#boaz priestly fluff

[jays-bonnie-on-the-side]

BOAZ PRIESTLY MASTERLIST

most of these will have strong themes so make sure you read the warnings on each piece.

ONESHOTS COMING SOON

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: do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or republish any of my works* on here or another platform

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[zepskies]

Aww that's amazing!! I hope you're feeling better today, lovely, I've certainly been there. 😅 But I'm so touched that this is your go-to period comfort fic. ❣️

This sounds like absolute heaven. I would love to have Priestly here doing this for me 😍

Ugh ikr? When I wrote that scene that was pure fantasy for me. 🤣🤣

Thank you so much for revisiting! 😘❤️ (Sending you several pints of virtual Half Baked ice cream and warm hugs.)

Code Red

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x Female Reader

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

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

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

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

He was in the zone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He perked up with raised eyebrows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

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

Priestly couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

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

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

What’s wrong? she mouthed.

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckled at that one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No slender regulars this time?” Gerry remarked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’re you holdin’ up?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glanced at him over your shoulder in interest.

“Half-Baked?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

Priestly realized then that he’d found it.

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

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

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

You giggled. “Shut up.”

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

Read the Prequel!

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

▶️ The Miracle Man

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[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  when broken is easily fixed

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

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

CHARACTERS : tish (mentioned)

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

WORD COUNT : 2.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach dropped at the sight of them. 

You’d never felt the way you did before. 

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

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

You had feelings for Priestly.

What a dumb way to find that out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was torture.

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

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

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

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

No Tish. 

Just mopey, wet-eyed Priestley. 

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

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

He entered the store today again after a week. 

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

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

You felt bad… at first. 

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

He came completely in black, too. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your face softened.

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

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

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

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

He smiled a little. 

It made you smile more earnestly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am,” he said automatically. 

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

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

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

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

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

“It was funny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am,” he said gently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[impala-dreamer]

Pondering Fate While Ignoring The Obvious

A Ten Inch Hero Story

~Priestly has got it so bad for Tish that he can barely see past the end of her... well, her back end, anyway. He's love sick and forever rejected, constantly stuck inside his own head. When a new girl in town starts messing with him, he quickly loses his cool...~

Boaz Priestly x F!Reader

2,511 Words

Warnings: Nuttin' but fluff and banter. ;)

A/N: This is another square for my @jacklesversebingo card. The prompt is "Backhanded Compliment/Convenience Store/Sugar Addict"

Now listen- I've never written for this movie before, but I had so much fun doing it. If you've seen the movie, I think you'll love this. If you haven't seen it, you may not totally get it, but you'll still love it because it's cute and fluffy and I said so. Give it a chance ;)

Another day, another spicy Italian with no oil and no vinegar. How you could eat a hero dry was a question he could never quite grasp the answer to, but in the end, did another weird order really matter? He’d put a condom on the bun if they asked for it. Maybe not a used one, but then again, Tish was looking extra spicy herself today.

Tish. Goddamnit. There she goes flirting with every male in existence except him. There she is leaning over the counter in that not-so-sneaky way that pushes her tits up and out, giving everyone and their mother a look into the valley of the Promised Land. 

For fuck’s sake, if she’d only do that for him. 

Then again, nothin’ he hadn’t seen before. 

Fingers snapped in front of his face and Priestly blinked himself back into reality. 

“Can I help you?” he asked, still half dazed and half hard after staring so intently at his coworker. 

Piper sighed. “Yeah. You gotta make a run down the street.” 

He sighed harder. “You know, you ladies are capable of patronizing the convenience store now and then. It’s not really hard. You just pick out what you need and exchange it for cash.” 

The tiny blonde pouted and batted her lashes. “Please? My feet hurt from standing all day.” 

He scoffed. “And mine don't?” 

“I’m not used to it. I’m delicate.” 

Priestly scratched at the bright green spikes that sat atop his head for the day, masquerading as a hairstyle. He frowned but relented. “Fine. Gimme the list.” 

He saw her from the street. He wasn’t purposely peeping through the window like a stalker, but he felt like it all the same. It wasn’t his fault, not really. Things mostly stayed the same around town, so when something was different, when someone new showed up, it tended to stick out a bit. 

The new girl at the register was cute, not particularly daring in her style or makeup palette, but she was attractive. Probably the thing Priestly noticed first was the lollipop stick hanging from her painted lips. 

His entrance was announced by the jangling of bells and she looked up as he came in. She smiled around the pop and twirled the white paper stick between her fingers. 

“Welcome.” 

He looked back at her over his shoulder and nodded. “Hey.” 

Slowly, she pulled the treat from her mouth and licked the very tip. Her tongue was as red as the pop and Priestley was sure that his cheeks were turning the same shade. He cleared his throat quickly and turned back, going about his business. 

The store was otherwise empty except for Mr. Jacobson, the old man who never seemed to go anywhere but was always wherever you went. He was currently lingering at the end of the aisle, amazed at the sheer amount of chip flavors the new millennium had to offer. 

“Back in my day we had regular and salt & vinegar, and we were grateful!”

Priestly laughed under his breath and looked over the rack at the register. She was laughing softly as well, and when their eyes met, she didn’t shy away. 

He did; quickly tearing his gaze from the cherry pop and focusing on the aluminum foil instead. There was no use flirting with her anyway- she’d never go for him. She looked too normal, too pretty to fall for his shenanigans. Best not to even think about it. 

Arms fully stocked, he headed her way, keeping his eyes on the black and gray tiled floor and praying she wouldn’t make his heart race any faster. 

She sucked hard on the Blow Pop and then took a bite, making him jump. Sugar crackled between her teeth and she winked.

“I hope you overcharge them,” she said dryly, staring him down. 

Confusion took the place of shyness and Priestly’s face scrunched up. “What?” he snapped, jerking away from the counter. 

The girl rolled her eyes and went about ringing up his order without another word. 

Cash exchanged, Priestly thanked her and walked out, still wondering what the hell she was talking about. 

Monday. 

Priestly stared out the front window, wondering if the day was going to go his way or not. He knew he shouldn’t bother pondering the Fates, because they always seemed against him, but he liked to think he had some hope tucked away somewhere beneath the Manic Panic hair dye and all the metal sticking out of his head. If there was, he couldn’t find any today. 

Tish was late, as usual, probably rolling out of some strange guy’s arms and fishing for her bra underneath the bed. 

Someday… someday, that’d be his bed she was searching under. Someday, those would be his arms she rolled out of. He just had to keep hoping.

Or not. He really didn’t care. 

The sun was too bright, the grill was too hot. He hated everything. 

Except the sound of bubblegum popping behind him. He didn’t seem to hate that. 

With spatula in hand, he turned and startled just enough to make the bubblegum appear between coyly smiling pink lips. 

“Hey.” 

Priestley squinted. “You’re that chick from the store.” 

Annoyance crept onto her face. “And you’re that dude with too much eyeliner.” 

He laughed before realizing she was insulting him and ended up jolting up on his toes awkwardly, half a smile curled on his lip. 

He cleared his throat. “Priestly.”

She squinted. “Like Elvis?” 

He shrugged. “And you are?” 

“Hungry.” 

Slapping a five on the counter, she picked up her hero and spun away, heading toward the door. She turned to push it open with her backside and popped her gum again. 

Her eyes were glued to him and Priestly felt his stomach flip. He met her gaze and she smiled. 

“I always do.” 

He wanted to say something, to ask her what the hell she was talking about, but she was gone before the words reached his tongue. 

“Always do what?” 

Jen turned her head his way, but her eyes were still locked on the computer screen. “What’s up?” 

He sighed. “Nothing. Just a weird girl from…nothing.”

It was nothing. She was just the weird girl from down the street. And anyway, he was supposed to be hating everything today, not shifting his ponderance to the mystery of the gum chewing, pop crunching girl from the convenience store. 

“Nothing.”  

Blue hair; don’t care. 

Priestly cracked an egg on the grill and watched the edges sizzle. He wasn’t great at a lot of things, but cooking eggs was something he did exceptionally well. The butter bubbled around the perimeter, curling the whites just slightly, and he pushed the tip of his spatula against it. 

Not ready yet. 

The girls were, yet again, chatting about men, and he kept one ear on the sizzle and the other in their conversation. 

“I just don’t understand how hard it is to find. It’s right there.” Tish laughed and pushed a delicate hand back through her hair. “It’s a clit, not the Holy Grail.” 

Priestly raised a brow. “Some would call it that though,” he interjected. 

She rolled her eyes. “You would.”

Offended, he sucked in a quick breath. “Ya know something-” 

She turned, one hand on her hip, waiting. “Yeah?”  

His lips pursed and dejected, he turned back to the grill. “Forget it.” 

“Thought so,” she laughed. 

God, she was such a bitch sometimes. OK, most times, but still.

Tish went back to leaning on the counter and he took the opportunity to peek at her ass. 

Behind him, a throat was cleared. 

Priestly sighed, knowing what was waiting for him when he turned. Or, rather, who. 

“You again.” He batted his lashes. 

She smacked her lips. “Me again.” From her pocket, she withdrew a pink Starburst and fiddled with the wrapper. 

He eyed the candy and followed it to her mouth. Her lips were darker today and it reminded him of the cherry pop. “You eat too much sugar, you know that?”

She smiled gently. “And you dye your hair too much. That isn’t good for you. All those chemicals are gonna fry your brain.” 

“Joke’s on you, it’s already fried- shit!” Fried egg. Burnt to a crisp. “Damnit.” 

Sugar Girl swallowed a laugh and the Starburst. 

He turned around, annoyed at himself and her laughter. “Are you- do you want something?” 

“Yup.” She nodded and took her order from Piper, who was holding a small, paper-wrapped hero. “Thanks.” 

Green eyes narrowed on her smile. She was weird. Way too weird. And kinda rude. 

“You ever gonna tell me your name?” he asked, calling out as she pushed open the door. 

“Sure,” she replied, “Soon as I get my free sample.” 

“Huh?” 

Confusion always seemed to linger when she left, that and the smell of strawberries. Or cherries, or whatever she’d been sucking on. 

Sucking on…

His eyes flickered over to Tish and he wondered if she was as good at sucking things as she claimed.

It was raining and he was cranky. 

He’d missed his alarm, the car wouldn’t start, and a passing bus nearly drenched him head to toe. 

It wasn’t supposed to rain at the beach. It was practically against the law. Nature’s law, anyway. 

And to top it all off, Tish was bragging about the amazing night she’d had with a handsome stranger visiting from New York. 

“He’s just in town for a few days, so it’s nothing serious,” she explained to a wide-eyed Piper who was drinking down every word. “But man, I wouldn’t be mad if it was. He’s… tall and handsome and-” 

Priestly cleared his throat. “Ya know I’m pretty tall.” 

She clicked her tongue. “And?” 

His heart ached at her callousness. “And… just thought I’d remind you.”

Maybe she didn’t know what she was doing to him, but he thought his advances were fairly obvious. Maybe she was just a bitch.

Jen derailed his thought train with a shopping list she’d printed out. 

He shook his head. “No.” 

“Please?”

The shop on the corner was the last place he wanted to go. Nameless Sugar Girl was the last person he wanted to see. “Why do I always have to go?” He pouted and gestured to the window. “It’s pouring rain out there.” 

Jen looked up with puppy-dog eyes. “Which is why I’m asking you to please go.” 

A heavy sigh was his only reply. Priestly grabbed the paper from her hand, crumpling it beyond repair, and set out into the downpour. 

