#i did a pole routine to all that jazz ^-^

[kryptonian-tree]

had my aerial showcase today and i won a raffle prize!!

[msbigredmachine]

Finding Angel: 2

A/N: Thank you all for a wonderful response to the first chapter. I appreciate it!

Here's chapter 2.

MASTERLIST

The diner is quiet, a stark contrast to the neon-lit chaos of Exotica. It’s one of Naima’s favorite spots, a place where she can escape and think. Roman holds the door open for her, his imposing presence drawing a few curious glances from the late-night patrons. They slide into a booth near the back, the worn leather seats creaking softly beneath them.

Naima orders coffee, while Roman opts for tea. The nondescript gesture makes her smile. Most men she knows wouldn’t touch tea, insisting on something stronger, more masculine. But Roman doesn’t seem to care about appearances. He is comfortable in his skin, and his confidence is magnetic. 

They stay at the diner for hours, their conversation ebbing and flowing. Roman finds himself captivated by her high-pitched laugh, the way it lights up her entire face. He notices so much about her, maybe too much; the way her fingers tap rhythmically against the table when she’s thinking, the slight tilt of her head when she is listening intently, the sparkle in her eyes when she talks about the things she loves.

“So, what do you do for fun?” he asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

Naima's smile is soft and she doesn’t hesitate. “Well,” she begins, “I got a few. I model, I create content, but my absolute favorite is teaching dance classes a couple of times a week.”

Roman’s brow arches in surprise, his gaze shifting from his mug to her face. “Really?”

Naima nods, her smile widening at his interest. “Yeah. There's a local studio not too far away from here. That’s where I teach. Hip-hop, jazz, Afrobeats…pole,” she winks at him, making him laugh. “I’ve been doing it for a few years now, and I upload the videos on my YouTube and Instagram pages. It’s something I’m really passionate about. It’s my little escape from everything else.” She pauses, her voice softening. “It’s a lot of work but I love it. It’s my way of staying grounded.”

Roman’s expression softens even more. He hears the passion in her voice, sees the way her eyes light up, and it only makes him more curious. “That’s amazing. How did you get it started?”

Naima exhales, thinking back. “It started with private lessons, actually. I was helping a friend train for an audition, and word just kinda spread. More people started reaching out; dancers, performers, even people with no background in dance who just wanted to learn. At some point, I realized I had something real, something I could build on.”

Roman nods, taking it in. “So you went from that to having your own company?”

She smiles. “Pretty much. The studio space came later, but yeah. It wasn’t easy, though. I had to network, put myself out there, find the right people who believed in the vision. But I love it. Seeing people connect with movement, watching them gain confidence; it’s more than just dancing. It’s self-expression, release…therapy, in a way.”

Roman watches her, the admiration clear in his orbs. “That’s dope as hell,” he murmurs. “You built somethin’ legit, somethin’ meaningful.”

Naima shrugs, but there’s a quiet pride in her eyes. “Yeah…I did.”

Roman smiles, impressed. “Maybe you could show me a move or two sometime?”

Naima laughs. “I could, but you’d have to work really hard to keep up. I don’t teach any easy routines.”

He chuckles, leaning in slightly, teasing. “Well, I’m pretty competitive. You might be surprised.”

She shakes her head, still smiling, feeling a little more connected to him than before. His interest in something so personal to her stays on her mind. She didn’t expect to open up in such a casual way, but she’s glad she has.

“Sounds like you got a lot going on,” Roman goes on, admiring the way she seems to balance so much. “I respect that. You’re not just dancing…you’re putting something real into the world, something that matters. That takes dedication.”

Naima feels a warmth spread through her chest, and the quiet sincerity in his voice makes her heart flutter just a little. “Thanks, Roman,” she says, meeting his gaze. “I really appreciate you saying that.”

“Of course. What you’re doing is special, Naima.”

For a moment, she basks in the glow of his words, but then her smile turns slightly bittersweet. “I try. Gotta make do with it, after my plans for world domination got derailed,” she adds with a shrug.

Roman’s eyes narrow curiously. “What happened?”

Naima’s gaze shifts away, her lips pressing together briefly. Something unspoken lingers in the air between them, a flash of pain in her eyes. “Very long story. Trust me,” she says, her tone final but not unkind.

Roman doesn’t press further, sensing that the moment isn’t right. Instead, he nods, letting the silence between them settle. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says simply.

Naima huffs a quiet laugh, giving him a small, skeptical smile. Sure, okay. Maybe one day. Not that it really matters…she seriously doubts she’ll ever see him again after tonight.

“You’re a great dancer, though. I saw it tonight,” he points out, his deep voice carrying a note of conviction.

Naima feels her face flush. “I appreciate that.”

“For real. You just…don’t seem like you belong there,” he says quietly. “Not like the others.”

Naima tilts her head, watching him closely. “What makes you think that?” Her voice is calm—too calm. Like she already knows what he’s about to say.

Roman holds her stare, unwavering, like it’s been all night. “It’s the way you carry yourself. You’re not just performing for an audience. You have control. You know exactly who you are. And that’s rare in a place like the club.”

She considers his words for a moment before letting out a soft laugh, more thoughtful than amused. “Maybe you’re right,” she admits. “I’ve learned to navigate life by my own rules. That’s why I’m where I’m at, and not anywhere else.”

Roman continues to study her, his expression shifting just slightly. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pry, but something about her words settles deep. It’s the first real glimpse beyond the surface, beyond the walls they’re both still carefully holding up.

“You ever think about leavin’?” he asks, his voice low, barely a whisper.

Of course. The dreaded question. “Sometimes,” she offers, her tone tinged with uncertainty. “But it’s complicated.” There is a brief, yet heavy pause before she speaks again, forcing her tone to shift to something more playful. “Why? You wanna try and convince me to quit this job? Whisk me away somewhere?”

Roman chuckles, the sound as warm as his tea. “If you want me to.” And he leaves it at that.

Scoffing softly, she glances down, absentmindedly fidgeting with the silver bracelet on her left wrist. The movement draws Roman’s attention, and he catches sight of the small butterfly tattoo just inside her wrist.

“What’s the story behind that?” he asks, nodding toward it. “And the other butterflies on your hip?”

Naima hesitates, then turns her wrist to show him. “They’re reminders. Butterflies go through so much to become what they are. It’s my way of telling myself that even when things get tough, I can still transform into something bigger, better.”

Roman stays quiet, as if letting her words settle. Then, without a word, he reaches out and takes her hand, his fingers warm against hers. He lifts her wrist to his lips and presses a soft, deliberate kiss to the ink. The gesture is unexpected, intimate in a way that makes Naima’s breath hitch.

“You’re cool as shit,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing gently over the tattoo. “Don’t let anyone, including yourself, tell you otherwise.”

For a moment, silence stretches between them, charged with something neither of them expected to feel tonight. Naima exhales, shaking her head with a soft laugh. And just as she starts to pull away, her fingers hesitate. Then, subtly, she loosens her grip, shifting just enough so that their fingers intertwine.

It’s a small thing. Barely anything.

But the sparks between them right now? Crazy.

“You’re not like most men I meet,” she comments, realizing just how much she enjoys staring into his eyes.

Roman smirks, leaning back slightly. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It is.”

When the conversation finally lulls, he glances at his watch and frowns slightly. “It’s late. Let me drive you home.”

Naima arches an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “What are you driving? Some flashy sports car?”

Roman chuckles, shaking his head. “Not exactly.” He pulls out his phone and sends a quick message. Minutes later, a sleek black Rolls-Royce Ghost pulls up outside the diner.

Naima’s eyes widen, and she bursts out laughing. “Of course. Big baller shit.”

Roman laughs with her as he stands and extends his hand. “Come on. Let's get you home safe.”

She takes his hand, his grip firm yet easy, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. As they step out of the diner, the night air wraps around them, cool against the warmth lingering between their palms. Naima doesn’t overthink it—won’t let herself—but there’s a feeling settling deep in her chest.

Something about tonight feels different. Unfinished. Like a story just waiting to be written.

The ride home is quiet but intimate, the hum of the Rolls-Royce’s engine a soothing backdrop to the charged silence between them in the back seat. Roman's arm is draped around her waist, pulling her close as she rests her head on his shoulder. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the faint scent of his cologne all combine to create a cocoon of comfort and tension that neither can deny.

Roman’s fingers idly trace circles on her hip, his touch gentle and soothing. Naima tilts her head slightly to look up at him, her dark eyes drinking in the sharp plane of his jaw, his chiseled cheekbones right above his thick beard. The faintest smile plays on her lips as he looks down, catching her eye.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she teases.

“I’m just taking it all in,” Roman answers, his deep voice resonating in her ears. His hand moves to cup her face, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone. “Taking you in,” he continues, his gaze dropping to her lips for the briefest moment before returning to her eyes. 

Naima smiles and snuggles closer to him, enjoying his warmth as his arm tightens around her. They remain that way for the rest of the drive, the tension between them building with every passing second. 

The car pulls up in front of her home, a modern apartment complex tucked away in a quiet part of Atlanta. Roman steps out first, rounding the vehicle to open her door. His presence is imposing yet effortless, the way he holds out his hand—solid, sure—making it impossible to ignore the pull between them.

Naima slides her fingers into his, warmth spreading through her chest as he takes her duffel bag without a word, his easy confidence making it feel natural to let him. She leads him through the entrance, the soft click of her heels against the tiled floor the only sound between them.

The elevator doors glide open, and as they step inside, the space suddenly feels smaller. Closer. The air shifts, thickening. Naima presses the button for her floor, then leans back against the mirrored wall. She can feel his gaze, the weight of it sending a slow shiver down her spine. She grips her keys a little tighter, the metal cool against her palm, a poor distraction from the heat licking at her skin. When she turns her head slightly, their eyes meet in the reflection.

Neither of them speaks, but the charge between them says everything.

The elevator hums as it ascends, a tortuously slow climb. Roman’s fingers flex around the strap of her bag, and for a moment, she swears he’s debating something. The anticipation coils between them, thick and electric.

By the time the doors slide open, Naima exhales a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Roman follows her out, handing her bag back as they stand there. Their fingers brush in the exchange, a fleeting touch that sends a spark racing up her arm.

Her heart pounds.

She looks up at him, lips parting, and Roman tilts his head slightly, eyes hooded, searching. She swallows hard, gripping her bag tighter.

“Thanks for the ride,” she murmurs, though it feels like the least important thing she could say right now. “And for tonight.”

Roman nods, his gaze lingering on her. “I should be thanking you,” he says. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a conversation that felt...real.”

Naima smiles shyly, her pulse quickening. “Same here.”

They stand there a little longer, neither wanting to say goodbye. Finally, Roman leans in, his hand gently cupping her cheek. His touch is tender, but his eyes hold a fierce intensity. Dipping his head, he presses his lips to hers, kissing her slowly, deeply, and Naima feels herself melt into him. Her hands find their way to his chest, feeling the strength beneath the fabric of his shirt as they get lost in the moment.

When they finally pull apart, their breaths mingling in the cool night air, Naima hesitates. Her logical mind is screaming at her to say goodbye, to end the night here and let him go back into the elevator. But her attraction to Roman is immense and seemingly stronger than reason.

“Do you wanna come in?” she asks, her voice just above a whisper.

Roman searches her face, his dark eyes filled with both desire and caution. “Do you want me to come in?”

Naima nods, the truth spilling from her lips before she can second-guess herself. “Yes.”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He follows her down the hallway, his hand in hers as they make their way to her front door. The air between them thickens with anticipation, as she unlocks the door and lets him in.

The living room is a blend of warmth and quiet luxury, the kind of space that feels effortlessly inviting. A plush sectional stretches along one wall, its velvety texture accented by an array of throw pillows in soft neutrals—ivory, champagne, and deep charcoal. A thick, cream-colored knit blanket is draped casually over one arm, a contrast to the sleek, asymmetrical coffee table in front of it. The table’s modern design is softened by the small details on top—a lit candle labeled Warm Vanilla & Cashmere, a stack of choreography notes bound neatly with a ribbon, and a single glass of water with a slice of lemon floating inside.

The muted glow from the wall sconces casts a golden hue across the room, complementing the deep mauve and taupe tones woven throughout the space. Roman’s eyes track over to the open-concept kitchen, where the white quartz countertops gleam under the dim lighting. A fruit bowl sits on the island, overflowing with fresh oranges, apples, and bananas, next to a neatly arranged mason jar full of wooden cooking utensils. There’s a subtle scent of lavender in the air, likely from the discreet diffuser plugged into the far corner.

Everything is carefully put together, yet lived-in. Feminine, but not overwhelmingly so. Comfortable, but still carrying an understated elegance…the kind of balance that tells him she has a taste for the finer things but doesn’t go out of her way to flaunt it.

Roman takes it all in, his dark eyes lingering on the details before settling on her. Naima watches him, shifting slightly, suddenly aware of how much this space reflects her.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” she mutters, toying with the hem of her shirt, as if playing it down will make his gaze feel less intense.

Roman doesn’t say anything right away. He just nods, slow and assured, before looking back at her. “It suits you,” he murmurs.

And for some reason, that makes her stomach flip.

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of her curly hair from her face. The simple gesture sends a shiver down her spine, and she finds herself leaning into his touch.

The tension between them is palpable now, a current of electricity that neither can resist. Roman’s hands meet her waist, pulling her flush against him as he leans down to capture her lips in another searing kiss. This one is different; hungrier, more desperate; as if they’re both finally giving in to the pull that has been tugging them close all night.

Naima’s hands slide up his chest, her fingers tangling in his hair as she deepens the kiss, their tongues tangling together. Roman groans softly, the sound vibrating against her lips as his hands roam up her back, anchoring her to him.

“Naima,” he rasps, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. His gaze is dark, filled with desire, but also restraint. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I mean it.” 

She stares up at him, her heart racing. His care, his need for her consent, makes her chest tighten in the best way. It’s not something she’s used to, and it only deepens the pull she feels toward him.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, her voice trembling with raw emotion, her lips brushing against his as she speaks. “I want you.”

He closes his eyes briefly, exhaling as if her words are the permission he needs to finally let go. “Are you sure?” he asks, cupping her face.

Naima nods, tugging him closer if that is even physically possible. “I’ve never been more sure.”

His restraint shatters, and he kisses her again, more hungrily this time, pouring every ounce of pent-up desire into it. Naima responds eagerly, her fingers finding the buttons of his shirt and fumbling to undo them. He helps her, shrugging out of the fabric and tossing it aside, revealing the thick muscles and intricate tattoos etched beneath. Her hands trace the lines of ink, her touch reverent.

“Beautiful,” she murmurs, breathless just touching him. He feels so good.

Roman smiles and finds her lips again. “Not as beautiful as you.”

They take their time, their movements slow and deliberate as they undress each other. Roman’s hands find her skin, warm and eager, but it’s her breasts that steal his focus. Big, round, and perfect in his grasp, his palms mold over them, relishing their weight, his thumbs sweeping over her pierced nipples with a reverence that makes her shiver.

“Damn,” he mutters, his voice thick with appreciation. His dark eyes drink her in, lingering as if trying to commit every curve to memory. “So damn beautiful.”

Naima feels the heat rise to her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away. She especially can’t look away from that monster hanging between his thighs. She swallows, wondering how the heck it’s going to fit. Her thoughts are interrupted when he pulls her back into his embrace. The intensity between them grows with every kiss, every caress. It’s as if they’ve done this a hundred times, yet every touch is new and electric.

