#shamefully attractive cast

[tehshelaroxx]

I'm just gonna go ahead and tell you, although I'm going to wait and just stockpile Beetlejuice Beetlejuice goodies for myself until people have had a chance to see it, but I'm happy to say Beetlejuice Beetlejuice lived up to the hype and vibes of the first one. I know sequels can be hot dog-shit sometimes, especially in such beloved franchises, but this one was really good! 🥹

[beatricebat]

Hello!! 21 & 23 for violence 💗💗

Thank you!

21 - Levi Ackerman. He’s the part of canon that’s overhyped. I’m not a Levi hater, but … if any of us wrote a fanfic about a self insert who was twice the age of the rest of the cast, could fight better than anyone, was basically unkillable, got to have their own special team separate from the rest of the military, got to be rude to everyone with no consequences, who was secretly related to a main character, couldn’t be turned into a Titan because of superpower reasons, and got to wear cool accessories - we would be laughed out of fandom for being so cringe. Levi is Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way gone horribly right.

23 - Erehisu.

…I swear I’m not one of those titanfolk people, honestly.

I think Erehisu is a very dark, fucked up spin on the hero getting the princess. I have a whole theory I will write up properly one day about Historia’s whole deal being about the power of fiction and how messed up the truth behind a story can really be.

I think she and Eren are attracted to each other because they recognise and accept how broken each other are.

Also, shamefully: Aruani. When I first saw their scene together on the boat, I did not see it at all. Even after a rewatch, I was not convinced. I don’t think Isayama is very good at writing straight romance except by accident. Anyway, it was the fandom who explained it to me better.

[byneddiedingo]

Julianne Moore in Still Alice (Richard Glatzer and Wash Westmoreland, 2014)

Cast: Julianne Moore, Alec Baldwin, Kristen Stewart, Kate Bosworth, Hunter Parrish, Shane McRae, Stephen Kunken, Seth Gilliam. Screenplay: Richard Glatzer, Wash Westmoreland, based on a novel by Lisa Genova. Cinematography: Denis Lenoir. Production design: Tommaso Ortino. Film editing: Nicholas Chaudeurge. Music: Ilan Eshkeri.

After four previous nominations, Julianne Moore was overdue for an Oscar. I just wish she had won for a more challenging film than Still Alice, a middlebrow, middle-of-the-road movie that unfortunately suggests a slicked-up power-cast version of a Lifetime problem drama. It goes without saying that, with her luminous natural style, Moore can act the hell out of anything she's given: When she played Sarah Palin in Game Change (Jay Roach, 2012) on HBO, she even made me forget Tina Fey's great caricature of that eminently caricaturable politician, and did it without resorting to caricature. What bothers me most about Still Alice is its choice of an affluent white professional, a linguistics professor with a physician husband (Alec Baldwin) and an attractive family, to carry the burden of what the movie has to say about Alzheimer's. Why couldn't the film have been about the effect of early-onset Alzheimer's on a black or Latino family, or someone faced with meeting the bills -- a waitress or a secretary or a factory worker, perhaps? The screenplay (by directors Richard Glatzer and Wash Westmoreland, from Lisa Genova's novel) even shamefully asserts at one point that the disease is particularly difficult for "educated" people. The movie has its good points, of course. Kristen Stewart, as Alice's younger daughter, is a revelation. Those who knew Stewart only from the Twilight movies were startled by the skill and maturity of her performance. And the scene in which Alice discovers the suicide instructions left by herself before the disease had progressed is deftly handled, as the disease itself prevents Alice from remembering and following through on the instructions. The film also has some poignancy in the fact that director-screenwriter Glatzer, who was Westmoreland's husband, suffered from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, and died from the disease in 2015. But the use in Still Alice of excerpts from Tony Kushner's Angels in America suggests a dubious parallel between Alzheimer's and AIDS.

[marie-dufresne]

@poeticphoenix​

Don’t grow attached.

Was it a rule, a mantra, or something to hide behind? These days, Genesis couldn’t tell. It was habit at this point. Attachments were a liability. They weren’t a threat to his ever-growing power, but his heart, not yet entirely shut away, was still vulnerable if he let it, and the losses were ever increasing.

It never got easier.

The Crimson Guardian stood at the edge of a gambling complex steadily fading into embers. On the surface it had been a lighthearted game hall run by a couple who, in all honesty, seemed to despise each other.

It attracted the rougher, seedier type, as these establishments often did, but when young girls from neighboring villages began to go missing, the people had called on him to help, and all fingers had pointed here.

Most of the girls had scattered once he’d freed them, a couple of the more meek and terrified ones pulled along by others they’d grown close to in the underground halls of the establishment.

But one girl remained by his side, watching the blaze. She didn’t move for hours. Not while it was at its hottest (surely she was…uncomfortable to say the least?) He’d drawn a wing around her, blocking the heat from her exposed flesh.

She couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen. He couldn’t tell. Time had skewed for him over the years and she was dressed to entice. She looked older in her shamefully scant clothing but he’d heard the whispers and the accusations about the men that frequented the hall. He doubted she was old enough for anything they were doing to her.

She didn’t move when he knew she ought to have been hungry. She didn’t move when the sun rose up in the sky again and she was still there now, wild blonde curls dusted with the ash he couldn’t shield her from.

Do not. Grow. Attached.

Mortal lovers were one thing but he absolutely had no business taking in a child.

Still, there was something about the way she stared into the fire. Fearless, victorious even.

“Looks like it’s curtains for this show, little lady,” he said finally, sweeping away with a dramatic flourish of feathers and leather, “there’s nothing left to see.”

She didn’t move when he stepped away from her, eyes fixated on the destruction before her. Genesis remembered the concept of shock well enough. Maybe her freedom hadn’t sunk in yet.

“The villains have been thoroughly vanquished,” he tried, sweeping his arm out, gesturing at the grand display of what some might call arson. He called it justice.

“They both met an unpleasant end at the swing of my sword and—“ he lit up a little fireball in the palm of his hand, casting her a playful grin, “the heat of my flames. You can go home to your parents.”

She still didn’t move, but he caught how the ghost of a smile settled onto her face, staring into the debris.

“They were my parents.”

Oh. Shit.

Swallowing a sigh, Genesis looked at the girl, then to the remains of the complex. He’d seen it before, parents using their children in any number of inhumane ways. He’d see it again still. He had an endless life to live, after all. And yet…

No. No, no, absolutely not.

Do. Not. Grow.

“I’ll come with you,” she decided, finally moving her feet and standing by his side again, this time, hugging his arm, “where does a Guardian live? It must be lovely.”

Attached.

[startanewdream]

Hyacinth

Summary: Sirius takes some time to fill his godfather duties — teaching Harry how to ride a motorbike.

Part of Eyes Glistening (Jily Lives AU). It ties with Hope, but you don't need to read it first to enjoy this moment between Harry and Sirius.

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The street is quiet, a summer afternoon in which everyone must have decided it’s too hot to stay outside, but Sirius doesn’t breathe easily until he opens the small gate and then he is finally inside the Potter’s estate, safe under their love protection, though its days are almost over. He tries not to let this thought dismay him.

He walks towards the house, but he pauses, his attention diverted. Despite the heat, Harry is standing still near the broom shed, watching the sky thoughtfully, his hands inside the pocket of his jeans.

Alone and brooding, never a good sign.

He sighs, moving direction towards his godson. He has seen that quiet stubborn resolution on Harry’s face ever since he met him after Dumbledore’s funeral; it was a soldier’s face, a soldier with a duty that was hinted by Harry’s secret meetings with Dumbledore—the most secretive man Sirius had ever known—, and from all Sirius knows about Harry and James, that didn’t bid well.

He had a feeling Harry would leave. He was sure that James would hate it.

Sirius walks quietly, stopping a few steps behind Harry.

‘So, how it went?’

Harry jumps under the sound of his voice, turning around. Sirius holds back a frown; Harry shouldn’t be caught so off guard—he may be safe at the moment, but soon, in the real world, he will need better reactions and not trust anyone. This thought doesn’t comfort him.

‘What?’

‘You finally told James, didn’t you?’

Harry squints, uncomfortable. ‘Dad said anything you?’

‘No, I just needed to come by—I still have a few repairs to do in my motorbike.’

‘Oh.’ Harry’s gaze strays to the broom shed. ‘Don’t mind me.’

Sirius watches him for a few seconds before nodding. It’s still hot and he had planned to do this later, but he has a feeling that now it might be the best time—and he knows that pushing Harry to talk before he is ready never works. So he goes to take his motorbike, opting to work in the open instead of the broom shed. Harry hasn’t moved when he comes back, as Sirius imagined he wouldn’t, so Sirius just kneels to check the engine, careful to let the toolbox closer to Harry.

‘Pass me a screwdriver, will you?’ he asks Harry, not taking his gaze off the engine.

It’s been a while since he rode his motorbike, Sirius notes shamefully, so he needs to check if all the electrical parts of the motor are okay. It’s a tiresome job that he could ask a real mechanic to do, but he enjoys the manual work anyway, and Harry seems to relax some of his tension as he watches Sirius working, helping him whenever Sirius asks him—things that Sirius could do alone, but he understands that Harry likes to feel helpful.

‘I am leaving,’ Harry says quietly at some point, and Sirius takes care to not let any emotion show in his face.

‘I thought so,’ he says. All those meetings with Dumbledore seemed too much as some sort of passing the torch, though Sirius doubts that Dumbledore had planned for things to go sour so quickly. ‘When?’

‘As soon as I am of age.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

Harry is watching him, and Sirius knows he is just looking for some sort of disapproval—though he doesn’t know what Harry would do if he found it. That boy is Lily’s son too much not to be stubborn and he would go anyway. Well, Harry does like to suffer.

‘Dad is mad at me. I think… I think I’m letting him down somehow.’

And there is it, the reason why Harry was staring sadly at the sky, brooding under the sun as if it could atone for his sins somehow. He sees the apprehension in his godson’s green eyes, and Sirius is suddenly aware—though he shouldn’t be surprised—how apart from his eyes, Harry looks a lot like James.

‘You never disappoint James,’ Sirius tells him reasonably. ‘He is just too worried. You know him.’

‘I feel like… like if I leave him, he won’t ever understand. He’ll hate me for doing it.’

‘Hating you for doing the right thing? That can’t be.’

‘You didn’t see him. He said… he said if I cared, I wouldn’t leave anyone.’

‘Do you?’ Sirius asks softly. ‘Do you care?’

Harry looks at his house with a heavy sigh. ‘Too much.’

‘Then he will understand. You’ll be of age, Harry, and you’ve been making decisions—good even if questionable some times—for some time now.’

‘I just want… I want it over.’

‘That’s all we want.’ Sirius pauses for a moment. ‘Are you sure you’re the only one who can do this?’

Harry doesn’t hesitate this time. ‘It has to be me. But I won’t be alone.’

‘Ron and Hermione?’ Sirius guesses, smiling a little when Harry nods. He is a firm believer that with friends by his side, Harry can do anything. ‘Ginny?’

Harry sighs. ‘No, we—I broke up with her.’

‘What?’ Sirius asks, confused, but the desolation in Harry’s face is enough to show him all he needs to do about this news. ‘For her own good?’

Harry kicks a stone in the ground, his head lowered. ‘I couldn’t put her in danger and… being near me is a hazard. It’s enough I’m already putting you and Mum and Dad in so much trouble—’

‘You know we would still be even if you didn’t exist, right? In fact, we joined the Order about two years before you were even born, kid.’

Harry shrugs, clearly not agreeing with him. Sirius rolls his eyes; Harry enjoys saving people too much not to feel guilty for anything that happens, even when is only remotely connected to it.

‘If you wanna blame someone, blame Voldemort, not you,’ Sirius says, and he stands up to finish a few protective spells on the motorbike.

As he casts them, blue light shining from his wand, it occurs to Sirius that Harry will need a quick course on Defensive Spells. He already knows quite a few, always having a knack for them, and Sirius is familiar with how much Harry loves his Expelliarmus—he supposes that a wandless enemy doesn’t provide much danger—, but Harry will need to improve his list if he is to be safe during whatever he will be doing.

He thinks of a few books he has at home that helped him in his early years of the Auror training, and he is sure that he can ask Moony to come and help them with training.

Away from James’ eyes, that’s it. Sirius enjoys not being hexed by his best friend.

But Harry’s birthday is still a few weeks away and, right now, Sirius doesn’t want to give Harry homework.

‘Why are you fixing your motorbike?’ Harry asks.

‘I got the feeling it might be useful. The Order has been discussing how to get you safely away from here, you know.’ Harry frowns heavily, so Sirius rushes to add in a teasing voice: ‘I thought of suggesting to hide you inside the trunk and be done with it. Death Eaters would never guess.’

Harry laughs. ‘I don’t think I’d fit.’

‘No, we’d need to transform you into something. Too bad you never felt an attraction to turn into an animagus, if you were a hedgehog it would be easier.’

‘Why a hedgehog?’

‘They are cute. And your hair does make you look like one.’

‘Hey!’ Harry’s indignation is cut by the grin on his lips. He runs his hand through his hair in a gesture that reminds Sirius of James more than ever. ‘It’s my charm.’

‘Oh, I’d have my doubts, but then Lily did marry and procreate with your father, so what do I know?’ Sirius tosses a helmet to Harry. ‘Here, put it on.’

‘To hide my hair?’

‘No, silly, because you need a helmet to ride.’

‘Ride?’

There is a bewildered expression on Harry’s face. Sirius smiles, more certain than ever of his idea. ‘Yeah, I've never taught you how to ride a motorbike, have I? Lousy godfather I am.’

‘You’re not,’ Harry says at once, distracted. He puts on the helmet. ‘Why didn’t you ever teach me before?’

‘Lily deemed too unsafe—a little hypocrite if you ask me, brooms are much more dangerous’

Harry doesn’t look as if he agrees on that one—that boy was way too influenced by James about brooms—but he seems excited enough.

‘Now what?’

‘Now pay attention. If you fall, your mother is gonna kill me.’

Harry looks amused with Sirius' concern.

Sirius shows him how to operate the motorbike, telling him to be careful with the brake and the acceleration and to not mix the gear shifter with them. Then he helps Harry get on the bike.

‘By the left side,’ he guides, and Harry looks somehow younger as he sits on the motorbike. Sirius had a sudden vision of himself holding a Harry who wasn’t even two yet as they flew through the night.

Merlin, the time has flown. Near seventeen already and ready to kick Voldemort's arse.

‘Keep your feet on the ground to get used to. Good?’ Harry nods. ‘Okay, now try to feel the clutch.’ After several minutes, in which Sirius makes Harry repeat over and over how every part works, he picks his key. ‘I’ll start the engine now, okay?’

Harry acquiesces; his eyes are shining, overjoyed. Sirius makes sure the bike is into neutral, then indicates the “start” button for Harry.

‘Slowly let the clutch out—keep your feet on the ground, it will give you more support.’

Harry nods once more, concentrated, his attention focused on releasing the clutch—and then his grip slips and the motorbike yanks forward too quickly. Sirius jumps to hold them.

‘Hey, hey, it happens!’ he says. Harry looks only sheepishly, not very much concerned for his health. Of course not, Sirius thinks. The boy is ready to face Voldemort, what’s a bike? ‘You stalled the engine because you let it go too fast. Try again.’

He does; this time his hand leaves the clutch in the right timing, and the motorbike wrenches him forward. Harry lets out a laugh—one of those carefree sounds that Sirius has been hearing less and less lately—at the same time as Sirius turns into a dog to chase him.

The Potter estate is vast, an enormous field that goes into the woods, and it takes several minutes until Harry finally steps on the brake, having made a huge round back to the broom shed. Sirius is glad and relieved to realize Harry remembered to use the brake over the throttle.

Sirius is out of breath—age comes with problems, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud—when he helps Harry down the kickstand so he can get off the bike. Harry immediately crashes into the ground, laying over the grass with a relaxed expression as he takes out his helmet.

‘This was so much fun!’ he admits. ‘Can I fly next time?’

