give it a few years and you all shall know his name :)

— ask and you shall receive | pt 1 (m)

pairing— jung hoseok x reader, sugar daddy! hoseok
genre/warnings— smut, lots of oral, slow burn, dirty talk, dom! hoseok
words— 13,865

:: summary— your sugar daddy says you don’t have to sleep with him if you don’t want to…trouble is, you do want to. You’re just nervous and a little inexperienced, but he catches on quick and begins to teach you the true pleasures of sex, and boy, are they good…

 » pt 1 :: pt 2 :: pt 3 :: pt 4

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Bygones of the Sun | 01 (M)

Originally posted by hobismole

Genre: Angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

Pairing: Reader x Hoseok

Length: 10.4k

Summary: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

01 | 02  

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Love Always Wakes the Dragon

(and suddenly flames everywhere)

It could be worse. You do have all the luxuries befitting a princess, though one charged with treason. But a gilded cage is still a cage. And the prospect of withering away in this, the tallest tower of the Palace of Asgard, in the same place where your once-betrothed will live and marry and rule from, it’s almost too much to bear.


author: sugardaddytonystark (formerly buckysbackpackbuckle)
pairing: Thor x Jotun!Reader
word count: 4067
warnings: brat prince Thor, unprotected sex, oral sex, hair pulling, choking

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Dead Girl Walking (Connor Murphy X Reader)

WC: 2066

Warnings: Steamy content (well, the title gives that away)

Summary: Connor and Y/N get cast as JD and Veronica in their college production of Heathers. This doesn’t help the crush Y/N has been harbouring on Connor since freshman year of high school.

Tagged: @lildipstick @bellasabb @ahhhhamilton

A/N: Here it is!! This was partially inspired by some requests I got for this, and partially inspired by my Heathers!AU with @memeing-through-a-window

“Hello everyone! To those of you who do not take drama as a class, I am Mr Reyes. I will be directing this production.” Mr Reyes said, and there was a spattering of applause across the auditorium.

“Now, I’m sure you’re all dying to find out your roles in our upcoming production of Heathers. Here we go.” Mr Reyes said, and everyone inhaled sharply.

I crossed my fingers and looked over at my best friend Zoe, her eyes shut tightly in anticipation.

“In the role of Martha Dunnstock, Alana Beck.” Mr Reyes said and we all clapped politely, looking at Alana who was smiling brightly.

“The role of Kurt Kelly goes to Jake Dillinger, and Ram Sweeney goes to Richard Goranski.” A celebratory whoop came from a few rows back, and I chuckled at the boys’ reaction.

“The roles of Mr Kelly and Mr Sweeney will go to Michael Mell and Jeremy Heere.” I smirked slightly, knowing that Mr Reyes was slightly sneaky with his casting of those roles.

“Mr and Mrs Sawyer will be played by Chloe Valentine and Brooke Lohst.” I clapped softly, glancing over at the pair.

“And now, onto the Heathers themselves. Due to the lack of women interested in this production, we have had to give some of our Heathers to the men.” Mr Reyes said, and I snorted, drawing some attention.

“Heather McNamara will be played by Evan Hansen, and Heather Duke will be played by Jared Kleinman. Heather Chandler, our only female Heather, will be played by Zoe Murphy.” Mr Reyes said, and I squeezed Zoe’s hand.

She was smiling widely, and I knew she was going to crush it as Heather Chandler.

“The lovely Christine Canigula will be playing Ms Fleming.” Christine beamed at Mr Reyes, and I felt very happy for her.

“This leaves our two leading roles. Jason Dean will be played by Connor Murphy, and Veronica Sawyer goes to Y/N Y/L/N! Congratulations to you all.” Mr Reyes said, and I looked over at Connor, my eyes wide.

I’d been crushing on Connor since freshman year of high school, and here we are, freshman year of college, and those feelings haven’t gone away.

“Now, rehearsals will start next Wednesday, so be ready. The original cast recording is somewhere online, so listen to it. That’s all.” Mr Reyes said, ushering us out of the auditorium.

As soon as we were out the double doors, I was bombarded with various congratulations.

“You’re so lucky, oh my god.” Zoe said, wrapping me in a side hug. I felt my cheeks go pink, and I smiled gratefully at her.

“Thanks. I do, however, have to have fake sex with your brother onstage. You know how I feel about him, Zo.” I said and Zoe cackled, throwing her head back.

“Well, let’s just say things might end up working out for you two.” She said, winking at me. My cheeks went a brighter pink, and I went to say something, but was interrupted by someone coughing.

I whirled around to see Connor standing there, his hair partially covering his face.

“Hey Y/N. Can I talk to you for a sec?” Connor asked and I nodded, glancing back briefly at Zoe.

Connor shot me a half smile, and walked away. I trailed behind him, jogging slightly.

“So, what’s up?” I asked, catching my breath a little. Connor rocked back and forth on his heels, and I frowned slightly.

“Well, I was just wondering, seeing as we’re going to be spending a lot of time together onstage and in rehearsals, if maybe you wanted to go grab some lunch with me?” Connor asked, wringing his hands together.

My cheeks went a bright shade of pink, and I nodded eagerly. “Absolutely. I mean, yeah, of course.” I said, realising I was probably coming on too strong.

“Awesome. I’ll, uh, meet you here at 12. Today.” Connor said and I smiled brightly at him.
“Bye Y/N.” He said, and I waved him off.

“Bye Connor.”


“You guys are coming along incredibly. Everyone except Y/N and Connor can go.” Mr Reyes said, and I glanced over at Connor awkwardly.

Everyone else trailed out of the auditorium, until it was just Connor, Mr Reyes and I left.

“Now, I thought you two would appreciate not having everyone else in the room for this next song.” Mr Reyes said and I gulped, looking at Connor with wide eyes.

“I think you two both know which song I’m talking about. We won’t go through the full choreography just yet, but we still need to start rehearsing it.” Mr Reyes said, patting the both of us on the shoulder.

I took in a deep breath and walked up onto the stage, fidgeting with my blazer. I wasn’t in my proper costume, but I was wearing an outfit that resembled my costume.

“From the top, you two.” Mr Reyes said, pressing play on the music. It started playing and I bit my lip.

“The demon queen of high school has decreed it. She says Monday eight am, I’ll be deleted.” I sang, glancing over at Connor briefly.

“They’ll hunt me down in study hall. Stuff and mount me on the wall. Thirty hours to live, how shall I spend them?” I sang, walking forward a little.

“I don’t have to stay and die like cattle. I could change my name and ride up to Seattle. But I don’t own a motorbike.” I looked up at Connor, who was now lying down on the raised platform.

“Wait. Here’s an option that I like. Spend these thirty hours getting freaky! I need it hard, I’m a dead girl walking. I’m in your yard, I’m a dead girl walking.” I sang, walking up the platform stairs.

“Before they punch my clock, I’m snapping off your window lock. Got no time to knock, I’m a dead girl walking.” I sang, standing in front of Connor, who was now on his feet.

“Veronica. What are you doing in my room?” Connor asked, and I shushed him, waving my hand about wildly. Mr Reyes chuckled, and I took in a deep breath.

“Sorry, but I really had to wake you. See, I’ve decided I must ride you till I break you.” Connor’s eyes widened at this line, and Mr Reyes’ laughter increased.

