the glasses and the suit and the smoking and ..

russian classical authors like guys from high school 

(just some of them, both novelists and poets)

Pushkin: popular guy who’s  good at freestyle rap, untrustworthy lady’s man, the main editor and the founder of school’s newspaper, fluent in french

Lermontov: Emo, loves the most popular girl in school, but also hates her (and the rest of the school too), reckless, likes mountains and the idea of spirit of freedom, good at painting, but nobody knows.

Leo Tolstoy: teachers hates his essays bc they’re too long, writes text in half-page long sentences, cheated on his girlfriend several times.

Gogol: some dudes are mocking him bc of his nose and haircut, has good sense of humour, writes satirical articles for school’s newspaper, loves everything his mom cooks.

Dostoyevsky: likes to stay in the shadow, had difficult childhood, once forgot to return a pen he had borrowed and can’t sleep well at night ever since, poor, hates bright colours

Kuprin: desperately falls in love with everybody, constantly writes lots of love letters, buys expensive jewlery to his girlfriend.

Griboyedov: natural born diplomat, sharp-witted, mood swings, travelled to middle asia once, wears glasses and fancy scarfs.

Bulgakov: smokes tobacco pipe, likes black cats and tweed suits, wears monocle and lots of hair gel, mysterious, walks a lot at night.

Esenin: underage alcoholic, an actual hillbilly, girls always love his hair, spends at least one month in the summer in the coutnryside with his grandparents, always ready to fight.

Mayakovsky: tall and loud, talks about weird futuristic shit a lot, always makes up new strange words, good at debates and discussions, depressed deeply inside, somehow handsome.

Air Witchcraft: Tools & Associations

Tools: Athame and Knives, Balloons, Batons, Bells, Besoms and Brooms, Blankets and Sheets, Books and Journals, Bows and Arrows, Breath, Brushes, Bubble Wands, Cotton and Cotton Balls, Curtains, Dance, Dowsing Rods/Poles, Dream Journals, Dream Sachets, Earbuds and Headphones, Fallen Leaves, Fans, Feathers, Feather Dusters, Hammocks, Incense, Kites, Knitting Needles, Knots, Lace, Linen, Masks, Microphones, Mirrors, Music and Musical Instruments, Muslin, Needle and Thread, Paintbrushes, Paper and Parchment, Pendulums, Pens and Pencils, Perfume, Pillows, Pinwheels, Poetry and Written Word, Powders (make up, baby, etc), Quills, Reflective Objects/Reflections, Ribbons, Scarves, Scourge and Whips, Smoke, Soft Things, Song/Voice, Spindle ,Staffs and Poles, String, Strong Scents and Fragrances ,Sword, Swords Suit Tarot Cards, Tree Branches and Twig, Wands, Whistles, Wind chimes 

Colors: Yellow, Blue, Sky Blue, Silver, White, Lavender/Light Purple, Gray, Turquoise and Violet

Corresponds to: Divination, thought, mental power, astral, clairvoyance/psychic abilities, travel, communication, creation, creativity, inspiration, freedom, joy and happiness, laughter, new beginnings, change, teaching and learning, dreams

Crystals: Mica, pumice, fluorite, turquoise, diamond, quartz, aventurine, azurite, goldstone, celestite, citrine, dream quartz, aura quartz, fuchisite, lapis lazuli, glass crystals/marbles

Metals: Iron, tin, copper, aluminum

*Plants & Trees: Acacia, (Gum) Arabic, Alder, Almond, Alyssum, Anise, Apricot, Aspen, Baby’s Breath, Bamboo, Bezoin, Bergamont Mint, Bluebell, Citron, Cottonwood, Dandelion, Endive, Eucalyptus, Eyebright, Goldenrod, Hazel, Lavender, Lemon, Lemon Grass, Lemon Verbena, Lilac, Lungwort, Mace, Marjoram, (Gum) Mastic, Mistletoe, Nutmeg, Olive, Oregano, Parsley, Peach, Pecan, Peppermint, Pine, Pistachio, Rice, Sage, Star Anise, Snow Pea, Sweet Pea, Tangerine and Willow

*research plants, herbs and trees before burning, ingesting or using on skin for some are toxic and even lethal

Animals: Birds of all kinds, hawk, eagle, owl, moth, butterfly, bat, dragonfly, spider, crickets, bees, wasp, most flying insects, horse

