you should’ve stuck with commenting about how the color of the dress did absolutely nothing for your eyes.

Still, Kevin would’ve found a way to call you out. He was quiet but that just meant he spent more time listening. He was done with your ill timed jokes.

“Sorry.” You bit your lip, knowing you pinched a nerve. You didn’t know what to worry about more - the way you just embarrassed yourself in front of a member of the Intelligence Unit or how you insulted your boyfriend.

You hated that the latter took priority.

You found Kevin’s eyes, too dark to read. But the look he was giving you - an analytical gaze mixed with what looked like frustration with the furrow in his brow - had you resorting back to your go-to.

“We uniforms aren’t used to working anyone other than a partner.”

You could hear the worry in your voice growing as each word entered the space. If the tone didn’t solidify his assumption, the choked laugh you gave did it. Nothing said “Can I do this?” like a meek laugh.

Girlfriends worried.

Cops did no such thing.

Straightening your posture you released your hair held in a tight ponytail. Shaking it out, you offered a smile. “Having your team at my disposal just got to my head for a second.”

Kevin pursed his lips, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. He looked great, done up in his own undercover wardrobe. Of course, his wasn’t as extreme as yours.

You were pretending to be a hooker. Short dress, fishnet stockings and heels that were nearly half your height. And that wasn’t including the heel. You hadn’t looked in the mirror after Trudy bombarded you. The amount of lipstick you could just feel on you made you want to wipe it off.

Kevin on the other hand was just supposed to be him. Tall and handsome, a drink of water to fit in right among the elites of this Hookah Bar you were raiding. Minus the badge, you could’ve sworn this look of a blazer and dark jeans had made an appearance at your front door. As well as your bedroom floor at one point or another.

He walked forward, hands finding your shoulders gently, his eyes pouring into yours. He took your breathe away. Or maybe that was the anxiety creeping up on you.

“We’re not at your disposal. We’re on your side.” You couldn’t help but lean into his palm as it crept up your shoulder. “We have your back.”

“Better you than this dress.”

Again, he didn’t find it funny. You sighed, nodding in all seriousness. “You have my back.”

Giving up on the idea of convincing him with a look of complete and utter confidence (you were saving that for the mission) you strode past him, grabbing the furry white jacket off the end of the bench.

On your way, you gave him some of the rope to tug at.

“That easy to tell I’m nervous?” You asked, slipped the fur over your shoulders.

He followed your steps, the pink handbag looking teeny in his grasp. “You uniforms got no damn poker face.”

You chuckle at that, feeling better with him in a joking mood. It was forced, you could tell by the way his tongue was sticking out between his lips, but you didn’t call it out. Humor came to everybody in their own ways. Yours was easier to cling to.

“Yeah, well without a uniform I’m sure it’ll get better.” You accepted the bag, twirling it in your fingers.

“Better?” Kevin asked with offense. “Gonna be the best. Why else would we bring you up?” He whispered in your ear as you made your way to the garage.

You pretended to think for a second before turning around, tiptoeing backwards and tracing his collar.

“For you to oggle me.”

The sound of the door opening snapped you back to reality. This was work. You might’ve been pretending to be a hooker but you weren’t on the job yet. Definitely not with a colleague who you would never do such a thing with.

Kevin caught the door, holding it open for you. As you walked past you gave your best respectable-just-another-day-in-the-office smile. But upon his next words, it was hard to keep it up.

“Like I’d show them I’m slumming it with you.”

----

Slumming it, you were definitely not.

You had quested the expensive dress placed in your locker. Why did a hooker did a $500 piece of clothing that barely covered her ass? Because as a high class hooker, expensive taste breeds....expensive tasters.

Men. With money.

But there was only one man you wanted.

He had money, sure.

But he also had guns.

A whole warehouse and business of illegal firearms. Chicago, ever the “Heart of America” was this guy’s selling point. Everything shipped here and then shipped out.

But a man he was. A man with needs. Expensive needs on short time. Besides, he had cash to burn. Made sense he booked it to this club, paid for a girl, had his way with her, and then was onto a business deal with a couple AK-47s by dawn.

Lucky you, getting a front row seat to it all.

You really hoped all you got was a seat. You really didn’t want to have to go to bed with this guy.

Jay would hopefully make sure of that. Imploring a deal on this guy’s “night out”. Who could resist making some money while spending it on something as pretty as me?

You gulped, remembering your first date with Kevin. He paid for the meal, quoting something similar. He couldn’t believe I had said yes to going out. He insisted on paying.

Tough as nails he was in his bullet proof vest. Beneath it, a teddy bear with manners of every mother’s dream.

“Aye, mami, how you doing?”

You turned to the fourth? fifth? guy who approached you, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. He was security, like every other guy who had hit on you yet, and not your target.

They really thought protecting their bosses wasn’t their job. Trying to catch the runner ups was their priortiy.

“Looking for something a bit better than that.” You heard Ruzek say over the comms.

“She’s got standards,” You looked over your shoulder toward Kevin, posted at a table near by. He sent a quick wink before finishing his statement. “As every girl should.”

“High ones, too.” You whispered.

You knew he was rolling his eyes, more so at you chiming in than your hint at your secret boyfriend’s height, but missed it since your view became full by another presence.

“Hi to you, too.”

Bingo.

You smiled at the man you had waiting for all night. One glance at his opening jacket, shimmering from the gun strapped in on both sides, and you knew this was the one. You’d been studying his face for weeks, of course. But nothing said arms dealer like...arms.

Arms that you felt wrapping around you.

Arms that you had to embrace.

It wasn’t the guy that had you nervous. Or the situation. Hell, you felt fine pretending to be a hooker. You had your team behind you.

You also had your boyfriend watching. That’s what made you resistance to accepting the embrace, taking in the fluttery whispers, and nodding at the invitation to his booth.

It was one thing to go undercover and flirt. A whole other when doing it in front of the one person you were undercover with and wanted to flirt with.

You were a cop first, you reminded yourself as you sat down on the plush velvet sofa. You were a cop, you repeated at lips found your neck.

Where the hell was Jay? Swooping in to make this deal? Get you out of this?

“Hey man, hate to intrude here.”

You froze for the first time at the sound of that voice.

A voice you loved to hear. But not here. Not with some other guy all up on you.

The dealer let his grip loosen on you and as he turned toward the newest addition to the booth you got your first clear look at it.

Your secret boyfriend.

Currently playing an undercover role he was not assigned to. All while you were undercover as a hooker attempting to get in good with a well known criminal.

The rest of the team was having just as much of a frenzy on your ear piece. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Jay panicking, not so much as ten feet away.

Kevin must’ve beat him to it.

Something told you it wasn’t the want to be the bad guy. Rather, break up the bad guy and you.

He had your back. Too much this time.

The target felt the same way, attempting to shake him off and coming back to you for more.

Your eyes met Kevin’s - more hallow than earlier - over the shoulder of the suspect. It sent you freezing again. What were you to do? Blow cover to save a relationship just as hidden? Or keep this going and lose something you never would’ve really had?

“I like seeing you work.” You giggled, gently pushing him off of you. Your eyes glimmered with fake admiration (really anxiety bubbling up) but it did the trick. You didn’t even have to use your line about how you would work for him later.

Taking the bait, he spun and began chatting with Kevin.

Unfortunately, he liked his work and play mixing. A hand found your leg, circling your knee. Kevin’s gaze never left the dealer’s but you could tell it was killing him. The toothpick, which had been loosely hanging out his mouth earlier, was now being gritted together so loud you could hear it over the music.

What was more obvious than his clear discomfort? The hand sneaking its way up your leg. No amount of disco lights or smoke from nearby bongs could hide the manly grasp on your thigh.

Even when he lifted your skirt up you couldn’t flinch. He was so close to admitting it all. He’d skimmed the numbers and the details but if Kevin pressed a little bit harder...

“Tell me more.”

Kevin’s eyes had swiftly found the connection on your leg. It wasn’t obvious enough for concern but his tone was. It was distant. Unfocused. Everything a dealer didn’t want in a deal, no matter the environment.

“You don’t seem interested in enough.”

“I am.” You giggled.

Damn. You were too quick to jump. He gave you a disapproving look and you could see it all falling. Everything you had worked for. Gone because you were trying to protect this case more than your real relationship.

“Not as much as me, girl.” Kevin spat.

He caught both of your attention’s, scooting closer. “I want armory. I know you have it. I can swear on the things you’re gonna do to this girl tonight, you can get it to be by tomorrow.”

OK, you weren’t the only one putting work before romance.

The thought scared you for a second but you had more to worry about. Most importantly, the feverish squeeze of your thigh that bloomed from the exciting prospect of a business deal.

The guy said it himself, shaking hands with Kevin and giving all the details we needed for a case.

You were stunned how good this was going. It was all falling into place.

Kevin seemed just as shocked too, sitting there silently...which was very unlike the bold player he was pretending to be.

Of course, no story has a perfectly happy ending.

The fault in the plan, the lack of calling out the safe word to trigger the team flying in.

The word slumming (your choice) barely crossed your mind before the guy’s lips were on yours and he was hurting you with such force.

You felt trapped for what felt like eternity (with your boyfriend looking on at least) but what was really seconds before he was ripped off of you.

“Get your hands off of her!” Kevin threw the guy on the ground, the gun in his belt loaded and aimed at his head.

He looked back at you once his hands were up, breathing heavy. OK, it had messed with his head as much as yours.

A little too much, though.

Because the next thing you knew, Kevin was kicked to the ground and the dealer was grabbing his own gun.

Thankfully, you were wearing a uniform more fit for the job.

In seconds you clashed with the arms dealer, hitting down hard on his hand to realize the gun in his grasp while simultaneously grabbing the other pistol from his pocket. Just as you lifted it up to aim it, Kevin was forcing him onto the booth, hands behind his back.

“Chicago PD!” Had just left your lips as the rest of the team came by. You breathed out, no longer having to play it cool.

Kevin was also given a break when Jay came in to take him away. In two steps he was in front of you, releasing the gun from your hand and pulling you close.

“I’m never letting you out of that uniform ever again.” He muffled into your head before tipping your chin up.

You smiled, cutting the distance between your lips till they grazed his when you spoke. “You can try all you want but I know you love seeing me out of it.”

Kevin pulled your close, squashing whatever space lay between you two.

“Woah, what’s going on here?” Ruzek called out with a holler, bringing you both to reality.

Out of the corner of your eye. you saw Kevin stumble a hand flying over his head as he thought on his feet.

You took a step forward, a hand on Kevin’s chest. “Kevin is slumming it with me, a uniform.”

Laughs erupted from the team, Voight shaking his head.

Kevin saddled up beside you, pulling you close once again.

“How many times I gotta say I’m not slumming it with you?”

“A million. “You shrugged. “I did have to lower my very high standards for-”

You words went unfinished as his lips found yours again.

You didn’t mind, thought. There’d be another undercover case sooner or later. You could tell him then how it was you who lucked out.

The End

#kevin atwater #kevin atwater x reader #chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fanfic #chicago pd one shot #jay halstead #adam ruzek #hank voight #chicago pd nbc #kevin atwater one shot

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ofnifflersandkings · 4 years ago

Text

Bumping into Strangers

Character: Benny Watts A/n: Finally finished a benny request even if it took me 10 years and a contract with the devil.

You tapped your foot against the pristine marble floor of the hotel lobby, adjusting the arsenal of camera equiptment you had shoved under your arms to prepare for the chess match later today. You were placed in charged of gathering photos for the new Chess Review edition, the first real professional project of your career. To say you were nervous was the understatement of the year.