“Heather says I gots to go, you’re my last meal on death row. Shut your mouth, and lose them tightie whities. C'mon!” I sang, undoing my blazer.

“Tonight I’m yours, I’m your dead girl walking. Get on all fours, kiss this dead girl walking.” I said, shoving Connor down by his shoulders.

“Let’s go, you know the drill. I’m hot, and pissed, and on the pill. Bow down to the will of a dead girl walking.” I sang, trying to keep my voice even as Connor’s hands crept up near the hem of my skirt.

I crouched down, looking Connor in the eye. I noticed that one of his eyes was coloured differently, and I felt my heart lurch.

“And you know, you know, you know. It’s cause you’re beautiful. You say you’re numb inside, but I can’t agree.” I sang, putting my hands on Connor’s chest.

His chest was surprisingly firm, and his face was rapidly reddening. “So the world’s unfair. Keep it locked out there. In here it’s beautiful. Let’s make this beautiful.”

“That works for me.” I pressed my lips to Connor’s, and kissed him with fervour. He kissed back eagerly, and I pulled off my blazer, still keeping our lips together.

I pulled off his shirt, and I let out a gasp at the sight of his bare chest. I pulled away from the kiss, and noticed Connor’s eyes cloud with something dark.

I pushed him down so he was on his back, and I was straddling him, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

I started kissing his neck and moved my lips further down his chest, kissing furiously.

“Yeah! Full steam ahead, take this dead girl walking.” I sang, reluctantly pulling away from Connor.

“How’d you find my address?” Connor sang, sitting up slightly.

“Let’s break the bed, rock this dead girl walking!” I sang, throwing my arms up in the air.

“I think we tore my mattress.” Connor sang, glancing towards the ground.

“No sleep tonight for you. Better chug that Mountain Dew.” I sang, getting a good look at Connor. His eyes wide, his cheeks flushed and his hair mused.

“Okay, okay.” He sang quietly, earning a chuckle from Mr Reyes.

“Get your ass in gear. Make this whole town disappear.”

“Okay, okay.” Connor sang, his voice stronger this time.

“Slap me.” Connor stage slapped me at this line, and my cheek tingled at the contact.

“Pull my hair.” Connor tugged my head back by my hair, and tangled his fingers in my hair.

“Touch me there, and there, and there.” My breath hitched as Connor’s hands roamed over my ass and breasts.

“No more talking. Love this dead girl walking.” I sang, hitting the high note with ease. Connor sang his part with ease, and I drank in the sight of him beneath me.

“Love this dead girl! Yeah, yeah, yeah!” We both sang together, our bodies harmonising perfectly.

“Ow!” Connor said, grimacing slightly.

“Yeah!” We both sang, and I was surprised at how well Connor could sing. The music concluded, and we were both panting.

Mr Reyes applauded, and I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. “Very well done, you two! You have excellent chemistry, I must say.” Mr Reyes said, as I awkwardly clambered off Connor.

We picked up our clothes and pulled them back on, smiling as we walked off the stage.

“I’ll see you at Friday’s rehearsal. I can’t stress how good that performance was, especially for a rehearsal.” Mr Reyes said as we left the auditorium.

The doors slammed shut behind us, and the air became thick with awkwardness. “I, uh.” I stammered, my cheeks burning.

“I’ll, um, see you on Friday.” Connor muttered, walking away quickly staring at the ground as he did.


“Opening night, people! I just wanted to congratulate you all on your work over the past couple of months, so, congratulations!” Mr Reyes said, applauding us.

I fidgeted anxiously with my costume, the indigo scarf I was wearing seeming to weigh a ton.

“Hey, Y/N, you ok?” Connor asked, and I turned on my heel to face him. The dark costume of JD suited him perfectly, and I felt seriously attracted to him.

“I’m really nervous. What if I screw up? What if I can’t hit one of the high notes? Ugh.” I said, running a hand through my hair.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Connor said, placing his hands gently on my shoulders. I looked up at him, noticing the stage makeup that accented his already beautiful features.

“You are going to knock this out of the park. Your voice is absolutely stunning, and I have the utmost faith in you and your abilities.” Connor said, moving his hands from my shoulders to my cheeks.

I felt my cheeks flush, and I noticed Connor’s cheeks were a similar colour. “Thanks.” I muttered, looking right into Connor’s eyes.

He rubbed circles on my cheek with his thumb, and I took in a deep breath. I leaned forward and connected my lips with Connor’s.

His eyes widened briefly, but he closed them quickly, kissing back eagerly. I tangled my hands in Connor’s hair, tugging on it gently.

He let out a groan, and he moved his hands to my waist, pulling me closer to him. Suddenly we heard a cough and pulled apart, turning to see where the cough had come from.

We saw Zoe standing there in full costume, a smirk wide on her face. “God, Veronica, drool much?” She said and I snorted, glancing up at Connor.

“It’s not like I’m throwing my panties at him, Heather.” I said, and I noticed Connor freeze momentarily.

“Oh, but you will be soon enough.” Zoe said, winking at the two of us. She walked off with a perfected strut, and I let out a sigh.

“She’s the worst.” Connor muttered and I chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“She’s not that bad, Con.” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“My god, I love you so much.”

Good Morning | A Tom Holland Imagine

Tom Holland x Reader
Words: 2,297
TV: PG-14

The sun slowly rises over the edge of the painted windowsill. His mother thought that the color was far too white when they purchased the house, so now a creamy off-white covers the old wood. It smells a little like rain inside his old room as a breeze flows through the crack in the window. The blankets shift around you, but you’re still sound asleep. It would be easy to let yourself stay away in your dreams, but as a gentle hand rested on your shoulder and rubbed a soft thumb up and down over your skin, you knew that he back of your eyelids were nothing compared to the dream laying right in front of you.

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Party- for Good Boys Only

Pairing: AmazingPhil & Danisnotonfire (Phan)

Genre: Smut, Angst, Daddy!kink

Warnings: Parental Divorce, Sexual Content

Word count: 9000

Summary: Dan and Phil are reluctant stepbrothers soon to be strangers. When Dan’s father decided to marry Phil’s mother, no one could have predicted the marriage ending in flames only a few weeks later. The two boys who avoided each other at all costs during the marriage are brought together one last time before they part ways forever. Phil hates Dan. Dan can’t stand Phil. But what happens when a house party goes terribly wrong and they end up needing each other more than their parents ever did?  

AKA. Angsty teenage Dan, a drunken night no one can remember, mysterious hickies, thigh riding, overstim, sexual tension for days etc… 

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A Good Influence

Ask: Could you do an imagine of what it’d be like to be Jason Todd’s gf and going to thanksgiving dinner at the Manor (Maybe it’s the first time meeting the batfam too?) Please! Congrats again love! @avengerdragoness

A/N: Wowow thank you for the request! It turned out longer then I thought it would but I think it turned out okay. If you have any requests please don’t be shy I need ideas! 

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¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I don’t know what this is, it’s not going anywhere. It was just a thought I had after last night and that delightful little tidbit about Julius. This is entirely predictable, sorry.


It’s not until the third time that Grog goes to the brothel in Whitestone that the Madam who runs the house pulls him aside as he’s leaving.

