#// insert the ''you're alone in a room with three men but you feel safe. Who are those men?'' post bc these 3 are the only correct answer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leandra-winchester · 1 year

Note

The proof is in the money that woman gives to fund anti trans legislation. You can look it up anywhere. You make a point of inserting yourself into conversations that are not about you. This is not about you. You do not know what it’s like to be trans. To you this is just discourse and “ha ha now people will unfollow me.” This is life and death to trans people. But you will never understand that. You will never have a relevant opinion here and it’s obvious that you are being willfully ignorant and furthering a cycle of abuse and violence against trans people. The very fact that you’re trying to make an argument about how people fake being trans to attack others only proves how ignorant you are. Shut your fucking mouth, terf, and try to remember not everything is about you.

You're adorable.

Firstly, yes, this is very much about me as I am a woman. Our rights have been infringed on over the past few years; many of our achievements on sex-based rights are being reverted or threatened by the current movement, so this IS about me.

Lesbians are being targeted for saying their sexual attraction does not include penis (and I know there are various definitions, and some may still identify as lesbian even if they make exceptions, which I fully support, but on the other hand I do NOT support bullying and name-calling because a vast majority of lesbians do not include people with penises in their dating pool).

Women's sport is being threatened by male athletes - and here you can listen to a great many female athletes who have continuously spoken against this, including Martina Navratilova - based on the notion that testosterone levels alone determine whether someone is physically superior to others or not, which is BS. Muscle and bone growth cannot be undone with estrogen; males have bigger hearts and more lung capacity, and so on. Which is why women in sports are repeatedly obliterated by biologically male athletes.

Are you showing any sort of understanding for those struggles? How come we need to listen and accept and tolerate everything you deem important and that you want, but nobody gives a crap about what we need and want in order to feel safe? How is that any kind of basis for human interaction?

And how is the argument that people are faking being trans in order to be able to abuse women proof of ignorance? You know these things are happening. Aside from the three prominent cases I listed in my last post, there are tons of videos of trans-identified males (I'm not calling them trans women because I don't believe that they are; they're AGPs, and actual trans women are not the issue!) being creeps in bathrooms and changing rooms, whacking out their dick, masturbating in front of women, attacking women verbally and physically for voicing their discomfort, and so on.

My dude, my sister, brother or gender-neutral sibling in Christ [atheistic], tell me who is being ignorant here. Who is outright dismissing documented facts that have vast implications on women's safety?

You cannot make an argument for one vulnerable group by completely throwing other vulnerable groups - including LESBIANS - under the bus. You cannot. This is not how it works. And it's gone too far.

And again with the hyperbole and baseless assumptions. Claiming some act of violence against trans people just because people want to implement safeguarding rules (only genuine trans people can get access to certain spaces; and the sex-based rights of women and girls need to be protected), while it is self-proclaimed trans activists, trolls and violent men who are shouting and threatening abuse to women.

Those safeguarding rules benefit trans people too. Many trans people say so. Many trans people do not want to be lumped in with those abusers, as I've said before, and rightfully so. They do not want to be put in the same category with people who have a fetish but experience no gender dysphoria, and with people who abuse the system in order to make women and girls (AND other trans people) feel unsafe.

YOU are wilfully ignoring that. YOU are ignoring voices from the very community you claim to protect. YOU are dictating which voices are allowed to have any kind of validity and which are not.

You're right in one thing. I do not know what it's like to be trans. But I have listened to many trans people. I have compassion for them, and I wish for them to get the best possible medical and psychological care they need to feel comfortable in their bodies; I wish for them to be free to choose whether they want their trans identity to be known or not; I, most of all, wish trans men would get even one ounce of the clout and support those (often fake) trans women are getting, but alas they're not. I want trans people to have safe spaces, too, and I want people who do commit violence against them to be punished by the law just as any kind of other perpetrator of violence; I want trans people not to be discriminated against on the basis of being trans, and I want them to live happily and safely. But I want that for girls and women too!

I don't think these things are mutually exclusive. At least they weren't before this whole thing started to spiral out of control and out of any basis of common sense.

#feminism #trans issues #trans activism

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Text

Sleep tight

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, home invasion, non-consensual drug use, allusion to kidnapping.

