#she’s a long line with spikes lol

[ihangelic]

PAS DE PUNK ╱ h.taesan

you and taesan go together like classical music and rock: not at all. but similar to the way taesan keeps getting piercings, there’s something about the way he gets under your skin that you kind of like— and you’re too proud to admit why you keep coming back for more.

pair ; punk!taesan x ballerina!reader

genre ; smut (with plot), fluff?, rock band au, enemies to lovers

warnings ; fem!reader, taesan has piercings (including tongue), arguing (flirting), some jealousy, ‘make me shut up’ kiss, confessing of feelings, petnames (mostly princess), lots of mentions of taesan’s hands & rings, dom!taesan, bratty/sub!reader, thigh riding, praise, degr*dation, bre*st play, begging, a little sp*nking, no prep, piv

wc ; 8k

playlist ; smells like teen spirit by nirvana / sugar we’re goin down by fall out boy / a little death by the neighbourhood / punk rock princess by something corporate / she’s kinda hot by 5sos / good girl by thomas larosa / s*xtape by deftones / closer by nine inch nails / all i really want is you by the marías

✉️ 𓂃 ₊˚⊹ note ; happy new year!! idk if it’s unhinged to make a playlist for a smut fic but i couldn’t help myself ><. i avoided using lesser-known ballet terms for non-dancers to understand (aka me), but also tried to make it enjoyable for dancers to read. hopefully i was successful lol.

! . . . COPYRIGHT OF IHANGELIC

dancing along with the music of l’oiseau bleu is practically impossible when it sounds like a rock concert is taking place in the room just across from you.

lowering to stand flat footed in your pointe shoes, you raise your hands to your face, pinching your nose bridge in frustration as you try and resist the growing urge to pull your hair out.

the obnoxious sound of drums, a bass’s low rumble, and an electric guitar’s higher tune rings in your ears— drowning out any of your more rational thoughts until you’re left with only rage.

you try your best to block it out, to take a moment to breathe and try to get a controlled hold over your emotions— and you think it may work after you cover your ears with your own hands, the sound of the instruments still audible but sounding more distant. then the teeth gritting noise of a cymbal pierces through the barrier of your hands and it’s almost like it’s a sound effect for the way your train of thought shatters, letting out a sigh that sounds much more like an animalistic scream before stomping over to your phone and turning off the music.

power walking out of the dance studio and to the very unfortunately placed neighboring rental space, you don’t even have to turn the knob as you look through the glass door. the raging bitch face you wear is absolutely effortless as you mean-mug all three ‘problems’ in the room; ‘problems’ that drip in leather, distressed or patched fabric, spikes, and way too oversized jeans. you’re about to feel acquainted with the three men as this situation seems to occur more and more often.

foam panels are stuck to the walls; black cords are neatly coiled or in squiggly lines across the floor; and of course there’s guitars, a drum set, and microphones everywhere.

finally you catch the eyes of the long, blond haired drummer— and that gives you enough incentive to open the door and barge in like you own the place.

“could you be any louder?” you rhetorically ask, but it goes unheard as two of the men sing passionately into their microphones, eyes closed and hands working the strings of their guitars while the drummer keeps playing his drums— all while staring at you with a relaxed, barely inquisitive face.

“could you be any louder!” you shout, the end of the sentence awkwardly fading in volume when there's a screech from one of the guitars and everything goes quiet.

the two seeming vocalists turn their heads to look at you, all three men now staring while you stand, clearly bothered as your hands are on both sides of your hips and your chest heaves with deep breaths of frustration.

“well…” the dark haired, taller one begins— and your expression only sours more as you’re already familiar with how snarky and full of himself he can be. “you’re the one yelling.”

you let out an appalled scoff, unable to help the way your eyes roll as you’re angered even more by how that only seems to make the man smirk.

“if someone has to yell just for you to hear them that means you’re the loud one.”

“you sure about that, princess?” he asks, quirking a pierced brow. your impending explosive response must be visible as the shorter statured one interrupts for damage control.

“w— we’re sorry!” he starts, speaking on his friends behalves. the blond’s expression never changes as he stares at your fuming face, while the darker haired looks like he’s about to protest— but the other continues before he has the chance. “look..we got off on the wrong foot and…”

the way his hands float in front of him, bass hanging against his chest by the strap— it only adds to how lost he looks on what to do, and it makes you feel kind of bad. (for him at least.)

you’re about to start apologizing when he’s suddenly reaching his hand out towards you.

“i’m riwoo.” he introduces, then gestures over to the other two men. “this is taesan and leehan.”

“…y/n” you say somewhat sheepishly, a bit of your shame coming back at the politeness of the bassist you now know as riwoo.

previously you’d only knock aggressively at their door to ask them to shut up, a few times popping your head in when that didn’t work to snappily ask them to please try and keep it down at least a little. you’ve never actually had a full conversation with them before— or an argument...whatever this exchange of words could be classified as.

“unfortunately we can’t really be any quieter. we have to practice for a gig we got coming up—“

“isn’t your little dance school supposed to be closed now anyway?” taesan abruptly interrupts, yet again grinding your gears with the snarky way he says the words ‘dance school’.

“it’s closed for classes, but the rooms can be used for practice up until eleven pm.” you provide smartly, catching yourself before you scrunch your nose in disgust at him.

“we try to keep the noise at a minimum if we’re here at prime hours,” riwoo cuts in again, attempting to explain gently. “but past that…” he trails off, shoulders shrugging as he gives you a sympathetic look.

you process his words, how he really is seemingly trying to help you out here, before sighing softly as your hand raises to press into your increasingly aching temple.

“do you have to use your amps?” you ask, raising a hand to point at one.

“did you not hear him? we have a show to do, we need to practice as best as we can. so yes, we have to use our amps.” taesan firmly states, over enunciating like you can’t hear. his brows are slightly furrowed as his previous amusement is completely gone, a flame of annoyance now in his eyes.

you let your hand defeatedly fall and slap against your bare thigh, taesan’s eyes glancing down at your leg for the smallest of moments before looking back up to glare at you.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” you bite at him, sick of his selfish attitude as you turn your body fully in his direction, crossing your arms.

“wxnder.” he dryly states, making your head tilt in confusion and absolute impatience.

“huh?”

“wonder— but like, with an ‘x’. that’s our band name.” leehan provides, throwing you off as you’re momentarily sidetracked by how deep and smooth his voice is. (are all these men vocalists? also, with an ‘x’— how cheesy can they be?)

“you should come watch us perform.” he smiles widely, eyes creasing and everything. you’re yet again thrown off as he speaks to you with such casual friendliness as though you haven’t practically yelled at all of them and continue to seethe at his guitarist like you want to rip his throat out.

“uh, i…”

“i’m sure miss priss has other things she’d rather do, like dance to swan lake in a feather tutu or something.” taesan finishes your sentence for you, conjuring a string of curses to lace your tongue.

“shut the f—“

“bye, twinkle toes.” he waves you off dismissively, grabbing the neck of his guitar by his multiple ringed fingers as he directs his attention back to his instrument and mic.

“it was nice meeting you, y/n.” riwoo adds somewhat shyly, adjusting the strap of his instrument as well— though much more apologetically.

“see ya’, y/n!” leehan calls before picking up his drumsticks and twirling them in his hands, looking up to taesan for his cue. you watch him cock his chin, the sudden rhythmic pounding of leehan’s drums making you flinch before taesan and riwoo start playing their strings again.

riwoo’s voice starts out soft before slowly raising in volume and you’re shocked by his melodic vocals that contrast so satisfyingly well with the rock instrumentals.

still disgruntled but more off put than anything, you don’t know what more to do than shuffle out of the room, shutting the door behind you as you stare at the air in front of you.

well, guess it’s time to find some earbuds that are sound and pirouette proof.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

you got it. you got the lead role.

all the extra (maybe slightly excessive) practicing, late nights and frustration (which would be a lot less if there wasn’t a band next door) paid off.

you’re playing as princess aurora for your dance studio’s performance of ‘the sleeping beauty’, which will be showing at a local theatre next month.

jaehyun, your good friend and fellow dancer who’s always making you smile and lightening sullen moments during classes— is your dance partner, playing as prince désiré.

the second the both of you found out you got lead roles, jaehyun was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement, insisting that you go out tonight to celebrate.

which is why you find yourself by jaehyun’s side at ‘sundown lounge’, your favorite bar and hang out spot.

“you look good, by the way!” jaehyun attempts to speak over the loud karaoke, leaning a little closer to your ear as you weave through the crowd.

“thanks!” you turn your head to smile at him over your shoulder, hoping your iridescent eyeshadow twinkles under the lights how you wanted it to.

“you do too.” you compliment before someone’s elbow is jabbed into your stomach, squishing yourself against the wall as you and jaehyun try to make it to the bar to order some drinks. “why is it so busy tonight?”

“i don’t know, maybe it’s happy hour!” jaehyun suggests hopefully, but when you finally reach the counter his theory is proven wrong when you’re told everything’s its original price. regardless, you sip on a strawberry margarita while jaehyun holds a glass of something that looks like muddy water before deciding where to sit.

“wanna go there, near the stage?” he asks, pointing over to a table that’s very near the performance area. you’d rather not have to hear a drunk girl sloppily sing a britney spears song right in your ears but jaehyun finds it hilarious, often unable to resist curling in on himself while giggling uncontrollably— and that always makes you laugh. so you nod your head, jaehyun grabbing your hand to make sure he doesn’t lose you in the crowd before leading you to the table.

there’s only two more songs played before the dj hops on the stage, speaking into the mic. “karaoke will be ending as it’s time for the band of tonight to take the stage. give us a few minutes while the performers are setting up!”

some people in the crowd hoot and holler excitedly as jaehyun turns his head to you. “i wonder what type of band will be playing tonight, last weeks was pretty good.”

“it’s punk rock!” a girl excitedly butts in from the table right next to yours, having accidentally overheard your conversation.

“a rock band?” you ask, somewhat groaned in annoyance as you now have a personal vendetta against the genre. but your tone goes completely unnoticed by the girl as her eyes continue to sparkle with enthusiasm.

“yeah! their music’s really good and they’re all super hot, my favorite one plays the electric guitar.”

“what’s their name?” jaehyun asks, curiosity evidently sparked.

“wxnder!” she answers, and your brows furrow with the familiarity of it. where have you heard that name before?

the girl’s head turns at a sound and her mouth drops open, a small uproar caused as some people in the crowd shriek and cheer. the unexpected noise has you flinching before looking towards the stage— and your jaw drops too, but not in a good way.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me...” you say to yourself in shock, watching as riwoo sits down his amp and plugs it into the wall.

“what?…what!” jaehyun whisper-yells, grabbing onto your arm to try and get your attention.

leehan appears next, sitting down behind the drum set that’s already on stage and wagging his head to adjust his hair, causing another small wave of squeals.

then a broad back covered by a black leather jacket abstracts your view, and he doesn’t even need to turn around for you to know who he is— but he does anyway. the way taesan almost immediately catches your gaze amongst the crowd is infuriating, smirking while glancing down at how close your table is to the stage before looking teasingly into your eyes again.

and it makes you pissed, unbelievably so— yet you feel your cheeks burn as you can’t help but think about how hot he looks, the stage lights glinting off his lip ring and drawing your eyes towards them.

have his lips always been so…plump?

taesan winks at you before looking down to tune his guitar, hands gripping the neck of it. veins pop out from the contours of his knuckles; long, thick fingers adorned with silver rings picking at the strings.

fuck…

“y/n?” jaehyun tries again, and you finally respond with the shake of your head, downing the remainder of your drink like it’s a shot.

“it’s nothing.” you insist.

after a few minutes of setting up, tuning, and making sure everything’s in order; taesan introduces the group (not that he exactly needs to, since it seems the bar is full of their fans), saying that their opening song will be ‘take my tears’, a song he wrote himself.

usually you and jaehyun talk throughout a band's live performance, as they’ll be playing all night— but you can’t seem to look away as you listen to the lyrics and how they perform.

it’s entrancing— much different than when you’re trying to ignore them through the studio walls. the song is somewhat emotional, beautiful; yet it also has such a fun and freeing feel. or maybe it’s just the way they sing it— how taesan sings it, his body grooving and head nodding to the beat of their sound. the lyrics aren’t what you’d expect from him— the guy you thought he was, and it leaves you wondering what more there is to him that you wouldn’t expect.

your heart skips a beat, and you’re not sure if it’s just the thrill of the rock music or if it’s because of him; the annoying, pompous punk who suddenly looks so sexy when he’s performing. (and never any other time. definitely not.)

you’ve just finished your second margarita and are a little buzzed by the time their set is finished, the night passing faster than you realized.

jaehyun is eating on a basket of fries, yapping away so fervently that he doesn’t even notice how you’ve gotten up from the table and are approaching taesan— who again locks eyes with you as he walks down the steps of the stage to meet you halfway.

“so, what did you think?” he asks, a little out of breath from the long performance, having had no breaks in between songs.

he stands closely so you can hear him— and it’s enough for you to smell his cologne; to see the way sweat clings to the skin of his neck; deep breaths coming out in puffs as his chest expands. something about it all has an effect on you— or maybe it’s something in the air, because taesan doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes rake over your body, admiring your legs in your denim mini skirt.

“you..you guys were amazing.” you compliment, sounding a little out of breath yourself.

taesan makes a ‘hm’ sound, faintly smiling at you while biting his lip— and you swear you see the glint of metal on his tongue.

your body heats up as you wonder if his tongue is pierced too, what kind of things he could do to you with it, what it would feel like against your skin— before you frantically try and dismiss the increasingly dirty thoughts, reminding yourself that the man you’re fantasizing about is right in front of you.

“i didn’t think you’d actually come.” taesan says, speaking in a teasing tone that you swear seems flirty paired with the slight quirk of his brow.

“how’d you even know we’d be here? did you stalk us, princess?”

okay, surely that was flirting, right?

you’re about to playfully roll your eyes, paired with a smart little comment and deny that’d you’d ever be interested enough to ‘stalk’ them— until the girl that spoke to you about wxnder earlier suddenly appears, putting herself between you and taesan.

“you were absolutely amazing, taesan.” the girl croons, confidently placing her hand on his forearm as she leans all up in his personal space.

and you expect him to shrug her off, either politely or not-so politely establish some distance between them. but again, he surprises you— in a way you absolutely hate.

he smirks at her, in just the same way he did to you just moments ago— and leans even closer to her face, unneededly close.

“aren’t you sweet. thank you so much.”

“no problem.” the girl smiles cattily, clearly enjoying the attention.

something in your heart burns, and that familiar feeling of uncontrollable annoyance comes back even worse than before.

“do you think i could get your autograph?”

“sure, princess.” taesan answers lowly— and that does it.

without even feeling the urge to look back and see that girl all over him, you’re gone, picking up a drunk jaehyun by his arm.

“wh— where are we going?” jaehyun drunkenly slurs, eyes glossed over as they look at you.

“to get an uber home.” you answer firmly, eyes hard as you once again weave through the crowd.

you feel eyes on your back, but you ignore it until you get to the door, turning your head as jaehyun leans half of his body weight against you. even amongst all the faces, you and taesan’s eyes meet easily, his arm now slung around the girl’s waist as she whispers something in his ear.

his lips are in that same smirk— like he’s taunting you, and you scoff, dragging jaehyun and yourself out of the bar.

you can’t believe you were actually feeling into him— but you surely don’t have to worry about that now.

he’s just confirmed that he is in fact what you thought he was: an absolute ass and a cocky player who sings on stage to get girls in his bed.

well, fuck him. he can get his dick wet with anyone he wants but it sure as hell won’t be you.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

the very next day you’re back at the dance studio, rehearsing for the upcoming performance.

jaehyun whines the whole day, saying that it’s somehow your fault that he got drunk off his ass— but despite that, he does incredibly well during class. you do also, but unbeknownst to you, your friend wonders why you seem so tense— like something has been bothering you all day.

“shouldn’t you go home and rest, y/n?” jaehyun asks you at the end of class hours. everyone else is packing up their totes and leaving, yet you’re stood at the ballet barre doing leg exercises.

“i’ll be fine. practice makes perfect.” you insist, keeping your eyes on your form in the mirrored wall.

“well..just don’t overwork yourself, okay?” jaehyun sweetly tells you, and you flash him a thankful smile through the mirror.

“don’t worry, yunie, i wont. see you tomorrow.”

if it weren’t for the absolute beast you’re known to be in the studio, jaehyun would force you out of your pointe shoes and drag you home himself— but you don’t seem even a little bit tired, and it appears as though you have some steam to blow off.

so jaehyun and you exchange goodbyes before he leaves you in the empty classroom. (yes, completely empty— aside from the lady at the front desk. no one is as obsessive as you to want to stay even another second practicing when you already have for the whole day— on a saturday night, no less.)

you spend the next thirty minutes going over the steps you learned today that you don’t have down perfectly yet, having small cool downs in the form of stretching in between.

‘entrée d’aurore’ is still playing on your phone when you hear the distant voices of what must be the front desk lady and someone else speaking. you wonder if somebody has returned to get some extra practice in as well, and as you hear footsteps approaching, you remain sitting on the floor doing toe touches.

the door to the classroom opens, echoing slightly in the big, empty space— you lift your head to see someone who definitely is not a part of the sleeping beauty cast.

“y/n?” taesan says somewhat quietly, eyes looking around the big room that only holds one ballerina, who looks small in comparison to the high ceilings and vacant space.

your eyebrows furrow, somewhat irritated to see him while also being surprised— not only by his presence but by the unfamiliar way he almost looks sheepish: barely taking a few steps inside the classroom, looking around like he expects someone or yourself to scold him and kick him out.