He lifts her effortlessly, carrying her toward the sectional like she’s weightless. A fire has been ignited that threatens to consume them both. As Roman lays her down, his large frame covering hers on the plush couch, they both know there is no turning back. The connection between them is undeniable, and tonight, they will explore it fully.

The delicious heat of his naked skin on hers, his thick, heavy dick nestling against her pussy, ekes a moan from her mouth into his...especially as he grinds against her, his heavy shaft nudging along her clit and making her ache for him to be inside of her. It spurs her to reach down between their bodies and curl her hand around him, thick and long and hard.

“Damn,” she breathes, mesmerized.

Roman pulls back slightly, his eyes wide as she begins to stroke him up and down. "Naima..." he says, his voice husky, "I…shit…I don’t have any condoms. I didn’t exactly plan on...this." His eyes search hers, his desire tempered by concern.

Naima smiles at his thoughtfulness. "I like that you’re careful," she whispers, reaching for her purse and pulling a Trojan out. "I’m on the pill, but I don’t take chances either." She places it in his hand. "Now, where were we?"

Roman grins and kisses her again, this time more fervently, knowing they’re both on the same page. Her heart rate accelerates watching him roll the condom over his intimidating length, meeting his eyes as he hooks her thighs around his waist. Bracing himself on one hand while the other guides his dick inside her wet, waiting pussy, they both exhale throaty groans as her walls stretch around his invasion, breaking her in with his girth. 

Jesus…

He forces himself to still and let her adjust to him, his mouth on hers to soothe the trembles of her body. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” he whispers against her lips. 

“No,” she shakes her head and kisses him, hot and hurried, “I can…I can take it.” 

“Good,” he says with a low, rumbling growl. He rolls his hips, thrusting into her, out and back in. Naima feels the pleasure threatening to snatch her from her own body, only tied down by the luscious heat that anchors her to the couch with his grinding strokes. He’s taking his time, exploring her body as if it’s something sacred. He whispers her name like a prayer, his heavy panting warming the side of her throat as he rocks in and out of her, drawing moans and soft cries and sparking sensations that feel otherworldly.

“Oh, fuck, Roman…” 

“Baby, you’re so tight…feels so good,” he groans. He hitches her long ass legs higher on his hips, groaning as the move nudges him even deeper inside of her. She can practically feel him in her stomach. She dares to look down, to watch all that dick piston in and out of her, her cream coating the thick length, granting him easier access inside her. It’s the hottest thing she has seen in a long time. It’s even hotter, the way he looks at her, like she’s the only woman in the world. It’s overwhelming and grounding all at once. Her hands caress his broad shoulders and his long hair as their foreheads touch, sharing delicious, breathy kisses as they move in perfect rhythm. She’s letting herself go in a way she hasn’t in years, surrendering completely to the moment. 

“Oooh, just like that…mmmph, fuck!” Her pleas dissolve into desperate moans as she nears euphoria. As though sensing it, he pushes deeper, tapping the bottom of her pussy, making it clench around the base of his cock. Her eyes widen as jolts of pleasure rip through her body as it spasms, making her come harder than she’s come in so long.

“Mmm, you came for me, baby?” Roman grins, withdrawing from her and dipping his face between her thighs. “Let me taste it…”

Her back arches off of the couch when his mouth spreads over her folds, his warm, long tongue lapping up her sweetness. Resting an arm over her stomach, his other hand wraps around her thigh to hold her still as he delves deep, working her pussy with frightening expertise. The sound of her heartbeat and the sloppy slurps of his skilled mouth thud in Naima’s ears as she fights back tears from how good he’s making her feel. She claws at locks of his hair, her head thrown back into the pillows, letting out a squeal she can’t control as another intense orgasm crashes into her with the force of a tsunami. She feels her body deflate, panting softly as she throws her arm across her face. Roman’s chuckle rattles in her ears as he moves her hand away to kiss her, both moaning as they exchange the taste of her.

“You’re fucking incredible,” she sighs.

His smile widens as he turns her onto her stomach. He kneels behind her, nudging her knees apart with one huge thigh, and pulls her hips back, the action rubbing his erection against her wet entrance. With his chest flush on her back, he brushes her hair away from her neck to kiss her shoulder. He eases his dick back into her, growling at the slick sensation that engulfs his length yet again.

“Shit, baby…” 

"Tell me, baby girl. This feel good?" He moves slowly, pushing in and pulling out in gradual, deliberate strokes. 

“Yes…it’s…better,” she groans, goosebumps sprouting from his warm breath in the crook of her neck. The swipe of his tongue on her skin makes her pussy tighten, her increasing wetness slipping him more easily inside her. Naima reaches up to slide her fingers through his hair, her lips meeting his in a sloppy, hungry kiss. She presses her face against his, their labored breaths joined as one.

"Naima...fuck, baby, your pussy feels amazing..."

Her breath catches at the lust clouding his eyes. Boldly, she licks at his mouth, whispering back to him, "Your dick feels amazing too, I love how deep you are…"

Roman feels his dick twitch at that. Everything about this woman is sexy as hell. Her body, her husky voice, he’s taken by it all. He feels her begin to move, his breathing growing ragged at the sight of her round, supple cheeks bouncing off his dick, grinding back on his groin, her groans washing over him as she dares to take him even deeper inside her. Roman’s palm smooths over her stomach, sliding up to grope her breast, pinching her nipple, making her cry out as lightning zips through her.

“Fuck!” 

Gripping her waist in his big hands, Roman regains control of the pace as he thrusts harder and deeper, giving her every thick inch of him, reveling in her increasingly loud moans. “Mmm-hmm, take this dick, baby, you asked for it…damn, this pussy squeezin’ me,” he growls, giving her ass a smack. 

Naima cries out from the sting of his palm, clinging to a throw pillow in complete bliss as he feeds her with deep, pounding backshots to her g-spot that makes his heavy ballsac slap against her clit and her eyes roll in the back of her head. She can’t believe how present he is, so focused on her. How good it's felt from the first minute. It’s been a perfect mix of passion and tenderness and wild abandon. 

Roman peppers more kisses along her neck, nuzzling his face in it as his balls tighten, sounding him off for his own climax. “Come for me again, Naima. Soak my dick, give it to me,” he orders.

There’s something about the command of his voice that compels her body to obey right away. The sky seems to fall as she comes a third time, her thighs shaking as her pussy gushes. Roman’s deep moans mingle with hers in a sweet symphony as he tumbles into his own orgasm, his cock twitching and pulsing inside her. Naima loves it, loves the crack in his deep voice as pleasure melts his big frame down to nothingness.

His thrusts finally slow, languid and lazy, letting her milk him thoroughly while they consume each other’s moans, his hand massaging her breast as he keeps her close to him like precious porcelain. 

The room takes its time to stop spinning as they lie tangled together on the couch, their bodies gleaming with sweat, still buzzing with the aftershocks of their magic coupling. Roman’s arms wind around her, holding her tight as he presses a kiss to her temple. Naima rests her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She can’t believe what’s just happened. Can’t believe that sex like this still exists, that she can have such mind-blowing back-to-back orgasms. That this man—so different from anyone she’s ever met—treated her like she was something precious the entire time. She wishes she could have more. She wishes it didn’t have to end tomorrow like she knows it will.

As sleep begins to tug at her, she picks the next best option, “Please stay.”

Roman pulls the throw blanket over them both and kisses her forehead tenderly. “I’m right here, baby.”

Roman’s phone buzzes loudly on the coffee table, jarring him awake. The soft morning light spills through the blinds, highlighting the peaceful expression on Naima’s face as she lays curled against him. For a moment, he debates ignoring the call altogether, but when the screen lights up again with Jimmy’s name, he rolls his eyes and reluctantly answers.

“What?” Roman’s voice is a low growl, still rough from sleep.

“Mannn, don’t ‘what’ me, Uce,” Jimmy shoots back, sounding annoyed. “Where you at? The jet’s ready and we’re waiting. Jey and Sami are here, but you MIA. Wassup?”

Roman exhales heavily, his free hand gently brushing Naima’s hair as she stirs slightly. “The jet can wait.”

Jimmy’s laugh comes through the phone, sharp and knowing. “Oh, it’s like that? You still with that stripper chick? Angel?”

“Jimmy,” Roman warns, his voice dropping.

“Relax, Uce. I’m just sayin’,” Jimmy teases. “Pussy gotta be bomb if you keepin’ us all waitin’. Jey gon’ be mad at your ass though. He was talking about her all night.”

Roman shakes his head, his patience wearing thin. “Too bad. And I said, I’ll get there when I fucking get there. That’s all y’all need to know.”

Before Jimmy can press further, Roman ends the call and sets the phone back down. He leans back against the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment before looking down at Naima, who has begun to wake.

Her eyes flutter open, and for a moment, she just looks at him, her expression unreadable. “Morning.”

“Morning.” His smile is soft and his kiss is even softer. 

“You’re still here,” she comments when he pulls back. At the slight frown on his face, she shrugs, smoothing her hair. “Most guys don’t usually stick around,” she answers bluntly; the truth.

Roman lets his thumb graze her chin. “I ain’t most guys. And I wasn’t going anywhere without seeing your pretty eyes one more time.”

Her heart flutters, and she smiles wider, flattered and relieved. "I’m glad you stayed," she whispers.

Roman leans in, pressing another kiss to her mouth before sitting back. “Me too. I hate that I gotta leave.”

Naima nods, trying to mask her disappointment. “It’s okay. I get it. You’ve got your people waitin’ on you,” she says softly, guarded again. “I can’t keep you here.”

Roman shakes his head, his brow furrowing as he reaches for her hand. “Truth is, I wanna see you again,” he says earnestly.

She stares at him, struggling to keep her neutral expression intact. “You barely know me, Roman. We just met.”

He chuckles softly, the warmth in his chest growing. “I know enough. I know that you’re different. We spent a lot of last night talking and laughing, which I hardly do...It felt like we’ve known each other a long time.”

The intensity of his gaze has her looking away, unsure of how to respond as she processes his words. She feels the same way too…She likes him, more than she’s ready to admit. But she’s also cautious. It’s just one night. The last thing she wants is to fall into something that will only leave her hurt. Again.

“Are you sure?” she asks hesitantly, “I mean…I’m just a strip-”

“Don’t,” he interrupts gently but firmly, his large hand coming up to cup her cheek. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’ve spent hours with you and I still want more. Last night wasn’t just fun...it was real. At least to me.”

Naima’s heart is battling with her head. She really wants to believe him, to trust that this isn’t just a fleeting moment for him. “What do you even see in me?” she presses, her voice laced with vulnerability.

Roman’s expression softens. “I see you, baby girl,” he says smoothly. “Not Angel. Not the dancer. You. Smart, funny, beautiful as fuck, Naima.”

Her heart clenches at his words, and for the first time in a long time, she feels seen in a way that goes beyond the surface. But doubt still hovers like a dark cloud. “What happens when you leave? When reality sets in?”

Roman smiles faintly. “We'll make our own reality,” he says confidently, picking up his phone and handing it to her. “Here. Put your number in. And take mine, too.”

Naima hesitates for a moment, then reaches for her own phone on the coffee table and gives it to him. She taps in her digits, saving her number for him. “There,” she says, swapping their phones back. “I’m in your phone.”

“And I’m in yours,” Roman says, his voice soft as he eyes her.

She laughs lightly, shaking her head. “You’re persistent as fuck, aren’t you?”

“When it comes to something I want? Always,” he replies with a smirk.

He stands reluctantly, gathering his clothes and slipping them on. Naima rises too, wrapping the throw blanket around her before walking him to the door. As they reach it, he stops, looking down at her. 

“I’ll call you,” he says.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she replies with a smile, her voice teasing, though the sincerity is still there.

“I’m not the type to break promises,” he insists confidently. “And I’m not the type to walk away from something that feels so special.”

Naima’s eyes soften, and for a split second, it feels like the world has paused around them. There’s no rush, no obligation. Just the two of them, standing on the edge of something new.

Roman steps closer and wraps his arms around her in a warm, lingering embrace that neither seems ready to end. She buries her face in the curve of his neck, inhaling his scent��whiskey, cedar, and something undeniably him—and feeling an ache she doesn’t quite understand.

His large hands span her lower back, silently promising that this is not goodbye, just a ’see you later’. She clings to him, her fingers tracing soft patterns over the muscles beneath his shirt, reluctant to let go.

Pulling back to rest his forehead gently against hers, his thumb caresses her chin, near her lips. He leans in, capturing her mouth in a tender kiss. It’s neither rushed nor fleeting; it is gentle and filled with the quiet passion of a man who doesn’t just want her for one night. Naima kisses him back just as deeply, savoring the taste of him. Time seems to stretch, their shared silence speaking louder than any words can. 

When they finally part, their breaths mingle, neither ready to fully break the connection. Placing a soft kiss on her forehead, his lips linger for a moment before he pulls back, his eyes searching hers one last time.

“I’ll see you soon, baby girl,” he vows, his voice rough but soft, like gravel smoothed by the sea. “Take care of yourself.” 

Naima nods, her heart thudding in her chest, the sadness of him leaving creeping in even though she’s just met him. “I will. And right back at’cha,” she whispers.

Roman gives her one final brief, sweet kiss before stepping away. As he walks out the door, it feels as though a piece of him stays behind, wrapped around her like the memory of his embrace.

She smiles as she closes the door, leaning against it as her heart races. They only just met, but it feels like something she doesn’t want to let slip away. 

And on the other side of the door, Roman feels the same, a hopeful smile brightening his handsome face.

That maybe, just maybe...they’re both ready to take this chance.

It's all sunshine and roses now...but not for long...

🏷️: @harmshake @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @vebner37 @thewarlordsworld @trippinsorrows @herwickedlittlesins @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80

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@fearlesschimera��@tshepisho @partypoison00 @originalgeezyy @muzaqueendom @naturally-nikkilynn

[felice-jaganshi]

Strawberry Scented Love

Radiodust Strawberry Pimp AU

Chapter 5 - Good Girl

TW: Mentions of Past Suicide

~One week later, three nights before the grand opening~

 

Velvet smiled, laying on the couch of the A/V's tower, happily drawing away. “Fuck yes, this is the best idea to come out of that disgusting porn studio in decades! We should have added you to the Vee's forever ago! The fuck did Vox do to turn you away before?” She was coming up with outfits for the performers based on the notes of what their songs were going to be.

“Ugh, don't bring up that old shit Vel!” Vox groaned, lounging across the arms of his own chair. “Why can't I broadcast it again?” He was pouting at Alastor, who sat cross legged in his own chair with a cup of coffee and the newspaper.

“Because the selling point is you can only see it in person. If they could buy a recording, it diminishes the value of the product. The product being the experience, not the performers, don't give me that look or I'll rip your good eye from your head you silly picture box.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time…” Vox huffed and crossed his arms, pouting at Alastor. 

“To answer your question, Velvette, he had asked me to be his romantic partner, and I'm not interested in him like that. So he stole my idea of combining all the media demons into one super power. The A/V's were originally my idea. Though he wanted to call us the V/A's of course. As ridiculous as that sounds.”

“Oh right, because putting your name first is soooo much cooler!” Vox rolled his eyes, then one of Alastor's tentacles slapped the back of his screen that was hanging off the arm of the couch. “Agh! Fuck you!”

“Hm, you wish you could.”

