#it's frustrating because i used to to so much more productive. i want to write but when i do i disappoint myself

[running-in-the-dark]

.......

[binch-i-might-be]

I know I complain about this a lot, but it really feels like one of life's cruel jokes that my writing sessions now average about 400 to 600 words. I would like to finish something sometime. thanks

[allur1ngs]

✮ succumb (to me) ✮

TW: small angst to fluff, smut (dom & top!bada, sub & bottom !reader, kinda rough & angry sex, strap usage–r!receiving, oral–r!receiving, reader sucks on bada’s strap bcs i say so, teasing, strap referred to as a cock, bada is the giver in this scenario, doesn’t rlly receive, sorry…) + aftercare, delulu bada, once again LOTS of protective!bada, cold!bada, frustrated!bada, jealous!bada, petty!bada, bada having SERIOUS beef w your bodyguard, lusher being an instigator, reader being oblivious once again but its okay because we love her, jealous!reader, hyo being stuck in the middle of it all… justice for her fr, ngl the descriptions in this one are more spicy so… beware ? allusions to homophobia if you squint, the picture to the farthest right is purely for aesthetics and not meant to represent reader’s skin tone or body type!! and a surprise character that you may know~

SUMMARY: jealousy is man’s most evil, and easiest sin to yield to. bada struggles to keep herself from falling into its clutches, and succumbing to her greatest temptation, you.

WC: 14.5k… i promised myself this one would be shorter but i’m weak

A/N: find more information about this au on my masterlist! once again, i’m sure there are MANY mistakes throughout this fic, so please ignore them as best as you can--i'll edit this asap. also this isn't the first kiss or first i love you, consider this fic as a "what if" like slightly canon divergent. i want to make a separate fic about the official first kiss and first i love you!!

DISCLAIMER: all characteristics portrayed are purely speculation and fiction, they are not meant to reflect bada, team bebe, or anyone else’s actual character, values, or attitudes. please keep this in mind!!

Orange sunlight pours through the black-tinted windows in Bada’s office, casting a warm glow onto words that blur into blots of ink against white paper. Bada's tired eyes squint, attempting to make out the last sentence of the form in front of her. But no matter how hard she glares and huffs, the blots don’t unify into words.

“Ugh,” she groans, pushing away the form out of frustration. “I need a break.”

“You think so?” Lusher pops up behind the office door, having quietly opened it while Bada was focused on her paperwork.

“Yes, Lusher, I need a break,” Bada pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing out of her nose. “But I have a feeling I won’t be able to, now that you’re here.”

“Those are some harsh words for someone who brought you a gift,” Lusher says cheekily. She approaches Bada, opening her once-closed fist to reveal a pair of black-framed glasses. “Tada!”

Bada lets out a breath, muttering a thank you before grabbing her glasses and putting them on. Immediately, she feels the world come into focus, and the words on the form she pushed away are now crisp and uniform. “Much better.”

“What would you do without me?” Lusher jokes.

“I’d probably be much more productive.” Bada takes ahold of her gold-trimmed fountain pen and sets another stack of papers in front of her.

“What happened to taking a break?” Lusher pouts. “You’re going to go blind if you continue to push your eyes this much.”

“Well, thanks to you, I have my glasses, so I won’t go blind,” Bada says without looking up from the paper she’s signing.

“That’s not how it works,” Lusher huffs.

Bada stops writing, placing her fountain pen down and lifting her gaze up to stare at Lusher dead in the eyes. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you.” Lusher plops down on the couch in the corner of the room. “We never get to talk like friends anymore.”

“I’m busy,” Bada says gruffly.

“You’re always busy,” Lusher complains. Bada doesn’t respond, instead, she picks up her pen again and starts reading the paper in front of her. “Fine,” Lusher folds her arms across her chest, “I’ll just talk aloud.”

Again, Bada ignores her subordinate, shuffling to the next paper and beginning to scan the words.

Lusher takes no offense, already used to her friend’s cold and serious behavior; in fact, it’s something she admires in her. And, she also knows that despite how her boss outwardly acts, Bada does care about her and listens to what she has to say.

“Minah and I took care of that job yesterday.” She comments, her eyes moving to the tinted window in Bada’s office. “It was very easy. U-Ram is getting sloppy.” Lusher waits to see if Bada will respond, but she doesn’t, so the second-in-command continues. “His branch of Seoul should be easy to take over. And if he doesn’t want to give it up, Tatter, Minah, and I can visit him.”

Silence fills the room, making Lusher pout again. She wants to get at least some sort of reaction out of Bada, but she remains steadfast in focusing on her work. Lusher thinks to herself, for a moment, wondering what else she could bring up to her boss that might spark up some form of conversation.

Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in her mind, making her eyes light up and her lips curve upward in a mischievous smile. There’s one thing she can use. One thing–or more like one person–that always breaks through Bada’s icy attitude.

“So, how have things between you and unnie been going?” Lusher asks innocently.

Bada’s writing pauses, “We’re doing fine.” She mumbles before continuing to scribble furiously.

Bingo, Lusher thinks, trying to hide how her smile grows. “That’s good, I’m glad. I was worried after the incident with Seong, your relationship would be on the rocks. But it seems like it brought you two closer together.”

Bada keeps her eyes fixed on the document below her, “Yes. Our friendship has become much stronger.”

“Friendship.” Lusher snorts.

“What’s so funny?” Bada cuts in, tone hard.

“You and unnie aren’t friends.”

“We are.” Bada insists. “I enjoy her company, and she enjoys my company. We’re friends.”

“Bada, you and unnie have done everything in a traditional relationship other than have sex.” Lusher deadpans.

Bada’s hand fumbles with her fountain pen out of shock, her eyes snapping up to meet Lusher’s figure casually lounging on the couch. “Lee Seoyoung,” She says firmly. “remember your place, and don’t speak about my fiancée in such a way.”

“I don’t mean it in an offensive way.” Lusher shrugs, not affected by Bada using her full name. “I’m just pointing out that you two aren’t friends. Or if you are, you’re incredibly touchy friends.”

Bada scoffs, removing her gaze from Lusher. “We’re just friends. End of story.”

“If you say so,” Lusher concedes, resting her head against the headrest of the couch. “But now that I think about it, I wonder how unnie keeps herself satisfied.”

Bada looks up once again, her expression showing clear confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Lusher smirks to herself, sitting up. “Well, unnie’s been with you for about two and a half months now, right? Don’t you think she’d begin to feel…” she trails off, trying to find a less brash way of expressing her thoughts. “lonely for companionship? For some… skinship?”

Bada’s eyes widen only a fraction, the wheels in her mind slowly turning. “I greet her in the morning with hugs and a peck on the cheek.”

“Boss, you have to realize that not all of us are as composed and able to be abstinent for long periods of time like you are.”

“What are you implying?” Bada says incredulously. “That she’s–” she cuts herself off, becoming physically sick at the thought of someone else touching you, caressing you, giving you pleasure, and seeing you in ways she hasn’t.

“I’m not implying anything.” Lusher holds her hands up in defense.

Bada glares at Lusher, countless thoughts running through her mind as her heart races in her chest. “And if she were to be… engaging in such activities, who do you think she’d find company in?”

Lusher looks up, thinking deeply and seriously about Bada’s question. “I would have to say… Hyo. They’ve become quite close.” She answers honestly. “But don’t take this too seriously, Boss. Unnie isn’t that type of woman.”

But it’s much too late. Internally, Bada’s already beginning to spiral, remembering every interaction between you and Hyo she’s witnessed. There’s no way you’re interested in her… right? She may follow you around every minute of every day, but that’s not enough to make you fall in love with her, right? It’s not enough to make you yearn for her touch while Bada remains shut in her office, reviewing documents and signing papers…

“Bada…” Lusher trails off, noticing how her friend’s eyes become cloudy in thought. “I’m serious, don’t read too much into it. I was just joking around.”

“I’m not reading into it,” Bada responds after a beat. “My fiancée is her own woman, and what she does in her free time is none of my business. As long as she’s safe and happy, I’m content.”

Lusher frowns deeply, shaking her head. “But—”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m fine.” Bada holds up a hand to stop Lusher from continuing. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to finish this pile of papers before nightfall.”

Lusher looks between Bada and her work, unsure if she’s convinced that her friend wasn’t overthinking her joking comment. Eventually, she decides not to disturb Bada anymore, taking her leave and remaining oblivious to the chain of events she would unwittingly cause.

Like an unrelenting plague, Lusher’s words echo in Bada’s mind for the rest of the day, night, and the next day that follows. She tries to stay on task and finish her paperwork, but no matter how hard she tries, her mind will play cruel tricks on her, showing her images of your sweaty body sliding against Hyo’s, a smirk painted across her face as she services you with unrivaled pleasure.

Bada bangs her fist against her desk, dragging her chair back violently as she groans, running her fingers through her hair in frustration. If she can’t focus on her work, she might as well see what you’re up to and maybe spend some time with you. Not because she wants to observe your interactions with Hyo—no, not at all. She misses you, is all. In a friendly way, of course.

Leaving her office looking tired and disgruntled, Bada bumps into Soweon in her search for you. She asks her youngest subordinate if she knows where you are, to which she says yes, pointing in the direction of the terrace where the infinity pool lies. Bada says a quick thank you before fast walking in your direction, a prickle of nervousness building in her stomach, something she isn’t used to.

Stepping onto the terrace, Bada’s right hand busies itself by loosening her tie, noticing how tight it suddenly felt when her eyes find a sight that makes the nervousness in her stomach wash away, and instead, be replaced by a burning heat.

Your lower half is submerged in water while your upper half is arched into the warm afternoon air, water droplets falling from your throat and dipping down between your breasts as you hoist yourself out of the pool. In front of you, Hyo is holding out a white towel with one hand and grabbing onto yours in the other, helping you out of the pool.

There’s nothing particularly abnormal or intimate about the interaction, but it’s your bathing suit that makes Bada’s breath hitch, and the simmering fire burning within her spread. It’s a black ensemble, elegant, and compliments your figure to implausible lengths, that Bada wonders if it was handmade to make you look as divine as possible.

But your beautiful visage is overridden by Lusher’s words once again ringing in her mind.

Bada’s legs move before she can even think, rushing her over to where Hyo’s holding out the towel for you. She grabs it from her without a second thought, standing directly in front of her and taking your hand in hers, so Hyo’s unable to see you fully emerge from the pool.

“Bada?” You say, your eyes lighting up at the sight of her. “What are you doing here?”

“I decided to take a break.” She lies through her teeth, briefly checking behind her to see Hyo giving her a slightly confused look before she steps back, allowing her boss to take care of you instead. “Here,” Bada mumbles, wrapping the warm towel around your figure with haste and pulling you into her side.

The action makes butterflies flutter in your belly, and a shy smile overtake your lips. “Thank you.” You say softly, taking the chance to discreetly snuggle into Bada’s warmth.

“You’re welcome.” Bada nods, glancing at Hyo from the corner of her eye every few seconds. “So, is this where you’ve been all day?”

“Mostly,” you admit. “I haven’t swum much recently, and the sun was warm today, so I thought I’d cool off a bit in the water.”

“I see.” Bada nods. “And your bathing suit…” she trails off.

“What? Do you like it?” You ask innocently, unraveling the towel to give her another look at the piece.

Bada's eyes widen as she quickly wraps you in the towel again, feeling her body warm at the sight of yours. "Yes, yes, it looks very good on you," she hurries out. "But isn't it a little... inappropriate for Hyo to see you like this?"

"What do you mean?" You give Bada a confused look. "She sees me like this all the time."

Bada struggles to keep her composure as her thoughts start to race, and her hands instinctively curl into fists. "She does?"

"Yeah, I go swimming pretty often," you say casually, starting to walk toward the terrace exit. Bada follows, keeping you tucked into her side, and sending glares Hyo's way. You glance at your fiancée, noticing the black frames on her nose. "You're wearing your glasses again." Reaching up, you gently touch the side of them.

"Oh, yes," she mumbles. "I forgot I had them on."

"Bada, you need to stop pushing yourself so much." You pout.

Your fiancée smiles lightly, "You know, Lusher said the same thing."

"Because we're right." You insist. "You're lucky you don't have to wear those glasses every day."

"I won't let it get that bad."

You give her an unconvinced look, crossing your arms. "I'm holding you to that, you know."

"Oh?" Bada smirks. "And what will you do if I slip up?"

"I'll start visiting you every other hour to bother you until you take a break." You say playfully.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Bada banters back.

"Hmm, I don't know, I think you'd enjoy it." You mimic a thoughtful expression, making Bada laugh.

"I'd more than enjoy it." She admits, disguising her sincerity with a joking tone.

Slowing your pace, you find the door to your bedroom right ahead, which surprises you. You must have been so enraptured in your conversation with Bada that you didn't realize your legs were taking you back to your bedroom out of instinct.

Parting from Bada reluctantly, you stare at her with glittering eyes as you shift on your feet. "Thank you for coming to see me. I like spending time with you, even if it's only for a little."

Bada swears you’re trying to kill her, because why are you so sweet and lovely? All her life, Bada's dealt with ruthless businessmen, deceitful allies, and those who used her for personal gain. But you... you get genuine satisfaction out of simply seeing her. And she can't deny that she feels the same way.

"You're welcome," Bada says softly, rubbing her hand up and down your arm out of instinct. She doesn't realize the effect her touch has on you, but she sees the way you smile down at the floor. "You can visit me anytime, by the way. I wasn't lying before when I said I would enjoy you coming to see me." She admits brazenly.

"Okay then, I will." A brief pause of silence envelops you two before you turn to look back at your bedroom door. "I'm going to go take a shower. I'll see you later?"

"Of course," Bada nods. She steps forward to open the door for you, watching you head in before closing it behind you with one last small goodbye. She stays still for a moment, staring at the spot where you’d just been, lost in thought. When she finally recollects herself, she pushes her glasses farther up her nose and turns on her feet, about to head in the direction of her office. But upon beginning her stride, she is met with Hyo’s figure standing a few feet away. 

“Have a good afternoon, Boss,” she says calmly.

Bada’s mood plummets in an instant, her expression souring at Hyo’s flippant demeanor. She gives a low hum in response before continuing down the hall toward her office. 

That instance was only the mildest out of three that led up to Bada’s eventual break.

Instance number two occurred while Bada was hard at work. She’d been on a call, about to seal the deal on an important partnership between her and one of the lead car manufacturers in Seoul.

“I’m sure there are ways we can both benefit from this endeavor.” Bada’s voice projects into her work phone.

“There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re correct,” Nam-Su answers on the other line. “But I feel there are some logistical points that still need to be addressed.”

“By all means, ask me anything.” Bada walks around her office, making sure to remain attentive while Nam-Su speaks. If she manages to close this deal, her entire facility will have a steady supply of fortified and modified cars, perfect for jobs.

“Very well, my main issue stems from…” Nam-Su begins to rant, leaving Bada to simply hum in the background while considering his deal. Surprisingly, he had many valid and insightful questions–though she should have expected that from him. Nam-Su was always described as a cunning businessman–when he wasn’t telling jokes in the workplace. Still, Bada manages to reel Nam-Su in with her impeccable rhetoric, and persuasive offers. 

It seems like she’s just about to close the deal when a noise causes her to pause her pacing. She looks up from the floor, squinting with a confused expression to her right, where she thought she heard the noise come from. Her eyes find the window that oversees the large garden right outside her office, locking on the fountain immediately. Assuming that to be the origin of the noise, she turns away, tuning back into her conversation with Nam-Su, who’s now ranting about his breakfast for some reason.

“That’s quite interesting, Mr. Im, but going back to the deal, how often and at what speed are you normally able to create heavily modified cars?”

“Ah yes, usually it takes around–”

The noise cuts in again, making Bada’s head whip toward the window again, this time sure that she heard it. She steps closer to the window, once again squinting in hopes of finding the source. But this time, she does. And she almost wishes she didn’t.

Bada sees you first, twirling into view in a beautiful and elegant sundress, looking like a goddess among the flowers in the garden. You’re laughing boisterously–which Bada realizes was the noise she heard, the sound muffled because of the glass barrier–at something just out of her view. You move to sit on the edge of the fountain, kicking your feet up a bit and revealing the creamy skin of your leg. Bada’s lips curl into a soft smile out of instinct, the sight of you so happy and carefree so pure that she can’t focus on a word Nam-Su is saying.

But just like always, Bada’s never able to fully admire you in peace, because another figure emerges, a black blob disturbing the color and sanctity of the garden. It’s Hyo, of course, dressed in her usual black suit and dark sunglasses. However, one thing stands out to Bada.

Hyo’s smiling.

And not just a simple, small smile, no–she’s smiling widely, borderline laughing with you as she stands in front of you, saying something that makes you give her a cheeky look.

Then she sees it.

Atop Hyo’s head is a ring of baby’s breath flowers woven together to make a crown. And similarly, sitting on yours is a colorful combination of peonies.

Bada's left hand tightens into a fist as she stares at you both, laughing and giggling like schoolgirls with crushes on each other. What was going on between you two? Where did this sudden air of intimacy come from? Has it always been there? Had Bada just been too wrapped up in her work to realize you and Hyo were becoming suspiciously close?

Either way it doesn’t matter, because all Bada can think about is how badly she wants to be standing there in Hyo’s place, admiring you up close, and laughing alongside you without a care in the world. She so badly yearns to be the only one you allow to hear your melodious giggles or share intimate moments with. (So caught up in her own jealousy, Bada doesn’t even realize her thoughts are continuing to stray away from friendship, and farther into romance.)

Bada’s eyes narrow to slits, glaring at Hyo’s every micromovement and scrutinizing it. She briefly considers leaving the office to interrupt, but before she can, she notices you freeze in your spot. A second passes before your eyes meet Hyo’s and become wide. Tiny droplets of water begin to rain down from the sky in steady streams, dotting your dress and deepening its color. You stand up in a hurry, your smile remaining on your lips as you hold your hands above your head, trying to shield yourself from the rain.

Hyo looks up at the sky and says something Bada’s unable to hear, but she sees you motion towards entering the mansion again and feels a wave of relief flood through her body. The world must be on her side. Clearly, it despised the sight of you and Hyo together as well, if the heavy downpour was any indication.

And yet… Hyo takes a step to the side, grabbing something out of Bada’s view before she walks closer to you, revealing an umbrella. Your smile only widens, unheard words falling from your mouth as you sit down on the edge of the fountain again, this time with Hyo sitting next to you. Bada’s eyes switch to cold in an instant, and she bites her lip in frustration. But of course, it seems the universe wants to torture her more, because you start to shiver, the dewy rain on your dress most likely giving you a chill. Because of that you unconsciously lean heavier into Hyo’s side, until you give in and press yourself against her arm, shaking like a leaf.

The simple action makes Bada’s entire body light on fire, a deep-seated jealousy rearing its ugly head as her teeth dig further into her lips, the force so strong that if she didn’t stop, she’d end up breaking the skin of her lip.

In the garden, it seems Hyo has finally noticed your shivering, because she breaks away for a brief moment to tug off her suit jacket before draping it around your shoulders, and bringing you into her side again, nodding when you mutter something to her.

Bada’s hand tightens around her work phone with impossible force, a droplet of blood falling from her lip as she stares at you both through the tinted window of her office while you speak to each other, completely oblivious to Bada’s gaze, or her anger. 

“...Ms. Lee, are you alright?” Nam-Su’s voice breaks through the ringing in Bada’s ear, his tone a mesh between mild worry and genuine confusion at her prolonged silence.

“I’m great, Mr. Im,” she lies through her teeth, the glass screen of her phone cracking under the pressure of her hands.

The last instance, and the one that managed to finally break through Bada’s facade comes the night of Nam-Su’s ball. 

Having successfully sealed the partnership between them despite her distraction, the cheerful man sent Bada an invitation the day after, proposing to throw a celebratory ball. He not only invited her, but Bebe too, and made sure to include a plus one ticket–having heard the rumors of you through the grapevine.

Although Bada doesn’t normally enjoy social events, she realizes it’s an opportunity to spend more intimate time with you, and jumps at the chance. She asks you to go as her plus one, to which you immediately accept.

Now, on the night of the ball, Bada looks at herself in the floor-length mirror in her room. Her eyes run down her figure multiple times, looking closely for any imperfections; wrinkles in her dress shirt, the position of her tie, or a stain on her customized suit. She finds none, but does one last check before leaving her bedroom in search of you.

You–much like Bada had once been–are picking over your appearance nervously while endless thoughts pass through your mind. 

Tonight is a very important milestone in your relationship with Bada. Not only will you be making your public debut as her fiancée, as well as meeting multiple of her allied gangs, but this is also your first time attending a ball with incredibly high-profile socialites from all over South Korea. Disappointing their expectations of you or embarrassing yourself is not an option. Everything must be perfect for both your sake, and Bada’s. 

As if hearing your thoughts, a light rapping against your door alerts you of Bada’s presence. “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” You answer hurriedly, gathering your bag and rushing to exit. You step out of your bedroom with a nervous smile, turning to face Bada once you’ve closed the door behind you. 

Upon making eye contact with her, you immediately notice that she’s not in her usual black suit. Instead, she’s wearing an overall–looking suit jacket, one that somehow makes her even more attractive. She’s also wearing a ring on the middle finger of her right hand, as well as another on the knuckle of her thumb, which makes you swoon. Bada Lee is the most attractive woman you’ve ever seen.

While you appraise Bada’s appearance, your fiancée takes the chance to appraise you, but is struck with a bolt of shock at your choice of clothing. A ravishing, floor-length black dress with boning along the top adorns your figure, and pushes up the tops of your smooth breasts, displaying them, while a large slit begins along the side of it. It allows Bada to see the garter that holds up your mesh nylons–she feels herself gulp every moment her eyes instinctively dip down to look at your breasts or thigh.

 The dress is paired with lace gloves, and the necklace Bada had given you.

Each element paired together decorates your body like beautiful embellishments, creating the vision of perfection in Bada’s eyes.

Her jaw drops out of surprise and astonishment, but once her mind catches up, various thoughts start to form. They start relatively innocent, “She’s so beautiful.” But then they start to stray, “Everyone at the ball will see her.” Until slowly, apprehension builds in her stomach. “I don’t want others to see her like this.”

“Bada?” Your voice brings your fiancée out of her spiraling thoughts. “Should we get going?”

“Oh, yes.” She clears her throat awkwardly, trying to fight the heat that she feels forming in her cheeks. “Sorry, I was–” She stutters. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You laugh bashfully to yourself. “Thank you. You look amazing as well.”

Bada simply smiles back at you, still recovering from your radiance as she holds out her arm. You take it without hesitating, falling in line with her as you both start walking away from your bedroom and toward the stairs to the first level of the mansion. Hyo follows after you as always, keeping her footsteps light while you and Bada engage in conversation.

