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rafeandonlyrafe · 7 months ago

Text

just add water

words: 5k

warnings: brief illusions to sex but no smut, mermaids (like h2o mermaids), tropical storm/bad weather, really fluffy hehe, australian!reader, lots of kisses omfg these bitches in LOVE!

it's one of the few things rafe does to calm himself down. sandals held in his hand, feet pressing into the cool sand with every step.

rafe looks down the beach, the moonlight reflecting off the water as the waves gently lap against the shore. he squints into the darkness when he sees movement, hoping his relaxing walk isn't going to be interrupted by someone's public intimate moment.

he continues walking, the same stretch of beach he always does, passing by familiar houses of friends and old classmates.

his vision clears as he gets closer, eyes widening when he sees you, knees pulled up to your chest as you stare into the water.

“hey.” rafe says when he's a couple yards away, not wanting to spook. you, but it fails as you gasp and jump up to standing.

“sorry.” rafe holds his hands up, trying to show that he means you no harm. “im just taking a walk on the beach.”

you take a step back, like you're making room for him to walk past, for him to continue to leave footsteps in the sand, but rafe looks closer at you as the moon shines down, light slightly illuminating from the rows of houses with porch lights or bedroom lights left on before bed.

“im rafe.” rafe can't seem to keep walking, his feet planted firmly as his eyes roam over your face. “i don't think we've met before.”

“just moved here.” you explain quickly. “im y/n.”

“you're australian?” it's more of a statement than a question, but you nod, the accent clearly giving you away.

“i was wondering why i haven't seen you before. it's a small island, everyone kinda knows everyone.”

“yeah.” it's a signal to end the conversation, polite but firm, but again rafe can't help himself, drawn close to you looking out onto the water just as he does.

“would you like me to give you a tour of the island? tomorrow or whenever you're available.”

“that would actually be really nice.” you smile at rafe. you were worried about leaving everything you knew in australia when your parents moved you across the country, and it's perfect luck that you meet someone your very first night in the outer banks willing to show you around.

“here.” rafe pulls his phone out of his pocket. he puts it on do not disturb for his walks, pretending it's not there, not allowing it to distract him, but he needs your phone number, needs to see you again, to see if your eyes are the same enchanting twinkling of the water in the daytime.

you take his phone and put in your name and number before handing it back, hand briefly touching his, feeling warm against your slightly chilled skin, making you realize you probably should have put on more than just shorts and a tank top for relaxing at the shore at night.

“ill text you.” rafe says, giving you one last look over before taking a step back, not turning away yet, keeping his eyes on you, as if you're an apparition thats going to disappear the minute he blinks.

rafe finally turns away to walk home, not looking back. he smiles. he can feel your eyes on him.

you sigh as you step into the bath, sinking in as your legs morph into a tail moments after the water makes contact with you. you never realized how much you loved showers until you couldn't take them anymore.

you have a love hate relationship with your abilities. being able to manipulate the shape and volume of water, as well as enhanced breath and super speed swimming, is amazing. but having your bottom half turn into a mermaid tail every time water touches you is a hard accomodation to make when your parents love the ocean.

you wash yourself off quickly, knowing you have to get totally dry before rafe gets here to show you around the island.

two weeks in the outer banks. the time feels like it's flown by. you're surprised how much you don't miss australia. your parents tended to jump around from town to town to surf, so you never developed a close group of friends either.

two weeks spent with rafe, first showing you the popular parts of the island, then his favorite areas, the spots only locals know about, filling you in on all the nicknames that can't be found with a simple google search.

the only place he hasn't shown you yet is anything out on the water. you refuse every time he offers to take you out on his boat, and his sad face breaks your heart.

“wanna go out on the boat today?” rafe asks, just as you're thinking about it, like the idea transferred from your head to his. you hope that's not a new power developing.

“sure.” you finally concede, heart fluttering when rafes face breaks into a wide smile. you are taking things slowly, despite what is clearly forming. “but no swimming.”

you hate having to lie to rafe, pretending like you don't wake up every morning and explore the waters of the outer banks before hiding under a pier to dry off. you told him you were afraid of the water, that you didn't like going in it, merely enjoying looking at it.

rafe is excited to take you out, so much so that wheezie gives him a weird look before shrugging, deciding to herself that crushes make boys do crazy things, because she's never seen her brother act like this, so enthralled.

“here, ill help you.” rafe reaches his hand out as you step into the boat. you don't want to let go as he guides you towards the bench behind the helm, allowing you to sit down as your fingers finally disconnect.

“im gonna show you everything.” rafe undoes the lines quickly before returning to you. “and by the end of your boat tour, you'll realize that the outer banks is so much better than australia.”

rafe places an arm around your back, not caring that he now has to navigate with just one as you giggle and tuck yourself into his side.

the ocean calls to you as rafe shows you different spots, the outer banks feeling so different when looking back at the land.

rafe anchors the boat at a sandbar. you look over the edge, surprised how crystal clear the water is in this area.

“there's a spring in that marshy area over there.” rafe points towards a cluster of grass. “it feeds out into the ocean here. one of the best spots in the obx.”

“it's beautiful.” you say honestly. the sun is warm against your face, tanning your skin and relaxing you, keeping you dry enough to not turn whenever a drop of water splashed over the side of the boat onto your skin.

it's dangerous to be on the boat, but you can't help it with the way rafes eyes light up as he looks at you before ripping his shirt off over his head, catapulting over the side into the water.

“rafe!” you shout as a plume of water splashes up, soaking your arm.

rafe smiles at you as he resurfaces before his expression quickly shifts to a frown when he sees you furiously rubbing a towel against your arm.

“y/n, the water isn't dirty.” rafe didn't realize how deep your fear got. he climbs back onto the boat as you stagger back, face twisting in fear as you look at rafe.

“shit, im sorry.” rafe takes a step towards you, but you back away.

“take me back, please.” you sit down at the front of the boat, making your position clear.

rafe nods, glad the water covering him is hiding the tears that well up in his eyes as he pulls the anchor.

you stay sat far away, towel wrapped around your shoulders to protect you from getting wet as rafe drives back in silence, not speaking until he has the boat tied back to the dock, now completely dry and donning his tshirt again.

“hey.” rafe kneels in front of you. “im really sorry.”

you open your mouth to reply, to tell him it's okay, but rafe continues speaking.

“you said no swimming. i should have listened. i saw this-” rafe places a glimmering queen helmet conch shell in your lap. “at the sand bar and wanted to get it for you. so you could remember this day.”

rafe stands up, figuring this is the last time he'd see you after his mess up. “so you can remember me.”

you stand up quickly, but make sure to carefully set the shell on the seat next to you. before you can second guess your actions, before that cautious voice in your head can convince you otherwise, you press your lips against rafes, having to rise to your tiptoes to reach.

rafe hesitates for a moment before kissing back, arms wrapping around your waist, tugging you in tight to him.

“this is a cute spot.” you snuggle into rafes side, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders, showing all of the obx that he's taken, and you're the one who's captured his eye.

“it is.” rafe hums, looking around the diner. it's not his usual place, but rafe wanted somewhere casual to take you, so you didn't have to worry about dressing up or proper etiquette for your first official date.

you order a stack of pancakes as it's around brunch time, rafe ordering a cheeseburger for himself. you smile at the waiter as they walk away before looking to rafe. “im totally gonna steal some of your fries by the way.”

“fries and pancakes?” rafe twists his face up as you giggle.

“potatoes go with everything.” you explain, like it's a commonly known fact.

“what's your favorite food?” rafe asks. he's dying to know everything about you, wanting to sit you down and run through the list of questions in his head, but he knows it's best to take things slow, to allow things to progress naturally despite wanting to ask you about your favorite color, past boyfriends, whether you're a cat or dog person and so so much more.

you're about to answer when a passing waitress stumbles, her tray of waters heading to a crowded table dumping over you, getting your entire side wet.

the waitress goes to apologize, but you're already on your feet, mental timer starting in your head as you rush to the restroom, letting out a sigh of relief when you realize it's just a single stall as you lock the door behind you moments before you fall to the ground as your tail appears.

“y/n?” rafe must have run after you as he jiggles the doorknob.

“im okay!” you call out. “just drying off. give me a minute.”

“are you sure?” you can picture rafe standing outside, ear pressed against the door.

“yeah. ill be out soon.” you try to reach up to the towel dispenser with little luck. “you better not eat all the fries before i get back.”

you're relieved to hear rafes laugh as you finally get the motion sensor to work, rubbing it over your side, letting out a sigh of relief when your tail finally transforms back into two legs.

you stand up, always feeling a bit wobbly at first, but you want to get back to rafe, to your date and most importantly as your stomach rumbles to your pancakes and fries.

“aussie cheesy potatoes.” you say as you slide into your seat. “my favorite food, aussie cheesy potatoes.”

i miss you

you send the text to rafe, smiling when his response bubble instantly appears.

i was just about to text you the same thing

you know you're in the honeymoon phase of your relatively new relationship, but you can't help the giggle that escapes from your lips, the way your heart starts to beat faster.

meet you halfway? rafe sends back before an image loads of a dark beach, camera pointing down the shoreline towards your house.

on my way <3

you quickly touch up your makeup in the mirror, deciding to stay in your pajamas since they're just a loose long sleeve shirt and comfortable shorts. you hesitate between putting on a pair of sneakers or sandals, ultimately deciding more coverage is the smarter option.

you are quiet when leaving your house, just in case your parents are awake. you doubt theyd care anyways, they probably haven't noticed how much you've been gone lately. you are an adult after all, but they stopped being protective the minute you were in your teens, letting you surf solo for the first time the day after your thirteenth birthday.

you walk down the beach, keeping your steps fast as you look for rafe, breaking out into a jog when you finally see his figure emerge from the darkness.

you throw your arms around rafe as he twirls you, tucking his head into your neck, pressing kisses to your delicate skin before pulling back to connect your lips together.

“hey.” rafe smiles at you, lowering you carefully back to the ground.

“hey.” you peck his lips again in another kiss.

“you look beautiful.” rafe says earnestly, the words falling from his mouth. you're beautiful to him during the day too, but there's something about night time that makes you shine, like the moon calls to you.

“not too bad yourself handsome.” you let rafe string your fingers together before beginning to walk, back in the direction of tanneyhill.

you chat about your days as you stroll, mostly with what rafe was occupied with as he helped his dad, spending your first day away from each other since you arrived on the island. safe to say you're both falling fast.

“stay the night with me?” rafe asks when you're standing in front of tanneyhill, the large house frightening imposing.

“i don't know…” you trail off, but the smile on your face tells rafe you clearly want to.

“at least lay with me on the hammock for a while.” rafe tugs on your hand, and you find your feet following him. he lifts the mosquito netting up as you duck under, toeing your shoes off as rafe lays down.

you snuggle in next to him, sighing as you rest your head against his chest, the fabric squeezing the two of you together.

you both enjoy the gentle quiet, the sound of the waves and wind rushing through the leaves the only thing breaking into your peaceful silence, not needing words, just each other.

sleep takes you both, warmed by your bodies wrapped together.

you're not sure what jolts you awake, but you're glad it happens as your eyes snap open, a drop of water hitting your cheek.

“shit…” you mumble, quickly pushing it off your skin as you look up at the gray sky, the events of last night coming back to you as you realize you're still in the hammock next to rafe. you don't want to move, you're the most comfortable you've ever been in your life, but the skies threatening to open and dump it's rain down on you has you scrambling.

“baby?” rafes voice is deep with sleep as you rush to put your shoes on, knowing the dew on the grass is going to turn you as you look towards the house.

“i-i need to pee!” you yell quickly, pushing out of the mosquito netting as you run, the rain beginning to fall. you're aware of every drop as you push some away with your abilities, but ultimately you can't stop nature as a few drops hit your back.

you aim for the glass doors, praying they're left unlocked as you burst inside, eyes widening when you see not just wheezie, who you've come to know pretty well, but the entire rest of the cameron family milling around in the kitchen.

you're seconds away from transforming as you find your voice. “bathroom.” you simply say before rushing into the closest half bath, glad you accepted the full tour from rafe one day when both ward and rose were away from the house.

“shit.” you mutter under your breath as you hear through the door that rafe has come in after you, mentioning something to his family about rain coming before the tropical storm set to hit in the next couple weeks if it doesn't change direction.

you grab the towel, neatly embroidered with their last name as you rub your back, glad it's only a couple drops as you're quickly able to exit the bathroom.

“sorry about that.” you say awkward, clasping your hands in front of you.

“i was wondering when you lovebirds would wake up or if the rain would do that for you.” ward smiles, eyes flicking between you and rafe. you let him lead the amount of affection as he walks and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“stay with us for breakfast, y/n.” rose says. clearly someone told the couple about you, most likely wheezie tattling on her brother. you just hope she said nice things.

“yeah, id love that.” you say after rafe squeezes your shoulder to let you know it's okay.

good morning gorgeous

you smile at the text, grabbing your phone the second you were awake.

you quickly reply, a string of emojis that only lovesick you would type out.

there's a party this friday. come with me?

you glance at the calendar hanging on your wall. not a typical one filled with appointments or birthdays, but one charting the phases of the moon, letting you know when it's safe to be out at night. you let out a curse when you realize friday night is a full moon.

sorry baby i can't :( parents want me home to call my grandma back in australia

you can come after, yeah?

sorry rafe

you leave it at that, hating telling him no, but you need to stay inside during the full moon.

you should totally go though! spend some time with your friends

rafe doesn't mention the party again when you meet up later that day.

“i got the party changed to saturday.” rafe says, his head sat in your lap as you brush your fingers through his hair.

“what?” you question, raising your eyebrows. you're sat in your bed, the afternoon sun pouring in from the open windows, watching some show on tv neither of you were truly invested in, just background noise as you look into each other's eyes.

“the party this friday. you can go saturday right?”

“yeah.” you nod, smile stretching across your lips. “yeah, i can.” you shouldn't be surprised rafe changed everyone's schedules just to fit yours, the party is at his friend's house after all.

you're excited to finally meet them, you've heard bits and pieces from rafe, but have never gotten to actually see them.

you spend the entire time you're locked in your bedroom on friday night choosing exactly what to wear, curtains drawn tight closed, even blankets thrown over for extra precaution, not allowing any of the full moon to peek inside.

you realize you made the correct decision when saturday night comes and you open the door to rafe, his jaw visibly dropping.

“oh my god, i was totally picturing someone different when you were talking about topper.” you whisper to rafe after walking away from his friends to find a quieter spot. you didn't even have to tell rafe that you were starting to get overwhelmed, he seemed to sense it and pulled you away, not caring that kelce was still going on about something.

“what did you picture?” rafe asks, hoping the talking will distract you from all the excitement of the party, finding an empty guest bedroom and sitting down on the bed together.

“i don't know why but dark hair.” you shrug. “and i always pictured glasses.”

rafe laughs as he leans against you, your hand coming to his hair to scratch at his head, the soft movements of your fingers comforting you just as much as rafe.

“thanks for meeting them. and coming here with me.” rafe says earnestly. he's always liked parties of course, going wild and getting drunk or high or whatever he felt like that night, grinding against different girls and ultimately taking one to bed. rafe never put together how all of that was just a distraction, that he wasn't truly happy.

“you make me happy.” rafe says, turning to look at you, eyes still twinkling, reminding him of the ocean, the moon, the most stunning gemstone, and something so uniquely you.

“rafe.” you coo, pressing your lips together. you don't come out of the guest bedroom until the morning after, giggling quietly as you sneak out of toppers house, your hair a mess and clothes askew.

“i just realized ive never seen you in a swimsuit before.” rafes eyes look carefully over your body, having just taken off your coverup once your arrived at the spring again, rafe vowing not to jump in again, simply enjoying laying out and tanning on the boat.

you smile at rafe, gesturing for him to get closer.

rafe crawls over the bed area at the front of the boat to hover over you, pressing his lips tightly against yours. your hands feel his muscles, skirting from his chest down to his defined abs.

“you know, there's no one else out here.” you smile up at him as you reach lower.

“naughty girl.” rafe chuckles, glancing around to make sure no boats were within view.

once you're both finished, tired and panting, skin sheened with sweat, rafe finally brings up a question he's been dying to ask.

“why don't you like the water?”

you place your chin on your hand as you turn to look at rafe, taking a moment to formulate an answer. you hate having to lie to him, but you don't want to reveal your secret yet, for rafe to look at you any differently.

“i used to love to swim, to surf.” you say honestly. “but then something happened… and it's turned me away from it. i don't even like pools.”

rafe doesn't push for more, but his face does turn to a frown, thinking about whatever happened. he's guessing you got caught in a riptide or had a near drowning experience, he would never in a million years guess that you fell into a cave exploring an island after a fight with your parents and swam through a mysterious pool to get out, waking up to surf the next day only to transform into a mermaid.

“im sorry baby.” rafe says honestly. he wishes he could fix whatever happened, to enjoy riding on a jet ski with you, or relaxing on a sandbar.

“it's okay.” you shake your head. “i like being on the boat with you.” you say. “you make me feel comfortable.”

rafe pulls you back into him, not caring if you get an uneven tan line as he kisses you again. he swears you taste like honey with the slightest hint of sea salt.

“we got cyclones all the time back in australia.” you tell rafe, looking out your window. the sky looks normal, no sign of a tropical storm that's supposed to be blowing in soon, thankfully it never upgraded to a hurricane.

“do you want me to come over for it anyways?” rafe smiles at you as you finish braiding your hair. “hold you just in case you get scared.”

you laugh as you stand up, dramatically falling onto the bed, placing a fanned hand on your forehead. “oh, save me rafe cameron, save me!”

rafe laughs as well, pulling you against him. your shared laughter always turns into shared kisses. it's been months now that you've been in the outer banks. you swear your accent is even diminishing ever so slightly.

but you don't miss australia. you love your life here. spending nearly every day with rafe, exploring the island and the waterways, trying out different food spots and even letting rafe give you golf lessons, despite your inability to hit the ball straight.

you open the door as soon as there's a knock, expecting rafe, but your face falls when you see ward standing there.

“y/n, is rafe here?” he questions, entire body soaking wet from the storm, now covered by your front porch, dripping onto the welcome mat.

“no.” you shake your head. “he should be here any minute though…”

“shit.” wards eyes are wide with worry. “he took the boat out. i was hoping he docked it here.”

“the boat?” your voice rises as your anxiety does as well. “what is he doing on the water in this storm?”

“he likes to go to the spring at the start of storms to watch them roll down the coast, but he's always back before it hits. something must have happened to the boat, i don't know.” you can tell ward is rambling. “maybe he ran out of gas or got caught in something-”

“you have to go out there and save him! the waves-” you don't need to tell ward, you're sure he knows how bad the water is going to get, how violent the storm will make the sea, even in the shallow area rafe is in.

“i can't.” he shakes his head. “i already tried the coastguard but they won't go out until the storm is over.”

“he's your son!” you argue. “you go!”

“i can't.” you can hear the pain in wards voice. “if something happens to me, sarah and wheezie will have no one.”

you know it's not an appropriate reaction, but you're so mad, so worried about rafe being out there in this mess that you slam the door right in wards face.

you walk back through your house, past the empty kitchen and dark dining room to your living room, the glass doors revealing the storm raging outside. you make a decision in that split second, opening the door and barely shutting it behind you before you take off, rain hitting you in the face. you send out a prayer to the moon to allow you to reach the water before you transform. you make it onto the sand before face planting, having to awkwardly pull yourself forward into the water.

the second you're submerged, you take off, using your speed swimming abilities to navigate through the waters and strong tides. you go faster than ever, heading in the direction of the spring and sandbar, desperate to find your boyfriend and make sure he is safe.

you see through the rain at the surface of the water his boat, letting out a sigh of relief when you see he's anchored in his usual spot.

“rafe!” you call once your surface. “rafe!” you shout again, hoping he can hear you over the roar of the wind and rain.

rafe pops up, looking over the edge, wrench in hand, clearly trying to fix whatever is wrong with his boat, a smear of oil on his forehead not washing away with the rain.

“y/n?” rafe shouts. “what the fuck are you doing?”

rafe drops the wrench, rushing closer to the edge as he looks at you. your tail flicks up. there's no hiding it anymore. you don't want to anyways.

“babe, get out of the water theres-” rafe blinks, his eyes squinting as he realizes its not some strange fish, but in fact covering your legs.

“get in the water rafe im going to swim us back home.” you shout, eyes turning to the sky, looking down the coast. the worst of the storm hasn't hit yet thankfully. with the size of the waves coming, it's sure to capsize his boat.

“baby-” rafe swallows harshly before jumping over the side. he may not understand what's going on, but he trusts you.

you grab onto rafe, keeping his head above the surface as you swim. it's slower getting back pushing him with you, but you go as fast as your tail will allow.

“you're a mermaid.” rafe says simply when you get back to shore, deciding to go to your house instead of tanneyhill, just in case ward is looking out his windows for rafe to return.

“go inside, ill be okay in the water.” you tell rafe, just needing to make that final couple steps onto the sand.

“im not leaving you out here.” rafe simply says, glancing to your tail before back at your face. he scoops you up in his arms, holding you tight to his chest as he carries you onto land, despite how heavy your tail is.

you hold onto rafes shoulders as he brings you inside. he sets you down on the plush rug in the living room as gently as possible.

“the tail doesn't go away until im dry again.” you lift your fin up and down as the rain pounds against the windows.

“ill get some towels.” rafe is ridiculously calm, coming back and patting you down in silence until your legs reappear.

“im sorry for not telling you earlier.” you say with a whisper, hand reaching out to hold rafes, shifting to sit up. “i-i love you rafe, but i understand if you want to break-”

you can't even finish your sentence as rafe leans in, pressing your lips together. “i love you too.”

“is that the right part?” you ask rafe, leaning yourself against the ladder as he fixes the engine on the boat, somehow it managed to stay anchored at the sandbar.

“we'll see right now.” rafe cranks the key, letting out a cheer when it turns on.

you smile as he jumps over the side in a dramatic celebration before resurfacing and shaking his wet hair out of his face.

“okay, you gotta show me again.” rafe stands on the sandbar as you swim around him, tail flicking back and forth.

you concentrate on a spot of water, lifting it into the air before popping it like a bubble, sending droplets raining down.

“you're the most amazing person ive ever met.” rafe says. “most amazing mermaid.” you correct him with a giggle and a splash of your tail.

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planetpedri · 15 days ago

Text

To say hello — Trent Alexander-Arnold.

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Seeing your ex was no fun thing, but sitting beside him on a two hour flight was even worse. And you realize, to say ‘hello’ was to allow so much more.

Word count: 2k+

Disclaimer/s: Slight angst , hopeful/happy ending.

A/N: Nobody wants him the way I do.

The first time you’d seen Trent after your breakup was on a flight to Paris. You were nearly late to your plane. Traffic had delayed your planned arrival, then the lines were horrific, and you’d had to run across the whole airport just to get to your gate on time. Luckily, you got in with five minutes to spare.

Quickly finding your first class seat, you scan the rows. 1B.. 2B.. 3B.. oh.

Your heart sunk.

His seemingly did too, all the color draining from his face as he processed just who you were. He choked out your name, his eyes blinking rapidly.

“That’s my seat.” You mumble, motioning to the window seat. There was such a little chance of this ever happening, but of course with your luck it did.

Trent unbuckles and stands from his seat to allow you out of the isle, his eyes staying trained on you the whole time. It’d been well over a year since the two of you had seen each other, so he was simply taking in all your differences.

An hour passed, and neither of you talked. You’d forcefully kept your legs leaning against the side of the plane, your whole body shifting away from him. Trent on the other hand, had played it off as cool as possibly by sitting normally and watching a movie on the screen provided. He couldn’t help the few glances he stole your way, but then again, neither could you.

Eventually, when the food came, you were forced to sit normally, that’s when Trent spoke to you for the first time.

“Hello.” He finally sighs, playing with his food.

“Hey.” You reply, taking a bite to focus on anything but the awkward silence that followed.

Trent glanced your way, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “What are the chances?”

“Trent.” You huff, “i’m trying to eat.” You didn’t even have an appetite. He seemed to have that effect on you. Every time you were reminded of him, you couldn’t eat for hours. Whether it was from the longing to see him again, or the hatred that bubbled within you, you weren’t all too sure.

The Scouser didn’t seem to care, as he continued talking to you for the rest of the flight. Of course, you eventually entertained it, because the more you talked, the less he did. Trent was always a listener, and when he did, he kept his mouth shut.

Finally, the plane landed and you made your hasty escape. Trent didn’t even have a chance to call after you, to say the things he’d been trying to gain the courage to tell you for months. You were gone.

That night, lying in his hotel overlooking the beautiful city of love, Trent couldn’t hold it in. He’d dialed your number, refilling his glass in the process.

You pick up with a low groan, half asleep as you speak. “It’s midnight, Trent. Go to sleep.”

“I miss you, and I know I messed up.” He sighs, not even giving you a moment to process what he was saying before he continues. “I’m sorry.”

There’s shuffling on his end, and you hear the ice clinking into the sides of a glass. Thats when you register the slur in his accent. Annoyance grows within you. These were drunken thoughts, they didn’t mean anything.

“You still have my number saved.” Another beat of silence where he whispers out your name, “say something.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.” You don’t deny it because yes, you did. In the year since your break up, you had failed to get yourself to the point of deleting his existence. You didn’t know why, but the thought of erasing his once meaningful presence was hard to do.

“Good night, Trent.” And with that, you hung up, sinking into your pillow with a soft exhale.

The summer had passed, and in that time you hadn’t heard from Trent again. Clearly, that night in Paris had been nothing but a drunken mistake. A mistake that left you reliving every moment with him. In the three years you’d dated, it had taken three months to relive all your best memories. For three months, he was all you could think about.

Trent hadn’t even attempted to get ahold of you, maybe out of shame, maybe because he simply didn’t care. You were beginning to think rejecting him that night was the worst decision you’d ever made.