“…don’t tell me you auditioned.” you joke, although it’s said casually. your eyes only scrutinize him for a second before you look back down to your own hands as you stretch them across your straightened legs and to your toes.

taesan has seen you a handful of times when you’re in your casual practice wear, but what you’re clad in for an official performance class is a little different. you’re wearing a black leotard with a little mesh skirt, a cropped shirt overtop, tights, and black leg warmers.

you look..really cute. even when you’re pretending to ignore him.

“no. the lady at the front desk said you were in here.” he explains lamely, all his usual snarky remarks not coming to his thoughts as he watches you in your element.

“good. i don’t want to see you in tights anyway. not your aesthetic.”

“sure you don’t.”

your head snaps to look at him before you can think not to react, cheeks heating up as you see the twinkle in his eyes and the small smile he tries to conceal by pressing down his lips.

you sigh as though you’re bothered— because you are— obviously…and get up from your floor stretches to walk over to the ballet barre again. taesan follows you.

“i don’t know why you’re here but i’m practicing. you should leave.”

“who was that with you at the bar last night?”

your cold indifference is broken at the unexpected question, your expression clearly confused as you look at the man standing beside you in the mirrored wall.

“what, jaehyun? he’s my friend. he wanted to go out to celebrate our castings. y’know, for the performance i’m trying to practice for right now?”

“so it was a date.” taesan remarks, eyes hardening right in front of you— and there’s that angered burn in your chest again, your hands squeaking from how tightly they hold onto the barre as your expression turns sour.

“who i date isn’t any of your business to speculate. i haven’t asked you what you and that fangirl got up to last night, have i?” you snap, raising a challenging brow at him— but it only makes him shake his head in unbelief, staring at you like you’re an absolute idiot.

“what? y/n, i don’t even know her name.”

“yes, well, i’m not surprised over that. i’m guessing it’s not very important for you to learn a girl’s name— as long as you’re in between her legs by the end of the night.”

his hand is on your shoulder, turning you around to face him abruptly as he stands closely, right in front of you.

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean? you think i fucked her?”

“i don’t want to know what you di—“

“shut the fuck up.” taesan orders, his fingers curling over your wrists making you wonder when they got there in the first place.

“make me.” someone (you?) says, and then you feel the cold press of taesan’s lip ring against your mouth.

it’s firm at first: the way his lips slam into yours, how both of your expressions still look pissed off at each other, even with both of your eyes closed. but eventually you seem to realize that taesan is actually kissing you— and then you’re melting into him, sighing as you feel his touch soften in response.

his kiss quickly turns demanding, lips moving against yours in pursuit of your taste. you squeak when his teeth bite at your bottom lip, not knowing you’ve fallen right into his trap until his tongue has already seized the opportunity and invaded your mouth. turns out you weren’t wrong when you thought you spotted a ball stud piercing on taesan’s tongue, you can most definitely feel it when he brushes it against your own appendage.

your head is pushed against the mirror from his vigor and you whimper, never having felt so dominated simply by a man’s kiss; taesan explores your mouth like he owns it, like it’s his, and it makes your core pulse, a flicker of neediness growing.

the rough groan he lets out as his hands move to roam and grasp at your waist hints at his possessiveness, fingers pressing into your skin through the thin material of your leotard.

“didn’t fuck her. didn’t want to.” he murmurs between the eager movements of his lips. “just wanted to make you jealous.”

“wh— why?” you manage breathily, taesan pressing his body against yours as your hands move to brace yourself on the barre.

“because i like you, y/n.” he smiles and huffs in disbelief at your denseness.

“i want to take you on a date— whether you let me between your legs or not.” he smirks, referring to your earlier harsh remark and making you cringe at the reference.

“i…i’d like that.” you say shyly, looking at him through your lashes. “the date— and..and the other thing too.”

“the other thing?” taesan repeats, confused as you only avoid his gaze, not further explaining— but funnily enough, your sudden bashful attitude is what makes it click in his mind.

“princess?” he experimentally calls, pleased when you automatically lift your head to look at him. his tongue unconsciously peaks out to play with his lip ring as he cockily grins, hand creeping up from your waist to pinch your chin between his fingers.

“why don’t you be a big girl and tell me what you mean?”

your nose crinkles, a pathetic attempt at defiance amidst your embarrassment. taesan’s other hand pinches the tender skin of your thigh, causing you to flinch and whimper at the slight pain as he makes a disapproving sound under his breath.

“come on, y/n. be good or i won’t give you what you want.”

“i— i want you...i meant—”

taesan does anything but go easy on you, eyes dark with mischief as he lowers his head to nibble at your neck. you squeeze your thighs together, looking for relief from the way your pussy now pulses prominently.

his hands move in tandem, one cradling along your jawline while the other brushes up and down your thigh, making you annoyed at your tights with how they keep you from feeling the cold brush of his rings against your skin.

you want them off. you want taesan to take them off. so you admit it.

“want you to fuck me. please, taesan.”

“awe,” he coos. “aren’t you a sweet one.”

you swear the tone in which he says those words turn you into goo, your hands releasing the barre to desperately hold onto his shirt.

“please.” you beg, finding yourself only wanting more praise— more of him— just anything he’s willing to give you.

taesan is able to identify the look in your eyes, staring at your lips and leaning down so slowly, making you whine at his teasing until he finally grants you mercy and kisses you again.

it’s dirtier than before: a lot more spit, moans, and movement from both of your tongues. taesan’s leg leans against the wall between your thighs, and whether it was his purpose to give you relief or not, you take the opportunity and hesitantly grind your core against his ripped jeans.

the pleasure is immediate, sending a tingle up your spine that has you arching against his chest, forgetting any shame as you begin to earnestly grind your hips against him. the thin layers covering your core paired with the roughness of taesan’s denim creates a wonderful friction, feeling how wet you’ve become in your panties.

“shit, you’re such a slut for it.” taesan remarks in genuine awe after breaking the kiss to watch the little show you’re putting on. his eyes take in every movement, from the way you rock against him to how your eyes squeeze shut and you tilt your head back.

the previous song playing on your phone has long since finished as some other tune now plays from your playlist— taesan suddenly becoming aware of it and that he has a girl whimpering and riding his thigh in the middle of a dance classroom.

he abruptly pulls away, the presence between your legs disappearing as you conjure a bratty sound from your throat.

“y/n,” taesan scolds in a harsh whisper. “did you forget where we are?”

“thought you said you’d fuck me if i was good?” you argue, flashing him a defiant expression.

“you think using my thigh to get yourself off without my permission is being good?”

your eyes widen, not expecting him to call you out on it.

looking to the floor and hearing taesan’s responding laugh at your childishness, it only makes the desire to act out against him stronger— you’re just not sure how you can do it in this moment.

“get your things. we can go to my place.” taesan offers, your stomach fluttering at the idea as you do what he says— moving to grab your phone, bag, and change out of your ballet wear.

your heart is pounding out of your chest and what’s between your legs hasn’t calmed down at all either by the time you walk out of the dance studio and sit in the passenger seat of taesan’s car.

and the drive is just as excruciating.

the man seems hellbent on teasing you by not giving you a drop of attention, keeping his eyes on the road while some rock song plays through the speakers. and you know he knows what he’s doing, how you can’t keep his eyes off of him, because the corner of his mouth is subtly turned.

you see no reason to hide it since he’s already aware, so you stare at him— once again admiring how hot his hands look wrapped around the steering wheel, the contours of his jawline and perfect side profile illuminated by the low hanging sun.

your eyes keep wandering— down, down, down until you get to his lap, where you see the large bulge tenting his pants.

your mouth waters and your hands twitch, wondering if he’s really as big as he looks and hoping you’ll get to find out by the end of tonight.

then you’re struck with an idea, recognizing the perfect opportunity you have right now— and you reach your hand out confidently to grope him over his pants.

you’re so proud at the way it makes taesan softly gasp under his breath, back stiffening at the unexpected touch. you mold your hand over his clothed dick, rubbing and gently squeezing— in all the right ways apparently, as you feel him twitch in your hands— even through the thick denim fabric.

“y/n, stop it.” taesan grits, and you hear the squeak of what you guess is his hands gripping tightly around the steering wheel. you don’t look at him until after you’ve located the head of his cock, rubbing over it with your thumb and meeting his fiery glare with a teasing bite to your lip— clearly pleased with yourself.

taesan is visibly pissed at your blatant act of defiance, but he gives you one more chance in the form of a threat.

“you’re not very patient, are you, princess? keep touching my dick like that and you won’t even get to see it out of my pants.”

your hand immediately stills— the man releasing a huff of disbelief when you pull your hand away completely to lay both of your hands on your lap, avoiding his gaze as you stare ahead.

not another word is shared, taesan enjoying the way you nervously squirm in your seat as he finally pulls into his apartment’s parking lot.

“stay.” he simply orders once he’s parked, and you’re left confused as he exits the car, only to watch him come around and open your door for you— even going as far to unbuckle your seatbelt and keep a firm hold around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs of his building. it makes butterflies flutter in your stomach yet your insides twist with nervous anticipation— because he does it all with the same stern eyes he spoke to you with as he threatened not to fuck you.

when the key is twisted and his front door lightly squeaks open— his residence somehow looks exactly how you thought; dark, moody, vintage rock posters and memorabilia hanging on the walls.

you expect him to be cheesy and press you against his door the moment it’s closed, but he doesn’t— instead walking over leisurely to his couch and sitting down, legs widely spread in an oddly commanding and powerful way.

your eyes widen at the arousing image, feeling yourself become sheepish as taesan lets his eyes roam over your form without shame.

“why do you look so shy now? you were such a disobedient little slut in the car.”

you swallow, hardly able but trying to hold eye contact with him as your face heats up in a delicious sort of shame.

taesan sighs as though he’s annoyed with your silence, patting one thigh with his hand.

“come here.”

“…h— huh?”

“don’t make me say it again, y/n.” he orders— and next thing you know, your body is moving to straddle the leg he’s directed you to sit on.

“there we go. guess princesses can take orders sometimes, hm?” he rhetorically asks, but you’re nodding your head anyway.

taesan just stares at you for a bit, admiring how pretty you look sitting and waiting for what he’ll do next, so different from the bratty attitude you had during the car ride.

then his hands rest on your bare waist, giving him easy access as you had disregarded your leotard before leaving the studio, now only wearing your cropped shirt and athletic shorts.

you’re unable to conceal the shuddered inhale you take as taesan’s hands creep upward, seeing him smirk at the sound before his hands slip under your shirt and reach your tits.

“no bra?” he teases, biting his lip as his fingers pinch at your hard nipples.

“n— no,” you struggle out, flinching lightly as taesan plays with your tits without any restraint, like your body is his toy. the contrast of his cool rings against your heated skin causes goosebumps to rise on the surface of your arms, chest pushing further into his hands. “didn’t think there was any p—..point.”

you watch as taesan shakes his head like he’s disappointed, yet he’s smiling darkly.

“dirty girl.” he remarks, giving a firmer pinched tug to your hard bud and forcing a whimper to escape from between your lips. “just take everything off then.”

you’re quicker to do what he says this time, only letting your sudden shy attitude make you hesitate for a moment before getting up from his lap to discard your clothing to his floor, keeping eye contact with taesan as best as you can manage— as he seems pleased when you do. he lets out a hungry exhale when you take off your shirt and your tits are revealed to his eyes, hand leisurely jerking himself off over his pants by the time your shorts are removed— leaving you only in your underwear.

“is that a thong, princess?” taesan asks breathily, eyes slightly widening in what you think might be surprise.

“yeah? it’s…it’s what i always wear underneath my leotard.” you confirm, somewhat confused— until taesan speaks again, hand moving up and down his dick faster.

“fuck, just— just didn’t expect such a prissy girl like you to— shit, i don’t know. you’re so hot.”

you smile— and it’s equally sexy and cute in a way that makes taesan feel like he’s going to go insane if you don’t get back on his lap right away. your fingers slip beneath the band of your panties to tug them off, but he stops you before you can.

“don’t. keep them on, wanna see you make a mess in them for me.”

a part of you— the bratty side— wants to say you already have, the dark spot from your leaking arousal evidence of it. but you don’t, the desire to listen actually winning over as you remove your hands from your hips and straddle his thigh again. you hover this time, not fully sitting down as you’re embarrassed for him to feel your wetness directly against his bare skin, which are revealed through the large holes in his jeans.

but taesan catches on immediately, tutting fondly as his hands squeeze at your hips.

“all the way.” he drawls, like he’s giving a ditzy dog a command they’re struggling to understand— and it makes your stomach flip, hurrying to do as he says.

you know he feels it, how your panties clinging to your wet pussy lips press against his thigh— and as he bites at his lip, drawing your eyes to his twinkling piercing yet again— your face burns as you’re sure he’s probably looking at the glistening residue you’ve surely left on his skin.

“good girl.” he mutters roughly, you whining in response as your hands fist into the material of his shirt.

you feel like such a slut, sitting on a man’s lap almost completely bare while he’s fully clothed, your needy pussy slowly drenching his thigh in your juices; and you sound like one too as taesan leans down to suck your nipple into his mouth.

you gasp and stutter— unsure of what you’re even trying to say as taesan chuckles around your bud, continuing to flick and roll his pierced tongue over you. the contrast of his warm appendage and the occasional brush of round metal against your skin makes you sensitive, hole clenching around nothing with every other swipe of his tongue.

“like that?” he whispers before switching to give your other breast attention.

“yes,” you quietly moan, wrapping your arms around to grip and play with the hair at the nape of his neck, subsequently pushing his face deeper into your tits.

he likes that— if his responding groan is anything to judge by, his hands pulling your hips forward and drawing a more unabashed sound from your lips at the movement.

“use me. get your little pussy off on my thigh.”

“fuck— yes,” you obey, rocking your hips and finding a rhythm.

“shit. that’s it, baby.” he coos, his hand suddenly reigning down against your ass a contrast to his soft tone as it leaves your skin tingling with heat. “just a few little touches is all it takes to get the brat out of you, huh?”

you scoff at that— though it’s interrupted by a moan when taesan flexes his thigh. shame burns your skin and his little remark makes you want to act out again, but all you can do is grind your pussy against him, gasping and going faster whenever your covered clit gets brushed over just right.

your hands that are still tangled in his hair pull to disconnect his mouth from your tits, leaning down to kiss him instead. taesan doesn’t scold you for the demanding gesture— but he does lift a hand to grasp it over your throat. he doesn’t squeeze, but the simple act makes you feel so good and dominated— and his other hand which gropes at your ass and snaps the string waistband of your thong has you falling further into delirium.

“please— please, tae. wanna cum.”

“then cum.” he says simply, and when you finally open your squeezed shut eyes, he’s staring at your desperate face with amusement— and just like that, you’re pissed.

“taesan! i can’t! not— not enough!” you whine, not even able to think about how pathetic you sound.

“you’re cumming by my thigh or not at all. this is what you get for acting like a fucking whore while i was driving.”

you whisper out a sigh, and it’s so broken and helpless as you rock your hips earnestly against him that he almost feels bad— but the bigger part of him is proud; proud in a dark and twisted way at how he’s dwindled the ballerina down to nothing but a mindless slut that’s practically crying with the need to cum.

another spank is delivered to your ass and you flinch, taesan’s hand around your neck getting a little firmer as he forces your teary eyes to look up at him— and you feel like a dog in heat as your hips never stop their efforts to bring you to release.

“please.” you beg, and taesan’s eyes turn hazey at the beautiful sound.

“come on, princess. i know you can do it for me.” he encourages— and turns out that’s all you needed.

taesan gets an up close view as your eyes roll to the back of your head, mouth dropping open in a silent cry as he feels you ruin your panties even further.

his thigh is dripping as you keep rutting your hips against him, letting out small whimpers as you work yourself through your high. taesan grants you mercy at the very end, helping you grind your hips before eventually slowing you to a stop.

then he’s picking you up and carrying you into what you can only assume is his bedroom— because in the next moment he’s laying you down on a black comforter-covered mattress and stripping off his clothes.

you’re panting, still catching your breath— but you still manage to make a somewhat teasing comment as the man’s bare chest is revealed to you.

“no tattoos?”

taesan looks up at you right after pulling his shirt over his head, black hair disheveled and brushing over his eyes as he smirks silently at you and combs it out of his face.

“i thought all emo’s had tattoos.” you tack on— and that gets him to respond.

“emo?! i’m not emo, i’m fucking punk!” he argues, somewhat offended but mostly amused as he works on removing his jeans.

“emo, punk, metalhead. it’s all the same thing.” you offhandedly say.

“…i’m about to go soft.” taesan threatens.

“kidding!” you laugh, sitting up on your elbows— and the smile is completely wiped off your face when taesan removes his boxers and his dick is finally freed, slapping against his abs.

“shit..” you whisper to yourself, watching as taesan rolls a condom on before climbing on the bed and caging you underneath him with his body.

“need me to stretch you first, princess?” taesan sweetly asks after peeling off your drenched panties, hand brushing up and down your hip soothingly.

as much as you want his sexy fingers in your cunt— you can’t wait any longer, spreading your legs for him as you flash him your best puppy-dog eyes.

“no. please just fuck me, taesanie. need you.”

“god…” taesan sighs, not making you wait anymore as he lines his head to your entrance before pushing in slowly. “oh, fuck. you’re so tight, princess.”

your chest heaves as he pushes into the hilt, your hands gripping against the sheets.