“When did you buy this dress?”

“I ordered it a few days ago.” You respond. “I wanted to have a more appropriate dress for the occasion.”

“Well, nobody will be able to keep their eyes off of you,” Bada says confidently, beginning the descent down the stairs, holding onto you tight and making sure to help you balance on your heels.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Bada takes the last step down the stairs first, turning to hold onto your waist as she guides you off the stairs.

“Are we the last to leave?” You ask, noticing the lack of Bebe members.

“Lusher and the rest of the girls left earlier.” Bada nods. “I had them scope out the venue to ensure it’s safe for you.”

“But aren’t all the attendees allies?”

“Yes, so they say.” Bada moves toward the entrance of the mansion, pushing the doors open to reveal her sports car already parked in the cobble-stone driveway. “But after everything you’ve experienced recently, I don’t want to take any risks.”

Bada’s words take you back to the Seong incident, and how terrified you’d been, trapped in her hideout. Your lips curl downwards in a frown, your eyes falling to the floor in thought.

Bada notices the shift in your demeanor, and immediately pauses, turning to face you with a gentle and determined expression. “You don’t have to worry about that happening again. All of Bebe will be paying close attention to you the whole night, and I as well. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

You shake your head, “I’m not scared. I trust you.”

Trust. A bond Bada never thought she’d be able to make again since her mother died. And yet, with you, everything comes naturally and easily.

The car ride to Nam-Su’s is relatively long. You find yourself cycling through many conversations with Bada, ranging from what you did this week, to what she did. Eventually, the conversation strays back to the ball.

“So just how influential are the socialites attending?” You ask.

“Hmm, well in terms of power and connections,” Bada begins, “I outrank all of them.” 

“Really?” You awe. 

“Yes,” Bada nods. “But it’s still very important to make a good impression. They may not have as much influence on me, but making enemies out of them could be detrimental.”

“Right, of course.” You clasp your hands together tightly, hoping the pressure will alleviate some of the nerves building in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s on your mind?” Bada questions softly.

You glance at her and sigh, “I guess I’m just a little worried I’ll say or do something wrong. I’m not used to being around extremely important men and women.”

“You don’t need to be nervous.” Bada grabs your hands and parts them, weaving your fingers together. “You’ll do great.”

“I don’t know–”

“Hey,” She tugs gently on your woven hands, making you turn to face her. “just be yourself. If you do that, they’ll all love you.”

The car comes to a stop just as Bada’s words fade into the open air, driving your focus away from her briefly and to the window instead. Outside, there are already a few paparazzi gathered around the car, their cameras positioned upward, as they wait with baited breath for you to exit.

“Paparazzi.” You breathe.

“They don’t usually show up like this.” Bada frowns, taking her phone out and typing quickly. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it handled.”

Right as she finishes her sentence, all of Bebe walks out of Nam-Su’s mansion onto the driveway. Lusher and Tatter take the lead pushing the paparazzi away from your car, while the rest of the girls focus on creating a walkway for you both to use.

“Hyo,” Bada says firmly.

“Yes, Boss,” your bodyguard answers quickly, fully parking the car and exiting it. She moves to stand next to your side of the car, but doesn’t open your door, because Bada has already left the car and circled around toward you, opening the door for you.

She holds her hand out for you to take as you slide your exposed thigh out of the car, holding onto her as you move to stand up. Immediately, flashes from the paparazzi’s cameras start to bombard you, but thankfully Bada quickly adjusts her position so she’s standing directly in front of you, blocking the lights from blinding you.

Bebe also jumps into action, hollering at the paparazzi who become overeager and start yelling at you to show your face, or for Bada to move out of the way.

“Hey, who do you think you’re talking to?” Lusher asks loudly, her face scrunched up in disgust.

“Have some respect!” Minah adds, stepping closer to a paparazzo and making him back away. 

Bada remains unbothered by the yelling behind her, already used to the demanding nature of having a public life. “Are you okay?”

You take in a deep breath as you stare at Bada, before putting on a confident expression. “Yes.”

“Remember, just be yourself.” She whispers, linking her fingers with yours again. You from your joint hands to Bada, your eyes going wide as you glance at the paparazzi a few feet away, worried they’d see the display of affection. “Don’t worry,” Bada assures you, “they already know. They can’t do anything about it.”

Reinvigorating yourself, you nod firmly, signaling to her that you’re finally ready. Bada nods back, stepping aside so that you’re now shoulder to shoulder as you begin your stride toward the entrance to Nam-Su’s mansion. The paparazzi start to go crazy, snapping photo after photo of you two, but through the noise and the chaos you hold your head high, wanting to make Bada proud.

Behind you both, Hyo and Bebe do crowd control, surprised at the amount of paparazzi that have begun to slowly trickle in, solely focused on snatching an exclusive photo of you to plaster on headlines tomorrow. “Influential Socialite Bada Lee has found her partner?”

You try to dispel all negative thoughts as you stop in front of the entrance, Bada reaching into her left pocket to retrieve her invitation, and handing it to the man standing by the door. He barely takes a look at it before giving you both a bright smile, and motioning for you both to enter.

You look at Bada from the corner of your eye with an amused expression, which she mirrors. “Famous, are we?”

“What could have given you that impression?” Bada says playfully, guiding you further into the main hall.

You have to admit, Nam-Su really had taken no prisoners when it came to decorating his home. A large chandelier dangles low in the center of the room, glittering diamonds falling from the prongs like teardrops, and casting a low, beige light across the room. Tables hug the sides of the walls, with flowers tumbling out of their boxes atop of them, and adjacent to trays of small, Michelin star foods. Everything is beautiful, including the guests.

“Look who it is!” An excited voice reaches your ears, making you turn in that direction out of instinct. A woman with blonde hair, a bright smile, and a mature look heads in your direction. She’s wearing a low cut dusty pink dress that compliments her curves excellently. 

“Ohh, Kirsten!” Bada says excitedly, switching to English to greet her friend. She meets her halfway and gives her a friendly hug, before pulling away. “I didn’t know you were back in Korea."

“I have some business to oversee here before we’re back to Australia and the States.” The woman, Kirsten replies. Her eyes drift away from Bada for a split second, finding yours instead. Her smile immediately widens, noticing how your arm is looped with Bada. “And who is this pretty lady? I love your dress, by the way.”

“Oh, yes,” Bada turns to look at you, showing a genuine enthusiasm at the thought of introducing you to her friend. “Kirsten, this is my fiancée,” she mutters your name while you step forward, a friendly smile adorning your lips as you shake hands with the older woman. 

“Hello,” you greet her in perfect English, watching as her smile doubles in size. “Thank you, I love your dress as well.”

Bada speaks up again, gesturing to her friend, “This is Kirsten, she handles foreign affairs and runs her own group in Australia. We’ve been business partners and friends for a while now.”

“Hold on,” Kirsten cuts in, mimicking an offended expression. “I’m still surprised by the fiancée comment. Why didn’t you tell me you got engaged, Bada?” She acts like a mother scolding her younger daughter, making your smile widen and a small laugh fall from your lips.

“I was trying to keep it under wraps.” Bada says sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

“You can make up for it by inviting me and the girls to the wedding as honored guests.” Kirsten remarks proudly.

“Ah, of course.” Bada nods, smiling widely. “Where are Audrey and Latrice, by the way?”

“Oh, it’s just me this time.” Kirsten clarifies. “They’re both still in Australia, handling things there while I’m here.”

“How often do you come to visit Korea?” You cut in, interested to learn more about her.

“I only really come when I’m needed.” She answers. “No offense, I love it here, but I get homesick very easily.”

“Oh, I would too.” You agree.

“Australia is my favorite place to be.” Kirsten says while making a heart shape with her hand, mimicking a thoughtful expression. Her youthful attitude makes your nerves slowly edd away as you laugh along with her. “Also, can I just say, your English is amazing.”

“Thank you so much.” You place a hand on your chest, the compliment making you smile.

“Of course, of course.” Kirsten takes hold of your hands, swaying them in a playful manner. “Bada, I think you really struck gold here.” She winks in your direction while looking at Bada.

“Yes, I really did.” Your finacée answers earnestly. All the while you and Kirsten were speaking, she’d been watching you silently, admiring the way you interacted with one of her close friends so naturally. If anything, she felt this proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were meant to be a part of her life.

“Ah, Ms. Lee!” Nam-Su’s voice interjects into the conversation. He stands a few feet away, his wife on his arm as he waves you and Bada over.

“Well,” Kirsten starts, “I’ll let you two go. It was wonderful meeting you!” She steps forward to give you a hug, surprising you, but you immediately reciprocate, already feeling comfortable around her.

“Thank you, I enjoyed meeting you as well!” You respond. Kirsten breaks away from the hug, muttering a goodbye to Bada as well before leaving to speak to another guest. You watch her leave for a second, then turn to face Bada. “She’s very sweet.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Your finacée takes your hand again, guiding you in Nam-Su’s direction.

“When did you two meet?”

Bada hums lightly, thinking. “I believe she’d just turned twenty, and I was around my mid twenties.”

“She’s younger than you?” You stare at her with wide, and shocked irises.

“Yes, she’s closer to your age than mine.” Bada nods. “Are you surprised?”

You nod, “She has a very mature look.”

“She does. But don’t feel bad, a lot of people think Kirsten is older than she really is.” Bada slows her pace as you both near Nam-Su, and switches to a more professional demeanor.

“Ms. Lee,” Nam-Su greets Bada again. He then turns to you, “and…”

“This is my finacée,” Bada introduces you to her business partner.

“Ah, I believe I’ve met your parents.” Nam-Su nods. “I see they’ve done well, you are a beautiful young woman.”

“Thank you so much.” You say politely, slightly bowing your head out of respect.

You, Bada, Nam-Su, and occasionally his wife, all engage in a comfortable, and friendly conversation. From this, you learn Nam-Su is a surprisingly carefree man, cutting into the conversation with random anecdotes and jokes. You end up enjoying yourself more than you expected to, but somewhere down the line, the conversation strays to Nam-Su and Bada’s deal, leaving you and the man’s wife out of the loop.

You tap on Bada’s arm lightly, diverting her attention away from Nam-Su to you. “I think I’m going to get a drink from the refreshment table.”

“Oh, sure.” She nods, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

“If you’ll excuse me.” You say to Nam-Su and his wife, gesturing toward the table across the room with champagne flutes and appetizers.

“Be my guest.” Nam-Su smiles.

You break away from the group, walking  toward the refreshments while letting out a deep breath. Although everything’s been going well so far, you still feel mildly stressed, constantly checking your posture and making sure to remember proper etiquette. Reaching the table, you grab a champagne flute, holding it up to your lips and taking a small sip. The bubbly alcohol runs down your throat with a mild burn, the taste sharp, but also sweet.

“You’re looking a little bit tense over there.” A voice comes from beside you, making you turn away quickly and cover your mouth in surprise. “Oh come on, do I look that old to you?” Hyo raises an eyebrow at you, crossing her arms across her chest.

“No, no.” You answer quickly, turning to face Hyo with wide eyes. But when you finally stand face-to-face with her, you’re surprised to make eye contact with hazel eyes, the black sunglasses she wears nowhere to be seen. “You’re not wearing your sunglasses…”

“Did you really think I’d wear them at this kind of event?” Hyo scoffs lightheartedly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without them before.” You mutter, completely ignoring her question. “Oh, and about before, I don’t think you’re old, you just startled me.”

“Well at least you’re being careful.” Hyo shrugs. “Really sparing no expense on formality, huh?”

“This,” you gesture at the ballroom. “Is important to Bada.”

Hyo hums lightly, “It is for you as well.”

“Not as much as her.” You say softly. “Most of the people here have known her much longer than I have. I need to make a good impression.”

Hyo frowns at your words, placing her hand on your back and patting it lightly. “You need to loosen up, kid. Have some fun.”

“I’m trying.” You sigh. “But it’s hard to when all I can think about is the fact that I have to turn away from everyone to drink.”

Hyo laughs at your words, which makes a subtle smile form on your lips. “Well you don’t have to for Bebe, the Boss, or me.”

“You guys are the only exception.” You admit. Silence falls between you two for a few minutes while you continue to take small sips of your champagne, and Hyo turns to face the crowd of partygoers, watching them closely.

“Hey,” your bodyguard suddenly speaks up.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t I take some pictures of you?” She makes a camera gesture with her hands, a playful look on her face.

“Pictures?” You glance around you with a hesitant expression. “Isn’t that inappropriate?”

“Come on, it’ll just be a few. You look cute, don’t you want to post them to social media?” Hyo insists. When you still give her a worried look, she sighs. “I’ll be fast, just give me your phone.”

You reluctantly hand her your phone, which she quickly taps into the camera app, taking a step back so she gets your entire dress and body in the frame.

“Okay,” she drags out the y in the word, “give me a sexy pose.”

You let out a deep breath before positioning yourself comfortably, and switching to a more alluring expression.

Hyo gives a hum of approval. “That’s good, maybe just turn to the side more.”

You do as she asks, the pose accentuating your nylon-covered thigh. 

“Perfect, stay right there.” She holds up a hand before tapping on your phone, and taking the picture. “Okay, another pose.”

You shift around a bit, now growing more confident as you stare into the camera intensely.

“Ohh, that one’s nice.” Hyo mumbles under her breath. “And, last one. Make this one cute.”

You immediately smile, changing your posture to be more youthful and relaxed. Hyo taps one last time on your phone before passing it back to you, muttering compliments. You glance at the photos, surprised by how good they came out. Your figure stands out amidst the partygoers behind you, the low light highlighting your features and giving you a subtle glow.

Truthfully, you look amazing.

“Wow.” You mutter.

“My picture taking skills are out of this world.” Hyo banters. You roll your eyes at her playfully, nudging her shoulder. “I’m kidding kid, you look good.” She looks over your shoulder at the pictures again, nodding. “You should post them.”

You contemplate it for a second before doing as she says. Opening Instagram, you make a new post with all three pictures, simply captioning them with a champagne emoji.

Time passes by relatively fast after that, women and men from across the room approaching you to make conversation and introduce themselves. You greet them all timidly but politely, Hyo moving to stand off to the side, silently remaining vigilant as you slowly begin to loosen up further, even making some friends with the women who compliment your dress.

However, across the room, Bada leans against the wall while holding a glass of champagne in her right hand, alone. After you left, Nam-Su only spoke to her a bit longer before breaking off to speak to other guests. It was then that Bada realized you’d been gone for a while, and turned to look for you, only to see Hyo standing next to you, taking pictures of you.

Like clockwork, that venomous and sickening feeling of jealousy bubbles at the surface, making Bada’s expression immediately sour, and her gaze lock onto you both. She waited for Hyo to stop taking pictures of you so she could approach you, but just as soon as she did, other women started to gather around you, their voices just barely reaching Bada’s ears across the room, but she was able to make out every compliment they hurtled your way. And while Hyo fell back into her role as a bodyguard, that didn’t stop other women–and eventually men, from circling you and talking your ear off.

You stand in the center of it, looking shy and a bit reserved, but it seems that only makes them swoon even more. Like a new blooming flower amidst a garden of plain roses, you stand out like a beautiful jewel.

It makes Bada sick to her stomach. She has to watch from afar as their eyes stray from your eyes, dipping down to your breasts or your thigh, their gaze caressing every feature of yours like predators.

She only lasts a few minutes like that before she pushes off the wall, about to interrupt and make it clear to the crowd around you that you’re already spoke for–that you’re hers, and they will never be able to lay their hands on you like they desire to–when a loud voice stops her.

“Bada!” The voice says excitedly.

Bada turns to face the source, mentally cursing herself for not moving faster when she sees who it is. “Raong.” She says with a light sigh.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see you before! How long have you been here?” Raong attaches herself to Bada without a care in the world, missing how the older woman tries to avoid the touch.

Raong is the daughter of Dong-Geun, one of Bada’s oldest business partners. A while back, when he caught word of Bada being rumored to take over her deceased father’s gang, he’d offered one of his sons up as a potential suitor, trying to make her family. But of course, Bada immediately denied. Though she didn’t explain why at the time, Dong-Geun later found out it was because she wasn’t looking for male suitors.

Since then, he’d begun shoving his daughter at Bada, practically begging her to marry Raong. Bada refused once again, this time because she wasn’t looking for a spouse at the time–or ever. At least, that’s what she believed back then.

Eventually, after years of bothering her, Dong-Geun gave up, realizing it was better to keep Bada as a business partner rather than distance her from him by pushing his daughter onto her day after day.

But it seemed Raong never got the memo. Because although she only spoke to Bada a few times at most, she somehow managed to develop a puppy crush on the (much) older woman. She never left Bada alone at events, becoming a nuisance like no other and making Bada hesitant to make public appearances.

“I arrived about an hour ago.” Bada replies in a monotone voice.

“Really? That’s so long ago.” Raong says, making her eyes go wide in an attempt to look cute. Something that fails miserably.

Bada says nothing in response, instead lifting her glass of champagne up to her lips, about to take a sip of it when Raong suddenly grabs it.

“You really shouldn’t be drinking so much!” She pouts. “It’s bad for your health.”

“It’s champagne.” Bada deadpans, already feeling the soul being sucked out of her.

Raong smiles cheekily, glancing between the alcohol and Bada. “You’re right.” She lifts the glass up to her lips, placing them directly onto the spot Bada had hers on, and takes a big gulp of the drink. She pulls away with a proud look, holding the glass up for Bada to take. “Here.”

“No thank you.” Bada immediately answers, her face stone cold. “I’d rather get a new one.”

For some reason, her comment makes Raong laugh loudly–incredibly loud–to the point that other guests turn their heads in her direction, their expressions showing a mix between shock and disapproval.

“Bada, there’s no need to act so shy.” Raong says, completely oblivious to the negative attention she’s garnered. “We may be in public, but everyone knows that we’re the most attractive couple here.”

“Couple?” Bada scoffs. “Where did you get that from?” Out of instinct, her eyes move from Raong’s figure to search for yours. And when she does, a revelation like no other dawns upon her.

You’re standing in the middle of a circle of men and women like before, but instead of speaking to them, your eyes are solely focused on Bada–no, focused on Raong, who clings to her like a needy girlfriend. Your expression shows nothing but absolute discomfort and anger, a look Bada’s never seen you wear before.

You’re jealous. She realizes, the thought echoing in her head over and over again and making a strange, satisfied feeling build in her gut. You must be feeling like she’d been for the past few days while watching you and Hyo interact–full of resentment and annoyance at the woman touching her.

Then, another thought comes to mind. Will she act upon her jealousy if I push her more?

Bada knows she shouldn’t be this petty. As the older woman in the relationship, and the one more emotionally mature, she should put a stop to Raong’s advances, walk up to you, and whisk you away, ridding both of your sour feelings so you can enjoy the night together free from inhibition.

But the more sinful part of Bada wants you to fully understand how she’s felt the past few days–the turmoil and envy that comes from seeing someone you care about fall into the arms of someone else.

Unfortunately for you, Bada will almost always succumb to sin.

“Come on Bada, I know you feel something for me.” Raong pushes herself against the older woman’s arm, trying to make her breasts pop, and look enticing.

Although Bada feels nothing at the action, she plays along. “You’re right, I do.” She says in a low voice looking down to stare directly into Raong’s eyes.

Bada’s behavior even surprises her, the younger girl gapes for a bit before quickly switching back to her piss-poor attempt at being seductive. “I’m so glad you’ve finally realized we’re meant for each other.” Her voice pitches upwards, trying to do an aegyo voice.

The result only causes a nails-on chalkboard effect, almost making Bada wince and break her facade. But before she can, she quickly glances at you. You’re still staring at her, your expression now much further into the territory of anger, before you shift your gaze somewhere else hastily, trying to make it seem like you hadn’t been glaring at her and Raong.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me this long.” Bada turns back to Raong, playing the act up by tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

The action makes you gasp across the room, daggers physically puncturing your heart.

Bada hears the sound, and has to stop herself from smirking too widely. Yes, finally you understand how it feels.

Raong swoons at Bada’s display, turning away from her with blushing cheeks and giggling loudly.

“Hey, Boss!” Lusher suddenly appears on Bada’s other side, trying to look casual as she glances between Raong and her friend. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” Bada says casually.

“I mean, why are you all over,” she lowers her voice to a whisper to say the next word, “the pest!”

“I’m not all over her, I’m simply being polite.” Bada mutters back, discreetly glancing at you yet again.

“Yeah, right. When have you ever been polite to her?” Lusher catches her straying gaze, finding you on the other side of it. Immediately, it all clicks in her mind. “If this is about what I said a few days ago–”

“Shouldn’t you be keeping a lookout right now?” Bada cuts her off sharply.

“Boss…” Lusher says in a disapproving tone. Her friend doesn’t budge, instead turning her back toward her and speaking to Raong again. Sensing the conversation is over, Lusher walks away with a pit of guilt burning in her stomach, seeing you struggle to hide your emotions as Bada pretends to fawn over the younger woman beside her.

“What’s going on?” Kirsten stops at Lusher’s side, her eyebrows dipping downward as she observes Bada’s strange behavior.

“I think I might have caused this.” Lusher admits, hanging her head in shame.

If someone were to ask you how you were feeling at the moment, the best word to describe it would be "out-of-body."

You truly feel like you’re watching the events in front of you unfold as an omnipotent being. Your eyes are able to take in every movement of both Bada and the girl on her arm to the finest detail, which proves to be a cruel form of torture.

Why is this happening? You find yourself questioning over and over again in your mind. Why is Bada acting this way? Why is she allowing that woman to touch her? And why does it look like she enjoys it?

You swear you feel bile form in your throat with every touch they exchange, and although there’s nothing more that you want to do than to run away in shame, you physically can’t. You’re rooted to the floor like a statue, cursed to watch your fiancée flirt with another woman.

Perhaps this is your fault for being so naive. Did you really think that Bada would remain loyal to you when your engagement had been a business deal from the start? When she so firmly stated that she’d never fall in love with you? How could you have believe that she felt something for you when she touched you so gently, smiled at you, and made you laugh?

Had Bada been secretly having affairs with women from the start? Had she touched them like she did, you? Did she mutter to them how beautiful they looked? Did she undress them with her eyes?

…How could you be so stupid–so young and stupid.

But the worst is yet to come.

You watch in slow motion as the woman beside Bada shifts on her feet, putting all her weight onto her tippy toes as she reaches up to place a kiss on your fiancée’s lips. They’re just about to touch–

“Alright kid, let’s go.” Hyo steps in front of you, blocking your view of Bada and the woman. She grabs onto your arm in a hurry, taking off her jacket and placing it on top of your head to shield you from any straying gazes as she fast-walks you out of the Nam-Su’s mansion, barely managing to tell Lusher that she’s taking you home before you’re out of the door, the only evidence of your attendance the droplets of small tears dotting the floor.

