#ooooh she hollering

[andysorbit]

Praise & Worship Pt. 1 (M)

Churchboy!Doyoung/Camboy!Doyoung x Churchgirl!reader

Warnings: soft dom!Doie, corruption, unprotected sex (be smart), guided masturbation, overstimulation, dirty talk, big dick Doie agenda ayyyeee, slight angst, phone sex, daddy kink, fingering, squirting, spitting (I'm a spit slut leave me alone)

Word count: 4.8k

Now, this is a black church ya'll. This aint your memaw Doris' church nah sir we bumpin' them ol' negro spirituals

Thank you to @brownsugarbaybee for making me these really cool banners. Kari, your username inspired the username in this fic :,)

I also would like to thank @multifandomslxt, @calibabii21, @agust-june for being my number one churchboy!Doie enablers.

Doyoung's Playlist (because why tf not??)

The Battle is the Lord's - Yolanda Adams

I Won't Complain - Rev. Alyn E. Waller

My Redeemer - Nicole C. Mullen

Mary, Don't You Weep - Aretha Franklin

I Love the Lord - Whitney Houston

DaddyDoie's Playlist

Brown Skin - India.Arie

Untitled (How Does it Feel) - D'Angelo

Til the Cops Come Knockin' - Maxwell

TiO - Zayn

Sweetest Taboo - Sade

praise

/prāz/

verb

To express warm approval or admiration of.

-

worship

/ˈwərSHəp/

verb

To show reverence and adoration for.

Church is going swimmingly as it always does and you're happy to be seated in the sanctuary.

You, being an eager early bird, found your way to your seat in the front as you always do. Being the first daughter of the church is no easy feat but you love it and you love coming to give thanks to your Lord and Savior.

Adult life isn't always kind to you but you still come, rain or shine, to give honor.

Doyoung's been coming to this church since you were both eleven. His parents almost joined but they said your church was "a bit loud". That was okay. The black church experience isn't meant for everyone.

Doyoung, on the other hand, had stars in his eyes and with his parents' consent, he joined that very day; even signing up for the ministry van to come and pick him up.

Doyoung began singing in church a year after joining and he's loved it since the start. Starting off in the choir and working his way up to doing solos.

You two have grown close over the years and you've both grown up to be fine examples of how anyone can flourish when they stand in the love and dignity of the church of God.

Doyoung chose to sing The Battle is the Lord's this Sunday and as usual, he kills it.

Your father's sermon is about temperance and he preaches with his usual flair as he always does.

"Now we men know how it is when you see a beautiful woman! We know! We get a lil... 'ooooh she's a fine lookin' woman!' We get all beside ourselves sometimes! Same thing for you ladies! It's human nature, y'know. God didn't give you a single thing by accident. Ain't no sin in how you feel but it's what you do with those feelings!" he says; stopping for a minute to wipe his brow with his handkerchief.

The congregation agrees with hoots and hollers and old women fan themselves. You feel alive.

"The thing is that you can't just give yourself to everyone. Fall in love first! I tell these young kids all the time! You may think it's no big deal but it is! It's difficult to resist while you're in the thick of it but you'll be glad you stuck to the word of God and waited!"

Your eyes wander over to the the choir and you seek out Doyoung. His suit is crisp as usual and he looks amazing. His eyes meet yours and he wiggles his eyebrows.

"Like my man Doie for example! Fine ladies man, right? Of course but he's waiting for his wife. He's not paying you girls no mind because he knows the Lord is paving the pathway for his wife... hopefully my daughter- no lemme stop- but who knows? I don't! Hallelujah!"

Doyoung drops his face into his hand and laughs then looks back over at you and gives you a playful frown. You roll your eyes.

"And I know my baby likes him because everytime I mention him, she just gets that look on her face- look at her ya'll! Then those eyes get to rollin' and she just- that's my son-in-law, y’all! Hallelujah!"

"Daddy, would you stop?" You say and wave your hand at him.

Doyoung smiles at you and rolls his eyes.

When service ends, you find your dad, "You better leave me alone, old man," You say with a smile.

You father laughs and touches your face, "I don't speak on things unless I'm sure about it," he shoots back.

He's being pulled away for prayer and you greet everyone as your eyes search for Doyoung.

He finds you, as he always does, and with a warm embrace he asks you, "Did I give you chills?"

You reply, same as always, "I'm still freezing," You reply.

You pull back to look at him and he returns your smile, "You're coming back to Sister Martha's for lunch?" You ask.

"Of course I am. I'm gonna stop by and see mom and dad first but yeah. I'm coming," he says.

Mother Annie, whose mind is going, comes up to take your hand and Doyoung's, "How's my babies?" she asks.

"Oh, we're great! How are you feeling?" You say with a smile.

"I'm doing fine as always. Doie, you need a ride home, baby?" she says.

Doyoung smiles, "Oh, Mother Annie, you won't believe it but I learned how to drive! I have my own car and everything!" he says as he smiles but you see the sadness in his eyes. Everyone loves Mother Annie and it's sad to see her forgetting so much.

"Oh Jesus, I'm gettin' old," she sighs.

"But you're still a beauty," he chuckles.

She hugs him tightly then she hugs you, "He'd make a fine husband," she says as she shuffles off.

Doyoung gives you smirk, "She's not wrong," he says teasingly.

"I wouldn't know," You say sassily as you look him up and down.

Doyoung is an everybody kind of guy. Everybody loves him and everyone wants to be his wife or his in-law. He was a bit shy when he first started coming but he's grown into himself in many ways.

Your day eases by nicely and lunch is a fun gathering as it always is. Good food, good chats, and good prayers. Sister Joyce bakes a Louisiana crunch cake and as usual, threatens to spank Doyoung if he comes back for a third piece.

All is good and easy.

The week eases by and Saturday night rolls around like clockwork. You take your time preparing your clothes for church and then make a pitcher of peach iced tea that you plan on dropping off at Mother Annie's house before church in the morning.

You unwind after a nice bubble bath and dress in an oversized t-shirt and those feelings of yours bubble back up. Feelings of imagining what Doyoung's body would feel like against yours, of what it really feels like to be ravished.

Sometimes, there's a look in his eyes that you can't place and it's led you to believe that there may be a side to Doyoung that you've never seen and it gives you chills more intense than the ones he gives you in church.

On impulse, you ordered a pink dildo online a few weeks ago but your guilt is why you never even opened the packaging but tonight, your curiosity gets the best of you.

You look at it then put it back in the box.

It's a step.

You roll the idea of using it around in your head before firing up your laptop.

You started off with good intentions.

Really.

A simple Google search:

Is it a sin to masturbate?

Clicking between Christianity.com, GotQuestions.org, and reading answers and Bible verses on NeverThirsty.org for so long that you begin to wonder why the hell you should even possibly care anymore because it's all a mixture of yeses and noes.

Then comes the twist that makes you groan in defeat. The matter of lust. Can you even masturbate without lusting after someone?

You close the tabs and search for porn sites for something to watch. It's all anticlimactic. You expected more but... this is all a bit much.

A pop-up catches your eye:

DaddyDoie is live! Sign up to say hi now!

"Doie? Oh please," You scoff but you sign up and your username is BrownSugarPrincess. Is it stupid? Yes. 100% but you didn't sign up to seduce anyone or to attract any lascivious attention to yourself. You signed up because there's no way that's your Doie.

You confirm your account and you're redirected back to the livestream.

You shriek.

It is Doyoung.

Or maybe it's not. You can't see his face and the camera cuts off just at his neck and Doyoung definitely has a necklace exactly like that and those shoulders... there's no way that's Doyoung...

But it really could be...

You lean in closer to your laptop and take in his naked body with little regard to your previous research on where your soul will end up after doing a thing like this.

You slap your free hand over your mouth when he sighs, "BrownSugarPrincess. Cute name... You're my thousandth subscriber, sweetheart, so.. you've won yourself a surprise," he says softly as he strokes himself a little faster.

You'd recognize that soft, honey voice anywhere.

"Oh my God," You whisper

You watch his hand fist his cock and you're frozen; anchored in place by the sex dripping from his voice.

"I'Il send you a DM and you can tell me when you're available to claim your prize," he says slowly.

You type your reply:

BrownSugarPrincess: oh wow that's pretty cool... thank you but maybe give it to the next person? I don't think I should...

Doyoung chuckles devilishly, "Such a polite girl. It's okay, we'll talk after. I think I could change your mind."

You want to close the tab and toss your laptop across the room but you can't. His cross necklace sits so nicely around his neck and the fact that he's even still wearing it is obscenely attractive.

"God... please," You whisper. You're unsure of what you need God to do for you because more than the willpower to put your laptop away, you want Doyoung inside of you.

"I know what you want," Doyoung chuckles as his hand slows down. He's a tease.

Your hand is in your panties before you realize it and you softly touch your clit as you abandon all of your morals from earlier.

Doyoung stops stroking himself and lets his cock smack against his stomach with a heavy flop.

"Oh... oh my God," You pant as you stroke yourself a little faster.

You admire his girth and wonder for a moment how long it would take you to stretch around his cock.

He's fucking huge.

He gently runs his thumb over his throbbing tip and spreads his precum so slowly that you whine.

"Get a good look at it, baby," he sighs, "Do you think you could take all of this? How much do you think you could fit in your mouth before you start gagging on it?"

The comments are flooding in and you don't read a single one of them because how could anyone focus on typing with this indescribable being on their screen?

He chuckles as he wraps his hand around his cock once more, "You've been very quiet BrownSugarPrincess... or maybe I can just call you Princess? I bet you have the prettiest brown skin, sweetheart... I know why you're not saying anything... I know you're touching that pretty little pussy."

You buck your hips and the sound of his voice alone is enough to send you over the edge but you fight it off because you don't want this to end.

"I know you're soaking wet for daddy... In your bed with your hands between your beautiful thighs... stroking that soft, warm cunt... I know you're wishing I was there to stretch you out and fuck you like you're all mine... yeah, Princess... Daddy wants you to touch that pussy. Do that for me, baby."

Your tongue runs over your bottom lip and your fingers speed up, "Oh... fuck, fuck... fuck... fuck," You pant and you're so close and he knows it. He knows what he's doing.

He strokes himself faster and you match his pace. The moans that fall from his mouth are the most delicious sounds you've ever heard and wishing that you could feel them against your mouth, you lose the battle.

Your body trembles as you cum and soon his cum is shooting up his stomach and covering the back of his hand. His moans, slow and velvety, dance into your ears and soak your pussy even more. It's so much- too much and you could cry.

"That was so good, wasn't it?" he sighs breathlessly.

You nod and of course he can't see you but you nod anyway because he has you stuck on stupid.

"Okay... well... that's all for tonight. Thank you for coming... Princess, I'm gonna clean up and then l'll be talking to you," he says and ends the live.

You get up and clean yourself up too. The guilt kicks in as you step into the shower and you scrub your body so harshly that you think just maybe you've washed the sins off of you.

"God... please... forgive me. I'm so sorry. l'm so, so, so, sorry. God, cleanse me. Help me, Lord," You whisper over and over as you rinse the soap off of your body.

It doesn't feel like your soul is any purer but your skin is a little sore and that's a feeling that can distract you from the guilt in your chest.

You towel off once you're done and go back to your bedroom. You reluctantly check the site's notifications and you yelp.

DaddyDoie: Hello, Princess

It was sent five minutes ago.

You tap a reply; too eagerly.

BrownSugarPrincess: Hello

DaddyDoie: How are you this evening?

BrownSugarPrincess: I'm doing fine. How are you?

DaddyDoie: I'm great. Thanks for asking. How'd you find my livestream?

BrownSugarPrincess: I was kinda just looking around I guess. I tried watching porn but I didn't really find anything that was helping.

DaddyDoie: So you needed more and that's what sent you my way. That's cute. Really cute.

BrownSugarPrincess: So what's the surprise?

DaddyDoie: Well, you have two choices. A video call or a voice call.

BrownSugarPrincess: Um... maybe a voice call? I probably shouldn't though do it though.

DaddyDoie: And why is that?

BrownSugarPrincess: It's a lot to explain I think...

DaddyDoie: Maybe I should call you then. You won't have to type it all out if we just talk.

BrownSugarPrincess: Ok

Your reply sinks in and you panic but you don't have much time to wallow in it because the voice call prompt on the site pops up. You quickly grab your headphones from your nightstand and turn them on. You slip them on and answer,

You pick up, "Hi," You say softly.

"Hello, Princess," he says and there's no way this isn't Doyoung, "What's this conflict that's got you so stressed out, hm?"

"Well... I'm religious and... this is wrong. I shouldn't be doing this."

"Well... Princess, I'm probably not the best at steering people down a good path versus a bad one but... what do you want to do right now?"

"I don't know what I want."

"Oh, I don't believe that, Princess... I think you know exactly what you want but the problem is that what you want doesn't line up with what you believe is right."

You fall silent.

He chuckles, "How about this... how about you tell me what you're wearing and we can take this very slowly and if you want, you can stop me at any point,"

"O-okay... I'm... I'm wearing a towel. I just got out of the shower," You reply nervously.

"You tried to wash the sins off of that pretty body, didn't you, Princess?"

"Uh huh."

"So cute... how about you take that towel off and lay in your bed for me?"

You quickly remove your towel and toss it aside before getting into bed, "I'm uh... I'm in bed," You say shyly.

"And you're naked?"

"Y- yes."

"Say it. Tell me that you're in bed and you're naked."

You shiver, "I'm... in bed and... I'm... I'm naked."

"Good girl," he hums, "Now... I want you to touch yourself. Nice and slowly, baby, touch your pussy for me."

You hand glides down between your legs and dip past your folds, "Oh," You gasp as your fingers slowly tease your clit.

"Are you wet for me, Princess?" he asks softly. His voice shoots through your body like lightning.

"I'm so wet... so wet," You whine as your fingers move faster.

"Oh no you don't... you need to slow it down, sweetheart. You're not gonna cum until I tell you to," he says softly. You can tell he's smiling. You can always hear it in his voice.

You slow down reluctantly and whine, "Please," You beg.

"Here's what you're gonna do... I want you to take your other hand and slide two fingers inside that pretty cunt. Do that for me, baby," he tells you. His voice alone is too much and you gasp when he moans softly.

You do. Two fingers slide deep inside and you almost cum.

"I- I... oh... God... daddy," You whimper.

"That's a good girl. Just like that... fuck yourself with your fingers, baby. Fuck that tight little cunt for your daddy," he sighs.

You ease your fingers in and out of your wetness and the sounds are obscene as you fall deeper and deeper into this pit that his soft moans

"I can hear you fucking yourself, Princess. Daddy can hear you. You're so wet, baby... I hear those fingers moving inside that soaked cunt. I'd love to be there with you so I could taste you, baby, and suck on your clit until you're trembling for me... Would you let me eat that sweet little pussy? Huh, baby?"

You move faster and your body begins to tremble, "Yes... Daddy... please... please," You whine. Your voice is a desperate shrill now and colors swirl behind your eyes as you keep going.

"Chase it, baby. You can do it. It's right there for you. Isn't that right, beautiful?" he purrs.

"Uh huh... u-uh huh... daddy," You whimper.

"It's all yours, sweetheart. Come on," he says and his own voice goes a little higher. His moans shake you somewhere deep within and you wriggle desperately as your orgasm approaches.

Your eyes flutter shut and you whine as you come undone.

"Don't stop yet, baby... curl your fingers up for me," he says softly.

You immediately obey his orders and sigh, "I... I dunno if I'm doing this right."

"You'll know, sweetheart. Just take your time. If I was there with you, I'd show you exactly where to touch yourself. You wouldn't have to do a thing... just lay there and keep those pretty legs open for your daddy... I'd take good care of you... Make you feel so good I'd probably make you cry for me," he drags out as best he can and he sounds so fucking close but you know he's holding out until you find that spot he's talking about.

He was right, you do know the moment you find it because you convulse with a new rush of pleasure that overwhelms you. You press your fingers against that spot deep inside over and over, "Daddy" You mew out weakly.

"Didn't daddy tell you? That's my good girl. Keep going baby. Right there... just like that. Keep doing that," he says. His voice is deep and longing.

Your fingers speed up and you shake violently.

"Daddy!"

This orgasm is so intense that you almost forget how to breathe and you soak your hands, your thighs, and your sheets.

"That's my girl. Such a good girl, Princess. You did such a good job," he praises you breathlessly.

"I... the uh... I soaked my bed. Oh my God... I soaked my bed," You pant mindlessly and you don't even know how you're talking because it's as if you have no control over your mouth or really any other part of your body.

"Did you squirt?" he asks with a low chuckle.

"That's what it's called? I thought I pissed myself."

"No, baby. That isn't what happened at all... Was it that good?"

"Yes."

"Did I give you chills?"

Your blood runs cold, "Uh huh..." You croak.

A silence falls over the both of you for a moment.

"I um... I should go clean up," You say softly.

"I should too," he chuckles.

"Thank you," You say.

"Of course. Good night, sweetheart," he says with a soft laugh.

His voice could send you into another frenzy.

"G- good night," You say.

You end the call and slam your laptop shut, "Oh my God."

You pull off your headphones and stand up.

What a night.

Morning comes around too quickly and between your restless sleep and your general nerves about seeing Doyoung, for the first time ever, you're late for church.

Sadly, there's nowhere to hide. Your empty seat in the front row is like a stage as you quietly take your seat.

Impulsively, your eyes seek out Doyoung and there he is with his perfect posture and his teased back hair, watching you with an amused smirk. You give him a tight smile.

You don't hang on to a word your father says and save for the date scrawled sloppily at the top of your notebook, the page is blank.

Your mind replays the night before over and over. The darkness in his voice, the way he sounded as he came, the curiosity of how his cock would feel inside you; it haunts you and excites you.

You close your eyes and whisper a prayer but it's no use. Behind closed eyes, all you see is his naked body, the cross that hung lewdly against his bare chest, the cum that painted his stomach. Your eyes shoot open and Doyoung's staring at you.

"Are you okay?" he mouths.

You nod quickly and drop your head down. To look at him is to set you back from the inch of progress you've made since your last impure daydream and the knowing look in his eyes is far too much- prolonged eye contact will turn this jovial church service into your funeral.

You don't realize church is ending until your mother nudges you to stand for prayer.

As your father closes out with prayer, you look over at Doyoung who's looking right at you.

"Close your eyes," he mouths to you and you quickly obey.

When church ends your mother takes your hand, "Are you okay?" she asks.

"Yes, mama. I just didn't get enough rest last night. I'm sorry," You ramble.

"You missed my joke this morning but that's your loss," your father says as he greets you with a hug.

Like clockwork, Doyoung finds you and after warm greetings from your parents, he turns to circle his arms around you, "You must've had some night," he laughs.

"Oh uh... not really. Just had a restless sleep. Not much else," You ramble.

Doyoung is highly amused, "Oh, I'm sure, Squirtle," he laughs.

"What's that supposed to mean? What's so funny?" You ask nervously.

"Come with me, Y/n," Doyoung sighs as he leads you through the crowd. You both greet people as you go.

Mother Annie stops you both, "Hi, babies. How are you both today?" she asks as she kisses your cheek and then Doyoung's.

"We're good, Mother Annie. How are you today?" Doyoung asks.

"I'm fine, baby. Do you need a ride home?" She asks.

