#but. I need. energy drink for that for sure

[papaya-twinks]

get over it! - l.n - p.2

Warnings: Angst, swearing, mental breakdown, breaking glass.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - sorry this took so long, I was doing all Lando’s birthday ones x

parts 🧡

Time Skip - Formula One Baku Grand Prix Pre-Race

Baku had always been a city of contrasts—historical yet modern, chaotic yet beautiful. And today, it felt like the perfect reflection of Lando's mood as he walked down the paddock, his eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses, jaw clenched tight.

Since your little ‘incident’ with Lando at Qualifying, you’d made sure to steer well out of his way. You would rather not be blamed for his driving by Zak or Andrea anyhow. It did slightly piss off the mechanics on Lando’s side of the garage, however.

Your energy was something that helped a lot of them to keep going, and now you were steering clear of Lando’s while side of the garage. You hadn’t even noticed him sliding into Oscar’s garage, as you handed around drinks.

“Y/N,” he said, tapping you on the shoulder, your shoulders immediately raising defensively, your head turning away from, signalling your dislike in speaking to him. “Y/N," he pressed, this time with more urgency. "Can we talk?"

You shook your head, still not looking at him. "I don’t think there’s anything left to say,” you said simply, handing some of Oscar’s mechanics some drinks. "You’re avoiding me," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "You can’t just walk away, not after what happened,” he said firmly.

“Yes I can, besides, why do you even care? It’s not like you to do so,” you said, placing your tray down, taking some new cups from the stack. “Some of my mechanics are pissed about you not being in the garage and stuff,” he mumbled, slightly annoyed.

“Oh, and they made you drag your ass here to ask?” you asked, a scoff on your lips as Lando rolled his eyes. “Sorry for asking you to do your own damn job,” he snapped, his voice filling with the frustration and bite from earlier.

“Let me do my fucking job, and stop talking to me, then,” you said, your voice with equally as much spite as you glared at him, his jaw set firm, eyes narrowed. You rolled your eyes, walking past him, your chin held high - so what if he was a driver? He didn’t own you!

You’d had many fights with Lando, countless, some of them about such minor things, you almost laughed when you looked back at them. Of course, there was a time, even after the Sochi incident, where maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he could have forgiven you.

But then again, it was Lando Norris. He’d do anything just to fuck shit up.

Flashback - 2021 Mexican Grand Prix

It had started innocently enough - a late-night discussion about his diet. He had asked you to double-check his hydration formula before heading to the gym. You’d pointed out that it didn’t seem balanced, that he'd been skipping meals. He’d brushed it off like it was nothing. But that was just the start. 

“Why do you always act like you know better?” he had snapped, voice low but cutting. “I’m the one racing out there. You’re just a helper,”. His words stung. You didn’t respond immediately, too shocked by the sudden shift in his tone. But when you did, your voice was tight with restraint.

“Just a helper?” you’d repeated, incredulous. “I’ve been working with you for years, Lando. Don’t act like I don’t know how to do my job,” you had said, your voice edged with a hint of shock and hurt. “You don’t work with me, Y/N, you’re not on my level, you won’t ever be on my level. You work for the team, at least get it right,”.

“You can’t just skip meals and expect your hydration to be perfect,” you had replied, a little more firmly. “Your body needs food to process all the fluids properly. If you’re running on empty, no amount of water is going to make a difference.”

“I’m fine,” Lando shot back immediately, his tone defensive. “I told you, I’m good. I just didn’t feel like eating. It’s not a big deal,” he said, his voice becoming more and more frustrated. Why couldn’t he understand what you were saying? And why did all your arguments have to be centred around water?

For a moment, it seemed like Lando was going to say something else, but instead, he crossed his arms, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. “I don’t need a babysitter, Y/N. I’m not a child. I know how to do my job,” he had said, his eyes narrowed once more.

The words hit harder than they should have. You’d been working with him for quite a while, supporting him in every way you could, and this was the first time you felt like he didn’t appreciate it. “I never said you were,” you had said, your voice cold now, your patience worn thin.

“But when you start acting like a diva and skipping meals while I’m the one having to pick up the pieces, then yeah, maybe I do need to step in,” you said, your jaw set firmly and your eyes narrowed. Lando opened his mouth to retort, but you turned away before he could, your back to him as you grabbed your tablet from the table.

Your hands had been shaking with frustration, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “I don’t have time for this right now,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “I’ve got a hundred other things to do,” you moved to his door, only stopped by his voice.

He didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel his eyes on you. After a long, charged silence, he finally spoke. “You think I’m just acting like a diva, huh?” he asked, his voice colder than you would have thought, sharp and almost like a snarl.

“Im not the one who fucking acts like I run the whole team off my own back - all you do is give water to people, Y/N, you’re useless!” he snapped, his voice raising as you flinched. “Useless? I’m not-,” you started, your own voice becoming louder.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Y/N! You think, just coz a few people like you, that you’re the one managing this whole team? You don’t do shit, Y/N, you’re not important! People would be sad you left your day or two and forget about it, okay? You’d be replaced in an instant, you have no skill!”.

All of this. Over a water plan. “I…fuck you, Lando,” you said, your eyes brimming with tears, voice cracking as you stepped out the door, not even sparing him a glance as you rushed away from him,”

Present Time - Formula One Baku Grand Prix

Sure, you were pissed at Lando, but it really wasn’t fair to take it out on the whole team, do, begrudgingly, you dragged yourself to Lando’s side of the garage to hand out refreshments, much to the relief of the mechanics and engineers.

Just imagining if Sochi had never happened in 2021, or you’d never said the comment that you’d said, it would’ve been some different, and you would’ve been cheering and going crazy with the team, watching Lando climb higher and higher from his low position.

You could practically feel the tension radiating off of Lando’s car, the stress of a potential championship fight that could be washed away due to one bad qualifying session, or the struggles of getting through to at least a points playing position, everyone was on edge.

Lando had a lot of positions to make up if he wanted to salvage his weekend, or at least begin to try and gain some points. And boy, did he make up positions. One after another, he passed car after car, refusing to let the mistake of qualifying 16th define his race. He was determined to prove himself.

As the race wore on, Lando's mood lifted. Every overtake, every clean pass, brought him closer to his goal. He had no idea what position he was in now—he was just racing, just pushing harder than he ever had. When the final laps came, he found himself fighting for 4th. And when he crossed the line, there it was: 4th place.

But all you could do was bury it deep inside of you and push Lando out of your mind - sometimes there were times when you wished you could have screamed and cheered with the team, like in Miami. But you had Oscar’s current winning margin to distract you from the hurt in the pit of your belly.

Time Skip - Post Race - Baku

The mechanics jostled round the garage, all talking, but slowly leaving, exiting the garage as the sky darkened, a pale shade of greyish-blue, a colour you found quite beautiful actually. Like a reflection of the ocean, in some ways.

“Why are you still here?” a voice snapped you from your train of thought, ruining what was otherwise quite a peaceful movement, your gaze forced sway from the clouds. “None of your business,” you scoffed, picking up your drinks tray from the side as Lando stared.

“I mean, kinda is,” he replied, his nose scrunched distastefully, like you were something or someone lower than him, which was how he perceived you anyways. “Everyone else has gone home,” he pointed out.

“Cheers Captain Obvious,” you said sarcastically, the glasses tinkling on your tray, some with lines of red wine at the bottom, beams of white from the lights above reflecting off the glass. “Whatever,” Lando said, his voice nearly a mumble as he dug he is hands into his pockets.

“Look, I’d appreciate if you stayed the fuck out of my way,” Lando said sarcastically, “I can’t stand your stupid presence,” he snapped, “there’s nothing to fucking be so happy about, I can’t have you annoyingly positive energy around all the time,”.

“Excuse me?” you said, not quite sure what to say after that little outburst of his came from. “You heard me, you’re stupidly positive and all you do is frolic around with that stupid little tray of yours,” Lando snapped, pushing the tray out of your hand, the plate clattering onto the floor, the glasses shattering at your feet.

“Lando, what the fuck is your issue?!” you half-screamed, scrambling away from the shards of glass scattered on the floor, cutting at the soles of your sneakers. “Just….fuck off, okay?!” he said, his curls a messy heap on his head, his eyes wild.

He looked on the verge of a full breakdown as you stared, in shock at the whole thing. He’d been fine a few seconds ago, what the hell had happened? “Lando, I didn’t-,” you started, raising your hands almost in surrender.

“I don’t care, I don’t care, Y/N!” he covered his ears, “Just fuck off!”. You said nothing, swallowing the lump in your throat as you stumbled back, away from the glassy heap on the floor, and rushing away from the garage. You’d never seen Lando break down before.

Was he…Was he okay?

[honeybelleee]

letter of the heart | s.jy

summary - when y/n finds a love letter at her locker, she has no idea who it's from, so she asks her best friend, jake, for help with what to say. jake, being the good friend he is, jumps in-giving advice, joking around, and even offering to "practice" her responses

pairings - jake x fem!reader

genre - highschool au, bestfriends to lovers, fluff

warning - jake’s a cute idiot <3

belle’s note - this is a continuation from @levandright’s work, make sure to read it first before reading mine <3

769 wc ! happy early birthday jake masterlist

after the day at lunch when you teased jake about knowing the letter’s author, the days that follow become a playful back-and-forth. jake is sure you’ve figured it out, but every time he works up the courage to confess, you give him a flirty look or make a teasing comment that throws him off completely.

one afternoon, as you and jake study together in the library, you casually slide the letter across the table. “so, jake, do you think my secret admirer has noticed that i haven’t written back?” you ask, feigning innocence.

jake blushes and stammers, trying to play it cool. “uh, well, maybe they’re, you know… waiting. for you to notice.”

you smile slyly. “is that what you’d do?”

jake nearly chokes. “i—i mean, i don’t know. probably?”

other moments leave him just as flustered. during lunch, you read a line aloud and tease, “you make me believe in all the little things that make life beautiful. isn’t that sweet?” jake almost spills his drink, his laugh a little too forced. “oh, uh, yeah… really sweet.” you lean in, eyes sparkling. “if it were you, how would you want me to respond?” his blush deepens. “uh… maybe something simple… like, ‘thanks, that means a lot?’” you pat his arm, pretending to think it over. “hmm. or maybe i should say, ‘i’d love to know more about these little things.’ just to keep him guessing.”

each teasing remark leaves jake in a fresh shade of red, more flustered and more convinced that you know. but you never say it outright, leaving him caught in an endless loop of nerves and excitement.

finally, you decide to end his suffering. that evening, you sit down and write jake a letter of your own. you keep it simple but sweet.

dear jake,

every time you help me with “advice” about my secret admirer’s letter, i can’t help but feel like you know a little too much about how they feel. so, here’s my reply to that mysterious person who said i made their world brighter.

you’ve brightened mine too. i hope you’ll meet me by the school gate tomorrow afternoon so i can finally say this in person.

much love,

y/n

the next day, jake is jittery with nerves. when he finds the note tucked into his bag, he reads it once, twice, and then once more, his heart thundering. you… feel the same? his mind races as he realizes this isn’t one-sided, and he can barely hold in his excitement. he spends the rest of the day watching the clock, ready to run to the gate as soon as the last bell rings.

after school, you’re walking toward the gate when you hear footsteps behind you. before you can turn around, jake is there, slightly out of breath, clutching your letter in his hand.