Elementals and Creatures/Beasts: Pegasus, Griffon, Hippogriff, Sylph, Fairies, Angels, Sirens, Harpies, Gremlin, Garuda, Winged Unicorns, Lightning Bird, most flying creatures/beasts, most/all Dream related entities

Sense: Smell, Hearing

Body: Mind/Brain, Head, Nose, Lungs, Throat, Ears, Hair

Air Related Magick: Art, Written, Verbal/Spoken, Dream Work, Astral, Song/Music, Storm and Weather, Flying, Illusion, Glamour, Mirror and Divination, Incense

wonderwomen aesthetics
  • diana prince: the tilt of a head excited for battle, dimples showing in the light; a baby held tightly to the chest, swaddled in one's own fur cape; fireworks that streak the sky in red and gold; the beat and beat of bare feet on a wooded path; the crumble of beaten rock; the sweetness of vanilla on a virgin tongue; the triumph in a warrior's laugh; the scent of flowers wafting over a torn-up battlefield; ropes, tightly coiled and hung up on the walls; the quiet huff of a well-fed horse.
  • hippolyta: soft furs covering wooden furniture; plates and vases neatly displayed, polished to a shine; a soft smile, barely curving the mouth; the scent of cut grass, mingled with the fresh sea air; a longsword held aloft, glinting in the golden light; golden hair tumbling loosely over a tired shoulder; the sense of faith; a kiss on a child's button nose; pastries that crumble in one's mouth and leave sweetness in their wake; a mother bear sleeping curled about her cubs; the pleasant heat of a shared fire.
  • antiope: hoofbeats on a distant beach; warlike cries under blue-streaked skies; the smack of flesh on leather armour; the aching heat of hard-worked muscles; a savage grin streaked with drops of blood; long hair braided to a military tightness; a grunt of satisfaction when a student finally learns; a burst of sparks from a blade still on the forge; white teeth that tear into fresh-baked bread; a lioness keeping sentinel on an open savannah; molten silver on the ground; the shaking readiness of a bowstring pulled taut.
  • isabel maru: the sound of glass shattering under pressure; a smile that stings, but is still worth smiling; rubber gloves that cling to the elbow; hot broth that burns hot upon the tongue and in the throat; the sudden burst of thunder overhead; the burn of smoke in desperate nostrils; the bite of savage fire at gloved fingers; a laugh heard over a rippling explosion; a sickly yellow that stays in the mind; nightmares that end in shaking forms and ragged screams; a mushroom cloud on the horizon - too close for comfort.
  • etta candy: a sensible wool suit, hanging in an antique wardrobe; the taste of a boiled sweet on one's tongue, clicking against one's back teeth; the cosiness of a warm room and a good book as rain falls outside; the regular click and clack of a (mostly) functional typewriter; a sudden giggle, stifled into a snort; sensible shoes; the whistle of a boiling kettle, followed by the scent of steeping tea; a diary full of looping, neat script; a broad smile over fresh scones.

“hows it goin?” the guy asked, smoke snaking from his mouth.

“fine.” you answered, looking the guy up and down, “little hot to be wearing a suit isnt it?”

“i always wear a suit.” he stated.

“does this bad boy thing work on all the girls? show up in a nice suit, cute glasses that scream sophistication and a smoke.”

“i dont know.” the guy sat next to you, “is it working?”

Raúl Esparza Art Masterlist

Law & Order: SVU

Behind the scenes of SVU

Law & Order: Criminal Intent

Law & Order


Trouble in the Heights


Pushing Daisies

Tick, Tick … Boom!

Leap of Faith





Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Sunday in the Park with George

Rocky Horror Show

Anyone Can Whistle

My Soul To Take

Raúl Esparza


My friends, I finally decided to make a masterpost for my Raúl Esparza and Broadway drawings. This post shows my development as an artis, since I came over here from the Fassbender fandom. It contains old and new ones, as well as good and bad. I thought of deleting the bad ones first, but then I realized, that they are also an important part of my journey, so I kept them. Yet there are a few I left out on purpose, but they weren’t important anyway. I hope you find joy in this post and I wanna thank all my friends in the Raúl Esparza fandom, who always support me and are there whenever I need them. I love to draw for each and everyone of you! :-*

PS: Please excuse any typos. I can’t believe I’ve made so many drawings by now!!