He was dripping by the time he made it down the street. He sneered at the water on his face, rolled his eyes at the welcome mat, swatted viciously at the bells as they rang above his head. 

“Rough morning?” she asked, watching his huffy entrance. 

He scowled. “You could say that.” 

A peppermint rolled on her tongue and the red and white stripes caught his eye. “Well, lemme know if you need any assistance.” 

Priestly ran a hand through his teal-tinted hair and shook out a puddle’s worth of rain. “Yeah. Thanks.” 

It took him a while to collect the goods, having trouble finding the right paper towels that would fit into the holder in the bathrooms. He’d never had any issues in the store before; seemed like someone had rearranged. 

Someone. 

He looked across the rows of sundries and wondered what her deal was. Hell, he still didn’t even know her name. Not that he wanted to, of course. 

Of course. 

Finally, and with much annoyance, he arrived at the register. 

She laughed softly as he unloaded his arms. 

He shook his head. “What?” 

“I… I shouldn’t even touch this one.” 

He had no clue what she was talking about, he never did, and he was at the end of his rope. 

His patience snapped. “What?”

She sat back, clearly hurt by his tone. “Your shirt.” 

She pointed at his chest and he looked down, reading the big black letters upside down. 

‘Save a tree, eat a beaver’

His shoulders fell. “Oh. Yeah. Whatever.” 

“Yeah,” she echoed, the sting heavy in her voice. “Whatever.” 

He couldn’t take it anymore. Dropping a can of coffee onto the counter, he slapped his palms down on either side of it and leaned in. 

“Ya know, everytime I see you, you’ve got something snarky to say.”

Her eyes went wide. “Snarky?” She frowned. “I thought I was flirting.” 

The fight drained out of him along with the blood in his cheeks. Confused once more. “Uh… what?” 

Pushing herself up off the stool, she mirrored his pose, hands falling dangerously close to his. “Flirting,” she said again. “It’s an ancient ritual in which a sexually interested party attempts to lure their prey into bed with witty and charming wordplay.”

He balked. “I know what flirting is!” 

She glared. “Then why haven’t you picked up on the fact that I’ve been trying to pick you up for weeks now?”

“I uh…” His elbows buckled and he stood up fully. “You have?” No way. She wasn’t…

Memories of the past month flooded his mind. Each time he’d seen her she was smiling at him, not being snarky. She was teasing him, answering the ridiculous sayings on his shirt. 

‘I sell crack for the CIA.’ … “I hope you overcharge them”

‘Surf naked.’ … “I always do.” 

‘Orgasm Donor - Ask for your free sample’ … “As soon as I get my free sample.”

It had been smacking him in the damned face and he hadn’t seen it. She had been playing with him the whole time, not trying to annoy him. She wanted him to notice her, but he was too busy dreaming of Tish, wondering when she’d notice him. 

He sucked in a stunned breath. “You have. Wow.”

A tiny smile returned to her cherry lips. “Come on, I know you’re not as dumb as your fashion sense implies.”

Priestly felt a dip in his gut, something fluttering around inside. He grinned. “Oh, I’m way dumber.” 

Reaching across the counter, she grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him close. “Good.”

Her lips were soft, the kiss as sweet as the candy she was always eating. He breathed her in as her tongue swept over his.  He was stunned, confused but in a good way. Maybe he needed to push Tish aside and pay more attention to the world around him. Maybe this was a good thing. A really good thing. His eyebrows raised in surprise, his blood pressure raised even higher.

She pulled away slowly, her lips lingering on his. 

“You get it now?” 

She waited, blinking at him with the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. He should have looked sooner, closer; should have given her a chance.  

“Yeah,” he whispered in a laugh. “I think I do.” 

Another kiss, a press of her hand at the nape of his neck. 

“You ever gonna tell me your name?” 

She smiled. “Y/N.”

He reached for her cheek; fingers landing lightly on her soft skin. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” 

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[talltalesandbedtimestories]

Save A Tree, Eat A Beaver - Priestly x Rowena

“Save a Tree, Eat a Beaver” - Priestly x Rowena

Part 1 of Pets4Punks

Rating Teen (Part 1)

Priestly x Rowena

Tags: Mild Angst, Fluff and Flirting, Owls Go Bad, Zoo Shenanigans, Homage to Betty White, Spell Casting, A Comedy of Errors

Word Count: 3800

Priestly’s nursing a broken heart. Rowena’s exacting some magical revenge. What will unfold when these two meet at a Beastly Ball?

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Flirtation-Whiskey-A Mistake At A Zoo" square.

Image created in Canva (credit for photos used: “Ten Inch Hero”; movietvtechgeeks.com)

“Would that be an invitation, there, then?”

Priestly dabbed his brow with a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. It was hot in the food tent. Even if Beach City Grill was serving up pre-made hero sandwiches, bookending vendors grilled and fried their fare with furious abandon. Other heat factors included portable spotlights and generators. The warm night breeze created a tiny suffocating vortex under the tent for Priestly to inhabit.

Priestly panted. Hot didn’t seem like an accurate description. 

No. When you added in the thousand or so bodies at The LA Zoo’s 37th Beastly Ball, the temperature downright sizzled. 

Priestly attempted to blink away his discomfort. A cacophony dialed his irritation up to ten. People chattered. A DJ spun another record through an obnoxious sound system with speakers the size of refrigerators. Even if the funds being raised tonight benefitted the zoo, he couldn’t imagine a bear or lion being okay with any of this. If there weren’t barriers in the way, he was pretty sure this entire crowd would be mauled to death by some very irate mammals. He only had so much patience for the human race of which he was unfortunately a part.

At least he’d get to see Betty White in person tonight. She was the Beastly Ball Chairman. That woman was a national treasure. And probably the only one that would be spared if the animals rose up.

He sliced up another of the more popular menu items being gobbled up by donors. The Mane Attraction hero had been a hit with the carnivores as suspected. Despite the surging heat, he’d kept his nose down and worked in the background the entire evening. Piper and Jen were the all-smiles servers, front and center, greeting the deep-pockets milling about the food tent.

“‘Scuse me, lad?”

It was the addition of ‘lad’ to the second question from a very Scottish sounding woman that had him look up.

Turned out, he didn’t need to look up very high. An elegant, petite wisp of a porcelain lady stared up at him. One of her copper-tinted brows arched. Lush, fiery red ringlets cascaded from the top of her head to her pointy elbows. A dusty peach wrap made of silk hung and clung to a body made for ballet. The chunky black vinyl belt with a sequin studded buckle cinched the dress in at the waist.

She was magically delicious.

Priestly smiled and wiped the roast beef gravy from his hands. He then pointed to Jen manning the front table. “One of our lovely servers will be able to plate up anything you’d like to try, Miss.”

“Including you?” Her coral stained lips curled up into a grin.

Priestly froze. He had to have heard her wrong in the middle of all the noise. “I-I’m sorry, what?”

One of the woman’s expertly manicured fingers pointed at his chest. “Are you being canny with that shirt? Or, would that be an actual invitation, there, then?”

Priestly gulped. “Um…”

The woman offered a playful frown. “Well, when you get your voice back, you let me know the answer, aye?”

*

Rowena didn’t have time to wait for the pretty punk boy to remember how to form sentences. So, she’d sampled the vegetarian sandwich the mousy haired twenty-something called The Panda Munch and then it was off toward the animal habitats.

She had work to do and little patience.

The rowdy bunch of guests, chatting and being all kinds of obnoxious for over ten minutes, had taken root by a particular set of sanctuaries that held her interest. 

She stood by the guard rail on the opposite side of the walkway, sipping from a champagne flute. Her fingernails tapped the top of the fence. She gazed over at a nearby pond. The current inner debate in her head was whether she should ignite the shoes aflame of the loudest person in the group or temporarily immobilize his tongue.

The ticket to attend this pathetic attempt at a soiree had been overpriced. Good cause her arse. A good cause was exacting any bit of covert revenge she could toward the Grand Coven. An even better cause was finding a way to unshackle her powers.

And what she currently required –to fund the greatest cause, which was herself– could be pilfered more easily under the veil of night. Amid distracted security, overworked zoo staff, and intoxicated guests, what could go wrong?

Rowena sighed and eavesdropped on the eejit in the lavender polo shirt drone on about the Lakers. She watched him pretend to dribble out of the corner of her eye.

A majority of the upper echelon of Angelenos could be trite and vapid. All surface, no substance. But that also made them easy to grift. If she stayed under the radar for another year or two, her little shop might be a very lucrative business.    

An announcement interrupted the awful excuse for music emanating from the stage some ways off where most of the guests congregated. Betty White would be giving a speech in about ten minutes.

That got the group moving.

“Finally,” Rowena murmured. She abandoned the glass atop the guard rail and sashayed toward her target. Her gaze landed on a security camera high atop a lamp post. She whispered, “Confractus.” A satisfied smile emerged at the subsequent sizzle and crack from the surveillance equipment.  

*

“Go, take a break.” Jen shooed Priestly with her hands. “Betty’ll be on soon. I don’t want to hear you complain later about missing that.”

“Are you sure?” Priestly untied the black waist apron.

Jen nodded. “Anything that makes you smile should not be denied.”

Priestly knew Jen really wanted to say, “We’re sick and tired of seeing you all mopey since Tish moved to New York.”

“Maybe you can get her to autograph your shirt,” Piper added with a giggle.

“Betty appreciates a dirty joke.” Priestly nodded with certainty.

Jen cleared her throat. “You’re definitely making a statement with it.”

“Oh! Don’t forget that dude at the Whiskey distillery stand said to stop by and get us some samples in exchange for these.” Piper shoved three wrapped sandwiches in Priestly’s hands.

“Right, I’ll go do that before Betty. Back faster than The Flash.”

*

Rowena had gotten turned around more than twice on the Employees Only path. Nestled amid the Night Wing area terrain, the dirt walk lacked signage for the untrained. A paltry number of floodlights scattered warm amber streaks here and there to guide the way.

Why didn’t the coordinators of this benefit include a flashlight in their extra large swag bag? “Buncha beetroots,” Rowena mumbled, hefting the cumbersome tote over her shoulder. At least she could have both hands free when needed later, what with her tiny clutch now in the bag’s bottom.

To add to the indecency of the two other cameras she had to decommission along the path, a staff member had chanced upon her stumbling through foliage in black vinyl thigh high boots. Steel nerves she’d forged over a few centuries rattled only for a second. The young male, whose time on this planet tallied up to nothing more than a couple decades, had been quite amicable. He’d politely offered to escort her to the main path. 

Rowena thanked him and followed his lead for a few yards while he made small talk. She fished out her clutch, found a hex bag, slipped it into his jacket pocket, and then glamoured him. He rotated slow and turned to face her. 

With syrupy sweetness, Rowena asked to be directed to the owl habitat entrance and unlock it. He stammered, with dilated pupils and enamored smile, that it was only his third day on the job and he didn’t know which gate that was. 

“Well, there shan’t be any harm in you opening up a gate or two for lil ole me, would there?” She batted her long lashes even though there was no need. Rowena did enjoy leaning into theatrics.

The junior zookeeper bobbed his head, turned, and floated back the way he came. “Follow me.”

*

The abrupt temperature change required Priestly to slip on his tartan plaid vest over his t-shirt. Away from the benefit crowd, the night air cooled slick spots of sweaty skin.