Now, driving through the rugged English roads, you couldn’t control the way your fingers slid across your phone’s screen, dialing the number you had engraved into your mind.

It had only dialed for a count of three, before the sleepy hum of your name was heard. “‘Something wrong?” He asks, exhaustion clear in the way he spoke, but alongside it was concern. It was like all those months ago, but the roles had been reversed.

“Hello.” You finally get out, “I miss you, too.”

Trent doesn’t chuckle, he doesn’t sigh, he doesn’t grunt. He does wake up fully, though, sitting up straight in his bed. “Where are you?”

“Uhm, somewhere near fifth and chord? I’m not too sure..”

“Come over?” His voice holds a hint of pleading, and you were weaker than ever.

“Do you still live in the same apartment?” You ask, already turning to make your way there instinctively, assuming he hadn’t moved in the year you’d broken up.

You had imagined the small smile growing on his face as he heard the blinker, you could practically hear it in his voice. “Yeah, you can let yourself in.”

It’s your turn to smile, “do you seriously still leave your key above the door? Trent, how many times do I have to tell you how dangerous that is?”

He’d lied, of course. He just missed that scolding tone in your voice, the one filled with amusement but genuine care.

“I’m joking!” He laughs, “i’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Once you’d reached his apartment, and long since hung up, you give yourself a few moments to think about what you were doing. This was a stupid idea. He was your ex. You weren’t supposed to allow these things to happen.

Opening the door, you hesitantly make your way inside. It was clean, surprisingly. He hadn’t always been this tidy when you were dating, so it was a pleasant surprise. You slip off your shoes and set your purse on one of the hooks.

“Trent?” You call out, walking through the kitchen into the living room, and down the hall toward his bedroom.

He opens the door, his eyes darting across your face as if he was trying to assure himself you were really there. “Hello.” He says softly, opening the door wider to invite you in.

You don’t respond, your skin crawling by simply being in his presence again. Walking into his bedroom, your eyes trace the small changes, other than the lack of your things, it hadn’t changed much. Trailing your fingers across his desk, you pause, eyes finding their way back to his closet.

Your spot there was still untouched. Empty. He hadn’t filled it in with his own clothes, that you knew he needed. Trent had an excess of clothes, he always needed more space, yet he never touched your side.

Your eyes flicker to his, and he seemed to catch what you were thinking. “I didn’t think it’d last this long.” He admits.

Pursing your lips, you nod, although it didn’t make sense. You’d been broken up for well over a year now, so that wasn’t necessarily an excuse.

You found your way to his bed, slowly sitting down on it. Trent watches from afar, still leaning against the wall a few feet from his door. He takes careful note of your every move, every expression.

“So, now what?” You finally ask the question that was weighing on both of your minds as you play with the comforter.

Trent’s quiet, not knowing how far he should push this. “Stay the night, it’s late. We can talk tomorrow.”

Your eyebrow quirks, “no silly shit. Just sleeping.” You point at him accusatorially, which elicits a laugh from the man.

“Wouldn’t dream of pulling any ‘silly shit’.”

“I need pajamas.” You huff, pushing yourself off the bed and wadding towards his closet. “And—“

“Extra toothbrushes are under the sink, along with makeup remover.” He grins, cutting you off.

Rolling your eyes, you take a tee shirt from his closet. “You’ve been waiting for this day. Or, oh lord. Trent, have you been preparing for other girls?” You feign hurt, clasping a hand over your heart.

Trent leans against the doorframe of the walk in closet, grinning down at you, but a hint of sincerity flashes across his face. “I definitely wouldn’t dream of that.”

You try not to let the clear relief show on your face, but you couldn’t stop the twitch of your lips. “Interesting.” You nod, ducking under his arm as you make your way toward the bathroom.

Like a lost puppy, Trent follows you there too. “And you?” He asks, eyebrows lifted curiously.

“Turn around first.” You motion with your finger for him to turn around, which he does so with zero hesitance. While changing into the shirt, you finally answer. “There’s been one guy.”

Despite the ache in his heart, he nods in understanding. “Who?”

“He’s not important. It only lasted a month, if even that.” You shrug, “you can turn around.”

He does so, doing his best not to feel the satisfaction of your words and the fact that you were wearing his clothes, not that other guys. You were still his.

“A month? Only?” He asks smugly, moving toward the sink beside you.

Grabbing the extra toothbrush and makeup remover, you glance at him through his reflection in the mirror. “Unfortunately, he just wasn’t you.” The admission held so much weight, but it was the truth.

“That’s unfortunate… for him.” Trent hums. The bathroom is filled with a comfortable silence as you go about your nightly routine, a familiar feeling forming within you.

How many nights had you two done this exact routine together? How many nights had you felt so completely at home with Trent beside you? How many nights had it not ended it an argument, rather with you laying in his arms as you both fell asleep with nothing but love in your hearts?

With a barren face, you lean against the sink, your hip being the only thing keeping you steady. “Why are we doing this? It’s been a year and a half.”

“Because it’s what’s right.” He answers honestly, “and it was a long time coming.”

You couldn’t argue with that. You’d fallen asleep dreaming about being in his arms once again. There wasn’t a singular time in which you’d wished to be with anyone but Trent.

As the two of you both make your way back to Trent’s bed, you let yourself feel the things you’d denied yourself for so long. A small smile growing on your lips when you climb into the bed and Trent pulls you into his side, tugging the covers over the two of you.

With your head resting in the crook of his neck, you inhale his scent, the smell bringing you back to when everything was perfect between the two of you. This was where you belonged.

It didn’t take long for sleep to consume you, but Trent stayed awake for a little longer. He needed the reassurance that you weren’t going anywhere, that you were here, in his arms, for good.

Then he fell asleep with a smile, and everything was okay again. Because this was what he’d longed for. Despite all the time spent apart, it all seemed worth it as long as you were with him, even if it was only momentary.

You were still his, and he as forever yours.

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. Feel free to lmk if you want tagged in any of my posts <3

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold x you #trent alexander arnold x y/n #football #liverpool fc #liverpool football club #fanfic #angst with happy ending #angst with a hopeful ending #ex’s to lovers #trent alexander x reader #trent alexander x you #trent alexander imagines

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imagines--galore · 8 months ago

Text

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Ten

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine,

A/N: This one is an absolute doozy! Be prepared for a lot of feels people! And a scene that literally popped up in my head as I wrote this. I dunno I just wanted to include it! Please excuse any mistakes I made!

"This place is huge!"

Thats it. Those were the only words Orora could think of to describe Ba Sing Se.

Once they had crossed the Inner Wall she had felt her mouth open in amazement. Rows and rows of houses, as far as the eye could see. The chatter of more then a thousand people echoing in the air as they went about their daily lives. She had never seen so many people in one place. Not even the Northern Water Tribe had this much population.

Iroh chuckled beside her, amused by her reaction. "That is an apt description for it, my dear." They had stepped onto the platform, after making sure they had their belongings with them. They were really only small packs containing objects that had some sort of sentimental value. And money of course.

"Woah!" The young waterbender breathed as she gazed around from the raised platform they were standing on. The wind played gently with her hair, prompting her to push the strands behind her ears. Iroh stood just beside her while Zuko stood on the opposite side. He hadn't said anything the entire train ride, though she knew he had been just as amazed by the sheer magnitude of the city as she was. His eyes had widened slightly. A rather subtle movement, but then again she had started to notice everything subtle about him.

Only because of her observation of him. And not because she had stared at him out of the corner of her eyes on more then one occasion.

"Now! The first thing we should do is get some clothes. After all we are no longer refugees but citizens of Ba Sing Se." Iroh stated, leading the way down the platform with the two teenagers following after him.

"I'll have to find some work to earn money for that." Orora muttered to herself, thinking back on just how little coin she had left. Iroh turned to her, frowning. "And what makes you think I will not buy clothes for you as well my young pupil?"

She stopped short, prompting Zuko to almost walk into her. Orora ignored the glare he threw in her direction as she blinked at her smiling Master.

"Y-you..." She trailed off unable to find words. Iroh's expression turned to one Orora had seem him give Zuko when comforting him. "You are my responsibility Orora, and I care for you just as much as I do my nephew."

They were standing together, the three of them, with Iroh and Orora facing one another and Zuko standing to the side. His attention had been at a nearby weapons shop but a soft sound had him turning his head to look at Orora.

She had a tight grip on the strap of her water satchel, as if to keep her hands from trembling. But that was not what caught his attention. It was the fact that for once her icy blue eyes had a warmth to them he had never seen before. And they were swimming with tears. The soft sound he had heard, was her giving a small gasp as she tried to control her emotions.

Though she was failing at it, because even as he watched, a tear escaped her eye, sliding down her cheek.

Crying people had always been a weakness of his. He had no idea how to deal with them. Crying girls was even worse. But seeing Orora cry, at something so insignificant as his Uncle buying her clothes, had him feeling equal parts awkward and..........concerned.

Laughing softly to himself, Iroh reached out to take her still trembling hand and placed a pouch of coins in it. "Why don't you go ahead and buy your clothes my dear? I'm sure we will all benefit from having a pretty young maid such as yourself as our companion eh Zuko?" That last part was directed at him, prompting the banished prince to snap out of his stupor and stare stupidly at his Uncle.

"Wh-what?" But neither Pupil nor Master heard him as Orora quickly engulfed the old man in an embrace that reminded Iroh of the ones his son would give him as a young boy.

"Thank you...........Uncle." If he was surprised at her calling him that he did not show it. Though he did show his pleasure at being called thusly by her. "Now go buy your new clothes and do something about your hair. I shall meet you both here in two hours. And you also buy anything that catches your fancy."

"Wait! Both?" Zuko barked out. Iroh nodded. "Yes both. This city can be dangerous my boy. Especially for a young lady. And though I know she can protect herself, I would much rather she have you with her. For my peace of mind." He finished giving his nephew a look that clearly said, do not argue.

Pursing his lips, Zuko gave a small nod. Though there was no pleasure in his stance as he took his own pouch of coins from Iroh. "Enjoy yourselves then."

With a cheerful wave and a wink he was off to do his own shopping.

Zuko sighed to himself, pocketing his pouch and turning to Orora who was now tear free and already looking around at the different shops on either side of them.

Good, he preferred her tear-free.

Shaking his head, he pursed his lips before speaking.

"Come on. I think we can find a shop that sells clothes for us both." He had already started to move, prompting Orora to follow him with quick steps to catch up.

While Zuko had been of the opinion that their impromptu shopping spree would be awkward, it was anything but. Orora having never been in a city before, was flitting from one stall to the next shop. Eagerly pouring over the wares the shop keepers were selling, though she didn't buy them. Zuko was left to follow after her, trying to keep up with her surprisingly fast pace.

"Would you slow down!" He finally puffed out after loosing sight of her for a good few minutes, nearly making him panic before he had caught sight of her entering a weapons shop. She turned to look at him, a slightly apologetic look on her face.

"Sorry, I'll try to slow down but I just saw these and they reminded me of the swords you had when we met in the forest." Zuko looked to where she was pointing. And indeed it was a pair of dao swords, much like the ones that had been confiscated from him a good while ago.

Apparently there was a strict rule of no bringing weapons into Ba Sing Se. However you could buy them once you were inside.

A stupid rule really.

Still he had managed to hide the dagger Uncle had given him, but the swords had to go.

"They do look the same." He agreed with her. Before he could stop her, Orora had reached out and was lifting both of the swords from the stand and holding them out for him. "Well try them out. If its a good fit then you can buy them." She suggested giving him a small smile.

Maybe it was the fact that they were back in civilization. Or perhaps it was the interaction she had had with Iroh that had resulted in her being in a pleasant mood. Whatever it was, she had no desire to ruin it by squabbling with Zuko. Besides it wasn't that difficult to be nice to him.

Zuko glanced at her briefly, before reaching out to grasp the handle of the swords. His fingers briefly brushed against Orora's prompting them both to freeze momentarily. But he quickly shook off the feeling, turning his attention to the swords.

The weight was perfect as was the balance. Obviously they were of fine craftsmanship. Feeling that familiarity one felt when picking up a weapon they knew, Zuko swung them around to test further. After a couple more swings he stopped, seemingly satisfied.

Lifting one of the swords to eye level, he stared at the blade, watching his reflection stare back. "Well? What do you think?" Tilting the blade slightly he was able to catch a glimpse of Orora as she stood behind him.

Maybe it was the familiarity of the swords, or perhaps it was the soft yet hopeful look that he caught in Orora's expression which made him give a small nod.

"They're perfect."

————————–

The next step was finding new clothes.

And as soon as they entered the shop each teenager was whisked away by an employee. Orora was guided towards the female section of the shop, while Zuko went the opposite way.

A little annoying since he was supposed to be keeping an eye on her. However he did keep a sharp ear out, in case she called out for help. He made no complaint as the shop assistant began to pull out clothes that would be perfect for someone his size. Zuko stared dismally at the various shades of browns and greens that greeted him. He missed the red, black and gold colors of his Nation. For a brief moment he wandered if he would ever get to wear them again.

The thought had a sting of bitterness running through him, prompting him to pick out the first garment the assistant showed him. And he would've bought it as it was if the Assistant hadn't insisted that he alter it to his size. Something about the shop not looking good if he sold frumpy looking clothing. It would take some time though, so Zuko marched to the entrance of the shop to sit in one of the waiting chairs.

With his arms crossed and a grumpy expression on his face, any passerby would assume he was there against his will.

While Zuko seemed to be having a miserable time, Orora was having the time of her life. She had always adored dressing up, as typically feminine as it was and while she would've preferred to dress in the blue of her Nation, she wasn't opposed to wearing green so long as it got her out of her baggy clothing. She figured she didn't have to hide the fact that she was a girl in the city so, why not go all out?

"This color would look lovely against your complexion." The assistant, who had introduced herself as Hana, placed the green fabric against her shoulder to better assess the color alongside her skin. Like any member of the Water Tribe, Orora's complexion was darker then of those around her. And given that she had been traveling under the sun for so long, it had only darkened more. The color did stand out, and the fabric was so soft.

The young waterbender hummed. "Well I have an idea in mind. If I could explain it to you, would you be able to find something for me?" Hana grinned. "Its always good to have a customer who knows exactly what they want." She praised, picking up a writing utensil and paper to write down Orora's instructions.

"What did you have in mind?" She asked, looking like a woman on a mission. Orora grinned.

————————–

Fifteen minutes later, she walked towards the waiting area with Hana beside her.

"We have everything you just asked for Orora. I just have to alter it to your measurements, but that won't take long." Hana said with a reassuring smile to which Orora nodded. "Thank you for all your help Hana. If I may ask for one small request."

So saying, she quickly darted forward grabbing Zuko by the arm, and pulling him from his chair to stand beside her. Zuko, who had been busy examining his new swords, and pretending not to eavesdrop, was more so surprised at the sudden motion that there was no resistance on his part.

"My friend and I have to be at a dinner party tonight, but we do not have a place to bath or clean up. Do you know any bath houses around here?"

There was no way she was about to wear her new clothes without cleaning herself up first. She hadn't had a chance to bathe since the desert, a thought that had her shivering in disgust. Zuko glanced at her. "Is that your subtle way of saying I stink?" He asked to which Orora smirked.

"Subtle? I must be loosing my touch. I meant it to be more direct." She grinned at him before turning her attention back to the softly laughing Hana. "Luckily for you two my brother owns a bath house. And it is not so far from here." She moved to the door, gesturing for the duo to follow. "Just go down this street then take a right. First door on the left." She instructed. "I shall have both of your clothes delivered there within the hour."

"Thank you." The ever polite Orora said, even as she poked her elbow into Zuko's stomach to remind him to do the same. He did so, albeit in a rather grumpy manner. Still it was better or nothing.

Once they had paid for their clothes, the two set off down the street as Hana had instructed.

"You know we could've cleaned up at the new place we will be staying at." Zuko suggested, to which Orora gave him a disgusted look. "Zuko, we're filthy. We've been traveling for days. If you want to wait and dirty your new clothes, go right ahead." She made a hand gesture to that effect, but s topped midway as her blue eyes caught sight of something.

Zuko followed her line of sight and groaned loudly. "I have to buy one more thing." So saying Orora quickly made her way to the display of pretty hair accessories that had caught her eye. She yanked Zuko along with her, not having dropped the hold she had on his arm where she had looped it through his earlier.

A fact that neither of the them noticed.

At least Orora wasn't like other girls who would spend hours poring over pretty trinkets only to not buy them in the end. It wasn't even ten minutes later that they were once again making their way towards the bath houses, with Orora admiring the new hair comb she had bought.

"Isn't it pretty?" She sighed, watching how the blue stone set in the middle of the comb caught the mid-morning sunlight and shimmered beautifully. "And its so detailed, just look at the dragon." She held it to his eye level. He gave it a brief once over and, reluctantly, nodded. It was a pretty piece of jewelry there was no denying that.

"I thought I should get something blue to represent my Nation." Tucking away the comb in her pouch. Glancing up she saw him clench his jaw even tighter. At this rate he would grind his teeth to dust. "Maybe you should do the same?" She suggested her voice soft as they reached the bath houses.

His gaze snapped in her direction, startled and surprised. That was certainly not what he had been expecting her to say. Glancing around from the corner of her eye, Orora met his gaze with a look of understanding. Reaching out, almost hesitantly, she grasped his wrist, stepping forward so she could whisper the next words to him. "I don't condone what they have done. But they are still your people, and I know you miss your home."

She had to lift herself up on her toes slightly to be able to whisper to him properly. The action allowed the front of her chest to press against his slightly. To any onlooker it would look to be nothing more then a lover's embrace. To Zuko, the barely there embrace, was one of comfort. Something he did not realize he had needed for so long. He closed his eyes, but only briefly, before he gave Orora a small nod. While he wouldn't voice his appreciation for her act, he could acknowledge it.

Orora smiled softly before she stepped back. Turning she quickly walked into the bath house, and after a moment Zuko followed.

————————–

Steam curled from the water as Orora stepped into the square space in a robe, having gotten rid of her clothes as soon as she could. Locking the door securely behind her, she turned her attention to the tub in the middle of the room. It was just big enough for her so she eagerly shrugged off the robe and settled into the warm water. A sigh of utter contentment fell from her lips, feeling a sense of comfort as the water surrounded her. Quickly submerging her head, the girl picked up the sweet scented soap that had been left for her and began to scrub her hair and body. The water itself had some sweet smelling oils in them, and if it were up to her, she would stay there for hours.

Once done cleaning herself, she bended the water separating whatever dirt she had scrubbed off herself. Casting the dirt aside, she allowed the water to settle back down into the tub. Orora had barely leaned back to rest her head against the back of the tub when the sound of voices from the other side of the wall had her listening in curiously.

"You can wash up here." Said an unfamiliar voice. She heard the sound of a door opening on the other side. Make sense that the room next to her was also a bathroom. "I'll leave your clothes outside the door once they arrive."

"Thank you!"

The waterbender sat up straight, water sloshing around her as a small squeak of surprise fell from her lips. A sound the echoed in the otherwise quiet space, and since the wall on her left had more then ample space between itself and the ceiling, it was clearly heard by the person who had just entered the bathing chamber on the other side.

"Orora?"

It was Zuko.

Spirits help her! Zuko was in the room next to her own.

The thought alone had a blush stealing across her cheeks, and she could feel it as it traveled down her neck to her shoulders. How that was even possible she had no idea.

"Orora is something wrong?" His voice sounded closer now, like he was standing right next to the wall. And his voice sounded urgent. Clearing her throat she shook her head, even though he couldn't see her. "No, no everything is fine." Her voice sounded strange even to her ears.

On the other side of the wall, Zuko's brief flash of panic dissipated and the reality of the situation started to set in. He blushed just as brilliantly as Orora did, a fact that was unknown to both of them.

"I'm going to ask for another chamber." Zuko stated, already moving towards the door. The sound of water reached his ears followed by a two words that made his heart stop. "No, wait." Silence followed her soft exclamation as he waited for her to continue. Finally, after a rather lengthy silence, in which Orora was berating herself for speaking out like that, she spoke. "These two were the only bath chambers available on such short notice. Not to mention they'll charge extra since they have to warm the water again and get a new chamber ready so just.............stay."

Despite her affirmation and assurance, there was no denying just how awkward the situation was. Orora could hear every splash of water as Zuko settled into his tub, and Zuko was acutely aware of the fact that she could hear everything. So he just decided to sit in the water once he had hastily scrubbed himself clean.

The one fact that neither of them were even allowing themselves to think on was the state of undress they were both in. To distract herself, Orora began to create small patterns using her water bending, while Zuko made the water as hot as possible without letting it evaporate completely.

The silence and the awkwardness of it was slowly grating at Orora's nerves. She had always hated silence, it reminded her too much of the time when she would spent all those hours in her room while her father entertained guests. Why? Because a proper young lady said her greetings before excusing herself to her rooms.

Her patience only last five minutes before she finally snapped. "I believe we have reached a whole new stage of awkwardness then." Zuko didn't respond, though her acute hearing and bending sense did pick up on the water moving. Indeed, Zuko had been a little startled at hearing her voice, having supposed that the two of them would remain quiet for the remainder of their bath.

"And since they can't get any more awkward I'm just going to come out and say something I've been thinking since we reached Ba Sing Se." More silence, and for once Zuko was sure she actually wanted him to speak, as opposed to all the times she had told him to stay quiet.

"Whats that?" His tone was soft and his voice low, matching her in almost perfect pitch as he leaned his head back against the back of the tub, looking at the ceiling above.

"I know that we have a lot of differences between us." The statement had the young prince letting out a small unexpected chuckle. "Thats putting it mildly." He interrupted her, he could practically picture her pursing her lips at being interrupted. "Well yes, but I don't want to make you any angrier then you already ar-"

"Who said I was angry?" Zuko protested, half rising from his position to glare at the wall. Clenching her fists Orora shook away her annoyance before continuing. "As I was saying, I think tha-"

"I can feel other emotions beside anger you know. I'm not angry all the time an-HEY!" His exclamation was followed by a loud splash as the bubble of water Orora had bended over the space between the wall separating them splashed on his head. As Zuko spluttered and shook his hair out of his eyes, she started again.

"I know that we have a lot of differences between us, and that we would never see eye to eye. And I'm sure not a day will go by where you do not vex me, or I annoy you in some form." Hugging her legs to her chest, the young waterbender hoped the Fire Nation prince wouldn't reject her offer of peace.

"But since we will be living together until...........well we don't know when." Zuko's heart twinged at the reminder, but he stayed quiet. "I thought we should have a truce of some kind? Where we don't fight, at least not all the time, and try to get along."

That dreaded silence once more. Though this time it was heavier, weighing down on her just as much as it weighed down on him. She heard him stand up, prompting a sigh of defeat to echo in the two rooms. She could hear him as he opened the door and took his clothes where they rested on the floor. Zuko's mind raced as he dried himself off and began to pull on his new clothes.

After a few minutes, and accepting that perhaps she had humiliated herself enough, the girl quickly stood from her bath tub, bending the water from her body. Her new clothes rested on the floor in front of her door the same as Zuko. She quickly took them inside and unwrapped the items. Despite the sorrow tugging at her heart, she gave a small smile at the sight of her new clothes.

They were perfect.

Neither of them spoke as the dressed. Though Zuko finished first, and quickly exited the chamber. Orora took a few extra minutes, adjusting her clothes properly, before moving to stand in front of the small mirror and combing her hair with her new comb. Picking up a small section of her hair from her temple, she adjusted them so that she could place the hair comb through the strands. Now with the loose unruly tendrils out of her face, she was able to see her face properly in the mirror.

Satisfied with her appearance, she exited the bath just as she finished adjusting her water satchel, and promptly bumped into Zuko who had been standing right outside her door.

Her hands came up to steady herself, which he quickly caught to keep her from falling. Whatever insult that had been about to fall from her lips vanished when she saw who she had walked into.

Ice blue eyes widened, as she took in his newly dressed state. The clothing suited him, but what caught her eye in particular was how long his hair had gotten and how the strands at the front fell over his forehead. She had to physically restrain herself from reaching out and pushing them back. Not only because she wanted to feel how soft his hair was, but also because she wanted to see his pretty gold eyes properly.

Eyes that were now taking her in. The first time Zuko had met her she had been wearing her blue parka that had been blood stained and rumpled from her run in with the Fire Nation soldiers. Other then that, he had only seen her in shapeless short kimonos and pants that were dull in color and hid the fact that she was a girl.

The outfit she wore now did not hide any aspect of her being a girl at all.

She had opted for a light green Cheong dress with no sleeves to allow her arms to move better. The shirt she wore under it had long sleeves though, sitting snugly against her skin. The sides of the dress opened starting from her hips down the entire length of the dress which stopped a few inches below her knees. The edges of the dress had a pretty swirling design to add a hint of flare to it. Underneath it she had chosen a pair of pants that was dark green, the ends of which was tucked into her new leather calf length shoes.

She had styled her clothes exactly like the fashion of her Nation, except in green and lighter in material.

It had been perfect, though the dress was still a little loose on her. So Orora had taken the green sash the garments had come tied in and wrapped it around her waist. Not only did the dress look much better, but the belt accentuated her waist and made her look almost as if her body had an hourglass shape.

And while Orora was not the most vain girl, she did like looking pretty.

And for once, after so many months, she looked, smelled and felt pretty.

And Zuko was acutely aware of all three facts as he continued to stare at her. It wasn't unnerving in any form. There was no malice in his eyes. Only an emotion that she had never seen on his face before. Which was why she was having a hard time to place it.

She could puzzle over it later, she figured as Zuko released her hands and stepped back. Blue met gold before the latter disappeared behind closed lids briefly. But once they opened, there was a determined look in them.