Words: 4163.

Summary: You know someone tried to break into your apartment, but no one believes you since you live in the very same building as famous Captain America. Who is willing to risk it?

P.S. Inspired by the Door Lock.

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You were coming back from work late again, carrying a paper bag with fresh chicken nuggets, French fries and two butter croissants you intended to leave for the morning. It was your little ritual - every time you worked long hours you went to buy some fast food afterwards instead of cooking youself a dinner. You had neither strength nor desire to spend your evening in the kitchen.

Funny, you thought, how many people were walking the same street as you, and you felt like you were alone in the whole world, nonetheless. Every day was exactly the same: you were waking up feeling groggy and exhausted, making youself coffee and leaving for work where you spent most of your time; you looked for excuses to stay late just because you didn't want to come back to your empty apartment where it was always eerie silent. Then you read some book you ordered from Amazon or Indigo, had a glass of water and went to sleep. Your life was like an endless limbo or a time loop.

Watching a few school girls giggling and taking out there cellphones and cameras, you sighed. That poor Steve Rogers living the same building as you had it much, much worse. At least you didn't have any crazy fans following you and making photos of your windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.

"Hey you there! What are you doing?" Someone's grumpy voice cut through the silence, and all those girls suddenly ran, laughing nervously and clenching their cameras.

It was one of your neighbors, a man in his 60s who was living two floors beneath yours, who walked to the building with a grocery bag in his hand.

"I swear to God next time I'm gonna take their phones and call their parents right away!" He grunted, shaking his bold head.

"I'll be there to give you a hand, Mr. Jones." You smiled at him, and he let out a chuckle, opening the door for you. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, dear."

Well, today wasn't that bad. Those girls couldn't do much harm. You remembered the day when you saw huge scary men dressed in black walking the corridor to Captain's apartment - it was way more frightening than a couple of silly students making photos of his balkony. But, regardless of how dangerous it could be to live so close to probably America's most famous superhero, the rent was doubled in a week and became three times higher in two months. You were lucky your landlady was a very compassionate woman who didn't raise the price immediately after he moved in this building.

Opening the door to your apartment with a key, you took off your shoes and put the bag on a little side table. God, you wanted to sleep so bad.

Barely eating a few nuggets you went to bed without opening the new book you bought.

The next morning you didn't feel much better, though. It was like you went to bed at 5 am instead of retiring early. Your mind was hazy. You were almost squiffy though you hadn't been drinking alcohol for a month or so.

Damn, you needed to do something about that lifestyle of yours. It was obviously unhealthy.

You spent one more day in the office doing useless work no one cared about. Coming back home felt as lonely as never before, and you almost cried in the dark before taking a hold of yourself and entering the building. There were no girls with the cameras today.

Laying on your bed, you stared at the glass of water on your nightstand. You didn't even remember refilling it in the morning. How much did you remember at all before arriving at work?

Oh no, you weren't going to live like that anymore. No more working overtime. No more fast food. No more weeping in your room with the lights off. You were a decent human being who didn't deserve to live like a recluse. Tomorrow evening you were going to dress up and go for a glass of wine in that little restaurant you were passing by every day. And in the weekend it would be good to give a call to your cousin and ask for a visit.

You hummed, looking at the clock glimming in the darkness of the room. It was already midnight, but you didn't feel even a bit sleepy. It was odd. Staring at the ceiling, you tried counting sheep but failed miserably after two hundreds. It was then when you heard someone's footsteps behind your door and chewed your lips. Was it Mrs. Abebe who lived next to you? She was never coming that late. Not that you remembered.

You were probably imagining things since the sound of footsteps died, but you didn't hear anyone opening the door or, in fact, moving at all. You were simply tired from all that stress.

That was what you were thinking when you heard someone inserting the key into your lock. You stilled, your eyes almost popping out of the sockets. What was happening? What was that?

Then the sound of the lock opening made you jump.

"Who is that?!" You screamed at the top of your voice and grabbed the lamp from your nightstand. "Who's there?!"

Then everything went silent once again, the door still closed in front of you. You couldn't hear any footsteps, couldn't feel anyone's presence just behind the door as if no one tried to force it open just a few seconds ago. You didn't know how much time you spent standing there, a heavy lamp in your hands to strike down the intruder, but no one had opened the door.

