#and that just kind of normalized for me sharing space and thoughts with men as an equal

[annalyticall]

To be honest I think I'm starting to become so apathetic to gender that I could possibly be non-binary but at the same time I am also just apathetic enough to not care about changing my pronouns or doing anything differently about how i present to people

[stellamarielu]

on the job

joel miller x female reader

summary: you and joel are forced to work together, but neither of you can get past the others stubborn attitude or contractor!joel and interior designer!reader fuck in a walk-in closet

content: nsfw, 18+ mdni, pre outbreak!joel, he’s kind of a huge asshole sorry, teasing, degradation, dirty talk, slightly dubcon, fingering, use of nicknames such as princess sweetheart and good girl, finger sucking, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, sex against a wall, kinda public sex bc it’s on a job site?? pull out game strong with this one

author’s note: based on this lovely request. i made joel a little mean bc it felt right but at the end of the day he will forever be babygirl. also, i know very little about both of these professions so i apologize for any inaccuracies in that department

You liked to think that you were easy to work with, always polite and mindful— pleasant even.

You mostly kept to yourself, especially when you were working on a project alongside others, however, not everyone shared your cooperative mindset.

In fact, you had worked with a multitude of assholes. Men who thought they held some kind of power over you, who flourished under the opportunity to demean and mock your job like theirs was more important, but none of them even held a candle to Joel Miller.

Your paths crossed when you were hired by a pretentious, middle-aged woman in Austin to help design the interior of her new home— a home that was still under construction.

To make yourself familiar with the layout, you visited the site multiple times in the weeks before construction was scheduled to finish.

It was always an easy and uneventful trip. You greeted the workers, took a few pictures, wrote down some dimensions and then you were gone in twenty minutes tops; but that all changed the day you met Joel. 

You waltzed into the house, waving to one of the men you had come to know from your previous visits and then you heard it, a deep berating voice targeted directly at you.

“Who the hell are you and why are you on my site without a fuckin’ hard hat?”

You stopped in your tracks as you were met with an unknown face. 

“Uh sorry. I’m working on an interior design project for the Johnson’s. They told me I was welcome to come check out the space if I needed anything.” You didn’t know why, but your voice was coming out in compliance, the tone hushed. 

The way this man approached you was incredibly entitled and unabashedly rude.

Normally you wouldn’t let some asshole like this get within two feet of you, let alone talk to you like that; but this guy had you questioning your morals for a split second. He was tall, and broad, and handsome. The southern drawl slipping from the smug curl of his lips and the flex of his biceps as his arms crossed over his chest, had your words stuttering.

“Well, until my job is finished, and the Johnson’s have the keys to their front door, I call the shots. And I don’t do well with unexpected visitors walkin’ around while my guys are trying to get work done.”

Your mouth nearly hung open at his words.

You’d barely said a word to him and he was coming at you with a disgustingly brash and assertive attitude. What the hell was his deal?

“Okay...” The word was drawn-out as it fell from your lips in annoyance.

“Well, it’s kind of funny, because this is probably the fifth time I’ve been here, and none of your guys seem to give a rats ass, so how about you let me do my job and I’ll let you do yours.” 

Finally, you had gotten past the stranger’s criminally good looks and stuck to your guns.

There was no way in hell you were going to let him reprimand you for doing your job. Afterall, you had every right to be here. 

“Yeah well, my guys will let you do whatever you want when you’re prancin’ around here in tight little dresses and high heels. You think they’re just bein’ nice for the hell of it?” 

His irritation was masked by amusement as he looked you up and down, dramatically raking his eyes over your body. 

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I’d really appreciate it if you could just drop the attitude and keep things professional.” The quality of your voice was stern, juxtaposing the way his eyes on your body had you suddenly feeling a rush of heat throughout your chest.

Anger.

The warmth was an angry fervor, definitely not one of lust or temptation. It was a burning irritation for the man standing in front of you, not a curious warmth for how his eyes clung to every curve of your body, taking his time drinking in any exposed skin.

His smile widened as he watched you falter under his stare. “I’ll drop my attitude when you drop yours sweetheart.”

“Listen, Mr-“

“Miller. Joel Miller.”

“Okay, Mr. Joel Miller. I have work to do, so I’m just going to walk past you, take a few notes and I’ll be out of your hair. Deal?” 

“Fine. But if I see you back here again you better be wearin’ a hard hat. Don’t need any trouble because you trip and hit your pretty little head.” He let his eyes wander down your body once more, his voice full of sarcasm.

“Yeah yeah, got it boss.” You scoffed as you pushed past his broad frame. You didn’t turn to look back, but you could practically feel his eyes burning into you as you swayed into the entry way, hoping it was the last time you’d ever have to speak to him.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

You ran into Joel a few more times, each meeting more infuriating and demeaning than the last. He always had a smart comment on his tongue or a mocking intention in his voice. 

Joel Miller had quickly become the bane of your existence; yet, for some reason there was a part of you, deep down, that always hoped to run into him when you went to scout out a new project for the house.   

Maybe because he was undeniably handsome, always walking around with a charming smirk on his lips and a devious glint in his big brown eyes. It was almost as if he were challenging you— seeing how far he could push you before you snapped. 

He continued to test your patience as you now stood in the giant walk-in closet off the primary bedroom.

You were trying to establish a color scheme sophisticated enough to fit Miss Johnson’s impossible to please pallet while Joel was making unnecessarily loud noises across the room.

He was far from graceful, the slamming and pounding of tools was all you could hear as he worked on one of the many intricate shoe shelves on the wall.

“I thought this side of the house was done.” You were speaking without looking in his direction, your eyes following the paint swatches on the wall. 

“Was.” Joel’s voice was gruff as he continued working.

“Until the queen decided she needed more storage for all her designer shit.” He was chuckling at his own words, side eyeing you from his spot kneeling on the floor. 

“You are genuinely the most unprofessional person I’ve ever met.” You dismissed his rude comment about the woman you were both employed by.

“That right?”

You refused to look at him, but you could hear the delight in his voice. 

“Absolutely.” Your response was curt, a quick and straight-forward delivery.

“Good.”

As if you couldn’t hate him more, the word leaving his lips had you turning your head sharply in his direction, an appalled expression plastered across your face. 

“God you get on my last nerve.”

“That right?” Again, his lips tugged into a smirk as he looked at you. 

You raised your brows in annoyance with a single nod of your head at his question.

“Good.” His voice was taunting as he watched you shake your head in frustration. 

You brought your eyes back to the wall in front of you, not giving Joel another second of your attention.

After a few seconds of silence his deep voice broke into the room. “You know, if you weren’t so uptight, maybe I’d ask you out for a drink sometime.” 

It took you a minute to register his words. Was he implying that he wanted to ask you on a date while insulting you at the same time? What a fucked-up, backhanded compliment; one that had your chest stirring with warmth.

“Well, I guess it’s too bad I’m such an high-strung bitch then.” Sarcasm dripped from your words as you kept your eyes trained ahead, your head spinning from Joel’s implicit interest. 

“I doubt you’d last one minute in the bar I’d take you to anyway.”

His comment had your head snapping back again. This time his eyes were already on you, waiting to see a reaction. 

“And why’s that?” Your voice cut through the room at his assumption. 

“Because it’s not exactly a five star establishment, and I think you’re just like all these pretentious fucks you work for.” He raised an eyebrow at you before turning back to the shelf in front of him, tending to a few finishing touches. 

“Always so put together, walking around here with your shoulders high.” He was nonchalant as he criticized you, hands busy taking measurements, not even paying an ounce of attention to the dirty look you were currently shooting at him from the other side of the room. 

“You think you’re better than everyone, but you’re just another pretty face with an overblown ego.”

There it was. The final blow that had your body tensing with anger.

You couldn’t believe that just a few seconds ago you were letting him flatter you, swooning under the smallest inkling of positivity he threw your way.

He was the worst kind of guy, the kind that built you up just to tear you down. The kind that wanted to make you feel worse about yourself so you would go running to him for a semblance of positive reinforcement.

Joel Miller liked the chase— thrived off being such a douchebag that women somehow ended up falling on their knees for him. But you, you weren’t going to be that woman. 

“Me? Talk about a massive-fucking-ego, take a look in the mirror Miller. You’re the one always making sure I know my place around here, acting like a fucking sociopath. It’s like you get off on being an asshole.”

He stopped what he was doing and looked directly at you, his expression unreadable, like your cruel words caused a switch in him to flip. 

“Maybe I do.”

“What?”

“Maybe I like gettin’ under your skin, watchin’ you get all flustered.” He spoke slowly, setting down his materials and standing to his feet.

“Think it’s kinda cute. You’re always tryin’ to act all big and bad, but I know I make you nervous. I can see it in the way you look at me.” He didn’t move, the smirk on his face causing your eyebrows to furrow in irritation. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, standing strong on your opinion that Joel was the world’s biggest asshole. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting his words get to you.

“You can stop wherever you’re going with this. I’m not here to play your little bullshit games, I’m here to do a job and get paid.”

“Who says you can’t have a little fun on the job?” His voice was laced with a deep seriousness as he set his tools down on one of the many shelves adorning the walls. You watched him over your shoulder but kept your back turned, your body still facing the wall.

“Turn around.” The command left his lips and you wanted to laugh at his attempt of authority but the sincerity in his voice stopped you in your tracks. 

“What? No-“

“C’mon sweetheart, I think we both know you like bein’ told what to do.” His voice cut you off, the signature smirk on his lips sending a buzz straight to your head.

You didn’t mean to, or maybe you did, but your body turned to face him, watching intently as he continued speaking. His broad frame emphatic as he stood across from you.

“I bet you like it, having someone boss you around. Makes you feel a little inferior.”

As the words left his lips he began walking toward you.

It was a casual stroll, not intense or threatening, yet you felt your pulse racing and your posture slumping at his advances.

“Oh please. You need a reality check Joel.” 

“Wanna give it to me princess?”

You kept the appearance of control as he continued moving forward, but internally you were fighting feelings of complete disarray.

You wanted to be offended— maybe even slap him across the face for his wildly inappropriate nickname and the implication of his words. But instead, you froze, his body now less than a foot away from yours and his words ringing in your ears. 

There was absolutely no denying the way his statement had your thighs clenching and your head spinning. Something in his delivery, smug and dirty with his eyes holding a perverted hunger and a promise of follow through, made you weak.

You kept your body from jolting when you felt the touch of his hand wrapping around your waist, finding purchase dangerously low on your back. 

“Bet you’ve never done anythin’ like this.” His voice was sturdy— rigid with power.

The weight of his hand was rough, his palm resting just above the curve of your ass. His touch was heavy yet temperate as he held you, softly pulling you’re your body further into his. 

“Lettin’ some guy you barely know put his hands all over you.”

You watched his eyes carefully, your lips parted but you couldn’t find any words to fill them. You weren’t sure if you wanted to tell him to stop or keep going. 

“Bet all the guys you hook up with are just as prim and proper as you. Can’t imagine that those dipshits graduating from UT with a business degree are fuckin’ you the right way.”

His other hand came to the small of your waist, the movement sending a faint gasp straight to your lips. Your reaction had Joel smirking, reinforcing his grip on your body.

“Probably don’t even know how to get you off.” 

“You’re disgusting.” Your voice was a whisper. The insult that you meant to hurl his way dissolved in a pitiful sigh at the way his fingertips were latching onto you.

“Am I? Bet you like that too.” This time he leaned in, causing his words to land directly in your ear, his breath warm on your neck.  

“Bet you want someone a little rough around the edges. Someone to fuck you real nice.” 

As he spoke, his fingers curled into your body. His grip on you constricting.

His frame pushed into yours, sending you shuffling backward until your back was met with the solid friction of the wall.

“Joel..” 

You were searching in your mind, trying to form an articulate sentence to explain why this was wrong; why you couldn’t be in this position with him.

But he had you trapped against the weight of his body— big and wide and rough.

Every single rational thought in your head dissipated, replaced by an instinctual need to have him fuck you against the wall of this ridiculously expensive closet.

He was right, you’d never done anything like this and the excitement of it— the risk, had your entire body burning with white-hot desire. 

“Tell me to stop and I will.” His hands were holding your hips, pressing you into the wall with his chest dangerously close to yours. 

“But I don’t think you want me to.” For a single second you could see an indication of honesty in his eyes as he looked you over, searching for any sign of distress on your face. And when he couldn’t find it, his stare narrowed and his hands held tighter, rotating your body in his grasp until your chest was pressed against the wall. 

“I think,” He leaned into you, your ass pushing against the bulge in his jeans as his hum landed on the skin right beneath your ear. 

“You want me to lift up this pretty little dress and fuck you nice and hard right here, against this wall.”

His hands found the hem of your dress, bringing it up just enough to bunch at your waist.

Your lower half was almost bare, the only clothing keeping your cunt from being fully exposed to him was the little black thong encasing the dripping mess that had now built up between your legs. It didn’t stop him from reaching between your bodies, pressing his thumb against your clothed entrance. 

“Fuck- you’re soaked princess.” The first word was a prolonged throaty groan, the rest of the sentence fumbling behind it. 

“How long you been thinkin’ bout this huh? Me touchin’ you, makin’ you beg for it.” He was having too much fun playing with you through your panties, his thumb threatening to dip into you even with the lace still covering your entrance.

He pushed against it, moving between your clothed folds and marveling at the wetness seeping through the material. 

“I’m not begging.” You managed to hiss out a response, turning your head to peer at him, your cheek nearly pressing against the wall. 

“Oh, so she’s always mouthy huh?” 

You watched the diabolical grin eat away at his face from the power trip of having you trapped under his weight.

You could talk-back all you wanted— be as bratty and uncooperative as possible, but it didn’t change the fact that he had you right where he wanted you. 

“Keep talkin’ baby, go on.” He innocently raised his brows at you, his voice taunting as the weight of his thumb danced between your legs.

“I Know you want this too. You act like you can’t stand me, but I see the way you look at me…” Your voice was quiet but strong as you held onto the last bit of composure you had left, using it to defy the man at your back.

You were trying your best not to lose your train of thought as you spoke. You wouldn’t give up the fight that easily, succumbing to his tempting words and lewd touches. You could tell Joel was used to getting his way and every muscle in your body ached to challenge him. 

“The way your eyes are glued to my ass every time I walk past you.” You glared over your shoulder as the words drifted off your lips in a gentle accusation. 

His dark chuckle filled the room as his eyes darted away from yours for a short second. Then his stare was back on you— more intense than before. The two of you watching each other, sitting in a pool of mutual revelation. 

You both knew it.

You knew since day one that there was a shared attraction, an unspoken sexual tension hidden behind rude words and unsavory exchanges.

What was happening now was just a detonation of built-up pressure that had been stewing for weeks; evident in the wetness at your core and the bulge in Joel’s jeans. 

“Anythin’ else you wanna say? Should probably get it all out before I have you all fucked-out on my cock.” His voice dropped to a low whisper as he hooked his thumb into your underwear, pulling the material to the side, not even bothering to take them off completely. 

A soft gasp slid from your lips at the cool air meeting your newly exposed center, the slick pooling at your entrance only adding to the airy sensation. 

“You’re so fucking arrogant.” 

The words barely left your lips when you felt his touch meet your core, his fingers spreading your arousal.

You had more to say to him, you wanted to tell him how annoying he was and how you had lost every ounce of decency by letting him talk to you this way, but the words were caught in your throat as he pushed two fingers into you. 

“Maybe I have good reason to be.” 

Your eyes were squeezed shut at the unexpected feeling of him filling you with his fingers, yet you could hear the smirk dripping in his voice.

“You ever think about that sweetheart?”

His words were impatient, the initial drive of his fingers into your entrance was rough, but now they slowly worked into you. His movements were careful— cautious even.

It was as if he wanted to take his time, watching your body and listening to the shaky breaths leave your lips.

His hand worked between your legs, searching for the exact technique that would send you spewing profanities and crumbling against the wall.  

He curled his fingertips at just the right spot, not too deep and not too forceful, just a gentle pulse that had an impulsive whimper pouring from your chest.

“Maybe I’m so arrogant because I know I’m good at what I do.” His words held a double meaning as he added a third finger to stroke your newfound sweet spot.

You almost yelped from the stretch, but you held it back as best you could, refusing to give him the gratification of your submission. 

The position he had you in; back arched and ass pushed out, made it almost embarrassingly easy for the addition of a third digit as he watched them to sink into you.

You couldn’t help but hum in approval as he stroked you repeatedly, rubbing against the inviting drawl of your walls. You tried not to lose yourself at his fingertips, knowing from the familiar coil of pleasure in your core that he could have you coming on his fingers at any given moment. 

“Thought you were gonna fuck me, huh?” Your voice was a string of moans as you tried your best to form a coherent sentence with his hand pushed between your bodies. 

As much as you didn’t want his movements to stop, you also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you finish when he’d barely even gotten his hands on you.

Knowing Joel, he would never let you live it down. He’d ride around on his metaphorical high horse and crown himself the king of female orgasms. So instead of letting him bring you to the precipice of release, you met him with a phrase of defiance. But your challenging words were really just a gateway to get what you wanted. You could put on a tough act, but at the end of the day Joel was right, you did want him to fuck you in way no one ever had— hungry and hard against the wall, right here in your client’s house.

In fact, the thought of it had taken over every fiber of your being. The anticipation of feeling him rail into you was clouding your judgement and coursing through your veins at an alarming speed. 

“Think you can take it?” His growl stuck in your ears as he pulled out of you. The lewd noises of his fingers plunging into the slick mess at your folds was quickly replaced by the sound of him fumbling with his belt buckle. 

“How d’you want it, huh baby? You the sentimental type? Want it nice and slow and deep? Or d’you just wanna be ruined? Want someone to be a little rough with ya?” He was asking, but you couldn’t help but note the rhetorical quality of his words as you heard the rustle of his jeans pushing down his thighs. 

“That’s sweet of you to give me choice, maybe you don’t like control as much as I thought- “

Your sarcastic remark was cut short at the abrupt stretch of Joel’s length slamming into you.

“Rough it is then.” His voice was a deep grunt echoing from behind you as he paused, giving you a split second to adjust before pulling back out and thrusting into you again. 