“I paid up, I know I did,” Grog says immediately. “She counted it out for me and everything.”

The Madam - gray hair but not old enough for it to be anything but just the way most of the adult Whitestone residents are - laughs at him. “You’re fine, lad. You treat my girls right and you pay well. I’m not turning you away. I just had a question for you.”

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A Lion’s Pride - Sebastian Stan x Reader - One Shot

Originally posted by jugheadcami

Originally posted by hard-on-for-hiddleston

A/N - So i’m gonna be using the same family if you like from I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa. So the usual Reader, Seb and Izzy.

Sebastian is really not happy when he see’s Tom trying to make a play at his wife. Little does he know it’s not like that at all. Major smut fest ensures.

Jealous Seb x Reader

Warnings: Smutty smut smut.

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Close to You (M)

You’re pulling our connections expecting me to let you go — but I won’t.

SUMMARY: You had met him when you were seven, but you fell in love with him when you were seventeen. He had been everything you’d hoped a loved one should be; until he left. Now that you’ve reached your twenty-first birthday, you’re thrown into a deal that your parents had made when you were just a kid — and that deal involved marrying the same man who had broken your heart so long ago.

GENRE/WARNINGS: Arranged Marriage!AU, Prince!Yuta — filled with angst, fluff, and smut aka my three favorite things.

WORDS: 24.1k.

A/N: I wrote this idea down in my notes and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since so I decided to bring it to life. I apologize for the excessively long length of this… Once I started writing it I couldn’t stop lmao. But I hope you enjoy it, lovebugs!!!

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Cursed Child rant

Alright, Witches, Wizards, Muggles, and magical creatures big and small, hold onto your broomsticks because I’m about to tell you why I do not like Harry Potter and the Cursed Child nor accept it as canon. 

Spoilers ahead. Obviously. but c’mon who hasn’t read it or been spoiled by now Also, it got super long. 


Let’s start off by saying: it’s been months since I read it. If I get some things off a little, go ahead and tell me; I’ll edit the rant and correct it. If you just don’t agree with me… that’s great for you. Okay? We good? That’s all the disclaimer you’re getting. Moving on! 


Where do I begin? Um… Let’s recap shall we? 

It starts with Albus Severus Potter (who’s name I still cannot get over) meeting and becoming friends with Scorpius Malfoy. 

Okay. Great. We’ve all wanted that for years. No problem. 

We’ve also played with the idea of Albus in Slytherin for years. I have no problem with that either. 

What I do have problems with is the way Albus is treated after he is put in Slytherin. He’s the outcast of his family. He’s the “disappointing son”. After Harry’s canon “the bravest man I knew was Slytherin” speech (don’t get me started on Snape), I expected a bit better treatment of Slytherins. But Albus is Slytherin and looked at sideways by the entire cast, except Scorpius. This could easily become a rant about Slytherin’s and stereotypes and treatment, but I give enough of those already. 

My issues are mostly with Albus’ personality. Now, I didn’t write the character. He’s not mine. I don’t have the authority to tell anyone how he should be. All I can do is have headcanons. But “canon” Albus doesn’t exactly display a lot of Slytherin traits. Sure he sneaks around, but so does Harry, Ron, and Hermione and they’re all Gryffindor. If my memory serves me correctly, Albus goes to Slytherin because he basically thinks, “Well, the Gryffindors I know suck, let’s try Slytherin.”it’s been a while since I read it okay  

Albus is jaded by the time the plot picks up. He doesn’t like flying, isn’t that good at it or Quidditch (which honestly feels like they’re just trying to make him as unlike Harry as possible which I could handle if it wasn’t so badly written), and is basically convinced his life is horrible. (I’ll get into why a little later.) This kid shows no Slytherin traits that I remember. He hardly shows any traits really. I think it was the play format, but Albus becomes a stereotypical teenager who has daddy issues and doesn’t like his life. 

Scorpius I don’t really have a big problem with, besides it going against my personal headcanons. He at least shows a bit more Slytherin traits than jaded Albus. I feel like they were trying to break Slytherin stereotypes with him- which is great and all, but it almost makes me feel like that’s all Scorpius’ personality was. As if he was made to simply disrupt our preconceived ideas of what Slytherin is. I don’t like it. Stereotypes are something I can’t stand, but come on, people, don’t strip my house of what we actually are. 

Okay, moving on from Slytherin. 

Let’s take a step back from the new characters and visit the one’s we already know, we already love. Oh wait, they’ve been ripped to shreds. 

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There is a door in the history department. It never looks the same twice and is always cracked open when it’s actually there. No one has ever returned through it.

There once was a chemistry major that went through the door. Their friend followed after.

One returned.

One did not.

The story did not begin there though. It began long, long ago, in the tales and songs of ancestors long gone; passed from mother to daughter and father to son. They did not fade through time, starting anew in each beating heart of the family line.

They reached a young girl with olive skin and hair like raven’s wings. Her dark eyes would shine as her grandmother wove the tales by the fireside.

She spoke to the girl of a woman with fiery hair and burning eyes, who spoke with flames and held infernos between her palms. Perhaps that sparked the love in her for all things she should not, and she strove to make the embers dance, like the one with fire in her hands.

Her grandmother knew in her old, wise bones that this child needed the tales more than most. Their family had always been aware, trusting their intuition had never led them wrong.

So when the girl came to Elsewhere, (For where else could she have gone?) Everyone steered clear (The school gave up on roommates before very long.)

Perhaps it was because of her reputation of playing with fire, or perhaps it was simply fate, but her chemistry professor paired her with a boy who loved to play with ice. They became unlikely friends, she with her burning salts and he with his liquid nitrogen.

“Call me Pyrra.” she said.

“Frozone.” He grinned, white teeth gleamed against his dark skin.

He told her of his girlfriend back in Louisiana who was pregnant with his child: “It’s too soon to know the gender yet.” And she would just smile.

She told him of her grandparents and their small, simple home that stood alone on the reservation and of the wild horses that would thunder by.

They knew what everyone would say, how unwise it was to share so much about themselves, but they were chemistry majors—those rarely got taken.

The two were closer then blood and they both forgot one very important fact— being Taken isn’t the only way to Vanish.

It had been an accident. Frozone hadn’t been paying attention. He had forgotten to count the doors, as he stumbled to his history class after a long night in the labs. No one probably would have known if a fellow student hadn’t seen him stepping through the door—too late to stop his fate.

Pyrra was the first one told, the RA’s decided to wait till the end of the term before notifying his family. They knew it was a futile hope, but anything beat having to make that call.

Pyrra wouldn’t accept this though. She gathered up her craft, and armed herself with salts to burn. She dressed herself in her tribe’s garments and war paint on her face—there is power in being claimed—and set off for the history building when the moonless night was at its darkest.

The door gave way before her and she crossed into when; not where, her friend had gone. She travelled far until she found where the Little People were gathered round. They vanished as she drew near, but she was unshaken by this or fear.

“I have come to bargain for my brother of heart.”

“What will you give?” They whispered in reply.

“A story like none other.” She called bravely into the night.

“There is no story to match his fate, for his return we will need something great.”

Pyrra paused before standing straight.

“Then I will take his place.”

“Is this your choice?”

She thought of her grandparents, sitting at home, they had only gotten electricity a few years ago.