Listening to Betty White wax poetic about her love of animals had made all the hard work worthwhile. She’d even given him a cheeky little wink from the stage. Seriously, Priestly thought he might have a major crush on the woman. She was even funnier and more radiant in person than he’d expected. She could be his Golden Girl any damn day of the week.

After he, Jen, and Piper toasted with Whiskey samples to a job well done, he’d been released from cleanup duty. Excitement filled the segment of his brain in which the still six-year-old part of him resided. Okay, so it wasn’t like he was sneaking through the zoo. Staff members stationed at various checkpoints and exhibits nodded in greeting as he passed. But the grounds, typically experienced in the light and warmth of sunshine, now crackled with a forbidden energy.

It was nice to feel some excitement. His emotional state of late had been devastated. He hadn’t been able to shake himself out of the volley between self-pity and feeling responsible for Tish’s move. Maybe if he’d been more (more what, though), she would have stayed and they could have worked things out.

The three shots of whiskey had not helped the spiral of self-doubt. He hadn’t been enough. Pure and simple. Had it been juvenile to think his “normal” makeover would have been the key to winning over the girl of his dreams? Of course. Did that make it hurt any less that it hadn’t worked out? Of course not.

He recalled the flirty, testy banter with Tish over the years. She could slap him onto a sizzling griddle or submerge him in a bucket of ice with that sharp tongue and flippant hair toss. That drew him to her even more. He admitted to himself early on that he really liked how she took charge of a situation and gave zero fucks. That was what she presented to everyone on the surface, anyway. She’d been hurt. Sensitive. Cautious to risk any more of her heart. The armor had thickened. Just like him.

In the end, they’d been pretty compatible. But, in hindsight, most of that had been due to his ability to bend and compromise. She didn’t tell him much about what she wanted. He had to guess. Trial and error. And that attitude had transferred to what happened in the bedroom.

Priestly wasn’t a fucking mind reader. He didn’t have a clue. He figured she liked confidence and showmanship between the sheets. The kind that could run a porn marathon without breaking a sweat.

But that wasn’t him. And he could only keep that up (heh, child) for so long.

The same went for the preppie exterior he tried on to win her over. A few weeks after their first kiss, he snuck back on one of his piercings. Then another. And another. And another. Then the hair got dyed (fuschia). Then spiked up with gel. Next, he sported some eyeliner. He pulled out a signature statement t-shirt here and there. Dusting off the kilt might have been the last straw for Tish.

But he wanted to like the reflection in the mirror. All that skin-shedding pleased Tish. Not him.

So, the relationship met its inevitable conclusion and broke his heart. They’d agreed to revert to friendship status. He hadn’t expected Tish to up and leave a couple of months after that, though.

Jen had said it best one day. Tish probably couldn’t piece herself back together again here, around him. Fresh start and all. Finding your fucking self and all that bullshit.

That was all fine and good for everybody else. How was he supposed to figure that out for himself? Would he ever find someone that was willing to learn that along with him?

*

The zoo minion had been quite helpful for Rowena. Three gates unlocked in total. He’d made suggestions on the best direction to begin the owl search after her explanation on where they liked to hide. She’d thanked him kindly, pilfered his tiny flashlight, and then wafted a Forget Me spell over the man. “You won’t remember me or any of this. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of the night off? You deserve it for being soooo helpful.”

He toddled off repeating, “Sooo helpful.”

Times like this, an assistant in the dark arts would be a boon. This kind of menial labor, well, it was beneath her to be honest. Having to scour grasslands for a hole in the ground? She might as well be a pig, snout covered in dirt, snuffling for truffles.

Though truffles were delicious, she was in search of a Burrowing Owl. She’d done her research of course. No self-respecting witch starts something without the proper information. Sourcing all the ingredients for this divination spell –one of her own crafting– was a daunting task. But, what was the saying these Americans liked to bandy about? Go big or go home?

And one didn’t diddle with the Grand Coven without a well thought out plan. One required impregnable magic that a dozen of the most powerful witches on the planet would attempt to untangle.

Rowena held more power in her pinky finger than any of them before the Coven had punished her egotism and shackled her abilities. She needed to get that power back and back at them in the process. But in order to find what would cut right to the core, divide and conquer, would require eavesdropping. The divination spell would uncover the cloaked locations for those she needed to sentence for their condemnation.

Rowena’s eyes had adjusted to the dark. Silhouettes danced around the beam of white cast by the flashlight. Flying insects sparkled in the halo of light like falling snow. Her toe boots dug into the dirt here and there.

What would she do if this didn’t work as she hoped? She’d paid a high price for what she’d been told were the feathers of a Burrowing Owl on the black market. When the spell fell flat the only thing that could have been incorrect were the bloody feathers. But who would she complain to or demand a refund? Boris, or whatever his name was, wasn’t registered with the Better Business Bureau. She already had enough enemies.

So, it appeared serendipitous when an invitation for the Beastly Ball landed in her mailbox. She’d made a call to the LA Zoo’s information center and chatted with a lovely woman. The tale of having a daughter obsessed with owls spilled with ease and believability. This made-up child had been going on and on about an owl that squatted in another animal’s home in the dirt. They were in luck. It just so happened the zoo had a burrowing owl in their exhibit. The woman on the other end did warn Rowena her daughter might be disappointed, though. The chances of seeing one during the day were quite rare. 

Oh well, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d disappointed an offspring. 

More importantly, the universe sent her a clear message.

Take matters into your own hands.

Several minutes passed. A strong breeze rustled swaths of grass. Lots of ginger steps and toe boot shovels later, she came across a promising hole. Her heart raced. She bent down to inspect with a ruffle of fingers along the grass. A sharp quill pricked her thumb. Her hand cascaded over the soft frills of a feather. Then another. And another.

Hopefully, the feathers belonged to an owl that had fit itself into the burrow of another animal (or a facsimile of one made by a staff person). It had to be a Burrower!

Three feathers snatched off the ground were stuffed into her swag bag. Rowena surmised they would have fit into her little clutch as well. However, the bag proved an auspicious benefit souvenir.

She rose and dusted off her hands. Eyes closed, she inhaled deep, then exhaled. When she opened her eyes, she oriented her direction as best she could. She could reverse-track the way she came. A sigh released from her throat, satisfied. One step closer. She began the journey.

She passed once again through the forested area of the exhibit, which, in her opinion, better-suited owls. The sharp smell of pine filled her nose.

Her steps halted at the alien chuckling right above her head. Rowena stared up and squinted. She debated for a moment before shining the flashlight upon the sound source.

A set of bright yellow eyes peered back at her. It chuckled again. The tiniest owl Rowena had ever seen wasn’t spooked by the light. It couldn’t have been any bigger in stature than her hand.

“Aren’t you a curious little thing?”

It tilted its head as if answering in the affirmative. Rowena could make out expertly lined white eyebrows created by its feathers.

Rowena had always wanted an owl.

Was this another message from the universe?

Rowena pursed her lips.

There was only one way to find out.

*

Priestly stood under the spotlight by the Night Wing exhibit map. He’d learned a few new interesting facts about bats and owls as he continued to read.

A commotion within the fenced area pulled his attention from the signage. A figure bursted from the tree line a couple of yards away. He jumped back in surprise. “What the…”

He squinted. Crouched on the ground, the person gasped, almost hyperventilating.

He blinked in recognition. It was the red-headed woman earlier from the food tent who’d made quite an impression. “Are you alright?” he stammered out the question.

Her head shot up. Wide eyes stared back framed in a wild mess of curls. He gulped at the skin on display under the lamp post light. Tiny red marks crosshatched along her arms and bare back. She clutched a tote over her chest. The top half of her dress hung in tatters over her belt.

Priestly raised his hands and approached slow. “What happened?” He knelt beside her.

“I-I-” She waved a hand, arms tight to her sides so the flimsy bag’s material could preserve some modesty. “I went down that path” –she pointed back from where she appeared– “and, a bunch of the exhibit gates were opened.” Her voice cracked. “Before I knew it, there were owls and bats, everywhere, and I-I got caught in this awful melee.”

Priestly wanted to pat her in comfort. But, considering she was half-naked, he thought better of it. “The gates were opened?” he asked, incredulous. He scanned the path as far as he could in both directions. “Where the hell’s an employee when you need one? Is this Best Buy? They were everywhere a little while ago.” He muttered to himself before gazing at the woman. “You’re hurt. I’m gonna go get some help.”

He rose, only to be snatched up into a fierce embrace. She fisted his vest with both hands. The tote’s canvas material, which held some stiff objects, smushed tight between their bodies. “No,” she begged. “Please, don’t get anyone. I’m in such a state. I’ll be mortified.”

Priestly lifted his hands up and away so there was no chance of an accidental brush or touch. He felt like the one in trouble at the moment. “Um,” he thought out loud. An idea formed. “Listen, you need to get looked at by someone. But let’s work on getting you out of here first. Okay?”

She nodded into his chest. He inhaled. Her scent was rather pleasant. Spicy and sharp. 

“Why don’t you go behind that sign there? I’ll give you my shirt to put on.”

“Alright.”

He breathed in relief when she released him. A fast blur scurried around the area map. Without wasting time, he peeled off his vest, dropped it to the ground, and then tugged the T-shirt over his head by the collar. He turned around and stepped backward until his side hit the hardwood of the sign. “Here.” Eager fingers snatched the material from his hand.

“Thank you.” 

The lilt in her voice fluttered Priestly’s heartbeat. Goosebumps formed on the back of his neck. He wanted to blame it on the cool air skirting along his bare chest. “No problem,” he said. He tried again. “Are you sure I can’t go and look for some help? I think I saw a medical tent near the stage.”

“No!” She expelled the word with force from her throat that time.

“Sure. Sure.” He mumbled as his gaze scoured the ground. He picked up the discarded vest and plunged his arms through the openings. The benefit coordinators probably wouldn’t appreciate a punk Tarzan impersonation.

“I’m very grateful for this. Truly.” The woman called out. “What can I call you, besides my knight in shining armor?”

He chuckled. “Um, Priestly.”

“Presley?”

“No, Priestly.” He emphasized the “t”.

“Oh. Priestly,” she repeated. “I’m Rowena.” Her voice was closer now, no barrier between them.

Cautious, Priestly looked up. He couldn’t help but smile at the vision before him. She stuffed the remnants of her dress in the big bag. The forest green shirt, slightly roomy on him, swallowed up her slight frame. She’d wrapped the big black belt around it. The bottom hem fell just above the top of her thigh high boots. Her fingers threaded through the mane of hair to wrangle it in place. “I wish we could have met under better circumstances, Rowena.”

She sighed and grinned at him. “Aye. But, we might not have met again if not for this.”

He recalled her flirtation from earlier. He stared at the design and text on the shirt he had custom made for the Beastly Ball. A cartoon panda munched away on some bamboo. A text bubble above the panda’s head declared in big, bold font: Raw Dog Me, I’m a Bottom.

She strolled over and rested a hand on his vest. “How can I ever repay such chivalry?” She whispered something else after the question… something he couldn’t make out.

Before he could ask her to repeat what she’d said, his thoughts clouded. Nothing seemed very important at the moment. A sense of relaxation washed over him.

“I would very much appreciate a walk back to my car, Priestly. And, I promise I’ll make sure I get myself straight to a hospital.”

He nodded. His head bobbed and swayed. “Good idea. I mean, yeah, bats and owls. You probably need a rabies shot.”