“y/n,” he blurts out, his voice rushed and filled with nervous energy. “i-i need to tell you something. i wrote the first letter. i didn’t mean for you to find it, but then you did, and i was just so nervous, and then you kept bringing it up, and i thought maybe you knew, but you never said anything, so i didn’t say anything, and—”

you can’t help but smile, watching him ramble on in his adorable, flustered state.

“jake,” you interrupt gently, stepping closer.

he doesn’t stop. “and then, i didn’t know if you’d be mad or think it was weird, and i was scared you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore, and—”

you place a finger on his lips, stopping him in his tracks. “jake,” you say, a teasing glint in your eye. “you talk too much.”

then, before he can say another word, you lean up and kiss him softly on the lips, silencing him completely. when you pull back, you see jake staring at you, wide-eyed, his face turning as red as a tomato.

for a moment, he’s speechless, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to process what just happened. then, he lets out a shy, breathless laugh. “so… you’re not mad?”

you laugh, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “mad? jake, i think i might’ve been waiting for you to tell me all along.”

he grins, his nervousness finally melting away. “well i’m glad you found the letter then.”

you both walk home together, hands brushing until jake shyly takes yours, his cheeks still pink but his smile bright and wide. the teasing and misunderstandings are finally over, leaving just the two of you and a new, sweet beginning.

jake will hv an amazing bday if u like/comment/reblog!

perm taglist - @ancnymcnzjy @june19190 @wiccangirl29 @shjsnjkj @who-tf-soddhi

©honeybelleee on tumblr!

[starclancy]

~ Playing Rough ~

PAIRING: AFAB/fem! Reader/timeskip!Kageyama

CONTENTS: ❣️ - smut

WORDCOUNT: 938

warnings: timeskip! characters, fem! reader mentions of sex (duh), fingering, teasing, lewd language

Request status: Open (lowkey running out of ideas😭)

MDNI | 18+ content

Your apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside the window. Kageyama had come over after a particularly intense practice. Even now, years after high school, he was still training with the same relentless intensity that you’d come to admire. He’d moved to play professionally, and while volleyball was his life, he’d always made time for you, carving out rare moments where it felt like it was just the two of you in the world.

He dropped onto the couch beside you, his body loose with exhaustion but his eyes still bright. The lights were dim, and as he shifted closer, you felt his knee brush yours. You’d spent so many nights like this, close but not quite close enough, both of you dancing around something unspoken.

“Thanks for letting me crash here,” he said, his voice low and just a little rough.

“Anytime,” you replied, unable to help the small smile that crept up as you glanced over at him. “Although it’s a good thing I like the smell of sweat. It’s all over you.”

He scoffed, leaning back and closing his eyes. “You’ve smelled worse.”

You rolled your eyes but felt the warmth creeping to your cheeks. Kageyama’s arm draped casually over the back of the couch, so close it would only take a small shift for you to be pulled into his warmth. The tension between you was thick, almost like it had a weight to it, pressing down, making your heart beat faster.

You took a deep breath and let yourself lean into him, just slightly, and the air between you grew hotter. He opened one eye, glancing down at you, as if he’d noticed the shift. For a moment, he was still, and then, slowly, he turned, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder, gentle and yet so firm.

Kageyama’s eyes, that intense blue you’d never quite been able to shake, flicked down to your lips, and you felt your heart stutter. The hand on your shoulder slid up, his fingertips grazing your neck, igniting a spark that made your breath catch.

“Are you…okay with this?” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, unable to find your voice as his lips brushed yours. The kiss was slow at first, careful, like he was afraid of moving too fast. But soon, you felt him lean in, the kiss growing deeper, more intense. His hands traced gentle patterns over your back, pulling you closer, until there was no space left between you.

He tasted faintly of the energy drink he’d downed earlier, and as your hands moved to trace the toned lines of his shoulders, you felt the soft hitch in his breathing. His fingers tightened against your skin, grounding himself, as if he wanted to make sure this was real, that you were here with him.

The kiss grew hungrier, his hands roaming up your back, fingers pressing into your skin, his lips moving to your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck. You felt his breath hot against your skin, a shiver racing down your spine as he pressed his forehead to yours, eyes heavy-lidded and dazed.

“I’ve waited for this,” he admitted softly, his voice thick with need and honesty.

You held him closer, your hand brushing the soft skin at the back of his neck, tangling in his hair as you pressed another kiss to his lips. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you even closer, your bodies so perfectly aligned it was dizzying.

Kageyama’s lips brushed your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine as he whispered, “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you.” He start to lay you down on the couch, getting on top as he start to rub your wet pussy

you moan loudly as he enters a finger, getting you ready for his cock, streatching and twisting your hole as he tells you how much he has dreamed of this moment and how he knows you have too

“You think I don’t see those looks you give me, do you?” He lines up his thick cock as he slowly inches it in “This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  His voice is deep, the shy facade gone. it’s like he’s punishing you with each slap of his thick cock in you.

Throughout his training today, his thoughts kept returning to you, a singular craving that he couldn’t shake. a hunger for absolute closeness, for a trust and surrender that went beyond anything else he knew. His focus narrowed, committing every inch of you to memory with an intensity that left you breathless.

“Wait… it’s too much,” you whisper into the couch, your body trembling under the weight of his strength. Each movement felt like it reached your core, sending shivers through you as his rhythm built, the sound of your connection filling the room and making your mind blur.

“your so beutiful" he murmurs, his tone deep yet filled with love. You can tell he loves when you push him, testing the limits, seeing just how far you’ll go together. It’s exactly what you both crave.

His hand slides down, pressing over the outline of himself against your stomach, his touch grounding you. “I want you to remember this, exactly how it feels,” he says, voice a low rumble. A smirk crosses his lips as he feels you respond to him, your body instinctively attuned to every move he makes.

You melt into his hold, pliant and responsive, perfectly in sync with him—a connection he cherishes more deeply than he ever lets on.

[strawberrydutchling]

Little Coffee Shop| Transformers AU

Contains- Incorrect grammar. English isn't my forte.

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

Location: Little Cafe, Cybertron University

November 5, 20xx

5:00 am

⠀

"Hello... are you guys open?"

A guy asked as he peek through the inside of the little cafe. Soft jazz is playing in the radio, and the air smell of coffee and vanilla, giving a sort of warm, cozy and welcoming feeling. But there wasn't anyone else expect a lone figure behind the counter.

“Actually, it's just me managing this place," The barista corrected, not in a way that seem sarcastic and instead gave him a welcoming smile.

" but yes, 'we're' open. What can I get for you?"

At this point, the customer completely entered the cafe and grab a seat by the bar as he look over the menu.

"Uh, can I get the latte?"

"Sure! Anything else?"

Before he could get the chance to open his mouth, a low growl took over... and it's coming from his stomach. There was a few seconds of silence between them, until the customer let out a cough.

"Um. . . got any breakfast option?"

The barista couldn't help but let out a small giggle, which only made the guy's face flushed even more in a blue hue. Still, they gladly showed him the available options. From sweet to savory, heavy and light.

"So, anything you'd like to try?"

The customer look through the menu again, looking a bit troubled at having to choose. "Mm... they all look pretty delicious. Any recommendation?"

"Well, if you want my option. I recommend the blueberry croissant. Not too light, not too heavy. It also goes well with latte. "

"Then, I'll have that!" He exclaimed rather enthusiastically. The barista couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

"I'll have your order ready in a jiffy. " The barista began making the coffee almost immediately. Since there isn't any other customer yet, they wasn't the need to be too hurry.

And almost like a blink of an eye, they were done. Just adding cocoa powder on the foam for the finishing touch. The croissant had already been made earlier and only needed to add the cream and blueberry.

"Here you go! One latte and a blueberry croissant. " The barista handed the plant in front of the customer, watching him pick up the latte first. He blew the steam and took a sip. The taste of sweet milk and bitter coffee hit his tongue, but both were perfectly balanced. It wasn't too hot either! His face churn to delight as he takes another sip.

"Waa~ that's some good coffee ...and this croissant is really delicious!"

"Aw, thank you. Glad you like 'em! " And they are! Call them cheesy, but it's always makes them happy whenever someone enjoys their drinks and food. Watching their worried and tired faces melt away in just a sip strikes a certified feeling in them.

But seeing this particular person... never once the smile left his face as he practically devours the pastry. It's definitely their favorite by far.

The customer suddenly reached an arm towards them with an open palm. "I'm Bumblebee, by the way!" He happily introduced.

'What a cute name. '

The barista gladly shook his hand back.

"Nice to meet you, Bumblebee. My name is [Name]. I take it you're a freshman?"

Bumblebee's eyes momentarily widened in surprise, but bobbed his head. " How'd you know?"

[Name] gave a small hum, subtly eyeing his figure, up and down.

"You just have this... energy."

"Energy?" Bumblebee tilted his hear, confused.

"Too fresh, too clean. Has yet to see the  "horrors" of stacking projects. Definitely a freshman. "

"Oh wow, that doesn't sound ominous at all!" He sarcastically said, and [Name] couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction.

"But you're right! I'm actually supposed to start my first day."