“Heirs: Tiptoed love”  (Chapter 2)  - [A Jeremy Irons/Tom Hiddleston/Sebastian Stan  story].

Written by: A.Wölf. 

Previous chapter“Heirs: The Scent of Revenge”.


Jeremy blew out the cigarette smoke while staring at the full moon reflecting on the sea, from the balcony of his beach house.

He was leaning against the doorway with a glass of scotch in one hand, wearing yet another black suit and bow tie for yet another important event, only this time, he’d be the host. He was simply enjoying the solitude and silence before the arrival of his guests at one of the many places he called home. Taking one last drag, he threw the cigarette butt in the glass.

“You promised mom you’d quit”, a male voice said.

Jeremy raised his eyebrows and turned his head towards the living room to see his youngest son, Sebastian, walking in, and it immediately put a smile on his face.

“I said I’d try”, he sang while walking towards the piano to leave the glass on the lid, “And I did for two days but I became quite… intolerable”.

Sebastian joined his father in the middle of the room, returning his mischievous smile before Jeremy pulled him into a tight embrace while letting out a chuckle.

“My son”, Jeremy said before pulling away but still grabbing his arms and staring straight into his eyes, “let me look at you. How long has it been?”

“Three Christmases”.

“Good God”.

Jeremy walked towards the serving cart, and Sebastian frowned at the empty glass on the piano lid before picking it up to see a ring stain on the piano lid.

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The Mrs. 1

Pairing: (Mobster) Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Warning: Swearing. Gangster Shit. Sass. Physical Harm. Cat Fights. Law Breaking. Lying. Scandal. Mob Boss Shit.

A/N: Italicized pieces are basically Narrative parts.

When you met Gary Unwin, your brother Charlie on his pay roll. You thought the Mob Boss of London would be scarier. A man with his reputation, a girl like you shouldn’t be caught dead with him, but you don’t care. Being Eggsy’s dame came with a lot of perks and you only ask one thing of him. “Stay out of jail.” But any Mobster’s girl should know, they can’t keep their word. When Eggsy goes away, the crew looks to you for orders. Can you stand with your man or is Mob life just not for you?

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happy birthday @amorverus! enjoy prince of hell magnus with guns and magic for your birthday ❤️

guns and magic au.

they’d been driving for days, magnus was fairly sure he had lost count of how many. four he thought but he couldn’t tell anymore, not when the mossy woods outside the car had kept repeating and the motel rooms they stayed in all felt exactly the same. they were the hunters now but it felt like they were being watched anyway. it had felt like they were being watched since he put four magic laced slugs into his father’s chest and sent him back to hell where he belonged.

feeling as though the walls had eyes didn’t discourage him though. his fathers siblings and their spies could watch them all they wanted, they could keep an eye on what they were doing by whatever means they deemed necessary. it wouldn’t stop what was coming for them. it wouldn’t stop him and alec from finding them and finishing this for good. six more names, six more bodies to banish. it wouldn’t be easy, but it was the only way.

it wasn’t going to stop them and it hadn’t as they pulled up at the side of the road, magnus slipping out of the car and staring into the thick trees. hazy sunlight was filtering through the foliage and like most forest, it looked both beautiful and inviting, but horribly still and foreboding at the same time. magnus leaned against the car for a moment, watching as alec let excalifur out of the back. alec’s fingers turned white at the tip as he gripped the car door and slammed it shut with a little too much force.

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anonymous asked:

can you do some st/it crossover headcanons?

aa, good shit! sure thing! my twin @eddiesghost helped out and you should totally check her out! or else.

  • okay, first off, imagine eleven owning pennywise? good shit right there.
  • here me out; will and eddie are so similar in so many freaking ways. both the smallest out of the group, but also yet sensitive and strong. they think they are the weakest but the others knows that it ain’t true. they also dealt with the same type of bullying. [ex. their sexuality.]
  • mike wheeler and bill denbrough would be close friends. they are both the leaders of their group with a similar hero complex. they are also both all about self-sacrifice. [ex. bill willing to die for the losers in the sewers and mike willing to jump off of the cliff for dustin.]
  • mike and richie will definitely roast the fuck out of each other. mostly the ladder though.

richie: frog face.

mike: you look just like me!

eddie: you know richie, you kinda do look like a frog too. got the eyes and everything.