“Probably so.” She nodded in agreement. Her grin reached her ears. She held up a business card and tucked it in another one of his vest pockets. “But, you. You’re going to stop by my shop soon to pick up this shirt, aye?”

He smiled, then nodded. “Aye.”

~~To Be Continued~~

Story Notes: Google pics of a Burrowing Owl and the absolutely adorable Elf Owl. I have plans for this story to fill four bingo squares over as many parts. Things are gonna go off the rails (and probably quite smutty). Will see how my first foray into writing for Priestly goes. Also, so many thanks to @sam-is-my-safe-word for brainstorming all the chaos and kink with me.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

♫ ― 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐙 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓!

series!

to be written!

mini series!

to be written!

oneshots!

to be written!

drabbles!

to be written!

head canons!

to be written!

[jaylarkson]

Masterlist

The masterlist to my fanfictions (please let me know if the links don’t work)

I write for a lot of fandoms, so just shoot me an ask and I’ll do my best!

Antisepticeye x reader

Stomach Pains and found Voices

Beauty and the killer

Anti x nb!reader hcs

Hot chocolate and rainy cuddles

Jacksepticeye x reader

Nightclub numbers

Darkiplier x reader

Self-esteem hit drabble

Sam Winchester x reader

Tables and drawings

Tension and supply runs

Where they kiss you- preferences

Sam with a contortionist S/O hcs

Falling in shots

Dean Winchester x reader

Where they kiss you- preferences

Dean’s Leather Jacket

New Year’s

Kisses and Cars

Castiel x reader

Rings and dinners

Sherlock Holmes x reader

Period pains and snuggles

Benedict Cumberbatch x reader

Pizza and Rome

Boaz Priestly x reader

Hands and kisses

Barry Allen x reader

Faces and Coffee

Harry Potter and the slapped butt retaliation

Avengers x reader

Avengers preferences- their nickname for you

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Dream of love

Mistaken Identities

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

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[lorilane33]

Baby - Pt. 2

Pairing: Boaz Priestly

Word Count: 2,718

Warnings: Daddy!Priestly. Yes that's warning, and with good reason, fluff, insecure Priestly for like two seconds FLUFFFFFF!!!!

Prompt: “Small fire! I said to set a small fire! This is not small!”

If you have no idea what’s going on here’s part one

You are completely impressed with how well he interacted with her. Seeing him with Isabelle made you want kids with him, and suddenly you get an idea. As the lights go dark in the auditorium to signal the beginning of the concert you move your arm up to rest behind Priestly, letting your fingers play with the hairs at the base of his neck. Leaning over gently you press a kiss to Priestly’s cheek. Then, what you whisper in his ear causes him to freeze and let out the smallest of groans. “Pries, you’re such a natural with her. Maybe when we get home you can let me sit in your lap and we can make our own baby for you to love on. Or at least we can start trying.”

The concert ends, and the audience gives the children’s choir a standing ovation. For a kid’s choir, they did pretty damn good. You stand up with everyone else and notice that Priestly is still sitting with Isabelle, rocking her gently as she continues to suck on her binky in her sleep. Sitting back down you reach out to run your finger softly across her cheek. 

“Pries, you’re doing so well with her; you’re a natural.” You turn and smile at him. “But you do realize that she has to go back to Krista, right? We can’t keep her.”

He gently cradles her closer to his chest. 

“Are you sure we can’t just take off with her? I’m pretty sure that Krista and Mark wouldn’t mind trying for another one,” he smirks. 

Audience members start filing out of the auditorium all in a buzz over the concert. Krista turns around and beams at Priestly as she sees him holding Isabelle. She laughs as she says, “And you said you weren’t a kid person. Isabelle seems to have taken to you quite well, actually.” 

You reach out to carefully take Isabelle from Priestly’s arms, place a kiss to her forehead and stand. Leaning over the seat in front of you, you settle Isabelle into her waiting car seat and buckle her in. One last caress of her wispy blonde hair and you look up. “Thanks for letting us entertain her during the concert, Krista. I may or may not have baby fever so getting to hold her for a bit was satisfying.” You smile and hug your friend.

Krista winks at Priestly as she stands there hugging you. “I should be thanking you! It was nice to actually enjoy the concert. Plus, let’s call it practice for you two. Y/n, you already have the ring and we all know that Boaz here can’t keep his hands off of you,” you squeal as you immediately feel Priestly’s hand connect with your ass with a solid slap as he confirms what Krista has just said.

The three of you start laughing. Through the laughing Krista continues. “See, Y/n? He’s insatiable when it comes to you! Anway, I better get Isabelle home. It was so great catching up with you, Y/n! Text me and we can grab brunch sometime. I miss you!” She picks up the baby carrier and heads out of the auditorium. 

Reaching out to lace your fingers with Priestly you say with a smile, “Come on, lover boy. Let’s go home.”

The two of you make it home and decide to make a bonfire in the fire pit Priestly surprised you with on your most recent birthday. Taking the fire starter and the lighter outside you hear Priestly behind you. “Hey babe, you go ahead and get a small fire going. I’m gonna grab the blankets.”

Continuing on you call back behind you. “Okay! You’re the best!” 

You look from the logs to the kindling and back again. The cold is chilling you to the bone so you decide a bigger fire would be a warmer fire, and a warmer fire will warm you faster. An arc of lighter fluid connects with the logs in the pit as you douse them heavily before setting the bottle down on the ground next to your feet. The sound of a match being struck fills the cold night air as Priestly shows up beside you holding a couple of blankets.

The lit match lands haphazardly on the pile of wood, instantly setting the wood ablaze with giant flames as Priestly exclaims while backing up, “Y/n! What are you doing?! Small fire! I said to set a small fire! This is not small!” 

Giggling you turn and walk to him while rolling your eyes, “Pries, you’re such a drama queen. You do realize that it’s absolutely freezing out, right? My logic says that if I’m cold, warmth is needed; more wood and lighter fluid equals more heat. Am I wrong?” 

“Baby, you’re not wrong, But, fuck! You could at least warn a man!” He sets the blankets down on the lawn chair and reaches to wrap his hands around your waist. Crackles and pops can be heard coming from the fire pit as the flames begin to settle to a somewhat normal size. Priestly smiles, pulls you close and lightly nuzzles his nose against yours. 

You hum contentedly as your hands run up his arms to hook around his neck. Opening your eyes you see him looking at you softly. 

“Hey,” you say with a timid smile. 

“Well, hey back Ms. Y/l/n. You sure are looking beautiful tonight,” Priestly whispers back, careful not to upset the quiet bubble you two have established.

Your smile widens as your fingers let go from around his neck to run your fingers through the short, purple hair at the base of his neck and then bring them around to lightly trace over the features of his face, coming to rest with your hand gently cupping his cheek. 

He nuzzles into your palm as you respond. “Why thank you, Mr. Priestly. And, it’s only six more weeks until it’s Mrs. Priestly, remember?”

Priestly’s smile is so big he can barely contain himself. His arms wrap completely around you, pulling you into his arms and against his chest. “Of course I remember, babe. I really wish those weeks were gone, though. I wanna marry you already so I can call you my smokin’ hot wife!”

Suddenly remembering your conversation from earlier you smirk as you look him in the eye. “Oh sweetie, you will be able to call me that all you want after we’re married.” placing a firm kiss on his lips you continue. “But here's an idea. What if we were to get a head start on that one thing I mentioned at the concert tonight, and you got to call me your smokin’ hot baby mama?”

Furrowing his brow, Priestly thinks back on what had been said earlier that night. Suddenly you feel his arms squeeze you a little tighter as his face lights up in realization. “You mean it?” He presses his forehead to yours. “You wanna try for a baby? Y/n, are you sure? I mean, are you sure that it’s a good idea? I just don’t want-”

“Babe, are you saying you still don’t think you’d be a good dad?” You feel him nod against your forehead as you continue.You looked him dead in the eye. “Do you not remember the concert at all? You were perfect with Isabelle, Pries! Watching you with her made me 100% sure that you’d be the best daddy ever, okay? I would love to try for a baby with you, whether it be tonight, or next week, or next year. But regardless of when we try, I do want to try. Having a baby with you is my dream now, babe.”

Priestly presses a soft kiss to your lips and smiles as he pulls away. “You really think I’d be the best daddy ever?” You smile gently and nod your head. “I have to be honest though, the only reason I’d be the best daddy is because I’d have the best mommy by my side.” 

Suddenly, Priestly pulls away from you. Placing the lid on the fire pit to kill the fire he turns back to you with a wicked smile on his face. He then reaches his hands out to wrap around your waist as they quickly come into contact with your ass to give it a firm squeeze.  “Well? Wanna start trying, future Mrs. Priestly?”

Half giggling, half moaning, you respond. “What are you waiting for, big boy? Let’s go make a baby.” You reach up and roughly pull his neck to you, your mouth colliding with his. In a flurry of hot kisses and groping hands the two of you barely manage to make it back into your bedroom, a trail of forgotten clothing behind you. 

1 year later

The night of your niece’s concert turned out to be the night your Calliope was conceived; Priestly had made sure of that. A smile comes to your face as you recall what he had said that night, that you weren't leaving the bed until he was sure you were pregnant. That led to an incredible night of lovemaking between the two of you. Six weeks later you married Priestly as planned, and you found out together the next morning that you were indeed pregnant. Seven months after that your beautiful daughter made her entrance into the world. 

Now? You listen to the stillness of the night and the hushed whispers coming from your daughter’s nursery. Missing your two favorite people, you throw the covers off of you and pad down the hallway to the open door of the nursery. Careful not to disturb your husband by letting him know you were there, you stand just out of his line of sight listening to what he is saying to your three-month-old daughter as he rocks her.

“You know Calliope, I'm just going to be honest with you here. You're my favorite little person in the entire universe and we have your gorgeous mama to thank for that. She is so strong, and smart, and so fucking beautiful. Oh, shit. Don't tell your mama that I said that. Ah, crap. I did it again. We’ll just keep it between us, okay? Sorry, princess. If your mama finds out I'm cursing in front of you she’ll kill me. Anyway, now where was I? Oh, yeah. I have no idea why your mom even picked me, sweetie.” 

You smile to yourself and roll your eyes as you hear him, but continue listening. “She is the most perfect human being I've ever been lucky enough to talk to, and she deserves the best. Just like you deserve the best. She could have married any guy, any guy she wanted, but she chose me. For some reason, out of all of the guys in the world, she wants to be with me. Which I still don't understand, but I'm not going to let her go. Ever. I will spend the rest of our lives proving to her every day that I love her with everything I am.”

Your eyes well up as you listen to your husband and at this point you think of letting your presence be known, but he continues before you can move. “Princess, I do hope you grow up to be exactly like your mama. You got my green eyes and my lips, which I'm excited about because let's be honest: I'm a lady killer. But I hope you got her inner beauty. She's one of the most kind-hearted people I know, and she's selfless too. Always concerned about everybody else. She cares so much about the people she loves, and her love for me blows my mind. Every. Single. Day. You, Calliope are going to be just like her. I can feel it in my bones.”

You hear him shift in the rocking chair, and a happy sigh comes from your daughter’s sleeping form as she settles deeper into Priestly’s chest. “But we both know that you're going to be a beautiful woman, I mean just look at who your parents are. I'm hot, your mama’s a stunner. Man, she's perfect. You're already the most beautiful baby I've ever seen. You’ll be even more beautiful when you grow up. Just, promise me one thing. No dating until after you're 25, okay? I promise I won't go Psycho Dad on your boyfriend if you don't bring one home before then.” 

