#Priestly

[zepskies]

Code Red

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x Female Reader

Summary: When you call him for help, Priestly realizes that he finally has the relationship of his dreams.

AN: So I didn’t think I’d ever write for this character, but it was prompted by a lovely anon and encouraged by my friend @thatonewriter15! I hope you enjoy. ❤️ 

Song Inspo: “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. “I’ve found a love…”

Word Count: 1,500 Tags/Warnings: Period talk, suggestiveness, mega fluff

He was in the zone.

Four six-inch double buffalo chicken clubs with banana peppers on whole wheat bread (gross, but he wasn’t the one eating ‘em), two spicy Italians, and a tuna on rye.

Priestly wrapped them up with practiced precision and slid them down the line to Piper, Mission Impossible-style. She smiled at his antics and took them and brought them over to Tish at the register.

Priestly had another turkey and provolone on his docket, hold the mayo, when his cell buzzed in his pocket. Today he actually did have pockets. As in, he was wearing joggers, boots, and a graphic tee that said: NO TEQUILA, NO ENTRY.

He swiveled his phone in his hand like a drummer with a drumstick. He smiled when he saw your name flashing across the screen, and he answered it.

“Hey, Beautiful. What’s up?” he asked.

“Boaz, I need you,” you said. To his ears, your voice was sultry, and a bit strained.

He perked up with raised eyebrows.

“What’s holding up the turkey and cheese?” Piper asked.

Boaz held up a finger to the blonde and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. His hands busied themselves with the next sandwich order, but he was all too attentive to your every word.

“Oh yeah?” he replied to you. His smile deepened. “Well, that’s convenient. Because I’m craving some of you, baby.”

You gave a breathy chuckle. “Normally I’d take you up on that, but no. I need you. As in, I really need you to do something for me.”

Priestly arched a brow. His brain was already filling up with ideas of how he could best help you. He mentally took an inventory of the “tools” in your nightstand drawer, and which ones he could best use to his advantage when he—

“Uhh, well, I got about one more hour in my shift,” he said, lowering his voice, even as it deepened a notch. “But if Jen covers me, I can be outta here in half the time.”

“Oh my God, good,” you gasped. “I’m in so much fucking pain, you have no idea.” 

Priestly blinked, and any thoughts of kinky fun times came to a screeching halt. Concern took over when he realized that the strain in your voice wasn’t from the sexy kind of need.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

“I’m out of Midol, my uterus is rioting like it’s a Vietnam War protest, and…oh yeah, I need more tampons too,” you said. “But I legitimately cannot move from this couch.”

Priestly couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“Ech, I hear ya. Are we in a Code Green, Code Yellow, or Code Red situation?”

Jen glanced over at him from where she was mopping the floor, and she gave him a questioning look.

What’s wrong? she mouthed.

“Code Red, definitely,” you answered with a sigh.

Priestly grimaced in sympathy. He mouthed back to Jen, Code Red.

She nodded in female understanding, and raised a hand that said, Say no more.

“Okay, yeah,” Priestly replied to you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You released a sigh of relief. “And if you want to throw in a Snickers, I wouldn’t hate it.”

He chuckled at that one.

“You got it,” he said. “I’ll be home in T minus an hour, give or take.”

You groaned. “Can’t you just steal a DeLorean or something?”

“You know, I could, but that would mean I’d be going back further into the past before you even needed to call me, and I’d still probably be making sandwiches since I’ve been working here since damn near 2000 B.C. But you know what, they should really call that movie Back to the Present, since they don’t actually go to the future until—”

“Okay,” you had to laugh, even though it was edged with discomfort. “I’ll see you later.”

At the supermarket, after his shift at Beach City Grill, Priestly had most of the supplies he needed for a successful mission. All he was missing was his old enemy on Aisle 2.

Once again, he faced a wall of tampons. All bright colored boxes and numbers and sizes…

Okay, not Code Green, so not the slender ones that might as well be match sticks. Not Yellow, so no to Regular…ah! Here we are. Super Plus.

AKA: Code Red. Complete with leak guard, no latex. He grabbed the blue box and threw it into his basket of essentials, including no less than three assorted chocolate bars and a pint of Ben & Jerrys. He knew his girl, and you liked your Half-Baked ice cream with chocolate chip cookie dough and brownie pieces.  

He brought over his haul to the checkout line. Sure enough, Gerry, one of the locals, was finally old enough to buy a case of beer by himself. He glanced at the blue box Priestly was taking out onto the conveyor belt and smirked.

“No slender regulars this time?” Gerry remarked.

Priestly’s smile was tight. “No, Gerald. Slenders are for pussies.”

“Literally,” the blonde beanpole snorted. “What, your girlfriend got a heavy flow this month?”

Priestly rolled his eyes, and his mouth pressed in a line. The word flow still kind of grated on him like nails on a chalkboard, but what irked him more was this guy imagining any part of your intimate parts.

“All right, my girl’s flow is none of your business,” he said. “Once you hit puberty and grow your first pubes, you’ll understand.”

Gerry floundered while Priestly continued on to make his purchases. Even the cashier was smiling, trying not to laugh as he silently gave Priestly his props for a burn well made. Priestly shot the guy a nod and a smile before he left with his spoils.

“Honey, I’m hoooome,” Priestly sing-songed.

He stepped through the door with his keys still jangling in his hand. He was trying to balance the big bag of groceries while closing the door to the apartment he shared with you.

Your head perked up from the living room couch, and your hand slowly curled up, beckoning him over. Priestly obliged you. He peered over the side of the couch and smiled at the way you were all curled up under a throw blanket, already in your pajamas, while FRIENDS reruns played on the TV.

“Finally,” you said with a tired smile. But not the kind of finally that just meant you were impatient for the goods he carried. The kind of finally that also meant you were happy to see him.

He laid a comforting hand on your head, leaned down, and pressed a kiss above your brow. You held him there by the collar of his shirt, prompting him to kiss you for real. Your hand moved up his tattooed neck and your nails gave the back of his head a little scratch, careful not to disrupt the blue mohawk.

He reluctantly pulled away from your lips, just enough to try and gauge how you were feeling.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” he asked.

“Like a beach umbrella in a hurricane,” you replied wryly. “You got the stuff?”

Priestly held the grocery bag tucked under his arm like it was a drug deal.

“Oh, I got the stuff, if you got the money,” he said.

You nodded, and your small smile turned mischievous. “I got your money, Big Man.”

With your hand delicately hooked behind his neck and the other gliding up his arm, he didn’t realize he was falling into a trap.

You tugged his arm hard enough to try and get him to fall over the back of the couch.

“Hey!” he yelped. Yet he also laughed while you tried your best to pull him overboard.

He had to toss the bag of groceries to the floor next to you, but he managed to get over and onto the couch without crushing you. He probably smelled like old sandwich and mayonnaise, but you didn’t seem to care. 

You just helped him settle in behind you, with your back to his chest. This was the only way you’d find comfort for your lower back. It had been aching since you woke up this morning.

You grabbed his closest hand and guided it under your overlarge sleep shirt, then under the waistband of your panties. You laid his warm hand flat against your cramping lower belly.

Priestly pressed a kiss behind your ear and tucked his arm underneath your head. He felt the rise and fall of your sigh as you leaned back against him, and his smile softened.

“You’re gonna fall asleep without digging into your treasure trove,” he teased. “I even got your favorite ice cream.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder in interest.

“Half-Baked?” you asked.

“Yep, for extra brownie points. Eh? See what I did there?”

Your body shook with a quiet laugh. You reached your hand back to touch his bearded cheek this time. Your fingers toyed with his many earrings.

“Did you know that you’re my favorite human?” you said. “Like, ever?”

He smiled against your neck. “Could’a sworn I was your third favorite, behind Ben and Jerry.”

“Nope, just you,” you said, snuggling back further into his warmth. “Thank you, baby.”

Priestly realized then that he’d found it.

He’d really, honest to God found the life he didn’t think he’d get, with a woman who didn’t want him to change; who just wanted him to be here.

Though he smirked when you reached for the bag and dug out the pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

You giggled. “Shut up.”

AN: Priestly was such a fun character lol. I rewatched 10 Inch Hero this past week and this was the first thing I thought to write! If you liked this, let me know! (And if you want more Priestly.) 😘

Read the Prequel!

