#ciara watches only friends

[bisexualboysbroadcast]

I wonder if cheum has told ray and mew that her brother lied. or is that information just being kept aside for convenience✌🏽

[littlespoonevan]

genuinely think i would make a killing on youtube doing wardrobe organisation/clear outs

[call-me-little-sunshine84]

Last Call

Patrick "Paddy" Feld (Speak No Evil) x female reader

MDNI - 18+

pairing - Paddy x female reader

summary - working at a small pub, you meet a sexy mystery man. He's just another customer - until he's not

w/c - 1400+

t/w - unprotected sex, Paddy is a tiny bit rough (he's a trigger warning by himself), mirror play?

a/n - not sure what it says about me that this morally bankrupt character is the one who broke me out of my year+ long writer's block, but here we are. For the purposes of this, reader has no idea what Paddy gets up to in his spare time

Starting over was such a pain in the ass. You never pictured that you would be here, 30 and divorced. It had come as such a surprise that your head was still reeling. Deciding on a clean break, you had packed up your belongings, taking little more than the essentials and your beloved cat, and set off, leaving everything and everyone you knew behind.

Settling in a little village in the West Country, you found yourself adjusting to your new life a lot easier than you expected. The pace was so much slower there compared to the city, and you quickly found a job bartending in a small pub. You loved working nights, listening to the stories exchanged by the locals. You mainly dealt with the same group of regulars, and their welcoming attitude was helping you to come out of your shell.

You had first noticed him come in late one Saturday night. He was the kind of man who commanded everyone’s attention. He was loud and outspoken, his voice and laughter carrying throughout the room. You overheard some of the other customers call him Paddy.

You were immediately attracted to him, his demeanor so different from your ex that it was intoxicating. He always flirted with you, but you never took it to mean anything since he was that way with everyone. The more you were around him though, the more he began to consume your thoughts. Picturing the way those muscular arms would feel wrapped around you, how his stubble would feel against your thighs when he was between your legs…

There was just one problem - he was married. His wife was always with him. She actually seemed really nice, which only served to make you feel more guilty about the amount of time you spent fantasizing about her husband. That’s all it ever could be though - you might be a lot of things, but you weren’t a homewrecker. You and your vibrator had become best friends. You could at least have him in your head, right?

Maybe that was why you were so flustered when you realized that this particular night he came in alone. “Hey Paddy, what can I get you?” you asked, trying to keep your expression neutral. It was becoming harder and harder to be around him, and you didn’t know what to do about it. “Surprise me,” he replied, watching you as you poured him a drink and slid it over.

“Where’s Ciara?” you asked. An expression you couldn’t quite judge crossed his face before he replied. “She’s not feeling well and decided to stay home.” Your heart sped up at the thought that you could spend time with him alone. And you did - when you weren’t busy with someone else, Paddy kept you entertained with endless stories and conversation. The other patrons began paying their tabs and heading for the exit. Realizing that just you and he were left in the building, you checked your watch. You couldn’t believe the time.

“Last call. Can I get you anything else?” you asked as you dried the glass in your hand. The old jukebox in the corner was belting out Black Velvet. It was a little too perfect. He looked at you, his expression suddenly serious. “I do want something else, but it’s a little off-menu. “What on earth are you talking about?” you asked, having no idea where this was going.

“Darlin’, what I want is you .” Your stomach felt like it dropped out of your body. Is this really happening?? “B-b-but what about Ciara?” you stammered, barely able to string a sentence together. “It’s fine, occasionally we dine out. Helps keep it fresh. She doesn’t care,” he replied, standing and walking his way behind the bar toward you.

You couldn’t hear the music anymore, just the deafening sound of your heartbeat pounding. He stood in front of you, and your brain froze. All you could think was that he smelled so damn good, so manly, and it made your mouth water.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. I think you want this as much as I do,” he said. The look on his face was half smile, half cocky smirk, and it made you want to rip his clothes off. Instead, you just nodded, throwing the towel you were holding to the side. Quickly making sure the door was locked and flipping over the closed sign, you returned to him.

He leaned in, tracing his fingertips down your jawline, kissing you slowly at first. You could taste the alcohol on his breath. Backing you up against the bar top, you could see the lust in his eyes. He looked almost hungry.

The heat inside you was already building as his tongue licked a line down your collarbone. Throwing your tank top off to the side, he traced the lace edge of your bra and groaned. “Mmmm, so beautiful darlin’,” he said, unhooking it and throwing it behind you to land on a bottle of whiskey. The chill in the air immediately hardened your nipples, which he took turns taking inside his warm mouth. Your brain felt like cotton candy, all coherent thoughts leaving you as he expertly sucked and bit at you.

Removing the last of your clothes, you stood bare before him. “This seems a little one sided, Paddy,” you teased as you stripped him of everything he had on. Once he was also naked and you really looked at him, you sucked in a breath. He was even more gorgeous than you thought possible.

He wasted little time with foreplay, turning you around and bending you over a nearby stool. He teased your entrance, but you didn’t think anything could prepare you for his size. He took his time, letting you adjust to the sweet stretch of him filling you up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hands resting on your hips. You nodded, and then all bets were off. He slammed into you, fully enveloping himself in your warmth. “Damn, you’re so tight,” he grunted as he worked your body over. “S-s-s-sorry, it’s been a while,” you managed to choke out between thrusts. “Feels so fucking perfect,” he replied, his hands roaming all over you. You could already feel that familiar pressure building in your abdomen, impending bliss already blooming inside you.

One hand gripped your breast and the other reached up and wrapped around your throat. Applying slight pressure, he pulled your upper body taut. There was a giant mirror behind the bar. “I want you to look up. Watch yourself while I fuck you,” he whispered in your ear. Fingertips dug into your throat just a little tighter, riding that fine line between pleasure and pain, and you did just that.

You didn’t recognize the version of yourself you saw in the mirror’s reflection. Disheveled hair, sweat beginning to drip down your face, you looked happy for the first time in a long time.

“Paddy,” you moaned, bucking your hips back into him even harder. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, you’re going to watch me make you cum,” he growled.

You had never felt more exposed, or more aroused. Your ex would never have dared to talk to you this way during sex. Paddy was unlocking some primal side to you, and you were loving every minute. His hand moved away from your throat, allowing you to breathe fully again. He started rubbing slow circles on your clit. Contrasting with the fast pace at which he was still thrusting into you, it felt like all your nerve endings were on fire. You felt yourself about to tip over the edge. Still watching your reflection in the mirror, your orgasm washed over you in a wave. “That’s my girl. You look so beautiful when you’re coming undone,” Paddy said, fucking you through your high. While you were still clenching around him, he also came, filling you full.

Almost collapsing against the bar top, your body felt like jelly. He slowly pulled himself out of you. He threw his pants back on and retrieved your scattered clothes, handing them to you. “I’ll never be able to look at this place the same way again,” you said, cheeks burning as you glanced at the mirror behind him.

“So, same time next week?” he asked with a wink. That familiar heat started to build just thinking of the possibilities. You watched him walk toward the door, his jeans hugging him in all the right places. “I’ll be here.”

[billysgun]

BILLY THE KID · requests are open! ·

sharpshooter

|fluff| billy takes you shooting

. . .

cherries

|smut| you and billy lose your virginity to each other

. . .

warm waters

|fluff|you and billy enjoy your new calm life with a hot bath

. . .

bandage

|fluff| after you found him wounded, you took him back to your house where you healed a very flirty billy.

. . .

teasing

|smut| being on the road means no privacy, and billy takes that risk with you against a random barn

. . .

hand holding

|smut| your perfect first time with billy as he passionately and softly shows how much he loves you

. . .

smitten

|fluff|billy is still love-sick for you with your new domestic life and baby boy

. . .

obscene

|smut|billy loses all control once he tastes you and vows to never leave your side

. . .

spinning

|fluff|billy isn’t afraid to sing his heart out to the girl he loves as he spins her around the kitchen

. . .

flowers

|fluff|you sit in a field of flowers with your baby girl as billy rides around his two favorite girls

. . .

baby making

|smut|you and your husband try for a baby as he slowly makes love to you at the break of dawn

. . .

chasing

|fluff| since you got pregnant, billy has been on edge for your well-being, so you decide to toy with him a little

. . .

jealously

|fluff|during a party for the house, you catch girls flirting with billy and can’t stand it, little do you know, billy feels the same way when he finds you talking to one of the members

. . .

lessons

|fluff| you watch your husband give your daughter her first horse riding lesson while you cheer with your newborn boy on your chest

. . .

kicking

|fluff| billy is making you breakfast, wondering how he got so lucky with you when your baby starts kicking

. . .

saving

|angst|billy comes and saves you when you’re kidnapped and beaten by a rival gang

. . .

sleepy

|smut| after a long day, the gang stops at a boarding house where billy sleepily fucks you

. . .

whiskey · pt 1

|fluff|you’re the daughter of billy’s boss, you’re filthy rich and had eyed billy a while ago. and this night, you decided to follow him to the saloon.

liquor · pt 2

|smut| billy finds himself undressing the richest girl in town, and decides to teach her a lesson

. . .

mornings

|fluff| a slow morning with your newborn and husband

. . .

sneaking

|fluff| on a cloudy morning, you and billy sneak behind the barn to steal kisses from each other

. . .

birth

|stress + fluff|billy tries to talk you through giving birth while you wail in immense pain

. . .

your girl

|fluff| Ciara is a childhood friend turned lover one drunken night…he lives with the consequences daily and now, with his eyes set on you, you do too.

. . .

lone prairie

|fluff|billy softly sings you to sleep while running his fingers through your hair

. . .

gingerbread

|fluff|It’s christmas day and you’re panicking to make the perfect gingerbread men…while Billy goofs and teases around you

. . .

breathtaking

|spicy fluff| the house is throwing a party and you, a cowgirl with only a father and too many brothers to count, shows up in a breathtaking dress

. . .

loyal · pt 1

|angst| during the fight against murphy, you find out you’re pregnant with billys child, and now you see where his loyalties lie

forgiveness · pt 2

|fluff|billy finds you after you ran from the gang, and falls apart in your arms

. . .

caress

|fluff|billy slowly brushes his fingers through your hair as you start to drift off into sleep

. . .

ache

|fluff|billy cuddles you to help with your cramps

. . .

quiet

|smut|you and billy have sex for the first time since the birth of your baby girl, and you have to keep your needy moans quiet so she won’t wake

. . .

bite · pt 1

|spicy fluff| vampire!billy has been watching you for a while now. and one night at the saloon, you decide to meet your shadow

blood · pt 2

|smut|you become irresistible to vampire!billy after he claims you, and he can’t seem to control himself when around you

crave · pt 3

|fluff|as you walk home with billy by your side, you run into another vampire and billy protects you

eternity · pt 4

|fluff ending|as billy feasts on you, he unknowingly turns you into a vampire

. . .

braid

|fluff|billy helps relax you and your growing baby by braiding your hair before bed

. . .

bad dream

|comfort|billy holds you after a nightmare about him dying

. . .

limp

|fluff|you falling asleep in billy’s arms

. . .

run away

|fluff| you run away with billy from your disapproving father

THE HUNGER GAMES

· finnick odair ·

sponsors

|fluff| you're allying with finnick during the quarter quell when a sponsor sends a delicious sauce for the fish finnick caught.

TWILIGHT· requests are open! ·

· edward cullen ·

woven

|fluff|edward sneaks into your bedroom like always. but this time, you ask him to hold you

[princessbrunette]

heyy girl this is kinda random but, do you have any like “girly song” recs?? you just give me that vibe and i’ve been looking for songs like that but can only find a few!! i’m coming to you instead of any of my friends because i trust your taste more😭🫶🏽

aweee fun !! yes of course ♡ when i think of girly songs i think of:

chappell roan — pink pony club, hot to go

amaarae — princess going digital

pinkpantheress — attracted to you

summer walker — baby

kelly rowland — kisses down low

lana del rey — music to watch boys to

lady gaga — boys boys boys

foxy brown, kelis — candy

cassie — long way 2 go, ditto

the la’s — there she goes

pearly drops — bloom for me

heidi montag — i’ll do it

miss luxury — tipsy

kali uchis — honey baby (spoiled!), only girl, melting

fergie— clumsy

madonna — material girl

ciara — g is for girl

jarline— potion

ariana grande — daydreaming

victoria monét — new love

amerie— 1 thing

[dbnightingale24]

React

A Stepcest Love Story About Jim

~~

~~

Chapter 1

See? I'm actually updating in a non-annoying time frame.

Word Count: 4,958

Warning: Swearing, Family Drama, Stepdaughter/Step Father interest, Drinking, Drinking Relapse, Minors DNI, Emotional Cheating, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn, Flirting...I think that's it.

Summary: Things become more intimate between you and Jim.

~~

I do not give permission/consent for my stories/works to get posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior/relationship, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

~~

Chapter 2

“Why don’t you want to go tonight?” your best friend, Ciara, asks you take a seat next to her on the sofa, and you both watch Nora play on the floor. 

“Why do you want to go so bad? You hate her,” you laugh.

“Be that as it may, your Mum knows how to throw a party, and she seems to want you to go pretty damn bad.”

“Eh, she probably just wants to make up for embarrassing herself in front of her new husband,” you mutter with an eye roll.

“That’s the other thing! I wanna see your hot new step daddy,” she smirks mischievously, and you burst out laughing. 

“I thought you and Darragh are trying to make a go of it?”

With a shrug, she simply responds with, “I didn’t say I’d touch, I just wanna look.”

“You’re a fuckin’ mess,” you laugh as your phone buzzes for the millionth time. “Fuckin’ hell,” you groan, checking another text from your Mother.

Life Giver: Jim and I would really like it if Ciara and you came tonight. We’re gonna have so many friends...it’ll be good for us.

Since the fiasco that was you coming home two weeks ago, your Mother has been doing her best to get on your good side, and has only blamed her “blowup” on you a handful of times.

For her, that’s growth.

