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toxicanonymity · 8 months

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i need more raider joel more than i need air in my lungs

Night air.

3500 words, raider!Joel x f!reader | ✨gif

Raider master list ⭐ Joel master

reader-curated playlist | sweet pea (smut songs)

“‘s’too cold out here, sweet pea. put on a shirt, would ya?" Your heart flutters at the implicit invitation and you return with a flannel over your nightie. . . He makes room for you, but doesn’t take his eyes off the fire as he lets you climb into his lap. You study his face and see something new flickering behind it. Worry.

You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you don’t. "When are you gonna come to bed?” you ask instead.

SUMMARY: Joel brutalizes a bad guy, gives it to you hard, then works on something for you and gives it to you slow. His POV is revealing. WARNINGS: I8+, POV alternates, ANGST, Joel's trauma, overkill violence, dubcon (stockholm syndrome) unsafe P in V x2 (hard then soft), dark fluff, f masturbation, somnophilia, staying inside, NO Y/N. A/N: ty @milla-frenchy for Qs & recs 🖤

—--- JOEL——

Yeah, Joel killed two of his own men, and they had it coming. He caught them red handed on their way into your room in the stash house. It still makes his blood boil to think about. If they hadn’t walked into that room talking about you like a piece of meat, those two men would be alive. Joel would do it again in a heartbeat.

He’s not surprised when the others are shaken, but if they’re good men, they have nothing to worry about. When things remain tense longer than he expects, Joel rounds them up for a group meeting. He puts you in the usual room with his trusted guard Carter posted at the door. The meeting becomes heated.

“No one’s gonna be left at this rate,” one man barks. “They ain’t gonna say it,” he gestures behind him to the other men, “but I will. She shouldn’t be here.”

Joel’s voice raises with his blood pressure. He asks, “What’d you say to me, Harold?" as he stands up.

Louder, maybe loud enough for you to hear, Harold repeats, “She shouldn’t be here. It’s bound to happen.” Bound to happen? These low-lifes are bound to put their hands on Joel Miller’s girl? Joel can feel the beat of his rage in his veins. All his muscles tense.

He takes a deep breath, exhales sharply, then says matter-of-factly, “I’ll show ya what else is bound to happen.”

Joel picks up his rifle.

"Yeah, kill me," Harold chides. "Kill us all."

Joel shakes his head no. His voice is deep and flat. "Not until ya beg me to." Now he’s gotta make an example out of someone.

Joel forces Harold outside, then puts his rifle behind his back and lets Harold take a swing at him, just for fun. When Joel gets this wound up, he needs to feel something. After getting clocked square in the jaw, Joel beats him until he’s barely conscious. Then, Joel hoists Harold, who is not a light man, and impales him on a sharp, severed fence post.

Joel puts his rifle around front again, leaving Harold alive but doomed, and heads back toward the house. He’s almost to the door when Harold manages to groan through his gurgles. Joel turns around, calmly raises his rifle, shoots him in the head, then keeps walking. He goes back inside, chest heaving, wiping blood splatter off his face with his wrist. The rest of them are still inside. No one came to Harold's defense or ran. Joel stares down the men, and based on the faces he sees, he’s not worried about any of them.

“Rest of ya got nothin’ to worry ‘bout,” he reassures them. “long as ya leave her ‘lone.”

The men nod. Joel thinks about adding, and I’m not the only one you’ve gotta worry about, tempted to warn them that you know your way around a pistol and can handle yourself. One bullet, right between the eyes of that fucker. Joel thinks about it all the time. There’s something about his little sweet pea being a badass. And thank god, because he almost lost you.

“Now back to business.”

They discuss the rival crew they think sent two guys to Joel’s trailer, only for Joel and you to kill them. Joel doesn't think the crew is stupid enough to cause any more trouble, but agrees someone has to keep watch Just in case.

Joel almost reminds his men that he holds all the smuggling routes and contacts, just in case they’re concerned enough to pull something. But he doesn't need to say it. He dismisses them and grabs a duffle bag before collecting you from Carter. Carter asks what to do with Harold, and Joel says leave him for a while.

–

When the two of you get back to his trailer, Joel is ready to fuck out his anger. He sees himself in the mirror, chest heaving, veins about to pop, blood splatter on his hairline. God damnit, Harold. Joel showers because he doesn’t want any part of Harold getting close to you. Not even his blood.

You’re in the kitchen getting a glass of water when Joel walks out of the bathroom in just a towel. He crosses the kitchen, drops the towel, and pins you against the counter, pressing his hardness against your ass. He backs up enough to scrunch up your dress and growls, "good girl," when he finds you panty-less and wet. You knew. You were ready for it.

He grunts as he shoves himself into you, and he gives it to you good. "No one’s," he thrusts, "gonna," he grunts "touch ya." He plunges into you twice more, breathing heavily, then adds, “but me.” The power of his hips sends you to your toes with each thrust. He wraps an arm around you to hold you steady and watches over your shoulder as your tits jiggle with each punch of his hips. It doesn’t take you long to come. Then he curls his hands under your arms to hold your shoulders down from the front and begins to pulse with a low groan. He leans his head against yours and cradles it from the other side as he catches his breath, then asks, “you good?”

You nod, “mm-hmm,” and he pulls out, feeling better.

“Good.”

In the following days, things settle down in Joel’s group and get back to normal. The rival crew doesn't show up.

—--

One night, Joel leaves you inside the trailer while he sits out by the fire, as he often does. What you don't know is that he's not just sitting, drinking, and thinking. He’s working on something. He’s been making things for you. He hasn’t given you anything because nothing’s good enough, and it’s probably not going to get any better, but he keeps doing it. Sometimes he feels a little silly, but they’re things that will help both of you. Practical things.

He made a thigh holster for your gun. There was an old one without the straps in the weapons cache which is just a small room of chaos in the stash house, no telling what else is in there. He used part of a belt for the top strap and some black ribbon on the bottom, for the time being. It would be better than nothing, but he hasn't given it to you in case it wouldn’t work. Maybe it doesn't matter. As the weather changes, you'll probably need new clothes, anyway. Maybe even pants, he internally grumbles. Sweaters, too, so your chest won’t be exposed.

Tonight, Joel has another strap of leather with him, one that wasn't right for the holster. He also has a pot of water and a steel nail with a makeshift handle so he doesn’t burn himself. He heats up the tool and uses the hot nail head to emboss the strap with bold letters. He’s been working on it all week, and he’s only on ‘E.’ It’ll be first name only at this rate. You might not wanna wear it anyway, but it’s for your own good.

Joel’s almost lost you twice now. If there’s anything he can do to make someone think twice about touching or taking you, he’ll do it. Because Jackson, may he burn in hell, was right. Joel can’t have his eyes on you every single second. He's told you before: you tell’em you belong to Joel Miller. They’ll back right off when they hear it. But it doesn’t hurt for them to see it, too. And of course Joel wouldn't mind seeing it himself.

Joel’s fingers are too big for work this small. He accidentally makes the vertical line of the E slanted. Ah hell, this whole thing is no good anyway. You may never see it at this rate. But it feels good working with his hands, especially on something he thinks could help keep you safe and keep you his. You're a good girl, his good girl.

He should be thinking strategy, what’s going to happen with these warring crews, but that’s just not where his head’s at.

—--- YOU 🌸🫛—-----

You listen to the fire crackle and pop, longing for Joel to come to bed, longing for him to hold you, and more. He seems to stay outside longer than usual. When he adds a new log to the fire, you get impatient and decide to go out. You put on your shoes and go to the door, pushing it open just an inch. The rail to the stairs is blocking your view, but he's looking down at something. His jaw clenches in the firelight and he raises his eyebrows as he looks up. You slowly open the door, stepping out onto the stairs in your nightie. He puts something down on the ground, out of view.

“‘s’too cold out here, sweet pea. put on a shirt, would ya?" Your heart flutters at the implicit invitation and you return with a flannel over your nightie. As you approach, he takes a swig of whiskey and puts the flask down. His eyes are dark as he watches the flames. He makes room for you but doesn’t take his eyes off the fire as he lets you climb into his lap. You study his face and see something new flickering behind it. Worry. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you don’t.

"When are you gonna come to bed?” you ask.

His brows knit as he looks at you. For a few seconds, he concentrates on picking lint off the flannel and smoothing your nightgown.

“I dunno, sweet pea. Got some stuff to figure out.”

“Can I help?”

He shakes his head no. You put your arms around his neck and rest your cheek against his shoulder. Then you slowly roll your face against him so your lips touch his warm skin and your nose rests on top of his shoulder muscle. You close your eyes and stay like that for a moment. He doesn’t stop you. Then you dare to press your lips ever so slightly into his skin before pulling your face back to look at him, your lips disconnecting with a barely perceptible smack. Joel’s still looking at the fire, but he allows himself a subtle smile as he exhales a silent laugh, then cradles your head. “Go to bed, sweet pea.” He kisses your temple. “I’ll be there in a li’l bit.”

You take the flannel off and get in bed, still smelling like the fire. You think of getting naked, eager to feel Joel however he wants you. But maybe he likes undressing you, and it’s chillier than normal, too. You lay under the covers getting wet and tingly thinking about what he'll do when he comes to bed.

The fire is still blazing. There’s no sign of him putting it out. It doesn't seem like he's coming in soon, but you're too turned on to just go to sleep. You close your eyes, recalling the feeling of Joel’s warm skin on your lips by the fire. The way his eyes sparkled. The way he always opens his arms for you to get in his lap–that seat is always yours whenever you want it.

You think about how handsome he is. Even, or especially when he’s looking rough. All dirty and beat up when he got home that one night, muscles pumped up. His sexy stitches. You play a montage in your head of all the times you’ve heard him yell, seen him stomp around ordering guys to do this or that. How fiercely he protects you. Your lip creeps under your teeth and you close your eyes.

All the way turned on, you slide your hand down between your legs and imagine him walking in and ravaging you. You recall how urgently he fucked you at the kitchen table after he thought you almost died. You recall the time he fucked you naked in missionary and and marked your neck. You try to visualize the look in his eyes.

And then, when you’re just about to come, you remember that one morning. Those few seconds you kissed, when he kissed you back. He had pulled you into him before he knew what he was doing. You still savor that fleeting moment he was grinding against you, his plush lips locked with yours. You can practically feel it. And that’s enough to put you over the edge. You turn your head into the pillow and brace for your orgasm.

—----- JOEL —------

You must think Joel can't hear your pretty little sounds when you touch yourself, but over the crackling of the fire he could swear he hears you moan into a pillow. His nose can't help but twitch into a little smile. He lets the fire die as he finishes the 'E', then he comes inside and washes off the smoke in the shower. By the time he gets in bed, you're asleep on your back with your left arm on your chest.

He carefully gets into the bed, spreading his weight out to not jostle the mattress. He's to your left, lying on his side, facing you. You’re so pretty and peaceful with your eyes closed and your sweet lips just slightly parted. An urge has been growing in his chest. He’s tried to push it away, but it's only grown, and he's afraid he can’t stop it happening.

He can’t bring himself to do it when you’re awake. He can’t let himself see how happy it makes you. The loss feels inevitable, and it gets closer and closer. The panic he felt when FEDRA had you on the ground. The devastation when it sounded like you were shot outside his own trailer. It gets worse every time. And last time, there was something new. Two losses flashed before his eyes. The loss of you (in the present and future), and the loss of what could have been–at least for a while, when he had the chance. The worst part is, he doesn't know which would hurt more.

His eyes fall on your mouth again.

If he does it now, it won’t mean anything. It won’t change anything. If he does it now, maybe this urge will stop pulling at him every time you’re close. And then he can tell himself it never happened. Yeah, if he does it now, it can be like it never happened. Like he never let himself get that close, never gave you hope that he could be anything more than the terrible man he is.

His lip twitches as he watches you sleep. Then his breathing syncs with yours, and for a moment, everything fades away but you and him and the physical need that's tugging at him.

Joel leans over you, careful not to wake you, and he hovers over your pretty face. It's happening. His heart races as his face drifts toward yours, drawn to you like a magnet.

He closes his eyes, presses his lips gently into yours, and something rushes through his blood to every part of his body. Fuck. He's instantly soothed. With your lips still locked, he takes one breath through his nose then pulls away. He takes a deep breath, expecting the buzz to fade, expecting to hate himself. But you're so pretty and your lips were so soft. He almost chokes on his own saliva. He's quickly gotten hard.

Still fast asleep, you sigh and your nose twitches. You hum the prettiest little "mm," and roll over on your right, facing away from him like you normally sleep.

He pinches his eyes shut tight. He has to have you.

–

Joel curls himself around you, inhales your hair, and cups your breast. He presses his cock against you, hardening to full strength by now. He lets out a deep but quiet, "Mmm," not enough to wake you up. The exposed skin of your back and shoulder is so inviting, he's salivating. His arm slides from your breast down your nightie to your mound and you sigh. He lifts his head to see if you're awake as he aimlessly caresses you over your nightie. Your brow furrows with his light touch. Aw, sweet pea, he thinks to himself. You're just so cute. He presses a gentle kiss into your neck where it meets your shoulder, and he begins to ghost your clit through the fabric.

You sigh again, but still don't seem to wake up yet. He presses your mound so your hips tilt for him, and he pulls up the nightgown. He tests you with a finger and finds you wet but pulls back and pauses to add saliva to his tip. He teases your entrance with his cock, and you sigh "Mmm, Joel," as you begin to stir awake. He pushes the curve of his tip just slightly inside, then holds your breast.

He asks, “You 'wake?”

“Mmm,” you answer weakly.

"wake you up?" His cock prods at your tight, wet entrance, pushing in a little further.. He's itching to be inside you, but he's taking his time, captivated by your peacefulness.

Your spine arches and you push back on him, taking another inch of his cock in with a moan as you stir awake. "Joel,” you sigh.

He presses his lips into your neck and lets them linger. You ask, "are you awake?"

"Mm-hmm," he answers, his voice deep and gravely. He groans softly as he pushes his cock into you. He takes a deep breath as your insides make room for him. It dawns on him that he's never taken the time to savor the moment your bodies are joined, but shit, it feels good. He didn't know it could feel so good like this. He’s feeling every groove of you in slow motion. Each centimeter of you greets him with a tight, warm hug. You push back on him with a moan, bringing your bodies together.

Oh, sweet pea. You want it so bad, and you take it so good.

—---YOU 🌸🫛—---

Joel’s cock spreads you apart and he buries his length in you slowly at first, palming your breasts. He pauses, all the way inside you, and removes your nightie so your naked bodies are flush. It feels like a dream. The way he kissed your shoulder, the way he’s fucking you right now with his whole body cradling yours, each thrust so deliberate, you can’t help but still wonder if he’s truly awake. If you're truly awake. He grunts softly each time he bottoms out. His sighs and moans are deep and gravely.

“Sweet pea,” he whispers against your neck, “ohhhh, you — ohh, you take it so good, baby.” His hand slides down your stomach, between your legs. He whispers in your ear, "God DAMN, youfeelsogood,” he inhales sharply, then sighs your name. Your nipples harden and you get goosebumps.

“Joel,” you whimper at his fingers on your clit. The fullness of his cock was enough, and the addition of his hand has you twitching already.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispers, and his voice is so soothing, you relax again. He slows down his pace, his length sliding snugly into your warmth slow enough to feel the drag of his tip inside you. He touches your clit and you whimper again. He adjusts his hand to touch it less directly, pulsing his flattened fingers. That’s what you need. You moan.

“Good girl.”

You wanna ask him again if he’s really awake, but you don’t want to break the spell. You let the silence linger, peppered with moans and sighs from each of you. You’d love for this to last forever. You love every way he gives it to you, but the newness of this is something to savor. After a few minutes, sweat begins to bead and run between your bodies. You’re both breathing heavily. He gropes at your breasts and the entire front of your body, like he can’t get you close enough. His breathing gets ragged. You memorize the feel of his cock dragging thick and slow inside you. Then he adds his hand again. His thrusts become more powerful. “Come for me, I want you to– nnngh.”

“Joel,” you whine.

‘Ohh,” he moans.

“Joel, I’m–”

“Go ‘head, baby—ugghh—-you can do it”

Your upper back presses into his chest. He groans and holds you tight as you convulse against him and choke his cock with your climax. “Ohhhh, baby, mmmm.” He bottoms out and pulses inside you as you’re still coming. He sighs "ohhh," as he fills you up with his warm release. Your body hugs him more with every pulse of his cock.

When you’re both finished coming, your bodies are still joined. You relish the fullness of him inside you. You expect him to pull out any minute, but his breathing regulates with yours.

At some point, Joel's breath stutters abruptly, and you realize he's fallen asleep like this. Holding you close, body curled around you, cock gradually softening inside you. It isn't long until you drift off, too.

Smut continues here: asleep inside

Next major chapter: hunger

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. Please consider commenting or reblogging to show raider Joel your love, even if this post is old. 💖 Love you guys. I love your passion for him. Your engagement motivates me. <333

Friendly reminder that there will be no pregnancy in this fic, Joel was snipped pre outbreak.

----

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snowy-vee · 2 months

Text

ALL MINE (3)

oblivious loser bsf! ellie williams x posesive popular bsf!fem reader

n/a: I may have rushed things! but I prefer to trust the process and cook a little bit more. I hope you all like it. Also, does the taglist works how I've done it or there's another way to do a taglist?

trigger warnings;; mention of vomit (1), idk if catalog it into violence because there's none but intense argue(?

Pt.1 HERE

pt.2 HERE

pt.4 HERE

Inform yourself about what’s happening and how to help! FREE PALESTINE, FREE CONGO.

Ellie was in such a boring class that she barely noticed when it ended and people started to pack up; a few of her classmates were waiting for her at the entrance of the door, so she hurried out with them. They discussed the topics covered in class today as they walked to the dinning hall.

“Ellie!” you called out, causing both her and her classmates to turn; you were on the opposite path from her, so you had to run a bit to reach her side faster. You opened your gym bag and pulled out the folder Ellie had left in your room last night after studying together. “Your folder, you said you needed it today.”

You were dressed in your cheerleading uniform since you had practice right now. Ellie, who had been a little dazed watching the movement of your skirt as you ran, nodded, feeling her cheeks burn, and indeed, you looked so pretty, especially when you said goodbye and turned around, showing the small bow in the back of your hair.

“Sometimes I forget you’re friends with someone so popular. How is it possible that you’re friends with her?” one of them said, mesmerized by your presence, like the rest of the group

“Well, we are, best friends,” Ellie asserted with a smile. It’s true that she was annoyed when people questioned your friendship, but she was happy to have you as a friend, and perhaps she also enjoyed the feeling of envy from others…

“Yeah but she is popular, pretty, hangs out with her kind of cliché, goes to every party invited ¡Hell! She could be an influencer if she wanted to… and you are you”

“Hey, I have my own charm” Ellie said softly feeling a little bit offended “Whatever, we’ve been friend for so many years and that’s what matters”

“Really? Then do you know if the rumours about her and Abby are true? I think it’s the hottest gossip on campus, the cheerleading captain and the captain of the women’s basketball team.”

“They’re all lies, don’t believe any of that. She wouldn’t be with someone like Abby,” Ellie said, dismissing the comments, and she sounded so sure of what she was saying, especially because you assured her of it the same night of the party.

Finally, you had arrived home, you were so tired that as soon as you got to your room, you collapsed on the bed.

“At least change before you throw yourself on the bed,” Ellie leaned against the door of your room. You nodded, kicking off your shoes and getting up to grab your pajamas; you began to undress in front of her, caring little, as it wasn’t the first time.

Ellie, without changing her position, watched as you slowly untied the knot of your top and let it fall, exposing your purple bra, unbuttoning the button of your skirt and slowly lowering the zipper. The skirt fell quickly, revealing your white panties with purple bows matching the bra.

She bit her lip as she looked at your body until she reached your collarbones; there was a hickey, and it looked recent. “Did… Abby do that?”

“Hmm?” You looked at her, she pointed to her collarbone, making you look at yourself in the mirror, seeing the hickey.

‘Shit, I told her not to leave marks.’ you thought rolling your eyes mentally

“Did she do that to you?” Ellie had a slight grimace of disgust as she asked the question, obviously she noticed.

“Of course not! It was some guy I was dancing with.”

“You swear? Because you know that I do not like Abby at all.”

You fucking knew it, that’s why when you were mad at her you used to call Abby. You knew how much it would hurt her, you had no idea why they hated each other and everytime you asked her she said that she had her reasons and was protecting you.

“I swear, I would never do that to you. Abby does want something with me, I think she’s obssesed with me, she’s telling people things that never happen, spreading false rumors,” you sighed as you finished putting on your pajamas, approaching Ellie and putting your hands on her shoulders. “At the party today, she tried to talk to me and go further, but I told her no, to leave me alone, she got really mad and threatened to keep spreading rumors, and I told her I didn’t care.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this? I could’ve defend you.”

“Oh, Ellie, please, I know you can but do you know how many rumors there are about me? I don’t care what others think; I care that you trust me. Do you trust me?”

“Completely,” she smiled before you kissed her on the cheek and let her go while you went to the bathroom to remove your makeup changing the topic.

Ellie smiled too, of course she trusted you, that’s why she was now in front of her classmates denying the rumors, no matter how much you didn’t care, she wasn’t going to let people talk nonsense about you. No one knew you like she did.

“Are you sure? Because Abby has been telling the whole team how much of a naughty bitch, how good she could take her seven inches strap, other nasty things I can’t repeat and that she had video proof…” the guy beside Ellie spoke while looking at his phone.

“What? Unbelievable! Isn’t that like revenge corn?” Another girl said looking at his phone as well.

Her smile dropped. “What did you just say?”

She stopped walking, and with her, the group. The guy who said that showed her his phone, it was a group chat with the football and basketball team, and Abby had sent different pictures that one could only see them once. “You’ve seen them?”

“N-no she hasn’t showed them yet but would do it soon…”

“Can you confirm that she was talking about her”

“It’s pretty much her name and physic description, yeah,” Ellie licked her lips, nodding slowly.

“Does anyone know where Abby is right now?”

(What happened in the fight?)

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You began to climb the stairs to your floor, Ellie and you lived on the first floor so it took less than a minute, phone in your hand, calling Ellie for the twelfth time. Since you finished practice, you had been calling her to come pick you up without getting a response, not even a message.

By the time you were turning the keys and opening the door, your whole body was filled with worry, but seeing her shoes, you felt a little relieved. “Ellie? Hey, if you’re not going to come pick me up, let me know beforehand! And answer my calls even if it’s just for a second! You had me worried.”

You took off your shoes and left the keys at the entrance, noticing her backpack lying on the floor with all her things scattered about. You sighed, leaving your bag on the kitchen counter and crouching down to start picking up her things. “Ellie?”

You finished picking up and placed everything inside. The door to her room was halfway open, and you could see the light was on. “Don’t you hear me calling your name?”

You entered the room, placing the backpack next to the wardrobe. Ellie was sitting on the edge of her bed with her back to you. The atmosphere felt so tense that it made you involuntarily swallow.

“I want you to be honest with me,” she said in an intimidating tone, suddenly a shiver ran down your spine. “And I want the truth, if you lie to me…”

She let out an incredulous laugh. “If you lie to me again…” Your breath caught, thinking about what lie you had told Ellie, all small except for… Impossible, Abby wouldn’t spill, you had Abby under control.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s wrong?” You tried to approach, but Ellie raised her hand.

“Stay where you are, or move away from there.”

“Ellie-”

“Shut the fuck up!” she interrupted you. “Did you or did you not fuck Abby?”

What you were praying that wasn’t the problem was exactly the problem. You didn’t know where to hide, your legs seemed to want to flee, you wished the ground would swallow you up at that very moment. You tried to say something, but your lips were trembling. Were you going to lie again? No. It was obvious that she already knew everything; she just wanted to hear it from you.

“Did you or did you not fuck Abby?” Ellie repeated the question, now more demanding and intimidating, making your eyes start to fill with tears. You hated confrontations, especially if it was your fault.

“Yes,” you whispered, looking at the ground and clasping your hands, embarrassed by how ashamed you were starting to feel.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“Oh my fucking god, Ellie! Yes, I fucked her, I fucking did!” you exclaimed, tired of how tense your body was becoming. She nodded slowly, getting up from her bed and turning to face you. “What the fuck? What have you done?”

Her lip was split with dried blood on it, she also had a bruise next to her eye and a split eyebrow. Your concerned face made her chuckle. “If this worries you, you should see Anderson.”

You unconsciously approached, trying to touch the wounds, but Ellie stopped your hand at that moment. You were maintaining such intense eye contact that it seemed like you were communicating. You were asking her to let you clean her wounds and disinfect them; she was asking you how you could betray her like this.

“You lied to my fucking face. Was it funny?” Her grip felt more painful. “What? Were you two laughing at me behind my back?” You two were close, but Ellie started taking steps closer to you, so you had no choice but to take some steps back until your were was pressed against the wall.

“It’s not like that, Ellie… my wrist- you are hurting me,” you said, feeling tears running down your face.