Suddenly wanting to see your daughter you softly walk around the corner into the nursery, letting Priestly know you are there. He looks up at you will his eyes filled with love and adoration for the two girls he loves more than anything. Still talking in a hushed voice he smiles and greets you. “Hey, Mama. I heard Calliope start fussing and wanted to let you sleep. What are you doing up? Did I wake you?” 

Leaning down you press a soft kiss to his lips. “Nope, I rolled over and you weren't in bed. Heard your voice coming from in here and decided to eavesdrop on your conversation with our daughter.” Your smile curls into a smirk as you continue. “By the way, if Calliope’s first word is ‘fuck’, or any other curse word, I will kick your ass.” 

Priestly’s face turns bright red as he realizes that if you heard that part, it means you had eavesdropped early on and heard everything. “Ah, Nickelback. I've been caught red-handed, haven't I? So, you heard everything didn't you?” 

You watch as your husband stands, holding Calliope to his chest and walks over to her crib, gently swaying as he goes. He leans forward to lay her in her crib, pressing a soft kiss to her head before setting her down. Priestly then turns to you. 

You smile at your husband as you nod your head. “Yeah, Pries. I heard every word. Now, come here and let me hug my husband.” 

He eagerly walks towards you, his hands reaching out to wrap around your waist as he presses his face into your hair. You hum in contentment as you feel him press a kiss to your head. “Y/n, you know I meant every word of what I was telling our daughter.” 

He pulls away just enough to look you in the eyes. “Your strength amazes me every single day we’re together and I couldn't be prouder of the person you are, and the mother you've become for our daughter.” 

Pressing your face into Priestly’s chest to hide the blush that is dusting your cheeks, you hear him chuckle as his hands slip under his shirt that you're wearing as his hands come to rest on your ass. 

Your arms wrap around his waist as you listen to him. “Plus, if we're being honest, it's so hot getting to call you my smokin’ hot baby mama.” He emphasizes his point with another chuckle and a firm squeeze to your panty class behind. 

A giggle escapes you as you smile and look up into his green eyes. Priestly’s got a shit eating grin covering his face and you pretend to think for a second. You snake your arms up and around his neck, gently playing with the hairs at the base of his neck. Smirking, you respond. “Well Pries, I do love being your smokin’ hot baby mama, and who says we have to stop with one? I can still be a smokin’ hot mama to two kids.” You go up on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his lips.   

Priestly’s eyes grow wide as he realizes what you're saying. Before you can respond he picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist, pressing a kiss to your lips as he hurriedly walks the two of you back to your room. He walks through the door and nudges it shut with his foot as he walks over to the bed to lay you down on your back. 

He crawls up to meet you, letting your hips cradle his as he props himself above you. Running his finger lightly over your cheek he asks, “Y/n, are you sure you want to try for another baby? I mean Calliope is only three months old. We can always wait to-”

You reach up and quiet his rambling with a kiss. Cupping his face in your hands, you pull back to answer. “Yes, baby. I'm so sure I want to try again. I love Calliope so much, and I think she needs to have a little brother or sister.” 

Priestly kisses you as his hand trails down your body to rest on your hip. He ends the kiss, reaching up to kiss the tip of your nose. He then looks deeply into your eyes, showing you all of the emotions he's currently feeling. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he pulls you closer to him. “Okay, baby mama, you ready?” 

“You know it, baby daddy.” You giggle and nod your head as he places a fiery kiss on your lips, rolling you underneath him.

If you guys don’t want to be tagged, just let me know! :)

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[cheynovak]

Spikes

Summary: Y/N, a 16-year-old punk-loving girl, rushes to the Beach City Grill every day after school to see Priestly, the edgy and cool guy with a spiky mohawk and piercings, whom she's secretly in love with.

Warning: None, Priestly is just a nice guy to a love sick teenage puppy.

English isn't my first language

Please do not copy my work. Likes/Share/Comments are appreciated.

Y/N hated her school uniform. Every morning felt like a betrayal, pulling on the pleated skirt and stiff blazer that made her feel like a cookie-cutter version of everyone else. She missed her ripped jeans, band tees, and spiked accessories that were as much a part of her as her love for punk and metal.

As soon as the final bell rang each day, she was free—well, not totally. The uniform stayed on, but it didn’t matter. Y/N would ditch the blazer, roll up her sleeves, and sprint across town to the Beach City Grill. It wasn’t just for the sandwiches.

It was Priestly

Priestly was a walking work of art. His hair, styled into a spiky mohawk with streaks of bright red and electric blue, stood out as sharp as his personality. His face was pierced—nose ring, lip ring, and a few studs along his ears. He had these intense green eyes that seemed to look right through people, but his easy smile softened the edge. His sideburns connected to a perfectly sculpted goatee, and he always rocked some version of graphic shirt like he wore today.

Priestly wasn’t just some regular hot guy. He was cool unapologetically himself, and completely untouchable. Older, maybe by a few years, but Y/N didn’t care. She had it bad.

Every day, she’d walk in, heart racing, pretending like she wasn’t already imagining what his voice would sound like saying her name. She’d order the same thing—a soda or a milkshake if she was feeling daring—and linger by the counter, just long enough to catch his eye.

Today was no different. As she pushed through the door, the bell above jingling, she spotted Priestly leaning against the counter, fiddling with one of his bracelets. Her stomach did a weird flip-flop.

“Hey, Priestly,” she greeted, trying to sound casual.

“Y/N!” He gave her a grin that made her insides feel like melted vinyl. “Right on time, as always.”

She leaned against the counter, pretending to look at the menu even though she had it memorized. “Yeah, uh, can’t stay away from this place.”

She wasn’t sure if she meant the grill or him, but Priestly didn’t need to know that. Not yet.

She look at his wrist noticing the new jewellery. “that bracelet’s awesome."

Priestly glanced down and chuckled. “Yeah, thanks. I’ve had this one forever."

Y/N felt her pulse quicken. “I love it. Way cooler than this stupid uniform I’m stuck in every day.” She glanced down at the school-issued shirt in disgust. Then, without thinking, she reached up to finger her necklace—a black choker covered in metal spikes, one of the few remnants of her true style that hadn’t been completely stripped away by the school’s dress code.

Priestly’s eyes followed the movement, and his lips quirked into an appreciative smile. “Your necklace is badass, though. Spikes are killer.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. He liked it! Without thinking, she tugged the choker off and handed it to him. “You can have it,” she said quickly. “The principal’s been threatening to confiscate it if I wear it one more time. Might as well give it to someone who’ll appreciate it.”

Priestly blinked, taken aback, then grinned as he took the necklace from her. “Thanks, Y/N. Seriously. This is rad.” He looked at her like she was more than just the kid who showed up every day at his counter. “Here, let’s swap.”

Before she could protest, he unclasped his leather band and held it out. “I don’t think they can say anything about this at school, right?”

Her heart hammered in her chest as she reached out to take the bracelet. “I—uh—thanks.” She slid it onto her wrist, feeling the worn leather warm against her skin. It was a perfect fit. She was sure her face was burning, but she didn’t care. She had something of his now. Something real.

The silence between them stretched for a moment, comfortable but thick with something unsaid. Then Priestly tilted his head, his eyes studying her face more closely than they ever had before. “Y’know, Y/N, you come in here every day after school. Don’t you have, like, a club or friends to hang out with?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her face flushing even redder. “Uh, I just like the food here. And, um, you guys are just awesome to hang out with.”

Priestly raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but not in a mean way. “Just the food, huh?” He leaned forward on the counter, closer than usual, his voice gentle but knowing. “You’re a sweet girl, Y/N. But... I’ve gotta ask—why do you really come in every day?”

Her throat tightened. Oh, God. He knew. She fumbled for words, her heart pounding, but nothing coherent came out. All she managed was, “I, um... you... I'm s-sorry.”

Priestly smiled, and it wasn’t teasing. It was soft, almost apologetic. “Hey, it’s cool. I think you’re awesome, really. But... you’re still kinda young, y’know?”

Y/N’s face burned with embarrassment, but she nodded quickly, unable to meet his eyes. She knew. Of course, she knew. She was sixteen, still stuck in high school, and Priestly was already in his late twenties. There was no way he’d ever see her like that.

Still, her heart sank as Priestly gently patted her hand. “Maybe in a few years, yeah?” he said with a wink, trying to lighten the mood. “Who knows?”

Y/N couldn’t help the tiny smile that crept across her face. “Yeah... maybe.”

With the leather band secure on her wrist, she knew she’d remember this moment forever. At least Priestly didn't saw her as a freak like all those highschool boys.

--

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@kr804573 @nancymcl @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78 @whimsyfinny @kamisobsessed @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @ferrersbiggestfan @spxideyver @kamisobsessed @deans-queen @yvonneeeee @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @deansimpalababy @yvonneeeee @stoneyggirl2

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— ANY WAY THAT YOU WANT ME

SUMMARY : he’s clingy and doesn’t know how else to feel close to her. even though it gets them both riled up, it’s nice while it lasts.

PAIRING : boaz priestly x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS : nsfw(18+), cockwarming, fluff

WORD COUNT : 1.2k

A/N : omg, y’all, HEY. I’m sorry. LMAO, see y’all next week??? XXXXXX

“So you’re just not gonna move?” He asked, lifting his hips off the couch and lowering his pants. She nodded, about to explain some more to him. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked immediately after, taking in the view of her in a pretty pastel-blue bralette and matching underwear, which she was starting to push down her legs. 

“No,” she laughed, “why would you think that?” She straddled him, entertained by the way he tugged on his cock while he stared at the side, deep in thought and his only response was a shrug. She took his chin in her hand, made him look at her so she could kiss him softly. “This is supposed to be enjoyable and lazy.” 

He hummed softly, sounding a little doubtful, as if he already knew himself. His eyes remained glued on her face when she took him in her hand, not teasing herself the way she usually did, just pressed the soft head against her entrance, gently pushing into her, stretching her easily with the warm slickness that was there. 

She moved up and down slowly and he moaned, but he knew she was just making the way down easier for herself, less painful, more comfortable. He let her, grasped her thighs and looked away from her curious face to observe how wet she had his cock. He cursed softly, found himself so desperate he thrusted upwards sharply to push himself all the way in, her little gasp pulled him out of his daze.

“Shit, honey,” he said worriedly, “did I hurt you?” 

“No, just surprised me,” she smiled at him reassuringly, kissed his forehead and her lips lingered before she pulled away. He relaxed and nodded, his thumbs brushing gently over her hip bones, daring to look back down where she was now full with him. She must have been looking at him the whole time, because she grabbed the hem of his shirt, and lifted it up his tummy to get a better look at herself too. He felt himself throb inside her, knowing that she wanted to look, that she was enjoying this nearly as much as he was starting to, it made the muscles in his abdomen tighten delightfully. 

“Take it off,” he murmured, “I’m kinda hot,” he added. 

“Yeah, you are,” she flirted, but started to lift his shirt up, helped him take it off and threw it on the other side of the couch. He rolled his eyes at her at first, but then nodded, taking the compliment proudly. He slid his hands up her sides, wiggled his fingers underneath her bralette to cup her breasts, squeezing gently. 

Her nipples tightened under his gaze. He felt her walls squeeze around him when his thumbs brushed over her nipples, nearly stopping himself from going any further because he didn’t think he could just sit there and not have sex with her while he was inside her. It was worse when she squirmed, her back arching slightly, her hips undulating just barely, but enough to nearly drive him crazy. 