In all honesty, you’re not even mad at her, you’re just not in the mood for any of her theatrics. You already know how the rest of the Summer will play out if you give in and forgive her but, at the same time, she does have Jim now. The last thing she wants to do is make a fool of herself again. He seems like the kind of man who’s finally giving her the life she wants, and she’ll kill herself before she fucks that up.

“C’mon, maybe it’ll be fun,” Ciara encourages, pulling you from your thoughts.

“You just want free booze.”

“Well, there’s also that,” she agrees with a laugh. “Darragh is picking up Nora, and he’ll have her for the week. So, if this party sucks, I’ll have the rest of the week to make it up to you,” she promises with pleading eyes. 

“Do you really think it’ll be worth it?”

“Y/M/N is a lot of things, but a bad party thrower is not one of them.”

She had you there. For all of the faults your Mother has, she’s always been able to throw a party that people talk about for months. It’s one of the perks about having a young Mother. She had you when she was 16, and the second you were out of her, she went right back to partying. She may be turning 40, but you’re more than sure she still knows how to throw a party. 

“We’ll go for an hour, and then we’ll go dancing,” you smirk as Ciara lets out a squeal of delight.

Picking up your phone, you’re quick to respond to your Mother and let her know that you Ciara will come by for a little bit before going out.

“Darragh will be here in about an hour, so I’m gonna get Nora’s bag together, and we’ll get outfits together after they leave.” “How’s that going by the way? Where do you two stand?”

“I don’t know. It was a nasty and we can both still be pretty nasty to one another, and we don’t wanna raise Nora around that. We were so young when we had her, no clue what we were doin’, and we blamed each other. However, the love is still strong and we’ve ended up in each other’s beds more times than either of us can count. I don’t know, it’s hard but we’re trying. My parents aren’t happy.”

“Your parents put you out, who gives a fuck what they think?”

“I don’t know, they’ve been asking to come around and see Nora more, we’ve had a few talks and they apologized...they were disappointed in me-”

“My grandparents were disappointed in my Mum, but they didn’t put her out, and they sure as shit didn’t leave me alone to fend for myself. I’m glad you’re working things out with them, but I still don’t forgive them.”

“Babe, could this be some leftover anger towards your parents?”

“Nah, I’m just tired of shit parents. We get stuck with the suffering, and then we’re just supposed to forgive ‘em like it’s nothin’, and it’s not fair. You got top marks, there’s not a single person who can find somethin’ negative to say about you, and you’ve always been honest with them. Even when it was hard. You do one thing they don’t like and they put you out. Now, after the damage has been done, they’re ready to talk. Even if you actually want nothing to do with them, you’re not going to deny Nora the chance to have a relationship with them. They mess everything up and you’re the one stuck with cleaning it up.”

“I didn’t say it was any easy talk,” she mutters, running a frustrated hand through her hair, “there was a lot of yelling and crying. You’re not wrong in what you’re saying.”

“Even with my Mum, the argument we’re having is my fault. It can’t be that she lied to Jim, it’s my fault because I ruined the lie she set up.”

“What exactly did she tell him?”

“She told him she doesn’t drink that much, that she and I have always had a really great relationship but I made her take a backseat for school, and she doesn’t blame me for it-” “You’re serious?”

“Yup, and she told him that I’m not good with young kids, that’s why she’s been anxious for me to meet his.”

“You’re great with kids!”

“But this is my fault. I’m just tired of shitty parents. Why is always our job to be the ones to clean up after them?”

“Well, lets get little miss ready for her Father, then we’ll get ready to go,” she smiles as she picks up Nora, who claps and laughs at her Mother. “Like you said, we’ll go for a bit then we’ll go out.”

Smiling as you take Nora from her, you nod in agreement, “sounds good to me.”

Being the paranoid Mother shes always been, Ciara takes her time packing, double and triple checking everything as you dance around with Nora. By the time Darragh arrives, she’s packing the bag for the fourth time.

Laughing as he takes Nora from you, he assures her, “I’m sure you packed everything.”

 “We’re going out tonight and I don’t want you to have to come back because I left one of her comfort toys out. She’s been really fussy lately, and it really helps.”

“She has toys at my house too, love. It’ll be fine. What’s going on tonight?”

“My Mum’s birthday party.”

“You’re talking to her?”

“She won’t leave me alone about it, so I figured we’ll just go for a bit, then go to the Pub or something.”

“Don’t hit her.”

“She hit me!” you groan as he starts laughing. “Take good care of my goddaughter.”

He smiles as he starts to bounce her in his arms, promising, “only the very best.”

He’s quick to give Ciara a kiss before rushing out, and she bites her lip to fight off a smile.

“So uh, when’s the last time you two ended up in each other’s bed?”

“Last Saturday when I went to pick up Nora.”

“I hear chaotic wedding bells.”

“Lets get ready!” she laughs, pulling you up the steps along with her.

Getting ready proves to be harder than you can you imagine, because you truly have no idea what to wear. You haven’t been to one of your Mother’s parties in over a year, and you don’t want to overdress, and you also don’t want to under dress. 

Plus, there’s Jim. Your stepfather.

You’re so anxious about seeing him again, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve only met him the one time, but he left a lasting impression. You honestly don’t know why it matters so much, because it’s not like he’s anything to you. Yes, by marriage he’s your stepfather, but what the hell do you need one of those for? As far as you’re concerned, you’ve only ever had one father figure and he was your grandfather. Once he died, you didn’t need anyone else. You didn’t trust anyone else. 

You take about 20 minutes going back and forth between your favorite plaid mini-skirt, and your favorite black denim shorts, before Ciara finally took the reins and decided for you. She dresses you up in the plaid mini-skirt, your old ‘Siouxsie & The Banshees’ t-shirt that you stole from your Mother when you were 13, and black combat boots.

Looking yourself over in the mirror, you ask, “do you really think this is alright?”

“It’s the best of both worlds, babe. We’ll do your hair up in simple little space buns, and you’re all set.”

“Why do you always know how to dress me better than I dress myself?”

“Because you overthink every little thing,” she laughs as she sits you down and parts your hair. “I’m really happy we re-dyed your hair. The blue blends perfectly with the black. These buns are gonna look amazing!”

“Maybe leave a strand down on either side. That’ll look nice.”

“Now we’re talking!” she squeals.

As you start working on your makeup, your thoughts slowly start to calm down. You’re overthinking for no reason. You’d both had a long day, drinks were had, and you were both tired. No more no less. Once you see him again, and feel nothing towards him, you’ll see that all of your worrying is for nothing.

You hope.

~~

“How is it that your Mum always has a house full of people, and never runs out of booze? What was point of bringin’ the whiskey?” Ciara gripes as you two make your way inside.

“Cause, it’s her birthday and you’re supposed to bring a gift.”

“And what, might I ask, did she get you for your birthday?”

“Peace and bloody quiet.”

Ciara laughs and nods in agreement, “the best gift she could ever give you, honestly.”

“GIRLS!” your Mother’s voice rings out as she stumbles out of the living area.

Ciara scowls as she covers her face, “Christ on a bike.”

“Shes had to been drinking since morning,” you mutter with a smile as your Mother finally reaches the both of you and sloppily hugs you both.

The party started an hour ago.

“Happy birthday!” you beam, hugging her back. “We brought whiskey.”

“Not as if she needs it,” Ciara mutters and you stomp on her foot.

You’ll be dammed if an argument breaks out just as soon as you’ve arrived.

“Jim’s in the kitchen talking with Rose. Come and say hi!” she slurs excitedly, grabbing your hand and dragging you along with her, and your quick to latch onto Ciara and pull her along.

Not surprisingly, Rose is standing a little too close to Jim, but you know she won’t actually act on anything. For as much as you’ve never liked Rose, she’s most loyal friend your Mother has. They’ve been friends since they were 8, and wherever there’s an adventure, you’ll find them together and ready to engage.

Rose gushes once her eyes land on you, “there’s our girl!”

“Hey Aunt Rose.”

“And you brought Ciara! It’s been so long since I’ve seen the both of you!” she practically screams, engulfing you both in a tight hug. Clearly just as drunk as your Mother.

Your Mother pulls the bottle of Ciara’s hands as she comments, “I’ll take this and make you two drinks! I’m so happy you’re both here!”

Well, at least she’s having a good birthday.

“So, any big news? Anything happenin’ back at school? Any boys? Any jobs lined up after?” Rose questions off at rapid fire once she finally lets go of you and Ciara.

“Oh, uh, well I’m just-” “Hold that thought! I see Amy!” she squeals before running off.

“Is everyone fuckin’ drunk already?!” Ciara exclaims, gaining a small laugh from Jim.

“Well, Y/M/N has been up since 10, so she started drinking at 10:01.”

“Ah, you’re learning fast,” you giggle.

“Yeah, she wasn’t like this last year for any of the parties she threw. She drank, but it was actually during the party.”

“Just you wait till I finish school.”

Ciara snickers and shakes her head, “God, that’s gonna be so much fun, and we won’t remember a thing.”

“Right you are,” you laugh in agreement. “Jim, this is Ciara, my best friend since grade school. Ciara, this is Jim, my Mother’s new husband.”

“So you’re the hot stepdad? I get it, I completely understand,” she nods, slowly taking him in, as you burst out laughing and Jim becomes visibly flustered. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hot stepdad, eh?” he nods towards you.

“Words were said,” you shrug with a smirk as your Mother finally makes her way back over with the drinks.

“Jim, I’ve made you one too! This is party!” she laughs, handing out all three cups. “AMY!” she yells before stumbling out.

“You may as well drink up, because it’s only going to get worse from here,” you promise, raising your cup. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Ciara and Jim cheered in unison.

As you take a large sip of your drink, you feel Jim’s eyes glued to you, and every feeling you thought felt wash away comes rushing back. You look him directly in the eyes while continuing to drink, and Ciara between the both of you with a smirk tugging on her lips.

Oh God, you know that look.

Once Jim puts his cup down, he clears his throat, “are you girls staying for the whole party?”

“Uh-”

“Yes,” Ciara interjects, and you shoot her a look, which she completely ignores. “Figured it would be best, since everything was left such a mess before. If there’s one thing that’ll make Y/M/N forget that she’s irrationally upset, it’s booze and a party.”

Oh my God.

“Jim! Come say hi!” your Mother calls, laughing along with Rose, Amy, and you’re guessing Amy’s boyfriend.

“I’ll circle back,” he promises with a nod and a soft smile, before walking off.

“What are you doing?!” you snap once Jim is out of ear shot.

“Investigating.”

“Investigating what?!”

“Just how long you should be staying at my place.”

“What?”

“You don’t fool me. I saw the look you two exchanged, plus, Daddy Dearest couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.” “Stop it, he’s just being nice. It’s an awkward situation to be in because my Mother is...my Mother, and I guarantee he doesn’t know a majority of the people here.”

“What does have to do with you?”

“He knows me!”

“He met you the one time.”

“Ci-”

“There’s no harm in staying, besides, we can get shit faced here and sleep it off at my place.”

“I really don’t want to be around Rose all night,” you scowl, taking another sip of your drink.

“I won’t leave you to these assholes. Lets just stay and see what happens,” she suggests with a shrug before downing her drink. “Refill!”

You should’ve gone to the pub. You should’ve gone anywhere but your Mother’s house.

~~

4 Hours Later...

You and Ciara are absolutely shit faced, along with everyone else in the house. Between the calls for shots, not drinking as much water as you should have, and the drinks Ciara kept making for you, there was no other choice for you.

“Do you think your Mum locked the door to your room?” Ciara slurs, leaning against you.

“Hmm? What? Why?”

“I have to pee!”

You giggle and grab her hand, leading her through the crowd of people and make your way upstairs, “come on.”

“I love Nora, but I’m so happy I get to sleep this off.”

“Feel shit already?”

“No, but I know I will in the mornin’,” she groans and you giggle. “I’ll stand guard, go to the bathroom,” you encourage with a smile once you reach your room. 

“You’re a saint, baby,” she praises as she stumbles into your bedroom, practically running to the connected bathroom.

Giggling to yourself, you lean against the wall and take a sip of your drink. 

“What’re you doin’ up here?” a deep voice asks, causing you to jump.

You laugh when you see Jim stumbling out of your Mother’s bedroom, “Ciara needed to use the toilet, so she’s using the one in my room.”

“The ones downstairs are taken?”

“Guess so,” you smile up at him, taking another sip of your drink, “what’s your excuse?”

He sighs as he goes to take a sip of his drink, “I was hiding.”

“Ha! She finally wore you down?”

“How does she know so many people?!”

“She assumes everyone she parties with is her lifelong friend. They don’t judge her so, naturally, she wants to be around them all the time.”

“You don’t like them, then?” 

You scoff, “not in the slightest.” “Not even Rose?”

“That bitch. I especially don’t like Rose.”

There’s a small silence before he comments, “you look nice tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“I think you know you do.”

“Wasn’t too sure, didn’t get many compliments tonight.”

“Then they weren’t payin attention.”

What the fuck are you doing?

“You should probably go and find my Mother.”

“She’s fine on her own.”

“It’s her birthday.”

“She threw the party. I’m having much more fun where I’m at.”

“And why’s that?”

“I’m going home,” Ciara states, suddenly coming out of your room, surprising both you and Jim.

“What? Why?”

“I need sleep.”

“You can sleep here.”

“Too fuckin’ loud and, knowing your Mother, she’ll want to keep this up for another few hours.”

“Well, how the hell are ya gettin’ home? You’re not walkin’.”

“I spent the last 5 minutes orderin’ a service. By the time I get downstairs, it should be here. I take you’re stayin?”

“You how she gets. Jim’s never dealt with her and Rose never stays to help.”

“You’re a better daughter than she deserves,” she smiles, wrapping you in a hug. “You’ll come round tomorrow?” “Yeah, let me know when you’re home safe, okay?”

She lets go of you and nods, “promise. Nice meeting you, Jim.”

“You too, get home safe,” he smiles as Ciara starts down the stairs. 

And just like that, you and Jim are alone again.

“You can go back into hiding again, she’s useless at this point.” “I can handle her.”