 

Later that day, halfway across the city, a broadcast played on a tv in front of a Voxtech store. “Breaking news sinners! Continuing last week's report on the new porn studio, Strawberry Productions, we now know they will be holding burlesque shows at the new Jazz club every Saturday night! Tickets are available now for pre-order and selling out fast! Trust us with your entertainment!”

A moth demon in a trench coat and fedora growled at the tv as he listened to the broadcast. He threw a brick, breaking one of the screens, before walking off with a fresh grin, and a plan…

 ~~~~~~~~

There was a knock on Alastor's office door, “Come in.” He was at his desk writing away. It was the middle of the night.

Anna entered the room and looked around. Alastor's coat was missing from his shoulders, draped over Angel like a blanket as he slept comfortably on Al's couch again. He'd had a nightmare about Valentino, and Alastor had offered him his company. Angel had fallen asleep quickly to the strawberry scented fluff.

“Miss Anna? Darling, what are you doing up so late?” He smiled softly at her.

“Oh, um… I was hoping, if you weren't too busy, Sir, that you could watch my routine and tell me what you think? I… I think I've got something really special, but…” She wrapped her arms around her stomach, clearly nervous. She was wearing workout shorts and a sports bra, and was soaked with sweat.

“Very well, it's clear to me you've been working hard on this even after hours. I can spare a few minutes to give my thoughts.” He rose from his chair and followed her out of the room. His Shadow stayed behind to lock the door and coo over Angel. Keeping his word to keep him company. 

 

Anna took to the stage, posing on the ground for a side profile view, one leg bent and she did a little hair flip of her bob cut as the music began. “The dress is Chanel, the shoes YSL. The bag is Dior, Agent Provocateur.” She got up and kicked on of her feet up dramatically, adding a shimmy to her hips and she headed towards the pole. “My address today, L.A. by the way. Above Sunset Strip, the hills all the way.” She wrapped one leg around it before leaning away, doing “heart hands” over her chest before pulling herself back towards the pole and lowering her leg, turning her back to him and climbing the pole. She was blushing and smiling the whole time, just having fun. 

She held out her hands, leaning backwards to look at him upside down, “My rings are by Webster, it makes their heads twirl.” She spun her way back down the pole. “They all say Darling, what did you do for those pearls?” She snapped back upright, “What?!” She put a hand in front of her mouth before pouting, “I am a good girl!”

At the end of her song she stood on the stage breathing hard. “W-well?”

Alastor slowly clapped, “A lovely dance darling, far less sexual than everyone else's. Though I do wonder if you'll get many clients with a performance like that…”

She looked down at her feet, the hand still on the pole going white knuckled with how hard she was gripping it, “Do… Do I have to still take clients? Can't I just dance?” 

“Hm? Of course you can just dance. I won't force you to sleep with anyone.” He tilted his head to the side. “You didn't choose this vocation, did you?”

She took a deep breath, but it came out stuttered, “N-no… I just wanted to dance. I don't… I don't like people touching me. I just wanted to be a dancer.” She was about to cry, her knees were shaking as she tried to hold herself together. It seemed… off to Alastor. 

 

“Darling… How long have you been in hell?”

“Five years…” Her voice was soft, but the room was silent and empty, so it echoed like a bomb.

“And… how old-”

“Don't!” She cut him off with an aggressive shout before gasping and looking up in fear, “S-sorry, I'm sorry sir! I- I didn't mean to- to-.” She was shaking all over now and Alastor's expression became dark. She was young then. Far too young for the depravity Valentino put her through.

He took to the stage, summoning a fluffy towel to his hand before slowly covering her completely from the shoulders down. He then pulled his hands away, understanding the desire to not be touched.

“Darling. It's alright. I don't wish to harm you… I understand I asked a rather rude question.” He smiled softly, his expression full of sympathy and pity.

“May I ask one more?”

She pulled the towel tightly around herself as she looked at his kneeling form, “What is it?”

“Well you see, I noticed some… similarities between us. So I thought to ask… if you had a rather unpleasant father?” He was choosing his words carefully, something he prided himself on, given his chosen career path. Both the radio one, and the serial killing.

 

“Well, I put a bullet in his head. So yeah, I'd say so.” She was pouting again, but with a quivering lip as she tried to make the tears stop. She was trying so hard to act calm and mature. The harder she tried, the more obvious to Alastor it was that she wasn't an adult when she died.

“How did you die, darling?” He kept his tone soft and friendly, but his eyes held a sorrow to them.

“My… my aunt… she was a good person. She tried to stop me from killing him, she didn't want me to go to jail. She got in the way of the first shot. I didn't mean to kill her, I was aiming for him!” She broke down, crying hard and curling into a ball. “I couldn't take it! I didn't want to go to jail, so I killed myself!” 

“I see… I'm sorry you didn't feel you had any other choice, my darling… you shouldn't have had to go through all that. I murdered my father as well, twice actually. If you'd like, I can hunt him down for you, as a gift. No strings attached.” He held out a hand for her. 

She looked at it, then back up at him, her eyes held mistrust in them. “Why are you so nice? Do you find me hot or something?”

“Of course not, I'm not attracted to women at all. It seems I've taken to viewing you like a daughter is all. So I wish to protect you.”

“Oh… so you're gay?” Her expression softened, while his became more complicated. 

“Not quite. Genuinely, I've never felt that kind of attraction towards anyone.”

“But what about Angel? You two are pretty close.” She tilted her head and her little bunny nose twitched in curiosity. 

 

“Ah, that… is an interesting situation. Can you keep a secret?” He asked softly. 

She nodded, and held out her pinky, “Promise.” He smiled and wrapped her pinky in his.

“Well, you see… Angel is a rare and strange exception for me. I genuinely love him, which isn't something I've felt for anyone other than my mother. And I'm still coming to terms with the feeling.”

“Oh.. okay… can I hug you?” That threw him for a loop! He hadn't expected her to ask that after saying she didn't like being touched! Did that make him a special exception? Like how Rosie and Angel were for him?

“You said you see me like a daughter, and well, I like the idea of having a dad that doesn't suck.” 

He wordlessly held open his arms and she got up, hugging him with her arms around his neck. He hugged her back, arms around her torso. “I never hoped to be a good father, given my only example of one was a horrible monster… but I suppose I could repurpose what I learned from my mother if that doesn't sound too strange for you.”

She nodded and rest her chin on his shoulder, “I don't see a problem with that. Gender roles on childcare are weird.”

 

Alastor chuckled and pet her head with one hand, “Well, you should go rest in your dressing room. It's far too late for you to be up, and it wouldn't be safe for a young lady to travel the streets alone.” He stood, carrying her as he went to put her in her room.

“Hm, okay… oh, should I still call you Sir in front of everyone, or can I call you Papa?”

“Ah… let's keep that private for now. I'm worried the others may get jealous if they learn you're getting special treatment. And… I'm not sure if I enjoy being called parental terms yet.”

She hummed at his honest discomfort and fell asleep in his arms.

[nnothingnesss]

I'm Innocent (Short Story)

Marvin finds a woman unconscious on the side of the street. Soon, police officer's are in search of someone to charge for her hit and run.

The light poles stood extra tall tonight. They almost distorted in height. The lights flashed strongly, blinding. They would catch the opening of your pupil and flood them. Smoke still lingered in the air from the strain of forcefully braking at such high speeds. The breath in his chest would hardly stay, his lungs contracting violently but never enough. The woman lay beside the car in the dirt under this mysteriously tall street lamp.

ma'am are you okay? who did this?

the door slams shut as he rushes to her. she's been there, down for almost half an hour. her hair splayed across her face and the dirt reaching out like roots for a delicate flower underneath the soil. He was panicking checking her pulse, pressing his fingers onto the artery. He held his breath and allowed the world to still so he could focus.

One beat. Two beat. Three. She's still alive. He grabs his phone and dials 911 immediately. In a frantic shout and curse he managed to get a police officer and an ambulance to deploy en route to their location. As he waited he attempted to make conversation with her or see if she would wake up. no response. It wasn't long before the sirens sang through the night sky. In a matter of minute they had arrived.

hey. my name is officer jefferey. this is officer dahlia. you ok?

yeah, yeah im fine

whats your name sir?

my name is Marvin

Well it's nice to meet you Marvin. Me and officer jefferey just want to ask a couple questions with you, if you're ready for it

Yeah sure anything I can to help

Thank you. That makes this a lot easier.

Ahem, Thank you Dahlia. Anyways, so how'd you find her?

Well I was just driving down the road you see I'm coming home from work down at the high school. We're redoing it. But yeah, I was driving home and I saw her lying here underneath the streetlamp. I had to help her.

well that was really kind of you Mr. Marvin.

yeah. youre a good guy. Officer Dahlia do you mind helping out the emt's with the lady please?

sure jeff

Marvin couldn't tell but Officer Dahlia's posture as she walked was tense. She went to help lift the gurney into the ambulance as they went over a couple final details.

Marvin, mind if i get a phone number or address? So we can contact you with any further questions

Further questions? That was all i know

I understand. Look, no pressure. I'm not trying to book you or anything alright?

So why would you ask that officer?

A formality. Routine. You know how it is

Yeah

I'm ready

The man tells him his phone number and address and the cop returns back to his police car. The lady cop closes the ambulance and they follow each other down to the hospital. The night bugs flew around the light post wildly. Their infinitesimally small wings kept them in a frenzy underneath the bulb. The distorted lamp post looked normal now that the man was returning to his car. A jazz song played as he drove home.

In a cold living room the man sat on a decaying sofa watching a game show. The prize was a vacation to Santa Boricua where they'd get to attend a multi-million dollar yacht party. The host looked particular stunning, a idol that transfixed marvin. As he watched enthralled his phone began to ring and he was snapped out of his comfort.

Uh, hello? I'm busy

Hello is this Marvin Juarez? This is the police department.

Did something happen?

No, just doing a call-up. It's been a few days and we still haven't found the hit and run suspect.

Is the woman okay? I never heard about her

Unfortunately sir she passed away yesterday morning in her sleep.

Oh god

Yes it was truly a harrowing event. That's why it's even more urgent we catch the suspect

Yeah of course. What do you need?

We just thought it'd be nice to have you come down by the station for a second interview

Absolutely

After the call the man began getting ready running a hot shower. The game show played on, the host revealing a roulette that represented three different symbols. One was a closed door, another a brain, and the final was the tails end of a coin. The hand gestures the host uses to introduce these symbols is dramatized, meant to be ooo'd and aaa'd.

As the man began grabbing the last of his thing he sat and stared at the TV with his suit jacket in hand, hair still wet. His keys laid on the table by his knee. The game show was down to only two contestants who just survived a round of heads or tails. Now was the final flip. The coin goes from the hosts palm into the air before landing delicately on the veins of his hands. He catches, covers it, and then lifts his hand to reveal tails. The audience goes wild as a contestant walks off stage.

Marvin chuckles and turns the television off. He grabs his keys in a hurry frantically checking his phone before locking the door to the house and finally getting on the road fifteen minutes to the station. The air is breezing through the car, windows down. Marvin seems to be enjoying himself. A hum to his favorite song. Another jazz piece. Louis Armstrong. La vie en rose.

Marvin, thank you for coming. Great to see you're doing okay since everything

Yeah, I'm getting by

Want a drink?

Water will do

Water. Got it

Have a seat

Thanks

All we want to do is ask a couple more questions about what happened

Want me to tell you it again?

Is there anything you remembered since it happened? Anything helps.

I just saw her there driving down 95. That's all I know

What about when you were there with her alone, before you dialed 911. Did anything, i dont know, suspicious happen?

Suspicious how?

Could be a feeling, intuition, a sound, a person

I can't say that I do, no

Okay. I understand.

Yeah. Well maybe

Huh?

The light poles

The poles?

Yeah

What about them?

Nothing. I was really tired

You sure?

Yeah, positive

Well let me ask you another question then

Of course

Have you seen any white SUVs around, perhaps a dent or two in the front bumper?

No I havent. If that's the car they used then I can keep my eyes peeled

Yeah. Definitely do that

Of course, anything

You really care about helping this girl dont you?

Are you joking? Obviously. Why wouldn't I? She just died.

I know, I know. Then that brings me to a serious question

Of course

It's come to our attention you drive the exact same vehicle that fits the description

Okay but what does that have to do with the girl?

Is it possible that you may have been drinking on the night it happened and perhaps hit her on accident?

Do you want to know what I saw? I saw a woman, in the dirt, on the side of the road, still as stiff wood. So I pulled over and helped her. I did not hit that woman.

Right. Well, sorry about that I don't mean to accuse you. I just wanted to ask because anything helps. Again, sorry to bother you Marvin.

I really hope you find whoever did this to that poor woman.

Yeah. Sorry for the hassle, we just want to make sure we cover everything that's all.

Anything I can do to help officer, please.

Yeah

See you then

Drive safe Mr. Marvin

On the way home from work the next few nights Marvin always saw somebody at the site where they found the lady. They marked the spot where her body was found. The ground the candle sat on was the last thing she had seen before the white lights of the hospital. And then, rest. Tonight Marvin drove by and it was an old lady leaving a bouquet of flowers. The lights is green and his car speeds past.

The TV is going off, a movie playing off of it this time. In it two coppers talk in a interrogation room amongst themselves. Sizzling pans and enough smoke to flood the lungs of a rodent fill the apartment's air thick. There isn't a fan or air conditioning that works well enough to channel the smoke outside so Marvin simply kept his windows open.

After cooking dinner he sits to finish the movie. On it two coppers are chasing after a criminal who runs into a back alley. The cops split up and surround him. He tries his best to out maneuver them, dodging and juking the officers. One officer reaches for his legs and grabs him as the other one notices him reaching into his jacket. The officer reaches for his handgun.

As Marvin is putting another spoonful of food in his mouth his phone begins ringing again. This time it's an unknown caller. The call connects and the only audio coming through the speaker of the phone is someone's breath. They let out a big sigh and a noise that sounds like something breaking or being thrown.

I can't believe you

Hello?

Marvin Juarez

Excuse me? Who is this?

I hate you. I hate you. I hate.

The call clicks. Marvin looks visibly shaken before running to his window to peek around. He sees nothing. Nobody. He looks for a few more moments before closing the curtains. He turns around and sits back on the couch trying his best to relax. The body is tense. The call was cold. Random. Marvin's body just couldn't relax. The cops on the show held the suspect on the floor in handcuffs, a bullet in his back.

As Marvin is driving down the road past the vigil there's a large group of people. The light is red, his windows down, a jazz tune by the Miles Davis Quintet. It Never Entered My Mind. The candles are all lit, a beautifully frightening warmth. A lovely gift to the night, dozens of people lit candles and let off lanterns in remembrance of the woman. Friends, family, all showed love and respect. Some grieve, some were shoulders, all were mourning deeply. Rest in peace.

As a woman spots Marvin's car parked at the intersection she begins to throw rocks at it. Everyone sees and starts questioning the woman and she grabs another handful of rocks and looked at the crowd before putting air in her chest and a expression of war on her face.

That's the motherfucker that hit her!

The crowd looks in shock as she begins to throw more rocks. Some spectators follow suit, others back to their cars. The family of the woman go up to the spectators begging them to stop but before she does one person throws a decent sized pebble piercing through the windshield and hitting Marvin in the eye.

As the spectators clear Marvin's eye is bleeding profusely. He covers it with one hand, then both, and the blood just finds it's way through. He notices the light is turning yellow and he floors it in a rush to his bathroom. He floods his eyes with water before putting the end of a towel on it and applying pressure. After a good time passes he finally managed to get it under control and patched up with a bandage.