‘One step at a time, kid. When you are good on the ground, we’ll try for the skies.’

‘Spoilsport,’ Harry complains without any real malice in his voice. ‘Thanks, Sirius.’

‘No problem, kid.’ Sirius sits next to him. ‘Just wanted to share Hyacinth with you.’

He lifts his eyebrows. ‘Hyacinth? Your bike has a name?’

‘All the good rides should have one. Don’t mock Hyacinth.’

Harry shakes his head, amusement all over his face as he closes his eyes. He puts his arms around his head for support, so Sirius does his godfather duty once more. He turns into Padfoot, laying next to Harry to offer him a good fluffy pillow.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

Introductory prologue. The main pairing will be established ironstrange x reader. This story will be rated explicit, have some canon-typical violence and language. The 'fuck' harvest is bountiful this time of the year. Updates - irregular so far, I'm posting it as I go.

No y/n, no "you", no name - nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns. Please leave a comment if you spot a stray 'blushing' or the likes, I write as it flows and sometimes miss those words when I proofread. I try to be inclusive of all my readers.

"Your total is twelve dollars, seventeen cents," I rattled off on autopilot, casting a glance at the cash register and plastering an automatic smile onto my face. The pleasant expression was frozen on it, stuck like glue, despite the news I had received earlier in the day. "Thank you, have a nice day," I doubted the customer actually heard my words.

One of those business-types, wearing a tailored two-piece, with a Bluetooth headset attached to their ear and brain always a mile away, our little coffee shop a mild interruption in their daily routine of making more and more money. "Hello, how can I help you?" I addressed the next customer, my eyes unseeing, gliding over their face and to the storefront where I noticed we were running low on eclairs and carrot cake.

"Hey, Starlight," the woman's voice was familiar, tone soothing, as I snapped my eyes to meet a pair of reddish-brown ones, staring at me with concern. "The usual," our city's very own superhero; Wanda Maximoff stood before me with her head curiously tilted to the side and her brother hovering behind her, examining the assortment of various cakes on display. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I sighed, sending off the organic, single-use cups with scribbles off to Dave, our barista. Wanda's order was large, usually about ten or twelve coffees and quite a few treats, so I donned on some nitrile gloves to package the treats while Dave handled the drinks with practiced ease. I admired his stoicism. "Might be seeing a bit less of me," the woman's eyebrows rose in displeasure at my admission.

"Tony won't be happy," Wanda mumbled, side-eyeing the backdoor behind which my boss usually resided during the day. "You got fired?" The words attracted the attention of her brother. Pietro was immediately at her side, joining into the concerned staring.

"Nope," I popped the 'p', methodically shoving the food in its packaging. "The café is expanding hours and our shifts are being split now. Jeremy is dead set on me working the graveyard shift, so I'll be here six AM to two PM," I couldn't help the sigh that left my lips.

My boss, Jeremy, had opened his boulangerie little over two years ago, and as he had predicted, it set off almost immediately. The place was located almost in the heart of the dozen corporate sky-rises full of busy, wealthy people who liked their things to be both instant and luxurious. Jeremy had fit right in with the law sharks and business vultures, if you ask me, with his penchant for demanding the impossible.

I was expecting an increase in work hours, I wasn't going to lie - our little cafe was busy nearly all the time it was open - but the fact that he chose to split a day's shift came as a punch to the gut. Like most service staff, I made most of my money from the tips, and they and they only were the only reason I stayed in a place with a shrew for a boss and the worst health insurance in the area. Thankfully, the rich businessmen from local offices didn't count their money and left me more than generous tips.

The coffee machine beeped for the last time as Dave passed me the three cupholders before I carefully bagged them, arranging the treats on top. I saw Wanda lick her lips at the aromas coming from the paper bag before Pietro snatched them out of my grasp. I rattled off the total, catching Wanda's eye as she passed me several twenty dollar bills, waving off my attempt to return the change.

"Penny for your wandering thoughts?" She smiled warmly as I chuckled at the question I've grown to expect with a quiet sort of joy.

The first time she'd wandered in, soaking wet from the rain and looking as lost as a child in a mall, ten minutes before closing time, I was reading my book right at the counter as I waited for the coffee machine to clean itself. I hadn't even noticed the quiet woman until her words startled me out of the book-induced trance and I shamefully had to ask her to repeat herself, hastily shoving my book under the counter. She smiled at me, shyly, and asked me about my reading instead of rattling an order for one of the sickly sweet caffeine concoctions female customers seemed to love. And she returned in a few days, asking the same question after taking a careful look at my face.

"And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about." I took a careful moment to recall a paragraph from the book I was currently reading, Murakami's 'Kafka on the Shore'. It seemed fitting, with all that had been going on in my life recently. I was still caught in the middle of the storm, unsure if I'd make it out but hoping for it nonetheless.

"That's beautiful," Pietro smiled at me, the tips of his silver hair reflecting the lights of the cafe's baroque style chandeliers. I barely managed to smile at him as he was already speeding off, the entrance door banging shut behind a blur of white and blue. Each time he did that, I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to not spill any of the hot beverages.

"Because it's true," Wanda added with a comforting smile. I nodded in agreement, hoping some of her positive attitude would dissipate the sense of doom I'd been lugging around all day. She departed, taking the sense of comfort with her, as I caught the tail end of something shouted in Sokovian - something that sounded exactly in place, coming from one disgruntled sibling to another.

When the residents of the nearby Stark tower began frequenting my workplace, I barely had the composure to stifle my quiet fangirling to socially acceptable levels. Not long after the Scarlet Witch turned a semi-regular, she started bringing her colleagues with her - Hawkeye at first, who was a decent, normal dude; he looked like an exasperated dad and Pietro appeared every thing the rambunctious son, as the younger man peppered the older man with questions about the cakes on our display.

They all had fancy names, but at the bottom of it, a chocolate cake was a chocolate cake. That much I told them, with a snort, earning myself a lopsided grin and a generous tip as I patiently listed off the more commonly used, simplified designations for the twins as the knowledge of them being European immigrants crossed my mind.

After Hawkeye came the Black Widow, and then Captain America with a sunny smile and his moody boyfriend in tow. While Bucky Barnes' expression was generally sour, the man had a wicked sweet tooth, shoveling frosted, glazed treats at the rate of a competitive eater. Both men were extremely polite if not very chatty and tipped well.

Tony Stark himself - well, he was a special one. His sense of humour trailed on the fine line of obscene, oftentimes raising the eyebrows of nearby people standing in line. I wasn't born yesterday, either: years of customer service work left me with little-to-no surprise regarding overzealous men and I could quip back equally as sharply, just slightly south of Tony's own jokes. He never overstepped, however, and with time, I developed a quiet appreciation for our small talks.

Which did brighten up my day, if only a little. "A little birdy told me your boss is being a douchebag. Want me to clean up that muck?" Tony was, as usual, wearing a bespoke suit and sunglasses, which he'd pushed up to his forehead as he frivolously leaned on the counter after placing his order.

I sighed, remembering Wanda's words. I didn't know what to expect from the eccentric billionaire; last of all, I didn't want any handouts. I'd started a search for a second part-time job the very day I got told my pay would be essentially cut in half. "No need, Mr. Stark, I'm gonna be fine and dandy," I replied with a smile that I was sure didn't really reach my eyes. "We'll still be able to resume our nice chit-chat at brunch on Saturdays," I winked, hoping to keep up the usual light atmosphere of our banter.

"I told you to call me Tony!" He exclaimed, like always, shaking his head and glaring at the back door. "Yeah, no," the man had absolutely no chill. "I'll still sic the IRS on him," the last part was said quietly. Mr. Stark often spoke to himself.

I laughed at the rich-kid, spoilt way he was acting. A grown man with an attitude of a teenager and a sweet tooth to match one - except for his coffee. That was always the strongest, blackest one we had on hand. I hadn't even heard of a triple espresso until Mr. Stark had waltzed in, skipping the line and filling the air around him with the smells of cologne that smelled like money, motor oil, iron and soot.

The moment I opened my e-mail at home, I felt my gloomy mood worsen, Mr. Stark's words echoing in my head. I'd sent my resumes to two dozen places and only a handful even bothered to reply - all preemptive rejections, there weren't businesses needing a part-time employee with a useless degree, who could only work evenings. Except bars, but they required some sort of certificate for bartenders and lots and lots of bare skin for waitresses. I tried to steer away from that part of the industry as much as I could, saving it as a last resort option.

It had come down to browsing Craigslist as I ate my way through a carton of cheap take-out, too exhausted to cook and too anxious to go out to the nearby bodega after 9 PM. One more negative side of working late shift - making my way home in the dead of the night in NYC and hoping Spider-Man was hanging out nearby should a thug decide on me to be their next victim. The joys of big city life.

As the column of various ads stared at me with various suspicious offers to make quick money, ads for 'young, sociable women' and I stared back at them in muted disgust. The 'looking for a job' section was much more sensible with the few ads I'd clicked on out of curiosity depicting people seemingly in a similar situation as me - short on money but not desperate enough to surrender their dignity to corporate greed. The decision was momentary - I'd started typing and hit the post button before I was through with my food, slapping my old laptop shut as soon as the as posted.

Hopefully, the creeps will stay away. The next couple of days stretched out slowly as I got up at the crack of dawn to open the shop, served the early birds whilst sipping my own matcha latte and clocked out not a second later than 2PM, taking home half the usual amount of tips. My e-mail remained as silent as ever, only a few suspicious replies to my ad, texts that I didn't even bother replying to. Human trafficking and pyramid schemes, was that all that NYC had to offer?

Apparently, not. Around 6PM, my phone dinged as a notification popped up and I scrambled to read it - all too aware of the upcoming rent day, and was pleasantly surprised with the contents of the e-mail, re-reading it several times to make sure there weren't any hidden stones under the water. I replied with my phone number, not expecting it to ring within minutes of hitting the send button.

"Hello?"

"Hi, we just corresponded," the voice on the other side was feminine but slightly rough, as if it's owner spent days chain-smoking. "I would like to invite you for a small interview, if you wouldn't mind."

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Could I ask you some questions first?" The levels of anxiety, I thought, were reasonable in the situation. It mutely gnawed at my chest.

"Sure," the woman agreed amicably. "My name is Odette, by the way," she mentioned off-handedly, the name fitting her voice in a strange way.

"Uh, well," I stammered. "You mentioned it's a herbal medicine shop, you're not selling weed under the counter, are you?" I voiced my worries meekly, hoping for an honest answer.

The woman laughed, a sharp, terse sound. "No, dear, I do not sell or possess anything illegal. I merely offer supplies for the locals that prefer natural, alternative medicine." She sounded jovial.

"Like - um, healing crystals?" I vaguely remembered reading about them on the internet, or seeing them in a YouTube video, perhaps.

"Yes, we sell those, too," her tone grew more joyful at the mention of the shiny rocks. I didn't think that they actually cured anything, to be honest, however I was willing to give it some credit - the placebo effect was a scientific fact. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

"Okay then," I chuckled nervously. "I'm free tomorrow after 3 PM."

"Grand. The shop is open until 10 PM, just say your name at the counter and I'll be right with you."

As soon as I hung up, relief and curiosity and trepidation blossomed within me, imagination unhelpfully supplying images of human trafficking documentaries, basements with chains and other, less horrifying but still unusual things. The pep talk over a wine glass that I had was necessary: it was a herbal shop, for fuck's sake. Worst case, I'm going to work with Karens who think the Earth is flat and quartz cures cancer. I could even get a funny story or two out of those, something to share with Bucky or Wanda in lieu of the usual book quotes I entertain them with.

The day went by smoothly, the café no more and no less busy than usual so after a brief detour back home to put on something that didn't smell like coffee grounds and yeast: comfortable pants and a soft sweater, something that would keep me warm but would not unnecessarily restrict any movement. My good luck charm, a large oval necklace with a shiny gold star in the middle, hung heavily around my neck, providing quiet comfort.

Heart thudding in my chest, I approached the old-style, inconspicuous building, double-checking the address before opening the old, heavy wooden door right at the corner of the building. It was like a movie scene, in a way - the day was overcast, meager sun rays shining through the lead curtain of clouds, the streets were clear and few honks rung out in the far end of block, sending a flock of pigeons into a lazy scatter over the slanted roof. The door creaked softly, the handle cold under my touch, instantly filling my nose with a strong smell of herbs so plentiful, I could not distinguish one from another.

Inside didn't look any less intriguing: the décor was outdated but somehow fitting and homely, high wooden shelves stocked with glass jars and wooden boxes with neatly placed labels on them. The counter was empty - save for a large, golden bell, which I timidly pressed.

The woman who emerged from behind the worn cotton curtains behind the counter most certainly was impressive. Tall and broad, with dark eyebrows and even darker eyes, she critically surveyed me for a moment, making me shiver under her gaze - and then she smiled, revealing rows of pearly white teeth and instantaneously losing the imposing aura around her.

"Um, hi- I'm-" I didn't get to finish my nervous stammering.

She interrupted me with a careless wave of her hand. "Here for the interview. Yes. Welcome, Star," her eyes briefly fell on my necklace while I struggled to swallow the unease.

I hadn't told her my nickname - to be honest, these days, I heard it more often than my given name. People quickly took notice of my love of star-patterned items and teased me relentlessly over it, losing heat only when I calmly went along with it, too used to hearing the same jokes since my early childhood.

Odette motioned me over, parting the curtains to reveal a tiny, but tastefully decorated hall with two doors on each side and a staircase at the far end of it. I followed her into the room on the left, which turned out to be a peculiar sort of office. I thought I noticed an Ouija board in there but wisely kept my mouth shut.

"I live on the floor above the shop so don't go throwing any parties while you're on the job," she remarked playfully, gesturing to a pot of tea. "It's peppermint, does wonders for calming one's demeanor," the gesture was sweet - and very telling.

I wondered if I looked as spooked as I felt. After all, it didn't seem like Odette and her business were fishy in any way, and the décor and atmosphere were quite... Appealing, in a way. Something magical, something belonging in Europe or on a high schooler's Pinterest board. I sipped my tea in-between questions, thinking how maybe, I could actually grow accustomed to this place.

The shopkeeper acted as if I'd already accepted the job and I - well, it's not like I had any other options waiting for me. The pay was more than I expected it to be, for such a small bodega and a part-time shift, and it would help me cover my bills with enough to spare. The customers were said to be mostly regular and undemanding, with a few rare exceptions, and should I need assistance, the owner was always a call and a floor away.

With a considerably lighter heart, I left to pad the damp sidewalk back towards my house. Thankfully, my new workplace was only a short walk away.

The tag list is open until the story is finished. Please use the 'taglist' Google form to request (top of the fic, clickable link).

@mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Of My Barest Thoughts

Summary: After giving birth to your daughter, the changes your body experienced throughout and after pregnancy has placed a negative impact on your mind. Your husband Arthur, however, has a different perspective.

Warnings: Postpartum body dysmorphia

Word Count: 1253

A/N: I’ve heard it’s common for women (and others who have given birth) to experience body dysmorphia postpartum. I’ve never been pregnant so this isn’t a personal experience, however this was an idea I came up with after coming across a body positivity graphic for new moms.

The mirror hadn’t been your friend lately.

You didn’t recognize the woman standing in front of you. What once was an image you could describe as beautiful has turned into the opposite. What used to be self-love had morphed slowly from disdain to disgust. You couldn’t believe how much had changed.

You eyed your nude reflection slowly, scanning every fine feature. The cellulite trapped within your thighs. The patches of discoloration peppering your midsection, highlighted by the band of stretchmarks and loose, wrinkled skin surrounding your navel. The rolls hugging your waistline. Your once perky breasts now engorged with milk, your nipples swollen from your little one’s suckling.

Pregnancy had certainly taken more than its fair share on your body.

You ran your hands along your stomach, the faint reminder of excitement of wanting to meet your baby just a mere flicker of dying light in the back of your mind. Regretting the decision to have a child was never a second thought, though the aftereffects were something left to be desired.

How could this happen?