“Not like that? And how the fuck was it?” She screamed, making you feel smaller and making you cry more. “Explain it to me! Because I can’t understand why the fuck my best friend went behind my back to fuck the person I hate the most out of everybody on the fucking earth. Oh God! I knew you were a whore, but I never thought you would sacrifice our friendship for some sex.”

You couldn’t answer as you cried; for a moment, Ellie loosened her grip on your wrist, and you could see her eyes also filling with tears. You couldn’t hate yourself more at that moment.

“Why? I just want to know. There has to be an explanation for you to do this to me.”

“It meant nothing, I swear, it was just a few times, nothing serious,” you tried to excuse yourself, wiping your tears with your hands, but it was useless, they kept falling.

“Did she give you the hickey?” You sighed exhausted, looking at the other side, but she grabbed your jaw, forcing you to face her and look her in the eyes. “Answer.”

You nodded. Ellie let go of you, shaking her head, raising her hands in the air, defeated, watching you slide until you were sitting on the floor.

“Incredible… When was the last time except for the party?”

“That morning… She was the one who drove me to class; we did it on the couch. But then I ignored her once we got to class, that’s why you saw me arguing with her in the hallway.” You didn’t even know why you were giving so much explanation.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Ellie really wanted a clear answer, but it seemed so pathetic to tell her that you were fucking Abby to mentally punish her for annoying you. It was your way of torturing her without her finding out because many things Ellie did annoyed you, especially when she didn’t do things your way. You knew perfectly well how she would react if she found out, but you never thought it would hurt you so much. You shrugged, looking at her; you didn’t know what to say, but you knew what not to say.

“I can’t see you right now,” Ellie said, grabbing her jacket and leaving the room.

“Wait, where are you going?” you asked, almost crawling to follow her. “Ellie!”

You shouted her name, but the door slamming shut was enough to make you shut up and leave you there, alone on the floor, crying, and you could have kept going if it weren’t for the sound of a phone. Ellie’s phone.

You approached the bed where it was, seeing that she was being called. Dina was calling her and also sending messages; you managed to read one above:

Dina<333

Of course, you can come to my house, but are you…

As if someone had kicked you in the stomach, you ran to the bathroom to vomit until you couldn’t anymore. You had pushed Ellie towards Dina yourself.

No, that’s not how the story should continue. Everything was going so well. After the party, Dina started ignoring Ellie all week, and she barely wondered why the raven-haired girl wasn’t talking to her like before, because Ellie was busy looking out for you.

She would leave her classes directly to find you, not giving Abby a chance to talk to you. She accompanied you at the beginning of your classes even if it meant she was late for hers… She was there for you 24/7, and it was so perfect for you. What was the mistake you made? Did you make it, or was it Abby? It was her. She ruined your precious environment and your relationship with Ellie.

At least that’s what you thought as you grabbed your keys and quickly left the house. Oh, you were going to fuck Abby. Fuck her UP.

taglist;; @boobdrug @lovelyxbaby @pedropascalsbbg @cherryimaa

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tiyoin · 1 month

Text

pt .3 | 📍pt. 4

this chapter is disorganized cause i refuse to proofread

there was a festering rot in your heart….

you couldn’t explain it.

you were jealous, you were angry, you were frustrated. most importantly; you were tired.

the days mushed together the more you rotted in bed. your stomach seemed to shrink the less you ate, your eyes began to sag the less you slept.

grim has been a doll, really. always trying to drag you on adventures, always tugging you to go to the monstro with him, or just staying back with you to lay in bed.

the company was much appreciated.

yuu tried to help, they really did… but with being so popular there was only so much screen time the protagonist could give you.

there was some resentment.

and there were the reasoning you told yourself;

why didn’t they invite you out with them?

your social life isn’t their responsibility. they have a life outside of you.

how come they didn’t introduce you to their friends? the only ones you knew were adeuce

they’re allowed to have other friends too, sevens why are you so clingy??

why is it okay for them to do spontaneous plans, yet when you do it it’s a bad time?

they’re a busy bee, just like you’re supposed to be… so they have to work twice as hard when your mental health plummeted.

and yet they do it with a hearty smile a word of understanding. cheering you up momentarily with their kind yet blunt words. telling you to take all the time you mean and that they don’t mind any of the work. truly.

maybe it was guilt that stopping you from asking yuu to introduce you to their friends. i mean, they already do so much and yet here you are. a leech.

sucking off their social life, work life, and home life. maybe you weren’t made to have any friends? maybe you didn’t even deserve to be yuu’s friend.

the muffled sounds of the classroom slowly turned to whispers the more you walked along your brains pathways. the more you discovered more negative things about yourself.

why were you here? there could’ve been anyone else here and yet it was you. if there was someone else here they would be more social, everyone would be having a more fun time, and maybe they could be of use to yuu.

maybe they could’ve played more of a role in the overblots than you, after all you just planned it. the group deciding before hand to not let you in on any of the ‘dangerous missions’ that could get you seriously hurt.

yet that’s how they made friends with each other. if you could make friends that way, you would put the blot in people’s stones yourself.

you sighed, head shaking in silent disagreement.

you looked up at the board a few rows in front of you. it was history class, a class you rather enjoyed. albeit the times and dates weren’t my your favorites. but just hearing about all the events in the past, all the tragic wars, the culture, how people lived in the olden days with magic.

you could only daydream about being some kind of royalty and having lovers fight over your hand with a magical duel.

your imagination slowly started to slip into the chosen daydream.

“y/n!” trein’s face appears- alarm bells sounded through your head as you teared your eyes away from your textbook and resting them on the angry, old man.

“because you love the textbook so much, how about you tell us why kind na’jeri decided to stop the caravans from passing through oasis city for several hundred years after the war of ‘the watering hole’”

trein usual scowling face held a hint of amusement, eyebrow quirked up as the top of his lip started curling.

crap. fuck. you knew this. you knew this. after reading about the handsome king na’jeri you know exactly why he did that.

and yet… the question was wrong, the information was wrong. king na’jeri didn’t not just ban caravans from entering the city, he completely locked the city up. no one could get in or out for several hundred years all because of his paranoia.

yet you froze.

eyes staring back at him in horror as you felt your body heat up. you could physically feel the heat slowly travel along your neck and to your face. where you swore you were turning red with how much you were blushing.

you mouth gaped open a slightly closed, like a fish out of water as your eyes flickered between him and the board. between the board and your textbook.

“ you know this y/n.”

no the fuck you didn’t.

if you did then you wouldn’t be floundering like a fish to get an answer.

and it’s just your luck that the first day you came back to school you would get ambushed by trein. you have gym next and you were surely positive the ghost of vargas was haunting you through the classroom’s window.

YOU KNOW THIS

yet with each passing second more pens stopped and more eyes wandered to you. watching you.

you tightened your fist, suddenly feeling like a monkey in a zoo as all the humans picked and poked at you. laughed and sneered at you.

“u- uhh- uh, king na’jeri.. he ih, decided to close off the city to the car-caravans-“ you cleared your throat a phlegm and took a shallow, yet deep breathe.

deep enough for you to calm your nerves, shallow enough to not make your breathe look obvious.

“he decided to cut off all paths to the kingdom instead of just the kingdom itself. the king was ex-extremely paranoid that the devastation from the war, and another war would happen again if they let outsiders in.” you paused, quick to have your mind catch up.

trein just gave you a nod as the mischief left his face, he opened his mouth to keep going but you weren’t done.

“so-“

“go-

there was an awkward lash of sentence starters.

the boys sitting on either side of you tensed. it was never a good idea to cut off trein. ever. it was never a good idea to talk when he was teaching, let alone talking as that gave you a one way ticket to detention.

you apologized sheepishly, eyes breaking from his as you went to back to mindlessly scanning your textbook. trying to appear busy as you waited for you punishment.

“if you have something to add, then go ahead” looking up, trein gave you a nod as

“s-soo he didn’t just ban caravans from entering the city. in a book i read, they said that he prevented everyone from entering and leaving the city for several hundred years because the paranoia ate at his blood line. there were so many casualties that roughly around 40% of the population was wiped out so to prevent that, the king and the royal family decided to take radical measures..”

“beautifully put y/n.” he smiled, nodding in approval as a spark ignited through your chest, you fought back a giddy smile. you felt so energized. you content...

your smile faltered.

you can’t remember the last time you were so happy.

grabbing your pen, you went to your notepad and started taking notes. started doodling. started doing whatever to distract yourself from the feeling.

“y/n, stay after class for me?” you paused, the grip you had on your thick textbook loosened. curling your fingers against the perked spine, you managed to save it before it crashed down onto your seat.

“ye- yea..” looking back, you shared a look with yuu as adeuce around them started chatting.

waving off the trio, you said you were fine and that they didn’t have to wait. you’d hate for them to miss lunch.

they started walking off the podium, as ace, yuu, and grim all bantering about something you didn’t bother to tune in for.

you weren’t involved in the conversation after all.

“hey y/n” you looked back up, no, down as you saw deuce in front of you. he had an uneasy look on his face as his arms were tightly holding his books against his chest. a little blush adorning his cheeks as he looked up.

“you’re more than welcome to come with us to the cafeteria, you know that right?”

puzzled at where this was coming from, your eyes watched the backs of the redhead and the ravenette as they laughed merrily through the doorway.

you looked back at a now determined deuce, “it get that it’s hard to adjust to a nice environment, believe i know” his smile faltered.

the eyes were the window to the soul as you saw nothing but compassion, understanding in the murky depths of his blue eyes.

the heat came back as you looked to trein. he was sat down at his desk writing. yet this pen seemed to hover too long in the air to be considered ‘writing.’

“i- uh, yeah!” you blurted out, nodding as that was the only thing you could trust yourself doing.

quickly packing up your stuff, you sped down the isle and down the steps and down to deuce.

you should’ve stayed up there, was the first thought you had once you were in front of the fellow freshman.

fixing your hair, you looked back to trein, whose pen was writing a mile a minute, showing no previous signs of stopping.

“ye- yeah! uh, i’ll definitely remember that!” you took another deep breath, finding the courage to once again look him in the eye.

it made everything too… real for you. your body surged uncomfortably as you once again thanked him. “i appreciate it deuce, truly”

the smile on your face felt so natural, so… real that you couldn’t help but look up at the crimson boy.

you could almost chuckle at how the color of his hair contrasted with the red paint on his face. it looks like they missed a rose.

“uh- ye- yeah! no problem! i’m gonna go now” and with that, he ran off.

not before tripping over himself, a loud screech from his sneakers echoing the lecture hall. he looked back bashful, before he sprinted out.

“i’ve never seen a boy in this class get so flustered. and me calling on them unprepared doesn’t count” you brought your attention back to trein.

and yet a horrifying thought bubbled in your head.

you didn’t pass the bechdel test.

i got lazy. plus i have class el oh el

tag list: @xingyunny

#oh my god azul and jamil sandwich #HAHAHAH OMG I HAVE PLANS I HAVE PLANS #twisted anxiety 🌀#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin 🔎#deuce x reader #deuce spade x reader #silver x reader #kalim x reader #azul x reader #leona x reader #malleus x reader #idia x reader #vil x reader

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literaila · 2 months

Text

small talk

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru has never learned the definition of "small talk" and you don't care to teach him

a/n: i was requested to hold off on the angst, so i decided to comply (very gracious, i know) so take a flashback fic, in which our characters lack all of their trauma (also I'm working on the next actual part and it... might take a bit)

last part | next part

second year, month two.

“c’mon, nanami, you owe us," you're saying, laying across the couch in nanami's room, feet sore from walking around all day.

it's only noon, and you already feel like you've suffered through several weeks of this. your only two classmates siding with each other almost always.

except for now, because you're pouting. trying to convince kento that being a recluse will get him nowhere in life--you would know.

“no, i do not.”

you roll your eyes. “sorry? who sliced the curse in two before we even got the chance to look?" you ask, rhetorically. "oh, you? that’s right.”

nanami shakes his head, but you see his lips twitch—about to give (another) involuntary apology. if you keep up the whining, he'll probably give you his firstborn.

“it could be fun,” haibara adds, chewing on some weird candy he picked up at the convince store by your mission. it smells like a rotted corpse, which is what you told him when he offered to share.

“i seriously doubt that.”

“well, i seriously don’t care,” you tell him, “this is the first time we’ve been invited. unless you want to spend the next two years getting wedgies—“

“gojo can’t even touch me,” he argues, arms crossed. his eyes are unyielding as he stares at you. “and geto is more respectable than that.”

haibara laughs, probably at the mention of a wedgie.

“well, i wouldn’t know. but i’ll find out tonight when we all go with them to… wherever they’re going.”

because you showed up a couple of weeks after the two of them, much to your dismay, you haven't become acquainted with your seniors or any of their quirks. it's honestly unfair. but neither of them seems to care about their upper hand or the fact that you're tired of being stuck around them all of the time.

“i have plans.”

“no you don’t,” you snort. “we’re your only friends.”

“that’s not relev—“

haibara hangs on nanami’s shoulder, smiling at him with his puppy dog eyes. “kento, we have to go. i want to ask geto a couple of questions, and y/n’s already annoyed.”

you huff, crossing your arms. you have a good reason to be upset.

nanami looks at you, then sighs. “i already told you, it was a grade four, it didn’t even look ‘cool’ like the one you and haibara exorcised last week.”

“i’m not talking to you.”

haibara laughs, going to sit down next to you, ruffling your hair. it’s irritating, how nonchalant he is about this. like nanami didn’t steal your mission right in front of you.

and kind of adorable. you lean into him, resting the side of your body against his arm. maybe his energy will mix with yours.

“y/n, i already apologized.”

you turn your head away from him.

“this is very immature.” he gives haibara a pleading look.

you can feel it as he laughs against you.

nanami sighs. “fine. this once. if you ever ask again—“

you jump up, moving beside him to squeeze him into a makeshift hug (which he doesn’t return). “i knew you’d come around,” you say. because you did. nanami is notoriously easy to break, despite his untouchable demeanor.

nanami sighs again. more forlorn. “this is going to be a disaster.”

and obviously, haibara takes this opportunity to move to his other side, participating in the group hug.

in all honesty, you’d expected more.

it’s not that you idolize your upperclassmen—if they can even be classified as such—but seriously, after a year they haven’t come up with anything more entertaining than dragging someone’s tv into the common room and playing mario cart?

you figured there'd be more excitement here. a lot more break-ins, and more chances for heroics.

but, you remind yourself, trying to sit pleasantly, this is the first time any of you have been invited. the first time you've spent with geto, Gojo, and shoko without yaga hanging over your break, threatening all of them to be nice. you just want a chance not to be the only new one around. the least educated, weakest.

so you might as well try and enjoy it while you can.

besides nanami and haibara, you don’t have a lot of friends. you didn’t, even before you started at jujutsu high. you barely even had a family.

so you’ll take what you can get (even if it's three people who speak in code and seem to do nothing but fight).

“oh, how’d that mission you guys went on go?” geto asks after he’s beaten haibara at a fourth race. “where was it?”

“harajuku,” nanami says, sounding more like he’s telling you his grandma just died.

“get anything cool?” gojo asks, leaning his head back against the couch so he can look at you upside down. his sunglasses are sliding off of his nose, and you blink.

“we left pretty quickly,” haibara answers, for all of you. “it was just a grade four.”

“they sent all of you for that?” shoko, who is pretending to read some sort of biology book right in front of the tv, raises her brow at you.

at least there’s some common ground there. being the only two girls in a fifty-foot radius creates its own sort of bond.

you’re about to remark something snarky about nanami and his control issues, but haibara is eager to please, so he says to her, “nah, it was supposed to be harder. grade two, they said.”

“been there,” she answers.

geto raises a brow, but his eyes don't move from the screen. “no you haven’t?”

“listening to gojo’s story about that ‘grade one’ he ‘exorcized’ is basically like being there.”

“hey, that was true!”

the two of them give the boy a look, then resume their activities. nanami taking haibara’s place—not without some convincing—and the rest of you watching.

wow, what a life for jujutsu sorcerers.

you laugh at the thought and ignore the weird look shoko gives you.

eventually, gojo makes his way from across the room, his chin resting on geto's temple, and sits on the floor next to you, long limbs getting in the way.

you barely glance at him with your brows raised, then look back to the screen. nanami is surprisingly good at it. and you find gojo kind of... bizarre. he's always laughing, always leaning against something, and just his presence right next to yours feels like an intrusion.

“so,” gojo whispers to you, schemingly. “gabumons better than agumon, right?”

you turn to him, tilting your head. “what?”

“kind of an unpopular sentiment,” he adds, “but true. i mean, c’mon, metalgarurumon? freezing breath? so cool,” he says, like you’re supposed to know what it means. he's got that same grin on--the one you've watched from across the courtyard, shaking his hand, and probably even that time you caught him napping on the dining table.

“…what?”

“satoru, leave her alone,” geto says because this must be a regular occurrence.

“i’m just making small talk!”

shoko snorts. “i don’t think you’ve ever talked small a day in your life.”

gojo opens his mouth but apparently has nothing to say about that.

he sighs, leaning his chin on a hand, and watching the screen again. clearly, his classmates have ruined all of his fun. how is he supposed to mess with you in peace with them around?

when he catches you staring at him a moment later—mostly bewildered because you’ve heard many rumors about satoru gojo, and none of them involve him being a grumbler—he grins. “your turn.”

“to what?” you say, hoping he doesn’t mean the game.

he leans toward you. “to make small talk.”

“i don’t think your turns over.”

“you’re supposed to continue the conversation. answer my question…” he hints.

“you didn’t ask a question,” you say, “just made a statement about what’s-your-mon and who’s-your-mon.”

he looks around, outraged, like you’ve said something completely insane.

you cut in before he can add anything, “and you know that small talk is supposed to be about, like, the weather, right?”

“the weather? you’d rather talk about that than cyborg digimon?”

“…i think so?”

“ignore him,” shoko calls.

but you can’t. there's something about him that gets under your skin. and, it's satoru gojo, he's intriguing in his own, annoying way.

“fine. how do you like the weather?” he asks, tapping his fingers against his chin, smiling at you again.

you pinch your lips together. “it’s fine. rainy.”

he throws his head back, groaning. “see? this is boring. and so is this game, because suguru just beats everyone.”

“i think nanami won the last round.”

he gives you a ‘really?’ look, and you shrug.

“do you guys do this a lot?”

“do what?”

you gesture towards the tv. “sit around and do nothing.”

gojo scoffs. “this is very important, you know. we take video games very seriously.”

you take a look at geto—who’s sticking his tongue out while he handles the controller—and haibara, who’s pointing at nanami’s face and laughing.

you must’ve missed something. not that you've been paying much attention to the game, anyway.

you've been mostly obsessing over your expressions, trying not to say anything out of place, and figure out how to speak to any of these people without sounding foolish.

which, so far, hasn't gone well.

“what do you guys do, then?" gojo asks, sarcastically. "meditation circle?”

you snort. “study, usually. or hand-to-hand combat. haibara and i need the practice.”

“shoko won’t spar with me and suguru can’t anymore after we accidentally put a hole in the gym wall last time.”

“that was you? how do you accidentally break through concrete?”

he shrugs, winking at you. “suguru’s flying frog things are heavy.”

“flying frogs?” you say, skeptically.

“oh, child,” satoru pats you on the head. “you’ve got lots to learn.”

“apparently,” you say, and turn back to the tv, and the debate the four of them are having about character types or something.

but gojo doesn’t move from his spot. he sits next to you for the next hour, and you learn, for the first time, just how insufferable he is.

especially with his smile, which you find yourself staring at every couple of minutes.

next part | series masterlist

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pearlfeline · 8 months

Text

truth or dare

pairing: draco malfoy x female reader

word count: 1,228

summary: slytherins throw a party and play truth or dare. draco can't seem to play correctly when it comes to you, blaise becomes a wingman, and to pansy, you're a sleepy nerd.

a/n: ughhh i don't really like this because a party just seems so unrealistic to me lol. every time i see those scenarios it doesn't seem convincing to me at all. i didn't add copious amounts of drinks and partying to this because i truly think despite them being who they are, the most they would do is share a bottle together as a small group and not throw a party because they dislike mostly everyone. also, they're still kids. sorry if that ruins the entire thing and this sucks!!! although, i really liked the idea of draco not being able to bring himself to give you a mean dare like he would to the rest of his friends. enjoy.

Your nose was deep in a book when you heard a faint jingling.

“Mrrph..”

You look behind you and see your cat swatting at the window. Your owl was here.

“Oh, Pluto leave that poor bird alone.” You get up and take the parchment from your owl’s beak.

“Thank you, Buttons.”

Buttons blinks once before flying out swiftly.

Once you unravel the parchment, you recognize the handwriting instantly.

“Small party in the common room tomorrow night. Don’t tell the stupid Gryffindors and just come downstairs for once. P.S. Don’t sleep right after dinner like an old crone and attend. I’m tired of talking to the same buffoons every day.”

You roll your eyes. Of course, he sends a letter over something he could’ve told you in passing.

“Wanker.” You mumbled, tossing the letter on your bed.

Of course, you’ll attend but there’s no reason to act giddy about it. At least on the outside. How you feel on the inside is nobody’s business surely.

The next day, you expect to walk into the common room with a circle of a few people, but you were met with bottles scattered across the floor.

Draco’s platinum hair stands out immediately despite the lights being dimmed.

“So you took my advice and stayed awake until curfew! Must be a new record for the old miss.” Draco chuckles to himself.

“Quite the dramatic invitation.” You look around and see scared first years peering through the steps.

“Is this your idea of a small party?”

Draco shrugged. “It’s just Slytherins. Whoever chooses to come is invited.”

“Obviously they’re going to show. Everybody who’s here loves to kiss up to the famous Draco Malfoy.”

Draco smirked.

“Not everybody” Blaise comes out of nowhere, sipping whatever from his cup.

“Do you not see how bad of an idea this is? The first years are trying to sleep.”

Blaise nods. “I didn’t want it to be this big either… or this loud.”

Draco rolls his eyes, giving a firm slap to Blaise’s shoulder. “Lighten up Zabini. It’s just a little over thirty people. Not my fault that’s twice as many people you know.”

Blaise takes that as his cue to get another drink and shakes his head before breaking away.

“Pansy is whining about playing truth or dare. Are you coming or not?” Draco’s eyes flick to the dorms.

“You threw a party just so we could all go upstairs and ignore it?”

“Somebody had to bring the drinks.” Draco walks past you, ironically slipping a bit on the steps. The younger kids move out of the way, scurrying back to their own rooms, trying to avoid a lecture out of fear.

You reluctantly follow Draco to his dorm room. Pansy and everyone else were already comfortably lounging, laughing about someone’s misfortune if you had to guess. Blaise followed quickly behind you, shutting the door.

“What happened?” He sits down near Pansy, who was obviously tipsy already.

“Truth or dare Zabini..” She giggles.

Blaise sighs. “Truth.”

You settle down on the corner of Draco’s bed, admittedly excited about the outcome of Blaise’s choice.

Draco sits on the floor, not before putting his sweater where he wanted to sit.

“…Boring… But fine.” Pansy, previously laying on her stomach, sits up and ponders a good question before smiling mischievously.

“Who in this room would you most likely snog..?”

Blaise pauses for a brief moment. “Pansy if you wanted to you should’ve just asked me.”

Pansy face-plants into her hands, groaning. Though, you had a feeling she was smiling under there.

After a few turns, it was eventually Draco’s turn.

“Y/L/N. Pick one.”

“Dare.”

Draco smiles at your answer but it soon fades as he thinks of what to say next.

“You should..”

The circle exchanges looks with one another.

“I dare you to…” Draco’s eyes dart around the room.

“Chug your drink…” Draco muttered.

“I.. I never got a drink.” You replied.

Blaise gives Draco a sympathetic look, before handing you his cup. “Here.”

You hesitantly take the cup.

Goyle furrows his eyebrows. “Malfoy, you just made me sneak outside and bang on Gryffindor’s entryway, why is her dare so-“

“Shut up.” He snapped.

You start to sip an already half-drunken cup, grimacing at the taste.

You hold it all in your cheeks, shaking your head in pain.

“You’ve got to swallow it eventually love.” Blaise takes back the cup cautiously.

You could only manage a squeak in response before forcing it down in an excruciating gulp.

“Not a fan?” Pansy laughed.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be…”

Draco purses his lips to hide his smile, suddenly finding that looking down at his shoes and playing with the laces was worth occupying his time. Despite looking forward to this very scenario all day, he couldn’t bring himself to give you a humiliating dare.

“I don’t know how you all drink that stuff so often.” You smack your lips, still tasting the remnants of whatever drink it was.

“Was that your first drink?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Of course it was. I don’t have access to these… alcohols…” You shrink slightly at how inexperienced and awkward you sounded.

Draco only scoffs. “We’ll, no wonder you couldn’t even chug.”

You glare at him, shoving him lightly. “There wasn’t even enough for me to possibly do that.”

“You looked like a newborn deer trying to drink from its first puddle.” Pansy let out a cackle before covering her mouth.

You close your eyes before rolling back into the bed, grabbing a pillow to shove into your face. It took you a moment to realize you weren’t in your own bed.

Draco’s smell of shampoo seeps through the pillow and into your nose. You flinch slightly but keep the pillow there, wanting to still hide from everyone. Though the mixed smell of fresh laundry and rosewood was an added bonus.