Doyoung's smile falters for only a second, "Well I was looking forward to seeing you so I could tell you that I have a car now!"

"Oh, you do? Now you can drive me to church!" she says with a laugh.

"Of course! You know I love you," he says sweetly.

"And I love you, baby, but you better practice that driving first. I ain't been in a car accident in a long time and I don't plan on getting into one with you," she laughs.

"Oh for sure," Doyoung chuckles.

She kisses you both again and goes on her way.

Doyoung takes you outside into the cool spring air, "Your skirt is on backwards," he says as he hooks his finger into your skirt and swiftly turns it around the right way.

"Oh... thank you," You say sheepishly.

"Look at me," he tells you softly.

You look at him and he leans in closer to you.

"Doyoung, I-"

"It's okay. You're overthinking this too much. Just let it be," he tells you softly.

"How can I? I feel awful," You say as you shake your head.

"You didn't feel bad while it was happening. In that moment, it was just us. You know I'm gonna marry you anyway so why are you so worried about it?"

Doyoung reaches out to touch your face and you lean into his hand.

"Because we're not married and... that's why it's wrong. You know that," You say, "We're not even dating."

Doyoung smiles a very smug smile, "Well, I thought we were... all those dinner dates and movie nights and staying up all night on the phone talking or just listening to each other breathe... excuse me."

"I'm sorry that was... I shouldn't have said that," You mumble.

"No, it's a good thing you did because we did sort of fall into it but we never said it and maybe that's something you needed to hear," he says.

The quiet is disrupted by the church doors opening. Everyone comes out chattering and you let the crowd separate you both.

It's a cowardly thing to do but you don't know what else to do.

When you get home, you undress and take a warm shower. The urge to wash away your thoughts is rampant and in the past twenty-four hours, if you showered every time you felt this way, you'd have no skin left and you'd never leave the shower.

You curl up on your sofa and sit in your own discomfort as you whisper prayers of forgiveness.

Doyoung lets himself in holding plates wrapped in foil and you can tell he's a little annoyed, "I figured you'd be here... Your mom said if you leave like that again, she's coming over with your dad's belt and I might tag along with my own belt but anyway... I have food and Sister Katherine made a cheesecake so come on," he says as he kicks his shoes off and makes his way to the kitchen.

You don't move from your spot on the sofa and he comes back out to hang his blazer on your coatrack by the front door.

"Come on, Y/n, get up. Let's go. If your morning went as badly as I think it did, you didn't even have breakfast so move it," he says as he loosens his tie.

Your ruthless thoughts are back and you imagine him tying your hands behind your back.

You shake your head, "You should go, Doyoung. I'm fine... I just need to be alone," You mumble.

Doyoung takes his tie off and hangs it with his blazer, "There's not a single thought you could have about me that I'd take offense to, Squirtle," he says and rolls his sleeves up.

There go the thoughts again. This time you imagine him forcing you to your knees and tracing the head of his cock across your lips.

"Doyoung, please," You sigh.

"I'm not leaving until you eat something. Besides, I've know you for... sixteen years now? Since we've known each other, we've never missed a Sunday lunch together. Just because you wanna be a butt head doesn't mean we have to break our tradition. You don't have look at me or even talk to me but you're gonna get your butt in that kitchen and you're gonna eat something," Doyoung stands over you and crosses his arms.

"Okay... fine," You say as you get up.

You both go into the kitchen and you sit down at your tiny table.

Doyoung washes his hands and removes the foil from your plate, "I got you a little bit of everything," he says and gets it going in the microwave.

You can't help but smile, "Thank you, Doie," You say softly.

He turns and smiles at you, "Y/n, you know this is no big deal, right? I mean any of this," he says as he shakes his head.

"Why did you start doing it?" You ask

Doyoung bites into a hush puppy, "I needed the money," he says casually.

"Doyoung, my dad said if you needed help to just ask," You chide.

Doyoung shakes his head, "Y/n, your dad is a great man but you don't think if I'm dipping into his wallet, it's not gonna change his idea of me? He wants me to marry you probably more than you and I want each other combined and I'd like to keep it that way. I don't plan to do this forever. It's just until I get a promotion at work and if you tell me right now that you don't want me to do this anymore, I'll find a different way to get by until then but I'm not asking your father for a dime."

The microwave beeps and Doyoung gets your plate out. He brings it over to you then puts his own plate in the microwave.

"But why? Like... I don't understand," You say quietly.

You watch him retrieve a fork from your silverware drawer and he crosses the kitchen to hand it to you, "It was the fastest and easiest solution to my problems. Between the bills and just living, it got to be too much and the student loans don't help and since I'm still paying those off, I was a bit over my head and... I know it was a bad choice to make but I was praying and nothing was happening and I crunched some numbers and the alternative was to either stop paying two bills or stop taking you out so I did what I had to do. Besides... it's twice a week for a little less than an hour and it was the only way I could still come to church and spend time with you when I want," he shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs again.

"Doie... oh my God," You sigh, "I could've helped out or we could've gone dutch at the very least."

"Oh, God forbid. It'll be a cold day in hell before I do something like that- what kind of a man do you take me for? he scoffs.

One thing about Doyoung is that some of the old-fashioned values that the elders of the church live by have stuck with him:

Never ask a woman for money.

Never drop a woman off and drive off before she lets you know she's on the other side of her door.

Never ever let a woman you're spending time with pay for anything- even if she invited you out.

The first time you ever offered to treat him to lunch, he all but fainted.

The microwave beeps again and he takes his plate put. You watch him bring it to the table then he gets two Mason jars from a cupboard.

"I made peach iced tea last night," You say, "It was for Mother Annie but I forgot it."

Doyoung laughs as he gets the pitcher from the refrigerator, "I really ruined your morning, didn't I?"

You nod as you pile a forkful of macaroni and cheese into your mouth.

Doyoung fills your glass and then sits down to fill his own. After placing the pitcher down, he reaches across the table and holds his hands out to you.

You stare at his hands and imagine them gliding over his body then over your own, "You didn't say grace," he chides.

"Oh... sorry," You murmur and set your fork down to take his hands.

"Dear Lord, thank you for this meal and thank you for the love that went into everything. Thank you for today and give Y/n a little extra love... she needs it," he says with a smile, "In Jesus' name... amen."

"Amen," You say and smile back at him.

Clearing the air is good and although it doesn't change the longing you feel for him, it makes lunch a hell of a lot easier for you.

"It's not a crime to let me take care of you sometimes. If you need to do what you have to do for now, I won't stop you but I could help... I could send tips an-"

"Anything you send me, I'm gonna take all of it- down to the very last penny and I'm gonna donate it to the church. Do you really want money you sent me for jerking off in front of a camera funding the children's outreach program? Huh, Squirtle?"

"Well, geez, Doie. When you put it like that... ugh fine. You're impossible," You huff.

"Well then don't," he says firmly.

You both eat in silence but the air thickens as your curiosity becomes more unbearable.

"Y/n, if you have another question, just ask me. It's okay,"

"How long have you been doing this?" You immediately ask.

"Two years... eight months and fourteen days," he replies.

"Do you like doing it?"

"Not really... I'm good at it though which... excuse my language is... kinda fucked up."

"You were always this good or... did you have to work up to how good you are now?"

"I used to be nervous but... I started pretending that I was just doing it for you... like you were the only person watching and it got easier... Just so you know, I've never even thought about touching another woman. You're the first person I've ever even gone that far with," he says with a sheepish smile.

"Oh?" You say perk up.

Doyoung nods, "I uh... I watched a few people and I did some research and stuff... that's how it's gotten to this point... how I got to get you off like that... I was so scared it wasn't gonna work," he chuckles and his hand creeps across the table to brush against yours.

"You were scared?" You ask incredulously as your fingers intertwine with his.

Doyoung laughs and brings his free hand up to his chest, "I thought you were gonna hang up," he says.

"Oh no... no, no, no. That was really good,"

"Really?" he asks

You nod and he gives you a sheepish smile.

"You know... I knew it was you the minute I heard your voice," he says.

"How?" You ask.

"That voice of yours... I could hear it once and know it anywhere. All of this mileage we've accumulated and all of the times we've stayed up talking on the phone and you really thought I wouldn't know?" he laughs.

"I think... maybe..." You trail off as you push around the bits of food left on your plate.

"Maybe you wanted me to know it was you?" he asks.

You nod. It's freeing.

"I kept thinking there was something wrong with me for feeling this way... like it's just repressed for literally years and I can't stop thinking that it's wrong to feel this way," You say as you look at him. It's easier now.

"I know it's a lot to try to grapple on your own but you have to decide what's good for you... sometimes what we want isn't always what's right but you have to decide what you're gonna do," he tells you with a reassuring smile.

"Yeah... that's the problem..." You mutter.

"So what now?" he asks.

You shrug, "I'm... not sure? I was hoping you could tell me," You say and you feel yourself shrinking inside.

"I say we eat some of that cheesecake and just enjoy the rest of the day," he says as he stands up.

It would be a lie if said you weren't disappointed. You really were anticipating something more.

He knows it and it's written all over his face.

"Okay," You say softly.

"Go find a movie for us to watch, I'll clean up and get the cheesecake," he says.

"I can help you," You reply.

Doyoung stands up, "I um... I think you should just go to the living room," he retorts.

"Why?" You ask.

"Because I keep thinking about bending you over the table but I'm trying to be a gentleman and do the right thing," he replies very calmly.

Doyoung clears the plates from the table and shoos you out of the kitchen.

You settle down on the sofa and turn the television. As you mindlessly cycle through movies and shows, your ears stay trained on Doyoung busying himself in the kitchen.

"Doie, forget the cheesecake, okay? Just come on," You call out.

Doyoung comes in and sits beside you, "So what are we watching?" he asks.

"I didn't know what to pick... I uh... I figured we could agree on something?" You say quietly.

Doyoung slinks his arm around you and eases the remote out of your hand, "Okay, Squirtle, let's find something together," he hums.

"Stop calling me that," You mumble.

Doyoung turns to look at you, "What? You don't like it?" he laughs.

"No... I don't," You huff.

"You thought you pissed yourself," he laughs a little harder.

"Doyoung, stop!" You sigh.

"Okay, okay, okay... I'll stop," he chuckles and presses a kiss to your temple.

You snuggle closer to him and rest against him as he passes movie after movie.

He lands on One Direction: This is Us and he laughs when you groan.

"Remember when you were obsessed with One Direction and sister Mary said the devil got ahold of you?" he asks with a chuckle.

"Yeah... it's because I wrote a fanfiction about Zayn and my dad told her," You groan.

Doyoung gasps, "That's why?"

"Yeah... it wasn't super smutty or anything but there was kissing. I didn't go far," You sigh.

"How far did you go, devil child?"

"Kinda far but not too far I guess?"

"Hm."

You pull the remote out of Doyoung's hand, "I can show you."

"Oh... you wanna show me?" he chuckles and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You sigh and bring his hand down to nestle between your thighs, "It started off like this," You whisper.

Doyoung's fingers find their way into your panties and he touches you softly as he holds your gaze, "Well that's a very good start," he says and leans in to kiss you slowly.

His fingers stroke you slowly and you want to believe that he couldn't possibly feel this good and have no experience but anything is possible at this point.

You moan into his mouth and he chuckles as he strokes his tongue against yours.

Your stomach flutters and you heat up as his fingers speed up and slow down.

"Doie... Doie, please... please, Doie," You whimper.

"Hm?" he hums as he slips two fingers into you, "Is this what you want?"

You writhe as he fucks his fingers into you, "Please, Doie."

Doyoung laughs and curls his fingers up to touch you just how he told you to the night before, "Oh, Y/n... Y/n, Y/n, Y/n... I'm trying so hard... to be a gentleman and you just won't let me," he purrs against your ear.

"I just want you... I need you. Please," You sob desperately as he pulls his fingers out of you and slides them into his mouth with a soft moan.

He is so obscene and drives you to the brink of desperate tears.

"You need me? For what, Squirtle? Huh?"

"I- I... please... please fuck me."

"I thought you wanted me to wife you first... what happened to that? Hm? Isn't this wrong?" he says as his fingers find their way back to your clit.

He slows his fingers down and you sigh in frustration.

"I don't care.. I don't care. I don't... I don't, I don't, I don't... just want you inside me," You beg and bring your hand down to cover his, "Please... I need it so bad."

Doyoung sucks a mark into your chest, "Don't start something that you can't finish," He hisses. His fingers speed up again.

"I want you, Doie, please," You whine.

Doyoung shifts and pushes you into a leaning position over the armrest. His hands squeeze your ass and you close your eyes in anticipation.

"You should see how good you look from here," he hums and pulls your panties down. His fingers slide over the curve of your ass to stroke your clit as you push back against his hand.

"Do you wanna know something else?" he whispers against your ear.

"Yes... uh huh,"

"I knew it was you when you joined my stream."

"H-how?"

His fingers slow down, "That's the same username you used when we snuck and made those Snapchat accounts when we were younger... remember?"

The memory ebbs back into your mind and you smile for a moment.

"You've always been my predictable girl... do you remember why you liked that username so much?"

You nod and squeeze your eyes shut as he slides his fingers inside to fuck you slowly.

"Tell me," he whispers.

"You- said I looked like brown sugar."

It was a joke you two had started. Your 'that's you' game. Finding things you thought were beautiful and yelling out "that's you!". It was an innocent game for years until it was forgotten. Doyoung, when you both were sixteen, had revived it in your kitchen while helping your mother bake Sister Janie a pecan pie when she was pregnant.

He whispered it as your mother was measuring brown sugar but this time it was different, as if he was confessing his true feelings for you and that was the day you knew you loved him.

Doyoung kisses your neck, "That's right... my beautiful girl... with the prettiest skin and the sweetest lips... I knew all along."

You wriggle and whine as his fingers continue their attack on you, "Please, Doyoung," You groan.

Doyoung pulls his fingers from your wetness and sucks them clean before opening his pants.

You turn to look at him and he pulls you up to turn and face him, "I wanna see your pretty face while I'm filling you up," he whispers as he eases you back against the space between the armrest and the back of the sofa.

You spread your legs so willingly that you're a little embarrassed.

Doyoung notices and smiles as leans down to kiss you, "That's my good girl. Don't be embarrassed... I want you just as badly," he says as he eases you out of your shirt.

Somehow, there's comfort in lying naked here in front of him and you know Doyoung feels it too.

"I love you, Y/n," he says sincerely; a look of timidity comes through and you touch his face.

"I love you too," You whisper.

A chill passes wildly through your body as you watch him unbutton his shirt. He shrugs it off and your eyes fall down to the cross on his neck. The guilt doesn't bubble up this time.

Doyoung looks down at you and you can see the reluctance in his eyes, "I wanna try something with you and I kinda wanna see your blind reaction to it because I really think you're gonna like it but I need you to trust me," he says softly.

You nod eagerly, "I trust you," You whisper.

He smiles and leans down, "Okay... open your mouth," he says softly and takes your chin between his fingers.

You part your lips and he spits in your mouth. Your breath catches in your throat as the sensation of feeling his saliva in your mouth raises goosebumps on your skin. You swallow with a soft hum.

"Oh... wow," You breathe.

"Right?" he chuckles and touches your face.

You nod in agreement as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to pull him down even closer. His necklace swings and taps your chin. It excites you in a way.

"Thank you for trusting me," he whispers.

You kiss his eyes, "Always."

You feel the head of his cock nudge your clit and you squeak.

"Keep your eyes on me, okay? I really wanna see your face while I'm fucking you,"

You nod and look at him.

"God, you're so beautiful," he sighs.

Slowly, he eases into you and you keep your eyes on him, just like he asked.

"I can already feel myself becoming addicted to you... I wanna stay like this with you forever and ever. You... fuck... you feel so good," he whines as he bottoms out completely.

"Doie, please," You choke out.

Doyoung pulls out almost completely before easing back into you.

"Do you like this?" he asks.

You can tell he's holding back.

You nod, stupid and enthralled by his voice and his touch, and the pressure you feel as he fills you up.

The softness of this moment is too much because how did you just fall deeper in love with him?

"P-please...go harder," You whimper as you clench around him hungrily.

Doyoung hisses and drops his head down to touch yours, "If you keep doing that, I'm gonna cum.... You want that? Wanna feel my cum inside you?"

"Yeah... I want it," You moan.

"You're so cute," Doyoung chuckles, "Say it. Say what it is that you want." He thrusts a little faster and you spread your legs in wanting.

"I want... you to... fill me with your cum," You pant.

"That's my dirty girl," he coos, "You're not on birth control, are you?"

You shake your head, "No... no," You reply.

He hums as he fucks into you, "Oh... so you really want me," he laughs.

You nod and lift your head to kiss him, "I... want all of you."

Doyoung slams into you once and stops to lock eyes with you, " Like that?" he asks and does it again.

You nod and whine.

He fucks you with a hard and steady rhythm and the sounds of his hips meeting yours take you somewhere obscene as you writhe against him and take each thrust with an unsurmountable greed for the next.

"I love you," You whisper; voice trembling as you lose yourself in his eyes.

"And I love you," he whispers back.

He picks up speed with a soft moan and kisses you. You lick into each other's mouth sloppily and he takes that as as sign and proves that he knows you well enough, "Open your mouth, sweetheart," he pants.

Your mouth falls open greedily and he spits in your mouth again. This time you hold it in your mouth and moan with satisfaction.

"I need more, Doie... please," You plead.

He snakes a hand down between your bodies and toys at your clit, both of your whimpers fill the thick air of your living room.

"I'm... oh, Doie," You whine, "I'm close."

"Cum for me, sweetheart. It's alright," he whispers against your mouth.

You release with a cry and Doyoung pulls out. You gasp, "No, no, no... Doie, please... please," You beg desperately.

"I'm not done, babe... turn around for me. I'm not done with you yet," he chuckles as he shifts you to turn and lean back over the armrest.

"Doie," You groan as he eases himself back into you and you welcome back that delicious stretch, "Fuck... you're so big."

Doyoung brings a hand around to stroke your clit again and you inch away from him as he fucks you. His hips smack against your ass and you whine.

"You love it, baby... You love how I stretch you out. How good it feels... I love it too... Love the way you grip me just right," he purrs.

His free hand comes up to softly circle around your throat and he pulls you up to press your back to his chest.

"Give it to me, baby... come on... You can do it again," he whispers as his fingers increase in speed. You wriggle against him and he laughs as you try to ease away from him to escape his ministrations.

"Hey, hey... where are you going, huh? Don't run from me," he laughs softly as you let him fuck into you, "That's right... stay right here with me... you love this, right?"

You nod furiously, "U-uh... h-h-huh! Yes, daddy!" you squeak.

He leans down to press his lips against your neck before licking his way up to the shell of your ear, "Yeah you do, baby... yeah, you do," he coos against your heated skin, "That's why you have to stop running from me... if you really need me to stop, you know what to say... so why don't you stay still, huh? Let me play with you."

"I love you, Doie," You gasp.

"You love me, sweetheart?" he moans.

You nod in agreement, "S-s... so... much," You sob.

His fingers stroke you faster, "Again... give it to me. Right now, baby... give it to me."

Your body is a storm of wanting him to stop but dying to feel him take you to your own heaven once more. Your body tightens up, "Doie..." You choke out.