The entire car ride is dead silent, Hyo’s lips sealed tight into lines, and not a single sound coming from you in the backseat that she has to check every few minutes on you to make sure you’re still there.

You are, but your head is down, her suit jacket blocking her view of you as you fight back waves of tears building in your eyes.

“Bada, I have to tell you the truth, I’ve always been in love with you…” The second those words left Raong’s lips, and she began leaning upward in an attempt to kiss her, Bada knew she went too far.

She immediately breaks away from Raong’s hold, the disgusted face she’d been trying to hold back for so long surfacing in an instant. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you mean?” Raong still keeps her voice artificially high, trying to get closer to Bada again. “Are you too shy to do it in public? Should we go somewhere private–”

“I will be going nowhere with you.” Bada interrupts in a stern voice, straightening out her suit. “I’m engaged.”

Raong’s smile finally drops, a sour look crossing her face. “So you really did propose to another woman.” She glances from the floor to Bada again, mustering up another embarrassing “sexy” look. “But it’s fine, she doesn’t have to know.”

Bada scowls at the younger woman. “I mean this in the most polite way possible,” she watches as Raong starts to frown, “I would never choose you, or any other woman over my fiancée. She is the only woman I will ever touch, or kiss.”

Raong stands in front of Bada, frozen and humiliated beyond belief.

“I suggest you stop making advances toward me, if you know what’s good for you.” Bada finally says the words she’s been wanting to for years now, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off of her shoulders. She leaves Raong standing there without a second thought, heading in your direction before she stops, realizing you’re not there anymore.

Her eyebrows furrow, an immediate spike of worry hitting her heart as she searches for Lusher through the crowd of partygoers. 

When she finds her friend, she walks as quickly as possible towards her. “Where did she go?” Bada says, looking from one side of the room to the other in a frenetic manner.

Lusher glances at Kirsten who stands next to her, hesitating before answering. “Hyo took her home…”

Bada’s eyes narrow to slits in milliseconds. “Lusher, I’m taking your car.”

The Lee mansion feels eerily quiet when Bada enters, the lights reflecting off the white marble flooring, casting an ominous glow as she ascends the stairs.

Although she knows the mess she’s caused is purely her own fault, a part of her wants to deny it. She wants to call it retribution for all the mental torment she’s experienced over the past few days.

She wants to call it that, but she knows she can’t.

Standing in front of your door, Bada’s eyes find Hyo’s figure with ease. Your bodyguard is wearing her classic sunglasses again, but this time she doesn’t greet her superior. She doesn’t even acknowledge her presence, simply stands there, her lips in a firm line with her arms crossed against her chest.

Bada briefly considers speaking with Hyo, but eventually decides against it, knowing she should check on you first, before anything else. Her hand reaches up to knock on the wood of your door, the sound echoing through the hallway as she retracts her fist.

She waits there for about three minutes with no response before pushing the door open and entering your bedroom.

Most of the lights have been turned off, just one raining down a small amount of light and illuminating the room. Bada closes the door behind her, the guilt that had already been brewing in her stomach doubling when she notices you’re not in bed, but sitting in front of your vanity with your dress still on, staring at your reflection with an emotionless expression.

Bada mutters your name, stopping a few feet away from you. “I knocked on your door, did you hear me?”

You don’t respond, only continue to stare at your reflection, completely disregarding her presence.

Bada frowns at you, clearly disappointed by your silence. “You shouldn’t have left so suddenly. I was worried about you.” This time, she sees something shift in your eyes, but still, you remain quiet and stock still. Bada huffs, becoming increasingly frustrated as she gets closer to you, stopping right by your side. “Is that Hyo’s jacket?” She gestures to your bodyguard’s suit that’s strewn across your shoulders.

This time when you don’t answer her, Bada finally snaps, releasing the tension that’d been brewing in her for so long.

“Would you say something to me?” She says, the words coming out much harsher than she intended them to.

Your lips stay stuck together for a minute before they finally part. “What do you want me to say, Bada?” Your voice sounds an equal mix of tired, and uncharacteristically cold. “You made yourself perfectly clear at the ball.”

Your fiancée stares at you from through the reflection of the mirror, trying to lock eyes with you. “Why are you acting this way?”

“Why am I acting this way?” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You shouldn’t ask such obvious questions.”

“I’m asking because I don’t know.” She lies through her teeth. She does know, and despite that she continues to push you, wanting to hear you say the words, “I’m jealous.”

“You know, if you wanted to fool around with other women, the least you could do was take it somewhere private where I wouldn’t have to see.” You shoot back, tone bordering on venomous.

“I wasn’t fooling around with her.” Bada denies firmly. “And you’re one to talk.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You finally look away from the mirror, turning to face Bada with a furious expression.

“Hyo took you home.” Your fiancée lists. “You’re wearing her jacket. She took photos of you while we were at a public event. You’ve been spending a lot of time with her.”

“Oh please, spare me, Bada Lee,” you interrupt, your voice rising. “She’s my bodyguard! And I don’t touch her like you touched that woman. I haven’t kissed her–”

“I didn’t kiss Raong,” Bada interjects.

“I spend so much time with her because all you do is work all day!” You continue ranting. “I have never once disrespected you like you just did to me thirty minutes ago.”

“It’s not like that–” Bada tries to explain herself, but now that you’re speaking, you can’t stop.

“I know you said that you would never fall in love with me, but what the fuck?” You exclaim. “How could you just kiss her in front of all of those people when you introduced me as your fiancée?”

“I didn’t kiss her.” Bada reiterates, feeling her patience wear thin.

“Some of the guests know my parents!” You’re bordering on tears once again. “Can you imagine what they’ll think when they hear that my future wife kissed another woman in front of the most influential people in South Korea?”

“God damn it–” Bada steps forward, her frustration finally getting the better of her as she grabs you by the waist, pulling you flush against her body, forcing you to look into her eyes. "I never kissed Raong," she says again, her voice full of force. "I would never kiss her. I would never kiss a woman that isn't you."

Silence falls heavily across the room, your expression shifting from anger, to confusion, then to surprise.

“If you believe there is another woman out there that I would rather press my lips against, you’re crazy.” She whispers.

You stare into Bada’s eyes, completely taken aback by the sudden turn of events before your eyes slip downwards, to where her lips are.

Bada does the same, although she takes it a step further, bringing her thumb up to press onto your bottom lip, watching the plush skin accommodate for the pressure she applies.

“I want you,” she mutters inches away from your lips. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you.”

As if an invisible string had been snapped, both you and Bada surge forward, placing your lips against each other with unrestrained passion. Bada’s right hand grabs onto the side of your face, tilting your head backward as you two move in synch, completely lost in the taste of each other. She pulls you in even closer to the point that your chests knock against each other with every labored breath, the desire between you two so strong that you can’t help but moan.

Bada hears the sound and feels a pulse go straight to her cunt, the build-up to this simple kiss being so long that she can’t help but revel in it. She bites down on your lip and the second you part your lips to gasp, she slips her tongue into your mouth.

Your teeth clash in a heated dance, your tongues caressing each others as Bada turns you around so your back is toward the direction of your bed, walking you backward quickly so that you fall onto it, your body laid out on the cushion like a fallen angel. She follows you onto the bed, keeping herself above you with a single hand as she continues to kiss you deeply, a small string of saliva falling from your lips because of your sloppiness.

Bada’s other hand busies itself by grabbing onto your exposed thigh and hiking it against her hip, pushing her thigh between the gap of yours. Finally she pulls away, both of you panting loudly into the open air of the room. “Fuck.” Bada curses. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.”

Your arms wrap around her shoulders, wanting to kiss her again because of her confession.

“I bet you’ve wanted to too, huh?” She smirks, leaning down to just barely graze her lips against yours, not quite giving you what you want. “That’s why you got so jealous when you thought I kissed Raong, right?”

You huff at Bada’s words, hearing that woman’s name you frustrates you.

“Oh, are you mad?” She taunts you, laughing. “Yeah, you’re really mad aren’t you?” The hand that’d been stationed on your thigh moves under the fabric of your dress and inwards, towards your hot and sticky pussy. “You’re mad because you imagined me touching her like this, didn’t you?” Her fingers ghost against the material of your underwear, already finding a wet patch forming at the bottom of it.

Bada smirks widely. She’s got you right where she wants you.

“Did you imagine me touching her through her panties?” Bada’s fingers move up and down the wet patch, making it grow with every passing second.

You bite your lip, trying hard to suppress your moans at the feeling of your finacée’s long fingers touching you where you need her most.

“Did you imagine me playing with her pussy and making her moan like a whore?” Bada nudges her nose with yours, enjoying every second of your withering composure. “Huh? Are you going to say something?”

You shake your head, wanting to deny the fact that you indeed had imagined all those things in your blind fit of jealousy, which only made you spiral further.

“No?” Bada whispers in a higher-pitched voice, trying to mimic you.

You don’t respond.

“Say something.” She demands, her voice dropping and her eyes narrowing into a glare. It lacks any real hatred or heat but does burn with sexual desire. “Say something or I’ll leave you here wet and panting bitch in heat.”

You finally release your lip, completely believing that she’d leave you like this. “No, please,” you whimper quietly.

“Ah, she speaks.” Bada smiles, continuing to circle your clit with her fingers, now applying more pressure. “Now tell me, did you imagine any of those things I described to you?”

Again you grow quiet, embarrassment flooding your veins.

Bada’s smile drops in an instant. “What did I say?” She withdraws her hand from your clit, moving it back toward your thigh.

“Wait–” you cry out, looking completely in anguish. “I did! I did!”

Bada hums in approval, placing her fingers against your underwear again. “Which one?”

“I–” The words die on your tongue, the small pressure that Bada’s applying to you making your sensitive body go haywire.

“Which one?” She says again firmly.

“The–the last one!”

“Oh baby,” Bada pouts mockingly, “that’s not good enough. Tell me exactly which one.”

“I imagined you playing with her pussy.” You admit, feeling more shame in that moment than you ever had before.

“Good job, babe.” She praises you. “You finally got the words out. Should I give you a reward?”

“Yes, please,” you practically beg.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” Bada looks at you through hooded eyes, smirking. She pulls away the material of your panties and inserts her finger, your hot, wet walls sucking her in compliantly.

"Bada!" You all but scream, your legs jerking in pleasure.

"You're so wet," Your finacée whispers, hearing the sheer amount of slickness your body produces. "Is this all for me?"

"All for you, Bada." You immediately reply, tears beginning to build in your eyes.

"Good." Pumping her finger agonizingly slow, Bada flips the fabric of your dress up so she can watch your pussy open and close, beating against her finger in a fast rhythm.

"Bada–" You whine, closing your eyes and trying to move against her long, firm finger. "Touch me more, please."

"Yeah? You want more?" Bada says, continuing her slow pace.

"Yes." You cry.

"But do you think you deserve it?" She asks, glancing between your wrecked pussy to your face, which is beautifully expressive.

“I don’t kn–” you hesitate, “yes, I do.”

“I don’t know.” Bada cocks her head to the side, staring at you deeply. “You spoke to me very rudely just moments before.” She makes a thoughtful expression before looking down at you again. “I think you should apologize.”

“I’m sorry–” you begin, but she cuts you off immediately.

“You should apologize for wearing this dress to the ball.” Bada insists. “For looking so fucking sexy and letting everyone eye fuck you while I had to stand there and watch.”

“I’m s–”

“Apologize for making me think you and Hyo were fooling around behind my back.”

At this point you’re so far gone and dizzy, you don’t even fully register what she’s saying, only that you’re desperate for her to touch you more.

“I’m sorry for everything, Bada.” You say through heaving breaths.

Your fiancée gives you a satisfied smile. “I accept your apology, baby.”

Wasting no more time, Bada dives in with an almost inhumane speed, placing her mouth against you, and letting her tongue part your pussy lips as she drives it straight into you. She's rewarded with another loud, pornographic moan as she begins to slurp your juices up, volatile sounds coming from her mouth, and your slick pussy.

Bada’s nose presses against your clit in a dreadfully delicious way, stimulating it and making your legs shake around her head.

“Bada!” You chant her name like a prayer, feeling insane amounts of pleasure you never thought you’d experience in your lifetime.

She mumbles something back, the words lost against the skin of your pussy as she moves her tongue in and out of you faster, adjusting her grip around your thighs so she presses even more of your weight onto her.

Bada pulls away with a heaving breath, her chest rising and falling at a concerning speed. But she doesn't stop, she never does, and before you know it she's diving back in, licking and sucking on your pearly-shaped clit, giving you dizzying pleasure.

She flicks her tongue a few more times, dragging her lips and pressing them firmly down until she's driving her tongue back into your pussy, and moving her tongue around your walls, sucking up all the wetness you produce.

And there's tons of it—some of it is dripping down Bada’s chin in a nasty combination with her spit, the murky substance stickily beading down until it drops onto her clavicle.

"Oh fuck," you moan, your head being thrown back with your mounting pleasure. Although it felt like she’d just started, you already feel an orgasm building in the depths of your stomach. "I think I'm gonna cum!"

Briefly popping off your pussy, Bada's raspy voice speaks up. "Do it. Drench me baby, fucking cream all over my face."

Your world goes white for a long moment, your fiancée’s chants egging you on, telling you to just let the pleasure consume you. So you let it happen, you let your pussy throb and release its slick all over Bada’s face.

Quiteness follows your orgasm, but the buzzing in your ears doesn't leave you alone, nor does your bride-to-be.

“Oh baby,” Bada’s head backs away from your body, the lower half of her face absolutely drenched in your cum. She licks her lips, savoring every droplet of your essence, “you taste like a fucking dream.”

“Bada.” You whine, her words making your pussy go hot again. “Don’t say things like that.”

“What? You don’t want me to tell you how pretty your pussy is?” She leans over your face again, wiping your cum off her face with her fingers and licking it after. “Don’t want me to tell you that I could die a happy woman between your legs?”

You wrap your legs around Bada’s waist, pulling her in closer so you can give her a kiss. She lets you, thankfully, and on her tongue you can taste yourself, which makes you moan.

When she pulls away she’s wearing a much more tender look, like your kiss had brought her back from a trance. “I’m not done with you yet.” She whispers, bringing her hands down to grope your tits through the fabric of your dress.

Although it’s late and you’re already tired, you still nod at her, slipping into a submissive state yet again.

Bada smiles at you before completely getting off of the bed, making you stare up at the ceiling in confusion. You prop yourself up on your elbows to see what she’s doing, and what you see is nothing short of heavenly.

Bada’s stripped herself of her tie, her customized suit jacket, and is now only in a white dress shirt–but not for long. She chucks off the wrinkled shirt, revealing the black sports bra she was wearing under, and… a pair of muscled arms and abs?

You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Naturally, as the leader of a mafia group, she’s required to stay relatively lean and strong, yet every divot and curve of her muscles makes you want to jump her bones even more.

Bada doesn’t even realize you’re staring, she’s much too busy taking off her pants, now only in her sports bra and her boxers, with something else in her hand. She looks up then, finding you practically gaping at her, making her smirk.

“Already have you star-struck and I haven’t even started yet.” She chuckles, taking the thing in her hand and placing it closer to the ground so she can step through it.

It’s then your eyes focus in on it, realizing that–oh.

A long, girthy black strap sits across Bada’s pelvis. Your eyes widen, your heart racing a the monstrous length and girth of her strap, as well as the texture and ridges on it. You weren't just going to be fucked, you were going to be absolutely destroyed.

“When did you–” your voice dies out, completely lost for words.

“I made a stop to my bedroom before coming here,” Bada answers easily. “Call it wishful thinking, but I felt I’d need it.” She grabs a bottle of lube from the pocket of her dress pants, about to apply some to her cock when she sees movement out of her peripheral and stops.

Absolutely mesmerized, you crawl over to Bada, the material of your dress slightly pulled up so she can trace the curve of your plump ass.

Reaching out an excited hand, you grasp the base of her cock, and open your lips wide before placing them on the mushroom head of her strap.

Immediately Bada drops the lube, her head dropping down in awe to watch you lick and suck on her cock, her jaw falling open. "Fuck." She grabs your head softly, helping you move up and down, her eyes rolling shut. For a second Bada feels like the strap attached to her really is her cock, and that she can feel your plump lips move against it, bringing her unbridled pleasure.

Your slobber drips all the way down her strap and wets her grey boxers, the material turning a damp shade darker. Bada pulls you down her cock gently, trying to avoid gagging you too harshly, but she can't deny the jolt in her cunt when she hears you struggle to take the inches, a slight choking sound murmuring against the black plastic.

"You like that, don’t you?" Bada finally gathers her bearings enough to speak again.

Your eyes glisten with tears as you nod, moving off of her cock to gasp out a breath. "Please, can't wait any longer."

"Okay, baby." Bada nods, giving into your wants easily and moving on top of you again. "I’m going to make you feel so good, honey." Taking her slick cock, she gently guides it to your pussy. "Open wide."

You immediately comply and spread your legs as wide as you can, watching with parted and panting breaths how your fiancée finally nudges the head of her cock into your pussy.

Slick and wide, her cock splits your pussy open only with its mushroom head inserted, making you let out a debauched and loud moan, the sound reverberating against the walls and filling every pore in the room.

"Shit." Bada curses, feeling herself come to a stop with how hard you're clenching down on her strap. "You've gotta relax, pretty. You're very tight."

Huffing, you attempt to relax your muscles, and slowly but surely, she’s able to nudge in another inch or two before you start clenching down hard again. Her thumb comes up to your clit and rubs it gently, making your eyes close and another moan slip from your lips.

"C'mon babe, take a nice deep breath in and relax." Bada guides you, rubbing your clit with slightly more force, and at a faster speed.

"Okay." You choke out, taking in a long and shaky breath.

She feels you loosen a bit, and again she takes the chance to slide her cock further inside you, and she's finally able to slip it all in. She breathes out a long, drawn-out curse when all she's able to see of the black plastic is the small sliver of the base.

"There you go." Bada pulls her hand up to your thighs, squishing their flesh in her grip and rubbing soothing circles into them.

Your pussy clenches at your finacée’s raspy praise, a strangled whine leaving your lips. "Bada—"

"Shhh," Bada moves forward, even able to push slightly more of the strap into you as she reaches over to give you a sweet kiss, shushing your loud cries. "I've got you. Promised I was gonna make you feel good, remember?"

"Mhmm." You hum, your eyes sparkling.

"I'm not going to let my wife down." Bada keeps to her promise and begins moving, her strap slowly pulling out of your wet pussy, then firmly coming back in and making your back arch.

"Holy shit." You awe, your mouth falling open. She hadn't even started yet. Bada then begins to pick up her pace slowly, pulling and pushing through your pussy's walls, the base of her strap slapping against your lower lips and making loud sounds fill the room.

"Damn it," Bada curses, her eyes drinking in the sight of you. Plump lips parted open, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, your dress falling so that your tits are spilling out and bouncing in kind with her harsh thrusts.

Leaning forward, Bada takes a nipple into her mouth, her unoccupied hand grabbing and caressing the other, her eyes falling closed at the feeling of your tit in her mouth. Fuck, if she knew she could have had you like this long ago, she wouldn’t have waited so long.

But in a weird way, the wait made it even more satisfying, made the sounds of your pornographic moans even more sweet to Bada’s ears. 

"Bada!" There's not a single thought in your mind anymore, the space being occupied by the woman who is thrusting into your pussy at a dizzying speed, and covering your tits in her spit. The woman who swore she would never fall in love with you. The woman who’d risked her life to save you from kidnappers. Your fiancée.

Bada's mouth leaves your nipple with an obscene pop, the flesh around it slightly bruised a darker color from her sucking. "Does that feel good baby?"

"It feels so good." You almost scream, your eyes now opening to see Bada’s frantic thrusts, and how sweat is starting to form on the arches of her brows. "You're so good."

Bada closes her eyes, your words going straight to her cunt. "It's about to get a whole lot better." She leans forward again, this time grabbing your legs and folding them up, then pushing them as far as they can into your chest, giving her uninhibited access to your pussy.

You're seeing stars, you're sure of it. Bada's cock is lodged so deep in you, you swear you feel her in your stomach, your eyes widening to the size of saucers. She pounds into you at an incomparable speed, wet, sloshy sounds squirting from your pussy, making a beautiful melody with your moans, and Bada’s low groans.

A ring of cream begins to form around the base of her strap, the milky white substance catching her attention and making her teeth grit painfully against each other. "Are you close?"

"Yes, yes! Don't—don't stop!" You cry out,  your bedroom ceiling moving in your vision with every thrust of her strap.

Bada's breath catches, feeling the stimulation of her strap rubbing and pushing against her cunt build up into an orgasm. "Fuck, me too." She dips down to give you a purely tongue kiss before pulling away, panting. "Cum. Fucking cum, honey. Cum all over me."

And you do. Your mind goes blank and you let out your loudest, most obscene moan and cum on Bada's cock.

She follows close behind, letting out a low and drawn-out groan, cumming in her boxers.

Your body becomes liquid against your sheets, the only sound in the now quiet room being your staggered breath, and your fiancée’s panting.

Kissing your ankle, Bada gently unfolds your legs, making sure to be careful as she lays them back against her bedsheets and slowly pulls some of her strap out of you. You wince a bit and let out a choked whine, which she quickly silences with a sweet kiss and mumbled praises.

"It's alright, honey. You're good, you're with me." Eventually, Bada's able to fully usher her cock out of your still-tight walls and take off her harness, throwing her strap into some random, unimportant corner of the room. "Great job. You were so good, my love."

"Bada." You croak without thought.

"Yeah, honey?" Bada coos, caressing your cheek with her rough thumb.

"I'm tired."

“I know, sweet girl.” She mumbles, placing her forehead against your own. “Catch your breath, okay? I’ll clean you up. You don’t have to do anything.” Staying there for only a few more seconds, Bada sits up and walks to your bathroom, grabbing a towel and running it under some water before returning to you. She gently parts your legs, shushing any hisses of pain that leave your lips as she cleans you up, and helps you out of your tight dress.

Once you’re rid of your clothing, she moves to sit next to you.

“How are you feeling now?” She asks, staring down at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Sore.” You admit.

“Already?” Bada looks down at your legs, frowning. “Here,” She places her large hand on your thigh, slowly kneading your flesh in soothing circles, making you let out small, blissful sighs. “Does this help?”

“Yes.” You nod, smiling at her before closing your eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey.” A comfortable silence settles into the air between you two before your finacée breaks it. “About before,” she suddenly begins, her voice low and remorseful. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

You stare at her quietly, then speak up. “Why did you do it?”

Bada looks down at your body and sighs. “I wanted you to understand how I felt.”

“What do you mean?”