“How long do you expect me to last?” He asked breathily, shifting under her. She looked down at him, amusement sparked so obviously in her eyes, her lip twitching up into a smirk.  “Don’t get me wrong,” he murmured, pinching her nipples roughly, “love feeling you this close, but I can’t do it.” 

“Then stop doing that,” she said with a chuckle. She grabbed his wrists and moved them out from her silky bralette. He pouted at her, his eyes falling back to the thin material that covered her breasts, her nipples poking through. “Hey, let’s do something,” she suggested, forcing him to tear his eyes away from her chest. 

“Watch a movie?” He asked, more than a little disappointed when she moved off his lap. He stared at how slick he was. Looking up at her, he saw how triumphant she was by the beads of precum that quickly rolled down his dick. He blushed, nearly pulled his pants up to cover himself, but she stopped him. 

“Take all your clothes off,” she ordered.

“You too?” He asked, immediately doing as she told him to do. She looked down at herself and shrugged with a nod, and lifted the bralette up and off her body. He quickly stood up once he was naked, grabbed her waist and latched his lips onto her nipples. Her hands went to his hair, a title gasp slipping past her lips, knowing he was trying to tempt her, when he turned her and gently pushed her into the couch. 

“Boaz,” she warned, but he ignored her. His fingers went up her thighs, between her legs to massage her clit expertly. His teeth gently scraped her nipples, giving little licks to cover them in his saliva and moved his mouth down her stomach, left open-mouth kisses down body and replaced his fingers with his mouth to play with her clit. She grabbed his face and pulled him off her, “okay, now it is a punishment,” she told him breathlessly. 

He whined, moved up her body to kiss her lips passionately, silently asking for forgiveness and to stop her from going through with her newest idea, which to him was more tortuous than pleasurable. She kissed his back, held his face gently in her hands, tilting her head to let his tongue in. The softness and the warmth of it against her own made her moan, tasting something fruity and sweet in his mouth.

She would love nothing more than to have sex with him, but she wanted to push his buttons. She wanted to see how far he would let himself go, before he simply couldn’t just sit there. She didn’t think he’d get so desperate as quickly as he did, but even now, he rolled his hips against hers, sliding his cock through her folds and nearly pushing himself back into her, but a sharp smack of her small hand on his ass made him pull away in shock. 

She laughed softly, leaned up to kiss him again, wrapping her arms around his neck because she really wanted to give in now. But she didn’t, she slipped out from under him and he sat down, staring after her naked body bending over to get the TV ready for whatever she wanted to watch. It was just Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which made him relax, but the little smirk on her lips when she turned to face him made him excited and anxious all at once.

“You’re not serious,” he said incredulously, but she appeared far too amused to be joking. She took his bearded chin, smiled down at him, her thumb gently swiping across his lower lip so they automatically parted, ready for a kiss. She gave him one, a small, teasing kiss to his parted lips, innocent on the surface but so full of mischief. 

“Let’s see how long you last,” she murmured, sitting back in his lap. He tensed up, grabbed her hips and didn’t stop her from sliding back down his dick. His head fell back against the couch, trying to suppress a groan of pleasure and failing, his hands moved to her ribcage. 

“I can tell you now,” he muttered, “a few more minutes.” She laughed, rested her head on his shoulder and kissed his jawline. He smiled at her despite how tense and turned on he was, trying hard to ease his body and give her a few moments of peace before he tried again to go for what he wanted.

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

[sam-is-my-safe-word]

Read this. Then read it again. And again & again & again.

Pause a some point to google the owls. Then read it again now you know what the owls look like.

This is peak brain comfort food. Fluffy & sweet with some UST and a lot of hilarity.

I take credit for insisting Priestly wear the ‘Raw Dog’ shirt but everything else is pure Sandra genius.

I have a new fav het ship, read it & you will too!

Save A Tree, Eat A Beaver - Priestly x Rowena

“Save a Tree, Eat a Beaver” - Priestly x Rowena

Part 1 of Pets4Punks

Rating Teen (Part 1)

Priestly x Rowena

Tags: Mild Angst, Fluff and Flirting, Owls Go Bad, Zoo Shenanigans, Homage to Betty White, Spell Casting, A Comedy of Errors

Word Count: 3800

Priestly’s nursing a broken heart. Rowena’s exacting some magical revenge. What will unfold when these two meet at a Beastly Ball?

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Flirtation-Whiskey-A Mistake At A Zoo" square.

Image created in Canva (credit for photos used: “Ten Inch Hero”; movietvtechgeeks.com)

“Would that be an invitation, there, then?”

Priestly dabbed his brow with a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. It was hot in the food tent. Even if Beach City Grill was serving up pre-made hero sandwiches, bookending vendors grilled and fried their fare with furious abandon. Other heat factors included portable spotlights and generators. The warm night breeze created a tiny suffocating vortex under the tent for Priestly to inhabit.

Priestly panted. Hot didn’t seem like an accurate description. 

No. When you added in the thousand or so bodies at The LA Zoo’s 37th Beastly Ball, the temperature downright sizzled. 

Priestly attempted to blink away his discomfort. A cacophony dialed his irritation up to ten. People chattered. A DJ spun another record through an obnoxious sound system with speakers the size of refrigerators. Even if the funds being raised tonight benefitted the zoo, he couldn’t imagine a bear or lion being okay with any of this. If there weren’t barriers in the way, he was pretty sure this entire crowd would be mauled to death by some very irate mammals. He only had so much patience for the human race of which he was unfortunately a part.

At least he’d get to see Betty White in person tonight. She was the Beastly Ball Chairman. That woman was a national treasure. And probably the only one that would be spared if the animals rose up.

He sliced up another of the more popular menu items being gobbled up by donors. The Mane Attraction hero had been a hit with the carnivores as suspected. Despite the surging heat, he’d kept his nose down and worked in the background the entire evening. Piper and Jen were the all-smiles servers, front and center, greeting the deep-pockets milling about the food tent.

“‘Scuse me, lad?”

It was the addition of ‘lad’ to the second question from a very Scottish sounding woman that had him look up.

Turned out, he didn’t need to look up very high. An elegant, petite wisp of a porcelain lady stared up at him. One of her copper-tinted brows arched. Lush, fiery red ringlets cascaded from the top of her head to her pointy elbows. A dusty peach wrap made of silk hung and clung to a body made for ballet. The chunky black vinyl belt with a sequin studded buckle cinched the dress in at the waist.

She was magically delicious.

Priestly smiled and wiped the roast beef gravy from his hands. He then pointed to Jen manning the front table. “One of our lovely servers will be able to plate up anything you’d like to try, Miss.”

“Including you?” Her coral stained lips curled up into a grin.

Priestly froze. He had to have heard her wrong in the middle of all the noise. “I-I’m sorry, what?”

One of the woman’s expertly manicured fingers pointed at his chest. “Are you being canny with that shirt? Or, would that be an actual invitation, there, then?”

Priestly gulped. “Um…”

The woman offered a playful frown. “Well, when you get your voice back, you let me know the answer, aye?”

*

Rowena didn’t have time to wait for the pretty punk boy to remember how to form sentences. So, she’d sampled the vegetarian sandwich the mousy haired twenty-something called The Panda Munch and then it was off toward the animal habitats.

She had work to do and little patience.

The rowdy bunch of guests, chatting and being all kinds of obnoxious for over ten minutes, had taken root by a particular set of sanctuaries that held her interest. 

She stood by the guard rail on the opposite side of the walkway, sipping from a champagne flute. Her fingernails tapped the top of the fence. She gazed over at a nearby pond. The current inner debate in her head was whether she should ignite the shoes aflame of the loudest person in the group or temporarily immobilize his tongue.

The ticket to attend this pathetic attempt at a soiree had been overpriced. Good cause her arse. A good cause was exacting any bit of covert revenge she could toward the Grand Coven. An even better cause was finding a way to unshackle her powers.

And what she currently required –to fund the greatest cause, which was herself– could be pilfered more easily under the veil of night. Amid distracted security, overworked zoo staff, and intoxicated guests, what could go wrong?

Rowena sighed and eavesdropped on the eejit in the lavender polo shirt drone on about the Lakers. She watched him pretend to dribble out of the corner of her eye.

A majority of the upper echelon of Angelenos could be trite and vapid. All surface, no substance. But that also made them easy to grift. If she stayed under the radar for another year or two, her little shop might be a very lucrative business.    

An announcement interrupted the awful excuse for music emanating from the stage some ways off where most of the guests congregated. Betty White would be giving a speech in about ten minutes.

That got the group moving.

“Finally,” Rowena murmured. She abandoned the glass atop the guard rail and sashayed toward her target. Her gaze landed on a security camera high atop a lamp post. She whispered, “Confractus.” A satisfied smile emerged at the subsequent sizzle and crack from the surveillance equipment.  

*

“Go, take a break.” Jen shooed Priestly with her hands. “Betty’ll be on soon. I don’t want to hear you complain later about missing that.”

“Are you sure?” Priestly untied the black waist apron.

Jen nodded. “Anything that makes you smile should not be denied.”

Priestly knew Jen really wanted to say, “We’re sick and tired of seeing you all mopey since Tish moved to New York.”

“Maybe you can get her to autograph your shirt,” Piper added with a giggle.

“Betty appreciates a dirty joke.” Priestly nodded with certainty.

Jen cleared her throat. “You’re definitely making a statement with it.”

“Oh! Don’t forget that dude at the Whiskey distillery stand said to stop by and get us some samples in exchange for these.” Piper shoved three wrapped sandwiches in Priestly’s hands.

“Right, I’ll go do that before Betty. Back faster than The Flash.”

*

Rowena had gotten turned around more than twice on the Employees Only path. Nestled amid the Night Wing area terrain, the dirt walk lacked signage for the untrained. A paltry number of floodlights scattered warm amber streaks here and there to guide the way.

Why didn’t the coordinators of this benefit include a flashlight in their extra large swag bag? “Buncha beetroots,” Rowena mumbled, hefting the cumbersome tote over her shoulder. At least she could have both hands free when needed later, what with her tiny clutch now in the bag’s bottom.

To add to the indecency of the two other cameras she had to decommission along the path, a staff member had chanced upon her stumbling through foliage in black vinyl thigh high boots. Steel nerves she’d forged over a few centuries rattled only for a second. The young male, whose time on this planet tallied up to nothing more than a couple decades, had been quite amicable. He’d politely offered to escort her to the main path. 

Rowena thanked him and followed his lead for a few yards while he made small talk. She fished out her clutch, found a hex bag, slipped it into his jacket pocket, and then glamoured him. He rotated slow and turned to face her. 

With syrupy sweetness, Rowena asked to be directed to the owl habitat entrance and unlock it. He stammered, with dilated pupils and enamored smile, that it was only his third day on the job and he didn’t know which gate that was. 

“Well, there shan’t be any harm in you opening up a gate or two for lil ole me, would there?” She batted her long lashes even though there was no need. Rowena did enjoy leaning into theatrics.

The junior zookeeper bobbed his head, turned, and floated back the way he came. “Follow me.”

*

The abrupt temperature change required Priestly to slip on his tartan plaid vest over his t-shirt. Away from the benefit crowd, the night air cooled slick spots of sweaty skin.

Listening to Betty White wax poetic about her love of animals had made all the hard work worthwhile. She’d even given him a cheeky little wink from the stage. Seriously, Priestly thought he might have a major crush on the woman. She was even funnier and more radiant in person than he’d expected. She could be his Golden Girl any damn day of the week.