“While I believe that,” you giggle, “I’m saving you.” “And who saves you?”

“Me,” you smirk before walking off.

It’s nothing. Nothing at all. You’re both drunk, irritated, and it’ll mean nothing in the morning. It can’t mean anything, because you’re not that awful of a person. It’s just a bit of innocent fun. Nothing that can’t be shrugged off. 

For the rest of the night, you do your best to distance yourself from Jim, no matter how many times you catch him looking your way. When the party finally starts to wind down, as you predicted, Rose is the first one out the door, leaving your Mother half asleep on the couch.

“C’mon Mum, time to get you upstairs,” you groan, lifting her up.

“No-”

“Literally everyone has gone. It’s just you, Jim, and myself. It’s time for bed.”

“Great, your mad-”

“Not mad, just drunk and tired. Everyone needs to go to sleep. Now, up.”

With a huff of annoyance, she forces herself up and puts most of her weight on you, and you both slowly start on your way to the stairs.

“She alright?” Jim asks, coming to help, and wrapping your Mother’s other arm around his neck.

“She’s fine, just drunk.”

Your Mother scoffs in annoyance, “it’s not even that late.”

“It’s 2am,” you grunt, trying to keep everyone balanced.

Once you’re all finally at the top of the stairs, both you and Jim start to struggle, because your Mother has officially passed out and is now dragging her feet. Nonetheless, you both get her to bed and, while Jim undresses and dresses her, you set up water and ibuprofen on her bedside. 

“Got it from here?” you ask softly.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“Mhm, I’ll see you in the morning,” you smile before quietly making your way out.

Against your better judgement, after you’ve changed into one of your old nightshirts, you go downstairs and start to clean. No, you don’t plan on cleaning everything tonight, but your Mother won’t be up until late afternoon and there’s no way in fuck you’re gonna wanna clean all of this when you get up.

“What are ya doin’? I’ll take care of this,” Jim states gently, causing you to jump.

“No, get some rest. I’ve got it.” “Y/N-”

“I’m used to it. I’ll do some now and the rest tomorrow.” “You don’t have to take care-”

“I’m just used to it.”

“You don’t have to be anymore.”

“Jim-”

“I’ll take this side, you take the other,” he half smiles and you giggle.

“Sounds good.”

Maybe you should’ve gone home with Ciara, because the fact that it’s just the both of you, and you’re walking around in a long t-shirt and panties, and you’re once again drunker than you ever meant to get. If there’s one thing your Mother can unite everyone in, it’s getting people entirely too drunk. However, you can’t lie and say the extra help isn’t nice. Ciara would help if she was able, but her parents always hated her staying over as well as the state she would come back in, so help didn’t happen often. 

It’s only your second time with the older gentleman, but gentleman he is indeed.

“I think that’s a good bit for tonight,” you smile when you both meet up in the kitchen.

“There’s barely anything left for tomorrow.”

You scoff, “which makes my life easier.”

“You don’t have to take care of it, angel.”

Angel? That goes straight to foggy brain. 

“It’s just what I’m used to-”

“You don’t have to be, not anymore. You’re not alone,” he promises softly, faintly slurring, as he softly caresses your right cheek with his right hand.

The hand without his wedding band.

You find yourself leaning into it for just a moment, before pulling away and looking up at him, “goodnight Jim.”

“Night angel.”

Stumbling up the steps, you’re quick to escape into your room, finally letting out a breath didn’t even know you’d been holding. You don’t even bother to turn on the light, you just plop down on your bed and grab your phone to send Ciara a quick text. 

Y/N: Thanks for letting me know you’re back safe. Lots to talk about when I get back, and what the fuck? I should’ve left with you, lol. Anyway, I love you, night.

Too wired from your interaction with Jim, you decided to mindlessly scroll through your phone, trying to find literally anything to take your mind off of him. However, nothing seemed to do the trick. God, why couldn’t you just have decided to stay with Ciara from the very beginning? At this point, you would’ve much rather stayed oblivious to this whole damn thing. Your Mother clearly had no problem hiding it, so why now?

You’re just about to send Ciara another text when you hear your door open. 

“Jim?”

Almost instantly, the light comes on and he looks mortified, “fuck! I’m sorry, I wasn’t...I didn’t...I’m-” Laughing and waving your hand to beckon him in, you shake your head, “it’s fine.”

“I wasn’t payin’ attention-”

“It’s really alright, Jim. You’re drunk and it’s late. I don’t take it as you creepin’ in on me.”

“Good...thanks,” he laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah no, I’ll leave you to it-” “What’s bothering you?” you ask, placing your phone down and sitting up.

“It’s no big deal-”

“Then you should have no problem telling me.”

He motions towards the room and you nod, as he enters and closes the door softly behind him.

“I’m just wonderin’-” “Jim, you can sit on my bed, I won’t bite,” you laugh. “I promise to be a good girl, daddy,” you tease, not noticing how he swallows thickly as he makes his way over and sits on the edge of the bed. “What’s got you all worked up after such a rowdy party?”

“Well, that’s it,” he laughs nervously, “has it always been like this? How did I not see it?”

“In your defense, I triggered it. I trigger her.”

“How? You’re an...an angel, and I don’t see how-”

“No one wants to commit themselves to a teen Mother, she didn’t want the responsibility, and my grandparents didn’t hold their tongues on how disappointed they were in her. I represent failure and resentment. I didn’t get knocked up in the back of some loser’s car at a concert, I’m continuing my education, my grandparents always made sure to tell me how much they love me and how proud they were...she feels like they wished I would’ve been their daughter instead. Which, isn’t the case at all, they just wanted her to do better. Her argument was always that she was young, and they always told her that it didn’t stop her from opening her legs,” you shrug with an awkward laugh. “We’ve had our rows in the past, some of them bad, and she knows how I feel towards her. I guess, now, she wants me to see that she’s changed. Stable man, stable life...she’s finally grown up. However, when I first met you, I was rightfully angry with her, and now she feels all those things again and she just...she spirals,” you smile weakly, wiping your eyes. “So, it’s not that you’re not a good judge of character or anything, you just didn’t know everything.”

He’s looking at you with the softest eyes, and you force yourself to look away, because it’s entirely too much for you to handle in your current state.

“I just...I’m not giving up on her or anything, I just don’t know how to handle her when she’s like this,” he mutters, turning away from.

You clear your throat and reach out for his hand, “well, take into account that tonight was a good night. She was hanging all over you, she wanted you by her side, and she was laughing and dancing almost the entire time. Yeah, she still drank her face off, but she was bearable. On her off nights...”

“What?”

“You go for a walk, go see friends, maybe go to the cinema...just let her have her fit. There’s no reasoning, because she’ll just want to argue and won’t take any accountability. It’s never worth it. Especially if Rose is with her.”

“Yeah, what’s the story there?”

“Rose is the worst fucking person. She’s selfish and a deadbeat. Whenever my Mother wanted to actually make an actual attempt to be a parent, Rose was always there to say ‘your parents will take care of her! You’re young!’ and yeah, my Mother is her own person, but Rose didn’t help anything. The moment I was able to drink, they brought me everywhere so they’d have someone to bring them home, and Rose would talk her into going off with her to do God knows what and leave me on my own.”

“Why does she keep her around?”

“That’s her best friend. When Ma got knocked up, Rose stayed by her side, she doesn’t make her feel bad about herself, she’s been there after every guy left, and they party together. Rose is a terrible influence, but she’s always been a good friend. Gotta give her that,” you mutter.

Jim looks as if he wants to say something, but he’s at a loss for words. So, you smile and take control of the conversation.

“I couldn’t help but notice you going through the record collection tonight.”

He laughs softly, finally taking your hand in his, “you noticed, eh?”

“This has always been a family of impeccable music taste.”

“I could tell by the shirt you wore tonight.”

“Yeah? Tell me more about what you love.”

It’s not like you mean to keep him in your room for so long, but you two get so caught up in conversation, and you lose track of time. At some point, you both end up laying down on your bed (your head on his chest and leg around his waist while his hand is wrapped around you and stroking your hair), and none of it feels wrong. You know it is, but you feel so at peace with him, that it just feels as if it’s meant to be.

‘None of this will matter in the morning,’ you tell yourself mentally.

You yawn as you slowly start to succumb to sleep, “Jim?”

“Yeah angel?”

“When I leave, she’ll go back to normal. It won’t always be like this,” you promise softly and he lets out a heavy sigh. “What?”

“You shouldn’t have to leave for her to go back to how she was.”

“It’s what’s best for everyone.” “Not me,” he mutters into your hair before pressing a soft kiss into it, and your heart breaks at his words. “Just sleep. We both need to sleep.”

As you drift off, you tell yourself that none of this matters. Nothing that’s been discussed, and not you two holding each other close while your Mother snores the night away in the next room. All of this is just temporary until you leave.

Too bad your heart won’t follow suit.

~~

[jeanboyjean]

and i - ft. jean kirstein

summary: jean (successfully) tries to make you feel better after a recent breakup

content: friends to lovers, fluff, good vibes, jean brainrot to the max, modern au, college au

a/n: for @honeybleed 90s/00s rnb event!! <3 jean fluff hehehe bc i can't get him out of my brain and he is THE comfort character. inspired by and i - ciara. i love this song big time ♡ laughed so hard watching the music video when she brought out the horse lmaooo 🤔 for my fellow jean girlies!!!

1.2k words

"ugh, i hate him," you grumble, sinking into the couch with a heavy sigh.

jean glances at you, concern etched on his face. "what now?" he asks, taking a seat beside you.

crossing your arms, you slump into the cushions. "he just posted a picture of him with that girl. what a fucking asshole."

jean clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval. "why are you still on his profile? you need to forget about him."

with a frustrated sigh, you shut off your phone. it’s been a few weeks since you ended things with your ex, a decision long overdue. the relationship had lost what little spark had been there in the first place, dragging on for as long as the two of you would let it. the final straw had been when you had found the sexts he had sent to a girl in one of his classes. it stings and it sucks but more than anything, your pride is wounded. the sadistic part of you can’t resist the urge to keep tabs on him and wallow in resentment.

"i have forgotten about him," you say defiantly. "he's just unfortunately like the gum stuck on the bottom of my shoe."

jean lets out a low chuckle. his hands fall to his thighs as he pushes up off the couch. "okay, you know what. let's go for a drive."

curiosity flickers in your eyes as you look up at him, wondering where this is going. 

"come on, let's go," he urges, reaching forward to grab your hand. you let him pull you to your feet.

"alright, fine. but you're shouting me coffee," you tell him with a roll of your eyes, a small smile winning over.

"always," he winks in return with a mischievous lift to his lips.

the music blares as you drive, jean tapping his fingers along to the beat. you hum along, watching the scenery pass by with your window down, letting the cool air blow away your tension. the recent events start to fade away and your mind wanders back to your first break up a couple years ago during your first year of university. jean had been there then too, holding you as you had cried and simmered, until you were ready to put yourself back together. 

he had refused to let you mope around, forcing you to go out with him to movies and parties and bars. he had been the one to listen to your problems as you poured your heart out, making his shoulders your personal dumping ground. jean had been there for you through it all.

you deserve someone who loves all of you. the words he had said to you back then, ring clear in your mind. 

there has always been an underlying tension between you two, a quiet undercurrent that flows beneath the surface of your friendship. from the moment you first saw him, standing across the room at a party in first year, his presence has captured your attention drawing you to him like a magnet. you had become fast friends, sharing everything together from your classes, to your interests, to your deepest darkest secrets.

part of you wonders if he’s ever felt the same way. sometimes you wonder what it would be like if you had found the courage to tell him your feelings, but now you’re in too deep, the confines of your friendship too strong. all this time, you’re pining after him while trying to fill the void with other people, only to be crushed over and over. dreams of making a move dance in your mind, but the fear of jeopardising your friendship holds you back. you’re happy this way, if only because it means you can have him in your life. you’ve sealed these thoughts away in your heart and thrown away the key. 

jean's hand lifts from the steering wheel to turn down the music. "what are you thinking about?" he asks.

you cross your arms to hug yourself. "why is it so hard to find someone? am I just destined to be forever alone?"

he flicks your knee teasingly. "maybe you're looking in the wrong places." he turns his head briefly to meet your eyes. “plus, how can you be forever alone when you have me."

you roll your eyes and poke his shoulder before turning away. “yeah, and where should I be looking then?”

he pulls into the car park in front of your favourite coffee shop, shutting off the car and turning to you. he stills for a moment and takes a deep breath, letting it sit for a moment before releasing. a hand pulls through his hair, coming to rest on the back of his neck. "why not me?" he asks, turning to face you.

your eyes narrow at his words. "don't play around, jean."

"nah, I'm serious," he says. there's a hint of uncertainty in his voice but his gaze is unwavering. "you know I would do anything for you." 

you freeze, chest tightening, feeling the air being sucked out of the car. you hear his words but they don't register, refusing to sink in. the sincerity in his words hang in the air, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. in the quiet, jean's confession lingers like a promise. you want to believe him, to let go of the fear that consumes you but you can't help but hold back.

you shake your head, uncertain of the implications. you’ve both said things like this to each other before, never ones to hold back on sentiment, but something about them today carry a weight you can’t ignore.

"but aren't we friends? i don't want to ruin what we have."

he reaches for your hand across the centre console, his fingers intertwining with yours. his thumb brushes against your skin, sending tingles up your arm. “i would never let anything ruin what we have,”  he says, his eyes never leaving yours, gaze tender but firm. “i've wanted to say this for a long time."

with his free hand, he cups your cheek and leans in, brushing your hair aside. "i could have everything in the world, but I would sacrifice it all for you. stop wasting your time with these losers.” 

your heart pounds, breath catching in your throat. slowly, you allow yourself to acknowledge the feelings that have lingered beneath the surface. "jean..." you whisper, the sound barely escaping your lips.