She shifts her gaze to your eyes. “I’ve been jealous of you and Hyo for days now.”

“Hyo?” You say incredulously. “Wait, is this about her taking me home? Because she only did that to stop me from seeing you and that woman kiss.”

“It’s not just because of that.” Bada shakes her head. “You two have gotten very close recently, and I didn’t know how to feel about it.” She closes her eyes, reaching deep within her to find the right words. “I guess I felt envious because she can spend all her day with you, while I’m constrained to my limited free time to see you.”

Slowly, the wheels in your cogs start to turn, and suddenly everything makes sense. “Bada, Hyo is like an older sister to me.” You tell her. “I don’t see her in that way.”

Your fiancée opens her eyes, staring at you with a mildly surprised look. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You nod.

“Oh, I see.” Bada moves her hands to your other thigh, starting to massage it. “I don’t see Raong in any romantic light either, by the way. I’ve been trying to get her off my back for years.”

“Well, clearly she doesn’t understand.” You huff.

The action is so cute, Bada can’t help but laugh. “Believe me, she understands now.” When you give her a confused look, she elaborates. “When she tried to kiss me, I told her I had a fiancée.”

Bada’s words make you smile shyly, butterflies dancing in your tummy.

“And…” She trails off, a soft smile also finding her lips. “I told her that I’m in love with my fiancée, and I would never so much as think about devoting myself to anyone other than her.”

The l word that falls from Bada’s lips makes your eyes grow impossibly wide, and your lips part in astonishment. She watches it all, never shifting her expression away from being loving.

“Bada…” you trail off, tears in your eyes. “I love you too.”

Gazing into the other’s eyes, you meet halfway in a sweet kiss, one that seals your love, and commitment to each other. 

“You are my everything,” Bada mumbles against your lips. “I will always succumb to you.”

taglist:

@aericrys, @somerandomtinyperson, @bluebada, @dallaji, @luvjanexx, @hyejuwu, @diana-rose-25, @jjlovesbada, @cephox, @prilux, @youknow1234, @fae-the-wanderer, @mightymyo, @aein-tings

(if your name is crossed out i wasn't able to to tag you)

want to join the taglist? send me a message or comment saying you'd like to be on it, and i'll add you!

[remusmoonbaby]

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ PROVOKING: DRACO MALFOY

ᥫ᭡。draco malfoy x afab! reader; you just love to provoke me don't you?

༘⋆ warnings: not proof read, reader feeling bratty due to the fact she is simply bored, reader teasing draco while on an errand in diagon alley, draco getting fed up and teaches reader a lesson, Draco uses the pet names; my love and my pet/pet and reader calls him dear throughout the fic, close proximity, reader's hands being bound behind her back by draco, neck kisses, f receiving fingering, edging/orgasm denial, promise of the punishment being continued at home.

༘⋆ author's note: hello! if you guys know who the creator of this wonderful draco art is please let me know so i can give them their credit!! i hope you enjoy my first draco fic on my blog! :) i'm currently hyper fixating on him (and anything dramione...) so here is a product of it! this was so much fun to write! i hope you enjoy my loves 💚

༘⋆ word count: 1.5k

ᥫ᭡。if you wish to see more of my works make sure to check out my m.list!

You felt yourself let out a sigh for what felt like the umpteenth time while you walked along side draco on an early morning errand run in Diagon Alley.  

Currently you were both between two bookshelves to which Draco was scanning the many isles looking for the books he needed for his case at work.  

"Draco..." you called out softly as you tried to gain his attention.  

"Yes, my love?" he said as he continued to scan the spines of the books.  

You huffed lowly as you felt yourself start to get a bit frustrated with him. But that's when you suddenly get an idea.  

Trying to hold in a giggle so that Draco didn't hear you, you wrapped your arms around his waist and squished yourself against him.  

"I’m bored..." you said sounding muffled as you had the side of your face mushed against his back. 

You could hear a low chuckle from Draco as he gently placed one hand on top of yours while giving them a soft caress. "I'm almost done here, just be a little more patient my pet."  

Letting out a small moan of protest, you waited until draco let go of your hands to go into action with your small plan.  

You gently traced small patterns with the tip of your finger on his lower stomach while slowly traveling to the waist band of his black colored slacks.  

"My love." Draco let out a low warning as he started to feel you pushing in your fingers through the waist band, and slightly playing with his happy trail.  

"Hmm, yes Draco?" you said innocently as if you weren't sure as to what he was warning you about.  

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?" he said as he felt his breath hitch slightly at the end of his sentence when the tips of your fingers grazed just the top part of his base.  

“Oh, just entertaining myself dear.” you said with a small giggle as your other hand started to slowly descend downwards to trace small enticing patterns on his clothed bulge. 

Draco stopped looking at the damned books in front of him as he looked down at your hands that were trying, and doing their best, at rousing him just because you were bored.  

Wanting to get more of reaction out of Draco after feeling him tense up completely, you pushed yourself against him more where you had much better chance of taking hold of his base entirely with the hand inside of his pants.  

Just the feel of your wondering hands was enough to make Draco start to become semi-hard, but it was the fact that you were doing this in public, which was not very much like you but nonetheless unsurprising to Draco that you are doing this for attention.  

Once he felt that you fingers wrap around the base of his cock, he knew he needed to intervene.  

You felt Draco take hold of your hands, to which he took your chance of being surprised he took hold of your hands and pinned them behind your back as he pushed you against the bookshelves.  

“Muffliato.” Draco said as he casted the muffling spell harshly while also casting a disillusionment charm, concealing the two of you from wondering eyes in the shop.  

“Draco-!” You said with a gasp as you felt the air in your lungs leave you a bit when Draco pushed you into the bookshelves.  

“Tell me dear, do you enjoy teasing me in such a public space knowing you will be punished for it?”

he said into your ear as you felt his free hand grip your hip. 

You knew this is where it would land you, but at least you had his full attention now. “Y-yes.” you softly responded as you also gave him a small nod.  

“Such a disobedient pet.” he tsked as his grip on your hip tightened causing you to arch your back slightly and to press into his hardening length.  

The sensation of you pressing into him caused Draco to groan as it brought a stir at the base of his spine. The grip on your hip increased even more, that you knew it would leave a wonderful bruising of his fingertips for you to marvel at the next morning.  

“Must I teach you a lesson here pet?” he said sensationally causing goosebumps to form along your neck and arms.  

“Please...” you whimpered as you pressed yourself against him fully as you tried to tugged on your wrist that were being held onto tightly by his other hand.  

“You’re dirty pet.” Draco purred into your ear as he slowly moved the hand on your hip down to your upper thigh and circling it to travel underneath the length of your skirt.  

You felt his thumb start to trace the edges of your laced underwear causing you to shift your feet side to side as you started to feel impatient. The sensation of his silver signet ring biting into the skin of your wrists was a silent warning for you to stop moving.  

“Be patient.” Draco spat out as he cupped your clothed mound.  

“Draco please I can’—” you cut yourself off with a startled gasp at the sensation of Draco of him inflicting a slap onto your throbbing clit.  

Draco moved your sopping underwear to the side as he started to mess with your wet folds. “So, wet already, are we? I haven’t even done anything to you yet.” he teased as he chuckled while his fingers circled your entrance.  

Shivers of pleasure coarse throughout your body as Draco simultaneously played with your folds and placed open-mouthed kisses on the side of your neck.  

A sharp gasp that soundly remotely close to a startled moan escapes through your lips as you felt Draco insert a finger up to his first knuckle inside of your awaiting entrance.  

“Mm, so eager inside of you.” Draco said in a teasing tone as he slowly pumped his finger inside of you while he traced lazy circles on your clit.  

Slowly you felt the sparks of pleasure travel from the base of your spine course down your legs, causing you to curl your toes in pleasure.  Sensing your growing pleasure due to you tightening your walls around his finger, Draco inserted another finger to join in pleasuring you even further.  

“Are you enjoying yourself my love?” Draco said in a husked tone as he started to quicken his pace with his fingers.  

“Ah—y-yes Draco!” you moaned out as you arched your back into him making the top of your head to touch his chest, giving you the chance to see the lust clouding his gray eyes.  

“Good—” he said as he let go of your wrists and took hold of your lower jaw as he smashed his lips onto yours.  

You gasped into the kiss, giving Draco access of inserting his tongue inside of your mouth. The two of you fought for a moment of dominance before you let Draco take the reins completely which created a messy, wet kiss that was absolutely dirty but prefect giving the moment the two of you were in.  

Draco picked up the pace even faster with his fingers as his thumb took charge of creating quick tight circles on your clit, causing you to squeal into the kiss as you felt yourself start to shiver with you impending orgasm coming in hot and fast. 

Just as you started to feel the tightening feeling in your abdomen, every sensation of pleasure was halted which caused a moment of confusion cloud your pleasure-seeking brain.  

“What—” 

“I’m glad you were feeling good my love but—” Draco said as he looked down at you with a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “—this is only the beginning of your punishment pet.” he said as he straightened his back out, seeming more composed than you were.  

“Draco, no! Please, I was so —” you were cut off mid complaint by Draco taking hold of the back of your neck and bringing your faces close to one another.  

“Cease your complaining pet, you’ll receive more of your desired punishment at home where I know there isn’t pervs lurking about the corner.” He said in a low growl as he gently caressed your flushed cheek with his other hand.  

“O-okay.” you said deferentially as you bit your lower lip in anticipation.  

“Good, I’m glad you came into an understanding my love.” Draco said sweetly as he placed a kiss on your slightly damped forehead before he reached behind you and grabbed the book, he was looking for behind you.  

“Come my love, our business is done here for the day.” Draco said in an endearing tone as he looked over his shoulder to give you a loving smile that left you flustered on the spot.  

Quickly, you casted a silent charm over yourself to compose yourself to look more presentable before you caught up to Draco at the counter where the elderly wizard checked out the book Draco got.  

With everything done, you both walked out of the store hand in hand as anticipation and excitement coursed through you as you couldn’t wait to side-along appariate back to your home at the Malfoy Estate.

[redjademilktea]

Last night's episode of 4 Sided Dive was absolutely wonderful in terms of the amount of insight and perspective we got. Not only the Crown Keepers interlude, but also for campaign 3's themes as a whole.

Specifically what fascinated me though, was the incredible analogy Aimee drew between the Ruidian culture and colonial influence on indigenous/colonized spaces in real life (around the 1h32m mark for reference). It was amazing question to ask and I'll love Aimee endlessly for it because it touches on am interesting parallel between the discourse surrounding the Exandiran gods and what they thematically can represent to us as an audience.

Before I dive into my thoughts, I want to preface this by saying this is my specific perspective as a queer woman of color and daughter of a refugee. While my year-5-in-a-PhD-program brain may just be over analyzing this too much, what Aimee brought up just deeply resonated with me in a way that I don't really see talked about in discussions around the themes of campaign 3. Additionally, the ideas I'll be talking about borrow heavily from Christine Taitano DeLisle's Placental Politics: CHamoru Women, White Womanhood, and Indigeneity under U.S. Colonialism in Guam (2023). Its an incredible piece on indigenous knowledge production and political action that importantly looks to decenter colonial perspectives and history (and more importantly recenter indigenous histories, knowledge, and perspectives in a way that allows us to dislodge the idea that colonialism is something that is immutable and inevitable.)

To quickly summarize Aimee's point/follow up question, she pointed out that the way Ruidians have engaged with, repurposed, and were resentful towards Exandrian cultures mirrors some of the real life experiences of colonized/marginalized communities in relation to colonialism. It was such a powerful comparison to make because in a lot of ways, the struggle of the Ruidian people over the course of the campaign along with the looming question about the gods and whether or not to save them is (intentional or not) deeply resonant with the idea of colonialism and the ways it is deeply ingrained in the even mundane aspects of our life.

In a lot of ways, the Exandrian pantheon can be seen as a colonial force. One that came in and displaced a preexisting order of things and entrenched itself in the new way of being it established. Ashton and Laudna have repeatedly pointed this out throughout the campaign. There was life and existence before the gods. The gods are merely a different mode of being, not the only and inevitable mode of being. Life, society, and being can and did exist without them.

And its important to recognize that aspect of the gods, because it helps us understand their motivations that much better. Aabria in her description of what Opal saw in the Spider Queen as she tried to take Opal as her champion was poignant. Opal did not see an omniscient, unknowable entity. She saw a woman. A woman who was frustrated, angry, and most importantly frightened. They keep Predathos chained away not to protect life on Exandria nor because they feel a moral obligation to do so. They are doing so because they are afraid. Their mortality is at stake. And, as Aabria keenly pointed out, their pride is as well. Every action, every move is out of self preservation. An attempt to save themselves because Predathos demonstrate that not even the gods are a permanent thing.

You'll find (as Anne Stoler writes about frequently) that colonial systems are much the same. They are vehemently intent on self preservation. Any action they undertake and any narrative they create about themselves is solely done to preserve the way things are currently. And that includes narratives that the way things are currently is somehow inevitable. That things were always coming to this moment. Often, this is done at the expense of framing other modes of being as somehow antithetical to the way things are now. That it needs to be this way. And that this way is right and forever.

To me, its important to recognize these parallels. While Ruidians may engage with, adapt, and innovate off of Exandrian ideas, culture, and art, it is only because - as Aimee aptly phrased it - Exandrian culture as a direct result of the gods actions has "sucked all the air out" everything. What is there to engage with, if not the looming orb in the sky that has shaped every aspect of their existence?

It really brings the campaign-wide question of "should we save the gods?" into new light, at least in my opinion. Because its suddenly not about "saving the gods in a morally righteous act to preserve all life." It becomes a layered and complicated network of issues that makes the answer to that question incredibly difficult to answer. Is preserving the status quo because its how things operate now worth it at the expense of the suffering of others? What would saving the gods and the Ruidians look like? Is it even possible to save both? What changes to how things operate would be a result of that? How would those changes be handled?

I bring this up because there is a tendency in some discourse that I've seen to frame questioning the validity of saving the gods as inherently the "wrong" choice to make. When instead, when you see the cast struggling over the question, its because the answer is not straight forward. The gods are not necessary for life. They never were. They just are necessary for life the way things are now. And the question of what disrupting that means is such a fascinating one to engage with.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I think it's super important to call out racist tropes in fanon, but I also think it's important to help provide a bit of education so other creators know how to avoid these tropes and what to do instead.

With that in mind, one of the most common things that us fans of color have been pointing out in the OFMD fandom is racist depiction of Ed's hair, so here's an intro to avoiding some of these harmful tropes and what you can do instead.

Why does Ed's hair matter so much?

For people of color like Ed, our hair isn't just hair. Our hair is also about our culture and self-expression, and taking care of our hair is a skill distinct from caring for White hair. Our hair is an expression of personal and communal identity.

Controlling and stigmatizing hairstyles is an important way that people of color have been and continue to be oppressed. Across the history of European colonization, you'll find countless stories of cruelties such as forced haircuts, and this legacy lives on today when kids of color are told they have to change their natural and cultural hairstyles to meet school dress codes. Depiction of hair matters so much because of this history.

What are some things to avoid?

Common racist depictions of Ed's hair that you will want to avoid include:

Depicting Ed's hair as dirty and unclean when he's always shown to have very neat, well-taken-care-of hair in the show

Implying that he does not know how to care for his hair

Implying that he needs a White man to help him take care of his hair (White guys are not going to know how to care for Ed's hair texture!)

Depicting him using items that aren't meant for haircare on his hair (like forks, broken tools, etc.). Ed surely knows what a hairbrush is and how to use one.

Implying that Ed does not have a hair care routine or care much about his personal hygeine. You do not get to have that much beautiful, well-groomed hair without caring about maintaining it.

Implications that Ed is unusually rough/thoughtless about his hair, such as cutting off tangled sections or leaving knots to get worse

Avoid language that implies Ed's hair is unusually unruly and unkempt, such as describing it as "matted." Personally, I even bristle hearing it described as a "mane" or "wild" because it's always very neatly-groomed.

What are some ways to talk about Ed's hair that are okay?

I recommend writers and artists considering a project involving Ed's hair do some research on their own - browsing natural hair care subreddits is a pretty easy way to learn quickly what goes into caring for our hair and some of the common everyday struggles we might have.

You don't need to depict Ed's hair as perfect all the time! On lazy days where he doesn't style his hair, he might have frizz going on, and he might be frustrated by the effort and time it takes to maintain his hair while they're on the ocean and the salt air is constantly wreaking havoc.

It's also okay to write about Stede helping Ed with his hair. Stede will need to learn how to work with Ed's hair, but there's nothing wrong with scenes where Stede helps Ed with putting his hair up into a fancy style or washes it for him just because they both want to spend time together. The issue arises when you have implications that Ed needs that help and isn't capable of caring for his hair on his own.

What are some ideas for scenes involving Ed's hair care and routines?

There are so many wonderful scenes you can write about Ed's hair care routines! They can add dimension to domestic moments and make Ed's life feel more real. Here are some ideas I love.

Stede being excited to find new hair products at the market he knows Ed will love

The men of color on the Revenge having self-care nights to help each other care for their hair and skin

Ed patiently teaching Stede about how to care for his hair and trusting him to help him wash it

Ed having fun after settling down at their inn with experimenting with fun floral scents in his hair products

Ed teaching Stede how to put his hair in an elaborate, fancy style passed down from his mother

Stede carefully writing down Ed's hair care routine, from how he likes to rinse his hair with cool freshwater after a swim in the ocean to how he uses coconut oil to minimize frizz, and Ed being touched by his obvious care

In the show, Ed's hair looks amazing even at his lowest moments, so you could make art of him finding comfort in his hair even in the darkest times

There's so much you can do! I'd love seeing the balance of fics about Ed's hair shift towards mostly loving, thoughtful, non-racist depictions, so let's make that happen!

[shadowed-dancer]

Villains and Their Fates - A Tragedy Would Have Been Fine By Me

I've seen a lot of people who try to write off frustration with the league's fates by saying "you just wanted them to survive" or "you're just upset your favourite character died". And while that may be true for a few people, I know that it's at least not true for myself (which must mean there are others who feel the same way). So today I'm here to share my thoughts. Despite liking the villains and wanting them to be redeemed, I was also willing to accept a well written ending if they died. I just wanted to ramble a bit about the three main villains (mostly Toga) and how I felt a tragic ending could have been improved.

The only villain I felt should have lived is Dabi, but that's more because of the awkwardness his unconfirmed death caused for Shoto (read this beautifully written analysis for more). If Dabi had to die, he should have died on the battle field OR in the hospital surrounded by family where he gets a few last words in. Leaving his fate unconfirmed leads to the ruined Shoto arc, but is also just weird for a character who has existed for so long. You're telling me that even Overhaul gets a confirmed ending but DABI doesn't?

I've also talked a bit about how Endeavor's survival ruins the subplot, and in 426 he continues by making Touya's final appearance about him (rather than the two brothers) but that's something I've talked about too much. If Endeavor has to be alive and hogging screen time, the least Hori could do is imply Touya will survive rather than die, so at least Enji isn't literally stealing time from his other family members to have some interaction with Touya.

If Touya has to end up in that machine, an ideal ending would have been the doctor saying "it will be a gruelling and near-impossible uphill climb to recovery" and then Shoto can smile and say "he's done it before". Boom. Simple as that. Leave it open, but at least on a positive note so we can assume that the family will have plenty of time to reconcile, as opposed to an unknown (but limited) amount of time that Enji vows to use to talk to him (yeah I know it's supposed to be a sweet gesture but even Touya calls bullshit on it). Let Shoto and Touya eat their soba, damn it!

For Shigaraki, my grievances extend to the writing of the entire final battle between him and Deku. As such, I don't have much to say aside from that because it really is just a product of poor writing. Neither were really allowed to talk before the big moment (hell, the vestiges were narrating Deku's emotions half the time like "he must be upset, this quirk meant so much to him". Why not let him tell us???) and the back-and-forth of Shigaraki being destroyed and then not only to be destroyed again was too much. It felt sloppy and hard to follow, and once you figured it out it just felt dumb. It's as if each chapter needed some massive reveal, but the story had done it so much at this point that it just felt tired and like it was happening "because Hori said so", and that should never be what drives a story.

Speaking of "because Hori said so"...

Oh Toga. Out of all the villains, I actually liked her confrontation the most. (Lies. If Dabi vs Shoto was the end of Dabi's fight, THAT would have been the best. But the Endeavor fight ruins it). Despite having limited screen time, Toga and Uraraka had a surprisingly well-built dynamic. Their few interactions were actually meaningful and created a strong foundation for a fight, and at the very least they had more of a personal connection than Deku and Shigaraki ever did. I think that Toga giving her blood to someone she loves (as opposed to drinking/taking their blood like she had said the whole series) is a beautifully tragic end to her character, but still something that could have fit.

To me, the problem comes with how she died. Let me replay the scene for you: Toga stabs Uraraka in the stomach and Uraraka bleeds too much because she keeps moving around. Toga then realizes she doesn't want Uraraka to die. To save her life, Toga has to do a blood transfusion with herself as a donor and she dies because she has to give ALL her blood.

Now... sure. Ok. Fine. Yeah. Maybe by real-world logic this makes sense. I guess. Whatever. But within the world of MHA, this setup is laughable.

Here's a list of things characters survived (or at least, they survived LONG ENOUGH to get to a hospital rather than dying on the battlefield): Deku shattering his bones with 1 million percent, whatever happened to Best Jeanist when AFO attacked him, Nighteye getting a massive spike through the torso, All Might with "his entrails strewn across the ground", Bakugo becoming Swiss cheese, Grand Torino being punched so hard a crater forms beneath him, Touya being a literal flaming skeleton, Bakugo's heart exploding, Edgeshot becoming a worm. Mirko getting a limb ripped off and then running full speed at Shigaraki. That's just off the top of my head, I know there's probably more.

But you want to tell me that Uraraka getting stabbed and then moving was a fatal wound that required ALL TOGA'S BLOOD? ALL OF IT? The reason Toga's death bothers me is that the setup cheapens the actual moment of sacrifice. It feels preventable, so when she tells us that Uraraka is going to die without her blood, all I could do is roll my eyes because I'm not allowed to use critical thinking skills, I have to just accept what Hori says and take it at face value.

If the author wants you to live as Edgeworm despite saying you were gonna die, you can. But if the author needs a stab wound to be fatal and require ALL of someone's blood? Well tough luck bud, that's just how it goes. Mirko can run and move all she wants after having a limb ripped off, but moving a bit after one stab wound is fatal. Why? Because I say so.

If Uraraka's wound was actually serious then this ending would have been a beautiful tragedy. But as it stands now, the ridiculousness of her wound makes it all feel preventable.

Oh, there's also the fact that Toga switching blood types when she transforms was never established, but I've rambled enough.

That's it. Thanks for reading!