Pansy slaps the foot hanging off Draco’s bed.

“Ow!” You muffle through the pillow.

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already!”

Honestly, you were getting tiresome. You rarely stay up and sinking back into a bed didn’t help. You didn’t respond and just closed your eyes.

Blaise looks over at Draco, trying to basically have a telepathic conversation. They both somehow understood each other perfectly.

“Pansy I think we should go to your room and finish where we left off.” Blaise holds his cup with his teeth, one hand pulling her away and the other opening the door.

Draco’s other minions just stared blankly, completely oblivious to what he was implying.

“Get out.” Draco quietly hissed, making them jump and rush out, almost squeezing into Blaise and Pansy between the door frame. All mumble incoherently trying to push each other.

In between this time, you actually did doze off. Draco turns back around to hear your breathing slightly get heavier as if you were on the verge of snoring. He sighs, lifting the pillow off your face and placing it under your head.

“I bet Dumbledore sleeps later than you.” He mumbled.

Draco pulls the blanket from under you and tucks you in. He could’ve almost burst out laughing by how you sleep so easily, but he decides against waking you up after Blaise basically gave him two favors tonight. Draco slumps onto Blaise’s bed, staying up as long as he could, making sure you were able to sleep uninterruptedly throughout the night.

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desertduality · 5 months

Text

HELLO soo I was inspired by @stiffyck and the most recent secret life episode to write some tcd angst set in secret life <33 Enjoy :D

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read there

———----

Scar, despite all odds against him, does hold his own for a little while. Gem is after him, bloodthirsty and intent, for reasons that Scar doesn’t know. She traps his base, she shoots at him, stabs at him — and he survives it all, up until he doesn’t. There are four of them by then, and they hunt him down and pick him off. And he dies.

These games are fun, is the thing. They get together and they make silly little groups with playful rivalry’s and eventually someone wins. It’s fun. Scar has fun, usually.

None of them know about the world he came from. That lonely, ravaged, barren world. The zombies had been everywhere, fast and stubborn. Scar had been young and hurt and alone, and had learned to run on broken legs before he learned how to read.

It’s been a long time ago, now. The memories sneak up on him far less often than they used to, and he’s better. This though, this thing with Gem and the others, it’s hitting him in places that still hurt; places that will always hurt.

Scar is fresh off his first death, still reeling from being hunted down, and Cleo and Grian are telling him he can’t stay.

“You’re not one of us,” Grian says, and they’re just playing a game, but Scar is confused. He’d been invited, hadn’t he? But then Cleo had taken it back.

“Scar!” Bdubs is a distance behind him, sitting atop a horse and calling his name urgently. “Scar, we need to talk to you.”

Scar goes, and hears whispering behind him, something about zombies and spreading. It makes a bit of nerves flare up in his stomach, but he ignores them. He is far enough removed from the past that hearing the word won’t send him into hysterics. He’s even recovered enough that he can handle the sight of a few zombies, even if his heart rate elevates until they’re gone. He’s better, he is.

Bdubs takes him back to the others, and they explain to him what’s been going on. It’s Gem’s task to spread the Boogeyman curse, one by one, to everyone. He suddenly feels a little bad for trying to burn the book earlier, because this sounds like a good time. Causing some chaos, killing some people, making each other laugh — it's what they’re all here for. It’s why they play the game.

(There’s a small but persistent inkling of unease living behind his rib cage at the fact that they’re comparing themselves to zombies, to an apocalypse, but he ignores it. It’s not important enough to mention it, and he doesn’t want to ruin everyone’s fun.)

They get Etho, and Gem praises him for it, and Scar tries not to compare the fortress the others are defending to the bunkers he used to raid. His brain still makes the connection, as much as he wishes it didn’t. The memories trickle in slowly, making him more and more on edge as the day goes on. It will be over soon, Scar tells himself. Then he can rest, and go back to being better.

Joel has a zombie spawner to farm XP. Scar has used it, has been inside it. He’d been expecting zombies, then. He doesn’t expect it when Joel throws down sixty-four zombie eggs in a row.

The thin and fraying thread tying him together snaps.

Everyone is screaming and yelling, running, chasing after Joel. There are zombies as far as he can see, in groups and alone, groaning and gurgling into the night. It fills his ears, wraps itself around his mind like a vice, catapults him back to when he was just a kid, fighting the world with his teeth bared and no one at his back.

Everything goes fuzzy and distant, the noises muffled beneath his heartbeat and heaving breaths echoing endlessly in his ears. He slows to a stop, chest heaving and eyes wide, skin going cold and numb with terror. Nothing makes sense. Everything is wrong.

There’s something in his hand, and he looks at it, panicked tears prickling at his eyes. He’s holding a sword, and an anguished, confused noise rips itself from his throat. Where’s his gun? Guns are better, guns are safer; guns mean he doesn’t have to get close.

The moaning of the undead is growing louder, they’re coming for him, and he stumbles forward with gasping breaths, eyes flitting around wildly as he searches for a place to hide. The ground is filled with craters, zombies in every direction, and he blinks desperately to clear his blurry vision, pushing forward with all the desperate agony of a man living on borrowed time.

He thinks he hears someone call his name, but it can’t be real, it’s just a memory, it’s just his stupid, persistent hope manifesting itself at the worst possible time. He has to get back to his base, his bunker, but nothing looks familiar, no direction looks like the correct way to go—

He runs anyway, passing by a giant stone statue and weaving around holes in the ground and slashing blindly at anything that looks like it’s moving. He spots a tower in the distance, oddly shaped and oddly colored, but a structure nonetheless, and he runs for it. The zombies are here and they never left and he never left and he runs.

He only makes it halfway.

There’s a zombie in one of the craters, and Scar doesn’t see it, is too wrapped up in his tunnel vision, and it grabs at his ankle as he walks by. He hits the ground, hard, his knee hitting first before everything else. He hears a sharp crack, and knows it’s broken.

He twists his head around wildly, tearing his leg out of the zombies cold grip with a yell of pain, dragging himself out of reach just in time for others to bear down on him. His vision becomes a swirling kaleidoscope of hands and teeth, of skin and claws, and he opens his mouth and screams.

(He won’t know until later, but everyone near spawn hears it. Everyone hears it, and freezes, and turns to look. It sounds like pure terror, like the final cry of a dying man. None of them will ever forget it.)

He swings his sword wildly, slashing and scrambling to get away, but his knee hurts and they’re pushing him down, he can’t get up—

He hears yelling, distantly, but that still can’t be right, no one else is here, no one else can save him—

Scar rolls to the side, and falls into one of the craters, dirt and pebbles sprinkling down on top of him when he hits the ground with a dull thud. He shouts through clenched teeth as the landing jostles his leg, but still pushes himself up and back until his back hits the solid side of the hole. Grass and dirt is still clinging above him, forming somewhat of an overhang. They can’t attack from directly above. Scar grips his sword in violently shaking hands and waits for the hoards to find him.

He still hears the voices, but he shouldn’t be hearing voices, he’s alone here, he hasn’t heard a human voice not his own since he was six, and he closes his eyes tightly for a few seconds, willing himself back to reality. Something drops to the ground in front of him, and Scars eyes wrench themselves back open, landing on the shadowed figure of a person coming his way. He has both hands on his sword, and he points it at the approaching zombie.

It speaks. It says his name.

“Scar,” the figure says, a deep, frantic concern in their voice. “Are you— What happened? Are you okay?”

The cloud that had been blocking the moon slowly drifts away, and Scar gets a good look at the figure — the person — in front of him. He’s human, he’s alive, and Scar knows him, he knows who it is, but he can’t be here, he’s not supposed to be here. This is the world where Scar is young and alone. No one else belongs here.

The past and the present collide angrily in his head; he doesn’t know what’s real. He doesn’t even know this person's name. The person is crouching a few feet away, empty hands extended imploringly, worry plain in his eyes. Scar’s eyes catch on his shirt, black with gold accents, and can’t help but think that something’s missing. A letter, he thinks, but can’t quite remember which one.

It doesn’t matter. He’s not really here.

He must’ve said some of that out loud, because the man’s face drops, something heartbroken pinching at his eyes. Scar feels bad, and doesn’t know why.

“I’m here, Scar,” says the man, voice trembling. “I’m real. You’re okay.”

The man is a liar. Scar shakes his head, a trembling exhale shaking his tense frame. The sword remains steady.

“No,” Scar says, voice strained and breaking. “No, you— you can’t be. Not here.”

“Scar—“

“Stop saying my name,” Scar begs. “I don’t know— I don’t know who you are.”

It’s only half true. He recognizes him, knows he’s a friend, but his brain is rebelling against the very thought that he could exist in a place like this. In the place Scar grew up. No. Everyone was either dead or undead, here. Everyone but Scar. This person with sad eyes and gentle hands does not belong.

“Impulse!” Another voice is calling down at them, and Scar looks up, catching a glimpse of bright orange curls and mismatched eyes. Nothing makes sense. “Is he okay?”

The man — Impulse — looks at him, and then looks up. He can still hear the zombies, everywhere and far too many.

“Get Grian,” Impulse says, and the person above them freezes for just a moment, and then disappears.

Grian, Scar thinks. Another name he knows. Another name that doesn’t make sense to be hearing in a world like this. His mind scrambles, his eyes sting, the zombies groan and shriek above him. Nothing makes sense.

Grian will, some distant and muted part of him says.

Grian will.

—————————

Grian is on top of their cobblestone tower — laughing at the sheer amount of zombies and chaos in the distance — when Gem comes tearing up the slope at high speeds, something frantic and determined in her eyes.

“No zombies allowed!” Grian calls down, grinning, though it dims when she looks up at him. There is something serious and desperate about her gaze.

“Grian!” She slides to a stop at the base of their castle, face dotted with sweat and panic. “You need to come with me, something—“

“You’re just going to kill me,” Grian says, confused and faltering. “Why would I—“

“It’s Scar,” Gem interrupts, a harsh concern clipping her words. “He’s— Something’s wrong with him, a zombie got him and he screamed.”

Grian tilts his head. “Scar screams all the time.”

“Not like this,” Gem says, sounding genuinely shaken. “Not like this, Grian, please.”

She doesn’t even have her sword out, standing at the base of their fortress with wild eyes and a desperate plea. Something’s wrong with Scar. Something bad enough that everything else has gone out the window. Gem’s not here asking him to play the game. She’s here begging him to pause it.

“Okay,” Grian says, a new bubble of panic growing in his chest. “I’m coming, let’s go.”

Gem nods at him when he emerges from the tower, and then she takes off running, leaving Grian with nothing to do but follow. It seems to take forever to get there, weaving around hoards of zombies and craters left over from the wither attack. The other server members are mowing through the hoards with swords and axes, and what seems to be extreme prejudice. They all look a bit shaken. The coil of nervous worry in Grian’s rib cage grows.

Gem stops them at a random crater, and nods. “Down there,” she says, and then throws herself back into the fray, cutting through any undead limbs that reach for her. The surface is a battlefield.

Grian drops down, and Impulse turns to look at him, grim concern pressing his lips thin. He looks relieved when he sees him, and Grian looks behind him and realizes why.

Scar is there, hunched against the wall and shaking like a leaf, sword held in trembling hands and fearful eyes flickering between them. Grian’s stomach drops, and he inhales shakily. Scar looks lost, and so very, very afraid. He’s never seen him like this.

“It’s the zombies,” Impulse says, quietly. “They set him off somehow, I— He barely recognizes me.”

Grian remembers, distantly, Double Life. Scar had fallen into a pit of zombies, and they had both died that day. He hadn’t quite understood why their shared heart had been beating so fast for so long after; he never knew the reason for Scar’s shell-shocked eyes above his trembling smile when they met back up. He still doesn’t know why, but now he knows for sure. Scar is afraid of zombies.

“Get rid of them,” Grian says, equally hushed, even though everyone has already started. Impulse just nods, one hand on his sword, and climbs out of the crater. Grian turns to Scar.

“Scar,” Grian starts, voice carefully relaxed. “You’re safe, okay? We’re getting rid of them.”

Scar shakes his head, moonlight catching on the tear tracks on his face, and Grian aches.

“You can’t be here,” Scar says, turning pleading eyes towards him. “You— You can’t be here.”

Grian gets a little closer, and crouches down, doing his best to appear non-threatening. “Why not, Scar?”

“It’s wrong,” Scar says, sounding all of ten years old, terrified and unsteady. “I’m supposed to be alone, you can’t be here.”

“Why are you supposed to be alone?”

“It’s just me, it’s always just me,” Scar insists, and then he inclines his head upwards, to where the zombies are still groaning. “Me and them.”

Grian swallows, feeling out of his depth and worried. The only reason Scar would have a reaction like this is if it had once been true. Once upon a time, it really had just been Scar and hoards of zombies. And in Scar’s mind, that’s where he was. He’d never left. Grian’s stomach rolled.

“We’re not there,” Grian says, still unsure where there was. “We’re in Secret Life, Scar. We’re playing a game.”

Scar shakes his head again, violently, and starts trying to stand up. A muffled whine escapes his throat when he puts weight on his knee, but still he stands. Grian wants to grab him and shake him and then wrap him up in several blankets.

“You’re hurt,” Grian says, a note of pleading in his voice, hands hovering, wanting to reach out. “You shouldn’t be walking, Scar.”

“I’ve walked on worse,” Scar says vacantly, and twists around to look behind him, making a noise of frustration. “My backpack, where’s my— I need—“

“Backpack?” Grian repeats.

“I need morphine,” Scar says, voice tight with pain and panic. “I need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. You can’t be here.”

Morphine. Scar’s plan is to numb the agony of a broken knee and run on it anyway. Scar says it like it’s normal, like there’s no other choice, like this is the only way. Maybe it was, once. Grian wants to scream and cry and pull the universe apart with his hands. Instead, he grabs Scar’s wrist in a gentle hold.

“I am here,” Grian says, soft but firmly still, and Scar freezes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Grian tugs at his wrist making Scar meet his eyes, trying to ground him. Scar blinks at him, hazy and distant, chest heaving. Grian reaches out slowly, and takes the sword from Scar’s hand.

“Do you remember,” Grian begins, “asking me to be your friend?”

Grian remembers. Scar, with grey skin and crimson eyes, hiding a sheepish grin behind a bouquet of poppies and lilacs. Something like recognition flickers across Scar’s face, and Grian keeps going.

“We had a llama called Pizza.”

“I blew you up on accident.”

“The moon was falling and you built a rocket upside down.”

“You were my soulmate, of course it was you—“

“You made fun of our bread bridge.”

“You were actually a pretty good mayor, you know.”

Grian lays their memories out between them, holding Scar’s wrist gently in his hands, and doesn’t stop until Scar looks at him and finally seems to see him. His face crumples, awareness flooding his expression, and Grian lowers them both to the ground when Scar’s knees give out.

“I’m sorry,” Scar says, voice cracking, and he gives an awkward little laugh that makes Grian’s heart twist sharply. “That doesn’t— That hasn’t happened in a while.”

“It’s okay, Scar, don’t apologize,” Grian says, adjusting his grip to hold Scar’s hand loosely. “Do you feel better?”

“I feel like I ran a marathon,” Scar answers, exhaustion in his tone. “I don’t— Thank you. For bringing me back.”

“Of course.” Grian hesitates. “…Where did you go?”

Scar takes a shaky breath, eyes going tired and sad. Grian’s eyes catch on a scar peeking out beneath his collar.

“I was stuck in a hardcore world when I was a kid,” Scaf says eventually, resigned. “I was the only player in a zombie apocalypse. I had to… let myself die, to get out. But I spent years there.”

Grian stares, quietly horrified. He imagines Scar, so very young and so very alone, running on broken limbs and killing things that once were people every day, and still finding the willpower to survive for years and years. That Scar had grown up in a world without light and still come out of it with a personality bright enough to blind them all — it was nothing short of miraculous. Brilliant, mischievous, stubborn Scar, with enough skeletons in his closet for all of them and the uncanny ability to make them laugh until they were out of breath.

“You never said anything,” Grian says, careful to keep any accusation out of his voice. He understands. He still wishes he had known, somehow.

“It’s not fun to hear about,” Scar says, and stares at his broken knee. “And it’s…not easy to talk about, either.”

“I know,” Grian says, squeezing his hand. “But if you ever want to, I’m here. I don’t want— I don’t want this to happen again.”

The zombie sounds have died down, the others having done their damn best to kill them quickly. It’s quiet but for their breathing, slowly slowing down.

“I’m a lot better,” Scar says, brow furrowed. “That was just, a lot more than I was expecting.”

“It’s okay,” Grian says. “It’s… You don’t have to be better all the time.”

Scar glances at him, his mouth lifting just a bit, looking a little lighter. “Thanks.”

“And you can talk to us.” Grian smiles back. “We can help you when it’s hard.”

Scar lets out a long, slow breath, the shake in his hands finally down to something manageable. Grian is relieved for all of two seconds, and then something mischievous flickers in Scar’s eyes. Grian sighs, because he knows what’s coming—

“That’s what she said,” Scar says, quick and unapologetic, and Grian smacks his shoulder with his free hand. Scar laughs, and Grian just rolls his eyes and grins.

Yeah. He’ll be fine.

#hope u like it if u read it !!!#my writing #goodtimeswithscar #grian #the crafting dead #desert duo #gtws #secret life smp #actual post

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freemansgirl · 7 months

Note

Loved the jock Amber, how about her with a nerd reader?

aww thank you, that means a lot to me! ofc, i can do jock!ambs x nerd!reader, love the brains x brawns duo we got going on here💁🏿‍♀️ pls lmk if you like this, anon ☺️

jock!amber x nerd!reader

SFW

* when first seeing amber, you found her really attractive, even if a jock wasn’t the typical person you go for based off the rumors you hear of them or how they are portrayed in media. what started off as a small, innocent class crush turned into a very, serious crush. you always wanted to talk to her, but she was someone that had a very hard exterior to her. she could be bitchy to other classmates and always had a resting bitch face. as intimidating as she was, she found herself taking in interest in you.

* most of her teammates in the locker room would encourage amber to get with popular “hot” girls or a girl with a status to her. just the typical locker room talk but she ignored them of course. “what about that liv girl, isn’t she hot to you?” “i appreciate the suggestion but i got my eyes on someone else.”

* she always sneaks little glances at you during class, admiring how cute you look. you looked so pretty when concentrating on the class subject. she admired how smart you were too, you always had the answers to every question the teacher asked.

* she took notice of you in class when the teacher suggested a group assignment. it was the perfect opportunity for her to talk to you. amber picked you as her partner. not only were you just smart and well-spoken, but you were beautiful and kept to yourself. more things that she liked about you.

* you felt nervous because you always caught her checking you out with her rbf so the fact she picked you caught you off guard. however, amber was… surprisingly level-headed and nice, not the typical airhead, loud, and mean jock stereotype.

* the two of you exchanged numbers and always would try to make time to study after school to prepare for the group project. usually, amber would never really take time off of football practice for anyone, because she was someone who took sports seriously, but for you, she did. amber helps with grabbing whatever books you needed and would assist w the work for the group project.

* when it came to you two being group partners, amber wanted to get closer so she’d invite you over at her place.

* when she learned about your interests, she found them really cool actually. she liked hearing you ramble and get so passionate, she finds it adorable. there wasn’t any judgment whatsoever. she liked that your interests weren’t like the stereotypical, average person’s interests.

* “amber? are you there? am i boring you with my constant talking about my interests? i know they’re a bit… “nerdy” and all.” what? no. of course not, i love hearing you talk about these things.” she thinks you are the cutest nerd she has ever seen. if anything, you’re her cute nerd🤷🏿‍♀️.(she cant rlly judge you anyway considering she is a big fan for stab. shes just as much of a nerd as you.)

* when seeing you write notes for anything, she compliments your handwriting

* thinks you look cute with glasses if you wear them

* she likes to get you things related to what you like. favorite book series? already checked it out at the library. favorite movie series? buys it for movie nights at her place. video games? already installed on a console. whatever it is you like, she’ll find a way to surprise you.

* she has definitely gotten you a cute oversized onesie of a fictional character you love before, thinks you look so cute walking around her room in it.

* loves to take off and manage her time for you. if you need help w something, she is always there for you especially w studying. she also likes to go to you for any type of tutoring.

*walks you to all of your classes, hand in hand with a lot of pride in her face because she adores having you!!

* takes you home if no one can after you spend a long time studying a library or from some type of club. she doesn’t want you to walk alone hurt and unsafe.

* she likes to invite you to her football practices and to football games because she feels like seeing you support her gives her motivation to win the games.

* she always gives you one of her jackets or a hoodie of hers to provide you some sort of comfort.

* if any of her friends try to tease amber about how she has the hots for you (because usually she’s not the corny type but with you she is), she’ll lightly throw a football at them to shut them up.

* if anyone talks badly or inappropriately about you in the locker room, she’ll literally go off on them and find a way to punish them as a football captain. she’ll probably make them do hella pushups with her foot on their back or make them run around the gym a lot of times.

NSFW

* sapiosexual for sureee, i think she’d get very turned on by how smart you are. i mean how can she not be in a nerd x jock dynamic?

* so unlike the stereotypical pushy, overly sexual jock, who try to make their girlfriends give it up to them… amber is actually very gentle with you. she’d never push or force herself onto you. she’s patient and willing to wait for when you’re comfortable with her.

* likes to fuck you with her jersey on, it gives her the biggest ego boost honestly. also she likes fucking you with glasses on bc you know… glasses are sexy🤭

* during study sessions at the library, if amber is in one of her horny moods, she’d try to persuade you to go the bathroom w her and just give her a quickie. or just go there for horny moods in general

* for any shy ppl reading this, amber would love if youre shy and quiet in bed. it’s just a turn on for her and it makes her wanna fuck you even more just to draw more moans from you.

* after she wins a game, fucking you is one of her favorite ways to celebrate

* if you’re trying to study or just simply doing work at a library, amber would definitely use a sex toy vibrator on you to tease you. the more she can switch the settings, the better :)

* after a long aggravating football practice of someone pissing her off, she’d had sex too to just blow her steam. it can be at the locker rooms or at her place tbh.

* gym bathroom sex happens after you watch her work out and you get sooo turned on by how she works on her muscles. “i see you checking me out, (your name). if you want something from me, do be afraid to say what it is you want.” the something meaning sex

* shower sex

* likes to probably eat you out while you’re watching like a favorite movie of yours just to tease and to make enjoying fave movie even more fun ;)

#amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #scream 5 #scream x reader #scream x reader headcanons #q’d 🖤

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bagopucks · 2 months

Text

T. Zegras - Can He Sing?

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Fem!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning(s): None?

—————————————

“We’re ready when you are.”

“I’m good. Trev?”

“Uh yeah… I think so.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Filming.”

“Hello! I’m Macy Grey and today we’re here with the singer-songwriter who brought you the famous album Silly Love Songs. And her lover Trevor Zegras from the Anaheim Ducks. On behalf of myself and the studio I want to thank you both for coming out today.”

“Of course! I love getting in touch with interviewers. Especially from locally known studios.”

“When I was informed you were in town for the All Stars, I wasn’t sure if you’d have the time, but I’m so happy you were able to fit us into your schedule.”

“Absolutely. I should be thanking you for letting Trevor come though. I know your forte isn’t exactly hockey players.”

Large studio interviews were a waste of time. It was something I always resented, and something that even morally never agreed with me. Large studios only wanted to get news first to make the most money. Smaller places offered a more personal environment and a more comfortable atmosphere. It was the only reason why I had invited Trevor along. I didn’t want him involved too much in the social half of my career, mostly because the industry and jealous fans could be cruel to artists’ lovers. But I reasoned with myself that one interview wouldn’t hurt. Especially with someone like Macy Grey. She was always so kind and open to friends, family, or significant others of musicians.

“To kick us off, I’d love to talk more on the exact reason why you’re in town. Everyone is aware of your successes, but let’s fill the crowd in on Trevor’s.”

“Where to start?” I glanced at Trevor, who let out that awkward wheezy laugh. He was uncharacteristically quiet, but this was a new thing for him. Usually hockey interviews happened when there were loads of other people around. These interviews were far more private. “He was voted in as one of the players this year to play in the All Stars, and he’s competing in a few skills competitions as well. He won a gold medal with Team USA one year before the NHL, he attended Boston University before being drafted.. what else?” I hoped to get him to join in, but Trevor looked fairly comfortable letting me do all the talking. I could fix that though.

“Trevor was voted most likely to cry in a haunted house this year for team superlatives.” I smirked as soon as I heard him gasp.

“Yeah, that’s enough of that,” Trevor cut in. “I’m not a baby, write that down.” He pointed toward Macy, as if the woman had some sort of notepad in her hands. “I’m just jumpy. It’s normal.” His blue eyes shifted toward me with a playful glare, Macy laughed softly at the exchange.

“Well, Trevor. It seems like you’re a pretty successful person yourself. Would you mind me asking how you two met?”

“Oh I love this story.”

“Me too,” Trevor chimed in, crossing his legs one over the other, and leaning forward like a kid during story time.