"Supposed...?" [Name] echoed the word. Bumblebee gave a weak embarrassed chuckle as he rub a finger on his cheek.

"Well, I live a few miles from here, about err... 10-15 minutes of traveling via bus. So I got up early... 'Cause I didn't want to be late on the first day, y'know?"

He caress a finger on the plate, wiping some remaining cream and licking it. Not exactly an appropriate behavior, but [Name] didn't say anything and remain silent.

"But then," He continued. "I found out I was ... too early. The auditorium was still close when I got there, and the opening ceremony starts at 7. Hehe... guess I got too excited."

By the time Bumblebee finished, he now realized [Name] hadn't say anything. He look up from his cup, only to find them just staring at him... listening intently.

He quickly look away and coughed. "He he, pretty embarrassing, huh? "

Instead of hearing laughter or 'yeah, it was' , [Name] merely gave him a smile and shook their head.

"Not at all. I mean, you are entering  a new chapter in your life.... Everyone does." [Name] shrugged. They slowly pick up the plate and cup, which by now were empty clean, and placed them on a black tray.

"I remember my first day. I was in my car, thinking about what could happen. 'What if there's already customers waiting there? ' 'What if I don't get any customers? ' or What if I forgot the recipe in the middle of an order'. And all that jazz. It was only when I heard my sister knocking on my window that I got my senses back. "

A warm smile made its way on their face, like a fond memory re emerging in their mind. Then that smile turn to humour.

"That's when I realized I haven't left the driveway at all! And you know what else?"

Bumblebee didn't say anything, but he was leaning his head closer. Like silently telling them 'what else?'

"...It happened at 3 in the morning. "

That got Bumblebee to break into a fit of laughter. It was... certainly contagious. [Name] couldn't but join in as well. Looking back, it was definitely a funny experience. 

"Hah...great way to start the day, right? But, point is, everyone reacts differently in their first days. Some might feel too nervous, some might feel excited. Nothing to be embarrass about."

The laughter died down soon after, but there was still a warm aftermath. [Name] took a moment to glace over at the clock hanging above the doorway.

6:00 A.M. It read.

"The auditorium should be open by now. Maybe you can explore the campus while you wait for the ceremony."

Bumblebee followed their gaze at the clock, then at his bag that's been lying on a stool next to him. [Name] watch his movement. There was... hesitation... to move from his spot.

The boy literally woke up early so he could  be the first student (at least first year) to enter the university. But now he was... unsure for some reason?

The air conditioner was just getting cozy, his favorite music is playing h̶e̶'̶s̶ n̶o̶t̶ e̶v̶e̶n̶ a̶ f̶a̶n̶ o̶f̶ j̶a̶z̶z̶,̶ his stomach need more time to digest the food. He could think of all kinds of e̶x̶c̶u̶s̶e̶s̶ reasons not to leave just yet!

Bumblebee glance over at [Name], who was just staring at him. But it didn't... felt like in a way they're telling him to leave already or to stay a bit longer.

There was...the look of patience in those eyes. They were waiting for what he'll do next. And whatever he chose, they won't hold it against him.

"...Actually. I'll stay for a few minutes. I-if it's alright with you, of course! "

"Of course. I don't mind. " was all they said, with a smile and nod of their head.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Time seem to pass by fast when you talk with someone. Well... Bumblebee did most of the talking. [Name] did their little task like wiping the cups, restocking the pastry bar... but all while listening intently to his every word. Even giving their own input one or two times. It was only when Bumblebee's friend, a fellow freshman name 'Bulkhead', texted him asking where he is, that their conversation had to end.

"I gotta go now, [Name]. The ceremony's bout to start in 20 minutes. Thanks for the coffee and croissant!" He exclaimed, quickly putting on his backpack and ready to reach for the door handle.

"Wait!" The barista suddenly called out, rushing from the counter and stepped in front of him... Now that he got a closer look, [Name]'s actually a few inches taller than him. 

Said barista handed him a brown paper bag. It felt warm in his hands, and-- is that the smell of--

"..!! [Name]?!"

"It's on the house. Think of it as your first-day- in- uni- snack. And, a thank you... for keeping me company. " They said, placing a hand over his shoulder. 

"Welcome to Cybertron Uni, Bumblebee. And good luck..."

You're going to make lots of memories here. 

The boy... was speechless. He was practically frozen in the spot, doing nothing but stare at the package in his hands.

For only about a solid minute, as his face soon beamed in joy again, and it was brighter than ever. 

"Thank you so much, [Name]! I'll definitely stop by again!"

They couldn't help but laugh again. It was probably their third laugh today. They couldn't help it. Maybe it was because his demeanor, or how he's smaller than them, but Bumblebee was just too c̶u̶t̶e̶.̶ 

"You're welcome. Oh, and there's plenty in there, so make sure to share with your friends!"

Did they discreetly use him to promote their food? Maybe.

After all, why waste an opportunity? 

Fortunately, Bumblebee didn't seem to see through their little slip of "trickery", as he was already breaking into a run. Occasionally looking back and giving them a wave of goodbye... which got them to almost trip a few times. 

Even as his figures grew smaller, the smile never left their face. 

A new semester has begun. Which means a new chapter in this ... crazy... university. 

'Now to officially start the day. '

-----

Transformers Cafe/ University Au!

I want to say, there's no actual concrete plot (for now), it's mostly focus on coffee talks, hijinks and *gaspo* maybe... romance???. So suggestions are ALLOWED!

Good bye ☕! 

[howi99]

Simpler time

Young man with Orange hair: *pant* You think *pant* You *pant* Bloody hell! *Take a few breaths, taking back control over it* You think we lost professor Port?

Young man with Green hair: *Cleaning his glasses* Well i sure hope so. I wasn't expecting him to be this quick! *Drink from his flask of energy drink* We can't be found out or we are going to get yelled at by professor Ozpin!

Young woman with Blond hair: *Laughing* Ah! He's not even able to get his lessons ready in time! He won't even notice we stole one of his exams. Heck, most of the time he asks me to make photocopies.

Young man with Blond hair: *rolling his eyes* Yeah yeah, we all know you're the teacher's pet Glynda.

Glynda: *frowning* I am no teacher's pet! *Crossing her arms* And i prefer being in good terms with them, since my idiot of a brother decided he would prefer knocking up our childhood friend instead of studying! For heaven's sake Niko!

Nicholas: Juniper said she had protection! I didn't think she meant her god damn shield! *Sigh of exasperation* Mother is so going to kill me-

Young man with Orange hair: *shushing them, then whispering* Silence you two, i think i can see the two edgelords approaching.

Glynda: *whispering* Qrow and the bitch?

Young man with Orange hair: *nod* Yeah, let's hide behind the containers. I don't want them to snitch on us.

Young man with Green hair: *whispering* Roman, they are probably the least likely to snitch on us.

Roman: *sigh* Oobleck, they aren't the ones I'M afraid of. It's little miss Rose and her big mouth! Now everyone behind the containers!

Nicholas: Do we really have to? They rank.

Roman: *poking Nicholas's chest with his finger* If you didn't literally fuck around instead of studying, we wouldn't need to be here in the first place!

[hopelessdelusional]

matt sturniolo x influencer! reader

reader is grunge! a singer! and on social media (this is very niche i apologize) i will be building this AU more so stay tuned!

｡･:*˚:✧

hey so i’ve hyper fixated onto an CIS. STRAIGHT. WHITE. BOY. someone put me down i cannot do this anymore please this is a cry for help needs to euthanize me-

｡･:*˚:✧

enjoy ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ᗜ^)

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ homebase

to start, you have been close friends with jake for a long time, and thru him you met tara and johnny before meeting the triplets

jake pretty much always has you in his videos, so much so whenever you aren't in a video the fans have started to request for your presence on videos that don't have you in them

you're not all that active on social media, only posting random covers of your favorite songs on your youtube channel and random tiktoks

in jake's videos you are always making him laugh, and out of the two you're more calm with a dry sense of humor

'...do you like it?"

"yeah because me immediately spitting it out and chugging my drink after eating it obviously shows how much i love this fucking candy"

OR

"hey jake did you want to get dinner tonight-"

"..."

"why the fuck is johnny in a baby costume."

in tara's videos you and her literally talk for HOURS and the way tara could make four separate videos from one recorded hang out is ridiculous

with Carrington the two of you easily match each other's energy, always giggling in the back of videos

you've also done singing collabs with jake and johnny! there are a couple of songs that just have your background vocals and then others with actual verses

you haven't released any songs though due to stress and anxiety, feeling too pressured to write the

"perfect" song so you settle with being a feature

besides that you really just mind your business with college, your job, and hanging out with friends

tara was actually the one who introduced you to nick

and through nick….you met matt

.・。.・✭・.・✫・゜・。.

matt who was excited to meet nick’s new friend who he was talking abt nonstop

“hey guys! yn is here!”

nick swings the door wide open, smiling widely as he stomps in the house. you follow in quickly, nervous to meet nick’s brothers. your friendship with nick came naturally, having many things to connect with. that being said, you weren’t sure if you could create a relationship with his brothers as easily as you did with him.

fiddling with your clothes you wave politely at the boys, surprised to see both of them walk up to you and hug you. granted it was swift hugs, but it immediately created a softer environment, causing you to relax immensely.

matt who immediately noticed how you looked uncomfortable and took the first step to hug you

“i like your outfit,” matt said after chris broke away from you. he gave you a small smile, making you smile in return. before you could respond however, chris started talking to the group.

nick had already decided on having dinner at home, so you settled in leaning on the kitchen island watching nick and chris argue over what to make for dinner. matt walks over to you, putting his hands in his pockets.

“don’t worry i could never replace you guys,” you tease, when you see him across from you. he giggles in reaponse, his eyes never leaving your face.

“cool tattoos,” he points out which surprised you. looking down at your arm, you smiled admiring the work you’ve gotten done over the years.

“thank you! you also have some gnarly tats.”

matt smiled at you, flexing his arm a little bit to show off his whole sleeve.

“is that the only place you have tattoos?” you question, suddenly curious about his body art. matt nodded, then looked at you with a small smile.