“Shit princess, didn’t think you’d be this fuckin’ tight.”

His voice swam with amusement and pleasure as he watched the way his dick fully disappeared into you with each thrust of his hips.

Hands pulled at your waist as you felt Joel drive deeper with every breathless groan floating off his lips. 

“Look at you, takin’ me like such a good girl.” The words weren’t sweet, instead they teased you, shooting out of his mouth with a mocking tenor. 

You couldn’t keep your body from reacting to his praise, albeit contemptuous, the words still held a deep truth about the situation unfolding against the wall of your shared employer’s closet. 

“Oh, you like that don’t ya? When I tell you what a good girl you are?” His voice was a broken growl of grunts and sighs as he fucked into you— vigorous and desperate.

His pace was unrelenting as he held onto your waist, pulling you back to meet him with every drive of his hips into yours. 

He let one of his hands travel up your body until he was reaching for your jaw, tilting your head up and back until your body was arched at a sinful angle.

“See, I knew you just needed a good fuck.” His groan was right in your ear now that he held your head close to his, the grip he had on your jaw was firm.

It was becoming impossible for you to keep quiet, the strength and depth of his thrusts were causing explicit moans to skate past yours lips.

The hand that Joel was using to hold your face was now maneuvering to your mouth in an effort to muffle the obscene sounds rolling off your tongue. Two of his fingers pushed at your lips, hooking into your mouth. 

“Knew that little attitude a’yours was all for show.”

You closed your lips around his digits as he railed into you, a guttural moan sliding up your throat and humming onto his fingers. 

“Fuck.” His fowl groan was a direct result of your soft mouth sucking around his fingers, mimicking the way you had his cock encased between your legs.

You invited his touch onto your tongue, swirling around his thick digits and sucking him in deeper, earning a prolonged sigh from Joel as he fucked into you even harder.

Each stroke of his cock had your body pressing further into the wall— his pace was mean and unyielding, like he had something to prove. 

With the hand not in your mouth, Joel reached around your body, his fingertips finding your clit and rubbing quick careless circles over the bundle of nerves.

Your body faltered under his touch, your knees slightly buckling, and if it weren’t for the weight of his body trapping you against the wall, you’d be a puddle on the floor. 

He slowed his pace slightly, taking his time to find that spot along your walls again. The one that he discovered just minutes ago when he was three fingers deep in your dripping cunt. 

Whines of approval vibrated against the pads of his fingertips still pressing down on your tongue. His hips began rocking into you at just the right angle— slow and deliberate, with the goal of feeling you coming undone on his cock. 

“That it baby? Right there?” Again, his words were a sadistic tease, but his voice gave way to pitiful throaty whines.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think with the way he was working you toward your release.

Everything felt so overwhelming, his unrelenting thrusts hitting you in the perfect place, his touch on your clit, rough and impatient and his fingers filling your mouth— all of it creating the perfect storm of inconceivable pleasure. 

A jolt of relief surged through your body as the pressure inside you snapped. You let yourself fall further into the wall as Joel’s name slipped from your mouth in a chant.

Hearing his name on your lips in such a distant and dazed voice, had Joel’s cock pulsing. Your walls were clenching from your climax, sucking him in deeper and he couldn’t handle the abundance of warmth enveloping him. 

Both of his hands came down to your hips, fingers digging into your skin as held tight.

His thrusts were merciless as he used you to reach his peak, chasing the familiar buildup of tension in his core as he drove into you at a startling pace. 

Then he pulled out abruptly. 

One hand on his cock, stroking just twice before spilling onto the skin of your lower back, the other pushing your dress further up your body to keep it from becoming a jizz painted mess. 

Silence filled the room.

Neither of you spoke as your hands pushed against the wall underneath your palms. You stayed pressed there, Joel’s body still behind you evident in the ragged breaths leaving his chest. 

Still no words were exchanged as you felt Joel take a step back, the warmth of his presence fading just slightly.

You dared to break your pleasure induced trance to look over your shoulder, only find him pulling his jeans back up his body and tightening his belt without even sparing you a glance.

You began to move until you were reminded of the thick warm mess resting on your back, keeping you from pulling your dress down.

Before you could do anything, Joel was back behind you, hooking his fingers into the waist band of your panties and tugging them down your legs. He stopped at your ankles to tap against your skin, prompting you to step out of them.

Once the lacy material was fully in his grasp, he brought them up to your lower back, using them to gather his spend. He cleaned his mess with the lacy material then pulled your dress back down to cover your lower half. A sticky residue was left on your backside as a plaguing reminder of what had just transpired between you. 

You turned to face him, watching as he crumpled up your ruined underwear and shoved it into his back pocket with a smirk on his face. 

“How about that drink? Could meet you tomorrow night, should be done here around five.” He was back across the room in an instant, gathering tools and not bothering to look in your direction.

His invitation was genuine, but his words lacked interest. 

“I’ll get these back to you then.” His hand came to rest on his back pocket, fingers tapping against the denim holding your used panties.

A self-righteous smile sat on his face as he shot you a look of pure deviance before his eyes were back on his hands as they worked to gather his materials. 

“Yeah, okay.” Your voice came out more flustered than you intended as you smoothed out your dress over your thighs.

Joel was heading for the closet door, tool bag clutched in his hand as he gave you one last gaze of victory.

“It’s a date.” The words were a grumble from his lips, the same ones that were busy parading a smug smile. 

Then he left you standing alone in the small room, your mind racing around itself and your legs still trembling.

A subtle grin rested on your face as you stared down at the floor, trying to find some sort of equilibrium before even attempting to move.

The giant walk-in closet still encasing a lingering heat of reckless choices as you prepared to go on with your day— business as usual.

my masterlist

[lieran03]

Raising Their Voice

Love and Deepspace Fanfic

The usual calm and soft men who never raise their voice suddenly did so in front of you, and that's only to protect you

Genre: fluff/slice of life Pairing: Zayne x fem!reader Words: 2.017 Warning: none!

Writing commission || Ko-fi || AO3 acc

Xavier's || Rafayel's || Sylus' || Caleb's

Based on THIS request

Everyone knows how calm and collected Zayne is, especially when he is at the hospital, working and going through the operation he needed to. He never raised his voice, not to the doctors who did something wrong, not to the nurses, and especially to his favorite patient slash person, the Hunter, who has been his childhood friend. Although there might be times he raised his voice in operation when a mess occurred, he never really got angry.

Even when his dearest always tries to bring that kind of emotion to him, wanting to know how he will react and how he will act around, he always knows it first, and that ended up with him being the one to tease her. In the end, the one who got angry was her instead of him. He likes to see the way she raised her voice, getting worked up by her own pranks, and getting irritated at him which makes her look cute.

“Your check-up is done, nothing is concerning enough, except that you must have been losing sleep lately.”

“Yeah, I guess because a certain someone wasn’t there to lull me to sleep.” Zayne knew she was talking about him. With countless surgeries and patients he needed to tend, going back home was hard.

“I admit that I’m at fault for that, but aside from that, you push yourself again.”

“Okay, Doctor Zayne is in working full mode now.”

It was another teasing remark given to him that made him shut his lips. More words are coming from him, and she will probably tease him to death. A sigh to show his defeat can be heard before he rubs his temple, feeling dizzy just by thinking and imagining how the conversation will go if he continues. The smiles on her face made him feel better, and he started to act serious again.

“Wait for me downstairs, I will end my shift in a while and we can have dinner together.”

“Is this how you pay me for missing all the nights?” Noticing that the teasing had started back, Zayne also decided to do the same.

“I just thought that the dessert shop I haven’t been able to go to now has a new menu. Sharing is always caring, right? I wanted to share the dessert with you.”

The conversation ended fast when Zayne got a call from Greyson. Knowing that there wasn’t anything else he needed to check, he bid his goodbye, adding that she told him he needed to check the patient fast. Once Zayne was nowhere to be seen, she went out of his check-up room. Although it was night, the hospital was still as busy as it could get, filling the hospital spaces.

Before she could get to the place where she usually waited for Zayne, another doctor whom she knew very well called out to her. A small smile appeared on her lips, greeting the doctor quite excitedly. After all, before knowing Zayne, the doctor in front of her was the one to take care of her and always check her up, giving her the opportunity to push her limits so she could enter the Hunter Association exam.

“Are you here for a general check-up with your current physician, or did you have an injury while doing a Hunter job?”

“I think it’s kind of like the two,” she answered with a light tone. Knowing her previous doctor, she also knows that joking with them is a normal thing. Responding to her words, a chuckle can be heard before a pat was given to her shoulder.

This time, with a serious look, the doctor said, “I hope that there’s nothing wrong with your body now. Your current physician was Dr. Zayne, right? You’re in good hands. I trust you with him, and you better listen to him too.”

A short conversation that starts with just mere greetings turns into a story time. The doctor kept making sure that he didn’t have any patients he needed to tend at the moment, and he only handled emergencies after getting older. At the same time, she also knows that Zayne wouldn’t be around just an hour after their departure, giving her a moment to have a conversation with her previous attending doctor.

“I guess we have to part here. I’m taking your time, right?”

“It’s okay, I was waiting for someone too.”

The smile she gives to the doctor eases his worries before he bids his goodbye, meeting a resident along the way and going into a serious mood. Seeing that she didn’t have anything else to do and didn’t want to make Zayne wait for her, she went straight to the place where she usually waited for Zayne. Part of her was scared to find the man already there.

What kind of response would Zayne give if she appears a bit late?

However, before she could have gone too far, a resident who was running pushed her. Normally, when others bumped into her, she wouldn’t find any problem, nor would she get affected by it. Yet, with the most unexpected times, added to the amount of force given, she couldn’t help but push down to the floor, feeling a bit lost, and look around her.

The resident’s things from his hand were thrown to the floor, an indication that the collision had just now. Even though questions still filled her mind, she started to gather the things, not wanting to get the resident into trouble. A little pain can also be felt around her shoulder, but she decided to turn a blind eye to it.

What’s important is the resident didn’t get into trouble because of her.

“Here’s your things. Next time, be careful.”

It should be just a normal reminder, especially to the resident who must be tired of working endlessly. Part of her also imagines about how the resident would get scolded for being reckless and even bumping into a patient. Trying to ease the fear inside them, she offered a kind smile, hoping it would tell the latter that she was not angry at the accident. She was okay with it.

When she thought a kind response was what she would get after that, the resident was evidently looking at her up and down as if wanting to make sure that she was not hurt. Once they confirmed something, they harshly took the things from her hand, visibly glaring and giving a low, dissatisfied sound to her, a sound that succeeded in making her back down a few steps back.

“If you’re not a patient, why are you wandering around here?! It would be bad if the person who bumped into you was any other doctor!”

“I was …?” There were no words coming from her lips, trying to understand what was currently happening to her. Did she get scolded when the resident was in the wrong?

“See? You’re not even aware that you just made a mistake! Imagine if the person you just bumped into was a real doctor, they would probably get mad at you and … ah! Whatever, you’re in the way. I was in a rush, and you just appeared so suddenly that it disturbed my work.”

“I’m … sorry?” The apology came too abruptly, that she didn’t even know the reason for her apology. Is it because she didn’t look around? Or is it because she accidentally bumped into them? Shouldn’t the resident be the one to look around to make sure they didn’t mess up? “But, I think you should have watched where you’re going, too.”

Couldn’t accept the fact that she was being blamed, words to show her dissatisfaction can be heard. At first, the resident was ready to walk away, not talking or making the issue bigger. However, the words spoken just now made them stop and look back, trying to see if what they had heard just now was real. They didn’t like how suddenly it became their fault. The glare was prominent, making her feel uncomfortable once again.

“Did you just say that I was the one making a fault here?”

The tone given shows hatred, making the situation more intense than it should have been. “I’m sorry?”

This time, not trying to cover her feelings, she purposely let out the tone she has been holding back, hoping it could portray just how angry she is right now. Whoever this resident is, they must have seen anyone except a patient as someone annoying. Something common to be seen in some of the residents who could get to Akso Hospital.

“Ah … is it because you’re a Hunter that you think you’re almighty and important? I guess it’s quite dumb and ….”

The words were never finished, and in addition, she felt as if someone was standing behind her. Before she could turn back to see who the person was, a hand finally rested on her back, as if to show intimacy. At the same time, the person who came leaning down, speaking to her in a gentle voice, and showing concern.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

It was Zayne.

For a few moments, the resident could only watch as the renowned Doctor Zayne was putting his full attention to the girl standing beside him, making sure she was not injured or had any bruises uncalled for. Once he was sure, and he listened to the girl's plea that she was okay, his gaze finally fell to the resident in front of him, showing no amusement.

“She’s a patient here. Just because someone didn’t wear a hospital gown doesn’t mean that they’re not a patient. Is this how you would treat those who aren’t your patient?”

“N-no … that’s not ….” Zayne’s voice wasn’t shouting, yet it was firm, showing his dominance. “I’m sorry, Doctor.”

“You should have said sorry to her, not me.” There was nothing that came after Zayne’s words, leaving the girl to look up and see Zayne had furrowed eyebrows, not liking how the resident still denied he was at fault. “Did you hear me or not? That you should have apologized to her and not me.”

With the raised voice coming from the-collected-and-calm-Doctor-Zayne, the resident finally stammered and said his apology, running away before Zayne could say anything else, and before the girl could say it was okay. Once the resident was nowhere to be seen, she finally stared at Zayne, facing her body to him.

“You raised your voice, I guess it was the first. And it was for me, should I be happy or concerned?”

“You shouldn’t have let others push you like that … and I didn’t mean literally.” Zayne put his hand onto the girl’s shoulder, feeling around to make sure that she didn’t dislocate it by accident.

“They’re in a hurry, I can understand that.”

“Yes. But still, it was their fault. Running into a patient, blaming the patient—or not. Even after that, they still didn’t say sorry because they realized they’re at fault.” The moment Zayne assured there was nothing concerning, he finally held the girl’s hand. “I was on my way down to meet you when I saw them bump into you, I thought it was nice of you to help them pick up their things. however, from afar, I can show how irritated they are … that’s when I decided to step in. I hope I didn’t interfere with you.”

“A low chuckle can be heard from her before she swings the hands held by Zayne, finds it amusing how Zayne easily tells the story. “No, no. I was glad. If you didn’t come, I might punch them in the face, and I might get a warning for doing so.”

“I could imagine,” was Zayne’s only response, holding her hand tighter when they reached the parking lot.

“And anyway, Zayne.” Before Zayne could open the car’s door, his attention was brought to the girl who was waiting. “Your voice does sound sexy when you raise it like that. I wonder how it would sound if you got angrier than that.”

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Birthright - Itachi & Sasuke

Kinktober Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, smut, incest, shower sex, bickering lol

A/n: Day 30: Incest! The month's almost done omfg!

Word count: 1.5k

Read on ao3

You loved your family.

And, certainly, your brothers loved you — perhaps too much. 

Itachi’s lips lingered for too long when he kissed your hand. Sasuke’s hand always ended on your thigh at dinner. Itachi’s compliments were flirtatious, heated. Sasuke claimed you were his by birthright. The other Uchiha men from the compound knew better than to pursue or proposition you, lest they incur the wrath of your siblings, the strongest the clan had to offer. 

It was too much — they were too much. But, you would be lying if you claimed you didn’t enjoy some part of their toy, being the rope in their perennial game of tug-o-war. 

You held your head under the showerhead, hoping the hot water would cleanse you of your sins, that the steam might peel the depravity clinging to your skin. You knew what you would do: you would go to Itachi and tell him you would marry him, bribe him, whatever. Just let this end. It was impossible to breathe under the weight of their constant attention …

Shhlack!

The shower curtain blew back. You gasped, spun, fixed your eyes on —

Itachi and Sasuke stood before you, fully nude, smirks curling their lips. 

You crossed your arms over your breasts, too shocked to figure the motion as futile. “What — What are you doing here?” 

“We were thinking …” Sasuke was shameless, eyes lowered to scan your nude body.

“What kind of sibling would I be if we didn’t help you wash off?” Itachi finished for him. His smile was innocent, sweet, handsome, as though this were the most normal thing in the world. 

“If you’d let us,” Sasuke said. Shrugging, he added, “You can always say no.”

You ignored the drool pooling your mouth. They were pure shinobi, refined muscles, blessed with the handsome features of the Uchiha men. Seconds ticked on. Your heart drummed with them. Could you go along with this?

Itachi’s shoulders relaxed. Disappointment. “If you’d rather not —”

“Yes.”

Their eyes brightened. 

“Gods, yes.” You sighed. “If it will satiate you two, make you less aggressive, t— then yes, yes!”

“Save the begging,” Sasuke said. “You might need it soon.”

Itachi chuckled at his brother’s quip, but gave you no time to protest or question your decision further as he stepped into the empty space across from you. He silenced your surprise with a kiss. Your hands grazed his arms as they looped around to embrace you. Sasuke was next, stepping in after his brother. You cracked an eye open; Sasuke eyed you hungrily, blacker-than-black eyes curtained by hair catching the shower rain and dousing his toned body —

“Mm!” Your foot popped as Itachi surprised you with the sly invasion of his tongue. 

“Hm.” He smiled into the kiss. His hold on you tightened, a hand wandering to grope your ass, your thigh, compelling you to wrap a leg around his.

“You’re hogging her, Itachi,” Sasuke chastised.

“Correction: I’m getting her ready for you.”

You gasped; Itachi’s hand cupped your vulva lovingly before sending two fingers to tease along the length of your slit.

“Something tells me that’s not just shower water,” Itachi teased.

“Mmm …” You moaned, closed your eyes against the delightful sin of Itachi’s fingers curling inside you. 

“She probably would’ve satisfied herself if we hadn’t come, Sasuke.” Itachi walked his fingers back and forth, chuckling when you arched into him, lips parting. “We’ve only been here for a few minutes and yet …”

You parsed the movement taking place as Itachi pleased you; Itachi moved aside to admit Sasuke, and he recaptured your lips. Both of them fondle your breasts, one for one of their hands. You let your head fall back into the shower wall, and you open your eyes to see Sasuke knocking Itachi’s hand away and claiming your pussy for himself.