"please. let me show you."

his lips meet yours, and for a moment, you forget about everything else. the world disappears, leaving only the two of you. it feels like a dream as he pulls you in, your chest flush against his. your fingers comb through his hair, your heart thumping in your chest.

everything about him overwhelms you. his scent, the way his hair feels between your fingers. and the softness of his lips, gentle and warm against your own. 

his hands slide from where they’re tangled in your own hair down to hold your arms, squeezing lightly. he pulls back, his eyes searching yours. the moment hangs in the air, the intensity heavy between you.

"are you okay with this?" he asks, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

you nod. a smile stretches across your cheeks as you look up at jean, whose expression mirrors yours. 

it’s more than okay. it’s everything.

you let yourself fall into the moment, unlocking the key to your heart, letting yourself want him. hope flickers in you, anticipation for what this could mean. you finally reach for the love that has always wanted to reveal itself. and this time, it feels real. 

[ladylaviniya]

Sir Sherlock Holmes & The Indian Princess

शर्लक बाबू औ�� भारतीय राजकुमारी

Chapter 1 || Masterlist || Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: In England, Sherlock Holmes receives an alarm letter from his dear friend Doctor John Watson. In Delhi, You don't mind being a teacher, but with new building plans, you reflect on your circumstances and opportunities.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x Desi!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Slow burn, generational trauma, colonisation, implied murder, death of a parent, classism & caste.

Word Count: 6k

Author Notes:

★ Everything written in bold is being said in Hindustani

★The Reader character goes by the last name Newalkar and is the daughter of Damodar Rao Newalkar → the adopted son of Rani Laxmibai. I must advise this story is pure fiction but based in the occupation of the British Raj that invaded and Colonised India.

★I am a White European/Australian woman, I apologise for any cultural or historical inaccuracies. I am receiving help from online sources and desi Tumblr mutual @livesinfantasyland and I heavily encourage other Indian/South Asian/Desi readers to share their thoughts, constructive criticism and help as I write this story.

Inspiring Song: "Paint it Black" by Ciara

11:35pm Thursday 26th June 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

This story begins and ends with the sound of rain.

Tink!

The roof had begun a leak. And when this leak came to play it had a habit of landing directly on the head of a disgruntled and lonely fellow.  The greatest detective in London who could not find a friend. Granted I must inform you, Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact have some friends, but by misfortunes, none were presently in the country.

Tink!

He angrily sighed. Another drop of rain hit his head.

He launched from his arm chair and grumbling moved an empty teapot to sit on the cushion he previously sat. The drops thus made a small tinkling as they landed inside the empty pot.

Plonk!

He rubbed his eyes and checked the time on the mantle piece clock. He had lost weeks of his life. Hours squeezed down to into unknown days or months, he could not tell. It did not help how he consistently drew the curtains closed to design total darkness other than the fireplace and his candles to light up his home.

A light shiver ran up his spine. The weather was dangerously cold today. His fingertips upon inspection grew from pale white to a dark pink.

Plonk!

He wandered if perhaps it was time to have a holiday in sunny Spain.

A knock on his door broke his imagined vacation like a hammer to glass.

His pesky landlady Mrs Hudson intruded on his stuffy dust filled space. She grumbled nonsense about the filth of her apartment she’s rented out to the famous Detective before handing him a thick envelope.

Plonk!

And the moment he could see and recognised the handwriting he snatched the Letter from her wrinkly fingers and banished her with a bellowing shout. The woman fluttered out and muttered her further disgusts of his treatment.

Plonk!

But Sherlock did not care for her opinion or rather anyone’s for that matter, Sherlock only cares about the stamp he tore opened the parchment he eagerly unfolded.

John Watson. Doctor, soldier and dear friend. He was Sherlock’s greatest companion to note. He had never felt such brotherly love until he met the very man seeking a roommate here in baker street.

Doctor and detective used to comb London for clues to solve crimes and very noticeably took an interest at the sports of pleasure. The luxurious brothels of London welcomed him and his friend with open arms and spread legs. Doctor Watson was the easy victim of sex while Sherlock was one to enjoy his opium pipe and watch his friend succumb to the mouths of half-pound harlots.

And among these adventures of interesting women did the doctor find himself in a savage tussle with another jealous male patron...

Sherlock recalled the evening with mirth. His dear friend, brother in arms had been pummelled to a pulp and drunk as a daisy. So when Sherlock escorted him to a hospital, the imbecile had declared that he was doctor of the ward and did not need any stitches. It is a grand thing perhaps Doctor Watson could not fathom the memory of yelling too proudly that his medicine could be only found in the elixir of a woman’s warm cunny.

His nurse, a dirty bird at heart had giggled at this...that nurses name was Mary Mortenson. And she became the very enamoured Mrs Mary Watson.

Sherlock was not fond of his friend becoming so besotted with his bride. He tolerated the woman’s presences at best. Unspokenly, the detective saw competition to gain the doctors attention and it was becoming far too obvious that Mrs Watson would win. Every. Single. Time.

After a month of young love the married pair had decided their honey-moon should be experienced back in John’s birth land...Delhi, a city in India. Mary was to meet the senior Mr and Mrs Watson. Coincidently, the English rose was not averse to the foreign lands…she so happened to have been born in Agra. Happy and married, they boarded and sailed across the sea.

Sherlock had high hopes their ship would run scarce of supplies so they might return quickly. He missed his dear friend and even his annoying wife.

The letter in between if thumbs and fingers were the first words from them he had gotten in nearly three months. The letter read as followed...

“Dear Sherlock,

Mary and I have come to my home I grew up in as a boy. I was blessed with my parents merry welcome. However, unfortunate circumstances have designed two coffins. For merely a week into our visit my beloved parents have passed. I have yet to decide whether to bury them in the English tradition or burn them in the Hindi ritual. My predicted return back to Baker Street may appear futile and non-existent. Please. Come visit us as soon as it is convenient.

13, 25, 27, 16, 1, 18, 5, 14, 20, 19, 27, 8, 23, 5, 27, 2, 5, 5, 14, 27, 13, 21, 18, 4, 5, 18, 5, 4.

Your sincere faithful friend, Doctor John H. Watson.”

Plonk!

Sherlock’s eyes raced over the page, and cupped his mouth staring at the plethora of numbers. They were not any numbers. John was a simple man, he wasn’t the smartest being but Sherlock appreciated his humble attitudes, he liked the doctor admitting he wasn’t a world genius, just a man who knew his medicines.

So when an enigmatic set of numbers was written at random Sherlock thought of the most simplistic cypher.

For every number was a letter. 1 being A and 26 being Z, leaving 27 to be a space between a word.

His brows lifted. The message was clear and alarming.

Plonk!

“My Parents Have Been Murdered.”

He determined his dear doctor had written this cryptic message under the desire of secrecy. His eyes lit up. It meant John needed Sherlock’s help. A case. Something was amiss. John did not know the killers name. If he did, he would’ve written it or not bothered to write asking Sherlock to visit at all.

He couldn’t have run faster to his rooms to start backing as soon as possible.

Plonk!

Sherlock Holmes had know idea what he was going to find in a land he had only heard stories from Watson’s childhood. He was eager to see his friend, to help him and to finally have an adventure.

01:35pm Friday 11th July 1890, Anglo Arabic Secondary School, Desh Bandhu Gupta Rd, Ajmeri Gate, Delhi.

You dragged the piece of white chalk across a black board and sketched a simple phrase in the English language. You smiled to the young faces that filled the room, sitting in long benches and desks. Their eyes wide and curious, eager to learn.

You waved your hands, “Now, clean your chalk slates students, you are going to learn how to spell good afternoon in English.”

They wipe them down with their small damp clothes and tucked them away in the groove at the top of their slanted desk. You waited patiently until they all sat with their hands resting flat on the wooden desks, mouths shut, eyes seeking knowledge.

You underlined each letter of the first word, “Gee, ouw, ouw, dee, this spells ‘Good’ and now ‘Afternoon’ is Aya, eff, tee, Ee, Ara, eynnn, ouw, ouw, eynn.”

The young boys sounded it out with you. Their sweet pubescent voices unionised. You smiled. They were so advanced at such a young age, most of the boys had come from average and wealthy families that could afford them to come to such a fine school. Many were Muslim, others Hindu, it was a good sign of peace. The youth coming together despite their differences. And on odd days you would teach the white children, boys and girls of British and French families who wanted their children to learn Hindi, Arabic and Urdu.

You didn’t mind teaching white children, some of the boys could be very disrespectful but you gathered it was behaviour picked up from their arrogant fathers. It wasn’t the young boys who had pillaged these lands, it was their fathers and grandfathers.

“The gee,” you circled the G, “Remember in English is also pronounced like Guh and,” you tapped the double o’s, “Ouw ouw in english together when two is said ‘oooowa’. Followed by dee being said as Dah. So, let’s say it together?”

You dragged a white line under the word and sounded it out with your students.

“Guh-oooow-dah.”

You smiled.

You repeated, “Good.”

“Now let’s look at the word ‘afternoon’,” you announced.

You cleaned the board and looked back at your students. One of the little boys who sat in the front was rubbing his eyes. You smiled softly. He was only six years old. His older brother, a young man now would most likely be the one to collect his brother from school and carry him sleeping back home. You looked at the bell tower just outside the window. It was nearly time for your students to go home and you to return back to your lodgings.

“Aye and eff is said as AAaff, then tee is a quick Tuh! And what is Ee and Arrra sound together children?”

“Errr,” they all purred.

You sounded out half of the word with them, “Aafftuherrr.”

You rubbed your chalk dust covered fingers together and further explained as you pointed to each important letter, “eynnn makes a Na, sound. And we just practiced double ouw, so sound it out.”

Like a symphony of speech, you all said together, “Guh-oooow-dah Aafftuherrr, Na-ooow-na. Good Afternoon.”

The deep bowing clang of the bells outside rang through the yard and open window shutters. The children looked eager to leave. Their hands were readily holding their slates, ready to put them inside the empty wooden box in the corner of the classroom where they kept all their slates and dusters and the bucket for where they kept their chalk.

“Good afternoon students,” You bided.

“Good afternoon Teacher Madam,” They called back.

“You may go back home now. Practise your English alphabet song.”

The boys were fast as rabbits, leaping from their desks and fleeing the classroom out the hall and down the stairs. But some at least saluted you as they left. It was a habit they’d picked up from the white boys who saluted their male teachers. You smiled to yourself as you waved them out. Each left with beaming smiles and playful chatter among themselves.

As you went about sweeping the floor after wiping the chalk from the board, you wondered if you should go to the temple and pray for your students successful education or if you should consider washing your clothing today. It had been very dry today, any moment and you knew the wet season and humid rain would arrive to flood the streets clean of dust and fill the forests with life of green goodness.

As you put away the English education books on the small shelves by the door, a familiar face came rushing in, flushed and excited

If it wasn’t her jingling anklet and bangle that announced her To your classroom, it was her shrill cry of your name that did.  

“Y/N! Quick!” Miss Anjuli Paraiyars exclaimed, “You need to come with me.”

Her dark ink hair was peaking out from her sun patterned veil. The wispy curls stuck to her sweaty forehead and framed her dazzling walnut eyes. They were flooded with mischief that matched her biting lip. Her brows wriggled lightly.

Placing the last book onto the shelf you turned to acknowledge your dear friend.

“Anjuli,” you happily sighed, “Whatever is the matter?”

She waved her hands about, hoping to quicken you along and out the door, “It is the Watson son, Doctor Watson, he wants to speak with you with important news.”

Your eyes widened. ‘What on earth does that poor soul wish to say to me? After the death of the good Mr and Mrs Watson, I would assume he was still in mourning, why would he call upon me?’

Following your friend outside into the scorching sun, you lifted your saree over your head. She had her family Ox and cart waiting outside the school gates.

“What important news Anjuli?” You said a little standoffishly.

“He’s offering you a job,” She said giddily. She climbed up into the cart and leant down offering her hand to you.  Once in the cart side by side she sighed, “That’s all he would tell me,” She grabbed the reigns and cane and tapped the Ox to start moving out onto the dirt road, “But we all know how very generous he can be like his dear parents.”

Anjuli was right. The late Victoria and Hamish Watson’s were angelic to the local community. Victoria had been the very soul to teach your late mother English and she was the one to encourage you to attain education enough to become one of the very few first female Indian teachers. She was a well known philanthropist, often aiding the sick and homeless and funding the Indian hospitals. Hamish was a local accountant, financial advisor and lawyer. He was known to be good to the children particularly. He would often hand out sweets as he walked down the street with his briefcase bag. He often aided the locals find new homes when the British planned to evict them and replace white families in their place. The English couple had lived in the country for many decades, long before you were even born. They spoke fluently enough and mimicked the culture so well that you could’ve believed they were born here themselves.

You sat back and nodded, “May their souls attain moksha.”

02:45pm Friday 11th July 1890, Willingdon Crescent, Central Ridge Forest, Delhi, India.

The sun baked down on the streets of Dehli. The Ox cart rolled along, it’s tail flicking the flies circling it’s flank every so often.

You pinches your saree scarf and covered your face before a bug could fly into your mouth.

Anjuli had to hold the reigns and cane, she leant closer to you and giggled as she nodded to the khaki covered soldiers. Walking by in many small groups.

Anjuli had a terrible habit, she fell in love too easily. For some ungodly reason Anjuli admired the foreigners that had come so long ago and invaded your beautiful country. Maybe she liked how different they looked. The flaxen hair and ice blue gazes in the faces of pale freaks were so opposite to the raven manes and hairy russet warmth of Indian men. It was erotic for her. You just didn't understand how she could so easily find infatuation with the people you considered an enemy, and so should she.

“Oh look at them,” she giggled girlishly.

You rolled your eyes, “I’m looking.” There was a timid strain in your voice. You had no real interest to entertain Anjuli’s fascination.

When Anjuli noticed how you in fact we’re not looking but rather looking ahead on the road path she playfully smacked your arm.

“Look!” She sucked her teeth and teasingly scolded, “Do you not know delight at the sight of men?” She reached forward and abruptly touched the front of your blouse, squeezing around for the softness of your breasts, “Are you sure you’re a full grown woman?” she smiled wickedly and prodded her finger in between your legs covered by your top petticoat.