“does that mean you have more?” the question made you laugh because he seemed almost shy asking you, so when you nodded enthusiastically and started to give him a quick tour all over your body. lifting your shirt up was funny for you, because you could tell matt wanted to be thoughtful and not look but when you reassured him he hesitated at first but eventually awed at them. his reactions were so lively, making you appreciate how focused and compassionate. he praised you for your own ideas and for the tattoos that meant something, and still thought your random and silly tattoos were interesting.

after you finished showing him you were practically gleaming, it had been a while since you had been able to speak so much of the tattoos that littered your body. every single one of them had meant so much to you and being able to share that with someone; especially someone as excited and appreciative as you are.

“you’re really cool, i can see why nick enjoys hanging out with you so much.”

you and matt were sitting down in the living room now, leaving chris and nick to prepare dinner for the evening. talking came easily after the tour of your tattoos, matt showing you his and the conversation flowed better than you dreamed it to be.

you chuckled at matt’s comment, finding his eye contact was making you squirmish in your seat.

“nick is so much cooler than me, but i don’t mind i really enjoy being friends with him. plus now i have two new friends so that’s a bonus.”

matt laughed at your response, running a hand through his hair now avoiding eye contact with you.

“yeah, i’m grateful nick brought you around.”

matt who couldn’t take his eyes off of you for the rest of the evening, which did not go unnoticed by his brothers

“don’t steal my new best friend from me matt!” nick yelled out dramatically after yn left, making matt shake his head.

“you should let matt have their number,” chris mumbled, still focused on the game he was playing. nick gasped dramatically before agreeing, making the boys laugh with how quickly he switched up his emotions.

“just don’t steal them!” nick threatened, but matt was already too excited to text you to listen.

matt who got your number and could not stop texting you, and he especially couldn’t stop smiling every time you texted him back

“matt i need backup,” chris said frantically, his eyes glued to the computer and fingers moving at the speed of light on the controllers. when matt doesn’t respond, chris huffs and repeats himself.

“matt seriously dude where the fuck are you?!”

matt finishes up typing and looks up, oblivious to the game that they were losing.

“oh shit,” he mumbled, putting his phone down and picking his controller back up.

“you weren’t even playing?” chris yelled out, frustrated with their status. nick pipes up from the bed, suddenly curious. he peaks his head over and sees matt’s phone light up, watching matt immediately lose his focus to look at his phone. matt straightens up, wanting to reach for his phone before chris cursed loudly, drawing his attention away from the text. nick squints, thankful that he was wearing his glasses and sees the name on his phone to his disbelief. yn sent a text, then another one, and then another one. his jaw dropped, and his gasp was so loud it startled his brothers.

“nick! oh my god,” chris started to laugh when his fear settled down. nick still had his mouth wide open, only causing chris to laugh harder.

“you’re gonna catch flies kid,” matt snickered. nick slowly turned his head to matt, mouth still open, in a very dramatic motion.

“yn? you stole my best friend?”

matt froze, a slow blush creeping up from his neck to his cheeks. chris eyed his brothers from his peripheral vision, jaw also dropping.

“that’s why you’ve been so preoccupied? damn my boy has a crush,” chris started to chuckle, causing nick to scream and matt to drop his controller covering his face in embarrassment.

matt who gets jealous whenever you and nick go out like he wants to hang out with u too :(

matt who finally gets the nerve to ask you to hang out with him, after nick decides he’s had enough of matt complaining about how “you never invite me-or chris!” (he has to add the chris part to not sound too obvious)

matt stood nervously at the door, fiddling with his keys in his hands. he finally knocked, immediately hearing rummaging around behind the door. matt couldn’t help but smile, wondering what you were doing right now. were you just as nervous to hang out with him one on one?

suddenly, the door swings wide open, and you’re in the doorway smilingly widely.

“hey! come in!”

matt who had so much fun hanging out with you.

the two of you went to antiques and thrift stores, grabbed some dinner and went back to your place to spend the rest of the evening together. the two of you got along so well he ended up staying until 12AM because you wanted to finish watching the show you started, not that matt was complaining. he was tempted to ask to stay over (and you were tempted to ask him to stay over) but he didn’t want things to be awkward. so he left late into the night, after you gave him a tackling hug, asking to hang out again soon

matt who started to call you every night, and although you two texted all day you never ran out of things to talk about.

matt who is really starting to fall for you

.・。.・✭・.・✫・゜・。.

k bye ily🩶

[gravity-falls-fanatic89]

November's Naughty and Nice Stories

Day 11: Mr. Mystery/Part 1 of 2

Mullet Stan Pines x Reader

Part 1-Fluff with mild language

Part 2 will be spicy:18+/MINORS DNI!

"Did you hear that guy in the woods finally came out to talk to people last week? He's been renovating the place since he opened it awhile ago." Susan said, already jittery from the 5 cups of coffee she downed before noon.

You and Susan were working Saturday morning at Greasy's Diner, and you were half listening to the gossip, pretending like you didn't care, but she was piquing your curiosity with the guy that finally made a public debut in a more vocal manner. He was a recluse for a couple years, and was now coming out and about, advertising his newly rebranded Mystery Shack, previously The Murder Hut that he was renovating.

"I don't pay no mind to the guy, Sue. You know that. He seems cocky, and a chatterbox," you said. But that wasn't true. You were always checking him out, and knew his stories were hogwash, but he was pretty cute for a bullshitter.

You two gossiped back and forth before the dinner rush rolled in, and you tried avoiding talking about Stan "Mr. Mystery" Pines.

"Hey, it's him!" Susan elbowed you, almost knocking you over.

He walked in, his chest puffed out a bit, with a white shirt covered in sweat on, and black slacks. His hair was a mess, but he looked like he was whooped for the day. Susan handed you a menu, and nudged you on.

"I can't go talk to him right now.... I'm 'busy.'"

You rolled your eyes, and took the menu. "Yeah, sure you are."

And Stan sat down, and you followed behind, placing a menu at the booth for him. "Well, hey good looking, ya decide to take care of me today?"

You could feel your cheeks get slightly red with the smooth talk, and try to dismiss it. "Can I start you with a drink, Stan?"

He smirked. "I'll take a coffee if it's fresh. I appreciate it."

You grabbed the coffee, and handed it to him, and let him know the specials. Turkey dinner with all the trimmings was what he landed on, and you brought it out, and proceeded to walk away, standing by Susan.

"He's actually being pretty mild for him today," you said to her. "I'm actually a little shocked."

"I think he's a little wore out. He's been cleaning up his place for business, and seems to be alone....Even for Thanksgiving," and she gave me the side eye.

"Yeah, yeah," and you swatted her off. You wrote up his check, and prepared to cash him out, walking up to him.

"Any pumpkin pie at all to finish up?"

"Nah, I wanna make sure I leave ya a tip. I appreciate ya dealin' with me after I've been stinkin' to high heaven from workin' all day. Probably don't need it anyways."

And you actually felt a little bad, and went to the counter, grabbed a slice of pie, and handed it to him in a to go box with the check. He was pompous at times, but even he seemed alright tonight. He looked at you, a little surprised.

"You need your energy to get that place up and running. Good luck, and just think of this as an early Thanksgiving Day snack to keep you going."

He looked at the check, and looked at you. "I appreciate that. I'm sure this pie is gonna be sweet, but nothing compared to you. Keep the change."

And he walked up and left, his check folded with the money inside. There was enough for the bill, and $50, along with his number.

You ever want to stop by, give me a call so you can check out the Shack.

-Stan

And his number was below it, and you felt your stomach do a somersault. Maybe you might pay a visit to Mr. Mystery after all.....As soon as you could get Susan to calm the hell down after she saw you two.

[flowerchild28]

Taking care of you

Louis Tomlinson imagine

Warnings: fluff, making -out

1.3k

It started with a slight scratchiness in Y/N’s throat, something she brushed off as seasonal allergies or maybe a reaction to the brisk autumn air. She’d been bustling around all morning, cleaning, organizing, and keeping busy as she usually did. But by the afternoon, a small headache began to press against her temples, and her throat had worsened to the point where even swallowing her tea felt like sandpaper. Still, she tried to ignore it, hoping a good night’s sleep would chase it away.

Louis, however, was quicker to pick up on her fading energy.

“You alright, love?” he asked, watching her from the couch, his gaze narrowing as she stifled yet another sneeze.

“Yeah, totally fine,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively as she sniffled. “It’s just a bit chilly, that’s all.”

But Louis wasn’t convinced. The way her eyes were drooping, and her normally lively voice sounded raspy and thick, didn’t escape him. He got up, making his way to her, and placed the back of his hand on her forehead. She attempted to pull away, but he held firm.

“Y/N, you’re burning up!” he said, concern lacing his tone. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” she replied, her voice weakening as she said it. “Probably just a little cold. It’ll pass.”

“Just a little cold?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve seen this before. You always say you’re fine until you’re practically bedridden. Not happening this time.”

She gave him a weak smile but couldn’t fight him as he steered her gently toward the bedroom. “In bed, now. No arguments,” he said firmly, guiding her with gentle hands.

“Alright, alright,” she murmured, barely resisting as she climbed under the covers, pulling the duvet up to her chin. She was too tired to argue, really.

Louis disappeared into the bathroom, coming back with a glass of water, a fresh box of tissues, and a soft, cool cloth. He pressed the cloth against her forehead, his thumb brushing her cheek as he gently swept away a strand of hair.

“Here’s what we’re doing,” he said as he sat beside her, his tone gentle but commanding. “You’re going to drink this water. I’ll make you some tea with honey for that sore throat, and then we’ll see how you’re feeling.”

“Lou…” she started, but a coughing fit interrupted her, making her whole body shake.

He gave her a sympathetic look, squeezing her hand. “That’s what I thought. You don’t have to be tough with me. Just rest. I’ll take care of everything.”

She managed a soft nod, and he left to make her tea, returning minutes later with a steaming mug and a worried look in his eyes. She sipped the tea slowly, feeling the honey coat her sore throat. Louis never once left her side, making sure she drank all the tea and had enough pillows to keep her propped up.

“You need to rest, darling,” he murmured, brushing a soft kiss to her temple. “Close your eyes.”

She drifted off, and Louis watched over her until she was sleeping deeply. The next morning, though, she was even worse. Her fever had climbed, her cough was harsher, and she could barely lift her head from the pillow.