“I thought I taught you to share,” Itachi said. 

Sasuke broke away to glare at his brother, the tip of another quip on his lips — before you curled a hand around his hard cock and pumped him with intent.

“A — Ahh …” Sasuke leaned forward, brows drawn together. “(Y/n) …”

“Enough, you two,” You said. “Seriously, remember what I said.”

“She’s right,” Itachi said, gave Sasuke a look.

You rolled your eyes. There had to be some way to shut them up. An idea struck you. You gripped Sasuke’s hips, situated him against the shower wall, while situating yourself in the center, between either brother. Sasuke eyed you with skepticism but said nothing. Itachi pressed into you, his long cock piercing your thigh. You stopped him from coming any closer before settling on your knees.

“Ahh.” Itachi seemed to catch your drift. “At least I taught someone to share.”

“Will you let that go — oh …!”

Your lips sucking on the tip of his cock silenced Sasuke. You pumped Itachi slowly, each sensual stroke easing the tension hidden beneath his composed veneer. You opened your mouth wider to admit Sasuke’s cock, bobbing your head to take more of him as your tongue slipped to massage his underside. Itachi sighed as you massaged his balls, grazing the tip of your nails as you trailed your hand to his tip to restart the whole process. 

“You’re very good,” Sasuke breathed out. You flicked your eyes up to him. He followed the ministrations of your hands with an intensity that went straight to your cunt. “This is why you’re ours.”

You popped Sasuke from your mouth, took him in your mouth — halfway, before releasing him again. Again. Again. Sasuke groaned, the sound arising from the pit of his stomach. You couldn’t bear the throb between your legs; you slipped a hand to relieve your clit, massaging the nub as you popped Sasuke from your mouth on last time before alternating to Itachi — 

“No,” he murmured as your tongue swept over his cockhead. “No, I’m — too close …” Itachi’s heavy-lidded eyes transferred another cryptic message to Sasuke — before saying it outright: “Take care of her, Sasuke.”

Sasuke helped you to your feet. His harsh kiss sent stars behind your eyes. You startled; the shower wall was cold compared to your heated, drenched skin. 

“Be careful with her,” Itachi said, smiling faintly. “She is our sister, after all.” 

Sasuke’s movements were so fast, so purposeful. A blur; he pressed you to the wall, a hand propped your leg over his waist, his cock catching into your entrance, his cock sliding in — 

“Oh — ah …!” You clung to Sasuke’s back. He took no mercy on you — supposedly because he could feel how sobbing wet you were from the inside — and thrust into you. One, two, three, each thrust harsh, but when you only bit into your lip and gifted him a moan for each he kept with preferred pace. “Sasuke, oh, oh …!”

“She’s so tight —” Sasuke’s breath caught as he fucked into you. 

“I can imagine,” Itachi said. You turned your head as Sasuke attacked your neck with kisses and love bites to see him watching, flushed and stroking his cock. “I — have — imagined …”

A few more thrusts and it was apparent none of you would last much longer. You leaped into Sasuke’s arms, legs wrapped fully around him. You threaded a hand in his hair, another clutching his shoulder, and pulled at his scalp. Sasuke hissed at the delicious pain of it and fucked you harder, his hand lowering to flick at your clit. You sighed, resting your forehead against his. 

A blink and Itachi was at your side. Sasuke’s head dipped into your neck so Itachi might capture your lips again. Both of their hands fought for possession of your clit now, fingers knocking and weaving. You stroked Itachi’s cock, feeling him twitch into your hand. He fucked into it, peppering your jaw and eventually the back of your ear with kisses. 

“Yes, mm!” You bounced with the power of Sasuke’s thrusts. “Fu — Sasuke — please!”

“She’s asking nicely, Sasuke.” Itachi fondled your tit, pinched the nipple. “Cum for us, (Y/n). Do what big brother tells you.”

The prickle of the shower water, your two gorgeous brothers kissing, licking, touching and fucking you all became too much. You threw your head back as you came on Sasuke’s cock. An extraneous warmth hit your stomach and you knew Itachi had come to his end by watching yours. Sasuke pulled out of you at the last moment and jerked his spent onto your thigh. The evidence washed away in the shower as the three of you caught your breaths.

Itachi was there, coaxing you out of your reverie with gentle caresses. “You are incredible.”

You smiled, embraced Sasuke. His head rested against your cleavage before the vulnerability must have chafed against him. He pulled away.

You stopped the shower, rainfall coming to an abrupt end. You raised eyebrows at them. 

“We good?”

“Perhaps,” Sasuke said. “You're still ours, anyway.”

“I agree,” Itachi said. “If anything, this has made us want you more now than ever.”

You sighed. You caressed either brother’s wrist, smiling to yourself. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[rayclubs]

HxH Genei Ryodan is such a masterclass in humanizing villains, honestly to a ridiculous degree. They're legitimately terrifying, their crimes are cruel and inexcusable, the violent acts they commit are nearly always played seriously and condemned by the narrative, and yet I find myself rooting for them in every scene they're in.

It's not even the sad backstories some of them have, it's much deeper than that. I think I'm just fascinated with the intricate and peculiar friendship they all share. It's easier to get attached to comedy rather than drama, as a rule of thumb, and they're just endlessly funny.

I've been searching for examples of the interactions that stuck with me and was going to include screenshots but there are just way too many things. Like, okay, in no particular order:

Shizuku wearing Phinks' coat after her sweater gets torn in a fight.

Phinks tucking Kalluto under his arm like a chicken and carrying him out of an exploding building.

Nobunaga getting trapped in a pocket dimension and everybody agreeing that he should just stay there awhile because they've just taken a hostage and now there isn't enough space in the car.

Machi and Nobunaga hanging out like normal people, drinking beer and serving cunt effortlessly in stylistically matching outfits.

Kuroro getting a prediction that "the spider will lose half of its legs" and immediately going "nope not losing any of my men out there let's pack it"

Hisoka actually fucking saying "I can't tell you that. If I told you that, I would be telling you what I can't tell you. This is why I can't tell you that. That's all I can tell you." and they believed him. Maybe it's more normal with English subs, I dunno.

Everyone playing cards while Uvogin is fighting, all while talking about how good Uvogin is at fighting.

Uvogin giving Shalnark a little kissie. I don't even ship them, I think he just kisses all of his homies like a real man.

Franklin getting sent after a crate of beer. Like, that's just so funny to me. Errand boy.

Feitan and Shalnark calling Phinks "very feminine" and giggling.

Franklin and Nobunaga just fucking going at it, sword on gun violence, for no reason whatsoever. It seemed like they were having fun.

Nobunaga asking rhetorically how strong he is compared to the rest of the gang and them replying "7th or 8th idk" you fucking know they debated this.

Uvogin getting his dumb sexy ass captured and everyone showing up for him awww

Everyone being supportive of Shizuku being fucking stupid. Not even in a sweet way or anything, just kind of acknowledging that she has zero thoughts in her brain. "Shizuku why didn't you use your left hand" because she was spinning a vacuum cleaner in her mind, what's not clicking

Dunno what they call Kurapika in the English version but in the Russian subs they all collectively only ever refer to him as "ублюдок с цепями" or "the asshole with the chains".

Nobunaga immediately inviting two twelve-year-olds to join because he thinks they're hilarious, and everyone going "yeah okay as long as the boss is cool with it". You go Nobunaga, everybody grieves differently

The kids refuse and escape, go spying on the other members again, get caught again, and when Nobunaga sees them he's all "Wanna be friends now? ^^" <- nobody has anything against this

Feitan having his arm broken in a fight and Phinks going "HA!"

Literally every single time they toss a coin, but especially when Phinks and Bonolenov were arguing over who should fight Zazan if Feitan fucking dies???

Shalnark being a fucking gamer and inviting everyone else to speedrun Greed Island with him. Franklin going "no thanks" next shot he's in the goddamn game

Tossing the phone around. Can't remember whose phone it originally was but passing it around was hilarious every time. "We already killed the hostages" beep beep beep "Sorry I lied"

There are so many moments and I'm not even halfway done. Supreme quality villains. I need more of them. I need to inject them directly into my brain.

[yamujiburo]

I'm so thankful for you sharing the importance of protecting minors from sexual content. My parents and I didn't have much knowledge back then and I was exposed to this kind of stuff too early. I developed bad habits. I somehow deceived my family into trusting me way too much and, when I saw I had lost control and I asked for help, I saw my family was also hurt and they spent a lot on therapy and my anxiety medication. I have forgiven them for not knowing back them. But I still haven't forgiven myself for getting them through all that stuff. It's important to understand how much we need to protect minors from sexual content. Family members and artists, please pay attention to the content young audience is exposed to.

Of course! I can relate a lot to this. My parents were really good at monitoring what I was doing online for a while but they started trusting me more and I unfortunately started seeing a lot of stuff I shouldn't have but would keep it secret. Gonna talk about my experience a lil bit under the cut just bc I've been reflecting on it a lot recently (tw for grooming)

I gained a following of around 25K on deviantart by the time I was around 15/16. It was in the worst fandom too (mlp). I'd have a lot of much older men talking to me, drawing/writing nsfw of my characters who were underaged (they'd draw nsfw of myself and my sonas as well). It was so normalized for me and I didn't see anything wrong with it at the time.

I'd shipped Spike and Rarity at the time (very much do not anymore) and adult men would use that ship as a basis for trying to talk to me or get in a relationship. "We're just like Sparity! You're young but you're very mature for your age, so it's fine." I remember one guy trying REALLY hard to try and get me to move in with him. I was pretty creeped out then, but like holy shit that's SUPER creepy and I'm fortunate that he didn't keep trying after I gave him a hard "no".

It bled into my real life a bit when I met a 22 y/o man who asked me out when I was just 16 just turning 17. Luckily the relationship was NOT long lasting (I think he realized that I'm a very boring person LMAO) but I think about how I thought that that was a perfectly normal. I'd date go on to date people who were probably too old for me.

Also around when I was 16/17, people started shipping me with another artist in the fandom who was several years older than I was (side note: nothing wrong with an age gap! but it's very not okay when there's "waiting" for someone to be of legal age involved). I did end up dating said artist after I turned 18 and it was fine, I wasn't hurt or anything but I did find weird that we were shipped when I was still a teenager looking back (there was also nsfw drawn of us together before/when we were dating)

I just had such a warped sense of reality for a long because of this shit. I'm glad there's more conversations about this stuff and it's more known that adults should have little to no personal interaction with kids on the internet and vice versa. There's way too many stories of kids getting taken advantage of in fandom spaces. I think I got off fairly lucky all things considered. But bottom line YES kids need to be protected online and their exposure to sexual content/adult spaces should be limited or monitored. It's also really tough though because not all kids have adults in their real life that they can trust or go to to ask questions about sex so they seek solace in adults online and it's just a constant cycle.

I'm honestly unsure of what to do about that and I don't have all the answers but I ultimately just don't want kids online to end up in similar positions I was in when I was younger. I just do my best

[zombie-eats-world]

So I’ve been thinking about the widespread belief that Luffy wouldn’t give a single fuck about a reveal of his mother. (And I’m a crocodad fanatic so I’ll be treating that like it’s canon but this all should apply to any reveal, Crocodile or not)

This isn’t me trying to hard argue against Luffy not caring about his mother, it’s a huge possibility but I just feel like people say it with a lot of unearned confidence. The belief seems to come from how Luffy reacted to the reveal of Dragon being his dad. And Luffy not caring about a father makes a lot of sense when you consider his experiences. I mean just look at the male role models in his life!

Garp comes and goes as he pleases, just showing up to knock him in the head, share a meal, and then disappears. Shanks was much the same until he left for literally the last time Luffy would ever see him to date. His male figures leave him to follow their own passions, even Ace did the second he came of age. And Luffy isn’t upset by this, he accepts this as a normal part of life. Men go off and find their adventure, that’s just what men do.

(Btw Im not trying to make this a claim that Luffy doesn’t think girls shouldn’t go off on their adventures, just that this is Luffy’s experience with his male role models and how he’d justify it)

So this is why I think it makes sense that Luffy was so uncaring about his father being revealed to him. Dragon did what Luffy would expect a father figure to do, he showed up for a minute to help, and then left unceremoniously. Luffy doesn’t need to give anymore thought to it or to Dragon.

But, this is where I begin to question the assumptions that Luffy also wouldn’t care about his mother.

Luffy has a very different relationship with the female role models in his life.

Makino was a constant in his young life, providing a safe space for him to hang around. Makino from the little we see of her was incredibly caring and maternal to a young Luffy. Even after Luffy got moved to the mountains, she’d make the effort to visit and bring him new clothes. Her kindness and motherly care extended to Luffy’s new brothers too!

Then there is Dadan who, while not proactively or overtly caring, shows how much she cares for her boys by actively protecting them when a real threat appears and always making sure to check in on them. Her contribution to raising Luffy can’t be understated.

And probably the biggest influence on Luffy, Ace himself. The man who loves and deified his mother. I have zero doubts that Ace talked about his mother to Luffy at least once. I don’t think I’m crazy for believing this could have had an influence on Luffy.

This has been my long winded way of saying I think Luffy might care about a reveal of his mother. I think he’d be curious about why his mother didn’t stick around, where they’d been, and what adventure had kept them away.

Anyway, I’d love to hear any thoughts anyone else has on this subject.

[moncherriecoups]

Muted Hearts

Some love stories are whispered, not spoken. Some promises are signed, not said.

This is ours.

Love I said real love, it's like feeling no fear When you're standing in the face of danger 'Cause you just want it so much A touch From your real love It's like heaven taking the place of something evil And lettin' it burn off from the rush

──────────────────────────────

Seungcheol x f!oc | Minghao x f!oc (?)

Tags: tense relationship, idolxoc, slowburn relationship, angst

Word count: 3.6k

──────────────────────────────

Chapter Ten

Seungcheol stared blankly out the car window, watching the city blur past as Minghao drove in stiff silence. The tension in the air was almost comical—two grown men forced into a situation neither of them had asked for, yet here they were.

He wasn’t sure what was worse: the awkward silence in the car or the fact that Jun had stood outside the company building, grinning and waving like a proud mom sending her kids off to school.

"Just try not to kill each other," Jun had said, voice filled with the kind of fake optimism only an instigator could have.

Easier said than done.

Fifteen excruciating minutes passed before Seungcheol finally cracked.

"So, do you always drive like this, or are you just actively trying to kill me?"

Minghao didn’t even glance at him. "I drive normally."

"You nearly ran a red light—"

"It was yellow."

"IT WAS NOT—"

Minghao sighed. "Try shutting up and just breathing. You might live longer."

Seungcheol glares at him, "Maybe if you turned on some music, I wouldn’t be forced to listen to my own heartbeat—"

Without a word, Minghao reached over and hit a button.

—SHUT UP, JUST SHUT UP, SHUT UP—

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Seungcheol gawked as Minghao smirked and let Black Eyed Peas drown him out.

By the time they arrived at the first gallery, Seungcheol was already questioning all of his life choices.

Jun had way too much faith in them.

—

The tension still clung to them before they stepped out of the car to the gallery.

Minghao hated going to galleries with other people. He preferred to experience art alone, in complete silence, or occasionally with his cousin. But this? A PR stunt? With Seungcheol of all people? In one of his sacred spaces? He wanted to scream.

Seungcheol, meanwhile, was trying to suppress his own irritation. He didn’t get art. Never had. Never would. Why would someone spend millions on paintings when they could buy actual, useful things? Investments? Watches? A damn house? Rich people were weird. Minghao was weird. Zen my ass, he thought as he watched Minghao stroll through the gallery with an unreadable expression.

They stole occasional glances at each other, neither speaking. The only sound was the low hum of classical music playing in the background.

Finally, Minghao broke the silence. "You’re good at acting for the camera. Use that. Convince them."

Seungcheol groaned. "That was my plan all along."

And just like that, the moment they stepped in front of other people, their smiles switched on. The tension melted into easy laughter. They looked like the best of friends, sharing inside jokes, admiring the art like true enthusiasts.

Superstars, indeed.

They wandered from piece to piece, until Minghao stopped in front of a massive canvas, layered with chaotic red and black strokes, accented by scribbled blue handwriting.

"This one—ah, I remember this piece. The artist painted it while mourning the loss of someone close," Minghao explained, his tone reverent.

Before he could finish, Seungcheol cut in.

"Loss? I thought his cat knocked over his paint cans, and he just rolled with it."

Minghao turned to him, deadpan. "Hyung."

Seungcheol shrugged. "What? Isn’t art about interpretation?"

Minghao inhaled sharply. "Whatever." He walked ahead, desperate for an ounce of peace.

They stopped at a porcelain installation—tall, delicate stacks of circular shapes forming a slim tower.

"The artist developed a unique red glaze for this piece. It required a special kiln, and each part was handcrafted," Minghao said, his voice filled with reverence.

Seungcheol squinted. "Why are the donuts stacked on a stick?"

Minghao’s brain short-circuited. "The what?"

Seungcheol nodded toward the sculpture. "The donuts. Why are they stacked like that?"

Minghao stared at him for a long time.

Before Seungcheol could respond, a group of people entered the gallery, whispering excitedly as they stole glances at them.

"They’re recognizing us," Seungcheol muttered.

Minghao gave him a dry look. "That was the plan."

Seungcheol resisted the urge to groan. "I feel like a zoo animal."

"You’re literally an idol, for Christ’s sake."

They moved on to the next piece—a metal sculpture, twisted and warped into chaotic loops.

Seungcheol leaned in, examining it with exaggerated curiosity. "Oh, okay, let me try this one."

Minghao sighed. "Go ahead."

"A fork… dropped into a garbage disposal?"

Minghao pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don’t even know why Sua wants you."

"HEY!" Seungcheol sputtered. "I’m smart! Just… not for this."

"...Twelve years," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "I have put up with you for twelve years."

Seungcheol grinned. "And yet, here we are."

Minghao took a slow, deep breath. "I should’ve let Jun come instead."

"You say that, but we both know you’d rather suffer with me than listen to Jun ramble about conspiracy theories."

