juke boxe

Songs that never fail to make white people beyond turnt
  •  Don’t Stop Believing 
  • Bohemian Rhapsody 
  • Living On A Prayer 
  • Come On Eileen 
  • Sweet Caroline 
  • Shot Through the Heart 
  • Pour Some Sugar on Me 
  • Sweet Home Alabama 
  • Under Pressure 
  • Shook Me All Night Long 
  • Ice Ice Baby 
  • Cotton Eyed Joe
  • 500 Miles
  • Wonderwall 
  • Buddy Holly 
  • A Thousand Miles 
  • Teenage Dirtbag 
  • Red Solo Cup 
  • Mr Brightside 
  • Never Gonna Give You Up 
  • Eye of the Tiger 
  • Chicken Fried 
  • American Pie 
  • I Love Rock and Roll 
  • Dancing Queen 
  • Don’t You Want Me
  • We Will Rock You 
  • The Time Warp 
  • Hey Jude 
  • Piano Man
  • This Is How We Do It
  • Drops of Jupiter 
  • Hey Soul Sister
  • In The End 
  • All The Small Things 
  • Stacy’s Mom 
  • Kryptonite 
  • All Star 
  • You Found Me
  • Bad Day 
  • Bring Me To Life 
  • Dance, Dance
  • Sugar We’re Going Down 
  • I Write Sins Not Tragedies 
  • All The Small Things 
  • Ocean Avenue 
  • Dirty Little Secret 
  • Margaritaville 
  • Sk8er Boi
  • Brown Eyed Girl 
  • Life Is A Highway 
  • Some Nights 
  • Little Lion Man 
  • Breakeven
  • Hey There Delilah 
  • Viva La Vida
  • Use Somebody 
  • Carry On My Wayward Son 
  • Take On Me
  • 1985 
  • Iris 
  • I’m Awesome 
  • Seven Nation Army 
  • September 
  • Since U Been Gone
  • Skinny Love 
  • Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)
  • Bye Bye Bye 
  • Say It Ain’t So 
  • Somewhere Only We Know 
  • I’m Yours 
  • Last Resort 
  • My Girl 
  • Tiny Dancer 
  • Roxanne
  • Shout 
  • I’m a Believer 
  • Soul Man
  • Feel Good Inc 
  • Check Yes Juliet
  • Walking On Sunshine 
  • MMM Bop
  • Pumped up Kicks 
  • Hooked On A Feeling 
  • It’s A Beautiful Day
  • Summer Girls 
  • Before He Cheats 
  • Happy Together
  • You Make My Dreams Come True
  • Build Me Up Buttercup
  • Escape (The Pina Colada Song)
  • DONTTRUSTME
  • Shake It (Metro Station)
  • Juke Box Hero
  • Girls Just Want To Have Fun

an avengers-like superhero team but composed of 70s and 80s icons the Dancing Queen, Maneater, Jesse’s Girl,
My Sharona, and Benny (& the Jets)

they’re called the Juke Box Heroes

The Brown Bottle

Pairings: Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Omega!Werewolf!Reader - A/B/O

Word Count: 3400+

Summary: Sam is rough around the edges, you do your best to avoid him until one night you discover he’s your true mate and instincts take over. This is really just a lot of smut and a little plot to ease things along. 

My twist on a/b/o dynamics.

Beta:  @just-another-busy-fangirl

Warnings: NSFW gif, knotting, mating, breeding, dominance, claiming, fingering, unprotected sex, biting, dirty talk, rough sex, some dom/sub overtones.

Your name: submit What is this?





You stop in your tracks, clutching an open hand over your abdomen.

“Shit,” you mumble under your breath as an afterthought. Shit doesn’t quite do this kind of pain justice. This cycle’s heat has brought what your mother, Millie (owner and proprietor of The Brown Bottle), refers to as The Real Motherfuckers. The kind of cramps that stop a woman unexpectedly while on her way to work well after sundown. The two generic suppressants you popped an hour earlier aren’t working as well as you hoped and you find yourself wishing you’d taken a third.

These are indeed The Real Motherfuckers.

Keep reading

View | jaehyun

Genre: bodyguard!AU | fluff, angst, mild swearing and a lot of sarcasm.

Member: Jaehyun / reader (3rd person perspective!!!!!)

Word count: 3000+

Note: There will be a part 2!

Summary: “You’re staring.”

“I like the view”

“What, of London?”

“London doesn’t compare to you”

(or the one where she doesn’t need him, but maybe she wants him.)

part: one | two

Originally posted by yoon-to-the-oh

“No.”

“You’re being unreasonable. “ Jaehyun says, crossing his arms.

She shrugs, “I disagree.”

He sighs, “Look your Highness-”

“Don’t call me that.” She interrupts, crossing her legs.

“Okay princess.” He drawls sarcastically, “You simply can’t refuse to have a bodyguard without a valid reason.” He sighs.

She cocks her head, raising a eyebrow, “I have a valid reason!” She assures.

“Let’s hear it.” he demands.

“I don’t like your face.” She blurts. He frowns and she crosses her arms to mimic him.

“And you think my face is going to hinder my ability to protect you?” He questions.

“It could!” She assures in a seriousness that almost makes him laugh, “What if you’re looking at your reflection in a store window or your phone screen and someone kidnaps me?” She cries.

“Trust me, they’d bring you back.” He muttered scratching his head.

“What?”

“I said we’d get you back.” he enunciates, “Our job is to make sure nothing happens to you- for God’s sake I’m a trained professional you can’t just-”

“I don’t need a bodyguard. I don’t even need a guard dog, I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself!” She cries in frustration, running her fingers through her hair.

To silence that follows is a mutual agreement for a break- to regroup, relax, grab a glass of water or a snack before they come back to finish the conversation. He sighs, she kicks her feet like she feels guilty for something and looks down at the table. There’s a pack of cigarettes and a lighter that sit kindly beside an economist magazine and a small receipt like checklist of everything she needs to pack.

Paris.

Her fingers tap at her upper arm and she looks away to the wall to study the paint. He adjusts his suit, tugging at the collar of his shirt, “You’re stuck with me princess.” He says eventually.

Her neck snaps back to look at him. She wrinkles her nose, “Keep your distance.”




paris

She sitting on a smooth wooden bench in the center of the Louvre. The room is empty, cleared by security for her protection and she’s staring at a painting. Its called ‘The Embarkation for Cythera’ and her chin is resting on her fist. One leg is crossed over the other and she quickly adjust the denim skirt she’s wearing. She’s got a brochure in one hand and headphones in her ears where jazz floods her senses.

Jaehyun is a few meters to her left, watching her closely as she stares curiously at the art. She yanks her headphones out, “What?” She snaps, sighing and turning to look at him.

“I didn’t say anything.” He shrugs.

She rolls her eyes, “You’re staring.”

He shrugs again, “That’s my job.”

