Engraved pt. 8
Short: You’re a tattoo artist for a gang known as EXO who own a club down town. (read synopsis at masterpost)
Warnings: swearing ( think), a lot of suggestive things, sentimental things? idk…not much. Pasta. HIGH WORDCOUNT OFG
Pairings: D.O. x Reader, slight Kai X Reader, slight Chen X Reader
A/N: Compared to the previous part this is HUGGGEEE, let me know what you think as usual!! feedback appreciated.
Read it HERE on AFF, or below on Tumblr.
The couch in the living room wasn’t really that comfortable, and he slept half half the whole night. To be honest he was also sort of worried about you. Most of the time he had pretended to not hear the slight waver in your voice, or the way you seemed to touch him more surely to more you drank. How every inch of care seemed to flow from you, and your posture changed too.
And then you had stumbled up the stairs with fear knitted between your tense shoulders. He wanted to put his hand right there, on your spine and take whatever it was away from you. Upstairs he had heard you stumble and he found you barely able to stand. Lightweight, seven shots, and you were a goner. The mischief in your eyes was gone by then, and replaced with a worrying frown.
When he left you had whispered something, and he had heard it. He wasn’t really sure whether he had been supposed to hear it. But he did. That you slipped up around him. That he should be glad about it. But what does that even mean?
The morning came too soon and he was up at the first crack of dawn, a little before 7 am. He groaned and stretched, the blanket soft against his skin as it dropped around his waist. The room was a pleasant cold, but he shivered still and reached for his shirt on the table. It was right next to the abandoned bottle of vodka and the shot glasses. Where was the dice?