[zeroeightzeroone]

Hiyaa,

I have a request?

Producer!Bang chan x reader

Established relationship

Angst/comfort

Bang chan is in a bad mood so when he's at the studio he shouts at a co-worker he's close to/ 3racha member.

The co-worker/3racha member leaves and bumps into reader (who was already on the way to the studio? Because they haven't spent time together in a while?) and like hints at chan's bad mood.

Reader enters studio and chan starts to get mad but like reader is like "can I sit on your lap?" and he's like ❔ and she's like "you can continue working, can I sit on your lap?" and he's like "... Yeah?". Then it's fluff fluff fluff because fluff is the best 💯💯🚫🧢. Like a lot of fluff.

Oh also can you work in the reader saying something along the lines of "I get your frustrated but can you please not speak to me like that?" 🥺

And like chan gets more at peace/ relaxed/ less frustrated and apologies to coworker/ member and yeah and they all live happily ever after

creative differences - bang chan

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff/soft (eventually)

pairings: idol/producer!bang chan x fem!reader

warnings: chan is snappy, use of profanity

notes: thank you so much for your request <3 i hope i did it justice. this may also be the longest fic i've posted on this account with a little over 4.3k words

wc ~4.3 | moodboard

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:

since their debut, the company had already set expectations that the boys would have at least two comebacks a year–one in the first half of the year and another in the latter half. if they wanted to have more than two, they could, but two was the absolute least. the first comeback of this year for the boys went off without a hitch, resulting in topping multiple charts and receiving a handful of music show wins. however, the process for this second comeback of the year was already off to a rocky start, and the road ahead only looks winding and increasingly difficult.

the boys of 3racha have been in the studio every day for the past couple of weeks brainstorming and trying to put things together for the upcoming release. but they all seem to be hitting walls, or the ideas clash due to the amount of stress and pressures looming over their heads. so many people are counting on them–the members, producers, choreographers, and the jyp entertainment team, stay. and as the days in the studio pass, with the boys not agreeing on songs, arrangements, mixing, and more, the weight on their shoulders increases as well.

bang chan, the leader of stray kids and 3racha, felt the pressures even more so than changbin and han did.

currently, the three boys find themselves in chan's room inside the jyp entertainment building; chan is seated on the rolling chair in front of the multiple screens and mixing boards, while changbin and han are seated on either end of the couch. the three of them with their phones, laptops and notebooks opened up as they continue to brainstorm and discuss. but much like weeks prior, the progress isn't progressing, the progress is lacking or non-existent.

letting a deep sigh slip past his lips, han's eyebrows furrow in frustration as he scratches over old bullet points and writes new ones in his notebook, looking for ideas that could work. changbin is scrolling through his notes app and audio recording app, intermittently bringing the speakers at the bottom of his phone closer to his ear to hear the audio better as it's turned down to not disturb the other two, changbin tapping his fingers on his knee as he listens with his lip pursed in a tight line. chan is doing a mix of what the two are doing; writing and scratching out old and new ideas in his notebook, scrolling through his notes and audio recording apps to find something that they could work with, as well as filing through the production hardware on the system to find any drafts that could also be used to at the least, spark some inspiration.

at one point, chan feels like he's going to tug his hair out by the roots as he runs his fingers through his locks haphazardly. he's reaching the end of his patience; they've been working for weeks, and they can't even find a starting place for the comeback–he feels as if all the old material he finds in the apps aren't good enough, that they won't exceed the expectations or hype of the last comeback, that it won't even reach those expectations. it's frustrating chan to no end as he feels like he's reaching a dead end.

with a sigh, chan turns in his chair to discuss with han and changbin who are on the couch. when changbin notices this, he glances at han from the corner of his eye, surveys the atmosphere, and runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

"we need to figure something out," chan splutters out, his mind quite frantic, "we have to have some ideas–at least something?"

he looks between changbin and han on the couch, their faces look just as discontented and their minds are frantic but blank at the same time–mirroring chan's own face and mind. chan shuts his eyes in an attempt to calm down his bubbling emotions as he leans back into his chair.

"we could look through the demos again?" han throws a suggestion onto the table.

"which ones?" changbin questions.

han shrugs while at the same time he says, "all of them?"

"why would we look through demos we already vetoed?" chan scoffs, "that would be a complete waste of time."

"it's just a suggestion," han restates, this time his tone laced with hints of irritation, "maybe one of those vetoed demos could actually work; we just need to rework it."

"this isn't the first time we've gone through the demos in the past couple of weeks," chan reminds, "if one of those demos could actually work, we would've found it on the first or second round of looking."

"what demos are you thinking of specifically?" changbin asks han, who shrugs.

"i don't know, but what harm is there to look again?"

chan groans in agitation, not understanding why han is so adamant about looking through the demos again: "this would probably be the fourth time–why waste our time with a fifth? we want to make progress, looking for a fifth time is a complete waste of time."

the older boy's tone is sharp, prompting an eye roll from the youngest in the room, his arms going up in protest: " hey. it was just a suggestion–at least something to get the ball rolling." he reiterates chan's words from the beginning of the conversation.

"how is doing something that hasn't worked the past four times for a fifth going to work? if it didn't work a majority, if not, all the past times–it's not going to work," the tension in the room continues to build.

"wouldn't it be better to start from scratch instead of looking through ideas that we already decided weren't working?" changbin chimes in.

at this, han starts to feel like the two older boys are ganging up against him, and he defends himself quickly, "once again, it was just a suggestion. i don't see either of you suggesting anything."

changbin scoffs, "did I not just suggest starting from scratch instead of looking through rejected ideas?"

han turns his head to face changbin on the other end of the couch, "haven't we also been trying to start from scratch these past couple of weeks? that also hasn't been working–if it did, we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

"how are we supposed to start from scratch if we have no ideas?" chan asks in a matter-of-fact tone.

"if we look through the old demos, put some together or play around, then maybe we can find ideas," han speaks slowly as if he's trying to enunciate his point to drill it into the other two's heads, "it's better than sitting at our notebooks and laptops and writing down, absolutely nothing."

han's method of slowing down and enunciating seems to have gone through changbin's head as he begins to see han's point. if they can't conjure something up from nothing, they might as well try to conjure something up from their old demos or many recordings of melodies that have come to mind in the past. putting things together could trigger some inspiration.

"no, i think han has a point here," changbin states, "if we have no foundation or starting point, we can't build anything on top of it. at least with the old demos, we can continue to build off of what we have."

a deep breath expels from chan's lips as he listens to both han and changbin bounce words of agreement off each other for this working with old demos plan.

"again," chan says slowly, "if it didn't work the past four times, why would it work now? the odds are not in your favour."

"but there's still a chance it could work," han argues, "if there's a chance, why not take it?"

chan tongues at his cheek, "because we have a deadline. we can't keep grasping at straws that are obviously not working."

"starting from scratch and coming up with absolutely nothing is also not going to help us meet the deadline."

"so you want to create an album of demos we've rejected? you want to release a subpar album?" chan taunts.

"that's not what i'm saying," han shakes his head.

"that's what i'm hearing!"

"look, hyung," changbin steps in, "just listen to us for a second."

"i'm listening," chan snaps, "and i disagree. we have a standard to reach, one to exceed. i'll be damned if we release something below that."

"why the hell would we release something below standard?" changbin scoffs, running his hands through his hair and over his face in exasperation. letting his hands linger on his face as he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

the youngest in the room snaps at chan, "the fuck? is this you saying you lack faith in our producing skills? that we can't rework old demos to produce something that not only hits that standard but exceeds it?"

the sharp change in han's tone and volume alerts changbin, who realizes this conversation–well now it's an argument–is getting out of hand. chan and han are practically at each others throats and they're both too headstrong but stubborn at the same time, neither of them will back down. obviously, avoiding conversation wasn't going to get them anywhere, but at this point, where emotions are high, and egos are even higher, no meaningful or productive conversation regarding the album will be shared. changbin realizes he needs to jump into action to diffuse the situation before it becomes a screaming match between the two heated bandmates.

"i'm saying we have a standard, we have expectations to uphold," chan speaks slowly, his voice deeper as he's practically sneering at han, "one that the company has for us, stay, everyone."

han snarls back, eyes throwing daggers in chan's direction, "i know that. i know that damn fucking well. i'm out here trying to innovate some sort of progress toward this album, progress that we have been severely lacking for the past couple of weeks. other than rejecting our ideas, what the hell have you been doing?" he raises his chin at the older boy in a provoking manner.

"han–" changbin starts but is quickly cut off by chan.

"what the hell have i been doing?" chan spits out the question, han nods, "i've been making sure all our releases since debut continue to surpass these standards–this upcoming album is no different. don't come into my studio questioning what the fuck i've been doing."

"hyung–" changbin tries again to no avail.

"maybe you should leave," chan hisses, and changbin's eyes widen, darting between the two other boys in the studio with fires in their eyes, "and come back when you have suggestions that aren't going to waste my fucking time."

"look, guys. hannie, channie hyung–" changbin is cut off again when han rises to his feet, jaw clenched as he stares down chan in front of him, eyes narrowed.

"fine. i'll leave," he declares, "this is a waste of my time. i'll come back when you've got your head out of your fucking ass and you're open to listening to anyone other than yourself."

chan spins back around in his chair, eyes rolling back in anger as he clenches his fists on the table. behind him, han is quickly packing up his laptop and notebook as changbin gulps, wracking his brain to think of who to attend to right now. when han stomps to the studio door, swinging it open and stomping out into the hall of the company building. changbin is quick to follow after him, leaving everything but his phone, keys and wallet in his pocket the whole time as he follows after han, shutting the door behind them, leaving chan to his own thoughts alone. he chooses to follow the younger boy to try to calm him down and ensure he's safe wherever he plans to run off to.

meanwhile, you're a couple moments away from the elevator reaching the same floor the three boys are on. your hands clasped in front of you as you keep an eye on the digital sign that changes with each floor, rocking back and forth on your heels to pass the time. you haven't seen your boyfriend in quite a while due to your conflicting schedules, work and life getting in the way of a relationship, but you were grateful for those moments in between the chaos where it was just steady love and happiness. you learned to cherish those small moments instead of grovelling over how much time you can't spend with your boyfriend–obviously you get sad once in a while when you're away from him but choose not to dwell on it. thankfully, tonight is one of those nights where you can spend your time in the comfort of your boyfriend's presence. but he has no idea that you were even planning on coming to the company building, he has no idea of this little surprise you've organized.

when the elevator dings, stopping at your floor, you exit quickly but you make your way down the hallway slowly. your head moving from left to right as you read the numbers on each door, ensuring you landed on the correct floor and were going in the right direction. when you hear footsteps and your eyes dart to changbin and han walking down the hall in your direction, a wave of relief washes over you until you catch a glimpse of the concern on changbin's face and the anger on han's. they notice you walking towards them belatedly, almost running into you, but you catch their attention before any collision.

"hey guys," you greet softly, concern written on your features at the sight of the two boys. eyes looking between changbin whose eyes are drooped with worry and han, who you can feel the anger radiating off of, "what's going on?"

they both exchange small greetings with you. given han's current state, his greetings are shorter and more reserved. his mouth shut and jaw clenched again once he's greeted you.

"creative differences," changbin says to which han scoffs, rolling his eyes, "ok well, that's how it started, but long story short, we got into an argument, and hannie walked out."

"we?"

changbin nods, "yeah, hannie, chan hyung and i."

your lips purse in a tight line when the second name rolls off changbin's tongue: "if you don't mind, could you explain what happened?"

not wanting to get into too much detail as changbin doesn't want further rile up the already upset han, he gives you a quick run down of the main points of the argument between the 3racha boys–mainly chan and han. you keep your mouth shut the whole time and nod, listening intently to changbin explain while han stands with his arms crossed over his chest, a prominent pout on his lips and his eyebrows knit together.

"you're on your way to see, channie hyung?" changbin asks for clarification and you nod, "okay, obviously after what i told you, he's in a really bad mood right now so proceed with caution. angry chan is scary chan."

you thank changbin for letting you know what happened from their perspective, bidding short goodbyes to both the boys as han and changbin decide to make their way back to the dorms. han needs some time to unwind and collect his thoughts after the spat with chan. you continue to walk down the hall, turning a corner and finding the room number that felix sent you earlier–103.

you knock on the door softly but hear nothing from the inside; you knock once again and hear nothing. you sigh and decide to turn the knob, letting yourself in.

chan heard the knocks; the first one sparked his annoyance, and the second continued to heighten it. the sound of the door being opened caused him to bark at whoever decided to come in when, through his silence, he clearly didn't grant the permission to.

"what the hell?" he mutters to himself before he barks out, turning in his chair, "complete silence after knocking is not an invitation to come in, fuckin–"

when chan fully turns in his chair to face the direction of the door, the words get caught in his throat at the sight of you. he assumed it might have been changbin, han or a staff member, but seeing you standing there took him by complete shock. you shut the door behind you and give chan a small wave that he reciprocates hesitantly, still trying to let it sink in that you're actually in the room with him and that he isn't hallucinating due to how long it's been since the last time he's seen his girlfriend in person. you move to sit on the couch that was once occupied by the two other 3racha members; now, one side is occupied by changbin's laptop and notebook while you sit on the opposite end. chan turns his chair, following your every move.

when you sit down, take the pillow and place it on your lap, you smile up at chan again, "hi."

"hey baby," chan speaks slowly, "what are you doing here?"

you hum before answering, "well, we haven't been able to see each other in a while cos of our schedules but some time opened up for me today, so i wanted to pay you a surprise visit."

chan feels his heart warm at the gesture, but he's still quite irritated and agitated from the argument with han and changbin. the lack of progress for the upcoming album, along with the plethora of expectations looming over his head and his patience begins to dwindle again.

"that's nice, but i don't really have time for this right now," chan's tone is stern, his voice deep in warning, "i've got so much shit to do for this upcoming album, and nothing is fucking–"

"can I sit on your lap?" you ask, cutting chan off and causing him to furrow his eyebrows together in a mix of confusion and irritation–irritated that you had cut him off but confused about whether he had heard you right.

"what?" he deadpans, blinking at you.

"can I sit on your lap?" you repeat, and now he knows he definitely didn't hear things.

"did you not hear what i said?" chan holds back from snarling at you in frustration. "nothing is done for the album, and i don't have time to take a break."

you nod, hearing his words but adding, "you can continue working. i just want to sit on your lap while you do."

chan opens his mouth to refuse, but his eyes lock with yours–your shiny, beautiful eyes with a perfect array of colours decorating the irises, gazing up at him with a splash of hope in the depths of love in your eyes. that's when his mouth snaps shut again, probably looking like a fish when it opens again, but this time he says:

"yeah? sure."

the bright smile that stretches on your face feels like a reward to chan. you make your way over, placing yourself on his lap while facing him; thankfully, chan's chair is big enough for you to practically straddle him in a comfortable position. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and nuzzle yourself into his neck.

"you can go back to work now," you say, your voice muffled from the pressure of your lips against his skin.

chan can't help the lopsided smile that makes its way to his lips. he also can't help the way his whole body seems to relax with your touch; the longer he feels the warmth radiating off your body onto his, the more he feels the tension in his muscles deteriorating slowly. the feeling of your body pressed against his, his arms outstretched to continue typing or writing in his notebook, feels comforting.

moments pass when chan's room is quiet, and the occasional noise of chan typing on the keyboard, picking up or placing his pencil down to scratch down who knows what in his notebook. at the same time, you're still perched on his lap, your arms comfortably draped around him, and your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

chan isn't sure if the arguing with han and changbin or if the feeling of you in his arms sparked some ideas to come out of him and onto paper, but he would like to say both. despite the heated atmosphere and half-hearted words thrown around, he doesn't want to feel like that argument was completely unnecessary and a waste of time; instead, he wants to see it as a bump in the road that shows him how he can continue to improve as a friend, producer, bandmate and a person as a whole.

meanwhile, you're thinking about how comfortable you feel in the position your in right now, and how you could probably fall asleep at this moment. sure, maybe your back will hurt when you wake up, but right now, you feel your whole body relax in your boyfriend's arms. a couple moments later, your eyes are half open and you felt yourself falling asleep, but you jump a little in shock when you feel both of chan's hands sprawled on your back. his hands rub your back gently and comfortingly before he circles his arms around your body and pulls you closer. a deep sigh escaping his lips as he holds you, his eyes falling shut for a few seconds. chan turns his head, kissing the side of your head on your hair.

"thank you," he whispers, placing another gentle kiss as his hands rub circles on your back again.

you respond in a small, quiet and slightly sleepy voice, "for what?"

chan shrugs, "for this. being here."

you nod, pausing for a moment before you say, "i ran into changbin and han in the hall."

you feel your boyfriend tense up in your arms. you begin to reciprocate his comforting action as you trace circles on his back with the pads of your thumbs, his muscles relaxing under your gentle caresses. you continue to speak in a soft, timid manner that only chan can hear since your lips are so close to his ear.

"i know you're under a lot of stress and pressure preparing for the album," you begin, "i get that you're frustrated, but can you please not speak to me like that?"

the man feels his heart drop listening to your words. his mind rewinds back to when he heard the door opening, and how his first instinct was to bark and scold whoever came into the studio uninvited. chan remembers how you blinked and gave him a small smile, trying to hide your surprise, but it was evident in how your eyes widened the slightest bit for a split second before returning to normal.

you and chan sit in silence; he's dwelling on your words while you're still tracing circles into his back with your thumbs. chan wants to say that he didn't know you were the one coming into the studio, to use that as a defence, but he knows how weak that is–that regardless of who came into the room, he shouldn't have let his frustrations blow over, flipping out and greeting them by raising his voice. sure, his emotions were high, which is a factor in how he acted earlier, but he can't use that as an excuse to get away with snapping at people who have nothing to do with what he's emotional about.

you feel chan nod, and he says softly, "i'm sorry." you go to say that it's okay, but chan interrupts, "it's not, though. even if i didn't mean to speak to you that way, i still need to figure out how to regulate and control my emotions."

"you're human," you say, "when emotions are high, it's hard to find a way to keep them under control all the time. but the fact that you recognize your mistake–that's a lot more than many people can say."

chan pulls you even closer against him, if it's even possible, "i'll try my best though. i'll speak to you at a normal volume, respectfully and saying sweet things. that's what my girl deserves."

your cheeks heat up at the way chan calls you 'his girl'.

"thank you," chan repeats.

this time, you pull away, sitting up straight to look at chan's face, your eyes meeting his soft ones. his hands rub up and down your sides slowly, a slight smile on his lips. you cock your head in confusion, "for what?"

"you always know the right thing to say," chan moves one of his hands up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, keeping his hand on your cheek gently and the pad of his thumb swiping over the skin, "i love you."

you're blushing even harder now, "i love you too."

chan uses the hand on your cheek to guide your face so your lips meet his halfway for a sweet kiss. after quite a while, a smile breaks out on your face at the feeling of his soft pink and plump lips against yours. your hands move to hold either side of his neck, and the two of you spend the next couple of moments sharing tender kisses and giggles in between.

in the midst of all of the kisses, you and chan are gazing down at each other when he brushes your hair away again. this time, he opens his mouth to speak with flushed cheeks, "i'm starting to think han and his suggestions were right; it'll be better to build on something we already have and improve on it than to force ourselves to start from scratch and continue to hit a dead end."

you brush chan's hair out of his forehead, and he continues.

"my head was too far up my ass to consider his suggestion," chan purses his lips together, and his eyes flash with regret as he recalls the words thrown around between him and the younger producer earlier. chan lets himself linger in his head again before voicing his concerns, "do you think they'll forgive me?"

you nod.

"really? you're not just saying that?"

you nod again, and this time, you explain, "as long as you can identify and acknowledge where you went wrong and what you did wrong, and sincerely and genuinely apologize–which i know you feel sincerely and genuinely apologetic for–i believe they'll forgive you."

chan's eyelids flutter quickly as he thinks, nodding as he fully processes your words. still, a wave of nervousness washes over him at the possibility that han and changbin won't forgive him.

"they're your brothers," you snap him out of his thoughts, "brothers fight, but at the end of the day, they still love each other."

main masterlist

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

A lot of things that seemed weird to me about the current culture of reading and writing became more clear to me when I realized that an awful lot of people are perceiving both reading and writing as tools to get at the thing they actually want, which is a good story. That's why they think it makes sense to read by skimming past dense text and only focusing on dialogue -- that's a "hack" that will get you access to The Story in a mostly comprehensible form, so why not save yourself time and work? It's why people set up speed-reading challenges, because why not consume ten stories instead of five -- that's more! And it's why people, or this type of person anyway, are excited about AI tools that outsource the labor of turning an idea (the concept of a plan, if you will...) into A Story. A Story is the goal for these people, on either the production or consumption end. Generate story, transmit story to audience, rinse, repeat. Whatever makes that process easier, more efficient, and yeah, more accessible is definitionally an improvement.

I don't think people who are this kind of reader or writer (it just took everything I had not to put "reader" and "writer" in quotation marks -- I'm really trying to be fair-minded here!) actually understand the experience the rest of us are having with reading and writing. Taking in a good story can be -- I'd say usually is -- *part* of that experience, but we're also engaging with text in other ways at the same time. We're mining it for types of meaning that extend beyond the story (all those dreaded Themes and Symbols that your mean English teacher banged on about!) We're reading those long paragraphs for the artistry of them, for the musicality, for aesthetic pleasure. We're investigating not just *what happens in the story,* but who the storyteller is and what they're revealing to us about the way they perceive the world.

When we get frustrated about people "not reading it right," we're probably being obnoxious busybodies (you can, in fact, do whatever you want forever!), but we're not doing it because of the joy we get from looking down on other people. It's more like we're watching people be served a delicious roast chicken, and then cut a couple strips of skinless breast meat off the bird, throw the rest of it in the trash, and talk about how they're such foodies. You didn't even eat it! You barely touched the thing! There's so much waste. And it's even more appalling when the chef throws most of the dish out before it even leaves the kitchen.

So obviously I'm not framing this very neutrally, but like, it *has* all become a little easier to process in my head now that I understand what kind of meat the Booktok types are actually hungry for.

[willowworkswithwords]

Steve receives love the way he gives it and doesn’t know what to do with himself.

so i was going through my drafts folder because i'm thinking it's time to dip my foot back into the fic writing pool, and I found this collection of snippets and ideas that all stemmed from this post from @rogueddie. I thought about maybe elaborating on some of these, but I also wanted to share because I really enjoyed this idea. I also think I may have posted about this a long while back, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't the whole thing.

-Future -> uses a pen like a sorta-stylus to hit each of his computer keys sometimes. Eddie figures out it’s because the keys don’t have enough physical separation between them (they’re so shallow) and it sometimes messes with his eyes [is this a feasible vision issue he might have??] so Eddie buys him an “old fashioned” keyboard with the big keys, one of the big colorful trendy ones.