She thought of Frozone’s sisters, all so young and alone thriving off their brother’s hope to give them a better home, on the income of the degree the scholarship would to them all. She thought about his girlfriend, who worked two jobs by day, and attended a community college to get her art degree by night. With that her mind was made.

“It is.”

Frozone stumbled in, lost and confused as if it had only been an hour instead of a day. He caught onto what had happened more than quick enough.

“Pyrra, you can’t do this! Please! It’s my mistake to pay.”

“Call my grandmother and ask for my name, give it to your daughter and your debt shall be paid.”

That was all the time they had, before he was gone and she had stayed. The Little Folk drew near her now; intent on Their new pet, but she held up her hand, she wasn’t Theirs quite yet.

“I have another bargain to make.”

“What now?” They grumbled, discontent and bored.

“My story for my freedom, I chose to stay, but not to be yours.”

“Fine.” they hissed “But the bargain is this: you must keep us entertained till dawn or to us you will belong.”

What choice was there left for her to make? The sky was at it darkest—the hour before dawn. But how that hour stretched on and on!

She dared not tell her family’s tales, or sing to Them their songs, so she told them what she had, her science close at hand.

She told them how a star was born and how precious gems became; all the while between her hands she wove the tales with flame.

When that never nearing dawn finally broke upon the sky, They praised her skills, and kept their deals; blessing her all the while.

Fire-tongue they called her; Flame-speaker, They would say. They kissed her eyes and painted her lips, dressing her in flame.

She smiled and simply said, “That is not my name.”

For she had a new name now, one that no one could ever Take, now that she had given her old name away.

Frozone made it back and tried to keep his word. He called her grandmother who patiently greeted him and told him Pyrra’s name, only requesting that in return he send her things and bring his daughter by some day. She waved him off when he explained that the baby was still too small to tell, whether it was female or male.

Years passed and soon it was time to graduate. Everyone assumed that Pyrra’s grandparents came for Frozone. No one expected Pyrra to appear and collect her diploma as if she had been there all along. Then again, no one mentioned how her eyes were embers now or how her hair had turned from raven black to crimson—so she very well may have been.

         A few decades later a new student comes—a chemistry major that loves to play with fire. She wears a white smile; which is near blinding against her dark skin. She claims she came to prove that her father paid his debt. She won’t say anymore than that. But sometimes she would leave the dorm shortly before dawn on moonless nights with a string of fireworks in her hands. She would always return the next morning, humming ancient songs as she wrote an email to her father.

         During her time a new tale whispers its way into campus lore.

It’s breathed into the ears of distraught students—those with the courage to try and reclaim the Taken Ones are the only ones to hear the advice.

“Come to the edge of the woods on a moonless night, just before dawn and set off fireworks of every color—then wait.”

The ones who listen return with tales about a woman in smoldering garments, blazing red hair, and glowing embers for eyes who would test their resolve. To those who passed she would gift them with words or song, depending on their need, she might even gift them with her fire.

Regardless of what you get, it is always enough to get them back.

Except no one can remember what it was she gave them. They could never remember the tale itself, just that she gave them one; the songs she granted would dance just beyond memory’s grasp; the image of a mesmerizing flame leaving a ghostly impression inside their eyelids. There was only one thing anyone remembers her saying.

“My name is Story—”

There is a door in the history department. It never looks the same twice and is always cracked open when it is there. No one has ever returned through it.

There once was a chemistry major that went through the door. His friend followed after.

He returned.

She did not.

“—and I create myself.”

A/N: I know the Gentry come off a little strange in this. It’s mostly because Pyrra is Navajo and thus the stories she knows are of the Little People; but at Elsewhere, the Gentry are for the most part from Great Britain, Ireland and thereabouts. I tried to blend these two cultures. I’m not gunna lie, I didn’t do great. I haven’t done much with Navajo mythology in a long while. I feel it came off pretty shoddy in this. I’m not trying to offend (I’m part native American myself). Also, I love Chemistry but I suck at it which is why I didn’t go as into depth as I would have liked. (My grammar sucks too, so apologies there as well.)

[x]

anonymous asked:

prompt, if ur taking them: jaime rides to winterfell and bends the knee to sansa and becomes an honorable advisor, Jon is very jealous. (bonus points if he walks past dany who thinks he's bending the knee to her instead of sansa)

Jon x Sansa, Jaime & Sansa

The wind bit into him, whipping at his cloak, but Sansa stood at the battlement’s edge as if they faced only a summer snow. Her hair lifted and fluttered about, even slapping against him once or twice. Jon fought the temptation to wrap it around his fist and pull her to him.

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The One Who Holds Your Heart » Prince Adam

Request: Can u do a pre-cursed imagine of the reader and prince Adam? I don’t really have a plot I just love pre-cursed Adam:)))

Pairing: Prince Adam x Reader

Fandom: Disney + Beauty and the Beast

Words: 1770

Summary: Adam is in love with you despite you being a maid.

A/N: Okay, so I really want to write a part two to this story and I will! [Name] won’t remember Adam and we’ll go on from there. Anyways, I hope you guys like this!

Part Two: The One Who Breaks The Curse

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5

Ivar x Reader x Hvitserk


“She is taking advantage of you Ivar.” Ubbe said as Ivar refused to listen to his brothers.

“She is not, I would not let her.” Ivar grumbled as he swirled his drink.


“And yet you look after her child and know nothing about where she hurries off to.” Sigurd pointed out with a smirk. “What sort of friend does that when it is so clear how you feel about her.”

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I Saw Her First (Steve Rogers/Clark Kent x reader)

Many superheroes preferred to keep their true lives a secret from the people they protected, but they didn’t mind if they knew each other’s identities; it was almost like a secret club with a code of honored exclusivity.  It was unheard of to out a fellow member, so in an effort to keep the temptation away, Tony threw an annual party at the tower with the hottest ticket in New York that no civilian would ever get their hands on.  It was a party where heroes were free to be themselves; their true selves without the masks and capes, usually drawing in a few new members with each year as the superhero community continued to grow. It was growing so fast, in fact, that after only a few parties, the word of the event had spread like wildfire. Universes began to collide, and heroes who would have never known the other existed formed welcome friendships.

That’s how Superman and Captain America became the mischievous troublemakers of the superhero world.  With a common proclivity for stress relief through humor, the new duo spent nearly as much time plotting their next move as they did saving the world.

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DRAMA! MORE DRAMA, I say! Lol, because there isn’t enough drama on those fics, right?

Breaking up and bumping to each other months later


Zen

  • You felt like the only way to know things about him was through the tabloids
  • He was so caught up in work you were living basically a manager-client relationship rather than soon to be engaged.
  • So you quit your role as his manager, and as his girlfriend.
  • Zen wanted to make you think this through and convince you to give him a second chance, but… the new manager that the actors’ agency assigned him booked him for a several gigs out of the country.
  •  So yeah… he just got the whole point of it and realized you might be right, unfortunately.
  • But he kept hearing about you, yeah, you were blooming as a manager for several artists in the country and he was so proud.
  • So as a good manager, you were attending at the wedding of this TV star you were working for.
  • You stayed for the party, but your plan was to stay just a little and then get out. Seeing the happy couple made you think that it could be you and Zen…
  • “Would you give me the honor of this dance?” you heard a familiar voice whispering in your ear and shivered. After all those months, your body reacted to the very same way when he was around.
  • “Hyun….? Zen… what are you doing here?” “I got invited too, I worked with her at a musical a few years ago.” “I see…how are you?” “Feeling a little pathetic for attending a wedding by myself, to be honest.” “Tell me about it.”
  • “I could, or I could dance with you and then we won’t be two alone people at a wedding.” “Then what would we be?”
  • “A couple trying to start over. So… shall we?” you looked at his hand, then at the beautiful smile you’ve been missing so much… and stood up. “We shall.”

