summary: your night job at taeyong’s strip club has always been a secret; it is how you are able to live well during your life at university. though, all is fine until a familiar face shows up at your work with surprisingly benevolent intentions.
❀ note: Guess what?! Its our mans birthday!! :D Happy birthday my love, Taeyong <33 this series will have one more member included! He’ll make an appearance in the first chapter :) Its going to be a love triangle huhu
The blasting sound of rhythmic music roared over your head as you hesitated in front of the flashy neon entrance. Your friend was standing by your side, face illuminated by the blazing lights, just as reluctant as you were while her hand rested on the handle. “Okay,” she breathed, “you ready?”
You cocked an eyebrow upwards at her, puzzled. “Why are you the one asking me if I’m ready? It was your idea to come here.”
“And it was that one guy’s idea to send us here!” she retaliated, defensive in her stance.
You rolled your eyes like a petulant child; she wasn’t wrong, after all. Your friend, Yuna, had been searching for a new club to linger in for a while—but none had caught her eye. After hearing a plethora of lifeless complaints from Yuna someone decided to come to her rescue. It was during a lunch break from the busy university when a passerby heard her petty grouses; it was a man who was fairly built, tousled hair to perfection. He leaned in and inquired her of the obvious, and by doing so he sparked Yuna’s match of ranting. It did not take long for the stranger to tell her of a vivacious nightclub downtown; the name rolled off the tongue. Blue Moon, it was called.
Knowing Yuna, the insane partier she was, her interest skyrocketed turbulently and she begged you to come along with her the following night. It took a while—a ton of irksome pesters and propositions prodding at your thoughts—but you finally gave in with a defeated sigh. After studying for hours on end and cooping yourself up in the apartment, it was time you took a night out with her.
So, there you were, half past nine at night, in a tight ivory dress, the extravagant material hugging your body perfectly. Yuna was dressed a few notches more fetching than you in the resplendent scale—quite revealing, if one were to be frank about her eye-catching attire.
“Just open the door,” you groaned and took another step to the entrance.
Yuna swallowed her breath before pulling on the entrance, and once the door had fully swung open to reveal the lively treasures within the area you realized something was off. The unclassy tunes had a heavier bass than imagined, there was a scent of cherry and sweat that swirled together in a whimsical harmony—oh, and each worker appeared to be half naked or in clothes tight enough, giving the appearance of a cut-off circulation.
The door closed softly behind you, muted heavily by the blaring music, and Yuna latched her arm around your own. She started to drag your across the nightclub like a doll she feared losing. It was hard to see from the dimmed lights and flashing multicolored strobes—it was especially difficult to not bump into other drunken patrons who wanted to waste their friday night like you and Yuna. Jocularity spread from person to person like a virus and the crowd became more hyped up by the second; though, you became more lost.
There was a rapturous applause and loud cheers all of a sudden, and you turned your head to find the spectacle, to which your jaw dropped at.
You rooted your feet into the ground, unable to believe the sight. Shit, the nightclub that man recommended left out one important factor.
Judging from the barely clad woman hanging upside down on a pole that reached for the sky, a bright smile on her face as her eyes remained closed like she was diving into a fantasy of her own on the compact stage, there was an outlandish sentiment dawning over you. If it was not for the loose change and crisp dollar bills flying onto the stage, her stunt would had given it all away.
The nightclub that unknown man spoke too fondly of—the club you were in that very moment—was a strip club.
Hello, everyone. It’s been a while since I last posted anything. I’ve been working on the story for several weeks, but I wouldn’t finish it without my dear petal, @little-black-dress-24. It all happened thanks to your idea, your patience with me constantly tormenting you to read this stuff. So, huge thank you, E. And E, I’m really sorry for my dramatic, aesthetic, perfectionist ass. Luv yeh. xx
I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Feel free to comment, share or at least like, if you fancy my work.
