#god I can’t wait to accessorize them

[organicsaturdaychurch]

Got these guys for christmassss!!! Still working out names for everyone but the millennium furbyyyy if I can muster up the energy I’ll get some picture with my at least my long bois by the treeee no promises though I’m a tired man

[nickfowlerrr]

it’s a love story, baby, just say yes.

pairing: neighbor!bucky x curvy!reader

warnings: not the conclusion i was hoping for but that just means there’s more of these two to come. this feels like such a tease of a chapter lol i’m sorry. no smut. a lil tinny tiny bit of angst from reader’s perspective. mostly cute idiots in love. if something needs to be tagged please let me know.

words: 3.2k

notes: is the title a little on the nose? yes, yes it is. and it took me forever to land on. 💀 there will be more, i promise. sorry for the wait. thank you for reading, i hope you enjoy this little update. 🫶🏻 also also! happy birthday again to the anon who messaged me about this next part. hope your day was wonderful ✨💗

series masterlist / character outfit inspo

Breathe.

In.

Out.

Easy.

Just like that.

You can’t stop looking in the mirror.

You look…you look…god. You look terrified. 

Fuck.

This was a bad decision. A really bad decision.

What the hell were you thinking?

What the hell was he thinking?

God, you feel like you can’t breathe again.

Focus.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

You smooth your skirt, pulling it once again for no reason. None other than habit, you suppose.

You look over yourself. Not awful, you think. You’re wearing your staple black long sleeve top with your high waisted houndstooth skirt. It’s cold outside, so you’re in your black thigh high boots. The ones that took you ages to find but have been your favorite since coming across them. You swear this pair was made in heaven because it felt like a miracle finding ones that actually fit your legs properly. You’ve accessorized with your trusty belt and your favorite jewelry and your hair somehow looks the best it has in days. Makeup is flawless and though you try to find something to fix…you just can’t. 

And still, there’s that gnawing feeling telling you that you’re doing something wrong - that you are wrong.

You don’t know why you’re being so down on yourself today, but it seems like you’ve poked at each and every insecurity you’ve ever had in the past hour alone.

Maybe some part of your mind thinks it’ll convince you to not go through with this if you feel badly enough. Too bad you don’t really have the option of chickening out.

You sigh and finally look away from the mirror, instead reaching for your bottle of perfume and spraying yourself lightly with the lovely scent.

You smile a bit as you set the bottle back down in its spot.

You remember the first time you wore it. It was the day after your birthday - you had gotten it for yourself as a gift. You went over to Bucky's for your weekly movie watch and when you walked by him as he held his front door open for you, he seemed immediately taken. He was all over you as he followed you in close behind. 

You had jerked away when he leaned in to smell you, giving him a look of incredulity.

“Creep,” you groused.

“Sorry,” he laughed, “but you smell incredible,” he complimented, leaning into you again. “Is that new?”

“It is, yeah. Smells good, right?” you smiled, loving your choice even more.

“Like heaven,” he simpered.

You knew he loved this perfume, but that is not why you are wearing it tonight, you tell yourself. That is simply a coincidence. It may be his favorite, but it was your favorite first. 

You double check your phone, despite it having not gone off at all in the past two hours, just to ensure you weren’t missing any messages…particularly one that would read something along the lines of “Sorry to cancel so last minute but…”.

Of course, you find nothing.

Checking the time, you have fifteen minutes til seven. 

Fifteen was plenty of time to get yourself to finally calm the hell down a bit.

You can do this.

It’ll be…what it is.

And no matter what it is, it’ll be.

You breathe a deep breath.

…Maybe you still have time to cancel…

A knock on your front door startles you and you leave your room to stand in your hallway, eyeing the door as if you’re expecting it to burst open despite the gentleness of the sound.

Nothing.

Then another knock.

You brace yourself, swallowing thickly as you approach the door.

Of course you know who it is.

Impending doom.

No! Stop with the negativity, you chastise yourself.

Of course he’d be early. If you weren’t so caught up in your head, you’d roll your eyes at his punctuality. You shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Early is on time, on time is late.” You can hear him saying it now.

You get to the door and unlock the bolts one at a time, as slowly as you can, trying to drag out the inevitable as you focus on your breathing. 

You grab hold of the knob, and once again remind yourself to get your shit together. The door slowly creaks open as you pull on it heavily and when you finally chance at glance at the man at your door, you find Bucky’s eyes on you. His lips part ever so slightly as he takes you in before his gaze comes back up to meet yours. 

He titters, the corner of his lips coming up in a half smirk as he breathes a sigh of relief. 

“You answered,” he says.

“Yeah,” you blink dumbly at his words, “why wouldn’t I have?”

“I don’t know, you’ve been avoiding me all week,” he accuses. “I was honestly a little worried you were gonna cancel on me.”

You look down, a little embarrassed at being called out. But he was right, you had been avoiding him. 

Well not him. It wasn’t him. It was just the nerves. You weren’t sure you’d be able to talk to him, let alone look at him without somehow screwing everything up all too quickly. 

Anytime you caught even just a glimpse of him in the hallway or heard what could have been him coming or going as you were, you would make yourself scarce as soon as possible. Even when you clearly saw one another, eye contact established and everything, you’d be gone before he could get a word out in your direction. The last time you spoke with him face to face was New Year’s Eve. 

The breathy “yes,” that left your lips still shocked you when you thought back on it. Which you had often this past week. Replaying the way Bucky’s face lit up at your answer, how happy he looked… before you quickly turned tail and rushed your “good night”; hurrying back to your apartment and leaving Bucky standing there in a bit of a stupor, huffing a laugh out his nose as he watched you flee, but his half smile never breaking as he called a good night after you.

Bucky has tried to talk to you since then, of course, but you just kept evading him. If he really wanted or needed to get to you, truthfully, he could have - but he didn’t want to overwhelm you. And a part of him was worried about the two very same things you were, just from his side.

Part of you was afraid you’d just flounder and end up outright canceling and the other part was scared you’d lose all self control and end up kissing him again. Not that that sounded like the worst thing in the world…But still, you kept your distance while you could.

“These are for you, gorgeous,” he continues before you can say anything in response. You only then notice the bouquet of flowers he holds in his hand. 

They’re gorgeous. Nicer than the ones he had on Valentine’s day, and even nicer than the bouquet you had been gifted from your coworker that day, too. 

“Wow,” is all you can utter as you take them from him. “Thank you,” your voice is quiet as your surprise at the gesture overwhelms you.

You’ve never been given flowers this nice before. And you definitely weren’t expecting it.

“They’re so pretty,” you say, eyes flitting up to see his enamored gaze on you before you look back down to the flowers.

“Just like you,” he says, stepping closer to you in the doorway. “You look stunning.”

You smile, albeit a bit stiffly, at the compliment, offering another ‘thank you’.

Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire at his words and you bite your lip as you turn from him to head to the kitchen.

A second passes and you turn back to see him still standing in the doorway, not following you.

You raise a brow, “What are you a vampire?” you ask sarcastically. “Come in,” you instruct with a laugh.

“Didn’t want to be presumptuous,” he says, finally coming inside, closing the door gently behind him.

“Yeah? Since when?”

He smirks again then, following you to the kitchen as you search out your vase. 

“I’m being a gentleman,” he states.

You eye him, scoffing before turning back to readying the bouquet for the water. 

 “What’s funny?” he questions, faux offense in his voice.

“You,” you shake your head, fighting your smile. “...You look nice, by the way,” you compliment after a second of fighting your nerves.

“Thanks, doll.”

You jump as his voice comes from right beside you, his stealth surprising you. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he laughs, admiring your handiwork as you arrange the flowers just right. 

You turn into him, taking a breath as you really look at him again. The blue of his eyes stand out even more with the depth of his black sweater under his dark wool overcoat. The outfit fits him well, you absentmindedly admire. He really does look nice. 

God, he always does. 

You breathe in his dark, woody cologne in your proximity and your knees threaten to go wobbly as you do. 

Is this really real?

“You ready?” he asks. You flit the thoughts away and meet his eye, nodding in response before you look at his arm as he offers it to you. 

You meet his eye once more before taking it and he leads you to the front door, but not before you grab a coat of your own. 

Breathe, you remind yourself.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Easy.

—

Walking up to the doors of the restaurant side by side with Bucky, you feel that contentment you only ever feel when he’s around. 

The cab ride was nice, the sound of the rain falling outside lulling you unthinkingly into Bucky’s side as you looked out the window, street lights and headlights flashing by - people with umbrellas still walking along the city streets. 

You smiled as you felt Bucky’s warmth radiating from him, the slow alternative music flowing through the speakers making everything feel that much more intimate. You’ve spent plenty of time with Bucky, you’ve sat this close to him before, but this still felt different. The date hadn’t even really begun and you could end the night right here and now and still be happy.

Man, was that pathetic?

You started to feel the worry building up inside you again, but then you felt Bucky’s arm come around your shoulders, holding you to him. You instantly relaxed into him, but didn’t turn your head to meet his gaze. 

What had you been so concerned about to begin with? It’s not like you were or ever had been forcing yourself or your presence on the man. Bucky asked you on this date. He kissed you first. And even before the party, he always invited you over to his place, and would somehow always manage to convince you to stay just a little bit longer - no matter how long you’d been there. It was clear he liked being around you. All the signs of reciprocated feelings were there. And yet for some reason, you still found it hard to believe.

You felt like you were in a dream.

Bucky guides you up the short steps leading up to the entrance of the establishment, his hand on your back as you take careful steps in your heeled boots on the slippery steps as the rain continues beating down on and all around you. Your left hand is in his metal one as you hold onto it for balance.

Ever the gentleman, he opens the door for you to enter before he gives his name to the host at the front of the restaurant. 

“Sergeant Barnes, it’s an honor. Please, follow me this way, your table is all ready,” the young man smiles before he walks you and Bucky to the back, to a closed off area of the restaurant. You look around, a bit confused, but not at all upset at the privacy.

There is a table set for two in the dimmed dining area, a small lit candle on the table along with more flowers. Your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest as you take it all in.

Your seat is pulled out for you by Bucky before he helps you out of your coat, and once you’re sat, he effortlessly pushes your seat back closer to the table before he removes his own coat and takes his seat across from you.

Your host shows you the menus briefly and takes your drink orders before he takes his leave, letting you know your waiter will be by soon to get drinks started.

It’s not a five star restaurant, more like a quaint, family owned eatery, but it feels even more intimate here. And with only you and Bucky back here, you really feel like you’re in your own little world. It’s nice.

It’s more than nice, actually.

It’s damn near perfect.

Bucky smiles at you as he notices you looking at him.

You hadn’t even realized you were, but you don’t look away despite being caught.

“I’m impressed, Barnes,” you offer with a small smile. “I was expecting…well,” you huff a laugh, “I don’t know what I was expecting, but this is still somehow exceeding all expectations.”

“Good,” he smiles. “I know you hate fancy food so I thought this place would be perfect. Mom and Pop’s kinda dinner.” His voice doesn’t sound it, but from the way he breaks eye contact as he over explains himself, you know he wasn’t entirely sure about his decision to come here over somewhere else.

“I do hate fancy food,” you nod. “This was a good choice.” You pick up your menu and look it over, giving some thought to what sounds appetizing. “What are you getting?” you ask without looking up. You know Bucky isn’t looking at the menu because you can feel his stare on you. 

“Sirloin,” he says without hesitation, “and you?”

“Mmm. I’m thinking burger.”

“Classic,” he supports.

You titter, setting the menu down after deciding on what you’d be ordering.

Your eyes meet Bucky’s and after a second you give him a nervous smile.

“So…” you begin.

“So,” he echos.

Before you can start to speak again, you see your waiter coming into the private area, walking toward the table, a tray in hand.

You thank him as he sets down the glasses and a basket of warm bread on your table before Bucky gives him your orders.

When you’re all alone again, you copy Bucky as he takes and butters a roll, using the other half of his butter packet so you don’t have to open another one. You tear your roll apart, eating it in pieces as opposed to Bucky who squishes it down and bites into it like it’s a biscuit, amusing you. It’s fresh, so warm, and so fluffy. 

“This is so good,” you rave.

“It’s bread and butter, it’s impossible for it not to be,” he smiles.

You point a manicured finger at him as you chew on your next piece, “You got me there.”

He sets his roll down on the plate as he licks his teeth, eyes trained on you as he does. You try to ignore it as he tilts his head while staring at you. It feels like he’s trying to read your mind.

“So…” he repeats your earlier sentiment, “were you going somewhere with that before?”

You kiss your lips, your eyes flicking up to his. You take a breath, measuring your words.

“Yeah. Uhm,” you think a moment longer. “I’ve just been wondering, how long?”

His brows furrow in an unspoken question but he doesn’t get the chance to ask before you elaborate. 

“You said you’ve been wanting to do this for months, I just - I’m curious how long exactly you’ve been waiting.”

He knows his answer, but he also knows you won’t believe him if he tells you. Since the very first month you met, he’s been wanting to do this. But he won’t say that. Not right now, anyway.

“A while,” he settles on. “A very long while.” 

He holds your eye as he answers you and you know he means it. 

You nod, pursing your lips to keep your smile from completely breaking across your face. “A while…” you muse. “What took you so long?”

“I didn’t wanna scare you away,” he says truthfully.

The look in his eye is so intense and earnest, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“...You wouldn’t have,” you tell him, your voice quiet, not far off from a whisper.

He can’t help his smirk, “I don’t think that’s true,” he scrutinizes you.

You make a face, a cross between a scowl and fighting a pout. But you know he’s right. God, he has a habit of calling you out every time you need to be. 

“Yeah, okay,” you begrudgingly agree while he relishes in your pouty acceptance.

It took all of your heart’s strength to agree to a date tonight, even after all the time you’ve spent with him, how real you know your feelings to be - whether or not you wanted to play them off as silly daydreams or not - all of this and you really almost did run away scared without giving him an answer that night. You know you would’ve said no in a heartbeat had it been when you first started getting to know one another. You’ve never been one to risk it, you wouldn’t have then, either. 

But sitting across from Bucky here and now, you’re glad you took the chance.

“I guess it’s true what they say…Timing is everything.”

He nods, “And lucky for us, I’m a very patient man.”

You smile, with a quirked brow, “Lucky indeed.” He laughs, his grin full of nothing but admiration and contentment as he leans closer to you across the table. You hadn’t even realized you’d been doing the same, your elbows on the table as you unconsciously wanted to get closer than you already were. Your knees brush, but neither of you move away. In fact, Bucky scoots his chair in closer. Your tongue slips past your lips so quickly you don’t even register it as you wet your lips. You grab your glass, raising it before you and he does the same with his own. 

“To my luck?” he asks, lips still curved in his perfect smile.

“And to your patience,” you add, your own soft smile gracing your face as you look into his brilliant blue gaze, hoping he can see the thankfulness you feel for him there. 

“To your yes.” 

“To the first first date ever that I haven’t wanted to run out on,” you joke.

You lightly clink your glasses, both of you sipping from your drink.

He shrugs as you take another drink from your glass, “Though, the night is young,” he muses.

You sputter on the liquid as you laugh into your glass, earning a similar laugh from Bucky.

You smile through your cough as you look at him again, wiping at the liquid on your chin. His gaze as warm and mirthful as ever.

Yeah, you think. He’s worth the risk.

[goodeapple]

☾ a shadow is cast wherever they stand

pairing ... chad x tara x ethan

warnings ... smuttt, mommy/daddy kink (but just a tad), sub!ethan for sure, no spoilers just fun :)

“No no no no. I told you once already Eth, keep them open or I stop.” 

Tara whimpers at Chad’s pause, arching back into his daunting form, her fists wringing wrinkles in the off-white sheets of his bed to keep herself in place. The violent hum of the AC unit balanced delicately in the window fills the air, Starboy on 3 volume crooning from the beat-up JBL speaker on Chad’s dresser. 

The slick purr of Ethan fisting his cock with enough lube to have it puddle on his lower stomach stalls, Abel’s lyrics of lost love and missed connections the only sound besides the trio’s heavy breaths. 

Tara sighs, sweet and soft, as those pretty eyes of his spring back open, pupils olive-sized and blotting out the dark coffee of his irises. 

Tara reaches behind her, gaze unwilling to break from the curly haired boy’s, wiggling her fingers in an invitation until a mammoth hand dwarfs her own. Chad squeezes her delicately, like a flower he’s afraid he might crush, his thumb rubbing over her quivering knuckles. He starts thrusting again- thank God- lacing their fingers together, brushing a kiss over the freckles on her left shoulder. 

Ethan fucks his hips up into his fist, stare wide and watching, his opposite hand rucking up his shirt, letting his blunt nails scratch over the pale skin of his lower belly. He’s sprawled out, knees spread apart whorishly, gifting himself open to the devious couple who plan to absolutely destroy him. He’s a vision that is too stunning to not reward. 

Tara lifts up onto her palms, warming as Ethan’s famished gaze drinks in her naked chest. Her nipples pebble at the attention. Ethan licks his lips. 

“I wonder who he wants to be more right now, you or me?” Tara whispers into her boyfriend’s ear, jaw going slack as Chad picks up his pace at her question, his thick dick pummeling her spread pussy. He’s whimpering, gasping, moaning suddenly, grip finding her waist, clenching her tight as he drops his head to the nape of her neck. 

“Ethannnn,” Chad’s voice is wrecked, a mess of whiny syllables that swirls liquid lust in Tara’s tummy. She bites savagely at her tongue, anchoring herself with the familiar tang of copper as her cunt pulses around Chad. 

Ethan’s eyes go wide, mouth dropping down so far that Tara wishes she could make a joke or something about catching flies but she can’t catch her breath as a thin dribble of drool trails off of his swollen bottom lip and coats the weeping purple tip of his cock. 

Tara wants to ride his fucking tongue until she gushes so much that it’ll drip off his chin and down his chest. 

“Ethan.” And Tara’s voice isn’t a whine but a warning and Ethan- sweet boy he is, so good for Tara and Chad both- sobs wetly, bottom lashes clumped with emotion, squeezes the base of his cock, other hand flying to cup his balls, hips straining fruitlessly to chase the burning ache Tara knows is casting him aflame. He waits and Tara isn’t sure if she likes the dark thrill of having these two delicious men at her beck and call, willing to do anything to make her feel good. Doesn’t know if it’s their pleasure or pain that makes her belly twist just right. But right now, stuffed full and so close to the edge that she feels herself about to careen over it, she settles it as a discussion for another night. 

“Cum for us, baby boy. You’ve been so good for mommy and daddy.” 

Thick white ropes of cum accessorize Ethan’s blue polo, his ass lifting off the chair as he strains down against his planted feet. His face is angelic, lips a circled “O”, cheeks cherry bright and a singular droplet of sweat skiing down the slope of his profile.

Chad chokes, slamming into Tara, fingertips suddenly pinching her clit just the way she needs and she’s gone. All three of them, cumming together in their fucked form of intimacy, Tara muffling her scream with her teeth buried in her arm.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 349

Flux: Chapter Four—Village of the Angels

“Flux: Chapter Four—Village of the Angels”

Plot Description: Devon, November 1967. A little girl has gone missing, Professor Eustacius Jericho is conducting psychic experiments, and in the villages graveyard, there is one gravestone too many. Why is Medderton known as the Cursed Village?

Oh good, we’re getting back to the lady who said she’d meet 13 and Yaz in the past

Oh she’s PSYCHIC psychic

So now you can’t even DRAW an angel??

Is one of the new gravestones actually an angel just waiting?? Scratch that, is CLAIRE an angel????

Ok, there is an angel here but is Claire one too!?

It’s just one turn of bad luck after another for Dan and Yaz. Like when cartoon characters say “could be worse, could be raining” and it immediately starts raining

I really hope Bel and Vinder eventually find each other

I’m loving this guy’s outfit, flowy, good patterns, accessorized nicely

Shouldn’t the Doctor keeping her eyes on the angels keep them in place?? Also, one thing I never understood was why closing the door made them…stop? Made them just not advance? If you can’t see them, they can move. Ok now they’re moving

Ooooooo, one, everyone in this village vanished in 1901 but they’re also set to do it again tonight. Two, Claire’s for whatever happened to Amy wit the dust in her eye

$20 says Yaz and Dan are in 1901 now. What if every 66 years or so, everyone in the village disappears?

How can you say “no dinosaurs” when there are live chickens on that table, Daniel?

PEOPLE, STOP TOUCHING THE ANGELS

She has an angel LIVING IN HER BRAIN??

The Division! Again!! I need to know exactly what they do

Ah fuck. That alien who was in the temple alongside the originally introduced prisoner alien

Noooooooo!!!! Not the Passenger

I don’t blame him for not believing or wanting to go with Bel but it is heartbreaking that we know she’s right that the Passenger is a prison, not safe transport

You are looking in too many directions to be keeping your eye on the angels, Professor

Oh shit….the angel in—actually I’m not convinced the angel in Claire’s mind truly has the Doctor’s stolen memories

Ah damn, the Professor is in 1901 now, too

That’s a lot of angels…

There is entirely too much happening. Why is the Doctor an angel now??