“So, I was in New York for a performance in MSG, and the Ducks were in town too for a game” I smiled, leaning back in my chair and trying to get comfortable. “My best friend had joined me for the eastern leg of the tour at the time, so we decided to go out for drinks downtown. My favorite bar in the city is 230 Fifth Rooftop Bar. So my best friend, Shelby and I, we just got two glasses of champagne and settled at a high table to watch the sunset. We’re minding our own business.. for the most part, but there’s this group of guys that are just carrying on. They’re loud and obnoxious and they look like your stereotypical frat guys. At one point Shelby had enough, and she got up to go yell at them.” I peeked at Trevor, his smile growing wider. He knew very well that this was the part where he came in. “So Shelby’s yelling at that group of guys, and I finally got up to go wrangle her. And just as I’m approaching.. I kinda stopped and asked myself if it was a good idea. Shelby doesn’t like to be told to stop much. Then I hear this voice right next to me. Scared the shit out of me. And the voice goes, “She yours?” I laughed softly, as did Macy.

“I apologized profusely for her behavior, and-“

“But I told her I wasn’t the one getting yelled at. So it didn’t bother me.” Trevor cut in with a toothy grin. “Then I bought her another glass of champagne and the rest is history.”

“Don’t forget about the part where you booked your hotel room for an extra night to see me perform.” I teased, “And bribed security into getting backstage to see me and ask for my number.”

“Those details don’t make me sound as cool though,” Trevor whined.

“That’s a really sweet story.” Macy chimed in.

“Thank you.”

“So he asked for your number, but who asked who out?”

“To simplify a long story, Trevor was beating around the bush too much for a little while, so one night be brought me flowers before an away game and I told him when he got back, we were going to go on our first date as an official couple.” Macy and I laughed in unison.

“And were there any arguments to that demand?”

“Not from me, no.” Trevor giggled. “I was more than happy to put a label on it.”

“And how long have you been together?”

“Two years. Three at the end of All Star Week.”

“How adorable! You guys must be a strong couple then.”

“Oh one hundred percent.” Trevor smiled as he spoke.

“Now, the question on everyone’s minds is.. can he sing?”

“Yes!”

“Absolutely not.” I corrected Trevor ruthlessly. “He thinks he can.. but he can’t.” I chuckled, glancing at the sandy blonde to see his look of pure betrayal.

“Does that mean we won’t be hearing any duets?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I answered slyly, earning a surprised look from Macy. “Trev is featured on the album.. speaking. His features are mostly just backtracks.”

“I know this may be asking a lot but- is there any chance we could get a sneak peek at that?”

“For you Macy? I would love to.” I watched the girl’s eyes light up. I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened my files, scrolling through for a moment before I stood and dragged my chair closer to the woman’s.

“This song is called Spellbound. It was actually the first song I produced for this new album. I took some of my inspiration from the song Witchy Woman by the Eagles. The reason being, this was written during halloween, and that is just one of my favorite spooky songs. For this piece, I wanted it to feel supernaturally devoted to Trevor. Like.. kind of like.. like a love where one person idolizes the other, but not necessarily in an obsessive or toxic way. I think the lyrics and the tune teetering on the edge of insanity really adds to the supernatural edge and it also makes this song unique to Trevor. I can’t say I’ll ever produce another song like this, nor do I think anyone else will. Classic rock isn’t exactly my genre, nor do I plan for it to be. So this track really sticks out. Which is the main reason why I chose to give this song its own cover art. And I’ll be releasing it as the first single.” It was a lot of information to offer, but I was very passionate about the things I dedicated to Trevor. Especially this song.

Most of my music got old after constantly rerecording lyrics and harmonies, or sorting out instruments. But this song never did. I loved it through and through.

“This sounds amazing and so.. intricate. How long did it take in total from thinking of the idea to finalizing the song?”

“A full month maybe? I hadn’t been exactly itching to make a new album, so I knew if I was going to, my basis for it was going to have to be amazing. And I think I did a fairly good job.” I paused. “I hope so..”

“I’m sure it’s amazing. Let’s hear it!”

I wasted no time in playing the track, a steel guitar and stylized keyboard opening the musical scene. I was a person who loved using clips of recordings in my music, whether it was from everyday life, or a random video in my camera roll, or even if I took the recording of the sound specifically for a song. It was one of my many musical signatures, but the one I was most known for. Atop the smooth music, came the faded clinging of pans, and Trevor’s soft voice. “I can’t wait for you to be home.. Fuck I miss you so much.” It had been a voicemail, but my sound producers managed to give it a more authentic feel, as if someone was in the room with him recording instead of it being spoken into a phone mic. The music itself was fairly calm and collected. Certain instruments helped it sound taboo and old, but the lyrics were the driving factor that made it sound almost insane. A part of me worried my audience wouldn’t take to the song well, but Macy seemed enthralled from the start of the track.

I eyed her expressions carefully through every second, smiling to myself when she seemed particularly intrigued by a section. And I had to admit, it boosted my ego to hear Trevor not too far off in his own chair humming the song to himself. I could live with myself if everyone hated the song, as long as he loved it.

Near the bridge, Trevor’s voice returned, “I’m gonna keep you forever.” This section had been specifically recorded in the studio, and despite my endless attempts to get him to take it seriously, he had giggled at the end of every take. Eventually I settled on knowing I wouldn’t have it the exact way I wanted it, and we used the take with the least amount of amusement in his voice. At the end of the day when we put it all together, his laugh only ended up adding to the crazy feel of the song.

Near the end of the track, Macy finally spoke up.

“This is the weirdest and most mentally satisfying song I have ever heard.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Really?”

“You’re so right, it sounds nothing like what you usually produce, but it still has your essence in it. You can tell it’s your songwriting. I think this song is going to be crazy successful. And I also think having Trevor on it is going to make people go nuts” I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of that. I knew my fans would love to see Trevor featured.

“Thank you so much. I’m so excited to release the song.” I admitted with a slight grin.

“I’m just excited that I’ll be able to listen to it without having to say “babe can you sing me that song” every time I wanna hear it.” Trevor teased, causing my cheeks to flush as our eyes met.

“You don’t like her singing to you?” Macy joked.

“God no. I love it when she sings. I just hate how much I get made fun of when I ask her to do it.” The three of us laughed.

“Sounds to me like you have a pretty devoted girlfriend.”

“She did write a weirdly obsessive song about me.” Trevor agreed pridefully. “The first of many, right babe?” His question made my brow rise in surprise.

“We’ll see, Ziggy.”

“That’s a good answer. Can’t give too much away just yet.” My eyes trailed back to Macy. Our time was drawing to a close. “I hate to cut us short but I think we’re reaching our limit. And I know you have your own tight schedule today.” She paused. “I really wanna thank you again for making enough time to come out. It means a lot.”

“Mace, I think I speak for the both of us when I say we had so much fun being here. You always conduct the best interviews.” The woman blushed.

“We can come back anytime.” Trevor added, catching me off guard.

“I’ll have to take you up on that offer the next time you’re in town.” Macy grinned. “I hope you both enjoy the All Stars, and rock the red carpet of course.”

“Thank you so much. We definitely hope to.”

“I’ll be watching on tv.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #jack hughes #ella’s thoughts #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #nico hischier #ella’s updates #ella’s asks #cole caufield #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 2 months

Text

silly goose | kwon soonyoung

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii we're back baby. genre is: crack. fake dating sort of. friends to ??? basically in love i guess. everyone is an idiot and it's awesome. warnings: reader is implied to be female, wears a dress, does hair and makeup, reader is briefly followed in a menacing kind of way, soonyoung is literally the most dumbest man ever but in the BEST way, reader's friends are quite honestly the actual worst, there is a rather frightening animal encounter that's mostly just funny but could be triggering if you're afraid of birds, lmk if there's anything else i forgot!!! word count: 8.3k

If one was to look up the definition of disappointment, you’re almost positive they’d see a picture of your mom’s face if she ever found out you were in this situation. You’re disappointed in yourself. It was never your plan to be in a loud, crowded club, smushed up against the bar by two large bikers who are bouncing up and down to the beat of the music so that the spikes on the back of the taller one’s jacket get dangerously close to your eyeball. And yet, here you are.

You desperately search the room for the group of very tipsy women you came here with, but they’re nowhere to be found. Scowling, you start to inch out from behind the bikers into a slightly more open space, but even with your improved vantage point, you don’t see them. You curse. Did they really leave you here?

It’s hard for you to understand why you were even invited to this bachelorette party. The bride is your childhood best friend, but you’ve been out of touch for years. Your lives went in completely different directions after high school, clearly evidenced by the predicament in which you currently find yourself. Where you had never been the life of the party, she seemed to have no life without a party. You found yourself wishing for the thousandth time you could be at home with your books and your remote and your cat.

You decide there’s nothing for it and head outside to try and call your friend. She picks up on the third ring, and her voice is slurred and barely distinguishable over the cacophony of sound in the background of the call. You think she’s saying that they’re taking a bus to a bar across town -- about an hour away from where you are now. To get there, you’d have to call a cab and pay almost $100, or you could walk to your apartment, which is three blocks from here. “I’m going to go home,” you tell her, and she laughs and agrees and hangs up.

You grimace at your phone screen and shiver slightly. It’s a chilly night, and you didn’t bring a jacket, so you decide it’s best if you start walking. The way home is well-lit and relatively crime free, so you aren’t nervous as you set off from the club.

That is, until you notice someone is tailing you. He’s a taller man, with scruffy facial hair and red-rimmed eyes that scare you. As you glance over your shoulder, he calls after you. “Where are you headed?” he asks.

“Going to meet my boyfriend,” you claim, desperately trying to shake him off. He seems to be picking up speed, slowly gaining on you as you walk, and as you round a corner you see a group of three well-dressed men standing in front of the movie theater just ahead. “That’s him right there,” you say, pointing at them, and the man trailing after you only picks up his speed, so you make the risky choice to jog toward them and grab ahold of the nearest man’s arm. He has his back toward you, but as you wrap your hand around his bicep, he turns to look at you.

Oh, wow, you think. Because you couldn’t have chosen a hotter man to pretend to be your boyfriend -- unless, of course, you were to have chosen either of his friends. It was strange to be surrounded by so many extremely attractive men, almost like interrupting a model meetup. But you quickly recover, smiling at the man whose arm you grabbed and saying, “Hi, honey.”

You try to communicate with your eyes, and though the man at first looks confused, he glances over your head and sees the man who’d been following you and his eyes light with understanding. “Hello, muffin!” he shouts far too loudly.

You wince. Muffin? you think to yourself. But still, you can’t help but be amused as he puts an arm around you and sends an angry look at the man. “This is my girlfriend,” he yells at him.

“You’re being way too obvious, dude,” one of your fake boyfriend’s friends hisses at him.

“I call BS,” the stalker says, to your horror and surprise. “What’s her name?”

“Mildred,” your fake boyfriend says with no hesitation.

You try not to let the shock of this answer register on your face.

The stalker hesitates. “Is he really your boyfriend, Mildred?”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “Uh, yep.”

“Oh, okay then,” the stalker says. The three of you stare at each other for awhile before he turns around and leaves.

“I cannot believe that worked,” one of your fake boyfriend’s friends says, smacking his forehead.

“Remind me never to call you in a crisis,” the other one says, chuckling.

“What do you mean?” your fake boyfriend says indignantly. He looks at you, as though wanting your opinion, his arms still around you. “I feel like we nailed that.”

You can’t help but smile at him. He really is unfairly pretty, with perfectly tousled black hair, an artful slit in one eyebrow, and a smile that has you wondering if maybe you do believe in love at first sight. “Thanks for helping me out,” you say, so you don’t have to lie and agree that he nailed it. “Do I really look like a Mildred, though?”

“Mildred is a lovely name,” he says matter-of-factly. “And you are lovely.”

You laugh, feeling a little hot around the collar. “And what’s your name?” you ask him, holding out your hand for him to shake.

He takes it and shakes it with a warm smile. “I’m Soonyoung,” he says. He releases you from his grip with a small shake, as though reminding himself to do it. As if he’d gotten lost in you for a second.

“Soonyoung,” you repeat. “And your friends?”

“Seungkwan,” the shorter of the two others says.

“Seokmin,” the taller one replies.

“Soonyoung, Seungkwan, Seokmin,” you chant. “Well, thanks so much for your help, guys. I need to get home to my cat.”

“By yourself?” Seokmin says in a worried tone.

“In the dark?” Seungkwan follows, equally worried.

“Without a jacket?” Soonyoung says, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Well...” you say. “It’s not very far.”

“How far?” Seungkwan asks.

You hesitate. “How do I know you’re not serial killers?”

They all blink at you. “Us?” Seokmin asks.

“We’re idiots,” Soonyoung says sincerely.

They all nod in agreement. “Seriously. If we were serial killers, we’d be caught in no time,” Seungkwan says.

“Let us walk you home,” Soonyoung insists. “I want to meet your cat.”

You’re still a bit nervous, but they keep a respectful distance as they walk you down the next two and a half blocks to your apartment building. You quickly realize that they weren’t lying.

They are actually idiots.

The entire fifteen minute walk, Seungkwan and Seokmin are arguing about whether or not tomatoes are a fruit, culminating in Soonyoung opining that if tomatoes are a fruit, ketchup is a smoothie. The other two are (understandably) outraged by this, leaving you comforted that you actually could probably take all three of them in a fight at once, seeing as how they all seem to share one single brain cell.

There’s something so endearing about their banter, though. So much so that when you finally arrive at the apartment, you find yourself asking if they want to come in for a minute and escape the chilly weather.

“Are you sure?” Seokmin asks.

“Positive. I have some instant ramen we could make, too. Just to warm you up. As a thank you for getting me home safe.”

They look at each other and then nod. “We’d love to,” Seungkwan says.

So you lead them up to your door on the third floor. “Your apartment is so cute!” Soonyoung exclaims, admiring the pretty crocheted decorations that line your walls. “I love these.”

“Thanks,” you say. “I made them.”

He looks at you in awe. “You did? That’s so cool!”

“I’m glad you think so,” you say with a smile.

“What do you do for work?” Soonyoung asks you.

“I’m a social worker,” you tell him. “I work with families in tough situations. Help them get their feet under them.”

“Do you work for the government, then?” asks Seungkwan.

“Make yourself at home,” you tell the three of them, who are standing awkwardly in the entry. As they settle onto the couch, you explain, “I actually work for a subcontractor of the government. We’re a nonprofit. On weekends, we also do a soup kitchen, and help run food banks throughout the county.”

“That must be very fulfilling work,” Seokmin points out. “Do you like it? I hear it can be tiring.”

“It’s good, but I don’t get paid enough,” you admit. “And before you ask, I do have a roommate. She’s just in the hospital. Appendicitis.”

They all wince, and Seungkwan hums sympathetically. You head to your pantry and rummage around looking for the instant ramen, finally locating it and putting a pan on the stove with water. Meanwhile, the guys find your box full of games and pull out the Monopoly. “We should play this!” Seokmin says.

Seungkwan laughs. “We just met her, and you already want to ruin our friendship?”

Soonyoung pulls out a deck of cards. “How about Scum?”

The three of them set up the game while you make the ramen, and by the time you’re all served up all the cards have been dealt. You watch them over your own bowl of ramen, amused at the gusto with which they eat and heartwarmed by their compliments. You’re generally a bit of an introvert, but even you have been lonely the past few days with your roommate gone, and the unexpected company is warm, inviting, and friendly.

Until Scum begins. Unbeknownst to you, this group of three is the most cutthroat, merciless group of players who have ever lived. Their competition knows no bounds, and they seem determined to destroy each other, by whatever means necessary. “Don’t worry,” Seokmin whispers conspiratorially to you while Soonyoung and Seungkwan argue tooth-and-nail about a minor rule of the game. “They’re always like this, but they really do love each other.”

It takes all of them by surprise when you are the first to get rid of your cards, guaranteeing you the “king” spot. “That came out of nowhere!” complains Seungkwan.

You shrug. “I’m good with strategy games. Never challenge me to a game of Settlers of Catan,” you joke.

Just then, your cat pokes his head around the corner and mewls reproachfully at all the noise you’re making. “Hi!” Soonyoung says excitedly, quickly dropping his cards to head over to the cat, making little cooing noises at him as he strokes his soft orange fur. “What’s its name?”

“He’s a he,” you tell him. “And his name is Tiger.”

The three men all freeze and look at you. “What?” you ask, looking around at them in worry.

“No way,” Soonyoung breathes.

Seungkwan groans. “You’ve really done it now.”

“What did I do?” you ask, bewildered.

“That’s like, the forbidden word,” Seokmin says, his tone apologetic.

Your eyes land on Soonyoung, whose entire face has lit up. “I love tigers,” he says, looking on the verge of tears.

“Love is an understatement,” Seungkwan says. “He is about to ask for your hand in marriage.”

“Will you marry me?” Soonyoung asks immediately afterward, making you laugh. His hands are still gently cupping Tiger’s face, his thumbs rubbing the cat’s fur back tenderly.

“I barely know you, Soonyoung,” you remind him. “You’ll have to pretend to be my boyfriend a couple more times before I’ll agree to marriage.”

“Bet,” Soonyoung says. “This cat needs a father. There’s nothing sadder than a fatherless cat.”

You privately disagreed, but it makes you laugh again all the same. “When am I ever going to need you to pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Soonyoung tsks. “I’m sure we could think of something.”

But almost as soon as you’d asked the question, you remembered: the wedding.

Your friend’s wedding -- the one who’d abandoned you tonight. And the one who, against your wishes, had invited your horrible ex-boyfriend. You’d had a plus-one — your roommate, who you’d enlisted to make the entire event endurable. But last-minute, her sister had needed help babysitting her daughter while she went to a divorce hearing on the day of the wedding. The wedding was in two weeks, and you didn’t have a backup date.

Soonyoung watches in satisfaction as your face falls. “Tell me,” he says. “How can I be of service?”

“Well…you can say no,” you preface, and he chuckles. “But...”

You launch into the story of the night. Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Seokmin listen well throughout it, making noises of exasperation and annoyance as you explain why you’d had to interrupt their evening by pretending to be Soonyoung’s girlfriend. “They really left you there?” Soonyoung asks, frowning. He seems to tire of crouching by Tiger, so he sits crosslegged on the ground. You watch carefully as Tiger gingerly climbs into Soonyoung’s lap -- something it took him almost a year to do with you. Tiger is an affectionate and social cat, but he does take some time to warm up, usually. But something about Soonyoung seems to have put him at ease. Soonyoung doesn’t even seem to notice, absently massaging his fingers into Tiger’s neck fur.

“They really did,” you finally reply, oddly touched by the sight of Soonyoung with your cat.

“You need better friends,” Seungkwan says indignantly.

You give him a weak smile. “You’re probably right about that. But I already said I’d go, and they’ve planned for me. So it’d be bad to back out now.” You sigh. “It would be so nice to have someone to go with who’s friendly. And you can totally say no if that’s too much awkwardness to put up with for an evening.”

“Well, I have no problems with going if it means I get to spend more time with your cat in between now and then,” Soonyoung says, tickling Tiger’s stomach and giggling as Tiger swats at his fingers.

“You can always come see my cat whenever you want,” you promise him. “Even if you say no.”

“Really?” he asks, sounding thrilled. “I mean, I’m saying yes, though.”

You let out a deep breath. “Thank you so much. You’re such a lifesaver.”

“I know. Imagine the poor decisions this cat would’ve made if I hadn’t decided to be his dad.”

“I resent the implication that I am a horrible mother who can’t raise a cat to be a good citizen who makes positive contributions to society.”

“Yeah, you psycho, respect this single mother!” Seungkwan says, smacking Soonyoung’s arm.

“Well, you’re partially right,” you admit with a laugh. “Tiger is a war criminal with warrants in 32 countries.”

Soonyoung laughs as well. “See! Fatherless behavior.”

“Plenty of cats grow up to be respectable without fathers,” you say indignantly. “Just not Tiger. He’s possessed of a devil.”

The four of you all have a good laugh about this, while Tiger chirps indignantly at the sudden sound, clambering out of Soonyoung’s lap and darting down the hallway. “Traitor!” Soonyoung calls after him, heading back to the card table to finish playing.

By the time the trio bows themselves out of your apartment, you feel warm and sleepy. It’s been a long time since you’ve had people over to your house and enjoyed it — you had forgotten how nice it was.

******

“Hey there,” you greet your friend Ginger, who waves at you from her hospital bed.

“Hi,” she says back. “How was the bachelorette party?”

“A complete disaster, as predicted,” you tell her, pulling up a chair next to her bed. “When are you coming home?”

“Tonight, if things go well,” she informs you. “But you said you had something to tell me. Is it good or bad?”

“It’s good,” you say with a shy smile.

“How good?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Like, weird-good.”

“Explain.”

“I found a date for tomorrow.”

Her eyes go wide. “You caught someone’s eye? During the bachelorette party?”

“No, after. Well, actually, the guy whose eye I caught was a total creep. But then I forced a different dude to be my fake boyfriend to shake off the first dude, and he agreed to be my date to the wedding.”

“Is he gonna pretend to be your boyfriend there too?” she asks, a suggestive edge to her voice.

“I don’t think so. I mean, we just talked about him coming with me so I wouldn’t have to go alone.”

“How did that even come up?” she asks you.

“Well, they kind of walked me home...”

“They?”

“There were three of them initially,” you explain apologetically.

“You let three random strangers walk you home?”

“Well, they openly admitted to being idiots when I asked if they were serial killers, so I thought it was probably safe.”

“You’re an idiot,” Ginger says dryly.

“Anyway, Soonyoung -- the one who’s gonna be my date -- wanted to meet Tiger. Because he loves tigers. And then it kind of devolved into playing Scum, and then Soonyoung claimed that if he just spent more time with Tiger he’d stop committing dastardly crimes every chance he gets. And then he asked if I’d need a fake boyfriend so that he could help me raise my cat right, and it was this whole thing, and now that I’m telling you the story it sounds really dumb but it was kind of sweet.”

Ginger is staring at you with raised eyebrows during this whole account. When you finally clam up, she sighs. “So, I hate to be the person to have to tell you this, but Soonyoung is actually in love with you.”

“What?” you gasp. “Why do you think that?”

“He is using your cat to get closer to you because he’s too scared to really ask you out because he really likes you.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. You should’ve seen his face when he heard the cat was named Tiger.”

Ginger rolls her eyes. “Girl, I know more about men than I care to admit. This is textbook crush behavior.” She grunts as she adjusts her position. “And I think you like him back, too.”

“I barely know him,” you protest, heat rising in your cheeks.

“Is he hot?” she asks shrewdly.

“Yes,” you answer, without hesitation or even a single iota of forethought. You cringe at your own obviousness, and Ginger laughs.

“It’s okay,” she reassures. “But how hot?”

You consider for a while before answering. “It’s hard to describe,” you complain, feeling more and more uncomfortable the longer it takes. “He’s...pretty.”

“A pretty boy?” Ginger repeats.

“No, like, he doesn’t look dainty -- but he’s not rugged or anything. But he doesn’t exactly look soft either. But he’s not quite all the way to edgy.” You realize you’re rambling once you catch sight of Ginger’s face.

Ginger shakes her head. “You’re a goner,” she sighs.

Conveniently, your phone starts buzzing before you can respond -- not that you really had a response anyway. It’s an unknown number, but you decide to answer it. “Hello?” you say.

“Hi,” a familiar voice chirps on the other end. Your eyes go wide, and you mouth “Soonyoung” to Ginger, who is observing curiously.

“Hi!!!” you respond back, and then wince -- you were a little too eager, and Ginger makes a face at you too. You resolve to be much cooler going forward, and take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“Hi,” he says again, this time sounding amused. “What’s up?”

“Hi. Um, nothing much,” you reply. “What’s up with you?” Wow, what a zinger! you think to yourself. Why did you choose this moment to become an awkward fumbling mess?

“Well, I’m near your apartment, and I was wondering if you were home. I missed Tiger, you see.”

“Ah,” you say. “Well, um, I’m actually...out right now?” Your voice raises a few notes too high at the end of your phrase, and Ginger is pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation, trying to fight back a laugh.

“Ah, that’s bad luck. Where are you?” Soonyoung asks.

“I’m just visiting my roommate in the hospital,” you say, confused as Ginger frantically shakes her head and makes an X with her hands.

“Tell him you were just leaving and you’ll be there soon,” she hisses, pushing you with her foot off of her hospital bed.

“Oh, how is she doing?” Soonyoung asks. “Is she feeling better?”

“She’s absolutely fine,” you grunt, trying to fend off Ginger’s attacks and failing, slumping off the bed onto the floor. “I was actually on my way home, though. Do you have time to wait?” You stand and snatch your bag from off the small table in the room and stick your tongue out at Ginger, who blows you a kiss and waves enthusiastically as you leave.

“Yes,” Soonyoung responds immediately. “Actually, are you hungry? I brought some chicken.”

“I’m actually starving,” you answer honestly. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

True to your word, you sprint all the way out of the hospital and almost all the way home, stopping around the corner to your place to try and catch your breath and look cool when you see Soonyoung. Ginger’s words bounce around your brain in a disconcerting way, and you feel like you’re sweaty and flustered in a way that no amount of time stalling could really fix. So you decide to just bite the bullet and turn the corner.