And Orora saw the reason for it when her eyes dropped to the hand he held out to her. A beat of silence, in which Orora felt her breath hitch in her throat and a bright smile to bloom across her face as she reached out to grasp his hand between both of her own. And this time, when blue met gold, Zuko gave a small smile back.

"Truce."

————————–

The two teenagers had barely reached their destination when Iroh suddenly appeared at their side. Holding a vase full of flowers.

"I just want our place to look nice, after all, we have a rather pretty young lady living with us, do we not?" He gave Zuko a nudge with his elbow, though his smile was directed at Orora who blushed and smiled in return.

"You look lovely my dear." He complimented, though it would seem Zuko had reverted back to his moody self as he spoke. "This city is a prison. I don't want to make a life here." He sounded so bleak and hopeless about his situation that Orora frowned.

"We don't have a choice." She kept her voice soft so that no one would overhear her. "This was the only way to ensure our survival in the long run."

Iroh, sensing his pupil's rising annoyance with his nephew, quickly spoke. "Life happens wherever you are, whether you make it or not." Without pausing for breath he continued. "Now come on, I found us some new jobs, and we start this afternoon!"

Zuko stopped short, staring in disbelief. "A job?!"

Orora snorted to herself, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, earning a glare from Zuko. Watching a Prince who had probably never worked a day in his life do an actual job?!

Oh, she was in for a treat, she thought smiling wickedly.

————————–

It came as no surprise when Iroh led them to a tea shop.

"And here I was thinking you had gotten a job at an apothecary shop." The young waterbender teased as she followed after her Master. Iroh simply grinned in reply. The two of them didn't bother to see if Zuko followed. He stood outside the shop, staring glumly at it before heaving a resigned sigh and following after his two companions.

It wasn't long before Pao, the shop owner, had handed them matching aprons and was telling them everything they needed to know about the shop. He prattled on as Orora finished tying the string behind her back.

"Argh, ridiculous." Zuko muttered under his breath, looking just as annoyed as he sounded. Orora nudged him with her elbow where she stood at his side. "Be grateful that we will have a steady income. Do you even know how hard it is to get a job in such a big city?"

He turned to glare at her. "This is humiliating. I'm not meant to be working as a servant. I'm supposed to have people working for me." He gritted through clenched teeth.

The girl gave him an unimpressed look. "Well I'm not meant to be here at all. I'm supposed to be married by now and living a miserable life." She caught sight of the surprised look that crossed his features, but continued to speak. "I wouldn't trade my current predicament for anything in the world." With that she turned her attention to the shop owner, who was still speaking with Iroh.

After a good few minutes of feeling Zuko's stare at her, she looked at him, raising her eyebrow in question. "You were supposed to get married?" His voice sounded hoarse and strange, even to his own ears. Orora nodded before giving a shrug. "It was arranged by my father. I had no say in it." She stated shortly, her eyes flashing with that iciness that served as a reminder to him to never cross her.

"Uh, does this possibly come in a larger size?" Iroh, who had been struggling to tie his apron finally spoke up. Pao gave a nod. "I have extra string in the back. Have some tea while you wait!" Before leaving he quickly poured hot tea into three cups and handed them out to his new employees.

Orora glanced down at the contents of her cup, making a face at the questionable color of the liquid. Iroh seemed to share her sentiment since he barely took a sip of it before his face contorted to one of disgust. He held the cup away from his body, as if it had done him some personal offense. "Blech! This tea is nothing more than hot leaf juice!" He declared. Zuko gave his Uncle a dead-panned look. "Uncle, that's what all tea is."

But the old man wasn't having it as he gave a look of utter disappointment and heartbreak. "How could a member of my own family say something so horrible?!" He exclaimed before a look of determination crossed his face. "We'll have to make some major changes around here."

"Well lets hope our boss doesn't fire us for taking over his shop." Orora stated softly, setting aside her cup and glancing around the bare shop.

"Though this place could do with some decorating."

Zuko groaned. Between Iroh's fanatic obsession with tea, and Orora's stubbornness to get her own way, he knew he was going to have his hands full.

————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos @violet-potter @rennysketch @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty

#zuko x y/n #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #zuko #zuko x oc #avatar the last airbender imagine #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #prince zuko #prince zuko x oc #prince zuko x y/n #prince zuko x reader #atla imagine #the thread of fate #avatar the last airbender

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until-another-one-comes · 5 months ago

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Part 3 of my serial killer! Francis AU

Regarding his backstory, Francis grew up in a really toxic, abusive environment. His dad is physically and verbally abusive towards him, often beating and dehumanising him when he’s in a bad mood. He also frequently cheats on his wife. Francis recalled seeing him with a new woman every now and then. Meanwhile his mother was caring towards him and would often shield him from his father’s abuse, which lead to her being beat up with every inch of her life while Francis watches in despair as his mother tries to protect him. Francis was also a social outcast at school. He was quiet, shy, reserved, always kept to himself and didn’t stand out in any way. Most of the kids know his dad is a horrible man and a cheater, so by extension, they see Francis as a horrible person too, so they would always bully, degrade, destroy his belongings, anything to hammer in that he’s a sub-human.

One day, Francis’s mother snapped due to the abuse she endured from her husband. While she still cares for Francis, she in turn, became psychologically abusive towards him when she’s hysterical, also seeing him as an extension of his father because they look alike. By that point, Francis was heartbroken. He had been betrayed by the one person who cared for him in his life. His mother turned against him like everyone else. During his teens, Francis’s mother died of an illness and during her funeral, Francis had the biggest mental breakdown in his entire life. This was the time he cried the loudest. Even though Francis bear some resentment towards his mother for abusing him, a part of him still loves her. After enduring so much pain, suffering and tears, Francis finally snaps. He cried so much until he felt no emotions anymore. He became an empty husk of a human he used to be. He now has a huge disdain for humans and believed nothing in the world matters.

One day, when his father was being cruel to him again, Francis in a fit of psychotic rage smashed an empty bottle against his head and killed him. Like I mentioned before, his father was his first victim. For the first time ever in his life, Francis felt a wave of euphoria he never felt before. The person who tormented him all his life was murdered by his own two hands. Francis let out a deranged laughter. The twisted euphoria of ending the life of someone he despises brought pleasure to him. Then Francis mutilated his dad’s corpse with a kitchen knife, stomped on it multiple times until his dad’s corpse was nothing but mushy remains. But after the surge of sick ecstasy, Francis went back to feeling nothing. All the sick pleasure he experienced was short lived. And Francis thought that if he can kill someone who crossed him, why not kill again to feel that rush.

Now that he killed his father, Francis can’t let himself get caught. So he hid his dad’s corpse, cleaned up and moved out of his hometown and never went back again. He got a job as a milkman and feels no joy from his work, only working to survive. To the public, Francis was a tired, polite albeit dull, uncaring milkman but on the inside he was an insane madman with a soul blackened tainted by the people who tormented him.

Whether Francis is caught and put on the death row or he got away with it all with no consequences, either way, he’ll die all alone, unloved and still a traumatised, broken man. On the verge of his deathbed, Francis doesn’t regret the lives he ended by his two hands. He’ll willingly burn in hell as the rotten man he is. He knows that despite the outcomes, he was tragically doomed. Deep down, Francis never saw himself as human. In fact, he knows he’s no different than his abusers or the doppelgängers. Even if he did care for someone, his relationship was bound to fail anyway. The bottom line is, the one person who Francis hates the most is himself. And he’ll die and be remembered as a notorious killer for years to come.

Holy shit his backstory is harrowing. Can someone save this man.

Thats honestly sad and very understandable why he became the way he is, even though that doesn't excuse his actions

#that's not my neighbor #thats not my neighbor #tnmn #anon ask #serial killer francis au #I should've tagged this some time ago #tw: violence #tw: abuse #tw: gore #ig??#ask me to tag anything else

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chiiyuuvv · 1 year ago

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• PAIRING — yechan x gn reader brief moment of jinsik and sumin

• GENRE — strangers to lovers (not really tho but you'll see the ending 👀), arcade au, kinda whiny reader, mysterious yechan.. i think that it.

• WORD COUNT — 1698 words

• AUTHOR'S NOTE — birthday note at the end ♡

MASTERLIST!

You kick some pebbles angrily as you walk down the sidewalk, the sound ringing through your ears as you stuffed your hands into your pockets, the glow up 'arcade' neon sign hanging above your head as you step into the building.

"Wheres jinsik?" You spin your head to the owner, guiding your feet to the front desk as you place two dollars on the surface. "He had plans." You exaggerate, rolling your tongue at the last word, the owner chuckling as he watches you roll your eyes.

"Wasnt he supposed to help you get that plushie?" He asks, taking the money from you as he puts it into the cash register. "YEAH HE WAS!!" you shout before calming yourself down, you didnt know how to get it without him, he was your savior. "But you could always help me right??" You bring your hands together, batting your lashes at the owner.

He chuckles again. "No can do buddy, now go have fun." He pats your head, shooing you off as you pout, finally dragging your feet to the game machines.

With a determined smile you marched to the plushie claw machine, putting a coin into the slot. You could win the toy without jinsik and when you do — which you will, you can rub it all over jinsiks face.

You were down to the last coin. Sweat drenches your face as you slam your fist on the machine, buring your head into your arm as you let out a string of curses. But you werent going to give up that easy. No, you could do it. You will do it!!!

So you stand back up, wiping some sweat from your brow as your shakey hands take the controls. You moved the claw to your desired plushie, but no something didnt feel right. The angle was wrong, the timing was wrong. Everything was wrong, until you felt a warm pair of hands place on top of yours, moving the claw to the plushie.

Your eyes widen as you look up, a boy lifelessly glancing down at you before looking back up, dropping the plush into the hole. "W-who are you??" You spin around once he lets go of your hands, looking at the boy questioningly.

"Looks like you needed some help." The boy completely ignores your question, getting the plushie and handing it to you. "Thanks?" Your eyebrows furrow as he hums, turning his heel to walk away.

"Wait!!" You follow after the mysterious boy, stopping when he finds another game to play. "Who are you??" You repeat, jumping to peek over his shoulder. But he doesnt respond, instead he groans, the bright "GAME OVER" sign flashing on the screen.

It was a game that you were pretty good at, as you place the plushie to the floor, hurriedly taking the controls to beat the game. The boy was just about to walk away when he hears the machine shout "good job," digging his hand into his pockets as he watches you turn around, sending him a smirk. You take the tickets from the slot, and hand it to him.

"For helping me?" Your statement sounded more like a question as the boy chuckles, reaching his hand out to take the tickets when you pull it back. "If, you tell me who you are."

"You really are persistent arent you?" The boy groans again, running his hand through his hair as you cross your arms. "I heard they have some pretty good prizes at the concession stand.. and they only cost 1 ticket!" You act shocked, toying with the boy.

"You could get a whole bucket of candy with 3 tick-"

"Yechan. Lee yechan." The boy, yechan, deadpans as he cuts you off, a smile forming on your lips. "Yechan? Aw, thats cute."

"Shut up." His ears went pink but you could barely tell because of the lighting. "Should we play another game?" You question, looking down the rows of machines. "I was going to play basketball.."

"Well, great lets go!" You grab his hand and run towards the machine, failing to notice how the boy started smiling.

"Whoever makes the most shots.. gets both of our tickets."

"OH YOU'RE ON!!" yechan shouts, putting his coin into the slot and grabbing a ball.

"How about this, we use all of our tickets to buy something." Yechan reasons, giving you puppy eyes.

You won the game.

"Maybe.. but what will we buy?"

"I dunno.." he looks over at the selection. "What do you like?"

"I dunno.." you repeat his tone. "I was just here for the plush." You point at the plushie, bring it up to where yechan could see. "Isnt it so cute??~" you smile, squeezing it tightly as yechan smiles back you, giggles erupting out of his chest.

"Y-yeah.." he stares at you for a little too long, your eyes locking as you finally look up at the boy. "But um.." yechan clears his throat, looking away from your gaze. "Lets just try to go to games that offer lots of tickets, that way we would have more to choose from."

"Okay.." you nod, walking around the room.

"Look!" Yechan gasps after a few minutes, hitting your shoulder lighty. "Yahh dont hit m- oh."

A wide screen displayed an animated character dancing, the multi colored arrows glowing at the bottom, signaling when to step on the button, and at what time. It was great for 2 players, and offered 25 tickets, for each person.

"We should play it."

You both say at the same time, glancing at each other then bursting out laughing. Yechans eyes glowed as he watched you run to the stand, waving him over to follow you.

"Should we go another dare?"

"Why should it matter when we are combining our tickets anyway." You reason.

"For fun," he shrugs, stepping on the buttons to choose a song, stopping when he found wave, by ateez. "Whoever wins.." he thinks to himself. "Gets bragging points." He smirks, glancing at you.

"You're on." You smirk, stretching your legs. You did extremely well with these type of games, seeing as you always won when you were younger. And with the shock on your face you'd come to realize that yechan, too, did extremely well.

Sure, bragging points wasnt that important but you had to win. Maybe it was the competitive spirt you had, or maybe you were feeling a little petty as you decide to step on yechans foot, making him miss a beat.

But the plan had backfired as you begin to loose your balance, yechans eyes widening as he protectivly wraps his arms around your waist, causing yechan to lean back as well. Everything happened in slow motion until yechan hit the floor, your body hovering his as your lips were inches away, parted from the panting.

The quiet tension thickens the room as you watch the blush spread from yechans neck to his ears, his eyes still wide as he stares at you.

"GAME OVER!!" the screen shouts, snapping you two out of your trances as you finally sit up, watching the ticket machine flash the number 0 repeatedly. "We got no tickets." You say saddly, ignoring your burning face from the few moments prior.

"At least we have the tickets from the other games." Yechan sits up too, leaning against his arms as he props himself up. "Say, where it?"

"Oh, i left them over ther- oh no." He points to the small bench, watching some little kids run away with the tickets, going straight to the concession stand. "Yechan..." you squeeze your closed fist, the angry growl leaving your mouth as the air flares from your ears.

"Haha.." yechan nervously laughs, scratching the back of his neck. "Well we can always-"

"I had fun though." Yechan swirls around his drink, rubbing the spot where you had hit him. "Yeah it was pretty fun." You nod, opening a new pack of candy.

"Ooohh gimme one." Yechan opens his mouth wide, nudging you on the shoulder as you playfully roll your eyes. "Here comes the trainn~~" you coo, dropping the small piece of candy in his mouth.

"Yayy!!" Yechan claps his eyes together, smiling widely as you laugh at him, ruffling his hair. Until someone called your name.

"You." You roll yours eyes as jinsik tries to engulf you in a hug. He pouts when you turn away from him. "Whats wrong~~?"

"You bailed out on me thats why!!" You glare at him. "For that guy." You point to the green haired boy that stood beside jinsik, looking as confused as yechan. "But-"

"No buts, go back to him." You wave him off, but sighs when jinsik tries to hug you again, this time succeeding. "So um.. is anyone going to introduce themselves??" The green haired says, stuffing his hands into his pocket.

"This is my bestie~" Jinsik pinches your cheek as you pout.

"I'm yechan." The boy speaks up.

"Sumin." The green haired boy says before looking at yechan questioningly. "I've heard your name before.. arent you in class 1B?"

"Yeah." Yechan nods his head.

"So am i.." you point to yourself, eyes widening.

"Wait we are in the same class?!" Yechan exclaims, excitedly jumping in his seat as he grabs your hands. "Oh my gosh how did i not see you??!" You wipe your eyes joking, imitating yourself crying.

"Arent we just one big happy family." Jinsik deadpans, before taking your hand again. "I gotta take you home so your mom doesnt flip."

"One second!" You say before running into yechans hold, hugging him tightly. "I'll see you tomorrow okay?" Yechan giggles, rocking you side to side. You nod excitingly, before running back to jinsik.

But little did you know, yechan knew who you were the entire time, as he stared at you from across the room since the first day of school. He thought he was being obvious but felt too shy to talk to you. That is, until he saw you struggling to get that plush, and he felt a surge of confidence rush through his body. And he doesnt regret it, not one bit.

A/n: yechann!!!!! You know, you were actually my second bias, after hunter, and while you are not that high in my list as of now, you are getting back to your former position. I see lots of videos of you as a baby or when you were in a survival show, and i just cant help but think how much you have grown up.

You were everyones little baby, and you are now everyones big baby XD

I love you so much, seriously. Have a really good day yechan ♡

#xikers #xikers fluff #xikers drabbles #xikers imagines #xikers fanfic #kpop #xikers fanfiction #xikers au #xikersau #spotify #yechan xikers #xikers yechan #lee yechan #yechan #yechan x reader #reader x yechan #xikers yechan x reader #reader x xikers yechan #Spotify

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dramatical · 4 years ago

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#i can feel me not passing the final i had on monday bc im a dumbass and i did stuff wrong #thats two failes finals in a row #good for my mental health huh #jeez #and i cant even get to study for my web dev course bc im so burnt out that nothing is registering #i am tired #i am exhausted #i make jokes to not fall in a deep state of depression bc this shit sucks and online classes are harder than i thought #or im just really fucking stupid #i think im just stupid #sigh #now im gonna nap my sadness away

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bleachification · 2 years ago

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a platonic paradox

pairing: grimmjow x reader

warnings: swearing lol thats it

summary: He loves me... he loves me not… he loves me... he... is an emotionally constipated Arrancar with less than desirable social skills and a pension for jealousy. What could possibly go wrong?

One… two… three… four… five shots later, and reality finally starts to blur at the edges. Fuzzier and fuzzier, the strobe lights turn as they cut across blackened space, glowing in feverish haste.

Maybe drinking on an empty stomach isn’t the greatest of your ideas, but no one’s coined you as a genius thus far, and you certainly never claimed to be one. Plus, you have a valid reason for knocking back a row of tequila: men. Or, more specifically, one man who goes by the name Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez—the bane of your existence and one of your closest friends. However, friend is a term you use very loosely after the earlier fight.

The mere thought of him incites another scowl from you… and a sixth shot that slides down your throat like oil in a car—smooth and familiar.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to face the person on your left—a head of ginger pops into view, only to be pushed aside by a tiny girl with an irritated yet concerned expression pasted onto her delicate features. Inoue only smiles as Rukia takes her spot next to you and inspects the row of shot glasses on the booth table in front of you.

“You need to stop,” Rukia demands.

You barely register her words over the thumping bass of the speakers. The club is a swarm of warm bodies, alcohol, pulsing lights, and wall-shaking music. Through the haze and humidity, you make out the DJ standing at the south end of the venue, directly opposite your booth.

“You worry too much.” You wave your hand, dismissing Rukia.

She tries prying the drink you just ordered from your hands but fails miserably.

“For good reason! We’re going to have to carry you home at this rate.”

Orihime pats Rukia on the shoulder in a calming manner. It doesn’t quite work, but she tries anyway. Ever the pacifist.

“I think Rukia’s trying to say that we’re worried about you. What exactly happened?”

Ichigo appears from the crowd and slides in next to his fiancé, beer in hand. “Yeah, what’s going on? You called us out without explanation and started drinking like you were on a personal mission to destroy your liver.”

“I can handle my liquor.” You roll your eyes at your friends’ questioning looks.

“Y/N,” Orihime presses.

You groan. “Fine! Fine.”

They all wait expectantly as you down another drink. Every shot turns the world one degree mistier.

“Grimmjow and I got into a fight,” you grit out. The words taste like gravel on your tongue.

The three of them exchange a look.

You frown. “What?”

“It’s just… isn’t that pretty common?” Ichigo asks.

“No. We argue, sure, but today he… went too far. He was being an asshole—more so than usual. You’d think he’d be nicer to the person who acclimated him to human society. Stupid overgrown cat,” you huff.

“What did he say?” Ichigo takes a swig of his beer.

You pause. The whole argument that led to this moment was dumb. So dumb that you can’t even remember what instigated it. All you recall is the hurt washing over you at the end—a vile, sickening sensation that festered like rot in your chest because of the words Grimmjow bit out right before you walked out the door: You’re nothing special.

In hindsight, what he said wasn’t even that awful. Yet it shredded you the moment it left his lips. Perhaps you took it so hard because you thought you were special to him—in the same way he is to you. The irritating reality is Grimmjow has grown to become one of your closest confidantes. Your best friend. To be cast aside like that… to mean nothing of importance to him… is a harsh and gutting revelation—one that sets fire to your throat and incinerates whatever affection you had left for him to absolute ash.

“Nothing of importance,” you mutter.

The others don’t pry any further, sensing you no longer want to talk about it. They’d be right; you don’t want to talk about it… you don’t even want to think about it, especially since the earlier alcohol-induced buzz has now morphed into full-on drunk goggles.

“I’m gonna go dance.” You’re already halfway across the dance floor before Rukia scrambles to catch up with you.

Orihime slides her attention over to her fiancé. “Uh. Kurosaki?”

Ichigo dials a number into his phone and brings it to his ear. “Already on it.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It is 1:58 am, and Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez has never been more miserable in his entire life. Not when he was a mindless hollow, not even when he lost to Ichigo—that orange-haired freak of nature.

No. The almighty former Espada has been reduced to a mopey mess by a mere human. And an annoying one at that.

It’s been almost five hours since Grimmjow last heard from you. Four of them he’s spent trying to convince himself you’d come back soon like you always do—with that gentle smile on your face that he’s grown disgustingly accustomed to.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Grimmjow clenches the phone in his hand and his arm jerks—almost chucking the device at the insufferable clock ticking in the corner. It is a constant reminder that you haven’t returned to him. He only stops himself from throwing the phone once he remembers how much the hunk of metal had cost him.

Stupid human inventions.

If it weren’t for the need to constantly message and call you about, well… anything really, Grimmjow would never have spent a cent on the damned thing.

The phone clatters onto the coffee table as Grimmjow resumes his prior (pitiful) position on the couch: flat on his stomach, face down, and legs draped over the edge.

Grimmjow frowns—pouts—into the cushions. Twenty minutes pass. Then thirty. Finally, a vibration cuts through the air.

Someone’s calling him.

Grimmjow jerks up and unceremoniously falls off the couch in haste to check the notification. His high hopes are immediately dashed when a familiar contact name comes into view: Prick. His shoulders slump, and he lets it ring a couple of times before lazily thumbing the screen to answer the call.

“The hell do you want?”

“Are you busy?” Ichigo’s voice is barely perceptible amidst the deafening music blaring through the phone’s speakers.

Grimmjow grimaces, pulling his ear away from the phone, then glances at the coffee table in front of him. A half-melted tub of chocolate ice cream stares back, a mocking reminder of his dramatics grief. Just above the sugary mess sits a large-screen TV—one currently playing a series of films that fit perfectly under the “romantic comedy” genre.

Grimmjow turns around and faces away from the scene. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Who do you think I am? Of course, I’m fucking busy.”

“Right… guess I’ll get Y/N home by mys—“

With keys in hand, Grimmjow is already headed out the door when he gruffly cuts Ichigo off. “Address. Now.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Tall, dark, and handsome wraps an arm around your waist as you sway to the suggestive beat.

Rukia’s long gone. You lost sight of her when the crowd drew you further into the dance floor. You don’t particularly care where the shinigami went—probably back to the booth—as the alcoholic haze clouding your mind bars you from focusing on anything but the gorgeous man next to you. He leans in, clearly interested in something other than dancing, but still asks: “Would you like to dance?”

You study his features. Short black hair sweeps over honey-brown eyes that are shadowed by long lashes. He smirks, showing off a dimple on his left cheek. He’s a looker, for sure.

Not bad at all, but nowhere near Grimmjow.

The thought jolts you. Grimmjow has nothing to do with the person beside you. So why is it that every passing second serves as a reminder of him?

You shake those useless thoughts away and plaster a lazy smile on your face. You pull the stranger towards you and wrap your arms around his neck as you move to the beat. He presses up against you, forehead on yours. His lips are millimetres from yours, and his lidded gaze glitters with desire. You welcome it.

For once, you’re lost to the dizzying heat and drunken thrills of the night, and you’re ready to get lost in the arms of a stranger—someone who, hopefully, will distract you from the man plaguing every dark corner of your mind.

A tilt of the chin brings you closer to him. He leans in, and you close your eyes, ready for a welcome distraction. But before your lips can meet, the man across from you is harshly yanked back, and a flurry of familiar voices bombards you from all directions.

You blink twice, trying to take in the scene before you.

Firstly, Grimmjow is here. He’s clutching so tightly onto your poor dance partner’s shoulder that it’s a miracle his collarbone hasn’t shattered. The guy looks terrified… and for a good reason. Grimmjow is pissed. Hell, even that would be an understatement. An air of rage so heavy you almost mistake it for spiritual pressure ripples off him in waves. His normally cavalier expression is distorted. Gone are his usual smirks or annoyed scowls. In their place sits a mask of absolute crazed, seething fury. If looks could kill, this whole club would be home to a mountain of corpses by now.

Secondly, the shouts you hear originate from Ichigo and the two girls; all three are trying to push through the crowd to make it to you and the blue-haired psychopath before you. Thanks to the dark atmosphere, overbearing music, and the fact you’re all in an isolated corner of the club, no one else seems to notice the complete disaster unfolding before your eyes.

Ichigo breaks through the sea of people and immediately hooks his arms under Grimmjow’s. It takes almost all his strength to drag the Arrancar back a metre or two.

Ichigo struggles to keep Grimmjow at bay. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’ll kill you after I get my hands on him. Fucking let go!” Grimmjow pulls free from Ichigo’s grasp and steps toward the other man.

That split second snaps you to attention, and you run to block him. In less than a second, you’re in front of the other guy and facing a murderous Grimmjow; arms spread out in a protective stance. You wobble a bit and curse yourself for getting this inebriated.

Grimmjow freezes. The look in his eyes—a strange mixture of annoyance, hurt, and unfathomable anger—makes you uneasy.

“What, pray tell, are you doing?” You mentally high-five yourself for not slurring your words. It isn’t easy in your current state.