“move. fuck me hard, please. want it rough.”

you think you hear taesan mutter something about you being a dream before his pulling out till just the tip is stretching your hole— and slamming back inside.

you both turn a little animalistic and desperate, learning how the other feels and bodies being taken over by the pleasure of it. taesan’s cock stretches you out so good— he fucks you so good. the rocking of his bed frame hits against his wall, and you have a fleeting thought about if the walls are thin and if he’ll get a noise complaint— before all that is forgotten as taesan takes hold of one of your thighs and bends it against your chest.

“feel it, baby? feel how fucking bad i want you?” taesan groans between his teeth, hand squeezing tightly around your leg unconsciously— and you secretly hope it leaves mark indentations from his rings; tiny bruises from his fingers you can admire the next day.

you only can respond so his deeply uttered words with a broken moan, and taesan only fucks you harder.

“that’s it, princess got what she wanted.” he coos, eyes surprising you by how they turn a little soft— though the movement of his hips certainly never do. “always give my princess what she wants.”

you whine at that, grabbing him by the shoulders to ask for a kiss.

“fuck, you drive me crazy, y/n.” he breathes before leaning down to yet again give you what you ask for.

“but i like that about you.” he finishes between kisses.

your thighs are trembling in pleasure, sweat is lining your hairline and glistening from taesan’s chest— and you can’t take it anymore, wrapping your legs around taesan’s waist as your nails dig into his back.

“can i come, please? oh, fff— please?”

“such a good fucking slut when you got a cock in you, huh? can’t believe my princess likes it rough.”

his hand manages to squeeze between your bodies despite how tightly you cling to him, his fingers finding your clit and tracing shapes over it.

“cum, baby. get it all over my sheets.”

your body going stiff before trembling uncontrollably against him, all while your pussy clenched around his throbbing cock— it brings taesan to release as well, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow each other's cries of pleasure.

the come down is slow, taesan rolling over and pulling your body on top of his so he doesn’t accidentally fall against you in exhaustion.

your deep breaths puff warmly against his neck as he cradles you on his chest, hands swirling patterns over your back absentmindedly.

“that was…amazing.” you say around a sigh, enjoying the comforting aroma of taesan’s cologne imbedded into his sheets.

“yeah…are you done?” taesan asks, still breathy yet curious— and you raise your head to look at his face.

“you want to go again?”

“well,” taesan starts, somewhat sheepishly— yet his eyes hold that constant playful sparkle. “just thought you might be curious what it feels like to get eaten out with a piercing.”

your eyes widen, clearly shocked by not only the question but at how correct he is.

“come on, princess. you’re not slick. don’t think i didn’t notice you staring at it when we were at the bar. plus, you did say you wanted me between your legs—“

“can you stop bringing that up!?”

note ; and for anyone wondering, yes, taesan went to reader’s ballet performance. (and yes, he got jealous watching her and jaehyun dancing on stage together…part two material?🤭)

all taglists (perm/fluff/smut) are open if anyone would like to be added! age must be in bio/somewhere on pinned post if you want to be tagged in perm/smut taglist.

[damiansgoodgirll]

cm punk x fem!reader enemies to lovers? in the mood for my fav trope lol

cm punk x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️enemies to lovers, some angst, unwanted attention, touch without consent‼️

NOT SO BAD AFTER ALL

cm punk was insufferable.

everything about him got under your skin. the way he walked around like he owned the place, the smug smirk that always seemed permanently glued to his face, the way he always had something to say, especially to you. he had this aura, this energy, that made you want to roll your eyes every time you saw him.

and it wasn’t just you. everyone knew you and punk couldn’t stand each other. as if everyone could stand him either.

it had started the second he returned to the company. you were backstage, lacing up your boots, when he waltzed in like he had never left. he barely spared you a glance before muttering something like “they’re really letting just anyone into this business now, huh?”

you had clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to stay calm “and they’re really giving second chances to people who can’t play well with others, huh?”

you were tired already.

his smirk had deepened, like he enjoyed getting a reaction out of you “careful, sweetheart. you might not like what happens when you start playing with the big kids.”

from that moment on, it was war.

every interaction was a battle of quick glances and snide remarks. every glance was a challenge. he never let you breathe, always finding a way to get under your skin.

he’d critique your matches and your way of fighting.

“not bad out there. a little sloppy, but you’ll get there” he would say.

he’d scoff whenever you walked into a room, like your presence was an inconvenience.

“oh great, you again.”

and you gave it right back.

“don’t sound so excited, punk. wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle”

it got to the point where people backstage started betting on how long it would take for one of you to finally snap.

a lot bet on you first. you were the emotive one. and they didn’t know how much you could handle before you started screaming back at him.

“just give in and fight already” seth rollins had joked once, laughing as he watched you and punk bicker over god-knows-what “or, you know, just make out and get it over with.”

you had almost choked.

“yeah bad idea…” seth said “just fight then…hurt his ego, for me” he made you smile a little.

punk heard everything of course. earning a bad look from rollins too.

“she couldn’t handle me” he said as he watched you.

you had shoved him hard enough on your way out that he actually stumbled “in your dreams, old man.”

but no matter how much you hated him, you could never quite shake the feeling that he enjoyed this. like he liked having someone challenge him, push back, refuse to bow down to his bullshit.

and maybe, deep down, a part of you liked it too.

but you’d rather die than admit that.

but then everything changed.

it was after a long show. you were sore, exhausted, just trying to get back to the locker room and call it a night. the arena was quiet, most people already gone or wrapping up interviews.

smackdown had been amazing that night but your tired ass couldn’t wait to lay down for the night.

walking backstage you had just rounded a corner when you heard footsteps behind you.

before you could react, a hand grabbed your arm.

your heart stopped.

the grip was too tight, the voice behind you too familiar.

“where you off to in such a hurry?”

you froze. you knew that voice. one of the guys working backstage who had always made you uncomfortable, who always crossed the line with his comments, his stares, the way he seemed to linger whenever you were around.

you yanked your arm, but his grip tightened.

“let go” you said trying not to sound too scared.

he laughed.

“relax, sweetheart. just wanted to talk” he smirked.

your stomach turned. your pulse spiked.

you were about to shove him away, maybe even scream, when suddenly - he was gone.

ripped away from you so fast you barely processed what happened.

your breath came out in sharp, shallow bursts as you took a step back, heart pounding, adrenaline surging through your veins.

and then you saw him.

phil. standing over the guy, fists clenched, chest heaving, eyes burning with a rage you had never seen before.

the guy on the floor groaned, clutching his jaw, but phil didn’t even look at him. his eyes were on you.

“you okay?” his voice was sharp, but underneath it, there was something else, something almost gentle.

your throat felt tight. you nodded, but your hands were still shaking.

phil exhaled through his nose, stepping closer, just enough that his presence felt protective instead of suffocating.

“what the hell were you thinking?” his voice was low, tense “walking around alone like that?”

you swallowed hard “what? this is my workplace too…i-i wasn’t thinking…”

“exactly. you didn’t think” he ran a hand through his hair, jaw still tight “jesus, y/n.”

his mind was racing thinking about the things that could have happened if he got there too late or if he didn’t find you at all.

you had never seen him like this before. this was real. this was anger wrapped in concern.

he cared.

and that realization hit you harder than anything else.

“come on,” he muttered, his hand finally brushing against your arm, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if you’d let him “let’s get you out of here.”

and you let him.

because for the first time in forever, punk wasn’t the enemy. he was something else entirely. and you weren’t sure what to do with that.

and from that day on punk didn’t leave your side after that.

at first, you thought it was just because he felt responsible like he had to make sure you weren’t going to crumble or do something stupid. but it wasn’t just that.

it was in the way he lingered a little longer than necessary whenever you were around. the way he always made sure you weren’t walking alone, even if he never admitted he was doing it on purpose. the way his usual snarky comments had softened, losing some of their bite.

you tried to ignore it at first, but it was impossible. especially when he started looking at you differently.

it was after another show, a week after the incident. you were sitting in catering, picking at your food, when he sat across from you.

“you eat like a bird” he commented.

you shot him a glare “you watch me eat quite often, phil.”

he smirked, but it wasn’t his usual cocky one. this one was softer, almost fond.

you hated that it made your stomach flip.

“just making sure you don’t pass out in the ring” he shrugged.

“how sweet of you” you sarcastically remarked.

“i know” he said but then he hesitated, his fingers tapping against the table “seriously, though… you doing okay?”

your eyes met his, and for the first time, you saw it - real concern.

you swallowed, looking away, feeling shy “yeah… i’m okay.”

he didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. instead, he just nodded “good.”

you weren’t sure why that made your chest feel warm.

things kept shifting between you after that.

the tension was still there, but it was different now. it wasn’t sharp, wasn’t full of irritation or frustration. now it was something else entirely.

you caught him staring at you more often, his eyes lingering, his expression unreadable.

he found excuses to be around you, even when he had no reason to be.

and then one night, after a show, it all boiled over.

you had been walking back and forth in the locker room, the same as always, but this time, there was something charged in the air.

his presence was there. back with his remarks and sneaky comments but this time it felt right.

you shoved him lightly, rolling your eyes “god, you’re impossible.”

his smirk didn’t waver, but there was something dangerous in his eyes “you love it.”

yeah you did.

you scoffed “i tolerate it…i barely tolerate it.”

he stepped closer. too close.

“sure you do” he murmured.

your breath hitched. you should have stepped back. should have said something. but you didn’t.

because suddenly, it all made sense.

the tension, the arguing, the way you couldn’t stand him but also couldn’t stay away from him.

it wasn’t hate. it had never been hate. and when he leaned in, his lips hovering just over yours, he smirked.

“tell me to stop” he whispered.

you didn’t because you didn’t want him to.

and when his lips finally met yours, when his hands found your waist, when he pulled you against him like he had been waiting for this all along you knew.

cm punk was insufferable but maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind anymore.

[peachypine]

the roomies!!! i originally designed this ososan oc trio in full about a year ago to write on an rp blog. it's not really active rn, but i still want to talk and post about 'em, so here they are! just basic rundowns, but i'd be curious to hear which one (if any) is your fav of the three (feel free to leave it in the tags?? if u want!)

bonus transparent of them all together:

aaand some rambling under the cut about their designs

anzu:

i wanted to use orange as a character colour bc it's one that wasn't already used in the matsu rainbow, and i had a concept of a gyaru character named anzu kicking around in my head for a long time as well, so here we are. miwa from the mixer ep inspired the eyeshadow (orange rather than miwa's blue obv, to keep with her colour theme) and delinquent totoko's design inspired her ombre dyejob! i went with a blonde-to-orange look as a nod to anzu's namesake fruit (apricot).

the strands framing her face are split into 3 sections at the end (2/3 are grouped together and 1/3 flips in the other direction) which is a little nod to her being one of 3 siblings (eldest), as well as the "三" character used in her surname (mikado) meaning 3. the rest of her hairstyle is just because i thought it looked cute, though.

ososan's style is more simplified, but i wanted to convey makeup that was a little bold, but cute (long false lashes, eyeshadow, & and a soft pink or nude glossy lip). clothing-wise, she mixes and matches a few different substyles (agejo and onee are prominent, with some ane, tsuyome, and general old school gal influences as well?), with a particular fondness for animal prints, esp. tiger print. (that said, orange tiger print doesn't seem all that common in gyaru clothes, so in-universe i like to think that the top pictured above was originally a black-and-white zebra(?) stripe print she thrifted and dyed at home--close enough!)

her nails day to day are usually medium length since she has a lot of hobbies that involve her hands and anything longer makes those things a bit more cumbersome. sometimes they're decoden/bedazzled, sometimes they're just painted a cute colour/pattern, depends on the day! and i think she opts for press-ons over extensions for longer nails, since it's cheaper.

ran:

i'm just a bitch who loves purple, that's the reason for this one. i think the hime cut with shorter bangs is nice because you can showcase the eyebrows (i think eyebrows can really elevate a character design so i gave all 3 their own brow shape) without worrying about the lines for the eyebrows and bangs intersecting in an annoying way when you draw it. i like shorter, slightly sharp eyebrows like these because they're easy to draw, lol. i think they're usually furrowed like she's displeased with something, but that may just be her resting face. i also thought this blunter, sharper-looking cut (bold, standoffish) was a fun contrast to anzu's flippy half-updo (bright, bouncy) and yuzu's short, wavy hair (languid, relaxed).

5 piercings on each ear (2 spiked helix & 3 lobe) = 5 siblings including ran (4 older brothers). the other reason for this number of piercings was that her namesake flower (orchid) had--i thought--5 petals, but as it turns out i'm a fool, it's actually 3 petals (including the lip) and 3 sepals??? ah, well.

clothing-wise, influences from various punk/vkei styles alongside some rokku gyaru. (maybe anzu introduced her to this one?) this brash style is the total inverse of how she was expected to dress growing up. (when she and anzu first met, she was an OL with no piercings, undyed hair, and positively miserable, but that was a number of years ago now.) i'm really not reinventing the wheel with "small and angry", but y'know, we have fun here.

yuzu:

is teal distinct enough from blue to count as its own colour? i think so. for yuzu, i really loved the concept of a deadpan-looking character who is very much not the straightman, who in fact wants very badly to be the funnyman 99% of the time. that kind of straight-faced but silly comedic character is always really fun to me.

half-lidded/heavy-lidded eyes paired with thick brows are always a winner to me fsr, and i wanted to give her a more "handsome" looking face with a bit more of a defined jaw than you typically see on women in ososan. as a treat. i wanted her to look a bit like a mysterious prettyboy, but she's not actually mysterious, she's just a space cadet. (and very straightforward about her thoughts and feelings, saying them with little fuss or thought.) expectation vs reality, people deciding what you're like based on their own perception vs what you're actually like, etc. etc.

i don't have anything deep to say about her hairstyle, but maybe that's how yuzu would like it, what you see is what you get. (again, eyebrows vs hair... let that eyebrow scar that i gave her for no reason shine.) as for clothing, she prefers things that are easy to move around in, so her style is the most "matsuno"-like (t-shirts, hoodies, basketball shorts, sweats, etc.). in particular, she likes shirts with phrases, usually in english, that are funny or almost make sense but not quite ("for background visual gags" and "for the english speakers in the audience").

[christopherisfoive]

Cold Burn (Chapter 4)

!idol reader x Seungmin; enemies to lovers

Word Count: (It literally won't let me move it from here lol)

Note: I wrote this super late last night and tried to edit my best but sorry if there are any mistakes, going back to drafting on docs because tumblr hates me. It has been a long week. Thank you for reading, I appreciate it <3 (it will eventually make sense i promise)

Masterlist

The city was alive with the midday rush, bustling streets and flashing signs lining every corner. It should’ve felt freeing after being cooped up in venues and hotels for the past few weeks, but even with the fresh air, I still felt off.

I adjusted my mask, letting my hood cast a shadow over my face as I followed behind my group.

It was supposed to be a day off.

But my mind was still playing back every mistake I’d made on stage during the tour.

I should have been enjoying this break. But instead, I was still holding onto every mistake, every moment that made me feel like I was losing control.

And then, like perfectly timed chaos, I heard it—the sound of cameras clicking.

Whispers turned into excited calls.

I instinctively pulled my hood lower, keeping my face neutral as the others started interacting.

A group of fans and paparazzi had spotted us, and before I could even process it, they were already approaching fast.

"Oh my god, it’s Stray Kids and Stellar!" one girl squealed, phone already out.

The energy shifted immediately.

Han, Hyunjin, and Leah engaged easily, smiling and waving. Bang Chan answered a few quick questions, even as security started stepping in to maintain a barrier.

Then came the actual questions.

"Y/N! Can you talk about your solo stage? People said it didn’t seem like your usual energy!"

"Is it true you don’t like performing live?"

"Are you okay? You seemed out of sync in the last show!"

I ignored them.

I always ignored them.

Instead, I kept walking, keeping my gaze forward, shoulders tense under my hoodie.

That was all it took to shift the crowd’s mood.

People started stepping in front of me, blocking my path, shoving phones and cameras in my direction.

The excitement turned to pushy persistence.

"Why won’t you say anything?"

"Y/N, just one word for your fans?"

I clenched my jaw and sidestepped them, but it was too late.

Someone moved in too close.

Before I could react, a fan—a girl, maybe late teens, wearing a hoodie with our group’s name on it—stepped right into my space.

"Why do you always ignore us?" Her voice was sharp, demanding.

I took a step back, my pulse spiking. Too close. Way too close.

She didn't stop. "Other idols talk to their fans. What’s your problem?"

Before I could respond—before I could even process how uncomfortable I felt—she lifted her phone closer to my face, snapping a photo at point-blank range.

I barely kept my composure, my breath hitching as I turned away sharply.

Security finally stepped in, blocking her as one of our managers started ushering us forward.

But the damage was already done.

I could already hear the murmurs.

"What’s wrong with her?"

"So rude."

"Seungmin would never act like that."

And of course—there he was.

I glanced up just in time to see him smiling effortlessly, answering questions, personally greeting every fan that came up to him.

Easy. Natural. Everything I wasn’t.

I could already feel his judgment from across the crowd.

To him, I probably looked like the worst kind of idol.

What he didn’t know was that I had my reasons.

And I wasn’t about to explain myself to him.

The second we finally got away from the crowd, I could feel the weight of the encounter still pressing on my chest. My steps were quick, my head down, but I could still hear the lingering whispers, the judgment heavy in the air.

I wasn’t sure if it was my own overthinking or if they were actually talking about me, but it didn’t matter.

The damage was already done.

As we turned the corner onto a quieter street, I felt someone fall into step beside me.

I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

"You could at least pretend to care."

I exhaled sharply, barely sparing Seungmin a glance before looking ahead again. "Not in the mood, Seungmin."

"Oh, I know," he said, voice casual but laced with something sharp. "You’re never in the mood, right?"