You can see Soonyoung waiting at the door to your apartment building. When he catches sight of you, his whole face lights up in a smile. And oh, what a smile it is. You have to physically restrain yourself from squealing at how obscenely adorable he is -- his eyes softening into crescents, his cheeks going all round and his nose scrunching just slightly. You can’t help but smile back as you finally reach him. “Hey,” you say, going for a breezy, cool vibe and missing the mark embarrassingly.

“Hi,” Soonyoung says, and to your comfort, he sounds just as eager as you did on the phone. “Um, how was the walk?”

“It was great! Super chill, super lowkey,” you lie through your teeth, thinking about how you had sprinted in a very not-chill, not-lowkey way to come see him.

“That’s good!” he exclaims back.

“What were you doing near my house?” you ask, leading him toward the door.

“Oh, well, actually, I had to go visit this restaurant my friend works at,” he says, stuttering a little. “And he actually made extra chicken, so I thought -- well, and I knew you lived close by, so I thought it would be fun if we...I don’t know, got to know each other before the wedding?” He shrugs cutely.

“You can just say you wanted to see my cat,” you tease, pressing the elevator button.

“I did, on the phone,” he reminds you.

“Oh,” you say.

“Oh,” he replies.

The two of you stare at each other for a minute.

Then, Soonyoung says, “Why are we so awkward?”

He doesn’t sound worried -- he even has a laugh in his voice. And for some reason, the easiness with which he addresses the strange tension in the air seems to dissipate it a bit.

“I’m sorry,” you say with a laugh. “I’m not very good with surprises. I never know how to react. But I’m very glad you’re here.” Finally, the sincerity of the words shines through, and though you normally would’ve been embarrassed at the admission, you aren’t.

He smiles that brilliant smile yet again, and your heart does a little happy-dance in your chest. “Me too,” he replies fervently.

“What do you do for work?” you ask him as the two of you board the elevator. “I never asked, before.”

“Oh, that. I’m actually a kindergarten teacher,” he tells you.

You are gobsmacked at this information. “You don’t look like a teacher,” you tell him.

“Oh yeah? What do I look like?” he asks, striking a ridiculous pose.

You giggle. “A rockstar, maybe. Or a band manager.”

“Thank you, I think,” Soonyoung says.

“You’re welcome,” you say with emphasis. “It was a compliment.”

The two of you chat aimlessly all the way into your apartment, where Soonyoung immediately starts calling for Tiger. “Your daddy’s home,” he bellows into the empty apartment. “Where are you, son?”

You absolutely know the neighbors must have heard him, but your brief embarrassment is soothed when Tiger comes tearing around the corner, coming to a screeching halt at Soonyoung’s feet. “He never does that,” you say, in awe of this overt affection from your normally skittish-around-strangers cat.

“He knows who I am,” Soonyoung says, bending down to pick up Tiger and cradle him in his arms like a baby. “My son,” he coos, tickling his belly and laughing when Tiger bats at his fingers with his paws.

You catch yourself before Soonyoung can tear his attention away from Tiger, knowing you were probably staring at them with heart-eyes. Shaking yourself, you open the box of chicken Soonyoung left on the counter. “Do you mind? I actually haven’t eaten today.”

Soonyoung’s gaze snaps to you. “It’s like four in the afternoon!” he exclaims indignantly. “What do you mean, you haven’t eaten today?”

“Well, I woke up kind of late, and then I was running around doing important errands, and then I had to go see my friend,” you explain. “I kind of forgot.”

He tsks in annoyance. “Well, you need to take care of yourself too. How am I supposed to co-parent this cat with you if you pass away from malnutrition?”

“You are so dramatic,” you laugh. “This doesn’t happen very often. I promise I’m a regular eater.”

He eyes you suspiciously. “Okay. You’d better be.”

You dig into the chicken while you watch Soonyoung play with Tiger. “Holy cow!” you exclaim. “This is amazing.”

“I’ll tell my friend you said so. You should go to his restaurant, it’s right across the street from you.”

“I definitely will,” you say, taking a seat at the table and patting the chair next to you. “But I think it’s time for your interview.”

“Interview?” he asks.

You nod. “I’m not about to just let the first cat-loving man I come across be Tiger’s father. I need to see if you’re prepared for the role.”

So Soonyoung, giving you a cautious look, comes to sit beside you with Tiger trotting after him. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask him.

“That’s hardly a standard interview question,” he protests, laughing.

“This is hardly a standard interview,” you shoot back. “Now tell me.”

He thinks for a minute. “Black and white.”

“Hmm, interesting,” you muse, but before you can go any further, he raises a hand.

“How about you?” he asks.

“I’m asking the questions!” you say indignantly, and he chuckles.

“Okay, but shouldn’t I know my son’s mother?” He makes a face. “That sounded weird. You know what I meant.”

You stare at him, considering, for awhile before answering. “Orange,” you finally reply. Then, in a teasing tone, you add, “Like a tiger.”

“You’re joking,” Soonyoung insists, his eyebrows raised and his eyes wide.

“I’m actually not,” you admit. “And can I confess something else: tigers are easily in my top five favorite animals.”

“Well, anything lower than number one is just bad taste,” Soonyoung claims, grinning.

“Ah, well, I guess we can’t all have entirely correct opinions,” you sigh. “Except you, of course.”

“You’re such a fast learner,” Soonyoung praises.

And on the conversation goes. Usually, when talking to someone as pretty as Soonyoung is, you find yourself tongue-tied and awkward, but talking with Soonyoung is as easy as breathing. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the man seems to have no idea how gorgeous he is -- he doesn’t take himself too seriously, and is incredibly silly in a way most men of his level of attractiveness aren’t willing to be. And he makes you feel smart and interesting, appearing just as fascinated by your answers as you are with his.

Over the course of your conversation, you learn that Soonyoung is close with his mother; he loves all animals; he befriends strangers on public transportation and is a caring and loyal friend to so many people he can hardly keep track of them all. He can’t drink very well, he gets sad late at night, and when you ask him what he’s most proud of, he tells you that he always knows who the killer is in a game of mafia.

Try as you might to discover any red flags that would disqualify Soonyoung as the perfect father for your cat, your interview proves quite the opposite. The less-than-rational wing of your mind-palace is already picking out your wedding colors for the inevitable moment you marry this man. The less feral part of your mind is, surprisingly, cautiously optimistic. For all your reservations about dating, Soonyoung has proven someone you very much enjoy getting to know.

After several hours, the two of you arrive at the first lull in the conversation, when your laughs fade out and you just look at each other, electricity charging the air. Soonyoung breaks the silence. “So, did I get the job?”

You pretend to deliberate for a single second. “Absolutely,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake.

He throws his arms around you instead. “We’re actually married now, and married people hug,” he explains.

You giggle nervously, despite the growing heat in your face. “I don’t remember you proposing today,” you scold him lightly, still hugging.

“The one from last night is still valid,” he says, breaking apart. “Honey,” he adds as an afterthought.

Just then, your phone rings. You answer it quickly, rushing to your bedroom to take the call. After a few minutes, you return to the kitchen apologetically. “It’s work,” you tell Soonyoung. “A situation came up with a client.”

“Do you need to leave now?” Soonyoung asks, jumping up. “Can I give you a ride?”

You shake your head. “It’s actually an hour drive and I’m not supposed to bring people who aren’t privy to the case. But — well, Tiger usually gets fed around 8 pm, and I don’t think I’ll be back by then. Would you be okay to do that? If not it’s totally fine, I can call my sister-in-law to do it.”

Soonyoung beams. “Of course. Can I wait for you to get home?”

You blink. “Soonyoung, it’ll be at least four hours from now. Probably more. We’re talking past midnight.”

“No school tomorrow,” Soonyoung reminds you, shrugging. “Plus, a group of friends invited me out to drink tonight, and I didn’t really want to go. Now I’ve got an excuse.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “You are genuinely the best,” you say, going to him and wrapping him up in your arms. “Thanks.”

He seems taken aback by your sudden hug, but responds all the same. “Be safe on your way to work,” he says softly in your ear, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck, and you steal one final look at him before leaving.

******

By the time you get home, it’s nearly one in the morning. As you slump tiredly against the steering wheel of your car before going in, you check your phone and find several missed calls from Ginger. It is only then you remember she was scheduled to come home today, and more than likely did — to Soonyoung.

You race up to your apartment and open the door. Sure enough, curled up on the couch with Tiger is Soonyoung. He’s fast asleep, his cheek squished against the firm cushion, Tiger keeping vigil at his stomach. Tiger meows reproachfully as you come in, taking quiet steps to Ginger’s room. She’s resting with her back against the headboard, but she opens her eyes at the sound of her door.

“So, I came home to a man in my house,” she says expectantly. “That was crazy.”

“Yeah. We had a runaway situation that I had to figure out, and Soonyoung stayed to feed Tiger and make sure I got home okay,” you explain softly, not wanting to wake Soonyoung.

“I’m so glad he’s not a serial killer,” Ginger whispers. “He was very attentive. Kept checking on me and asking if I needed anything.”

“He did?” you ask, your heart in your throat.

“He seems like a tender little guy,” Ginger says, watching you carefully.

“He does,” is your simple reply. You can’t trust yourself to speak without crying.

******

Soonyoung ended up accidentally sleeping over that night. In the morning, the three of you — Soonyoung, Ginger, and yourself — spent a fractionally awkward but mostly pleasant morning breakfasting together before Soonyoung insisted it was time for him to shower. After that day, he dropped by frequently.

Sometimes he would stay for just twenty minutes, dropping off a book or visiting Tiger. Occasionally he’d bring by an ingredient for a dinner you were making, and you made it a habit to invite him to join on those occasions. The easy conversation between the two of you became an easy friendship, bursting with silliness and laughter and acceptance of each other’s quirks. You felt more and more like your real self around him. Which was crazy, especially given how thoroughly and extremely smitten with him you are.

It had taken you less than a week to realize your feelings. You’d expected to start feeling uncomfortable around Soonyoung, but for some reason, he just made it so clear that he cared about you that you didn’t even worry about if he liked you or not.

You reflect on this as you drive to your friend’s house to get ready before the wedding. You’re nervous about how this whole day will go, but the promise of seeing Soonyoung later makes it all worth it. In fact, just the thought of him being with you seems to calm your nerves and make it easier to face the day.

You mostly keep to yourself with the bustle of getting ready. The soft pink dresses the bride picked as your bridesmaids’ dresses are not your normal style or color, but you like how the sleek satin fabric looks on you. It pairs well with your minimal hairstyle and makeup. Before you know it, it’s time for you to go get Soonyoung.

When he opens the door, his face breaks into a huge smile. “You look beautiful!” he exclaims, covering his mouth with both hands.

“You look so handsome!” you reply, looking him up and down. He looks amazing in his black suit, white shirt, and black tie.

“You’re not supposed to outshine the bride,” Soonyoung says sternly. “I don’t think they’ll let us in.”

“Stop it,” you say, flustered.

“I’m serious,” Soonyoung insists.

“Well, if they don’t let us in, I think I’d prefer that,” you say honestly.

“I’m actually excited,” Soonyoung admits. “I think it’ll be fun.”

“Even though my friends are...”

“Kind of awful? Yeah, I’m not worried about it.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I’m not planning on paying them any attention at all,” Soonyoung says simply, his eyes fixed on you. And as he helps you into the driver’s seat, you can’t help but smile.

The wedding is a lavish affair. After the complicated wedding ceremony, where you stood at the farthest distance from the bride and had a hard time tearing your eyes away from Soonyoung, who stared at you the whole time, he whisks you away to your dinner table.

“Did you enjoy the ceremony?” you ask as Soonyoung pulls out your chair for you to sit down.

“It was quite a view,” he teases lightly as he sits beside you.

You know what he really meant, and you give him a shy half-smile before replying, “It sure is beautiful out here!” You gesture around at the venue, which is gorgeous — a beautiful private property with loads of land, and a gazebo on the banks of a large pond, where the ceremony took place.

Soonyoung scoffs. “Well, yeah, but you seem determined to miss my point.” Nonchalantly, he slips a hand onto your knee, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. “I’m flirting with you.”

“Oh, are you?” you ask, feigning surprise. “I hadn’t noticed.” But in reality, it’s impossible to stop yourself from beaming.

“Well, we are married,” Soonyoung says, his hand sliding across your knee to find your hand. He tangles his fingers with yours. “I think it comes with the territory.”

“If you say that too loud, you’re going to make people think it’s true,” you joke.

“Let them think that,” he says, his eyes trained on you in a way that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. You squeeze his hand and look away, slightly panicked.

Your eyes land below the table. “I like your shoes,” you blurt.

Soonyoung looks down at his plain black loafers. “These are like, my least interesting pair of shoes,” he points out with a sly grin.

“Well, you’re an interesting man,” you say, trying to recover but feeling flustered all the same. “What are your most interesting pair of shoes?”

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“The only thing I can count on is that they’re tiger-related,” you reply, grateful for this subject shift.

Soonyoung nods. “Calvin and Hobbes Air Force Ones,” he confirms proudly. “I should’ve worn them.”

“You would have made the bride angry.”

“That makes me want to wear them even more,” Soonyoung grumbles.

“What’s your beef with my friends?” you ask him lightly, absently trailing one of your hands over his arm.

He leans in to almost-whisper the answer. “They left you vulnerable when they should have been taking care of you, and that bothers me.”

You’re taken aback by how serious the usually silly Soonyoung sounds, but before you have a chance to respond, the music starts, heralding the arrival of the new Mr. And Mrs. You take the moment of cheering and applause to breathe deeply and steady your trembling hands. This is Soonyoung, you remind yourself. You don’t need to be nervous around him.

You’ve sufficiently pulled yourself together by the time you have Soonyoung’s attention again. “So, what will you do after the wedding is over?” you ask him, trying to keep the new, flirty side of him locked away.

“That’s an amazing question that I actually was going to ask you. Do you wanna watch a movie?” he asks.

“Well, my place is empty tonight, so that sounds kind of fun,” you admit, not sure you fully succeeded at not flirting.

“Perfect,” he says. “So, what are you in the mood for? Action? Horror? Romcom?”

“How about…a wholesome sports movie? Those are my favorite genre of movies.”

“Really?” he asks with interest. “This surprises me about you.”

The conversation settles into its normal easy rhythm — all through dinner, you talk and laugh and enjoy each other’s company. When the dancing starts, you allow Soonyoung to pull you into his arms on the dance floor, following his lead in a smooth trot-step. “You’re a good dancer,” you observe.

“I teach kid’s dance classes on the side,” he admits. “It’s my night job.”

“Ah, and here I was, thinking you probably did pole-dancing after hours,” you tease.

“I know you’re not serious, but I am actually extremely flattered you’d assume that,” Soonyoung says. “Pole dancers are strong.”

“So are you,” you point out.

“How do you know?” he asks.

You swallow hard. “Uh, you — your arms,” you stutter. “They're…really nice.”

Soonyoung (unconsciously?) flexes his bicep under your hand, and your knees nearly buckle. It’s almost pathetic how affected you are by him, especially given that he hasn’t even made a move yet, and you cringe inwardly at yourself.

“Are you okay? You look uncomfortable,” Soonyoung asks.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine?” you reassure, but in the least convincing voice ever.

“Do you need some water?” he asks, concerned.

“Yes, that’d be amazing,” you say, shooing him away and fanning at yourself, your mind full of useless chiding for being so embarrassingly whipped.

A tap on your shoulder startles you from your thoughts. “Hi,” says a familiar voice — and your stomach drops.

It’s your ex boyfriend, the one you’d asked your friend not to invite but to no avail. “Hi,” you say shortly.

“You look great,” he says, to no reply from you. “The color suits you.”

“Is there something you want?” you ask him, trying to make it clear you don’t want to talk with him about anything.

“Just trying to catch up on what’s happened since, well, you know—“

“Since I caught you cheating?” you finish. “Yeah, life’s been really great since then. Thanks for the trust issues.”

He gives a sheepish little grin. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, like he’s a call center employee placating an angry customer. “I got promoted at work.”

You could punch him. You would, if you weren’t at a wedding. Luckily all murderous intent is redirected by a very timely Soonyoung, who arrives on the scene with a confident, “hey, baby!” and a hand outstretched with a glass of water.

“Oh, you came with someone?” your ex says. He sizes up Soonyoung, who is easily bigger than him, and shrugs. “Bad luck. Maybe next time.”

“I was this close to ruining this wedding,” you confess as Soonyoung wraps a protective arm around your waist, watching your ex saunter away. “He started talking about his promotion.”

“Didn’t he cheat on you?” Soonyoung asks, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah,” you confirm, scowling.

“Well, drink your water, and then we can dance again. You’ll forget all about him.”

This turns out to be true. Dancing with Soonyoung is so much fun -- he seems unusually good at it, and leads you very well, but also doesn’t take things too seriously, letting you spin him or even pretending to do a dip in which he almost falls over. The whole thing is just so ridiculous that you find yourself giggling through it, needing to pause and take a break. Soonyoung suggests that the two of you take a walk down to the lake, and you readily agree.

He holds your hand during the walk, and you can feel yourself trying to explain away his behavior -- he’s probably just trying to scare off your ex, or any of the other bridesmaids who’ve been making eyes at him all evening (which you’ve been pretending not to notice or care, but which you most definitely have noticed and are not happy about). Or maybe he just wants some affection. Or maybe it’s something else. It certainly can’t be the simplest explanation -- that Soonyoung likes you in the same way you like him.

The banks of the water are muddy and slick, and you and Soonyoung have to cling to each other for balance, but you’re still giggling like children as you kick off your shoes and let your toes sink into the murky shallows of the pond. “It’s freezing,” you say, hopping out almost immediately and colliding with Soonyoung, who automatically throws his arms out to steady you. Your laughter fades as you look into his eyes, which are wide and uncharacteristically shy and nervous. He swallows. Hard.

“Uh....” he says, stammering. “You’re -- you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you say in a tense whisper.

“I think I -- I think I like you,” Soonyoung whispers back.

“You think?” you ask, smiling a little.

“No, that was ridiculous,” he corrects. “Uh, I like you. For suresies. For realsies.”

“For suresies and for realsies?” you say with wide eyes, and he cringes.

“Throw me a bone, please,” he whines. “I’m nervous.”

And he is. You can tell that this normally confident boy is all but in pieces after making his confession. So you untangle yourself from Soonyoung’s grasp and turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck and looking at him. “So am I,” you admit.

And at this, Soonyoung beams. If you didn’t know better, you’d think that a smile that lights up a room was a bit of metaphorical nonsense that didn’t truly apply to anyone, but seeing this now, you figure that was an understatement in Soonyoung’s case. This kind of smile from him was enough to support intelligent light on several planets. And you? Just like a moon, you know you’ll be rotating around him your whole life, just reflecting that light. It is impossible to fully describe the way it warms you from the inside out.

You’re so distracted by Soonyoung himself that you don’t notice how he’s leaned in close until his lips brush yours. And, in fact, this move surprises you so much that you jump, startled, which sends you sliding into the mud, dirtying up your pale pink dress and causing an angry honk to emanate from the reeds where you land. Before you know it, a goose is hissing in your ear, and you shriek with terror as you scramble to your feet, running with all your might from the furious bird, who emerges from its marshy home to chase you up the hill toward the wedding party.

You never thought you’d need to answer the question, “Could I beat a goose in a fight?” And now, here you are, with a very clear answer indeed: absolutely not. The goose is fast, using a combination of an aggressive waddle, short bursts of low flight, and what is more than likely a higher-than-average dose of unfettered bloodlust to stay right on your heels all the way onto the dance floor, where wedding guests dive out of the way in cartoonish confusion. You don’t have time to think about how ridiculous you must look, covered in mud, running from a murderous goose, before Soonyoung firmly plants himself in front of the rampaging animal.

And inexplicably, it stops, looking up at Soonyoung with its unsettlingly blue eyes. He stands with his hands on his hips and glares down at the goose. “You interrupted what was supposed to be a very romantic moment for me,” he scolds. “Now shoo!”

And you watch, dumbfounded, as the goose gives a plaintive squawk before toddling back to its pond. “How did you do that?” you gasp.

It is only then that you realize the entire wedding is staring at you. And for good reason -- the bride and groom are about to cut the cake. The terror of being chased by Satan’s personal fowl pales in comparison to the sight of the bride. Her eyes are even more murderous than the bird’s had been -- and she’s holding a cake knife to boot.

So, before any other awful things can happen, you grab Soonyoung’s hand and run. Out of the wedding area, off the farm, onto the dirt road where you parked your car, realizing too late you left your shoes by the pond and not daring to face the wedding party or the goose to retrieve them. By the time you arrive at your car, you’re laughing so hard you’re crying. Soonyoung, though bewildered, joins in, and the two of you double over, struggling to breathe with the absurdity of it all.

When you’ve both been reduced to gasps for air, Soonyoung turns to you, leaning back against your passenger side door for support. “Is every day of your life like this?” he asks through deep breaths.

“Why?” you ask, your face falling. “Are you getting tired of rescuing me?”

He chuckles. Unexpectedly, he pulls you toward him by the waist, seemingly unbothered by the mud. “Not at all,” he says, pulling a stray clump of weeds from your hair. “I’d rescue you every day if you asked. I just need to know how much prep work I need to be doing. I mean, do I need to start a new workout routine? Do I need to learn karate geared toward beating up ducks?”

“That was a goose,” you correct. Then you register what he said. “You’d rescue me every day?”

He suddenly looks nervous again. “If you want,” he offers, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear.

But your answering smile is enough to tell him that’s exactly what you want. With a mite more confidence, he grips your chin between his forefinger and thumb and pulls your lips to his.

This kiss is much more substantial than the last. Soonyoung’s arms wrap around you, his hands resting on the small of your back, locking you into his grasp and making it difficult for you to pull away -- as if you would, because his kisses are sweeter than summer strawberries. As the warm winds begin to pick up speed, as your hair whips around you and your muddy dress is blown every which way, your heart seems to crystalize into calmness. Kissing Soonyoung feels like putting the last piece into a puzzle, like coming inside from a cold rain to a warm fire, like watching bees flit from flower to flower in a late spring sunset. It feels perfect. It feels right.

You could go on kissing Soonyoung forever, until the two of you became statues locked in an embrace, but eventually you do pull away. Soonyoung laughs at the deep, shaky breath you take, and so do you, bringing a hand to touch his pink cheek in wonder. “You’re so beautiful,” you tell him.

“Not as much as you,” he replies warmly.

Then a thought strikes you. “Also, when were you going to tell me you have mind control over geese?”

He shrugs. “It wasn’t mind control. It was the eye of the tiger.” He brings his hand up in an imitation of a paw print, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Okay. If you’re a Disney Princess, you can just say that.”

“Okay. I’m a Disney Princess,” Soonyoung agrees. “Does that make you happy?”

“Only if I get to be the Disney Prince,” you mumble, nestling into his arms and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Deal,” he replies. You can hear the smile in his voice as he does.

#seventeen #svt #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt x reader #svt fic #svt fanfic #svt crack #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #hoshi crack #kwon soonyoung x reader

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leclerc-s · 3 months

Text

the blue - part eight

series masterlist // previous // next

zendaya amelia grace holland be honest. how many songs ave you written about oscar?

amelia holland

sam holland the better question is how many songs have you written about fake scenarios in your head?

amelia holland oh that one's easy at least five. this month. i've got a really good one called i should hate you, i wrote that one with aaron.

tuwaine barrett DID CHARLES HELP PRODUCE THIS AGAIN??

amelia holland i think he almost shit himself when he found out aaron was also producing this one. tuwaine barrett CHAMELIA MY BELOVED! GET THIS MAN ON STAGE WITH TAYLOR FOR A SURPRISE SONG! amelia holland he's been on my ass about that to. did you team up with him or something? tuwaine barrett why? did he say someting?

harry holland speaking of charles, how's texas? is it fun?

amelia holland it's hot as fuck.

amelia holland you're in texas now? any plans on coming home?

amelia holland kinda promised oscar and lando that i'd stick around for the triple header. there's a week off in between vegas and brazil but lando's birthday is a few days before vegas and abu dhabi is the next weekend. so i'm not sure. might be home for a couple days at most.

harrison osterfield it's almost like oscar's career is monopolizing all of your time

sam holland for the record none of us have problem with it. this is the first time in a long time we've seen you happy. if traveling with oscar makes you happy, do it. harrison's being a dick, ignore him. but like also please come home for the holidays?

amelia holland is that his default setting? - danny ric

amelia holland sorry about that, the fake american took my phone.

amelia holland real american here, is that his default setting? - logan sargeant

amelia holland charles here! is that his default?

amelia holland this group is tragic. ours is much more fun - max

amelia holland I CAN FINALLY STOPPED BE CALLED NORIZZ BECAUSE CLEARLY THE SECOND STRING LOSER HAS LESS THAN ME! - LANDO

amelia holland i would never piss a songwriter off because you'll be branded as the second string loser for the rest of your life. - pierre

amelia holland i swear they’re normally house-trained - oscar

amelia holland he's lying - alex

tom holland YOU HAVE A GROUPCHAT WITH THEM??

amelia holland it's quite fun. murder is threatened at least 3 times a day and lestappen is in full force. it is no just for the camera, i genuinely think they're in love with each other

amelia holland yuki’s quite violent, in case anyone was wondering. he may be pocket sized but he holds a lot of rage

harry holland and who exactly is in this group chat and why haven’t we been invited?

amelia holland the twitch quartet, max, daniel, yukierre, estie bestie and his two husbands, twinkclaren, and me

harrison osterfield you call your boyfriend a twink?

amelia holland it’s a term of endearment - lando

amelia holland she calls lando a fucking weenie and she called someone a weird second string loser, so i’m okay with twink - oscar

amelia holland WE'RE KIDNAPPING AMELIA! WE'RE IN TEXAS BABY! - DANNY RIC

amelia holland SAVE US! - CHARLES & MAX

ameliaholland posted new stories

someone's super excited to be back in texas COTA! pre-quali look with oscaroo. he's not happy at the moment, says it's too hot to be in texas. i agree. :) logan said he knew a place and took us to cane's. clearly one of them is happy to be here.

ameliaholland the plans made it out of the group chat, so when in texas...

tagged: oscarpiastri, lilymhe, francesca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, danielricciardo, landonorris, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, alex_albon, logansargeant, yukitsunoda, pierregasly, georgerussell63, estebanocon, mickschumacher, lancestroll

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tuwaine I HAVE NEVER WANTED TO BE IN TEXAS SO BAD

↳ ameliaholland you're missing out so bad tuwaine

tomholland2013 AMELIA GRACE HOLLAND YOU BETTER NOT BE DRINKING!