He hisses at the sound of your soaked pussy clenching around his cock, "Sounds just like it did last night... such a good pussy... so tight and hot... it's all mine, right?"

You nod and your body convulses as you cum once more. You try to squeeze your thighs shut but Doyoung holds his hand firmly against your cunt, "You're so beautiful... just a perfect... perfect angel," he sighs as he emphasizes each word with a sharp snap of his hips.

"Please!" You cry as you try in vain to push his hand away. Despite your attempts, you don't really want him to stop. If he told you that you were to stay with him forever, just as you are right now, you wouldn't think twice about it.

"I love you, baby," he whispers as he cums. His body shudders and he kisses your neck again.

You both fall forward against the armrest and Doyoung stills himself.

You both tremble as you come down and Doyoung chuckles weakly, "I don't wanna pull out yet. Can I stay like this with you for a little bit longer?" he asks. He's still hard and if you weren't so spent, you'd do something about it.

"You're still hard," You whisper.

"It's okay, sweetheart... We have the rest of the day and I'm not going anywhere," he replies

Doyoung rouses you from your slumber gently, "I have to get home, Y/n. I have work in the morning," he whispers.

You roll over and drape your arm and leg around him, "Don't leave me," You mumble.

"Well unless you're down with three livestreams this week, I gotta go. I'll see you later. I'll come by after work," he says and kisses the side of your face.

"No... no. I'll come by your place. It's my day off. I'll make you dinner," You say as you sit up and kiss him.

"Not you being an obedient wife. Gonna make dinner and wait for me?" he chuckles.

"Yeah... what do you want me to make?"

"Whatever you want. You know I love eating anything you make," he whispers against your mouth. You know he's trying his hardest to not give in and stay with you.

"Pan fried steak with mushrooms?"

"Oooh."

"Mashed potatoes?"

"Stop, you're turning me on."

"Steamed broccoli and carrots?"

Doyoung turns onto his side then pushes you on your back and his fingers find their way between your legs.

"My parting gift to you," he says softly as his fingers draw soft circles into your clit. You spread your legs a little wider and close your eyes.

"Doie... thank you," You whimper.

Doyoung talks you through your orgasm, "Cum for me... that's my good girl. Always so wet and warm... cum, baby. You can do it," he hums.

"Doie... yes," You whine groggily.

His fingers work you faster and you gasp as you cum.

"That's my sweetheart... Good girl," he coos.

The last thing you feel before you drift back to sleep is his lips pressing softly against your forhead.

So we're slaves to any semblance of touch. Lord, we should quit but we love it too much. - Andrew Hozier-Byrne

#neoculturecollectives #nct #nct smut #kpop smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #ambw smut #ambw fic #ambw kpop #nct ambw #ambw doyoung #ambw nct #kpop ambw #nct x black!reader #nct x black reader #church boy!doyoung #doyoung the church boy #kvanity #doyoung smut #doyoung fic #black nctzens #nct x plus sized reader #kpop smut for black girls

[mt-oe]

𝙈𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙁𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙—𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙯𝙪 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

I've been getting addicted with playing Valorant recently and thought it would be fun to try and make some hcs for Mizu <3

Clove's release is so exciting and I'm so happy non-binary people are given some representation in games. They're so much fun and their ult mechanic is such a game-changer.

Please tell me if you'd like me to make more of these or if I should make some for other games too (as long as I know them well enough).

Anywho, let's go!

Enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warnings: not proofread, the use of "clutch or gay", she/her for mizu

mizu has a crush on you :3

✦ Her fave maps are Icebox and Bind. Whenever you play comp with her and these maps roll up, you're internally fucking hollering. You're thanking every possible deity there is, dancing in your seat, kissing your monitor.

She's such a god in these maps. Every good agent for every role, every lineup, and even some pro play shit strats, she memorized it.

She loves Icebox for how easy it was to clear angles and how easy it was to formulate AND predict strategies. The map was pretty straightforward and no bullshit. Perfect for her.

Bind for the outplay potentials. Teleporters + Yoru TP/Omen TP and Ult? There's no telling where she may be. Will she plant in A? Will she plant in B? Maybe she's already flanking? Who knows?

✦ Mizu doesn't buy skins but she DOES have some. They're gifts from you and her friends! An oni phantom, neptune spectre, and sovereign marshal from Akemi; An arcane sheriff from Taigen because they're probably taking their shit-talking to League too; and a reaver vandal, reaver karambit, and the oni katana from you.

She doesn't really give a shit about skins, but ever since she was gifted one, she started appreciating them. You'll see her using the inspect animation once in a while if she picks up a skin she's never seen before.

If it's just a chill comp game or she's playing solo queue, she'll use the oni katana. If she's playing with you and/or wants to show off, she'll use the reaver karambit. Of course you have to go with the sexy one when trying to impress.

✦ Doesn't shit talk heavily, but shit talks in a way that'll piss you off.

"Ooooh shit someone's mad," you laughed over the voice-comms, watching as the enemy Reyna started spewing all sorts of insults at your team. It was mostly targeted at Mizu, who was also playing Reyna, and was top-fragging. Soon after that fiasco, you'd see Mizu type "." in all chat every time she killed the enemy Reyna, got a clutch, and even an ace. Everyone was snickering at her antics, finding it funny how Mizu was shitting on them while the enemy was clearly progressively getting even more tilted.

On the other hand, if Taigen was there and Mizu failed to clutch the round, he'd be laughing loudly over the voice chat, making fun of her over and over. He'd even type "GG [insert Mizu's current agent]. Aimlabs is free" in team chat, which was so fucking embarrassing. The moment Mizu catches Taigen lacking, she'll be having a hayday in the team chat, spamming "GG [insert Taigen's current agent], Aimlabs is free" over and over which effectively pisses Taigen off.

✦ Along with the previous one, if someone ever decided to trashtalk you, she's going absolutely feral. She still wouldn't be spewing nonsense, but you'll notice her becoming more aggressive.

"Didn't you just use your ult?" You asked her, spectating as she used another Reyna ult which you swore she just used two rounds ago. "I just feel like playing a little better today," she replies. But then goes to strafe like a fucking bitch, doing a poppin' swing once or thrice, making the enemy struggle before killing the enemy and t-bagging them aggressively.

You raised an eyebrow at her antics but still laughed at it. "You sure you're not here for blood?" you joked. "Yeah.." she said while spamming your trashtalker's KD status in all-chat.

✦ There's no doubt about how well she plays with different agents, but her worst agent to use would be Gekko. Something about Dizzy's trajectory and letting Wingman plant and defuse felt off to her. Maybe it was because she was used to having control over the speed of her flashes and being able to fake defuse.

✦ Actually responds to "clutch or gay" jokes.

If a random teammate or anyone in your friend group (mainly Taigen) decides to use that joke on her during a clutch situation, it doesn't matter if it's a 1v1, a 1v5, a 1v5 + Sage res + Clove ult. She's winning. She's fucking winning.

You watched in anticipation as Mizu, using Omen, went through attacker spawn in Breeze. It was a 1v4, having picked one off when she picked up the spike. For a moment, you thought of something before typing "clutch or gay" in team chat. It worked for your other friends and randos, why not try it?

The moment she read that chat from you, you could immediately see Omen throwing his weapons off of the map. The noise of the agent's footsteps prompting the enemy to shoot him. "Bro what the fuck are you doing?" Taigen groans, annoyance heavy in his voice. Mizu doesn't respond in voice chat, but you hear her typing. After a while, a chat pops up.

(Whisper) From mizu: did you see that?

(Whisper) To mizu: mhm. why'd u do that :c

(Whisper) From mizu: you said clutch or gay

(Whisper) From mizu: i didn't clutch.

But she only ever does this to you.

✦ Actually plays fill but everyone in your friend group decided to place her as a duelist. She's going to treat every agent like a damn duelist anyway. Why place her somewhere else? You get site early and fast + She gets higher RR from combat score. It's a win-win. Plus, she loves secretly showing off to you. She relishes the "woah where'd you learn to satchel like that?", the "nice kill!" when she wins in an Iso 1v1, and the way you bought her an op upon her request when she used Jett as if you automatically trusted her.

#bes mizu x reader #bes mizu #bes x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu x you #mizu imagine

[yournowheregirl]

ronancetober 🍁❤️ day 4: kiss

wc: 1.2k | rating: T | cw: none | @ronancetober2023

Nancy hates being nervous, and most of all, she hates being nervous for a date.

A date should be the least of her worries, especially after everything went down a couple years ago. But throw in one belated queer awakening and her first date with a woman in less than two hours, and there you have it. God, this is so stupid and yet, Nancy finds herself pacing up and down her bedroom for at least ten minutes now.

“What is up with you?”

Nancy’s head snaps up and sees Robin, now her best friend and roommate, leaning in the doorway. She’s really grown into her own after moving to Chicago and joining several queer activism groups, confidence oozing off her in a way she could only dream of back when they lived in Hawkins. During Nancy’s surprise queer awakening crisis, Robin had been there by her side, the two of them talking until 3 in the morning as Nancy tried to deal with all these new feelings.

Plus, there was that whole tiny, itty-bitty, barely noticeable crush on Robin that Nancy refuses to acknowledge.

Thankfully, the crush isn’t that bad. Clearly, since she has a date with Lily tonight and not Robin. She can still be Robin’s friend without acting like a lovesick school girl, it’s totally fine. Except for the fact that Nancy will most definitely say yes if Robin asked her out right now. So, y’know, everything is one hundred percent, totally and completely fine.

“Nothing. It’s fine.” Nancy mutters.

“Obviously not. I’ve never seen you like this before and we’ve been roomies for what, almost three years now?” Robin scoffs. “C’mon, Wheeler. What’s going on?”

“Don’t Wheeler me.” Nancy snaps. Robin’s eyes widen at her sudden bitter tone and Nancy sighs in response. “Sorry. That’s not— I’m just nervous. Tonight’s that date with Lily, y’know, from the book shop.”

“Ooooh, Nancy’s popping her queer cherry tonight!” Robin hollers like she’s at a soccer game, fist pumping in the air and all.

“Please, don’t call it that.” Nancy groans. “I’m already spiraling at the thought of kissing her, let alone doing more.”

Robin lets out a short, yet loud cackle at that before her eyes meet Nancy’s panicked face and she suddenly turns serious. “Oh wait, you weren’t kidding. You’re actually nervous about kissing Lily?”

“It’s stupid, I know.” Nancy says. She finally stops her relentless pacing and plops down on her bed, not even surprised that Robin walks over and sits down next to her. Robin nods at her, her blue eyes warm and gesturing for her to continue. “It’s just— like, I know I’ve got no reason to be nervous. I’ve kissed people before but they were guys. I’ve never kissed a woman before and what if I’m bad at it?”

“Nancy Wheeler, being bad at something? Ha. That’s a good one.” Robin laughs. “No, but seriously Nance, you’ll do fine. You have experience, it’s really not that different. I think. If you really want to compare notes, you should call Steve but from my experience, kissing girls is just that. It’s just kissing.”

“Right. Right, yeah, of course.” Nancy nods. She tries to look confident, to seem like Robin’s pep-talk has fixed everything, but the nerves are still there. It’s clearly written all over her face, because next thing she knows, Robin asks,

“But if you’re really nervous, I could always… help you practice?”

Nancy blinks helplessly in Robin’s direction. Did Robin really just say what Nancy think she said? Did Robin just really suggest to kiss her to calm down? If that was her intention, she’s failing on all fronts because this does absolutely nothing to calm Nancy’s nerves.

“Help me… practice?” Nancy swallows. “Like, practice kissing?”

“Yeah, then you’ll see you have nothing to worry about!” Robin says with a bright smile. Like she didn’t just turn Nancy’s whole world upside down.

She should just say no. She should just shake it off and go on that date with Lily and see where things go from there. She should tell Robin thank you, but it’s going to be okay.

And yet…

“Yeah. That’d be great.” Nancy croaks.

“Right. Cool.” Robin nods and for a second, Nancy can see that mask of bravado and confidence fall. It happens so quickly that Nancy wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t been staring at Robin’s face. But she’s always staring at Robin’s face because look at that face and— oh shit, this is a terrible idea, isn’t it?

Nancy scoots closer and turns around to face Robin and waits til Robin does the same. Just their knees are touching but it’s still enough for a rush of warmth to spread across Nancy’s body. As Robin leans in even closer, Nancy feels her heart speed up to an almost alarming rate.

“Should I just…?” Robin whispers. Her hand comes up to cup Nancy’s cheek, her thumb softly brushing against Nancy’s cheekbone and it’s that soft touch that makes Nancy melt into her mattress.

“Yeah.”

Here’s the thing.

This is all Nancy’s fault. If she hadn’t been so damn nervous about Lily, she wouldn’t be in this situation. If she had just acted normal, Robin wouldn’t have offered to kiss her and then she wouldn’t be feeling this flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

With just one simple kiss, Robin manages to blow Nancy’s crush up to gigantic proportions and the longer their lips brush against each other, the less Nancy is thinking about Lily. She can barely remember why she even said yes when Lily asked her out. All her brain decides to focus on is how Robin’s lips are chapped but still soft.

How Robin doesn’t press too hard, but still hard enough that Nancy chases her lips everywhere they go.

How Robin holds her face so gently, but still presses her thumb against Nancy’s jaw as a silent question to open her mouth.

How Robin makes this squeaky noise of excitement when Nancy’s tongue brushes against her bottom lip.

God, her mind is swimming with all things Robin and she’s ready to drown in them.

But before Nancy can do so, Robin suddenly pulls away. Nancy blinks her eyes open and marvels at the sight of a freshly-kissed Robin. Her cheeks are flushed in a shade so pink that it matches her kiss-stained lips and her eyes are glassy and nearly black. She’s never looked more beautiful.

“It’s… uh, yeah, it’s something like that.” Robin says hoarsely. “You— you did great. You’re a great kisser, you and Lily are going to have a great time tonight. Just… great.”

“Great.” Nancy parrots, suddenly reminded about that date with Lily, even though she has zero interest in kissing any one but Robin tonight.

“I should— I should go.” Robin mutters under her breath and jumps off the bed. It’s then that Nancy suddenly spurs into action, grabbing Robin’s wrist and pulling her back just in time. Robin’s eyes widen for a second, before her eyebrows pull into a frown.

“What if I need more practice?” Nancy asks.

“Wh— what?” Robin sputters, her brows furrowed. “I already told you, you’re gonna be fine. You and Lily will be fine.”

“I mean…” Nancy trails off, thinking of the right words to say so she doesn’t screw this up. “What if I don’t want to kiss Lily anymore?”

“Well, then you should call and tell her that. Can I go back to my room now?”

Nancy’s grip on her wrist tightens. “What if I only want to kiss you?”

Robin blinks in a state of utter confusion, her mouth opening and closing like she’s trying to find the words but they aren’t coming to her. She looks downright adorable and Nancy has never wanted to kiss her more.

“You— you want to kiss me?” Robin asks slowly. “But what about Lily?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty and all but she’s not you.” Nancy gets up to her feet and steps forward, looking up at Robin through her eyelashes. “I like you, Robin.”

“Oh.”

“Is that a good oh or a bad oh?” Nancy swallows thickly — that wasn’t exactly the kind of reaction she’d hoped for. Her grip on Robin’s wrist softens as she takes a step back, mentally preparing herself for the rejection and the awkwardness and the—

Oh.

Robin’s kissing her again, all warm and wet and somehow even better than before. She holds Nancy close, so close that Nancy can barely breathe. But she doesn't want to breathe either. Who needs oxygen when she has Robin kissing her?

Turns out, Robin does because she pulls away a few moments later, her forehead resting against Nancy's.

"Definitely a good oh."

#ronancetober #ronance #ronance fic #ronance ficlet #robin buckley x nancy wheeler #LET NANCY WHEELER KISS GIRLS 2023

[aritamargarita]

ATTITUDE || 001

IT'S YOUR FIRST introduction to the World Wrestling Federation and you’re surprised at the fan reaction. It makes you giddy, but now people (including those in the back) are going to be expecting much of you. Your two best friends, Torrie Wilson and Stacy Keibler, return back to the hotel room and you guys chat before heading to sleep.

The adrenaline rush is still coursing through your veins as Shane McMahon helps you back over the barricade. You had just shown up to interfere in a match between Matt Hardy and the Big Show.

Shane told you that you needed to focus your attention on the redhead, Lita, and deal with the other, Trish Stratus, if necessary.

At one point in the match, Lita yanks Trish off of the apron and her shirt went along with it. Yikes.

Shane figured that this was a wonderful opportunity for you to get in there. He lightly pushes you forward and that was your cue to get the hell in there.

Lita was so busy with trying to beat on Trish that she hadn’t even noticed you jumped over the barricade. You can see her scream at Trish to “get up” as you approach. Her back is toward you. Perfect!

At first, the crowd was confused, but once realizing that you weren’t a fan, they holler and cheers at your appearance, quickly recognizing you from WCW.

“Is that—my god!” JR yells. “That’s [Name], from WCW!”

The crowd seems to get even louder when you yank Lita‘s shoulder and turn her toward you to smash your forearm right in her face.

Trish is looking on in awe, covering herself and scooting backward from the scene. Whoever you were, you kind of saved her?!

“She’s not taking too kindly to Lita right now!” Paul exclaims with laughter in his voice. “Fight, fight, fight!”

Lita doesn’t even get a chance to fight back, you’re moving way too fast.

It’s a little strange to hear the crowd so excited, but you try not to let it distract you as much.

Before you had gotten out of there, you made sure to give Lita a final parting gift. A swift DDT. You throw your arm around her neck and sweep your leg back, before pulling both of you down to the floor. Lita’s head slams into the concrete and you hop up from your spot.

The crowd gives a resound “ooooh” in response. If your DDT was in a box, it’d be wrapped with the prettiest bow anyone has ever seen.

Meanwhile, Trish wants to be thankful to you, this stranger that beat the hell out of Lita. Yet, she’s not sure if she should be feeling so grateful.

Covering herself with her coat, she slowly starts to make her way to the other side of the ring. She doesn’t want any problems with you!

And luckily for Trish, you didn’t have enough time to handle her, so you’ll save it for next show. Just disrupting the match equilibrium is enough.

No one was expecting you at all. You’re following behind the footsteps of people like Lance Storm, Hugh Morrus, and Booker T…..you are officially the fourth star to appear from WCW.

These random occurrences were no coincidence. To the WWF, it just meant man or woman, anyone could get it at any time.

Let it be known that the forbidden door is completely blown off its hinges. There was no longer any boundaries.

You had quickly made your way out before security could retrieve you and Shane had been waiting for you by the barricade. You two made a swift exit, with him encouragingly patting your side as he holds onto you.

Right now, he’s still guiding you out to the limousine with a camera trailing behind you two. The crowd cheers don’t end despite you two getting the hell out of there. You can still hear the noise from the arena.

“Great job, [Name]!” He exclaims. “Bet my father wasn’t expecting that! Now both divisions have something to look out for!” Shane quickly opens the door for you. “Get in!”

You quickly hop into the limo, shuffling in. Shane follows you and closes the door afterwards.

And just like that, it was the start of your WWF journey. You had always wondered if it’ll be like WCW. The backstage environment was sure to be different than this ones.

You suppose there was only one way to find out.

You’re splayed out in the seat of the limo, and though Shane had squished in there with you, he finds it to be a better idea to go sit across from you.