I clenched my jaw. "Drop it."

But of course, he didn’t.

"Seriously, what’s your deal?" He scoffed. "You act like it’s such a burden to interact with people who support you. The rest of us can handle it just fine. Why is it so hard for you?"

That did it.

I stopped walking, turning to him with narrowed eyes. "You have no idea what you’re talking about."

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. "Don’t I?"

I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head. "Not everything is as easy as you make it seem, Seungmin."

"No," he agreed, "but being decent to the people who made your career possible isn’t that hard."

The words hit me harder than I expected.

I had spent years learning how to brush off the criticism, how to let things roll off my back.

But for some reason, hearing it from him—someone who already thought the worst of me—made my blood boil.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "You don’t get to judge me."

"Then give me a reason not to."

The challenge was clear in his expression, in the way he refused to look away first.

I had so much I wanted to say.

But I knew it wouldn’t matter.

Not yet.

So instead, I just exhaled sharply and turned away, continuing forward.

"That’s what I thought," Seungmin muttered behind me, before falling back into step with the others.

I didn’t look back.

But the anger sat heavy in my chest, burning quietly.

-

The hotel lobby was quiet, save for the occasional footsteps of staff moving around and the faint sound of music playing from the lounge area. Most of the others had already gone up to their rooms or found their own ways to unwind after the long day.

I had planned to do the same.

Instead, I found myself sitting in the corner of the lobby, scrolling through my phone, letting the harsh glow of the screen burn into my eyes.

I knew I should’ve put it away.

I knew I shouldn’t have been reading any of this.

But my fingers kept moving, my screen lighting up with headlines, forum posts, and brutal opinions dissecting everything about me.

"Y/N is proof that visuals matter more than talent in the industry."

"Best 4th Gen Dancer my ass."

"She’s not even the best in her group—why does she get so much attention?"

"I heard she got her spot because of connections, not skill. Makes sense why she’s so stiff on stage."

"You really think she made it this far just by ‘working hard’? LMAO, be serious."

My stomach twisted, and I could feel my pulse in my fingertips.

The accusations weren’t new—I had heard whispers like this for years. But somehow, seeing it laid out so blatantly, with thousands of likes and shares, made it feel heavier.

Worse.

Like no matter what I did, no matter how much effort I put in, there were still people who would never respect me.

I barely noticed when someone sat down in the chair across from me, but I did feel the weight of their stare.

"You still look at that stuff?"

I flinched slightly, my thumb freezing mid-scroll.

I glanced up to see Jeongin, leaning back in the chair across from me, arms crossed.

I quickly locked my phone, shoving it onto the table. "It’s nothing."

"Didn’t look like nothing."

His voice wasn’t accusing, just matter-of-fact.

I sighed, running a hand over my face. "Just people talking. Same as always."

Jeongin didn’t respond right away. He just sat there, watching me like he was waiting for me to be honest.

After a beat, he exhaled, shaking his head. "You know none of that’s real, right?"

I let out a small, dry laugh. "Yeah, sure."

Jeongin frowned, his usual playfulness gone. "Y/N."

I forced myself to meet his eyes, but my chest felt tight.

I didn’t want to talk about this. Not now.

So I shrugged. "It’s fine. Doesn’t matter."

Jeongin studied me for a second longer before pushing off the chair, leaning forward to grab my phone.

Without asking, he flipped it face-down on the table.

"Then stop looking."

His tone was soft but firm. A simple statement, not a suggestion.

I swallowed, my fingers twitching slightly.

Jeongin sighed, his expression less teasing than usual, more serious. "Don’t let them win, Y/N."

And with that, he stood up, walking off toward the elevators.

I sat there for a moment, staring at my phone, my reflection faint in the dark screen.

I should’ve let it go.

But the words were still burned into my mind.

And I wasn’t sure if I knew how.

-

The burn in my throat started a few nights ago. Subtle at first, just a scratch that I figured would go away with enough water and rest.

Except, there was no rest.

Not when we were on back-to-back schedules, traveling city to city, rehearsing between shows, barely enough time to breathe, let alone recover.

I pushed through like always.

Now, standing in the middle of the rehearsal room, sweat clinging to my skin, I felt off.

The usual ache from training felt heavier today, my limbs sluggish, my breath coming shorter than it should have.

I rolled my shoulders back, ignoring the way my vision blurred for half a second.

I was fine.

Across the room, Jeongin watched me.

I caught the way his brows furrowed slightly, the way his gaze lingered as I moved through the choreography.

I knew that look.

I ignored it.

"Let’s go again," Chan called out, already stepping forward to reset the formation.

I exhaled sharply, steadying my stance, locking my body into position as the music cued up again.

But the moment I took my first step, I felt it.

The slight dip in my balance, the way my head felt lighter than it should have.

I corrected it immediately, moving into the next beat as if nothing had happened.

But Jeongin saw.

And so did Seungmin.

I felt his gaze before I even turned his way, a glance quick enough to catch the way his expression flickered—something almost unreadable flashing across his face.

For once, he didn’t say anything.

I wasn’t sure if it was the heat of the room or my own body turning against me, but every time we restarted the routine, my chest felt tighter.

I took a deep breath, forcing air into my lungs, willing my body to cooperate.

I couldn’t stop now.

Not when I had spent the last few weeks feeling like I was slipping. Not when people were already questioning whether I deserved to be here.

I needed them to see me succeed.

So I kept going.

Even when my legs felt heavier than they should have.

Even when my head felt like it was filled with static.

Even when I knew—knew—I was moving on sheer willpower alone.

I felt the weight of Jeongin’s stare first.

He wasn’t even being subtle about it anymore—I could see him watching between reps, his usual easy-going expression replaced with something more cautious.

But he didn’t say anything.

Neither did Seungmin.

I caught his gaze in the mirror, just for a second.

He was standing off to the side, arms crossed, eyes narrowed just slightly.

For once, there was no smirk. No sharp remarks.

Just quiet observation.

I ignored them both.

I had to.

The music started again, the pounding bass vibrating through my body, rattling in my chest.

I moved on instinct, letting my muscle memory carry me through—each step, each transition, each sharp hit of the beat.

But something was off.

I felt it before I saw it.

The moment my foot landed wrong, I knew. The angle was off, the weight uneven. My body moved a fraction of a second behind my mind, and suddenly—

I was out of sync.

Just for half a beat.

But in this world, half a beat was everything.

I immediately corrected, snapping into place, but the mistake had already happened. I could feel the eyes on me.

Someone spoke. "Y/N, what was that?"

I blinked, chest rising and falling faster than it should’ve been.

My mind scrambled for a response, but the words weren’t there.

I wasn’t fully there.

"I—" My voice sounded strange, distant, like it belonged to someone else.

Across from me, Ari’s gaze sharpened.

She saw it.

But she didn’t get the chance to say anything.

I sucked in a breath, forcing my posture straight, willing my body to hold itself together.

"Let’s go again," I said quickly, pretending nothing happened.

I needed to shake this off.

I needed them to see me succeed.

Even if my body had other plans.

The music thundered through the speakers, vibrating through the stage beneath my feet.

I kept moving. Kept pushing.

Every step felt heavier, like my limbs were fighting against me. My skin was damp with sweat, but I felt cold.

It was getting harder to breathe.

The stage lights burned hot, casting everything in a hazy glow. The air felt thick, each inhale tighter than the last.

And then—

The misstep.

The dizziness.

The moment my body finally gave out beneath me.

The floor rushed toward me, the sharp gasp of someone nearby cutting through the ringing in my ears.

The music stopped.

Someone called my name.

I barely heard them before everything faded to black.

The moment my body hit the stage, everything exploded into chaos.

The music cut off instantly.

Footsteps—rushed, frantic—pounded against the stage floor as voices overlapped in panic.

"Y/N!"

"Someone get the staff!"

I felt hands on me—someone kneeling beside me, another hand brushing my hair back, the fabric of my sweat-soaked clothes sticking to my skin.

I was aware of it all, but everything felt distant. Like I was watching it happen from the outside, my limbs too heavy to respond.

"Is she breathing okay?" Ari’s voice was the sharpest, her usual calm cracked with pure fear.

"She’s burning up," Leah’s voice trembled. "We need to get her offstage—now."

Someone lifted me slightly, supporting my upper body. The movement made my stomach turn, a weak groan escaping before I could stop it.

"She’s conscious," Jeongin said quickly, relief barely masking the tension in his voice.

A shaky breath. My lips parted, but no words came out.

Through the haze, I caught a glimpse of Seungmin standing a few steps away.

Frozen.

For the first time since this tour started, he looked…unsure. His usual sharp eyes were wide, his lips pressed into a thin line as if he wasn’t sure what to say.

But I couldn’t focus on him.

Because my head was spinning, my skin was on fire, and the weight of every mistake, every moment I ignored my body’s warning signs, had finally come crashing down.

And now?

I wasn’t in control anymore.

The coolness of the backstage area barely helped with the heat radiating off my skin.

I felt cold and hot at the same time, my limbs too heavy, my breathing uneven.

Voices blurred together.

"Her temperature is high."

"She needs fluids—has she eaten today?"

"She’s completely burned out."

I tried to speak to tell them I was fine, but my throat felt raw. The most I could manage was a weak, halfhearted shake of my head.

"Don’t try to talk," Ari’s voice was there, close, softer than before. "They’re just checking your vitals."

I swallowed, eyes flickering open.

The faces above me were blurry, shifting in and out of focus. A few staff members kneeled beside me, pressing a cool cloth to my forehead, speaking in hushed tones.

Ari, Leah, Jeongin, and Lee Know were still there.

Lee Know stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the scene with an unreadable expression.

I tried to sit up, but the second I moved, my head spun.

A sharp inhale.

Lee Know was faster than Ari this time, pressing a hand to my shoulder and easily keeping me down.

"Not happening," he muttered. "Just rest, okay?"

Leah crossed her arms, clearly annoyed. "How long have you been feeling like this?"

I didn’t answer.

Because I knew the truth would only piss them off more.

Before I could gather enough strength to argue, the managers arrived.

Their voices were firm, no room for negotiation.

"She’s not performing tonight."

The words hit like a slap, and suddenly, the heaviness in my body wasn’t just from being sick.

I forced myself to sit up, ignoring the pounding in my head as I looked between them. "No. I can still do it."

"Y/N," Leah warned, eyes flashing with frustration.

But I wasn’t listening.

I turned to the managers again, pushing past the ache in my limbs. "I’ll be fine by showtime. I just need—"

"You just collapsed on stage," Ari cut in, arms crossed. "There’s no debate. You’re sitting this one out."

No.

No, no, no.

I had spent weeks proving myself, clawing my way through every performance, every mistake, every doubt.

I wasn’t losing my spot now.

"I can do this," I tried again, my voice hoarse. "I just—"

"Oh!" A voice interrupted, and I didn’t have to look to know who it belonged to.

Mira.

She strolled into view, faux concern plastered all over her face, hands clasped in front of her. "If she can’t go on, I can step in."

The air shifted.

For a split second, nobody spoke.

Then, one of the managers nodded. "That could work. You already know the choreo."

My stomach twisted violently.

Mira turned to me, her smile oh-so sweet, but her eyes telling an entirely different story.

"Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll take good care of your part."

I felt numb.

The room was still spinning, but the real sickness sat in my chest.

I should have fought back. I should have said something.

But the moment Mira tilted her head, smiling like she had won, everything inside me just… shut off.

I went blank.

Ari’s head snapped toward Mira, eyes narrowing. "You’re really volunteering that fast, huh?"

Mira turned to her, expression perfectly innocent. "What do you mean? Someone has to do it."

Ari’s lips pressed together, but she didn’t buy it. I could see the irritation tighten her jaw, the way her hands fisted at her sides.

She wasn’t the only one.

Lee Know, who had been mostly quiet until now, finally spoke.

"You sure you can handle it?" His voice was flat, unreadable, but there was something pointed underneath.

Mira smiled wider. "I mean, it’s not that complicated, right?"

Ari let out a sharp breath, like she was physically stopping herself from saying something she’d regret.

Lee Know just stared at Mira for a long moment.

Then, slowly, he turned to me.

"Y/N."

I blinked, but I couldn’t force words out.

What was I supposed to say?

Mira had already taken my spot.

Nothing I said would change it now.

So I just looked away.

-

The moment Mira stepped away from me, I could already hear her faking concern as she walked over to the others.

"Guys, change of plans," she said, voice just loud enough for me to hear from where I sat. "Y/N isn’t performing tonight, so I’ll be taking her place."

The reaction was immediate.

Kat’s face twisted in confusion. "Wait, what? Since when?"

Mira sighed dramatically, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Since about five minutes ago," she said. "The managers agreed, and I already know the choreo, so it just makes sense."

Hyunjin’s eyes flickered toward me, his concern obvious. "And Y/N’s okay with this?"

Mira didn’t even hesitate. "Well, she didn’t argue."

Ari scoffed. "Yeah, because she’s half-conscious."

The room tensed.

Mira only shrugged, smiling just a little. "Either way, we should start getting ready."

Lee Know, who had been watching the whole thing in silence, finally spoke. "Just don’t mess it up." His tone was neutral, but his expression wasn’t.

Mira’s smile didn’t falter. "Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got this."

And with that, she turned away, ready to steal the show.

I barely registered the conversation.

I barely felt anything at all.

Because the second they all turned away, the second I was left sitting backstage, my chest tightened in a way I couldn’t control.

I blinked up at the ceiling, forcing back the burning in my throat.

I had lost my spot.

After everything I had fought for—**after every moment I forced myself to push through, to prove I was worth something—**I was still replaceable.

And the worst part?

Mira was making sure I knew it.

My hands curled into fists, nails pressing into my palms. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the feeling of failure from swallowing me whole.

I had fought so hard.

And it still wasn’t enough.

-

By the time the show started, I was watching from the wings, still too weak to stand on my own.

The lights hit the stage, the energy buzzing through the arena as Stellar performed without me.

And then, it happened.

Mira did my move.

Not just any move—my signature move. The one I had created, the one I had made my own.

The audience cheered like nothing was wrong.

Mira beamed.

And I?

I felt sick for a whole new reason.

The energy backstage was still buzzing, staff members congratulating each other, the usual post-show adrenaline filling the space.

But I wasn’t part of it.

I sat off to the side, still too weak to stand properly, watching as everyone came back from the stage.

And Mira?

She made a beeline toward me.

She tilted her head, still in full makeup and costume, wiping sweat off her brow like she had just saved the whole show.

And then she smiled.

"That was fun," she said sweetly. "I mean, I wouldn’t want to replace you permanently or anything, but… I did fit in pretty well, don’t you think?"

She let the words sink in, let them cut.

Then, with a final smirk, she turned and walked off.

And I sat there, feeling like I had lost everything.

I needed to get out of here.

The post-show energy, the voices, the flashing lights from the screens playing encore footage—it was too much.

I pushed myself up, ignoring the way my legs wobbled beneath me.

Leah and Ari noticed immediately, their heads snapping in my direction, but I didn’t give them time to stop me.

I kept my head down and moved, weaving past staff and dancers, making my way toward the private restroom backstage.

My hands were trembling by the time I pushed the door open.

The second it closed behind me, the weight I had been holding in collapsed all at once.

I braced myself against the sink, sucking in sharp, uneven breaths.

Everything hit me at once.

The exhaustion.

The humiliation.

The sharp, suffocating feeling of being replaced so easily.

A ragged breath tore from my throat, and I gripped the edges of the sink, my vision blurring as my chest heaved.

I couldn’t do this.

I couldn’t—

A soft knock at the door made me freeze.

My stomach twisted.

For a second, I thought it was Leah or Ari coming to check on me.

But then—

"Y/N."

I went rigid.

Because that wasn’t Leah.

Or Ari.

Or anyone I would’ve expected.

It was Seungmin.

I gripped the sink harder, willing my breaths to even out, willing myself to stay silent.

Maybe if I didn’t answer, he’d take the hint and leave.

Seconds passed.

Then—

"I know you’re in there."

His voice was calm. Not sharp, not teasing—just even.

I clenched my jaw, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Red-rimmed eyes. Flushed skin. The complete opposite of the image I was supposed to keep up.

I swallowed back the lump in my throat.

Silence.

Maybe he’d take that as an answer.

Then he spoke again.

"So that’s it?" A slight shift in his tone, like he was testing the waters. "You’re just gonna sit in there and pretend nothing happened?"

My fingers twitched against the cool porcelain.

That’s exactly what I was going to do.

Pretend this wasn’t happening.

Pretend I wasn’t falling apart.

Another pause.

Then, softer this time—"You don’t have to pretend with me."

Something in my chest tensed.

I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the sink even harder.

Why was he still standing there?

And more importantly—why did it sound like he actually meant that?

A long beat of silence stretched between us.

I refused to move. Refused to speak.

But Seungmin wasn’t leaving.

Instead, he let out a slow exhale, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, less guarded.

"You know… I thought you were stronger than this."

Something in me flinched.

His tone wasn’t mocking, wasn’t sharp—just honest. And that somehow made it worse.

He shifted outside the door, and I could almost picture him standing there, arms crossed, debating what to say next.

"All this time, you’ve acted like nothing gets to you. Like you don’t care what people say." A pause. "But you do, don’t you?"

I sucked in a quiet breath, my grip on the sink tightening.

"You care too much."

Another pause.

Then—"That’s why you don’t fight back."

My stomach twisted.

Because I hated how close to the truth that was.

I stared down at my reflection on the floor, my own exhausted eyes staring back at me.

And still, I didn’t say a word.

Seungmin shifted again, like he was about to say more—then stopped himself.