Grimmjow scoffs. “You’re actually protecting this guy?”

Said guy peeps up with: “Look, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize you had a partner.”

You turn to him and scrunch your nose. “I am not his partner.”

Grimmjow makes a snarling sound behind you.

You whip back towards him. “And you. Are you insane?! Why the hell would you do that?”

Grimmjow shifts closer. You have to tilt your head up to glare at him. His breath fans your face as he answers.

“He put his hands on you. You think I’m just gonna let that shit slide?” He’s speaking low. Rough. Dangerous.

You open your mouth to retort, only to find yourself dangling upside down from Grimmjow’s shoulder. He just hauled you up like a sack of flour.

This bastard.

As if on instinct, you immediately start wiggling in his grasp and thumping on his back, yelling at him to put you down. The struggling only drives him to tighten his hold on you as he marches the two of you out the club doors.

“Keep doing that, and I’ll drop you.”

Bastard move.

“Put me down!” You let out a yell in irritation. Grimmjow pretends not to hear you.

From your peripheral vision, you catch sight of Rukia, followed by the other two, scrambling to catch up. Orihime apologizes profusely to the bouncer at the door for the commotion caused by the man carrying you.

“Ichigo, help!”

Ichigo only shakes his head in disappointment as Grimmjow increases his pace.

Traitor.

Maybe it’s the liquid courage. Or perhaps it’s because you’ve finally lost it, but you raise a hand and land a hard smack on Grimmjow’s ass.

He stiffens. “What the f-“

“I’ll do it again if you don’t put me down this instant, you goddamn psychopath,” you warn.

Instead of complying, he shifts you until you’re being carried in his arms bridal-style. He just cut off your accessibility to his ass. Although you can’t ponder that disappointment for too long, the realization of what he’s about to do dawns on you when he takes a slow step backward.

“Grimmjow, don’t you dare-“Your own shriek cuts you off as he rips through the air and propels you toward the sky. You can only tighten your hold on his neck and bury your face in his shoulder as biting winds whip around you at the speed of light. Despite the cool night air, Grimmjow is warm to the touch. In less than five seconds, you’re staring at the front door of his apartment.

The son of a bitch just sonido-ed you across the city.

Grimmjow finally puts you down as he fishes the keys from his pocket. The whole time he hasn’t said a single word to you.

“Why are we here?” You reluctantly follow him into the familiar unit.

He has his back turned to you. Broad shoulders hunch over as he removes his shoes. Three seconds later, he flops onto the couch while running a hand down his face, quietly letting out a sigh of exhaustion and a hint of something else.

You sit in the spot next to him and pull your legs up. You shift until you’re facing him and only inches away.

You poke him in the stomach. It’s a habit you have that Grimmjow complains about constantly, but he never actually takes any action to stop it.

“Hey. Answers. Now,” you interrogate.

He lazily peeks at you; head still lolled back on the back of the couch. Grimmjow moves and his shifting weight causes you to dip forward. Typically, you’d be able to straighten yourself up. However, drunk you has precisely zero sense of balance, so you topple right into Grimmjow’s lap.

Grimmjow almost jumps out of his skin at the unexpected contact. You feel your cheeks flame up in embarrassment as you try to push yourself back up, only to lose your balance again and fall back against him. Your face presses up against his stomach, and the heat clouds all your senses. You feel even drunker than before.

“For fucks sake.” Tired of your struggling, Grimmjow pulls you up until you’re sat in his lap and face-to-face with him. You try to ignore the fact that you’re basically straddling him. You really try to ignore his hands resting on the side of your thighs. The contact causes something within you to flare up—an unsettling feeling you push away to the furthest corner of your mind.

“Well, this is nice. We’ve reached a new level of friendship now,” you snort. Thankfully, your stable tone doesn’t betray your wavering nerves.

Grimmjow’s jaw tenses. “Right. Friendship.”

You almost reel back. He spits that last part out like it is laced with poison. A sting of disappointment shoots through you, and you move to get off him. Right now, you want to be as far away from him as possible in fear of Grimmjow seeing the tears that have begun to prick the back of your eyes.

If he hates being your friend that badly, then there’s no way he’d ever reciprocate…

“Hey. You crying?”

To your surprise, Grimmjow grabs you by the hips and pulls you back, caging his huge arms around you to prevent you from escaping. His eyebrows furrow as he leans in to examine your face. You muster up every ounce of willpower to suck the tears back into the confines of your eyelids.

“You look like a bug,” Grimmjow murmurs.

You pinch his cheek with a scowl, mind briefly wiped of your previous grievances.

“Bastard.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “You stopped crying.”

“I never started,” you retort.

He makes a noncommittal noise.

“What?”

He grunts, eyes still fixated on your own. “Trying to figure out why you ran away.”

You gape at him. He has to be kidding. Right?

“Okay, first of all, I did not run away; I left because you pissed me off. Second of all, are you serious?

Your exasperation only fuels his confusion. Grimmjow’s face scrunches, and he tilts his head only slightly, but enough to emphasize how baffled he is by this whole situation.

You falter. This whole night you have agonized over his words, never once considering that he may not find fault in what he said. Maybe he never intended to hurt you and only meant to state a fact: that you simply don’t mean anything special to him.

Do you occupy such a minuscule part of his heart? Given that he takes up all the space you have to offer in yours, it is an unnecessarily cruel twist of fate.

You steel yourself. Grimmjow is your friend. Nothing less… and certainly nothing more. He has drawn that line very clearly—in bright, irreversible red.

“Forget it. It’s nothing,” you murmur.

He shoots you a look; he doesn’t believe you. “Oi. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” you insist.

His eyes narrow, and he slowly drawls your name. Irritation coats the word like honey as he presses you for a different answer.

With a shake of your head, you cement your refusal to budge. Nothing good could come from that conversation, and you would rather suffer in silence than lose Grimmjow as a friend—which is the only outcome you can fathom.

“I… it doesn’t matter. Not like you’d care.” The last part is practically inaudible to the human ear. Unfortunately for you, Grimmjow’s senses are anything but human.

He stiffens, looking like he’d just been slapped hard. “What the fuck are you on about? Who told you that? I’ll kill ‘em.”

“No one told me Grimmjow… no one other than you, at least. It’s obvious you don’t care to be friends anymore,” you scoff and look away, too anxious to meet his eyes.

Every single muscle of Grimmjow’s goes rigid. You sneak a glance at him and pause at the storm brewing in his gaze. Tides of emotions threaten to overwhelm one another, but at the forefront of the tumultuous battle flashes an intensity you are very familiar with: desperation.

Grimmjow tips his chin down, lessening the gap between your faces… and lips. What comes out of his mouth next scarcely breaks above a whisper, but the words themselves bear a threatening weight.

“Obvious to who? Because last time I checked, you’re the only human I ever speak to willingly, the only person whose touch I don’t find repulsive, and the only one who can mouth off to me in my own damn house and not die for it. So tell me, Y/N, who is that obvious to? Because it sure as hell ain’t me,” he snarls.

You blink. That sobers you up. Any and all words dying in your throat as you take in everything. You only manage to find your voice again after a minute of deliberation.

“Then why did you say that I wasn’t special? You’re giving me mixed signals here,” you whisper.

Realization dawns on him like an iron curtain as your response dwindles in the hushed air. He shifts again. This time, switching his grip on your thigh to the curve of your waist. His hands settle firmly, yet gently, on your side, and the warmth resonates through your bloodstream, making it increasingly difficult to focus on the present situation. You try anyway.

“Is that why you ran away?”

You roll your eyes. “I didn't run.”

He shrugs. “My bad. Is that why you abandoned me?”

For a split second, Grimmjow’s sulking reminds you of a kicked puppy. A crass, six-foot-one puppy with blue fur and murderous tendencies. Your fingers twitch with an almost overwhelming desire to run them through his hair. You settle for flicking him in the forehead instead.

“Don’t be so dramatic. You’re acting like I fled the country rather than go to a club ten minutes away.” You absently brush a stray strand of his hair aside, not thinking much of it. Grimmjow, however, sucks in a sharp breath and you pause as a glint of something flits across his gaze… something intimate.

A trick of the light, surely.

“You–” Speech morphs to muffled protests as you press a hand to Grimmjow’s mouth, effectively cutting off whatever he was going to say.

“You still owe me some answers,” you remark.

“Mmm… to what?” He’s getting sleepier; the lull in his voice is a clear indication. Warmth blooms across your skin as Grimmjow droops forward and nestles his head into the crook of your shoulder, leaning into you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“How about why you ruined my perfectly good night out?” You feel his head turn, breath hot like coals against your neck. A chill shoots down your spine at the slight contact, and you ignore the tingling sensation in your stomach that feels an awful lot like butterflies—millions and millions of them.

He scowls. “What, you’re that upset over not seeing lover boy again?” His arms tighten around you, “You could’ve had a better night with me. Here. Like this.”

You draw in a sharp breath as his forehead meets yours. Space is a minuscule concept now as his face hovers mere centimetres from yours. Your mind swims with a torrent of mixed feelings and thoughts.

“Grimmjow…”

“I’m sorry.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“For what I said. I didn’t mean it—any of it. Swear on my life.” His voice is strained, as if not used to the taste of those words on his tongue.

You want to believe him, truly. But the emotional, irrational side of you forsakes that possibility.

You’re nothing special.

The knife in your heart, previously forgotten, now twists again as you recall his words. For a brief second, you wonder if it would be better to feel nothing at all. To bear an empty chest, much like the hollow hole carved into the Arrancars. Perhaps that’s what you need—to lose your heart and live as they do, void of all sensations that make up human nature.

“It’s fine, Grimmjow. You don’t… experience things like I do. It’s not your fault I got upset over such a trivial matter,” you sigh.

He pulls back, something akin to guilt and shock shuttering across his handsome face. “So I did hurt you.”

You swallow, unsure how to face this new vulnerability of his.

“Tell me how to fix this. How to fix us,” he pleads.

“There is no us,” you say. The distance between you and Grimmjow is practically nonexistent, yet you find yourself unable to face him.

“Bullshit,” he spits.

You shake your head, a migraine already forming in its center. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Grimmjow. I can never seem to understand what you want!” Your anger rises with each sentence, but you don’t stop and let the emotion fuel you, “I saw us as friends. Best friends. But then you go and act like I’m nothing to you, only to turn around and get all pissy like a fucking cat marking its territory when I dare spend my night with someone who isn’t you. So for the love of god, what do you want from me?!”

“I want you.”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

“Next to me, in my bed in the morning, in my arms. Wherever I am, whenever it is… I want you with me,” he states plainly. Too casual, acting as if he didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on you, wiping every semblance of your anger away with pure, unbridled shock.

You ignore your racing pulse and focus on the intensity of his gaze instead. “You don’t believe in romance. You told me that.”

“I didn’t believe in many things before I met you.” He presses a searing kiss to the inside of your palm before leaning into it, your touch a familiar comfort.

“Like what?”

Heaven. Home. Love, probably.

He grunts. “Secret.”

“That’s not fair,” you tease. The hope rising within you gives way to giddiness and a whole new sensation: relief.

Grimmjow wants you the same way you want him. Perhaps even more so.

“What’s not fair is being iced out for a whole day while waiting for you, only to witness that thing wrapped around you like some fucking parasite.”

“He was not a parasite.”

“Looked like one to me. Ugly. Small. Easy to step on.”

“You called me a bug earlier. Doesn’t that mean we’re meant to be?” You’re torturing him at this point. It's incredibly amusing.

Grimmjow’s eyes darken. Two slits of obsidian that burn with jealousy and something else under the surface. Something even more dangerous.

“Say that again.”

You only laugh. It is a light sound that eases the tension in both the air and Grimmjow’s shoulders. He’s missed your laugh—craves it more than a drowning man would for air.

After a few seconds longer, he inevitably feels his lips pull upwards into a crooked smile—a special kind that appears solely in your presence.

Your giggles falter into a faint smile when you notice Grimmjow smirking at you. He absently draws circles on your hip with his fingers, lazily tracing the curve of your back as you ask: “What exactly are we?”

“Dunno,” he half-mumbles, too preoccupied with snuggling into your neck.

You let out a soft chuckle as his hair tickles your cheek. “Grimmjow.”

He groans, the sound reverberating against the skin of your collarbone—the place his mouth presses against. ”Does it matter? You’re mine. I’m yours. All I care about.”

“This won’t be easy,” you say.

“Yeah, well, I signed up for you, which is anything but easy. So don’t worry,” he pulls back slightly so that you’re both face to face. “I know exactly what I’m getting myself into. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You barely register Grimmjow’s words before he leans in and roughly kisses you.

And it is the best damn kiss of your life.

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danniburgh · 4 years ago

Text

Sins of the Flesh (priest!Dave York x f!reader)

Pairing: priest!Dave York x f!reader

Summary: His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed. “Lord, have mercy on me.”

Word count: +10.9k

Warnings: religion! catholic religion to be precise, a lot A LOT of religious references and undertones (shot every time you find one lmao), age gap (around 15 years, reader is legal), smut, unprotected p in v, oral sex, breaking of celibacy vows!, catholic guilt, me making divine metaphors... i think thats it.

A/N: first of all this is all @asta-lily’s fault, she asked why no one had turned this man into a priest and i said “ok ill do it” so i did it, she is to blame. also i wanna say thanks to the pocket wives that encouraged this creation, sorry my loves, this isnt as slutty as yall thought lmao, and thanks to @alliterative-albatross who gave me all the bible verses that shaped this story as well. and i wanna thank the creator of this playlist that i listened over and over while writing this, and yeah, sorry for this monstrosity, love you <3

Masterlist // Read on ao3 // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

moodboard by @asta-lily

“So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.”–James 4:12.

Sunday 1.

Like a piece in a puzzle.

That’s how you fit in.

There, sitting in the middle of a ten people polished wood bench, eyes on the four feet tall crucified Jesus on the wall above the altar, ready for the first sermon you were to hear after coming back home.

Home. That was the name.

That church felt like home.

You were enjoying sitting there, among the children you met a couple of hours earlier when you were introduced to them as their new catechesis teacher, breathing in and out the myrrh incense burning and invading the navel and your lungs, filling them with new energy, getting them ready to feel the love that you were sure was about to pour over you.

You heard your name behind you and you turned around to see Mrs. Stevens, one of your mother’s friends waving at you from two rows behind.

“Hi, honey!” she smiled at you and immediately you reciprocated “I heard you were in town, are you staying this time?”

You drowned a chuckle inside your chest and bit your lip, nodding. Just realizing you even had missed the venomous messages hidden behind the kind words mouthed by old catholic moms.

“Yes, Mrs. Stevens, I’m staying this time.” you replied, the woman lifted her hand a bit to the sky and you smirked to her.

“God bless, I bet your mom is delighted you’re here!” she muttered “I know she missed you terribly all those years you were in that school.”

“It’s called college, Mrs. Stevens,” you reminded the woman, and she rolled her eyes, making you chuckle softly again “but do not worry for my mama anymore, I graduated, I’m staying for good.” you told her, amused at the way she acted as if you staying at home was some godsend blessing.

The organ began to play on the upper balcony behind everyone and you saw two altar boys, carbon copy of each other, almost rushing their way to the altar, and behind them… Father Dave.

You smiled softly at the sight of him as he walked solemnly to the altar, his green chasuble flowing with the air and the movement, there was a thought you had all those years you were away from home because of school, always coming back to Father Dave York: the young priest that decided to stay in the first congregation he was sent to, the one that became a pillar to the community, the holy man that held the direct link to God and that gave you your first communion, the one you missed when you went to attend mass at the church near campus because no one gave the sermons like he did. For some reason, whenever you least expected, you thought of him.

You saw him putting his bible on top of the pressed cloth over the altar, kneel and kiss the center of it and cross himself. And then, after he closed his eyes and muttered a prayer to himself and to God, he opened his deep brown eyes and he looked at you.

“Let us pray.”

Your mouth dried when his deep timbered voice, with the help of a small microphone on his altar, wrapped the entire navel and you with it, he looked at you as he cleared his throat and he opened his arms to the sky, breaking eye contact with you.

“Lord, have mercy.” he murmured, and the congregation replied to his prayer as you struggled to find the air that had escaped your lungs.

As Father Dave guided the congregation through the sermon and through the prayers, all you could see was him.

In some way, there was something different about him you hadn’t noticed the last time you were there; you didn’t know if it was something about his deep voice as he recited the credo by muscle memory, the way he walked from one side of the sanctuarium to the other as he talked about the scripture or the way his hands wrapped around the chalice when one of the altar boys handed it to him as the organ echoed all around the navel, announcing the communion.

You stood up and walked to the back of the line and sighed as he lifted the wafer to the sky, and your eyes closed by themselves when he lifted the chalice and took a sip from the sacramental wine and locked your eyes on him as the line moved.

As soon as you were in front of him your lips parted and he smiled at you softly.

“The body of Christ.” he murmured, his deep brown eyes on yours as they filled with tears.

“Amen” and you opened your mouth.

He put the wined wafer between your lips and his thumb brushed with your chin, making your skin burn as you brought it inside of your mouth with your tongue and forced yourself to walk away from him.

As you returned to your seat with the gold cross that hung from your neck between your fingers and kneeled to pray for the forgiving of your sins, all you could think of was brown, deep eyes, and a soft, brief touch on your chin that burned more than the wax of a burning taper.

Dave felt it.

The way you looked at him throughout the entire service.

And it made him feel different.

When you rose from your seat to walk to the communion line, he saw the way your body moved, almost as if you were floating instead of walking.

He knew you were back, and his heart was happy you were finally home.

But he didn’t expect to see you so changed.

And he didn’t expect the way your eyes had made him feel.

Then you were in front of him, and he smiled because he remembered the first time he handed the body of Christ to you, years and years before.

And your eyes filled with tears as his breath hitched when your lips parted for him as he fed you the sacred soul of the savior.

God, have mercy.

His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed.

Lord, have mercy on me. He thought as he entered the sacristy.

“Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.”–Proverbs 28:13.

Sunday 2.

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” Dave heard your voice next to him and felt the air leave from his lungs. Not you, please God, not you.

You had been avoiding Father Dave for almost the entire week.

And you felt guilty about it.

You couldn’t even look at him in the eyes and not think about those dreams you were having about him.

If God was all love and perfection, why was he tempting you with dreams of Father Dave, his own servant, touching you in places you got shivers from, warming your body with his own, putting his mouth on your skin as you repeated his name like it was the sanctus?

Holy, holy, holy.

Why was God putting inside your head the sins of the flesh you had already asked forgiveness for? Why was he making you desire a forbidden man? A man that was not to be perceived as a man but as the representation of him on earth.

That morning, when you walked into the church to impart the catechesis class, you saw Jesus on the cross and you saw him look at you. And you knew he knew.

All omnipresent, all omniscient, all omnipotent.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Almighty God why were you thinking about him so much?

And the resolution in your mind was asking for forgiveness, you needed to pay penitence for those thoughts you knew you did.

But were you really about to confess to the man you had been dreaming about that he was invading your every thought?

“It has been two weeks since my last confession.” you mumbled, playing with your cross over your neck, Dave breathed in deeply and intertwined his hands on his lap.

“What are your sins?” he asked, closing his eyes as he remembered his own.

Dave was always a man of faith. It was in him from birth. He had been taught and trained to not fall into any temptations and so far his life had been devoted and dedicated to God and only to God.

But your eyes and the way you saw him, and the way your eyes made him feel when they locked on his, had him spiraling down into decadence.

Sometimes, dedicating his life to the word of the Lord made him forget he was still a human, he was still a man.

He had needs.

And he was alright before your eyes. Before your holy eyes were on him.

He had dreamed of them; he had thought of them; he had imagined them when he was in the limbo between sleep and awakeness.

He had dreamed of your lips, of your lips on his skin, he had thought of those lips that just looked like they needed someone to wet them and bring them back to life; he had imagined those lips of yours in places of his body he swore never to use.

He had prayed for them to disappear; he had begged to his God to erase those thoughts of his mind and free them from the temptation that was incarnated in you, in your body, in your eyes that denied to see him when you were in the same room, in your hands as you moved them to teach the children, in your legs trapped in the tight denim of your jeans, in your lips as you smiled to everyone but him, in your entire being, just by existing.

But they had increased, like a tamed flame sprayed with gasoline. He had a fire in his chest, one that was spreading through him as he was closer to you.

He needed them gone; he had sworn to never look at a woman as an object of desire; he had sworn on his life and he had vowed his commitment.

But you were there, kneeling next to him, separated by the thinnest patterned panel, holding the matches and the fuel.

“I’ve been having… improper thoughts, father,” you whispered, closing your eyes and left your necklace alone, clutching your hands together as tight as you could, you felt the aura change and the air grow thicker between him and you, “about a man.”

Dave opened his eyes at your confession and frowned. A man?

He knew you could tell him whatever you wanted; he knew he wasn’t allowed to ask in for details; he knew he was only there functioning as a link for you to get absolved from your sins and you were a young woman granted of free will and enough time to ask for absolution but he wanted to know; he needed to know who that man was.

“He is ol–older than me,” he heard you mumble and his hands tightened their grip on each other “and I can’t have him, father, I–I’ve been having these thoughts about a forbidden man.”

Dave’s mind went reeling, and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t like to assume about the life of his congregation members, he never did, but you were talking to him, after he had been dreaming about you for days, after you two shared something about desiring another man. And he was angry. He wanted to know who. He wanted to know who was keeping your mind the same way you were keeping his.

“He keeps me up at night, thinking of him, that is,” you whispered “I’ve–Jesus,” you let out the air of your lungs and Dave breathed in deeply once more “I’ve touched myself thinking of him.” you said under your breath and Dave felt his chest tug and turn.

“Does this man… know what he is causing in you?” he muttered with a frown and heard you sigh.

“No, I don’t want him to.”

“Alright, child,” he replied after a few seconds, and made a grimace of disgust at the pet name. It felt wrong, and he felt dirty with the word on his mouth, “do you repent these sins?”

“Yes, father, I do.” you closed your eyes at his words and wanted, for once, to be brave and tell him he was the one roaming around your mind. But it wasn’t fair.

“Please, recite in silence the act of contrition,” he muttered to you and you obeyed, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

As he waited for you to finish, he did the same on his side of the confession box

I’m choosing to sin and failing to do good.

“Amen.” you said, and he murmured the word to the ceiling.

“I think the word you do for the church,” he started, and you wrinkled your nose at the thought of him knowing it was you “the devotion you have, and how you repent, you don’t need to pay penance,” he muttered separating his hands and putting two fingers on the edge of the patterned panel that separated the two of you “through the ministry of the church,” your breath hitched as he whispered the words to you, and you saw with teary eyes the shadow of his fingers on the panel “man God give you pardon and peace,” you bit your lip and unclutched your hands, lifting your fingers and pressing it to his as two heavy tears fell from your eyes.

Dave felt the pressure of your touch and felt his hand tremble.

“And I ab–absolve you from your sin.” he said under his breath, pressing back.

“Thank you, father.” you whispered, not moving your fingers. You could feel the warmth of his through it and for a few seconds, you could also feel his eyes on your face.

Dave was the one to break the contact first. Absentmindedly brushing his fingers on his stole as he saw the shadow of you move and get out of the confession box.

He sat there, thankful you were the only one that morning and thinking about what you had told him.

A man of God, a man of hope. He had hoped, even if it was a sin and even if it was forbidden by pure creed and vow, that you were feeling the same as he was.

For a moment, he wondered about those thoughts… Were you thinking about that lucky old man touching you? Were you thinking about that man kissing you? What did that man look like? He wanted to be that man; he wanted to be the one whose touch you desired; he wanted to be that man you thought of as you sneaked your hand inside your underwear at night and brought yourself to pleasure. He wanted to be the one whose kiss you yearned for as your sex ached for attention; he wanted to be the one whose fingers you imagined as your own were buried deep inside you.

He fisted the flesh of his thigh over his dress pants and forced himself to stop thinking of you like that.

Dave stayed inside the confession box for twenty minutes more, praying for forgiveness, as he had done every night since you had been back.

At service, he saw you further back on the benches and he tried not to sneak glances at you as you sat there with your precious eyes on the crucifix above him, avoiding him at all costs.

And at communion, he tried not to brush your soft skin with his fingers as he fed you the wined wafer, failing when his knuckle brushed your cheek, his chest deflating when he noticed the way your face quirked in pain when you muttered Amen at him. Dave tried not to make anything of the fact that you kneeled more time than anyone else on the congregation after receiving the communion.

And when the service was over and he was alone in the sacristy, he tried and failed to not think about your skin, your eyes, your hands and your lips all over his neglected body.

That sunday night Father Dave masturbated in the shower thinking about you with your fingers deep inside you as his mind imagined it was him you thought of when you touched yourself in the darkness of the night and prayed for forgiveness.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that.

“Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul.”–1 Peter 2:11.

Sunday 3.

“Father, sh–shit,” you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning as your pointer and middle fingers circled your wet clit under the covers of your bed, your legs spread open, the soft cotton of the sheets grazing softly at your inner thighs as you imagined your fingers being one of Father Dave’s, as you imagined him next to you, with his arm above your head as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear and nibbled at your neck while his other hand played your clit like a master pianist. You imagined the hardness of his erection pressing patiently on the skin of your hip, wetting it with pre-semen, making your body burn with the feeling of his warm naked body beside you.

As your other hand played with your nipple you imagined his eyes taking you in, you imagined his lips on your skin, were they soft? you bet they were, and you bet as well his hand would be surprisingly rough for a priest.

“Jesus, fu–fuck.” the knot inside your lower belly exploded with the thought of him and his hand and his body and his lips and his priesthood and you came with a silent scream that made your ears ring for a few seconds and your legs tremble on the bed.

As you hazed out, ready to fall asleep again before your alarm went off to go to work at the church, you felt that familiar guilt cripple inside you and settle in your chest, warming up and leaning against your heart.

