#and i never think twice seeing other people wearing them

[frommybedroom]

inspired by this post

Even after he turns in his essay, he can’t stop. It’s not like he’s never written anything before, but those were the silly daydreams of a little boy with his head in the clouds, who dreamed of movie stars and damsels in distress. What he’s doing now is important. What he’s doing now is necessary.

On the third day in a row that he’s late to dinner—so late that Soda has to reheat his plate—Darry says, “What you been writing about, Pony?”

“Yeah,” Soda says, bringing the plate over and setting it down. “You’re always still up when I try to go to bed. I’ve had to replace the batteries in your flashlight twice now. Are you writing another story?”

Pony shrugs. Suddenly, all the words that pour out of him so easily onto the page get lodged in the back of his throat.

How to describe it to them? The urge—to not forget, to hold onto what was. To wring out the words and distill them into a watered-down version of his friends. Those measly words the only things left of Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston.

“Hey, Ponyboy, what’s wrong?”

Pony blinks, and Soda’s blurry face peers at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Darry scoot his chair closer to the both of them. Both wear matching expressions of concern.

“I just—” He swallows past the lump in his throat. “I just want to remember them.”

His brothers don’t say anything. So he keeps going.

“I—I can’t let them just disappear. They were here. They were real. And now they’re not. And I can’t let what their tombstones say be the only thing people remember about them. They were more than just a date.”

Soda leans over and ruffles his hair. It’s starting to grow out again finally, the natural dark roots beginning to peek through. “Don’t worry about that, Pony. You’ll never forget them. None of us will.”

“Yeah,” Darry agrees. “Dallas and Johnny were family, and family don’t—”

“I can’t remember what Mom’s perfume smelled like,” Pony bursts out. “I don’t remember what her high heels sounded like on the floor or the slight burning smell when she would curl her hair. And I try real hard to remember what it was like waking up and hearing Dad make coffee, but it’s gone. They’re fading. Like they were never actually here at all.” He clenches his fists, and there’s still a faint ache in his wrist. “I’m not gonna let that happen to them.”

He doesn’t tell them that sometimes at night, after Soda’s fully asleep and snoring like some dang bear, he sneaks out of bed and into the closet where they’ve kept Johnny’s clothes folded in a neat pile. Sometimes he holds them, brushing his fingers over the ripped jeans; sometimes he can’t bear to sully them. Which doesn’t even make sense because the shirt’s still got some of Johnny’s blood on it so it’s plenty dirty already, but he still feels like he’ll ruin it if he touches them too much or for too long.

He’s broken out of his thoughts by arms wrapping around him. A moment later, another pair of arms joins the first. And then he’s clutching onto Soda’s elbow and Darry’s forearm, and once again they’re all holding each other.

He wonders what this scene would look like to an observer: three boys in a rundown kitchen with grime caked under their fingernails and wearing clothes that don’t fit quite right. Unwanted tears escaping from tightly squeezed eyelids. A forgotten plate of food sitting on the table. No parents or friends anywhere to be seen.

He thinks they would see grief. And heartache and loneliness and pain. But maybe also hope. Maybe also love.

[napping-sapphic]

Y'know, reading bout your new PJs reminded me that one time on a school trip (we were all 18 or 19) all my classmates n I decided to simply stay in the motel hall playing the ballpool game (English is not my first language sorry if I wrote it the wrong way) in our PJs all chilling and being like, yeah I'm in my PJs and I'm damn fabulous 💅✨

It was a super cool night indeed

Your frienly silly neighborhood masc

P.s. I had a super sober lion king PJ I totally won the PJ's beauty contest XD

Aw that’s very cute!! I always liked the idea of having little pajama parties with people!! I was raised under this weird and annoying mentality that I always have to be dressed to a certain standard in public or around people though so unfortunately wearing anything my parents didn’t consider nice enough in front of too many other people stresses me out now🙃

Nowadays I still can’t get myself to wear sweatpants in public but I DO get really excited about putting together cute pajamas and I’m EXTRA excited to be comfortable enough around someone to wear them in front of them someday💪

Also hell yes on that pajama contest win, as you should really that sounds like it slaps😤

[bunnihearted]

🏩🧸🎀🪞

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: some nsfw

♡ fem reader

Thinking about what a dumb party girl you are and the poor loser who's stuck tutoring you in all the classes you skip.

You were one of those people who believed everyone to be her friend. The type that went shopping a lot and hung at the mall more days than you bothered showing up to class – a bit of an airhead.

He’d call you a bimbo, but you’re not really known to sleep around – something about finding the right guy.

You opened the door with a smile, “Hi, welcome! Come in~” and pulled him inside by his arm. “I just got out of the shower, so I haven't really gotten dressed – hope you don’t mind!”

You’re in pink from head to toe – a bit excessively, like you’d gone shopping in the little girl’s section, only… you don’t have a little girl’s body… and that top and those shorts are a little too tight on your curves.

“Doesn’t really matter what you wear as long as you got your books.” He answers nonchalantly – as though he isn’t trying hard not to make out the outline of your cunt where it’s cupped so tight in unfairly thin cotton.

“Okay then~” You giggle, interlocking your fingers with his before turning around and leading him in.

His eyes go to the crease of your asscheeks as soon as you turn around, looking at where they peek out from under your bootie shorts – plump squeezable fat jiggling on every peppy step you took in your fluffy bunny slippers as you pull him into the private comfort of your room.

“My parents are out of town, but they left money for pizza – or whatever else you might want~”

You were all alone?

He doesn't know if he likes that or not. Blind trust. Don’t you realize how much bigger he is than you? Doesn’t it cross your mind at all how you’d have to call the police if he decided he didn’t want to leave at the end of the night?

“Pizza’s good.”

You smile, plopping down on your bed. “Okay then, mister Tutor~” Everything in your room is pink as well. “What do you have in store for me?”

You shouldn’t say stuff like that. Gives the wrong impression. You’re lucky he isn’t a bad guy.

“Where’s your books?”

You look a little puzzled for a moment – as though it was an unprompted question. “Right! Uhm…”

You kneel down in front of your bed and drag a dusty stack of textbooks from underneath.

“Here.”

He raises a brow at you.

“Have you ever even opened them?”

You giggle again. “I’ve written my name on the inside like a good girl~”

He struggles hard not to swallow the tightness in his throat – feeling a twitch in his pants at the sight of you sitting on the floor like that.

“Well, it’s a pretty name.”

You look a little disappointed – or maybe it’s just in his head.

In any case, you rise from the floor and sit down in one of the chairs by the desk, which he’d guess had never held any book other than a magazine.

He picks up the textbooks and sits down in the other chair. And it’s odd, staring at himself in the mirror in front of you – but he has to, to see if he looks suspicious – if he’s showing any tells of how badly he wants to touch you.

He opens up the book on the top of the stack, hopes he doesn’t smell like sweat – and you put your hand on the tent in his pants.

The book flaps close, and he jumps out of his chair – and you innocently peer up at him with your long lashes.

Then you say, “What?” as though his reaction surprised you. 

He stays silent – blinking once, then twice – mouth dry and out of words.

You slant your head to the side. “Don’t tell me you had your heart set on teaching me math.”

You have a look on your face that makes him feel like begging.

Standing up, you stalk him until the backs of his knees hit the bed, and he falls down on it with a heavy thud – still stunned and stupid, looking at you with wide eyes as you mount him – rubbing that cute tightly-hugged mound upon his bulging crotch – making him groan with cinched brows, watching your pretty manicured fingers as they fiddle with his belt buckle.

“You really want this?” He asks breathlessly, and you stop to eye him – eyes wondering over that cute look of shock riddled all over his face.

You gave him a small catlike smile, bit your lip, and batted your coy doe-eyes down at him – running your hands up his chest until you reached his throat. “I wouldn’t exactly invite a big boy like you over, much less into my bedroom, if I didn’t want it.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Shinso ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kuro ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ DS – Tanjiro, Zenitsu ♡ HxH – Feitan, Leorio

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

Full fic with smut available here:

[chososdiscordkitten]

Kneel.

Synopsis: Priest!Nanami being completely and utterly tormented by nasty thoughts of reader (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Pairing: Nanami x Fem!Reader Content: pwp, plot before porn, catholicism, questioning faith, sooo much guilt, reader is 29, nanami is 34, reader kinda mysterious -.-

MDNI

Nanami’s life as a priest was busy- no time to be bored, nor time to yearn for more. Two or three funerals a month, mass every day- more than twice on Sundays. A handful of weddings a year, the many church groups he would oversee. His schedule was almost always fully booked.

His life was steady- a routine he followed every day. A life he was riding down happily. 

And when that peaceful life hit a bump, Nanami felt his life could be derailed entirely if he allowed it. 

‘I do it for my god.’

‘I do it for my parish.’

That’s what Nanami reminded himself of when your eyes would catch onto his. 

Preaching Sunday mass to the churchgoers- trying to direct his words to everyone. But whenever he did a scan of the room, his eyes stuck onto you for a brief moment.

Unable to shake the split-second thought of how you were the kind of woman he would have talked up in his 20s. He would shoo them aside before his expression could show what he was thinking. Placing his focus on preaching, instead of you.

You, who always sat at the very back of the church hall. And always with a questioning peak on your brow. 

But only you never stayed long enough after the service was over for him to properly introduce himself. Always walking out the minute the church-goers stood up to bid farewell to their neighbors. 

Even if he was held back by shaking hands- praising him for such a wonderful sermon. Nanami’s eyes still caught a glimpse of you that left the giant wooden doors of the church. Even more so, the clicking of heels against the tile- proud steps away from him as though you had completed your task.

Never did you stand for the sacramental wine nor the offering of the body of Christ. You only stayed in one of the pews at the very back and watched the line of merry people take them from his hands. A tilted head in curiosity with a small smile, as though you were poking fun at them in your mind. 

Day by day, sermon by sermon, you started inching towards him. One pew after the other. And when he finally noticed how close you had gotten, a mere 4 benches away from him. Nanami could see you up close now- the revealing collarbone that stood prominent with every inhale you took, the curve of your neck when you tilted it to the side. And every slight squint you would make as he spoke. 

Seeing you from a distance was one thing- being able to hide his catching gaze whenever he would address the flock. 

But now, he could see you even closer, his eyes catching onto how your lips would slightly purse. Almost in disbelief—when he would recite direct words from the Bible. Caused him to stutter over his words, excusing himself quickly before continuing. 

The part that made his mind reel was the congregation avoiding you. As though you weren’t even there. And Nanami knew this was impossible. A beautifully haunting churchgoer would’ve been swarmed by the single men of the church. 

But to you, they never mattered. Always swatting them away with one harsh look- at times, the aura you held was enough for them to steer clear. And the women of the flock didn’t find it very church-like that you did not greet them upon entry nor bid goodbye to your neighbors when the service was over. 

And the blatant isolation only made Nanami worry- knowing the church’s people can be judgemental at times. 

The Father blamed his priest nature for wanting to introduce himself. Knowing you had been attending for a few weeks now, and wanting to see if you were finding your way in the congregation.

Seven years wearing the white collar made Nanami think he had some sense when it came to acknowledging a troubled soul. However, the unfazed expression you would hold as he spoke and the slight look back at him when you would leave the church, left the man more troubled than you could ever be. 

At once, while he was speaking- preaching the words he carefully chose from the good book. Nanami’s eyes caught onto yours. Stuttering over his words as he watched you raise a brow and tilt your head, all with a vexing smile on your painted lips. 

As though you were taunting him for the stumbling, he saw it in the way you looked at him. Nanami felt your gaze on his skin as he spoke. Felt it burn into him with every word.

And when you finally lined up with the others during the eucharist. His jaw clenched, a sprinkle of nerves coating his hands as he watched glimpses of you through the line of people. Even lined up- you stood out. 

As you came closer to him with every person he gave the small wafer to, Nanami felt his heart start to pound. Never spoken to you- never even introduced himself. And his heart was racing. 

When you stood before him; Thick eyelashes and plump lips greeted him with a small smile. 

Blinking softly and looking up at him, parting your mouth and pressing the tip of your tongue to your bottom lip. Nanami inhaled, his hand lightly trembling as he held the little cookie. 

Looking into his eyes as he placed the weightless wafer to your bottom lip. His adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp, watching you pull the wafer into your mouth with a grin before leaving the line. 

The interaction wasn’t longer than a second- but it shook the Father to his core. Knowing that for the first time in the seven years of being in the priesthood, the first time since he was ordained– he had questioned his faith. 

For the rest of the mass, Nanami couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind. With every blink, he saw a flash of you, softly batting your eyelashes up at him with your lips parted. Even more so when he would scan the audience and see your face, a smirk on your expression, as though you were aware of the torment you had inflicted on the priest. 

Nanami didn’t know what brewed in his soul; he had no clue what called him to you. Why you were so tempting. 

That evening, when the large room was emptied. The Father prayed. He prayed and repented for the wisping thoughts that dared enter his mind. 

‘Let me help this woman,’ he prayed, ‘Let me help you find your way.’ as though he was speaking to you directly, unaware of what plagued you or why you ended up in the church's halls. 

Pleading with the ethereal being in the clouds to help him. To help him see why you were put before him. And what lesson you were meant to teach him. 

Even as he was preaching the words written in the Bible. He would pray in his mind- begging the Lord to rid him of the plaguing thoughts of you.

When he would kneel, close his eyes, hold his hands together against his lips and pray to his god; Nanami always expected some divine insight to race into his mind once he rose from his knees. He always hoped his god would tell him how to fix his issues. 

And so far, it had been a one-sided conversation. 

Tuesdays were spent sitting on the uncomfortable wooden confessional bench, hearing the same issues the regular churchgoers would come to confess. 