If you liked Code Red, read the start of their story:

▶️ The Miracle Man

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[south-of-heaven]

His girls || Rhea Ripley x Reader x Damian Priest

Summary: Damian is very possessive and likes to mark whats his

A/N: Possessive Damian makes me giggle like a schoolgirl

As you navigate your loving relationship with Rhea and Damian, you've come to appreciate and understand the unique dynamics between the three of you. One aspect that stands out is Damian's possessiveness, which he proudly displays when it comes to his girls.

Whether it's in public or behind closed doors, Damian's possessive nature is evident. He's fiercely protective of you and Rhea, and he takes great pride in claiming you both as his own.

When you're out together, Damian's presence is strong. His arm is often draped around your waist or Rhea's, a subtle yet unmistakable sign of his possession. His touch is possessive yet comforting, a constant reminder that you are under his protective gaze.

At social gatherings or events, Damian's gaze never strays far from you and Rhea. He stands close, keeping a watchful eye on anyone who dares to approach, silently warning them of his territorial nature. It's as if he has an invisible force field, ensuring that no one encroaches on what is rightfully his.

In private, Damian's possessiveness takes on a different form. He craves physical and emotional intimacy, always wanting to be close to you and Rhea. He showers you with affectionate touches, leaving no doubt that you are his cherished possessions.

He revels in the act of claiming, gently marking your skin with possessive kisses and leaving love bites as reminders of his ownership. His touch is both passionate and tender, a reflection of the depth of his devotion.

While his possessiveness can be intense at times, you find comfort in it. It serves as a constant reassurance that you and Rhea are cherished, protected, and loved deeply by Damian. His possessiveness is not born out of insecurity, but rather from a place of profound love and desire to keep you both safe.

And in return, you and Rhea embrace his possessiveness, understanding that it is an integral part of who Damian is. You take solace in the knowledge that you belong to him and he belongs to you, fostering a sense of security and stability within your triad.

As the three of you navigate the intricacies of your relationship, you find that Damian's possessiveness adds an undeniable layer of passion and devotion. It reminds you that love is not just about the gentleness and affectionate moments, but also about the fiery desire to protect and claim what is precious to you.

In the embrace of Damian's possessiveness, you find a sense of belonging and a love that is unwavering and all-encompassing. And together, you continue to nurture the bonds of your triad, creating a sanctuary of love, passion, and unbreakable devotion.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  when broken is easily fixed

SUMMARY : priestly broke up with tish (yes!) uh, i mean… you watch him be pathetic and sad with his big wet green eyes.

PAIRING : boaz priestly x fem!reader (implied Latina)

CHARACTERS : tish (mentioned)

WARNINGS/TAGS : jealousy, breakups, fluff, tiny angst, innuendos, obliviousness x2

WORD COUNT : 2.7k

A/N : SURPRISE YALL, I’m back, heheheh. title from silverstein’s song. this fills the square “I’m having what you’d call a rough day” on my @jacklesversebingo card. lmao, this was nice to jump back into writing. I secretly like teaching y’all physics. 

You remember the day Priestly showed up at the market in a disappointingly normal state. 

No piercings, no colourful hair, no beard, no eyeliner. Just plain old California clothes, nearly looking Christian with his neat hair, and composed manners.

The only things that reassured you that Priestly was still Priestly after all, were the tattoos that peeked from outside the collar of a white dress shirt and the tiny holes in his skin where his piercings once belonged.

It was confusing at first, but he looked happy. Brighter.

You thought his parents were in town. Or that he became religious after all. Or that he joined a cult. 

You teased him at first. He’d just give you this dreamy look and never said anything to ease your curiosity about his current state. He’d be out the door in a hurry, with a tiny bit of that Priestly swagger that told you he was definitely not brainwashed by a cult.

But the reason for the sudden change in him soon became clear. 

One day, he walked into the store to buy groceries and other necessities with Tish. Hand in hand, the two of them. All giggles and shoves and smiles. The honeymoon phase. She’d kiss him on his cheeks, take his chin in her hand and press herself against him in an unnecessary manner to tell him something, and he’d look stupid, like he couldn’t believe she was there giving him affection. 

Your stomach dropped at the sight of them. 

You’d never felt the way you did before. 

Yeah, there was a cringey-ness and aversion you always had  for PDA and romance that you’d noticed in yourself for years, but it never bothered you like it did now. From watching Priestly and Tish be a couple.

But it also didn’t take you long to realise why it bothered you so much more. Why it was so much harder to ignore than if it were any other couple doing it. Why you felt rejected became clear.

You had feelings for Priestly.

What a dumb way to find that out. 

Excuse the fuck out of yourself if you were too focused on your university courses and your job and your future and your personal life… to realise that you really actually liked him. Romantically.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself and pretend that you didn’t care at all when you were alone. You weren’t  going to lie to yourself about the sting you felt. Or push away the feelings of jealousy and push down how upset you were and the other, million emotions you felt as you watched them go about their lives as a couple for months. 

You never wanted to quit more badly than you did then, just to avoid having to see them get closer, clingier, more affectionate, serious. But it was the only way you could afford living in your dorm, to have enough to pay your classes, and afford your supplies and books... 

You sucked it up and pretended that nothing was wrong. Like you didn’t even care about him. Like you never did. 

It never really got easier, the only thing that became easy was pretending. 

You blamed yourself for waiting too long. That’s what haunted you. If you’d just been braver. If you’d been more honest with yourself and him. If you’d had the courage to say what you felt. If… if…

It was torture.

The high California-in-the-summertime temperatures made you think that you were in Hell, but time passed and you accepted that your chance with him had passed. You told yourself to move on and be happy. For the most part, as long as you ignored them, it was easy to be happy again, to live your life and do whatever your wildest friend was doing to enjoy her summer. 

But that happiness you’d seen in Priestly was gone by the time the fall semester came around. It took six long, horrible months for that happiness in him to fade away. 

It didn’t last. Just like the spring and the summer.

Until one day you didn’t see her with him. And the next day he was alone again. And the next week; alone. And the week after that, too. 

No Tish. 

Just mopey, wet-eyed Priestley. 

His stubble grew, his eyeliner returned—slightly smeared from tears. 

No more Banana Republic, Tommy Hillfigure, or Calvin Klein. Just those ridiculous shirts that always made you smile.

He entered the store today again after a week. 

The shop's bell rang and you looked up out of habit, and watched him with his gorgeous green eyes cast downward to the slightly dusty floor you were trying to sweep. God, you’d guess it was more of a depressing, someone’s-dead type of chime than a merry one—from the state of him.

His hair was a mess and slightly longer, it was not brushed or styled neatly. Like he woke up from a nap after breakfast and decided to go to the store because he remembered something he forgot before his nap. 

You felt bad… at first. 

His cheeks were pink and his eyes were red-rimmed and glassy from tears. He had darkened bags under his eyes. But as he moped around and you avoided being noticed by him out of awkwardness, you caught a glimpse of his shirt, which amused you: Hang in there, it gets worse, with a little thumbs up, too. 

He came completely in black, too. 

It was unavoidably funny. But you stifled your snort as you continued to sweep quietly, until eventually, you got lost in thought again. Your head filled with your to-do list before entering your final semester. 

But you eventually found yourself in the same aisle as him. You swept the trash up into the dustpan as you watched him try to hold bread, bananas, napkins, and toilet paper in one arm while trying to take out a gallon of milk from the fridge.

You saw what would happen from a mile away and quickly released the broom and left the dustpan where it was to help him. Before you could actually get to him, the napkins toppled out of his hold and he mistakenly released the milk to grab it which caused the gallon to burst open when it fell to the floor like a ripe melon in the sun. 

You gasped when the milk splattered on you, but you didn’t actually mind at all. Priestly, on the other hand, sighed heavily again, completely giving up. 

He finally looked at you when you reached for the napkins he dropped and you smiled warily at him, hoping it appeared more reassuring than pitiful. You handed him the napkins and he murmured an apology, taking them from you. 

“They say when you drop your food, it's because someone craved it,” you tried to make light of the situation but he didn’t even notice. He gently placed everything down on top of the shelf behind him with a deep sigh.