Harry is a lawyer and he is faced with the challenge of cooperating with his new boss. The boss turns out to be a beautiful woman. Word count: 9,500-ish
You were sitting in a comfortable armchair with a cappuccino in a white coffee cup, right in front of you on a coffee table. You took a deeper breath from time to time to relax your tense body. You weren’t scared but you were nervous, in a good way. Finally, you achieved one of your career goals. You applied for your dream job in one of the best prospering law companies in the UK. You were determined to achieve your goal and so it happened. You were the first and the youngest woman to become a CEO in the company.
It was your first day and you were waiting for one of the Board Members to officially introduce you to the team. Your head was full of ideas on how to expand and develop the company. You were very excited about the job to a point where you couldn’t sleep at night because you were so full of energy and excitement for the new things to come.
You looked at a golden chain watch on your wrist and realised you should have been called inside about 10 minutes ago. You were tapping your fingers on your knees in excitement when you heard a man shouting in the office you were about to enter in the next couple of minutes.
‘You promised me this job and you lied to me, John! You know very well that it’s me who should have been given this job, I worked my ass off and I deserve it!’ you heard.
Hearing this, you felt an uncomfortable cramp in your stomach and a wide smile disappeared from your face immediately. Is someone getting fired because you got this job? That certainly wasn’t a good start, you thought. Several seconds later, the door to the office opened with force and a man stormed out from the inside. He was tall, very lean, dressed in a tailor-made navy-blue suit, white shirt and a black tie. His face was furious; eyebrows frowned, lips pursed in anger. When he noticed you sitting next to the door, his eyes lingered on you for several seconds as he was walking by, like he was examining you, wondering who you might be. Then he laughed sarcastically, spitting a silent ‘Obviously…’ under his nose. He disappeared behind the door and you were called in by Mr. Stevens as it was your turn to meet in his office.
Warnings: Language, tiny bit of humour, masturbation,
phone sex, Sir!kink, dom!Sam, Soulless!Sam is a warning in itself.
A/N: Enjoy the fourth wall ;) This maaaay have a second part if everyone’s interested enough.This was also my first Soulless!Sam so I hope I did him justice.
Summary: You and the Winchesters
investigate one of John’s cold cases, only forcing the tension between you and
Sam to become dangerous.
fainted…straight into my arms. If you wanted attention, you could’ve asked.” - Phone sex – My Bloody Valentine – #Lexie’s
SPN Birthday Challenge @roxy-davenport
Investigating Cold Cases were one of your favourite things.
Unfortunately, you also fucking hated them.
There was also a wild difference between cold cases in the
real world, as you liked to call them, and cold cases in your world.
You were on one of John’s unsolved cases in Seattle with Sam
and Dean, stepping out of Baby and heading straight for the bar to relax. Today
had served absolutely no purpose. You had interviewed the relatives, the
friends, and had investigated the newly dead bodies as well as gone over the
old files from the case ten years ago. So far, you’d come up with nothing.
Sam was getting on your nerves, and Dean was just being
Detective Do stayed silent, in respect to your words and experience - finally. And with a small, silent sigh, you continued spilling the stories of your life, the stories of the lovers and all their doings that molded you into who you were today.
“I fled China that day in 1947. Jumped aboard a ship that took me to San Fransisco, sunny California, USA. There, I lived my first few years on the streets, molding my English into perfection and surviving on the sheer generosity of others. Until the day I finally scored work at a restaurant as a waitress, and my boss was nice enough to let me live in his basement until I had earned enough to get my own place. And just like that, I built my way up in life.
It was a warm spring day in 1956 when I stumbled upon amateur director Byun Baekhyun. His eyes widened when he spotted me and he was far from shy in that exact moment as he asked for my participation in his newest film where I was to co-star with an actor named Park Chanyeol. As I accepted this eager man’s proposal, I had no idea that during the process of making this film, I would become the center of a lethal, jealousy-driven love triangle.”