You squeaked loudly and batted her hand. She howled with laughter and kept giggling even as you scowled at her beneath your veil.

You turned your head away from her and scoffed, “I am not as easily swayed by British soldiers. They look so sickly as pale as they are,” your nose wrinkled, “How could I righteously take a husband in front of beloved Lakshmi and her Vishnu when they look like they tempt Yama too take them at any moment?”

Your friend rolled her eyes, “Oh nonsense,” she tapped your hand and waved her fingers into a crowd of soldiers, “See there that one, his hair the colour of wheat, he is a handsome man. He would make a fine husband.”

And as the cart rolled passed, you couldn’t help gag at the smell of the same man Anjuli proclaimed would make a fine husband.

‘A fine swine perhaps. Many sow in heat could come trotting to him from miles with such a putrid scent.’

Your head wobbled and your flat palm waved at her, “A husbands good qualities are not to stand on his appearance alone. One day he will grow old, fat, bald and ugly.”

A long dragging sigh came out from the woman beside you. She managed to move both reigns into one hand and playfully tugged your saree away from your face

“You’re no fun, come on,” she jerked her chin out to the same street as the ox was about to pass another group, “Tell me you don’t find any of them a little attractive?”

You stared at the oncoming group and now sucked your teeth. You crudely stated, “They’d be far more attractive if they left. Went back to their lands, leave our villages and the people of Bharat in peace.”

Anjuli stared blankly at you. Before she could pinch and prod you again you relented and noticed one of the men in the crowd so different from the others.

He was tall, his hair a dark chestnut that matched the shade of his suit. His face was bare and clean in comparison to the soldiers who all adorned moustaches and muttonchop beards on their faces. He was carrying a rather large brief case and walking stick.

“Fine...that one,” you nodded, “In the brown English clothes.”

“The one wearing a suit?” Anjuli snickered, “He’s not a soldier though?”

You giggled,“And it is for such a reason I find he is most handsome among them.”

You both gazed at him as the ox fully passed by. Anjuli smiled at you.

“He is rather tall. Strong. What do you think he does?” She asked, “Maybe he is a farmer, or a bricklayer?”

You shook your head. ‘No. He couldn’t be.’

“He dresses too finely. It is not their Christian Sunday Sabbath today. He probably is a rich businessman, with a wife and children.”

You looked back to the path as the dusty road became thicker in trees and travel further away from the street. You thought about that strangers wife, what she might look like, probably some English rose with a house full of servants at her command, surrounded by maids and wet nurses for her children. She would live in a grand house and hold soiree’s, welcoming guests from all around to celebrate life. She would have a massive library and a place of worship. It was the life you should’ve had, the life you were owed and denied merely by the changing events of history and the extinguish of your father’s birthright.

Your soft smile faded; you felt a twinge of repulsion mixed with a hint of anger. You’d think after all these years you would’ve chosen to forget this, ignore this, let go and accept your circumstances in this life.... You didn’t live with your father anymore who would remind you practically daily why not to trust the English or any white man, as if you didn’t witness their subjecting abuse and consistent disrespect.

Your eyes fluttered shut, you reached to your side and touched Anjuli’s wrist. She was your truest friend despite her differences and low status. Anjuli came from a Shudra family, and you? You were the daughter, the descendant of Brahims and Kshatriyas...now lowered to the Shudra caste class…You never knew the lavish life of the Jhansi palace, nor tasted the rich foods served on golden plates and surrounded by pretty creatures of the palace menagerie. You would never know the joys of running through the gardens with other children in the royal family.

Everyone was gone, everything was gone. All that was left was your father who scarcely remembered that life but shared all he remembered so his memories would live on through you and bring you hope that one day it would be yours. It was a cruel false hope…

Eighteen years ago, you had been born inside of a nice house in Indore to the daughter of a prestige painter Vasudeoraobhau Bhatavdekar. As far as you knew, your father loved your mother very much for the incredibly brief time that they were married. A rare jewel in beauty is how he described her often. A marriage of love and choice. Your father said she was softly spoken and obedient, but it was her unconditional love for him and his dreams that held his heart in appreciation.

It was by unfortunate command that she would fall ill to childbed fevers after you were born. After you…a girl...not a son. You were nothing in the eyes of the British raj and had no chance of being installed as an heir for any restoration…you were the last hope and failed before your first breath. And that was something you’d never forget.

For a small time, you were raised in that home and then it was decided by your father that you would learn English. His tutors were not available, so he cut your hair short and shipped you off to Delhi with your young uncle Save to the Anglo Arabic Secondary School…It did not take the teachers and headmaster long to discover you were a girl. Before you were to receive the beating of a lifetime it was Mr Hamish Watson who so happened to be accounting the school costs to save you. He took you to his wife who taught you English and then set you to live with his maid servants, Anjuli’s mother.

Your friend spoke after some time of silence, “Oh, I’m meant to tell you- My cousin Vijay sent word this morning, he’s seeking a wife. My mother wants me to ask if you’d like to meet him, a prospective match.”

Your lips curled into a sneer, “Isn’t he the one that use to tie our braids together in a knot during Diwali and chase us around the street making animal noises?”

You recalled a young teenage boy about five years your senior with a tooth gap and ruffled hair. He was so annoying, calling you names and bullying you by calling you fat and ugly. He was spoilt and rude. He mocked you when you told him you were a princess. He said you were a princess of pimple pox and nothing more. Oh how you remembered the way your blood boiled.

“We were children, he was playing, only a boy,” she smiled, “He’s a man now, studying to be a barrister in Bombay but he will be visiting in a few weeks to help us move.”

Ah yes, the dilemma you needed to find a solution too soon. It was a month ago that a letter had been nailed to the house door, it was an eviction commandment made by the British military and government. The Paraiyars family and you had to leave the home in Raisina hill, why? Because the British do what they like…building concrete monstrosities over beautiful land and demolishing the history of your people like it was worthless dust. Rumours spread about a grand governors palace was to be built there, but they couldn’t burn the village to ash with people living inside...well....at least not on their "morally good Christian conscious."

“Vijay I believe owns a cottage near the seaside. You could be his bride and live with him instead of moving back to Indore to your father.”

Moving back was not possible...not after his most recent letter.

“Father has…felt it improper for me to move back to Indore. He believes that my existence would cause me more harm than good under his jailers’ eyes…His pension he shares I give mostly to your mother for board. I have saved my wages, I am considering…moving to a boarding workhouse in Jhansi or Agra, but tell your mother I would like to greet Vijay when he arrives…”

You smirked looking down at your fingernails, “Lakshmi forbid I run out of money and need to resort to the ‘charity’ of Christians or to prostitution.”

Anjuli made a face, shaking her head and brushed her shoulder into yours, “You wrinkle your nose at every man, white, black or bronze,” she smiled cheekily, “I doubt you’d make a good prostitute.”

“Anjuli!” You shrieked.

Both you and her erupted into a large happy shrill of giggles enough to gain head turns from passing public. You and her playfully poked your elbows into each other. Anjuli was right, there was no chance that you could make a suitable prostitute…you hadn’t had sex and didn’t know how to please a man, most men you barely liked. They could be selfish. Anjuli on the other hand, she was a frisky thing. She had kissed a hundred men and given her ‘precious flower’ to a boy back when she was thirteen. She had no shame. Anjuli had shared her sordid tales of lust to you many times. You knew her boyfriends that snuck her out at night and returned her by morning. You promised never to tell her mother or father who surely would’ve disowned her if they knew how promiscuous she was. It was best if they believed she made money with her parents in the markets selling dyed clothes and wooden jewellery boxes.

03:04pm Friday 11th July 1890, 5 Bistdari Road, Central Ridge Forest, Delhi, India.

Arriving to the Watson Bungalow was simple enough, the ox cart rolled and bumped over the rock and sandy grooves of the path. Anjuli pulled the reigns of her beast and helped you both down. She tied her ox to the outside gate posts, the precious creature lowered its head and munched on dry grass that still was hinted in green. The ox would be glad as soon the wet season would hit and all the food delight lush and green would return.

You and Anjuli stepped inside and removed your sandals, Anjuli then led you through the house. It had been some time since you had been here. Anjuli’s mother was dismissed as Mrs Victoria Watson’s maid when the new Watson bride had arrived.

Doctor Watson, their son was a short ferrety man. His face was covered in a long mutton mustache like a snake of hair slithering along his face. He was a grown man from the teenager you had met many years ago. His parents had sent him to Europe to school, as far as you were aware he had join the army and fought in some notorious war battles like The of Battle of Abu Klea.

As you entered the bureau office, you found him hunched over some paperwork, his brows scrunched. His eyes lifted up and brightened his face on seeing you both.

“Oh Miss Paraiyars, Anjuli dear,” he said clapping his hands and opening a drawer in his desk, “Thank you so much dear for bringing darling Miss Newalkar here. Here,” he handed Anjuli a small bag and slipped four rupees into her hand, “and take these sweets back to your Mataji, Mrs Paraiyars.”

Anjuli put her hands together and smiled, wobbling her head before leaving you alone to return outside back to her ox cart.

You had your hands pressed together peacefully while the doctor hobbled over to you from around the desk. He was smiling brightly and nodded his head to you, offering you a chair in front of the desk.

“Y/N thankyou for coming on such short notice. I requested your presence in person to offer you a job position.”

Your smile fell, you sheepishly explained to the man, “I am currently employed at the Anglo school Doctor, Babu.”

The doctor nodded, “Yes…Anjuli tells me you are still teaching the children English and Hindi?”

“Yes Doctor Babu,” you confirmed.

“How much are you paid per month?” he asked quickly, touching his lips lightly in thought.

“Twenty five rupees,” you said softly, you didn’t dare try to sound prideful.

The doctor smiled and pulled out a piece paper contract, he then stated, “I will pay you a hundred per month.”

Your eyes widened, and then narrowed. It was too spectacular to be true, it sounded Impossible. Your fathers pension was only a hundred and fifty rupees a year, for the doctor to give you a hundred per month was unfathomable wealth. What on earth was he wanting from you!?

“What is the position,” you swallowed breathlessly, “Doctor Babu?”

“Housekeeper and…a carer,” he sighed, “I need you to live here, and watch over one of my friends. He is from England and I am afraid he might not understand the customs here.”

He leant against the desk cocking his head and looking down at his feet awkwardly. “Please,” he begged, “he is different to other men. He is particular and perhaps rather spoilt. I need you to make sure he doesn’t get lost, harmed or too upset. It is pressing that I should return to my wife in Agra. I would have hired Mrs Paraiyars, in fact I did offer this role to her, but I have been informed she will be moving and her English is not as it once was…and my English friend is rather…particular and impatient with broken speech...”

He wrote a signature across the bottom of the document and held it out for you to read. It was real…your mouth watered. You could save more than your regular wage and easily move back to Indore without burdening your father or mother’s family.  

“If you accept my offer, you may live here as a free lodging, you recall where the servant quarters are I am sure? You will also receive a handsome budget for food. And-” he paused looking up and pocketing the cheque, he gasped, “Sherlock! Dear god man! Did you walk here from the train station?!”

You turned around in the chair and took in the sight of a familiar looking soul.

He was the gentleman from the road. The supposed businessman with his briefcase. He was taller standing here with you then when you sat above in the ox cart. He was standing in the doorway to the office. He stepped inside and lowered his walking stick and briefcase.

“My friend,” the handsome stranger gleefully called, “My dear John Watson, I came the moment I read your message. One of the khaki coated lads pointed me here.”

Up close now you could observe his features on a better judgement. Sherlock Holmes was well known in the British gazette for his distinct physical appearance. With his broad angular frame, sharp hard features, and mighty frame, he exuded a striking and intimidating aura that commanded respect. He reminded you of warriors you imagined before bed in story's of battles your father described at Jhansi Fort.

His face was marked by a strong, sharp pointed nose and intense, deep-set sapphire eyes. His hair was kept combed and short below his ears short and slicked back, revealing his angular eyebrows, and his pink lips that were tightly pursed. He wore a grand brown suit coat with a crisp white shirt, and woolen sweater vest beneath it. And at the base of his throat was a dark burgundy tie. Something about the time reminded you of blood. A cut throat. You felt cold.

His eyes smoothly shifted to you and your presence, his lips parted softly, he glanced back at John, “A patient of yours Doctor?”

The moustached man bristled and shook his head, he stuttered and leant his hand out to you. you carefully chose to take it and rise from the chair as he introduced you.

“Oh- I- Sherlock…um, Sherlock Holmes, I would like you to meet Miss Y/N Newalkar.”

“Miss Newalkar,” the doctor waved his hand over the figure of the giant stock of a man, “This is the very gentleman I was informing you about. This is my friend Detective Sherlock Holmes.”

You pressed your hands together and nodded in greeting. One of Sherlock’s brows raised and his lips hardened in a straight line.

Doctor Watson explained back to the detective, “I was in the middle of discussing whether this dear lady would like to accept a role of housekeeping during your stay here.”

“Whatever for?” Sherlock snickered, “Is your lady wife not up to par with her duties?” he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his leather shoes while his eyes scanned all the way down to your bare feet. It was a crude look of judgement. The westerner seemed to forget not everyone shared the same styles and habits here. You tried not to roll your eyes at him as he scanned your arms and the parts of your belly that the saree did not cover.  Those dark blue orbs crawled up and settled over your faux sweetened smiling face.

“Some…plans have come up unexpectedly. Mary is back in Agra, staying safe with her family,” John stated, his fingers rubbed together, “I need to be with her. And the hospitals are in desire of my services as a surgeon. I ask that you will look around, see if you can find anything here…” he leant in closer and whispered to the man, “I will visit every couple of days, to check up on you and see if there is truth to be founded in my suspicions.”

'Suspicions?'

“John…” the detective pat his friends shoulder, “I am happy to see you. I promise I will do my very best.”

“Thankyou,” said the doctor.

Sherlock jerked his chin to your direction, “How much does the dear girl here know?”