You shuffled through your camera bag, strategizing the kinds of lenses you might have to use throughout the day. The lighting in the hotel was pretty dim, the thick brown curtains lazily swaying over most of the windows did little to help bring in any natural light. Luckily, you noticed a rather large chandelier hanging over the area where most of the chess boards were situated. It sort of reminded you of an old smoking room in a gentleman’s club, but given the sort of people surrounding you, it wasn’t that far off.

You tilted your head, taking a few paces forward as you tried to scope out the area better. Usually, you’d have gotten this out of the way earlier in the morning. But Benny insisted upon introducing you to more of his chess associates and promised you could kick him in the ass for it later, proclaiming your irrefutable talent would be more than enough to get you through the day.

Still walking forward, you didn’t even notice someone heading right towards you until the both of you collided. The sudden weight sent you stumbling backwards, and you probably would’ve fallen right on your back had the stranger not reached out for you.

His hands held firmly onto your shoulders, helping you regain your balance before you could fall.

“Are you alright?” The stranger said in a slightly alarmed tone, his brows shot upwards and his eyes wide.

It took you a moment to process what exactly happened, and you blinked before your brain caught up to speed.

“Yes! Gosh, I’m so sorry,” You fumbled, feeling the heat crawl up your neck when you realized how you were at the fault. “I wasn’t paying attention at all.”

The man smiled, the curls on his forehead shaking whenever his laugh and doing little to help your embarrassment. He looked down at your camera and his eyes lit up. “Is that a Pentax?”

Your eyebrows knit together, not knowing how he knew what camera you used, but you followed his gaze and realized you were wearing it around your neck.

“Oh! Yeah it’s-“

“Everything alright here?”

You whipped your head over at the sound of the familiar voice, smiling when you saw Benny standing just a ways off from the two fo you.

He had one of his hands hanging loosely by his belt loop as his eyes darted between you and the other man. His brows furrowed into a deep frown, his gaze shifting to the man’s hands, which you now realized were still holding onto your shoulders.

You and him must’ve realized the same thing because he immediately released his hold on you and you both awkwardly laughed as you took a step back.

“Yes! We’re okay, I just wasn’t paying attention so I ran right into…,” You faltered, remembering you never got his name.

He must’ve sensed your distress because he picked it up for you. “Jaime,” he said, looking back at you for a moment with a smile. “It was both of our faults really.”

Benny crossed his arms, looking at you to find any warning in them. But when he couldn’t find any his spirits didn’t seem to lift any.

“Well, it’s a pretty small space. I’d imagine it’s easy to run into each other,” He gave a pointed look to Jaime, a stiff smile taking over his face. “We’ll just have to keep out a better watch won’t we?”

Benny turned back to you, a more pleasant look coming over him now. “I just wanted to let you know the matches are starting soon.”

You adjusted the strap of your camera bag and turned to Jaime. “I’ll see you later then?”

His ears seemed to perk up at the idea. “Sure! I’ll see you.”

You walked over to Benny, who immediately placed his arm over your shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you the best spot in the house,” He looked back at Jaime once more before leading you further away from him.

Benny looked passed his opponent, trying to find you in the growing crowd as he waited to make his next move. He leaned back in his chair, arms folding over each other and his lip twitching upward when he noticed you snapping photos of another match.

It was short lived though when he also noticed that Jaime guy hanging out not too close to you. He recalled seeing him at a few other tournaments and figured he was a friend of one of the other chess guys. But now it felt like every time he looked up he had inched closer to where you were standing.

Benny was so caught up trying to keep up with the two of you he almost missed it when his opponent finally moved.

He had the poor guy in check three moves later.

Benny sat in one of the armchairs in the lobby, the post tournament chatter buzzing around over his eyes and falling in and out of ears. He was in an oddly somber mood despite winning the whole thing, he usually energy for bravado now a bit depleted.

He shook hands with his final opponent and turned around, fully expecting you to be waiting to congratulated like you always did. But you were nowhere in sight.

His one heel tapped against the floor, not wanting to leave until he knew where you were. He placed his chin in hand, exhaling dramatically when he thought you might be with Jaime.

You and him always got together after his matches so he could talk your ear off about strategy and you’d tell him about the kinds of photos you’d gotten or how difficult it was to “get the right lighting”.

He smiled when thinking at your silly antics and when he remembered you weren’t here with now it put him back in a bad mood.

His eyes were trained on the floor and when he saw you walking up to him he immediately sat up straighter in his chair.

“Well there you are,” He chided, trying to cover his former disappointment. “I thought you might’ve run out on me.”

You laughed, “Like I’d ever hear the end of it if I even thought about it.”

Benny watched you put your camera away and fasten the straps on your bag and tried not to seem too eager about wanting to leave. “So, are we off? I can drive ya.”

You shook your head, “I’m actually gonna stick around a little longer. The fellow from earlier? We got to talking about some camera stuff during the downtime between matches and offered to grab drinks to talk about it more later.”

You suddenly caught yourself and you looked at him with a sheepish smile. “That’s alright isn’t it? I know we usually do something together when your matches are over.”

Benny scoffed, knowing he really had no right to tell you to leave with him, even if he wanted to. “Course it is, I’m sure he’ll make better conversation on the subject than I can.” He said with a smile.

You grinned, ruffling his hair with your hand. “Congratulations though, I heard you were especially tough to beat today. Even I was impressed.”

Benny leaned back, his smile turning a little more genuine when he heard your praise, his wounded ego healing itself already. “What can I say? I was feeling motivated today.”

You laughed, placing your hands into your pockets. “Well, I shouldn’t keep him waiting, don’t wanna be out too late.”

Benny turned his head and saw Jaime shifting his weight between his legs over by the lobby door. His eyes kept flittering over to the two of you talking.

Benny smirked before looking back up at you.

“Hey wait, you have something,” He pointed to the top of his head and you ran your fingers through your hair hoping to get it. Instead, he shook his head and laughed. “Nope, still there.”

You were about to ask him what the hell he was talking about. Instead, you felt him tug on your camera strap, the pressure making you lean forward so you more on his level where he was sitting.

Your noses almost bumped into each other, but you pulled back to prevent it. Benny lifted his hand up again, taking whatever was in your in your hair and flicking it away before you got a good look at it. Then, he lightly tucked the hair at the front of your head behind your ear.

“That’s better.” He commented, still using his free hand to hold onto your camera strap so you couldn’t get too far away from him.

Your brows furrowed at his odd behavior, and you laughed at the sudden realization of how close you two were. “You’re being strange…stranger than usual anyways.”

Benny chuckled, releasing his old on you but not without making direct eye contact with your new friend before he did. He sent a wink his way and had to hold back a laugh when he saw Jaime’s shoulders tense.

“I’ll see you later?” He asked, watching you grab your bag. “Tell your friend I said hello.”

Tag List:

@carpevflos

#wanted to title this drama king but I held back benny's pettiness in this one #im still kinda writing you and benny in your pre relationship phase #so this is benny at his most controlled #but if y'all were in an established relationship??#he'd be such a little shit #maybe later 👀#still love this man #wish I had the stamina to write like I used to #but im trying #hope anon likes this #the queens gambit #benny watts imagine #benny watts imagines #the queens gambit imagines #the queens gambit imagine #benny watts x reader #queens gambit imagines #queens gambit imagine

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mythicamagic · 4 years ago

Note

“If i asked you to stay, would you?” Please ❤️

Decided to do a continuation of - this drunk Kagome prompt

Also, all prompts have been posted to Ao3, fanfiction.net and Dokuga if anyone wants to read them there ^^

---

Inserting a spare key into the lock, Sesshoumaru casually let himself into Kagome’s apartment the next day around noon after hearing a loud groan answer his knock.

Stepping over some discarded heels and shedding his human glamour mid-step, he found Kagome messily sprawled over her bed.

Blue eyes cracked open, and she winced.

“Sesshoumaru...I think I’m dying.”

“I did tell you to drink water before passing out,” he intoned flatly, lifting a bag of food from Zubway into view.

Kagome groggily sat up, rubbing her head and sighing. “You did, huh? Was I really bad?”

“The usual amount of drunk, I’d say,” thin lips quirked as he left to grab some water, bringing a full glass back.

Kagome accepted it, along with a painkiller. “Thank you so much. You’re the absolute best.”

Sesshoumaru’s golden eyes flickered. They strayed away, and he fell quiet as they both dug into their food. Kagome barely had the stomach for it, but forced herself to eat, knowing it would make her feel better in the long run. She managed half of her sandwich, before leaning back against her pillows with a hungover sigh.

“You know...I think some things are coming back to me,” she mumbled, squinting.

Sesshoumaru hummed, hardly expecting anything miraculous to be remembered.

Kagome blanched after a moment, blue eyes widening. “D-did I...say something weird about your butt?”

A wicked smirk came to his lips, delighting in her humiliated whine of defeat.

“Oh nooo- go on. Lay it on me.”

“This one seems to recall you wanting to bite my ‘cute butt.’”

“Nooooo!” she fell face first into her pillow, the noises coming out muffled.

“And then you wished to lick me-”

The sounds of embarrassment rose higher.

His tone dropped into a low whisper, “you also said that you loved me.”

Kagome’s head rose, fumbling with her dishevelled hair, “hm? What was that last one? Your voice was too quiet.”

“I said you wanted to lick honey from my person-”

“Nooooooooo!”

Smirking, Sesshoumaru rose from the bed to dispose of their trash, glancing at her rumpled form furtively from the corner of his eye.

It was for the best. If she’d really meant it, then surely Kagome would’ve told him by now. The only reason he kept his own silence was because of how fragile it all felt.

Because this- spending easy time with her- being her companion, all of it was more than enough. The inuyoukai had been alone for so many years, by design of course. Only a select few were permitted close.

Ultimately, his relationship with Kagome Higurashi was too precious to be mishandled. If he confronted her- only for the miko to become awkward around him, he couldn’t...take it.

Sesshoumaru reached down, hooking his claws under the strap of her tight black dress that had slipped decadently off one shoulder, staring into her eyes- mascara smudged on her lashes. “You should change out of the clothes you wore last night,” he said softly.

Kagome blinked, reddening a little. Eventually she gave a nod, watching him walk to the threshold of her door.

“Sesshoumaru?”

He paused, “hn?”

“Was there something else? Any other odd things I might’ve said?”

Turning to face her, he couldn’t quite keep the intrigue from his voice. “Such as?”

“...I dunno, but…” Kagome chewed on her bottom lip maddeningly. His chest flared, hunger rising in his throat. Fangs ached. She was such a tease- no- he shook himself firmly.

“If any stuff I said when I was drunk made you uncomfortable, we could talk about that.”

“None of it made me uncomfortable.”

“I guess you are pretty difficult to embarrass,” she mumbled, bowing slightly. “But still, I’m sorry for any trouble I caused.”

Sesshoumaru smiled slightly, assuring her, before continuing out of the room. A sense of missed opportunity heavily pervaded the air as he let out a slow exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Foolishness.

---

The next time she got drunk was strangely two nights later, which was very odd in itself. Kagome did not drink so frequently.

And especially not alone.

“Come overrr,” she’d slurred down the phone. “We can have a sleepover!”

Sesshoumaru’s claws bit into the leather of his armchair, considering this, “I do not think that wise-”

“I’m gonna run through the halls, naked~”

“I will be right there,” he grunted, hanging up.