Turning to view your side, seeing how much your belly poked out. Your midsection took the brunt, your muscles still regaining strength after a month since giving birth. It almost seemed as if you were a shell of your former self, knowing you’d never return to that former state, and you hated it.

The bedroom door creaked open, and you spotted the reflection of your husband walking in. “Jus’ changed her diaper and put ‘er down for a nap,” he spoke without looking directly at you. As he closed the door, his eyes met yours in the mirror. “Whatchoo doin’?” he asked, stepping up behind you.

Ever such a large and handsome man, Arthur was always taller and broader than you. More than once he described how much he loved your body, worshipping it in every physical, emotional and intimate manner. Being new parents meant true affection for one another was far and few in between. His attitude toward you never changed despite the fatigue, although often wondered if it was forced, perhaps his physical attraction for you was dying.

“Just…looking at myself.” You mumbled to him, trying to keep your voice neutral.

Arthur however was not fooled. He caught your furrowed brow and slight frown tugging the corners of your mouth. Placing his warm hands on your waist, he replied, “Admirin’ how beautiful you are?”

“But I’m not beautiful,” you sighed heavily. “I look disgusting.”

“What makes you think that?” he asked, his frown matching yours.

“You see what I see, don’t you?” you huffed, gesturing toward the mirror. “I didn’t look like this before I got pregnant.”

Arthur’s eyes slowly raked the entirety of your figure, viewing every inch of your naked skin. You searched for a look of disgust on his face. He instead wrapped his arms around you in a loose embrace. “I see my gorgeous wife, nothin’ else.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “C’mon Arthur, don’t do that. I know you can see a difference.”

“The only difference I see is a strong woman who became a mother,” he responded softly, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“But my body changed so much,” you muttered sorrowfully. “I hate it.”

“That really botherin’ you that much?” he asked, meeting your gaze once again.

“Of course it is, I looked so different before the pregnancy, hell I looked better!” you complained. “But I gained weight, I have loose skin and ugly stretchmarks. I must look ugly to you too.”

The look Arthur gave was genuine shock and confusion. He straightened up and moved one of his arms from your waist, sliding his hand to caress your jaw. He turned your head to look at him directly. “Why would I ever think that?”

Pulling your head away, your eyes cast downward shamefully. “Because I know how much you loved my body before… I don’t think you’d like it now, not like this,” Your breath shuddered as your eyes began to sting with the threat of tears. “I feel so unattractive to you now.”

He released a small exhale and murmured to you, “Y/N, look at me.”

You were hesitant, almost afraid to see his reaction. Blinking the beginnings of tears from your eyes, you slowly turned your focus back to him. His eyes were soft and loving, just as they always were.

“I love you,” he spoke plainly, placing his hand against your cheek. “I don’t care how your body looks.”

“But –”

“Let me finish,” he gently interrupted. With slight pressure, he turned your head back to the mirror. “I know how much a woman can change while she’s pregnant. That’s somethin’ I could never do, nor ever completely understand,” his voice was low and peaceful. The hand still wrapped around your torso moved to rest upon your abdomen. “You carryin’ our child. Every day I watched her grow bigger inside you, and you couldn’t have looked more beautiful like that.”

His words allowed a ghost of a smile to touch your lips, except it wasn’t enough to banish the self-deprecating thoughts. “Doesn’t change the fact that after all of that, I look like shit.” You murmured to yourself.

“You don’t,” his voice hardened slightly. Fingers trailing along your stretchmarks, following along the fine ridges as if tracing patterns. “I see it as a reminder of how strong you are,” His calloused palm tickled your soft flesh as he journeyed upward, briefly cupping your breast. “How much you changed to care for our little one,” back down he ventured, exploring your curves like a well-read map. His fingertips dragged along your thigh. “Nine months of nurturin’ a new life, nothin’ short of amazin’.”

His touch soothed you, beginning to calm your hammering heart and woeful mind. You hardly noticed you were leaning completely against him, allowing his warmth to encompass you. “Arthur…” you sighed quietly.

He gave you a warm smile in the mirror, releasing your face to push your damp hair aside to bare your neck. He pressed his lips against your shoulder, placing a trail of kisses along the junction. His path halted at the shell of your ear, his breath giving a slight tickle. “I still think you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met. Ain’t nothin’ gonna change that for me, sweetheart.” He whispered.

Heat licked at your cheeks and a small smile of your own finally graced your face, bashfully averting your eyes as if you were a young girl again. His arms encircled you once more, pulling you completely into his loving embrace. He began to rock you with a slow rhythm, and kissed your cheek.

“I love you,” he repeated. “Every part of you.”

Tilting your head to look at him directly, noting the adoration on his face. You smiled at him and responded, “I love you too Arthur, so so much.”

He smiled even wider at you, leaning in further to lay a sweet kiss onto your lips. “I hope that was ‘nough for you.”

“More than enough from you,” you quietly giggled. “But reminders are nice too.”

“Guess I owe ya that much, after you’ve been tellin’ me for years to respect myself,” Arthur replied, tucking stray locks behind your ear. “Gotta return the favor. Can’t have my lady feelin’ bad about herself now.”

You hummed in response, turning around in his arms to face him completely. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you stood on your toes to kiss him once again.

[leechobsessed]

Last Night

Ella reflects on what (and who) she did last night.

characters: Ella Sagen, Lachlan Lonan, Leila Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens) pairing: Ella Sagen x Lachlan Lonan / Logen words: ~2k warnings: mentions of alcohol, implied sexual activities

etre bleu series, previous chapter

There are three things Ella immediately notices when she wakes up.

One, she is hungover. Not hungover, but she can tell she had one too many drinks the night before from the throbbing in her temples and the sandpaper feel of her mouth.

Two, this is… not her bed. As she blinks the sleep from her eyes, she recognizes the soft and luxurious material of the sheets as those custom of the palace bedrooms. But these are not her sheets, and this is not her room.

Three, she is not alone.

From behind her, she can hear the soft breathing of the other person, feel their fingertips brushing against the bare skin of her back. The contact of their skin against hers brings a flood of memories from the night before; dancing, flirting, kissing, other things, all with—

Lachlan.

Ella’s eyes fly fully open as her mind races through the events that transpired the night before, trying to figure out how, why, she would allow herself to get drunk and fall into bed with someone she just met, let alone her best friend's brother.

Groaning internally, she pulls herself out of bed as carefully as she can and begins to silently collect her clothing from the trail that leads to the bed from the door. 

The curtains are open slightly, letting in just enough light for her to search for her belongings that have been scattered about the room. Next to the bed she finds her underwear, her dress thrown over a chair a few paces away, her shoes leaning against each other next to the door. The pieces of Lachlan’s costume follow a similar pattern, highlighting the short path they took to fall into bed. 

She quickly pulls her underwear on, grabbing his thin white shirt from the floor and pulling it over her naked body, not wanting to wrestle herself back into her dress and risk the noise waking him up.

After collecting any remaining dignity she can find on her way to the door, she allows herself a moment to glance back at Lachlan, who is still sleeping peacefully, his body turned toward her, his hand stretched toward the side of the bed she had just vacated. 

The sight of him makes her breath catch the same way it did the night before. His light brown hair is tousled just so, his eyebrows are pulled together fractionally, his lips parted ever so slightly. The sheet is draped over his hips, leaving his strong arms and shoulders exposed. 

He is, without a doubt, the most attractive man she’s ever seen. 

Blushing furiously, she hurries out of the room before he can wake up and catch her starting. 

She pulls the door shut gently behind her, exhaling fully once in the hall. Ella peers both ways down the hallway before setting off toward her room, her pace just shy of a run, hoping to avoid seeing anyone on her way. Much to her relief, this wing of the palace is empty this early in the morning, and she makes it to her room without being spotted. 

Once safely inside, she throws the clothing in her arms onto the floor before flopping gracelessly onto her bed, covering her face with both hands. 

“Gods, what was I thinking?” She groans, fisting her hands in her mess of chestnut waves, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

If she was being honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she had been thinking much at all last night. She was usually cautious and careful, normally one to feel things out before rushing into anything, but from the moment their eyes met there was this… pull. A spark, an undeniable attraction. 

Until last night, she thought it was something that only happened in romance novels. 

But there she was, completely transfixed by a man she had just met, blushing like a teenager every time he looked at her, intentionally flirting back, melting into his touch, into his arms, into his kiss. 

And then there she was, falling shamelessly into bed with him, and shamefully sneaking out the next morning. 

Ella pulls her hands from her hair and sits upright, her cheeks burning. She jumps off the bed and stomps over to the vanity to start to wash the previous night off of her, to try to regain some semblance of composure. 

She leans on her hands, staring at her reflection in the mirror; her hair is more wild than usual, her lips slightly chapped, her cheeks flushed pink beneath her freckles. 

She was sure Lachlan would understand why she left him this morning. They both had quite a bit to drink at the party, they had just met, and it didn’t mean anything. And, to state the obvious once more, he was Leila’s brother, and she was her best friend. 

She quickly conjures water into the small bowl in front of her, making it as cold as she can stand and splashes it onto her face, praying the chill will quell the blush that seems to be permanently plastered across her cheekbones. 

She watches the water drip off her nose and chin and back into the bowl, trying to push the thoughts of Lachlan from her mind. Every time she finds her thoughts drifting back to him — to his eyes, to his hands, his arms, his chest, his lips, his fingers — she splashes herself with more water, which does nothing to cast him from her mind, only succeeding in leaving her shirt soaked. 

“Gods, pull yourself together,” she mumbles, reaching for a towel just as someone knocks lightly at her door. 

Embarrassed at the fact her first hope is that it’s Lachlan on the other side of the door, she sets the towel down and frantically searches the wardrobe for something to quickly slip on to cover up the fact she’s still practically naked. 

“One moment,” she calls as a second knock comes, slipping on a long robe as she hurries to pull open the door. “Oh, Leila.”

“Oh, Ella,” Leila teases, leaning against the doorframe, her gray eyes alight with mischief. “You seem disappointed. Were you expecting someone else?”

Ella clears her throat, wrapping her robe around her more tightly, leaving her arms crossed over her chest. “Did you need something?”

“Well, I didn’t get a chance to see you last night, but I figured if I found you here this morning, I would have to believe you made it to the masquerade.”

“The word of your fiancé wasn’t enough?”

Leila waves her off. “Not the point.”

Ella raises an eyebrow. “You’re very chipper for someone who isn’t a morning person”

“And you’re rather dour for someone who is.” Leila retorts, smirking. 

“I, um, I may be a touch hungover,” Ella offers quickly, tucking her hair back behind her ear. 

“I figured that may be the case. Luckily for you, I have something to help with that lined up at breakfast.”

“Breakfast? Right now?”

“Soon. Nadia has asked breakfast to be brought out to her private veranda, and requested we all join her there. I can wait and walk down with you if you’d like?”

Ella shakes her head. “No, I know the way. I need to freshen up a bit first.”

“Yes, attending breakfast at the palace wearing only a linen shirt wouldn’t quite fit the standards set forth by the countess,” Leila says, still smirking. She stands on her tiptoes, trying to peer over Ella’s frame and into the room behind her before dropping back onto the flats of her feet. She leans forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Is he still in there?” 

“Who?” Ella asks, glancing behind her, her brows pulled together in confusion.

“The man whose shirt you’re wearing.”

Ella blushes, pushing Leila out of the doorway and pulling the door closed. “I’ll see you down there,” she says, retreating back into the room, leaving Leila laughing in the hallway. 

She could only assume the breakfast invitation was extended to both the Lonan brothers as well, and the thought of seeing Lachlan again so soon sets her cheeks and ears burning. 

Ella sits back down at the vanity, quickly grabbing a brush to try to tame her hair. As she yanks the brush through the curls, she hears something metal hit the floor. Confused, she glances at the brush before turning to look at the floor, frowning at the gold and emerald hairpin lying beneath her. 

She combs her fingers through her hair, looking for the rest that she had started the night with, humming when she doesn’t find any more. Accepting they were probably lost while she danced or when she removed her mask, she finishes brushing her hair, making a mental note to apologize to the countess for losing them. Once her hair has been dealt with, she heads to the wardrobe to find something more suitable than just a shirt to wear to breakfast. 

Lips pursed and hands on her hips, she surveys the clothing hanging in the wardrobe. Like every piece of clothing ever gifted to her by the countess, all of the dresses are beautiful and expensive, flattering to her figure, but not exactly her style. 

She pulls at the skirt of one of the dresses, absentmindedly wondering if Lachlan would like the blue or the purple, or if he’d prefer the neckline of this one over that one. 

As she catches onto her train of thought she freezes, reminding herself again that he was drunk last night, and he could care less what she chose to wear in the light of day. 

Letting out a frustrated huff of air, she pulls one of the more simple dresses from the hanger, a deep maroon dress, adorned with small gold details around the neck, waist, and ends of the long sleeves. She slips quickly out of Lachlan’s shirt and into the dress, sighing again as she examines herself in the mirror. 

She tucks a strand of hair back behind her ears, frowning at her reflection. He had called her beautiful, more than once, and she was sure the volume of alcohol he had consumed made that seem like a fact to him. Either that or he was trying to charm her into bed. 

Either way, it worked, she thinks, groaning. 

But the way he looked at her… the way he touched her… that couldn’t have all been the alcohol's doing. 

And... she hoped it wasn’t. 

She exhales, fiddling with her ring. There was just something about him; his charisma, this magnetism, a genuineness that she found irresistible. She wanted to find any excuse she could to spend more time with him, to get to know more about him, everything about him. And she wanted him to know that she found him desirable in more ways than just sexually. 

Although the sex was… phenomenal. 

Blushing, she pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. 

All she can hope is that he feels the same. 

And that Leila won’t kill her. 

Taking a deep breath, she opens her eyes and gives herself one last once over in the mirror. She smooths the front of the dress as she stands up and exits her room, trying to suppress the nerves and excitement building in her stomach at the thought of seeing Lachlan again. 

[ijustwant2write]

Far Away-Finn Shelby x Reader

Requested by anonymous: 'Hii i love your imagines and i wanted to request one in which the reader is has a crush on finn but she feels useless because she is a foreigner from spain and doesn't have any talent or family so she kind of runs away and tommy comforts her♡'

Characters: Finn Shelby x Reader, Thomas Shelby x Reader (platonic), Arthur Shelby x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Racism, self doubt, swearing ,fluff

(A/N: I am White British, so I'm sorry if it isn't as detailed as you wanted it to be. I didn't want to write the wrong thing and/or offend anyone, but I hope it's still what you want)

Tags: @jenepleurepasbaby @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"You're late (Y/N)." Mrs Laine tutted as I ran up to the stall, seeing that it was somewhat already set up.

I failed to catch me breath."I'm so sorry Mrs Laine! My mother-"

"I don't want to hear any excuses. Make sure the stall is in place, you know my back doesn't do so well under any weight."

I nodded, doing as she said straight away. Once I thought the stall was sturdy, I helped her arrange the flowers, noticing how my hands were shaking from the cold. The gloves I had on weren't thick enough, and my clothes were worn down. My parents would talk about the heat of Spain, how much colour there was everywhere; Birmingham seemed to be the exact opposite. As foreigners, my parents had found it hard to get jobs, even though England was supposed to promise them good employment. We were on the bare minimum, only just getting by, and my job on the florist stand didn't help much. But Mrs Laine was the only one who would take me on, and although she showed sympathy, she could be a scary woman.

"Heads up, your Peaky boy is headed this way." she said, turning back to the flowers.

Whipping around, I made sure my hair was neat, wrapping the coat together around me to hide the plain dress I had on. My hands weren't only shaking from the weather now.

"Fuck (Y/N), you look freezing." Finn exclaimed as he approached me.

"N-no, I'm fine, just a bit chilly." I replied, hiding my shivering.

"Thought I told you to get yourself a new coat last week?"

Although I was always extremely reluctant to take it from him, Finn always gave me a wad of cash, to help me and my family. I didn't know if his brothers were aware of this, and I was scared of what they would think. I didn't want to use Finn, I had no interest in his money, but after he insisted, and once that first bill was paid, I knew I couldn't refuse, for the sake of my family.