A beat of silence.

Then, his voice dropped to almost a murmur.

"You know, you’re not the only one who’s ever felt like this."

I blinked.

My breath hitched just slightly, but I caught it before it could be heard.

I didn’t know what I was expecting him to say, but… not that.

Something in his voice was different now.

Less sharp.

Less detached.

More like he actually… understood.

I swallowed, my chest tightening with something I couldn’t place.

And yet—I still said nothing.

I heard him shift once more, but this time, he hesitated.

Then, after one last pause—I heard footsteps.

He was leaving.

But somehow, it didn’t feel like an ending.

It felt like the beginning of something I wasn’t ready to face.

The room was quiet again.

No more footsteps.

No more words.

Just me.

I stayed where I was, back pressed against the cool tiles, knees pulled up to my chest.

My breathing had finally evened out, but my mind was far from calm.

Seungmin’s voice still echoed in my head.

"You know… I thought you were stronger than this."

"That’s why you don’t fight back."

"You care too much."

I wanted to ignore it. Pretend like none of this happened.

But I couldn’t.

Because somehow, for the first time since this tour started, Seungmin didn’t sound like my enemy.

And that thought alone terrified me.

I exhaled, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, just thinking.

Minutes passed—maybe longer.

Eventually, my legs felt steady enough to move.

I pushed myself up, straightened my hoodie, and finally unlocked the door.

The hallway was empty now.

No one waiting.

No one lingering.

And yet, as I stepped out, the weight of what just happened still clung to me.

The venue had mostly cleared out by now—staff moving equipment, dancers heading back to their dressing rooms, the energy finally settling after the chaos of the night.

Seungmin was off to the side, stretching out his shoulders, his expression unreadable.

Jeongin had been watching him for a while.

And he was done staying quiet.

He stepped up beside him, arms crossed. "I know what you’re doing."

Seungmin barely glanced at him. "What are you talking about?"

Jeongin let out a sharp exhale through his nose, shaking his head. "You and Mira. You’ve been messing with her this whole time."

That got Seungmin’s attention.

His expression barely shifted, but Jeongin knew him too well to miss the way his jaw tensed.

Still, he played it cool. "You sound paranoid."

Jeongin huffed, not buying it for a second.

"You think I didn’t notice?" He tilted his head. "The mic feedback. The ‘accidental’ positioning mistakes. Mira shifting in formations just enough to throw Y/N off. You might think you're being slick, but I see it."

Seungmin’s hands curled into loose fists.

But Jeongin wasn’t finished.

"And tonight?" His voice lowered. "You let Mira take her spot. You watched her steal Y/N’s move. And you didn’t say a thing."

Seungmin’s eyes flickered, but he kept his face carefully blank.

Jeongin took a step closer. "Tell me this, hyung." His voice hardened. "At what point does it stop being funny?"

Silence.

For a moment, Seungmin didn’t respond.

Then—"It was never funny."

Jeongin’s brows furrowed. "Then why?"

Seungmin exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck, but he didn’t answer.

Because maybe—for the first time since this started—he wasn’t sure anymore.

Why had he gone along with Mira’s games?

At first, it was easy. It was just harmless frustration, just a way to get under Y/N’s skin—because she annoyed him, right?

That’s what he told himself.

But now?

After seeing her collapse on stage, after watching her lose everything she worked for while Mira stole her place without hesitation?

It didn’t feel like a game anymore.

And suddenly, he wasn’t so sure who the real problem was.

Taglist: @victoriaaf @mirophobic @minhosprettywife @peskybirdysya @littlewolfieposts

[staybabblingbaby]

Project: Stack The Deck CH. 1 (a3d1)

-

Concept: Reader is a long-time trainee at JYP Entertainment, on the verge of being dropped completely due to her age. In her first stroke of luck in ages, she's presented with an opportunity: JYPE is producing a brand new type of audition show - 9 lucky trainees will be 'interning' with 6 of JYPE's active groups for a year in hopes of forming the first ever mixed gender AND mixed subgender group in k-pop. The catch? The trainees are only interning with their exact opposite groups, in an effort to appease ongoing protests.

Or - Babble gives in and writes Omegaverse. But this time, there's ~lore~

-

Word Count: 1,893

Notes: I started this instead of working on SG I'm so sorry ^^;; My brain just doesn't wanna take anything serious rn I've been having a Time lmao I have, perhaps, thought about an inordinate amount of lore for this ^^;; It's ok I just tried to apply logic to Omegaverse nbd. I never liked the 'inner wolf' rhetoric so this is my attempt to fix that while keeping the instinct drivel i adore lol. While also keeping a more human level of 'intinct'. Also this isn't very edited, so keep that in mind. Also also this is super slow-burn and focused on pack-bonds first, so while we may get to romance and maybe smut eventually, it won't be for a really very long time Heavily inspired by To The 9th Degree by azaluvx7 on Ao3.

Warnings: Mention of house-fire, discussion of medical misinformation that leads to protests (also mentioned)

-

Masterlist | Next Part

Sitting across from the director is always a nerve wracking experience, no matter how many times I’ve experienced it.

Kim Jae-Hwa was a severe omegan woman with dark hair and a fair complexion. As the director of Training and Development at JYPE she held the future of all of JYPE’s unrealized talent in her hands.

That did, of course, include my own.

Having been picked up and dropped from several line-ups over the years, none of those groups having come to fruition at all, she was someone I’d seen probably more than I’d have liked to. Seeing her face always filled me with a potent mixture of hope and dread, something she was uniquely positioned to tip the scales of.

Today we were, oddly enough, sat in the company’s cafeteria instead of the director’s office or the conference room she favored. Seeing as how the last time I'd been in one of those rooms it’d been to have a very honest and pragmatic conversation with several of the older trainees about our future within the company and our options outside of it, I couldn’t be mad at the change of scenery.

Several of my classes had become one-on-one tutoring sessions after that conversation.

So yeah, sitting in front of her was always more than enough to make you break out into a cold sweat and send my scent spiking along with my thundering heartbeat beneath carefully-applied scent blockers, no matter how nice she was.

And she was nice, pushing a steaming coffee across the table to me, warm smile gentling her features. She cared about the trainees here, truly. It’s why she organized meeting like the one that chased away a majority of your remaining friends in the first place. Always looking out for us, whether we liked it or not.

“I heard you’ve been skipping a few classes lately, that’s not like you.” She says after a moment, allowing me to sip the warm comfort of the familiar beverage before her interrogation.

“Ah,” I flinch a bit, curling into myself, “I had to get another job. My apartment burned down recently, so it’s just been a bit hard to make everything work out.”

She knows this already, of course. All of my trainers were aware, as well as the manager who oversaw the older trainees. Well, older trainee, now, really. Reports about the trainees crossed her desk regularly, and since I was the only one in my class right now there weren’t many for my details to get lost between.

As expected, she just nods along, tilting her head at me, not surprised in the least.

“Where are you staying now, may I ask?”

I shrink further into myself at her query, embarrassment flooding me. “Just a hotel right now, director.” I admit, head low, “The building wasn’t really salvageable, and I haven’t been able to find anything I can afford near enough to the company yet.”

Jae-Hwa just nods her elegant head, not rendering judgment. In fact, as I glance up at the older woman, there’s something almost calculating in her eyes.

“Why didn’t you apply for the trainee dorms? It sounds like you qualify for them.”

Squirming uncomfortably in my seat, I cast around for a reasonable answer. It wasn’t like I could tell her that I was intimidated by a bunch of teenagers. I mean, in turn they were also intimidated by my seniority and sway with the more sympathetic trainers, but, well. A few bad apples could spoil a bunch, and I’d always been an easy target for bullies.

Even if they couldn’t hurt me physically or professionally, words often had a way of getting under skin. Especially from people I’d rather be able to mentor and pamper.

“The kids get a bit uncomfortable with me already,” I settle on, letting my shoulders shrug sheepishly, body pulled along by the half-truth, “I don’t want to make it worse by intruding on their space.”

Jae-Hwa simply hums, considering me. She probably knew this too, honestly. The truth of it, even. There wasn’t much that went on in the practice rooms that she didn’t know about.

There also wasn’t much she could do if I didn’t stand up for myself, so I just offer her a strained smile, silently begging for this conversation to move forward.

Stars above, if this was a new way of gently encouraging me to pursue other career paths it might have been the most effective one yet. Fleeing the building sounded great right about now.

“Alright, I won’t push it, you know very well what resources we offer by now. Better than some of my staff even, I’d bet.” She says it in a lighthearted tone, clearly only meant to tease, but hot shame rips through me again anyways.

Seven years was a long time to train, and while it did come with some perks (like knowing the training program than some of the managers), it still meant that I hadn’t been good enough to debut. That despite the extra experience and training, I still wasn’t good enough.

“I actually had something of a proposal for you,” the director continues, unbothered by my bowed head, “You may not have heard since you’ve been out lately, but the board has proposed a project in hopes of appeasing those protests that have been happening.”

I grimace at the mention of the ongoing protests, the loud chanting of the crowd in front of the building ringing in my ears at just the mention of them.

“The ones about co-ed groups?” I clarify, as if there are any others.

She shares a tight-lipped commiserating smile with me and nods, “Yes, those protests,” she sighs.

Honestly, the whole movement was stupid, in your opinion. On the surface it was progressive, inclusive even. After all, encouraging more co-ed groups could lead to a great many positive changes for idols. Less scrutiny on interactions between male and female idols, or alphas and omegas. More leeway with the very intense media attention, a chance to be more care-free when hanging out with their friends.

Hell, it could even be good for society at large, showing progressive ideals in a very visible way. That is, if the goal of the movement had been so pure or noble.

No, the current rhetoric was an archaic bunch of bologna ripped from an out of context statistic from a very old and very biased study about Pack dynamics and their impact on one’s health.

To brush past the bullshit and flowery words of concern, they believed that a pack needed at least one person of every sub-gender present to keep a balance of hormones and instincts and remain healthy.

Never mind that the same study claimed that omegas needed to be locked up in their dens and nests like birds in a cage or that betas were only really good for filling in negative space despite their very intensively studied and very important roles in a pack.

Unfortunately, despite making about as much sense as a flat-earther, one viral post had made it into k-pop circles and triggered a cascade of hysterically ‘worried’ fans, who really just wanted a chance to join the packs of their favorite celebrities.

It was common knowledge that many idol groups ended up as pack, especially those that enjoyed success. JYPE as a company very specifically encouraged this, boasting an incredible matchmaking record with 10 out of 11 of groups they’d tried this with becoming pack, a further 3 of those packs even being romantic.

The issue was that, in direct contrast with this nonsensical ideal, most idol groups comprised themselves of only one primary and two sub genders, due to the marketability and fanservice of it all. An alpha group would only have alphas and betas, and vice versa for omega groups.

Hence the very loud protests outside the building, mostly comprised of delusional fans baying for a chance to meet their idols for said idol’s ‘health’.

Normally the company wouldn’t cave to something like this, simply issuing statements of good health or waiting for it to blow over, but even I had heard of the large-scale boycotts and blackouts among various fandoms. Loss of profit or image was something the company could not, unfortunately, ignore.

Still, I frown at the director.

“Is it really a good idea to give into them?” I ask, worried, “Won’t they just get bolder, then?”

The director grimaces in agreement, but shrugs her shoulders, “Your guess is as good as mine, kid. In the end, it’s up to the investors.”

I give my own grimace at this. Despite actively wanting and trying to participate in the industry, I was old enough for the rose-tinted glasses to have come off. I could be disgusted by how the industry operated while still wanting to be a part of it. I’m talented that way.

“Just hear me out about it before we start picking it apart,” Jae-Hwa gently pleads, “This could be a good opportunity for you.” something heavy and sorrowful clouds her eyes, her voice lowering as she admits, “This could be the last opportunity I can get for you.”

My heart lodges in my throat at her words, nausea swirling in my gut.

Jae-Hwa really did care for her trainees. A bit too much, even. Enough to be blunt with us about our chances to debut. It had been a few years since she’d looked at me with bright eyes and a cheerful, “This could be it! You’ve got the talent, kid, we’ve just gotta show it to the world!”

She might take the older trainees aside to gently break their hearts, but she never forced them out. I was just the last one stupid enough to stay.

“You’re 23 this year, y/n.” She says gently, grimly, softly taking my hands into hers across the table, “I can’t protect you forever. There’s no telling when we’ll get to put together another girl group. You’ve got the talent, kid, but this might be your last chance to show it.”

She’s right, of course. 23 is old for a trainee. Hell, younger idols should be hitting the peak of their careers at 23. Even if I left JYPE, there’s only a very infinitesimal chance I’d be picked up by another agency. There’s an even smaller chance that theoretical company could debut me.

I swallow uneasily and tighten my grip on the director’s hands. I give her a tiny nod to continue, fighting off the urge to cry.

“They’re putting together a reality show,” Jae-Hwa begins to explain, holding my gaze, “Where they’re going to have our top trainees ‘intern’” she releases one hand to air-quote the word, her eyes rolling despite herself. It makes me giggle, and by her small smile, that was her goal, “with one of our active groups for the duration of a comeback.”

I tilt my head questioningly at her, “What does that have to do with the protests?” I ask. So far it seemed like just an innovative audition show to me.

the director’s eyes reveal her unease, even as her face stays resolute. “The trainees will be put in a pool for the groups to choose from.” She continues to explain, seemingly ignoring my question, “But,” She hesitates, “They’re only going to allow the groups to choose completely opposite- gender trainees.

[amethyst-marshmallow]

My designs for the main 3 numbers!!! (i didnt put x bc i draw him all the time anyway)

Yayy!! Hcs & yapping under cut :3

For all algebraliens:

They have either paws or claws on their hands, their feet area always paws tho (rip One)

They also usually either have a fluffy tail (like four) or a like. line tail? idk what to call it (what One and Two both have) but they r smooth although they can have spikes which are pointyy (One has these, X (not pictured) has some too which resembles barbed wire) (Two's tail is just smooth tho)

They do have a thin layer of fur, it is usually also thicker on their arms than their main body (though sometimes a secondary species can change this). It also gets thicker in the winter! Sometimes algebraliens can have tufts of fur, like Four's heart-shaped tuft (which also has some magenta fur), though it is rare

gender as a concept did not exist for them, since they had no sexes (they reproduce asexually) so they all use all pronouns but the ones who have lived on earth longer sometimes have some that they prefer :3 those r the ones i wrote down but basically just assume a "/any" behind those

Number algebraliens specifically tend to have 2 main colors and the whites of their eyes are colored, they also tend to not really have a secondary species/assigned animal instead having an associated shape :3 though they can have secondary species rarely (ex. my nine is a cat, though he also has a lightning bolt as her shape)

These guys:

One - she/they

Main color is purple-y blue, ik but i had to make it different from four and six also gaty refrence omg periwinkle hahah secondary color is yellow/blue bc it changes omg crazyyy

Motif is crescent moons ofc, the halo is moon shaped and the horns r also supposed to kinda remind u of that

Her horns/halo both glow, but its a softer glow when they turn blue

Two - she/he

Main color is green secondary is purple :3 i think they contrast nice but lmk if its ugly as shit

Motif is circles ik i couldve chosen stars but there is already another green character associated with stars i draw frequently (Vee dw)

Their antennae endpoint ball thingies also glow, she can change how bright the glow is :]

Also shes aroace idc idgaf i see all the two ships as platonic. cry about it (yes this includes both twogaty/gatwo and 2x8 which was literally said to be platonic,, wah wah wah)

Four - actually does not care xd

Main color is blue second is magenta :3 i like contrasting color scheme,, this one idec if ppl think its ugly its fitting but i do like it

I chose hearts for her motif bc mammals have 4 chambered hearts (algebraliens arent mammals but whateverrr) also you can make a heart shape 4 four fingers :) in two different ways!! also it is partially inspired by that one scene in bfb 4

Their design is MY FAV omg i love him sm shes so cool erm yeah

yeah it was hard for me to decide what i wanted to do bc i knew antennae would look ugly for me bc they already have the bnuy ears goin on so i went with whiskers!! and then i put hearts on them :3 i ended up being rlly happy w this design ahudkafsb i hope you love him as much as i doooo,,,

also like i said earlier they do have the Rare! trait of having a tuft of fur and it even fades into magenta omg thats so cool i mostly did it since i knew from far away/in a simlpified form u wouldnt see the tuft but i still wanted to put a heart there so i decided to have it fade like that (even if its not really a "fade" but idk what else to call it xd) so from far away u could still see a magenta heart, like on the chibis

also the heart particles appear when they get happy, this is directly taken from the bfb 4 scene,,, when they get really happy the magic in the particles gets strong enough they become a physical object and they fling off at rlly high speeds >:3

ok lol Fours section was rlly long but i rlly like four shes so silly :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3 :3

by.e :D

[ecogirl2759]

So, I decided to take a few photos of the Danganronpa 4コマ KINGS series and compile a few of the findings I thought were funny.

I don't have everything fully translated yet, so there may be a few issues with my findings. If you find any mistakes or have anything to add, please lmk :) I'll also update this if I find things later.

---IMPORTANT NOTE---

All of these drawings are NOT mine. Everything comes from the 4コマ KINGS series published by Spike Chunsoft. I'm simply photographing them and sharing them with others who may not have seen them before (since the series is out of circulation). If there is any issue with my post, please inform me so that I can take appropriate action.

All photos are below the break here :) (Warning, it's long lol) ((And there are a few minor spoilers))

(EDIT: As a side note, I've posted more pictures in an update. Idrk how this site works, so I'm letting people know here so you can find it if you want.)