“Well, I…not much,” the doctor blushed and looked back to you, “Miss Newalkar, your thoughts on the job position role?”

You swallowed and nodded slowly, “I accept the conditions, thankyou for your most gracious offering, Doctor Babu.”

The doctor smiled and carefully touched your back, leading you to the exist of his office as he happily stated.

“Splendid! Please, this is the contract. Sign it and return with your belongings later on a few hours while I converse with my friend and guest.”

You looked back at the mysterious Sherlock Holmes and back to the contract. You wobbled your head in goodbye and went on your way. The way you could feel his eyes over your body walking away made you shiver. He was a intimidateding looking man. You left the home and slipped your sandals on.

You thought about how you would now be the housekeeper of a prestigious British family in the community. A wave of relief to your stability washed over you. You didn’t need to crawl to your father and your mother’s family. You started smiling ear to ear. All you needed to do was take care of a house and baby-sit an Englishman who was vulnerable to these new lands.

“Did you see him go in?” Anjuli smirked from the ox cart, waving you over, “The British man you fancied?”

You jerked your chin up proudly exclaiming, “I met him.”

Your friend gasped with a wide smile, “What is he like?”

“I don’t really know,” you shrugged before waving the contract in front of your friends face, “but I am going to be his housekeeper, I need to inform the school of my resignation.”

Anjuli looked at the contract, she couldn't read english but made a light sad sound and sucked her teeth before sighing, “Oh, those children will miss you dearly.”

And that you could both agree. You grabbed the ox reigns and tapped its flank with the cane rolling back to the school again quickly to collect your last wage.

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[cocobeanncteez]

Song Series One-shot: Jung Wooyoung - Dance Like We're Making Love by Ciara

Genre: fluff, suggestive, lots of dancing, non-idol au

Pairing: dance instructor!Wooyoung x fem!dancer!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, suggestive dancing in a nightclub setting, kissing under the influence

Disclaimer: Please note that my Song Series One-shots are purely based on how I personally interpret the lyrics of the songs I chose for this series, or the way the song inspired my writing for the one-shot. It is not based on the music video (if it has one).

The party was electric, alive with the pulsating rhythm of deep bass and the flickering kaleidoscope of strobe lights. Bodies swayed and twisted in time with the music, creating a dynamic sea of motion. The energy here was still high despite how late in the night it was.

Amidst these alcohol-buzzed or drunk bodies stood Jung Wooyoung, a beacon of effortless grace. His movements were precise, each step and turn executed with an almost feline agility, drawing multiple eyes towards him.

Was it the way he was dancing that attracted the eyes of many? Frankly speaking, you knew it was because he looked extremely good tonight. It would only take another dancer to analyze the way he was dancing. Being a dancer yourself, you're drawn to the way he moved, executing his moves with such perfection. But as a woman, you couldn't deny that you were drawn to his attractiveness.

Jung Wooyoung wasn't an unfamiliar face to you. The two of you briefly met at a dance studio while attending a mutual friend's dance workshop. You knew Wooyoung recently became a dance instructor since you actually attended one of his own workshops, and you were on your own path to becoming an instructor as well. You recalled the way he had looked at you at the studio, and you couldn't help but want to talk to him, but unfortunately, there were just too many people there at that time and you had to head out early to run some errands.

You watched Wooyoung from your shadowed corner in the nightclub, separated by the crowd, but connected by an unspoken invitation. The sweat on your skin glistened under the club's neon lights, the heat from the dense crowd amplifying the pulsating beats that filled the space.

Wooyoung's gaze met yours across the distance, his eyes twinkling with a playful, daring light that beckoned you closer.

You were going to go to him.

But first, you needed to take a shot of Hennessey.

You wasted no time in buying three shots at the bar, downing them as fast as you could. Wooyoung watched you from afar, debating whether or not you would come to him or if he should go up to you.

You waited for a moment to feel a lot more buzzed after the shot before you felt compelled by the newfound boldness from the alcohol. You navigated the packed dance floor, your heart racing with anticipation. The people around seemed to have parted like the sea, their forms blurring in your peripheral vision as you moved closer to Wooyoung.

When you finally reached him, he greeted you with a sly grin, his eyes shining with the thrill of the chase; you came to him first, after all. Not that he didn't want to approach you first, but he just wanted to make sure you wanted to be around him first so he could avoid rejection just in case, even though he didn't miss the way you were checking him out the whole time.

He reached out, his hand cutting through the humid air to find yours, and a jolt of electricity shot through you upon contact. The crowd seemed to sense the shift, the lights softening to a warm glow that bathed the two of you in an ethereal light. For a moment, the world narrowed to just the space you two had occupied.

As you both began to move to the music, your bodies found a natural rhythm, falling into sync with each other as if drawn by a magnetic force. Wooyoung’s hands were confident on your waist, steering you gently but firmly, his movements suggesting familiarity and a shared language of motion, all while being careful to see if he made you uncomfortable in any way. You could feel his heartbeat, a steady pulse that harmonized with the bass vibrating through the floor.

"Y/N..." he whispered your name in your ear, and goosebumps arose on your skin. He remembered your name from when you had introduced yourself at the dance workshop. "You look beautiful tonight."

"So do you," you complimented back, causing a smirk to arise on his face. "You always have."

A group of drunk guys dancing beside you both were jumping crazily to the music, and one of them almost crashed into you, but Wooyoung held his arm out to protect you. He moved a couple of steps away from the guys, bringing you along with him so there was some safe distance.

"Thank you," you grinned, going back to dancing. When the song changed to something more sexy and upbeat, a song familiar to you. When the song reached the chorus, you placed a hand on Wooyoung's chest, dragging your hand down his body while you did the slutdrop dance move, sticking your ass out more when you came back up, giving him a wink.

Wooyoung grinned, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He spinned you around and brought you close to his body. "I've wanted to dance with you for a long time now," he confessed, swaying your body with his own, increasing your confidence. The way the two of you were dancing together tonight felt so intimate, so electrifying, it was like as if you were making love.

Maybe his words give you a whole new confidence boost, for you gave him a sultry glance before you turned around, pressing your backside against his front, making sure the way you moved your hips on him would be enough to tease him, enough to turn him on.

But Wooyoung wasn't going to give in to you until he was a thousand percent certain this is what you wanted.

When you turned back to face him, he snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you close to his body again. He leaned down, carefully watching the way you reacted to him. He stopped a few centimeters away from your lips, and you closed your eyes, ready to finally get a taste of him.

But he pulled away to tease you, and when you opened your eyes, you narrowed it at him. You couldn't tell if you were intoxicated by the alcohol or by Wooyoung's mere presence, but it was enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face to yours.

And finally, your lips connected. The kiss was hungry, sloppy, your hands were in his hair, his hands were gripping your waist, and the music in the background seemed to match the way the two of you were kissing on the dance floor. You could taste the alcohol on his lips, a hint of mint peeking through which you assumed might be from the mojito you noticed him drinking earlier.

Wooyoung's tongue swiped your upper lip, asking for permission. You parted your lips more allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth, the minty taste becoming more prominent while your tongue battled with his own, fighting for dominance. You pulled away to catch your breath, your eyes never leaving his. He smirked, holding you close to him.

Your dance evolved as the night deepened, becoming an even more intimate dialogue of spins and sways. Each gesture and step wove a deeper connection, crafting a story only you two could tell. The air around you charged with energy, your synchronized movements crafting a bubble, a private moment, that isolated you from the rest of the world, just like love making.

The heat between you built with each song, your shared glances and touches weaving a tapestry of desire and anticipation. Despite the decelerating beats, the chemistry between you never lost its fervor, each look and touch intensifying the silent promises made in the rhythm of your shared movements.

As the last song tapered off into a soft melody, you both paused, the absence of movement amplifying the bond you felt. The crowd's noise returned, but the connection forged on the dance floor remained palpable, a lingering charge in the air between you.

Wooyoung’s breath was warm on your ear as he leaned in, his whisper sending a thrill through you. "Let's keep dancing," he murmured, his voice a velvety promise that sent anticipatory shivers down your spine.

You nodded, your heart full of exhilaration and curiosity for where the night's rhythm would lead you next. With Wooyoung’s hand in yours, you stepped back into the dance, ready to explore the unfolding journey of beats and heartbeats, knowing that the night was still young, and the dance far from over.

[defnotciara]

⋆｡˚୨ Welcome to my blog! ୧˚｡⋆

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ My Introduction ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Name: Ciara 🎀

Interests/Hobbies: Shifting, anime, scripting, video games, k/c/j drama, learning stuff, posting literally anything, talking to friends, and i like collecting anime figures too.., etc etc.

On this blog i plan on posting lots of stuff mainly shifting maybe some stuff about my life like a online diary sorta thing?

Shows/Movies/Manga i like: Be with you 2018, silent voice, aot, mha, jjk, nana, haikyu, maid sama, saiki k, sk8 the infinity, Doctor Slump, and sm more!

Manwha/Manhua: Remarried empress, marry my husband, the protagonist is a villianess (These r the only ones i’ve read so far please recommend if you have any i may like!)

Characters in like: Armin (Aot), Bakugo/Shinso/Ochako/Shigiraki/Iida/Mina/Tamaki/Aizawa (Mha), Nanami/Nobara/Hiroguma/Choso/Yuji (Jjk) And many more !

Omgg please recommend animes/shows for me to watch or any type ! Also please dont spoil any of the shows i like bc i haven’t finished some of them 😭

My Drs: Mha, jjk, fame, kpop idol, royalty, better cr, aot, ( maybe saiki k? Still debating )

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿

- I’d love to be mutals with any of youu just ask !! ♡

I’m not sure what else to put here because this is my first time ever posting on tumblr so maybe in the future i’ll update this more??

Dni: 21+ people (You can still flw me but i won’t dm u or anything js bc of some experiences i had before) Anti shifters, racists/homophobes (This is a safe blog for everyone no matter who u are or what u look like ♡, and basically anyone who would make my or anyone else’s experience on this blog/app bad!

Thanks for reading i love you all bye!!

[bisexualboysbroadcast]

I cannot believe we’re already on episode five time is moving way too goddamn fast😭

[spliffymae]

COLD.

synopsis: oh, how foolish were you. to think a stranger emerging from the waters would be your one true love.

⚠️exhusband!sukuna, swearing, mentions of witchcraft, reader is like tia dalma from pirates of the caribbean, alternate universe but sukuna HAS a curse instead of being one, reader is scorned, toxicity, mentions of smut, this is a whole magical fictional world i’m making up so just keep that in mind

kio’s notes - i have been dyinggg to do a fic like this. i just finished ahs hotel and am literally full of inspo lmao. this is heavily influenced by hotel and pirates of the caribbean, as well as the vampire diaries!

now playing

⊱ ──────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.}──────── ⊰

there was something comical about the concept of irony, sukuna thought. to have a state of affairs or an event that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects and is often amusing as a result. it was funny how it worked.

take you for example. you were a third generation bayou witch, born under calypso, the goddess of the sea. the sea. an enchanting pool of life. you lived for it, you would die for it. it gave you everything and more; power, warmth, beauty, guidance. it was a custom for those born under calypso to have a bond with the sea, but your bond was a bond no one had ever seen before.

the sea was naturally at no command but that of the mother, calypso. it was to be used as a partner for her descendants. but you, you were different. you and the sea were one in the same, similar to that of the goddess herself. the crabs would crawl from the water to your feet and the dolphins would jump out the water with joy at your presence.

you had a captivity over the sea that not even most of your village’s elders had seen. and it was fascinating. to watch you sit on the rocks at the bottom of a cliff, and play with the angry waters. the sea was mischievous, as were you. you two were friends, the best of friends.

until one day, when you met ryomen sukuna.

he was something you had never seen before. a man with fuchsia hair and markings along his body. his skin olive, only just kissed by the sun when comparing to you and your villages various shades of melanin. some were like him, but their features not so….thin.

“who might you be?” he had inquired about you the second he laid his eyes on you. vermillion orbs that shone like blood under moonlight.

“that question seems more appropriate for you to answer, seeing as how you emerged from the see and all.” you stood along the rocky shoreline, arms folded and eyes narrowed at the man.

the man appreciated your candor. he told you his name, ryomen sukuna, a lost and stranded seaman, separated from his crew and ship.

he quickly took to you, like baby sea turtles do to the water after they hatch. he followed you back to your village where you let him stay with you out of hospitality, of course.

he explained his ship had been merely passing through when they were hit by rough and choppy waters. he was too close to the edge of the ship and got thrown overboard, then pushed down by the waves. he couldn’t go anywhere else.

you let him stay for some nights. you fed him, clothed him, took him to explore your village and meet your people. he seemed rather excited to be with you, to see.

your people clung to him. elders marveled in his looks and build. the men had him work on putting up homes and collecting from the trees. he would go on to help them hunt.

yes, everyone you knew and loved loved sukuna.

well, almost everyone.

your first love, the sea, was not accepting of your new acquaintance. you had taken him to visit the waterfall that separated your village from the mainlands, expecting for him to be able to step in and feel the channeling current. but when he approached the end of the land, right where the sea would meet his foot, there was a crashing wave that rolled down the waterfall. it took you by surprise. the waterfall was the calmest part but when sukuna ever entered it’s proximity, it became violent.