San Fransisco, California, USA, 1956
Baekhyun’s low, deeper than usual, voice drew the word out. You stared into Chanyeol’s dark, warm eyes with curiosity, your breath colliding with his as the both of you paused only millimeters apart, his heavy body lying over yours. It was odd to end a kiss scene right before the actual kiss, right?
“cut!” The former man finally announced after what seemed like hours. Without the usual smile or grin, Baekhyun shuffled out of his chair, eyes hard when he shot you and Chanyeol a quick glance before walking out of the studio, into the hall of wardrobes, taking a quick turn into what you knew was his own office. You parted from Chanyeol, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before you sat up on the bed, reaching your hand out to your assistant; a silent plea for your white robe. The other remaining members of the film crew seemed just as puzzled as yourself and your co-star.
Without trying to explain his old friend’s behavior, Chanyeol jumped to his feet, taking the robe offered to him with a quick smile to the crew member. “Thank you, Robert.”
He then offered you his hand and helped you to your own feet. Once on your feet, you cocked any eyebrow in the direction Baekhyun had stormed off into, throwing silent questions at your co-star who had known the slightly reserved director longer than you had. Chanyeol kept silent, instead grinning down at you the way only he could.
“Are you still up for tonight? I reserved a table at your favorite place.”
Summary: You keep seeing the same guy everywhere you go. In the coffee shop, on the streets, in your philosophy class. It’s getting to the point where you think he’s stalking you - only to realize that maybe there’s something much more mysterious at play here. (AU: Jongdae is your guardian angel)
In the chat we talked about how Russian!Jack would deal with the humidity and heat of summer in America.
Not well, is the answer.
(Featuring Jack’s pupper too!)
“My God,” Jack moaned, pressing the back of his hand against his sweaty forehead, “how do you live like this?”
“Well, first off, we don’t bitch and moan about it.” Rhys replied tersely from his perch on the couch, where he was busy twisting a vanilla and strawberry popsicle deftly between his bright pink lips. He was dressed lightly, in a pair of navy shorts and a breezy white dress shirt. His legs were bent under him as he lazily sucked on his popsicle, and the sight would have been arousing to Jack if not for the sweltering heat that was consuming him.
What a day for the air conditioner in Rhys’ fancy apartment to break.
“Why is….is the air like soup?” Jack groaned from his position on the floor. He looked positively unkempt, so far from his usual prime and polished appearance as Rhys’ bodyguard. His hair was wet with sweat, dark strands plastered against his forehead as sweat dripped down his tan skin, running uncomfortably all the way down his neck and to his exposed chest. He’d shed the thick charcoal suit he had been wearing and completely unbuttoned his stiff dress shirt, revealing his soaked undershirt and the necklace of interlocking gold rings hung low around his neck. Still he was suffering in the shimmering hot air that seemed to swarm all around him, and only his shred of dignity preventing him from stripping completely down to his boxers.
“That’s just how New York is in the summer. The real question is why don’t you own any clothes other than suits and jackets?” Rhys snarked from his position on the couch, hair moving lightly in the breeze from the small fan he had blowing directly on him. Sadly even the fan was little comfort to Jack, who merely slid further, back sticking to the hardwood floors, sweaty skin fogging up the glossy finish.
“I didn’t….I didn’t think it would get this hot,” Jack complained, scrunching up his face when his dog came clattering back into the living room, licking her muzzle clean of water from her dish. The black borzoi nuzzled her owner’s cheek affectionately, lapping at his sweaty face.
“Angel….нет, Фу!” Jack growled, grimacing as he eased her away. Usually he welcomed affection from his pet but the last thing he wanted right now was warm, humid tongue rubbing up against his skin. Angel whined, before turning and hopping up on the couch with Rhys and snuggling up to the omega’s flank.
“You’re so mean.” Rhys pouts, wrapping his arms around Angel and snuggling her close, letting her lick his face and bump her snout against his jawline.