Louis gently placed a hand on her forehead, his worry deepening. “Alright, love, I’m taking you to the doctor. No arguments.”

Though she protested weakly, she didn’t have the energy to truly fight him, and he bundled her up in her thickest sweater, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and helped her to his car. Louis drove carefully, glancing over every few minutes to make sure she was comfortable. She dozed in and out of sleep, her head lolling gently against the seat as he reached over to tuck the scarf more snugly around her.

At the doctor’s office, he stayed with her every step of the way, holding her hand as they waited, his thumb rubbing comforting circles on her skin. The doctor confirmed that it was a bad cold, maybe bordering on the flu, and gave her a list of medications to help ease the symptoms.

Once they were back home, Louis didn’t let her lift a finger. He practically carried her to bed, tucking her in and propping her up with all the pillows he could find.

“Alright.” he said, grinning as he stood at the foot of the bed, “today, we’re having the ultimate movie marathon. You can pick whatever you want—rom-coms, action, musicals, you name it. You’re not lifting a finger.”

“Lou,” she rasped, giving him a small smile. “You really don’t have to… I’ll be fine…”

“Shh,” he interrupted, placing a finger over her lips. “You know you love this. I’m not going anywhere. Plus,” he said, flashing her a playful grin, “I’m kind of amazing at picking movies. You can’t resist.”

She rolled her eyes, but he saw the gratitude in her expression as she settled back into the pillows, her hand reaching for his.

They started with one of her favorite series criminal minds, and as the opening credits rolled, Louis climbed into bed beside her, keeping a safe distance but staying close enough that she could lean against his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her, letting her rest her head on his chest as the episodes played. Every so often, he’d pass her tissues, rub her shoulder when she coughed, or help her sip some tea.

The hours slipped by as they moved from one episode to the next, occasionally pausing to let her nap or take her medication. Louis stayed beside her through it all, making sure she was comfortable, rubbing her back when she felt achy, and keeping her laughing at his dramatic commentary. When she started feeling chilly, he brought out an extra blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders and tucking it in securely.

As the sixth episode of the day came to a close, Y/N’s eyes began to droop again. She tried to fight it, wanting to stay up with him, but the exhaustion was overwhelming. Louis noticed, gently brushing her hair back from her face.

“Sleep, love,” he whispered softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll be right here.”

She gave him a sleepy smile, murmuring a quiet “thank you” as she drifted off.

By the next day, her fever had gone down a bit, though she was still weak and hoarse. Louis was already up before her, moving around the kitchen with a quiet efficiency as he prepared her breakfast. He brought it to her on a tray, complete with toast, soup, and fresh orange juice.

“Look at you, getting the royal treatment,” he teased as he set the tray in front of her. “Feeling any better?”

She nodded, taking a careful sip of the soup. “A little. Thanks to you, honestly.”

He gave her a proud smile. “Well, you’ve taken care of me enough times. It’s my turn.”

They continued the criminal minds marathon that day, both of them cuddled under the covers. Louis didn’t seem to mind being cooped up indoors, laughing along with her at every joke.

That night, as they wrapped up the season and the house fell quiet, Y/N turned to him, her eyes soft and grateful.

“Lou, really… thank you,” she said quietly, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you these past few days.”

He smiled, leaning in to brush a tender kiss on her forehead. “You’d have been just fine. But I’m glad I could be here.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other’s warmth and the gentle quiet of the room. Though she was still weak and tired, Y/N felt an overwhelming sense of comfort and love in his presence.

“Next time, though,” she whispered, a small smile on her lips, “you’re not getting off so easy when you’re the one sick.”

He chuckled, his arms wrapping around her protectively. “I’d expect nothing less.”

[persefida]

I genuinely don't know where all my life energy comes from. People don't live like that I'm pretty sure.

I make things every minute, every second of my life. I work hard, and when I'm tired I'm doing some other interesting things and relax hard. My job, my many hobbies, my every day walkings and my chores. I can't just sit and watch some tv series, I need to do something at the same time. Haha that's why I looove Hamilton musical, I find it relatable. No time to waste, spend your life as good, productive and sorrow-less as possible. I'm living like if I was hit by a car tomorrow, I wouldn't regret any of my decisions, because I tried to find a balance between my aspirations and reality.

I have a burning energy that makes me do things on weekends. Learning new skills after working days. There's no time to try these new games or watching youtube. Going for a walk? Then listen a podcast about science. Experience new things? Remember them for future inspiration and understand the world more and better.

I was asked to do some additional job tasks on free time (being paid of course). And even after doing them I still have a willing to do things. My last vacation was 7 months ago btw.

And I want to quit my job. My perfect 9-5 job, being an artist with a good salary and being able to work from home. Yes, I want to quit it and continue my own art business that I started before it. Because I want to have more time to learn more and do many other things. I have energy to work hard so this business would succeed. And when I'll get bored of that I will think about other things and proceed to succeed them too.

My mind goes really fast and I need to drink coffee so my body would keep up. Don't wish me to rest well, I take care of my mind and body because it's in my best interest for a long-run.

I don't know.

I think I'm burning bright and one day this unknown power source will end. I genuinely don't know how on earth I'm not combusted right at this place.

Here's the part of a Hamilton musical song that always gives me determination.

(The sketch about times when I was learning and practicing to do a hand stand. Just for fun.)

[loveanddeepspice]

𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis:  you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating:  18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw:  religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), mentions of other drug use, drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter:  6 / ?

✞ co-authors:  redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link:  here

✞ chapter synopsis: "the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it." - oscar wilde

✞ index: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5| chapter 6

Please comment on this post if you want to be added to the tag list for updates!

Despite what happened, you would have done anything to face Father Sylus again. 

He was the type of person who radiated energy from within, dedication unlike anyone you had ever met - which could be a good or a bad thing. The thoughts became an obsession, all that seemed to fill your brain. The recollection of his touch made you sweat. It was the last thing you thought about before drifting off to sleep, the first thing you thought about when you woke, and the next few days stretched.  One thing was sure: you longed to see him again, if only for the courage to apologize.  But did you even have to apologize? He was the one who had kissed you first, right?  It was so unbelievably confusing. You’d talk yourself through circles; for once, no amount of sleeping seemed to help.  You weren’t even given the option to sleep it all off anyway or mellow properly in your self-pity. Upon learning of your ‘arrest’ from Talia, your father forced you out of the house that Sunday to go to church with him.  “What’s going on with you, Y/N?” Dad raised his eyebrows and frowned as he gripped the steering wheel, and you could tell he was trying hard not to get angry or frustrated. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, hon. You came back, and you’re acting weird.  Can you just tell me what’s wrong?”  Shaking your head, you shrugged, trying your hardest to maintain eye contact on the door handle, ignoring your dad’s question and wishing he’d just leave you alone.  “You went from being happy to totally distraught since you moved out. What am I supposed to think here, huh?”  ‘Maybe everything went to total fucking shit,’ was what you wanted to say, and tried not to roll your eyes. Dad tried so hard to not act like the authoritarian or pushy father, especially after your mother had died. He was never like that. And it was because of that you figured it was time to be at least a little truthful.  “I quit my job. I don’t know what I’m going to do from here, but -” you said, “I just…needed some time to think things through.”  Your dad parked the car and turned to offer you a subtle smile. You were convincing enough, obviously. “Okay, fine. Work in the store until you figure it out. It’ll be like old times.” One hand gripped the steering wheel as he looked at you, almost seeming to peer into your brain as his eyes flicked ever so slightly. “So, uh, is this about your mom? I didn’t know you were still upset about that. I should’ve tried to talk to you more.”  You bit down your reply, feeling a bitter taste in the back of your throat, and willing it away.  “No, it isn’t. Just forget about it.”  A long sigh filled the small space as your father pressed his lips together. “Christ, I can’t be mad at you right now. I’ve always let you do what you want.”  This was strange, a particular ache settling inside and spreading to your limbs like an infection. Maybe it wouldn’t stop now that it had started. And the first instinct was to get away and run. Run and run and just get away.  “Hon, Y/N,” Your Dad’s voice was pleading, and you nearly missed it. “We can go talk to -”  “No!” You blurted, immediately regretting it, mortified at just the thought. How did you speak so fast? “No, it’s fine. Let’s just go inside. We’re gonna be late.”

You didn’t feel any better inside the church, but you weren’t expecting much to begin with. All you could do was suck it up and seat yourself beside your dad. It wasn’t crowded, but there were a few unfamiliar faces, so maybe not everyone would notice your fucked up mood. 

Everything felt surreal. You were sitting there in church with the sun streaming through the stained glass windows, and your gaze landed on the one depicting the Virgin Mary.

The word ethereal came to mind. 

Everything seemed like it would evaporate into thin air. Like if you moved too quickly, you’d wake up from one of those dreams that just turned out to be inside of another dream. 

And when a hush fell over the congregation, you had no choice but to look forward. No matter how your brain fizzes or your fingers tingle. You were forced to look at that handsome face in front of the church and feel the emotion well inside you. Something that felt different than embarrassment or frustration. 

Even from this distance, Father Sylus exudes that particular aura, daring to fill the whole church with its strength. You are once again reminded of how inescapable his presence is—not through belief or goodness, but something, someone who felt unearthly, even celestial, as absurd as it felt. 

Ethereal. Once again, with that pretty word. How could you even begin to explain it? It was so easy to feel some sort of bitterness, perhaps even selfishness. Who could blame you? Everything always seemed too simple when you looked at it from a distance. 

“Good morning,” He began, his voice taking on that strangely powerful, lilting cadence. He paused, hands clasping, and his posture was different. Shoulders broad, spine straight, chin lifted slightly. “I want to take a moment before we begin to discuss why we’re here.” 

You were drawn to his words, which had formed an invisible link to you. Maybe if you closed your eyes like you did at night, you could picture that night in the car. It felt foolish because you were certain your own thoughts were desperate. How stupid did it make you seem, trying to replay the sensation? A stupid crush. That is all you wanted it to amount to, even if looking into his fiery gaze had made you feel like you were melting.

“We’re here, in the house of the Lord. Why is this?” 

If a month’s insistence on chasing after a flame could be compared to anything -

 “Free will.” His tone picked up. “Through our actions, we make conscious decisions. As far as humankind is concerned, free will also makes us human.” 