Dave was panting, he fisted his hand as he leaned on the tiled wall of his shower and his other hand moved desperately on his cock. The water was still warm, and he closed his eyes shut as he imagined it was your hand on him, giving him the pleasure he was seeking, as he imagined you were behind him, your lips brushing against the wet skin of his back, your free hand around his chest, gliding softly at his skin, making him whimper with your touch.

It was so early for him to be so hot over you again; it wasn’t good for him to give into these desires he had and had been praying so hard and so much to get rid of.

He didn't want to keep doing it and he surely didn’t feel good after it, but his body ached for you, his chest turned every time he thought about you, every time he saw you around the church, he felt the deepest, hottest desire for you and your hands and your body and he just couldn’t help it.

His hand gripped and pumped as fast as he could and he came with a silent groan, opening his eyes as he finished milking every drop of his seed and watched it mix with the shower water and go down the drain. Along with the decency and morality that was left inside him.

You heard your name being said, and you turned around as you finished picking up your things from the small desk you used to teach the catechism; you saw Mrs. Vega, the church custodian, a small, old lady that had known you forever, walking towards you.

“I’m sorry dear, but I want to ask you for something.” she said when you smiled at her.

“Of course, Mrs. Vega, what is it?” you put your small book inside your bag and hung it from your shoulders.

“You see, the little twins that help Father Dave are sick today,” you frowned at the mention of Father’s Dave name but let out a sad sigh at her statement, “and they can’t come help with the service, you’re the youngest of the teachers, could you do it?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and felt your stomach churn inside you at the thought of standing next to the altar for a whole service.

“Me?” you asked, your voice in a high pitch as Mrs. Vega reached for your arm and tugged you to walk out of the chapel and into the navel of the church.

“Yes, dear, remember only the youngest get to do it.” she obviated, pulling you with her to the transept and up two steps to the sanctuarium “you only need to hand him the communion things and the holy water, I will prepare everything for you.”

“Why don’t you do it?” you asked in a whisper, not daring to take a step further closer to the altar. Mrs. Vega turned to look at you, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Since when are you shy, girl?” she asked with a teasing smile “I remember you singing in that kiddie choir we used to have and doing it terribly,” you chuckled at the memory and bit your lip “it’s only until the boys get that bug they got out of them.” she palmed your arm, and you breathed in deeply.

You looked up at the crucified Jesus above the altar and silently begged him for anticipated forgiveness.

Dave almost cursed when he saw you standing next to the altar as he walked across the navel.

The thought of who would replace Bobby and Chris on their altar duties didn’t even cross his mind as he was more worried about praying for the boys and sending them some sweets and pleading for the cleansing of his soul after the incident on his shower earlier that morning.

As he stepped up to the sanctuarium your eyes locked on his and he noticed you lips parting when he nodded his chin once at you, he noticed the way you swallowed as you nodded back and for a brief second, his imagination ran wild and made him believe you felt the same way as he did about you.

Even if it was the wrongest thing to think about.

It was like torture.

An hour of torture.

You got to see him kneel behind the altar and kiss the white pressed cloth softly as he stood, as you wanted and wished to be the altar’s cloth he pressed his plump lips on, he crossed himself and you mimicked his movements. And for a brief fraction of a second, as he opened his arms to the sky, you saw him looking at you out of the corner of his eye. And his eyes burned in your skin, they made you feel like your chest was aflame.

The communion time arrived, and he turned to you as you grabbed the chalice with the wine, his eyes locked with yours and you felt them weigh heavy on your body.

Dave couldn't concentrate, he felt on his side the way you were looking at him. It was heavily distracting for him to have you there, in his space, so close to him.

His hands brushed yours when he took the chalice from you and he stood there for less than a second, his fingers on yours. His soft touch and warm skin made your lips tremble with the emotion that touching him gave you. You felt a shiver go up and down your spine and the small hairs of your nape rose as his hands trapped yours.

You caught your lip between your teeth as he broke the contact and you knew he noticed; he looked at your lip as you bit it, and you blushed under his and God’s gaze.

You watched him and he felt you observing him as he prepared the wafers and wined them inside the chalice.

Your throat knotted when he lifted the cup to the sky and you felt your mouth dry as he brought the rim to his lip and his neck strained while he took a sip of the sacramental wine.

Because of the closeness you could see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed the wine, you noticed a small drop of the crimson red liquid escape from his lips and the way he trapped it with his tongue settled deep inside your belly and leaked through your sex.

The pain of the greatest guilt you’ve ever felt in your short life appeared again and clawed its way inside your chest and to its now usual spot right next to your heart, you were struggling to keep your thoughts at bay; you were looking at Father Dave, right in front of you, doing what he dedicated his life to, and you were imagining him using his hands on your body instead of handling the instruments of the church.

Would he touch you like that? would he treat you with the same delicacy as he treated the body of Christ? would he caress you as softly as he did the chalice? would his mouth be warmed with your taste as it was by the wine he drank?

Dave turned to you and he saw you clutching your hands together, you walked towards him slowly, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you moved, almost as if air went through you, as if instead of giving steps your feet barely touched the floor because you were floating.

Everything slowed down, the music of the organ in the balcony, the prayers of the congregation, even the way he moved slowed down so he could focus on your face; on your sweet eyes, those that had brought into him the feeling of humanity, on your soft skin that had scorched his hand when he dared brushed his fingers on it, on your lips, those lips that he couldn’t pray out of his head.

He lifted his hand with the wined wafer, and even the way those holy lips of yours parted was slowed down.

Your eyes connected with his and Dave felt it in his body, deep inside his stomach, the temptation, the whispers of his mortal body as it reacted to your actions; he put the wafer between your lips delicately and pushed it inside your mouth, and then, as if by the grace of God in the heavens, you closed your mouth while he did it, and your lips wrapped softly around the pad of his finger as he pulled them away from you.

And just like that, the world started moving at its usual pace.

His skin tasted sweet. And you spent the rest of the service thinking about what other parts of him would taste like that.

Would his neck taste the same if you kissed it? would his chest feel like that if you nibbled on it? would his lips be that warm or would they be warmer?

Dave’s finger was burning.

He wanted to chop it off his hand just to stop feeling that flesh-eating guilt of enjoying your lips, your soft, warm lips around it, touching his skin, wetting it with the slick of your mouth.

After the service ended and Dave blessed the congregation, he saw you rush to the exit and he felt the sting of the guilt and the sadness. He wanted to talk to you and offer his apologies before you went home.

Sunday 4.

You weren’t there.

And Dave missed your eyes on him.

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”–Romans 12:1.

Sunday 5.

As soon as you walked into the church you felt the eyes of all omnipresent beings on your body. As if the desire that burned deep inside your body left marks all over your skin, that could be visible for all those that looked carefully enough.

You heard your name behind you and jumped slightly, startled. You turned around and felt your blood fall to your feet.

“Father Dave,” you muttered, more to help yourself acknowledge the fact that there he was, standing in front of you, out of habit, his white tab collar was the only piece of his attire that hinted the fact that he was a priest. You tried to control your body as you felt instantly that flame inside your chest beginning to spread.

“You weren’t here last week,” he said, hesitating to step closer to you “are you okay?”

You nodded a few times and bit your lip to stop it from trembling.

“Are you sure?” Father Dave asked, and you dropped your eyes to the floor and saw him give a couple of steps towards you, your breath hitched and your entire body began to shiver when you felt his hand on your arm “I’m sorry.” he whispered.

“What?” you looked up to see him and you could notice his pained quirk, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed and his lips… those lips you had spent all but two weeks imagining printing themselves and making marks on your skin, on a sad, downwards line.

“Can I please talk to you?” he said again in a whisper and you opened your mouth to reply, but only air came out, “please?”

His deep brown eyes were on yours and you felt your chest turn by the feeling of having him so close. You nodded, and he turned to the sides, as if he was making sure there was no one there, and guided you to the sacristy.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a bit altered when he opened the door and let you in first, followed you and closed the door behind him.

“I just needed to be alone with you for a minute,” he clarified, you let your eyes wander around the small space where he got ready every day for the services instead of letting them settle on him, because you knew being that close to him wouldn’t help your situation at all “I wanted to apologize.”

You frowned and looked at him. He had his back almost glued to the door and his hands together, his thumbs fidgeting with each other.

“Apologize for what?” you muttered, and he sighed.

“I’m–I make you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry.”

Dave felt stupid telling you that, but it was his truth; he spent every free moment of his days when you weren’t near him thinking maybe it was because of him. It would make sense, that you didn’t want to be there because you didn’t like his closeness, that you didn’t want to be there because he was taking advantage of his position to steal glances and give furtive touches.

He understood, but you were an excellent woman, devoted and committed to the congregation, and he knew he needed to stop or you would leave and he would never see you again. And he couldn’t have that.

“You aren–you…” you babbled, and then the look he gave you made you lose your words.

His eyes were all over you. And you could feel them on your skin, how they took you in, how they navigated through your body and every inch of you was immediately on fire.

Then he looked at your face and you swore you could see in his brown eyes the deepest form of devotion there was. And your mouth was agape and your eyes filled with tears and suddenly he was in front of you and his hands were orbiting your face.

“Can I touch you?” he said, and you nodded.

He cupped your face, and you felt his warm, rough hands scorching your skin as you closed your eyes. His warmth started mixing with your own and you could feel him inside you already. It was as if everything you needed in life was already there.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” you whispered, closing your eyes as his fingers started caressing the skin of your face, tracing your features “I swear you don’t”

Dave let out a sigh when his thumb traced the edge of your lips and he so wanted to lean down and take them in his. There had been so long since he last kissed someone and he, for a split second, forgot everything about him and the only thought in his mind was you.

“I don’t?” he asked under his breath as a tear rolled down your cheek and he brushed it off with his knuckles, you shook your head and opened your eyes and he felt his heart fill with the purest love he had ever felt in his life “you swear?” you curled your lips up and nodded twice.

“Can I tell you something?” you muttered, looking up at him and losing yourself in the depths of his brown eyes.

“Always.”

You allowed your hands to slide to his shoulders and you let out a relieved sigh. They fit perfectly.

“Yo–you are…” he nodded his chin, his hands still cupping your face softly as his eyes studied your face, you let out a trembling sigh and grabbed as much courage as you had left within you “you are the man I’ve been thinking of all this time.”

Dave widened his eyes and the movements of his hands stopped, he looked at you, searching for any hint of mischief or lie, searching for something that could tell him you were lying, that you were playing with him. But there was none.

“That’s why I wasn’t here last week,” he heard you say as he felt his heart burn with the flames of his desire and love “I was embarrassed after what happened at the communion.”

You looked at him for a second, waiting for the rejection, waiting for him to tell you what you already know, that he can’t for you what you wanted him to be, that he can’t give you what you wanted as his duty was with God and not with the mortals, let alone with a woman.

Father Dave had resigned to the pleasures of the mundane world; you knew that, but you also knew he deserved to know, even if nothing would happen.

“Am I?” he asked you, bewildered after such confession, you nodded and moved your hands to cup his face, a gesture that made him close his eyes. You wondered when was the last time, if ever, he had been touched like that “we can’t” he replied, opening his eyes and leaning in to you.

You could feel his breathing mixing with yours as the implications of his words fell on you.

“We can’t” he repeated, pushing his forehead to yours as you trembled under his touch.

“You want to?” you asked him and Dave asked for guidance in his mind as you started crying and wetting his hands. He nodded, and you sobbed.

“I can’t” he whispered, and you shook your head as he looked at you pouring your feelings from your eyes.

“Kiss me.” you pleaded, looking into his brown, deep eyes. Making him frown.

“What?”

“If you’re not gonna give me anything, at least kiss me.”

His face quirked from confusion to pain in an instant, and you gripped the hold on his face.

“Please, Dave.”

Dave sighed at the way you whispered his name without calling him a father, and deep inside him he was grateful. With you he didn’t feel like a man of god, with you, letting him touch you and touching him back, he only felt like a man. Like the man he never got the chance to be.

“I–I” he started, and you shook your head. Dave looked into your eyes and all the air he had stored in his lungs left his body in a hurry, you were the most precious being he had ever seen, and for a second, he wanted nothing but to make worth the fact he had you in his hands “shit.” he said under his breath.

Dave brought your face up to him and printed his lips on yours, stealing the little air and the close to no coherence you still had in you. You let out a soft moan out of the surprise and out of the feeling of your entire body warming up to his temperature.

His lips were as soft and as wars and better than you had imagined, they were a bit dry and hesitant on yours, but the contact of them with yours made you feel like you were floating away from the realm of the living.

Dave didn’t want to stop kissing you. He didn’t remember the last time he had kissed a woman, and in that moment he wasn’t kissing any woman he was kissing you; the precious being that had been in his mind for weeks and that had never left.

Unsure of his movements, he let you take control of the contact and soon enough you were sliding the tip of your tongue along the seam of his lips, Dave let out a surprised grunt and opened his mouth slightly of you, and you took his lower lip with your mouth. And he let you kiss him all you wanted, enjoying the contact of your slow, wet, warm lips on his less experienced ones until he was sure his lungs were screaming from the lack of air.

When he broke the kiss, he left a small one on your forehead and pressed his lips there and you closed your eyes to feel him settle inside you

“I’m sorry.” you whispered to his neck. And he nodded slightly.

“Me too.”

“But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”–Matthew 5:28.

Sunday 6.

Your knuckles grazed softly with the sacristy door and you heard the muffled noise of the latch and the door opened.

“Hi,” you smiled and Dave looked at you up and down “got your text.”

“Come in.” he motioned his hand for you to hurry and you turned your head to both sides and walked into the sacristy, closed the door behind you and slid the latch.

Immediately after the door was locked, you felt his hands on your waist and his chin on your shoulder.

“This is why you texted me?” you teased and he moved to let a kiss on your jaw.

“I missed you.” he muttered and turned your body around for you to face him.

“You didn’t.” you smiled at him and wrapped your hands around his neck, grateful for the apparently deliberate choice of him to take off his tab collar.

“Yes, I did, I missed you all day.” Dave leaned towards you and took your lips in his, already knowing, after less than a week’s practice, how you loved being kissed.

His lips were as warm as they always were, his tongue barely present if not just to taste the sweetness of your lipstick, his hands always steady on your waist, and at the end, his forehead on yours, just taking in your breaths with his.

“Mass starts soon.” you said, and he nodded, sliding his hands to your middle back to wrap you closer to him.

“I know.” he left another brief kiss on your lips.

“You gotta get dressed.” you murmured against his lips.

“I know.” he muttered back and kissed you again.

“Want me to help?” you asked under your breath, just for him, as if you saying it as low as you could would stop God from listening.

“Yes, I would love that.” Dave replied and gave into another deep kiss that stole both your breath and made you want to stop the time so you could kiss until your lips fused together.

“C’mon you need to get ready.” you broke the kiss and stepped away from him, making him smile. You wandered around the sacristy and found his tab collar. You sighed and took it in your hands.

Dave looked at you and noticed the way you looked at the soft plastic piece, he walked towards you and raised his hand to grab yours. As you felt his hand on yours; you turned your head to look at him and smiled softly, and you moved your hands, raising them to carefully lift the collar of his shirt and clasp the piece around his neck.

“You okay?” he asked in a whisper, you nodded and bit your lip at the sight of him in front of you.

Dave moved and walked to the small table against a wall with a large bowl of water and you gazed at him as he washed his hands and whispered a few words. You leaned onto the wall just looking at him go to a small cabinet near the opposite corner and took a white, folded linen garment, which he unfolded and you recognized as the long robe he used under all his attire.

He slid it off and whispered another prayer again as he let it fall and graze his ankles. His eyes went to you and you smiled at him, he next grabbed a green square that you also recognized and you walked to him and took it out of his hands.

“Let me do it” you whispered, and he nodded, you unfolded the long stripe that was the stole and found its middle, Dave crouched a bit to help you and you let it fall around his neck over his shoulders.

“Return to me the stole of immortality,” he whispered, looking at your eyes, your throat dried at the deepness of his voice “which I have lost in the sin of my first parent and although I, unworthy,” he continued and took your hand in his “approach thy sacred mystery grant to me everlasting joy.”

You gripped his hands and felt your throat knotting around itself.

“Why are you praying to me?” you asked under your breath. He cupped your chin with one hand and brought you close to his face.

“You’re holy.” he whispered and left a soft kiss on your lips.

“Stop it.” you chastised him and he shook his head, giving you a soft smile that you reciprocated immediately.

You turned to the table and saw a long, golden cord and you took it.

“Not that one.” he muttered, and you frowned.

“Why not?” you saw him taking a deep breath as he took it from your hand and left it back on the table.

“The cincture… it means chastity and continence.” he replied under his breath and you let out all the air of your lungs as he took his chasuble and put it on without looking at you.

“Dave.” you called, and he lifted a hand to you as he said the last prayer. When he finished, he looked at you and as if he read your mind, he smiled at you and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered, taking you again in his hands and pulling softly so your head rested on his shoulders “don’t apologize please.”

“I need to,” you mumbled against the light fabric of the green chasuble “I’m keeping you from your vow.”

Dave grabbed your shoulders and pulled you away from his body, his hands slid to your face and you gripped his wrists as he brought your face to his.

“You’re not doing anything, my love,” he muttered the last words directly on your lips as he stole a few kisses from your trembling mouth “you’re perfect,” he panted out and you shook your head “I’m doing this because I want to, please understand it,” he kissed you again, a bit more desperately “you’re the most divine creation I’ve ever laid my eyes and hands upon,” he whispered rapidly on your lips “and I want you to be mine.”

You gasped as the words left his mouth, and he gazed at you.

“Dave...” you started, but he didn’t let you finish, he wrapped his arms around you and brought your body to his, tightening the embrace as he thought of the implications of what he just asked.

Dave lifted his eyes to the ceiling and for the first time in years, with you slowly wrapping your arms around his waist, exactly over the place the cincture was supposed to go around, and the sweet aroma of your perfume inundating his senses, he felt really close to heaven.

“I want you to be mine too.” you whispered into his ear, and he smiled, leaving a kiss on top of your head.

“How beautiful and pleasant you are, O loved one, with all your delights!”–Song of Solomon 7:6.

Sunday 7.

You stirred on your seat again, the organ was playing the latest song before Dave would bless the congregation and wrap up the service and you were nervous.

You glanced at the crucified Jesus above him and you felt his eyes on yours; you felt him shove his holy hand on your chest and as the last notes of the song inundated the navel, you felt your throat sting with the green tint of your deep guilt, but at the same time, the rest of your body drown with the red warmth of your love and desire for Dave.

Is it worth it? you heard inside your head and your immediate response was yes.

Eternal damnation in exchange for a few hours of love. It was condemnedly worth it.

The service was over and you stood up with the rest of the congregation; you talked with a few people on your way out of the church and slowly and patiently you waited for everyone to disperse.

You walked around the gardens outside the church and slid between the gate that marked the beginning of Dave’s small house inside the church grounds. You rummaged around your small bag and pulled out the key he had given you earlier and with nervousness and the familiar guilt settled next to your heart; you let yourself into his house.

You turned on the lights. The space wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small and everything around smelled like him. For a priest’s home, the place lacked religious imagery, and you automatically chastised yourself for thinking about his priesthood again.

You sat on the loveseat next to the door as you waited for him and got dragged inside your head again; you talked about doing that throughout the week and you had agreed it was something you both wanted. But your head sent you through an unwanted train of thought and you sat there, thinking about the future. Something you hadn’t talked about.

After all, he would still be a priest and you would still be a young member of his congregation. You could spend time with him and let you love him and let him love you as much as you two wanted, but in the future… what else was there for you?

You could never ask him to leave his habit for you, you could never ask him to leave his life for you, you could never do something like that to him. But you were unsure if something like that had any other path but failure.

The door opened and there he was, unclasping his tab collar and dropping it on the end table as you rose from your seat and walked to him. He smiled at you and his hands found his place on your waist.

“You’re here.” he said, not surprised but relieved.

As he took off his attire in the sacristy and walked to his house from the church, he had a few minutes to think about what he was about to do. He didn’t allow himself to overthink it because if there was something he knew was that he wanted it; he wanted it more than he had wanted anything in his life. He couldn’t explain it even if he tried, but he knew there was something about you that made him feel human, there was something about you that made him feel like he belonged somewhere, maybe the way you talked to him, maybe the way you kissed him, maybe the way you always seemed to understand the moral and spiritual dilemma he was in. He didn’t know, but he knew that he loved you, even if he wasn’t supposed to, even when he wasn’t allowed.

And as he thought of it, love was one of the laws of the God he represented, and he felt it deeply.

“I’m here.” he pulled you to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded.

“Thank you.” you closed your eyes and bit your lip, shaking your head at him.

You felt his lips on yours as they re-discovered your kisses and his hands roamed to your middle back to press your chest to his.

You were amazed by how fast he had learned how you liked to be touched, how you liked to be kissed and caressed, as if he was just trying to commit to memory everything you ever wanted and he wanted to do it to you to please you.

Dave slid his hands from your back down to your hips and moved you softly to the side, without breaking the kiss he snaked his hands to the back of your thighs and lifted you. You smiled in his mouth and wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked to his bedroom.

When you crossed the doorframe you started leaving small kisses on the skin of his neck and he sat on the edge of his bed with you in his lap, you were already feeling the hardness growing inside his pants and his hands started grazing up and down your thighs as he let you taste his neck how you best pleased.

Dave was in a haze. He understood then the power of physical touch combined with deep love; it enhanced the sensations, the flame inside his chest was burning him from the inside out with a deep desire he was sure he had never felt before, and you were there, moving slowly on his lap as you devoured the skin of his neck and kissed slowly around his jaw.

“Dave,” you whispered as you licked his earlobe and pulled out a shiver from him, he hummed in question “touch me.”

He didn’t hesitate on questioning where, his hands roamed all around your body, they were big and warm and they were rough; you cupped his jaw with both hands and took his lips in yours with a wet, open-mouthed kiss that he followed as his hands snuck inside your shirt and you moaned softly at the feeling of skin to skin.

You moved out of his lap and stood up in front of him, Dave let out a soft whine at the sudden loss of your weight on his body but stopped when you moved his legs open and stood between them.

“Take off my shirt, please.” you told him, not in an order but he obeyed, he grabbed the hem of it and lifted it, you raised your arms and felt his lips on your rib side as you finished taking it off and dropped it on the floor behind you.

Dave put his hands around your torso and licked your skin experimentally, which made you gasp at the feeling of his wet tongue against your skin and he smiled to himself, doing it again and nibbling on the same spot softly.

His hands slid to your waist and without being told to he unbuttoned your jeans and dragged them down slowly, his eyes directly on yours. You smiled at him with your reddened, kiss-swollen lips and he felt your smile settling inside his lower belly, his cock twitching inside his pants.

You put your hands on his shoulders as he helped you out of your shoes and jeans and when you were there, standing in front of him only in your underwear, he swore there wasn’t anything more divine than your body.

You sank on your knees and your hands landed on his thighs, Dave’s throat clutched and his chest turned as you smiled at him and your hands slid to his belt, you raised your eyebrows as if asking for permission and he nodded a few times, leaning backward into his hands to give you space for you to do whatever you wanted to him.

You unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, his breath hitched when your fingers hooked to the hem of both his pants and his boxers, and then he lifted his hips for you to pull them off him. Dave smiled when he saw you bite your lip at the sight of his hard cock resting on his abdomen. It did something unexpected on what he thought was his dead ego, but he loved the way you looked at it.

“Take off your shirt.” you said and again, without it being an order, he obeyed. Unbuttoned it as quickly as he could and slid it off his shoulders as you leaned over his lap and took his erection on your hand, your thumb grazing softly the tip and he threw his head back between his shoulders.

“Oh, my love.” he sighed out as you started pumping slowly and when he closed his eyes, you licked the underside and wrapped your lips around the tip, making him gasp.

You took it slowly, enjoying the taste of his pre-cum as it came out of him, pumping the rest you couldn’t fit inside your mouth with your hand.

Dave forced his eyes open and moved his head down to watch you, he shivered when he found you already looking at him; he moved his hand to your face and with his knuckles caressed your cheek, making you smile with his cock inside your mouth.

For him, looking at you on your knees between his legs was like looking at a sacrosanct painting; your lips around him taking as much of his length as you could, your saliva dripping from his dick to your hand, bobbing your head up and down as your eyes, those holy eyes that never left his, it was a pleasure he never thought he would get in his earthly life.

He felt himself close to cumming, and he pushed your head softly upwards, you rose from your knees and clashed your messy lips onto his and he wrapped his arms around your waist, his large hands roaming around the skin of your back. His fingers played with the back of your bra and he broke the kiss for a few seconds to unhook it and help you slide it off, you smiled when he sighed at the sight of your breasts in front of his face and he pulled you flush against his head, taking a nipple in his mouth.

The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue around the soft skin of your nipple made you cry out his name softly and arousal gathered between your legs. One of his hands rested on your other boob and kneaded delicately as you fisted his hair in your hand. Dave moved his mouth to your other nipple and lapped at it before trapping it inside his mouth, you pressed his head to your chest and let out a moan when his teeth grazed your nipple as he released it.

“I wanna taste you.” he muttered against your boob and you smiled at him, nodding.

He moved you softly to lie down on the bed; the sheets were cool and soft and he stood on the edge, taking you in again, studying your body.

He leaned down to you and you opened your legs to make space for him; he hovered over your body and kissed you again, softly, as if you were back in time to the first kiss he gave you in the sacristy, as if he wasn’t about to devour your body.

His kisses traveled from your mouth to your neck and your chest, he left one in each nipple, making you laugh, he left a trail of them over your belly and one over your belly button. As he kissed your abdomen and your thighs, you looked at the ceiling and you smiled at whoever was watching.