“I’m so sorry,” he frowned at the large white puddle, “I’m having what you’d call a rough day.” You huffed a soft laugh which made him raise a brow at you. 

“Day? You’ve been mopey and pathetic for weeks,” you teased playfully, but he remained quiet. You figured you’d offended him or hurt his feelings because he sniffled and looked down at his hands. 

Your face softened.

“I’ll pay for that.” He pointed to the spilt milk and broken gallon.

“It’s fine,” you reassured him. “Let me clean this up. I’ll help you when I finish.” You turned around to pick up some napkins you kept behind the counter and he made a sound of protest. 

He followed you, you heard him walking behind you quickly. “I made this mess. I should clean it. Besides, it’s almost your lunch break,” he tried to stop you. You laughed softly and shook your head as you laid yourself over the counter to grab the napkins from underneath the counter, your feet dangled embarrassingly above the floor.

“Hey, it’s no trouble,” you dismissed, smiling triumphantly to yourself when you got up with the napkins. “Go be a customer and bring your stuff… take two trips this time. There’s no one else here.” You snatched the napkins away from him when he tried to take them from you. 

He smiled a little. 

It made you smile more earnestly. 

“Okay… Fine…” he gave in hesitantly and followed you as you walked towards the mess he made. He picked up the stuff he left on the shelf and watched you squat down and lay some napkins over the puddle. The paper soaked the milk up and he slowly walked to the counter then returned as you finished up. 

He stood there awkwardly at first. Still just watching you clean up and then you got up and smiled at him sweetly. He smiled back at you gently and your heart sped up the way it always did when he looked at you. Your stomach clenched happily, but you frowned and quickly stepped away from him to throw the wet paper towels away along with the gallon that had contained the milk. 

“I’m really sorry,” he apologised again when you returned. 

“Priestly, it’s fine, accidents happen,” you chuckled to convince him and eyed the new gallon of milk. “You ready?” You wiped your hands on your jeans despite still feeling icky. 

“Yeah,” he answered quietly, then looked around at the unusually empty store. “You want me to finish sweeping for you? Or maybe… Do you wanna wash your hands? You look uncomfortable. I can wait,” he rambled.

You laughed at him, this was all too much for you so “early” in the morning. He instantly shut up and became flustered. His free hand flew up to the back of his neck and he laughed awkwardly. 

“Well, if it matters so much to you, put the Closed sign on while I throw the stuff in the dustpan away and wash my hands. I’ll meet you at the counter in five.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said automatically. 

You rolled your eyes at the name, but walked away wordlessly to finish up. You actually were pretty hungry.

When you returned, Preistly had his hands in his trouser’s pockets, he was chewing on his lip, and his cheeks were red from embarrassment. 

“What’s that thing you said earlier about dropping food?” He asked, trying to alleviate the thick tension that hung in the air around the two of you. You smiled as you scanned the items he needed. 

“Oh, nothing,” you shrugged, “just a saying.” 

He was quiet for a moment and then you looked up at him. He was already looking at you and your face instantly started to get warm again. You looked away as casually as you could to finish scanning the remaining items and neatly placing them inside a plastic bag. 

“It was funny.”

“Ha, I guess…” you shrugged awkwardly and told him the price of his groceries. 

“Right…” he took out random, balled up dollar bills from his back pocket despite having a wallet with enough space. You smiled curiously and took the money from him. 

God, hurry and leave, you prayed internally as you placed his money in the cash register and took out his change. You dropped three quarters and a nickel into his hand when you began hearing the soft sound of rain hitting the windows and the concrete outside, and the delightful aroma of petrichor sneaking through the vents into the store.

“Fuck,” Priestly muttered, his fingertips grazed your palm and your body lit up like the second the temperature of the universe hit one billion Kelvin after the Big Bang, finally allowing neutrons and protons to form atomic nuclei as they hit and stuck to each other. “The worst day ever.”

You snapped out of your daze, disappointed, but not surprised at his obliviousness. 

“I could give you a ride,” you offered with a shrug, taking your bag from inside the bottom drawer as he took his bag of groceries.

“I keep wasting your time…” he trailed off, but he did not decline your offer. 

“That’s fine. Where do you live?” You made your way around the counter and walked past him to stand at the door and watch the rain slowly come heavier.

“You’re a stranger,” he joked, and you turned to roll your eyes at him. “What? You could secretly be a Mankiller.” You opened the door with a sarcastic laugh and squirmed as rain hit your face.

“Please, look at me,” you scoffed playfully, locking the door to the store once Priestly stepped outside with you. 

“I am,” he said gently. 

You looked up at him with your brows knitted in confusion. “Whatever. My car’s over here,” you brushed him off and quickly led him to your car.

You both sighed once you were safely inside the freshly cleaned car. He laughed to himself as he looked around inquisitively, but you didn't question him. You turned your car on instead to pull out of the driveway and asked him again where he lived as a Britney Spears song played on the radio. This time he finally answered your question seriously.

The conversation was light and you kept asking him about the sandwich shop he worked at and about his friends to avoid talking about yourself or his break up. It was basically small talk, bleh. The conversation was superficial because you didn’t want to get close to him, not now, not when he was freshly broken up and still clearly hurting. 

He ran his hand through his hair once you parked outside his house, somehow he managed to make it look tame. He looked at the time and you waited patiently for him to get out so you could leg it and cry to your friend over the phone about how you were so not over him. 

“Stay,” he proposed suddenly when he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I can make you a sandwich, I’m really good at that.” You shook your head at first and racked your brain for some excuse to get away. “Whatever you want, I’ll make it for you, I’ve even got some soda in the fridge. Please, I feel really bad.” You chuckled softly at him and the pleading eyes he gave you. They looked much wider and greener. 

“Fine,” you gave in, “I’m really hungry, so… I guess I could stay for a bit.” He lit up slightly and started to get out of the car before you managed to turn it off. But you caught up with him as he kicked the welcome mat to the side to retrieve his house’s key. 

“You want a sub?” He asked, you bit your tongue to stop yourself from making a joke out of that and nodded as you entered his messy house. Oh well, he’s been going through a breakup. 

“Oh, God, I forgot it’s a mess,” he apologised when he looked at the star of everything around him. “Close your eyes, pretend you don’t see it,” he pleaded jokingly. 

“As long as I don’t step in something squishy, we’re all good,” you reassured him with a small laugh. You followed him to the kitchen and figured he must be going through the not-eating breakup rather than the eating-my-feelings breakup.

“How big do you want it?” He asked you, setting the bag down on the counter and going to wash his hands.

“How much do you think I can take?” You asked before you could actually filter it out of your mind. He quickly looked at you, amused and intrigued while he dried his hands with a clean towel from inside his cabinet. “Kidding, how big is it?” He laughed loudly at your question which made you get more flustered, but he still gave you a measurement with his hands. “Half of that,” you tried to ignore his face and sat down before your knees gave out from embarrassment. 

“If you can only take half of that, I don’t think you could handle me.” 

Your mouth fell open. You were sure you stopped breathing for a few moments when your heart stuttered and your stomach lurched at the thought.  

This time, you blinked at him in surprise, but your eyes stayed wide, and you felt yourself turn hotter before you both bursted out laughing. 

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[nesnejwritings]

I haven’t even seen the entirety of Ten Inch Hero but I’ve seen enough to know that Priestly was perfect and beautiful the way he was and I have officially beef with the writers for making him change for Tish.

[violentdelightsproductions]

Jensen Ackles Appreciation Week 2023!

Feb 23: TV show & movie roles

Our personal Top 5 ♥

Dean Winchester - Supernatural

Alec McDowell (X5-494)- Dark Angel

Soldier Boy - The Boys

Tom Hanniger - My Bloody Valentine 3D

Priestly - Ten Inch Hero

[justpadaleckisackles]

Ten Inch Hero (2007)-Jensen & Danneel Ackles

[deanwinchesterswitch]

Photo Source: (x, x)

We have a tiny obsession with Jensen Ackles and the characters he portrays!

If you do too, go check out @jacklesversebingo for some amazing fics and lovely aesthetics.