Your breathing stilled. Something terrible seized your gut, a cramping feeling causing you to grit your teeth. 

“This is a sanctified place,” he continued, voice rich and filled with energy. “Within these walls, you should experience peace. Not conflict or anger. All are free here because it is with our actions that we build ourselves.”

How the hell did he manage this? The words continued spilling from his mouth, something pulling you further. And after a pause, his gaze filtered over the room again - and landed on you. 

Time was beginning to stand still, and you swore your face began to heat up. But, thankfully, the look didn’t linger on you, moving on as he cleared his throat. 

Well, fuck. 

There was only a tiny shift in expression, and perhaps you were the only one to notice how his pause seemed more lengthy than those before it. 

"We - uh.” Father Sylus made a show of glancing down at the notes before him and shuffling a few pages. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat again, a little louder this time. “What I mean to say is, with free will, we struggle against our urges and temptations. Sin beckons - uh,” another loud cough. He looked nervous. Vulnerable. In more ways than one. 

Father Sylus hastily pushed aside the pages, shoulders lifting in a deep breath before looking again at the people gathered. He straightened a little, and his powerful tone returned as he folded his hands neatly. “So, how do we resist? It can be hard to…admit one’s faults.” He let out a little huff of air, glancing down again. Then, he stepped away from the podium, stepping along the carpeted dais, hands clasped behind his back and thumbs tapping against each other. 

The congregation started shifting. A glance here and there, unable to guess what he would say next. Probably wondering why their priest was acting so…off. If you weren’t glued to your seat in, well, any number of the emotions you were feeling now - you would have high-tailed it out of there already. But instead, you were frozen in place, feeling like an outsider, feeling the shift in the air more than the others around you. 

“Take those feelings and multiply them by ten.” He stated, looking towards the back of the church at nothing in particular. It was as if he was somewhere only his mind knew. 

“Opportunity is often just an invitation to sin, yes. Free will is a man’s greatest power but also his biggest weakness. With that power comes responsibility. Satan doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns in the middle of the night.” 

Oh God.

 There was a tense pause and stillness, and you wonder how you managed to sit here and listen. Those crimson eyes trailed around the room, but for another second, a brief and terrifying second, they burned into you.

“Satan comes as everything you’ve ever wished for.” He laughed, bitter and slightly hoarse. Then his eyes snapped forward again, unabashed. 

He coughed, cleared his throat again, and gestured with a finger above his head. “We all - well, we all think we can overcome any challenge. Big or small. Big and small.” Father Sylus let out a shaky exhale. “Um, the point is...The point is that the devil is ready to collect when you can’t. So, the point is that - uh,” His tone shifted to something smaller that made your insides tremble agonizingly. A breathless, tight sort of anxiousness that stole through your lungs and caused your heart rate to increase. It was impossible to deny that despite the words coming out of his mouth, you actually wanted to hear him continue. “Um, sometimes I think the hardest thing is that we are human, and we are weak.” 

Before he could even continue, his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed, grimacing, an anguish that you recognized. “Excuse me.” He looked like he might break, the wavering tension almost stifling the room, his expression almost tormented. 

“I’m sorry. Excuse me.” And with that, he disappeared into the back, leaving everyone shocked. 

Everyone except for you. 

“And that’s why I’m never going to church again.” You rolled your eyes as you leaned against one of the shelves in your dad’s store, looking over at Rafayel, who was leaning against the counter, making it his personal mission to get every last drop out of an iced coffee. “You should have seen the look on his face. What a fuck up.” 

Rafayel wrinkled his nose, looked around the otherwise empty store, and then glanced at his phone. “Yikes. Poor guy.” He sighed and tapped his foot on the floor. “Talia came home and said he had a migraine - but it’s even more hilarious that a near-public breakdown was because of you.” 

“My God, you are awful.” You frowned and stepped forward to lightly punch his arm, reaching out and catching his elbow with a grimace as he pretended to almost fall over. “That’s a horrible thing to say! You were the one who was practically encouraging me!” 

“I would never,” Rafayel huffed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Anyway, it’s been almost a week now. You’re gonna have to suck it up and face him sooner or later.” With a firm nod, he shook off your hold and dusted his hand on the faded denim of his jeans, turning his attention back to his phone and shaking the ice in the cup he held. 

“How would I do that?” You asked. 

As if oblivious, Rafayel arched a brow and smiled tightly, peering at you over the edge of his phone. His tone was less-than-reassuring, sounding almost pitying. “No fucking idea.” 

You opened your mouth to argue but thought better of it as the shop door opened, just in time for the chilly afternoon to bring in your dad and Xavier. You took a deep breath at the sound of the bell and forced yourself to calm down.

As if on cue, Rafayel pushed himself away from the counter and looked in your direction. “Well, Y/N.” He said, tossing a wink in your direction that made you want to reach out and knock the silly grin off his face. “Good luck.” With that, he turned and walked out of the store with a shake of his head. 

Your dad mumbled something under his breath before tossing a wave a little too late and heading into the back of the small building. 

Unease had settled in your stomach at your friend's departure. You felt as if you had more to say, ask, or get a general idea of as you stared at the shop's door. You ran a hand over your tired face and sighed. 

“Hi,” Xavier gave you a careful, controlled smile as you turned toward his voice. “Need help with anything?” 

You tried your best not to fidget or bite your lip. “No, but it’s nice of you to offer.” You shrugged and glanced away briefly. “Why? Got nothing else to do?” 

“Uh, I work here?” He blinked as he stepped forward. You could take in his softening facial features now that he was closer. His smile didn’t quite fade as he looked around the quiet shop. “Anyway - I um. I tried to call you last night? About dinner?” 

Tilting your head in confusion, you froze. Then, you processed the sentence. 

Dinner. Shit. 

“Oh! My phone went missing. I’m sure it’ll turn up soon or something. Wasn’t the nicest phone anyways,” you brushed some hair behind your ear. “I still can’t figure out how it disappeared!” You forced a laugh at your lie and shifted uncomfortably.

You’d completely forgotten about agreeing to go out with him. How fucking stupid were you? So caught up in the idea of -

“Well, uh, I didn’t plan much. So it’s okay, we can just do something another night. Right?” Xavier suggested, and you couldn’t tell if he had let it go so quickly or was suspicious about your behavior. 

Either way, you smiled, rationalizing with yourself for what felt like the millionth time that spending time with him would be a good thing. Any way to keep your mind distracted. Clearly, he still wanted to go out with you, and you certainly wouldn’t say no. After all, who could blame you for latching on anyone who showed the slightest interest? 

This would be a step in the right direction, right? Things would get better. They had to. No matter how weird it felt for you to think so. 

“That’s fine. Sorry, my head’s all over the place.” 

The worst part of it all was the sudden weight in your stomach, the ache in your chest that was becoming all too tiring. Something pushed you in the complete opposite direction of the young man in front of you, towards what you really wanted, and had no explanation for why you did. 

“Y/N?” Xavier spoke again and stepped closer, watching your expression with careful scrutiny, his hand reaching out to touch yours, giving you a new feeling of unease. “Hey, um, - you alright?” 

Your heart wrenched a little at the worry, and you wondered exactly how pathetic you appeared. “I think so. Can you take over? I gotta step out for a while.”

It grew colder as you walked along the sidewalk, sticking your hands inside your jacket pockets. Clouds gathered in the distance, inching their way towards the suburb. The air smelled fresher, as if it might snow lightly sometime at night. A breeze swept over the street, stirring pieces of your hair from its confines, and you briefly thought you should have remembered your scarf. 

Then, you came to a stop in front of the church. 

You looked down at your outfit, the jeans and the oversized blue sweater you had found in your mom's closet, when you couldn’t be bothered to do your own laundry. Perhaps she would give you strength, or at least enough willpower from wherever she was to give you the courage to turn right the fuck around and go back home.  She was always straightforward in that way, even without the drinking. If only you had taken after her in that aspect. 

For a moment, you almost turned to leave, giving yourself the opportunity to simply walk away and go home. However, after a few seconds of mental debate, you stepped along the worn walkway and up the steps, slipping your hand out of your pocket to place it on the worn wooden door. 

Somewhere in your mind was a glimmer of hope, the possibility of resolve.

Now that you had gathered whatever courage you had left, you took one last, bracing breath before pushing the door open. A jolt of energy speared up your arms, a buzzing sensation against your fingertips. Once you were inside, everything felt eerily silent. Almost too silent. But as the familiar warmth enveloped you, your body relaxed slightly as you shrugged off your jacket. 

The last light from the day was casting through the windows, and the interior was a muted, golden glow and soft orange. It felt warm in more ways than one. Despite the hushed nature of the building, energy thrummed within you. The atmosphere was inviting, but for some reason, you couldn’t quite muster the ability to step forward any further, feet stuck to the floor beneath you. It was ironic, yet in a way, expected; you felt like crying or throwing something, but maybe punching Father Sylus would give you the most satisfaction. 

The chapel seemed alien to you as you made your way further inside. 

Loneliness was all-consuming, a fear ever present and threatening in the back of your mind. You wondered why it hurt so much. And, you considered whether you have ever experienced a real connection in your life. You zeroed in on the cross beyond the rows of pews as if you could use it for answers. It glinted a little in the evening light that filtered through the stained glass. Your eyes felt dry as they fixed upon the illuminated wood, searching, listening, walking towards the front of the church like a mouse. 

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” You asked your question out loud. The silence of the building taunted you in return, and something constricted within your chest. The rush of it all was consuming, filling your every thought with hope and expectation. A breath sucked in, and you shook your head, blinking. Everything felt off, and you had no idea what your body was supposed to do with itself. “This is so fucked. You know, this is all…just so messed up,” you choked out the whisper and, with a small gasp, swallowed. The emotions swelled. Heavy and pounding and suddenly overwhelming. 

Who gave a shit? Nothing would change. 

But, maybe - 

Would God be willing? Could He lift the spell put on you that would continue to grow? 

“Mom is dead, and she’s not coming back.” The words spilled and dropped like shattered glass. “And, uh, it’s just like, that’s fucked up. Isn’t it? Please, it’s - well, I wish I knew, God damn it. Motherfucker!” You swore louder than you should have, not recognizing your own voice. A feeling that had no name gripped your heart. This was it. You were giving up. “Totally fucked up. And you go and make me do stupid shit? What kind of test is that?” 