‘Anger, gluttony, greed.’

It was always the same—the same menial sins from the same people. Nanami often wondered if they had not tired from the repetitiveness. If they were not as exhausted as he was from listening to the problems they refused to fix. 

After the last regular left the booth, Nanami checked his watch. Noting there was only 20 minutes before 6pm. Part of him wanted to leave the booth then and there. Lock the doors of the church and continue his work in the office. 

But something told him to stay. 

Knowing he was right as he heard the heavy doors open, and the light clacking of heels hitting tile. Getting closer and closer as the Father awaited the curtain next to him to open. 

He cleared his throat as he heard someone ease onto the wooden bench. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” he spoke, hearing your voice whisper an ‘amen’ along with him. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” 

Nanami closed his eyes- almost in pain hearing your voice ring through his ears. 

Silk and smooth as he expected. “It has been 14 years since my last confession.” your tone conveying a small smile- the same grin you would have on your lips during mass. 

The man couldn’t speak- his cheeks ran with slight tingles as he heard you. 

“I’ve committed a handful of sins, Father. I don’t know where to start.” tilting your head to the side and awaiting the mans guidance. 

He inhaled, shaking off the feeling of thinking it was you behind the screen. “Of all of them, which seems to be the one that weighs on you most?” his tone was steady- stark contrast to his pained expression. 

“The one that plagues me most-” lightly humming, almost taunting him as you thought. “May I be honest?” you spoke- hearing quiet shifting beside you. 

“Of course. Please- be honest.” Nanami urged, eager to know why you were placed in his path. Why you. 

The grin that arose on your cheeks was one that shouldn’t have. “I have been lusting after a man I shouldn’t be.” You spoke with a light rasp in your tone. Proud shoulders, not daring to falter their posture. 

Nanami clenched his jaw. Pondering if he genuinely wanted to tread through these waters. 

“I have thought vile things while in his presence.” spoken just shy of a whisper- loud enough for him to hear. “I try tempting him.” 

It wasn’t your words- nor the sultry tone you took that bothered the Father. It was how callous they fell from your lips. How easily you admitted these sins and how unapologetic you sounded. 

Even if you had not physically done anything— the sins were only committed in your mind—your confession showed him you were on the steps to show some kind of penance. 

“Do you know the ‘Act of contrition’ prayer?” Nanami asked, hoping the words would bring him back to stable ground. 

“I do.” you spoke softly, awaiting his instructions. 

Gulping softly, “Kneel.” he commanded, his tone sending a direct spike of warmth down your spine. 

Slowly shifting onto the ground, placing your elbows onto the wooden seat, and interlocking your fingers together. “Pray.” the Father spoke in a curt breath, his tone all but begging you to. 

You closed your eyes. “My God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee,” softly reciting the prayer as the Father mouthed the words as you spoke them. 

Even as you recited the rest of the prayer- instead of helping, this only fed the rot growing in Nanami’s brain. Now, knowing you were aware enough of Catholicism and still thought of vile things, he refused to imagine.

And as he recited a prayer of absolution- he begged in his mind for you to pray for him as well.

Pray for him to find the strength to keep the box of carnal thoughts he locked away when he was anointed at bay. 

Even if the priest didn’t believe it, “God has freed you from your sins,” he said. “Go in peace.” knowing that, as it was on Sundays, you would go in peace, whereas Nanami would be left more troubled than when he started. 

And as he heard your voice whisper, ‘Thank you Father.’ before the clacking of heels descended onto the tiles. The thoughts inside that locked box dared to reawaken themselves. 

Thoughts he reserved only for his early twenties, no longer having the right to access them now. But you- you shoved the reservations aside. Made room for yourself in his mind- what plagued him most was how unsure he was if it really was you behind the wooden fence of the booth.

Nanami would be lying if he said he had never prayed as hard as he did once you left the confession box. Making sure to lock the church doors and light a candle. 

Standing at the center of the aisle, the statue of his god looking down at him with tears in his eyes. As though his god was disappointed in him.

Nanami fell to his knees, defeated and scared of what was planted into his brain. 

And as he started his prayer, the words sounded as though he was asking for mercy. Pleading with his god to forgive him, to rid him of you and the infiltrating things he pictured as you spoke. He begged for help on his hands and knees- even a light tear leaving his closed eye. 

Sunday’s morning mass came and went. Nerves filled his hands as he awaited the afternoon mass to start. 

Nanami awaited you- his eyes locking onto the door anytime it opened. He held off the mass as long as he could. And the realization that you were not showing up affected him more than it should have. 

And when afternoon mass started, he thought it might’ve been his fault. Had he assisted you better in your confession, maybe you would have shown up. 

Nanami made up a handful of excuses on your behalf, that you were sick- or just busy.

But none of them were true. None of the excuses Nanami made up satisfied him enough to still his mind. 

And as he was gathering his belongings from the lectern, the church empty and dim as he accumulated his thoughts. The sound of the large doors opening caused him to look up. 

The figure of you walking down the aisle in his direction, calf-length black dress and the same black heels that clacked against the tile. your cheeks lightly damp from the heavy rain that echoed through the halls.

Even dressed modestly- the sight of you still troubled the man. 

Nanami knew it was only you, him, and his god in that room now. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to use the congregation as an excuse to look away. 

He parted his lips to speak, only you spoke faster than he could- “Father, I was hoping we could talk.” a low tone- different from the one you used when you sat in the confessional. But speaking with the same ease that he heard the last time, it made him realize that ‘anonymous’ confession wasn’t anonymous anymore. Nanami was sure it was you now. 

And as though his prayers worked- your face looked almost remorseful. 

“Not as a confession.” you reiterated, causing the man to gulp lightly and try to gather his thoughts. “Just to talk.” 

Ending up sitting in his office- a small room at the very back of the church. Small windows being pelted with heavy raindrops.

Set up in the same way a principal’s office would be. Sitting across from him, desk separating you from the priest. 

Even if he sat in the chair that technically held the power- the aura that surrounded you made a chill run down his spine when he eased into his chair. 

“How are you finding the congregation?” he asked, words he had been thinking since he noticed your seclusion. And being able to ask you without worrying it wasn't you sitting beside him. 

Crossing your ankles and lightly easing onto the arm of the chair, you softly smiled, “The people are kind. I know I can sometimes come off standoffish; they still try.” 

Nanami felt a tension in his throat, as if he had taken an overly large bite of a meal he wasn’t ready for. “I had noticed you had not engaged with the others.”  

“Did you?” you asked- taking on that little upturn in your tone. Your low eyes watch the man before you gulp. The white collar became tight from the words that sounded all too tantalizing than they should have. 

“It made me worry.” he looked down at the calendar on his desk- full of black pen marks of that month’s activities. 

You lightly furrowed your eyebrows, “Worry?” 

“Worry that you weren’t finding your way in the church.” he reiterated, trying to shake away the nerves and make this as you asked. Just a talk. 

Nanami wanted to bring up your confession- he needed to know why you wanted to tempt a man. He wanted to know if you were speaking of him. 

“When I see you leave immediately after the service,” he continued, feeling the light searing your gaze onto his skin. 

“I never had the chance to properly introduce myself-” he spoke, flashing his eyes at you. 

“Do you introduce yourself to every new church member, Father?” You asked, words that almost made the man cough. 

“I try to.” he admitted. Even if every cell in his brain told him to lie- to say ‘Yes, I do.’ 

“I imagine it’s quite difficult- so many people.” you thrummed, softly turning your head to the side and looking at the walls. Decorated with old paintings that had been hung there long before Nanami had been anointed. 

His mind reeling with questions a priest shouldn't ask a member of his flock.

“I am.” you hummed, looking back at the man whose eyes widened slightly. Unsure if you had heard his thoughts or- “Finding my way in the church.” elaborating on his confusion. 

“Were you raised catholic?”

The little grin that rose on your cheeks should’ve told him everything, but it only caused more confusion for the man. “I was,” you mumbled, looking at the body language he held as he sat. 

Tense broad shoulders that made your thighs press together whenever your eyes caught them. A furrowed brow that would twitch when you started speaking. “Around 16 or so, I left the church.” 

“And what brought you back?” he spoke—clearer and without fault. He aimed his intentions at helping you instead of trying to aid his wandering conscious. 

Looking down to your hands, “When I moved back here- something told me to come see the church.” lightly shifting in the chair as you spoke, “Imagine my surprise when I saw a priest I wasn’t expecting, walk before the congregation.” 

He took those words as a negative- as though you were disappointed that he greeted you and not another priest. 

“Were you raised in the church?” you asked softly, watching his eyebrows pinch in the slightest. 

He took a light breath- “I was.” nodding softly and recalling the memories of his youth. There was a small silence- waiting for him to continue as he expected your voice to speak up. Knowing this was to counsel you- not the other way around. 

“Continue, Father, please.” watching his eyes squint and think on it. 

Lightly clenching his teeth, he said, “I went to an all-boys Catholic school.” He softly blinked, looking down at his hands.  

“So you always wanted to be a priest?” you asked, the question coming off more sarcastic than genuine. 

He scoffed with a small hearty laugh- clearing his throat and sitting up. “No- no, I didn’t want to join the priesthood until I was 23.” he elaborated, watching you softly nod. 

“What made you turn back to religion?” repeating the question he had asked you earlier, only with a more seductive tone.

‘Because of haunting women like you.’ was all he could think as you awaited his answer. 

“I wanted to help people—I want. To help,” he said, words he hoped you would hear and pick up on his urge to assist you. 

In your mind, a sneering comment flashing in red- 'You want to help?' almost like a challenge.

“When I came to confess earlier this week-” you brought it up. That’s what Nanami held onto in his mind. You brought it up. He didn’t. 

“I still felt plagued by what I spoke to you about, father.” looking at him with a sprinkle of feigned sincerity in your eyes. 

Only to the man before you- that false sincerity was seen as an urge to rid yourself of your sins. 

His face was still- unshowing any emotion that throbbed in his mind. And you took it as him not remembering. “I recited the prayer of contrition,” you spoke- some attempts to remind him. 

Only the Father knew precisely what you were referring to. “I remember.” he assured, softly nodding and allowing you to continue. 

“After- I felt even worse.” Bowing your head to hide the smile on your cheeks as you toyed with your hands. “They didn’t stop after I left- if anything,” the words spilled from your lips, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin from what you were insinuating. 

“They got worse- more filthy; once I left, Father.” your expression hidden from him- and your tone soft, hinting that this indeed plagued you. 

You sighed, “It was unbearable.” accentuating the word with a pained tone. Smiling to yourself, “I’m sure you know the feeling, Father- as though one light breeze would make you combust at that moment.” 

 “I couldn’t even bring myself to come-” Nanami’s hand dared to clench at your words, “-to Mass this morning; that’s how shameful I felt.”

Answering Nanami’s question without having to ask it- “I thought it would be less frowned upon if I stepped into the church after mass.” 

Nanami gulped at the insinuation- all too fearful of what you spoke of. “Have you prayed on this?” he asked, air threatening to choke his words. 

Looking up at him with pinched brows, lips parted ever so slightly. “I have never prayed so much in my life before this.” 

Your words conflicted with. If you were so godly and sure of Catholicism. Why do your eyes tell him another story? Why do your eyes glimmer with hints of intent- as though you were looking at prey?

“Why do you think these thoughts have yet to leave you?” he spoke- words he said as a priest but meant as a person. 

“I think a masochistic part of me urges me to continue returning to the cause.” Words that rung true in his ears- knowing that he was the same. That, he very much could have excused you- tell you he was busy or that he could not talk at that moment. 

But the same as you, Nanami allowed himself to allow you access to him. The excuse of closure and the urge to help, used to defend himself to the god above him. 

Spoken in a whisper, “Like an itch I can’t scratch.” the Father started contemplating how far it would be if he admitted to the same thing- how bad it would truly be, if he confessed that the very same thing had plagued him.

Nanami was about to part his lips to speak- but the little reminder on his phone rang beside him. Looking down and seeing it- a parish meeting. “Maybe we should continue this next week.” he spoke- almost relieved that he would be able to escort you from the room thick with tension. 

“Have I taken too much of your time, father?” you asked- voice churned with the slightest hint of false distress. 

Nanami inhaled- “Not at all.” with a smile, “I just have a parish meeting in a few minutes.” he excused. Pushing his chair back and standing. 

And as he walked you past the church’s pew benches- a few inches to your side. “How does next Sunday sound?” he spoke, a low tone laced with the tiniest hit of smugness.

Shoes clicking against the tile as he walked. And as you turned your head over to him, a mindless hand was placed on your back. The lightest touch guiding you towards the door. 

“Sunday is perfect, Father.” you mumbled, watching his hand open the large door and await you to step out. 

And as he watched you leave his church- he almost closed his eyes in relief. 

Thinking of the movement Nanami hadn’t made since his days in college- a little action he would use on the opposite gender. It flustered him more now than it ever did. 

Life as a priest didn’t require him to touch women- ever so often holding their hands in his as they spoke to him. A handshake, a side hug from the overly enthusiastic housewives after his services. 

But that touch- the feeling of your back pressed against his palm. It sent shocks of fear mixed with excitement down his spine. 

During the entire parish meeting; the Father’s mind was fogged. Unsure what he was getting into- or why he was so determined to walk head first into this. Even if it was you who caused him to contemplate his life in the priesthood. 

Nanami would help you find your way, even if it killed him trying to. Reminding himself of the words in his mind. 

‘I do it for my god.'

'I do it for my parish.’

-

PT 2

(a.n) ....hehe

[husbandhoshi]

[9:47 AM] *suggestive

the first thing you learn about seungcheol is that his towels are embroidered. csc, they read, in gold thread on absurdly plush bath towels.