---

Her apartment lay on the fifth floor, and when Sesshoumaru reached her door, hearing nothing from inside- a sense of disquiet filled him with dread.

Kagome was a happy drunk. She was a stupid fool who loved everyone and showered them with affection.

Finding her inside sitting on the sofa- with the glassy look of unshed tears in her dark eyes, Sesshoumaru stopped and wondered how well he even knew her at all.

She collapsed into his arms the second he offered them.

Making low noises of comfort, Sesshoumaru lifted the miko onto his lap, combing deadly claws through her hair.

“What ails you?” he rumbled, kissing her behind the ear. He then winced, reminding himself not to take liberties with her person.

“I-I feel so happy,” Kagome sobbed, clinging tight around his shoulders.

Sesshoumaru blinked, rubbing her back in soothing circles using his large palm. “That is an issue?”

“It is!” she wailed, hiding her face. “B-because, I feel so guilty for it, all the time...all the time,” the words trailed off into a whisper.

“Why, miko?”

“Because I loved Inuyasha…and you’re his brother,” she breathed. “Because I miss my friends, but if someone asked me to give you up in order to see them again- I...I couldn't.”

Her grip tightened around him, shoulders shaking.

“And because -when we’re doing friend stuff, I don’t think of you as a friend- well I do-” she stumbled over her words. “Only I- I can’t help but hope for more. Wishing- and that’s not fair! It’s not fair to you! I never...thought I’d be happy again after the stupid bone well shut, but you fill me with...joy.”

Kagome stared at him suddenly, her face much too close.

Before Sesshoumaru could react, or do much of anything since he was already rendered speechless by her chatter- she’d pressed her soft lips to his. The action sent him reeling. His attention focused razer sharp on the sensation- of the tight grip she kept on his clothes. How she trembled with want of him.

Sesshoumaru inwardly purred, feeling a glow light up inside him. He reached for her hair- before she abruptly pulled away.

“And I just really think your butt is cute! I wanna grab it so bad that I feel like I’ve turned into Miroku! I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he panted, a strange warmth dusting his cheeks. “Is this why you only tell me such things when you’re drunk? You’re too ashamed to say them in the cold light of day?”

“Guess so. You’re so smart,” she slurred, resting her cheek against his shoulder and tiredly booping his nose. “Love you.”

“Hn, so you have mentioned,” Sesshoumaru uttered, casting his frazzled mind back. “Many times.”

But now a sense of understanding filled his rattled senses, and his own fears were swiftly being laid to rest.

Kagome hugged him tight, and Sesshoumaru returned it, cradling her close.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” she murmured.

Midsummer eyes slid shut, confessing a very real truth. “I would do anything you asked of me, miko.”

---

When Kagome rose that morning, clinging to his solid body tightly and lifting her head to meet his gaze, Sesshoumaru cupped her cheek.

“Sesshoumaru, what-? Mmfh?!”

A warm mouth fiercely crashed into hers, arms wrapping around her. She tasted terrible, and the kiss was sloppy- not at all perfect. He adored it anyway the second she tentatively kissed back- touching his hair gingerly.

She’d been like him, he realised, purring with satisfaction as he deepened the kiss, hitching her thigh over his waist. Too afraid to pursue anything, for fear of harming what they had.

Grabbing Kagome’s hand, Sesshoumaru forced it to the curve of his ass, permitting her to grope it. She could bite it if she wanted, he hardly cared. She squeaked, eliciting a devilish smile against her mouth.

He wanted to reassure her. He wanted her to know that she didn’t need to get drunk anymore to permit herself to love him. She could confess her deepest desires and he’d listen to each and every one.

Kissing her hard, Sesshoumaru inhaled her scent and dragged his lips across her cheek, hissing lowly in her ear;

“I love you too, foolish woman.”

#Sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #Asks

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dumbikawa · 4 years ago

Text

Silent Promises (Oikawa x Reader)

Fem!Reader | 1.5k Words | Angst to Fluff

WARNINGS: implied/mentioned drinking, drunk reader, some cursing, angst but not a lot

Summary: You’ve finally had enough of him missing date nights due to staying late at practice, so you decide to go out without him.

A/N: This is my first post!!! AHH please send in requests if you’d like, i’m really excited to write some!! (i hope this is good i’m a little rusty)

You’ve been waiting for Oikawa to come home for two hours now. Before he left this morning, you made sure to remind him about the plans you two had with some of your friends tonight, and could only hope that he wouldn’t go too overboard at practice. However, after seven unread texts and three missed calls, it’s pretty clear he completely forgot.

It’s been so long since you and Tooru had a night out or, honestly, any sort of date that didn’t revolve around sitting on the couch watching movies. Now, you loved those intimate nights with him, but you missed dressing up and making his jaw drop. It was obvious what you were getting yourself into when you first started dating Oikawa at the beginning of third year. His passion and drive are just a couple of the things you admire most about him. But he’d also made it clear that he knew what he was doing by getting into a relationship where he’d have to learn to share his time.

The sound of the door opening catches your attention for a moment, but you swiftly turn back to mindlessly scrolling through your phone. You have every right to give him a little bit of the cold shoulder routine right now.

“Hey, babe. Sorry, practice ran longer than expected,” Oikawa sighs, exhaustion lacing his words. He sets his bag down in the hallway before making his way towards you. “Wow, you look incredible. Meeting up with friends?” You bite the inner skin of your lip, trying to suppress the anger that’s begun to boil over.

“Did you look at your phone?” you ask, still refusing to turn your attention towards him even though you’d usually already be giving him a welcome home peck on the lips. Silence hangs heavy in the air between the two of you as he unlocks his phone and reads the texts you’d sent nearly three hours ago now.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, shuffling his feet back and forth, unsure of how to make this situation better. “I lost track of time and--”

“Tooru! I don’t want your excuses this time! I want you to listen to me and put me first for once. I’m your significant other, I don’t think I’m asking for too much!” You shove yourself up from off the couch and look at him. He rakes his eyes over you, taking in your bold lipstick and strappy heels. You do the same, noticing how his hair is tousled and sticking up at all different angles from him continually running his hands through the sweaty strands. His apologetic expression switches to one of annoyance as he turns away from you.

“Y/n, I’d never ask you to put me before your career--”

“That’s because you don’t have to!” He refuses to make eye contact as he moves towards the door to pick up his bag. You remember when you used to dress up and he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you. Now, you just feel stupid.

“This isn’t fair, y/n. I’m exhausted, okay? And I need to shower, so can we talk about this later?” There’s no time for you to respond before he’s turning on his heels and moving towards your shared bedroom. You stay rooted in place, utterly dumbfounded. The bedroom door swings closed and you can faintly hear the sound of the shower switching on through the wall.

Tears sting your eyes as you lean forward and quickly try to blink them away. There was no way you’d be ending this night with mascara tears cascading down your face; you’d spent way too long on this look and this mascara wasn’t waterproof. This was supposed to be a fun night between the two of you to make up for how busy he’d been lately, but now maybe it’s a self-care party. I will not let this ruin my night. At the very least, you needed a drink and to dance with your friends to reassure yourself that you’re hot and don't need Oikawa to remind you of that.

While you’re sure he can’t hear you over the running water of the shower, you snatch your purse off the counter and slip confidently out the door.

Oikawa knew he’d messed up as soon as he closed the bedroom door. A pile of rejected outfits were strewn about your side of the bed and you’d left your makeup laid out along the sink. He loves watching you get ready to go out. How you’d jump from one thing to another with seemingly no rhyme or reason, but he knew the methods to your madness. You’d begin applying makeup then get up to fix your hair just to avoid doing your liner for another few minutes.

When one of his teammates asked him to stay late to practice spikes, he hadn’t thought twice about it. Stepping into the warm water of the shower further clears his mind and forces him to reflect on the last few weeks. You’re completely right; he’d been taking you for granted. It was too easy for him to get caught up in getting better to be the best, that he didn’t consider how unreasonable it was to expect you to wait for him.

He steps out of the shower and quickly towels off. You deserved a good night and he’s going to try and make this better any way he can. Maybe there would still be time for him to hurriedly get changed, but when he went to ask your opinion he realized you were gone. He’d expected you to still be on the couch, yet the apartment was quiet. Fear plagues his mind as he rapidly dials your number, hoping you pick up. This must be what it’s like to wait for me, he thinks. I should’ve at least texted her.

An uneasy feeling begins to pool in the pit of his stomach as the call goes to voicemail. What if you’d finally had enough? What if his worst fear has come true; he lost you and it was all his fault.

With nothing else to do, he begins hanging up the clothes you left on the bed. He’s seen you in almost every one of them before. It was incredible how you could turn any event into a runway where all eyes are trained on you. He loved it because he was always there by your side. Tonight, though, he can’t protect you or admire the confidence you exude. There’s that feeling in his stomach growing again. He moves from the closet to the bathroom to carefully place the cosmetics back in their assigned drawers. It’s all just making him feel worse.

A little while later, his phone begins to go off. It’s been a couple hours since you left and he’s fine with you still being mad as long as he knows you’re okay. He feels his body physically deflate as Iwa’s name pops up on the screen, although he would appreciate a distraction.

“Shittykawa, what did you do?” Oikawa’s mouth hangs open momentarily, running through the various things he’s done wrong the last few days trying to decide what he might be referring to. “Y/n is at the bar wasted and when I asked where you were she said something about ‘probably making out with a volleyball’ before taking another shot.” If he wasn’t so overwhelmed with worry and guilt he might’ve been able to choke out a laugh, but all he can think about is how desperately he wants to have you back safe in his arms.

“Is she okay? I’m coming right now, please take care of her.”

“Don’t worry, you stay there. I’m bringing her back to the apartment. Just...y/n is good for you. Don’t be a dumbass and spend some time with her.”

A few minutes pass and there’s a loud knock at the door. Oikawa shoots off the couch to help your stumbling figure through the door. He exchanges a quick, grateful look to his spikey-haired friend before shutting the door and turning his full attention to you.

“Hey, let’s go take your makeup off and get you some water.” He manages to lead you to the bedroom where you make yourself comfortable on the floor. This isn’t the first time he’s taken off your makeup for you, so he’s familiar with your specific routine.

“Tooru,” you whisper, looking through your lashes up at him. The little gesture is enough to make him beam. “You’re a dick.” And as quickly as it appeared, the smile is slapped off his face at your words.

“Yeah,” he laughs sadly, “I am a dick.” His response makes you frown and shake your head back and forth, contradictory to the statement you’d just expressed.

“No, you’re not! Don’t say that.” That elicits a genuine laugh from him as you close your eyes and lean into his touch. He isn’t quite certain what he should say, so he continues to hold your face as he wipes the last bits of mascara away. In that moment, he makes a silent promise to never leave you waiting again.

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa torū #oikawa fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x y/n

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bjornthorsson20 · 4 years ago

Text

All I Do Is For You

"Just one drink."

Ron Weasley was not having the evening he had planned out. He had gotten home earlier today, surprising his wife Hermione, excited to deliver her the news of his recent resignation from the Auror Corps. With his wife now pregnant, Ron thought it would be good to settle down into a less life-threatening job, so he had asked George if the offer to come work with him still stood. George had told him he could start as soon as the month was over, which left Ron at least two more weeks to resign from his post in the Auror office and meet up with his brother at the shop to discuss business.