After he, Jen, and Piper toasted with Whiskey samples to a job well done, he’d been released from cleanup duty. Excitement filled the segment of his brain in which the still six-year-old part of him resided. Okay, so it wasn’t like he was sneaking through the zoo. Staff members stationed at various checkpoints and exhibits nodded in greeting as he passed. But the grounds, typically experienced in the light and warmth of sunshine, now crackled with a forbidden energy.

It was nice to feel some excitement. His emotional state of late had been devastated. He hadn’t been able to shake himself out of the volley between self-pity and feeling responsible for Tish’s move. Maybe if he’d been more (more what, though), she would have stayed and they could have worked things out.

The three shots of whiskey had not helped the spiral of self-doubt. He hadn’t been enough. Pure and simple. Had it been juvenile to think his “normal” makeover would have been the key to winning over the girl of his dreams? Of course. Did that make it hurt any less that it hadn’t worked out? Of course not.

He recalled the flirty, testy banter with Tish over the years. She could slap him onto a sizzling griddle or submerge him in a bucket of ice with that sharp tongue and flippant hair toss. That drew him to her even more. He admitted to himself early on that he really liked how she took charge of a situation and gave zero fucks. That was what she presented to everyone on the surface, anyway. She’d been hurt. Sensitive. Cautious to risk any more of her heart. The armor had thickened. Just like him.

In the end, they’d been pretty compatible. But, in hindsight, most of that had been due to his ability to bend and compromise. She didn’t tell him much about what she wanted. He had to guess. Trial and error. And that attitude had transferred to what happened in the bedroom.

Priestly wasn’t a fucking mind reader. He didn’t have a clue. He figured she liked confidence and showmanship between the sheets. The kind that could run a porn marathon without breaking a sweat.

But that wasn’t him. And he could only keep that up (heh, child) for so long.

The same went for the preppie exterior he tried on to win her over. A few weeks after their first kiss, he snuck back on one of his piercings. Then another. And another. And another. Then the hair got dyed (fuschia). Then spiked up with gel. Next, he sported some eyeliner. He pulled out a signature statement t-shirt here and there. Dusting off the kilt might have been the last straw for Tish.

But he wanted to like the reflection in the mirror. All that skin-shedding pleased Tish. Not him.

So, the relationship met its inevitable conclusion and broke his heart. They’d agreed to revert to friendship status. He hadn’t expected Tish to up and leave a couple of months after that, though.

Jen had said it best one day. Tish probably couldn’t piece herself back together again here, around him. Fresh start and all. Finding your fucking self and all that bullshit.

That was all fine and good for everybody else. How was he supposed to figure that out for himself? Would he ever find someone that was willing to learn that along with him?

*

The zoo minion had been quite helpful for Rowena. Three gates unlocked in total. He’d made suggestions on the best direction to begin the owl search after her explanation on where they liked to hide. She’d thanked him kindly, pilfered his tiny flashlight, and then wafted a Forget Me spell over the man. “You won’t remember me or any of this. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of the night off? You deserve it for being soooo helpful.”

He toddled off repeating, “Sooo helpful.”

Times like this, an assistant in the dark arts would be a boon. This kind of menial labor, well, it was beneath her to be honest. Having to scour grasslands for a hole in the ground? She might as well be a pig, snout covered in dirt, snuffling for truffles.

Though truffles were delicious, she was in search of a Burrowing Owl. She’d done her research of course. No self-respecting witch starts something without the proper information. Sourcing all the ingredients for this divination spell –one of her own crafting– was a daunting task. But, what was the saying these Americans liked to bandy about? Go big or go home?

And one didn’t diddle with the Grand Coven without a well thought out plan. One required impregnable magic that a dozen of the most powerful witches on the planet would attempt to untangle.

Rowena held more power in her pinky finger than any of them before the Coven had punished her egotism and shackled her abilities. She needed to get that power back and back at them in the process. But in order to find what would cut right to the core, divide and conquer, would require eavesdropping. The divination spell would uncover the cloaked locations for those she needed to sentence for their condemnation.

Rowena’s eyes had adjusted to the dark. Silhouettes danced around the beam of white cast by the flashlight. Flying insects sparkled in the halo of light like falling snow. Her toe boots dug into the dirt here and there.

What would she do if this didn’t work as she hoped? She’d paid a high price for what she’d been told were the feathers of a Burrowing Owl on the black market. When the spell fell flat the only thing that could have been incorrect were the bloody feathers. But who would she complain to or demand a refund? Boris, or whatever his name was, wasn’t registered with the Better Business Bureau. She already had enough enemies.

So, it appeared serendipitous when an invitation for the Beastly Ball landed in her mailbox. She’d made a call to the LA Zoo’s information center and chatted with a lovely woman. The tale of having a daughter obsessed with owls spilled with ease and believability. This made-up child had been going on and on about an owl that squatted in another animal’s home in the dirt. They were in luck. It just so happened the zoo had a burrowing owl in their exhibit. The woman on the other end did warn Rowena her daughter might be disappointed, though. The chances of seeing one during the day were quite rare. 

Oh well, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d disappointed an offspring. 

More importantly, the universe sent her a clear message.

Take matters into your own hands.

Several minutes passed. A strong breeze rustled swaths of grass. Lots of ginger steps and toe boot shovels later, she came across a promising hole. Her heart raced. She bent down to inspect with a ruffle of fingers along the grass. A sharp quill pricked her thumb. Her hand cascaded over the soft frills of a feather. Then another. And another.

Hopefully, the feathers belonged to an owl that had fit itself into the burrow of another animal (or a facsimile of one made by a staff person). It had to be a Burrower!

Three feathers snatched off the ground were stuffed into her swag bag. Rowena surmised they would have fit into her little clutch as well. However, the bag proved an auspicious benefit souvenir.

She rose and dusted off her hands. Eyes closed, she inhaled deep, then exhaled. When she opened her eyes, she oriented her direction as best she could. She could reverse-track the way she came. A sigh released from her throat, satisfied. One step closer. She began the journey.

She passed once again through the forested area of the exhibit, which, in her opinion, better-suited owls. The sharp smell of pine filled her nose.

Her steps halted at the alien chuckling right above her head. Rowena stared up and squinted. She debated for a moment before shining the flashlight upon the sound source.

A set of bright yellow eyes peered back at her. It chuckled again. The tiniest owl Rowena had ever seen wasn’t spooked by the light. It couldn’t have been any bigger in stature than her hand.

“Aren’t you a curious little thing?”

It tilted its head as if answering in the affirmative. Rowena could make out expertly lined white eyebrows created by its feathers.

Rowena had always wanted an owl.

Was this another message from the universe?

Rowena pursed her lips.

There was only one way to find out.

*

Priestly stood under the spotlight by the Night Wing exhibit map. He’d learned a few new interesting facts about bats and owls as he continued to read.

A commotion within the fenced area pulled his attention from the signage. A figure bursted from the tree line a couple of yards away. He jumped back in surprise. “What the…”

He squinted. Crouched on the ground, the person gasped, almost hyperventilating.

He blinked in recognition. It was the red-headed woman earlier from the food tent who’d made quite an impression. “Are you alright?” he stammered out the question.

Her head shot up. Wide eyes stared back framed in a wild mess of curls. He gulped at the skin on display under the lamp post light. Tiny red marks crosshatched along her arms and bare back. She clutched a tote over her chest. The top half of her dress hung in tatters over her belt.

Priestly raised his hands and approached slow. “What happened?” He knelt beside her.

“I-I-” She waved a hand, arms tight to her sides so the flimsy bag’s material could preserve some modesty. “I went down that path” –she pointed back from where she appeared– “and, a bunch of the exhibit gates were opened.” Her voice cracked. “Before I knew it, there were owls and bats, everywhere, and I-I got caught in this awful melee.”

Priestly wanted to pat her in comfort. But, considering she was half-naked, he thought better of it. “The gates were opened?” he asked, incredulous. He scanned the path as far as he could in both directions. “Where the hell’s an employee when you need one? Is this Best Buy? They were everywhere a little while ago.” He muttered to himself before gazing at the woman. “You’re hurt. I’m gonna go get some help.”

He rose, only to be snatched up into a fierce embrace. She fisted his vest with both hands. The tote’s canvas material, which held some stiff objects, smushed tight between their bodies. “No,” she begged. “Please, don’t get anyone. I’m in such a state. I’ll be mortified.”

Priestly lifted his hands up and away so there was no chance of an accidental brush or touch. He felt like the one in trouble at the moment. “Um,” he thought out loud. An idea formed. “Listen, you need to get looked at by someone. But let’s work on getting you out of here first. Okay?”

She nodded into his chest. He inhaled. Her scent was rather pleasant. Spicy and sharp. 

“Why don’t you go behind that sign there? I’ll give you my shirt to put on.”

“Alright.”

He breathed in relief when she released him. A fast blur scurried around the area map. Without wasting time, he peeled off his vest, dropped it to the ground, and then tugged the T-shirt over his head by the collar. He turned around and stepped backward until his side hit the hardwood of the sign. “Here.” Eager fingers snatched the material from his hand.

“Thank you.” 

The lilt in her voice fluttered Priestly’s heartbeat. Goosebumps formed on the back of his neck. He wanted to blame it on the cool air skirting along his bare chest. “No problem,” he said. He tried again. “Are you sure I can’t go and look for some help? I think I saw a medical tent near the stage.”

“No!” She expelled the word with force from her throat that time.

“Sure. Sure.” He mumbled as his gaze scoured the ground. He picked up the discarded vest and plunged his arms through the openings. The benefit coordinators probably wouldn’t appreciate a punk Tarzan impersonation.

“I’m very grateful for this. Truly.” The woman called out. “What can I call you, besides my knight in shining armor?”

He chuckled. “Um, Priestly.”

“Presley?”

“No, Priestly.” He emphasized the “t”.

“Oh. Priestly,” she repeated. “I’m Rowena.” Her voice was closer now, no barrier between them.

Cautious, Priestly looked up. He couldn’t help but smile at the vision before him. She stuffed the remnants of her dress in the big bag. The forest green shirt, slightly roomy on him, swallowed up her slight frame. She’d wrapped the big black belt around it. The bottom hem fell just above the top of her thigh high boots. Her fingers threaded through the mane of hair to wrangle it in place. “I wish we could have met under better circumstances, Rowena.”

She sighed and grinned at him. “Aye. But, we might not have met again if not for this.”

He recalled her flirtation from earlier. He stared at the design and text on the shirt he had custom made for the Beastly Ball. A cartoon panda munched away on some bamboo. A text bubble above the panda’s head declared in big, bold font: Raw Dog Me, I’m a Bottom.

She strolled over and rested a hand on his vest. “How can I ever repay such chivalry?” She whispered something else after the question… something he couldn’t make out.

Before he could ask her to repeat what she’d said, his thoughts clouded. Nothing seemed very important at the moment. A sense of relaxation washed over him.

“I would very much appreciate a walk back to my car, Priestly. And, I promise I’ll make sure I get myself straight to a hospital.”

He nodded. His head bobbed and swayed. “Good idea. I mean, yeah, bats and owls. You probably need a rabies shot.”

“Probably so.” She nodded in agreement. Her grin reached her ears. She held up a business card and tucked it in another one of his vest pockets. “But, you. You’re going to stop by my shop soon to pick up this shirt, aye?”