I cast my eyes down."Uh, we...we were behind on some payments."

He gave me a sympathetic smile, though it wasn't pitying me."Right," he dug into his pocket, taking out another roll of cash and putting it in my hand,"that's for your family again. And when you get off your lunch break, I'm taking you shopping."

"Finn, I can't let you do that."

"You've got no choice." he smirked, leaning in closer."By order of the Peaky fukcin' Blinders."

I felt stupid as I giggled. Finn just smiled, keeping eye contact with me as he left until he fully turned around, glancing over his shoulder one last time. Mrs Laine disrupted the flutters in my stomach.

"Be careful girl. He is a Shelby after all."

"Well, he's not bad to me."

"No, but he's done bad things."

I rolled my eyes as she turned away from me. If I had a pound for everytime someone said that to me, I would be the one giving Finn money.

Mrs Laine had almost fired me on the spot when Finn had shown up once. We had met before I got the job, I had only been in Small Heath for a week, having moved here from the rough housing we were in before. Finn was by himself, spotting me struggle to find my way to the market. No one would even look at me as I politely asked for help. People were horrible, judging who I was based on my looks. That's all we got as I grew up, and my parents reminiscing about beautiful Spain and the people didn't help. Why couldn't we have just stayed? Why did I have to be born in miserable England?

Finn wasn't afraid to come up to me, the cheeky grin appearing as he escorted me to the market, staying by my side and helping me barter with the sellers. I didn't miss the blatant flirting, and shamefully I flirted back. If my mother had seen me, I wouldn't be allowed out of the house for a week! We had seen each other a few times after that, but once I got my job, he would always walk to the betting shop through the market to see me.

"Am I alright to go for my break Mrs Laine?" I asked, smiling sweetly at her.

She stared at me for a few seconds, loudly sighing before waving her hand at me."Go on then. But (Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Don't be getting pregnant anytime soon. Got a lot of customers that come here just to see you."

"To see me?"

"Well, do you see any other Spanish beauties around here? It's not just the flowers that are exotic."

"Oh..."

"Well what did you think I was going to say?"

"I don't know...something about me being charming, or just plain friendly."

"I don't mean no harm by it (Y/N). But surely you knew? Plus, Small Heath is a harsh place, might as well have the harsh truth, eh? Especially by someone you know and trust, and not someone off the street."

I was too shocked to retaliate, upset by her true thoughts about me. I thought she had taken a liking to me, even if it was out of pity, and wanted to do an act of good deed. But she was using me, attracting more customers and making me sweet talk them into buying fucking flowers.

"(Y/N), you ready to go?" Finn called as he walked towards me, though I was already rushing to him.

"Yeah."

"Woah, what's wrong?" he asked, stopping me in my tracks.

"Nothing, just some rude customers today."

Finn led me to his car, a brand new one he had just got, now that he was proving himself to his brothers in the betting shop (amongst the Peaky business). I said nothing, only nodding along to what Finn was saying, still focused on Mrs Laine's words as we climbed into the car.

"Hey," Finn snapped me out of my thoughts,"you sure you're alright?"

I hastily nodded my head."Yeah, you know what people are like. Some comments were particularly harsh today."

"Do you know who those people were? Do they need straightening out?"

"No! No, it's fine. I can deal with it."

His hand reached over to mine, squeezing if gently."I'm here if you need me, for anything."

I glanced down at his hand holding mine, those damn butterflies going crazy in my stomach. I felt like an idiot just nodding my head, almost whining when he removed his hand to start driving. The car ride had small talk here and there, but I couldn't help watch the people we passed. All those girls in their pretty dresses, the expensive fabric against their porcelain skin; blonde or brown hair in neat curls, bouncing on their rosy cheeks. And everytime I spotted girls like that, there was always a man or a group of them gawking, as if they were the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. If I were to walk down those streets, it would be an entirely different story; racist remarks, or slimy, low life men who wanted a piece of everything.

The people's clothes looked expensive, some carrying around multiple bags from various shops, the streets were cleaner, the buildings were bigger, and there were more cars. We were definitely out of Small Heath and in the rich part of town. Suddenly I began to feel nervous, knowing I would stand out in the crowd more than usual.

"You'll be fine (Y/N), I promise. If anyone stares at you for two long, they'll be dealing with me." Finn reasurred me as he found a place to park.

"I don't know Finn, there's a lot of...I just wished I had something nice to wear."

"That's why we're here. Come on, I'll even let you hold my hand the whole time."

As soon as we were out of the car, I gripped onto his hand, not missing the quiet chuckle from Finn. He guided us to the main square of shops, and I was in awe. The windows displayed delicate jewellery, the lights making them shine even brighter, and the clothing was elegantly sprawled on mannequins. I had never been to a place like this, and I had never even dreamt that I would.

Finn dragged me into mutliple shops, suggesting things that I would like and getting the shop assistants to help. For a while, I started to enjoy myself, shocked by how many things I looked good in. Finn was grinning the whole time, complimenting me every time I came out in a new dress. However, I didn't miss the looks I got from the women inside the shop, looking me up and down, not wanting me near any of the clothes or accessories.

As Finn spoke with a shop assistant about the sort of coat I was after, I idly walked around, admiring everything. I went to pick up a pair of red gloves, when someone else snatched them away. Looking up, a girl my age had them grasped in her hands, glaring at me. My eyebrows furrowed, confused at her behaviour.

"Excuse me," a worker said behind me,"we don't let shoppers touch the items."

"But that woman just took those gloves." I gestured to the woman who was now on the other side of the shop.

"I'm just informing you."

"Will you inform her?"

"Miss, please do not shout at me."

"I didn't. My voice is at the same level as yours."

"Is she harassing you?" the glove thief intervened, clearly still holding onto them.

"I'm not doing anything wrong." I tried to keep my voice down, I didn't want to give them an excuse to kick me out.

"She would have stolen those gloves if I hadn't got there in time!"

I glanced over to Finn, seeing that he was looking through the coats, not noticing the conflict going on. I could have screamed at those women, accusing them for discrimination against me, but I knew that would paint an even worse picture. Instead, I stormed out of the shop, running as soon as I got outside. I was crying as I ran, making it hard for me to breathe, but I kept going. However, a poor woman like me running through a wealthy neighbourhood was suspicious, and I soon had a policeman coming after me.

"Stop! What have you stolen?!" he shouted at me.

Why did these people think I was a criminal?! I had never done a bad thing in my life! Part of me thought to stop and explain myself, but I knew what would happen; he wouldn't believe me, and I would be taken away kicking and screaming. My legs were burning, lungs trying to gather every last bit of breath, until I crashed into someone, toppling onto the ground with them. I tried to scramble to my feet, but we were tangled, weighing each other down.

"Sorry gentlemen," the policeman said, hauling me onto my feet,"I'll get this scruff out of your way."

"Oi, I didn't ask you to do that."

I recognised the voice. As I came to my senses, I looked at the owner of the voice.

Thomas. Fucking. Shelby.

"You what?"

"She's with me." he blandly said, his brother Arthur looking confused beside him.

"She was running away-"

"Do you know who I am?"

The policeman huffed, shoving me towards Thomas. I stumbled, managing to not fall onto the leader of the Peaky Blinders. We watched as the policeman left, and now I didn't know what to do.

"Th-thank you Mr Shelby. Why did you do that?" my voice was quiet, as I was terrified of this man.

"Yeah Tom, why did you do that?" Arthur said pointedly.

"You're the girl I've seen Finn hanging round." Thomas said.

"Yes."

"I'm assuming he's the one that brought you here?"

"Yes."

"Can you say something other than the word yes?"

"Yes. I mean, sorry, yes, I can."

"Why were you running? And where is my little brother?"

"He's in one of the shops I ran out of. There were just these...these horrible women in there." I hung my head, now getting embarrassed.

"Let me guess, they were being racist towards ya'?" Arthur blatantly.

Thomas sighed at his brother."My brother was wrong for bringing you here. Not because you shouldn't be here, but he should have just fucking surprised you with some clothes. For some reason he loves to show off nowadays."

I didn't say anything back.

"And I know he's been giving you money."

My head snapped up, eyes wide."I swear I didn't ask for it! He always insists, and even when I don't take it, he sends it straight to my house-"

Thomas held up a hand, looking done with the conversation."I'm not angry about the money. It's been coming out of his own wages."

"He's been giving his money to me?"

"My little brother has fucked whores, used girls, he used to be obsessed with screwing around. But for some reason, you're different to him. Has he even kissed you yet?"

I shook my head.

"Then I'm glad he's spending money on the right person."

God, did this man ever smile?

"Thank you Mr Shelby."

"(Y/N)!" Finn's voice yelled out before he rounded a corner, spotting us. He looked relived when he spotted us, continuing to run.

"Finn, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Thomas said, lighting a cigarette.

"Why did you run off?" Finn ignored him, directing his focus to me.

"The women, they were being awful to me. Accusing me of things I hadn't done." I explained.

"Oi!" Thomas grabbed Finn's face, making him look away from me, and at him."You, sort this out and leave. Don't cause her any further embarrassment, alright?"

He let go of Finn, nodding to me before walking away. Arthur pinched his cheeks in his hands, slapping them before following Thomas. Finn shoved him away, but instantly putting his attention back on me.

"You should have told me, I would have sorted it."

"I couldn't. They were ganging up on me, they were driving me out of the shop. I didn't want to embarrass you, you've got such a big name. And they were all probably thinking you had gone crazy for bringing me here in the first place."

"I don't give a fuck what they think. If I had noticed sooner, I would have threatened to fucking cut them."

"Oh, because that would have made the situation better."

"You know what I mean. I just can't stand when people are like that towards you. It doesn't make sense to me."

"I'm different Finn, I'm totally different from everyone around me. I look different, my accent is different, my parents struggle to speak the language...and nobody wants to accept that."

"I do. You're just (Y/N) to me. One of the most stunning, interesting and caring person I have ever met. You've never wanted to use me, when I give you money, there is genuine resilience in your eyes, but I know you take it to help your family instead of yourself. That's why I thought today would be nice. I could finally treat you to some nice things. Make you look even more beautiful."

"For fucks sake Finn, you're going to make me cry again."

"Those clothes you wanted are still in all the shops. Think it's time I paid for them."

"Thank you Finn." I leaned up, kissing his cheek, enjoying watching the blush on his cheeks.

I grabbed Finn's hand, rubbing my eyes before smiling at him. We started walking back towards the shops, and I felt more confident, though not because Finn was beside me; but because someone understood me. Even his brothers were nice to me, and that was the first time I met them. I didn't need a man to make me empowered or keep me safe, but the puppy love that was blossoming into something more serious gave me confidence, to really show others that I was worth something. They were all wrong about me, and I wasn't going to be quiet about it anymore.

[adonis-koo]

tease

| Prologue |

↳ Summary: You came with the intentions of your best friend landing a job as a stripper. You never meant to catch the eyes of the king stripper of the establishment- Jeon Jungkook, yourself. With what was supposed to be a harmless way of paying off college debt faster you find yourself falling into a very odd and passionate relationship with your new mentor. Between infidelity, passion and jealousy there’s never a dull moment at Cherry Bomb.

↳ Pairing: Stripper!Jungkook/Reader

↳ Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, drama, slice of life, relationship problems without the relationship, reader is such a shy baby protect her, MUTUAL pining, so much sexual frustration,  