“She is warm. I need to be less warm.” Jack moaned, rubbing his temples. Rhys frowned, petting Angel’s flank as he tilted his chin to the side.
“Mmmm, well, if you don’t mind swimming in your boxers, we could go out to the pool.” Rhys’ smiled perked up at the edges at the idea of his handsome bodyguard standing shirtless besides his magnificent pool. The omega himself, of course, relaxing in a comfortable chaise lounge, his thighs squeezed just right by his blue spandex briefs. A margarita in his hand, sunglasses inched down to get an eyeful of his alpha’s sculpted ass? Yum.
“As long as it is cool I will do anything.” Jack groused as he slowly sat up, his skin making a big show of peeling away from the sweaty hardwood. Rhys sucked off the last of his popsicle, eager as he hopped to his feet and ran off to change into a new swimsuit he’d bought a few days ago, already mentally noting to buy Jack an equally sexy pair to match.
New York summers weren’t exactly known for their mercy. Jack would have a lot of time to show his new suit off.
You had decided to call it an early night that night, not wanting to face Dean any more than you had to.
You got it. It was his job to protect you, and he wasn’t doing that when he was busy doing you. But if he was mad at himself, then that was his own problem, not yours.
When he didn’t want you, sure, it made your chest tighten but you weren’t going to push him, risking what you thought would be further embarrassment. No one made him rush up those stairs after you and pin you against your door. He made that choice–whether good or bad–and he had to live with it.
And for Christ’s sake, it was sex. It wasn’t like you two had killed anyone. And no one had showed up to kill you, so all was fine.
Or so you thought.
Dean was gone by the time you woke up the next morning, and when Cas arrived for his night shift, he showed up with a new partner–Benjamin–a man older than Cas with ashy skin and graying hair. He spoke quietly but with surety, and when you asked Cas where Dean was, you were informed that he was working overtime at the bureau getting ready for the trial on Monday, making sure all necessary precautions were in place.
Not that you doubted that, but Cas had no idea that Dean was clearly trying to avoid you.
It made your jaw clench and head shake. For the first time since it happened, you actually regretted sleeping with him. What had been such a great moment was squashed and destroyed by the fact that Dean didn’t want to even see you anymore.
You should never have made a move. You should have let things be. Sure, he finished it, but you had started it, and clearly that was a mistake. Because whatever it was that seemed to be growing between you two was now dead.
The saving grace to it all was that the trial was quickly approaching and this would all be over soon, and you would never have to see him again.
But as the weekend rolled on, there was a constant a sense of dread in your stomach. Reality had finally set in about what would happen Monday morning as Cas explained protocols–from the moment you left this house, until you were on the stand, you would be in a bulletproof vest with the bold FBI letters stitched across it. Before you even arrived to the courthouse, you would change cars, and do so again once you left, making sure that you weren’t being followed. While waiting to give your testimony, there would be several FBI agents escorting you around the courthouse. There would even be several female agents around so that you were never alone, not even in the bathroom.
By Sunday night, you were mere hours away from seeing Zazel again and being put on the stand. You forced yourself to replay the night in the parking garage, and the day at the flee market, remembering exactly what got you into this mess so that you could end it once and for all. You tried to once again find that fire that had burned inside you, the rage towards Zazel for ruining your life that helped you hold your head high and your will steel, but as the hours ticked by, your determination was waning.
You briefly wondered if Crowley would be there, but you doubted it. Though you had no idea what he looked like, you assumed the FBI did–but what if they didn’t? What if he sat in court as an unassuming spectator? What if he finally saw the woman who was threatening his empire–helping the man that had been trying to take him down since the moment his mother was murdered? Would he try anything? Or just stare you down while you were none the wiser?
You really didn’t know much about Crowley, though you knew enough by now that you were going to be challenging a man who had been spending the last three decades building a criminal empire that hadn’t been challenged until now.
Way to put a fucking target on your back.