She shakes her head, “No, your job is to protect me. You could do that from the control room or from the other side of this room but instead you’re stood as close as you can get without it being suspicious and you’re staring.” she explains.

He licks his lips and points to the painting before her, “This is one of my favourite paintings.”

She raises an eyebrow, “So you were staring at the painting?” She asks, knowing full well he wasn’t.

He nods, walking closer to sit on the bench next to her, “Not everything’s about you princess.”

They sit quietly together, neither too bothered to fill the silence. The absence of crowds who discus meaningless matters makes her feel lonely and isolated but she’s learnt to be with herself. “Why did you take this job?” She pipes up, not quite sure why she’s interested.

He cocks his head to look at the painting and licks his lips, “Patriotic duty.”

She laughs, “You’re funny.”

He turns to look at her, “You don’t believe me?”

She scoffs, “I don’t even think you believe you.”

“Okay.” He says carefully, crossing his arms, “Why do you think I took the job?”

She pauses and watches him carefully. She holds up her hand, “I have two theories.” She states.

He smirks, “I’m all ears.”

“the first-” she starts, her posture changing because she’s in her element, “Is that you were bored. You got sick and tired of foreign business men and all that bureaucracy and you heard the rumours.”

He raises an eyebrow, “What rumours?”

“The ones about me.” She says, pointing to herself. He scoffs but she continues, “You heard about the strange princess who doesn’t buy into this whole royalty thing and you were curious.”

“Curious enough to leave the KCIA and baby sit a brat?” He asks sarcastically.

She clicks her fingers, “Or you were fired. I’m still developing some more theories.” she sighs.

He scoffs a laugh, “Yeah well keep looking.”

She sighs again, turning back to the painting. The silence becomes deafening, an unbearable reminder that she’s always alone and completely segregated from the rest of society. He can see the sadness in her eyes, he saw it the moment he met her when she watched her distant family’s children dancing in the gardens of the palace. He sees it every time she has to attend some event or smile at some strangers her parents introduce her to, even sometimes when she watches students on their way to school, laughing with their friends.

“So which one is your favourite painting?” He asks quietly, trying to give her some kind of human interaction before she locks herself in her hotel room.

She swallows, scratching her head, “I hate art.”

He frowns, “Why are you here?”

She shrugs, looking around the room at the different paintings. “I wanted to feel less alone.” she says quietly.

He rolls his eyes, “Yikes, do you ever stop feeling sorry for yourself?” He asks tiredly.

She glares, “Fuck you.”

He shakes his head, “There are many ways to feel less alone, like hookers.” he suggests.

She tries to stay angry but her lips threaten a smile and she looks down at her hands, “You’re funny.” she states once more, but this time he doesn’t think it’s sarcastic.

He points, “You should smile more.”

She waves him off even though he looks smug because he can see her trying not to grin, “Shut up.”




She’s curled against the window with a book half open in her hands and her legs bent against her body. Jaehyun’s sitting in a leather chair nearby, looking around the room while his fingers tap anxiously against the arm of the seat. He sighs loudly, “How long are we going to be here?” he asks.

“How long is a rope?” she retorts, not testing her eyes from the book.

“Long enough to hang myself with.” He replies.

“Oh, boo-hoo, your life is so miserable.” She says sarcastically, turning a page.

He sighs again, glancing around the room. The building has high ceilings with shelves the reach as high as they can. Books are in piles on coffee table before leather chairs and large windows let in light to show dust over some of them. He pushes some aside with his feet, distantly curious but barely caring enough to sit up properly. He glances at her, “What are you reading?” He asks in an attempt to appease his boredom.

She sighs, “It’s called Man’s Search For Meaning.”

He cocks his head, “Is it a self help book?” He mocks.

She scoffs, “You’re an idiot.”

He rolls his eyes, “You’re mean.” he points out.

“No.” She begins, “I dislike persistent human interaction, something I cannot get away from as long as you continue to be present in my life because your contract says you need to shadow me 24/7” she hisses.

There’s a pause and he points to her, “Mean.” He repeats.

She rolls her eyes.

He watches her read, the light from the window falling on her face like she’s waking up from a dream and her hair is tucked behind her ear. She flicks through the book like she’s hungry for some kind of intellect she can’t find in her everyday world and she bites her lip when she concentrates. “You’re staring again.” She states, not looking up from the pages.

He clicks his tongue, “I like the view.”

She looks up and raises and eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

He points to the window that overlooks le canal saint martin where trees grow along the pavement and provide shade to couples who sit on benches and watch the water flow. “Paris is beautiful.” He states with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes, “It’s famous for that.”

He cocks his head, “So are you.”

She sighs loudly and lays the book down against her lap. “Are you flirting with me?” She asks carefully.

He shrugs, “You’re pretty, we’re in Paris, might as well make the most of a bad situation.” he crosses his arms.

She shakes her head, “Your job is to protect me, not take me out.”

He sighs loudly, a grunt emitting from his throat, “Buzzkill.”

She stares at him a little longer, “You’re so unprofessional, there is no way you can protect me more than I can myself.”

“Wanna bet?” He replies without a beat.

“Do I get to go back to reading if I agree?” she says tiredly, rubbing her eyes.

He nods, “Pinky promise.”

She smirks slightly, “What’s the bet?”

He points to her, “You get a point every time you don’t need me, I get a point every time you do.”

She smiles, “You’re on.”




new york

They’re sitting in a red leather booth by the window. The floor is tiled black and white and there’s a rainbow coloured juke box in a corner where a Beatles song is playing over the speakers. She’s scarfing down a burger and the fluorescent lighting from the diner stings her eyes, it’s a contrast from the darkness outside. Jaehyun sits opposition her with his arms crossed to match the boredom on his face.

she glances at him, “Don’t look so glum.” she giggles with a childlike grin.

“You’re drunk.” he points out.

She giggles again, slurping from her milkshake and crossing a leg over the other. She’s wearing his jacket because she didn’t have one of her own and the velvet dress was too thin to keep any heat in. “You’re a buzzkill.” she retorts.

He purses his lips, “You’re an idiot.”

I’m a princess.” She reminds, wagging her finger back and forth.

He rolls his eyes, “You snuck out and went clubbing.”

She shrugs, “I like the music.” But her lip lifts into a smirk and he knows she’s still sober enough to be herself.

“You can’t ditch your security.” He repeats for what feels like the hundredth time.

She shakes her head, “I think you’ll find that I can, and I did.”

“It’s dangerous.” He enunciates, leaning forward.

She scoffs and waves him off, “The only dangerous thing about tonight is the blister on my foot.”

“Or-” he Interrupts, snatching her milkshake and taking a gulp, “The guy who followed you to the club, the one who nearly slipped something into your drink and the one who tried to hit on you.”

She frowns, “You’re the one who followed me to the club, you’re saying I was in danger of you?”