-Eddie and Wayne keep the foods he like, foods he’ll always eat no matter what. Eddie notices that he’ll never ask for any special foods when Wayne makes the grocery list (when he moves in with them) so he starts being sneaky and goes on a recon mission a.k.a. asking Robin, Nancy, and the kids what he likes. Since Steve also loves to cook, Eddie looks through his cookbooks and recipe box and finds the ones with notes on them and him and Wayne practice how to make them

“Hey Wayne?”

“Yeah?” Wayne calls from the couch, beer in hand and the game on.

Steve steps out from the kitchen, box of tea in hand.

“Where’d this come from?”

Wayne doesn’t turn around.

“What is it?”

“Uh, the tea?”

“Picked that up for you the other day, since you were saying you like it better than coffee sometimes.”

“Yeah but… you and Eddie don’t like tea?”

He doesn’t know why he says it like a question.

Wayne tilts his head against the back of the couch, craning it to look at Steve in a way that’s so reminiscent of Eddie it makes Steve smile a little.

“You do, though.”

-Right before Steve moves in, when he’s an anxious mess because his parents are coming back but he doesn’t realize he’s anxious for that reason, he starts hiding little bits of his stuff in the trailer, mostly in Eddie’s room and around the kitchen. This puzzles Eddie but Wayne thinks it’s like Steve’s trying to expel his energy in a not-so-productive way, though there are worse ways. So, Wayne starts asking Steve to help more around the house, but especially with repairs bc they found out that Steve knew a lot about repair.

Steve’s been around a lot. Wayne sees his pile of folded bedding tucked behind the couch, and sometimes he sees the Beemer leaving the trailer park as he comes up the road from the plant. During daylight hours, when Steve comes by to help Eddie or brings the kids over or stays for dinner, he shows almost no signs of anything being wrong.

But Wayne is a combat veteran. It’s been a long time for him, but he hasn’t forgotten, and he never will. He knows his nephew went through war, and that Steve was right alongside him. From what Wayne has gathered, Steve had been in that war for a few years, and had been dealing with the ups-and-downs for two years before Eddie ever knew about it.

It hurts Wayne deeply, to see the children (because that’s what they are—as he and all his comrades had been) endure the aftermath. So he sees when Steve flinches, when he clenches his fists, when he holds his breath and makes himself breathe evenly.

Tonight is the least in-control he’s ever seen Steve.

He’s over for dinner again. All three of them are in the living room, a baseball game on, much to Eddie’s long-suffering sighs.

-Steve will make his opinion known about arbitrary stuff like movies and music, but if it’s been a Bad Day or a Bad Time, and he does, and Eddie reacts to it in a way Steve sees as criticism, he will then defer everything to Eddie to a frustrating degree. Eddie finds out that when it comes to their relationship, not any other relationship Steve has, Steve is extremely afraid of screwing it up so he thinks that means he should let Eddie call all the shots.

-Eddie memorizes Steve’s orders at restaurants

-Eddie sews Steve’s clothes without Steve ever realizing

The sun is just peaking through the windows of the trailer on a Thursday morning when Eddie gets to work. Steve, when exhausted, will sleep through just about anything, and the week had been a long one. Eddie had the opposite problem, finding little respite even curled around Steve. So, the early morning found him gathering up Steve’s clothes and taking them out to the front porch of the trailer.

Already out there on the side table was his sewing kit, spools of thread and thimbles neat and ready. Already out there on the couch was Wayne, sipping his morning post-work coffee and looking out over the misty park.

Without a word, Eddie settled onto his end of the couch, knees pulled up, and grabbed one of Steve’s jeans. There was a rip along the inseam, and Eddie took to it with steady persistence. After the jeans were shirts and three sweatshirts. Stitch after stitch after stitch, and soon Steve wasn’t left with a single hole in all his wardrobe.

“He still hasn’t figured it out yet?” Wayne asks, grinning into his coffee.

“Nope. I’ve almost convinced him of the existence of brownies.”

Wayne barks a laugh and Eddie smiles down at the last rip he’s fixing, laughing with his uncle. Steve has been with them for a month and is just now finally easing up, finally letting them both in—for the big and small. Noticing Steve get frustrated with all the holes in his clothes was the least Eddie could do for him, and if it warms him from the inside out when Steve excitedly rustles through his pile of clothes and realizes they’re all perfectly wearable, well. That was just a plus.

-Eddie compliments Steve on his personality and who he is more than what he does, because especially in the first couple years after Vecna, while both of their bodies are still healing, Steve feels a lot of guilt about not being able to do all the things he used to be able to do to the same degree. Even once he’s healed and starts being able to be physical like he used to, Eddie knows Steve equates his value with his service, and tries to help him realize that he is so much more.

[tevanbegins]

Wanted to share a little something for my fellow Tevan stans currently fed up with the rising flood of BoB toxicity on 911 abc's socials.

We can all see that post the release of the Tommy x Henren scene, the BoBs have gone totally rabid. Until the Tevan pride post, we were still managing to dominate the comments section with our positivity. But now all hell has broken loose.

I mean, it's upsetting and annoying to see but not shocking. They whined so much about the nonsensical karaoke scene which they never got to see, but the show released the bonus scene with Tommy right before the new season's production begins (and the writing has started weeks ago.) It's such a huge slap on their faces and somewhere in the back of their minds they know B*ddie is never happening, but they pretend to be in denial and now their strategy is to make sure that we Tevan stans don't get to gush over our canon ship without having to counter their nastiness. All because their fanon ship dreams are dying a painful death.

Do the BoBs and the B*ddies outnumber Bucktommies? On social media at least they do, we have to admit this. But I still hope that the writers don't indulge this bullying and harassment just because that fandom is a loud majority on socials. Their controversial opinions and insensible demands cannot be a deciding factor for shaping future storylines. There are many people who appreciate Buck and Tommy's storyline and feel represented by it, despite the little screen-time they've gotten. We cherish all the tiny crumbs we get and make the most out of it without threatening and harassing anyone for what we don't get. We daydream and make our headcanons but we don't tell the writers how to do their jobs. And that's the reason why we were blessed with the deleted Tommy-Henren clip.

Ultimately, the showrunner is answerable to the network studio mainly for the show's viewership and ratings, not the hue and cry about whether certain fandoms are enjoying the current storylines or not. And with the way these BoBs are getting crazier with their delusions, they will never stop watching the show even 50 seasons later with their eternal hopes for B*ddie going canon, so I believe viewership is never going to be an issue for Tim and ABC.

So I am pretty positive that as long as Tim is personally keen on developing Buck and Tommy's love story (and the network is supportive), irrespective of the BoBs' frustration and their vile flood of hate for Tommy and Tevan, he will continue writing as his creative vision sees fit. We shouldn't lose faith just because the haters have stepped up their game and are going above and beyond to make us lose it. We just have to stop engaging with them completely. The block button is the greatest boon — it's so much more satisfying to do it than bickering with the haters. Just continue spreading your love for Tommy and Buck, even if we seem a minority. Little drops make an ocean after all.

Not to forget, the timing of the Tommy and Henren clip being released is so important. They could have shared it with us during Pride but they didn't. They did it now. Which means that Tommy is definitely an important part of the storylines for season 8 even if it's in a supporting capacity. ABC wouldn't have released the clip so close to the premiere date announcement if Tommy was not returning. Tim Minear wouldn't be telling fans how old Tommy is and other stuff if he had no plans to write more for that character. So we have to ignore all the mad theories, gross misinterpretations, and wicked hopes of the BoBs and trust that better things are coming! 🙏🏽

[han1nn]

Old Memories

Frank Castle x male!reader

Warnings: scars all over body, self-hatred, swearing, self-harm, disabled!reader (missing arm), kissing, really bad injuries, (gore?)

Summary: Frank lives in your apartment, because he can’t buy one, he’s still a wanted criminal. Frank and you are best friends since the army. But things changed after Frank became the Punisher, he always try to get distance between the two of you. He doesn’t want to lose someone else that mean something to him. (He don’t want you to get into his „the punisher“ situations)

Then someday, Frank saw the scars all over your body and remembered the old times again, how much you mean to him, how many moments you guys shared, how you would‘ve give your life for Franks […].

Frank want to have a better look at your scars and the situation get out of control…

Type: angst, fluff

[use of y/n]

A/N: this story is so long in my mind I had to write it! Hopefully you guys will like my idea too. And English isn’t my first language so maybe I will have some mistakes in this fanfic. Also this is written in 2024 not in 2017 :)

| -> Before I start I wanted to say that my request are always open, don’t be shy and send me what comes in your mind! I will read and respond every message I see! 💌

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

21.05.2017, 18:46

y/n stand in the kitchen and cooked, he cooked dinner for him and Frank. Of course he made some finished products in the microwave, it’s very hard to cook with only one arm. As the dinner was finished he just made two plates and sat down, ready to eat. But y/n wanted to wait for his „best friend“ Frank. He sits on the couch and watches the news on the TV, for more information about criminals he could kill.

Frank didn’t really spoke with y/n, only if it’s important, he tried to take his distance from him. y/n blames himself, he hates himself and he thought this is all his fault. He thought Frank would hate him and thats because he take his distance and doesn’t talk to y/n anymore.

He still sit there and just stare on his dinner, waiting for his best friend, the only sounds y/n can hear is the quiet sound of the TV. He wanted to call Frank, he really wanted but he didn’t dare. y/n took his fork in his hand and took a bite of the dinner. He didn’t eat much, stood up and walking right into the living room where Frank sits on the couch. 

y/n didn’t dare to look at him and only said:

"I made dinner.."

his voice was quiet and low, he don’t want to come in a actual conversation with Frank because he’s scared, scared to make the situation between them even worse than it is.

Frank looked a few seconds on the TV, looked up and gave y/n a cold look. He stands up and just walked past over him. As this happened y/n heart skipped a beat. He can barely feel him even when he didn’t touched him.

y/n walked into his bedroom and slamming the door. The feelings of hate that had been in him now all came up again. He thought everything is his fault, he always asked himself what he should do to make the situation better between them. He asked himself what he done and why Frank kept ignoring him, why he isn’t the same person like in the army. He’s tired, tired of Frank and his feelings for him.

He missed the old Frank, the Frank who cared for him, who laughed with him, who was actually still his best friend..

Flashback: 04.10.2013, Afghanistan

"Let go of him! I will kill you, I will kill all of you, you little bastards!"

Frank screamed and yelled at the terrorist who tortured y/n and forced his best friend to watch. Frank was frustrated he didn’t know what to do, his best friends screams shall into his ears over and over again. Frank can’t do anything, he’s tied up into a chair and can’t move at all. He wished he could do something. The terrorist laughed at both of them and they found the whole situation is very amused

Before y/n got tortured, they had to decide who had to get tortured and who had to watch, it was like a sick game that those terrorists wanted to "play". Frank’s best friend immediately said that he wanted to be chosen, he literally begged to be tortured only to keep Frank save.

"Please! Please, pick me! Do whatever you want with me but don’t hurt him! Don’t hurt my comrade!"

Frank was in shock and wasn’t agree with it, but for the terrorist, the decision clear: y/n should get tortured and Frank had to watch.

It was disturbing and horrible to watch his friend get hurt like this. Frank was so frustrated that he almost started to cry. y/n‘s body was now full with wounds, some long, some thick, some bigger, some smaller, the only thing Frank‘s best friend knew, is that everything hurts. And if this wasn’t enough, they even cut his left arm off too. Frank can see is how y/n‘s eyes rolled back and he fainted because of the pain, seeing how his best friend fell on the ground. The terrorist laughed at him and one of them is stepping closer to Frank.

"Look at your friend, laying there almost dead! Now he isn’t so brave like he acted before, huh?"

The terrorists were mocking Frank who was still tied up on the chair. He had so much anger in him. He wished he could just do something.

Before they can start to hurt Frank, the army group was storming into the small room and shoot the terrorists. The group can see y/n laying exhausted and fainted on the floor, his body really looks like a mess.

It would definitely leave scars on his body

These injury’s on Frank’s best friend’s body are definitely very deep and dangerous. Frank didn’t know if he would survive this. It doesn’t seem like y/n would survive this. After one of his mates cut the rope that tied Frank up, he immediately crawled to y/n and held him in his arms. He can’t help but cry and screaming at the army group that they should bring y/n immediately to the army aid station.

After a while they brought the two friends into the army aid station. y/n was laying in coma for 3 days but he managed it and survived. Frank was sitting on a chair, next to y/n‘s sickbed, waiting for his best friend to finally wake up. 3 days in a row Frank was sitting there and waited for his best friend to wake up. After the days have passed by, y/n finally woke up and Frank was still sitting on that chair.

"Frank..?"

As Frank heard this, he raised his head and glanced over his best friend but then his face changed into frustration. He isn’t sure if he should be happy now that his best friend woke up, or if he should be angry because y/n had given his life for Franks. Of course Frank decided to be mad, his aggression always get the control over him. He started to yell at y/n, why he done this and why he would give his own life for Franks.

At these questions, y/n only smiled weakly as respond, he was to weak to speak now.

Present day: 19:12

y/n was lost in his thoughts, about the old times. The times where Frank seemed to care, where Frank was still really his best friend. He thought about those terrible things that the terrorists done to him and how many scars they left on his body. y/n is grabbed under his shirt and felt every scar on his body, over his stomach, his chest, his neck, his rips, everywhere.

He thought about how much Frank must hate this disgusting body of his best friend, how he must missed him as the brave and "normal" soldier. He felt like he isn’t enough to be Frank‘s best friend anymore.

His fingertips started to travel harder on his body. y/n hates this feeling, this feeling not to be enough. He felt all his scars on different spots on his body. He started to scratch all over them, he thought he deserved this, deserved to be punished because he isn’t good enough. He groaned in pain as his fingernails dogged into his scars, scratching them. he can feel how his scars started to bleed, how they turn into wounds again.

y/n groaned even more, almost too loud. He was just so frustrated and sad that he didn’t even noticed how loud he has been. y/n was just so insecure about his body and angry at himself that he isn’t enough for Frank.

The heavy footsteps of y/n‘s best friend are coming closer and closer, he want to know why such noises coming out of y/n‘s room. The door cracked open, as Frank’s cold gaze meet his best friend. His expression immediately changed into anger as he saw y/n huddled on the floor, crying and scratching his scars under his shirt.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

The Punisher immediately stumbled over to his best friend and grabbed his arm, hard, almost to hard to bare for y/n. He stopped y/n from hurting himself. Frank noticed how the scars were freshly opened by the own fingernails of his friend. y/n still lays on the floor and crying, now Frank, the person y/n loved, his best friend, saw what he’s doing to himself. He must be even more disgusted than before.

"Why would you do that?! Look at you! You hurt yourself so badly! I can’t see you like that! It reminds me too much of-"

Frank cut his own sentence as he noticed how emotional he became. His cold and angry expression returned. His grip on y/n‘s arm only tightened as Frank leaned forward his old comrade.

"Don’t ever do that again, you understand?! Fuck, look at your wounds! They’re bleeding! You just look like the day you got tortured! The day were you almost died! I can’t- I can’t see you like this!"

Frank Castle, yes, the punisher almost cried at the sight of his best friend, laying on the floor and scratching his own scars. Frank himself lays down beside y/n and wrapped his arms around him, very tightly, like he wanted to protect him.

"Why would you do that..? I can’t understand it. Why would you scratch the scars open that saved my life?"

The smaller man in Franks arms is responding the hug, he didn’t know what else to do. y/n was in the arms of his secret lover and he enjoyed it, he loved every second of it. Finally he got some attention.

"I- I know you hate me and.. that you think my body looks disgusting.."

Franks strong arms tightened around the smaller man as he heard those horrible words. Without a word the Punisher grabbed y/n‘s wrist and pushed himself on top of his best friend.

"I could never find you disgusting and I definitely don’t hate you! You’re the most strongest and bravest man I know. you sacrificed yourself for me and think I would take my distance because of your body?"

Frank was on top of y/n and held him down, so he can’t stand up anymore. The punishers grip was just too strong.

"You mean too much to me! The only reason why I pushed you away was to keep you save! I can’t believe you thought the whole time I was disgusted by you. Get these thoughts out of your head!"

Frank knew that y/n wouldn’t believe him, so he decided to lean down to his neck and stroke his hair.

"I.. I wanted to leave your apartment tonight, wanted to leave you to keep you save. I know that you’re probably aren’t save when I live here, but I also can’t leave you now, not when I see how much you‘re suffering. You know I’m still your best friend, right?"

The punisher mumbled into the neck of his best friend. His mouth was right against his ear, his breathing was heavy against y/n‘s neck. The smaller man under Frank was wrapping his one and only arm around him, wanting to hold him tight and never let him go.

"You really mean that?"

y/n asked with tears in his eyes as he sobbed uncontrollably. The punisher cursed under his breath, he just never noticed how much his best friend struggled as he pushed him away. He wanted to leave y/n completely tonight, just ran away and never coming back to keep him save.

Frank knew he had many enemys and he was afraid that something could happen to his best friend again. He was afraid that y/n could get hurt again just like in the army. Frank already failed keeping him save back then, how could he ever keep him save in New York? But the punisher also knew he couldn’t leave y/n now, not when he was crying under him.

"Of course I mean it."

Frank wasn’t really a man of words, he’s a man of actions. Words aren’t enough for him, he wanted to show his friend how much he meant to him, how beautiful he thought y/n is. The punisher had to show it somehow to his comrade, but how?

Frank‘s hand were leaving y/n‘s wrist and his hands wander down his shirt, ready to pull it up. He wants to see his friends body, to see all of him, just everything. The taller man looked down at the smaller one, searching for permission in the other ones eyes.

"Can I..?"

The punisher asked with his deep and hoarsely voice. His best friend under him was confused but nodded. y/n didn’t know what the taller man above him wants to do but he let him, he trusted him.

Frank pushed y/n‘s shirt up until he can see his whole chest. His eyes run over the whole body under him, taking in all the details. y/n‘s scars, his left shoulder where his other arm used to be, his masculine features, Franks eyes were drinking the sight under him. The punisher slowly put his hand on the stomach of his best friend. Y/n let out a gasp as he felt the warm hand on his belly, exploring the area there.

"W-what are you doing..?"

y/n asked breathless as the hand on his stomach touched and caressed the skin and scars there. Even both of Frank’s hands were working on the stomach of his best friend now, tracing the scars there, feeling how beautiful he is to him.

"Shh.. just relax. I just want to have a better look at you. Is that okay?"

y/n was confused but he gave Frank his permission by nodding at his question. The smaller man laying on the floor can’t help but enjoy his best friends big hands all over his stomach. It felt good and right. Even when he shouldn’t feel that way he still can’t help it.

Frank looked into y/n‘s eyes, seeing how much his best friend liked being touched. He was probably touch-starved. When was the last time y/n has been intimate with someone? He just can’t remember, but is this what these men are doing even intimate? It is, for y/n it is intimate and he believes that Frank thought the same. y/n is already flushed all over, his whole body had a pink tone because he felt so hot.

The bigger man above him noticed this and chuckled lowly.

"You enjoy this? Feels good, huh? My big hands on your beautiful body."

y/n blushed so hard at his words. He couldn’t believe that his best friend was saying this. Does he mean everything he says, y/n wonders but in Franks eyes he can only see pure admiration and honesty.

"Your body is a testament of what happened to you, of how strong you are and of how you saved my life. I could never hate you. I could never hate this body."

The punisher leaned closer and he slowly headed his way down to the chest of his old comrade.

"I‘m gonna kiss you all over, I‘m gonna show you how much you mean to me and how much I love this body. Is that alright with you?"

Open Ending

(idk if I should continue but please read it, give me feedback and tell me if I should continue!💓)

——————————————————————————

I worked so long on this fanfic and I don’t even know if it’s good. Sometimes I think I‘m so mean by creating such a bloody way of a backstory☹️

Please give me feedback and more fanfic ideas!!💓

[stardewremixed]

First Kiss with Shane

@hellhoundmaggie requested a first kiss scene with Shane. He was the first guy I romanced in SDV, mostly because it was easy to in the beginning and I wanted that first-year flower dance so badly. 😂 🌸

🎈 In case you missed it - First Kiss with Harvey. 🎈

While Harvey holds a special place in my heart and is generally my go-to husbando, I didn’t want to leave my “first SDV squeeze” in the lurch. I’m trying to expand my experience with writing romance in general. Hope you enjoy. It’s a freakin’ novella. Haha. I don’t do short, and I wanted to show how he fell in love with the Farmer, and she with him. 

This is female farmer x Shane = first kiss. This one might be a little more PG. 

😉❤️‍🔥🔥

Sweaty palms. Greasy hair. Chubby cheeks and legs. Is this what she sees in me?

Shane stared bleakly at his own reflection in the refrigerator door. It was quiet. Nearly noiseless in the back aisle of the stark JojaMart. A lull in the daily traffic around 4pm on the dot. When his shift ended.

Shane pressed his forehead against the glass, grumbling to himself about his infinite lack of progress on losing weight. Ever since he started going to therapy and quit drinking, he felt confident that his life would turn around. Like magic.

However, life outside the rehabilitation center was much harder than he remembered. He was still stuck in the same dead-end job. He was still bumming a room off his aunt with his piddly rent And he was still rather plump around his abdomen. 

Every time Morris ordered him around, in that pompous high London accent, Shane wanted to give up. To give in. To snatch a beer outta the cooler and gulp away his frustrations.

Instead, he settled for cussing under his breath, and resolving to keep his head down. At least until he could find another job. No one seemed to be hiring in this dying town. The recession was still hitting hard. And he knew he was lucky to get his old job back after nine months in detox and rehab.

It was worth it. It would be worth it. He convinced himself as he puffed a lazy strand of hair out of his eye and continued stocking cartons of overprocessed milk, nothing like his aunt’s fresh bottles or the farmer’s delicious cheeses. 

While he was still grossly underpaid, Shane worked out the math. In six more checks, he could repay her. The Jolly Rancher. Just thinking about his silly little nickname for the farmer lady to the north gave him a warm feeling. The kind that alcohol used to give him, only better, more real. Her smile was sweet.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When she first arrived in town, Shane genuinely disliked her. All her bubbly, bouncy, jolly persona encroaching on his flat, boring, grumpy existence. He had cultivated a philosophy of "me myself and I" and was perfectly content being alone, sulking into a pitcher of beer at the end of the night. But not really…

Her jovialty grew on him, especially when he would see her around town, helping people out. At first, he figured she was just another city do-gooder come to convert the backwater people to a more modern lifestyle. But her joy and kindness was genuine. Even when he yelled at her to go away, she still murmured a heartfelt apology for disturbing him and then brought him freshly grown peppers or tomatoes the next day like nothing had ever happened.