  • stan and lucas will of course have an understanding. stan having to deal with richie while lucas has to deal with dustin. also, they are the sassy ones out of the group. after every time stan tells richie to shut up or even deny his high fives, lucas will turn around and clap stan on the back.
  • the losers teaching eleven how to say ‘beep beep’ to richie. she uses it whenever he speaks, even when he isn’t being annoying. mike barely uses it since it feels like hes telling himself to shut up.
  • beverly and eleven would have each others back, both are thrilled to have another female in the group. think about it; they’re both badass as fuck and are also so much stronger than their trauma. 
  • if you think dustin and richie won’t get along you are lying to yourself. 
  • whenever they say ‘mike” both mike hanlon and wheeler will turn their heads around, all confused. it always happens and its a huge problem, until richie comes up with an idea.

richie: i have an idea. why don’t we just refer to him as frog face to save ourselves the confusion!

eleven: beep beep, richie.

  • okay but richie would roast mike at any chance hes got. 

richie: what’s with the christmas sweaters? it’s summer. 

bill: i luh-like them.

richie: yeah, you’re right. it’s pretty cool.

mike: *internally* he doesn’t like my clothes? has he seen the way he dresses?

  • joyce hopper would adopt all of the losers and be that one guardian.
  • they own the fucking streets with their bikes. 
  • richie and mike will lowkey race each other to see who’s the fastest, only for big bill to win in the end.
  • ben fucking hanscom will woo all of the adults, including steve, nancy and jonathan with his poetry. don’t lie. 
  • steve will probably ask ben a few pointers.
  • whenever the losers are over at the wheeler’s residences, mike offers to help karen bake a few goods while stan insists on prepping the table. karen on the inside finds the entire event to be so pure.
  • they all get together playing some childhood game, while stan and el are gazing up at the sky and stan takes the time to explain all the different types of birds. 
  • eleven dropping an f-bomb one day because of richie. mike’s disappointed and asking where she learned that from and she immediately points at richie while dustin thinks it makes her more badass.
  • eddie has an asthma attack one day and richie isn’t around, so mike helps him calm down. richie comes back to see them crouching together and carelessly shoves mike aside before stating ‘that’s not your job.’
  • every male loser in the club is intimidated by max while beverly finds her to be cool.
  • max, eleven and beverly are a fucking team. girl power all the way! 
  • jonathan would totally show both bill and ben how to take pictures. its something they pass down to beverly and the rest. their bedrooms full of pictures of the club and its wholesome as fuck.
  • hopper would pay a dollar to beverly every day to stop her from smoking. 
  • mike loses a dare and dustin dared him to wear richie’s glasses. mike makes a comment that richie’s blind as a bat, eddie jokes that he can’t tell which one is richie which offends richie a lot. eleven thinks its cute and giggles along with beverly. will says that it suits him and smiles, along with ben who’s nodding. stan and bill are both making comments on how he looks hotter than richie, with causes both hanlon and lucas’ to laugh but eventually roll their eyes at richie’s outburst. max would be sarcastic as fuck and be all ‘wow i’ve never seen you look cooler dude.’ which has everyone in the room dying of laughter.

“Gentlemen Don’t Kiss and Tell” - [Keanu Reeves/Tom Hiddleston - One Shot].

Based on: Imagine: When your first husband, Keanu, gets in touch all of a sudden, you start emailing each other often, just being friendly. After the two of you got divorced, he never married again, you never even heard about him being in a serious relationship. On his birthday, you decide to show up at his place just so he won’t spend it alone. When you come home to your current husband, Tom, he’s waiting for you with your laptop and all the emails on the screen that he found while using it. Knowing that you’re talking to your ex, enrages him and makes him assume that every time you’re out, you’re with him having the time of your life, and Tom’s so upset he even calls himself a fool for loving you.

Written by: A.Wölf.

Notes: I’ve decided to address Keanu by his middle name, ‘Charles’, in this story. I don’t know, i was just more comfortable with it. Also there’s 1 POV change, and a few visuals.


It started with a package and a wrong address.

My old address actually.

Work was a mess. I would’ve lost my head if it wasn’t attached. Everyone rushed around, the phones wouldn’t stop ringing, and the stacks of paper on my desk were starting to resemble skyscrapers. So with a bit of sleep-deprivation and trying to function on one too many espressos on top of it all, I was more than likely to make a mistake.

It was a little after seven in the morning when, with yet another caffeinated drink in hand and taking sips of it, I went through my emails. But a sudden notification of something new in my inbox caught my attention.