He pauses, narrowing his eyes, “You knew?” He asks.

She breathes a laugh, “Of course I knew, and what was wrong with the guy who tried to hit on me?” she adds absentmindedly, finally finishing off her burger.

He raises an eyebrow, “Really?” She just stares so he sighs and points to his wrist, “Gang tat on his arm.”

“Oh, a bad boy.” She giggled again, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

“A very bad boy.” He reminds.

She smiles like he’s the funniest guy on earth and he tries his best not to stare too long because she really is very beautiful. She picks up the menu again, scanning through the options, glancing at him every few seconds. She hesitates, opens her mouth a few times but doesn’t say anything.

She folds the menu and puts it down, “I have another theory.” She states.

He narrows his eyes, “Alright.” He nods.

She licks her lips and crosses her arms “You’re running away from something.”

He cocks his head and she thinks she’s getting somewhere, “Continue.”

She shrugs, “That’s all I’ve got. Maybe you fucked up, hurt someone or got hurt- I’ve seen the scar on your hip.”

His arms instinctively tighten together and he wrinkles his nose, “You been checking me out?” He smirks, trying to deflect.

She shrugs again, “I like the view.”

“Now princess, are you flirting with me?” he questions, leaning forward in his seat and pressing his forearms into the table.

He’s got this smile on his face like he knows what she’s going to say. She smiles back, like they’re drunk idiots at 4am eating junk food somewhere in the middle of new York. She wipes her lip with her thumb and rest her elbows on the table, her head resting in her hands. They’re close enough that she’s pretty sure he can heart her heart slamming against her rib cage, “You’re beautiful.” She murmurs.

He cocks his head, his hand reaching out and pushing the hair away from her face. He tucks it behind her ear and she sighs, closing her eyes, “You’re drunk.” He says sadly.

She giggles, only making everything crash down around them much faster, “‘Yes I’m drunk, and you’re beautiful. And tomorrow I’ll be sober-’

‘And you’ll still be beautiful.’” he finishes. He sighs, letting his hand drop, “Its late princess, let’s get you home.”

She smiles again when she sees his cheeks flushed red and as he leads her out of the diner, his hand is on the small of her back, trying to keep her steady. He tries his best not to touch her for too long in case he kisses her but he helps her climb into the car and she holds onto his hand a little too tight like she doesn’t want to let go of him.

He smiles.

Her: 1

Jaehyun: 1




She’s panting, sweat dripping down her forehead and her shirt clings to her body. She takes a swig of her water bottle and wipes her cheek, trying to cool herself down. She looks over the cliff, staring down into what seems like the abyss and smiles. She’s trekked all this distance, wading through the dirt and gravel and the grass that scratches her ankles while the sun beat down on her skin.

“I didn’t take you for a hiking person.” Jaehyun huffs out.

She chugs a gulp of water and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, “I wanted to try something new.”

He shakes his head and clicks his tongue, knowing full well she did it to get some space and, and sighs, “Right.”

“Anyway-” She shrugs, stepping over a rock, “This is fun.”

“Oh yeah, 1000° of fun.” he mocks sarcastically, wiping his forehead.

She scoffs, “I didn’t take you for a whiner.” She mutters.

He smirks, “Sexually or just in general?”

“You’re hilarious.” She says breathlessly, placing her hands on her hips as she stands straight, trying to get some air into her lungs. He keeps walking as she looks at the distant view of the city.

“You need to stop princess?” Jaehyun calls from ahead.

She swallows, looking up at him and shakes her head with a grin, “Not a chance.” She assures, jogging to catch up with him.

He’s not in his suit for once. They’re both in workout gear, trainers and T-shirts and sweat all over their bodies but they’re both smiling at each other as they continue to hike up the sandy hill. “I have a question.” he breathes heavily.

She keeps walking, “Okay.”

He takes a gulp of water, “Why are you off gallivanting the world with no specific purpose?”

“I have a purpose.” She points out nonchalantly.

“Care to share?” he asks curiously.

She shrugs, “I want to gallivant the world.”

He nods, “That’s a good argument.” He points out, almost impressed.

But he’s got this tone to his voice that makes her eyes narrow, “But you don’t believe me.” She states, wiping the sweat from her forehead again.

He smirks, “I don’t even think you believe you.”

She shrugs and keeps walking, “Okay, what do you think my purpose for doing all of this is?” she asks tiredly.

He follows after her, still sweating from everywhere, “I have one theory.” He states.

“Only one?” She replies, raising an eyebrow.

He sighs disappointingly, “Yes sorry, only one.”

She smiles softly, “Let’s hear it.” She orders.

He stops, taking a deep breath and placing his hands on his hips. He pants through his words and she stops next to him. “I think you’re running away from something.”

He waits for a reaction that never comes, she just keeps panting, stays silent and tries to regain her breath. She swallows, hands on her knees and shakes her head, “Aren’t we all?” She responds, standing upright and staring at him. “And that’s not a very original theory, I seem to remember using it myself.” She reminds.

He cocks his head, “And now you’re deflecting.”

She smirks, “Well aren’t you a smart one.” She says sarcastically with no tone of anger in her voice which tells him she’s not upset he’s starting to figure her out, maybe because she doesn’t think he’ll get very far.

“I think you don’t want to be queen, or princess even.” He adds, “I think this is your way of experiencing life outside of that.”

She almost rolls her eyes, “A child could have diagnosed that.” she starts to walk up the hill again, lugging her body up the steep slope.

He raises an eyebrow, “Diagnosed?” He calls after her.

“Yeah” she calls back, “It’s called the grass is always greener on the other side or um… wanting what you can’t have?” but there’s a hint of bitterness to her voice and he knows she’s annoyed.

“And what you want is a normal life.” He states.

She narrows her eyes and stops walking, her hands on her hips. She takes a deep breath and sighs. She hesitates telling him, she’s not the kind to complain but she feels like he needs to understand her. She swallows, “You’ve seen my life; the glitz and glam and everything that goes on behind it. I was never in line for the throne so for a while, I knew what it was like to have none of that. I went to school, I was a bartender i…” She pauses, her eyebrows furrowed like she really needs an honest answer. “I never wanted to be princess, and then suddenly my uncle dies and my mum becomes… I’m thrown into this limelight, I had no choice in that!” She says louder, like she’s getting riled up, “I thought I could get used to it, if I pretend enough it’ll become reality right?” She takes a breath, looking away from him and watching the birds fly over the distant cliffs, “But I know this isn’t where I’m supposed to be.” she mutters.

He cocks his head, “You’re thinking about this the wrong way.” He points out, moving to stand closer to her. “We’re in the 21st century, you can be anything you want. You can be princess and have a job, you can go to school and rule a country. The possibilities are limitless! You could buy your own bar and work for yourself.” He pauses, “People look up to you princess. Show them what you got.”