Fun things that you can learn from the Danganronpa 4コマ KINGS comics:

Hifumi has written, drawn, or thought of making content relating to Sayaka x Kiyoko, Aoi x Sakura (on two occasions), and Makoto x Byakuya

Toko thinks that… something… happened between Mondo and Kiyotaka in the sauna, wink wink.

Toko wrote some sort of fanfiction in relation to Byakuya, Chihiro and Mondo. Idk what it is, but the title is along the lines of "The Byakuya Family Household Sweep Away a Beautiful Girl". (Pretty sure it's a Mondo x Chihiro fic, but I could be wrong.)

^ pretty sure Syo is a heavy BL fan lol

Aoi's b00bs are so squishy, she can use them to launch herself off things.

Everyone really likes drawing pretty boy Byakuya. Like, he looks fabulous in some of these panels. Here is one of those pictures:

........Okay, fine, this is the right one:

Hifumi has drawn gender swaps of a few of the boys, being Makoto, Byakuya, Leon, Yasuhiro, Kiyotaka, and Mondo.

Leon really wants a harem lol

Kiyoko's secret picture (from the last trial in-game) was of Class 78 hosting a cat maid cafe

Yasuhiro's secret (the motive in Chapter 2) is that he's an idiot.

Mondo, Kiyotaka and Sayaka all get along really well! So do Mondo, Kiyotaka and Chihiro :)

Mondo knows how to sew!

Mondo doesn't wear eyeliner, he just has really long eye lashes.

Mondo's hair is fluffy and bouncy :)

Makoto thinks Mondo's hair looks like a corn chip. Aoi thinks it looks like a chocolate croissant :)

Chihiro once gave Mondo a game about dogs. He loved it lol

Chihiro and Mondo have actually trained together.

^ they actually make a great team :)

(I'm pretty sure that) Kiyotaka was found guilty in a trial relating to black underwear. Unclear if he was executed or not. (This point is subject to change once I fully translate the comic.)

Kiyotaka was brainwashed by the Mono-Rangers (parody on Power Rangers) in a different comic. He became Commander Ishimaru and enforced rules and dress code in a dictator-like fashion. (Full translation is still in the works.) This is what his outfit looked like:

Daiya dies in 4K

Komaru's here :D

Mukuro shows up a lot as herself! She's so cute lol

Kiyoko's kinda socially awkward lol, it's really cute.

Makoto has wanted to see up Kiyoko's skirt on multiple occasions.

Makoto has tried a couple of times to cheer Kiyotaka up. It does not work.

And now, here are some funny out-of-context panels to cap off this post! These were too hilarious not to include, I just couldn't make a bullet point out of them lol.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk :)

[oneforthemunny]

6 - C - ?

#Roll game

back on my roll game shit lol. sorry everyone life beat the shit out of me but i'm back up now lol! for your roll- dom!eddie, touching toes, and belt <3

contains: minors dni, dom/sub themes, spanking w/ implement, slight voyeurism-ish??, all consensual.

"I'm not telling you again," Eddie growled, fingers fumbling with the intricate belt at his waist, two hand cuffs intertwined on the spiked leather. "Bend over and grab your ankles, or I'll make you pick a switch and do it out there instead. That what you want?"

Your body burned, cheeks flooding with embarrassed heat sending waves of heat crashing to your core. Your lips pressed in a hard line, looking towards the door, the buzz of the movie from downstairs slowly making its way upstairs.

Gareth had invited everyone over for a Halloween marathon before the new one came out. You'd been excited about it, so Eddie wasn't sure why you were so moody now. You'd woken up like that, huffy and snappy and mean. He'd warned you before you came, hoping his threats were enough to keep you in line, but they seemed to only make things worse.

Halfway through the second movie, you'd loudly announced your boredom with a groan. "Haven't you guys seen this before? Why are you rewatching it? That's so weird." The room shifted uncomfortably, all eyes on Eddie, who burned bright red, mortified at your loud declaration.

"She's kidding." Eddie said quickly, giving a forced smile that he hoped hid his embarrassment. "You're one to talk, baby, you do this all the time with Night Court."

You'd started to retort, an eye roll and a scoff, Eddie's hand squeezing your thigh harshly cut you off. You saw the anger in his eyes, sharp and daring, your tummy flipping with excitement, simmering into submission. Ten minutes later, he was hissing in your ear to go upstairs and wait for him.

"Hey," Eddie snapped, a brow lifted in rivaling challenge of your defiance, and pulling you out of your thoughts. "Look at me."

Your eyes met his in a furrowed, furious glare. "Is that what you want?" His arms crossed in front of his shirt, tighter fitting nowadays since he started working at the auto-shop part time.

"No," You muttered, looking down at your nails. "But I don't want you to do it here either."

"Should've thought of that before you acted like such a brat down there." Eddie shook his head, looking down the slope of his nose menacingly at you. He could tell by the way your thighs pressed together, shifting from one leg to the other, that wasn't entirely true.

"Hurry up, pull your shorts down and bend over. The longer you wait, the more people are going to get suspicious. Might just come up here and catch you like this." You shivered at the threat, a gush of excited wetness flooding between your legs, pushing your jean cutoffs to the ground.

Your shorts pooled at your ankles, body bent to grab at your calves, ass stuck out in the position Eddie desired. He hummed with satisfaction, the doubled up belt tapping over the globes of your ass in warning.

"I'm not doin' this long." Eddie muttered, the roaring hum of the suspenseful music rising up the stairs from the living room. Eddie pulled the belt back, sending it flying forward and striping across your ass with a firm snap.

You gasped, soft but enough that he heard it. The two of you pausing to see if the others did, but the movie continued on, so did the two of you. Eddie brought the belt down again, higher this time. Your nails dug into your calves, swallowing back a cry.

"You better keep your mouth shut for the rest of the night, you hear me?" Eddie growled, the belt cutting through the air with a whistle, a rather loud wallop of a smack landing across your flesh.

You whined, biting your tongue to keep your cries silent. The idea that the others might hear was both exciting and mortifying, left you aching with a need and burning with pleasure between your legs.

"I better not hear one," The belt swung back, hitting the space where your thighs met your ass.

"Single," Again, higher this time. You whined.

"Mean thing come outta that mouth." Two spanks, faster this time, a crescendo that had you lifting and lowers, trying to hold on and raise up all together.

"Or I'll take you home and cane you. Do you understand?" Eddie's voice was rough, firm with a threat that had you shuddering, excitement spilling down your spine, a blinding ache between your legs.

Eddie lifted the belt again, bringing it down with a hefty smack after your silence. "Understand?"

"Yes, yes," You panted, the blood beginning to rush to your head from the position, mind dizzying from the pleasure between your legs. "I-I won't. I promise."

Eddie seemed satisfied, pulling his belt back through his jeans. "Put your pants back on, and wait a minute before going down. Got it?" He watched you, giving you a nod before softly shutting the door.

You followed his instructions, brain a little foggy and a little needy after being left achy in so many ways. You contemplated slipping your hands between your thighs, finishing yourself off, but you knew that would only make it worse. You wanted to be good now, hoping that Eddie might be good to you later.

So instead, you walked back down the stairs on shaky legs, chin ducked to your chest hoping the others couldn't see your glass eyes, the secret shame on your cheeks. You winced when you settled back down beside Eddie, his arm wrapping around you, pulling you closer to him in a silent forgiveness, letting you curl into his chest for the rest of the night.

[mxr1na]

✧˖°ʚ🍵ɞ♡Sicktember Day 1[I’m not hungover, I’m just sick]Jeckole Angst- Class of ‘09✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

A/N: Day 1 of @sicktember’s 2024 Event! I really had fun doing this even though it was a time crunch cause I was just aware of the event like yesterday, but it’s fine. 🌊🫧Info!🫧🌊 730~ words

Inadequate writing lol

See here! to participate in the Sicktember event!

See here! to find all my Sicketmber works!

Tw!- Heavy swearing, drug abuse + mention of vomit. Viewer discretion is advised.

Enjoy ^^

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ “Bitch why the fuck you haven’t been answering my calls? I know you don’t want to do the project, but I need this to graduate high school-” 

Jecka slams open Nicole’s bedroom door, an obscene amount of annoyance washed away as she spots the brunette rotting in her bed in the humid room, which feels like being in a gym locker room.

Somehow, Nicole still looks appealing to the male demographic even if she is sickly pale with eyebags so deep you could’ve mistaken them for potholes.

She coughs, and smiles wanly at her. “Hey Jecka,”

“Oh shit are you okay?” Immediately at Nicole’s side, Jecka looks at her, feeling the creases and wrinkles under Nicole’s eyes. Her ebbing annoyance spikes up again.

“Ugh, did you try that MySpace challenge, the one where they’d snort a foot long line of whatever drug they could find? You know people actually died from that shit right?”

“When did you keep up with the news? No, I’m just down with the flu. I’m not that crazy,”

“The Spanish Flu?! Yeah right, don’t fucking lie to me. No one looks this bad when having the flu. Where’s the stash?” 

“Well I am!” Nicole snaps. “I get sick easily.I’ve been convulsing and throwing up for hours, couldn’t you tell?” She points to the evident putrid vomit bucket, almost filled to the brim with puke beside the bed. 

“Ew, shouldn’t your mom, like, empty that?” Jecka scrunches up her face.

“No, she’s too busy stocking up her medicine cabinet with beta blocker to care… Speaking of, can you get me some Paracetamol from there? Everywhere hurts like hell,” 

Jecka sighs “Knowing you, you’d probably mix it with bedside stash of Xanax, crush it up and snort it, so no, stay hurting like hell,”

“Fuck you, whore,”

Jecka rolls her eyes and sits down on the side of the bed. 

“That being said, I’m really concerned about you Nicole. This life isn't good for you…”

“Who are you? My friend or a guidance counsellor that isn’t trying to fuck me?”

“Okay you know what? Fuck you, I’ll just tell you straight. You’re fucked up and need help, and not even the cool sexy way that people fantasise about. The way people are being put in the mental asylum fucked up. And I’m sorry I can’t be like you, or even want to be like you, bu-” 

“Oh don’t make me laugh. We’ve popped percs and have done drugs together, don’t act all high and mighty now, when you yourself is as bad as I am,”

Jecka hesitates, scrambling her brain to say something as equally smart as her statement only 10 seconds ago.

“Well- atleast I don’t take the illegal shit, just fucking around with kid stuff to blow off some steam! You know, the ones that literally every high schooler would take in high school?”

“Oh, just because what I use is illegal makes me worse than you huh? The outcome is the same, isn’t it? The reason we take it is the same, is it not? Using it to get off some steam. So when I use an alternative you don’t like, then, I’m in the wrong?” Nicole’s face is manic, insane, testing Jecka’s will to not just bend her back over to agree with Nicole, like she usually does.

“Stop trying to act all philosophical and shit to guilt me into agreeing with you. I’m just trying to help,” A tentative step backwards. Look at you Jecka! Making progress!

“I don’t need your fucking help Jessica.” Nicole chucks the bucket at Jecka, who swiftly dodges it, all but some vomit finding its new home on her shirt. 

After that, she just…

Snaps.

Jecka shoves Nicole, making her hit the headboard, earning a bunch of her hair being roughly pulled, almost ensuring her to be left with a bald patch on her scalp.

“What, the FUCK NICOLE? I WANT TO HELP BECAUSE WE ARE  FRIENDS! WHAT, JUST BECAUSE I’LL BEND MY BACK OVER FOR MOST THINGS YOU ASK ME TO DO MAKES ME YOUR LITTLE PLAYTHING? YOU’RE FUCKED UP AND NEED TO BE LOCKED UP!”

“I DONT NEED YOUR HELP, AND I NEVER DID. JUST FUCK OFF!”

Ouch. That must’ve stung. But if it hurt Jecka, no evidence of it showed on her face.

“OKAY I WILL” Jecka slams the door shut, a gross trail of footprints tailing behind her.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🚬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Mxr1na 2024. Do NOT copy, rewrite or claim work as your own. If you see my work elsewhere, please send an ask :3

[spotaus]

WOOOOOOOO!!!! More Ood writing!!!!

I WROTE ALOT MORE

MORE KALE:

Description of her :

She’s a short girl, standing at 5`2. Her hair is wavy (some hair strands are a bit more curly than others) with a curtain bang haircut. She wears (from the ruins to two years with sans & papyrus) a dark cyan-green ish sweater with what she claims to be Ivy embroidered on it (it’s kale…) soft yellow stitches brighten up her leaves for the most part on her sweater. Kale is known for being a dweeb who tucks in her shirt and puts on a nice belt. Her pants are baggy and long corduroys. Her mother didn’t bother buying her nice and comfortable clothes. So the school’s donations will have to do. She has cream/peach colored skin with a rosy nose and cheeks. She wears a pair of combat boots with just a bit of heels. (The heels put her at 5`4) 

Kale is an intelligent and always stressed, high expectations from her demanding and unloving mother (and herself) makes it hard to catch a break.

Her mother :

A cold and callous woman with a nack for making her daughter’s life much more miserable than it already is! Mrs.Estrella is a widow to a very successful and loved man. She’s a beautiful woman who can’t stop gossiping. Her morals are around the grey. Would she kill someone’s.. depends did they ruin her designer clothes? Kale’s life at home isn’t the prettiest, from mental abuse to bullying from her mother. 

This widow never wanted a child, Kale was a curse to her. How on earth was she suppose to live carefree if there’s a whiny little brat always in her stunning curls? So one day, she sends kale on her way to pick “the prettiest flower” all the way at the tallest cave at mount ebbt. That’s right folks you’ve heard it hear first IT WAS KALE’S MOTHER WHO STARTED THE DOMINO EFFECT. Much like chara, Kale sees humans (her mother influenced this) as revolting and unforgiving creatures once toriel explains why she and the other monsters are down underground.

With papyrus and sans : 

here Kale is much more stressed, she out in the open and always with in of the skeletons. But she can’t spar, and one of pretender’s honest confessions (I think he’d be honest or drop a hint that he’s not the best fighter) makes her always on edge. She begs papyrus to help her get stronger so in case anything happens, she’ll be able to defender herself or them. Of course papyrus agrees but it’s very kiddie level stuff. She didn’t learn much. But after five years in snowdin. She tries to go out exploring. Some time she befriends MK, becomes a role model for him. She teaches him human behavior to help him “lure” better. For all he knows, she’s a very good shapeshifter. Until undyne tries to kill her. Undyne gets used to Kale after a few mercies and close calls. It took a lot but kale manages to show undyne. Her respect and passion for the monster race! That brings us to the echo flower scene, K wants to gift the skeleton brothers something as a thank you for all their hard work. She knows she a burden. She sees it every time there’s a close call, or a struggle. It makes her feel horrible to know she can’t do anything. But the idea is for her to get something for pretender & papyrus at the lab! She sees all the photos of that one scientist, she aware he’s import. so she assumes she’ll just have to make their day by getting something of his for them. Little did she know a certain yellow lizardfolk is waiting for her.

The lab scene :

The lab is quiet for sure, Alphys lost in her madness(how I drew her in my comic er, that I’ve realized no one’s seen but the targeted audience. Spot. Eherhhhh) anyway she she’s food deprived and looking for a bit of a snack. When she smells a certain human. Kale is unaware of Alphys or her presence until she’s being changed down winding hallways, cluttered with loose wires, stacked up paper work and other obstacles. Kale ends up tripping a trap. A door opens from under her feet and she lands in a small pit (like a classic trap, it’s filled with spikes!) luckily, kale is very very petite and only hit a few spikes. But they were enough to skim her eye; causing the scar down her face, impale her upper tight, and her left arm. Very painful. So the idea is MTT helped her escape and stalled for kale, I think she’d make it to around waterfall before asking monster kid to get pretender. She’s not doing so hot. So she settled down next to some echo flowers and chats with them until help comes. 

That’s all for now 😏

dopple!tale and its characters (besides kale and her mother) is made by @spotaus or @spotlightstudios

[undeadmagick]

How my Deities Appear to Me ♡

One of my very first posts was talking about how surreal it was to see my deities (or how they present themselves to me). You can find it here. So I decided to make a whole post to show what they look like to me with descriptions and some images to kinda explain what I mean. :)

Note: I haven’t meditated with Lucifer before so his appearance isn’t clear to me. Also Apollo had a blurred/unclear face to me when we met so in this post, I’ll be talking about my other deities. If this is an interesting post, I might make a pt. 2 with Apollo even though his face is somewhat unclear to me.

Extra Note: Again, these are how they appear to ME. Obviously, deities present themselves as they think is most identifiable/comfortable to each individual. :)

Deities Featured: Hades, Freyja, Jörmungandr

Hades

Hades has always been the most clear to me. I don’t know if it was because I hold onto the memory so tightly or if it’s because I feel the most connected to him. But for Hades, he presents himself as an older man (late 50s). Many lines on his face with incredibly strong features like a prominent nose. Characters like Snape or Death from Supernatural have that side profile that is similar to how he presents himself to me. Although, Death has the most accurate face to me since Hades has that prominent bump in his nose, sunken in cheeks and thin lips. He has long, sleek black hair and usually wears a black version of Ancient Greek robes that hang off of one shoulder. He also holds his bident, using it almost like a walking stick as he walks. Incredibly tall (Although that’s a feature for most of my deities. For some reason, they all appear to be like 9ft tall.)