This better—oh thank god this wasn’t a trap for Vinder. I truly believe he and Bel will be reunited

[plainlo-inthemorning]

The Night Father Paul Went Shopping for Slim Fit Jeans

Warning: PRIEST SMUT. No minors, please.

Always remember protection irl when not having spontaneous sex with vampiric beings. But also then.

Brief: The previously untold story of how Father Paul Hill acquired a wardrobe stuffed with slim-fit jeans and snug boyfriend cardies before returning to Crockett Island.

His large, warm hand covers your lips. In between moans you lick at his fingers, until he slips one of them into your mouth. You bite down softly, letting your tongue swirl around the digit.

When he looks up from what he’s doing further down your body, his eyes have turned black.

Earlier that same day.

“Hey, y/n, a hot priest just walked through the door”.

Your colleague Rachel pops her head into the back office and winks at you. You barely look up from your magazine.

“Mmkay”.

The clock on the wall above the manager’s desk showed twenty-five minutes to closing time a while ago, but the day has been so slow on customer traffic and thus so mind-numbingly boring, that you’re afraid if you look directly at the clock to check if you can finally escape, the hands will slow to a full stop, and you’ll be forever trapped in this too-stuffy purgatory of a hip menswear store in a part of town where only men with bad hips ever pass by on their way to the holy sites.

What was the owner thinking when he rented the space? That he could tempt a couple of Fathers on vacation to consider accessorizing their robes with figure-hugging t-shirts adorned with Ramones logos?

You have no idea; you’ve never met the owner in person.

You’re only in the country for a few months on a work visa, and before you ended up in the store, you had a few very enjoyable, raucous weeks serving cocktails in an altogether differently bustling, young neighborhood. You had wanted to spend the remaining weeks exploring the rural areas and perhaps have someone else serve you a few cocktails for a change, but somehow (well…) your money had gone too quickly. And then a girl at the hostel you’d been staying at had pointed you to the store where they needed shopgirl for two weeks during the owner’s holiday (my holiday too, you think, bitterly).

Rachel, your one and only co-worker who has two young children and an ice-hockey obsessed spouse she complains about non-stop, is still standing in the doorway to the office, waiting. Really, is she expecting you to deal with a customer at five or so minutes to freedom?

If there even is a customer out there.

A hot priest.

In Rachel speak, this most likely translates to an old, excessively sweaty priest of which there are many on these streets. But a hot one? This is your life, not Fleabag’s.

Still, Rachel seems determined on making you do…something.

You look up, annoyed. “What? If there’s an actual live customer in the building, why can’t you just help him? I’m almost off anyway”.

“Oh, there’s someone here alright”. Rachel’s voice is a high whisper with notes of daytime soap suspense. Dear God, you’re both so bored.

“But the thing is, y/n, I have to go pick up one of the boys from swim lessons. Now. Apparently, someone accidentally showed one of the girls his…well, it doesn’t matter, point is, I must go. So sorry. You’ll have to lock up tonight, okay?”

You level her a death stare. “Are you kidding me, Rachel?”

“I’m sorry, y/n”, she hisses (why is she still whispering?), but she looks anything but. In fact, she looks oddly excited. “Let’s just say I’m leaving you with a little something that might make up for the extra time you have to put in”.

Fine, consider your curiosity vaguely piqued.

“I’ll tell him you’ll be right out, okay? And…” Rachel looks you over, “maybe just run your fingers through your hair?”

Say what?

Before you can respond, Rachel has disappeared. You hear her say something to the customer, and then it’s all quiet. She must have left. You sigh and close the magazine.

Okay, so-called hot priest, here we go.

When you stand up, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror next to the door. Yes, you look a bit tired (no wonder), but your long, shiny hair falls prettily around your shoulders, and the remains of the tan you worked up traveling around Asia in February is still making your eye color pop. Perfectly presentable.

You make your way to the front of the store, smoothing down your bright red t-shirt as you go.

“Hello, sir, what can I…”

You look around.

And gasp.

Perhaps it’s because you were fully expecting Rachel to be kidding.

Perhaps your guard is just a little down after the long day.

Or perhaps the man in front of you is simply downright hot.

And a priest.

Holy shit, they do exist.

His raven locks are 1960s movie star wavy, and his brown eyes at once adorably doe-like and mysteriously cautious. A man with a secret or two.

“Hello … ?” He smiles, more sheepishly than you’d expect from a man this handsome, and you realize that you’ve been staring at him with your mouth agape. Excellent customer service approach.

The timbre of his voice at that one word alone sends a shiver down your spine (an American. You won’t hold it against him. After all, you’re headed back to Boston yourself after the holiday).

You offer the stranger your most professional smile and an apologetic hand gesture. “Sorry, I think I lost my train of thought for a second. Long day, you know”. Hopefully he didn’t clock your less than saintly appreciation of his obvious good looks. An image of a rapt church audience hanging on his every word flashes through your mind.

He eyes you quizzically, but the corner of his mouth twitches a little.

“What can I do for you?”, you ask, clasping your hands together in front of you, firm that his handsomeness will not compromise your skills as a salesperson.

“Well…”. He looks around as if he’s not sure. You’ve dealt with clueless male shoppers before, so this is nothing out of the ordinary. Usually, they just need a few nudges to get the ball rolling. Which is why the owner prefers to have younger, female employees work the front room (incredibly sexist, really, but hey, you’re only here for two weeks).

“I’ll be honest with you, I’m not quite sure…”, he says (yup, here we go). “It’s been a very long time since I went shopping for clothes. A very long time”. He chuckles at the last part, mostly to himself it seems, and you secretly thrill at how melodic his voice is, the way it rises and falls on the words with a strangely unpredictable rhythm.

While his eyes wander over the displays, you take in the outfit he’s currently wearing. The white collar was the first thing you spotted, naturally, but now the rest of the attire strikes you as positively bizarre. Even for a priest. It’s a traditional long black robe, but it seems to be at least a couple of sizes too short, and the same goes for the black pants he’s wearing underneath. Also, you think you see the faint outline of a large stain on the front of his robe-shirt-thing (you’ve never bothered to learn the proper terms).

You quickly look away before he catches you gawking at him again. “Are you thinking shirts, jeans…? We got some really cool sweaters in last week, but they may be a bit too hot for this weather we’re having…”

“I’m leaving to go home soon. To Maine. So, sweaters are not a bad idea”. He smiles at you and warmth spreads through your veins in a way not usually associated with Tuesday afternoons in an airless clothing store. The man’s got charisma in spades.

“Okay, well, then let me pull a few things out for you. What’s your usual size?”

Normally, you’d be able to tell, but the priest get-up is throwing you a bit. And that stain…it looks like he has tried to wash it off, but most likely just in the sink or it wouldn’t still be noticeable on the black fabric. A classic pasta sauce incident, maybe? Or a sticky cocktail? You can’t imagine the latter, although just thinking about it makes you grin before you can catch yourself.

“Miss…?”

The stranger is smiling politely at you, if a little tentative. Did it look like you were amused at his expense? Then again, he knows what he’s wearing, surely? With the size of the shirt so off on his tall, lean frame it reminds you of a Halloween costume.

Deciding that a man of the cloth probably welcomes honesty, you exhale and give it to him. Kind of.

“Again, sorry. I’m a little distracted. It’s just, and please don’t take this the wrong way, we don’t get a lot of priests coming in here. Or, none. I think the only priest I’ve assisted was a guy asking for directions to the coach stop. And he was definitely not as…” You search for the word, careful not to throw a Freudian slip at the poor man, “…young as you. I haven’t met a lot of…young priests”. God, you sound like an imbecile. “But I’m here to help! Whatever you need”.

He doesn’t look well at ease and for a second you think he’s going to make his excuses and walk out. But then, thank heavens, he sighs and shrugs. “I get it, don’t worry. There’s a mirror in my room. Thing is my luggage was stolen so I’ve had to borrow something of one of the other…guests at the place I’m staying at. As you can imagine, I’d rather like to get out of it again”. He gives you a grin that’s surprisingly close to being cheeky, and you can feel yourself blush – a detail he clearly notices as his smile grows. At the same time, though, he appears somewhat befuddled.

Fine, he’s a priest and embracing superficial beauty is for the weak of spirit or whatnot (you’re guessing), but he must be at least a tiny bit aware of how attractive he is?

Apparently not. Of course, that only makes him more attractive. If he were to pull out a pair of Clark Kent glasses, you’d melt into the floor.

“Although…” He suddenly seems to remember something and looks around the empty store. “Wait, did I walk in just as you were about to close? So sorry, I can come back tomorrow…”. He makes to leave, and you manage to startle the both of you as you immediately step in front him, practically blocking his way. “No! I mean, please stay. It’s been so quiet today I’d really like to help you pick out some stuff. Honestly”.

You smile sweetly up at him. He looks more befuddled than ever, but also...intrigued. Or maybe you’re reading him wrong.

He clears his throat. “Well, thank you so much. I’ll be quick”. He maintains eye contact with you, and the moment drags out just a beat longer than you expect is the social norm for devout professionals.

It’s not just you then. Interesting.

You can feel his gaze following you as you walk from shelf to shelf, picking out items. It makes you straighten your back and sway your hips a bit more than usual. You’re wearing low-cut jeans and trainers in ridiculously stark sartorial contrast to his gothic ensemble, and something about that is a major turn on.

You wonder how long he’s been a priest. If he’s ever actually touched anyone in that way before strapping on the collar. Maybe it gives him electric shocks if he has impure thoughts, like one of those dog collars.

He still hasn’t told you his size, so now you’re going by eye measurements after all, pulling out a couple of grey and white t-shirts in baby soft cotton (no band logos for this one you reckon), and casual but slim-fitting sweaters and cardigans in dark blue and charcoal. You pause in front of the jeans. He’s young and fit enough for slim jeans, and you bet they would look great on him. Sexy.

But perhaps that’s taking it a step too far, even for a 21st Century priest?

What the heck, he can try them on and just say no if he doesn’t like them. Making fashion choices for him gives you a sense of sexual power. You’ve assisted other men his age select jeans, good looking guys among them, but putting a hot priest in skinny jeans while all alone with him in the store is up there with the most stirring non-sex acts you’ve participated in lately.

“My name is Paul, by the way. What’s yours?”

You nearly jump as his soft voice sounds right behind you while you’re standing on tiptoes trying to reach the shelf with the jeans you want to show him. You turn around and come directly face to face with him. Or face to chest.

“Um, it’s y/n”. He smells faintly of pines and musk. It’s a little dizzying, frankly, and you dare not think about what you smell like yourself after stewing away indoors all day.

“Nice to meet you, y/n”. His eyes drink you up in a way that suddenly feels quite intimate. You swallow and try not to focus on how he subtly wets his bottom lip. “Do you need help reaching those up there?” Without taking his eyes off you, he nods towards the jeans. “Uh, yes. The grey ones on top. Thank you…Paul”. You taste his name and for some reason it makes him smile mischievously. He reaches over your head to grab the jeans, effectively trapping you between him and the wall of shelves.

He’s so close you can feel his body heat, and your breathing is fast becoming unsteady. The way he’s positioned, he has an excellent view down your v-neck, should he care to look. You feel a rush of adrenaline when his eyes briefly do.

If he wasn’t a man of the cloth, you’d think he seemed...hungry.

You lead him to the changing rooms, and he dutifully follows closely behind you. He’s so tall his head and the top of his chest are visible above the curtain, so you turn your back on him to give him some privacy while he changes.

There’s ruffling of fabric, and then he steps out again - a completely different man. You audibly inhale, you can’t help it. He’s wearing the slim, grey jeans that fit him perfectly, a white t-shirt and the charcoal cardigan in ribbed knit. His feet are now bare, which gives the outfit an effortless air of a man who once played in an indie band in the noughties. The collar he's left in the changing room.

Lord, he has Dream Boyfriend written all over him. You literally see yourself wearing that cardigan over nothing while padding around his kitchen the morning after.

If he even has a kitchen in his priest home (house? Priest lodgings?).

“You look great. Those jeans suit you very well”. You eye him up and down, appraisingly, while he inspects himself in the full-length mirrors on the wall next to the changing rooms. There’s that tiny smirk again, mixed with something akin to surprise.

“It’s definitely…different compared to what I have hanging in my closet back home”, he says, turning from side to side and fiddling with the buttons on the cardigan.

“And…?” you ask with an expectant smile.

“I like it”, he concedes and smiles back at you. “It feels rather rejuvenating”.

“Ah, famous last words of the shopaholic”. You wink at him and earn a laugh. It’s a glorious, warm sound.

When he continues to struggle with the buttons (it’s almost as if he’s not quite used to the size and movements of his own hands), you gingerly step forward to help him, and he lets you, arms falling to his side. You slowly button up the cardigan without looking into his face, but you’re acutely aware of his breath tickling your eyelashes. Who knew putting clothes on someone could be this tantalizing? Your lower arm grazes his abdomen, and there’s a definite change in the rise and fall of his chest that assures you that whatever this little semi-flirty scenario is, he’s into it as well.

Still, best not to tempt faith and earn a bad review for being a thirsty shopgirl.

Mentally forcing yourself to Stop. Touching. The. Man, you instead go to grab a black leather belt from a basket near the counter that would go well with the jeans. “Try this” You hand the belt over the curtain to the changing room, where Paul’s now pulling one of the other t-shirts over his head, and for the next half hour or so, the two of you chat easily as he tries on more jeans (the slim fit works best, you promise him, perhaps a little too heartedly), and you keep throwing new items of clothing at him. Closing time has come and gone, but you couldn’t care less. You want to drag out this weird encounter for as long as you can.

Every time you make him laugh you feel like you’ve won a prize. And he appears to be enjoying your company too, indulging your every stylist impulse and asking questions about where you’re from, your work (freelance writer) and your travels.

And he genuinely listens. Part of the job, you think to yourself, taking confessions and acting like the town’s charity psychologist (okay, maybe a bit harsh). But still, the way he looks at you makes you feel like you’re special. Like he’s seeing something in you he can’t quite pinpoint himself.

You try to ask about his life as well, but other than telling you that he’s the priest of a very small island and what the community is like in general terms (hardworking fishermen struggling to preserve their livelihood, a place where no one locks their doors), you get a feeling that he’s delicately evading your questions, turning the conversation back to you at every opportunity.

Maybe priests are just not used to talking about themselves? Or it’s perceived as arrogance. Either way, the layer of mystery is not exactly making him any less interesting, if that’s what he’s going for. Men underestimating the power of female intuition is a tale as old as time.

“So, is there a lucky someone waiting for you when you get back?”, he asks at one point coming out from the changing room. His hair has become ruffled in a very endearing way, and he’s definitely giving the lining of the new sweater he’s wearing a little more attention than seem warranted. You make an effort not to smirk.

My, my, Father. Not so sly after all.

“No”, you reply, and when he looks up, you’d swear he just stifled a smirk himself. “I’m free as a bird”.

“A little swallow”, he says. “Coming home for spring”. Had any other strange man called you ‘little”, you would have found it condescending, but dammit if you’re not blushing again. Somehow it doesn’t feel like there’s a patronizing bone in his body. He’s just truly sweet and if this had been a date, you would be mentally preparing his breakfast by now. You can’t remember the last time you sparked with a guy in this way.

Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think, a little too ironic…?

Finally, he’s left with three pairs of jeans, a belt, a couple of t-shirts and three sweater cardigans, and your heart sinks as your time with him is running out. He keeps the grey jeans and a long-sleeved, dusty blue t-shirt on (he’s not put the collar back on, you notice with a last tinge of intrigue), and you give him a separate bag for the Halloween costume, secretly hoping he’ll just throw it away.

He pays for the items in cash, not seeming to worry about or even notice the amount. Being a countryside priest obviously pays better than you would have thought.

“Thank you so much for your help. I feel bad for having made you keep the place open for me, and-”

“Really, it was no trouble. I enjoyed it”, you interrupt him.

You smile at each other as he lingers by the counter, folding the receipt once, twice between his fingers before shoving it in his pocket. Outside it’s gone dark, but you’re not even thinking about the walk back to the hostel. The universe has shrunk to just the two of you and a very loaded silence.

“I’ll … walk you out”, you say, not at all wanting to but not knowing what else to do either. Although there are only a few paces to the door so really, it’s totally silly. He nods, those brown eyes studying your face with a touch of melancholia. He collects himself. “Okay, yes, I should be headed back too…”

You step around the counter, coming to stand in front of him; you have to push past him to get to the entrance of the store, but now you can’t get yourself to move an inch. Neither can you make yourself meet his eyes seeing as you might throw your arms around his neck and bury your fingers in his curls if he smiles at you just one more time.

The mental image fills your brain when he slowly puts down both bags and reaches for you. An involuntary shiver runs through you, and he pulls his hand back from your arm as if you’d slapped him. “Sorry! I’m so sorry”, he begins but you don’t let him finish the sentences, stepping into his arms and putting a finger to his lips. “Shh, don’t. It’s okay”, you hush him and his hands find your waist, pulling you to him. His eyes drop to your lips. “We shouldn’t…I want to, I do, but it shouldn’t happen…it’s too risky”, he mumbles.

Absurdly, it feels like the sexiest thing you’ve ever had a man say to you. There’s a new hoarseness to his voice and he’s flexing his jaw. He’s clearly trying to exercise restraint, but at the same time his thumbs brush against the soft, exposed skin between your t-shirt and jeans. “Because of the collar, I know”, you offer softly, licking at the forbidden fruit. He looks back to your eyes like you pulled him out of a daydream. “Uh, yes, also that…”.

Also? What is he-

His hands grip your waist tighter, but instead of waiting to find out if it’s meant as a last squeeze before letting you go, or if he’s decided to throw caution to the wind, you crane your neck up and kiss the side of his throat – mainly because you can’t reach his mouth. He inhales sharply and freezes.

But he doesn’t say no.

You breathe in the smell of his skin and feel his pulse beat fast, and while weaving your fingers into his hair you kiss him again. He doesn’t resist when you pull his face down towards you so you can kiss his jawline, his cheekbone… When your lips lightly touch the side of his mouth, he snaps back to life, taking your face in his large hands and capturing your mouth in a kiss. It’s almost chaste at first, like he’s not sure if you’ll pull away, but when you press your body against his, it quickly turns into something richer, greedier.

When you part your lips, his tongue smoothly enters your mouth, and you moan a little with surprise and lust. One hand still cupping your face, his other travels down your side, fingers tracing your curves until your scalp prickles with sensations. He doesn’t stop though, and you gasp into his mouth when his hand slides under your t-shirt and starts making it way upwards again. His touch is so feather light, it makes you throb with desire for him to just grab you and throw you up onto one of the display tables. When you tighten your grip in his hair, a chuckle rumbles through his chest.

His fingers graze the lace of your flimsy bra, and he hesitates and breaks the kiss. “Are you sure…?” His eyes are hooded. Has he done this before? “Yes”, you whisper. “Please put your hands on me … Father”. Even as you’re adding the holy title, you wonder if it’s too much, too sacrilegious, but turns out it’s the magic word. Paul growls – actually growls – and buries his face in your neck while his fingers push under the bra to explore your breast. His other hand is firmly on your lower back, keeping you in place against him, and you throw your head back when he starts drawing circles around your hardening nipple in a way that leaves little doubt that he’s had at least some prior experience with a woman’s intimate anatomy. He nibbles at your neck, and you’re sure your underwear is already soaked. But you want to do something for him before…

At first, he looks confused when you softly push him away and his hand leaves your breast, but when you smile teasingly up at him and place your palm on his chest, he obligingly takes a few steps back until he’s up against the counter. His breath hitches in his throat when you reach for the buttons of his jeans, and he grabs your wrists. “Y/n, I don’t think … ”, he stammers, but you fix him a calm, yet defiant look.

“This is happening, Paul”, you say matter of fact, hoping your boldness won’t be a turn off.

For a few seconds you look into each other’s eyes, waging a silent war of wills. And for his part, reason, perhaps. Maybe there’s an order to which things are more sinful than others with heavy petting considered a forgivable slip, whereas…

Then the crinkles around his eyes return.

“Yes ma’am”.

He lets go of your wrists and you kneel in front of him, keeping eye contact while slowly unbuttoning his jeans. You deliberately lick your lips just to watch him gasp and his eyes go black. He’s gripping the edge of the counter. You pull the jeans down and are met with his large erection, barely contained by his black boxers (seemingly new as well). When you lick the stretched fabric, he hisses between his teeth in a way that makes the heat pool between your own legs. Deciding for both your sakes not to tease him unnecessarily, you tug at his underwear, freeing his length. You swallow at the size of it, but you can manage. Ain’t no mountain high enough, right?

You smile devilishly up at him as you stroke him with both hands and get a kick out of his hypnotized eyes. He’s lost in your ministrations, while gripping the counter so hard his knuckles go white. When you trace the underside of his cock with your tongue, he growls loudly and closes his eyes briefly, and you feel almost certain that while he may have been with a woman before, this is his first blowjob. You let your tongue swirl around the head of his cock, and he positively mewls, making you smile around him.

When you finally take him into your mouth as far as you can, he yelps and grabs your hair, and you start moving slowly, still caressing him with your tongue and sucking lightly. Though he keeps hold of a fistful of your hair, he doesn’t try to steer your movements, as some guys have a nasty habit of doing, or push himself deeper, but stays as still as he can.