She smiles softly, feeling uplifted into a new realm of thought. But she doesn’t tell him, only shoves him away with a giggle and takes off running towards the summit of the cliff- “Last one there’s a rotten egg!” she cries behind her.

Jae smiles softly and shakes his head, this girl.

Her: 2

Jaehyun: 1

(She beats him, she thinks that deserves a point no matter what)

part: one | two

Amelia (Part 1 of 3)

MASTERLIST | Part 2

Pairing: Lin-Manuel x Reader

Summary: You technically met Amy first.

Note: Untitled Garbage Mystery Fic is no longer Untitled or a Mystery!

Okay, so this was initially gonna be a small thing and then it kinda got away from me so it’s a slightly less small thing? I basically needed to write something that wasn’t academic for once in my life and then this happened (with a great deal of help from @fragmentofmymind who is the greatest and listens to me every time I hit a metaphorical writing speed bump)

It’s far from the best thing I’ve ever written but I’ve had fun in this universe so far (and hope you do too). Thanks for being patient with me, my dudes. I LOVE YOU LOTS.

Word Count: 11,336 (shout out to slow burn lmao)


There’s a quiet power in wielding a camera, a strength in the ability to either capture the world in its purest truth or manipulate it into something brand new. You had learned this at a young age, stealing your grandmother’s Polaroid camera and discovering how different the image you could create would look in different types of light and more or less motion, even if you didn’t fully understand why it worked the way that it did.

It became a part of you, filling your heart with a curiosity for telling stories through images. The photo you caught of your mother as she laughed quietly to herself in the kitchen, a snapshot of your best friend right at the moment she caught you taking it, a poorly framed photo you accidentally took of yourself while trying to change the roll of film.

It was all magical to you, and it never really stopped feeling like you’d tricked the universe into allowing such beauty to exist every time you snapped a one-of-a-kind photograph.

A camera is built out of complicated technology. The mechanics of focus and aperture, f-stops and shutter speed were more than science and math to you–they were your doorway into a new world, the look of which you got to decide.

Your hands felt most comfortable when stabilizing a camera, your eye most at home behind a viewfinder, your fingers their most graceful as you pulled focus to a new subject–

“Are you even listening to me?”

Keep reading

Juke Box Hero
Foreigner
Juke Box Hero

30 Day Song Challenge:

5. A song that needs to be played LOUD

Juke Box Hero//Foreigner

So he started rockin’

Ain’t never gonna stop

Gotta keep on rockin’

Someday he’s gonna make it to the top

And be a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes

He’s a juke box hero

He took one guitar, juke box hero, stars in his eyes

Juke box hero, he’ll come alive tonight

Night Rider


“we have to go. Come on Jughead, man everyone’s going, if we don’t show up the Serpents are gonna think we don’t care.” the lanky, blonde teen named Richie leaned lazily against the beat up pickup truck outside Jugheads trailer, impatiently swallowing down the rest of his beer.

Jughead Jones was bent over his motorcycle, a cigarette dangling lazily from between his lips as he peered around the engine “I don’t care what the rest of the Serpents think, we do enough for them anyway, we’ve been part of the gang for years now, we don’t need to hang out at those ridiculous bars. you go if you want, I’ve got stuff to do.”

Richie rolled his eyes, “I’m not going without you. We gotta go, come on just this one time, I’ll buy you all the burgers you want.” the tall blonde wiggled his eyebrows and shoved his mysterious friends shoulder.

Jughead straightened up and crossed his arms, raising a brow as Richie folded his hands and mock pouted, Jughead finally cracked a smile and shook his head
“whatever. lets go,” he wiped the grease from his hands on his jeans as Richie stared incredulously at the tall, dark haired boy

“you cant go like that, you’ve gotta get changed. you’re covered in Grease.”

Jughead wrapped an arm around his friends shoulders putting him in a headlock “you scared of a little dirt Richie Rich?” he teased, tugging the blonde boy away as both the teenagers mounted their bikes, straightening their leather jackets, the snake shaped S displayed proudly on the back.

The Whyte Worm was one of the worst bars in Riverdale, it was located deep in the Southside and was nothing but a room filled with a broken down pool table and cheap décor, alcohol littering every corner, it was the kind of place Jughead absolutely hated but found himself in more often than he would like, he stood outside the wooden doors, his hands clenching into fists as he rolled his neck back, he hated this, all of it, being a serpent, keeping up appearances. It was exhausting and lately he found it harder to sit back and be nothing more than his fathers son, he just wanted to be Jughead Jones, whoever that was.

“come on, I bet they’ve got peanuts again.” Richie breezed past Jughead, his hands out as he headed into the bar. Jughead rolled his eyes again, slipping a cigarette in between his smirking lips. It was gonna be a long night.

the Worm was as crowded as always and Jughead instantly felt the familiar itch he always seemed to get in overpopulated spaces take over his body, the familiar crew was sprawled around the bar but there were a few unfamiliar faces as well. A red haired boy in a tight maroon Tshirt was leaning against the bar, his eyes trained on a girl with matching red hair and her friend, the friend had a fairly expensive pair of pearls on and both the girls were clearly drunk as they danced loosely to the old rock song playing through the juke box, his eyes shifted to a tall Asian boy with shoulders built for the football field, he was leaning close to someone who made something shift in Jugheads stomach.

She was something from an old 1950s noir movie, her silky honey blonde hair was left loose in perfect waves, her cherry red lips stood out against the porcelain of her skin and the startling bright green of her eyes, her body was built for sin and even underneath the tiny white dress she wore he could see curves that were made to be held. Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe it. Her fingers were tapping on the bar counter as she laughed at something the boy beside her said, she looked at ease, but the tension in her shoulders told a different story, unlike her drunk friends she seemed to be perfectly sober as she glanced around the bar and sipped on a water bottle.

“she’s something to look at huh?” F.P Jones was beside Jughead now, his hand laying heavy on his sons shoulder.

Jughead shook his fathers hand off “what’s she doing here?” he asked coldly.
something like hurt flickered in the older mans eyes before he quickly covered it

“guess they just wanted to have night out, not much to do on the northside, everyone wants a taste of the southside every once in a while. but that one? the pretty blonde in the dress? as odd as it is, I think she fits in the best here.” he chuckled, slapping his hand to jugheads back before backing away and into the crowd.

By the time Jughead looked back to the bar the blonde was gone, her tall friend was chatting up some Serpents daughter by the bar. He glanced to the door and saw a swish of blonde hair and a flash of long legs, putting his cigarette out with the toe of his combat boot he took a deep breath and made his moves towards the door.

she was leaning against the wall, the water bottle still clutched between her hands as her head was resting on the dark red bricks, eyes closed and toes pointed. Jughead pulled another cigarette out and placed it in between his lips, wiping his sweaty palms on the pockets of his jeans, he leaned beside her on the wall

“nice night” he mumbled, the girl in the dress’ eyes snapped open and she stared confused at the leather jacket wearing boy

“sure is, I love summer nights.” she sighed dreamily

“I get that.” he smiled at her warm eyes, “ Jughead Jones. I’ve never seen you here before, you new to town?” Jughead smirked, puffing on his cigarette
with twinkling eyes Betty giggled

“ I’m Betty Cooper, what do I not fit in?” she glanced down at her dress playfully “ maybe I should get a leather jacket.”

jughead grinned
“ might not be such a bad idea.”