(actually, the first thing you learned about him was that he's a good kisser. you learned this the hard way, outside the bar, after all your friends had gone home and it just was you, him, and his tongue in your mouth.)

as a rule, you try not to learn anything about your late night escapades, but, evidently, you have already failed.

it's easy to notice his bathroom looks much bigger than it did last night, now that all the lights are on. he has not one, but two, matching rugs, and the sconce lights make the marble countertop look like it's made of water. nestled in the corner is a little tray with all his cologne lined up end to end—armani, dior, chanel.

you pick up the silvery one on the end and smell the cap. (yes, this one. he was wearing this one last night, right in the space where his collarbone met the base of his neck. you had kissed him there, and he had asked you to go home with him. creed, aventus, it says.)

he even has the drunk elephant moisturizer, although it looks criminally underused. it sits among a small pile of skincare that looks like it costs twice your monthly paycheck, if you had worked overtime.

you have to remind yourself you're not here to snoop through rich people's bathrooms, as fun as that sounds.

seungcheol was a quick fuck (and a really good one at that), but you already feel like you've overstayed your welcome.

the plan—in and out. you hate the sticky, too-warm goodbyes, the small talk at the kitchen table, the unexpected rattle of a roommate coming home. worst of all, they never want you as badly in the morning as they did the night before.

but the plan has already gone to shit. you woke up practically spooning him and your little bathroom detour cost you ten minutes. and it's almost 10, which is what he has his two-hundred dollar alarm clock set to.

you shut the bathroom door as quietly as you can, hoping to make a quick getaway. but it's here, caught in the waxy overcast from the huge windows, where, for the first time in your life, you almost want to say fuck the plan.

"morning," seungcheol hums, propping himself up on the bed. you take one look at him, shirtless and sweats slung low, and you lose the plot entirely.

yesterday, when you had met, it looked like he was made in some kind of factory for hot men—starched white shirt rolled to the forearms, hair perfectly gelled, and a fat breitling watch hugging his wrist. and yet, as you watch him blow a cowlick out of his eyes, he seems even more attractive, which you would have never thought possible.

"someone's eager to get outta here," he says, enjoying the way you avoid his eyes. "don't tell me it was that bad for you."

you smile nervously. what you can remember about last night is that it was anything but bad. the whole thing makes your face feel hot—you are no prude, but he sure makes you feel like one.

"is that what it looks like?" you answer. you realize you can't find your shoes. you think he threw them somewhere last night, between the memory of his hand up your dress and yours in his hair. he kissed his way up your legs and you forgot you even had shoes to worry about.

"almost, if you weren't checking me out just now."

damn. guilty as charged. you can't help it. things feel too good to be true.

first, you learned you got fucked by a million dollar dick last night. now, instead of kicking you out like any other one night stand, he's acting decent, maybe even more than decent. and he has the tits of a god.

seungcheol sees your face wrench up in puritanical shame and he laughs.

"well, if you have time in your busy, busy schedule," he starts, with a grin that makes you dizzy. "i'm making breakfast. and i would love to eat it with you."

suddenly you don't know why you ever had a plan in the first place. you watch him attempt to wink at you from all the way across the room and you think getting to know him might not be such a bad thing after all. maybe things are too good to be true, but you're willing to find out.

needless to say, the second thing you learn about seungcheol is that he cannot cook.

the third? he's an even better kisser sober.

[lowkeyremi]

JJK CHARACTERS AND THEIR ICKS

basically things they do that make you upset. this is a joke so please do not attack me. y'all already know i never miss a chance to slander gojo!!! credit to my sweet mutual lene (@satorisoup) for giving me this idea!!! GO READ HER'S (if you're into haikyuu)

Gojo

PLEASE. He 100% leaves his clothes on the floor and it really grates your nerve when the hamper is RIGHT THERE!!! and he just leaves them right in front of it. It's so embarrassing when you have guests over and they just pull a dirty sock from between the couch cushions.

Yuji

I love him but I just KNOW he leaves toothpaste in the sink. It's like he doesn't understand the concept of rinsing the sink out after you brush your teeth. You'll finally be making your way into the bathroom to brush your teeth and there's dried spit and toothpaste in the sink.

Megumi

Always. talks. back. It does not matter he always has something to say. "Well you could have just taken out the trash like I asked you to." and he'll say something snarky like, "Maybe if you weren't so soft spoken I would have heard you." BOY SHUT UP BEFORE YOU GET SLAPPED.

Geto

He is a HUGE gossip. "Mimiko was telling me about xyz yesterday." He just doesn't know when to shut up. People think Geto is a very quiet and kept to himself kind of person but when he knows you he will not stop talking shit.

Toji

There are so many things I could say but the worst of them all is the fact that he will wear the same pair of underwear more than twice. "Toji... are those the same fucking boxers you had on Thursday?" You can see the hem line of his boxers and it looks like the same pair from Thursday. He sets down his cup, "Uh, probably. What's today?" ... "IT'S SUNDAY. JUST WASH YOUR CLOTHES!"

Nanami

He's overbearing with tasks. He forgets that you know how to do things and will bug you until he knows you've done them. "Don't forget to take your car to get an oil change soon." You nod.

A few hours later when he returns home, "Have you gone down to get the oil ch-"

"Kento! The love of my life. I know. I'm going tomorrow." ... "Oh, okay. I'm sorry."

Nobara

Leaves her plate/bowl/etc on the table. You've reminded her on multiple occasions that she needs to do it but she just forgets. "Food was great!" She yells with a smile. In no time she's up from the table sprinting to the living room. "Nobara.. your plate." She freezes, "Oh shit right. I'll get it!"

Maki

She snores. It's not the cute kind either, it's the loud obnoxious kind that prevents you from sleeping. You've tried to get her to change her sleeping posture and find other ways to help but it does. not. matter. By the end of the night she will be holding you close. Your back pressed against her front and loud snores ringing in your ear.

Inumaki

Never gives you any kind of warning when he's going to fart he just does it. HE KNOWS they're a lethal weapon but finds it funny whenever you're screaming at him and gasping for air. God forbid he ever farts while you two are in bed because a dutch oven from him is probably enough to kill you.

Shoko

She laughs whenever you trip or get hurt in any kind of way. She doesn't even mean it she just does it. Like say she sees that the pavement is uneven she doesn't say anything and watches you trip, just to laugh about it. "Okay okay okay, I'm so *giggle* sorry. I should have said something, let me help you up."

Sukuna

Thinks because he's lived for a long time he knows everything and then he gets mad when, "This stupid little talking box won't work." (his phone) "This shit is broken again." He complains throwing it to you. "Dude.. it's powered off. 'Mr. I Know Everything.'" He rolls his eyes at you, "I do know everything you shit for brains." You scoff, "See if I ever help you turn on your 'talking box' again."

Choso

He's always second guessing you. He doesn't even realize it either. The two of you will be driving and he's like, "Are you sure you know where we're going? Should I pull up GPS." YOU KNOW WHERE YOU'RE GOING CHILL. He's just really cautious though which is why he asks a million times.

[supercutszns]

bitter to the taste; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc + pairing: 5.5k, luke castellan x f!reader

synopsis: a sharp blade, a black eye, and (more than) two kisses.

warnings: this is even sluttier than the last one, language, sword fighting, sharp objects, blood/injuries, reader is still a horrible person and so is luke but he's also a loooser, making out, allusions/mentions of sex but no super explicit descriptions, kind of fluffy at the end

notes: i’m starting to hate this bc i think i’ve been staring at it too long sorry if this is not as good as pt.1 but i have plans for this series ok. also READER AND LUKE ARE NOT GOOD PEOPLE!!! THEIR RELATIONSHIP WILL NOT ALWAYS BE GOOD!!! THEY SUCK!! they are also not real but keep that in mind :) synopsis inspired by crush by ethel cain; designated song for this fic is unpunishable by ethel cain (i’ve got a whole chronological playlist for these freaks like it’s serious)

You’ve always had a taste for violence. And an equally powerful penchant for sloth. 

You prefer to watch the carnage, not participate. It satisfies something inside you that you know, if it wasn’t for your laziness, could cause something irrevocable. Who the hell has time for that?. You’d rather lie back and watch instead.

This flaw of yours is the only reason you haven’t stirred more trouble, you think. It’s the reason you never attend camp games or sparring lessons. Sometimes, when you do, a dark muscle flexes inside your heart to curl out of its slumber, forming a hunger you don’t have otherwise. The second it starts to pry you have to rear yourself back and tuck the monster in. Banish the need for something more.

You don’t want to feed it. You don’t know what happens if you do. So you let other people do the feeding for you.

Luke cuts through two dummy heads in one swoop. It’s fucking gorgeous. The moon reflects off his sword, a silver sheen casting his face when he’s in the right spot. His brows are set, eyes so dark they blend with the night. Every motion is ruthless. Satisfying. 

You don’t know how many times you’ve watched him like this. He called you out for it last night, but you’re sure he doesn’t know the half of it. The shadows are a sacred cloak to you, and you wait inside them until you want your presence known. 

Meet me tomorrow. 

It runs through your head like a broken record. You can still feel his breath on your lips and your neck is still tender—had to wear a sweater in the blazing heat to hide the marks. Since you were created you’ve accepted a universal truth about yourself: you don’t harbour affection for anyone or anything. There’s not a single thing you’ve felt drawn to or protective over but yourself. It’s solitary, yes, and lonely, yes, but that’s the way you’re supposed to be. 

But you think about last night. You think about the moments between the kisses and the rush. When he teased you against your ear. When his hand brushed a certain spot on your back and something much lighter fluttered inside of you. When you crawled into sleep and thought about him, those were the moments that struck you the strangest. 

His gaze pans over the treeline every once in a while, the anger diluted. Then it comes back twice as hard as he shreds another dummy to pieces. 

He’s waiting for you. Oh, this is rich! A better person would probably turn around and go spoon their offerings into the bonfire the second they understand what they’re doing is incredibly destructive. But who are we kidding? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. 

So you take a step forward, slip out of the comfort of the dark, and the next time he looks to the treeline he knows you’re there. He can’t see you, but he knows. 

You wait. His strikes are less tenuous, much smoother. It almost makes you laugh. Some fucking showman he is. 

Eventually, he buries his blade in the dirt and wipes his brow. “Are you gonna come talk to me or are you gonna stare at me all night like an owl?”

You relish in the feeling of shedding the darkness, coming into the light of the moon. “Hi,” you say flatly, but there’s a tiny smile on his face when he sees you that almost puts you off. 

“Hello, rotten.” He tries to lean on the hilt of his sword but it isn’t quite tall enough so he stumbles. It’s so pathetic it almost makes you laugh. 

“Don’t call me that,” you grimace.

“Okay, back to heathen?”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Well, you don’t seem too happy when people call you by your name so pick your poison here.” 

You don’t say anything, your mouth set in a scowl. “All right, both it is,” Luke shrugs.

He’s different from last night. Less impatient. You hope it’s not because he thinks he has you now—he’s got another thing coming. “I almost thought you weren’t gonna come,” he says with a crooked grin, neither bashful nor ashamed. 

You’ve made your way closer to him, the soft grass turning to dusty earth. “Don’t know why I did,” you mutter crassly. 

Having abandoned his sword, Luke chuckles wryly. “Yes, you do.”

That bitterness he hides from everyone else pierces through. He tilts your face up like he did yesterday, the press of his fingers beneath your chin almost burning you. You know he’s peering at the marks on your neck. 

“If you made me come here just to hook up with me you’re delusional,” you glare. 

“What, like that’s not why you’re here?” He pushes your face up a little higher, grinning a little when you add resistance. “I’m a gentleman, you know. I can be patient.”

This guy is full of fucking shit.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you snipe. The only point of contact you have is his hand on your chin, but you’re a hair’s breadth away from having everything else. The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you.

He keeps your face still. He’s studying you, and you’re suddenly curious about what he sees. You remember all those looks you’d share at the dinner tables that made this happen in the first place. What did he see then? 

“You wanna fight?”

It takes you a second to react. “What?”

“You want to fight. Pick up a sword, let’s go.” He smiles as he finally lets you go, waltzing away from you to unbury his sword from the dirt. His touch permeates through your skin and you hate it. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I can’t fight.”

“Sure you can,” he replies, grabbing another sword from the training rack. “You need to burn off a little steam.”

You laugh sharply. “And you think me waving a sword around is gonna do that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he grins. “It’s the method that lets us keep the most clothes on.” 

You glare at him. His smirk is a mile wide. The way your stomach is simmering almost makes you sick; it’s like gorging yourself on candy except this time the candy has a sword and maybe wants to fuck you. 

You just watch as he hands you his sword, and the moonlight glinting off the metal has you believing it’s not the kind used for training. “I’ll use the dull one,” he assures. “C’mon, heathen. I know you’ve used a sword before, they force us to.”

“I usually skip those classes.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if it’s at you or with you. “Of course you do.”

You don’t like following orders, but oh, what the hell. Luke knows something about you, just like you know something about him. You’re only a little curious about it. 

“Straighten your back,” is the first thing he says once you’ve taken your stance across from him. The blunt of his sword reaches out to tap your hip. 

You begrudgingly do as you’re told. He watches you mirthfully, and the press of his sword against you starts to feel like a substitute for his hand. All the closeness you’re hungry for, dampened by cold steel. It still makes you buzz. 

He gives you the barebones—the right grip, how to maneuver, the proper balance. But long gone is his easy disposition. The motor inside him that powered all those dummy beheadings and disembowelments is running again, except this time it’s for you. He wants a fight. This is his battlefield. All right, you’ll bite.

You start to spar with the skill of an overgrown toddler. The sword feels like an unnatural ligament hanging off your body. Luke is precise, convicting, far more enthusiastic than you. “You can do better than that,” he prods after your swords clash lazily for the billionth time. “Stop going easy.”