There was still no guarantee that once the trial was over, and Zazel was-assuming–found guilty, that you would be able to return to your normal life. There was no promise that just because you finally held up your end of the deal, that you would get the happy-ever-after you so naively believed was waiting for you at the end of this ordeal when you signed your witness statement.
Because at the end of the day, you weren’t playing by the FBI’s rules. You were playing by Crowley’s.
Tomorrow morning you would take the stand, revealing yourself to the world. There was a fair chance that Crowley would come after you, and if that happened, there would be no returning to your normal life. You would be thrown into witness protection, given a new name, a new job, a whole new life where Y/F/N Y/L/N never existed.
You would never see your parents again, or be by your sister’s side once she finally got married, or sit on the sidelines and cheer her on as she walked across the stage as Doctor Lydia Y/L/N. You would miss Mike’s child–who was due only two months from now–or any nieces or nephews that would come after. Your life would be snatched away, with no chance of ever going back.
And as you in bed that night, you can’t stop the tears from prickling your eyes. With no one around to be strong for, you let yourself be weak. Because once you leave this room, you had to show the world that Zazel didn’t scare you, that Crowley was nothing but a name, and you, without a single doubt in your mind, would be there to take them down. You Y/F/N Y/L/N.
But no matter how much you tried to reassure yourself that tomorrow would go exactly as Dean had been promising since the day he knocked on your door, that tomorrow would finally bring an end to this living nightmare, you couldn’t stop the gnawing fear in your stomach that this was far from over.
Although Cisco had somewhat forgiven Barry Allen for the murder of his brother, Dante, the bitterness between them was still present. It was understandable to you, to be fair. Especially the part where he wouldn’t go back and save him (like he did with his parents)- that’s what made Cisco the most angry. The idea that he’d risk anything to go and save his own family but would refuse to save his friends.
Barry, however, was truly sorry. You could see the guilt eating away at him, depriving him of a full nights sleep or a genuine smile. He was trying with all of his effort to save the city and save his friendship but he just couldn’t seem to choose which one to prioritise.
You and the group attempted to help him out and make amends with Cisco- to finally get the group back together again but nothing worked. It was like he could see right through you, he knew exactly what you were doing.
You hated seeing Cisco, the excitable, movie loving, beautifully nerdy bio-engineer, upset. But he was broken, torn apart by his brothers death and, due to the messed up timeline, the responsibility was Barry’s. If Barry wasn’t so selfish, Dante would still be alive. For the safety and the sanity of the team, they needed to make up.
That’s why, when everything with the Dominators was over, Barry arranged for a group road trip to the beach. He hoped that it would lift the tension and lighten the mood.
So that’s what happened. Barry hired an ironically red mini-van and gathered up the team (including HR and Joe), for a trip to the coast. You had somehow bribed your aunt to lend you her beach house for a few days. It was a beautiful, spacious house on the coast with six bedrooms and an uplifting aura.
“Everyone give it up for America’s favourite fighting Frenchman!” You, along with Iris, Barry and even HR, shouted out, a large grin on your face.
You were around an hour into the journey, only coping by singing along to the Hamilton soundtrack and laughing at anything and everything.
Joe, as self-proclaimed father of the group, was the designated driver, with HR riding shotgun and being in control of the music. The middle row was Barry, Iris and Caitlin. You rode with Cisco and Wally in the back of the van.
Whilst the majority of the group were laughing and messing around, Cisco didn’t bare one smile. Secondly to you, Wally noticed the mans discomfort and nudged him with his elbow. Cisco frowned.
“C’mon man, this is your favourite song!” Wally pointed out, his wide smile fading.
“Excuse me if i’m not jumping for joy,” Replied Cisco, in a low murmur. Annoyed, he folded his arms and frowned.
Iris glanced back for a moment, looking over Barry’s arm that was over the back of her seat, “At least try and be happy, Cisco,” She said, her voice drowned in sympathy, “Barry arranged the whole trip.”