As he relaxed the TV played. He stared distantly into it. His expression was dazed and his eyes were like homing missiles locked onto the characters of the show. In the sitcom that was playing there was a family member who had been acting out of character. The entire family entered the room to have an intervention. They all sat together, the troubled character dead center.

As Marvin continued to watch his eyes began to close. It was late and he didn't want to think about what had happened anymore. It was confusing and none of it made sense to him. He was tired. So tired. He didn't even want to show up to work. In the show you can hear the characters on screen vent to the troubled character in the middle before they stand up and apologize.

Precisely at that moment, a knock on marvins door. He ignores it for a second, opting to remain still. Soon another knock, followed by a flashlight through the window lighting the TV up bright as day in front of him. That got him up in his seat. The flashlight slowly moved around the wall ahead of him from corner to corner as he rose to open the door.

What the hell is going on?

Marvin Juarez, you're under arrest

The fuck for?

Get him

A wave of armored police raid the room and surround him. Head to toe in black gear. Marvin tries to struggle but is overwhelmed immediately by sheer number and force in pure militant fashion. As Marvin is stood back up now handcuffed the officer shows him a warrant and a folder. In it laid a list of crimes from hit and runs, disruption, assault and battery, and other charges all labeled Marvin Juarez.

What the hell, I didnt do nothin' wrong

I'm sorry Marvin. You know how it is. Or maybe you don't

The fuck you mean, stop messing around

Take him boys

Marvin is thrown into the back of a police car and a seatbelt is straddled across his chest. The officers clamor and regroup before preparing to case the house and return back to their place of operations. Officer Jefferey and Officer Dahlia both are standing by the car as Marvin watches a man come over and congratulate them with a pat on the shoulders. He nods to them before he walks away and they talk amongst ourselves.

See, easy as pie

I can't believe I never knew about it

Yeah. It happens almost every time. I kind feel bad for the guy

But he is a criminal so I dont see why

I get it but he's ill

So what? Who gives a fuck? He attacked a pedestrian one time

Yeah but because of his condition he loses his grip on reality. Imagine what mustve happened to the guy

No thanks. Gross. Can we just drop this guy off and go home? I want to see my husband.

Fine. C'mon.

The two officers enter the car. The ceilings. They feel different. They feel taller. Wider. Spacier. Distorted. The two officers make a call to dispatch before driving off to an undisclosed location, not even bothering to talk to their passenger who has said nothing since everything happened. The ceiling of the car continued to breathe and become taller. Marvin began to sweat.

I didn't kill the girl

Save it pal

I didnt

Don't talk to him Dahlia, he'll only spin stories

I'm not going to

I'm right here. I'm telling you, you made a mistake. I don't understand. I was just driving home. I didn't do anything.

As he began to explain his side of the story the walls began to curl into themselves. The distortion became so bad the car looked like it had gone into a black hole. The officers ignored the man as they drove. They look at each other for only a second before they sit in complete silence. But Marvin couldn't relax. He couldn't sit silent.

You need to turn around right now. I can't be here. I can't go back. I didn't do anything. I swear, I promise. I was nice. I helped the lady. You should be thanking. Why are you taking me back? I just got a job, I was going to start my life over. I was going to be a better man.

Marvin. Shut the hell up you liar. I'm tired of you always defending yourself like some helpless victim. You killed the woman and you lied. Your condition, it's gotten worse since we first met you. You consistently black out traumatic events, suffer from a myriad of dissociation disorders, and always always run with your tail between your legs after you get caught. I'm tired of it.

Officer Jefferey....

No Dahlia, he needs to hear it. It's not your fault what happened to you. But you can't be wondering around out here, it's dangerous.

You mean, I'm the danger?

No, I mean it's dangerous for all of us. You included. It's better off if we keep you in the hospital where you belong.

No. I don't want to go back.

I'm sorry Marvin. You killed a woman. Your SUV had dents in the front bumper and everything.

That was

Do you remember when that happened? Was a pretty good dent. Had to be a ride

It must've happened some other time but I swear it wasn't me. I know it wasn't

Okay Marvin, whatever you say

Told you Jeff. Just let it go.

The car drove along the stretch of infinite highways. The black of the pavement matched the night of the sky. No stars tonight. Just the single pair of headlights riding down the asphalt to it's destination. As Marvin looks out the window he sees nothing but clouds and they form different obscure shapes. The car is back to normal and the episode is over. Marvin is calm and passive, blank again. Blank as the TV in his room. Blank as the sky with no stars.

[darbiebot]

DWC August 2022 day 4- Exhaustion

@daily-writing-challenge

Deagra sighed, taking a deep breath and wiping away the sweat from her brow. Starting up the music again, she counted internally as she walked over to the dancing pole she had installed, on the downbeat she pulled herself up, her arms ached with the effort and she began her routine.

She didn't entirely have the body for this, inspired by one of Dice's routines, and feeling like she wanted to try for a more overall entertaining performance for the year's tarts showings, she committed. It helped that her work in Revendreth had her doing more general walking, currently she was likely the healthiest she'd ever been in her life, cloistered as it had been.

It wasn't just to jazz things up, not entirely. Dwarves like her didn't frequent this type of work, she'd found. Short and stocky usually didn't make the standards of "sexy" amongst the greater peoples of the world. Deagra did love a challenge.

That being said, she had a long way to go before she was ready for the acrobatics of her more... athletic colleagues, especially when her leg cramped while she was upside-down on the pole, and spinning. With a cry of pain she dropped and twirled in the air, and with a dull thud her vision went dark.

She awoke in a state of confusion, feeling dizzy and sore all over. Probably a concussion, she mused, as she struggled to get on her feet, her body not cooperating. Flopping back in defeat, reached over to get a hand through the loops of her bag, thankfully lying beside the sofa near her, pulling out her communication pad.

"Hey uhh... think I hurt myself a bit in the practice room... little help guys?"

It was good that Revendreth had taught her to be humble.

[cinanamon]

your hands only — ldh (m)

pairing | donghyuck x reader

genre | smut, stripper!au

word count | 4.7K

synopsis | You had been going to a corner strip club for the past few months. Sure, maybe you only went because you had the hots for one of the performers, but you were originally satisfied from simply watching him from afar.

warning | smut: oral, fingering, degrading, overstimulation, penetration, lap dance, grinding, hair pulling, cockwarming.

You knew it for yourself that you came here too often. Every Thursday night after work, it was routine to say goodbye to your coworkers with a bright and innocent smile to, only an hour or so later, be on the other side of town in a sultry outfit and in a male strip club. You could only imagine what they’d say when you gave a casual nod of acknowledgement to the bodyguard outside before entering the shady corner building.

But you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. Because the minute you stepped inside the club, it felt like the world had flipped over, and you were someone you were not, and the people around you were new and enticing and no one judged you for enjoying seemingly taboo practices.

The black lit room made all neons burn your eyes—shining a woman’s breasts a bright blue, highlighting another man’s lipgloss a deep purple, and the men on their pedestals knew how to catch the light in such an exciting fashion, attracting all eyes to the men with no shame.

The men were truly a sight to behold. They wore all types of sexual looks; some more innocent, some kinky and leather, others practically bare, blacklight body paint covering their skin. It’s what drew you to the club in the first place; boys who were comfortable in their masculinity to accent their features in an almost feminine way, happy to show themselves off in a vulnerable state, to be objects of desire in a confident demeanor.

But one man always stood out to you, and you wouldn’t be ashamed to say he’s the reason you made a habit of coming back, like an addiction. His stage name was Haechan; barely an adult, or so he advertised to draw in the crowds, who some expected to be shy and innocent but probably had the lewdest show of the night.

Back then you were shy. Nervous when you entered, afraid someone might try to drug you, yet curiosity had won you over to check out the club. To see scantily-clad men dancing left you blushing, yet when he came on—his first show—you couldn’t bear to tear your eyes away. His eyes had landed on you, but they barely left yours for the rest of his dance. And maybe it was a one time thing that didn’t mean anything, since you’ve regularly shown each night to watch him, and yet he never lingers.

But you’ve grown from your initial innocence, and you know better than to hope. And so you watch and admire and desire from a safe distance at the base of his platform or the edge of the crowd. And tonight was no different as you maneuvered through the bodies around you, moving up with a confident tilt of your head, waiting for his act to come on.

You stalk up to the bar with a curt greeting to the bartender before asking for a martini. You don’t mind listening to the various conversations drifting around you, the different tones in peoples’ voices as you wait. It’s fun to see the bartender work, and you give a polite smile and tip once your drink is done. You lift the glass to your lips and peek your eyes over the rim as you wander closer to the stage, satisfied as you lower your drink and place a hand in your pocket.

It was another few minutes before a spotlight shone on the curtain and the sexy jazz they had playing was replaced with a sultry song with a definite beat. Instantly, an excited buzz surged through your chest, moving through all your nerves and resting in the pit of your stomach. You wondered what he had tonight; Haechan was never one to disappoint.

He stepped out onto the stage with a suave air about him, his chin above the crowd as a natural smirk settled on his lips, a few stalking steps and he’s gripping the pole, lowering his hips in a bouncing crouch before swinging his body up and around, going upside down from the beginning, leaving you in a trance already.

He wore a black lingerie set, a color he sported often, and you admired the feminine touches on his masculine features. The high-waisted panties he wore criss-crossed from his hip to his waist a couple times, and the matching top went back and forth over his upper chest till the neck-line choked him snugly. Black bracers circled his wrists and you were always fascinated that he would wear heels as he danced.

Your favorite part was his neck up though. Because Haechan never failed to doll up his face, and you knew he did it himself; black smudged eyeliner, highlighted cheekbones, and—your favorite—a red lip. And by the end of the show, his hair was always messy, his skin sweaty, his cheeks flushed, and his lips would be bitten-raw and swollen, and you could never deny your fixation on his lips as he panted to catch his breath.

You were only snapped back to reality and aware of your surroundings when you heard a sharp squeal from your left. You raised a brow in slight irritation as you glanced over, but instantly recognized the woman wearing all white and hiding her eyes, her friends around her trying to pry at her hands with loud giggles. You noticed that Haechan kept glancing at her too, sending her practiced looks of seduction and you guessed she was a bride-to-be; this had to be her bachelorette party. You tried to ignore them in favor of watching Haechan work his way around the pole, grinding against the cold metal, his mouth falling open from the sensation. Somewhere along the line, you had started to gravitate towards the edge of the stage in your trance, and you were startled when he met your eye harshly.

Your grip on the crumpled twenty dollar bill in your pocket tightened as you swallowed, and his focused gaze turned a little more devious. He lowered himself on the pole into a crouch again, but this time, he placed his one knee down into a kneel so he could drag himself closer to you. He smirked as he was now looking directly down at you, but it felt strangely intimate since his bangs shielded his gaze from the other viewers.

You hesitantly withdrew the money from your pocket and his brow quirked. He rolled his hips cheekily as a temptation for you to be generous, but before you could place it on the stage by his hand, he gave a curt shake of his head. Your brows furrowed, and you curled your hand into a fist over the cash again. He let out an inaudible, breathy chuckle as he vaguely brought his hands up from his ankles to his thighs, glossing them over the skin before he playfully snapped his waistband.

Oh.

You had never done this before, since you had started coming here. You met his gaze again and steeled your nerves: this was the luckiest thing that had happened to you. You managed a smirk back as you impishly snaked the cash into the waistband, and his hand skimmed over yours to press the cash lower till it wasn’t visible. He winked at you before rightening himself back up and continuing the performance.

You felt winded as you watched him in awe; time felt slowed for those few moments there, so how did he get back to his routine so smoothly? No one seemed to take much notice to you—he was just getting some cash in a flashy way—so you hurried back to the edge of the crowd before someone might recognize you. You felt exhilarated, like your nerves were on fire, but, God, did you need a drink now. You were way too thirsty for this.

You lingered around the edge of the crowd till he finished, biting your lip as he spun a couple more times, performing his signature sexual moves before he ended with one knee hooked around the pole. Everyone around you echoed screams and cheers, but Haechan just gasped for air, sending out a charming smile as he leaned down to collect the money thrown at him.

And as he stood again, you were consciously aware that he was sporting a bulge this time; usually he was able to control it or at least conceal it, but maybe the set he wore wasn’t as protective. You slowly dragged your gaze up his torso and felt a shiver down your spine to see his eyes set on you again. He raised a brow in amusement as he spun around and made his way behind the curtain, little more to help you understand the behavior.

You tried to shake it off and looked around; his act was over, so maybe you could go get another drink then head home.

You had barely placed in your next order, a Manhattan this time, before you heard hushed bickering and then a call in your direction. Naturally, you glanced over but only drew in your brows out of confusion to see the bridal party inch your way. You uneasily glanced around to see if you should avoid them, but you really wanted the drink you just paid for.

“Yes?” You questioned hesitantly, your hands kept in your coat pockets out of discomfort. The woman who ushered you over sighed dramatically and glanced back at the bride who was blushing but scowling.

“Do you want a private show?” You had just received your drink and taken a sip, but you almost choked on it as she continued, “I scheduled one for her for her last night of freedom, but she’s convinced it’s cheating so she refuses, but I already paid and I’m not wasting my money.”

“Ladies—” You felt tongue-tied. “Why don’t you just have a private show?”

She chuckled. “He’s not really my type, though I do think he knows his way around the pole.”

You eyed her warily but had an inkling who she meant, and you tried to ignore the energy in your gut. “Which dancer?”

“Haechan,” she tilted her head and smirked lightly, “I thought I’d offer it to you because you seemed pretty into the show.”

“I—“ you swallowed with a frown as an unwarranted flush of red came upon your cheeks at the reminder of placing cash in the man’s panties. You glanced behind her at the private room, a room you thought you’d never be able to afford going in, before returning your gaze to her. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Is that a yes?”

“Y-yeah. Thank you so much.” You placed down your half-finished glass before you staggered past her in a slight daze, and she held a hand on your shoulder as she walked you over, almost overly enthusiastic about offering you a lap dance from a man you’ve lusted after for months.

With a quick “have fun!” She opened and shut the door on you, causing you to stumble into the dark room. You blinked a couple times to adjust, and then you saw the vanity in the corner, and the boy in front of it with a figure you instantly wanted to touch and mark.

Haechan stood there, lipstick in hand and hair askew on his sweaty forehead, looking at you with a dulled sense of shock that turned into one of amusement with a dangerous edge. “I was expecting the bride.”

You cleared your throat and prayed your voice wouldn’t waver. “Her friends said she didn’t want it; she sent me in instead.” He only raised his brow, turning back to the mirror and finished painting his lips a deep and sensual red.

“Last time I checked you weren’t married.”