In the end, you clenched your teeth and slowly moved forward, pressing your ear to the cold metal - there were no sounds coming behind it whatsoever. Then you glanced through the peephole and saw only a row of doors just like yours. The stranger was gone.

You couldn't sleep after that, of course. You locked the door again, moved your heavy drawer to block it, and started calling the cops. Whoever was it, a thief or some creep, you didn't want to sit there and wait when someone gonna break into your apartment.

Police did nothing, of course. There were no cameras in the corridor to check whether someone was truly walking there, and, except that, they could help little with your situation. The camera outside showed no one entering the building, too.

In fact, they were so skeptical after hearing your story they almost made you cry. Why would anyone want to break in? You had pretty much nothing valuable except for a few gadgets and a little bit of money.

"No one would risk coming close to the place where Steve Rogers lives, ma'am," one of the cops informed you, irritated at your persistence. "You probably imagined it in your sleep."

No, you didn't. You heard it with your own ears, and no policeman could make you doubt that. You didn't care whether that freak was afraid of Steve Rogers, you just needed to be safe.

Next morning you didn't go to work. Instead you called a locksmith company and looked through all those smart lock that cost a fortune, but they were so much better than the pathetic one you had. The guy you were speaking to informed you that, actually, you story wasn't uncommon - New York was full of burglars. He calmed you down a bit by saying that it was probably some rookie who didn't ever hear about Captain America living in the same building.

The smart keyless lock you got installed was pricey but offered a great protection, the guy claimed. As you still shook from what happened earlier, you called your cousin, nevertheless, and went to live in her place for the whole week. Just thinking of what could happen to you that night brought you nightmares.

Who was that? What did that person need from you? Was he really hoping to get anything valuable without even knowing who lived there? Why did they come at night and not during the day when you were at work? God, you were scared to learn the answers.

You were no longer walking the streets alone as your kind cousin brought you to and off work, watching that no one was following you. It was a great relief to know there were no scary dudes around, but you couldn't be calm still. You barely slept at night.

Your cousin was too worried to let you go and live by yourself again even with the new lock installed, so you decided to stay with her for one more week. You just needed to get a few more things from your apartment since last time you left in haste. Of course, you didn't go there alone, your cousin and two of her male friends coming with you just in case something was to happen.

You screamed when you saw your new lock smashed to pieces, its black plastic parts laying on the floor right in front of your door.

This time police couldn't say anything about you imagining things, and the investigation had finally started. What scared you even more was that Mrs. Abebe had sweared the lock was in perfect condition when she returned home yesterday, and she didn't hear anything at all last night, a few other neighbors saying the same. No one knew how it happened and who could it be.

"But I just don't understand how could someone try this right under Captain's nose." One of the policemen huffed and puffed.

"Steven Rogers has been on a mission since last week." A woman said angrily, watching the guy with disgust. You vaguely remembered her name was Kate and she lived on the same floor as Steve. "Please don't tell me you need Captain America just to make you do your job."

With so many people expecting someone to break into their homes and fearing for their lives, it was easier to demand installing cameras in the corridors everywhere in the building. More than that, a few cameras were installed in your apartment too. A new biometric lock was now attached to your door, but you weren't sure it could keep you safe. It all felt unreal.

Of course, you were living with your cousin. She not only didn't protest against it, but refused to let you go anywhere at all. The only place you were still coming to was the office your worked in, and she was bringing you there and driving you home all the time.

The police said that the criminal didn't leave any fingerprints anywhere, and, most importantly, they didn't see any stranger entering the house the day your lock was smashed. It probably meant it was someone who stayed in the building. When they said that, Mrs. Abebe moved out the apartment the very same day and came to live with her son. You felt both pity and guilt. If you weren't there, she could live in that place peacefully like before.

Although the stranger didn't show up, the old policeman handling your case said something was very wrong there, he could feel it in his bones. This person wasn't a simple burglar, for sure. Although the policeman asked you to come back to your apartment - of course, under the watchful eyes of his team ready to defend you - to somehow provoke the criminal, you didn't agree. You valued your life too much to become a bait.

You just wanted to keep living with your cousin, especially when you were finally able to sleep again. You still felt groggy after, but you didn't consider it too important after all that happened to you.