“I haven’t heard people cheer like that for a woman in years!” A but of an exaggeration, but it still holds true. People made a lot of noise for you.

Your attention is on the ceiling. It still hasn’t set in that the crowd might actually like you. You’re more focused on the fact that you’re actually here in the WWF.

You wouldn’t have ever guessed it. WCW was the place you wanted to be when you started. Years before you debuted, all you did was practice.

Really. Practice, practice, practice. Until you couldn’t move anymore. Your old mentor, Madusa, ensured that you were conditioned enough to be in the ring.

She kept you there for a while. You’d jokingly say that she was holding you hostage, but it ended up being for your benefit. You learned that they would pull the women from the school too early.

Madusa did not want them to make that mistake. She made sure you knew what you were doing before you could go anywhere!

You have to admit though, the training at the power-plant facility wasn’t the best. There were other woman who didn’t exactly know what they were doing. It was easy for them to mess up.

And it’s actually where you met your two close friends, Stacy and Torrie. You were nervous, they were nervous, it’s only inevitable you three would mutter things to one another.

You were more than happy to give them tips on what you knew. From you, they were more than happy to learn. Eventually it grew from only talking in the school to completely hanging out with each other.

It was really nice to finally make some genuine friends.

Shane takes you out of your daydream by holding out a bottle of champagne. “A performance like that deserves some reward! Want some?”

“No, I’m okay.” You shake your head. “But hey, I’m just glad I could get in there!”

Shane thinks you’re downplaying yourself. “Seriously, that was amazing.” He says. “I couldn’t believe it. WWF should know by now there’s one hell of a storm brewing.”

You didn’t realize it at first, but maybe you like this so called “invasion” more than you thought you would.

“You mind if we head to Times Square? I’m due to speak WWF New York.”

Your reply is sluggish. “Yeah, yeah, sure. What is that?”

“It’s mainly a restaurant, but we do some live events there too.” He summarized. 

That quickly reminds you of the WCW Grill in Vegas. You’ve been there many times, whether it to be signing things or just hanging out with other coworkers. 

You lean up from your seat. “WCW had something like that in Vegas! They closed last year though. Bummer, I kinda liked their food. And I think I had a menu item once!”

“Really? Well, I’m sure the WWF’s will be better.” Shane pauses for a second. “I mean, for once. Besides, we’ll be bigger and better. Then you can really get your name on the menu.”

You let out a chuckle. He slipped up a little. “Right.”

”I’m gonna need you for Smackdown too.” Shane says. “You don’t have to worry that much about transportation since we’re staying here for it.”

Oh joy! Seriously! No worrying about catching a flight tonight, that’s less stress on your shoulders. 

“Then I’ll be there.” It’s not like you wouldn’t be anyway.

”While you’re at it, mind asking Torrie if she could attend as well?” He requests you.  “I’ve got a great idea for the both of you.”

A great idea, he says. Not like you’ve heard that before. “Color me intrigued, what’s the plan?” 

“I want you ladies to go undercover in the WWF. Somehow, someway. Get as much information as you can from anyone you run into.” He explains. “If anything goes wrong, WCW will protect you. You’ve got my word on that.”

“I believe you. But how should I do that? Just waltz up in there and proclaim I’m one of them now? I just attacked Lita!” You throw your arms out for extra emphasis.

“Relax. Just act like you were misguided. And when you learned that I wasn’t in the right, you want to change your ways. If I were you, I’d apologize to Lita first.”

It was only a six minute drive from MSG to WWF New York. When the limo pulls up, you can hear the sound of the crowd on the outside of it.

The only thing you could do was nod at Shane. It’s go-time.

Leaning up from your spot, you take a second to fix yourself up, fixing your shirt and adjusting your hair so that it’s presentable. Wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea…

Rumors still can circulate, even if you were seen in the ring earlier! The last thing you wanted was for dirt sheets to grasp at straws, with your boss of all people.

Shane gets out first, then takes a second to open the door. He then pulls it open and you are greeted with the crowd on both sides of the sidewalk.

When they turn their heads to see who else was in the vehicle, they cheer over at you. All you can really do is wave with a smile.

Do they really know who you are?

Photographers are at the ready, their bright white lights flashing at you. It makes you squint every time a camera would go off. You just hoped those photos won’t come out bad.

Shane waits for you, offering his arm for you to take while you get out of the car. You happily take it and he ushers you to go inside.

It’s like walking the red carpet, albeit shorter and quicker. You two go in, and you try to look at what they’ve got on display as you walk.

Lots and lots of action figures. You can only look over there for a few seconds, but you do catch a Lita figure on one of the holders.

There’s a lot of others, but you’re not quite sure who they are. Stone Cold Steve Austin? Triple H? Edge? None of those people ring a bell.

As you two approach the steps, there’s only one thing pops into your mind.

…You can’t believe that this place has two floors! So far, it was beating that WCW Grill by a long shot. Upstairs was for merchandise, and as you two go down you assume that the restaurant was around here.

You’re greeted by another large crowd of people and the both of you make your way over toward the stage.

The camera nearby moves over to the both of you.

Shane lets go of your arm and goes to grab a mic from a stagehand. You wait for him by the center of the stage.

Before he says anything, he reaches down toward the crowd to give them high fives. Shane comes back toward you.

“Surprise,” He says. “Well obviously, I’m not Perry Saturn, and she’s not Terri Runnels. But dad, I know you can hear me. It’s your son Shane, how’re you doing?”

The crowd cheers his name and you keep the smile on your face. This place was WWF New York, but before anyone knew it, it could easily become WCW New York.

“You know, the one that owns WCW. The very organization that has you a little heated under the collar. Because WCW continues to infiltrate your WWF.” Shane motions over toward you.

“[Name] made an example out of two women on your roster, and believe me, that won’t be the end of it.”

You nod your head. You’re eager to take these women down, one at a time. You definitely need to make a mental checklist.

Shane continues on. “You see dad, that is done out of necessity. Because in order to build a brand like WCW, we need television exposure. But I’ve gotta give you credit on this because I didn’t think it was possible, through all of your connections you have been able to block WCW from airing on any television network period.”

When he pauses again for a split second, the crowd cheers him.

“Here’s how it’s gonna go down.” He says. “I may not be able to compete with your checkbook but I can compete with your brains. Since you have prevented WCW from airing on any network, it’s now time for WCW to invade the WWF.”

You clap your hands toward him, then try to signal for the crowd to make some noise. They do and you smile. “Thank you!” Although your words were drowned out by the crowd.

“One of the people to lead the charge in one division stands here next to me,” Shane turns to you. “I reckon that she’ll become the next Women’s Champion in no time..”

You hope so. That’s a big step in your career. You were one year too late in getting the WCW Women’s Championship, despite Madusa’s efforts to revive it.

To your surprise, Shane holds out the mic toward you. He must’ve expected you to say something.

You try not to look like a deer in headlights as you take the mic and speak up.

“All I want is to lead WCW to victory. Whatever it takes, I will do…so let this be a warning to the entire women’s division. What I did to Lita was a demonstration of what’s to come. Trust me when I say that no one can stop me, but feel free to try if you want to…that is if you don’t want to end your career early!”

Shane laughs at your words. Hopefully the women (and men if they so dared,) would take heed. You pass the mic back to him.

“Oh, but that’s not all,” He points a finger up. “Might I introduce the second person to lead the charge, I’m sure that you and Stone Cold Steve Austin know this man very well. Ladies and Gentlemen, the WCW Champion, give it up for Booker T!”

As Booker makes his way from behind the curtain with a mic, he throws up his arms.

You watch as he reaches down to high five the fans. After of which, you reach out your own hand for him to shake. He grabs your hand and shakes firmly.

Shane mimics you, shaking his hand as well.

“Last night, at King of the Ring, it was just too easy, no, it was just too damn easy to take you outta the game!” Booker says.

There are mixed reactions at his words, with more cheering than booing from the antsy crowd.

“—And you call yourself the WWF Champion? I respect that, but ask me what I call you. I’m calling you out to let you know that if you want some you can come and get some, because I’m gonna be here at WWF New York, kicking it all night long!”

Shane brought back up his own mic. “I’d like to call this my dream team. These two are going to lead my brand new company to victory. Dad, this is a warning to you.  I’m just here to say that you’re on borrowed time..”

That’s all that was needed to say.

Shane was 100% sure that his father was watching. He’s also sure that he was boiling in anger. It’s exactly what he wanted.

The camera makes sure to get all three of you into frame. It’s up to you, as that’s left was for you and Booker T to apply pressure on the WWF..

After the segment at WWF New York, Shane fortunately allowed you to return to your hotel, but told you to watch the remainder of Raw when you could on the television.

You’re not exactly sure what his plan was, but now you’re curious to see. All you knew is that Booker T was asked to stay and they went off somewhere else while you just left through the back this time.

Just what in the world were they up to?

Shane was nice enough to send you your own limousine after bidding you a good night. Most of your energy had fizzed out and you could tell that his had too.

All you were excited for was to flop onto your bed. You don’t even move the comforters, all you do is just lie down for a few minutes. You’re sure you can move a little later.

There’s a lot of big changes going on in your life right now. You think the first biggest one was Shane McMahon’s entry to WCW and how quickly everyone went on his side.

It’s only fair. It’s the competition, hell, it’s the son OF the competition. Who specifically came in saying that he was against his father.

But what made him so trustworthy anyway? A lot of your coworkers were immediately on his side. You knew WCW was declining, but you never thought everyone else would stoop low enough to side with competition.

At least, not that quickly. The way things were going in the company, it made you feel like you had no choice but to trust him. So far, no betrayals, so everything is going okay so far.

You do get enough energy to at least turn on the television to Raw. You figure it’s only right to honor Shane’s request.

Immediately, you’re greeted by the sight of Shane McMahon heading down the ramp with a pep in his step. His father is not happy to see him at all.

Seeing the brand new WCW logo projected onto the ramp makes you feel…

Well, you don’t know how it makes you feel. You can safely say it makes you feel weird though.

You’re so used to it having an obnoxiously large watermark behind it, with the barely visible text of “World Championship Wrestling”.

Now it’s all small, jagged with the points on each letter. You have to tilt your head slightly in order to see it better.

Eventually, the camera moves away from the ramp and decided to follow Shane who was circling around the ring.

With you being able to hear the commentators properly, you wonder what they had to say about your prior run-in. You should’ve asked someone back at home to tape it!

“WCW does NOT belong in Madison Square Garden!” Paul is almost standing out of his seat by now with all of his screaming. 

“You may be right about that, but—“ Unfortunately, JR isn’t allowed to get one single word out thanks to his partner.

“You’re damn right I’m right! I grew up here, I know these things, I see these things!”

You roll your eyes. Shouldn’t Paul Heyman be worried about his own company instead of everyone else’s?

Oh, wait…

You chuckle to yourself. Thank god no one could hear your thoughts or that you were backstage. That wouldn’t have been good.

Vince is beckoning Shane into the ring, but unbeknownst to him, Booker had hopped right up into the ring, ripping his jacket off in the process.

It’s so over for him! You can’t help but smile. You watch as Booker lays in punches onto him, causing him to stagger backwards.

Booker takes advantage of this and runs toward the ropes, bounces off of them, then lifting one of his legs to give him a scissor kick.

Just to add salt in the wound, he hits a spinaroonie to get off the canvas.

How amazing is this?! You can see the entire WWF locker room run down the ramp but Shane and Booker are way too fast, making their exit.

This obviously must’ve been what Shane wanted you to see. Maybe this means that the ball is back in your court now.

You wonder how you can upstage Booker this time. It’ll definitely be hard since he literally knocked the hell out of the literal CEO of the WWF! Vince McMahon!!

Although, Shane offhandedly mentioned he has a sister who also happens to be in the business. You could always find something to do with her if he allows it.

Are you still buzzing from earlier? You had thought your energy was all gone, but it seemed like there was still bits of adrenaline in your veins.

You had only a few seconds to make your appearance count and from what you can think back on, you did a pretty damn good job.

The sound of the door unlocking makes you snap your head to your right.

“Helloooo!” Torrie sings from the doorway. “[Naaame], are you here? I’ve got Stacy with meee!”

Ah yes, your unofficial roommate for this trip. Torrie Wilson. And Stacy, who insisted that she room with you guys this time.

You think she’s just scared of being alone, which is understandable. But there was no need for her to try and sneak into your bed when she could use the pull out couch!

“I saw you on TV,” Stacy exclaims. “You were great! You really kicked….what’s her name? Ah, who cares?! The crowd was really loud too!”

“Yeah.” Is all you can really say to that. And then you fall back onto your bed, turning away from them and putting your head onto the cold pillow.

The both of them share a look, but Torrie’s the first to question you. She takes a seat next to you on the bed. “What’s your problem tonight? I’m surprised you haven’t called us on that dying Nokia you’ve got. Normally you’d be the one to drag us out after a show.”

Torrie teasing you about your phone was nothing new, but you still take offense anyway!

“I’m holding onto it!” Your words are muffled. “My 1999 phone is getting me places, okay?!”

Stacy takes a seat on the opposite side of you. “Aren’t they making a new one in like November?”

“Are they?” You turn your head so that they can hear you better. “I hope they have other colors. But honestly, I’m tired. Kinda.”

“Kind of?” Stacy repeated. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

You hold up five fingers.  “Five, so just enough to me. I had a flight to catch to get here, so five was really pushing it. I can’t really tell if this schedule’s gonna be worse than our old one.”

“Oh, you poor thing!” Torrie exclaimed, rubbing her hand on your back. “You’re right, but with Shane McMahon being our boss, I’ve gotten more sleep than I would normally! But that’s pretty bad to say, huh?”

“Yes,” You mumble. “Yes it is.” She just haaad to rub it in your face.

“Listen, I don’t think we have to be at the next show—“  You quickly interrupt Torrie. “About that, Shane wanted me to ask you to be at Smackdown. He didn’t say anything about Stacy this time.”

It makes Stacy cheer. “Yay! I get to relax aallll day tomorrow. You know what? [Name], I saw this really cute top at Delia’s earlier today. Now I can go back and buy it for you!”

“Was it that crop top with all those safety pins on the side?” Torrie turns over to Stacy. “If it was, that one totally screamed [Name].”

”YES!” She exclaimed. “That’s exactly the one I’m talking about!”

”From the sound of it, it sounds like I’m gonna have to have a lot of trust in that top.” You say. “And when did you guys go shopping??”

”Earlier. See, they said they needed us.” Torrie removes her hand from your back. “Then I guess they changed their minds since they had you?” It’s the only logical explanation she comes up with.

Whatever, it’s really no big deal. ”Well, you’re gonna be needed tomorrow anyway. And Stacy, I’m sure they’re gonna ask you to show up again. People went crazy! It would be bad if we just left you two in New York.” 

“I wouldn’t mind at all!” Stacy finally decides to take a seat too. “Times Square is beautiful! If I could, I’d totally live here.”

“I saw a rat walking down the street with pizza.” You comment. “And you’d stay here. Crazy, crazy, girl.” 

Stacy definitely rethinks it. “…Well, now that you say that, shopping only!”

“Hold on a second, it had pizza?!” Torrie exclaims.

It’s gonna be a long, long night, that’s for sure.

*painfully gives a thumbs up.* I SWEAR THIS WAS LONGER WHEN I LOOKED AT THIS OMG. but, yeah. Here we go again, please strap in for the ride

#LET ME COOK. #wwe x reader #wwe Imagine #wwe various x reader #trish stratus x reader #trish stratus imagine #lita x reader #lita imagine #matt hardy imagine #matt hardy x reader #shane mcmahon imagine #shane mcmahon x reader #WWF ATTITUDE SERIES #wwf x reader #wwf imagines #wwf imagine

[noodyl-blasstal]

Careless Whisper

It's day 28 of @taznovembercelebration - we're so close to the end! Today's prompt was "whisper" so enjoy! Read below or on Ao3. Missed yesterday? Here it is!

-

“You have a crush on Taako?” Yells Sloane at a higher volume than anyone has ever reached before and ever could again.

“Ssssh” Kravitz hisses. He jumps to his feet and wishes he could move this quickly when they were transitioning from floor to standing work in gym class. Klarg always looked slightly pitying as he wormed his way slowly to his feet.

Kravitz looks around desperately, maybe no one heard, maybe no one’s nearby? Fuck. There’s someone by the pond… wait, it’s not Taako, it’s Paloma, the tiny old lady who lives a few floors down. She probably couldn’t hear anything, no matter how loudly Sloane yelled, it was fine.

“What?” Sloane says, her voice magically lower again, massive grin fixed on her face.

“You can’t just go yelling secrets!” Kravitz tries to maintain a level of indignation despite his relief.

“Yeah. sure… secrets.” Sloane snorts out a little laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” Kravitz scans the courtyard again, okay, he’s probably fine, no one else is here.

“No reason.” She’s infuriating.

Kravitz sits back down on their picnic blanket. “Do you think it’s not a secret?” He asks quietly, because he, unlike some people, knows the proper volume at which to hold this conversation.

“It’s not not not a secret.” She runs her fingers through the grass and doesn’t look at Kravitz.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s not not a secret because you, you know, haven’t told him.”

Kravitz nods happily.

“But it’s also not-not not a secret, because you’re always goopy when he’s around. You got him those flowers!”

“I get you flowers!”

“Yeah, and you’re not trying to bone down with me.”

“I don’t just want to bone down with Taako!”

“Awwwww.” Sloane kicks her feet up into the air. “Taako and Kravitz kissing in a tree, K I S S I N G!

“Sloane, you have to stop”

She just grins happily.

“Hey!” A familiar voice yells from up above. “Hey, handsome!”

Kravitz looks straight up at Taako’s balcony. He’s treated to the sight of Taako wearing the tiniest black pyjama shorts, a massive frou frou pink robe, and nothing else. Nothing else, he’s perfect.

“Are you okay?” Kravitz shouts up. Hopefully Taako’s not having some kind of emergency, Kravitz could start trying to climb the balconies now, that single session of bouldering before his arms hurt too much would probably stand him in good stead.

“Taako’s fine, my guy.” Taako waves and gives a thumbs up to illuminate this point.

“Then why did you shout?”

“Oh, I have a crush on you too.” Taako says, or rather yells, like it’s no big deal, like people just say these things.

“How did you…?”

“Paloma texted me.”

Kravitz turns to glare and she waves happily from the bench by the pond.

“You’re welcome!” She shouts.

He’d love to not be having this conversation at this volume. Now the only thing that could make this worse was…

“…Magnus!” Yells Magnus, winded, but still as peppy as usual. “I saw some messages in the group chat that said I had to get down here.”

Kravitz sighs, deeply, right down to his boots.

“Are you serious, Taako? You have to tell me if this is a joke.” Kravitz tries his best to ignore the fact that Lup and Barry have definitely just sidled out of the door, pretending to be transfixed by one of the trees.

“No joke my guy, Taako would ride you right into the sunset.” There’s a loud whoop from somewhere suspiciously near Paloma.

“Shall we have this conversation in private?” Kravitz shouts back. You know, maybe so his insides stopped liquifying with the embarrassment.

“I thought you were into shakespeare? This is basically Romeo and Juliet, Taako should know, he read the spark notes.”

“Did you plan this?”

“Do you like it?”

“I like bits of it.”