Harry had, of course, expressed his sadness over the news, no longer having his friend as his partner, but he understood Ron's reasons entirely and reassured him of his support, wishing Ron luck in whatever new endeavors he decided to pursue in this new chapter of his life. Leaving Harry had been the toughest part of this decision, but Ron was absolutely sure of what he wanted, and that was a future with Hermione and their kids with a stable job to provide for them without worrying them sick if he was going to get back home everyday.

He arrived home with the biggest grin plastered on his face, almost bursting into the living room to wrap Hermione into a hug and twirl her around as he told her of his plans. The grin fell off his face as soon as he started rambling excitedly, and realized she wasn't grinning back. Instead, she was frowning deeper and deeper as he went on, looking at him disapprovingly, which Ron had to admit hurt a bit; he felt like he was back at Hogwarts, having told her he forgot to finish his essay with that sheepish smile he knew would get her to help him out.

But the words that came out of her mouth were even worse.

"You can't do that, Ron!" she exclaimed heatedly in that familiar bossy tone.

Ron was not expecting this reaction at all, and it took a moment to register what she had just said, but when he did, all he felt was confusion. It didn't help that his temper had started to rise.

"And why is that?" his voice already had a dangerous edge to it, as he tried reigning in his growing anger he knew would cause a massive blow up.

"You shouldn't make a decision like that just because of me!" she shrieked louder, clearly not trying to control her own temper. Ron knew it wouldn't be good for her or the baby if this situation got too heated, so he needed to try and calm her down.

"What do you mean?" he attempted to keep his voice neutral, only succeeding in hiding his irritation a little bit, but it didn't matter because Hermione seemed to be making no effort to avoid rowing with him.

"You should've consulted me first!" her words pierced him deep, and not just in volume, but the weight of their implication.

You should've consulted me first. Why? He was a grown man, capable of making his own damn decisions! Clearly, she didn't think so, if she thought he had to go to her every time he wanted to take a new step in his life. He thought she had seen him maturing, had seen the responsible individual he had become in all of their years since Hogwarts. They had been married for nearly six years now for Merlin's sake, and he was still being treated like a stupid toddler! All he wanted was to surprise her with a bit of news that should've sent her over the moon in elation; he was doing this for her and their baby. She should've been proud, not hacked off, snapping at him.

He couldn't take this anymore, he needed to get away before he said something he'd really regret.

"Consulted you first? Hermione, I-" he cut himself off before blowing out a large breath, rubbing his hair and his face in exasperation.

"I just th-"

He didn't let her finish. Instead, he quickly turned towards the entrance and told her hurriedly that he needed to be alone for a bit and promised her he would come back before their usual bedtime.

And that's how he now found himself in a little muggle pub in London, a distance away from the Leaky Cauldron. He knew Hermione wouldn't think to look for him here, and since she was pregnant, fast wizarding travel wouldn't be an option, so it would be a while before he was found. All the more time for him to blow off steam and sort out his emotions to confront her in a more level-headed way later.

He was finally served his drink, and was about to down it when a voice from behind made his body tense up.

"Ron?"

He slowly put the glass down before sighing, finally turning towards the source of the voice he'd recognize anywhere.

"Hey." His tone indicated he was still holding on to his previous irritation. But then he noticed her puffy red eyes, which meant she had been crying for a while now, and immediately all of his previous anger and annoyance melted away as he took two long strides, engulfing her in a comforting hug, She continued to sob on his chest.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay, love." He attempted to soothe her by caressing her hair and back in that practiced manner he got from years of unwinding her. No matter how hacked off he may have been with her before, he never wanted to see her cry, especially if he was the cause, which was just ten times worse.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, darling." She started to calm down a bit, her sobs subsiding, but she still struggled to get the words out through her hiccups.

"Love, it's okay, really."

"No, Ron, it's not okay, please don't downplay this now just because I'm a sobbing mess. I'm sorry for how I handled all of this. You have to know that I'm very very proud of you, and I'm happy beyond words for your decision, truly, I totally support you." He could tell she was trying to keep her voice steady, though it still came out a little shaky.

He gulped, knowing that there was a "but" in somewhere in there. "I believe you. I do," he breathed in and closed his eyes, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic. "So why did you react like that, then?" Ron tried not to let the hurt resurface, but he couldn't help it.

"Because…" He felt her pull away to lift her head from his chest, and he opened his eyes meeting her gaze. "Because I didn't want to feel like I was forcing you to make a decision you didn't want to just to make me happy." Her lower lip trembled and another tear escaped, trailing down her left cheek as Ron raised his right thumb to wipe it away before cupping her cheeks, which just made Hermione tear up more.

"Hermione, I'd never do such a thing, I can promise you that. I won't ever feel pressured into doing anything I'm not comfortable with. This decision came to me because I want to start a safer job for our family." As he said this, he moved one hand to her belly. “One that won't leave you and our kids worrying for me every day. It had nothing to do with me feeling forced to resign so you would be happier."

She was speaking very shyly now, as if she was embarrassed for being so emotional before. "It's just that you always said you wanted to be a part of the Aurors and you seemed so content with that, so I felt guilty for wanting you to have a less risking job. When you came home earlier so excited about it, I felt so overwhelmed by everything that it just came out all wrong when I tried explaining myself. I take back everything I said. You shouldn't have had to consult me for that. You're not a child, you're completely responsible for decisions such as this and I totally understand that."

"And you know I already forgave you," he offered her a smile that she returned. "I'm sorry, too, for leaving like I did, I shouldn't have done that." He looked away and tried not to think back to that time — he had already let that guilt go and both Hermione and Harry had forgiven him long before that.

She nudged his face to look back at her before speaking in a soft tone, "You don't need to be sorry for that. You did the right thing. Sometimes it gets to be too much and you need to step away and let your mind cool down a bit before you end up saying or doing something you'll regret. As long as you come back, I won't ever hold it against you."

Fuck, he loved this woman. She always knew just when to say the right thing to make him feel instantly better. He lowered his lips gently to hers as he tried to convey just how much he felt for her even after all their years together; he knew those feelings would never change.

She reluctantly pulled away as she whispered, "Let's go home," her voice laced with want.

He nodded, before remembering what he meant to ask her from the beginning, "How did you find me, by the way?"

She blushed then, like a kid caught with their hand on the cookie jar, before muttering, "I knew you wouldn't be in any places I was already familiar with, so I flooed George to ask if he knew where you might've gone, and he told me you came in here with him shortly after the war to talk about Fred. I jotted down the address and headed to Diagon Alley so I could get here through the Leaky and then took a taxi."

She was brilliant, and he told her so for only the umpteenth time, watching as she smiled in that way she did after a compliment to her intellect.

"Let's head home then, so we can dance to those Beedles you love playing on the radio." He gave her his trademarked lopsided grin that he knew left her feeling all hot and bothered.

"The Beatles, Ronald, honestly!" she exclaimed in a tone of mock indignation, but couldn't help cracking a small smile from the corner of her mouth.

"You know I love to rile you up." He winked to convey to her he knew exactly what the correct name was.

"Oh, yeah? Well, two can play that game," she bit her lip while grinning, something she knew very well left him wanting her immediately.

"Hermione…" He all but groaned her name, his body already responding to her.

"Yes, darling?" Her seductive tone paired with that endearment she knew drove him crazy was making it very hard for him to control himself out in the streets.

"C'mere," He growled, already stepping closer to her.

She shook her head and started backing away still biting her lip and giggling, clearly having way too much fun torturing him like that.

He wasn't having it, though. He grabbed her, making sure to be gentle, and started carrying her bridal style.

"Ronald! Put me down this instant! You're going in the wrong direction!" She tried sounding reprimanding through her fit of laughter but all it did was make him walk faster.

"Nope, we are heading to an inn nearby, because I'm not waiting to get home to have you. You've been very naughty, Mrs. Weasley." He knew she loved when he did his version of the "McGonagall voice."

"Oh, is that so? Then I suppose you will hand me a punishment?" She slid into the role of innocent student very well, even now.

He dipped his head to whisper in her ear, "It ain't a punishment if you enjoy it, huh?" Feeling her shiver at his tone made him want her even more urgently.

Before they entered the inn, he said, "You were actually right about one thing, love."

"Oh?"

"I was content with being an Auror. But I'm truly happy just being with you, no matter what my career might be. All I do is for you."

And he meant every word.

As Hermione beamed at him, already tearing up once again, she captured his lips in a heated kiss. Ron considered how incredibly lucky he was. He had survived a bloody war, went through so much heartbreak and grief, but now had a whole new journey ahead of him about to begin with the love of his life by his side for the whole ride. Because it never truly ends until it's all over.

#romione #romione fanfic #romione drabble #ron x hermione #ron weasley #hermione granger #harry potter #george weasley #fanfiction #bjornthorsson20

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

The Truck - ep. 08 - Georgia

Summary: You stop by on break to visit Daryl at the auto shop. The Jeep is almost done being repaired.

A/N: I think basically I’m writing an even slower burn than last time.

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“I think ya ain’t as smart as ya tell me ya are,” Daryl joked as he caught sight of you walking into Dale’s Autobody shop, still in your uniform from the diner. Three days after Christmas and you’d been working as many hours as Patricia would give you. Both you and your mom trying to stay away from the house and each other as much as possible.

“I most definitely am. Why?” You asked, ducking your head down into the car he was working on when he sat down in the front seat. A newer model Nissan he’d been cursing since the owner brought it in.

“Cause I tell ya all the time not ta come in here and where are ya?” He asked, looking over at you.

“It’s not my fault, Axel said you said you’re almost done my baby.” You teased. Axel had told you over ordering his lunch that Daryl had mentioned to T-Dog that he was nearly done the work on the Jeep. Took a while, he had lamented, but he was finally, almost done. “Heard you’re glad to be rid of me.”

“Ain’t what I said,” he replied, “said I was glad ta be rid a that fucking jeep. Pain in my ass.”

“Now I know you’re talking about me.”

Daryl’s expression changed for a brief second, eyes fixing on the faint pink lines on your cheek. Barely noticeable but they hadn’t been there before Christmas. “What happened?” He tapped his finger against the same spot on his face to indicate what he was asking about.

“Just a cat scratch. Hershel’s got a couple to keep the mice away and I couldn’t resist trying to pet one.”

“They’re nasty creatures…yer lucky he didn’t take yer whole face off.” He replied, climbing back out of the car again. “Ya on break?”

You shook your head, “I picked up a shift from Amy, I got an hour to kill before I start for her.”

“Ain’t I lucky.”

“So, is my car really almost fixed?” You asked. You pulled the rolling stool over from the work bench and sat down, spinning once.

“Just about.” He replied.

Daryl hated to admit it but he’d been dragging his feet on the project and when he realized that he was nearing completion and your car would be fixed he was half tempted to break it all over again. Sure, you liked stopping in now, chatting him up before or after a shift, bumming rides, showing up at his house to spend your afternoons sitting under the car park. But once the car was fixed you wouldn’t need him to entertain you anymore. You could go to your friends houses or anywhere really, but you didn’t have to hang out with him. He wasn’t going to tell you yet but he’d let it slip to T-Dog and once one of them knew they practically broadcast it.

“You working late?” You asked, wheeling yourself over next to him.

“Why, ya don’t know anyone else with a car?”

“Why bother them when I have you?” You tilted your head back to look up at him and smile. You looked like a little kid with your eyes closed and a smile wide enough that he could see all your teeth.

He rolled his eyes at you and reached over, swiping his greasy finger down your nose and making you jump suddenly at the contact. Your eyes opened and you slid back against the car. “Careful ya don’t scratch her.”