“i don’t understand,” you spoke to your eldest shaman, lucille, one night standing on the shore and looking out at the salt watered bed of sea that was your best friend. “did i upset the goddess, uncle? is she vex with me?” you turn to him curious, confused, and begging for clarity.

the older man pursed his wrinkly lips and shrugged, gold plated earrings dangling as he did so, “the sea is an inconsistent lover, (y/n). no mortal holds the answers to her ways. but with time she reveals the truth, the answers.”

the sea was pulling away from you, and simultaneously pushing you towards sukuna. he quickly became to you what the sea once was; comfort, safety, a friend. the more time you spent with sukuna, the less you were at the shoreline. the less time you spent sitting on the rocks and casting enchantments over them as the waves crashed into them. the less you spent practicing your magic rituals. sukuna became your other half, slowly untying your bond to the sea.

sukuna found out about your witch bloodline when you two started dating. you had healed him from a gatherrer incident with a family healing spell. he remembered there being a cut along his torso, but you smudged a paste into it and mumbled something he couldn’t understand. next thing he knew, he was healed.

his stay in the village had gone from one night to three, three nights to two weeks, weeks to a month, and in time, sukuna became an addition to your village. to your life.

when he proposed, he used your great grandmothers gold ring, one which she enchanted to bring everlasting happiness to all beating hearts who wore it and formed marital unions through it.

when you married, the day was gloomy, the waters were angry, but you were blinded by love and so were given away by your family to sukuna, your new husband.

sukuna soon became interested in your family’s history. he would read their grimoires and ask you questions, help you with spells and even come with you to the annual celebrations of the ancestors .

you loved him with all your heart, for he was yours. but the more days progressed within your marriage, the more an emptiness filled you. you became cold, more so than usual. you were feeling ill, and hadn’t been practicing your magic as often or as effectively as you once were.

the sickness seemed to progress. and as it grew, so did an unhappiness in your life. your days were not a rich blue of skies and water anymore. they were grey clouds casted over such somber tides. it was depressing.

“kuna, my love, i feel rather…weak.” you expressed to your husband one day, stumbling into the kitchen to find him sipping a cup of ale and reading your mothers book of spells, something he did every evening after coming home from work.

he looked up at you with concern, “my dear, you look awful.” he was referring to the absence of glow on your skin. your eyes weighed down by dark circles, whites of them red from fatigue. your hands were ice cold and shaking.

“my body feels as if the roughest of bark is under my skin. i am so thirsty and cold.” you grabbed the jug of ale before and brought it to your lips, chugging the liquid down. you needed to quench the thirst. unbeknownst to you, though, sukuna watched in amusement.

your illness only grew and the people of your village became concerned. day in and out after all, you were the descendant of the goddess, you were blessed with outlasting health, like the waves. the villagers would come to your door, bearing gifts of meals, remedies, potions and offerings to the ancestors on your behalf. but nothing seemed to work.

sukuna stood right by your side, tending to you like a doting husband. he bathed you when you were too weak to stand, cooked and fed you when yo couldn’t feed yourself. he would warm you up by the fireplace, wrapping his arms around your shivering frame. he was your rock.

or so you thought.

what sukuna was actually doing was marveling at the irony before him. a woman born of the ocean. born by and with the power of the sea. you were born to connect with nature, to be a link between the goddess and her people. but oh, how that would never truly happen.

“i didn’t mean to! sh-she was hurt and i was trying to help but she just smelt so good a-and, oh my gosh!” you were pacing back and forth in your home, tears spilling out your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.

the lower half of your face was covered in blood but not your own! from one of the villagers, rella, who had come to you for a healing spell. she had cut her palm while fishing, a simple gash she knew your paste could fix.

you had done it a hundred times before, but this time it was different. there was a sweet aroma she had. one that made your mouth water and jaw hurt. it was emitting from her palm.

you remember the last thing you did was stare at her palm with a hungry gaze, the dark crimson of her blood practically calling out to you.

when you came to, she was dead before you, neck slashed open and body lifeless. and you, your face and hands were covered in her blood.

“i was wonderin’ when my lil wedding gift would arrive for you, my love.” sukuna smiled, sitting on the couch and watching your panicked expression.

“kuna. i-i don’t understand.” you felt sick, but at the same time you never felt more alive. your body felt like it had just been shocked back awake. your senses were tingling and heart beating faster than you’ve ever felt before. you were practically vibrating.

“well, i guess i might as well take the cat out the bag now, huh? i turned you.” he said nonchalantly, easing back onto the couch.

you furrowed your brows, “you…turned…me?”

sukuna nodded, “a part of marriage is ‘for better or for worse’, right? and i thought ‘it’s time for my wife to get my worse’. so i turned you.” he shrugged.

you started to get irritated, “ryomen fucking explain! what the hell do you mean turned me?!”

“don’t act like you don’t know, dear. i’ve read all your family’s grimoires, listened to all the elders, i know you know about the curse. the sickness that grants you immortality but an insatiable appetite. the one that—and this is quoting uncle, ‘the devil bestowed to only the darkest of demons’.”

your eyes widened in shock. “y-you were…you turned me into….” you couldn’t finish your sentence. not when you were struggling to speak over the heart that was breaking within your chest.

“think of it as my parting gift, dear. you and me are now tied to and for eternity. it’s a blessing, you’ll see.” he got up from the couch with a cocky and smug smile. he passed you to go upstairs and gave your frozen face a kiss on the cheek. “think i overstayed my welcome here. m’gonna head out tomorrow morning.” he mumbled against your skin.

when he left, and you heard the click of the bedroom door, you ran outside. you made a beeline to the elders region of the village, to the temple where the ancestors’ idols were.

it was late at night, but you needed answers. you needed help.

when you showed up, lucille was praying under calypso. “lucille!” your cry opened his eyes and he grimaced at the horrific sight of you.

“child, what has happened?” he was shocked. the aura he felt off you was not your usual one of warmth and love. he felt nothing. he couldn’t see your warmth anymore. and worse of all, he couldn’t feel the goddess through you.

you were a sobbing mess, you looked terrifying, and you felt as cold as the sea during winter. “something horrible, lucille. sukuna he, he turned me and i don’t know how to change it. help me! ask the goddess, please!” you had fallen to your knees before him to beg.

lucille felt his breath hitch into his throat, “your husband? he was a cursed creature?”

“i didn’t know. lucille please i swear to you i didn’t know i was just trying to heal rella and—she just smelled so good i...” you shook your head and sobbed out. the level of betrayal was far to great to put in simplistic terms. you were disgusted with yourself, with your actions.

lucille wanted to help you, he did. but he had no time as a commotion was heard from afar. “find her! it is her head on a stick i want. that bloody creature killed my girl!” you could hear the cries of rella’s father amongst the uproar.

you turned back to lucille, who looked down at you with a stone cold expression. “lucille,” you plead, holding your hands out for him, “help me please.”

heartbreaking. that’s the best way you could put what happened next. lucille looked down on you with disgust darkening in his eyes and a snarl, “the problem is (y/n), i can’t. you are a beast, now. a god awful creature of the earth. you will live in misery, in isolation from life and love. your bloodlust will consume you, and you will know only the horrific cries of your victims for the rest of eternity. you’re not mortal, anymore. there’s nothing i can do but tell you to run. run and pray you find a quick death.”

there was silence after that. you were too stunned to speak. lucille was an elder who was like your grandfather. he saw a vision of you prior to your conception and told you mother of the great force she would give birth to, the change her child would make on the village. but if only he knew the type of change you would bring.

you sobbed out, “please don’t do this, lucille. please! i need you, i need the goddess!” you gripped onto his robe, but he didn’t budge.

“she’s here!” he yelled for the mob as his eyes remained on you. you could see the hurt that clouded them, but it was brief as he blinked it away.

you stood up and without a second thought, ran for the waters. the temple was yards from the waterfall, so you had to run as quick as possible. if you could jump off, you could swim to the mainlands. or get pierced by a sharp rock. either way, you knew you’d be free.

“there! grab her!”

“she’s headed for the mainlands! we’ll lose her if she passes!”

“stop! answer for your crimes!”

“kill her! i want her to burn!”

the threatening screams of your people, the animosity that radiated off them. you were running through the forest with tears blurring your vision.

you were all alone. you were defenseless. not an ally amongst them. they had all changed their minds about you. you were no longer the goddess’ proxy. you were no longer the villages healer. you were no longer the third generation bayou witch, who would lead her village to eternal success.

no. you were a creature bound to live as long as earth spun on its axis. you were cursed with a hunger that could not be sedated. you craved the blood that ran through the bodies of those you once loved most. you were powerless, you were disconnected from nature.

but worse of all, you were forever cold. and it was all thanks to ryomen sukuna, your ex-husband.

[solar-halos]

okay i watched speak no evil (2022) and it was just as frustrating as u all promised. here are my thoughts

1. patrick seemed a bit more unlikeable in this one?? like even at the beginning when he was supposed to be in prime Manipulation Mode. idk maybe i’m biased to the 2024’s british-ness though

2. i also watched this one with my brother and right from the beginning he was being a certified complainer about the acting. i liked it though bc it felt less scripted in a way?? like idk they truly did just seem like an awkward little family that was excited to have new friends

3. i liked ciara here haha. im sorry im so awful with names (as u could tell by my last speak no evil rant LOL i couldn’t even remember ant’s name). i liked her in the 2024 version too, she was very (outwardly) bubbly and sweet, but i like how in this was she lowkey was not monkeying around. like louise said their house was small and she went “sorry we’re not made of money :/ get fucked idiots.” if anything i feel like patrick was the one getting all 🥺🥺

4. speaking of abel… why did they change his name to ANT in the remake?? like okay. maybe they were worried about a name like abel sticking out but like… i don’t know. they’re eccentric i feel like they could pull off having a kid named that

5. the stuffed animal scene!! lowkey think i prefer the twist of it being in the car the entire time bc it made everything so much more pointless but in a good way. like. yeah of course everything they did was for nothing bc whether or not the stuffed animal was in the car the entire time they still would have met the same fate bc the parents have no BACKBONE. if that makes any sense

6. okay… i think in europe nudity isn’t really that big of a deal and stuff, but i still was like literally so shocked that louise let the whole “patrick sleeping next to my daughter NAKED” thing slide. like even in the 2024 version where he was (minimally) clothed and ciara went into her whole sob story i still was so upset that louise let it slide bc the fact of the matter is that they still shouldn’t have had agnes in their bed. i do think that “where were you?” line ate downnn though

7. with that being said, the parents seem to love each other a lottt more. i actually did like how in this version they heard agnes asking for them but ignored her, maybe that’s why they didn’t try arguing with ciara and patrick that much about it (but even then… girl. patrick was butt booty naked. how the fuck was that not something we lingered on)

8. so many of the scenes were shot for shot with the remake, except for the last leg of the movie. i won’t talk about how the americans changed it into a thriller instead of unnerving dark cautionary tale and blah blah blah but i am gonna say that i prefer the american one ONLY BECAUSE there was an attempt to fight back. like im not asking for this big action-y scene where they crack skulls and shank their captors. im just asking for them to at least TRY. the biggest example that sticks out to me was when patrick left the car to go piss and the husband literally just sat there and stared at they keys. i feel like if we tried to grab them but then he got smacked around by the wife (or even if the wife stabbed him w the scissors she had!!) it would have given everything more tension while still making u frustrated that the husband didn’t just try to stick it out even though it was a losing battle

does that make sense? lol like maybe he could be lunging for the keys and ciara stabs him but he’s still trying to squirm into the drivers seat. but he’s not fast enough. and we as the audience know he’s not gonna be fast enough—especially when patrick notices something is wrong—but we’re still screaming at the screen anyway to tell him to hurry the fuck up

9. they drowned abel!!!! :o

10. as u can prob tell i’m not very smart so when i watched the 2024 version and ant showed agnes the shed of all their victims i lowkey didn’t understand the specifics. like i knew that they were tryna kill the parents + take agnes but that was only bc of context clues. so when this scene came on in the 2022 version i felt like i could enjoy the creep factor much more as it showed the progression of their victims

11. i lowkey did not understand that scene where their car got stuck. like i guess they ended up calling patrick but personally if that were my family my dad would be like “hold up… im pushing the car forward” which would arguably be a worse plan than leaving ur wife and children in the vicinity of literal murderers but. yk. if me and my family were in this movie there wouldn’t BE a movie bc my dad does not fuck w the white man

12. lowkey louise was so robbed of agency in this movie. no wonder she started stripping without knowing what was up, in her pov her husband was acting strange and then her daughter got ripped away from her she literally had none of the desperation her man did to escape!!

13. the babysitter being a part of this. yall can’t tell me that what they’re doing isn’t some sort of cult-y community thing bc wtf. the same could be said for the 2024 version i suppose but i think the most american thing about this was we went “oh a brown immigrant man assisting in murdering and abducting children…? we have to scrap that” (which just to be clear i am glad we did scrap that. it’s just interesting seeing what other countries are doing esp since this movie was only made 2 years ago)

14. them stripping and getting stoned to death wtf!!!! again i don’t have a problem with this ending trust me. i love how dark it is. i just have a problem w the fact that they didnt TRY to do anything even though they knew patrick and ciara didnt have weapons. when they took agnes away louise started hitting at things instead of ciara and patrick, and my brother took a real big problem with that (he called it a temper tantrum lol) and yeah it made me roll my eyes too but i didn’t mind it bc at least she was given SOME fire. but idk maybe im just too american it seems like every time ur like “i just wish they would have pushed back a lil more” film critics are like “classic americans… not everything needs a big action scene to be considered cinema” like trust me im not asking for that. even when patrick threw like two (2) punches at the husband it would have been so much better if the husband got a blow in. not bc it would have turned the tide but bc they’re all already in too deep that a lil punch wasn’t gonna fix anything by a long shot

15. oh! my brother pointed out that at the end when they were getting stoned to the death the same italian opera song came on to parallel the beginning

16. okayyy i think that’s it

[taiiunknown]

I BET ! (WHIPPED CREAM PT2)

Disclaimer: THIS STORY IS BASED ON THE SONG “I BET” by Ciara. The story will not be as long bc SPOILER ALERT 🚨 y/n will be leaving shuri for RiRi 💋 … Anywho enjoy 😉

⚠️ warning: HEAVY SMUT , KINDA HARDCORE SHOWER SEX SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !, name calling, kinda mean shuri but a little of nice shuri, daddy & mommy kink, Y/N is indecisive

Note: y’all I did not go over nor edit this so please excuse me for typos and ect … hope you enjoy 😉

It has been 9 Months of being in a relationship with shuri , and trust me I have been getting treated like shit since we been together. She told me she love me everyday and I believe it bc I have so much love for her as well, and besides we have been through a lot with each other..but I think it’s time to move on from each other bc due to her cheating and manipulating me I have been stuck in the bubble of if she loves me or just using me.