Be sure to spread the love by commenting and reblogging.💚

[mirrorpriest]

pantalone x male reader

CW: yandere/dark themes, doesn't really get into specifics its just a dark fic to explore the concept of being a fatui agent. i feel like pantalone is more likely to own someone than be 'fond' of them.

you burrow down into your uniform coat, willing him to glaze completely over you. the mask on your face only slightly obscures your pinched expression, lips turned into a sharp frown. yet his eyes still find you, pluck you out from the line of Fatui recruits, pin you like a butterfly to corkboard. if only you could go back in time and stop this before it all started. Celestia has long forsaken this world, though, and no one will hear your prayers.

it wasn't always like this. you used to be shaken but ready, like any other young recruit. not wanting death but willing if that's what it takes. living in Snezhnaya there are very few options for a young man without skills or without prospects. join the military or let your family starve. hardly a choice.

then you were assigned to Pantalone, ninth of the Harbingers. the one obscured by polite smiles and civil etiquette. you considered yourself lucky to not fall under the supervision of Harbingers like Capitano or, even more unfortunate, Il Dottore. Pantalone, as menacing as he seemed, was known to be a gentleman. a careful disguise for his immorality, sure, but not wantonly cruel.

which is why you tried your best to follow his orders to the letter. all you had to do was keep your head down and follow his word, then, perhaps, you could pass by unnoticed within the Fatui. where others failed, you gave your all to succeed. never returning unless you had fulfilled your duties. under the Tsaritsa, it is better to die following orders than to return a failure. you gave every inch of your body to battle so you could survive. all you wanted was to survive. live another day to hopefully make enough money for your family, as any dutiful son should.

perhaps that was always your biggest downfall. too steadfast, too responsible. you remember the day you first realized your mistake. the way your pressed uniform felt too stiff and too stifling in the warm air of the parlor, standing at Pantalone's side as he received a mission report from Irina: a stout, sturdy Fatui agent, strong muscles hidden by her thick coat. the dismay was clear not just from her expression but from the way her shoulders slouched, body held stiff as stone. Pantalone let her stand, stew, in that silence before him as he sipped on his drink, an expensive aged wine from Mondstadt worth more than your entire month's pay.

"Mikhail," Pantalone ignores Irina completely to glance over at the Fatui agent by the door, a man you know only in passing. a man with assignments that make your stomach churn. The Regrator wears that civil, polite smile, "I leave this agent's recompense to you. don't disappoint me."

you stand firm at Pantalone's side, even as Irina stutters out protests and promises to do better. you shove down the nausea boiling in your gut. what she did wrong has nothing to do with you. when Pantalone sighs you almost leap out of your own skin, nerves suddenly on edge and body willing you to flee.

"Everyday I have to rectify another agent's damage. This is why you're my favorite." Pantalone's tone is wistful, but his expression is as unapproachable as ever. it takes you a moment to realize it's the first time he's spoken to you if it wasn't to designate a mission. your throat is dry as he sets his drink down, standing suddenly. his heavy coat drapes his figure, casting his body into a singular wall before you. between you and the parlor's doors. you couldn't run even if you wanted to.

his hands are careful, almost gentle, as he fusses over your uniform jacket. you stand unflinching under his ministrations. in retrospect, it was a test. not a means to touch you or be close to you. he was testing your loyalty, your ability to grit your teeth and bear with the discomfort. you must have done something horribly wrong, in the end, to have his focused gaze on you and that smile open to show blinding teeth.

"Pack your things, agent. I will be making a trip to Mondstadt in just a few hours."

it's a horrible thing, to be owned. it's more horrible to be under the care of a man who sees people as objects to possess. if you had known being under Pantalone's guidance meant being an extension of his person, perhaps you would have been happy to volunteer as one of the Second Harbinger's test subjects.

even on far away missions, you feel his severe eyes upon you still. flat, white teeth snapping at your flesh. you have no choice, have never had a choice, but to return to his side.

[crimsoncosmicdust]

Je vends mon gigantesque poster de Jensen Ackles (taille 60,94x91,44cm).

Après 11 ans passés à illuminer ma chambre chez mes parents, il veut désormais briller dans VOTRE chambre/salon/cuisine/salle de bains/WC...

Son sourire Colgate ne manquera jamais de vous mettre de bonne humeur.

Apportez Jensen Ackles chez vous dès aujourd'hui !

-------

Selling my gigantic Jensen Ackles poster (size 24x32 inches).

After 11 years spent illuminating my room at my parents' home, he now wants to shine in YOUR bedroom/living room/kitchen/bathroom...

His toothpaste-ad-worthy smile will never fail to put you in a good mood.

Bring Jensen Ackles to your home today!

Vinted :

https://www.vinted.fr/items/5042391930-grand-poster-de-jensen-ackles

Le Bon Coin :

https://www.leboncoin.fr/ad/decoration/2847863591

Ebay :

https://www.ebay.fr/itm/166983615999?mkcid=16&mkevt=1&mkrid=709-127639-2357-0&ssspo=Bav3BqYWR5W&sssrc=4429486&ssuid=Bav3BqYWR5W&var=&widget_ver=artemis&media=COPY

[jacklesversebingo]

Sign-up Form Open

The sign-up form is now open.

Late sign-ups will be accepted through February 14, 2024. Be sure to read the Guidelines/Rules and the FAQs before signing up.

The Bingo is open to all creatives. Discord is required.

Round One of the Bingo ends September 1, 2024. Master Lists are due by September 15, 2024.

As we are at the midpoint of the Bingo, 3 x 3 cards will be the only size available for new participants. However, if you complete your card, there is an option to request another. Once you receive your card, you will have two weeks to request square changes.

If you have not received your card within three days of signing up, please DM me on the @jacklesversebingo blog.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Hello my lovelies!! ❤️ Above is my SECOND @jacklesversebingo card!

*does a happy dance*

I'm going to circulate it here for a little while because I'd like to get as many requests for this card as possible.

Fluff, angst, smut, or anything in between are all welcome for requests. Feel free to request anonymously or not. We're in the holiday season, so I'm happy to write something holiday related. 😊 But it doesn't have to be - let your imagination fly. ❤️

If you're not familiar with me, I write for Dean, Jensen, Beau, and Soldier Boy/Ben. I'd be willing to try and write for Alec (Dark Angel) and Priestly (Ten Inch Hero) but, request those characters at your own risk as I've never written for them before. 😁

So, send me an ask, DM me, or just reply to this post. Looking forward to reading and writing some requests! ❤️

Edit: All nine squares have been claimed! 🙌❤️

[zepskies]

The Miracle Man

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x F. Reader

Summary: The first time you met Priestly was both the worst and best night of your life. He gave you a Miracle.

AN: Here’s the prequel to Code Red! (But this can also be read as stand alone.) I hope you enjoy. And just a note, remember this was circa 2007, still the era of flip phones and iPods, despite the advent of the iPhone.

Word Count: 3,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for mature talk. A kind of meet cute, insecurities, angst, breakups, hurt/comfort, sandwiches, fluff and feels.

He was a lone ranger in the Wild West. His weapon of choice?

A dirty mop.

Priestly bopped his head to the music playing from his earbuds. His iPod was tucked in his right jean pocket while he speared the mop across the floor of the sandwich shop. It was three minutes to closing time on a Saturday night, and it was his turn to clean up and lock up.

He was looking forward to getting home, taking a shower, and diving face-first into his bed. But first, he just needed to kill three minutes.

Come on, come on, come oooon, he sang in his mind as the hands on his watch ticked on. While glancing down at said watch, he remembered it had been a gift from Tish for his birthday…

Three months ago. When they were still together.

Priestly heaved a sigh. What were you supposed to do with gifts from your ex that you actually liked? The gifts that made it into your everyday life, not just because they were from the person you thought you loved, but because it was actually hella practical and a nice accessory to keep on your person?

It’s just a damn watch. Don’t make it a big deal, he reminded himself. What was he supposed to do, have a ritual burning of everything Tish had ever touched?

That would take all damn night. And he definitely drew a line at his dick.

“Hello?”

The front door of the shop opened, the little bell Trucker installed chiming with too much cheer and startling Priestly out of his thoughts.

“We’re closed,” he said. But that was before he looked up, and had to pause in his mopping.