Dave took the hem of your panties on his fingers and you lifted your hips for him to slip them off you, you lifted your legs and he unhooked them from your ankles, grabbing your calves and opening your legs again. He gulped when he saw your wet, expectant pussy right in front of him and looked at your flushed face. He leaned down and left kisses around your thighs without breaking eye contact.

“Guide me.” he whispered and left a kiss right over the hood of your clit, making you moan.

You nodded once, and he looked at your pussy, opened the lips gently with his fingers and blew on your slick folds, making you shiver. He flattened his tongue and licked from your slit to your clit, tasting your arousal, moaning at the richness of it.

You slid your hand to your clit and looked at him.

“Here.” you mumbled, circling a few times to show him how. He had told you he had sex before his ordination, because he didn’t want to go into his holy orders without having experienced it and wondering for the rest of his life what he had missed, but he said it wasn’t as good as he thought it would be and before you, he thought he would never know. So you had to show him what you wanted and what you liked because his experience wasn’t vast.

Dave did as you showed and you moaned out loud, the pads of his fingers were warmer and bigger than yours and he was handling you so delicately you were already on edge.

He kept licking and circling your clit and then, without a second thought, he moved his fingers away and started circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh m–my god,” you fisted his hair, pushing his face into your pussy and he pressed your hips onto the mattress, looking at your face with your mouth opened in pleasure and your eyes closed shut “Dave ke–keep doing that baby,” you pleaded and he did it, and started playing the pad of one of his fingers on your slit, making your hips buck slightly he saw you pant and smiled when you slid your free hand to play with your nipple so he added a second one to play with your entrance “inside, put them inside.” you said under your breath and he pushed his fingers slowly inside your cunt, making you let out a long moan of his name, he started pumping and curling his fingers inside as he had imagined you doing it all those weeks ago while touching himself in the shower and closed his eyes to hear you moan his name as he brought you closer and closer to pleasure.

He moved his fingers faster inside of you and hand fisted and pulled his hair as your moans became tamed screams and he thought of them as the most pious symphony that he and only him had the sacred pleasure to hear.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulders as you felt the knot inside your belly explode from his ministrations and you chanted his name over and over as he worked you through your orgasm. You panted for a few seconds and opened your eyes to the sight of Dave licking his fingers clean. You smiled at him and released his hair to motion him to come to you; he hovered over your body again and you put your hand on his nape to bring him to you; you moaned softly at your own taste and you felt it smile on your lips.

“What?” you asked in a whisper.

“Did you like it?” he asked back on your lips, you nodded and cupped his clean-shaven jaw, leaving a deep kiss on his lips.

“I loved it,” he smiled, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and felt his cock brushing lightly against your folds. “make love to me, Dave.”

You saw his smile widen, and it was his turn to nod to you, he kissed you again while his hand worked on aligning himself to you; he slid the tip through your folds and you gasped on his mouth when he found your entrance and started pushing in.

He did it slowly, no rush; he wanted to feel you in every inch of his cock; he wanted you to feel him and every ridge and vein of him as he found his home in you.

You nipped at his lip as he bottomed up and smiled when he stayed there, inside you, enjoying the wait for your body to acclimate to his, you looked into his eyes and you felt it.

You felt how you two fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

As if his body was made for you and your body was made for him.

It felt right.

It felt sacred.

Dave started moving at a calmed pace and you with him, quickly finding a rhythm where your hips moved almost in unison and he thrusted into you deeply every time he moved. He was supporting his weight on one arm next to you while the other gripped your hip and helped you with the tantalizing dance you both were having.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck when your hands moved to his back and you pulled his body down to yours, his chest gliding yours and his hips circling as he thrusted faster into you.

Dave moaned into your neck when you scratched his back as his thrusts became pounds.

“Harder, please, baby, harder.” you whispered into his ear and he listened, driving into you as fast as his body allowed, the noise of his skin clashing with yours and the wetness of you leaking around his cock flooded the room and his moans grew louder and you dug your nails into his skin chanting his name as you got closer and closer to your second release.

“Yo–you’re a goddess,” he muttered into the skin of your neck as his cock grazed your cervix, his hand wrapped around your hips and he lifted your ass for him to thrust deeper, making you moan his name loudly “you’re m–my go–goddess.”

You slid your hands to his ass and fisted his buttcheeks, pushing him further into you.

Dave felt his orgasm closer and closer every time he drove into you and your warm walls started to clench around him with the closeness of your orgasm, he nibbled the skin of your neck and clutched his eyes shut tighter when his body started to stiffen as he pounded into you; he muttered your name a few times like a prayer he never knew he needed to make, and it sounded right, your name in his voice as he drove himself and you to climax, his own name on your sweet voice as you begged him for everything he had in himself, it was all right, it was all correct, there was nothing wrong, how could he had felt so guilty about it when it was the most perfect, most righteous, most sacred, most heavenly action he could do.

You in his arms, your hands on his body, his cock inside your cunt, you wrapped around him begging him to cum inside you, everything about it was all he could have asked for to feel like he was in heaven. He had almost said no to feel it, and he bursted inside you at the same time as you broke in pieces around him, thinking that he would rather live his life with you around him than his afterlife in heaven.

“I love you.” he muttered against the skin of your neck and you opened your eyes after riding the high of your orgasm and looked at the ceiling.

You frowned when you heard his words and when you remembered what he said to you before he came, and as you turned to the side to see him that red warmth you had felt earlier disappeared almost completely and the bright green taint of the deep guilt inside you washed over your body and your soul.

He looked at you and narrowed his eyes. His expression changed as he realized you weren’t going to answer his confession.

“Dave,” you whispered and his face changed, his brow furrowed and you saw his jaw tighten “what did we just do?”

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neko-rogers · 4 years ago

Text

All I Ever Need

Peter warned you about the dangers of online dating.

words: 4,007

tags: dark!peter parker, strong and explicit non-consensual elements, manipulation, implications of sex-pollen or drugging, lowkey breeding kink

a/n: please forgive me! i’m still new to writing dark!versed fics <3 but this was a request and i couldn’t resist (: if you liked this then you are free to help me out and improve my writing by leaving feedback or suggesting prompts that i could write about

It was emotionally crushing.

The moment you decided to create a Tinder account led you to all sorts of feelings.

As someone who had been busy with your final year of college, you never thought of engaging much in the relationships territory. With all these, you could only focus on finally graduating and obtaining a stable job. The idea that you were providing for yourself, without having to depend on a significant other, was fulfilling.

It did not help further considering that most of your group of friends were just as hardworking as you. Peter Parker was one the closest and much more than just a good influence. Truly too good to be true.

Nonetheless, you finally tried out those infamous dating applications you have been hearing. Despite warnings from your friends about how dangerous it can be, you were confident that you were smart enough to handle it.

“You're still hung up on that app?” Peter interrupts alongside.

The professor dismissed the class moments ago, and at least half of the people already exited the room. As always, Peter waited for you before heading for next subject.

Admittedly, you were a bit caught up with your phone. Swiping left and right sounded boring, but for some reason you found it amusing how convenient it can be – the interaction and messages was a bonus. “So what if I am?”

You lock your phone before Peter got to snoop further. Both your reflections could be seen amongst the black screen as you placed it on top of your other textbooks to be carried.

“Any interaction online is dangerous,” he explains. “I thought you out of all people should know that, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes at his remark. “You’re only a year older than me yet you sound like my dad. You know I’m already twenty-two, right?”

“I’d hate to be the one to say I told you so when your world comes crashing down,” he consoles.

“Oh thats bullshit, Parker.” You could almost laugh at his sense of ridicule. “Like you said, I’m smart. I’m sure I’ll be able to handle online dating. Have faith in me, yeah?”

“Yeah, whatever. It’s fine.” Peter nods, still beside as you walked along the hallway. “It’s not like you’re already going on a date with one of them, right.” His assumption comes off as a statement rather than a question.

However, you stay quiet seeming as it was best to leave it unanswered.

“Oh no, please don’t tell me you’re seeing someone already.” Peter looks back when you decided to stay a meter behind him to save you from the guilt.

“It’s just a second date, it won’t harm me,” you defended. “Plus, he goes to the community college nearby.” “What?! You two are already on your second date before you told me, or anyone of your friends?” You could understand where his temper was coming from, but in the end, it was none of their business.

“I know, but I just thought it wasn’t a big deal. Besides this is about me and Jacob.”

Fortunately enough, you and Peter have the same subject which was BioChemistry. This time, he followed you behind while you avoided his gaze. He waited until you took a seat along the second to the last row, and then taking his seat next to you.

You look straight, facing the chalkboard displayed at the farther side of the room. Though you could not see Peter entirely, you could see his glowering look by the corner of your eye. “So his name his Jacob, huh, tell me more about him.”

This was the reason why you could not update him, or any of your friends. You knew this would happen. They begin getting so nosy around your life before they even realize it.

Surely, you did love your friends, much more the boy sitting next to you. They have been with you since freshman year, and you were more than grateful for one another’s support.

“Peter, I don’t think that whatever I tell you would concern you,” you state clearly to avoid a dragging conversation.

“But we care about you, I care about you, Y/N.” He pouts, “The moment he tries to hurt you, you’ll run back to us and cry about it. I just want to skip seeing that part knowing I can’t see you heartbroken.”

You furrow your eyebrows. His statement comes off as a bit acquisitive, but you knew that it was just his concern caught up in the moment. “That’s the problem. We all need to eventually fail or feel pain. It’s normal, especially for young adults like us, Peter!”

There was a lot of things you wanted to say now. He trigged you somehow and now you’re at the edge of becoming a rambling mess. The worst part of it was that you were scared that you might say something that you would not be able to take back.

“Okay then I’ll–”

“No look, I apologize for raising my voice.” You sighed to calm yourself down and compose your thoughts better. “You know I adore you so much, Peter. And I appreciate you looking out for me. But this can’t be forever, I’ll eventually have to learn how to deal with these kinds of stuff.”

You got through barely half of your day yet you could already feel the emotional turn of having an argument with one of your best friends.

And eventually, your professor entered the room. Barely giving the two of you a moment to continue the heated conversation just seconds ago. The displeased look on Peter’s face remained as he looked in front, acknowledging that both of you took lectures seriously. He wanted to pick up this argument at another setting.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

"Congrats to your first ever anniversary!” Your friends applaud just as Jacob was seated next to you.

“We’re so proud of you.”

“You two look so happy together!”

“Both of you look amazing, practically perfect for each other.”

“Can’t believe it’s already been a year.”

A year has passed, your group of friends remained even so with Peter. In addition, they learned to accept your boyfriend despite their doubts on online dating sites and applications.

Just as they learned to trust your decisions more, you also learned way more about your significant other. Though despite your differences in fields, you learned to love him more than you thought you could.

All of you have freshly graduated from college. Most of your friends did not have much planned so far; however, as your friendship with Peter remained, he grew to understand your feelings more and handled it sensitively.

After your argument during your early days of dating Jacob, he eventually apologized for his behavior too. Though that was not the only time your friendship with him was put to a test. After the succeeding months, Peter still gave feint warnings and acted a bit overprotective when you tried telling him how you wanted to take your relationship to another level and get more serious.

Nonetheless, you did not let any of your peers affect your view upon your relationship. Seeing that you were now at your first anniversary, you were happy that you followed what your heart and gut believed in.

“To be honest we didn’t expect our Y/N to be getting into a relationship before we graduate, let alone celebrating her first anniversary!” Liz joked. “But in the end, just know that we love you and we’re here for you.”

You smiled, looking at your friends who seemed to share the same feeling. After graduation, everything feels too good. It feels as if your life was falling into place.

Not only have you gotten into a relationship with a kind guy. You also attained high ranks among the other students in your program, which led to companies offering you internships right off the bat. Rather than you worrying about where you’re heading to after college, you got the privilege to pick what you wanted to do.

Surprisingly, you got an offer from the Stark Industries to become an internship on being their analytical chemist. It was the most tempting offer you got. Who would not accept an opportunity like that, right?

When you learned that Peter also got an offer, you were more than happy for him. You knew he was one of the smartest persons in class and he deserved it just as you did.

Both your contracts agreed that the internship starts a month from now which was just perfect, considering that you also have a few things to do prior to it.

“Well, this girl also has a lot planned ahead,” you announce while catching the attention of your friends that were circled around you. “Me and Jacob were talking about moving in probably in his apartment by the end of the month.”

Your intention was not to brag. Everyone could see how genuinely excited you were with such a big event. You were just so happy that despite what every one thought your relationship would end, you accepted whether the outcome would be good or bad.

Your friends cheered at you for taking a big step into your relationship. Looking back, you were so scared to accept the second date, but little by little you could not notice how much progress has been done.

“I am so thankful for you guys.” You smiled and nodded at them before looking to your side where Jacob happily watched you interact with your friends. You slung your arm over his chest and planted a kiss directly at his lips.

“We’re always here for you, Y/N,” Peter added along with a smile.

Unbeknownst to you, just as your friends had left the celebration, you had big news yet to hear.

As you drape your purse over one shoulder, your boyfriend assisted you out. He held one side of the door for you and walked after you. He held onto the side of your waist until both of you reached his car.

Like the gentleman he is, he went over to the passenger side to open the car door for you before doing the same for himself at the driver’s side.

When both of you were finally inside the car, Jacob had not started the car immediately. He paused with fingers gripping around the edges of the steering wheel.

His sigh was just as evident, hearing it echo around the car which left chills across your skin as you looked at him. “You seem bothered. What’s wrong?”

He avoided to look at you just as both of your hands reach for one of his. He lets you toy with his fingers yet his gaze still directs straight at the gas pedal. You lean further to catch a glimpse of him, moving one hand to cup his cheek. “Hey, what’s bugging you, babe? I’m here to listen.”

“I’m sorry,” he starts off. The puzzled look on your face apparent as to what he’s trying to apologize for.

“What do you mean?”

“I just don’t think you deserve to stay with someone like me.”

His self-loathing was not settling your confusion in any way at all. “I still don’t get it.” You did have an assumption in mind, but you chose not to jump into it as it might flare up on what’s happening now.

“I think we need to break up,” Jacob swiftly drops.

Slowly, you pull back and rest your back against the window. You bring a hand up to brush the little fringes in front of your face. You were trying to comprehend everything that’s happening. “I don’t understand. Why so sudden?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Y/N–”

“Then what should I get?” Your voice starts to crack as you hold back the tears. “I don’t understand anything at all! You seemed so happy a couple of hours ago.”

“That’s why I’m apologizing,” he softly explains. “You don’t deserve me, I’ve been so horrible to you–”

“You have been so nice to me. I don’t know where you’re getting all of this, at all!” Eventually, tears could not help but form around the corners of your eyes.

Jacob sighs, finally looking at you. “You deserve so much more than this, I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Finally, the tears began to spill. You covered both your eyes with your palms, trying to both hide and wipe them away. “Y-you can’t just break up with me after celebrating our first anniversary.”

“I’m sorry–” “Stop saying that,” you sniffed. You did not know what annoyed you more, hearing him apologize like a broken record or hearing him imply the ‘its not you, it’s me and you deserve more’ bullshit. “You’re too cruel.”

“I’ll drive you to your house,” he offers. The look on his face seemed very guilty. You did not know what was behind these sudden turn of events, but either way you were heartbroken for how

“No,” you stated. “Uhm, I have a friend who lives nearby. You can drop me off there.”

“Okay.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

“That’s pretty much my night in a nutshell,” you sighed as Peter entered his room with a blanket and some clothes in hand.

Your legs were cross-seated over his bed as your hid your face with your hands. Peter frowned as he walked over to the edge of his bed where you were positioned. “I just don’t understand why he dumped me all of a sudden, might I add, dumped me on our first anniversary!”

You felt a hand over your back, rubbing slow and comforting strokes as you continued to cry. “Just as I thought I was getting to know him better.”

It was emotionally crushing.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Well.” You look up at him despite knowing your nose eyes eyelids became swollen, “You can finally tell me that you told me so.”

“That doesn’t matter right now.” His hands move to the ends of your hair, toying with the strands before turning half of his body aside. He reaches for a mug that situated on top of his nightstand, “Here. I brought you a cup of tea.”

“Thanks, but I’m not really thirsty–”

“Drink,” he calmly says. “You need to get hydrated after crying.”

You could not argue with that. You’ve definitely lost a lot of water in your body after hours of just crying, without drinking anything. “You know me so well.” you told him and added, “I should’ve just listened to you when you warned me about strangers online.”

“I guess I owe you an apology.”

Peter chuckled at your statement and watched you as your lips slowly sipped at the heated tea he had just prepared. “No need to be sorry about anything now, I’m just glad you’re safe. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Don’t worry he didn’t physically touch me,” you assure as he nods.

The adorable boy in front of you slyly looked down as he called for your name. “Y/N? Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Peter.”

“Why’d you choose to stop by my place amongst our other friends.”

You finally finish the entire drink he had prepared. Before you could answer him, you extended your arm in order to set the fragile mug back on top of his bed side drawer.

“Well for one, I still know where your place was, and it was closest from the restaurant,” you answered. “And conveniently enough, you were the first person I could think of after Jacob hurt my feelings.”

“I could vividly remember your warnings just as I realized he was breaking up with me already. I didn’t know whether to feel sad or ashamed. What I do know was that you knew me too well, even before I became fully aware of it.”

He smiled at your answer, and you gave the same look at him. “Well I’m glad you thought of me.” His hands reach over to yours and places them on top, feeling the warmth of his body over yours. “I would never want to hurt you, nor let you feel the pain Jacob gave you.”

“You’re too sweet.” You smile.

Your hands rubbed circles around your eyes first. Then you tried to lean in front, opening your arms wide signaling for a hug. Peter did not hesitate to hug you back, enveloping his arms while both of you rest your chins on top of each other’s shoulders.

From this angle, you could strongly scent his cologne. However, that was not the only thing you could observe.

As each second passes, you were not sure if you were the only one who could notice how hot the room was getting. Either that or that your skin was starting to burn up. “Peter?”

“Don’t you think it’s getting hot–”

As you were just about to react, you felt a pair of lips against yours. Peter had pulled back, and even when you could have realized it, he was pinning you down as your back presses against his bed.

And as much as this was entirely contradicting your morals, you did not feel an ounce of guilt as one of your best friends continued to leave kisses down your neck. You were not entirely sure why your mind was doubting this, but your body was suddenly, badly craving for touch – and Peter was conveniently doing you the favor.

“Don’t I think it’s getting what?” Peter sits up and teases just as he pulls his shirt over his shoulders.

“Nothing,” you groan. “But I don’t think this is a good idea–”

He shushes you, “Relax. Let me take care of you, yeah?

His hands gently released heir grip around your wrists. He was confident enough that you wouldn’t fight back after finishing the drink he exclusively brewed for you.

Your state of mind was perfectly right where he expected it to be. Just conscious enough to feel him against you, but incapable of thinking rationally.

He just hated how smart you were when it came to his friends and school; however, just as he expects, you were not as quick-witted when it came to relationships.

And hiring Jacob was definitely one of his greatest achievements so far. He lost a part of his savings along the way, but nothing could ever become as valuable as you. Now that you were in his room, let alone under his touch, he had the upper hand.

Peter was not letting you go that easy afterwards.

For now, he continues to leave kisses under your jaw while your hands lazily combs through the locks of his hair. He proudly hums against your skin after leaving gentle nibbles that started to leave evident love marks.

One of his hands creep under your shirt, reaching to unhook your bra. As he successfully does, he moves to adjust your shirt over your breasts. He gets a good view of them even without having to pull it over your head, smirking to himself as this has been a fantasy he has been dreading for.

“Fuck you’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” he murmurs. With one hand, he gently squeezes around one of your breasts just as he descends at your body.

“Peter,” your moan comes from above his head just as he was ready to spread your legs.

“Yeah, babe?”

“C-condom,” you mumbled with eyelids partially open.

He chuckled as a response, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

Peter tried to test the waters first to make sure he was completely in control of this situation. He drags the tip of his fingers across your stomach, further narrowing the path down as it reached at the entrance of your cunt.

He could instantly sense how wet you have become throughout his teasing. Both his middle and ring finger grew damper as he inserted them inch by inch, slowly seeing them reappear.

The warmth radiating around your walls excites him more, assuming how good you would be while his cock was wrapped around it. He instinctively curls his fingers out of excitement, forgetting that he was trying to handle you gently.

You react by tightening around it, along with a whine.

“Sorry, babe.”

Moreover, he continues it up until he felt his erection grow harden than before. He made sure he was completely hard before finally dropping both your pants down, attending to yours first until you were completely naked – excluding the shirt he did not haul over your head.

Next was his turn. He undid his shorts and threw them away ever so quickly. Then rushed to welcome himself between the space of your legs. “You ready for me, babe?” He did not leave a choice despite asking that either way. You remained helpless under him.

“Hmm,” was your only response.

Peter did not hesitate as he glides into you. He groans at your heat, grasping that you feel better now compared to when he was using his fingers. “Oh shit,” he groans while speeding up the pace of his thrusts, “you feel so good.”

“That’s it, holy fuck.” He was surprised at how responsive your body was still. Despite drugging you to the extent of being mentally incapable, your body was contracting all over him as if it was enjoying itself.

He continued to praise your body even if you could not understand what he was saying. The entire event revolved around him fucking you and leaving sweet remarks as if he was your boyfriend – and not, at all, a friend who laced your drink and made you believe you were somewhere safe.

Though Peter did say he was going to care for you. Ironically, it was obvious that all he can think about now is chasing his orgasm and nutting inside you. After all, it was one of his dark and twisted fantasies – to have full control over you, at least.

There were few moans coming from you, but the happy noises being created by Peter overpowers. With all of this, sexual, tension he finally got to release, it was expected that he was going to cum sooner.

“Fuck,” and other swears came from him. “Didn’t expect to cum so soon.”

As he did not care about your take on this, he also did not give a fuck when he was planning to cum inside you. Since he purposely avoided to wear any kind of protection, let alone learn if you were in any kind of birth control, anyone in their right mind would know what could happen the morning after.

Willfully, he made sure to go deeper inside you until he could feel the tip of his cock twitch as a sign that he was going to cum. “Gonna fill you up with my cum, yeah,” he grunts as if you were going to reply. “And you’re gonna take it like the good girl you are.”

Even so, when Peter finally felt his release, he took a good look at you beneath. You seemed hot and bothered, but not as him. Your chest was heaving all the while he could feel the speed of the beating of his heart.

When he steadily pulls out, the awaited moment of his deep, dark fantasies finally arise. He could clearly see his own cum beautifully spilling out of your cunt like a cream pie. He could almost feel himself get turned on just at the sigh of it, but he considered that round two’s with you would be saved for next time.

“Peter?” “Hmm?”

“I still feel hot,” you purr.

Peter extends his arm to gently place the back of his hand over your forehead, feeling how feverish your body still was. There were few hints of sweat streaming from your forehead. “Let me take care of you, I’ll just run you a bath, okay?”

You childishly smile and agree with him, “O-okay.” He pulls back to be able to properly stand and proceeds to head to his shower with a huge smile from his face.

You were his.

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i-simp-for-gintoki · 4 years ago

Text

Gojo reacting to his s/o being better than him

“Gojo being always outskilled by reader at random things and his reaction. Not necessarily killing curses or being a shaman, but stuff like sports, cooking or video games”

This ended up just being an arcade date of sorts oops

First time you beat him at something is when you were out and about together at some night market and played some games

You beat his score by a few points

And while he wasn’t going all out, it still something he remembered but didn’t think to much about

He did find your smug/proud smile afterwards very adorable though

You guys had a mini bake off, a spur of the moment really but you wanted to see who could make better deserts

Much to his surprise, you won and thats when he starts saying you just are lucky and refusing to believe you could have possibly outskilled him at something

He decided to bring you to an arcade to really test your skill

He’s been going to this arcade ever since he was allowed to leave the house, he’s the proud owner of almost every high score in there

One kid beat him in his teens and he made sure to make the child’s score so bad the child had to reevaluate their whole entire life

A fond memory of his

Anyways, he lets you choose whatever games you want to do, he’s confident hes going to win

But when he heard a ‘new high score!’ come from the game, his smirk drops along with his jaw

“No way.”

You laugh and make sure to take tons of photos of his shocked expression

He no longer lets you choose the game and instead goes to a claw machine

“These actually require skill, who ever gets the most in a row wins” he says patting the top of a machine like its a good friend

You chuckle and nod your head and watches as he goes first

He may be wearing sunglasses, but you can tell he’s actually focusing and trying for once

‘I’m THE Gojo Satoru, the man so talented i literally have to restrict my hobbies since i’m a natural master at everything. I shouldn’t be losing so much to y/n’ he tells himself

You were recording the whole thing, how unnaturally silent he was, watching as the stuffed animals were picked up by the claw, how his beautiful blue eyes are 110% focused on the task in front of him

You take it as a high honor making him try so hard

25 plushies threw and he finally fails, you briefly noticed how his mouth twitched and his hand flexed, a sign he was annoyed he only got 25 but he played it off with a smile

“25 whole plushies for my lovely y/n, think you could beat that?” he says leaning close to your face.

You lean closer and right when your noses almost touch you give him a cocky grin before pulling away

“Easy.”