I set my mug on the desk and stared at the computer when I read the sender’s address. I might’ve clicked on it a bit faster than I’d like to admit.

I covered my face with my right hand.

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Marichat May Day 14 - Age-Up Chat Noir

Chat gets hit with by an akuma who makes people look like they aged ten years. Marinette can not handle how attractive she finds a twenty-five looking Chat Noir.

Rated T || 1,837 Words

Cross posted on Ao3 || FF

Cut Glass

The akuma should have been a quick fight, considering its powers were relatively weak. All Age-Bender did was give people the look that they’d aged ten years. Unfortunately for Paris’s two heroes, a simple fight is not what happened. Apparently, five years of judo as a civilian makes up for lame powers as an akuma.

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Intoxication [Mature]

Originally posted by couplenotes

Pairing: Eisuke Ichinomiya (KBTBB) x Reader
Genre: Fluff + Smut
Word Count: 6,636
Warnings: Not entirely sober sex
PC Users: Add InteractiveFics as a Google Chrome Extension to replace ‘Y/N’ with your name for a more personalised reading experience.

“I never would’ve guessed it.” Ota smiled softly into his beer bottle, chuckling despite his lack of amusement at the situation. “Eisuke Ichinomiya is just like any one of the common men in the streets. Insecure, worried and entirely controlled by his genitals.”

“I am not controlled by my genitals.” Eisuke argued, swilling his whiskey around in the bottom of his glass. “What I am controlled by are those god damn breasts of hers.” He sighed looking down into the amber liquid in his glass.

“She does have a pretty great rack.” Mamo piped up as he breathed out a line of smoke, flicking ash into a tray on the bar. Eisuke shot the dishevelled detective a glare but didn’t have the energy to argue with him. Instead, he started contemplating his attraction to the mounds on her god-forsaken chest.

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meet me in new york - lorraine/delphine (atomic blonde)

lorraine meets delphine in new york (1100+ k)

-fluff and smut (delphine’s alive and reads lorraine her poetry)

also on ao3!

Lorraine’s spiked stilettos click clack on the spiraling metal stairs, the small sounds becoming a booming echo throughout the cavernous stairwell. Her hand, pale and slender, elegant but blanketed with fading bruises, pinches a long cigarette between two fingers as it trails lightly on the wrought iron roses of the handrail. She’s chosen this building, an anonymous twelve story New York walk-up, well past it’s prime, as her permanent residence.

It’s former glory is faded. The bricks are crumbling, the richly patterned wallpaper stained. Fallen and broken bits of glass from a dusty chandelier lay on the marble floor. Years ago this building would have been filled nightly with New York’s elite, networking and socializing and ladder-climbing, but not anymore. Now it’s perfect. No one will find her here.

Lorraine reaches the eleventh floor and turns left. She approaches the corner suite that she’s decided to claim and jiggles the sticky glass doorknob vigorously until the door shoots open. Once inside the door frame she allows herself to relax, sighing and slumping against the wall as she pulls her pumps off. She throws her vinyl jacket onto an antique, moth-eaten embroidered chair, reaches down to massage her aching feet, and then walks slowly into the room, hand on the back of her neck. She sucks in a deep lungful of smoke and slowly exhales it into the dim room. Despite all of the new propaganda about smoking being bad for you, she doubts she’ll ever give it up.

Mon cheri?” A husky voice unfurls from the darkness. A shadow materializes, walking slowly towards Lorraine. Light from a lone street lamp filters softly through the large, cracked bay window to reveal Delphine’s face.

Delphine smiles slowly, seductively, but secret relief shines in her eyes. “You made it.”

“Of course.” The corners of Lorraine’s lips twitch upward.

“I have been waiting for you.”

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Never Have I Ever // Jack Maynard

Word Count-  795

Summary- Just a small imagine. Please leave feedback on my writing, I’d love to hear from you! x

Warnings; A few swear words, sorry! It just was a bit more realistic I think with them in.

A/n; Thank you so much for 100+ followers! Hope it’s okay I combined these two requests, they were originally two different ones but they were way shorter than I wanted them to be so I made it one. Thanks for requesting x

Requested; Yes, Prompt requests.

➳ 59 with jack xxx // 59. …or we could make out…. 

➳ Can you do 86 with jack???? // 86.  You’ve never smoked anything in your life. 