↳ Word count: 1.5k

Previous | Next

 Warning: This story touches on both sexual harassment and abuse, please read with caution if any of these things are triggers to you. Additional warnings will be given when a chapter present them.

~~~~

The things you did for your best friend was absolutely ridiculous, obscene and most of all embarrassing. It was her 22 birthday and naturally like any other young spirited adult, she had picked the equivalent in her choice of place to celebrate. She was howling out laughing, drink in hand and her face flushed red from all the previous alcohol she had drank, the shitty plastic tiara adorning her head making her stand out in the dimmed cherry red neon lit atmosphere.

Seulgi- was always the life of the party, no matter where she went, or what she did. She could always bring in a new crowd of people, or somehow convince you along with the majority of her other friends to go out.

How she convinced you to come here? Even that was beyond you. You were the typical introvert that seemed to compliment her extroverted nature, except at times like these. You had work in the morning and honestly? You’d rather be at home with a tub of cheesecake filling and the food network on, or maybe one of those house hunter shows?

You sank further into your sit as you sighed, unable to look up from the spot on the floor you had been practically checking out for the past five minutes, “Y/n! Oh my god- look it’s him!” Seulgi exclaimed loudly as a new song came out, she grasped your arm as she drunkenly shook you in excitement, “It’s the king!” 

It’s the whole reason she wanted to come. To see him. Knowing she wanted you to at least try and enjoy yourself you forced yourself to glance up from your spot on the floor, taking in the hue of dark red again that ran so deliciously against his body that leaned against the otherwise vacant pole. As soon as he glanced towards the crowd a wide cocky smirk pulled on his lips making you cower again back to your spot on the floor.

It was too much, just one look from someone attractive was way too much for you to ever handle. That being said Seulgi obviously wanted you to burn alive to drag you to a strip club on her birthday. She had apparently just discovered this place- Cherry Bomb and it’s ‘famous’ male strippers.

The one on stage being it’s biggest attraction or so she had told you. You had only come to appease her, it was her birthday and you couldn’t just not go because of your easily embarrassed nature. But you also had a boyfriend who wasn’t exactly happy to hear about where you’d be spending her birthday- of course you reassured him you’d try to be home at a decent hour and you were only going because of Seulgi. 

But still- you couldn’t help but feel your face getting hotter by the second as Seulgi wrapped an arm around your neck, “God he’s so (hic) hot- Y/n look! He’s taking off his shirt.” Just hearing her words had you flustered as you covered your face with your hands, unable to even think about what was currently taking place on stage.

He looked good- he looked insanely good, anyone would have to be blind to not acknowledge it. But seeing his body? You were sure you would’ve melted into the floor if you dared to look up from the ground at the supposed king.

But after hearing so many screams- and not just from your friend but from the whole building you finally caved into the temptation. 

Letting your eyes hesitantly lift back from the ground to the stage. Your pupils must’ve been hilariously blown out at the sight they met with. His body was so chiseled, shoulders wide that complimented the narrow hips and his thighs, good god his thighs.

They were muscular and taut, his tawny skin looking all the more delicable under the red lighting. He was on the floor of the stage, hips thrusting into the air slow and languidly bringing all sorts of dirty and embarrassing thoughts to your mind. 

His tongue dragging against his lower lips and his eyes were squeezed shut, the money was practically raining over his head and in that moment, you could have sworn it was like a masterpiece. He was a masterpiece shamelessly putting himself on display. It was when he opened his eyes again that you began to fumble in your seat. Because his eyes had met yours.

It could have only been for a brief second, but you wouldn’t have known due to your knee jerk reaction of covering your face with your hands. 

You had a boyfriend! You could feel all sorts of layers of shame cast over you at how easily corruptible your mind was. He loved you, he was sweet, and while he didn’t rival this guy in looks or body- you still loved him very much. You were currently chastising yourself repetitively when Seulgi had suddenly started screeching along with the rest of your acquaintances, “He’s coming over here! Oh my god, oh my god- he looks so hot up close.” She had whined out, her speech terribly slurred and you were afraid you were the only sober person at this point.

Her words made you pale in the face as your head shot up in surprise. 

But just as she said he was making his way over, and that could only mean one thing. He was looking to make extra by lapdance. By nature that was fine- you didn’t judge or care. But you sure as hell cared when you glanced up to see his eyes honed in on you. 

It was like all of your squealing friend’s didn’t existence in his mind but it only made you cower more. Attempting to pathetically hide yourself behind Seulgi in hopes he’d go for her, it was her birthday!

But that must’ve amused him further, his approach towards you wasn’t hurried, rather the opposite. The sway of his hips steady and he even had the audacity to smile cockily at you, as if knowing his very presence made you want to throw yourself off a cliff. It wasn’t that difficult to tell, admittedly.

It was difficult to not react as violently as you had. A nearly naked and good looking guy was standing right in front of you, looking down as if he had just found his next meal to devour, the smirk coiling on his lips, “Why so shy, baby?” 

Oh god, oh god anything but pet names please! You couldn’t even form in words as you gaped in horror, the red lighting was your only saving grace to hide your cheeks that undoubtedly were the same color as he shifted down to sit in your lap, careful to not put too much weight against your body, but enough to feel him.

And then he started rolling his hips slowly, but just the softest of movements made you hyper sensitive, you had let out the most embarrassing whimper at the feeling of his length, hard and throbbing rubbing against your thigh. He only laughed though- god his laugh, it was angelic for someone who was so disgusting in the most delicious way. He had barely touched you and you were already shamefully soaked.

It didn’t take much for you to get flustered, anyone could tell from the little they had gotten to know you- or flirted with you. And he was well versed in that language, letting his hips pick up in speed as he hummed something that sounded like a played off moan. One particularly hard thrust made you strangle out a whine again and your knuckles were going white to keep your hands off of him, off the temptation to touch his near perfect skin that just looked so tempting to kiss, to mark.

His music- thankfully came to an end, forcing his eyes that had been previously shut to flutter open as he sighed, making his way to stand up. You had let out a breath you had even realized you were holding in as you fumbled to grab the bills your friends had all laid on the table to chip in for your ‘experience’.

But he only laughed shaking his head much to your humiliation, kneeling down to eye level as the haughty smirk stayed on his lips, those dark sultry eyes burning into yours as he spoke, “Keep the money, those reactions were well worth it babygirl. Unless you really insist- but i'd rather have something else.” his voice was deep and husky making your body stir in compliance but your thoughts were spirally into an absolute flustered mess.

Crossing your legs tightly as you curled away from him shaking your head wildly while finally spitting out a stuttered reply, “N-no I’m good!”

But he only laughed at your face, tucking his tongue into his cheek with a confident smile, one that practically ruined you as he hummed, “See you around baby.”

Your friends were practically shouting at you for the missed opportunity but you could only take in deep breaths to calm your frantic heartbeat, watching his broad, muscular back saunter away in relief. 

It wasn’t too long after that you ended up leaving, having seen the main show Seulgi wanted to watch, albeit she was probably too drunk to remember the whole thing but that was besides the point. The cool night air was refreshing and you felt like your body and face both were finally cooled off as you walked her home, “He was so cute Y/n! You should’ve took his offer.” She hiccuped a complaint.

Pinching the bridge of your nose you sighed, “I have a boyfriend Seulgi, who I love for a matter of fact. Never bring me there again or else you’re dead to me, okay?”

She pouted like a puppy, fumbling in your grip as you stopped at the door of her apartment, another pitiful hiccup sounding from her lips as she whimpered, “Okay.”

You didn’t realize at the time, that your fate had been sealed. That this was going to be far from the last time you’d ever step foot into Cherry Bomb. And that was going to be far from the last time you’d ever see the king.

~~

Note: Hope y’all are prepare for some frustrated mutual pining and miscommunication bECAUSE DEAR GOD

Taglist: (hmu if you want on yo)

[insfiringyou]

BTS - Past Lives (V x Cassandra)

Contains: Discussions around pregnancy. Angst. Mentions of the past/confessions of love.

Set 2 days following the events of ‘Reaching Seoul’, Taehyung and Cassandra meet on neutral ground in a cafe. 

We wanted to show some moments between the members and their girlfriends that may not seem grand or important in the long run, but that highlight some of the conversations they might have in private. We also don’t want to shy away from some of the arguments, disagreements or bickering that might take place. 

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin  /   V   /   Jungkook & our full masterlist of fics and art can be found here

Content below the cut

He was glad to find the cafe almost deserted and that Cassandra had chosen a quiet corner to sit in. Being recognised at the service station two days before had thrown him after spending so long out of the public eye, and he had been careful getting here; taking only back-streets and donning casual clothes which were sure to make him blend in. He had considered, back in the hotel, on wearing a hat, but thought if anything it would make his features stand out more. 

The round table obscured the swell beneath her oversized jumper, and for a split second he almost forgot that anything had changed between them until she carefully rose from her seat as he joined her, shattering the illusion. He was unable to help his lingering gaze as she straightened up; her stomach straining heavily against the fabric. 

“Thanks for coming.” She said, keeping her voice low to avoid attracting any unnecessary attention. “I’ll get the drinks. Tea or coffee?”

He was silent for a moment, ashamed by his relief at her offer and realising that, like him, she was worried about him being spotted. “Tea.” He looked at her, hoping she would understand how grateful he was. She nodded politely before heading towards the counter on the other side of the room, disappearing from view. He knitted his thumbs together anxiously on the table, looking down when a young woman passed him on the way to the restroom. The rattling sound of unsteady porcelain brought his attention back, and he intuitively got to his feet as Cassandra turned the corner, precariously holding the tray of drinks. 

“Careful…” He murmured, taking it from her and setting it down gently on the table. Reaching forward, she took a sip of water from her glass and lowered herself on the chair opposite, watching him, observing. 

“You look better.” She finally said as he poured the steaming liquid from the teapot into his cup. He looked up at the sound of her voice. “Rested, I mean.” She clarified.

Taehyung sensed she was relieved, remembering how worked up and dry-eyed he had been when he saw her two days before. He had looked at himself in the bathroom mirror when he checked into the hotel and thought it was no surprise she had looked so shocked at his appearance. 

“I slept for the best part of a day.” He confirmed, blowing gently against the rim of the little porcelain cup. 

“You clearly needed it.” Her smile told him that she too was finding it hard to approach the subject they had both come here to discuss. Her initial suggestion of the cafe had seemed impersonal on the phone and he had almost protested, but he realised now why she had wanted to meet in public. Their conversation was undoubtedly more stilted than it would have been had they been alone in her apartment, but maybe that was what was needed. 

“I’m glad you called.” He admitted, taking a small sip to inadvertently avoid her gaze. He suddenly felt small and awkward, as though she would be able to see the undercurrent of his bubbling nerves.

“I know we don’t have long…I’m sorry.” She said softly, moving her chair aside to make room as the young woman came out of the restroom, casting no more than an uninterested glance at the both of them. The time he had booked off was already coming to an end, and he wished, more than anything, that he had trusted his instincts and bargained for a longer vacation. 

“It’s not…” He started, frowning as he tried to find the right words. He put the cup down and held his palm flat against the table, as though to keep his nerves in check. “I don’t want to upset you.”

“I know…” She admitted, her voice a whisper. 

“I want to do what’s right.” He confessed, realising as he said it that he had come to this conclusion the day before, knowing it was no use to argue with her, and that it would only make things worse. “But I’m not even sure what that means anymore...what it involves.” His voice trembled, and before he could think about how to cover it up, her hand slipped through his, holding it gently across the table. 

“Do you remember, when you first told me you loved me?” She asked. Her voice was melodic and kind but, he realised, without the nostalgia he would have expected. Taking a deep breath, he looked up, locking eyes. “You said you knew when you first saw me that we belonged together...that we were soulmates.” 

He felt a sour stab in his chest at the recollection, understanding that while the memory was a good one, it sounded strange hearing someone else say it. He remembered the way her bare skin smelt of incense and jasmine as he traced a pattern of moles on her shoulder; the comforting weight of her in his lap as he stroked her dark hair. She had been preoccupied with a stray strand of cotton which had come loose from the sofa, plucking at it with her fingers as he spoke, a gentle smile playing on both their lips as he trailed his fingertips from her body to the gentle slope of her nose, stroking it lovingly. He had always found her nose beautiful; more angular and pronounced than he was used to seeing. The words had spilled from his lips; his unselfconscious confession of love bearing no burden on him. She hadn’t answered at first, and he didn’t expect her to. He just needed her to know how he felt. 

“And when we spoke…” She continued. “It was as though you already knew me...like we’d known one another in a past life, and you wondered whether you’d made a mistake the first time, and were given a second chance to make things right.” 

“Cass..” He whispered, shifting on his seat. She made him sound so young, and yet he knew he had spoken those very words. Like the perfect actress; she had memorised them without realising; not knowing she would ever need to repeat his sentiment years later. Subconsciously, his eyes flickered to the place where the table blocked his view of her stomach. His monologue suddenly seemed childish.

“Let me finish.” She uttered gently. “I know you thought I wasn’t listening, and that what you were saying was just some…” Her lips twisted in thought, as though trying to translate the words in her head. “Post-coital daydream.” She shrugged, knowing it wasn’t exactly the right phrase, but would have to do. She ignored the slight flinch he gave, expecting it, and continued calmly. “But I think we both know that with this, we don’t get a second chance to make things right if we fuck up.” 

He fought the urge to explain or justify himself; knowing, frustratingly, that she was right. Instead, he sighed slowly. “Then let me help you. Let me be a part of this.” He squeezed her hand, allowing her to fall quiet. 

“You’ve still got a year left in service.” She said, pulling away slowly. He realised she wasn’t trying to pick fault with his words, but was simply stating a fact. 

“They’ll let me take the time off to be with you when it happens.” He said, not knowing if it was true. He would have to cross that bridge when the time came. 

She shook her head slowly. “If you do that, it’ll get out...your career will be over.”

“Let me worry about that.” He murmured, realising as he said it that it was a real possibility. 

Although they both knew the matter wasn’t settled, they fell silent, taking the opportunity to finish their drinks. He watched her place the empty glass on the tray, her movement distracting him from the wet streak which ran down her cheek. 

“I’m scared…” She admitted, the whimper in her voice drawing his attention to her face. His chest sank. 

“Me too.” He confessed quietly. 

She stifled a sob, trying to keep steady. “I feel like I’ve gone out to swim and the tide’s come in early…” He watched her reach for the napkin which had been placed under the water on the tray, and bunch it tightly between her fingers, twisting it absently with both hands as she spoke. “There’s no rule book or script telling me what I should do.” He didn’t think he had ever seen her so vulnerable but felt the echo of her words in his own chest. “I’m still wondering if I made the right choice.” She looked up at him with wet, brown eyes and his stomach churned at the memory of his accusation, two days before. Gently, he changed the topic. 

“Who’s been paying your rent? Ji-eun?” 

She nodded slowly, almost shamefully, and it made him ache unpleasantly that she should feel the need to be embarrassed by asking for help. 

“And you haven’t told your parents?” He continued. 

“I meant to.” She said weakly. “I just keep imagining their reaction...knowing they told me I wouldn’t be able to take care of myself.” More tears fell, though her voice had steadied, and he felt the humiliation in her words. It occurred to him, for the first time in such stark terms, that he too would have to tell his family, and the prospect suddenly seemed harder than the thought of giving up his career had been. He tried not to let on as she finished, wiping her eyes messily with the torn-up napkin. “It feels like a slap in the face.”

He let out a long breath of air. “It’s my fault too. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.” 

Her small hand was resting by the empty teapot, and he took it in his, meeting her small, timid smile as she gulped back the tears with a snort. 

“Look at us…” She laughed softly. “I always thought I was so grown up. That I was living the life I’d dreamed of as a child.” Shaking her head, she smiled nervously. “But now we both look like scared children.”

He knew she was right; it was though she could see right through him. But, suddenly, there was a strange comfort in knowing she felt the same; that whatever challenges they faced ahead would be navigated with a shared caution. “You’re the strongest person I know Cass.” Taehyung admitted without a pause for doubt, and he hoped that in her silence, she would be able to see it too. As they turned to watch the quiet lull of the street outside, he wondered if everyone felt this way; if anyone could truly be prepared for their life turning upside down so suddenly.

***

Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

& Our full masterlist of fics and original art can be found here

& Our masterlist of preferences/most likely to/quizzes and fun stuff is here

You can support us by buying admins a coffee here (if you wish). :)

[weirdochick56]

Gentle Notes- Dean Winchester One Shot

Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: None. Explicit language maybe? FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFFF.