Minghao pressed his lips together like he didn’t want to admit that was true.

—

By noon, their first gallery visit had already gone viral.

Sitting in Minghao’s car, they scrolled through the flood of online reactions.

"SEE??? I TOLD YOU MINGHAO INFLUENCED HIM!" "Whoever blamed the girls from yesterday’s gallery needs to be jailed." "They were just doing their jobs! Some of y’all are embarrassing."

And, of course, the skeptics:

"This is just a PR stunt. Y’all are dumb if you believe it." "Do you really think Seungcheol is into art? Be serious."

Seungcheol scoffed. "They’re talking like I’m incapable of appreciation."

Minghao side-eyed him. "You called a sculpture a fork in a garbage disposal."

"...Fair point."

Minghao scrolled further, studying the negative comments. "We need something stronger. More convincing." He glanced at Seungcheol. "Let’s go to Sua’s gallery."

Seungcheol’s heart skipped a beat. "...Why?"

"If we interact with her the same way we did with the other galleries, people will see her as just another gallerist doing her job," Minghao reasoned.

It made sense. It was also incredibly awkward.

But Seungcheol nodded. "Fine."

—

The drive to Sua’s gallery felt different.

Seungcheol was trying not to fidget, but his nerves were getting the best of him. He hadn’t been back since that incident. Fans still loitered outside, and the guilt still weighed on him.

And then there was her.

When they stepped inside, Sua turned to greet them, and Seungcheol nearly forgot how to breathe. She looked effortlessly composed—an emerald blouse tucked into a sleek black skirt, her hair pinned up neatly. Professional. Beautiful. Dangerous to his self-control.

She froze for half a second when she saw him, her expression unreadable. But then she smiled. "Minghao," she greeted warmly, hugging him.

Seungcheol expected a handshake. He got a hug instead. A longer hug.

Minghao fake-coughed.

"We need to talk in private," Minghao said.

Moments later, in Sua’s office, they explained the plan.

Silence.

Then Sua burst out laughing.

Seungcheol frowned. "What’s so funny?"

Minghao sighed, rubbing his temples. "See? Told you this was dumb."

"No, no, I love this," Sua wheezed. "Jun is a genius!"

Seungcheol groaned as Sua wiped tears from her eyes.

And Sua? She laughed even harder.

—

"This way, gentlemen," Sua announced, her voice silky and professional, as she stepped out of her office. Her posture was perfect, her expression composed, the very definition of a competent gallerist.

Of course, she was going to play her part flawlessly.

Minghao, ever the art enthusiast, adjusted his cardigan and followed her with the quiet confidence of someone who actually belonged in a gallery. Seungcheol, on the other hand, was taking careful, measured steps—like someone walking into a classroom unprepared for a pop quiz.

He had been here before, of course. But the last time, he had practically sneaked in like some guilty teenager trying to avoid being caught in his girlfriend’s house. Now? Now, he was walking beside her in public view, and that was an entirely different kind of nerve-wracking.

Still, he was an actor at heart. So, he exhaled, straightened his shoulders, and slipped into character: charming, effortlessly cool, and completely unbothered.

The perfect public persona.

The moment they emerged into the main gallery space, whispers started.

Guests, art collectors, and a handful of curious fans who had wandered in by chance—all of them were sneaking glances at the two men flanking Sua. The sight of one superstar in an art gallery was interesting enough, but two?

The internet was about to have a meltdown.

Sua didn’t acknowledge the whispers. She was too good at her job for that. Instead, she led them toward a featured collection, walking with a kind of elegance that made Seungcheol realize—oh, she really belongs here.

She guided them past a few sculptures and into one of the more intimate exhibition spaces. The lighting dimmed slightly, spotlighting each piece with careful precision. The air felt heavier here, as if people instinctively knew to lower their voices.

The first piece they stopped at was a sleek, modern sculpture—something abstract, all curves and angles, titled "Transcendence."

Sua gestured toward it like a game show host. “This piece represents the journey of self-discovery and—”

“Looks like a pretzel.”

Sua blinked. “Excuse me?”

Seungcheol squinted. “A very expensive pretzel.”

Minghao sighed so hard it could’ve shut down a typhoon.

Sua placed a hand over her heart. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Seungcheol shrugged. “I call it like I see it.”

Minghao smacked his arm. “Shut up before someone hears you.”

Sua cleared her throat, struggling to keep a straight face. “Moving on.”

—

The second piece was a mixed-media installation—a canvas with chaotic splashes of paint and delicate, hand-sewn embroidery woven through it.

Sua turned to them. “So, what do we think?”

Seungcheol studied it for a moment. “It’s giving... stress.”

Sua covered her mouth, failing to hide her laughter.

Minghao nudged him. “It’s about the balance of chaos and precision, idiot.”

Seungcheol pointed at a particularly violent splatter of red. “That’s my stress.” Then he pointed at the careful embroidery. “That’s the patience I don’t have.”

Sua lost it.

—

The third piece was a large, oil-painted portrait—a haunting, eerie rendition of a man standing in front of a slightly open blue door. What Lies Beyond is written underneath it along with the name of the artist.

Sua lit up. "Ooooh, this is one of my favorites!"

Minghao hummed. "It’s a modern take on the Bluebeard legend."

Seungcheol frowned. "Didn’t that dude kill all his wives?"

Sua smirked. "That’s the one."

Seungcheol stared at her, unimpressed. "And this is your favorite?"

Sua shrugged. "What can I say? I love a good story."

Seungcheol turned back to the painting, narrowing his eyes. "Feels like a very passive-aggressive message."

Minghao snorted. "You’d be the idiot that opens the door."

Seungcheol scoffed, turning to him. "Excuse me?"

Minghao pointed at the painting. "The whole lesson is don’t open the damn door."

"And you think I’d be dumb enough to do it?"

Minghao didn’t hesitate. "Yes."

Sua burst into actual giggles. Actual giggles.

Seungcheol scowled. "I hate this tour."

Sua immediately turned away again, her entire body trembling with silent laughter.

Minghao, meanwhile, dragged his hands down his face.

—

By the time they reached the last exhibit, Seungcheol was practically glowing with amusement, while Minghao looked like he had aged five years.

The whispers in the gallery had grown louder.

People were fascinated by this trio—the elegant gallerist, the refined artist, and the absolute menace of an idol who had clearly never been to an art gallery for anything other than his girl.

But perhaps, that was the beauty of it.

Because, despite everything, they did look comfortable together.

And maybe, just maybe… this PR stunt was actually working.

—

The next day, Sua’s gallery wasn’t just busy—it was suffocating.

The space, usually a haven of quiet appreciation, had transformed into something else entirely. People swarmed in like a rising tide, their eyes flitting around the gallery, pretending to admire the art when, in reality, they were scanning. Searching.

They weren’t here for the exhibition.

The news of Seungcheol and Minghao’s visit had spread like wildfire, dragging Sua’s name into the spotlight. For most, it was easy to believe she was just another gallery employee—someone who had been polite, well-spoken, and lucky enough to guide two famous men through the exhibition.

But not everyone bought the act.

Sua had expected this. She had prepared for it. She knew the attention would come.

What she hadn’t prepared for—what no amount of mental rehearsal could have steeled her against—was them.

At first, it was just a feeling.

A subtle prickle at the back of her neck.

She brushed it off, refusing to let paranoia sink in. It wasn’t unusual for visitors to stare, especially now. Maybe they recognized her from the photos floating online. Maybe they were just curious.

But the feeling wouldn’t go away.

“Miss Jang,” a voice called.

Sua turned to see a young woman smiling sweetly at her—too sweetly. There was something artificial about it, something that made her stomach twist.

“Could you tell us more about this painting?” the woman asked, gesturing to a textured, shadowy canvas near the entrance.

Sua forced a polite smile and walked over, hands clasped neatly in front of her. “Of course. This is a piece by an emerging artist who specializes in mixed media. The composition reflects—”

“That’s interesting,” the woman interrupted, tilting her head. “It must be nice working here. You get to meet so many… important people.”

Sua’s heartbeat stuttered.

She kept her expression neutral, her voice unwavering. “Yes, it’s a privilege to be surrounded by art and artists every day.”

The woman hummed thoughtfully, but the way her gaze flickered over Sua—calculating, dissecting—sent a shiver crawling down her spine.

Sua shifted, pretending to inspect the placement of a nearby sculpture, her hands hovering just above the pedestal.

It’s fine. You’re imagining things.

She took a slow breath, convincing herself it was nothing. People stared all the time. It came with the job.

They’re just curious. It’s nothing.

Then she noticed it.

One girl was watching her.

Then another.

And another.

Her stomach tightened.

It wasn’t paranoia anymore.

She tried to ignore it, tried to focus on her work, but the weight of their stares followed her like shadows. Even when she wasn’t looking, she could feel them.

Then there were two women.

They weren’t part of the usual crowd. They didn’t linger in front of the exhibits, didn’t take pictures, didn’t whisper to each other about the pieces.

They stayed near the corners.

Always in sight.

Never approaching.

Just watching.

Sua told herself it was fine. She’d dealt with lingering visitors before.

But then, as she moved toward the back hall to check on an installation, she realized something.

They were following her.

At first, it was subtle.

A few seconds after she moved, they moved too.

It wasn’t immediate—never enough to be obvious—but she saw them, always appearing again in her peripheral vision.

Her pulse quickened.

Okay. Let’s test this.

Instead of heading toward the back office as she originally intended, she took a sharp left, leading herself into one of the lesser-known wings of the gallery. The number of visitors thinned out here, the buzz of the crowd muffled by the distance.

And yet—

They followed.

That was all the confirmation she needed.

Cold dread coiled in her stomach, but she didn’t let it show. She kept walking, slow and deliberate, making a loop back toward the more populated areas. If she could just get to Ari, or another staff member—

But as she turned the next corner, she stopped short.

One of them was already there.

Blocking her path.

Her breath hitched.

Before she could react, the second woman stepped up behind her.

Too close.

Trapping her.

Sua’s pulse pounded in her ears.

The woman in front of her smiled. Soft. Polite. Wrong.

“Miss Jang,” she said smoothly, voice honeyed. “I was hoping we could have a little chat.”

Sua’s fingers curled against her palm.

“It won’t take long.”

The second woman shifted closer behind her. Not touching, but near enough that Sua could feel her presence pressing in.

Every instinct in her body screamed at her to leave.

Keeping her expression neutral, she asked, “How can I help you?”

The first woman tilted her head. “You were with Seungcheol last Tuesday.”

It wasn’t a question.

Sua forced herself to stay still. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

The woman’s smile widened, but there was no warmth in it.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Sua’s breath came slower, measured.

“There was no public schedule,” the woman continued, voice deceptively casual. “But he was there, wasn’t he? With you.”

The second woman finally stepped around, positioning herself at Sua’s side. Her eyes gleamed with something sharp. Something dangerous.

“I saw him,” she murmured.

Sua’s stomach twisted.

They knew.

The air between them turned suffocating.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sua said firmly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to—”

A hand lifted—not touching, but hovering too close.

“You don’t have to lie,” the first woman cooed, her voice almost gentle. “We saw him.”

The second woman’s gaze flickered with something dark, something ugly.

“Leaving your apartment.”

Sua’s blood ran cold.

She kept her face blank, but inside, everything seized.

They knew.

They had been watching.

How?

Had they followed him? Had they been lurking outside? Had they seen them together before?

The first woman stepped closer, her smile never wavering. “It must be nice,” she murmured, voice light as air. “Spending time with someone like him.”

“I’m sorry,” Sua said, her voice softening, laced with careful politeness. Feigned innocence. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re implying, and since it’s unrelated to my work, I’m afraid I’m not obligated to answer.”

The girl with sharp eyes took a slow, deliberate step closer.

“Oh, you understand,” she murmured. “Don’t you, Miss Jang?”

The way she said her name sent an icy prickle down Sua’s spine, each syllable curling with something far more sinister than mere curiosity.

It was calculated.

It was a warning.

Before she could think of a response, another voice broke through—louder, sharper.

“Sua!”

Ari.

Sua nearly sagged in relief as Ari marched through the crowd, her expression carefully composed but her eyes burning with something dangerously close to fury.

“There you are,” Ari said, slipping an arm through Sua’s. “I need you for a moment. Now.”

The sharp-eyed girl’s lips twitched, like she was amused. But she stepped back, allowing Ari to pull Sua away.

The moment they passed through the back door and into the safety of the office, Ari locked it behind them.

Sua sucked in a breath, pressing a hand to her forehead.

“That was…” she trailed off, swallowing hard.

“Too much,” Ari finished, crossing her arms. “Jesus, Sua. They weren’t even trying to be subtle.”

Sua didn’t respond. She just let out a slow, shaky breath, pressing her palms against the edge of the desk to steady herself.

Ari watched her for a moment, then sighed.

“You’re not leaving through the front.”

Sua blinked. “Ari, I don’t think—”

“I know,” Ari interrupted, her voice firm. “You’re going out the back. I’ll cover for you.”

Sua hesitated.

Ari stepped closer, her voice softening. “Look, I don’t know everything. But I know enough. And I know this isn’t just going to go away.”

Sua clenched her jaw. She hated that Ari was right.

“…Okay,” she finally said.

Ari nodded, relieved. “Good. Now sit. Breathe. I’ll handle the rest.”

—

By the time Sua got home, exhaustion weighed heavy in her bones.

She barely had time to drop her bag before arms wrapped around her, pulling her against a warm, familiar chest.

“You’re late,” Seungcheol mumbled against her hair.

Sua melted into him, closing her eyes. “Long day.”

He hummed, lips pressing against her temple. “Want to talk about it?”

She hesitated.

The words sat heavy on her tongue.

She should tell him.

But she also knew how he’d react.

He’d get angry. Protective.

And with his tour starting tomorrow, the last thing he needed was another reason to worry.

So she just exhaled softly. “Not tonight.”

Seungcheol studied her for a moment, then nodded. He didn’t push. Instead, he pulled her onto the couch with him, arms still wrapped tightly around her.

They sat in silence for a while. Then, quietly—

“You’ll come to the opening show, right?”

Sua hesitated.

Her mind flashed back to the gallery, to those cold, knowing smiles, to the way they watched her.

She was scared.

But she was also his.

She wanted to be there, to support him.

Seungcheol must have noticed her hesitation because he tightened his grip around her. “Please?” he murmured.

Sua bit her lip. “I’ll go.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“But only if I can bring Ari,” she added.

Seungcheol pouted. “I wanted you in the VIP room.”

“No way,” she said immediately. “That’s just asking for trouble.”

He sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. “Fine. But I’m giving you the best seats in the barricade section.”

Sua smiled. “Deal.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his thumb tracing gentle circles against her arm.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked.

She hesitated.

“…I’m okay,” she lied.

Seungcheol didn’t look convinced. But he didn’t argue. Instead, he just held her tighter, tucking her against his chest.

And for now—just for tonight—Sua let herself feel safe.

──────────────────────────────

damn, this was pretty suffocating to write tbh. hope u enjoy this!! see u on ch 11 <3

[quinloki]

I'm not even into yandere normally but I'm thinking about a polyam yandere situation with some of the WBP division commanders. Maybe you were a stowaway, maybe you were a hostage they couldn't bear to get rid of. Regardless you're entrapped between the group of them now. With such a large crew someone always has eyes on you. They rotate you between different DCs to sleep with, like a prized possession they share.

Also, if anyone is too harsh with you, there's always Marco to heal and soothe any injuries. He seems like the softest, most rational one--but in reality he's the most obsessed.

WB lets it happen--anything to keep his sons happy and under control.

Help it's too early to have these thoughts OTL

… you can’t do this to me.

You can’t

I…

Gods -

You get hurt defending one of them- you’re no one really, just some islander, never left your village hardly never mind your island, but the WBP have been protecting the place for half your life. You watched things improve.

Like most people you lookup to them, so when other pirates start a fight with them at port you’re staying out of the way, but you’re also close by. You’re not much of a fighter, but you want to see them fight, you want to witness your heroes being heroes. You’re so unskilled comparatively that you don’t realize that Marco isn’t moving because he knows an attack is coming, you think the attack is working.

Moving before you can speak the realization hits all three of you at once. The pirate turns toward you as Marco turns to see who those third person is, and it all happens just fast enough he can’t stop you from taking the strike. Clumsy and accidental, it’s still deep. Deadly, if not mortal.

The white beard pirates erupt in ferocity - they had been holding back cause they don’t treat weaker crews cruelly, but now someone under their care has been harmed. The battle barely lasts a second after that.

You’re in Marco’s arms, flames flaring around you as he takes you back to the ship. It takes days - fighting off infection and fever with his help, he and some of the other commanders listen your fever dreams - your devotion, and they watch you struggle to live. The offending crew will be on the bottom of the ocean if you don’t pull through.

When you come around there’s a celebration. You are quickly effectively adopted by the crew. You’re so enamored with all of them, these great men you idolize, that you are on your best and kindest behavior. You couldn’t dare to put them out or offend them.

By the time you’re fully recovered you realize that something’s wrong. No one’s talking about how they’ll miss you. No one’s talking about getting you home. They’ve talked about your room, your space, your home and you realize they don’t mean the island.

You stand at the railing of the great ship, so large you hadn’t barely felt the list and tilt of the waves from your recovery bed, and you see naught but sea.

Marco puts a hand on your shoulder and when you look up at him you see a darkened face and fiery eyes, a fierce and demanding gaze hidden in the hooded eyes that always seemed so docile. Thatch, Izou, Ace, and a couple other commanders are standing around. Their kind smiles and warm expressions slightly off just like Marco’s.

Menacing to you with your new understanding.

“Don’t worry, yoi.” Marco says, even and clear voice oddly reassuring, equally terrifying. “We’ll keep you safe, pretty bird.”

And Marco is the constant. It’s his eyes you see in the dim edges of the kitchen when the drugged food Thatch is giving you starts to take effect. Marco sitting in for tea with Izou, while you’re bound in shibari, elegant and beautiful and immobile. Marco who pulls Ace off you when he’s fallen asleep buried inside you and you’re too tried to get out from under him.

Marco who sits on Pops’ shoulder when you’re called to talk to the Captain.