You sat in the living room of the flat your shared with your best friend Jack, with all of his (and your) friends; the buttercream gang. You were all sipping your drinks, chatting lightly before a tipsy Caspar decided he wanted to play a bit of Never have I ever. You all were bored, and didn’t plan to head out to the club tonight as it was just one of those stay-in type of nights, and decided it was a good idea. Not that it was, just your slightly-drunken minds couldn’t process that you were all about to humiliate yourselves. That’s what friends were for, right? Humiliating yourself? No? Okay, nevermind.

Anyways, you all gathered in a circle, putting down the drinks. Jack grabbed a bunch of shot glasses you kept for these occasions and Conor filled them all up. “Alright, you lads know the rules. If you’ve done it, you drink. If you haven’t, you don’t.” You confirmed, earning a nod and murmur of agreement. “Right. Never have I ever..” Conor started, and the game progressed quite slowly. A few shots were taken here and there, it was pretty boring.

“Never Have I Ever smoked anything.” Joe said, smirking. You filled up your glass and downed it, earning a surprised look from the others. “Y/N? Why’d you take a shot? You’ve never smoked anything in your life.” Jack said, concerned. You rolled your eyes. “Calm down, Jack. Just because you weren’t there, didn’t mean it hasn’t happened.” You said, rolling your eyes. “When?” Jack said, almost demanding. You didn’t understand why. “It was back in Year 8 I think, I smoked a small cigarette here and there. It’s not that big of a deal.” You shrugged, not bothered.

“Y/N, of course it’s a big deal! Those things kill!” Jack yelled, standing up. You followed suit, and the other boys awkwardly excused themselves and left the room and retreated to the kitchen. “I’m still here, aren’t I? Why do you care so much, Jack? It was years ago!” You said, exasperated. You frowned, and Jack ran a frustrated hand over his face. “Because I care, okay?” He yelled, making you flinch. He hardly raised his voice with you, unless it was playfully.

His eyes softened as he saw you flinch. Guilt filled his eyes. “Y/N, I care, okay? You’re not only my best friend, you’ve been there for me my whole life. I can’t even imagine a life without you. I’m sorry if I seem pushy or clingy but you mean a lot to me. I love you!” Jack admitted, all in one breath. By the end you could tell he was flustered. You could only blink as you processed it. You couldn’t manage words. He loved you?

He seemed to realize what he had said too. “Shit. Y/N, I..” He said, his heartbreak evident. You were still in a state of shock, but snapped out when Jack moved to leave. You ran up to him and spun him to face you, barely registering the confusion in his eyes before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him into a passionate kiss.

The kiss got a bit heated, and by now you were full on making out. You probably wouldn’t have stopped if it weren’t for Joe coming in and yelling “Shit! Sorry!” and leaving quickly, and if that didn’t ruin the moment, Conor peaked around the corner and shouted “Get some, Jack!”

“Fuck off, Conor.” Jack muttered, cheeks flushed. Conor shrugged and retreated back to the kitchen, laughing with the rest of the boys. “C’mon, let’s get back to the ‘party’ before they break something.” You laughed, grabbing Jack’s hand and attempting to pull him. He pulled you right back into his arms, looking into your eyes with a look of pure adoration.

“…or we could make out….” Jack said cheekily, leaning in for a kiss. You played along, but only gave him a quick peck. “Nice try, pretty boy.” You said, running off into the kitchen to meet with the other boys. You heard Jack groan, but nonetheless followed you. “Who’s up for movies instead? We’ve probably consumed enough alcohol for bad hangovers.” You suggested, earning a cheer from the other boys.

You spent the rest of the night cuddled into Jack’s side, playing with the hem of his shirt, while he played with your hair. You hardly paid any attention to the movie, and quickly found yourself drifting off. “Go to sleep, love.” Jack whispered in your ear, you smiling. His recurring nickname never meant much to you, but now it meant the world. You fell asleep listening to the quiet laughter of the boys and Jack’s heartbeat, sighing contently. This was where you wanted to be.

anonymous asked:

"I love you,I promise that you never get hurt" + tae from bts mafia!au? Pleaase

How did you get into this mess?

If you knew it will end this way, you will not even try, or hope for this relationship to work.