Freyja

Freyja also appears to me as an older woman. She has lines on her face like a woman in her older 40-50s. She always keeps a stoic look on her face, cold eyes but warm demeanor in a way. Lagertha from Vikings has a similar vibe to Freyja in having an intimidating and fierce aura but I would say Michelle Pfeiffer when playing Janet van Dyne has a more accurate appearance. Michelle has those high cheeks with lines coming from her nose downward as well as a square-ish face that Freyja has. A mature, motherly appearance while having a femininity to her which perfectly encapsulates Freyja being the goddess of love & beauty but also goddess of war. Freyja also has long ash blonde hair with some small braids in it. Most notably, she wears furs over her shoulders and golden metal jewelry. Much like Hades, she is incredibly tall, towering over me.

Jörmungandr

Ohh, my only non-human deity, lol. Bit more complicated to explain but I’ll try my best. So, obviously, he doesn’t appear as large as he’s described in mythology (or else I’d be 10x smaller than his pupils). He is similar in size to his model in the GOW game, large enough to dwarf you but small enough to fit into a deep lake/ocean. Different to that game, his scales are a deep blue/black in color. But similar to that game is that his appearance is a mix of a snake and more draconic features. His head isn’t as flat as a snake’s but is more pronounced with spikes amongst his scales like a dragon would have. His nostrils aren’t as high up like the game but instead the usual snake placement of being lower and to the front. His eyes are golden sometimes but not incredibly bright. While he is incredibly intimidating, both in attitude and size—causing my heart to race, meditation sessions tend to me calm. (Funny how looking for images that resemble him are more heartracing/anxiety inducing than actually seeing him lol. He has chill vibes.) Since he doesn’t speak physically, it tends to be quiet with just the sounds of the waves of the ocean. Only his head and some of his body appears out of the water. I’ve never seen his entire being.

[11queensupreme11]

So…kinda depressing ask but Demeter’s recent death kind of had me wondering, especially since you mentioned in an ask once LONG ago—so long ago that’s it’s to the point I can’t even find it anymore 😭—that Poseidon wouldn’t kill his siblings just severely mutilate them.

((I’m assuming u totally ditched that when it came to Demeter’s death—which is totally fine cause either way it flows well with ur story and ur description of Poseidon because if Demeter is permanently dead it checks out because she took something from Poseidon that he would never forgive and he would see that as a betrayal which would, in his mind, justify the killing. And if she is still alive (although I don’t see how that could be possible- how can u stay alive when you’ve been…ripped apart 😭😂😅) but living like Adamas then that’s also possible since she is his sister and he’s spared his siblings before (adamas) after mutilating them of course.))

All that to say, it got me wondering. Could and/or would Poseidon or any of the other yans, if they ever became like SUPER (astronomical levels, really) upset with Percy. Result to…killing her? Could they?

yeah demeter is permanently dead, no coming back at all. no revival, no reincarnation, etc. i'm pretty much going the canon route on how deaths are handled! so in ror, when gods die they go to niflhel! same goes with the human souls in the after life (and by that, i mean, after dying in midgar, if they die again in helheim/valhalla, they go to niflhel)

in the ror wiki:

HOWEVER!!! the only difference is that in my fic, gods don't have souls. instead, they're made of divine essence. so for the sake of my fic, when a god dies, their divine essence is destroyed

so yeah, no coming back for demeter or zagreus 😅

as for ur other question.......

the yans absolutely CAN kill percy. ror characters are ridiculously op in terms of physicality, especially the gods cuz i gave them a huge buff. do you guys recall those brief lines i'd type up throughout previous chapters that are always something like "he gripped her arm so hard had it not been for the Curse of Achilles he would've snapped her bones" and stuff like that? yeah i was being fr, these gods can easily crush her to death on ACCIDENT 💀 it's the whole reason i set the story in-between pjo and hoo so she would still have the achilles curse! they're gods who don't interact with humans, they don't know how to be gentle 😭 even a high five could've ripped her hand off or shatter her lmaooo

as for cú chulainn, he's in the same boat (in terms of physicality). since i'm not going with canon (cuz it was too late for me lol), cú chulainn will be the "human with the strength of a god" kind of demigod, like what heracles was pre-ascension. so since he has the strength of a god, he could ALSO kill percy, HOWEVER. unlike the gods, he knows how to actually be careful so he has a lesser chance of actually killing her. the only issue is his ridiculously op gáe bulg which is canonically stated can't be "dodged nor guarded against". if ra and morrigan weren't fast or strong enough to dodge it, there's no damn way percy can 💀 again, the curse of achilles will save her here AS LONG AS SHE KEEPS HER FRONT FACING TOWARDS THE SPIKES. if she has her back to it..... 💀💀💀💀 but i can't see a scenario where he'll ever be so mad he uses that weapon on her.

also there's his freaky 👹goblin mode👹 thing i forgot to mention, but that hasn't been talked about in the manga yet and so far, from the myths, it just makes him more stronger and uncontrollable. if he were to get angry and get into ríastrad then yes, she'll be in a lot of danger 💀

so yes. the yans absolutely CAN kill her, but they won't ever be angry enough to actually want to murder her (excluding beelie's demonic destrudo ofc). the most likely scenario is that they accidentally kill her in a fit of rage. the gods have a higher chance of doing this, cuz they can literally just obliterate her or smite her without needing to even think that much.

[yesornopolls]

Kind of a long one, sorry

A bit of backstory/explanation: My father has anger issues and is known to lash out, yell, throw things, etc. My brother (I think he's 12-13 or somewhere around that age range) is, frankly, a bit of a pest, mainly due to his ADHD.

One day, my brother is being a brat again (nothing too terrible, I think he was being pestering his siblings or something along those lines), so my father gets angry and decides to pin him against the wall with a firm hand on the boy's neck, yelling at him until he finally decides to let go. Father then lifts him so he's kind of hanging (???) off the back of the couch, spanks him hard a few times, then forces him to sit on a chair next to him, but my brother doesn't stop crying. After about 5 ish minutes of sobbing and father telling him to shut up, father shouts at him again and slaps him three times on the cheek, then yells at him again. These weren't light slaps, either.

These sorts of things are not very uncommon in our household, espacially towards the brother mentioned above specifically, but usually it doesn't escalate that far. Mother is (although she likely wouldn't admit it) scared of father and doesn't do anything about his hissy fits. She just let's them happen, then either utters a soft "Dear" to him, or apologizes for him afterwards. And I'll admit, it's quite scary knowing that if I say something to upset him, he could likely hurt me badly, and there would be nothing anyone could/would do about it. No one in the house is really big enough/strong enough to do anything if he ever took things too far.

He's never really hurt me wothout reason, nor has he really gone "Out of control", but his past outbursts cause my anxiety to spike whenever I hear him yell, even if I'm in a different room.

So, the question is: Is this something I should be concerned about, and/or should I call anyone of authority if his behaviour continues?

(Also, sorry this turned out to be a half question, half rant lol)

[mountainsandmayhem]

Wings. Fire. Magic. Part Three

Joel Miller x Female Reader - AU

Masterlist || Part One || Part Two

Summary: After being stripped of your wings by The King, you see a new side of Joel, maybe a side that you might like a little too much. CW: I don't think any warnings are needed for this chapter, and I don't want to give any spoilers. 18+ due to talks of female pleasure. AN: Thank you @mermaidgirl30 for listening to me blab about this story, and being the first to encourage me writing it! So glad I slid into your DM's lol. Dragon graphics by @saradika-graphics WC: 4.1k

The sound of heavy footfalls stirs you from your sleep. It takes a few minutes for you to come too, groaning in pain as you try to get your bearings. Your body is being jolted around and when you crack an eyelid there’s nothing but a leather covered mass in front of you. You blink slowly a few times and see your arms dangling below you, possibly above you. 

Fuck, where I am? 

After a few more breaths you realize you’re upside down, stomach folded over on a broad shoulder. You close your eyes and focus on the rest of your body. You can feel fur on your skin, and it comes flooding back. 

The guards stripping off your clothes, The Sorcerer and his mist. Fuck, if you’re not dead then that means…breeding camp.

You squeeze your fists tightly and begin pounding on the back of whoever is carrying you. “LET ME GO!” you yell as he starts ascending a winding stone staircase. 

When you reach the top, the man slides you off his shoulder and places you gently on your feet. Joel. His eyes look into yours gently as he adjusts the furs over your shoulders, tightening it around you to block out the cold night air. 

Four guards come up the stairs behind you. The biggest one says, “you have five days, Miller. Otherwise, we’ll come for you.” 

Rem lands with a soft thump between you and the guards, letting out a menacing growling. Everything seems foggy and unclear, pain in your head pounds relentlessly behind your eyes. The last thing you remember was being placed on a table. 

How are you going with Joel? 

What’s happening? 

You feel light headed and start to fall to the ground. Everything feels weak. Joel catches you before you fall and hoists you up to sit sideways in the saddle. Your clothes are gone, just furs to keep you covered. Joel doesn’t say anything to the guards who are now cowering in fear. The long spikes that line the neck and back of Remmer’s head are standing straight up, growling and huffing smoke at them as she waits for Joel. 

“Easy girl,” he says as he grabs the reins. With a small tug she stands up tall, stretching her massive wingspan before taking flight. Joel adjusts to control Remmer with one hand, wrapping the other arm around you and pulling you into his body. Your cheek lands on his collarbone and you relax into his pine and fresh grass scent. 

His lips brush the top of your head as he whispers, “Rest. I’ll explain everything when we’re back.” 

“Back?” You croak. Your mouth is bone dry, how long have you been out for?

“Just trust me.” 

The pain behind your eyes waves again, reminding you that this is his doing. Trust him? Not a fucking chance. You were stripped naked and poked at all because of him. You feel your wrist, no magic cuff. You lean deeper against Joel. You’re going to miss the way his eyes roam over your face, no one looks at you like that, but you can’t stay with him. You have to play it cool, make him think you’re relaxing and then make your escape. Rem won’t hurt you, she might try to chase you but you’ll fly as fast as you can, you’ll swoop into the thick forest and use the trees for cover, she’s too big to follow you in there. 

Don’t move your wings, you tell yourself. 

“Joel?” You saw sweetly, looking up at him through your lashes. 

He grunts in acknowledgment, eyes fixed on the night sky. God he looks beautiful in the moonlight.

“Can you move back for one second? I need to readjust.” 

Joel shuffles back, loosening his grip on your side. This is your chance, you slide off the saddle quickly, free falling to the ground. When Remmer and Joel are above you, you rip the blanket off and flex your back to open your wings. 

Only your wings don’t open, and you’re plummeting to the ground completely naked. You start to flail your limbs, looking back to see two gaping and scarred holes that are glowing blue where your wings should be. 

The ground is catching up to you quickly. Anger fills your chest. They took your wings. They took your wings. Your wings. Your magic. You’re essentially mortal now as you plunge to what will be your death. 

You let out a rage filled scream, just as Joel maneuvers Remmer gracefully underneath you and you fall completely bare onto Joel’s lap. 

“What the fuck did you do to me, Joel!!” You demand, punching against his chest with your fists. 

Rem lands on the ground in the middle of a field of crops. 

“I saved you.” Joel states. 

“They mutilated me!”  You’re practically screaming at him, spinning around to show him. His eyes turn sad as he takes you in. 

“Saved me? No - you,“ it comes out thick with disgust, your finger pointing in his direction, “you let them mutilate me!” 

Joel slides off his jacket and then removes his grey shirt. You’re mad, but you can’t stop yourself from taking in his naked upper half. He’s tanned and tattooed, markings of those who swear to protect the realm swirl down his arms. A large dragon across his abdomen and up the right side of his ribs. A tiny handprint over his heart. Before you can take in the rest he throws his jacket back on and holds his shirt out to you. 

You cross your arms in defiance so he takes it upon himself to slip it over your head, the hem stopping a few inches down your thighs. Your back hurts as you push your arms through the holes, you aren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed the searing pain before.

“They wanted to wake you, and torture you while they stole your wings.” He says, zipping his jacket back up with his thick, strong fingers. 

“You should have let them,” you say, fighting the tears that are building behind your eyes. 

“You’d rather be tortured and killed than be near me? I saved you, I told them I’d take you as my slave.” His voice is broken and pleading and it just makes you hate him more.

“Go fuck yourself.” You turn and start walking through the crops. Pushing thick stalks out of your way, not caring as they scratch at your entire body. 

“Stop. I don’t intend to actually make you my slave.” 

“Oh jeez thank you so much,” you snap over your shoulder. “Let me gather the masses and throw you a goddamn parade.” 

“Stop,” Joel is right on your heels, “I’m not - I’m not explaining this properly.” 

You continue walking, someone owns this farm. You’ll find the house and they’ll give you clothes and tell you where you are. You’re no longer in danger now that Joel has sacrificed your wings and magic to The King. Anger, confusion, sadness, it all swirls through your body. You don’t know how to feel, but you do know that you DO NOT want to be around Joel “I saved you” Miller.

“Stop!” Joel grabs your arm and turns you towards him. 

You glare up at him, wishing that looks could kill because he would cease to exist with the rage that twists in your face right now. 

“The King wanted to take your wings after The Sorcerer said you wouldn’t be able to breed.” Your hands come to subconsciously rest on your lower belly. Having children was never something you wanted. But you knowing that you can’t is just another knife to the back. 

“So I…” he pauses and runs his hand down his face, rubbing the hair that speckles his jaw. 

“You what?” You demand. 

“I offered The King dragons,” he whispers.

Your jaw drops. “You what?” You say softly. 

“I offered him three eggs, we settled on five.” His eyes are locked on yours, the moonlight reflecting on the warm brown flecks within them. 

“Five? Joel, I was alive the last time a king had dragons,” you shake your head and look up at the clear night sky. You remember the fire, the destruction. “This isn’t going to go well.”

He steps towards you, “I have a plan, but you need to come with me. And…” he trails off, his eyes looking down at his boots.

“And what?” you ask, even though you’re sure whatever he’s about to say is going to piss you off.

“If, or when, we get a visit from The King or his guards, you need to pretend that you are my slave.” He can’t bring himself to look at you. First, he ignored your warning about The King, then he watched helplessly as The Sorcerer took your wings. You jumped from a fucking dragon to get away from him.

“And my wings?” you scoff.

“When he gets his five eggs, you get your wings back.” 

The next afternoon, Remmer lands down in front of a sleepy log cabin before flying off to the heavily wooded area behind the house. The same wooded area that you snuck into just days ago to steal that fiery orange egg. Joel wanders up the stairs to the front door, opens it and then gestures with one hand for you to go inside. 

The front door leads to a warm and cozy open concept living and kitchen area. Joel immediately heads to the large fireplace and lights a fire. You stand in the doorway, still in just his t-shirt, with your hands clasped in front of you. You rock on the balls of your feet and look around. 

A large brown worn leather sofa sits in the middle, flanked by two cozy chairs of the same beaten down leather. The coffee table has a few books scattered on it. Large windows let in lots of natural lighting, and as the sunsets it highlights everything in a warm amber glow. The kitchen has an island in the middle, surrounded by tall wooden chairs. Cast iron pots and pans hang from the ceiling above it. Along the back wall is a large gas stove with plenty of cupboards and counter space. A deep copper sink sits underneath another large window. Everything is hues of deep greens and browns. It’s cozy and homey. It’s Joel. 

“Bedrooms and bathrooms are that way.” He says, pointing to the long hallway to your left before holding his large palms out to the heat of the fire. “You can come in…” 

You pad across the hardwood floor in your bare feet and sit gently on the edge of one couch cushion. The books on the coffee table are all about dragons and their histories. You glance around for any pictures or signs of other life here but you don’t see any. Does Joel not have a wife? You’ve deduced that he’s probably in his forties, so one would think he was married or a father, but there’s no sign of other life here. Just him.

“Are you hungry?” he asks as he stands across the living from you.

You shake your head no, linking your fingers and placing them on your lap, you look down at your hands, pushing back one of your cuticles. It’s so quiet here, only the crackling of the fire to fill the quiet gaps between the minimal conversation of you and Joel.

“Thirsty?” He asks sheepishly, “I can make coffee or tea.” 

You shake your head again, eyes focused on the cuticle of your thumb. What you want is to go home, your family needs you, or needed you at least. You guess you’re the same as them now that you have no magic and no wings, just the pointed ears of the Fae to show the world what you really are.  

Joel walks over and sits on the armchair closest to you, it groans beneath his weight, his leathers squeaking slightly against the lived-in leather of the chair. His expression is soft and kind, he takes a shaky breath before saying, “I really am sorry. But I’m going to do everything to get your wings back.” 

You glance up at him, “you can’t give him dragons, Joel. You can’t.” 

“Just trust me.” He says it in the same pleading tone he did before you took your insane death fall to the ground. 

You shrug and then turn your eyes back to your hands, focusing on another cuticle. Joel stands and wanders down the hallway. You hear water running and then him moving around the rooms, opening and closing what you assume are closets and drawers. The water stops and Joel walks back out to you, holding out a hand. 

You grab it tentatively and he leads you down the hall. He’s changed into loose black cotton pants and a fitted white t-shirt. He pulls you into the bathroom, soapy bubbles that smell like lavender and sea salt foam over the tub. 

“There’s a towel there,” he says, pointing to a small stool by the end of the tub, “and some clothes. They’re mine, I’ll get you something better tomorrow.” 

He turns and leaves, the door clicking softly behind him. As you lift your arms up to remove the shirt, the glowing scars on your back send sharp hot pain throughout your back and down your arms. You let out a gasp of pain, clamping your arms back to your side and you contemplate how you’re going to get out of this shirt. You glance down and thank your lucky stars that the shirt has a few buttons from the neck to the chest. Your fingers work to undo the buttons before you slip the shirt over your shoulders and down your body, then you slowly slide into the warmth of the tub that’s large enough for two. You close your eyes and breath in the calming aroma. Silence surrounds you, you can’t remember the last time you relaxed like this, where you didn’t have a laundry list of things to do and only you to do them. The salts in the bath start to dissolve, they feel like champagne bubbling along your sore muscles, relaxing them into pure bliss. You let out a content hum, sinking deeper into the hot water.