You have one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, moving in sync with your mouth, and the other is grabbing his thigh. His muscles are tight under your palm, but when you suck a little harder, a spasm runs through his body, and he moans. His fingers twitch in your hair, and you can feel his cock throbbing harder. You know you have to stop soon if you want to him to last longer, and you need to feel him inside you. His breathing is fast and shallow when you remove your mouth from him, and the look on his face feral as he pulls you to your feet, lifts you up and puts you down on the counter.

“My turn”, he rasps, pulling your t-shirt over your head and making quick work of unhooking your bra. He kisses your neck, your collarbone, the curve of your breast and you arch your back into his touch. He takes your left nipple into his mouth and teases it with his tongue, before moving on to bestow the same attention to the right one while unbuttoning your jeans with one hand.

He’s radiating body heat like a furnace, and you moan in anticipation when he pulls your jeans down. You wriggle to help him tug them all the way off, and he kneels between your legs, planting soft kisses up the insides of your thighs while hooking his hands under your knees and pulling you to the edge of the counter. When he gets to your panties, his breath hot on the damp fabric, you’re the one gripping his hair tightly and feeling your legs quiver (the fact that today of all days you chose to put on your sexier, matching underwear must surely have been spurred on by a sense of divine premonition).

Only when he pulls the garment down your legs and tosses it aside do you remember that the lights in the store are still on. Anyone who were to walk by outside would be able to see you.

He doesn’t have his collar on, but still.

“Paul”, you pant before he can bury his face between your legs again. “The lights. We have to turn off the lights”. His eyes are so hazy with desire that he looks at you like you’re speaking a foreign language, but then he comes to and stands up, pulling his boxers and jeans with him. “Right”, he says, comically businesslike. “Where?” “On the wall to the left of the entrance”. You point and he quickly shuffles over and flips the switch, leaving the room in near darkness, the weak glare from the streetlamps outside turning the space into a cave of strange shadows. At least you’re not as visible as before and no way are you dragging him to the stale back office.

It’s not that dark that you can’t appreciate the look of him when he positions himself between your legs again, his hair a mess and his face flushed, and you eagerly help him pull his t-shirt over his head before he kneels once again and pushes your legs wider apart, his fingers digging into the flesh on your thighs. You shiver as your most intimate parts are exposed, but then his warm mouth is on you, and you nearly cry out when his tongue parts your slick folds, then lightly taps at your clit before engulfing it in a deep, wet kiss. You whimper, and he looks up at you with an expression so unashamedly lascivious, it seems impossible to you that this is a man whose job requires him to place little pieces of dry bread directly in the mouths of young, kneeling women and keep a straight face.

He reaches a hand up to cup your jaw, then trace your mouth, and you lick and bite at his fingers as he gets back to lapping at you. When his tongue finds your clit again and sucks, you moan loudly and lean all the way back on the counter, so dizzy from his touch the room might as well be upside down. That is nothing, however, compared to the sensation when Paul carefully inserts first one, then two fingers into your soaked core, and moves them slowly in and out, stretching you and curling the tips ever so lightly to massage that magical spot. A third finger is added. Who taught this guy?! He twirls his tongue around your clit and reduces you to a shaking mess, your orgasm building quickly.

“Paul!” you gasp, but he puts an arm across your abdomen to keep you securely in place. You so want to feel him, feel his cock inside you as well, but he shows no signs of stopping, and you’re so close you can’t muster any protests. A few more adept flicks of his tongue against your most sensitive spot combined with quicker thrusts with his fingers, and the priest makes you come harder than you ever have before. The ceiling of the store disappears in blinding white light, and you thrash on the counter as he keeps moving his fingers inside you, driving your orgasm higher still until it feels like you’re going to pass out from sensitivity.

You’re so out of it, you don’t notice him standing up before he pulls out his fingers, and you feel something else, something larger press against your entrance. You push yourself up on your elbows and try to focus on him, and he leans forward and kisses you on the mouth, his hand coming up to cradle your neck. He leans his forehead against yours. “You’ve been such a good girl, so good. But I’m afraid I’m not quite done with you yet”, he whispers huskily. “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll do most of the work, okay?”.

You can only nod, and he smiles a little triumphantly (oh, he’s pleased with himself, that’s for sure), letting you lie down on your back again before grabbing hold of your hips. You’re still in the last throes of your orgasm when he pushes into you, and your walls spasm around his length, provoking a guttural sound from deep within his chest. “You feel amazing”, he gasps in between thrusts that rapidly become deeper, harder.

Little beads of sweat glisten on his brow, and you wrap your legs around his waist, and try not to drown in pleasure – it feels like he’s intent on fucking you from one orgasm to the next with no recovery in between, and when he places a hand over your swollen clit, you cry out from oversensitivity.

It’s almost too much, but he’s not letting you go, snapping his hips against you while continuing to work you with his fingers as well. Your helpless moans make him flash you a wolfish grin, despite his obvious efforts to not lose control himself, and when you try to reach for him, to pull him down for a kiss, he removes his hand from your hip and instead seizes hold of your wrists to pin them both over your head. He doesn’t slow his thrusts, nor does his fingers (his incredible fingers!) stop massaging your clit when he leans over you. “You will stay there and come for me again”, he drawls. “I’m breaking my sacred vows for your pleasure, so you better believe I’m going to make you scream for me. Over and over”.

Oh god, is he gearing up for a marathon? That’s what you get for seducing a priest with decades worth of repressed sexual urges. If he wasn’t so fantastically good at what he was doing to you, you might have been slightly worried. As it is, you have no braincells left to worry about anything but whether or not it will be embarrassing if you faint from orgasming next. Then he increases the pressure against your little nub and you think you may not have a choice in the matter.

Paul’s eyes stay locked on your face as he fucks you, and when he licks his teeth, you have a crazy thought that he’s actually going to sink them into you. He doesn’t. Instead, he lowers his head to whisper into your ear: “You’re mine tonight, as I’m yours”. “Yes … Father”, you manage between gasps, and immediately feel him tense up. His thrusts become more erratic. “Say that again”, he growls. “Yes, Father”, you oblige, breathlessly. “Please punish me for tempting you”.

Paul lets go of your wrists and straightens up again to grip your hip, slamming into you so hard, you can’t say anything else. That is until he changes his angle just so, pressing down on your sex, and you come undone with a scream, sending papers, pens and an unopened box of ties flying down from the counter (thankfully, there are only empty offices above the store). Paul follows you immediately after and groans as he spills himself inside you.

He lets go of your hips and instead supports himself on the counter, and for a long while the only sounds in the store are those of your collective hard breathing.

Splayed out in front of him, skin flushed and glistening with sweat, you’re not sure you remember how to use any of your limbs, but when Paul pulls up his pants and then scoops you up in his arms, you slowly come alive. Lifting you like you weigh nothing, the priest carries you to one of the larger display tables covered with sweaters where, freeing one hand while still holding you with the other, he pushes a stack of the soft garments onto the carpet. “Don’t worry, I’ll buy them all if we leave a stain on them”, he mumbles into your hair. Then he sets you down on your feet but keeps hold of your hand (your legs are seriously wobbly) while he arranges the sweaters as if he were laying out a picnic blanket. “Here, come relax”, he motions for you to join him on the floor, and you happily take the invitation to lie down.

You curl up on the sweaters, and Paul drapes one of them over you. “Hmm, no that won’t do”, he says, seeing how little the garment covers. “But this…” He gets up and pulls a large coat from a hanger nearby.

Lying down next to you, he pulls the coat over the both of you (well, mostly you), and you snuggle into his side, not caring that you’re both slightly sticky. Paul adjusts so he can put his arms around you, and kisses your cheek. You have lost all track of time, but it matters not. Everything about this, him, feels more real, more intimate than any one-night stands or dates you’ve been on in ages. Maybe ever.

“This was most unexpected”, Paul murmurs, and you smile against his chest. “You know, these services simply come with any purchase of more than three items”, you say. He chuckles and nips at your shoulder.

Now that you've caught your breath, your curiosity demands a couple of answers to a couple of hundred questions, but he speaks first:

“I’m not going to forget this. Or you”. His voice is so tender, it wraps itself around your heart. Suddenly it feels like a tragedy of Jack and Rose’esque proportions if he simply walks out of the store and out of your life. “When are you flying back?” you ask and don’t fail to notice how he hesitates for just a beat before answering. “In a week or so. I hope. I have some final, er, logistics to work out”.

“Logistics?”

You shouldn’t prod him, it’s none of your business. And if he wanted to see you again before leaving, he’d probably say so himself. But you can’t help it. Again, there’s a pause, and you’re becoming fairly certain that he’s either coming up with a story about why he doesn’t have time to check in with you again, have a nice life, bye, bye, or that he’s up to some kind of shady business.

What would that be, though, him being a priest and all?

“Ha!” a voice in your head scoffs.

“A priest? Devout? He just bought a bunch of clothes suited for a lead guitarist turned cool playwright without so much as looking at the prices, and then proceeded with great expertise to give you two consecutive orgasms on the counter of your place of work. You have absolutely no idea who this man is”.

“Paul”. You twist in his arms so you can look up at his face before he can say anything. Or tell you a lie. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. I’m just nosy by nature”. You smile, and he exhales a little. “But”, you continue, “give it to me straight: Are you actually a priest or did you just spin a little story to see if I had a secret fetich?”

Paul stares at you with a completely blank expression for what feels like a good long minute.

Then he bursts out laughing. Really laughing.

“Oh, y/n, no, don’t worry about that. I’m a priest alright. Even if I haven’t made for a very convincing one for the past few hours”.

He tries to put on a serious face, perhaps even reaching for a bit of remorse for good measure, but he can’t stop laughing.

He rolls onto his back. “I’m so sorry for the confusion. You have every right to be suspicious”. He shakes his head. “I don’t even know why I’m laughing! This is so inappropriate, truly, I’m so sorry. I think I just…I can’t remember when I last felt this good”. He turns his face to you, and you pop yourself up on one elbow, looking down into his eyes. They’re endlessly kind. Confused, yes. Hiding something, abso-fucking-lutely.

But above all else, kind.

He’s a man who means well. Although you’re old enough to know that that doesn’t guarantee he knows what well means.

“What made you change your mind about this, then?" You wan't to know.

Paul looks to the ceiling while seemingly mulling over his answer.

“I saw you, and I wanted you", he says simply, and you're taken aback by the raw honesty (if that's what it is).

“You mean you wanted to see if you could?"

He looks back at you, and there's a glint in his eyes telling you that he knew.

He knew he could.

Reaching up to twist a strand of your hair around his finger, he gently pulls at it so you'll lower your face to his. “I am a priest. And as such I shouldn’t have...courted temptation. To say that I haven’t been feeling like my old self lately would be an understatement, but it’s true, nevertheless. My time here in this country has opened my eyes in many ways, made me see both myself and my purpose clearer. Perhaps that’s also why this”, he lifts his chin and kisses you, “feels somehow part of the larger picture".

He's being deliberately, infuriatingly cryptic, but there’s a look of gentle wonder and boyish optimism in his brown eyes that complicates the urgent question of whether you should surrender your soul or get up, grab your panties and run away from what may be a potentially thorny midlife crisis of faith.

Buy new wardrobe, check. Fuck pretty young thing, check.

Perhaps the “logistics” he has to work out is how to get his new sports car through customs.

He lifts himself up a little to kiss the tip of your nose. Man sure knows how to play irresistibly cute, the manipulative devil in disguise he may be.

“Okay then, Father”, you sigh. “You don’t owe me the whole story. Although”, you narrow your eyes at him playfully, “I can smell it’s a juicy one”.

A very strange look passes over Paul’s face, but then he pulls you in for another kiss and you forget about it when his tongue invades your mouth. Before you know it, you’re lying on top of him, kissing him heatedly while his hands roam down your naked body. He’s still wearing the jeans, but you can feel him growing hard again. When you reach for the buttons, he flips you on your back, straddling you. “So eager”, he says, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Maybe I should restrain you, so I can better toy with you…”.

His words make you ache between your legs, as if you weren’t already wet enough from his cum. “Wait there”. Paul gets up and points his finger at you, then goes to pick up something from the floor over by the counter. When he comes back, he places one knee on either side of your body. He has a cardboard box in his hands.

The unopened box of ties.

///

When you and Paul leave the store sometime just before the night gives way to dawn, the world as you know it has stopped existing. Replaced instead with a world in which being naked with your hot priest is the be all and end all.

You don’t even know how many orgasms he gave you. Your brain is mushy from sex, your body pliable as a ragdoll. You haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday, but you don’t feel hungry. You lock the front door to the store, and the two of you walk along the empty cobblestone streets, his arm slung around you like it always belonged there, the shopping bags swinging by his other side. To outsiders, you’d look like a loved-up couple with tellingly unruly tresses and clothes slightly askew. He’s offered to walk you to your hostel, but the short way is blessedly long and winding when you stop to make out every other block. You don’t know how you’ll be able to let him go. It feels like you’re starring in a surreal, very R-rated version of one of your favorite movies, ‘Before Sunrise’.

“So, tell me, do you actually have a secret priest fetich?” Paul squeezes your shoulder as you walk past a small church. “All girls do,” you say, looking innocently up at him and loving the way he raises his eyebrows at you. “Sorry to break it to you, Father, but you can’t be all tall, dark and handsome and go around asking people to confess their dirty desires to you without earning yourself a few groupies”.

He laughs and shakes his head. “For the sake of my once revered professional credibility, which has been somewhat dented as of late, I’ll admit, I hope I can limit the number of groupies to just the one going forward”. He nuzzles your hair with his nose.

You run a finger along the waistband of his jeans. “Trust me, this slim fit is going to bring your entire island congregation to their knees”.

He almost chokes.

“Just wait and see. People will be banging at your door at all hours for private ‘advice’”. You shoot him a lecherous smile.

“I’ll…have to take my precautions, then”. If he’s trying to suppress his smirk, he’s doing a very poor job of it.

“Perhaps I should come with you. Protect you from the screaming masses, you know”. You regret the words as they leave your mouth, even if you’re half joking. Problem is, the other half is showing.

If he wants to see you, he’ll just say so.

Paul stops and puts the bags down so both his arms are free to wrap around you. You brush a lock of curly black hair out of his face. “What am I going to do with you?”, he muses quietly. He’s looking at you, but you know the conversation is between him and his conscience alone. Or something else.

You stand on tiptoes to brush your lips against his. “Hide me in your luggage and smuggle me onto the island”, you say, and nearly jump when he lets out a bark of laughter. It doesn’t sound like he’s all that amused, though. “No room, I’m afraid”. He caresses your cheek. A million different emotions seem to be swimming in his eyes, and you have no idea how to interpret any of them. You’ve only known him for a night.

“Oh well”, you say casually, shrugging your shoulders and trying not to even think of crying. “It’s probably for the best. If you kept me around, you’d end up telling me all your little secrets eventually. And then I guess you’d have to kill me”.

You swat a hand at his chest. He doesn’t move. Or blink.

“Yes”, he says, looking down at you with weird resolve. “I think I’ll have to”.

“What?” You laugh a little nervously, but then Paul’s face breaks into a dazzling smile, and all the shadows disappear. He hugs you tighter, and proceeds to kiss you so thoroughly, one large hand coming up to cup your chin, that you have to cling to his shirt not to lose your balance.

When he releases you, he presses his forehead to yours. “You are my little secret”, he whispers. You grab his hand. “Okay, Father. Let’s go then”.

You’re so high on endorphins that you don’t even notice when he leads you in the wrong direction down a dark alleyway.

Two months later.

You’re awoken by the shrill sound of your phone ringing next to your pillow. No; under your pillow. You’ve fallen asleep with it again.

God, your head is pounding, you’re so dehydrated. Without bothering to check the display, you pull the phone to your ear and answer it with a grunt.

“Hello, little swallow”.

His soft voice makes your heart leap straight into your throat. You sit up so fast you almost fall out of bed.

“Is it time?” you ask, trying to keep your voice calm. You close your eyes and imagine you can feel his warm breath in your ear.

“Yes ma’am”, comes the husky reply.

Alone in the dark of your room, you grin like an idiot.

Of course, he didn’t forget you. And now he’s finally calling you back to him.

“I’m coming … Father”.

---

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

PART II: The Night Father Paul Got Tied Up

You can find all my other Father Paul and John Tyler smut fics here:

MASTERLIST

[midgardianweasley]

The Royal Ball

The Royal Ball

Loki laufeyson x Fem!reader

Summary: There is an Asgard ball being hosted in the palace, Y/N is yet to find a date to accompany her. She’s disappointed when a certain God doesn’t ask her, however, what happens when he sees someone else getting a little too close for comfort throughout the night?

Warnings: lil bit angsty, self doubt, JEALOUS LOKI, fluffy ending

Word Count: 3.3k

Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

Requests are open loves <3

Y/F/N - Your Friend’s Name

It was a beautiful autumn’s day, crisp brown leaves were falling off of the large trees in the courtyard and scattering the cobbled ground. Loki and I had been wandering around for some time now, discussing everything from the books we’ve been reading to the dreams that have come to us in our sleep.

“And then this huge ghost thing was chasing me around the halls! and if that wasn’t weird enough, you popped up-”

“Ah, seeing me in your dreams are we, darling?”  Loki chuckled, taking great pleasure at the fact that he had made an appearance in my subconscious, completely ignoring my distress at being chased by a supernatural being.

“Funny you should say that, right after seeing you, I woke up. The sight must’ve given me quite the scare.” I scoffed, a smile unable to stop itself from making its way onto my face, eyes meeting his, face etched with shock. With a hand to his chest, he spoke again in disbelief.

“You have truly offended me, love. I never knew you had this side to you.”

“What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.” I winked, nudging his side slightly with my elbow.

“Really? Can you produce illusions?”

“No.”

“Look inside other people’s heads?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Turn yourself into a snake to scare your eight year old brother?”

“I still can’t believe you did that”

“My greatest achievement yet.” He smirked, the memory never failing to amuse him.

His stories always had me in awe of his capabilities, even if it was to give his brother a long-term fear, it was still an incredible talent. Whenever he tells me of his latest adventures or tricks, I always think of how well his title fits him. God of Mischief. Maybe that’s why I liked him much more than what a best friend should, not that I'd ever admit it. Not to him anyway.

We soon found ourselves standing next to one of the windows of the hallway, the crystal clear glass giving a beautiful view of the city of Asgard. From here, you could see the Queen’s gardens, full of flowers in all different colours and types, grass cut to perfection. You could see the families in the town, walking around the different buildings, children playing. It was lovely to watch, seeing everyone enjoy the seasonal weather and the light bounce off of the windows, it was ethereal.

“I never get tired of this.” I sighed, voice only slightly above a whisper

“Tired of what, love?”

“Just, this. This view, this kingdom, it’s incredible.” I looked up at Loki, trying to see if he was seeing the same beauty that I did. He was already looking at me when I met his eyes and upon seeing the way they sparkled, I assumed he did.

“Actually, speaking of the Kingdom, I have something to tell you. There’s-”

Abruptly stopping him from continuing his sentence, voices were heard from the other end of the hallway, though we couldn’t make out the words until they came closer. We gave each other a quick look of confusion before turning to see where the commotion was coming from, hearing the quick and heavy footsteps before being able to put names to the faces.

“Loki! Y/N!” A deep voice bellowed. Was that Thor making all of that noise?

Before I could process any more information, a blur of a pastel pink dress was in my face and hands were placed on my shoulders. I smiled down at the slightly out of breath figure using me as a support stand, it was Y/F/N.

“Wow, Y/F/N, you sound much different than when I spoke to you yesterday, did you drink something funny?” I chuckled, receiving a glare from my friend and a quiet laugh from the God beside me. Thor soon appeared next to Y/F/N, hands on his hips and head thrown back as he tried to compose himself.

“My God, Y/F/N, you run fast.” He pants.

“Care to tell us why you’re both running like madmen through the palace?” Loki speaks, one eyebrow raised in curiosity and what looked a little like concern.

“We..had to..tell you..there’s a ball..next week.” Y/F/N spoke, a bit more stable now, but still in between breaths.

I felt my eyes widen, a ball? I didn’t know Asgard held balls.

“Father is opening up the palace next week to neighbouring kingdoms, in hopes to be closer with them, open Asgard up to more trade opportunities, build relationships and whatnot.” Thor explained, emitting a loud sigh to come from Loki.

“I was just about to tell her, brother. Thank you for interrupting.” He rolled his eyes, half joking, half serious. I reached up and patted his shoulder gently, a small smile on my face.

“Maybe next time Lok” He nodded in response, I didn’t get a chance to comfort him much more before I was being pulled away by Y/F/N. With a small huff of surprise, I gave Loki a glance, silently apologising for our conversation being cut short, receiving a shake of his head in reply, affirming me to not worry about it.

“So.” she begins. “We need to find you a date and a dress. I’m thinking blue. I’m wearing purple so it’s probably best to avoid that one. Hmm. let’s see..oh! I know! we could- Y/N? You listening?” I snapped my head around, not missing the sly smile that was plastered all over my friend’s face.