Your eyes wandering around the old looking bar wildly, half scanning the new place, half trying to find a seat. You drag your feet on the wooden floor slowly, and sit on the stool, eyes still looking around. Not many people are here, making it one of the calmest bar you have ever been. Only the occasional sound of glasses, clicks of lighters, people talking, and the oldies being played by a live band. This place looks like it comes straight out from the 50’s, complete with the old furniture and decorations.

You glance at the right side of the bar. There is a small vintage stage, with a group of middle aged men and women playing some oldies and classics.

“What do you want to drink, young lady?” A bartender’s voice makes you snap your head back to the front. Before you is a young man, with an amazing physique, not too muscular or too skinny. His brown hair is parted into 5:2, neatly combed. He is wearing a white shirt with a small bow tie around the collar. His face showing much interest to you, making you avert away your eyes instantly from him.

You hesitate, “One perfect martini, please.”

“Anything for the lady,” he turns on his heels and begins mixing the drink. Seconds later, he places a cocktail glass, filled with clear liquid in front of you, complete with a fresh green olive.

You glue your eyes to the old oak bar table in front of you. You rest your hands on it, intertwining both of your hands with each other. Your tongue stiffens, making you unable to produce any words out. You slightly nods your head and pulls the drink closer to your body.

“What’s a young lady like you doing here, all alone?” The bartender asks, breaking the silence. He is standing, showing his back as he wipes some glasses behind the bar.

Sipping some drink from the glass lips, you say, “Just bored. And this is quite an interesting place too, it’s quiet.”

“Yeah, it’s not that popular. The owner is the third generation to run this bar. He doesn’t want to do any changes to it, keeping it still like before. This place was once very popular, back in the 50’s. But I guess people want change. So lesser people come. Only the regulars will keep coming here,” he explains. He walks to the shelf and arrange the glasses neatly, still not facing you.

Suddenly, you feel a figure silently takes a seat right next to you. You can see at the corner of your eyes, he is wearing a suit and a fedora hat, as he is smoking a cigar.

The bartender turns around, and as soon he lays he eyes on the man beside you, his body freezes. Clouds of smoke float around the man’s face, making him appear mysterious.

“Sir, how can I help you?” The bartender’s tone sounds serious. His expression show such emotion that you cannot define.

The man clears his throat before speaking, “A glass of whiskey, please.”

His deep husky voice makes your heart beat quickens. Your curiosity grows, but your eyes still on the your glass, as if the glass is a lot more attractive than him.

Without a word, the bartender quickly place the golden colored drink on the table, and disappears from the scene, leaving you and the man at the bar. You would be lying if you say that you do not feel nervous.

“I’m Taehyung,” the man speaks up.

At that remark, you bravely turn your head to face him, and God, he is such a masterpiece.

High bridge nose, piercing stare from his brown eyes, that perfectly arched eyebrows, and lips, wrapped around that cigar. His side profile is just so perfect, that you did not notice you are staring.

“Enjoying the view?” His head now turns to his left, his eyes bore down to yours. A smirk is so evident on his face. Your cheeks turn into rosy pink, as you duck down in shyness.

‘What a cute reaction,’ Taehyung thought to himself.

“I’m Y/N,” you politely introduce yourself, trying to make the situation less awkward than it already be.

“Would you stay with me, no matter what happens?” He questioned you on one fateful night when both of you were tangled between the sheets, moonlight softly shone through the blinds on the window.

“Of course I will. I love you,” was your automatic response.

Present Day

You were in love with him, but he is not the normal type of boyfriend who will cuddle with you at nights, takes you out on a fancy dinner, buy you flowers or watch some romantic cliche flicks with you.

He is a mafia boss, in the area you are staying. You did not know it before of course, he hid it so well. Masking himself as a businessman who always need to go for work and only be back on late nights. He had always said that his business was so important to him, being that he is the heir from his late father.

“I’m not like the normal guys, Y/N. I’m dangerous. But you, you are the only person that sees through me. I can be completely myself when I’m with you. Don’t you leave me,” his persuasive voice made your legs go jelly. But you know, this is not right.

He is dangerous, so damn dangerous. You love him, but hell, would you risk your family too? You know, you and your family will be the main target to the other mafia families who want to destroy him. 

No. You cannot risk that. And you finally decided to break up with him.

It is for the best.

That is, until one night, as you are walking back home from work, two men pounce onto you, and pull you inside a car. Everything is happening too fast. Their strong grip make you freeze in your seat, and keep your silence. With three strong looking men in the car, you choose to not do anything stupid, thus risking you to be found dead minutes later on the street. One of the men forcefully ties a blindfold on your eyes, making you feel more anxious as seconds pass by.