Yoosung

  • His insecurities turned him into a jealous grumpy dick
  • You couldn’t stand all his tantrums everytime you were friendly with Zen or even with his best friend Seven.
  • So you left, saying you were doing this because you loved him and you couldn’t help but think it was your fault he was turning into something so destructive.
  • He cried, begged for you to stay and give him a second chance, he would even apologize to Zen and Seven, just like he said he would do and never did all the times you fought.
  • He was becoming destructive, wasn’t he? Yeah, he would never forgive himself if he ever hurt you. And he wouldn’t if you stay away.
  • The first two months were hell, and it was so hard not to call you or even go to the same places you usually go just so he would pretend to bump into you, because that would be exactly one of the reasons why you left him.
  • But life goes on. He started dedicating more to college and a few weeks later, even going out with his colleagues.
  • That night, he went out with Seven and Zen to a karaoke bar, he wasn’t going to sing and felt it was kinda lame to go there, but Zen and Seven coaxed him into going.
  • And he wanted to kill them when he spotted you walking into the bar with some girlfriends. But… it was so good to see you.
  • “That’s your chance, dude! Show her how much you’ve changed!” Zen encouraged him. “Yeah, dude! It’s showtime!” Seven beamed and started a chant “Go, Yoosung, go!” quickly, all the bar was singing “Go, Yoosung, go!” the whole bar, including you.
  • So he went to the stage. “I… uhm… dedicate this song to a very special lady I… love very much. I also dedicate to my good friends who helped me changing to be a better man for her.”
  • Then it was his time to start a chant of “Go, MC, go!” trying to convince you to sing a duet with him. And so you went. You also went to his place that night.

Jaehee

  • Honestly, sometimes you would even doubt you were on a relationship
  • You could see you were business partners and roommates, but lovers? It didn’t look like.
  • You realized that after telling her you should split the relationship and the partnership up, and the only thing she asked you was “What about the café?”
  • It would be fine without you, she would be fine without you.
  • You were half right, the café was fine after a few months, she wasn’t.
  • But the fear of being rejected kept her refraining from trying to contact you. She overcame so much before, she can overcome a break up… right?
  • You were at Starbucks with a friend, the place brought you some nostalgia when you remembered you would come here with her and make a very weird name up for them to write and call you.
  • You smiled, it was the first smile you let out that it didn’t feel fake for months.
  • So you decided to play this little game once more.
  •  “Miss Piggy!” the barista calls, and you mindlessly reach for your cup, only to feel another hand holding it.
  • You look to find her staring at you. “J-Jaehee, hi!” “You must be mistaking me from someone else, I’m Miss Piggy, see?” you both chuckle, and just by that simple phrase you notice a glimpse of the playful sweet Jaehee you fell in love with.
  • “Ah yes… I’m sorry, Miss Piggy.” She laughs, ahh, you missed that laugh… “Can I make it up to you with a Muppets movie marathon at my place?”

Jumin

  • You tried to be patient, but he could be… pushy.
  • He wanted you to move in with him, you weren’t exactly comfortable with the idea yet, so he would get passive aggressive and make you feel bad, even when you knew you were right for not rushing things.
  • You loved him, so it hurt to give him an ultimatum, and it hurt even more when he ignored it, saying he wasn’t going to stop taking this relationship seriously.
  • So you left, because you clearly had different points of view on what “taking seriously” means.
  • He pretended he was fine, and he was pretty convincing, Years of pretending everything is fine made him an expert.
  • But he wasn’t, and Elizabeth was dealing with a very clingy owner for the last few months.
  • Being a cat mom, he knew cats demand their own space, but he was so afraid of losing her like he lost you…
  • Being a cat, she didn’t know any of this, so running away was her first instinct. He was desperate when noticed she was gone, this was too much, he lost the loves of his life and he was the one to blame!
  • Jumin was freaking out when he got a call from you. “Jumin… why is Elizabeth standin at my door?”
  • Ah yes… your apartment, the one you didn’t want to move out from not even after he insisted a lot  and made a whole scene, questioning you if you weren’t taking the engagement seriously. God… he was acting so pushy, right? “It seems like she remembered the way. She likes in here.” “Well, yeah, it’s a nice place.”
  •  “Of course it is, you live in here, I would run to where you are at anytime like she did.” Was this… an apology on Jumin Han style? “Well, yeah, so… why don’t you come in?”

Saeyoung

  • Guess what? He started pushing you away again.
  • His brother was having episodes, he was feeling guilty and taking it out on you, just like he promised he wouldn’t do ever again.
  • And you wanted to stay and help, but what do you do when someone doesn’t want your help? Worse, when someone calls your attempts of helping “useless”?
  • Since it was useless, he wouldn’t miss you.
  • And he pretended he wasn’t, but even his brother noticed how the atmosphere in the bunker was way less lighter without you around.
  • Saeran was missing the brother he got used to see when he was with you, and Saeyoung was desperately missing you.
  • But how many times will you guys do this? No, at one point you’ll get tired of taking him back, so… he’ll save the trouble and not look for you, because he knows you will forgive him. And he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, he doesn’t deserve you.
  • Time has passed, Saeran got a little better and could stay alone in the house while Saeyoung would take his babies on a drive. He was basically obsessed over the babies ever since… you know.
  • He was so distracted, thinking about… you know, when he felt a crash, he hit on somebody’s car. “Shit! I’m sorry, I…” “Saeyoung?” you asked when he got out of the car. Oh… he hit your car.
  • “I called the tow truck, they will take some time to come.” He explained after talking on the phone. “Ahh, great! Like this day couldn’t be any more perfect!” you groaned in sarcasm.
  • “Why? What happened?” he asks, you scoff “Like if you cared.” He grabs your hand and looks at you “I care so much about you you wouldn’t even imagine.” So you guys start talking, you vent, then he vents and opens up, like you always wanted him to.
  • “So is your brother better now? Are you sure it’s fine to leave him alone?” “I texted him I was going to get late and that I met you, he replied: ‘Go for it or I’ll punch you’ so… yep, he’s fine.” Well, you’ll go for it you definitely don’t want him to get punched…
magic hands [wade wilson]

wade needs a bath. you’re a good friend.

tagging: @redgillan, @mattymattymerduck, @avengerofyourheart, @wakandasoldier, @darlingbuchanan, @bemystucky, @idorkish, @iwillbeinmynest, @aubzylynn, @angryschnauzer, @almondbuttercup, @ipaintmelodies

warnings: nudity, injury, also wade’s filthy mouth

additional notes: when is wade going to wife me already i love this trope so much, you have no idea. in this one the reader (gender-neutral) is a mutant mercenary who goes by the name “blueswift,” and your mutation is similar to a super soldier’s but not quite as potent. enjoy! and please let me know what you think UvU i love hearing from you guys. also: can y’all tell i really want omurice rn? i love writing about food.