“Did you rub grease on my nose!” You whined, trying to rub it off with the back of your hand but only making more of a mess.

Daryl shrugged, “ain’t nice ta tease.”

“Do you have a bathroom here?”

He pointed toward the back of the shop and you got up, headed for the bathroom to wipe the grease off your face.

In truth Daryl wasn’t the only one who wasn’t looking forward to the car being fixed. Your throat felt like it dropped into your stomach when Axel told you that Daryl was almost finished the car. It sent you thinking...if Daryl told Axel did that mean he was glad it was almost finished? Was he looking forward to having you out of his hair finally? You scrubbed the grease off your face and frowned at your reflection. You didn’t want this to end.

“So, ya need a ride later?” Daryl asked once you came out of the bathroom.

“Yeah if you don’t mind.” You replied.

“Nah,” he shrugged as if he was indifferent toward driving you home, “ain’t got nothing better ta do.”

You hung around a little while longer before you headed back to the diner for work. The whole night you felt distracted by Axel’s news from earlier. You were desperate to get some advice from Maggie but there wasn’t much she could offer, Glenn didn’t need any persuading to be madly in love with her. They’d been together since the 6th grade winter dance and there was no doubt in your mind that nothing, not even Hershel’s stupid rules, could keep them apart.

Glenn and Maggie were the exception to the rule. Daryl wasn’t tripping over himself to profess his love for you. Half the time you weren’t even totally sure that he liked you. There were glimpses of something that might’ve been something but trust you to choose someone so hard to read. You spent the whole dinner rush trying to think up less costly ways to spend time with him that wouldn’t annoy him or make him feel like you were some stupid kid. The word kid alone was not necessarily something you wanted him to associate with you.

The idea sparked when he pulled up outside at the end of your shift, parking his truck by the door. You ignored Lori’s comment about Dixon’s being bad news. She ‘went to school with him’ and somehow that had made her the only reputable source on him, at least in her mind. Coupled with the fact that it was Daryl driving you home you were just happy to be done work.

“I hate the dinner rush,” you complained as you pulled the door shut and leaned against the seat. “This lady bitched me out over the table having a mark in it, meanwhile her kids were dunking every fucking sugar packet, jam packet, and salt packet into their cups of water and then splashing them all over the table!”

“Musta really boiled yet blood if it’s got ya cursing.”

“I can curse.”

“I’m sure ya can.” He teased.

You pouted, arms crossed over your chest as you slumped in the seat and Daryl reached over, jabbing you gently with his fingers against your side when he stopped at a streetlight. You laughed from the sudden sensation and pushed his hand away.

“I’m not allowed to curse at home but I can curse.” You insisted and he only shook his head, smiling.

“Think yer a little too sweet ta be hanging around me.”

“Nonsense. I like hanging out with you.” You replied, “which reminds me-“

“Yeah, what now?”

“How would you feel about teaching me some basic car stuff? I don’t know anything about cars and I’d really like to learn.”

It was the plan that had finally occurred to you halfway through your shift. You didn’t know the first thing about changing oil or fixing a tire. Hell, you couldn’t even fill it with air if you wanted to.

“Yer dad never teach ya how ta handle a car?”

“No, I don’t even know how to put windshield washer in it.”

“A’right, I’ll teach ya. After I finish working on yer car.” He replied. You had only been considering yourself when you formulated your master plan but Daryl couldn’t help the brief flutter of excitement that he felt thinking you’d decided to ask him to help. Even if it was just so you could navigate the basics it still meant that you would willingly be spending more time with him.

“Seriously?” You asked, smiling over at him.

“Yeah, why not? Ya should know how ta fix yer car.” He replied, “simple stuff…still gotta make money.”

“I might get so good I’ll steal your business.” You replied.

“Sure ya could.” He pulled up where he always did, your house visible from his spot parking along the sidewalk. It was dark, just the post lantern by the front of the driveway on. “Yer parents ain’t home?” No cars were in the driveway.

“My mom’s already left for work.” You shrugged, opening the door to the truck.

“She be gone all night?”

“I can stay by myself, promise.” You laughed to make a joke of it but you usually spent the night in the living room, talking to Tara or Maggie until they eventually went to sleep. You hated being home alone.

“I ain’t got anywhere ta be.” Daryl shrugged, offering some company.

“You don’t mind staying?”

The inside of your house was exactly what Daryl had expected. A far cry from the worn down, dirty home that he lived in with his father, this was pristine. As if no one had ever sat on the furniture or lived in the house. There weren’t any family pictures but there was Christian art in its place. Tasteful, Martha Stewart-esque Christmas decorations were highlighted through out the living room and kitchen, both spotless.

Daryl pulled a face at the décor at you laughed, “my mom went on a pier one kick a few years ago trying to outdo the Walshs.”

“Can’t complain, it’s nicer than mine ever was.” He replied, looking over the table top tree, “yer dad at work too?”

“No. I mean, he’s away. Visiting family.” You said, heading into the kitchen, “my mom works overnight at the hospital, she’s been doing a lot doubles lately though. I’ll be right out, I’m gonna change!”

Daryl nodded but didn’t say anything, flicking on the rest of the living room lights to get a better look at the room. The only pictures that weren’t nature landscapes or birds were on the mantle. A church directory photo of you and your parents from this year and your senior portrait, the traditional black off the shoulder look with a rose in your hand.

“I hate that picture,” you complained as you came back into the room. “I look hideous.”

“Don’t think that’s possible but I ain’t gonna argue.” Daryl replied. “Least I ain’t the only one who don’t have family pictures up.”

“My mom hates candid pictures. She’d never hang them up.” You settled on the couch and watched as Daryl walked back to the door to kick his shoes off. “I don’t have beer but there’s soda in the fridge.”

“I ain’t ever drinking beer ‘round you again. Yer a terrible influence. Ain’t Glenn Hershel should be worried ‘bout.” Daryl teased, coming over to sit beside you.

“What? No! I am not a bad influence!” You laughed, “I’ve never done anything wrong in my whole life.”

“I been witness to a few things.”

“No one will believe you.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He said, thinking briefly that no one would even believe he was here right now, sitting your house with you while you clicked through channels. He’d be hard pressed to convince them that you had even bummed a cigarette off him, especially if they saw the sweet looking church photo of you with your parents.

“So what kind of car things will you teach?” You asked, ignoring the channel you’d chosen and turning more toward Daryl.

“What kinda car things ya need ta learn?”

“Everything but how to drive?” You replied, biting your lip.

“Well I ain’t seen ya drive so I can’t cross it off the list just yet.”

“I’m a good driver.”

“Yeah? You working tomorrow morning?” He asked, looking back toward the TV.

“No, I’ve got off.”

“Alright, I gotta pick up my check in Woodbury, I’ll let you drive me for once.”

“In my Jeep?”

“Hell no, ya ain’t getting in that thing ‘fore it’s fixed. You can drive the truck.” He replied. The truck was his brother Merle’s originally but Merle was in jail and he hadn’t spent the last three years fixing every inch of it to have it running like new. It might’ve been Merle’s to begin with but that old Chevy was Daryl’s pride and joy. He didn’t let anyone get behind the wheel, not even Rick or T-Dog, but he was offering it up to you.

“I’ll be the best driver you’ve ever seen.”

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#georgia series #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon au #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fic #the walking dead fanfiction #The Walking Dead AU #twd fanfiction #twd fic #twd au #twd fanfic #twd imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #collecting stories imagine

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bakugohoex · 4 years ago

Text

chapter four ➺ worthy allies

pairing: pro hero katsuki bakugo x pro hero female reader

cw: language and angry boi, violence

word count: 2400+

a/n: i don’t know why i’m posting this at mid day but enjoy and i’d appreciate any support and views on this series

summary: in which enemies become allies and by the end of the night your past friends become nothing as you prove your worthiness to the paranormal liberation front

chapter three | masterlist | chapter five

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

“How long do we have to wait?” You leant against the abandoned buildings sooty wall, your dress a mess, Hawks having said he’d bring your hero costumes but you both heard nothing from the flying hero.

“Can you be fucking patient?” Bakugo seethed at you, you played around moving some of the rocks with your fingers back and forth.

You dropped the rocks bored out of your mind, it had been hours and you bot had been waiting for a sign that they had seen your message, you thought it’d be easy for them to find you, using an old base they used years ago. It seemed perfect in theory but waiting with Bakugo was straining.

“Next time, don’t get all creepy with slitting the president up.” You glared at the boy.

“You better pray there isn’t a next time.” You folded your arms, leaning downwards, until you felt the grainy ground attack your thighs and ass. “I thought we did a decent job.”

“You fit being a sadist too well.” He muttered looking out of the window, wanting some sort of sign that this wasn’t all for nothing.

“What can I say? I learnt from you.” You teased, he looked back at you, noticing how your legs were out, you had ripped the end of your dress as soon as you and Bakugo landed. Feeling you so close had made him feel odd, he hated how close you both had, had to get and worst of all, you had been having the time of your life in the air.

“Shut up shitty woman.” He turned back to the sky, you both heard footsteps, instantly both your quirks activated, explosions from Bakugo’s hand and your hands ready to move the wood from the broken chair to stab whoever it was.

“Bakugo, what do we do?” You ask him.

He moved towards you with an even more confused look, “how the fuck should I know?”

The door opens wide and you see a man with a top hat, white boots and a long orange coat. Both you and Bakugo put down your quirks, staring at him, “before I get started with what Shigaraki wants, I have to tell you, you’re performance was absolute divine, especially you miss Y/l/n, who knew stupid pro heroes like you were capable of creating such a villainous scene.”

You remembered from your days at UA exactly who the man was, he was able to compress anything into marbles. Both you and Bakugo were silent, the man moving forwards, “catch.”

He threw a marble, which Bakugo caught, a note being formed out due to his quirk. He leant against the wall, watching the two of you, “you both have grown.”

You ignored his mindless chatter reading the note.

‘We saw your little show,

You didn’t think it would be that easy to join us, did you?

Kill Shoto Todoroki and then we’ll know your worthy.’

Both Bakugo and you looked at each other, you looked at Mr Compress who was waiting for a response. “We’ll kill him.” You both spoke aloud a joyful grimace of your face; anybody would’ve been creeped out at how villainous the two of you had gotten in a week.

“He’s at his residence, I’ll take you there and we’ll be watching.” You both nodded, you needed to somehow tell Hawks what was going on, so they could make Todoroki somehow survive.

You walked outside of the alley, making sure to be unseen, before being pushed inside a car. You noticed the same man on the other side of the street, you recognised him from your first meeting with Hawks. Bakugo noticed as well, before you used your quirk on the man.

‘It’s Y/n, you need to call Hawks now and say they want us to kill Todoroki.’

‘Okay ma’am.’ His thoughts had been a pain to get through, but you knew he had at least got it and would tell Hawks to sort something out.

“Y/n, we know what your quirk is, wear this.” He passes you a ring with a clear diamond on top, “use your quirk.”

‘Boo.’ You shouted into Bakugo’s head, he flinched before watching as the ring turn red before a shock went onto your finger.

“What the fuck, I’m not wear…” Bakugo interrupted you by jabbing your side. “How long do I have to wear it for?”

“Just for this little thing, and then afterwards if you succeed you can take it off.” Mr compress almost gleamed at the idea of such high-tech stuff.

When did they get something that shows when a quirk was in use, “I cant use my psychokinesis then.”