“I like your bits.” Taako hollers.

“Can I come up?” Kravitz asks, hopeful that direct action might save him having to have this conversation in public.

“Ooooh, you move fast. I like it. See you in 5.”

Kravitz runs all the way to the lift.

--

Enjoyed this and want some more? Find tomorrow's here.

#taz nc #TAZ November challenge #I kept falling asleep writing so I'm sorry if anything doesn't quite scan I'll fix it as soon as I can function if something is wonky #Noodyl Writes

[lazorbeanz]

I finally got it done 🥲

So I’ve decided to try get back into writing again, even if it’s just short stories or straight up dialogue. And I thought it be best to warm back into it with using some comfort characters, characters I’ve written about before.

Super Mario is my childhood franchise and obsession…without it I may have never discovered Sonic 😧 Whether you are a Mario fan or not, I hope you enjoy it some way or another lol

So I present to you;

The Super Slay Bros.

A Super Mario one shot based of a hc discussed by me and my sister over a game of Mario kart

TW: gen Z talk 💀

“Ooooh peach! Come check out this skirt!” Daisy yelled from across the store.

Her best friend spun on her heel and strode straight towards the voice. Her pale pink stilettos clacking on the wooden floor boards beneath her. When she arrived by the girl’s side, she looked down and was in immediate awe by what she saw: a simple but elegant pleated skirt almost the colour of her heels. It included a white checkered design to it. Again; simple, but elegant.

“Oh Daisy, this would go great with this!” She remarked, holding up a white, cropped blouse, with small frills on the ends of the short sleeves.

“I should definitely try these on!”

“Totes.” Daisy nodded in agreement. “Besides, I have almost a closet’s worth of clothes I just HAVE to try out.” She looked down at the bag she was holding, almost overflowing with bits and pieces she picked out, which if Peach didn’t know better, almost looked like half the store was raided.

But she couldn’t be mad, she just sighed and smiled. Daisy hardly ever went proper fashion shopping, but when she did, she was like a kid in a candy store…without a parent. The moment she stepped a foot in this boutique, she already spotted ten things she would die to own.

“Miiight wanna let them know…” Daisy pointed. Peach spun around, knowing who she was referring to.

“Mario! Luigi! Me and Daisy are gonna try a few things on. We won’t be long.” She hollered to the brothers, who were just standing awkwardly in the middle of the shop. Their focus immediately turned towards the princess.

“Oh, n-no worries Princess! We’ll be waiting out here.” Mario replied with a smile.

Peach returned him a weak smile, then made her way with Daisy towards the changing rooms. To be honest, she felt kinda bad for allowing them to be dragged into this…shopping wasn’t their cup of tea, let alone fashion shopping…she gets that. And the way she saw them standing around like sore thumbs was really unfair in her opinion. But it was their day off work and they both insisted to tag along, in case the girls required help in carrying an overload on purchases…Such gentlemen! What a way to spend a day off! She hated to leave them like this.

Peach could only hope they wouldn’t be too long, but as for her friend’s current situation, this ain’t gonna be a quick ‘in-n-out’…

———

Ten minutes had already passed and there was no sign of the girls emerging from the changing rooms…and as patient as Mario could possibly be, he was beginning to find this awkward. A few people had come in, to do the same as what the four were in here for, instantly recognising the iconic Mario Brothers, some who even struck up a conversation or two with them, which they were able explain their reasons for being in a place such as this…they seemed understand.

Now the store was empty just like how it was when they first arrived, a loud silence filled the air, apart from the faint music that could be heard playing in the shop. Mario glanced over at his brother, who looked just as lost. He was twiddling his thumbs, which the older knew was a sign of his anxiety. For being the only 2 out here really didn’t give any reason to get anxious…but this is Luigi we’re talking about. He can get anxious from practically anything…even from dead silence.

Mario scanned the area, looking in hopes for something that might calm his younger brother a bit. When something in particular caught his eye. He smirked to himself and walked over to the counter.

———

“Hey Lu!”

Luigi gasped and flinched, slightly surprised by the mentioning of his name. He swiftly looked up to the direction where the voice came from.

“M-Mario?! What the heck?!”

Luigi looked more confused than a man in a barber shop. Looking his brother up and down.

His older brother was completely adorned in beaded necklaces around his neck and multiple bracelets on both wrists. He was also wearing a pair of sunglasses with an incredibly thick pink frame, and a green cap worn backwards, which he believed had a 1-UP mushroom embroided on the front.

“Fab am I right?” His brother attempted to mimic the girls’ casual lingo, whilst striking a pose like a runway model.

This caused Luigi to snicker. Who was he and what did he do with his brother?

“Mario what is thi- woah!”

He got interrupted with Mario grabbing a hold of his arm and pulling him towards the counter.

“It’s time we keep ourselves busy in the meantime” the older glanced back at the younger with a grin painted on his face. And it wasn’t just any grin…it was THAT grin…the grin that meant he had an idea, usually a mischievous one at that.

I mean he was right, almost 15 minutes has passed and neither girl showed, if he had something in mind to keep them occupied from the seemingly long wait, it was worth a shot.

Mario let go of his grasp once they were at their destination. To the right of the register, was a huge rotatable stand, which held an unruly amount of assorted accessories…necklaces, earrings, rings, bracelets, you name it!

Luigi looked at Mario, and Mario at him.

“Help yourself.” He nodded to the stand.

Now it was Luigi’s turn to put on ‘the grin’ as he began to strip the stands of all sorts of jewellery, and began applying them on him. He just managed to squeeze a few rings on his fingers. Having pretty large hands made it difficult as most of the sizes were for smaller fingers.

Once done with the jewellery, he surveyed the area to find the hats. He chose a simple straw hat…and also found a purple scarf but was so long he wore it like a fur boa. Lastly, he found a pair of rounded sunglasses with a metallic bronze frame.

“Slay or nay?” He spun around to face his brother, who decided to leave him on his own while he got dressed up. Mario chuckled at hearing the unexpected lingo from his younger brother.

“Oh my gosh, SLAY QUEEN!!” He exclaimed louder that he should’ve, sending both brothers into fits of laughter. Honestly, it was so cringy but so hilarious at the same time. They didn’t know how on earth people would say stuff like this with a straight face…But one of them will either strike a weird pose, or attempt to say another cringy girl comment, which would send them back into another fit of giggles.

After almost a minute of being hunched on the floor, trying to regain breath, the pair finally regained composure and decided to head back to the stand, switching up their looks with other accessory pieces. They also noticed a mirror right next to the jewellery stand, which they used to take mirror selfies with their cellphones, imitating how the girls do them. The poses and a frequent “slay gurl!” or a “Yass queen!” From one of them would send them howling.

They unconsciously repeated this for another 15 minutes. Out of all the possibilities of how their day would turn out, neither expected to be doing something as out of the blue, as this.

———

Peach forcefully swung the door open of the changing room, gasping for a breath of (somewhat) fresh air. It can get kinda stuffy in those change rooms, and with the duration she was in their for, not only trying her own picks, which turned out to be a perfect fit and match, but also having to assist daisy in an unexpected wardrobe malfunction or two, (either a zipper wouldn’t budge or she got stuck in a clothing item for being too small) it was better than nothing.

The girl inhaled deeply and exhaled, feeling much better, she turned around to see her best friend dragging her bag stuffed with clothes, majority of them turned out to be too small for her.

“I’m sorry the try on was a flop, Dais.” Peach placed a hand gently on the girl’s back.

“Eh don’t stress.” She sighed. “Besides, after all that, there’s just one thing in particular that I want.” She stated, pulling up a pale blue bodycon dress with tiny daisies dotted all over. “It’s…PERFECT!”

All Peach could do at that moment was shoot Daisy a smile, glad that she found something she wanted. But there was a part of her that just wanted to scream…all this just to buy ONE dress?! She shrugged it off, relieved it’s over now, when she remembered the guys were still waiting.

“Oh shoot, the boys!” She whispered, but still loud enough for Daisy to hear. The girls’ pace increased rapidly, making their way to where they last saw the 2, but stopped to a halt just as quick when they heard what definitely sounded like Mario and Luigi’s voices coming from…over by the counter?

———

“What on earth?!”

The sound of the Princess’ voice seemed to get their attention, both were startled however.

Mario was first to make a comment.

“Ahh P-princess! Uhhhhh I-I-it’s not what it looks like! You see, w-we were just l-looking!” He stammered, his face as red as his shirt. He almost immediately started taking off the load of accessories that were currently on him. Luigi followed suit, but ended up getting his arms tangled in the amount of necklaces around his neck.

“Hm I can see that…” She eyed him up and down. The plumber chuckled nervously.

“Looks like these two had a little try-on session of their own.” Daisy stifled a laugh. “I don’t know about you girl…but I think they kinda slay.”

“NOHOOO!!! NO MORE SLAY!!” Luigi cried aloud before collapsing on the floor, cackling, his arms still entwined in all the jewellery.

“Hang on Weegie, I’m coming.” Daisy assured, kneeling down to his aid.

Peach giggled at the commotion from the two down below, then turned to face Mario. “Maybe Daisy is right.” She winked at him. “Lemme help you get all that off.” She offered, which he gladly accepted her help, removing all the necklaces, bracelets, etc. She returned them back onto the stand as if they were never moved. She also returned the hat and sunglasses back to their designated spots. Daisy did the same with Luigi’s collection, but kept the sunglasses, as she thought they’d go well with her new dress.

Once they all decided to chime in and help return all Daisy’s previous picks back to where they belong throughout the store, and purchased their goods, they finally made their exit out of the boutique.

The mall was incredibly lively from when they first arrived. But that wasn’t gonna be able to mute Daisy’s holler, pointing at something through a window in another boutique.

“OH PEACH!! WE HAVE TO CHECK THIS OUT!!!”

Peach didn’t even catch what it was that Daisy was excited about this time.

Her, along with Mario and Luigi, just groaned in unison.

You read it all the way through? Yay! :D

I hope you enjoyed it! It was thought out a lot better in my head but I’m incredibly eepy (I stayed up late to finish this) so I’m content

Haven’t done a full grammatical check so apologies for any mistakes ;-;

I’m sorry for the cringe ;3;

❤️🩷💚🧡

#super mario #mario #Luigi #peach #Daisy #princess peach #princess daisy #mareach #luiaisy #mario fanfic #mario fanfiction #super mario brothers #super mario bros

[green-socks]

A Winter's Ball

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x f!reader (callsign Baby, because of Dirty Dancing)

Summary: The annual Grand Winter Ball is coming, and you offer to give Bob some dancing lessons.

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: none, really.

Notes: Thank you so much @lorecraft for requesting this<3 You really got my writing juices going after a bit of a dry spell and I'm so happy for that! Trying out a new character (and a new fandom at that) always scares me shitless but Bob is everything and I desperately wanted to give him a go with this quick thing. Hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

”Bob! You’re coming too, right?” Rooster hollered, brining Bob out of his daze.

“Coming where?” he asked, confused.

“The Grand Winter Ball, man. In December. You gotta come,” insisted Hangman, taking over from Rooster.

“Really? You’re going?” It didn’t seem like Hangman’s scene, though what did Bob know. He’d never been to the Ball.

“Hell yeah, man. I like to dress up nice and go mingle,” Hangman winked.

“And you know I like to dance. It’s a good time with the right gang,” Rooster continued.

“I did just find a great dress for it,” Phoenix mused.

If Phoenix was going, then Bob thought it might not be that bad. And really, if everyone else went, he’d feel left out. Stupid peer pressure.

“Baby, you usually go, don’t you?” Phoenix continued, turning to the only other female present.

“I do! I missed the last two years though, so hopefully I can use my old dress again and no one will remember,” she joked.

Fanboy piped up, “Do I need to, like, bring a date?”

Hangman was already opening his mouth with a twinkle in his eye that promised no good, but thankfully Baby broke in before he could say anything dumb. “You can, if you want to, but usually people bring more long-term partners, or really good friends, or family members, rather than just ask someone out for that one occasion. But we can all go as a group!”

“So there’s.. dancing?” Bob asked apprehensively. “I don’t really– I mean I haven’t–“

“I can give you a few lessons if you want, Bob,” Baby said earnestly, putting a hand on his knee, a kind expression on her face. Bob swallowed nervously, but she continued, “Just so you’ll know what to expect. So you’ll have a handle on a few of the basics, nothing too complicated.”

“Y-you think so?” His fingers itched to twiddle nervously, but her hand was still on his knee, so he stayed still. “I mean, thanks. That would be really nice of you,” he mustered up a small smile.

“Ooooh, Baby and Baby getting together! Are you gonna dance dirty?” Hangman crowed.

“We’ll set up a lesson, I’ll text you about it,” Baby said, ignoring Hangman. Bob knew she had some background as a dance instructor, and still danced whenever she could, hence the callsign.

She nodded and smiled like the matter was settled, then stood up, motioning to Rooster now. “Come on, Bradshaw, show me what you got boy,” she said playfully, and drew the man for a dance.

Everyone else continued drinking their beers and laughing at Rooster and Baby tearing up the dancefloor all by themselves. They had started out doing one of those ballroom dances, but since the music wasn’t really suited for that, they had just switched to whatever it was they did. Hands in the air, hips loose, hair whipping, all sorts of grinding and twirling and movements Bob had no idea how they even did them. His body certainly wasn’t meant to do that.

Bob admired them both for being able to let go like that. And he always thought Baby looked especially pretty like this, the joy she was feeling clear on her face and in her body language. He was barely able to shyly jam along with the rest of the gang, and preferably when he felt like no one was watching.

When the song switched to Black Velvet, Rooster and Baby started gaining more audience with the way they had started a surprisingly sensual looking dance. Bob couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy. At the same time, he felt himself get hot under the collar looking at her and their stupidly sexy dance and why couldn’t he look away?

People whistled and hooted, which only made Rooster and Baby amp it up, trying to stay serious about their little show, but faces cracking up in laughter even as they took it further.

Mercifully the song ended after what felt like many agonizing minutes, and Bob didn’t feel like examining too closely why that had felt like the sweetest torture to watch. But one thing he knew for certain was that Baby would definitely not have as much fun with him as she did dancing with Rooster. Jealousy raised its head in his gut again, so he stuffed another handful of peanuts in his mouth.

--------

You had cleared off some room in your admittedly not that roomy living room, hoping it would work as a makeshift dancefloor for two people for the next hour or so. The Winter Ball was only two weeks way now, so it was really time to get cracking with getting Bob ballroom ready.

“I thought we’d start with your basic waltz. That’s a good basic skill to have, you know, almost all the other stuff is just extra, at least in my experience. There will be several waltzes during the night at the Ball, too,” you explained, hoping to reassure the nervous looking Bob in front of you.

“I assume you may know the time signature of waltz? I thought I can just count for us first, and then move on to music when you’ve got the hang of it.”

“Yeah. Actually, time signatures and that stuff I know pretty well. I play the drums, so I know rhythms. I just.. don’t know how to move,” Bob said, biting his lip, as if he was unsure if he should be asserting himself like that.

“Oh! Well, that’s great! You’re already on a much better basis with that background than many others,” you smiled. Man, the WSO was full of surprises. And adorable. But that was neither here nor there. “You must be familiar with using a metronome too, then”–Bob nodded–“so we can use that to help us find the rhythm.”

“Come here.” You waited patiently for Bob to step closer to you, and then you pulled him a little bit closer still, showing him where to put his hands. “Right hand up here, to my shoulder blade. People always like to leave it hanging lower, because it takes more work to keep it up there, but I’m supposed to be able to rest my left hand on your forearm like this. And sure, if you’re going for more intimate and relaxed feeling, you can be looser, but we’re doing this properly, aren’t we Bob?” you smile at him broadly, having fun getting to be all proper every once in a while.

“Sure, yeah, sure.”

You guide his other arm to the right position. “Now, we’ll start with the basic box step and work from there, okay? On one, your left foot steps forward, while my right one steps back, like this… Next, your right foot steps sideways to the right.. Right, yes.”

And so on and so forth it went, getting the steps down, practicing the familiar rise and fall motion of the dance. It was proper exercise, and after an hour you were both slightly sweaty.

“Whew,” Bob exclaimed after yet another go. “I never realized holding my arms up for this long would be so hard,” he laughed quietly.

“I know, it’s a lot of work, but think how handsome you’ll look in your tuxedo with your fancy closed position posture,” you grinned at him, and he blushed a little, but then he put his arms back into position, shoulders down, back straight, and a determined look on his face.

“Wanna go again?”

Honestly, Bob was a lot better at this than you would have thought. Sure, it was clear he wouldn’t be letting loose and getting lost in the dancing itself any time soon, but he practically never missed a beat, and he was really good at remembering the steps. And your goal here was to teach him the dances, not necessarily get him to enjoy them, though you hoped he would, some day. His movements weren’t the most fluid, but they were what you needed them to be for the dance to go smoothly, nonetheless.

You agreed to meet a couple more times again before the Ball, and you felt confident you’d be able to teach Bob a few more different styles to give him a proper repertoire, since he was such a quick learner and good with the rhythms.

You sent him off with a promise to meet two days later, and said, “With this rate we’re going, everyone’ll be wanting to dance with you all night!”

Bob blushed again, stammered a thanks, and left.

--------

It was the night of the ball, and you were getting ready. Your friend who was a hairdresser had come to do your hair for the night, making you feel gloriously pretty.

And you did decide to wear your old dress from a few years ago, since you felt it was ageless anyway and still fit you. You thought the tasteful cutouts showing off the smooth skin of your back looked especially pretty, and secretly you hoped Bob would like it.

You weren’t entirely sure, but you thought there had been some sparks between you and him these past two weeks while you had been teaching him. Even longer, truth be told. You had just never had the guts to do anything about it, and Bob didn’t exactly seem like the type to make the first move all that quickly either. You had flirted with him here and there, and you thought he might even have been flirting back lately. Maybe, if you felt brave enough, you could try to talk to him tonight, see how he felt.

While you had been honest about him probably having his pick of willing dance partners, you hoped he would spend most of those with you. There was the obvious matter of you liking him, so getting to spend more time so close to him sounded like a damn good time. But it wasn’t just that. Even though Bob wasn’t a pro by any means, he always made you feel safe and secure in his arms, and that was perhaps the most important thing when dancing with a partner. You were nearly always likely to say yes if someone asked you for a dance, but despite the fancy dress code, not everyone behaved like a gentleman at the Ball. So it would be nicer to dance with someone you trusted. Getting to smell his cologne up close would be a significant bonus though.

-

So far you were having a grand time at the Ball – in fact, it was the most fun you had ever had there. With so many friends around you, everything was even better. Though you tried to behave like sophisticated people, the proverbial hairs had started falling out of the proverbial bun with Hangman snorting wine through his nose when Payback had made him laugh, and everyone had lost it at the pretty boy being not so pretty.

Needless to say, once dinner was over and it was time for dancing, the gang was feeling quite joyful, and your group was among the first to hit the dancefloor. Acting very dignified and distinguished, of course. Or at least trying to.

You had promised the first dance to Rooster months ago, and after that Hangman came to whisk you away for the second one (while smoothly asking for tips to further improve his dancing technique – you were feeling gracious and gave them without any of the usual teasing), and then you took Fanboy and Coyote each for a spin, which was more giggling and stumbling than fancypants dancing, but you loved every minute.