The Farmer purchased cows from Marnie so she could make her own specialty dairy products. He was seriously impressed. Because what city girl just ups and buys cattle? 

Sometimes when he was restlessly tossing and turning in bed (and if was honest, lonely), Shane would wander around in the wee pre-dawn hours. He always seemed to make his way to her ranch. Most of the time, she was out in the barn milking the cows and talking to them like they were her babies, with just a lantern illuminating her soft face. She was so beautiful. 

Raising cattle was no simple task. He knew this from watching his aunt. And Marnie had horses, pigs, goats, rabbits and chickens to think of too. He wasn't sure if the new rancher in town, with little to no experience (save her degree in veterinary medicine), was stupid or brave. Over time, he determined she was the latter.

Out searching for a lost cow in a thunderstorm. Not thinking about her own welfare. Only wanting to reunite a terrified animal with its herd. 

Fixing fences after wolves knocked down the back posts time and time again. Her fingers bleeding and scarred because of her lack of self-awareness sometimes. And chasing of “’dem there wolves” with sheer willpower... and... a big stick. 

Rebuilding the barn from scratch when a wildfire spread down from the mountains. She saved every single one of those animals. And needing treatment for smoke inhalation because she went back in for the tiniest frightened newborn. 

He remembered the time she got kicked in the head by one of the cows. Shane was so worried about her, even if he wouldn’t admit it when he carried her to the Clinic. Thankfully, it was only a minor concussion. (And it was an excuse for him to deliver Marnie's special basket of goodies to her twice daily so she didn't have to worry about feeding herself during her recovery). 

The rancher struggled for a whole year, after arriving in the Valley. But even when things went wrong, she was up and back at it the next morning with a lightness in her heart and step. It. Was. Admirable.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shane resolved to do better. To be better. She made him think about how things could be different if he wasn't a self-sabotaging jerkwad. The number of times she dragged his sorry ass home after getting plastered at the Saloon was too high to count, even if it was out of her way, even if she said she didn't mind. She wanted him to be okay. To be safe. She said so.

And she half pushed, half dragged him to the Clinic the night things got really dark. When he faced the edge of the cliff and thought "No more!" When he thought death would be a welcome reprieve from his pathetic life. 

She never judged him. She didn't enable him like his aunt. She didn't fall apart into a puddle of tears like Jas. She didn't lecture him on the evils of his ways while twirling his moustache like Harvey. Okay. Shane chuckled to himself. Maybe that last part was an exaggeration and unfair to the good doctor.

She. Simply. Cared. 

Through her actions. 

In the beginning, it was little things. A happy hello. A robust handwave. Then she started pulling up a barstool next to him in the Stardrop. She would ask him about his day and he would always answer the same way. But "go away" somehow morphed into a sarcastic "just peachy" and then eventually a half-hearted "fine, you can sit there." Once she jokingly called him Peaches. 

He didn't want to be bothered with her questions and idle chatter. He didn't want to listen to her ranching successes and woes, retold in a much-too-chipper voice. He didn't want to know about Bluebell and Daffodil and Daisy, how Mister Munster was nursing a hoof injury and how Mrs. Butters was expecting her second calf. Why did she think he cared about such details?

But it grew on him. Those rosy, ruddy cheeks, enjoying a hard-earned glass of whatever Gus had on tap. The way her eyes lit up and sparkled when she talked about her animal friends. The way her pale pink lips pouted when she lost a game of Journey of the Prairie King in the saloon arcade. Again. 

Shane found himself drawn to her energy. And he found himself missing her on the nights she didn't stop into the Saloon. Which was a rarity, but did happen.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shane knew she was someone special when he would watch the entrance door, breath caught, hoping she would breeze through, and then she didn't. Two days in a row. He started to feel disappointed, but brushed it off. Three days. He started to get concerned. On the fourth night, he went looking for her. And that's when he learned she was sick.

He practically broke down her door when she didn’t answer. 

“Aww you were worried,” she laughed weakly, and coughed. 

She looked rather pitiful, bundled under the blankets, hair sticking to her cheek, eyes droopy and dark. She thought Marnie would have told him. His aunt had sent a few of her ranch hands to help their neighbor out while she was under the weather. so her cattle weren’t forgotten 

No, Marnie never did. He suspected it was because she didn't know it would matter to him. But it did matter. She. Did. Matter. 

Without a word, Shane went to the kitchen and returned with a cool towel. He didn't even think. He laid the back of his large hand against her delicate forehead. He could've sworn the little Miss Jolly Rancher blushed. Or maybe it was the slight fever she was running. She audibly sighed as he placed the wet cloth against her burning cheek, closing her eyes and mumbling her thanks.

He wanted to know the last time she ate. She grunted and said something about some cereal earlier that morning. She didn't know for sure. She had slept most of the day. He promised he would be right back. 

She told him not to bother, as she struggled to lift her body off the bed, propping up by a shaky elbow. He insisted she lie back down. She was a stubborn one. Her protestations didn't last long as her head was too foggy to think straight. He microwaved a bowl of soup. She tried to sit up again, and he fluffed her pillows so she could prop up.

Her grip on the spoon wasn't firm, her trembling hands an indication of just how weak she was. So he caught the escaping silverware and lifted the soup to her lips. She turned red as a hot pepper, but he eased her with a surprisingly tender words, "Please. Let me take care of you for once, Miss Jolly." His own face and ears were probably red too. But she accepted.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Since then, he began the habit of calling her "Miss Jolly." She flushed every time, but he enjoyed flustering her. It was nice… to care… about… someone.

She returned the “favor” and called him Peaches. At first, jokingly, just to annoy him. But over time, even the ridiculous fruity nickname grew on him. She was invading his thoughts and heart and he couldn’t stop her. 

He knew he had to change. He had to get better. Alcoholism was a disease that had ravaged his life and he was ready for something better. He couldn’t live like he had been any longer. She had changed everything for him. And he wanted to change in return. 

Disappointment smacked cold. He had researched so many places. But the one place that seemed to fit his needs and desired treatment plan was out of reach. Prohibitively expensive. He sold his dad’s watch. His car. He worked longer hours. Maybe in a few years he could make up the difference. 

She knew how much he wanted this... and how badly he needed this. Every glance at his savings account wanted to drive him to the bottle, the hopelessness of a solution just out of reach because of his crappy medical insurance. They wouldn’t cover it. Even though he was pretty sure Joja was the reason he drank so heavily. 

No, that wasn’t true. It was his own insurmountable guilt. Of surviving the accident. When they didn’t. Of leaving Jas without a respectable father figure. Or a mother. He didn’t even fight when the courts wanted to give him jail time. 

His aunt got a lawyer and gave him a place to stay when he got out. She helped him put together a resume and practically shoved the application for overnight backroom clerk in his hands. He had to face the music. He wasn’t cut out for any other job. And it was basically a glorified “stock boy.” 

Approaching middle-age, recently released from prison, and overwhelmed with a crushing lack of self worth, Shane interviewed and got the job. He should be grateful. But the hours were grueling and monotonous. Customers were rude. Employees were ruder. Except that Sam kid. He was a ball of sunshine. And his boss was sucking the life outta him. 

So he drank. He drank to forget. Because he couldn’t forgive himself. And every time he looked at Jas’ little pained expression, he drank more because he felt... so... damn... worthless. 

The Rancher changed things for him. He felt more positive. He got up earlier. He brushed his teeth. He combed his hair. He put on his uniform for the world’s lousiest low-paying job and went to work hoping things would be better. 

Faced with the inability to actually “get better” was... frankly... terrifying. What if he went back to being that same old pathetic blob of a human again? After ten agonizing days, he finally confided in the one person he knew he could trust. His “Miss Jolly.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He couldn’t believe he had been moved to tears. She surprised him... again. With her thoughtful generosity and selflessness. She promised to pay for the difference. Whatever he couldn’t afford. She told him it wasn’t a big deal. It was a VERY BIG deal! She still had some of the inheritance money from her grandfather. What she hadn’t spent on fixing up the farm. 

“So I don’t get those gingham curtains I’ve had my eyes on for the past month,” she quipped. 

It was serious. He couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it. It was too much. He didn’t like the idea of being indebted. He was stubborn. He could refuse. 

But she was more stubborn. She insisted it would be a loan, not a gift. He could pay it off over time. Without interest. Or he could work it off - sweat equity - on her ranch. Maybe with those chickens he liked so much. 

In the end, he caved. He packed up what little he could take with him. And she walked him to the bus stop. Kissed his cheek. Squeezed his hand. And said the words that simultaneously made him laugh and warmed his heart.

“Go get ‘em, Peaches.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was a year ago now. When he came home, she threw a big surprise party for him. A few people from town, his aunt, Jas. And she never looked more beautiful. She even found chicken shaped balloons. Because... what guy doesn’t want balloon animals from the girl he’s crushing on? 

Crushing on? He smirked. I sound like a middle schooler. 

He split his time between the market and her ranch. Gradually spending more and more time on her farm. Gathering eggs before his shift. Feeding chickens on the way home from work. Sipping peach iced tea in the shade of her porch and thinking this life wasn’t half-bad. But he wanted more. 

She started bringing by lunches on his longer shift days. Homemade sandwiches and fresh-pressed juices and handpicked peppers. The kind that burst with sweetness or that spicy kick he needed to get through the rest of his day. 

She learned to roll her own dough. Once a week, on hot summer evenings, she would make him pizza with her own special spicy red sauce. Wearing that cute little red and white checkered apron around her jean shorts and just below the edge of her tank top. Too hot to be standing around the stovetop making pizza sauce or the oven to bake the dough. But she did it for him. Shane looked forward to it after a long and grueling Saturday shift. 

He still stopped at the Saloon most nights, but now it was just to drink soda and share a pepper poppers appetizer. Gus started bottling root beer, made from bark and flowers and herbs from around the Valley. It wasn’t alcoholic. And it was an acquired taste. Getting better with time. 

She would breeze in and offer suggestions and feedback. Shane enjoyed watching the two “play” squabble over the choice of leaves. The kindly saloon owner and the girl he liked collaborating to make him a refreshing drink became a welcome nicety. 

Most nights, they didn’t stay long. Heading out for long walks around town. Shoes scuffling along cobblestones. Kicking up dirt on wooded paths. Kicking off on the beach to feel the mushy sand. Talking about nothing important, but always special. Any time with her was special. 

He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have a friend like her. To have a woman of her rare caliber show him any attention at all. She got past his defenses and he welcomed it. And deep in his heart, Shane knew - this was love. 

With today’s paycheck, he could finally take her on a proper date. Somewhere out of the Valley. Someplace where they could have fun together. He felt the excitement and nervous anticipation rising in his chest. Somehow he fumbled through an “ask” on her front porch this morning, managing to invite her to join him... if she wanted... at the bus stop... around 5pm. He had tickets to see the Tunnelers play. 

Shane finished his shelf, glancing at his watch. Ten past four. Just enough time to get home, showered, and changed. He disposed of the empty boxes in the dumpster and delivered the cart to the back room. Opening his locker, he hung his apron on the hook. Instantly, he felt lighter. Like that thing was a noose around his neck. A ball and chain. He really needed a new job. And in fifty, no, forty-six minutes, he could see her... 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"SHANE!"

The shrill obnoxious tone pierced his moment of peace. The voice could only belong to one person - a holllow husk of a corporate shill, even more unlikeable than him, if that was even possible. Shane frowned, his eyes clamping on the store manager barreling toward him at full speed. 

“A whole second shipment came in just now,” the man grunted. “Like I need this when I’m short-staffed, as always,” he offered an exasperated sigh. 

I can’t imagine why... Shane thought to himself, bemused. The boss was insufferable. Always barking orders. Never praising his team. Paying peanuts. Polishing his baby - a silver Rolls Royce in mint condition - parked in the only covered spot in the entire Joja lot - every night - instead of doing paperwork like he should. How was he still employed? No one at corporate cared. 

“Not my problem, Morris,” Shane replied. 

“No, no, no,” Morris fluttered his short arms. “It is your problem. I need you to stay late and help Sam empty the truck.”

The man continued to ramble something about “this is why I pay you” and “you think you can do better somewhere else?” He badgered Shane about his “work ethic,” even if Shane had been a near model employee since returning from rehab. Even if his former colleagues actually welcomed him back, much to his shock. Shy little Claire even commented on how he was “different” than before.

Shane had been nominated for employee of the month, no doubt, angering Morris. The man had it out for him. Sticking him on graveyard shifts. Making him mop baby puke in the aisles. Forcing him to attend a “hospitality” seminar so he could learn to be nicer to, in Morris’ words, “bored housewives who somehow like your prickly personality.” 

Morris, a man who prided himself in appearance, with his neat little bow tie and perfectly ironed jacket, couldn’t believe how the ladies bought more after a rough encounter with Shane. It was good for business, of course, and Morris would take all the credit. That hospitality seminar wasn’t cheap, he constantly reminded Shane. Like rehab hadn’t made him a better person already. Or his relationship with little Miss Jolly. 

“They just fawn over your monotone delivery of the daily sales,” Morris droned on. “Yoba only knows why. You haven’t been educated at the finest university this side of the Pond with an impeccable taste in... well, everything.” Morris puffed his chest. 

“I just don’t understand why they giggle at the register about the ‘handsome’ stock boy when they could have me recite the daily sales in Shakespearean English for heavens sake. Well, no matter. I can use what I’ve got. You.” 

The man thinks I’m a frickin’ pack of meat. 

“Now in order to have sales, we must have stocked shelves. And in order to have stocked shelves, I need to have you stay longer. Because shelves don’t stock themselves... and what are you staring at?” 

Shane rubbed his jaw, catching his reflection in Morris’ little glasses. Could I really be that handsome? Morris wasn’t wrong. The market had been a little busier than usual in the mornings and around lunchtime. Shane came back from breaks early sometimes because customers “requested” him. He could reach the “tall” shelves. 

But he wasn’t that tall. And most times, he needed a ladder. Unlike Sam. But even Sam told him he had been relegated to “cute” because the female patrons wanted to check out the new guy (on the ladder) because Shane possessed a look of danger and mystery, and had that "hot dad bod."

Like that’s really a thing I wanted! Shane rolled his eyes. It's all a little disgusting. Being oogled. Because what? Dangerous? Dad bod? I’m just me. There was only one gal he wanted checking him out. And he needed to get going if he was going to meet her. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No can do, Boss,” Shane removed his Joja cap and hooked it alongside his apron. “Got plans tonight.” 

“No, no, no,” Morris’ voice grew tight, his eyes becoming tinier. “That won’t do. You must cancel your plans.” 

“Do I get overtime?” Shane asked, half-distracted by the photo occupying the inside of his locker. 

It was the only thing he had ever decorated with at work. A photo of him and Miss Jolly at the Moonlight Jellies festival about a month ago. It was the one time he actually thought he was photogenic. How could he not be happy? With a gorgeous gal by his side, smiling and laughing as the photo was taken, a woman who believed in him, rooted for him, and cared for him. Shane’s expression softened as he thought about how much she had impacted his life. 

“You know what?” Shane ripped the photo from his locker wall with gusto. “I quit.” 

“Are you even listening?” Morris was saying. “And no, I’m not going to approve overtime. You left early by one minute the other night. One minute!"

"And one time last week, you were late by three minutes. I will not approve overtime for someone who nearly runs over a flock of geese with his bicycle and is late to work."

"If you’re going to keep up with this lazy attitude of yours...” he huffed and straightened his jacket. “I may have to reconsider my decision to rehire you... even if you bring in the ladies... I mean... sales...” 

“What?” Morris’ eyes grew wide as saucers beneath his horn-rimmed glasses, and then his expression darkened, as if Shane poured bitter coffee all over the plates. “You cannot quit. Are you joking?” 

“Well I do, and I’m not,” Shane shoved the old rusty lock that never latched properly into the other man’s hand, a smile crossing his face. “With pleasure.”

Shane waltzed out of the soul-sucking store, leaving a dumbfounded former boss as the double doors whooshed behind him. He closed his eyes and took a big gulp of sea-salt air and sighed. He felt free. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When she met him at the bus stop, his heart skipped a beat. She looked radiant in the setting sun. Her eyes sparkling like stars. And her sexy little denim skirt was a nice touch too. The way her hips swayed ever so slightly on approach. He forced his gaze upward. 

"Hiiii... Miss Jolly. I'm glad you decided to come," he greeted, his tone a bit stilted and formal. 

What am I doing? He rubbed the back of his head.

"Of course, Peaches. I'm excited," she grinned. "This will be my first game."

"You'll love it!" he replied, wrinkling his nose at her childish nickname for him. And I will too with you by my side.

"Is that cologne?" she asked when she reached his side. 

Her fingers curled around his hoodie strings as she closed her eyes and took a whiff. "I like it." She grinned and winked at him. "A bit spicy."

"Yeah yeah," he murmured and ushered her onto the bus, but he hopped up the step behind her, feeling a little lighter on his feet.

"You're in a good mood," she remarked as they wandered toward the back of the bus. 

The atmosphere was charged. Rowdy. Everyone seemed excited for the Tunnelers game. He nodded to a few familiar faces before settling in next to her seat. The back was better than the front. Cool kids sat in the back. What am I? In the sixth grade? 

Still he was relaxed. Smiling even. She repeated her statement as if he didn’t hear her the first time. Damn straight  I’m in a good mood.  Because I get to spend time with you… maybe even tell you how I feel tonight… He decided the overcrowded bus wasn't the best place for that confession. The vehicle lurched forward and so did the conversation. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I quit my job."

Her eyes widened and a slow smile played at her lips, drawing his attention to them. I bet they're juicy. He had fantasized about kissing her, ever since she planted one on him at this very bus stop twelve months ago when he shipped off to rehab. Out of respect for their “business arrangement” and friendship, he held off on the liplocking, but it didn’t mean he still didn’t wonder what it would be like if he had just turned his head to meet her mouth that night. 

“Good for you,” she laid a hand on his shoulder. 

Her gentle touch bringing him back to reality and away from his lustful la-la land. 

“I knew that place was killing the light in you. I just wish I could've seen Morris' smug face when you finally told him."

"Light in me?" he repeated, ignoring the statement about his ex-manager. 

"Yes," she slowly slid her hand up to his cheek, blushing a little while she moved. "You look better. Brighter."

"That's just the shower talkin'," he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No, it's you, Shane," she replied, dropping her hand far too soon for his liking.

He wanted to beg her to keep it there, against his cheek. But present company dissuaded him, and he remained silent, nodding his thanks. The way she said his name... he bounced his leg a bit in nervousness as the bus bumped along the road... it made his knees weak and his head clouded. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Did I miss anything?"

Shane descended the last step, returning to their seats in the stadium, snacks in hand. The game was tied up, the teams neck and neck in their scoring with each other. It was one of the most thrilling games he had ever seen in person. Even more exciting because she was there. With her incessant questions about the rules. Her exuberance at the Tunnelers' first goal. Even the little wrinkle around her eyes when she didn’t understand what was happening. He loved every minute of it.

And he loved explaining things. Even if he worried about boring her to death with his encyclopedic knowledge of gridball, he couldn’t stop talking. This was something he loved and he was sharing it with the woman he loved... even if she didn’t know it yet. 

"Only the announcer making bad jokes," she smirked. “And that guy...” she pointed to one of the pros. “...doing a silly little dance for the fans.” 

“Yeah, he’s known for that,” Shane laughed awkwardly, feeling a small twinge of jealousy that another man had caught her eye. 

“Not that he’s any good at it,” she laughed too. “Not like our little grooves in the Saloon.” 

“Oh?” he quirked a brow. “By the way, I got us some nachos. I asked the vendor to add some hot peppers… just like we like it."

"Like we both like it," she said in unison. "Thanks,” she snagged a chip and did a deep dip into the sauce. “You should've let me pay for snacks since you paid for tickets and the bus fare."

"Naw, we're on a date," he shrugged. "The guy pays. Plus, I wanted to."

Shane averted his eyes, suddenly self-conscious. "Did I tell you how much… I l…love…. Gridball?"

She stopped and looked at him as if surprised by his old-fashioned thought. I shouldn't have been so careless, he grimaced. Then he immediately wished his face wasn't so readable.

It was a date. A real date. But somehow they slid from acquaintances to friends to best friends and then... somehow something more, without ever defining the relationship.

Did she want parameters? Did he need a label? Were they... ever going to be what he hoped to be if he ever got his head out of his ass and asked her for real? 

"Yes, only the thousand or so times on the bus," she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I knew you played in high school.” 

Just like that, she slipped back to a more neutral topic. And he mentally flogged himself for the missed opportunity. 

“Yeah, blowing out my knee pretty much killed my chances at playing pro,” he said. “Doesn’t stop me from enjoying the games though.” 

“Have you ever thought about it?” she inquired. “Going back. Maybe the minors or even just a pick-up team. I bet you looked great in a uniform,” her eyes twinkled mischievously. “And I wouldn’t mind the view of you in those white pants.” 

Red flooded his cheeks. Is she messing with me? How does she do it? Go back and forth between friendzone topics and flirtation? She made it look effortless. She was toying with him. She had to be. Dancing around the subject. Hoping he would ask. Or was he imagining things? 

Her hand hovered dangerously close to his side. Brushing the hem of her skirt. Nearly touching his shorts. He gulped, feeling flattered, but strangely unprepared for her seductive little smirks. He handed her the soda he fetched, and she thanked him, gulping back the liquid as if it were a small instead of a large. Saying something about all the cheering making her thirsty. 

He was the thirsty one. Eyeing her up and down and wanting to close the distance between them. Taking it from flirty friends to... faithful lovers. He never wanted a woman more than he did right now. To devote all his love and passion and energy and goodwill into being there for her just like she had for him. 

For the whole second half of the game, he nursed his cola. Distracted by her every move. The way she would raise her heels in anticipation of a score and lower them back to the ground when they didn’t quite make it. The way she spoke with that happy voice of hers, the kind that could lull him to sleep or rally him to make his best efforts. The way she repeated back facts she was learning about the sport, that he had literally just taught to her that night. He was completely mesmerized... so much so... he forgot to actually watch the game. For once, he liked the distraction. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the Tunnelers scored again, she nearly flew off the ground, wildly cheering for their unexpected interception. He caught her hand as she was jumping back down. She squeezed it and continued whooping and shaking her fist victoriously in the air, never taking her eyes off the game. It was now or never.

"Hey," he said loudly to be heard over the stadium noise. "I've been meaning to tell you… thank you.” 

“For what, Peaches?” she said, teasingly. “Did you see that? How many yards was it? Seventy-five? Eighty?” 

“I mean it, really,” Shane cleared his throat, leaning closer to her ear. “ For sticking with me through everything."