“No use it, if you get shocked then you get shocked.” There was no sympathy in his tone, you huffed, your dress ripped and the strap dangling off your shoulder. You looked like you had had too much to drink which after controlling the amount of people you had, it was obvious that you were a tad bit out of it.

“We’re here.” You saw the residence of Shoto, a nice house, it was probably something Endeavor forced onto the poor boy who would rather stay away from his father. You and Shoto hanged out often even after graduating, you both were in contact, trying out new foods that you had seen on YouTube.

“Hurry up.” Bakugo muttered, he had been a lot quieter than usual, your inability to use your telepathy had made it hard for you two too even have a plan.

Both stepping outside, the frigid air hit your body, it was nearing midnight and you hoped Hawks had got your message. Todoroki hadn’t been at the event, having some other business to take care of, but as you stepped closer and closer to his door, memories flooded through of every time you had been to his house. “Let’s go through the window.” You muttered pointing to around the back.

“Don’t get us killed.” Is all Bakugo said as he followed, you used your quirk to unlock the window, a shock being sent through you. “Y/n.” Bakugo spoke cautiously.

“I’m fine.” You muttered, “come on help me up.” He put his hands down for you to use as a leg up, he tried to not look up your dress, but it was unavoidable, as you stood on the window sill, creeping inside

Bakugo followed you both trying to not make a sound, “where is he?” Bakugo muttered.

You stopped him in his tracks as you saw Shoto sitting in his office, papers in his hands as you could see the tired boy. “What do we do?”

Bakugo didn’t speak instead going full throttle at Todoroki, his quirk out, Todoroki’s eyes widened as he witnessed the two of you. “What the fuck, you two, you two are traitors, what are you…”

Even you didn’t know if Hawks had gotten to him, his confusion was very performative. He noticed your confused look, he saw how you weren’t in his head, reading his thoughts. He gave a small nod to point out he knew, and you signed in relief.

“We have to do this; we have to kill you.” You spoke out.

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, he started to think before he noticed something on the floor. Was it gas, or oil, it was something, and it surrounded the whole house. Hawks had a plan, and yeah it might’ve taken a while to get there, you understood.

“Y/n, Bakugo, why?” Todoroki was eerily good at this performance, “after all these years you both are just throwing it away.”

“Priorities change, being a hero, there’s nothing from it.” You spoke, Bakugo’s explosions were getting bigger and bigger in his hands. He looked down and you noticed his eyeline, a trap door underneath his which you assumed would make him safe.

“You were always evil.” Todoroki finally spoke, Bakugo knew this to be a que to start.

He smirked before looking at you, “to be evil you need to have evil motivations, we just find this fun.”

He spoke a loud, you didn’t expect him to say something like this, he was getting into the character a lot better than you had expected. “You’re going to burn, Y/n suppress his quirk.” You knew you would have to and as you felt a shock run through you, you made sure his quirk was suppressed if you tried to communicate with the boy, the shocks would intensify.

Bakugo threw the explosions at the ground, an explosion about to happen, as the house began to be engulphed in flames. You grabbed the piece of dress that had been around your wrist to help with your movement and left it inside the room. Bakugo grabbed your waist, before he sent an explosion making you both fly out of the window backwards. A large boom was heard from the house as you saw the top explode.

The shocks stopped as you felt dazed and confused, Mr Compress having brought the car up. He made you both side inside, you sat side by side, as he watched intentively driving you to another destination. You took the ring off, throwing it to the side as your finger was red and bruised.

Bakugo grabbed your hand slowly and unnoticeably, ‘They were listening in, I had to say the bullshit’

‘And I thought you were just getting into it’

‘Shut up, where do you think he’s taking us?’

‘I don’t know, I hope Shoto’s okay though?’

‘Icy Hot doesn’t need you worrying’

It was the last thing Bakugo thought before removing his hands off yours, this subtle action was a sign that you wanted to talk using telepathy and it was a lot more convenient than you had thought out.

“And goodbye.” You hadn’t noticed Mr Compress stopping the car, he turned back around facing the two of you. Before he grabbed both of your shoulders, making you turn into blue spherical marbles, grabbing the two marbles, he stepped outside of the car.

Walking towards the Front’s base with you both in his pocket, he smiled hearing the TV on, it was like a show and everything was working out perfectly. He skipped along, before being met with Tomura, Dabi, Toga and Spinner were all watching a TV screen. “You got them.”

Tomura was the one to spoke, as you felt yourself re-awaken from being inside a marble. It was gross and you hated it, Bakugo looked pissed but still you both were put on wooden chairs and watched over. The Tv still blaring the news out, “seems like you two have turned sides.”

“Good, evil, there’s no difference anymore.” You muttered crossing your legs and folding your arms.

“Stoic words for a woman I saw murder countless villains.” You raised an eyebrow at Tomura.

You looked at Bakugo, who stretched his legs out watching the screen, both your faces broadcasted for Japan to see and the burnt Todoroki’s house where a member of the commission had announced him dead. “If you want me to feel sympathy, I just killed someone who was my friend, I’m far from emotional.”

“That’s what we want to hear and you Bakugo, joining us after how many years?” Bakugo looked at them with a shock.

“Five.” He blew a bit of his hair from his eyes, his battered shirt exposing his arms and abdomen, you both looked like a mess.

Tomura stood up walking towards you, you knew how easily his quirk worked and you had a fear that if all five fingers touched you, you were doomed. One of his frail fingers glided up and down your cheek. “We’re keeping her.” He mutters turning to Bakugo.

“You, we need to work on you.” Tomura points a finger at Bakugo before walking away. “We need to see if you’re worthy allies” He shouted as he walked towards the bar.

‘We have just received from the commission who have found a piece of Y/n Y/l/n’s dress inside the Todoroki house, we can assume that her and Katsuki Bakugo were the ones who murdered pro hero Shoto Todoroki, son of number one pro hero Endeavor’

“What? Sad to see your brother dead?” You spoke hesitantly breaking the sound of the news reporter to Dabi.

“Who do you think proposed the idea to make you kill him?” A laugh came from him as both you and Bakugo looked at each other.

“You both still need to prove your loyalties, but we have these.” Toga finally spoke happily, she showed you two bags that were on the floor. “They’re your clothes and hero costumes.”

“You went to our apartments.” Bakugo was almost seething knowing someone was at his place.

“Of course we had to get your stuff before the mean commission people took your stuff, Y/n, wear your costume for us.” She smiled grabbing your hand and taking the bag, “we’re going to be best of friends.”

“Umm, okay.” You got dragged along with her as Bakugo was left with the rest of the front in silence.

‘Don’t be yourself.’ You spoke inside his head.

He didn’t reply, as they had all turned to their own thing before he noticed Mr Compress looking at him. “What?”

“You have to tell me how you both pulled off that amazing performance.” The man was eager at the showmanship, he knew you’d be pissed if he didn’t try and gain their trust and he went into the long-winded story of how you both thought of the plan. It was long but Mr Compress seemed to be loving it and by the end (minus the façade part) he seemed to be in love with Bakugo and his way of thinking.

“And you thought of it all.” Mr Compress praising Bakugo was something you didn’t need to hear as you were in your hero costume glad you felt something familiarly.

“Y/n, take the sleeves off, Dabi will burn them off for you.”

“W…what?” You spoke hesitantly.

Dabi gave a what the fuck look, not wanting to burn stupid sleeves off. “It’s a sign you’re one of us, if you do it.”

“Okay.” Instead of getting Dabi to do it, you used your powers and grabbed the knife that had been behind the bar Tomura was sitting on. Slicing it through the material quickly. You now had a sleeveless hero costume minus the gloves because Toga called them ugly.

Bakugo stared at how exposed you looked, he never expected to see you like this. So impulsive without the consequences, but it was all a façade to gain their trust, that’s all you were both doing. Making friends to gain their trust and then finally destroy them from the inside.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @susceptible-but-siriusexual @missmultifangirl

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babbushka · 4 years ago

Note

Saying this from a place of compassion and love... if a post criticising you has over 70 notes, the author and people who reblog it are being approached by others agreeing with them, if even anons not within the fandom but who are aware from the situation agree with them (like me)... have you considered they may be right? Please listen. Please do self-introspection. If there’s such a loud message out there it’s because of a reason. Lots of love

I hear you, and I understand where you’re coming from completely, and I’m going to say this as clearly and neatly as I possibly can, because it’s been made very clear that people on the internet like to whip things up and let it spiral out of control.

I reblogged the post that @wayward-rose made with the tags of “i still stand by everything that I said” without much more explanation than that, which people didn’t seem to really appreciate, and I recognize that that was wrong.

This response is going to serve as that explanation. This is most likely going to be long, so I’ll be putting it under a cut, but I hope that people will read my side of things before casting judgement against me. I understand people are going to still cast judgement, and that’s fine, but I would like the chance to just say my side.

The screenshots that were chosen to be put in that callout post about me, of posts and conversations that I’ve had back and forth with people, or posts that I’ve made/ask responses I’ve given, were confusing, because there is much more context surrounding pretty much all of these situations, as well as things that went on behind the scenes. I’d like, if I may, to explain what those screenshots are referring to, from my perspective. For ease of clarity, I’ll just go in the order of which the original post has been done.

The Oscars where JP won for best actor were filled with many beautifully heartfelt speeches about giving support to Australia during the wildfire crisis. Cate Blanchett, Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Aniston on behalf of Russel Crow, Pierce Brosnan -- they all made speeches. And yet, the only thing I was seeing on my dashboard were gifs of JP, a known sexual predator and overall very bad guy, being celebrated for at the very last minute, likely after having seen everyone else include a heartfelt statement in their speech, tacking on a ‘oh save Australia’ at the end of his own speech.

I made a post expressing how I was disappointed with the amount of coverage JP was getting in comparison to how little everyone else who had spoken up. @callmehopeless reblogged the post and began to say that regardless of what JP has done, his message is somehow more important than everyone else’s message that was said, because he won best actor. You all saw the conversation that took place afterwards, with me reiterating my point of ‘yes he spoke out about it but he’s not the only one and he shouldn’t the only one lauded for it.’ and her insinuating that I wanted everyone in Australia to die by fire. Not that it matters for anything, but I would like to mention that while all this was going on, I was frequently sharing support links, donation sites, and news coverage on how to help the wildfires in Australia, as we all were. I didn’t include it on the post, because that’s not what the post was really about, but I disagree with the insinuation that I wasn’t spreading information too.

I still stand by my point that he should not have received the most praise for doing the bare minimum in a time of crisis. I saw that the conversation wasn’t going anywhere, so I ended it. I never accused anyone of being a rape apologist, I only expressed my frustration that the known allegations about him were being ignored. There is a difference.

The second point regarding the blush, I will admit wasn’t handled well on my part. I fully recognize that now, and looking back, I can understand how my frustration with @wayward-rose looks hostile. It was never intended to be hostile, I was just genuinely confused with her reblogging one of my fics as having a “white reader” because of the inclusion of blush. I was extremely hesitant to approach TWR about this tagging of the fic, because the only interactions I had had previously with her, were when she reblogged one of my posts with writing of her own, surrounding a topic that I was uncomfortable with, and then proceeded to lecture me on what triggers are and are not as if I were an incompetent fool, which, for all intents and purposes, she might’ve thought that I was. Conversations with TWR very quickly turn to technicalities, which is why I tried to be as cut and dry about it as I was.