“You’re going easy,” you shoot back. 

“Yeah, but I’d really rather not. Come on.” 

There’s a moment of hesitation. You think about that dark thing you keep harboured. A muscle aching to be used. 

“Come on,” he says again, and he almost sounds pissed. “All of a sudden you’re playing nice? What are you afraid of?”

Something flares inside you. “Nothing!”

“Then pick up the sword and fight me.”

You huff and roll your eyes, but your next swing is far more inspired. Luke blocks it easily, but you don’t care. “There we go,” he nods. “Again.”

This is more than you bargained for when you decided to come see him. All you want is to make out with this hot, awful person and have him tell you hot, awful things about yourself you probably already know. Why do you have to fight to get it? 

He keeps provoking you no matter how hard you try. Your temper picks up the more you swing, discordant clangs bruising the air, but it’s still not enough. Luke doesn’t let up. Of course the one time you try to be nice, you’re not allowed to. On second thought, why are you reigning yourself in for Luke? The only other person in camp with a real, consuming viciousness? If anything you should hit him twice as hard, since he’s so sure he can take it. 

“No wonder you’re so angry all the time,” Luke heaves out, and it gives you a swell of satisfaction. “You don’t have a proper outlet. Maybe you’d be nicer if you didn’t sit around and complain all day.”

“Shut up,” you gnash your teeth. 

“Just saying, maybe you should do something about it.”

You’re getting lost in the rhythm of the swords, the adrenaline, the sweat passing the scar on his cheek. Every swing you think less and less, and that dark muscle flexes more and more. It feels like home to you. Like a good meal. Your bones ache and the world has darkened, but that rotten pit inside you cracks open in full bloom. 

Luke keeps egging you on but you can’t hear him. Not like he still needs to. You think you’re smiling, or huffing furiously, or both. The sharpness of the sword intrigues you. A million terrible things reflect off its blade and you imagine them, all at once, until you are out of your body and the black hole inside you has properly wedged itself open. 

Luke jabs at you and you bring your sword down with a vengeance. But it’s a little too low. You only notice when he drops his weapon to the side and staggers back.

The fog of violence falters. It fades almost completely when he hisses long and hard, eyes screwed shut, and you see the tear in his shirt. In his skin. 

“Shit,” you say. “Fuck.”

You don’t sound sorry, you don’t think you are sorry, especially when he laughs. It’s a wheezy one through his teeth as you come up to him, but a laugh nonetheless. “Knew you were going easy,” he remarks through a wince. 

You ignore him, looking down at the injury. A  gash across his abdomen. It’s bleeding a little, but not enough for it to drip. You did that. Just looking at the blood, you feel the bitter taste of it in your mouth, the reward a temporary hunger for carnage brought you. This is why you don’t play camp games. 

“I’ve got thick skin. I’m fine,” Luke says casually. “I’ve got a medical kit under that tree over there in case I beat myself up too bad.” He’s no longer scrunched in pain, and you’ve got a feeling he’s telling the truth. So you go fetch the kit where he said it was. You need to wrap that slash. Not because you’re sorry for him, but because looking at it makes you angry. 

You kneel and pop the lid of the small tin kit, covered in dirt. It’s mostly gauze and bandages. Rubbing alcohol too. “Just give me the gauze, that’s all I need,” Luke gestures. 

“Shut the fuck up, I’m doing it myself.” You’ve already torn off some gauze, sitting all the way up on your knees. 

“Most people just say sorry.”

“You pushed me,” you spit back, surprisingly forceful. Luke’s smile drops. You take a deep breath, adjusting yourself to get eye level with the injury. “I told you I don’t fight.”

You’re not sure what makes Luke give in, but he doesn’t say a word as you lift the hem of his torn shirt and he holds it up. There’s no proud remark about your eyes lingering on his stomach, or the hesitation in your hands. You stare at the wound. It really is shallow. Your thumb presses at the skin around it and he winces. “My bad,” you mutter. 

As you sterilize the cut and wrap the gauze around his torso, you try not to let your fingertips cling to the warmth on his skin. You try not to notice the other scars littered there, most faded to the point they should be impossible to pick up even in the sun. It’s obvious he’s staring at you. Your neck is crawling with warmth. But you don’t engage, you just wrap the gauze a few times and do your best not to notice the rise and fall beneath his muscles as he breathes. Then you fasten things neatly and put everything away so you can get up. Any second. Come on. 

“Good?” You ask instead, exhaling. 

“Good,” he affirms. He slides a hand under your forearm and gets you up. It stays there once you’re standing. The night stills. 

“I’m guessing you’re adding ‘attempted killer’ to your list of horrible qualities,” you go on to break the silence.

He holds your gaze unyieldingly. “I’d consider that a pro, actually.” 

You are entirely fed up with this drawn out evening, but you can’t bring yourself to speed anything up any more than stepping closer so your chests brush. “I will give you one, though,” he continues, craning down to your ear. You smell his skin and it sends you back to the position you were in yesterday. 

He finally kisses your jaw, just once, then your neck. You shiver. “You’re too tense.” Another kiss behind your ear. It’s not enough. “Do you even know how to have fun?”

“I don’t want to have fun,” you reply bitterly. I just want to make out with you, asshat.

Luke’s breath frosts over your face when he chuckles, but before he can get any further away you catch his mouth with yours. Almost instinctively his arm winds around you to pull you in closer, your hand looping through his curls. It's a relief, knowing last night wasn't some freak accident. This does feel good, actually, and it can happen. Everything you felt yesterday is only more urgent now, hungrier, and you're pretty sure the way you kiss him gives that away.

He indulges you, squeezing the base of your hips as his other hand thumbs across the marks on your neck. This is so fucking embarassing—you think you whine when he bites down on your bottom lip. You’ve never needed something this bad, you’ve never needed anything. But you press yourself as close to him as you can manage and his hand runs lower, slips against your inner thighs, and it’s difficult to worry about anything else. 

Until he pulls away. Like a dick. 

He doesn’t go far, his forehead pressed to yours, but you feel like pulling out all his hair. It’s a muddling mix of frustration and longing you’re starting to associate with him. “Dude,” you groan, an inner coil only starting to unwind begrudgingly compressing. 

“Let’s go for a swim,” he says. The enthusiasm is almost alarming. Almost makes him look younger.

You’re homicidal. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes, heathen. Let’s go for a swim, come on.”

He’s rubbing circles on your thigh, which only makes you want to strangle him. “But I—I don’t have my bathing suit,” you string out. 

The smile gets more boyish. “Wow, whatever shall we do?”

It’s another challenge. Another dare. And he knows what you want, fucking jerk. You’re going to kill him. 

“Fine,” you grunt, and the second the words leave your lips you’re pulled to the lake. 

It’s a warm, sticky evening, only made worse with the sweat and the half-assed kissing, so the water doesn’t seem all that bad. Unfortunately, you don’t like giving into demands. So you stare ghoulishly at your fingernails as Luke tosses off his ripped shirt and his shorts so he can plunge into the lake. “Aren’t you going to at least come in?” He asks, but you don’t look at him. 

“I don’t like swimming,” you lie. 

“At least your feet. It’s nice, I swear!”

A splash, like smoke moving through wind chimes. You look up and Luke has completely submerged, popping his head up closer to the mouth of the dock. “Please,” he says with such conviction your resolve turns to butter. Gods, what is happening to you? You still need that lobotomy! 

You sigh, roll your eyes, turn your back to him. “Fuck this,” you mutter under your breath. You undress to your undergarments and you’re not sure if you want Luke to be watching or not. The moon touches your bare skin and a chill trickles through you. 

You take a seat at the edge of the dock, knees tucked to your chest. Luke swims over for you right away. His hair is dripping against his skin, and you hate how beautiful it looks. The waterline is high tonight, almost ridiculously so, so he props his elbows up on the dock with no problem. “Come in,” he urges. 

“No.”

“Just your legs?”

“No.”

“Gods, I’ll make it worth it, just throw your damn legs in!” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. His face is stubbornly pink. Oh, so now he wants something. You take your time uncurling yourself and Luke wades away from the dock so you can put your feet in. The water goes up to your calves, and you shiver. “So fucking difficult,” he mutters, and your pulse flickers. 

“Sorry, what was that?” You let yourself grin for the first time all night. 

“Nothing,” he hums. This time when he comes to the dock, he wraps his hands around your calves. You’re pretty sure he can stand here because he stops treading. The warmth of the water seems to spread further, long past the threshold of your knees. 

He rests his chin just above your knee, water pooling on your skin. “Stop dripping on me,” you complain. 

“Sorry.” He fake pouts when he kisses the damp spot. You see, ever so faintly, a diabolic shift in his expression. He nudges your leg with the point of his nose, then kisses it, then starts to move it aside. “Feel bad about teasing you all night,” he murmurs, still with an edge. He presses more kisses on your legs. “I really did want to see you.”

The irony that he’s still teasing is not lost on you. You’re not loving how desperately warm you’re starting to feel. “Why’s that?” You lean back on your palms. 

“You’re a very interesting person,” he quips innocently. His hands are cupping the backs of your calves. He’s pulled you a lot closer to the water, and somehow you’ve just noticed. Another blistering kiss on the inside of your thigh. 

“You’re fucking evil,” you scathe. 

He looks up at you from between your legs. “You have literally done nothing but berate and injure me this whole evening.”

“Yeah, and right after I patch you up you jump in the water for shits. You’re playing infection roulette, Castellan.”

“See? You’re so mean.” He sighs, and in a move that almost surprises you to death, he hoists both your legs over his shoulders and they dangle into the river behind him. “And here I am anyway, making it up to you.”

You are suddenly illuminated on the purpose of this situation. Why Luke is between your legs. Your heart jolts. “Luke, you can’t be serious.” 

“Mmhm.” He leans forward to kiss right under your navel. 

You hate how much you want him to do it again, how your body burns, but you avert your eyes. “Someone’s gonna—someone’s gonna hear us.”

He snorts, “No they won’t. Either this or you come in the water with me. Or both. We’ll see.”

A huge smile cracks across your face before you push it back down. You’re going to spend a lot of time coming back to this moment, this night, wondering why. “What is wrong with you.”

It comes out like a compliment when it leaves you. You want to vanish. Luke chuckles, and something foreign to the both of you buzzes through the air. 

“Are you going to be nice?” He asks against your skin. 

“Are you going to be quick?”

His mouth finds your hip bones and yeah, why the hell would you say no to this? He nods, “Swear.” 

That’s all you need. You let your eyes slide shut and your head tilts towards the sky. Luke takes your permission and runs with it, pries you open with his mouth until the stars soak through the black of your eyelids. 

You discover pretty quickly neither of you are good at keeping promises. 

The next time you need Luke’s med kit, he’s already awake. 

It’s been happening more and more often. You lurking around camp past moonrise and finding Luke outside his cabin, going for a walk or a stretch or a … something with you. 

“Do you ever sleep?” You ask him sometimes between flurries of kisses with your back against a tree. 

“Could ask you the same thing, heathen,” he squeezes your hips and nips at your neck, but never answers the question. And neither do you, so you’re both okay with it. You’d hate to give up this feeling, but he doesn’t need to know that.

This is the first time in your punitive life you have felt alive. Like a person, with bones and flesh and soul, a real presence. Not a ghost of smoke and shadow. You are real. 

Fooling around makes you feel like an actual teenager. You’re young, you remember when Luke joins you in the dark. You’re having fun. His hands under your shirt and his mouth on your collarbone, the way he bites down and winces when you do something a little too well, when you string out his name and he rewards you for it. You’re both greedy, insatiable people, so there’s a push and pull only the two of you would ever be able to handle. And nobody has to know. Despite all the bruises, the sleepless nights, the swollen lips, all you and Luke share in the daylight are noxious looks, and that's only if he can find you. A perfect crime. Camp Half-Blood’s angel and the vice that lives in the shadows. But in the dark, it’s hard to tell which is which. 

“Luke,” you whisper. “Luke.”

“I’m up,” he grumbles, peering up at you. “You shouldn’t sneak into my cabin.” He was already sitting up in his bed when you slipped in, and he didn’t notice you were there till you were right in front of him.

“Worried someone will catch me? You should know better.” 

He follows you outside so you don’t wake the other campers. There’s a thrill knowing just one interaction between the two of you could ruin both your reputations forever. 

“What is it, heathen?” He asks as the door closes behind him. It’s so dark and your back is turned to him, but his voice is drenched in smugness. “You don’t usually want to put up with me more than once a night.”

“Don’t have a choice,” you mutter, staring out at the camp. You go to chew on your bottom lip, but you wince immediately. “Where’s your kit thingy? The one we used after I impaled you.” 

“You mean after you lightly grazed me?” 

“Just tell me where it is, Luke.”

Your sharpness could cut through any sleepy daze he possibly has. He’s silent behind you for a second. “Why?” He asks.

“Because I need it.”

His hand curls around your shoulder and before you can think to submerge yourself in darkness, he turns you around. When he sees you, his face breaks from something proud to something … you’re not sure you like. “Oh, heathen,” he murmurs. “What happened to you?”

You guess it’s a semi-appropriate reaction, although you expected at least a grimace. To put it lightly, your face looks gnarly as fuck. There’s a bruise on your cheekbone and your lip is split. But what really draws attention is the half-formed, garish black eye swelling up your right side. 

“Just the usual. Pissed someone off.” It hurts the skin on your lip that’s caked with blood. 

He rests his thumb on your unbruised cheek, but somehow it still stings. You know he can’t see much of you in the dark but he tries. The prolonged eye contact without the imminent promise of a kiss feels foreign. “You need to go to the Apollo cabin,” he concludes, brows pushed together. 