Putting your phone away and you went up to the machine, took a deep breath and focused

You got 27 plushies

He frowned

“You know what, you don’t get any of the ones i got. You can deal with your ugly plushies. What even is this one a rabbit?” he says poking one of them

You laugh at his pouty face

“You went for the easier ones as well, cheater.” he complains and for the next minute or two throws a mini exaggerated fit

You stare at the literal pile of stuffed animals at your guys’s feet, and back up at the machine which was basically empty

“So are we just gonna leave these 42 plushies here or..” “Are you kidding me? No way, go grab some bags while i watch over them” gojo says picking a few up

“Their not children, they dont need watching”

He gasps and covers one of the plushie’s ears

“How dare you say that infront of Minty. You should be ashamed of yourself, we have a large family of 32 children and i plan to take care of them all” he says hugging a bunch, already thinking of silly names for each and every one of them

At the end of the day he does respect your skill, yes he may be over dramatic and be all pouty about losing to you, but he thinks its damn impressing to beat him at anything

Just don’t go bragging about it too much or showing off photos with his face of pure defeat

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tags please #why must tags not work im going to cry

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hufflautia · 4 years ago

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Where it all started [Part 1]

Chapter 1

Sometimes links don’t appear on posts. if you can’t see the link to “Chapter 1”, my masterlist is pinned to the top of my blog, and you can find it there.

Summary: Slytherin’s parents have another argument, but at this point, no one’s surprised. After all, they’re her parents. It would be abnormal if they didn’t argue. However, this one’s a biggie. The fight ends with the slam of a door and her dad packing his bags into the car and getting ready to leave. Desperate for him to come back, Slytherin’s mom forces her to go to him with a message that will surely make him stay. Buckle up folks, for this is where it all began.

Slytherin stood on the sidewalk as she watched her dad pack up his things into the van.

She dug her fingernails into her arm, her heart stinging with ache as her dad turned around with a smile on his face, a failed attempt to reassure her that it was going to be ok. It was all gonna be ok. After all, this was normal, right? It’s not like it was unusual that her dad was leaving again to go back to Florida, where the homewrecker waited for him, her outstretched hands eagerly opened up to him and his credit card.

However, this was the first time he left abruptly. A spike of sorrow stabbed at Slytherin’s heart as she thought back to the sound of her parents’ door abruptly opening; soon after, she could hear angry stomps that quickly descended down the steps of the staircase.

She could almost hear the hiss in her ear as she stood in the archway of the living room, watching her dad leave in the far distance. “Tell him that Ravenclaw’s crying,” her mother spat, pushing her towards the front door. “Quickly, before he leaves!”

Slytherin internally sighed. How typical. Instead of resolving their relationship issues by going to couples therapy, her mom decided to throw all those burdens onto her daughter, who had already grown tragically used to being used as her puppet.

She decided not to argue against going after her dad and trying to guilt-trip him into staying home as her mom wanted. Otherwise, she would be lectured on how she’s selfish and wouldn’t do this small thing for her mom, how she’s basically ruining this family by letting her dad leave, how family is so fucking important and manipulating her dad into staying would be vital to their happiness as a whole, how family this and family that.

You get the point. Slytherin certainly did. That’s why she was currently standing awkwardly behind her dad, staring at his back as he lifted boxes into his car.

“Um, Raven…” She paused. Her throat felt dry and tight. Swallowing with difficulty, she tried again. “Ravenclaw’s crying.”

It wasn’t the crying itself that mattered. That wasn’t the main reason why her mom rushed her out the door to deliver the message to her dad. It was simply the fact that it was Ravenclaw who was crying. Let’s just say that he and his dad had a complicated relationship.

Things were never the same between them after Ravenclaw sent an angry message to him via text when he was in Florida a year ago. The contents of the message reeked of disdain for his constant infidelity. When his mom found out, she shoved the phone into Slytherin’s face in the dead of night and asked if she knew about this. The glaring light from the screen nearly blinded her.

Slytherin read the text messages through squinted eyes and could make out a few curse words here and there. Though she was slightly disoriented from the sudden ambush of information, it was clear to her that her brother resented their dad for what he did.

That made Ravenclaw’s anguish even more useful in their mom’s opinion. Seeing the tears streak down his face when he heard that his dad was leaving again, she had a glorious idea. Perhaps if her husband knew of their son’s sorrow, he would reconsider his abrupt departure. After all, it was Ravenclaw who was crying.

If it were Hufflepuff, that would be understandable—she can get quite emotional sometimes. But it was Ravenclaw, who was usually guarded and distant. One might suggest that he was secretly broken inside. But that’s not the point, at least not in his mom’s opinion. The main thing she was concerned about was that she could use his misery to her advantage! Maybe if her husband knew of his sadness, he would feel guilty enough to stay behind. After all, if his son, who despised him, was upset over his departure, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to stay home and endure his wife’s temper for a little while longer.

Slytherin’s words did produce somewhat of a reaction. Her dad didn’t turn around for a while, but when he did, his eyes were slightly red and puffy. It was evident that he was trying to hold back his tears. One might think that this means that he’ll stay. He seemed distraught over the news that his son was crying because of his leave. Surely, he’ll stay, right?

It wasn’t enough. Nothing ever seems to be enough.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” He hugged her briefly and gave a light squeeze as a sign of reassurance. As a silent message that it was going to be ok. Even though everything was most definitely not okay. A thousand hugs and gestures of reassurance wouldn’t change this.

Slytherin didn’t react angrily to his refusal, the unspoken declaration of No, I will not go back home. In fact, it seemed as if she didn’t react at all. However, if one were paying close attention, they would notice the sparkle in her eyes dim. But maybe there wasn’t a sparkle to begin with. She had been enduring this shit for so long that she forgot what it was like to be normal, to feel like the white kid you see in commercials, the one who seemed to radiate mirth, a type of energy that said, I don’t have a care in the world because life is so fucking great and I can’t stop smiling. She didn’t even bother to smile, a common facial expression when one is in a difficult situation and tries to diffuse the somber atmosphere by slapping a facade on their face, the corners of their lips upturned to form a grimace that resembles some sort of a smile—a twisted kind of smile, that’s for sure. Why should she pretend that everything was okay when it wasn’t? Instead, she merely nodded in response.

When her dad pulled away to pack the last box into the trunk, she took a deep breath to diminish the familiar sense of abandonment that flooded her senses, to clear the warning signs that flashed in her mind. He’s leaving! Your dad is leaving! He’s abandoning you again. You’re apparently not important enough for him to stay.

She stared at the ground, only looking up when she heard the sound of a car door slamming shut. The resounding click was all it took for the waterfalls to finally pour from her eyes, for it was at this moment when she realized that this was actually happening. This was no dream—it was reality. Her sad, devastating reality. Tears blurred her vision as she watched the car drive away, leaving her in the dust.

Slytherin gasped in erratic breaths between her broken sobs as her eyes hung onto the tiny speck that resembled her dad who was driving

away,

and a-w-a-y.

Through the jumble of thoughts that clashed in her head, one thing was clear. Her dad was her dad, but only sometimes.

Tears streaking down her face, she tried to soothe her pain with the belief that he would be back soon. If only she had known that it would be a while before he returned. If only he hadn’t left. Perhaps things would’ve been different for her if he stayed, for this was where it started.

This marked the beginning of it all.

Comments and reblogs are a writer’s gold!

MASTERLIST ; sometimes links don’t appear on posts. if you can’t see the link to “MASTERLIST”, the masterlist itself is pinned to the top of my blog. check it out if you haven’t already!

Author’s note: HI! Were you surprised to see that I posted two fics in a row?? I hope you enjoyed this. Most of it was unfortunately based on what happened to me a year or two ago. I based Ravenclaw on my brother, who did actually cry when my dad was leaving after an argument, and yes, my wack mother did force me to run after my dad to tell him. One of the few differences is that I’m not a drug addict and I’m fine now so dont worry.

Idk how I feel about this series, it is a lot darker from what I usually write. I know I’m gonna have to write more for creative writing class, so maybe i will continue it. I will try to think of how to turn these fics into something more positive, because this stuff is very heavy and depressing. however, that will be a little difficult because the plot itself is naturally drab. however, i will try to think of a happy ending for Faye/Slytherin.

Shall we look at some wholesome pictures?

lmaoaoa i pasted this picture from the internet and tumblr glitched and pushed the pic all the way to the top. imagine seeing this dog at the beginning of the fic, that would be funny :’)

AWWWWWW I THINK THIS MIGHT BE MY FAVORITE

ok hold up i just realized that is probably a stuffed animal 😐 this is so embarassing lmaoaoa when i saw it i was like THAT IS SO FRICKIN CUTE

OK WAIT WTF NOW I THINK ITS AN ACTUAL DOG??? CAN SOMEONE HELP AND TELL ME IF ITS REAL OR NOT?!! at first, i thought it was real, but then i looked at the paws and it looked kinda fake and i was like this dog is too fluffy and wholesome to be real. BUT THEN I LOOKED AGAIN and i think the owners just put the pooh outfit over the dog?? what is going on with my brain.. but at the same time, its 2 am for me rn so maybe i should get some sleep BUT FIRST, LETS LOOK AT MORE DOGS <3 (lmaoaoa i feel like my friend would say “gosh ur such a hufflepuff” (menna im talking about u lmao omg hey gorl))

After seeing this gryffindor pup, i immediately searched up “dog costumes hufflepuff” lmaoooooo

OK THATS ENOUGH DOGS FOR NOW. Part 2 is coming soon. I already have it ready but I might not post it right away.

That’s all for now. Be sure to let me know what you think. TOODELOOO!

TAGS: @slytherpuff-shenanigans @lokijiro @xxkitsurikaxx @sara-is-boredd @skylee-skz @determinedpines @draco22malfoy @pancakes-and-sugar @casteel08 @indigosimon1998 @tell-that-to-my-feather @the-ugly-duck0 @prettyblueskylark @okiguessimawitchnow @daisyinmyheart @peachyblue @korra4321 @shoyoockbby @ravenflowersposts @walkinganomaly @parkerthemarker02 @hummingbird-hufflepuff @bumbblebeeeeee @luciferswife16 @iknow-im-cute @maisen98 @shadowsinger11 @tuonglam03 @fanfic-reblogger @mygc0re @rellasworld @sha3thehunter @croctusjuice @jadefox05 @d0uxs @charleii @kaylenthegreat @hufflepufflepukwudgie3897 @insertlongnamehere @trashpannda @ihate-myname @nowheredreamer @history-geek101 @strawberrypanda99 @nikkijovanic @hannanshi @sirenofthe7seas @johannamariemst @badass-like-damon @willow-salix @remmyswritings @x-whatsupdoc-x @dracosvftie @hitchhiker-of-the-galaxy @akerlizzie @thatfann @justanxiousme @another-witch @bucinjisung @elegantcroissantplaidpony @treefroggo @narritydream @hufflpuffles @adreameratdawn @leftpeanutturtleegg @turbulentbluebird5 @geekgirl69 @praiseourlordduck @quakemebacktothe50s @nomad-of-the-realms @stardustzainy @theblackwolf21 @crakencc @introvertedrae @cryinbisexual @bojelina @cocoqueenstheword @manicpixiedreamtarot @velvetstrawberry @jxmpsuitx @simpering-simpleton @urfaveslytherin @asterinatlas @simpforkpop @pufflehuff929 @morallyambiguoussimp @applekenm @chunwest @oncergleekpotterhead @no1-importan @qiaopao @dulduldoldul @schlongbottom @vickeyunicorn @peanut-in-the-goal @hufflepuffgirly @flvrqnce @nothingtoseehere812 @maxwellsgang @1d-killed-me @betacaroteno-lanudo @dragon-slayer-fairy1 @thatonebislytherin @dragonsandbread @justanotherperson @sophiexteresa @hmilkwhoney @writertwiddle @questionsbecameourocean @anomiatartle @coldsweetharmony @dont-hyuck @fixstationed @kindawannadietbh @trippy-morgan @xo-angel-ox @fangirlgeekandfreak @evolnura @mossy-axolotl @verylovelystars @boilyourteeth @megand2017 @malfoys-demigod @booksntings @joshirlangford @staymoarmyzen @poojxshxh @hedgepuffgirl @alverniaphi @verifiefangirl-mainblog @purpleskymalfoy @roxy3457 @rayanicaraynbow @jess-harrywars @starrysonic @tonksichu @lauxtbs @tumlbr-trasher @chelseasosa @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @swagangelhorsepickle @princessstoopid @pymmoon @emilyaneliperry @pond-waterr @pandapillow @saraleo95 @astrartss @trentalexanders @theoriginaljohnwatsonsblog @nevilletheplantboi @just--another--hufflepuff @yoongifiess @ajdqueen @annie-mcl @coloring-bud @majorfangirl37 @eatacrackerandstop @weasleytwinswheezes @imscaredofhorses @dontmindmeimjustabox @glitterykidlightmug @multi-fandom-nutjob @littleemotionalpanda @thewitcheswords @blueberry-9-pancakes @worldsbestdilfbecky @qixnsriess @inexperiencedpotathoe @notsowiseravenclaw @captiniminnie @ruinyourface @da-fox-rangerrr @inkedintothepaper @happy-puff @grandcyclecreation @dawinehouse @catiwisspuff @aasa2102 @mae-25 @sydthekidd98 @kokichismango @xxavaloraxx @iamahufflepuff @adoregin @sunnniiee @lewispoolerpayton @dumbbitch85 @bumblebirbs @diggorycullen @protectorofsk8topia @silverhetdanes @zuko-28 @beardedhumanoid @arianatorpotterhead @shipping-book-keeper @marvelenthusiast10 @i-cannot-do-aesthetics @a-huffleing-lesbean @kaslec @hufflepuffwritess @mouthfacereborn @kodeinekissss @ihavenocontrolofmylifeeither @pinqgchuu @im-a-solanum-lycopersicum @clementines-x @stressy-depressy @sweetinvisiblewriter @absentmindeduniverse @asnowpuff @theofficialgaybestfriend @violayaxley @sunshinyyb @colettedelaurel @theoriginalsherlockholmesblog @i-have-a-bad-feeling @jpow345 @gay-disaster826 @bloodyxheaven @autumnpleaves @froggy-failure @toomanybandstocare @pink1babez @untitled-2424 @sleepdeprivedgurl @chaseanders @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @nugnugchick @queenofwordsandnerds @ganjeolhiddaeng @wordy-escapades @writtenfoxscreams @w0odr0ses @coolpetsmcubandit @crypticcandi @widowsgranger @fantasyprincess101 @wiiltedflowers @aestheticworldd @miniaturefunnytraveldonkey @bucketofdeadroses @uwuplsh @softedits-exe @cel3stialone @sofiapeachyy @wanderaven92 @eunnieah @marsupialsgotbloodyears @eurydicedior @neonuzumaki @uhhhem

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sanchoyo · 3 years ago

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danny phantom 8-13 thoughts! again, under the cut bc I blew through 6 episodes in one go...

-LOVE THE WAY THE GHOST ZONE LOOKS. but theres fucking ghost cops??? ghost jail??? that SUCKS imagine dying and going to jail in your AFTERLIFE. danny going to JAIL WAS NOT something I expected. but seeing all the enemies together and work with danny to bust out. SO ICONIC I love that actually. and the thing about real world stuff acting as ghosts in the ghost zone is very cool.

-'there are some things more important that hunting ghosts!' mrs fenton says, about her husband forgetting their anaversary (FOR THE 18TH YEAR IN A ROW?? CHRIST) and not about, idk, their son clearly freaked out. she didnt even notice he was gone into the ghost zone!!! he might be a bad husband BUT shes not the best mom. they suck and I don't care about their relationship problems I care about these kids. danny doing his best to clean the house to keep his mom from getting mad at his dad?? hes such a good boy I want to cry, this is not his place, his dad should be cleaning his own shit up!!!

-maddie's butch lesbian sister is living my best life in her lil cabin. also being a snarky bitch to jack. queen. and her getting a 10th anniversary of her divorce. LOVE IT.

-mr. lancer being a cheerleader in his younger years makes perfect sense to me. king shit.

-dr. spectra's cat ears/mullet hairstyle?? sooo cute. I also just love the concept of a ghost just. sucking out people's positivity and feeding on emotions. a great villain. she put danny in a fucking diaper what the FUCK. and keeping it cold so no one would suspect shes a ghost??? INCREDIBLE. and her gay little blob sidekick. wlw mlm evil solidarity.

-JAZZ FOCUSED EP. YEAAAH!!! her first thought when she saw the ghosts was like 'omg i gotta tell danny :)' and her going to the teacher and also councilor trying to get help for him...shes just 16 but shes trying so hard to help him out :( watching this when youre younger I can imagine ppl are like omg annoying!! but watching this when im older im just like :( jazz baby im SO sorry </3 SHE BODIED THAT GHOST THOUGH. and the fact she didnt tell danny she knew surprised me. like, shes patient and waiting on him to tell her when hes ready!! thats so so sweet.

-christ the parents talking about 'PEELING IT LIKE AN ONION. AND EXAMINING REMAINS' of ghosts RIGHT INFRONT OF DANNY.

-'why am i so depressed and angry all the time!!' DANNY YOURE 14. i mean it IS a ghost this time, but...

-579$ top?? VALERIE NO ITS NOT EVEN CUTE IT DOESNT EVEN GO WITH THAT OUTFIT AAAA. tho this ep is called shades of gray..VALERIE FOCUSED EP FINALLY????! *THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE* I already knew about red huntress from my redesigns, but I didn't exactly know what that entails or how/why, so, it's fun to see the Origins.

-ghost pubby! ghost pubby!!!!! why is the dog a ghost?? the implication that the company had guard dogs and got rid of them...what did they DO. is it just the unfinished business?? of not having that toy it was looking for?? god I hope so.

I feel SOOO bad for valerie tho, my god. her friends are shunning her for what, because her dad lost her job and she had to move??? horrible. (and the fact the dog wrecked the moving van too...) I also love how 'from wisconsin' on the package was an IMMEDIATE RED FLAG FOR ME. WISCONSIN=EVIL NOW. vlads so petty.

-it took valerie like 5 mins to get the hang of hunting ghosts and shes already a much bigger threat than his parents tbh. who've been trying and studying this for years. and a more valid reason <3 love her shes so cute and cool. new daughter alert.

-'i should do SOMETHING to help valerie' no shit danny???

-'who is that, awesome outfit!' -top gay sam moments. i was going to say. before it immediately cuts to sam kissing danny LMFAOOO. don't think I like that, it puts tucker in a weird third wheel position... the next ep involves them holding hands and blushing when danny's cold...URGH No. not a fan ngl. the trope of 'if theres a girl in a trio she has to end up with one of the two guys!!'

-right as I say that they take it to extremes!! and ember shoots him with a love ray gun that makes him OBSESSIVE OVER SAM. AND SHE TAKES HIS HANDS AND SAYS 'YOU DONT FEEL THAT WAY ABOUT ME, I DONT FEEL THAT WAY ABOUT YOU' and her saying she doesnt want to be together like this. and tucker saying 'i always knew you two would get together!!' dont manifest it tucker please. the show pushing for it so hard makes me not want it KSHKJKJD I KNOW its probably canon. it sucks though. im a hater.

-vlad just LURKING AROUND THE SCHOOL GIVING VALERIE GIFTS ASJKDHKJ YOU WEIRD PETTY OLD MAN GO HOME!!!

-EMBERRRRR YOU WILL REMEMBERRRRRR . this is the one thing I kinda remember from when I was a kid EMBERRRRR ilu. top 10 cartoon bops. sams being a hater. popular things are popular for a reason. mr. lancer also being a hater. also everyone wearing her color scheme ..its a really good look, the purple, black, and minty color...

-penguins exist in the ghost zone. confirmed.

-EMBER JUST SHOWING UP AT A RANDOM HIGHSCHOOL TO PLAY?? UNANNOUNCED, MID DAY??? girl get a tour schedule. make some money or smth damn. I know shes probably doing it for the power boost but. lord. anyway if your show doesnt have a concert scene/ep, is it even valid.

-fellas is this gay. (she uses a GRAPPLING HOOK TO SHOOT OUT THE WINDOW AFTER SEEING AN EMBER VAN GO BY RIGHT AFTER THIS SHOT)

-hey, she had an undercut at some point!! my redesign!!! was accurate!! in..a way

-I feel like danny has a lot of pent up aggression ngl, him being heartbroken about sam and immediately going IM GONNA GO TAKE IT OUT ON EMBER. I mean she needs to be stopped I guess But. jazz has the right idea he needs therapy and a HEALTHY outlet.

-tucker singing > my singing

-girls cant be gamers -tucker and danny sexist moments. her being chaos in the game OWNED.

-TUCKERS HAT IS A BERET??? I THOUGHT IT WAS A BEANIE. SAM CALLED IT A BERET. WH.

-it was actually nice of lancer to let danny retake the test, and he go to play games again. smh. epic cringe gamer moments compilation. and driving him home!!! I actually like him as a character. anyway teachers like lancer are SO appreciated. I was failing middle school because of mental problems, and felt so dumb and got embarrassed by teachers who would just get onto me instead of bothering to ask what the real problem was, but when I was taking my ged classes I had a wonderful teacher who kept reassuring me that I was smart, and I got honors!! danny is SUCH a little shit to him (understandable, 14, but) but seeing them getting along better and danny putting in effort. SO CUTE. THATS MY SON, STUDYING HARD!!!! and being so PROUD OF HIMSELF!!! 91!!! BITCH!!! A- is STILL AN A!!!

-'why dont they ever realize thats me in a dress' mr lancer i am CRYING. i realized.

-technus being my ghost grandpa who cant game asking tucker for help. bless his heart. his out of date old ppl lingo circles back to being endearing <3 tucker not recognizing him despite the like, lack of any kind of serious disguise...I do love their lil in-game outfits....sam being the tank rules. I like technus' spider design also. more characters need to be giant freaky spiders, imo.

-finding your gf a new host because she cant maintain her ghost body outside the zone? amazing. using jazz as the host? ILL KILL YOU. jazz immediately accepting a ride home from a guy she just met and letting him know where she lives. letting him IN THE HOUSE??? nooo girl no lets use common sense </3

-sooo cringe the parents were like 'good job for spying on your sister' tho wtffff. doesnt matter if hes a bad guy, thats fucked. everytime these parents BREATHE im like. these are MY kids now <3

-BAD LUCK BEING A THEME OF THE 13TH EPISODE. thats super fun. johnny 13 being his name is so. iconic. your last name is a NUMBER? also goth tucker. I actually love the look. everyone looks good goth. 'the ladies love the eyeliner and onyx nail polish' sam you are sooo right every man needs to at least try those two things. im a lesbian and I agree. same, danny, your bff is gnc af

-LOVE kitty's design. and just, the concept of a ghost with a bike. couple goals, except yes stay away from jazz.

#danny phantom #sanchoyorambles #s1 is only 20 eps?#i can probably #finish within a week #i like binging shows asdf #ive been watching it all night #gonna work out now #dp thoughts

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jjyusmile · 4 years ago

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the boyz as european university students

notes: for european deobis! this is my imagination running wild with the help of @haechansbeas <33 not sure if anyone has done this before... just a little fun for everyone hehe :’)

warnings: mention of food and drink, mention of loneliness

sangyeon

- graduated from the university of barcelona and moved to the uk last year

- he is currently doing a phd in international politics at the univeristy of exeter

- he plans to move to geneva in switzerland eventually and become a south korean ambassador for the united nations

- he spends his weekends alone most of the time, taking long hikes and listening to music

- often goes clubbing and teaches his juniors the meringue dance after a few too many rum and cokes

jacob

- studies music technology at the university of toronto but is doing a year abroad at the norwegian academy of music

- allowed to take any electives he wants.. he chose lyrical spanish and dance theory

- misses his friends and dogs a lot -- plans to go home for christmas just to cuddle his brother and his dog

- time distance sucks what is the point

- but he is very much used to the cold weather

- at graduation, he is on track to win most caffeinated and most likely to star in a disney remake

younghoon

- his family moved to moscow when he was twelve just so he could get into the russian institute of theatre arts for drama

- has two dogs named kyung and woo

- plans to find a job in moscow after he graduates but wouldn’t mind going interrailing first before settling down

- wants to visit his friend juyeon so that he has a place to stay for edinburgh fringe festival

- aspires to star in his first korean drama as the male lead but will take any role he can get first

hyunjae

- he flew to milan to study musical theatre with aspirations of moving to new york and starring in a one man off-broadway show

- loves to be on stage but hated the theory work so he eventually dropped out

- fell in love and moved with them to a single bedroom in london, it didn’t work out

- now works as the assistant manager of a boba cafe by the london palladium and gets discounted theatre tickets through an usher he met during the chitty chitty bang bang run

- wears suits and carries around his badge to show his authority

- will probably move back to korea soon and audition to become an idol

juyeon

- moved to scotland when he was 16 to live with his mum’s best friend, now attends the university of edinburgh

- lives in a studio apartment that has a clear view of arthur’s seat on a sunny day out of his tiny window... gets a little lonely sometimes so he meal preps a lot

- studies classical literature and doing a dissertation on toxic masculinity in the epics of homer

- spends his time in clutter filled bookstores trying to find obscure novels

- has read war and peace so many times that the binding on his copy is unthreading

- no space for a book shelf but cannot push his desk chair under his desk because thats where he stores his collection

kevin

- he and changmin decided to move to paris together to venture the city of art… oh and love

- attends the university of paris to study child psychology with a minor in graphic art

- sits on his not-so-spacious balcony each morning with a cup of coffee and sketch book looking out onto the concorde waiting for his roommate to wake up

- sells his design prints on etsy under the username m0onscribblez so that changmin can’t find him and buy them all

- will go to independent art exhibitions in his free time and class it as “studying”

chanhee (new)

- got 4 distinctions in maths, economics, psychology and physics in school

- received an unconditional offer from 7 russell group universities but finally accepted an offer from the university of cambridge with a shoulder shrug

- studies a double honours in maths and economics; has been class president for three years and will accept nothing less than that

- but still personifies infp

- interns at cambridge university press as a marketing and finance assistant but could calculate his seniors under the table

changmin (q)

- rents a two-bedroom apartment with kevin and his dog, ghana

- he and ghana will often crash in kevin’s room while he’s up all night drawing

- studies art history at école du louvre and takes advantage of the free louvre tickets he gets to “treat” kevin to a day out “on him”

- teaches at the dance studio on the corner; will shout at students who do not get the choreo right after he’s already told them once

- meets his roommate for lunch every day at the same cafe next to notre dame where he orders the iced tea of the day… unless its hibiscus, we don’t do hibiscus

- drags kevin the horror-themed nights at the local cinema complex downtown

haknyeon

- attends leeds beckett university because they offer the best undergraduate degree in photography

- lives in a 10-person house but only gets along with three of them

- voted best smile at the union awards, he gave the prize toothbrush to his housemate and they moved out because they were offended

- often takes advantage of the student night at the clubs in town every monday

- dance leader of the b-boying society

- will take a packed lunch and wander into the dales when he needs time away from chaotic uni life

sunwoo

- goes to the university of hull to study sport rehabilitation; everyone wants to sit beside him but he just wants to copy their notes

- captain of the football (soccer) team and won the national university championship two years in a row

- doesn’t go to the library because the only free desks by late afternoon are too close to the high story windows

- lives in a flatshare in town so that he’s closer to the nightlife

- friends with everyone and is often mistaken as ‘the guy who flirts’

- doesn’t attend lectures unless they’re after 2pm and will only go to campus on days he has football training

eric

- lives just across the river from sunwoo in lincolnshire

- spent most of his time playing animal crossing and failed his exams, found the university of lincoln through clearing

- studies business management but is considering switching to computer science if they’ll let him

- goes there just to compete against sunwoo in the humber games

- everyone wants to be his friend because he sounds like a cali boy... will be friends with anyone if they will listen to him

- has many dates lining up for the end of year ball but would rather take sunwoo

-------

A/N: we procrastinated the other day and came up with these university scenarios for the boyz and they just fit so well.. will probably also post this on my twitter lol

#deobiwritersnet #tbznetwork #the boyz #tbz #the boyz headcanons #tbz headcanons #the boyz as european students #the boyz scenario #tbz scenarios #the boyz university #tbz university #the boyz college #tbz college au

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suggiebabe · 4 years ago

Text

Some MHA Boys AND Girls Getting Jealous

A/N: Oh hey there ;)))))) POSTING 2 DAYS IN A ROW??? WHO AM I LOL!!! I’m not sure if I’d post tomorrow though cause I have some lessons to take care of!! But enjoy these headcanons (that’s literally all I do, I am so sorry LMAO)!!!! I’m doing boys AND girls, so lets get it! Its my first time writing for the girlies!!!!