With this frame of reference from her point of view regarding the whole “I have friends of color so I can do whatever I want,” I would like to say that I never had that intention, and seeing it presented that way does make me feel awful, and I’m sorry for it. I don’t want people to think that I’m in any way tokenizing anyone, because if you know me, you know that that’s something I am constantly expressing feelings against. I was trying to explain that I didn’t make up this idea that only white people blush, but I admit fully that it was a poor explanation and a poor argument to have been made. I try very hard to make my readers as vague in terms of skin color as possible, and I thought that because I didn’t mention the color of the blush (like denoting it as a pink or rosy blush for example) that I would be inclusive. I was wrong, and I admit that.

In regards to the writing of Flip Zimmerman with catholic iconography even though he’s a canonically Jewish character, particularly by a non-Jewish author, I still stand by my point. Characters who have no stated religion can and should be interpreted as everyone sees fit, because representation matters for marginalized communities. But when a Jewish character’s identity is replaced or erased with another, well, that’s just a small piece of a long line of casual antisemitism that I wanted to bring up to her. I never wanted or told her to delete her story, I never sent anyone to go fill her inbox, I never told her to edit it. After the blush discussion, I tried to simply end the argument by voicing my concerns and saying I thought it was in poor taste to have done what she did, because of the history around such topics -- and I still stand by that.

The posts regarding the Very Popular Fic I take full responsibility for, I don’t deny that I make them, nor do I deny any of the sentiments in them. I expressed my annoyance at constantly being asked if I’ve read that fic, if I liked that fic, what I thought of that fic weekly for months and months after it blew up on tik tok, despite having expressed my dislike for it in the past. You can only get asked something so many times before it grates on your nerves.

I still stand by my point that seeing content which you find upsetting being the type of content that gets “””famous”” is frustrating. I didn’t imply that I’m only writing for the notes. I referred to the fic as a ‘joke’ because in the tags of that fic on AO3, the author compares it to a shitpost. Similarly to the Other Fic with the handmaid’s tale AU, the author themselves put in the tags of the fic on AO3 that they knew this was in poor taste.

I’d like to make it clear that I don’t dislike fics because they’re popular. I dislike fics because sometimes there’s content that I find disturbing or damaging, or in poor taste with regards to source material. I don’t go out of my way to read that content, because I don’t like it. So when hundreds of people are asking my opinions about it, and I express those opinions, then people like to jump down my throat and say I’m a bully...you can imagine why I get so snappish when the topic comes up. The comment about the brain cells thing was understandably harsh. I apologize for that comparison, it’s just a phrase I say frequently, I honestly didn’t think anything of it at the time, and I’ll do better in the future to not make such harsh comparisons.

I also stand by my point that I don’t like the fic, I don’t advocate for the fic, and it really shouldn’t matter what I think because the author will do what the author does, and that’s fine. I don’t have to like it, and you guys don’t have to like the fact that I dislike it.

When someone sends in a message anonymously, I have no idea who they are, and most of the time, unless they leave an emoji or something, I’ve got no idea what context they’re asking me about, particularly when it comes to blocking. I had absolutely no way of knowing that the anon who messaged me asking why I blocked them, was someone I had blocked for reblogging gifs of mine. However, the idea that it’s a bad thing that I blocked someone for reblogging my gifs with comments I didn’t really appreciate (I wouldn’t have blocked them for the comments shown in the fic, usually it’s stuff about how they want to get pregnant by flip, or once there was someone who commented that they wanted flip to destroy their pussy -- that’s the comments that tend to get blocked.

But either way, blocking people from accessing your content is not a bad thing, and I stand by my point that blocking does not always mean I have anything personally against them, but rather I’d rather just not interact with their posts/have them interact with mine. It’s really not that deep.

I don’t really know how many times I have to say that of course I don’t own a character or anything, but I do say it, constantly. Particularly regarding personal AUs, which, I really don’t find as deep as people seem to think I do. However, the content that I make, I do believe I have some right to voice my opinion on what the internet does with it. I think that if someone comments something on one of my fics, or my posts, or my gifs, and I don’t like it, I should be allowed to block them -- just as anyone else should be allowed to with their own content.

The comment about Ben Solo still stands, I won’t be expanding on that.

The last point that I would like to explain myself about, was made in Hope’s reblog of the post, is the whole “I bullied someone for leaving fandom” incident. I can only assume that she means an author who I had been informed was plagiarizing my work from the fic Blue Moon. I had never had this happen to me before, but I’d been told my many other people that this author has a history of taking other people’s content and uploading it as their own, including someone that I was at one point good friends with. I believed them, and I reached out to this author expressing my concerns, only expressing to please not do this in the future, or at the very least, mention that this was related to my story. This author deleted her account, and that was the last I heard about it.

I’m honestly shocked and confused by how many people have come forward and said that they find my responses to anonymous questions mean-spirited or toxic. I try very hard to maintain a general rule of, if you’re kind to me, I’ll be kind back. In many instances, anonymous questions come across as rude, disrespectful, flat out mean, or frustrating, and so I reply back with a less-than-nice manner.

The last thing I’d like to say on this whole matter is this: I want to make it clear that I mean no personal malice towards any of the people that these screenshots surround. I vehemently disagree with the narrative that I send people after one another, I just don’t do that. What people do is of their own accord. I don’t ever want people to be sent hate, because firstly I don’t think that’s a good thing to do, but secondly, I get sent hate all the time, and I know how it feels. I don’t want that for anyone. I know that the collection of these screenshots may make it seem otherwise, but I really do try to stay in my lane, and I only speak up on things that I’m passionate about -- whether it’s passionately positive or negative.

I would like to apologize for the way that I’ve responded to criticism in the past, it’s just frustrating when people are criticizing you from a perspective that doesn’t take into consideration that there might be more to the story. All I can do is move forward and try to check myself, and I hope that with these explanations, people out there will realize that when I act out of frustration or aggressively, it’s because I feel as though I’m not being heard.

I know that whatever opinion you form of me is yours and will be yours, but if you’ve read this entire thing then thank you, I appreciate you hearing me out. Hope you’re all doing well, and as always, I truly am sending you guys all my love.

#Anonymous #cowboy answers

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jae-writes-fanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Caviar and Cigarettes

Ashton x Reader - Collab Masterlist - 3763 Words - Part 1 of 1

Notes: this was written as part of a collab event as a gift for @mermaidcashton using a mix of their different suggested tropes but specifically ‘waking up in vegas.’ I hope you enjoy it ❤️ also I’ve never been to a casino I’m sorry this is 100% based off of what I know from TV

Warnings: mentions of alcohol/alcohol consumption, people are on a plane which could be scary, light nsfw content, some swearing.

- - -

The overhead compartments creaked as the plane rushed down the runway headed for liftoff. The sensation always sent a shiver down your spine and caused knots to grow in your stomach.

You hated flying and had everyone been back in LA instead of visiting the UK on a press tour, you would’ve opted to drive to Las Vegas from home and meet the boys there. Unfortunately for you, being their one-person PR/Social Media Management team placed you behind the scenes for the entire junket. And now, it placed you in the window seat of a plane preparing to hurtle dangerously through the sky- although your friendship with the bride-to-be was partly at fault.

Next to you, Ashton rolled his eyes as you gripped the armrest tightly. Across the aisle he watched Michael and Crystal giggle at something, and just ahead of them he could see Callum and Luke watching a movie on one of their phones.

He loved his friends and was beyond happy for Michael and Crystal but each of their small smiles and soft looks felt stifling and Ashton found himself wishing things could just be like when they were younger. Everything felt easier then, it was much more fun going on trips, there was less pressure to do or say the right thing or post the right statuses. They were just four friends making music. Now, everything was different including you.

You silenced your phone and offered Ashton a consolatory smile. “I know you’d rather be across the aisle,” you said glancing over at the others, “but let’s try to be friendly it’s a long flight.” There was a slight edge to your tone and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re right dollface,” Ashton bit back, “I’d much rather be seated with my friends. Not our social media manager.”

You felt a warmth spread across your face as you tried to think of a smart response. Ashton has always been the most aloof of the four when you joined the behind the scenes team yet every conversation with him turned sour.

When you didn’t respond Ashton decided to keep going. “I mean I offense but how the hell are any of us supposed to relax when you’re here hovering around? This is supposed to be a party! A vacation! But you make it look like work.”

“That’s right Ash,” you said icily, “because I am working. I have to make sure none of you do anything stupid while you’re ‘having fun and letting loose’.”

And there you go, Ashton thought, like always making everything else difficult. Why couldn’t you just be agreeable?

“Besides,” you said interrupting his thoughts, “the last thing the group needs is more dating drama. Your last stint did enough damage.”

There. You said it, after weeks of thinking it you actually said it. You didn’t blame him for how the breakup went and for a while you were proud at how little attention Ashton gave to the fan speculation. But then he deleted all their pictures together and made a few (now long deleted) vague tweets that sent the fan base into a deadly spiral that spewed death threats at his ex and caused you more than enough sleepless nights.

You felt a little guilty when he didn’t respond with another jape- but who did he think he was anyway? Sure he was attractive but he couldn’t get away with everything. Not this time. Not after you had to stage and arrange posts for him every time he swapped partners.

You huffed and slipped your headphones in. There was no hope for pleasant conversation, and you had no desire to fill the time with mobile games. The audiobook claimed to calm and soothe the overworked professional with meditation and organization tips. Compared to the $350 plane fare the $25 download seemed like a reasonable and informative way to fill the ten-hour flight.

By the halfway mark you’d been proven wrong on both accounts. The narrator’s lilting accent was distracting in all the wrong ways, and the information sounded like every motivational speaker ever; all hype and no substance. Twice you felt your eyes drifting closed and twice you managed to snap yourself out of it. The third time however you didn’t snap back awake as your head lolled to the side.

The brush of your hair against his shoulder alerted Ashton to the situation. He chuckled lightly under his breath, for a moment you were at peace. For a moment you were someone he didn’t know, someone he might’ve liked to know better.

But moments don’t last forever, Ashton knew this to be true and before long the light jostling of the plane woke you up. You blinked slowly trying to adjust to the lights and grimaced as Ashton came into focus. The intensity of his gaze puzzled you. Was there something on your face? The expression was unconscious, but Ashton saw it flicker across your face and that stung. Not even away more than a minute and you were already getting to him.

Uninterested in having another quiet row like a soon-to-be-divorced couple, he quickly looked away leaving you once again to choose between silence and the droning audiobook as the plane crossed the Atlantic and then the entirety of the North American continent.

The sun had already set when the descent started. Outside you could see the world swathed in swatches of brilliant color and dazzling shapes against the horizon. It felt like your heart skipped a beat. The Vegas strip was everything you’d expected. The hotel itself looked like a work of abstract art, it’s glass elevators sparkling under the desert sunset.

Late dinner reservations had been made for the five of them, and you took the opportunity to settle into your room, eat an entire room service pizza, and take a nap. They would be out on the hotel’s casino floor for the rest of the night and you were more than happy to join them.

By the time you put yourself together and got there, the house was in full swing. The music was loud, the people louder. You noticed Ashton first at a roulette table surrounded by other beautiful people. You turned to walk away and look for Crystal when he noticed you.

You smiled thinly and made your way over to him, you had to. Anything else would’ve been seen as rude and that was a problem you didn’t want to deal with.

You lightly touched his shoulder to let him know you were there and glanced over the table. He hasn’t lost anything but wasn’t winning either. Ashton froze at your touch, the innocuous gesture sent a shock through his body, and at that moment something changed.

The dealer called for bets to be placed for the new round as you settled in next to Ashton. The dark jacket paired well with the retro red shirt he wore and you had trouble looking away.