Betty smiled before glancing away
“ my friends wanted to come, they love places like this. I don’t think.. Its not really my scene.” she shrugged slightly, her eyes coming up to meet his.

Jughead stared deep into her grassy green eyes, they were hauntingly beautiful, in a show of bravery he reached out for hand

“lets go then.” his eyes shifted to his motorcycle and Bettys followed, hers getting wide before she smiled slightly

“really? you’ll..you’ll take me?”
he brought a hand to the back of his neck

“I don’t have a helmet or anything…” Jughead trailed off.
with one final glance at the bar, Betty gripped the dark haired boys hand

“ come on Jughead Jones, the night is young.”

he laughed as the Beautiful blonde girl next door pulled him to the row of bikes.

the night was still young.

fleetribeiro  asked:

I love your Bughead fanfics! They're so good! :) Here's my prompt: Betty and Jughead are listening to the radio, some fun pop song comes on, and Betty convinces Jug to dance. He's not the greatest dancer, but when the music changes to something slower, it's Betty whose out of her element. But then Jughead pulls her close, because turns out secretly he's an amazing slow dancer...

Kickass prompt! You gave me the plot so all I have to do is flesh it out :)

704 words / G-T / AO3

-

It’s late at Pop’s, and there is no one but Betty and Jughead in the Shoppe. Pop is cleaning or sleeping in the back, knowing his regulars will call on him if they need anything.

Pop has left an old radio on the counter ever since the juke box had broken, and the pair has brought it to their booth and has been switching in between radio stations and guessing the songs as they come on.

The score is 15 for Jughead and 11 for Betty when the next song comes on:

Who’s around when the days feel long

“Oh! I know this!” Betty exclaims, jumping up out of the booth, while Jughead tries to listen for more.

Who’s around when you can’t be strong

“I have no idea,” Jughead slouches in the booth, throwing his arms up in defeat. Betty has shut her eyes and is bouncing up and down excitedly.

Who’s around when you’re losing your mind

Somebody Loves You, by Betty Who!” Betty cheers, dancing around. Jughead laughs at her glee, and her victory dance turns into real dancing.

Jughead watches her while tapping his fingers to the beat on the table. He sees how she dances without a worry, not caring at all.

“C’mon Juggie,” she teases, coming up to him, “get up and dance,” she pulls on his arm.

“I don’t dance,” he says, putting his free hand over hers on his arm, his comment earning him puppy dog eyes, “and by that I mean I can’t dance to this,” he tells her without shame, hoping to get out of embarrassing himself.

Betty is having none of it.

“Oh, please,” she rolls her eyes and pulls him up.

He lets her pull his weight, reluctantly standing while she dances around him to turn up the music. He adjusts his hat from where it’s tilted and loosens his neck, preparing to dance. Betty chuckles at his mannerisms as he starts to side-step offbeat. Every now and then he throws in a little shoulder roll while she hops around, swinging her arms and snapping, then Jughead tries to copy her and fails miserably.

They laugh and dance through the whole song, trying to mock each others dance moves, until the song changes.

Beauty queen of only eighteen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else

It’s a slow song and Betty slows her movements and eventually stalls, crossing her arms.

“Well that was fun,” she takes a step towards their booth when suddenly Jughead is stepping towards her and uncrossing her arms.

“Not so fast,” he places one of her hands on his shoulder an holds the other, his hand falling to rest on her waist, “this I can dance to,” he smirks, and leads her in slowly stepping side to side. She is staring at her feet to get the steps right, and Jughead sometimes gently pulls or pushes her hand to indicate for her to step forwards or backwards.

I’ve had you so many times but somehow I want more

Betty looks up from where she was focusing on her feet to Jughead, who is smiling at her, inches from her face.

Their steps slow, and Betty finds herself staring at Jughead’s lips, right there in front of her, then realizes what she’s doing and looks up. With a blush rising in her cheeks she finds that Jughead is looking at hers as well and his eyes flash up to meet her gaze.

There is a second pause as the two question what is really happening, then both of them simultaneously meet in the middle to kiss.

It’s instantly heated, Jughead pulling Betty in by the waist, pulling their bodies flush against one another. She threads her fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands to get a better angle in the kiss, as the two of them get impossibly closer.

When they both inevitably come up for air, the song on the radio is just finishing.

Please don’t try so hard to say goodbye

With the sounds of their deep breathing filling the silence between the songs Jughead says, “Maroon 5, She Will Be Loved.”

Shape Of You (E.D)

Summary: This is based off the song Shape of You by Ed Sheeran. Ethan meets a girl at a bar. Does Ethan start to fall for her?

Word Count:1,967

Warnings: Sexual mentions. (brief)

A/N: Ethan is older in this, like 22/23. I know they said they wouldn’t drink, but lets just pretend they do for the time being. 

Originally posted by achromatic-soul

Ethan’s POV

The club isn’t the best place to find a lover
So the bar is where I go
Me and my friends at the table doing shots
Drinking fast and then we talk slow

“Peace!” Grayson and I shouted at our camera.

“Finally! I feel like we’ve been filming forever!” Grayson said, walking over to turn the camera off.

“At least we got the filming out the way. Now all we gotta do is edit, and have it up on Tuesday.” I said, packing up the filming equipment.

“Lets edit tomorrow. Aaron and Jack wanted to go get some drinks tonight.” Grayson said, as we were putting everything away in our camera room.

Grayson and I finally finished filming all our videos for next week. Tonight we decided to go have a few drinks with our friends Aaron, and Jack.

* * * *

We were at the bar, drinking and talking, as we waited for another round of shots. I couldn’t help but notice a beautiful girl sitting across the bar. She was sitting with a group of girls who I assumed were her friends. She had on some kind of white shirt that exposed her shoulders, showing off her lightly tan skin. Her hair was pushed back into a low ponytail, giving me a clear view of her face. Her gaze met mine, and her stained red lips formed into a smile.

“Yo E, what are you staring at?” Grayson asked, causing the guys to stop talking, and glancing in the same direction as me.

“Dude she’s hot!” Aaron said, before drinking his beer.

“Go talk to her dude!” Jack said, pushing me off my seat slightly.

“Uh I think she’s coming over here E.” Grayson said. 

And you come over and start up a conversation with just me
And trust me I’ll give it a chance now
Take my hand, stop, put Van the Man on the jukebox
And then we start to dance, and now I’m singing like

She was walking over to our end of the bar with her drink in hand. She had on some tight olive colored jeans, showing off the curves of her hips. She looked tall, but that could’ve been from the heels she was wearing.