Disclaimers: I don’t own any SPN characters/plots mentioned.

Word count: 1, 796

Summary: In which the reader hides the fact that she can sing from Dean and is one day caught doing exactly that by the eldest Winchester.

Listen to Kina Graniss’s version of “Can’t Help Falling In Love” Here!!

***

You look around your dull room in the mostly-vacant bunker with disdain. The boredom was overwhelming you so much, you had begun spacing out. And the book wasn’t even boring!

The Winchester brothers were probably on an adventure hunting down some monster, meanwhile here you were, practically chained to your bed reading a book.

And not even a lore book, mind you, but a romance novel. And it wasn’t the book itself that had you so jittery, it was the fact that you were reading a book for the first time in well, decades, for the purpose of entertainment and not research. 

You sigh, the small book feeling completely unsuitable in your lap in sharp contrast to the normally-heavy old, dusty books you were forced to go through. 

Closing your book shut and looking down at your cast-clad leg with hatred seemed fitting at the moment, though. Stupid leg, you grumble mentally. 

Getting it broken and being unable to complete the normal kick-ass, monster-hunting activities you were used to was one thing, but having Dean Winchester practically order you to stay home like a good girl and do mundane things while he and his brother got to go out and fuck up some demon was entirely different. 

Painfully different. 

Aggravatingly different. 

I’m-gonna-kick-your-ass-if-you-speak-like-that-to-me-again-Winchester different. 

So here you were, attempting with all your might (which wasn’t very much at the moment) not to scream in utter frustration. Hunting was your life. Hunting was the only thing you knew how to do. Well, as far as everyone knew. 

And sure, you’d gotten a few scrapes here and there, but nothing so serious you couldn’t hunt. Until now, that is. And until now, you hadn’t felt so...incapacitated. 

Shit, you frown. I need to do something. Researching was out of the question as Sam had somehow managed to scrape up all the necessary information up on his own. Cleaning? No, you’d already picked up after the messy brothers the night before. There was nothing to pick up. Sleeping? Nope, not tired. Eating? Not hungry. 

So?

And then suddenly, it hits you. How about covering?

You grin broadly, leaning over the side of your bed with a tiny groan when you accidentally twist your leg the wrong way and promptly tugging your old guitar from beneath your bed. 

Not the best option to keep your most prized possession, but enough to hide it from prying eyes. 

It’d been a while since you’d been able to string the guitar. To sing your heart out. Being with the brothers on the road constantly left you no time to listen to your own music, much less play it yourself. Not to mention you flat-out refused to let anyone hear you sing. Not because you were bad, because you knew you could sing, but because it just wasn’t something you were ready to share. Singing and playing the acoustic guitar was your thing. You weren’t sure if you were ready to let anyone know about it.

So confident that the brothers wouldn’t be back for another day, you decide to tune your guitar first and warm up your vocals. Then you press your back to the headboard, sitting up and letting your arm muscles relax onto the large instrument.

It had most certainly been a while since you’ve felt the familiar weight of your guitar and even longer since you’d open your mouth to so much as hum along to a song in fear of getting caught. 

You tested out the six strings on your guitar before settling for “Can’t Help Falling In Love” by Elvis Presley. It was your favorite to play on guitar and you’d sung it before. 

You cleared your throat, letting your fingers ghost over the strings before you let your let your eyes flutter shut and play the first chords. Then you opened your mouth. 

Wise men say only fools rush in But I can't help falling in love with you Shall I stay? Would it be a sin If I can't help falling in love with you?

The lyrics that come out of your mouth are breathy and slow at first. Raspy and barely audible, but sweet and smooth as honey. Full.

Like a river flows surely to the sea Darling so it goes Some things are meant to be Take my hand, take my whole life too For I can't help falling in love with you

You keep the strumming of your fingers over the guitar consistent and accurate, the familiar warmth of singing and playing the guitar flooding the pit of your stomach, wrapping around your whole body and shining through on your voice. 

You sounded magnificent. Full of emotion but still keeping your voice controlled. The pitch was strikingly on point and your mouth moved softly, encasing each soft murmur from your lips with full intent. You felt so happy.

Like a river flows surely to the sea Darling so it goes Some things are meant to be Take my hand, take my whole life too-

CRASH.

You immediately stop strumming, your voice getting caught in your throat and your eyes flying open. As soon as you do, you see Dean standing near your doorway, a wince clearly inscribed on his beautiful face and your alarm clock lying in pieces on the floor. 

Dean looks up at you with wide eyes and a sheepish smile. “Uh...sorry?”

Your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare at him. Oh no. Oh no. The cat was out of the bag! 

Then you groan, your cheeks flushed. “Oh God. I’m- when did you get here Dean?”

He smirks, regaining his composure almost immediately and approaches you with a smug jerk of his broad shoulders in his step and you figured a shitload of teasing was going to be coming your way which induced a grimace on your face almost immediately. 

 “I don’t think that matters much now, does it miss I-have- a-secret-singing-talent?” He raises his brows and you flush shamefully. By then he grins so wide you have a hard time figuring out how his face wasn’t split in half. “I mean, Goddamn, you have a set of pipes in you sweetheart!”

You groan again, covering your flushed face with your hands.

“Oh god. No one was supposed to know!”

You can hear him let out a surprised sound and cautiously take your hands off your face. He was looking at you like you’d grown two heads. “What?” 

Dean sits next to you, a soft smile gracing his perfectly-sculpted lips instead of the condescending one from before. “Nothing. I just can’t seem to figure out, for the life of me, why someone with such a beautiful voice would ever want to hide it away from anyone. From me.” He looks at you pointedly.

Your blush intensifies and you can’t help but smile at him shyly. “I just- I don’t want people to look at me negatively, ya’ know? For having my own thing, I mean.” Your voice is far too low. 

Dean sighs with exasperation and takes your face in his hands softly, forcing you to look into his absurdly bright green eyes. 

“Sweetheart, no one’s gonna look down on you for singing like a fucking angel.” He pauses to chuckle a little and you’re left a little breathless at the sound. “And not the asshole ones either, the naked babies with halos and shit.” He beams. “I mean, hell, you have the goddamn most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard!” he bites his lip in order to contain his excitement but fails miserably. 

You forget how to breathe for a second. He’s being so supportive and his face is so close to yours and suddenly you have this overwhelming impulse to kiss him senseless.  

You gulp, chuckling softly. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, Dean.” 

His face turns serious and he looks scrutinizingly into your eyes. “Y/n, I’m fucking serious. You might be a great hunter, but with talent like that, you could become a star or something.” 

You laugh a little at his words and blush once more. “That’s not really my thing, D. Hunting is my life. And singing is only a passion. I can’t have both.”

His lips twitch at the corners a little and his eyes are sad when he leans in and kisses your forehead. You suck in a sharp breath and your chest feels warm with adoration.

Then he looks at you, eyes soft. “Y/n, I’ve never seen you so engrossed in something. You looked so...so beautiful. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

You scoff, hiding a blush, and shake off his hands gently. “You’re just saying that,” you mumble.

He cups your face again, forcing you to look at him once more. Your breath hitches at the look he’s giving you. His sparkling green eyes glimmer with pure, sheer -almost overwhelming- adoration. He looks at you as if no one else mattered in the entire universe. Your noses brush and his gaze flickers to your lips, bright green irises darkening to dark shimmering emerald. 

“I’m not, sweetheart. Trust me when I tell you that you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You blink a few times, your cheeks blushing and your head unable to wrap around the thought of someone as devastatingly handsome as Dean thinking you were attractive. Gorgeous.

“Dean-“ you go to protest but Dean effectively shuts you up by placing a finger over your lips.

As he shushes you, his eyes never part from your lips as he licks his own subconsciously.

“Y/n. I’m going to kiss you now. I think you should know this because I’m giving you the chance to back out.”

Your breath hitches and your heart races but you don’t move an inch. Dean seems to understand your approval as he slowly leans in, eyes fluttering shut. Your eyes fall shut too and you can feel his warm breath fanning your face as your stomach knots in anticipation.

He hovers over your lips for only a few seconds before leaning in and pressing them firmly to yours. 

Your breath catches and you lightly part your lips, enveloping his passionately and cradling his face caringly in between your hands. His stubble tickles your fingertips and you shiver lightly at the sensation. 

The kiss is gentle, sweet, bit filled with obvious craving and your head spins at how good he smells and feels like this. 

It’s over sooner than you expected and your eyes flutter open. 

“Dean-” you breathe. 

He smirks softly, caressing your face lovingly. “You didn’t back out.”

You blush, leaning into his touch. “Why would I?”

***

Here’s an olddddddd one shot I wrote and had in my drafts hope you enjoyed.

A Special thanks to my forevers:

@jessikared97​

@lilypalmer1987​

@ladyofletters67​

@sammykb1994​

@mogaruke​

[peter-pan-on-neverland]

Master plan

Request: Felix has to go on a mission and pan wants y/n to go with him, so when Felix wants to go to tell her, he accidentally walks in when she changes into her night clothes and he is instantly turned on but also embarrassed. Of course Y/N will react shocked and pushes him out but afterwards both start to think about each other a lot and and things will get less akward bc they are alone. Maybe they start making out and Felix takes her against a tree.

Pairing: Felix x reader

Warning: suggestive

*I'm making two part of this*

Night fell on the small, magical island, dotting the dark navy blue sky with bright, twinkling stars. Once again the notorious Pan was tucked away in his wooden tree house, researching, plotting, trying to come up with a master plan in order to become immortal. The king of Neverland grinned from ear to ear as his eyes shrinked to the size of slits, he finally had an answer to the question he had been asking himself for so long, how to freeze the hour glass.

Tightly gripped in his hands was the ancient pages of the oldest book in all the realms, squiggly black writing stared back at him, giving him all the knowledge he needed. Discarding the "true loves kiss" part, that seemed to be written out neatly in every book he had read so far, there was an alternative, another way. The heart of the truest believer, a person with a soul as pure as gold and a mind full of imagination, that was what he needed. To Pan's surprise there was a tea stained page dangling helplessly from the spine of the old book, deciding to take the poor thing out of its misery the boy wrapped his fingers around it before giving a light tug. It fell out with ease, flipping it over to reveal what was on the other side. Evergreen eyes dance over the page, taking in the features of the dark haired boy that seemed to be scribbled on it.

Cogs slowly started to turn in the leaders head, the only thing on the page was a drawing and a date, 15.8.01. He racked his brain for answers, what did this mean? And that's when it all clicked, the boys birthday was neatly written out under his portrait, now Pan knew who he was looking for and when he was born, perfect.

"Felix!" Pans voiced boomed through camp as he came flying out of his tree house at the speed of light, scaring off any animal or creature that dared to step foot near his domain while he searched for his second in command.

Silently, Felix stalked over to his boss, clutching his wooden club between his rough hands. Stormy blue eyes met emerald green ones as the leaders blonde counterpart towered over his body like a sky scraper.

“There’s something I need you to do for me.” A menacing smirk crawled onto the Kings lips, meanwhile the second in command awaited to hear what news his friend had to tell him.

“What is it?” The lost boys quite, low voice inquired.

As Pan explained his idea to him a sinister grin started to form on Felix’s pink lips, his messy blonde hair whipped about in the refreshing wind as his listened with interest.

“There’s just one thing.” The leader trailed off, “Y/n will need to come with you, she is more experienced when it comes to realms with no magic.”

The golden glow that painted Felix’s sharp features hid his blush well at the sound of your name, he was surprised that just the thought of their one and only lost girl could make him feel butterfly's. For a while the boy had contemplated over and over again what it was he truly felt for you, was it just some stupid little crush that would leave as quickly as it came, or was it something more? As the days stretched into months the lost boy came to the conclusion that he, in fact, liked you, a lot.

But alas, Felix had a reputation to uphold, not just for Pan’s sake, but for your sake too. Pan had always told the boys that love is weakness, and they were not weak, if Hook caught wind of Felix’s little crush, you were sure to be in danger.

"I'll go and let her know." The lost boy spoke in his usual monotone voice before making his way over to your tree house.

Silently, he climbed the rickety ladder, banging his knuckles against the wooden door before wrapping his fingers around the door knob, the cold metal sending an uncomfortable shiver through Felix's hand as he pushed the wooden slab open.

"Hey Y/n, Pan wants-" He froze in place as his sharp features turned as white as paper.

There you were, beautiful as ever and the most exposed Felix had ever seen you. Your flesh was on display whilst his eyes wondered over your body, drinking up the sight of your collarbone, boobs, stomach, all the way down to your lacy panties that clung to you ass nicely.

The boy would be lying if he said he wasn't hard right now, imagining all the things he could do to you. Smirking to himself he imagined what you would look like beneath him, the way you would cry out in pleasure because of his actions. Shaking his head, the lost boy snapped out of his trance, those thoughts were stored in the back of his mind, for now.

The lonely candle in the corner of the room illuminated your tiny cabin, casting everything in a burnt orange glow as it painted your skin. Your red cheeks had not been covered up by the candle light, instead the soft honey colour seemed to make your brick dusted face pop.

Desperately, you fumbled around the room, rushing to pick up the daisy coloured night gown which had fallen on the floor the minute the blonde, lost boy barged in.

"S-sorry! I-I didn't-" Felix tried his absolute hardest to tear his icy eyes away from your wonderful body, forcing himself to look away, yet somehow he always found his eyes floating back to you as you impatiently threw the dress on your exposed flesh.

"You can look now." Your quiet voice soured through the air before tunneling into his ears.

Turning to face you he couldn't help but picture what you looked like just mere seconds before.

Awkwardly shuffling, your eyes were glued to your feet, too embarrassed to meet the boys gaze, meanwhile he was struggling to keep his off you, as your finger nails trailed up and down your arm.

"So, anyways" Felix let out an awkward cough, "As I was saying, Pan wants you to come on a mission with me."

Your e/c eyes widened in shock at his words, your head snapped up meeting the second in commands gaze as if you were challenging him.

"He-he wants me to come with you?" You asked, almost sounding afraid, but Felix couldn't quite understand why.

"Um, yeah." He shrugged simply, "were leaving tomorrow, so pack up everything you need."

With that the second in command swiftly exited your humble abode, rushing out of the door before closing it quietly behind him.

Lurking in the dark part of Felix's mind the sound of your moans filled his ears, he wanted you so bad, but he couldn't have you. Suddenly he found himself becoming more and more excited for this trip of yours.

Morning came quicker than you would've liked, all night you had been shamefully pleasing yourself after that little run in with Pan's most trusted lost boy, which had left you all hot and bothered. The though of facing him made your stomach churn guilt-fully, was it wrong to think if him like that? You had been friends for years and you had came to terms with the fact that you liked him, but you had never done anything like that before.

"All packed to go?" Pan's haunting voice popped up out of no where, causing you to jump out of your skin.

Silently, you nodded as his best friend came into view, your once normal cheeks flashed red. The pair exchanged some parting words while the leader placed a forest green jelly bean into Felix's hand, your eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Its a magic bean." The two boy's laughed at your reaction, what do we need a magic bean for?

Without saying a word the lost boy dropped it on the floor, the ground started to swirl, all kinds of wonderful colours blended together as the wind violently whipped around us. Howling filled your ears as your hair was permanently stuck in front of your face.

"You ready?" The tall boy checked and you nodded in reply before jumping in.

Everything went black, you couldn't feel anything as your soul was plunged into darkness before your e/c eyes opened once again. You brain pounded against your skull, the sound of zooming cars filled you ears as your eyes snapped open, taking in your surroundings.

"Are we?" You asked the tall blonde boy who sat beside you.

"In your world, yes." He confirmed your suspicions.

"Pan has some... friends here, they can help us." A sinister tone masked his voice on the word 'friends' as you begin to grow worried, who exactly were these people?

With a screech of tires and an array of smoke, a cherry red convertible car halted before the tow of you, the harsh beam of the headlights made your head spin as your eyes adjusted to the light . Unfamiliar characters sat in the front seats, the taller of the two was driving. His glasses sat on his slightly crooked nose while his bronze coloured hair swooped across his chocolate eyes. The other was shorter, his brown eyes stared into your e/c ones intently as his short, dark brown hair whipped around in the air.

Without opening his tightly shut mouth, Felix climbed into the car, you awkwardly followed his lead, still not entirely sure why you were here.

Revving filled the air as you spun off down the road, instinctively holding onto the blonde boy next to you. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped onto him for dear life, if it weren't for the wind forcing his hair in his face you would've seen the light pink tint on his cheeks as your hand found his.

The feeling of your skin on his causing the boys to have a whirl wind of emotions. The only thought that consumed his mind was you, the way you looked when he had accidentally walked in your cabin without a second thought, and oh boy is Felix glad he made that mistake. All night and all day you were you were the only thing that played on his mind, it was no lie that the lost boy found you attractive, that much was evident from his boner, which he was unaware was sticking through his trousers, but his feelings for you went a little deeper than that. Yes, he wanted to touch and please you like no one else had done before, he wanted to tie you down and make you scream but he also wanted to make you smile and hear you melodic laugh. You didn't know it yet and Felix didn't know it ether, but you are each others worlds.