“You look-“ Ashton started but couldn’t finish the sentence, his wide eyes glanced over your body for one of the first times seeing it outside of business wear. The metallic accents caught in the low light and cast an ethereal glow over you that kept drawing his focus.

You flushed, “thanks...you do too.” The sentiment felt heavy despite the normalcy of the exchange and you quickly accepted a glass of something from a roaming waiter to loosen your tongue.

You glanced back over the table and turned to Ashton with a conspiratorial grin. You leaned in to whisper and Ashton felt your hot breath on his neck.

“Always bet on black,” you offered while biting your lip as he laughed lightly. Everyone said that everyone knew that was a rookie move. But for the moment it seemed like the best advice and you were shocked when he did it.

Not as shocked as you were when he won.

Ashton turned and looked at you, amazed.

“Ash that was so lucky!” You gushed openly and your genuine smile pulled at his heart.

“Maybe it’s just you,” he said softly, the honest edge to his voice surprising you. You laughed awkwardly trying to play off the sentimentality of the words but they kept playing over in your mind.

“I think the happy couple ran away for a little bit,” he offered quickly moving on, “but I think we ought to go celebrate.”

You nodded, “well since I did help you win, I suppose you could buy me a drink.”

Ashton grinned back and quickly gathered his winnings before wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you towards the lounge. You could smell his cologne as you walked and you weren’t sure if it was that or his hand on your hip that kept distracting you from whatever he was saying.

The hazy lounge atmosphere was almost as intoxicating as the cocktails that Ashton kept ordering for the two of you. The liquor burned in all the best ways and a soft sweet taste lingered on your lips. You felt warm and giddy, and surprisingly happy to have been spending this time with Ashton.

At some point, his arm wrapped around your shoulders and you laughed at one of his jokes. Had he been sober the sound might’ve broken his heart, like most secret things do if they’ve been dreamed about before.

You turned to say something but stopped with the words dead on arrival. Ashton was closer than you had realized while talking, your faces just inches apart. The red hue of the lights flashed across his features and seemed to show how truly beautiful he was.

For a moment the closeness lingered, and you could feel a tense stiffness in the arm around you, and electricity where his hand curled around your bare shoulder. Unconsciously you felt your face tilt up towards his, and Ashton felt the same desire to close the gap.

What am I doing, you thought trying to blink out of it, I technically work for him I can’t kiss him! Besides he doesn’t even tolerate me normally.

Ashton froze, unable to tear himself away from you, the soft tint of the lights exaggerated the shadows on your face and kept drawing his eyes back to your lips. His hand on your shoulder itched to run up to tangle in the hair at the back of your neck and pull you against him.

She doesn’t even want to be here, he thought suddenly, why the hell would she want to kiss me on top of that?

But somewhere in the back of his mind Ashton knew you were struggling over something similar. He knew you were at least tempted, otherwise you would’ve moved.

A scantily clad cocktail waitress interrupted the moment and sent you both back to looking away. Your stomach felt uneasy from the tension and you drank quietly for a while contemplating your next move. You needed to say something funny, something light to keep this good energy going.

“Look at the bartender,” you said, “can you imagine him working anywhere else?” Your joke was directed at a thin sort of person who without a doubt had the Vegas aesthetic down to a T.

Ashton felt his heart drop, couldn’t you say something nice? Did you always have to be so critical of everyone?

“That’s typical,” he mumbled into his drunk.

“What do you mean it’s typical?”

“You, princess. Always having some shallow thing to say,” he took a long drink draining the glass before turning back to your shocked face.

This had been a bad idea, you knew he had some problem with you but it had been enough.

Refusing to cause a scene on the crowded floor you swiftly stood. “It was just a joke,” you hissed through a clenched jaw before walking towards the lobby and elevators that would whisk you back to the safety of your room.

“Hey come back!” Ashton tossed money into the table and quickly darted after you, slipping into the elevator at the last second.

“We were having a good time,” he said defensively, “stop being such a spoilsport.”

“A good time? Sure, it’s all fun and games for you. Didn’t you ever stop to think that maybe something is majorly wrong when you can’t go twenty minutes without insulting me?”

“It wasn’t an insult it was a comment.”

You laughed openly, “oh that’s rich Ash. A comment.”

The doors slid open on your floor and you quickly turned heel and left. You heard his footfalls behind you and it took everything in you to resist slamming your door before he could enter the room. You angrily kicked your shoes off sending them in varying directions that you didn’t care to fix.

Ashton felt his palms get sweaty and his mouth dry. He didn’t want to keep watching you walk away anymore. “Can’t we just talk about this like friends?”

“Friends?” You felt your heart get all twisty at the words, “we’ve never been friends Ashton.”

When he didn’t respond you continued, crossing your arms in front of your chest as if the pressure would keep you still and safe.

“I used to think we could’ve been. When we first met I thought: now there’s the one- attractive and smart and mature. But all you’ve ever done is play games, spew pretensions, and hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said lamely taking a step closer to you.

“You don’t hate me? Oh that’s right you just hate the way I dress, and joke, and talk...” You met his gaze with a challenge and in another first of the night, he accepted.

Ashton looked at you with a fondness he had never expressed out loud and a gentleness that’s translated in how he took your hand in his and pulled you against him.

“I don’t hate you at all,” he said softly cupping your cheek with his other hand, “I hate that when you’re here you’re always working, I hate that you can’t ever just be with us, I hate that I miss you when you don’t answer a text, and I absolutely loathe that when you do it’s because you have to talk to me.” Because I want to talk to you, he thought unable to form the words in the mouth.

You suddenly felt very small pressed against him and you knew he could see the heat rising in your face.

“Professional was just easier,” you whispered unable to look him in the eyes, “because I don’t hate you either. For a long time I hated having to orchestrate and present people with you-“ because they weren’t me, you thought unable to say the words out loud.

His thumb softly traced the slant of your cheekbones as you hesitantly looked back into his eyes, and unlike in the lounge you did resist the urge to close the space between you, and neither did he.

The kiss was soft and filled with the emotion of everything not said, like all first kisses should be.

“I don’t hate you at all,” he whispered whilst placing kisses to the sides of your face, “not even a little bit, not even at all.” As your lips let a second time you both felt how surely the sentiment was quite the opposite and had been for quite some time.

Ashton was the only thought in your mind, and the only word on your lips as the kisses grew sloppier and needy. He tasted like cherry syrup from the cocktails and you wanted more.

A little disoriented from the alcohol you haphazardly walked backward pulling Ashton with you until you felt the edge of the mattress press against your calves. In a fit of giggles, you both tumbled back onto the bed.

You had never seen him smile like this before, his whole face seemed brighter and you knew instantly he was thinking the same things too. You moved in a flurry of hands and touches that struggled through the haze to remove clothes.

You straddled him to slide the jacket from his shoulders and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt until that too was discarded. Your hands trembled as they skated across his chest, and you felt him shiver as they were replaced with your lips. You slid down his body leading trails of kisses that stopped just above his belt buckle. The way it caught the light sent a delicious shiver down your spine and you tucked that thought away for another time.

Deftly you slipped the belt off before working on the slacks. You slowed and groaned softly upon revealing a dark red pair of lace pants under his trousers.

“Sweetheart,” you cooed teasingly as you repositioned yourself between his legs, “you should’ve led with this.” His hoarse laugh stifled into moans as you traced the lace with your tongue. Your eye wandered to the glittering bottle of champagne on the nightstand and between it and the heady look on Ashton’s face, you knew it was going to be a good night.

The next morning which really ended up being the next afternoon- you were pleased to wake up curled and tangled around a very naked Ashton. The pounding headache and dry mouth were a direct contrast.

You were thankful the curtains were still closed as the moderate darkness seemed to help the monster out hangover you were now feeling. You shifted slightly and were surprised to notice you weren’t entirely naked. You were wearing a t-shirt you didn’t remember owning. The words looked like gibberish but you gathered it was from the hotel’s gift shop.

The discovery prompted you to look around the room and you noticed something. Ashton’s fancy clothes and delightful red panties were joined by a pair of his jeans, another shirt, and an extra pair of your bottoms as well.

There were papers strewn on the nightstand and a shopping bag near the door that you didn’t remember buying. The cool air stung your bare legs and prompted you to curl back into Ashton who lazily smiled and kissed your temple as you rejoined him.

“G’morning darlin’,” he said through a yawn making you giggle.

“Do you remember going back out last night?”

Ashton shook his head but before he could say anything his ringtone cut through the silence and roused a chorus of pained groans from both of you.

He scrambled to answer it and you noticed the empty bottle of champagne on the other side of the bed, and what looked like a sacked minibar’s worth of trash with it.

I am never drinking again, you thought as the ringing subsided and your head began to throb.

“Michael wants us for brunch,” Ashton said tossing his phone back to the cluttered nightstand. You groaned at the thought of food and hoped it would be greasy enough to cut through the drunk brain fog.

You had to swing by Ashton’s room for him to get dressed making it a little later than anticipated when you finally got to the lobby. Crystal and Michael were sharing a love seat and as you both exited the elevator they erupted into raucous laughter and cheers that reverberated pain through your head.

“Aw fuck,” you hissed rubbing a hand on your temple. Ashton had an arm around your waist which kept yours from stumbling.

“Oh come on I expected a little more life after last night,” Michael called with a grin.

“I didn’t think Mikey was serious,” Crystal said, “do you have the papers on you?”

On top of them, Luke chimed in, “I got the whole crying jag on video it’ll make a hell of an update when we get back.”

You and Ashton shared a confused look and silently looked to Callum for help. He was drinking a delightful looking mimosa and sighed putting it down.

“I don’t think they remember,” he started before getting cut off.

“Awe no way! Look at them, they’re the picture of romantic bliss,” Michael taunted with a laugh.

You sighed, “come on now guys I know it’s a little odd for us to hook up but enough with the jokes.”

“Hook up?” Luke laughed, “that’s not what Elvis would have to say about it.”

You were trying not to get frustrated but it was hard. “Luke, what in the hell does Elvis have to do with anything?”

Callum cut in before the others could keep hounding you.

“Promise me you won’t freak out?”

You nodded and felt Ashton do the same.

“Alright,” Callum started slowly leaving time to gauge reactions as he spoke, “Luke and I got a call last night around 4:30, one of you were crying about how you ruined mike’s moment when you were too out of it to explain we came down here to meet you...”

As he spoke flashes of memories seemed to play in your mind. You almost remembered dialing the phone inside who to talk to, but certain you didn’t want to upset anyone.

“Apparently you’d just come in from one of those 24-hour chapels and we’re worried Mike and Crystal would be upset you stole the show.”

“Why would we go to a church?” Ashton asked slowly. Neither you nor Ashton were specifically interested in that sort of thing. Yet as he asked it you remembered stumbling through the lobby looking for something new to wear.

Your mind reeled trying to fit together pieces that you weren’t sure went to the same puzzle. You ran a hand through your hair a small ring on your hand catching in the light. You recognized it immediately as Ashton’s. Something borrowed, you thought unsure of why that mattered.

Callum shook his head as Michael dissolved into a fit of laughter.

“You dumbasses, you got married!”

You and Ashton quickly looked at each other and then back at the others and then back at each other trying to process this whirlwind of information.

The moment lingered longer than Michael found funny and without much else said you were whisked by the other happy couple off for brunch and out into a world where nothing would ever be the same.

#rpf #5sos writers collab #ashton x reader #5sos #oneshot #mermaidcashton #tw: alcohol

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