You’d done it. You’d made the omurice, you were proud of the omurice, and you were going to eat the omurice like it was ambrosia from the heavens. You were sitting down at your little kitchen table, chopsticks in hand, ready to devour the warm, ricey gooeyness, when your phone rang, and the all-too-familiar saxophone solo of “Careless Whisper” filled the air. You answered the call, putting it on speaker so you could listen and eat. “Wade?”

“Y/N! The light of my life! God, it’s great to hear your voice. What’s cookin’, good-lookin’?”

“Eating breakfast actually,” you said around a mouthful of fried, eggy rice. “How’s your bod?”

“Well, at the moment, the bones are still soft, so I’m just one big, floppy man noodle.” There was a pause. “You know what, that was a terrible choice of words but I’m sticking to it. I’m a big, floppy man noodle who needs your help.”

You swallowed, smiling to yourself. “How so?”

“Well, this big, floppy man noodle would like to bathe—he’s been lying in his own filth for a good day or so—so he was hoping you could come over and help his big noodly ass into the tub.”

You sighed. Wade had survived his most recent solo job with nearly every bone in his body crushed. You’d somehow managed to drag his limp body back to his place, giving him as much morphine as he could handle. If he was in pain now, his voice didn’t let it on. “Do you need me to bathe you, too?” you asked, only half-joking. When he’d lost both arms in a fight last year, you’d had to wash him, but he’d agreed to cover his junk back then. He was even friendlier nowadays, and you didn’t know what he might ask next.

“Eh, I think a good soak alone would be good for me,” he drawled. “My arms are healing. It’s just the legs that need to catch up. I tried getting up and felt like Bambi. A big, naked, mutant Bambi.”

You frowned, setting your utensils down on the table. “Wade, I really don’t need that image in—”

“Like a scarred, fucked-up baby horse.”

Thank you, Wade,” you hissed, covering your eyes as if that would rid the disturbing images he’d managed to conjure in your mind with just his words.

“So you’ll come?”

You rubbed your face in exasperation. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”


You ended up finishing your omurice while you walked to Wade’s place. Coincidentally, he lived just a few blocks away from you. You refused to wear anything fancier than a hoodie and some sweatpants, shuffling along in your socks and sandal slippers while you ate your omurice out of a bowl, mentally preparing yourself for the sight of a very vulnerable, very naked Wade Wilson.

Like Wade, you were also a mercenary, and while you matched him, probably even surpassed him, in fighting skills, his healing abilities vastly outperformed your own. Sure, you were a “super soldier” of sorts, modified with a less impressive form of the serum. Though it paled in comparison to the valiant and unquestionably attractive Captain America (whom you’d met on one very fortunate occasion), you rarely got sick, and if you broke an arm, it healed in half of the time. But you weren’t like Wade; if you were shot in the abdomen, the internal bleeding would kill you, and if you lost a limb, it would never grow back.

You met Wade when the two of you were accidentally assigned to the same target, and your bickering almost cost both of you a hefty payment. You ended up splitting the cash down the middle—and working together to take out the guy who’d done your mutual client wrong. Your wit, skill, and indifference to his physical appearance won Wade over. Now, here you were, Deadpool and Blueswift, teaming up more often than not and raking in buttloads of cash between the two of you. You considered Wade a friend, possibly even more, what with how you’d grown to care for him over the years. You couldn’t be sure how much of Wade’s flirtations were founded in truth, or whether he craved your physical affection because he hadn’t been touched in years or because it was your touch that he preferred above all else.

Still, you were a good friend, and you were going to help your friend into the bathtub.

You entered Wade’s place with the spare key he’d given you and headed straight for his bedroom, placing the empty bowl of omurice on his kitchen counter. You could smell him before you saw him, sprawled out on his bed, thankfully still covered with his sheets. He had his head propped up on a pillow, and he smiled when he saw you.

“Hey! You made it. Boy, am I glad to see you. I’d hug you but I also smell like a foot.”

You went to his bedside and leaned over to kiss the crown of his head. “You’re looking better than the last time I saw you. A little less noodly.”

“A little. Shall we begin?”

You shucked off your hoodie, leaving you in a plain T-shirt, and slipped off your sandal slippers, tossing both of them onto his bed. “Let me know if I hurt you,” you told him. “Do you want to remove the sheets or should I?” Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment.

“Oh, dear, I never meant for it to be this way,” he lamented dramatically, “but I guess now will have to do.” He threw back the covers, and you kept your eyes on his face. “Voilà. Here’s the rest of me, sweetness. Not bad, right? I grew it all myself. Multiple times over.”

“Very impressive.” Carefully, you took both of his legs by the ankles and swung them over the side of the bed, pulling him into a sitting position. You put his arm around your shoulders and helped him onto his feet. He stood for about two seconds, his legs buckling instantly. You dared a glance at them and wrinkled your nose at how rubbery his legs seemed, how they curved under him at unnatural angles. It took you several moments to regain your balance, fighting to keep him upright and to make sure you didn’t tumble to the floor with him. “Everything okay?” you asked him once you were sure he wouldn’t fall.

“Peachy,” he grunted. “How are you?”

“Dandy. Could you cover your dick with your other arm?”

“Oh, I can try but I don’t know how much that’ll do if ya catch my drift,” he said with a smirk. You sent him a scowl that could have frozen the fires of hell, and he sobered up. “Yeah, sure, I can do that.” He moved his hand between his leg and cupped himself discreetly. “Better?”

“I’m not going to check. Let’s go.”

With little help from his end, you managed to drag him from the bedroom to his bathroom across the hall. His legs trailed limply behind him, and he did smell rancid, like he’d told you. “Wade, you could have stayed at my place,” you said, setting him down on the toilet seat. You weren’t used to seeing so much of his pink, scarred skin, but it was the nudity alone and not the disfigurement that set your cheeks on fire. His legs were long and well muscled, just like the rest of them. You sat on the edge of the bathtub and turned on the water.

“Pfft. No way!” Wade said, waving his free hand dismissively. “I don’t want to be a bother. I do miss your couch, though.”

“My couch misses you.” You tested the water with your hand. It was practically boiling already. “How do you like your baths?”

“Bubbly. And warm. Just like my bestie!” You glanced over to see him batting his eyelashes at you. “That means you,” he stage-whispered.

“I’m not…bubbly? I’m not bubbly.” You added a bit of cold water until the temperature seemed just right. “Do you have soap for bubbles, then?”

He deftly opened the drawer to his right, procured a bottle of bath gel, and tossed it to you. You studied the bottle in your hands. “‘French Vanilla,’ huh?” you mused aloud. “I took you for more of the ‘Raspberry Sorbet’ type.” You twisted the cap off and added some directly to the water pouring in from the spout.

“I prefer ‘Flirty Girl,’ actually. Remember that. I’ll want some more for Christmas.”

You nodded absently, watching the foamy water fill the tub. “Do you even fit in this thing?”

“That’s what she said, and yes, I do, actually. If I sit up a little, it should be fine, even if I have legs for days.” He tried lifting one leg to punctuate his words but it did little more than twitch pitifully. “Dammit.”