“Y/F/N, don’t-”

“Loki! He has to be your date. You could wear green and match! If he’s even going to wear green, I'm sure I can get Thor to find out, I assume they’ll get ready together. And black accessories! I have so many ideas.” She clapped her hands, over-excited about the opportunity to plan this evening for us. Except for one minor detail.

“That sounds great, Y/F/N, it sounds wonderful, you’re just missing something.”

“Missing something? Oh, if you mean our hair then i’ve already-”

“No, not our hair. Loki hasn’t asked me, and I doubt he will.” I spoke, the second half coming out more as a whisper, my heart dropping a little at the thought. He’d never really expressed having those kinds of feelings for me and I'd always seen him be close with different girls around the palace, he’ll probably ask one of them.

“He might ask you, you never know what’s around the corner.”

“I guess so, we’ll have to wait and see.”

And that was the last we spoke of it before she went into full planner mode again, while I continued to ponder over all of the thoughts running through my head. I mean, he could ask me, right?

--------------------------

He didn’t.

After talking about it with Y/F/N, I had a glimmer of hope that maybe I was wrong, maybe I hadn’t noticed something that she had, that Loki would approach me and ask me to be his company for the evening.

I spent the next couple of days with him, hoping he would ask me, everytime a pause would appear in conversation, maybe he was finally going to do it. And everytime, a little bit of the hope I had, had fizzled out.

I’d even considered other reasons as to why he hadn’t asked, maybe the King didn’t want him and Thor to have dates so that they could mingle with members of the other kingdoms. Of course that theory had flown right out one of the Palace’s windows when Y/F/N told me that Thor was going to be her date. I was right then, he wasn’t wanting to go with me.

I guess I understood, I’m the best friend, we’d always been that. I think a part of me just thought that maybe he, like me, wanted something a little more. Clearly, I was mistaken.

Y/F/N and I had been getting ready for a while now, our hair was styled to perfection, our dresses were on and both of us were fully accessorized. We were looking at ourselves in the mirror, doing spins and curtseys and gushing over how good the other looked.

“You look amazing tonight, Y/N, really. Loki is missing out.”

“Thank you, and I'm sure his date is beautiful.” I spoke, fidgeting with the fabric of my dress, trying to avoid the subject and the twisting knot in my stomach at the thought of him with someone else all night. “You look incredible! You were right to pick purple, it’s definitely your colour.”

“Y/N’s right, you look gorgeous.” Thor declared, leaning against the doorway sporting a black suit and a dark purple tie, the perfect match with his date’s dress. I could feel my eyes light up when seeing how happy the simple, yet effective comment had made Y/F/N. Rushing over, she engulfed Thor in a hug before leaning up slightly and giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Ah and can’t forget, Y/N, you look stunning tonight.” He gestured to me, arm almost scanning me up and down.

“Stop, you’ll make me blush.” I laughed. “You both head off, I’ll catch up.”

“Are you sure? We don’t mind waiting?” Y/F/N questioned.

“Don’t be silly. You guys go on ahead, I'll meet you there.”

With a nod and a wave, they were off. They really did look like a perfect match tonight. I continued to look at myself in the mirror, fixing any stray hairs, flattening any kinks in my dress. Realistically, I was probably trying to prolong leaving for as long as I could. I was excited, but I was turning up on my own while everyone else had someone, it was a bit nerve-wracking. I still wanted to look my best though.

“Stop trying to convince yourself that you look good, you could literally blow an army of men away by looks alone.” A voice spoke, I spun to see who was speaking, the flash of green was enough to decipher who it was.

“You look lovely tonight, darling.” He grinned, the pet name had set off butterflies in my stomach.

“Thank you. As do you.”

“Well, I did put in an effort, nice to know it’s appreciated.” He joked, a breathy laugh left my lips, entertained by his words.

“Yes, well, I'm sure plenty of others will too.”

“The eyes will never leave me, I'm sure. Unless they’re on you, then I'd be surprised if I get even so much as a glimpse in my direction. Someone is a very lucky guy tonight, that’s for sure.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked, confused by his statement.

“Well, they get to be beside you all evening, it’s a beautiful view.” He winked.

It could’ve been you, I thought. I knew he was joking, however that didn’t stop the fire in me from igniting.

“I could say the same for you, someone is a very lucky girl.”

“I’ll be sure to let her know if she ever thinks otherwise.” Joking, again.

So he had asked someone. Albeit disappointed, I'm happy he’s happy. Though I still wish I was the girl in question, I couldn't stop him if he was interested in someone else. That wasn’t fair.

Giving him a brief nod and a tight lipped smile, I picked up the front of my dress a little bit and made my way out of the room and downstairs to the ball. I could still enjoy myself, the night is young, I've got this.

------------------

“It was crazy! And let me tell you, my dad was so angry with me. He didn’t let me serve Turkey again after that year.” Charlie, a guy that I had met an hour or so ago, finished his story of the Christmas horror he had, allowing me to relax for the first time that evening. Up until now, it had felt like all I’d seen was either happy couples, or stares from across the room. Usually the second and usually Loki. The same Loki who had a girl’s arm linked with his and was looking at him like he held the world in his grasp. I broke the gaze, finding it difficult to look at the pair for any longer, as I turned back to Charlie so he could have my attention again, a lazy smile was present as he took a sip of his wine.

“I don’t blame him, really, it sounds like you started a riot!” I exclaimed, sending us both into a full on belly laugh, thinking back to the story. This continued for another five or so minutes, laughter turning into a low chuckle, as if we were about to be told off for how loud we were being. Just as my hand had reached his arm to help hold me up, saving me from laughing myself into the ground, Loki and his date had made their way over.

“Enjoying ourselves, I hope?” He beamed, taking one look at me before giving his full attention to Charlie.

“Yes, yes we are, thank you. How about the two of you?”

“Ye-”

“It’s been fine, yeah, good. So, what’s your name then?” Loki interrupted, his date having no choice but to leave him to respond instead.

“I’m Charlie Fernsby.” He held his hand out, greeting Loki. A gesture that was very awkwardly not reciprocated as he let his hand fall back to his side before Loki spoke up again.

“Charlie..Charlie, now, isn’t that a girl’s name?”

“Loki!” I scolded, giving him an evil side glance, what was he doing?

“No, no it’s okay. Yeah, it can be used for girls too, but it's common for boys to have the name Charlie.” Polite as ever, he responded. A mischievous look made its way onto the God’s face. Oh no.

“So, I take it your parents wanted a girl?”

“I- I’m sorry?”

“I assume your parents wanted a girl, considering they’ve given you a girl’s name?” I rolled my eyes, this teasing was unnecessary.

“Charlie, let’s go and get a drink.” I tried to tug him away, only to be halted by another sentence leaving my best friend’s mouth.

“It was only a question, I'm sure he doesn’t mind answering, do you Carl?”

“Charlie.”

“That’s what I said.”

“You said-” I tried to interject, but he was quick to stop me

“I know what I said, Y/N, but I'm speaking to him. Let him answer the question.”

Loki’s date was long gone by now, she’d left to speak to another group of people, presumably another few couples, leaving us three to have this discussion, thing, whatever you would think to call it.

“I’m just saying, maybe they would’ve preferred a daughter, seeing as they’ve very obviously made that clear.” He beamed, expecting me to join in and agree with him, I don’t find this funny. At all.

“Can you excuse us, Charlie? Loki, A word.” I pointed to the door, giving him a look implying for him not to test me.

“I’m in trouble. Wish me luck Carlos.”

“Charlie.”

“I know, that’s what I said.”

I pushed him all the way out the door, into the hallway and round the corner so as not to disturb everyone else’s evening. When I’d made sure there was no one else around, I looked up at the Asgardian, my arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, I wasn’t impressed anymore.

“So, are we out here for some hide or seek, or?”

“What the hell was that in there?!” I raised my voice slightly, his need to always make everything a joke wasn’t working this time. He had his night, his date, he didn’t need to come over and insult mine.

“What was what, darling? I was making conversation.”

“You were making fun of him.”

“No, I showed some concern about his parents choices, that’s all. Friendly advice if anything.” He looked a bit more frustrated with me now, as though he was stating the obvious and it was going over my head. I wasn’t having it this time.

“No, Loki. You weren’t and you know you weren’t. You had your date, she was fine, you were fine-”

“Well-”

“Let me finish. Everything was fine. Until you caught sight of me having a friendly conversation with another guy who wasn’t you. But guess what Lok, I’m allowed to do that! I’m an adult, I can speak with whoever I like!” My arms were all over the place now, my frustration was starting to show itself, it seems I had a bit pent up.

I saw his lips move, I heard something, but it was so quiet I couldn't make it out.

“Speak up, Loki. I can’t hear you.”

“I said, if you think he was just being friendly, you’re clearly out of your mind.”

Is he serious?

“Are you- Loki, you have no right to make a judgement on who and how and why I interact with other people. Not that it should matter to you anyway, you’ve spoken to other women before and I've never said a word or tried to stop you. Why does this matter so much?”

Silence.

“No, please, go on, tell me, enlighten me as to why this bothered you so much tonight, because trust me, I'm dying to know, truly.” I was shouting now, I just wanted answers for his behaviour, I didn’t think it would be this difficult.

His hands had made his way into his trouser pockets, eyes looking everywhere before settling on mine. He looked conflicted, I wanted to drop it when I saw his troubled gaze, but I couldn’t go back in there without an explanation.

“Ple-”

“I like you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear, love? That I was so uncomfortable seeing some you get close with some guy that I had to embarrass him in front of you? Something I'm sure my father won’t be so impressed to hear, but there, you’ve got your confession.” His voice had gone much louder than mine, taking me by surprise, so much so that it took me a minute to process what he had said. He liked me?

He turned to leave, I assume because I hadn't said anything for a matter of minutes, but I gently grabbed his arm, tugging him back towards me. I looked up into his eyes again. I was so close that you could see the specs of different colours spotted in them, they were flawless. This view beats the Asgard view anyday.

“Why didn’t you mention this before?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Worried I guess. We’d never spoken of moving past friendship and I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“I’m more than interested, Loki.” I grinned, my smile meeting my eyes, never leaving his.

“Not Chelsey?”

“For the love, it’s Ch-”

I couldn’t say his name, a certain pair of lips had stopped me from doing so. As they molded against mine, my hands went up to tangle themselves in his hair, his hands falling to my waist and pulling me closer, I didn’t even think that could be possible. We pulled away when we needed to catch a breath, foreheads falling against each other, smiles painted on both of our faces.

“I bet I'll be in your dreams again tonight.” He whispered.

“I bet I'll be in yours.”

“Always are, Darling. Always are.”

taglist: @horrorxweasley

[reidingandwriting]

Chapter Two- “no body, no crime”

“No body, no crime. I wasn’t letting go until the day he died.”

Word Count: ~2300 words

Warnings: Drinking (legal), missing person, references to death & murder, mentions of an affair, mentions of guns and blood

Characters Mentioned: Neutral!Reader

Minor Original Characters Featured: Este, Lennox, Mark, Bella, Detective Hooper

A/N: I am soooo sorry for how long this chapter took to come out! Between college starting back up and spraining my wrist in a fall, it’s been impossible to write. But here is chapter two!! This chapter is where things really start to happen, and next chapter we’ll see some familiar faces again 😉 Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy the chapter!

Previous chapter

Next chapter

A few days later…

“I hope you don’t mind, but I might be pre-gaming for our dinner tomorrow.” You had said while on the phone with your friend Este the night before. “The last few days have been.. brutal.” You knew she could hear the shakiness in your voice, the remnants of the tears unshed as you tried to keep them at bay. But she didn’t say anything, and that’s why you loved her so much. 

“Be safe and I’ll see you tomorrow. Drink one for me.” You let out a teary laugh and hummed in agreement as you took another sip from your wine glass. “Love you, Y/N.”

“Love you, too. Goodnight.” “Goodnight.”

You rushed into Olive Garden the next day, a jacket over your head in an attempt to shelter yourself from the rain that started the second you parked at the restaurant. The cherry on top of your day. You fixed your hair haphazardly before you looked around the dining room, and you smiled when your eyes landed on your friend, at your usual booth.

“Y/N, welcome back. You know your way to your spot now, I’ll be right there with your usual.” Lennox, a familiar waiter, said as they passed you, a bright smile on their lips.

“What would we do without you, Lennox?” You offered a smile as you walked over to Este.

“I’m a big fan of the rained-on look, Y/N. Not many can rock that like you.” You rolled your eyes as you sat down across from her, and you took in your friend’s appearance. Her eyes were tired, the concealer applied a little heavier under her eyes than usual. Her outfit looked flawless, but her nail polish on her thumb was chipped. Her hair held their curls beautifully, except for the one curl that had been messed with until it was nearly straight- her nervous habit. 

“Oh, you know, nothing like a little rainstorm to spice up my outfit. Who needs to accessorize when you can get rained on?” You paused as your waiter came over with a glass of your favorite wine, and you thanked them before looking at Este. “You look tired.” You swirled your glass of wine before taking a sip, giving her a chance to speak. 

“I hate profilers, you know that?” She sighed but confessed. “It’s Mark. He’s been… off lately. I think he’s cheating on me.” You raised a brow at Este, setting your glass down to speak.

“Why do you think that?”

“He comes home from work late with the taste of cheap merlot on his mouth, and I got the latest bank statement. I don’t know what he got at the jewelers, but it isn’t mine.” She took a sip of her wine before looking at you, her eyes filled with determination. “I think I’m gonna call him out.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have any solid evidence yet, and I don’t want you rushing into something you might regret.” 

“Evidence? You’re making it sound like he committed a crime, Y/N. He may be a cheater, but he isn’t, like, a murderer.” Este drummed her fingers against the table. “And you’re right. I can’t prove it yet.” She paused as our food was set up at our table and didn’t speak again until the waiter walked off. “But I’ll catch him, and that’s a promise.” 

-

You sat at your usual booth, and you took small sips from your glass of water as you scrolled through your phone. You were distracted though, and it was obvious. Your eyes flickered from your phone, back to the dining room, back to your phone. It had been nearly half an hour since you arrived at Olive Garden, and you hadn’t heard from Este. Este had an occasional habit of running late, but she’d always text or call you saying she was on her way. You checked your messages and voicemail once more and frowned when you saw you hadn’t missed anything. You took another sip of your water as you settled back into the booth. I’ll wait another half hour, you decided.

-

Straight to voicemail. “Este. Call me back when you can, please. It’s been an hour, and I haven’t heard from you.”

Straight to voicemail. You dialed another number, panic beginning to rise in you. “Hi, Eleanor. Did Este come into work today? No? Okay, thank you. Bye.”

Straight to voicemail. “I hope you’re okay, but I’m so mad at you for scaring me like this. Let me know you’re okay, please? I’m calling Mark now. Love you.”

#

“The Fairfax City Police are asking for help regarding the disappearance of Este Williams. Mrs. Williams was reported to be seen last by her husband, Mark Williams, when she left due to an emergency call at work Monday evening. A friend of Mrs. Williams was supposed to meet with her on Tuesday evening, but Mrs. Williams never showed, leading to her husband reporting her missing that night. On screen is the most recent picture of Mrs. Williams and if anyone has any leads on her disappearance, please call the number listed below. An investigation has been opened and a local search and rescue will be organized.”

-

You couldn’t remember how long you had been in your car. You didn’t have a destination in mind when you left this morning, but you found yourself driving around Fairfax, around all of Este’s favorite spots. Sal’s Diner, the botanical garden, Wendy’s Coffee Shop. Everywhere you two frequented you had driven past that day, but there was no sign of Este anywhere. A week had passed since she was reported missing, and the local police department’s presence slowly faded into the usual patrols. Two weeks later, the search party had been called in and seemed to grow smaller and smaller with each passing day. Their discouragement was obvious due to the lack of findings regarding Este, whispers spreading through the streets that she had just left for bigger things. But you refused to believe your best friend had uprooted and disappeared without even a text. She had just been accepted into her doctorate program at Georgetown, she was supposed to attend her sister’s wedding. Something was off about this situation, and you spent your free time looking for anything that could result in finding your friend. 

By the end of the night, you found yourself in her neighborhood. You drove past her house, slowing to a stop when you noticed an unfamiliar car in the driveway. You then noticed Mark’s truck beside the car, the usually dirty vehicle now cleaned to where it almost sparkled in the moonlight. You parked off to the side, and you strained to look into the windows of the home. You could see the brief silhouette of Mark standing, and a woman on the couch. The unanswered call and texts flashed through your mind, and you gripped the steering wheel, your knuckles turning white from the harshness of your grip. Deep breath, Y/N, relax. You took a deep breath and relaxed your fingers, turned your car off, and leaned back in your seat. Not your first stakeout, and it won’t be your last. You knew Mark was involved but you just couldn’t prove it. Yet. And when you can prove it, Mark better pray to every god above.

-

Days had passed since you first started watching Mark. Your days started to blend into a cycle: your new glamorous job cleaning houses, a quick trip home to change, then driving to Este and Mark’s house. There were moving trucks the other day, Mark’s mistress moving in. Into Este’s home, where she slept. The garden she grew was torn out and covered up, every sign of Este ever existing was disappearing day by day. Deep down, you knew you couldn’t do anything to Mark. You weren’t in the FBI anymore, you couldn’t touch him. But all rationality had flown out the window when your friend’s disappearance had reached a month. You had spent hours in your car, waiting for the perfect time to find any evidence that would prove what Mark had done. And finally, an opportunity jumped out at you. 

You had a day off work and you found yourself on the front porch of Este and Mark’s house. There was Mark’s truck in the driveway, and as you knocked on the front door, you had to control your emotions. Feelings of rage coursed through your veins, and you shoved your hands into your pockets. Inhale, one two three, exhale. You are calm, cool, and collected. The door swung open and you plastered on a smile when you were greeted by Mark’s face. 

“Mark, hi. How are you? May I come in?” Mark’s confused expression morphed into a nervous expression, but he nodded and stepped aside.

“Please, come in.” Mark smiled at you, but you quickly recognized the fake smile. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting company. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just want to talk.” You walked through the doorway, the weight of your gun tucked into its spot in your waistband, concealed by your jacket. “About Este.” You closed the door and locked it behind you.

-

“Bella?” You asked as Este’s sister answered the phone. “I need a massive favor.”

“Of course, anything. What is it?”

“If anyone asks, I was with you today. We spent the afternoon together. Boating.” A pause.

“Is everything okay, Y/N?”

“I promise I’m okay. Speaking of boating, the Potomac River is gorgeous this time of year. We should go soon. This weekend?” 

“Sounds perfect. I’ll bring drinks, you sound like you could use a few.”

“Trust me, B. This is the best I’ve felt in a long time.”

-

A knock on the door interrupted you from your reading, and you walked to the door. You opened the door to reveal a police officer standing on your front step. 

“May I help you, Officer?”

“Detective Hooper. May I come in?” Detective Hooper flashed his badge and you nodded, letting him in.

“Please, come in. Help yourself to a seat, can I offer you a drink?” You asked as you led him to the living room, where you sat on the couch. The detective took a seat on the opposite end, and you sat up straight, attentive.

“That won’t be necessary. Y/N Y/L/N, I was the detective assigned to the case of your friend, Este Williams. As you are likely aware, there’s been no new developments in her disappearance case. Until today.” Look shocked,  you don’t know this. You looked at Detective Hooper with furrowed brows. “What was a disappearance case has now evolved into a murder case, and I believe Mrs. Williams was the first victim, Mr. Williams being the second.”

“What?” You let your head fall back against the couch and screwed your eyes shut. “She’s really- they’re really? They’re dead?”

“We still have yet to find Mrs. Williams, but we received a call that led to us recovering Mark Williams’s body in the Potomac River.” Detective Hooper looked at you with what you believed to be sympathy. The best he could show it with his job, at least. Okay, a little more sad. Your bottom lip trembled as you rubbed your eyes, taking a shaky breath. 

“What are you going to do? To find my friend? And to get justice for her husband?”

“That’s what I’m here for. We have no leads in this case, and you’re the closest person to the Williams, except for Mrs. Williams’s sister. I have a couple of questions if that’s okay?”

“It’s okay.” You sat up. “Anything to help.” You answered a few questions about how you knew the Williams, emphasis on your background with Este, and questions that delved deep into the relationship of Mark and Este. Did they have any problems? Who were their friends? Their enemies? Then the questions turned to you. What had you done the day Mr. Williams was murdered?

“Well, I’d usually have work. Cleaning houses.” You thought back to earlier, where you washed the blood splatter off your face, then cleaned your car to perfection. “But I had a day off. So I went to the docks and got my boat, it was a beautiful day on the Potomac.”

“You have a boating license?”

“My dad made me get one when I was fifteen.” You smiled. “Birthday present.”

“Were you alone?” He asked and leveled you with a look, in an attempt to see if you’d crack. 

“Este’s sister was with me.” You didn’t hesitate. “Ever since Este’s disappearance, I’ve been spending more time with her than I did before.” You admitted. Detective Hooper studied your face for a minute before he sighed.