Only silence answered. You wondered how you should feel. As angry as you were, it felt strange to voice it. Finally, saying the words brought unusual comfort, and it was too easy to admit everything now. “Yeah, yeah. You should really apologize, God. Lord. Jesus. Whatever.” 

“I’m sorry.” The voice that spoke back did not belong to you. Echoing off the walls and the stained glass, it sent a jolt up your spine, causing you to spin in its direction. Leaning against a doorframe was Father Sylus, looking down at the floor, that shameful expression resurfacing on his face. You witnessed the repentant facade as he lifted his head and looked at you. 

It felt like a flood rushed through you, coursing, washing away the anger, seeping into every cell, and filling you with something new. Warm and soft, somehow breaking you apart as it passed. Something indecipherable but true. 

Something almost wonderful and exhilarating. 

He looked like something you could draw. That raw, exposed sort of aura. 

That same warmth enveloped your heart, the comfort expanding across your chest. There was something profound and affectionate within his gaze and the sense that you had underestimated what was truly meant by the phrase ‘care and concern.’

It could have been a few seconds. Or minutes passed as you stood rooted to the spot. The beating of your heart seemed to echo in your ears. Blood pulsed through your veins, the silence around you growing louder. 

“For what?” You were almost afraid to speak up. 

“For whatever you’re feeling,” Father Sylus stated plainly. Then he straightened, and his look shifted, and for a split second, he stepped forward, only to pause with his fingers twitching at his sides. Maybe there was confusion flickering in his gaze. Or longing. But he still didn’t move from where he stood, as if unable to break the tension he had with himself. After a time, he studied your face and added, “For everything and for nothing.” 

After a moment of thought, you shook your head. “That’s vague.” 

“It’s all I’ve got.” Father Sylus ran a hand behind his neck, almost nervously, eyes shifting and gaze searching. Another pause lingered between you, and you blinked a few times. He opened and closed his mouth, finally settling on placing both his hands on his hips, inclining his head to look at the stained glass windows. “That…and guilt.” 

His admission seemed weighted, and his voice was heavy. You watched him take a step forward, then hesitate. 

In that second, there was a great leap in understanding. You understood that he would not look directly at you because it would break this sacred reverence between you and whatever else was going on within his mind. 

Maybe it’d always been a game, and perhaps you knew deep down that this would be his next move. The inevitable, silent communication. Slowly, you folded your shaky arms over your chest. The look that flashed in his eyes made you shudder. With a new boldness, you swallowed and whispered: “Why are you telling me this?” 

Exhaling hard, you weren’t sure whether to scream, laugh, or cry as you awaited your answer.

He swallowed, his dark gaze teeming like a fire in the low light, the red burning. His lip curled. “Because I feel like you can understand it. Why I feel this way.” 

A sick urge, sharp and needy, had you crossing the space between you, the air shaking and trembling as he finally took another stride forward. Your eyes traced over his face. Deep and pained and beautiful. His chest heaved. A strange, bittersweet satisfaction filled you. 

“I - I can’t stop thinking about -” you broke off, words quivering as you spoke. “Us. The other night - it keeps going through my head, what I said, and -” your voice was breaking again, the achy, miserable desperation settling in. 

You could tell he was holding his breath, hands now clenched into fists, gaze searching and uncertain. “I didn’t mean to deceive you.” The words hung heavy as he stepped closer, finally closing the distance between you, tilting your chin, and forcing you to look at him. The grip held you firmly, though his eyes remained gentle and pleading. “I want nothing more than to pray - beg for your forgiveness. Try and restore whatever trust I’ve betrayed - but in all truth, God, I -” 

Another thick swallow, and he paused, the corner of his mouth twisting. He squeezed your chin lightly as if in search of some answer. Then his hand fell to his side, his head turning to look at the cross behind the altar. Something burned beneath your ribs. 

“What is it?” You whispered, trembling with the effort of not spilling all your unresolved thoughts. “Tell me - tell me something, anything, or - or -” You stopped yourself, feeling a little pathetic at not being able to formulate the proper words. 

“My path was never exactly clear, but,” Father Sylus swallowed thickly, sounding more scared than ever. “Someone I loved when I was younger - she -” A long sigh escaped his lips. “We were each other's firsts and…We loved each other very much.” He exhaled again. His face creased into sadness, reminiscent and haunting. A sharp pain, almost. One that lingered from emotions held within. The truth was there, plain as day, naked, heartbroken, and fragile. “She died when she was eighteen.” 

Pain squeezed at you mercilessly, tight and almost bone-crunching. You stepped closer, your brain slowly putting it all together, realization hitting. Then your bottom lip trembles as you reach out, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it. “I’m sorry,” you manage to say after a moment, “that must have been -” Another pause, trying to settle your lungs into a steadier breathing pattern. 

He squeezed your hand, looking at you, catching your gaze and holding it, unwavering. “I went to her funeral in a church far bigger than this one with twice the congregation. And later that day, when they put her down into the ground, I listened to the Monsignor pray over her soul.” He looked away again, this time up at the beams in the ceiling. “And I really listened to what he was saying for the first time. And I don’t know why, I just suddenly felt…” He trailed off, and you moved your hand further up his arm, willing him to continue by pressing your fingertips gently into his forearm. 

He smiled at the ceiling, faint and apologetic. “I felt at peace. Everything clicked into place. As stupid as that sounds. It was like something I couldn’t understand but needed. And, well,” he shrugged. 

“At last, it finally made sense to me,” he muttered. “The power God holds over us was always right there.” Then he turned to face you, his fingers reaching and resting on your cheek, tracing the soft skin of your jaw. “And now, I stand before you - finding these feelings again, the first true connection I’ve felt in years. I don’t mean to doubt anything…but I don’t know how to...” 

He let his voice drift off before tucking your hair behind your ear, movements tender. You wondered what he could see in your expression. 

“How did she die?” You asked quietly as if the question would destroy something in the air, but you needed to ask it anyway. 

The corners of his mouth trembled as he stroked his thumb along your jawline, offering you a small, grim smile. “She was mad at something, drank herself sick. Decided a joy ride on a motorcycle might be a good idea,” he turned his gaze to the ceiling again, and it finally hit you that he kept doing that as a trick to keep himself from crying. “She lost control and swerved, hit a wall head-on. Died on impact. Stupid girl with the dumbest ideas. She used to talk about seeing if the world curved or if the stars continued forever. She was funny and smart - but not as smart as she should have been. Her blood alcohol level came back three times the legal limit.” 

“That’s horrible,” you breathed. The puzzle pieces were assembled together. A crash. Drunk. How similar it was to your mother. Only your mother hadn’t met death head-on. It was still one of those things that made you wonder; which would have been worse? The chance was so similar yet unique. Still, as Father Sylus spoke about it, you swore you felt the faint sorrow he must still carry within himself.

“Sylus, I’m -” 

“Don’t be sorry.” He said, finally regaining a certain poise about his face, somehow managing to look warm even at this moment, smiling very softly. 

At his words, you realized you were breathing harder than before, and it didn’t go unnoticed as he scanned your face. You didn’t know what was wrong with you; you felt an emotion you could no longer explain. He had experienced loss, same as you, just not in the same way. 

Father Sylus let out a dry snort. “It’s not a happy memory, but something good comes from pain. Distrust to trust. Fear to courage. Hatred to love. To an extent, those things make you understand and appreciate everything.” 

You nodded, unable to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around his middle, convincing yourself you would forget how to breathe if you didn’t. You embraced him because it felt like the right thing to do, the smoothness of his shirt beneath your fingertips. His hand ran up along your side until it rested on your neck's base, soft, gentle, and warm. He exhaled a little before resting his chin on the top of your head. 

As he held you, you realized that this was what you had wanted. This was what you had really been aching for. Everything shifted again, changing, rushing with a tangle of nerves and dizziness. Nothing else would settle more easily than being cradled right there, where you could breathe him in. 

“Hey, do you -” He leaned back, both hands cupping your face, tilting it to meet his own. It took him a moment to formulate his question. “I shouldn’t ask, but - do you still want me?” 

Of course you did. More than anything. 

But even then, you should have stepped away. Should have walked out without another word, back to whatever fucking regular life you thought you had. But with whatever strength you had left, you pushed everything aside and quietly said, “Yes.” 

He had pressed you against the wooden door of the office, pinning you in place after dragging you in there and shutting the door. Not that you really had any intention of going anywhere. Not with his lips moving against yours, the desperation sending sparks along your skin.  His tongue darted out, parting your lips and moving into your mouth. Hungry and forceful and tasting every inch.

“You know,” he said as he pulled back, taking a second to breathe, “It’s so hard to be good when you’re so…” He trailed off, leaving you to only imagine what he would say. 

No, you had no words or any logical thoughts, really. Perhaps this was the closest thing to heaven you’d ever feel, surely. And Father Sylus ran his hands down your sides, slow and possessive, grabbing fistfuls of your sweater and bunching it up. Heat began spreading throughout your body as his fingertips crept underneath and stoked along the sensitive skin. 

“Will you let me in?” He mumbled, his lips now on the underside of your jaw as his palms spanned across your stomach as if trying to map out every inch of exposed skin. The blood pounded in your veins, pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat.

“If this is what it feels like to be tempted,” you mused, gasping as he sucked on the skin above your collarbone, gripping the front of his shirt. “I have already failed. Miserably.” 

Letting out a hot breath that sounded an awful lot like laughter, he pulled away, a smile stretching across his lips, amused. “I suppose you really have,” he chuckled. His hands gripped your hips and spun you around so you were against his desk. Then he ducked down to press more kisses along your throat. The shivers returned as he lifted your sweater over your head, tossing it aside with another wicked grin. And for the first time, you noticed the hint of a dimple in the corner of his mouth. 

After a moment, Father Sylus fumbled with the buttons of his shirt until that, too, was discarded, skin suddenly bare. The sight made you stop, observing for a moment. For the first time, your fingers reached out and touched the skin of his chest, moving over the muscles and across his stomach. You marveled at the way he flinched slightly, inhaling sharply at your touch. 