“I’m not,” you shrugged, not being able to look away from his enchanting side profile. “Do I need to be to receive the dance?”

He glanced over briefly with a short snort. “Well it’d be a bit out of the norm to give a single woman the special.”

“There’s a bridal special?” You furrowed your brows. “This isn’t a regular lap dance?”

“No,” he capped the lipstick and placed it down gently, swiping a hand through his hair and patting his forehead with a towel. “I’m wondering if you really deserve it.”

You bit your lip at that. That vague response sent crazy thoughts through your head that shot straight to your core, but then again you weren’t sure if his words were personally hostile. “You don’t have to give it to me if you don’t want to.” You tried to seem nonchalant.

He paused in reapplying his eyeliner to click his tongue. “Do you not want it?”

“I do, but—”

“Then act like it, princess,” he shook his head so his curls bounced out in an intimation of an aftersex halo, and his piercing, accented eyes settled on you, his form stalking over and you felt yourself go stiff. “I’m here to do my job, and I’d rather not have to strain myself to please you.”

“Isn’t that the point of a lap dance?” You tried to quip back as his face neared, his hand ghosting over your cheek before lowering to your hand, pulling you over to a chair you hadn’t seen earlier.

“No, it’s not. I’m here to tease.” And with that he sat you down, picking his phone out of his waistband—where you had placed money earlier, but you rid yourself of the thought quickly—and flicking through a playlist. You watched in anticipation as he clicked on one, and a more sensual song than his performance began to play.

You thought all oxygen would leave your head when he placed down his phone and smoothly straddled your hips. You knew he heard your sharp inhale from the split second smirk that crossed his lips. “You wondered about the bridal special, right?” You could only manage a nod before he draped his arms over the back of your chair and began to roll his hips. “Well you can touch.”

He emphasized his words by pressing his hips into yours and his hands moved from behind you to land on your shoulders, smoothing down your arms and taking your jacket off in the process. You choked back a whine as you slowly brought your hands up to touch his waist where the fabric crossed, and he made a noise low in his throat. Your eyes snapped up to meet his and the corner of his lips quirked up in challenge, the sound of your jacket hitting the floor like the bell for a match to start.

You tightened your grip on his waist, stroking down his hips and he hummed appreciatively, his hands moving behind him to land on your knees, and now his hips circled on your lap. You felt your mouth grow dry as you stared at his crotch; he took notice of your gaze and jerked his hips, snapping them towards your face. Your hands smoothed down to his thighs and you gripped them, your nails digging into the skin. He made a whimpering noise barely blocked by his bitten lip, his head falling back away from you, and yet his pace never faltered. With his head away from you, your desire won over to try something.

Hesitantly, you drew your hand from his outer thigh to inner, circling your thumb into the skin right on the edge of his most sensitive part. You felt him shudder but he didn’t push you away, so with baited breath, you palmed him semi-roughly. He let out a loud gasp, his head rolling around to stare down his torso into your eyes and at your hand over his panties. You took that as encouragement to press a little harder and soon you felt all sense fly out the window because once the music ended, your other hand crawled over his torso and he leaned up and over to connect your lips, his hands moving from your knees to tangle in your locks.

By now you knew this was farther than he meant, farther than the bridal special includes, but maybe this was personal. You weren’t given much time to dwell on it because Haechan pulled you back harshly by the hair, separating from the bruising kiss with a gasp as he made quick work of biting flowers into your neck and leaving butterfly kisses. Your hands couldn’t find a steady place over his torso, feeling dazed as he tilted your head back down to meet your lips.

This time when you parted, you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your mouth at seeing his smudged red lip. You chased his lips again, causing his eyes to flutter and hands to softly press on your shoulders to have enough time to breath. “I hope you know I’d never let this slide with anyone else.”

“I’m sorry?” You panted, looking at his disheveled hair as he worked at stripping you of your pants.

“This bridal special? Usually I would never make an exception; if you’re not the person who was intended for the dance, I wouldn’t do it. But when it comes to you…”

“Do you actually know who I am?” You put a briefly-halting hand on his forearm to stop him in his ministrations. “Like you know—?”

“Your name and that you come every time I perform, yeah,” you could tell he was struggling to ignore his bulge in favor of responding to you but he was finding it increasingly hard. “I’m Donghyuck, by the way. I’d rather you call me that during sex.”

You let him continue as you dwelled on his words in a haze, surprised pleasantly at the news. You’re only torn out of it when your pants are off and you feel his kiss at the inside of your knee. Your eyes softened when he looked up at you with hooded eyes. He quickly kissed up to your inner thigh, pushing up your shirt and tugging so you take it off in a rush, his mouth pulling away so his hand could take its place over your panties. He hummed as he circled where a wet spot had formed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel any shame as he tugged down the sides to reveal yourself to him.

His delicately moved forward to kitten-lick at your core, a long stripe at your folds before mouthing at your nub. You tightened your grip on the armrest but couldn’t resist throwing your head back when he looked up at you innocently, his eyeliner messy around his big eyes and his gorgeous red lips pleasing you.

Donghyuck ate you out like his life depended on it, like he couldn’t have enough of your flavor and you’re not sure if he ever left you long enough to breathe. He sucked on your clit, dragged his teeth along your folds and dove his tongue past them to lap at your leaking flow. You had been making mindless sounds throughout his actions and once you felt an orgasm building, you tried to push him away as you twitched. His eyebrows furrowed and he grabbed your hand, placing it back down on the armrest as he went back to work at you with a new vigor, and suddenly you felt one of his fingers enter you without resistance, your hips jerking as you keen. Your orgasm built twice as quickly as he fingered at you relentlessly, almost excited to taste your juices on his tongue and the thought alone sent you over. You felt yourself go with a loud whine and trembling of your muscles, and when you managed to open your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of Donghyuck leaning back on his haunches, drawing his cum-coated finger into his mouth and sucking with a moan, his eyes lidding as he pulled it back out.

His eyes settled on your core once more and he thumbed at your clit, causing you to whine and squirm. He placed a hand on your hip and looked up, licking his lips. “You can handle another, right? You taste so sweet.” You made a low begging sound but he already dipped two fingers into your heat and began to drill them back and forth so quickly that a loud squelch was heard each time. You gasped and tried to kick away but he held against your weak attempts at stopping your overstimulation, and soon another orgasm ripped through you with a broken whimper. He brought his lips to your core and lapped at your slick with such satisfied fervor you weren’t sure you could handle actually having sex with him if you were already close to being winded from two orgasms from oral alone.

“D-Donghyuck—”

“Ready, princess?” And he stood and slowly pulled you up from sitting, holding you tightly by the waist to keep your shaky legs upright. He briefly met your gaze and you saw his smirk; he knew you were exhausted, that brat. You weakly dropped your hands to his waist, pulling at the waistband of the panties slightly teasingly, and he hummed as your hand slowly moved down to grab at his member through the fabric, and suddenly, you didn’t feel so tired.

“Your turn?” You asked, almost hopefully. The thought of deepthroating him, giving him as intense of pleasure and hearing him moan, sent a surprisingly strong rush of arousal through you again. He almost seemed to grimace as your other hand slipped under his top to trace his nipple, hardening it.

“No, not this time. I just want to be inside you.” You tightened your grip on his member with a pout but smiled a little teasingly and relented when he choked as you felt it twitch in your hand.

“Fine, but I want to repay you sometime.”

“Oh, trust me,” he hummed, turning you around and urging you forward to grab onto the back of the chair. “You will definitely have chances to.”

You bit your lip and looked over your shoulder to see him push down the panties he wore to pull out his member and you made an appreciative sound. He glanced up and smiled knowingly as he stroked himself a few times and quickly put on a condom that he must have grabbed from the dresser earlier.

You shook your ass back and forth and he chuckled as he stepped forward, smoothing a hand down your spine and hooking it around your hip, kneading the skin with his fingers. “You ready?”

“Does it seem like I’m not?” You smirked over your shoulder at him and he scoffed, smacking your ass lightly.

“I’m just checking, God, you brat. Let me know if it hurts.” And then he pushed his tip into your core. You made a groan in your throat at the feeling of the stretch, dropping your head to look down in between your arms. You felt him circle his fingers over your hips, but you weren’t sure if it was to help you relax or to distract him from drilling into you while you adjusted.

His lips fell on your shoulder and bit a few more possessive hickeys into the skin, and a hand snaked under your torso to close in on your throat lightly. “Head up.” His voice was teasing but warning, and the squeeze he gave before letting go as he started to move his hips sent a shock through you, and you bowed your back as to give him good access and to remind yourself not to drop your head.

Almost instantly, it was like he switched; he brought one foot up on the seat and began to rock his hips at a brutal pace, rolling his into yours at an expert angle. You let out a cry and your hands tightened on the seat, your head starting to fall as the feeling overtook you for a moment.

But only a moment was necessary for him to wrap your hair around his hand and yank it back up. You yelped at the sharp sensation then keened as his front went flush against your back for him to tut disappointingly, with an edge, “What did I tell you? Can you do nothing right, princess?”

“I-I’m trying not to.” You stuttered between your pants, sure your juices had to be leaking down your legs from his movements and words.

“Trying isn’t good enough,” he sighed, but it came out more like a hiss. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you cum if you can’t follow simple directions.”

“N-no, I can, I can,” you pressed your ass against him almost unconsciously in hopes it’d entice him to not deny you pleasure.

He only squeezed your ass for it, causing you to let out a raw gasp. “Don’t test your luck, brat. We’ll see how generous I feel.” He chuckled breathily—sadistically—and let go of your hair just enough for him to adjust his position to fuck you easier and hopefully reach your orgasm faster. It only seemed to be seconds before you felt the familiar feeling in your lower stomach.

“D-Donghyuck, please.”

“Are you about to cum? Already?” You could hear the smirk in his voice and it made your face flush in excited shame.

“Yes, I am,” you were finding it hard to think and keep your eyes open, and you knew you’d start to cry if he denied you.

His hand massaged at your waist and lower back before he kissed your shoulder, “I’ll let it slide this time. You can let go, princess.” And with a few more strokes, you came undone on his member, meeting his movements with your own hips with a whimper. Thankfully, he didn’t get onto you for dropping your head and quivering all over, and he held you up by the waist as he continued pouring into you to reach his own high, grunting as he managed to reach the edge. You almost came again by just how high-pitched and beautiful his moan was, and when you glanced over your shoulder, his closed eyes and open mouth were just as arousing of a sight.

But you were both spent, you knew, and he turned you around so he could collapse into the seat and pull you into his lap. You hummed in part surprise and comfort as you realized you were cockwarming him, his head on your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. You reached a hand back to card through his hair and he chuckled lightly, kissing at the nape of your neck.

“Sorry if I left marks,” he sighed, sounding unbelievably tired. Any sadistic or teasing qualities seemed to be out of his system.

“It’s okay,” you promise, “I love marks.”

“Good, I’ll leave more from now on.”

“From now on?” You looked at him best you could, seeing as he was still inside you.

“Did you not want to do this again?” He finally raised his head, his eyes opening and refocusing.

You felt yourself turn pink at how soft yet hot he looked in all his aftersex glory. “N-no, I want to but is this feeling driven or just sex?”

He hummed and kissed your jaw. “You think too much,” he sighed with a chuckle. “If I’m still here letting you sit on my dick, what do you think?”

You whacked his arm but turned in his lap to straddle him and rest your own head on his shoulder. “Shut up, but...good.”

He smiled sleepily and rubbed at your lower back, closing his eyes again and ignoring the fact that he was still at work.

Because right now, he was content. And he was sure one of his coworkers could buy him some time.

[paint-pilot]

i know i kinda just stopped updating on transition stuff (or...stuff in general) but i do feel like a Ruminating Post is in order in case anyone has thoughts or in case i come to a revelation because of it

so i’m getting top surgery in uhhh six days which. my feelings about are immensely complicated and definitely not suited for this post but regardless i will be both a) home near Jazz for an extended period and b) forbidden from riding. i’ll of course try and get 1-2 rides in wednesday and thursday but beyond that i’d really like to make a game plan for things i can do with him while i’m there (both so i can be a better owner and so i can avoid depressive spiraling because at this point being away from work/school is liable to kill me)

y’all might remember i did that Emmett bodywork clinic, so i definitely want to bring my book home and see about incorporating that into my current routine. Jazz historically loves the Masterson method and i’d like to become a better (hobbyist) practicioner myself. i’m just really curious if he’ll like the Emmett technique or not. Emmett is a light-touch therapy, where i feel like Masterson is a lot more handsy and involved. Jazz is very used to being manhandled (it’s a cornerstone of my training lol - anyone can handle him because he doesn’t give a damn how you do it), so initially i want to say he won’t much care for it. but on the other hand, he’s so damn sensitive and thinky, i have to wonder if he won’t appreciate this more subconscious approach to release. tbh i thought Emmett would be way harder to practice on humans (which we also did at the clinic), but i definitely found my skepticism a bit relieved watching it done. a lot of the jargon in the literature is kinda woo-woo, but the theory is sound. it just seems difficult to incorporate in practice - because it’s so touch-oriented, they really advise not rubbing/petting whatever you’re practicing on to avoid pulling attention away from the area you’re working on. but i wonder how that bleeds into other areas, or if i’m meant to make a distinction between Emmett sessions and other activities.

beyond that...dunno. first thought is +r, maybe just find some stupid but entertaining tricks to teach him so if i fuck up it isn’t that big of a deal. orrr we could get into lunge work and really try and get him fit again. (so i can then leave for school all over again lol). but idk where to really start with that - poles, maybe, and transitions, but i’m honestly not that experienced with lunging nor do i even own a lunge whip (yet). i really don’t know when i’m gonna be feeling well enough to work with him a lot, but i definitely want to give him all the attention i can while i’m there. more thoughts to come on his future, but for now i just want to have something to Do until i’m able to come back to work and figure out what the next steps are.

[ghostesez]

I’ve been seeing that post going around claiming that FFN is dying. So, I’ve decided to slowly bring my fanfics from FFN/AO3 here to Tumblr as well just so they’re archived in more than one place. They’re all kind of old, but I still want to save them.

This one is probably my best, Atramentous Inferno. Warnings for vivisection/dissection, blood, gore, and implied character death. Word count: 1480

Finally! Finally we caught that damnable specter. Now, we can get to work…

Nice to know that the new guns are calibrated correctly.

—

Danny’s eyes flickered open, struggling to take in even the small amount of light in the darkened room. Around him, familiar sounds and smells filled his head, cutting through his mind like daggers of onyx. Even before his vision fully adjusted, he was well aware that he was in a laboratory. The smell was of latex and bleach, the sounds of clicks a rough dragging of a pen over a roll of paper, no doubt monitoring him. Next to his head, a few feet above, an IV dripped a bright, green liquid through a small tube. The tube wrapped around the pole of the IV machine like a venomous viper before burrowing into his bare arm, the needle taped down snuggly against his skin. The sleeve of his right arm had been cut up to make access to the needle easier, his glove sat on the table next to him.