Pairings: Kaminari, Uraraka, Tsu, Kirishima, Momo x Reader

Warnings: Slight Angst but with a happy ending

The two of you decided to go to the beach for the weekend because why not! You had some alone time together, and this was the perfect way to spend it

On the train ride there, it was going perfectly, no one you two knew was coming, so it was guaranteed that there would be no distractions

Or so you thought..

As soon as you got to the beach, you went to change into your bathing suit, and he went to go change into his

When you came out, he wasn’t ready yet, so you decided to sit on the bench outside of the restrooms

That’s when the familiar sight of green hair appeared in front of you

“Hey Y/N! Came out to enjoy the beach? Who are you here with?” he asked sitting down next to you

“Oh hey Deku! I’m here with Denki, we just thought it be fun to have a beach date!” you said, smiling at him, “who are you here with?”

“I came with Iida, the two of us were gonna get some training done out here. So wheres Kaminari? he asked looking around for the blond

“He’s still changing, he should be out in a little. Oh look! There he is!” You stood up and waved him down, as soon as he saw the two of you, he frowned

“Whoa whats up with that face?” Deku asked mildly confused as to why Kaminari wasn’t happy to see him

As he was walking towards you two, Iida also emerged from the bathrooms and called Deku over.

“Come on Deku! We don’t have time to waste! Lets proceed with out schedule!” Iida shouted

Deku said bye to you and Kaminari, and went on his way with Iida, and as soon as they left, Kaminari pulled you into a hug

“I can’t believe Deku saw you in a bathing suit before me... thats so unfair!”

You smiled at him and patted his head, “he may have seen me, but he doesn’t get to spend the day with me! Now c’mon jealous boy, lets go have some fun!” you said, pulling him towards the water

“I’m not jealous!” he said under his breath

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, now lets build the biggest sand castle ever!”

He laughed, and got to building

It was your 7 month anniversary, and the two of you had decided to have a movie night in Ochacos dorm since you couldn’t leave the campus

The idea made you two extremely excited since you haven’t been able to have quality time together in a while due to hero work

The school day was rather normal, except Ochaco noticed that during lunch, Shouto seemed to have a lot of your attention.

She would wrap her arm around yours, and you would pay little attention to it,continuing to talk with Shouto. The two of you extremely invested in the conversation you were having, so invested to the point where you didn’t even notice Ochacos glare towards Shouto

He got the hint, and slowly ended the conversation so there wouldn’t be any trouble, especially on your anniversary

After lunch, the two of you could hardly hold in your excitement for the rest of your classes.

After school, you both agreed to meet at her room at 7 pm to watch the movies you had picked out. You were in charge of the movies, while she was in charge of snacks

When you arrived, she welcomed you with a kiss, and the two of you got settled on her bed

“So what’d you pick out for us Y/N?” she asked, holding your hand in hers

“Well, I have a couple, but I wanted to watch this one first! Shouto recommended it to me, and it sounds really good!” you said squeezing her hands

Her smile turned into a frown, “So Shoutos your number 1 best friend now or what? You’ve been hanging out with his so much lately!” she said while pouting

You giggled at her cute expression, “Bun, are you jealous? Well fear not, because the reason I have been talking to Shouto a lot is because I know his taste in movies is so great! I wanted this night to be perfect for us!”

‘Oh.. really?” she said, her pout turning into a smile

“Yes really, now lets watch this movie, he said it’d have you on the edge of your seat the whole time!”

She blushed and then pressed play “I may have been a little jealous...” she said quietly

“I know” you said kissing her cheek

You and Tsu had always sat together for lunch, so when you approached her to tell her you had to go to the library with Ojiro to study for a quiz, she was a bit bothered, but she didn’t let it show

You promised her that you would walk with her to class when lunch was over, so that was a trade she was willing to make

Lunch without you was boring, but she was looking forward to the period ending so she can walk with you

When the bell rang, she waited for you, but you never came. After waiting a while she walked to class, she didn’t want to be tardy

1 minute before the bell you and Ojiro came running into the room, with your stuff in your hands, you two laughed as you went to sit at your desks

To say Tsu was bothered would be an understatement. Did you really forget to meet with her? Did she really not cross your mind?

Your mind was so occupied with the quiz, that you had completely forgotten about walking with Tsu. You looked at her, and made eye contact, but she quickly broke it, looking down at her desk. Your heart ached

After class you approached her and began profusely apologizing

“Tsu! I’m so sorry! I completely forgot about our agreement!” you said pulling at her hand

She looked at you with a frustrated look in her eyes, “was Ojiro really that much more entertaining? How could you forget about your GIRLFRIEND?” she said frowning, but she didn’t pull away

You squeezed her hand, “Tsu, Ojiro wasn’t on my mind at all! It was this stupid quiz we had to take... I completely forgot about anything else.. I would never think about anyone more than I think about you, silly!”

She smiled a bit, “Okay, well then prove it. After school, my dorm, movies and cuddles!”

You smiled at her cuteness, “alright alright alright, if that’s what it takes for you to forgive me, then I’ll give it to you”

She kissed you on the cheek and you both walked to hero training, tonight was going to be fun

Of course you two are workout buddies, that’s how your relationship started in the first place!

The two of you agreed to workout after school in the dorm gyms to distract yourselves from the upcoming finals exams

After school, the two of you came up with a schedule to meet up an hour after school ended to walk to the gym, and get some work done

Everything went according to plan, and the two of you were able to get to the gym before anyone else

You and Kirishima don’t really workout together, but you workout in the same room, so it kind of made sense

You two started your own workout routines, and it kept you both pretty busy.

His routine differed on certain days, and today's workout seemed to take a bit longer than it usually did, so you decided to do another one of your workouts, a new one

This routine had some things you hadn’t done before, so you had trouble with a few of the steps, but got the hang of it for the most part

Except for 1. Pike push ups.

You had tried to get Kirishimas attention, but he was so immersed in his own routine, he failed to hear you calling for his help

Lucky for you, Bakugou had just entered the gym, so you decided to ask him for help

After some argument, he finally agreed to teach you how to do it

“It’s just a push up, except you have your ass in the air, stupid” he said showing you his form

While the two of you were interacting, Kirishima looked in the mirror and saw you with your butt in the air next to Bakugou and immediately went to see what was up

By the time Kirishima was walking towards you guys, Bakugou left, and you were able to focus on yourself.

As you were in position, you looked up to find your frowning boyfriend looking down at you

“What was that?” he asked crossing his arms

“Kiri, Bakugou was just showing me how to do some pike push ups, nothing weird” you said crossing your arms “I tried to get you to help me, but you were too busy..” you said pouting

“Awh babe, I’m never too busy for you, just come tap on me next time, and I’ll help you for sure!” he said giving you two thumbs up

You smiled at him, and nodded “alright, but you better always be prepared!”

“I will, I will...” he said sitting down next to you, “So these pike push ups..”

It was midterms time again, and you had asked Momo for some help sine your English grade was SUFFERING!

Her being the lovely girlfriend she is, accepted your proposal happily since it was also just an excuse for the two of you to have some time together

Too bad for the both of you though, because other people in class heard, and immediately started asking for Momos tutoring as well

She couldn’t refuse, because she wants the best for everyone, and you were fine with that!

Time skip to after school when you were all walking to her dorm together

Mina was holding your arm and the two of you were talking about a new anime that had just come out

When Momo saw the two of you practically glued together and laughing with each other, she felt a jab in her heart, but she decided to ignore it

During the study session, you and Mina kept talking about the anime, and Momo was getting kind of fed up with the lack of attention you were giving her

“Excuse me, (Y/N) and Mina, could you two please pay attention? This chapter is important..” she said sternly, with made you both shut up right away

After the study session, you approached Momo after everyone had left

“Hey, are you ok? You sounded a little mad back there...” you said while playing with your thumbs on her bed

She sat next to you and grabbed one of your hands to hold, ”I apologize for my actions, but I guess i just got a little jealous over how close you and Mina were..”

You looked up at her surprised, “Oh my goodness! Momo I’m sorry! I didnt realize!” you said while going to hug her

She hugged you back and the two of you fell back onto her bed

“Cuddles?” you asked in hopes to make it up to her

“Cuddles.” she said squeezing you tighter

Another A/N: Hey guys! Sorry some might be a little longer than others, I just had more ideas for that character! Today I discovered that my computer is a little waterproof after spilling a whole cup of water over it! Thank u computer gods for letting me write this post!

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princeanxious · 5 years ago

Text

The Royal Librarian- Chapter 1

Chapter 1- “The Road to Perfection is Destructive.”

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Future analogical, future sidelines royality, sidelines established dukeceit, background remile

Word Count: a little over 3k

Warnings For This Chapter: Virgil’s got anxiety and is a bit self depricating, brief mentions of panic attacks, Virgil stays up and works himself for so much longer and harder than is healthy for a normal person in one session, boi highkey overthinks a ton when he’s not occupied. Don’t work yourself for 24 hours straight like Virge does, it’s not good for you.

Minor notes on Virgil’s mental state in this fic: Virgil has ADHD(as reflected by my own life experience) that shows up in different ways here and there, and he suffers from RSD(Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria) which drives Virgil’s need to be perfect or fail till he damn near collapses from exhaustion, which also just feeds into his chronic anxiety. Thats all for now!

Chapter one(you are here!)|Chapter two(coming soon!)

Bonus stuff:

-the Rough Library Layout

[[MORE]]

Quiet. Such a word was practically synonymous with Virgil’s existence. The young adult practically grew up in silence, sought quiet spaces out like a moth drawn to a flame. And like a deer spooked by a snapping branch, he often fled from loud groups larger than three. He had been a quiet child, content to lose himself in any book he could get his hands on, reading for hours in any quiet atmosphere he could find. Alone, and content because of it.

So it was really no surprise he picked up a local library apprenticeship when he’d turned fifteen, and was a well-versed and well-read librarian by age nineteen. He had his lifelong friend Patton to thank for making him apply alongside hundreds of others to the opening position of the Royal Astra Family’s castle Librarian position, a year later. And, to be fair? He’d only applied because he’d been sure his resume would never have been seen, let alone selected, if only to simply placate his best friend’s excited begging.

He didn’t account for Patton’s connections as the Royal Head Cook to shift that margine of possibility to reach at least being seen. Though Patton chalked it up to the fact that he’d always talked about Virgil around the royal family anyway, long before the position had needed a replacement. It seemed to be just Virgil’s luck that ‘Virgil’ just happened to be a very uncommon name.

The panic attack that followed after he received a letter that his resume had been selected alongside a select few others for further evaluation had been a rough one. Still, he held out hope that his perceived inexperienced youth would save him, the stress and responsibility of such a serious job couldn’t be trusted with some ambitious kid like him, could it?

And, besides, it’s not like Patton’s constant praises carried that much weight, right? That's just how Patton was, a personified ball of sunshine! It was why Virgil was never surprised to hear Patton mention the royal family and staff by name on accident, or mention a silly story involving them in private, he’d clearly become close to them as the Head Cook. Though, the more he thought about it, he realized that.. Well, it’s not like the royal family had known Patton as long as Virgil had. Patton could be too trusting, and tried to see good in everyone, and well, perhaps the royal family trusted his judge of character over just simple skills. And wasn’t it just peachy that Virgil was lifelong best friends with said ball of personified sunshine? (Not that he’d ever trade their friendship for the world, never. It was just Virgil’s problem that he could never seem to tell Patton no, huh?)

Eventually, a nerve wracking week passed before Virgil finally had his answer in the form of an acceptance letter hand-delivered and an accompanying uniform and granted permissions to traverse and move into the castle grounds, all ordered and signed by King Thomas himself.

Apparently, his suspicions over Patton’s influence had indeed won out.

Three days later, Virgil finds himself silently saying goodbye to the home he’d made on his own, not as terribly forlorn over the loss as he thought he’d be. The small cottage he’d been renting didn’t feel much like home to him, anyway, not like a library did. Still, there was a longing to hide from the large change crashing into his life, and thrice he’d hid under his covers and cursed his weak will against Patton’s puppy eye’d pout. Eventually though, he’d talked himself out of his panicked haze, just in time for his first shift the following day.

“I can’t believe I let Pat talk me into this.” The ravenette grumbled as he leaned to the side. Using his weight and momentum to shift the sliding ladder he was perched on, he slid closer to the next book he’d been reaching for.

“Become the castle’s new Librarian! It’ll be fun, he said! It’ll help sooth my anxiety to work with even more books and even less people, he said, the head cook who works with at least 20 other staff each hour to maintain a steady meal plan for the entire castle staff daily!” The little librarian huffed to himself, resignation seeping out with each controlled breath.

His first day hadn’t been an easy one, and though he hadn’t expected it to go smoothly, he certainly hadn’t expected it to become such a mess. It wasn’t his first time working as a librarian, but leave it to good ol’ Virgil to let life make his days as eventful as possible!

From the moment he woke to the time he had his lunch break, not that he would actually willingly take a break nor need one yet, the day had been.. busy, to put it lightly.

It’d been storming when he woke, and though he was on time to get ready and leave, he’d only realized that his umbrella had broken the month prior. It had left him to make a twenty minute dash in the pouring rain when he found no other options.

He was plenty grateful for a bathroom stationed just inside of the library building entrance, where he hurriedly rushed inside to change out of his soaked attire. He’d been smart enough to pack away his official Royal Librarian uniform into a water resistant bag with a few additional dry essentials, and let his common clothes get soaked instead.

In a short six and a half minutes, Virgil was changed and mostly dry, though there was little he could do about his damp hair aside from comb his fingers through it. With his wet clothes packed away, he made it into the library on time to begin his first very long shift.

He’d already been sworn into secrecy when it came to occasionally dealing with the royal family’s history and artifacts in the future, and with his first and hopefully one of very few ever meetings with King Thomas out of the way, he was officially the new Royal Librarian. And now, also the only. As he was told in no certain terms that the last had retired and fucked off into obscurity before anyone had realized that the library had been left in disorganized chaos.

The old coot had apparently made his own system for everything, and hadn't bothered to write any of it down. From sorting sections to assigning books to genres, none if it clear and often very, very unorganized.

Virgil’s first big task was to comb through the entire damn building and use a new system, one that made sense. He was to reorganize every book and every section, using the appropriate genres and sorting. This way the royal family could actually functionally use the library and not waste time sorting through chaos.

This was where Virgil found himself three hours later, on the verge of a minor mental breakdown as he’d just barely sorted an eighth of the books on the main library floor into the Dewey Decimal system.

He’d had plenty of empty tables at the beginning of his journey, and right now every single one had some few stacks of books on each, labeled accordingly. Aside from his muffled ranting and the pattering of rain, the library was relatively silent.

It was odd, being alone in such a gigantic library. It almost reminded him of home.

He paused for a brief moment, having set down the final few books taken from the bookshelf he’d been working on. He’d gone through just one row of 6 bookshelves, and had 7 rows left to go, and that was just barely counting putting books back in the previous shelves as he went. A whine left him as he realized just how long this project was going to take.

“Fucking fuck.”

Somewhere between the second row and the third, Patton had stopped by to check in on Virgil. He found him hard at work sorting the fiction section on the left side of the building, tables half forgotten as Virgil attached unobtrusive non-damaging number labels to each and every book. Stacks of books lay carefully placed on the floor against each shelf, seperated by label and lack of label.

“You already look so at home, Virge!” The head cook whisper-shouted, though the sentiment was not necessary as the only other being in the library was the librarian himself.

“Yeah yeah, hush you. I’m a bit too swamped for ‘I told you so’s at the moment. So, what's up?” Glancing up at the taller man, Virgil briefly noted a small package wrapped in cloth was held in his hands.

“Can you spare a minute to eat?” Patton giggled, but Virgil knew better. He’d known Patton since they were kids, it wasn’t a question. Or a decision to be made. With a sigh, he placed the book he was holding in its place before turning to the cheery cook. “Yeah, I can.”

“How’s the kitchen today?” He asked lightly, having eaten the light meal quickly in order to get back to sorting. Patton hadn’t commented, nor had he been shooed away when Virgil began sorting again. He contently sat out of the way to finish his own lunch, his original goal having been accomplished.

“Oh! It’s going great today, honestly. Not too many mishaps from the newbies today either, so that's a bonus! And well, you know, making mistakes is in human nature but, they’re learning so quickly, I’m so proud of them! They’ll be taking my place by fall, just you wait and see! And, well, Roman stopped by earlier to swipe some snacks for Prince Logan, his brother, and himself. You know, the usual.” Patton chuckled, and if Virgil had looked, he’d seen the besotted look Patton always had when he talked about the head knight of the prince, he’d seen it a hundred times and was bound to see it a hundred or so more.

“Oh, speaking of,” Virgil butted in playfully, “I’ll finally get a chance to meet this knight and shining armor you’ve been swooning over for over a year now, huh?”

He watched Patton’s freckled face flush bright red, sputtering and then coughing on his mouthful of food. Virgil just cackled delightedly, stepping over to give Patton a few hard pats on the back to be sure his friend didn’t choke.

He laughed again when Patton gave him a pout and a soft “You’re so mean to me, Virge!” Eventually Virgil was able to placate Patton with a gentle hug, and the cook was sunshine and smiles again.

A finished lunch break later had Virgil finally sending Patton off, back to the warm bustling kitchens in the main castle building while he moved on to the next portion of his task.

He quickly found the steady back and forth rythme soothing. Pick a few books up, put them away. Pull a few books out, sort it by number as per their section of genre, set it in the right place. It was a blessing to find that there was just enough of a consistency to the previous plan that he could find up to five to six books in the same category in a row, and each set of books could be similar in subject, usually ending up just one section away. Often was the wayward book that found itself out of place, though he had assumed that these were often books just placed back haphazardly considering their subject patterns.

Often the most scattered and random books had ended up being of a few select categories. Without fail, he found that it would end up being a book on Space and Astronomy and/or Mathematics, in-depth Anatomy of Plants and Animals, young adult Fantasy Adventure novels, or Horror novels. It was.. Sort of odd, how there had been no section for each and all of these books, and yet there were so many evenly scattered. Perhaps that had been on purpose then, not haphazardly placed. But why?

Too busy to think deeply about it, he designated spots fitting each book type, and decided he’d figure out what he’d do with the puzzle later.

It was 6 pm by the time he’d finished the fourth row, and Patton had stopped by briefly to check on his best friend. He watched Patton’s merry expression drop some, concern seeping in as he took in his best friend’s progress.

“It’s almost 6:30, Virgil. Have you had another break yet?” He asked, watching his best friend continue moving back and forth. “Aren’t you tired? It’s been a little under 12 hours at this point, kiddo.. dontcha think it’s time to call it for the day? I mean, you’re already halfway there!”

“Library hours, at least Librarian work hours, don’t end till 9. And yeah, I guess I’m a little tired? But I’m in the zone, Pat. You know how I get when I’m in The Zone. If I stop now, who knows how long it’ll take me to finish sorting the other half?” Virgil rambled, half distracted and still trying to keep a vice grip on his concentration. “And besides, King Thomas said he’d be checking in on me tomorrow.”

“But Virge, you know he doesn’t expect you to have it done in one day. Thomas isn’t like that! That’s why he gave you a whole week to settle in, so you could move into the Library’s living quarters-which you haven’t done yet, might I add!- and get the library situated.” Patton stood stiffly, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. Virgil was as stubborn as he himself was when his mind was made up.

“Look, Pat.. just, I’m sorry. You know I hate to worry you. I’ll try to stop at 10, go home and get some rest, and tomorrow i’ll move my stuff into my new home here. And, i’ll take a break from sorting for a few hours. Okay?” Virgil reached out, taking Patton’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He let Patton pull him into a tight hug, and didn’t resist when Patton briefly rubbed at his tense shoulders.

“Okay. Just, take care of yourself, Virge, okay? If I find out you stayed out an hour later than 11 pm, you’re gonna be in big trouble mister!” Patton giggled, lightening the mood the way he knew how.

“Yeah, yeah, hear ya loud and clear, Dad.” He watched Patton beam at the nickname, and moments later he watched Patton disappear behind the library’s main entrance door as his friend left him be, reassured. Virgil gave a heavy sigh, looking down guiltily at the stray book clutched in his hands.

“Let’s just hope ‘trouble’ just means a week of disappointed reprimands like last time…”

Hours later, Virgil’s head jerked up from his sorting as a father clock somewhere in the library dinged, signalling 10 o'clock. Biting his lip, he walked to the front doors and examined his options. He found he could lock the library from the inside, and pulled down the shutters. Briskly, he moved to cover each large window with their thick drapery, finding the adorning cloth thick enough to keep the low artificial light from seeping out. He dimmed the inner library lights so the library looked closed, but otherwise the building was still functioning from within.

Unless someone else had keys to the doors of the library, no one would know that the librarian was still stationed and working within. No one could see out, and more importantly, no one could see in. Which meant that Virgil was safe from Patton’s wrath if the Cook came to check on him, temporarily at least.

“Fuck, Patton’s gonna be so mad..” He muttered to himself, leaning against the librarian’s desk with a deep sigh. He’d briefly admired the beautiful desk earlier in the day, from the intricate carving to the beautiful dark mahogany. It would serve him well in the future, he hoped, after the thorough ‘grounding’ he knew he was going to get from Patton.

He shook his head to free his thoughts. There was no sense in getting in trouble and feeling guilty about it if he didn’t do anything to learn from in the first place. It was time to get back to work, and if he was lucky, he’d finish the main body of the library by the time his next shift started. Then, he could try and play it off, like nothing had ever happened, he’d just keep Patton out of the library till tomorrow to hide his finished work.

11 pm came and passed as he worked, and when he looked next at the clock, he found it was nearly 4 am. Tired but determined with only one row left, Virgil trekked on with a new vigor. All-nighters weren’t anything new to Virgil, not in the slightest. He was a creature of the night who rarely got a full night's rest to begin with. And sure, it was rare he worked his body so hard and for so long, but fixations were hard to break once in The Zone, it’s not like he could feel it past the hyperfixation haze.

Patton had often told him off for it when they were young, but as time passed they’d come to realize that’s just how Virgil was. Laying down did nothing to lure his mind to sleep on even the tiredest of nights if his insomnia had something to say about it. Better that he used the extra time to be productive, rather than spend 6 hours tossing and turning in bed, numbers and thoughts crowding in his head, and only getting up more restless than before. Patton often just tried to ease the aftermath if he could help it.

Sliding the last book into place was like sliding a final puzzle piece into a massive puzzle. The triumph of accomplishment had never felt so good, not like this.

Though, he quickly found himself aimless not 10 minutes later, seeking errors to fix and lost books to give a home. His brain wasn’t ready to let go of it’s fixation just yet, but as each second crawled by, he found himself recentering into the real world.

His body ached, and he was exhausted. His stomach gnawed at him weakly in hunger and his eyes watered from staring unblinkingly for so long. He eyed the chair behind the librarian’s desk, his desk now, he reminded himself.

“Screw it.. The Library’s sorted enough, I've got the rest of the week to make it perfect. A ten minute nap won’t hurt, right..?” He huffed to himself as he pulled the window curtains open one by one. Shuffling over to the main library doors, he unlocked them and raised the shutters. Soft morning sun rays fluttered into the connected windowed hallway just beyond the doors. He smiled at the tiny beauty of life, spotting the main library windows letting in the same comforting, dappled light.

Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, he plopped into the chair at his desk, finding it soft and comforting. Leaning forward, he rested his head on his arms, and under the fluttering morning light, succumbed to sleep’s gentle embrace.

Unknowing of the rude awakening that was soon to come.

Chapter two

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