“Thank you for answering all my questions. If you can think of anything else that could help us solve this case, please give me a call.” He handed you his card and you took it, and you tucked it into your pocket. “I’ll get out of your hair now. Thank you again for your time.” You and the detective stood and you walked with him to the door. As he let himself out, you paused to speak. 

“Detective?” He turned around to face you again. “I don’t know if this is any help, but I’d check into Mark’s mistress.”

-

“An arrest has been made in the disappearance of Este Williams and the murder of Mark Williams of Fairfax, Virginia. Mrs. Williams has yet to be found, but Mr. Williams was found to be murdered. Investigations are still underway and if there are any clues on the location of Mrs. Williams, please call the number below to be directed to our hotline.”

Taglist: @spideyspeaches @ssa-sugar-tits @willowsbendtothewind-blog @lazy-bird-fanfics @spencerhotchner @lolychu @ajeff855 @averyhotchner @meowiemari @liagzs @herecomesthewriterwitch @colorful-quinn @haylaansmi @theroyalsaikou @boring-yet-creatively-odd @drreidsconverse @notyourcupofteax​ @catherine-nelson 🤍 Taglist and requests are OPEN, send an ask/message/whatever makes you comfortable to be added or send a request :))

[happytroopers]

Bc I know y’all were SO looking forward to it and we’re avidly waiting, A week late but here’s Chapters 2 & 3 BoBF stream of consciousness shit posting:

Spoilers below,,, obvi

Episode 2

First and foremost this theme SLAPS a little derivative of the Mando theme but I’m not mad ab it at ALL

“You’re paying for the name” Fennec I love a brand conscious queen also I love that this implies that there’s brand bias not only in Star Wars but also specifically within the bounty hunting / assassin community’s

Ok we’re implying that someone went down there and cleaned up the rancor corpse, where’s the mini series ab that unfortunate soul and did Bib do it or was that on Boba’s to do list

Also I’m much more likely to believe that rumors spread ab a Jedi killing Jabba’s prize pet. I mean it’s Tattoine what else do they have to talk ab

Also the “just a man in a hood” call out?? Boba that’s,,, what you are?? And fennec??? And Din??? Well men in helmets but same thing different materials??? Badass but still

Loving the city hall “I will point in 300 directions all of them wrong just so I don’t have to do my job” notary clerk boy

MY FAVORITE BEURACRAT WIGGLER IS BACK

is the mayor dead??? Or just a pussy

“Ope sir, sorry, this area is restricted” me telling patrons they can’t come behind the bar but also being so scared of other people I don’t know how to enforce it

Not dead just self important got it

I relate bc my towns mayor also never wants to do his actual job but just sits in his office and stares at a wall all day

He ran a pest control business before being elected which isn’t important to this post but something y’all should know ab me and my town

“You know damn well who.” Boba stop being attractive pls

Did y’all really think I would mention the fact Boba has this guy cuffed and on a leash??? happytroopers is a whore first and a human second

Insert god I wish that were me meme

Boba is confusion

I LOVE THE ARM CROSS ™️

Pls do the chin lift I’m begging

“Those who thought otherwise, no longer draw breath.” The way I’m in love with this man

“Running a family is a lot more complicated than bounty hunting” was supposed to be a threat about crime families but it sounds more like the tag line of a fanfic that I WILL be writing now thank Mr. Mok sir

Gammoreans really wake up and and say tits out ass out every day and I for one think that’s beautiful

MAX REBO MY BELOVED

HOT TWILEK BOSS BABE ONCE AGAIN

I also love the use of Hot Male twi leks just for the female gaze. I love objectifying men on the big screen

Arm cross arm cross arm cross

I know we have to be dramatic or the series would be over too soon but like what if they just shot them before their litter even came to a stop

Like yea yea “happy, that would start a space gang war blah blah blah”

Kill the rest of them Hutts arent fast and notoriously turn on each other

Anti Hutt except for that one Hutt who just wanted to make music and vibe. We Stan him and him alone.

Actually where’s he at, let him lay claim to the throne.

Goth Wookiee! Goth Wookiee!!! A Wookiee and he’s goth!! He knows how to accessorize.

Not him using a rat as a sweat sponge

I love the master suite Boba pls let me **** in ***** **** *****

Time for more expositional flash backs

Gifted kid learning defensively 😌

“Show me” another audio clip tik tok is gonna take wildly out of context

I want to give post sarlacc pre Mando Boba a pack of Burts Bees so damn bad

Also just time line wise there’s a Krayt Dragon around here somewhere

Nope just an evil train

Evil train really said “I woke up, so I ruined lunch. And I had fun doing it.”

Better be good or the evil desert train will getcha!

This is the equivalent to me on the phone with my friends trying to make plans

None of us know wtf is going on

Not these bitches again

Oooo she’s pretty!

Something about this species feels,,, racially motivated

Not the white Jammie’s again

Also this is literally just the opening scene to Mandolorian but painted a different color

I understand the jammies are the flight suit under his armor

However he looks like ebenezar Scrooge

He said dis mine now

HE SAID DEEZ MINE NOW

Fuck it’s so easy to steal speeders huh

His teeth are so,,, pronounced

He’s trying so hard to teach them I love it

“Like a Bantha” 😁😁😁 “yes?” Boba I love you

Proud boba

The proud nod when he finally made the jump :,)

Ok so fresh out the sarlacc pit the chronic pain doesn’t appear to be bothering him,, like at all

Boba’s Biker Gang tshirts coming to a hot topic near you

So are gonna get an explanation as to why the evil train hates the Tusken Raiders so much? Or just cuz reasons??

Sorry I know but I’m just really caught up on Boba’s white Jammie’s

Evil train conductor!!!! Shifting into maximum overdrive!!!

Boba saw his little friend and really said 🙂

Very transformers the little scuttle was

Hey is that coaxium??? Bc the last evil train in this franchise was all about the coaxium??? If so valuable as fuck

“Like that 🧐” lmao

Episode 2 ending in another curt nod? But wait there’s more

Boba really prompting the industrial revolution

A FRIEND

“A lizard??? 🤨🤨 thank you!?”

“I’m sorry, I think I swallowed it 😔” he was so sad

Me the first time I did edibles

Still me the first time I did edibles

Wtf is going on

Was that stock footage of that one really famous great white splashing back into the water??

THEY GAVE THIS MAN AN EDIBLE AND NUST LET HIM WANDER

Not responsible trip sitters

Also is that lizard?? Just,,, in him?

If so I’ve found the source of his health issues

Ok lizards out

So this is like a common occurrence for them

How many trees are out in the desert bc this is NOT a renewable resource that tree was DEAD

Yes death too the Jammie’s

HOT BLACK SWATH OUTFIT HELL YES

Boba entering his reputation era (for the third time in his life)

Or Boba cosplaying the emperor lmao

Either way he’s hot af and it’s a much better look than the Jammie’s

Five minute crafts be like

Me and the girls at final campfire #justgirlscoutthings

Better than the first episode, things are looking up.

Still needing my gal Fennec to have some more screen time

Episode three

Isn’t order of the night wind featured in one (1) clone wars episode

Coincidentally one with Boba in it??? Or was that another,,, order of space ninjas in similarly colored outfits

HEY ITS THIS BITCH AGAIN

“Well now I am insulted” pared with the exaggerated brow lift,,,, we love sassy boba

How does one go about scoring an appointment??? Is there someone to call? Twitter? A holo site???

Oh the audacity to come into someone’s house just out of the fucking blue and be like “shah dude no one respects you 😐”

Where was he hoping to go with this

City lights are so pretty 🤩

Jawas :)

I love how his raider black swaths are reminiscent of a Kama

Is “ Where’d you get that water? 🤨” the tattooine equivalent of cops patrolling for underage drinking???

“That’s a crime.” Says the since childhood career criminal

Space punks!

Why is she more afraid that he took his helmet off

If anything that makes whatever fight she’s afraid of easier??? Also he’s handsome!!! Don’t looks so horrified please and thanks

“Talk dank” I hate it. I usually love the slang and the ~lingo~ but I hated that thank you

Lortho go away challenge

“Gather up your gak” is better but not by much

More critters :)

Time for more dreams

KAMINO FUCK YES

I miss baby clones

Boba was such a cute kid

That was twilight blue filter for a moment

They gave him a bantha!

“Congratulations on graduating the Tusken assimilation program! Here’s your weapon and your bantha, now off into the sunset!”

Her it’s the helmets we saw in Mando!

Not the freaking Pykes i hat these bitches

Is this what the Pykes look like in CGI/real life??? Very different from animation???

:(((((

Oop they got Skywalkered

Nice choral arrangement tho

GOTH WOOKIEE

quit throwing him!!! 😡😡😡

Oh no! Our boba!! It’s broken!

Does this Wookiee have its space rabies shots

HIDDEN KNIFE FENNEC YR SO SEGGSY

We love a caring crime boss

Space punks come in handy

Who’s their chef!!!!

Boba has stage fright :,)

I love how the twins INSIST on having humans carry them. Like we know for a FACTthere is easily accessible and affordable hover technology that would probs be faster and more reliable and YET

Awww it has a nose piercing

“Don’t work for scug holes” Boba said MLM be your own boss babes

This man,,, I know him,,,

Are rancors the pit bulls of the Star Wars universe

Boba loves pets confirmed, like Omega :,)

Will it imprint or try to kill him let’s find out

Is this a complex murder attempt by the hutts??? Maybe?? Do I love that Boba loves his rancor??? Yes.

“Not now. I’m busy. *petting his dog*” boba is a mood

I LOVE THE MOD POP SPEEDERS

What a vibe.

My fave wiggler is back :)

“Hmm.” Smacks lips “Um actually!” Love the beauracratic accuracy

New throne room unlocked!

MOUSE DROIDS!!!

Wasted water 😢

This is the slowest high speed chase in Star Wars history

POGO LEG STABBER

Not the Janna fan art

THE BITHS

So much wasted food :/

JET PACK BOBA

Pykes this Pykes that I’m tired of the damn Pykes just die already!!! No one cares ab u!!!

GOOD EP. don’t love we’re centering another thing around the Pykes but it’s ok. I hope the space punks get more fleshed out!!!

[kae-karo]

Kaeya and/or Diluc with the banter prompt "don't tempt me" or "you didn't answer my question"

thank u eternally dear anon for giving me the always-appreciated opportunity to write some kaeluc >:} (send me one of these prompts and a genshin character!)

make me melt again - T - 2k

tags: stranded on a desert island, no i haven’t done the event stuff yet, idk if we even get to that part by the time i post this, but i was inspired, kaeluc reconciliation, canon divergence

[read on ao3]

--

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Which one? You’ve asked an incessant number of them over the past-” Diluc cuts his words off there. Past how long? The sun has set, of course, so he can be relatively certain that some hours have passed, but the exact number is as yet undeterminable.

And Kaeya is doing his best to make it feel eons longer.

“Have you even been paying attention?” Kaeya chides, coughs out a laugh. How he’s finding this amusing, Diluc isn’t entirely certain. This is very far from enjoyable, though he supposes it isn’t the worst situation he’s ever ended up in.

“I tend to tune out when you speak,” Diluc says as he glances over the fire to where Kaeya watches him, brow quirked.

“Hardly an afternoon on a deserted island, and you’re already rather feisty,” Kaeya says with a laugh. “How long until you raise a sword against me again?”

It’s the again that does it, that snaps Diluc’s neutral, unbothered composure. His jaw tics with irritation - of all the people to end up stuck on an island with, it had to be Kaeya, didn’t it? The one person among an entire world who happens to be particularly adept at pushing his buttons.

“You’re welcome to reminisce to your heart’s content,” he grits out, “but I have little interest in rehashing the past.” There is a reason he put all of that behind him, sequestered all his hurt behind an iron wall and locked it away. He does not need it rearing its ugly head now, when they’ve-

Perhaps not reconciled, but they are at an understanding of sorts. They are able to be in each others’ presence without causing problems, though he supposes such a tenuous alliance might crumble under the weight of hours spent on a deserted island.

With nobody to talk to but Kaeya, and nobody to intervene should things turn any less civil.

Not that Diluc will be the one to raise a hand against Kaeya. Never again - he has long passed that place, that dark well of heartache and betrayal. Teyvat moved on, and so Diluc moved on with it. He presumes that Kaeya has moved on as well.

“It was not a particularly pleasant evening,” Kaeya says, his words accented with the crack of a splitting log. Sparks fly up between them, and Diluc catches Kaeya’s eye. Immediately drops his gaze to the dark pit of the burning logs.

“I don’t care to reminisce over it either,” Kaeya adds once the fire has settled. His voice sounds...different. Quieter, less...gods, he can’t believe he’s dredging this word up in relation to Kaeya, but it’s less seductive. So very unlike Kaeya, or at least, the Kaeya that Diluc knows now.

He wasn’t always like that, so inclined to charm every person he meets. So flippant with his flirting that it sets Diluc’s nerves on edge just to be near him.

“We never really talked about it, did we?” Kaeya’s voice carries a hint of humor, and an outright invitation to talk about it now, in spite of his words just a moment ago. Diluc clenches his jaw, fights back the hundred-and-one questions that had burned in his chest after that night. It has taken a very long time to quiet them, and he does not particularly think that they bear any relevance now.

“What is there to discuss,” Diluc says, and means it rhetorically. Kaeya shifts, sticks a leg out and toes his boot off.

“A lot of things, I think.” His other boot joins the first a safe distance from the fire along with his socks, and Kaeya pulls his knees up and leans back on his hands as his toes dig into the sand. “You kissed me the night before that.”

Diluc’s gaze flicks to the side, to the ocean, and he stares hard at the soft flicker of the moon’s reflection on distant waves.

‘And what if I want to?’ Kaeya’d asked. What if he did want to kiss Diluc, then what?

‘Well...I wouldn’t stop you…’ The bravest Diluc could get, even with Kaeya. Far less terrifying to face a horde of hilichurls than to admit how desperately, in that moment, he’d wanted Kaeya to kiss him.

‘But you don’t want me to, do you?’ Bait, he knew it even then, but it didn’t stop him from riding that spark of defiance as far as it would take him. Far enough to lean into Kaeya, push him against the nearest wall and press his lips to Kaeya’s.

“So you do remember,” Kaeya says quietly - this Kaeya, in the present. On a deserted island across a dying fire from Diluc, after so very many years of careful avoidance.

“Of course I do.” How could he forget the rush of heat flooding his veins, the spark in his chest flaring to life at the taste of Kaeya’s lips? The desperate hands at his waist, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. His own hands searching, too, clinging to Kaeya like he’d dreamed about doing for ages.

No, he might bury it deep in his chest, but moments like those do not disappear entirely.

“But you think that’s not something we need to discuss, is that it?” Kaeya quips easily, and Diluc glances back to find his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, now, his scarf and cape discarded. He looks...lighter, this way. Unburdened, but not by the weight of his excessive accessorizing. More that he seems unburdened by the weight of the persona, the facade.

And out here, who would he have to pretend for? Diluc has certainly never believed the performance.

“I think it happened a very long time ago.” And…

And what? He hears it in his tone, the unfinished nature of his statement. And Diluc fears to even discuss that night, for the fact that it might dredge up feelings he has never quite managed to destroy? He can hardly say that to Kaeya, he’d never hear the end of it.

To Diluc’s surprise, though, Kaeya only hums. Stares into the distance beyond Diluc for a long moment, his gaze unfocused. How does he remember that night? Fondly?

“It must’ve been easy, then.” A pause, intentional, and Diluc refuses to rise to the bait. He waits, and Kaeya continues after another beat of silence. “To cast me out if you never truly felt anything for me.”

The meaning of his words processes slowly, leisurely, a perfect match for the faint breeze that twists through Kaeya’s hair, carries on to brush against Diluc’s cheeks. The soft moment splits in two at the sound of another cracking log, and Diluc grits his teeth.

“Is that what you believe?” His words come out on a harsh breath, low and quiet. Kaeya leans forward, wraps his arms around his knees.

“Is it not true?” Bait, Diluc’s mind supplies unhelpfully, but he will not let Kaeya sit here and tell him that it was easy, that Kaeya meant nothing to him.

That it did not break his heart when Kaeya told the truth of his past.

“It is not,” Diluc says shortly, and he dares to level a stare at Kaeya. Kaeya meets his gaze in turn, and by all accounts, it should be flippant. Should be easy and light, and Kaeya should scoff and dismiss Diluc’s words.

The stare he gives is not any of those things, though. Kaeya watches intensely, with sharp focus and tensed muscles, and Diluc is not entirely prepared to handle the sudden weight of his gaze.

A subtle, faint smile flickers to the edge of Kaeya’s lips, a daring thing for how rigid he looks right now.

“Tell me it hurt,” he says then, quiet. Voice laced with a years-old ache that Diluc feels in his chest, and he’s seventeen again - eighteen, almost, just about. Tomorrow. But right now, he and Kaeya find a hidden alcove in the back of the library, and Kaeya kisses him until he can’t catch his breath.

“It hurt.” The words hurt, too, but he says them. Speaks them to the fire and knows that they pass through the flames to reach Kaeya.

“Did you regret it?” Cautious, probing. Diluc blows out a breath.

“For a very long time, I did not.” His gaze flicks up, just enough to meet Kaeya’s for a brief moment before he turns toward the ocean again. “I feel...differently now.”

The closest he can bear to admitting that he lost not one, but two irreplaceable people in his life that night. And that one loss was entirely his own fault, even if he’s learned to forgive himself for his father’s death.

“Time changes things,” Kaeya agrees, and Diluc watches from the corner of his eye as Kaeya shifts, climbs to his feet. “Care to see if it’s changed anything else?”

Diluc’s heart catches up to the words a moment too late, then redoubles its efforts at the idea of what Kaeya could be implying. He swallows, inhales dying fire smoke and grasps within his mind for anything to steady him.

A hand appears before him, then, the lifeline doomed to drag him under, and Diluc’s gaze drifts up to find Kaeya standing over him, a gentle smile on his lips. Not teasing, not put-upon or overly seductive.

Just Kaeya.

And oh, Diluc’s heart aches, begs him to reach out and take Kaeya’s hand.

“There’s nobody here,” Kaeya says softly. “Just us.”

Diluc lets his gaze fall again, back to Kaeya’s outstretched hand. He shifts carefully, lets his heart guide his hand to take Kaeya’s. And oh, the way his heart races when Kaeya’s smile widens.

He pulls Diluc to his feet, then huffs out an amused breath that puts Diluc immediately on guard.

“Are you not sweltering?” Kaeya’s free hand tugs gently at the lapel of his jacket, though, and Diluc’s brows furrow.

“Trying to undress me?” he asks, entirely deadpan, but it pulls such a sweet laugh from Kaeya’s lips that Diluc has to fight a grin of his own.

“I’m trying to prevent heatstroke, but don’t tempt me.” An amused warning, and Diluc sucks in a sharp breath at the hand that skates across his chest, the thumb that hooks around the inside of his jacket. “May I?”

Diluc holds his breath, finds it impossible to do anything but nod.

He will admit - though not to Kaeya - that he’s grateful for the cool night breeze that his jacket had kept at bay. Kaeya sets it alongside his own discarded accessories, then glances down at Diluc’s feet.

“Fine,” Diluc grumbles as he sets about removing his boots as well. At this rate, Kaeya won’t be satisfied til he’s-

A flush crawls up Diluc’s cheeks, and he rushes to discard his boots and socks alongside Kaeya’s. And, to his relief, Kaeya seems to find Diluc’s state of partial undress satisfactory. Again, he extends a hand, and Diluc does not hesitate to take it this time.

He leads Diluc across the sand, vaguely in the direction of the water, and Diluc takes a moment to- to miss this. The comfort of Kaeya’s presence, when it’s so often been little more than an irritation. He lets his steps waver closer to Kaeya, until they walk with their shoulders brushing. Kaeya does not pull away.

The water is cold when they reach it - or, rather, when it reaches them. It curls its way up the shore to meet them, and Kaeya draws to a stop as it swallows his feet for a moment. Diluc turns to watch him, to watch the sea breeze whip at his hair and pull it back from his face.

His eye remains closed for a long moment, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and his hand tightens in Diluc’s in the short second before he opens his eye again, catches Diluc staring. His smile widens.

“What do you think, Luc?” Diluc’s heart stops beating for a breath. “Has anything changed?”

He steps closer, hears his blood rushing in time with the waves, and lifts his hand to Kaeya’s cheek. Thinks that he missed this, that he did not expect to ever have it again. To ever want it again, but here it is. Here he is, and here Kaeya is.

And once again, he does not answer Kaeya’s question. Just leans in, lets his lips brush Kaeya’s, and melts into the feeling of Kaeya pressed against him.

No, he might’ve said. Everything has changed, but not this. Never this.

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Flower

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Request: Aww I loved the one shot with mother nature and Warren! I loved how her eyes turned pink, when she saw Warren! I'd like to know more about them. Could you give us a little fluffy glimpse into their relationship? Thank you, my dear! You're amazing! 💕

Warnings: language, brief nudity, mention of vaping, and underage drinking (everyone is 18+ unless stated otherwise)

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: I haven’t written anything in awhile but I’m trying to get back into things! Also I know this isn’t a glimpse into their relationship but I’m going to write some cute fluffy date one shots for them

Warren’s heart was pounding as he watched her from across the room. She was all he could think about, the class had no interest for him at the moment. He wanted to spend every second of his day with her, basking in her aura, living through every cliche they checked off together— 

“Warren?” 