↳ ameliaholland i'm not? there's a heineken in my hand? it's non alcoholic.

↳ landonorris she literally had shots with max. she's a liar.

↳ ameliaholland shut the fuck up norizz.

username oh god, i've never wanted to be apart of a friend group this bad

username thank goodness someone put boots on the correct way. if i saw another picture or video of the drivers with their jeans tucked into their boots i would riot.

↳ username i hope daniel scolded them for doing so.

samholland1999 PUT SOME PANTS ON AMELIA!

↳ ameliaholland I AM WEARING PANTS! IT'S CALLED SHORTS DINGBAT! IT'S HOT IN TEXAS

username now this is a group i never thought i would see hanging out. at least not all of them together.

username this is so iconic of them wtf?

georgerussell63 i have never met someone who can out drink max, please join us the next time we go out.

↳ harryholland64 did not know my little sister can out drink max verstappen but i'm somehow proud?

↳ username this just in, something max verstappen is not good at doing, out drinking amelia holland.

lilymhe we have to do this again!

↳ francesca.cgomes we do!

↳ alexandrasaintmleux oh, we should

↳ ameliaholland give me a time a place and i'll be there!

↳ carmenmundt count me in too! i would love to meet amelia.

↳ username icons meeting other icons, love to see it.

finish the lyrics with lando norris and oscar piastri

comments

user we were robbed of cowboy oscar!

user lando and the holland brothers being the captains of the oscar x amelia ship is so funny to me

user but who did lando call a dick and why?

↳ user probably harrison, if the context clues we've been provided are anything to go by.

↳ user lando has been their biggest defender since day 1 and i stand by that

user was i the only one who caught that brocedes reference?

↳ user lando knew what he was doing making that joke.

user lando casually wanted to remind everyone that oscar's brother-in-law is spider-man.

↳ user had to quickly flex on spidey's biggest fan, estie.

user and to think this whole joke started because of a taylor song.

user HE CALLED HIM A MUPPET!! THIS IS MONUMENTAL!

user lando is oscar and amelia's biggest defender, you can't change my mind.

↳ user it's oscmelia girl, get it right.

↳ user you're right my bad, terribly sorry.

harrison osterfield i don't exactly appreciate your friend and boyfriend calling me a dick online.

amelia holland and i didn't appreciate being strung along for almost 2 years...

sam holland HOW LONG?

tom holland but he was with his ex for almost a year?

tuwaine barrett oh damn

harry holland you have got to be fucking kidding me harrison.

zendaya never trust blonde men with blue eyes

amelia holland what about max and logan? zendaya never trust blonde men with blue eyes whose name starts with an h or a j. those two you can trust.

tom holland by the way how's oscar doing? we watched the race.

amelia holland a bit bummed about the dnf but that's the way things go in this sport. besides it's not like it can get any worse than this.

TWO HOURS LATER

amelia holland HOW COULD I BE SO FUCKING WRONG?!

ameliaholland posted new stories

💋 i'm totally going to lose tonight... you're looking at the winner of the bowling tournament. it was luck really, but operation cheer up charles and oscar was a success.

taglist: @six-call @1nt3rnetgf @fernandoswarcrimes @skynel09 @arieltwvdtohamflash @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @woozarts @dear-fifi @tygecjjd @cataf1 @nothaqks @caipng @nataliambc @formulaal @lichterfee @prongsvault @kaa212 @anxxiousaries @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole @hobiismyhopeu @melissayalene @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @nichmeddar @namgification @anniemae299

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! just when you think he can't get any worse, he does! i have very strong opinions about texas, in case that wasn't obvious. texas was my breaking point + brazil, in case you couldn't tell who my favorite drivers were, you do now.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the blue series #formula 1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x female oc #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 fic #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au

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merrybloomwrites · 3 months

Text

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 3)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Y/N & Harry reconnect at MSG night 12

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2

Word Count: 2.4k

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The next three weeks pass in a similar fashion for you. Work, chores, and hanging out with your best friends fills most of your time. You try not to depend on Harry’s scent, but the days where you don’t have your reminders of his smell around you turn out to be terrible days. The nightmares come back, and you’re restless all day. Plus, you feel way colder than you should in late August, so it just makes sense for you to be constantly drinking hot chocolate.

September 10th finally rolls around, and the first thing you do when you wake up is reread the email from Jada for the hundredth time. You still can’t believe what will happen that night, but there it is clearly written out for you.

Not only will you, Amelia, Violet, and Rachel be going to Harry’s concert, you have your own VIP section and you’re invited backstage before the show starts.

The girls all come over to get ready together. You all have some pizza and play Harry’s music while helping each other with your hair and makeup. After getting dressed you take some pictures together, wanting to document this night.

You spray on extra scent blockers, slipping the bottle into your purse so you can reapply later if needed. Rachel sees you do this and checks in with you, asking, “You okay? Are you nervous to go back there?”

“I’m good,” you reply. ��I’m excited actually. It’s different this time. I’m more prepared, and I have you three with me. Plus, I’m pretty sure Amelia will rip the knot off any alpha who tries to mess with us.”

“I heard that!” Amelia shouts from the next room. “And yes. I absolutely will.”

You all laugh and grab your purses before heading to the car. Violet drives you all into the city, and you’re grateful for her fearlessness. No matter how experienced you are, you’ll never drive in New York unless you absolutely have to.

Once you get there, you follow the directions from Jada’s email, walking past the line of people waiting outside and heading straight for a side door. You speak with a security guard who checks your names on a list. He nods and calls over another security guard who leads you into the building.

You look at your friends and can tell they’re as amazed and excited as you are. Sure, you had the emails telling you that all of this would happen, that you’d be hanging out backstage before watching the concert from a private box, but it’s so surreal now that it’s actually happening.

Someone calls your name from the end of the hallway, and you smile when you see Jada walking towards your group.

“So glad you girls could make it!” she says, handing you all the badges you’ll need to wear that evening.

“We’re super excited to be here,” you reply.

She leads you all to a room filled with food and drinks and a number of other VIP guests.

“They’re still working on soundcheck so please enjoy some snacks and I’ll grab you guys to say hi to Harry in a bit,” Jada says quickly before walking back out of the room.

The four of you stand shocked for a moment.

“We’re meeting Harry?” Rachel asks incredulously.

“I guess so,” you answer.

“Like, all of us?” Violet questions.

“Seems that way,” you reply.

“He probably just wants to see his little omega again,” Amelia teases, earning an eye roll from Violet and a head shake from Rachel.

You laugh along, trying to cover your true reaction to hearing that. Because they have no idea how much you want that or how right it feels to be called his omega, even if you know that will never happen.

“Come on, I could use a water,” Violet says and the four of you grab some refreshments. After a little while Jada comes back and has the four of you follow her through the halls.

“We’re gonna make a quick stop first. Harry is finishing up on something but in the meantime you guys can meet the band,” Jada explains.

Entering the band dressing room is as overwhelming as it is thrilling. In the weeks since the last show you attended, you’ve watched numerous clips from the concerts. Most of the time you were focused on Harry, but you spent plenty of time admiring the talent of his band members as well.

They’re all incredibly welcoming, taking the time to talk to all of you. After a few minutes Sarah pulls you aside.

“I just wanted to check in and see how you’ve been the last few weeks,” she says.

You almost just give her a cheerful lie, saying you’ve been totally fine. But you can tell she isn’t simply asking to be polite. She cares. She truly wants to know how you’ve been.

“I’ve been okay. Not great, but I mean, not terrible,” you finally reply.

“What’s been going on?” she continues.

“Well, I’ve been having some pretty bad nightmares. You know, bad dreams about that alpha, and what happened, and what could have happened. And I’ve just been feeling a bit off, like, shaky and cold and restless. I think it’s probably the stress from that night. But I’ve found some ways to cope and they’re working so it’s not too bad.”

Sarah gives you a calculating look. You expect her to ask more questions, press you for more details, but instead she says, “We’re here for you, you know that right? Anything you need. We care about you.”

You’re almost thrown by the genuine compassion from a practical stranger. Sure, she saved you from a dangerous situation, but that still doesn’t explain why this big-time musician cared so deeply for you, just a regular person. And then you put yourself in her shoes for a second, imagining what she went through that night. Alphas, or at least good alphas, have an innate desire to help and protect omegas. Hearing your distress, seeing you cornered and nearly unconscious could not have been easy for her. But she stayed calm the whole time, handling the situation perfectly.

Before your emotions can get the better of you, you smile and say, “Thank you, so much. For everything you did that night and for being there for me now. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, love. Would it be alright if I gave you a hug?”

You nod and she pulls you in. There’s a faint trace of her tea and ocean scent, and you repress your omega nature telling you to take a deep breath of the alpha smell.

As you pull away, Jada walks back into the room. She collects you and your friends and leads you down the hall. You recognize where you are now and start to grow more anxious and excited knowing that you’ll see Harry again soon.

You have no idea what to expect with this reunion. Will he still seem to care about you as much as he did last time? Will his alpha remember your omega and the connection that seemed to exist between the two? Or will it become glaringly obvious that everything was in your head, and he was just being nice and taking care of a fan in trouble? You figure it will probably be that last choice, that he’ll treat you just the same as he treats Violet, Amelia, and Rachel.

Finally, you reach the room, and Jada knocks, waiting to hear Harry’s response before opening the door and ushering your group inside. Suddenly feeling very shy, you stay behind your friends, like you’re trying to disappear. Harry introduces himself to the others and then he’s standing right in front of you.

Not wanting to be rude, you lift your face to greet him. He reaches out to shake your hand, saying, “Hello, Y/N, it’s good to see you again.”

You stutter out, “Nice to see you too,” while actively focusing on keeping your omega at bay. This simple touch is both electrifying and comforting, and it leaves you wishing for more. You bite back a whine and take a deep breath to center yourself.

This backfires, because now you can pick up Harry’s scent around you. He’s definitely wearing scent blockers again, but the smell has permeated some objects in the room. You know your beta friends are completely unaware of it, but it’s all you can focus on.

Harry invites you all to sit down and get comfortable. He spends time with your group, getting to know everyone, joking around, answering questions about himself and his music.

After a little while Jada comes back to lead you all to your seats since the opening act is about to start.

“It was lovely meeting you all. Jada, could you bring Rachel, Violet, and Ameila to the lounge and come back for Y/N? I wanted to speak with her for a minute. That is, if you’re comfortable with that,” Harry says.

The last part is directed at you, and everyone pauses to see your reaction.

“Yea, that’s fine with me,” you reply after a moment. Truthfully you’re nervous to be alone with him. Not because you’re uncomfortable or scared, but because you’re worried that you’ll somehow make a fool of yourself.

Everyone else leaves the room and Harry wordlessly motions to the couch. The two of you sit side by side, angled to face each other. It’s silent for a minute as you wait for him to say whatever is on his mind.

“I wanted to ask how you’ve been. I know what happened must have been pretty traumatizing for you. I almost got your number from Jada to text you, but I didn’t want to be pushy or nosey or anything,” he finally says.

You can’t help but smile as he rambles, completely endeared by this bashful alpha.

“First, you’re more than welcome to text me if you’d like.” You pause, surprised at how forward you just were. “And uhm, it’s been rough, but manageable. Some bad dreams. Some shakiness. Things like that.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Douse some clothes in your scent so I can surround myself with it at all times, you think to yourself but somehow manage not to say it out loud.

What you reply instead is, “No, I think I have it under control.”

“Alright, if you’re sure. But please let me know if you need something. I know the idea that omegas need an alpha taking care of them is antiquated but I can’t help it when it comes to you.”

“Me?” you ask. “Like specifically? Or all omegas?”

He chuckles shyly and says, “To be fair I know very few omegas. But I’ve never really felt this protective over someone before. I couldn’t help but think about you the last few weeks. Worry about you, really.”

“Because I got hurt at one of your shows?”

“That’s part of it. But, ah, there’s more than that, I think.” You try not to get your hopes up, try not to think that maybe he likes you the way you like him. How could he? He’s a world-famous popstar and you literally sit at a computer and organize data all day. You don’t even have any fun hobbies. Literally nothing about you is interesting. You’re nothing like the girls he’s dated in the past.

He takes in your silence and continues, saying, “I feel connected to you. And I’d like to get to know you better. What I’d really like is to consider you a friend, rather than just an acquaintance.”

“I would like that too,” you reply calmly.

“In that case, would I be able to get your phone number?”

You bite back the squeal of excitement trying to escape and say, “Yes, of course you can.”

The two of you exchange numbers, and you take note of the coy smile on Harry’s face as you do so.

There’s a knock at the door and Jada pops in, letting you know she’ll be waiting in the hallway to show you to your seat. You and Harry both stand, and he says, “Y/N, it’s been wonderful seeing you again. I hope you enjoy the show.”

“Thank you again for the tickets, and for getting us backstage tonight.”

“My pleasure.” He opens his arms, inviting you in for a hug. It’s a new line you’re crossing, having only touched hands before, but you don’t even hesitate. His arms wrap around your shoulders as yours go to his waist. Your nose is dangerously close to his scent gland. You turn your head away from his neck in order to resist the temptation to take a deep breath searching for his delicious smell.

You force yourself to pull away before you get too comfortable in his embrace. The two of you share another shy smile before you grab your purse and head out to follow Jada.

The second you get to the private lounge your friends start asking questions, wanting to know every detail of your time alone with Harry. You tell them that he checked how you were doing, and that he wants to be friends. You also mention that you now have each other’s phone numbers.

“Oh my God, girl! That’s insane!” Rachel says.

“You can text Harry Styles. You can pick up your phone and call him, whenever you want,” Violet adds.

You laugh at their reactions and look at Amelia, surprised by her uncharacteristic silence. You laugh ever harder when you realize she’s literally stunned into silence.

Suddenly everyone in the venue starts screaming and you all redirect your attention to the stage as the show begins. It’s an amazing experience as you and your friends sing and dance along. More than once you think Harry is actually looking for you. He glances up to where you are as though searching the crowd to find you. He’s probably not, but you can’t help but hope that he is.

Violet drops you off at your home after the concert. You’re about to get into bed when your phone dings. A huge smile spreads across your face when you see a text from Harry saying, “Hope you enjoyed the show and got home safe! Sleep well.”

You think for a moment before replying, “You were fantastic! Thank you again. Good night!”

For the first time in weeks, you sleep peacefully through the night without any reminders of Harry’s scent in the room.

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

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1 @boomitsallie1 @rose-garden-dreamz

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you

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lovetorn · 1 year

Text

tonight you are mine — xavier thorpe

Guitarist!Xavier x Fem!Reader

Summary: Enid invites you to a gig with her new band, which leads to a certain guitarist taking an immediate interest in you.

Warnings: a little suggestive, singing (yes, this is a warning), idk music

A/N: i love this one, and i hope you will too.

W/C: 2.6k

“I promise you’ll love them. They’re like brothers to me. Except for Ajax, of course.” Enid giggled. “This is gonna be awesome!”

You smiled as she spoke over the sound of her pink Doc Martens slapping the concrete. Enid carried a tote bag full of what you didn’t know. All you had was your phone and a lip gloss tube, clueless as to why Enid insisted on taking so many belongings to the gig.

Enid only joined her boyfriend’s band as a lead singer last month, and you hadn’t seen them perform yet. You had never met the other two original band members, only Ajax, as he and Enid were almost attached at the hip. Enid had you listen to some demos over the few weeks she had been a part of it all, and you were beyond proud of your best friend.

“I think there’ll be a huge turnout tonight. Xavier told his college friends, and Rowan invited his study group. I can’t wait to get out there,” Enid grabbed your arm, a wide grin on her lips. “Aren’t you so excited? I am. I want you to hear these songs so bad.”

Your heart doubled in size as you listened. Enid was completely enamoured with the band despite only being in it for a short period, and you guessed that’s what made the boys so grateful to have her around—she was just as passionate as they were.

You smiled brightly at her and nodded. “I’m so proud of you, E. Soon, I’ll be waiting hours to get front-row at your concerts.” Then you widened your eyes jokingly. “I’ll have to fight teenagers to get tickets!”

Enid stopped you and turned toward you. She wore a giddy smile and shook her head. “You won’t be in line. You’ll be backstage. Duh.” Then she latched onto your other arm and shook your shoulders, both of you sharing the same elation, laughing together.

“Hey! What’re you girls doing?” A voice called from a car. You didn’t think Enid’s smile could get any bigger until she peeked around you to wave at her boyfriend. Ajax sat in his beat-up Subaru on the curb. Enid grabbed your hand and pulled you along toward the car.

“Just discussing our future success,” She exclaimed, opening the passenger door and sliding in. You got in the backseat and watched as the couple shared a kiss.

“Come on, at least wait until I’m out of the car.” You joked, covering your eyes. Ajax rolled his eyes and put his car in drive, pulling away from the sidewalk and back into the traffic.

“It’s okay, baby; she’s just jealous. She hasn’t gotten with anyone for months.” Enid threw you a teasing look and a cheeky smile before returning her gaze to the road. Your mouth opened and closed, no words forming on your lips as Ajax laughed.

You sighed obnoxiously and turned your attention to your phone. The pair in the front shared a few whispers before Ajax spoke.

“We’re sorry, Y/n. I bet there’ll be someone here tonight. There’s a lot of people coming.” He said, no hint of sarcasm in his tone. You met his eyes through the rearview mirror. “I know Xavier needs some, too, jeez!”

Enid slapped her boyfriend on the shoulder. “No! I will not let him anywhere near my beautiful Y/n.” It was the first time since this morning that you’d heard her voice so serious. “She will not be his rebound.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be a rebound, Jax. But thanks, though.” You falsely smiled and looked out the window. The sun had started setting a half hour ago, and the sky was painted a deep tangerine.

“Just saying! Ever since he broke up with Wednesday, he’s been so pissed off. Nearly had my head on a stick because I ordered tomatoes on his sandwich. He’s fucking crazy!”

You had heard stories of Xavier, mostly from Enid. Tall, green-eyed, goofy, and sometimes timid. He intrigued you, yet you’d never seen him.

“Okay, Y/n. Jax and I are going backstage for like 20 minutes. Will you be okay on your own? I don’t want to leave you alone, and I know you hate that.” Enid explained as the car pulled into a parking spot behind the small venue.

You nodded in approval and got out of the car. “Yeah, that’s fine, don’t worry about me. Go be a rockstar.”

She gave you a grin and a hug. “I’ll dedicate ‘swoon’ to you.” Laughing, you pulled back.

“I hope so. We wouldn’t want Ajax getting a big head.”

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

You stood at the front of the crowd, securing the spot the moment you entered the doors of the building. As expected, the venue was packed. Knowing Enid was beyond ecstatic, you didn't doubt she was a little nervous.

Your mouth was sticky from the fresh layer of lip gloss you applied not 2 minutes ago, and you moved your lips together to ensure it was evenly coated. You wiped the corners of your mouth with your fingertips, and a short cough rang through the room, indicating one of the band member's microphones was on. You looked up and noticed an unfamiliar set of eyes focused on you. Your gaze quickly darted away to notice Ajax already sitting at his place behind the drums and again to see another new face on the other side of the stage. The boy had glasses and held a bass guitar. All who was missing from the stage was Enid.

Suddenly, the lights turned a deep purple, and the chords of ‘Monodrama’ started playing through the speakers. You looked back towards the first guy whose hair hung in his eyes as he plucked at his guitar strings, his body hunched over slightly. You watched him in curiosity and confusion. They were starting without Enid?

But your question was soon answered when the ball of sunshine you called your best friend came running out on stage, a microphone up to her lips as she sang the first line. Your face broke out in a smile. As the song continued, you saw her become more comfortable in front of this many people. She pointed at you and jumped around.

You nodded to the beat, mouthing the lyrics you knew before your eyes drifted to the long-haired electric guitarist. Xavier. As he played, his eyes met yours again. His dimples indented his face as he smirked, tongue poking his right cheek. You felt your face go warm, and soon, he leaned forward into his mic to join Enid on the chorus. You were in awe of how well their voices went together. He knew what he was doing and wasn’t afraid to show it.

Xavier opened his eyes to see you already staring at him after the chorus. Shivers ran down his spine as he watched you sing the words to the song he wrote. Sure, many girls had done exactly what you were doing, but the difference was he knew who you were—Enid’s best friend. The girl who his bandmate never shut up about, and Xavier had been eager to meet you. He continued your minor stare-off, grinning smugly to himself when you broke the eye contact, a smile of your own pulling at your lips.

The lights had turned blue throughout the song, highlighting Xavier's high cheekbones and long face. You had to force your eyes away from him to gain control over yourself.

Once the fourth song ended, Enid spoke to Xavier before she went backstage for a break. Her shoes were killing her. Four songs of jumping around. Four songs of a game of cat and mouse to play out between you and Xavier. One would look away when the other glanced in their direction, and only thrice had you caught each other staring.

You watched as Xavier walked up to the lead microphone, his converse only feet away from you. Expecting a new song to start, you kept your eyes on the bass drum to stop yourself from looking up at Xavier. You didn’t expect him to take a step forward and crouch in front of you. Your eyebrows raised when he held your gaze, his fingers moving in a lazy come hither motion. When you pushed onto your toes, he leaned down to your ear, his hot breath on your neck. His fingers tangled in the long strands of your hair as he pulled you closer, his fingertips scorching your scalp.

“Next one’s for you.” He said. His voice was so thick you’d think this throat was lined with honey, golden and sweet, and the crowd around you faded as your ears rang. Xavier pulled away from you and used his ring-clad finger to brush the tip of your nose. Your ears went hot, and you took a deep breath to control your racing heart.

The room turned green, and for a second, you thought you must've fallen into a dream. Xavier towered over you, his teeth pulling at his bottom lip as he adjusted the microphone stand, maintaining eye contact with you. It was a sensual moment that should only occur in the depths of the night in a bedroom. His dimples and devilish smile were the cause of the butterflies in your stomach, and you had never felt under such scrutiny. But it was an illusive feeling to be the focal point of his attention.

You knew the song as soon as Xavier started playing. Tonight You Are Mine. The sound brought you out of your daze.

“This is a new song I wrote, like, last week,” Xavier said before the crowd cut him off. His soft laugh echoed through the room as the noise died down, his eyes finding yours again. “We’re gonna play it for you tonight if that’s okay?”

Enid had given you the demo of this one only four days ago, as she said it was mandatory for you to hear it before tonight’s show. The song was one she was excited to learn, and who were you to deny her of sharing her passion? So you listened. And you listened, and listened, and told Enid it was your favourite one yet. And it was. The song was wholly sultry, and you found yourself going back to it each time you put your headphones on. She must’ve passed on the news.

In a sense, I'm such a mess watching you The air is cold, so hard to breathe Still, your breath is all I see

You could hardly breathe when he looked at you like that, played his guitar, and sang intimate lyrics to you. You were utterly entranced by his voice, hands, smile. He looked ethereal on stage like he was destined to be on one.

Don't be so naive You know that you are all I see

To your disappointment and relief, he broke eye contact with you only a few times—you weren’t sure how long you could stand under his intimidating and dizzying gaze.

But, it only spurred you on more. It made you believe you also had some power in this uncharted territory. You watched him sing through your eyelashes, the rasp in his voice making you warm.

So let me slip inside your ultraviolet disguise The daylight holds you close But tonight you are mine

Xavier’s eyes were heavy-lidded as he played through the guitar solo. He knew it was inevitable that he would have to face you after the show; sometimes, the thrill of performing made him cocky. He hoped you’d still like him when you discovered he was pretty reserved when he wasn’t in front of a crowd. Yet, none of his insecurities deterred him from wanting you. Because when you looked at him like that, he needed nothing more.