You were standing there, holding yourself in the open doorway with the cold breeze hitting your back. You were wearing a red cocktail dress and the highest black heels he’d ever seen, with your styled hair falling around your shoulders.

You were entirely too beautiful to be in this old sandwich shop, he thought. It had Priestly swallowing, frozen in time.

“Really? The sign says 10,” you pointed out. There was a level of desperation in your eyes. “Please, you’re the only place with the lights still on and I’ve been all up and down the block.” 

Blinking out of his idiotic state, Priestly looked down at his watch again. It was exactly 9:59 p.m.

Well, damn. Got me on a technicality.

He held in a sigh.

“Okay, come on in,” he waved you over. Setting down his mop, he rounded the counter and went to man the register. He gave you a minute to peruse the menu. He noted that aside from your stunning attire, you had a cell phone in your hand that clearly couldn’t fit in that little purse hanging off your shoulder, bumping along your hip.

He couldn’t help but visually trace the curves of your hips and waist, back up to the sweetheart neckline of the dress, the deeper shade of your lipstick and up to your face.

But then he felt bad for staring, so he looked up heavenward before you caught him.

Meanwhile, your eyes drifted from the menu and dipped to his chest for a moment.

“Too bad I’m not gay,” you said.

What? Priestly frowned in confusion. But following your gaze, he realized you were staring at his yellow shirt, which read in big, 70s-style letters: Be Gay & Proud, Get a Free Drink.

His lips twitched at a grin, and he looked up at you. “D’you know what you want?”

You had a smile starting to play on your lips as well. You went back to considering your choices.

“Not sure, but I’m starving. What do you recommend?” you asked.

Priestly’s lips puckered as he considered the menu he knew by heart.

“Well, if you wanna go classic, I’d do a Spicy Italian on white bread. If you wanna be adventurous, we just added the Jalapeño Buffalo Chicken Club," he said. "But, if you wanna get crazy awesome, I can put on some Zeppelin and make you something special of my own design.”

He colored that last option with a gesture of his hand, a flourish, if you will. You tilted your head at him and smiled.

“Okay. Surprise me, Sandwich Man.”

Priestly snorted while he washed his hands again. “Sounds like the lamest superhero ever.”

“With his death-defying salami summoning powers,” you quipped, with a giggle that had him smiling as well.

“Nice alliteration,” he said. And he made a show of tying his apron back on. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Your late-night hoagie is safe with me.”

You tried to stifle another laugh while he worked his magic. From bread to meats and cheeses and toppings, Priestly was a master of his craft. He had that 12” hero wrapped and sliding across the counter towards you in record time.

“I call this the ‘Miracle,’” he winked. “You’ll see why. But that’ll be $10 even.”

You nodded and turned to the purse on your hip. You opened up the little velvety thing, but your face fell when all you found was your keys, not your credit card.

“No.” Your heart dropped into your stomach. You opened your purse wider and flipped through the satin insides, but you saw that it was empty. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I know I had my wallet in here…”

And then it dawned on you.

“That fucking asshole,” you growled.

Priestly’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

Your head snapped up to his. “I had a different purse picked out for tonight. You know, one that actually had my wallet in it? But my know-it-all boyfriend had the nerve to say, ‘That one’s too shiny, looks kinda cheap. This is a restaurant at the Ritz-Carlton, not a hooker hangout.’ Can you believe that?”

Priestly blinked in confusion, but he realized that in your purse shuffling, you had no way to pay for this amazing sandwich he’d just concocted.

And now, you actually had the beginnings of frustrated tears in your eyes as you took in a shuddering breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I can’t—I can’t pay for this. I don’t have my wallet… Hold on, let me see if he’ll…”

You held up a finger and started dialing manically on your phone. You held it up to your ear and waited. Your tears sprang forth anew when the line just kept ringing until it sent you to voicemail. 

“Figures,” you scoffed. “The one time I actually need this douchebag to answer, he ignores me!”

You slammed the phone down on the counter and covered your face with your hand as you sniffled. Priestly softened with sympathy. You seemed to be having a harder night than he thought.

He slid the sandwich your way, making you raise your head.

“It’s okay. This one’s on the house,” he said. “Looks like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Your watery eyes met his. “Really? You don’t have to…”

“No worries,” he replied, giving you a bit of charm in his grin. “I’ll even throw in a soda. Lady’s choice.”

Your lower lip trembled, but you were able to smile. With a quiet thank you, you wiped under your eyes carefully so your mascara wouldn’t run. Then you grabbed a Coke from the machine along with your sandwich from the counter.

“Do you mind if I eat here?” you asked, gesturing at one of the tables. “I promise I won’t leave a mess. I know you’re trying to close up.”

Priestly waved a dismissive hand. “Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

He went around the counter to take up his mop and continue where he left off in the cleaning process. But he couldn’t help but eye you every now and then. Curiosity was starting to eat him alive.

Had your boyfriend just dumped you here? Had you gone off alone? Somehow, he couldn’t see the first option happening. If you were his girlfriend, he would do his best not to let you walk away angry at him, let alone this late at night, without any money or even your ID.

“Are you coming from a party or something?” he found himself asking. You looked up from your second bite of the sandwich. You’d looked to have been truly enjoying it, uttering a moan that’d caught his attention.

“No,” you chuckled humorlessly around a mouthful of bread. “I was supposed to meet his parents. His rich, very bougie, hyper-critical parents. Somehow it didn’t occur to me that he was just like them.”

Priestly paused and leaned on his mop. He was hesitant, not wanting to disturb you while you were eating, but he was too damn hooked.

“So…what happened?” he asked. You scoffed and took another massive bite of your sandwich.

“Okay, you want to hear this? Fine,” you began. “So, I’m a stress eater by nature. Let’s just start with that.”

“Who isn’t?” Priestly supplied. Pursing your lips, you raised a black olive at him in a thank you gesture.

“But when I tell you I spent three months depriving myself to fit into this dress. No carbs, cheese, chocolate, or happiness.”

He grimaced. “That’s no way to live.”

“Exactly!” you concurred. “But I did all that so my boyfriend would have nothing to say when I finally met his parents for this dinner—to celebrate him graduating from med school.”

Priestly found himself dimming inside. Not only were you spoken for, but you were with a future doctor, no less. The only title Priestly had to his name was Sandwich Man.

“It started with the purse thing when he picked me up. Then when we get there, he keeps telling me how stuffy his dad is and how judge-y and critical his mom can be and how I’m a reflection on him,” you mocked in an impression of his voice.

“Then I find myself second-guessing every word that might come out of my mouth, and I’m too nervous to even eat the $60 plate of Chilean sea bass in front of me, and not to mention, there’s a glass of wine in my hand. I don’t even like wine!”

By now, it was all Priestly could do to keep up with your verbal spitfire. You were also gesticulating wildly with your sandwich the more worked up you got.

“I mean, I’m saying things I don’t say, and suddenly I realize that I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots for this man, I don’t even recognize myself,” you confessed. Your eyes lit up with a gleam of clarity. Your hands lowered down to the table, and after a beat, you continued eating.

“But then my boyfriend of over a year turns to me and says, ‘Why are you being so weird and frigid?’” you said. You met Priestly’s eyes. “I just, I got so mad. I wanted to choke him out with my napkin, you know?”

He bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

“So instead of violence, I grabbed the glass of pinot noir, or chardon-perignon-whatever-the-fuck, and I poured it in his lap,” you concluded. “Then I walked out. And I ignored his calls. And I kept walking. Then a nice guy made me a sandwich.”

Priestly had to smile at that. He knew there was a Ritz-Carlton in the area, but that had to be almost a mile down the street. You’d walked a long way in those crazy-ass heels.

He propped his mop against a nearby table and sat down across from you. He shook his head in wonderment. And inside, your words kind of rattled him.

I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots, I don’t even recognize myself.

“You know, sometimes I really, really wish I was gay,” you said, gesturing at his shirt.

“O-Oh…really?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered. “I’m a quick study. I could learn to eat pussy.”

If he had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out. He mentally fumbled for a moment before he could articulate a response.

“Well, I don’t doubt you, but it can be an acquired taste. Though I happen to like it,” he replied, grinning mostly to himself. He didn’t even think about how it might come out though.

As soon as he realized what he was saying to a perfect stranger, his eyes widened and met yours.