However, you had to change your mind when one day you woke up and saw the toilet seat up. There was no man living at your cousin's place, and she didn't let anyone come over for a week at least.

The stranger had found you. He sneaked into the house all the same like before, but now it was also your cousin's life at stake, not just yours.

You cried and wept and prayed until you were a complete mess, your head heavy from the shouting. It wasn't a burglar who followed you - it was a stalker. The policemen were deeply concerned with the truth, but they gave you hope - stalkers rarely left their victim under such circumstances, and they were most certain they would capture the intruder the next time this psycho showed up.

You agreed to return to your old apartment. What else was there to do to keep your dear cousin safe?

It was as empty and silent as before, but now the atmosphere turned sinister. You were afraid to touch your own things, thinking of the sick bastard who touched them - the one who touched you in your sleep. No one had told you about it, but you were certain this person had been there with you many times before you caught him. Your routine had been very much the same during the whole year, and they knew it and used it to their advantage. Your stalker had seen you, touched you, done something to you. He was there all the time, and you didn't know. The cameras police installed showed everything that was happening in the apartment except for bathroom, so you tried to avoid going there as much as you could. Yes, you were on display all the time, but you weren't ashamed. You were ecstatic that cops were watching you every goddamn second.

When it was time to get to bed, you were too nervous. The police expected your stalker to show up, and although you had acquired the gun, you didn't feel safe even the slightest bit. Holding the heavy piece of metal in your shaking hand, you gulped down water from the glass and layed on the bed, watching the door. No one would hurt you. You had a gun, a group of cops waiting right next door, and your cousin who rented a room in a hotel next to your building. You were safe. You just had to stay awake before this sick motherfucker showed up.

But when he did, you slept very soundly with your head on the pullow, your gun on the bed sheets close to you.

When you woke up, that morning became your worst nightmare. Your gun was gone. The toilet seat was up again.

How outrageous you had been when you found out all your supposed guards had fallen asleep last night, drugged by something they didn't even know. Of course, there was nothing on the cameras. In fact, there were no cameras left in your apartment and the corridor whatsoever because your stalker had them all removed without even showing himself. How did they do it? What superhuman being did they had to be to twist both the police and you around their finger?

Well, maybe it was exactly the case. This intruder was too extraordinary. What if it wasn't you they were after? What if they were really trying to challenge Captain's America authority? And you were just unlucky enough to become a victim. You were picked most likely because you had a routine you had been following for a long time, and it made you an easy target. In the end, this intruder didn't rape you. He didn't hurt you. He didn't steal from you. He was coming to, what, lay close to you on the bed? Put up a toilet seat? No, it wasn't your attention he was after. He wanted to be acknowledged by the hero everyone was crazy about. Maybe he was like those girls who kept making the photos of Steve's balkony.

Once the realization hit you, everything became so much better. If he wanted the attention of Captain America, he would get it, Kate had assured you. How did she discover what was happening and how she could make him aware of your situation you didn't know, but soon those scary men dressed in black were walking the corridors of the building instead of policemen. Cameras were set up again while you were guarded at all times. Captain was returning tomorrow, you were told.

They wanted you to stay in the apartment, still. Actually, they clearly implied that you'd be put there regardless of your own wish because it was for the best. They were not some incompetent policemen, they said. You'd be protected regardless of what was going to happen to your stalker. This time you were ready to believe them - these guys looked like they could crack man's skull with just one hand - but your cousin insisted you had to do something, too. Funny enough, she gave you a teddy bear and told there's camera inside it. You could see everything it recorded with your phone.

Well, it couldn't hurt, could it? You placed the bear on one of the shelves just to make her feel better.

But nothing happened during the night. For some reason, you slept like a rock again, but there was no indication the intruder had been in your apartment. You called your new guards, and they confirmed everything was clear. They were confused with your sleeping habits, though. It was odd you could sleep so soundly during such moments.

Well, maybe that was it. Captain America was coming today, and now the intruder knew they were going to have his full attention. Maybe it was enough for them, and you would be set free after all those weeks of torture.

"I still can't believe he didn't show up last night." You said nervously and wiped your forehead with the back of your hand. "I know it's stupid, but I feel like someone's going to jump at me when I'll be leaving the building."