Thankfully that car ride was short and sweet, coming to a stop rather quickly as a grand house came into view. The Victorian styled building looked like it was a relic frozen in time, lush green vines scaled up the red bricked walls while white, laced trimming clung to the roof. Golden lights were switched on in almost every room, making the house feel like one gigantic doll house to play with until your hearts content.

The strange men stepped out of the car, not saying a word as their keys clicked together before opening the old door. Although the exterior of the house was looked ancient the interior was modern and sleek, not fitting in with the ear of the house at all.

"I'll take you to your room." The taller ones deep voice bounced off the walls.

"Room?" You inquired, suddenly you felt your face grow hot at the idea of shearing a room with the second in command, especially after last night.

Swiftly turning around on his heel the strangers honey coloured eyes sought out your e/c one, "Yes, room." He confirmed before rushing off up the stairs, you and Felix trying you best to keep up with the fast moving boy.

By the time the two of you traveled up to the top at such a fast pace you were out of breath, lightly panting as the wooden door of your room creaked open.

The room was small, but lovely, a large white window sat on the right hand wall, allowing the street light to flood into the room. A double bed sat along the back wall, little side table standing ether side of it while a large oak wood wardrobe was sat in the corner of the room. With a flick of a switch the room became flooded with soft honey coloured light, comfortably reminding you of your candles back in Neverland.

“I’ll leave you two it.” The tall man spoke, his monotone voice lingered in the air as he walked away, leaving you and Felix alone in the little room.

“I...I guess we should get some sleep.” The boy stated, his hot breath traveled down your neck, tickling the hairs as they stood tall and proud.

You found yourself speechless, no words managed to fall past your lips, slowly you raised your head, peering into the boys eyes before giving a slight nod.

His footstep echoed through the room as he went to close the curtains, but you found yourself stuck in place, unable to move but not sure why. e/c orbs were glued to Felix, the way he moved around the room before turning his back on you whilst he undid his cloak, letting it fall to the floor. Pink dust coated your cheeks as you watched him, but you still weren’t able to look away. Neck, he lifted his arms high above is head in an act to remove this shirt, his muscly back was slowly revealed to you as though his shirt there the curtain at a theater.

“It’s rude to stare.” The lost boy joked, while you jumped back, surprised, embarrassed and shocked, how did he know?

Turning to face you, you couldn’t keep your eyes off his bare chest no matter how hard you tried, “S-sorry, I... I didn’t mean-”

The second in command smiled to himself as you stumbled over your words, oh how the tables have turned, he thought.

“Relax.” He spoke, placing a hand on your shoulder, the slight contact made you melt under his touch whilst your body instantly relaxed, “Let’s just get some sleep.”

Still as hot as you had ever been you found yourself climbing into bed with the second in command before he turned out the lights, wrapping yourself up in the warm covers as if to make a mini barrier from him, but you would be a fool if you though that was going to stop him.

The feeling of his skin touching yours as he lay down lit a fire inside you, the blush on your cheeks got worse and worse as time went by.

“I need some covers too you know.” Felix chuckled. 

Not a single word tumbled past your lips, not a single one, as you slyly moved over to the other side, allowing him access to the quilt. You didn���t realize how much room he had taken up until you felt his chest flush up against your back.

Turning around in the covers your eyes sought out his, peering deep into them. No words were exchanged as you looked into each others eyes, you felt his hand on your chin, bringing your face closer and closer to his.

You were stuck in a trance, a blissful daze as his lips met yours and you found yourself kissing back, you had wanted this for so long and so did he. You seemed to get lost in the kiss, not being able to pull yourself away.

In one smooth motion the second in command bought you on top of him, all the while never breaking the kiss that the two of you shared. The rest of the night was spent with the two of you between the sheets, clothes long since forgotten as you got lost in each others bodies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I got it up! I'm sorry if you dont think it's as good as my stories usually are, the ending was a little rushed (sorry)!

I hope you enjoyed it! 🥰❤😍 xxxxx

@nevereverlandboys @lady-of-lies @lonesome-loser @celestial-neverland

[blushnote]

hiii!! could u pls do a ceo soonyoung or jeonghan where the reader is the very clumsy assistant and they get on the CEO’s bad side but like they are alone one time and the ceo makes the move

↳ requested | 1.7k words

↳ ceo!jeonghan smut

a/n: hi! i decided to go with jeonghan, hope you enjoy it!

there is really nothing to be done about your inevitable clumsiness.

yes, you realize it is probably not normal to spill the same damn box of paperclips three times in one afternoon, nor is it sophisticated to drop the coffee pot into the sink with an embarrassingly loud clatter because your fingertips had suddenly decided to become as slippery as soap.

you realize the other employees at the company headquarters cast you searing glances from a peripheral eye, to which you can only smooth your palms along the tight fabric of your pencil skirt and pretend you had not noted their contempt. even the CEO cannot repress his assailing, long-winded sighs.

yoon jeonghan is your higher up. he is youthful, polished, astonishingly intelligent, and leads his employees with a firm hand. shamefully, you dream about him, the venereal type of dream where you awake into the blackness with sweat slick to your skin and a slight ache buzzing between your legs.

it’s even worse having to stand before him in his office the following morning, watching how he spins a pen between his slender fingers, instructing you of your first task. you attempt desperately to pay attention, but as he leans back in his seat and sweeps a hand through his thick, penny hair, you shut down.

“you seem distracted, honey,” he tends to deeply sigh while seemingly gazing into your clandestine soul, “everything okay?”

and suddenly you can do nothing apart from swallow the dried remnants of saliva at your throat, stumbling about how you’re perfectly fine, instantly dismissing your fleeting reverie in which jeonghan was nestled between your thighs, heated licks pressed slowly up your slit until you gasped for more.

jeonghan always notes your abrupt eagerness to receive your first task, how your fingernails sink painfully into the flesh of your palms while you refuse to look anywhere but his eyes. then, after he assigns you to go organize his files or book his following meetings, you nearly trip on your way out the door.

you suspect that you irritate him with your clumsiness in some ways, but perhaps you wouldn’t be so goddamn abnormally hazardous if you could concentrate rather than covertly longing to be crammed beneath his desk, laving your tongue across the sensitive, flushed head of his cock.

whenever he beckons you into his office to scold you for spilling yet another pot of coffee into the sink or knocking over the paper shredder for the third time, you hate that arousal begins to build in your core as he admonishes you. his eyes often flit darkly and his tongue turns sharper than a razor.

“if i have to pull you into my office again,” jeonghan folds his arms over his chest and sits slightly on the lip of his desk, “then we going to have a very unpleasant conversation that neither of us will enjoy. do you understand, honey? do i need to make myself any clearer for you?”

every single time, you have managed to remain calm and return to your work.

but today is much different. it’s a late night and few employees have been asked to stay behind and finish the loose ends of varying projects. jeonghan never leaves until the last employee has deserted the building. it was an awful day. jeonghan had harshly disciplined you right in front of your own coworkers.

you’re still feeling the dense heat of his earlier vitriol bubble in your blood as the last employee shuts down his computer for the night. it is then that jeonghan hovers at the door frame of his office, not saying a word, but wriggling his finger and signaling for you to come talk with him.

seokmin, the remaining employee, brushes his hand along your shoulder before he grasps up his keys, murmuring a quiet, “good luck,” before he pushes through the exit. yeah, it’s a possibility you are definitely going to need it as a sigh balloons from your lungs and you trudge slowly into his office.

the room is more silent than the vacuum of outer space. there you are again, standing coyly before him, fiddling with the cream white sleeves of your blouse while anticipation welts upon your flesh like a burning sun ray. jeonghan is collapsed in his leather chair.

you notice his hair is attractively disheveled, his tie slightly loosened and crooked against his dress shirt, his legs spread wide in a way that seems to represent his hopelessness at ever shaping you into an efficient assistant. he cuffs his sleeves up to his elbows, and you trace the veins on his pale arms.

“what am i going to do with you, honey?” jeonghan suddenly sighs. “it’s difficult for me, y’know? having to scold you as often as i do.”

“yes sir, i apologize. i will do better next time. i really, truly promise i’ve learned my lesson.” as awkward as the job can be, you do wish to keep it.

he chuckles. “that’s the thing. i don’t think you have learned, sweetheart.”

the rims of your eyes widen, like a full moon. jeonghan smirks at you.

“i know you think about me,” he says unabashedly, without hesitation, “that you pleasure yourself with the image of my tongue sliding right into your pretty little pussy. that you practically salivate over the thought of sucking me off at my desk, my come painting the back of your throat like it’s ice cream.”

inwardly, you are decaying fragment by fragment. jeonghan reads you as easily as bold print; he can almost smell the scent of the slick that currently soaks into your underwear. in a metaphorical sense he has you by the throat. you’re pinned to the lust that permeates your senses and makes your heart beat.

“come here.” jeonghan coos, rolling back in his chair to give you enough room to stand right in front of him.

your tailbone digs into his desk. his gaze is thick with desire; it swirls like the stardust of a crumbling galaxy in his eyes, boring directly into you. for a moment you feel paralyzed, as though you are truthfully living out an erotic episode from a twelve am fever dream.

“take your skirt off and sit on the desk.” comes his following order.

however, you know the scenario you’re in is one-hundred percent reality when you fumble hastily for the zipper at the side of your dark, cherry red skirt. he watches in sincere pleasure as you slide the constricting fabric down your legs and step out from it, lightly kicking it aside with your foot.

then, you hop back onto his desk, a flustered but excited smile shining on your lips for a transient moment.

jeonghan’s hands lands on your knees. his warm, smooth palms grazes up your bare legs, sliding toward the soft inside of your thighs where he gradually parts them and reveals the damp spot that had formed against the pale blue cotton. you feel something molten engulf your body when he nearly growls.

“what a little whore you are,” jeonghan grits, “so fucking wet and needy. i bet this is what happened every time i ever scolded you, isn’t that right, honey?”

splaying your arms out behind you on the desk, you nod dumbly, “mmhm. i-i just, i couldn’t help it.”

a shiver courses down your spine like a droplet of arctic water as jeonghan grasps your hips and buries his face at your abdomen, the warm sensation of his tongue slowly licking over your bud through the thin cotton layer making you inexplicably dizzy. he purrs in satisfaction as a gasp escapes your lips.

“you know, sweetheart,” jeonghan pulls his face away from your core and casts a hand through his velvet tresses, “i’ve thought about you too, eating you out in the middle of the day, right on my desk, while the office buzzes and people stand right outside my door. bet you’d like that one day, wouldn’t you?”

“y-yes,” you splutter, “yes sir, i’d l-love that.” you know that you probably don’t have to call him sir in this situation, but that thought slips away from you.

jeonghan’s entire face ignites. he’s deeply pleased with the name, and once he has discarded your underwear clean off to some meagerly glowing corner of the office, he ravishes you. his tongue delivers an unfathomable sensation as it licks firmly up your slit and swirls in wet, messy patterns at your aching bud.

he suckles and lightly nips, eliciting an arrangement of the most impure sounds that could ever echo from your chest. a hand winds through jeonghan’s thick strands of hair, pulling tautly once he begins flicking his tongue quickly and sharply at your clit before soothing the area with a soft series of licks.

the tears are pricking like dew droplets at your eyes. your thighs squeeze firmly around his head. for a moment you fear you might crush him, though it is difficult to process coherent, sensible thoughts when jeonghan has managed to wriggle his tongue past your slit, your taste more desirable than sugar.

“o-oh, ff-fuck, mmff-uck! s-sir, it f-feels so g-good, d-ddon’t stop, please–,” you splutter as he begins fucking you as deep as possible with the slick muscle, ensuring his palms have a tight lock on your hips to keep you still and helpless to the euphoria.

in a merciless weep, you nearly spasm across the desk. jeonghan drags out his tongue and licks a broad, sticky, wet strip up your sensitive flesh. his voice is breathy, yet honeyed in pleasure.

“you could fucking suffocate me, sweetheart, i swear you could fucking suffocate me between your thighs and i’d die the happiest i’ve ever been.”

suddenly jeonghan stands despite your close climax. he appears to tower over you, his pink lips glossy in your arousal that is quickly stolen into his mouth by a clever tongue. it is then that you realize, how excruciatingly hard jeonghan has gotten behind his black pants. a whole new wave of neediness washes over you as he grasps his belt.

“but right now, i just need to fuck you. would you like that, sweetheart? would you like to take every inch of me until you’re crying all pretty and blissed out?”

your gaze is fixated on his slender fingers slipping out the leather belt that he tosses to the floor. biting down on your bottom lip, you realize that your clumsiness might not be as detrimental as initially expected, especially when you mewl out, “yes sir,” before jeonghan is bending you back over his desk.

[adrrianraines]

metamorphosis

genre: romance book: bloodbound pairings: adrian raines x mc song inspiration: breath of life—florence and the machine

disclaimer: this has been playing on my mind for so long lmao. third time i wrote something for bb mc and adrian. enjoy!

AMIDST THE WARMEST OF HUGS you could ever receive, the happiest of laughter and the excitement and awe of your return, something tugged your gut, the familiar sinking feeling irrevocable. Familiar faces swarmed as they congratulated you but something was clearly lacking among the crowd.

Though it is not something.

But someone.

“Welcome back,” Kamilah Sayeed came forward and enveloped you to a brief yet warm contact. “You’re… truly something else.”

You gave her a half-hearted smile, eyes unable to focus. The renewed strength residing deep within you still so new to control and so hard to suppress. You had no clear recollection of what exactly happened after the confrontation, your mind only flashing faint after-images of Adrian.

“Adrian... Where is he?” The words came out like a croak, throat still hoarse and dry from the few hours you’ve spent inside the enclosed dark space.

The three of them looked at each other, unable to answer you immediately. Lily only grunted as Jax looked at you with pity in his eyes. Kamilah cleared her throat as she placed a hand on your shoulder, gaze strong and hard as steel.

“I told him to take a rest for a bit.” She answered. But you knew it wasn’t the case. There was something else there.

“What do you mean?” You tried not to sound suspicious as you swallowed deeply, the burning sensation on your mouth starting to make itself known. Kamilah quirked a brow as she motioned Lily to pick up something from behind you.

On your left, Lily handed you a goblet filled to the brim with red liquid. The glow in your eyes going intense each moment that passed without you touching the material at hand. You stared at it, compelled to take a swig, attracted to the sweet smell inside. But you narrowed your eyes and shot a glare at Kamilah’s way only for her to look at you bemusedly.

“What is it? Drink. You’re in the middle of transition.” She motioned the goblet by your side, hanging in the air at Lily’s hand.

“I’m supposed to be dead.” You whispered, memories of what happened flooding through your mind like a raging wildfire. “What... what happened to me?”

You gazed at the faces of your friends, each of them had their mouth tightly shut. Not less than 24 hours ago you were resolute in saving your friends, the love of your life and going down as a mortal. It was agonizing to begin with the realization that you’re beneath all these godlike creatures but you were more than happy to be of help even with how fragile you are compared to them.

Fear and panic started to rise up your system with each moment of silence that passed. You knew, of course, what was happening. You saw it happen to Lily. You just needed confirmation. You just needed to make sure.

Lily looked at you with sadness while Jax shook his head as if to tell you not to argue any longer. Kamilah heaved a tired sigh as she grabbed the chalice in Lily’s hand and thrust it to your direction.

“Drink it, and I assure then that we’ll talk later.” Kamilah insisted, a growing slight look of worry flashed on her deep brown irises. “Please.”

You bit back the urge to devour the slosh of red liquid on the goblet as you rolled your hands to a fisted fury. “I’m dead… I’m supposed to be dead. Why am I still here?”

Slowly, memories flashed in your head, replaying the last thing you could remember before closing your eyes. The familiar throb of pain tingling in your chest. You winced at the sensation of being stabbed over and over again.

You remember staking Gaius and being stabbed in return You remember blots of red in your chest as blood spilled out of your mouth when you stumbled You remember falling to ground as Adrian caught you in between his arms, his face stricken with tears, voice a broken record of plead, regret and hurt And then darkness.

“Where is Adrian?” You repeated once again, surprised by how firm your voice sounded. You turned a gaze towards Lily who shamefully averted her eyes away from you, as if she couldn’t bear to look at you this moment. There was a look of regret in her eyes.

You turned to look at Jax who, for the millionth time, heaved a sigh. He was noticeably bare, with only a black shirt and denim pants in his physique. No leather jacket nor his sword anywhere in his possession. Another bang of memory raked your mind and the material that stabbed you became apparent. You winced again at the familiar feeling of pain.

It was Jax’s sword. For a moment, you looked forlorn as you were reminded by this and the fact that his sword was nowhere in sight only heightened the broken feeling you had. Not only for you bu alsot for him.

Jax cleared his throat as he took a tentative step towards you, arms crossed over his chest. “We don’t know. He… hasn’t come back since putting you inside that coffin.”

Your lips trembled as you slowly sank lower, your knees giving in on you. You stumbled forward as Kamilah made a work of quickly catching you, the chalice tripping over and staining your already bloodied clothes.