She placed the drink down on the counter, and took the empty seat next to mine. 

“Hey, I’m Y/N.” she said, reaching out her hand to shake mine. 

“I’m Ethan. Um n-nice to meet you.” I replied nervously, grabbing her hand in mine to shake it. I noticed her well groomed nails, were polish a soft pink color.

* * * *

I introduced her to the guys. After a while they left, and so did her friends, leaving just me and Y/N. I told her about myself, and about YouTube. She thought it was pretty cool, and promise that she’ll watch some of our videos. We spent over an hour talking getting to know each other a little bit, while we enjoyed a few more drinks.

She was sitting in the bar stool, swaying back and forth to the music playing on the juke box. 

“Want to dance?” I asked, holding out my hand.

“Sure.” she smiled, taking my hand and we walked over to the dance floor.

Originally posted by cannotthinkstraight

Girl, you know I want your love
Your love was handmade for somebody like me
Come on now, follow my lead
I may be crazy, don’t mind me
Say, boy, let’s not talk too much
Grab on my waist and put that body on me
Come on now, follow my lead
Come, come on now, follow my lead

Her hands were placed on each of my shoulder, while my hands were at the small of her back as we swayed to the rhythm of the music. Her eyes were locked on the ground, I couldn’t tell if it was because she was nervous or is she was scared that I was going to step on all of her toes. Even with heels on she was still short than me. Her forehead only measured up to my chin. Chuckling at the thought of how much shorter she’ll be without the heels on. I guess she heard me, which caused her eyes to dart up at me. 

“What?” she asked, eyes meeting mine.

“Nothing, you’re just pretty short.” I said, flashing her a smile, making her playfully roll her eyes at me.

We continued to talk while we were dancing. Somewhere in the mist of our conversation, I couldn’t help but her lost into her soulful eyes. They had a sparkle to them, that captivated me. She was truly so beautiful. I guess she noticed I had stop paying attention, so she grabbed both of my hands that were resting on her back, catching me off guard. She moved them down to her waist, hooking her arms around the back of my neck. Pulling me closer. Our bodies were so close that it sent electric shocks through me as we swayed slowly on the dance floor to the music.

I’m in love with the shape of you
We push and pull like a magnet do
Although my heart is falling too
I’m in love with your body

We continued to move slowly to the music. My hands still on her waist. Wishing that they could be all over her right now. I wanted to run my hands over every line, every curve on her body. Memorizing her body. I wanted to taste her pink lips, and feel her wavy hair between my fingers. I wanted to love every inch of her.

Originally posted by pleasingpics

And last night you were in my room
And now my bedsheets smell like you
Every day discovering something brand new
I’m in love with your body

I opened my eyes to see Grayson with his phone in my face. I smacked it away, annoyed at how he always loves to wake me up.

“Woah! Did you guys have sex last night?” he asked. He raised his eyebrows, picking up a condom wrapper off the floor.

“Are you cheating on me Ethan?” Grayson said in his girl voice, fake crying into his hands. 

“Dude get the fuck out!” I yelled, throwing a pillow at him, as he was running out the bedroom.

I turned over to the other side of the bed, and the scent of Chanel perfume filled my nose. Moments from last night flashed back into my head.

* Flashback *

… picking up my pace, I started thrusting harder. Faster. Loud moans escaping her lips every time the thick length of my dick, brushed up against her clit with every thrust. I kissed her hard, feeling myself reaching that point. I gave her one more deep thrust, my groans vibrating through her body, as I released into the condom. I rolled off of her and onto my side, resting my hand on top of her waist pulling her towards me. Falling asleep with my long arm draped around her.

* End Of Flashback *

One week in we let the story begin
We’re going out on our first date
You and me are thrifty, so go all you can eat
Fill up your bag and I fill up a plate
We talk for hours and hours about the sweet and the sour
And how your family is doing okay
Leave and get in a taxi, then kiss in the backseat
Tell the driver make the radio play, and I’m singing like

I met Y/N a little over a week ago at the bar, and almost instantly we had a connection. Maybe that sounds a little cliche, but I like her, and I’m pretty sure she likes me too. We’ve been texting none stop since she left my house early that morning after the bar. She wasn’t like these other girls, she was different. She didn’t care about me being a well known YouTuber. She didn’t treat me like I was “famous”. She treated me like any other normal, average guy. I decided it was time for an actual date. I mean aside from that night, we haven’t been able to hang out or see each other because of both our busy schedules. Her with college and work, and me with filming. I finally had some time off this week, so I decided to call her up, and maybe set up a little something.

* * * *

I decided to take Y/N on a hike, and I would have a nice picnic set up for us under the beautiful LA night sky. I wanted us to be somewhere were we could be by ourselves and really get to enjoy each others company. Talk, and get to know one another a little bit better. 

She told me more about her life, as did I. We talked about her family, about good things, and even the bad things that happened in our lives. We were so comfortable with each other, and there was no doubt that the connection we had was strong. We lost track of time, and by the time I checked my watch it was already a little past midnight. I didn’t want the date to end, but I knew it was time, we both headed home. 

I made sure I had an Uber waiting for us, that way we didn’t have to walk back home. Within a few minutes, the Uber pulled up. I opened the door for Y/N, and she got in sliding towards the window with me getting in right after her. 

I wrapped my left arm around her shoulder, gently pulling her body towards mine. Letting her body fall a little on mine, so she can rest her hand comfortably on my shoulder. 

“Thank you for an amazing date Ethan.” she spoke. Her voice was low, but I was able to make out what she was saying.

“Hopefully we can do this again soon.” I said, looking at down at her with a cocked up eyebrow. This was my way of asking her on another date. 

“I’d love to.” she replied, tilting her head up, and her eyes meeting mine. Impulsively, I leaned down and kissed her. Immediately her hands found the sides of my cheeks, and she kissed me back. My hand found its way to the small of her back, pushing her closer towards me. Without breaking the kiss, she threw one leg over me, and straddle me in the back of the Uber. My other hand rested on the back of her neck. Our kisses became deeper, and more intense. I heard the driver turn up the radio, I’m guessing to block us out, but I didn’t care. 

Our kiss was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. We pulled away to see that we were in front of Y/N’s apartment complex. I was about to tell her goodbye, but without saying a word, she grabbed my hand pulling me out the backseat of the Uber. Walking me up the stairs to her apartment.