“Which is why i’m not happy.”
You could only imagine the upset from on Barrys face from the last statement and, Caitlin obviously did, spinning around with a little frown, “Cisco..”
“Hey, HR?” you called from the your seat, leaning over to be closer to him,
“Yes, (Y/N)? HR Wells at your merry service!” He shuffled around in his seat, bearing his large grin at you.
“Switch the disc and play Cabinet Battle number one!” As he obliged, you leaned your chin onto Cisco’s shoulder and murmured to him, “You’re gonna have to take the part of Hamilton in this. Otherwise, i’ll be left in a rap battle with Caitlin and we all know how well that went last time.”
He glanced at you with a pleading look but the wall eventually dropped as you pouted your lower lip. The pair of you put on quite the performance.
Four hours after you had arrived at the beach house, you were still at the beach. A blanket of black had taken over the bright blue of the sky, sparkling freckles littering its complexion. Bar Cisco, you had all gathered around a campfire with HR giving you all a step by step tutorial on how to make smores. It’s not like you didn’t already know, but it kept him happy.
Your eyes couldn’t stop flickering over to the man who’s smile you craved. Cisco was sat alone maybe 200 feet from the rest of the group, glancing out across the water. You decided to put an end to his sorrow. Handing your smore to Joe, you stood and quietly walked over to the Bio-engineer before sitting down next to him, bringing your knees up to your chest and tugging your, his, hoodie over your hands.
“I hope you don’t mind that i took this. It was on the sofa and i just grabbed it. To be fair it could’ve been Barry’s.”
Cisco scoffed and shook his head. You could see his watery eyes in the gentle moonlight, “Enough about Barry!” He was irritated and upset, you could tell through his shaky voice and small posture, “Everything’s always about Barry! Sure, he’s The Flash, but it’s always about him! Everyone is always so in love with Barry! Yeah, well news flash, he’s not such a big hero, is he?!”
You raised to your knees, kneeling in front of him and cupping a side of his face, your thumb running over his cheekbone, smudging a tear drop, “I know. Okay? I know, and i’m just as upset at him as you are.”
Cisco leaned back to take a good look at you. Your hair was all textured and wavy from the sea, thrown up into a messy bun. Your face lacked makeup but it was gorgeous anyway. On your body was your white summer dress, but with his Navy STAR labs zip-up over the top, “Your brother didn’t die because of him, (Y/N).”
You stayed silent for a moment, lightly tracing your fingernails over his scalp as you combed his hair back, feeling his hands grip your hips.
“I hate seeing you like this, Francisco,” You eventually said, laying your forehead down on his, “and i’m sure Dante would never want you to be this torn up.”
“I-” Cisco was about to speak before he shook his head and closed his mouth.
“This is me, Francisco. You can talk to me. Talk to me please. i wont allow you to grieve alone.”
“It just doesn’t feel real. I feel like he’s just gonna come home and take over mama’s heart again. Instead she’s just crying, she doesn’t do anything but cry. Dante made us all so happy, even if he was a bit of an ass.” Cisco sighed, rubbing his thumbs in circles on your hips.
“I know, mi amor. Dante would still want you to smile. If not for him, please try for me. Come have fun with us, i’m sure HR saved you a smore.”
Cisco ran his hands over his face, a breathy chuckle coming from his mouth, “I know one thing that would make me smile.”
“Yeah,” He walked you closer to him so that you were straddling his lap, craning his neck up to press his lips softly against yours. You instantly kissed him back, arms wrapping around his neck. His touch on your hips was so gentle, and his kiss awoke all of the butterflies in your stomach, making your tummy do flips and turns.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but i think we may have over-smored your smore,” You heard HR’s voice, forcing you to pull away from the kiss that you could stay in all night. Cisco pushed his face into your neck, a light laugh shaking his body against yours. And oh, how you loved that noise.