After all that you were dying to see Bob though. You hadn’t gotten to dance with him yet, but you were really pleased to have seen him dance all the dances too. You were craning your neck searching for the WSO before someone else snagged him for the next dance, when there was a tap on your shoulder.

“Can I have the next dance, Baby?” Bob asked shyly.

“Yes!” you beamed, probably a bit too enthusiastically to be normal. “I was just looking for you!”

“Really?” he grinned.

“Yes! I wanted to get you for a dance too.”

“Oh-Okay,” Bob smiled and led you to the floor.

Even though technically there was nothing more to this than when you were dancing with the others, you were feeling both flustered and giddy to be dancing with Bob like this, when you were all decked out in black tie gear and there was actual live music and everything. It felt more real, because now you were two people dancing together in front of other people, instead of just learning to dance in your small living room.

You were enjoying the feeling of safety and closeness with Bob again. He felt so steady, and you knew the strength his arms held even if he didn’t display them as readily as some of the others. It was like the rest of the ballroom disappeared when you danced with him, which was why you missed most of your gang eyeing you two knowingly from the sidelines. You were too busy gazing into Bob’s beautiful eyes that seemed to sparkle under the chandeliers. You probably had a totally besotted look on your face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He looked so handsome in his tux you had nearly swallowed your tongue the first time you’d laid eyes on him earlier at the champagne reception.

The song ended, and Bob being the perfect gentleman bowed and offered his hand to escort you from the floor. But you didn’t feel like letting go just yet.

“Stay,” you asked, maybe even pleaded, who knew anymore. “Let’s dance another one?”

“I– Oh– Sure, okay, yes, of course.”

After the second dance bled into a third one, Bob was quiet for a long moment, and then said, “I thought you would have wanted to dance with Rooster more.”

Slightly confused, you answered, “No, I want to dance with you, Bob. I wanted to have you for most of the dances tonight if I’m honest, not anyone else.”

“I.. I thought you liked Rooster,” Bob mumbled, looking embarrassed and slightly blushed.

“What? You did?”

“Um, well, you always have so much fun with him, I thought…” he continued mumbling.

You chuckled a little and looked up at him nervously. “No, not at all. Actually, I… I like you.”

“Oh.”

And for the first time, your steady partner missed a beat as he gazed at you with a wide-eyed amazement.

“Wait, really?”

You smiled. “Yes, really. I’ve been too nervous to say anything, but yeah, I really like you. Hope that’s okay,” you rambled.

“Wow. Uhm– Can I kiss you?” Bob asked, and then before you could answer, he babbled, “I’m sorry! I mean–, I didn’t mean to say that, I meant to say I like you too, obviously.”

You two had stopped dancing, instead just standing there on the edge of the dancefloor, letting other couples drift by.

“I would love it if you kissed me, Robert,” you whispered, and got to see a smile bloom on his face before leaning in to close the distance between you.

His lips were so soft and gentle pressing against yours, first a little hesitantly, then with more confidence as he drew you closer to him. You hummed happily and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing yourself even more tightly against him. You moved to deepen the kiss, and the first slide of his tongue against yours made you let out a small moan.

Which made Bob pull away.

His face was flushed and his breathing a little heavier. “Sorry, it’s just that, uhm, these tuxedo pants won’t actually hide a whole lot so…” he trails off, getting more red.

You giggled. “Sorry, I guess I was getting a little carried away. Do you want to go get some fresh air or keep dancing?”

Bob smiled. “We can keep dancing now that I know how to do it with you. Not that I minded just watching you before,” he admitted sheepishly.

“You can watch at me all you want, as long as I get to look at you too,” you winked, trailing a finger down his chest.

“Okay seriously, sweetheart, we need to waltz before I embarrass myself,” Bob groaned. “That’s a sentence I never thought I would say,” he muttered.

You laughed happily, but dutifully laid your hands on his arms, suddenly kind of wishing you were back dancing in your living room instead.

#robert bob floyd x reader #bob x reader #top gun: maverick #top gun fic #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #top gun brainrot #i accidentally wrote something

[italiangothicwriteblr]

7

Ooooh this is a good one

Her brother's life was in her hands.

He sat in a cell, convicted of treason, and she was to decided if he lived or died.

There were those at court who believed she would surely like to see him dead, after what she had endured. Those who believed fratricide was unthinkable, even for a princess.

Then there was her family, all with their own opinions that had one thing in common: begging her to spare him.

As her indecision stretched into its second week, Racquella came to see her again.

"You can't kill him, Nova. He's your brother, and a good man, just misguided..."

She couldn't stand to listen to it anymore. Everyone who was supposed to stand by her defending him, begging her not to take well-deserved revenge.

She lost her temper.

"Do you think I deserved it all?" she screamed in her aunt's face. "Is that it? Should I spare his life because he was right all along?"

Racquella reared back as if slapped, and Nova felt guilty immediately, for taking out her anger on a grieving mother who had already lost her husband. But she couldn't stop, and tears streamed down her face.

"You were there! You saw what he did! How would your dead husband feel about you defending his killer?"

"He didn't know what would happen!" Racquella yelled back, defensive now. "It got out of hand--"

"What did he expect? He had a little fun knowing it could get me killed, but you want me to forgive and forget! I'm done."

"You cannot kill him." Racquella begged again.

Nova's face was still coated in tears. Her whole body was shaking with barely concealed anger, her throat completely raw from the screaming.

A hand wrapped around her waist, and suddenly Livia was taking charge of the situation. She wrapped Nova in her arms and turned a protective glare on Racquella. "You think your opinion matters here? You gave birth to a traitor, and you're here begging for his pathetic life. Count yourself lucky you aren't sitting in the cells with him. It's hardly her job to pardon murderers. Now leave."

In that moment, she was terrifying, eyes blazing with a fury that would cause the most vile criminals to crumble before her and confess.

Racquella was seemingly unafraid, however. She simply straightened her back and spit at Livia's feet.

"How dare you speak to me like that?"

"That was a warning, because I respect you. Disrespect her again and you'll suffer the full consequences." In a rapid shift from the stony cool voice, she suddenly hollered "now GO!"

"Your Grace." Racquella swept into a mock curtsey before hurrying away.

Once she was gone, Nova's resolve crumbled and she collapsed into Livia's arms, sobbing anew.

"I don't think I'm strong enough to forgive him," she rasped out against Livia's shoulder.

"Then you shouldn't."

#wip: the traitor's heir #ch: novellia de rege #ch: livia corvi #novellia x livia

[saltysideblog]

Langue Maternelle

Inglourious Basterds (2009) x OC Blurb

Summary: Nurse Grenier plays interpreter and surgeon to a French collaborator.

Warnings: canon typical violence, swearing, non graphic descriptions, blood

Words: 704

When The Basterds finally got their hands on the man who'd sold them out, there was much debate over what to do with him. The boys shouted over one another, "Let's give 'im to Donny!" "Throw him the river!" "Jus' shoot him!"

Aldo sat across from the man, quiet, apple in one hand, knife in the other. Stiglitz looked uncharacteristically giddy, "String him up by his balls!" The others cheered. Aldo silenced them with a wave of his hand. He pointed to the man, "Ainglish?" The man shook his head, blood dripping from his broken nose, "Non." Aldo gestured to the gaggle of rowdy Jewish boys gathered behind him, "Where's Evie?" The boys broke apart, cupping their hands and yelling "Evie?! EVIE!?!" A woman with a medical armband poked out of their makeshift medic tent, "What?!" Hirschberg pointed triumphantly with his rifle, "We got him!" She wiped her hands with a bloody rag, walking over to the man, ''Ooooh… le collabo.'' Aldo sliced his apple, "Well, we 'on't know yet-", he popped the piece in his mouth, "-s'what yer here for." "Right." She crouched with a smile, "Bonjour, je m'appelle Evelyne." The man looked confused as he shook her outstretched hand, "François…" Aldo interjected, "Does Fran-swah own the orchard?" "François, il est à vous, le verger?" The frenchman's voice was shaky, "Ou-oui. V-vous êtes infirmière?" "Infirmière par profession, oui; interprète par necessité." "Pouvez-vous m'aider, je vous en prie…" Evie shook her head sadly, "Il faut répondre aux questions avant." The lieutenant cut himself another slice of apple, gesturing with the tip of his knife, "D'he sell us out t'the Germans?" "Vous nous avez vendus aux Allemands?" François shook his head looking between the men with death in their gaze to the sweet young woman crouched before him, "S'il vous plait, mademoiselle, j'ai des enfants…" Aldo poked Evie's shoulder, ''What'd he say?'' Evie leaned back on her heels, "He's got kids." "Tell 'im to answer the damn question." "Repondez à la question, s'il vous plait." François struggled against the binds around his wrists, tears streaming down his face, "Oui…" Aldo clapped and stood, "I know what that means, we got 'im fellas." The boys hooted and hollered, shouting their suggestions, "Shoot him!" "Lemme at him!" "Take his ears!!" Among all the hub bub, Evie placed a hand on Aldo's shoulder, "Can I have this one? There's something I wanna try." With a snap of his fingers and a commanding shout, Aldo brought the Basterds to order, "Evie's gon' take this'un!" A chorus of oooohs… and eager faces. Donny roughly brought François to his feet, "Watcha gon' do with him?" Evie squeezed François' cheeks, turning his head from side to side, "I'll make sure he never talks again."

A few mintues of shouting and struggling later, The Basterds had François laid out on Evie's table, holding his limbs down. Aldo stood on one side, hands on his hips, ''Ye sure you can pull it off?'' Evie disinfected her tools, "Oh yeah." François struggled, pleading. Evie tutted. Omar yanked the frenchman's leg back into position as Evie circled around to stand by his head, "Donny, be a doll and keep his mouth open for me." The sergeant was more than happy to oblige.

An hour or so later, Aldo had retreated to the small corner of the orchard he called his own. He needed to think about where they were going next and the gurgling screams and scraping metal tools distracted him. He was lost in thought, staring at several maps spread out at his feet when a disembodied tongue landed on the paper with a wet thud. "It's not a scalp, but it's gotta count for something." Evie stood above him, the blood on her gloves still fresh. "He alive?" She nodded with a smile, "Course he is, told you I could do it." Aldo hummed, rubbing his chin, "Not worth much then…" Evie's shoulders slumped, "Aw c'mon, he's got kids." "Tell ya what. You can pull this off", he paused to think, "two more times", he shrugged, "I s'pose that's worth one scalp." "Deal." She turned on her heels, satisfied, when Aldo called her back, "Oh Evie?" "Hm?" "Get this fuckin' thing off my map."

#inglourious basterds #inglourious basterds x oc #canon x oc #evelyne grenier #self insert #fanfic #nurse oc #blurb

[vintage-every-day]

“There was a legend going the rounds that I was not allowed to kiss my leading lady in pictures because my wife did not approve. This was ridiculous and untrue…

…It was my idea to refrain from mushy love scenes, partly because I hated doing them and also because it was somewhat novel not to have sticky clinches in a movie…

Well, that idea ran its course as we progressed from one kissless film to another.

Rumors about my being forbidden to partake of this ecstatic movie privilege appeared in print frequently. One fan magazine came up with a jolly article entitled:

WHY WON’T FRED KISS GINGER?????

I finally decided to capitalize on this world-shaking interrogation and asked Ginger if she’d mind if I gave her the kiss of the century in this picture so that we might end this international crisis.

She answered, “Oh, all right– but you’ll have to speak to my agent.”

At the end of the slow-motion part of the “Color Blind” dance, I installed a slow-motion kiss that figured to make up for all the kisses I had not given Ginger for all those years…

…The dance finished with the celebrated kiss and we had to hold that position in repose until the director said “Cut.” Mark let it run on for an extra fifteen seconds to allow for a dissolve.

That night I told Phyllis we had finally given them the kiss everybody was hollering about, and I wanted her to come and see the rushes next morning.

“Ooooh, I can hardly wait,” said Phyl.  

She accompanied me into the projection room, one of her rare visits, I must add, and we watched the rushes with a number of other people, including Mark Sandrich and our technical crew.

The slow motion dance went through nicely. Phyllis remarked how much she liked it, and when we finally reached the end where Ginger and I settled into the kiss, we settled as only a slow-motion camera can settle you. We were there holding that kiss for about four minutes! All of us started to laugh, especially Phyllis.

It was very funny, and everyone in the room had been waiting for it. Mark Sandrich had purposely kept the camera rolling extra long in order to put on this little show. Phyl took proper advantage of the opportunity to rib me, “Did you say you were going to make up for all the kisses you missed? Well, you certainly did!”

-Fred Astaire, Steps in Time

#vintage #old hollywood #golden era #fred astaire

[spookyvalentine]

If you're taking the Shep asks, how about 8, 15, 28, and 49 for Mercy and Stellan?

Omg!! Yes!! to me stellan is my soft clean ragdoll cat and mercy is the feral raccoon snarling from inside the dumpster

8. What is their reaction to the Alchera mission? And after?

Man I wrote these questions without expecting I’d have to be writing answers. These are hard!!

stellan I think has it a little easier than mercy. karin chakwas was one of their aunts living away from the family commune, working for the alliance when mindoir was attacked. she took them in and together they grieve the loss of their vibrant (enormous) family. once stellan enlisted, the two of em didn’t serve aboard the same ship til the normandy. stellan was definitely boggled, wounded and a bit offended by the alliance sending them the mission, and ooooh karin was pissed at the audacity. they go down to alchera together, but explore and process the site separately. and stellan is with someone who was there, experienced the same floor cracking beneath their feet, lost the same people—they share and process grief together, again. and with joker :,)

as for mercy… well. mercy reads the message and goes what. what?? wow, fuck you! doesn’t tell anyone about the mission or where they’re going. purposely has edi guide the ship while joker is down with chakwas for pt and checkups (and the rare occasion when both are asleep during the same shift) and takes a shuttle down by themself. orders edi to lock the garage. no one’s following. stays out there until they’ve managed to claw every last dog tag out of the ice. 28 hours. mercy forces themself to lay down next to the twisted rails of what used to be the command deck and stare up at the sky and the stars past it, clutching at the dog tags and counting the seconds stretching between heartbeats (and has a total breakdown)

(and of course by this point joker n chakwas are super awake, and very aware they are orbiting goddamn fucking alchera locked inside the normandy, which is pointedly missing its commander. garrus and tali are also Not Happy. outrageously miserable start to the day. mercy what the fuck. why are you doing this by yourself. answer the phone. the rest of the gang is like what is going on. and like yeah mercy gave edi permission to share minimum biostats but that’s hardly any better, shepard)

also if you want to read extraordinary fic, the frozen sea by @zet-sway. Devastating, gorgeous, i think about it all the time, and 1701% inspired this question

15. What colors does Shepard prefer for their armor?

stellan obviously has an affinity for blues. alliance navy looks amazing on them. they settle on something that looks like moonstone for regular use, and a deep navy for stealth missions

in me1 mercy wears literally whatever color as long as the armor is good. me2 they wear this crazy stealth armor that’s not like kasumi’s cloaking but color shifts and slides to echo the environment. me3 is the GOLD ARMOR ERA that was cooked up between liara and hackett as some good promo. mercy’s like wtf is this shiny ass clown suit i will be blasted to pieces immediately. impractical. tacky.

and liara n hackett are like it’s for morale

28. What about hyperfixations? What’s the topic that will get Shepard rolling no matter the person or place

stellan can recall entire kepesh-yakshi games of legend, move by move, in the same gushing, wondering tone of a sports commentator, even hollering at times when recounting something especially remarkable. and their pet turtle along with the whole excruciatingly in depth journey of the aquascaping/aquaculture that went into building his enclosure

mercy loves music. can never get enough kind of love. to mercy, music is magic. the soul made tangible. they’ll excitedly discuss all sorts of up and coming artists across the galaxy with an awareness in trends that at first glance seems out of character. very passionate about music theory and instruments, fucking adores live performances. mercy is the type to spontaneously sweep someone into a dance

49. What is Shepard’s happy ending? What’s the dream that keeps em going

broooo why did i ask this question. hoisted by my own petard, the one petard i never thought would hoist me 🤡🙈

well by me3, stellan is thoroughly in love with shiala, who they’ve been in regular contact since that chance reunion on ilium in 2. they dream of joining her on zhu’s hope, of reconnecting and nurturing the earth beneath their feet. of watching shiala tend to her flowers while they make jam and bake bread before being swept up into an impromptu dance across the kitchen. of being warm and safe curled up in shiala’s big beefy biceps

mercy,,, im really not sure. all i can think of is that line (i am absolutely butchering) frodo knew he would not survive the journey

fifty questions for commander shepard

#grateful for the stellan cottagecore so I don’t drown in angst thinking about mercy #out here in the club hurting my own feelins #also got extremely carried away #thanks for the asks!! #oc: stellan shepard #oc: mercy shepard #themshep #commander shepard #shiala #shepard/shiala #mass effect

[juice-plums]

Dr Two Brains x reader: Silence

(smutty!!!)

Another night alone in her apartment was perfect for Y/n she watches television on her couch she ate some popcorn while then breaking news came on

News-channel: Dr two brains has escaped and is on the run keep on look out

She gasps as his mugshot was shown Y/n had a forbidden crush on the cheese fiend yeah he steals which is illegal and wouldn’t recommend it there was something about him his white hair or that flirty attitude he had she looked past his red eyes

Y/n bit her lip

She daydreamed about Two brains ramming inside her tight pussy and name calling her bad names like ‘slutty pig’ or ‘My cum dumpster’

she felt her get wet with the sinful thoughts Y/n wants him to pull her hair and smack her ass while she’s begging him to cum

She gets up and walks to her fridge and grabs a decent size cucumber she softly strokes it and walks back to her couch she pulls out a condom package from under her couch and places the condom on the cucumber

she spreads her legs moving her underwear to the side yeah it’s her house she wears no pants or shorts and places the cucumber at the entrance of her vagina and slowly slid it in

She threw her head back hissing the cucumber expanding her vagina making sloshing sounds as she pushes it further in her eyes roll back Y/n hung her mouth wide open Feeling the cucumber kiss her cervix and slowly starts to ram the cucumber in and out of herself

“Gahh~ ooooh~ Two Brains!” she moans squeezing her boob The cucumber hitting all the right places yeah her hands got tired but the sensation was too good she couldn’t stop despite the cramping

Y/n sits up and starts to ride the cucumber which made her crazy she covers her mouth

“Yeah just like that!~” she rides faster she fell off the couch but continues to move the cucumber in and out of her not wanting to lose her climax

“aaah! ahhh!~” She screams squirting on the floor she breaths catching her breath trying to go another round Y/n sits back on her couch legs wide open she was sensitive

A loud smash came through her window a figure stood up they lock eyes she noticed those red eyes from anywhere

the awkward tension she saw his cheeks turn red before he could say anything she rubs her clit she saw his boner grow

Two brains had Y/n’s legs in the air like the mating press as he thrusts into her pussy she made a noise with every thrust he made he was bigger than she imagined

A visible lump was shown through her stomach he groans his raspy voice loving every minute holding her legs like he was gonna break them off slapping sounds filled the apartment pretty sure a broom was knocking on a roof to tell them to keep in down

“Oh yes make me your personal slut!~” she begs holding his body close His hands wrapped around her throat

“Yeah you want that you dirty whore? you want me to make you my own cum dumpster? Well your wish is my command” He thrusts with every word bringing your lips in for a sloppy make out session she loves that raspy voice calling her names

this was even better than I imagined! she thought her still brain dead face as he rams into her hole banging her villain crush She wants his to fill her hole and claim her

“This feels so Good-ah I’m so close!” He rasps she forcefully wraps her legs around his back

“Coat my insides!~ make me yours-aaaaahh!~ Two brains!!” She hollers squirting everywhere Two Brains grunts and strand slamming down and cream pie-ing her insides she lets out a exhausted sigh of satisfaction

as Two brains pulls out some of his jizz went onto her stomach He laughs at her grabbing her mouth to lean in for a sloppy kiss and takes out a pen and paper writing down something

“My number…I want you to call it….I’m free tomorrow and I want you all over again” he places in on her couch then kisses her forehead leaving out through the window

She lays there still in the feeling no doubt about it Y/n will definitely call him tomorrow for another fuck sesh.