Originally posted by pleasingpics

Girl, you know I want your love
Your love was handmade for somebody like me
Come on now, follow my lead
I may be crazy, don’t mind me
Say, boy, let’s not talk too much
Grab on my waist and put that body on me
Come on now, follow my lead
Come, come on now, follow my lead

Tone of Voice (Optional Bias x Reader)

You ran your hands through your hair as your right leg bounced in time to your racing heart, your eyes glued, unseeing to the small book in your hands as a deep, melodic voice murmured steadily in the back of your mind. How did you get yourself into this mess? You had just wanted some extra money to pay your monthly car payment and have a little money left over to spend on yourself. This side job had been everything you were looking for: easy, convenient, well paying…but you had gotten way more than you had ever bargained for…

“Y/N?”

A shiver made its way down your spine as your name dripped smoothly from his lips. You suppressed a deep sigh as your eyes turned toward the source of the voice, slowly as if moving through water.

“What is it, B/N?” you asked as you allowed your eyes to settle on the beautiful specimen next to you. You immediately knew it was a mistake.

Your eyes instantly traveled over his form for the twentieth time since he had walked in the door this afternoon. You weren’t sure what he had been doing or was going to be doing after their weekly lesson today but you found yourself desperately wanting to be a part of it. His tight, black jeans ripped at his knees left little of his deliciously sculpted legs to the imagination as they disappeared into a pair of black combat boots. The black t-shirt covering his torso was a comfortable, loose fit but the way he lounged in his chair stretched the fabric across his well toned abdomen while his arms were covered by a beautiful, shining black leather jacket.

Your gaze found his dark, questioning eyes, partially covered by his messy black hair that was hanging down over his forehead. Those eyes, mysterious and alluring. That hair, luscious and taunting. Those lips, pink and oh so tempting. You physically shook your head in a feeble attempt to break the trace he unknowingly had you in. You weren’t a shallow person, but the man sitting in front of you was everything physical you had ever wanted in the opposite sex and it was highly distracting, as it always was but especially today. Today it was almost unbearable.

“Do you want me to keep going?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing deeper at your demeanor. Something was different about you today and he had instantly picked up on it.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, shifting your attention back to the small book in your hands, “Um, what page were we on again?” you asked quietly, heat rushing to your face.

You had been too mentally distracted to keep up, though you were supposed to be the one leading the lesson. You wanted to kick yourself, hard. You were more professional than this. A man’s appearance shouldn’t have this much effect on you no matter how ridiculously attractive he was.

You and B/N had been meeting every week for the past three months. You had been searching through the online advertisements on one of the local job search engines when you had stumbled upon an ad requesting an English language coach. The subject spoke passable English but still desired coaching to become more comfortable with the language. The ad simply requested one session a week, three hours a session, and was offering $150 per session. You had checked the address of where the advertiser had requested the meetings to be held and it was only a ten minute drive from your apartment. You had immediately sent your resume in and had received a request for your services a day later. You and B/N met up for your first session a few days later at the address he emailed you.

The first session had mainly consisted of introductions and determining what your plan would be for future sessions. Turned off at the thought of printing off standard worksheets for B/N to work on and you to correct, you decided that the best way to get him more comfortable with the language was to get experience in it. The remainder of the first session had consisted of you asking him about his background and his current goals and interests. He had answered thoroughly and enthusiastically, the only condition being that you had to tell him about yourself as well.

You used the information you gathered from your first session to guide the following lessons. You would send him articles covering topics you had shared interests in with the sole purpose of talking about them the next time you met. You based everything around discussion, making him talk as much as possible. You would talk about everything from words and concepts that he didn’t quite grasp to general discussions of opinions on the subject of the article.

From articles you moved to books, assigning him specific chapters for discussion as well as reading out loud when you were together to work on his diction and word flow. You spent an entire month discussing all of the complex themes of The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. You carefully explained a few of the deeper concepts that B/N had picked up; there was more there but he didn’t fully understand them because of his inability to pick apart the implied illusions. However, you found yourself impressed with his intelligence. Once he knew the right words, his takes on the mature themes of the novel caused even you to pause and reconsider your own perceptions. The few hours that you spent together were quickly becoming the highlight of each of your weeks.

Last week, you had finished your discussion on your latest book and while he was reading wonderfully now, you wanted to work on his word inflection a little bit more so that he didn’t sound so monotone when he was reading. You found a book housing a collection of random poetry that you had discovered in a small bookstore that you had been casually browsing one day and decided that poetry would be what you tackled next. Teaching him to put rhythm into his words would make his diction more captivating to those who listened and entice them to look past his accent and understand what he was trying to say. You had “assigned” him the first twenty poems in the book just to read over and see if he could find some rhythm in the words on his own. You hadn’t really been expecting much this week but you sure as hell hadn’t been expecting this…

When the first poem fell from his lips, you had to close your jaw which you hadn’t realized had dropped open until he had finished and was offering you a quizzical expression. He had always had a nice, deep voice but when he read poetry…sirens were no longer mythical creatures. You would follow that voice anywhere with no questions asked. You had assumed he would need help finding where to apply accents or draw out syllables, but it was perfect. He was a natural, and it had you completely thrown off. His appearance had already been distracting. If you were being honest with yourself, his appearance had been distracting since the day you had met him, but you had always been able to get past his attractive nature to carry out and participate fully in your sessions. Today was a different story, however. The combination of his dangerously sexy exterior with his equally seductive and sensual voice was driving you crazy.

You found your mind drifting to scenes of that provocative voice whispering that very same poetry softly into your ear as you drank a glass of wine together, his arms pulling you tightly against his chest…as you danced slowly, swaying side to side to ambient music in a candle lit room…as that beautiful body moved intimately against yours, his teeth nibbling on the shell of your ear and your fingers digging into the muscular flesh of his back…

“Page 13,” B/N offered, interrupting your highly inappropriate thoughts, his expression taking on one of determination as he stared at the book in front of him.

You looked down at the pages in your hands. You were on page nine…you had spaced out for that long? You internally shook yourself. You seriously needed to pull yourself together. Straightening in your chair, you began to quickly flip through the next few pages while motioning for him to go ahead. You stopped on the page as B/N opened his mouth to begin reading and you took one look at the title and your hand dropped to the edge of your chair. All you could do is hold on for dear life.

“Juke Box Love by Langston Hughes,” B/N began, shifting to lean forward, his face fully concentrating on the words in front of him…

“I could take the Harlem night
And wrap around you,
Take the neon lights and make a crown,
Take the Lenox Avenue busses
Taxis, subways,
And for your love song tone their rumble down.
Take Harlem’s heartbeat,
Make a drumbeat,
Put it on a record, let it whirl,
And while we listen to it play,
Dance with you till day—
Dance with you, my sweet brown Harlem girl.

When B/N finished he took a deep breath and smiled to himself. He had been practicing that one the most. He wanted to show you he had been working hard and that he really appreciated your help but his smile fell when he looked up to see your reaction. Your eyes were shut tightly and your body was highly tensed in your chair. His confidence immediately dropped. You had hated it. Did he get the rhythm wrong? Did he pronounce something incorrectly? You had been abnormally quiet the entire session and it was really bothering him. Was he doing that badly? He really had practiced like you asked. Maybe he just hadn’t practiced enough…

“I’m sorry,” B/N apologized, his tone heavy with disappointment, “What did I say wrong?”