Marco who soothes your rope burns and relieves the ache of bruising marks even as he moves over you, laying you down so sweetly beneath him. Don’t worry sweet little bird, he’ll be so gentle, so precise, so sing for him in that song that no one else gets to hear.

[bentaygas]

Marked by Fire (Chapter 5, 3/3)

Chapter 5 - The Devil You Know (Part 3)

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Alina Vaughn (OC)

Summary: Dean Winchester has seen his fair share of trouble. He’s hunted monsters, tangled with demons, and stared down the end of the world more times than he cares to count. But when a job leads him to a black-market dealer with a reputation for selling supernatural artifacts to the highest bidder, he finds himself caught in something far more dangerous than he expected. Alina Vaughn doesn’t do favors. She doesn’t trust easily, doesn’t take unnecessary risks. But when the Winchesters come knocking, looking for an Enochian sigil amulet that shouldn’t even exist, she gets pulled into a game of power, secrets, and dangerous men who don’t take no for an answer. What starts as a business transaction quickly spirals into something bigger—something neither of them can walk away from. Because in this world, knowledge is power, and power is always dangerous. And for Dean Winchester and Alina Vaughn, the real question isn’t just whether they can survive what’s coming. It’s whether they can survive each other.

Tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, age gap, UST (unresolved sexual tension), unresolved romantic tension, Dean Winchester has feelings (and hates it), angst (sort of)

A/N: Honestly, I don't know what this is. I just know that I needed to get this story out of my head and that it's been literally driving me insane for months. All the names and incidents are fictitious. All the coincidences are accidental.

This will probably take a lot more chapters than I initially planned it to be.

You can find this work on AO3: Marked by Fire

Do NOT copy, steal, or republish my work anywhere. Thank you.

࣭ ⭑⚝ YOU CAN FIND THE CHAPTER LIST HERE ࣭ ⭑⚝

The room had settled into a kind of stillness—not peaceful, but charged, like the air before a storm, thick with something unspoken yet inevitable. A slow, creeping tension coiled through the space, suffocating in its weight.

Alina hated it.

She had stood in the presence of dangerous men before, men who thought they held all the cards, who reveled in their perceived control over any given situation. Normally, she could navigate those encounters with precision—tilting the balance, shifting the power dynamics in her favor with a well-placed word or an unreadable smirk.

But this?

This was something older. Something deeper.

Because an angel was standing in the room. Because Makarov had an Enochian relic that could open doorways. And because, apparently, Dean freaking Winchester had sent Castiel to keep her from doing something ‘reckless.’

Alina exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down her face before fixing Makarov with a sharp look, her patience razor-thin.

“Alright,” she said, voice smooth but laced with irritation. “You’ve had your fun, Viktor. Now why don’t you tell us what you actually want?”

Makarov smirked faintly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before taking a slow sip. He held onto the silence a little too long, reveling in the attention, in the subtle weight of control he thought he had.

“You assume I want something,” he mused finally, voice lazy but deliberate.

Alina huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You always want something.” Her tone was cool, but edged with calculation. She tilted her head, eyes sharp. “And whatever it is, it’s bigger than money.”

Makarov didn’t deny it.

Instead, he merely tapped a single finger against the polished armrest of his chair, his gaze flickering between her and Castiel as if debating whether or not to indulge them. Then, finally, he exhaled, setting his glass down with a quiet clink against the mahogany desk.

“There’s a door,” he murmured, his voice deceptively soft. “Locked centuries ago. Buried beneath time, beneath faith.”

Alina’s stomach dipped.

Because she had read those stories. The legends of celestial gates—not just to Heaven, not just to Hell, but to places between . Places that shouldn’t exist. Places that weren’t meant to be opened.

Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t speak.

Makarov, however, noticed the shift in her expression. His smirk widened ever so slightly, like a man pleased to find a worthy chess opponent.

Angel's voice sliced through the heavy quiet, low and unwavering.

“You cannot open that door.”

Makarov turned his attention to him, the amusement never quite leaving his face. “And why not?”

Castiel’s blue eyes were cold, unyielding. “Because it was meant to remain closed.”

Makarov chuckled, exhaling through his nose like this was all a game. “Ah. So you do know which one I’m speaking of.”

Alina’s pulse kicked up slightly, but she forced herself to remain composed.

Because this wasn’t just a collector’s obsession. This was something else. Something bigger .

Makarov exhaled through his nose, rising slowly from his chair. He was tall, but his presence had never been about physicality—it was in the way he carried himself, in the way his voice curled around words like silk concealing steel. He moved toward the display case, the dim light catching the sharp lines of his face as his fingers trailed along the glass encasing the amulet.

“This isn’t about destruction,” he murmured, watching the artifact like a man regarding a sleeping dragon. “It’s about understanding . About what lies beyond the veil.”

Castiel’s expression darkened. “You speak of things you do not comprehend.”

Makarov’s smirk remained. “And you speak as if humans were never meant to know.”

Alina’s fingers twitched slightly at her sides, and she forced herself to exhale slowly, controlling the sharp prickle of unease traveling down her spine.

Because this was bad.

This was so much worse than she thought.

She had assumed Makarov wanted power, that he wanted to hold the amulet as leverage, as a piece of something valuable.

But no.

He wanted to use it. He wanted to pull something through .

Alina exhaled sharply, tilting her head. “What’s on the other side of that door, Viktor?”

Makarov glanced at her, his smirk widening faintly. “Now, wouldn’t we all like to know?”

Alina clenched her jaw.

Because he didn’t know.

He was blindly reaching, grasping at something he didn’t understand.

And that?

That was how people died .

Castiel took another step forward, the weight of his presence shifting. “This ends now.”

Makarov chuckled. “I don’t think so.”

And then—

The lights flickered. The air thickened.

And Alina felt it.

A shift. A pulse. The power rippling through the room, weaving into the very foundation of the estate.

Her breath hitched slightly.

Because this wasn’t just wards .

This was something deeper.

Something already moving .

Her eyes snapped toward Makarov. “You activated it.”

Makarov smirked. “Of course I did.”

Alina’s stomach dropped.

Because he had planned this.

From the very beginning.

The second she walked through that door, she had already been a part of it.

Castiel moved first.

In an instant, his hand was on Makarov’s chest, pressing him backward, shoving him against the desk with a force that rattled the whiskey glass, sending it toppling to the floor.

Makarov grunted, but he didn’t struggle. Didn’t even look surprised.

“You’re too late, angel,” he murmured, voice laced with something almost amused.

Castiel’s grip tightened. “I will stop this.”

Makarov laughed . “Then by all means,” he whispered. “Try.”

And then—

The entire house shuddered.

The walls groaned , the floorboards creaked , the glass in the display case rattled violently .

Alina moved .

Without thinking, without hesitating, she pivoted sharply, reaching into her coat, fingers brushing over the cool steel of her knife.

But it wasn’t enough.

Because something was already shifting .

The amulet— the damn amulet —was glowing .

Not bright.

But enough .

Enough for Alina to feel the air bend . Enough for her to know that something was coming through .

Her pulse spiked .

She had seconds to act.

So she did the only thing she could.

She moved .

Fast.

Reaching, twisting, grabbing the amulet before the glow could fully intensify.

And the second her fingers closed around it—

Everything snapped back into place.

The air stilled .

The shaking stopped .

And then—

Silence.

Deep. Deafening. Silence.

Alina’s breath was ragged, her chest rising and falling in uneven gasps as she forced herself to stay still. The adrenaline still thrummed through her veins, but it was nothing compared to the weight in her palm—the amulet, its edges sharp against her skin, its presence impossibly heavy. She was gripping it too hard, her knuckles white, but she couldn’t loosen her hold. Wouldn’t. Not yet.

Makarov, still pressed against the desk by Castiel’s unrelenting grip, let out a slow exhale. His expression remained unreadable for a moment, his sharp eyes flickering between Alina, Castiel, and the now-dimmed amulet. Then—

He laughed.

It was soft at first, a quiet chuckle that grew, a sound that sent a cold shiver along Alina’s spine. It wasn’t the laugh of a man who had lost. Not the bitter, angry amusement of someone bested. No—Makarov’s laughter was knowing. As if he had just witnessed something unfold exactly as he had foreseen.

Alina forced herself to breathe, her pulse pounding in her ears. She met his gaze, and the realization hit her like a blow to the ribs.

He wasn’t mad.

Because he had expected this.

Because he had let it happen.

A sharp twist coiled in her stomach. She didn’t let her expression falter, but she could feel the weight of his smirk pressing against her like an unseen force. The bastard had played along. And that? That meant whatever just happened—whatever he had planned—wasn’t over.

Not even close.

She exhaled sharply, shoving the amulet deep into her coat pocket, feeling the cool metal settle against the fabric as if trying to burn its way through. Then she turned, her voice steady despite the unease clawing at her ribs.

“We’re leaving.”

Castiel didn’t move immediately. His grip on Makarov remained firm for a second longer, as if considering the weight of restraint versus action. Then, finally, with a slow, measured movement, he released the man.

Makarov straightened, adjusting his suit with an air of unbothered elegance. His fingers smoothed out an invisible wrinkle on his sleeve before he looked back at her, amusement flickering across his features.

“Well played, дорогая (darling),” he murmured, his voice dripping with something that made Alina’s skin prickle.

Alina didn’t reply. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she felt Castiel step closer, his presence suddenly at her side. Before she could react, his hand settled on her shoulder—a firm but controlled touch, grounding and unmistakably resolute.

And then—

The air folded around them. The world tilted, not with motion, but with absence, as if the space they had occupied simply ceased to exist.

And in the blink of an eye—

They were gone.

[slaaverin]

In my world 2 guys who are just friends don´t act like they do. And def not when these guys are straight. And don´t get me wrong, i live in a very progressive country! Not like SK when it´s abt LGTBQ.

Okay I'm not gonna be toooooo annoyed at this anon (or you whose inbox I'm currently in) because I used to think like that. BUT!

That's just untrue. I'm from a progressive and inclusive country, and the spaces I'm in are all very lgbtqia+ positive, and I thought Jikook were very different too. Despite seeing other friend groups online (not from kpop and based in the US) where affection, expressions of love and flirting were very normal - most of the friends in the group are pan/bi but in longterm hetero relationships - I thought Jikook had that something extra.

Until I got closer to a new group of friends irl, most of whom are in happy hetero relationships, and the men (we're all 26+) treated each other with such casual love and affection that it made me reconsider things. I don't know if any of them are bi or pan, and it's not really relevant. Especially because members of the lgbtqia+ community present vastly differently even in the same social group.

What I am trying to say is not that jimin and jungkook are definitely straight. Imho, all members of BTS have made me wonder about them in that sense. It's not something I ponder for long times - as it's not my place - but I can understand why other armies might.

I'm also not denying them the possibility of having or having once been in a romantic relationship.

I just want to caution you and the anon a little because yes, while Jikook definitely are incredibly close, their expressions of love can very well be platonic. It's very heteronormative to interpret everything they do as gay just because it doesn't fit with your view of male friendships. It's not that I (or others who leave room for the truth) don't see or understand your pov, and want to avoid falling into the trap of viewing queerness as "just good friends". It's just about considering that we simply don't know Jikook.

We as fans only see a very (very) limited chunk of BTS, and only what they want us to see. Our perception will be coloured by our opinions, backgrounds and biases (not the kpop kind) and thus no piece of content or interpretation is objective.

Jimin and Jungkook are imo at least best friends. Everything beyond that is pure speculation, and we should treat it as that. I know us Jikooker want to be the sane and smart shippers in the fandom, a counterweight to the very loud and a bit...unhinged ones, but that includes (imho) understanding our own fallacies and knowing that for all the theories about Rosebowl, GCF , Letter and Who there is the possibility of it being just two incredibly close friends that love each other, protect each other and fight for each other.

Jikook = real love. That's a fact. If it's the rainbow color kind or something else, will most likely remain a question of perspective.

As a little P.S.: Please do not read this as an attack or me trying to force my views onto you. One of the great things about tumblr imho - and sth I liked about the Jikook space especially last year - is the way we can properly exchange opinions and discuss them in depth.

Opinion.

There's no definite answer.

But in my point of view the scale is more going towards romance.

But of course we might be biased and wrong.

I personally don't see the appeal of staying unbiased. We can't help feeling what we feel I guess.

But feel free to all express on this, it's interesting to have several point of views!

Thanks for sharing your thoughts 💜

[mandu-17]

Propose | Kim Yoohyeon x fem! reader

Warnings: kidnapping, manipulation, cursing, mentions of drinking alcohol, brawl

Genre: Angst with a happy ending, a bit of comedy here and there, Mafia AU

Wordcount: ~ 4,175

A/N: i had this written down long time ago tbh and when i heard dreamcatcher’s propose i thought i’d share it with you cause the lyrics kinda matches👀 let me know what you thinkk

You remember very vividly the day your whole life changed. It didn’t feel real, just a few days ago you’d been a normal young woman working at this Italian restaurant as a waitress and then suddenly you found yourself dragged into mafia’s dirty world. A huge misunderstanding. You’d never expect that tall, gorgeous short-haired woman to be a mafia member. You’d never expect Yoohyeon - that was her name - to be spying on you.

When she walked into the restaurant for the very first time and directly asked your colleague for you to get her order, you couldn’t believe it. Despite being shy, you felt beyond happy about an attractive, charming stranger wanting to have an encounter with you out of all other waitresses and waiters. You didn’t question Yoohyeon’s flirting or her curious eyes glued to your figure even while you were serving other customers. It seemed okay, more than that actually. You liked being the centre of her attention.

Yoohyeon visited restaurant few more times, always getting a Margarita from you. She’d take her time drinking it while admiring the surroundings and simply walk away after winking your way. She was generous, tipped you a lot which was another reason why you were so fond of her.

That day, there was an accident, someone drunk barged into restaurant. He kept yelling at one of the customers accusing him of lying and stealing money. His whole face turned red from all the anger, alcohol and emotions he’d been dealing with. You coworker Mark, who was also a waiter, tried to ease their nerves and not cause panic in between other guests. Unfortunately, Mark didn’t manage to take control of the situation.

You froze on the spot watching as one of the men, the drunk one, rushed to punch the other nearly sending him off the chair. That’s when even worse thing happened. The other guy started defending himself with a knife which he sneakily took from the table. Mark quickly jumped, truth be told he’d have no chance against them. It was too risky for him to intervene, so he did the only thing he could - called the police.

All of other guests were running out, as the place was slowly being demolished. It was pure chaos. You felt many people pushing through, not caring about your body. You’d almost fall to the floor as well if it weren’t for someone grabbing your wrist and pulling into themselves forcefully, yet there was a subtle tenderness to it.

“Yoohyeon.” You gasped once your hands landed on her shoulders for some support.

“It’s dangerous here, Y/N. We need to go.” The look in her eyes was so intense that you had to really push yourself in order to glance around. Almost everyone else had ran away. Yohyeon was right. You needed to find a safe place and wait for the police.

With a tight grip on your hand Yoohyeon led you outside. Something about her calm aura and confidence let you feel safe. You began to scan her body, she had great physics. Strong muscles currently covered by suit pants and a white shirt. Her face remained almost neutral, except for the gentle frown on her forehead. It only made her more attractive in your eyes, though.

Outside, you found a bit less crowded space a few meters away from the restaurant’s entrance. While you stayed focused on the situation in front of you, you missed the way Yoohyeon nodded at someone behind you.

“I’m sorry.” She suddenly said quietly.

“For wha-”

~

You woke up in a dark room which kind of reminded of a warehouse. Panic in your eyes, as you glanced around. Did you just get kidnapped?

It didn’t sit right with you.

“Finally.” Your head snapped in the direction of the voice.

“Long time no see, huh?” A tall, dark-haired woman addressed you, a satisfied smirk present on her face.

“What? What is going on? It’s a misunderstanding.”

“Don’t play innocent now, Karla. You really thought you’d get away with everything you’ve done to me?”

Karla? Who the hell was Karla?

“I am not Karla, I swear. You got the wrong person. I’m Y/N.” The woman in front of you laughed at your shaking voice.

“I have to admit, you’ve always been a good actress.” She took slow steps towards you, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “But you won’t fool me again.”

You gulped the second she knelt in front of you to look you straight in the eyes.

“I can prove it. I have no idea who Karla even is. You got the wrong person. Believe me please.”

Woman’s head tilted to the side, that’s when you finally spotted Yoohyeon leaning against the wall. Her hands behind her back, as she watched the scene with that small frown.

“Yoohyeon! What did you do?! You know I’m not Karla!” Your eyes met, but there was no empathy in hers. She stared at you blankly.

“Yoohyeon only fulfilled my order which was to catch you, the hacker.” Woman in front of you held up a picture of... someone very similar. You had to admit she looked just like you although you’d never wear her clothes. Nevertheless, your eyes widened in shock.

“I-I-That’s not me, I swear. She looks almost identical, but really it can’t be me. I’m just a waitress and a student during weekends. Yoohyeon knows it!”

You so badly wanted another girl to take action and agree with you. You thought she was smarter than that. There was no way for you to be involved in mafia’s world.

“Woah, have you already fallen for her? You think she’d like someone like you? Oh, please.”

Angry tears blurred your vision. So that’s why Yoohyeon wanted your attention. She was only fulfilling orders. You understood it when she remained motionless against the wall.

“Yoohyeon.” This time leader’s voice was surprisingly stern, far from amusement she was expressing moments ago. One word was enough for the brunette to immediately approach both of you.

“Yes?” Her cautious eyes focused on the other woman.

“Meet me in my office in ten minutes.”

Yoohyeon nodded as you watched the leader walk away. Apparently, now it was her job to look after you.

“Come on, I’ll show you your room.” Yoohyeon said over her shoulder already on her way out of the room. You hated how empty she sounded like. You hated her current facial expression. Who did she think she was? There was no way she’ll tell you what to do.

“Y/N?” Brunette turned around when she didn’t hear you getting up.

“Fuck you! I’m not going anywhere. You know damn right I have nothing in common with mafia! Why did you do that?! Why did you stay quiet when she was talking to me?” You rose on your feet, angry tears now streaming down your face. Yoohyeon clenched her jaw and quickly approached you while pinning against the nearest wall. You froze in her strong grip, you actually had no chance against her muscular body.