A laugh slips past your broken lips. “No fucking shot. They would not help me.”

“Why not?”

“Because one of their shit-eaters did this!”

The words take a moment to register. You see them filtering through Luke’s brain. He blinks absurdly. “An Apollo guy beat you up?”

“Not beat up. Just … tussled.”

“How much tussling earns you a black eye, exactly? From Apollo kids.”

“Gods, just tell me where your kit is so you can go back to fucking sleep.”

His fingertips inch around the back of your neck, thumb still against your face. “Already wasn’t sleeping. I might as well help you,” he shrugs. “I move the kit every once in a while so some other campers don’t ravage it.”

“I don’t need help.”

Luke opens his mouth, then sighs deeply. He takes a firm hold of your arm and starts to tug you along. “Hey, what—” you swat at his arm. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. “Come on.”

It’s strange. Luke’s never done you a favour before. At least not one like this. You’re disgruntled enough that you had to go ask him in the first place and now he’s dragging you around? “This isn’t such a big deal, Luke,” you badger. “I’m fine.”

“Sure, whatever. Wait right here.” He lets go of you and only then you realize you’re in front of the Apollo cabin. You grimace, and Luke must have noticed because he says, “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna go inside and grab some things. No one’s gonna jump you.”

You scowl at him, and he just laughs. A part of you hopes he hits his head on the way in. You hide anyway. 

It’s a few minutes of waiting in the oppressive summer heat, until Luke emerges from the cabin with his hands full. He looks around, hesitantly calling, “Heathen?” Then again. You move out of your hiding spot and he jogs over to greet you. 

“Nice haul,” you comment. There’s an ice pack, cotton pads, a few miscellaneous items. “How’d you get them?”

He smiles widely. “Everyone loves me, heathen. It’s not hard.”

“…So you stole them.”

“Yes, but only because I’m too tired to talk to people and I’m protesting for your sake,” he rattles off. “Now hold this ice pack before it gives me frostbite.”

The two of you make your way down to the docks again. It’s morphed into your usual meeting place, since the waves lapping at the shore mask when Luke gets a little too noisy just to piss you off. (At least that’s what he tells you.)

He’s stashed his little tin in a different tree this time. After he retrieves it he sets everything out like a chef preparing to make a meal out of gauze and rubbing alcohol. 

Your head has been throbbing for the past few hours. You’re not proud that you antagonized the wrong Apollo kid and got a shiner for it. You’re less proud that you came to Luke for help. Just like everyone else does.

“Come,” he gestures, tugging at the waistband of your pants. You scoot closer to him and swallow the weight of your pulse when he touches you. 

Luke slowly presses the ice pack to your black eye, letting you hold it. “What did you do to earn this, anyway?” He asks, head tilted to the side. 

You’re hissing because of the ice, half-consciously shifting into him. “The usual. Spat at him. Made fun of his daddy a little too much. Tripped him so he landed face-first in his offerings.”

“You did not,” Luke laments as he dots alcohol onto a cotton pad. 

“You’re allowed to say you’re proud of me, Saint Castellan. I won’t tell. You can be mean.” Your voice drips with irony, and you hope it bothers him. The flex in his jaw gives it away. 

“You’re always gonna be meaner,” is all he says back. “This is gonna hurt.”

It’s all the warning he gives before he presses the pad against your lip. The sting envelops you immediately, and your good eye squeezes shut. “Shit, ow!” 

“Stop moving your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you swear anyway. Your lip burns so hard you can feel it in your teeth. 

Luke holds your jaw with his other hand so you can’t shy away. “I’ll kiss it better,” he teases. “Almost done.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke takes the pad off a few moments later. “Serious question. How are you so awful to people all the time?”

A groan tears through your throat with such force your head tilts back. “Not you too! I don’t need a fucking reason, there is no reason. Why doesn’t anyone get that?” 

“I’m not asking why. I’m asking how.”

He’s oddly serious, the caress of his thumb on your cheek far slower. You hate it when people want a reason why you’re like this, just to help them sleep at night. But from the bags lining Luke’s eyes, sleep doesn’t seem to be on his radar. 

“I just don’t care,” you admit, shrugging. “I don’t care about any of them. I don’t care about what they can do to me. I don’t care about anything.”

“…What about the Gods?”

It makes you cock your head. “Huh?”

“You wouldn’t care about them, either?”

You think, but only about which words to use. “No,” you decide, “They don’t scare me. They’re nothing. What are they gonna do to me?”

Luke snorts, almost nervously. “Uh, punish you for saying that, for one.”

You turn back to him, ice pack leaving your eye as you gesture. “How? By killing me? Pecking out my eyeballs? Burning me alive? I’m telling you, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. It’s all just nothing to me. I’m fucking unpunishable, I’d like to see them try.” 

Huffing, you look back up at the firmament of stars. Luke says nothing. 

The grass rustles as he shifts, and his mouth ghosts over the bruise on your eye. “Unpunishable,” he murmurs, like he’s testing it out. Then he places an uncharacteristically gentle kiss just beneath your eye. And another just above. “We’ll see about that.”

You get that feeling again, the unbearable lightness in a place it shouldn’t be. Mixed with the poison lodged in your heart. 

Luke kisses you, still so delicate that you wonder if he’s been body-snatched. If anything, your bleeding lip feels soothed against his. His hands cradle your face with no ferocity at all. It seems wrong. 

“How do you feel?” He asks after pulling away, dark eyes nebulous and wide. The night usually sharpens his features. Now, they’ve been hushed.

“Um, better,” you reply. 

He hums, laying a slow trail of kisses on your jaw. “Did you at least get the other guy?” He asks between kisses. “Like, did you hurt him?”

“Not really,” you divulge, wondering if you should feel shame. 

“Why?” He’s made his way to your neck now, nudging your jaw up so he can kiss behind your ear. 

“I’m not a fighter.” And, without warning, for a reason you will never, ever be able to explain, your tongue adds, “I’m a killer.”

Your own brows furrow. Luke pauses for a moment, but knocks his nose against your neck. “Guess one of us has to be.”

There’s no more fooling around. No snappy insults, no feverish kisses, no hunger to be satiated. Luke just checks you over a few more times, hides his med kit, and you both get up to sleep. But his hand wraps around your wrist, far less firm than when he dragged you here. “Stay in my bunk, heathen,” he offers. “Leave in the morning.”

You think you’re making a mistake when you agree, but it doesn’t feel like one. 

The next day, after you’ve left Luke’s bunk, rumours float around camp that Luke Castellan accidentally butted some Apollo kid in the face with his sword during training. Caused a bloody, broken nose. Luke was very sorry, apologized profusely. 

But you know, by the way he takes you behind the stables that night, that he didn’t mean a single damn word.

luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz

rotten taglist: @thaliagracesgf

leave a pm/comment/ask if you'd like to be added to a taglist :)

[sttoru]

I was listening to 7 rings earlier and saw that post and my head immediately went to older bf suguru or satoru 😋

why not both hehe

tags; older bf!satoru/suguru x female reader (seperately). age gap (reader early 20’s, them early 30’s). suggestive. cult leader suguru yum. reader is depicted as innocent. nicknames ‘princess, sweetheart’.

GOJO SATORU

“satoru, are you. . sure? i mean it’s a lot of money and stuff,” you pout at your lover as he sits down on the comfortable chair in front of the fitting rooms. you’ve tried out a couple things by now—all which satoru has approved of. he recommends you to buy them all, but you’d feel guilty for agreeing. it’ll cost him a fortune.

satoru chuckles and leans back, manspreading with his hands limply resting on his thighs. he looks you up and down without an ounce of shame, “mhm. i’m completely serious when i’m telling ya to get ‘em all, princess.”

your shopping bags are piling up more and more. satoru bought you all the things you said you liked. or if he thinks a piece of clothing suits you nicely, he takes the initiative to buy it. the older man doesn’t look twice when handing the employee his black card.

“c’mere,” satoru gestures for you to come closer once the employee leaves to pack your purchases. he pulls you onto his lap the moment you’re close enough.

his hands run up and down your curves—feeling up the material of the dress you’re currently wearing. the sorcerer cannot wait until you’re home with him. he’ll have you give him a special fashion show with all the pretty lingerie he bought you.

satoru grins at the thought. your little squirms and whines of being ‘too sensitive’ makes him want to tease you even more. he doesn’t care if he’s in public or if anyone sees you; you’re all he focuses on.

“i jus’ wanna spoil my sweet girl—take care of her like she deserves,” the white-haired sorcerer whispers. a lingering kiss on your shoulder makes your breath hitch. he chuckles at your adorable reaction.

satoru holds you down on his thighs, hands firmly placed on your waist whilst he leaves kisses on your exposed skin. he’s got all the money and time in the world—all which he’s spending on his lovely girl.

“everything is yours. tell me what you want and i’ll buy it for you, baby. there’s no limit, ‘kay?”

GETO SUGURU

gentle fingers play with the strands of your hair. you lean into the touch, not really caring that people are staring right at you and your lover.

“your hair looks gorgeous like this, sweetheart,” suguru smiles sweetly. his legs are trapping you against him. your back and his chest touch—your head leaning on his shoulder. he’s completely got you under his spell with the way he’s holding you.

suguru had given you his card earlier and told you to spend it however you see fit. he would have gone shopping with you, though he unfortunately has to help a couple people who swear that they’re cursed.

he was still busy when you returned from your little trip. you didn’t want to bother him when he was working, but suguru excitedly invited you into the room once he spotted you. he wasted no time settling you on his lap and asking you all about your recent purchases.

“s-sir, could you please respond?” the shaky voice of a man snaps you out of your bubble. your gaze moves towards the poor citizen who’s groveling before suguru, the clear presence of a curse gnawing at his back.

suguru’s sweet attitude drops the moment that lowlife interrupted his time with you. his eyes darken and his grip on your hand tightens, showing just how much he’s holding back from murdering that man in cold blood.

he doesn’t want to scare you—no, he’d never kill someone in front of your eyes. he doesn’t want to taint your innocence like that.

“silence,” suguru’s sharp voice causes the man to shriek before he quiets down. a second passes before you feel your lover’s hand on your jaw, guiding your face back to his. the tender look in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips instantly returns.

suguru’s other hand slowly traces the diamond necklace around your neck, “where were we again. . . ah, yes—tell me what else you got, darling. i want to hear it all.”

[biteyoubiteme]

melon float

yeonjun x fem!reader

synopsis: a picnic in the park is always fun with your boyfriend

warnings: 🔞!!! semipublic/public sex, oral (f!rec), no protection, creampie, breeding kink if you squint kinda, Yeonjun calls reader baby once or twice, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.9k

an: feedback is appreciated!! this is apart of my float event! check out the other members fics [float m.list]

[m.list]

Yeonjun had been so excited this morning, for over a week he had been planning your next date, picking out every detail. He had gotten up early to get all your food ready, making sure to keep you out of the kitchen to keep the surprise up. “you should get ready I have this handled, maybe you could wear that pretty white dress you just got,” so you complied dressing up and after he was ready you hopped into the car asking him to reveal where you were going.

“to eat out,” was all he gave you to work with, hand on your thigh as he drove.

when you got to the park you knew he was taking you on a picnic. The past couple of days were too unbearable to be outside in the sun but the forecast had shown a few days of cooler mornings with partly cloudy skies. the two of you had been locked up in your apartment sticking to waiting until it was late to go out even when it still felt hot without the sun. you had complained about the heat and not being able to really enjoy the summertime. Now he's gone and found the perfect spot for a picnic, a little secluded patch of grass, the hanging trees giving peaks of the little stream they rest next to. you can hear the twittering birds, and the rambel of water, all of it the perfect soundtrack to summer.

everything had started innocently enough, Yeonjun set up the blanket for the two of you and unpacked his little basket of prepped foods. he had taken the time to cut all the fruit up into cute little shapes, some of them rough around the edges but his clumsiness only ever made the effort so thoughtful. he set up all the little things around to make them look put together to take a photo. “smile,” his little happy grin behind the camera making you blush. “look at how pretty you are,” he flipped his phone towards you to look at, “I'm going to make it my lockscreen,”

“Wait, you can see my underwear in this photo,” you laugh, zooming in on your panties to prove your point. your legs had been up, knees closed as you leaned back on your hands showing your cute outfit. you hadn't noticed how your dress had slipped down your thigh, low enough to show the lacy fabric.

“My favorite ones too,” he states, “they look so good on you, even better off,” the little grin he has is wicked enough to know exactly where his mind is going.

“you can wait until we get home to give me flirty looks like that,”

“I really can’t do that at all,” he looks around at the empty space we are in, “No one really comes around here anyways and we are blocked by all the trees…”

even just the idea of doing anything out in public was a little bit hot to you. Yeonjun was fully into pda, he loved to show you off, hand in the back pocket of your jeans, making out at the club like you'll never get the chance to kiss again, nay excuses to put his hands on you to let people know you were his and his alone. he wasn't shy when it came to people watching the two of you, if you let him he would stick his hand up your skirt in the back of a cab so this wasn't so different for you two. so he didn’t even have to ask for you to know what he wanted now.

“you don’t think anyone will catch us?” you ask but you don’t need to answer because even if there was a possibility of getting caught Yeonjun wouldn't admit it outright but he wouldn't let the two of you go far enough without caution. you stand up and trying not to lift your dress too much you hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties pulling them down. Yeonjun is fast to lean over so that he can help take them off fully, balling them up and tossing them over to the basket half-open behind him.

he slides his hands up the back of your thighs, sitting criss cross in front of you looking up like he found everything he's been missing. he's grinning as he cups your ass, pulling you closer to him, chin on your thigh. “I thought those were your favorite?” you brush his hair behind his ears.