"Uh, sorry," he said.

But you just chortled in amusement. Your blush intensified though, along with your smile as you took a sip of your soda.

“You’re uh…you’re pretty awesome,” he said. And he meant that.

You blinked in surprise. Your lips twitched upwards, a blush rosy in your cheeks.

“Yeah?” you asked. His smile deepened.

“Yeah,” he replied. “And for the record, I know I just met you, but…I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Your face softened with a certain shyness, but you smiled at him through your lashes.

“Well, I appreciate that…” you trailed, realizing you didn’t yet know his name.

“Priestly,” he offered, along with his hand across the table. You slipped your smaller hand in his and gave him your name.

Though you quirked a brow at him. “Priestly? That’s your first name?”

Now it was his turn to get a little embarrassed.

“Uh, no,” he said, his gaze falling from yours. He scratched the back of his head, under the blue mohawk.

“Oh. What is it, then?” you asked.

“You don’t want to know,” he chuckled wryly.

“I think I do, or I wouldn’t be asking,” you countered. Your smile was playful though. Disarming, even.

“It’s um, it’s Boaz,” he admitted. You tilted your head, as if swirling the name around in your head. But you didn’t say it was weird, or stupid, or too biblical. You just smiled.

“Boaz Priestly. Interesting,” you nodded. Then you wrapped up your garbage, having eaten all of your sandwich. You made sure to collect every crumb, even though he’d told you not to worry about the mess. You got up to take it to the trashcan near the door.

“How’re you getting home?” he asked.

You bit your lip. The anxiety in your eyes told him you’d been pondering that same question. You let out a deep breath.

“I guess I’ll have to walk back to the hotel, try to get a ride from my b…my ex-boyfriend. Gotta get used to saying that,” you said. “I promise I’ll pay you back for the sandwich.”

“Didn’t I tell you it was on me? Don’t worry about that,” said Priestly. “But I’ll tell you what, let me give you a ride.”

You shook your head. “Oh, thank you, but we just met, and I—”

Just then, Priestly realized how his offer sounded. He didn’t want to creep you out.

“Ah, or I can get you a cab,” he said. “I doubt you want to see that guy again tonight, do you?”

You bit your lip, smudging some of the scarlet red lipstick there. It distracted him for a moment, but he returned his gaze to your eyes.

You sighed. As much as you didn’t want to impose again, you let Priestly call you a cab. He paid for it in advance after you gave the cabbie your address. Before you got in the car, you turned to Priestly and touched his arm.

“Thank you,” you said. “I promise, I’ll come tomorrow and pay you back.”

He smiled. “You can try.”

He earned your sweet smile back, and he watched you get into the cab. He tried not to raise his hopes up, but he really did hope he’d see you tomorrow.

And yet, he should’ve known it was too good to be true.

“Maybe she got caught up at work or something,” Jen tried to console him the next day at closing, after you didn’t show up.

“It’s Sunday,” he pointed out grumpily. He continued to wipe down Table 4 of some nasty residue of mayo and pickled radish.

“You don’t know what kind of job she has,” Piper interjected. She was making a tuna salad sub on wheat for the last customer, which she then passed on to Tish at the register. “Maybe she’s in retail, or she’s in the restaurant business too—or hey, a lifeguard! This is a beach town after all.”

“Or maybe, she just played you into getting free food and a ride home,” Tish suggested, with her usual brand of cutting sarcasm. It just tended to cut a bit deeper these days, whenever it was leveled at Priestly.

The post-breakup thing had been tense and awkward for everyone, and it still hadn’t normalized just yet in their little sandwich-making ecosystem. Jen shot her friend a look though, one that told her she was being bitchy.

The problem was, she’d only voiced what Priestly was thinking anyway, deep down.

“Amazing, serendipitous things don’t happen to me, Piper,” he said. “Not anymore.” 

He continued cleaning.

Three weeks later, it happened on a Friday afternoon.

It was one of their busiest times of the week. Tish was at the register as usual, Jen was sorting through the inventory and bussing tables, and Priestly was making hero after hero like a fiend, alongside Piper. He was definitely living up to his name of Sandwich Man.

He was still able to recognize your voice near the register.

“One 12” Miracle, please,” you requested.

“Um…we don’t have that on the menu,” Tish replied. But Priestly looked over with a grin. He met your gaze, and found you smiling back at him.

Tish followed the exchange with suspicion.

“One Miracle, coming up!” Priestly called out.

He had the order ready within minutes, but he was painstaking about it, not an olive out of place. He wrapped it up nicely and walked it over to the register himself, placing it in front of you on the counter.

“Well, hi there,” he greeted.

A familiar blush spread across your face, just as endearing as he remembered. The only thing different about you so far was your clothes. No longer dressed to the nines, you were more casual in your jeans, ankle boots, and V-necked top.

In every other way, you were the same. It might’ve been making his heart trip up.

“Hi,” you said. “Got a minute, Miracle Man?”

Priestly ducked his head, hiding a more bashful smile. Before he could respond, Tish interrupted, “That’ll be $10.”

You nodded and handed her a $50 bill. She looked at you in confusion.

“The rest is a tip, for the hero makers,” you explained, glancing at both Priestly and Piper. He gave you an incredulous smile.

You little minx, he thought. He couldn’t say no if you were tipping Piper too.

But he did ask Jen to help fill in for him while he made his way around the counter to go to you. Tish just watched the scene unfold with a silent frown, like she was trying to make sense of what was happening. She always thought she’d be the first one to move on.

“Let’s talk outside. Little more privacy from the peanut gallery,” Priestly said to you, tossing a knowing glance over his shoulder. You spotted all the employees now watching you and Priestly closely.

You became a touch more shy as he led you out of the shop with a hand resting on the small of your back. You slipped your sandwich into a larger purse than last time. Then you looked up at him with apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back here,” you said. “It got a bit…ugly, after that night.”

Priestly’s brows furrowed in concern. “Ugly?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assured him. “Lots of shouting and empty threats, then half-assed apologies. But I’m done with all that.”

Priestly considered that with a nod. “Well, good. I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”

You stared up at his face, and you thought he really seemed to mean that. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach, not three weeks after breaking up from a year-long relationship. Even so, the night you walked out of this shop, you felt free. Like you could breathe again.

You felt like you.

So now, you leaned up and kissed Priestly on the cheek.

His eyes widened a fraction as he stared down at you. You smiled and grasped his hand.

“Would you maybe want to…ask me out sometime?” you asked. A nervous giggle escaped you, making him smile.

“Y-Yeah, I would. If you’re sure you want me to,” he replied. In the past, maybe he would’ve let his excitement get the best of him. He’d be trying to jump at this chance. Experience had taught him not to hope too hard though. Sometimes, getting what you wished for backfired in your face.

You squeezed his hand, earning his attention.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked. Your smile became teasing before you used his words against him. “From what I’ve seen so far, you’re pretty awesome. But mostly pretty.”

He had to laugh at that. Pretty was not something he’d ever been called in life. Weird, freak, try-hard goth—that was all familiar territory. His tattoos and piercings tended to bring that out in people.

But he gathered some courage and squeezed your hand back.

“Well, you’re beautiful,” he said, thumbing at your chin. His eyes met yours and got lost there for a moment. “Uh, really beautiful.”

You blushed further and bit your lower lip out of habit. It drew his gaze, and he gained a little more courage. He tilted your chin upwards, so he could find those lips easier in a kiss. Your fingers curled in the front of his shirt and brought him closer. His hand found your cheek as he angled deeper into the kiss.

Despite the chill on the air, the California sun was warm and beating down on you both.

It was the perfect day for a Miracle.

AN: How I love Priestly lol. If you liked this, let me know! 💜

Priestly Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BP Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @sanscas @kaleldobrev

@waters-2567 @pieandmonsters @akshi8278 @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @idiotdyslexic @heartlessdelusions @chriszgirl92

[south-of-heaven]

Did so good || Rhea Ripley x Reader x Damian Priest

Summary: Rhea is so happy after her match. Damian is still sulking over his ruined cash-in.

A/N: I can't stop thinking about that video so here is a little fic.