“Okay, this should be enough.” You turned off the water and stood. “Ready?”

Wade extended both arms to you, and you fought not to look anywhere further than his chest. “Take me away.”

You opted for scooping him up like a child, but too late you realized that he was heavier than you could carry, and he dropped unceremoniously into the tub, splashing you and much of the bathroom with water.

He was submerged for half a second before he came up spluttering, grabbing the sides of the tub to hold himself up. “Son of a—Y/N! I trusted you!”

“I’m sorry! I thought I could carry you!” You hiked up your sweats to your knees and knelt down next to him. “Are you okay?”

“Well, aside from falling right on my ass cheek, I’d say I’m okay.” He reached over and poured some more “French Vanilla” into his palm. “We need to start getting you lifting again. What good are you if you can’t carry me?” He rubbed the soap over his head, his neck, his shoulders. You didn’t know if you should look away or not, but the way the sinews in his arms and back undulated as he moved was captivating. You never forgot about how built Wade was—his suit didn’t leave much to the imagination—but his form never failed to leave you warm and inarticulate.

You rested your elbows on the lip of the tub, observing him guiltily. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled again.

He looked over at you, his eyes softening when he saw how regretful you looked. “If you wash my back, I’ll forgive you.”

You shrugged; you were already soaked from when you dropped him. The least you could do was help him out. You stood and moved to sit on the tiled ledge behind his head, pushing his toiletries to the side. You put your hands on your shoulders, massaging the shower gel into his skin. He loosed a content sigh and you smiled. “That good?”

“Fuck me, your hands are magic.” You chuckled, and he glanced at you over his shoulder. “No, seriously, fuck me. With those magic hands.”

“No.”

“Some day?”

You cleared your throat, blushing furiously. “Maybe some day,” you said. Fuck it. “Maybe once you’re all healed up. I’m not fucking a noodle man.”

Wade went rigid. You doubted he’d expected you to reciprocate, and yet here you were, flirting with him unlike you ever had before. “Well, this noodle man will get better all on his own just for you. His little noodle, on the other hand—”

“Nope.”

“Another time, then?”

You leaned forward and planted a kiss on his bald, soapy head. “Another time.”

“1940″ Chapter Two

(banner credit: @tiostyles​)

The one where you fall in love with a soldier named Alex.

Read Chapter One here

Swing, Baby!

April 1938

London, England

There was a childlike innocence about you when Alex first led the two of you inside – it took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lights and your feet stopped just shy of the threshold. Eyes wide and lips parted just so, you took in the scene in front of you. Girls with big skirts twirled around on the dance floor, partners close in tow. The bass plucked out a steady beat you could feel thumping in your chest. Shouts and laughter were cascading throughout the room and there was a rather indescribable energy about the place.

Alex thumbed over your hand he’d so carefully held in his the entire walk here.

“Shall we?” he asked with a grin.

You eagerly nodded your head, causing Alex to chuckle beside you. The band strung out the last few notes of a song, and he led you to the edge of the dance floor, waiting for those exiting to walk off and take their spot. The dance floor was easily a few degrees warmer than the rest of the building, but with all of the energy and laughter, how could it not?

A man with a pinstripe suit walked over to the microphone on the band’s platform.

“Is everyone enjoying themselves?” he called out.

A roar of cheers and yells from the crowd of dancers answered him, and he signaled to the band to start again. The bass started up again, and with the wail of a trumpet, the people around you began to move.

“I might be a little rusty,” you spoke over the music, “It’s been quite a –,”

“I’ve got yeh, love,” Alex winked at you, “Gentlemen are supposed t’lead, remember?”

Before you could rattle off another response, he grabbed your hand and spun you, starting the momentum that would carry the pair of you through the dance. While it had been at least a year or so since you’d danced with a partner to this caliber, it very quickly came back to you.

Alex knew his steps as well, making it much easier to get into a rhythm. His hand held yours tightly as he twirled you, dipped you back, and sometimes when the music swelled just right, picked you up and spun you in the air. Laughs cried out from your mouth with no sign of stopping any time soon. The very nature of swing dancing is energetic and quick, allowing for little communication. Alex would whisper the names of the steps coming up next in your ear as you passed by, trusting he’d be there to catch you when you prepared to turn a new way.

You liked the way he felt strong around your waist, making sure you knew he was there to guide you. He was your anchor, and you were there to be shown off.

The two of you danced through many songs and were left breathless by the amount of energy you’d put out. As the night went on, the pairs dwindled down to only a few, including Alex and yourself.

It must have been nearing ten o’clock, as Alex kept glancing down at his wristwatch.

“One more dance, yeah?” he moved to your side and spoke into your ear over the chatter in the room, “Can’t have yeh home late, your pops would hang me!”

You turned to him, a fake pout on your lips, “I guess so,” you said reluctantly, being a bit dramatic in your tone. But, truth be told, you didn’t want to mind the curfew set in place. You didn’t want to leave Alex. This was the most free you’d felt in ages.

“Aw petal, don’t gimme tha’ look,” he bantered back, “Where’d my firecracker go?”

The band abruptly counted off another song, and you took your place – hands together with Alex, facing him and waiting for the right beat to start. He gave you a cheeky grin before sending you backward in a turn and quickly catching you back in his arms. Your laughs sounded like bells as the two of you twirled around each other and you knew you’d be sore in the morning, as your legs already felt wobbly.

The last note rang out and cheers erupted from the crowd and Alex looked down at his wrist once again. The fact that he was continuously checking warmed your heart just a bit – his cocky and boastful attitude was really just something of a cover. He really cared that he made a good impression on your father.

“C’mon, m’lady,” he took your hand in his and led you (begrudgingly) toward the door. The night air felt refreshing on your cheeks after being so warm.

Alex walked by your side, hand keeping a firm grip on yours. The two of you walked in silence on your way back – it wasn’t uncomfortable though. It felt right.

“I had a really lovely time tonight, Alex,” you broke the silence. His name still made your cheeks blush, and you were very glad it was too dark to notice. He was glad you couldn’t hear the way his heart was all but beating out of his chest.

“I did, too, y/n,” he took a quick glance over at you, biting back a grin as he said your name.

It was like the two of you were school children, not twenty-year-olds, with the way you were acting. Bashful, shy, and sweet.

“I’d love to go again, if you’d like to?” your tongue stumbled over the question, “Say, what time is it anyway?”

“F’course I’d love t’go again,” he laughed, “S’only just after half past nine o’clock.” His voice grew softer, sheepish almost.

“Only half past?” you stopped walking, “Alex! We could still be dancing! We still have –,”

Alex turned to face you and you looked up to meet his eyes, pout on your face authentic this time.
“Jus’ wanted to spend more time talkin’ with yeh, promise,” he said warmly, “Love dancin’ jus’ as much as the next, but yeh can’t learn about a person jus’ by the way they dance.”

“You sneaky crow,” you poked at him, “What do you want to know then, hm?”

Alex chuckled at your seemingly threatening manner, leading you towards a bench near your father’s storefront before continuing. You nervously throw a look over your shoulder to the windows of the shop, relieved when you see that the lights are off, and your family is tucked up in their flat.

“Still have a few minutes, don’t worry,” Alex said reassuringly, “M’keepin’ an eye on the time.”