As Danny’s eyes began to adjust, he took in even more of his surroundings. It soon became obvious that he was not in FentonWorks. This lab was strange, alien and foreign. Danny lifted his head, only vaguely aware of the IV in his arm. He glanced around, observing the computer to his left, automatically logging his breathing and heartrate. Spread out on the desk across the lab was a mountain of paperwork. Scrawled across the papers in hastily, but well thought-out handwriting was a vast array of mathematical calculations and words that Danny could not quite make out. The clock on the wall read a bit past four. Danny was unsure which four it meant to convey.

Danny peered down his body, ready to take in what exactly was happening.

He screamed.

—

Stand back! Something’s happening.

What in the world? Rings? He’s… he’s changing? Oh my God. It can’t be…

It’s a trick. Don’t be fooled by the face. This is some defense mechanism.

It’s… it’s…

—

His suit was shredded, having been cut unceremoniously with dull scissors. The few scraps which remained hung limply upon what remained of his torso. Pins were stuck into flaps of skin, piercing through the flesh below. Grayish bones and greened organs were visible in a hole the size of a basketball. Danny could see the bones of his ribcage move with his expanding and contracting lungs. His intestines twitched as he moved, like a swarm of snakes in his gut. An organ he didn’t recognize was nearly sawn in half, a clean cut, as though the experimenter has taken great care in the slice. Danny felt his heartrate escalate, as the computer next to him confirmed. Danny beat his head back against the stainless steel table which held him, clenching his restrained hands as hard as he could.

What had happened? There was a fight… Skulker? Danny had defeated Skulker, sucking him into the thermos as a white van of the Guys in White screeched onto the scene. It all went fuzzy after that. Danny felt that he could vaguely remember other non-Guys in White ghost hunters being there. A scream in the distance was audible. He recognized that scream… Was it Jazz? No. It was Sam. It was definitely Sam. She had been there. Of course she had been there. It was a routine fight… It was only Skulker. He’d fought Skulker an uncountable number of times before.

Now, everything was silent, save for the whirls and clicks of machines. Danny couldn’t even hear the ticks of the clock on the wall. The clicks in between the silence became deafening. As he twitched, more of his ectoplasm tricked out the gaping maw in his abdomen. His chest rose and fell as he breathed. Everything went dark again and Danny slipped from consciousness into blissful blackness. He was only slightly aware of light pouring in as a door was opened.

—

I don’t care, I really don’t. I just don’t care who this is… or was. He’s a ghost. He’s a monster. We have to do this.

We can’t possibly vivisect him. I don’t understand why you think that we can. It doesn’t feel right… he’s… he’s…

No. He isn’t. This is what ghosts do. They trick you. Demean you. Manipulate you. Don’t give in. This must be done for the advancement of science. For the good of the human race.

How could you possibly…?

—

Danny awoke to a torrential flood of light. A lamp had been placed above his head, searing a brightness into his eyes. He shut his eyes, tightening his eyelids as much as possible in an effort to drown out the blinding incandescence. A squeak was heard and the lamp was pushed away. Danny slowly opened his eyes as a scientist came into view. Even under the complete, white hazmat suit and helmet, he could make out that this scientist was female. She leaned over him, hands gripped the examination table tightly. She made eye contact with him, or at least Danny thought she did. Her goggles were as black as midnight, shadowy abysses in their own right.

The scientist began to move around the room, gathering papers and tapping her pen on various machines. She ignored the ghost boy’s pleas for mercy and questions as to who she was and why she was doing this. In fact, she seemed completely indifferent to the struggling and pained child in the room with her. The blackness of her goggles made even worse to Danny. Not being able to see her eyes made its seem as though she had no soul at all- a monstrous being of pure hate and loathing.

After what seemed like days to the subject, the scientist wheeled over a small table used to hold scalpels. Stopping it a foot from the examination table. Danny began to hyperventilate in fear of what was happening. The scientist said nothing as she picked a blade and cut into his cheek, just below the eye. Red and green liquids alike flowed from the slice, staining his face and shoulder with blood and ectoplasm. The overwhelming scents of iron and chemicals filled the air. The scientist scoffed and leaned over a table behind her, jotting down a few sentences on the papers which were strewn there. After a moment, she chose another scalpel from the tray beside her. She carefully lifted a flap of skin near the top of his gaping wound, slicing further up. She exposed a broken sternum and began to pick away the bones there as Danny shrieked in pain. All he could see was red now, a bright, blinding red of pain.

—

The Ecto-Dejecto should keep him from changing shape again.

Maddie, what if he’s not changing shape? What if…

Don’t think that way. This isn’t Danny. This… thing… has never been Danny. It’s all a trick. Can’t you see that?

I can’t Maddie. I just can’t.

Fine, Jack. Leave. You’re a spineless oaf anyways. I’ll do this on my own.

—

As she chipped away at the bones protecting his heart, the scientist ignored a desperate and bleeding phantom. She stopped only occasionally to scribble on the papers behind her. Ultimately, she ceased chipping away the sternum, and began to break and yank out the ribs which interfered with her work. She took six in total, examining and observing each as she pulled them out. Each landed on the surgical tray as she went. Eventually, her path to the hybrid’s heart had become unobstructed.

Danny pleaded with her, promising to tell her everything if only she would stop. She did not listen, only choosing a new blade in which to use in her experiments. The scientist did not hesitate as the she placed the scalpel and dragged, slicing open his heart. Blood and ectoplasm in equal amounts gushed forward into the maw of his chest like a demented sort of floodgate. As he gasped in his final breath, Danny could make out a pair of purple eyes and a wisp of reddish-brown hair behind those goggles of inky blackness.

[bapyess1r]

Amphetamine

WARNINGS: cursing, age difference, fluffiness

CHAPTER 3

Sam’s POV

I watched her saunter off into the kitchen with a lump in my throat and my mouth hanging open. She really was something to look at. I couldn’t believe she was James’s goddaughter. She seemed so different from them all. Before my thoughts could get any dirtier, the baby threw up on my shirt and began to cry rather loudly. “Ugh! Jesus buddy!” I switched shoulders and hurried to the bathroom to clean up then begin babysitting duties.

After about an hour, I had sat through…. so much. I sat through a tea party, I’ve worn a tiara, gotten a makeover, I’ve played with dolls, I’ve done the hokey pokey probably about ten times, and yelled at Mickey Mouse multiple times because he couldn't hear me the first time we gave the answer to 1+1. All with a baby in my lap or in my arms. Safe to say, the kids were happy and starting to tire out. “You guys hungry?” I asked them, starting to get annoyed by this little cueball Caillou. It was time for a break and for the baby to take a nap. The little slugger was already tuckered out in my arms. I stood carefully to place him in the crib in his room and grabbed the baby monitor, hooking it through the loop in my jeans and bounced down the stairs, two steps at a time.

I could see her through the opening at the bar and smiled at her bobbing her head to some music that played over her phone. I took a moment to get myself together before strolling into the kitchen with a proud grin. “One child down, two to go!” I said slapping the counter next to her. I washed my hands before getting ready to make sandwiches for the girls. I caught her eye for a moment and she smiled as if she were impressed.

“Well look at you…” she sang, patting together what looked like burger meat. I could smell the seasoning from here and I had to say….

“It smells fantastic in here.” I reached for the towel to dry my hands and I could’ve sworn I saw her turn a bit red. “That’s all goin’ on the grill?” I asked, being a bit nosy and opening a container with marinating chicken. The scent hit my nose and I almost wanted to cry. “My goodness…You can come abuse my kitchen anytime.” She giggle-snorted in response and I laughed a little bit too hard about it. “How much left you got to make?”

“Um...almost done with these here, then I got these kebabs to skewer and that’s all. Then in about an hour, probably right when I get done, Anais is gonna arrive AND Godfather James is gonna come home.” The poor girl still looked so stressed out.

“Well how about this… Once I make the girls their lunch, I’ll help you out with the rest of the food. When James gets back you can go change for the night.” I said. She looked at me incredulously and scoffed with a sassy smile.

“What makes you think I had an outfit?” She laughed.

“Call it intuition.” I fired back. She rolled her eyes so I defended myself with further reasoning. “You’re friend is coming, you’re gonna be around a lot of people, you’re all messy from cooking, of course ya got another outfit.” I snickered, laying out my entire logic for her. And she laughed with the sweetest voice. My ears started to heat up a bit and I didn’t understand how to feel about it. I don’t get like this with many women. I laughed nervously before asking her, “Now where’s the bread and your knives?” She nodded in the direction of the bread box and I scoffed. “Leave it to James to have a fucking bread box.” I laughed to myself. I’m sure she’s noticed by now but James was always a man that chased after the bougie and classy things in life.

“That’s what I fucking said. It’s much more practical on top of the fridge-” This girl was telling me all the right things.

“Exactly!” I expressed my agreement with much more passion than was intended. So to cover my embarrassment I started working on those peanut butter-jellies.

“I said I wanted a wall of mirrors in my room so I could practice my dancing, and I was gonna get a bunch of those cheap seven dollar mirrors and line them up… This man buys me a mirrored WALL. A whole wall!” She added.

“Ridiculous! Like why spend so much on that shit?” I nodded in agreement and we burst into a mischievous laughter. She punched me on the shoulder and shushed me with a giggle.

“He could come home literally any minute!” She giggled. ‘My God, she’s precious…’ I thought with what probably looked like a goofy grin.

“So you dance, huh?” I asked. I wanted to know more about this girl. I knew it wasn’t gonna happen overnight but I had to get the random stuff out the way first.

“Ballet, contemporary, hip hop, jazz. The good stuff. I wanted to be a dancer but it seemed the only job I could get- with all that god damn training- was a burlesque dancer.” She told me as she placed the new burger patties on top of the baking sheet in its container. My ears perked up at the word.

“What is that like….fancy stripping?” I asked, trying not to sound too excited but also impressed.

“Basically… I had my own number in the show and everything.” At this point, I could tell she was trying to get a rise outta me. And it was working. I cleared my throat before begging the question.

“What did you do?”

“Oh a little leather here and fishnets there…. A bit of pole work… I know a few handcuff tricks. I was supposed to be the bad girl. Set to some Billy Idol.” She told me as she finished the patties and closed the lid on the container. She hip bumped me on the way to the sink to clean her hands. I smirked at her.

“You’ll have to show me some time.” I said as cool as possible. She laughed aloud and set the containers in the fridge.

“In your dreams, Mr. Drake.” She said patting my back. But I knew for a fact I was gonna be thinking about that when I laid my head down tonight. That’s when I had an idea and a sly grin crawled across my face.

“If I sang Billy Idol during the set, would you do it?”

“Do what?! My routine?!”

“Yeah…” I shrugged my shoulders attempting to be nonchalant about it. She put her hands on her shapely hips and shook her head.

“Depends.”

“On?” I didn’t mean to but I definitely sounded more eager about it.

“How drunk I am by the time you play. I’m really excited for tonight if I’m being honest.”

“Me too. I missed playing with the band while I was gone. When the neighborhood kiddos hit the sack is when the real fun begins.”

We continued conversation as I briefly exited to give the girls their lunch and put them down for a nap. When I came back, I helped her skewer the kebabs and bombarded her with shameless flirting. From what I could gather, we were both starting to really enjoy each other’s company. Working with her was going to be interesting to say the least. In a few moments, she’d received a text from her friend that she’d be touching down soon and I took over making the last of the kebabs while she went and changed. I took a moment to myself to look at the contrast between where I’d been and what I was doing now. Absolutely simping over this girl considerably younger than me, so much so that I’m making kebabs for her. Not that I’m mad about it. I actually enjoy cooking when I have the time to do it. Despite the age difference, there was something about us that worked really well and I was kinda curious to see where it’d go. I voiced a surprised chuckle to myself, I could hear some keys in the door. Through the bar window, I could see James in all his Miami Vice glory. “Goddaughter, I’m home!” He shouted kinda gently before noticing me in the kitchen. “Sam! You’re back, my man!” He smiled, throwing his keys on the counter and patting me on the back with a strong hand. “Barbara told me you’d be here helping Talia with the kids.”

“Uh… yeah. I met her last night and let’s just say I owe her a favor. The kids are napping, they’ve been fed, Talia is getting dressed to go do errands and pick up her…. her friend…” The moment I mentioned her, Talia had appeared simply walking down the steps. Her body clad in a purple and blue tye dyed Rolling Stones tee, split down the middle so far it exposed her black lace bra and tight black leather pants hugging her every curve. Her hair done up all extra curly n’ fluffy and her lips glossy, two rhinestones in the inner corners of her big brown eyes. She had a bag on her shoulder and a pair of heeled boots in her hands. She smiled kindly at James as she descended that staircase.

“Hey Sam, eyes off my Goddaughter.” He said in a half joking tone as Talia lightly hit him in the chest with her hand. I could feel my face flush and I chuckled nervously.

“Yes sir!” I said with a sarcastic salute. She briefly locked eyes with me and winked before kissing her Godfather on the cheek.

“I’m on my way to pick up Anna. The kids have b-” She said sitting in the bottom of the stairs to lace up her rather high heeled boots.

“Sam filled me in, sweetheart.” James smiled as he kicked off his loafers. She looked me surprised and this time, I winked.

“Then, I’ll be off!” She kissed her Godfather on the cheek and waved at me as she strutted out of the home. I was left with James.

“Be safe!” I shouted kinda late after she left.

When I’d finished the kebabs, I had excused myself from the house in order to prepare for tonight’s show. Mostly to shower and exchange this Hawaiian shirt for a black one.

[for-body-mind-and-booty]

Long time no write!

I know...I know the last time I updated you all about my journey it was November 2018. Shortly after Thanksgiving last year, I fell all the way off of my routine which had been stalling since going on vacation in July. 

I made a commitment to get back on my bullshit starting this past February. (Even made a fitness vision board) I was making good headway until being laid the fuck out by one of the strongest flus I’ve experienced in my adult life. Which, of course, was made worse by the fact that I’m still unemployed and uninsured. So, I was out of commission until early March. 

When March did come, I kicked into high gear. Heavy cardio to make sure, I got all the phlegm out and reboot. I also started making weight training a priority (using this plan). Lemme tell y’all, I almost died on those machines, but I got stronger. 

Fast forward to July, I’m getting stronger. I’ve made my weight routine a mix of machine/free/bar. The gym is a habit now, my diet is slowly but surely getting better. The concept of using fitness as investment in myself has really helped. I’m still not entirely sure where I want to go, but I know I want to incorporate dance at some point. I’d really like to take on hip-hop, jazz, and pole. I REALLY want to try pole dancing, however, there aren’t many co-ed pole studios in Chicago as of yet. I believe there’s only one offering classes to guys rn. (At some point, I’ll write an essay about how this is plays a role in rediscovering my femininity/sensuality as a gay man, or something like that.)

Until then I wish you the absolute best of health and happiness,

-J

[cherry-kissesxo]

dance, dance//sweet pea.

could you do an imagine where you and sweet pea are friends (no feelings) and you do the serpent dance and it opens pea’s eyes and he starts to like you and all that jazz xxx

Being best friends with the southside serpents had its perks. No one dared mess with you, too scared that they would get beat up. Especially because you and Sweet Pea were close. You weren’t dating and never would. Pea doesn’t date. He fucks and moves on. You understood that and you weren’t going to try and change him.