Everything felt…hot, heavy, and inappropriate in the best way. 

And before you knew it, his hands were running up along the bare skin of your stomach, a barely-there brush that made your breath hitch. Then his hands were behind your back, unhooking your bra as his lips found yours again, rough and fervent. As it was removed, there was not a second of delay before his hands cupped both of your breasts, squeezing and drawing his thumbs over your nipples. 

“You’re so beautiful,” his hands shifted, fingers resting along the waistband of your jeans. 

It was like every little action was becoming overwhelming, sending pulsing waves through every nerve, vein, and muscle. When he popped the button, slid the zipper, and slowly eased the jeans down, the pulsing only got stronger—dizzying with its intensity. It was challenging to focus on anything else that would make more sense. Your mind was clouded. 

“Wait,” you breathed, sitting on the desk, pulling the clip from your hair and tossing it to the floor, the waves tumbling out. His hands never left you, still roaming over every little centimeter of you they could get access to, “I -” 

It didn’t need to be said, whatever it was. Because a grin broke out across his lips. A bright, glorious grin as Father Sylus pressed another harsh kiss to your lips like he could swallow the words down.

Stepping closer, he maneuvered you onto your back, your legs dangling over the edge of the desk. The smooth, cool wood pressed against the length of your spine and shoulders as you heard something that sounded like a book fall somewhere behind you. He gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, blunt nails digging in. Breath hitching, your heart thumped at the roughness and passion of his movements. Something animalistic and unrestrained lay just beneath the surface, waiting, ready. 

“Let me,” he urged quietly, fingers winding over the lace underwear, dragging them down the length of your legs. Fingers stroked up again, curling and caressing your inner thighs, one hand finally reaching the place where you were already desperate, soaking wet, and aching to be touched. Without hesitation, a digit dipped, sliding along your slick folds and slipping in easily. The motion made you bite down on your tongue as his other hand ran along the underside of your knee, urging your leg up and apart. 

You felt the pad of his thumb gliding over the little bundle of nerves, back and forth in a way that made you groan. 

“You are,” his voice was low, almost a growl, and his teasing continued. “So gorgeous, laying there. I can’t stop looking at you.” One finger became two. Slick and hot as they moved into you, each stroke moving deeper. All too suddenly, his lips were crashing down against yours, kissing you hard and desperately as if set on devouring you whole. 

The only thing keeping you stable was grabbing his shoulder and his upper arm. The sudden rise of pressure rushed around you. His thumb slipped, pressing down a bit more on your clit, drawing another gasp from you, a sound that filled the room. Then he pulled his hand away, an invisible weight settling when the digits were gone, leaving you empty and still aching for more. 

“I’m on birth control,” you managed, eyes blinking rapidly as you processed that this, in fact, was actually about to happen. The fullness beneath your belly was spooling tighter, coiling. 

It was only a few seconds; that’s all it took for him to undo his belt buckle, his length freed. Straining, leaking, begging to be inside you. The size of it makes you swallow a certain anxious lump in your throat. 

“Please.” The word spilled out before you could stop it. The coil inside you grew more and more tense and throbbing. You needed it now; the consequences didn’t matter, nor did the guilt or shame. “Please.”

His breathing hitched as if a long controlled flame within had been ignited. One of his hands rested on your hip, the other hooking under your opposite knee, parting you further and steadying himself. The tip of his cock pressed at your center. You didn’t have any time to prepare because, at that very moment, he was pushing further, sliding into you inch by inch. 

The heat and fullness and pleasure coursed, trembling through you. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, face buried in the crook of your neck, but you could hear the grin in his tone, the soft desperation in his voice. “You, you -” but his breath choked off as he pushed all the way inside, the moan that ripped through him cracked and hoarse. 

It took you a moment to feel him fully, gasping for air and dazed beyond what was really necessary. Holding tight, you wrapped an arm around his neck, exhaling hard. The room became a haze around the two of you, the entire moment almost suspended, paused, put on hold. 

When he moved his hips again, you whimpered as he hit somewhere deep, and your pleasure spiked. 

“Fuck,” he whispered against your skin, raising himself just enough to look at you, eyes glinting with a certain fervor. A little dark, a little feral, something wildly possessive and hungry and yearning all at once. “Oh, fuck,” he hissed, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. Another jolt shot through you. Another strong thrust, this one harder than the last, followed by another. And another. It took a minute for him to set a rhythm, but when he did - you were sure the air was being pushed from your lungs each time. 

You couldn’t do anything but hang on. His mouth met yours in a sloppy, forceful kiss. Gasping and shuddering, you tried not to shout at the next jolt. The constant grind fills you every time. Deeper and sharper. The steady, thrumming pleasure. Intense and focused, as if Father Sylus were on a mission. Searching for something. Finding each sweet spot with whatever desperate greed drove him. Like now that he’d had the taste of something forbidden, he wanted the best of it - anything you could offer. 

He shifted slightly, and before you knew it, he hooked your leg over his shoulder, the deep angle making you arch from the desk. 

One hand tangled in his hair, the other on his shoulder, gripping hard and pulling him closer, trying to keep him buried deep inside of you. The friction built, the pace driving forward and drawing the pressure up, leaving you malleable and aching for release. But somehow, wanting it to last as long as possible. 

When the pleasure spooled tighter and tighter, every breath came short, coming fast and shorter. Until finally with one long, breathy whimper of an exhale, release washed over you, crashing like a wave. His name slipped out of your mouth, some deep, instinctual part of your brain keeping you present enough to utter it, still pulsing around him, shaking. 

And that brought him there, a little broken sound falling from his lips. Hips snapping, driving just the slightest bit further until he groaned into the side of your neck, spilling inside you. After a moment, the stillness settled between the two of you, heavy and thick. There was no actual sound other than ragged breathing. 

You stared at the ceiling, trembling and a bit boneless, wholly dumbfounded and satisfied. Then, with every ounce of energy left, you sat up, placing a hand on his chest.

“You okay?” 

A rush flooded through you at his question, and you struggled to make sense - to be logical and reasonable. 

“Yeah,” you said quickly, “I just. I…” What was the right wording? You trailed off, eyes focused somewhere beyond him. Struggling, you kept your eyes away. How could you possibly articulate the warmth that had settled over you, the lift in your confusion that had been gnawing at you until this moment? How could you explain feelings that make no real sense? 

“I feel at peace.” A near whisper because your words made it tangible, whatever it was. And really, you did feel lighter. It was as if something weighing on your shoulders had lifted in a way that wasn’t just because of the act that had been performed. 

“Really?” A sharp inhale of his breath. 

You nodded, reaching out to hold his face and running your thumbs along his cheekbones. Father Sylus slowly returned the nod, a tentative but wonderful, hopeful smile quirking up his lips—something bright and genuine, untouched by bitterness or remorse.

Serenity had sunken in with a comforting familiarity. Settling inside, like the feeling of returning home. Like the truth had opened its door. Acceptance and serenity. Understanding. Clarity, even. The knowledge you weren’t as broken or faulty as you thought. 

A moment passed, no words spoken. Then, still breathless and maybe a bit disbelieving, Father Sylus reached out and traced a cross on your brow with his thumb. 

“Did you just -” You blinked, a bit indignant as you huffed. “Did you just…bless me?”

He looked a bit sheepish, hands resting on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing gentle circles along your collarbone. “Guess I did.” With a slight chuckle, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

Tag list: @celestialforce, @readerxyourbabe, @babyx91

[ferrocyan]

nodding at all this yes. i didnt get the sense feral souls are used with impunity but that does sound like it makes sense too. although regarding the effects lets consider that going by the story, a fighter can have two matches in one day, back to back (the wol wins against black cat then immediately had to fight honey b lovely the same day) so maybe the effects arent that severe. or youre supposed to get over it quickly or something. a mood crash would work i think if it comes w the stigma that you shouldnt let a bad mood keep you from doing your job

and your next point reminds me, the arcadion tiers are sorted not by the fighters strength, but by the potency of their feral souls, right? there is likely some kind of qualification needed to use upper tier souls. like, only the champion who can defeat everyone in their tier is allowed to level up and use stronger souls. ...hey do you think brute bombers energy drink enhancement is the way he signals to the management that he can handle a more potent soul, so just promote him already? also, tangent but the beasts themselves--the wasp and bomb are overworld enemies, compared to eutropes ixion which is a fate boss (yaanas cath palug is one im really not sure about, bc i dont recognize the silhouette.. but its got a name so i wonder if its not a normal coeurl, and yaana is supposed to be a cruiserweight user or something?) i wonder what the cruiserweight beasts will be then

this is probably nothing

like i rly dont know if theres anything to make of this but uh. the fact that the arcadion fighters have their intro posters and walk into the ring in their real faces. that bothers me. the promo material arent of their feral soul fusion forms, its just the guys and gals as themselves. also, looking at honey for example, her poster is honey b lovely the idol, not the queen bee, and she greets her fans at the beginning of the match as honey the regular female idol as well. its like, they are all larger than life stage personas, yeah, but that includes their normal life selves too. it just bothers me a bit? where does the stage persona end and the real person begin? this is why in my canon honey has to have a worksona disguise to have another job, bc her real face is owned by the arcadion as honey b lovely

rly dont know if this is anything though. i do humbly request anyone who might be seeing this and know better for your insight. i shall just stick the "kick me" sign on my own back

[thegreatestheaver]

in the 17 days I’ve been college free I have like. completely reversed my sleep schedule I’m COOKED. going to bed near 5am every night then waking up near 2pm if I’m not forced awake by someone ringing my phone (more often than not I am indeed forced awake)

[ashmp3]

got told i have mesmerizing eyes + got asked if i am lesbian in a span of 5 minutes we are so back

[moonilit]

I like to think Bruce have a journal, not as batman just as Bruce Wayne and you can see where he wrote all the headaches he gets from his kids

[cleverpaws]

sneegen thank u for reminding me i forgot to put this somewhere. but my second doodle dump of my showfall kids AU from like . 6 months ago was during a time when hetch being rgb's like pseudo adopted father was still canon to that one 😟 yeah it is NOT canon anymore and i never said that anywhere so im saying it here

[maretriarch]

turns out how not to be deficient in fat in your diet is to stop eating only low fat versions of foods