The car stop after what is feels like hours, and you are dragged out from the car, but this time, the men treat you like a fragile glass. 

“Follow us. And don’t struggle.”

 They guide you somewhere. The echo of the footsteps suggests that you are now walking through a hallway. 

Seconds later, they halt in their tracks. You hear sounds of knocking on a door.

“Come in,” a muffled voice is heard. You hear creaking sound of a door, before the men guide you to continue walking and stopping a few steps after.

“Both of you may leave,” a familiar deep voice resonate in your ear, as you feel the men grips on your arms disappear. Their footsteps becomes fainter as they walk away, and closes the door.

Your breath hitchs, hearing another footsteps coming to your direction, and passing you.

“Taehyung?” You croak out.

Click. The door is locked.

“Taehyung? Is that you? ” You voice out again, sounding like you are in such despair.

The footsteps travel closer to you, and the blindfolds are off. You squint your eyes at the sudden brightness of the room, until a familiar figure stands right before you.

“Hey. How have you been? ” 

Taehyung asks, a wicked smile is plastered on his face. His gaze on you make you feel small, and vulnerable. You bite down your dry bottom lips and avoid any eye contact with him.

“You said you will stay with me. But then, you disappear. Why you lied, Y/N? Don’t you love me anymore?” His voice sounds sad and disappointed.

No response from you.

He rubs the temple of his nose, sighing softly at your silence.

“It doesn’t matter. Now that you are here, you are now completely mine,” his voice turns cheerful, making you snap and look at him in fear.

His hand travels slowly, from the tip of your fingers, up to your arms and stays on your shoulder. He pulls you close, and pats your hair, chuckling.

“I love you, and I promise you will never get hurt,” his lips come in contact with your hot cheeks, sending shivers down your spine.

Things I Write When I’m Bored

It’s done! I gotta admit, Tae as a mafia boss will be the hottest thing on Earth

Hope you like it! <3

Originally posted by donewithjeon

‘kay so, a couple’a things before you guys dive in: 

1. i’ve never written to//ny sta/rk before outside of vanilla rps so please be gentle and don’t judge me too harshly on his probably terrible characterization sobbb

2. p/eter’s spidey suit is more than likely equipped to handle fires/smoke but let’s pretend that tony didn’t anticipate his spiderling chilling in a burning building for like an hour ok

3. i headcanon that pete/r still messes up from time to time even though he’s wiser about crimefighting now (he’s a teenager, come on)

4. spoilers for spider//man home//coming if you’ve not yet seen it :U 

5. do not ask/request pe/ter material from me because i will not write it (he’s fifteen and i refuse to fetishize him in ANY way [and if you do keep it to yourself because i’m not interested])

with all that said, please enjoy!! c: 

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Birmingham Lass, Camden Girl

Alfie Solomons X Reader

I was born and bred in Birmingham, like a fucking horse, but I don’t know whether it’s my home. You’ve heard the whole, ‘I was best friends with the Shelby’s’ thing before. I know you have. But no, we weren’t best friends, we were siblings. You’ll notice the use of ‘were’ and not 'are’ to describe my affiliation with the Shelby family. If I’m honest, I see them as my past now, because I don’t want them to be my present. Maybe that’s harsh and goes against the so called 'Shelby Way’ like we’re some kind of fucking royalty. But I don’t care because, our family was ruined by my brothers. They soiled our name and made it synonymous with fear and violence. If I told anyone I was a Shelby they’d think I was there to kill them.

Thomas is to blame. I blame him, I always have and always will. If he had not taken on that shipment of guns, none of this would have happened. If he hadn’t fallen for that Irish spy a lot of bad things also wouldn’t have happened to us. But no, Thomas dug our family’s grave but refused to lay in it. He made the rest of us lay in it instead.

It should have been me running the business. It would have been clean without any murder. I’m older than Tommy and more sane than Arthur. I’m the second eldest but I wasn’t even considered as the leader of the business. Even Polly didn’t support me and Ada was fucking Freddie Thorne so that didn’t help. As soon as Tommy told me about the guns, I hit him right round the face and walked off angrily. He never apologised or even really talked to me about it again off his own accord. Either way, I knew from that moment on that he wasn’t to be trusted.

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