“Huh?” He lost his train of thought and looked up at the teacher.

“What’s so important you’re not focusing on the board?” 

  “Oh, uh, nothing. Nothing, sorry.” A few kids snickered, and the teacher told them to stop, before continuing with the lecture.

“Now, does anyone know when the Cold War ended?”

Warren kept his head down and quickly scribbled down notes. 

(Y/N) raised her hand and was called on. “1991.”

Warren glanced at her again, reality sinking in for him…

Warren and (Y/N) were not dating. They were just friends. 

Sure, they’d kissed twice and held hands once, but so did most middle schoolers in their first relationship. 

Warren sighed and wrote down key facts about the fall of the Berlin wall.

Her eyes never faltered from their bright and soft pink hue when around him though— which meant she still liked him, despite what his mind told him at two in the morning. 

Scott and Jubilee told him he just needed to “ask her out.” 

Easier said than done. 

He didn’t want to just “ask her out”. He wanted to know her favorite color, the handful of youtube videos she would listen to for background noise while doing homework or tending to plants, her favorite comfort meal— Warren wanted more than the usual comfort he had with their friends, sitting in the group, not saying much, zoning out often. (Y/N) trusted him and saw the good in him. Warren wanted to prove her right— that he was more than his past mistakes and scars. 

He needed to spend more time with her, like when they finished their history paper and ate grilled cheese and played never have I ever. 

He wanted more of that, but he had no idea how to ask for it. 

—

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Scott asked for the millionth time.

“I have no interest in a house party,” Warren responded dryly. “I don’t like parties, and I’m trying to quit drinking.” 

“But you hardly ever go out with us!” Kurt complained. 

“I won’t have fun. I have no reason to go.” 

Scott sighed, ready to leave Warren be until someone came into the room.

“Oh my gosh, Scott, Warren, hi!” She greeted them, clearly not expecting to run into them.

“Kurt, Jubilee wanted to borrow your Thriller jacket. Not for tonight, but tomorrow, and I told her I’d tell you if I saw you…” 

“Oh! Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll just give it to her now.” Kurt walked over to his closet. 

“So… Warren…” (Y/N) fidgeted with her hands.

He immediately perked up, “Yeah?” 

“Are you— um, I don’t know if someone already said— but are you going to the party tonight?” 

“Are you?” He was sure she could hear his heart beating in his chest like a drum solo in an 80s hair band song. 

“Yeah! I almost always go to parties.” 

“Oh…” Maybe he would have fun if he went out for once in his life. “Yeah, I’m going.”

“That’s great!” (Y/N) was a little too enthusiastic and tried to hide her excitement with her words. “Um, we could maybe hang out then?”

 “Yeah, yeah, uh, sounds good.” 

“Great! I’ll see you later…” Warren nodded and hummed in reply. Kurt was long gone, having gone to Jubilee’s room to give her his red jacket. 

(Y/N) bid Scott goodbye and left.

“I can’t believe it…” Scott was utterly dumbfounded. All (Y/N) had to do was mutter a few words and just like that— Warren was going to the party. Warren never went to house parties with the group. 

“You never go to house parties.”

“First time for everything… Now get out, I wanna shower before we leave.” 

“Fine, fine.” Scott raised his hands in defense. “I’m leaving.”

Soon as the door shut, Warren ran to the bathroom to shower. 

He began to run shampoo through his hair and lather. Then he moved onto conditioning his ends, letting it sit for a while as he washed his body with soap and an exfoliator. 

Warren rinsed out the conditioner, and hopped out of the shower, scrunching the ends of his hair with a towel. He left them semi-damp and quickly washed his face, brushed his teeth, and put on deodorant. 

He didn’t bother to wrap a towel around his waist as he went to his closet to pick out something to wear. 

“Jeans and a t-shirt?” Warren held a David Bowie tee in his hands, before throwing it on his bed. “What was that thing Jubilee said?... Accessorize?... Do I own accessories?” 

Warren opened his desk drawer to try and see if he even owned any. 

He had a few old chains and some silver rings. 

“These should work… but is a t-shirt too plain? Should I do better? Would a black turtleneck look nicer?” 

Warren put his clothes and accessories on and looked in the mirror. “Yeah, yeah this looks good.” 

Warren dug in his closet a bit more, looking for something specific. 

Cologne. “Is this too much? I never wear this.”  He grabbed his phone and googled “where to apply cologne”. 

He rolled up his sleeves and starting applying a little to his wrists, forearms, and neck. “That should be good.”  Warren looked at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his hair before heading downstairs to meet up with his friends.

—

“She just bat her eyes and suddenly Warren decided to go to the party,” Scott explained to his girlfriend and her roommate as they got ready for the party. 

“Well, he likes her, Scott.” Jean pointed out.

“I’m just shocked—”

“We could get her to get him to do anything…” Jubilee thought out loud.

“Yeah, but (Y/N)’s too nice. She wouldn’t want to abuse the power she has over him, and she’s probably unaware of it anyway.”

“Do we have enough room in the car?” Jubilee asked as she applied mascara. 

“Kurt said he and Ororo were going to teleport and get there a bit earlier than the rest of us,” Scott said face looking down at his phone.

Jubilee rolled her eyes.  

“I think Noah’s going,” Jean offered up as she slipped her socks on.

“I might get him to play seven minutes in heaven with me.”

Scott squinted his eyes. “Noah Fence? He smells like mango-flavored vape.”

“He doesn’t actually vape— his sister does and her car broke so he’s been driving her to swim practice and stuff.” 

“Still, it’s gross.” 

Jubilee glared at him through the mirror, “You’re gross.” 

Jean shut down the argument before it could escalate, “Are you guys ready to go?” 

“Yeah.”

“Yep.”

“Good, let’s go.”

—

Warren ran into (Y/N) as he was heading to the garage. 

“Hey,” He greeted her. 

“Oh, hi! You look nice...” Her eyes were pink as she looked at him. A constant reminder of the feelings looming over them.  

“Oh— oh. Uh, thanks.” Warren’s face was slightly flushed from the compliment. 

“You smell nice too… Not that you don’t smell nice all the time!” Her eyes went fully purple in embarrassment. “Or that you’re gross— you just smell really nice tonight— um, I’m just going to stop talking. Uh, sorry.” 

“No, you’re fine. Um, thank you.” Warren bit his lip and fidgeted with his hands as he and (Y/N) waited for the others to get to the garage. 

(Y/N) awkwardly nodded and was silent, refusing to meet his eyes. 

Oh god… Warren thought to himself. She probably thinks I look scary… I should have just worn a hoodie and called it a day… She’s not going to want to be around me all night and then I’ll—

As the rest of the group entered the garage Jean interrupted his train of thought to explain (Y/N)’s demeanor. 

“She’s flustered, Bird Brain… She thinks you look hot.” 

“Oh… What?” 

Jean rolled her eyes and called out “Shotgun!” So she could sit next to Scott on the ride there. 

“I’m not sitting in the middle,” Jubilee said as she opened the car door.

“Fine,” (Y/N) sighed. “I’ll sit in the middle… Warren, do you want the left or right side?” 

“I don’t care.” Warren was nervous to sit next to (Y/N). He knew it would be perfect for them to make small talk, but Warren had no idea what to talk about. 

Jubilee sat on (Y/N)’s right, so Warren had to sit on the left. 

“Can I have the aux cord?” Jubilee asked. 

“No,” Scott said, waiting for everyone to put on seatbelts before pulling out of Xaiver’s large garage. “You had it last time, and all you did was play songs from Phinneas and Ferb.”

“Yeah, because they’re major bops!”

“Who’s Phinneas and Ferb?” Warren whispered to (Y/N).

She gasped, “You’ve never seen Phinneas and Ferb?” 

Warren shook his head, “No?”

“What?” Scott asked. “It’s a classic— you know Perry the Platipus and Dr. Doofensmurzt.” 

“Uh…” Warren was extremely confused.

“Oh my god!  We need to have a Phinneas and Ferb marathon! Me, you,” (Y/N) Poked Warren’s arm.  “Pizza, some breadsticks— we could do it next weekend.”

“Sure. I’m not busy.” If Warren knew not watching some kid show about a platypus growing up would lead to him spending more time with (Y/N), possibly alone, he would have said something sooner.

“Were you one of those kids who only watched PBS? Jean asked.

“The channel with all those British dramas?”

“No no, PBS kids— Arthur, Martha Speaks, Cyberchase, those shows?”

“Never heard of them,” Warren awkwardly admitted. 

“What’d you watch as a kid then?” 

“Um, a lot of old black and white movies… Psycho, M, Frankenstein, Vampyr… My mom really liked them, and we had a bunch so…” Warren shrugged. 

“Wait you watched those as a kid?” Jubilee asked. “How old were you?”

“Like eight? I dunno. That’s just what I grew up with.” 

“Hey, so uh, I just googled whatever M is. And uh— what the fuck?” Saying (Y/N) was shocked would be an understatement.  

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it? Like, do you need a hug? I’m very worried for you. Maybe we should go home and watch like kids cartoons or something—”

Warren couldn’t understand why she was so upset, but he knew she was extremely bothered. (Y/N) rarely swore. 

“It’s a good movie to teach kids about stranger danger,” Warren explained what his parents told him.

“It’s about a man murdering children!” 

“(Y/N), almost all kids watch a scary movie or two—” Scott misread the situation. “Alex let me watch The Exorcist when I was 10.” 

“Scary?” Warren asked Scott. “I didn’t—”

“What do you know! We are finally here!” Jean cut off Warren, glaring at Scott. 

“Let’s go find Ororo and Kurt— I think Sarah Byer was bringing white claws.”

Warren was a little unsure about the party once he stepped out of the car. He’d worked hard to stay sober for a few months and he didn’t want to break his streak. 

But (Y/N) grabbed his hand as they walked toward the sound of Travis Scott playing through speakers, and he decided to devote his night to her completely. 

After all, she was the only reason he eve agreed to come.

“Ever been to a house party before?” (Y/N) asked. 

“No, but I went to clubs in Germany. It’s the same right?”

“Yeah, I’d think so. Except no one is 21, and there’s chanting depending on if the host’s school won their weekend football game or not.” 

Warren smiled at (Y/N)’s joke. “The drinking age in Germany is 16. I wasn’t even carded when I went to places.” (Y/N) snickered as she fixed herself a drink. 

“That’s Smirnoff, can you handle that?” Warren was concerned, to say the least. He’d never seen (Y/N) drink, or even drunk. 

But you know what they say, “First time for everything.”

“I’m not going to have it without a chaser! Look, I know I don’t really drink, but I deserve this. I had a very hard week— one of the new students set my painting for class on fire, and now I have to start over and it’s worth 30% of my grade. I’m going to let loose a little.” 

Warren sighed, “Just don’t chug it. Speaking from experience.” 

“Thanks, Birdie.” 

Warren’s insides felt fuzzy at the sound of the nickname but blamed it on the loud environment. 

(Y/N) took a few sips before grabbing Warren’s hand again and dragging him into another room of the house. “Come on! There are some kids from Bayville I want to introduce you too.” 

—

(Y/N) found a mixed group of Xavier and Bayville students and had her and Warren join the conversation.

“Guys, this is Warren,” (Y/N) introduced him to the group.

A few hellos and names were given out for Warren and he just smiled and waved. 

“(Y/N) you look different, like not bad, but like different—” A girl with a split dye said.

“I’ve got more flowers in my hair.” 

“It might be the lighting, but your eyes look different…”

“Oh, uh, yeah…” (Y/N) took a large sip from her cup and avoided the other girl’s gaze as her eyes went from pink to purple. “New color, haha.”

Warren was blushing, thinking it was his fault she was so embarrassed. 

The girl with the split dye looked at him and then it clicked in her mind, “Oh… Oh…! Cute, cute.” 

“Shut up!” (Y/N) joking told her. “We’re just friends…” 

Warren tried to hide his nervousness with a half-assed chuckle, “Yep.”

“Whatever, I’m going to look for Kurt.” 

The girl walked off and several people from the group had wandered away as well. 

(Y/N) took another large sip of her drink. “Um, do you like, want to see what like Jubilee is doing or something? We don’t just have to stand around…” Her head started to feel heavy, but she ignored the feeling.

“Sure. Lead the way.” (Y/N) smiled and interlaced her fingers with his, dragging him into the main room. 

Jubilee was in the den with a few other kids playing truth or dare. 

“Hey, guys, can we join?” 

“Hey! (Y/N)! Sure, but I want an orange.” 

She giggled and sat down on the ground, Warren copying her movement. (Y/N) held her hand out for a moment, focusing on the orange growing in the palm of her hand. 

“Is a cutie good? All I can do right now,” She huffed.

“Yeah, that’s good.” She handed the mini orange over and officially joined the game. 

“Jubilee,” Some guy with glasses and a sports team t-shirt said. “I dare you to kiss Noah!”

“Pfft… Easy.” Noah was sitting to her left, so all Jubilee had to do was turn to face him, grab his shirt, and pull him into her, smashing her lips against his drunkenly and aggressively. 

The group let out drunken cheers and someone even wolf-whistled. 

Warren considered getting a drink, for he was way too sober for all of this. But he remembered (Y/N) had been drinking. A lot. What if something happened to her? What if she blacked out? What if she threw up? Warren didn’t want to risk it just so some silly house party could be more bearable for him. 

“I said kiss him not swallow his face!”

“You didn’t specify.” Jubilee shot back. “My turn!... (Y/N), truth, or dare.”

Someone booed. “She only picks truth.” 

(Y/N) swallowed more of the liquid in her cup before answering. “Nu-uh! Jube, I pick dare.”

“I dare you to take your bra off for the rest of the night!”

Warren’s eyes widened a little as she reached behind her back under her top to unclasp her bra. 

“Wooo!” A few people cheered.   

“Take your top off too.” One of the guys joked. Warren shot him a dirty look and the guy got very quiet and looked away. 

My scary looks actually came in handy. 

(Y/N) and Warren played for a few more rounds, but by then the game was getting kind of boring for (Y/N) and she wanted to do something else. 

“Ooo! Warren they’re playing a really good song, come on!” She dragged him out of the den and to the main room.

He didn’t recognize the song, but it wasn’t bad. (Y/N) quickly chugged everything left in her cup and handed it along with her bra to Warren. “Can you hold these? Please…?” 

Warren couldn’t say no, even if he wanted to. 

(Y/N) started drunkenly dancing along to the beat, having the time of her life. Warren moved a little bit with her, a bit more aware of his surroundings and socially awkward. 

“Loosen up!” She giggled. 

“I’m sober.” 

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have fun! C’mere—” She took his arms and guided them to wrap around her waist, forcing him to keep up with her drunken swaying. She guided his hands down to her ass, despite having her bra and empty cup in one of them.

“Woah!” Warren quickly moved his hands away from her ass.

(Y/N)’s eyes turned grey and purple. “Sorry… I thought you’d like that…” 

“Maybe when you haven’t had two cups full of vodka.”

“They weren’t full. There was lemonade and some mint leaves in there.” 

Warren nodded, going with what she was saying, “Uh-huh.” 

“I’m serious! You— you saw me! What— Whatever… Let’s keep dancing.” 

Warren obliged and they danced together for a few more songs. Mostly just (Y/N) waving her hands around and Warren making sure she didn’t trip— but dancing nonetheless. 

“Hey, I’m—” (Y/N)’s hand flew to her mouth and she stood still for a moment. 

“Hey, hey—” Warren put his hand on her back. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?” 

“No, no, I’m fine! I’m fine…” She tried to drunkenly reassure him. 

“Maybe we should go home. It’s late and I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Aww… Birdie…” 

“I’m going to text the group chat to let them know we’re leaving. We can get an uber or something.”

 Warren

(Y/N) almost puked I’m taking her back to the mansion.

 Jubilee

Get that plussy!, you sexi Draco Malfoy type 

 Jean

No offense is going home too! He lives near Xaiver’s ask for a ride 

 Jean

*Noah Fence

 Warren took (Y/N) outside and saw Noah on the front porch. “Hey, Noah.”

“Hey! Warren, right?” Warren nodded.

“Hi, Noahhhhhh…” (Y/N) slurred out. “Jubilee thinks you’re really cute…” 

Noah chuckled, “I know, we kissed during truth or dare. Remember?” 

(Y/N) squinted her eyes, deep in thought. “You did?” 

“Uh-huh...” He met Warren’s gaze, “You guys need a ride?”

“Yeah, Jean said you lived near Xavier’s?” 

Noah nodded, “Yeah, yeah. I live in the neighborhood over.” 

Warren opened the passenger door for (Y/N) and helped her step in the car. 

“You can sit in the front if you want, more space.” Noah offered.

 “I’m okay. Thanks though.” 

“Okay.” Noah turned his car on, the radio automatically playing. He quickly turned it off before backing out of his parking spot and heading onto the road of the neighborhood.

(Y/N) was starting to fall asleep on the ride home. Her eyes slowly closing, and her head falling to the side, resting on Warren’s shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her to make it more comfortable.   

The tension between the two boys made the car ride a bit awkward.

“So… uh, Jubilee said this was your first house party with (Y/N).” 

“Yep.”

“Are you guys like dating or…?”

“Um…” No was technically the right answer, but it didn’t feel right. (Y/N) and Warren had kissed, twice. And her eyes were still pink around him no matter what. She liked him and he liked her. 

Warren really needed to grow a pair and just say “Screw best friends to lovers” or whatever he used as an excuse as to why he put off asking her out. 

“It’s complicated…” He told Noah.

“Ah… I see…”

“Yeah, I don’t know—”

“No, I get it. I get it. Jubilee and I never really put labels on whatever we are, and like, I’m cool with it. But it gets weird sometimes. I dunno…” 

Warren awkwardly chuckled, “Yeah… Relationships are… complicated.”

Noah pulled into the front through the gates, stopping his car to let Warren and (Y/N) out. 

“(Y/N)...” Warren gently nudged her awake.

“Hmmm… What?”

“We’re home. You gotta wake up.” 

“Aw…” 

Warren opened the car and helped her out. “Thanks for the ride, Noah.”

“Yeah, no problem! See you guys later.”

“See ya.”

Noah drove away as Warren and (Y/N) went through Xavier’s garage to enter the mansion. 

“Where—Where’s my bra?” (Y/N) cupped her breasts in confusion as they walked up the stairs to the dorm floor. 

“You took it off and gave it to me.” 

“Oh…” (Y/N) looked at the bra warren had hanging from his forearm. “You can keep it…” 

“I don’t— I don’t have boobs.” 

“Oh…” Her face fell. 

“Ah!” A light went off in her mind. “You have pecs though.” 

Warren blushed, “Yeah, but, you need  this more than me.” 

(Y/N) sighed as she opened the door to her room. “Fine… set it on the desk.” She kicked her shoes off. 

“Want to grab your toothbrush?” He asked.

“I’m tired…”

“I know, but you’ll thank me later if you at least brush your teeth.” 

“Fine.” She grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste out of a bag.   

“We can use my bathroom. That way I’ll stop you from falling asleep at the sink.” 

“Lead the way, Birdie.” Warren obliged, and led her out of her room towards his. (Y/N) quietly linked her pinkie with his. Toothbrush in her other hand.  

Warren’s heart fluttered inside his ribcage. 

He quietly opened the door and turned the light on. (Y/N) followed him inside. 

They both went into the bathroom, (Y/N) standing in front of the sink, and Warren sitting on the closed toilet like it was a chair.  

She stood there, looking in the mirror for a moment. 

“You good?” Warren asked, thinking she zoned out.

“Yeah…” (Y/N) nodded. “My eyes are really pretty… I like the pink...” She looked at Warren and grinned. 

“You’re so drunk.” He teased.

“I am.” (Y/N) turned the water on and wet her toothbrush, then put the toothpaste on, before bringing it up to her mouth.  

 She didn’t do a great job at brushing her teeth, her hands tired and she kept laughing at nothing, but she still brushed them nonetheless. 

(Y/N) rinsed her toothbrush off when finished. She yawned, and Warren stood up. 

“Need me to carry you?” He offered.

“Oh…” Her eyes turned purple. “I’m too big…” 

Warren shrugged, “I can lift like five-hundred pounds, you’ll be like a flower in my arms.”  

She looked at him, tired and eyes wide, “Okay.” 

Warren scooped her up in his arms, bridal style, and carried her back to her room. (Y/N) buried her face into his chest, enjoying the moment in a haze. 

Warren left the light off and set (Y/N) on her bed. 

(Y/N) took her pants off, throwing them on the floor along with her top. 

Warren’s eyes widened— he looked into her eyes— avoiding glancing down and overstepping boundaries. 

“Why do you keep starring at my face?” She asked as she plugged her phone in. 

“Uh, you don’t, um… I don’t— you’re naked.”

“Oh! I’m naked!” (Y/N) quickly got under her covers and drew them up to her neck. 

Warren chuckled lightly at her antics, “Yeah. You are.” 