"It's not stupid." Your cousin sounded concerned. "You're the bravest person I've ever met. I'd ask all those guys to go fuck themselves if they wanted me to spend one more minute in that place."

"I know, I know." You forced a smile as if she could see you. "But nothing happened, you see? I really think that... person wanted Captain, not me."

"You can't know it for sure, honey. You have to be careful before they catch that motherfucker, ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. I promise."

"Good. I'm going to buy some food, so I'll give you a call in half an hour."

"Sure! Please take care too."

"Of course!"

She hung up, and you were left alone with your thoughts again. You stared down your phone, thinking about all the things that happened to you. You wanted to know who was doing it to you more than anything else. Who was that person? The police said it was most likely to be a man in his thirties. What was his name? How did he look? What made him do all these things to you? Did he mock you for your stupidity when you didn't even realize he was always so close to you all that time?

Rubbing your eyes, you thought of the cameras and that teddy bear sitting on a shelf. Suddenly, you got curious how you looked in your sleep, what that intruder saw when he entered your apartment late at night. You opened the app on your phone without a second thought and pressed your finger to the screen to see the recording.

It was peaceful. You didn't snore and didn't move on the bed, laying there as if you were dead. Your drool wasn't running onto the pillow, and you were oddly glad you almost looked like a sleeping beauty. Well, at least at night your face didn't look so tired.

Then you saw the door on your screen moving. You chocked on air, staring at the tall muscular man entering your apartment so carelessly like he lived here too. What was this? How could it happen? They said no one entered your apartment last night. They said no one was even close to your door!

The man was wearing a cap that didn't allow you to look at his face, a dark blue bomber and jeans flattering his muscular figure. He was even bigger than those men guarding you, and you gasped when he stared directly into the camera as if he knew there was one in the teddy bear your cousin brought. But nothing shocked you as much as the face of the stalker.

It was Steve Rogers, the very same Captain America everyone loved and respected. He took of his shoes quietly and then left his bomber on the rack. When he turned his face to the camera, he was smiling and walking closer to it slowly like a predator knowing its prey couldn't escape.

He took the stuffed animal in his hands and brought it closer.

"I'm so glad you're watching, honey."

You whimpered, a tear running down your face. No, it couldn't be true. It just couldn't. He was supposed to be the hero, not some deranged stalker ruining your life.

"Sorry for being later than usual, but you've made it a bit harder for me, you know that?" His smile was so sweet it could make you think he's talking to his fiancee, not some girl he was stalking for god knew how many months. "But don't worry, I'm not blaming you. I know it's been tough for you too, honey."

He glanced back at you sleeping on your bed and came closer to you. You held your breath and clamped a hand over your mouth in horror.

"It's actually my fault because I shouldn't be doing this before marrying you... but I just couldn't help myself. You're not mad at me, are you?" You realized he was laying down the bed with a teddy bear in his hand, and then you saw him kissing your forehead. "I know you're not. Thank you, sweetheart."

Looking at your phone with terrified and tearful eyes, you felt like you couldn't take it anymore, but something inside you forced you to keep watching when Steve had gently lowered the straps of your top and planted an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, massaging your breast. You wanted to drop the phone to the floor, to throw it out the window, to break it against the wall, yet all you did was gawking at the recording with watery eyes and sobbing. He was insane. You saw it in his eyes - he wasn't going to question his own actions. Steve Rogers was sure he did the right thing when he broke into your apartment.

"You probably gonna have some questions when you'll see the recording." He continued as he put the toy on the bed to make you see better all the things he was doing to you. "You have never woken up at night because I've been giving you some medicine, but don't worry, it's perfectly organic and doesn't do any harm to your body." You felt your stomach twisting. "Sometimes if you forgot to drink water from the glass I had to press a cloth dampened in chloroform to your face. I don't like doing it, so please remember to stay hydrated before going to bed, honey."

You wailed like a child, rubbing your eyes with one hand and having a phone in the other. Why was it happening to you? What had you done? You had never met Steve Rogers in the first place. How did he know about your mere existence?