He smiled, then nodded. “Aye.”

~~To Be Continued~~

Story Notes: Google pics of a Burrowing Owl and the absolutely adorable Elf Owl. I have plans for this story to fill four bingo squares over as many parts. Things are gonna go off the rails (and probably quite smutty). Will see how my first foray into writing for Priestly goes. Also, so many thanks to @sam-is-my-safe-word for brainstorming all the chaos and kink with me.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

♫ ― 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒!

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what i write: fluff, smut, angst, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, sick fics, urequited love, bad endings, platonic relationships (i.e family relationships, friendships, etc.), threesomes, polyamorous relationships.

what i do not write: self-harm, sexual offenses of any sort, non-con, dub-con, age-play, dd/lg, md/lb, any kind of sexual play, little space, scat, water sports, throw up, illegal or immoral age gaps, or just any kinks that do not include clearly stated consent, incest, cheating (on the reader), feederism, fat fetishizing, requested series/mini series, songfics, singing.

♫ ― 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

women: rowena macleod, meg masters, michonne hawthorne, maggie greene, rosita espinosa, penelope garcia, emily prentiss, jennifer jareau, tara lewis, elle greenaway, natasha romanov, wanda maximoff, tess servopoulos, ss harley quinn, annie 'starlight' january, rosalie hale, alice cullen, usagi yuzuha, kuina hikari, ann rizuna, kate sharma.

men: dean winchester, sam winchester, castiel, rick grimes, daryl dixon, glenn rhee, aaron hotchner, spencer reid, derek morgan, luke alvez, matt simmons, steve rogers, bucky barnes, tony stark, thor odinson, loki laufeyson, matthew murdock, peter parker (smut for college!peter only), james "logan" howlett, murphy macmanus, joel miller, boaz priestly, jim hopper, jonathan byers (smut for only s4), hughie campbell, billy butcher, mike schmidt, edward cullen, jasper hale, emmett cullen, carlisle cullen, charlie swan, jacob black (smut only for eclipse ➝ breaking dawn part 1-2!), chishiya shuntaro, arisu rhyohei.

[cheynovak]

The Beach City Reunion

Summary: Follows up fanfiction 'Spikes' Y/N returns to the beach city grill after 5 years. Meeting Priestly who has been going through a break up with Tish.

Warning: none

English isn't my first language

Please do not copy my work. Likes/Share/Comments are appreciated.

Y/N hadn’t set foot in Beach City Grill in five years. The place looked mostly the same—faded posters of bands on the walls, the familiar hum of music in the background, and the faint smell of fries and grilled burgers wafting through the air. But as she walked in, scanning for any trace of the old Priestly, her eyes caught on someone who almost looked like him… but not quite.

He was wearing a plain blue button-down shirt, his once vibrant, spiked hair now a subdued shade of brown with a matching beard, smoothed down to an almost painfully ordinary style. She blinked, wondering if she was imagining things.

“Priestly?!” she called out, half-questioning, half in disbelief.

He turned, and when he saw her, his face lit up like a firework. Before she could react, he was around the counter, pulling her into a warm hug.

“Y/N!” he said, grinning. “Wow, look at you! You’ve… changed!” She laughed, pulling back to look at him. “Me? Look at you! W-what happened?”

They slipped into one of the booths, and for a moment, Y/N couldn’t stop staring. She missed the wild, bold Priestly she’d once adored, and this version of him looked like he’d been smothered in beige.

He gave her a sheepish look, glancing down at his shirt. “Tish happened. She, uh, liked me better like this. Thought I should look ‘respectable’—whatever that means. I guess she thought I was only worth dating if I, well, dressed ‘normal.’ So I tried it for her, figured it was worth it if it made her happy.”

Y/N listened quietly, seeing a flicker of embarrassment and something else—something lost—in his eyes.

“Anyway,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck, “we broke things off a couple of months ago. She said I’d come back ‘begging for another chance,’ but… I don’t think that’s gonna happen. I realized I just don’t know who I am anymore. Lost myself somewhere along the way.”

She nodded, giving him a small, understanding smile. “Sometimes, you think someone’s worth changing for. But if it means you stop being you…” She trailed off, knowing he’d get it.

Priestly chuckled, a hint of his old spark showing through. “Yeah, funny to hear that coming from you."

She grinned, and he noticed a faint edge of her old punk style still shining through—rings on her fingers, a subtle black eyeliner that gave her an edge, But the spiked choker was gone and changed for a leather jacket.

“So,” he said, leaning in with a warm smile, “what about you? How’s life been since you flew the coop?”

She shrugged, feeling a mix of nostalgia and excitement bubble up. “A lot’s changed. I went to college, didn't finish, moved around a bit. I’ve grown up, well a little. Showed up at your doorstep.”

Priestly gave her a look—one of admiration, maybe even a touch of envy. “I’m glad you came back. You look good, Y/N. Like… like you didn’t lose yourself along the way, you grew, literally and figuratively, I like it.”

She felt her cheeks heat, but she kept her gaze steady. “Priestly, the guy who always makes a girl feel special." She smiles softly before adding, "I aways thought you were amazing just the way you were.”

His eyes softened, and for the first time in a long time, he looked like he believed her.

“Maybe it’s time to bring a little of that guy back,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. “The boring brown hair and button-downs were never really me anyway.”

They both laughed, the sound filling the grill as if nothing had changed at all. And as they sat there, catching up and reconnecting, Priestly felt like he was finally waking up from a long, colorless dream.

Y/N could feel Tish’s glare burning into them as she leaned across the counter to pay, with a mischievous smile. “Why don’t I take you shopping after your shift?” she suggested, tapping her fingers playfully on the countertop. “It’d be nice to catch up… and maybe ditch the corporate look. Show a little more of those tattoos again?”

Priestly glanced at Tish, who was shooting them daggers from across the room, and then shrugged with a little smile. “Yeah, yeah, why not?” he replied, his eyes lighting up. “I’ll see you at five.”

By the time they hit the first store, Y/N was buzzing with excitement. She dragged Priestly to every section, picking out things that she knew he would’ve rocked a few years back. A leather jacket here, a pair of torn jeans there. She even managed to dig up a kilt, holding it out with a grin that made him snort.

“Y/N,” he said, chuckling as he held the kilt up in disbelief, “I can’t wear this. Not anymore. I feel like a kid playing dress-up.”

Y/N’s grin softened. “You’re in your thirties, Priestly. Maybe a kilt isn’t the answer anymore,” she admitted, leaning against the wall of the dressing room. She looked at him thoughtfully, eyes gleaming with an idea. “But… do you trust me?”

He raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright. Go ahead, show me what you’ve got.”

Y/N set the kilt aside and walked over to a different rack, pulling out a pair of dark, well-fitted jeans and handing him a plain grey t-shirt. She added a pair of heavy black combat boots and a leather jacket to the ensemble. “Just try these,” she said, “I think you’ll be surprised.”

Priestly emerged from the dressing room a few minutes later, his expression shifting from skepticism to something closer to acceptance. He turned to her, hands stuffed in his pockets, giving her a shy, crooked grin. “Not bad, right?”

“Oh wow, not bad at all,” Y/N said, giving him a once-over feeling her cheeks burn. The jeans hugged his frame well, and the boots added a sturdy, rugged vibe. The t-shirt was simple, but it all brought back a hint of the old Priestly’s edge without trying too hard.

But she wasn’t done yet. “Alright,” she said with a wink, “one last stop.”

She drove him to a nearby barber she’d found online, and before he could protest, she leaned close, whispering her instructions into the barber’s ear.

"Oh and keep the beard." she said walking back outside. Priestly gave her a mock look of fear, but he settled into the chair, trusting her, despite his nerves.

A half hour later, Priestly emerged from the barber’s chair with his hair freshly styled. The sides were clipped short, but the top was left a little longer and tousled. No more mohawk, but it was still a look with personality—classic yet cool, modern but still a bit rebellious.

He caught his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his hair, and let out a slow breath.

--

Y/N's heart hammered as she watched Priestly walk toward her, his new look transforming him into a vision of the guy she’d fallen for as a teenager—familiar but grown up, rugged and effortlessly cool. She felt her old crush flare to life, burning through her like it had all those years ago. But now, she was older, and so was he, and the spark between them didn’t feel so impossible anymore.

While he’d been getting his hair cut, she’d slipped out to pick up a few finishing touches—things that would bring back a hint of the punk style they’d once shared. As he approached, she held out a heavy, silver chain and a studded leather belt. With a grin, she hooked the chain to his jeans, her fingers brushing against him as she added the belt.

But then, she pulled out something else—a small, worn leather bracelet with faded band logos, the same one he’d given her years ago in the Beach City Grill. She held it up, a little shy but determined, and carefully slipped it back onto his wrist, fingers lingering on the familiar worn leather.

Priestly looked down, his eyes widening. “You… you kept it?” His voice was soft, filled with something she couldn’t quite name.

Y/N nodded, feeling her cheeks heat as she looked up, meeting his gaze. “Of course I did. You were... well, it was special to me.” she said almost looking nervous.

Priestly looked at her, "How old are you now?" She still looked at him, his green eyes piercing her waiting for an answer. "I- Eh... 21." Priestly looked over her in the distance, clearly counting in his head.

They stood there in silence, the air thick while she waited for his reaction, still holding his wrist in her hands, feeling something electric. Her heart pounded so loudly she thought he must be able to hear it.

But before her nerves could make her say something stupid, Priestly reached out, cupping the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair pulling her closer.

He leaned down, his gaze searching hers for a split second, and then his lips brushed against hers, soft and warm, then deeper, like he’d been waiting for this moment as long as she had. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them—two people who’d found their way back to each other after years apart.

Y/N knew that what she had been waiting for ever since she was 16 was finally here. Priestly saw her, not as a teenage girl with a crush. But as a woman.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, still holding her close. "I did say 'maybe in a few years' didn't I?"

She laughed softly, feeling her heart swell.

“Welcome back, Priestly.”

--

Taglist -> Click here to add

@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla @thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27 @globetrotter28 @kindollss @muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch @deansimpalababy @livya99 @yvonneeeee @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @imsiriuslyreal

[cheynovak]

Help a girl out

Update.... It's done. I couldnt wait.

Y'all find it: Here

------

Hi everyone!

My ex-punk teenage self is trying to convince me to write a fanfic on Priestly, I seem to read a lot of SPN/the boys stories ( And I love them, don't get me wrong. 🥰 )

But I want to read more Boaz fanfiction since he was one of my first crushes. (I didn't even knew who Jensen was back then.)

So my questions for you:

Would you like those stories, or is he just a character we like but don't love enough to read about?

AND what kind of story do you like to read?

Oh!! And one other thing! If you have a Boaz Priestly story written... Feel free to tag me. ❤️

[deanbrainrotwritings]

jacklesverse bingo 2024 | MASTERLIST

most of these will be 18+ stories that include sexual or dark themes, individual warnings will be added for each one

yes, it’s me again, I’ll be doing this again, and bringing a few of the previous squares onto this one bc unexpected changes in life prevented me from getting to them LOL hopefully life doesn’t throw something heavier on me, I’m gonna collapse with this weight on me

sunburn [fluff, 1.8k]

description — you're the wedding planner for sam's wedding, it's at the beach and… well, dean at the beach

taglist

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

beau arlen masterlist

soldier boy masterlist

jensen ackles masterlist

jake gray masterlist

boaz priestly masterlist

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