(Y/N) yawned and shifted in her bed, getting comfortable. 

“Do you have water and pain killers?” 

“Uh-huh… my bag.” She mumbled.

“Take those in the morning, okay?” 

“Mhmm…” She hummed.

“Okay…” Warren patted her head. “Goodnight, Flower.” 

“Goodnight…”

Once Warren had left, (Y/N) felt like she melted into mush under her blanket. 

He called me Flower… and he pet my head… I think I’m in love with him…

She quickly fell asleep after that, with the moment playing on loop in her tired mind. 

[side-shawty]

Burn VIII (Stark!Reader)

VIII: Yellow Lights

Fandom: Marvel (MCU)

Type: series

Prompt/Summary: Everyone needs to be reassured sometimes

Pairing(s): Peter Parker x Stark!reader, Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Requested? YES

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

•

“May! I can’t find my belt!” Peter yelled from his room, he had been searching frantically all morning. 

“Which one?” May called back, most likely from in front of the TV in the living room. 

“The black one that Ben gave me,” he replied and heard May move from her spot but instead of concentrating on her, he continued his quest.

“This one?” May said from his doorway. He looked toward her from his seated spot in front of his closet.

He stood almost immediately, “Yes! May, you’re a wizard,” he said kissing her cheek and taking the belt before tossing it onto his unmade bed.

“If I was, I’d be able to get you to keep your room clean,” She said as he haphazardly shoved things into his drawer and forced his closet door closed.

“I’ll clean it tomorrow, promise. Isn’t Sunday like a cleaning day anyways?” Peter asked moving to pack his backpack for the day.

“Sure,” May said moving to sit on his bed. “Peter I have to ask you something before tonight,” she said and the serious tone made Peter pay close attention to her but not halt his actions.

“What is it?” 

“What exactly is going on between you and Y/N?” May asked and Peter finally stopped what he was doing to turn to her with wide eyes. Peter had told her some of what was going on but not nearly everything.

He cleared his throat, “Well, um, I — she,” he began but couldn’t seem to get the right words out.

May stood at his distress and put her hands on his shoulders. He had gotten so tall since first becoming Spiderman but he was still her little Peter that lost too much too fast.

“Breathe, honey. Happy has already told me the gist of it but I just wanted to hear it from you. Are you dating?” May asked and his newly relaxed shoulders were tense all over again.

“I don’t think so,” he began, looking somewhere over her head, “I like her a lot but I don’t want to rush anything. And I mean we’ve been on dates but I haven’t asked her to be my girlfriend or anything,” he finished.

“Well, I think you should. You haven’t fallen over yourself this much since Liz,” she said and this made him look at her. “But it’s different this time, the look in your eyes is so much brighter and happier when you talk about her. There’s no hiding or secrets. When you’re together you just look like two happy teenagers,” May smiled and Peter couldn’t help the smile that pushed through the blush on his cheeks.

“Thanks May. You think I should ask her tonight?”

“I do,” she started, “But for the love of god please try and make it romantic. This venue is gonna give you a pretty good head start already,” she said before pulling him into a quick hug.

~~~

Nothing in your life had ever gone so smoothly. When you got to the venue the ballroom was set up perfectly. The only thing you had to do was wait for the flower arrangements and favors to be delivered. 

You were doing a final walkthrough when the flower arrangements arrived and you knew this was the end of your smooth sailing. 

There were supposed to be red and white peonies at the entrances and similar but not matching ones for the stage but when they arrived the peonies for entrances were red and the rather large ones for the stage were baby blue.

It took everything not to lose it on the delivery guy. It wasn’t his job but you’d be damned if you didn’t show him at least a bit of the fire in your eyes so he had a story to tell his superiors.

Twenty minutes later you got a frantic call from the florists telling them they would be there in less than 30 minutes with red peonies. Pepper had given you a serious talk about needing to be stern when working with businesspeople because you had always been framed as “Tony’s sweet innocent daughter” and they would walk all over you because of that. 

It was really paying off now.

Once the flowers were fixed you took a deep breath. You could feel your body temperature rising and the last thing you needed right now was for your venue to literally go up in flames.

You oversaw as the rest of the setup went smoothly and two hours before the doors opened you went to the venue’s bridal suite to get ready. 

You had changed into a dressing robe and were finishing on your hair when there was a light knock on the door.

“Come in,” you called, not taking your eyes off the mirror.

“Wow your hair looks so pretty Y/N/N,” you heard Morgan’s voice and you turned to face her and your mother with a smile on your face.

You opened your arms as she ran to you.

“I wish my hair curled like that,” She said tugging at her loose curls a bit sadly. They were almost identical to the ones your dad had at her age. 

You decided on keeping it natural because even the very beginning summer in the city was hot and humid sometimes and you didn’t really have time to get protective styles done anymore. 

“What? You have the cutest little curls I’ve ever seen,” you told her pinching at her cheeks as she settled onto you lap.

“Really?” She asked as you continued on your own hair.

“Yup,” you said popping the ‘P’ before your mother joined you both in the mirror and took the products from your hands.

“It looks beautiful downstairs Firefly. You really outdid yourself,” She said and began putting your hair into the updo you had showed her days prior.

Pepper had been doing your hair since you were little because your father had been a lost cause from the very start. He didn’t fare much better with Morgan’s hair either.

“Thanks mom, I learned from the best,” you said smiling at her and she couldn’t help but smile back as she pulled your hair into a ponytail but allowing a few curls to stay out and frame your face.

This was the most relaxed you’d been all day. As your mom finished your hair and Morgan took an interest in a game on your phone. You closed your eyes, only for them to shoot open at the question your mother posed.

“So is Peter officially your boyfriend now?” The question came after your hair was done so you quickly whipped your head around to face her. Careful not to drop your sister.

Who had subsequently gasped excitedly at your mother’s question, “Does that mean that Peter is my brother for-real now?” You snapped your head back around to look at her.

These two were going to give you whiplash.

“Wait. Stop. He’s not my boyfriend,” you told them.

“Do you want him to be?” Morgan asked.

“Yes, no…maybe,” you said and Pepper’s eyes softened at the distress in your voice.

She walked around so that she was leaning on the vanity in front of you. She gave you the look and that was all it took for you to cave.

“I mean I do but is it too soon? I mean it’s not like Harley has my heart anymore but I don’t want to rush into anything,” you told her.

“You know it took your father and me eleven years before we finally decided to tie the knot. Granted we had been together for a few years before that and that man is actually insane,” she said and gave a wistful smile, you and Morgan laughed lightly. 

“But sometimes I wish we had dived in head first, especially after you came into our lives. I always knew I loved him, even when I denied it so even though what you and Peter have right now might not be love yet it’s worth taking a risk. You’re only young once,” She smiled at you when she was done and you smiled back. 

You hesitated for a spilt second before saying, “You’re right, thanks mom,” she smiled and gave you a kiss on the cheek before lifting Morgan from your lap.

“Anytime sweetheart. Now finish getting ready, you’ve only got an hour and a half and Peter will be here in an hour with Happy and May,” she told you as Morgan gave you your phone back and they headed for the exit.

“Aye, aye Captain,” you saluted and she rolled her eyes.

~~~

Your makeup was done quickly and almost as perfectly as if you had gone to a professional. You had been coming to events like this since you were younger than Morgan and that meant that you had makeup down to a perfect science.

All that was left was for you to put on your gown and shoes. 

Unzipping the garment bag you were once again floored by the beauty of the gown. One of your mother’s friends had begged to make custom gowns for the three of you and had pulled out all the stops.

The gown was a deep red with thin straps and a deep v-neck on the fitted bodice. The dress flowed from your waist effortlessly only interrupted by a slit halfway up your thigh. There was no beading, just perfectly draped silk that shone as the light hit it.

You dressed quickly accessorizing with a diamond earring and necklace set that your father had gotten you for your 17th birthday. Finally, you made sure the bangles for your suit were secured to your wrists before slipping into your heels.

You checked the mirror once more before hearing a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” you called for the second time that day.

Turning to face the door you were greeted with an already-smiling Peter and you couldn’t help the warmth you felt creeping under your chocolate skin when his delight turned stunned. 

“Wow, Y/N, you look incredible,” he said as you took in his appearance. 

Sure you had seen Peter in a suit before but never like this. He was all hair gel and muscles in black on black and you weren’t sure your heart could handle it if he kept staring at you like that.

His top two buttons were undone as he held his tie in his hand.

“Thanks Peter. You clean up pretty nicely yourself,” you said before walking over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Thanks,” he said and had finally looked away long enough so that his own cheeks produced an adorable flush.

“Um, Mrs. Stark said you could give me a hand with this,” he said holding up his tie.

“Of course,” you said, your voice was soft as you tried to ease both of your nerves.

He was silent as you began wrapping the black tie around his neck. The only thing special about it was the single red stripe down the center that matched your gown.

After you were finished the air felt even more awkward, neither of you moving back from your very close proximity. You looked at him, taking in his features and when he looked back you realized that tonight would be intense if he kept up with that stare.

You caught his eyes as they slipped down to peek at your lips and did the same, as he looked back up. A silent affirmation of exactly what he wanted.

He held your waist tightly and pulled you closer to him almost agonizingly slowly. Frustrated, you tugged at his tie and his lips fell softly onto your own.

And that was all it took for you to lose yourself in Peter. Suddenly there was no gala, or press, or superheroes. It was just you and a boy you thought the world of who was holding you and kissing you as if you were the only one who he ever had eyes for.

As you moved your arms to lock around his neck you felt his tighten around your waist and any part of you that wasn’t flush against him had ignited as your body met his.

You could spend the rest of your life completely lost in Peter’s kisses.

That was until three quick raps on the door startled the two of you into breaking apart and look to said door,

“Five minutes, Y/N!” Happy called from the other side and didn’t wait for a reply, just retreating with heavy footsteps.

You and Peter laughed together as you looked back at each other. All the awkwardness from earlier seemingly fading away as you untangled and straightened out your clothes. 

Peter fell into a bow, “Shall we m’lady?” He asked and you laughed squeezing his outstretched hand.

“Yeah let me just fix my lipstick,” you winked at him and he blushed.

•

NEXT CHAPTER

[rpmemes-galore]

Wynonna Earp --- Season 1  {Sentence Starters}

“Please. I love her.“

“You brought backup?!“

“No. You lose, you die.“

“Do you think it’ll scar?“

“Please! Shoot me! Shoot!“

“Duh! I’m nuts remember?“

“Why didn’t you shoot him?”

“Hey, you came back for me.”

“Guess you missed your bus.“

“Wait. Did I just marry a skull?“

“Do it. Do it. I’m already in hell.”

“More like a blaze of stupidity...”

“CRAZY CHICK WITH A GUN!“

“You don’t know that for a fact...”

“Come on. Find my weaknesses.”

“Fine, I’ll let you share the kitchen.“

“Yeah. Careful’s not really my style.“

“I know you’re here. I can smell you.“

“I’ve never been so scared in my life.“

“You can never really go home, again.“

“Uh, guys, I think I got a little bit... shot.“

“You got powdered sugar on your nose.“

“Don’t you think he’s a little old for you?“

“Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Forgiven? Or not?“

“As long as I get to kick someone’s ass.”

“How dare you! And you owe me dinner.“

“Have you ever tortured anybody before?“

“I couldn’t tell you; I don’t do relationships.“

“I want them to tremble with fear before me.“

“I’m… I’m in a relationship. With a boy. Man.“

“Ugly and dumb. You sure we haven’t dated?“

“How about smiling? You ever do that? Hmm?“

“This is not the kind of penetration I’m used to.”

“I never blow jobs without saying a please first.“

“We need that gun. And I’m talking to my truck.“

“Well, now they’re gonna have to deal with you.“

“You know, you’re awfully needy for a lone wolf.“

“It’s in my panty drawer. Why don’t we go get it?“

“Because I’m very good at killing very bad guys.”

“Are you FBI? I didn’t quite recognize the badge.”

“Your hair smells like lilies. The flower of funerals.“

“Are you telling me the demons are trapped here?“

“Your ass is like… It’s top shelf, man. It’s top shelf.”

“Isn’t this the part where you say you love me, too?“

“Oh, please, I didn’t even have time to accessorize.“

“I’m sorry. This is so many different kinds of horrible.”

“You’re the one who told me I should blow off steam.“

“You sure you didn’t want to threaten her with death?“

“Pfft! You’re hardly qualified to give relationship advice.“

“Your apartment’s been broken into; you can’t go back.“

“I do not recall what lie I told you. I was probably drunk.“

“Now, the ritual wasn’t a total success, four people died.“

“Oh, damn. I really hope you’re not as hungry as you look.”

“And you’ve seen a lot of them, given your criminal record.“

“Any idea where this guy is so I can shoot him in the dong?“

“Maybe you underestimated the good that’s left in this world.”

“If that shit ticket thinks he’s coming in here uninvited again...“

“Oh, man, I need to start drinking less... or much, much more.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open for a zombie wearing an icy-hot patch.“

“Those are the dark places! And hiding didn’t help me last time!“

“Could you please take this seriously, just one goddamned time?“

“When I think about what I wanna do most in this world… it’s you.“

“If the public know that demons are out there… widespread panic.“

“Why don’t you slip into something more comfy, huh? Like a coma!”

“Wanna know how batshit I am? Nobody shoots my family, but me.“

“Ego sum totaliter stupet balls. That’s Latin for ‘I’m totally amaze-balls’.”

“Oooh! Do I get a badge? A code name? Oh, my God, a flamethrower?“

“I got a good feeling about you. And I’m an excellent judge of character.“

Just get in a closet, under the bed, anywhere the darkness can’t find you.“

“Everything in my body tells me he’s one of the bad boys. My entire body.“

“Honey, I’m flattered, but for a whole wack of reasons, you’re not my type.”

“That jokes kills with the Hell’s Angels. There’s something wrong with you.“

“I brought you a shirt, so put your coffee back on.... You know what I mean.”

“Ooh, I should shoot you right now, just for being such an obstreperous jackass.“

“You know, of all the things I’ve ever wanted to call you… you’re such a coward.“

“You of all people should know better than to try to make me question my sanity.“

“And when I find your not-so-imaginary friend, oh, honey, I’m gonna make him pay.“

“Have a little faith. We’ve survived hotdog-stuffed crust pizzas, so I think we got this.“

“Look, if you’re about to propose a threesome, I’m tired and I haven’t shaved my legs.“

“Sorry, I’m supposed to go find all the people I’ve hurt and beg their stupid forgiveness!“

“I was just thinking  ‘ I need another man to tell me what to do today ‘, and here you are!“

“I am gonna put you in the ground like it’s my job. ‘Cause you know what? I’m starting to think it is.”

“Bravery… is just a fancy word for stupid. Please refrain from accusing me of such foolishness.“

“And don’t do that, I have a big burly boyfriend who can bring a calf to its knees in 8 seconds flat.”

“Management reserves the right to refuse service to jackasses. I’m management, and you’re the jackass.“

“But there is a power in taking the life of someone else, and it is unequaled by anything else in this world. It is a dangerous drug.”

[victorie552onepiecespeedrun]

Reading One Piece pt 166: Chopper Says Pick A God And Pray

Chapters 405-408

Thoughts:

- There’s a color page. God, why is there a color page. I saw a comic with Straw Hats in these costumes and thought “Why would anyone create such abomination?” And now I have Oda to blame for it. Why, Oda, why

- Damn it, stay DOWN, Spoiler Guy

- Ah, now we got that owl reference

- Lol

- How in the name of seven did they get into the water

- Chopper really can’t help here

- He hears sounds

- “No way, did he open the fridge door!?” what did you expect would happen, Chopper

- Now Franky and Spoiler Guy are fighting in the water

- …ok, so Spoiler Guy can fly? Is that what I’m seeing?

- Yup

- Listen, how long will that fight be. Stop flirting and finish it already, you two

- Fpos/cs: “Transform into “Princess”, “Painter” and “Paula of the bar””! aww, go follow your dreams, ladies. Guys, guess which one’s a princess

- What is this nonsense

- FINALLY, Spoiler Guy is DOWN FOR GOOD. Take his key, Franky

- Meanwhile, Zoro and Usopp…

- …well, they’ll working on their cardio, that’s for sure

- CP9 is arguing in the back

- …Zoro. Zoro, no.

- DO NOT CUT OFF ANY LIMBS YOU HEAR ME!!!!

- No, wait, he has another idea. I’m a little scared to hear it, to be honest

- “YOU’RE NOW… A SWORD!” “Get me a lawyer” ahkfgGhfhhdJChf oh my god

- In the kitchen, Chopper worries about Hairy Samurai’s metabolism

- What is happening here

- …Looks like Chopper will have to take his special drugs to defeat that guy and he’s not happy cause it will wreck his body. Drugs are bad, kids

- He will take them. He didn’t say that yet but when three pages ago Zoro contemplated sewing his hand off the future is predictable. What kind of role models, Oda

- Fpos/cs: “Chocolade Lady, Fireman, Pizza Delivery Man and Tank” aww pt 2! If you’re wondering who’s the Tank, it’s the dog

- They destroyed that kitchen

- Chopper is desperate, poor guy. YOU CAN AND WILL DECK THAT GUY, YOU BRAVE REINDEER

- Oh, we’re getting flashback! Doctorine’s here to yell at little Chopper!

- “He’s gonna kill me” NO HE WON’T

- Hah

- WHAT THE HELL

- BOIIIIIIIII

- OUR CHOPPER’S AN ELDRITCH MONSTER NOW!!!!

- Franky got the key. It’s a wrong one, but it’s a key

- Meanwhile…

- No, excuse me, why is Kalifa taking a bath. What the hell

- Oh, Nami fought her already and lost I assume. So Kalifa went to take a bath

- …no, it still doesn’t make sense, what is CP9

- “What’d did you do to me!?” oh right, we still don’t know Kalifa’s new power

- (it’s still a fanservice to end all fanservice :D )

- Oh look, Nami stood up and hit Kalifa with thunderbolt. You go, Nami!

- Fpos/cs: “Pirate King and Hero” …huh. That spell has a very wide range. Follow your dreams, Mr.1. Crocodile, your dream is doomed, find a new one (lol, his face)

- Meh, that did nothing

- Ah, Kalifa’s a Soap Woman now! She can create bubbles from any part of her body! Better power than giraffe, that’s for sure

- “Wah, she’s so sexy! If she were my secretary, I’d be happy! …WAIT, I’M NOT A MAN!!” either you were possessed by Sanji’s spirit or you’re at least bi, Nami. Those are your only options. I would go with bisexuality if I were you

- “The bubbles I diffuse from my body can remove anything.” Oh shit, that bad

- What am I watching

- Ah, that’s how she make people shiny

- (Sanji… what did you let her do)

- Yes, yes, please let’s go back to our Eldritch Monster  

- Ahahahaha

- Goodbye, Hairy Samurai, I never liked your speeches

- …

 - …Jesus

- Oh no, Chopper lost his senses

- Meanwhile, Spandam still didn’t get to The Gate of Justice

- I like Spandam’s cape. It looks really good with his elephant sword. Man knows how to accessorize

- Oho, this time they all heard it! Luffy’s coming!

- “Chief, please keep going… and take Nico Robin with you” ha, I knew Lucci wanted that fight

- Yeah!