He was still holding your hand as the two of you sat there, giving it a squeeze every so often to remind you that he was there.

“So, Mr. Alex Mason,” you announced, “What do you want to know?”

“Nothin’ specific, yeh could talk about the moon or a lad yeh saw walkin’ down the street the other day, and I’d be enamored.”

You laughed, “You sure you want to hear about the lads I’ve eyed walking down the road?”

“Need t’know who my competition is, don’t I?”

“Well in that case,” you let the words hang in the air, jokingly.

Alex’s face fell just slightly, “S’there…”

“Oh,” you shook your head, “No, no there’s no one! Heavens, no.”

“Jus’ checkin’, y/n,” he said with a wink, something you’d learned to be one of his everyday mannerisms, along with the way he’d rather precisely rub his nose twice mid-sentence…  

You caught yourself subconsciously staring at Alex. There was a pull between the two of you, its grip tight upon your shoulders. His lips fell silent as he studied over your face, features still prominent even in the dim light of the streetlamp a few feet away. He leaned in a bit closer and you couldn’t help but do the same. A shudder of butterflies ran through your stomach as the space between you became less and less obvious and Alex began to duck his head towards yours.

“Ah, there we are!” a voice you knew all too well called over towards the bench you were on.

Alex immediately backed away, an almost obnoxious amount of space now sat among you,

“F’course,” he whispered, shaking his head. Alex then offered his hand to you, and helped you to stand.

Walking hand in hand, you approached your father, standing expectantly in front of the store. The front light had been turned on, and he stood there with a warm smile on his face. You should have anticipated this happening – he loved hearing about your adventures more than anything, and as the eldest girl, he was a bit protective over you.

“Have a good night?” he asked excitedly, not minding the fact that he’d basically interrupted the date you’d been on.

“Very, you’ve got a lovely daughter, Mr. Hughes,” Alex boasted. You noticed he stood up a little straighter any time he was conversing with your father, and his voice spoke just a smidgen stronger.

“That I do,” your father turned to look at you, “I’ll be upstairs, make sure you lock up once you’ve bid your farewells?”

“Of course, goodnight Father,” you said with a grin, stepping over to give him a quick hug.

“Thank you for taking care of her, lad,” your father nodded toward Alex, reaching out to shake his hand, “Hope t’see you around the store sometime soon.”

That phrase was music to your ears, and you tried your best to hide the look of surprise on your face. You father said his last goodbyes of the night, and walked back inside the store.

Alex took your hands in his again, “Looks like this won’t be the last time yeh see me, hmm love?”

“Rats,” you said with a laugh, “Was hoping my dancing would be enough to drive you off!”

“Stop bein’ ridiculous,” he pursed his lips, furrowing a brow at you, “Would take a lot more than tha’ t’get me t’leave yeh.”

“Good,” you poked him square on the nose, “Like havin’ you around.”

“I quite like havin’ yeh ‘round, too, sweets.”

A quick silence fell over the two of you, and you tossed a look over your shoulder, back to the store where your family was probably waiting anxiously for you to get back to.

“I should go,” you spoke quietly, hands still intertwined with his, “I really did have a lovely time.”

You looked up to meet his vibrantly green eyes, seemingly glowing in the night light.

“I did too,” he unhooked your hands to place one of his on your cheek, caressing it softly. They felt different than when they were pressed into your back or holding you tightly dancing earlier that night – they were more gentle, tender, safe – “I’d very much like t’kiss yeh, but tha’s a bit rushed for the first date, yeh?”

“A gentleman, I see,” you teased him, sincerity glinting in your eyes, “Guess you’ll have to stick around a bit longer for that, hm?”

“Guess I will,” he couldn’t help but grin. You were such a catch.

“Goodnight, Mr. Mason.”

“And goodnight to you too, Miss Hughes.”

You took a small step back, hands falling to your sides. The grin that had been painted on your face for most of the night was still burning into your cheeks. You were confident it would be embedded in your features for days to come. It made your jaw sore, but the joy and happiness you felt was too much to contain.

Alex watched after you, that smirk hanging on his lips. The two of you didn’t exchange any words after that – he simply made sure you made it inside the shop and waiting for the light to turn off before he began his trek home.

***

Once inside the store, you took a moment to properly reflect on the night. There had been so many moments you wanted to be sure to remember forever – the song you first danced to, how it felt to hand his hand on the walk back home, the way he looked at you before you’d been interrupted by your father… You squeezed your eyes shut and willed yourself to commit them to memory. A yawn fell past your lips, and you decided it was a wise choice to retreat back to your room.

Slipping up the stairs as quietly as you could in your heels, you’d hoped to make little conversation with whomever would possibly still be awake this late. Lucky for you, your father had truly gone to bed when he’d left the two of you outside, and you were free to get dressed for bed on your own terms.

Once you’d battled through your now-knotted hair, taken the lipstick from your lips, and changed into your pyjamas, you let yourself fall back into your bed. Smile still perched happily on your face and memories reflecting through your mind, you drifted off peacefully to sleep, dreaming of the next time you’d see him.

It had been, quite possibly, the best night of your life.


Chapter Three to be posted on Sunday at 9 PM EST! 

back to black [m]

Pairing: Reader x Jin

Genre: smut, tattooed!jin, cheating, angst

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I have been listening to a lot of Amy Winehouse lately and this is what happens. I’m tempted to turn this into a series, but we shall see.

Originally posted by syubbie

We only said goodbye with words, I died a hundred times
You go back to her, and I go back to black

-Amy Winehouse

“Hey! What’s your name?” someone shouted at you from across the bar. His words barely louder than the beat pumping through the speakers.

The bartender handed over your drink, exchanging whiskey for your bills. The whiskey ginger burned on your tongue as you took a sip, preparing yourself to face the owner of the voice. He was handsome, but the look in his eyes told you that your name was the last thing on his mind. “No thanks.” You smiled, slipping off the bar stool to make your way through the crowd.

You felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket, the screen sticking out like a sore thumb in the dim lights of the bar your best friend had dragged you too. And as if the universe was playing a cruel trick on you, his name flashed on your screen. You scoffed as you read the familiar words.

Jin 11:45 PM: Where are you?

You held your phone up to your lips, debating if you should respond. Jin was bad for you and you knew it. That’s why the two of you broke up, to begin with. That’s why you still answered his calls and text messages. You took another sip, hoping to find some wisdom in the bottom of the ice. The screen illuminating the glass in your hand as you sank the rest of your drink. He was not a patient man.

Jin 11:48 PM: Y/N, where the hell are you?

His brashness made you wince, quickly typing out a response. Two could play this game, even though the both of you were never good at following the rules.

Y/N: 11:48 PM: Out

You really must have pissed him off as your phone started to vibrate in your hand, he was calling you.

“Stop playing games, Y/N.” Jin hissed through the phone, interrupting you before you could even say hello.

“I told you last time that this was over between us.” You raised your voice, matching his level of annoyance although for a much different reason.

Jin scoffed, “You and I both know that last time wasn’t enough.”

“Fuck you.” you quipped, annoyed at how easily the sound of his voice turned you into putty. His words pushing and pulling you into shapes that only he could make. “I’m at the bar.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.” was all he said before the line on the other end went dead.

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