The arena buzzed with post-match excitement backstage at Crown Jewel, and you were practically bouncing with joy. Rhea had just retained her title in the Fatal Five-Way match, and you couldn't have been prouder of her. As you stood waiting near the locker rooms, you watched her approach, still in her ring gear, her championship held high.

"Eeeee!! You did so good!" you squealed as she drew near. Your enthusiasm was contagious, and you jumped into her arms, wrapping your legs around her waist. Rhea laughed, hugging you tightly, the taste of victory still fresh on her lips.

"Thank you, baby," She smiled, kissing you gently before setting you down and walking over to the tall, brooding figure standing a few feet away.

"I did it," she said, her voice filled with a mix of pride and relief. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she looked at Damian standing in front of her, still sporting a sour expression. She sought his approval more than anyone else's.

Damian had good reason to be upset; Sami Zayn had just stolen his briefcase as he tried to cash in on Seth Rollins. But when he saw Rhea looking at him the way she did, his anger melted away. She looked outright adorable, and he couldn't resist her, especially when she sought his reassurance.

He pulled Rhea in close, her head nestled against his chest, and kissed the top of her head. "Yeah, baby," he said softly, his gruff voice filled with warmth, "you did it. You did so damn good out there. I'm proud of you."

Rhea's smile brightened, and she hugged Damian even tighter. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the celebration of her hard-fought victory and the love she shared with you and Damian, the people who meant the world to her.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— THE BODY

SUMMARY : tish dared priestly to wear a dress to work in exchange for a week off. he looks so hot.

PAIRING : boaz priestly x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw (18+), smut, panty-kink, manhandling of priestly ;), sub!priestly or maybe he’s just being a feminist idk

WORD COUNT : 3.2k

A/N : title from close your eyes’ song. i’m still mad that he ended up looking normal in the end! there’s a bts reference on accident. also, also, i didn’t feel like writing this until I watched Rent, and I wanted to see jensen in a dress, lmao. anyway, i imagined him in this dress. we can also pretend it’s dean bc we all know he would. Xx

Priestly stepped into Y/N’s room, standing in the doorway like a toddler who had thrown up on themselves, waiting for her to look up at him. She was working on something in her laptop, her brows furrowed in focus, with her teeth pressing into her bottom lip.

She saw him out of the corner of her eye, “hey, Priestly,” she greeted distractedly. “How was your day, baby?” Still staring at the screen and typing away with two open books surrounding her bed, he stared at her pretty face intently, hoping she’d turn to look at him. When he dropped his bag loudly on the floor and didn’t reply, she finally turned to look at him, confused and concerned.

She’d studied his face first, smiling softly at his appearance, his hair in a Mohawk sprayed red, the black eyeliner that made the pretty colour of his eyes pop, his cute beard, the way his lips were a little unnaturally pink. He’d probably used some of her makeup, the tint that made the colour of lips look a little more natural.

But what made her blink at him in surprise was the white dress he was wearing. Almost instantly, a little smirk tugged at the corner of her lip and she quickly admired the way the dress fell over the curves of his body, tight and short with a sexy little slit on the front of his thigh.

He blushed, scratched anxiously at his beard and waited for her to say or do something as he stood there in the mini lace dress. The only thing that was off to her about his lovely appearance were the white socks and the matching Converse he was wearing, but other than that, he looked unsurprisingly pretty. He’d felt confident the whole day, but now he felt embarrassed and naked, which was new because Y/N usually enjoyed all his fashion choices.

“Wow,” she finally said, chuckling. “Come here, princess,” she teased, shutting her laptop and pushing it away along with her books. He rolled his eyes, pouted and walked towards her. Stomping towards her was more what he did, childishly he slouched in front of her, but he let her have a closer look at the dress.

He chewed on his lip when she hummed and curiously reached out to touch the lace of the sleeves. She slid her fingers down the slightly flared long sleeve, her fingers pinching the scallop edge experimentally, which matched the hem and the collar that covered the tattoo of his neck.

She bit her lip, looked up at him with a seductive smile when she moved her hand to the hem of the dress where the slit was. She undid the rhinestone buttons to make the slit longer, higher so she knew he wasn’t wearing boxers. Her lips were pressed together in amusement at the thought, he knew it, felt his face heat up even more when she slid her hand up to the dress to feel the silky underwear he was wearing.

“Ooh, sexy,” she smirked at him when she felt the lace edge of the underwear on his hips. She continued to stare up at him until he averted his gaze and shifted shyly, his fingers curling tightly around the hem of the dress. She finally looked down, peaked at the beige colour of the bikini underwear that nearly matched his skin, and pulled so it snapped against his skin.

She looked up at him again, let her eyes trail up the seams that followed the shape of his Ken-doll body, when she realised she could see his tattoos and his toned muscles. “Wait, it’s see-through?” She asked excitedly, sitting up on her knees to get a closer look at his chest, and saw his nipples through the thin material.

“Okay, I’m gonna take it off now…” he told her shyly, but she stopped him.

“Nuh-nuh, you look so fucking pretty.” Her voice had a little bit of awe and a flirtatiousness in it so he froze, his lips parted and he nodded mindlessly when she smoothed her hands down his sides. “So, what’s the story?” She grinned at him, moved her hands under the dress again to rest her hands on his hips.

“Well, Tish dared me to—oh!” He moaned, closing his eyes at the feeling of her warm hand moving up and down over his semi-hard dick. She hummed for him to continue, didn’t stop rubbing his dick as it hardened more, so he looked down at her in surprise. “Well, they all wanted to see me go through with it… I think they doubted I’d go through…” he bit his lip, paused to hold his breath when she moved her hand over the tip of his cock, and he knew she could feel the silky underwear dampen with precum.

His mind was hazy, jumbled and unfocused so he couldn’t tell his story straight. He had no idea where to begin or what was important, utterly unaware that what he was saying made absolutely no sense. He didn’t care, and frankly neither did she. She gathered those bits of information and didn’t question it, because in the end, all that mattered was that he looked and sounded so hot.

“Um… I’d get a week off if I went the whole day…” He trailed off and pouted when she moved her hand out from underneath the dress. He enjoyed getting this reaction out of her, his breath almost instantly became hot and heavy, his skin flushed and warm following the blood that moved with the rapid beat of his heart.

“A whole week for me?” She asked, just teasing a little. She leaned forward to kiss his neck, revelled in the little hitch in his breath, in him reaching out to hold her hips. He nodded, saying nothing in response, only wishing to enjoy her kisses on his throat, the rough bites on his neck, and possessive suckling under his jaw.

“Fuck,” he moaned, letting her continue to kiss him and feel the white dress on his body. She traced the rhinestone buttons on his chest with her curious fingers, from where it started at the collar to where it curved up over his peck and then down toward the side of his chest.

She pulled away from his neck, moved her lips down to his nipples and sucked at them through the lace. He bit his lip at first, nearly wanting to silence the sounds that started to bubble up in his chest, but decided against it when her fingers moved to tease his other nipple, brushing and pinching until he arched his back and he groaned hotly.

“Is this yours to keep?” She asked, getting off the bed to stand in front of him and change the position. He moved back to give her some space and nodded quickly, about to respond to her with an obedient ‘yes’, when she manhandled him onto the bed. He moaned—surprised and pleased, looked at her from over his shoulder and then turned to lay down on his back. “You’re so good,” she praised, pulling the soft sleep shorts she was wearing down her legs.

“Anything for you,” he murmured, trying to kick off the damned Converse from his feet. He struggled to even get them to move past the heel, instead his socks started to shift lower, and he bit his lip in his struggle.

She chuckled, starting to undo the buttons from the flannel that she’d stolen from him. He was sheepish in his failed attempts to remove his shoes, so he quit trying to get them off, distracted by the sight of her in his clothes. She didn’t give him time to admire her nakedness, because she focused on undoing his shoe-laces and then she slipped the shoes off his feet as if he were a princess. He was sure his face had turned red in that instant, but at the same time, he really liked the way she treated him so gently compared to how she’d pushed him onto the bed.

“I can’t believe me in a dress is doing it for you,” he said breathlessly, lifting the dress up his hips, and then watched her take her underwear off.