“I am only doing my job, okay? Stop whining and follow me. You’re already causing trouble.” She growled in your ear and you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so scared.

Her eyes were piercing through you with so much anger, Yoohyeon’s body tightly pressed against your own didn’t help either.

You really were at her mercy. She could crash you any second. For a short moment the two of you had a silent, intense battle with your eyes. Then Yoohyeon stepped back and once again told you to follow her. You had no choice. Slowly you dragged your feet behind her tall figure. While passing through different doors and halls you began to wonder how she could be such a good actress.

Just days ago, God - you didn’t even know how long you’d been there for, Yoohyeon was sending you all these winks and smiles. How could you be so naive? How could you let her manipulate you so easily? This new side of Yoohyeon, her true side that you were now following made your stomach sick. You were terrified of what she was truly capable of.

~ About an hour later ~

Sitting on the floor with your back against the wall you were looking around your new room. There had to be a way to escape. Yoohyeon left you there before heading to her leader. She told you to ‘wait and behave’.

How nice of her, you thought sarcastically.

You sighed and curled your legs against your chest. Hunger was slowly getting at you, as well as tiredness. Although there was no way you’d fall asleep in that poorly-arranged place full of old boxes and pallets. The door had a glass in it, but unfortunately it was made out of bullet-proof glass meaning running away through it was close to impossible.

As you kept eyeing the entrance, it suddenly swung open revealing Yoohyeon with a paper bag of what looked like take-out. After closing the door, she knelt down in front of you.

“Hope you like noodles.”

You stared at the bag she put in the middle of your bodies, a frown building on your face.

Wait, what?

She actually sounded kind, too.

“Not hungry.” You turned your head to the side, refusing both her food and conversation. You knew better, they could poison you.

“I know you are, but whatever. It’s not poisoned or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.” Yoohyeon crossed her legs on the floor, her moves remained calm which you took as a good sign. You just had no idea when she’d become aggressive again.

Few seconds of an awkward silence later Yoohyeon spoke again.

“Is it true?” Her voice was really soft, a part of you wanted to believe that she came back to you. “That you’re not Karla and actually have nothing to do with the mafia?”

You met her eyes, aware that Yoohyeon tried to read through you and your emotions - something she was actually very experienced with.

“It is true. I have no idea what’s really going on and this whole situation scares me a lot.” There was a slight crack in your voice. That’s when Yoohyeon’s signature frown came back.

“That mean Karla has doppelgangers. I think that’s the case and you’re simply a victim of hers.” Short-haired nodded to herself, her gaze seemed a bit distant now as she was trying to put pieces together. “Jiu also thinks it could be a mistake that we got you and not her.”

“What does that mean then? Who’s Jiu?” You looked at her, desperately looking for answers. It was about your whole life at this point.

“Jiu’s the leader, she was talking to you earlier. Still, she’s unsure whether or not you’re only acting innocent so we need to wait for her decision.” She shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Are you kidding me? You’re going to let an innocent person get hurt or even killed because of your leader? Fuck, Yoohyeon! It’s my life on the line here.” This was ridiculous, you just had to raise your voice in frustration.

“Shut up. Yelling won’t fix anything.” One sentence was enough for your eyes to fill with tears again. You hated the woman in front of you, with your whole heart you despised her. “My life’s on the line too, if you weren’t aware. Although, Jiu’d never hurt me. We just have to wait few more days and then we’ll know what’s coming.”

As she finished talking, Yoohyeon gently clapped both her thighs announcing that she was done.

“Eat up.” Her monotonous was back the second she got on her feet.

You couldn’t believe she was real, it was impossible for a human being to be so awful. Eating was now the last thing you could think of.

“You know I’m innocent, right?” Before she left, you asked in a small voice filled with a tiny bit of hope.

Yoohyeon then turned around to analyze your features. Her eyes watched you carefully for what seemed like eternity. She let herself stare at you for a moment longer before finally blinking and gulping. She looked away, you had no idea what was going on in her head.

When she reached out for the doorknob you felt a single tear wetting your right cheek. You were convinced that there was no rescue for you, no escape.

She let out above the whisper, but she knew you could hear her.

“I know.”

~ The next day ~

Despite trying your best to stay awake in a foreign, dangerous place, your eyes fell closed eventually. You were completely worn out and mentally exhausted. There were no windows in the room so you had no idea what time it even was and for how long you were asleep.

It was Jiu who woke you up this time.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” She addressed you noticing your body laying on the cold floor. All your muscles were sore because of how uncomfortable your position was. Anxiously, you looked up at her smirking face. “Come on, we’ll have some fun somewhere else.”

With a gulp, you got onto your shaky legs. You had no choice but to follow her. Like a prisoner.

Few minutes later Jiu told you to take a seat on a wooden chair, as she sat down on the other side of the enormous desk. Interrogation began.

The leader kept showing you pictures, most of them being very graphic, but it was the first time you’d seen them. You had no idea who these people, victims were. Even after asking the same questions over and over again, Jiu didn’t believe you. Both of you felt like going crazy. You wanted to be free again and she didn’t really know what to do. Finally, after sighing tiredly, she took her phone and called someone. Jiu spoke shortly, her tone didn’t leave any room to argue.

When a tall, well-built woman came in, you had a hunch where everything was heading to. Especially since she was carrying a baseball bat. They wanted to torture you.

“Handong, look at these.” Jiu’s words made the woman approach the leader immediately. She stood behind her and was analyzing both pictures and documents on the desk.

That was your chance.

You quickly glanced at the massive door before making a decision. You needed to run away, fast.

As if electrified you jumped out of the chair ignoring Jiu’s mad calls and Handong running after you. There was no looking back, as you paced through the huge warehouse. By taking a few random turns, you managed to lose the woman following you. Luckily you found space with no people in it. The only minus was that you didn’t know where to go and what was truly ahead of you. Which is why you totally didn’t expect a sudden set of stairs leading to the basement.

With a groan, you fell down while probably twisting your left ankle. You had no more power in you, no more energy to run. The pain was too overwhelming. The only thing that came to your mind was hiding, so that no one could see you in that long hall.

You crawled behind a huge plastic box filled with some liquid and hid between it and the wall. If someone was using the stairs, they wouldn’t see you.

Then, all of the sudden, you heard two pairs of steps nearing. One from the above, running and another from down the hall - steady and slow.

“Hey! Have you seen that Karla girl?” This had to be Handong on top of the stairs, but who wsa she talking to?

“No, but try in the garage. I heard someone running there.” Yoohyeon.

Your eyes widened and you did everything you could not to make a sound. While holding your breath, you heard Handong running again in a different direction. You were praying that Yoohyeon would also go somewhere else and not notice you.

You remained quiet, just when you thought she was walking away, her face came into your view as she crouched beside you. In shock, you almost yelped but quickly covered your mouth with your hand. Short-haired was watching you with that unreadable expression before smiling amused.

“Watch out for the stairs next time, will you?”

So she knew it was you, but still told Handong to go somewhere else?

“What? Did you just keep me covered?” You couldn’t believe it.

“I know what I’m doing, okay?” Yoohyeon looked at you expecting an affirmation, one of her eyebrows raised. Simply, you nodded not trusting your own voice anymore. “Let’s go, I’ll bring you back to your room.”

It was very weird. Why would she do that when you were in the middle of talking to Jiu? Shouldn’t she bring you back to her leader?

Confused, you got up but was reminded of your injured leg. Yoohyeon saw you flinching with every step you took, but the moment she opened her mouth you protested.

“I’m fine.” Stubbornly, you followed her.

In response, Yoohyeon rolled her eyes and after two more meters of you still not catching up, she turned around. Wordlessly, she closed the distance between you two and lifted you in her arms. You were beyond speechless when she readjusted your body, making you wrap your arms around her neck in a hurry in order not to fall. She held you in a bridal carry method. Her grip really strong, she didn’t even look like she was struggling with all your weight on her.

“Why are you doing this?” You used the opportunity to study her face. Neutral and bored almost as always. That’s what made her so unpredictable. You never knew what she was thinking.

“Why are you so stubborn?” She asked back.

This time, you rolled your eyes.

You chose to stay quiet for the rest of the way. Truth be told, you kind of felt okay with Yoohyeon holding you like that. Almost safe. You enjoyed the leather material of her jacket and the feeling of her hair brushing against your hand as it bounced along with her steps.

Her smell was also nice, strong yet comforting. Finally, you couldn’t help but stare at her lips. They were so close, barely a breath away. Yoohyeon’s whole body was very warm. The contrast to the air and atmosphere around you.

With a deep sigh you hated to admit it, but you liked being this close to her. You wished you could stay like this for a long time.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Yoohyeon smirked at you, noticing how you were constantly ogling her.

“Very funny.” Your response was quiet and filled with sarcasm as your eyes narrowed in annoyance.

Since she didn’t appreciate your staring and teased you about it you rested your head against her shoulder, almost in the crock of her neck. Your breaths must have tickled her skin as goosebumps slowly appeared. You felt yourself smiling gently.

“You can get off now, you know.” Once again her voice was full of amusement. She just loved making fun of you, didn’t she? Although, you had no idea when you even managed to enter your room.

“Right.” Mumbling, you got on your own feet with a pained expression when your left leg hit the floor. Yoohyeon’s hand stayed on your waist in case you couldn’t find balance, for that you were grateful.

“Let me see it.” She helped you slowly sit down and examined your ankle. You gasped when she turned it in her hand a bit too fast. Nevertheless, her touches were gentle, it didn’t seem like she wanted to hurt you. She even apologized for grasping your leg too hard.

“It’s twisted, I’ll get some bandage. Don’t move it too much, okay?”

It’s not like you physically could.

Moments later, Yoohyeon came back with a bandage and a weird smile playing on her lips.

“What’s so funny?” You frowned when she began to wrap your ankle without a word. She was very delicate while helping you.

“Jiu and Handong are still looking for you.”

Are they dumb? Or is Yoohyeon the insane one?

After all, she’s incredibly brave to go behind her leader’s back like that.

“Are they going to hurt me for running away?” Fear present in your voice as you whispered.

“I’ll take care of it.” Yoohyeon said seriously, your eyes met briefly. It was her way of confirming and keeping her promise. Eye contact.

“I see you haven’t eaten yet?” With a glance at the unopened take-out bag, she finished wrapping your your leg. It felt slightly better already. “What food do you like then? Rice, chicken, pizza?”

“Pad Thai’s fine.”

“We’ll go once it’s all over.” Yoohyeon nodded while standing up.

“Are you asking me on a date?” You blurted out of blue. You had every right to be confused. With Yoohyeon nothing was certain.

“That’s for me to know and for you to...” With a light shrug, she turned around and left.

You shook your head and leaned against the wall. What world was she living in?

That was an excellent question.

~

Later that day Jiu visited you for the second time. She seemed to lack some of determination she’d had earlier.

“Yoohyeon twisted your ankle?” Was the first thing she said. Her eyebrows raised in disbelief, she looked comical almost.

You opened your mouth to protest, but were fast enough to catch up on what was going on.

“Yes.” You kept your head low in order not to give yourself away.

“That’s a bit weird of her.” Jiu admitted out loud before remembering what she came for in the first place. “Listen, Y/N.”

It was the first time she used your real name. Did she understand that you were not the one she was looking for?

“You’re in danger now. Karla changed her appearance on purpose so she has people who look like her. Which means that you can be targeted by many people.” You looked up to meet Jiu’s eyes. Her face was serious, but since she was warning you like this, it meant that she’ll let you go, right?

“However, just as much as you’re in danger- you’re also lucky.” Jiu sighed upon seeing your lost expression. “You’re lucky Yoohyeon likes you. She won’t let anybody hurt you.”

Now it all made no sense. It was ridiculous for the leader to even be saying such things.

“But she twisted my ankle.” Unsure, you argued causing dark-haired woman to chuckle.

“She lied straight in my face about twisting your leg. I saw how you fell down the stairs on cameras and Yoohyeon still chose to lie about you. You’ll be safe with her.” Something on Jiu’s face changed. Now, she looked like she was having a conversation with a friends or something. Almost like she was giving advises to someone close to her.

Your tongue was tied. You had so many things to ask her, yet you didn’t know where to start.

“A-Aren’t you mad?”

“At her or at you?” Catching you off guard, Jiu sat down next to you.

“Both?” You honestly felt like everyone there was making an idiot out of you.

“I’ve known Yoohyeon since I can remember. I can tell right away when she’s lying or when she likes someone. It’s the first time she behaved like that, though. She’s never tried to protect someone so much.” You looked down feeling your cheeks warm up. “I’m not mad at her for that. I want her to be happy. I’m also not mad at you. Just frustrated, but nothing about it is your fault.”

You nodded acknowledging, but also appreciating her calm voice. Jiu seemed alright.

Now, you were feeling both excited and very nervous about meeting Yoohyeon again.

You had a lot to talk about.

~

While admiring the first sunset in the last few days you were waiting for Yoohyeon at the back of the old warehouse. Handong was the one who walked you outside. She helped you with the ankle and told you to wait few more minutes for the short-haired.

The second you heard steps coming your way, you turned around. Yoohyeon’s hair was bouncing as she walked towards you, her hands hidden in the pockets of her jacket.

“You up for some Pad Thai?” She asked with that damn smile.

After a nice evening out, she walked you home or more accurately carried on her back. Her strong hands were holding your thighs. Your arms were hugging her neck and you let your body press against her back fully.

“I like your perfume.” You shyly said.

It was now completely dark outside, but you weren’t afraid. Yoohyeon wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You knew that now.

“Thanks, it’s Gucci.” She giggled randomly making you laugh as well. You felt every vibration of hers. Every breath she took.

You wanted to stay close to her forever.

[ardentpoop]

i sometimes feel like ripping out my hair when I think of the way both normies and fandom treat Sam and Dean within the Narrative but so much of my anger dissipates when I just think about how Americans are simply Not That Smart. i know its quite cruel, but so much of the conclusions, themes, structures and interactions they have with this show are so intertwined with Americanisms and the things that are baked in the country (patriarchy, anti-intellectualism, colonial settler fantasies) that in a strange way someone who is disenfranchised or completely removed from american life has a better grasp on the show than usamericans (ex.Chinese, Russian, and eastern fandom in particular imo) even me personally, who grew up in Texas ironically 💀 as a Muslim girl had an inexplicable draw to spn despite it being the antithesis to my existence in many ways. even sam and dean in their own show, despite being the protagonists and lauded as images of pure masculinity and heroism (esp dean in the later seasons lbr) if both of them were real- they'd be very much disenfranchised and disconnected from "normal" and societal life that's promised to white men like them- but their whiteness offers them the semblance and "look" of normalcy, despite living lives completely removed from that.

i personally feel that the only way this show will be fun to analyze in a broader space and have a fandom worth interacting with to think critically w esp w normies is when american culture shifts- which will be a long while with the state of things here lmao. but it's kind of the same song and dance in terms of analysis and values w most of the other fandoms I've been in too, which have been pretty diverse in terms of origin- but eventually tainted by the American Thought that reached the broad fandom and normies, which is what I feel happened w spn fandom mostly and the writing of sams character (which unfortunately affected the actual canon sooner or later). but so much of my grief and issues with western and American feelings and views on spn and fandom I can boil down to a very mean thought which kind of bleeds to many other things: Americans are Not That Smart dkduskhssk

anyway, just wanted to share my thoughts bc i feel we have similar feelings esp as samgirls in a Dean Centric World 😔 but more importantly as ppl who grew up muslim and have that context and feeling when it comes to interacting with media. Love 4eva and luv ur posting abt samdean divorce era <3

omg hi <3

I’m always startled to realize how many muslims (slash ex-muslims) were drawn to the show despite ummmm. the obvious reasons it “shouldn’t” appeal. I wish I’d connected with more of you during my first stint in fandom bc meeting a couple of other muslims thru my original interest in the show was a profoundly impactful experience for me :’) I grew up in a very conservative household so you can imagine the confusion of my teenage years. the tumblr fandom feels extremely white american overall and always has, which is a shame, bc as you said I think we could be having much more interesting conversations collectively if the majority didn’t routinely bulldoze fan POVs that are considered fringe.

and yeah tbfh……it is simply a harsh truth that americans are not that smart. as a stupid american myself there were a lot of realizations about the world that I came to much later than I would have had I been forced to start seriously developing my political consciousness when I was young.

thank you for sharing and I hope this silly blog lifts your spirits occasionally in these difficult times :)

[chevelleneech]

Someone shared an edit that shows Jungkook as his sexy, tatted up self in a JK stan group and the post was captioned "congratulations to whoever bouncing on it" and me being me always looking for trouble, I commented "what if he's the one doing the bouncing?"

And just as I predicted, a bunch of people crashed out under my comment, talking about "that's weird, that can never happen", and the classic "you don't know him!" I told them they do not know him either to be saying someone's bouncing on his dick, and they genuinely didn't get it. Instead of just saying "well whatever/yes that could be/he could be doing both" or whatever like normal people, they reacted like I insulted their mothers. One even thought they said something smart by saying "we don't know his sexuality, but if he is "like that" he's definitely still the one getting his dick bounced on"

People can try to be so accepting of homosexuality, until they have to imagine the sexual part and suddenly people are fighting for their lives to prove how their faves absolutely 100% are not and will never be on the receiving end.

The misogyny is unbelievable. And coming from women..

“What if he’s the one doing the bouncing?” Is honestly the funniest thing I’ve read in a VERY long time, lmao!

You’re right though. Trying to get people to even partially agree that it’s possible for Jungkook to be queer, is like pulling teeth. Getting them to understand he could maybe like men exclusively, is impossible. Trying to make people understand he could enjoy anal sex regardless of his sexuality, and therefore be a Bouncer, is akin to asking someone to light a fire in outer space.

Mind you, I do not go around discussing JK’s potentially preferred bed positions, because I don’t care. I do think he’s probably gay and I do think he’s aware of what topping and bottoming is, as most adults who frequent online spaces are. More so if you’re an adult who 1) watches/watched porn 2) has queer friends 3) engage in queer media. All of which we know he did and does. Therefore, him answering “top” when asked, “top or bottom”, means he either is a top or prefers to top.