#smut #dr two brains #dr two brains x reader #Dr Two Brains #Dr Two brains #Dr Two Brains x reader

[lazywriterkylie]

Day 14: I am ignoring the prompt for today! I don't like it and I'm tired. So here, have an old snippet from a WIP I abandoned like, 4 years ago that I really need to get back into. I'm really anxious posting this one cuz it's unedited and I'm self conscious, but as punishment for slacking on the challenge prompt, I must post an old piece. No matter what condition it's in. I hope you enjoy it anyways

            Mary already held a special place in her heart for business trips, but this one felt especially thrilling. The empty house suddenly felt like a whole new world. No evenings spent in her room hiding from a bad mood. No awkward breakfasts where she had to explain away every detail that wasn't perfect about her life. No hiding from her angry mother.

This weekend was going to be amazing.

After stopping by the post office, she let loose and soared down the street, across intersections and around corners like a maniac on wheels. She smiled to think what her mom would say if she saw her in this reckless frenzy, and that thought gave her wings to zoom even faster. 

She came careening around the corner into the front drive as the sky began to turn orange with sunset.

She zoomed down the treelined driveway and almost crashed on the front step, hitting the breaks and spraying gravel all over her mother's perfectly swept sudewalk. She flew to the door knob only to find it locked. 

"I'm hooooooome!" She called, digging through her raggedy backpack, feeling for her key ring. She finally felt the lanyard and yanked them free, only to drop three times as she fumbled to get the door open. 

            “Adam!! Look what I’ve got!!” She hollered as she stepped through the door, holding up her faded pink bag in triumph.

The house was silent for a moment before she got the tell-tale tingles on her arm, and Adam’s voice rang in her through her hearing-aid.

            “wow. You have your backpack! And its not on the floor! Finally learning how to put our things away are we? Your mother would be proud.”

Mary rolled her eyes and unzipped the main pocket.

            “well, I figured you wouldn’t want me tossing something so precious on the ground," she withdrew a large square record case and flipped it around in her fingers.

            “OOooh a record! what is it?”

            “This!” Mary said, tossing her bag aside and waving the record like a medal of great achievement, “is my dance mix. I ordered this forever ago, and it was shipped this afternoon!"

            “that’s why you were late coming home today.”

Mary saw the dust on the wood floor scatter subtly where Adam floated forward to inspect her prize. His voice was casually curious.

            “you wanna hear it?” She asked raising an eyebrow, “Go put your sheet on and meet me in the ballroom!” Mary said, bounding through her spectral friend and taking the stairs two at a time.

            Adam made an annoyed sound and she smirked.

“What about your mom? She’ll be home soon and not only will she be mad about your music, but I also don’t want her to see me floating around her special party room.”

“The wicked witch is gone buddy! Business trip! which means the house is OURS!”

Mary heard Adam whoop in joy, and soon her ear was quiet as he swept off to find his ghostly gown.

            Thirty seconds later Mary was in front of the ballroom, holding her record player, dancing shoes and her new record. Not wanting to wait for him, she opened the French doors and kicked off her sneakers in the hallway.

            There it was. The room she had envied ever since the day they moved in. The floor boards were different here, sanded smooth wood that she had forbidden her mom from replacing when they moved in.

She slipped her flats on and sighed as she spun across the room, absolutely no traction stopping her progress. Giggling like a kid, she slid back to her record player and placed it on an end table in the corner, connecting it to her speakers and carefully slipping her new record under the needle.

          Fuzzy static, and suddenly the room was filled with the opening notes to a smoothe song that filled Mary with nostalgia.  She closed her eyes and spun to the center of the room, lifting her arms and slowly dancing to the simple intro to the song.

            “ballerinas don’t dance to pop-” Adam buzzed in her ear, but suddenly the beat dropped, “Woah what is this?”

            “Not pop dear apprentice, but hip hop!”

“Even more so!”

 She danced over to his floating form in the doorway and took two corners of his sheet, walking backwards untill they were in the center of the room.

            “I am more than a ballet robot dude. My mom paid for the ballet, I paid for the street dancing.”

“very cool,” Adam laughed as she bounced to the beat, holding her hand as if holding an invisible microphone and waving the other one.

“Now, copy me!”

“I don’t do freestyle.” Adam said bluntly, and the eye holes shifted away as if he was shielding his gaze from an offensive sight.

“It’s a partner dance and an easy one too, you can’t complain about that.”

“Oh yes I can!” A fold raised and Mary took a small zap as he touched his invisible ghost finger to her nose, making her hearing aid whine.

 

“Oh Come on!” Mary laughed, snatching the two front corners of his sheet, “It’s not as hard as you think it is, just mirror what I do!”

   “Death hasn’t fixed my lack of coordination” Adam buzzed in her ear, ”I was clumsy with legs and I am clumsy without legs.”

   “You can get away with it now because there is no way you can step on my toes!” She started to sway to the beat of the music. The dusty floor absorbing the movement silently. Mary could almost feel the room sigh as she started to move; wondering how long it had been since the old ballroom last hosted a dance.

 “now, I’ve always envisioned you as a dude with hips, so pretend you aren’t awkward and dance with your hips ok? Just shifting from foot to foot won’t do.”

“I’m going to try my best to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

            “I know you are standing still,” she chided.

 “See, that’s because I am really uncomfortable,” he said matter-of-factly. But she wasn’t fooled, she could hear the slight nervous twinge to his words…

“Just dance like nobody can see you!” she laughed.

“Very funny. Hilarious-in fact- you should write that one down.”

“Fine!” She smiled and with a twirl she spun around in mock pirouette, swiping the sheet from him as she went.

            “Yah, real clever… Making jokes about invisibility to the dead guy… insensitive… lame joke.”

            She continued to dance to the music, and ignored his complaints.

            “feel free to join me any time!” She shouted over the music. From the corner of her eye she saw the sheet raise up from the floor and settle over his form again. After a few seconds of silence, he finally sighed.

            “so blues has no set footing to it? Just side to side?”

            “It does, but beginners can just do a basic step!” She replied, coming back over to him. She smiled and took the sides of his sheet and started deliberately stepping in time to the music.

            “Left-and-bounce and, right-and-bounce and, left-and-bounce, just like that.”

 Adam’s soft white sheet rippled through the air as he started to follow along. Before the beginning of the second verse, he was in the groove, and the sides of the sheet arched up from there his arms rose to mimic hers.

            “You sure you don’t dance?” she asked suspiciously.

“Positive. In fact, I feel really uncomfortable.” But as he spoke, his steps became fluid and he moved slightly closer. Within the next heavy measure he danced directly before her, should he have breath she might have felt it on her skin. Streams of evening light  lit up the room and refracted from the silk that rested gently over his form, making the room all the brighter in the orange glow. Their slow dance, though separated through planes of existence she didn’t understand, was a good one. She didn’t feel any resistance from his sheet as she lead.

            “I think I’m getting the hang of this," he said in tentative enthusiasm.

As he spoke, the song crackled to a close and a new classical piece kicked up.

            “Aw what! Lame! I was literally just getting into that!”

            Mary laughed and stopped, “well that’s ok, this one is good it’s a-“

Adam interrupted, “A waltz, so it has a three count beat and has three steps, yah I know.”             “aaah we know waltz do we?”

            “I’m not a complete idiot Mary. I have waltzed before…. Once or twice…”

            “Fine!” She said, raising her arms into an elevated stiff position, “Show me!”

“Er, ok. Um-it’s like this yah?”

Mary felt a tingle in her left foot and laughed. “I’m going to assume you just stepped through my foot. The man always starts with his left foot, because the woman is always ‘right’, get it?” Mary could swear she heard him roll his eyes.

            “Oh whatever, let me try again.”

            He came forward again, and this time Mary stepped back with the right foot and they didn’t collide.

            “there you go, that’s it!” She said encouragingly, gazing at the blank sheet before her, trying to imagine a face foe the friend she'd never seen before.

            “Iiii’m still really uncomfortable.”

But this time, he stepped fluidly as he said it, and within the next few measures of music they danced directly in front of each other like mirrors. Strips of violent orange sunset streaked across the dance floor and illuminated his sheet so it flashed the colors of the evening sky, the sun setting faster than the growth of Adam’s newfound dancing skill.

 Mary reached out and took a corner hem like his hand, and hovered the other over where his shoulder would have been. She felt the hairs on her arms raise as he stepped closer and the flow shifted where his hand should move behind her back.

            “Now you keep that hand on my back you rascal!” She teased in a mock sophisticate accent, pretending to lift his hand up to a respectable location.

            “Now madam Mary! Would a gentleman like me ever dream of bringing such disgrace on a fine young lady of class such as yourself?” Adam replied.

            “Me? A fine young lady?” She asked in disbelief.

            “Absolutely!”

Mary snorted and rolled her eyes, “have you met me? ‘Fine young lady’ my ass!”

            “Your ass? Well if you insist!”

Adam laughed out loud and she felt a shock lower on her back, but Mary opened her mouth in surprised and jumped back wagging a finger, “Oh no you don’t you Casanova!” And she spun away before he could catch her, “Tag you’re it!”

She heard a small cackle and he chased after her, the goofy ghost face slipping down as he went. She tried to keep stepping to the solid beat, but soon the game was on and she had to tactfully spin away to keep him from catching her. Adam chased around swiftly, and Mary realized that he must be more modest than she thought.

            He cornered her by the window, and she squealed as she ducked and ran under the floating sheet through his transient legs. The sheet swiped her hair and caused sparks to fly and her silky strands to stand on end.

            “Hey, no fare!” Adam complained, “How am I supposed to win if I can’t touch you?”

He became quiet and Mary stopped dancing as she spotted his stationary form. The music continued as Adam’s sheet settled… his shoulders slumped, that stupid cut out face turned towards the glossy floor. She felt her heart give a groan and bit her lip to fight the ache.   Their moment was shattered.

            He was right, it was unfair. The injustice of his situation seemed to grab hold of her by the throat, and all at once a wave of pity and resolve filled her to the brim.

Mary tiptoed quietly to his side and grabbed the hem. She steered him gently, and he followed her to the center of the room.

“Stay there,” she whispered gently, “and close your eyes.”

            He remained silent without protest as she walked away toward the door. She hated her helplessness and wished she could just pluck him out of this situation and drop him into a happy life where he didn’t have to exist in isolation. She couldn’t save him, but she could at least try to connect.

 After leaving the room, she sunk her socked toes into the thick antique rug that spanned the length of the hall, disrupting the vintage pattern and rubbing her feet until she felt the familiar cling to her flesh. Something unfamiliar was stirring inside her. This time would be different. This time she could try to do something.

***

            Adam was glued to the center of the room- by his heart- by her whisper- by the heavy weight that seemed to land in the pit of his stomach every time she got too close. Not even the music could move him anymore. He hadn’t told her, but this was one of his favorite songs from back when he was alive. And if Mary ever found his room and cared to dig through his old boxes of stuff, she might find a thumb drive containing a video cover of this song he made. The classic was awesome, but Adam liked to put a spin on old songs. It was just her speed… she would have loved it… but for some reason he was afraid to let her see..

            He heard the floor creak softly behind him, and he caught his breath.

            “Am I allowed to move now?” he whispered, a bitter chuckle mixed with a choke from emotion.

            “Don’t move,” she whispered. The sound came from only inches away, and Adam swore in that moment he could feel her standing there. A chill rushed down his arms and he peeked through his lashes to see her large glassy eyes shining in the moon light before him. They had been dancing so long the sun had gone down.

 Eyes filled with an energy he had never seen before. Her soft blonde hair stood slightly on end and she had a happy little look on her face, like something of pride and anticipation. The static on her hair matching the electricity of the moment.

            “Ok,” she said breathlessly triumphant, “Tag me !” She held her arms out, showing that she was ready to relinquish her enmity, expecting to be zapped.

            What happened next pleasantly haunted Adam forever. He had no idea what made him do it; the moonlight on her pale cheek, the rosy pink lips held like velvet petals, the closed eyes with lashes that fluttered softly. Before he even registered what his body was doing, he leaned forward slowly. Those lips drew closer and closer. He pulled the suddenly overwhelmingly cumbersome sheet from his head and felt the electric tension hover just out of touch.

            Neither of them felt it coming. Just as his lips touched hers, the phonograph popped and cracked. A lightbulb from the hallway grew brighter and brighter. Had they opened their eyes, they would have seen through the window a porch light go out.

            But they didn’t notice.

All Adam could feel was warmth as he kissed her lips, and she kissed him back. Warmth. Something so foreign to him that he couldn’t let go, he wouldn’t let go. He didn’t know what it was but he desperately didn’t want to relinquish the feeling. His heart beat faster and faster, and for what felt like an eternity he felt the presence of life. His hand reached up and touched her hair, her lashes brushed his cheek and her breath felt like home on his neck. He felt her fingers in his hair, and he touched her soft skin, hardly daring to pull himself from the mystical moment that neither of them dared stop to question.

            The tension hung by a spinning string, and Adam would swear for the next thousand years that it was the most perfect moment in history.

And then the light exploded.

Mary jumped and screamed as shards of glass came falling to her feet, covering her socks. She felt a stinging and shrieking in her ear. It felt like an angry bee, and she dug the hearing aid out in panic. Shaking, she inspected it. The dim light on the side was almost smoldering and the body of the device was scalding hot.  She whipped her head around, eyes wide, heart racing as she tried to absorb what had just happened.

            The phonograph was silent. A smell of lingering ozone hung in the air to replace the tension from moments before. The dim room held a chill, and she felt a prick of fear as she spotted the crumped sheet laying in a heap in the center of the floor. She felt like she was just ripped from a dream.

            “Adam?” she whispered. Her voice shattered the quiet night like the light from the hall.

            “Adam?” her voice echoed through the silver silence like a ghost.

Her trembling hands picked up the silk sheet and shook the shards of broken glass from the folds. She tossed it out, and it settled flat upon the ground. Empty space.

            “Adam, are you there? I-I can’t hear you, my hearing-aid broke…”

            Silence.

            The singularity of her own voice scared her. She shook as she gathered the cold sheet in her arms and tiptoed to where her shoes lay in wait, carefully avoiding the glass.

            “Adam! Please come back! Where are you?” She made her way to the stairs, poking her head through doors and around corners of the old and dusty house. 

Where could he be?

 She made it to the kitchen and tried the light switch. Nothing. The power must have gone out in the whole house, because all the other switches Mary tried responded as desolately as her calls for her friend…

            She searched for what felt like hours, but it was as if the house itself was holding its breath. Like Adam was a secret to be kept and Mary was being mocked for not knowing. She paced the floor, tossing the sheet out periodically only for it to fall lifeless on the ground.

            Finally, the fear in her heart was too much to take and she snapped.

“Adam! This is not funny, where did you go!!” She shouted and threw the sheet in front of her repeatedly, but to no avail. “Adam! If this is about what just happened… It’s, it’s ok we can talk about it! J-just tell me what's wrong!”

            Retiring to her room felt like giving up, but she didn’t know what else to do. What would have caused Adam to break all the lights? Was he just embarrassed? Did he regret what he had done, or was it something else?

            It had to be something else… it had to be. How could he have been afraid of her?

Mary changed into a nightgown and settled into bed, placing her fried hearing aid on the side table. That had never happened before. did they break because she touched Adam?

            She had touched him hadn’t she? She brought her fingers to her lips; it might have been her imagination, but they felt softer than normal.

            Her fingers had touched his hair… it was curly…

            What was she doing?! What had she done? She had never kissed someone who meant so much to her before! What if it was too far? What if he was embarrassed? What if he never came back?

            Had she kissed him, or had he been the one to bridge the gap?

       She rolled over and closed her eyes, letting her shoes fall to the floor from her dangling feet. Questions bounced around her head like angry bees, and as a small dull ache started to ease from behind her eyes she sighed. No matter what, everything would turn out ok-this was not the end of the world. Adam was just hiding. In one of his moods. He would come back tomorrow, and the two would go on and hang out like nothing had happened.

#writing #daily prompt #writing challenge #author #fiction #female writers #writing prompt #fic prompt #creative writing #romance #young adult

[unhavoc]

when mary oliver said 'as for the lovers, they are discovering new ways to love' i was left with no other option than to start screaming

#ooooh she hollering #she wants that mutual affection #Mary Oliver #When x said #Poetry #Love #Writer #Text #Love quote #Romance

[punemy-spotted]

Dead Trees Like Lavender Fields Chapter 2

Chapter 2: In The Pines

Pairing: Old One!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Elements, Dub-Con, Soft!Dark Characters, Dark! Characters, Cult Elements, Human/Animal Sacrifice, Religious Elements, Blasphemy, Cosmic/Dark Horror, Stalking, Possessive/Obsessive Characters, Appalachian/Mountain Gothic, Gothic Horror, Descriptions of Death and Rot and Poverty, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, This Is Kind Of Horror So Please Remember That

Chapter 1

Chapter Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Elements, Fever, Sickness, Death, Burning, Religious Elements, Cult Activity, Immolation, Unclear Timelines, Unreality, Horror, Choking, Bruising, Potential References to Domestic Violence, Pregnancy, Churches, Shotgun Weddings

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Chapter Summary: You come to the mountain to burn and be reborn.

O Appalachia: mother and maw that births and devours us, roots sunk deep and winding as gnarled hands clasped in prayer, hold us fast and give us foundation..

- Old Gods of Appalachia, Episode 11: Season Two Prologue

Notes: Another chapter of my baby. Old Gods of Appalachia just completed their second season and ooooh boy am I in love. More lore to come. I'd call this fic slow-burn but that would be both a lie and a pun.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

Names… names have power.

A power she cannot comprehend, can never comprehend, not in the years that are laid out before her, her path wound through trees of time and space.

Names have power.

The handsome coal miner boarding with her papaw’s family calls her Darlin’ and she is shy and cautious, is interested and sweet on his work-wizened smile and axe-sure hands.

Her fiancée calls her Sweetheart and she is bubbling and bright and full of adoring life.

Her husband calls her Missus Tucker, and she is welcomed, is a stranger in a new family, is in search of a community in a town not her own.

So here she kneels, this many-named she, composed of a thousand identities bound to one soul, dressed in the white of purity and death and rebirth in a church which looks grander and stranger than anything she had ever seen in her own life.

Here she kneels, a wafer of spun sugar melting on her tongue, consecrated by the brush of a warm hand over her veiled head, listening to the boom of a pastor the likes of which she had never known and would likely never know again.