“Oh shit,” Lily cursed as she frantically picked up the item and fumbled on her pockets for a handkerchief. She was able to produce a small, checkered purple handkerchief and gave it to you. You turned a weak look at her as you accepted the cloth.

“Lil,” You called and immediately noticed how her eyes were visibly wet with tears. She was trying hard to bite back a sob, her brows furrowing in concentration. You reached out and touched the edge of her eyes and offered a small smile. “Your eyeliner’s all messed up.”

With a choked laughter, she pulled you in for a hug, now unable to fully stop herself from crying. “Godamnit, you had us all worried there.”

You returned the gesture by patting her shoulder gently as she squeezed you harder.

Jax squatted in front of you, his hard gaze leveling yours. “…I’m happy to see you well. Believe me.” His voice sounded very repentant, eyes cast with shadows far different from before.

“Jax…” You trailed off, as you gently let go of Lily and focused on him. He looked tired. The bags under his eyes darker than before. You motioned to grab his hand and lightly squeeze it as he returned the  gesture.

“You’re really something else, aren’t ya?” His smooth voice humored as he tore his gaze from your connected hands. He pulled you in an unexpected embrace. You can feel his very sincere emotions as you let him hold you like that for a while. The worry, the edge, the sadness, the guilt, the regret… as well as the joy and relief could be felt within his arms. You hugged him back weakly as you let out the first chuckle after being confined in the darkness for what felt like an eternity.

“Now,” Kamilah intercepted. Jax let you go as he moved to stand up. You felt Lily guide you to stand up as Kamilah dragged you up by the hand.

“Now what?” Lily asked.

“Now, what happens to me?” You questioned, ignoring the sweet scent of blood still wet on your clothes.

“Now… you transition.” Kamilah stated. “I’m sure… you’re fairly aware of it.”

You paused, gaze blank as you looked at her. The mad pounding of your heart and the unbelievable thirst raging your insides, fighting one another. You struggled to keep your composure as you swallowed hard. Bullets of sweat formed around your forehead as you took a small moment to swallow and absorb whatever you were hearing.

“Just like that?” Your voice came out tiny, trembling and unsure.

“Just like that.” Kamilah repeated your words with finality but the look on her face told you she wasn’t happy about anything that’s happening.

“Just like that...” And it all sank in. “Then I’m dead... Just like that...”

You stumbled forward, everything weighing down in an instant. Your head felt light as you choked back a small sob from coming out. Everything was overwhelming. Everything was sudden. Everything felt heavy and burdened you to the core.

“This is not what we wanted to happen…” Kamilah cooed sadly as she supported you by the shoulder. “But trust me when what we all wanted was to save you.”

Breathe. You ordered yourself as you tried to calm down. Breathe, you idiot!

You gasped as you clutched her arms, your head slowly resting on her shoulders.

“I… I’m not human anymore?” You weren’t so sure about why you needed to confirm that. When you woke up earlier you already felt something was different. But a part of you couldn’t quite grasp the concept of it all. “I’m supposed to be dead. I’m…”

“Sshh… We’re here…” Kamilah pulled you in an embrace as she gently patted your head. The familiar feeling of being stabbed by the unknown without any anchor was choking you. The familiar sensation of having to deal with this change alone was scary.

And to top it all, the person you wanted to see when you wake up was nowhere to be found.

“Who… who turned me?” You whispered against her embrace. You felt Kamilah stiffen at the question as she slowly released you from her hold. She scanned your face and held your gaze.

“Adrian.” The moment his name rolled off her lips, you let out a soft gasp. “The blood in the chalice was his. It’s supposed to aid your transition… to keep you from becoming feral.”

As if something ignited in your system, you felt uncontrollable emotions in your chest.

Surprise? Gratefulness? Frustration? Disappointment? Anger? Definitely all those.

“Adrian…” You repeated his name under gritted teeth as you felt your blood boil, worry and fury consuming you. The strength residing within you was desperately trying to get out. “Then why is he not here?”

“I told you, he-” And as if on cue, you pushed Kamilah out of your way, thought lost in focus, strength catching her off guard. She stumbled against the railing of the staircase as you moved impeccably fast, leaving all three of your friends behind. You can hear Jax and Lily desperately calling out your name from behind.

Adrian.

You navigated the familiar corridors of Raines Corp.’s basement archives. You stopped abruptly in front of the elevator. But when you heard a group of frantic footsteps behind you, you took a turn and headed to the emergency staircase, leaving all of them behind.

Adrian.

Within only a few minutes, you’ve covered enough flights of stairs to completely leave all of them behind. You didn’t care if you looked like shit. You went on barefoot, clothes stained with unimaginable amounts of blood. Your blood and Adrian’s blood when it got spilled out of the chalice earlier.

Adrian.

Morbid thoughts haunted you like wild dogs. He was not there since he dropped you off the sarcophagus after dying. You woke up and didn’t see him. He hasn’t come back.

Adrian hasn’t come back.

You shook your head as you swallowed hard, the lump on your throat gaining in on you as you moved fast, desperate. A few moments and you’ve finally reached the top most floor, to where his office was located. You were welcomed with a dimmed area, the empty reception desk - your desk - still looked the same like it was before all went to hell in New York City.

You moved silently, bare foot touching the cold marbled floors. You shivered at the contact but continued. The throbbing in your head growing madly every second that passed by. You haven’t drank anything at all. The spot in your chest where the wound was located still hurting. You clutched it tightly as you slowly walked towards his double doors.

You pushed it open to be welcomed with absolute darkness. You fumbled over the side, looking for the switch. Something moved against the dark that alarmed you. You jumped in surprise as you heard a smooth, deep baritone commanding, “Lights: On.”

When the room started to be illuminated, you gasped, heart pounding madly against your chest. Adrian looked equally surprised as you are. He stood there, mouth gaping, eyes wide in confusion and shock.

“Adrian…” You were the first to recover as you took tentative steps towards him, taking all of him in sight. He was wearing only his white undershirt, slacks still covered by dirt and grime. His hair was a mess and his eyes were bloodshot.

“I…” His voice called out to you, a soft whisper of awe and wonder. He was still yet to recover from surprise when you came barreling against him, knocking him down the carpeted floor. Tears flowed down your cheeks uncontrollably as you buried your face against his chest.

“I thought you were gone…” You whispered, voice in clear agony. Desperate and mad at the same time.

“I… I’m sorry…” He choked out as he moved to envelope your frame in his arms while you lay on top of him. “I… went to make sure… that Gaius will never return.”

You can feel the warmth of his embrace as you savored the touch you’ve longed for earlier. But then, when you were about to say something, you coughed and choked out blood. His eyes widened with alarm and flabbergasting abruptness as he moved to straighten you up. You continued to cough badly, the taste of metal taking over. You locked eyes with him for a moment before you felt your consciousness slowly fading, the familiar pang of extreme pain radiating in your system.

You looked down and watched at how fresh batch of blood appeared and the familiar sword of Jax piercing you to the hilt. Your gaze slowly traveled to Adrian who looked aghast at the scene unfolding before him.

He screamed your name in unbelievable agony before you fell limply in his arms.

Then Adrian woke up.

“What’s wrong?” Kamilah’s voice echoed around the empty room filled with brick walls as she slowly sauntered towards Adrian, offering him a bottled water. “Drink, brother.”

Adrian gasped in air as he ran a hand on his face. Unable to shake the foreboding feeling of doom in his physique. He sat up straight and grabbed the bottle from Kamilah before glancing a look at his watch.

“I had… a nightmare.” He said, unsure now to be wary or ignore the dream. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath before calming himself down.

Kamilah moved to sit down beside him as she tilted her head to the sarcophagus just a few inches away from where they were. “Lily and Jax are asleep. You should get some rest.”

“Where do we go from here?” Adrian’s eyes locked gazes with Kamilah as she offered him a sympathetic one.

“We figure it out. One circumstance at a time.”

Adrian let out a sigh as he leaned against the wall, his body spent with worry and exhaustion. “A few more hours, then.”

“Yeah. A few more hours.”

[shadowphoenixrider]

Payback

(This was a thing that sorta happened in an impromptu RP I had with @walkingdisasterofamage​, and I liked it so much I made it canon for these two idiots. This prompt was the perfect excuse to write it up! As always, tagging the interested parties: @galleywinter​, @elfgirl931​, @fer8girl​, @wingslovesfiction​, @sigurdjarlson​ . It’s a lemon, so not to be read at work.)

27 - When no-one was watching

Khadgar had made a terrible mistake.

Attending the Kirin Tor Tavern Crawl had started out as an excellent idea; it allowed everyone to let their hair down and forget about the Burning Legion, and it gave him a very good excuse to spend time with Draggka in public, under the guise of ‘socialising’, safe in the knowledge that any rumours that might grow could easily be explained away by inebriation.

Emboldened by this and maybe a little too much ale, the archmage had cast a spell around them that would, to a casual eavesdropper, sound like they were talking about mundane things. Like the weather, the technical properties of bread, among others. Little would they know the actual content of the conversation, which was far less innocent and more titillating.

So Khadgar had spent the night drinking and murmuring filthy innuendos and compliments into Draggka’s ears, with no-one else being any the wiser. To say it was ‘thrilling’ was an understatement, and the hunter’s reactions to his seductions only egged him on - she blushed and shifted in the ‘uncomfortable but pleasantly so’ way, having to control her emotions so the contrast between her expression and his illusion didn’t make people suspicious.

Foolishly, he hadn’t thought any further than to wind his lover up with suggestive whispering, and then maybe they’d stumble back home and do the sideways samba. Embarrassingly, he’d forgotten she was a hunter, a profession known for their patience.

And traps.

When the last call went out, Draggka threw back the dregs of amber liquid in her glass, before her hand came down his arm, holding it firm to the table.

“Finish dat drink,” she said sternly. “It be ya last.”

Khadgar’s eyebrows rose, but he hid his surprise behind his smile.

“Oh? Are we calling it a night, Huntmaster?” He asked.

“We are.” The troll turned her head slightly, pinning the mage with a predatory look. “Ya be paying for ya teasing.”

“Will I now? I look forward to it.” Khadgar was still smug in the effect he’d had over her, and couldn’t help but stoke the fire by taking his sweet time to finish his ale. He could feel the hunter’s stare pierce through him, but she didn’t hurry him. Her honour was strong enough that she would spontaneously combust with need before she would ever harry him.

By the time Khadgar had finished and paid their tab, most people were stumbling through the portals to the next pub, so no-one noticed as they slipped away into the dark Dalaran streets.

The mage instinctively turned to begin to walk back to the Citadel, but Draggka had other ideas.

“Wit me,” she ordered, tugging at his arm, and his feet were following her before his brain had time to process what was happening.

“What? Draggka, I thought-” He began, only to be quickly silenced when the troll whipped around, her face for a moment mere centimetres from his.

“Ya gonna pay for ya teasing, Archmage.” The way she stressed his title made heat spark brightly in his nether regions. “I not gonna wait any longer for ya.”

All his prior bravado had fled, now he felt the tables had turned on him.

“B-But Draggka, w-we’re in public!” He squeaked, even as he kept following her through the empty streets.

“We be less so in a minute.” She gave him a shark-like grin over her shoulder. “‘Sides, I thought ya like dat kind of ting.”

Khadgar turned bright red, and any rebuttals he tried to stutter out died on arrival. Damnit. She knows me too well.

Unable to protest, he followed the hunter to one of Dalaran’s banks, behind which the troll pulled him into the darkness.

“Draggka,” he whispered, resisting the urge to conjure some light. “What, what if someone sees us?”

“Dey not gonna see us here.” She purred in his ear. “Spike be letting us know if someone be gettin’ close.”

The archmage belatedly remembered that her animal companion existed, and he briefly glimpsed the raptor take up position in the shadows, his back turned towards them.

He swallowed hard. Light above, what have I gotten myself into?

It was difficult to complain, however, when he was pinned up against a wall by a very amorous troll, where they might just be caught in the act - his body was indeed very happy about how things were turning out.

“Ya gonna be quiet, aren’t ya?” Draggka purred softly, stepping closer. Her amber eyes glinted in the low light, hungry. “If not, I’m gonna have to gag ya.”

“Gag me?” The mage quickly flashed his eyes down to the hunter’s belt, eyeing the numerous pouches there on even a casual outing. “Y-You, you’re carrying-”

“Nothing like dat.” For a moment, her smile was soft. “But I always like to be prepared. Wit...other tings...” She shifted closer still, Khadgar having to rest his head back against the brick behind him. “Anyway. Ya tink ya can be keeping quiet? Or do ya tink ya need help?”

Khadgar swallowed hard, trying to stop all of his blood from rushing to his other head as he imagined what the scene would look like if someone stumbled upon it.

“I...I think I’ll be alright,” he said. “But...keep it ready. Just in case.”

“Of course.” Draggka gave a quick nod, before closed the gap between them, sliding a leg between his own. “So, Archmage. Is dis what ya wanted from me?”

He chuckled nervously, even as his heartbeat quickened.

“O-Oh well, I was expecting we’d at least get home to do this, but- ah heh. It seems I might have a tad underestimated the effects my teasing has had on you.” He grinned weakly.

Draggka arched an eyebrow, smirking as she lifted her leg up, Khadgar uttering a shuddery breath as her thigh connected to his hardening length.

“Shoulda thought of dat before ya started teasing me, den.” She purred, capturing his lips in hers, deepening the kiss almost immediately. He was only too happy to reciprocate, letting his hitches of breath be swallowed by her.

It didn’t last long, however, as Draggka moved from his mouth to kiss along his neck, the mage lifting his chin up to let her do her work. Her mouth was gentle whilst her tusks were not, though she took great care that when they scraped over his skin, they only elicited that paradoxical pain-pleasure that made him shiver with delight.

“Draggka...” He sighed, all thoughts of discovery dispersed in the still wind. He felt her grin against his skin.

“Shh, Archmage. Don’t want dem to find us before I be finished with ya.” Her whisper made another delightful shiver run up his spine - eager as he might have been to know her next move, he didn’t ask further.

Luckily, he didn’t have long to wait. After thoroughly antiquating herself with his neck, Draggka grinned against his skin. Then she dropped down. Bereft of warm contact in the brief moment, Khadgar opened his eyes, blinking with confusion when at first he didn’t see her. Then he glanced down at his feet.

The troll grinned up at him from her position on the floor, before proceeding to duck under his robe skirt and begin to untie the laces on his trousers. Despite everything that had occurred, the wizard choked, grabbing at the bulge her head made in his robe.

“D-Draggka!” He hissed, awkwardly patting her head as he felt her still pulling at his laces. “A-Are you serious? H, here?!”

She peeked out from under his clothing with an infuriatingly coy look.

“I be needing a proper taste of ya, Archmage.” A slight tilt of her head. “Still tink ya can hold your tongue?”

Light above, are we really going to do this? Khadgar thought to himself first. He, the Leader of the Kirin Tor, getting sucked off behind one of Dalaran’s banks on a dark night by the Huntmaster of the Unseen Path, who just so happened to be a troll. It was ridiculous, foolish to the nth degree and utterly, completely dangerous - but shamefully he found he liked it.

I think I may have been outmatched. Light preserve me.

“I...I think so.” He nodded, ignoring the smirk that curled her lips. “I’ll do my best.”

“Alright, if ya tink so.” She arched an eyebrow. “I not gonna be takin’ chances though if ya start.”

“Okay,” he said, as she ducked back under his robes and resumed with fiddling with his trouser laces. Khadgar leant his head back against the wall, trying to accept the fact that yes, this was really happening, and that yes, if he couldn’t keep his mouth shut he was going to be gagged.

Well, this can hardly be worse than what Ansirem was caught doing.

Khadgar’s breath hitched as the troll’s calloused hand wrapped around his shaft, her other going lower to gently fondle him, speeding his heartbeat and making his toes curl.

“Ya alright?” Draggka asked.

He nodded, before remembering she couldn’t see him.

“Y, yes. I’m okay. Just...be gentle.”

Draggka hummed back what sounded like an affirmative, but Khadgar didn’t have time to really consider it before her mouth was on him, booting out all his thoughts in one swift kick.

His reckless teasing had granted him one blessing; the troll was wound up enough that she didn’t return the favour. True to his request, she was gentle take enough time that Khadgar could keep his mouth firmly shut, reducing any moans to pleasured, sharp breaths.

It was easy to get caught up in the feelings, holding onto just enough thought to keep himself quiet and not buck his hips into Draggka’s face, and Khadgar found that this was very enjoyable indeed. And perhaps worth winding up his troll lover, especially if she was going to do things this exciting to him.

It didn’t take long for his end to come, and Khadgar shoved his fist into his mouth as he orgasmed, muffling his moan and preventing him from casting anything that would attract attention. He was silently thankful for the wall he leant against, as his knees had decided to become the consistency of jelly in the wake of the afterglow.

Draggka tucked him away and relaced his trousers, scooting out from under him with a feral grin.

“Enjoy dat, Archmage?” She asked him, grinning widely.

He chuckled weakly.

“Y...Yes, I did. Though you’ll forgive me if I don’t ask you for a repeat performance for a while yet.”

“Dat be a shame.” Draggka replied. “I got even more plans for ya when we be getting back to our room.” She tugged a little on his belt, though not enough to dislodge him from propping-up wall. It stir interest below it, however.

“More?” Khadgar’s brows rose up almost to his hairline, before he groaned. “Oh no. You’re not enraged and in heat, are you?”

She giggled, her seductive façade breaking for a moment.

“No. Not enraged, an’ only in heat for you,” she said, and there was plain, warm affection in her eyes. “Dis were just a taster. I were tinking of havin’ some more Trust in me.”

The Archmage rolled his eyes.

“I should never have let Medivh tell you want my name means.” He pushed himself upright, his knees now reset back into solid forms. “Alright then, Huntmaster. If you are so eager for more of me, I suppose I should oblige.” He grinned slyly, magic beginning to swirl around them. “Let me speed us to our bed.”

Several paces away, Spike snorted loudly, and decided he would make his own way back to the den.

(Link to challenge)