“On the list of my favorite things, they come second to what's standing in front of me. no need to admire them when I could admire you,”

you roll your eyes but even if he was cheesy it always got you. He was rubbing up and down the back of your legs, fingers slipping to your inner thighs making you shiver. every drag of his fingers getting closer and closer to your center. “you know what?”

“hum?” you hummed the tips of his fingers only just grazing over your folds.

“I think I’m starving,” he pulls you back down to the blanket, your laugh cut off by his kiss. hands moving to your waist, body pressing you into the blanket. when he pulls away he keeps his mouth on you, lips down your jaw, down your neck. “and I just happened to bring my favorite meal,”

he lays himself down between your legs lifting the hem of your skirt peeking under to see how wet you've gotten for him. Since you’ve gotten together it was so easy to get wet from a few kisses, for him to look at you the right way and he would just know if he reached down to check he could slip in without any prep.

“You said earlier we were going to eat out, not this,” you’re sitting up on your elbows watching and Yeonjun is giving you a cocky smile, tongue running along the inside of his lip as he shrugs. “You must have misheard me, I was trying to say I wanted to eat you out,” pushing your dress up and bunching it at your hips he leans down blowing over your clit, your knees pulling in at the cool air.

“don’t tease me,” you whine but you don’t expect him to listen, he was always a tease, drawing out your pleasure like it was a test he knew he would pass with flying colors. but there was no time when someone could walk by secluded as the spot was or not Yeonjun didn’t need anyone else to see you falling apart on his tongue namely because he didn’t want to be interrupted. he licked up your wetness, circling your clit before giving precise controlled flicks of his tongue. your head rolls back and you bite your lip to keep quiet only it's harder than you thought when he starts to suck on your clit.

your knees try to pull together and he has to push them back apart, ravaging your cunt, swirling his tongue over and over. He had full control over your body pulling your orgasm from you slowly until you were combusting. hips sinking, hands fisting the blanket, your moans were not silent anymore as you fluttered around nothing, Yeonjun pulling away to let you calm down from your high. but you didn’t feel satiated, not when you felt so empty, it was almost painful. “please jjunie,” you whined sitting up.

“hum? Does my pretty girl need to be stuffed,” knowing exactly what you wanted. he was hard as he sat up, unbuttoning his jeans, “come here,”

you didn’t need to be told twice, crawling over to him before straddling his waist, sensitive clit rubbing over his bulge making the both of you moan. you didn’t even hold yourself back as you started to grind down on him, your arms wrapping around his neck and fingers tangling into his hair. He grabbed your waist trying to still you, “Hold on baby I won't last like that,” he pulled his cock free from his last layer of fabric. you were already clenching at the sight, watching as he gave two slow pumps, thumb running over the tip collecting his precum to spread around the veiny shaft.

you sat up on your knees lifting as he used one hand to guide himself in and the other to hold your dress up. your soft whine turned into a throaty moan as he sank into you, slow to inch as he stretched you open. when you were fully seated the both of you caught your breath, your dress falling from his hands before he pushed your hair away from your face. “you’re so pretty when you sit so well on my cock,” he could feel you pulse around him at his praise, gummy walls warm enough to make him weak. he pulls you in for a kiss on hand at the base of your neck, the other on your hip helping you rock forward on him.

finding a rhyme the both of you melt together, your drawn-out movements deepening your kiss. pressed so deep inside you, you swear you can feel him in your throat, every movement brushing him against your g-spot, knees weak from the feeling. tugging on your hair he leans your head back to expose more of your neck, kissing down the column of your throat and to your exposed cleavage he nips over your skin.

you can feel your second orgasm build aided by the way your clit is rubbing against him but you’re restless, needing more than every slow drag. “I want more,” you breathe trying to pick up the pace but failing to when you’re this close, “please I need more,”

he doesn't even pull out as he flips the two of you, pushing you down on your back and wrapping his arms around you before he starts to pick up the pace on his thrusts. “better baby?”

you can’t even speak as he frantically pumps into you, hips knocking into yours. his mouth at your ear he's moaning, “You feel so good- fuck- I'm gonna fill you up- I-“ he cut himself off on a whimper, “I wanna fill you up so bad, I can’t take it, I need to please,” he presses his face into your neck as he begs. “please,”

he twitched inside you, thrusts turning sloppy as you wrap your legs around his waist. his soft mewls sending you over the edge, your back arching as you came, dots forming in your vision. you’re clenching so much that he can hardly move anymore, hips pressed flush against yours as he stills, warm cum filling you.

Yeonjun pressed a messy kiss to your lips, going back to his slow thrusts to feel how slick you were with both of your cum. every other thrust he pressed into your womb feeling the way your pussy fluttered for him. He gave a lazy smile into your kiss before pulling out. you gave a shaky breath from the loss, your legs falling from around his waist as he leaned back to look at the mess he had made of you. “my pretty girl looking her absolute best,” you could feel the cum slipping out of you and he scooped it up with his thumb to push it back in, “stuffed full of my cum just as she should be,”

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

If you already made a request like this or if this request makes you uncomfortable in some way you can just ignore it, I don't mind

Could I request a headcanon with the Octavinelle trio, Idia and Malleus with a s/o who's always wearing clothes that cover as much of their body as possible? Like hodies, pants, long skirts, etc

But one day s/o finally takes the courage to tell and show the reason for that. The reason is that s/o has various scars across their body and they're pretty insecure of them (you don't need to specify where they came from)

Love your work and hope you have a great day 💜

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul understood perfectly well how it felt to be insecure about your body. While your issues didn’t perfectly align, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t understand at least part of your pain, though he tried to keep that secret close to his chest while he comforted you. He assured you that your sense of style had class and that’s why the other students didn’t get it, imploring you to ignore the rumors as only you had the right to pick what suited you best. He doesn’t know if there’s a way to help you gain confidence but he would try to support you to the best of his ability.  

Floyd Leech:

Floyd did notice your fashion choices but it had never bothered him, he just figured land-dwellers had their own thing going on and thought nothing else of it. Scars, however, were cool as hell in his eyes and he told you to show them off more often, even if it was just to him. He’s interested in the story behind them but even he shows tact at times, or perhaps he was simply distracted, but either way he didn’t push the subject much further. He’s already threatening enough that most people aren’t stupid enough to speak poorly of you when he’s around, so you could at least have that peace of mind.

Idia Shroud:

Idia had never questioned your fashion sense even when others might’ve, as he was used to rumors or gossip spreading about him. He never suspected he’d unlock another portion of your potentially tragic backstory, avoiding direct eye contact with your scars to avoid being rude. He thinks it’ s true that everyone has scars, some more visible than others, and hiding them away is another form of defense. He quietly appreciated the level up in trust, becoming more vocal if he heard people speaking negatively about your clothing choices.

Jade Leech:

Jade had sneaked peaks of scarred skin once or twice but had never questioned it, happy to smile on and pretend he saw nothing until the right moment strikes for him to ask. He’s highly aware of the rumors being spread, listening to each carefully and locating their sources for further investigation. He can see how easily you’re bothered by the words of others and when you finally tell him about your scars, he began to understand Floyd’s ‘protective instincts’ a little more. Thankfully he had already done the work of finding out who was causing your stress and he'd have them handled in no time at all.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus listened intently to your story, hiding the anger gathering deep in his chest as he remembered all the rumors that drove you to confess this now. He had no doubt he could shut them down but the pain they had inflicted on you was already clear, meaning he was just a tad too late to completely protect you. He won’t make that same mistake again, stroking your hair and soothing you as he thought of the best ways to strike at your foes quickly, in a way that would assure their silence without drawing too much attention back to him.

[crheativity]

Hello there! I came across your blog and enjoyed reading your post about the Overblot Squad Plushie Parts. I was wondering if you would consider writing a Part 3 where the Squad discovers that their plushies have been stolen. It turns out that the culprits are their Vice Dorm Wardens - either Kalim (since Jamil is Vice Dorm Warden) or Ace (since Trey wouldn't do that). I'm curious to know how the Overblot Boys would react to this situation. Have a pleasant day/night!

SUMMARY: Someone took the Overblot Squad’s plushies! How do they react?

WARNINGS: T*cked in Riddle’s section, sorry if Malleus’ wasn’t that good, writing his was really tricky.

COMMENTS: Hehehehe as soon as I read this my immediate reaction was “oh they’re screwed.” 

Part one - Prefect making the Overblot Squad plushies of their respective Seven member - can be found here. Part two - Prefect making the plushies clothes and accessories - can be found here.

He. Is. Ticked. ALL of Heartslabyul is on lockdown until he finds whichever culprit was bold enough to steal something from him! And stealing something that his beloved made from him? Heads are going to roll.

Riddle literally stops people from leaving Heartslabyul and searches every room himself. He, unsurprisingly, finds plenty of contraband, but doesn’t find his beloved plushy anywhere. He’s almost in tears. He really doesn’t want to tell you he lost it, but all hope seems to be lost-

That is, until Ace hands back the plushy with a sheepish apology. He explains that he had to drop something off in Riddle’s room and accidentally knocked the toy into the trash can. He stole it to clean it and was gonna sneak it back. He didn’t think Riddle would notice that quickly!

Ace still loses his head, but only for a week instead of a month, since he had good intentions. Riddle remains snippy at Ace for months afterwards, though.

Walking into his room, Leona realises that something is wrong. You - or at least, the plush you made for him - is missing. He spends around an hour searching his room for it and ends up being extremely irritated when all traces of it are gone. He doesn’t want to admit to his dorm members that he actually misses it, so he tries to sleep without it for a couple of days.

This makes him even more irritated.

Eventually, he wears himself down enough to ask Ruggie what had happened to it. Ruggie groans and explains that the smell of you coming from the plush and accessories was waaay too much for any normal beastman, and that he (along with other Savannaclaw members) had gotten fed up with it and hidden them.

Leona offers Ruggie 2,000 thaumarks to return them. Ruggie doesn’t think twice. 

Azul is sobbing ALL DAY. He is INCONSOLABLE. Octavinelle is getting embarrassed at the fact that their dorm leader - the best and brightest among them - is an uncontrollable mess over the fact that his toy is missing. But what can he do? That’s his best friend, gone! He’s looked everywhere and he can’t find it! What will his Angelfish say? He can’t bear to imagine the look on your face when he tells you he lost it!

He literally pays people to help him find the toy, yet no matter how much money he throws at them and no matter how hard they look, it’s just gone. It’s almost like someone stole it… no, he can’t think like that. If someone really did steal it, he’d probably never get it back! He just wants to hide in an octopus pot.

The Tweels are torn between thinking it’s hilarious and wanting Azul to shut up already. Eventually, Jade returns the plush, explaining that he thought it was fascinating and wanted to study it closer, yet didn’t think Azul would agree. (He also wanted to see Azul’s reaction to his favourite plushy being missing.) Azul is in TEARS of RELIEF and hugging that plushy. He refuses to let it out of his sight anymore. It will go with him (almost) everywhere. Floyd thinks the whole situation is hilarious and will NOT stop teasing him about it.

Jamil at first doesn’t seem like he’s phased. However, those who know him notice the ticks; the muscles in his face twitching with annoyance whenever he’s asked to do anything and the sarcastic comments he often thinks and not says become mutters under his breath instead. He becomes a lot more aggressive in his tasks - forgoing the typical, painstaking care he usually takes for finishing his tasks quickly and shutting everyone out.

He remains this way for several days. People start to get vibes from him and avoid him, which annoys him even more. He just can’t get it out of his head. Why is he so annoyed? Is it because every time he thinks of the missing doll, he thinks of you, upset at him for losing it (whether you actually are or not)? …maybe. He won’t let himself admit it either way. 

A couple of days later, Jamil finds the doll - sitting on Kalim’s bed. He’s immediately interrogating Kalim. Kalim happily explains that in trying to help out Jamil, he decided to try and help clean his room. He knows that the doll means a lot to Jamil, so he wanted to get it cleaned for him! Jamil appreciates it but he’s also this close to losing his temper. Please, just, next time, tell him first, okay? sheesh.

Vil is going to lose his mind. His doll has gone missing. He cannot find it anywhere. He’s already torn apart his room at least three times and called every single studio he’s done a photoshoot in or acted for in the past two months, asking if anyone had seen it. Yet no traces have been found. He has a headache. 

On top of that, Rook has been acting particularly frustrating recently - constantly checking up on his mood and popping out of the most random places. It’s almost as though the universe has coordinated this on purpose.

Wait.

Upon confronting Rook, Vil finds out that his theory was correct; Rook did in fact steal the plush. Apparently, he’d “wanted to see the beauty of Vil’s yearning for the precious thing his beloved made for him,” and so he’d hidden it for a while. Vil’s this close to shaking him by the shoulders, but at least he’s got the plush back.

Pookie? Pookie is missing! Uh oh, that ain’t good. He’s gotta find him, quick. The gacha banners are about to change and he already pre-farmed the mats needed for the character he wants. How’s he supposed to hit those 0.6% odds while without the Little Guy?

He’s tearing apart his room, trying to find the skrunkly before server reset. There’s no way he would’ve taken the toy outside to touch grass, right??? So it’s gotta be in here. Except it’s nowhere to be found. 

He’s about to give in to some totally cringe behaviour - going and looking for it outside - when Ortho shows up, holding the marketable plushie. Idia is snatching it from Ortho and spinning it around the room before flopping on his bed, before realising how cringe he just was. At least he can do his gacha rolls now?

(Ortho’s really confused. He just took it to wash. Did he do something wrong-? Oh well, as long as his brother’s happy now)

As soon as Malleus discovers the plush toy is missing, the rain starts. As he continues to look and ask around for it and doesn’t find it, the rain gets worse. Eventually, NRC has a full-blown hurricane on its hands. 