"But I won't need to keep doing it since our honeymoon is so close. Once we get married, we won't have to do anything like that anymore. I know you're tired of waiting, and I'm sorry I couldn't make it earlier." He kissed the top of your head and inhaled the scent of your hair. "We'll be leaving tomorrow. As for tonight, you'd have to sleep alone, but I'll be right here with you, so please don't worry."

Confused, you saw him moving with the teddy bear in his hand - the man left your bed and put the straps of your top back on your shoulders, covering your body with a blanket. He kissed your cheek one last time before returning the stuffed animal to its place and putting his bomber and shoes back on, but then...

Then he layed down on the floor and got under your bed. Though you kept watching the recording, you saw nothing else before the sun rose and you started waking up finally. You played the video further on, but nothing was happening still except you walking out to meet those men who were supposed to keep you safe. When you came back, you ate your breakfast and called your cousin.

You dropped your phone on the bed and stared at your legs, shaking so much your knees were knocking together.

He was still waiting for you under your bed.

Part 2

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @lovelydarkdaydream

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #captain america #yandere

707 notes · View notes

joon-ipersgirl · 4 years

Text

O1 - "the intoxicating introduction”

genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, mystery-thriller

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: charismatic. beautiful. fearless without question. the ambitous team of seven young men in charge of spiral, downtown district’s hottest new club, go above and beyond to provide 100% satisfaction to their clients.

after an eventful night out, you have no choice but to join the team for property damages greater than your intern salary. challenging a series of events that can no longer be left to coincidence, secrets threaten to burst at the seams as your professional and private life collide, and another - more sinister - debt is added to your total.

how far are you willing to go to pay back your pound of flesh? remember, nothing is ever as it seems...

word count: 2.4k

warnings: cursing, harassment from man in club (not a member), mild mentions of alcohol drinking

a/n: my first fic in years! it feels great to be writing again and i hope you guys enjoy the story. this part is a little slow, but the next part picks up fast. as mentioned, the fic is currently in progress and i will update as soon as i can and am able to. as always, feedback is appreciated and welcomed. thank you to @alversia for being my editor-in-chief and to you all for reading. enjoy!

full masterlist // series masterlist // next

You’re looking forward to a nice night out. It had been a long, rough week at the office and all you wanted to do was sit at a bar and sip on an Old Fashioned, your favorite drink. James had forgotten to submit his report on time which meant that your files were out of order, but of course, you were the one to be reprimanded. You had never seen a set of people more incompetent. It still surprises you that the company had managed to stay afloat this long when all of its workers seem determined to see it fail.

Dressed in a short, black dress and matching black heels, your oversized leather jacket slung over your shoulders, you know you look good. The change of clothes giving you an additional boost of confidence; you’d wanted to be as far away from office worker you as possible. The breeze is cool as you step out of the taxi and stand in front of Spiral, a club you had heard about at work. The reviews were generally positive and you hope that your coworkers’ judgment of fine establishments is much better than their ability to actually submit their files on time.

Shrugging off the jacket in the warmth of the club as you head down the stairs to the bar, you're careful not to trip. Spiral is crowded. Bodies cling together like wet clothes on a body and your lip turns up in disgust. The thumping music encourages them to bump and grind, making it hard for you to pass through. You hate being close to people and you hate clubs almost as much as you hate people, but that Old Fashioned is calling your name. You dig your elbows into the sides of strangers with a new sense of purpose until you finally break free on the other side of the dance floor - your safe haven: a bar stool.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks you as you plop onto the seat, slightly exasperated. You lay your jacket and purse across your lap as you try to get some air to flow into your lungs. Damn the rest of these people out on a Friday night.

“An Old Fashioned, please,” you sigh out. The hair at the base of your skull is sticking to your neck and you pull it into a makeshift knot in an attempt to cool down.

“ID?” Rolling your eyes, you rummage through your purse for the piece of plastic.

“Just a routine check. You can never be too careful,” he says with an apologetic smile. He returns it to you and you give him a tight-lipped smile as a thank you.

He sets your drink down in front of you on a square napkin and leaves to tend to other patrons. Watching him move around the small space with ease, you wonder how he does it so easily when his broad shoulders take up so much room. Like yours, his jet-black hair is pressed against his forehead as the heat from the club steadily rises. You could see why he was a bartender, his face better looking than most guys you would see walking down the street. Hell, even better than some of the models with their three-page catalog spread. One could even call him handsome. You’re sure his high cheekbones help with his tips. You sip your drink slowly, welcoming the smooth burn as you swallow. They might call it an old man’s drink, and shit, maybe that’s who you are now, but it sure did its job well. Just like you.