After the song finished, Xavier winked at you, and you desperately needed to get out of the crowd, go outside, and fill your lungs with cool, fresh air that would free you from the irrational thoughts in your head. You didn’t know the guy, but still, you wanted him more than anything.

Enid’s voice brought you back to earth. “Thank you for coming out tonight, everyone! I hope you had a good night and liked our music enough to come back.” She laughed. It was obvious everyone in the room had fallen in love with her personality throughout the night. Enid carried herself with such self-assurance it was difficult to find why you wouldn’t like her.

The only thing that could pull your eyes away from her grand smile was the burning on your cheek. Your eyes flickered to Xavier, who stood off to the side with his guitar. His hair was now tied back in a half-up style, and you swore your knees almost buckled.

As everyone filtered out, you remained in your spot. Enid came bounding over and jumped down to stand with you. “Did you have a good time?” You could see she was nervous to ask.

“Of course I did! And you played my favourite song,” You replied, grabbing her hand in reassurance. Enid smiled sheepishly.

“Well, I didn’t play it. Someone else did.”

“Well, someone told the other someone to play it, so.”

Enid wiggled her eyebrows, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I saw how he was looking at you. I knew he would like you, who wouldn’t?”

You rolled your eyes, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“But, you’re still off-limits. Only until he gets over his ex. That wouldn’t be fair.” Enid rambled before she stopped and straightened up. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

You looked at her hesitantly, unsure why she would be saying that. “What?”

“Bye, Y/n. Hey, Xav." Then she pointed him behind you. "Don't fuck this up." You assumed he made a face at her from behind you because then she laughed and walked backstage.

You’d never felt your stomach drop and your heart rate speed up in such synchrony. He was the devil in converse and a white tee.

“Y/n.” Your name on his lips was something you could get used to.

“Xavier.” You said, turning to face him.

“So you do know me.” He was taller than you. A lot taller than you assumed, and it made your legs weak. “I was under the impression that you only knew Ajax.”

You shrugged. “Enid mentioned you a few times, so I had to come and check out these band guys she was hanging around.”

“Final verdict?” Xavier’s mouth was pulled into a smile at the corners.

You purposefully took your time to make a decision. Taking a step back, you sized him up. He stood still, arms crossed over his chest as you eyed his hair. You rubbed your chin in false thought and then nodded.

Feeling bold, you looked him in the eyes. “Yeah, you’re cute. And talented. So, I guessed you’re alright.”

Xavier’s cheeks were dusted with pink as he laughed. You smiled proudly, pleased you got the reaction you’d wanted from him.

He then moved closer to you and leaned down so his eyes aligned with yours. “Well, I find you alright too. How’d you feel if I asked you to hang out in about…” He twisted his mouth in thought, his eyes flickering down to your lips. “Half an hour?”

You bit the inside of your lip in habit. “That would depend on what we would be doing.”

Xavier stood to his full height with an unconcerned expression as he uncrossed his arms and opened himself to you. “Whatever you want. My treat.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Tempting.” His lopsided smirk and tired green eyes were too easy to fall for. “But, yes. I would like that.”

His lips slipped into an easy grin and he nodded, throwing this thumb over his shoulder. “Sweet. I’ll be back in half an hour to take you on our date.” He winked.

You shook your head, laughing as he stepped up onto the stage. “Not a date!”

Xavier didn’t turn back to face you as he replied. “We’ll see!”

Were you in too deep too quick?

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

songs mentioned: - tonight you are mine - the technicolors - swoon - beach weather - monodrama - benches

feedback is greatly appreciated! thank you for reading <3

PART 2

#xavier thorpe oneshot #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x fem!reader #guitarist!xavier #wednesday imagine #wednesday fanfic #Wednesday

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chloeangelic · 3 months

Text

I’ve spent the past week getting slandered in this community with not a shred of evidence, proof, or receipts of me being a mean girl, “Wish Regina George”, a bully, an asshole, someone who spends more time answering anons than I do writing, or any of the other things I’ve seen people say about me out of absolutely fucking nowhere, seemingly because people have grievances towards Gracie that I know nothing about. I appreciate everyone who has checked in on me and asked how I’m doing.

ETA: I have spoken to one of the people who posted statements and anons about me and we have squashed the beef. The statements made about me have been debunked and they have deleted their posts. Please leave me and my friends alone - I've gotten harassed directly and indirectly by anons and posts for two months and I'm tired. I'm not gonna prostrate myself and try to convince the internet that I'm a good person when I know I've done my best to always be kind and respectful in this community. My words will inevitably be twisted and I feel paralyzed. The damage to my reputation has already been done.

This is the only time I’ll address this, and my anons will not be turned back on because this is literally slander and a waste of everyone’s time. I’ve seen multiple vague posts about me as well and I’ve chosen to ignore it all, but it gets to a point where it feels like bullying and I’m done with it. When someone goes on tumblr live to rehash the same shallow shit talking post about me (i.e. talking shit about people they’re accusing of talking shit), that’s when I feel like my limit has been crossed, and since that same live devolved into an advertisement for the host’s own writing… This no longer reads like vigilante justice.

Let me get one thing straight: I am here to write about dick, cock and that old man. I am extremely grateful for the friends I’ve made along the way, and I am beyond appreciative for my readers who support me and who like what I come up with. I am 27 years old, I have a fulltime job, and this is one of my hobbies. If you think I’m going to spend my time in a fandom spamming group chats and being catty, I literally don’t know what to tell you. The few uncomfortable situations I’ve had on here have been addressed and squashed very quickly, whether that’s misunderstandings, accusations or anything else. In a creative space, you are bound to butt heads with people occasionally, or have people who dislike you, and that is fine. I know I have an aloof persona on here, I don’t expect everyone to like me.

I didn’t block anyone up until two days ago when this tumblr live host posted three anon asks in a row about me, and I decided to block the people who seemingly agreed with anons insisting I’m a mean girl, asshole etc. cause why the fuck wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t anyone? I don’t understand why on earth they’re so mad about me blocking them if they dislike me so much already. My shit is still on ao3 if they want to read it.

I don’t know what my mutuals do in their own DM’s, or group chats they’re in that I don’t participate in, because I stay in my lane and I spend my time writing. Of course I don’t condone bad behavior but how am I supposed to know what happens in GCs and servers I’m literally not in? Or conversations in servers where I’m not active? I have not witnessed any of my mutuals talking shit in any GCs, period. That’s all I can say. Additionally, this whole big/elite writers discord people were talking about a while ago - if that exists, I wasn’t even invited lmfao how’s that for being a big writer?

One anon said I was an asshole when they tried to have a conversation with me months back, and I assume this was my Rendezvous anon who I was snarky to cause they were snarky to me. I make it very clear that I have limited patience for anons, and when people in my comments respond back to them, they are responding to a statement that is separate from the person who sent it.

I am not entertaining this insanity any further than this. I will continue to post my old man porn and interact with my mutuals and reblog gif sets of that same old man cause that’s what I’m on here for. If you don’t like me, you are well within your rights, I assume you have your reasons, and that is ultimately none of my business. Everyone has the right to curate their own experience on a website like this.

Love,

Daddy

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augustvandyne · 3 months

Note

Angela Lopez x reader

Angela is jelly because a rookie is hitting on reader rookie doesn’t realize they’re married until they have a group outing

i don’t like how this came out, so i apologize if you don’t enjoy it. also, picture whoever you want as the rookie!

jealousy

She heard your laugh from across the station.

The two of you had met when you were a rookie, and she was your training officer. But now you’d became a T.O., while Angela moved up to a detective.

It annoyed her because sometimes she’d only see you an hour a day until the two of you rejoined at home.

It also annoyed her, because it seemed that your new rookie couldn’t keep his hands or eyes to himself. He also had a way with words, as in, he was a flirt.

He’d only been there a few days, as the new group of rookies just came in, so you couldn’t blame him for not knowing you were married.

You didn’t even really know he was flirting with you, you just thought he was being nice. The two of you had just found a mutual hobby when you guys pulled the shop in.

You also don’t even notice that Angela is watching or even worried about the flirting.

He touches your arm, and Angela has to force herself to keep calm and collected at her desk.

It was nearing the end of the shift, about twenty minutes left or so, and Angela was tempted to just leave early with you.

But that idea flew out the door when she remembered everyone was going out tonight to celebrate Nolan’s birthday.

She clenches her jaw and tries to keep her focus on the computer, but your voice keeps making its way to her ears, and it’s distracting her.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Nyla looks up with a bored expression on her face.

Angela bites her lip and looks to the side, debating on whether or not to tell Nyla.

“That rookie is flirting with Y/n,” Angela slightly squints.

“Well, she is gorgeous,” Nyla tilts her head to look at the two of you. “But, you know, maybe that’s his type.”

“Well my wife is not up for grabs,” Angela goes to stand, but Nyla keeps her from standing and tells her to sit back down.

“You’ll just make matters worse if you say something in the middle of the station,” Nyla shook her head. “Shifts almost over, they can’t possibly talk that long.”

Oh, but you do. Angela changes and comes out to see the two of you still going on and on about only god knows what.

You don’t even notice her standing there, really, until she says she’ll meet you in the car.

She hears you tell him it was nice talking and then, of course, you being the person you are, you invite him along to the celebration.

He accepts, and lets you know he’ll be by soon.

You change quickly and then head out to the car where Angela is impatiently waiting for you.

She drives in silence for a few minutes until you say, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Angela shrugs it off.

“If you’re tired, we don’t have to go tonight,” You say.

“No, it’s Nolan. We’re going,” Angela keeps her eyes on the road, and you get the feeling something is wrong.

“Okay,” You push it to the back of your mind as Angela pulls the car into the bar parking lot.

As soon as you get out of the car, Angela is at your side, her arm wrapped around your waist.

Mostly everyone, minus the rookie is there, so it’s hard to miss them in the back corner.

Angela and you stand as you order your drinks, and that’s the exact time the rookie makes his entrance.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

He tilts his head closer to you so you can hear him, and that’s what has Angela losing it.

“Listen here, asshat,” Angela steps in front of you.

“Ange—“

“She’s married,” Angela blinks. “To me. So if you want to go after a married woman, go after someone else’s wife. She is mine, and you will stop touching, looking, and flirting with her. Have a nice night.”

Angela turns around to see you with your mouth open.

“What?” Angela has a hand on her hip, and you think it’s the hottest thing ever. “He needs to know what’s mine.”

You laugh and kiss her back when she smashes her lips into yours.

“That was hot,” Your grab her hand. “Now, let’s go celebrate Nolan’s birthday.”

#the rookie x reader #please ask me about them #the rookie #send anons #send asks #i love her #angela lopez x reader #angela lopez #angela lopez is mommy tbh

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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 3 months

Text

The Gang's All Here

Biker!John Price X Wife!Reader

It was adorable, you were the mom of the group when it came to everything, especially when they were on leave. You’d invite everyone over and feed them until they were all too full.

a/n:this fic was inspired by this GORGEOUS artwork by @yakowo and I could not get the idea out of my head, also for anyone who voted in favor for the tattoos? you're welcome (P.S. I'm so sorry for making you guys wait MONTHS for this!)

(These are the tattoos I picture John having!)

John wasn’t the type of person that you’d expect to come onto base riding a motorcycle, a Harley Davidson no less. So, when Soap and Gaz were outside cracking jokes together their jaws dropped as John parked the roaring beast. When the hell had he managed to find the time to ride? It felt like they’d been gone for the last year nonstop. Gaz had heard all about how much you missed John. It was adorable, you were the mom of the group when it came to everything, especially when they were on leave. You’d invite everyone over and feed them until they were all too full.

“Laswell approved the time off, we’re gonna get to spend Halloween with the missus this year.” Gaz was probably more excited than anyone.

It may have been due to the fact you were all planning on matching, Gaz had picked Simon’s name from the hat, while you and Johnny were going to be matching. John downright refused, saying he couldn’t trust the boys to pick his costume. He’d made you swear to secrecy, no one was allowed to know his costume until Halloween. You weren’t complaining though, not after he’d promised to let you help ‘grease him up’.

“Better not get too rowdy this year, lord knows Johnny nearly got arrested last time.” Of course that had been because someone had tried to roughly grab you when John was off getting you drinks.

The boys had always been quite protective of you, doing whatever they could to make sure you were safe and keep all the creeps away. You’d been married to their captain the entire time they’d all known one another, so you were the co-captain in their eyes. Johnny was definitely the most protective, he saw you as a little sister(even though you were older than him). Simon would simply glare at anyone who looked at you wrong, scaring them off before they could utter a single word. Gaz would throw down with anyone who dared utter a single bad thing about you, how dare you disrespect his co-captain!

“He said he’d be on his best behavior, something about not wanting to anger the missus this time.” You’d turned into a scolding mother when Johnny began to act out, it was hilarious to watch.

John had thrown you over his shoulder even while you were kicking and screaming to be put down so you could continue your scolding. Johnny learned that night not to piss you off lest he deal with your wrath for the rest of the night. It was a comical thing, knowing you could insight fear into a man who sees death for a living.

“Better not, she told me they’re doing matching costumes and I can’t risk her needin’ to get a costume last minute.” That wasn’t to say you wouldn’t be able to find something from your closet, but you’d planned this months prior.

“Simon and I are too, you’re gonna be the odd man out captain.” Gaz smirked over at the other man, noticing the way his brow raised slightly.

“You and Ghost are wearing matching costumes? How’d you convince him?” Simon wasn’t afraid to let loose and enjoy himself, but wearing a costume to match with Kyle? That was shocking.

“Said he wanted to wear something to help get some attention, can’t say much else.” Gaz was going to keep his lips sealed until halloween had arrived, it was going to be the surprise of the century.

John knew better than to try and pry, this was out of his hands and as long as you were happy, he was happy. His mind began to wander for a few seconds, what would the holidays be like when you had your own little tots running around. You’d probably dress them up into cute halloween costumes and take them trick or treating. It didn’t sound like such a horrible thing at the moment, seeing you take the little ones up to the doors to get candy you’d sneak for yourself. No, no thinking about things like that when you’re at work and have important things to do, like a mountain of paperwork.

“Keep an eye on things and make sure the new recruits aren’t acting like idiots, please.” John waited for Gaz to acknowledge his words before heading down to his office.

The picture from your wedding day was the only one he’d been willing to take to base with him, not wanting to risk the wrong person knowing about you. His wedding ring sat alongside his dog tags, resting against his chest every day. It was a reminder that no matter how stressful things could be, he would always go home to you at the end of the day. They weren’t due for another assignment until the end of November, mainly because Laswell needed more intel first. Maybe that was the only reason they were allowed the few weeks of leave that was granted. Oh well.

It was nearing seven at night by the time John realized he hadn’t so much as left his desk to get a drink or even a bite to eat. Shit, you were going to absolutely ream his ass when he got home and you found out. This wasn’t the first time, and absolutely wasn’t going to be the last that he’d completely forgotten about himself. Simon had given him hell from time to time, telling him he needed to eat before you showed up at the base yourself. It had only happened once, though that was more due to the fact he needed the paperwork he’d forgotten and not because he hadn’t left his desk for..ten hours.

Standing up and stretching his tired limbs he groaned at the exertion and cracking from his idle bones. Shit, he had definitely been sitting for too long if standing for a few seconds sent shivers down his spine almost instantly. Time to get something to eat and head home for the next few weeks. He’d barely made it out of his office before Johnny was running over with what could only be described as childlike glee.

“Captain! Was hopin’ I could catch you.” The plus side of working alongside Johnny was that he could get shit done when necessary, the downside is when he was excited the man could talk forever.

“Just grabbing a quick bite and heading out, have you got your leave papers yet?” John didn’t have much time to talk, not if he wanted to make it home before you were in bed already.

“Just this mornin’, I wanted to ask about the bike.” Johnny was nervous, given that the last time he’d seen one was nothing more than a quick glance on their last mission.

“What about it?” John turned into the cafeteria, grabbing a plastic wrapped sandwich that was most likely made that morning.

Johnny wrung his hands together nervously, if questioned he would vehemently deny that his palms had become sweaty when asking his higher-up about something as simple as a motorcycle. Maybe he could just ask you about it instead, surely John had told you some things here and there and you’d managed to pick up any information.

“I uhh, I was wondering where you got it, she’s a beaut.” There, he’d ripped off the bandaid and didn’t need to make this any harder than it needed to be.

“Found her through a seller, she was in pretty rough shape so I’ve been fixin’ her up on leaves.” The bike was John’s pride and joy, second of course to you, but he loved his harley in a different way.

“Oh! Okay, that’s cool.” Johnny nodded, keeping a slight distance between himself and his captain.

“Any reason you’re asking?” John grabbed a bottle of water before turning to sit down at one of the open tables.

Johnny felt his nerves skyrocket, how does one admit they’d always wanted to ride but were too afraid of nearly getting themselves killed? His mother had given him hell for it, saying he’d lose his life by being reckless. It had deterred the idea for years, but seeing so many bikes made him want to do it anyway.

“No reason, see you later cap.” Johnny nodded once before heading out of the room.

John wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t confused, it wasn’t often that people even saw him on the rumbling biped vehicle, but given the opportunity he always took it. Nothing more invigorating than feeling the wind whip around you, the sound of the bike echoing behind. You would beg John to take you for a ride constantly, especially on date night.

The recruits were quiet as they sat amongst themselves, discussing what their next drills would possibly be. It suddenly hit John how old he was, he’d been so used to making sure that everyone else was taken care of that he hadn’t taken the time to really look at life. You’d both discussed having children when the both of you were truly ready. If it came down that neither of you would truly be ready for a child, then neither of you would become parents. He’d just be the fun uncle that could send the kiddos home hyped up on sugar.

After he’d finished his sandwich and water it was time to head out. Any paperwork was sent off for review, and if it wasn’t up to Laswell’s standards she could wait until he was back. Getting home and relaxing for the rest of the night was high on his priority list at the moment. Maybe the two of you could order take out instead of cooking, maybe even a glass of wine to go along with it. You’d be dealing with everyone in a few days anyway, god where had the year gone that it was already Halloween again.

The sun was nearly gone by the time John had made it out of his office, grabbing the keys to his bike and heading towards the garage. Ghost’ voice was booming, words sharp as a whip towards whomever he was angry with. John sighed deeply before turning towards the shooting range, if it was a new recruit this could get ugly fast. And much to his annoyance it was not one, but four new recruits, each of them looked terrified as Simon nearly towered over them.

“Do you think this is a joke? Something to laugh about?!” Ghost was enraged, hands clenched into fists by his side.

“No sir.” They spoke in unison, each with their heads down, gazes locked on the floor.

“The next time you come in here thinkin’ you’re gonna play with the weapons, I will have you removed, permanently.” Ghost took gun safety quite seriously, one wrong move could end the lives of multiple people.

“Yes sir.” They all nodded, waiting for further instructions.

“Get out of my sight.” Ghost crossed his arms over his chest, waiting until they all scrambled away before turning to face John.

There were no words shared between the two men, neither of them needed to say anything to get their points across anyway. However, John wanted to make sure that Simon would be alright before leaving for the night.

“Still coming over for Halloween?” John was still curious on what Gaz had picked for the costumes, couldn’t be too bad.

“I promised your missus I would anyway.” No one on the task force could tell you no, it was adorable.

“I’ll see you then, make sure the recruits stay out of trouble.” John nodded at him, heading down to the garage so he could get home to you.

The night air was cold, bike rumbling beneath him as he wound his way along the roads that lead to your shared home. He’d sent a quick text to you before he left, telling you to order dinner so the two of you could relax together. Good food, a glass of wine, and the most amazing wife that he could ever ask for sounded like a perfect night to him. Now if he could ignore the clawing thoughts that came with work that would be even better. Laswell knew better than to call him unless it was an absolute emergency that he needed to attend to.

The light was on outside as he pulled into the driveway, parking the bike and waiting until it was settled to step off. The sound of music echoed through the partially opened window, the sound of your voice following along with the lyrics. John snickered to himself, it was definitely a song from your younger years, it was definitely a 90’s boyband. If you were letting loose, what would he walk into? Shaking off his shoulders he headed into the house, locking the door behind him before slipping off his boots.

“Baby!” You ran over, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight embrace.

“Hello to you too, having a party without me?” John’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush to his body.

“Never, can’t have a party without the man of the hour.” You pressed a light kiss to his lips, giggling as he tried to pull you back for more.

The two of you laughed happily, dancing together until the doorbell rang loudly, letting you know your dinner had arrived. You had mentioned a movie you’d wanted to see earlier that week, talking about how scary it was from your friends. John could handle some little movie no problem at all, everything about it was fake anyway.

“Alright, got our food, drinks, time to turn on the movie.” You wiggled into your seat, pressing play on the remote before digging in to your food.

The movie, for lack of a better word, was absolutely terrible. It was sort of a tradition in your home that during October you would watch corny horror movies whenever John was home. It was something you’d been adamant on, refusing to let the tradition die out. Of course you’d watch the classic horror movies to help break up the monotony of the bad ones. John had insisted you watch The Thing recently, until you remembered the kennel scene. Watching poor animals, even fake ones, get hurt always makes you upset.

“What do we watch next? We’ve got a few days before the party, and you don’t need to go back until after.” You popped a few pieces of popcorn into your mouth, chewing slowly so you didn’t get any kernels stuck between your teeth.

John pondered for a brief moment, he’d loved watching the classics, but maybe something new could be better? No, something from the 90’s maybe.

“What about Candyman?” It was one of your favorites, having grown up as a horror fan you clung onto the infamous movie.

“A man after my own heart.” You giggled and grabbed your remote to turn the movie on.

The only light in your living room, besides the TV of course, were the string lights you’d hung up in the middle of September. You’d claimed it would help give ambience to the movie watching experience, and John definitely had to admit that it had. It gave off an eerie vibe that he couldn’t quite place, but given that it was Halloween he wasn’t going to complain.

You could practically recite the movie, the way Tony Todd portrayed the character of Candyman so well never ceased to amaze you. You’d wanted to have a career in film making, but given that the industry was one of the hardest to get into, your dreams were crushed.

You wouldn’t have met John had you followed your dreams.

You hummed softly, it was true, had you followed your heart you would have never met your husband. Sure you probably would’ve met someone in Hollywood, but it wouldn’t have been the same.

“Wait, what are you wearing for Halloween?” You glanced over at your husband.

“I’ve got a pair of overalls I’m gonna grease up. Go dressed as a mechanic.” John was nothing short of efficient. He’d found them one day after going through his clothes and tossing out anything that was either too old, or had holes to be thrown away.

“Hmm, that works.” You turned and put your attention back onto the movie on your screen.

You and Johnny would be matching, while Simon and Kyle would technically be matching. It had started as a joke but after discussing it, you had all agreed and the plans were set in stone. The costumes arrived a few weeks after you’d ordered them, the boys all paying you back right away. John of course had no idea what you were wearing, and you weren’t going to tell him until the very night of. It was going to be quite the surprise, you couldn’t wait for him to see.

Halloween

You were pulling on your undergarments, not wanting to spoil any surprises your husband might find later before quickly pulling on your dress. You’d been tempted to order a wig to truly match but you didn’t want to risk it. Instead you fixed up your hair, placing the headband before pulling on a pair of pantyhose. After a quick glance in the mirror you were happy with your look, pulling on the shoes and heading down to the living room. The boys had all crammed into your home, each of them taking their respective costumes to go and change. John had run to the store to get one final bag of candy, promising he’d be back in time to head to the party.

Kyle walked out in his amazing glory, the fluffy coat showing off his amazing physique.

“I have to admit, you make an amazing Ken.” You snickered and twirled your finger, telling him to give you a full view.

The costume was perfect, down to the headband and sunglasses he’d managed to find last minute. It was the only thing missing out of his entire get up.

“What can I say? I was born to be a total stud.” He smirked before bursting into laughter, both of you righting yourselves as Johnny walked out.

“I forgot how much I hated wearing boots sometimes.” Johnny muttered to himself.

The two of you had dressed as Velma and Daphne, Johnny had offered to be Velma since he was already a natural brunette. You weren’t going to argue with the man, the dress gave your husband even easier access.

“If you can tuck the bottom of the sweater under itself, it’ll look better.” You walked over and helped him adjust the dark orange sweater, brushing down the fabric of his skirt.

“Bettah?” Johnny glanced at you, hoping you could head out soon.

“Much.” You smiled and stepped back from him.

Before any of you could say anything else Simon walked out of the guest bathroom, the hot pink outfit causing all of your jaws to drop open. How Kyle had convinced him to dress up as cowboy Barbie you weren’t entirely sure, but god did he look fantastic.

“I have to admit, you look fucking hot right now.” Your eyes were wide, hands reaching up to mess with the green scarf wrapped around your neck.

“Thanks, this is all Kyle’s idea.” Simon tossed his bag down beside the couch.

“I’m not complaining, those pants are doing so much for your ass right now.” Your cheeks heated up before you caught the way Johnny was also eyeing him. At least you weren’t alone.