You feel like you’ve been soaking for hours when a small knock on the door catches your attention. 

“Ya?” You say quietly. 

Joel cracks the door, keeping himself on the other side, “are you doing ok?” 

“Umm, ya.” Truthfully, you were doing ok but you know you won’t be able to lift your arms to wash your hair. 

“Are you sure?” He asks through the little crack in the door. 

“Umm, well….I can’t exactly,” you’ve never had to ask for help in your life, and you realize at this moment that it’s not because you didn’t want help, it’s because there was no one to ask. But now, well now you do have someone you could ask, so why can’t you find the words. “No, never mind. I’m fine.”

“Can I come in?” He asks. After you sink into the bath so only your head is visible you give a shy yes. Joel has seen you naked before, just yesterday in fact, but something about him seeing you like this feels more intimate and vulnerable. 

A warm smile crosses his face, a little dimple that you haven’t noticed before dents his right cheek. “What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t lift my arms…” you say defeatedly. “I can’t wash my hair.”

He stares at you for a second and reaches for the cup on the vanity and then grabs the little stool. Placing the fluffy white towel and the clothes he’s lent you on the counter. 

“Spin around.” He groans a little as he bends down beside the tub to sit on the stool.

You do as he says, turning to face the wall and criss crossing your legs in front of you. Water sloshes around you and you hear some of it hit the tiled floor. You whisper a small sorry, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous.  

“It's ok,” he says, voice cracking a little. He clears his throat, “Tilt your head back, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. You dip your head back and close your eyes. It feels almost overwhelming to have someone care for you for once. Being in this gorgeous log cabin in a hot bath, the smell of the dinner he’s prepared wafts down the hallway and through the crack in the bathroom door. It smells like butter and garlic and some sort of red meat. Guilt swirls in your stomach. You haven’t been home in a week, your family might need you. 

You hear the click of the shampoo bottle, it smells like rosemary and mint as Joel rubs it in his palms behind you. His strong fingers come to your hair line, the pressure of the small circles of the pads of his fingers are delectable. When he hits your temples a chill runs down your body, your nipples peak at the attention under the hot water. He works backwards slowly along your scalp, when he hits the nape of your neck your whole body feels like it’s buzzing. He gently nudges you so your head tucks into your chin and he kneads at the muscles of your neck. You adjust your legs so you’re hugging your knees. Squeezing your legs together to try to help relieve some of the ache that’s building in between your thighs. 

Neither of you have spoken, but it’s a comfortable silence. Plus, you have a feeling that that is just how Joel is. Joel Miller is a doer and a giver, small acts like running you a bath or cooking a nice meal is how he shows that he cares. 

After working the shampoo through your ends, he guides your head back, grabs the cup and rinses the suds off. The combination of the warm water and his hands parting your hair is unlike anything you could have imagined and you stifle a small moan in your throat. He repeats the process with the shampoo one more time before running the conditioner through your ends. 

He stands and you look over your shoulder at him, “thank you, Joel.” 

He digs through a drawer in the vanity and pulls out a comb. “You don’t need to thank me,” he sits back down, groaning again, and you can only imagine how ridiculous his broad form must look sitting on the tiny stool. It can’t be comfortable for him. He spins the end of the comb at you and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling before turning back around. 

After eating the dinner Joel made, you both sit on the couch watching the fire. Dinner was accompanied by another comfortable silence, both of you perched on the stools around the counter. He made fingerling potatoes with fresh herbs, roasted carrots drizzled with honey, and a steak that he basted in butter and garlic. Now you’re wrapped in a blanket, knees tucked up to your body.

“Can I ask you something?” he says quietly, swirling the ice around in his whiskey glass.

“Ya,” you pull the fur blanket around you tighter. 

“Are you the only one with wings in your family?”

You hesitate for a second, “I was, now I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” he says, cutting you off, “I didn’t mean for that to come off as insensitive. I just feel like you have turned everything I’ve known about this world upside down.”

You shake your head and smile at the fire. “It’s ok, Joel. Over two thousand years ago, humans came into our villages. We worked together for a while, building this kingdom. Then one king managed to get his hands on a dragon, and the humans attacked us. Injecting us with that green magic in your chains and cutting off our wings to take the power for themselves.” 

Joel places his empty whiskey glass on the table before he walks over to crouch in front of you. His hands come to rest on the cushion on each side of you. He makes eye contact, oranges and reds dancing around the room from the fire.

“This isn’t the history that we are taught. We are led to believe The King is good after what he’s done to fix the mistakes of that king thousands of years ago. We are also told that Fae turned on us and we fought hard against them.” 

“Did you really believe that?” you scoff, “Fae back then had all sorts of magical powers. Some could have mortals like you evaporate into thin air if they wanted. Many had the ability to control minds. You never would have been able to win that war, unless we were tricked or attacked by surprise.” 

You look at each other in silence for a while before you slide one hand out from the blanket and place it on his. Both of you look at your hand on top of his. He rotates his wrist and you immediately intertwine your fingers with this. 

“Thank you for saving me, or trying to save me.” You say, eyes still fixed on your hands. 

“Don’t thank me until we have your wings back and you’re with your family.”

You look up at him, “I’ve been the only one caring for them for over six hundred years.” 

“I know. Please just let me help you.” 

You slide your legs out from the blanket so Joel is kneeling on the floor between them. Your free hand pushes back a stray curl that’s landed by his temple. His eyes shut as he leans into your touch. 

“Promise me that you’ll help my family.” 

He releases your hand and pulls you to the edge of the couch by your waist, bodies flush against each other now. Your hand tangles into the curls at the back of his neck, the other resting on his broad shoulder. 

“I swear I am going to fix this. I’m going to do whatever it takes to show you that you can trust me.” 

You brush your nose against his and close your eyes breathing in his scent. Pine needles and freshly cut grass, now surrounded by the cedar of the fire and the log cabin. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” you say in a breathy whisper.

“Never,” he hums. Your lips brush against his. He’s intoxicating. Just as you turn your head to let him kiss you a loud roar from the woods behind the house startles you, jolting you back on the cushion and out of his gravitational pull. 

“Rem has impeccable timing,” he says, shaking his head. “I better go see what’s going on. Your room is just across from the bathroom. I’m sorry.” 

“I want to come, too,” you say forcefully, standing and following him towards the kitchen.

“It’s safer if you stay. Rem likes you but, well - it’s just safer if you stay.” 

Joel disappears into the pitch black of night and you decide to head to your room. A large wooden bed frame takes up most of the space, but you have a large closet and a chair that looks out a big picture window. It’s too dark to see anything now, but you know it faces the woods where Joel took off to.

The morning sun peaks its way through the big trees towards the back of the house. It streams through your windows and the dreams of Joel’s rough hands on your body fade as you blink awake. 

You slipped into the plush white sheets completely naked last night, you can feel the wetness between your legs from your dream. You close your eyes and try to bring those images back. Your hands trail along your exposed skin, squeezing one breast hard, trying to imagine its Joel’s as you run a thumb across your hardening nipple. 

It still feels a bit wrong to be so attracted to him, but his apology last night was so genuine, you have to lean in and trust him. He’s your only chance, your only infuriating handsome chance. 

You continue playing with your nipple as your other hand trails down your stomach, tracing the slit of your pussy. Your clit throbs and more arousal wets your thighs. 

You spread your legs and wish Joel was here to call you a good girl as he settled himself between your legs. With that thought your hand dives for your entrance, collecting your slick before rubbing tight, fast circles on your clit. The other hand moves to your other breast, pinching the nipple and rolling it between your fingers. 

Fuck, you wish this was Joel. 

Slipping your hand down, you easily slide two fingers inside of yourself, trying to reach that oh so sensitive spot that drives you wild. The other hand comes down to put pressure on your clit, turning your head into the fluffy pillows to muffle your little moans of pleasure. 

That familiar burn starts to build, before you can stop it you whine Joel’s name as your body starts to shake. The wave of pleasure consumes your entire body and mind, images of him flashing behind your eyelids. 

The inner walls of your pussy clench down on your fingers, when the pleasure starts to ease you slide them out, looking down to see the wetness that still connects them. 

Fuck.

You roll onto your belly to catch your breath and hide your face. You aren’t embarrassed about indulging in your own pleasure, but you should not have thought about Joel Miller while doing it. 

After convincing yourself that it was a one time thing and he’s out of your system now, you slip back into the clothes Joel gave you. Comfortable fleece lined grey pants and a zip up sweater with a hood and large front pocket of the same colour.  You have no shoes so you slip out of the kitchen door and wander out over the cool morning grass in your bare feet.

You walk towards the woods where you know Rem will be. As you approach the clearing that you stole the egg from an eerie feeling washes over you. You take a few more steps before a large milky white dragon lands in front of you. You stumble backwards as its scales puff out around its neck. Its red eyes glow, it feels like they’re piercing into every fiber of your being. Its wings flare out, large talon-like spikes along each bend of the top ridge.  Remmer is nowhere to be found. Joel’s door was closed so he must be sound asleep. 

You stand, knees slightly bent, hands out in front of you. “It’s okay,” you say as camly as possible to the fierce beast. 

It snarls, lips pulling back to expose long sharp teeth. Smoke starts to billow from its cheeks. 

“Easy, it’s ok.” you’re trying to keep your voice calm but fear is eating at you from the inside out. Should you scream? Run? You thought you’d be coming out to Remmer, and she’d bounce over and let you pet her. This dragon is terrifying, the glassy white scales and ghastly red eyes. It’s not as big as Rem, but it still towers above you.

The dragon lets out a loud and angry growl that reverberates every bone in your body. Its spit hits your face, mouth open so wide that you can see the fire starting to form in the back of its throat. 

Fuck, I’m dead.

==================================

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[oveliagirlhaditright]

For funsies, some stuff about the Buffyverse characters that I've learned from reading the books and comics (a.k.a. fandom things they like):

Willow is a fan of Roswell (the OG one, of course).

Cordelia likes Bewitched. Namely Endora.

Anya's a fan of The Jetsons.

Since in one of the tie-in books, Dawn makes a positive reference to Jessica Alba, I think this means that she's a Dark Angel fan (since when Buffy takes place, that's largely what Jessica Alba what have been known for, of course). We also know that Dawn is a fan of Pirates of the Caribbean from the comics. One of the books also let us know that she likes NSYNC. Edit: She's also a fan of Daredevil.

I'm pretty sure that Xander is probably a "Pokémon" fan, since in one of the "High School Years" comics, he goes into a comic shop where they also trade "Pokémon" cards there. Obviously, that's not the only thing going for it--as it's also a comic shop--but this just seems very Xander, doesn't it? And Pokémon was so big in the 90's, when Buffy largely takes place.

And in the Buffy seasons 8-12/Angel & Faith comics, a number of the cast were Game of Thrones fans... though I kind of forget which characters were (I think Harmony was one, but don't quote me on that). I should probably reread the comics someday to refresh my memory on this. And just to reread them, of course. LOL

Edit: And Willow and Tara both loved this show (that was made up for the books) with this live psychic, that Tara and Giles went to a live recording of (because something came up and Willow couldn't go, so Giles went with Tara instead). And we got this Tara and Giles bonding moment that was really cute. We should have had stuff like that in the actual show for dear Tara.

Edit 2: Both Buffy and Dawn are fans of The Princess Bride.

Edit 3: Buffy loves It's a Wonderful Life, and watching this film with her dad (a number of times) is one of the good memories she has with him.

Edit 4: Buffy may not like Twilight, because when Angel calls himself "Twilight" as an alias in season 8 (it's a long story), she's incredulous that this villain she's facing (she doesn't know its Angel yet) would call himself that (edit: I should probably specify that Angel is not calling himself "Twilight" because of the Twilight Saga. LOL. Like I said, it's a long story as to why he is calling himself that, exactly), and she says she did that whole thing (story) first and her vampire was cooler. It might not be so much that she dislikes it (though she very well could), but that she somewhat feels that Twilight ripped off her own story (LOL), and--like she said--that she thinks Angel is cooler than Edward.

On the subject of Twilight, in the "In Every Generation" novel--that admittedly isn't canon and in its own 'verse, like separate from the comics for instance--Frankie (Willow's daughter) talks about how her and her mom, and Buffy (and maybe some of the other Scoobies), actually enjoyed watching vampire things like Twilight and The Lost Boys--it's sort of a silly little hobby of theirs.

Edit 5: Angel possibly doesn't like the The Phantom of the Opera (musical), because this one guy in the tie-in books keeps asking him to perform in this "demons only" performance of it that he wants to put on, and Angel is annoyed by being asked to do this all the time. So it's either he doesn't like the musical or he's just tired by this line of questioning or a mix of both.

But Spike maybe likes Phantom, because he at least knows a little but about the novel, to be able to compare some tunnels that they go through in one of the tie-in books to it.

In one of the Boom comics (that is not canon), Buffy quotes "Mr. Brightside" by The Killers, so she's probably a fan of the song there, of course.

[preppy-donkey]

Hiii ❤

I'm preppy donkey ❤🐴

I am a beginner artist ✒

My banner as of Dec 2024 :

Current media I'm interested in:

Tales of Arcadia 🔵🧌/Gravity falls 💫🌲/Steven universe💎/Mia and me (s1-2)🧚‍♀️ 🦄/she ra 2018 👑/ Emily wind snap 🧜‍♀️/old monster high 👹/ever after high👑👶/kipo 🐆💗/My Little pony g4 /mlb 🐞🐈‍⬛️/the owl house 🦉🏠 / Amphibia 🐸/Harry Potter👦⚡🧙‍♂️/jentry chau vs the underworld 😈🔥/the amazing digital circus 🎪 / murder drones🗡🤖

My AU's

(Some of these I haven't posted content for yet)

Su x gf:

Post Steven Universe Future

Gravity falls next summer

Steven has travelled for a year now and he has a van with a warp pad on the top haphazardly tied there by his father.

The twins practically begged their parents to go back and see their grunkles when they came back from their trip.

Greg who is Stan's younger brother who was born after Stan moved out got Steven a job for the summer to reconnect to his human side

Steven gets massive headaches when going inside the mystery shack and he doesn't know why. It's because he is a dream walker and the force field they used for anti-billifing the shack affects him.

Steven has corruption scars and horns and a short stubby tail but he shapeshifts them away in public.

This is so long sorry ❤

Changeling!Jim Au:

Tales of Arcadia post RoTT

Au where Merlin's potion turns jim into a changeling.

He can take off the armor!!!

Everything happens the same

In wizards the shard stops him from changing back and forth so he is stuck as a troll

At the end when he turns back time he remains a changeling and Clair remains a shadowmancer (very inexperienced one though)

The new troll hunting team is Eli, Steve and toby

Also aja has the same skin colour as krel ❤️

Mia and me redesign (WIP):

Complete Mia and me redo lol

Mia is basically elf disabled, her wings are too small to fly with because she is from earth and not centopia.

Elves have quaint little villages that have little lanterns lining the streets 💗 .

Dark elves are magic and when threatened can draw weapons from their scars, the bigger the scar the more dangerous the weapon

Violetta is a half dark elf when she goes to centopia.

Vincent goes to centopia at some point and rescues mia like Sara does except s3 is not canon to this au.

Mlp draconequus of friendship au

Mlp but Twilight is a draconequus

Shining armor found Twilight's egg while adventuring and twilight's family has raised her like their own ever since

Until the feel twilight has enough magical potential to go to Celestia's magic school

When Celestia meets twilight she sees her as a threat and locks her up in a library to become her assistant

Over time Celestia suppresses her magic enough so twilight is always by her side and runs errands for her

Celestia gave her a dragon egg so she could learn patience by waiting for it to hatch but she accidentally hatched it early and spike came out deformed with too many eyes and no wings

The story begins when twilight is sent to make sure everything runs smoothly for the summer sun celebration.

Mlp Twilight moon au:

Mlp but twilight is Luna's daughter

THIS IS EXTREMELY WIP!!!

Mlp A draconequus' element:

Similar to draconequus of friendship au

Twilight is a draconequus that was born from the chaos of discord's brief reign over equestria

In this world, powerful elements need powerful opposites, so the draconequus of order is born, twilight , being of order, she decides to settle down in the everfree forest, as without chaos she feels lost

She misses discord after he is defeated, he is fun to watch, and she decides to put a statue of him in her house

She finds Spike wandering the woods around the time when she hatches him in canon

Sunset Shimmer is celestia's student

Celestia decides to send sunset to a library in the town hosting the summer sun celebration so she can learn how to study away from her friends and parties and learn to organise by helping with the preparations

She is sent a week before hand

On the day sunset arrives, Twilight decides to put on a pony disguise and go into the market to get some food for spike

Ponys are apprehensive to serve her because of where she lives, but they see her every Friday, so they know she means them no harm and is simply buying food

Kipo mute AU:

Kipo grows up only knowing her mute side

Kipo's dad is horrified when he escapes his burrow and his little daughter turns into a tiny jaguar

He finds a new burrow and locks his daughter in his room, to protect her.

During an earthquake she escapes.

Monster falls AU

Basically a tweaked monster falls

Dipper seeks adventure, he finds a cursed lake, he falls in, he is never the same again.

The monster curse is passed by touch

Mabel = unicorn centaur

Dipper = deer centaur

Stan and Ford = were-bears

Wendy = were-wolf

Candy = lizard thing idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Grenda = rabbit shifter

Soos = merman

More to come...

Ml fantasy au

Go here for the explanation >> :)

That's it go home