“Excuse me?” You glance over your shoulder. “Are you here alone?”

He was a tall man with average features and a nice smile. Definitely not as good looking as the bartender, but not bad on the eyes either. He looked like a regular company worker that sat at his desk hunched over his keyboard, eyes glued to the screen as he crunched numbers or filled out progress reports. You’re only speculating because of the slight curve in his spine as he leans over to be heard over the music in addition to the almost permanent crease of his shirt just above his belt.

“Depends on who’s asking,” you say. You take another sip of the brown liquor, swirling it slowly.

“Jay. Jay Smith.” He sticks his hand out for you to take. You look down at it and back up at him.

“Sounds like a fake name to me,” you tell him. You don’t take his hand.

“I get that often,” he says with a chuckle.

“I’m sure you do,” You murmur, turning away from him. You could tell that he hadn’t moved.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Already have one,” you say, annoyed.

“Well, after that one?” he asks.

“No, I’m not interested,” you tell him.

“Well, can you at least tell me your name?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Though he’s growing visibly agitated and you know you should care, you don’t. You’re just as annoyed as he was, if not more so. He was just another sleazy corporate leech who thought he could intimidate you and you weren’t having it. Apparently, neither was he as he grabs your upper arm sharply.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he growls in your ear.

“You’re hurting me. Let go,” you tell him sternly.

“Don’t tell me what to do, bitch.” He yanks you further out of the chair and you grimace from the pain.

“Do we have a problem over here?” You look to your left and there stands a short man with a very grim expression etched onto his face.

“Mind your fucking business,” the man grabbing you sneers and pulls you closer to him.

“You’re in my club. It is my fucking business.” The coldness in his voice sends a wave of nerves through your belly. You continue to try and pull your arm from the other man’s grasp to no avail. Tears are welling in your eyes as you were sure he was leaving fingerprint sized bruises along your arm.

“Jin!” the shorter man yells over the noise of the blaring music and jerks his head towards you. You realized he’s talking to the bartender. Within a few seconds, Jin has made his way around the bar and is snatching the man off of you. Cradling your throbbing arm, you let out a cry of relief. You watch as another man - you assume the security guard - comes barging through the crowd to assist Jin in throwing the man out. Were all the men who worked here attractive?

“Come on. I’ll get you some ice for your arm,” the short man says and holds out his hand. You grab it and your things and let him pull you through the semi parted crowd who watch the two of you pass with mild curiosity.

You both climb a set of wrought iron spiral stairs to the second floor. There are fewer people here and you assume it caters to those who were considered VIP. Booths lined the opposite side of the walkway with thick black curtains closing off those inside from the rest of the world. You glance over the railing and see Jin heading back to the bar while chatting to the man who had helped him, the two of them sharing a laugh. The rest of the partygoers had shaken off their mild concern over your incident and were back to dancing in the middle of the floor. Continuing further down the walkway, the two of you stop in front of a large leather-covered door. The mint-haired man in front of you pulls out a key, inserts it, and pulls you through.

As he closes the door behind you, you take in the small office space. Bookcases lined an exposed brick wall from floor to ceiling. A fully stocked bar is opposite that while a small table and two chairs sit in the middle of the room. Across the room is a large wooden desk and one of those fancy office chairs that seemed to be covered in the same leather as the door you had just come through. What really catches your attention though is the man sitting in that chair behind the desk.

His silver hair glistens almost as brightly as the silver rings covering his fingers. His expression is one of boredom, but his eyes are beautiful. Feet kicked up on the desk, he reclines back in ease as he scrolls through his phone. He didn’t seem to care that you were in the room and you felt like you had intruded on him when you remember that this was supposed to be the mint-haired man’s office.

“A snack? Suga, you shouldn’t have.”

“Get out, Min.” Your escort walks past you towards the fridge. Min feigns a hurt expression and presses his hand to his heart.