The sound of the front door opening suddenly caught your attention, your husband made it home with a few minutes to spare. Such a procrastinator that one was, now you’d be rushing out the door to get to the party.

“Sorry! Nearly got into a fight with someone who almost hit me on the way home. I just need to get dressed.” John dropped the candy into the large bowl, turning to face the rest of you.

His eyes landed on Simon first, a slight brow raised before he saw Kyle, followed by Johnny, and then lastly you.

“Don’t tell me. Kyle and Simon are Barbie and Ken, and you two are Daphne and Velma?” John snickered as he slipped off his shoes quickly.

“Good job, now go get dressed so we can leave!” You all but pushed your husband towards your bedroom.

You could discuss the costumes later when you were actually where you needed to be for the night, right now was not the time. The plus side is that you were within walking distance of the party, the downside was that you were definitely going to be late.

“Jeez, your arms look even bigger.” Kyle blurted out as Simon flexed his arms. Johnny was practically drooling at the sight.

“Alright, you guys head outside and I’ll see what’s taking John so long.” You waited until they’d all left, mainly to make sure poor Johnny didn’t pass out.

Shaking your head you made your way down to your bedroom, pushing the door open slowly so you didn’t startle him.

“Hey hun, are you…” You trailed off as you saw your husband, the white tank top he’d dirtied and greased up showed off the sleeves of tattoos as well as his back piece beautifully.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, let’s go hun.” John spritzed a couple sprays of cologne before heading over to you.

You watched the way his muscles ripped beneath the fabric, eyes glancing down to his legs beneath the coveralls. The arms over his coveralls were wrapped around his waist, giving him the look of being an actual mechanic. Jesus you weren’t going to be able to keep your hands off of him at this rate.

“I’ll have to remember to have someone take a photo of us when we get there.” You grabbed your wristlet and headed out of the house with John.

The other three, that were locked in a heated discussion, all fell silent as they saw their captain in a tank top.

“Holy shit, you’re covered in tattoos?!” Kyle was floored, he’d recently found out his captain rode motorcycles, but seeing this? This was all new.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve had these for years.” John merely shrugged, wrapping an arm around your waist as you all made the short walk to Kate’s house.

The music was loud enough that you could hear it outside, but it was clear that everyone was still able to have conversations. Kyle, Simon, and Johnny all took off the moment you got inside with John, causing you to roll your eyes. You just wanted one photo to at least remember the night, the costumes looked so good too!

“I’ll make sure they take a photo before we head home tonight, promise.” John pressed a kiss to your hair, leading you further into the party.

“Thank you.” You smiled as you leaned against him, avoiding any of the grease that could ruin your dress.

The party was lively, everyone complimenting your costume as well as John’s even asking a few questions about his tattoos. John was proud of the work he’d had done, especially the back piece he’d sat through over five sessions for. You loved when John got the recognition he deserved. The man was downright gorgeous, and you were reveling in the fact that he’d chosen you out of everyone.

The hours flew by, the drinks flowing through your system before John cut you off. He wasn’t going to risk getting you drunk like last time. You’d taken photos with all of your friends, giggling at the couples costume that Farah and Alex had done. He’d dressed up as a dinosaur while she was dressed like a handler. Everyone took photos with John, claiming they wanted to show off the tattoos he had and see if they could get something half as good. You knew better, it was only because of how gorgeous your husband was. You weren’t blind, even in regular clothes John was the most attractive man you’d ever met.

“Hey, why don’t I take you home? It’s getting late anyway.” John could see the way your eyes were drooping closed, exhaustion seeping into your bones.

“We gotta round up the boys too.” You’d offered up the spare bedrooms so they didn’t have to worry about driving home so late at night.

“Already did, sweetheart, so let’s go.” John scooped you up into his arms, saying goodbyes to everyone before making your way out of the house.

Your eyes slowly slipped closed as you rested against his chest, your feet sore from standing in the kitten heels for the last five hours. John didn’t so much as complain as he carried you to your shared home, opening the door to let everyone inside. Johnny didn’t hesitate to rip off his boots, tossing them aside before ripping off the sweater. John raised a brow at the younger man, watching as he hurriedly picked up his discarded items.

“Sorry, sir.” Johnny wasn’t going to let them lie around, would never do so in someone else’s home, but getting to strip down was his only thought.

“Just clean up, that's all I ask.” John turned and headed up to your bedroom, laying you on the plush mattress before turning to change into his own pajamas.

Your soft snores filled the air, chest rising and falling slowly as you slept peacefully on your bed. John chuckled and finished getting changed, turning to help you out of your own clothes. His eyes widened as he realized you had gotten new lingerie, jaw dropping open. He’d talk to you about it tomorrow, right now you were exhausted and needed some sleep.

After grabbing one of his more oversized shirts he helped ease you into the fabric, pulling off your headband and setting everything onto the dresser. You hadn’t so much as flinched the entire time, assuring John that you were completely asleep. He headed down to the living room, making sure the other three were settled before turning off the lights. It was fun getting to see everyone dressed up, simply enjoying themselves with good company.

“Thank you, for being the best thing I could ever ask for.” John crawled into bed beside you, pulling you flush to his chest.

You murmured softly in your sleep, wrapping your arms around his waist. There were definitely some things that the two of you needed to talk about.

Those could wait, for now he would simply hold you and enjoy himself.

tagging: @gaylemonshark @thesinsoflust @dante-mightdie @mh073099

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 11 months

Text

jealousy jealousy || Changbin x Reader

Summary: It's as you're working with Changbin on a school project — and he's being as infuriating as he always is — that he invites you to go see 3racha perform in a bar that night. You decide to take the opportunity, because you do find the group talented, and also, what could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 4.3k

Genres: college AU, rapper!Changbin

Warnings & Tags: jealousy, academic rivals to lovers, alcohol consumption, brief sleazy behavior from someone else, consensual kiss while under the influence, light angst, oc has insecurities

series masterlist

A/N: Similarly to the I.N. oneshot, please ignore the thing about music if you know better and it doesn't make sense, my years of studying music theory are far behind me :') Hope you'll enjoy the piece, would appreciate to know your thoughts on it if you do!

If you had had your say on this assignment or on your choice for a partner, you wouldn’t be sitting there, across from Seo Changbin, in his fucking studio, watching him nod his head as he’s working on the arrangement you’re supposed to turn in next week.

“The guidelines say we’re supposed to use an unusual time signature,” you say, partly to be annoying and partly because he’s literally using 4/4, which, like, come on. It’s like he’s trying to go against the rules.

“They’re used for a reason,” he replies after a good thirty seconds of silence, which could be because he was ignoring you or because he can’t multitask. “It’s more important to turn in something that’s good than something that follows the guidelines.”

“That’s not mutually exclusive.”

“You can’t let others tell you what to do,” he insists, still looking at his screen. “You have to make your own decisions based on what’s good for—”

“It sounds like you just can’t take a challenge,” you interrupt him and this time, he turns around to glare at you. For a second, he looks offended, which was the reaction you were going for and, you have to say, it brings you an evil satisfaction. Then a corner of his lips lift and he smirks.

You really don’t like how attractive you find that look on him.

“You think that’s going to work on me?”

You grit your teeth. Well, rationale and logic weren’t getting you anywhere so far, so this was at least worth a try.

“I’m not looking forward to you tanking my grade,” you reply with a shrug, attempting, and probably failing, to look nonchalant.

This time he scoffs before going back to the computer.

“It’s not going to tank our grade. The teacher values quality more than following the rules, and even if he didn’t, you shouldn’t change yourself to make someone happy.”

Valuable life advice, you’re sure. It just does not apply whatsoever when a grade is at stake. Unfortunately though, he is right about this teacher valuing ‘quality’, though you don’t like how subjective his view of it appears to be. You think there should be metrics when it comes to grading your students. Either way, so far Changbin’s been fucking breezing through this class because the teacher just adores everything he puts out. You think it’s a gross display of favoritism and you suspect that it has a lot to do with 3racha’s popularity, but everyone’s too busy making heart eyes at the golden boy to think about it.

And, look, you like 3racha. You think they’re talented. You don’t know where Chan finds the time to do music while being captain of the swimming team and all the other stuff he’s doing — seriously, when does he sleep —, you think Jisung’s a very talented singer, rapper, producer — basically a one man group already without needing to add the other two in— and Changbin’s… Yeah. Changbin’s good. There’s no way you could deny that. That’s not the problem.

The problem is that it doesn’t seem to have crossed his mind that there are some people in here who don’t have a record deal lined up for them as soon as they walk out of their graduation. Some people who are not going to have full creative control over their stuff until they’ve really established themselves, if that ever happens. Some people who also just simply enjoy figuring out a way of making something interesting, something good in ways they wouldn’t have thought of if they hadn’t been forced to deal with an obstacle of some sort barring them from picking the easiest solution.

The problem is that, as you reluctantly have to admit, Changbin isn’t picking the easiest solution. In fact, once you notice what he’s doing, you can’t help but lean forward on your seat, all your attention on him and his hands moving on the keyboard. Shit. It seems, infuriatingly, that he had a point.

“What’d you think?” he asks once he’s done, and you blink yourself back to reality after having watched him work his magic.

“It’s smart,” you admit. You’re not the type to lie just because you have an issue with him. “Using tertiary rhythms in 4/4 to give the impression of another time signature… Yeah. It’s good.”

You can practically see his ego getting bigger with every word you say. Dammit, you almost wish he were a hack.

“But,” you add, a little too be annoying and a little because you have an actual point to make, “I think you should start off with binary rhythms.”

Changbin visibly deflates, then frowns, and you realize belatedly that you might have been able to push back on the use of the time signature then and there. You think he’d have given in, if you still didn’t like the end result, but that hadn’t even occurred to you.

“Why?” he asks, folding his — impressive — arms over his chest. “That’d be boring.”

You shake your head, pushing yourself up next to him and taking the mouse out of his hands to start making the changes that are clear as day in your mind. The gesture seems to outrage him, but if you’re being honest that’s actually a plus in your book, so, tough to be him.

“You start out with something familiar,” you explain as you’re working, “to lull the listener into a false sense of security. Then you hit them with the unusual to have a bigger impact and to make them wonder how the piece got there. That way, they’ll think they’ll know exactly what you’re going for from the start and be more surprised when you go for something else.”

There are a few seconds of silence after that, before Changbin also leans forward, his body suddenly much closer to yours.

“You have to work on the transition some more if you’re going for that,” he says, and his breath tickles your cheek. “’cause it’s just gonna feel jarring if you don’t.”

“I was getting to that,” you say with a click of your tongue, elbowing him in the stomach in an attempt to keep him from messing with your work. Through the first, soft layer, you come in contact with strong abs, which doesn’t surprise you considering how much time he’s rumored to spend at the gym.

Not that you’re paying attention to these rumors or anything. It’s just— Know your enemy, or something.

He does manage to use his muscles pretty easily to get the mouse back, and after an undignified shriek when he wraps an arm around your body to lift you up and get you away, you admit defeat. If your cheeks are warm now, it’s just because of the effort.

It’s also the reason your heart beats faster, and it’s got nothing to do with the satisfied grin Changbin shoots back at you once he’s back in front of the computer.

“Hey,” he says as he’s working, “you know 3racha’s having a concert tonight?”

Of course you do.

“I heard about it.”

“You should come. I can get you in.”

You raise an eyebrow. You’ve never actually seen 3racha perform. Tickets to their stuff aren’t that easy to get on campus or around i, and you’re also busy working your ass off most of the time, whether it’s for classes or at your part-time job. But you have tonight off, and considering this assignment is going nicely…

You bite your lower lip as you consider it. You’re not really looking forward to the screaming crowd looking at Changbin like he’s a god, but you are interested in the actual show. You’ve heard so much about them, and the stars aligning for a ticket offer and not having to work…

Ah, fuck it.

“Okay.”

Changbin’s head whips back in your direction.

“What?”

You take a step back, shoulders instinctively coming up to your ears. Your defenses come back up in a matter of seconds.

“If you don’t want me there, you shouldn’t have—”

“No, you should come!” he protests, and then his voice gets softer. “I’d be super happy if you came, I just didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“Of course I am,” you say with a shrug.

Changbin turns around towards the computer, but not before you catch a bright smile on his lips. Not his signature smirk. A bright, genuine smile.

And this time, you have no excuse when your heart skips a beat.

It doesn’t come off as a shock to you that 3racha are really fucking good on stage. You didn’t have any trouble getting into the bar after giving your name, which Changbin had told you would be enough. It had taken a little more, uh, elbow work to get reasonably close to the stage, because the place was already pretty filled up. The people there are almost all from the college, but there are a few groups of mostly young men — some looking like they’re too young to have been let in — that stick out as well.

You make yourself comfortable as you wait, sending the occasional glare at people pushing you. Lots of girls there, you note, and you don’t think they’re all there for the music, which you find amusing. You certainly don’t judge. That’s something that the people from the labels would have noted, and it’s not like there’s a wrong way of enjoying a group.

The crowd goes wild around you when Jisung — or rather J-One, his stage name — jumps on stage, practically vibrating with energy. You don’t really catch what he’s saying, both because it’s too loud and because he’s speaking too fast. You are, however, acutely aware of the way he presents himself, of his cocky grin, of the way he sticks his tongue out and wipes at his lower lip with his thumb.

He’s followed on stage by Changbin, who, unlike him, barely looks like he’s acting. Yeah, his stage persona is raw confidence, supercharged with charisma, but he doesn’t bother doing much of anything — though you think he’s flexing his muscles a little more than usual. Except, of course, when he gives the audience that fucking smirk of his.

And suddenly, you’re very, very aware of how hot it is in the room.

Chan’s the last one to get on, and he does so with a roar of “Are you ready?”. Everyone goes insane, and you find yourself being pushed around by the people around you jumping up and down. Though you’re not quite giving in just yet, you do enjoy the enthusiasm. If half of what you’ve heard about them is true, they certainly deserve the hype. Seeing the wide, uncontainable smile on Chan’s face at the crowd reaction, as he can’t keep up with his stage persona for a few seconds, just makes your heart swell.

Then, after getting the crowd even more riled up, they get started with their set. You’re familiar with all the songs, of course. Music is ideally going to become your job and you want to keep yourself updated, but also, you do find them to be good. Even the stuff that’s not to your personal taste is always backed up by an actual creative idea, which is not something you’d say about a lot of pop songs that get blasted on the radio every day. It makes their music feel new, and yeah, sometimes it means it’s not that easily accessible and it’s going to turn some people off, but it sure makes you respect their artistic integrity.

They’re also giving themselves on stage, 100%. And, because there’s just no point in denying it now, Changbin looks ridiculously fucking hot doing it. It makes all sorts of things tingle in your stomach and lower when he growls in the mic. You haven't been able to look away for a second.

Outside of the general hotness — you’re human, what can you say — you can’t help but appreciate everything else, everything musical. How easily he rides the beat, how music seems to inhabit his body, how skillfully he’s crafted the verses and choruses and made them feel— You’re not sure how to phrase it. They’re not predictable, but they are obvious. It feels like there would be no other way of doing them, no better way of phrasing them, no arrangement that would be more efficient. It has to be that way.

And it’s as they’re reaching the peak of their last song that dread washes over you, seeping straight to your bones.

You find Changbin annoying. You think he’s cocky, overconfident, and that he doesn’t pay enough attention to others. You also don’t like the way he gets everything handed to him on a silver platter and that, unlike you, he doesn’t have to split his time between work and college. But if you’re being honest, that’s not nearly enough of a reason to dislike him. The guy wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s always happy to help out, maybe even lets people take advantage a little bit. And he’s so, so fucking talented. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find all of that attractive.

The problem, as you’re staring at him on stage, is that the question that is truly at the center of it all, the one you’ve refused to ask yourself all this time as you kept working your ass off and he kept doing better than you, just came up to the surface, and you can’t avoid it any longer.

What if you just don’t have it?

Look, you believe in hard work, but you find it hard to deny that some people just have something else. Call it talent, call it luck, whatever. Changbin’s got it.

You’re not sure you do.

You just might keep working and working and working and never get to the level he’s at. You might just not have the thing that makes him able to come up with hooks that stay inside your head for days on end.

What’s been your dream job for almost a decade now might remain forever out of reach.

As the crowd erupts in cheers around you, and 3racha stay on the stage, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down their forehead, the future you’ve always wished for doesn’t quite shatter completely in front of your eyes, but it takes a nasty crack that ripples onto its entire surface.

You turn around, away from the stage. You hadn’t planned on that, but fuck it.

You need a drink.

Even as you down two drinks a little too quick and gesture for a third, you know this is a bad idea. You’re running straight into a wall, you’re going to regret this so much tomorrow, and you’re doing it anyway. This isn’t like you. You make the good decision, the right decision, you do what’s smart, what you should do.

Except apparently, none of that is enough, and that thought gets you to ingest the third drink as well, the burning taste of alcohol a welcome distraction.

“You can really knock these back,” a voice comments next to you.

You glance at the guy who’s already way too close in your personal space for a stranger. Normally, you would roll your eyes and you’d never even consider entertaining it. Who even hits on someone after they’ve seen them try their best to get intoxicated in as short an amount of time as possible?

Tonight though, his maths has paid off, because you welcome the distraction.

If you’re going to be making bad decisions, why stop at one, right?

You spin yourself towards him, rest your elbow on the counter and put your head on your hand in a pretty unnatural pose. You’re not quite coordinated — not usually, and certainly not with that amount of alcohol in your blood — but it doesn’t appear to throw him off.

“Sure can,” you say — it might come off slurred, you can’t tell, “but the question is, can you?”

He raises an eyebrow, but he looks amused. Honestly, he’s giving sleazy vibes, a little too happy to be running into someone trying to get wasted, you just— you just don’t give a fuck right now. You feel like you’ve watched the life slip forever out of your reach, and you just want to forget about it, forget about how you may never get a job and never live from what you want to do most in the world, forget about fucking Seo Changbin and how ridiculously talented he is when you’re— Yeah, you’re ordering another drink.

The guy offers to pay for you, and you’re not going to say no. He makes a dumb comment about it which you think is supposed to be a joke and you laugh way too hard, throwing your head back in a tried and tested move.

As you make painful small talk with him while waiting for your drink, you’re struck by how mediocre he seems to be. When you’re around Changbin, as annoying as he can be, the conversation’s just… brilliant. He’s interesting, he’s actually smart, he has stuff to say, and talking to him makes you feel, well, annoyed, sure, but it’s also challenging. He never bores you.

It’s been less than a minute, and you already wish that guy would shut up.

He doesn’t. He seems intent on smothering you with facts about his life that he probably believes to be impressive — his money, his job, his connections —, like you don’t know why he’s doing it. It’s almost insulting that he seems to believe that he’s seducing you with all of that fairly mundane stuff, when really, the attention you’re giving him has nothing to do with, well, him.

He’s moved on to putting his arm around your shoulders in the least subtle way known to man when you hear your name and you turn back around.

There’s Changbin, eyeing you and the guy, looking half pissed, half concerned.

“Oh, hey,” you say. “You were really good.”

His eyebrows knit, but then a smile that he can’t seem to hold back lifts a corner of his lips. It’s not arrogant for once, almost bashful actually.

“You thought so?”

So good that it gave you an existential crisis, so, yeah, you did.

“Yeah, you guys weren’t bad,” the dude behind you chimes in, and since you’ve got your back turned to him, you openly roll your eyes, which Changbin can’t miss. You doubt the guy knows shit about the time and efforts that had to go into that set, or into the writing of the song before even getting onto the stage, for that matter. “A bit derivative,” he adds, like an asshole, “but you might go on to do great stuff.”

There’s nothing bashful about Changbin’s smile now. He doesn’t look hurt or anything, but he seems to be thinking that the guy’s a real fucking moron.

“Thanks,” he says, sarcasm dripping in his voice which the dude doesn’t catch. Then his eyes fall on the glasses in front of you, and back to the hand on your shoulder. “Is that all yours?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m questioning my existence,” you reply with a shrug. “So that seemed like a good idea.”

Changbin looks confused for a second, but not completely deterred by your lack of coherence.

“’kay, then I think I should take you home.”

That’s objectively a good idea, and the more time you’re spending looking at him and talking to him, the less you want to keep talking to the other dude, actually.

“Hey,” the guy in question says from behind you, “I got there first. Find someone else, dude.”

Changbin’s eyes harden instantly and he takes a threatening step forward. He’s shorter than the man, but significantly larger. You just so happen to not be drunk enough to watch them fight. You blame your dad’s genes for making you somewhat good at handling your alcohol, because you wish you were hammered enough not to care right now. You push yourself on your feet, a bit unsteady, and put your hand on Changbin’s arm — totally to stop him and not at all to stop yourself from face planting. His muscles, you discover with some interest, are not just impressive but also extremely hard, perhaps because he’s prepared to fight.

“It’s good,” you say, “thanks for the drinks but he’s right, I need to get home.”

The man’s face contorts with anger.

“You can pay for your own drinks, you fucking—”

One of Changbin’s arms wrap around your waist, and then he takes a step forward, easily getting you out of the way while keeping you against him, to grab the man by the collar.

“Want to finish that sentence, asshole?”

If you were sober, you’d think something judgmental about men and aggressiveness. Right now, you mostly, uh, think it’s very very hot of him. Being pressed into his hard body makes your heart rate spike up, and in that state, it’s so hard to deny how attracted you are to him.

The guy backs down quickly, sputtering an apology, and then Changbin’s dragging you away, keeping his arm around you to ensure you stay on your feet.

“You okay?” he asks. His eyes scan your body, focusing back on your face when he finds nothing.

Alcohol has a tendency of making you even snappier than you usually are. Right now, though, hearing the genuine worry in his voice, you feel that part of you melting away.

“I’m good, Changbin. I think I just— I just need to get home.”

And though he’d be the last person you’d take help from if you were sober, he seems like the perfect pick at the moment.

You make it to the campus without too much trouble. It’s not like your legs don’t carry you anymore, just that you don’t walk quite straight, but Changbin doesn’t let go of you for one second of that walk, monitoring you the whole time, and then he insists on getting you back to your room as well. At least you live alone, because that is not something you’d like to have to explain.

“Did something happen?” Changbin asks, finally, as you’re making it up the steps, like he just can’t keep it in anymore. Your mind, which had been peacefully quiet this whole time, filled with his warmth and his presence, is flooded with noise again. It takes you a few long, painful seconds before you come up with something to say.

“Do you think I’m any good at this?” you ask just as you’re reaching your floor.

He shoots you a weird look.

“Good at what?”

Right, he wasn’t privy to everything that was going on in your mind.

“You know,” you say with a vague gesture. “Music. Producing. What we do.”

“Of course you’re good at it,” he scoffs like it’s the most obvious thing ever. “You’re super creative. You can follow all the stupid rules the teachers give us and still turn something good in. You think I’d let you work on my stuff in my studio if I didn’t think you were good?”

It’s his tone that gets to you, you think. Changbin’s honest to a fault, from what you’ve seen, but he says this so matter-of-factly, so casually, that it’s hard to question, even for just a second, that he doesn’t believe what he’s saying. You know it will take a moment to sink in, that Changbin has that kind of confidence in you when even you don’t, but, even if the thoughts will definitely come back later, it’s like he dispelled them all in just a few sentences.

It’s as you’re coming to a stop in front of your door that he almost jumps with realization.

“Wait a second. Did that fucker say—”

And then you kiss him. It’s not that hard, from the position you were in, to pivot into wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips against his, which you find to be soft and plump. He tenses for a second before his hand tightens on your waist and he kisses you back hungrily. If he can taste the alcohol on your lips, it doesn’t seem to bother him. His hand holds you close to him with almost bruising strength, but it remains chastely on your waist, his only movements coming from his lips and tongue.

His teeth graze against your lower lip, pulling on it, and it sends shivers through your whole body, but this is when you pull away from him. Despite his previous stillness, his head moves forward, chasing your lips for just a few seconds longer.

When you open your eyes, you find him panting, cheeks and ears a pronounced shade of red. It’s— extremely cute, if you’re being honest.

“Thank you for taking me home,” you say.

“Y—Yeah,” he says, glancing away when his voice cracks. “Yeah,” he repeats, “any time.”

“I’m gonna go to bed now,” you say, though you still haven’t taken your arms from around him.

“That’s good,” he says with a decisive nod. “’cause, you know, you’re drunk, and I wouldn’t wanna— You should go to bed.”

It makes you giggle, but you still decide give yourself a second more, during which you put your head on your shoulder, and Changbin just lets you, his hand rubbing circles on your back. When you still don’t move, he clears his throat.

“D’you want me to carry you?”

“Seriously?”

His response to that is to lift you up princess-style, one arm under your knees and the other under your back. He lets out a grunt as he lifts you, but then stabilizes himself and manages to get you through the door.

You know that you’ll have some things to seriously think about when you wake up with a throbbing headache, but in that moment, you just laugh and let him carry you to your bed, because having his arms around make you feel safe.

He makes you feel like you’re going to be okay.

Taglist: @lethallyprotected @jisuperboard

#stray kids #changbin #seo changbin #changbin x reader #seo changbin x reader #stray kids imagine #skz #changbin imagine #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagine #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #changbin fanfic #candywrites

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