The weather stays like this for a good two days. Classes have been cancelled as asking students to walk across campus in that much of a downpour would lead to a school-wide riot. And Malleus is still sulking in the corner about his missing plushie.

That is, until a sheepish Lilia surprises Malleus with the plush. He explains that it must’ve fallen in with the laundry and gone through the wash. Since the weather has been so erratic lately, it had to go through the dryer too rather than be dried by the sun, which is why no one noticed where it was for so long.

The rain instantly clears. Malleus hugs his plush and decides to take her to visit you. All is right in the world again. 

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[felassan]

Letters from Lovers

Transcriptions of the letters from the various gear store items. under cut for length.

Isabela:

“My dear Hawke, Do you know anyone with a flock of parrots? I'm trying to cheat on a bet with Varric and the stakes are exceedingly high. If you help me, I shall take you to that breathtaking beach you so crave. Free of ancient horrors, too. I think. I'd hate to take respite from all my adventures, but there are other ways to make the heart flutter. In fact I'm already imagining a few. Aren't you? Sailing there can be fatal, but Admiral Isabela will keep you safe. Are you interested? I would love to see you again. Yours, Isabela”

Morrigan:

“My love, Now before that grin reaches your ears, perish the thought that this letter was my idea. 'Tis Kieran who would not give me peace until I wrote to ask how you are faring. Regale us, if you please, with another of your tales that I might read to him in bed. He is particularly fond of those wherein you spur mischief whilst you save the day. Thank you for your most delightful gifts. I shall make certain to wear them the next time you come home. Dream of me until then, my Hero of Ferelden, and have a care. Morrigan”

Dorian:

“My dearest Amatus, Home is ever as it was: a glittering whirl of dancing, politics, and murder. I'm used to people staring daggers at me - I quite relish it, actually - but the glares seem to possess a new intensity since my return to Tevinter. Do they disapprove of House Pavus freeing its slaves while I work in the Magisterium to end slavery across Tevinter? Perhaps they simply covet my cheekbones, and who could blame them? Real reform will take time, but we're making inroads. I miss you terribly, Amatus, perhaps almost as much as you miss me. I treasure you and your belief in my work here. Yours always, Dorian P.S. I wouldn't take it amiss if you might send me another barrel of that dreadful Fereldan beer?”

Alistair:

“My love, How are you? Is it true that you recently killed darkspawn with only a mean glare and a pointy stick? Ferelden is ablaze with this rumor! You do give people so much hope. Tales of your heroism never fail to astonish me and almost ease the pain of going to sleep without you by my side. Almost. I can't wait to be with you again. I'd bring you some roses, you could give me a tour of the keep, we'd drink with the new recruits and then cuddle in a tent. Without the new recruits! Tent time is just for the two of us. I want to make that clear. Now excuse me while I practice my death glare and rummage through the dog's stash of sticks. I love you. Yours forever, Alistair.”

The Iron Bull:

“Kadan, You won’t believe what I did today. I got a guy to flip! Twice! So yes, all is well. Except for all the demons. And this whole thing in which I’m far away from the love of my life. Really keeps me up at night. Anyway, you hearing these rumors of a dragon on the loose? Yeah! The boys and I are on its trail. Last I heard, it was flying toward the Frostback Mountains. Can you join us? I hope you’re not uh… all tied up. Don’t worry, I’m fairly certain it’s not a Ben-Hassrath trap. And if it is, you know I’m prepared. Ataash varin kata! I love you, Kadan. See you soon. The Iron Bull.”

Tali:

“By the way, I left something for you up in your cabin. Go have a look.” - Tali’Zorah  --- “Dear Shepard,   As you may remember, I presented this picture frame to you as a gift on the Normandy. It was my way of expressing my admiration for you and our bond as comrades-in-arms. On the back of the metal frame, I've emblazoned a promise that will never fade - 'Shepard, wherever you go, I'm with you.'  I know it's not much, but...this is what I look like under the mask. I'm sorry if it's not what you were expecting. I know Quarian faces can be a bit...different. Every time you look at my picture, I hope you will be reminded of our adventures on the Normandy, from our battles against the Reapers to our intimate conversations in the privacy of our quarters.    I am not one to express my emotions openly, but thank you for being my friend, my confidante, and my inspiration. I look forward to many more adventures together.  Keelah se’lai,   Tali’Zorah”

Another letter from Tali:

"Whatever the galaxy throws at us, I'll be at your side. - Tali" --- "Shepard It's been a while since I last struggled to sleep. You must be dreaming of falling through a fish tank or starring in a hanar vid? I can hear you muttering about jellyfish. It's funny. I've spent my whole life hoping for the future, but these days nothing scares me more. Keelah, why can't we stop time? Even for just a little bit? No war, no Reapers, nobody counting on us. Just you and me, as free as the dust in the solar wind. When this is all over, will you settle down on Rannoch with me? I love you. - Tali"

Bonus:

Shepard's N7 acceptance letter, from Anderson:

“N7 Congratulations on your graduation From Captain David Anderson Shepard, When I graduated from the N7 program I had the honor of meeting Admiral Grissom, the man who inspired me to pursue a career in the service, and I never thought I’d feel prouder in my life. I was mistaken. Don’t get me wrong, it was a big day. An important day. But there’s something about welcoming driven young people like yourself into the ranks that’s also pretty damn satisfying. Your distinguished service record may have gotten you into this program - but it was your courage, integrity, and tenacity that’s enabled you to join an elite few. You represent the best of humanity, and I feel certain you’ll make the galaxy a better place. And I’m not the only one who feels this way. Becoming an N7 means the entire Systems Alliance is telling you one thing - we believe in you. Let me end by saying this. Welcome to the team Shepard. We know you won’t let us down. David Anderson Systems Alliance Interplanetary Combatives Academy N7 N7 Acceptance Letter”

[81folklore]

dress - VETTEL - part 2

pairings: sebastian vettel x famous!reader (fc: taylor swift)

summary: its known that seb has been married for a few years now despite the public never seeing is wife, its also known that yn is in a committed relationship and has been since she disappeared from public eye. maybe they are more connected than people realise

authors note: part two because i didnt realise how long it had gotten but im allergic to actually writing.. also i apologize for the first part literally just being build-up.. i honestly didnt know about the 30 pic limit so...

authors note 2: i used google translate for the german so i hope its correct, also i dont know if petnames like darling or sunshine are used in germany but i had to use them

authors note 3: i actually hate how this turned out :/ but it was very hard to actually get my thoughts onto the page so this will do! this is part 2 so go read part 1 first!!

part 1 part 3 masterlist

ynupdates

liked by user5, user77, olliebearman and 45,920 others

YN IN THE F1 PADDOCK TODAY, I REPEAT YN IN THE PADDOCK

view comments

user77: sorry i dont follow f1, i thought the races were on sundays?

user5: dont be sorry! today is qualifying and tomorrow is the race!

user5: SHES THERE I CANT STAY CALM

user91: does anyone know who she was with in those photos of her by the track?

user5: sebastian vettel and mick schumacher!

user6: SHE WAS WATCHING QUALIFYING WITH SEB AND MICK?? SEB VETTEL?? AND MICK SCHUMACHER?? OH LORDDD

user12: i thought i would survive.. i lied

ynupdates

liked by user5, user20, user99 and 101,782 others

seems like yn is with redbull at todays race looking as gorgous as ever!

view comments

user5: OH OH OH OH

user5: SHE IS STUNING HOLY

user20: her style recently has been AMAZING

user68: out of every team i think redbull would have been one of my last guesses

user6: THE WAY SHE IS WITH REDBULL AND SPENT QUALIFYING WITH REDBULLS GOLDEN BOY OH I FEEL SICK

user99: i love her so much

user42: at least her team will win

user591: IS SHE WEARING A WEDDING RING??

user618: i think so?? honestly i wouldnt be surprised shes very private and has been with her partner for almost 8 years so no wonder he popped the question

user90: i need her to be at every gp

ynupdates

liked by charles_leclerc, user55, user81 and 234,891 others

yn on stage performing dress during the post-race concert at suzuka! as far as we know it was a complete surprise, she came on to sing dress then left. this is her second time performing it to a live audience!

view comments

user81: WHEN IS IT MY TURN TO HEAR DRESS LIVE

user5: charles and seb were both spotted watching her from the side of the stage!

user81: charles taking seb to see his favorite artist..what if i cried

user55: i cant believe i lost dress twice without even knowing i could lose it😭

user8: i hope she had so much fun, ive missed her doing stuff like this :’)

user12: apparently she was laughing and looking off stage at someone throughout, possibly her partner?

user1: SHE AWLAYS LOOKS SO GOOD

user13: so much content this weekend..im going to have major withdrawls

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, mickschumacher and 13,712,847 others

four years ago i was given the pleasure of marrying my best friend

i am unable to really put into words how much meeting you and getting to spend the rest of my life with you has changed my life seb, but i tell you i love you enough daily that i hope you understand

when we first met i had no idea how much you would impact me and the way i think, but you have helped me become the woman i am today and i am forever grateful for that

i often feel unworthy of the life you have given me, the life we have together. i wonder how i got to be the one you love and cherish and i know how lucky i am to be the one you spend your life with

you gave me your heart and i promise to look after it for as long as im here, i promise to keep it safe and i know you will look after mine

danke, dass du mich liebst, danke, dass du dich um mich kümmerst. (thank you for loving me, thank you for taking care of me) Ich verspreche, dich bis zu meinem letzten Atemzug zu lieben. (I promise to love you until my last breath) Ich werde nie aufhören, dich zu lieben, Mein Sonnenschein. (I will never stop loving you, my sunshine)

tagged: sebastianvettel

comments on this post have been limited

sebastianvettel: Danke, dass du dein Herz geöffnet hast und mich dich lieben lässt, mein Schatz (Thank you for opening your heart and letting me love you, my darling)

sebastianvettel

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 8,728,712 others

I won the most important race. It was the race into the heart of the love of my life, yn. I love you.

view comments

yourusername: 🩵🩵🩵

user5: I CANT DO THIS STOP

user12: hes so sweet :(

user18: ive known about them for a total of 2 minutes but i love them already🫡

user6: dress was written about him…

user71: i feel ill wehn will i get posted like this

sebastianvettel

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, landonorris and 10,120,859 others

the sunshine of my life

view comments

yourusername: i love you so much

lewishamilton: very happy for you mate!

user13: THEY LOVE EACHOTHER SO MUCH OH MY GOD😭😭

landonorris: 🥹🥹

user82: DRESS WAS WRITTEN BY HER FOR HIM AND HE WAS PROUD OF IT OH LORD

user5: literally my favorite people in the entire universe🫶

user19: still in shock that theyve been married for four years

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Never Give Up

Pairing: Rockstar!Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: complete fluff, getting blood drawn so needles and blood

Summary: Jensen is in town for his next concert and visit you for a check-up before performing. You two have known each other for your whole life since his sister is your best friend, and he never fails to ask you out every time he sees you. You’ve always said no. It’s his mission to get you to say yes.

Square Filled: rockstar!jensen (2022) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You grab another vial of blood and mark down in the system which patient of yours this belongs to. Afterward, you place it inside a medical plastic bag and set it off to the side for the lab to pick up later. Today has been non-stop tending to patients, drawing blood, and taking vitals. You’re only halfway through your shift and you feel like your head is going to explode.

“Did you see his post?” another nurse asks as she and her friend walk into the office. “God, he looks so hot. I can’t believe he’s single.”

“I bet he’s fucking random fans every show he does. I could be one of those fans if I got tickets. Can you believe even the nosebleeds are two hundred bucks?”

You don’t need to hear his name to know who they’re talking about. There is only one artist that is big enough in the news right now. He’s been on a steady incline to fame ever since he left Texas for California.

“Do you think he’s good in bed?”

You roll your eyes at that but don’t comment on it. You just want to do your job and go home. You can’t be sitting here thinking about your best friend’s brother and how much of an arrogant bastard he is who thinks the world revolves around him. It doesn’t help that he has a major crush on you, and he isn’t afraid to show it. Besides him telling you every time he calls you how much he likes you, he’ll always try to show you either with flowers, dinner, or other small presents that he has mailed to you.

There isn’t a time that goes by when he’s with you that he doesn’t try and ask you out on a date. If he was just your best friend’s brother, you would consider it. It’s the fact that he’s an up-and-coming rockstar who isn’t near his peak that has you on the edge. You know rockstars. You dated a few of them. All they care about is music, money, and sex. They’ll get it anywhere from any woman who is willing to spread her legs for them. You’re not saying Jensen is like that, but you don’t want to be a notch on his belt.

Still, that doesn’t stop you from using your vibrator and fantasizing about him.

A few days pass without incident when you’re inputting patients into the computer. The same two coworkers who were talking about Jensen before come strolling in with big smiles on their faces.

“What’s got you two looking like that?”

“Jensen is in town for his concert.”

“Did you two get tickets?”

“No, but I know of a way inside. I have someone working security.”

You’d rather not sit here and watch them fangirl over him so you decide to finish your paperwork later and check on the patients. Your best friend, Sabrina, pulls you to the side as soon as she sees you.

“I need you to take the patient in Room 15.”

“Why? That’s your section.”

“Please? I can’t do it.”

“Why?” you ask, your eyes narrowing.

“He’s my brother. They won’t let me work on him.”

Jensen is here. You think about what it might mean if he sees you entering the room and think it’s better than sending the fangirls in there with him.

“Fine. You owe me.” You start to walk away from her with the blood draw supplies and pause. “Don’t tell the other girls. They’ll cause a riot.”