Who he’s topping? I don’t know, but it doesn’t make sense to be a fan who actively denounces the possibility of your fave man, in particular, being queer and/or into anal sex. Men in general freak out at the thought of it, because they don’t want to be seen as gay, even though that’s not how being gay works. But the point is, no one except Jungkook and the people or person he’s having sex with, if he’s having sex, knows what he likes and whether or not he is doing the bouncing or being bounced, and it truthfully doesn’t matter.

What you said is funny to me, though, because it’s true, but that’s the extent of it. I understand you weren’t being super serious to this people, but it’s both a simple yet reasonable thing to bring up given the context of conversation, but is also such a harmless joke. The same that can be made about pretty much anyone. I’ve seen people joke about Zendaya pegging Tom Holland, for fucksake, lol. It’s not that deep, no pun intended.

How someone has sex does not determine the kind of person they are. At least not completely, so those people should probably relax more. Especially because I don’t think Jungkook cares if people thinks he’s a bottom, likely because it’s never going to be revealed to us. Not in a way that satisfies the people who need 100% indisputable proof that he knows what gay sex is and how it’s had. Again, I do think he’d already answered the question, but a lot of people also believe he meant “top of the charts”, so… whatever, lol.

And you’re right again about it being rooted in misogyny and femmephobia. It’s why I believe Jimin is so heavily targeted by Tkkrs and JK solos. Jimin isn’t overly feminine, but his antis will make it seem so, because he’s slender and pretty. They can’t stand the idea of Jungkook enjoying the company of someone like him, which is why they are so desperate to paint the idea that Jimin is a sexual aggressor and JK is an unwilling participant. They don’t like the possibility of Jungkook being “beneath” someone they deem undeserving. It’s why he’s the big possessive one to both shipping and non-shipping fans. He’s the “man” in every scenario (gay ship or het fantasy), and “real men” never bottom aka “submit”. That’s a woman’s thing to do, according to their logic

[sushirrrry]

CELESTIAL | II. NEWTON'S THIRD LAW OF MOTION

7.1k words - on-going story

chapter one here

Chapter One. Fundamentals of Statistics.

I write a few problems down, a few definitions that seem to be a bit more of a challenge. My handwriting flies across the page as I write in a few calculations that would be helpful for the exam tomorrow. I'm not an expert on statistics, but I can problem-solve easily when it comes to mathematics equations.

Everything I look at makes perfect, logical sense when it comes in the form of equation and number sequence. That was the way I liked it.

And if there was one thing that I was good at, it was creating study sheets. While I didn't necessarily need it, I thought that there may be a time tonight during studying that someone does need it.

The possibility of that felt oddly exciting, but I tried not to think too hard into it.

I had made my way home after my two classes this morning. Grabbing lunch at the dining hall, I decided to bring it back to my apartment—just a salad, really—and watched a few episodes of The Twilight Zone on the sofa while I ate. I particularly liked the episode about the bank clerk that enjoys reading, but never has the time– it keeps my attention even though I know what happens in the end.

Chase had chosen to have his classes in the afternoon, I had classes in the mornings on Thursday's. We missed each other, usually, and then were home in the midafternoon together. On Thursday nights, it kind of depended on his schedule, we would normally order in some food and just kind of hang out together.

Lately, though, Thursday afternoons had started to turn into his night to go out with friends. I knew that he had class in the morning and had seemed to overlook this part of his schedule. He leaned more towards getting drunk with friends nowadays than what we had normally scheduled, especially last year.

But that was okay—it was fine. I was fine to study Thursday nights, and I wanted him to be able to have fun, if that's what he wanted.

My only problem was when Chase brought his friends around the apartment. This was the only part of our relationship that slightly bugged me, but of course, he shared the space. I just didn't enjoy this because his friends were horrid, and I would have just rather that they weren't involved at all.

Of course, I tried not to be too much trouble. I sat back and let Chase do what he needed to do—if that meant having friends over, I wanted him to do that. I wanted him to have the experiences that he wanted, and I knew that he would be courteous to me, as well.

But that didn't keep his friends from being major blow heads.

After I ate, I had finished watching some of my show, and decided to get a start on creating some questions to go over for the statistics course. I figured that at least getting the basics down for the exam would be good—even if it wasn't going to get her the A, I still wanted her to have a clear understanding of what was being asked so she could at least have a solid effort.

I'm sat at the small table in our dining and living space; it's not much, but we're able to use it for studying or having a meal together. I decided to sit outside of my bedroom to start, the light from the living room brightened it up – it was nice, quiet.

Until Chase and his friends have arrived over to our place. I have my headphones in, eyes averting to the three men as they walk in laughing, their voices loud now.

I notice that they have started to unpack a few bags from their trip to the store. There's some food, some drinks—by some, I mean, quite a few. I hadn't asked any questions about the plans for the evening, mostly because I wasn't really interested in whatever they were.

But I did keep looking up occasionally, seeing the cases of beer, the handle of liquor, and bags of crisps that were starting to grace our small kitchen.

Again, no questions asked—that was usually the best policy when it came to things like this. I decided to keep to myself, working on categorical sequences that would be used to study patterns.

Through my headphones, I can hear a bit of banter from the three of them—I don't know if they're trying to be quiet at all, but I can hear them clearly through the Mozart No. 23 in A Major.

"So’s he, like," The tall blonde one, with the very noticeable Liverpool accent, scoffs, "Gonna stay there all night?"

I can hear them beside me, but I'm just pretending that the headphones are blocking out all the sound. They aren't, but I pretend that they are for my own sake. Maybe focusing on the work in front of me will keep me distracted.

"That guy's totally brings the vibe down— we like never see him out or anything." The other guy says. His voice is quiet, but not quiet enough. "How do you sleep here with him? He's weird, bro. Like never talks."

I look up from the computer screen just a bit, just enough to see that Chase notices that I've heard what they're saying. Chase and I make eye contact for a moment; he shakes his head.

He noticed that I heard them, and that I'm able to continue to hear them. I scoot out from my chair—the one that I pay rent to sit in—before I move up towards the fridge to grab something to drink.

They're staring at me now that I've moved, almost like it's an anomaly to them.

That's the thing—Chase has been my roommate since last year. We were paired together randomly; I didn't care who I roomed with because I felt like I could get along with anyone if it really came to it. I wasn't really an issue, I didn't think. I was quiet, kept to myself. I didn't think that I was necessarily a problem.

Chase was extremely kind– he was a bit unsure of himself, maybe testing out the waters of who he wanted to be. We got along fine, he was a bit shy when he first arrived, too. That's how we became pretty good friends. Maybe we didn't have all of the same interests, but I knew that we looked out for one another.

But then things changed when he started to meet people who wanted to go out every night, and who were drinking to get drunk. And do other things, I guess.

Chase never brought anyone home or anything, which was good– well, for me. Maybe not him, I wasn't sure. We didn't talk about that.

His friends, the drinking, the going out– it didn't stop Chase and I from being friends. It just made me a bit uneasy when he's brought his friends to our apartment that we shared.

His friends weren't my friends.

His friends were on the football team and went out to pubs to find pretty girls. That just wasn't where I was, and it wasn't what I was directly focused on in school. Girls weren't interested in astrophysics, I seemed to find.

Chase's stare on me doesn't go unnoticed as I look back from grabbing a can of Coke from the fridge. I make my way back to the small table, starting to pack up the papers I had spread around it.

"Harry, you remember Hayden and Shawn, right?" Chase looks at his friends and I can tell he's trying to mitigate like always. He looks back at me with a bit of sadness reigning in his face, "We'll leave you alone, H, you can stay and study."

I shut my laptop, knowing it's much easier to find a more comfortable spot elsewhere.

I had to be at the library soon, anyways.

"No, it's fine," I say, a bit quiet as I watch his friends grumble under their breaths "I'm meeting someone anyways."

The tall blonde with a middle part and a denim jacket scoffs out a laugh before I feel a rush of anxiety flood my upper chest as I can feel the judgement and overwhelming sense of unease. I clear my throat, grabbing my laptop and loose papers before heading towards my bedroom.

"Wait," I hear Chase following me, but I just make my way to my room in a few strides anyways. I start to pack up a bag of my belongings, eyes looking up at my friend. "Why don't you stay here and drink with us? You don't even have to drink, really. It'll be fun. Maybe they can, I don't know, get to know you."

"I'd rather not get to know them," I tell him honestly. My lip pulls into my mouth, his exterior shows a bit of defeat as he stands inside the doorframe. "They're pricks, Chase."

Chase looks over his shoulders at his friends who have started to make themselves at home. They've started to take already opened liquor out of our cabinets, putting them on the counter space around the unopened ones. They take bowls out and plates and other things that are also mine but it's easier to stay quiet.

"Just keep everyone out of my room, please." I tell my friend before I pick my bag up from the floor. I grab all of the statistics papers from the desk, placing them in their own folder.

Chase stands at the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, keeping conversation. "You meeting with Niall, then?"

Niall was one of my closest friends in uni. He was majoring in engineering, but we had a few math classes together which had made us grow close. We had the same type of love for our education; wanting it to be the best we could be.

We were competitive with grades, in a fun way. We liked knowing how everything worked and figuring out problems together.

Niall and I had gone to a few parties and events together in the past– we had both understood that wasn't our scene very quickly.

And that's why we were friends.

"No," I shake my head. "He's busy tonight. I think has some sort of club fundraiser. Don't really know."

Chase's face changes a bit. I look up to him when he squints at me, his lips quivering a bit into a smile. It's a bit unnerving when he does so, and it's just a bit confusing at first.

"What? What's wrong?" I ask, grabbing my shoes that sit over by the closet to put on my shoes.

"Is it someone I know? The person you're meeting?" Chase doesn't attend back to his friends, and only seems to be entertained by what I'm doing. I blink a few times at him, wondering his angle.

"Uh," I think a few times over at how Chase could have possibly known Stella, "How would I know? Maybe. It's just a girl from my statistics class. Needs some tutoring for our exam tomorrow." I throw my bag over my shoulder before I'm standing in front of him.

We're standing in front of each other, but he's not backing down from his way in the door. Chase's smile flips up and he stares at me for a moment.

"Chase." I say, pushing my glasses up, "I have to get to the library."

"Tutoring is kind of sexy, huh?" He teases, my eyes roll at his stupid comment.

"It's not like that." I tell him quickly, shaking his head.

"Surely, she asked you to study with her. Not the other way around." He questions, putting his arms across the doorframe so that I couldn't leave. I stand in front of him, trying my best to dodge the questions and seemingly meaningless accusations.

"Does that matter?" I ask, a bit confused by his statement.

I watch as Chase smirks, his eyes lighting up at my words, "Hope you won't end up in 414.”

Pushing my glasses up my face, I shake my head a few times as I stare at him, completely unsure of what he was talking about. I don't even want to ask, but I can see that he's pushing me to, so I shrug my shoulders at him. I've given up that he's going to let me go.

"I don't know what that means." I say to him before I watch his eyes get bigger.

"You don't know about 414? Damn, you do live under a rock."

I roll my eyes, pushing at his shoulder to try to move past him before he pushes me back and laughs a little.

"414 is a room on the top level of the library where no one ever goes—it's like, completely hidden. There's a journal for it across from the room where people like, write in time slots to go and fuck because it's a completely soundproof study room that you can lock. For all those freaky kids. You'd probably be into that, honestly."

I lick over my lips as I push into him again, but he's not budging. I look at him, trying to get him to wipe the smug smile from his face before he raises his brows at me.

I click my tongue, "I'm going to completely ignore this conversation, if you don't mind. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Chase rolls his eyes, letting me finally go by removing one arm from the doorframe.

I knew I've made a mistake saying anything at all, as I push past him to try to make my way out of the apartment in one piece without thinking anymore into what kind of information he's just given me.

I walk into the kitchen; it's not much, so it feels a bit cramped with the four of us now inhabiting the space. Chase's friends are standing around and suddenly quiet when I approach the room. I unscrew my water bottle at the sink, filling it up in the silence of the room.

“What's up, Einstein?" The other friend with very dark hair smirks at me, both lingering as Chase approaches too. "Why don't you take a break from studying and hang tonight with the boys? Or are we too much for you?"

I ignore it– pulling my lips into my mouth as I bite my tongue. I screw the lid back on before I turn and see Chase looking at me.

"We're just having a few people over tonight, nothing big. Then we're going to happy hour at Lou's." Chase assures before I nod at him. I clear my throat before pulling at the straps of my backpack.

"That's– okay, yeah, that's fine." I assure him. "I'll be back later."

With another nod, I go to the front door where a small dish holds all our keys. I grab my lanyard that holds my car key and my apartment key before I start to head towards the stairs. A few sets of those, and I'm on the main floor as I move out towards the library which is only a short walk.

Just my thoughts and I again.

It had thankfully stopped raining a few hours ago, which just left everything quite damp and wet. I trudged through a few puddles on my way there, looking across campus.

There weren't a lot of people walking around, probably because it was also a bit on the cool side. I had been wearing the same black hoodie from the morning, so I wasn't cold on my walk over there.

But it was getting to be the colder part of the year. England had rainier seasons, and the fall always seemed to have the worst weather. At least snow looked nice—rainy, damp, and dreary were just a bit depressing.

Making my way to the library, I open the large door and smile at the girl who sits behind the desk at the entrance. She's always very friendly, giving me a warm welcome when I walk in. She had short blonde hair, golden brown eyes and is always looks like she's happy to be there.

If she's not, she's putting on a great show.

“Hey, Harry,” She states softly, “How's it going?”

I wish I knew her name– she knows mine, so I feel a bit awkward as I approach the desk. She's never really talked to me before, but I smile at her.

“Uh, it's good,” I nod, rolling a hand through my hair, “I– just have an exam tomorrow. So,” I reference upstairs, feeling that my cheeks are most definitely hot from the way she's hanging in every word.

She’s sitting behind the desk, a book on the table as she seems to have been reading while she sat there. I know I should say something– maybe add a bit of conversation but I don't know what else to say.

I smile and nod a few times, using my hand to scratch at my hair in an uncomfortably awkward way.

“I’ll see–“ I start.

“Would you–“ She says.

When we speak at the same time, we both smile, and I hear her giggle for a moment before she shakes her head.

“I was just saying,” She licks her lips, “If you're ever interested, we have a book club here on Tuesday nights. I-I mean, I’m just saying because you're always here– I don't know if you read for fun or anything,” She clears her throat, “But if you did.”

I look down at the book in her hands, nodding a few times before I speak again. “That– is that the book?”

She notices that I caught sight of what she was reading, looking up me and holding the cover up, “Yes– well, no, actually. It's just a Murakami book– After Dark. This isn't what we read for book club– well, kind of.”

I looked at the cover and back to her, cutting her off as she seems a bit flustered. “I may check it out, yeah,” I swallow before clarifying, “The club. The club and the book.”

The girl bites her lip before she shakes her head, “Um– sorry, I’m Faye, by the way.”

I bite my cheek as I watch her eyes crinkle at the sides when her cheeks turn up in a small smile.

“Faye.” I say quietly before I nod at her, “I’ll see you around.”

She nods back at me in acknowledgement before I start to make my way back towards the steps, so I can make my way to the third floor where I usually have my set up. It's nice because it's always the least busy of the levels. The first floor holds computers, which are the most used for printing and workshopping. The second and fourth floors have more study rooms, and the third floor is mostly aisles of books and free tables.

That's where I prefer to be, close to the window so that I can look out occasionally over all the people who are making their way across campus; heading wherever they need to be on a Thursday evening. It also adds a bit of lighting until the sun heads back on the other side of the world, which is helpful just for a while.

The watch on my wrist reads 6:12pm. I had a while before I was expecting someone else to arrive.

It had started to get a bit darker—mostly because the clouds had started to overcast, which meant that the sun wasn't visible anyways. The days were starting to shorten, and winter was starting to become a bit more of a reality.

As I sat and studied other classes, I had realized that my watch started to move a bit faster every time I looked at it.

Six turned into seven.

Seven turned into eight. And I was still sitting at the table by myself.

Being in the library by myself was lonely– it was the first time that loneliness and being alone were coexisting. Something about being stood up, being left alone was a different level of loneliness. It was an embarrassing loneliness.

I tried to focus on other work at my table, tried to think more about Mach's principle as I read through the textbook. I tried to ignore the time, tried to ignore the feeling in my chest that maybe I had miscommunicated about times or where we were supposed to meet. Maybe I had given her a false impression, or we miscommunicated on time.

There were reasons I didn't put expectations on people– in many ways, they never showed up like they were supposed to. I didn't want to feel disappointment anymore, or that my excitement didn't match others.

Doing good deeds seemingly never panned out in my favor, as it showed. Maybe I read into it too much, maybe she felt bad for me and decided to ask to hang out so I wouldn't feel so shy. Maybe she said yes because so had approached her, now she felt bad.

It worked, I guess. For a bit.

I couldn't focus– I hated that feeling. I never had a problem with it before, and now these ideas of anxiety rushed through my head as I tried to put my nose to the page to forget about the way that this had made me feel. My glasses fell to the bridge of my nose, and I pushed them up to their place.

A heavy sigh fell through my lips as I noticed the time that had simply slipped by.

8:30.

I had been waiting for hours– I told her I'd be here at six, and I gave her the benefit of the doubt for an hour. But now it was spelled out perfectly for me, and I didn't really want to read between the lines.

Sitting back in the wooden library chair, I ran a hand through my hair as I finally decide that it's time for me to start heading home.

Hopefully, Chase and his friends have moved onto the bars, and won't be there when I get back. That would just put me in a worse mood. As I push myself up to start packing up my belongings to head home, I hear the door of the staircase open.

I'm the only one up here most nights, so the noise elicits me to jerk my head up. The sound of clicking heels on the tile make my eyebrows knit before I see the culprit of the noise, and the person heading towards me from around the large bookcases.