“Out? But Suga, we have a guest. Don’t you want to intro-”

“No. Get out.” Suga’s tone is final and you feel the conversation shut down as quickly as Suga had appeared by your side downstairs. Min rolls his eyes and gets up. The chair squeaks in protest of being vacated so abruptly.

“Fine. Always ruining my fun,” he huffs. As he crosses the room, your breath catches in your throat at just how stunning this man is up close. Clearly the alcohol was getting to you because there was no way, again, that all the men here are this beautiful.

“Have fun, darling,” he coos at you, his fingers brushing across your arm and his eyes mischievous.

“I’m not here for that!” I call after him, but it falls on deaf ears as he is already through the door. The sound of it closing cuts off his laughter. Heat rises in your cheeks and you bite your tongue from embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s always like that. Sit,” Suga commands.

You sit in the chair he had gestured to and he sits across from you, handing you the makeshift ice pack: a couple of ice cubes wrapped up in some flimsy paper towel. The cooling sensation is welcomed though and you slump back into the chair grateful. Suga watches you carefully and you shift slightly under his gaze remembering how much more exposed you are in your dress than your everyday outfit. You notice his lips are thinner than the other two men, but his eyes hold the same intensity as they continue to watch you.

“Suga? What kind of name is that?” You question, breaking the silence. Though his hair is the color of your favorite ice cream, his demeanor is anything but sweet.

“Nickname,” he responds shortly. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened tonight. Whatever you ordered is on the house and the next time you come back, that’ll be free too. We try not to let dickheads in, but I guess this one slipped through the cracks.” He mumbles the last part to himself.

“I would have ordered more drinks had I known they were going to be free.” He laughs. “I didn’t even get to finish that one,” You say with a frown.

“What were you drinking?” he asks.

“An Old Fashioned.” He raises his eyebrows at me.

“Yeah, yeah I know. It’s an old man’s drink or whatever. They’re good and I enjoy them,” you say with a shrug. He laughs again and gets up.

“I’ll make you another one before you go. How’s your arm?”

“There’ll be bruises, but I guess I’ll live.” You observe him pour the whiskey into a glass filled with ice before adding an orange peel. Taking it from him, you gulp down almost half of it to soothe the ache in your arm.

“Take your time.” You roll your eyes at his comment as the phone on his desk rings and he goes to answer it, cutting your conversation short.

As he continues his call, you toss the melting stack of paper towels into the trash while admiring the impressive view from the large windows. The city always looks beautiful at night and as a raging insomniac, it was a comforting sight to see even when the sun rolled up over the skyline. You sigh as you think about the journey you would have to take to get home. At least you didn’t have work tomorrow. Just as you’re tossing back the rest of your drink, Suga asks you if you’re ready to go. You nod and he escorts you back to the narrow walkway you had first crossed.

“Are Jin and Min brothers or something? Why are their names so similar?” Suga only laughs at you as he guides you down the slippery stairs. Though it is much later in the evening, Spiral is just as crowded as when you first came. You glance up at the DJ booth and wonder how long he had to stay for, feeling sorry for him. On your second glance, you spot Min dancing next to him and your sympathy grows further.

Suga stops at the exit and you turn to him.

“Remember, next time drinks are on us. Get home safe kid.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re the same age,” you say, squinting at him. “Thank you though. For what you did.” He waves his hand as if to dismiss your comment.

“Gotta keep the customers happy, right?” You laugh and nod. “Alright then.” He nods to himself and you watch his mint-colored head disappear into the crowd.

You laugh to yourself at his nonchalance and manage to tug on your leather jacket with some mild difficulty. As you ascend the stairs while searching for your phone to call a taxi, you bump into another man. He grabs your upper arms to stop you from falling backward and you let out an anguished cry.

“Shit! Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” You can barely make out his features from the tears welling in your eyes.

“My arm, you fucking dickhead,” you groan as the dull throbbing returns tenfold. As he reaches for you again, you swat his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

With the most coordination you can manage after a drink and a half of whiskey, you push past him and head up the stairs. Were you that small that people couldn’t see you coming? Clutching your bruised arm with one hand and your phone in the other, you manage to hail a taxi on the street corner. It would be a miracle if you made it home in one piece. So much for a nice night out.

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#bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon angst #fic: double entendre #slow burn

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