“Baby, anything you wear does it for me.” Her response was so quick and earnest, it made him swoon. His eyes softened, despite being aroused, he felt a warm feeling bloom in his chest. That was the case, until she crawled up his body and kissed his dick over the underwear, her tongue running flat over his bulge too. His heart lurched excitedly and his toes curled at the feeling, at the sight of her between his open legs.

She kissed his thighs, the way he would before he ate her out, teasingly and lovingly. She worshipped his body with her mouth and her fingers followed, thumbs smoothing over his hips bones, moving the underwear out of the way tortuously to create just a fract of pleasurable friction.

She lifted the dress up a little more, kissed his stomach, his pelvis, and everywhere else except for where he was twitching and throbbing for her attention. He didn’t even want it to end, didn’t dare to beg because he loved the wordless praise, loved the way she sucked at his skin to leave velvet marks, and the way she licked at his soft flesh, tasting him with little moans.

“Please,” it came out before he could stop it. He tensed a little when she stopped because he was definitely enjoying himself, but she was going up, reaching for his lips. His mouth parted, ready for hers but he groaned in irritation when she kissed his chin instead. She teasingly nipped at his lip, felt him squirm beneath her, and rubbed her wet pussy over his dick.

“Shit,” he hissed, a smirk growing on his face, “if I’d known women’s underwear felt this nice…” he chuckled, holding her hips and guiding her movements, distracted with the way she finally kissed him.

He could feel her arousal seep through the thin material of the women’s underwear he was wearing. He felt so needy when his cock was wet in her desire and throbbing to be inside the warmth of her cunt. He needed to guide this, needed to cum so bad, he started to lick into her mouth as soon as her lips were pressed against his. But she simply didn’t give in to him and he couldn’t give a damn about taking control when she was making him feel good, now sucking his tongue into her mouth so he felt like he wasn’t breathing.

He only moaned loudly into the kiss and let her grab his wrists to pin them over his head. He liked this, chased after her lips when she pulled away to stare at him smugly. He didn’t care about control or ending the foreplay, he just wanted to feel her close, always. But her small hand around his wrists wasn’t enough physical contact for him, he wanted to feel her everywhere.

So, he whined at her playfully and moved his hips up into her with care, struggling to keep his hands above his head simply because he wanted to feel her soft skin under his hands. He was squirming, getting needier by the second, just admiring her and wishing she could just be plastered all over his body forever.

“Just… let me enjoy this,” she said mischievously. She looked so hot in his flannel, with the ripped up sleeves that nearly covered most of her upper arms, the way it fell off her shoulders sexily now that she’d unbuttoned it, revealing her bare chest. The only good thing about summer in California was getting to see her look more sexy than usual by dressing half-naked at home. Or even better, wearing just his clothes with nothing underneath.

He pouted, rolled his eyes, and turned his face to the side. Even when she started to unbutton the dress at the top, he pretended to be uninterested. Even once her soft lips chased the skin she uncovered. He felt her smirk when he wiggled under her, and he clenched his fists to stop himself from touching her, because she may not have said it, but he wasn’t allowed to touch her right now. Her tongue started lapping at his velvety skin, tracing the tattoos she could reach, sucking where his skin was unmarked by ink.

“Tell me you’ve enjoyed this enough…” he whispered. Desperate for more, more friction, more of her touch, more of her everywhere.

“Then I’d be lying,” she murmured against his skin, “I don’t lie to you…” She pouted innocently, her eyes shining playfully, but still she moved up to kiss him again.

His hands moved instinctively to hold her face, but he stopped himself halfway and gripped the pillow beside him instead. He squeezed it tightly, desperately trying to hold onto something when she sucked on his lip, her hands sneaking down between their bodies to pull the underwear he was wearing aside.

“But I do want to move on to the fun part,” she whispered. When she wrapped her hand around his hard cock, he moaned, his head pressing back into the mattress. She didn’t even care if the red hairspray would taint the sheets seeing him look this beautiful and needy. She just gave him little kisses that began at the corner of his mouth and started to spread his precum over the tip and down the rest of his cock. “I’m gonna sit on your face later, it’s just so pretty,” she mumbled against his cheek.

“Fuck… yeah,” he agreed excitedly, turning his face to the side, hoping to reach her lips. “Let me touch you,” he murmured, trying to get her lips closer, but she was moving back, torturing him with a little smirk. Her hand tightened around his cock, squeezing to draw out a grunt from him, her gentle fingers massaging under the tip. “Please, baby, let me touch you,” he whispered, sounding more wrecked.

Her stomach clenched at his voice, but instead of giving in and responding, she kissed him roughly. He took that as an invitation and let go of the pillow to hold her face at last. She didn’t force him away this time, let him tangle his fingers in the hair at the back of her neck, his tongue moving against hers deep in her mouth. His stomach was flipping excitedly at the taste of her, and his other hand began to move down her body, to slide his fingers through her wet folds.

They both pulled away at the same time to moan, his hand moving from behind her neck to grasp her thigh harshly instead. She panted on his lips when his fingers moved through her weeping cunt, sliding through the embarrassing amount of arousal that soaked her folds up to her clit. The feeling of how wet she was turned him on, all he could think was that he’d caused it, that and the flushed state she was currently in.

He slid his fingers through her wetness the way he’d do with his cock and brought them into her pussy, pushing deep so she stretched around his two fingers. He could feel her warmth and more arousal cover his hand when he pulled his fingers out and pushed them back into her. She rested her forehead on his shoulder, muffled her already soft moans with the dress he was wearing.

With her chest pressed against his, her nipples tightened when brushing against the lace of the dress and her walls fluttered around his fingers. With her hand on his chest, she sat up, moved her hand on his cock faster, twisting her wrist so deliciously he felt so close to his release and he didn’t want to stop it from happening, but he also didn’t want the pleasure to end so soon.

She ground her hips into his hand, getting her clit stimulated on his palm, and both of them looked away from each other to shamelessly watch their hands work between their bodies. Her small hand wrapped around him was slick in his precum, but not nearly as soaked as his hand was from her wetness. He groaned, grabbed her wrist to stop her from making him finish, and slipped his fingers out of her.

“Ready?” He whispered, patting the back of her thigh so she’d move closer, allowing him to fill her up all the way. She nodded, slipped out of the flannel, threw it over her books and lowered the panties he was wearing down to his knees. She snickered playfully, ignored his annoyed huff and the roll of his eyes when she finally lined the head of his cock with her entrance, slowly sinking down on him while biting her lip.

“So good,” she whispered distractedly, her breath catching in her throat the farther she took him into her cunt. She panted, ground her hips against his to adjust to the size of him, comforted by the way he brushed his thumbs along her hips. He waited patiently for her despite throbbing inside her, just slid his hands up to her waist, guiding her to lean over him slightly.

“I love you,” he breathed out, pulling her closer still, until she kissed him again. Her lips moved against his slowly, occasionally bumping against the labret stud, her nose brushing against the two nose ring hoops when she tilted her head. Once she deepened the kiss, her tongue slipped into his mouth, and she lifted her hips before she sank back down.

He moaned against her, squeezed her waist, and bent his knees but could only keep them apart a certain distance because the underwear started to dig painfully into the flesh of his taut thighs. It turned him on, both the knowledge of having worn panties, but also the feeling of being restricted. She knew that about him and he just knew that’s why she’d lowered the underwear where they were.

He thrusted up into her, met her thrusts slowly at first, until they both picked up the pace. With one of her hands beside his head and the other on his chest where his heart was, she stabilised herself. She felt every inch of him move in and out of her smoothly, then watched him crumble slowly almost as close as she was to her orgasm.

He was holding back and she knew it, brought her hand away from beside his head to rub quick circles on her clit. Right as her walls fluttered around him and she moaned his name, he came inside her, falling apart so prettily beneath her with a strangled moan.

“I love you,” she murmured, resting all her weight on him, finally returning his sentiment. He wrapped his arms around her, smiling tiredly, but otherwise felt so light and warm from his orgasm. Holding her was just a bonus and kissing her was the main treat.

He whined playfully when she shifted and started to pull away, pouted when she moved off his lap, but let her remove the underwear which was keeping him restrained. She threw it carelessly onto the floor and climbed up his body again while smiling softly and placed a kiss on his forehead, her lips lingering lovingly. “Never change, Boaz Priestly,” she murmured.

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