My eyes gravitate towards the extraordinarily long, bronze legs that melt into tall, brown boots on the ends. A cream skirt that sits short on her thighs but high on her waist, with a knit sweater top that has a few buttons done up in the middle, but the rest of open in a triangular shape on her torso. Also bronze, also tall.

I've never seen anything like that in the library before.

"Oh my god, there you are!" The girl stomps her way over, her voice relatively loud for the space as I feel an unsettled amount of surprise. It is a library, after all, and she's a bit loud.

I'm a bit taken aback; I fall into the chair once again as I'm watching her pull out the chair in front of me.

"Who knew there were so many levels of this place?" She laughs to herself– the glitter on her eyes shines so bright as I notice the crinkles by her eyes. "Don't know if I've—well, I don't think I've ever been in here properly, really."

It's such a difference of what she looked like just hours before. The tear stains are gone, there's a lightness to her now that's different. The makeup coating her face is natural and dewy with such high points of shine, her lips pouty and brown with a glossy finish.

I'm absolutely confused and feeling suddenly warm underneath the black hoodie at the same time.

But there's also a slur to her words as she places her hands and the small bag on the wooden table loudly.

"I'm sorry I'm late," She rolls her eyes dramatically, "I got dragged to this thing– well, I mean, I had to go to it. But I thought that this was a really good excuse to leave." She giggles a little, her smile bright and white.

I watch as her sleek, dark brown hair coats over her shoulders. It's got a bounce of soft curls that are much different than the chaos of curls that had been thrown into a ponytail earlier.

I'm in a bit of shock as I look away from her and back to the papers that have surrounded me just moments before.

"Um– I mean, are you—" I look up at her, watching as her eyes struggle to follow mine. There's a soft smile on her lips as she leans on the table a bit almost like my question is the most exciting thing to her. "Are you drunk?"

Her face falls a bit, as if I just found out her biggest secret. She shakes her head a few times, "No– no, I just had a few—" She shakes her head more, but I can tell that her balance is a bit off as she shakes her head. "I'm totally fine."

In the moment, I see that her body seems to stiffen at recognizing that my energy simply doesn't match hers. She can see that I'm a bit taken back by her suddenness of being here, and I don't really know how to react to her sitting across from me now.

I don't really know how to feel now because I'm not sure I was planning for this situation at all. Especially from the morning that she had. It was different, it wasn't exactly what I had expected from her, and I'm trying to think about how to proceed.

"So," I start, a bit confused, "you're not here to study.”

I watch as her eyes shift over the papers that I am starting to put away, maybe a bit guilty that she had come in the first place. Maybe it would have been better to be stood up than to watch the look on her face.

"Oh, are you, like," She licked over her lips, her eyes batting a few times before she notices that I've started to pick up a few things around me. "Were you getting ready to leave?” The look on my face must register because her eyes drop and she bites her lip, “Oh, fuck—okay, yeah. I'm sorry. I'm so stupid– I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. I just– must've been some miscommunication." I tell her softly, nodding a few times to remind us both that we had just been mistaken.

Stella goes to stand from her spot, pushing herself up from the chair before she pulls the skirt down her legs a bit. I watch as she grabs the small bag that had been sitting on her shoulder when she walked in.

She tucks her hair behind her ear, and I notice the small earrings that are in the dainty shape of stars settle into her lobes.

I clear my throat.

"You didn't have to—I mean, you didn't have to come, if you were having fun. I just– I mean, I thought you needed help.” I tell her softly, watching as she seems a bit lost about where to go now.

As if this was the only place she was planning on going. Almost like she didn't really see this outcome, or maybe felt like she wasn't wanted here. That wasn't the truth at all, but I didn't know how to express that.

A bit of glitter has fallen from her eyes, landing softly on her cheeks as she stands at the table.

"I knew that I was going to leave the party early," She nods her head softly, "I just didn't—yeah, I messed up and– like, I do need help but I just... Sorry for wasting your time."

There's a moment when she starts to walk off that I stand from my seat, pushing the chair back. A weird, unidentifiable feeling comes over me.

“Stella, wait."

Her head turns back towards me, a bit of a stumble in her step at the high-heeled brown boots that stack up her calves and to her knee. The unsteadiness of her walking seems a bit dangerous to me, and I don't really want to see her fall.

"Can I—I mean, don't feel like you have to say yes but," I push my hands into my jean pockets as I take in a deep breath, "Let me take you back to your friends, or something. I mean, I don't want you to—" I shake my head at my words, knowing that they sound a bit odd as we don't know each other at all. "You shouldn't be walking on campus by yourself at night."

Her eyebrows knit together, like she was trying to process the way that I spoke to her. She stared at me, a familiar stare from earlier in the morning. This time, she looked a bit more vulnerable. It was almost like she was in disbelief that I would even offer in the first place.

"Oh," She turns to me a bit, her arms crossed over her chest. "Yeah, sure."

Before there's any more conversation, I start to pack my belongings back in my backpack. All of the papers I had created for her were stuffed back into the folders, hopefully she didn't even notice that I had done that to begin with. My cheeks flush just at the thought of how ridiculous it sounded now.

Once the backpack is full, I throw it over my shoulder and start to move a bit closer to her.

Orange blossom and citrus melt from her skin, which makes me shut my eyes just at the idea of it. We start to head down the steps of the library, her feet almost dragging underneath her.

I'm not entirely sure that she realizes how many drinks she's had, but I let her take the side of the railing so that she can make her way down without tripping.

On the last staircase, her toe gets stuck underneath her foot, which makes her stumble a few times. I reach my hand out, grabbing at her elbow to steady her as she gasps at the way her balance has been thrown off. The immediate touch burns my palm, feeling her skin through the sweater material of her top.

"You okay?" I ask, watching as she nods her head a few times, humming—possibly a bit embarrassed by how off she really is. "Where do we need to get you?"

I watch as her brain starts to turn at the thought of where she needs to get to. I wonder how she got here in the first place, and who let her walk around campus like this on her own. I try to meet her eyes as she rubs at them, a bit of makeup smudging as she does so.

"Um," She shakes her head, "Flats towards 12th West. Don't really know what they're called."

We're standing outside of the library now; I'm facing her as she tries to recall where we need to go. I don't know that I've ever really dealt with a drunk person before like this. Chase was better at taking care of himself, so this was new to me.

I nod a few times, "I'm headed over there, too. Can you call a friend to ask?"

I watch as she hums to herself, agreeing with me and grabbing her cellphone out of her purse. It immediately drops to the ground from the slip of her fingers, landing with a crunch.

"Son of a fucking bitch," She exclaims, moving to squat down to grab it, but I'm already there.

Her reflexes are obviously not what they need to be, as she puts her hand over mine when we both reach for the phone. She doesn't pull away quickly, instead, keeping it there for a moment as I turn the phone around in my palm so that she can grab it.

"Thanks," She says softly, looking at the newly broken screen that leaves a large crack up the middle of her phone. "Fuck."

I watch her go to unlock the device, scrolling through her apps before landing on one and looking at it a bit intensely. The crack seems to not be that big of a deal anymore as she starts to focus harder on the screen.

"This building, here," I see that she's looking at the Find My Device, looking at a device that is right in the general direction of my apartment building. A friends contact pops up, and I try to see where it is.

The closer I look at the device, the more I notice... it is my flat building.

I take in a breath as I look at the girl, wondering if she had partaken in the Jack Daniels that had sat on the counter before I left for the library. I wonder if the scent of orange blossom would linger on my sofa at home.

The odd thought is immediately pushed from my brain as I return to reality. "I live over there, so I'll just walk you back, okay? Tell me if anything looks familiar."

My eyes linger over her body that she is crossing her arms over. The slight chill in the air makes her legs to shift a few times as we stand. I can tell that her discomfort is overwhelming her, and I feel like watching her is hurting me in a way.

"Here," I set my backpack on the ground by my feet for a moment.

Her eyes watch me do so before I pull the black hoodie from my torso, over my head. I knock my glasses on my face a bit so they're on the edge of my nose. The warmth of the cover on my body is now gone, but I watch as she seems a bit uncertain on what I'm doing.

"Take this. It's a bit of a walk." I hand her the black hoodie, her eyes trailing over it for a moment. I can see there's hesitation, which only makes the anxiety settle in my chest at her unwillingness to take the piece of clothing.

This is probably weird, and I regret it immediately.

I watch as she grabs it from my hand to throw over her body, a bit disoriented. When she lifts her arms up, the edges of her top move up around the bottom of her ribs.

I flush immediately, a heat rising up my neck almost disregarding the coolness in the air tonight.

My eyes look away, but seeing her head pop out from the hoodie makes me feel better that at least she can stay warm now.

I can't imagine that someone has allowed her to be out here like this. She walked all this way, alone, without someone to help her. She can barely walk in a straight line as we start down the other towards the apartment.

A bit of wind sweeps through, her legs exposed, and my own arms now just bare with my t-shirt.

I don't know how to firmly create conversation with her– mostly because I know that her mind isn't in the right place. Stella and I do not seem compatible, and every move she makes reminds me of that. I've watched an odd twelve hours of her life, from a huge mess to a complete mess.

But, something about her is intriguing. I’m the curious type.

My hands push into my pockets, the backpack thankfully shielding my back as we walk down the cobblestone pathways. We've walked a bit in silence, and I feel like that's for the best. But I try to give a bit of talking points in case she needs it.

"Anything look familiar?" I say, trying to keep myself warm as I feel her sway a bit against me.

Her eyes move from their site in the path to where we are on campus.

"N-No," Her teeth chatter, and I feel incredibly guilty for not driving over here instead. "B-but this is s-so nice of you." She turns her head, a mess of soft curls in her face as she pushes they out of her eyes. "You must h-have a good m-mum."

I knit my brows together, a bit confused by her logic. I push my hands far in my pocket as I grit my teeth together at how cool out it is. "Why do you say that?"

"Only a g-guy with a nice m-mum would walk a g-girl home in her going-out clothes without l-looking at her ass and just covering her u-up more." Stella chuckles a little bit; it sounds like she's trying to make a joke, but it only aches in my chest as she crosses her arms over her chest tightly.

I didn't really find that funny.

I pull my lips into my mouth as I turn my lips up just enough to acknowledge her humor. "You just need to get home safely."

I hear her sniffle next to me, the coldness getting to her. The bright pink of her nose is noticeable as the coolness hits us.

My apartment building is in sight, her eyes reach up. "This is where the party was." Her hand points directly at my building before I nod a few times.

"I live there, actually," I say, biting my lip. "I think my roommate was throwing the party you went to. His name is Chase."

Stella clears her throat, wiping at her nose, "Oh! Yeah, yeah. I know Chase.” She tells me, biting her lip, “I didn't know you lived there. You're never there when we come over.”

I take a breath in, “I– I probably am there. I just– I just don't really…”

“Not your scene?” She asks, the heel of the boots click across the pavement.

I shrug. “Not really. I– I don't drink or anything. I don't know.”

Stella tucked her hair behind her ear, “You don't have to drink. Maybe you could just hang out. You seem,” I look over at her once she pauses, “You seem really nice.”

I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth before I feel the tinge of a smile. “Thanks. You're pretty nice, too.”

When we reach the door, I open it before she walks inside the lobby. We make our way to the stairs– the elevator is seemingly always broken. I take the lead, going in front of her before we reach the second level.

When we make our way down the hall and to the front door of my flat, Stella doesn't say anything else. She just seems to accept that this is where she needs to be, and she seems to recognize where she is.

The music is over-stimulatingly loud from where we're standing out front, and I’m trying to anticipate walking into it. My hands reach into my pockets as I grab the keys. She looks much smaller wrapped in the black hoodie as it drapes down her front, hiding the remnants of the cream skirt that is gracing her small frame.

I stick the key in the door, pushing it open and hearing the blast of music immediately hit us both.

They hadn't left yet, like they said they would.

When we walk in, I move in first, Stella following behind. I look around, seeing more faces that I didn't know. There are significantly more faces now, and I just let out a sigh.

When I walk towards the kitchen, I can feel Stella behind me before I catch Chase’s eye, but I hear a louder voice first.

"Stella," I hear, "where the fuck did you go?"

I watch the blonde man from earlier approach her immediately disregarding me, a beer in his hand as he gets too close to us. I watch hesitantly as he pulls her closer, as if my existence was purely nonexistent to him.

I drop my keys in the small dish before star making my way through the crowd of people to walk back down the hall and to my bedroom, as if the past hour didn't happen. The noise of the bass is a bit overwhelming; the people don't seem to interest me.

"Needed to go for a walk." I hear her say, "I thought you guys were going to get something to eat?"

"Harry!" My eyes move to the kitchen where Chase seems a little looser than before; his smile undoubtedly bigger as he comes closer to me.

My head turns back, as I feel a grip on my arm before I can make a getaway.

"You found Hayden's girlfriend?" He asks, his eyes moving towards the familiarity of the brunette with amber eyes who had my black hoodie on over her body.

Everyone was way too drunk to miss that part. The black hoodie– I’m sure if someone knew, I'd be in trouble for that.

I stare at her talking to Hayden, her face looking relatively upset from their conversation. His hand reaches to her waist, pulling her in to kiss her.

Immediately, I look away. I feel a racing in my heart that's feels completely unnatural and like anything else I've ever felt before. Maybe the feeling of throwing up is also present, which is also weird to me.

My head turns away from the interaction– I start to pull away from Chase, back to the safer confines of my room. Back where my time and kindness aren't taken for granted.

Back to where something as simple as watching that interaction doesn't add a ridiculous ping of annoyance in the settlement of my chest.

"Yeah, something like that." I say to him, moving away before he can follow me to my room, just like earlier.

"How was your studying?" He asks, pretending like he cares for a moment. I can tell by the look in his eyes he won't remember this conversation tomorrow.

I turn towards him, holding my door in my hand, "Don't know if she's going to remember anything tomorrow for the exam. But I tried."

With a simple shut, the music is still a bit too loud from the other side of the door. But, out of sight, out of mind.

I had a stats exam to finish studying for.

______________

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

More Clone Wars headcanons that I keep basing off me and my family cause where else am I gonna get inspo from

Both Anakin and Ahsoka try to keep their shared space as clean as possible 

Whenever they’re home and have free time after a long mission they’ll go around and pick up messes and they’ve got a somewhat decent system going until they get to the dishes that’s when war breaks out 

Normally people switch between who loads and who unloads but most of the time it just falls on Ahsoka to do both and she’s tried literally everything to get him to do the dishes

She’s made a chore chart, she’s let the dishes pile so high they’re at risk of all falling out, and she’s ratted him at to Obi-Wan but nothing works except giving him a challenge 

One day out of the blue she said something like “Last one to scale the wall washes the dishes when we get home!” 

And here’s the thing they’ve been doing these competitions for years so she knows he’s more than down 

Rex claims he’s never seen two people climb a wall faster in his life “They were like a blur” is something he mumbled after the two probably broke the galaxies record 

Ahsoka won by pure determination alone her sore arms and scraped-up hands would be worth it when she got home and wouldn't have to do the dishes

Even tho their shared space is relatively clean Anakin’s room is like a death trap

Random clothing items are strewn all over the floor and pieces of droids are scattered among them the first time Ahsoka walked into the room she almost ate shit twice and if it wasn’t for her training she would have hit the floor the second she stepped inside 

It’s a genuine miracle that he’s able to navigate this landmine of crap especially cause he doesn’t have night vision like she does 

Ever since I heard Ahsoka growl that one time I’ve been imagining her doing rottie rumbles (which just means she growls when she’s happy look it up it’s adorable) 

The first time it happened was when Ahsoka and Anakin were watching a movie and they fell asleep 

He woke up basically on top of her and heard quiet rumbling coming from the togruta he quickly got off cause he thought he was hurting her and she woke up confused he asked if she was in pain and all she said was that was the best she had slept in a while 

The next time was when the two had to share a bed with Obi-Wan it ended up working in their favor cause the planet they were on was freezing 

She started to growl again but the two men were 1. Too tired to move and 2. Kind of curious why she was growling 

When nothing changed and she didn’t seem to be exuding any kind of pain or stress they stayed 

After a couple of times Anakin and Obi-Wan managed to calm down this instinctual part of themselves that told them to back up when something growls 

The first time Padme witnessed it was during a big old group hug between her, her husband Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka 

She almost gave it to that instinct if it wasn’t for Anakin and Obi-Wan's calm demeanor 

Honestly it’s kind of become a telltale sign of who’s close to Ahsoka cause most people that she’s comfortable with know the difference between her happy grumbles and the growls that mean she wants to tear someones face off

Both Anakin and Ahsoka hate going to the med bay and the halls of healing or any place that’s got a person with medical training and tools to poke and prod them  

And the healers hate them for it because most of the time the last thing they want to do is chase down a Jedi and his padawan as they’re bleeding out

So most of them banned together to give the duo a pretty extensive first aid kit and teach them both how to use it 

Because for some kriffing reason they’re okay with being poked and prodded at if it isn’t a medical professional

The duo also participates in a decent amount of first aid training which has saved both of them and many other's so no one complains when they skip out on kind of important duties for those classes

As someone who has a lot of older siblings who I’m not related to so it wasn’t uncommon for people to tell me how attractive my siblings were 

So I’m just imagining the other padawans telling Ahsoka how lucky she is to have Anakin as a mentor and while they’re complimenting him she notices a lot of those comments were centered around his age and his looks 

At one point she’s sick of it and just straight up confronts them about it and they turn around and go “Well don’t you agree?” she alternates between being hunched over laughing and hunched over gagging 

Anakin finds her a little while later still stuck in this sick cycle surrounded by a group of concerned padawans 

He tries to get her help cause she’s kinda freaking him out but she stops him and just guides them both away because she knows if he shows more protective older brother energy the padawans are gonna be even more weird 

Literally everyone is too scared to mention Ahsoka’s physical appearance around Anakin 

But there have been a couple of times when he’s on an off-world mission and witnessed some dumb kids pushing their friends in her direction because it’s obvious they think she’s pretty

God forbid they catch a glimpse of him while it’s happening tho cause they walk away shaking like a leaf  

He doesn’t think Ahsoka noticed and even if she did he distracted her with boba and ice cream because she can never turn that combo down