Luffy and Lucci meet again!

rOP 165  rOP 167

[burstingsunrise]

Favorite kind of rock? Favorite places to visit? How do you feel about rain? I know how you feel about snow. Sand? What's the best kind of chip? Thoughts on pirates? Gold or silver? Tell me a story.

i should have known when i saw you were up at 6am that this would be happening. you also sent this to my main (maybe you meant to? who knows.) so we’re doing a little improv here. @cringeycal i’ll even tag you so you can find this when you’re conscious.

favorite kind of rock

i like pretty things, like amethyst and rose quartz, or like anything with a cool indent of an ancient creature in it?

and also all the rocks luke hemmings has seen in his life. iykyk.

the rest...

favorite places to visit

oh okay so pre-pandemic you could find me at the fucking alamo drafthouse multiple times a week. so that’s on the list. it just feels nice sitting quietly in the dark and having a soda and a snack, you know? no pressure.

but i just like going places in general, seeing new things; cities i’ve never been. there aren’t that many places i go over and over. i’ve been to chicago a lot, and i do love it. i also like visiting la and reminding myself why i could never live there even though i love visiting.

i also went to london a few months before the pandemic and maaaaaaan, if it weren’t for the days being 3 hours long and everyone’s commitment to dark colors, i could absolutely live there. my pasty skin responded so well to its natural climate, and the EFFICIENCY good god. i’ll save my praise of the tube for the tell me a story portion of this ask.

how do i feel about rain?

i like rain as long as i’m inside and my electricity and internet still work. i don’t like driving in the rain, and i used to like walking in the rain but now it reminds me of my emo dayz so i don’t really do it so much anymore. if i listen to white noise to sleep it’s always rain.

sand?

i like beaches. sand on its own is...not ideal, because anakin skywalker is right. but it’s worth it for the beaches.

best kind of chip

classic fritos, no question. like i might dabble in a nacho cheese dorito or a sour cream & onion potato chip, but it always comes back to fritos.

thoughts on pirates

all i know about pirates comes from disney. i appreciate that they’re sort of lawless, but they also have a code. i like their commitment to accessorizing and having a unique aesthetic. OH i like that they have songs. but also the whole living on a boat thing? not for me. like i can’t even go on a cruise; how does anyone spend their life at sea?

gold or silver

silver! i like how it looks better, and it looks better on me. don’t get me started on how it’s so much harder to find silver jewelry than gold and how that is a crime against those of us with neutral and/or cool skin tones.

when i was in middle school i was in a tumbling contest with my friend and i won a gold medal and she won silver and i was kind of jealous of her for getting the prettier medal. h u m b l e b r a g.

tell you a story

okay so you know how when you go to a concert at a big arena or whatever, you have the choice of leaving a little early and rushing out to “beat the crowd,” or you can stay and then you get stuck in a massive crush of people slowly exiting the venue, and then you have to wait forever for a train and it’s so crowded and miserable and sometimes you can’t fit and you have to wait forever for another; or you have to sit in a cramped parking lot/garage and bumper to bumper traffic for hours before you can escape?

these geniuses in london are like fuck your freedom, you’re going to follow some rules. they have crowd control in the venue pointing people where to go and keeping them moving in the right direction, quickly. they have a fucking ORDERLY QUEUE from the venue to the train station, with line police to make sure no one tries to go around and cut ahead, so it KEEPS MOVING STEADILY. then when you get to the tube station, there’s a train LIKE EVERY FUCKING TWO MINUTES and because the trains are coming as quickly as the line is moving, THEY DON’T GET CROWDED. you can sit down, even!!

it was maybe 20 minutes from exiting the o2 to my hotel in central london. i’ve spent longer just waiting for someone to let me out of a parking space after a concert!!! when i say my mind was blown, that is an understatement. this is how it could be!!! why are we not doing this?!?! (rhetorical question with a devastating answer).

so you probably weren’t expecting a story about logistics and transportation infrastructure in london, but have one anyway.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and dating Veronica Sawyer

(Not my gif)(requested by anonymous)

- You meet Veronica in the lunch room as she’s walking around with Heather. You’re sat at a table with your friends when the two girls come up to your table and ask you the daily poll.

- When she sees you for the first time she just can’t seem to take her eyes off of you. At first she thinks perhaps it’s because she hasn’t seen you around school before or just out of admiration for your style/features. But then you complimented her outfit and she internally lost her shit for a good minute, it was then she realized that this was not in fact a normal reaction and something was going on with her.

- Soon enough she realizes what exactly is going on and it ...slightly troubles her. Where she’s from being gay isn’t exactly normal nor really accepted.

- As much as she doesn’t particularly like/trust the Heathers she also has no one else to talk to, so with reluctance she tells them about her feelings for you. Heather C basically just says “Well you didn’t pick the worst chick to want to date. She’s not a total mutant like some of these people…could use some more blush though.”

- It’s easy to forget that the Heathers and Veronica were actually friends no matter how catty they could be with one another. They still sort of want the best for each other so when Veronica confides in them they attempt to give her any advice they can. They do do her a favor (without her knowing) and invite you to ‘Become a Heather’ which you slightly agree to meaning you and Veronica get close.

- She doesn’t really know what to do about her feelings, she wants to act on them but that doesn’t feel like an option considering where she’s from. She writes a lot of diary entries about you and her feelings just to get everything out.

- You both do that whole ‘you stare at the person and when the person looks at you, you look away then that person stares at you until you look at them’ thing.

- Her heart races every time you compliment her and vice versa (but she doesn’t know that just yet).

- She begins to write you secret admirer notes. You have no idea it’s her because she disguises her handwriting every time she writes them. It kind of makes her smile when she gets to hear all about how cute you find the little letters and seeing all the Heathers giggle along as you read them.

- You only find out its her when you catch her slipping one into your locker but at the time you assume it’s just an invitation to a party or some notes you might have missed from class. It’s only when schools over that you get to read what she dropped in and it’s another lovey dovey note.

- You call her after school to hangout and when she comes to your house you act as though everything’s normal until you hand her the note. She tenses up and freezes in her place as you wait for a response. As quickly as she can she tries to apologize and explain herself before you stop her, telling her it’s alright.

“It is?”

“It is.”

“...You’re not mad?”

“No, in fact I’m quite happy.”

“...really?”

“Yes really, I’m just waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you to ask me out.” She looks at you completely shocked before a smile spreads across her face and she asks you out.

- The two of you go to a bookstore where you both split apart and find a book you think the other will enjoy. After you meet up again you go back to her place and read together while listening to some soft music.

- Your first kiss is that day as your date ends. She stops you as you’re about to open the door to her room and puts a hand on your cheek, leaning in and kissing you. The two of you break apart smiling and you leave her house happy and excited with your new relationship.

- A lot of kissing and cuddling.

- She’s open to sex pretty early on so it depends if you want to or not, she doesn’t want you to feel pressured to do it. 

- She’s a self admitted mini genius so she’s happy to help you study and plan your calendar.

- She definitely forges notes/passes so that she can get you out of class with her. You just have to hint at needing a signature or something and she’ll do it for you.

- Horror movies are her ally. She loves having you grab her hand whenever you get a good scare.

- She’s probably a little insecure after having been friends with Heather Chandler for so long and being the talk of the school for better and for worse. 

- She tells you you’re beautiful all the time and gives you this adorable little smile when you tell her the same. 

- She sort of prefers to stay out of the spotlight especially when you’re together just in case people start to get suspicious. She’ll grab a lunch table in the far corner of the cafeteria or the two of you will eat somewhere else together.

- The Heathers usually butt their way into your lunch dates or dates in general. They’ll just show up and sit with you all while starting a conversation about something that’s just happened to them.

- The Heathers choose to ignore your relationship, it’s not that they don’t like it just that they think it’s best to be willfully ignorant. They’re still getting used to the fact that they know not one but two gay/bi/etc girls.

- She’s a raging pessimist most of the time but you brighten up her outlook on life. 

- You guys play croquet a lot. She’s happy to teach you if you dont know how to play.

- Her room is really cosy so you guys hangout in there a lot. It’s also a bonus that her parents are completely clueless as to what you two actually are. They just think you’re really good friends like her and the Heathers.

- She writes you little poems every now and again.

- Makes up overdramatic plays to entertain you starring a very overdone preformance by her.

- She wants to protect you all the time, she knows just how mean people can be.

- She usually has an arm around your shoulder or looped with your own during the school day. It’s a normal thing for ‘ friends’ especially the Heathers to be affectionate with each other so no one questions it.

- Pâté with her parents.

- You have dinner at her house at least once a week, afterwards you, her and her parents sit and watch tv together.

- She definitely has some deep rooted issues that she doesn’t talk about (in the movie you’ll see that now and again she tries to hurt herself). You try to help her anyway you can but ultimately wait until she’s ready to come to you about what wrong with her.

- Being there when she needs someone to rant to especially about Heather C.

- She can always tell when something’s wrong and makes sure to be there for you when you need it.

- Having to bite your tongue whenever someone flirts with one of you or the both of you at the same time.

- She strokes your hair absentmindedly whenever you’re sitting and watching tv together.

- Fights are usually screaming matches but they’re resolved pretty easily and quickly so it’s never really that bad.

- Doing stupid shit together.

“What if we like coughed up a phlegm glob or something?”

- Photobooth pictures of the two of you

- She loves your praise especially when it’s about something other than her looks. She’s used to people thinking she’s pretty so it’s a nice change when you compliment something about her that she’s actually proud of.

“Tell me how good this is”

“It’s great”

- Cue a cute little smile.

- Knowing each other’s locker combos and borrowing each other’s stuff.

- You probably join the yearbook committee with her and the two of you help each other with your work.

- Morbid jokes.

- Getting your designated color for when you’re with the Heathers. They subtly make sure it looks good with Veronicas blue, that’s how you know they support the two of you together.

- Taking care of her whenever she gets drunk/sick at parties. You’ve had to hold her hair as she pukes more than a few times.

- Quick comebacks that never fail to make you laugh.

- Taking naps together after school.

- Gossiping and making fun of people together for shits and giggles.

- Convincing her to hang out with Betty Finn more, she’s an absolute sweetheart to the two of you.

- Helping her accessorize since she apparently can’t do it for shit.

- She’ll say “love you” over the phone but she has a little trouble saying it in person. It makes her a little embarrassed and she ends up getting tongue tied before she can get it out.

- You offhandedly talk about the future, like she’ll make a comment like ‘we should do this next year’ or ‘god I could marry you’ or ‘next year I’m going to take you to do this’ and the ever so common ‘after highschool I’m blowing this town and taking you with me’.

[sparklingskz]

sweet rivalry | hwang hyunjin

▸ requested?: yep!!

▸ genre: high school au, enemies to lovers, a lil bit of angst and fluff

▸  pairing: reader x hyunjin

▸ description: you and hyunjin felt that everything was a competition between you. What happens when you discover you’re not that different?

▸ word count: 2.7k

▸ warnings: swearing

▸  a/n: thank you for the request!! also guys thank you so much for 170 followers, ily all <3

“Okay students, gather up.” Your school principal gesticulated for you to enter the auditorium and sit down. Once everyone was in place, he continued. “In two weeks the school will be having its annual fundraising fair, with the objective of raising money for various school activities. As always, every club will be able to set up and manage a booth, but this year we have an interesting little addition.”

You looked at your friends in anticipation, wondering what this new thing was.

“The club that raises the most money will win part of the funds collected and matching hoodies for all members!” The principal exclaimed.

A competition? That was definitely something that interested you, plus plenty of funds were collected each year at this event so even a small part of it was going to be helpful. You were the president of the baking club at your school, so you could definitely use the money for more equipment. And the matching hoodies would be a cute plus, of course.

Once the principal finished announcing the typical school news, you all left the auditorium. You were commenting the fundraising competition with your friends when you suddenly heard a very familiar voice addressing you.

“Ready to lose, y/n?”

Hwang Hyunjin.

You turned around to face him and were met with his typical smirking face.

“You wish.” You retorted, glaring at him.

It was safe to say you and Hyunjin were rivals. Both of you were the top students of your class, were presidents of the most popular clubs at school (Hyunjin led the photography club, you led the baking club), and were constantly fighting over the sympathy of your teachers, so everything was always a competition between you two. It all started a year ago when you and Hyunjin were set up against each other in a school debate and he won, the rivalry sparking ever since. The nasty remarks and attempts to overdo each other were normal between you.

“The photography club will clearly win this.” He said smugly.

“We’ll see about that, our booth idea will obviously be better than yours.” With that said, you turned around to face your friends. “Club meeting, now.”

-

One week was left until the fundraising event, and your club was all set. As you were part of the baking club, it was only appropriate that you set up a bake sale to collect money. A part of you was worried that it was going to be a little cliché, but the treats your members could bake were amazing, so you were still confident.

You were having a casual conversation with one of your friends while taking books out of your locker, when you were interrupted.

“Discussing how you’re going to try and beat my club’s booth, y/n?” Hyunjin asked with his typical snarky tone.

“For your information, my club’s already done preparing everything, and we’re going to win.” You threw a fake smile in his direction.

“Oh, really? And what would your great idea be, in that case?” He inquired.

“A bake sale, of course.” You said proudly.

Hyunjin chuckled. “How original.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not going to be saying that when you see all the things we’ll sell. What is your club even doing you’re so confident you’re winning?

“We’re accessorizing pets and taking their pictures. How are people going to resist cute puppies and this cute face?” He pointed to himself.

“I can resist perfectly fine.” You retorted.

“You don’t count.”

You feigned offense, putting your hand to your chest. “Your words hurt me, Hyunjin.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Whatever. We’ll truly see who wins next week.”

“Exactly. Good luck, you’ll need it.” You said before turning on your feet and heading to your class.

“You’re the one that’s going to need it.” You could hear him mutter before you left.

-

The day of the fair you arrived a bit earlier to set up your club’s booth. You and your members had brought a wide variety of baked goods to sell, and you displayed them in different plates and stands. Everything looked delicious; you weren’t one of the top clubs in your school because of nothing, after all. Once all was in order in your stand, you and the members who would help manage it sat down to wait until people started arriving at the fair.

Half an hour later, everything was going smoothly. A respectable amount of baked goods had been sold already, and people were admiring your booth all around. Your club had raised a good amount of money so far, and you were confident.

During a moment when business was slow, you decided to take a look around the halls of your school to see what the rest of the clubs had set up. You saw a booth selling old items, another one painting kids’ faces, one with some carnival games and one even selling lemonade. Then, you arrived to the designated zone of the photography club, and were met with the sight of Hyunjin talking to a dog using the typical baby voice while trying to put on a small bowtie on its collar.

You weren’t going to lie and say your heart didn’t soften a little bit at the scene.

He picked up the dog and put him in front of the backdrop they had set up, another member of his club preparing to take the photos. That’s when Hyunjin turned around and met your gaze.

“Ah, y/n! Passing by to see how much better we’re doing than you?” He raised an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, an action that was apparently very recurrent in your interactions with him. “As if. We have this prize secured.” You said confidently.

“If you say so.” He muttered, turning around and moving over to attend the next customer.

You couldn’t deny that Hyunjin’s booth idea was good. His club was amazing at photography, obviously, and cute pets were all they needed to outshine everyone. You weren’t saying that because the sight of Hyunjin holding a puppy softened you, of course not.

You turned on your heel and headed towards your booth, as you still had a competition to win.

-

“y/n? We ran out of napkins, can you go get some from my backpack? I left in in our homeroom.” One of your friends said.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

You stood up and headed in the direction of your homeroom, up in the second floor of your school. You were about to go up the flight of stairs when you suddenly heard frantic footsteps and a panicked voice chanting a name.

“Ollie? Ollie, come here!”

You turned your head towards the voice and saw a very concerned Hyunjin, apparently looking for something.

“Hyunjin? What are you doing?” You said puzzledly.

“One of the dogs we were taking pictures of ran away and I can’t find him, so I don’t have time to have a conversation here.”

Hyunjin looked agitated, his hair disheveled probably thanks to him running his hands repeatedly through it in frustration. Basically, he looked miserable, and all your instincts were telling you to lend him a hand, but the reasonable part of you was telling you “he’s your rival!! This can make his fundraising fail!!!”

But you said fuck it.

Right before Hyunjin could run off again, you exclaimed.

“Wait! I’ll help you look.”

You wish you had captured the shocked look on his face. “What?”

“I said I’ll help you look. And you said you couldn’t lose time bickering so how about we get going before the dog gets even further away?”

Hyunjin looked like he was pondering his options in his head, and finally nodded his head. “Okay, let’s scan this floor and if we don’t find him we can go upstairs. His name’s Ollie, if you find him let’s just reunite here.” He said hurriedly.

You nodded and took off in one direction, Hyunjin going the opposite way. You scanned corridors and classrooms in case a door was open and the puppy got inside, but there was no sign of him.

“Ollie? Come here, puppy!” You were repeating while you searched.

Once you were sure the little guy wasn’t on any of the halls you searched, you headed in the direction of where you met with Hyunjin. You found him standing there, looking worried.

“No luck?” He said anxiously.

You shook your head. “Let’s go upstairs.”

You both went up the stairs quickly, and Hyunjin spoke. “How did I even lose a dog? I’m supposed to be the one taking care of that stuff, I’m the president for God’s sake.”

You stopped and turned to face him. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up, it was obviously not your intention. We’re going to find him, don’t worry.” You reassured him.

He took a big breath and nodded. “Okay, let’s search this floor.”

You again took off in different directions, calling for the puppy and searching all corners. Suddenly you heard the faint sound of paws hitting the floor, and hurried in that direction. You arrived to an empty hallway, a small puppy happily strutting in the middle of it. You quickly approached him and, once you were close enough, scooped him into your arms.

“Got you.” You muttered.

At that same moment Hyunjin appeared on the other side of the hallway, and you saw him visibly relax.

“Oh, thank God. I would’ve gotten murdered if we didn’t find him.” You heard him say before approaching both of you. “Why did you get lost, little one? Do you know the fright you gave me?” He scolded the puppy in your arms, using the baby voice.

Your heart may have started beating a bit faster at the proximity, but you were going to keep that to yourself.

You gave the puppy to Hyunjin, who took it in his arms.

“Thank you so much for helping y/n, you didn’t have any reason to do that…” He said, sounding a bit timid.

“It’s no problem, you looked like you were one second away from a heart attack so I needed to help.”

He laughed, his beautiful smile on display. Wait, his what? These thoughts need to stop.

“Anyways, I need to get this guy to his owners. See you when they announce the winner, get ready to lose.” He said, but you detected less seriousness and more playfulness in his last remark.

You rolled your eyes, but this time you were sporting a smile.

-

“And with a total of 235 dollars raised, the winner of the fundraising competition is… The hockey club!” Your principal announced during the assembly the next day.

You and your friends looked at each other, disappointment evident in your expressions. You had raised around 200 dollars, so you were still proud but a little sad you didn’t win. You watched as the hockey club went up the stage to receive their money and jackets, a little envy in your gaze. Just a little.

When the assembly came to an end, everyone left the auditorium and started heading to their respective classes. You were doing the same when a familiar voice made you turn around.

“It appears we were both wrong, huh?” Hyunjin said, approaching you.

“It looks like it. What did the hockey club even do? I didn’t see their stand.” You inquired.

“They set up a dunking booth outside, 5 dollars to try and make the math teacher fall to the water. It was very popular, I suppose.” He shrugged.

“Makes sense they’d win then, I would’ve totally paid for that.”

Hyunjin laughed at your statement. “Don’t you get straight A’s in that class?”

“Doesn’t mean I like the teacher.” You said in a “duh” tone.

“What is this? The perfect y/n rebelling against the teachers?” He said in mock amusement.

“Firstly, I’m far from perfect. Secondly, you have to do what you have to do to get the teachers to like you, even faking.” You whispered the last part of your sentence.

“Yeah, I get it.” He also leaned closer to whisper. “I don’t like many of the teachers too, but having them like you has its perks.”

You chuckled, silence coming down on you two right after. A few seconds later, Hyunjin spoke.

“You know, the rivalry we have going on is kind of weird”

“And why would that be?” You tilted your head in curiosity.

“We’re both top students and presidents of the best clubs here, we should, I don’t know, help each other? Work together? Imagine if we did class projects and assignments with each other, we would be unstoppable.” He finished with his classical grin.

You took in his words for a second, as this was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth.

“Is this you proposing we stop glaring at each other in the hallways?” You said playfully.

He laughed. “Maybe.”

“Then I accept your proposal.”

-

In the next few weeks your relationship with Hyunjin did a complete 360 turn.

Before, if a class project or assignment was announced, you and Hyunjin would glare competitively at each other prior to turning to your respective friends to decide who you would work with in an attempt to overdo the other one. Now, you share a knowing look and work together.

Before, you would spare glances at each other in annoyance when you happened to be studying in the library at the same time. Now, you sat at the same table, helping each other with difficult topics and sharing knowledge. Now, you noticed the cute way he furrowed his eyebrows when he didn’t understand something, how his lips pursed in concentration when he read and his habit of running his hand through his hair absentmindedly.

Before, every time your school had club meetings you tried to outshine Hyunjin and his club, and vice versa. Now, you came to find that he was an amazing leader, cared deeply for his club members and friends and you really admired him for that. You were starting to see all the good aspects of Hyunjin that were hidden under your judgement thanks to your rivalry.

And it scared you, because maybe you were starting to fall for him.

It was literally the one thing you didn’t want to admit, but with the way you were spending so much time together, how could you not? Beyond the top student that got amazing grades was this sweet, attentive guy that you wouldn’t mind spending more time with.

The thing is, you didn’t know if he felt the same.

Until one day, when you were wrapping up your study session in the library, and he asked an unexpected question.

“Hey, do you maybe want to grab something to eat after school tomorrow?” He said with a nervous tone you had never heard from him, while scratching his neck.

“To study? Do we have a test I’m not aware of?” You almost reached out to read your phone’s calendar to see if you missed something.

“No, just to hang out or talk and stuff. You know what- forget it, it was stupid to ask.” He said while gathering his things.

“Wait, Hyunjin.” You said, stopping his actions. “It wasn’t a no. It was just unexpected, that’s all.”

“Yeah, it’s just that we’ve spent all this time together but it has always been under an academic context, and I’d like to hang out with you outside of school, maybe get to know each other more…” He said, not meeting your eyes.

The usually confident Hwang Hyunjin was nervous, all while inviting you to hang out. Could this mean something?

“Hey, why are you so anxious? Of course I’d like to hang out with you after school.”  You said, trying to reassure him.

“Oh, good. You know, I didn’t know I’d actually have the confidence to ask you out.” He said, relaxing in his chair.

“Hey, who said it was a date?” You said teasingly, trying to play with him.

You watched him freeze in place. “Oh, I- I didn’t mean that, I just…” He turned to stare at the floor again, visibly embarrassed.

“If you want it to be a date, the let’s make it a date.” You said with confidence you didn’t know you had, considering your heart was beating 100 miles an hour.

He looked up and met your gaze, a breathtaking smile adorning his lips. “Let’s make it a date, then.”