He calls her Foundling, tells her she was once a lost lamb, tells her this flock is her family, this congregation of ringing voices raised up in a kind of praise she had never known before and might never know again.

And here in this church, with its pews hewn right out of the fine oak floors which lined this holy place, she believed him.

You come to us a lamb in need of sheering, in need of rebirth, in need of shelter from the storms beyond. You come to us to be forged, the Pastor booms, a looming man who looked like he might have been carved from marble itself, his hair the spun gold of Heaven’s own light, his eyes flooded blue with the fervor of the Lord, You come to us to be welcomed, to be named found, to be named the wife of Eugene Paul Tucker, to be the cornerstone of that new homestead you shall build here in this Holler. You come to be made whole, sheared of the sins of your old life, to begin anew.

They were already married, she and Eugene, ‘cuz the swellin’ in her midsection was starting to get a bit obvious and her mamaw weren’t about to let her great-grandbaby be a bastard. Her momma and poppa might’ve been taken out by the booze and the black lung but Goddammit, I ain’t lettin’ no good-fer-nothin’ rock-finder make a fallen woman outta my girl! You git down t’city hall afore I git myself a shotgun. You better make an honest woman outta my grandbaby, you gottdamned lout! And she’d never heard her mamaw swear that much — weren’t Good nor Godly, that sorta language — but she knew then just like she knew now, that her mamaw meant business. No point asking if she’d need some soap t’clean her mouth.

They were already married, she and Eugene, with a license from City Hall for the government t’be satsified, but Eugene wanted a church weddin’, a good proper one with praise an’ scripture an’ all the trappings of Godly Grace. The church in town, her momma and poppa’s town where they’d been born and died, well it wasn’t ‘bout t’let an unmarried — license by some gov’mint weren’t ‘nough for these folks — girl and an outsider get good and proper hitched in their sacred halls.

So that was it.

So they came here, to Eugene’s town. To Bell’s Hollow — or Holler, cuz government names ain’t the right names, plenty of people knew that — where they were welcomed.

She ain’t ever heard of Bell’s Holler before but that weren’t a worry — plenty of towns here not on the government’s radar, even if they had a mayor and a post office and a city hall. Ain’t nobody carin’ about these little places ‘less there was money t’be made of it.

So they came here.

And now they both kneel afore the Pastor, the smilin’ man with gold-flax hair and sparklin’ eyes and teeth placed all in a row like a neat little graveyard, booming out scripture and something else. The fire in her soul ain’t nothin’ like the feel of her old, somber church which rejected her for bein’ rich with life, moving slow and languid through every corner of her body, like the Lord’s Good Word was spreading into her with every beat of her loving heart.

But then the heat grows, blooms into something… uncomfortable.

Unbearable, before long.

Eugene watches her shift on her knees with a smile in his eyes, almost unbothered by the way stinging tears stream down his pretty new bride’s face, the way the Pastor makes her expression contort with pain and then terror with every fervent syllable pouring like stinging hornets from his mouth.

And when the hem of her wedding dress catches ablaze and his wife starts screaming, all he does his squeeze her hand like he could shackle her here, tie her to the wood and bone and Pastor Rogers booms, I strip you, lamb of God, I sheer the wool of sin from your skin and wrap you anew, anew with a new name, a true name, and when the Good Lord calls you to His side, let the name He draws you with be Eliza-Anne Tucker and may the fires of your love for Him be your guide Home.

And Eliza-Anne Tucker burns.

You wake. Ablaze too, just like the woman in your dreams, the one you recognize and don’t all at once.

If the fever wasn’t presently decimating what remained of your thoughtful mind, you might have considered who your mother was before she married the man apparently called Eugene Paul, the man who apparently was your father, the man no one seems to mention anymore except to tell you he was dead.

Unfortunately, fever.

It’s the same unnatural burning as the other dream, the one you wish the fever would make you forget and yet you are never quite so lucky, invisible flames licking your heated skin and something like a brand stinging on the inside of your thigh. Sunlight filters in through the window, burns your eyes until you close them, too bright, too loud, too warm. You open your mouth to groan and feel claws sink into your throat, pine needles embedding themselves into you and you can’t… you can barely breathe, much less speak.

Sickness never sat well with you — your mother always knew all the right remedies to make, chamomile milk, honey and turmeric, a saucer of biscuits soaked in coffee — but you’re sure this is something… worse.

This isn’t warm milk and tea remedies. This feels like someone tied you to a stake and lit you up, too much smoke in your lungs to be washed away with honey, leaving you unable to do anything but choke on your own labored breaths, tasting blood instead of coffee-cookies.

If you looked at yourself in the mirror — that was, if you could actually pull your body up and see yourself, take a look at yourself in the vanity mirror right beside your bed — you might have seen the mottled bruises around your throat. Might have realized that they looked like fingers wrapped around you, choking quiet any attempt you might have made to make sense of yourself. But… seeing as you can’t, can’t do much more than roll over in your sweat-soaked sheets, you don’t see and thus don’t notice the way one of those bruises deepens, not even as darkness overtakes your senses.

It’s the fever, you would probably justify if you had the senses to do it, the fever. Just needs to be slept off.

Whatever sleep means.

You see things, behind your closed eyes. Scattered images, fractured visions and strange voices. Glowing red eyes, monstrous growls, fangs flashing in the unnatural light. You think yourself awake a few times, sure you see your momma pacing fretfully at the foot of your bed, see Sergeant Barnes sneering at you from your doorway and uttering words that sounded something like an incantation, see flames and horned beasts with glowing amber under their peeling skin.

The whispering voices too are numerous, too numerous to name each individual one, but you try — your mother’s, Sergeant Barnes, the golden-haired Pastor from your dream-mare, and… the slow singsong of someone you know and don’t all at once.

You wake to the voice and its source, a smiling woman with a cool, wet rag in her hand, pressing it to your forehead, Well hello, honey, and ain’t you a sight?

And well.

You are.

Sweat-soaked and uncomfortable, flushed with both embarrassment and fever, mumbling some sort of apology to the strange woman at your bedside. This was not exactly how you envisioned your homecoming.

Ain’t got no need t’pologize, honey, lord knows we should be the ones fallin’ over for you, the woman cuts off the half-formed words pouring from your mouth, still pressing that rag to your heated cheeks, Comin’ down this sick, well, I know your Auntie Estus’s cookin’ an’ I know she ain’t the type t’give food poisoning. Air must just not be agreein’ with you, but that’s alright. We’ll get you right as green soon enough.

You nod, trying not to think on how strangely your nurse speaks — an affectation of age, almost, the shape of her words somehow ancient and not, like seven voices all at once — and instead try your best to get a good look at her as waves of heat blur your vision.

She flickers, indeterminate, shifting through phases of being but always, always with that same rounded belly of a woman just weeks from popping out a squalling babe into the world, yet so comfortable in her gravidity.

Shh, don’t you try lookin’ too hard, honey. Only gonna hurt yourself, she assures you, pursing her lips when you turn your head away to rest your eyes and give her a greater view of your neck. You don’t see them, but she does.

Well. Looks like somebody already did, now how’d these come about, honey…?

The look on your face — confusion, concern, and a hint of panic — is enough to tell her you have no idea, and she tuts her tongue again, Tch. Have a talk with your people ‘bout that when I’m done gettin’ your fever down. Now… you can feel fingers brush over your head, cool spring water on your scalp, ice over your sweltering skin and you sigh softly as relief floods in like the tide, That’s a good girl. Just breathe now, for me.

Your senses flood with sweet orange as a battle is held in front of your nose, a sure hand helping you sit as pillows seem to rearrange themselves, laying you back at an angle and as you finally reopen your once-tired eyes, the world sets itself right.

A world blooming with light, the chirp of a warbler outside no longer sandpaper on your senses, and that same beatifically smiling woman watching you blink into what has to be finally clear awareness.

There we go, back to the land of the living, the woman’s voice is a bell, a constant press to your senses, pushing back the foggy film threatening to cloud your thoughts all over again.

You manage a smile, a warm nod to mirror your nurse, I’m sorry, before you can be interrupted, I… I’m not sure what exactly happened.

The nursemaid’s eyes merely crinkle, suppressing a smile of quiet amusement, No honey, I don’t suspect you would. Ain’t no reason t’worry ‘bout that now, ‘course. Never any. Now then… You have a mug pressed into your hands, the source of which you can’t quite place but you know enough to sip at it even before you can be told to. It smells of orange again, bright and sunny, tastes of nostalgia and home.

You almost let a tear slip quietly down your cheek, stopped only at the soft brush of a caring thumb. You must miss her somethin’ awful, honeysweet. She loved you a mighty ‘mount, didn’t she…?

Miss her?

You think on the dreams you remember a moment, the shape of your mother’s face, so young in the dim flashbacks of your memories and so full of… life.

A life you still can’t remember her having, not while she raised you up.

I’m realizing I don’t know her very much, you admit, unbidden, unsure suddenly where such honesty came from it isn’t like you to tell your secrets.

You never know your mama, not the way you think you do. They always got secrets t’keep, from you an’ for you. S’what mamas do, to protect their babies. Something about those words sits in you. Weighs on you, embeds into your heart like nails in the wall. The friction of realization.

The ache might have pushed you to cry again, to finally let out that deluge of pain and sorrow and loneliness you buried, just like she did. Ain’t got no reason t’cry, cuz I ain’t got no one t’care, but the hand at your cheek is warm and familiar and when you look at your nursemaid you see her again, hale and hearty as you wish you could immortalize her all over again.

It’s when she opens her mouth and the warbler outside turns from a song to a crow that you bolt upright proper.

Dreams in dreams.

It was afternoon when the fever broke.

Afternoon, faded into a brick-grey dawn, the sound of a crowing rooster cutting through any words you might have heard the last vestiges of your sleeping mind say, and you…

You’re not sure if any of that was real.

Hell, you’re not sure any of this is real.

The bedsheets are… fine.

Unaffected. There’s no stink of sweat and sickness on them like you might have imagined from a fever so bitter it had you imagining your own mother’s memories and a nursemaid bearing her reborn visage, had you tasting sunshine tea and feeling bruises you couldn’t even see. No sign of…

No sign of the other dream too, the one you refuse to dwell on lest it heat your cheeks and something else entirely.

Nothing.

You almost expect to feel sore as you push aside the covers and let yourself rise from bed, listening to the house come alive around you. Someone hollers for eggs, someone calls back, Aunt Estus’s opera-singer voice calls for quiet or Ye’ll wake yer pa up!

Pa, whoever that is to the chastened down below, doesn’t appear awake to respond. And you, who expected aching between your thighs and the unsettling slick of the-thing-you-don’t-want-to-think-about, are both delighted and confused to feel neither.

Of all the strange realizations you have faced until this moment, somehow this — the realization of nothing at all — is the most welcome.

You dress, watching yourself in the vanity mirror and toying with the empty space where the bruises you were sure you would find were supposed to be, before picking up your necklace and breathing in deep. Never take it off again, never never never and you don’t know where that sort of knowledge comes from, but you know enough to listen to it.

Enough to clasp it around your neck, let the stone sit heavy at your collar, let it almost thrum, as if a heart had suddenly begun to beat to life within that carbonized gem. Heavy. Safe. Protective.

You ought to have minded your mother a bit more often, you remember. Ought to have paid attention to the warnings the late woman-who-was-once-Eliza-Anne-Tucker had always given you. Don’t go into the woods, don’t go into the dark, don’t listen to the call of the void.

Some lessons, apparently, need to be hard-learned.

You’re learning them now, as you stare at the door to the hall and steel yourself to face the new day before you.

Open doors are portals, you know from your mother’s warnings, as you step forth from the bedroom and into the hall.

And come face to face with a grinning shadow Sergeant Barnes, nonchalant against the wall, feet from where you’d locked yourself in for the night before, eyes bright and full of knowing.

Morning, kitten. Sleep well? Not too hot?

#bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #soft!dark bucky x reader #soft!dark bucky barnes #soft!dark bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfic

[butterysalt]

Thanks For Existing | Sherlock x Reader

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x reader (gender neutral)

Summary: In order to make a point to Irene, Sherlock goes out of his way to express his gratitude and make sure that you know what you mean to him.

Word Count: 1,504

Contains: Soft Sherlock

A/N: Haha I guess I much prefer writing Sherlock as “only a little bit of an asshole”. Enjoy!

You and Sherlock were in the records room for a few hours now searching for a very specific piece of information for a case. He stood beside you, watching idly as you flipped through the evidence files in the big metal cabinets. It wasn’t as though you had really noticed that he stopped looking around to be able to jab at him.

When you were concentrating on something and your mind isolated itself — your own “normal people” version of a mind palace, if you will — your eyebrows would furrow or twitch and you would gently grind your molars… Like how Sherlock noted that you were doing now.

“Hah!” Your eyes lit up suddenly and a bright grin flashed on your face. You drew out a single vanilla folder, flipping through the papers to check its contents and nodding triumphantly. A small smile crept onto Sherlock’s face as he watched you claim your success and do a ridiculous victory jig in the records room.

You shuffled over to him, still bouncing, waving the flat file at him in a taunting way and playfully bopping your fists into his shoulder. “I found ittt, I’m so resourceful ooooh,” you sang, mocking him shamelessly. Sherlock rolled his eyes at your nonsense and made a deep groveling chuckle that buzzed within his chest. Then he sucked in a slow breath and pondered silently.

“Y/n,” you rose a brow and urged him expectantly as you slipped the evidence report into your bag. “Are you free to get dinner with me tonight?”

You tensed up, snapping your head towards him incredulously. Sherlock stood, anticipating your response. Even for a mechanical detective like himself, you dared to go out on a limb and say he looked a little nervous.

After a few seconds of tense staring, you sputtered to yourself and saw that he was being completely serious. You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, readjusting the strap of your bag on your arm and checked the clock.

“Oh… uhm, well, we finally found that bloody file so I suppose I am for the night,” you murmured unsurely, mostly to yourself. Your eyes rose carefully to meet Sherlock’s. It was so  nerve wracking to make eye contact when his icy stare was so trained on you. “Where did you have in mind?”

Sherlock grinned, “Oh, just something in mind.” The careful response surprised you and your eyes squinted at him in suspicion. He only winked at you and turned to leave the room. For now, you dismissed his secrecy and followed the tail of his trench coat, pursuing the mystery.

The supposedly super-secret location that Sherlock was taking you to was his favorite hot chips stand. A part of you was confused due to how grand he was hyping up the destination to be. But it was fitting. You’ve known Sherlock long enough to know that chips were one of the only things out of the very few in this world that could get through to him during some of his darkest times.

Both of you paid for your chips and sat on a cold bench on the bridge. The deep vibrant painted sky that the setting sun had cast over London was dispersing into tufts of a dark red and blue. The view was breathtaking.

You never had as much time as you’d like to admit to stop working and appreciate what life had to give. Your heart swelled greatly at the realization that no day ever changed. The birds danced with the merciful breeze, singing a devoted song for another. The water underneath the bridge slapped against the brick structure, ringing special bells and melodies in your ears.

The last yellow light over the horizon was pacing its way down the tall buildings of the city, decorating the glossy towers with dazzling sparkles. And then, the whole world was enveloped by a dark velvety cloak of stars and constellations. For a moment, time became irrelevant and everyone was forced to revel in it. This is what you’ve been missing out on all this time.

“Sherlock?” The detective hummed as he chewed his fresh chips. His eyes remained in front of him, gazing towards the blobs of light dancing in the city across the ocean.

“Why did you ask me to dinner tonight?” You asked warily. Sherlock stuffed his face with another handful and downed it as quickly as he consumed it. He shrugged stubbornly. “I wanted chips.”

A puff of disbelief slipped out and you allowed the growing smile to spread on your face. You rustled your own chips in your tray and began to clench and unclench your hand subconsciously. “... Was that all?”

Sherlock leaned back into the bench, eating in a much more polite manner this time. “It’s a thank you,” he said simply. You frowned and tilted your head in his direction. “A thank you? For what?”

“... Being here,” he uttered before shoving another chip in his mouth. Your eyes widened and you felt your lips parted in surprise. He wouldn’t look at you but rather just continue distracting himself with food. That’s a first.

A warmth grew in your cheeks and you lingered in contemplation before taking a bite of your own chips. You both looked forward, ignoring the silence among the two of you. But the setting was calm. Now that the sun had already set, so did the city.

You murmured quietly, “Well in that case, thank you as well.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him either as you thanked him. You darted your eyes in any other direction and hastily chewed.

Sherlock glanced at you from the corner of his eyes and his lips formed a smirk. Even when you weren’t directly looking at him, he could see the way your eyes sparkled and lit up when he was around you. You enjoyed each other's company and that was enough proof for Sherlock to believe that you really do mean something to him.

“You don’t want to have dinner with me,” Irene asked, but it came out more as a statement.

“No thanks,” Sherlock responded flatly. The woman rose a brow and a sly expression graced her face. She crossed her legs and leaned forward. “Oh? Now that’s interesting.” Sherlock kept his eyes closed as a way to actively ignore her but he perked a silent brow.

He could easily hear the smirk in the Woman’s voice. “Are they that special to you?” This made his brows twitch. Despite her personal jabs, Sherlock still refused to look in her direction.

A sultry laugh came from her throat. “To prove me wrong, you, Sherlock Holmes of all people, would go out of your way to play with another one of your pets. You really can’t lose at anything, can you?” Irene chuckled to herself and tilted her head, gazing at the slight facial tremors on his features. “Unless, you want my attention that badly?”

“Excuse me?” Irene grinned and bounced her shoulders. “I’m only stating, Mr. Holmes. It is a mystery how you work. You deny it, but you’re very emotional.”

His eyes were wide open now and glaring at her. He dropped his hands on the chair’s armrests. “You don’t know anything about me, Ms. Adler.”

“Is that right?” She hummed. Irene slowly got to her feet and approached the detective until she was standing in front of him. “You’ll do anything to win, Holmes. Trust me, I know. But is it possible for you to win anything and everything? A very specific person of interest by chance?”

“I don’t understand,” Sherlock said carefully. Irene lowered herself onto his lap and rested against his chest. The man did not flinch nor move away. He stared her dead in the eyes.

“You don’t know how to be intimate with someone. How to satisfy a person. At least not properly.” Sherlock rose a brow, questioning that notion.

Irene flirted and adjusted her position, leaning all her weight against him now. “Believe me, I can see the lechery in your eyes. But you won’t be able to keep them, you know. It's all a game to you. Do you really think that these boring people have the will to put up with geniuses such as you and me?”

Sherlock remained stone in his spot, glaring at the woman straddling him. Irene thought she was effectively intimidating him until he leaned forward, close enough to say words only they could hear.

“You’re not special to me.” Her eyes rose to meet his and she felt a chill run through her. “You’re not different. Not unique nor brilliant. You’re the same as any one else I’ve ever perceived. Just way in over your head.”

Sherlock easily pushed her off his lap then stood and shoved his hands in his pockets, turning away from her. The Woman stood back, staring at his back in shock.

Holmes opened the door to his bedroom and hollered behind him, “Lock the door before you leave, thanks!”

#sherlock x reader #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x gnc #sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes fanfic #reader insert #self insert #irene adler fanfic #irene adler fic #irene adler