You walk to Room 15 and knock twice before entering. Jensen is sitting on the small table with the paper lined for people’s safety even though half the time, it gets crumbled and tossed out of the way. He is scrolling through his phone but it’s not that that has you staring in awe. He is wearing a tight black shirt that really shows off his muscles and tattoos and dusty blue jeans that you know hug his ass so nicely, all with a backward hat on. His hair peeks out the back of his hat. It was shorter than the last time you saw him.

There’s a new image for your fantasies.

“Growing out your hair, huh?”

Jensen’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice, and he gives you a thousand-watt smile. He immediately puts his phone away so that he can give you all of his attention.

“I was hoping Sabrina would send you in here.”

“Oh, you’re lucky it’s me and not the two fangirls out there. I’m pretty sure one of them wants to have sex with you.”

“What about you? Do you want to have sex with me?”

You smile shyly and grab two latex gloves to start the blood-drawing process. “You wish.”

“Yeah, I do.”

You wrap a tourniquet around his upper arm before grabbing his arm and rubbing the area with an alcohol swab to sterilize the area. Don’t think about his big muscles. Focus, Y/N! You open a packet that contains a new needle and place it where you need to. Without counting down, you stick the needle into his vein and start to grab blood samples.

“So, come here often?” he flirts.

“I work here,” you giggle.

“I know. I just wanted to hear your giggle. So, when am I gonna take you out?”

“Hmm, how about never?” you tease.

“Don’t do that to me, sweetheart. Throw me a bone or something.”

“I’m not even going to comment,” you laugh.

You take out the first vial and shove a new one into the case for more blood.

“I’m serious. When are you gonna let me take you out to a nice dinner? I’ll pay.”

“Oh, you will? How generous of you,” you say sarcastically yet playfully.

“Does that mean yes?”

“No.”

“I’m not gonna stop asking you.”

“You’ll turn blue in the face if you continue that.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. “I look good in blue.” You roll your eyes and try to hide your smile knowing he sees it. You finish getting four blood samples before patching him up with a Hello Kitty bandaid. You were just treating two twin little girls and this is all you have. “Nice band-aid.”

“It’s all I have. I can get a different one if you want.”

“No, no, I happen to like Hello Kitty.” You trash your gloves and the needle packet before standing. “Come to my concert.”

“I have to work.”

“No, you don’t. It’s on Saturday and you don’t work the weekends.” You silently curse knowing he’s right. “How about this? I will have a VIP and all-access badge with your name on it. Come if you want. It starts at seven. Are we done here?”

“Yeah, but--”

“Give my love to Sabrina.”

He hops of the table and kisses your cheek as he leaves. The two fangirls see him and fawn over his good looks but when he looks back, it’s at you. He only has eyes for you. He winks and turns to the fangirls who are practically tripping over the other to get to him. He signs what they want to be signed and takes pictures with them before leaving.

Today is only Wednesday but you can’t stop thinking about Jensen and his offer the rest of the week. Saturday comes faster than you’d like, and you find yourself driving with Sabrina to the concert hours before it even starts. There are already people lining up to get to the front of the pit but you bypass the entire parking lot to head to the back where the service entrance is.

“I can’t believe I’m going to this,” you say.

“So, when are you and my brother going to fuck?”

“Sabrina!”

“What? If anyone should be with him, it’s you. That boy is in love with you.”

“No, he’s not. He thinks he is because I don’t want him.”

“Does telling yourself that help you sleep at night?”

“Sabrina… He’s a rockstar. He’s a famous rockstar. He doesn’t want some rundown nurse. He could have anyone.”

“Yeah, but he wants you.”

You’re torn because you do want Jensen. He’s every girl’s dream. Even if he wasn’t a rockstar or famous, you’ve known him since you two were kids. You grew up together. You know who the real Jensen is, the one he doesn’t show anyone else. Still, there is that nagging feeling that he'll dump you once he gets bored with you. 

All of your exes did.

You show security both your IDs and he hands you and Sabrina your access badges before directing you where to park. After you two get out, you follow security to the back where the band is hanging out. You’ve gotten to know Jensen’s band a little over the years. They’re nice guys.

“Bean!” Jensen turns and grins when he sees his sister. His drummer has a major crush on your friend and has called her Bean ever since she told him she hated it. They’re in the “will they, won’t they?” stage but everyone knows they’re gonna be endgame. “Where’ve you been?”

“I told you not to call me that,” she rolls her eyes and hugs her brother. 

“And I told you I don’t care. I like how you blush when I do,” he smirks.

Jensen’s gaze goes over to you and he visibly relaxes at the sight of you. He walks over to you and takes off his hat so that his hair falls over his face.

“Hi, Jensen.” He smiles but doesn’t answer you. “What, cat got your tongue? I know I’m breathtaking but come on.”

“He doesn’t speak before a show to preserve his voice. He has breathing exercises to do,” Josh, the drummer, says.

“What a blessing,” you joke.

Jensen pulls you in for a hug, and you allow this minute to really feel him. His arms have always felt so safe around you, and you find yourself relaxing into his body. He pulls away and takes out his phone to text you since he takes his voice exercises seriously. Your phone pings and you look at the message he sent.

I love that you’re here.

You blush under his gaze and try but fail to hide your smile.

“You know I would have come.”

You and Sabrina leave for the VIP tent on the floor while the band gets ready. The opener comes out and does her performance which gives you time to enjoy the music and get some food before Jensen comes on stage. Since you and Sabrina are on Jensen and Josh’s social media, you’re both easily recognizable. Fans come up to the tent to chat and take pictures with you two. You never had a desire for fame but it’s nice to know you’ve made someone’s day just by saying hi to them.

The entire stadium goes dark and the intro to the concert begins. Immediately, the entire crowd cheers for Jensen. He walks on stage in a different outfit than when you saw him earlier, and you have to admit he looks really good. He’s wearing a classic muscle shirt that definitely shows off how much he’s been working out and his tattoos. Gone is his hat so that his hair can flop around freely.

His eyes immediately find the VIP tent, and he smiles when he sees you. You’ve seen his concerts over TikTok Lives and other social media platforms but nothing beats the real thing. He sings each song with passion like he means every word he’s singing. There is a long catwalk where he walks, and all the girls fawn over him whenever he gives them two seconds of his attention.

By the time he’s at the halfway point of his concert, your feet are hurting from how much you’re dancing and your ears are ringing from how loud it is, but you love it. Jensen is in the middle of a song when he suddenly stops and takes out one of his earpieces.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he pants. The band stops playing and everyone quiets down in confusion, including you. He’s never done this at any of his other concerts. “I’ll get back to the music in a second. I just want to say this is a very special concert because there is someone very special here tonight.”

“Oh, my God,” Sabrina gasps.

“Her name is Y/N and she’s right over there in the VIP tent.” The camera pans over to your shocked face so that everyone in the stadium can see. Sabrina can’t stop smiling. “You see, we’ve been friends since we were kids and she doesn’t know this but I am absolutely crazy for her.”

Cheers erupt throughout the stadium, and you shake your head at Jensen with a smile.

“Now, I’ve asked her this many times but she’s always said no to me. I don’t think she’ll be able to say no in a room full of eighty thousand people. Someone get her a microphone. I want to hear her answer.” Jensen waits for someone to bring you a microphone. “Y/N, will you let me take you to a really nice dinner date?”

You wait for the crowd to quiet down a bit before giving your answer.

“No,” you smile sweetly. “You just won’t take no for an answer.”

“You’re right. I won’t.” He drags one of the barstools to the middle of the stage and sits on it. “That’s why we’re not continuing until you say yes.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I am, sweetheart. I won’t sing another song until you say yes. What do you say, Los Angeles? Should she say yes to me?” Almost every fan in the stadium including Sabrina cheers for you two. “See? Even they think you should.”

“Well if they think we should…”

“Is that a yes?”

“No,” you grin.

“Alright.” Jensen sits and drums his fingers on his legs patiently. “I wonder what I’m going to do next weekend. I think I should take up fishing. My dad always brought me but I never appreciated it before.”

“You’re seriously going to sit there and not continue your concert?” you ask.

“Put everyone out of their misery and just say yes to the date. Come on, everyone. Y/N! Y/N!”

Everyone starts chanting your name, and Sabrina tugs on your arm to grab your attention.

“Has any of your exes done this for you? What are you scared of?”

She’s right. None of your rockstar boyfriends have ever stopped a concert for you. None of them even mentioned you were there. Jensen doesn’t have to say it but he is in love with you and you’re in love with him.

“Fine. Fine. Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“Yes!” Jensen cheers. You hand the microphone back to the stadium worker, and Jensen puts the earpiece back in. “This next song is for you, sweetheart.”

And he plays the song he wrote for you in high school.

x

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[jenroses]

Hey! Please feel free to ignore but you did say to ask you about masks :P the ones I've found that are multiple layers for max protection are really stiff, which squishes my face and leads to gaps. Do you have recommendations? Thanks!

I know that there's a lot of noise about elastomeric masks but for me they're a nonstarter because of the stiffness you talk about. I think it's important to understand that most of the 94-95 standard masks that actually meet that standard are going to be plenty good enough where most people are concerned. Is it possible to catch Covid with a mask on? Yes. I've done it.

Is it likely? No. I'm immune compromised. This isn't data, but our experience has been that a combination of masks, reasonable common sense and good filtration are enough that despite having a school-aged child, a husband who travels for conventions, and me, immune suppressed, with a college student living in our house, I have only had covid twice, the first time was an unfortunate collision of me going to a store at the wrong time where a clerk had both covid and the flu and gave them to me, and the other one involved a family member not using a mask at a public event while eating. Even then, when I caught covid and the flu at the same time and isolated immediately with filtration and everyone coming into my space being masked... not one other person in our house caught it, and when someone else caught it a year later, the only people who caught it were sharing sleeping spaces. Our roommates did not catch it, and everyone was masking from the moment of the first positive test. When my kid got half-assed about masking at school, he immediately got flu and strep at the same time. I pointed out that his lack of care about it could mean a lot of missed school for him and serious health impacts for both of us, and he started wearing a mask again, and did not get sick for the rest of the school year. He HATES the masks that go behind the head and wears Armbrust kn95 masks exclusively (dark blue, lol) And it's pretty clear that without the masks he was getting sick a lot and with he just...doesn't. He is wearing them all day except for lunch through full school days, so that says something. Armbrust will send little behind the head doohickies to keep them off the ears but he never uses them. At $2ish per mask they're not the cheapest but he uses one mask for multiple days so it's not too bad overall cost wise. They have kid sizing, but he's in the regular adult size now at 11. Now, I'll talk about Armbrust for a minute because I really like the company. On pretty much every mask they sell you'll see a video of one of their people reviewing the mask and going over testing data... but they ALSO have reviews of almost every other mask on the market, bad, good and in between, and if you find a mask on Amazon or something and want to know more about it, search the mask name and "armbrust" and the youtube video and product data page will pop up. I've found several special masks for very particular needs by looking through their database for combinations of breathability and shape that weren't even masks they sold. So if you are struggling, take a look at the database, eliminate "failed" masks, look for the ones that meet your needs and then watch the video to see what he says about them first. There are some VERY inexpensive masks out there that work very well, and some masks that are incredibly breathable or incredibly high filtration and a few unicorns that are both.

Now Hubby is okay with the same KN95 masks that our son likes but he exercises and his lungs get a little touchy sometimes so he needs maximum ease in breathing, so using that database I found Dr. Puri masks. Here's the Armbrust review. Here's the listing I found them on. Hubby LOVES them. He also prefers behind the ear. About $1.50 each.

I *hate* behind the ear with a hot hate, they bug me. But I can't just use one type of mask all the time because I have EDS and neck issues so pressure there can be awkward, plus I get short of breath sometimes anyway (history of pulmonary embolism that long predates covid) and I have sensory skin issues.

Bar none the most breathable mask I've ever tried, which also does not fog my glasses, is the Drager mask. These are soft, extraordinarily easy to breathe through, and have a unique strap that makes on/off very easy, and lets you pull the top strap and let it hang around your neck if needed. Unfortunately it has a VERY snug fit across the nose and leaves marks on my cheeks, or it would be perfect, but it's a good option, and possibly someone with a smaller face would have an easier time. These are possibly the best filtering and most breathable masks on the market, so for high risk situations this is the mask I would use. They filter 99.7% in testing. They're a little more expensive at about $1.25 per when I checked today. For a good intersection of fit and comfort, but a little less breathable, are the ACI N95 surgical respirator duckbills. These do not leave marks, don't fog much, good seal around the face, and the single most comfortable head strap I've ever seen. The fabric is very smooth, it is sensory good, but the breathability is not as high. It's not hard to breathe through, it's just not as easy as Drager or Dr. Puri. But... They could probably pass an N99 standard by Armbrust's testing, as they filter >99.4% of particulate, where the standard is 95%. These are also incredibly cheap. If you get their subscribe and save discount (you can do every 6 months) you can get 50 for $25, so 50 cents apiece.

All of these masks are pretty soft, easy to wear, and very good at what they do.

The TL:DR though.... The important thing is to find a mask that you will wear consistently and correctly every time you need it. A mask that hangs on your face and slips is not a good mask for you. A mask you hate so much you make excuses not to wear it is not a good mask for you. A mask that breaks easily or makes it hard to breathe so you end up taking it off is not a good mask. If what you have isn't working, there are LOTS of things that might.

Last Armbrust plug: THEY HAVE A SAMPLER PACK. You can buy a pack of a zillion different types and styles of mask and try a bunch! And order the one you like best! If you aren't sick, one sampler pack can be tried by the people in your household so everyone can figure out what works for them!

Also, I used to get sick very very often and now I just...don't. Not from contagious viruses, anyway. I don't understand why people are so cavalier about it. I've been sick less since 2020 than in any given six month period in my entire life. Despite being on immune suppressants.