*A month ago*

“Shuri? Who keeps blowing up you phone..it’s literally two in the morning!” I asked rubbing sleep out of my eye while checking the time on my phone “Shuri ?” I look around and see she want in bed , but I hear the shower on , she must just now getting home..

I reach over to her phone to decline the call due to me thinking it was a scam caller. I flip the phone over and see “makayla” who tf is that ?. I was choosing between answering or just asking who makayla is . I was so deep in my thoughts I didn’t even hear the bathroom door open until I heard shuri say “The fuck is you doing y/n?” Shuri said in a annoyed tone “who is makayla shuri ?” I said with a tear filled eye “No one” she says walking up and snatching her phone from me “Shuri it can’t be “no one” WHEN SHE IS BLOWING UP YOUR PHONE AT 2 AM!!!” I yelled , “First watch your tone! I told you about your mouth for a week now, So CHILL !” she yelled back “NO YOU STFU! AND LET ME TALK FOR ONCE BC YOUR SORRY ASS LIES YOURE FINNA TELL WONT MAKE ME BLIND ! SO FUCKING ANSWER ME WHEN I ASK WHO TF IS MAKAYLA?!” Believe it or not I was shocked by my own words bc I have never stood up to shuri like this before, Maybe bc she use to be sweet and loving, and just peaceful …but this new shuri can rot in hell ! “She a friend I met at the Royal gala 6 months ago when we went together to announce us becoming a serious couple” she said lowly , I guess she was feeling guilty bc atp I’m shedding tears and almost snot bubbles . “are you sleeping with her ?” I asked looking at my thighs that are now crossed crossed on the bed “Ya” she said with a evil grin , WHAT TF IS WRONG WITH THIS BITCH?!!! “Okay” I said in a non caring voice bc at this moment I knew I was done , so I rushed passed her to get to our walk in closet to pack all my things . “WHAT ARE YOU DOING Y/N ?!” Shuri yelled pulling me by my waist and away from the closet, “LET ME GO , IM LEAVING YOU! MAYBE MYKEL WOULDNT MIND A VISIT FROM ME !” I said tryna get from her grip that only grew tighter bc at that moment all hell was finna break loose when I said his name , on top of that she haven’t heard his name come out my name since she made me stop talking to him. She turned me around around with full force but at the same time not to hard to hurt me , grabbed my shirt and kissed me HARD with full passion , I gave in and kissed back , she lifted me off the ground and carried me back to the bed and started ripping my clothes off including my panties ( I don’t sleep with a bra on) and shoved 3 fingers in with no warning , which made me yelp a moan . Shuri began drilling me with full force and I was a teary eye moaning mess ! “BABY IM FINNA C-CUM !” I screamed “DONT YOU FUCKING DARE ! YOU SLUT ! YOU WANNA GIVE WHATS MINE AND YOU KNOW BETTER TO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT WALKING OUT THAT DOOR! uyaqonda ! ( DO YOU UNDERSTAND!)??” Shuri said while slapping my clit which made it jump “Y-Y-YES!!!” I squeal “YES WHAT USANA ?” Shuri said slapping my one more time bc she felt my cunt tighten around her fingers which mean I was finna break any minute . “YE-S D-DA-DY! PLEASELETMECUM!!!” I screamed “Go ahead y/n” she said while kissing my face to cover the hot tears I had coming down “Shit I love you so much” I said lowly while tryna come down from my high after cumming hard . “ I love you to my love” she said kissing my lips softly “ I love this pussy too” she said cheekily while now kissing my pussy lips . “Don’t ever try me like that again, Okay?” She said with a stern face while slapping my sensitive clit which made a moan slip out my mouth “yes daddy, I’m sorry” I said feeling like I overreacted over the whole situation.

After she cleaned me up and tuck me back into bed while pulling me closely to her . I dozed off after that.

*END OF FLASH BACK*

But now I’m a new bitch who don’t take shit , even though I’m just now turning into this new bitch now . To be honest I didn’t get the balls to finally leave until two hours ago when I found out I really wanna take Riri serious, Yes! I have been talking to Riri on the low for 4 weeks now and Yes! I have a burner phone to talk to her on since Shuri started putting heavy security and monitoring everything I do, she started doing that the same night I tried to leave her so it’s basically like I don’t want to leave but I do but at the same time she won’t let me leave so I’m kinda like a indecent prisoner.

Riri was a old friend I met when I use to go from America to Wakanda all the time and we hit it off and fucked twice, but shuri doesn’t know about me and Riri and hopefully she won’t find out about us soon.

I’ve been looking for cute condos and Riri texted me today telling me that I can move in sooner than I expected, ( yes the condo is in Riri name so if shuri do try to find me it might now be easy for her). Now that I know I’m good on my living situation, all I have to do is find a way to leave without Shuri knowing . Im thinking of putting something in shuri food that will put her to sleep for some hours and then leave but if I do go through with this plan ima have to use a large dose since she is the black panther .

*NEXT DAY*

It is 6 am and shuri usually work out around this time while I make her morning smoothies and yesterday when I went to my close friend who knew about my situation ( Her name is tranese she is half American and Wakandan to) she is from the River tribe , she found some sleeping fruit that she said with 80% help with putting shuri to sleep and bast and god knows I really hope this works !

“hey usana, my smoothie ready ?” Shuri asked wrapping her hands around my waist while I cut her bananas “yes my love” I say “okay hurry, you know I don’t like being late to my lab so chop chop.” She saying kissing my shoulder blade, chop chop ? Bitch I will chop your fuckin- “Y/N DO YOU HEAR ME?!” Shuri says coming out the bathroom, I was so caught up in my head I didn’t hear her say she wanted to shower with me “Here I come let me blend this right quick” I say quietly “Alright” she says smiling . By the time I’m done pouring the smoothing I’m her to go bottle I take the crush plant and secretly sprinkle all of it inside the bottle and quickly shake it up, by the time im done come back in with her boy shorts and no bra “let’s go I don’t have all day ma” I quickly towards the room to enter the bathroom

*IN THE SHOWER*

I couldn’t even strip my self bc as soon as I step foot in the bathroom shuri quickly began stripping me and tearing my underwear in the making of it, “baby I actually like those” I said a little hurt bc the were a cute collection I bout online “I AM THE QUEEN OF WAKANDA,DO YOU NOT THINK I CAN BUT YOU 5,000 PAIR OF THOSE ?! MHM !” She yelled in my face as I backed into the shower wall (ngl she was turning me on with all the dominance she held) “no” I whisper “NO WHAT ?!” She growled “no daddy” I said half confident while now looking in her dark lustful eyes “Good girl, now bend over that wall and arch that little frame of yours” I did as told with out hesitation bc I do not want her to take away my chance of cumming for her “GRIOT ACTIVATE VIBRANIUM!” “Yes Queen shuri” I soon felt a very long gliding up and down my lower lips, a moan quickly slip from lips but turner into a louder one when shuri unexpectedly shoved the dick in my cat with hard fast strokes that almost had me coming in one second ! Pleasure tears started to fall from my eyes as she started talking dirty with going at the same pace with a little tight hold on my throat “UYAKUTHANDA UKUHLANGABEZWA KANJE AWUTHANDI NAWE PRINCESS?!” (YOU LOVE GETTING FUCKED LIKE THIS DONT YOU PRINCESS ?!) shuri says not letting up one but bc she tryna give me and her one of the biggest orgasms “YES DADDY ! FUCK MOMMY YOU GIVING IT TOO ME SO G-GOOD UGHHHHHHH” I screamed. Even though me and her been going through so hard things , she is the person I love the most but that doesn’t mean I still have to stay here “YOURE MY LITTLE SLUT ?!” She asked biting my ear “YES BABY NDILILO LAKHO! UMAMA WAM NGOWAKHO MAMA !” (IM YOUR SLUT ! MY PUSSY IS YOURS MOMMY !) I moaned quickly knowing it kinda sound like gibberish “I know my sweet girl, ndiyakuthanda kakhulu ima ndifake intwana kuwe” (i love you so much ima put a little one in you) when she said that I literally fell in love with her all over again bc that’s all I have wished for me and her “you want my bby ?” Shuri say while moaning a little that’s how I knew she was close “ Yes I want that s-s-so FUCKINGMUCH!” I said while throwing it back on her “say less Y/N” she says afterwards was a blur…

I woke up with one of shuri large shirts that looked like a dress on me due to the different height difference I checked the time and seen it was 3pm, did I pass out ?!, when I look to the side I see that shuri was beside me but I also notice he smoothie bottle that was beside her on the night stand… I quickly get up and go on her side of the room to see if it was empty or full and THAT BITCH WAS CLEARED ! I started snapping my finger in shuri face to see if her panther senses was working and thank bass the plant worked but it wouldn’t last for long considering how strong her powers were so hurried up and took the suitcase I hit in the hall closet and pulled on some legging with crocs along with grabbing my , two phones, charger and leaving my letter on my side of the bed so when shuri roll over and see I’m not beside her she would see the letter instead. I hurry and called tranese so she can sneak me pass the boarder since her boyfriend work the exits , as I made it pass the royal guards I froze and started rubbing my belly that started feeling a little overwhelmed when I looked up I seen ayo who winked at me since she knew what was going on as well and wanted me to be happy. I quickly aboard the talon and take off slightly missing shuri already and feeling guilty, but this was a new beginning for me,

And my baby. Until we meet again shuri yam emnandi (my sweet shuri)

Love you shuri Udaku

AKA , Aja-Adanna

[thelongforgottenrealm]

LADY EABHA CALLEARY / KEIRA KNIGHTLEY

♛ Age: 30 ♛ Relationships: Aine Lorcan, Fiona Calleary (sisters), Cormac Calleary. Finn Calleary (brother), Padraig Lorcan (brother-in-law), Ciara Varmont, Eoin Varmont (cousins), Bartholomew Varmont (uncle), Rian Stafford, Godfrey Calanion (enemies), Eithne Malconaire, Brigit Malconaire, Eilionora Stafford, Laoirse Lorcan, Aisling Lorcan (best friends), Kale Brennan (childhood friend/occasional flirtation), Aleksander Royce, Alaric Varmont (potential husbands), Garbhan Stafford (past interest)

Like both Eithne and Eilionora, Eabha had her birthright stripped away from her when Roderick claimed Astaira

and while she does not see this as a blessing, ultimately it likely saved her life

her own father did not bend the knee and he payed for that with his life

roderick claimed the calleary family seat for his own and gifted it to godfrey upon his engagement to ciara varmont -- their mutual cousin

due to both the family ties and the fact that cormac, who is now her father's heir, was so quick to bend the knee, neither eabha nor her siblings suffered any more consequences from their father's actions, even if eabha, herself, never would have submitted to roderick

cormac has been gifted a smaller, more northern estate

but as it was damaged so severely in the war, she and her siblings are residing at lorcan until such repairs can be made

while eabha once had her independence, she now realizes that she is now under the less than reliable protection of her younger brother, cormac, and that she may need to find a suitable husband -- for she knows that cormac will only run his new estate into the ground

while she's not thrilled about the idea, nor her choices, she has come to the conclusion that either alaric or aleksander would, at least, be kind to her

she feels, however, that every move any of them make is being watched closely by rian stafford, who has been placed in charge of lorcan until her brother-in-law returns to claim it

she has an uneasy feeling that any misstep by any of them will result in their removal and that rian would be only all too happy to claim both lorcan and cormac's new seat for himself

is determined not to give up on her own people!!!!

doesn't trust godfrey, either, but is determined to make sure that they have everything they need and will go through ciara once they are married if she cannot go through him

(honestly has probably snuck back to hanthom once or twice with her sisters bringing food and supplies and just generally making sure they are all okay!!)

once secretly had feelings for garbhan stafford when she met him years ago but meeting him now again, she's ashamed she ever felt that way!!

TAKEN BY KATE AA.

[mariejordans]

4, 5, and 6 of the character ask questions for Jordan Li and Marie Moreau please 👀

oh i’m so excited to answer these questions! thank you for sending them in!

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

i feel like the obvious answer for marie would be avatar: the last airbender, because, hello, bloodbending…and because i love the atla universe so much, i’m going with the obvious answer. but, if i wanted to pick something completely unrelated to her powers, i think i’d the show sex lives of college girls would be perfect for her! i think she’d get along great with the core four, especially leighton and whitney, plus i just think marie’s character just kinda fits the vibe of the show.

as for jordan, literally the first thing i thought of was encanto 😭 and at first i was like, this is such an unserious answer, but i think it’s hilarious to think about jordan’s grumpy ass being in an actual disney movie. for a more serious answer for jordan, i would actually love to see them in agents of shield. i could definitely see jordan as one of the inhumans and i also think they’d do well as an agent of shield. also i just want to see them interact with daisy, i love her so much.

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

okay, i watch a lot of edits of them on twitter so i lot of the songs i associate with marie and jordan are songs from the edits, so these might be a bit unserious 😭

for marie, the first song that comes to mind is anxiety by megan thee stallion. it was the first song that played when marie was introduced to us, so now that song is literally marie’s in my mind. like i’ll only ever think of marie now when i listen to that song.

as for jordan, the first song i think of when i think of jordan is like a boy by ciara. one of my favorite jordan edits used this song and now it’s just engrained in my mind when i think of them.

(also, bonus answer: the first song i think of when i think of limoreau is the louvre by lorde, it’s just so them to me…)

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

marie and i are both older sisters (i have two younger sisters and she has one), and while our situations are nowhere near the same, i really understand where her desire to find her sister comes from. my sisters are some of my best friends, it would completely break my heart if my sisters decided to completely cut me off the way marie did with annabeth.

as for jordan, we are both bisexual! and we’re both super competitive. i make jokes about it, but i know that if i was ever in a top ten situation, and i knew i was being robbed of my rightful ranking, i would also be bitching about it constantly. we’re both kinda sore losers too if you think about it 😭