You held your hand out signaling him to give you a second. You mentally counted backwards from ten to get your racing heart to calm. God, how had he been able to do that? He had never even touched you and you were already so close to coming undone just from the sound of his deep, husky voice uttering a few lines of poetry. It flowed over your skin, exciting every nerve it came across, as light as the caress of fingertips.

When you had gotten yourself under some kind of control, you opened your eyes and offered the anxious male across from you a small apologetic smile.

“You didn’t say anything wrong B/N,” she refuted softly but sincerely, “That was perfect. Go ahead and do the last few.”

The smile that dominated his face from your small praise had your heart racing almost as fast as his voice had. It was beautiful and had such an innocent joy behind it. This boy was going to be the death of you…

B/N attacked the next poem with new vigor, elated by your praise. His joy was short lived however as he continued with the next few poems. Your face was turned from him, your lips tight and your eyes concentrating fiercely on the clock on the far wall with your legs tucked tightly underneath you. He mistook your tension for annoyance as he moved through the pieces. You offered him no more verbal praise as he reached the end of each poem but simply motioned him on with your hand. By the time he finished the last piece, he was completely discouraged.

As soon as the last word was out of his mouth, you jumped up from your curled up position in the chair without so much as a look in his direction as you grabbed your wallet and keys and headed for the door. You had to get out of here, get away from him.

“I’ll email you what we’re going to do next week,” you hurriedly explained mid-stride, “I think that’s enough poetry. I’ll come up with something different.”

You grabbed the knob, the metal cool against your burning skin and pulled to open the door when a hand placed over the upper frame prevented the door from opening. You turned and met B/N’s deflated gaze as he slumped against the door frame, blocking your exit. He couldn’t hide his disappointment. You still had another hour left in the agreed session time, not that he had ever really worried about it before since you usually went over. You hadn’t even started a discussion about the poems themselves. He had done that badly and you were fed up with it. He ran his other hand through his dark hair, frustrated, not noticing your eyes dilate slightly at the gesture.

“We don’t have to stop poetry, please,” he implored, his eyes sad and his stature screaming defeat, “I’m so sorry. I’ll practice more. I’ll get it right. I actually really like it. I would like to get it right. Please don’t give up on me. I promise I’ll work harder. I’ll get it.”

You stared back at him silently as you hosted an internal debate inside of your head. He looked so upset. You couldn’t let him leave thinking he had done so badly. You knew he worked hard. You were consistently impressed with him every week. He never let you down and this week was no exception. It wasn’t his fault you couldn’t control yourself, but how did you say this without ruining your professional relationship…

“B/N, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you exclaimed, sighing as you crossed your arms tightly over your chest after setting your keys and wallet onto the small table by the door, “Your poetry was amazing. It was captivating, musical even. It was everything poetry was supposed to be and more. You completely surpassed my expectations, as usual. ”

“Wait, what?” B/N asked, standing up a little straighter at your revelation but now even more confused, “I thought you were annoyed with me or something I had said wrong. You’ve been acting differently today. If it isn’t my speech what is it? Are you okay?”

Were you okay? Ha. That was a very good question that you didn’t even know the answer to…

“No, B/N, your speech is excellent,” you corrected shaking your head and adverting your gaze from him, guilt and renewed heat overtaking you, “I just, I’m just distracted. I’m sorry. You deserve better than this. I promise I will be better next week. You just keep doing what you’ve been doing with studying and pretty soon you aren’t going to need me.”

“What’s distracting you?” he pressed, bending down to try and catch your eye again but you kept your eyes firmly on the ground, “You look upset.”

You ran a hand through your hair as you sighed deeply. Oh this was about to be so bad…

“B/N, I…I just,” you bit your lip as you struggled to find the right words, “Look, I know our relationship is strictly professional and I’m sorry I don’t want to violate your trust. I don’t want to cross a line. I just…You know good and well you’re a very attractive man and normally I can get past that. I mean our other sessions were fine…Today, I just…Your voice…The way you read poetry. God, B/N you were meant to read poetry. Your voice, the things it does to me. You, just you in general are too much for me today. I can’t take much more. I’m going to—”

You clamped your mouth shut as you realized you were saying way more than was necessary.  Your feet shuffled back and forth nervously as you took a deep breath and braved looking up at your employer. You could almost see the thought process happen in his eyes as the dots slowly began to connect. His eyes widened briefly as the implication of your words became clear before they narrowed on your face.

You braced yourself for his furious rebuttal. He was probably going to fire you. Could you blame him?

Instead of responding his hand began to slide slowly down the wooden door frame until it reached the dull golden lock. His gaze took on a new intensity that had your toes curling as he slowly turned the lock, separating you two from the rest of the outside world without breaking your stare. He moved to step towards you and you took a step back, fire surging through your blood.

You moved in sync until you backed into one of the study tables that had been on the opposite side of the room. You couldn’t move but he didn’t stop until he had you pinned tightly between the wood and his body. One of his hands rose to grip your jaw, not painfully but firmly, as the other wrapped around your waist. Without hesitation, he leaned forward to capture your lips in a kiss that took your breath away and would have had you in a puddle on the floor had you not been so tightly pinned to the table and had B/N’s hand wrapped tightly around your waist. Like his poetry, his lips were more than you could have imagined them to be, soft but hungry as they pulled fervently at yours. A quiet moan rose from the back of your throat as his tongue broke through your lips and quickly dominated yours. You lost yourself in the kiss as you desperately gripped each side of his jacket to have something to anchor yourself with.

All too soon, B/N broke the kiss as he pulled back from you slightly but his eyes remained closed as his tongue coated his lips as if savoring your taste. His eyes then slowly opened again to lock yours in another intense stare.

“If my voice has such an effect on you, I desperately want to see what I can do to you without saying another word.” There was no flaw in his English as the statement left his lips and his voice was even huskier as overwhelming desire began to build inside of him.

As if his voice didn’t already have you on the edge, his hand dropped from your waist to grip your ass firmly and pull you roughly forward to lock your pelvises together like two pieces of a sensitive puzzle. A louder moan dripped from your lips as you wrapped you leg around his upper thigh and pressed him even more tightly against you, forcing the pieces closer together, seeking more friction, more of him. God, it wasn’t enough. Nowhere close.

“More,” you quietly but greedily demanded as you rolled your hips into him and slid your hands over and around his abdomen to dig your fingers into the skin covering his back.

   A needy groan escaped his lips as your hips ground over his quickly growing erection, his grip tightening as he bent his head forward to capture the shell of your ear between his teeth.

“Oh yeah,” he breathed harshly into your ear, “That’s enough of me. For the remainder of this session we’re going to focus on that pretty little voice of yours…” 


~Fire