Today’s the day you finally do the serpent initiation. You were doing the dreaded serpent dance. The only person you told was Toni, who having done it herself, knew what you needed. She helped you pick a song and taught you a dance. She helped you pick your outfit and did your hair and make up. The bar was filled with serpents, playing pool and drinking. You knew Jug, Fangs and Pea would be out there. That made you nervous, you just hoped they wouldn’t be too angry at you.

“Good Luck, you’ll do great!” Toni smiles while finishing your hair. You hug her and smile.

“Thanks for everything, Topaz.” You smile.

“Anything for my best friend.” She grins. She hands you two shots of vodka for courage and you shot them back fast. You take a deep breath, hearing FP talking.

“We have a very special someone completing their initiation tonight. So please, cheer loud for her!” FP yells and the music begins.

Cherry by Lana Del Rey begins to play as you walk out swaying your hips.

love, I said real love, it's like feeling no fear, when you're standing in the face of danger, cause you just want it so much, a touch from your real love, its like heaven taking the place of something evil and letting it burn off from the rush

You begin your routine, slowly dancing against the pole.

darlin', darlin', darlin', i fall to pieces when I'm with you, i fall to pieces, my cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme and all of my peaches, are ruined

You look into the crowd and see all eyes are on your. You were wearing a black lace mesh top with a black leather skirt, with a green lace bralette underneath. You begin the final part of your routine. You grind against the pole, slowly bending to the ground. You lay on the floor and arch your back, looking into the crowd. Catching a certain serpents eyes. You notice the look he was giving you. He was staring at you, not looking anywhere else but at you.

Sweet Pea doesn’t do relationships. He fucks and leaves. But seeing you up on the stage, he couldn’t help but think what a relationship would be like with you. “You’re fucked.” Fangs mutters to his friend, noticing the way he was staring at you. Sweet Pea gulps and continues staring at you.

You finish off your routine, finishing in the splits, with your back to the crowd. You hear the music finish as you run your hands all over your body.

my rose garden dreams, set on fire by fiends, and all my black beaches (are ruined), my celluloid scenes are torn at the seams, and i fall to pieces, i fall to pieces when im with you

You hear the crowd roar. FP holds his hand out for you, you take it and he hugs you. “I’m so proud of you.” You hug him back and smile. He places his serpent jacket over your shoulders. “Our newest member, (Y/N)!” He shouts. The whole bar erupts in cheers and shouting. You run over to Toni and she hugs you. “That was sensational! You sexy bitch!” She laughs and hugs you. You laugh and hug her back. She leads you over to Fangs, Jug and Pea.

“That was amazing! You’re a serpent!” Jughead exclaims and hugs you. You hug him back and smile, “Thanks Juggie!”

“You sexy snake!” Fangs laughs and hugs you. “I’m so proud of you, my little serpent!”

“Thank you, Bestie!” You smile into Fangs shoulder.

You look at Sweets and notice he is staring at you. “Hi.” You smile and hugs him. His arms go straight around your waist and pulls you into his chest.

“That was-.” Pea mutters. “You were so unreal. That was-.”

“Thanks, Sweets.” You giggle into his chest.

Pea knew that he didn’t want to be friends with you after that. He knew that he was pushing his feelings away, too scared of admitting his own feelings. He liked you. Not like any of the other girls he has fucked. He had genuine feelings for you. He wanted a future with you.

[forever-more-never-again]

Avenger Burlesque (A Burlesque AU!)

*I do not own Burlesque or their characters. I am using this (2010) movie and it’s dialogue for an AU and want all credit to go to the original creators. I also do not own the Avengers or any aspect of the MCU*

THIS IS JUST AN AU!

This is a new series I will be working on. 

Pairing: Steve X Fem!Reader, minor Bucky X Reader

Word Count: 1691

Warnings: Erotic dancing. Swearing. drinking. 

Masterlist

Georgia- Wanda

Damon- Vision

Nicki - Natasha

Cher- Maria

Vince-Fury

Sean-Tony

Mark-Bruce

Marcus- Bucky

Jack- Steve

Ali- [Y/n]

Loretta-Pepper

Alexis- Clint

Natalie- Peggy

Mr. Anderson-Loki

Harold Saint- Thor

Coco-Jane

[Y/n] sat on top of the Falcon bar, and began splitting the tips. “That’s sixteen dollars fifty cents for you, and sixteen dollars fifty cents for me.” She pushed some bills and coins over to Pepper. The elderly lady put the cash in her apron, smiling at [Y/n].

[Y/n] glanced around at the empty bar, “Pepper, I’m leaving.”

Pepper turned to clean part of the bar and asked, “What do you mean?”

“As soon as I get my check, I’m gone.”

Just then, Sam walked out from his office. [Y/n] swiveled on the bar, dropping her legs over, “Sam, I need my check before you leave.”

Sam reached into the tip jar and pulled out a twenty, without looking at [Y/n] he muttered, ��Payday is at the end of the month.”

[Y/n] stood up off the abr, crossing her arms, “You still haven’t paid us from last month! I need my money, Pepper’s got night school to pay for.”

Sam started walking out of the bar, before leaving, he turned and glared at [Y/n], “If you have a problem with management, you can leave a complaint in the review box. I’ll be back for the dinner rush.”

As soon as the door swung shut behind Sam, [Y/n] opened the register, “I sure as hell won’t be.” She began pulling bills out.

Pepper came up behind her, wringing the rag in her hands, “What are you doing?”

[Y/n] sighed, “I’m only taking what he owes me, not a penny more.”

Pepper let a small smile across her face, she held a soft spot for the young woman. Their town in Ohio was a small one, so she knew [Y/n] since she had been a kid. “You take that money, Sam will come after you.” She warned.

[Y/n] waved the money, smiling, “He’ll have to catch me first. Here,” She shoved a few folded up bills into a pocket on Pepper’s apron, “That should cover your tuition for the month. Which reminds me,” She pushed Pepper towards the door, “You’re almost late for your class.”

Pepper stood her ground and pulled the folded bills out of her apron and handed them back to [Y/n], “I can wait to pay my tuition. You keep what he owes you, and I’ll deal with Sam, okay?”

Pepper smiled once more before leaving. [Y/n] stood in the middle of the empty bar for a few minutes before walking to the door and flipping the open sign to closed. She pulled out a quarter from her apron and walked over to the old jukebox in the corner.

Choosing a song, she pulled a chair up onto the karaoke stage and posed, as the melody started rising. Slowly she began to sing, her powerful voice filling the room, “OHHHH! Sometimes, I get a good feeling. I get a feeling that I never never had before. And I just gotta tell you right now, I believe, oh I really do believe that...something's got ahold of me!”

She belted out the lyrics, grabbing a mic part way through and dancing a small routine on the small stage. When the song finished, she brushed her [h/c] hair out of her face and panted, with a giant smile on her face.

She left the bar with a small skip in her step. Reaching her trailer house, she began packing a small suitcase with some clothes, and a few books. The last thing she packed was a small picture frame that showed a young woman holding a child’s hand as they walked through a park.

Being extra careful with it, [Y/n] Laid it in the suitcase.

Soon she was on a bus to New York. She fell asleep against the cool window as she dreamed about all the possibilities awaiting her.

When she woke up, it was a new day. And she was in New york.

“Thank you.” [Y/n] told the old lady who handed her a key. She was renting a small apartment and even though it was small and dingy, [Y/n] couldn’t help but smile. She was in New York!

That afternoon, she walked around the Central area, with a newspaper in hand, she went bar to bar, club to club, looking for a place that would hire her to dance or sing.

By dusk, she was discouraged. Discarding the newspaper, she bought a slurpee from a vender and just walked around, admiring the lights in the night sky.

As she walked past a tower construction site, she saw neon lights and turned, startled to see a beautiful woman leaning over the railing of the one story building, dressed in a tutu and stockings, and a bustier she was gorgeous.

The woman smiled down at [Y/n], but then a man came out, and pulled the woman inside.

[Y/n] was intrigued. She dropped the half empty slurpee into a garbage bin and walked through the front door. As she walked down smoke filled hallways filled with people loitering around, she admired the old school photos on the wall.

Finally she walked through a doorway that opened into a giant room. There was a man in a ticket box right next to the door.

As soft music began to fill the room, the man turned to [Y/n], “Clint is the name. Here at Avengers tower, we may not have windows, but we do have the best view in New York. Twenty bucks.”

[Y/n] reluctantly pulled her gaze away from the women who were posed on the stage, erotically touching each other as the music swelled. “What is this place? A strip club?” She asked Clint.

Clint, who was wearing heavy eyeliner and a funky hat with an arrow through it gasped and put a hand to his chest like he was insulted, “A strip club? Honey, I should wash your mouth out with jagermeister. The only pole you’ll find in there is Darla the shot girl.”

[Y/n] gave him a weird look, and turned back to the stage at the front of the room as a woman rose behind the girls and gave a sultry look to the crowd of drinking patrons.

“Honey, I got a club to run here.” Clint sighed, holding out a hand.

[Y/n] struggled internally with herself. She had limited money left after putting down a deposit on the apartment and traveling to New York. Finally she pulled a twenty out of her waller and passed it to Clint.

Clint gave her a gracious smile and extended his hand out to envelope the club, “Enjoy.”

The woman who stood behind all the barely dressed girls began to sing, “Show a little more, show a little less, add a little smoke, welcome to Burlesque.”

[Y/n] edged towards the bar, never taking her eyes off the stage as the girls all stood up and began dancing. Some brought chairs out onto the stage and did splits upside down on them. Some grinded against each other and others did ertoci dances with each other, all the while the older woman still sang barely moving from her regal pose in the center of the stage.

“You can dream of Jane, do it at your risk. The triplets grant you mercy but not your every wish.”

[Y/n] sat on a stool by the bar, watching as the woman called names in the song and the corresponding girl came up and posed next to her provocatively.

“Behave yourself says Wanda.Welcome to Burlesque. Everyone is buying, Put your money in my hand. If you want a little extra, Well, you know where I am. Something very dark Is playing with your mind. It's not the end of days, It's just the bump and grind. Show a little more, Show a little less, Add a little smoke, Welcome to Burlesque.”

A bartender leaned over and tapped [Y/n] on the shoulder, “Can I get you a drink?”

[Y/n] turned and was faced with an attractive blond man with blue eyes, that were heavily lined with eyeliner. He was dressed in a sleeveless tux shirt and a bowler cap.

[Y/n] leaned against the counter with a smile, “Only if you’re buying.”

The man smirked as he poured her a glass of petron and slid it over to her, “Welcome, to New York.”

“Thank you.” [Y/n] took a sip.

“So where are you from?” The bartender asked as he wiped down a glass.

“Ohio.” [Y/n] responded, glancing back at the stage. The girls had ended their song and now a band was showed off on the side playing an upbeat Jazz tune.

“Kentucky!” The bartender smiled and gestured at his chest, “We’re practically related.” He joked.

[Y/n] laughed, “Thought you looked familiar.” She turned back to look at the stage as she heard the bartender behind her.

“Hey sweetheart, want to do your job?”

She turned around to see the bartender walking back towards her after his talk to a waitress who was currently wrapped around a patron. [Y/n] pointed a finger towards the stage, “Who does a girl have to flirt with to get from here, to there?”

The bartender leaned against the counter, his face close to [Y/n]’s, she got lost in his blue eyes for a moment. “Is this you flirting?” He teased.

[Y/n] laughed, the sound bubbly and free, “With someone wearing more eyeliner than me?”

The bartender pretended fake hurt as he gasped. [Y/n] smirked.

The bartender pointed to a door on the opposite side of the stage and band, “Through that door there. Ask for Maria. She’s your man, flirt away.”

[Y/n] shot back the rest of her drank and hopped off the stool, “Thanks.” She smiled back at the bartender.

Before she took a step he called out, “Ohio?”

She turned back to him, “Yeah?”

He held out a card, with a smile, “Use my name.”

[Y/n] glanced down at the card, smiling back up at the bartender she began walking away, “Thanks, Steve.”

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @littlestfangirl @rainydaysrnevergrey @not-jk-rowling @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi

Avengers Taglist:

@jadepc

[theloniousbach]

DROPPING INTO SMALL’S JAZZ CLUB FROM THE ROAD

ALMOST COUCH TOUR: JACK WALRATH, 3 DECEMBER 2021 and NICOLE GLOVER, 9 DECEMBER 2021

I’m traveling to see family and finding ways to process and relax and be normal while making this important contribution. I have a charming AirBnB to give some space, but I’m one time zone over so I go to bed ridiculously early. But I also get up similarly and the others don’t get rolling until mid-morning. So my wake up routine includes yoga and a set of jazz.

And the jazz is nicely old and new with a shared aesthetic of pushing the boundaries. Jack Walrath led a quintet of Mingusites through his own quirky tunes while rising star who knows the tradition she extended played deep cut tunes by Kenny Dorham, Geri Allen, Wayne Shorter, Andrew Hill, and a Chick Corea tune recorded with Joe Henderson. Smart exploratory stuff.

Walrath was in the muscular Changes band with George Adams and Don Pullen with Dannie Richmond of course and Mingus himself. Wayne Escoffery, Orrin Evans, and Joe Martin are all associated with Mingus Dynasty, Mingus Big Band, and/or the Mingus Orchestra. Only drummer Ronnie Burrage didn’t have such a connection, but he’s a veteran and in many ways was the special sauce as he had some of Richmond’s flair and quirkiness. Walrath opened with what Mingus called Black Bats and Poles on Changes Two but was born Rats and Moles. It came back to me with its frontline horns, churning bass and drums, and angular comping. Norris Junction was also Mingus-y as a nicely off-kilter blues. I also particularly liked Moods for Muhal in the second set which was, yes, moody. Walrath gives extended back stories to the tunes in amusing comments and it was also fun to watch him explain the arrangements to the band. It was fun to realize that Orrin Evans has that connection to the Mingus Organization and to then put all the other times I’ve heard him—from The Bad Plus to the Captain Black Big Band especially—in that context. Escoffery is a big rich player who fit right in too. I haven’t heard Walrath since the Mingus days and I can’t place trumpeters, but here and back then he has a versatility of tone that serves the tunes. So this was a leader/composer set. Rats and Moles was a fitting re-entry to the tunes. They did a short version in the first set and a longer one in the second of a Stella by Starlight contrafact called Dark Star and then Wedding March of the Quintapeds with a long composed horn line, but I still would single out M for M and Norris Jct.

Nicole Glover was atypically voluble but typically articulate in announcing the presence of her mentor George Colligan who got her her first Small’s gig a decade ago and what might be her new rhythm section of Tyrone Allen (who was clearly happy playing) and Kayvon Gordon. While it may be what I choose to believe, but she seems to be a deeply thoughtful player with worked out ideas about the music. Rather than compose in the edge and quirkiness, she found it in a Kenny Dorham that churned like early Quartet Coltrane, the Allen which was more relaxed but nicely complicated, a Shorter ballad which was handled with great plaintive thoughtfulness (my favorite), the Hill that gave the band puzzles to solve to our reward, and Corea’s Crimson Lake which fit in with the program. I’m very glad that Glover seems to have a regular monthly Thursday gig at Small’s. The second set opens a jam session so I watched their first tune as a band but bailed as other capable players started to sit in. But I want to keep an eye on Glover’s development, so I’d had enough.

I’d had enough and this was what I needed for this trip.

[rising-above-stars]

Dance Club AU Headcanons

As promised, here are the headcanons I came up with last night

Some extra dance hcs:

Brooke: ballet, hip hop, lyrical hip-hop

Rich: mainly hip hop and breakdancing

Jenna: sticks strictly to hip hop

Christine: jazz queen, can do the Charleston better than anyone, loved 1920′s dancing and the fashion of the era too. she also does hip-hop and whatever style her theatre class currently requires her to do

Chloe: acro dance, gymnastics, and hip hop

Jeremy: contemporary, Michael forced him to do hip hop

Jake: like Rich, he mostly does hip hop and breakdancing, secretly into ballroom dancing. Only Chloe and somehow Jenna know about this

Michael: hip-hop. He says that’s it but he knows how to tango, salsa and flamenco dance

Dustin: no one really knows what he does. He’ll be in the jazz class one day, next day he’s not there. He does that with all dance classes

Madeline: she doesn’t do dance.

Chloe used to do gymnastics competitions, she has a few awards and was a regional champion for a few years in a row. It’s what got her into dance. She got a scholarship to the school she’s at with the rest of the squad for gymnastics and acro dance

Michael once taught Brooke and Chloe how to salsa

They did a dance routine, adding their own spice to it

Michael was proud of them for winning

Rich, Jake, and Michael love doing ridiculous and complex dances