She turned to face him, her expression growing more serious. 

"My… anxiety… depression… you know," he continued, fumbling over his words. "The alcoholism… I mean, I wasn't exactly the funnest person to be around back then."

Did I just use the word funnest? He rubbed the back of his head, hoping to read her expression, but for once, he couldn't.

“You do that... when you’re nervous,” she remarked. “That head rub thing...” she reached up and ruffled his hair. “It’s... cute.” 

“Uh...” Shane trailed off. She was not making this easy. But he needed to say the words aloud now or he never would. 

"You… uh… still helped me. You've been a really… good… friend to me," he shared, and then immediately regretted his word choice.

"Oh," she said, quietly.

Was that a flicker of disappointment in her eyes?

He hurried his words. "Anyway this is your first gridball game, huh? Well? What do you think?"

Smooth, Shane. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Changing the subject again, you frickin’ chicken.

"Oh…" she said, glancing back to the field, sounding a little confused. "Fun. I guess, Pelican Town seems pretty boring in comparison. Unless you count Sam's punk rock blaring at 11pm, breaking noise ordinances." She forced a chuckle.

Is she…? Am I imagining things?

"I'm surprised," he replied. "Didn't you move to the Valley to escape the noise of the city?"

She's looking at me again with those beautiful heart-melting eyes. He rushed through his words.

"I mean… don't get me wrong. I totally understand. My life in Pelican Town is pretty bland, you know. And now that I don't have a job, I gotta find something meaningful to do with my time again. A guy's gotta eat, right? Heh?"

"I was thinking about that," she replied, without looking at him. "I think it would be nice to have you around full-time."

"What?" he blinked.

"I've got one ranch hand now to help in the back pasture and one that helps out with the milking and all, but if I'm looking to expand, and if they ever take a sick day, I could use some extra hands," she continued. "Maybe your hands?"

I couldn't. Possibly. Was she blushing?

"You've already… done so much for me," he hated the hesitancy in his tone. "I… uh…"

She ignored his last comment. "This would be a business thing. We could do it temporarily to see if you like it. And if it's a good fit for both of us. I can be a bit of a…" she narrowed her eyes, mischievously. "Hard taskmaster."

"Oh? Yeah I've heard that from your current employees," he smirked. "But you are still a jolly one."

"Yeah…" she smiled, almost shyly, tucking a hair over her ear. “Your Miss Jolly.” 

The noise level in the stadium increased near ten-fold. All he could think about was how she said the words. She was begging him, wasn’t she? Walking right up to the brink and leaving him there? He reluctantly ripped his gaze away from the farmer to the field.

"Gah!" he screamed, his volume matching the crowd. "The Tunnelers are on the attack."

"Yes! Yes!" she shrieked. "Oh my Yoba! Final seconds. They're gonna…" she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "They're gonna break the tie."

"GOAL!" they yelled in unison. 

He never felt so happy. He was going on six months sober. He quit his horrible job. The farmer was offering him another one so he could see her every day. And he got to watch his favorite team in the world in the closest game in history with his favorite person in the world. Sharing this moment together meant everything.

"Thank you Shane!" she said, trying to catch her breath. "This was the best evening ever with you!"

"I know, I know!" he exclaimed. "Probably one of the best moments of my life."

Before he could stop himself, his lips were against hers. Surprise flickered in her eyes. All he could hear was the thudding of his own heart. She was flushed. The warmth of her lips. The taste of root beer. The delight overwhelming the alarm bells. He took a step or two back, stumbling as he came to his senses.

"Oh?" he gasped for air. "Uh… um… sorry. I guess I got carried away there. Maybe I had one too many... sodas. All that sugar. Ha!" 

Shane reached up to rub his head like he always did when he was nervous, just like she had noticed. Except this time, she strutted toward him, confidence in her eyes as she grabbed that hand and tugged him down. As they kissed for the second time, he felt her melt into his arms as she offered a faint “finally,” barely audible amidst the roar of the crowd. 

Encouraged, Shane grinned, hoisting her off the ground. She giggled and kissed him more fervently. Maybe he didn’t need words. Maybe he only needed actions to show her how he felt. 

And she was reciprocating. A dream come true. Their eyes remained locked in a loving gaze as he pulled back from her lips. When he finally set her down, he breathed heavily. 

"You really do love the Tunnelers?" she teased, disentangling her hands from his hair. 

"No," he shook his head, determined not to let this moment go by. "I really do love you."

"Come on, we'll miss our bus outta here," she grabbed his hand and pulled him through the exiting crowds.

“Wait,” Shane pulled her back for one more greedy kiss. 

She happily accepted, but he felt a fleeting ping of sadness even as they kissed in the stairwell, people pushing around them. He wondered if she even heard his confession. Maybe it's too soon? We just had our first kiss. She probably didn't hear me.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they reached the parking lot, the reality of what had just happened still sinking in, they were too late. The bus huffed away with a puff of smog. They had just missed their ride back to the Valley. And there wouldn’t be another one until morning. If he hadn’t been so carried away and enamored by his date, maybe they would’ve left the stadium sooner. 

“Guess we should call a taxi,” she broke the silence first. “Or... actually... find a hotel.” 

“A hotel?” he repeated, his ears perking at the thought of sharing space with her. 

"Yes," she replied, without skipping a beat. "I mean, if we're gonna be stuck together in Zuzu overnight, we should get a hotel. A taxi ride would be really expensive and I don't think we have enough time to get across town to catch the train."

"Oh right," he said softly. "Uh… I can't let you pay for a hotel too."

"It's no trouble," she pulled out her cell phone and started scouring the internet for places. "And a hot shower sounds nice after all the sweat and grime of us in there,” she nodded back toward the stadium. “...jammed in like sardines."

"Uhm…" he blinked rapidly. You're a grown man. Get it together.

"This place looks nice," she showed him a picture after a minute or two, while he awkwardly plopped on the edge of the sidewalk. "And it's got a 4-star rating." She sat next to him, dropping her hand on top of his. “Oh look it’s got an in-suite jacuzzi.” 

"Uh… sure," he shrugged, uncertain about what to do with his hands that so desperately wanted to kiss her again. "Well, that definitely was a good game."

"Yes, and it's going to be an even better night, because it doesn't have to end here," she smiled sweetly. “Since we’re getting a hotel,” she winked. 

“Oh yeah... and we won too,” he stammered. “The Tunnelers, ya know?” 

“No... no, I didn’t. Really? They did?" she smiled sarcastically, and leaned closer. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“What?” he gasped, feeling shocked as her blase attitude toward his favorite team. 

“I mean, it was great... and all... and their win was pretty spectacular,” she acknowledged. “But I feel like I won the lottery with you here.” She interlocked arms with him. “Did you mean it? Shane? When you said you loved me?” 

So she did hear me! And the way his name fell from his lips caused his heart to soar and he found his confidence. 

“Yes, I meant it. I love you,” Shane replied. “But I wanted it to be special. Better than this... stranded in a parking lot with trash all over the place.” 

“It is special,” she replied. 

“But it wasn’t perfect,” he grimaced. “I was planning on telling you when we got back... when I walked you back to your place tonight.” 

His head felt hazy with love and desire as she kissed him again. This time, she draped a leg over his, pressing against his chest. He audibly moaned, leaning into the kiss. His hand naturally slid down her back to help her balance, and he squeezed softly, like he had wanted to for a long time. She matched his intensity with a clutch of her own, and he groaned again, reluctantly breaking their touch. 

“I don’t need perfect, Shane. I just need you."

His heart leaped from his chest as she continued.

"I love you too. I want you.”  

“Ahhhh... then let’s get to that hotel,” he said, the heat of her breasts against his chest creating a near uncontrollable fire within him. 

“Fine,” she playfully pouted. “I’ll behave... Hot Stuff," she fanned herself. “...for now... since we’re in public.” 

“Believe me,” he replied with a heavy sigh, feeling a healthy growth between his legs. “I want you all to myself.” 

She giggled and tapped her phone. "Done. Got us booked.”

“That fast?” 

“Yes, It’s only a two and a half block walk. Now… shall we?" She jumped to her feet and darted away briskly. 

“Someone’s impatient!” he smirked. “What if I had said no?” 

“I wouldn’t take no for an answer.” 

“Oh really?” he liked teasing her as she brought out his confidence. He started into a jog away, passing her on the sidewalk. “Well, I’ll see you soon.” 

“Shane!” she laughed and chased after him. 

Of course, he let her catch him. She playfully punched his arm, but then lingered. She was beaming. And he was too. Shane took her hand, looking down at the woman he loved, and smiled, brighter than he ever had in his entire life.  She loved him and wanted him… just as he loved and wanted her. 

 “Shane?”

He wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulder. Tonight, he was going to make her fully his, and he would be fully hers. 

"Yes, my Miss Jolly.” 

[chishiyasleftnut]

Hii I love your fics <3

Can I request chishiya x fem!reader but, he's alone masturbating while reader it's busy on the beach(? Something like that

Thanks <3

Hi! (´｡• ω •｡`) Writing a solo Chishiya fic was actually so much fun. I was giggling the entire time, haha. I hope you like it because I had a blast writing it!

Thinking of You

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Warnings: Smut. Pairing: Chishiya x fem!reader.

Plot: Chishiya can't stop thinking about fem!reader. However, as she was off partying and therefore not available to help him out, Chishiya decided to take matters into his own hands.

1662 words. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Chishiya wasn’t a horny man. He could go ages without sex or even masturbation in the real world. To him, there were way more important things to focus on that getting off. Sure, it was nice, but it was otherwise pointless - and Chishiya hated doing pointless things. 

He took this view of sexual pleasure with him into the Borderlands - well, that was until you showed up. Never would he have thought that he would willingly spend countless hours on sex and love it. It was as if he was unable to be alone in the same room as you for long before his fingers found their way around your waist, travelling all across your body in an attempt to make the both of you feel good.

What he didn’t expect as a by-product of this, was how much he wanted you even when you weren’t there; how even the thought of you would make his dick uncomfortably hard. This was entirely new territory for him and for the first time ever he had no idea of what to do. To his knowledge there existed no step-by-step guide explaining how to get his mind off of dirty thoughts.

Normally this wasn’t a problem. You were never far away and always willing, so he didn’t have to sit with his horniness alone for long. Tonight was different, however. You were indulging in the wonders of the Beach, celebrating something he had forgotten. Of course, partying wasn’t really Chishiya’s type of thing, but as long as you promised to stay safe and alert, he wouldn’t stop you from having fun. In fact, although he would never admit it, he loved caring for drunk you.

He could see you from the hotel window, drink in hand and dancing around with other members of the Beach. Even though you were far away, Chishiya couldn’t help by notice how your curves bounced with each little carefree hop you made. God, you looked good, and God he wished you were in the room with him now instead of by the pool.

The more he watched you, the more he felt blood rushing from one head to another. A frustrated groan sounded from him as he forced himself away from the window. He had to get this under control. Normally, he would just wait for you to come back, but that wasn’t an option right now. He had no idea how long you would be away for, and he wasn’t about to potentially wait hours in this state.

With his back to the wall, he began palming himself through his swim trunks, imagining that it was your hand instead of his. He closed his eyes to help his mind creating the feeling of your soft, warm hands caressing his length. It helped somewhat, at least enough to make him grunt and desperately reach inside his shorts for more stimulation. His hand was immediately met with the tepid drops of precum that were oozing out of his painfully hard dick and staining the inside of his swim shorts. That didn’t matter, he could wash them later.

Chishiya tried to remember how you would touch him so he could replicate it. With gentle fingers, he circled around his tip, gathering a generous amount of sticky precum just as you always did. Using this natural lubrication, Chishiya began stroking himself up and down. Unable to stop himself, his touch getting more and more frenzied as time went on. But no matter how hard he stroked, it was as if something was missing.

Suddenly getting a genius idea, Chishiya immediately pulled his hand back up from his shorts and briskly walked to the bathroom. With clear intend, he began searching for your makeup bag. He knew it was around here somewhere - he saw you use it every morning. Once found, he brought it with him back into the bedroom, spewing its contents all over the bed to easier get an overview of the many items. Chishiya rarely made messes, but he didn’t care right now. He was on a mission.

Just as he was about to go insane, he finally found it: your hand lotion. Perfect. With a relieved sigh, Chishiya pulled his trunks down and got comfortable on the bed. He squirted a liberal amount of the cream into his dominant hand and brought it up to his nose. Right that second it felt as if you were there in the room with him. This would work.

After one last deep inhale, Chishiya brought the lotion filled hand back down to his hardness, wrapping his fingers around himself and immediately stroking up and down. Closing his eyes, he allowed the scent to help his mind imagine you more clearly. The almost sinful sound of his lubed-up hand pulling furiously on his dick belonged more in porn than real life, but it only further helped him visualise you in the room. To him, the sound was similar to the one he heard when he would relentlessly fuck into your wet core. All that was missing was the sweet, sweet sound of your moans. Well, he would just have to imagine that.

His own moans filled up the room as his hand moved faster and faster. Although it felt good, at the same time he felt as if something was missing. While the thought of it being your hand that was choking his dick was highly enticing, he at the same time wanted more than your hand. His hand slowed down while he troubleshooted how to create an even more arousing scenario.

Suddenly, it came to him. All he needed was a position change to emulate real sex even better. Chishiya turned around so he was laying on his stomach and placed a pillow underneath his pelvis. This would work perfectly, he thought.

Just as he was about to fuck the pillow, he spotted your perfume bottle on the bed and another stroke of genius hit him. Inspired by the hand lotion he had used earlier, Chishiya grabbed the perfume bottle and began spraying it generously on a second pillow, the image of you getting more and more visible with each spritz.

With his face buried deep in the now you-scented pillow, his hands began squeezing and fondling the soft material, as if it was your boobs. The thought alone made him wild and caused his hips to savagely thrust into the soft fabric of the pillow. The sounds that left his mouth were almost animalistic, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to be relieved from his throbbing, hard dick no matter how that happened.

The pillow effectively muffled his moans in the same way that it so often did to yours. He could almost see the scene in front of him: you on your knees, ass high up in the air and face pressed into the pillow. It was one of his favourite positions. There was something beautiful about you in such a vulnerable state, in seeing you completely under his control. Oh god, the thought alone made his hips move even faster.

Sure, the pillow was no match to your body, but it did its job. Breathing in your scent deeply, he felt himself get closer and closer to the release he so desperately wanted. When he closed his eyes, he could almost see your fucked out face, your eyes glazed over and mouth permanently open. It was as if he could hear your voice too. ‘Come in me, Chishiya. Fill me up.’

With a final, stuttering thrust and loud, shaky moan, Chishiya came hard, emptying himself all over the pillow’s satin fabric. Never would have had thought that coming on a pillow could feel so good, but it did. With shaky arms, Chishiya pushed himself up in a seated position. It was first now that it clicked just how much of a mess he had made. Your toiletries were everywhere, the bedsheets were all tangled and damp from his sweat, and the pillow…

The pillow. Well, this was a problem. For what felt like hours, Chishiya stared at the soiled pillow, trying to figure out how to handle this new situation. Finally, Chishiya picked it up and removed the pillowcase. Maybe the pillow itself was fine? Shit, no. The pillow was wet too. Seeing no way to salvage the pillow, Chishiya stood up and got dressed, before disposing of the pillow in a plastic bag. His plan was to leave no trace, so he quickly and efficiently began cleaning up the mess he had created, carefully putting your toiletries back in the makeup bag and put it back on its spot in the bathroom.

Just as he finished up cleaning, the hotel door opened, revealing your silhouette. You looked happy, but also very, very drunk as evident by your wobbly steps and giggling demeanour. Chishiya walked up to greet you, immediately taking on the caretaker role that he had demeanour to love.

“Did you have fun?” he asked with a smug smile before guiding you over to the bed. You laid down without help yourself, getting comfortable on the soft mattress.

“Hmmm… Very,” you giggled before noticing the lack of something. “Where’s the other pillow?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll grab a new one from the laundry room tomorrow.”

Thank God you were drunk because you decided not to ask any more questions about neither the lack of a pillow or the fact that the room was thickly smelling like your favourite perfume. Instead, Chishiya watched as you closed your eyes to relax, looking completely at peace. For a few seconds, he just observed you before laying down behind you and pulling you into an embrace tight enough that you could share the only pillow.

If only you had walked in 15 minutes earlier, you would have had two. He didn’t mind, though. Sharing the one pillow just meant he was closer to you. He would never complain about that.

[lemotmo]

A nice change of pace 🥰

Q. Let's have some fun! What are your thoughts on the deleted bachelor party scenes? Are you camp they cut something big? Or are you camp they just wanted to film Oliver and Ryan having a good time?

A. Bless you, anon. Bless you! I am definitely camp they cut something. But I don't think they cut it as in it's gone and we will never see it. I think they filmed it always intending to show it. They knew when they were filming those scenes that they were filming way too much 'secondary' content for a Chimney/Maddie focused episode. Which means they would have had to write it, set design it, and film it knowing they weren't going to use most of it. No way. Yes you always have some extra to trim but not that amount of extra. That content was intentional. Had they not been renewed so quickly the wedding episode would have been split into 2 parts and we would have seen the bachelor party in full. The moment they got renewed Tim slowed everything down. When he decided to stretch whatever the Buddie storyline is (😉) into season 8 he decided he could use the bachelor party scenes later, and I think we will now get them as flashback scenes. Whether that means dream sequences, Eddie therapy content or a sudden memory we don't know yet. But they made a point of telling the audience that they were hammered. And If you have ever been that drunk your memory of that night is hazy at best, at least for a bit.

What I can't decide is how big of a something they filmed and are sitting on. Part of me would be livid if the very first Buddie kiss is a flashback. I just wouldn't love that, but at the same time I think the liquid courage would have helped both of them tremendously, so it wouldn't not make sense. Still wouldn't be my favorite though. I just think they promoted it way too hard for the karaoke scene to be the biggest thing they're sitting on. Because Buddie was the promotion. Oliver and Ryan content was everywhere for that episode. It was basically hyped as a Buddie episode. There has to be something more than the karaoke scene. There has to be. I also know that to a lot of people a kissing scene would mean 'cheating' and that idea angers a lot of people. I am personally not one of them. At that point Buck and Tommy had one bad date, that, to me, does not equal cheating. But again that is a touchy subject for a lot of people and I don't ever want to tell anyone else how to feel about something. I just think they're sitting on something fairly big. And I think it would need to be big enough to be able to tie into Eddie kind of losing it and blowing up his entire life. Because that's basically what Eddie did immediately following the bachelor party.

I also keep going back to Oliver and Ryan's behavior around the time of filming that episode. They were just too all in on Buddie for us not to be missing something. And Ryan, who has been the sole off season promotion/interview focus, has been noticeably struggling to find a way to talk about their relationship. Because he can't yet use the word he wants and needs to use (and in the past he has been the one to be pretty reliant on the best friend label, but he hasn't used it once in any interview since the finale). Don't get me wrong it's been fun to watch him try but our boy is out there fighting for his life trying not to slip up. It's beautiful 💗

Thank you Nonny for dropping this into my inbox. You're right! This one is fun.

Fandom is supposed to be fun right? So, speculating about that karaoke scene and the bachelor party? That's a much better way to spend our time than to spend it on hate or frustration. :)

I too am camp 'They cut SOMETHING.' Whether it was a big something or not? I don't know. I do know that the part they cut out is quite big. It isn't just the karaoke, it's a big part of the bachelor party as well. That must have cost quite a bit of money and production time. Why would they let all of that go to waste? It doesn't make sense.

In my opinion they are holding on to something. We might get a flashback in season 8. But yeah, I also hope that it isn't a kiss. I would be thrilled by an almost kiss though. Or something they said to each other, something intimate they both forgot about until one of them suddenly remembers it.

What do you guys think?

As for Oliver and Ryan? I agree. They know exactly where this story is going. :)

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[wordsnstuff]

Hi!

I have reached out to more people, but I'm still having problems with this, and I wanted to hear another opinion.

As a writer, do you have problems continuing a story once you hit a difficult scene?

Because I do, and honestly it's getting me frustrated at this point.

I have a good idea and a plot already done, but every time I hit a difficult scene I just get stuck, and can't write for weeks, sometimes months. I hardly even open the documents when it happens, and sometimes it comes right when I'm on a writing spree and being happy with my writing.

Do you have any advice on how to deal with this? How can I get past this issue and just keep writing more frequently?

I'd really like to hear it!

What do you do when you hit a snag?

When approaching this topic, the frustrating thing is that age-old advice has a lot of truth to it. Sometimes it is true that the best thing you can do when you're stuck is to stop struggling against the resistance and take a meaningful, intentional break to rest your mind and reset your thought process. Sometimes the key to getting started again is shaking up the routine and the altering the process until you find a new combination of habits that meet you where you are.

However, for a lot of us, the turmoil reaches deeper than that. A lot of people who do creative things are neurodivergent, so that has a place in the conversation when discussing what's preventing us from realizing our vision. Even if you don't identify with specific neurodivergence, there are a lot of tools and techniques that have been tried and tested for coping with immense, intrinsic difficulty with things like productivity, mindfulness, interoception, focus, and consistency. Just because these techniques are not specifically designated for you doesn't mean they won't be effective for you.

It is always a helpful exercise to take a step back and examine how you're feeling, both when you are writing and when you aren't, and try to identify any areas where you might be able to improve by changing things within your control.

When it comes to a specific scene holding you back from carrying on, I usually find that it's the result of a decision I made earlier in the plot that isn't serving the story as it continues to develop. I would take a chunk of time to take an analytical look at the scene, where it's come from, what is and isn't sparking in it (is the stagnation mostly due to the characters, events, environment, or lack of information, and is it a scene that is imperative to the reader's understanding?). A lot of the time, it's a scene that can be cut, or it's a scene that can be made redundant by infusing the necessary information of the scene into another place within the story.

If you've identified a scene as "a difficult scene", ask yourself why. If it's daunting because it's too long, then it can probably be cut way down and then added to later if while editing it seems a little thin. If it's challenging because things aren't falling into place and you aren't getting into a flow, then the set-up for the scene probably hasn't been developed effectively and you need to decide whether you're gonna go back in the draft to investigate or move on and return to it while editing.

If the information in the scene needs to be communicated at this specific point in the story, the problem might be the way you've chosen to present it. Pay attention to what your instincts are telling you, because pushing through a scene for the sake of getting past it will not produce a compelling scene to read. If you need to move past it, you have permission to do that. You can always come back and completely dig it up later.

Overall, I think it's very important to write with acceptance that the plot may not turn out the way you planned it. The process is much more effective and much more enjoyable if you aren't trudging along on a predestined path. If the characters and story develop outside of the lines, see where they go. You'll always have the opportunity to return to the outline and tailor later.

Best of luck,

x Kate