Jenna, Chloe, and Brooke retaliate with equally complex dances

Chloe pole dances

“It’s for fitness, dumbass!“ She hit the back of Rich’s head

Michael choreographs his own dances

Only Jeremy and Thomas know

Brooke does set design and Chloe bribed Mr Reyes with hot pockets to let her do costume design for the theatre class

Christine couldn’t be more thrilled

Brooke and Madeline are good friends

Chloe is less than thrilled

Christine manages to convince the girls to do the dance for Candy Store from Heathers

She discovers that Jenna, Brooke, and Chloe are like the embodiment of Duke, MacNamara and Chandler

Although Chloe would much rather be Veronica

Christine is fine with that. She’s been dying for a chance to say ‘SHUT UP HEATHER’ on stage

No one is overly fond of their sweet Christine playing a character like Heather Chandler but she loves it

On the topic of Heathers, none of the girls likes the reboot

Madeline tries to find the good points in it because she loves those gritty teen shows like Riverdale but she just can’t

Christine and Brooke like to do that little shuffle dance from the Breakfast Club

Michael once did a dance in a Star Wars costume for Jeremy. Jeremy didn’t know how to react

The others just stared

Dustin filmed it

They have movie nights sometimes and watch old movies most of the time:

Christine chooses Phantom of the Opera, Footloose, or The Great Gatsby

Chloe chooses Heathers or the Breakfast Club

Michael says Star Trek and Rich says Star Wars

They have debates a lot

Jenna chooses Indiana Jones 

Jeremy chooses It

Contrary to popular belief he loves horror and gore

Madeline chooses Dirty Dancing and the Virgin Suicides

Brooke chooses any movie that had Audrey Hepburn in it

Dustin chooses the Back to the Future series

Brooke sometimes does ridiculous dances and crumping to cheer people up and make them laugh

The boys once recreated one of the girls’ dances. Complete with booty shorts and heels

Dustin and Jenna filmed it

The girls just lost their shit

Jeremy stared at them and shook his head before he just l e a v e s

Michael, Dustin, and Madeline sometimes dress up in 90s, 80s, and 70s fashion respectively for the a e s t h e t i c and to annoy Jeremy, Jenna, and Chloe

Christine sometimes joins them in whatever period style clothing she can get or 1920s fashion

Brooke and Rich dress up in 60s flower power get-ups or 50s/60s outfits

Chloe and Michael d i e when they see them in poodle skirts and leather jackets

[aacinedinburgh]

Week 2: Glasgow, Portobello Beach, & the First Week of Classes

And we're back! Quick note, in case you didn't know: clicking on the pictures will open them and improve the viewing resolution! Without further ado...

Classes started this week, although it's a pretty light academic week. Two of my classes have asynchronous lectures, and the other two only have one lecture a week. Seminars and tutorials, which are smaller in-person sessions, don't start until next week.

Basically, that means that I have time to take a day trip to Glasgow on the first day of school. As I learned in the museum I went to (more on that later), Glasgow was in a post-WW2 downward spiral essentially from the collapse of the industrial sector, but in the 80s, began to reinvent itself as a center of arts, music, and culture. So now, Glasgow is the big Scottish stop for touring musicians, conventions, etc.

One of my favorite artists, dodie, is currently touring the UK, and when I saw she was performing in Glasgow, I knew I had to go. I only have class until 10am on Mondays, so I decided that I might as well make a day of it and explore the city.

The (doubledecker!) bus ride to Glasgow was only supposed to take about an hour, but there was apparantly a gas leak on the M8, so it ended up taking a little over two hours, and I got there in the early afternoon. The good news is I found a really great Indian restaurant for lunch. The best part? The signs hanging inside:

After lunch, I walked over to Kelvingrove Park, in Glasgow's West End. Despite the gray skies and sprinkling rain, there were still tons of people out having picnics with their kids or walking their dogs. Inside the park is Kelvingrove Art Museum and Gallery. There was a little bit of everything inside: big natural history exhibits, the history of Glasgow, old French paintings, and an Ancient Egyptian sarcophagus. The grandiose halls were probably my favorite part, though:

After the museum, I walked through the University of Glasgow campus. One of the main buildings gave off serious Hogwarts vibes. I also walked through the Glasgow Botanical Gardens. Unfortunately, I got there late enough in the afternoon that the greenhouses were already closed, but it was still a nice walk-through.

After the Gardens, I took the bus over to George Square, in the city centre. The bus was rickety as hell. Like, shaking so badly it made Wile E. Coyote on a jackhammer look stable. Nevertheless, I arrived safely. George Square has a whole bunch of big grand buildings, with pillars and arches and domes and the like. I grabbed some fish and chips while I was there before catching another bus down to the concert venue.

Oh my god, y'all, the concert was so good. Shoutout first to the girls in line who let me borrow their portable phone charger and to the girl from Minnesota who was also alone, so we stuck together through the night. Seeing dodie live was such a dream, and it was a great show: the lights, the string quartet, plus getting to stand, I don't know, 10 yards away from the stage? Amazing.

I was kind of nervous about getting back to the bus station and to Edinburgh by myself at night, but luckily, lots of people were headed to the same places, and since probably 90% of the people in attendance were women under 25 (the guys behind me in the picture are honestly some of the only men I saw all night), it ended up being a gaggle of girls all going to the bus station together. It was so weird seeing Edinburgh at the dead of night - it was completely deserted. Even on the most busy streets downtown, Princes St, the Royal Mile, etc., there was not a soul or car to be found. Eerie. If I hadn't been walking back to campus with other people, I would have been super unnerved.

Thanks also to everyone who was checking in that I had not, in fact, been murdered. Gold medal goes to Schyler "please tell me you are not alone rn" Rowland. I love and appreciate you.

I truly enjoyed my visit to Glasgow, but I'm honestly glad that I'm living in Edinburgh instead. Glasgow felt much more like a big city, with all the positives (cool venues, events, and things to do) and negatives (some slightly spooky, grungy, industrial areas) that come with that. Edinburgh has this cosy village feel, even with the 500k+ population, and I'm so glad I get to experience that!

I also made my way over to Portobello Beach, Edinburgh’s coast looking out over the bay. There were lots of dogs and fun stands set up along the beach - I grabbed some gelato from a cart! It wasn’t sunny, but that’s not unusual for Edinburgh and it was beautiful nonetheless.

It's also been a week full of dance classes! This week I went to tap, contemporary, hip hop, and a pole dance class, and next week I'm headed to jazz, as well as African and swing dance classes. You have to pay for membership and attendance to events at the student organizations here, but these first two weeks of the semester are free trial periods, so I'm trying to cram as many classes in as possible. If I get videos of routines I do throughout the semester, I'll upload them here. :)

Stray observations:

- The Glaswegian (yes, that's what they're actually called) accent is so thick. Like the accents from Brave upped significantly. A man at the subway station spoke directly to me for 30 straight seconds, and I understood exactly zero of the words that came out of his mouth. Thank God none of my professors have thick accents. One of them has an Italian accent, which I definitely did not see coming and is also very fun.

- Favorite thing I saw in Glasgow: a hot pink PSA sign that read "be a tidy weegie." Amazing.

- Apparantly spiral notebooks aren't a thing here? I spent about 2 hours going from store to store, and they're not on the UK Amazon either. I ended up with a huge notepad that I put sticky tabs in to section off my classes.

- My respect for pole dancers has just skyrocketed. It was a half hour class, and my wrists are sore (they were popping in and out the whole time, haha), my shoulders hurt, my knees are bruised, and I've got a friction rash on my forearm. It was so fun to try something new, especially something I've wanted to try for a long time now, but seeing as I have to pay for all the orgs I choose to be a part of, I might stick to a style of dance that's a little less painful.

- Happy Bi Visibility Week! To my many bi friends and family, I love you and am so thankful to have you in my life. <3

See you all next week! I have some fun adventures planned in the meantime. ;)

[prettyxlittlexwriter]

Vday Challenge Day 2 - Forgotten Pasts

Day 2 - Song by a male artist - Pour Some Sugar On Me - Def Leopard (Click the link for a PG-13 Pole Dance Class Routine that i used for inspiration!) Lyrics in Bold

Dean Winchester x Reader (With a dash of Sam!)

Confession - I had this story in my head and needed a song to match it to. I did it backwards. I’m sorry! BUT! Thank you for reading and thank you to all the amazing writers in all sorts of fandoms who are participating in our #2018 Vday Challenge! I love you all so much!

Smoothing down your shirt, you gaze at your reflection in the mirror and shift uncomfortably. Your plaid, pleated skirt barely covers your bottom, your thigh high stockings are itchy and your push-up bra is digging into you something fierce.

“Let’s get this over with,” you mutter, steeling yourself as you leave your room and knock on the motel room door next to yours. Dean Winchester opens the door and his jaw drops.

“Sweet Saint Cecilia… she’s a school girl,” he mutters lowly.

“Dean,” Sam hisses, appearing behind him and tossing you an apologetic smile.

“And what are you supposed to be?” you glare at Dean, dressed in his Fed suit and tie get up.

“FBI,” he replies, flashing you a badge.

“Female Body Inspector,” you read aloud before rolling your eyes. “Nice. You will fit right in at this frat party, along with Officer Naughty over here,” you say, flicking your head towards Sam, who was wearing a police uniform.

“Look, let’s just get in, get the spell book and get out,” Sam says. You nod and head for the Impala, thinking in spite of the ridiculous costumes, the Halloween party that the Fraternity was hosting was the perfect cover. You’d been able to trace all the strange happenings in this college town to a house on Fraternity Row and best you could tell, the brothers were using the spells as part of their pledge recruitment and initiation.

You can hear the music thumping as Dean parks Baby a block away. The late October air has a chill as you hurry across the lawn, your body barely covered. You shiver as with each passing second, you are growing more and more tired of this horrible slutty school girl ensemble.

Crossing the threshold of the huge, old Frat House, you are met with wall to wall people, in costumes of all kinds, all with beer cans or red solo cups in their hands.

“Looks like slutty school girl was a theme this year,” Dean yells over the loud music, glancing around at all the college co-eds. “Slutty cat, slutty witch, slutty pirate wench…”

“Shut up and find the book!” You shout, pushing away from him. You weave your way through the crowd, into a large room where a DJ was set up next to a stage, complete with stripper pole, where several drunk girls were doing their best sexy pole dances. You rolled your eyes, smiling wryly to yourself as you continued to search.

You met up with the guys at the other end of the house.

“Nothing down here,” Sam shouts. “We have to get upstairs.” You glance towards the large, grand staircase, which was currently being blocked by two big, burly Sigma Kappa Alpha brothers. Putting on your best drunk girl act, you stumble towards the staircase.

“Need a bathroom,” you hiccup, trying to push past.

“Upstairs is off limits,” one of the dudes says, gripping your arms tightly and spinning you around. “Bathrooms down the hall on the right off the kitchen.” Frowning, you stagger back to Sam and Dean

“We need a distraction,” Dean yells. “I’m gonna pull a fire alarm.” As he began to scan the room, the Def Leppard classic “Pour Some Sugar On Me” began to pump from the large speakers and you were struck with a better idea.

“Wait, no,” you say, placing a hand on his arm. “I got this. Just be ready to go as soon as their not watching.” With renewed determination you muscle your way through the crowd towards the stage. Untucking your white button down shirt, you knot the ends just below your bust and tug on the elastic holding your pony tail, shaking out your long hair. Placing both hand so the stage, you hoist yourself up and turn to face the crowd, your eyes landing on Dean and Sam, both with eyebrows raised, watching on with a slightly confused expression. You force yourself to look away, to shove down your nerves and humiliation as you cross the stage, wrapping your hand around the cold steel pole. Reaching out, you hook your right ankle around the base and push off with your left foot, sending yourself twirling around in a circle.

Razzle ‘n’ a dazzle 'n’ a flash a little light, Television lover, baby, go all night, Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet, Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah

Listening to the music, you let yourself go and allow muscle memory to take over. The hair flips, the hip rolls, it all begins to come back to you. You stop, aligning the pole with your spine, shimmying down and back up, your body moving in time with the music. With another hair flip, you turn and kick your leg up high, hooking your knee around the pole, you spin again, this time, hooked onto the pole by only your leg, your skirt falling back, exposing your black panties and lacy stockings, eliciting more whoops and whistles from the college guys.

Listen! red light, yellow light, green-a-light go!, Crazy little woman in a one man show, Mirror queen, mannequine, rhythm of love, Sweet dream, saccharine, loosen up, Loosen up

“Son of a…” Dean breaths, his eye trained on the girl who, up until a few second ago, he was sure had never been a naughty anything. Even the other girls on stage had moved away and were watching on in awe, clearly realizing they were in the presence of a master.

“Wow,” Sam agrees. “Dean… it’s working, look!” Dean yanks his eyes away from the stage long enough to see that the two beefy guard dogs were also transfixed on your sexy display. Sam takes off towards the stairs while Dean watches on, jaw slack. The last time he saw a display this sexy, he’d had to pay a hefty door charge and burn through a stack of one dollar bills.

Some guys near the stage are starting to get rowdy, all jazzed up from the raw sex appeal on the stage and Dean is jarred from his stupor, shoving drunk bodies out of his path. You are filled with a strange mix of relief and mortification when you glance down and see him standing there. His eyes are dark and serious and you know that you will never, ever hear the end of this.

You got the peaches, I got the cream, Sweet to taste, saccharine, Cause I’m hot, say what, sticky sweet, From my head, my head, to my feet

Dropping down to your knees, you slap both palms on the ground and grind your body against the stage. As you glance up up through the hair that had fallen over your face, you see Sam at the back of the room signaling to you. You push yourself up and straightening your clothes, you crouch down at the edge of the stage, placing your hands on Dean’s broad shoulders as he grabs your waist, lifting you off the stage and setting you back down on the ground.

“Sam’s got it,” you tell him, but he’s looking at you like he’s forgotten every word in the English language. Feeling an embarrassed flush creep up your neck, you grab his hand and tow him towards the exit.

“Way to go, you lucky bastard,” an inebriated guy tells Dean as he passes, slapping him heartily on the back. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek as you rejoin Sam, the three of you making a hasty exit.

You all but run for the car, the thin layer of sweat coating your body making you shiver in the cool night air. You slide into the backseat and no one speaks as Dean starts the engine. He pulls away from the curb, navigating back to the motel while Sam flips through the worn pages of the old book he’s just confiscated. Your ears are burning as you untie your shirt and try your best to tuck it back into your skirt. After several long, uncomfortable minutes, Dean clears his throat.

“Anyone need anything at the store before we get back?” he asks and you glare at the back of his head. “Cause I have a craving for something… sugary.”

“God damn it, Dean,” you shout. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sam said, twisting in his seat to face you. “But that was…”

“Stop, please,” you beg.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Dean coaxed. “You have to tell us where you learned to, uh, dance like that.”

“So you guys are the only ones who get to have pasts?” you huff. “You’ve got your secrets, this is one of mine. Can we just leave it at that?”

“Sweetheart, I’ve seen a lot of strippers in my day,” Dean pushes, “That was no amature night.”

“Sam, please tell me there is a spell in there to erase someone’s memory,” you whine.

“No way, this memory is mine,” Dean replies, tapping his head. “Forever and ever and ever…”

You cross your arms over your chest and sink down deep into your seat, glaring out the front windshield. As soon as Dean pulls back up to the motel, you’re out of the car and crossing the parking lot to your room. You want to get out of these clothes and wash away the memory of tonight’s display, along with all the other bad memories it brought back to the surface. As you shut and lock the door behind you, you realize that each of the times you’ve dragged your ass back to your room covered in guts, blood, and death, not one of those times did you feel as gross as you did tonight.

To be continued……………….